#Hayden christensen

[pauls-mescal]

HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN as ANAKIN SKYWALKER Star Wars: Episode III - Revenge of the Sith (2005) Dir. George Lucas

[anisangeldust]

Santa, Baby ❆𝜗𝜚

Summary: After being stumped on a gift for your boyfriend, Jedi knight Anakin Skywalker, you settle on a safe favorite of his.

Pairing: dilf!Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader

Warnings: Implied age gap (Anakin is 35 and reader is 18), lap dance, smut, oral (m receiving), mating press, mentions of breeding, smutty descriptions !!

A/N: Happy holidays! All the love and magic for all of you! May you all have the bestest day ꨄ

Santa baby..

Slip a sable under the tree, for me

Been an awful good girl,

Santa baby..

What do you get for a man that has everything?

7 year olds are easy to shop for, Leia was head over heels for he giant wookie stuffed toy, and Luke wouldn’t shut up about the ‘training saber’ he unwrapped that morning, children were easy to please, but a man?

What did you get someone who was almost double your age? A watch? He didn’t need that, it was useless for how often he changed planets with different time zones. Cologne? He had that, new parts for tinkering? He had those too, a new glove for his prosthetic hand? That was too cheap.

When you decided to just ask what he wanted, despite wanting it to be a surprise and feeling a touch of shame that you didn’t know your boyfriend well enough, the conversation went as good as you’d expect:

“I don’t want anything babe” his buttery voice insisted, strong hands rubbing your back and his baby blues full of warmth.

You sighed “all couples say they don’t want anything, I’m getting you a gift. Tell me what you want.” You insisted, kissing his cheek.

Anakin let out a deep, hearty chuckle. “I have you, I have the little ones, they love you like you’re their mother, I have everything I’ve ever wanted. I don’t need a gift.” He reiterated, his hand moving from your back to your rear, playfully squeezing.

That comment: “I have you, I have everything I’ve ever wanted” gave you an idea, you’d be his present. If he didn’t want anything new, perhaps something revamped would be the move?

It wasn’t difficult to get Luke and Leia asleep, they had crashed hard from the inane amount of sugar they ingested. After gently forehead kisses to each of them, and soft goodnights, you closeted their door and went to your bedroom you shared with Anakin.

“Merry Christmas Ani..” you kiss him gently and he holds you gently while kissing you back

“Merry Christmas baby girl” he coos and rubs his hands up your sides, a lustful look drinking behind the cobalt clouds of his eyes.

You giggle gently, pulling away. “I have a gift for you..” you murmur and climb off his lap, gesturing to a Cody chair by your bed “sit..” you smile.

Anakins brows shoot up “oh? I thought I said no gifts?” He teases but complies, siting down and looking at you.

“It’s not completely a gift.. more a.. zhuzh..” you wink and disappear into the bathroom.

Only a few minutes later do you emerge, flipping on a speaker to the familiar tune “Santa, baby” and sexily strutting over to your sitting boyfriend, clad in red lingerie and a Santa hat, complete with red lipstick and red stockings.

Anakin lets out a low, wolf whistle “whewww baby. What is this?” He leans back and pats his lap. Once you sit down on his thigh he tries to hold your waist, only for you to swat his hand away and pin his wrists behind him. Though he could easily get out, he chose to play along and refrain from laying his hands on you.

“Shh.. let me give you a show..” you coo and arch your back, standing up and wiggling your chest in his face. Allowing the white trim to brush his nose before you step back and squat down, slowly lifting up with your hands on his knees, wiggling your hips again.

The familiar song faded out as you climbed on your knees infront of him. Nuzzling one of this thighs and kissing his pants “you can touch now..” you purr gently. He takes no time for hesitation, immediately yanking off the pure hat and tangling his hands in your hair.

“Mmmhh.. baby..” he groans and spreads his legs allowing you to pull off his pants, he watches the fabric slide off to reveal the hard bulge in his boxers “you’re so fucking beautiful..” he groans and pulls you forward to his crotch.

Your lips meet the hardness of his bulge and you kiss it, feeling it twitch and grow under your lips. Slipping your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and slipping them down, his hard cock springing free of its cloth confines. The tip leaking pearl and standing stiff. Trimmed pubes leading to heavy balls and upwards was his toned abdomen.

“Is this all for me?” You tease and suck lightly on his baby pink tip. He tried to pull you down and you resist, moving instead down his shaft to suckle on his aching sack, the motion making him growl and shake.

“Fuck yes.. all for you baby girl, always for you..” he grunts then tangles his hands in your hair, tugging on your scalp. “Gods.. fuck me.. always so good” he rolls his eyes back. The groans louder as you finally take him into your mouth, letting your slobber lube your hand so you can pump what you can’t take. Your tongue traces the bulging vein Yang runs under his cock head, swirling it and catching all his leaking pre before going back down.

“Mmpohh…” he tenses “fuck fuck fuck.. I’m.. ohhmm..” he takes control and face fucks you, hips lifting up to meet your face, hands tangled in your hair, he was enjoying this more than any blowjob he’d ever been given. There was a moment of chocked silence as Anakin came down your throat, beads of sweat running down to his eyebrows, eyes pinched close and brows furrowed.

As soon as he came down from that high, you made eye contact and swallowed his whole load, letting the little bit that dripped from your mouth to be scooped up by your tongue. “Merry Christmas daddy..” you tease and he groans “get the fuck over here” he growls and stands up, pulling you up and throwing you on the bed.

Anakin kisses up your thighs and nips at the conjunction between your thighs and hips “fuck me babygirl..” he coos “so good with the little ones, makes me wanna give you one of our own” he growls before ripping off your panties with his teeth, tearing the delicate lace.

“Oh! Mm.. please.. give me a baby.. make me full..” you spread your legs, allowing him to see the wetness of your cunt. You pull your knees to your chest and your puffy, pink clit pops out from between your glistening folds.

Your boyfriend tugs his cock a few times, using the thumb on his other hands to tease your sensitive bud “I’ll give you a fucking baby.. I’ll pump you full of my cum..” he promises as he folds you in half and bullies his cock into your cunt “I’ll make you so full your forget what it’s like to be.. empty..” he grunts and starts to pump his thick, heavy cock into your puffy pussy.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck!” You groan and bite your finger, trying to refrain from waking up Luke and Leia. Each thrust leaves a sticky squelch behind, the sound and smell of your combined arousal is like Anakins personal heroin, each jiggle of your tits, every choked sob that leaves your mouth, it’s all Anakin will ever need.

“Cum, fucking cream all over my cock, you’re already clenching me so good.. let me feel you cum” he demands and slaps your folds a few times. Pinching your clit ever so slightly.

You listen almost instantly, your back arching and a loud whimper escaping your throat, cunt fluttering around his invasive manhood. Anakin isn’t far behind, shorting his hot and sticky load into your womb, making sure to fuck it against your cervix, making sure to take advantage of your little fertile body.

As soon as the sexual haze lifts off the room, Anakin turned back into your loving and doting boyfriend. “Oh baby.. did I hurt you?” He lifts you up and lays you on his chest “that was so good, you did so good..” he coos gently and you nuzzle him “mhm.. I’m okay.. ‘m perfect..” you assure him.

He lets out a comforting sigh and nods “so perfect.. my perfect girl.. my most wonderful Christmas present..” he kisses you softly “Merry Christmas doll..”

You lean into it “Merry Christmas, daddy.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

SAM MONROE hadn't exactly have the best track record with decision-making. And now? Well, he was proving that point in the most impossible way imaginable.

“Sam,” you started, voice a little breathless but laced with some kind of warning

With chest still raising and falling rapidly and sweat clinging to his skin, he propped himself on one shaky arm to change position, whining about how wet everything is, how his dick hurt after the new position you suggested. You've been doing something you shouldn't really be doing, but again, here you were, catching your breath while your mind recalled the last moments, ignoring your boyfriend by your side

And then it hit you

“Hmm?” he mumbled, eyes half-lidded as he flopped down beside you, one arm lazily slung over his face.

Sam stilled for half a second, brows furrowing like he was mentally replaying the last few minutes. Then, he let out a nonchalant huff, lips twitching into that damn cocky smirk. “Yeah, of course I did. Right on time.” he dragged the last sentence with proudness

“You, uh… You pulled out, right?” Your tone had that edge of 'I already know the answer, but I need to hear you say it'

You stared at him, deadpan. “Sam. Be serious.”

“I am serious!” He pushed himself up on one elbow, gesturing with his free hand as if that would somehow make his argument more convincing. “I pulled out.. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” You sat up, glaring at him now.

Sam rolled his eyes, the smirk faltering just a little as he scratched the back of his neck. “Look, I felt like it was enough, alright? Don’t make it a whole thing.” he laid his head back down on his pillow

“A whole thing?” You practically gawked at him, your hands gesturing wildly in frustration “Sam, that’s not exactly how this works!”

He whined, covering his face with his hands. “You’re stressin’ me out now. It’s fine. You’re fine. We’re fine.”

You shot him a look that screamed nothing positive, with a lot of curse words “I swear, Sam, if you’ve--”

“Alright, alright!” he cut you off, sitting up with a dramatic sigh. Hands fell to his lap, and he looked at you with that blend of annoyance and affection only he could pull off. “Next time, I’ll--whatever, okay? Just… stop lookin’ at me like I just murdered a puppy or somethin’.”

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

[divineani]

This is beautiful.

𝐃𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬

Warnings: 18+, p in v, unprotected sex

Anakin grunts, irritated, as the sound of his com-link echoes through the room, amidst the clothes scattered on the floor—remnants of the previous night’s activities. The sound of the device cuts through the comfortable silence of the morning, an inconvenient reminder of his duties at the Jedi Temple, signaling that his time alone with you has come to an end.

He tries—in vain—to untangle himself from your body without waking you. You immediately open your eyes, fixing your sleepy gaze on the young Jedi who is getting out of bed. You move your left hand, trying to bring him back to bed. “Ani, come back. Now.”

A soft smile escapes his lips as he leans in to place a kiss on your forehead. “Go back to sleep, love.” The faint morning light casts a gentle glow on his golden curls, which cascade softly over his forehead. “Obi-Wan is waiting for me.”

“Please” you say, looking at him with doe eyes, gripping his arm more firmly in an attempt to pull him back into the bed. Surprisingly, he gives in. The mattress sinking under his weight. “Babe, I...” he starts to protest, but suddenly shudders as you begin placing kisses along his jaw. “Need you,”

“That’s... not fair.” He draws in a shaky breath, his morning arousal pressing against your thigh. You know it isn’t—still, you find yourself trying to hold on to every brief second with him, as if by sheer will, you could stretch them into eternity. “Want you, Ani... Inside.” You whisper as you wrap one of your legs over his body, hooking it around his waist.

All the self-control he has disappears, and he attacks your lips with raw intensity, every fiber of his body consumed by his need for you. “Fuck, babe” and before you can let out another desperate plea he’s inside you.

A soft groan escapes your lips. Eyes fluttering shut, as your hands reach up to tangle gently in Anakin’s hair. Low, incoherent pleas spilling from his mouth as he starts moving, his face hidden against the warmth of your neck. Your sounds echoing through the room, like a prayer.

“Mhmm, so... so good, Ani—making me feel so good.” Anakin bites your shoulder as he intensifies his thrusts, dragging his cock in and out at a faster pace, nearly bursting into flames at being praised. “Fuck... squeezing me so tight, babe... shit.” He grips your hips, pulling you closer as if he feared you might slip away if he didn’t hold on.

The new angle pushes you towards the edges of an orgasm and before you realize it, your breathing fails and you are coming undone. He lifts his head and watches you, intently, as your body rode it out. After a few more thrusts, Anakin cums, collapsing on top of you. His mind hazy, wanting nothing more than to remain in this moment forever.

The sunlight pours into the room, and for a moment, all that can be heard is your heavy breathing, until Anakin's com-link buzzes again. “Shit, Obi-Wan’s gonna kill me.”

divider by saradika-graphics

[xoxo-hayden-fangurl-xoxo]

Hayden loves black outfits😋😘

[lacebird]

There are these things that permeate our culture in a way that you don't even need to know the stories, and still, Star Wars will resonate with you. That's, I think, remarkable.

[valkyrieromanoff]

🎀Co-star Hayden Christensen Headcanons🎀

Co-star Hayden who reaches out without thinking, cupping his hand over your forehead to shield you from the sunlight, his fingers brushing your skin as he murmurs, “Can’t have anything distracting you.” He lingers just a moment too long before pulling away.

Co-star Hayden who slips off his coat and wraps it around your shoulders with a quiet, “Here, let me.” He straightens the collar gently, his fingers lingering near your neck, almost like he’s finding excuses to be close to you.

Co-star Hayden who always keeps mints in his pocket, and just before each interview, he hands one to you with a soft smile and a playful, “Good luck charm.” It’s a private ritual he’s made just for the two of you, a way of calming your nerves that feels personal.

Co-star Hayden who never rushes you when you’re rehearsing, even if he’s long since memorized his lines. Instead, he watches you closely, offering small suggestions, but mainly just soaking up the extra moments together, as if he’s content with these little bits of time.

Co-star Hayden who instinctively places a hand at the small of your back whenever you walk together, his touch subtle but steady, as if he’s silently saying, “I’m here.” It becomes second nature, like a wordless promise of support.

Co-star Hayden who keeps his hand entwined with yours when you’re at crowded events, his thumb brushing along your knuckles every now and then—a quiet, steadying gesture that grounds you both in the whirlwind around you.

Co-star Hayden who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze whenever you’re feeling nervous, his touch warm and calming. He never says much, just a quiet look that says he understands and is there with you, come what may.

Co-star Hayden who subtly traces gentle, reassuring patterns on your back when a journalist gets too personal, his fingers a silent reminder of his unwavering support, always reading your unspoken signals.

Co-star Hayden who’s your biggest ally when criticism comes your way, his words so full of admiration that you can’t help but feel a little braver. “Don’t forget how talented you are,” he’ll murmur, a soft conviction in his voice that makes you believe it a little more every time.

Co-star Hayden who brings you coffee just the way you like it, setting it beside you quietly, a knowing look in his eyes that says he’s been watching closely enough to memorize your quirks. His lingering gaze almost says more than his words ever could.

Co-star Hayden who sends you small, playful messages between scenes, his humor shining through as he sends little reminders of inside jokes, just to make sure he’s the reason you smile, even on the longest days.

Co-star Hayden who learns your favorite snacks by heart and sneaks them into your bag when he senses you’re overwhelmed, saying only, “You’ve got to take care of yourself,” but with an intensity in his voice that suggests he’s already taken that responsibility on himself.

Co-star Hayden who steps a little closer before every big scene, holding your gaze and saying, “You’ve got this.” His words are quiet, his voice soft, but he always lingers just a moment longer than necessary, as if he’s afraid to let go.

Co-star Hayden who praises you almost shyly to others, but when he looks at you, there’s a warmth and pride in his eyes that speaks of something deeper, something he can’t quite hide, like he’s hoping you’ll see the world the way he does—through a lens of admiration for you.

Co-star Hayden who, after a long day, finds a quiet moment to murmur, “You’re more than just an amazing actor, you know.” His words hang in the air between you, his voice laced with something genuine and unspoken, as if he’s not just talking about your performance, but about you.

[castiwls]

invisible string .ᐟ

Paring; anakin x reader

Prompt; 'And isn't it just so pretty to think. All along there was some Invisible string tying you to me?'

Requested; anon

Notes; reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Fate wasn’t something you truly believed in. The force sure, but fate? That was something children were told to help keep them optimistic or explain coincidences which were just slightly too perfect - parental intervention or not.

Things happened for a reason - but fate was not a reason.

Anakin Skywalker however seemed to be determined to make you believe that fate was real and that it was fate that the two of you ended up in the hallway and the same time at the exact moment a droid decided to trip you up and right into his arms.

Of course, you’d heard of him but you’d never met him. Your master had once described life as being led by a little golden string. Every event was linked and sometimes some people's strings intertwined together when those people were meant to meet.

Anakin seemed convinced that your strings were meant to intertwine and he was doing everything he could to make sure you knew this. First, it was the fact that you were both born on Tatooine and then it became the fact that you both were in the same youngling group (you never spoke) and finally the fact that you both just happened to have quarters in the same wing.

You continued to push that “it’s just a coincidence. It’s not fate, we’re the same age of course we’d be in the same temple group.” Every time Anakin would simply laugh before shrugging and making a comment about how. “A coincidence is fate.” He’d grin wrapping an arm over your shoulder and joining you on whatever errand you were running.

Though Anakin Skywalker was anything if not determined. And he was determined to make you see that your meeting was years in the making - every little action had led to your strings intertwining more and more until that one day in the corridor. 

⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *⋆·˚ ༘ *

“Can I help?” You jumped slightly as a voice broke through the silence and you whipped around to find Anakin grinning back at you, half his body hidden behind the door frame. 

“How did you even find me?” 

“I have my ways.”

“You asked half the temple didn't you?”

“...No” 

You huffed as he stepped closer to where you were currently sat hunched over a droid which you’d spent the last three hours trying to fix. “You look a bit stuck there.” Anakin gestured to the parts strewn all over the floor before crouching down to pick one up. 

“Use this. It’s easier to tighten the smaller bolts.” He pressed the tool into your hand with a small smile. You frowned blinking at him for a moment before nodding and taking the tool. “Thanks.” You did as he said and quickly found him to be right. 

The bolt tightened almost immediately and Anakin made a small noise of satisfaction as you stared down at the bolt. You’d spent the last half an hour trying to get the damn thing to tighten and he’d solved it in less than a minute.

“See. Like I said, much easier.” He squeezed your shoulder before moving to sit down properly beside you. “Here.” He reached over to gently take the tool and the droid. “Let me.” 

He worked in relative silence for a while as you watched. “Why are you so obsessed with the idea of befriending me?” Your words surprised you - the thought not meant to have left your lips but Anakin simply smiled. 

“Because, I think you're an interesting person.” His shoulder bumped yours “And like I said it does seem kinda like fate that we just happened to have so much in common before we even spoke.” You huffed rolling your eyes as he laughed quietly.

“Remember that little thread that we were taught about?”

“Of course I do.”

“Yeah, that little thread is like fate-”

“Anakin-”

He simply cut you off placing the droid down. “I like you. And I don’t think it's a coincidence that we met.” You pursed your lips. He really wasn’t going to leave this alone. “It’s too perfect that we just happen to be from the same town and spent most of our childhoods in the same environment and never met. I think we were meant to meet when we did.”

You sucked in a breath watching him for a moment. You could almost hear the passion in his words almost. He really believed in this - that for whatever reason you were fated to meet.

“Let me prove it to you. Give me a month.” Anakin offered turning to face you fully. “Prove to you that the story about those strings was true.”

[ventressism]

will never get over these 🧎‍♀️‍➡️

[nemesyaaa]

fallen angel

[anisangeldust]

please please sub sam i’m actually in a drought i need that bratty bitch

I gotchu Zapz <3

“Fuckin’ liar Monroe..” you breathe into his ear while your hand pumps up and down his leaky cock a pathetic whine leaving his bitten lips. The same SAM MONROE that insisted he was talented in the bedroom.

“I’ll make you fucking scream my name” he said

“I’ve been with so many girls, I’ll know how to please you” he said

“You won’t be able to walk after” he said

All these statements said with a confidence that shattered the minute he saw you in a state of undress, as if the image of your tits had triggered a sleeper cell spy reaction from him. Now the same teenage boy that promised to pound you was whining and splayed out in your bed like a bitch while you have him a lousy handjob. The brows that once smoldered at you were now knit together and furrowed.

“M sorry! Okay? You never.. mmpphh.. nagh..” he let out a high pitch whine “would done anything with me.. if you knew..” he argued.

“If I knew what?” You tease “a virgin?”

“I’m not a virgin!” He huffs, but his eyes and body insist otherwise.

The smile drops form your face instantly, leaving only the look of a women who was about to make Sam regret ever talking back, and it made him impossibly harder “yeah? How about you say that to how you’re reciting to me?” You raise your brows and drop your ministrations on his cock.

“No! I.. ‘m not.. I just.. ‘m sorry, okay?” He huffs and looks away, muttering ‘bitch’ under his breath

Your playful teasing turned into genuine harshness as you have his creamy thigh a smack “oh? Well how about I show you how much of a bitch I can be? How about you don’t cum the entire night yeah? If you’re so sexually well versed you can handle that, right?” You spit into your palm and begin to agonizingly slowly pump his cock once again

“Please! I didn’t mean it!” He winced at the slap, but the twitching of his member and the pre leaking from the tip was all you needed.

You chuckle, “well it sounds like you did.” You taunt, brining a hand to his neck and squeezing it ever so slightly “open.” You demand, and he replies instantly, sticking his tongue out.

“Good boy” you coo and spit into his mouth, he whines and swallows it without being asked, making it so you pump his cock just a tad faster.

“See? That’s what happens when you listen” you coo into his ear “bitch.”

[anakinstwinklebunny]

hey, so this might be kind of unusual/weird for an Anakin request (? more like a wish tbh), but I'll toss it in here in case you're interested or find this one fun

a fluffy (mostly) sfw thing about AOTC!Anakin who's gotten somehow teleported in y/n's reality (modern AU) having bonded with y/n over their time trying to figure out a way to get Anakin back safely

basically Anakin giving words of encouragement and appreciation and hugs and kisses to a person who's done so much to try and help him with this completely absurd problem even among the stressors of her own daily life that still goes on in the background

like a cute moment of the two just chilling one evening and him thanking her for everything in the best way he knows

+ canon typical awkward flirting maybe 👉👈 because he is kind of crushing on y/n, isn't he

Whenever you turned your gaze towards your window, all you saw was a soft, dreamy purple, streaked with gold while the sun slowly sank beneath the horizon. You and ANAKIN SKYWALKER were sitting side by side on the couch, in such quietness and calmness that was too often a rare moment in your life ever since he'd stumbled into your reality. On your lap you held your tablet, scrolling through forums and articles with furrowed brows, hoping to find literally anything that could help

"You're too good at this," he said suddenly with voice warm yet low.

your lips curled into the softness smile "Too good at what? Staying up late to doom-scroll weird theories on the internet?"

"No," he shook his head, golden, short curls catching the light. "Too good at... everything. You’ve taken this insane situation and somehow made me feel like I’m not a complete disaster for being here."

You laughed softly, nudging his shoulder with yours. "I don’t think you’re a disaster, Anakin. Well… maybe not a complete disaster, anyway."

He chuckled, grin boyish and bright yet his expression so quickly softened. "I mean it, though," voice quieter now. "You didn’t have to do any of this. You have your own life, your own worries, and you’ve still gone out of your way to help me. You didn’t even freak out that much when I told you I was from… another galaxy, another time.." his thumb nervously digging into his second finger

You shrugged, a teasing smile playing on your lips. "I figured if I could survive adulting and terrible coffee, I could survive you."

His lips twitched in amusement, yet his gaze stayed on you, uncharacteristically serious for someone like him "You’ve done more for me than anyone has in a long time. I just... I wanted to say thank you. For all of it."

His flesh hand brushed over yours, fingers curling tentatively around your skin, bringing it closer, to his lap, his long fingers stroking over your knuckles or the palm of your hand in repeat motion

"You don’t have to thank me," your tone soft, eyes gazing straight into his ocean ones then back at your connected hands "I couldn’t just leave you to figure this out alone. And besides…" you hesitated, suddenly shy. "I like having you here. Even if you do steal my phone charger and complain about modern plumbing."

He groaned dramatically, rolling his eyes and immediately letting go of your hand to highlight his sudden state even more "You wound me, angel. I only complained once.." when you offered him a sceptically raised brow, he added "all right..twice"

You shook your head, laughing not so loudly. "You’re impossible."

"And you’re amazing," he countered without thought, only causing his ears to flush a faint pink. It looked like he was just caught red-handed, as if he may take it back, yet, he kept going nervously, shyly "I-i mean it. You… you’ve been a lot of things to me, but most of all, yo-u’ve been kind. And I, uh...i won’t forget that."

Before you could reply, he tugged you closer, his arms wrapping around your waist in a hug that was both awkward and heartfelt. His chin rested lightly against the top of your head, and you swore the position wasn't the best, but being snuggled to the Anakin Skywalker, repaid everything.

For a moment, neither of you dared to say anything. Just being wrapped in his young arms, ear right where his heartbeat was settled, gave you a peacefulness you've been missing through these days. And of course, your nose couldn't help but pick up the faint smell of your body wash he had stolen this morning - men..

"Anakin," you murmured after a moment, cheek resting against his chest.

"Yeah?" voice hesitant.

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, hand still lightly resting on his chest. "You’re not so bad yourself, you know."

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne

[fredswrite]

SUMMARY: When you finaly have a break from the christmas festivities, your husband and you find the time to watch the stars like you used too.

A/N: This is a little late, but I went back to my grandparents' house this Christmas, me and my cousins met again after years without seeing each other it was so nice. We went outside and went sledding like little kids at night, it was so pretty and made me write this hehe

WC: 1.1k

WARNING: A bunch of fluff, mention of sexual content, not smut but almost.

MLST

STARGAZING

Anakin and you always had this habit of watching the winter stars together, but when you had the twins, you couldn't find the time to do it anymore. In five years, Luke and Leia couldn't be left alone in the snow without it turning into a snowball fight or someone getting hurt.

And this year Christmas night wasn't an exception. You, Leia and Padmé sat alongside each other on the couch while Anakin, Obi-Wan and Satine were in the chairs in front. Luke, as usual, sat in the lap of his grandmother Shmi. Ashoka and Rex were doing a karaoke in front of the TV screen. Present wrapped and bags torn apart by the children everywhere.

The twins were smiling happily with their new toys as you laughed about Obi-Wan's joke. You looked at your husband, admiring his beautiful aging features. You haven't had some time along is so long, yet you were on holiday break, you should be able to take a break from everything.

Padmé noticed your look, whispering something in your ears. "You should go take some time for yourself. Don't worry about the kids for once."

You smiled at her, unsure if you should stop worrying for once. But that look in her eyes was enough to convince you. You stood up from your seat, gaining the gazes of others.

"I'm gonna go outside for a while, to look at the stars." Luke's eyes instantly turned to you, his love for astronomy showing. "Alone." You added in a chuckle.

You put on your boots and grab your coat, gloves, torque and scarf. You opened the door to your backyard balcony, breathing in the soft scent of the snow. The two plastic chairs were covered in snow as you brushed it away with your sleeve.

The stars lighted the dark sky as you gazed about the constellations you could never remember the name of. The music of the house was already a distant plea for festivities. All it missed was your husband.

Like a Christmas wish, the door slides open to reveal Anakin in his all-black winter suit. He smiled when he saw you and took the seat next to yours. "Hey babe." He gave a kiss to your forehead, yanking your chair closer to him with a single motion.

"Hey, honey." You replied with a chuckle. "You finally escaped the kids?" His hand fell behind your shoulders to hold you.

"Padmé convinced them to play some board game." He laughed as you let your head fall to his lap, looking at the stars in the sky.

"I wish her luck."

God, he loved it when you laughed like that. You were his whole life, his light in the darkness, his heart. All he could ever wish for was your love, and who wouldn't when they got an angel laughing in their lap?

"She loves them." He replied with a chuckle. "What were you doing out here?"

"I was watching the stars like we used to." You murmured, looking at what you remember was the centaur. "Luke got that from you."

"That's the great bear over here." He pointed towards another spot in the sky. His eyes glowed when he talked about his passion. You listened to him rent about the Greek signification of every star. Nothing could ever compare to stargazing with him.

But at some point you stopped listening to him, just staring at his beautiful features. His lips moved as he spoke, his smile curving on his cheeks. His large hand stocked your hair away from your face. "And that's-"

He couldn't finish his sentence, that you cut him off. "I love you." And he smirked even more.

"I love you too baby." He pulled you upwards in his lap by the hips. He grabbed your thigh, stroking the fabric of your pants with his gloves. His lips carefully approached your own as your fingers moved around his jaw.

When he finally reached you, you gently moved around his thigh, kissing him with such passion. His tongue explored your mouth like a starved man. You hoped the kids were well-occupied inside the house and would not share glances outside.

It may have been cold outside, but that didn't stop you from unzipping Anakin's coat as you took your gloves off. Your hand slipped under his coat to his sweater, one that Leia picked out. It was a green and red one where we could read Girl Dad. You had the same one for Luke.

His hand on your legs moved to hold the flesh in your ass. You chuckled on his lips, your freezing finger tracing the curve of his abs. Even with the multiple layers of clothing, you felt his bulge growing on you.

"Such a tease..." He whispered, his kisses going to your neck. "If the kids weren't here I swear I'd get you pregnant again right now." He groaned as he bite on your pulse point, pressing the top of your coat out of the way.

"Anakin..." His name left your mouth like a prayer. You always liked the thought of having another child.

"Yeah? You'd like that? Being all swollen with my baby... so kriffing hot."

And it was at that instant that you saw your children putting on their snowsuits, with the help of Shmi and Rex, on the other side of the tinted door. "Shit.." You said to your husband, but your sound was understood as something else.

"Baby..."

"No Anakin, you patted his chest and reluctantly pulled away, they're coming."

He looked behind him and noticed the little figure approaching the balcony. He quickly fixed you on the chair, gave you your glove and zipped his coat up his nose.

Leia opened the door and rushed in your arms as you chuckled at the still visible tent in his pants. Luke walked to his dad asking more about the stars. You and Anakin looked at each other, a playful smirk on your faces.

"Merry Christmas honey." He told you with a kiss that was interrupted by Leia's little hand and her sound of disgust.

[speaknow-sw]

THE POET AND THE ROSE

Content : light description of injury, stitching. Plot with plot.

A/N ; Sooo here I am with chapter 2 and I’ve decided to say : FUCK THE HATERS !!! Here’s a 4.1k word king chapter WITHOUT smut for the real people pleasure. Anyway guys I swear I’m getting better with English poetry but this chapter really shows that English is not my first language. 😭 (just let you know that I’ll still cross post this story on ao3)

꧁ Chapter 2 : Bound in Silence ꧂

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

"Two hearts bound by duty’s chain,

Silent as the falling rain.

Walls we’ve built, cold and high,

Guard the truths we both deny.”

As the days turned to weeks, the initial passion and tenderness shared between you and Anakin faded like a distant memory, replaced by an unsettling void. He was consumed by his duties as General, often riding out at dawn to attend to the needs of his men and the villages under British protection. You were left to navigate the labyrinthine castle and the complexities of the British court alone.

The castle was a sprawling, ancient edifice filled with echoing corridors and shadowy alcoves. The air was always thick with the scent of beeswax candles and the faint, lingering aroma of history. The servants regarded you with a mix of curiosity and wariness, unsure of how to address the French princess who had become their lady.

At court, the British nobles eyed you with a combination of disdain and fascination. Whispers followed you through the grand halls, and you could feel their judging stares boring into your back. Not a single soul approached you, and you were left to wander the lavish rooms alone, a solitary figure amidst the glittering tapestries and ornate furniture.

Anakin's absence left you with an aching emptiness in your chest. You found yourself longing for his presence, for the warmth of his touch and the depth of his gaze. But as the days stretched on without a word from him, you began to wonder if you had imagined the connection between you.

Late one evening, as you sat alone in the grand library, poring over a dusty tome, you heard a soft knock at the door. Startled, you looked up to see a young page standing nervously in the doorway.

"Your Highness," he stammered, his eyes downcast. "Lord Skywalker left you a letter."

Anakin's name sent a jolt of anticipation and trepidation through you. You set down the book and rose to your feet, taking the letter with trembling hands.

My wife,

I have news from the front. The Scottish have launched a surprise attack on a village near the border. I need to lead my men and repel the invasion. But I cannot leave without ensuring your safety.

I have arranged for a contingent of my most trusted men to remain here and protect you in my absence. They will be stationed around the castle and will escort you wherever you need to go within the palace walls. Additionally, I have instructed the head of the household staff, Lady Fawcett, to assist you with any needs or concerns you may have during my time away.

I regret that I cannot be here to attend to you personally, but I assure you, your safety and well-being are of the utmost importance to me. I expect to return within a fortnight, barring any unforeseen delays or complications on the battlefield.

In my absence, I would ask that you remain within the castle walls and avoid drawing undue attention to yourself. The British court can be a treacherous place, and as my wife, you may face opposition and resentment from those who oppose our union.

I have also left instructions with the royal treasurer to ensure you have access to any funds you may require during my time away. If there is anything else you need, please do not hesitate to send a message to me through one of the soldiers I have assigned to your protection.

I know this is not the honeymoon either of us envisioned, but I assure you, my thoughts will be with you always. I will return to you in approximately three nights.  

Yours,

Anakin Skywalker

General of the British Army.

The days dragged on, each one blurring into the next as you wandered the castle's endless corridors, your footsteps echoing in the cavernous halls. Anakin's letter, once read, now felt cold and impersonal, a mere formality to satisfy some sense of duty rather than a heartfelt expression of devotion.

As the week mark approached, you found yourself retreating to the castle's art studio, a room filled with dusty canvases and faded paints. Here, amidst the splattered palettes and rough sketches, you discovered a solace you hadn't known before.

You threw yourself into your work with a fervor bordering on mania, the frustration and loneliness that had been building inside you pouring out onto the canvas. Vibrant strokes of blue and gold swirled together, each brushstroke a testament to the tempest raging within your heart.

Days turned to weeks, and the paintings began to pile up around you - landscapes of the French countryside, portraits of imaginary figures, and abstract interpretations of the emotions you couldn't voice. The servants whispered amongst themselves, marveling at the princess's talent and the raw, almost desperate passion in each piece.

Yet even as you lost yourself in the throes of creation, a part of you remained acutely aware of the emptiness that had taken up residence in your chest. The ache of Anakin's absence was a constant companion, a dull throb that refused to dissipate.

You longed for his touch, for the warmth of his hand in yours or the strength of his arms around you. But as the days stretched on without a word from him, you began to wonder if you had imagined the connection between you. Perhaps it had been nothing more than a fleeting moment of passion, a dream that had slipped away like mist in the morning light.

The frustration grew with each passing day, a bitter taste on your tongue that no amount of paint could sweeten. You had married a stranger, a man who seemed more at home on the battlefield than in the castle with his new bride. The realization stung, a painful reminder of the gulf that yawned between you.

Late one evening, as you stood back to admire your latest work - a swirling tempest of emotion rendered in shades of black and crimson - you heard a soft knock at the door. Startled, you turned to see one of Anakin's soldiers standing nervously in the doorway.

The soldier stood at attention, his eyes downcast as he delivered his message. "Your Highness, I am to escort you to the small gathering of ladies in the rose garden."

With a sigh, you set down your palette and followed the soldier through the winding corridors of the castle. As you approached the rose garden, the tinkling laughter of the ladies reached your ears, a discordant sound that set your teeth on edge.

You entered the garden, the heady scent of roses thick in the air. The ladies, a gaggle of British nobles, fell silent as you approached. They regarded you with a mix of disdain and curiosity, their eyes raking over your paint-stained dress with disapproval.

You took a seat on a wrought-iron bench, feeling the weight of their stares and the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. The conversation continued in hushed tones, but you caught snippets of rumblings about French unrest and discontent with the treaty.

"...heard whispers of rebellion in the countryside..."

"...the common folk grow weary of British rule..."

"...perhaps it is time we remind the French of their place..."

The words sent a chill down your spine, and you hugged your arms around yourself, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.

As the gathering drew to a close, you excused yourself, eager to retreat to the solitude of your chambers. You bid the ladies goodnight, but your words fell on deaf ears as they continued their hushed conversations, oblivious to your presence.

The castle halls were quiet that evening, the distant sounds of servants preparing for supper muffled by the thick stone walls. You had wandered further than usual in search of solace, your thoughts preoccupied with Anakin's sudden departure and the icy distance that lingered between you. It was this distraction that led you down an unfamiliar corridor near the great library—one you rarely visited.

As you turned the corner, the low murmur of voices caught your attention. Instinctively, you pressed yourself against the cool stone wall, heart quickening. Voices carried easily through the narrow passageway, and you strained to make out the conversation.

"You can't keep delaying," came a sharp, familiar tone. It was your father’s emissary, Gaius. His voice carried the edge of urgency, as though chastising his companion. "The treaty is nothing more than a formality. It served its purpose—peace to distract the British, but the real work must begin."

"I understand, but you underestimate the General," a second voice replied, smooth and measured. You recognized Count Aulbry's distinctive cadence— the French nobles who had attended your wedding. "Skywalker is no fool. He’ll sense something is amiss before long. And the princess..." Aulbry let the word linger, almost derisively.

"The princess is irrelevant," Gaius interrupted impatiently. "She was always a pawn in the larger game, and she’s played her part. Her marriage softened the General enough to open the gates. We’ve bought time, and that’s all we needed."

A cold chill ran down your spine. They were speaking of you—of your marriage. A pawn? Softened the General? You pressed your hand against the wall to steady yourself, swallowing the lump rising in your throat.

"But what of the King ? The Scottish ?" Aulbry asked, his voice low now, almost conspiratorial. "He’ll have to act soon, or it will be too late to reclaim what is ours."

Your father's name was not spoken aloud, but it didn’t need to be. You knew in that moment that the treaty—your marriage—was not the olive branch you had believed. It was a strategy, a ruse.

"He’ll act," Gaius said, his voice cold with certainty. "And when he does, Skywalker won’t see it coming. The King and his allies knows where their loyalties lie, as do we."

A heavy silence followed, broken only by the sound of retreating footsteps. You remained pressed against the wall, your breath shallow, every word reverberating in your mind. The betrayal was clear, but the full scope of their plan was not. Your father’s emissary and Count Aulbry were working together, and worse, it seemed your father himself might be complicit.

The castle gates creaked open as the thunder of hooves filled the courtyard. You stood atop the stone steps, clutching the edges of your shawl against the biting wind, your heart racing with a mixture of relief and apprehension. Anakin had returned. The news had come just moments ago—a British victory against the Scots. Yet whispers of injuries had reached the castle before him, carried by grim-faced soldiers.

When he rode through the gates, you felt your breath catch. Anakin sat slouched in the saddle, his usually rigid posture softened by pain. His tunic was darkened with blood near his shoulder, the shaft of an arrow protruding from his back. Dirt and sweat streaked his face, but his piercing blue eyes were sharp as ever, scanning the courtyard with the wariness of a man who never let his guard down.

"Bring a medic," you called to the nearest servant, your voice firm despite the growing knot in your chest. Without waiting for a reply, you descended the steps quickly, your skirts swishing against the cold stone.

Anakin dismounted slowly, his movements deliberate but betraying the agony he must have been feeling. His jaw clenched tightly, and he ignored the outstretched hands of the knights who came to steady him. His gaze flicked to you briefly as you approached, and though his expression remained stoic, you could see the faintest flicker of something softer in his eyes—relief, perhaps, or simply acknowledgment.

"You should be resting," you said softly, stepping closer.

"I'm fine," he replied, his voice rough. He moved past you toward the castle, but his steps faltered. Instinctively, you reached out to steady him, your hand brushing his arm.

"You're not fine," you insisted, your voice firmer now. "Let me help."

He stopped, his back to you, tension radiating from his frame. For a moment, you thought he might refuse outright. But then he nodded, almost imperceptibly, and allowed you to guide him inside.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

“Pools of depth where truths reside,

The storm within I cannot hide.

No blade, no shield could pierce me through,

But her gaze undoes what war can’t do."

In the warmth of his chambers, you worked quickly, dismissing the servants to care for him yourself. He sat on the edge of the bed, his armor discarded in a heap on the floor. The sight of his injury was worse than you’d expected—the arrowhead was embedded deeply, the skin around it swollen and angry.

"You shouldn’t have ridden all this way with this still in you," you murmured, gathering the supplies from the table.

"I’ve had worse," he replied tersely, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness. He avoided your gaze, his focus fixed on the floor.

You said nothing, dipping a cloth into a basin of warm water and beginning to clean the blood around the wound. He flinched slightly at the touch but didn’t pull away.

"Hold still," you said gently.

His lips pressed into a thin line, but he obeyed, his breathing shallow as you worked. You couldn’t help but notice how tightly wound he was, his body tense even in his exhaustion. Yet beneath that cold exterior, you felt a strange tenderness—a sense of trust he didn’t know how to express.

When you began cutting away the remnants of his tunic to access the wound better, he finally broke the silence. "You shouldn’t be doing this."

"I’m your wife," you said simply, glancing up at him. "Who else should care for you?"

He didn’t respond, his jaw tightening again. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he seemed to battle his own instincts—to push you away, to protect himself.

"You don’t have to bear everything alone, you know," you added softly, focusing on the arrow. "Even generals need someone to lean on."

The words hung in the air, met with silence. But when you looked up again, you found his gaze on you, and for the briefest moment, the walls he kept so carefully constructed seemed to crack. There was something unspoken in his eyes—gratitude, perhaps, or respect.

"It’ll hurt," you warned, gripping the shaft of the arrow carefully.

"It already does," he muttered.

You worked quickly, pulling the arrow free in one swift motion. He hissed sharply, his fingers digging into the bedsheets, but he didn’t cry out. Blood welled up immediately, and you pressed a clean cloth to the wound, holding it firmly to staunch the bleeding.

"Almost done," you murmured.

He didn’t reply, his eyes closing briefly as you worked. When you finished cleaning and stitching the wound, you sat back with a sigh, your hands trembling slightly from the effort.

"There," you said, your voice softening. "It’s done."

He opened his eyes and looked at you, his expression unreadable. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, almost imperceptibly, he nodded.

"Thank you," he said, his voice low and gruff.

It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make your heart ache. You knew he wasn’t used to this—to someone caring for him, to someone seeing the man beneath the armor. And though he didn’t say it, you could feel his respect for you growing, like a quiet ember in the cold.

"Rest," you told him, rising to your feet. "You’ll heal faster if you let yourself."

He didn’t argue, his gaze following you as you gathered the bloodied cloths and stepped toward the door. Just as you reached it, his voice stopped you.

"Stay."

It was a single word, spoken softly but with weight. You turned back to see him watching you, his defenses lowered just enough for you to see the man behind them.

You nodded and returned to his side, sitting quietly as he drifted into a fitful sleep. And though he didn’t reach for your hand, you stayed close, your presence a silent promise that he didn’t have to face his burdens alone.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

Her touch is the breeze, her voice the stream,

A melody woven through my dream.

Yet when I reach, she fades from sight,

A phantom born of longing’s light.

The morning was heavy with fog, the sky a dull, oppressive gray. The castle bustled with preparations for Anakin’s departure, servants hurrying to pack his provisions and polish his armor. You stood near the hearth in the solar, wringing your hands as you listened to the muffled clamor from the courtyard below.

He would leave again, summoned back to the battlefield, back to the unending war that seemed to consume every fragment of his life. And once again, you would remain behind, alone in the echoing halls of this castle.

You turned toward the desk near the window, where a stack of parchment and a few books sat in neat disarray. Among them lay a small leather notebook, its cover smooth and worn from use. You had left it there days ago, a forgotten remnant of your attempts to sketch or write, your restless mind unable to find focus.

The door opened, and you turned to see Anakin stepping inside. He wore his traveling cloak, his broad shoulders stiff with the weight of command. His gaze swept over the room, landing briefly on you before shifting away.

“I leave within the hour,” he said, his voice flat, as if delivering a report rather than a goodbye.

You nodded, your chest tightening. “I see.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke. He moved to the window, staring out at the courtyard below where his men were assembling. His presence filled the room, a storm contained within the man. You wanted to say something—to ask him to stay, to tell him to be careful—but the words lodged in your throat.

Instead, you stepped forward. “I’ll have the servants bring your things.”

“I’ve already seen to it,” he replied, his tone distant.

Silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You turned back toward the desk, unsure of what else to say, and ran your fingers over the leather notebook.

“Is that yours?” he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the quiet.

You glanced over your shoulder, surprised. He was watching you now, his blue eyes sharp and curious.

“Yes,” you said softly. “I haven’t used it much. It’s… just for thoughts. Or sketches.”

He stepped closer, his gaze flicking to the notebook before returning to you. “You don’t mind if I take it?”

The question caught you off guard. “Of course not,” you said quickly, holding it out to him.

He took it from your hands, his fingers brushing yours briefly. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a ripple through the air between you. He studied the notebook for a moment, his expression unreadable, before tucking it into the satchel at his side.

“Thank you,” he said gruffly, his voice softer now.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Be safe, Anakin.”

His gaze lingered on you, and for a moment, you thought he might say something more. But then he turned, the storm in him retreating behind the cold armor he always wore.

When he was gone, the solar felt emptier than ever.

The clatter of hooves and the creak of carriage wheels echoed through the courtyard as Anakin prepared to depart. You stood at the top of the stone steps, watching the controlled chaos below. Knights in polished armor mounted their horses, squires hurried to secure provisions, and the castle staff bustled with last-minute preparations.

Amidst the activity, something felt off—a subtle tension in the air that you couldn’t quite name. The nobles gathered near the gates, their expressions carefully composed, but their whispered exchanges carried an undercurrent of unease. You noticed Count Aulbry standing apart, his sharp eyes scanning the soldiers with a calculating gaze. Your father’s emissary, Gaius, was there as well, speaking in hushed tones to another courtier. Their conversation stopped abruptly when they caught you watching, their smiles too quick, too polished.

Your heart tightened. Something was amiss, though you couldn’t say what.

Anakin emerged from the castle, drawing your attention away from the murmurs. Clad in his black cloak and gleaming armor, he exuded an unshakable authority, even with the strain of war etched into his features. He strode to his horse with purpose, but there was no mistaking the stiffness in his shoulders, the weight he bore with every step.

He mounted his horse with practiced ease, turning briefly to glance at you. His expression was unreadable, the familiar walls firmly in place. You took a step forward, wanting to say something—anything—but the words caught in your throat.

“Take care of yourself,” you managed finally, your voice soft.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, and though his face remained stoic, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unspoken. He nodded once, then spurred his horse forward.

You stood frozen on the steps as the company filed out through the gates, the sound of hoofbeats fading into the distance. The nobles watched the procession with guarded expressions, their whispers resuming the moment Anakin was out of sight. The unease in your chest grew, but you pushed it aside, unwilling to let it take root.

Later, the castle felt unbearably quiet, the emptiness pressing down on you. Restless, you retreated to your chambers and pulled out your paints, hoping to find solace in the familiar rhythm of brushstrokes. You set up your easel near the window, where the light spilled across the stone floor, and began to paint.

Anakin’s image filled the canvas—or it started to. You outlined the broad sweep of his shoulders clad in armor, the sharp angles of his face illuminated by the faint glow of the morning sun. Your brush moved with care, attempting to capture the power in his posture, the way his cloak billowed in the wind as he rode away.

But as the hours passed, your strokes faltered. The lines blurred; details escaped you. How could you fully capture the depths of a man who revealed so little of himself? His eyes, always so distant, defied your efforts to bring them to life. Frustrated, you set the brush down and studied the incomplete image.

His figure was there, half-formed and waiting, as though suspended in time. The armor gleamed, but the face remained unfinished—a shadow of the man he was, elusive and untouchable.

You sighed, running your fingers lightly over the edge of the canvas. It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t complete. And perhaps it wouldn’t be until he returned, until you could see him again and fill in the missing pieces.

For now, it would remain unfinished, just as so much between you did.

As the hours of his journey stretched into days, Anakin rode under the steel-gray skies, the leather notebook tucked securely in his pack. When the campfires burned low at night and the world grew quiet, he would open it, the blank pages staring back at him like a challenge.

His hands, so used to wielding a sword or penning commands, hesitated over the delicate task of crafting words not for strategy, but for her. Yet as the nights wore on, the words began to flow—hesitant at first, then with more certainty.

He wrote of her eyes, of the way they softened when she spoke. He wrote of the fleeting moments of her laughter, of the way her presence lingered like a melody long after she left a room.

The words he wrote were not for her to read, not yet. They were for himself, a small rebellion against the man the world demanded he be.

And as he closed the notebook each night, he wondered if she would ever truly know the depths of what he could not say.

From the Lays of General Anakin Skywalker, XIII century

"Amid the clash of steel and cries of war, I dream of hands that harm no more. The world is cruel, but she is kind, A gentle balm to a soldier’s mind."

[lacebird]

#official footage of anakin walking in and ruining my life in 2023

[starwarsfangirl]