This prompt is my first foray into Obikin AUs, and I absolutely loved drawing (heh) the parallels between canon and a Renaissance-y setting. Thank you so much for sending it in and giving me the opportunity to explore!

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“When God invented beauty, he was inspired by you.”

Anakin/Obi-Wan; Rated T

Obi-Wan’s charcoal danced over the page, the overhead oil lamp providing enough glow in the late afternoon that he managed to capture the turn of the marble statue’s lower back. The lines of his sketch followed the curve of the top of its backside before Obi-Wan broke off and took a deep breath.

The statue was, quite literally, a work of art, but in practice it affected Obi-Wan like a piece of erotica. He shifted on the bench and pulled his charcoal back over the statue's face--a much safer portion of the artwork for his sensibilities. He was in public afterall; the museum was full of other artists and patrons. Shifting on the bench, it wouldn’t do to have his mind wander.

The face was safer, but no less enticing. There was the tempting edge of the statue's lips, somehow plush even under the hard stone. His eyes were carved shut, but Obi-Wan could imagine a deep blue ocean under them, long eyelashes fanning out to frame the almond shape. His cheekbones were defined but not in a harsh way and Obi-Wan followed the angles of them on his sketchbook with charcoal like a caress. 

How the sculpture managed to create the delicate ringlets of the statue’s hair defied any logic, it seemed to be an act of pure divinity. “When God invented beauty,” Obi-Wan whispered to his sketchpad before his focus slipped back to the marble statue. “He was inspired by you.”

A newcomer slid onto the bench next to Obi-Wan, clearing his throat and ducking his head. “Well, kind Master of the Arts, who am I to criticize your perception of me?” 

“Pardon me, I--” Obi-Wan began, but broke off when he turned his head and came face-to-face with the marble statue, come to life. Obi-Wan’s stomach flipped, and his breath caught, and he knew he looked foolish with his jaw agape and eyes flying between the newcomer and the marble statue. “What--How? I must be dreaming.”

The man’s laugh was as heavenly as his form. In the flesh, the corner of his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and Obi-Wan had been right, ocean blue eyes framed by an endless expanse of eyelashes.

“I assure you,” the man began. “You’re very much awake.” They sat so close together on the bench that the man took the liberty of bumping his shoulder against Obi-Wan’s. “My name is Anakin, Anakin Skywalker.”

The place where their shoulders touched radiated a heat up Obi-Wan’s neck and covered his cheeks. “Kenobi.” He cleared his throat. “Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“Do you mind if I sit while you finish your sketch? I’ve never seen a Master of the Arts actively create before.”

“I find that hard to believe, as you had to model for this glorious statue.”

Anakin smiled and ducked his head again, beautiful in his shyness. “Well, maybe I haven’t seen one as handsome as you before, Master.”

The man simply took Obi-Wan’s breath away. All he could do was smile and nod. As he turned back to his sketchpad, he felt Anakin’s gaze on him, a distraction, an enticement. Obi-Wan returned to the part of the sketch he’d previously avoided: to the curve of the statue--of Anakin’s back--running his charcoal over the lines of his backside. His charcoal stuttered along the page when he reached the inner bulge between his thighs.

Anakin laughed lightly, and ran a hand over Obi-Wan’s knee, below the sketchpad. "Be mindful of your thoughts, Master. They'll betray you."  

“I believe my sketching has done that for me.”

“Perhaps you would like a real life model instead?”

Obi-Wan dropped the charcoal onto the page and turned to face Anakin. “To have you alone, in my studio, under my posing. I fear far more than my thoughts would betray me, then.”

Without warning, Anakin stood and put a hand out towards Obi-Wan. Without thinking Obi-Wan slid his own palm along Anakin’s and let him tug him, and his sketchbook, up from the bench. 

“My Master of the Arts,” Anakin began, their hands still intertwined as he bowed his head to look up at Obi-Wan from under his impossibly thick eyelashes. Obi-Wan itched to draw them. “Lead me to your studio.” Anakin’s smile turned wide and mischievous. “For this is where the fun begins.”

Thank you for sending in this prompt - I'm loving all these opportunities to write Obi-Wan and Anakin!

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“I do not trust men in suits.”

Obi-Wan/Anakin; Rated T

They walked side-by-side along the damp, dark and desperate streets of Daiyu. Anakin kept Obi-Wan in the corner of his eye the whole time, knowing his former Master's singular focus on the mission left him vulnerable to seedier delinquents. Anakin knew their risk well; he’d been surrounded by the desperate for most of his childhood.

But Obi-Wan always had a way of surprising him. He noticed the first threat while Anakin was too busy noticing Obi-Wan. Without any warning, Obi-Wan’s arm shot out and pushed Anakin back into the wall of an abandoned alleyway. Obi-Wan followed, huddling in the shadows together as four sentients in business suits walked by.

“I do not trust men in suits,” Obi-Wan whispered into the space between them. 

Anakin took a moment to pointedly look down at himself and then over at Obi-Wan, both of them clad in business suits to blend in while going undercover to investigate Daiyu’s spice trade. The Jedi Council usually wouldn’t have bothered, but the organization had grown so large, and a special segment of it had started pilfering lightsabers.

Anakin wasn’t focused on that at all--not on the mission, or the spice traders, or the missing lightsabers. He was fixated on the way Obi-Wan’s arm held him firmly across the chest, pressing his bicep across Anakin’s body, pinning him to the wall. Anakin couldn’t move at all, even if he’d wanted to. He didn’t. Now was not the time for his inappropriate crush on his former-Master to seed wildly inappropriate thoughts in his mind. 

Of course, Anakin’s mouth didn’t get the message because he followed up Obi-Wan’s whispered words with, “Well we’re both in suits, so should I start taking it off?” 

He intended it as a joke, but it fell flat. Instead, weak and breathless words filtered through the alleyway, and all Obi-Wan did in reply was turn to him with wide eyes and an unamused lifted eyebrow.

“No?” Anakin continued, because he already stepped his foot in the sarlacc pit, mine as well dive in. “I want to make sure you trust me, Master.”

And there it was--a faint blush crossed Obi-Wan’s face, bright enough to be seen in the dim alleyway light. 

Anakin tucked it away with the other sacred moments where he managed to provoke a reaction from Obi-Wan, a reaction that hinted at... something. Anakin wasn’t sure if it was a fluster, or an embarrassment on Anakin’s behalf, or if Obi-Wan was standing in an alleyway in Daiyu, imagining Anakin taking off his clothes.

Regardless, he’d affected the other man, and it meant more to Anakin than any successful mission--no, it was the mission. Mission accomplished. 

So excited to have the opportunity to write this pairing! Thank you for sending in this prompt!

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“Please take my jacket.”

Anakin/Obi-Wan; Rated T

The door to the quarters Anakin shared with his Master slid open. He knew from the hum in their Force bond that it was Obi-Wan returning from his solo mission, yet Anakin still glanced up from the holopad, drawn instinctively to the other man. 

Anakin’s attention was halfway back to the holopad when he paused, frozen, then slowly returned his gaze to peer at his Master from beneath his eyelashes. 

The Jedi Knight mumbled under his breath while pulling off his boots, barely paying attention to Anakin’s presence.

Which was perfectly fine with the Padawan, at least for the moment, if being invisible to his Master allowed Anakin to freely admire the rest of the outfit he’d worn on this mission. The thought of others seeing his Master in this attire stirred a surge of anger, jealousy and possessiveness within him--emotions he struggled to release to the Force. For once, he’d actually managed to succeed. Maybe there was something meditative, or at least transfixing, about his Master in leather boots, tight brown leather pants, a loose linen shirt with an open collar, and that damn blue jacket. 

The jacket hugged along his Master’s muscular back, riding up over his waist to reveal a sliver of skin between the leather pants and the jacket’s hem.

Anakin forced his attention back to the holopad and furiously hoped he hadn’t been openly gaping at his Master, especially now that Obi-Wan was addressing him. Apparently, he had been speaking to Anakn for some time. Anakin completely missed everything he had said.

Clearing his throat, Anakin felt his cheeks redden. “What was that, Master?”

“Padawan, please.” Obi-Wan sighed. “I require assistance getting out of this--this--this ridiculous costume! Please, take my jacket.”

Anakin swallowed. “Take it? Take it where?”

Obi-Wan turned to face Anakin, narrowing his eyes with frustration. An expression Anakin knew all too well.

“Take it off of me, Padawan. It’s too tight, I can’t physically remove the dreaded thing myself. Why did anyone in the entire galaxy think this outfit was a good idea?”

Anakin barely managed to restart his mind but eventually tossed  his holopad to the side, shuffled off the settee, and walked over to his Master. “Sure, Master, I can assist in, uh, undressing you.” Anakin smirked, because he knew it would make Obi-Wan fluster or exasperate more.

“Anakin, don’t be obscene!” Obi-Wan replied, in that predictable flustered and exasperated tone.

“Of course not, Master. I’m sorry, Master.” Anakin bit his smirk so it wouldn’t spread into a smile as he ran his hands over Obi-Wan’s shoulders. “Let me start with your jacket.”

Anakin officially considered this to be his favorite outfit in the entire galaxy.

Thank you for the prompt! I'm so excited to write these two. I switched "movies" to "holovid" to better fit the universe but the rest remain the same. Happy reading!

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“Goodbye…Darth.”

Darth.

Darth.

The name reverberated through the ceaseless torrent of thoughts that surged through Darth Vader's mind inside the silence of the bacta tank.

Anakin Skywalker had haunted him. A ghost of a war general, The Hero With No Fear, a padawan, a master, a former slave—Anakin Skywalker the famous Jedi.

Darth Vader lived a nightmare in the overwhelming sensory deprivation of the tank. He saw every moment that one person had called him Anakin, from their first meeting to the day he had left him to die on Mustafar. It was a holovid stream he couldn’t escape: a young boy with fear in his eyes and hope in his heart, shaking hands with his soon-to-be master; a young man recently knighted, knocking shoulders with his brother-in-arms; a war general with a fierce and possessive desire to protect his greatest attachment.

In all the galaxy, only one person still breathing had continued to call him Anakin. 

Anakin

Anakin.

“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.”

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Across the universe, in the deepest caves of Tatooine, Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open. 

Through a long-neglected, battered, and burnt Force bond, he heard the whispers from a man he had thought was dead, learned had lived, then mourned anew. The voice in the bond was more familiar than any, absent the modulating mask. 

Following the voice through the bond, Obi-Wan sensed its owner’s tumultuous thoughts. Amidst his mourning, he sensed a questioning from the thought’s owner, one that the owner had believed to be buried, long dead like Anakin himself.

The questioning sparked the smallest of embers, a miniscule glow—light in the darkness. With the final loss of a name, a transformation took hold in the owner. In the acknowledgement of loss, flickering flames grew, breathing life into something new: the unyielding will to fight.

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If anyone else is interested, check out my Writing Game!