forever--darling - Tumblr blog

[forever--darling]

summary: after three years spent away from home because of nasty divorce between your parents, you finally come back & realize that this time you might not be able to keep sam monroe away any longer.

pairings: sam monroe x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of past feelings, mentions of childhood trauma, divorce, daddy issues, allusions to sex

masterlist

There was a lot of things you could attest to even only at twenty-one. After experiencing everything you had under one roof, it wasn’t hard not to grow up fast. To learn just how horrible it is loving someone because of what it can do to you. Something that still remained true even if both of your parents remarried because everything still sounded the same within that forsaken house.

The walls spoke the same languages that your parents would as they whispered, which eventually would become yelling. The indents still lingered with chipped paint near where your height marks resided in the doorframe. It was just as it had been at six and then eleven. Yet at twenty-one, having come home for the first time in over three years, to a house that now only is full of your father’s stuff, it only felt more vacant. More sad and debilitating. 

Your sister never seemed to really accept any of that though, instead choosing to ignore it in favor of the free meals your father cooked or the platinum credit cards he would hand over. Something you were sure would pass along to you as well, anything to try and make you forget it all. But you didn’t. You couldn’t. 

Which was why you still hadn’t ever been in a relationship, let alone ever hangout with anyone long enough to form an attachment. It was the only real reason you had never made a move on Sam Monroe when you were seventeen and in high school. Even as you both sat on a dusty couch littered with weed and beer in some abandoned basement. Even as he stared at you the way he had from behind, the black eyeliner and shadow, blue eyes practically undressing you, almost pulling you forward by a string. You had been a little high and a lot drunk, and yet, you still couldn’t. Not even after having had a crush on him for well over three years. Three years and you left that basement without one kiss or his fingers even tracing along the inside of your underwear. 

Seventeen and even then you couldn’t let yourself like someone let alone get to the point of loving them. 

So, how would it be any different? Sam Monroe stood in front of you that afternoon, under the hot sun, just outside the new house he and his father had built. Sweat stuck to his shirt, dark hair still present but void of blue dye. His piercings were there but left empty, and you couldn’t see any makeup. It hadn’t even looked like him at first. 

But it was, and the shirt gave him away, that in the way your stomach immediately clenched, the familiarity of him enough to make you fall back into that last summer spent in that town before you left for college. 

“Y/N?” his voice was deep, deeper than you had remembered, a sudden twang of confusion filling your ears as he processed your presence. 

Standing in your father’s driveway, boxes scattered at your feet, hair pulled back messily out of your face, and beads of sweat appearing along your shoulders and neck. Still beautifully you. 

“Sam, hi!” 

You were just as surprised as him. Even more so as he seemed so different and yet still completely Sam; just taller, broader, even more like his father than you were expecting. 

“You’re here.” 

It sounded so much more like a question than a statement. 

“Yeah.” 

“Like you’re here in your dad’s driveway.” 

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes.” 

“It’s been three years.” 

You stiffened, feeling as if your bones would break like they really did feel how long it had been and how much time had passed. It really had been that long. “I know. It’s been a while.” 

“Too long, really,” he admitted, and somehow it had never sounded so charming before than it had then. That sudden shock seemed to melt away, and what only remained was a softness you hadn’t seen in him before. A teasing smile appeared as he took you in again. 

You felt the lump appear in your throat, somehow matching the tightness in your chest. It was only Sam who could ever make you feel that way, even after three years. 

“How are you?” he asked, stepping forward, his hand extending almost as if he wanted to touch you, possibly pull you into him. You didn’t know, but some part of you wished it would be the latter. A part of you craved a touch you had never met before. 

“I’m good. Really good, actually.” 

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, enough to stain your cheeks with a newfound pink. “How in that time did you manage to grow up?” 

“Me?” you giggled, pushing him lightly, your fingers lingering where they touched his forearm, “Look at you.” 

He chuckled, that glint evident as ever, “What about me?” 

“You have a house, Monroe. An actual house that I’m sure you pay taxes on with a job.” 

“Yes.” 

“And college?” 

“Online classes, yeah,” he confirmed and you coudn’t deny the wide smile that appeared. 

Almost like a swell of pride had formed — a sudden amazement that he really had done it proved everyone wrong in that fucking town. 

“That’s great, Sam. It really is,” you smiled, that urge to touch him again appearing, but it somehow waned at the thought, “I was sorry to hear about your dad.” 

He cleared his throat, the light diminishing but only briefly as his eyes danced across yours, almost trying to find something in them, “Yeah, thanks.”

“I can’t assume it was easy.” 

“No.” 

“I wish we could’ve been here for the funeral. I wanted to, but my professors wouldn’t let me reschedule my exams.” 

“It’s okay, I understand. Both your parents sent very kind letters to us. I really appreciated them.” 

You nodded, not knowing a response to it other than you should have done more. Texted, called, or tried to come back earlier, earlier than now, when you were only moving home for the summer. It was Sam. The way you felt about him was everything, really. Yet you were too consumed in the comfort of the distance and hiding. That was what you had focused on for so long. 

Your head bowed, eyes unable to meet his, instead finding comfort in his sambas, and the green grass. Inhaling, you glanced up at the house. The house you never even saw complete until then. You took it in. “It truly is a beautiful house. You guys did a great job.” 

“Yeah I think so too. Plus, it looked like it needed an adult to live in it.” 

You looked back at him, the teasing demeanor having completely taken over his expression in the form of dark knitted brows and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Adult?” 

“Yes, since you think I’m so grown up.” 

“You are, and I never thought I would see the day, Monroe. But, it seems I have.” 

“It seems so. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N is home.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed, somehow feeling a small sliver of the universe realign. Perhaps by the way he was looking at you or the reality that would become of you because of him. Feelings you were sure never really left in the first place. “I will say not much has changed around here. Well, except for one thing.”

His brows furrowed, lip lifting in interest as you took in his clean face. 

“The black eyeliner. I'm not lying when I say I might miss it.” 

“Really?” he chuckled. 

“Yeah, it was totally working.” 

“Working?”

You nodded, a teasing look of your own apparent, “Yeah. It was hot. Hm, just never thought you would be so different.” 

“Different?” he scoffed, the words somehow completely wrong as they left your lips, “I’m not that different, Y/N. I’m still me.” 

“Right,” you nodded, eyes following how his chest rose and fell, the t-shirt alone catching your attention, the bright yellow words somehow something you would expect to be said, “Well, I’m glad some things stayed the same.”

He smirked, following my gaze to the front of his shirt. It was black with bright yellow bolded writing which said, ‘I’m good in bed. I can sleep all day.’  The same type of fucking shirt that seventeen-year-old him would wear, seeming unable to part from the looks he would get when people would read them. 

“God, you wore stupid shirts like this all the time.” 

“Hey! I find them pretty funny. They’re charming if anything.” 

“Charming?” you laughed, the word fitting Sam exactly though you were sure no other girl would have described it that way back then. “It can only be charming if it’s true.” 

“True?” 

“Yes,” you replied, the word a mere mumble as you truly noted how it felt with him standing so close, looming over you. 

“Well, how about you can be the one to decide if it’s charming. Let you tell me if I am good in bed or not. Would make for an interesting summer, wouldn’t it?”

You knew then you were fucked. So completely and inevitably because you had waited that long. Since you were seventeen sitting in that hot gross basement, him only a few inches from you. You had waited, and suddenly Sam seemed so much more tantalizing, enough so you would maybe give in. Just this once.

[forever--darling]

request: and for anakin I love the idea of how he comforts his girl. hugs, nicknames, cuddling together.

summary: being in the midst of a war came with many problems, but you had never accounted for the possibility of your general anakin skywalker being one of them, especially when a specific nurse seems to be all over him

pairings: general!anakin x jedi!reader

word count: 2.7k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of war, mentions of death, jealous!reader, fluff, mentions of sex, 501st clone trooper battalion, forbidden love

masterlist

It appeared almost out of thin air, like a billowing blow that seemed to almost knock you on your ass. It was worse than the battle you somehow had survived only a few hours before, sure to be stuck in the same predicament again soon. After all, when in an active warzone, it was always the reality, the scenery unable to escape but practically tattooed across your skin. It was means for disaster, of a bleakness that was sure to leave you depressed at night as you lay awake listening to the constant gunfire and screams from men and women meeting their fates. 

That deserves your full attention, your care, and yet something else had appeared. It made you feel guilty, like a horrible person, at the way your heart tightened and ached. How had it come to be? 

This thick grimy green monster that had latched upon your shoulders, interfering with the only mission you had been focused on for months. When you were assigned to the 501st Clone Trooper Battalion, you hadn’t even thought of the possibility, the mere ability to let your guard down, have it risk ruining everything. And yet there you were, in complete inept with your General, with a man you had been pulled towards as if the force was willing it to occur. 

You wished then you could have run, somehow been taken captive, at least to save your heart from falling into the same fate. Captive she was, but not by the Separatist enemies; no, it was so much worse. It jeopardized everything it meant to be a Jedi, a knight, a warrior of the Republic. 

It appeared, and now suddenly, it was all you could feel. Even more so as you found her delicate hands brushing along his bicep, eyes surveying the minimal cuts that littered his perfect skin, mixing within the dirt. Blood dried, but marks that would remain for most likely the rest of his life. As she did her job, you surveyed from the corner of the tent, the large tan tent you had spent a few nights in yourself, staring at the ceiling as a lamp crowded the darkness in the softest of golden light. 

It felt diminished in some way as her eyes, so doe-like, innocent, unwilling to be caught up in a war, stared up at him through her lashes. A blush appeared on her cheeks, the same soft pink that you had so clearly seen even that first day when she had met him. She was smitten with the general, and you had never cared, and yet at that moment, you felt the rage swell in your chest. 

He wasn’t paying attention, not to the way she oggled him or the small smile that appeared every time she noted the muscles of his bicep. He was too busy staring down at the latest casualty report one of the other soldiers had brought to him. It was long, at least five pages, three pages longer than it had been for most of the course of the time you had been here. Names and ranks littering them, sure to fade into the road of forgotten ones, only to be kept alive by the mark they left on wherever they came from. 

Your chest ached then for a moment at the thought, but it only hardened further as you heard the nurse’s soft voice fill the tense air of the tent. “General Skywalker, I was told you experienced some impact that was quite severe along your abdomen. I’m afraid I’ll have to take a look.” 

His blue eyes snapped up to hers, that stone-coldness commonly there met her kind ones, and you hated how your stomach turned involuntarily. You huffed slightly, brows knitting in so much anger. His glare flickered over to you, but only for a second, barely surveying your stiff posture. 

He sighed then, almost of disappointment, before nodding, “Make it quick, will you?” 

“Of course,” she replied, almost too enthusiastic. 

Anakin peered back down at the list of his soldiers, but his face hardened again as the nurse cleared her throat awkwardly. He looked back up at her. 

“I’m going to need you to remove your clothing, sir.” 

He didn’t look at you again, and you felt your arms drop in defeat. You were crazy; you knew that much, but it didn’t stop you from turning on your heels and storming out of the tent. He had asked you there to go over some details of the battle, and yet the five minutes you spent standing there had you feeling so out of place even though you had spent the night there two nights before. He was silently staring down at the reports for the entirety of those few minutes, but you couldn’t care, and you couldn’t stay. Too blindsided by the anger that filled your chest, eliciting your veins on fire from the sudden rush of your blood going straight to your balled fists. 

It was something that could surely wait because you were too afraid.

Afraid if you stayed any longer, you would do something that would have the nurse talking, sure to have the rest of the troop and brigade in a state of knowing. Sure, to go back to the Republic, then you both would be in trouble because, after all, Jedi had responsibilities, a code to follow, and work to do. And attachments weren’t allowed, even in a state of sadness, even in the darkest places where it’s the only form of comfort to have. 

You found the only way to really deal with this sudden feeling that seemed to consume you was to take it out on anything you could. It was why you had gone and trained, your lightsaber stretched out, meeting the clashes of another soldier you commonly fought with. Your blows were more forceful, fueled by the sudden rush of feelings you hadn’t known you could even feel. You hated it, the way it seemed to never fade, never fall to the back of your mind even as hours passed. Instead, only the images of her possibly tracing his bare chest and stomach with her fingers remained. 

It was hours upon hours of training, trying to tire yourself into a state of exhaustion, even with the possibility of having to go off into battle at any moment. You couldn’t care, knowing this had to be gone when that time finally came. Not only for your survival, for the mission but to keep him from ever knowing. 

General Anakin Skywalker, the chosen one, the professed hero of this war, could never know. Never know of the sudden feelings that had befallen you. 

That night, you stood in your own tent, far smaller than the General’s, you were getting ready to sleep. Bathed as well as you could manage, you were bundled in clean robes, ready to succumb to the darkness of sleep; it somehow more comforting than being awake. However, as soon as you were ready to do so, a soldier appeared at your door with a message.

“The General requests your presence.” 

It had taken all day, hours, for Anakin to ask for you, to seem willing to want to talk to you, and that seemed to enrage you all over again. Perhaps, he enjoyed the comforts of the innocent nurse warming his bed rather than you. Perhaps she was some sort of light, untouched by the true grit and devastation of war, having never truly left the camp. She had not met death, had not drained life from someone so carelessly. You, on the other hand, were tainted, left in a wallowing sense of pain that only others could understand who had watched death parade day in and day out. 

Yet he had called for you, as he did most nights, but you didn’t go. 

You couldn’t. 

Something you had never done. Something no one had ever done. When the General requested you, you went, no questions asked, and yet your feet were glued to the ground. 

A half-an-hour later, it seemed he became tired of waiting because he had appeared in your doorway, the tent falling closed enough that not even a sliver of the outside world could see inside. He stood in clean black tunics, grime washed free from his delicate features, but that stern look was still apparent. 

He was so breathtaking, like sin itself. 

“I called for you,” he said, voice breaking the air, sounding demanding. 

You stood, fingers carding through your hair, pulling free a knot, back turned towards him. “Did you?” 

His furrowed look only deepened, somehow confused if the message had gotten to you or if you had chosen to ignore it, “Yes, hours ago.” 

“Hm, it seems I must have forgotten.” 

He could hear the spite in your tone, it unable to be hidden. He became frustrated at that point, “Forgotten?” 

Stepping further into the tent, he approached and you felt his presence seem to wrap around you completely, leaving your heart an aching mess. “You don’t merely forget. When your general fucking requests you, you come. Do you understand me, Y/L/N.” 

You turned then, anger palpitating, sure to burst any second as you thought of just how much you were suffering. Your knitted brows met his glare intact, “I was merely giving you time, sir. Time for you to recover, have your wounds tended to.” 

It seemed your words, paired with the spite in your tone, revealed something to him because suddenly his expression was waning, collapsing in on itself into one of wonder. A single brow raised, lips almost lifting in a smirk. His hard exterior disappeared, the General in him no longer there, but only Anakin himself. The true twenty-one-year-old man he was. 

“Seriously?” he chuckled then, spotting how your chest rose and fell in frustration. 

“What?” you spat.

He seemed to be enjoying it, evident in the way his smile only widened, a look of pure amusement appearing. “I wasn’t sure at first if I was imagining it, but damn it seems I haven’t.” 

He had caught on, you realized then. You were unable to truly hide it, not when the fear filled you of what exactly this could mean. Caring for a man this much who you were sure to never see again one way or another when this war ended. Sighing, you turned away again, unable to face him. 

“You can’t just call me whenever you need a woman to nestle yourself into, Anakin.” 

It seemed your words had pulled all air of the room, the amusement he felt somehow falling away at the way your shoulders slumped into themselves. “Y/N.” 

You couldn’t reply then, too shocked, too afraid to. 

“Baby,” he corrected himself, the name only heard at night under the stars. You hated how it felt paired with the way his hands took hold of your arms, turning you to face him again. 

You couldn’t meet his stare though, instead focusing on his shoes. 

“Look at me.” 

You denied him again. 

“Look. At. Me.” This time, his thumb and forefinger took a hold of your chin raising it so your eyes were forced to meet his, the blueness the only comfort you had found in this life. He chuckled again, “You’re cute when your mad.” 

“This isn’t funny.” You huffed then, willing to push him away but his hands stopped you, taking a firm hold of your wrists. 

“Oh, but it is. You’re so clearly jealous.” 

The word awoke something in you, because you felt your glare appear in a moment of defense. “I am not.” 

“Are you sure about that?” he goaded and you felt your entire resolve crack, it so easy when his hands traced down your sides to your hips. They rested there comfortably.

A side only you got to see of the general somehow convincing enough. 

“Does it always have to be her?” you asked then, letting it all out, “I mean, every time a nurse is requested to check you over after you return from the front, it is always her. Every fucking time, and she isn’t good at hiding it either. She is so fucking obvious with how she looks at you. How she even touches you. It’s…”

“Not anything to be worried about,” he finished then, his hand coming up to cup your cheek softly. 

Your eyes met his and softened them almost immediately. 

“You really think that I would do that to you? To us?” 

“I don’t know what to think, Anakin.”

“Why is that?”

“This is wrong, and you know it. If the Council found out, what would come of you? Of me? It seems like a lot to risk just for sex.” 

“Just sex? Since when have I ever given you that impression?” 

You couldn’t answer, somehow feeling as if the weight of the world would crush you if you did. It was all too much once again. How you felt about him, about this predicament of life that had befallen you.

“You were never and have never been just sex to me. You must know that. The way that I feel is…” 

He trailed off as if trying to find the words, find how to say the exact things he had promised himself never to say, because of the code, of his Master, of fear of what would become of him. Leaning forward, his forehead met yours, and suddenly, you could only squeeze your eyes shut, breathing unevenly. 

“When I go out on the front every fucking day, when I have to leave everything else behind to ensure that I am giving everything to these men, to this mission, to the prophecy, one thing still remains. The only comfort I have in all of this is returning so I can see you. Living for the possibility of hugging you, seeing you, kissing you. When I first convinced you to fall into my bed, it was never just for sex. It was because I felt as if you could save me. Save me from the darkness that looms too close to my heart most days.” 

“Anakin,” you whispered in disbelief, in an ache of how much you truly cared, possibly loved this man. 

“You’re the future, the only future I can focus on day in and day out. So understand when I say you have nothing to worry about. No nurse, no other woman, could take the place of that, okay?” 

You nodded, eyes squeezed shut, trying to will the tears away, so desperately hoping they wouldn’t fall in front of him. You couldn’t let them, evident in the way your hands dug into his shoulders, as if afraid of him walking away. Leaving you as you always thought he would one day. Instead, he held you back just as tightly, his forehead pressed along yours.

You heard him chuckle again, though, remembering why you had been so upset. “I still think you’re cute when you’re jealous.” 

You couldn’t help it, not as your own laugh appeared, the tears falling then as you opened your eyes to meet his kind and loving stare. “She was all over you.” 

“I’ll make a note to ask for another nurse then. Or even better, ask that you are the one to take care of me. That way, you can be the one all over me.” 

You smiled, that ache falling away, somehow being buried back where it came from. Simply cured by the man before you. How inevitably screwed you were one way or another. 

“Now, can your general request you to his tent? Or are you going to deny him of that for the second time today?”

What were you ever to do? Compassion is one thing Jedi acted upon, something so completely unable to be avoided, and Anakin Skywalker had practically laid himself out to you. There was no way not to fall inexplicably for a man. No possibility or other life where you couldn’t have loved him. Especially when you didn’t know if you would be alive tomorrow.

[forever--darling]

Hi sweet girl , I want to tell you that your me & the devil fic is one of my favorites and one of the best I'm reading. For me Anakin x reader is perfection 💗.

I don't know if I'm being too ambitious but in blurb ideas I have one for Hayden and one for Anakin. I would like it to be fluffy.

From Hayden it could be something like : How is an outing with him ? ( I love how homey he is ) . Cooking together , watching movies in his living room while cuddling . Him giving that charming smile he has .

And for Anakin I love the idea of how he comforts his girl . Hugs , nicknames , cuddling together .

summary: a night staying in, resulting in getting high, has you unable to focus on the idea of sex when you're too busy laughing & realizing the extent of your feelings

pairings: hayden christenson x young!reader

word count: 1.0k

warnings/notes: age!gap (reader in mid-twenties), mention of weed/getting high, fluff, honeymoon phase af, mentions of sex, mentions of anakin skywalker

p.s. to whoever requested this, I will be doing your second request as well sometime soon.

masterlist

Blue pupils stared back at you, up through the dim lighting of the bedside lamp. Slightly blown out, from the weed in his system or you, you weren’t sure. You couldn’t know as this wasn’t something the two of you ever did often, yet the sudden fire beneath your skin and the precious need to press your body close to his was something you craved. Perhaps, it was the way his lips felt along your collarbones, the sides of your neck, or how his warm hands, calluses in all, felt along the bareskin of your sides. Maybe it was just him in general, how much and how quickly you had found yourself wanting him. 

Or maybe it's just the drugs. 

The way they seemed to warp your senses, filling the air with some sort of stamina that left the particles buzzing and your breath astray. The music sounded quieter than it really was, but perhaps it was masked by the soft giggle that poured out freely. 

“What? What is it?” Hayden sighed, almost disappointed, his head lifting up from where his lips had been attached to your collarbone, kissing softly.

A quirk appeared in his brow, a teasing look in his eyes as he took in the way you appeared so perfectly pinned underneath him. His body on top of yours, legs parting yours, his weight light as they pushed you deeper into the mattress. 

Your laughter quit but only for a moment as you tried to explain just what was so funny to you in the first place, something that wouldn’t have been nearly as funny if you hadn’t smoked as much as you had. For not having done it in a while other than the edibles you had at least once a week, you had forgotten how much to inhale. 

“Nothing,” you said, trying to appear as serious as can be, a smile forming in a fine line as you met his stare. 

Your laugh burst out again, though, and your eyes crinkled shut, unable to stop the way the hormones attacked the neurons in your brain. 

“Right,” Hayden replied, narrowing his eyes playfully, the redness in them no doubt matching your own. “Clearly, it’s nothing if it has you laughing as much as you are.” 

You shook your head, hands automatically wrapping around his strong shoulders, fingers carding through the back of his hair almost like they had a mind of their own. The softness of the short curls had your heart bursting if that was even a feeling. 

“Seriously, tell me.” 

“I can’t.” 

“And why not?” he demanded, thumbs rubbing soft circles across your hips. 

“Because…” 

You were laughing again, and his head was falling, meeting your chest with ease, a sigh filtering out of his lips. 

“Baby,” he mumbled, lips pressed along your collarbone again, but this time no longer gracing them with the kisses you had come to love so much. Almost too much. 

“Fine, okay,” you gave in, laughter diminishing again to nothing but a soft chuckle, tears pricking your eyes as you tried to get the words out, “I was just thinking…” 

“Yeah?” 

“When you’ve hooked up with girls in the past, have they, ever, you know. Asked you to like dress up in costume?”

A deadpan look appeared on his face as his head lifted, eyes finding yours again, “What do you mean?” 

“Like, have they ever been mid-foreplay and straight out asked you if you can dress up as Anakin or Darth Vader?” 

“Where is this coming from?” he chuckled, too, lips lifting into that smile that somehow had convinced you to leave all the guys your age in the past. 

“Or have they asked you to pull out your lightsaber?” 

“Y/N,” he shook his head, mouth forming in an ‘o’, almost in surprise as you continued to laugh. “I’m trying to initiate sex here, and you’re laughing about if other girls have asked me to make their Star Wars sex fantasies a reality?”

“Well, yeah,” you replied, the tone almost accusatory tone as if it was something you would be asking, especially five hits later from the joint that was now stubbed out in the bathroom. 

“You’re ridiculous, you know that,” he laughed then, too, “Why, is that something you want? Do you want to know about my lightsaber?” 

“I mean, yeah, who wouldn’t,” you retorted, laughter falling away to complete seriousness.

 Staring down at him, you felt the silence lull, almost swallowing you whole as the realization appeared again, almost like a car hitting you out of nowhere. The realization that you had fallen for an older man, a man you hadn’t expected to ever want you back, to notice you the way he had. Worse, to love him as you did so quickly, so immensely was too much, too much to understand, to accept. 

Yet there you were, pinned beneath him, heart so full, so well-kept, hoping that it would stay close within his palms for the rest of time. 

That charming smile appeared then on his face, his eyes crinkling slightly, a certain sort of contentment appearing as if he had had a revelation of his own. Words were not enough in that moment, so evidently as he leaned up, connecting his lips with yours, softly, deeply as if he was trying to pour his very own breath into your being. 

You loved this man; that was inevitable. 

After a few seconds, he pulled back, only enough for his lips to depart from yours. That smirk of his still firmly sat along his face. “So, what are you saying? Do you want me to go grab my wardrobe from set? I’m sure you would really have something to laugh at then, wouldn’t you?” 

You loved this man, and you wanted him like this forever.

“Yeah, I would.” 

[forever--darling]

just read all of me and the devil I’ve never been so flabbergasted (in a good way) by a piece of work on here in a minute

aww, thank you.

another part is coming, I promise.

[forever--darling]

say yes to me

summary: anakin skywalker was like a forbidden fruit, the roommate to the guy that had been sleeping with your roommate for most of the school year. the very man who lived just down the hall from you & quite possibly the only man who was capable of silencing you, because he made you that nervous. you thought he had disliked you, despised you even, but it turns out when you lose one pair of red lacy underwear in the laundry room, that isn't quite the case.

pairings: anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 12.9k

warnings/notes: modern au, college!reader, SMUT, minors DNI, like actual filth, p & v, slight degradation, mentions of masturbation, slight enemies to lovers if you squint, dominant!anakin, public nudity (slightly), no protection mentioned (but please do use it), sorry not sorry, it had to be written.

masterlist

song inspo: lose face - daniel di angelo

Anakin Skywalker despised you. He did. He would never admit it. But it was the kind of disdain that had only appeared, almost bubbling over time since the very moment he met you, over your complete obliviousness when it came to him. Or it was more ignorance, perhaps. 

You ignored him. His existence, his looming eyes that seemed to filter over your frame whenever the two of you were in the same room together, which was often. Often since you lived in the same apartment building and your two roommates had been fucking since a few weeks into the new semester. He would have to endure your impending silence, your lack of awareness of him for hours on end, sometimes many days in a row. It was excruciating how much he disliked you. Disliked those who got your attention, even his roommate, because it was something you would never give him. 

At first, he didn’t think much of it. How could he? You were gorgeous and hot, his attraction something evident from the beginning, but you could barely exchange a few words with him, let alone meet his eyes if it ever was just the two of you in a room, this one more rare. You seemed shy. Innocent. Unwilling to be tainted by him. Something he could understand, even get behind. That is until he noticed the way you interacted with others.

You were a Pre-Law major, and Pre-Law majors couldn’t afford to be shy or even mute like you appeared around him. It was a surprise when he found you late on a Friday night in their apartment, where his roommate was hosting a party, surrounded by five guys playing cards. A drink sat in front of you, lipstick stains coating the glass in the most enticing of pinks. A low-cut top that was tight hugged your torso, making it hard for Anakin to hold in any physical sound.

You were ethereal at that moment as you tipped your head back, laughing, eyelashes batting with ease — innocence void from your lustful gaze. You were putting every one of those five guys in their place, practically pulling the cash out of their wallets from simply your tongue, all while you threw progressive law jargon their way. All of which he could understand easily, far smarter than he ever let on but it all went over their ungrateful heads. You were intelligent, so breathtaking, and completely squandering it on meatheads like the ones his roommate often interacted with, and he hated them. Hated them because you would never look at him the way you did them. 

Hated them because you seemed to despise him just as much as he did you, enough that your interactions were left to drown in the thickest silence. The kinds where his pants twitched, and he wished to force you against a wall, just so you would look at him, for once. It was all that he asked, to feel what it was like to have your eyes on his. To either face the itch he got for you head-on or come to terms that it was all in his head. That it all was manifested in the truest form of need; arousal. 

How could he though when your roommate was at his apartment a few nights a week? The last thing he needed was for her to glare at him, and take him to be some asshole with a weird obsession that lacked boundaries. He couldn’t live in that reality, not when he was so much nicer, even without the possibility of your legs wrapped around him. 

It didn’t mean it was easy. Truthfully it never was. 

Especially that afternoon as he found you parading around your apartment building’s halls, laundry basket in hand, headphones pulled over your ears. It was actually almost painful. The way your loose university sweatpants hugged low on your waist, rolled once, dipping enough that he was able to see your naval piercing. Your shirt was small, a tanktop that left little to his imagination, especially your perky nipples that stuck out enough he noticed them right away. Your hair was pulled back by a clip, but a few pieces framed your face, and even that alone frustrated him. Frustrated him that you walked around like that, almost to torture him, almost oblivious to how you looked. 

It seemed you were just as oblivious about his presence, evident in the way you walked into the laundry room on their floor, mouthing the words of the song you were listening to, hips swaying far too much, but blind to the fact that he was in the room too. Or you knew and just didn’t care. That was something he could believe, a hundred times. 

He stood a few machines away from yours, pulling his clean laundry out from the washer to put in the dryer. His eyes flickered over to your form every few seconds. It seemed to be something he couldn’t help, unable to stop the way his blue irises traced the skin along your waist and how there was nothing but a thin shirt that separated your chest from him. He knew he shouldn’t be looking at you that way. If it was anyone else, it could have been creepy, but because it was him.

You hadn’t even looked his way, your eyes never gracing his form as being the one in the room and not just another guy from the floor. Anakin was sure, though, that if it had been anyone else, you would have acknowledged them. He hated how much he thought of it. Hated how much you hated him. 

“Fuck,” he whispered, the word unable to slip as he saw you from the corner of his eye, bending over just enough to grab your dry laundry from the dryer. 

He hated how he wasn’t in front of you or behind you for the view but rather just witnessing from the side of you the way your shirt loosened around your frame enough that he could have been able to see down your shirt. He was able to see the back material of your underwear hugging your hips, though. The thinness of it taunting like it could have snapped under one flick from his fingers. 

You pulled your laundry out, slowly, almost purposefully dropping it in your laundry basket. It only took a minute or two but it felt longer when you finally stood closing the dryer door, with your laundry basket now balancing along your hip. You turned, and yet your eyes never found his, never once acknowledging his form there standing near the washer. 

He hated how his chest tightened, the way his brows furrowed in frustration because you were likely avoiding him. Without a word ever spoken, a second of some sort of acknowledgment, though you could have been sitting in his apartment later that evening, you turned towards the door. You walked out, the door falling shut before you. 

Anakin sighed, his hip leaning against the side of the washer as he stared at the spot you were once standing. His brows were still furrowed, but they relaxed, lifting instead as he noticed the left behind bright red garment on the floor. He smirked almost devishly then as he strode across the laundry floor, bent over and plucked it from the floor. 

He tutted softly then, hating himself for how he clutched the thin piece of lace underwear in his hand like it was a lost treasure. 

The apartment was dark all but for the overhead lights in the kitchen and the candles that decorated the countertop. You sat in your room, almost encompassed by darkness other than the sunset lamp on your windowsill and the lamp on your nightstand. You sat back against your pillows, university sweatpants loose along your waist, revealing most of your stomach as you stared at your phone, unable to stop yourself as you scrolled. 

Harrison had posted a picture, one from the other night when the guys had gone out for drinks. Of course, he had been there. Anakin Skywalker. You almost let out a noise at the sight of him in the picture alone. It was embarrassing. Embarrassing how you stared at it for at least a minute, and even worse when you clicked on his profile name that was tagged. Something that happened more often than it should. 

Your stomach tightened as the familiar page appeared, his profile picture enough to have your legs tightening involuntarily. It was easy to say that he was breathtaking, or perhaps the devil himself, because of just how tempting he truly was. From the way his short curls brushed along the back of his neck, the front swept out of his eyes, or his strong jaw that seemed to always appear clenched unless it was just always that sharp. His eyes. Oh god, those were the worst of all. The blue hues that you swore could burn holes into your very being. The sole reason you couldn’t even meet his gaze; not if you didn’t want him to know. 

Know about your secret attraction that actually had you aching most nights. Nights where you couldn’t help but have your hands dip in between your legs, with him being the only one on your mind, the only voice you conjure up. It was unholy. It was wrong on so many levels, how much you wanted this man, so much so, you became mute when he appeared. 

You were a fumbling idiot around him and you never had been with anyone else. Usually, you were the one who would make them squirm, but with Anakin, you found yourself dripping with a need you had never had before. It didn’t help that he was so fucking quiet, unable to say or initiate anything unless it was his eyes somehow taunting you. It was like he didn’t like you, unable to really say much if he wanted to keep the peace. 

It was torture then as you were left to do nothing but stare and scroll aimlessly on his Instagram. 

It was stupid how he was just as perfect in real life. Not a single fault to be had. Even as he stood in the laundry room that afternoon in nothing but a t-shirt and sweatpants, it had you forcibly clenching your legs shut. The way his shirt hung on his frame was still tight enough to show his muscles underneath. It was casual in a way, something you would only notice if you looked hard enough, which you tended to always do. 

There was nothing to do except act as if he wasn’t there, grab your laundry from the dryer as quickly as you could, and leave before he could say anything before it became too much that you felt like spreading your legs for him right then and there. 

As you scroll down to the previous August and a shirtless picture of him in a boat appears, you couldn’t take it. You shut your phone off, dropped it onto your bed, and fell back against your pillows. Sighing, you stared up at the ceiling hating the bloom of warmth that was appearing in your chest. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” the knock on your bedroom door had you looking over, already expecting the view before you. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

Your roommate stood in your doorway in her shower robe, towel wrapped around her head, concealing her pale blonde hair. Her freshly spray-tanned skin glowed after her shower. As you looked over at her, she raised her brows at you, curiosity appearing.

“Nothing,” you shrugged, stiffening as she glanced at your phone left faced down on your bed. 

She hummed almost in interest but decided not to comment on it, instead taking in your appearance, still dressed in the clothes you had been in for the day as you cleaned the apartment and did your laundry, “Well then, that’s the problem. Girl, we have to be there in an hour.” 

“It’s seriously ten steps down the hall,” you rolled your eyes, “I think we can be late. Why are we going anyway?” 

“Because it’s Saturday night and he invited us.” 

“I know, but we could be going out.” 

“Why so you can go home with someone?” she asked, catching onto the heavy sight that left your parted lips. 

You felt your tongue catch along your teeth and unable to defend yourself, Iris smiled, a laugh emitting with ease as a smirk appeared. 

“That’s so funny,” she noted, so amused by your obvious frustrations, “You know there are going to be guys there.” 

“New guys?” you asked sitting up then with new-found interest, “Not like all of the ones at Harrison’s last party?”

“Well, that I can’t know for sure. You were flirting with at least four of them while you were playing cards. You know, Harrison doesn’t have that many friends, right? So every time one of them is attractive and tries to have sex with you, it’s not like he can go out and find three new ones right away. I’m sure some of them will be there, yes.” 

“Fuck.” 

“But, you know, Anakin will also be there. Apparently, it was his idea for them to throw another one tonight. So, if you want to talk to him,” her voice slowed like she realized what she was saying as it echoed in her ears. 

“Iris…” 

“What?” she laughed, “Maybe if you just talk to him, you’ll realize you don’t have to go and click through his Instagram so much.” 

“Iris!” you gasped, face already beginning to twinge with heat. 

She chuckled, but that quieted at the sight of your embarrassment. If it was any other day, she would say more, but she had had that conversation with you so many times before. It would only sound the same. “What? Right, sorry, anyway, I think Harrison did tell me he invited some guys on his club soccer team. So, I guess you can talk to them.” 

You huffed then, knowing that there was one reason you didn’t want to go the apartment down the hall, even if they did throw the best parties. “It’s just we are always there. Almost every weekend. I miss the bars. We’re legal, which means we should use them.”

“What’s wrong?” she questioned almost immediately, that furrowed look returning. 

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“You never don’t want to go to the guys’. In fact, sometimes you’re the one who suggests it, especially if they are throwing a party.” 

You were quiet, struggling to find an excuse, anything, as the thought of Anakin Skywalker flashed across your head, the picture of him shirtless still very much the screen that would appear when you unlocked your phone.

“Y/N. Speak. If this is about Anakin Skywalker, I swear—”

“I just thought something else could be fun, that’s all,” you shrugged. 

Her expression faltered slightly. She and Harrison weren’t even officially dating, and still, the thought of not seeing him that night pulled all the excitement out of her. You knew then you wouldn’t be getting your way. “I mean, we can. I would just have text the girls and tell them that—” 

“No, it’s fine. I’ll get dressed,” your voice cut hers off, a sheepish smile appearing, knowing that you had just doomed yourself for the rest of the night. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled, it slightly fake, dread appearing in your stomach, “As long as we don’t go early and we have  a round of shots when get there.”

The hallway was dim, the low lights not as bright as usual, the beige walls seeming to be the only thing able to hold your attention as you trailed after Iris, your hands nervously fiddling with one another. Sometimes you were lucky, as Anakin was not always at the parties his roommate liked to host. Other times, he would show up late, allowing you to settle and drink lots of alcohol to prepare for his presence. And rarely he never showed up at all or was there from the beginning. Tonight would be the latter, and you weren’t ready. 

Even with the two drinks heavily poured with vodka, you felt unsteady, anxious, and warm. It was like the further you walked down the hallway, the more the walls seemed to warp within your mind into a funhouse. It was as if you were high on something, distorting your sense of reality, but really, it was just your heart beating so loudly in your ears and the lack of dinner getting to you. 

You couldn’t eat, not as you paced around your room, half of your closet thrown onto the floor, one drink already leaving rings of water on your coaster upon your desk. It was humiliating. Actually, the worst thing to ever happen to you, as no man had ever done this to you. They couldn’t. It seemed impossible, and yet there you were, acting like a blithering idiot who would surely remain throughout the night until you were too drunk to notice. 

“Y/N, you’re walking slower than my grandma here,” Iris called behind you, stopping near the guys’ door, a chuckle echoing off the walls mixing with the sound of the loud music inside. 

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled back, trying to speed up but almost feeling as if you would fall with how much your legs were shaking. 

“Are you even going to talk to the guy?” she suddenly asked, turning to face you fully, her hands on her hips and a single brow raised. 

“W-What?” 

“Anakin. Are you going to talk to him tonight, finally? Or is this just how you’re going to act about seeing him.” 

You sighed, her words registering, making you question truly what you were so nervous about, “Iris, I…” 

“Look, if you want to talk to him, that’s fine, but if you’re just like this because he is going to be there, you need to take a second and breathe. Y/N, he’s just a guy. That’s it. A guy you don’t even talk to, trust me when I say he is not that special. You’ve spent enough time in the same room as him to know that.” 

“Right,” you whispered, suddenly finding your shoes more interesting to stare at as you felt your roommate speak. The heat in your face was only worsening, “He’s just a guy.” 

He was, and yet he drove you crazy. 

It was disappointing to find that Iris had to be the one to remind you of that when you had spent the past two years of college seeming to be the one always reminding her of that. You were the one who seemed to understand men, especially idiotic man-child twenty-something-year-olds, and yet here you stood in the hallway of your apartment complex, her finally being the one to give you the reminder. 

Sure, Anakin Skywalker was just a man. 

A twenty-one-year-old man who was quite possibly carved from the most expensive and luxurious marble and gold. He dressed in baggy jeans and warm sweaters, some of which seemed to be designer. He was quiet, unfunny at times, and was so frustrated all of the time. He wasn’t perfect, yet he seemed better than any of the guys you had liked in the past. The loose term was not used often. 

“Just a guy,” she smiled, keeping her sarcasm on lockdown as she reached for your forearm and began to drag you towards the door, “I have never seen you like this.” 

“Like what?” you asked, lowering your voice further as you stood outside of the door, confusion-filled gaze meeting her curious one. 

“You this obsessed.” 

“I am not obsessed,” you glared, finding your chest to tighten in discomfort at the thought. 

“Fine. I just mean, usually you don’t care. You never have, and somehow he has you sweating and unable to speak coherently.” 

“It’s not like that.” 

“Okay, well, whatever it’s like, it’s cute,” she laughed, it only getting louder as you bumped her side with your own, almost begging for her to stop. “You’ve never acted like this over a guy.”

“Are we going to fucking stand out here all night, or are we going to go inside?” you asked rather flatly, not caring how it sounded as long as it meant she would stop staring at you the way that she was. 

She only smirked, nothing else left to say as your face said at all. The gentle blush on your cheeks, the way you were trying to avoid eye contact, most of your confidence waning as you stood there, outside of that apartment door. 

Shrugging, she finally reached for the doorknob and opened the door with ease. The second the door was cracked, the music became increasingly louder, enough to make you cringe at the way the bass echoed in your ears. Usually, you welcomed it; the sound, the smell of cigarettes and marijuana, the stickiness on the floors by the end of the night, the way you always stumbled your way back to your apartment only a few feet away. It was a life you had gotten used to, and yet you dreaded it all that night. 

Iris stepped in with ease, and you followed, inhaling as you did with the smell of cigarettes hitting you straight in the face. Even with the windows open, allowing the winter air to bask in the room, it wasn’t enough to completely drown out the smell. I

t was dark in the apartment, all but the LED lights that hung up around the ceiling, paired with a spinning disco ball on the coffee table, which Harrison swore by every single time. 

There was maybe a total of ten people in the room so far, but you knew it wouldn’t be this easy to walk through by the end of the night. As soon as the door was shut behind you, concealing you both inside, it was like he had known she was there. All of a sudden, you heard Harrison’s loud voice from across the room, him standing from where he was leaning against his sound system. 

“Ah, you guys made it!” Harrison strode over in a pair of baggy jeans and a graphic t-shirt, his arms immediately finding Iris’ hips, giving away that he had already been drinking for a bit. “You’re later than I thought you were going to be.” 

“I texted you,” she mumbled, chuckling lightly. 

“I know, but…” his voice trailed off slightly, and his bluish-green eyes found your frame still almost pressed against the front door, and it was like he had connected the dots. “Y/N.” 

“Harrison, hi,” you smiled sheepishly while also trying to peer around him to the rest of the people that filled the living room, hoping but equally dreading catching sight of a head of short curls. 

“What, you didn’t want to come tonight?” 

He was joking, he always was, as he spun Iris around so her back was pressed to his front. You laughed, it so fake as you tried to hide it all but your roommate could see through you easily. “What? No. You're a funny guy, you know that? We always come to your parties.” 

“Yeah, but you’re usually one of the first ones here.” 

“Relax,” you rolled your eyes, “Clearly, we’re still here early enough. Great turnout.” 

“There are more people coming, asshole,” he laughed, pulling his hat by the brim down further across his forehead, concealing his blonde short, cropped hair.

“Oh yeah? Anyone worth talking to?” 

“You told her about the guys from my soccer team, didn’t you?” that question was directed down towards Iris, who suddenly peered up at her non-boyfriend boyfriend with both guilt and humor. 

“What?” she shrugged. 

His eyes found yours again, that playful look now filling yours, “They’ll be here in about an hour or so. Just can you try not to screw them over?” 

“Me?” you feigned a laugh, “I could never. How do I look, though? Something they would be interested in?” 

Doing almost a little curtsy with your Converse squeaking against their hardwood floor, you turned after a moment. Noting the baggy jeans and the black sheer tube top, Harrison laughed almost in disbelief but could only look over his shoulder towards his own roommate, who sat in the middle of their couch, legs sprawled out, head dipped back as he snubbed out the cigarette that was in between his fingers. “Hm, you know you could go ask Anakin? He has expensive taste.” 

You felt yourself freeze, hating the way they both laughed, equally looking back into the room. Following their gaze, you stiffened further as you found him, sure to be the only thing that you would focus on for the rest of the night. Especially if he were to be sitting that way for most of it. You felt like a deer in headlights as you peered over Harrison’s shoulder, eyes trailing over the way his legs were spread wide, his back leaned into the couch, and his head tilted back as he blew out rings of smoke. 

He wore dark jeans and a black knit-long sleeve; underneath the collar, his white t-shirt poked out. His hair was pushed back out of his face, and the curls along his neck and around his ears seemed perfect even in the dark. 

He would be the death of you.

Your mouth was dry, and suddenly, your fresh sarcasm was gone as he sat up against the couch, his stare almost splitting through the room to find the three of you. His expression was unreadable, almost cold, and you hated the way they found yours immediately.  

You looked away, aware of the way the other two were intently making notes about the interaction. Side-stepping into the kitchen out of eye-sight from the roommate, you glared back at Harrison, “I hate you.” 

“Nah, you don’t.” 

“I thought you said you were going to make me a shot when I got here.” 

“What do you want?” Harrison asked, his arms dropping around Iris, instead allowing his hand to find a place along her back, guiding her to follow him into the kitchen. 

“The strongest thing you got,” you suggested peering up at the masses of liquor upon the cabinets, a devilish look appearing in your eyes as you smiled innocently back at the man. 

He sighed that familiar Harrison sigh, the one where he knew there would be no stopping you that night, not as you came over with a box full of seltzers and a large handle of tequila. You were looking for trouble or perhaps something to ease the noise into nothing but silence within your mind. Either way, he couldn’t tell, and though Iris was looking at him, almost afraid to let him give you the shot that would start a very long night, she just shrugged anyway. 

A long night it would become. 

By the time it was eleven-thirty, the apartment was full of many familiar faces, the typicals you saw at almost every party, and then masses of the very unfamiliar. Some of them including Harrison’s very cute and very athletically-built soccer teammates. It had become your mission to catch at least one of their eyes quickly as if to avoid the looming stare from across the room that you were sure would have you dripping humiliatingly if you focused on him too long. 

When he moved, you did too. Further away, it seemed, anything to keep your distance, almost afraid of what you could say if given the chance to. The alcohol wasn’t enough because just knowing he was in the same apartment had you unable to think about anything or anyone else. Even when you were four seltzers deep and a quarter of the way through with the concoction that had become of your water bottle, Anakin Skywalker was all you could think about. 

It had been hours, hours of dancing awkwardly, avoiding the cards table, and yet you felt unaccomplished with the night. The ache between your legs was enough proof as it was, but you knew that couldn’t be taken care of by anyone unless it was Anakin. Even as the lanky soccer player with fluffy brown hair and bright eyes practically had you concealed against the wall in the living room, your mind was completely inept at what he was saying. 

He was hot, relatively, nothing like Anakin, but enough that you would have slept with him. His hands were ghosting over your waist, one tickling the bare skin above your jeans, the other leaning against the wall, caging you in against his warm frame. His eyes were hooded, a look in them you knew all too well, but one you were sure you wouldn’t act on. 

“You know, Harrison warned me about you,” he joked, it sounding so deep that his name somehow slipped from your mind, unable to be retrieved. 

Your lips were wrapped around the straw of your drink, eyes peering up at his through your lashes, and you couldn’t help but smile, almost like a tantalizing forbidden fruit. “Really? Is that so? And do you think you should have listened to him?” 

“No, not at all. That’s the funny part, I guess. Told me you would probably have your pick of us for the night.” 

Your smile lessened slightly as a discomfort appeared front and center within your chest. You flirted. That wasn’t something you would deny, but the way he was putting it made you feel like you were other girls that they talked to. Ready to offer themselves like a consolation prize by spreading their legs just to never be spoken to again. You flirted, but you never really gave them what they wanted, and that’s why Harrison was cautious about bringing new guys around. They would chase after something they’d never get, and you would string them along as a form of entertainment. Or that’s what he thought. 

It never had been like that, not even as guys started to notice you freshman year of college. It was never supposed to be a game but rather something else entirely. 

You shifted back towards the wall, eyes dropping to your cup, the way it was nearly empty, the last few drops clinging to the bottom of the glass. The guy spoke again, and you found your brows furrowing in discomfort. “I’m just glad it was me if I’m being honest.”

They always thought that way. That it was them. That they were something special, as if worthy of your attention, but it never was about them. 

You sighed, head falling back against the wall as his hand rose along your bare skin, almost inching to move up and under your shirt. A second of dissociation left you looking over his shoulder at the crowd of people around you, filling the living room to be full and packed. You scanned their faces trying to find anything that you knew could ground you. 

Instead, there was only one thing, one person, and it made it all so much worse. 

Peering through the room within the darkness of flashing vibrant lights and smoke, you somehow found him, only a few feet away or so. At the sight, it was almost like your legs were going to give out from beneath you. He would never not have an effect on you. It didn’t matter how stupid you felt, how humiliating it was. Inevitably, Anakin Skywalker would always have you wrapped around his finger. 

He was leaning against the wall near the sound system, surrounded by Harrison and a few of their other guy friends. His arms were crossed over his chest, arms bulging slightly under the material of his shirt. Smoke billowed around the group from cigarettes, vapes, and joints alike, yet his hands were empty. He wasn’t listening to anything they were saying. He couldn’t have been because, just as quickly as you found him, he was already peering over at you. 

His blue eyes, almost as sharp as steel as they traced your frame, pressed up against the wall under the soccer player, your drink cradled close to your chest. You almost physically shuddered, having not expected it, not in the slightest. His lips were pulled into a fine line, brows slightly furrowed in a way that made you want to ease the small wrinkle, pulling every frustration clean from his body. 

Yet you felt intimidated because, after all, it was a look that was directed at you. One that often wasn’t. 

His expression barely flickered or faltered, even as your eyes so clearly locked with his. Instead, he could only lift a single brow in your direction in interest. It was like a challenge, almost as if he was daring you to do something you would regret, something he wouldn’t like. 

“Hey,” the guy’s voice broke through your facade, a gentle mumble as his hand squeezed your hip. The feeling brought your eyes to flicker back to him but only for a second before you were glancing back at Anakin. “Are you listening?” 

You weren’t. Instead too distracted by the man across the room, whose jaw had suddenly tightened. 

“I… uh, need to get another drink,” you forced a smile, voice gentle as you gestured to the empty cup. 

“Do you want me to get it?” he asked then, yelling over the music, and you hated the way it made you feel. 

“No, that’s okay. I’ll be right back,” you replied, almost like a false promise, as you slipped under his arm, separating his frame from yours completely, and with it, a weight seemed to dissipate. The ability to breathe suddenly a grace you didn’t know you were missing. 

It was like you could feel his eyes following your frame. The coldness that was his blue orbs as you swerved your way through the crowd of people, bumping into them as you went, recognizing very few. Iris had been gone from your side for almost an hour, somehow slipping away with Harrison’s cousin to talk about probably Harrison. You had been left to fend for yourself, which was nothing new. Something you had done the whole semester prior, and yet it was the first time, you couldn’t stand the thought. 

Even as the alcohol had left you swaying, vision slightly blurred, and mind a slurring mess, there wasn’t much comfort in the feeling. You managed to squeeze you were way to the kitchen, the music enough to have your ears echoing. Sighing, you found only a few people littered throughout, mixing new drinks or leaning against the countertops to speak too closely. It would be too good to be true to find it empty.

Slipping into the kitchen, which seemed nearly as dark as the rest of the apartment, you found the corner of the countertop where you had been taking alcohol from all night. Harrison had been kind enough to offer you something better than what you had mixed, and it had become the thing you began to drink as soon as your seltzers were long since chugged. Reaching for the liquor bottle, you uncapped it and began to pour, heavier than you had been before. Mixing the remainder of the lemonade in, you picked it up, already reading for the strong sip. 

“How many of those have you had?” 

The voice was low but loud as it spoke over the music. Scaring you, you turned around on your heels quickly, the drink nearly spilling all over you if it wasn’t for his hand that came to grasp the cup, part of his palm covering your own. It was warm. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, the only vocal response to how close he was and all of a sudden. 

“Careful,” Anakin chuckled, taking the drink from your hand, to which you pouted in dismay, hating how he pulled it closer to himself. 

You stared, expression wary as he towered over you, closer than he ever had before, his eyes tracing the startled look as if he were the predator cornering his prey. His stare flickered following the way your chest rose and fell, your bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you stared up at him, eyes slightly glassed over from the amount of alcohol you had. 

God, you hated him. You really did as he stared down at you, smirking the way he was, only a few inches away. If you leaned closer, your chest would press against his, and at the thought, you had to squeeze your legs shut, trying to keep as much space between the two of you as you pressed yourself back against the countertop. 

A glint appeared as he noticed the way you shifted with discomfort, something he knew wasn’t a common occurrence with you. Tilting his head innocently, he glanced down at your drink, which now was in his grasp, a teasing tone emitting, “You never answered my question. How many of these have you had?” 

You shrugged, trying to wipe off the look on your face as if you could picture it was anyone else in front of you. “I don’t know. A few.” 

“How many is a few?” he demanded, eyes tracing the way you swayed on your feet, almost like he could know your head was spinning, nearly seeing two of him. 

“You want a number?” you laughed, thinking he was joking. 

His expression never faltered, “Yes.” 

“Three, maybe four, I don’t know.” 

He hummed, almost like he was dissatisfied with the answer. Instead of offering the drink back to you, he brought it closer to himself, that serious look never disappearing. “You should be done for the night.” 

“Really?” you mused, a single brow raising at his tone. 

“Yeah, in fact, I’ll finish this one off for you. Maybe try a water there, Y/L/N,” he said, bringing the cup to his lips, covering where your lipstick stains had been.

He took a sip, and you felt your blood boil out of both annoyance and something else. He wasn’t even touching you, and yet there was more of a reaction out of you than earlier when the soccer player had his hands inching up your shirt. It seemed he knew that too, and it was infuriating. 

“Anakin!” 

“By the way, your flavor of the night is looking for you. I think I saw him over by the bathroom where Iris was waiting. I’m sure he was asking about you.” 

“You know what,” you said then, raising your hands up in the air, an almost look of acceptance on your face as you slipped out from under his frame you hadn’t realized had gotten so close, “Fine.” 

With that, you walked away out of the kitchen, palm empty of your drink and heart heavy by the man who had taken it so easily from you. It was like taking candy from a baby, you almost offered it willingly if it meant getting a few more seconds being pressed close to him, his blue eyes tracing your drunken frame. 

He had gotten you then. He was under your skin, had practically dug himself a hole, and you knew you couldn’t; not willingly go find Harrison’s teammate just to think about someone else all night. How much further could you even go than flirting? You usually wouldn’t, and you definitely couldn’t, not that night, not in that state, not when Anakin Skywalker flashed through your mind on repeat, feeding the worst desires. 

The apartment was hot, still messy, lingering with stenches of alcohol, weed, and cigarettes. It was like all of the sweaty bodies were still gathered within their living room when really it was nearly three a.m., most of the lights were turned off, and the only thing that could be seen was Harrison and Iris slightly tangled on the couch. Anakin was slumped over on their second couch, now in a pair of sweatpants that hung loosely off his frame and dark long sleeve. His head lulled to the side as he stared at the TV in front of him, unable to really get comfortable on the couch with the warmth of the room. 

Unable to open the window due to them being almost frozen shut, he sat up, his feet meeting the floor. He wanted to sleep. It was the only thing he could think about; hoping it would be enough to quiet the thoughts along with the twitch of his dick. But he couldn’t, not as he felt the sweat along his eyebrow and the smell that seemed to not dissipate even long after he thought he had gotten used to it. 

“Fuck, it still smells.” 

“Well, I don’t know, maybe open the door, see if it airs out in the hallway,” Harrison said, his words slurring slightly, his eyes narrowing in tiredness. 

Anakin became deadpan then, “The door? You have got to be fucking kidding me.” 

“Or not. Whatever.” 

“Well, do we have a fan or something?” Anakin offered, standing from the couch in the darkness, stretching his arms up and over his head, “I had one, but I can’t remember the last time I saw mine or even used it.”

Harrison peered up at his roommate, a shy smile on his face seeming oblivious or rather uncaring of the problem at hand, too focused on the feeling of Iris’ head resting along his collarbone. It was then the girl perked up, her eyes shifting away from the TV and the creepy murder documentary she had recommended. 

Her blonde hair peeked up from the couch, and she chuckled lightly at the realization, “That’s because we have it.” 

“What do you mean we?” Anakin replied, brows raising slightly in interest. 

“Y/N and I…” she said carefully, “Harrison let us borrow it at the beginning of the semester when our AC system gave out. I’m pretty sure we forgot to give it back. It’s in our linen closet.” 

He stared down at her, somehow at a loss of what to say or if that meant she was willing to get up and give it to him then or expected him to wait. Before he could decide, she reached the coffee table and picked up her keys before tossing them to Anakin. 

“Here. Take my keys, you can go grab it.” 

Catching them, he stared down at it on the brass key ring, the very key that led to your apartment. An apartment you very much could have been in fucking around with one of the new guys’ Harrison had introduced you to. Anakin’s hand tightened around the keyset at the thought, a certain discomfort appearing at even the picture he could conjure up. The guy had been practically all over you all night, and you hadn’t done anything to reject his advances. Instead, you let them happen all while a set of eyes were staring at you from across the room. 

“I… uh.” 

“Relax,” she laughed, “Y/N said she was going to shower and go to bed. You’re not going to run into any naked soccer players fleeing from her bedroom.” 

“Funny,” Anakin glared, a fake smile appearing as he noticed the familiar glint that had appeared on his roommate’s face. Not ready for the constant teasing, he stepped out of the living room towards the front door. 

Walking out, he barely processed the sound of the door closing behind him, too focused on the key in his hand. It took less than a minute when he came face to face with the dark door. Tall with gold brass located in the middle displaying just how it differed from all the rest — what it meant. The numbers he thought about more often than he should. 

802. 

Fuck. He thought about it too much, so much so it felt easy to let the key slide into the hole and unlock the door with a mere turn of his wrist. Stepping through the threshold, the first thing he noticed was how refreshing it felt compared to the smell of his apartment. It was cooler in there, with a smell of almost clean laundry and vanilla. He couldn’t help but wonder if the whole apartment smelled that way or if somehow your room was different. 

The floors matched the ones in his dark paneling that showed all of the dirt that fell on them. There were a few entrance rugs he couldn’t see much in the dark, as well as the entrance to the kitchen. He wanted to look around, turn on a light to take it all in, but he couldn’t, not with you only a few doors away, possibly naked and in the shower. He felt so gross about it, that he cared so much. 

Especially as your underwear sat in the top drawer of his dresser. He had been contemplating about it all night, just how he could bring it up or return it to you. But he wasn’t sure the best approach without it coming off as disgusting. If he told Iris, she would never look at him the same, probably confused why he had them at all. Harrison would only make jokes, almost applauding Anakin, just to take Iris’ side when he tried to pass them off to her. And you, he couldn’t even think about what your reaction might look like upon finding out that he had your underwear, had them all day. 

Moving further into the apartment, he entered the vast hallway just as Iris had explained, eyes locating in the dark the few doorways that appeared. With his flashlight on, he was able to find it halfway down the hall on the left. Just as he opened the door, though, he took notice of the dim light a door down, a purple hue peeking out from it that was left cracked open. With the familiar sound of The Weekend, Anakin smirked as he picked his way through the linen closet. 

There on the top shelf was his fan. 

Grabbing it, he shut the linen closet, but halted in front of the door, a new sound grabbing his attention. A breathy sigh, almost like a huff of frustration. His shoulders stiffened slightly, stomach tightening at the sound alone. As another noise slipped, but much louder paired with the gentle lull of a vibration, Anakin knew for sure. Knew that you were getting yourself off, and he couldn’t ignore just how pretty it sounded. 

It was too much, so he stepped away from your door towards the other end of the hallway, but he had only made it two steps before he felt himself stop. 

“Ani…” The whimper was not quiet, and he felt his jaw tighten at the way the syllables formed on your lips. 

The sounds were louder, your moan breathtaking. 

Anakin’s hand cupped his dick, your voice going straight to it. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment, but they snapped back open as another one echoed out from your room, this one a little more desperate. 

“Oh, Anakin.” 

He didn’t know how he didn’t drop that fucking fan. Wasn’t sure if it would slip through his fingers or if he would throw it on purpose, anything to make his presence known. Anything to make the sounds continue but due to his fingers rather than your own. He had never felt such pain then at that moment as he forced himself to walk away, the sounds of you undoing yourself deliberately with his name breaking apart across your tongue. 

There wasn’t a doubt then anymore. Not a single ounce of question. 

It seemed that was enough to know. Enough to have figured out just exactly what to do with the red lacy underwear that sat tucked into the top drawer of his dresser.

“No, fuck, where is it?”

The sound of your voice grumbling from your room droned out into the hallway. Your hands were shoved into the bottom of your dresser drawer, rummaging through the clean laundry you had folded the day before. The sole piece of clothing you were looking for was nowhere in sight. As soon as you hadn’t found it near the top when you had started getting ready for your date, you felt your chest tighten. You groaned loudly, arms balancing along your knees as you moved to find it not hidden somewhere in your laundry basket either. 

“Y/N/N, I’m going to head to work,” Iris poked her head inside, but her voice trailed off at the sight of you crouched in the middle of the room, tearing apart your dresser drawers. “What are you doing?” 

“I can’t find them,” you mumbled out. 

“Find what?” 

You sighed, almost hesitant to even say it out loud, “My panties. The red ones.” 

“The ones with lace?” she asked, for clarification, her brows raising in interest. 

“Yes, I washed them yesterday, I swear.”

“Don’t you have your date tonight?” she asked, eyes looking around the room, spotting the few outfits you had laid out across your bed and the mounds of makeup and hair products spread out at your vanity. “The one with Harrison’s teammate?” 

“Yeah, Cole.” 

At the name, a flash of recognition formed across Iris’ face. It was the same guy you had been with most of the night before at the party, practically pressed up against a wall as he eye fucked you for most of the night. By the end of it, you were so drunk he hadn’t even gotten a kiss out of you, only your number. He texted you that morning about going out for drinks and dinner. You were hesitant at first, almost inclined to say no, but then something else made you change your mind. Perhaps the sight from the night before of the smirk that laced over Anakin’s face as he teased you about Cole. No inclination at all that it bothered him, the sight of you pressed up against someone else. It was annoying, so annoying, that you couldn’t help but say yes to Cole for a date. 

What else were you going to do? 

Anakin Skywalker barely spoke to you and noticed your presence. It was a joke. All of it. 

Iris smiled smugly, then down at you as you continued to search through the dresser drawer. “And you need your red lacy panties for a first date?” 

“I mean, I don’t need them, just want them, you know, in case.” 

“Who are you right now?” she laughed, the sound bringing your attention away from your underwear drawer. Her arms were crossed over her chest, that smile still evident as a hint of amusement flashed across her eyes. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You don’t usually think about sleeping with a guy until at least the fourth or fifth date. The last time you were talking to someone, you made him hold out for the sixth date just to ask him to leave after twenty minutes of making out. And you want to wear your sex underwear on the first date?”

“I’m not a prude, you know,” you laughed too, your anxiety easing slightly even though your favorite underwear was still missing. 

“I never said you were. I’m just saying, you’re different. That’s all.” 

“Is that such a bad thing?” 

She shook her head, almost a sense of pride appearing, “No. Not at all. Anyway, I should go.” 

“Okay, I’ll see you later,” you replied over your shoulder, your attention going back to the clothes scattered around you. 

“Yeah, have fun on your date. I can’t wait to hear how it goes. Oh, and maybe try looking in the laundry room.” 

You cringed almost at the thought that they had somehow been left in there overnight, all while other people were coming in and out to do their laundry, “Right.”

Standing from your bedroom floor, you looked around the room one more time before inevitably giving up. Instead, you slid on a pair of shoes, and left the apartment, the door closing and echoing behind you. Making your way down the hall, you passed the guys’ door and the memories from the night before flashed again in your head. Anakin taking your drink, cutting you off from anything for the rest of the night. You wish you wouldn’t have listened and continued to sneak some. You didn’t have to listen to him at all. That was the funniest part, and you did it anyway. 

Entering the laundry room, the automatic lights clicked on upon your entrance illuminating the room in cascades of bright LEDs. It was warm, just like it usually was when someone was doing their laundry. The familiar rumble of the dryer and washers caught your attention. The sound of it clouded your thoughts as you approached the washer and dryer you had been using the day before. 

With one simple open of the stainless steel washer, you found it empty of any sort of clothing. You sighed, the annoyance deepening at the thought of having lost them. Expensive underwear you had bought on your trip to France over the summer. A pair Iris had to convince you to buy because you typically weren’t one for buying sexy underwear. It was the pair that opened the vault for you, leading you to not only buy so many more since then but a string of memories confined to that pair of lace, all from the few pairs of hands that had slid them down your legs with ease late into the night. 

It was your favorite pair of underwear. 

The only pair you felt like wearing on nights when you knew inevitably they would end up on someone’s floor. 

“Fuck,” you cursed again lowly as you stepped over to the dryer you had used. 

Sure enough, as you opened and closed it, you found it just as empty as the other machine you had checked. Your stomach dropped at the thought, and it had come to desperate measures as you crouched down near the machines and began looking around them on the floor. 

It was not your proudest moment, and that only became clear as it only lasted around thirty seconds when you heard the door open, paired with a voice you were dreading to have to face anytime soon. 

“What are you doing?” 

Your eyes closed, your breath falling short in your throat. Sighing, you stood from where you were crouched along the floor, surely giving him a show in the shorts you had been wearing since your shower that afternoon. You wouldn’t turn to face him, not if it meant seeing some sort of teasing look appear. It was embarrassing enough. Instead, you pressed yourself closer to the dryer, peering over the back of it, hoping just maybe the red lace would appear behind it. 

“I am looking for something.” 

Anakin chuckled, subtly tracing the curve of your ass through your pajama shorts, his fingers curling around the silky material in his pocket. “What?” 

“It’s nothing.” 

“Well, maybe if you told me, I could help,” he offered, and at that, you froze. 

Turning around slowly, you faced him, heart picking up at the sight of him alone. He looked just as fine as he had the night before, maybe even a little bit more. He wore jeans, ones that were loose around his frame, paired with a hoodie, hiding away the definition of his torso you craved to see after so long. His hair was slightly damp, leaving a ringlet curl along his forehead. It was slightly shorter, too, the back especially, meaning he had gotten a haircut. You had thought you would be sad when he had finally done it, cut the small curls that lay along the back of his neck, but now that he had, you couldn’t help but stare, knees practically giving out at how good he truly looked. 

Sure enough, that smirk was plastered along his face, paired with a glint you knew all too well. 

“Help? You want to help me?” 

He shrugged, “It could maybe make it go faster. You look like you need to be somewhere.” 

It was the most he had ever said to you. The last two days had crossed every line that had been between the two of you over the past four months of knowing one another. This was it. The past two days of his intimidating stares and forceful words.

Placing your hands on your hips, you raised a brow over at him interest, “And why would you think that?” 

He stepped closer, and that alone had your chest rattling and hands practically shaking. He was so tall, so breathtaking, and you had wanted him for so long, so badly, it had consumed you. Just the sight of him as he stood before you, looming over your frame, had your core twitching, aching already, and he hadn’t even touched you. There was the reality that he probably wouldn’t. 

His tongue clicked along the roof of his mouth, his blue orbs falling to trace over your bare legs, freshly tanned, smooth, up to the short baby tee that hugged your frame; no bra. You looked as if you were ready to settle in for the night, but he knew better. 

“You did your makeup,” he said, observingly, “And you look as if you put something in your hair. Maybe, styled it for someone. You got a hot date or something?” 

Your mouth was dry, and you had to look away, guilt appearing that you would be with another man that night, all while you would probably be thinking about him. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” 

“So, that’s a yes,” he chuckled, the deep sound making your legs clench slightly. “Harrison’s teammate from last night? I could see him asking you out just to get in your pants.” 

“Stop,” you fumed, brows furrowing in annoyance, arms crossing over your chest, “Why does it matter?” 

“It doesn’t. So, what are we looking for Y/L/N? What’s going to make you late for this dick appointment?” 

“You know what. Forget it. I can find it myself.” 

“No, no, come on, now. I’m just trying to be helpful,” he smiled, that smirk widening, almost getting off at the sight of your pout and knitted brows. “Seems like you might need it? So, what a top? A bra, maybe, something he’ll want to pull off of you later.” 

“Anakin,” you warned as he took a step closer, his head tilting antagonizingly, taking in how your chest rose and fell nervously. There was still a foot or so between you and yet you couldn’t help but step back until you were up against the dryer, the warmth of it felt through your shorts. 

“Or is it not either of those things? No. Can’t be,” he paused, voice trailing off as his stare flickered down to your lips, “Underwear?” 

Your lips parted in shock, stomach turning at the way it sounded like he was trying to torture you with his presence. 

“So that’s it? Panties, huh? Must be some nice fucking ones if they have you bent over in the laundry room looking for them. What do they look like? I’m sure I can find them.” 

You couldn’t form words, not as he taunted you, even from so far away. Not as his hands were shoved in the pockets of his pants, the most casual look about him. He alluded to sex just from how he looked, and that was hard enough, but him standing in front of you, lips glistening from his saliva, spouting these things at you, they might as well have been the dirtiest things a guy has ever said. They had you wet. You knew they did, and it had you shrinking in humiliation. Humiliation that he could say your name alone, and it would have you so pent up to the point of reaching for that familiar blue vibrator on your bedside table, desperately trying to relieve the tension he built up inside of you. 

Inhaling, you tried to relax. “They’re lace.” 

“Okay. See-through?” he asked, unable to say it with a straight face. 

“Yes.” The word was so quiet coming from your lips, almost like a whisper. 

The tip of his tongue traced over the top set of his teeth, highlighting his cuspids you wanted more than anything to bite into your neck. All while his hand dug between your legs. The thought fell away though at his next words, them enough to have your heart stop altogether. 

“They wouldn’t be red by chance, are they?” 

Your mouth fell open in shock, and for a second, you thought he was going to take hold of your lower lip to close it, anything to touch you, but he didn’t. Why would he? With widened eyes and that knitted expression forming once again across your face, you were silent as you watched his hand appear from his pocket, that all too familiar red color appearing before your eyes. 

“Or something like these, right?” he held them out on his index finger, the expensive material from France staring back at you, “Fuck, I didn’t expect it, Y/L/N. That you could own a pair like this.” 

Your face felt warm, annoyed, and embarrassed by his taunt. Enough that you reached forward to pluck them from his hand, but he pulled his hand back further to keep you from taking hold of them. 

“Anakin,” you warned, hand out stretched. 

“You know, you should pay closer attention when you do your laundry. Some creep in the building could have picked them up instead of me. Who knows what would have happened to them then.” 

It was like he could see the steam coming out of your ears, the heat on your face that he somehow could see even past your makeup. He was frustrating you, and he could do it all day, every day, he decided. 

“Give them to me.” 

“Or what?” he quipped, “Tell me why I should? Just so some guy can take them off of you later. Some guy you don’t even want to fuck you.” 

“Stop this,” you whispered, it almost sounding like a plea as you tried to reach for the underwear again, but as you did, he pulled his hand away. This time, going as far as to stuff them into the back pocket of his jeans. You groaned in annoyance at the sight. “You’re being an asshole.” 

“And you’re a fucking liar,” he taunted, stepping closer again. This time until he was no more than a few inches away. Your body was fully pressed against the dryer then, it hot along the skin on the back of your thighs. “So admit it.” 

“Admit what?” 

He leaned closer, his lips nearly tracing the shell of your ear, all while his hands moved up, fingers brushing across your bare ribs so softly it hadn’t felt real. They slipped away, instead pressing along the dryer behind you that was still running. He had you caged in, his chest warm against yours. 

“That you want this. That you want me.” 

A breathy sigh fell away, your lips practically trembling as all of the hair on your body seemed to stand straight up. 

He continued, “You say I’m the asshole but you’re the one who walks around doing your laundry in nothing but a skimpy shirt. You fucking want me to see you like that, don’t you? Like this? You want to tempt me. But that’s the thing isn’t it? You only act like a whore if it means getting my attention. Isn’t that right?” 

“Anakin…” his name almost sounding like a moan as it slipped, body leaning further into his involuntarily. 

“Say it, Y/N. Fucking say it, and I’m yours.” 

You sighed, the most hopeless sound because he had you. He always did. How was it happening? You weren’t sure, but it was all that mattered. “Fine, I want you.” 

He smiled a grin that was so full of himself as he reached forward, his hand gripping your jaw so firmly in his hand. It happened so quick, then, the feeling of him pulling you forward. It was almost like you could have gotten whiplash as his lips consumed you, enveloping you in what could only be described as pure sin. Without a moment to even feel them on yours, his tongue was parting your lips, slipping in without you giving much of a fight. A moan was ripped free from your throat as he branded you over and over, his taste coated along your tongue, faintly tasting of mint gum and cigarettes. 

Somehow it wasn’t anything you thought it would be like. It was better, intangible, unable to fully grasp until it was happening, leaving you to spin, to drip with need, and in a way, begging for penance. His body collided with yours, his other hand roughly grabbing your hip, slamming you further into the dryer, the vibration of it catching your attention as he did so. As his knee parted your legs, you twitched, the feeling of his clothed knee too much as he pressed it up against your core. 

Gasping, your hands shot forward, pushing at his chest. It was enough for his lips to part from yours, with a string of his saliva pooling around the corners of your lips. “Wait, not here.” 

You looked around the empty laundry room, suddenly awfully aware of the possibility for anyone to walk in. Especially those who had their laundry going in the machines. 

He chuckled, the sound making your legs clench again, but this time around, his knee stood in the way. He smirked at the sight, his voice lowering, “Yes, here.” 

You couldn’t deny how it had made you feel, the dominance doing something to you. So much so that you relaxed under his hooded eyes, giving in once again. It was enough of an answer for him as he immediately went to your cotton shorts, yanking them down from your hips. The material loosened and pooled around your feet, leaving you in nothing but the black pair of soft panties you had slipped on after your shower. 

“Not red,” he chuckled, hands ghosting along your ribs, thumbs tempting to brush along your nipples through the material of your shirt, “But fuck are they still pretty.” 

His knee pressed up further against the material, the thin material that was soaked to the point that he was risking having a stain left when he pulled it away. You whimpered at the feeling, desperate for any relief you hadn’t been able to get since you laid eyes on him for the first time. You couldn’t help but sink down on him, the feeling sending a shock through your core and another sound to fall from your blissfully kissed lips. 

He took in the sight, not caring who saw. Not if it meant he had his claim on you, that everyone knew. That they all were aware of how fucking obsessed you were, with him, his cock, that you would be willing to get caught. With lidded eyes just as desperate for you as you were for him, he let his fingers trace down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake as he found the waistband of your underwear. Your chest tightened again in anticipation, as his fingers slid down further until they were pressed along the front of it, able to feel the wetness that had soaked all the way through. 

His ego was huge at that point, almost feeling accomplished by his handy work. His thumb found the bundle of nerves with ease as if this hadn’t been his first time with you, but rather had memorized your body, knew just how exactly to get you to come undone. Pressing down, he bit down on his bottom lip, watching as your head lulled back, a desperate sound-emitting. 

He couldn’t take it then, and neither could you. When he pulled away, you gasped in protest, ready to glare at him, but that inclination disappeared as he reached for the button of his jeans. You were practically drooling as it popped, followed by the sound of the zipper being yanked down. Your chest was rising and falling, so much anticipation forming along your skin in the form of sweat, the spot between your legs throbbing to the point of it almost being painful. 

You were ready to beg. If he wasted any more time, you would. You didn’t care how desperate and defiling it felt then because if it were any other man, you wouldn’t, but for him, you would. You would over and over if it meant it would lead to this. Your breath hitched as he reached for the waistline of his boxers, sliding them down just enough to release his dick from the confines of the material. 

Fuck, even his dick was perfect. 

The sight of it had you nearly collapsing, completely acting like an idiot just at the sight. Who knew all it took was one cock to have you completely silent, lost for words. It had never happened, never thought it could, until him. It was the way it erected out, almost touching the material of his hoodie, red, already slick with precum. A world where he wanted you back seemed so implausible, and yet the sight of that alone could have had you cumming on the spot. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, wrapping one of his hands around the base of it, he hissed slightly at the contact. 

“Anakin, fuck just, please,” you whimpered further, and you hated how it sounded across your tongue, but that thought disappeared quickly as he moved closer. 

With one hand pushing your underwear to the side, the other aided his dick in sliding in between your folds. It was only the tip, and yet at the feeling, you were a mess. A mess of chewing on your lower lip, just desperately wishing for this feeling to never end. If you could have this for the rest of your life every day, you would. The feeling of him over and over again would be a mantra you would strive for if it always felt like this. 

Your walls were tight around him, and both being so impatient, he thrust forward, bottoming out quickly. A small noise fell from your lips at the feeling of his tip colliding deeply inside, your walls tightening, sucking him in perfectly. 

“Ah, fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice enough to make you clench again, stomach fluttering as his forehead softly met yours. 

There was a second, a brief moment where neither of you moved. It was only heavy breathing accompanied by the sounds of the dryers, and you knew it was equally the nastiest but most perfect moment of your life. Then with his lips collapsing on yours once again, he began to move. Pulling out, he trusted back in, rocking his hips against yours. He swore under his breath, dick twitching though he had barely even started. With his lips claiming yours over and over, his hand trailed up along the side of your leg, taking hold of your knee to hike it up along his waist. At the new feeling, the stretch, paired with his dick still prodding, you moaned, the sound loud, louder than you anticipated it to be. 

He laughed, the sound vibrating against your chest. It only got worse as his other hand slipped down in between your bodies locating your clit with ease through your underwear. Pulling out all the way, he shoved himself all the way back in, eliciting sounds you didn’t know you could even derive. Your body arched into his, legs already like jelly as his thumb circled the bundle of nerves slowly, almost too slowly. The feeling of the soft fabric of the underwear only added more friction and you were spiraling at how quickly your pussy tightened around his length. 

He grunted, a string of curse words slipping as he harshly pinned your body back against the dryer, the vibration of the machine only heightening it all further. You wouldn’t last long, you knew that, practically able to hear your heart in your ears, stomach clenching with that familiar knot. Your hands reached out to grip his shoulders, the material of his hoodie curling under your fingers as you held onto him so tightly as if you were trying to mold the two of your bodies into one. 

Moving so quickly at that point, he was reaching that very spot inside you couldn’t do yourself, and it had your head spinning, chest rising and falling, as you desperately craved the high more than even drugs or alcohol. 

“Say my name, baby,” he pleaded then, sounding so whiny as his blue eyes met yours. “Come on. Say it. Say it like you do when you’re laying in bed, hand going to fucking work in between your legs.” 

Sweat gathered along his brow, while the tops of his cheeks were staining red. The sound of the pet name had you almost crying, leg tightening around his waist, as every part of your body seemed lit on fire. 

“Anakin,” you moaned softly. 

“No,” he demanded glaring down at you, “Not like that.” 

He began to speed up his assault on your clit, and you could barely stand at that point, body almost leaning completely back on the dryer. That was enough to get what he wanted as his name began to spill from your mouth louder than it ever had before. 

He swore again, his grunts filling your ears as his palm tightened around your hip. He was moving so quickly, sliding in and out, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs, the sounds so loud in your ears. His thumb never faltered or stopped as he pulled all the way out and then back in, wanting you to take him in inch by inch. Before you had even realized it, your walls were tightening around him, your stomach clenched, eyes squeezed shut like you were chasing stars. 

That feeling snapped, a lull, and you were a moaning mess as you held onto him, knowing you couldn’t stand on your own. Fingers digging deeply into his shoulders, body relaxing slightly while the orgasm washed over you, he didn’t dare stop. Anakin only pulled out to slam back into you, the flutter of your walls pulling him in over and over again. Chasing his high so desperately, it didn’t take long, until he was stilling completely, cumming inside of you. 

You hadn’t let anyone else do that, but for him, it was a privilege. It was almost like your pussy was promised for him and him alone. His forehead fell down against yours, body relaxing into yours for a moment, only a few seconds, not long enough as your walls pulsed around him, now soft inside of you. He pulled out with ease, the loss of him and the cool air startling you to clamp your legs shut. 

He stuffed himself back into his pants and looked down at you almost proudly, your fucked out gaze enough to have him wanting to take you back to his apartment and keep it going all night long, but you had places to be instead. Smirking, his eyes fell down to your lower half, and he couldn’t resist then. Fingers finding the sides of your underwear, they hooked around them before pulling them down your frame and to your ankles. Though confused, you followed, stepping out of them. 

At the loss of them, you could feel the mixed wetness pooling out of you and down the inside of your legs, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Proud of his handiwork, Anakin reached behind him in his back pocket and took out the red lacy underwear. He held them out in his hands, stretching them as he demanded softly, “Step in.” 

Listening, you stepped into the underwear, the clean red lacy underwear that had started all of this. Then tantalizing as if he wanted to torture you further, he pulled them up your legs slowly, agonizingly slow, and then up and over your butt until they sat comfortably along your hips, surely soaking in what the two of you had done.

Leaning forward, he left a lingering peck on your hip bone, and you sighed at the feeling. He slid your shorts back on next before standing and as he did, you could still feel the flush in your cheeks, reality catching up to you. 

Having exchanged the red underwear for the black ones you wore, he shoved the dirty ones into his back pocket. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t think straight, as your heart seemed to be beating out of your chest. With that smirk, that glint on his goddamn face, he reached forward, thumb pulling your bottom lip free before letting it snap back into place. 

“I expect those panties of yours to remain where they are your whole date, got it? And tell Cole ‘hi’ for me, will you?” 

There was one thing for sure, Anakin Skywalker despised you, or not anymore, at least because, after all, he got the one thing he had been dying of thirst for. He would make sure you never ignored him again, even if it was when you were doing your damn laundry. 

[forever--darling]

calling all to send in stuff

smut, fluff, tropes, short thoughts, anything ;)

blurbs

does anyone have any hayden christenson or anakin skywalker blurb ideas. I am feeling very deprived and have been struggling with having motivation the last few days to write.

if there is a lot, I might introduce blurb nights one day a week, to give you guys stuff to read in between longer posts. 🥹

[forever--darling]

I read your past series, and when I saw the new update of a new series, I just said to myself, 'I'm going to read this series because I just love your writing!'

No matter what fanfiction you create, I am willing to read it. I'm here for your writing, girl, and again, I just want to emphasize how much I love how you write!

this is so sweet! truly.

I got so nervous and overwhelmed with the amount of love I got for my series last year, and I was worried when I had to step away for a while to focus on school and some personal things.

obviously, since then, I have left the avatar fandom, and that was also something I felt so guilty about, but I am one of those people who do tend to like a lot of things and have a hard time keeping up with a bunch of works at once. It is something I want to get better at, but it's not easy, as I can't just be a writer all of the time. Especially, if I am not as passionate about it anymore, it gets hard.

I appreciated this ask so much because it really shows the amount of support that is still there. I hope you enjoy the new works as much as the last!

[forever--darling]

Hi there! I hope you're doing well. I'm really interested in how you write your stories and what inspires you. Could you share some tips on how you put your stories together and what helps you be creative?

I just want to add that I really love your series, and I'm looking forward to new ones in the future, but also take your time. I know all of your readers, including myself, are always willing to wait and support your works.

hi, I am, thank you.

I answered an ask similar to this one about a year ago, that I'll link below but considering that a year has passed and I've taken a few more creative writing classes at college, I'll add a few additional ones.

previous ask

tips

outlines. i mentioned this in my previous ask, because it literally is the first thing that i do. as soon as I think of an idea, a person, a scene anything, I write it down. whether that be in your notes app (which I prefer to use) or a notebook, w r i t e it d o w n. this is the best way to truly craft and add onto those ideas as well as plan out your series, story, whatever. with that, I also really like the flexibility it allows when you want to change something or allow other thoughts to appear.

when it comes to fanfiction specifically, it helps me a lot to research the world I am trying to contextualize, whether that be watching scenes, googling, or scrolling through interests -- all of these allow me to get into the right mindset when writing as well as helping if I feel stuck.

as of lately, what I have relied on so much is pinterest. I know it's not exactly for everyone, but I have absolutely loved it so much. I will usually create private boards for short stories or even the books I have written, allowing myself a place to really go and identify the main vibes or feelings I want to convey. it provides motivation when I am maybe not feeling inclined to write, as well as another resource to use to organize my thoughts and intentions.

there aren't many more I can name off the top of my head right now, but a lot of the ones I listed in my previous ask still apply a lot to me as a writer now. so please go read those as well. I hope this helped!

[forever--darling]

Hello, lovely! Seeing your new updates makes me so happy! You are amazing. The slow burn is making me anticipate the new chapters, and that's what I love about your works. I really have a thing for slow burns, and you've given the best slow burn story, so I want to say thank you so much! 🤗

yesss! I love this.

I am such a slow burn lover as well. anything with angst, slow burn, I am here for it always. I am excited for what's in store for this series as well as all of your reactions. They seriously are the sweetest and are so appreciative.

so much love!

[forever--darling]

Hi! I just wanted to say that your stories are, as always, very wonderful. The characters, the scenes, and the slow burn are just wow… I can't even express how amazing it is. I'm a little bit curious – what are your plans for the upcoming chapters of your new series? Like, how many chapters are you planning to create? Not to rush you or anything; I am just looking forward to your new series. If you are not yet sure, I am gladly ready to wait. I'm just deeply fond of your stories. I'm so thankful that despite your other commitments, you make an effort to find time to write stories.

hi good morning!

yes thank you so much. my plans for the upcoming series is a little bit up in the air about how many parts exactly as I am still trying to figure out the ending of the series as well as how much detail I want to go into since this story coaligns with the movies.

however, as I'm sure you've noticed on my series masterlist 'revenge of the sith' is on there. I plan to have this series go into the third movie and follow along kind of closely with anakin.

off the top of my head, I am thinking of parts left within 'aoftc', maybe one or two, before we move into the next movie!

I wish I could have parts coming out sooner, have just been a little stuck with school starting back up again and work, but I am going to try and get them out as soon as I can!

[forever--darling]

Hi! I've been reading your works, including your recent fanfiction. What I can say is that I like how much effort you put into ensuring that the readers feel what the characters of the story feel.

Looking forward to the next chapters of your new series!

ahh yay! it's been so long since I've gotten any inbox messages on this account. this made my evening.

working on a modern au anakin skywalker one shot which is currently at 6.6k words. Just have to write one more scene and will post that with the next chapter of me & the devil some time after that.

cheers

[forever--darling]

senator amidala

summary: while obi-wan lectures anakin over & over it seems, you find yourself unable to do anything but look more into your vision, & the story behind the stars. just when you feel as if you are getting some answers, forces shift at the addition of a new mission as well as someone from anakin's past.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 8.1k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, anakin skywalker x padmé amidala, angst, jealousy, the beginning of a long unforeseen slow burn

series masterlist | 04

“Are you going to say anything or just sit there looking at me like that?” Anakin asked, his arms crossed over his chest, leaning against the wall of the training room, unable to look away from the glowered look that had overtaken his Master’s face. “Master?”

Obi-Wan sat in a rolling chair, his legs stiffly stuck to the floor and a certain knot forming between his eyebrows, that frown of his peeking through his beard. He didn’t even move or react when Anakin huffed out annoyingly, glancing towards the door and the closed blinds. Obi-Wan found him to be acting like a child then as he refused to have patience, refused to sit there in silence, but almost needed to in every way defy even the sole look that was being sent his way. 

Anakin raised his hands in the air, irritated by the impending silence; it not going to make a difference one way or another when his Master finally decided to open his mouth and scold him. It would be just as scornful either way, and the young Chosen One didn’t have it in himself to do anything else but keep talking, “It’s not like—” 

“Don’t,” Obi-Wan snapped lifting his pointer finger in the young Jedi’s direction, “Don’t you try and lie to me right now.” 

“I’m not. Nothing happened, and nothing was going to happen.” 

“Huh, so you’re just telling me you were laying on her for what?” Obi-Wan replied back, the sarcasm thick, so parent-like despite Anakin being an adult. “Of course, you don’t think of me as that stupid, Anakin.” 

“I don’t, Master,” Anakin agreed, sighing slightly as he pushed off from the wall to approach his Master, “It’s just I did nothing to go against the code. I need you to know that, and I won’t.”

“How can I trust you?” Obi-Wan deflated, the statement alone causing Anakin to shift in fear, waning at the very thing he never thought he would hear, “I can’t look at the two of you together the same anymore. I’m aware you have a connection, one that is deemed stronger than I realized, but how can you assure me one hundred percent that it’s nothing more?”

“Nothing more…” Anakin’s words trailed off, the accusation something he hadn’t let cross his mind longer than it should. He couldn’t. He knew that. “It’s not. I can assure you.”

Obi-Wan leaned forward, his elbows finding a place along his knees, that frown lessening as he took in the wide-eyed expression on Anakin’s face. The younger Jedi’s brows rose then, the words once again slipping to provide as much comfort to his Master as he could, “She hasn’t been sleeping, Master. It’s been this way for a few months now. I can’t help but know when something is bothering her. Neither of us understands it, but I can’t ignore it. I wanted to show her the younglings’ training room, that is all. Something to get her mind off of everything.” 

“The trials, included?” Obi-Wan asked, recalling his conversation with you that day prior after having seen you and Anakin together. 

“The trials?” Anakin’s brows furrowed for a moment, “Right, yes, the trials. She talked to you about them.” 

“Yes, and I don’t think it’s a good idea. She won’t be ready. It would be nearly impossible.” 

“Right, I suppose that’s true.” 

There was a lull, a sudden shift in conversation towards you, what had been keeping you up for months, for all this time, but did either of them really know? Anakin felt as if your connection was stronger, and he was able to indulge in your feelings no matter when and where he was, even going as far as to be able to hear some of your thoughts, the way they scavenged for peace. He felt as if a piece of you had been broken off and given to him, and yet he couldn’t help but feel like there was more going on in that pretty head of yours. As if there was more to the dark circles under your eyes and the steady glances you sent his way throughout the day. 

There was more, and yet he couldn't in any way try and explain it to Obi-Wan. Especially when no one, even your Master, wouldn’t be able to understand these strange feelings that plagued the both of you. It was different from mere senses or being a Jedi. He couldn’t, not without it sounding wrong, not without proving his Master right.

“And what about me?” Anakin found himself unable to ask. 

“What about you?” 

“The trials,” he corrected, having not talked about it with his Master in almost half a year, “I feel as if I’m ready.” 

“Oh, my young apprentice, there is still much to learn in the upcoming months. More than you realize,” Obi-Wan smiled comfortingly, suddenly charmed slightly by the young Jedi’s ambitions. 

“You don’t think I am ready, Master?” Anakin found a knot forming in his chest, one from frustration, for the second time in a matter of minutes. Obi-Wan had already professed to not just trusting Anakin with you, but what about the trials? What about his respectability as a Jedi?

“It’s not that, my Padawan. It’s that you are still very unpredictable. You have far less experience than most Padawans do when they compete in the trials. I have no doubt you can get there but in due time. Where there is less experience, you must make up with wisdom and caution.”

Anakin was angry and disappointed but, at most, worried. Had he been too crass, too big of himself to assume he would be in the trials that year? He thought not. He thought he had proved himself time and time again to Obi-Wan, especially when it came to you. He had protected you, ensured your comfort, and became someone, anyone you could at least have. He had done what any Jedi should when caring for someone on a mission.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan mumbled out sadly after a few lingering seconds, his eyes cast over at the Chosen One at the position he was put in, “What shall you have me do about this? The two of you?”

He had reverted the conversation away from the trials and back to the situation at hand. 

“I wasn’t aware anything had to be done, Master.”

“I don’t want to but I can’t help but fear the consequences in the future if I do nothing.”

“Trust me, Master. There is nothing going on between me and her. You have my word,” Anakin replied, his eyes refusing to blink or look away from Obi-Wan, afraid of what he would do. Afraid that somehow you would be separated, or things would change. “I’m only trying to protect her.”

Another lull between them, a second where Anakin couldn’t do anything else but wait, analyzing his Master’s expressions. It was then Obi-Wan nodded, shoulders relaxing back within his seat, unwilling to really do anything else but accept what he was being told. The force favored the two of you together, Obi-Wan could feel that. Felt it not long after you were brought to the temple. You both were strong, wise, and sometimes oblivious, but you were better when together than apart. You challenged Anakin, kept the Chosen One in line, and were a companion more than anything else. Obi-Wan had no inclination to truly do more than warn the young Jedi. 

“Alright then,” Obi-Wan said, backing down under the intense blue haze that was Anakin’s eyes. But he stopped him as the Padawan turned to leave, “Anakin?” 

“Yes, Master?”

“Go find Y/N and bring her here, please. I want her present when we meet with the Senator.” 

“The Senator?” he asked, brows furrowing as he stood frozen near the door, seeming unaware of the meeting himself. 

“Yes, Senator Amidala will be here later this afternoon to meet with us. I want her there, got it?” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, mouth parting softly unable to even answer his Master’s question. He was suddenly stuck, unable to get much further than the name that was uttered so professionally. Anakin felt his pulse speed up, and his stomach clenched in nerves. 

Senator Amidala. 

He had never thought the day would finally come. After ten years, it finally had. 

“Padmé? She will be here in the city?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why? What does she require of us?” He couldn’t help but ask. 

Obi-Wan sighed, able to hear the breathiness in the young man’s voice, his attention shifted entirely to the one he had never seemed to forget, “I am not sure, my apprentice, but we shall see. Alright, so go on.” 

“Are you an angel?”

“What?”

“An angel. I’ve heard the deep space pilots talk about them. They live on the moons of lego, I think. They’re the most beautiful creatures in the universe.”

The air was stiff, the smell of the old archives enough to have you biting down on your lower lip. The basement of the public archives building was dusty and cold, cold for the amount of worn leather that sat in between the shelves. The shelves decorated with everything that hadn’t been recoded into holograms or online files. Your robes were loose around your frame, and you found yourself pulling them tight around your chest as the attendant led you through the maze of shelves. 

He stops in a far corner and goes down a hall between two shelves; it is so slim you wouldn’t be able to walk with two people side by side. Near the middle of the shelf, he pointed up towards the upper two halves, “This is all that we have. These two top shelves should have everything you’re looking for.” 

You nodded, eyes already scraping over the aging binds, reading the heathered titles with ease, heart in your throat. 

 Stars of L’âme

They were what led you to be sitting in a small corner of the public archives, at a desk hidden behind a few towering shelves, the desktop covered with a small stack of books, some thicker and older than you realized. It had been almost an hour, an hour of you flipping through pages, all while the words from your grandmother echoed within your head. 

“Two lost souls. That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.”

“This sounds crazy,” you thought out loud as you read the descriptions of the particle examinations of the two stars as well as the whole ten pages that hypothesize how they were created outside of the stellar nurseries.

Flipping through another book next to it, you opened it to a random page to find a drawing peering back at you. One where it showed the stars as they were now, unaligned, one favoring the left and the other right. A second drawing mirrored the one next to it, but this one found the stars to almost be stacked upon one another, aligned to create two shining orbs. A small passage was found under the picture, and you realized as you read that this book took on a more mythical viewpoint of the stars. 

One that sounded like a fable unable to fully be true and yet you found yourself leaning into every single word. 

“The Stars of L’âme, having outlived centuries of people, have left the rest of us in mere darkness over the two stars regarding the possibilities and ideal scientific creations; more so how they only coalign every one hundred years. Whose its makers we can’t know, but one can be noted without reason or the ability to ignore — the physics and angling. As it is said and stated, only when the two souls it mirrors finally find one another, their hearts aligning is when the stars are found to finally shift. The previous separation of the stars follows the physical and emotional separation of the two souls prior to understanding the truth. Once both of the intended souls have passed onto the next life, the stars scatter again awaiting for their next love story within the following century.”

It sounded impossible, you couldn’t fathom the logistics as you chewed on your bottom lip, sure to leave it torn and bleeding. The rest of the world seemed to blur along the edges, the confines of reality shifting as you wished, almost pleading for your grandmother to appear — to deny this allegation altogether, to fully set all of your worries to rest. What about the stars did she want to tell you?

It all sounded like a fate that was sure to catch up with you. 

Sighing, you pushed the book away, inhaling to ease the sudden anxiety that had formed, while you pulled another one from the stack. Skimming through the table of contents, you felt your fingers fumble over the names that were presented on the page. Immediately flipping to it, you found yourself on the edge of your seat, unable to ignore the picture printed within it of a couple, the last who claimed to have been the heirs of the Stars of L’âme. They seemed normal, full of admiration as they stared at one another. 

Their birth years, you hummed in interest. It was exactly a hundred years before your own. 

Your fingers traced over the young woman’s face, it seeming not much older than you were now. She was beautiful and, more than anything, beautifully in love. Peering down at the page, you took them in but felt your stomach fall slightly as you noticed it.  

A set of matching scars along their forearms, just as long and thick, matching in every way from the pale coloring to the way it extended from their wrist to halfway across their forearms. Your brows raised in interest, beginning to read the passages that followed, throat tightened at the mere possibilities of what that could have meant. 

You had only gotten halfway through the first page, which hadn’t revealed any new information or anything about the scars when you felt two hands take hold of your chair behind you. You jumped slightly at the feeling of their thumbs pressed along your shoulder blades and their looming form along your back. 

“Hey.” The voice startled you, but you relaxed instantly at the familiarity paired with the softness of it. 

Glancing up, you met those blue eyes of his, staring down at yours with piqued interest, that smirk of his forming as he took in how he had scared you. You must not have felt him approaching, both surprised by it and not knowing that when your mind was so occupied in anything else, you didn’t hear or feel anything that was close to you. 

You smacked his hand slightly, heart rising and falling in surprise, “What are you doing?” 

“Me?” he laughed, eyes flickering over the stacks of books spread along the desk, “What are you doing?”

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, you began to close the books around you, ignoring his question altogether, “Nothing I just—” 

“Please, I could feel you deep in your thoughts from three miles away,” Anakin chuckled, leaning even more over your shoulder, his brows furrowing as he tried to catch sight of what you were reading about, his eyes finding the black and white picture of the couple staring back at him, “What has you thinking so fucking hard?” 

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to close the book before he could take it but his hand smacked against the page of the book enough that it echoed in the small corner of the archives. His brows furrowed slightly down at you while his other hand firmly took a hold of your wrist to stop you from trying to take it. 

“The Stars of L’âme,” he read outline, the foreign word a struggle upon his tongue, but he understood enough to peer back over you and your slumped frame, a sheepish look appearing across your face. “Y/N…” 

Feeling his impending stare and the sudden speed of your pulse, you were ripping your hand out of his and taking the book from him. Closing it loudly, you shoved it to the other side of the desk with all the rest, some you hadn’t even gotten to yet. 

“It’s nothing okay,” you urged but he could see right through you. It was the easiest thing. 

“Right, nothing. It’s not like, it has you sneaking off here in the middle of the day. It’s about your vision, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning down further, his arm hanging off your shoulder, the small touch feeling like too much at that moment. 

“We don’t know if it was vision,” you argued, but at the sudden curl of his lips, it was clear he didn’t believe it to be anything other than that. 

“Well, you could have told me, you know. I could’ve helped,” he offered carefully, with no sarcasm or teasing tone in sight. It had your heart softening, your embarrassment fading enough that you were sure your resolve would follow. 

You were scared, though. Scared of what you would find out. Scared that this strange connection with him had something to do with this. You were just scared, period. 

“No, you couldn’t have,” you replied, the tone and your words stinging him slightly evident in the slight cringe that appeared on his face. 

He ignored it. “Well, did you find anything?”

“No, not anything useful.”

Before he could say anything else, his eyes just searching yours, you found yourself picking at your nails, a sense of nervousness forming. “What are you doing here?” 

“Obi-Wan sent me to find you,” he said, not missing a single beat. 

You straightened up, “What?” 

“It’s fine,” he noticed the panic right away, enough that his hand slipped to your shoulder with ease, his torso somehow pressed along your back enough that you relaxed, “We just have to get back. Senator Amidala will be arriving soon.” 

“A Senator?” 

Even as you said it, you couldn’t ignore the sudden pause that appeared as Anakin said her name. Like he had to prepare how to exactly say it. The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, and it caused your stomach to twist slightly, a sick feeling appearing at the implications of what that could mean. Not quite understanding it. 

“Yeah, she has requested a meeting with us for some reason. Master just wants us back to prepare for her arrival.” 

You wanted to ask more, deter from this task at hand, and put your attention back into the books, but you knew you couldn’t. Not then. Not with him there. Not when you both possibly had been assigned to something by the council. It was the only reason that came to mind that you were meeting with this Senator. It filled you with dread, a sudden uneasiness forming at the responsibility that could possibly linger. 

There was nothing else to do though but nod and stand from the small desk. With one stack of books in your hands and the other in Anakin’s you returned them to the attendant, thanking him, before following Anakin out of the public archives. His eyes followed yours for a brief moment before he lead you further into the city towards the temple. 

His attention drifted, you felt it first. In your chest, the way that string between you seemed to wane slightly while he stared forward, voice silent. A furrowed expression played along his features, one that had you mesmerized, able to feel the weight of his deep thoughts but without the implications of them. Still a few blocks from the temple, you couldn’t help but ask. 

“What is it?” 

Your voice, almost like a solace, pulled his eyes to you, a mere hum emitting from his pink lips.

“I can see your brain turning over there. Can practically feel it suffocating me as well, so what is it?”

“It’s nothing,” he replied, the same words you had said to him before in the pubic archives hitting you hard. 

“Ani…” 

“I’m just wondering why they require us, is all? What the council wants from us?” he explained, but you couldn’t believe him. 

Not when a sudden thickness seemed to appear in your chest from the mere effect on him upon even mentioning the Senator’s name. A devastation that seemed to only weigh heavier on you the longer you sat in silence, it only being confirmed as you stood in the elevator of Senator Amidala’s building, leading you, Anakin, and Master Kenobi up to her penthouse. 

Her name was one you had heard of; it was hard not to when you previously had a life involved within government, often needing to interact with the Senate, yet you couldn’t place her face with the name. You hadn’t met, that you were sure of, and yet the sudden thought of doing so left you afraid. Afraid as silence loomed with Anakin’s foot tapping unsteadily and his breath uneasy. 

You turned to look at him as he began to brush his hands along his robes, smoothing out any wrinkles. Obi-Wan noticed it, too, and met your stare with a certain smile you couldn’t place. As if he knew something you didn’t or rather found amusement from the Padawan’s actions. 

“You seem a little on edge,” Obi-Wan said then, gaining Anakin’s nervous attention. 

“Not at all,” Anakin denied, his eyes somehow flickering to yours, able to feel you staring at him. 

“I haven’t felt you this tense since we fell into that nest of Gundarks.” 

“You fell into that nightmare, Master, and I rescued you, remember?” He was smug about it, but only slightly. 

“Oh, yes.”

You found yourself subtly bumping your arm with Anakin's, while Master didn’t react as you imagined he would. Instead, a deep-setted laugh appeared one that caused Anakin to start laughing as well, even as his blue eyes flickered over to your form, still leaning close to him. 

Shaking his head at his Master, Obi-Wan set his sights back on the Padawan, barely even acknowledging your close presence. “You’re sweating. Relax. Take a deep breath.”

Obi-Wan watched the subtle interaction that occurred then. The way your face furrowed in confusion, almost a slight worry pulling your lips into a fine line, and a hesitancy on Anakin’s part. His head tilted slightly in your direction, and you found his blue orbs looking at you from the corner of his eye before replying. 

“I haven’t seen her in ten years, Master,” he admitted, exhaling slowly, his nerves so palpable then. 

A small smile appeared on Obi-Wan’s face, and you couldn’t come to understand it, the slight amusement that appeared over Anakin’s nervousness. You couldn’t, not as your own reaction was barely hideable. You turned to face the elevator doors in front of you, feeling suddenly inclined to take a step away from Anakin, enough that your arm was no longer brushing his. 

A thought that you couldn’t ignore even when the three of you stepped off the elevator to greet a Junior Representative who went by Jar Jar. The tall lanky creature bypassed your attention rather quickly as you couldn’t help but keep sending glances over to Anakin. 

Worst of all, you didn’t even know why you cared so much. What about this Senator could have you so uncomfortable? Threatened over what? Your time with Anakin. 

What good would it do anymore? 

Surely Master Obi-Wan would do something to come between the two of you to ensure his spot on the council stays and, in his mind, keep the two of you from violating the code.

Your feet dragged slightly across the floor, even as Jar Jar led you away from the elevator into another room of the penthouse, revealing a few figures standing off by the windows. You inhaled slowly to find one of them turn, and a smile appeared across her face. She had to have been the Senator, and it brought a certain nervous twitch in your fingers. 

She was young. Young and beautiful and elegant. Everything that a representative was supposed to be. Everything that a queen was supposed to be; in her long dress, decorated in glitter and the finest materials with her hair pulled back out of her face, drawing attention to her soft features. Hiding slightly behind Anakin, body turned away from him, you watched as Obi-Wan bowed to greet her. “Pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

“It’s been far too long, Master Kenobi,” she greeted back, her voice mature, sounding professional, and as if it was going to hold Anakin’s attention forever. It seemed he had gotten hers, too, as she looked over Obi-Wan’s shoulder, a curious smile forming at the sight before her, “Ani?” 

The mere shortened version of his name curling from her tongue so effortlessly brought another wave of shock through you, one that stung far worse than you realized. Even as it sounded so casual, so perfect, that he had to step forward a shy smile of his own forming unable to keep his eyes from taking her in. 

“My goodness you’ve grown.”

“So have you. Grown more beautiful, I mean,” he admitted, it slipping enough to have everyone’s eyes on him, “Well, for a Senator, I mean.”

He chuckled awkwardly, trying to rid the surprised look of awe that appeared on his face. She smiled back one bashful as they both noted the way Obi-Wan glanced over his shoulder to you in slight understanding. One you hadn’t known for sure until then. That, in fact, this Senator, Senator Amidala, knew Anakin, and he very much knew her. 

“Huh Ani, you’ll always be that little boy I knew in Tatooine.” 

His expression faltered; you saw it in the way his shoulders dropped, his smile faltering at her subtly shutting down his advances. Quickly, a mere blip as she then noticed you, too, lingering back behind the taller man, fingers folded together. She looked at the robes, the tight-fitting navy ones that appeared somehow pretty on you, and the way your hair was pulled tightly out of your face, revealing a complexion that seemed so clear. 

Her dark brow arched in curiosity, finding you already looking at her, “I’m afraid we haven’t ever met.” 

Sighing, you stepped forward, already able to feel both expectant looks from the two of me in front of you. Obi-Wan, taking hold of your forearm, gently brought you closer, enough that you were standing in between him and Anakin, suddenly feeling trapped and under the watchful gaze of the Senator. 

Her eyes glanced from Anakin to you, the way his attention suddenly seemed to be on your profile, trying to take in everything about your expression. 

“This is my second Padawan—” 

“Second?” Padmé chuckled in surprise, “You have two now? I wasn’t sure if that was even allowed.” 

“There are exceptions. The Council granted me this one ask.” 

Her smile widened then, eyes never leaving yours as she spoke, “Lucky Ani. I’m sure the extra challenge benefits him.”

It was then she stepped closer, offering an outstretched hand to you. With a second of hesitation, you met her advance, slipping your own hand in hers for her to shake. 

“Senator Padmé Amidala.” 

You nodded, “Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N.” 

At the sound of your name, it seeming so long since it was even pronounced out loud together, her hand stopped, the shaking ceasing while a curious look now filling her eyes, one of recognition slightly. “Y/L/N?” 

“Yes?” 

“Hm, that’s a familiar name, one I feel is common. Have we, by chance, met before?” she observed, eyes glancing to the two men on the other side of you. Anakin’s hands tightened, a furrow appearing between his brows as he looked between her and you. His jaw ticked as he met the Senator’s gaze. 

It was then, the Padawan stepped forward, blocking you slightly from her and her questions. His body broke your hand from hers, and you couldn’t help but questionably share a look with your Master as Anakin interrupted, “We should sit down, my lady. Talk about why we’re really here.”

You looked expectantly from Anakin over to Obi-Wan to find another wave of confusion pass over his features. But no one dared to say anything against the Chosen One and entered the living room. Sitting across from the Senator, you somehow once again were sat between the two men. They both leaned in, attention put fully on Padmé, and though you should have been doing the same, a discomfort had formed in your chest. So much so that your mind seemed to drift elsewhere, to the Padawan sat next to you more so. 

Why had he not told you he had known Senator Amidala? What could have been within their past that he hadn’t or wished not to? There was something he wasn’t telling you clearly by the way Obi-Wan had been alluding to his nerves in the elevator. Even when you had asked him earlier, before arriving, what had been on his mind, he had brushed you off. Something he hadn’t done in months, not since before you two had come to terms with what it meant being Padawans alongside one another. Even as you could feel the gentleness of his pulse quickening while his eyes doted on her, he still tried to hide it from you. 

“I don’t need more security. I need answers. I want to know who is trying to kill me.”

“We’re here to protect you, Senator,” Obi-Wan assured, “Not to start an investigation.”

You found yourself lulling away, not able to pay attention until Anakin spoke up from beside you with such a conviction that it had you staring at him, jaw tense. “We will find out who is trying to kill you, Padmé. I promise you.” 

You felt Obi-Wan peering past you at Anakin, taken aback himself but the sudden response that was pulled so freely from the young man without even a simple thought. “We will not exceed our mandate, my young Padawan learner.” 

Anakin ignored the looks the both of you were giving him, instead finding much of his focus back on the beautiful Senator, “I meant it in the interest of protecting her, Master. Of course.” 

“We will not go through this exercise again, Anakin,” Obi-Wan scolded; it was enough to have both you and the Senator following the small squealing match between the two men, “And you will pay attention to my lead.” 

“Why? Why else do you think we were assigned to her if not to find the killer. Protection is a job for local security, not Jedi. It’s overkill, Master. Investigation is implied in our mandate,” he challenged, and you couldn’t stop yourself then but to reach over and pinch his arm through his robes. He stiffened under your sudden touch, a frown appearing across his lips as he hissed, “Ow. What?” 

You sent him a warning look, brows furrowed slightly as you sensed the frustrations and slight embarrassment at the reality of Anakin defying Obi-Wan in front of others, especially Senator Amidala. He was trying to be prideful, show off his wisdom and bravery in turn to holding her attention. 

“We will do exactly as the council has instructed,” Obi-Wan stated. 

Anakin looked away from you at the sight of your soft glare to find the eyes of your Master. Silence filled the room then, a waiting game of who would back down first.

“And you will learn your place young one.”

There was another pause, a moment where Anakin’s lip folded into itself into a small pout, his head bowing slightly under the intense gaze of Obi-Wan. Your Master took a second to exhale, letting the frustrations fade as he turned back to face the Senator, her eyes still glancing between the two men.

“Perhaps with merely your presence, the mystery surrounding this threat will be revealed,” she said, breaking the tensions slightly, but you found yourself stiffening at the sight of her soft gaze meeting Anakin’s sunken form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will retire.”

The Senator stood with her Representatives following, as well as Obi-Wan, who bowed in a sign of respect. You felt frozen, though, feet glued to the ground even as Anakin had stood too. You felt your Master’s eyes on you then, a gentle glare settling along the side of your face, but you could only stare forward, up at the Senator, stomach clenched, a dread looming over your head. One that had begun as soon as Anakin had even said her name in the public archives. Senator Amidala. 

Knowing how disrespectful you were being, you stood, hands folded gently behind your back. She took you in once more, a curious glint forming, and before you had even realized, she was smiling softly, “Actually, before I do. Y/N, is it? May I speak with you for a minute? I believe I owe you the honor of becoming more acquainted.” 

The air had been sucked from your lungs. That’s what you believed as you stood with your mouth becoming dryer by the second as all eyes in the room found you, your frame taller than the Senator and yet seeming suddenly afraid. It wasn’t that you were afraid of her, or her status. You were supposed to be the next queen of Bakura, there was no one who could intimidate you by their power alone. No, the truth was you were afraid of her because of Anakin, because of how he had blatantly felt about her, always had it seemed. 

Obi-Wan was staring at you expectantly, and you knew that you couldn’t deny the Senator of this request, especially considering you were as much her protector as the rest of them. But you were hesitant, it only deepening as you felt a warm palm suddenly pressed along your lower back. Even though your thick robes, the touch was so much, almost making your skin vibrate at its sudden appearance. 

Glancing up at Anakin, his towering frame too became way too much, his blue eyes set on yours suddenly, almost like it had been the first time since you both had entered the room with the Senator. He was hesitant to let you go, something you didn’t understand then because how could you?

Offering him a gentle nod, you smiled towards the Senator, who had silently been watching the interaction, curious, it seemed, by the intentions behind Anakin’s lingering touch. You wouldn’t grant her any more time to think about it as you gestured towards the door for her to lead the way. She seemed pleased, and as you followed her out of the sitting room, you could feel the Chosen One’s intense gaze stained across your back the whole entire walk out of the room. 

“He’s protective,” she said then, as soon as you had rounded the corner into a nearby hall, away from everyone else. 

Her observation had you almost tripping over your feet, as well as over the possibility that she had only asked to speak to you to talk about Anakin. It made your blood settle, an inkling of nerves appearing in your chest of how this all would go.

Something in you told you, it would all fall apart. Maybe not now, or tomorrow, but eventually and you would be the one left crumbled away in the dust. 

You tried to smile, but you found it more so resembled a cringe, “Yes, he is. Though at times he doesn’t need to be.” 

She hummed then as if it was something she could relate to and understand completely. “He only means well. Has been told his whole life of those he must protect, of his responsibilities presented from the prophecy.” 

“Yes, but I must say it can be too much. It feels as if he is undermining me in front of you Senator, but I guess he can’t quite help it.” 

Her dark brow arched then, interest piquing as your admission slipped. Noticing the way she waited, waited for you to explain, you felt your face fall, cheeks heating up at what you had done. It was something you knew Anakin wished people didn’t know about. Who you were before you arrived at the temple and became a Padawan in training. He worried about what could happen if people knew, knew that the princess of Bakura was alive. Yet, you couldn’t help but reveal it all to her, the woman who held his attention so easily just from her presence alone. She wouldn’t ever have to speak, and you knew Anakin wouldn’t care — just to stare at her all day would be a privilege in his eyes. 

“Y/L/N,” she said it as almost a mere whisper, as if she was trying to place it, the familiarity, the essence behind the name. A name that once filled you with so much power. “I know it from somewhere. I know I do. I suppose there is a reason, isn’t there? Why did Anakin stop me from asking before? Why he is so protective?”

“Senator, you have to understand, I wasn’t always a Jedi. I only became Master Kenobi’s Padawan some time ago,” you exhaled then, knowing there was no way around it, not if she would be there everyday intervening in every interaction, in every sole moment you once had with him to yourself, “My father sent Obi-Wan and Anakin to me under dire circumstances.” 

“Y/L/N,” she repeated it slowly, almost afraid to say it out loud, but as she heard it, the sound of it coming from her own tongue, her eyes widened in realization. “Your father, Y/F/N  Y/L/N, the king of Bakura.” 

“You understand then? Why. He is protective, Senator, but merely out of obligation." You, unable to stop yourself from letting the truth spill over and over, said it so casually as if to put more distance between you and Anakin, an explanation for his affection.

“I can see why you would see it that way, but you have to know for Ani, it is never out of obligation,” she explained softly, her expression unreadable as she spoke of him, “Though it’s been years since we parted, I know that he doesn’t take the weight of it on thoughtlessly. He is very passionate; he doesn’t act unless it is in accordance with his heart. And for what it’s worth, I offer my deepest condolences, your highness.” 

You sighed, only able to offer a sad smile, chest clenching at the title, one you only heard now when Anakin wished to tease you, sure to bring a smile to your face. It sounded so wrong then coming from her, far too formal for a person you only shared a resemblance to. You weren’t her anymore, the princess, the future queen. You felt as if it was a life you hadn’t even lived. 

“A princess turned Jedi,” she chuckled, somehow it never once sounded cruel. It couldn’t, you knew that, even with Anakin swooning over the sight of her, the sudden twang that appeared within your chest, nothing she ever did could be done out of cruelty. “That’s a very powerful thing. I can tell by the way you’re looking at me, you haven’t accepted that yet.”

You couldn’t accept anything she was saying to you, your mind drifting rather to the loud feelings one room away, the way they were hurt like a puppy that had just been kicked — somehow losing all respectability because of one woman. 

“Well, I will leave you,” she offered then, noting the frown across your face, “I shall retire for the night, but just know, I am glad Master Kenobi and Ani were able to promise your protection as well as they will mine.”

With one last smile, one just as radiant as all the rest, you watched her retreat further into the hall towards the elevator. As soon as her presence was gone, you exhaled, no relief felt at the sudden challenge that this mission had brought. It seemed it all would be different then, even down to the pull you felt in your chest when it came to Anakin Skywalker. 

Perhaps Obi-Wan had been right. 

Perhaps the stars were right, too, about something you couldn’t quite explain for any other reason. 

Yet you knew it couldn’t be, not even if you were to outlive the pain that surely would succumb to you if it were true. 

Evident enough, as you stepped back into the room, Obi-Wan’s frame retreated with one of the Senator’s security and Anakin still where you had left him, in the middle of the room, that worried expression still present on his face. You approached slowly, his back turned to you, leaving nothing but the small ponytail and the swallowing robes to be remembered in your mind for that moment. An urgency was evident in his frame, something you could feel and sense even before you had heard his voice, even before you had heard what he said. 

The very thing you hadn’t expected or wished to ever hear again. 

 “I’ve thought about her every day since we’ve parted, and she’s forgotten me completely.”

You couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. You felt confined to that one spot, even as the bustle continued around you. As people filtered in and out of the room, you couldn’t fucking move. You thought you would’ve been fine. Come nightfall, come the time when the lights within the large penthouse were dimmed, nothing but a few lamps allowing the city to really glow and the stars to be vibrant. Yet as you sat there, knees hugged closely to your chest, it still felt different, suddenly everything did. In a matter of one day, the mere act of staring up at the sky could no longer provide comfort. Especially as a certain dullness seemed to ignite within your chest that hadn’t been there before. 

“Master has gone to check the perimeter. The corridors are clear, too. How are things up here?” 

His voice was too much for you, somehow pulling you from the depths of your mind. You didn’t look away from the window. You wouldn’t, not even as his footsteps echoed along the floor, his frame so close then and towering over you. He was warm and always had been far too inviting for you. It was annoying. 

“Hey,” he spoke again, but you found yourself still unwilling to turn to speak, to give in. He huffed then in frustration, your silence something he never liked to hear. “Y/N?” 

You couldn’t take it, not if it were true. It had been one hundred years since the stars had last aligned, chosen a couple to use, to live through. Anakin was too much, too enticing, too beautiful, too powerful. He had control over you, the way you felt, what you thought about. It was dangerous. 

“It’s fine for you to do this in the temple. Ignore me, but here? We’re on a mission, on orders by the council itself. To ensure Padmé’s protection, you can’t do this. Not here,” he scolded, his tone suddenly hardening.

It seemed he had become short with you enough that you hadn’t even noticed the gentle flick of his wrist, but you felt it as soon as it happened. The unseen force of your face being turned towards him, harsher than you thought it would be. Forced to look at him, you glared, hating the way he used the force on you. His blue eyes stared down at you, tracing the etchings of your expression, the way it was anything but soft. His hand hung at his side, fingers outstretched, but they relaxed upon realizing how you felt, able to match it with the sudden pull in his chest. 

“She is fine,” you finally said, the words cold upon your tongue. 

His jaw tensed, “You’re upset with me.”

“I’m not,” you rebutted, “I just wish you wouldn’t handle me like that.” 

“What do you mean?” He said, jaw loosening slightly to let a smile appear; it was small, almost appearing like a smirk. His annoyance faded to be replaced by something else, and you couldn’t deny that his playfulness only made you angrier. 

“Stop it. Don’t look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” he chuckled amusingly. 

You stood then, feeling the confines start to bend, melting at the will that was his pretty eyes and bashful smile. Your frustrations were no match for Anakin Skywalker, especially when he looked at you like that. 

“I’m supposed to be mad at you,” you professed, reaching out to shove him back lightly, but his hands took hold of both your wrists, stopping the movement short. Suddenly, you felt trapped; the warmth of his fingertips on your skin was the only thing you could focus on. 

“Why?” he asked, a single brow raising with interest, “What did I do?” 

You shoved it all down then; the need to lean into his touch, to relax under his gaze, all of it, though it seemed the stars were in favor of such an action. Unless was this how it had always felt for everyone? This act of feeling completely under someone else’s control, as if the weight of the heart could defy any other human emotion. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you knew Senator Amidala?” You ripped your hands free from his. 

“Really?” he asked, almost surprised that out of everything, it could be that, “That’s what you're upset about? That I hadn’t told you about Padmé?”

“Yes, you acted as if she were just any other Senator. That this mission isn’t any different.” 

“It’s not,” he replied, quicker than you thought he would. 

“Anakin, don’t do that. Don’t lie,” you sighed, shoulders deflating, all of your confidence leaving you, as well as the warmth that seemed to once appear in your chest at being able to sense what he felt, “You are quite fond of her.” 

That teasing on his end was gone then, his expression rigid, breath uneven under your eyes. He glanced around the room quickly, frustration forming again, one that appeared so much like it had earlier when he was arguing with Obi-Wan. Except this time, it was being directed towards you. “And so what if I am? What, you’re going to go and tell Master about this?” 

You shook your head, trying to hold it all together, trying to be so strong to block him out at that moment, to keep him from being able to feel just how much it had hurt you. You couldn’t even lie to yourself about it; it had pained you to hear the simple admission. “I don’t have to tell him anything, Anakin. It is quite obvious how you feel.” 

“Which is what?” he demanded from you, voice low but cold, “You and I both know the truth that is our fate. Attachment is forbidden. Possession is forbidden, so even if I did feel whatever it is that I do, nothing could ever happen.” 

That furrow in his brow had reappeared as he scowled down at you. Suddenly, so much anger was apparent. You could feel it — in the way goosebumps arose on your skin, and your pulse seemed to match his. The way it had sped up. The vein in the side of his neck was erect as he glared once again, no longer just angry about the Senator’s wishes to not engage in his advances but the rules that had confined his life.

“But then there’s compassion,” you whispered, the words almost coming out as a mumble. 

His face twitched at your words, almost as if it could soothe and fix everything. The anger melted away, and you were met with the innocence that still filled his blue eyes. “Compassion?” 

“It’s essential to a Jedi’s life. Compassion, which could be defined as unconditional love. In some ways, some might say, we are encouraged to love.”

[forever--darling]

blurbs

does anyone have any hayden christenson or anakin skywalker blurb ideas. I am feeling very deprived and have been struggling with having motivation the last few days to write.

if there is a lot, I might introduce blurb nights one day a week, to give you guys stuff to read in between longer posts. 🥹

[forever--darling]

the spoken code

summary: it's been six months within the temple & suddenly, you can't shake that this connection with anakin skywalker seems out of the ordinary, even among jedi, enough so you are prompted with a sign from the force itself, only eliciting more confusion & concerns.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 14.0k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, mention of reader's past life, swearing, fluff, soulmate au, teasingaotc!anakin, lots of plot development for these two, pre-angst

series masterlist | 03

Darkness, something you had become quite accustomed to for months. It was waning, though, you knew it; the comfort, the desire to lean into it until it swallowed you whole. It was dissipating day by day, being replaced by something else entirely, by someone else entirely. Yet, you still couldn’t understand it. This hold, this plan, the force had written out for the two of you. 

The more you searched, meditated, and felt inclined to ask Master Obi-Wan, the more the answers seemed further and further from clear. What did they want from you? What did the higher powers of the world want? Why did you suddenly seem so important within the plays of humanity? You couldn’t know. 

A light appeared, pulling you from your thoughts, seeming to be as loud as your lingering footsteps among the dark tiles. Near the end of the hallway, it glowed brightly, a soft blue, enticing you to move closer and closer. 

“Hello?” you called out, your voice a mere echo among the long black walls and black floors. All that was in response to the wallowing silence was but the sound of a faint step off into the distance. One and then perhaps two. 

That quietness loomed, and your chest tightened, confusion the only feeling you could grasp as you continued forward. Reaching for your belt, you found the spot empty where your lightsaber usually sat. As you peered down, you realized then, in the dim light alone, you weren’t in your robes either. The familiar tunic and pants are somehow gone. Replaced by a long white skirt that brushed softly along your bare ankles, paired with a tight long sleeve just as white. It was small along your wrists but comfortable, forming around you as a second skin. 

Another faint step could be heard just off to your left. You turned quickly but were only met with the pitch black. Your pulse spiked. “Who’s there?”

Once again, the silence was the only response. Sighing heavily, you turned back to the bright light that remained floating within midair, dauntingly so, as if daring you to step forward. With no other sign in sight, that was exactly what you did. You walked forward, carefully until you were face to face with the bright light. With furrowed brows and eyes reflected by the strange orb, some feeling suddenly washed over. A need to stretch out your arm, to brush your fingers among it. A certain impulse that only grew. 

With no Master to advise you over your shoulder or the tall chosen one to talk it over with, you couldn’t help but reach forward, fingers outstretched. With the smallest brush, a warmth appeared first in your fingertips and then among the empty space in your chest. 

It took a second, no more, before the ball of light disappeared, erupting more so and soaking upon the walls before you. Your whole sight was washed over with brightness, and you couldn’t help but shield them, a wince falling from your lips. 

A moment passed, and you felt almost afraid to drop your face from your elbow until you heard the lightest laugh. One far too familiar that it had caused your chest to tighten and almost skip. As you dropped your arm to your side, you gasped in surprise. Surprised to find the darkness completely gone but bathed in so much sunlight, all of which washed over cream and beige-colored pillars that towered above you, tangled among the thickest branches and veins stringed with white flowers. 

“Grandmother,” the young voice laughed again, it filled with so much life. You had almost forgotten it once sounded like that. 

You turned, and your eyes widened slightly at the sight before you. There within the arbor sat a small girl no older than eight, wearing a white long skirt and a long sleeve that matched your own. Her hair was long and pulled back out of her face in a low knot, small gold butterfly clips laced within the strands of hair. Her face was bare of any invisible scars, evidence of misfortunes. She was pure. 

“What?” The older female voice came from the adult sitting close to the child, legs outstretched, long greying curls bouncing along her shoulders, “Y/N, my darling, are you saying you don’t believe me, the former queen?”

Grandmother. 

The eight-year-old version of yourself giggled again, shaking your head with the uttermost oblivion, “No, it can’t be true. They couldn’t fly, at least not way up there.” 

Your heart ached at the sight then, at the mere innocence that once reflected your skin in such oblivious happiness. Your Grandmother chuckled, that warm comforting sound you had forgotten about not long after she passed when you were no more than fifteen. A soft smile formed across her aging face, so much peace there and then as the sounds of Bakura echoed around the arbor. 

“Shall I tell you another story then?” the former queen asked, only to have the young girl nod eagerly. “Alright, let me think for a moment?” 

“Nona,” you interrupted, small eyes peering up through the arbor as if looking for what could only be invisible during that time of day, “The stars.” 

“Which stars?” 

“You know which one’s.” 

The older woman chuckled, acting as if she didn’t for a mere moment only to cave at the sight of the small frown that filtered over the young princess’s lips. She, of course, knew which ones because they were the same stars who lined the window of your chambers every night. It didn’t matter how much the earth spun or the seasons changed; it remained in the same spot, unmoving, unaligned amongst the rest that moved with life. “Oh, you mean the Stars of L’âme?” 

The Soul Stars. 

The young princess nodded, her little head already filling with so many questions. You knew because it was the same expression you still got — furrowed brows and bottom lip tucked with ease between your teeth as you thought long and hard. 

“My darling princess, I have told you that story many times before. You know how they came to be.” 

“Yes, through a collision of energies in the form of pressure and heat.” 

The former queen hummed in agreement, smile widening at the great memory her granddaughter proved to have, “And what makes them so special?” 

“They formed outside of the stellar nurseries, but I just don’t understand it.” 

“Understand what, my darling?” 

That confused look only deepened, and you remembered fondly how the story you had forgotten until now went, the mysteries never quite aligning with reason. “How is it even possible?” 

“Sometimes, even when things are possible, it doesn’t mean we are deemed worthy of knowing. Sometimes it is better for us not to know. Remember, what I told you about these stars. Though they formed outside of the stellar nurseries, they formed for a reason. A reason that only occurs every hundred years. Can you remember?” 

Your heart skipped then at the thought, the memory forming behind your fuzzy mind that you hadn’t thought back to for years. The younger version of yourself smiled warmly at the thought, “Yes, every hundred years, two souls are chosen by whom we don’t know. When they are born, they seem connected just as the two stars in the sky.” 

“Two lost souls,” your grandmother corrected, “That is something to remember most of all. This act is never random. This choice by the greater powers of our worlds. It is never a mere act of happening but by some sort of fate itself.” 

The young princess slumped for a moment, the story, the long winding details becoming a lot for her to handle. Even the version of yourself standing off to the side of the arbor found it difficult to understand then in your adulthood. It felt as if you were hearing it all over again for the first time, and as if the force, the stars themselves, wanted to relay a message, you reached up to lay your hand over your chest. 

You hesitated, unaware of what it all meant, and your stomach twisted in nervousness. 

“Nona?” 

“Yes?” the former queen chuckled again as the questions never seemed to cease with the little one who found her head always up in the clouds, believing in the untouchable of everything she couldn’t see but feel. 

“Why have the stars never aligned? The two never seem to find each other.”

Your grandmother’s smile remained stoic, but the lines around her eyes deepened. So much so that you found yourself pushing away from the wall of the arbor just to get a better view of it. Just as she went to open her mouth, sure to answer the young princess’s every question asked, another voice boomed from just off the steps of the arbor. “Mother.” 

A figure emerged, and you felt your breath fall short upon your tongue, unsure of how to even react as the looming frame of the current queen and your mother stepped within the arbor, eyes narrowed down at the sight of you cross-legged in front of the older woman. 

“Mom,” the young girl sighed, slightly disappointed that she had interrupted her grandmother’s answer. 

Your feet suddenly stopped, and you felt stuck in the ground, peering over at the beauty that had been your mother. The queen of Bakura, the love of your father’s life. The very person he left the Jedi order to be with. The only woman to have ever held a light to his heart other than you. She appeared so young, only ten or so years older than you were now. In all the time without her, the days passing into nights, her face had blurred, the image of her having become so unclear over the years.

Pictures were limited, and suddenly graced with her presence after so long, you couldn’t help but finally accept that your father had perhaps been right when he constantly told you how much you reminded him of her. You were almost her spitting image, and suddenly that ache returned, fully, and you had to grasp even tighter to your chest, just wishing she would turn — would see you, look you in the eyes after so long. 

“Y/N, go on, your father wishes to see you?” the cold tone brought you by surprise as this was something you couldn’t remember. This side of her. 

“But—” 

“Go,” the queen sighed, rubbing her temple. 

The young princess shared a last longing gaze with her grandmother before running off. As soon as she was gone, your mother turned to her own as the former older queen stood from where she had been sitting on an orange-knit blanket. With her arms crossed over her chest and feet tapping impatiently along the wood of the arbor, you couldn’t help but step even closer, unsure if this part was a dream or rather something else, you somehow were being granted to see. 

“Why do you have to go and tell her those stories?” 

Your grandmother sighed, a look of disappointment appearing, “Stories? Is that what you see them as now?” 

“That is what they are,” your mother argued. 

The former queen tutted softly, frown deepening at the thought, “Does the king think so too? Your husband?” 

“Don’t bring him into this.” 

Your ears perked up at the mention of your father, him still so apparent and so clear to you that the mention of him hurt. Your mother’s eyes darkened while your grandmother only appeared so solemn at the sight of her own daughter’s frustrations. “How can I not? He felt it from the day that she was born.” 

“Mother…” 

“He is a Jedi, so don’t you dare diminish it. There is something entirely wonderful here, and you are so worried about hiding it.” 

With parted lips, your eyes deepened, a weird feeling washing over you. You tried to lean into it, the force, your senses, but it seemed they had no ability here. Not on these two people who no longer were alive to think these current thoughts or recant them. Instead, you could only stand there and listen, feeling as if the world was ending with each and everything they said that seemed to dance around the conflict at hand. 

Your mother sighed, that anger fading into nothing but almost sadness, in despair, “We don’t know what or if there is anything here, and I’m not going to put outlandish thoughts inside my child’s head.” 

“So you are never going to tell her?” Nona asked, that shame in her daughter apparent more than ever. 

Your mother didn't seem affected by it, not one bit, as she shook her head, glare still settled across her beautiful face, “There is nothing to tell.” 

The coldness raked a shiver across your form, and as you reached out to touch her, your mother, the person you had trusted most in all your life, you felt the scenery fade, almost melting. You were ripped away by a force you couldn’t recognize, something heavy. A small yell fell from your parted lips as your stomach sank and your head spun with uncertainty. Before you realized it, you were bolting up, a heavy breath falling from your parted lips in surprise. 

It took a matter of seconds to recognize where you were. The room was dark besides the light of the moons sneaking in through the windows kept untouched by the curtains. The sheet and blankets pooled around your frame near your waist as you were raked with unsteady breaths. Sweat gathered along your brow, and your throat was tight, and it suddenly seemed the weight of the world was falling upon you. So much uncertainty and confusion at the dream that pierced you. The images so clear so vivid, of Bakura, Nona, your mother — the memory that had to have been real as you stared back almost in a mirror of the past at a young princess completely blind to the future before her. 

Wiping the sweat from your hairline, you pushed back your long hair from your face and eased your breathing down to a simple inhale and exhale. Silence once again encompassed the air around you, and you felt it all slowly start to swarm your mind, almost like a carousel sure to never stop its incessant turning. You knew the noises within your mind wouldn’t stop then, at least not for the rest of the night, so you pushed the blankets even further from your frame and stood from the bed. 

Finding a robe to pull over your night-slip, you left your chambers, the door closing behind you with a gentle hiss. The temple was quiet and dark, night still gracing the city in peace. The floor was cold against your feet, but you didn’t care to go back and find shoes, not when it was somehow welcoming to the immense heat you had felt when you woke up. That discomfort still lingered as you walked the empty halls, unsure of what or where to go. 

Far from your chambers, near the other end of the temple, you stumbled along a corridor that wasn’t familiar and often went unnoticed by many of the Jedi within the temple as it was much narrower than the others, void of many rooms within it. Feeling like you were called to go down it, you walked steadily until you came upon a windowsill sitting right next to a large window, expanding most of the opposing wall. Peering outside, a small sense of relief almost appeared at the sight of the city before you bathed by the dark sky decorated with far too many stars. The sky has always been able to bring comfort ever since you were a child. 

It seemed that could have very well been because of Nona and her stories — the ones that surrounded the stars, the planets, the unseen forces you couldn’t begin to understand how she knew about. Sitting upon the windowsill, legs outstretched and robes spilling over the edges, you stared up while the visions from the night reappeared; reminding you just how much you yourself couldn’t get what any of it meant. 

There was something strange that had happened that night. You didn’t want to admit it — not even as you had felt it as the weight of your body sunk deeply into the mattress of your bed. Your breathing had shallowed out quickly, not having known when the stars and the sky of Cruscant had faded into darkness. Into the most comfortable of darknesses soon to only be replaced. Replaced far quickly. Quicker than it ever had before, as if the universe was nullifying all the former pain that had been written in deep pen across your soul. 

Peering up, you found the stars, the two that seemed to never escape you — both so bright, a strange tint of light blue, and just as you had imagined them to be, they were unaligned. The upper one slightly shifted towards the left, while the lower one favored the right. You knew then it appeared just the same as always. 

What are you trying to tell me? 

It was a silent ask, one that weighed quite heavy, so much so you hadn’t felt it. 

That familiarity that seemed to follow you around wherever you went. Instead, he was given away by his footsteps, his shoes appearing much louder than your bare feet had been. Your fingers shifted upon your knees without even realizing, the air warming around them as the voice filled your ears. 

“Hey,” it was gentle, soft, as if trying not to startle you. 

At the immediate familiarity, a small huff escaped your lips, eyes closing for a mere moment at the awful timing. Then as your attention returned to your surroundings, the energy of him became just as apparent as it always had been. Sighing, you opened your eyes again and turned to look within the small corridor. He was leaning against the windowsill near your feet, having come from around the corner without you even noticing. 

“What are you doing here?” you asked, just as softly back, as you took in his frame, unaware you even had been doing it. 

His hair was slightly mousled from sleep, the skin around his eyes red as if he had been rubbing them. Long loose pants covered his lower half while a robe was tied quickly around his waist, but not tight enough as you were able to see the bare skin of his chest peeking through. You tried to ignore the sudden stir you felt just at the mere sight alone, hoping more than anything he couldn’t sense every single thought running through your mind. 

Stepping closer, the light from the moon washed over him incandescently, and you scolded yourself internally for having even noticed. Especially now that most, if not all, the frustrations towards him had faded, forming into something else entirely. 

He ignored your question, instead taking in your bare feet, which led to bar legs sticking out from your robe, that familiar quirk forming along his lips, “Can I sit?” 

A second of hesitation, and then you were nodding, pulling your legs up closer to your chest to give him some room. He slid up across from you, his back resting against the opposite wall, his legs following. You tried not to stare so much as he got comfortable, but you felt your throat tighten slightly as his legs widened, leaving room for your own. The windowsill wasn’t long enough, leaving the outside of your legs to press along the inside of his — your bare skin able to feel the soft material of his pants and the warmth admitting from within them.

Stare sliding up his frame quicker than you would have liked, you found him already staring over at you intently, too much so that you began to fiddle with your fingers, almost willing to start picking at them but knowing better. You didn’t want him to see how nervous you truly were, whether it was because of your dream or him, though you weren’t really sure which was at the forefront of your mind. 

His knee bumped yours enough to keep your eyes on his, and you felt your confines weakening slightly, even if that meant him getting to see just what you were feeling at that moment. 

“You never answered my question,” you opposed, not willing to back down then wishing to see the way his expressions shifted, “What are you doing here?”

He smirked, almost like it was inevitable to tease you at least a little bit when that furrow appeared between your brows, “You’ve been thinking awfully hard for how late it is. Though I’m not sure what about. All I know is, it was hard not to feel how upset you were from only a few halls away.” 

“Fuck,” you cursed under your breath, unable to hold it back, “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” 

He laughed, unable to hold back at how cute you sounded swearing like that, and as he did, his knee bumped yours again. “No. I was already awake.”

That furrow deepend then, frowning at the mere possibility of him being unable to sleep as well. Able to read your features clearly, he sighed as if hesitant to admit it to you, though he knew the only way for the trust between you to strengthen was to be honest. You didn’t know him, not much past the sly smiles, the wit he was told by your dear master to keep to a minimum and the brief moments of softness he had displayed to you. Other than that, there wasn’t much else.

You two knew more about each other’s body language, the way their pulse quickened, or the feelingsound in the other’s head more so than the past, or much else. It hadn’t had the means to be brought up, not until then. 

“I don’t sleep well anymore.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked carefully, slightly shocked as it seemed you had been so consumed in your own sleeping habits lately that you hadn’t been able to feel through your senses that he had been struggling too,

“My mother,” he explained softly, knowing now he would have to explain it all to you, “It was a vision or a dream, perhaps, I’m not really fucking sure. But somehow, she was in my arms, and she was dying.” 

“Anakin,” you gasped, “How long ago was this?” 

He shrugged, “A week or so ago. They’ve only become more frequent since then. These dreams of my mother.” 

Your face softened, eyes widening slightly. His stare never wavered from your own as he reveled in your reactions. He had been holding it in for so long, silently dealing with this pain, this fear. You had only agreed to stay a month or so ago, and he didn’t want to do something that might weaken this sudden bond you two had seemed to have. 

“Where is she now?” you couldn’t help but ask. 

“Tatooine.” 

Your brows lifted then at the name of the planet, one of many you had studied immensely in your time of preparing to be queen. It required a lot from you, having to understand the political issues that overtook them all, their forms of government, and the allies and enemies of each. Upon hearing that name, you couldn’t have even imagined that Anakin had possibly been from Tatooine. 

“Tatooine, so she’s…” 

He nodded, “A slave? Yes. I was too. And then, when I was nine, I met Qui-Gon, and we struck up a deal. If I won the Boonta Eve Podrace, and he betted on me, he would have enough money to buy my freedom.” 

“And you won?” you smiled softly, unable not to as this was the first time you were hearing about his childhood. A childhood that wasn’t perfect, was different than your own, but was him. It was something you had found yourself wondering about for months now; where was he from, what were his parents like, what kind of kid was he? All of these questions, you felt too afraid to ever ask — worried what the answers would be.

“And I won. Then he brought me here to train under Obi-Wan. It’s been ten years, and I’ve thought about her every day since I left. I promised I would go back for her, but…”

“The code,” you finished for him, cringing slightly at the thought. 

Relationships and attachments were forbidden, even among parents and children.

“I would. I want to more than anything. I just haven’t had the opportunity. I know how fucking awful that sounds. It truly is—” 

“Stop. It’s not. I get it,” you said cutting him off while also reaching forward without even realizing to place your hand on his knee. It was warm and reminded you so much of the day that he had taken your hand in his, the day he had convinced you to stay. The day he silently promised you he could be the one person to trust. 

He traced the small touch with his blue orbs, one of the first touches you had ever initiated on your own. You bowed your head slightly, a flush appearing along your cheeks, suddenly second-guessing how natural it had all felt. Feeling inclined to retract your hand, a small smile appeared along his lips, one that was different than you had ever seen before. It was a look you wished to see for as long as possible, so you decided against pulling away. 

“One day, you will rescue her. Promises aren’t taken lightly when it’s a Jedi making them. You meant your word, and I know at the first possible chance you will do as you say.” 

He nodded, a calmness now falling over him he hadn’t been able to grasp since he had woken up in a cold sweat, panic seeping throughout his body, eyes unable to look or find anything to hold his attention long enough to forget about the crumpled form of his mother. Not until suddenly, you were sitting in front of him, touching him the way you were while saying all the things he needed so desperately to hear. He couldn’t help but react by covering your hand with his own, the warmth encapsulating the coldness of yours in a gentle squeeze. 

“And what about you?” he asked, drawing your stare away from your joined hands. 

“W-What about me?” you stuttered lightly, hating how something as simple as his hand could pull such a reaction out of you. 

“Why are you awake? What has gotten you so worked up that I felt I had to come find you?”

Though he wasn’t wrong, you hated that he put it that way. As if he needed to come in and save you at every chance he got — all to silence the many demons that filtered in throughout your head. You didn’t like the thought, the idea of depending on him so much, that he could feel exactly what you were feeling. How much further would it go? 

None of this made sense. The force didn’t make sense. Anakin didn’t make sense. The way he cared about you was too much, and sometimes you wished more than anything you could sever this connection with the hope that he didn’t have to feel so obligated to protect you all the time. That night and that dream only made it all worse. 

If it were true, you didn’t know what you were going to do.

“Y/N?” Anakin asked, his thumb beginning to rub gentle circles on the back of your palm and you hated how your pulse began to speed up at the small action. He could sense your apprehension paired with the look in your eyes, the fear of saying anything at all. 

“I—uh— don’t even know how to make sense of what tonight was.” 

“Just try.” 

You inhaled, that furrow returning between your brows and a hand running through your hair, unsure of how much you could even say. What did you even know? “I thought it was a dream, but now I think it might have been a memory maybe — something I haven’t thought of in years.” 

“Okay…” he replied carefully, trying to communicate in every way that he was fully listening to whatever you had to say. 

“I was somehow in Bakura within the backyard of the capital in our arbor. It was green and full of life and so, so beautiful. And Nona, my grandmother was there telling her stories, some that I always told myself to not believe. I was eight, sitting there just listening to every single thing she said. I forgot how young I used to be and so happy. I had never seen myself like that, and it was the strangest thing,” you laughed sadly, eyes glassing over slightly as the images of that night seemed to resurface, appearing just as they had been in the moment, “It was like I was even there, Anakin but almost a ghost, watching it all.”

Anakin, with his hand still wrapped around yours, was leaning forward, eyes never wavering as he listened and tried to make sense of it. His brows knit together as he tried to make sense of you. As you met his eyes then, you felt your breath almost fall short at how intently he was staring.

Inhaling, that smile dropped slightly, “Nona was telling me some story about the stars. The Soul Stars, she called them. This one always felt different from all of the rest, as if everything she said was true. I was asking her a question about them, but then my mother appeared, and she sent me away to find my father. That was the last thing I could remember and where the memory should have ended, with me running off towards the capital, but it didn’t. Instead, I found myself watching them, the way they argued, about me, about something they were keeping from me. So, I don’t know if this was merely a dream or…” 

“Or something else. Something the force could be trying to tell you,” Anakin finished your unspoken thought, your two expressions appearing so similar as you tried to realize what exactly could be occurring, between his dream and your own. 

“It sounds crazy, I know, but it felt so real and so familiar. If I had known sooner, years ago, maybe I could have set this all straight, but my mother died not long after that, and now I can’t help but wonder. Wonder if she was hiding something? If m—my father knew.” 

“It’s not crazy,” he said, hand loosening around yours, just enough for his fingers to intertwine with yours. He pulled on them gently. “Not at all.” 

“How could any of this be possible?”

“Sometimes it just is. There’s no explanation, no possible reasoning. Impossibilities are possible until proven otherwise. Master used to always tell me that when I first became his Padawan. Being a Jedi, the ability to move things with your mind, know what others are feeling, thinking — none of it should be possible, and yet it is our reality.”

You hummed, peering out of the window once more at the pair of stars. Could it really be? Two souls connected so immensely. But what did that mean? Connected. What did any of it mean? 

It was as if he could hear your thoughts then, and maybe he had because he was whispering your name so softly while pulling on your fingers again to draw your attention. Eyes finding his again, you melted slightly at the sight. The way his brows were raised, a look that was so warm reflecting off his face, and a slight lift of his lips. 

“I feel like there could be something wrong with me,” you admitted, and he couldn’t help but chuckle, the sound deep, felt throughout your own chest as if it had been you who was the one who made the noise and not him. 

That warm expression seemed to only deepen, forming into the most beautiful smile while he reached forward, his fist bumping lightly along your chin. You tried to ignore the way it lingered there for a second longer. “There is nothing wrong with you. That’s a ridiculous thing to say.” 

“But—” 

“But what?” 

Holding back, you bit onto your lower lip, unable to say anything more. Because what else was there to say? What else, when you didn’t know everything there was to know? Other than the strange feeling you got within the middle of your chest and at the bottom of your stomach whenever he was around somehow dimming all the anger you once had to almost nothing. 

“Y/N, you’re doing well. So well.” 

“Anakin…” you trailed off, but he only silenced you with a narrowed look and another squeeze of your cold palm. 

“Don’t try to diminish anything that I’m saying. You’re too hard on yourself.” 

“Perhaps I’m just cautious. Waiting for something to happen or waiting around for the day that I finally fuck up, and become someone worth being disappointed in,” you explained, suddenly unable to withhold his touch, the way it could have muted every fear to ever appear within your mind — you felt unworthy of him, of his kindness then, enough so you pulled your hand away instead to pick at the skin around your nails. 

He watched this, his stomach twisting with discomfort at your need to retreat, at your need to cause your fingers to bleed. “I wish you didn’t think that way.” 

“Well, I’m afraid, Anakin. I don’t know how else to think of it. There is no other way to. I’m afraid of what I might do.” 

You were staring down at your fingers, unable to look up at him, too nervous to, and in doing so, you focused on the loose skin around your nailbeds. Silence hung in the air as you pulled at the skin, enough for it to tear and start bleeding from how deep you truly had dug with your fingernail. 

“Stop that!” he scolded, voice thick, deeper than you had ever heard it as he reached forward, yanking your hand away but back within his own. He stared at the blood, the way it flowed, sure to drip off your finger at any moment. “There is no need to be afraid. I will protect you. Since the first day I met you, I’ve known. Known that I could and always will protect you.” 

The question was slipping from your parted lips as if he was pulling them from you. “Could you protect me even from myself?”

A moment, this prolonged pause of time stilled by the mere sound of his soft breath and the knitting of his brows. There was a small frown evident upon his pink lips, as if he was truly able to feel every insecurity, every ounce of fear that could be felt from your end; every inclination of uncertainty that flooded your body, your sole being. He could feel it all, and within that pause, those few seconds, his hand once again tight around yours he was filled with the most conviction you had ever seen

“I know it doesn’t seem like it all of the time, but I would do anything to keep you safe.”

How in a matter of months had it come to this? You weren’t sure. To see through your eyes what the two of you were, none of it could have been true, cruel intentions masked by the simplest affections. That’s what it had become. A lie behind your visions, distracted by his handsomeness and the mere enticingness that came from his smirk or the color of his eyes when they found yours from across the room. It could have not been real. That idea can’t be the most plausible but a figment of what you wish could be. 

A Jedi shall not know anger. 

Nor hatred. 

Nor love. 

You had experienced two in the span of a few weeks within your training, and now you couldn’t help but worry you would fall victim to the last as well. The last of the forbidden causes that came with being a Jedi. You couldn’t. Not when you had come as far as you did; in your training, in your ability to trust, in the ways of simple living that came with being one with the force. There wasn’t room for any more. There wasn’t room for Anakin Skywalker, and yet he was always there. Almost like a lightsaber to your hip, a protector as he claimed to be, but also the young man who would find ways to scare you, making you jump as he snuck up behind you. He also was the man who would tease you any chance he could as if the sight of you rolling your eyes or your brows furrowing was the only sight he wished to ever see. 

He wasn’t insufferable as you once had deemed him to be and never cruel but thought of himself highly enough to still throw half-witted comments towards you anytime you were training even with Master present, more so if he was present. You thought he had been everywhere before, able to feel him all of the time, but that was minuscule compared to now, compared to how this connection had forged the two of you into the ability to feel so close it was as if you were sleeping next to one another. Sometimes, you swore you could hear his heart beating or the gentle lull of his breath, on rare occasions, he could actually sleep throughout the night. It was only on those few nights when he wasn’t with you. 

It had become a habit, you had found, to be seated within the small corridor of the temple, sitting upon that damn windowsill, legs always pressed against one another. You had found you didn’t sleep well anymore either. It wasn’t even that you were having more visions, memories, or dreams but that you were kept up late at night by just the single mysteries of the one and how it seemed to coincide so much with how you felt about the young Skywalker. 

A Jedi shall not know love. 

And yet you found him to be breaking through every single resolve and healing the deepest parts of sadness you hadn’t even known were there. He made you happy, and that was the greatest weakness to have, even if it had made you a better Padawan, even as it had made you a strong Jedi. 

It was so much easier when you were angry, you realized. When he had you burning from the inside out and willing to hit him with training sticks because it meant you didn’t know this. This feeling. 

“You’ve been avoiding me.” 

The voice was gentle but firm as his frame leaned over your back where you were sitting, lips close to the shell of your ear. He was far louder than he should be for the library. Leaning forward over your shoulder, his hand found the table while his waist pressed up against your back. Your breath stilled for a moment, the words in the book almost blurry to the point of no longer being able to read them. 

It seemed he had found you, hiding away within the shelves of the library in the Jedi Temple. You were sat at a small table, a few books sprawled out, trying to make use of the minimal spare time you had before your next training session with master. With trials at the end of the year, there was almost no time in the evenings outside of meditation, or practices to really study the code or material. At least that’s what you had told yourself until he had appeared feeling so warm as he loomed over your frame. 

You didn’t dare move but instead kept your position of sitting straight within the chair, eyes cast down at the book before you on balance and the molecular configurations of the force. It was difficult, though, as his hand and his eyes could be seen from your peripheral. 

“Hello, Anakin,” you replied, a voice at a lower level, aware of the many other Padawans and Jedis that crowded other tables outside of between those two shelves. 

He huffed, aware of your ignorance towards his previous statement, and instead leaned over further to get a look at the book that was open on the table. He let out the same noise when he realized what you were reading while his chest somehow was now brushed up against your neck and temple. You leaned away slightly, suddenly overwhelmed by the smell of his cologne that stuck to his tunics. 

“What are you doing in here?” he grumbled as he pulled back from you and instead took a seat in the chair next to yours, but not without scooting closer to your side enough that his knee bumped yours every time his leg moved. 

With his chair angled towards you, his elbow pressed up along the tabletop, you couldn’t help but peer over at him innocently, already making a note of the frustrations that filtered along his face as he leaned against his closed fist. He was already staring at you, and it made you raise a brow in interest. 

“It’s the library.”

“Yes, I know that but we have like thirty minutes until our next training session with Master.” 

“Which is why I am studying,” you said matter of factly. 

“Y/N,” he whined then, louder this time, making you glance around the two of you suddenly embarrassed. 

“Anakin, the trials are at the end of the year and I am behind.” 

“You’re not that behind.” 

You sent him a stern look, “You have been training to be a Jedi since you were nine, you know everything there is to know for the trials. I have at most a year to learn what you have gotten to learn in the last ten.” 

“You know there is no fucking set timeline on when you need to become a Jedi, right? They hold trials every year. You don’t have to take them this year, which I am sure none of the council really would be expecting you to.” 

Your throat tightened at the mere thought of being a Padawan without him, “I know that, but if I could take them this year, I would like to.” 

He watched you intently the seriousness to which you said it, but as he sat there thinking, looking at you, he couldn’t help the thought that appeared. Or how it led to that smirk of his forming and that deadly glint that seemed to fill his eyes too often. “Oh, I see what’s going on here.” 

“What?” you sighed, knowing even if you didn’t wish to entertain his advances, he would send them your way anyway. 

“You’re worried about still being a Padawan when I pass the trials. Because then I could someday have the ability to be wise enough and be granted by the council to become a Master myself. Which means on instances where Master Obi-Wan won’t be able to meet you for lessons or training, he might ask me to fill in,” he teased, unable to hold back the steady chuckle from his chest at the mere thought or the look on your face that could only resemble both embarrassment and slight frustrations. 

“Anakin.” 

“It would be quite a sight, wouldn’t it. Me, Master Skywalker, with you, Padawan Y/L/N,” he shook his head, humming in satisfaction, “Now, that is something that would be fun.” 

“First of all, you know that’s not plausible because Master would not ask someone else to train me in his absence, and second of all,” you paused, turning more towards him and leaning close enough that his eyes flickered across your features in interest, a look of playfulness of your own forming, “I hate you.” 

“No, you don’t.” His tongue clicked along the inside of his cheek, a look of satisfaction forming enough for you to bow your head to peer back at the page you had reread at least twice already before he had interrupted you.

There were two seconds where you were able to find your initial place when, “So, are we getting out of here or what? I mean shit.” 

You sighed then eyes finding his again but yours suddenly resembling a gentle glare. 

“We have a half-an-hour. Let’s go do something fun.” 

“You mean something that would get us into trouble,” you corrected, unable to stop the urge to do as he says. To close that book and leave it on that table just to follow him wherever he asked. 

“Not exactly. Is that what I was referring to?” 

You chuckled dryly, “They are one and the same, Anakin. Besides, you see me every waking moment of every day as well as at night. Aren’t you able to separate from me for at least thirty minutes so I can read at least two chapters?” 

“Two chapters on the molecular configurations of the force. Seriously, this over hanging out with me? Really? I can say that doesn’t sound that fucking appealing. Plus, you’re wrong. I haven’t spent every waking moment with you because I didn’t see you last night. Or the night before.”

“I was sleeping,” you replied quickly, it sounding completely and utterly false the second it fell from your parted lips. Lips that had suddenly seemed to have Anakin’s attention. It made you shift within your seat, unsure if what you were seeing was actually real. 

He chuckled again, his tongue poking within the inside of his cheek, his jaw tightening slightly as matched your stare, “And now you’re just lying. I’m sorry, my lady, but it’s not quite a good look on you, so I’m afraid I am going to have to apprehend you from this boring ass library and take you with me.”

You couldn’t help but stare at him then, a smile forming on your lips, unable to hide any of it as he stood from the chair. A cocky grin accompanied that young handsome face of his as he barely glanced away from your form to close the book with a small thud. 

“You’re ridiculous you know that.” 

“No, I’m just better than you,” he said then, that smirk never ceasing as his stare once again flickered down to your parted lips smiling for him nevertheless, “Now, come on, I’ll make your time somewhat useful, and show you how to do my backspin with the lightsabers. Maybe, then you can get used to the idea of Master Skywalker.” 

You didn’t have any more grievances then, only able to stand and follow him through the library, somehow at a loss of how something that felt like this could be so wrong in the eyes of the people who were deemed good.

“You’ve been doing very well, Y/N. Everything that a young apprentice should be,” Master Obi-Wan complimented, glancing at you briefly from the corner of his eye as he continued walking ahead with his hands clasped behind his back. 

“Thank you, Master,” you responded, voice a mere mumble as you stared forward at the Temple’s garden before you, seeming to be one of the few things that remained untouched by the city. 

It was fresh, luminous, shades of bright green with looming trees and large bushes, many decorated with the most beautiful flowers and arches. It was something you had been desperately needing, some fresh air, some wisdom from the older Jedi, having been nothing but stuck in your head for most of the day, which appeared like most days. 

Anakin had done what he had promised and spent all of his thirty minutes of free time before training, showing you how to successfully engage in his backspin, unable to keep the Master Skywalker jokes to a minimum. Though you had only landed the move twice, you couldn’t help the way your face ached from the smile that never dared to disappear at the sight of him. 

It was something Obi-Wan had noticed as he had watched from the hallway for a few minutes before entering for the training session. He was taken aback at first — at that look upon your face, the smiles, the lingering stares, the soft touches Anakin always engaged in first. It seemed he had been a little blind himself those past few months, lost in the bliss of his two Padawans finally getting along because perhaps it was more than he realized, more than a sense of camaraderie, more than just a bond among Jedi. 

He could see trouble looming — looming over his trusted apprentices, over the closest thing that had resembled a son, the chosen one. It was the same trouble that seemed to be mirroring your face then. As if the solemness had returned upon the young Skywalker’s absence. 

“You are quiet,” Obi-Wan observed, stopping at the fountain near the middle of the garden. 

You hadn’t even realized you had walked that far.

“I’m sorry?” you asked, seeming to not have heard him the first time. 

“You’re quiet, my Padawan.” 

You bowed your head slightly in shame that you had found your mind drifting, so much so you were unable to listen to Obi-Wan for more than a few minutes. 

“You’re deep in thought. Pondering such things I cannot know, so speak.” 

“I’m afraid that I am behind in my training,” you admitted then, the very thing you had been admitting to Anakin over and over again deep into the night. 

“Behind? I would say you are advancing quite well. Just as I would expect you to be.” 

“But not fast enough to be ready in time for the trials.” 

At your confession, Obi-Wan fully turned to face you then, no longer content at staring at the foliage around the two of you but instead the worry that elapsed across your soft features. “The trials? You wish to participate in the trials this year?” 

“Yes, Master.” 

“Y/N, that has never been done before, do you understand that? Padawans require years of training to ever reach the mental and physical competence to become a Jedi. You are lucky the council granted our ask for you to become a Padawan at all. It has never been done to even accept someone at your age.”

“I understand, it’s just—” 

“It’s just Anakin,” he cut you off, the name falling freely then from Obi-Wan’s lips, and it was enough to stun you momentarily. 

“Anakin?” you asked confusion showing. 

“I see how close the two of you have gotten. There is a connection there between two Padawans I have yet to see, maybe ever. Far different than I can say your father and I were. It would be hard, I know, to imagine him passing the trials, possibly leaving to engage in war, or traveling to protect those that require him.” 

“Master I…” 

“It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war. You know better. I have taught you. Jedi shall not know love,” he lectured, each and every word diminishing every confidence you had had before, every thoughtful task that didn’t have anything to do with the chosen one. 

You smiled awkwardly then, suddenly feeling as if you were being looked at under a microscope at risk of being accused of distracting the very Jedi that this war depends on. “I can assure you, Master, that love is not a word to use here. Not even close. This isn’t about him, sir. He has been a comfort, I will not deny that, but to assume I would ask of this because of him is…” 

The truth was you hadn’t thought much about that, last night when you lay awake. It had been a passing thought, one you couldn’t focus on — the inevitable that would certainly lead to the two of you apart one way or another with a certain strain on this newfound connection you were still trying to explain. 

“What is it then, Y/N?” he asked, a single brow raised, certainly surprised by my recollection of his words and your choice of response. 

“It’s just I can’t fathom the thought, the thought of wasting away most of my twenties being an apprentice, this young Padawan who has yet to accomplish anything. I want to be able to be active, make a change, have a voice, and teach. I was made and brought up to be a queen. I can’t possibly let that be a waste.” 

He tutted softly as if thinking, as if wondering just how exactly to advise to bring about a lesson to our words. You weren’t sure if he completely believed you or if he could ever see past the evident connection you and Anakin had formed, whatever it may be, but you couldn’t also deny the small ache that had been lingering almost in the wake of where that anger and grief used to gather. 

“It would not be a waste, my young princess,” Obi-Wan said, the title you hadn’t heard in so long, hurting even worse, “You see, it’s not about when you do it; when you teach, make changes, become this unstoppable figure the rest of the senate and council will listen to. It’s not about when but that you just do. Being young won’t make you any more respectable than if you accomplished any of it at my age or even older.”

You couldn’t look away, especially as the kindness and deliberation were seen through his eyes. There was such a care you hadn’t expected from him, not yet, at least not like this. And yet he also had the ability to disappoint you completely as he sighed, the worst admission granting your ears, “But with that being said, I don’t think you will be ready for the trials. I can try my best to teach you everything I know, but I would advise you to wait.

It’s a connection I hope I haven’t mistaken for fondness. I would hope your feelings wouldn’t cloud your judgment or even his. He is the chosen one with a responsibility to end this war.

Jedi shall not know love. 

You hated it. You hated how Obi-Wan could even assume that of you. To love Anakin? It seemed impossible. It had only been months. Some of which were unpleasant. The others, you were still very well trying to wrap your head around. Then most of all to assume you would want to participate in the trials to remain close to him. How could he even think all of that? That when you hadn’t even the ability to confirm if there was a connection that was more than what either of you had been told. 

You had tried, retired to the library so many times. Just hoping you could find anything on the Stars of L’âme. Anything that could explain the story, the myth, the possible scientific evidence to its existence, but to no avail, you came up short-handed because how could the Temple have anything that could even allude to love. It wouldn’t. 

Enough so you were left in your chambers staring up at the ceiling once again, unable to sleep, unable to even shut your mind off long enough to succumb to darkness. It would be far too kind to you then, far too inviting. You needed it based on the dark circles that were starting to appear. It had to have been past midnight, sure to be even two but you couldn’t know for sure as you were completely unable to move or look anywhere else but the paneling of the ceiling. 

That is until a knock sounded on your door. It was soft but loud enough to rip through the silence and your solid gaze. Sitting up slowly, you found yourself unable to move from the confines as if needing to know you weren’t hearing things. A second passed, and then two before the knock sounded again. This time slightly louder. Sliding from the bed, you walked across the room to the front door, unable to deny how cold the floor felt along your bare feet. 

You pulled the door open without so much as another thought, and it opened with a small hiss, the compressions releasing from how they were locked. Dim lights streamed in from the hallway, and you had to blink a couple of times for your eyes to adjust, and as they did, you exhaled, almost expecting it. 

Anakin peered up at the sound of the door, and his smile faltered for a moment at the sight of you. Whatever he was going to say seemed suddenly lost and rather replaced by the way his lips parted with ease, eyes narrowing ever so slightly, no longer meeting your own. It was then that you realized you hadn’t grabbed a robe to pull on over your night dress before answering the door. As if you were too desperate that you had to eliminate the barrier between the two of you. 

It seemed he hadn’t been expecting it either with the way he traced the cream silk with ease, voice lost, even more so as they rose to meet where the dress dipped a little too low upon your chest. It was the first time he had ever seen you in a dress, or something that was less than the robes or training shirts you often wore. Even on nights where the two of you were sat in the windowsill, a long robe, usually one of his old ones covered the rest of you from not only the coldness of the empty hallways but his stare as well. 

Dipping even lower, they traced how the material hugged your waist, sinching slightly to the way it draped off your hips. Your bare legs were smooth, even with the minimal light he had in the hallway. He knew there was no mistaking any of it, though, even the initial dip within the valley of your breasts. 

He appeared in loose pants and a long tunic, no robe, but still dressed as you usually found him, and there was no denying how it always made you feel. Clearing your throat, those blue eyes snapped up to meet yours, and the way a light dust of pink had appeared along the apples of your cheeks. 

“You’re awake,” he surveyed. 

“Yes,” you admitted with ease, knowing there was no point in lying as he would know. 

“You’re awake,” he repeated, eyes tracing the expanse of your neck and the way your hair framed your face, “And you’re not at the window.”

“Anakin,” you protested but he wouldn’t let you get a word in as his moment of stuntedness seemed to fade quickly, “That makes night number three. Looks like you could be avoiding me.”

“I’ve been trying to get some sleep. It’s been days, you know since I’ve had any.” 

He hummed, no longer ashamed in the way his eyes raked your form, unable to really ignore the way his body was so willing to react to yours, “You’ve been awake for at least an hour. Usually, it won’t take you that long to fall asleep if you’re really willing to try, and I waited at least twenty minutes to see if you would before coming to your door.”

He knew that he had you. You knew that he had you. So much so that you signed almost in defeat, arms crossing over your chest without even thinking much of it. “Okay, so what do you want?” 

His eyes flickered down but only for a second, perhaps half of one, before meeting your gaze once more, that charming look about him forming again. He smiled, “I want you to grab a robe. There’s something I’ve been wanting to show you.”

“It’s late,” you surveyed, peeking slightly around him to peer into the dark hallway void of anyone else. 

“And?” he asked, raising a brow as he sarcastically replied, “It’s never stopped you before.”

You huffed loudly then, knowing there was no way for you to convince him to turn, leave your doorway, and retire to his own room for the rest of the night. He was there, and he knew what he wanted, which was for you to follow him out into the dark corridors. To anyone else, it was almost him asking for trouble, but you could never deny someone as painstakingly handsome as him, especially if it meant you got a few extra hours where his attention belonged to you and you alone. 

It was something you come to find you were jealous of and wish to have more of — his eyes, his attention, his looming voice. You wanted it all. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, turning on your heels quickly to walk over to where the robe you had been wearing earlier in the evening while you were getting ready hung up behind another door. It happened to be one of Anakin’s old ones; it was too small to fit him now. 

You took it quickly and slipped it around your shivering frame, and as you turned, you found Anakin poking his head in through the wide-open door, eyes suddenly transfixed on the room as he tried to take it all in. It was a room he had never been in, this place that was yours.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought. Smile as you followed him out into the dark corridors, knowing then, and always you would probably do whatever he asked of you.

“Where are we going?” you asked, trying to keep up with his long strides, almost inclined to reach out for his hand. 

Anakin looked over at you, smirking lightly, “Why would I tell you? You’ve been ignoring me for a few nights now. It’s more fun watching you squirm.”

“Right, of course, it is.” 

Noticing the small worry line that appeared between your eyebrows, he couldn’t help but laugh down at you, unable to keep from bumping his shoulder into yours, “Relax, will you? It’s nothing serious. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

With that, a silence lingered, setting it between the two of you. You weren’t sure of what else to say, or if there was anything else to say, so you merely followed him as he led you further and further into the temple, away from your chambers and the emptiness that was your bed. There was no comfort to you then with your silent thoughts other than the gentle brush of his fingers along the back of your palm every once in a while as you walked. The first time it happened, surprising you to the point of looking over at him to find him still staring forward as if he hadn’t felt it at all, and maybe he hadn’t. 

It was at least a three-minute walk until his steps had slowed down, making their way through the darkness with you slightly behind. Rounding the corner of an empty hallway in the East Wing of the temple, he continued down it until he stopped about three-quarters of the way until he was in front of a large metal door. It towered over him slightly but not by much. Reaching forward to the keypad, he glanced at you over his shoulder quickly, a small smile of his forming at the sight of you peering up at him in anticipation. 

He chuckled, the sound gracing your ears as he input the code, followed by the pound key, which let out a short-lived beep matching the green light that flashed as the door decompressionized. A small hiss sounded from the steam, and you felt your pulse spike. This room was on higher lockdown than most, you realized. One you hadn’t ever been in, and if you hadn’t ever been, maybe you shouldn’t be. 

If it were any other time, you would have stopped him and asked if you should be doing this, but you couldn’t care. Not when Obi-Wan had accused you of going against the code as well as not being a good enough Jedi to participate in the trials. You were tired of doing what was expected of you over the past six months, not when you felt so much more with Anakin, even if it was as simple as sneaking off at night. 

Stepping past the threshold of the door, you were once again confined into darkness, having quickly lost Anakin as his footsteps echoed further into the vast room. “Anakin?” 

“Just turning on the lights,” he answered smugly as the door closed behind you, locking once the door had snuggly sat within the doorway. 

It was cold, and the first thing you noticed among your bare legs was the floor, surely metal panels underneath your shoes. The room was completely void of any windows, and it wasn’t until you heard the click of a switch before golden light pooled from the ceilings that you knew where Anakin was. As the beams appeared, you blinked for a moment, adjusting to the new soft light; it dimmed slightly but still enough for you to find Anakin just a few feet away by the light switch. 

He was leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, taking you in as you suddenly began to look around the room. It was larger than you would have expected and dull, with boring walls and cold floors. Dull all but for the many things that seemed coated around the room, some nestled into piles, others left alone. A room you truly had never been in, and you knew then why. It was a room for the children, the younglings, the Jedi who are so young they haven’t even fully comprehended the loss of being separated from their parents. So much so that this room basically served as a fun park while they adjusted to their new environment as well as their training. 

There were beams, large mats, a pit with foam blocks in it, various lightsaber training sticks, and rubber balls — all bright colors seeming to bring life into the faded room.   Then right in the middle, a part of the tiled floor was removed and replaced with a rectangular mesh, almost thin pool. You had never seen something like it before, and you couldn’t help but look over at Anakin in confusion. Confusion of why, out of all of the places in the temple, he had brought you here, a place sanctioned for Jedi that was no more than ten-years-old. 

“It’s for the younglings,” he spoke then, pushing himself off from the wall, his voice echoing slightly in the empty room. “Created to help ease the transition. They are taken away from all that they know; their families, their friends, some young but not young enough to have forgotten. They are still children, even more so, still capable of remembering what having fun was like.” 

Pushing another light switch, another set came on around the mesh fabric, a bright blue that reminded you of the color of your lightsaber — it was neon, glowing, calling you to follow Anakin as he stepped closer to it. “This was my favorite place to be.” 

You listened intently as he then kicked off his shoes, being left in socks, and stepped forward onto the mesh floor. You were holding your breath then as it dipped, almost seeming to absorb his weight, and slingshotting back up to create a small bounce under his feet. 

“And this, well let’s just say it took Master hours to get me to leave.” 

“What is it?” you asked walking close enough to where his shoes were left. 

Moving from the center of the mesh floor, he approached the edge, sticking out a single hand for you to take, “It’s used for the younglings when they are first beginning to learn to levitate, flip, stuff like that.” 

Slipping your own shoes off, you took his hand and stepped forward onto the bendable floor. You stared down, curious of the way it dipped under your weight, bent, feeling as if you were floating in mid-air with no solid ground under your feet. Anakin was laughing, you knew that much, entertained by the kid-like wonder that was appearing across your face. 

With his hand still wrapped around yours, you looked up at him, a brow raised and a small smile forming along your own lips, “Now what?” 

“And now we jump!” 

Before you knew it, he had his other hand wrapped around yours as he jumped up into the air, bringing you with him. Your lips fell open in shock as you came back down, only to bounce back up higher than you would have been able to do on your own. A laugh escaped, it sounding so carefree and natural that Anakin couldn’t help but laugh too. The sound is enough to make your chest flutter. 

You found the more you jumped, the higher you went, enough to create excitement, goosebumps to appear, and this lightness to flush your whole body. One you really hadn’t felt in years, like suddenly all of the weight you had been struggling with, compressing you into someone else entirely, was temporarily gone. All you could feel was the air shifting around you and how inevitably right it all was. How, even after nights of ignoring Anakin, it always would feel right. 

And how perhaps Obi-Wan had been onto something.

It plagued your mind over the next thirty minutes with the two of you spent jumping, Anakin going as far as to do flips and different tricks he had first learned when he was nine and transferred into his training with force and levitation. You could only watch in awe with the most pure smile on your face — the world seeming to be at a standstill for just a little while. 

So much so that by the time hours had passed, the two of you were lying down on the trampoline, letting the fabric leave imprints on the back of your legs and arms. You were tired. He was able to see it in your eyes but neither of you could even fathom leaving yet, not when you both were smiling the way you were at ease finally. 

You were lying on your side, head balancing along the inside of your palm, facing Anakin, fully engaged in the questions he asked about Bakura — about what your favorite place was, how it was able to succeed within the capital, the political tendencies of your people. He found himself asking question after question, completely sucked into getting to know as much as possible, all because it was you. Bakura, even when it was gone, no longer levitating within space, spinning with life upon it, it was still you; in every way. 

“So when you were to become queen, in simpler terms, you would have become a politician?” The question was so innocent, but you felt the grumble around the sole word. Anakin was facing you, his leg bumping yours, his body mirroring yours in the way he leaned his head against his palm, a mere few inches separating you two. 

You knew how he felt about them; politicians, senators, the whole lot. He found the majority of them corrupt, even those who had established the Republic up from the ground. How could he not? He felt politics were void of anything he valued, most of all including compassion. There was no surprise when he began asking questions about your own system, a Monarchy, which in itself was just another way to rule other than the Democracy he had grown up within. 

“A ruler,” you corrected. 

“I find them to be the same. Though we live in a Democracy, we are ruled by politicians; indirectly, they decide how things will run, corroborate what citizens should believe or not believe, and then, with support, are able to put those things into power.” 

“Maybe they are similar, but they are not the same, not really. I would have been a queen, yes, a single ruler, but it would have been more than just a title. I would have made sure of it. There is a council, you know, one like the Jedi Order or the Senate, where the royal family can lean on and have support while making decisions. I would have trusted them to help me lead, and I would have listened to those who wished to be heard and make changes within the council ship and the city,” you explained, the thoughts coming with ease as you imagined what your life surely could have been like had Bakura remained untouched, “I would have made things the way they were supposed to be.” 

He didn’t say anything at first, too lost in the way you looked, that hopeful glint in your eyes diminishing quickly at the reality that set in, the loss of your power, your ability to invoke change. He could only admire you as you talked, passionately wishing to change the world. 

There was a pause before he decided to reply with a light chuckle laced within his words. “That’s something a politician would say.”

“And so what?” you countered, pushing him back lightly enough that he almost fell back onto the trampoline, “What is so wrong with that? It was what I was made to become.  I would have been great at it, you know. Being queen.”

“Is that what you wanted, though?” he asked then, laughter falling away to a serious ask. He was closer now, only a few inches or so apart, close enough you were able to see the different blues that appeared in his eyes and the gentle lines around the corners of his lips. 

“I’m not sure what I wanted then. I wasn’t really ever asked because that’s what I would be made to be.”

He hummed then, eyes flickering down to the annoyed frown that appeared across your lips, somehow mirroring the flash of frustrations that reflected in your eyes. “And what about a king?”

“A king?” you repeated, his question taking you by surprise, to which he nodded, proving that he was indeed serious. You couldn’t help but laugh out loud at the thought, “Yes, well, there would have been a king. I’m sure some Lord or politician you wouldn’t like very much would have been chosen.” 

You expected him to laugh or smile, perhaps smirk at the way you teased him, but he didn’t. His only response was a furrow of his brows. “Chosen? You mean like arranged?”

“Yes.” 

“But your parents—” 

“My parents were an exception,” you said almost solemnly as if you were reliving your previous life, just how much it resembled a sort of prisoner rather than a ruler, “My father was wise, a Jedi, who left the Jedi Council for my mother. He was different, and a kingdom can’t rely on random men to be great rulers. That’s how royal families are destroyed, and cities fall.” 

There was a pause on his end, a slight inhale as his eyes began to swirl with even more questions and uncertainty at the reality of your previous life. He couldn’t help but swing his legs around and sit up, stare never wavering as a certain edge appeared in his voice then, “That day, when I… were you arranged to be married?” 

You shook your head, “No. My mother hadn’t quite found anyone yet. I would imagine him, though, you know, make him up in my head and try to make it seem less awful than it really was.”

“What was he like?”

You laughed suddenly confused by his ask, “What?” 

“The king? Your king?” he clarified, and at that, you couldn’t help but bow your head, a blush forming along the apples of your cheeks, suddenly feeling embarrassed by it. 

“Anakin,” you protested but didn’t get very far as he sent you a narrowed look, his hand flicking at the back of yours with annoyance. “Fine.” 

You took a moment, to inhale, to breathe, and remember to six months before. To when you hadn’t known him, Anakin Skywalker. To when you were just the princess of Bakura, not a Jedi, a woman able to be open to love, but only the love chosen for you. It was enough to have you make up a man, the perfect man, to whom you thought about day and night for almost two years with the hope he would end the torment that would be an arranged marriage. 

“I thought of him as tall with dark curls. Light eyes that could capture my soul, it seemed, and this certain look, a soft smile about him where he seemed to always be in favor of teasing me. He would be strong-willed and willing to hold power, but not so much that he would overshadow what I thought. And also passionate, know what it’s like to feel and accept the fact,” you explained then, unable to face him or look him in the eyes as you couldn’t help but recount just what you had always wanted.

It somehow matched the young Padawan who had gone on to rescue you the day that Bakura was burning and the Jedi before you then. How had that happened? How had it been so perfect, so true, as if the stars themselves had sent him? 

Anakin felt his chest tighten, at each and every word you whispered with uncertainty as if afraid. He knew, though, he could see you were telling the truth, by the mere quiver in your lip to the way you thought carefully with a crinkle in between your brows that this wasn’t something you were saying on the spot but rather what you had always thought and believed. He wanted to take your hand in his or do something to get you to look at him, to acknowledge how it all sounded then. Because he couldn’t deny the similarities, the way it felt as if you had been describing him, recounting each thing about him other than the physicalities. 

A Jedi shall not know love. 

He couldn’t though. He knew he couldn’t.

“And I suppose…” he trailed, pausing to watch the way your eyes flickered up to meet his again, anticipating what he was going to say next. He smirked, unable to stop himself as he said, “He would believe in the politics of a dictatorship. Support the act of one ruler.” 

You stared over at him, watching as his expression shifted, a light filling his irises and the corners of his lips lifting into a smile as a laugh escaped. “You’re making fun of me.”

“No, I’d be much too frightened to tease a princess.” 

At the title, the only title you had wished for him to never call you again, brought about another feeling then, one of what could only be described as warmth. One that had a small blush appearing on your face but also a need to shove him over. He could only laugh though at the sight of your embarrassment, at the way you could fold under his teasing, his touch as he reached forward to take both your wrists in his hands.

Before you could gain your footing, he had pulled you up from where you were sitting, both his arms looping around your lower back, still laughing, head dipped back slightly as he stood upon the trampoline.

“Anakin,” you warned, trying to squirm out of his grip. 

It only tightened then, your feet hanging mid-air as he began to jump up on the trampoline, somehow still able to go just as high with you in his arms as he had been by himself. You were half-laughing but also half-yelling, arms suddenly around his neck as you glanced down to the ground each time you were up in the air. As he got really high one time, he pretended to let you slip from his arms, enough to get a small squeal to escape, only making him laugh harder. 

“Anakin, stop, don’t do that,” you scolded, though the fall would be low, “That's not funny .” 

He didn’t listen, though as the next jump up, he went to do it again, but this time, he had really lost his grip on the back of you. You began to slip enough that your stomach dropped slightly. Noticing this, he tried to take hold of you again but fumbled quickly, and before you had even realized it, Anakin was on his back on the mesh floor with you harshly falling on top of him. 

An exhale was pulled from his chest at the impact, and you felt your torso ache with the collision of his own. He swore under his breath, his laughter falling short, as he grumbled, head relaxing back against the fabric. With one leg wrapped around one of his and the other thrown over his thigh, you leaned over him on your elbows, torso almost flush against his, lower body slightly straddling his. 

“Anakin,” with wide eyes and a nervous lilt in your voice, you couldn’t help but remain unmoving, trying to hold as much of your weight off of him, “Ani, are you alright?” 

His chest tightened, stiffening at the sound of the nickname, one that was all too familiar but just not from you. He relaxed quickly though somehow liking the way it sounded from your tongue. Then he was opening one eye up towards you and then another, trying to hold back his smile as long as he could, but upon noticing the way you were chewing on your lower lip in worry, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing, his facade diminishing quickly. 

At the sound, you knew he was fine, probably had been the whole time, and you couldn’t help but also start laughing but not without punching him lightly in the shoulder. He didn’t seem to care not as his arms came up to rest along your hips, hands along your back, his head a few inches from your own, unable to do anything but listen to the way your laughter sounded. The way it had never sounded like that before ever. He wanted it to last for as long as possible, just as the feeling of you sitting upon his body. He couldn’t help though to suddenly roll, you falling back onto the trampoline bouncing slightly as he hovered over you. 

A breath slipped, a steady, almost whimper as the weight of his body sunk into yours comfortably, his legs parting yours with ease. Your laughter faded, a mere giggle, and then to nothing. He followed, too, until suddenly it was silent, all but the steadiness of your breathing. He was warm, so warm, strong, his body firm against your own that it had a new feeling pooling at the base of your stomach. One you had been ignoring since you had first laid your eyes on him. But it proved difficult then as his blue irises bore down into yours, his lips glistening where he had wet them with his tongue within the blue neon lights of the room. 

Your eyes flickered down to them with ease, but it didn’t last long, not as you both lifted your heads at the sound of the door decompressing at the sound of the correct code being put in. Then it was opening and you both could only lay there as the figure of your Master Obi-Wan appeared. He was reaching for his lightsaber, dressed in robes he always wore to bed, sleep still cascaded in his eyes. A look of confusion that was quickly doused and replaced with a furrow and a frown at the sight before him.

You watched as Anakin lifted one hand from where it initially was pressed alongside your head, a sheepish smile appearing across his lips as he waved. “Hi, Master.”

[forever--darling]

update

considering my series me & the devil, I have been traveling in and out of the state for the last four days for work and haven't had a lot of spare time to get it out quickly. however, with that being said, part 03 is currently at 7.8k words with two scenes left to be written. then i just have to read it over and will be posting it. my plan is to have it up by wednesday sometime if not sooner as I don't get back to my apartment until 2 a.m. tomorrow night.

side note - spring semester will be starting up next tuesday and being a double major on top of having a job will become a priority but I have so much in store for this series as I have been making my outline for the last few days now and am planning to keep writing until it is finished.

I just want to let you know that the parts might not come out as fast as the first few have. thank you for your patience and all of the love so far in the new series 🤍

[forever--darling]

the chosen one

summary: a new life awaits you & yet you can't help the darkness that looms over the old one. to be a jedi seemed wrong to you so much so that the overwhelming feelings for the young jedi you were forced to spend every day with became overshadowed by other things instead, things no jedi were ever to act upon.

pairings: anakin skywalker x jedi!reader

word count: 6.6k

warnings/notes: mention of war, of death, mention of clone wars, swearing, evidence of past reader & anakin, conceited!anakin, angst (early but important for future character development), mentions of the force, fluff near the end

series masterlist | 02

“Master, you have returned from the council I have seen. What did they say? About the princess?” The young Padawan stared up at his mentor, eyes so uncertain as he met the older man’s gaze. 

Obi-Wan met the young man’s question with just as much uncertainty. How was he to put it into words? Words of what he had proposed to the Jedi Council? Of just how exactly he might have jeopardized the very chosen one’s training. Obi-Wan was not proud then of what he had done in the council meeting. Of how persistent he had been without even talking to his young Padawan learner beforehand, but his mind had already been made up the second he had seen your face upon meeting the outside ruins of Bakura, your father left behind to burn with it. 

They successfully extracted you — just to leave you with nothing. 

“Padawan…” Obi-Wan began but trailed off, instead taking a seat upon the couch, hesitant then as the younger man remained standing, a single dark brow arched in obvious confusion. 

Obi-Wan corrected himself then, “Anakin, with regarding the princess I have talked to them about her staying on a more permanent note.” 

“In Coruscant?” 

“Yes, but not exactly,” Obi-Wan said, watching carefully as his young Padawan’s face fell, the confusion melting at the relization. 

“Within the Jedi Temple, you mean.” 

The older Jedi nodded in confirmation. 

“You wish for her to become a Jedi?” Anakin asked, forming the conclusions as quickly as they appeared over Obi-Wan’s face. He could feel it as well through his senses, the anxiety that had befallen his master. The sudden question swarmed him of what exactly his mentor had done; of what deal he had exactly struck with the council. 

“She knows the force, Anakin. I have seen it, with my own eyes. There is a piece of her she has yet to even explore, and I know that with much focus and practice, she could become a strong Jedi. She could will the force just as well as you or I.” 

The young man froze, the very admittance shielding him useless then. Unable to barely fathom what to say or a single coherent thought. He could only stand there, senses wavering, opening up to the mere feeling from just across the temple. You. 

Even from rooms away, it felt as if he sat across from you, observing the expressions on your face, just asking to see your pretty eyes weaken from their steel. You were unaware of his senses, unaware of how well he could feel you. Unaware of how well he knew the pain you dwelled on and the devastation that filled your chest with a gentle ache. Your sadness was loud to him, his Jedi powers strong then. 

But one question still remained. 

“Master, who would she train under? Who would be her Master?” 

Obi-Wan remained silent. His head suddenly bowing in slight shame. Slight worry of offering up himself to the council willingly. 

“I see,” Anakin frowned, “And what about me?” 

The older Jedi’s eyes found his then quickly, trying to offer as much comfort as he could with a soft smile, trying to ease the panic that was surely swirling within the chosen one’s mighty mind, “You would still be my young Padawan learner if that is what you wish.” 

Anakin’s brows furrowed again, “But, I thought no Master could have two Padawans. The code—” 

“Yes, the code does forbid it. But you see at one time ago I was one Padawan of two to my own master. The other being Y/N’s father.” 

“The king?” the young Padawan corrected. 

“Yes, the king,” Obi-Wan frowned, his face wavering at the thought of the loss of his old friend, “He was a great Jedi and an even greater friend. Because of that, our bond within the force was powerful. I was able to remind the council of that. There can be exceptions even within the code.” 

The Padawan nodded understandingly, it all aligning within his mind, and yet that furrowed look still would not cease from his face. Hesitancy was present behind his eyes, the blueness in them holding Obi-Wan’s attention as he tried to read the younger Jedi’s feelings. But Anakin held up a front, his walls strong against his mentor. There was something else not being said. He could feel it. 

“Then what is it? What exactly are you not telling me, Master?”

Obi-Wan inhaled, “They would only allow it upon your approval. You are still the chosen one, Anakin. They want to ensure your learning is not minimized by the addition of someone else.” 

“So it’s up to me?” 

“Yes, very much so,” Obi-Wan nodded. 

Anakin hummed in understanding. Much understanding of the sudden weight that had befallen him. This was no dire decision to make. With nothing and no one, Obi-Wan has stepped forward, offering up a solace for you — something that was not foreign for the older Jedi to do. Though Anakin wasn’t sure he would have done the same, there was a certain power he felt with this foreboding ask of him. Your life, that is. He liked how it felt within his palms, just as your back had against his firm chest upon your first meeting. 

There was something about you. He couldn’t know it then. Begin to understand, how the force was so willful in him to look into you, to try and understand you. He pushed the reasoning onto his senses, how strong they had become — how successful his training had been dubbing him lately. So much so that the trials would be a simple task. 

This was an opportunity though, to forge a connection separate from his master but with you as well. To showcase to the council how truly powerful and one with the Jedi code he could be. To lead you and protect you as his own mentor had done for him. This was a chance to get ahead, but on top of it save you. 

“She has no one,” Anakin said, surveying the obvious fact. 

“No, she does not,” Obi-Wan confirmed. 

He was conceded he knew that, as he imagined saving you over and over again just for the swell his chest would receive at the praise of those around him. He wanted his name known. Anakin Skywalker. 

There was more he was destined for, and that was enough paired with the wallows of sadness he could still very well feel to make up his mind. 

The grass was so green, even soft as if it was Bakura itself. That single field by the capital. It didn’t matter how much it rained, how it seemed to flood the streets, that field remained just as perfect as always. Closing your eyes with ease, you felt the wind, how it tickled your skin around the base of your neck from where your hair was pulled up and out of your face. It smelled like saltwater but not enough to be considered irritating. With fluttered eyelids, you sighed, a deep breath invading your chest before releasing. 

There was a shift then though — within the air. 

A certain sort of energy coaligning with yours enough to make your pulse quicken. You could feel him, that much was certain. 

There was a step, it heavy on the ground, not as quiet as either of you had expected. As another one approached, you quickly swung around on your heels, eyes peeling open just as the flash of light came towards you. With a wielding nature, your own saber ignited a strong blue just like the one before you. Shielding the blow, they collided harshly, sending your heels to dig into the ground while air admitted from the energy collision of the two sabers. 

Peering up, you met his narrowed blue stare with one of your own. Dark furrowed brows shone along his face but there just as it always was — that smirk of his. The single and most infuriating thing about him. 

“Not as quiet as you thought you’d be?” you asked, the sarcasm dripping freely. 

Your ask alone had him leaning closer, challenging you with the newly added tension upon your saber. 

He chuckled, the sound hitting you in the chest, as that Padawan braid of his swung as he stepped back, saber releasing yours, “Not at all. Was trying to test your senses is all.” 

“Sure.” 

Stepping back yourself, you felt the crunch underneath your feet. Peering down quickly, he watched you carefully as you traced the brown and withered grass beneath you. Tracing it along the once billowing weeds, it all was dead and turned to ash. A smog had filled the air, and it was eerily too familiar to you then. 

Sensing your master’s watchful eyes, the Padawan fenced forward, his saber moving around his back into his opposite palm just to meet yours once more as he lunged. A grunt admitted from your throat at the impact, it enough to make you stumble. Shifting your weight forward, his strength loosened, allowing you to swing your blue lightsaber up and toward his left shoulder. With little ease it collided with his once more. 

Then, within a matter of seconds, it had become a swinging match between the two blue sabers. It was a light show of poking, swinging, and prodding at the receiving opponent, only for each blow to be matched. That look was still in his eyes. It was guarded and cold like a warrior appeared even as a young Padawan. It was a look you couldn’t fully understand but felt through every bone and particle within your body. You responded to it as if he was just asking for you to give everything to him, and you hated it. Hated how well he knew you, or how well he could sense every move you made before you did it. 

You had gotten better yourself over the course of the months, learning and studying the code as well as interacting closely with the force. It had intensified in the way that it moved through your veins, not to the extent it did for him, but enough that you were able to sense him, too. When he was near, maybe a doorway away or even a hall. Or which move he was willing to use first within training that day. Even the pit that would form at the base of his stomach every time he and Obi-Wan disagreed on something. 

You knew more than you ever wished. 

He chuckled then, as if able to hear your thoughts so blatantly about him. That look darkened further but remained playful even as he darted for you, only for you to spin completely switching sides with him to meet his saber again with a mighty clash. 

“You’ve gotten better,” he said, voice teasing as he leaned in closer enough that the pair of blue lights reflected rings within his eyes. It drew your attention away from them to him instead. To the way they deliberately stared into your own — too intensely. 

“But not quite good enough,” he finished his saber releasing yours rather quickly. 

It was then you felt the harsh blade sweep you up from under your feet, the pain only coming from where your back met the ground. Leaning over you, that smirk of his remained that glint overwhelming as the smoke-filled haze and the dead grass disappeared. He remained as you were brought back out of your minds and into the training room. The walls transforming around you into their usual metal view.

The mat was sticky under your form, felt across your bare back where the tight top didn’t cover. Your stick was prodding at your side, not truly your saber as it had felt only moments ago. You sighed then, melting into the ground momentarily as the chosen one laughed from above you, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“It seems I have won again,” he teased, “Shocker.” 

You rolled your eyes, suddenly unamused by his charming wit or wandering stare. Sitting up on your forearms, you heard the hiss from the other side of the room. The disappointment filled your chest as you looked over to find Obi-Wan tutting softly to himself at the sight of the two of you. 

“Anakin,” he warned then as he felt the heat that truly was forming within your veins.

The young Padawan sighed as he looked back down at you and offered both of his hands to you. With much hesitation on your end and a quirk of his lips, you were taking hold of his outstretched palms. A tingle shot up through your arms, and you wondered briefly if he had felt it, too. He pulled you up from the ground quickly, enough that you almost collided with him. Laughing like a teenage boy at the mere stumble of your feet, he didn’t dare comment on it, still fully aware of master staring him down. 

Playfully flicking a piece of your hair behind your ear with a simple curl of his fingers, you slapped his hand away from where it engaged within the force. Glaring, you couldn’t help the frustration that formed, the anger that you knew was not to be acted on or used by a Jedi — it wasn’t applicable with the force, but you couldn’t help it. Not when he stood inches above you, sweat gathering along his brow, shirt tight on his chest, and that look upon his face. It was humiliating the more it happened day after day. 

“It isn’t fair,” you muttered then, taking a step back, enough that you could no longer feel the heat radiating from him. 

“What isn’t?” he asked, almost feigning a sense of compassion but that was replaced quickly, “That I’m better than you.” 

Obi-Wan sighed from off to the side but neither of you disengaged from the gaze of the other. Anakin smirked again and you grumbled in response. “No that you know every move before I do it.” 

“Well if you expanded on them, I wouldn’t know every single one so well. You will find sweet Padawan that you’re enemy will soon become accustomed to it as well.” 

You huffed then, hating how he spoke to you as if he were the master and not Obi-Wan. It was so enraging knowing how he truly saw you. “You’re infuriating!”

“Because I’m right?” 

“No, because you are so fucking full of yourself,” you snapped then, knowing how off putting it really sounded at the way his eyes widened slightly, brows raising. 

Gawking, you tried to withhold from glancing at Obi-Wan too afraid of what glare he would hold then. The moment had become too great and you had gone against the basic traits of the code with so much ease. It billowed up, consuming you, how much he could affect you, draw out the most outrageous words that you had never used for anyone in all your life. Worst of all he found it entertaining. 

“So, is that what you truly think of me?” Anakin asked, that smirk of his never ceasing, but somehow lessening as he realized the extent of your feelings towards him. His face hardened then as if feeling too the code slipping from the confines of his mind. “Well, maybe if the council had actually considered a Padawan I could compete with, I wouldn’t be. Instead, they brought me you.” 

You felt your resolve crack then, something in you shifting at the hardness in his tone. Sure he liked to tease you, be sarcastic in anyway he could to gain a reaction out of you, but in all those months you had spent training together, discussing the true works of the Jedi, he had never been so cruel. Since the day he had rescued you, he had never been anything short of kind and a little immersive towards you. 

Anakin was very passionate, held so much inside, but it had never transferred to anything other than that towards you. Until then. 

You couldn’t help it. The force and not even Obi-Wan could stop it then. Lifting your hand, you flickered your fingers so naturally, Anakin had not even noticed. Not until the stick from the ground had smacked him across the back of the head. The sound echoed off the walls and he barely even flinched at the contact. 

You noticed though how his eyes had darkened, the blue more intimidating than it ever had been. He huffed out watching the way your chest rose and fell with anger. The worst you had ever directed towards him. He couldn’t help it either in the way his own hand lifted, ready to surely do something he would regret but his master’s voice stopped him all too quickly. 

“Anakin!” 

You both were pulled back from one another, stares finding Obi-Wan’s, and you crumbled slightly at the realization of what you had done. His glare was set on both of you, a frown evident. A disappointment that the two young Padawans couldn’t be more similar to how he had been with your father. Anakin’s form deflated slightly, his hand dropping to his side, and his eyes found yours again, this time far lighter, softer, as if realizing too his actions. Shaking your head, you turned then, unable to take it anymore. You left the room, the door closing behind you in a fit of steam that very well could have matched the kind coming out of your ears. 

Anakin watched you go, suddenly filled with guilt at the thought of his senslessness having taken over. He was young but had been commended on his wisdom, his understanding, his strength and yet he couldn’t feel as if he had any of those things then. Turning cautiously to face Obi-Wan, he struggled to even speak. 

“Master—” 

“Why are you always so hard on her?” Obi-Wan asked then, taking the young Padawan back by surprise. 

“Me?” Anakin gawked then at the way Obi-Wan easily took your side more so like he always did. The chosen one became spiteful then, “Well somebody has to be.” 

“Anakin—” 

The young Padawan stepped closer, tall enough and old enough now to meet his master’s height. He felt defensive, how could he not as his master looked at him as he did. “She has been acting out against me for nearly two months now, Master.” 

“Well maybe if you wouldn’t provoke her with your words as you do she wouldn’t be so indifferent.” 

Anakin chuckled then almost finding it amusing at how Obi-Wan went about explaining your reactions to him. That boyish look appeared again, showing yet again that even though he appeared old, an adult like his mentor, there was still much to be taught. “Oh come on, Master, you know I don’t mean any of that. It is all in good fun. My words are never to bring her any harm.” 

“Intentions are not always seen so clearly.” 

Obi-Wan watched as the young man huffed, annoyance proudly showing once again, “Well, it is hard when all she wishes is to act upon anger and frustration towards me. It’s set clearly in the code, but—” 

“You know this, and yet you act back upon it towards her. You know better, Padawan. I have taught you to be better than this. You are a wise young Jedi which is why I can’t understand why you don’t see any of this for yourself.”

“Becuase it seems she has blinded me,” the young Jedi admitted, sounding suddenly far older than he was. 

“What?” 

“Everyone is trying so hard to push us together, even the force is willful of us getting close, and yet it seems she wants nothing to do with me, Master. Where I try, she pushes me away as much as possible. She doesn’t trust me,” he sighed, eyes not wavering from his mentor’s then as he repeated, “She has blinded me, and thus I feel lost.”

Obi-Wan felt his own frustrations subside at his young Padawans, both trying so hard to seem wiser than they truly were. The chosen one, especially. He had so much pressure on him all the time; he thought he had to be older and seem more ready than he really was. One day, he would make a powerful Jedi; Obi-Wan knew that. As did everyone else, and yet it takes time, energy, and understanding to get there. Most of all, it takes the simplest compassions. 

The older Jedi reached forward his hand sliding along Anakin’s shoulder with ease. “You have to give her a reason.” 

“What?” The younger Jedi let the question fall freely from his lips those eyes of his once again narrowed in confusion, his pink lips slightly parted. 

“If you want her to trust you, you must give her a reason to.”

The sun was setting on Cruscant, and its four moons would soon take its place in the sky. The stack of books were heavy in your palms — ancient ones — anything you could use to rid yourself of him and what had happened earlier. Yet as you gave up upon reading them in the library and began to bring them to your chambers, you knew it would be no use. Not even as you had showered, brushed your hair, or tried to meditate, he still remained. 

Anakin Skywalker. 

It was as if he had folded himself within your chest, and the force was accepting of it. He was everywhere all of the time and you couldn’t, just couldn’t escape it. Or the simple pull you got when you felt him near, even as you felt him from across the temple. It wasn’t something you had ever had before, not when you were a little girl having first discovered the force or even upon becoming a Padawan. You had never been able to sense someone as you had been with him, and it was too much to bear. Too much to understand as you tried to wrap your head around the universe’s reasoning. 

It made you despise him. Him and his handsome face — his smile or his laugh or a mere look from his eyes. It was as if you would never be free, free from this hold, from this strange feeling that had encompassed your entire being. It was also why you knew you couldn’t leave the Jedi Temple or Obi-Wan. He knew of this strange connection which meant so did the council. It was as if you owed this to the chosen one, to sacrifice yourself for him. 

Your robes hung loose around your frame, almost dragging across the floor; you realized because it was one of Anakin’s from the first day he had come to your chambers, the stack in your hands. As if he couldn’t have even thought to get some from the few women of the temple, but rather wished to give you another reminder of him. They were warm, no longer smelling of his sweet cologne as they had on that first day. 

Cursing yourself for having even thought about it, you strayed in the long corridor of the temple, the towering pillars unable to even grace your attention then. Even as other Padawans and Jedis strolled by, you couldn’t move but instead leaned back on the wall, eyes locked onto the rays of disappearing sunlight. Bathing your skin in the softest of colors, you closed your eyes unable to fully rid the anger that had been permanently tattooed upon you since that day. That godforsaken day in Bakura. A version of yourself you didn’t even remember anymore. 

Jedi’s who engaged in anger, in aggression, would be forsaken. Especially those given up to the council. It seemed that is all you had accomplished so far, the exact things that opposed the code of being a Jedi at all. And yet you felt it in him too. Within the chosen one, the anger, that hatred that was brewing — for what you couldn’t be sure — but only knew that it was there. Hidden away behind the banter, the smiles, the boyish actions he played into on most occasions. It was there just as it was within most of humanity. 

How had the two of you gotten here? To this point, to this unspoken feeling rooted deeply between you and him? You couldn’t help if a part of it was you. Had it been you that had done this? Manifested this feeling upon you and him? This conflict. 

It hadn’t always been that way. Not even close. 

“Are you going to lock yourself away in this room forever?” 

You sighed because, sure enough, he found you. He always did amidst the temple. You sat within the confines of a small lounge, one often Master Obi-Wan would go to for mediation. It was decorated with some of the comfiest couches, places to sink yourself into for hours on end. Then there were the plants, so green, so large, all reminding you more of home in ways you couldn’t have imagined. Weeks had gone by, weeks of beginning your Jedi training, and for some reason, it had all felt like a temporary dream sure to fade in due time. 

Turning, the young Jedi leaned within the doorway, that familiar light forming across his expression, one you had found to be quite common since that morning within your chambers where he had brought you a stack of robes — the very ones that drowned your frame at that moment. It seemed he almost knew you were thinking about it and chuckled at the sight of you swallowed up in his clothes. 

“No. It’s not as if I have been in here for days,” you bated back as he stalked closer, towering over your seated frame upon the small couch, knees hugged closely to your chest, almost resembling a child. 

“Could have fooled me. I have felt you sulking away in here for almost three hours now.” 

Your brows quirked up in curiosity, a bashful look forming and heat appearing across your cheeks at his small confession. His smile widened, that glint intensifying as he stopped just before you. He looked just as handsome as the day you had met him weeks before, with broad shoulders confined behind loose robes, his Padawan braid that now matched your own laid across his shoulder. 

“Master has sent me to come find you. He wants to try another mediation session and thinks it will help you with your lightsaber training.”

You nodded but didn’t respond to his ask of your Master. You couldn’t, not when his previous words were still holding your attention. 

It seemed he had known what you’re questionable staring was from. His sole words of how he had been able to feel you through the force, through his senses — something he had quickly become accustomed to as you had moved into the Jedi temple. 

“My senses are strong,” he explained, taking a seat on the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel his heat but not enough that he was touching you. Leaning back, he stretched his legs out, eyes refusing to leave your smaller frame, “They have gotten quite strong more so recently. The force has been all-knowing with me, and because of that, I have had the ability to see into the feelings of those who remain close around me. Jedis are very in tune with their surroundings, and one day you will feel that as well.” 

“So, you’ve been spying on me?” you asked carefully, the only thing of his whole explanation you could focus on. 

He chuckled, the sound deep, and causing goosebumps to form along your arms and neck, “Not exactly. It’s not something I can particularly control.” 

“As a Jedi or the chosen one?” 

His brows furrowed, too, taking in your features carefully, “Both, I guess. You know, one day, I will be the most powerful Jedi the council has ever seen, or at least that is what they say.” 

“You are very fond of yourself, young Skywalker,” you teased then, a smile of your own slowly forming. Only one of few he had ever seen, and he couldn’t help the feeling it gave him, some sort of comfort at the fact as if the sight could wash away any frustrations he felt. 

“I suppose I am,” he agreed, leaning in closer to test the waters by bumping his shoulder lightly with yours, “Is that so wrong of me?” 

There was a pause, some hesitation on your end, as your eyes somehow betrayed you then in favor of tracing his features, slowly as if you would never have the chance again. You shook your head then, holding his attention completely as you said, “No, not at all.” 

Your eyes fluttered open, the sun near the edge of the horizon, no longer holding much comfort as you felt something else instead. That stutter within your chest that was called a heartbeat seemed to shift, almost like it was pulled by a string. His aura seemed to invade as his heavy footsteps could be heard entering the corridor, the energy buzzing around your frame. He was desperate to find you. You could feel it. Hear it in the way he walked all while he picked up his speed, upon spotting your frame. 

Appearing around the corner, dressed in a set of robes and tunics aside from what he had been wearing earlier, that all too familiar look was there. That smirk of his, you could never escape. 

Huffing, you went to turn to head in the opposite direction of the corridor of where you came from, not caring as long as you were away from him. It didn’t matter, though, as he broke out into a jog and stopped you short with one hand blocking you in by your head. Not daring to face him, you continued to look at his hand and the way it caged you in so close, fully aware of his blue pupils locked in on the side of your face. His scent swarmed you and despite the despair and the contempt you felt for him, you couldn’t help inevitably how that scent made you feel. How it had since the first day you met him — comforted. 

“What do you want Anakin?” You finally asked, turning enough to face him and his intense gaze. 

Your back flushed against the cool wall, and his other hand appeared on the other side of your head, so you were completely caged in beneath him. That smirk of his widened slightly, not quite ready to ask you what he needed from you. “Seriously, first names, now? No, Skywalker or asshole, even?” 

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t engage in his playfulness. Not then. Not like that. 

“Y/N…” he scolded then, your name coming out intently upon his tongue. 

Your silence was insulting. You knew that. Knew it based on the annoyance that appeared in his eyes, the discomfort at just the thought. “We need to talk.” 

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you sighed, chest tightening just as the mere fact he was as close as he was, lips pursed, brows of his furrowed in concentration. Seeming to not care about the other Jedis close by who noticed the strange interaction. 

As you went to slip out from under his arm, he moved closer, enough that his chest was pressed up against the books in your arms, the only thing separating the two of you. He refused to look anywhere else than you as if he needed you to know how serious this was, how serious he was being. He needed you to know just how much he needed this. 

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me.” 

He was being serious. So completely serious, it had you almost collapsing to the ground. Unsure of where it had suddenly come from. 

“You’re stubborn,” you observed, unable to keep your gaze from faltering, flickering ever so slightly to his mouth. 

If he had noticed he hadn’t done anything to give it away. 

“And you’re closed off,” he replied back, the corners of his lips lifting in slight satisfaction, “I never said either of us was perfect.” 

Shaking your head, you couldn’t help the way he had begun to wiggle his way past the barrier you had been hiding behind for far too long. It was those eyes and that smile of his as he tried to be humorous. Slipping under his arm again, this time succeeding, you reached back to take hold of his forearm, palm meeting skin from where his sleeve had been pushed up. The warmth of it had your full attention as you pulled him further down the corridor and into the first empty room you could find. 

It was empty, dark, and slightly dusty, with mediocre desks and mats for mediation. Closing the door behind the two of you, Anakin watched as you set the books down on a nearby desk and then turned to face him. Leaning against the small furniture, one arm crossed over your chest, you waved him on as if telling him to continue. 

He was surprised, slightly taken aback by how forthcoming you seemed at that moment, and could only internally curse that he hadn’t prepared what he wanted to say. He paused for a moment, unable to as he watched the remaining peaks of golden light wash over your face, illuminating the long hair that fell along your back, the top pulled back in small braids. It was shorter than when he had met you, as you had cut almost four inches off a few days into staying at the temple. There was so much more about you that had seemed to change since that first day.

You weren’t you anymore, that much was clear. 

“I’m sorry,” he said it with so much conviction that you felt your eyes lock upon his, the way he had never held so much care in them for you until that very moment. As if he ever could. 

You couldn’t believe it, and suddenly you couldn’t want it. Not if he didn’t mean it. 

Standing then, you reached your hands out, unsure of how to even feel as just the sight of him every day reminded you of where you came from and how you got here. “Anakin—” 

“Just let me say what I have to say.” 

“Why?” you asked, suddenly exasperated with your arms outstretched, “As if it could change anything. As if none of it wasn’t true.” 

“W-What?” he stammered, suddenly aware of the glassiness that was appearing within your eyes, the true pain he had always felt a few walls or perhaps corridors away but never this closely. Never like this, where it was so loud he felt as if his senses were on overdrive. 

“I don’t belong here. I never did, and you know that.” 

He stepped closer then as if he couldn’t believe what you were saying. Not after the countless hours, days, and months that had been spent alongside one another. You had dedicated so much to being a Padawan and had sacrificed so much to understand the ways of the Jedi. For you to question that, he couldn’t understand.

“What are you saying? That you wish to leave?” 

You shrugged, the tears threatening to spill, threatening to reveal just how broken you truly were to the only man who had been able to feel it. “I don’t know, maybe.” 

“How can you even think that? Y/N, you have what it takes to be a great Jedi,” Anakin took another step closer, his frame suddenly towering over yours once more, his gaze unable to leave the tear-filled ones of yours. 

“I don’t think that I do. I feel like I’m only here because Obi-Wan knows I don’t have anywhere else to go. He pities me. I mean, look around you; Padawans are beginning their training when they are merely children. I am an adult, Anakin. I am so behind in everything, so why else would I be here?” 

“No. He cares for you. He knows what you are capable of.”

The tear slipped then, and Anakin followed it slowly with his eyes, the way it bathed your soft cheek, wetting the surface of it. Your lips were chapped, practically chewed to bits, and you appeared as if you hadn’t slept for days. 

Noticing the way he was looking at you so intently, you wiped the stray tear away, hating the thought of him seeing you like this. 

“How can I be capable of being a Jedi if I don’t even know who I am?” You offered, hands suddenly shaking so much he just wished to take hold of them to ground you at least. Turning, you faced the inside wall of the room, using all the strength you had to will those tears away. “I don’t even know if I am a good person.”

“Y/N, how could you even—” 

“There is something inside of me, Anakin. Something cold. Dark. You’ve seen it, you know. Since that day, I have felt nothing but pure hatred. I want them all to burn. I want them all to be destroyed, those who did what they did to me, to my people.” 

Slowly stepping back towards him, you turned to find his stare had never wavered. But something else had appeared. This look as if he knew you were right, a confirmation of your words. Something that now no longer only remained within the confines of your mind. Guilt appeared on his face as you smiled sadly. 

“The princess of Bakura is truly dead,” you mumbled, turning to grab your books but stopping at the feeling of his hand taking your arm gently, “Some Jedi, huh?” 

You halted then, able to feel his breathing as he stepped closer, so close it was enrapturing. With the smallest whisper, he said, “Stay.” 

Your eyes flickered up to him, unsure if you had even heard him right. You shook your head in confusion as he said it again.

“Stay anyway.” 

“How in good conscious could I ever—” 

“Because you’ll have me,” he cut you off, so much intention behind every word then, hand refusing to drop the gentle hold it had around your arm. The most he had ever touched you since the day he had swept you up from Bakura.  “You are a product of war, Y/N. That doesn’t make you a bad person, not in the slightest. And I’ve been going about this all wrong.”

You were leaning into him without even realizing it. Pulled in by his words, some of which you could have never expected, especially from him. “Anakin…” 

“You need time. You need guidance. You need to be able to instill your trust in me. There is something here, and you know it too. The force favors us together, but that can only be if we can trust one another. If I truly am the chosen one, I am capable of something such as this.” 

His hand slid from it’s hold around your arm down across your wrist and to your smaller palm. It was cold and unsteady but he didn’t care, not as he held it within his own. 

You knew then that this wasn’t normal; it couldn’t be. People couldn’t have the ability to feel this way, not even the most powerful Jedis. Anakin Skywalker had become your only line of vision, and as that feeling returned — that warmth upon your chest, that evident shift in energy, you couldn’t accept that any of it wasn’t more than either of you thought it was. 

[forever--darling]

STOP BECAUSE TUMBLR NOTIFIED ME THAT YOU POSTED AND I COULDNT BELIEVE IT, your neteyam series is literally the first one i ever read when i got into avatar in jan 2023 and it was literally the blue print for this fandom and now im into star wars and you’re going to start a new series for it? AHHHHHHHHHH i hope you’re doing well!!!! you’re literally iconic to me omgg

hehe, surprise, surprise!