#skywalker imagine

[starlazergazer]

You Promised

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Request(s): Hello love! Could I request something with Anakin x reader where he’s out on a mission and gets hurt maybe knocked unconscious for a bit and when he wakes up he’s like “she’s gonna kill me for getting hurt” and when he gets back gets an earful but also lots of cuddles <3

Was recently watching Hunger Games Catching Fire idk if you’ve seen it but there’s this one scene where Peeta gets hurt then Katniss like freaks out and Finnick saves him and realizes shes in love with him and I was imaging that scenario with Anakin so maybe you could write something like Anakin getting hurt on a mission and oc freaking out thinking he’s gonna die and Obi-Wan or Rex can just tell 😭

Warning: Angst! A lot of descriptions of chest compressions. It has a super cute ending though I promise!

Word Count: 4k

A/N: I went ahead and combined two that were super similar so I hope that’s okay. I actually really like how this one turned out so please enjoy! As always let me know what you think love you guys!!

Obi-wan was on his knees.

That was the only thought that echoed in your head.

Obi-wan Kenobi, the general, the Jedi master, the great negotiator, member of the jedi council, was on his knees. Why was he on his knees?

Everything seemed to move in slow motion around you, every noise fading into the background as you tried to move forward, the very air seeming to fight against you as you did so.

Gloved hands clasped around your arms, holding you in place, a modulated voice you recognized registering in the back of your head but you didn’t pay attention to any of the words said.

Why was Obi-wan on his knees?

You tried still to push forward but those hands held you back, halted your every movement, white and blue armor entering your field of vision, trying to block your view.

“whats-“ you couldn’t even get your whole question out, weren’t really sure how to finish it.

You clawed at the armor before you, tried to use it to pull yourself forward, to Obi-wan, you had to get to Obi-wan.

“Kid you don’t want to go over there” Finally the voice broke through the haze, because that was Rex’s voice, his nickname for you. But why was Rex here?

“No I need to-“ you weren’t really sure what, you needed to get to Obi-wan, that was all you knew, that everything in your screamed that you had to get to Obi-wan.

“Let the general work” Rex’s voice was smooth, clam.

But Rex was supposed to be with Anakin, Rex was always with Anakin, Rex had Anakin’s back, Rex kept Anakin safe. So why was he here without him?

That was the first time you really processed the scene before you, the fact that there was a person over there with Obi-wan, a person Obi-wan was kneeling over, a person beneath Obi-wans interlaced hands, a person wearing all too familiar boots with their toes pointed to the sky.

Your gaze cut to Rex, as if you could get confirmation from the man’s helmet, as if he could tell you anything but what you already knew, as if he could fix everything.

“The general has him Y/N”

And somehow hearing him say your name made it worse. Because to him you weren’t Y/N you were general, jedi, kid, anything but the gravity that came with your name.

You like to think you’d decided then that you’d feel guilty about it later, but truly the action came without any forethought. Your hand came up with a mind of its own, your energy focusing just enough to give Rex a push through the force, not enough to hurt him but enough to get him out of your way, because right now you needed to get to Obi-wan.

You ran without checking on Rex, ran calling out Obi-wan’s name not missing how the general never halted his movements, and slid down across from him onto your knees not noticing the way loose gravel and glass cut into them as you did so.

Obi-wan was saying something to you, you acknowledged that, but your focus was planted on nothing but Anakin’s unconscious body beneath his hands.

He looked peaceful, too peaceful for the way his body moved beneath Obi-wan’s rough compressions.

“no no no no” it took you too long to realize it was you repeating those words, that your body was rocking back and forth softly, your hands balled up painfully in your hair, trying to do anything to ground yourself, to make yourself wake up, to give your brain anything it could latch to that would make sense.

Because it couldn’t be Anakin lying there without a heartbeat, it just couldn’t.

“Y/N” a shout of your name snapped you out of your stupor, your gaze snapping up to the Jedi master before you.

His eyes never once strayed from his hands on Anakin’s chest.

For the first time you took in the state of Obi-wan, noted the worry he tried to force down that was slipping through his eyes, the way his lips were parted with heavy breaths, the sweat that clung to his brow.

You’ve known Obi-wan for years, the man had been through more than most people experience in their lifetimes. He was a general in the republic’s army, a man regularly sent to the front lines to lead, the person you called to the table when you wanted to negotiate. Obi-wan Kenobi did not sweat.

“Obi” his name left your lips in a whisper, as a prayer, pleadingly.

The Jedi’s eyes cut up to meet yours briefly, his compressions never once halting “I know”

The man’s voice wasn’t scared, wasn’t broken, but it wasn’t calm either, it was just empty, hollow, the voice of a man who had cut himself off from everything, focusing on nothing but the task at hand.

It almost scared you more than anything else.

“No no he can’t he-“ you begged, who you were begging to you weren’t sure at this point “he promised he would be okay, he promised he would be careful, Obi-wan he can’t”

The words fell from your lips your mind barely attaching meaning to them as they passed.

“Rex” Obi-wan called without a second thought, paying you no mind as his attention shifted to the newly arrived reinforcements, a horde of clone troopers descending on the two of them completely blocking your view as Rex carefully pulled you back.

And you knew they were there to help, knew that Anakin should go with them, that if anyone could bring him back it was them.

But in this moment all you knew was you were being separated from him and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to see him again.

Desperately you screamed Anakin’s name over the crowd, watching as his body was hoisted by a few troopers and carried towards the nearest starship, ardently fighting against Rex’s hold as he kept you in place.

“No no Rex please I need to go with him” you begged the clone captain “please I can’t leave him alone he can’t be alone”

The captain did his best to calm you, softly shushing you, holding you in place until your movements started slow, your legs giving out from beneath you as the ramp to the starship that took Anakin ascended, effectively sealing him from you.

Rex followed you down to the ground, arms that had caged you into him softening to offer comfort instead as you watched the ship takeoff “Rex he can’t die he’s my-“ and you couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, chocking on the word friend. Cause that wasn’t quite right, that word wasn’t enough, and it seemed that only when faced with Anakin’s flatlined heart that you could admit that to yourself.

Fate was a cruel thing.

Rex’s hand made its way to your shoulder, giving it an affectionate squeeze as he rocked you back and forth softly “I know Y/N, I know”

-

The first feeling Anakin noted after waking was not pain but rather stiffness.

The bright lights assaulting his unacclimated eyes he could get over easily, but the way his own body fought against him from the moment he opened his eyes, the way it seemed to protest just his breathing, that got to him.

“Well hello there”

Three simple words and Anakin was calm, the tension in his body melting into the mattress beneath him as he took the time to take a deep breath and try and relax.

Obi-wan was here, and if Obi-wan was here then everything was okay, because no matter what shit he had gotten himself into, and over the years there had certainly been a good amount of it, as long as Obi-wan was by his side he knew he could get out of it.

“Where am I?”

His voice sounded weak to his own ears, his very vocal chords grating as he tried to speak, only then realizing how thirsty he was.

“medical unit” Obi-wan answered, coming to his bedside to help Anakin sit up, passing him a cup of water once he was sure he could handle it “I must say we’ve had a lot of close calls in our days my friend, let’s never get that close again”

Anakin just hummed in response, greedily gulping down water.

“What do you remember?”

Finishing the glass Anakin handed the empty vessel back to his master, taking a moment to rack his mind, trying to sort through a jumbled mess of memory. “we were on Corellia” he answered hesitantly “the separatists were attacking we were there with Y/N I think, she went off with her clone army and…” the words died on his tongue, the emptiness of the room hitting him for the first time. His wide panicked gaze met his masters and Obi-wan read his expression easily.

“she’s fine, she had to brief the council”

Anakin sagged back in relief, his breath taking a second to right itself once again “okay-okay good. She’s okay. She separated off and told me to be safe then I-“

“did the exact opposite” Obi-wan supplied with a half smirk, relishing the way that same panicked look grew once again on Anakin’s face in response.

“shit” Anakin swore under his breath, bringing the heels of his palms up to rub at his eyes.

“she’s been by your side since she got to Coruscant” Obi-wan replied, crossing his arms over his chest “had to threaten expelling her from the order just to get her to go give her debrief”

Anakin could only groan in response, his posture slumping further as he did so “scale of 1 to 10 how likely is she to kill me?”

Obi-wan chuckled in response “oh my dear padawan we surpassed double digits long ago”

“it was that bad huh?”

Obi-wan was silent for a moment, hand coming up to rake through his beard in response, a tired sigh escaping him before he spoke again “the first time she saw you since the moment you separated off was when I was giving you chest compressions-“

“Well I’m here now that’s got to be worth something right?” he tried, earning only a single brow raise in response.

Another heavy silence fell over the pair before Obi-wan broke it “After seeing her reaction to finding you like that I feel it is my duty as your master to warn you against forming attachments” Anakin nearly rolled his eyes at the same tired old speech, Obi-wan cutting in to continue speaking before he got the chance to do so “however, as a friend I will say you ever put that girl through something like that again and breaking the Jedi code will be the least of your worries”

Anakin nearly laughed in response, the smile dying on his lips once he brought his gaze up to meet Obi-wans and seeing the seriousness that those eyes held. All words clogging in his throat as he was only able to force up a measly “yes master” that at least seemed to placate him for the moment.

Obi-wan’s posture straightened suddenly, eyes cast towards the closed door as he sensed a presence Anakin had felt coming minutes ago. “I believe that is my que to leave”

Giving Anakin a small bow Obi-wan made his way towards the door, pausing when Anakin suddenly called out “Master…thank you”

Obi-wan smiled warmly in response “It’s good to see you breathing again Anakin. Do your best to keep it that way”

Opening the door Obi-wan paused just in the doorframe, conversing briefly with someone he knew to be you before disappearing.

The entryway to Anakin’s surprise remained empty, empty for long enough to make him worry.

Despite everything though your form crept through the doorway, seeming almost scared to see him.

And though Obi-wan had told him you were okay Anakin couldn’t relax fully until he finally was able to lay eyes on you.

You, however, stayed as tense as ever just inside the door, eyes wide and panicked, gaze pinning him to the spot.

Anakin was almost afraid to move beneath your gaze, afraid any wrong move would break the spell and have you yelling at him.

Cause maker he knew he deserved it but he just woke up, he was alive, and he thought seeing a frown on your face after everything would kill him all over again.

The stare down lasted a tense few seconds as you scanned each other, Anakin noting the bandages wrapped around your palms, the badly bandaged cut on your brow. Maker how many times has he told you to see a medical droid after an assignment instead of trying to do it yourself, some bacta and it would be gone in minutes and he wouldn’t have to stare at the physical reminder of his own failure to protect you, of your own vulnerability.

The two of you seemed to snap out of it at the same moment, finishing your physical examination of one another at the same moment, because as Anakin took a deep breath and started to push himself up you were bound across the room in a near sprint.

Your arms were around his neck within the next second, your body planted in his lap, your chest pushed flush against his. And every part of him hurt with it but he didn’t care for a second because you were in his arms and the only thought running through his mind was that he needed you closer, that no matter how hard he pulled you into him it wasn’t enough because he was alive and you were here and nothing else beyond that mattered.

Much to his displeasure you were pulling back much too quickly and he tried to fight it, tried to keep you against him, tried to seek comfort in your arms as long as possible. But then your palms were cupping his cheeks and all thoughts in his head ceased, your wide eyes were looking directly into his and Anakin could do nothing but freeze, your nose brushed against his and Anakin forgot how to breathe. Then your lips were against his and Anakin suddenly wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t actually died back there.

But Anakin had thought about this too many times to hesitate now, he kissed you back just as fiercely, just as hungrily, one hand coming to the back of your head, fingers threading themselves into your hair at the base of your neck as he pulled you into him, his other hand finding your waist and pulling, seeking out any sort of physical reminder that you were here, really here.

But there you went pulling back again, ending the kiss much too quickly for his liking. He tried to follow you back, tried to pull your lips back to his but you were too stubborn, why did you always have to be this stubborn?

Before his mind could even process what had happened, before he could even mourn to loss of your body against his, your hand was raised and Anakin felt a sharp sting on his cheek, a pain he was only 60% sure was new at this point.

He forced his eyes open only to be met with the anger in your eyes he had been expecting since you had walked into the room.

You were pulling back again, getting up from the bed to your feet, fingertips trailing down the sheets that separated his body from yours absentmindedly but leaving a trail of sparks in their wake for Anakin. He tried to reach for them but you were too quick pulling them back, coming up to stand alongside his bed.

He could acknowledge you were talking now, or rather ranting fit it better, but he was too busy trying to reach you, trying to pull you back down on top of him, too busy cursing his every ache and pain that kept him from standing up and following you.

“cannot believe you thought it was a good idea to go off on your own what were you thinking? No scratch that I knew what you were thinking and it was nothing-“

Your words vaguely registered in the back of his mind as you paced back and forth, scolding him. “you’re right, I’m sorry, come here” the words rushed out of his mouth as he tried to reach out to you again.

But you never even acknowledged that he had spoke, continuing your rant without a hiccup “you cannot keep doing this to me, to Obi-wan, to Rex, throwing yourself into every dangerous situation without any regard for your life-“

And all Anakin could focus on were your lips as you spoke. Was it just him or did they seem slightly pinker than before? Slightly swollen. A soft sheen on them from saliva, his saliva, maker how he wanted to add to it. He hummed non-committally to whatever you had just said.

You hadn’t even looked at him as you ranted, your eyes planted on your feet as you paced rapidly before his bed “you promised me you’d be careful and this is how you thought you would go about upholding that promise? Because I have news for you if you really thought that was a good plan-“

He hadn’t even gotten the chance to really enjoy himself, enjoy the feeling of your lips against his, the taste of you on his tongue. With every second that passed with you still all the way across the room he became less and less convinced that the kiss had really happened. At this point he didn’t really care if he had imagined the whole thing he was just desperate to recreate it.

His bed shook slightly as your hands came to rest on the foot of it and your eyes for the first time this entire rant connected with his and Anakin’s focus finally zeroed in, yours seeming to do the same, the both of you acknowledging in that moment you hadn’t listened to a single word the other had said in the past five minutes.

Another tense silence passed, each being unsure of what to say to the other, before a tear falling down your cheek broke it. “Ani I found you while Obi-wan was doing chest compressions, I only found you after you had died”

And for the first time the weight of his own stupid actions seemed to hit him. Because he could tell himself that he was doing it for you, or for Obi-wan, but truly Anakin hadn’t ever thought about what would happen after he made the decision to do something stupid. And here he was dealing with those consequences.

You were scared, you were scared and sad and Anakin had done that to you and he wasn’t sure he could forgive himself for that.

“Y/N please” he begged softly, one arm extended out to you.

And finally you listened to him, too slowly making your way back to his bedside, and Anakin wasted no time in wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling your head into his chest.

You went willingly, your arms wrapping around his torso, burying yourself into him with a relieved sigh as Anakin buried his nose in your hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“I’m so sorry Y/N” he whispered into your hair and for a second you didn’t respond, simply stayed in his arms, listened to the sound of his heart beat, reminded yourself he was really here, before replying, your voice muffled slightly by his shirt.

“You better be Skywalker”

And despite everything Anakin couldn’t help but chuckle at your threat, arms tightening slightly around you as he fondly kissed the top of your head once more.

“If I promised to be more careful would you kiss me again?”

It came out in a teasing tone but you froze at the question, your entire body tensing beneath his touch before slowly pulling back to better look at him, your eyes wide in panic “maker I kissed you”

“you did” he agreed eagerly, hand coming up to cup your cheek.

You brushed aside his hand without a thought, your panicked state leaving Anakin much too amused “I didn’t even ask you or warn you or tell you how I feel I just kissed you, maker Ani”

“And I’m asking you to do it again” he chuckled, hand wrapping around your wrist and giving it a small tug trying to pull you back into him.

“I could’ve ruined everything” you continued to rant, eyes unfocused as you spoke “We’ve known each other since we were nine and I just kissed you like that wasn’t going to change everything what was I thinking”

“I’m thinking if you don’t kiss me now my heart may stop…again”

Your response was immediate, one fist shooting out and connecting solidly to his shoulder causing the jedi to groan softly “Ani that’s not funny”

Nonetheless Anakin took advantage of the way you leaned forward slightly to hook one hand around the back of your neck and crash your lips sloppily into his, a happy groan escaping him once you had finally connected.

Yet again you were pulling back but Anakin learned from his mistakes, never letting you get far. “I want it on record this does not mean I condone you injuring yourself”

“You got it sweetheart” Anakin mumbled back without much thought, pulling you back into him to let your lips connect once again, relishing the few seconds you eagerly kissed him back before you pulled back once again.

“And you can’t just say whatever you think I want to hear just so I’ll kiss you”

“mhm sure whatever you want baby” he responded with a hum before pulling you in again, an exasperated groan escaping him when you once again pulled back too soon.

“I mean it you have to promise me Ani”

Anakin’s other hand came up to cup your check, gaze desperately seeking out yours as he held your head mere inches from his own “I promise you I will not put myself unnecessarily into danger going forward” and without giving you a chance to respond he was kissing you again, committing every second to memory as he threaded his fingers through your hair.

Your hands planted on his chest as you pulled back again, barely getting out your “and one more-“ before Anakin was responding with a simple “no” pulling you back into him, the Jedi’s desperation making you giggle against his lips as you happily kissed him back.

[qvnthesia]

Another You (.02)

an anakin skywalker/jedi consular!reader fic set during the clone wars

the pitch: best friends with anakin since he had joined the jedi order, you hadn’t expected to catch feelings for him, not that hard, at least. his intentions were clear — his heart already enraptured by the nubian senator, leaving you to ruminate about the prospect of letting go of not just him, but maybe everything. until another anakin shows up, and your — your universe’s anakin starts behaving strangely.

A/N: happy birthday, @kaizsche! i hope you enjoy this update!! a note to all readers — there’s no y/n here, the reader’s nickname for the fic is sky. happy reading!

part two— you're not helping.

word count: 7,042

part one | two (here) | ....

Simply put, Aayla Secura was enjoying this. Restraining herself with absolute failure from bursting into fits of laughter, Aayla watched as even the most experienced of Jedi masters drop their caf or just stare with their jaws dropped, t h u n d e r s t r u c k, at Anakin and his double — the long-haired Anakin — walking side-by-side with Master Kenobi being the only one who separated Anakin from thoroughly sizing up his copy, who simply viewed his new-found sights with a twinkling gaze and an even more unbothered attitude.

“Is it just me—” Aayla leans next to your figure, her eyes fixated on the live footage from the Jedi Temple’s security feed. “—or is our new guest having a wind machine around him? Because you humans could take some hair care tips from him.”

You scowl, elbows propped up on the desk, as you watch the footage behind your intertwined fingers held together as tightly as your frown.

“Relax, Sky,” Aayla props an elbow on your stiff shoulder, “He gives off a good vibe. And plus, he’s definitely more attractive than—”

“Aayla!”

The agile Twi’lek proves herself as one of the best the Jedi Order has to offer as she flicks on the live footage faster than your attempts to take it away from her.

“Mon amie, this is literally out of a holo drama!” she giggles, switching off the footage under your sharp gaze. “It’s a sign from the Force itself to take your leap and get your man, or in this case, one version of the man!”

“Aayla, he belongs to another universe—”

“And you’re saying you haven’t been attracted to him?”

You freeze, and Aayla smiles.

Twi’leks weren’t humans, but were sure as hell kriffing good with their senses, so Aayla knew you were lying, and how much she was going to enjoy the day ahead.

Maker, why did I go for this job?

You silenced your mind — there’s a member of the kriffing Jedi Council in the same room as you and you’d feel much more comfortable knowing Master Kenobi had a visual on his enemies rather than the six hundred scenarios of you and Anakin in your mind.

Instead, you focused on your datapad, tapping on six different squares as Anakin answered your questions.

“—Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight, aged twenty-one Galactic Standard. Commanding officer of the Five Hundred and First Legion—”

“Currently on leave,” Master Kenobi remarked, stroking his beard.

“Yeah, but still, Obi-Wan, come on—”

“You’re really Anakin?”

You perked up at Ahsoka’s voice, who munched on a ronto wrap while perched on one of the desks.

“Yes,” the long-haired Anakin hummed. You’ve lost count at how many times Ahsoka has asked the question, and you’re pretty sure Master Kenobi, Rex and Cody have the same question swimming their head since yesterday. It’s only the constant patience that has persevered through the Order’s new guest that sets a guilty fire ablaze within your body — and it’s definitely from the way his voice never even fluctuates, just stays the smooth baritone, lower than the usual. It’s the same tone that your Anakin’s voice always has when he woke up to you working again late in the night, or he just strolled into your quarters wearing nothing but shorts and pressed himself against your back, his toned frame somehow slotting perfectly against your edges.

“But…” she tilted her head, her lekku twitching. “You look so mature.”

“Snips!” barked Anakin, shooting a sharp scowl toward Master Kenobi’s hacking laughter. Ahsoka shrugged, stuffing herself with more of her ronto wrap. Anakin’s long-haired copy softly pressed his twitching lips together. He caught your lingering gaze, and spread his lips into a smile, one that crinkled the edges of his twinkling eyes.

“How long is this going to take again?”

You snapped to a stiff, attentive posture as Anakin cleared his throat.

Master Kenobi sighed again. “Anakin, you must be patient—”

“—farmboy here smells like weed—”

“Anakin!”

“He’s not wrong.”

Anakin and Master Kenobi’s bickering ceases.

“What do you mean?”

He turns to you, and you internally slap yourself for suddenly becoming his center of attention. Not such a bad idea, but then—

“Are you…” Master Kenobi finds his voice again, bringing you back to the room again. “Are you not a Jedi, Anakin?”

There’s a slight crack in Master Kenobi’s voice, one that propels Ahsoka to stand next to him. The long-haired Anakin surveys the both of them, eyes softly squinted deep in thought, possibly pondering on how to break this brand new piece of information to a suddenly very fragile-looking old man and a dispirited young teenager.

The long-haired Anakin exhales. “I’m Anakin Skywalker, aged twenty-one Galactic Standard. I left the Jedi Order after I turned nineteen, and I’m a farmer—well, part-time mechanic, on Naboo.”

Your eyes widen, exchanging a surprised glance with Aayla.

“Master Kenobi, are you sure none of us are high?”

“Padawan,” chastised the Jedi, his shock secured tightly behind his shields. “I apologise, Anakin—I mean—”

“It’s alright, Obi-Wan.”

The long-haired Anakin waved his hands, and Obi-Wan visibly stiffens at the use of his name by a version of Anakin he should know but he doesn’t.

“You did train me, but I…” he scratched the back of his head, showing all teeth with a gentle, sheepish smile. “Things happened, and I made the choice to leave.”

You swore he looked at you; you were always looking at Anakin for some maker-forsaken reason or the other.

“And the war?”

Anakin turns to Cody and Rex, their military etiquette all thrown out the window.

“What war?”

The floor practically shifts with a lurch from the Force.

“You… you don’t have a war? The Clone Wars?”

He turns to you, and the world melts away as you look up at him, datapad clutched to your chest as a shield from him and from your simmering desperation.

The long-haired Anakin — you should definitely give him a name aside from his long hair — has a piercing gaze, one your Anakin looked at you everytime you looked up at him, your chin pressed to his chest, his arms around your waist as his nose crinkled with every laugh shared between you two about the stupidity of the Separtists’ battle droids.

“From all that I’ve been privy to," he swallows, his sharp apple jutting out even more prominently that it did. “The galaxy isn’t having the, uh, Clone Wars. We do have clones, but they work with the Jedi and provide humanitarian aid.”

“Captain Rex and Commander Cody work under Obi-Wan, who took on a young Togruta as his new padawan after I left,” he turns once again to Ahsoka, smiling. “I’m not General Skywalker, I’m just… Anakin.”

You blink, unable to process him. A part of you pushes that there’s a complete liar standing before you, a shapeshifter sent here to trick the Republic and distract the Consular who’s coincidentally working to counter their latest planet-killing superweapon. But the Anakin before you is as real as yours. He’s had a different life that you can’t help but wonder if you’re there—

“Hypothetically speaking—” coughs Rex. “Can I sign up for multiversal travel?”

“Rex!”

“I don’t like this.”

“More than sand?”

Anakin rolls his eyes at Padmé, who gives him a laugh as she continues to type her latest proposal behind her desk.

His lithe legs propped upon the corner of her desk, Anakin crosses his arms together, replaying the exact moment where he felt your Force signature spring alive when his double looked at you.

He’d never elicited a similar reaction from you when he was there. All those moments holding you close, regaling you in his tales until you succumbed to sleep, feeling your heart against his and wishing it were just like this for eternity. It was torture having to stay away from you, to be called time and again to this siege and that battle when all he wanted was to wake up next to you and live the life that other people did when they loved each other in a way he had loved you since the two of you were sixteen.

He even felt embarrassed to voice this in front of the Chancellor, who had suspiciously kept on pestering him to great lengths to enquire about the reason for his distraction. Clearly, he’d been sloppy — even Obi-Wan had managed to pick up his emotions in the heat of the battle. He’d decided to stay away from the Temple, show his ‘interest’ in politics so that such a slip wouldn’t occur again though, that your position as a Jedi wouldn’t be compromised by his misery. Though, he thinks to himself, the emergence of his double from another dimension spelled trouble for him in both Basic and Huttese.

Damn father, he grumbled to himself.

“If you keep having that stupid, angry look on your face, I’m afraid Sabé would be more than happy to throw you out of my office.”

Anakin sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just—” he stood up from his seat, pacing. “She likes him more! That peaceful, farming version of me over… me.”

Padmé turned her attention away from the blue screen, sincere pity softly twisting her lips.

“And you’re here, out of all places.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’m just saying,” she shrugged, her smile growing wider. “It’s a sign.”

Anakin hesitated, his stomach roiling with anxiety.

“Are you sure I should—?”

“If you don’t, I will.”

Anakin laughs. Hope blooming bright in his chest, he gives his childhood friend a grateful nod, and races out of the office.

Having receiving enough complaints about ‘seeing double’ of a certain Anakin Skywalker, Master Yoda explicitly commanded you to serve as the long-haired Anakin’s tour guide for the day, remarking a day away from the Temple ought to make him comfortable in his new universe — and reduce Master Windu’s migraines. Since you concomittantly had to visit the Senate Archives for business, you decided your new guest would accompany you to the prompt excursion to the laughing stock that was the Galaxy’s governing body.

Both of you had been loaned a speeder by the Jedi Council, to which the long-haired Anakin simply pointed a slender finger to a sleek, open-roofed speeder glinting under the spotlight of Coruscant’s artificial weather.

"That looks better, wouldn’t you think?” he grinned.

Maker, let the Force lend its might to you today to calm your fluttering heart. He wasn’t just glowing with happiness, you knew very well he was playing with you, and you’d be a fool to deny it wasn’t a good look on him.

So, with a begrudging sigh, you agreed, and headed straight for Dex’s Diner — an establishment he seemed quite familiar with.

“Ani!” Dex roared proudly, sweeping you and him in a hug before you even had a chance to look around for empty seats. “Look at how you’ve grown,” he said appraisingly as he drew back, “And what’s with the hair, eh? All dressed up for a date?”

“This—no—” you fervently shook your head, cheeks ablaze. “No, this isn’t a date—”

You glared pointedly at the long-haired Anakin — Ani — who softly cocked his brow. He seemed to decide with himself for a moment, and then spread his lips in a cocksure grin, the exact same your Anakin had in those holo-videos labelled ‘Hero with No Fear’ racking up views all over the galaxy.

“Last time I remember—”

He snakes his arm around your waist and pulls you next to his toned frame.

“—I did get a yes.”

“That was fun.”

Your disagreements lose to the quick beat of your heart, and you stab the scoopful of ice cream in your hands as you walk through the senate hallways. Leaving aside the fact that the trip to the archives was a monumental failure as you’d expected, you’d come as close as falling to the dark side to melt into a pool of a miserable puddle of your love and embarrassment.

“You’ll figure it out.”

You look up at him, realising the two of you have come to a stop in the middle of your footsteps.

“Whatever the enemy is planning, I’m sure you’ll foil their plans. I know it.”

He smiles, licking the ice cream off the corner of his lips and jutting the spoon in the air as if it were his lightsaber.

The confidence in his voice makes you wonder if he knew you. Not you, but a version of you in his universe.

What were you to this version of Anakin? Were you what Anakin was in your universe? The ‘Heroine with No Fear,’ or ‘The Jedi with No Fear,’ even if there was no war in his galaxy. Were you an acclaimed Jedi or a nobody from the backwater planet you belonged to?

Were you even someone he liked? With the manner you currently struggled to contain the depth of admiration you harboured for your Anakin, being lovers seemed out of the question. Were you at least his friend? Or, you gulped to yourself as your heart sunk low, were you dead?

“Consular Jedi.”

Your voice perked up at the entourage making way towards you, led by—

“Chancellor Palpatine!”

You offered the old man a short bow, which he returned to you with an amicable smile. His eyes roved over—

“Anakin, my dear boy,” his visage extended over to Ani; he let out a chuckle. “I must have caught you by surprise, son.”

You looked over to Ani, who had dropped his ice cream and the little wooden spoon on the floor, the hem of the Chancellor’s robes trailing with tiny chocolate chips.

He looked like a deer caught in the spotlight, except only a fool would describe him as a prey. No, he looked like the commander that Anakin always had been — alert, sharp, observant, and most of all, protective of his loved ones and his duty.

“Are you alright, my boy?”

The Chancellor’s eyes darted between the two of you, and you cleared your throat, wrapping your arm around Ani’s right one, shielding it entirely by your billowing robes.

“We were just coming back from the archives, Chancellor,” you cleared your throat. Feeling Ani tighten his grip around your arm, you continued. “Anakin thought to offer an extra set of hands in my search for a solution to the Separatists’ rumoured advantage.”

“Ah, of course,” the man nodded, interwining his bony fingers one over the other hand. “I must not hinder you, I suppose—Anakin, my boy, do come for a visit, will you? You seem to be avoiding me, though I now understand why.”

He shot a fatherly wink at Ani, who only seemed to stiffen even further, his arms balling into tight, iron-rod fists.

“Of course,” Ani found his voice, steel replacing his usual gentleness. “It was lovely meeting you but I’m afraid we must be on our way—”

Before you could even hear the old man’s professional toodle-oo, Ani simply tugged you by your arm and walked past the entourage, his long strides taking you to the far end of the Senate’s circular hallways within a blink of your eye. Reaching a destination guarateeing privacy, he looked around.

“Anakin, what—WHOA!”

You let out a grunt as your back slammed against the durasteel walls. He looks down at you, an apology flashing in his eyes, but the steel in his voice stops your protests.

“What the kark is that man doing here?”

Your eyebrows shoot up into your forehead, “What?”

You look at him through the Force; his sun is now an eclipse, shadowed by the foreboding storm and thunder.

“Anakin,” you gulp softly, gathering your courage, “He’s the Supreme Chancellor, what—what are you—”

You pause, your mind backpedalling to the events in your office.

“Things happened, and I made the choice to leave.”

He shifts in his feet just as your eyes widen.

“Sky.”

His arms wrap around your trembling figure, but you never leave his gaze.

“Sky, listen to me, it’s okay—”

“Why…” you cut in, failing to sound calm. “Why did you leave the Order?”

“Because I fulfilled my destiny.”

The storm within him dissolves with a wave of the seas within him. Your glare demands answers; his chest puts strain on the fibres of his beige shirt as he exhales sharply.

"I discovered the Sith that had been plaguing the Jedi and the Republic. It was…”

He lets out a bitter chuckle, the corners of his lips downturned.

“It was so ingenious, the way he had been doing it. Getting close to me ever since I was a child, preying on my fears, my insecurities. Deluding me into thinking I was going to be alone forever simply because I was different than the others, that I was born of no father and only a loving mother, that I was a child of the Force itself and as such, the Jedi viewed me as a threat.”

“But what he hadn’t seen coming, what even I hadn’t expected to gain was that I began to have people on my side. People who trained me and taught me that the Dark is never the option to take, because it takes and it takes from you and leaves you wanting more, it leaves you empty, as a shell of who you were. It leaves you alone and no one to go to. And I had people… people who pulled me back—”

He meets your gaze, blown open and vulnerable.

“—people who made me see reason, that my mind was being tipped in a direction that was not of my own making, but of the Sith who I had allowed to poison my mind since I was a child. Sky…”

He intakes a sharp breath.

“I am the Chosen One just as your Anakin is. And I did it. I fulfilled my destiny and stopped the return of the Sith.”

Ani holds your hands, pressing your palm to his chest. A tremor passes through your body, and he steadies your figure, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“Please, you must believe me. I can sense you care deeply for my variant in this universe, and he is in grave danger, Sky.”

Your mind flashes back to one of Master Yoda’s classes, where he had droned in his wise way how the Force made itself known to warn its believers that life itself was in grave danger; it was a warning, a shadow, an event, something or the other that shook the defenders into of their senses and prompted them to act for the betterment of the survival of the Galaxy — and for your own good.

You had felt the Force the first time when Master Windu had arrived to your village years ago, offering his hand to enter the world of the Jedi. The Force had given a warm nudge for you to take his hand and take the chance; you had taken it.

You had felt the Force the second time when you met Anakin Skywalker, nine years old, young and shy, and terribly homesick for the embrace of his mother’s arms. The Force had giggled, and you had decided, fate or not, that you would bring a smile to his forlorn face.

You had felt the Force the third time when you were on Geonosis, standing the arena with your master, saber ignited as Anakin let out a joyous cheer, joining you back-to-back as you both tore through droid after droid in the relentless carnage. The Force, triumphant, had melded the two of you as one machine, as one competently-built Corellian freighter tearing apart the enemy.

The present moment is when you feel the Force again, screaming. You see death and blood, corpses of younglings and clone soldiers strewn on the floors of the Jedi Temple. But Anakin’s there, and you see hope, you see a future with laughing children and the galaxy, alive than you’ve ever felt it to be.

The Force holds its breath, and despite what the Jedi Code said, you’ve never chosen to ignore life.

You steel yourself and look up at him, determined.

“I believe you.”

His gaze widens, and the temperature around you shoots up, charged.

But it isn’t coming from the Anakin front of you, rather from a few feet away from the both of you.

You meet the dark look on your Anakin’s face, his armor glinting in the pale, sterile Coruscanti sunlight.

You haven’t even blinked, but he’s next to you in mere six steps, Ani’s hurling toward the ground, and you’re in Anakin’s arms, warm, cold, safe and scared.

“Anakin.”

He looks down at you, and he melts.

“It’s okay, he wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

You turn to Ani, who’s now on his feet, his stance as same as your Anakin.

“We need to leave,” he states to his armoured copy, stark.

“He’s right,” you turn back to Anakin, “We’re in danger, Anakin, the Chancellor is the Sith—”

“What?!”

He recoils, looking back and forth between him and you.

“Sky, he’s messing with you, don’t listen to him—”

“Are you serious?” scoffs Ani, balling his hands into tight fists.

“You’re the one to talk—”

The sky suddenly turns dark, lights blinking awake in the buildings outside. Clouds fog the tallest skyscrapers, crackling with blue lightning.

The floor beneath you trembles, and you look at the end of the hallway.

There’s a man in a dark robe that you could’ve mistaken for a statue. But his eyes are a burning yellow that remind you of the flames of your Master’s funeral pyre.

The hooded figure bristles, and you can feel his sickly smile on your skin, feel the two Anakins next to you tense as the cold finally settles on their shoulders.

The name shouldn’t click in your head, but it does.

“Sidious.”

Silence rings in your ears.

“On three,” whispers Ani.

His fingers grasp yours and, from the corner of your eyes, Anakin holds your left hand as delicate his shock and anger can allow his metal arm to be.

“One, two—”

You take toward the window. 

“—three.”

CRASH !

The air r i p s with a violent blue and purple, and glass tears at your clothes as the air whips at your face and you freefall against the cold steel and stabbing rain.

.

to be continued...

thank you so so much for reading! if you'd like to be added to the tag list, drop a comment below! 💗✨

cross-posted on AO3

part one | two (here) | ....

[temaranthis]

yknow how Obi-wan and Quinlan are really close friends and that probably means Aayla and Anakin have a weird sibling/cousin relationship. and that make way for some really funny stuff.

for example, the jedi got to pick battalion colors at the beginning of the war, and Aayla's blue right? so she's like, "hm, it'd be fun if i matched with my men right?", and she goes the next morning and find out that Anakin, the little shit, has already taken blue. He doesn't even like blue.

and thats my little headcanon about how the 501st ended up being painted blue.

[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

[ddejavvu]

can i request something with anakin that has to do with his force mind reading?? please and thank you :)

happy may the 4th! send me star wars requests/headcanons and we'll have a party <3

--

"You're mad at me." Anakin states, and it's not a question like it was last time, but there's still confusion present, so your anger burns steadily onwards.

You stay silent, and your teeth dig into your tongue.

"Come on, angel, tell me why." He pries, reaching for your elbow where it's bent stiffly at your side.

Strike one.

You pull away from the contact and scrub harder at the plate you're attempting to wash. The stain is stubbornly caked on and damn, you wish you'd splurged on a place with a dishwasher.

"Okay, okay, no touching." Anakin soothes, "But will you please at least talk to me? I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong."

Strike two.

"You do know what's wrong," You gripe, your voice an unwilling drawl. As soon as it's there it's gone, and Anakin is back to square one.

Anakin Skywalker doesn't do well with square one- he hurtles relentlessly towards bigger and better. He dips gently into your mind with the Force, and though you can feel the invasion of your privacy, there's not a thing you can do to stop it.

"Hey!" You protest, but he's already found what he needed, and he's wrapping you in a hug from behind that you couldn't shake off if you tried.

"I'm sorry I didn't get you dessert from Dex's." He croons, "Ahsoka wanted to stop by the nursery down the street to find a plant for Obi-Wan- you know she accidentally sliced his in half? Anyways, we left the diner in a hurry and I'm sorry you didn't get your sweets."

"Fine," You grumble, pointedly not fighting his touch anymore even though you're trying to maintain your grumpy facade, "If it was to help Ahsoka, then I don't mind."

"I should start bringing her around whenever you're mad at me," Anakin muses, pressing a cheeky kiss to the side of your face, "I'll never get in trouble again."

"I'm gonna tell her you told me you hated me last week!" You threaten, and Anakin groans.

"I did not say that!"

"You said you'd tinker with me if I were a droid."

"Because tinkering is what I do!"

"If I were a droid I should be perfect to you," You insist, "No tinkering needed."

"Yes dear," He secedes with an eye roll he hides into the side of your head, "No tinkering whatsoever. Even when your joints get rusty and your circuits wear out."

"Good." You nod, momentarily satisfied as you place the now-clean plate in its spot on the drying rack, "We're gonna get rusty and worn out together, Skywalker.”

[cillivnz]

RING-POP

PAIRING. sam monroe x f!reader

SYNOPSIS. sam makes you try a different version of your favorite candy; bigger and bitter.

WARNINGS. NSFW themes (18+), pet-names, cursing, dirty-talk & too many puns (i swear this punk cannot shut up), name-calling (brat, dumb girl), brat-taming, degradation, slight dacryphilia, perv!sam, clueless!reader, oral sex (m! receiving), face-fucking, bondage, slight slapping (with a belt, with his cock), hair-pulling, sexualising food?

SMACK, SLURP, POP. the sounds filled sam’s humid room. his brow furrowed further, a look of disdain washing over his pale features at the noise. the videogame in front of him needed all his heed, but it seemed like his brat, bambi, demanded some of that attention, too.

“stop that,” he groaned, frustrated. the sound of his thumbs assaulting the buttons on his controller should’ve been all that was heard, had you not been deep-throating the candy sam made the mistake of getting you. “what— i’m just having my candy,” you whined before continuing, “—and besides, if you have a problem, why don’t you let me sit away from you—” he was quick to shut down that idea, gripping the flesh of your thighs. maybe sam was in the wrong for getting you the cherry ring-pop, your favourite, and maybe it wasn’t the best idea to have you perched on his lap, sitting comfortably (cluelessly) on his aching boner, but in his defence, he just wanted to feast his eyes on the sight of your plump lips wrapped around the toy candy, sucking and slurping, just as you are now like the good girl you are, but once he switched his playstation on, the competitive side came out.

you shift to your comfort in his lap, feeling the tent in his pants poke directly into your mound. you had an arm crossed over sam’s neck, bringing the ring-clad finger to your mouth and sucking. at the taste of the sweet cherry juices dripping into your mouth, you groan in sam’s ear.

the sounds traveled straight to his cock, his mind tuning out his reality— the game at hand— just to focus at your skilful tongue, stained red by the candy. “if you don’t quit it—” he sighed, his voice strained. the next thing you know, his character is being obliterated by the enemy. you stifled a giggle, your plan worked.

sam had left you so, so worked up. choosing to take out his frustration with his family on some stupid toy, rather than your willing pussy. ever since that day at the playground, you couldn’t go a day without sam pounding into your drooling cunt. even if it was always him starting it, he got you to finish, and you were forever grateful for it. but today? when you dolled up in all black— tank top and skirt— with red lingerie, he decided to pick up that gaming console and not let go.

“alright, bambi, i’ve had it with you,” he gets up abruptly, causing you to hit the ground and land on your knees. you gasped, offended.

his hands, full of real, crude metal were quick to move, undoing his belt, unlike your delicate hand that was motionless with the toy ring perched on it. the leather of his studded belt flicked across your cheek, causing you to look up at sam through wet lashes. he only smirked at the sight. your eyes flicked to the bulge revealed in his boxers, and now your mouth watered for a taste that wasn’t cherry ring-pop.

“‘like to suck your candy, huh, brat?” he squeezed your cheeks together. “since you’ve been practising in my goddamn ears all day,” he continued, pulling out his cock, “let’s see how good you’ve gotten.” his cock was slapped against the same spot at the belt. you only stared at him through your long lashes, unwilling to satiate when you’re unsatisfied yourself. “come on, bambi, open up,” he squeezed your cheeks again, causing your mouth to gape open. “i can’t guarantee it tastes like cherries, but you’re open to trying sweet-n-salty, aren’tcha?” he giggled, amused at his own snarky comments.

the fat tip of his cock pressed into your plump, gape lips, and instinctively, your tongue stuck out to lick it. “there we go,” sam sighed, ready to return to cloud 9.

you sheepishly swirled your tongue around the bulbous tip of his cock, relishing in the taste of his precum oozing into your tastebuds. oh, yeah, you’ve found yourself a new favourite flavour.

“hands up for me, bambi,” he sighed, breathless already. you oblige, eyes widening when his belt snaked over your wrists, tying them in an unholy matrimony. your hands rested in your lap, preventing you from pleasuring yourself like you intended to. “now, open wide f’me.” you’re obedient, eager to please, for you know if sam’s satisfied he would overlook the ‘punishment’ and stick his cock into you. your pussy flutters at the thought of being full again.

as your throat relaxed around him, you started taking more and more of his length, looking up at him through your lashes to seek his validation, and the mere sight was rewarding. his brows furrowed, a pink flush crept into his pale skin, while his lips were plump and agape, marks of his teeth etched into the skin. “your mouth was made to suck cock, y’know that— my cock. you’re only gonna squeeze my cock with that fuckin’ throat, y’hear?” he nods, authoritative yet cooing, “is my girl understanding me?” so you bobble your head along with length. “fuck yeah, brat. going dumb on my cock,” he moans, and you were eager to illicit more of those sounds.

you relax your jaw, inhale deeply, and let him take charge. when sam realises this, the little devil smirks, running his fingers through your scalp to tug at your hair.

his cock pistons in and out of your throat, your eyes watering and your breath haggard. your pussy clenched around nothing but the flooded dampness of your cotton panties.

“oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, fu—” incoherent grunts and groans filled the room along with the delirious smell of your arousals. “fuuuuck, bambi,” sam’s thrusts got sloppier.

“you know,” he spoke, breathless yet mischievously, “this candy comes with a creamy centre,” he chuckled, grunting as he came undone in your mouth. “sweet n’ salty, yeah?” he stroked his cock, relishing in the sight of his heavy load dripping down your plump lips. you were quick to swallow every drop, selfishly devouring your favourite candy. you wondered if this was gluttony or lust?

when satiated, sam pulled away, tucking his cock away. you, too, get up from the floor, wincing at the pain of kneeling down for too long.

you shimmy out of your clothes, making your way towards his bed. sam sees you in the corner of his eye, an eyebrow irking at your actions, “what do you think you’re doing,” he asked plainly, leaving you confused. “i- you’re fucking me, right?” you had a pitiful look on your face, so eager to chase your own release with his assistance. “like hell i will, dumb girl,” sam scoffed, “brats don’t get pleasure after punishment,” he shrugged coldly, grabbing his gaming console.

he pointed towards his thighs, “sit your ass back down,” you whine, “but i’ll be so boooored,” yet perch on his lap, still.

“—and i finished my ring-pop,” you sigh in frustration. sam chuckles, “don’t worry, i’ll have your new favourite out in a minute,”

“this flavour never finishes, just keeps on coming.”

THIS PUNK—

SEE ALSO. playground [PRELIMINARY FIC]. more of Sam Monroe [MEAN!SAM, BIMBO!READER AND OTHER TROPES].

[slutforfinnickodair]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐔𝐒

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐏 𝐢𝐧 𝐕, 𝐮𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 (𝐳𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐳𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!) 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲’𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐡, 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞.

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐂𝐥𝐚𝐲 𝐁𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦 𝐦𝐰𝐚𝐡! 𝐇𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲💗

————

“You are not serious right now.” You giggled as he moved on top of you, still inside of you. “Clayton.” You warned as he pressed his pelvis right against yours, slightly rocking the bed against the wall.

“Your mother will hear.” You gasped slightly as he hit a deep spot inside of you. “Clay.” 

He didn’t respond. The only thing that he did was softly place his thumb on your clit to rub gentle slow circles against your bundle of nerves. 

You heard the constant rocking of the bed against the wall, the concern inside of you growing with the pleasure that was building up in your lower stomach.

Lilith could walk upstairs any time she would like and there would be your good girl reputation laying in front of her legs.

“Clay.” You whined this time as he brought your hips closer to his while laying down his torso on top of yours, holding himself up by his hands.

“That’s it, Darling.” He said while speeding his movements up, making you moan into his mouth and grasp at his back.

You let out a cry, harder this time as you tried burying your face in his shoulder.

“Clayton is everything alright?” You heard Lilith’s voice echoing through the hall.

The sweat fell from your forehead down onto his skin from the sudden shock that earnt your ears. 

“Yes mother, don’t worry about it.” He replied casually as if he wasn’t just railing you on his bed.

“Stop.” You whispered as you heard her heels tapping against the tile that was set down in the corridor coming closer. “Please.” Your fingers squeezed his shoulders, but Clay smirked at you and lifted your hips up with his, grabbing a pillow and placing it under your bottom.

He then grabbed both of your thighs and lifted your legs up into the air, holding both of your ankles with his left hand.

“You sure? I heard panting. Did you take your pills this morning before work?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” He responded while slowly sliding out of you but keeping his head in.

“Clay, I don't want you sick in this house.” Lilith’s voice showed concern as you were trying to keep your breaths steady.

“I’m completely and utterly healthy.” He started while slamming his entire length back into you.

You had to squeeze your eyes shut if you wanted to really stay quiet.

He slid out again.

“No.” You mouthed as if he could hear you.

“Don’t worry mom. Now I would need to finish one of my projects.” He said while you rolled your eyes, feeling him slam back into you.

A soft moan left your mouth and you immediately hid your mouth with one of your hands.

“Okay. I’m going to Brooklyn with Stephanie. Please make dinner until I get home.” Lilith said before you heard her heels clapping against the tile, distancing themselves from his room.

Clay smirked at you before slamming himself back again and letting your ankles go, laying himself on top of your torso as he kept his pace.

“Come on Sweetheart give it to me.” He said while you arched your back the moment he hit that deep spot inside of you.

“Clay.” You moaned. “Wait until she leaves.” You gasped and grabbed his shoulders again, your finely manicured nails pressing into his skin.

“I want to feel you now.” He said while his hand ran down on your stomach.

“Don’t..” You gasped when you couldn’t form your sentence because of his fingers circling slowly around your clit.

Clay heard the door being shut as his mother left the house, making him speed up his movements while you were panting under him, writhing and moaning his name.

“Come.” He whispered while aligning his face with yours. He pressed his lips against yours once again before your hands slid down on his biceps, squeezing the muscle hard as you eased up around him.

“That’s it.” He praised as you felt the fire pool down to your middle, the bubble of pure pleasure exploding inside of you as you threw your head back in ecstasy. 

“Y/N look at me.” He commanded as you tilted your head to look at his face, wanting to just kiss him and lay with him like this for the rest of your lifes.

You felt him easing up inside of you, sighing once you felt him coming. You then wrapped your arms around his shoulders, kissing his lips before rolling you over.

“Hey.” You said while grinning down at him.

He smiled.

“Hey pretty girl.” His hand stroked your back as you kept smiling at him.

You laid your head down on his naked chest as he pulled the covers over you, kissing the top of your head.

He nuzzled his nose into your head while you listened to the soft beats of his heart rate.

“I love you.” He murmured while hugging and pulling you closer.

“I love you more.” You said while smiling into his chest.

“Not possible.”

[altieris]

cw; obsessive!anakin, toxic!anakin, babytrapping, afab reader, 18+

anakin skywalker is an emotional, clingy, fanatic, and obsessive little bastard.

in my heart of hearts, i believe anakin is fucking obsessed with you. he is lovesick. you're just...you, so gentle and warm. you've shown him so much love and care, and he's so so in love with you. he's ready to do just about anything for you. and hes awfully clingy, but affectionately so. he's always holding you close to his body, nuzzling his face all over yours, and kissing you excessively. sometimes it almost seems like he's trying to merge with you.

he tries to move in with you like 2 months into your relationship. he's all whiny and practically begging, "baby, we spend so much time together. why keep going back and forth like this? :(", and you solely agree cause his pout is just too pretty.

honestly, he loses his fucking mind at the mere idea of not being with you. literally. i'm talking, he'd be going on about his day, then suddenly, he's struck with the mental picture of not being yours, and you not being his. and he's brought down to his knees, head in his hands and everything.

it's to the point where he starts getting so possessive and jealous that he cannot fucking bear your friends. the concept of you taking a liking, platonic or not, to anyone but him makes him so nauseous that he's ready to throw up (that's not to say he hasn't already). and it's mutual. your friends fucking hate him, he's so mentally deranged and they can't figure out why you're with him.

oh and woe to you if any of them are men. he is in pure and utter agony. he will visibly sulk, pout and huff 24/7, he's unbearable. and when he's alone, he'll blankly stare at himself in the mirror, scream into his pillow, and cry himself to sleep.

the thought of you being with anyone but him - makes him physically incapable of breathing. it feels as if he's being suffocated. it makes him sick to his stomach and the thought of you loving anyone else makes him want to crawl up into a hole and die. he picks fights and argues with you because he just wants every ounce of your attention to be concentrated on him, needs your eyes to never stray off of him once, needs you to be all his at every waking moment. only his, his, his, his...can't you just give him that?!

and when he's finally able to see you, he practically combusts, he's fueled up by all the negative thinking :( he doesn't even stop to greet you, he just smashes his lips onto yours, and carries you to bed.

he fucks you in missionary, so he can look deep into your eyes, and show you just how much he loves you - tells you all about how he's willing to do whatever it takes for you to never, ever, leave his side. then he snarls harshly, going on about how he can't and won't let you go. and when he's close, he's practically shedding tears, begging you to never disappear on him. can't you see? he's an empty shell of a man without you, he cannot live without you. you tell him to pull out and he almost doesn't catch it due to the resounding obscene noises filling the room. almost. but he does. so he cages you in his arms, and plunges his dick so deep, and he starts babbling, all pathetic, about how your kids would have his eyes, and your nose.

he practically wails when he buries himself to the hilt one last time, shooting his cum deep inside your womb. and you're about to push him off of you when he starts moving again, helplessly and feebly mewling, "i can't stop", hes so demanding and hopeless. hes physically incapable of bringing his messy thrusts to a halt...god, what do you do with him?

[anakinsdove]

𝐘𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 | 𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐤𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem!padawan!reader

summary: Your master is horny and frustrated, he looks for release at a nasty gloryhole in coruscant… only to find out that that perfect pussy he’s fucking belongs to his padawan.

c/w: gloryhole, p in v, masturbation, power imbalance (very nasty idgf im sorry im horny)

discord - twitter: anakinsdove. -PART 2-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧! ｡ﾟﾟ･｡･ﾟﾟ｡ ﾟ。Love you

𝘄/𝗰: 1,838

He’s frustrated, Anakin won’t hide it anymore, he even yelled at you this morning, but as soon as he saw your pretty eyes pout at him he regretted it, it’s not even your fault, you’re learning, he’s your master, he’s supposed to teach you, it’s just… you jumping around and swinging your lightsaber does something to him… and he knows it shouldn’t.

It doesn’t matter anymore, how hard and fast he fucks his fleshlight, how hard he grinds against his mattress trying to chase an unsatisfactory high that leaves him as soon as it arrives, the painful dry orgasms he craves and hates, how painfully hard he grips his cock, nothing is enough, not anymore, he craves something else.

someone else

Someone’s pussy he knows he shouldn’t even think about, but he wonders… he wonders if someday he’ll be able to fuck it… how tight and wet you must feel around his cock… could you even take it? Could his sunshine of padawan handle him? He’ll be gentle, he’ll be rough, he’ll be anything you want him to be

Anakin sits on his bed late at night, however this is coruscant, theres always some sort of party going on somewhere, bars, loud noises and music, flashing lights, even nasty gloryholes, this planet is wild… the Jedi temple is luxurious and quiet on the surface…. But in the lower levels of coruscant there are… some interesting things happening, but he’s a Jedi, he knows it’s not right, he’s not sure what part isn’t right, but there’s something that doesn’t click.. maybe it’s the fact that paying for some services are just not what he wants, he wants your stupid creamy fucking pussy wrapped around his cock… what would you call him? Master? Anakin? And there’s the other fact that it’s avoid being recognized with his Jedi robes and his lightsaber… he must go undercover if he wants to get what he wants.

As anakin prepares himself for an adventure he takes a peek of the empty hallways at the Jedi temple, everyone asleep, everyone doesn’t have the same problem as him… it’s quiet and peaceful… he remembers that place, Obi wan and him tracked a criminal a few alleys away, the discrete yet inviting place hiding beneath the shadows… *is that?* *Don’t even say it Anakin….* Obi wan said with an unamused expression… of course it fucking is.

And now his feet has finally led him here….

The first thing her sees is lady.. well only her hands.. her face is covered by a piece of wood, completely anonymous… great, like this he’ll just have to imagine it’s you… he hope it does the trick, he hands her some credits without saying much… then he takes a deep breathe *Focus Anakin… focus* he tells himself… but the loud slapping noises and moans keep distracting him, he feels some sort of sense of guilt, he knows he’s better than this, but again he’s not… and the last thing he thinks before opening that stained curtain is… Obi wan should never know this… Y/N should never know this….

And finally he sees legs spread and in display… the wood creaks beneath his feet, the loud moans Turing of his brain, men acting like animals as they fuck a pussy, they’re in heat, just like him… he even sees some men on their knees eating out some women… interesting… who said chivalry doesn’t exist anymore?

He stops in front a pair of legs… all pretty and spread wide, inviting, a puffy clit that begs to be touched and rubbed nicely, fuck… those pretty legs look just like yours… just like yours… when you swirl around and he takes a small glance of that set of thighs under your skirt…

But he’s nervous… the consent has been already given right? He doesn’t have to talk to her or even know her name… it doesn’t fucking matter because she’s not you… he holds onto her thighs squeezing softly as the girl adjusts slightly feeling that she’s about to have some company, and just as his touch arrived is gone again as they leave goosebumps, he unbuttons his pants slower that he should’ve, he grasps his cock over his boxers and releases it giving himself a few strokes to get himself rock hard, fuck he’s about to get it… he needs it so so so so so fucking bad, he needs her, he…

He rubs his cock against her clit, slapping his tip against it gently as he hears a small gasp behind… *cute* he thinks to himself… fuck it he deserves this.

He pushes himself all the way in

Grabbing onto her ankles and starting with a relentless peace, the girl cries out, he should’ve given her some time to adjusts but he just couldn’t control himself… he pushes his hips forward trying to get his dick as deep as possible as he throws his head back… “fucking- he’ll…” he hopes he’s not fucking a virgin but this girl feels like one, she feels the way you would’ve feel wrapped around him, you’re so… you’re completely devoted to him, your life is Jedi training with your master anakin, missions with Anakin, free time with Anakin… you’re his, you’re his you’re his and only his… then why is he fucking this random girl? Why won’t you love him the way he loves you so he could be fucking you instead… this infuriates him as he pistons her harder… faster, his fingers digging into her skin leaving marks, he doesn’t know if it’s allowed or not.

He huffs and growls trying to control his anger… sweet moans filling his ears and emptying his thoughts… fuck she sounds just like you

He feels a deep connection to this girl he’s fucking, the force, something? Or it’s just her tight pussy? Gummy walls massaging him so fucking nice, his balls pounding agains her cute asshole, he chuckles as he watches her hips struggle against the hardwood, struggling to stay still, he licks his fingers and starts massaging her puffy clit, rubbing nice and slow… nice and slow, contrasting with his brutal pace

Y/n, Y/n, Y/n… One day he’s going to take you…. One fucking day…

A bead of sweat falls from his forehead, he ignores the noisy looks from people as they see the young hot man fucking the young hot woman like an animal, his hips move expertly against yours, he knows what he’s doing and it shows, and there’s not much to do than to trust roughly to fuck his frustration out, he loves this, the feeling but he wants more, a deeper connection, to look into your eyes as he fucks you, your nails digging in his back as he fucks you so hard it hurts…

He pushes herself deeper as the girl cries out because his tip is kissing her cervix a painful kiss.

This girl is wet… and she’s getting wetter every seconds, he feels the little splashes her pussy is making against his thighs… cute.. she’s squirting, anakin rubs her clit faster, you would arch your back right now wouldn’t you? If it were you obviously… he sees the girls hips raise a little and he knows she’s arching, her pretty feet shake over his shoulders as he keeps pounding her

His hips falteres as he nears his release, cock twitching and pulsating nice inside her velvety pussy

“Keep going!”

Shit, her voice even sounds like yours and he knows he’s imagining it because he’s whipped but this only enhances his experience… he’s breathing heavily, he’s panting as he tries to keeps some noises from escaping but they do.. and finally he cums… she squirts and it’s all fireworks and aftershocks, spasms and pure pleasure, his legs wobble, he put on quite a show….

He pants and pants until his breathing finally even, he feels at peace, what every orgasm should be like, not like those painful and dry ones he gives himself, he sees his cum dripping from the girls pussy, fuck, he didn’t even pull out… his head is pounding and he holds the girls thighs tighter… he feels… he feels a connection…. A big one… a deep one… a nice one… he buttons up his pants and gets on his knees, like an spell has been casted on him, he spread her legs even wider and dives in, he moans at the taste as he gives her a long lick, his lips instantly wrapping around her clit… he licks his cum out of her, he’s possessed, eyes rolling back into his head as he feels the girls fingers tangling on his hair…. Cute little whines can be heard, he’s obviously overstimulating her but… he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t care.

He forced his eyes to open and he looks up and sees her fingers now resting over her stomach

And he sees the delicate bracelet around her wrist….

One that he happens to share with you

His eyes widen as he stands up immediately

“Y/n” he says loud enough for you to hear as his words get drowned into the loud sex noises…. The humid air and the smell of sex are prominent.

“Im sorry master” you say apologetic with that little voice of yours, one that indicates that you know you did something wrong but you’re not sorry for it

Now everything makes sense, he told you about this place a few months ago when Obi wan and him found it… the urge the intense craving and the way his legs lead him here, the connection that he felt to this person… why he was drawer to this pretty set of thighs.

It was all you, you lead him here, taking advantage of your connection through the force…

And he fucking loves it

He dives back in savoring your pussy, biting your button delicate and tongue fucking your hole as he tastes himself, his tongue exploring your folds… your fingers tangle around his locks as you cry out again, your legs close around his head and your back arches… perfect perfect, so fucking perfect.

He feels your back arch again and your moans get louder

You’re so close… so so close.

And he’s going to drag you to the edge

And he’s going to make you cum again

Your master Anakin Skywalker is devouring you like a mad man

And it’s okay

“Master master!” You cry out

An hour later you come out of the place as Anakin waits for you in a dark alley, he sees your with your coat and your wobbly legs… the walk back home is quiet, too quiet… no words exchanged, the aura is heavy yet not uncomfortable.. he leads you inside the Jedi temple and you walk to his quarters… a punishment, not in a sexual way, a lecture… something awaits… he pushes you inside and the door locks….

Your heels echoe in the darkness as his arms wrap around your torso… and you breathe in relief.

masterlist 𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗸𝗶𝗻𝘀𝗱𝗼𝘃𝗲 © --- all rights reserved. no reposting/translating/ copying will be tolerated.

dividers - @i92-93

TAGS: @espinathena-17 @skywqlkergf

[ohcaptains]

𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬.

 pairing. anakin skywalker x f!reader 

synopsis. anakin finds loopholes in the jedi code.

warnings. 18+. this is sexually explicit, do not read this or interact with my blog if you’re a minor. do not copy my shit, i’ll find out. cock warming, p in v penetration but no movement. whimper-y anakin, if you move i'll leave the jedi order type beat.  

an. just a little something i wrote for the kinktober i never did. I thought i'd post instead of letting it collect dust in my drafts. the prompt was cockwarming! hope i did anakin justice<3 pls comment & reblog.

You find him at the window.

Sitting, with his thighs open and chest bare, staring out into the abyss. The night glints at the beads of sweat sliding down his chest, and his fingers drum endlessly against his thighs.

He heard you wake up, so he’s expecting your company, and has leaned back against the chair – thin black gown falling open – ready for you to climb all over him.

It happens often.

It’s not uncommon to wake up without him.

Most nights, you startle out of your slumber – as if even asleep, you’d sensed a shift – and blink at the space on the mattress beside you.

Finding him was easy.

You pad through the living room and wordlessly reach him in his post-nightmare state. His hair is tousled, sculpted chest is slick with sweat -- there’s an energy vibrating off of him, and you can taste it in the air.

Stepping behind him, you gently run the tips of your fingers over his shoulders, and the whirlpool in Anakin’s belly settles for a second. When you move into frame, it’s gone completely, replaced by a warm heat that has roots. He breathes a smile.

“Like clockwork.”

You give him a sheepish grin in return and fiddle with the fabric of your small nightgown. There’s a moment where Anakin gets to look at you – all sleepy and cuddly – and he’s ready to escape with you off of this forsaken planet.

His will holds strong.

“Are you waiting for an invitation?” he asks, raising a scarred brow, and despite your groggy state, you still manage to roll your eyes. Stepping closer, you use his broad shoulders as anchors to slip onto his lap.

“Don’t make that face,” Anakin hushes, and while you settle back onto his thighs, his metal hand comes up. He traces the line of your jaw, “You know I let you do what you want.”

His spare hand steadies your hips, and it’s still warm from his lightsaber. Calloused fingers run over your skin, reminding you of the fight that’s leaving scars – the war that’s brewing, both inside and outside of his mind.

In moments like this, though, there’s a subtle calm.

An impenetrable force that hums over the pair of you.

You lean into his palm and whisper, “Not everything.”

There’s a haunted edge to your gaze, and your words are loaded. Anakin knows what you mean, knows all the intricacies of your subtle dig, and yet, he still manages to smile.

Well, smirk.

“What do you want? Just say the word.”

You wouldn’t, and Anakin knows that. He’s caught your bluff, and you manage a bashful smile before gently leaning forward, dragging your hips against his lap.  

Anakin’s cloth-covered thigh nestles against the thin fabric of your underwear. Your smile falters, lips parting. You push your forehead against his, and whisper, “If I say the words, I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I know,” he breathes, “I know.”

I want more.

A life together, not stolen moments when the sun is down.

An attachment. A bond.

But it’s forbidden.

It’s why it can’t go any further than this.

“What’d you dream about?” you wonder. Anakin pulls his eyes away from you, instead looking to where his thigh sits. The silence is your answer.

“I’ll still ask, even if you never tell.”

He takes hold of your bare thighs, rubbing his hands up and down, and you hum his name, reaching out to push his hair behind his ears.

“Pretty boy.”

“Stop it,” he huffs, cheeks reddening.

But how can you? When he’s all sharp lines and long hair. You run your hands up the bare panes of his muscular chest, feeling the deft of his muscles, and the dampness on his skin.

The air changes – hums electric – and it buzzes as you push his gown off his shoulders.

Carefully, you lean forward and place a chaste kiss against his collarbone.

“That’s better.”

Anakin hums a laugh. His hands snake around to your lower back, dig into the fat of your ass, and using the grip there, he gently rocks you forward once, forcing your clothed cunt to drag against his muscular thigh.

You whimper. It’s quiet, but Anakin can hear it, even if it’s muffled by his shoulder.

“’ S’what you came out here for, huh?” he whispers. The electric flooding through the walls hums, but the room is still eerily silent. Anakin’s voice is a roar.

You lick your lips and drag your face up to see him. “No,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss against his top lip, “I like being with you, even if we don’t do this.”

Anakin has to close his eyes. Words like those are fuel to the fire brimming in his chest, and it doesn’t help that you wrap your arms around his neck and fiddle with the tail end of his hair.

Arching your back, you slowly roll backwards, then forward, teasing the bulge between his legs.

Releasing a shaky breath, you repeat the motion, again, and again, near humping his leg.  

A familiar ache begins to swell, coiling between your thighs and up into your belly. It makes you clench around nothing, and you mewl quietly, wishing for more – always wishing for more.

Still, you continue, slick pooling into your underwear and against his thigh.

Anakin can’t look at you. If he sees your face, his resolve will falter.

His nerves are shot. If he couldn’t feel how wet you are, he could smell it, and it makes a groan bristle behind his teeth.

He buries his head into the crook of your neck and busies himself with kissing at the soft shell of your throat, careful not to leave marks.

Once, you left a mouth-shaped mark against his stomach, and he looked at it every day for a week.

Caught himself with his top up in the mirror looking at the reflection, eyeing the way the mark sat on the firm lines of muscle, fading away with time.

A dark part of him wanted the mark on the slope of his neck.

“Wanna be inside of you.”

His admission rests heavily against your throat, and you’re thankful that he can’t see the way you clench your eyes closed.

Though, he does feel you tighten your grip on the back of his head. Feels you shift up against his thigh, and the warmth pooling in your underwear burns against him.  

He can sense you’re hesitant.

“’ can be like last time. Just – Just --” he stutters, licking his lips and struggling to release the words from the back of his throat. Finally, he manages. “--Sit on it.”

“Anakin.”

He pulls away from your neck and looks up at you.

“We can use it as an exercise.”

A laugh bursts from your throat, “To test your will?”

He smiles, and because you have to, you push your cunt against his crotch, uttering, “Want me to make It difficult for you?” and white flashes through Anakin’s eyes.

He grabs your hips to steady you, tensely pushing his fingers into your skin.

“Hardest challenge I’ll ever encounter.”

“You eager to impress?”

He kisses your jaw, “Don’t I always?”

“Mm,” you hum, cradling his chin. You shift back so he can pull his trousers down, and when you take his cock in your hand, he melts. His commanding aura switches for a moment, and you watch Anakin still his breathing.

You push your underwear to the side, and as you lift yourself to sink onto him, Anakin breathes, “Just the tip – just a little bit, j-just—” and he chokes on his words, gasping as you brush the leaking head of his cock through your folds.

You halt. Whimper. Have to grip his shoulder to steady yourself, or you’ll push him inside of you all at once and hurt yourself.

You inhale steadily.

“Have to – have to go slow,” you spurt, trying to calm your tremors.  

“It’s been a while since…”

You don’t have to finish your sentence. Anakin knows, and he feels a mix of pride and guilt. Only me, he thinks, and then, like a flash, only me, he swallows. And I can’t give her everything.

This. This is as far as it’ll go. He knows he’s pushing it. Knows that he’s come up with some convoluted rule to both have his cake and eat it too.

If he fucks you the way he wants to, he’ll fall in love with you. As if it hasn’t happened already.

Anakin has made lying to himself a speciality.

You push against him once more, and the tip of his cock nudges between your folds, forcing an ache to shoot through your clit and make you dizzy. You stop. Pause and curse yourself.

A slow burn builds in your thighs, and you clench down to try and mediate the burn. Anakin grunts.

“Maker,” he utters. “Sorry—” you splutter, sucking in a tight breath.

Anakin wraps his metal arm around the back of your hips, hoping to steady you. “Lemme,” he mumbles, and gently, he flexes his hips up, slowly feeding his cock into your soaked pussy.  

Your lower abdomen immediately burns.  

He’s being calm about it – using all his training – but there’s nothing calm about the words trickling out of his mouth.

“Oh stars,” he groans, voice wrecked, “You gonna take all of me, sweet girl? Gonna let me fill you up?”

When you finally sink to the hilt, your resolve snaps. The pair of you moan out in unison, loud and high-pitched.

Anakin buries his face in your chest, and the heat of his mouth against your breasts adds to the tension coiling in your belly.

“Don’t – don’t move,” he grunts, and you shake your head, “I won’t – I’ll come on your cock if I do,” and you don’t mean to say it like that, don’t mean for the words to come out like that, but you feel Anakin pulse from inside of you, warm and hard and wet.

He manages to laugh.

“Tryna kill me,” he shakily breathes, shaking his head. His wet lips brush against your breasts, and you want more – want all that he can give you – so you clutch the back of his head, pulling him closer, hoping he gets the message.

His wet kisses make your skin prickle.

You’re full up. Can feel him stretching you out, this feeling something that’s only happened a few times before.

“If you move,” Anakin begins, out of breath, “I’ll leave the Jedi order and spend my days inside of you.”

“Don’t t-tempt me.”

He laughs, and you accidentally clench around him, causing him to groan deep and long against your tits.

“If you do that again, I’ll come inside of you.”

You imagine it. Imagine him spilling out, the wet white of it dripping out of your cunt and back onto his cock, and the mere image of it has your clit throbbing.

Keep still. Don’t move.

But he wraps his tongue around your nipple and begins to suck.

You cry out, and all of your muscles tighten, forcing you to clench tight around his cock. Anakin jolts and whines your name against your tits.

“S’your fault,” you mewl, moaning. You hang your head back, “Stars, Anakin.”

“Try and stay still,” he mumbles, and you stutter a laugh, “Impossible.”

“It can’t be,” he responds, and while he speaks in jest, his words are sincere. The line between love and lust runs thin, and if Anakin is being honest with himself, it’s close to snapping.

[starlazergazer]

Say My Name and Everything Just Stops

Pairing: Anakin x Reader

Summary: A short little piece about Anakin being totally enamored with you as you get dressed up for a ball

Warnings: None!

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: This is something that’s been sitting in my drafts forever always figuring I’d work it into a story at some point but I think it stands on its own well but let me know what y’all think! I absolutely love hearing from you!!!!

 A small chuckle fell from his lips at the look on your face, the way your eyebrows scrunched in concern, the way your heel danced in the air slightly as you pushed your weight forward to your toes.

“Here” he whispered to you, choosing to ignore the fact that he leaned in closer than necessary to do so, offering you his arm.

You sent him a small, grateful smile that had him fighting his own from growing even wider, before carefully placing your hand into the crook of his elbow.

It was a featherlight touch, one he might not have even noticed given the right circumstances, but you looking like that in that dress, staring up at him through your lashes, a pink tint in your cheeks from the embarrassment, that featherlight touch was all he could think of.

He worked to descend the stairs slowly, eyes never peeling from your form as you tired to hold your head high, to exude confidence, he was sure you had every eye in the building on you.

Then suddenly your heel snagged on the carpet unexpectedly, a small shift of your weight in his direction as you quickly corrected it, then that featherlight touch changed to you fully gripping his bicep.

And if he had thought that featherlight touch was distraction it was nothing compared to the electricity that ran through his arm from this new one.

You didn’t even acknowledge him as it happened, leaning into him for stability for a brief moment, subtle enough there was no way anyone had even noticed, but still Anakin reached up and patted your hand in a wordless question. You squeezed his arm back in response.

Finally, the two of you reached the ground floor, the stable ground putting even more confidence into you as your grip on his arm loosened, loosened but never fully let up, a fact that had Anakin grinning down at his shoes.

All too soon there was a swarm of people, the senator herself coming in to make introductions and Anakin held out his hand to each person without even listening to their name, his mind unable to stray far from the hand on his arm and the stunning woman that accompanied it.

And he tried not to resent the senator pulling you away for a hug for her welcome, but with the way your hand finally left his bicep, your fingers softly dragging down to his elbow then forearm as you were pulled away, the trail of sparks that were sent shooting beneath his skin at the small contact, the coldness of the area once you had finally vacated it, he found it incredibly hard not to.

Politely he forced himself through his own hello, a shake of her hand, a small peck on the cheek, a thank you for inviting him, and finally he was back in his own bubble of personal space, wishing that only one person in particular would invade it.

He held his hands clasped together in front of him and tried not to think about the way he pushed his elbows away from his torso, practically begging you to loop your arm through his again. He really tried not to think of the way you seemingly never took notice of that.

Suddenly it was just the two of you again, the welcome party slowly retreating with promises to catch up soon, and the two of you were staring at the dance floor.

And watching the way your eyes would sparkle looking at the other women’s twirling dresses, the small smile that graced your lips as you swayed slightly to the music, Anakin was physically pushing down the desire to ask you to dance.

You whirled back on him so suddenly Anakin barely had time to avert his gaze before you were looking back at him, that same small smile that didn’t really tell Anakin if you had caught him staring or not.

But then there was that grip on his arm again, this time higher, just below his shoulder, a soft squeeze that immediately had all of his attention, not that you didn’t already have it.

“I’m going to go get a drink”

And he was so enamored by that damn hand on his arm that he didn’t even have time to think about offering to get it himself, barely catching up to what had just happened by the time your hand was slipping away from him.

You hadn’t even made it to the bar before a hand was extended in your direction, an offer to dance, a grin on your lips as you accepted placing your hand in his as he led you to the dance floor.

And Anakin tried to focus on how happy you seemed, how eager you were to get to dance, how you grinned as you made polite conversation.

Instead, all he could focus on was the stranger’s hand sitting low on the small of your back, the way he stood way too close as the two of you swayed, the soft pink your cheeks turned at whatever he had whispered into your ear.

He was across the dance floor without a second thought.

Neither of you noticed his approach, the man tensing slightly at the tap on his shoulder, giving him a curt “do you mind” as he gestured to you.

“We just-“ he started before seeming to connect the dots, his eyes flicking between you and Anakin quickly as his brows rose slightly “I’m sorry I didn’t know it was like that”

“It’s not” your confused voice spoke as he finally backed away from you, finally dropped his arms from around you letting Anakin breathe a little easier.

“Well now you do” Anakin offered quickly, giving the man little more time to ask questions before stepping up to take his place, hands going to your hips pulling you into him as he started to sway, the stranger melting into the background immediately in his mind.

Your brow remained furrowed though, eyes bouncing between Anakin and the stranger behind him as your arms nonetheless snaked around his neck, matching your movements to his much to Anakin’s relief.

Suddenly he felt a soft thump on the back of his head as you flicked him, pulling his eyes down to yours in surprise. “What?”

“Don’t what me” you shook your head up at him, unable to keep a hint of amusement from your tone “what was that?”

“I was saving you” he shrugged, his eyes going up to gaze around the room.

“Oh really?” You challenged him with raised brows “saving me from-“

“from a dreadfully boring evening on the arm of that guy” he finished your sentence with a hint of a smug grin on his face as he looked down at you only making you roll your eyes.

“Sure Ani” you chuckled softly, shaking your head “you know if you wanted to dance all you had to do was ask”

He felt his cheeks heat up at your comment, dipping his head slightly lower “now where’s the fun in that”

[qvnthesia]

Another You (1)

an anakin skywalker/jedi consular!reader fic set during the clone wars

the pitch: best friends with anakin since he had joined the jedi order, you hadn’t expected to catch feelings for him, not that hard, at least. his intentions were clear — his heart already enraptured by the nubian senator, leaving you to ruminate about the prospect of letting go of not just him, but maybe everything. until another anakin shows up, and your — your universe’s anakin starts behaving strangely.

A/N: this is a gift for my padawan, @kaizsche! happy birthday, kai! i hope you enjoy this fic! i return from an unexpectedly long hiatus with a three-part fic and i hope that all my other readers enjoy this short-fic too! a note to all readers — there’s no y/n here, the reader’s nickname for the fic is sky. that’s all from my end! happy reading!

part one — and you are?

word count: 3, 380

part one (here) | two | ....

As a Consular, you were trained to study the deepest abyss of the Living and the shrouded myths of the Cosmic. Albeit well-trained with a lightsaber, being a Jedi meant forsaking weapons for words. Diplomacy over bloodshed. Knowledge, insights, and lessons instead of learning the different ways of besting war-mongering droids and bureaucrats.

You look back at the looming hallways of the Temple, letting out a sigh as you turn around to watch the warships meander above the setting skies through the windows. The sun used to shine brighter, you think, but perhaps it’s the shadows that don’t let the light reach the galaxy anymore.

A Nubian ship soars between where the indigo darkens the pale orange in the sky and another wave of longing and sorrow digs deeper into your heart.

It had been almost a standard week since the Five Hundred and First Legion had arrived for their monthly rotation to protect Coruscant.

“Let’s hope we make it a week and not get called back to bust some Seppies since the 501st seems to be the only competent one to get some wins.”

You couldn’t stop the smile that had tugged at your lips.

“Don’t let Obi-Wan hear you say that.”

A deep rumble of laughter had echoed through Anakin’s chest and he’d pulled you into his embrace. It hadn’t taken a Force-sensitive to sense the happiness spread through your body, or that the same happiness had made him glow in the sea of shadows drowning the Force. He smelled just like he always did — fuel, probably the one from Malastare, since the scent always tingled your skin, and kyber, his bond with the second crystal coursing through his year-old arm. The spark of the Force, you called it, the crystal accepting the machine as a part of him.

But there was something more. You stiffened, the soft, sweet scent making you sneeze, making you draw back and—

“Since when in the name of Maker did you start wearing nlorna fruit-scented perfume?”

His cheekbones immediately stained red, shock dripping from every inch of his face until the charm and delight took over for the damage control.

“Some reporter tried to get up too close while I was on my way to the Temple.”

You laughed it off, knowing very well the Chancellor had banned journalists to enter the Temple after an incident involving three women, two men, and a food fight in the barracks had ended with Commander Cody coming off with a sprained neck and handing nearly half of the 212th two days’ worth of time of cleaning the trooper barracks on Coruscant. There were admirers of General Kenobi and on the other hand, well, admirers even Kenobi couldn’t negotiate with.

Obviously, it wouldn’t take an idiot to know. Anakin had always confided everything to you. He’d considered you as the best of his friends — the point which had exactly been the problem for the past two years. But you knew he was keeping something. You knew it, and the realization of it had cracked through whatever strength you always mustered whenever he smiled at you with those blue eyes — always so tired. Ones that had come to no one else to you for caf, for stories about your mind-blowing inventions, always teasing you about the time you had created such a fluffy pillow for Master Yoda’s backaches that it had taken him the collective efforts of the Council to wake him up from his slumber. You had never known what had happened in Master Yoda’s chambers, but the Council had learned not to disturb the centuries-old master from his sleep ever since then.

Anakin would continue on and on, narrating the tales of his adventures across the galaxy, while you kept on wondering when he’d slip like he usually did and confirm your worst fears.

But you never got the chance. The war grew on, spreading its tentacles to the corners of the Outer Rim to the point where the once full hallways of the Temple had never been so desolate, so hollow and abandoned. Every attempt of studying the Force your meditation had ended up just easing the mighty power as it writhed under the screams of terror, of the losses of life and the constant blasts and booms of missiles and bombs.

Just when you wished for some peace in the Temple, word had spread of spies in the Senate. You had joined Anakin and Obi-Wan to watch another one of the Senate’s heated sessions. The Chancellor’s bony fingers extended across the air, his steel voice commanding Senator Orn Free-Taa to shut down his baseless arguing against Senator Organa. But the senator from Ryloth simply refused to back down, until another pod smoothly drifted to join the three, the air ringing with the determination and tranquility brought forth by none other than Padmé Amidala.

The bond between you and Anakin flared up, something so bright and looming, such beauty and danger filling your soul till it vanished with a spark. You looked at Anakin, who had been clapping with the surrounding senators, his radiant smile only and only for no one but the occupant of the Nubian pod.

For so long, you had wondered who it was he’d found, had been so desperate for an opportunity to see, maybe echo some made-up protest or remark that’d dull his interest and make him come back to you no matter how selfish it sounded. But it was hard for you to ignore the goodness in Padmé’s heart, her resilience easing the Force in a way you never could, no matter how much time you spent studying it, meditating to repair its cracks and tear apart the veins of darkness shrouding its light.

Anakin Skywalker had fallen in love, and it wasn’t you. It was someone else and you… you were simply too late.

You let out a sigh, watching the Nubian ship disappear between the tall skyscrapers of the ecumenopolis. The scrolls on your table rustle for your attention, and you heavy-heartedly oblige, going back to once again analyze another countermeasure against the Separatists, who were now rumored to have created some sort of machine that could decimate entire civilizations — a planet-killer, the informant had said, before being poisoned to death.

You set down the scrolls with a heavy thump. Ever since Padmé, Anakin hardly ever came to visit. Ever since this stupid rumor of the Separatists’ planet-killer, the governing body of the entire galaxy looked up to you for solutions, for answers. They had offered you a chunk of kyber crystal retrieved from Ilum stolen by the Separatists and then recovered by Master Yoda himself. They demanded a weapon, sharply silencing your idea of diplomacy.

You wished for Anakin to maybe visit you, to just… just forget the karking war for five freaking minutes and let his childhood lullabies lull you to a restful slumber. Instead, you were drilling your gaze on the kyber crystal covering under a massive rug, the strength of the Force humming within a wonder for your meditation, the crystal’s deathly blue glow the bane of your sleep.

But that was the point. Maybe just forget the war. It did seem never-ending; one day the Republic won, the Separatists in the other. There was simply no end in sight. The number of lives to save was steeply increasing, missing civilians and dead soldiers bruising the Republic’s morale. Your master had been one of the unfortunate Jedi to pass into the Cosmic Force on Geonosis. Some of the padawans you had formed friendships with were now soldiers scattered across the galaxy. The Council was too busy arguing about matters behind closed doors, matters in half of which you were indirectly involved in. Anakin was away most of the time, the Hero With No Fear too busy to worry about his best friend who had so foolishly violated her morals and had fallen in love with him.

Isn’t that what you had exactly trained yourself to avoid?

“It’ll pass.”

You scoff at your Master’s words ringing in your head. The anger simmering in your bones builds up to a crescendo, and makes its presence known with the shatter of your sensor arrays on the opposite wall. Glass shards litter your laboratory, blood trickling down the lines of your palms, your exhausted tears joining the red dripping on the floor.

A soft twang bends the air in the room and echoes through the Force. The hair on the back of the neck rises sharply, and you watch the kyber in bewilderment. The deathly blue behind the rug hums stronger. Your equipment breathes to life, and your teary eyes squint in confusion, rushing toward the kyber as an invisible force possesses your machinery to run diagnostics on its own.

The deathly blue turns as bright as the Coruscanti sun shining at the Core, lighting up the edges of the galaxy with a power rivaling the one you and so many others before you control. You shield your eyes, stumbling over boxes and books detailing advancements of the past. Your equipment spits electric sparks, and you cower behind your arms.

“Stop it—STOP!”

The glow dies, the light in your laboratory returning to just as it was before. You launch into a fit of coughs, waving your hands to disperse the smoke filling the lab. You tune your senses and reach out into the Force.

The wave of a horrifying scream slams into you, knocking you off your feet. You summon the Force again, hoping the mystical power can help you steady yourself. But you freefall toward the table of sharp-edged screws and bolts until you’re pulled forward headlong towards a figure.

You regain your balance, fingernails digging into a smooth fabric covering a rock-hard chest. A tendril of warmth and concern wraps around your Force signature, and you look up at your savior.

“Anakin!”

You wrap your arms around his neck, breathing him in, all of him— wait, was that cabbage and banthaweed? Oh, who in the maker gave a shit — was he alright? Was he—

Your train of thought crashed to a halt as you draw back, gazing at Anakin before you. Your heart rate accelerates to a speed you can’t bring yourself to control, and you pray to the Maker he doesn’t hear it.

He’d done something to his hair. It was longer now, falling just below his shoulder and partly tied back, streaks of light brown and grey near his temples. Loose shirts and trousers and softer tones of beige and brown had replaced his dark, billowing robes. Most of all, you’re aware of his stormy blue eyes roving over you, wide-eyed in absolute shock.

“Hi.”

There’s a strange breath in the greeting that escapes him, one that makes you gulp; his throat visibly bobs as he clenches his jaw. The movement makes you realize there are two feet between you and him. Two feet away from the thunderous storm that is always Anakin Skywalker.

To your surprise, there’s no storm raging before you, nothing but a serene sun shining bright, its warm tranquillity reminding you of the one time you and Anakin had snuck off-world to Naboo as padawans. He’d promised the summers there at the time were delightful, and true to his words, they really were.

You reach out, intertwining your fingers with his, and meet flesh instead of cold metal.

You yelp, harshly flinching backwards. Anakin’s eyebrows shoot up in concern and he raises both his hands in an attempt to placate you. You’re horrified as you see his right arm, no longer a prosthetic but actual flesh.

“Sky!”

A sharp voice rings through the dimly-lit hallways, footsteps running their way towards you, and Anakin Skywalker skids to a stop at the threshold of your laboratory.

“Sky, are you—”

He halts his question mid-way, acknowledging the presence of the man standing right beside you.

There’s a moment of silence that passes between the two stunned men, before the Jedi-clad Anakin ignites his lightsaber, pointing the laser tip toward his long-haired double.

“Sky, get behind me.”

“Wha—” You whirl toward him with an indignant expression and your hands on your hips. “Do you think I’m incapable of defending myself?”

“No, I don’t—”

“On the contrary,” the long-haired Anakin speaks, his voice mellifluous and silvery, “I think not.”

You and Anakin pause in beginning another one of your bickering sessions, Anakin’s lightsaber still leveled against his double.

“Who in the hell are you?”

“Anakin Skywalker?” the long-haired Anakin answers again in the same tone, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. “And you must be…”

“Anakin Skywalker,” says your Anakin, the height of his lightsaber inching slowly to the ground, utterly confused.

Shit.

“Well, this is interesting.”

The three of you swerve toward Obi-Wan standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he strokes his beard while Cody’s eyes are going to pop right off of his skull, witnessing one Anakin standing on each of your sides. Captain Rex, on the other hand, just aged a standard decade more with the lines appearing on his forehead.

“Stand down, Anakin. There’s no need for… that,” Obi-Wan ends rather admonishingly, though stunningly failing, still roiling from his possible lack of sleep — or the shock of seeing a copy of his former padawan.

Anakin’s lightsaber retracts into its hilt, and Obi-Wan turns to you.

“Consular Sky.”

Double shit.

“Are you alright?”

Oh, thank Maker—“Yes, Master Kenobi,” you nod fervently, not knowing whether you’re doing a good job of convincing Obi-Wan or yourself. “I’m completely fine, all thanks to Anakin.”

“It’s no problem, Sky.”

“You’re welcome.”

Anakin shoots a glare at, well, the long-haired Anakin, who shrugs with a relaxed raise of his eyebrows.

Obi-Wan looks like he’s about to faint right then and there, but the negotiator that he’s always been, he schools his expression just in time before anyone else can comment on it.

“Could you tell us what happened here, Sky?”

You look around your laboratory, trying to find an answer to the same question evidently ringing loud in everyone else’s minds.

Something along the lines of your nighttime reading pops up in your mind, and you cringe inwardly.

Double shit.

Obi-Wan’s expression settles into the one he’s always worn whenever he’s attending another one of the Council’s meetings.

Triple shit.

“Well, I don’t think I need to tell you where we’re going next, are we?”

“Which is the point here—”

The room’s attention turns back to the long-haired Anakin, eyes twinkling bright with the same softness as the time of his appearance.

“Where exactly are we going?”

Maker, he had to ask.

“From another universe, this version of Skywalker is?”

You grit your teeth and find the courage to nod.

Master Yoda grips his cane even tighter. Honestly, you really want to pity the old master, but Master Windu sits right next to him, clearly grouchy at being disturbed from the sleep he probably got after weeks and weeks of leading attack and rescue campaigns.

“How is this even possible?” Master Koon’s voice rumbles through his mask, sharp and alert despite the drowsiness emanating from a majority of the Jedi Council.

“Well, Master Koon, there’s the multiverse theory,” you speak, voice slightly quivering. “It’s clear our universe isn’t the only one that exists. There are thousands of worlds out there with billions and trillions of lifeforms. But they’re distantly separated from ours, just like all others. For all we know, they might have their own laws of physics, their own collections of stars and galaxies — that is, if stars and galaxies can exist in those universes,” you stop a nervous hiccup and continue. “—and maybe even their own intelligent civilizations.”

“Is this true, then?” Master Windu leans forward with his signature soul-scanning glare. “Are you truly from another universe? Or just another shapeshifter?”

All other Council members swerve their heads toward the long-haired Anakin standing on your right.

“I assure you, Master Windu,” the other Anakin shrugs lightly. “I am not from here. I—”

He takes a second to look around, his gaze turning distant.

“I will admit I have been here before, in the Temple, though this one does look incredibly different from the one I was raised and trained in.”

Several pairs of eyebrows shoot up in surprise, even Anakin’s, who stands just in the corner behind where Obi-Wan has himself perched on another one of the Council chairs.

Master Windu recovers from his internal heart attack and focuses his line of sight on you.

“How did this happen?”

“Honestly, even I’m not sure, Master Windu,” you admit. “I did nothing of any sort to the crystal, it just started to glow, and the next thing I know—”

“I’m here,” the other Anakin finishes, eyes twinkling in some sort of amused annoyance.

Master Yoda taps his cane, and the Council’s incoming deliberations surrender to silence.

“Will of the Force, it seems, that this Skywalker has been sent here. Aid us, harm us, know that, I do not.”

He flutters his eyes close for a brief second, tendrils of his power hesitantly coiling around you and the other — long-haired — Anakin before refocusing them on you.

“Consular—” you stiffen as Master Yoda blurts out your name. “—find a way to send this Skywalker to his home, your task it is. Help you, our Skywalker will. Lead Captain Rex and the Five-Oh-First, Master Kenobi will—”

Behind Obi-Wan, Anakin steps forward to protest.

“—Temporarily, till resolved, the situation is.”

Anakin stops to stand on your left, the slight touch from his elbow a sign of comfort and reassurance.

“Important I feel, it is, to send this Skywalker home. Stay longer, he must not. At war, we already are. Already upon us, the shadows of the Sith are.”

The long-haired Anakin’s eyebrows raise.

You sigh inwardly. I’ll explain it to you later.

He relaxes, and you turn toward your Anakin, who gazes at his counterpart with a strange mixture of suspicion and something along the lines of annoyance.

“Send him home quickly, you must, Consular,” Master Yoda speaks with an inspired urgency. “Terrible it will be, I sense if the Sith find him. Not just for Jedi, but for the Galaxy, also.”

Your Anakin moves closer, his fingertips brushing yours, a tingling sensation itching yours to touch his.

You focus your gaze on the masters before you and bow down with both Anakins, nodding towards Yoda and Windu.

“Master Kenobi will show our guest to his new quarters.”

Obi-Wan seems relieved at finally being allowed to stretch his legs as he strides over to the long-haired Anakin.

“Come along,” the master pauses before smiling in his wise and incredibly tired ways. “Anakin.”

The other Anakin offers a cordial nod and turns to you.

“I suppose I’ll be seeing you later.”

He poses it as a question of sorts. You don’t take time to dissect his intentions, having no energy to do so with the day’s certainly turbulent events and give him a nod.

“Thank you.”

Your eyes slightly twitch in alertness as he offers you a bright, albeit tired smile. Before you can respond or react, he’s already followed Obi-Wan to his quarters, having long disappeared around the nearby corner.

“Sky?”

Your Anakin puts his hand — the metal hand — on your shoulder.

You can practically feel the gears of his joints creaking to ensure his touch stays gentle, despite knowing very well he could easily crush your lung right now with the frustration nagging at his veins.

“It’s nothing, Anakin,” you answer before he can voice his worries out loud. “I’ll be fine—we better get some sleep, lots of work to do.”

Anakin nods, letting go of you with a soft smile. With a sweep of his robes, he walks out of the Council chambers.

You finally let out the breath you’d been holding; the image of both of their smiles filling your vision much clearer than they were supposed to.

Quadruple shit.

to be continued...

thank you so so much for reading! if you'd like to be added to the tag list, comment below! <33

gif credits to @nowadayz

cross-posted on AO3 <33

part one (here) | two | ....

[hanasnx]

honey.

MINORS DNI 18+ NOTES: inspired by @justadmiringanakin bcos i read some of her ceo!anakin thing and i’m so excited for it to be posted. so this is dedicated to her. WARNINGS: dilf!anakin | sexual content | kinks: daddy, size | position: cowgirl | age gap.

“that’s it, baby, that’s it,” soft praises echo in your ear as you sink down onto DILF!ANAKIN SKYWALKER's length. “you feelin’ it? you feelin’ okay?”

you sniff, twisting your face in the most adorable way. too pitiful to resist, he leans into you, trailing sweet lingering kisses onto your heated cheek and temple.

“can you speak? can you do that for me, baby?” he keeps his voice barely above a whisper, like you’re exchanging secrets. large hands handle the fat of your thighs, stroking soothingly with his thumbs. he’s warm, and impossibly deep.

to let him know you’re alright, you nod, and feel his lips pass over your closed eyelids. your fists tangled in the collar of his shirt begin to tremble as you flex your legs, raising yourself.

“take it easy. don’t hurt yourself.” he says, even while his palm slide to your ass, instinctively drawing you closer into his chest.

“i can do it.” you plea, “please, ani, please. need it so bad.”

lovingly, he tilts his head, a wistful smile stretching his lips. “makes me feel young when you call me that.” his honeyed countenance remains only until you lift yourself, so tight wrapped around him it furrows his brows and sharply inhale. “fuck…”

“need— you,” you choke out, opening your eyes to meet his lust-blown gaze.

“‘m right here, angel. right here,” he assures you, one hand wedging between the two of you to thumb at your sensitive bud, it helps but doesn’t solve everything. “can feel you drying up, you’re going too fast.”

“if i can just…” you whine, his warnings going unheeded as you invite yourself onto him, letting your weight lower yourself. but he’s quick to catch you. his grip on your flesh aches, chastising you for biting off more than you can chew.

“what’d i say?” you’re feeling the stretch. the sting. it’s almost enough to get you wet enough for him. almost. “you told me you could handle it.”

“‘m sorry!” you cry out. “ani, i’m so horny it hurts.”

he hushes you, easing your worries by releasing your skin and coming up to stroke the top of your head. gently, he directs it to him, resting your cheek on his shoulder so he can tuck you under his. that big hand threads through your hair, sending tingles down your spine from the contact. his thumb continues to rub circles into your swollen clit.

ever so slowly, he flexes his abdomen as he ruts up into you. you can feel it against you, rigid and hard. the position is comfortable, and safe to relax in. your pussy grateful for the release of tension, loosening with each loving thrust into you. “there, is that better?”

you nod and make a noise of confirmation. when he decides you’re ready, he starts helping you to move too. he pokes around until he finds an angle inside that causes arousal to dampen your conjoined sexes.

“kids. still don’t know patience.”

[interloved]

nerdy!anakin skywalker who’s secretly a freak

requested by poll!

description box; the nerd with the glasses that tutors you turns out to be not so innocent after all. and he looks even more delicious without his glasses.

warning; heavy nsfw warning, mentions of cheating and an affair, porn with a bit of plot, anakin is a total pervert and freakyyyy, smut under the cut!, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

ANAKIN SKYWALKER IS A nerd, and it’s by default that he doesn’t associate with ‘your kind’.

the popular kind, the pretty kind.

the ones that run around with the football players, the kind of people that have this certain aura that just makes everyone look at them the second they walk into the room.

most of the popular people at your school were known to be arrogant douchebags, unintelligent jerks and vain bitches who thought they were above everyone else. but not you, though.

you were different. you were popular, really uniquely and breathtakingly beautiful, but your heart and soul were just as pretty as you. you also had a jerk of a boyfriend, and you really sucked at mathematics and physics. but luckily for you, your desk mate anakin skywalker, who also happens to sit next to you in physics classes, knows that. and also happens to be a very valued tutor.

“another D?”

anakin’s gaze is deplorable, his lips are pressed together in a pitiful way.

“yeah,” you wince as you examine the big, red D on your paper, “can’t say i didn’t expect it though. i thought the questions were really easy—maybe that should’ve given it away.”

anakin is hesitant, he doesn’t want to upset you—he knows you’ve been called stupid and dumb plenty of times by teachers, but really, he knows you’re not. really, you excel at subjects like history, english or music, you just… need a little tutoring. but he also knows you’re too prideful for that. you’ve never been bad enough at a subject to need tutoring, but you’ve been consistently getting D’s the whole year and there’s nothing anakin can do.

he would’ve let you copy his answers, but the teachers never look away during exams. he wouldn’t have done for just anyone—he would’ve only done it for you.

you’re the kindest person he’s ever met. you probably don’t remember but about four years ago, maybe a little more, he was getting bullied really bad. and not just by anyone, a guy named dylan. he was your boyfriend at the time. and still is. fucking asshole. anakin hated him passionately.

but you’d broken up with him after you’d caught him throwing punches into anakin’s stomach. you had yelled at him, even slapped him, you had taken anakin by the hand and went to the school nurse with him. and you were so kind to him. so sweet. so nice.

honestly, it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when he developed a huge crush on you. but he never confessed, he knew you were out of his league, and not his. especially after your (shitty asshole! anakin would treat you so much better) boyfriend dylan had apologised to him and you in a heartbreaking manner through a big gesture, and you had forgiven him.

ever since, dylan and anakin still give each other dirty glances and nasty glares, but he never laid hand on him again.

anakin would like to describe you and him as friends. you talked to each other in every class you had together, especially physics, because you sat next to each other, and you always greeted each other in the hallways.

but you guys have never hung out together and you’ve never been to his place, or he to yours.

“listen, maybe you… maybe i can study with you.” anakin muttered gently, carefully studying your face expressions as he made his suggestion.

your eyebrows formed into a frown, “you think that’ll help?”

anakin nodded, relieved you weren’t taking this as badly as he’d thought you would, “yeah, sure. i’m a tutor, you know? i can explain stuff pretty well.”

“oh, i wouldn’t want to impose—” you’re quick to deny, you hate bothering people.

fuck, you’re the sweetest person there is. truly an angel sent down from heaven. anakin made up his mind, right there. he would do anything to make you his.

“no, you’re not imposing. i want to. i want to do this for you.” he smiled, but seeing your hesitant face, he added, “besides, we’re friends. isn’t that what friends do for each other?”

a small smile tugged at your lips. “really? you… you’d do that for me? but i really don’t want to be a bother! you’re so smart and clever, you probably have so many tutees and you’re probably so busy—”

anakin would be replaying those words in his mind tonight. non-stop.

“listen, i really don’t mind. it’ll be like us hanging out. ‘kay? you don’t need to worry about it, i’m happy to be at your service.”

you hesitated for a second. and then you smiled, and anakin knew he’d won. “OK, then. it’ll be like a hangout.”

“it’s settled then,” he smirked at you, “my place? tomorrow afternoon?”

you laugh.

“your place, tomorrow afternoon.”

YOU HAD ABSOLUTELY NO idea how you ended up like this. in his bed. in this position. moaning and whimpering his name.

you were on all fours, legs trembling and quivering, your arms weak and the only thing that was holding you up was anakin’s toned arm, hooked under your waist, holding you up firmly as he thrusted into you.

you had never noticed it before, but his arm… looked so… delicious when it was flexed.

“that feel good, darling?” the smirk in his voice is all too evident, he got off on the way you were so fucking responsive to his every touch.

his hands went from caressing your thighs and kneading your ass to playing with your nipples and tugging back your hair.

“haven’t even begun properly fucking you and you’re already so soaked. does your boyfriend not fuck you, darling?”

your mind is nothing but chaos, and your stomach all fuzzy, and the only thing you can do is whine around his cock, writhing underneath him. you nod, you just nod because your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t kiss your cervix like this, your boyfriend’s cock doesn’t fit into your womb so fucking well, because your boyfriend doesn’t make you feel so, so, so good.

“n-need you to go faster…”

he kisses his teeth with his one, making a quiet ‘tsk’ sound. “that’s not very polite, demanding others like that. what’s happened to your manners, angel?”

he’s fucking you agonisingly and painfully slowly from behind, the question papers he brought and physics notes he made for you, just for you, carelessly scattered in front of you. your hands are gripping them as you moan.

“f-fuck, ani—please just… won’t fuck me faster? can’t… can’t, ‘m not—hah—”

“all right, all right, doll,” he replies to you sweetly, bending over next to your ear, still thrusting into so painfully slowly, “only if you admit that you love me more than your boyfriend.”

your eyes widen. “b-but—”

“ah-ah. no buts. say it or i won’t let you cum.”

you loved your boyfriend. you did! but anakin just made you feel so, so good…

“love you more than my boyfriend,” you moan quietly, closing your eyes in shame.

“‘m sorry, what? i didn’t catch that.” he grinned teasingly.

“ani,” you whine, “don’t be like that.”

he laughs. “all right, all right. cum for me, doll.”

author’s note;

i have never written smut like this before. please have mercy on me 😭😭

[mayhemspreadingguy]

Lost boys

[ddejavvu]

Mei! You know how sometimes when you put a bra on that has padding you sometimes have to adjust it a little? I feel like Anakin would see reader do that one time and offer to “help” from then on “to make sure it’s in the proper spot” but really it’s just to touch your boobs.

You're not surprised to feel a large palm pressing against the heft of your breast, and you wish you could say you're disappointed, but you're not. That doesn't mean that you can't act like you are, though.

"Anakin."

"I'm helping!" He insists, his voice thick with sleep but fiery with intensity, "I'm rearranging the foam thing in there."

"The pad?"

"Yeah, the pad. I'm rearranging the pad."

"The pad is in perfect position," You swat his hand away, "Thank you very much."

"Gimme the other one," He demands, palm flat and fingers curling and uncurling, "I'm the bra inspector."

"You're a perv," You accuse, taking advantage of his still-closed eyes to reach over and press his face into the pillow. Perhaps you shouldn't be smothering him so early in the morning, but you're admittedly a little jealous that he gets to sleep in and you have to work.

His reflexes may be slowed by his grogginess but his muscles aren't, and he wrestles your hand away from his face and uses it to yank you back down onto the bed. You go from towering over his sprawled out form to being pinned beneath it, and his victory spoils come in the form of a prompt squeeze to your previously untouched breast.

"Mm-mm. Pad's all wrong." He laments, clicking his tongue sympathetically as he settles his hand over your chest, "It's so bad I think we just need to scrap the whole thing. Take it off?"

"The pad is fine!" You laugh, but Anakin's lithe fingers have already slipped into the gap between layers of fabric to yank the foam pad out of your bra. He's quick to slip it down the front of his pajama pants, grinning smugly at you as he leans back with tousled hair against the headboard of your bed.

"Hey!"

"Take it."

"I have more bras," You huff, stripping off the lopsided bra and digging in your drawers for the others, "I'm gonna be late for work, Anakin!"

You expect a groan of defeat from Anakin but it's cheekiness you hear instead, "They're empty."

"What?"

He's right. There's a distinct lack of form in each piece of fabric laying limp in your drawers.

"Anakin!"

"I'll give them back! Just let me put them in," He grins doggedly, "Deal?"

"Only because I'm late for work," You gripe, glaring at him with all the force you can muster even though you're beginning to flush.

"Liar," His eyes gleam with excitement as he lunges for the drawer beside his bed, withdrawing two foam bra pads from within, "Once I get my hands on you you'll be begging me not to stop."