#padmé x reader

[adrianvokov]

headers star wars like

[cassie48]

𝓗𝓘𝓢 𝓔𝓜𝓟𝓡𝓔𝓢𝓢

𝖣𝖺𝗋𝗍𝗁 𝗏𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 anakin 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

You were his prised possession. The very reason he lived. When he first met you on Tatooine as a boy he decided then and there, thatyou’d be his.

When he went back years later to seek out his mother, he met you again. 𝗜𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗵, he had decided. So he took you with him, despite what others thought.

Keeping you and him a secret was by far the hardest thing he had ever done. He was a very possessive man, and when anyone 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗲𝗱 flirt with you, it would take everything in him not to kill them then and there.

Obi-wan was aware of your relationship with Anakin and knew it wasn’t just some childhood nostalgic friendship. He knew, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴. So when he went to Mustafar to stop him, he brought you.

You, scared and confused out of your mind, stayed on the ship until he and Obi-wan had finished fighting. When your heard the silence you ran out spotting him.

“Ani?” You wept tears falling down your tanned cheeks.

“Sweetheart what are you doing here?” He asked pulling your smaller body into his and wrapping his big arms around your little waist.

“Obi-wan brought me. W-Where is he” She cried clinging onto him.

“He had betrayed us. He’s to weak to understand my power. I have defeated the emperor, I know how the power to rule” he smiled menacingly placing your little head in his hands.

“Y-You’re gonna rule the galaxy?” You asked shocked.

“Me and you, side by side. I can finally treat you like the queen you are. I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Do you understand sweetheart?” He said pulling you closer to him, if it were at all possible.

You nodded slowly taking in the information. “Y-You’d never hurt anyone, right Ani?” You asked innocently, leaning your head on his chest, the days events slightly tiring you out as your eyes grew heavy.

“Princess, the only time I’d ever hurt anyone is if they were hurting you. You understand that’s why’d I’d do it right?” He lied, knowing you’d believe him. He had to, you belonged next to him.

“I understand ani” you barely whispered, as you leant your body weight against him, feeling sleep wash over you.

“You must be so tired sweetheart, let’s go back to the ship, you need rest” he lovingly told you, but you were barely conscious at this stage. He picked you up  bridal style and you leant your head on his shoulder drifting off.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

Here you were, one month later since that night. Anakin was right, he took care of you, treated you like a princess. You and hun ruled the galaxy, the emperor and his empress.

You were sat in his lap, your little head leaning against his chest as he explained his orders to his men in front of him.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be sitting on his lap while he worked, he told you it calmed him down.

As you leant your head on his big chest, you tried your best not to let your eyes close, feeling tiredness come over you.

You let your eyes wander around the room, trying to keep them open. You looked to the right, your body freezing when you saw a man, one of Anakins me staring at you, with a disgusting smirk on his face.

You didn’t know what to do, your body didn’t move an inch. Anakin frowned feeling the nerves radiating off of you.

He leant down and placed his hand over your face, before asking “what’s wrong baby?” With a deeply concerned expression.

“He’s staring at me ani…I don’t like it!” You whispered burying your small face in his chest to escape the man’s stare. Tears slowly fell down your cheeks.

All the men stopped talking and looked towards the two of you. They were waiting for the emperor to kill or torture someone. They had been warned their first day

Anakin looked up, glaring at the man with a look that cannot be explained. He picked you up, placing your head away from the men.

“If any of you leave this room before I get back I will kill you all” he said simply before turning and walking back to your shared headquarters.

Once arriving he placed you down into your big bed, leaning down and giving you a sweet kiss.

You willed your tears and looked up at him. “I’m sorry Ani I don’t know why I’m so emotional lately” you whispered staring at his hand you were holding.

“I think I know sweetheart but we’ll discuss it in the morning. Try to sleep and I’ll be back in a little while” he told you as he went to leave.

You gripped his hand that you had been holding, your big doe eyes looking up to his own dark ones

“Y-Your not gonna do something bad are you ani?” You whispered with a slight pout on your lips.

Anakij smirked at you innocent look. “I’m only gonna have a stern word with the men baby” he told you, tucking you into bed and kissing your forehead tenderly.

You nodded before sleep came over you, and you closed your eyes.

Anakin smiled contently before leaving the room, his smile turning to a glare as he made his way back to the meeting room.

When arriving he saw all his men standing with an extremely nervous look on their faces, two men holding the man who was looking at you earlier.

Anakin walked directly over to the men with a knife in his hand, plunging it into his chest.

“What did u tell you about looking at my wife. She’s mine!” He yelled out, his face scrunched up in anger.

Eventuallu he pulled out the knife from the man’s now lifeless body, letting it drop to the floor.

Anakin looked at the two guards near him.

“Clean up this mess. Let all of you see this as a warning, of what will happen to you if you so much as look at your empress” he spat, with pure rage in his tone.

He made his way back to your headquarters, changing into clothes without blood. He then climbed into bed with you.

“Ani? Is that you?” Your soft angelic voice said, as you turned over rubbing your eyes.

“Yeah it’s me baby, go back to sleep you tired yourself out today” Anakin said his hands going about both sides of your waist before pulling you up a little into his embrace.

You hummed burying your face into his neck

“Did you have a talk with the mean man” You asked, your voice laced with a little fear.

Anakin noticed this and frowned.

“Baby, you know I would have never let him hurt you. He’s dealt with, this won’t happen again” he softly told you, pulling you in closer trying to ease your worries.

“Ok ani” you said before you drifted back off to sleep, your mind now at ease.

⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ටᆼට⋆⋆ට

𝗔:𝗡:

𝗶 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗶𝗺 𝗴𝗼𝗻𝗻𝗮 𝗱𝗼 𝗮 𝗽𝘁 𝟮 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀!!

[agere-fics]

🍄 you're a little in the revenge of the sith era 🍄

caregiver!obi wan, babysitters!padmé and anakin (sfw agere)

my family and i are getting evicted, help us afford housing ➡️ ko-fi

you like to help him take care of his boo boos. bandaids and kisses on smaller boo boos. Nurse Little One when there's bigger boo boos

obi wan is so cuddly and sweet here, just completely all over you and obsessed with you. can't wait for jedi council meetings to end, observation trips, reports, literally anything. he's learned from anakin (although secretly) that having someone to come home to can be wonderful.

if you're an older kiddo, he loves showing you how to do some saber tricks with padawn training lightsabers. he always praises you and gently guides you to the right positions and posture.

you love to do his hair A LOT. clips in his beard, clips on his head, glitter literally everywhere. it's a good way for him to bond with you when he needs to rest.

you don't see anakin and padmé a lot but when you do, it's always soooo much fun!!

padmé loves to take you on nature walks, do your hair or dress you, take you swimming.

you and padmé love to feed the ducks fruits and veggies! you love pointing to them and shouting "duck! ducks!"

she'll ask you what colors they are, what sounds they make, and has you draw a pretty picture of the duckies you saw to give to obi wan!!

anakin absolutely loves rough housing with you, you're always safe and protected though, don't worry

you'll do fake lightsaber battles with anakin and he lets you win ajfhs

and when obi wan comes back, you immediately jump in his arms!! everyone else is forgotten, cause your cg is here!!

anakin and obi wan will hold your hands and swing you as you walk akdhs

obi wan let you pilot an aircraft once, once... never again akdjs

sometimes when everyone's together, there's lots of talk of war and politics and sometimes it means arguments. you hate them, it makes you cry. obi wan tries to shield you from it the best he can.

when all the bad stuff begins to happen, obi wan tells you everything in the most appropriate way he can. he tried his best to be reassuring and soft but a lot of raw emotions got in the way

obi wan keeps you away from the city. no matter your protests, he vows to keep you safe.

when he comes back, you become Nurse Kiddo again, tending to his wounds, giving forehead kisses cause obi is so sad :(

he tries to push you away but you don't take it one bit!! when yoda tells you obi wan's going to tatooine you immediately decide you're going, too.

you give forehead kisses and soft hugs to the babies, the twins, luke and leia.

on the trip to tatooine, you hold luke the whole way. everything else is so sad but luke is so silly and adorable! he helps a lot.

you both grieve and miss padmé and anakin. but luckily since you're together, it's not so bad.

[qalijahbydior]

ANAKIN SKYWALKER PEOPLE DIED (literally)

[tashs-stories]

The Truth Shines Through✨

Padmé Amidala × Twin!Sister!Reader × Anakin Skywalker

A/N: In this Emma and the galaxy doesn't know that Anakin is Darth Vader. The only people that knew were Padmé (obviously) and Obi Wan, and Anakin was never burned.

TW: Mentions of death and killing

---------------------

Emma stood motionless before the cold, unyielding statue of Padmé Amidala Naberrie, her trembling fingers brushing the smooth stone. The figure lay serene, as though merely in a deep slumber, her hands resting protectively over her rounded belly. To the untrained eye, it appeared a symbol of peace, but to those who had attended her funeral on that storm-laden day, it was a monument to tragedy—honoring a queen, a senator, a sister, and a woman who had fought for hope even as the galaxy crumbled around her.

The wind whispered through the garden, carrying the scent of rain-soaked grass. Emma’s breath hitched as she stared at the lifeless eyes of the statue, her heart weighed down by the unrelenting tide of guilt. Her Jedi robes hung heavily, soaked from her aimless wandering through the drenched paths of Naboo. But the rain was a distant sensation, unimportant in the face of the storm raging within.

Her voice, when it finally emerged, was fragile, barely a whisper. "Ever since we were kids, all I ever wanted was to protect you." Her fingers curled into trembling fists at her sides, nails biting into her palms. "But I failed. I wasn’t there when you needed me the most. I wasn’t there to save you… or Ani… or your baby."

Her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes shut, fighting the wave of emotion that threatened to engulf her. The words felt hollow, almost meaningless, against the overwhelming silence of the garden. Her knees buckled, and she knelt before the statue, her head bowed in anguish. "I thought we had more time," she whispered, her tears mingling with the rain. "I thought I’d have more chances to fix everything. To be there for you. To protect you, like I promised."

She looked up at the statue, her voice trembling with both sorrow and confusion. "Ani was supposed to keep you safe. He promised me that, Padmé. He swore to me he’d always protect you. And yet… now he’s gone too. He died fighting that monster, Vader. He fought to save you, to save your child, and he—" Her voice cracked, and she pressed her forehead to the base of the statue, her tears soaking into the stone. "He died a hero, and I wasn’t there to fight beside him. I wasn’t there to stop Vader from taking everything."

The words twisted inside her, and a shadow of bitterness seeped into her tone. "Vader." She spat the name like a curse, her voice turning cold, her grief mingling with simmering anger. "That monster took everything. He took Ani from us, Padmé. He took you. He took the future you fought so hard to protect." Her shoulders shook as she clenched her teeth, fury and despair battling for control. "I should have been there to stop him. To save you both. But I wasn’t. I failed."

The garden fell silent again, the rain the only sound as Emma’s whispers grew softer, raw with vulnerability. "You always believed in me, Padmé. You always said I was strong. But I’m not. I couldn’t protect you. I couldn’t protect Ani. I couldn’t even protect your child." Her breath hitched, and she buried her face in her hands, her tears pouring freely now. "I’m just a Jedi who was too late to save anyone."

She stayed there, kneeling in the rain, her grief spilling out into the quiet garden. The statue loomed above her, a silent testament to all that had been lost. Emma’s heart felt like it might shatter beneath the weight of her sorrow. She didn’t know how long she stayed there, whispering apologies and broken promises to the sister she had loved and lost. All she knew was the gaping hole left behind by the ones she couldn’t save.

The rain began to lighten, the steady downpour turning into a gentle drizzle. Yet Emma didn’t move. She remained there, kneeling in the damp grass, her hands resting limply on her lap. The ache in her chest refused to subside, and her mind replayed the memories she wished she could forget.

She remembered Padmé’s radiant smile the day she was crowned Queen of Naboo, a moment of pride tempered with a lingering sadness that her sister’s life had changed forever. She remembered the hurried, whispered conversations in hidden corners when Padmé became a senator, their stolen moments so fleeting. And she remembered the way Padmé’s face lit up when she spoke of Anakin—of the love they shared and the hope he gave her, even when the galaxy seemed to teeter on the edge of darkness.

But those memories were now tainted, overshadowed by the horror of what had happened. Emma could still hear the whispers of the Council, the rumors that had spread after the fall of the Republic. They spoke of Anakin’s death, of his final stand against Darth Vader, a Sith Lord who had emerged like a shadow to destroy everything in his path.

Anakin died a hero, they had said. A warrior who had tried to protect the galaxy from the Sith’s wrath. But no matter how noble his death seemed in the retellings, it did nothing to ease the pain in Emma’s heart.

She lifted her head slightly, her fingers brushing against the rain-soaked grass. "You must have been so scared, Padmé," she murmured. "And Ani… he must have fought with everything he had to save you. To save your baby." Her voice quivered as she spoke, and a fresh wave of tears blurred her vision. "If I had been there… if I had just arrived sooner, maybe I could’ve helped. Maybe I could’ve stopped Vader before it was too late."

Emma tilted her head back, staring up at the gray sky. The storm clouds mirrored the turmoil within her, swirling and shifting but never breaking apart. "I don’t even know if it matters anymore," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "You’re gone. He’s gone. The Republic is gone." She exhaled shakily, her breath visible in the cold air. "And I don’t know how to fix what’s left."

For a moment, she let her thoughts drift, her mind clinging to the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, something of Anakin still lingered—his kindness, his strength, the love he had shared with her sister. But the thought was fleeting, drowned out by the bitter truth.

As she knelt there, a sudden sound broke through the quiet—a soft rustling in the garden behind her. Emma tensed, her Jedi instincts sharpening as she rose to her feet, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her lightsaber.

"Who’s there?" she called out, her voice steady despite the storm raging inside her.

From the shadows of the trees, a cloaked figure emerged, their presence quiet but unmistakable. Emma’s heart leapt to her throat as she tried to make out their features, the dim light of the setting sun casting long shadows across their face.

"Emma," the figure said softly, their voice low and unfamiliar. "You’ve come home at last."

Emma’s grip on her lightsaber tightened, her eyes narrowing. "Who are you? What do you want?"

The figure stepped closer, their movements slow and deliberate. "I’ve come to pay my respects," they said, their gaze drifting toward the statue of Padmé. "To honor the sacrifices that were made… and to remind you that not all is lost."

Emma’s heart pounded as she took a step back, her mind racing with questions. "What do you mean?" she demanded. "Who are you talking about? What aren’t you telling me?"

The figure hesitated, their expression unreadable beneath the shadow of their hood. "Sometimes, the truth is not what it seems," they said cryptically. "And sometimes, those we mourn are closer than we realize."

Before Emma could respond, the figure turned and began to walk away, their form fading into the mist that had settled over the garden.

"Wait!" Emma called after them, her voice tinged with desperation. She took a step forward, but the figure was already gone, leaving her alone once more.

Her mind raced, the stranger’s words echoing in her ears. Could it be possible that Anakin’s story wasn’t as simple as the Council had claimed? That somewhere, buried beneath the weight of loss and betrayal, a sliver of hope remained?

Emma turned back to the statue, her fingers brushing its stone surface once more. "I don’t know what to believe anymore, Padmé," she whispered. "But if there’s even a chance…"

Her voice trailed off as she straightened, a new resolve forming within her. The path ahead was uncertain, shrouded in shadows and questions. But for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Emma felt the faintest flicker of purpose.

If there was still something—or someone—worth saving, she would find them. She owed that much to Padmé. To Anakin. To herself.

The rain had stopped by the time Emma left the garden, her steps slow and hesitant as she followed the path back toward the Naboo palace. The stranger’s cryptic words lingered in her mind, a puzzle she couldn’t piece together.

"Sometimes, the truth is not what it seems."

What did they mean? How could Anakin be closer than she realized? He was dead—killed by the Sith Lord Vader. The Council had been clear about that. Yet, something about the stranger’s tone unsettled her. It wasn’t just what they said; it was how they said it, as though they knew something she didn’t.

The wind brushed against her damp robes, carrying with it a strange, almost tangible feeling of unease. She paused at the edge of the garden, her senses tingling as though the Force itself was trying to warn her.

"Emma."

Her name, spoken softly but with unmistakable familiarity, froze her in place. She turned slowly, her hand instinctively reaching for her lightsaber. A figure stood in the shadows of the trees, partially hidden but unmistakably there. The voice wasn’t the stranger’s—it was deeper, steadier, and heartbreakingly familiar.

"Who’s there?" she asked, her voice firm despite the tightness in her chest.

The figure stepped forward, the moonlight illuminating their face. Emma’s breath caught in her throat, her heart slamming against her ribs.

"Anakin?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

The man standing before her looked exactly as she remembered him—strong, confident, and whole. There were no scars, no signs of injury, none of the burns the Council had described. His dark Jedi robes swayed lightly in the breeze, and his piercing yellow sith eyes locked onto hers with an intensity that made her knees weaken.

But something was wrong.

Emma’s hand remained on her lightsaber hilt, her instincts screaming at her even as her heart begged her to believe what she was seeing. "It can’t be you," she said, her voice trembling. "You’re… you’re supposed to be dead."

Anakin tilted his head slightly, a faint smile playing on his lips. "That’s what they told you, isn’t it?" he said, his tone calm but tinged with something she couldn’t quite place. "That I died fighting Darth Vader."

Emma’s breath quickened, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her weapon. "You did," she said, her voice firmer now. "The Council—"

"The Council lied," Anakin interrupted, his voice cold as the faint smile vanished. He took a step closer, and Emma instinctively stepped back, her lightsaber igniting with a sharp hiss.

"Stay where you are," she warned, the blue blade casting a faint glow across her face.

Anakin stopped, his expression unreadable. "You don’t need that, Emma," he said, his voice softening. "I’m not your enemy."

Emma’s heart twisted painfully at his words. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that her brother-in-law—the man she had admired and loved from afar—was standing before her, whole and unbroken. But the Force whispered warnings she couldn’t ignore, an undercurrent of darkness that surrounded him like a shroud.

"If you’re not my enemy," she said cautiously, her voice trembling, "then tell me the truth. How are you alive? And where have you been all this time?"

Anakin’s eyes flickered with something—pain, regret, or perhaps something darker. "I’ve been searching," he said simply. "For answers. For power. For a way to bring Padmé back."

Emma’s stomach churned at his words. "Padmé’s gone," she said, her voice breaking. "You can’t bring her back, Ani. You have to let her go."

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, the man she remembered seemed to crack, revealing something far colder beneath. "You don’t understand," he said, his voice sharp. "I could have saved her, Emma. I was so close, but they took her from me. He took her from me."

"Darth Vader," Emma said bitterly, her blade steady between them.

Anakin’s gaze darkened, a flicker of something sinister flashing across his features. "Darth Vader is what they call me now," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper.

The world seemed to tilt, the air sucked from Emma’s lungs as the realization hit her. Her lightsaber wavered in her hand, the glow reflecting the horror in her wide eyes. "No," she whispered, shaking her head. "That’s not true. That’s not possible."

Anakin—Vader—took another step forward, his voice gentle but unyielding. "It is true, Emma. I am Darth Vader. I always have been."

Emma stumbled back, her blade faltering as her mind raced to process the truth. The man she had loved, the man her sister had trusted with her life, wasn’t dead. He wasn’t a victim of Darth Vader. He was Darth Vader.

Tears streamed down her face as she struggled to find her voice. "You… you lied to us," she said, her voice shaking with both anger and heartbreak. "You betrayed her. You betrayed me."

Anakin’s expression softened, a glimmer of the man he used to be breaking through. "I did it for her," he said, his voice almost pleading. "For Padmé. For our child. Don’t you see, Emma? Everything I’ve done was for them."

"Then why are they gone?" she snapped, her lightsaber flaring brighter. "If you were trying to save them, why did they die?"

Anakin’s face twisted in anguish, and for a moment, he looked as though he might shatter under the weight of her words. But when he spoke again, his voice was calm, resolute.

"They didn’t have to die," he said. "If you join me, Emma, we can fix everything. We can bring them back. We can bring balance to the galaxy together."

Emma’s grip on her lightsaber tightened, her tears blurring her vision. "You’re not the man I loved," she said, her voice trembling. "You’re not Anakin Skywalker. You’re just… a shadow of what he used to be."

Anakin’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. "Then you leave me no choice," he said coldly.

The garden fell silent as Emma raised her blade, her heart breaking with every passing second. She had failed to protect Padmé, Anakin, and their child. And now, she would have to face the man she once loved—the man who had become her greatest enemy.

Please react in any way to let me know you enjoyed this story.

[luvthegame]

domestic hcs with padmé amidala!

warnings: none. just fluff hcs.

-padmé adores coffee, and she adores early mornings with you, before the bustling city of coruscant wakes up.

-whether you prefer coffee or tea in the morning, she’ll have it ready to go for you. she’s an early bird, already going over senatorial bills before you’re even awake.

-you however, are not an early bird. you wake up later than her, melting into her arms as soon as you get close. she peppers your face in kisses as you yawn.

-she likes when you’re sleepy, and she’ll tease you about it- “Look at you, sleepyhead.” she’ll giggle.

-when the handmaidens arrive to put her senate outfits together, you watch from the couch in awe at their skill.

-you and padmé spend late nights together, often spent in silence, each of you working on your respective assignments. the silence is comfortable, until it reaches the late hours of the night, when you know both of you should be asleep.

-you often find yourself dragging her to bed, and ending up a pillow for her highness.

-“I’m not tired, besides, this bill needs to be passed…”

-“sweetheart, come on. you’re exhausted.”

-after much convincing, you pull her into bed.

-padmé wraps her arms and legs around you, her long curls surrounding the two of you as you rest, and the cycle repeats.

[anakinaotc]

just found out what ‘fan fiction’ is… how do people write such filth?

[strawberriesforcait]

GUYS. GUYS. QUICK REMINDER THAT I WRITE FOR ANAKIN, PADMÉ, LUKE, LEIA AND REY!! PLS SEND REQUESTS I BEG IM SO HYPERFIXATED MY BLOG IS @angellieque

[ivorydragoness44]

Padmé Amidala x Reader: A Friend

Word Count: 572 Warnings: Angst, discussing family drama/incident, and Anakin may or may not be hiding under the desk the entire time. Summary: The Reader needs to talk to someone about something that upset them, so they go to their friend, Padmé.

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 Storming through the halls of the Senate offices, you had hoped to feel different. The familiar wall decor and overall atmosphere did little to curb your less than ideal mood. Rather than venturing to your own office, your legs lead you elsewhere.  The entry door hardly slid open before you began speaking. “Senator Amidala, please tell me you’re in here.” Your eyes frantically swept through the room.  “I’m here,” she said, walking over from behind her desk. “Is something wrong?”  The genuine concern she held made a part of you want to cry. It made you glad that she was more than just a fellow senator. She was a friend.  “It’s a personal matter, is that all right? If you’re not busy, I mean.”  She reached out to grab your hands, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m never too busy for you. Tell me what’s bothering you.”  “I had taken some time to see my family, and it was going well…until it took an unexpected turn. It felt…random, almost.”  Padmé nodded slowly, encouraging, and you continued.  “I’ll keep it brief. One family member, who I love dearly, began to play music and dance. All by themselves they did this without a care in the world. Even the other’s pet watched, nodding their head to the music, the energy. It was cute. Neither of us had seen that before and laughed.”  “That’s adorable,” she smiled.  “It was. But when they, not the pet, left the room with the music, my other older family member turned to me. They wanted me to dance, but I said ‘no’. Their demeanor completely changed, saying that they had seen me dance before with my friends—which was years ago and was a celebration. They said this as if delighted that they had caught me in a lie. They were trying to use that as incentive—leverage to make me dance. As if with their words, I had no choice. It was so strange. I didn’t—don’t like it.”  Padmé’s attentiveness and soft voice helped soothe you through your vent. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I know you had been looking forward to visiting them.”  You shrugged, “There are worse things.” You eyed her knowingly. “I’ll spare you my attempt of teaching accountability. Of how I feel as though I am only a source of information or entertainment for them. I mean—I’m not a dancing kowakian monkey lizard or something!”  Hands releasing yours, Padmé brought you into a warm hug. “Telling people what they don’t want to hear can be difficult. But it’s because we care—you care. And your feelings and how you wish to be treated—respected, matter too.” She leaned out of your embrace and looked directly into your eyes. There was so much compassion and understanding in her gaze that you wondered if there was an unspoken story hiding in there. “Thank you for trusting me with something so personal.”  You shared a smile. “Thank you for listening. It’s been gnawing at me for a while now. And as a friend…you said that I can come to you for anything.”  “I did, didn’t I?” She laughed with you until a faint thud sounded over from her desk.  Curiously, you looked over. You swore you heard a quiet curse. “Padmé,” you eyed her now stoic face with eyes that did not match, “is someone hiding under your desk?”

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Thank you so much for reading! This was actually my first Padmé insert reader and really any sort of fanfic with her. I honestly don’t know why. Either way, I hope you enjoyed it and have a great Star Wars Day! May the 4th be with you.

Also! If you are interested, I do take writing commissions, starting at $3

[disruptednaboo]

starter | timeline: 21 b.b.y | muses accepted: any. | age: 18+.

my character: Padmé Naberrie Amidala.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ﾟ. ﾟ. ﾟﾟ. ﾟ.｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.･ ───

Coruscant seemed utterly silent that night, the invisible streets in the sky were almost empty except for a few speeders going back home from work — or the Maker only knew where. Padmé sat right by the window, admiring the starry sight that brightened space, before standing slowly with a low sight that seemed useful enough to relief whatever was going on in her mind, a bit at least. “Is everything alright, Mistress Amidala?” Threepio’s voice broke through the silence, making the woman suddenly snap back to reality. With a gentle expression while her eyes spoke with uncertainty, she gazed at him before looking back outside the window. “Anakin had been acting distant lately. It worries me.” Padmé admitted softly, her features hardened slightly in turmoil. Anakin had always been secretive when it came to out his emotions — however, lately, it only seemed to worsen.

“Perhaps Master Anakin is simply too involved in his work, I am sure nothing serious had happened. Rest assured, Mistress Amidala.” the droid’s voice, somehow, held a reassuring tone to it, even through all the coding and inalive protocols. “Overthinking, you say?” Padmé’s head turned slightly to look back at C3-PO, her brows furrowed in confusion. “Tiredness, maybe. You should rest, Miss. Your pregnancy status needs sleep. With your permission,” the droid concluded, bending in a mechanical way before disappearing out of the bedroom with a funky walk. Padmé sighed once again, her figure slowly making steps to walk out the bedroom and into the wide balcony it had. The wind brushed through her curls gently as she bent over the railing, her chin in the palm of her hand.

[red-nightwing]

padmé amidala moodboard →

[pebblethestone]

Star Wars Master List

Main Master List

Anakin Skywalker;

Luke Skywalker;

Obi-Wan Kenobi;

Han Solo;

Darth Maul;

Ahsoka Tano;

Kylo Ren;

Qui-Gon Jinn;

Padmé Amidala;

The Mandalorian;

Rex;

[firesofmustafar]

did you see the latest article in the holonews? it claims that you and senator amidala may have done the deed in a speeder in the lower levels of corsucant. true, false, or exaggerated?

False. I’m celibate.

[deansbeer]

a forbidden attachment ⎯⎯ ANAKIN SKYWALKER.

⎯⎯ you have secretly loved anakin for years, but now he seems closer to senator amidala. fearing you will lose him to her and that he will only ever see you as a friend, you must decide whether to reveal your love for anakin or keep it hidden, regardless of the consequences.

YAP SESH! this writing piece is old, from probably a month ago or so? but i've been wanting to rewrite it. with that said, if it seems like you've seen it before somewhere that's why.

WARNING(S) angst | JEDI!READER | F!READER | forbidden love | jealousy | defiance of rules | emotional scenes | tension. ୨ৎ MATURE CONTENT!

୨ৎ HAYDEN'S LIBRARY.

you stood by the window in your quarters at the jedi temple, gazing out at the skyline of coruscant as the sun began to set. another day had gone by without anakin properly acknowledging how you felt about him. how long had you harbored these secret feelings for your best friend? ever since you were both padawans training under obi-wan after the sudden death of your master during the clone wars, you had developed a strong affection for anakin that went beyond friendship.

but he had always been oblivious to your subtle hints over the years. whenever you tried to flirt or get close to him, he seemed to interpret it as just platonic playfulness between friends. deep down, you knew attachment and romance were forbidden for jedi, which is probably why he never saw you as anything more than a sister. still, you couldn't help the way your heart fluttered whenever he smiled at you or the warmth that spread through your body during your rare embraces.

lately, anakin had been spending more and more time away from the temple with senator amidala. you tried to tell yourself it was just politics as usual between them, but a nagging jealousy stirred in your gut. the way he lit up whenever talking about padmé made you worry that perhaps his feelings for her had evolved beyond a professional relationship. you wanted so badly to confess how you felt to anakin, yet feared that your timing may be too late if he had already given his heart to another.

a knock at the door pulled you from your brooding thoughts. "come in," you called out, hoping it might be the one person you wanted to see. but to your slight disappointment, it was obi-wan who entered.

"master," you greeted him with a polite nod. 

"i was wondering if you've seen anakin this evening," said obi-wan. "he wasn't in his quarters."

you shook your head. "no, i haven't seen him since this morning. did you check the hangar? maybe he's tinkering with one of the speeders again."

obi-wan glanced thoughtfully out the window. "i have a feeling he might be with senator amidala. those two have been spending an unusual amount of time together lately."

his perceptive observation stung like a dagger. you dropped your gaze, not wanting obi-wan to see the hurt in your eyes. "perhaps he's seeking her counsel on a political matter," you suggested weakly.

"perhaps," obi-wan replied in an unconvinced tone.

a brief silence passed between you before he placed a comforting hand on your shoulder. "you care greatly for anakin, don't you?"

you looked up at obi-wan in surprise. have your feelings been so transparent? with a sigh, you decided there was no point trying to hide it anymore. "is it that obvious, master?"

he offered you a kind smile. "only to someone who knows you both very well. anakin is lucky to have your loyalty and affection."

"but he doesn't see me that way," you said sadly. "i think… his heart belongs to senator amidala now."

obi-wan considered this thoughtfully. "an attachment poses dangers for a jedi, as you well know. however..." he paused. "denying one's true feelings can be an even greater path to the dark side. perhaps it’s time you and anakin had an honest talk."

you knew he spoke wisdom, as he always did. steeling your nerves, you gave obi-wan a resolute nod. "thank you, master. i think you're right."

after he left, you grabbed your cloak and headed out into the gathering night. your feet carried you swiftly toward the senatorial apartments, hoping for some sign of where anakin might be. as you neared padmé's residence, you spotted a familiar tall figure emerging from the entrance.

"anakin!" you called out, hurrying over to him.

he turned with a surprised expression that melted into a smile upon recognizing you. "hey, what are you doing here?"

you gazed up meeting his eyes. "i was looking for you, actually. do you have a moment to talk?"

anakin seemed to sense the serious tone in your voice. "of course. is something wrong?"

gesturing to a nearby empty garden bench, you both sat facing each other. you took a deep breath, steeling your resolve. "anakin, we've been friends for such a long time. but i feel there's something important i've been hiding from you, and i can't do it anymore."

his blue eyes searched your face with concern. "you know you can tell me anything."

reaching out, you gently took his hands in yours. the contact sent a pleasant shiver through you, despite your nerves. "anakin, over the years my feelings for you have grown beyond just friendship. i care for you deeply." you swallowed hard, "i'm in love with you."

for a moment he went perfectly still, clearly caught off guard by your confession. you braced for his rejection, waiting for the inevitable letdown. but then his expression softened into something you hadn’t expected—fondness. 

"why did you never say anything before?" he asked quietly.

"i was afraid to lose your friendship if you didn't feel the same. and as jedi, we're forbidden from attachments..." your voice trailed off with uncertainty.

anakin squeezed your hands reassuringly. "i thought you only saw me as a brother. but the truth is...i've had feelings for you too for a long time."

your eyes widened in stunned disbelief. "really?"

a warm smile tugged at his lips. "really. i went to padmé tonight for advice because i wanted to find a way to tell you how i felt but was too afraid of being rejected."

joy and relief flooded through you in waves. leaning in, you rested your forehead against his, breathing him in with giddiness. anakin's arms circled your waist, holding you close.

in that perfect moment, nothing else existed but the two of you. for so long you had loved him in secret, never daring to dream he might love you in return. 

after a blissful minute, anakin drew back to gaze down at you tenderly. "the jedi code says we can't form attachments... but i can't deny what's in my heart any longer. i love you, y/n."

hearing those words from his lips was pure elation. you kissed him softly, pouring all your passion into the tender press of lips. anakin responded in kind, kissing you deeply and sweetly until you both had to pause for air. yet the kiss only spurred your desires higher, unleashing feelings you had bottled up for so long.

anakin cradled your face gently in his hands, resting his forehead against yours once more as you both caught your breath. "we'll have to keep this a secret from the jedi," he whispered, eyes full of longing and promise. "but i want to be with you. what do you say we try to make this work, no matter the difficulties?"

part of you knew hidden relationships went against the code and carrying on in secret would not be easy. but since when had rules and duty ever made you as happy as being in anakin's arms? you nodded, heart so full it could burst. "yes, my love, let's try. no one but us will ever have to know."

his answering smile was radiant, erasing any doubts. you both surrendered to the joy of your long-awaited love. unaware of the sacrifices and struggles you would face together to keep this bond hidden in plain sight of the jedi order.

from that night on, stolen moments between missions and rare passionate nights spent utterly intertwined became your secret tether to hold on amid the turbulence of war. any passerby would still see you as comrades, yet in private you explored a love so intense it threatened to consume you both with its FORBIDDEN BLISS.

[pasukiyo]

A PLACE IN THE SEA OF STARS

anakin skywalker x f!naberrie!reader word count: 10.4k (my longest yet... i'm so sorry) warnings: two idiots pining, pining, reader is padme's younger sister (whether biological or adopted is up to you), first time having sex, soft smut, angst synopsis: a life spent in padmé amidala's shadow and never once did she ever think she'd be envious of her sister. that is, until anakin skywalker walks his way into her life and she finds herself praying that one day, he'd look at her the way he does at padmé, that she'll be given a place in the sea of stars, that her destiny will include him.

read on ao3

 It came as no surprise that Anakin Skywalker would be enamored with her second-to-oldest sister.

 After a life spent behind Padmé Amidala’s shadow, she’d grown accustomed to it— being overlooked. But for once, just this once, she wished history wouldn’t repeat itself, wished the prophecy could be rewritten and for once, let it be her who was chosen, who was noticed. 

 But of course, it’s futile. 

 You can sink to your knees and pray to whatever higher being is in the sky but at the end of the day, there are millions of lost souls just like you doing the same. You can have faith, you can believe that someday you’ll be heard but with each silent day that passes, your voice still falls on deaf ears. 

 She’s done her time playing the fool who sinks to her knees and pleads with the night sky to find her a place in the sea of stars, so that she may fit in a constellation too. She’s been the statue who's been made to wait— and she’s started to crumble. 

 She remembers the day she started to pray like it was yesterday. It was the day she first met Anakin Skywalker, back when he was only a Padawan, still searching for his own place in the world. Her parents were restless then, having heard of the multiple assassination attempts on their dear second oldest daughter. Of course she was worried too, but she still could feel the guilt that settled into the marrow of her bones when she found herself pondering whether her parents would react the same way if it had been her life at stake instead. 

 She remembers helping her eldest sister, Sola, and her mother with dinner in preparation for the arrival of their sister Padmé and her Jedi escort. She’d been tasked with bringing a bowl of fruit to the table and she remembered nearly being trampled over by her nieces, Ryoo and Pooja, as they squeal Padmé’s name, sprinting for the door. 

 She remembers huffing, mumbling a curse in an alien language beneath her breath just as their guests step inside, looking up from where she leaned over the table, dropping the bowl down onto the surface. She remembers her breath catching in her throat when her gaze found a sea of blue that put the Naboo waters to shame. 

 Padmé’s lips curved into a grin as she exclaimed her sister’s name, circling the table to capture her in an embrace. Her sister wrapped her arms around her and her chin found Padmé’s shoulder as the blue that took her breath away crashed into her and she swore everything changed in that moment. 

 She remembers the first time Anakin Skywalker looked at her. It was a brief, friendly locking of the eyes but a fleeting moment for him felt like lightyears for her. His eyes were the blue of the water where the sun’s reflection gently ripples and warps. They were the blue of the sky after it rains and the sun begins to spill through the cracks of the wall of clouds. 

 She’s never understood what it meant to be speechless, for something to literally steal the breath away from her lungs. But from the moment her eyes met his, she began to understand. 

 “Anakin! This is my youngest sister,” Padmé announced, pulling away from their embrace. Her spine stiffened when her sister introduced her and she watched as his full, pink lips moved to form her name. His voice is like nails scraping against the itch she can’t reach on her back, his voice is like velvet she can swallow, deliciously soft and rich against her throat. 

 “It’s nice to meet you,” Anakin dipped his chin in greeting, the silly, little braid falling off his shoulder. She drained the lump that had formed in her throat, bowing her head. Her lips trembled and her breath was shaky as she prepared her salutations but her words fell dead on the tip of her tongue when Padmé’s squeal permeated the room. 

 “And my eldest sister Sola!”

 And just like that, all attention rolled away from her and onto her eldest sisters but she still watched him, heart beating against her chest. 

 And that was the moment she began to pray. 

 She prayed, even though the looks he’d given Padmé didn’t go unnoticed. The way he watched her, even when she wasn’t the one speaking, the way he’d soak in every word, every praise for her that fell past her parents’ mouths. The way he stared longingly at her sister when he was certain nobody was watching— and no one was, for their attentions were on Padmé, save for hers. 

 It was typical. 

 It should come as no surprise that everyone would worship the ground her sister— the former Queen, current Senator of Naboo— walked on. She’s not surprised that someone young and benign like him would fall in love with her sister— she’d only seen it happen more times than she ever really cared to count. 

 And she’d never really cared about all the suitors on their knees at Padmé’s feet before— they were her sister’s problems, not hers. She’d never even really envied her sister, at least in that sense. 

 But everything changed the moment Anakin stepped through the door. Everything changed the moment their eyes met, if only for the most fleeting of seconds. 

 So she prayed. 

 Inside the inner realms of her mind, she sinks to her knees and stares into the void above her, the stars that beamed down at her twinkling, almost as if they taunted her. She swallowed her pride, folding her hands together and raising them to her chin, brow dipping as she pleaded with the higher being in the sky to hear her cry. 

 “Please, hear me, Maker,” she whispered into her mind, externally staring at Anakin, internally losing her gaze amongst the stars as if the Maker himself would appear between them. “Hear my plea. Whatever destiny you’ve pre-written for me, please be sure it includes Anakin Skywalker.”

 She didn’t see Anakin Skywalker again for another year after that. 

 Apparently, being a Jedi means he’s constantly from place to place, but next time they do end up in the same place, it’s even more fleeting than the last. She was beginning to wonder if she would ever see him again, if she was foolish to continue hoping that he might notice her, that he might even love her. But she still remembers the way his eyes flickered in recognition when they caught hers across the courtyard of Theed Royal Palace. His hair was longer and he didn’t have that ridiculous braid or tiny ponytail on the back of his neck anymore. The Chancellor was speaking to him and another Jedi with umber hair and a matching beard, but his attention was on her. 

 He looked… darker. As if the years of war had finally begun taking its toll on him. But he’s still the same man he’s always been, still the same one she’s dreamed about. He even looked better.  

 They don’t get the chance to talk, only share knowing glances, as he was on duty and their paths unfortunately didn’t cross. But that gleaming in his eyes, the one that blazes with knowing is all the kindling in the pit of her belly needs to bloom, to blossom into a raging wildfire. 

 So, she prayed again. 

 “Maker,” she said into that night sky inside of her head. The stars shone brighter, as if to laugh at the foolish girl beneath them. She ignored them of course— because she truly believed that one day, she’d prove them wrong. “Please. Hear my plea. Let Anakin Skywalker see me again. Give me a place in your sea of stars and make sure it is in Anakin Skywalker’s orbit.”

 She doesn’t see him again for another two years. 

 But still, he lingers, just like a phantom weaving through every corner she passes, cloaked in shadow. She sees Anakin Skywalker everywhere she goes— in the lakes of shining waters out in the country, in the rain that falls on a dark, cloudy day, in the litany of stars that idle in the sky. 

 She sees him in her dreams, staring the way he did at Padmé. Only, in her dreams, his gaze finds her. Almost like he had that day in the courtyard, but in her dreams, his eyes would linger longer. 

 His voice calls out to her whenever she’s sleeping and it lingers in gooseflesh on her skin, frosting over her bones. She’ll open her eyes when he calls but she’s never truly awake. Alas, if dreaming is the only way she’ll see Anakin Skywalker again, she’d gladly succumb to her sleep and trick herself into believing it is real. 

 Except tonight, she does not think she can take it much longer. 

 “Anakin,” she whispers one day when she peels her eyelids open after he calls. She says his name like it’ll be the last time she ever will. That look is on his face again— the one she’s seen so many times directed at her in her dreams, she’s nearly forgotten it wasn’t meant for her in the first place. 

 She used to wake and long for sleep to come again, just so she could watch him look at her like that. 

 But three long years of waiting and foolishly praying to beings who do not hear have begun to rust the illusion she’s deluded herself into hopelessly believing in. Three long years of silence and she’s finally cracked. She is broken— she sees it now. She’s grown weary of hoping he’d be the one to fix her. 

 His lips curve to form a smile and for three years, she’s fooled herself into believing it could be for her— truly be for her, outside of her dreams. But to be forthright, she’s tired. She’s grown tired of pretending, tired of clinging onto the dying embers of mere memories of how a man looked at someone that wasn’t her— but rather her sister. She’s grown tired of hoping, waiting, praying that one day, he may wander back into her life and thread his way into the tapestry that her destiny’s been woven into.

 Tonight is the night she forfeits with her palms to the sky, tonight is the night she yields to the stars that have taunted her for far too long and admits her defeat. That they were right all along. Tonight is the night she blows away the ashes she’s desperately held so close to her chest and sealed away in secret urns inside for far too long. 

 Tonight is the night she lets go. 

 When she wakes the following morning, birds chirp outside her window. Sunlight spills into her room as it rises over the mountains across the lake and she yawns, stretching her arms over her head. Today is merry— it is the day her sister, Padmé Amidala, marries. 

 Today is merry but instead, she feels dread seep into the marrow of her bones. She’s happy for her sister, really, she is, but it serves only as a reminder that her time is ticking, and time has turned vexing. It serves as a reminder that she must make haste to find her own purpose, to find someone who will cherish her the way she’s spent many fortnights dreaming about. Sola’s already married and found her purpose, and Padmé’s had her entire life laid out before her since she was only fourteen years of age. 

 Sola, the wife and mother, Padmé, the Queen and then the Senator, and then there’s her. Unsure. Undecided. An ellipsis. 

 She’s envious. How could she not be? She’s envious that she’ll never be the perfect mother like Sola, envious that she’ll never live up to Padmé’s legacy, she’s even grown envious of the stars: they simply idle in the night sky but even their idleness has a purpose because their places have reason, to create constellations that in turn, tell stories. 

 She knows that after today, the pressure of fulfilling whatever destiny’s been written for her will only further suffocate her. She will suffocate beneath the weight of this pressure and she will be expected to continue breathing. She’s tried for so long to keep the air in her lungs but it’s so hard when with each day that passes by, the darkness grows more appealing. 

 She’s tried so hard to find the right path she’s supposed to take, but there are so many roads, so many choices and so many consequences. She’s afraid— and it’s why she’s allowed herself to hide in her sisters’ shadows for so long. But it feels so stifling now. 

 She sighs and blinks up to the terracotta ceiling. And then of course, dread wears her bones for an entirely different reason. Because it’s inevitable that she’s going to see Anakin Skywalker today. And things will be different. 

 It’s been lingering like an annoying, little insect since Padmé announced she’d invited her Jedi friends to the wedding, ever since she heard Anakin’s name being read off the list. Things were certain to change because he is but a mere guest, and not the groom. 

 It may have come as no surprise that Anakin would fall for her, but it certainly came as a shock that Padmé wouldn’t fall for him. 

 It makes her flesh blaze with a strange anger she’s not quite sure how to describe. How could her sister have something she so desperately wanted but not pursue it? How could she reject Anakin when he would willingly break and bend to her every whim? Why must her sister take his infatuation for granted— why could it not be given to her instead?

 She thinks it must be some cruel trick the Maker is playing on her, dangling Anakin in front of her like that, cursing him with an unrequited love when she was right there. She thinks it must be the Maker’s— damn him— cruel way of taunting her, as if the sneering stars had eyes, his eyes. Even if part of her is relieved Anakin is not marrying her sister, it still feels like a blaster wound to her chest, puncturing her skin and searing her insides. 

 She hears her name called from outside her room’s door and groans. 

 “What do you want?” She replies in displeasure as the door slides open. Her eldest sister, Sola, steps into the room and glowers at her youngest sister’s tone. 

 “Well, good morning sunshine,” Sola remarks and she rolls her eyes. Sola makes her way towards the bed, dropping a dress the color of fire onto the mattress. “Is there a reason for your ill-temper today?”

 She pushes herself to sit upright, wrinkling her nose at the dress as she takes a fistful of it in her hand. “Orange?” She scoffs, tossing it back down onto the bed. “I thought we were wearing blue?”

 Sola shrugs, plopping down onto the mattress. “Padmé changed her mind last minute,” she says. “I suppose if we wore blue, we’d mesh with the background, don’t you think?”

 She sighs and flops back down against her pillows, one arm folded over her stomach, the other folded behind her head. Sola pokes her forefinger against her knee and she grumbles, narrowing her eyes at the ceiling. 

 “Now, answer the question,” her oldest sister insists. “What’s the matter with you?”

 Her eyelids flutter closed and she wishes more than anything that she could simply wink out of existence. It’s not that she doesn’t want to be here for Padmé, she does, but she’s uncertain how she could possibly explain how she feels to Sola in a way she could understand. It’s exactly this that’s made her feel so alone all these years. 

 She’s never had someone who could understand her, really get her. She’s always been different from her sisters, even before marriage and coronations and political promotions. It’s something she’s certain her sisters have known, that even her parents must’ve known. She’s never been jovial and nurturing like Sola, or clever and independent like Padmé. She’s always preferred silence and privacy, and maybe that’s been her problem. But it’s all she knows, being alone. 

 Sola’s never spent years yearning for a boy who yearns for another, so she couldn’t possibly understand. She doesn’t think she could even make her understand. 

 She sighs, lolling her head to the side until her gaze finds Sola’s. 

 “Not looking forward to wearing that dress for the entire evening,” she says instead. Sola’s eyes roll and she leans over to pinch her calf beneath the covers. She hisses and swats her sister’s hand away as she clicks her tongue, moving out of the way. 

 “Oh come on, it’s not that bad,” Sola tries to reason. 

 “It’s hideous,” she deadpans. 

 Sola deflates with the acceptance of her defeat. She grabs her sister’s knee, giving it a shake. She glares at her older sister. 

 “Come on, that can’t be the only reason why you’re in such a foul mood,” Sola insists, her bottom lip rolling in a pout and she swears it’s almost comical how her eldest sister can act like such a child. It’s a wonder how she has children of her own. 

 She blinks at Sola as a sort of realization creeps onto her eldest sister’s face and she blinks, internally grimacing. For she knows that whatever is bound to come out of her sister’s mouth next is going to be completely and utterly wrong. 

 “I think I get it now,” Sola’s tone is softer, her face falling to match it. “You’re upset you’ll be the last of us to be married.”

 And there it is. 

 She internally cringes at just how wrong Sola is but she says nothing, further prompting her sister to lean forward, reaching for the hand that rests on her stomach. Her muscles stiffen when she takes it and she wills herself to stay still. It was better to let Sola say whatever she had to say than recoil and deny it— it’s not like she had any better excuse anyways. 

 “I know it can be tough,” she begins. “Feeling like you’re left out. Believe me, I had my fair share of it. I was so jealous of yours and Padmé’s relationship when you were younger because I was so much older, I felt like I just didn’t quite fit in with you two.”

 Her eyes finally meet Sola’s and she begins to see her eldest sister in a different light. All this time, she’s believed she’s the only one who’s felt this way— lost, left behind. While this isn’t quite the same context, she still feels her heart tremble in her chest for her sister, still feels like something’s shifted. It’s at least one thing they can understand each other on. 

 “But then, I found my husband. And then I had Ryoo and Pooja,” Sola continues. “And it was the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ve never been so happy in my life.”

 Sola’s grip tightens around her hand and she leans forward to place her other one on top. “I know it must seem hard, seeing as both Padmé and I are married— well, almost anyway.” Her lips curve into a soft, reassuring grin. “But you’ll find that same happiness one day. I just know it. So don’t fret, little sister.”

And there, she fears, is where her sister misses the plot. 

 She almost wants to laugh at how ridiculous this all sounds. She remains silent, however, and Sola gives the back of her hand one last reassuring pat before she lets go, sliding off of the mattress. 

 “Anyways, I’m going to breakfast. You should come too before all the blue waffles are gone.”

 She watches as her eldest sister slips out of the room, the door sliding closed behind her and she sighs, digging her knuckles into her closed eyelids until the galaxy shimmers before her. How could Sola have come so close to understanding her one minute only to read her so wrong the next?

 She doesn’t make any effort to get out of bed and in all honesty, she wishes she could simply stay here forever, or at least for the rest of the night. At least long enough that she doesn’t have to face Anakin Skywalker. 

 Because even though she’s already promised herself that she’d let him go, she wasn’t entirely certain she could hold true to her own word when she sees him again.

 The day goes by in a blur. In the blink of an eye, she’s wearing a satin dress in that deep orange she finds hideous beside Sola who stands beside Padmé. Padmé stands facing her husband-to-be, fingertips delicately placed in his palms as they recite their vows. 

 The sun paints the villa’s terrace with an orange glow and she watches it sink beneath the mountains across the lake from the corner of her eye. The sunlight looks like fire rippling in the gentle waves of the water below and she has to look away because she thinks of Anakin, how his eyes glimmer just the same. 

 She’s determined to keep her gaze away from the audience, however, because she knows he’s there, the incarnation of all she’s ever wanted, of all her bad ideas, of everything she cannot trust herself with in one. She searches the ground below, watches the way her dress ruffles with the breeze, like fire askew in the wind. 

 Padmé says something that makes the audience erupt in laughter and it startles her, so much that the hair on the back of her neck erects. When she flinches, she makes the mistake of blinking up— right into the eyes she’d been bound to avoid all night. 

 The world around Anakin Skywalker seems to stir until it’s all wet, blurry hues of orange, green, and white. Anakin is the only one she sees in high resolution— she can see every lock of wavy, dark blonde hair, every rippling wave in his irises, the scarlet line that slices just beside his right eye. She’d never seen this scar before— it must be new. 

 But what’s the most peculiar of all is that she meets his eyes— she meets his eyes. She’d blinked up to find he’d already been staring, already transfixed on her by the time their gazes met and his eyes had illuminated with that same knowing gleam she’d seen in them that day in the royal courtyard. 

 Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she is not in a dream. It’s both momentous and utterly devastating all the same.

 She isn’t quite sure whether to look away or not. This is what she's mooned over more times than her pride will allow her to admit. She’s dreamed this many nights, for Anakin Skywalker to simply look at her and now he is. Anakin Skywalker is looking at her and she should feel elated but instead she feels… conflicted. 

 Does her heart flutter in her chest? Sure. 

 Does her stomach twist itself into knots? Certainly. 

 She felt so confident just the night before when she threw her hands up in surrender to the black sky, admitting her defeat to the stars who spent many moons mocking her that she was done. She felt so confident that she was ready to move on, to let go of this desire she’s harbored for Anakin for so long. 

 With the simplest of looks, Anakin Skywalker has proven capable of crumpling the paper walls she’d placed around herself. She was left feeling feeble, exposed and any sense of courage she thought she had was now lost. 

 Because three years of waiting and praying to higher entities who did not hear her pleas could not cease overnight. Her attraction to Anakin Skywalker could not cease in hours. She thought she’d extinguished the last flames of her withering hope but, as it turns out, a single dying ember remained. It means a part of her still yearned for him. A part of her still burned for him. 

 She wonders now, that he’s still looking at her, what possibly goes on inside his head. Why does he look at her now? Why does he stare, why do his lips twitch before curving in a smile when their eyes meet, why do they irradiate the longer her gaze lingers on his? Why does he not look sad at the wedding of the woman he loves? Why does he not even look at Padmé?

 Her mind swirls like a tempest— churning with unhinged, vicious anguish. She has to look away before the acid that bubbles in her throat can come to fruition but she can’t, and Anakin seemingly can’t tear his gaze away from her either. It’s all the more sickening and earth-shattering nonetheless. Her heart swells and pounds in her chest, the border of her vision beginning to blur with the familiar sting of tears. Her head is aching and it’s all just too much— she needs an escape. 

 “I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

 She blinks away her emotion to the best of her ability, using the end of the ceremony as an excuse to look away as the crowd around her thunders with applause. Her mind is reeling and she feels like her head is spinning as she subconsciously claps her palms together, the sound muffled like water in her ears.  The watercolor around her stirs until it’s clear again and the entire world suddenly seems to move again— it’s her, this time, that’s in slow motion. 

 The cheering sounds like thunder, the applause like rain pelting against a window, and her mind begins to crumple, just like metal. She longs for escape, to flee and to be beside herself for the rest of the night. Padmé and her husband begin walking back down the aisle as their guests congratulate them, tossing flower petals into the air above them. She thinks that this is her chance to escape, she thinks everyone is distracted enough that no one will notice her leaving. 

 They never cared to notice her before anyways. 

 She begins to shuffle away but she doesn’t make it very far before her stomach lurches when someone clasps a hand around her wrist, tugging her forward. She snaps her head to the source to find her eldest sister, Sola, with her face illuminated by a grin. 

 “Come on!” Sola exclaims, dragging her down the aisle and back inside the villa. “It’s time to party!”

 Dread drains the blood from her cheeks but she’s given no time to protest before she’s being dragged down the aisle, right past Anakin Skywalker. She doesn’t dare look up but she feels him when she passes by, a mere brush of the arms, the feeling of his elbow brushing going just as fast as it came. 

 And it’s still enough to make liquid of her insides. 

 She drowns in a sea of people as she and Sola find Padmé, wrapped in their mother’s arms. She can hear her heart drum in her ears as Sola releases her hand to draw Padmé into an embrace, tears streaming down the apples of her cheeks. Everyone around her is so happy and she should be too— but she still feels like she’s beside the altar, caught in the trap Anakin has seemingly laid out for her. 

 A tear that’s been painfully dormant in her eye falls and she’s certain her distress shows on her face but it must be easily mistaken for tears of joy, because Padmé pulls away from Sola to turn to her, drawing her in for a hug. Her sister’s arms wrap around her body, a palm on her back, the other cupping the back of her head. Even Sola reaches forward to give her upper arm a reassuring squeeze, undoubtedly thinking back to the conversation they’d had earlier. 

 “Don’t cry for me, baby sister,” Padmé laughs tearfully beside her ear. She can feel Padmé’s smile against her shoulder. She pulls away and rubs her palms up and down the length of her arms. “I’m still the same Padmé I’ve always been.”

 She’s unable to reply— again, she’s misunderstood. But it’s her sister’s wedding day, she won’t burden her with her own confliction. So she swallows the boulder-sized lump in her throat, curving her lips just enough to form a tight-lipped smile. 

 “I’m just… happy for you,” she manages. Padmé cups her cheek and soothes the pad of her thumb over her skin before Ryoo and Pooja draw her attention away. Padmé’s hands fall from her arms and finally, she can breathe. 

 But even that is momentary. 

 “You make a perfectly fine bride if I do say so myself, Senator.”

 Her spine stiffens. She knows that voice. And she knows exactly who is near when she hears it. 

 Padmé laughs and tosses her hands. “Obi-Wan,” she greets him just like an old friend would, pulling him in for an embrace. “And little Ani.”

 How is it that she’s already seen him more tonight than she has in the past three years? She sees Anakin’s dark boots from the top of her vision, not daring to tear her gaze from the ground. 

 “Padmé,” Anakin’s deep, enriching voice sounds and rumbles deep in her belly. She shifts uncomfortably where she stands, desperate to flee. She thinks she can manage it now— Obi-Wan and Anakin are engrossed with Padmé now, right? 

 She begins to make her first attempt of escape, taking slow, careful steps to the side until her second effort crumbles when Anakin speaks her name. 

 Ice frosts over her spine and she’s no choice but to acknowledge the man she was so intent on avoiding the entire evening. Padmé and Obi-Wan are engrossed in their own conversation but Anakin’s gaze remains on her, eyes even sparkling when she finally meets them. 

 Her mouth is a desiccated oasis and her throat feels like a desert as it constricts painfully when she swallows. Still, she manages to breathe out, “Anakin.”

 It’s the first time she can ever recall having a true, proper conversation with him. The last time being when they said their goodbyes that very first time before he and Padmé left for the Lake Country. It’s confusing how this is everything she’s ever wanted yet, she feels an urge to push it all away. 

 Anakin clears his throat and his eyes flicker to his feet for a moment as if he could possibly be nervous before they find hers again. “You look good,” he says and her heart stops beating in her chest. “That dress is beautiful on you.”

 She thinks she could punch him. 

 Or kiss him. 

 She has to look away, or she may very well do the latter. 

 She wonders if this is some cruel, senseless joke the Maker is playing on her. She wonders if she’d upset him by unlatching herself from his hook and this is his way of reeling her back in. She hates that it has the potential to work. 

 “I…” she stammers and closes her lids frustratedly, willing air back into her lungs. She shakes her head— she cannot be here any longer. She may very well explode if she has to succumb to this torture for even a second more. “…thanks. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

 And then, she bolts. 

 She’s lost track of how long she’s been locked in her room, sitting in the window, staring at the moonlight that ripples in the water below. It was long enough for the chatter downstairs to quiet to murmurs until it finally ceased altogether. The villa is now quiet and suddenly, her room feels suffocating. 

 With a sigh, her feet meet the floor and she pushes away from the window seat, cupping her neck to roll it around her shoulders as she pads towards the door. It slides open and she slips through, making her way down the hallway leading towards the main foyer. Her dress flows behind her like flames in the wind, the satin cool against her legs as she walks. Fresh, night air greets her and she inhales, letting it flood her lungs as she saunters to the wide terrace ahead. 

 She stops at the stone arches of the railing and exhales, feeling the wind sift its fingers through her hair, breathing on her skin like a lover in the throes of passion. It caresses her neck and rolls down her back, leaving gooseflesh in its wake. 

 She’d spent many nights just like this one. Staring at the moon rippling through the water, at the stars that twinkle overhead, the sky that blackens behind them. She’d spent many nights praying, releasing her pleas into the air and letting it drift away with the breeze. 

 She does not pray this time. When she lifts her head to brave the dark that faces her, she merely asks why. 

 “Why, Maker,” she whispers beneath her breath. There’s an edge, a strain to her voice that stings her throat, that feels like daggers to her chest. “Why must you be so cruel? I have done everything, I have given you everything. Why wasn’t it enough? Why do you mock me now?”

 The stars overhead gleam as they cackle, sneering at the misfit below. “You’ll never have a place among us,” they seem to say. Tears well in her eyes and she drops her head, fingernails scraping the stone edge of the railing. She leans back on her heels and wills herself to breathe before a sob could wrack her body. 

 She feels lost and utterly alone, and she truly begins to feel like the weight of this prolonged pain has started to fall on top of her. She’s lost and alone and her entire world has started to crumble around her. And then she hears her name. 

 It’s like the call that haunts her every time she closes her eyes, the same velvety voice that caresses her ear every night when she lies down in bed. But it is not a ghostly whisper this time, because it is real. 

 Footsteps sound behind her and she further scratches her nails against the railing. 

 “I was wondering where you wandered off to,” Anakin remarks as he approaches and she can feel him beside her, like a whisper of shadow creeping along her skin. She rolls back onto the balls of her feet and stands straight, sniffing. 

 “Anakin,” she says, steadily, methodically. As if it took great effort to say it without stammering. She can see him out of her peripheral, dark blonde curls falling when he leans an elbow against the railing, tilting his head in an attempt to meet her eye. 

 She does not move. 

 “I was looking for you, you know,” he continues. “You must’ve found a good hiding spot.”

 She rolls her bottom lip between her teeth. “I was in my room,” she replies simply, a steely, monotone in her voice.

 Anakin inhales and hums. “Then it makes sense why I could not find you. I would never barge into a lady’s room.”

 It’s an attempt at humor but she feels anything but. She’s stuck between a rock and a hard place with seemingly no clear solution in sight. She could walk away. She should walk away. She shouldn't spend a single second more in Anakin Skywalker’s presence— she simply couldn’t trust herself to not betray her own vow. 

 Or she could stay. She could stay and once again succumb to the fool’s game she’s been playing. She could stay and let Anakin Skywalker tie another noose around her neck, allowing him to drag her along for another three years. 

 She knows what is right. She knows what she should do. 

 But she’s frozen. 

 She cannot move, cannot even bring her lips to move so she can speak. She instead wilts, like a rose who once stood beautifully now losing its color, shriveling in on herself until she inevitably withers away. 

 She can feel Anakin draw himself just an inch closer beside her, and he’s like a single drop of rain that’s enough to somewhat salvage the husk of who she once was. 

 “Why do you avoid me?” He asks and it’s a question so simply but so damn infuriating all the while. She’s been a volcano in dormancy up until this point, but there’s a rumbling deep within her, threatening to erupt. 

 “Why are you doing this?” She questions, snapping her head towards him, brows dipped and drawn. Anakin blinks and draws back, a dent forming between his own brows. 

 “Doing what?” He asks and that feeling of wanting to ram her fist into his face comes back. She turns to fully face him and he pushes off the railing, uncertainty warping his features. 

 “This,” she gestures between them. “Staring at me. Talking to me. As if we’ve spoken more than hellos and goodbyes to each other.”

 Anakin raises a brow, the one his scar pierces, and it warps with the movement. 

 She continues. “And then you have the audacity to tell me I look beautiful in this gods-awful dress just to spite me.” She is a volcano, no longer dormant, no longer overlooked. She is exploding and Anakin is unfortunate enough to be in her wake. 

 He shakes his head. “Spite you?” He repeats. She begins to pace, a hand on her hip, the other rubbing her chin. Anakin follows, exactly like a lost puppy. “I wasn’t— I would never—“

 “Don’t say you’d never,” she turns on him, sticking an accusatory finger in his face. He blinks from it back to her, that ocean in the irises of his eyes raging, lightning cracking in the sinkhole at its center. She drops her hand and it curls at her side, her fists two shaking balls of fury. Blood bites her cheeks and she thinks of all the times she’s imagined speaking with Anakin Skywalker, of being alone with him. 

 This certainly was not how she’d ever imagined the scenario playing out. 

 She inhales. “Don’t say you’d never do anything to spite me while you are actively using me to get over Padmé,” she exhales, braving the stormy sea in his eyes. The tide shifts and his manner does too and she believes she’s already cracked him. She thinks she’s already shattered the illusion he was trying to create, that she’s lifted the wool he’s tried to veil over her eyes.

 She thinks that he believes whatever game he was trying to play was over. 

 Anakin straightens. “You have no idea what you are talking about,” he says and she scoffs, backing away. 

 “Don’t I?” She retorts. “You don’t think I’ve noticed how you’ve always looked at her? How you’ve always loved her?” 

 It brings her great pain to merely mention it. Her palms wipe at her face as tears begin welling in her eyes again, her cheeks warm as she desperately tries to quell the beginnings of a sob that stutters through her chest. She realizes now that by keeping all of these emotions, these feelings she’s harbored for Anakin for so long bottled has made her restless, has made her tick like a time bomb. 

 And her time to detonate has come. 

 He says her name again and tries to step forward, reeling back when she steps away from him. His hand wrapped in a leather glove hovers in the air between them and he drops it with an exasperated sigh. 

 “Your sister means a great deal to me, yes,” he begins. “But it is not—“

 “My sister is the sole reason why you torment me!” She snaps. “And you have no right to use how I feel against me just because she does not love you back.”

 Her words are an arrow meant to strike, to pierce through his chest, his heart her target. Her words are meant to cut deep, to draw blood, to make him bleed just like she has everyday since they met. She thinks they will, she thinks her blows will etch deep, will even leave scars in their wake. Part of her longs to see that pained expression upon his face, just like the one she wears now. 

 But her arrow merely grazes, soaring past until it sinks in the shining waters below. 

 Anakin’s face shifts but it is not in the way she thought it would, not in the way she hoped it would. His brows dip and his eyes swarm with a pained sort of desperation she’s never seen before in someone. She certainly never expected to see it in someone like him. His chest rises and falls with his breaths as he steps forward again. She stands still, unable to move. She is stunned— Anakin Skywalker has surprised her. 

 “Padmé does not love me,” he admits. “I met her when I was only a child. The only girl I’d ever seen before her was my own mother. So, of course, I felt drawn to her.” Her jaw tightens and her lips fall together in a firm, thin line. Anakin’s brows knit closer together and there’s a flicker in his eyes that she swears looks like the predecessor to tears. 

 She doesn’t quite want to believe it. He could not cry. 

 “And I spent a decade pining, a decade praying that I’d one day see her again, a decade hoping she’d been counting down the days until she saw me again, just like I was.”

 She doesn’t believe what she’s hearing. It’s a reflection of her own story, her own foolish pining, her own foolish praying but not hers, but Anakin’s. Her heart stutters in her chest and she forgets to breathe, having to gasp to gather air back into her lungs. 

 She’s never once felt like she could be understood. She’s never once felt like anyone else could experience the inner turmoil she has, the seemingly fruitless yearning she has. 

 But she’s realizing now that that's not true. Not anymore, at least. Everything is changing right before her eyes. 

 “And then I did,” Anakin shakes his head, a humorless laugh leaving his lips. “And I felt nothing. But I tried. I tried to convince myself I loved her. But I just… didn’t.”

 Her brow furrows and Anakin’s gaze darkens as it finds hers. 

 “I spent a decade obsessing over someone I didn’t really know, and how could I? I was a child.” His eyes search hers, searching for something unbeknownst to her. But she lets him. “I didn’t know what love was. All I knew was infatuation. I didn’t know what it meant to truly feel seen, to truly feel drawn to someone.”

 Anakin pauses and she gets the feeling that whatever he says next will be calamitous. 

 “Until I saw you again, that day outside the palace.”

 Her lips tremble and her breath shudders, an icy chill frosting over her skin. To think he’s thought about her everyday since their eyes briefly met in the midst of a crowded courtyard was hard to believe yet, when she looks at Anakin Skywalker now, she sees the softening of his brow, the quiver in his lips, the honesty in his eyes. 

 She’s only ever imagined one look in his eyes. Desire. 

 But she looks at him now and finds an entire galaxy— there’s longing, there’s earnest, there’s optimism, there’s burning. As it turns out, living creatures are not black and white like she initially thought them to be. Anakin Skywalker is a complex creature, made of flesh and blood and of an intricacy she’d never stopped to consider before. 

 He’s even better than she’s imagined he’d be. 

 Every moment spent under the stars, praying that she’d one day have a place among them, that she one day would sit among them with purpose rather than in an ellipsis suddenly begins to feel like it wasn’t all for nothing after all. Every prayer she’s whispered into the night breeze with Anakin Skywalker’s name in it suddenly feels like they begin to matter, like they begin to come true. 

 Still, she is wary, and Anakin seems to recognize this caution. 

 He takes a step closer and he steals the breath from her chest, just like he had the first moment she saw him. Her fingers twitch, itching to find his, her palms tingling with the desire to feel his skin, her lips buzzing with yearning. She does not touch him, she does not kiss him, she does not do anything. She simply waits for the rest of his story to unfold and her brain aches with the hope that it will unravel into hers. 

 “I saw you that day at the palace to find you were already looking at me. That you were already seeing me,” he mutters, a little breathlessly. “It may have been for… for only a moment but when you looked at me, I felt…” he trails off, a furrow in his brow as he searches for the correct word. “…I felt… like something shifted.”

 She watches as he rolls his lips together, watches as the moonlight catches how they glisten with spittle. Her breath catches a little bit, her gaze lingering there, her desire to lap it all up flaring. 

 “It felt like there was a string there between us I’d never noticed before,” he continues. “There was a connection I’d never realized until the moment our eyes met. I felt you, and I felt you see me. There hasn’t been a day that’s passed by since where I didn’t feel you, where I didn’t feel like we were connected, like we were two stars written in the same constellation.”

 Her chest rises and falls to the erratic beating of her heart as Anakin draws nearer, the hand with his glove meeting her cheek with a tenderness she’d felt from no one before. She’d never realized how starved of touch she’s been until now and it feels so invigorating. Her stare drops to his lips and she feels that string Anakin must’ve been talking about, feels it drawing her closer into his mouth. 

 “Padmé does not love me back, and I do not care,” he says in just above a whisper, his voice rising and falling in a way that jellifies her knees, that makes liquid of her insides. “Because I am burning– foolishly, maybe, yes– for you.”

 She inhales sharply and it truly feels like all her prayers are finally being answered, like she’s being inducted into her rightful place in the sea of stars. And in her constellation, Anakin Skywalker resides too. 

 She reaches up with a hand to hold the crook of his elbow that’s strung between them as he brings his other, ungloved hand to rest on her other cheek. She feels his skin on her cheek as the pad of his thumb soothes over the warmth of her flesh and her body quakes with shivers that roll down her spine all the way to her toes. He begins to lean in, his breath hot where it fans against her skin but she tilts backwards, just enough for him to halt, a quirk in one of his brows. 

 “I will not let you settle for me, Anakin Skywalker,” she whispers, admitting that insecurity still lingers, despite his words. Anakin’s eyes narrow as he uses his hands on either sides of her face to draw her in, his lips but a mere whisper away from hers when he murmurs, “settle? This is not settling. This is binding.”

 Then, his lips are on hers in an electrifying bind that shatters her spine with cracks of lightning and she falls into him, her hands on either of his forearms to keep herself steady. 

 Anakin kisses her with an ardor she could never even dream up in all of her wildest of fantasies. He kisses her and she feels like she finally fits in her dress, as it is the color of fire and she’s engulfed in flames. He kisses her and he is the flame that lights her candle, the flame that melts her from the center, that makes heat course through her that washes all the way down to her toes. He kisses her and she is melting, right into him. 

 His tongue pirouettes over hers and she hums into his mouth, feeling his fingers thread through her hair. Her heart is pounding and her lips are buzzing but all she feels is Anakin, she feels the muscles in his arms, the warmth that radiates off his body and spills into her. She feels the push and pull of the passion, the yearning he’s kept inside all this time. She feels her own longing and fervor pour into him and they are floating, two clouds that collide into one another to become one. 

 Anakin steps forward and steps backwards until she hits a wall. When they pull away for breath, she realizes he’s backed her into one of the pillars, a vine caught in the hair on the back of her head. Their chests heave with the weight of their breaths and she watches as Anakin’s hand, not the gloved one, but the one with skin rises, following it as it reaches for her neck. She shudders when he touches her collarbone, exposed from the side of the fiery satin of her dress. His fingertips sear her skin as it drags to the neck of her dress, following the satin where it wraps around her throat, all the way to the back of her neck where the lace falls. 

 Her breath catches when his fingers find the small strings keeping her dress together. Her gaze finds his again to find he’s already staring, a narrow, earnest look upon his face that darkens his eyes and hardens his features. There is a silent question that hangs in the air between them: “do you want to stop?”

 Maybe they’re moving too fast. Maybe this is crazy, maybe they’re simply caught up in the moment, high off the feeling of burning for someone who burns for them too. But after years of pining, of waiting, of praying, it only feels right. 

 But still, she asks, “what if someone sees? Someone like Obi-Wan who can get you in trouble?”

 Anakin shakes his head, “they won’t. Now, I don’t want to talk about Obi-Wan. Do you want to stop?”

 The shake of her head is all Anakin needs to see before he unlaces the strings holding her dress together, the satin falling like a spark blazing down the frayed edges of a rope until it pools at her elbows. Her breasts spill from the dress and the night’s ghostly whisper chills her skin, peaking her nipples. 

 Anakin’s eyes devour and she is prey. 

 His stare pierces through her skin to the marrow of her bones that catch a chill and she quakes. He meets her eyes again as his hands drift lower, dipping until they finally find her chest. A sharp gasp escapes when his palms cup either of her breasts and she arches into his touch, already aching for more. 

 “Anakin!” She gasps in a breathy exclaim when he dips his chin to press a kiss over the top of one of her breasts, heat blossoming in his lips’ wake. His eyes catch her again, a little warily. “Is this okay?” He asks, his voice low and gravely, scratching the itch in her brain she didn’t even know she had. It makes her knees feel weak and if it hadn’t been for his body pressed up against hers, she would’ve crumpled straight to the ground. 

 “Yes,” she breathes, chest heaving into his palms. “I’m sorry, I’ve just… never…”

 Anakin’s lips curve and she can see a flash of white peek between them. He shakes his head. “Me neither,” he admits with a breathy laugh and she titters too, grateful for the fact that she’s not the only one who’s a little green. 

 “Can I keep going?” He questions and his voice is liquid desire, melting straight down to her core. She swallows the lump that’s formed in her throat, nodding. “Please,” she adds, feeling her heart beat straight into his palm. 

 Anakin’s head dips again and she watches, cheeks warm as he places an open-mouthed kiss just above her nipple. His palm kneads the other breast as his lips venture just an inch lower, finding the peaked bud that awaits, suckling it into his mouth. 

 It’s like electricity flooding through her veins. 

 She throws her head back, lips falling agape as her eyelids snap closed, soaking in the pleasure of Anakin’s lips on her nipple. He cautiously flicks his tongue against the bud, watching through his lids as a moan falls from her lips, encouraging him to do it again. He flattens his tongue against her nipple and licks a long, fat stripe from the underside of it up, feeling her tremble in his arms. He lets go of her breast with a wet pop, trailing kisses through the valley between them to make his way to the other. 

 Touching him, feeling him, kissing him is somehow even better than she’d ever imagined, even after all those years of dreaming for moments like this. She can’t believe she’s gone so long without feeling him like this, she doesn’t think she can ever stop touching him. 

 Anakin suckles on her breast, flicking his tongue against her nipple as his hand not wrapped in a glove ventures down her body, past her waist, down her hip. He pulls the satin material of her dress up until his arm can sneak his way beneath it and she shivers when his fingers find her center over her underwear. Her nails dig into his sleeves above his shoulders, holding her breath as he finds the wet spot in her underwear, gently pressing against it. 

 Her hands tighten on his shoulders and ceases all movement, peering up at her. “You’re wet,” he says rather matter-of-factly because of course she is, how could she not be? She nods down at him, swallowing thick layers of saliva down her throat. “Can I touch you here?” He asks and his voice drops to that silky, velvety tone that makes her core ache. She presses her lips together to stifle her groan, head vigorously nodding up and down. 

 “Gods yes, Anakin,” she moans, slowly rocking her hips against his finger. “Please.”

 She feels filthy in a way for asking, for needing friction so desperately. She’s only ever taken her own fingers when she’s too lost in pleasure at night to sleep, never been touched by anyone else but it’s all she craves now, for Anakin’s fingers to touch her, for him— whatever part it may be— to be inside her. 

 A flame had been ignited in the pit of her belly long ago, back when Anakin first stepped through the door the day they met. It’s sat stagnant for too long, waiting for its moment to further bloom and now it has. It blossomed when her eyes met Anakin’s that day in the courtyard but it’s now in full bloom, now that they burn together, now that his kisses have seared her skin, now that his fingers are pulling her underwear down her thighs, just enough that he can reach her center. 

 When his fingertips brush her clit, she bursts. 

 Anakin’s arm wraps around her waist as she practically collapses into him, his middle finger drawing circles against her clit, his breath hot as his lips rest on her brow. 

 “Is this good?” He asks against her forehead. “Do you feel good?” He questions again as he adds his forefinger to the mix, applying just a little more pressure and it makes her eyes roll. 

 “Yes, just… just don’t stop,” she exhales, feeling her stomach twist itself into a knot, his fingers against her clit threatening to pull it undone any moment. 

 So he doesn’t. 

 He’s unrelenting in the way his fingers press to the aching bud in her center, tracing tight circles until her eyes squeeze closed so hard, milky-ways shimmer behind her lids. He dares venture lower, gathering her slick on the pads of his fingers as he teases near her entrance. It’s a foreign and strange feeling, it’s a pattern she’s traced many times with her own fingers but never been touched by someone else. Even in spite of how many nights she spent trekking that path wishing it was Anakin’s fingers instead, but it’s still strange feeling him there now. 

 She clutches his arm tighter and he slows, beginning to retract his hand. She stops him, lifting her head until their eyes meet again. 

 “No,” she pants, shaking her head. “Don’t stop, just… just take it slow.”

 He nods, his finger a little unsure as it circles her entrance, unintentionally teasing until she begins to crack. She’s panting, trying to wiggle her hips so that she can draw his fingers in, seeking that feeling of being full. Anakin dips his forefinger into her hole and she tosses her head back, her lips parting for an “oh” to emit. 

 He watches her face, even if she can’t see it, she can feel his gaze behind her closed lids. He is testing the waters, learning what makes her moan, what makes her squirm, what makes her come. Slowly, he sinks his finger further in and she feels every single millimeter that drags along her walls until he’s knuckle deep. Her legs feel like jelly and her knees begin to wobble, nails clinging to his sleeves like they were her lifeline. 

 Pressure builds in the pit of her belly as Anakin carefully retracts his finger, just to sink it back in again, a slow, cautious rhythm that leaves her mind spinning. His fingers are so much bigger than hers and she already feels so stuffed despite it only being one finger. Somehow, it’s too much and not enough at the same time. 

 “Ana… Anakin,” she gasps, peeling open her lids to find he’s already looking. His finger slows but picks up its pace again when he realizes she’s not in any pain. “Another.”

 His brow dips and his head tilts in confusion, uncertain what she means. She gathers moisture on her lips, trying to speak through the pleasure-driven haze in her mind. 

 “Another finger. Please.”

 Their eyes lock and there’s a flicker in his, a hint of doubt. 

 “Are you su—“

 “Please.”

 So, Anakin gathers her lips with his and she mewls into his mouth when he presses his middle against his pointer, sinking them into her cunt until they reach as far as they can. She’s trembling against him but he keeps her upright, with his arm and with his lips. 

 Just one of Anakin’s fingers had made her feel stuffed but two of his fingers made her feel full to the brim. Her walls clench around his fingers and she gasps his name like the beginning of a prayer, pleading for more. 

 It’s a twist on the prayers she recites to the Maker every night. It’s rewriting her every broken hymn, transforming it into something entirely new. She moans Anakin’s name and his fingers turn it into a song so that she cries like a dove into the night. The Maker may have left her feeling broken, wasted, unimportant but Anakin has found her, patched her up, polished her until she’s brand new. 

 The tangle in her belly begins to rupture, slowly unraveling and so she pushes his arm away, his fingers sliding out of her cunt, her walls pulsing with the loss. They both pant and Anakin’s face hardens in question as his chest heaves. 

 “What is it?” He asks, searching her face. 

 She gathers air deep in her chest. “I want…” She trails off, her embarrassment washing over her cheeks in blood. Her gaze drops and Anakin tilts his head to find it again, their eyes locked. He says nothing, only the nod of his head encourages her to continue. “…I want more. I want… I want you to…”

 She purses her lips in frustration. For heaven’s sake, she’s talking to the man who just had his fingers inside of her mere moments ago. Why does she feel embarrassed now?

 She takes another deep breath, mustering the courage to tell what she truly wants. “…I want you to feel good too.”

 Something shifts in Anakin’s eyes. It could be easily mistaken as a trick of the light but she sees it, she feels it. Anakin is burning just the same as her, his pupils becoming a backdrop behind the fires of desire, and she burns within it. 

 She watches as Anakin’s hand sinks below the belt around his middle, all the way down to the waistband of his trousers beneath his dark tunic. She watches with her breath lodged at the base of her throat as he pulls down his pants, just enough for his cock to be set free and oh, it is just like her dreams but even better. 

 Nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of Anakin Skywalker’s cock. Not even the wildest of her dreams could ever capture the essence of the art of Anakin Skywalker. He is handcrafted by the gods themselves— he is the physical embodiment of masterpiece. 

 He steps forward and towers over her, his breath like smoke rolling over her face. She peers up at him, her chest heaving with the effort of breathing. His hands find either side of her face and she stops breathing altogether, wondering what he will do next. 

 Then, “put your arms here,” he whispers, guiding her arms over his shoulder. “And hold on.”

 She squeals when he drops his hands to the undersides of her thighs, lifting her off the ground so that her ankles lock behind his back. Her arms tighten around his neck as he presses her back against the pillar, his chest pressed into hers. She can feel his length as it’s squeezed between either of their bodies and her walls clench around nothing, practically sobbing to feel him inside. 

 For a moment, the world stills around them and it’s like when she sees him in the audience during Padmé’s wedding. The night stirs and blurs until it’s dark watercolor, but Anakin is what she sees in high resolution. It’s the perfect mirage— she and Anakin feel like two stars in the middle of the black abyss above, forming their own little constellation. 

 And when Anakin finally slides himself inside of her, she feels like her place in the sea of stars has been cemented. She finally feels like she’s where she belongs.

a/n; SO! MY LONGEST IMAGINE YET.... may or may not have gotten a bit carried away (more like a little too wordy...) BUT! i really hope some of you enjoy and i truly appreciate anyone who reads this all the way through. i know 10k words is a lot 😭 also i hope this doesn’t seem too insta-lovey… this idea just came to me in a dream so i wrote what I dreamt lol

💫 if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging or even leaving a reply to let me know! it means the world to me 🫶

TAGLIST

@your-nanas-house

@chaoticevilbakugo

@k1ttenmittonz

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⸻ ʙ ʀ ᴏ ᴋ ᴇ ɴ ⸻

Pairing: Yandere Anakin Skywalker x Fem Reader

Headcanon: What if his darling die?

Notes: English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

When you die, Anakin doesn’t simply lose you—he loses himself. The moment your life slips away, the galaxy itself seems to go silent, as if mourning alongside him. Everything he fought for, everything he dreamed of, collapses into ash. You were his light in the darkness, his anchor, and now, with you gone, there is nothing left but chaos.

Your death is something Anakin refuses to accept at first. His hands shake as he cradles your lifeless body, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he whispers your name over and over, as though the sound alone could bring you back.

“No,” he murmurs, his voice breaking as he presses his forehead to yours. “This isn’t real. It can’t be real. Wake up. Please, wake up!”

When the truth sets in, it’s like a physical blow. A scream tears from his throat—a raw, animalistic sound that echoes through the air. It’s a sound born of pure anguish, a howl that could shatter stars.

Anakin doesn’t let go of your body for hours—perhaps days. He refuses to leave you, refusing to let the reality of your absence settle in. He strokes your hair, brushes his lips against your forehead, and whispers promises he knows you can’t hear.

“I’ll fix this,” he vows, his voice trembling with desperation. “I’ll find a way. You’re not gone. You can’t be gone.”

His mind immediately turns to the Force, to the possibility of reversing death itself. He becomes consumed by the idea of bringing you back, no matter what it costs him. Memories of Palpatine’s whispers, of the Sith’s promises of power over life and death, resurface in his mind like a venomous snake.

Without you, the darkness within Anakin flourishes. He doesn’t care about right or wrong anymore—he only cares about you. The galaxy could burn to ashes, and he wouldn’t bat an eye if it meant holding you in his arms again.

He delves into forbidden knowledge, seeking answers that others fear to even contemplate. He becomes obsessed, pouring over ancient Sith holocrons, experimenting with powers that twist the Force into something unnatural. He’s willing to sacrifice anything—anyone—to bring you back. His moral compass shatters entirely, and those who stand in his way are met with unrelenting fury.

“Don’t lecture me about the Force,” he snarls at anyone who dares to question him. “If the Force won’t save her, then I’ll tear it apart and make it obey me.”

Anakin isolates himself completely. He pushes away everyone who once cared for him—Obi-Wan, Padmé, Ahsoka—because they don’t understand. They can’t understand. They call him insane, accuse him of losing his way, but he doesn’t care. To him, they’re all hypocrites who speak of compassion yet refuse to help him bring back the person who mattered most.

His obsession with you consumes every waking moment. He surrounds himself with reminders of you—your favorite things, holos of your smile, even the scent of your perfume lingering on your clothes. He talks to these remnants as if you’re still there, as if you’ll answer him any second now.

“I’m doing this for you,” he whispers into the void, his fingers brushing over a holo of you. “I’ll make it right. I’ll make you proud.”

If Anakin’s attempts to bring you back ultimately fail, he becomes a broken shell of himself. His once vibrant blue eyes grow dull, and every ounce of warmth and humanity he had left is snuffed out.

Your death becomes his defining moment—the catalyst that fully pushes him into the abyss. His grief morphs into rage, directed at the galaxy, the Force, and even himself. He blames everyone and everything for your loss, but deep down, he blames himself most of all.

He becomes more machine than man, emotionally and spiritually. The Anakin Skywalker you loved ceases to exist, replaced by a figure of cold, unyielding wrath. The only thing that keeps him moving is the memory of you—a haunting, bittersweet echo that never leaves his mind.

If, by some dark miracle, Anakin succeeds in bringing you back, it doesn’t end the way he imagines. Perhaps you return incomplete—your memories fragmented, your soul scarred. Or perhaps you fear him, seeing the monster he’s become in his efforts to defy nature itself.

Even then, he refuses to let you go. He clings to you, no matter what, convinced that this twisted reunion is better than losing you forever. “I did this for us,” he says, his voice trembling with both pride and desperation. “You’re back where you belong—where I need you.”

But even with you by his side, the shadow of what he did to bring you back hangs over him. It’s a hollow victory, one that will never truly heal the wound your death left behind.

Anakin is a man defined by love, and your death strips him of that love in the cruelest way imaginable. Whether it leads him to madness, darkness, or destruction, one thing is certain: he will never be the same. Your absence leaves a void so deep that not even the Force can fill it.

In the end, Anakin’s obsession with you becomes both his greatest strength and his ultimate downfall—a tragic testament to the love he couldn’t bear to lose.

𝒍𝒖𝒗-𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌 ☆ 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒖𝒔𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.