lacey ♡ 25 ♡ writer & gifmaker A super slow writer with perfectionistic tendencies. Currently writing lots of Anakin/Vader-centric fics, but ouat and aos also loom in the background. Hope you like what you read! ♡ visit my main blog ♡
Hi! I’m Lacey and I’m a super slow writer with perfectionistic tendencies. I wanted to make a separate blog that is dedicated to my writing and where I can share updates on fics that I’m working on. Currently writing some really longfics for Once Upon a Time and Agents of Shield, but might have other fandoms pop up eventually. Check out my main to see what’s rotting my brain at the moment :)
main blog ♡ ao3 ♡ tracking #lilacprose
updates;
april 4: everything hurts is posted
navigation;
As for now, the list is pretty short. However, if it ends up getting long, I might split it up into separate pages in the future.
gen
♡ asks
♡ tags list
♡ fic gifs
♡ fic trailers
sw
♡ mechanical mind // mechanical body (darth vader)
♡ in light of the moon (suitless vader)
♡ of a lifetime (darth vader)
♡ everything hurts (darth vader)
misc fics
♡ there was water (the shape of water)
♡ nowhere but here (kurt matheson, the last man)
summary; Vader comes back to the bacta tank after a mission.
word count; 2,186 words
a/n; mmmm that bacta tank featurette really did a number on me so enjoy intense eye contact and seggsy tension. if ya'll like this there might be follow-up fics, who knows...
content includes; sadness, intense eye contact and uhm… his muscles helppppp-
Darth Vader’s shadow entered the chambers before he did.
Judging by the pace of his steps, the mission had affected him. Some days, he would walk in slow. The cape gently cascaded down his back as he resorted to his chambers to rest. But on days such as this, after a mission that had taken nearly every last strength of him, he’d come in more furious than fatigued. But Vader knew never to take it out on her once his steps entered the foggy chambers. He knew where he was and who he was with. And she had assisted him for so long that she trusted him.
His life was in her hands.
When she heard the doors open, she quickly got up from the table beside the tank, hurrying to meet him at the entrance. Vader stopped once she was opposite him.
She bowed her head. “Welcome back, my Lord.”
It wasn’t her place to make conversation with him. Even though she had worked with him for a long time, she made sure never to cross any boundaries. She was only to aid and heal him, not befriend or bond with him. But even though both of them knew that, she still felt a stark difference between the beginning and the present. As much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, the two of them had an unspoken bond. The language between them may be professional, but both knew that meaning went much deeper than formalities.
His breaths echoed in the chamber. He didn’t move at all, stood still like a statue with his fists clenched and back straightened. From afar, he looked as terrifying as ever. But Vader had his tells. She’d seen every part of him by now. Knew when something was wrong. She traced a rip in the armor that went up his right arm with her gaze.
“Your suit is torn,” she said, breaking the silence. Her eyes were fixed on the exposed wires on his right arm as she approached him. Carefully and slowly, she removed the glove to reveal the durasteel hand.
“There is a pain,“ he begins, inhaling, “a searing pain in my shoulder. I cannot-” He tried to flex his fingers with his arm outstretched. The metal joints struggled to bend at his will, remaining in a half-clenched grip. Suddenly, his arm dropped, free-falling in the air for a split-second before she held on to him. Vader groaned, his other free hand flying to his right shoulder, fingers gripping tightly.
“Are you all right?” she asks. Vader replied only with an inhale, looking back at her through dark lenses with silence This is what happens when you’re with someone for a long time. You notice the deviations in the ordinary. The differences in his breathing, the looks behind his mask. She noticed all of that. His breath told her more than his words could. And it felt like she could hear Vader tell her that it hurt. So much.
She took him over to the chamber, letting the droids partially undress him so she could better work on his arm. She watched as the droids dismantled his upper body. Piece by piece. The cape, the belt, the chest plate. A few clicks on her tablet and the droids reach for his helmet. As it lifted, his pale eyes met with hers, and there was a sudden reminder of him. A mental pause. Momentary state of amnesia. A second of forgetting who the dark figure was. But then he looked in her direction. Head slightly lifted as he turned to her, lowering his gaze. And she’s left with no recollection of seconds passed.
Then, a click. The droids had finished their task.
Vader stepped down from the chamber and walked with her to the table she was seated at before. Both chairs were pulled out as they approached. She looked over at Vader, whose hand was still lifted after moving the chairs. As she took her seat, it carefully got pushed back in.
She gave him a little smile. “Thank you.”
Vader looked down as he took a seat. She couldn’t tell what he was saying. Mumbles of words formed into the faintest smile. Vader put his right arm on the table as she adjusted the lights above them. Smoke billowed around like a thick white blanket. She opened up the components in the prosthetic, pulling out tools from drawers underneath the table, and got to work. Occasionally she looked up while she worked to gauge how he was doing. The pressure in the chamber was sufficient for him to be able to breathe without his suit on, but that didn’t mean that he still wasn’t struggling. One arm rested on the table, the other hand firmly on his thigh. He sat upright, his back straightened like a rod. Scarred broad shoulders rose and sunk as he drew slow, meditative breaths. It was almost like she could hear him counting. Probably to help cope with the pain.
Her heart sank as she looked at him. “Let’s see if this works,” she told him, putting her tools down. “Could you move your fingers for me?”
Vader tried to flex his hand. He tried to squeeze his forearm with his other hand, but the fingers were still not moving. He shook his head, sighing in frustration. “Still nothing.”
“I’ll try to make some more adjustments. Can you manage for just a moment?”
Closing his eyes, he drew a sharp, raspy breath through his nose and nodded. “I can… Handle it…” Vader said, his speech slow and fragmented. “I… trust you.”
She looked up from his arm. The white light from the lamp above him almost blinded her. Like the chalky rays dizzied her mind, intoxicating her in some supernatural way. She’s suddenly struck by the sound of his voice. So different compared to the voice that boomed out of his voice mechanism. Husky and deep, each syllable laced with smoke. There’s a growing wonder of what he used to look like before his injuries. She looked into his eyes, trying to map out the man who used to be there. Mental lines draw soft golden locks that cascade down his face, painted by legends and tales she had heard of him. That he used to be beautiful before the darkness corrupted him. And yet she looked at him now. Scars of battle and fire all over him. Some of which she had tended to. Pale white skin with years of healing.
She knew that some would look at him and disagree with her. Say that the beauty had long left him.
But…
She shook her head. How could she let herself think about him? How could she let her mind wander to a place Vader could so easily see? He could see through her if he wanted to.
And yet…
If Vader had, she wouldn’t be here right now, losing herself in his gaze that only seemed to soften the longer she stayed. There really was a difference, she thought, when he looked at her. A deviation from the past. Did he see that too?
“All done,” she said, closing up the prosthetic. She stood up and observed as Vader flexed his metal fingers. Smooth movements, as if human. She could’ve sworn she saw a smile creeping up on him. Vader held onto the chair as he stood up. The chair frame gets crushed underneath his strong metal grip.
“Are you all right?”
“I have been out of the suit for too long,” he told her.
“Let me help you to the tank-” Before she could finish her sentence, Vader lifted his right arm. Perhaps to test and see how high he could raise it after her modifications. Quickly she realized that he wanted her to hold on to him. The way his eyes lingered, wondering when his outstretched arm would rest around her. Her heart raced as she approached his side. She met his gaze, asking for glances that would tell her that this was okay. A small nod, a gentle squint of his eyes. A beacon of assurance. Her arm slid around his lower back and to his midriff, firm abdomen expanding at each hoarse inhale. His arm wrapped around her so tightly she felt drawn to his body like a magnet. She closed her eyes, resting her head on his bare chest just for a second. Letting Vader adjust himself until he felt ready to walk.
She realized just how vulnerable he is in this moment. Masked and armed, all others hear are his echoing breaths. But masked and armed, they will never know the sound of his heart beating in his chest. Or feel the charred skin beneath their hands.
Unmasked, she saw that he was just a man.
Vulnerable.
Only to be seen by her.
His life in her hands.
Slow steps take them to the tank. The droids further undress him, removing the prosthetic legs and hooking him onto the wires.
“We’ll keep your arms just so I can evaluate them,” she explained as she checked that the wires were attached correctly.
He lets out a small chuckle. “I understand.”
The droid raised Vader to the top of the tank. With her tablet in her hand, she went to the top of the stairs to meet him. He hovered in the tank, the water reaching to his hips. Vader held on to the railing as she approached him. Even though he was partially lowered into the water, she had to stand on her toes to pull the mask over his head.
“Take a deep breath now,” she says, holding the mask over his mouth. Before she can let go, Vader’s hands reach for the mask, wrapping tightly around hers. The cool metal fingers linger at his inhalation. His chest expands as he takes a long, deep breath. Eyes closed as Vader focused deeply, letting the oxygen flow through him.
When he exhaled, Vader opened his eyes.
“Better?”
Vader nods. “Better,” he tells her, his voice muffled by the mask.
“Take slow, deep breaths. We’re almost done,” she reassures him, not realizing her hand brushed his shoulder as she spoke. She went around to adjust the tubes that attached to his back. From the corner of her eye, she sensed movements. As if he kept turning his head.
Vader broke the silence.
“You find me repulsive?” It came out more as a statement than a question. She looked up from what she was doing, the tube nearly falling out of her hand. Her mind went back to the daydream earlier and wondered just how much he had seen. Did he see the way she looked at him? Did he see her imagining him without his scars? She shook her head even though she knew he couldn’t see her. She couldn’t lie to him.
Or herself.
“No.” Silence filled the room. Only the ripple of the gentle water of the tank remained. The more she thought about it, the more she realized she never found Vader repulsive. She recalled the first few times she had met him. How he wanted the lights overhead dimmed whenever she was there, even moving them away with the flick of his wrist. His body receded into the shadows, the darkness a black robe replacing the armor he had been stripped of. She wondered if his question was reflective of his perception of himself. Maybe Vader remembered the way he was before. Maybe he didn’t like the way he was now.
She wished she could tell him.
As she put in the final tube in his lower back, he flinched.
“I’m so sorry,” her voice trembled. “Does it hurt?”
He doesn’t move. He took a few shaky breaths.
“Everything hurts,” Vader finally said.
She went around him and began detaching the prosthetics one by one. Her hand rested on his upper arm. The sensation was so rough underneath her hand. Her hand moved, slowly and gently, up his big arm to his shoulder. He let out a soft hum that blended with the rippling water.
Then she came to. Awoken from a soft dream. She removed her hand from his arm and cleared her throat.
“Hope you’ll have a restful sleep, my Lord.”
He nodded.
She pressed a button on her tablet, slowly sinking Vader into the water. Vader’s eyes never left her as the water rose around him. Never broke eye contact with her until he became submerged in water.
She walked down the stairs to go to the monitors. With a running heart, her feet touched the floor. Her lungs filled with air, almost as if she had forgotten to breathe for minutes. A sudden rush of air, a heat in her cheek. There was an eery silence in the room. Tranquil bubbling water and its kaleidoscopic reflection on the floor.
a/n 2; pls don't @ me i don't know how the tank works. i'm basing this on the bts clips. so yea, you'll be able to go to the top of the tank with a staircase. big whoop lol
any good underrated writers on here that you actually recommend?
Definitely @kingdomhate; her creativity and talent for writing every star wars is beyond my vocabulary to describe. It's always so on spot, being all delicate and precious like a spring's flower
@madsluvsdilfs; I.LOVE.HER...she actually started posting her fics not a while ago but it was enough time to make me obsessed. Her writing is soft, so subtle in the best way imaginable :(( def you have to check her blog out‼️ all her work deserves an applause and further recognition ‼️‼️
@anakinca; nina writes fluffiness in such beautiful, gentle, loving way. All the details are highlighted, all dialogues matches characters sooo well
@lilacprose; UH---I DONT HAVE TO DESCRIBE THIS BEAUTIFUL AUTHOR I HOPE...THE WAY MY JAW DROPS WHENEVER SHE POSTS IS BEYOND MY UNDERSTANDING...she's amazing, absolutely, gloriously amazing. She owns writing for Vader; unburned or burned, i don't care. She owns it.
@speaknow-sw; if you search for something more poetic, you'll find it on this blog. The writing is so rich with beautiful words, bringing them to life. Just so so much of something different on this app, something more artistic, something going above of all the stuff on here.
@catnipaddictt; another creator who stole my heart. It was always so nice to read her work, to be a part of what she's been doing. Her creativity in finding right words, right scenarios is absolutely breathtaking.
@awhhayden & @theladykassia; no words much needed. Two great blogs. Two queens
@throughparisallthroughrome; if you're searching for beautiful long fics, this is the right blog 🙂↕️🙂↕️ the writing is absolutely stunning! The way she captures emotions and everything is just ufhfhfhfhfhf
@foreverburningstar; the queen, the shining star. She had single-handedly destroyed me with everything she wrote and I THANK HER. PS. she wrote poetry 🤭🤭
@lunarnightt; she.is.so.aesthethic..she is a princess..she is a moment..from bots to fics, the greatest, the sweetest of all times 🙂↕️
@cherriies-snake; she also started her blog recently ‼️ and just let me tell you how much I actually enjoyed reading through her fics :((( she has a great talent worth much more recognition, and I hope she'll be a great, big angel blog on here in the nearest future 🙂↕️🙂↕️
@starrdream; uh oh YES..hello?!?! the fics are mind-blowing, leaving me gasping, giggling, twirling my hair ‼️🙌🏻🙌🏻
@fredswrite & @mrschristensen; FOAMING.AT.THE.MOUTH...thats all I have to say 🤭
summary; A woman is captured on Vader's ship, suspected to know the whereabouts of the rebel alliance. She, however, has no idea why she's there.
word count; 667 words
a/n; Happy Valentine’s Day 💕 I'm sorry in advance. This is the stupidest idea I've ever had.
content includes; Choking, miscommunication and an attempted blowjob (nothing happens)
A kaleidoscope of white flecks in dancing shades of midnight blue diverted her attention. Distracting her from the white noise of a voice. She lost track of how long she’d been looking out that window. Also lost on her was why she was even here in the first place—behind her stood two Stormtroopers, armed to their helmets and ready for any minuscule movement.
Running away wasn’t an option, then.
Standing opposite her at a distance was the Sith Lord in the flesh (or metal more likely). Never had she seen Darth Vader in person, but she had heard rumours from people around her that he was twice the height of a normal man, that his organs were made from scraps of steel, that he spoke like a droid. Is he a droid or a man? she wonders as she looks at him with an empty stare. She wasn't really focusing on anything that he was saying. But he talked a lot with his hands. And they were... distracting, to say the least. Gloved hands gesturing and pointing at her in anger and frustration.
“You are part of the rebel alliance,” this sentence snaps her out of her daydream. Her brows drop into a confused furrow. What alliance?
“I don’t know anything about any rebels,” she tells him. "Can I go, please-"
“They have trained you well.”
She tries to hold back a snort. “What training are you even taking abou-“ she scoffs, shaking her head but instantly regretting it. Even though the mask covered Vader’s face, she could feel the angry stare piercing through the lenses. If his eyes could shoot out laser beams, she’d be dead by now.
She cleared her throat, quickly changing her manners. “M-My Lord.”
“Where are the secret rebel bases?”
“I don’t know-” Her sentence is interrupted by an invisible hand grabbing her by the throat. She lets out a surprised gasp. A gloved phantom hand grips her neck in just the right spot. Invisible leather, smooth yet rough, making her feel like she's floating in the air. The grip tightens even more.
Oh…
This feels nice…
As she slowly opens her eyes, she’s met by Vader standing mere inches before her.
Her eyes widen.
Oh, crap.
“Uh, I mean,” she stutters, trying to come up with something that could pass for a cry of pain. “Ahhh?” Not even she would fall for that, let alone him. Vader releases his grip on her, and her feet hit the floor again.
“Kneel,” he tells her.
She looks around and at the Stormtroopers behind her. His request has her dumbfounded. “Here?” she whispers to him, pointing at the small space between them. Was he being serious?
“Kneel.”
She shrugs, trying to conceal a smirk by biting her bottom lip. “Fine,” she lowers herself and starts to fumble with his belt. “Where’s the damn buckle-“
Vader jolts back. “What are you doing?!” He shouts.
Looking up at him from the floor, she shrugs. “You told me to kneel, isn’t this what you wanted?”
“Get up!” He motions to the two Stormtroopers who rush over to grab her arms. She writhes and tries to get out of their tight grip.
"Get your plastic hands off me!"
"Take her to the cells!" Vader orders and turns his back, facing the blues of hyperspace.
The Stormtroopers begin to drag her out of the room. She resists, tries to get herself out of their grip.
"No! You can't do this!" she yells as she's dragged out of the room. "I would have given you the blowjob of a lifetime!""
The doors close. Vader paces around the room. He calls the captain from his comlink.
"How much longer before we get out of hyperspace?" he wonders.
"About ten minutes, my Lord-" Vader ends the call before the captain can finish. He stands there for a moment, looking out into the sweeping blues of hyperspace.
summary; In a dark, small cell on the Star Fighter, Vader enters. On his knees, his helmet off, eyes on her...
word count; 1,040 words
a/n; The indulgence is selfing. He's still Vader with the armour but not burned. ROTS-era hair. Yea... 😳 May or may not be inspired by this specific photo. oop-. Shoutout to the best of the best @itsladyliv who always got my back, and @crumblekitty who beta-read this fic (we sure had a Time™ brainstorming this).
content includes; Vader on his knees doing you-know-what (oral) to fem!reader. Nothing too graphic, more atmospheric than smutty (but smutty nonetheless). Written in third person with no use of y/n. Minimal dialogue. Minors can look away, there's nothing to see here.
Smooth metal beneath the tips of her fingers. Nails and fingertips digging through the grooves others before her had created. Sensing a piece of them with each scratching motion. Scared. Terrified. Innocent. Guilty. Straightening out the fabric of her long white skirt, she contemplated which one of those belonged to her. Scared when they dragged her, terrified when her face got covered. A white masked “guilty” before doors closed behind her.
And then darkness. It lifted from her head only to engulf her again in the small cell. But instead of marching footsteps, the galaxy gently hummed outside her window. She couldn’t make out anything. A stream of white light illuminated the room, cutting it in two. A straight line between her and emptiness.
She draws a deep, questioning breath. How long was she going to stay here? Long enough for her vision to remember these four walls? Long enough for this bench to become a permanent piece of her? Her hands move on either side of her, her grip tightening on the edge of the bench for a moment. She taps her fingertips mindlessly on the cool metal surface and sighs.
Interspersing the galactic hum, there were sudden footsteps. Heavy. Leather boots sounding like they could be full of metal. Making haste to the door. When the door flies open, she sits up straight. Turns her head. It was only breaths she could hear. Echoing, echoing, echoing. Her eyes began to adjust to the towering presence in the room. Darth Vader was enormous, making the room seem so much smaller than it already was.
He walks to the corner opposite her, past the white light. Something clicks. The breathing suddenly stops. She sees Vader’s shadowy hands reach for the helmet and lift it off his head. Her eyes had gotten used to the dark by now. Adjusted to the outline of his body, the flow of heavy fabric a black waterfall down his broad shoulders. He throws his head back, soft curls gently cascading as he stretches his neck from side to side. Vader lets out a sigh.
The helmet crashes to the ground with a loud thud that makes her jump. Her heart races as he slowly turns towards her. He takes slow steps into the light. Parted lips illuminated, shiny with longing and starvation. His chest rises and sinks beneath the heavy armour. She notices the shallowness of his breaths—impatiently quick with lustful undercurrents.
Her heart thumps in her chest. He’s so quiet. She longs for the echoes of mechanical breaths instead of this. This deafening, deafening silence. Him not saying a word. Her not knowing what will happen next.
And yet…
The more she looks at him, the more she knows. The questions from before return to her like trails of a wildfire. Scared. Terrified. Innocent.
Guilty.
The cloak swishes. Heavy fabric thrown behind his back. Vader lowers himself, moving away from the light, his lips hidden in the shadows. The stream of white hits only his eyes. Closed, looking down, never meeting hers.
A furrow on his brow grows with focus. “Do you believe it?” The sound of his voice, an intoxicating deepness, sends a hot flash in her core. His hands slide, clothed and steady, over her sides. Caressing her hips, creasing her skirt. He grabs fistfuls of white fabric, hitching it over her knees. “That you’re guilty?” Vader looks up at her now, requiring only one look from him for her to lift herself so that the skirt can fall over her hips. Vader removes his left glove. His leather and her white lace float to the floor. Vader’s two hands stroke her thighs, the right clothed and the left as bare as hers.
Slowly. He bends her left leg, his bare grip firm on her soft skin. Slowly. Warm lips begin to trace a trail down her inner thigh.
She gasps at the sensation of his mouth. Vader draws his tongue over her arousal, steady and slow. Tasting her like a starving man. She leans her head back against the wall, letting out a loud moan as he begins sucking her. Oh—she wants to touch him. To feel the strands of his hair between her fingers as he devours her. Her fingertips barely get to graze his hair when her hands suddenly become unable to touch him. All that comes out of him is a low “No…” as his moans reach deeper into her. Her hands move to the edge of the bench. He keeps them there, holding her down with a phantom’s touch. He hums into her, heated vibrations spread all over.
One look.
He denies it. Vader shakes his head, his hair tickling her inner thighs. She becomes unable to say anything. All that can come out of her are pleasured tears. In her mind she pleads and begs, but words don’t form—they only sigh and moan and cry for him.
Let me touch you.
Her knees buckle, and she writhes over him. Vader picks up the pace, adjusting his body so he reaches the parts of her that make her scream. Her legs rest on his shoulders. He lets out loud, deep groans.
Still without looking. Still holding her down.
Please—
The Force slowly lifts off her hands.
Lips lift from her too.
He catches his breath. “Tell me… What’s it going to be, then? Innocent…” He opens his eyes. “…Or guilty?” Vader looks at her for what feels like an achingly long time. The questioning hot gaze and his darkened eyes send her closer to the edge. Her hands glide up his head. She takes in the sight of him as her fingers, entangled with curls, massage his head. She hopes that his eyes never abandon her. To remain open as her hands carefully tug at his hair. To never break when she directs his face back to the throbbing spot between her legs. To stay with her until she comes undone before him.
His shallow, hot breath brushes against her. He waits. He keeps his eyes on her, but he waits. The anticipation, the hovering of his mouth over her. The waiting.
summary; Darth Vader arrives to a rainy planet in search of Jedi knights. The hunt does not go as swiftly as he hopes and instead becomes haunted by old ghosts and shadows.
word count; 2,573 words
a/n; Originally posted on ao3, but decided to post it on Tumblr as well. Hope the crowd likes it!
content includes; Intense fight scenes, anxiety/panic attacks.
Darth Vader’s steps leave a trail of lifeless bodies. This place was a wasteland of a planet that seemed to have rain as its inner core. Mist fogs up his field of vision, and rain droplets tap his helmet. The crescent moon casts a marine shade over him as he treads through humid, foggy terrain. Just merely minutes before, he wiped out an entire village of Jedi hiding in tents and covering themselves from the rain. Jedi campfires flickered in the distance. They took no notice of the Imperial ships that deftly touched ground or when a sudden gust of wind snuffed out their only source of light. He had stood so close to them for a fleeting moment, listening to their breaths and their whispers. It was the wind; it was the rain; it was nothing. There was nothing to worry about—until he activated the breathing mechanism, and they all screamed in darkness. With his lightsaber ignited, he slaughtered every one of them as a sea of stormtroopers emerged from their hiding places and joined him. Fire strobed in the night, flashes of red going through body after body of man, woman, and child. They didn’t stop until the last severed limb fell to the ground. Stormtroopers split up to look for other scattered Jedi. He would usually let them do the rest. He had done what he was made to do. His mere presence on the planet was enough. Word will spread that the Empire is here. They will all try to run, but soon learn that it is useless. Years have gone by, star systems have been overruled until nothing but cataclysmic rubble remained. There is a mark in the universe in the shape of his silhouette, and the sound of his breath resonates in the black emptiness of the galaxy. The legend of the dark lord has come to be more terrifying than the man. He is the name that breathes in fear and exhales demise. Just as it does now. Always has and always will. Here, in the rain, on a planet left to be barren by his cybernetic hand.
His heart pounds in his chest still. It was something he noticed happening more regularly. Fatigue becoming a more frequent occurrence. A racing heart, a heavier head, and a blinding field of vision. He can feel the aging of the body now more than ever. But he can never allow himself to admit that. He raises his chin to gaze higher over the horizon before him so that those thoughts may never reach his head. He listens for the troopers in the distance, blasters firing off. His heart rate starts to slow down, following the steady rhythm of his breathing mechanism. It is the only constant he finds himself leaning on after all these years. The machine grounds him. It is a ticking metronome that keeps him in line with where he needs to go. Always looking forward, never back. A consistent march onwards, onwards, onwards—
Crack.
He halts. Scans the surroundings. Turns around slowly. Somebody is watching, and he knows it, but the data inside his helmet shows no form of life before him. A presence, a crack, in the force. He grazes the top of his lightsaber on his belt and looks behind him. Between trees, far into the horizon where illuminated clouds meet the soil.
A hooded cloak.
A man.
One of them.
He grunts and turns around. The black cloak floats in the air as Vader rushes toward him. His towering stature leaves no room for stealth. Not that stealth is of any priority now. He wants the person to see his helmet reflect the moonlight. He wants to be seen . He wants them to be afraid . They will all know that Darth Vader is coming once they see that sliver of red in the darkness. And he will come forth with no hesitation or mercy.
He’s not far now. The cloak is there, swaying in the distance.
Are you what remains?
His cloak is there, swaying in the distance.
The wind gushes and howls. Or perhaps it is the machine keeping him alive that he hears. He’s not sure and can’t be bothered to tell. The two sounds merge into a long, sustained pulse that rings in his ears. He sees the blue moon reflect in his helmet. He knows that wherever he goes, Vader’s black armored shadow will follow him. Sometimes he stops and doesn’t move – not a single muscle, without a twitch to be seen on his shadowed face – just to taunt him. He stands there, only a few heavy steps away, the hood of his dark robes pulled over his head. Waiting, listening, observing. He knows it will drive Vader to the precipice of madness, charge him to attack. The mechanical breathing grows louder as Vader marches towards him. He crosses his arms, closes his eyes, and reaches into the Force, but he doesn’t have to. Because it doesn’t take a cosmic force for him to know the excruciating pain Vader is in. Each heavy step digs the steel prosthetics deeper and deeper into the charred flesh. There is a dark field surrounding Vader as he moves. Thick and black, like the fuel for a Star Destroyer. He feels it all. The pain, the hurt, the ever-darkening rage. Reflected in his own bones. Remnants of Mustafar.
Obsidian riverbanks flash before his eyes, and for a brief second, his lungs fill with volcanic ash, only to be replaced by the earthy scent of rain just as fast. He tilts his head as he looks at Vader who has stopped yet again. He looks around him as if something were to appear at any given moment.
Not just yet.
There is something that echoes between the trees. Echoes interspersed with the high-pitched noise in his ears. Repeating over and over as Vader starts to walk away from him. The ringing starts to take shape and reverberates in his mind:
Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
Died with the birth of Vader.
Left here is only Vader.
If he could he would let out a laugh that would startle the machine.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he takes a quick turn behind a tree, hears how Vader halts, and frantically searches for him. He moves with the grace of a phantom and walks so lightly that no sound is made.
He’s behind him now. Vader’s gloved cybernetics tightly grasp the base of his lightsaber. Glowing red and aiming at air. Vader’s shoulders heave in frustration. He begins to see his own hooded reflection in the back of the helmet the closer he gets to Vader. The scar over his eye burns. A sensation deep in the pit of his stomach. For a second, he doesn’t realize what it is. It’s the wind; it’s the machine; it’s a voice. Something slithers up his leg as it whispers to him. He throws a glance at his leg, seeing nothing but hearing a voice he can’t tell from Vader’s or his own.
Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
He glances back at his reflection in the helmet, and it dawns on him that it’s the shadow of the dragon that he hears. Crawling up Vader’s arm, digging its claws into his lungs, huffing old words back to his covered ears—
Suddenly, Vader turns around. The red blade points at his neck.
He chuckles.
I will destroy you!
The lightsaber is lifted to the Jedi’s neck, but he doesn’t move. Only a chuckle escapes him. The blade casts a light on his lower face. The man stands before death, yet he is unfazed. His lips don't tremble like the others. Vader moves the blade closer. He reaches deep into the Force to see who the man before him is, but feels only the complete absence of light within him. This isn’t the light energy of the Jedi. It is something far darker.
Still not flinching, the other senses what Vader is doing. He, too, reaches into the depths of the Force. Vader feels his parasitical presence inside his mind. A single image is placed in his central vision.
Padmé.
Vader yells and strikes a blow at him with his lightsaber. The other responds just as fast. His blade emits an eerily familiar shade of maroon. Vader's breath is heavy; the other’s lips are sealed tightly, and his breathing is controlled, almost like he isn't breathing at all. They stand still in mirrored positions. Lightsabers raised and touching, with red sparks falling like the mist around them.
At the same time, they slowly lower their weapons.
Vader keeps a close eye on the other’s hands; the still-ignited blade points towards the ground as his hands move to take down the hood. He drops his cloak on the ground. Rain droplets hitting dark leather sound between his own breaths. There is no other movement, not a flinch—only a mere coldness in his gaze and the traces of a scar across one eye. The longer Vader looks, the more he notices how his eyes slowly turn a deep red.
Still, the other made no movement, as if the rain had frozen him. A furrow grows behind the mask. Surely this is a trick. It must be the fatigue. Imagination. Vader has not seen those robes since...
Since they burned with him.
His hand does something it never does. He trembles, trembles, trembles as the other person slowly starts to walk, forcing him to step back.
And Vader sees it now.
Anakin before him.
You lack conviction
Anakin raises his lightsaber, and the sword clashes with Vader’s. Two maroon blades of equal speed light up the blue night.
Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
With one hand, Vader strikes Anakin down. Whoever is doing this to him will not have the upper hand. Vader is much stronger than any man; a dead one is nothing to him. A few strikes, and he can already feel his opponent weaken before him. Vader will destroy him.
But with the push of the force, Vader is suddenly thrust several feet back. Wet soil drags between gloved metal fingers. He breathes in as he rises and shrugs his shoulders as he exhales. Runs towards Anakin with a yell and his saber held high in the air.
Anakin’s arm is still extended as he watches Vader get up from the ground. A subconscious flick of the wrist spins the lightsaber in his cybernetic hand. It spins behind his back and in front of him, before it violently crashes into Vader’s. Anakin hammers at Vader’s lightsaber with heavy blows enough to separate cybernetics from flesh. Again and again. Vader fights back–oh, how hard he is trying. He towers over Anakin like he’s already won, but his body is a statue crumbling before him. Every red blow weakens him, sends him closer and closer to the ground.
The base of his lightsaber is grasped tightly with both hands above his helmet.
Vader falls to his knees.
And two lightsabers lower.
Anakin raises his chin and looks down at Vader. Through gritted teeth, he tells him to get up. The grip on Vader’s lightsaber loosens in his hand. He asks him again, but not as quietly as before. He yells with a thunderous tone that shakes the trees around them.
Without hesitation, without mercy, the lightsaber swings and aims for the helmet.
Vader pulls the lightsaber in front of him before Anakin can hit him. It takes too much strength to hold Anakin back. Anakin is dead, Vader chants himself, so why has he now dropped to his knees? Why is he unable to move? Why has the lightsaber nearly fallen out of his hands when it has never done so before? Never in front of the thousands, millions of opponents that had faced him.
It takes a ghost, a shadow swinging his blood-red lightsaber for Vader to lose his balance. A black shadow with the voice of a dead man. Burned to coal by the fires of Mustafar.
But he is here.
He is here now with a body untouched by fire. He sees the faces of a man and a child with age lines and battle scars. A river’s reflection of who he used to be, of who he is, of who he isn’t. Of who he was supposed to be had fire not consumed him.
Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
Anakin never tires. He keeps his eye on the helmet. Harder, harder. The field of vision becomes broken and black edges form. The suit starts to fail him, bit by bit things start cracking. The metals and the obsidian made to protect him are faulting. His heart races, and the armor adjusts to it in vain. Hot flashes throughout his body and a single horrifying thought takes over his mind.
The suit can’t keep him alive any longer.
With a kick in the stomach, Anakin sends Vader to the ground. Crackling sparks emit from his chest plate. The green and red lights flicker. The breathing mechanism fractured. He lies on his back, his helmet cracked. Body paralyzed. Vader struggles to breathe. His heart pounds in his chest. And there is nothing but quiet. No stormtroopers. No blasters. No wind or rain or rustling trees. The silence sends him spiralling as slow footsteps approach his side. Lightsaber humming; lifting, lifting, lifting above his head. Darkness fills his vision. Only the line of the lightsaber illuminates the void. He shakes his head and all that comes out of him is a panicked no. Over again. No, no, no. This isn’t happening to him. Not to him, not by him.
Anakin, Anakin, Anakin.
Here now, here to end him—
Remains
His eyes flash open. He regulates his breathing. Tries to. Still fractured. Still paralyzed and unable to rise. Where is he now? His field of vision is a haze, unable to make out anything in the room or place he is in. Is this a hallucination inside the Bacta tank, a trick of the water making him see things? Or is he lying there, on a stretcher surrounded by surgical instruments attaching metal to bare flesh. It must be. It hurts . He flinches in an attempt to move away from the needles that sew him together.
He wants out.
He wants away.
He wants to die.
Then – a sudden touch on his knee. A placed hand. He fails to make out a face in the darkness inside the helmet. But the hand, he recognizes. The hand that was once placed on his shoulder. After battle, in assurance.
“It’s all right, Anakin. Breathe. You’re safe now, my friend.”
The voice. It breaks him. The voice crashes over him, and he just... Can't . Can't stop the rapid flow of air through his lungs. Whatever remains of his vocal chords he had became shattered in screams that cut him up inside like crushed glass. And it’s the last thing he feels. Before the tears join the water that submerge him. Water that has him drowning in anaesthesia along with the memories of future and past. Nothing else matters but the present and where he's going.
There he’ll awake, with a clear mind and clear direction. Black cloak drifting over his empire. This is what he wants.
There he’ll stand, atop manmade planets surrounded by explosions of stardust. Breathing in power, exhaling out fear.
summary; Plot? What plot?
word count; 316 words
a/n; I am, as Taylor Swift says, down bad for Kurt Matheson. Special thanks to @crumblekitty and @vader-anakin for beta-reading this fic. Listen to Burning Desire by Lana Del Rey (slowed + reverb) for the ✨ vibe ✨
content includes; Some sexy themes oooo but nothing too graphic. No use of y/n. Written in 3rd person. Apologies for the bad writing. Also minors look awaaaaay
God, how he wanted her tonight.
Were Kurt’s burning longings too much for her? Too intense, too fast? A part of him wanted to stop and slow things down. Not rush things with her or scare her. He thought back to a time before the night terrors began. It had been a long time since he'd been in a place such as this. Since his skin had caught fire like this.
How did they even get here?
The sheet that covered his power tools became their bed on that cold wooden floor. In that moment, he regretted selling all his furniture. If he hadn't, she could’ve had a soft bed to lie on. But all logic escaped him when her body got on top of his and her voice moaned his name over and over. His hands were up in her hair as he devoured her with lips that starved. And he thought to himself, fuck—a floor or a bed has no significance to him.
Only she matters now.
Oh, God, how badly he wanted her tonight.
For a moment, she made the images of war leave him. Long-forgotten pleasures replaced the horrors. Bloodied battlefield hands became wrapped around her bare waistline. A cocked gun into two fingers in her mouth. Now, when he closed his eyes, it finally felt good. For once, after 5,654 days, it felt good. When she savoured his bottom lip and tear drops formed in his eyes. When she touched him in ways he himself never could. When she washed over him like water on a beach, each time her waves receded, he’d pull her even closer because he didn’t want her to go.
Oh, God, how much he needed her tonight.
Their voices became louder than the rumbling thunder outside his window. The swift storm approaching, hazing up window glass, coming in faster and faster.
It's finally time! After months of writing, my first Star Wars fanfic is finally posted and I really hope you guys like it. In honour of this, I thought I'd do a Q&A. If you guys have any questions at all about Mechanical Mind // Mechanical Body, feel free to send asks ♡
MECHANICAL MIND // MECHANICAL BODY — a star wars story
There he’ll awake, with a clear mind and clear direction. Black cloak drifting over his empire. This is what he wants.
There he’ll stand, atop manmade planets surrounded by explosions of stardust. Breathing in power, exhaling out fear...
Read my new short story MECHANICAL MIND // MECHANICAL BODY on ao3.
I wanted to get a little sappy below the cut for a bit. First of all, thank you if you decided to read this note and Mechanical Mind // Mechanical Body. This story means a lot to me. The idea for this story came to me in a dream. At first, I didn't intend to make anything out of it. But the images of that dream stayed with me in my mind for a long time until I simply had to put them down to paper. I started writing it in November 2023 and it's been a labor of love for the past six months. Dear reader, I sincerely hope you enjoy this story.
Finally, I would like to express my deepest thanks to my best friend @itsladyliv who took the time to beta read Mechanical Mind for me. Your feedback and sweet comments mean the world to me. Couldn't do this without your support 💜
