summary - It's getting harder for Sam to hide his true feelings, but he'll do it anyways for you.
wordcount - 2k
a/n - getting this out a little later than I'd like </3
prev. part
You’re on the floor of your room, old newspapers spread under a pair of jeans, paint everywhere. The window’s open, a late night breeze sneaking in and messing with the corners of the paper. Sam’s cross-legged across from you, sleeves rolled up, tongue pressed to the corner of his mouth as he drags a messy lightning bolt down one leg of his jeans.
“Ew, you’re literally painting a superhero costume,” you say, squinting at his work.
He glances up. “At least I’m not painting an actual superhero…what kinda nerd paints their hoco jeans superman?”
“Um, a cultured one-” You dab at a superman logo near the thigh. “Some of us actually have a vision.”
“Yeah, okay, geek.”
You flick a little paint at him. It lands on his cheek. “Oops.”
He stares at you for a beat, then dips his brush in blue and flicks it back. You squeal, ducking behind your hands. He laughs—full, easy, real—and for a second it feels like the world is only this: paint, laughter, and the smell of detergent.
Then you ruin it without meaning to.
“So, Ethan said if I wanted to hang in the library tomorrow…so I might not be there for lunch.”
The brush freezes in his hand. “Yeah, cool- I don’t care.”
He goes back to painting, but the strokes come out sharper, heavier. You don’t notice. You're humming again, focused on a panel of superman. He looks at you once, his jaw tight, and doesn’t say another word.
The next morning, the silence in the car ride to school is almost suffocating. You try to lift the mood with a joke or two but his smile is quick to fade. After you two part ways to class, you can’t help but think something was off with him. It was like that the whole day, him staring off into space as you talked, eventually just choosing to stay quiet. The car ride home was no better either, you let the radio fill the heavy silence the whole way home.
Monday [6:05PM]
You: hey do yk what ur gonna wear tmrw 4 bikers vs surfers??
You: sammy?
Read 6:09 PM
You frowned at that, you didn’t know why he was being so distant all of the sudden. Was he using again? No, he’d tell you if he was. Right?
You decided to just lay out your outfit for tomorrow, it could help take your mind off of things. You were gonna be a surfer until you spotted a leather jacket in your closet– his –and if you knew Sam, which you did, he wasn’t gonna miss the opportunity to dress closer to his own style if he could.
“Hey, I see we had the same idea-” you giggled as you slid into the car.
“Yea- guess so. Or I just wore what I always wear.” he said flatly before he began to drive.
Yikes. Whatever was going on yesterday seemed to be continuing today. It seemed like no matter what you talked about, sam was just looking through you, not paying attention to anything.
“Hey- whats up with you lately?” you nudged his shoulder as you guys sat together in physics.
“Hm? Nothing- I’m just…not in a mood for school spirit” he said as he drifted back to reality.
“Okay. You’d tell me if it was something else, right?” your brow furrowed as you tried to look for a hint of what was really going on in his face. Nothing. Just that same clench of his jaw and distant look in his eyes.
“Yea, right.”
Tuesday [8:37PM]
Sam: hey, srry for being weird earlier.
[8:45]
You: no prob, js glad ur not icing me out anymore lol
Sam: i could never.
You reacted with heart
Wednesday felt lighter than the last few days. You were both in your neon shirts for spirit day as you headed towards lunch.
“Is it just me, or is this spirit week kinda lame?”
“I think you’re just lame, you didn’t even dress up for bikers vs surfers day.” you playfully hit him as you guys entered the lunch room.
“I did too- I was a biker ‘member?” he said through his usual smirk. There he was.
“Wearing the clothes you wear on a daily basis, so doesn’t count”
“Yea, the school paper thought so- I ended up on the front cover for a reason.”
“I was right there with you, don’t even-” you said as you guys sat down at your usual spot.
After a few more teasing remarks, you guys started to make your plans for homecoming with Corey and Nat. The plan was simple, you and Nat get ready together while Sam and Corey did the same, they go pick you guys up, make fun of the decorations–maybe dance a little– bam, school dance over. But you wanted something more. You wanted to go to a dance like in the movies. For a guy to nervously ask you out while you said yes with the same nerves. But you’d settle for this, it was nice too.
Wednesday [6:54PM]
Sam: wyd
You: nothing
just got out the shower y
Sam: need the notes from last physics class
[7:04PM]
You: [ 3 attachments]
Sam: ?
think u sent one of those on accident…
You: shit srry
ignore that
Sam: why’d u screenshot a text from ethan?
You: needed nats help
yk
shes good with that type of stuff
Sam: oh
The next day you guys were sitting at lunch, your painted superman logo glimmering with hope. You’re mid-laugh when Sam glances around at all the couples excited for the dance.
“I bet you half of these homecoming dates won’t make it past next week, they just want someone to show off that night.”
You poke at your lunch, smile flickering. “Yea, totally.”
He tries to laugh it off, spinning his fork. “I mean, at least we’ve got the friend group thing, right?”
“Right.” you half heartedly smile, though it doesn’t sound convincing. He took a moment to look at you before poking at his lunch tray.
Later that day during 8th period, Ethan caught you by your locker after class. His cheeks were red, his words tripping up as his friends waited in the background for morale.
“So, uh—homecoming. You uh, have any plans?” he managed to get out without stuttering. It was sweet, the way he got flustered around you.
“Uh, nothing big, just with some friends-”
“Do you wanna go? With me, I mean?”
You blink. You weren’t expecting anything so soon, especially not a dance.
“Yea, sure. I’d like that.” you smiled softly as you felt your own cheeks begin to warm.
You find Sam near the exit. He’s leaning against the wall, phone in hand, pretending to scroll.
“Hey,” you start. “I’m sorry, I know we were gonna go as a group, but get this– ethan just asked me out.” your heart was still stammering from the moment. He could see the pure happiness on your face. He knew this was what you wanted, what you’d never admit you dreamed of. Hopeless romantics, am I right?
“Don’t worry about it, geek,” he cuts in, forcing a grin. “I’ll still have Corey and Nat. You, go to the dance with Ethan."
You laugh awkwardly. “You sure?”
“Positive.”
You hug him before you turned to the door. “You coming?”
“Yea I’ll be there in a sec. Just gotta grab something from my locker”
You nodded before you walked out the door. His smile drops from his face the second you turn. He couldn’t stand the thought of another guy being the one to make your wish come true, but he knew it meant a lot to you, so he’d take it if it meant he could see you smile.
It’s saturday evening, the big day. You’re in front of the mirror with Nat, curling the last strand of your hair. The air is thick with the smell of hairspray and victoria's secret perfume.
“Omg babes, you look so good right now” she says. “Ethan’s totally gonna get a hard on when he sees you.”
You laugh, but it sounds shaky. “Ew Nat, you’re so gross-”
“Grossly right- come on, I told you he was gonna ask. No one uses that many emojis ever unless they’ve gotta thing for you.”
“I was getting scared he wasn’t gonna ask-” you said as you brushed the last of your curls out.
“Well he did- now you won’t be stuck pretending like you wouldn’t rather be slow dancing to a song while you were with us” she teases.
“Don’t say that- I would’ve been happy either way.”
Meanwhile, across town, Sam’s tugging at his tie in Corey’s room.
“Dude, you’re gonna strangle yourself,” Corey says as he fixes his own.
“I’m fine, but even if I did- would that be so bad? Don’t even wanna go to this stupid dance.” If he was trying to act like he was unbothered, he was doing a really bad job at it right now.
“You can’t be mad at Ethan cause he had the balls to do what you couldn’t…” Corey said as he dabbed his cologne on.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Sam snapped back.
“Nothing man, nothing.”
After they were done, they drove over to pick up Nat. You were already outside with Ethan and a corsage around your wrist by the time they pulled up. The second the car stopped, Sam’s eyes found you. The porch light was hitting your hair perfectly, illuminating the soft frame around your face it created, and his throat went dry.
Ethan grins at him. “Nice jacket, man.”
“Yeah. You too.”
That’s it. That’s the whole exchange. But Sam feels the words stick in his chest like needles.
The gym looked different with all the fairy lights and hand-painted banners hanging around it. You could feel the bass of the music through your chest. Ethan went to go grab you two some punch as you waited by the bleachers. You thought you’d be more excited than this. You were trying to enjoy the night, but couldn’t understand why you felt kinda, empty. Ethan’s nice—safe—but it doesn’t feel like how the movies show it. Not even close.
Across the room, Sam’s with Corey, laughing too loud, trying to look unbothered as he glances over at you and your date. Failing to hide the clench of his jaw.
Then a slow song starts.
Ethan holds out his hand. “Care to dance, milady?”
You let out an awkward laugh and nod. He pulls you in close, hand on your waist, other holding your hand to guide you. The world softens, just a little, but it’s not what you thought it would be. His hand is warm, sure, but it doesn’t send that spark everyone talks about. You should feel the butterflies by now, but you don’t. Is something wrong with you? Why don’t you feel anything?
Your gaze starts to drift.
Sam’s standing by the doors, hands in his pockets, eyes locked on you. The second you met his stare, your heart stuttered and everything seemed as if it was moving in slow mo.
That’s it. That's the feeling. The one you’ve been waiting for.
He’s the first to look away before you see him back out through the doors.
After the dance, Ethan drops you off at your house. You could hear the faint buzz of the porch light as he brought you up the stairs. You smiled, told him you had fun. It’s almost true. He asks for a kiss goodnight, and you agree. It was sweet, simple. Kind of like those old school movies, only without the feelings.
Inside, you’re taking down your hair, heart still racing—but not for the reason you think.
Somewhere across town, Sam’s sitting on the hood of Corey’s car, staring at nothing. He exhales slowly, pretending that the burn in his chest was just from the smoke. But it’s not, and he knows that.
a/n- yvie try not to self-insert level IMPOSSIBLE. little later than I'd like, but hope you guys likeee! i was indeed doing those superman jeans...
summary - After being friends with you for so long, Sam starts to wonder whats really lingering beneath the surface.
wordcount - 1.3 k
a/n - making this a new series...
next part
Your room smells faintly of coconut and old paper — a mix of candles and books that’s probably been etched into the walls by now. The desklight’s warm, soft, and reflects against the posters that cover half your wall — star wars, superheroes, a couple of band flyers you never went to but liked the colors of, even some celebrity crushes.
Sam’s sprawled across your bed like he owns it, one arm tucked behind his head, the other lazily flipping through your notebook. His boots hang off the edge, leaving a little smear of dirt you’ll yell at him for later.
You’re sitting at your desk, practically vibrating.
“—and the wildest part is that the Voyager probe has actual music encoded on it- like, they literally made a playlist for aliens. Bach, Beethoven, Chuck Berry—”
“Yea cause aliens love ‘Beethoven,’ huh?” Sam cuts in, his voice lazy.
You spin around in your chair to glare at him. “Ugh, you’re missing the point!”
He smirks, not looking up from your notebook. “Oh yea? And what point is that? That you’re never gonna get laid?.”
You toss a crumpled paper ball at him. He doesn’t even flinch. “You’re the worst listener.”
“Wrong,” he says, flipping to another page. “I’m the best listener. I just enjoy making you short-circuit over whatever new nerd thing you’re into.”
You narrow your eyes, stand up, and snatch the notebook out of his hands. “If you’re gonna be rude about my passions—”
He props himself up on his elbows, grin sharp. “Passions? Oh that’s what we’re calling alien playlists now?”
“Oh my god,” you groan, flopping onto the bed beside him. “You’re so rude.”
The mattress dips under your weight, you’re close enough that your knees bump. His grin falters for a second. You don’t notice. You’re too busy flipping your notebook open again, pencil between your fingers as you start sketching a spaceship.
“Do you ever just…” you mumble, gripping the pencil a little tighter, “think about how small we are? Like, really small?”
He hums. “All the time.”
You glance at him — expecting a joke, but he’s quiet now, eyes soft.
“Kind of depressing, right?” you say, half-laughing.
He shakes his head, still watching you. “Nah. Makes the little stuff matter more.”
You blink. “Since when do you care about the little things?”
He leans back, smirking again. “Since now. Don’t tell anyone though, it’ll ruin my reputation.”
You grin. “You and cool do not belong in the same sentence. You literally just tripped over my backpack five minutes ago.”
“That backpack shouldn’t have been there,” he says flatly.
“You put it there!”
He shrugs. “Still your fault.”
You roll your eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck in your head, but you’re still smiling. It’s easy, like it always is — that steady rhythm the two of you fall into. You talk. He teases. You laugh. He watches.
Later, when he gets up to leave, he grabs your pen off the bed.
“Hey!” you call, sitting up. “That’s mine!”
He grins over his shoulder, pen twirling between his fingers. “you’ll get it back, nerd, you always do.”
You throw another paper ball at him, but he’s already halfway down the hall, laughing.
When reaches the front door, he stops for a second
His grin fades a little, replaced by something softer, maybe fondness. He turns the pen over in his hand, thumb brushing the tiny tooth marks near the cap.
“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Such a nerd.”
He smiles — small, crooked.
“Kinda perfect, though.”
Sam’s car smells like cigarettes and the faintest smell of coffee – the exact kind of thing you’ve come to expect. The passenger seat is littered with receipts and a hoodie you’re 80% sure used to be yours.
He honks once when he pulls up to your driveway, even though you’re already waiting on the porch.
“You’re early,” you say, sliding into the seat.
“You’re slow,” he shoots back, grinning.
You roll your eyes, buckling in, and mess with the buttons on the radio. Some alt-rock station he had set hums to life.
“You know,” you say, “scientifically speaking, honking actually increases driver aggression.”
“Scientifically speaking,” he replies, “you’re gonna end up alone.”
You nudge his shoulder. He smirks. It’s the same kind of easy vibe you’ve always had — your coffee cup clinking against his energy drink in the cup holders, your elbow brushing against his when the car hits a bump, both of you pretending not to notice.
At school, the hallway buzzes like a beehive — lockers slamming, sneakers squeaking. You’re at your locker, trying to balance a stack of books while Sam leans against the one next to yours, almost like he’s guarding the door.
“Do you seriously need 3 binders?” he asks.
“Organization is key, Sammy.”
“Yea? So is chilling out. You should try it sometime. Heard it does wonders for your skin.”
You’re mid-eye-roll when a voice pipes up from behind — some classmate, half-teasing:
“So, you two are, like, a thing, right?” she said through a giggle
You freeze for a millisecond, then laugh, loud and awkward.
“What? ew, no- he’s just my best friend.”
Sam’s head turns toward you, but you don’t see it — you’re too busy shoving a textbook onto the top shelf. He covers the flicker in his chest with a smirk.
“Yeah,” he says, voice light and easy. “Gross.”
The word lands flat.
The other girl laughs and moves on. You keep talking, oblivious — some joke about how people always assume boys and girls can’t just be friends. Sam nods, pretending to listen.
But the words stick, looping over and over like a broken record
‘Just my best friend.’
He watches you stuff your books away, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear without realizing it, the smile you give him when you finally close your locker — bright, warm, untouched by anything heavier than your dose of caffeine.
You turn to go, and he falls into step beside you like he always does.
“Come on, nerd,” he says. “You’ll be late to your geek club.”
“It’s physics,” you correct.
“Same thing.”
You laugh. He doesn’t. Not really.
The hallway swallows you both, the chatter rising around him, but the words still hum under his skin — just my best friend, over and over, until they don’t sound like words anymore.
Later that day at lunch, you’re talking about some new book you’re reading that he couldn't be bothered to even fake listening to. He’s tossing the apple from his lunch in his hand, gaze distant before you cut in.
“Hey, you listening?” you said with your voice light, brows slightly furrowed.
“Hm? Oh yea, sorry – you were saying?”
You squint at him, skeptical. “Why’d you space out?”
He shrugs, catching the apple again with one hand. “You lost me somewhere around protagonist’s moral dilemma.”
You roll your eyes. “It’s literally the main theme of the book.”
“Yeah, well, I’m more of a movie guy. Less thinking involved.”
“Wow. Truly a man of culture.”
He smirks, ready to fire back, but his attention drifts past your shoulder. A couple of guys at the next table are looking your way — one of them, some kid from your English class, grins when you catch his eye. You give a small, polite smile back without thinking.
And just like that, the air shifts.
Sam’s hand tightens around the apple before he tosses it back onto his tray. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
“So that’s the dude from English, huh?” he asks not-so-casually.
You blink. “What? Oh—yeah, that’s Ethan. He borrowed my copy of the book.”
“Nothing,” he says quickly, eyes on his tray now. “Just—he seems like the type.”
You raise a brow, waiting for the punchline. There isn’t one. The silence stretches just long enough to feel tense before you reach for your sandwich.
“Anyway,” you say, forcing a laugh, "I think you’d like the book, if you’d actually give it a chance.”He hums noncommittally, still staring at the table.
Across the cafeteria, Ethan laughs at something one of his friends says, and for the briefest second, Sam’s jaw flexes.
a/n- omg, lmk if you guys like it, I'll be sure to update asappp!
I won't write anything incestuous, illegal age gaps, or any weird fetishes. Other than that, feel free to request what you'd like and I'll try my best to get to it!
aetherialgeek on both insta and tiktok (I'll start posting soon ♡)
⟡ current obsessions
star wars, marvel, dc, higher ground
⟡ fun facts
My favorite colors are blue, purple, and pink- in that order.
I love anything magical, unicorns, princesses, glitter, space, the universe, you know, the works.
I love reading both actual books as well as comics.
I love collecting legos, dvds, vinyl records, and figures!
I love chappell roan, sabrina carpenter, olivia rodrigo, and ariana grande, though my music taste varies a lot.
I love writing fanfics and editing! I decided to start posting on here recently, and have made new editing accounts on tiktok and insta as mentioned before! stay tuned...
⟡ Why I write! (sensitive topics coming up, this is your warning.)
I've struggled with self-harm, eating disorders, as well as just family and friend issues in general, so I started writing as a way to cope and a creative outlet. I hope that you guys like my stories, and I'm always hoping to really bring them to life from the deep crevices of my mind!
a/n - idk I had this random ass idea and there's been a drought of scott fics </3
Gym class. Your least favorite class, and of course, today was dodgeball.
You could already feel the knots in your stomach as Coach dragged the cart of red rubber balls across the floor. Nothing good ever came from dodgeball – just a bunch of bruises and an even sorer ego.
“Alright!” Coach barked. “Uhh, two captains today. Barringer and Jones — YOU’RE UP!”
You sighed. Of course Scott Barringer volunteered. The guy basically lived under a bench press and treated gym like it was life or death. He was already rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles like he was about to enter the ring, that cocky smirk plastered on his face.
Your friend leaned in. “Okay, he’s like way too into this.”
“Yeah,” you muttered. “God, you’d think there were NFL scouts in the bleachers the way he’s acting…”
The whistle blew again. “Barringer, you pick first!”
Scott surveyed the line of students, that unreadable half-smile never leaving his face. You rolled your eyes at his eagerness — it was high school dodgeball, not the championship game.
“Y/N,” he said, without hesitation.
You froze.
The first pick?
Confusion washed over you. His friends who were still waiting in line gave him a look — what the fuck? one of them mouthed. Scott just shrugged, still wearing that stupid grin. “She’s in high demand. Can’t risk losing her.”
Your friend snorted. “Oh my god, is he being serious right now?”
You stared at him, trying to figure out if this was some kind of elaborate prank. “Uh… me?” you said as you pointed back at yourself.
“Did I stutter, princess?” Scott said, spinning the ball in his hand. “We don’t have all day, I'd suggest you move it.”
You raised a brow as you nervously shuffled over. “Um. Okay.”
You and Scott weren’t exactly strangers, but you sure as hell weren’t friends. It was more of an occasional tease here and there kind of thing.
Still, the way he was looking at you now — like you were some secret weapon only he could see — left your stomach doing that annoying twisty thing again.
The whistle blew.
You barely had time to breathe before dodgeballs came flying in like they had a personal vendetta. It was pure chaos — sneakers squeaking, people shrieking, Coach yelling something about “AIM BELOW THE SHOULDERS!” that no one listened to anyways.
You ducked as a ball came flying past your head. “WOAH- too close!” you yelped, diving behind one of your teammates for cover.
Scott, of course, was in his element.He was barking out orders like a retired veteran, already knocking out half the other team within the first thirty seconds. Every throw was precise, controlled — like he was born for this.
“JONES, you gotta get your people back in!” Coach shouted.
Scott looked over his shoulder and waved you over. “Y/N! Get up here!”
You blinked from behind your human shield. “Me?”
“Nah, that dodgeball behind you…yes, you.” he snarked back.
“Hell no, I am not cut out for this.”
He smirked, tossing you a spare ball. “Come on, it’s not that bad, you’ll live.”
You caught it — barely — the rubber slapping awkwardly against your palms. He stepped closer, voice low enough only you could hear over the chaos.
“Just throw it,” he said. “Don’t overthink it.”
You shot him a look. “Easy for you to say, you’ve got some weird motivation to excel in anything physical.”
He grinned. “You tryna sweet talk me, princess?”
Before you could reply, a blur of red flew past his head — thwack! — nailing another player behind him.
Scott’s grin widened. “You wanted motivation? That’s your motivation.”
You tried not to roll your eyes as you raised the ball, took a shaky breath, and threw. It was… less than ideal. The ball sailed weakly through the air before it plopped to the ground a few feet from your target. You heard a faint snicker from them before you retreated in humiliation.
“Okay,” you muttered. “So that was embarrassing."
“Not bad for a first try,” Scott said, fighting a laugh.
“shut up.”
The round pressed on, the gym echoing with the sound of rubber smacking against floors and bodies. Your team was winning — mostly because Scott refused to let them do anything but win.
After what felt like an eternity of dodging balls and trying to not get run over by your own team, half the other team was out, and somehow, you were still standing.
Coach blew the whistle. “Final red line!”
That meant no more hanging back — you had to push the other team back, or it was game over.
You glanced over at Scott, grinning like he knew there was no other outcome but victory.
“Come on, you ready princess?” he said.
You swallowed. “Uh, define ready.”
Scott’s grin only widened. “You’ll see.”
Before you could ask what that meant, the whistle blew again — and all hell broke loose.
Balls came flying in from every direction, the gym echoing with shouts and squeaks and thuds. It was the final minutes, and Scott was moving like it was one of his football games — dodging, catching, throwing, all with that same infuriating confidence.
You, on the other hand, were just trying to make it through the game without getting nailed in the face.
At one point, you ducked behind him as a ball nearly nailed you in the face. Scott turned, catching it midair before it could hit you.
“You’re welcome,” he called, smug.
“What do you want, a cookie?” you shot back.
One of his friends groaned from the sideline. “Dude, quit babysitting and play!”
Scott ignored him completely, eyes still locked on you. “Stay behind me, alright?”
“Aw,” you muttered. “What a gentleman.” you mocked
He just smirked. “Hey, somebody’s gotta keep you in one piece.”
The match dragged on until it was just a handful left — and you managed to survive. You weren’t sure if it was luck, adrenaline, or Scott constantly blocking hits meant for you, but hey, a win is a win.
Then, just like that — THWAK! — the last opponent went down.
The whistle blew. “Anddd- game!” Coach barked.
Your team erupted into cheers. You let out a shaky breath, brushing your hair from your face as the adrenaline settled.
Scott tossed his ball into the cart, still breathing hard, that usual smirk tugging at his lips.
“Not bad, princess,” he said, passing you as everyone started heading for the locker rooms.
You raised a brow. “You mean for someone who can’t throw?”
He tilted his head. “Hey, you lasted longer than half the guys out there.”
You couldn’t tell if that was an insult or a compliment — probably both.
As you turned to go, he lingered for a moment longer than he needed to. His friends were already heading out, but he looked like he wanted to say something else.
Instead, he just nodded once, a small, unreadable smile. “Guess I was right to pick you first.”
You blinked, thrown off. “Uh… thanks, I guess,”
He grinned faintly. “See you in class.”And then he was gone — walking off like he didn’t just leave your heart beating way too fast for dodgeball.
a/n- okay so...first time posting something on here. feel free to lmk your thoughts! I wanna start writing more on here, so if you have any requests send them in! <3
summary: you wake up in an unfamiliar room, with a droid there to tend to you. tensions unfold as you give anakin a piece of your mind for his actions. eventually trying to convince him to overthrow palpatine and end the empire.
warnings: angst, yelling, brief mentions of torture (from previous chapter)
a/n: im so sorry this one isnt GN, it was really annoying to keep writing "mr/mrs" for things.
The moment his droid injected you with the syringe, you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Your muscles no longer felt tense and stiff, slowly loosening up as you sat up in the bed.
"Where am I?" You ask the droid as it whirls around, getting things ready.
"This is Lord Vader's personal chambers, Lady Skywalker." It said, placing the syringe down on a table.
"Stop calling me that." You mumble, shifting around in the soft sheets to get a good look of the room. It was plain, bare minimum furniture around.
"Stop calling you what– no, please stay in the bed for your own safety. You are not ready to be holding up your own weight yet." The droid said, immediately coming back to your side as you tried stepping out of the bed.
"I'm perfectly alright." You snarl at the droid, it hastily nodding and allowing you to stand. The moment your weight was transfered onto your feet, you felt like your legs would give way at any second. The droid being a medical one just couldn't allow you to do this on your own, offering its shiny, silver arm as support, which you hesitantly took.
"I must get out of here." You say, taking a step. Where you were going, you had no idea. Looking down at yourself, you realized your old robes were gone. Replaced with clean, nicer smelling black ones.
Immediately a wave of anger came over you. Who dared to undress you—
"It's alright. I took the liberty of taking away your old ones. You were due for a change of outfit regardless." The droid said, relaxing your nerves a little more. As long as it wasn't Anakin.
"Right." You nod, letting go of its arm. You got this.
"As for getting out of here, I'm afraid I cannot let you do that." It calmly walked after you, not really needing to chase as you couldn't walk very fast.
"And whats that supposed to mean?" You said, turning your head towards it.
"Unfortunately I was required to alert Lord Vader the moment you regained your consciousness. He will be here shortly."
"What?" You say, mind already working overtime to figure out what to do next. Hide? You weren’t really of much use currently, with your moves being as uncoordinated as Obi-Wan trying to ride a Bantha. Grabbing the syringe the droid left on the table you grab the droid and pull it away towards the bathroom.
"Make any noise when he comes, and I'll stab this so hard into your circuits, not even the greatest mechanic in the galaxy will be able to save you." You threaten, ducking down in a corner next to some sort of control panel. Maybe you could wire it to get some sort of signal out to the Rebellion. Tell them you were alive.
The droid nods silently, watching as you attempt to open up the panel. Moving your own hand away, its finger opens up to a screwdriver, undoing the screws on the panel.
Maybe this droid could be of use after all.
The moment you pulled the panel off, the sound of the rooms doors hissed open. Kriff.
Heavy sounding footsteps entered the room, and you dared to peek your head out from behind the table to check where he was.
Standing near the dresser, Anakin took off the mask, placing it down on the table. He could feel your presence, it wasn't easy to hide. Turning towards your hiding spot, barely missing your head darting back behind. You pressed a finger to your lips, staring the droid down, as you held up the syringe.
You knew you couldn't really do anything. Holding some sort of sharp object gave you a small sense of satisfaction, however. If he could walk past you— you could use the Force to take the lightsaber clipped to Anakin's belt. At least that way it would be more fair for you.
In the midst of thinking of all this, you poked your head back out to check where he was.
Where he was.
Where was he.
Dread rose through your body like fire in your veins as you realize he wasn't in your field of view anymore. You couldn't hear his heavy footsteps, nor feel his presence.
That was when what you thought was a wall that you hid in front of, moved.
"Y/N." His voice came, and you whipped your head around. Crawling backwards hastily in order to put space between you two, still dragging the droid along with you, you hold the syringe to its neck.
"Master, help me! Lady Skywalker has gone insane." The droids panicked voice was still ever so calm as it was dragged along with you.
"Y/N, stop." He said, taking a step toward you, to which you went even further away.
"Y/N. Seriously. Put it down." He said, standing where he was as you hit the actual wall behind you.
"I'm not putting it down." You glance up at his belt. Shoot. No saber there anymore.
Following your eyes to his belt, he smiled internally. He knew you far too well for your own liking.
"Leave the droid. It has done nothing but try to help you." He pleaded. And you relented, letting go of the droid and watching as it stood up.
"How uncivilized." It said, brushing itself off.
"Leave us." Anakin told it, and it hobbled out the room, leaving you on the floor. Honestly, you would have gotten up by now. Your muscles were still working on that though.
As Anakin shut the doors to the room, he turned around to see you hooking your arm onto his desk to pull yourself up. By habit, he went to go help you up.
The moment his gloved hand touched your arm, you yanked it back like it burned.
"Don't you touch me." You hiss at him. He lost the rights to get to do that to you long ago.
"You need help–"
"I don't need help from you." You say, hoisting yourself to your feet.
"Can we just talk?" He says, following you as you walk away from him.
"About what? About how your buddies decided to send over 200 volts of energy into my body? About how I was drugged and knocked unconscious to get here in the first place?" You say, turning around to look at him. The feeling from before, where you were too tired to say anything to him had vanished, and you found yourself going off at him.
"What? What do you want to talk about?" You say, holding onto the wall for support, yet still standing tall.
"–I don't. I don't know." He said. In all his years in the Empire, he had never found himself at a loss for words. Until now. Until he looked at you and only saw the girl he fell in love with so many years ago on Coruscant.
"What now, Vader?" You say his name like it was poison on your tongue. "You gonna keep me here? Hold me hostage and force me to give you names of Rebel leaders?" You say, voice raising a little.
"I did not say I was going to do that." He raises his voice at you, immediately regretting it as he catches the flash of fear run through your eyes.
"Right." You held your tongue back, clenching your jaw. You had no power over him currently. Best be to work something out later.
"Please. Just– sit." He said, walking over to the bed. "I don't want to see you hurt yourself any more."
You followed over, not because he told you to. Because you also thought it would be better to sit than collapse. "Yes, hurt myself any further than your devoted employees did. Right?"
"Can you stop with that? I had no knowledge of your presence on this ship until after they had begun– interrogation tactics." He said, looking down at you.
"But now you're here." He said out loud, mostly to himself, however.
"Yeah. Now what. You gonna kill me?" You say, voice wavering against your will.
"I'm.. not." He said, although he knew damn well, that would be his first orders from Palpatine the moment he caught word of your capture.
"Hm, well what will your close friend Palpatine have to say about that?" You snarl.
"I don't take orders from him!" Anakin yelled, surprising you. He did take orders from him. You sat, staring at him after the little outburst.
"I just. I don't– I don't know what to do." He said, sitting on the bed, facing the window, staring out into empty space.
Hesitance. You could work this into your favor. "You can let me go." You say.
"I can't do that." I don't want to do that. He wanted to keep you here, with him. All those years ago, he asked if you would come with him. And now he had you here again. He didn't want to let go.
"And why not?" You snap. You wanted to be anywhere else but here. Not just because of Anakin.
A small part of you didn't mind his company. And wondered how it would have been if he had been in the Rebellion alongside you.
"Because I don't want to let you go again." He raised his own voice to match yours, turning his head from the window to look at you.
"Well if you hadn't done... all this. You wouldn't have to." You say, trying to keep yourself composed despite the feelings of longing hitting you like waves crashing onto rocks.
"I did it for you. I told you." That was his excuse. His reason to justify all of this.
Clenching your jaw to stop yourself from screaming at him, you take a breath.
"I didn't want this. And I know for a fact now, you don't either. Cause if you did, I'd be dead already." You sigh.
"I don't understand why you still go along with Palpatine's plans. You told me yourself– you're more powerful than he ever could be. You could put a stop to all of this. But you wont. And I dont know why."
He felt like lashing out. Hitting something. It would be easier to do so than think about what hes been doing in the Empire.
"I'm not gonna stop what I do. And if I die doing so, so be it. And if it's by your hand– then that guilt will live alongside you forever." You say, finally meeting his eyes.
He missed you so much. So very much. He knew what he wanted to do. It was now just a matter of getting over his giant ego to tell you.
Tell you he was sick of all the death.
Would you believe him?
You had once told him you would trust in him, no matter what. Whether or whether not that was the case now, would only be determined when he got the courage to say it.
He wanted to come with you. Kill Palpatine. End the Empire.
Obviously, it wouldn't go back to being all happy days again. But seeing you again made him remember how much joy you brought him. And he wanted to feel that way again.
You could feel him contemplating something. And you wanted him to spit it out.
"What is it?" You said, voice harboring more care than you thought you would be able to muster up.
After a long pause. He finally looked up at you.
"You were right."
It felt like chains had been unshackled.
"You were always right. I dont want to do this anymore." He said. He would not cry in front of you. Not yet, anyway.
"I want to be on the right side again. And thats the side that you always choose."
Oh.
You had dreamed of this happening. You wouldn't tell anyone that you did, ever. But you did.
And now he was really saying that he wanted to be with you. Leave the Empire.
"So why don't you?" Was all you said.
For once in a very, very long time. Anakin Skywalker knew what he wanted to do. And why he wanted to do it.
For you.
tags: @deathyriver @enchantedyvie @verysynical @wayneics [adding to my taglist!! comment or ask if you want to be added 🥹🥹]
anakin skywalker starts his summer break as a heartbroken guy over the break up with padmé amidala, yet while he was drinking his blueberry slushy in a gas station by a desert highway, he met a girl called y/n y/l/n, who was a wild and free spirited girl with tons of flings. what if the summertime sadness turns into a fake relationship? anakin wants revenge and jealousy, and y/n wants fun and drama.
hey man! a little summer in 1972 with tons of cigarettes, fleetwood mac, cherry cola and car drives to gas stations with stolen kisses 💋
🍒 chapters:
prologue: pilot.
chapter one: star-crossed lovers.
chapter two: west end girl.
chapter three: cigarettes, milkshakes and an agreement.
chapter four: midnights become my afternoons, like stars become films.
chapter five: california dreamin'.
chapter six: little lies, tell me sweet little lies.
pixelskylines
discoholicmusic
kaledo-art
origamiaround
romaincrisis
snowghoul
yousharknotpass
