Two Halfs of One Warrior • Obikin/Vaderwan One-Shots

That Golden Fiddle

• Summary: “Don’t fuck around with this,” she’d said. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.” Ahsoka was always the more levelheaded of the two of them, though that really wasn’t saying much.

Anakin had snorted, casting an annoyed look in her direction. “Yeah, because by chanting some words in Latin, the devil himself is going to show up in my living room. Sure, Snips.”

Unfortunately, Anakin is, usually, wrong.

Or: Anakin summons the devil. The devil is hot. This causes problems.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Anakin was, most assuredly, in a bind. The ritual wasn’t supposed to work. When Ahsoka had said she’d found a devil-summoning ritual in some old book, he’d thought it was just a joke.

“Don’t fuck around with this,” she’d said. “You don’t know what you’re messing with.” Ahsoka was always the more levelheaded of the two of them, though that really wasn’t saying much.

Anakin had snorted, casting an annoyed look in her direction. “Yeah, because by chanting some words in Latin, the devil himself is going to show up in my living room. Sure, Snips.”

Unfortunately, Anakin is, usually, wrong. Or, he’d like to think so, at least, considering there was now a man in his living room who hadn’t been there ten seconds ago, delicately perched on the arm of his couch with a martini glass in hand.

The ritual hadn’t even been complex! Just some blood from a chicken (that Anakin had acquired from his step-dad who happily knew a butcher, and who was also used to Anakin’s weird and off-putting requests) and a specific candle he’d had to go all the way to the suburbs to acquire from some edgy nineteen year old with an Etsy.

There was simply no way those two items plus a little chant in badly-pronounced Latin summoned the fucking devil .

And yet.

“Hello there,” the man purred. It literally almost sounded like a purr, as if he were part cat. It was inhuman.

Anakin gaped.

The man arched an eyebrow, gently twirling his drink. Without even blinking, the martini glass refilled. Anakin felt faint.

“I assume you brought me here for a reason,” the man said, eyes moving back to his drink. “I’m very busy, you see.”

Anakin’s mouth opened and closed a few times, his throat suddenly dry. After a few moments of looking like a dying fish, he finally cleared his throat.

“I-“ he shook his head, taking a step back. “This shouldn’t have worked.”

The man’s eyes, a light blue gray, seemed to light up in anticipation at this. “And yet it did, Anakin.”

Anakin made a sound in the back of his throat— maybe he should be concerned about how the man knew his name, but the way he said it, Ah-nakin , went straight to his groin.