★

his boots thumbed loud over the temple's tiled floor, his grip hard on his lightsaber, the blue blade hidden for now, the hood of his cloak put down over his face. he could hear faint sounds of saber swords swinging through the air, fights and children cries as the chaos upscaled around him, but he didn't back down. no, he loved it. he was the cause of this.

the doors opened in front of him, leading him into the council room, a small smirk playing on his lips as he was met with little kids looking at him fondly, thinking he's there to help them, all of them walking out of their hiding spots.

"master skywalker, there's too many of them, what are we going to do?" one of the boys asked him, hes scared but hopeful eyes looking up at anakin. but he didnt say anything, instead, he lighted up his lightsaber, scaring the younglings.

he was not there to help… not at all.

as soon as he hid his blade after done deal, the doors of the council room opened before him, making him buzz the lightsaber back to life, swirling it through the air as he suddenly turned around, taking the person behind him by surprise. he didn't kill them tho, the blue sword stopping right at their neck.

"y/n" anakin's voice resounded through the room, quiet and low. you had seen what he had done, you're one of those he should kill just now, but he didn't move his blade any further. he could see the fear in your eyes as your gaze darted between him, the blade at your neck and the bloody massacre behind him.

"you're coming with me" he said. it was an order, not a question, leaving you no room to argue even if you'd be brave enough to do so as he hid his blade, placing it swiftly in his sword belt, hooking his arms under your knees and back, picking you up bridal style and carrying you out of the council room and then out of the temple. 

"cut her out of the list" he said harshly to one of the passing by troopers, knowing he better keep you save in all possible ways, including the list of who they should kill right now. 

you didn't even argue, just let him do what he wants, having more sense in you than blind 'bravery' they'd call it if you tried to fight. it might not be the jedi way, but a survival way for sure.

"don't worry angel, you're safe with me" his voice was low, sexy even, yet making you melt despite being held capture by the chosen one who had just turned to the dark side. somehow it indeed made you feel safe, despite knowing well you'll have to agree with him on everything he does from now on, which equaled turning to the dark side. 

he was very gentle as he stepped onto his ship, settling you down on the passager seat and buckling you up himself, before taking off somewhere you didn't know. you watched him the whole flight. his knowing smirk that curved those pretty lips up as he felt your gaze locked on him. 

you were getting less and less cared of him, just… giving in to whatever plan he was having for you, and you didn't know why… but you didn't complain either. something in the way he treated you now was silencing the voices that wanted you to stay on the good side of the force.

"you're mine now, angel" anakin spoke in a dangerous tone as the shipped landed on mustafar, his head snapping to look at you "a beautiful queen to my new empire" he stepped close to where you were seated, his gloved hand grabbing your chin with surprising gentleness as his thumb traced over your bottom lip. 

he unbuckles your seat belt, and you stood up, wanting to just follow after him, but he chuckled. "queens don't walk themselves, angel" he said, picking you up again and stepping off of the ship, walking through the dangerous steps of mustafar, up to a safer floor. was he… genuinely being soft right now? 

"you are mine now, you understand that angel?" he said, the hand he had on your back rubbed it softly as he walked 

Sam Monroe had messed up. Maybe punching his Italian teacher in the face hadn't been the best idea he'd had, but it wasn't the worst either. In Sam's eyes, it was justified; Mr. Philips had dared to mention his dead father, and those were the consequences.

The judge sentenced him to two months of house arrest. At first, it didn't seem so bad; in fact, he was enjoying it. He spent his days playing video games with his friends and drinking Monster Energy from a can. But then his mother cut off the internet, and his house became a veritable prison. He was so bored that he started doing anything.

Literally anything.

He took the breakfast buns, still in their wrappers, and stacked them together with glue to create a tower. He decorated his ugly plastic anklet, which beeped if he left the house, with a skull, and flipped through punk magazines, masturbating to the female models. But after a few days, nothing seemed fun anymore, so in a desperate act, he grabbed his old binoculars that he used when he went camping and started looking out the window.

It turned out that this was much more entertaining than all he had done yet. Within a few days, he had memorized his neighbors' routines. The woman across the street, Mrs. Braun, went out every day at 6 PM to walk her Maltese dog. The neighbor on the right had a plastic, blonde mistress whom he brought home every three days when his wife left with their kid to go grocery shopping. Ed Caskey, the mailman, delivered the mail every day at six in the morning and always tripped on Sam's porch step. Sam laughed every time he saw him lose his balance. Would he fall this time? Or maybe not.

Then something changed within the routine he had grown accustomed to. On the Tuesday of the fourth week of his house arrest, a moving truck appeared at the house on the left. He quickly grabbed his binoculars and saw you wearing shorts that looked too tiny to him, a short-sleeved top that hugged your torso perfectly, and your beautiful hair falling over your shoulders. You had captivated him, and he hated it. He tried to ignore you, but it was impossible. Especially when you went to your backyard in the afternoons and took a dip in the pool. The first time he saw you take off your clothes to reveal your white ‘near thong' bikini, he thought he was going to have a heart attack.

—That's it— he murmured as you dropped the dress you were wearing to the floor. Your legs looked soft and hypnotic. Then you dove into the water, swam a few laps, and lay back on the lounge, sunbathing while listening to music on your iPod. To him, it was like watching an R-rated show, but through his window.

You've never talked, and he thought it was unlikely to happen, because you seemed cool and popular, while he was under house arrest and had a Radiohead poster by his bed. But once, as he went out to pick up the newspaper within the limits of his anklet allowed, his eyes met yours. He stopped breathing at that moment.

—Hi— you said softly. Your voice sounded much sexier than he'd imagined.

He struggled to answer, «Say hi, you idiot» .

—Hi— he stammered. Fuck, he didn't stutter, especially not over a girl.

You gave him a tender smile and, with a chuckle, walked back home. He froze; he'd certainly made a fool of himself.

Later, he saw you arguing with your father through your bedroom window. He couldn't hear what you were saying, but you seemed angry, and that made him feel a strange sensation on his chest. When your father left the room slamming the door, you opened the window and climbed onto the roof. Sam knew you loved that place; you spent more time there than in your room. You read, listened to music, sunbathed, and sometimes even cried.

Another thing he loved was watching you exercise, how you'd lie on the mat on the floor and arch your back like a cat, wearing only a pink sports bra and tight leggings of the same color. It was almost pornographic. Sometimes you'd go for a run down the street, but he didn't enjoy that as much as watching you stretch and writhe on your bedroom floor. You were so elastic, and he wondered if you'd be elastic when he fucked you…

But one day while you were doing your workout, you looked at him —for a few seconds— but you looked at him. You realized he was there, with his binoculars. He immediately fell to the floor, his cheeks red with embarrassment.

If it wasn't enough that he had stuttered when you first spoke, now you'd caught him spying on you! He was an idiot. His heart was racing. He dared to look up from his desk at your window, but you were gone.

Where had you gone?

Ding-dong

He felt his stomach drop to the floor. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. With trembling hands and a racing pulse, he approached the door and looked through the peephole.

And there you were, in your pink gym clothes, looking gorgeous. He swallowed hard and opened the door.

To his surprise, you weren't angry. You greeted him politely and began to talk.

—I've noticed you don't leave the house much. Are you okay?— you said with feigned concern. He was expecting a direct confrontation, so it caught him off guard.

—Uh, yeah, well, I'm under domiciliary arrest…— You walked through the door, even though you hadn't been invited in, and with light steps but without running, you headed for the stairs.

—Hmm, wow, what did you do?— you asked, already heading upstairs. Sam followed you through the house, nervous as he was, walking quickly, and you also quickened your pace. You opened the doors to each room on the floor until you found his. When you reached the end of the hallway, Sam stood between you and the last door left to open.

—I don't recommend you go in, it's all a mess— he said, breathing heavily. You gave him a tender look that made him give up and let you in. And it was true, his room was a mess! There were clothes strewn everywhere, unfinished food containers, Lego pieces on the floor, and a very strong smell permeated the room.

—You weren't lying— you said, picking a pair of dirty underwear off a chair with your fingertips and throwing them at his chest with an amused smile. Sam grabbed all the trash he could and piled it in a corner of the room.

—I don't lie— he said, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand.

You scanned the room, analyzing everything you saw. From the gang stickers stuck to the closet to the black binoculars resting on the windowsill. You picked them up and brought them up to your eyes at the same angle they were positioned, giving you a complete view of your room and backyard.

You turned to him with a mocking expression, binoculars in hand.

—So you won't deny that you're spying on me— He opened his mouth to apologize, but he couldn't see how. Your gaze was now stern, and it scared him. There were a few seconds of silence that seemed to drag on.

—I'm sorry— he apologized, his head down.

Then, after a few seconds of looking at him in disgust, arms crossed over your chest, you laughed, dissipating the tense atmosphere that had built up.

—It was a joke— You turned back to the window, the device in your eyes. Sam let out all the air he'd been holding and came up behind you. —So this is what you do for fun.

You turned your gaze to the house across the street, where Mrs. Braun was coming out with her little dog.

—Maybe it will comfort you to know you're not my only victim— he said. But you were his favorite one.

His eyes fixed on your tight ass in those flattering tights. You were still looking through the binoculars, unaware of anything.

—In thirteen days, I've learned a lot about the people in the neighborhood. You wouldn't believe the things people do when they think no one's looking.

He had your attention.

—Tell me.

Sam took you by the shoulders and pointed to what he wanted you to look at.

—Do you see her? Mrs. Braun?

You nodded.

—Every day she goes out at the same time to walk her dog, Gretchen— you smiled, thinking it was cute.

—So?

—And, every day she comes home happier than when she left— then he pointed to a shop at the end of the street, and you followed him. You saw Mrs. Braun leave the dog tied to the railing and go inside. —She spends more than two hours in that shop and leaves Gretchen alone outside. That 'flower shop' is a gambling den.

You gasped in surprise, making Sam smile. He watched you, spellbound; you were prettier up close than through his window.

—What about Igor Porter?— you asked, pointing at the house on your right.

—Mr. Porter is the most interesting guy in the neighborhood— he began, daring to run the ends of your hair between his fingers, twirling them.

—Do you see the red car in front of the door?

—The one with the tinted windows?

—Mhm, wait and see

Mrs. Porter came out of the house a few seconds later with seven-year-old Barry. The boy was holding his mother's hand as she pushed an empty shopping cart.

—Wait a little more…— a few minutes later, the scarlet car door opened, revealing a stunning woman with blond hair, firm breasts, and a tiny waist. Igor Porter came out of the house almost immediately, and the girl practically threw herself into his arms. Mr. Porter kissed her, and now you were genuinely shocked.

You had just discovered an infidelity.

—Oh my God— you gasped, removing the device from your eyes.

—It's strong, isn't it?— You looked at him through your eyelashes with an incredulous smile.

—It is.

You spent the following weeks going to Sam's house. After all, your parents had gone on vacation to the beach with your sister, and as punishment for your bad behavior, your father had decided to keep you at home. You cried and begged, but none of it worked to get them to take you with them. You loved the beach.

Although you liked being with Sam; he was very different from all the boys you'd ever met: direct, sarcastic, and emo.

‘I'm punk, not emo. They're totally different things,’ he'd say.

‘Sure’ you'd reply.

You liked to tease him. You knew he was spying on you, so when you wanted to be seen, you'd open the blinds and do a little show for him, stripping with your back to the window or strolling around the room in your best underwear. Sometimes you'd pretend to be asleep in provocative poses, slightly lifting your ass in the air and spreading your legs a little. You’d like to imagine him with his cock in his hand, pumping rapidly and moaning your name.

Although nothing was far from reality.

But despite the flirting, you had struck up a good friendship. You told him about your old life in the other city, and he listened attentively; it was good for him to listen to real people because of the isolation. Sam liked listening to you; he thought your voice was sexy and soothing, he believed you had a fascinating way of thinking and that he could spend hours listening to you talk about anything.

You were Sam's errand girl when his mother was too tired to go herself to buy him new CDs, Monster, or pick up his sushi orders.

You also sometimes went out for walks around the city. On one of those walks, you met Claire, a girl very similar to you, with whom you quickly became friends. One thing led to another, and you ended up giving in to having a party at your house.

—Are you hosting a party?— Sam asked you, sounding offended.

—Yes— you affirmed, grabbing your bag to go home and get ready.

—And what about me?"

—You can't leave the house, Sam— you reminded him.

—I thought you didn't have any friends here— he quoted what you said a few days ago.

—And I don't. I met Claire recently and decided to give up my house to meet more people— you explained, tying your shoes.

—It's not fair— he complained, frowning.

You went back to your house despite Sam's pleas and went straight to the shower. Then you changed—with the curtains open but with your back to him—and put on your makeup. You wore a short, sleeveless, tight beige dress that accentuated your figure. It blended with your tanned skin.

Claire arrived first, with a few familiar faces, but from then on, anyone could enter your house. After an hour, your house was full of strangers, the music was loud, and alcohol was coursing through everyone's veins. You went out to the backyard, where your friend introduced you to several guys, all very friendly and very touchy, putting their arms around your waist or gently taking your arm between their fingers.

You noticed someone staring at you and occasionally glanced toward Sam's window. You couldn't see him because of the darkness, but you knew he was there, lurking.

Then classical music, clashing with the party music playing through your speakers, began to play from the black-haired’s house. All the guests turned around in confusion, but you were angry. Really angry. Since you had moved in, you felt extremely lonely. You had many friends in your old home and were used to always being surrounded by people. You felt trapped and out of place here. That party was the perfect opportunity to fit in, and Sam was ruining it with his childish games.

You rang the doorbell, and he appeared with an unbearable grin on his face.

—What's up?— he asked mockingly, but you'd already pushed him aside and were running toward his room. Sam chased you but tripped on the steps and fell behind. You found the amplifier that was playing music, connected to the boy's phone. You ripped out the wires connecting them and opened the window. Sam appeared in the doorway and approached you cautiously, his smile gone.

—Give me that— he ordered, holding out his hand.

—No!

—Come on, please give me that— he tried to snatch the phone from your hands, but you pushed it further away and threatened to throw it out the window.

—You're ruining everything!— you said, overwhelmed.

—I don't know what you're talking about...

—Of course you know! I'm trying to fit in. I'm lonely! It's not enough for all of us to spy on our neighbors through the window— you rebuked him.

—I haven't spied on you again!— he lied to himself as she rolled her spiked bracelet onto her wrist.

—That's a lie, Sam! I saw you, and you know I saw you!

He hung his head in shame.

—How long have you been staring at me? A week? Two? Since I moved out?— you gripped the iPod tightly, anger rising. —So what is it, Sam? Huh? What else have you seen?

—What else have I seen?— he asked, approaching slowly.

—Yeah. What else?

—Okay I've seen how you always pull your kleenex from the box in groups of three. Not two, not four, always three. I've seen you're the only one in the world who eats pizza-flavored Pringles. And you never stuff the chips in, you savor each one by dividing it into four precise bites. I didn't know that was even possible. You're also the first girl I've ever seen who spends more time on her roof than in her own house. And what do you do out there? You don't talk on the phone, you don't paint your nails, you read books. Now one would think with the whole numbers thing you've got going on that you'd put them on your shelf alphabetically, but you don't. Your system's much more perfect. The ones you like go on the bottom, the ones you love go in the middle, and the ones you need, the ones you keep. going back to... well they go straight to the top next to the dream encyclopedia. You know what all this tells me? You know how things should be. The world according to you. And guess what? It's a very entertaining and beautiful thing. Even when it takes a hit. When you end up in a place like this... when your parents dump their baggage on you, or just... when it seems like those curveballs are never gonna stop you know It sucks, but just so I get it. And even if no one else has, I've noticed that. And I ain't sorry. The only thing I'll even consider apologizing for is... not dropping the binoculars and telling you this a lot sooner…

A long beat as you peered into Sam's eyes. You slowly stepped closer to him.

—That was either the creepiest... or the sweetest thing I've ever heard— you said a few centimeters of his face.

Sam leans in and kisses you. His tongue intertwines with yours deliciously. You feel the piercing in his lower lip and catch it between your teeth, making him moan. His arms wrap around your waist and you walk together until he gently lays you down on the bed. Your hands clasp either side of his head and your legs intertwine around his hips as he climbs on top of you.

Anakin still hadn’t adjusted to the feeling of his robotic hand. It worked, of course, more than worked. It was fast, responsive, and precise. He could catch himself from a fall or stop a speeder bike mid-flight with it. It wielded a lightsaber with lethal elegance, performed all the flourishes and maneuvers he was known for. It never ached, never bruised, never bled.

But it also didn’t feel. Not really.

It was nothing where it should’ve been warm. It didn’t carry the current of the Force the way his natural hand had. It didn’t register the softness of your skin, the shape of your fingers when they threaded through his, or the subtle, loving pressure of your thumb against his knuckles.

And that... affected him more than he ever admitted aloud.

He’d tried, once or twice, to talk about it with Obi-Wan or other Jedi, only to be quickly dismissed with stoic Jedi platitudes. The Force is within you. Attachment clouds the mind. Accept, let go, move forward. But none of it lessened the sting. None of it gave him you back, the feeling of you, through his fingertips.

Anakin hated how small his grief made him feel in the face of a galaxy unraveling: war on every front, thousands dying, the Republic fracturing. How could he complain about a hand, when the galaxy was collapsing?

But the truth was, that pain, that dull ache in his phantom limb, the agonizing, phantom twist of nerves, was real. And you saw it before anyone else did.

The night you were rescued from Geonosis, he thought he’d hidden it well. The pain, the shame. But you’d found him curled into himself in the dark, a quiet whimper giving him away. At that time, there was no prosthetic yet. Just the raw, bandaged stump of what had once been.

You hadn’t looked at him with pity. You hadn’t flinched. In fact, you’d managed to make him laugh by giving Master Windu  the middle finger in silent rebellion the moment the Council member left the medbay, after all the Jedi master scolded Anakin for losing his hand, so, it’s kinda worth it. He’d been mortified, but your whispered jokes were like balm over open wounds.

You visited him every day after that, bringing warmth and laughter to a place that had never been designed for either. Jedi Healers frowned at you, you weren’t a Jedi, and you certainly weren’t subtle, but they couldn’t argue with the effect you had on Anakin, how it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders whenever you were around.

You sat with him through every round of physical therapy, your fingers curled around his when he struggled. Even when he sulked, grumbling that squeezing a ball was useless, you stayed. Through it all.

And even after his release, when Obi-Wan returned him to training and your time together grew scarce, you found ways to be near him. You still reached for his mechanical hand like it was no different. You still laced your fingers through his metal ones and brought them to your lips, pressing kisses to cool joints and golden plating. He always tried to play it off, stoic, unbothered, but it stirred something deep inside him every time. You loved all of him, even the parts he could barely face himself.

That morning, the Senate building buzzed with anticipation. Padmé was scheduled to give a welcome speech, open to the public, with new citizens and representatives in attendance. You and Anakin stood just outside her office, where she was deep in a meeting with senators who shared her political ideals. You’d been politely, but firmly, dismissed by Bail as he assured only senators are allowed inside.

Anakin drifted to the tall windows, his gaze focused on the skyline beyond. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. The golden haze of sunrise struggled to pierce through the smog, the silhouettes of high-rises stretching like sentinels above the chaos of the Republic's capital. Beautiful, in its own way. But colder, harder.

And yet… no sunrise could compare to you.

You stood in that light, radiant and still, the glow wrapping around your features like a halo. The soft warmth of the sun painted your skin, your cheeks tinged with a blush that seemed half light, half smile.

“What?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through his thoughts. Your eyes met his, eyes he could never stop drowning in, and Anakin felt the breath catch in his throat.

“Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just looking at you.”

He reached out, his mechanical hand brushing your cheek with surprising gentleness. But then, a lock of your hair caught in the seam of the plating. His breath stilled, panic flickering across his face. He froze, unsure, too afraid to pull, too ashamed to move.

“I’m sorry, this thing—” he stammered, cheeks flushing.

“It’s okay, Ani,” you murmured, brushing the strand free yourself. Your smile never wavered as you keep your voice calm, loving and tender.

He looked away, the shame creeping back into his expression. “I hate this,” he muttered, voice low. “It’s not just in the way. It’s me. It’s part of me now. And it’s not… right.”

Gently, you took his mechanical hand in both of yours. You lifted it, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the metal knuckles, letting your lips linger there for a moment longer.

“Why do you still love me,” Anakin whispered, his voice fraying at the edges, “even though I’m not whole anymore?”

“Anakin,” you said his name with quiet strength, guiding his gaze back to yours. Your hand rested flat against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Why wouldn’t I?”

He blinked, caught in the intensity of your eyes.

“I love you,” you continued, voice like sweet honey, “for what’s here. For who you are, not what your hand looks like.”

And then, with a teasing little grin, you added, “And for the record… your mechanical hand kind of makes you hotter.”

That earned a breathy laugh from him, the blush on his cheeks deepening as the tips of his ears turned red. You saw it, the way his soul softened in that moment, the way the weight of doubt slipped off his shoulders, just for a little while.

And in your arms, metal and all, he finally allowed himself to believe that maybe he really could be loved like this.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper @seventeen-x@user-3113s-blog @glitterfittans @bitter-semi-sweet @lortheswiftie @wizzerreblogs @heyitsbeeeb @browneyedgirly93 @f1wh0recom @tvdelrey @kiyotofish @kers505

High on a hill, you called

Two lovers regret their time

Once in a blue moon, I forget you

And once in your life, you'll be mine

The stars shimmered in the night sky over Tatooine, streaks of purple and pink stretching across the horizon. Unlike Naboo’s velvet darkness dotted with twinkling stars, Tatooine’s night was vast and sharp, painted in hues of dusk that never quite faded into black. The twin suns had long set, leaving behind a chill that gnawed at your skin, nothing like the warm breeze of your home. The desert was bone-deep cold, the kind of cold that made you instinctively burrow closer into Anakin’s chest for warmth.

He held you without a word, his thoughts still tangled in grief and guilt, his mother’s loss hanging heavy in the air around you. So you offered him your silence, your stillness, your steady heartbeat, letting him find peace in your presence. Together, you curled up on the roof of the Lars’ homestead, wrapped in one of Shmi’s handmade blankets, its soft fibers still holding the warmth of a woman who’d loved fiercely, and lost everything.

The quiet stretched between you, filled only by the hiss of sand shifting across stone and the soft whistle of wind. Anakin’s hand found yours beneath the blanket, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of your palm in slow, calming circles. You let him, if it helped ease even a fraction of the weight he carried, you would have let him trace your entire soul.

“I wouldn’t have guessed a planet that burns like fire during the day could freeze like this at night,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the blanket.

Anakin’s arm tightened around you, tugging the fabric up to your chin. “It’s just desert physics, baby,” he replied softly, the tease in his tone making your heart flutter. There he was, your Anakin, returning to you piece by piece.

“I’ve never been in a desert before,” you pouted playfully, and he chuckled, turning to watch the sand whirl into tiny storms below.

“You’re not missing much,” he muttered. “I don’t like sand. It’s coarse, rough, irritating… and it gets everywhere.” His voice faded, like the memory of something bitter lingering on his tongue. His gaze was fixed far away, anchored in the past.

You glanced at him, watching the flicker of emotion in his eyes. His jaw was clenched, like he was biting down on something too painful to speak. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he added, “It’s nothing like Naboo. Everything there is soft… smooth.”

As if drawn by gravity, his hand slipped to your bare shoulder, his thumb moved with the kind of reverence that broke your breath. That simple touch carried more intimacy than any words ever could, it was quiet devotion, unspoken longing. It was Anakin, stripped of his titles and trauma, being held steady by your presence.

“We can go back,” you whispered. “Swim, dive, explore the forest around the palace… just the two of us.”

He turned his head to look at you, and in his smile was something sad, something tender. A look that said he wanted to believe you, to live inside that hope, but didn’t dare.

“I’m a Jedi,” he said quietly, as though reciting a mantra he no longer believed. “We’re not allowed to follow desire.”

You tilted your head. “But do Jedi stop dreaming?”

He didn’t answer. So you took his silence and filled it with a dream of your own. “Let’s pretend... just for tonigh, let me dream about you.”

He watched you lie back on the blanket, your eyes fluttering closed, and he followed, almost instinctively, leaning beside you until his shoulder brushed yours.

“Close your eyes,” you whispered. “Picture the warmth of the sun on your face, the tickle of grass on your cheek when we roll down the hills… Imagine the scent of wildflowers, butterflies circling us, and the sound of laughter carried on the wind. Imagine our hearts finding the same rhythm, soft, steady, completely at peace.”

And Anakin, for the first time in too long, allowed himself to imagine a life not ruled by fear, duty, or war. In the canvas of your words, he painted a world where you were his and he was yours. He imagined your arms around him, the feel of your body curled into his, your lips brushing his in a kiss that rewrote the stars. He imagined a galaxy where he could stay.

And when sleep came, it found him smiling, with you in his arms, his head against yours, Anakin finally dreamed of something beautiful.

┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .

Anakin stood at the ship’s console, fingers moving with practiced precision as he prepared for your return to Naboo. But just as the engines hummed to life, the holoprojector blinked, casting Obi-Wan’s flickering image into the air. His voice was strained, urgent, he had been captured by the Separatists on Geonosis.

Anakin froze, his mind reeling. The logical course of action was clear: transmit the coordinates to the Jedi Council and wait. But it was Obi-Wan, his master, his brother, his anchor. Waiting wasn’t an option. Reckless and desperate, he turned to Senator Amidala and begged for permission to go after him. And of course, Padmé, with the good soul that she was, gave permission to go on this mission.

The ship touched down in the jagged shadow of a crater carved into the red cliffs of Geonosis, tucked away from enemy eyes. Anakin powered down the engines and activated the locator beacon for the Jedi, in case the worst happened and they needed a way out. Tension hung thick in the air as he turned to where you and Padmé stood at the entrance, ready to disembark, but before you could step forward, Anakin’s arm shot out in front of you, blocking your path.

“Excuse me?” you blinked, arching an eyebrow.

“You should stay here,” he said, his voice softer than you expected, his blue eyes were pleading. “It’s dangerous out there.”

You crossed your arms, unwavering. “Anakin, if you lock me in here, I’ll find a way to get out. So how about we just go together, take care of all this mess, and deal with the arguing later?”

The corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself. You were stubborn, beautifully, exasperatingly stubborn. With a defeated sigh, he lowered his arm.

“Stay close to me, okay?” he murmured, his hand instinctively resting on your back as you stepped into the dry, suffocating heat of the canyon.

The three of you made your way toward the towering arena in the distance, but your mission didn’t last long. The Separatists were already waiting, you didn’t even have time to shout a warning before the Geonosians descended like insects, separating and capturing you. Padmé, was a senator, the important figure, so she was carted off alone, while you and Anakin found yourselves bound in the back of a second transport, headed for the arena.

You sat together, wrists cuffed, the vibration of the carriage rattling your bones. Your heart hammered with fear, but more than anything, with regret.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have insisted on coming. If I had stayed”

“Stop,” Anakin interrupted gently, lifting his chained hands to brush your chin, turning your gaze to him. “This was going to happen anyway. We were doomed the moment we came without a plan.”

He paused, his eyes softening. “But if I’m going to die today… then I want the last thing I see to be your pretty face.”

A breath hitched in your throat.

“It’s not over,” you whispered fiercely, blinking back the sting of tears. “But if this is where it ends, then let’s not waste another second. Let’s stop hiding. Let’s do what we’re always so afraid to do.”

You inhaled sharply, willing your courage not to fail you. “I love you, Anakin. I know I shouldn’t. I know this all happened so fast. And I know your heart belongs to my sister, but…” your voice cracked, “I couldn’t die without telling you the truth.”

Anakin froze, your words hit him like a starfighter blast to the chest, his heart pounded, his mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing at once. But all he could see was you. You, with tears in your eyes and love in your voice.

“What are you talking about?” he asked, stunned. “Padmé? What does she?”

You gave him a wounded look, lips trembling. “I saw you two kiss. You don’t have to lie to protect me. I can take it.”

And then, he laughed. Not mockingly, but with a rush of relief that made your cheeks flush with confusion.

“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes wide with apology. “It’s just, Padmé kissed me, yes. But it meant nothing. I loved her once, maybe, I thought I did. But when she kissed me, all I could think about was you. Wishing it was your lips. Your hands. Your heart.”

Your heart jump in your chest.

“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he continued, voice low, urgent, “but that kiss made everything clear. I don’t love her, not like that. She’s a friend, maybe always will be. But you… You’ve captured me, completely. My thoughts, my heart… they’re already yours.”

His words wrapped around you like a forcefield, shielding you from the chaos beyond the carriage.

“If you want me,” he whispered, “say the word. I’ll be yours, now, always, till forever falls apart. Because even if I tried, I couldn't stop loving you. My heart only beats for you.”

Tears slipped silently down your cheeks, but they were tears of wonder, of disbelief, of joy. “I love you too,” you whispered.

The air between you shimmered with tension and yearning, and when he leaned in, you met him halfway. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was reverent. The soft press of his lips against yours sent a thrill through your soul, as if the galaxy had paused for your moment.

His touch was shaky, tender, the warmth of his mouth melting into yours, and for a moment, just one, you forgot about the arena, the war, the cuffs. There was only the gravity of his love pulling you in, grounding you, anchoring you to him.

The chains clinked as he cupped your cheek with both hands, desperate to touch you, even if only a little. Your fingers curled around his sleeves, holding him close. When you finally broke apart, your foreheads touched, eyes half-lidded with quiet awe. The carriage jolted. The arena was near.

“You make me want to survive this,” Anakin whispered, his voice shaking with quiet resolve. “Just to have one more kiss.”

You smiled, wiping your tears. “Then let’s survive it.”

And as the doors began to open, revealing the roar of the arena beyond, you didn’t let go. Not yet, not until the last second. Because in this cruel, war-torn galaxy, love like yours was rare and worth fighting for.

*''

The image of Obi-Wan, shackled with his arms bound high above his head to one of the arena’s towering rock pillars, was more than unsettling, it was devastating. You’d known what to expect, but seeing him like that, stripped of his defenses, battle-worn and surrounded, struck a cruel chord against everything you believed about Jedi invincibility. The stories, the legends… none had prepared you for this.

“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan demanded, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin was dragged forward, bound in the same manner beside him.

“We came to rescue you, Master,” Anakin muttered, a mix of frustration and guilt simmering in his voice as he futilely pulled against his restraints. The metal bit cruelly into his skin, his wrists already red from the friction.

Obi-Wan arched a brow, ginger hair falling into his eyes. “And you're doing a magnificent job.”

“Don’t be like that, Master” Anakin started, but stopped himself when Obi-Wan flicked his gaze toward Padmé, who had already freed herself and was expertly scaling the pillar with agility that defied her senatorial grace.

“Clips,” you breathed with sudden realization. “Oh, sis, you’re a genius.”

You mimicked Padmé’s cleverness, yanking one of the decorative clips from your hair and working quickly at the cuffs. And then everything exploded into motion.

Anakin and Obi-Wan recovered their lightsabers with near-simultaneous precision, slicing through their bindings and leaping into action. The beasts released into the arena roared as the Jedi danced around them with graceful brutality, their lightsabers painting arcs of brilliant color across the dusty battlefield. You and Padmé seized stolen blasters from fallen Geonosians and fired with deadly precision.

Anakin was radiant in the chaos, his strength, his resolve, the way he moved like a storm unleashed. When he leapt onto the back of a wild reek, his robes flaring and lightsaber flashing, your heart caught in your throat. He reached down for you, and without hesitation, you took his hand.

You slid up behind him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, your cheek brushing the rough fabric of his tunic as the creature charged. You held on as he steered the beast with reckless control, and while one hand gripped his waist, your other was steady, firing blasts into the swarm of droids and Geonosians alike. The two of you moved like one, intuitive, seamless, bound by something stronger than adrenaline.

But the battle escalated beyond anything you could control.

Separatist droids multiplied like shadows, swarming the arena floor, victory seemed out of reach. Then, piercing the haze of dust and chaos, the Republic gunships descended from the sky like avenging angels, their shining hulls splitting through the atmosphere. White-armored clones poured from them, their numbers turning the tide.

And yet… Anakin was already gone.

You turned in time to see him vault from the beast and sprint across the arena toward Count Dooku’s escape route, his lightsaber blazing.

“ANAKIN!” you screamed, panic tearing from your chest. Obi-Wan shouted after him too, voice sharp with warning, but Anakin was already gone, driven by something stronger than reason.

Fueled by grief and vengeance, Anakin couldn’t hear anything over the roar in his blood. Dooku wasn’t just the enemy, he was the architect of everything. The war. The attacks. The death of Shmi Skywalker. All of it.

If Anakin could end him here, now, it would all mean something.

He charged, raw and untamed, reckless in his fury, and Dooku struck. The red saber carved through the air with brutal elegance, slicing clean through Anakin’s arm. Time stopped.

His scream tore through the cavernous arena, a sound so primal it didn’t sound human. You were already running.

By the time he collapsed, you were on your knees beside him, arms outstretched to catch what his strength could no longer carry. His weight sagged into your embrace, his head falling against your chest, and you cradled him as though the Force itself had shattered inside you.

“Ani,” you choked, cupping his face, brushing sweat-dampened curls away. His eyes were wild with pain, his breath ragged. Blood soaked his robes, and his trembling body spasmed as the agony surged through him.

“It’s okay, Ani. I’ve got you,” you whispered, voice cracking, pressing your lips to his temple, as if you could anchor him to this world. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”

He groaned, unintelligible, but your arms never let go. Your touch was the only thing grounding him as his soul screamed in rage and anguish. Because it wasn’t just his hand, it was everything. The pain of failure, the helplessness of loss, the brutal truth that no amount of power had saved the one person who meant the most to him.

Around you, the battle continued to roar. You barely noticed Master Yoda’s arrival, nor the way he ignited his saber and faced Dooku. Your entire universe was wrapped around the boy in your arms, and his pain became your own.

Clones moved in quickly, guiding him to a stretcher. You refused to let go, even as Jedi frowned at you with questioning glances, didn't understanding why Padmé’s sister was overly concerned for the Padawan, you clung to him, your fingers entwined with his remaining hand, your voice a steady whisper of comfort in his ear.

Onboard the cruiser, in the medbay, you knelt at his bedside as droids worked to stabilize him. His face was pale, drawn tight with exhaustion and loss. You clutched his good hand to your heart.

"Please," you whispered into the stillness, your voice cracking with a desperation that eclipsed your pride, you begged for anything higher to save him, hurried and whiny prayers escaping your lips without stopping. "Please don’t take him from me."

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the war. Not the Jedi. Not even the stars scattered beyond the cruiser’s viewport.

Because your heart belonged to the boy with pain in his soul and fire in his eyes, and you would walk through hell to keep him safe.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper @seventeen-x@user-3113s-blog @glitterfittans @bitter-semi-sweet @lortheswiftie @wizzerreblogs @heyitsbeeeb @browneyedgirly93@f1wh0recom @tvdelrey @kiyotofish @kers505

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞

With each passing day, the feelings between you and Anakin seemed to bloom, quietly and inevitably. It began with small things, fleeting comments, shared glances, the way your laughter lingered after you'd gone. Like seeds scattered in fertile soil, these moments were subtle, almost unnoticeable at first. But every time you spoke, every time you whisked him away on one of your whimsical adventures,  where duty didn’t hang like a shadow over his shoulder, where he could breathe, laugh, live without restraint, those seeds were watered, nurtured, fed by freedom and connection.

Until suddenly, it was impossible not to notice the garden growing between you. Feelings had taken root. Blossoms unfolded, vibrant and uncontainable.

To Anakin, you were sunlight. A bright, golden warmth that cut through the clouds of his world. No matter how heavy his heart felt, crushed beneath the weight of the Jedi Order’s expectations, the relentless pressure of being the Chosen One, the swirl of others' hopes or the imagined weight of them, your presence had a way of making it all fade. You were a reason to feel human again. To be someone who deserved joy. Who deserved to be loved, especially by someone like you.

That was why he stood now on the deck of the lake house, arms folded on the stone railing, staring out across the still, glassy expanse of water. The lake shimmered with the last golden light of afternoon, wrapped in the lush emerald cradle of Naboo’s forests. The soft hush of breeze moved through trees and flowers, everything calm and perfect, the kind of beauty that demanded reverence.

It had been here, just hours earlier, where he’d let himself laugh freely, falling into the water with you, letting go of everything. He had felt light. Real. But now, with the words he needed caught in the back of his throat, nerves pressing against his chest like armor he couldn’t shed, Anakin was once again tangled in doubt. He rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, tripping through his thoughts, feeling ridiculous, like a boy pretending to be a man. Which, in truth, was how he often felt when it came to you.

He was so lost in it, in his overthinking and hesitation, that he didn’t even hear the footsteps at first. Only when the soft sound of silk brushing over stone met his ears did he stir slightly.

"I always liked to stay here and watch the way the lake kisses the sun when it sets," Padmé’s voice came gently, melodic and wistful as she stepped beside him. She didn’t look at him right away, only out at the horizon, her eyes tracing the edge where water met light. "I like to think of them as two hopeless lovers — always reaching for one another, knowing they can never really stay, but still stealing what time they can, again and again."

Her words cut through the moment like the softest kind of blade. Anakin blinked, finally turning to her. And for a second, he forgot how to breathe.

“It’s, uhm... an interesting thought,” Anakin replied hesitantly, his fingers drifting to the back of his neck in a familiar gesture of nervousness. His blue eyes, always so expressive, couldn’t help but flick toward the woman standing beside him.

How many nights had he dreamed of her? How many times had he whispered to the stars, asking the universe to bring her back to him? To see his angel again, to have her look at him like this? And now here she was, golden in the sunset light. But the tangle of emotions inside him, he couldn’t even begin to unravel it. It was too much.

“Have you ever imagined yourself doing something else?” Padmé asked softly, her voice carrying that soothing cadence that always made people feel safe. Her brown eyes met his with warmth, inviting him to share a part of himself. “I mean… if you weren’t a Jedi, what would you be?”

The question caught Anakin off guard. He said nothing. He had never let himself think about the answer, maybe because the truth was too painful. If the Jedi hadn’t taken him in… if he hadn’t been declared the Chosen One… then what? He would probably still be a slave, slowly wasting away in Watto’s shop, dying from the wear of poverty or mistreatment. 

Maybe, if luck had shone on him, he could’ve bought his freedom. Maybe he and his mother would’ve managed to own a tiny piece of land, raise what livestock the desert allowed. Maybe, just maybe, he would have had something that was truly his.

Padmé mistook his silence for hesitation and filled it with her own dreams. “I think I’d choose a life in the countryside,” she said gently. “Waking up to the sound of birds, watching the sun rise and set… those little things that feel ordinary, but I never get to enjoy.”

She turned to face him fully, her brown eyes softening as they met his. A faint smile curved her lips. She rose on her toes, and before he could say a word, she whispered, “Falling in love… that would be nice,” and pressed her lips tenderly to his.

Anakin froze. His mind blanked. Padmé was kissing him. And he was awake. For ten years, he had built this moment in his head, sculpted it from longing and devotion, playing it out in silent fantasies, believing that if it ever came true, it would be the peak of his happiness. The woman he had idealized since boyhood was here, choosing him.

He should’ve felt fireworks, but he didn’t. There was a part of him that swelled with pride, that the unattainable angel would lower herself to kiss him, to return his feelings. And yet, it didn’t feel like triumph. The kiss was soft, sure. Her touch was real. But it didn’t bring warmth or light. It brought… nothing. No breathless rush. No spark of euphoria. No desperate need to fall deeper. Just pressure. A silence where he had expected music. It hit him like a wave: this wasn’t the love he was meant for.

Maybe, if you hadn’t come into his life, he would’ve clung to this moment, convinced himself that this was everything he ever wanted. But you had. You, with your wild laugh, your fearless spirit, the way you saw him not as a Jedi, not as a legend in the making, but as Anakin. Just Anakin.

You had carved your name into his heart so effortlessly that now, standing here with Padmé, he realized there was no more space for romantic illusions. He had outgrown that version of love, bright and distant and untouchable.

Padmé would always be important. His first love. A symbol of innocence and hope. A friend, perhaps. A memory. But what he felt now… it wasn’t love. Not the kind that grew roots. Not the kind that made him feel alive. It was time he stopped chasing ghosts and started following the sun.

However, the universe seemed to be playing a cruel trick on you. Because just as Anakin was having a revelation, finally understanding that he was deeply, unmistakably in love with you, you were walking toward the lake, heart light with anticipation… only to witness the boy you loved pressing his lips to your sister’s.

At first, your mind refused to process it. It didn’t make sense. Why would Anakin invite you to meet him if he was going to kiss Padmé? He wouldn’t be so heartless… would he? He wouldn’t ask you to talk, to come see him at the lake, just to rub his happiness in your face.

At least, that’s what you had believed, but your belief shattered in the silence between blinks. Your vision blurred, your throat tightening painfully. Tears welled and spilled freely down your cheeks as your heart cracked open in quiet, stunned betrayal. You didn’t wait for explanations. You couldn’t. You turned away, not just from the lake, but from Anakin, from Padmé, from the fragile hope that something real might bloom between you and the Jedi boy with the sky in his eyes.

Once again, you were swallowed by your sister’s shadow. No matter how far you tried to run, it always managed to find you.

Back by the lake, Padmé and Anakin stood in stillness, their kiss already fading into discomfort. They said nothing at first, letting the tension stretch between them like a pulled thread about to snap. Neither knew what to make of it.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Padmé said finally, her voice low and uncertain. She kept her eyes on her hands, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her dress.

“No,” Anakin agreed, just as softly. “I should’ve stopped you.”

There was no anger in his tone, only clarity. The realization settled over him like the cooling dusk air: he had spent so many years chasing an idea. But now, in the presence of the real thing, he understood that his heart had already moved on. It belonged to someone else.

Padmé studied him briefly, reading the truth in his face. Then, smoothing the folds of her dress, she said, “Well… I’ll be in my office. When you’re done, whatever it is you’re doing.”

She turned and walked away.

Anakin remained where he was, staring out at the shimmering surface of the lake, the wind moving gently through the trees, the sunset painting the world in gold and rose. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way he rarely felt. A moment meant to be shared. And you… you would have loved it, but you didn’t come.

He checked the chrono on his wrist again. Then again. He waited long past the time you had agreed on, unwilling to give up in case you were just running late. But when the sun disappeared completely and the first sliver of the moon peeked through the drifting clouds, he finally sighed, defeated.

You weren’t coming. He walked back to the palace in silence, returning to his assigned role as Jedi protector. But his mind wasn’t on his duty. He couldn’t understand it. You had seemed so connected the day before, so in tune, like your hearts beat in the same rhythm. Had he misread everything? Had he imagined the warmth in your eyes, the way your hand lingered just a little longer in his?

Maybe he was wrong.

Maybe you only saw him as a friend.

Maybe this was exactly why Jedi were told not to form attachments, because now, the absence of your smile was enough to plunge him into confusion, self-doubt, and longing. You were his light, and without you… his world dimmed into shadows.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

Later that night, Anakin jolted awake, breath ragged and skin slick with sweat. His forehead, hair, and shirt were damp, clinging to him like the weight of the dream that had just gripped him. Another vision. Another tormenting flicker of his mother. Shmi.

Though the Jedi had taken him away from her years ago, she never truly left him. Through the Force, she was always there, a comforting presence in quieter moments, a piercing ache in the painful ones. Tonight, her presence was agony. He hadn’t seen her clearly, but he had heard her. The screams. The sobs. Her voice calling his name, pleading for him to find her, to save her from something unspeakable. The pain in her voice made his stomach twist. He could feel it in his bones, the way you feel the pull of a planet you can’t quite reach.

His heart thundered in his chest, each beat harder than the last. He tried to slow his breathing, to will himself calm, but the Force pulsed with too much intensity. He couldn’t stay in bed, not after that. He knew the teachings, attachment clouded judgment. Obi-Wan had tried to guide him to let go. But how could he?

He felt too much. He always had.

Barefoot and tense, Anakin padded through the dim hallway toward the lake house’s sitting room, dragging his fingers through his damp curls. He moved silently, careful not to wake Padmé or her family. But as he passed the archway near the kitchen, a soft glow caught his eye.

The stove light was on.

You stood near it, wrapped in a long cardigan, tending to a green kettle gently hissing with steam. The sharp, earthy scent of herbs floated through the air, calming in contrast to the storm churning inside him. You didn’t speak or turn your head, but you must have sensed him there. With quiet care, you poured the tea into two mugs and added a spoonful of honey to each.

Without a word, you crossed the room and offered him one. Anakin was still frozen near the threshold, shoulders tense, his mind clearly somewhere far away, somewhere painful. You didn’t press him. You simply placed the mug into his hand and gently guided him to the couch, settling beside him in silence.

The mug was warm in his hands, grounding. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed that. Two steaming cups. One quiet night. And the kind of comfort that didn’t need words to be felt.

“Did you lose sleep?” he asked quietly.

You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes stayed fixed on the wall across from you, tracing the edges of the old decorations that had lined it since your childhood. You knew every detail by heart, the soft cracks in the paint, the faded color of the wooden trim, but suddenly, it was the only thing you could look at.

You shook your head silently.

The air between you grew still, stretched thin by the weight of unspoken thoughts. Anakin could feel it, you wanted to say something, but the words clung stubbornly to your throat. He understood too well. He was sitting with his own silence, his own turmoil barely caged beneath the surface. He wanted to speak, to pour out everything, to tell you how much your presence soothed him, but he didn’t want to burden you. He couldn’t bear the idea of you stepping away from him too.

“What happened?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. Your smaller hand reached for his, resting gently over his trembling knuckles. Your thumb brushed slow, steady circles over his skin.

He opened his mouth, instinctively ready to say nothing, to deny everything, but you stopped him with a single look. Gentle. Patient. Certain. “What’s in your heart?” you murmured.

And just like that, the dam cracked. His carefully maintained facade, the Jedi calm he tried so hard to wear, it all crumbled. He couldn’t hold it anymore. The fear, the confusion, the guilt, they poured out in fragmented sentences.

He told you about his dreams. The ones that kept clawing at him night after night, visions of his mother calling for help, her voice raw and pleading. He described how he could see her crumpling into his arms, fragile and slipping away, yet somehow still hoping he would find her. Still trusting in him, even in her final moments.

“Where is she?” you asked quietly.

Anakin blinked at you, caught off guard. That wasn’t the question he expected. He thought you’d reassure him, or worse, tell him it was just a dream. But you didn’t.

“Can you tell from the dream?” you pressed gently. “Where is she?”

“…Tatooine,” he murmured at last. His voice sounded far away. His eyes were heavier than usual, carrying a sadness as deep as the desert sands that raised him.

You nodded once, firmly. “So, what are you waiting for?”

Anakin looked at you, stunned. You took the mug from his hands with calm precision and stood, your tone steady but kind.

“Go prepare the ship,” you said. “I’ll talk to Padmé. If she says she wants to go to Tatooine…” You offered him a soft smile, the kind that made something inside him ache in the best way. “Well, your duty is to follow her, isn’t it?”

For a second, he just stared at you, wondering how you could see him so clearly. And then, without another word, he stood. Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lost, he felt seen. And that changed everything.

When you met again, Anakin already had everything prepared, the hyperspace coordinates programmed, the ship ready for takeoff. All he needed was the signal. Padmé stepped inside the cockpit with you, a solemn look in her eyes as she gave a small nod. That was all the permission he needed.

Time blurred after that.

In what felt like the blink of an eye, the ship emerged from hyperspace and touched down on the coarse, sunbaked surface of Tatooine. The desert wind howled as you made your way to the Lars homestead, following the thin thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, Anakin's mother was still waiting for him.

But reality was cruel.

Shmi Skywalker was no longer with Watto. She’d been sold, married, then taken. Lars and his son Owen tried to rescue her, but failed. Cliegg paid the price with the loss of his mobility, now confined to a wheelchair. The hopelessness in their voices was heartbreaking.

Anakin barely spoke. The moment he confirmed what had happened, he left. No hesitation. He made sure you and Padmé were safe, then vanished into the desert alone, swallowed by the sands that raised him.

While your sister walked with Beru, listening to the soft-spoken girl talk about the farm, about Shmi, and the helplessness that hung over the family, you stayed behind, waiting, worrying.

When Anakin finally returned, night had already fallen. The twin suns of Tatooine were gone, leaving behind a dusky, starless sky. He stepped off the speeder, a worn cloth bundle cradled in his arms. Your breath caught.

You didn’t need anyone to tell you what it was.

Owen and Cliegg rushed to meet him, their faces crumpling with shared grief. The family moved quickly to prepare a modest burial site in the backyard, an act of love and finality for the woman who had bound them all in different ways.

You stood beside Anakin as he laid his mother to rest.

He didn’t speak, but the anguish in his eyes said everything. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense as stone. You could feel the storm inside him: grief turning to guilt, guilt festering into rage. He blamed himself for not coming sooner. He blamed the Jedi for not trusting his instincts. He blamed the Sand People. He blamed Watto. He blamed the Force itself.

And even in her last breath, Shmi had told him she loved him. That she was proud.

That broke him more than anything else.

How could she be proud? He couldn’t save her. If he couldn’t protect his own mother, what kind of Jedi was he supposed to be?

The burial ended with no words, just silence and dust. And then, he vanished again.

While everyone else lingered, mourning in quiet pockets of the yard, you noticed Anakin was gone. Slipping away unnoticed, like he wanted to be alone with the weight he carried. You followed him.

Inside the Lars home, tucked into a small back room carved into the sand-colored walls, you found him. He stood at a table, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were pale. His head was bowed, shoulders stiff with grief and fury.

The air around him buzzed with tension. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of grief pressing in from every direction. You didn’t speak, not yet. You just stood in the doorway, your presence steady, waiting for him to let you in.

You approached him slowly, each step soft and careful. You didn’t want to startle him. You didn’t want to be shut out. But more than anything, you wanted to respect his silence, to honor whatever storm was building behind those clenched fists and shadowed eyes.

You stopped beside him, close but not touching. Your body still, open. Waiting. Gently, you tilted your head, trying to meet his gaze.

He didn’t look away. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with grief, and beneath the redness, a fire raged, flickering with guilt, with fury, with something darker that didn’t yet have a name.

“Anakin,” you murmured, his name slipping from your lips like a balm, like a prayer. Your smile was soft, comforting, though your heart ached just looking at him.

His voice came next, hoarse, hollow. “I killed them all.”

Your brow knit in confusion.

“Not just the men…” he choked, his throat raw from holding it in for too long. “But the women. And the children too.”

The words hit like cold wind. The devastation in his tone was palpable, he spoke not with pride, not with vengeance, but with pain. The weight of what he had done was crushing him.

“Oh, Anakin…” you whispered, arms opening instinctively, offering him a place to fall apart.

And he did. He sank to his knees before you, burying his face in your stomach as though trying to hide from the world, and from himself. His arms wrapped around your waist, clinging tightly, desperately, as thick, hot tears rolled down his cheeks.

He tried to speak again, but no words came. Just a broken sob. You held him, fingers slipping into his sandy blond hair, brushing gently as you murmured soft breaths into the air. You said nothing more, just existed with him at that moment. Steady. Solid. Safe.

Your touch grounded him. Your presence brought him back from the edge. It anchored him to the now, to something real. To someone who saw him not as a Jedi, or a weapon, or a failure, but as a man in pain.

In that moment, as his arms clung tighter around your waist and his tears soaked your clothes, Anakin made a promise. He would never let someone he loved die again. He didn’t know how, only that he would fight, tooth and bone, fate and galaxy, to keep you alive and beside him. Until his very last breath.

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper @seventeen-x @user-3113s-blog @glitterfittans @bitter-semi-sweet @lortheswiftie @wizzerreblogs @heyitsbeeeb @browneyedgirly93 @f1wh0recom

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬  𝐈𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐦𝐞  𝐈 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐦𝐞  𝐇𝐨𝐰 𝐛𝐚𝐝, 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞?

The sun crept over the Naboo horizon, golden light spilling across the field in slow, deliberate waves. It touched Anakin’s face first — a gentle warmth that coaxed his lashes into a twitch, his brow furrowing as he stirred. A tickling sensation brushed the bridge of his nose, soft as a whisper. He mumbled incoherently and turned his face away.

But then it came again, a teasing flutter, and this time, a laugh followed. His eyes blinked open, still hazy from sleep, only to find you kneeling beside him, holding a delicate flower to his cheek with an expression far too innocent to be trusted.

You grinned when you met his gaze. "Good morning," you murmured sweetly, the flower dancing between your fingers. The chaos in your curls and the faint imprint of sleep still on your features made you look all the more ethereal.

Anakin smiled back, drowsy and charmed. “Good morning,” he replied, voice rough with sleep. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the dull ache from a night spent lying on uneven ground. It wasn’t exactly the best sleep of his life—but stars, it was worth it. Having you curled against him, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep on his chest, made everything else feel like it didn’t matter.

Until it did. His eyes widened as the realization returned like a jolt to his spine.

“Force, we need to get back,” he muttered, suddenly rushing to his feet. “Padmé. I’m supposed to be guarding her. I’m supposed to be protecting her, not” He stopped himself, guilt threading into his voice, heat rising in his cheeks. He had let his feelings cloud his judgment, again.

“It’s okay,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “I know a shortcut.”

You took the hand he offered, your smaller fingers enveloped easily in his. His thumb instinctively traced along your knuckles, a quiet gesture of affection that lingered even as you both dashed toward the speeder.

Anakin had barely settled onto the seat when your foot hit the accelerator, the vehicle surging forward with a suddenness that made his heart stutter. You weaved through the trees with an ease that was as daring as it was reckless. He couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or terrified.

He leaned closer than necessary, under the guise of balancing, but in reality, it was just to feel the way your shoulder pressed into his chest with each sharp turn. The adrenaline sang through him, but it was nothing compared to the way your presence tugged at something buried deep inside.

By the time you skidded to a stop outside the lake house, both of you were breathless, trying to straighten your clothes, picking flowers and grass from your hair. It was a lost cause, you still looked like you’d rolled through a meadow together. Which… wasn’t far from the truth.

Padmé was already waiting, her expression unreadable, though Captain Typho’s disapproval was written clearly across his face as he stood beside her, arms crossed, jaw set tight. Anakin’s stomach dropped. He knew that look. The captain didn’t take lightly to negligence, especially when it came to the safety of the senator. And he was right to be upset. Anakin had let his heart lead him astray.

He stood taller, swallowing hard. The shame hit fast, not because of what happened, but because of how easy it had been to forget everything else when he was with you. Jedi discipline felt like an old, distant promise compared to how he felt in your orbit.

“What was your mission, Skywalker?” Captain Typho’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade, his arms crossed and jaw locked tight. His tone left no room for misunderstanding.

Anakin’s shoulders slumped, the heat of embarrassment prickling up the back of his neck. “To guard Senator Amidala’s room,” he muttered, jaw tight.

“And why weren’t you doing that?” Typho snapped, voice rising. “What could possibly be more important than the duties assigned to you? Do you think you’re above the mission? Should I call the Jedi Council and ask for someone more committed?”

Anakin opened his mouth, shame and panic warring in his chest but before he could speak, you stepped in. You moved to stand in front of him, your body slipping between the captain’s sharp words and the padawan’s stiff frame.

“It was my fault,” you said, raising your chin despite the quiver in your voice. “I, I snuck out last night. I just needed to get away for a while and ended up in more trouble than I meant to. Anakin wasn’t shirking his duty. He was helping me.”

You turned toward Padmé, eyes pleading. “I lost control of the speeder bike. I could’ve crashed, if he hadn’t been there…” you trailed off, breath catching. “If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I’d have made it back. Please don’t blame him, he only did what anyone else would’ve done. I’ll take all the blame.”

Padmé’s gaze flickered between the two of you, and there was a long, unreadable pause. Her eyes softened, just slightly, before she turned toward Typho.

“That’s enough, Captain. There’s no need to involve the Jedi,” she said calmly. “I think we’ve all learned something valuable today.”

Typho didn’t look convinced, but he bowed his head and stepped back. Padmé waited until he’d walked away before turning to you with a tired sigh.

“Why am I not surprised that you were involved in the trouble?” she muttered, though her tone lacked real bite. She took your arm and gently guided you inside.

Once in her room, she sat you down at the vanity without another word. You stayed quiet, watching your sister through the mirror as she began carefully removing the crushed flowers and leaves tangled in your hair.

“Why?” she finally asked, fingers working gently through a knot. “Why do you keep doing this. taking risks, putting yourself in danger?”

You blinked, confused. “I don’t understand…”

Padmé met your eyes in the mirror. “You have the luxury of choice. Of freedom. You don’t have to bear the weight of the Senate or the Republic. You get to choose your path. So why are you always looking for ways to make it harder on yourself?”

The words stung. A tightness formed in your throat as your chest began to ache. You looked down, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.

How could you possibly explain to her, the poised, unshakable senator who bore the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, what it felt like to live in her shadow? To want to matter in a world where she already filled every room with grace and purpose?

Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I was reckless and irresponsible.  I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”

Padmé paused her hands and stepped around to face you.

Your voice cracked, and the tears spilled anyway. “I just... I just—” You didn’t say it aloud, but it was there, in the air between you. The feeling of being invisible in her shadow. Of never being the one anyone looked to, listened to, or needed.

But before you could finish, Padmé wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her embrace. The warmth of her hug unraveled the guilt in your chest. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to. She just held you, the way only an older sister could.

You stayed like that for a while, just the two of you, breathing in time.

Eventually, your voice broke the silence, needing to improve that strange atmosphere, needing to fix the situation that you yourself created. “Why don’t we spend the day in the garden? Near the lake.” you murmured against her shoulder. It’s beautiful out today. “You could use a break and I want to spend time with my sister.”

Padmé hesitated for a second, then smiled faintly, brushing your hair once more before rising. “Alright. I’ll ask the staff to prepare everything.”

Padmé went to inform the staff to prepare everything, and you took a deep breath, standing to head to your room and change. The tears were still there, but your heart felt just a little lighter.

Outside, you knew Anakin was probably still standing where you’d left him. And despite everything… a part of you hoped he’d still be looking for you when you came back.

When Padmé returned to the garden, her gaze immediately found you standing beside Anakin, two towels in your arms, animatedly saying something that she couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made Anakin laugh, a real, unguarded laugh. His blue eyes sparkled with that boyish glint, and he shook his head as if you’d just said something outrageous.

“Senator Amidala,” Anakin said, attempting to compose himself the moment he noticed her. “I want to apologize for my”

Padmé raised a hand, gently cutting him off. “Water under the bridge, Ani,” she said with a small smile. “Why don’t you help carry the picnic basket?”

She slipped her arm through yours, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “My sister suggested we go swimming. I hope you brought wetsuits.” Anakin’s ears turned red, and he quickly averted his gaze, falling in step behind the two of you.

Out in the garden, the afternoon sun cast warm glows over the lake’s edge. You and Padmé started a game of “don’t let the ball hit the ground,” laughing as the breeze threatened to steal the ball mid-air. Soon, you dragged Anakin and one of the palace guards into the chaos, splitting into teams. You threw down the towels to mark the makeshift line in the grass—Padmé and Anakin on one side, you and the guard on the other.

It didn't take long for the friendly game to turn into a whirlwind of competitiveness. You and Anakin became the fiercest pair, diving, spinning, and tumbling dramatically just to keep the ball from falling. His focus blurred—not because of the match, but because of your laughter, your joy, the way the sunlight caught your smile like a secret meant only for him. You teased him ruthlessly, lobbing tricky throws that forced him to dive with Jedi precision.

Not to be outdone, Anakin narrowed his eyes and sent the ball arcing high above your head. He grinned, thinking he’d finally won the round, but he underestimated you. You bolted backward, determined to catch it, but your foot slid over the damp edge of the grass, and with a splash, you disappeared into the lake.

“Y/N!” Anakin shouted, his heart stopping.

Without a second thought, he sprinted into the water, plunging into the depths to find you. Panic choked his thoughts as he swam, his heart hammering wildly. He cursed himself for being careless, for not watching you more closely, for letting things go too far.

Then, through the water’s shimmer, he saw you.

He scooped you into his arms, surfacing with a gasp and rushing back to the shore, both of you soaked and breathless. He laid you gently on the shore, dripping and panicked, placing his ear to your chest, just in time for you to sputter, cough, and burst into laughter. “You little” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face in relief. “You were pretending?!”

You grinned guiltily. “It was supposed to be funny.”

“You scared me out of my mind,” he muttered, heart still racing. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes sincere. “I didn’t mean to”

But Anakin didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up without a word and ran right back into the lake. You shrieked as he jumped in with you, both of you plunging under the surface.

Padmé, from a distance, looked up from her holobook and shook her head with a fond smile. Watching her sister and Anakin splash around like unruly teenagers, a strange tightness crept into her chest. You two were a good match, she thought, but the realization sat oddly in her stomach, a feeling she chose not to examine.

Back in the water, Anakin hoisted you onto his shoulders, your hands instinctively clutching at his hair. “No, Anakin, put me down!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked.

“What? You giving up already?” he teased. “I thought you were the fun one!”

With a wicked grin, he flipped you off his shoulders, sending a wave of water crashing around you. You surfaced, gasping and laughing.

“You’ll be back,” you warned, narrowing your eyes in mock vengeance.

Anakin only smirked wider, until something grabbed his ankle under the surface. He yelped as he lost balance and toppled into the shallows. He resurfaced with a laugh, coughing and splashing wildly. The lake echoed with your laughter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anakin Skywalker felt light.

Not like a Jedi. Not like a soldier.

Just like a boy, falling fast for a girl who made him forget all the rules.

You spent long, sun-drenched moments with Anakin in the lake—swimming, splashing, laughing until your cheeks hurt. It was pure, unfiltered joy, a kind of freedom neither of you was used to. When the water finally started to cool and the scent of food wafted from the garden, you both made your way back to the grass, clothes dripping and clinging to your bodies, leaving wet footprints and little puddles in your wake.

As you approached the picnic setup where Padmé sat, surrounded by an inviting spread of fruit, bread, and fresh Naboo delicacies, you reached for the zipper of your blue frilly dress. With a soft tug, you peeled it away, revealing the white silk slip beneath—lightweight and now partially translucent from the water, it clung delicately to your form.

Anakin swallowed hard. His eyes darted to your exposed shoulders, the elegant curve of your neck, the delicate dip of your collarbone. Droplets of water trailed over your skin, sliding down your chest and disappearing into the folds of fabric he could not see past—but his imagination filled in the rest with a speed and clarity that made his cheeks burn.

He gave his head a sharp shake, sending water flying from his hair, and forced his gaze away, cursing himself for losing control.

You elbowed him playfully, catching his flushed expression. “Don’t do that,” you said, pouting a little as you pulled a stool over and plopped down across from Padmé. You reached for the breadbasket, slicing a piece and handing it wordlessly to Anakin. He blinked, a little caught off guard by the gesture, but took it with a sheepish smile before sitting beside you.

Padmé, watching the quiet exchange, shook her head with a breathy laugh. “Children,” she teased, half to herself.

“I’m eighteen,” you and Anakin answered in unison, then turned to look at each other and grinned.

After lunch, Padmé left, and Anakin followed like a shadow, resuming his Jedi duties. Yet no matter how many diplomatic briefings or serene walks through royal gardens he endured, his mind stayed tangled in you. Even when Padmé stumbled and fell laughing into a bed of wildflowers, just like the vision he’d dreamed of for years, he couldn’t stop the image of how those blooms would’ve looked tangled in your curls instead.

When he finally escorted Padmé back to her room, standing dutifully outside, she turned to him with a knowing look. “Go,” she said, gentle but firm. “Just promise me you’ll be back before dawn.”

He hesitated, offering a weak protest about Jedi responsibilities, but Padmé only raised a brow. It was enough. He understood her permission was given and her understanding went deeper than words.

This time, Anakin was the one waiting at the window.

His breath caught the moment he saw you step into the moonlight. You were wearing a blue floral dress that clung to your frame in all the right ways, the fabric catching the silver glow of the night and casting soft highlights along your skin. The delicate tone of the dress deepened the warmth of your complexion, every detail from the curve of your shoulder to the line of your waist etched into his memory in a single, reverent glance.

Your hair was down tonight, the breeze gently lifting the loose strands while a braid ran like a crown across the top of your head, tiny white flowers woven between the curls like stars caught in the galaxy of you. To Anakin, you didn’t look real. You looked like something dreamt up in one of the few peaceful corners of his restless mind.

"Waiting for me, Skywalker?" you teased, your voice warm, your smile tugging mischievously at your lips.

Anakin stood there, speechless, his lips parted as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t remember how to speak. You were breathtaking. And in that moment, nothing in his vocabulary, not even the hundreds of words he'd once used to describe a planet or a battlefield, felt worthy enough to describe you.

"You look... pretty today," he said finally, then stumbled over himself, his hand flying to scratch the back of his neck. "Not that you’re not pretty on other days, I mean, you’re beautiful. Always.”

You smiled gently, charmed by his awkward honesty. “You’re a cutie too,” you said with a wink, stepping closer. “Now how about we go for a walk?”

And just like that, the night unfolded before you.

Together, you explored the quiet edges of the city, letting the silence between you settle not with awkwardness but with ease. With every step, the weight of your lives , his Jedi code, your family name, fell away, leaving behind two people who just wanted to feel free for a little while. No rules. No expectations. Just heartbeats and curiosity and the pull of something new.

When you arrived at your destination, Anakin helped you off the speeder bike, his hand warm and sure as he guided you to the ground. Music drifted on the air, soft, rhythmic, unfamiliar. A bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing ahead, casting golden shadows over the gathering of people. Gungans played instruments crafted from wood and string, filling the night with a melody that felt both ancient and celebratory. Flowers of every color hung in garlands, draped from trees and woven into the crowd’s hair and clothes.

It felt like a hidden sanctuary. A little piece of joy carved out of the galaxy’s chaos.

“Dance with me?” you asked, reaching out your hand.

Anakin hesitated. “I don’t know how.”

“Then let’s learn together,” you whispered, pulling him into the crowd.

As a Jedi, Anakin was never taught how to dance. There were no lessons in joy, no teachings in how to laugh without purpose, or to move simply for the pleasure of movement. Leisure had never been encouraged in the Temple, only discipline, control, and obedience. Hobbies were considered distractions. Joy was something to be observed, not indulged in. So now, with your hands in his and music swirling around him like stardust, he was utterly, beautifully lost.

You led the dance with a freedom he didn’t know how to replicate. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, feet moving easily over the soft ground, a radiant smile tugging at your lips. When you tried to spin under his arm, Anakin misunderstood the cue and spun with you, causing you both to lose balance, stumbling into each other in a tangled mess of laughter. You caught yourselves, barely, and the sound of your giggle lit something in his chest that felt far too close to longing.

Still, you kept dancing, your movements light and confident, guiding him with every step. And somehow, through the chaos and the clumsy rhythm, it became less about getting it right and more about how it felt. How it felt to be alive, to be seen, to be here.

Then your eyes met. Blue locked onto yours, and for a breathless second, the world faded into nothing but the shared pulse of your hearts. There was a spark, no, more than a spark. It was a quiet explosion of recognition, of something deep and stirring that neither of you had asked for, but now couldn’t deny.

Anakin had only known you for two days, and yet, it didn’t feel new. It felt ancient, like something buried in his bones was waking up. As your foreheads gently touched, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to let himself pretend.

He imagined a galaxy where he wasn’t a Jedi. Where there were no missions or codes or rules to obey. Where there was only this: you, and the night air, and the music. Where his arms could be your home and not a transgression.

He didn’t know what to call what he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel it at all. For years, his heart had belonged to Padmé or so he thought. But every glance, every smile, every heartbeat spent near you was unraveling that certainty. You weren’t replacing what he had felt. You were redefining it.

And that terrified him.

Because what if this wasn’t fleeting? What if you were becoming the gravity that held his entire world together? And what if, in choosing you… he was choosing himself?

TAGLIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @speaknow-sw @freudsweetlamb @devilslittlehelper @seventeen-x @user-3113s-blog @glitterfittans

I woke to the bed shaking. It was still dark outside, and the room was practically silent. Except for Anakin, his breath coming in short, shallow bursts.

I rolled over to face him. He was shirtless, the blanket pushed down below his abs, and he was violently shivering, his body convulsing. I moved closer to him, placing a hand on his neck. He was ice cold.

"Ani," I mumbled.

He softly groaned, still shaking profusely. I pulled myself on top of him, nestling into his neck as I covered us up with the blanket. His arms wrapped around me as he groaned again, his teeth chattering.

"Honey, wake up," I said, kissing his neck.

"Y/N?" he whispered, voice wavering as he shivered. "W-Why's it so—so cold?"

"It's just you, Ani. You're on Coruscant." He tightened his grip, hugging me to his chest. "You're okay, you'll warm up soon."

I covered as much of his body as I could, mindlessly running my fingers through his hair. His shaking began to slow, until it was almost non-existent, his breathing now calm and quiet. I placed another kiss on his shoulder before drifting off with him.

In the quiet of your quarters you stood at the window, clutching a warm cup of spiced tea, the color of dusk, untouched. The city below glittered like stars. Ships moved like fireflies through Coruscant’s veins. Rain tapped gently at the crystal glass, a slow, rhythmic sound that filled the space between your thoughts. The sky above shimmered with lightning every few moments. You remembered loving storms as a child, running through gardens on your homeworld of Monunia, laughter caught in the wind. If it were any other night, maybe those memories would soothe the ache in your chest. But tonight was different.

You heard the door slide open behind you, then close with a soft hiss. No announcement, no words. Anakin never made a dramatic entrance for you. Not like he did in front of the Senate, or the war room, or on the battlefield. Only others. For you, he always slipped in, sometimes unnoticed. You knew it was only a matter of time before his arms would slip around your waist. You felt his fingers first, brushing along the fabric of your pastel yellow silk robe before wrapping around you, and pulling you close. His touch was warm, grounding. Possessive.

“You didn’t wait for me,” He murmured near your ear, his voice low and velvet-soft. His lips brushed the curve of your neck, his breath warm, and his hands splayed across your stomach, anchoring you to him like the very galaxy might try and pull you away.

Ah. The meeting with the Council.

He had asked you to stay, to wait, to be patient. But you had grown restless and you could only pace around the hallway for so long before getting odd looks. So, you left for your room. At least there you could change out of your usual robes and into your silk pajamas. As the storm began to stir in the swirly clouds, you made yourself some tea. You didn't bother to alert Anakin to leaving, knowing that this was the first place he'd look; second to the Temple’s extensive library.

You didn’t explain yourself, only leaned further into his hold. He already knew anyway. His grip tightened, leaning back in slowly, his lips only barely brushing your neck - a ghost of a touch that lingered just long enough for a shaky sigh to leave your parted lips.

Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight. War hero. The Chosen One. To the galaxy, he was a symbol. A soldier. A prophecy. But with you, he was something else entirely. Something beautiful.

Loving you had never been simple for him. Of course it was with the Code and the Order breathing down his neck. But it wasn’t gentle, it was all-consuming. It was the way his arms pulled you back against him when you'd leave the bed far too early for his liking. It was in the flicker of jealousy in his eyes when your attention wandered for far too long, whether that be to a book or a Senator. It was in the gifts, the rooms filled with flowers, trinkets from his far-away missions, and even, sometimes, new gowns he insisted looked “devastatingly stunning” on you.

And it was in the fear. Not yours. His.

Because for all his power, all his command of the Force, Anakin feared only one thing. Losing you.

Outside, the storm rolled closer, lightning casting shadows across the room. Inside, he buried his face into your shoulder, breathing the perfect scent of you in, filling and coating his lungs like silk. You placed your hand over one of his. His fingers closed around yours instantly. After a breath, he lifted his head, pressing his lips to your temple, his voice barely a whisper. “I’d burn it all for you.” A confession meant only for you. Heavy. Honest. And terrifying in its sincerity.

You closed your eyes. Because you knew he meant it. In the way only Anakin Skywalker could.

There was danger everywhere. The war raged on across systems. Whispers of the Sith slithered through the halls of the Senate. The Jedi Council was fracturing beneath its silence and rules. And Anakin, he was the storm they couldn’t see coming. But when he held you like this, you knew. He wouldn’t let anything touch you. Not politics. Not war. Nothing. If he could, he would fight destiny itself to keep you safe and by his side forevermore.

You could only hope that when everything came crashing down, he’d take your hand and run, because losing him, truly losing him - to the Sith, to the Order, or to death… It would destroy you.

He spoke again, barely audible above the distant thunder. “You know you’re mine… Don’t you?”

And you did. It wasn’t ‘I love you’. Not in the way most people would say it. But from Anakin, it was more than enough. It wasn’t that he didn’t say it - he did, almost constantly, in whispered confessions and breathless murmurs - but this… This was different. However, you didn’t always need the words. You sometimes needed the fire. And he burned for you. You believed him. In his love. In its danger. In its beauty. You felt it in the strength of his hold, the soft tremor in his breath when you pulled away for too long, in the fierce devotion written across his every glance.

He may have belonged to the Republic. To the Jedi. To prophecy. But you… You were his gravity. His tether. His weakness. His everything. And he would lie, fight, betray, and burn…

You turned in his arms, silently setting your teacup down on the small circular table close to you. Your hands rose to rest gently on his chest, fingers tracing the edges of the layered fabrics of his Jedi Knight robes, brushing over them as if memorizing its every thread. Your touch lingered, fingertips drifting, feeling the slight warmth beneath the wool and cotton.

Your gaze met his - storm blue and star-bright, filled with longing and passion and something terrifyingly tender.

You searched his face, one of your hands rose to his cheek, brushing the edge of a scar, your fingers curling gently into his curls. He leaned into your touch, lashes fluttering shut, breath uneven, shaky as he inhaled and exhaled. For a long moment, nothing else existed. The world around you both had narrowed to the soft brush of skin and the steady thrum of two hearts beating out of sync.

Then, slowly, you closed the distance. Your lips met in a soft, searing kiss - tentative at first, then deepening as he tangled a gloved hand in your hair, pulling you closer with deliberate urgency. His other hand tightened on your waist, fingers digging into the soft folds of your silk robe, anchoring you as he took full control of the kiss, making you melt into his embrace. 

And in that moment, with thunder echoing through the skyline and the Force heavy, you both knew - together, you would fight, fall, and burn for each other.

At all costs.

~~~

"Because it’s funny watching you pretend this isn’t obvious."

"I’m a Jedi, she's a senator. That’s it."

"Right. So if I round this corner and she’s laughing with another senator—say, that guy from Chandrila—you’re not gonna lose your mind?"

They turned the corner. You were standing in front of your office, chatting with Senator Mon Mothma and a tall, clean-cut senator with a blinding smile. He leaned a little too close when he laughed at something you said.

Anakin’s jaw tightened. "Who the hell is that?"

Ahsoka looked at him with a raised brow. "I thought it was just intel?"

He didn’t answer. Just walked faster.

You spotted him before he reached you, and your eyes lit up in a way you really shouldn’t if you were just discussing legislation. The tall senator noticed, turned slightly to follow your gaze, and his smile faltered when he saw Anakin approaching.

"General Skywalker," the man greeted.

Anakin barely glanced at him. "Senator."

You stepped in, trying to diffuse. "You're early."

"You look busy." He didn’t look at you, he just continued staring at the other senator.

Mon Mothma cleared her throat. "We should head to the chamber. Session starts in ten."

The tall senator nodded and gave you a polite smile. "Always good to see you, Y/N."

You smiled back. "You too."

Anakin watched him walk away like he was deciding if it would be considered a war crime to Force-choke a politician in public.

"Anakin." He looked at you finally. "You’re glaring," you said under your breath, stepping slightly in front of him. "And clenching your jaw."

"Didn’t notice."

"That was Senator Cassian Vallas. He helped push through relief funds for Naboo. He’s harmless."

"He was practically breathing your air."

"He talks close."

"He talks like he wants to get punched."

You folded your arms. "You’re being ridiculous."

"He called you by your first name."

You raised a brow. "You call me worse when we’re alone."

Ahsoka, lingering way too close, snorted.

Anakin turned his head sharply. "Don’t you have somewhere to be?"

"Not really. This is better than the war." She grinned. "But I’ll let you two lovebirds talk."

"Ahsoka—"

She was already walking off.

You turned to Anakin, voice lower. "You’re jealous."

"No, I’m—"

"You are. You’re jealous. Because I had a polite conversation with a senator."

"He looked at you like he wanted more than a polite conversation."

You stepped closer, lips barely moving. "And if I remind you you’re the only one who gets more, does that help?"

He blinked. Briefly. Then, "no."

You tried not to smile. "You’re impossible."

"Is he coming to dinner with you tonight?"

"Stop it."

"I’ll sit next to you just to make a point."

"Anakin."

"What?"

"You’re already my husband."

He didn’t respond right away. Just stared at you with a look that made it clear he’d forgotten you were in public. Then, under his breath, "wish I could kiss you right now."

You leaned in slightly, voice soft. "Wish you would calm down."

He smirked. "Not gonna happen."

You rolled your eyes and opened the office door. "Come on. You can brief me while I change for session." He followed, no hesitation. "You're staying outside the dressing room this time," you warned, pointing a finger at him.

He smirked. "No promises."

You shot Anakin a look over your shoulder as you moved behind the changing screen. "Seriously, stay there."

He huffed, sitting on the couch across the room. "You act like I've never seen you change."

"Yeah, but last time, you almost got caught."

"I was quiet."

"You were the opposite of quiet."

He smiled to himself, leaning back casually. "Can we focus on why Senator Vallas felt comfortable enough to practically stand in your robes?"

You groaned softly behind the screen, fabric rustling. "He wasn't."

"He definitely was."

"You're imagining things."

"Am I?"

You peeked out from behind the screen, holding your gown in place with one hand. "Do you remember who you're married to?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "A very attractive senator, apparently."

"Apparently?"

Anakin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, gaze intense. "You're mine."

"You realize saying things like that doesn't help your jealousy issues, right?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Anakin."

"I'm protective."

"That's a very Jedi-like way to phrase it."

He shrugged. "Call it what you want."

You stepped out from behind the screen, adjusting the drape of your elegant gown. His eyes swept appreciatively over you.

"I should probably be offended that this is what makes you finally stop scowling," you teased.

He stood, stepping closer. "I'm still scowling. Internally."

You reached up, straightening the edge of his robes. "At least try to pretend you're calm in public."

"I do."

"You don't."

His lips quirked into a faint smirk. "Fine. I'll try harder."

You laughed softly, gently touching his cheek. "Do you have any idea how distracting you are when you act like this?"

He placed his hand over yours, holding your palm against his skin. "Maybe that's the point."

You gave a playful shove to his chest, pulling away reluctantly. "Come on. I have a senate session, and you have Jedi business. Try not to intimidate any more senators today."

"No promises."

You opened your office door to find Ahsoka leaning casually against the wall, tapping her fingers impatiently. She grinned when she saw you both. "You two done whispering sweet nothings, or should I come back later?"

Anakin sighed. "We're done."

"Good, because Rex commed. Twice. Says you better get back before Obi-Wan notices you've disappeared."

You smiled sweetly at Anakin. "Go. Before you cause an intergalactic incident."

He shot you one last meaningful look. "We'll finish this later."

"Looking forward to it."

You watched Anakin stride away, shoulders tense but eyes softening whenever they flickered back to you. Ahsoka waited until he was out of earshot before leaning toward you conspiratorially.

"He really hates Senator Vallas, huh?"