sh1nigami

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      ⋆ Anakin Skywalker

↳ 🌌 Headcanon: “When You Have a Nightmare” - Anakin Skywalker comforts you after a nightmare

↳ Headcanon: “I’m here. And I’m not leaving.” - You find yourself next to Anakin in his darkest hour - on the verge of falling or right after.

Accidental injury

Sasuke and I were returning from a mission when we suddenly ran into an enemy ambush. The fight was short but intense. I tried to fight back, but the enemy struck me with the blade’s tip in the shoulder. A sharp pain shot through my arm and back, and I barely managed to stay on my feet.

“Hey!” Sasuke rushed to me, his face tense, his eyes flashing with both fury and concern at the same time. “Stay with me!”

He caught me under the arm, supporting my body as I was almost losing consciousness from the pain. My muscles trembled, my breathing faltered, and all I could hear was the pounding of my own heart and his calm, steady, “It’s going to be okay now.”

We managed to take shelter in a small, crumbling building. Sasuke carefully laid me down on the ground, as if he feared that even the slightest movement might cause me more pain. His hands were strong but gentle. He removed my cloak, checking the wound.

“It’s a deep cut,” he said coldly, though a trace of worry slipped into his voice. “I’ll take care of it.”

I tried to hold back a groan as he rinsed the wound with water and carefully applied a bandage. Sasuke moved with precision and professionalism, but his gaze never left me, as if he were trying to make sure I wasn’t hurting more than necessary.

“You’re too stubborn,” he said quietly, almost through clenched teeth, when he finished the bandage. “You shouldn’t have taken such a risk.”

I wanted to argue, but the pain and exhaustion wouldn’t let me. Instead, I simply nodded, feeling how his presence soothed me more than any painkiller ever could.

He took out a small pouch of medicine and some water, crouched down beside me, and placed my arm on his knee, carefully supporting it. There were no words of love in the way he cared for me—only attention, concern, control, and quiet strictness. Yet there was more warmth in it than in any confession.

“Get some sleep,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

You returned late.

Too late.

Your mission had turned into something far worse than anyone had anticipated. Ambushed. Outnumbered. You managed to complete the objective, but it came at a cost. Bruised ribs, a fractured arm, deep cuts across your back and legs. But none of that hurt as much as the look Sasuke gave you when you limped through the village gates.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t scold. Didn’t ask questions.

He just appeared in front of you, silent and still as shadow, eyes narrowing at the sight of the blood soaking through your flak jacket. You expected a sarcastic comment, maybe even cold anger. Instead, he took the scroll from your hands, handed it wordlessly to the nearest medic, then picked you up into his arms without a word.

You tried to protest — weakly.

“I can walk.”

“No, you can’t,” he said softly. And that was the end of it.

He carried you all the way home.

There, he stripped away your ruined gear with care, his hands unusually gentle, unusually quiet. He wasn’t avoiding your gaze — but he wasn’t meeting it either. You watched him move with clinical focus, disinfecting wounds, bandaging cuts with precise, quick fingers. There was tension in his jaw. In his silence.

You tried to break it.

“...I’ve had worse,” you said lightly, half-laughing.

He didn’t answer. Just placed a hand on your shoulder — steady, grounding — and said, “Sleep.”

You didn't fight him anymore. Exhaustion took over. Somewhere between the ache in your chest and the warmth of the blankets, you drifted off.

When you woke, it was dark. And he was still there.

Sitting beside your bed, back against the wall, arms crossed, watching the door like a sentinel.

You stirred, your throat dry. “Sasuke?”

He turned his head. Noticed you were awake. Got up and quietly poured a cup of water, holding it to your lips as you drank.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

He didn’t reply — only sat back down. His eyes didn’t leave you.

After a while, you said, “You’re not going to sleep?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He was quiet for so long you thought he wouldn’t answer. Then, finally:

“Because I thought you wouldn’t come back.”

Something in your chest twisted.

You reached out, weakly, and he took your hand without hesitation — holding it as if it tethered him to something real. Something fragile. Something he couldn’t bear to lose.

“I’m here,” you whispered.

He closed his eyes, just for a moment. Then opened them, gaze sharp and steady again.

“I’m staying.”

You nodded. “Good. Stay.”

He didn’t move closer. Didn’t kiss your forehead or stroke your hair. That wasn’t Sasuke.

But he laid down beside you, his hand still holding yours. As if to say — if you drift again, I’m going with you.

It’s late evening. Training’s long over, no missions loom, and the Temple has fallen into the quiet hum of sleep. You’re sitting together in the dim light of the meditation hall, barefoot, in light clothes, curled on soft floor cushions.

You stretch out lazily and throw out the idea first:

— “Remember that old game? The one where one person thinks of a feeling, and the other has to guess it through the Force?”

Anakin smirks, narrowing his eyes:

— “You’re serious? We’re not Padawans anymore.”

— “What, afraid you’ll lose?”

He scoffs and immediately straightens up, his eyes lighting with challenge:

— “You do want me to prove again that I am the Force incarnate, don’t you?”

— “Prove it. You go first.”

You close your eyes, focusing. Inside you, a warm, gentle emotion blooms. Not passion. Not fear. Something soft. Like a blanket. Like arms holding you in silence.

Anakin squints, brows furrowed in concentration. Then he lifts one eyebrow, a little hesitant:

— “Fatigue?”

You snort.

— “Nope.”

— “Then... boredom?”

— “Anakin!” you laugh. “No! It was love. Quiet love. The kind that feels like home.”

He blinks, a crooked grin tugging at his lips:

— “Well, that’s not fair. You hold that all the time. I got confused.”

Now it’s his turn. He closes his eyes, and instantly, you feel it — a sharp, bright emotion pulsing straight toward you. Bold. Focused. Intense.

You smile, eyes still closed:

— “You want to kiss me.”

He cracks one eye open, scrunches his nose in mock frustration:

— “You read me like an open holobook.”

— “You’re loud, Ani. Even when you’re silent.”

He shifts to his knees, leans in, and presses a kiss to your forehead:

— “You’re my failure in this game. But probably my favorite one.”

You wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his neck:

— “Then lose to me more often.”

He chuckles low against your ear:

You wake in the middle of the night to a sudden movement beside you.

Anakin.

His breathing is ragged, his back tense, fists clenched. He doesn’t scream, doesn’t call out — just fights. Inside himself. Like always.

You sit up and gently place a hand on his shoulder.

— “Ani?”

He flinches. His eyes open — and they’re full of fear. Not for himself. For you. For everything he can’t control. He pulls back slightly, as if afraid you’ll see him like this.

— “Sorry. I… it was just a dream.”

You don’t back away. Instead, you move closer, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and press your forehead to the back of his neck.

— “A dream might be just a dream. But fear? That’s real. What did you see?”

He’s quiet. Then exhales, barely above a whisper:

— “You. Dying. I couldn’t stop it. I stood there, and you just… disappeared. And I knew it was because of me.”

Your heart aches. But you don’t let the fear show. Only warmth. Only presence.

— “You won’t lose me. I’m here. I’m with you.”

He slowly turns, his eyes glistening. He’s not used to crying. But with you — he doesn’t hold back. He doesn’t have to.

You place your hands gently on his face, brushing away the last traces of the nightmare.

— “You’re not a monster, Anakin. You’re human. And your pain doesn’t make you weak. I love you — not in spite of it, but with it.”

He leans into your neck, like it’s the only place the darkness can’t touch him.

— “You’re my light…” he whispers. “And if it all goes dark someday — I’ll still look for you. Always.”

You run your fingers through his hair, softly.

— “You won’t lose me. Because I won’t let go.”

🌌 Headcanon: “When You Have a Nightmare”

(Set between Episodes II and III; you and Anakin are in a secret relationship)

The night was quiet — too quiet for Coruscant. Far away, ships still hummed in the air lanes, but here, in a hidden corner of the Jedi Temple, silence felt almost serene. Almost.

You woke up suddenly — your breath uneven, pulse racing, heart pounding. A nightmare. So vivid, your hands trembled as if you’d just come out of battle. You saw him fall. Anakin. You screamed for him, called his name, but he never answered. In your dream, he disappeared — like smoke slipping through your fingers.

You sat up in bed, arms wrapped around your knees, trying to convince yourself it was just a dream. But the feeling — that overwhelming fear of losing him — lingered like a shadow.

A few minutes passed before the door to your quarters slid open. Quietly. Almost soundlessly. — "I felt something was wrong," came that familiar, warm voice.

Anakin stood in the doorway, dressed in dark sleep clothes, his hair slightly tousled, eyes filled with concern. He shouldn’t be here. No one was supposed to know. But he didn’t care. Not tonight.

— "You were crying in your sleep," he added, stepping closer. "I felt it through the Force."

You looked away, vulnerable and a little embarrassed. — “It was just a dream...” — "No," he said gently, interrupting. "Not just a dream."

He sat down beside you, wrapping you in his arms. His touch was warm and strong, as if he could hold back the nightmares themselves. He didn’t press for details — he just held you, silently, until your trembling began to ease.

— "I’m not going anywhere," he whispered, burying his face in your hair. "I promise. I won’t let anything happen to me... or to you."

You gave a small, shaky smile. — “Promises aren’t exactly Jedi-like.” — "Yeah, well... I’ve never been a very good Jedi." His voice was light, teasing — but the look in his eyes remained serious.

He stayed with you until morning. Lying beside you, holding your hand. Sometimes he would brush his fingers gently along your cheek, like he was reminding himself you were real — and safe. More than once he whispered that he loved you, so softly it felt like a prayer.