ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER
CHAPTER SIX
Synopsis: It all began with a mission—one that would change Anakin’s life forever, turning him from a young Padawan into a man in love.
Warnings: None, just pure fluff.
Words: 1.6K
A/N: Hey, loves 💕 I honestly can’t believe we’ve reached this moment—the final chapter of a fanfic that has meant so much to me. This story gave me the chance to explore Anakin’s journey, not just as a Padawan caught in the chaos of war, but as someone discovering the depth and fragility of love in a galaxy that never stops testing him. Writing this romance, watching it unfold in stolen moments and against impossible odds, has been such an emotional experience, and I’m so grateful I got to share it with you.
Your support along the way has been incredible. Even with my inconsistent pace and the long pauses between updates, you stayed with me—you commented, reblogged, liked, and most of all, encouraged me to keep going until the very end. I couldn’t have finished without you, truly.
This chapter may close the door on this particular story, but it opens the way for new projects, new adventures, and new chances to fall in love with these characters all over again. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, for being here with me. Every little piece of feedback, every kind word, every bit of love you’ve given this fic has meant the world. 💫 dividers by @/enchanthings
It had been just over two months since you first crossed paths with Anakin Skywalker, and in those two months, he had unraveled your life and rewoven it entirely around him. The Padawan who had seemed so brash, so headstrong, had slipped quietly into your heart until it was no longer yours alone. He had carved his name there, and with every sunrise, your feelings grew deeper, richer, more impossible to contain.
The galaxy was breaking apart. The Clone Wars had shattered the fragile rhythm of life in the Republic, throwing the Jedi into constant danger and the people into fear. Yet, in the middle of that chaos, love bloomed between you and Anakin, delicate but unyielding. War had taught you both how fragile existence was, how quickly everything could fall apart like a tower of sand against a sudden storm. One heartbeat and it could all be gone.
The memory of Geonosis still haunted him. Thousands of clones, freshly forged on Kamino, had fallen in that arena, brothers in shinning white armour, lifeless on the scarred earth before they had even lived. Anakin could still see one in particular, the way the explosion had been faster than thought, the way black smoke had smeared across his face, hot and choking. A boy made to fight, gone before his name could ever be spoken.
Obi-Wan’s words rang hollow when he tried to console him. They were created for this. It is their purpose. Duty, necessity, sacrifice, all the usual Jedi mantras. But they gave Anakin no comfort. To him, every death was a failure. He was supposed to protect, to save, to be more. And still, the galaxy around him was filled with loss. He felt cursed, a magnet for tragedy. Every time happiness touched his fingers, something tore it away.
You noticed his silence, the way he stared through the space between you, lost in shadows. You had only asked him what he wanted to eat, something light, mundane, and he hadn’t answered. Instead, he sat there with his jaw tight, shoulders rigid, as though carrying the weight of unseen battles. Gently, you brushed the unruly strands of sandy hair from his eyes, coaxing him back into the moment.
“What’s on your mind, my love?” you asked softly.
“Nothing,” Anakin said too quickly, the practiced lie of a man who bore masks for everyone else. But when his stormy blue gaze met yours, the walls fell away. He couldn’t hide from you, didn’t want to. With you, he was not a Padawan, not a soldier. He was just Anakin, a boy aching for love, for belonging, for you.
“I was thinking about how life ends so suddenly,” he admitted at last, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. His hand lifted, thumb tracing the curve of your cheek, then down to your shoulder, lingering on the warmth of your skin as though afraid it might vanish at any second. “How you can be here one day, and the next… all I’d have left would be the memory of you.”
“I don’t want to live in that tomorrow,” Anakin whispered, the words raw with urgency. “I don’t want to breathe in a world where you don’t exist.”
“Anakin,” you said his name, and it was enough to ignite him from the inside out. His entire body seemed to burn under the weight of your voice, your touch. Still, you tried to soothe him, your palm resting against his cheek. “You won’t lose me. Not now, not soon. But if the day comes and I leave before you—”
“No.” His finger pressed gently to your lips, silencing the thought he couldn’t bear to let you speak into existence. He refused to hear it, refused to imagine it.
The silence stretched, humming with urgency, until his voice broke through, raw and unguarded: “Marry me.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a plea, a vow, a reckless prayer torn from his heart.
You arched a brow, a small, teasing smile curving your lips. “I thought Jedi weren’t allowed to marry.”
A smirk tugged at his mouth, the familiar spark of defiance lighting his features.
“And I thought by now you’d noticed: I’m not like the other Jedi.”
Your laugh was gentle, full of love. “You have a point.”
“Then will you?” he pressed, his breath uneven, his entire future balanced on your next word. “Will you take me as your husband?
You pretended to ponder for a heartbeat, letting the suspense dance between you. Then you leaned closer, your smile widening into something radiant. “Only if you’ll take me as your wife.”
Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him in, and the distance between you vanished in a kiss. It was not a timid thing but a claim, a vow, a surrender all at once. Your lips met his with all the hunger of love denied too long, and Anakin’s world ignited. Fireworks, lightning, the hum of the Force itself, it was everything he had ever dreamed of, and more.
In that kiss, there was no war, no Jedi Code, no shadow creeping on the horizon. There was only you. Only him. And the certainty that whatever storms awaited, you would face them together.
✧ ˚ · . ✧ ˚ · . ✧ ˚ · . ✧ ˚ · .
At last, the wedding day had come. To Anakin, it felt like a miracle, like the Force itself had bent time to grant him this moment. And yet, in the days between his desperate proposal and today’s secret ceremony, every hour had crawled, every minute drawn out unbearably, as if the galaxy wanted to test his patience before granting him this happiness. Ten days, but to him, it had felt like ten lifetimes.
The ceremony was simple, almost unbearably so. There were no grand halls filled with family or Jedi, no swelling music echoing through Naboo’s lakeside villas. Just you, him, a quiet officiant arranged by your sisters, sworn to secrecy with a promise as binding as any vow, and the familiar presence of R2-D2 and C-3PO, the only witnesses trusted with this secret. Even Padmé, who had long hoped to stand beside you on this day, was absent, her senatorial duties consuming every waking hour. Besides, none of that mattered. To Anakin, there was no such thing as too small a ceremony, not when the heart of it was you.
You stepped into view, and the galaxy stilled. The great city-world of Coruscant beyond the windows, the hum of speeder traffic, the endless chaos of war, all of it faded as Anakin’s breath caught in his chest. He had faced armies, had stared down death itself, but nothing in his life had undone him so completely as the sight of you walking toward him now.
Your smile was radiant, that same smile that had undone him from the very first moment. The glow in your eyes was brighter than starlight, enough to make every star in the galaxy seem dim by comparison. For a moment, Anakin thought his heart might burst under the force of it, too much joy, too much longing, too much love. He blinked hard, trying to keep the tears from falling, but when his gaze lowered to your bouquet, he broke.
Pinned delicately among the flowers was a small reliquary, a drawing of Shmi Skywalker, sketched in the way a child might remember their mother: gentle, serene, loving. That tiny tribute, that quiet gesture of remembrance, undid him. You had thought of her, included her, made her presence real on this day. To the galaxy, it might seem like nothing, to Anakin, it was everything. His throat tightened, his vision blurred, and he knew, wherever his mother’s spirit rested, she was smiling too.
When you reached him, the officiant’s words were a faint hum in the background, almost lost beneath the pounding of his heartbeat. What mattered were the vows. Not polished speeches written for senators, not Jedi oaths spoken in solemn halls, just your voices, trembling but strong, weaving promises from threads of war and hope, passion and defiance.
You spoke first, your whispers laced with the weight of love born in stolen hours, forged in danger, strengthened by every obstacle that had tried to separate you. You promised him your heart, your laughter, your loyalty, even in the midst of chaos. You promised to hold space for him when the galaxy tried to consume him whole.
And when Anakin spoke, it was not the confident voice of a Jedi padawan, but the raw, unguarded plea of a man who loved too fiercely. He promised you devotion beyond death, that no war, no council, no law would ever come between you. He swore to fight for you as fiercely as he had fought for his people, his friends, his very survival. To protect you. To cherish you. To never let the galaxy, or his own fears, tear you from him.
The officiant’s final words were almost an afterthought, barely reaching Anakin’s ears. Husband and wife. Mr. and Mrs. Skywalker.
Then came the kiss. Your first as a married couple. Your lips met through tears and smile, and in that union was every vow, every dream, every unspoken longing. It was a kiss of endings and beginnings all at once, the end of secrecy between your hearts, the beginning of a new chapter. You were no longer simply Anakin and Y/N. You were one.
Even the droids seemed to fall into reverent silence. C-3PO muttered something about propriety and record-keeping, while R2 let out a soft, almost wistful chirp. Although the rest of the galaxy could have vanished, and neither of you would have noticed.
For in that moment, there was only the two of you, two souls bound in defiance of war, of the Jedi Code, of everything and everyone that might try to stand in your way. Distance would come. Missions would separate you. Your paths would demand sacrifice. But as you pulled back from that kiss, gazing into each other’s tear-bright eyes, you knew, nothing could undo this bond. You had chosen each other. And whatever storms lay ahead, you would face them together.
ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER
BEFORE
CHAPTER FIVE
SYNOPSIS: After losing his hand, Anakin struggles to adapt to the cold precision of a machine where warmth once lived. Haunted by self-loathing, he forgets he's more than the sum of his scars, until you remind him.
WARNING: little bit of angst, the rest is just fluff
WORDS: 1k
A/N: hello my dears, how are you? This chapter is probably the shortest I've written, it doesn't have much plot, I just wanted to explore what I imagine it was like for Anakin to adapt to his robotic hand, cuz whether you like it or not, there's that grief of losing a limb and trying to start over. Anyway, I hope you like it, comments, opinions and suggestions are always welcome ;) dividers by @/enchanthings
Anakin still hadn’t adjusted to the feeling of his robotic hand. It worked, of course, more than worked. It was fast, responsive, and precise. He could catch himself from a fall or stop a speeder bike mid-flight with it. It wielded a lightsaber with lethal elegance, performed all the flourishes and maneuvers he was known for. It never ached, never bruised, never bled.
But it also didn’t feel. Not really.
It was nothing where it should’ve been warm. It didn’t carry the current of the Force the way his natural hand had. It didn’t register the softness of your skin, the shape of your fingers when they threaded through his, or the subtle, loving pressure of your thumb against his knuckles.
And that... affected him more than he ever admitted aloud.
He’d tried, once or twice, to talk about it with Obi-Wan or other Jedi, only to be quickly dismissed with stoic Jedi platitudes. The Force is within you. Attachment clouds the mind. Accept, let go, move forward. But none of it lessened the sting. None of it gave him you back, the feeling of you, through his fingertips.
Anakin hated how small his grief made him feel in the face of a galaxy unraveling: war on every front, thousands dying, the Republic fracturing. How could he complain about a hand, when the galaxy was collapsing?
But the truth was, that pain, that dull ache in his phantom limb, the agonizing, phantom twist of nerves, was real. And you saw it before anyone else did.
The night you were rescued from Geonosis, he thought he’d hidden it well. The pain, the shame. But you’d found him curled into himself in the dark, a quiet whimper giving him away. At that time, there was no prosthetic yet. Just the raw, bandaged stump of what had once been.
You hadn’t looked at him with pity. You hadn’t flinched. In fact, you’d managed to make him laugh by giving Master Windu the middle finger in silent rebellion the moment the Council member left the medbay, after all the Jedi master scolded Anakin for losing his hand, so, it’s kinda worth it. He’d been mortified, but your whispered jokes were like balm over open wounds.
You visited him every day after that, bringing warmth and laughter to a place that had never been designed for either. Jedi Healers frowned at you, you weren’t a Jedi, and you certainly weren’t subtle, but they couldn’t argue with the effect you had on Anakin, how it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders whenever you were around.
You sat with him through every round of physical therapy, your fingers curled around his when he struggled. Even when he sulked, grumbling that squeezing a ball was useless, you stayed. Through it all.
And even after his release, when Obi-Wan returned him to training and your time together grew scarce, you found ways to be near him. You still reached for his mechanical hand like it was no different. You still laced your fingers through his metal ones and brought them to your lips, pressing kisses to cool joints and golden plating. He always tried to play it off, stoic, unbothered, but it stirred something deep inside him every time. You loved all of him, even the parts he could barely face himself.
That morning, the Senate building buzzed with anticipation. Padmé was scheduled to give a welcome speech, open to the public, with new citizens and representatives in attendance. You and Anakin stood just outside her office, where she was deep in a meeting with senators who shared her political ideals. You’d been politely, but firmly, dismissed by Bail as he assured only senators are allowed inside.
Anakin drifted to the tall windows, his gaze focused on the skyline beyond. Coruscant was nothing like Naboo. The golden haze of sunrise struggled to pierce through the smog, the silhouettes of high-rises stretching like sentinels above the chaos of the Republic's capital. Beautiful, in its own way. But colder, harder.
And yet… no sunrise could compare to you.
You stood in that light, radiant and still, the glow wrapping around your features like a halo. The soft warmth of the sun painted your skin, your cheeks tinged with a blush that seemed half light, half smile.
“What?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through his thoughts. Your eyes met his, eyes he could never stop drowning in, and Anakin felt the breath catch in his throat.
“Nothing,” he murmured. “I’m just looking at you.”
He reached out, his mechanical hand brushing your cheek with surprising gentleness. But then, a lock of your hair caught in the seam of the plating. His breath stilled, panic flickering across his face. He froze, unsure, too afraid to pull, too ashamed to move.
“I’m sorry, this thing—” he stammered, cheeks flushing.
“It’s okay, Ani,” you murmured, brushing the strand free yourself. Your smile never wavered as you keep your voice calm, loving and tender.
He looked away, the shame creeping back into his expression. “I hate this,” he muttered, voice low. “It’s not just in the way. It’s me. It’s part of me now. And it’s not… right.”
Gently, you took his mechanical hand in both of yours. You lifted it, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to the metal knuckles, letting your lips linger there for a moment longer.
“Why do you still love me,” Anakin whispered, his voice fraying at the edges, “even though I’m not whole anymore?”
“Anakin,” you said his name with quiet strength, guiding his gaze back to yours. Your hand rested flat against his chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palm. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He blinked, caught in the intensity of your eyes.
“I love you,” you continued, voice like sweet honey, “for what’s here. For who you are, not what your hand looks like.”
And then, with a teasing little grin, you added, “And for the record… your mechanical hand kind of makes you hotter.”
That earned a breathy laugh from him, the blush on his cheeks deepening as the tips of his ears turned red. You saw it, the way his soul softened in that moment, the way the weight of doubt slipped off his shoulders, just for a little while.
And in your arms, metal and all, he finally allowed himself to believe that maybe he really could be loved like this.
ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER - PART 4
BEFORE
CHAPTER FOUR
SYNOPSIS: Anakin wakes to more than just the morning light, he must now face the weight of last night with you and the quiet turmoil stirring in his heart.
WARNING: a little anguish.
WORDS: 2.8k
A/N: Hello my dears, it took me a long time, but I'm finally back. College kept me pretty busy, the end of semester and internships, ugh, it was awesome but crazy, and I even started a new job. But anyway, I hope the wait was worth it. Sorry for the grammatical errors, I'm finishing it on my lunch break😭😘 Feel free to comment what you think, suggestions and criticisms are also welcome, good reading ;) dividers by @/enchanthings
High on a hill, you called
Two lovers regret their time
Once in a blue moon, I forget you
And once in your life, you'll be mine
The stars shimmered in the night sky over Tatooine, streaks of purple and pink stretching across the horizon. Unlike Naboo’s velvet darkness dotted with twinkling stars, Tatooine’s night was vast and sharp, painted in hues of dusk that never quite faded into black. The twin suns had long set, leaving behind a chill that gnawed at your skin, nothing like the warm breeze of your home. The desert was bone-deep cold, the kind of cold that made you instinctively burrow closer into Anakin’s chest for warmth.
He held you without a word, his thoughts still tangled in grief and guilt, his mother’s loss hanging heavy in the air around you. So you offered him your silence, your stillness, your steady heartbeat, letting him find peace in your presence. Together, you curled up on the roof of the Lars’ homestead, wrapped in one of Shmi’s handmade blankets, its soft fibers still holding the warmth of a woman who’d loved fiercely, and lost everything.
The quiet stretched between you, filled only by the hiss of sand shifting across stone and the soft whistle of wind. Anakin’s hand found yours beneath the blanket, his thumb tracing the delicate lines of your palm in slow, calming circles. You let him, if it helped ease even a fraction of the weight he carried, you would have let him trace your entire soul.
“I wouldn’t have guessed a planet that burns like fire during the day could freeze like this at night,” you murmured, your voice muffled by the blanket.
Anakin’s arm tightened around you, tugging the fabric up to your chin. “It’s just desert physics, baby,” he replied softly, the tease in his tone making your heart flutter. There he was, your Anakin, returning to you piece by piece.
“I’ve never been in a desert before,” you pouted playfully, and he chuckled, turning to watch the sand whirl into tiny storms below.
“You’re not missing much,” he muttered. “I don’t like sand. It’s coarse, rough, irritating… and it gets everywhere.” His voice faded, like the memory of something bitter lingering on his tongue. His gaze was fixed far away, anchored in the past.
You glanced at him, watching the flicker of emotion in his eyes. His jaw was clenched, like he was biting down on something too painful to speak. Then, so softly you almost missed it, he added, “It’s nothing like Naboo. Everything there is soft… smooth.”
As if drawn by gravity, his hand slipped to your bare shoulder, his thumb moved with the kind of reverence that broke your breath. That simple touch carried more intimacy than any words ever could, it was quiet devotion, unspoken longing. It was Anakin, stripped of his titles and trauma, being held steady by your presence.
“We can go back,” you whispered. “Swim, dive, explore the forest around the palace… just the two of us.”
He turned his head to look at you, and in his smile was something sad, something tender. A look that said he wanted to believe you, to live inside that hope, but didn’t dare.
“I’m a Jedi,” he said quietly, as though reciting a mantra he no longer believed. “We’re not allowed to follow desire.”
You tilted your head. “But do Jedi stop dreaming?”
He didn’t answer. So you took his silence and filled it with a dream of your own. “Let’s pretend... just for tonigh, let me dream about you.”
He watched you lie back on the blanket, your eyes fluttering closed, and he followed, almost instinctively, leaning beside you until his shoulder brushed yours.
“Close your eyes,” you whispered. “Picture the warmth of the sun on your face, the tickle of grass on your cheek when we roll down the hills… Imagine the scent of wildflowers, butterflies circling us, and the sound of laughter carried on the wind. Imagine our hearts finding the same rhythm, soft, steady, completely at peace.”
And Anakin, for the first time in too long, allowed himself to imagine a life not ruled by fear, duty, or war. In the canvas of your words, he painted a world where you were his and he was yours. He imagined your arms around him, the feel of your body curled into his, your lips brushing his in a kiss that rewrote the stars. He imagined a galaxy where he could stay.
And when sleep came, it found him smiling, with you in his arms, his head against yours, Anakin finally dreamed of something beautiful.
┊ ┊⋆ ┊ .
Anakin stood at the ship’s console, fingers moving with practiced precision as he prepared for your return to Naboo. But just as the engines hummed to life, the holoprojector blinked, casting Obi-Wan’s flickering image into the air. His voice was strained, urgent, he had been captured by the Separatists on Geonosis.
Anakin froze, his mind reeling. The logical course of action was clear: transmit the coordinates to the Jedi Council and wait. But it was Obi-Wan, his master, his brother, his anchor. Waiting wasn’t an option. Reckless and desperate, he turned to Senator Amidala and begged for permission to go after him. And of course, Padmé, with the good soul that she was, gave permission to go on this mission.
The ship touched down in the jagged shadow of a crater carved into the red cliffs of Geonosis, tucked away from enemy eyes. Anakin powered down the engines and activated the locator beacon for the Jedi, in case the worst happened and they needed a way out. Tension hung thick in the air as he turned to where you and Padmé stood at the entrance, ready to disembark, but before you could step forward, Anakin’s arm shot out in front of you, blocking your path.
“Excuse me?” you blinked, arching an eyebrow.
“You should stay here,” he said, his voice softer than you expected, his blue eyes were pleading. “It’s dangerous out there.”
You crossed your arms, unwavering. “Anakin, if you lock me in here, I’ll find a way to get out. So how about we just go together, take care of all this mess, and deal with the arguing later?”
The corner of his mouth tugged upward despite himself. You were stubborn, beautifully, exasperatingly stubborn. With a defeated sigh, he lowered his arm.
“Stay close to me, okay?” he murmured, his hand instinctively resting on your back as you stepped into the dry, suffocating heat of the canyon.
The three of you made your way toward the towering arena in the distance, but your mission didn’t last long. The Separatists were already waiting, you didn’t even have time to shout a warning before the Geonosians descended like insects, separating and capturing you. Padmé, was a senator, the important figure, so she was carted off alone, while you and Anakin found yourselves bound in the back of a second transport, headed for the arena.
You sat together, wrists cuffed, the vibration of the carriage rattling your bones. Your heart hammered with fear, but more than anything, with regret.
“I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice trembling. “I shouldn’t have insisted on coming. If I had stayed”
“Stop,” Anakin interrupted gently, lifting his chained hands to brush your chin, turning your gaze to him. “This was going to happen anyway. We were doomed the moment we came without a plan.”
He paused, his eyes softening. “But if I’m going to die today… then I want the last thing I see to be your pretty face.”
A breath hitched in your throat.
“It’s not over,” you whispered fiercely, blinking back the sting of tears. “But if this is where it ends, then let’s not waste another second. Let’s stop hiding. Let’s do what we’re always so afraid to do.”
You inhaled sharply, willing your courage not to fail you. “I love you, Anakin. I know I shouldn’t. I know this all happened so fast. And I know your heart belongs to my sister, but…” your voice cracked, “I couldn’t die without telling you the truth.”
Anakin froze, your words hit him like a starfighter blast to the chest, his heart pounded, his mind raced, a thousand thoughts crashing at once. But all he could see was you. You, with tears in your eyes and love in your voice.
“What are you talking about?” he asked, stunned. “Padmé? What does she?”
You gave him a wounded look, lips trembling. “I saw you two kiss. You don’t have to lie to protect me. I can take it.”
And then, he laughed. Not mockingly, but with a rush of relief that made your cheeks flush with confusion.
“I’m sorry,” he said quickly, eyes wide with apology. “It’s just, Padmé kissed me, yes. But it meant nothing. I loved her once, maybe, I thought I did. But when she kissed me, all I could think about was you. Wishing it was your lips. Your hands. Your heart.”
Your heart jump in your chest.
“I shouldn’t have let it happen,” he continued, voice low, urgent, “but that kiss made everything clear. I don’t love her, not like that. She’s a friend, maybe always will be. But you… You’ve captured me, completely. My thoughts, my heart… they’re already yours.”
His words wrapped around you like a forcefield, shielding you from the chaos beyond the carriage.
“If you want me,” he whispered, “say the word. I’ll be yours, now, always, till forever falls apart. Because even if I tried, I couldn't stop loving you. My heart only beats for you.”
Tears slipped silently down your cheeks, but they were tears of wonder, of disbelief, of joy. “I love you too,” you whispered.
The air between you shimmered with tension and yearning, and when he leaned in, you met him halfway. The kiss wasn’t rushed, it was reverent. The soft press of his lips against yours sent a thrill through your soul, as if the galaxy had paused for your moment.
His touch was shaky, tender, the warmth of his mouth melting into yours, and for a moment, just one, you forgot about the arena, the war, the cuffs. There was only the gravity of his love pulling you in, grounding you, anchoring you to him.
The chains clinked as he cupped your cheek with both hands, desperate to touch you, even if only a little. Your fingers curled around his sleeves, holding him close. When you finally broke apart, your foreheads touched, eyes half-lidded with quiet awe. The carriage jolted. The arena was near.
“You make me want to survive this,” Anakin whispered, his voice shaking with quiet resolve. “Just to have one more kiss.”
You smiled, wiping your tears. “Then let’s survive it.”
And as the doors began to open, revealing the roar of the arena beyond, you didn’t let go. Not yet, not until the last second. Because in this cruel, war-torn galaxy, love like yours was rare and worth fighting for.
*''
The image of Obi-Wan, shackled with his arms bound high above his head to one of the arena’s towering rock pillars, was more than unsettling, it was devastating. You’d known what to expect, but seeing him like that, stripped of his defenses, battle-worn and surrounded, struck a cruel chord against everything you believed about Jedi invincibility. The stories, the legends… none had prepared you for this.
“What are you doing here?” Obi-Wan demanded, eyebrows furrowed as Anakin was dragged forward, bound in the same manner beside him.
“We came to rescue you, Master,” Anakin muttered, a mix of frustration and guilt simmering in his voice as he futilely pulled against his restraints. The metal bit cruelly into his skin, his wrists already red from the friction.
Obi-Wan arched a brow, ginger hair falling into his eyes. “And you're doing a magnificent job.”
“Don’t be like that, Master” Anakin started, but stopped himself when Obi-Wan flicked his gaze toward Padmé, who had already freed herself and was expertly scaling the pillar with agility that defied her senatorial grace.
“Clips,” you breathed with sudden realization. “Oh, sis, you’re a genius.”
You mimicked Padmé’s cleverness, yanking one of the decorative clips from your hair and working quickly at the cuffs. And then everything exploded into motion.
Anakin and Obi-Wan recovered their lightsabers with near-simultaneous precision, slicing through their bindings and leaping into action. The beasts released into the arena roared as the Jedi danced around them with graceful brutality, their lightsabers painting arcs of brilliant color across the dusty battlefield. You and Padmé seized stolen blasters from fallen Geonosians and fired with deadly precision.
Anakin was radiant in the chaos, his strength, his resolve, the way he moved like a storm unleashed. When he leapt onto the back of a wild reek, his robes flaring and lightsaber flashing, your heart caught in your throat. He reached down for you, and without hesitation, you took his hand.
You slid up behind him, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist, your cheek brushing the rough fabric of his tunic as the creature charged. You held on as he steered the beast with reckless control, and while one hand gripped his waist, your other was steady, firing blasts into the swarm of droids and Geonosians alike. The two of you moved like one, intuitive, seamless, bound by something stronger than adrenaline.
But the battle escalated beyond anything you could control.
Separatist droids multiplied like shadows, swarming the arena floor, victory seemed out of reach. Then, piercing the haze of dust and chaos, the Republic gunships descended from the sky like avenging angels, their shining hulls splitting through the atmosphere. White-armored clones poured from them, their numbers turning the tide.
And yet… Anakin was already gone.
You turned in time to see him vault from the beast and sprint across the arena toward Count Dooku’s escape route, his lightsaber blazing.
“ANAKIN!” you screamed, panic tearing from your chest. Obi-Wan shouted after him too, voice sharp with warning, but Anakin was already gone, driven by something stronger than reason.
Fueled by grief and vengeance, Anakin couldn’t hear anything over the roar in his blood. Dooku wasn’t just the enemy, he was the architect of everything. The war. The attacks. The death of Shmi Skywalker. All of it.
If Anakin could end him here, now, it would all mean something.
He charged, raw and untamed, reckless in his fury, and Dooku struck. The red saber carved through the air with brutal elegance, slicing clean through Anakin’s arm. Time stopped.
His scream tore through the cavernous arena, a sound so primal it didn’t sound human. You were already running.
By the time he collapsed, you were on your knees beside him, arms outstretched to catch what his strength could no longer carry. His weight sagged into your embrace, his head falling against your chest, and you cradled him as though the Force itself had shattered inside you.
“Ani,” you choked, cupping his face, brushing sweat-dampened curls away. His eyes were wild with pain, his breath ragged. Blood soaked his robes, and his trembling body spasmed as the agony surged through him.
“It’s okay, Ani. I’ve got you,” you whispered, voice cracking, pressing your lips to his temple, as if you could anchor him to this world. “Stay with me. Just stay with me.”
He groaned, unintelligible, but your arms never let go. Your touch was the only thing grounding him as his soul screamed in rage and anguish. Because it wasn’t just his hand, it was everything. The pain of failure, the helplessness of loss, the brutal truth that no amount of power had saved the one person who meant the most to him.
Around you, the battle continued to roar. You barely noticed Master Yoda’s arrival, nor the way he ignited his saber and faced Dooku. Your entire universe was wrapped around the boy in your arms, and his pain became your own.
Clones moved in quickly, guiding him to a stretcher. You refused to let go, even as Jedi frowned at you with questioning glances, didn't understanding why Padmé’s sister was overly concerned for the Padawan, you clung to him, your fingers entwined with his remaining hand, your voice a steady whisper of comfort in his ear.
Onboard the cruiser, in the medbay, you knelt at his bedside as droids worked to stabilize him. His face was pale, drawn tight with exhaustion and loss. You clutched his good hand to your heart.
"Please," you whispered into the stillness, your voice cracking with a desperation that eclipsed your pride, you begged for anything higher to save him, hurried and whiny prayers escaping your lips without stopping. "Please don’t take him from me."
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not the war. Not the Jedi. Not even the stars scattered beyond the cruiser’s viewport.
Because your heart belonged to the boy with pain in his soul and fire in his eyes, and you would walk through hell to keep him safe.
ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER
BEFORE
CHAPTER THREE
SYNOPSIS: As Anakin waits for you under the setting sun, a misunderstanding shatters the moment and sets a storm in motion.
WARNING: angst, character death
WORDS: 3.6K
A/N: hi, my loves, how are you? as always, college is killing me, even with too much work drowning me, i couldn't help but write another chapter for this fic that i love💖, and that made me feel so much like i belong to the fandom. anyway, enjoy reading, comments, likes, suggestions are welcome, and if you want to ask for a request, don't be shy. 🥰💖 dividers by @/enchanthings
With each passing day, the feelings between you and Anakin seemed to bloom, quietly and inevitably. It began with small things, fleeting comments, shared glances, the way your laughter lingered after you'd gone. Like seeds scattered in fertile soil, these moments were subtle, almost unnoticeable at first. But every time you spoke, every time you whisked him away on one of your whimsical adventures, where duty didn’t hang like a shadow over his shoulder, where he could breathe, laugh, live without restraint, those seeds were watered, nurtured, fed by freedom and connection.
Until suddenly, it was impossible not to notice the garden growing between you. Feelings had taken root. Blossoms unfolded, vibrant and uncontainable.
To Anakin, you were sunlight. A bright, golden warmth that cut through the clouds of his world. No matter how heavy his heart felt, crushed beneath the weight of the Jedi Order’s expectations, the relentless pressure of being the Chosen One, the swirl of others' hopes or the imagined weight of them, your presence had a way of making it all fade. You were a reason to feel human again. To be someone who deserved joy. Who deserved to be loved, especially by someone like you.
That was why he stood now on the deck of the lake house, arms folded on the stone railing, staring out across the still, glassy expanse of water. The lake shimmered with the last golden light of afternoon, wrapped in the lush emerald cradle of Naboo’s forests. The soft hush of breeze moved through trees and flowers, everything calm and perfect, the kind of beauty that demanded reverence.
It had been here, just hours earlier, where he’d let himself laugh freely, falling into the water with you, letting go of everything. He had felt light. Real. But now, with the words he needed caught in the back of his throat, nerves pressing against his chest like armor he couldn’t shed, Anakin was once again tangled in doubt. He rehearsed what he wanted to say over and over, tripping through his thoughts, feeling ridiculous, like a boy pretending to be a man. Which, in truth, was how he often felt when it came to you.
He was so lost in it, in his overthinking and hesitation, that he didn’t even hear the footsteps at first. Only when the soft sound of silk brushing over stone met his ears did he stir slightly.
"I always liked to stay here and watch the way the lake kisses the sun when it sets," Padmé’s voice came gently, melodic and wistful as she stepped beside him. She didn’t look at him right away, only out at the horizon, her eyes tracing the edge where water met light. "I like to think of them as two hopeless lovers — always reaching for one another, knowing they can never really stay, but still stealing what time they can, again and again."
Her words cut through the moment like the softest kind of blade. Anakin blinked, finally turning to her. And for a second, he forgot how to breathe.
“It’s, uhm... an interesting thought,” Anakin replied hesitantly, his fingers drifting to the back of his neck in a familiar gesture of nervousness. His blue eyes, always so expressive, couldn’t help but flick toward the woman standing beside him.
How many nights had he dreamed of her? How many times had he whispered to the stars, asking the universe to bring her back to him? To see his angel again, to have her look at him like this? And now here she was, golden in the sunset light. But the tangle of emotions inside him, he couldn’t even begin to unravel it. It was too much.
“Have you ever imagined yourself doing something else?” Padmé asked softly, her voice carrying that soothing cadence that always made people feel safe. Her brown eyes met his with warmth, inviting him to share a part of himself. “I mean… if you weren’t a Jedi, what would you be?”
The question caught Anakin off guard. He said nothing. He had never let himself think about the answer, maybe because the truth was too painful. If the Jedi hadn’t taken him in… if he hadn’t been declared the Chosen One… then what? He would probably still be a slave, slowly wasting away in Watto’s shop, dying from the wear of poverty or mistreatment.
Maybe, if luck had shone on him, he could’ve bought his freedom. Maybe he and his mother would’ve managed to own a tiny piece of land, raise what livestock the desert allowed. Maybe, just maybe, he would have had something that was truly his.
Padmé mistook his silence for hesitation and filled it with her own dreams. “I think I’d choose a life in the countryside,” she said gently. “Waking up to the sound of birds, watching the sun rise and set… those little things that feel ordinary, but I never get to enjoy.”
She turned to face him fully, her brown eyes softening as they met his. A faint smile curved her lips. She rose on her toes, and before he could say a word, she whispered, “Falling in love… that would be nice,” and pressed her lips tenderly to his.
Anakin froze. His mind blanked. Padmé was kissing him. And he was awake. For ten years, he had built this moment in his head, sculpted it from longing and devotion, playing it out in silent fantasies, believing that if it ever came true, it would be the peak of his happiness. The woman he had idealized since boyhood was here, choosing him.
He should’ve felt fireworks, but he didn’t. There was a part of him that swelled with pride, that the unattainable angel would lower herself to kiss him, to return his feelings. And yet, it didn’t feel like triumph. The kiss was soft, sure. Her touch was real. But it didn’t bring warmth or light. It brought… nothing. No breathless rush. No spark of euphoria. No desperate need to fall deeper. Just pressure. A silence where he had expected music. It hit him like a wave: this wasn’t the love he was meant for.
Maybe, if you hadn’t come into his life, he would’ve clung to this moment, convinced himself that this was everything he ever wanted. But you had. You, with your wild laugh, your fearless spirit, the way you saw him not as a Jedi, not as a legend in the making, but as Anakin. Just Anakin.
You had carved your name into his heart so effortlessly that now, standing here with Padmé, he realized there was no more space for romantic illusions. He had outgrown that version of love, bright and distant and untouchable.
Padmé would always be important. His first love. A symbol of innocence and hope. A friend, perhaps. A memory. But what he felt now… it wasn’t love. Not the kind that grew roots. Not the kind that made him feel alive. It was time he stopped chasing ghosts and started following the sun.
However, the universe seemed to be playing a cruel trick on you. Because just as Anakin was having a revelation, finally understanding that he was deeply, unmistakably in love with you, you were walking toward the lake, heart light with anticipation… only to witness the boy you loved pressing his lips to your sister’s.
At first, your mind refused to process it. It didn’t make sense. Why would Anakin invite you to meet him if he was going to kiss Padmé? He wouldn’t be so heartless… would he? He wouldn’t ask you to talk, to come see him at the lake, just to rub his happiness in your face.
At least, that’s what you had believed, but your belief shattered in the silence between blinks. Your vision blurred, your throat tightening painfully. Tears welled and spilled freely down your cheeks as your heart cracked open in quiet, stunned betrayal. You didn’t wait for explanations. You couldn’t. You turned away, not just from the lake, but from Anakin, from Padmé, from the fragile hope that something real might bloom between you and the Jedi boy with the sky in his eyes.
Once again, you were swallowed by your sister’s shadow. No matter how far you tried to run, it always managed to find you.
Back by the lake, Padmé and Anakin stood in stillness, their kiss already fading into discomfort. They said nothing at first, letting the tension stretch between them like a pulled thread about to snap. Neither knew what to make of it.
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Padmé said finally, her voice low and uncertain. She kept her eyes on her hands, twisting her fingers in the fabric of her dress.
“No,” Anakin agreed, just as softly. “I should’ve stopped you.”
There was no anger in his tone, only clarity. The realization settled over him like the cooling dusk air: he had spent so many years chasing an idea. But now, in the presence of the real thing, he understood that his heart had already moved on. It belonged to someone else.
Padmé studied him briefly, reading the truth in his face. Then, smoothing the folds of her dress, she said, “Well… I’ll be in my office. When you’re done, whatever it is you’re doing.”
She turned and walked away.
Anakin remained where he was, staring out at the shimmering surface of the lake, the wind moving gently through the trees, the sunset painting the world in gold and rose. It was beautiful, peaceful in a way he rarely felt. A moment meant to be shared. And you… you would have loved it, but you didn’t come.
He checked the chrono on his wrist again. Then again. He waited long past the time you had agreed on, unwilling to give up in case you were just running late. But when the sun disappeared completely and the first sliver of the moon peeked through the drifting clouds, he finally sighed, defeated.
You weren’t coming. He walked back to the palace in silence, returning to his assigned role as Jedi protector. But his mind wasn’t on his duty. He couldn’t understand it. You had seemed so connected the day before, so in tune, like your hearts beat in the same rhythm. Had he misread everything? Had he imagined the warmth in your eyes, the way your hand lingered just a little longer in his?
Maybe he was wrong.
Maybe you only saw him as a friend.
Maybe this was exactly why Jedi were told not to form attachments, because now, the absence of your smile was enough to plunge him into confusion, self-doubt, and longing. You were his light, and without you… his world dimmed into shadows.
｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ
Later that night, Anakin jolted awake, breath ragged and skin slick with sweat. His forehead, hair, and shirt were damp, clinging to him like the weight of the dream that had just gripped him. Another vision. Another tormenting flicker of his mother. Shmi.
Though the Jedi had taken him away from her years ago, she never truly left him. Through the Force, she was always there, a comforting presence in quieter moments, a piercing ache in the painful ones. Tonight, her presence was agony. He hadn’t seen her clearly, but he had heard her. The screams. The sobs. Her voice calling his name, pleading for him to find her, to save her from something unspeakable. The pain in her voice made his stomach twist. He could feel it in his bones, the way you feel the pull of a planet you can’t quite reach.
His heart thundered in his chest, each beat harder than the last. He tried to slow his breathing, to will himself calm, but the Force pulsed with too much intensity. He couldn’t stay in bed, not after that. He knew the teachings, attachment clouded judgment. Obi-Wan had tried to guide him to let go. But how could he?
He felt too much. He always had.
Barefoot and tense, Anakin padded through the dim hallway toward the lake house’s sitting room, dragging his fingers through his damp curls. He moved silently, careful not to wake Padmé or her family. But as he passed the archway near the kitchen, a soft glow caught his eye.
The stove light was on.
You stood near it, wrapped in a long cardigan, tending to a green kettle gently hissing with steam. The sharp, earthy scent of herbs floated through the air, calming in contrast to the storm churning inside him. You didn’t speak or turn your head, but you must have sensed him there. With quiet care, you poured the tea into two mugs and added a spoonful of honey to each.
Without a word, you crossed the room and offered him one. Anakin was still frozen near the threshold, shoulders tense, his mind clearly somewhere far away, somewhere painful. You didn’t press him. You simply placed the mug into his hand and gently guided him to the couch, settling beside him in silence.
The mug was warm in his hands, grounding. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed that. Two steaming cups. One quiet night. And the kind of comfort that didn’t need words to be felt.
“Did you lose sleep?” he asked quietly.
You didn’t answer right away. Your eyes stayed fixed on the wall across from you, tracing the edges of the old decorations that had lined it since your childhood. You knew every detail by heart, the soft cracks in the paint, the faded color of the wooden trim, but suddenly, it was the only thing you could look at.
You shook your head silently.
The air between you grew still, stretched thin by the weight of unspoken thoughts. Anakin could feel it, you wanted to say something, but the words clung stubbornly to your throat. He understood too well. He was sitting with his own silence, his own turmoil barely caged beneath the surface. He wanted to speak, to pour out everything, to tell you how much your presence soothed him, but he didn’t want to burden you. He couldn’t bear the idea of you stepping away from him too.
“What happened?” you asked, your voice soft, barely above a whisper. Your smaller hand reached for his, resting gently over his trembling knuckles. Your thumb brushed slow, steady circles over his skin.
He opened his mouth, instinctively ready to say nothing, to deny everything, but you stopped him with a single look. Gentle. Patient. Certain. “What’s in your heart?” you murmured.
And just like that, the dam cracked. His carefully maintained facade, the Jedi calm he tried so hard to wear, it all crumbled. He couldn’t hold it anymore. The fear, the confusion, the guilt, they poured out in fragmented sentences.
He told you about his dreams. The ones that kept clawing at him night after night, visions of his mother calling for help, her voice raw and pleading. He described how he could see her crumpling into his arms, fragile and slipping away, yet somehow still hoping he would find her. Still trusting in him, even in her final moments.
“Where is she?” you asked quietly.
Anakin blinked at you, caught off guard. That wasn’t the question he expected. He thought you’d reassure him, or worse, tell him it was just a dream. But you didn’t.
“Can you tell from the dream?” you pressed gently. “Where is she?”
“…Tatooine,” he murmured at last. His voice sounded far away. His eyes were heavier than usual, carrying a sadness as deep as the desert sands that raised him.
You nodded once, firmly. “So, what are you waiting for?”
Anakin looked at you, stunned. You took the mug from his hands with calm precision and stood, your tone steady but kind.
“Go prepare the ship,” you said. “I’ll talk to Padmé. If she says she wants to go to Tatooine…” You offered him a soft smile, the kind that made something inside him ache in the best way. “Well, your duty is to follow her, isn’t it?”
For a second, he just stared at you, wondering how you could see him so clearly. And then, without another word, he stood. Because for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel lost, he felt seen. And that changed everything.
When you met again, Anakin already had everything prepared, the hyperspace coordinates programmed, the ship ready for takeoff. All he needed was the signal. Padmé stepped inside the cockpit with you, a solemn look in her eyes as she gave a small nod. That was all the permission he needed.
Time blurred after that.
In what felt like the blink of an eye, the ship emerged from hyperspace and touched down on the coarse, sunbaked surface of Tatooine. The desert wind howled as you made your way to the Lars homestead, following the thin thread of hope that maybe, just maybe, Anakin's mother was still waiting for him.
But reality was cruel.
Shmi Skywalker was no longer with Watto. She’d been sold, married, then taken. Lars and his son Owen tried to rescue her, but failed. Cliegg paid the price with the loss of his mobility, now confined to a wheelchair. The hopelessness in their voices was heartbreaking.
Anakin barely spoke. The moment he confirmed what had happened, he left. No hesitation. He made sure you and Padmé were safe, then vanished into the desert alone, swallowed by the sands that raised him.
While your sister walked with Beru, listening to the soft-spoken girl talk about the farm, about Shmi, and the helplessness that hung over the family, you stayed behind, waiting, worrying.
When Anakin finally returned, night had already fallen. The twin suns of Tatooine were gone, leaving behind a dusky, starless sky. He stepped off the speeder, a worn cloth bundle cradled in his arms. Your breath caught.
You didn’t need anyone to tell you what it was.
Owen and Cliegg rushed to meet him, their faces crumpling with shared grief. The family moved quickly to prepare a modest burial site in the backyard, an act of love and finality for the woman who had bound them all in different ways.
You stood beside Anakin as he laid his mother to rest.
He didn’t speak, but the anguish in his eyes said everything. His jaw was clenched tight, his shoulders tense as stone. You could feel the storm inside him: grief turning to guilt, guilt festering into rage. He blamed himself for not coming sooner. He blamed the Jedi for not trusting his instincts. He blamed the Sand People. He blamed Watto. He blamed the Force itself.
And even in her last breath, Shmi had told him she loved him. That she was proud.
That broke him more than anything else.
How could she be proud? He couldn’t save her. If he couldn’t protect his own mother, what kind of Jedi was he supposed to be?
The burial ended with no words, just silence and dust. And then, he vanished again.
While everyone else lingered, mourning in quiet pockets of the yard, you noticed Anakin was gone. Slipping away unnoticed, like he wanted to be alone with the weight he carried. You followed him.
Inside the Lars home, tucked into a small back room carved into the sand-colored walls, you found him. He stood at a table, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were pale. His head was bowed, shoulders stiff with grief and fury.
The air around him buzzed with tension. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of grief pressing in from every direction. You didn’t speak, not yet. You just stood in the doorway, your presence steady, waiting for him to let you in.
You approached him slowly, each step soft and careful. You didn’t want to startle him. You didn’t want to be shut out. But more than anything, you wanted to respect his silence, to honor whatever storm was building behind those clenched fists and shadowed eyes.
You stopped beside him, close but not touching. Your body still, open. Waiting. Gently, you tilted your head, trying to meet his gaze.
He didn’t look away. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with grief, and beneath the redness, a fire raged, flickering with guilt, with fury, with something darker that didn’t yet have a name.
“Anakin,” you murmured, his name slipping from your lips like a balm, like a prayer. Your smile was soft, comforting, though your heart ached just looking at him.
His voice came next, hoarse, hollow. “I killed them all.”
Your brow knit in confusion.
“Not just the men…” he choked, his throat raw from holding it in for too long. “But the women. And the children too.”
The words hit like cold wind. The devastation in his tone was palpable, he spoke not with pride, not with vengeance, but with pain. The weight of what he had done was crushing him.
“Oh, Anakin…” you whispered, arms opening instinctively, offering him a place to fall apart.
And he did. He sank to his knees before you, burying his face in your stomach as though trying to hide from the world, and from himself. His arms wrapped around your waist, clinging tightly, desperately, as thick, hot tears rolled down his cheeks.
He tried to speak again, but no words came. Just a broken sob. You held him, fingers slipping into his sandy blond hair, brushing gently as you murmured soft breaths into the air. You said nothing more, just existed with him at that moment. Steady. Solid. Safe.
Your touch grounded him. Your presence brought him back from the edge. It anchored him to the now, to something real. To someone who saw him not as a Jedi, or a weapon, or a failure, but as a man in pain.
In that moment, as his arms clung tighter around your waist and his tears soaked your clothes, Anakin made a promise. He would never let someone he loved die again. He didn’t know how, only that he would fight, tooth and bone, fate and galaxy, to keep you alive and beside him. Until his very last breath.
ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER
NEXT
CHAPTER TWO
SYNOPSIS: Anakin wakes to more than just the morning light: he must now face the weight of last night with you and the quiet turmoil stirring in his heart.
WARNING: none, just fluffy
WORDS: 3.5K
A/N: Hello my dears, I can't even thank you enough for all the love this fic has received. Honestly, I wasn't expecting it, so it was a pleasant surprise. I don't know if you'll like the second chapter as much, but now I'm full of ideas, I thought of five chapters more or less. Feel free to comment what you think, suggestions and criticisms are also welcome, good reading ;) dividers by @/enchanthings
The sun crept over the Naboo horizon, golden light spilling across the field in slow, deliberate waves. It touched Anakin’s face first — a gentle warmth that coaxed his lashes into a twitch, his brow furrowing as he stirred. A tickling sensation brushed the bridge of his nose, soft as a whisper. He mumbled incoherently and turned his face away.
But then it came again, a teasing flutter, and this time, a laugh followed. His eyes blinked open, still hazy from sleep, only to find you kneeling beside him, holding a delicate flower to his cheek with an expression far too innocent to be trusted.
You grinned when you met his gaze. "Good morning," you murmured sweetly, the flower dancing between your fingers. The chaos in your curls and the faint imprint of sleep still on your features made you look all the more ethereal.
Anakin smiled back, drowsy and charmed. “Good morning,” he replied, voice rough with sleep. He rubbed at the back of his neck, feeling the dull ache from a night spent lying on uneven ground. It wasn’t exactly the best sleep of his life—but stars, it was worth it. Having you curled against him, your heartbeat lulling him to sleep on his chest, made everything else feel like it didn’t matter.
Until it did. His eyes widened as the realization returned like a jolt to his spine.
“Force, we need to get back,” he muttered, suddenly rushing to his feet. “Padmé. I’m supposed to be guarding her. I’m supposed to be protecting her, not” He stopped himself, guilt threading into his voice, heat rising in his cheeks. He had let his feelings cloud his judgment, again.
“It’s okay,” you said gently, reaching for his hand. “I know a shortcut.”
You took the hand he offered, your smaller fingers enveloped easily in his. His thumb instinctively traced along your knuckles, a quiet gesture of affection that lingered even as you both dashed toward the speeder.
Anakin had barely settled onto the seat when your foot hit the accelerator, the vehicle surging forward with a suddenness that made his heart stutter. You weaved through the trees with an ease that was as daring as it was reckless. He couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or terrified.
He leaned closer than necessary, under the guise of balancing, but in reality, it was just to feel the way your shoulder pressed into his chest with each sharp turn. The adrenaline sang through him, but it was nothing compared to the way your presence tugged at something buried deep inside.
By the time you skidded to a stop outside the lake house, both of you were breathless, trying to straighten your clothes, picking flowers and grass from your hair. It was a lost cause, you still looked like you’d rolled through a meadow together. Which… wasn’t far from the truth.
Padmé was already waiting, her expression unreadable, though Captain Typho’s disapproval was written clearly across his face as he stood beside her, arms crossed, jaw set tight. Anakin’s stomach dropped. He knew that look. The captain didn’t take lightly to negligence, especially when it came to the safety of the senator. And he was right to be upset. Anakin had let his heart lead him astray.
He stood taller, swallowing hard. The shame hit fast, not because of what happened, but because of how easy it had been to forget everything else when he was with you. Jedi discipline felt like an old, distant promise compared to how he felt in your orbit.
“What was your mission, Skywalker?” Captain Typho’s voice cut through the morning air like a blade, his arms crossed and jaw locked tight. His tone left no room for misunderstanding.
Anakin’s shoulders slumped, the heat of embarrassment prickling up the back of his neck. “To guard Senator Amidala’s room,” he muttered, jaw tight.
“And why weren’t you doing that?” Typho snapped, voice rising. “What could possibly be more important than the duties assigned to you? Do you think you’re above the mission? Should I call the Jedi Council and ask for someone more committed?”
Anakin opened his mouth, shame and panic warring in his chest but before he could speak, you stepped in. You moved to stand in front of him, your body slipping between the captain’s sharp words and the padawan’s stiff frame.
“It was my fault,” you said, raising your chin despite the quiver in your voice. “I, I snuck out last night. I just needed to get away for a while and ended up in more trouble than I meant to. Anakin wasn’t shirking his duty. He was helping me.”
You turned toward Padmé, eyes pleading. “I lost control of the speeder bike. I could’ve crashed, if he hadn’t been there…” you trailed off, breath catching. “If he hadn’t been there, I don’t know if I’d have made it back. Please don’t blame him, he only did what anyone else would’ve done. I’ll take all the blame.”
Padmé’s gaze flickered between the two of you, and there was a long, unreadable pause. Her eyes softened, just slightly, before she turned toward Typho.
“That’s enough, Captain. There’s no need to involve the Jedi,” she said calmly. “I think we’ve all learned something valuable today.”
Typho didn’t look convinced, but he bowed his head and stepped back. Padmé waited until he’d walked away before turning to you with a tired sigh.
“Why am I not surprised that you were involved in the trouble?” she muttered, though her tone lacked real bite. She took your arm and gently guided you inside.
Once in her room, she sat you down at the vanity without another word. You stayed quiet, watching your sister through the mirror as she began carefully removing the crushed flowers and leaves tangled in your hair.
“Why?” she finally asked, fingers working gently through a knot. “Why do you keep doing this. taking risks, putting yourself in danger?”
You blinked, confused. “I don’t understand…”
Padmé met your eyes in the mirror. “You have the luxury of choice. Of freedom. You don’t have to bear the weight of the Senate or the Republic. You get to choose your path. So why are you always looking for ways to make it harder on yourself?”
The words stung. A tightness formed in your throat as your chest began to ache. You looked down, blinking rapidly, trying to keep the tears at bay.
How could you possibly explain to her, the poised, unshakable senator who bore the weight of the galaxy on her shoulders, what it felt like to live in her shadow? To want to matter in a world where she already filled every room with grace and purpose?
Tears welled in your eyes before you could stop them. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I was reckless and irresponsible. I didn’t mean to make things harder for you. I didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
Padmé paused her hands and stepped around to face you.
Your voice cracked, and the tears spilled anyway. “I just... I just—” You didn’t say it aloud, but it was there, in the air between you. The feeling of being invisible in her shadow. Of never being the one anyone looked to, listened to, or needed.
But before you could finish, Padmé wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into her embrace. The warmth of her hug unraveled the guilt in your chest. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You didn’t need to. She just held you, the way only an older sister could.
You stayed like that for a while, just the two of you, breathing in time.
Eventually, your voice broke the silence, needing to improve that strange atmosphere, needing to fix the situation that you yourself created. “Why don’t we spend the day in the garden? Near the lake.” you murmured against her shoulder. It’s beautiful out today. “You could use a break and I want to spend time with my sister.”
Padmé hesitated for a second, then smiled faintly, brushing your hair once more before rising. “Alright. I’ll ask the staff to prepare everything.”
Padmé went to inform the staff to prepare everything, and you took a deep breath, standing to head to your room and change. The tears were still there, but your heart felt just a little lighter.
Outside, you knew Anakin was probably still standing where you’d left him. And despite everything… a part of you hoped he’d still be looking for you when you came back.
When Padmé returned to the garden, her gaze immediately found you standing beside Anakin, two towels in your arms, animatedly saying something that she couldn’t quite catch. Whatever it was, it made Anakin laugh, a real, unguarded laugh. His blue eyes sparkled with that boyish glint, and he shook his head as if you’d just said something outrageous.
“Senator Amidala,” Anakin said, attempting to compose himself the moment he noticed her. “I want to apologize for my”
Padmé raised a hand, gently cutting him off. “Water under the bridge, Ani,” she said with a small smile. “Why don’t you help carry the picnic basket?”
She slipped her arm through yours, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “My sister suggested we go swimming. I hope you brought wetsuits.” Anakin’s ears turned red, and he quickly averted his gaze, falling in step behind the two of you.
Out in the garden, the afternoon sun cast warm glows over the lake’s edge. You and Padmé started a game of “don’t let the ball hit the ground,” laughing as the breeze threatened to steal the ball mid-air. Soon, you dragged Anakin and one of the palace guards into the chaos, splitting into teams. You threw down the towels to mark the makeshift line in the grass—Padmé and Anakin on one side, you and the guard on the other.
It didn't take long for the friendly game to turn into a whirlwind of competitiveness. You and Anakin became the fiercest pair, diving, spinning, and tumbling dramatically just to keep the ball from falling. His focus blurred—not because of the match, but because of your laughter, your joy, the way the sunlight caught your smile like a secret meant only for him. You teased him ruthlessly, lobbing tricky throws that forced him to dive with Jedi precision.
Not to be outdone, Anakin narrowed his eyes and sent the ball arcing high above your head. He grinned, thinking he’d finally won the round, but he underestimated you. You bolted backward, determined to catch it, but your foot slid over the damp edge of the grass, and with a splash, you disappeared into the lake.
“Y/N!” Anakin shouted, his heart stopping.
Without a second thought, he sprinted into the water, plunging into the depths to find you. Panic choked his thoughts as he swam, his heart hammering wildly. He cursed himself for being careless, for not watching you more closely, for letting things go too far.
Then, through the water’s shimmer, he saw you.
He scooped you into his arms, surfacing with a gasp and rushing back to the shore, both of you soaked and breathless. He laid you gently on the shore, dripping and panicked, placing his ear to your chest, just in time for you to sputter, cough, and burst into laughter. “You little” he groaned, dragging a hand down his face in relief. “You were pretending?!”
You grinned guiltily. “It was supposed to be funny.”
“You scared me out of my mind,” he muttered, heart still racing. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“I’m sorry,” you murmured, eyes sincere. “I didn’t mean to”
But Anakin didn’t answer. Instead, he picked you up without a word and ran right back into the lake. You shrieked as he jumped in with you, both of you plunging under the surface.
Padmé, from a distance, looked up from her holobook and shook her head with a fond smile. Watching her sister and Anakin splash around like unruly teenagers, a strange tightness crept into her chest. You two were a good match, she thought, but the realization sat oddly in her stomach, a feeling she chose not to examine.
Back in the water, Anakin hoisted you onto his shoulders, your hands instinctively clutching at his hair. “No, Anakin, put me down!” you cried, half-laughing, half-panicked.
“What? You giving up already?” he teased. “I thought you were the fun one!”
With a wicked grin, he flipped you off his shoulders, sending a wave of water crashing around you. You surfaced, gasping and laughing.
“You’ll be back,” you warned, narrowing your eyes in mock vengeance.
Anakin only smirked wider, until something grabbed his ankle under the surface. He yelped as he lost balance and toppled into the shallows. He resurfaced with a laugh, coughing and splashing wildly. The lake echoed with your laughter, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Anakin Skywalker felt light.
Not like a Jedi. Not like a soldier.
Just like a boy, falling fast for a girl who made him forget all the rules.
You spent long, sun-drenched moments with Anakin in the lake—swimming, splashing, laughing until your cheeks hurt. It was pure, unfiltered joy, a kind of freedom neither of you was used to. When the water finally started to cool and the scent of food wafted from the garden, you both made your way back to the grass, clothes dripping and clinging to your bodies, leaving wet footprints and little puddles in your wake.
As you approached the picnic setup where Padmé sat, surrounded by an inviting spread of fruit, bread, and fresh Naboo delicacies, you reached for the zipper of your blue frilly dress. With a soft tug, you peeled it away, revealing the white silk slip beneath—lightweight and now partially translucent from the water, it clung delicately to your form.
Anakin swallowed hard. His eyes darted to your exposed shoulders, the elegant curve of your neck, the delicate dip of your collarbone. Droplets of water trailed over your skin, sliding down your chest and disappearing into the folds of fabric he could not see past—but his imagination filled in the rest with a speed and clarity that made his cheeks burn.
He gave his head a sharp shake, sending water flying from his hair, and forced his gaze away, cursing himself for losing control.
You elbowed him playfully, catching his flushed expression. “Don’t do that,” you said, pouting a little as you pulled a stool over and plopped down across from Padmé. You reached for the breadbasket, slicing a piece and handing it wordlessly to Anakin. He blinked, a little caught off guard by the gesture, but took it with a sheepish smile before sitting beside you.
Padmé, watching the quiet exchange, shook her head with a breathy laugh. “Children,” she teased, half to herself.
“I’m eighteen,” you and Anakin answered in unison, then turned to look at each other and grinned.
After lunch, Padmé left, and Anakin followed like a shadow, resuming his Jedi duties. Yet no matter how many diplomatic briefings or serene walks through royal gardens he endured, his mind stayed tangled in you. Even when Padmé stumbled and fell laughing into a bed of wildflowers, just like the vision he’d dreamed of for years, he couldn’t stop the image of how those blooms would’ve looked tangled in your curls instead.
When he finally escorted Padmé back to her room, standing dutifully outside, she turned to him with a knowing look. “Go,” she said, gentle but firm. “Just promise me you’ll be back before dawn.”
He hesitated, offering a weak protest about Jedi responsibilities, but Padmé only raised a brow. It was enough. He understood her permission was given and her understanding went deeper than words.
This time, Anakin was the one waiting at the window.
His breath caught the moment he saw you step into the moonlight. You were wearing a blue floral dress that clung to your frame in all the right ways, the fabric catching the silver glow of the night and casting soft highlights along your skin. The delicate tone of the dress deepened the warmth of your complexion, every detail from the curve of your shoulder to the line of your waist etched into his memory in a single, reverent glance.
Your hair was down tonight, the breeze gently lifting the loose strands while a braid ran like a crown across the top of your head, tiny white flowers woven between the curls like stars caught in the galaxy of you. To Anakin, you didn’t look real. You looked like something dreamt up in one of the few peaceful corners of his restless mind.
"Waiting for me, Skywalker?" you teased, your voice warm, your smile tugging mischievously at your lips.
Anakin stood there, speechless, his lips parted as if he was trying to say something but couldn’t remember how to speak. You were breathtaking. And in that moment, nothing in his vocabulary, not even the hundreds of words he'd once used to describe a planet or a battlefield, felt worthy enough to describe you.
"You look... pretty today," he said finally, then stumbled over himself, his hand flying to scratch the back of his neck. "Not that you’re not pretty on other days, I mean, you’re beautiful. Always.”
You smiled gently, charmed by his awkward honesty. “You’re a cutie too,” you said with a wink, stepping closer. “Now how about we go for a walk?”
And just like that, the night unfolded before you.
Together, you explored the quiet edges of the city, letting the silence between you settle not with awkwardness but with ease. With every step, the weight of your lives , his Jedi code, your family name, fell away, leaving behind two people who just wanted to feel free for a little while. No rules. No expectations. Just heartbeats and curiosity and the pull of something new.
When you arrived at your destination, Anakin helped you off the speeder bike, his hand warm and sure as he guided you to the ground. Music drifted on the air, soft, rhythmic, unfamiliar. A bonfire crackled in the center of the clearing ahead, casting golden shadows over the gathering of people. Gungans played instruments crafted from wood and string, filling the night with a melody that felt both ancient and celebratory. Flowers of every color hung in garlands, draped from trees and woven into the crowd’s hair and clothes.
It felt like a hidden sanctuary. A little piece of joy carved out of the galaxy’s chaos.
“Dance with me?” you asked, reaching out your hand.
Anakin hesitated. “I don’t know how.”
“Then let’s learn together,” you whispered, pulling him into the crowd.
As a Jedi, Anakin was never taught how to dance. There were no lessons in joy, no teachings in how to laugh without purpose, or to move simply for the pleasure of movement. Leisure had never been encouraged in the Temple, only discipline, control, and obedience. Hobbies were considered distractions. Joy was something to be observed, not indulged in. So now, with your hands in his and music swirling around him like stardust, he was utterly, beautifully lost.
You led the dance with a freedom he didn’t know how to replicate. Your hips swayed to the rhythm, feet moving easily over the soft ground, a radiant smile tugging at your lips. When you tried to spin under his arm, Anakin misunderstood the cue and spun with you, causing you both to lose balance, stumbling into each other in a tangled mess of laughter. You caught yourselves, barely, and the sound of your giggle lit something in his chest that felt far too close to longing.
Still, you kept dancing, your movements light and confident, guiding him with every step. And somehow, through the chaos and the clumsy rhythm, it became less about getting it right and more about how it felt. How it felt to be alive, to be seen, to be here.
Then your eyes met. Blue locked onto yours, and for a breathless second, the world faded into nothing but the shared pulse of your hearts. There was a spark, no, more than a spark. It was a quiet explosion of recognition, of something deep and stirring that neither of you had asked for, but now couldn’t deny.
Anakin had only known you for two days, and yet, it didn’t feel new. It felt ancient, like something buried in his bones was waking up. As your foreheads gently touched, he closed his eyes. Just for a moment. Just to let himself pretend.
He imagined a galaxy where he wasn’t a Jedi. Where there were no missions or codes or rules to obey. Where there was only this: you, and the night air, and the music. Where his arms could be your home and not a transgression.
He didn’t know what to call what he felt. He wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel it at all. For years, his heart had belonged to Padmé or so he thought. But every glance, every smile, every heartbeat spent near you was unraveling that certainty. You weren’t replacing what he had felt. You were redefining it.
And that terrified him.
Because what if this wasn’t fleeting? What if you were becoming the gravity that held his entire world together? And what if, in choosing you… he was choosing himself?
what is disney feeding them???
they show up looking even more beautiful every time like ???
my two crushes in the same photo?? breathing the same air??
i’m not well. this is too powerful. too iconic. too much for my heart to handle 😭💔
hayden and diego together is quite literally the endgame i never knew i needed 🫠✨
I LOVE your Anakin and Hayden works, they're so well written and I just get lost in this universe you pull me into 👏🏻🥰
I was wondering if you had the time if you'd be able to make headcanons for a Hayden Christensen x kinda chubby younger girlfriend reader?
Thanks! Xoxo
HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X CHUBBY!READER HEADCANONS
WARNING: none, just cuteness
A/N: hiiii my loves, how are you doing?? So, when I got this request, it really made me stop and think at first, I was like “wait, is there even a difference between dating someone who's thin or chubby?” cuz in my head love is love 💕BUT then I realized that assuming everything’s the same can actually be a bit careless 🥲 so I took a step back and reflected with lots of love and care. Anywayyyy I hope you like it and please keep sending requests because I get so excited every time!! I love love love hearing from you all!! also didn't know if you want smut or no
Hayden fell for you long before you realized it. The first thing that caught him wasn’t your body, it was your laugh, your warmth, the way your cheeks lifted when you smiled. You were sunshine to him, warm and lovely.
His jaw always dropped when you wore those curve-hugging dresses you were unsure about. When you nervously mentioned the way your belly folded or how it clung “too much,” he just looked at you with that quiet intensity and said, “That’s my favorite part.”
When Hayden returned to training for Vader, he loved how strong it made him feel when he could pick you up effortlessly. He adored the way you’d squeal and laugh when he lifted you during a TikTok challenge you dragged him into (even though he had no idea what half of them meant).
That day you tried on one of his sweatshirts expecting it to be oversized, only for it to feel snug, broke your heart a little. But Hayden noticed the way your smile dimmed. That night, he sat beside you, handed you a softer, roomier hoodie from a Star Wars event in Tokyo, kissed your forehead, and told you, “It’s not about what fits you. It’s about what makes you feel safe.”
Hayden leaves love notes in your snack drawers. You’ll go for a cookie and find “Your thighs are art, don't argue” written on a sticky note in his handwriting. He knows how tempting it is to try those crazy diets that society seems to push on you, and he doesn't want you to fall into a black hole of insecurities and compromise your health.
Hayden always takes the pictures you feel cute in — no “suck it in,” no weird angles. And when you ask, “Do I look okay in this?” He simply says, “You always look beautiful, baby.” His lock screen is a picture of you in a tight white dress that hugs all the right places, highlighting your cute cleavage and the little folds of your tummy.
Hayden gently nudges you away from negative self-talk. When you get caught in a spiral, he doesn’t dismiss you, he listens, holds your hand, and says, “I know the world tries to make you feel like you’re ‘too much.’ But you’re everything to me.”
You once caught him reading body positive essays and plus-size fashion blogs. When you asked why, he shrugged and said, “If I want to love you well, I need to understand." Because Hayden knows how easy it is to fall into those toxic positivity conversations, reinforcing stereotypes and prejudices instead of validating your beauty.
He always encourages you to eat what you want when you go out, especially when you hesitate. “Life’s short,” he whispers with a smirk. “And that cheesecake’s flirting with us.” Hayden cares about your food, knowing that making food the villain will only bring guilt, give space to eating disorders and reinforce the idea that food is the villain.
Whenever someone online makes an ignorant comment, you never have to see it, because Hayden’s already blocked, reported, and moved on. “You don’t owe the internet your pain,” he says. He doesn't have social media, but he knows how tough the internet is, and he does everything he can to make sure you don't have to deal with insults and stupid comments.
ALMOST HERS, ENTIRELY YOURS: AOTC!ANAKIN X PADMÉ'S YOUNGER SISTER!READER
CHAPTER ONE
NEXT
SYNOPSIS: Anakin Skywalker has loved Padmé Amidala since he was ten years old — a crush that grew into something deeper over time. But everything shifts when he meets you, her younger sister.
WARNINGS: None yet. Anidala also here, don't if need a warning for them ;)
WORDS: 3.3k
A/N: hii, babes! sooo this little ideia I had while I was listening to “How Bad Do You Want It” by Lady Gaga. hope you enjoy! comments, reblogs & chaos always welcome — and requests are open as always! dividers by @/enchanthings
With attempts on Senator Amidala’s life becoming alarmingly routine, the Jedi Council had ruled that she remain under Jedi protection, not just for her safety, but to ensure the Separatists couldn’t silence her before she brought her motion before the Senate. Padmé Amidala was well-known across the galaxy for her unwavering principles. A fierce advocate for diplomacy, her voice carried weight and those who feared it knew it could shift the tides of war.
The growing tension with the Separatists had stirred chaos on Coruscant. It wouldn’t be long before that chaos would ripple outward, spreading like wildfire across the galaxy. Any hope for truce by democratic means was dwindling, but if there was one voice still strong enough to challenge the storm, it was hers.
Anakin Skywalker could hardly contain the anticipation of seeing her again.
His feelings for the senator hadn’t faded over the years. If anything, time apart had only made them sharper, more vivid, more impossible to ignore. From the moment he first saw her, he believed she was an angel, and nothing he’d learned about her since had proven him wrong. Whether it was in the holonews, Temple rumors, or stories exchanged in quiet corridors, Padmé Amidala’s compassion and courage only made her seem more unreal. More unreachable.
She wasn’t like the others. Not like the hollow politicians he’d overheard growing up. Padmé cared. She saw the galaxy not in star systems and senate seats, but in people, in those who suffered, those forgotten beneath the shining towers of Coruscant’s upper levels. She fought to pull justice upward from the shadows, to remind the Republic of its duty. And that, Anakin thought, made her the only kind of leader worth following.
“I’m sure Senator Amidala hasn’t forgotten about you,” Obi-Wan’s voice cut through the whirl of thoughts in his padawan’s head, calm and amused.
Anakin blinked, heat rushing to his face. He turned away from the elevator’s glass wall, willing the blush not to show. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Master,” he muttered, voice stiff and unconvincing.
Obi-Wan only shook his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in a knowing smile. He didn’t need the Force to sense how Anakin practically came undone the second the elevator doors slid open. And there she was.
Senator Amidala stood before them, her presence as composed and radiant as ever. She smiled politely as her eyes landed on Obi-Wan.
“Master Kenobi,” she greeted warmly.
But then her gaze fell on Anakin. And it lingered.
Just long enough for his breath to catch and his pulse to roar in his ears.
“Ani,” she said softly, her eyes warming. “How you’ve grown…”
Anakin scratched the back of his neck, cheeks burning. “You haven’t changed at all,” he blurted, then stumbled on his words. “I mean—you’ve just gotten… prettier.”
Smooth, he thought, cursing himself silently.
But Padmé only smiled, gracious and unbothered by his awkwardness, and motioned for them to sit in the sunken living room of her Coruscant apartment. Captain Typho, the ever-watchful head of Naboo’s royal security, stood nearby with his arms crossed, his lone eye scanning the room with practiced precision. It was clear he was already running through contingency plans, ready to bend reality if that’s what it took to protect the senator.
The conversation was brief, or at least, it felt that way to Anakin. If he was honest, he barely registered the words being exchanged. His mind was far too busy spinning up fantasies where he and Senator Amidala were alone together, in a field of wildflowers, on Naboo, on Coruscant, anywhere she would allow him to exist in her orbit.
By the time it was over, he was already standing beside Obi-Wan, halfway into the elevator, still chasing the imaginary sound of her laugh in his head, when his master reminded him of the arrangement: He would be the one escorting Padmé back to Naboo, where she’d spend time with her family while the Separatist crisis was being contained.
And just like that, they were off, the two of them, together. Anakin felt like he was walking on air, grateful beyond measure that the Force had aligned to give him this opportunity. He could barely keep still. To have an excuse to be near her, speak to her, breathe the same air, it was more than he could bear. It was a dream, one he hoped wouldn’t end.
They traveled on a freighter, blending in with the other passengers, keeping a low profile to avoid tipping off anyone who might want to harm her. Even then, in worn robes and modest surroundings, she shone like starlight. The journey was a whirlwind of feelings. Every time she looked at him, spoke to him, asked him something, anything, his heart felt like it might burst from his chest.
Padmé asked him about his life. About his Jedi training. About the man he was becoming.
And gathering a courage he didn’t fully possess, Anakin answered, painting vivid pictures of daring missions and wild adventures. He spoke of triumphs, of narrow escapes, of battles fought alongside Obi-Wan. Of course, with Obi-Wan not there, Anakin took a little liberty with the storytelling. Maybe just slightly exaggerated his own role. Maybe omitted the times things hadn’t gone quite to plan.
But in her eyes, he wanted to be impressive. He wanted to be more than the boy she used to know. He wanted to be the man she could one day love.
When they landed on Naboo, a welcoming party from the Queen’s court was already waiting by the dock. Anakin stepped out first, helping Padmé into the little lake skiff. Her delicate hand lingered against his palm, warm and featherlight, and even after she’d taken her seat to speak with one of the guards, he couldn’t help but glance down at his hand, tracing the ghost of her touch with his thumb and smiling to himself like a fool.
Barely ten minutes later, the boat glided across the still water and docked along the curved wooden pier that wrapped around the Amidala family’s lake house. The soft creak of wood under his boots echoed as Anakin stepped off, stretching out his hand to help the senator once again. But before he could savor the feel of her fingers in his, Padmé was already swept into her parents’ arms, their reunion saturated with long-held emotion and relief.
“Sis!”
An unfamiliar voice called from the doorway of the house, light, melodic, and filled with giddy affection. Anakin’s gaze snapped up, instinctively alert, his stance shifting until he saw you.
Your smile was pure sunlight as you darted forward, lifting your long silk skirt to hurry toward your sister, arms already reaching out for a hug. But as Anakin had instinctively anticipated, your steps faltered, your foot catching on one of the many airy layers of your gown. You teetered forward, wide-eyed, arms flailing. You were a second from tumbling off the dock and into the water.
Until he caught you.
One strong arm wrapped around your back, the other gripping your forearm just before you went under. Your breath hitched, your chest pressed to his, your heart pounding as the world slowed for a moment too long.
You looked up, startled and slightly breathless, straight into the bluest eyes you'd ever seen. The kind of blue that made you forget what you were about to say.
“Oh,” you murmured, blinking. “Wait—are you that little boy Padmé said she met on Tatooine?”
Anakin blinked, like your words had snapped him out of a trance. He carefully set you back on your feet, stepping away as soon as he was sure you were steady.
“I’m a Jedi,” he said quickly, too quickly. “Anakin Skywalker.”
There was a quiet defiance in the way he said it, like he needed to cast off whatever image you’d just conjured. Not a boy from a desert planet. Not a slave. But a warrior. A protector. A Jedi.
Your smile only grew, excitement flaring in your expression. “I’ve never met a Jedi before,” you said, eyes bright with curiosity. “You can, like... move stuff with your mind? Or even better — do you actually carry one of those glowing laser swords?”
“Lightsaber,” Anakin corrected gently, but his lips tugged into a smile, soft and a little cocky, like he couldn’t quite help it. You made him feel seen. Not as a mission or an obligation. But as something... more.
He straightened slightly, his tone slipping into something halfway between duty and pride. “A Jedi’s lightsaber is his life. We’re taught to protect it, to never lose it.”
You leaned in a little closer, not missing the flicker of pride in his voice. “Can I see it?” you asked, like you were asking to see a hidden treasure. “Please? Just for a second?”
There was a sparkle in your eyes, like this was all a grand adventure. You weren't impressed by titles or legacy. You were just curious, joyful, and so effortlessly magnetic it almost made his chest ache.
Anakin hesitated, a quiet grin blooming at the edge of his lips. He knew he shouldn’t. But he also knew he wanted to.
And Force help him — he wanted to impress you.
“Y/N, Padawan Skywalker didn’t come here to play,” Padmé said gently, her tone laced with older-sister patience as she gave you a pointed look.
You pouted but obeyed, not without rolling your eyes like a bratty teenager who'd been caught mid-fun. Anakin noticed, catching the shift in your expression just as you stuck your tongue out at him. He blinked in surprise, clearly unsure whether he should be amused or annoyed. You, of course, took that as a win.
You and Padmé couldn’t have been more different.
Where she was graceful, composed, and precise, a woman who wielded diplomacy the way some wielded weapons, you were all impulse, confidence, and fire. Padmé had always been the one to weigh every word, to calculate every step. You, on the other hand, didn’t stop until you got what you wanted, no matter how messy the path there was. If she was the cool voice of reason, you were the one kicking down the door.
You both carried the same iron courage, the same unwavering hope in people, but yours showed up in sharper, more unpredictable ways. Maybe it was the age gap. Maybe it was her responsibilities as a senator. Or maybe it was simply the weight of her legacy, the fact that you’d spent your life under the shadow of the galaxy’s role model, and your only choice was to walk a different path entirely.
Anakin’s official duty was to protect Padmé, shadow her, guard her, ensure no further attempts on her life succeeded. But the reality was far more boring than it sounded. She spent long hours behind closed doors in tense meetings, writing briefs, and trading coded messages with other senators. And because he wasn’t allowed in the room when classified matters were discussed, he spent much of his time pacing the hallways like a restless hound.
Which meant you quickly became his favorite distraction.
You’d appear with a mischievous smile and a bounce in your step, tossing him a piece of fruit or a cupcake as you passed by, laughing when he fumbled the catch. Other times, you’d simply sit beside him, chattering about anything and everything, sometimes just to make him laugh. It became a rhythm, a quiet, unspoken habit. He found himself waiting for the sound of your footsteps. For that light in your eyes.
Once and only once he let you hold his lightsaber.
He’d meant it as a small gesture, maybe even a show of trust. A way to impress you. But within moments, you’d accidentally activated it, and before either of you could react, you’d sliced your mother’s antique vase clean in two.
You both stared at the destruction in stunned silence, the hum of the blade still vibrating in the air. Then you looked at him, wide-eyed but shameless.
“Oops.”
Anakin groaned, hand over his face. “I’m never hearing the end of this.”
You just grinned, handing the weapon back carefully like it was no big deal. “Relax, Skywalker. I’ll blame it on the wind.”
And in that moment, he knew exactly what kind of trouble you were, and that he liked it far more than he should.
On one of his nightly rounds, Anakin noticed a window left ajar, the curtains swaying lazily in the cool night breeze. He moved toward it cautiously, one hand already brushing the hilt of his lightsaber, prepared for danger, for disruption.
What he found instead was you.
You were perched in the open window, dressed in black pants and a jacket that blended into the night, your silhouette cut from the same cloth as the stars. Your legs dangled freely, swaying just over the edge, as if you were moments away from slipping into the moonlit air and vanishing.
His heart skipped, not from fear, but from the jolt of seeing you there, wild and untamed.
“What are you doing?” he asked, voice low and sharp, his brow furrowed as his hand closed firmly around your arm. The contact was meant to stop you, but his fingers lingered.
You rolled your eyes dramatically. “You don’t know how to have fun, do you, Anakin?” you teased, your smile pulling at the corner of your mouth, sly and impossible to ignore. “I suppose fun isn’t in the Jedi vocabulary.”
He didn’t answer. His jaw was set, his fingers tightening slightly on your arm.
“Y/N, go back to your room,” he said, trying to summon that disciplined tone Obi-Wan always used. “You’re going to get yourself hurt.”
“Then come with me,” you murmured, tilting your head. “Protect me, Jedi.”
There was something in your voice, a melody laced with danger, invitation, and the kind of rebellion Anakin recognized too well in himself. You weren’t just tempting him to leave his post, you were tempting him to abandon the safety of his walls. To choose want over duty.
He glanced at the hallway behind him, at the door to Padmé’s quarters, the room he was assigned to guard. That was where he should be. The Jedi Code echoed in the back of his mind like a warning bell. But the fire in your eyes drowned it out.
“Come on, Anakin,” you whispered, fingers sliding down his wrist and lacing with his. “Almost all of Naboo’s guard is stationed here. No one’s going to get past them tonight.”
His resolve crumbled the moment you pulled him closer.
“Fine,” he said, quiet and breathless.
You grinned, not a sweet smile, but something electric. And without another word, you leapt out of the window, tugging him with you. Anakin barely had time to react before he landed behind you on the back of a speeder bike, the one you have parked discreetly at the edge of the estate.
Your hands took the controls. The engine purred to life, and then you were flying, your hair whipping back into his face, your body warm and solid against his. He wrapped his arms around your waist, to keep balance, he told himself. But he didn’t let go.
You flew like you lived, fast, chaotic, alive. The speeder dove and climbed with reckless abandon, your laughter carried on the wind. More than once, he swore you were about to hit a tree, only for you to swerve with perfect, impossible timing.
The world blurred around you, stars above, lake below and still, all Anakin could think of was the warmth of your body beneath his hands, the rush of danger and desire tangling in his chest. You weren’t just a thrill. You were a spark. A question he’d never dared ask, what would it feel like to be free?
The lake shimmered below as you leaned them toward the water, close enough for him to dip his hand into the cool surface. His fingers broke through the glass-like stillness, trailing through glowing fish that darted away in flashes of silver and blue.
For once, there were no rules. No titles. No expectations. He isn't the choosen one. He was just Anakin.
Just you and him, flying too fast through the night, hearts pounding, hands tangled, somewhere between duty and something far more dangerous.
You smiled softly, glancing over your shoulder at him. That carefree grin on his face suited him, bright, unburdened, almost boyish. Anakin was too young to carry the weight of a galaxy on his shoulders. He shouldn’t have had to bear so much so soon. Tonight, you just wanted to give him something simple, a night with no duties, no burdens, no destiny waiting to devour him.
A moment of distraction, a curve too fast and you nearly clipped a tree. Anakin acted on instinct, grabbing the steering handles and forcing the speeder into a sharp turn. The vehicle skidded, tore through a field of wildflowers, and finally came to a halt in a shower of petals and torn grass. The two of you tumbled off the bench, landing in the tangled bloom of crushed blossoms and laughter.
You braced for a lecture. You’d nearly killed them both. He had every right to scold you, but instead, he laughed.
Anakin tipped his head back and let go, laughing so hard he clutched his stomach, his whole body shaking with it. And that was it, you cracked too, letting the tension dissolve into giggles and gasps for breath, tears of joy slipping down your cheeks as you collapsed into the flowers beside him.
“Thank you,” Anakin murmured when the laughter faded into silence. His palm found your back, warm and grounding as he pulled you closer. Your head came to rest on his chest, rising and falling with each quiet breath. “I needed that.”
You smiled softly, tracing the seams of his Jedi uniform with idle fingers. “A near-death experience?”
He chuckled. “Yeah… that too.”
His eyes drifted up to the sky endless and star-drenched. So different from Tatooine. On Naboo, the air wasn’t thick with fear or survival. Here, everything felt softer. Lighter. Free.
“I think,” he said slowly, “I needed to be happy… without feeling guilty about it.”
You looked up at him, gaze gentle, then reached for his hand. Your fingers found his and squeezed, grounding him again.
“Good,” you whispered, a grin tugging at your lips. “cause I don’t plan on letting you go until we’ve squeezed every bit of fun Naboo has to offer.”
“Oh?” he teased, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers grazing your skin just long enough to make your breath catch. The moonlight painted your features like something from a dream, soft, glowing, unreal. “And I don’t get a choice?”
You shook your head, playful but sincere. “You always have a choice, Anakin. You just have to remember that it’s yours to make.”
Your eyes turned skyward again, catching the shimmer of a shooting star as it cut through the dark. “Quick, quick, make a wish.”
He watched you close your eyes, the smallest smile curving your lips as you whispered your hope to the stars. You were radiant like this, not just beautiful, but whole, alive in a way that seemed untouched by everything that weighed on him.
He closed his eyes too.
He didn’t believe in those myths, in childish stories. But if a wish could keep you close, if it could carve out more nights like this, where he wasn’t a Jedi, or a soldier, or a ticking time bomb, then he would wish harder than he ever had.
Because this? This soft happiness? He hadn’t known how badly he needed it. And now that he had… he wasn’t sure he could live without it.
You reminded him that he had choices. That he was still human, still his own. That maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to walk the path that others carved for him.
He didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. But under that star-filled sky, your hand still wrapped in his, he decided he was ready to find out.
SYNOPSIS: Anakin Skywalker has always been off-limits, your father’s best friend, the man who watched you grow up, the one who lingered just a little too long in the kitchen after family dinners. There have always been sparks, furtive glances, near touches, the unspoken tension crackling between you like static. But tonight, during a simple game night at your house, something shifts. A brush of his fingers. A look held just a second too long. And suddenly, the game you're playing isn't the one on the screen… it's the one you're playing with fire.
WARNING: +18, dirty talk, sexual innuendo (doesn't happen), age difference (reader is over 18, Anakin is in his 40s), cheating.
WORDS: 2.1k
A/N: hey babes, how do we doin’? sooo this little fic was literally rotting in the trash folder of my docs 💀 and I thought, you know what? let me resurrect it real quick. made a few tweaks here and there and boom, here’s the result✨hope u like what I wrote it!! your comments, likes & reblogs mean everything to me fr 🥺💕 they help me know if I’m feeding y’all right or if I’m going weird 😈 so let me know, did I push it too far this time?? should I chill? should I not? 😏 lmk your thoughts, angels!! requests always open 💌 kisses to all😘✨ also thxs for the 300 followers, dividers by @cafekitsune
CHAPTER ONE:
Anakin Skywalker had been your father’s best friend for as long as you could remember. They met back in college, becoming fast friends who quickly turned inseparable. From late-night study sessions to wild adventures that your father still joked about, their friendship had stood the test of time. They were each other’s best men at their weddings, and later godfathers at the births of their children, you and Anakin and Padmé’s twins, Luke and Leia.
It had become a tradition that every friday night, Anakin would come over to watch football with your dad. The two of them, both middle-aged but still full of energy and humor, would crack open a few beers, devour an entire pepperoni pizza between them, and relive their glory days with stories they never seemed to tire of. Meanwhile, your mother and Padmé, would head off to book club, a well-earned escape from the chaos of family life. Luke and Leia usually had plans of their own, out with their boyfriends or hanging with friends.
And then there was you. Grounded. Bored. Alone in the house, with no fun in sight. It was a cruel twist of fate, but you had resigned yourself to the boredom. As you padded downstairs, your intention was simple: steal the pizza your dad always ordered for game night and maybe annoy him a little, just for fun.
But as you reached the last step and turned the corner into the living room, you realized your father wasn’t there. Instead, sprawled comfortably on the couch, was Anakin, sipping a beer with his usual calm confidence. His broad shoulders filled out the worn t-shirt he was wearing, and the light from the television cast shadows that only seemed to highlight his chiseled features, ones that had only grown more striking with age.
It was hard not to notice how well life had treated him. Anakin had always been good-looking, but now, at forty, he was the picture of a DILF: tall, ruggedly handsome, with a strong jawline softened just slightly by the beginnings of salt-and-pepper scruff. His blonde hair, longer than it had been in the old photos you’d seen, was perfectly tousled. It gave him an effortlessly cool look that contrasted with his laid-back, friendly personality.
He glanced up when he heard you enter, flashing a grin that was both mischievous and welcoming. "Your dad went to buy another pack of beer," he explained, patting the spot next to him on the couch. “But you can join me until he gets back.”
You hesitated for a moment, feeling strangely self-conscious under his gaze. Anakin had always been a presence in your life, someone who felt like a second father in many ways, but you couldn't deny that there was something undeniably magnetic about him now, a kind of charisma that came with age and experience. He looked good. Way too good.
"Grounded, huh?" he teased, his deep voice rumbling with amusement as he took another sip of his beer. "What did you do this time?"
"Nothing serious," you muttered, throwing yourself onto the couch beside Anakin. "Apparently, staying out past curfew is a crime now."
He chuckled, a low sound that sent a strange warmth through you. "Your dad’s always been tough when it comes to curfew. Guess old habits die hard."
"It's so unfair," you whined, your head flopping dramatically onto his arm. "I do everything right, and the one time I make a tiny mistake, I get grounded." You shot him an exasperated look, seeking sympathy.
Anakin barely glanced away from the game, the corner of his mouth twitching in amusement. "One little mistake, huh?" he drawled, his voice easy and teasing. "You sure about that?" His arm, draped casually along the back of the couch, didn’t move, but his fingers grazed your hair lazily, sending a shiver down your spine as he twirled a strand between his fingers.
You huffed, shifting to get more comfortable, but secretly savoring the sensation. "Yes, I’m sure," you pouted, stretching the words out as though you were explaining the most obvious thing. "Staying out a little late isn’t the end of the world."
Anakin hummed in recognition, his fingers still playing lightly with your hair, as though entirely unfazed by your outburst. "Your dad’s just looking out for you, sweetheart," he said, his voice smooth and relaxed, the deep timbre settling in your chest. "This world isn’t always kind to a sweet little thing like you."
There was something almost affectionate in the way he said it, his words dripping with that laid-back charm that made everything feel less serious. His easy going nature only made you more irritated and undeniably more drawn to him.
You sighed dramatically, but the warmth of his comforting tone of his voice made it impossible to stay mad for long. "Yeah, well, maybe I don’t need so much looking after."
Anakin chuckled, the sound rumbling softly from his chest. "Sure you don’t, sweetheart," he murmured, his fingers still lazily combing through your hair. "But we both know you're used to getting things your way, always a spoiled little girl” He tilts his head to look down at you, eyes lingering on your pouty lips.
You rolled your eyes dramatically, blinking up at him with exaggerated innocence. "I have no idea what you're talking about," you said, your voice dripping with mock sweetness.
Anakin chuckled softly, the sound low and amused, his fingers lazily stroking through your hair. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean, sweetie," he murmured, his voice deep and rich, sending a flutter through your chest.
He leaned in closer, the warmth of his breath brushing against your ear, making your pulse skip. "Your father's been spoiling you since the day you were born," he whispered, his tone teasing but with an undeniable edge. "And let’s be honest, I’ve helped. How could we not, with you batting those big eyes at us like that?"
You scoffed, trying to brush off the butterflies in your stomach, but the corner of your mouth twitched in a smirk. “I can’t help it if people like me,” you shot back, crossing your arms, though the touch of his fingers in your hair was far too comfortable to pull away from.
Anakin’s chuckle deepened, his eyes glinting as he looked down at you, his voice lowering to a near-growl. "Oh, you definitely know how to get whatever you want from the boys at college, don’t you?" His lips hovered near your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "Just bat those lashes, flash that innocent smile... you’ve got them wrapped around your little finger."
You swallowed, trying to stay composed, but the way he said it, so calm, so sure, made your heart race.
His hand stilled in your hair, his thumb brushing lightly against your temple. "Your poor father doesn’t stand a chance," he said with a low laugh. "I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes... just thinking about all the dirty thoughts his little girl inspires."
You bit your lower lip, staring up at him with a playful gleam in your eyes. "And you, Mr. Skywalker," you teased, your voice dripping with suggestion, "have you ever had one of those dirty thoughts?" Your tongue darted out, moistening your lips in a way you knew would draw his attention.
Anakin's amused chuckle rumbled in his chest, the sound rich and lazy as if your boldness barely fazed him. He leaned back slightly, taking a slow, deliberate sip of his beer, letting the moment stretch out. His eyes never left yours, the weight of his gaze making your cheeks flush with heat. The silence between you crackled with tension.
He finally swallowed, a small smirk playing on his lips as he wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb. "Uhm," he murmured, his tone casual but his eyes telling a different story. "You know, I think that’s a dangerous question to ask, sweetheart."
His voice dropped a little, filled with a teasing edge. "But since you brought it up…" His gaze flicked to your lips for the briefest moment before meeting your eyes again, his stare so intense it made your pulse quicken.
Another low chuckle escaped him, watching as your confidence wavered ever so slightly. "Let's just say... that it's not just the boys at your uni who find you attractive”
Anakin’s gaze lingered on you, studying your movements with an easy confidence, his eyes following the way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with a strand of your hair.
You crossed your legs, the slight movement drawing his attention downward for a brief second before his gaze returned to your face, the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“I can only imagine what it would be like to have you spread out for me” He leans in, inching his face closer to yours, lips only a breath away. “Your father wouldn't approve, but a man can dream”
“What my dad doesn't see, he doesn't feel” Your lips parted, and you glanced up at him, catching his eyes just as they flickered toward your mouth. You bit your lower lip, letting your teeth graze the soft skin slowly, knowing full well he was watching. The air between you thickened with unspoken tension, his gaze darkening as the space between you seemed to shrink.
He shifted slightly, turning his body toward you, his knee brushing against yours. The movement was subtle, but it sent a pulse of electricity through you. His hand, which had been resting behind you, drifted lower, his fingertips now gently brushing the bare skin of your shoulder, the touch so light it made you shiver.
“Is that so, you reckless girl?” He practically purrs, voice dripping with sinful promises.
You tilted your head toward him, the two of you so close now that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. His fingers lingered at the nape of your neck for a moment before they grazed down your arm, slow and deliberate, as if testing how much further he could go. Your heart pounded in your chest, but neither of you moved to break the moment.
“What exactly do you think your dad wouldn't want to see, hmm?” His other hand cups your jaw, thumb stroking your bottom lip. “His precious princess, wrapped around a man's cock, begging to be filled?”
“Would the cock be yours?” You teased him, raising your eyebrow, the suggestive glint flickering in your tone.
He chuckles darkly, his grip tightening on your jaw as he presses his forehead against yours, noses touching.
“Oh, it most certainly would be mine, sweetheart.” He murmurs, his voice a deep, seductive rumble. “I'd make sure you never forgot who this tight little body belongs to.” His hand on your thigh inches higher, fingertips brushing against the damp spot that's forming on your shorts.
“Fuck, you're already so wet for me, aren't you? Such a needy little thing, desperate to be claimed.” He licks his lips, eyes flickering down to your mouth.
Just as your lips parted to respond, your breath already hitching from how close Anakin was, your father's voice rang out from the hallway. "Hope the game still going"
You and Anakin jolted apart like guilty teenagers, your bodies moving faster than your brains could catch up. He sat back against the couch with a practiced ease that didn’t quite mask the red crawling up his neck, while you quickly tucked your legs underneath you, trying to pretend your heart wasn’t hammering against your ribs.
Your dad returned to the living room balancing a new pack of beer in one hand, he paused mid-step, narrowing his eyes slightly at the two of you.
“Already stealing my pizza, huh?” he teased, setting the drinks on the coffee table and taking his spot in the recliner with a heavy sigh.
Anakin gave a tight-lipped smile and a short laugh, his hand sliding discreetly off your thigh as if your dad hadn’t already seen it. He reached for his beer and took a long sip, like he could wash away the moment with hops and carbonation.
You weren’t sure what was louder, your racing pulse or the awkward tension buzzing between your knees where his hand had just been.
Your dad, mercifully oblivious or just choosing not to push it, turned his attention to the TV, adjusting the volume. Anakin leaned forward slightly, grabbing a slice of pizza as an excuse to close the distance between you again. His thigh brushed yours, casual, but not accidental.
He didn't look at you when he said it, his voice low and warm against your ear. “This isn’t over, sweetie.”
The words sent a thrill up your spine. You glanced at him from the corner of your eye, and there it was, that same heat. That same wicked promise in the curl of his lips. His eyes flicked to your mouth, barely a second, but you felt it like a spark to kindling.
@hellokittyyloverrrr i said i'd write a part two just for u, so, take me some time, but i finally finish.... hope you enjoy ;)
“This isn't how I imagined a Republic interrogation room to be,” you drawled with mock surprise, lashes fluttering as the black hood was pulled off your head. The dim room came into focus—red-tinted lights, heavy velvet curtains, the scent of cigarettes and sex lingering in the air. Your messy hair fell across your face and you blew it out of your eyes, surveying the space with growing amusement.
Not a cruiser. Not a detention cell. And definitely not Jedi Temple protocol.
Your wrists burned faintly from the coarse rope binding them behind the chair. You shifted slightly, testing your range. You weren’t worried. Not yet.
“I’ve seen cleaner brothels,” you added, lifting a brow.
Across from you, General Anakin Skywalker flinched. Just a fraction. But it was enough. He stiffened like you’d struck a nerve, then coughed as if to cover it, stepping into the pool of moody red light that painted the center of the room. His tunic was slightly undone at the collar, his gloved hands flexing at his sides. Agitated.
Perfect.
“There wasn’t time for proper transport,” he said coolly, though the edge in his voice betrayed him. “You’re too dangerous to be left unsecured.”
“Mmm. Dangerous,” you repeated, tasting the word. “Now that’s a compliment. Especially coming from the Republic’s golden boy.”
You leaned back in the chair, legs crossing slowly, deliberately. The hem of your dark tunic slipped a little higher on your thigh, and Anakin’s gaze dropped before he snapped it back up with a clenched jaw.
Stars, this was fun.
“So,” you continued sweetly, “how long do you plan to keep me tied up in this charming little love shack?”
His mouth opened, then shut. He looked like he’d swallowed a sun. “As long as it takes for you to talk.”
“I am talking,” you teased, flashing a wicked grin. “Though I don’t think that’s what you meant, hmm?”
“Don’t play games.”
“Oh, General—” you leaned forward just enough to make him uncomfortable, voice low and syrupy, “you brought me to a motel and tied me to a chair. Who’s playing games, really?”
His blue eyes darkened. You saw the flash of conflict there—the sharp edge of discipline battling the heat simmering just beneath it. It thrilled you. He was trying so hard to be the Jedi. Calm. Controlled. Unshakable.
But you were already in his head, and you both knew it.
“You think you’ve got control,” he said tightly. “But you’re the one restrained.”
You tilted your head, smiling with dangerous innocence. “Restrained, sure. But not powerless. You didn’t hand me over to the Council. You didn’t even log my capture. That means this is personal.”
That last word hung in the air, electric and heavy.
Anakin’s jaw tensed. “I’m doing what needs to be done.”
You slowly shifted your hands behind your back, not to escape—yet—but just to remind yourself that you could, if you really wanted to. “Or maybe,” you whispered, “you didn’t want to let me go.”
A beat of silence passed between you.
Then, you smiled, triumphant.
“See, General? I might be tied to this chair… but I think you’re the one who’s trapped.”
“You don’t know anything,” Anakin snapped, his voice tight, raw—blistering with frustration. His cheeks flushed with color, betraying more than he wanted to admit.
But you only smiled, slow and wicked.
“Oh, maybe not?” you replied, arching a brow in playful mockery. You leaned back against the ropes, eyes glittering as they drank him in. “Because from where I’m sitting… it sure looks like I’m getting under that perfect Jedi skin of yours.”
Your gaze dragged down his body deliberately, then back up, watching how his jaw clenched under the weight of your words. “I mean, come on, darling,” you purred, voice soaked in sinful sweetness. “You’re supposed to be calm, composed, unattached—and here you are, pacing like a man about to detonate. If I touched you right now,” you leaned in, lips parting just slightly, “I think you'd catch fire.”
Anakin turned sharply, his boots thudding against the cheap motel floor as he paced. His cloak flared behind him, the tension coiling through his shoulders like a live wire. The room smelled like heat and dust and temptation—low red lighting throwing shadows across the wall, bottles of untouched liquor still sitting on the bed, remnants of an impulse he wasn’t even sure he could name.
He’d brought you here because you were dangerous. Because he needed control.
But somehow, you were the one in command.
Every shift of your body, every smirk or whisper wound itself around his will like a slow, strangling vine. You were dangerous in ways his lightsaber couldn’t defend against. He had mastered combat, outpaced his master, survived a high skilled combat test —but this? This pull, this maddening, molten craving?
It terrified him. And you knew it.
“Why do you keep fighting it, baby?” you asked softly, your voice like silk, like seduction wrapped in honey and sin. “You don’t have to play the Jedi tonight. No one’s watching. No code. No Council. Just us.”
He didn’t answer.
“Denying yourself?” you continued, voice dropping to a whisper. “It only makes it worse. You’ll break eventually, jedi. So why not just…” you licked your lips, tilting your head, “take what you want?”
Anakin stopped pacing.
The storm behind his eyes was raging now, and you could feel it—like the air before lightning strikes. He was fraying, splitting between duty and desire, between the man he had sworn to be and the one you saw clawing beneath his skin.
He stared at you like you were war and salvation all at once. And still, you smiled.
Anakin stood frozen, chest rising and falling with sharp, uneven breaths. Your words clung to the air like smoke, thick with heat and sin. The way you looked at him—those glittering, dangerous eyes and that wicked curve of your mouth—set his blood on fire in a way no lightsaber ever had.
“You play a dangerous game,” he growled, low and dark, every word roughened by the desire he could no longer bury. His fists clenched at his sides, his cloak twisting between tense fingers.
You just laughed—a slow, sultry sound, honey-sweet and sinful—leaning forward as much as the ropes would allow. They groaned in protest as you shifted, wrists bound behind the chair, the only thing stopping you from closing the distance and lighting the match between you.
“Is it a game, though?” you asked softly, head tilting, voice thick with challenge. “Or are you just... afraid?”
Anakin stepped forward.
Then another.
Until you could feel his presence like a heatwave, wrapping around your skin, licking up your spine. He was so close you could count every pretty detail across his cheekbone, feel the storm rising behind his blue eyes.
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he snapped, but his voice cracked—just slightly. A tremor ran through it like a fault line breaking. You saw it—the flicker of war in him. Between the man raised to follow rules, and the one who burned to break every last one of them for you.
You smiled. Wider. Bolder. Hungrier.
“Then prove it,” you whispered, words laced with heat and promise. “Show me you’re not just some golden boy shackled by Jedi vows. Show me you can feel.”
Your eyes dropped to his lips, then lifted again—slow, deliberate, daring.
“Kiss me, Jedi.”
Anakin’s breath hitched, heart pounding like thunder in a locked room. And in that moment, everything inside him snapped.
He reached out—no hesitation, no mercy—and cupped your face in his hand, his fingers weaving into your hair. The second your breath hitched in response, he leaned in. Close enough that your breaths mingled. That your lips nearly brushed.
And then he kissed you.
He kissed you like a man unraveling. Like a dam finally giving way. His mouth slanted over yours with a raw, ravenous hunger. Like he’d been waiting a lifetime and could wait no longer. His tongue swept into your mouth, tasting you—claiming you. You met him with the same wild heat, like you'd been daring him for this from the moment you locked eyes.
The kiss was molten. Fierce. Desperate.
Hands tangled. Teeth grazed. Time fell away.
And at that moment, the galaxy didn’t exist. There was no war. No Jedi Code. No allegiance. Just you, and him, and the ache that pulsed like a second heartbeat between you.
When he finally pulled back, lips swollen, breath ragged, eyes wild—you looked at each other like you had just committed the most beautiful sin.
And Anakin knew, with terrifying clarity, that he was already lost.
But he didn’t care. Because right now, he had exactly what he wanted. What he needed.
You smiled in amusement, a flicker of provocation. “You’re a good kisser, I didn’t expect you to learn about this in Jedi training, I’m surprised, but not disappointed.”
Anakin's eyes flashed with a mix of pride and possessiveness at his words. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "There are many things they don't teach you in Jedi training," he murmured, voice low and rough with lingering desire. "But I've picked up a few skills on my own."
His hand slid down from your face to your neck, his thumb brushing over the racing pulse there. He could feel it fluttering wildly beneath his touch, just like his own heart. The proof of the effect he had on your only spurred on his boldness.
"And I'm not nearly done learning... and teaching," he added with a wicked grin, his eyes glinting with mischief and promise.
Anakin's other hand found your hip, squeezing the soft curve of it as he pulled your flush against him. He could feel every inch of your body now, pressed tight to his own. The swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the flare of your hips... it ignited a fire in his blood that he couldn't ignore. That he didn't want to ignore.
"You're playing with fire, sith," he warned, even as he leaned in to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. He inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of her skin. Something floral and sweet, with an underlying musk that makes your head spin. "You keep pushing me, and I might just... burn you."
His lips found your pulse point, and he pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss there. He licked and sucked at the sensitive skin, determined to get some reaction out of you.
"You don't know what you're getting into," he murmured against your neck, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "I'm not a gentle man. Not when it comes to things... and people... I want."
"oh, no gentle? I suppose I'm not out of the loop on the jedi games" you pondered mischievously.
He punctured his words with a nip to your neck, just shy of painful. Enough to make you gasp, to feel the sharp stinging of his teeth. Enough to make you shudder against him, your body trembling with a need that matched his own.
Anakin pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes blazing with hunger and intent. His hand slid from your hip to the small of your back, holding you tight. Keeping you pinned to him, trapped in his orbit.
"Tell me to stop," he challenged, voice rough and low. "Tell me you don't want this. That you don't burn for me like I burn for you."
He waited, barely breathing. His heart pounding wildly in his chest as he stared down at you, searching her face for any hint of hesitation or doubt.
But he knew you wouldn't say no. He could see it in your eyes, in the flush coloring your cheeks and the parted swell of your lips. You wanted this as much as he did. Needed it. Craved it.
And he would have you. No matter the cost. No matter the consequences. In this moment, nothing else matters. Not the war, not the Council, not the vows he'd sworn to uphold.
There was only you. Only the fire that burned between you. Only the desperate, aching need to claim you. I own you. And he would. He would have you. No matter what it took.
You spread your legs, allowing Anakin to fit in there to deepen the kisses, you tilted your head back, whimpering in pleasure. “Are you going to keep me tied up the whole time?” you asked, the rope rough against your delicate wrists.
Anakin's hands slid down to grip your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft flesh as he pushed your legs further apart. He stepped into the space you'd created, his body now nestling between your spread thighs. Close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, the hard length of him pressed against you through the fabric of his robes.
"Keep you tied up?" he murmured, a wicked gleam in his eye as he looked down at you. "Yes. I think I will."
His hands slid higher, pushing up the hem of his sith robe. Slowly, teasingly, until his calloused palms were caressing the smooth skin of your inner thighs. Your breath hitched, you back arching slightly off the chair as his touch set your nerves alight with pleasure.
"But don't worry, sweetheart," he purred, voice low and rough with desire. "I'll make sure you enjoy every. Single. Moment."
To punctuate his words, he leaned down and captured your lips in another devastating kiss. This one deeper, more demanding, his tongue delving into your mouth to claim you thoroughly. He swallowed your gasps and moans, drinking them down like wine.
As he kissed you, his hands continued their exploration. They slid higher, until his fingers were brushing against the lace of your panties. He could feel the damp heat of you through the silk, evidence of just how much you wanted him. How much you needed his touch.
Anakin broke the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat. He nipped and sucked at the sensitive skin, his hands pushed your panties aside, and then his fingers were there. Stroking through your slick folds, feeling the evidence of your arousal coating his digits.
"Stars, baby," he groaned against your neck, fingers delving deeper. "You're so wet. So ready for me."
He circled your clit with the pads of his fingers, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you write against him. His other hand slid up to palm your breast, kneading the soft mound and rolling your nipple between his fingers until it pebbled under his touch.
Anakin could feel the need building in you, the desperation in the way you rocked your hips against his hand. He knew you were close, could feel your body tensing and tightening as he worked you higher.
"Come for me, baby," he commanded, voice a low, rough growl. "Come on my fingers like a good girl."
He thrust two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars exploding behind your eyelids. His thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
"Let go, sweetheart," he urged, voice hot against your ear. "I want to feel you come undone. I want to feel you squeeze my fingers like I make you mine."
And with a sharp cry, you did just that. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your inner walls clenching and fluttering as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you. Anakin worked you through it, fingers pumping and stroking, until the last aftershock faded away.
He pulled his fingers from her, bringing them to his lips to suck them clean. His eyes locked with yours as he did, a smug, satisfied grin on his face.
"Not bad for a Jedi," You gasped out, still trembling from the force of you release. "But I think... I think you're still wearing too many clothes."
Anakin chuckled, a dark, wicked sound. "Patience, sweetheart," he murmured, fingers trailing down your body teasingly. "We're just getting started..."
And with that promise hanging in the air, he leaned down to capture your lips once more. Ready to show you just how thorough his exploration of you body could be. No matter how long it took. No matter how many times he had to make you come undone, Anakin was willing to turn you into a hot, messy mess under his ministrations, wanting to wipe that teasing smile off your face, and make sure that this time he was in control, even if it was in control of your pleasure.
WARNINGS: none, just cuteness!
WORDS: +800
A/N: hello dear people, my tiktok is full of Hayden, literally one video after another, not that i'm complaining, quite the opposite, the more the better 🎀 so, i decided to let my imagination run wild with some really cozy and cute headcanons of Hayden being a boyfriend. i hope you like it, comments, likes and reblogs make my day 💕💕My inbox is always open for requests and ideas 💌🧸 DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune
Boyfriend! Hayden always holds your hand. It's never a question. Whether you’re weaving through a grocery store, walking the dog, or arriving at a premiere, he instinctively reaches for you. His larger hand envelopes yours, thumb gently tracing along your knuckles. To him, it’s more than just affection—it’s a quiet way of saying “you’re with me.”
Boyfriend! Hayden makes a point of not smoking near you because he knows it bothers you. If he does step out for one, he walks comically far away—like across the yard or half a block down. You roll your eyes, tug him back by the sleeve. “I’m not made of glass,” you say. He grins, still positioning himself downwind, always putting you first without needing to be asked.
Boyfriend! Hayden gets up earlier just to make you coffee—real, fresh, hot coffee. If it’s a stressful day ahead, he swaps it for tea, gently setting it on your nightstand with a quiet, “Try this today. It’s better for your nerves.” You grumble, half-awake, but sip it anyway. He’s already back in the kitchen, packing you a snack, pretending he’s not quietly fussing over you.
Boyfriend! Hayden who always buys drinks you like, because he knows you’ll take his anyway. “I got us orange juice,” he says with a subtle smirk, holding out a glass as you eye his like a thief caught red-handed. He always anticipates you—and he kind of loves that you steal from him.
Boyfriend! Hayden gives the kind of hugs that reset your nervous system. Full-body, grounding hugs—arms around your waist, chin on your shoulder, slow breath syncing with yours. Whether you’re anxious, excited, or tired, his hugs say “I’ve got you.” Sometimes he kneels beside your chair just to wrap you up, like nothing else matters more.
Boyfriend! Hayden lives for quiet days in bed. Blankets, takeout, a half-watched documentary humming in the background. You’ll lie tangled up for hours, limbs draped over each other, swapping theories about the universe one minute, then debating what kind of pasta to make the next. There’s no pressure to be “on.” Just the warmth of being together.
Boyfriend! Hayden loves when you link arms with him during walks—especially at the farmers market. His hand rests lightly on yours, fingers curling in as you browse produce, plan lunch, or just stroll aimlessly. In crowded places, it keeps you both grounded—like a quiet anchor in the noise.
Boyfriend! Hayden melts when you rest your head on his shoulder, burying your nose into his neck. His instinct is to lean into you, even if his neck ends up sore from the angle. “Worth it,” he mutters with a little smile, every time. Because nothing feels safer than your weight pressed gently into him.
Boyfriend! Hayden has a habit of falling asleep on your chest like it’s his personal pillow. The rhythm of your heartbeat lulls him down like a lullaby. Sometimes his arm drapes over your waist, his breath warm against your collarbone. You stroke his hair, feeling him completely let go in your presence.
Boyfriend! Hayden has a habit of playing with your fingers absentmindedly. During car rides, movie nights, even in silence, you’ll feel his thumb brushing along your knuckles or tracing shapes against your palm. It’s subtle, grounding, a gentle little way of staying connected.
Boyfriend! Hayden always warms your side of the bed if you’re late getting in. He slides over to your half, pulls the blanket up high, and makes sure it's toasty when you finally crawl in. “Perfect timing,” he’ll say, shuffling back to his side. “It’s preheated.”
Boyfriend! Hayden hums while cooking. Not full-on singing, just soft little hums under his breath as he stirs something on the stove. When you walk into the kitchen and wrap your arms around his back, he leans into you without missing a beat, still humming.
Boyfriend! Hayden always notices when you’re overstimulated in public. Whether it’s flashing lights, loud noise, or too many people, he’ll gently squeeze your hand and guide you somewhere quieter without making a big deal out of it. His presence is like a calm barrier between you and the chaos.
Boyfriend! Hayden keeps one of your hair ties on his wrist. You didn’t ask him to, but he always seems to have it when you need it—whether you're cooking, cleaning, or caught in the wind. “Here,” he says, holding it out like a secret weapon. “Told you I’d remember.”
Boyfriend! Hayden always leaves his sweatshirts where you can find them—draped over the couch, folded at the foot of the bed, or tossed casually in your chair. He knows you love stealing them. He wants you to. Seeing you wrapped in his oversized hoodie, sleeves dangling past your hands, makes something soft flicker in his chest. It’s not just about the comfort—it’s the quiet thrill of knowing his scent is clinging to your skin, that you chose his clothes like a second hug.
Boyfriend! Hayden kisses your forehead like it’s second nature. Not just when you’re tired or sad—but in the kitchen while you’re cooking, in line at the store, or when you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe. His lips linger a little longer than necessary, like he’s silently saying, you’re my favorite person.
Boyfriend! Hayden writes little notes when he knows you’re having a hard week. Slipped into your bag, stuck on the mirror, tucked into your notebook. Simple things like “You’ve got this,” or “Proud of you.” Once, you found a doodle of small lightsabers crossed and hearts above them. You kept that one in your wallet.
Boyfriend! Hayden slow dances with you in the living room at night, even if there’s no music. You’ll be cleaning up dinner or getting ready for bed when he suddenly pulls you close, one hand on your waist, the other lacing through your fingers. “Just for a minute,” he says with a soft smile. You end up swaying for five.
Boyfriend! Hayden kisses your hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world. When you’re talking, when you’re reading, even when you’re arguing—he’ll lift your hand and brush his lips against it. It’s old-fashioned, yes, but it melts you every time. It’s the way he does it—gentle, grounding, like he’s reminding himself you’re real.
Boyfriend! Hayden calls you “my lovely girl” in that quiet, low voice that always makes your heart skip. He doesn’t overuse it—just drops it in when he’s introducing you, or when he’s looking at you across the room like he still can’t believe you’re his. And the way he says it? Like he means it. Like there’s no one else it could ever be.
YOU’RE THE ONLY THING THAT I GOT RIGHT - JAMES KELLY X YOU
SYNOPSIS: James always believed he was doomed to destroy everything good in his life. But then there was you—too good, too kind. You stayed through the mess, even when he tried to push you away. The night before the heist, he comes to you, unsure if he'll make it out alive. He doesn’t ask for forgiveness… but he asks to be held one last time.
WARNINGS: angst
WORDS: 785
A/N: Hi loves of my life, how are you? I love James, he's so suffering poor thing, every time I watch the movie I want to pick him up and never let go🤧😔❤️🩹So, basically, I wrote what I would like to do, anyway I hope you like it, comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated 🩷🩷🩷 And requests are open, please, ask!! DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune
When I take a look at my life and all of my crimes
You're the only thing that I think I got right
I'll never give you away 'Cause
I already made, already made that mistake
You were curled up on the living room couch, already in your pajamas, balancing your laptop on a pillow while your fingers raced over the keys. The sales spreadsheets for the small grocery store where you worked blurred together, the numbers twisting into knots the longer you stared at them.
Your hair was piled into a messy bun — half from comfort, half from the hundred times you’d run your fingers through it out of frustration. A forgotten mug of coffee sat half-full on the table, gone cold hours ago. Takeout burger wrappers were scattered across the surface, your half-eaten sandwich abandoned next to crumpled napkins and a mess of sauce packets.
You barely heard the knock at the door over your headphones, only catching the second round thanks to the ad flashing across your laptop screen. Frowning, you shoved the pillow aside and padded barefoot to the door, wondering who would show up this close to midnight.
When you cracked it open, your heart twisted.
James stood there, hunched slightly like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back. His dark hoodie hung loose around his frame, grease-stained jeans rumpled and dusty. His face was drawn, his blue eyes a storm of anxiety and something softer — something broken.
You didn’t hesitate. You reached for him.
Wordlessly, James let you pull him inside, his body heavy with exhaustion. He dropped onto the couch where you’d been working, elbows braced on his knees, hands scrubbing at the worn denim on his thighs as if trying to wipe away something invisible.
“What happened, James?” you asked gently, kneeling in front of him, your hands hovering just shy of his trembling ones.
“Nothing you need to worry about, sweetie,” he said, the edges of his southern drawl curling around the words, soft but strained.
You didn’t believe him. You knew him too well. You could see the chaos crashing behind his tired eyes.
“James,” you whispered, your voice full of quiet insistence, “is it about Frank? Did he… force you into something again?”
Your lips parted to say more, but he reached out, brushing his thumb over your mouth in a silent plea. “Not tonight, baby,” he murmured, voice cracking. “I don’t wanna talk. I just—” His chest heaved. “I just need you.”
The words cracked something open in you.
Without hesitation, you climbed onto the couch beside him, fitting yourself against his side until your thighs touched. "I'm here, James. Always," you promised.
He let out a shuddering breath, turning to press his face into your chest, arms snaking around your waist like you were the only thing keeping him alive. His fingers clutched at the fabric of your pajama shirt like he was afraid you’d slip away.
“I know,” he whispered thickly. “That’s the problem.”
You didn't push for more. You knew better. You simply gathered him close, threading your fingers into his messy dark hair and stroking soothing lines across his scalp, cradling him with an almost maternal tenderness.
Softly, you began to hum — an old lullaby your grandmother used to sing, letting the quiet vibrations anchor him. His body slowly melted into yours, the tension bleeding out of him little by little, though you could feel the slight tremors still running through him.
You didn’t flinch when you felt the warmth of his tears soaking through your shirt. You didn’t tell him to stop. You just held him tighter, pressing kisses to his hair, to his forehead, to any piece of him you could reach without pulling him from the shelter of your arms.
After a long while, your lips brushed the shell of his ear. “Do you want to go to bed, baby?” you offered softly, rubbing small circles against his back.
James shook his head, a muffled, broken sound escaping him. "Nah," he whispered hoarsely, "don’t wanna move… don’t wanna be away from you."
Your heart cracked wide open.
“It’s okay, baby,” you murmured, rocking him slightly. “We can stay right here. As long as you need.”
Slowly, James lifted his head, blinking up at you with raw vulnerability laid bare across his face. You cupped his cheek, your thumb brushing away the lingering salt tracks on his skin.
He leaned forward, brushing a soft, desperate kiss against your lips — a silent prayer, a plea for forgiveness he didn’t know how to ask for yet. You answered by kissing him back, gently but firmly, pouring all your love and reassurance into that one moment.
If tomorrow he had to walk into hell, you would make sure that tonight — at least tonight — he would know what it felt to be in heaven, to be safe, to be loved without condition.
SYNOPSIS: Your car stalls at a traffic light and panic starts to creep in — but lucky for you, your sweet boyfriend Hayden is right there to get you back on track.
WARNINGS: None! Just pure fluff and boyfriend Hayden being the most patient angel ever.
WORDS: 431
A/N: hiiiii loves!! ✨ hope you're doing amazing today!! so funny story — I was giving a friend a ride and totally stalled the car at a traffic light and she was so sweet and calming about it. and I thought, you know what?? this feels like something Hayden would do. so I whipped this up! hope you love it as much as I loved writing it!! comments, likes & reblogs make my day as always!! alsooo my requests are always open if you wanna send in something!! love youuuu ✨🚗💕 DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune
“It’s okay, darling. It’s okay,” Hayden’s voice cut through the noise like a shooting melody, calm and steady, his hand resting lightly on your thigh to ground you.
You exhaled a shaky breath, blinking at the sea of impatient drivers behind you. You had only gotten your license a few months ago, and every trip still felt like a test you weren’t sure you could pass. You usually stuck to the safe routes—home, college, Hayden’s place. No surprises. No room for mistakes.
But today you wanted to be brave. You wanted to try something new. A cute little ice cream shop across town had been calling your name, and Hayden, being Hayden, had smiled and climbed into the passenger seat without a second thought.
Now here you were—stuck at a busy intersection, stalling the engine for the second time in a row, your palms sweating against the steering wheel.
“They’re honking,” you whispered, your voice tight, frustration and embarrassment bubbling up.
Hayden didn’t even glance at the cars behind you. Instead, he leaned over, rolling the windows up with a quiet click. Shutting out the world, just for you.
“Let them honk,” he said gently, his voice low and reassuring. “There’s no rush. Close your eyes with me for a second. Just breathe.”
You hesitated, but the soft insistence in his tone made you obey. You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply, feeling the tension slowly drain from your body. Hayden’s thumb stroked a slow, calming pattern against your leg, anchoring you.
When you turned the key again, the engine roared to life without hesitation. You pulled away from the light, finding a quieter street where the traffic thinned and the pressure eased.
Hayden stayed silent until you were steady again, until the world didn’t feel so loud.
“You can move to the next lane when you’re ready, love,” he said, flashing you a proud smile. “It’ll be easier to get into the parking lot from there. You did amazing, babe”
You signaled, switching lanes carefully.
“You’re just saying that because you’re my boyfriend,” you mumbled, still pouting, cheeks warm from the adrenaline.
He chuckled, that soft, fond sound you loved so much. “No, I’m saying it because it’s true. Be kinder to yourself, darling. Every little win counts.”
You glanced at him, heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice.
And in that moment — with Hayden’s hand warm over yours, his faith wrapping around you like a warm blanket — you realized you could go anywhere. As long as he was by your side, even the open road didn’t feel so scary.
HEADCANONS: HAYDEN CHRISTENSEN X FIRST ROLE ACTRESS! READER
WARNING: none just cuteness
WORDS: 1.1k
A/N: Hello my loves!!! It’s been a little while since I posted a headcanon, but in a slightly belated celebration of Hayden’s birthday, I put together some soft and sparkly ideas about what it would be like to have him as your coworker on your very first acting job 🎬I hope you enjoy it lots!! 💕
Likes, comments, and reblogs truly make my day and keep me inspired to keep writing 🌈📩 Alsooo~ don’t be shy! My inbox is always open for requests and ideas 💌🧸 I love love love hearing from you 💭 DIVIDERS BY @cafekitsune
When you got the chance to audition for a new Star Wars series focused on Darth Vader training a Sith apprentice while struggling under Palpatine’s control, you didn’t just prepare—you obsessed. The prequels were your favorite, and Anakin had always been your soft spot. So when the opportunity came to not only be part of Star Wars but possibly act with Hayden Christensen, it felt like your entire childhood lining up with your dreams.
The audition day was pure nerves. You sat stiff in the waiting area, trying to remember every calming technique you’d ever read about—breathing exercises, visualizations, even tapping your fingertips to distract yourself. When your name was finally called, your heart was pounding, but you slipped into character and let go. The moment you walked out, you couldn’t recall a single line. But somehow, you knew—you’d given it your all.
A few days later, you got the email for a chemistry read with Hayden. You actually screamed. Loud. Into your pillow. When he walked into the room, tall and calm and giving that quiet smile to everyone, even the PA refilling water bottles, your heart jumped. “I’m Hayden,” he said, stepping toward you, his voice warm. “You must be Y/N, right?” You nodded, cheeks warm, slipping your hand into his. His grip was firm, gentle—steady. You felt your nerves ease instantly.
After landing the role, you dove into training before scripts even arrived. Your first lightsaber sessions were hilariously bad. You smacked your own head. Twice. But you kept showing up, bruises and all. Two months in, Hayden joined you. He watched your movements with kind eyes, then asked, “So, how much of a Sith are you now?” You laughed, slightly out of breath. “I’ve got the bruises, so... halfway there?” He chuckled. “That’s more than most.”
Training with him quickly became your favorite part of the day. He was patient, goofy, and shockingly down-to-earth. He showed you his signature spin move—the fast back-swing from Revenge of the Sith. When he stood behind you, gently guiding your hands with his, you couldn’t help but feel the butterflies. You tried it. And failed. Three times. On the third, you tripped over his boot and both of you hit the mat. The silence was broken by his laugh—loud and genuine. He wrapped an arm around you as you sat up, breathless. “You’ll get it,” he grinned. “And we’ll make it look epic.”
You shared the same dressing area for hair and makeup—though his call time was always hours before yours. Vader’s scars took time. You’d come in with a coffee in hand and find him half-asleep in the makeup chair, prosthetics half-done, mumbling, “Mornin’... you brought the good coffee?” You always did.
Your Sith apprentice costume was sleek, practical, with tight black pants, armored vest, and a flowing cape. Meanwhile, Hayden’s Vader suit was brutal—hot, stiff, and heavy. So you made it your mission to help. Juice boxes, water bottles, a mini fan in your tote—you were his unofficial handler. “You’re gonna owe me a coffee sponsorship, deal?” you teased once, holding a straw up to his helmet. “Deal,” he said, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind the mask.
One day, you begged him to let you try on the Vader helmet. “Just for a second, please?” He looked hesitant. “It’s heavier than it looks.” You waved him off and slipped it on—and nearly tipped over. “Oh my god,” you gasped, staggering under the weight. Hayden jumped forward, steadying you with both hands. “Told you,” he said with a grin. “Maybe you should listen to me next time.” You gave him a sheepish thumbs-up from inside the massive helmet.
After every take—every single one—Hayden would find you and say something kind. “You crushed that,” or “Your delivery was perfect.” Even if the scene was only a few seconds. It made you feel seen. Like you belonged. And that mattered.
Filming days were long, especially on location. Every night, you and Hayden would end up in one of your trailers or hotel rooms, sharing takeout and debriefing. Sometimes you’d learn about the place you were filming in—local food, weird trivia. Sometimes you just laughed until your stomach hurt. If there wasn’t an early call, you shared a beer or a glass of wine, always with music in the background and feet propped up.
During a grueling quarry shoot, you finished your scene and curled up on a mattress in the shade. When you woke up, Hayden was crouched nearby, trying (and failing) to quietly eat a bag of chips. His eyes went wide when he saw you stirring, chip halfway in his mouth. You both stared. Then burst out laughing. “Sorry,” he mumbled with cheeks full. “I got hungry.”
On crew buses between sets, it became an unspoken rule: your seat was beside his. He’d open his arms without a word, letting you rest your head against his chest. If he was tired too, he’d rest his cheek on top of your head. Sometimes you woke up still leaning on him, the world outside flying by.
You developed a superpower: falling asleep anywhere. Under tables, on chairs, even leaning against prop crates. One day Hayden found you curled up beneath the main set of Vader’s Fortress. “She’s doing her Sith meditation,” he joked to a crew member. But a few days later, you caught him asleep on the floor next to you, head on your arm, you smiled.
You and Hayden developed a running bit where every time you messed up a take, he’d dramatically whisper, “You’ve failed me for the last time,” in his Vader voice. It always made you laugh too hard to stay embarrassed. The crew started catching on, and even the director played along once with, “Cut. And... Vader disapproves.”
During one of your first big duel scenes, you swung too hard and knocked Hayden’s saber clean out of his hand. The set went dead silent until he looked at you, deadpan. “That was... impressive. Terrifying, but impressive.” From that day on, he jokingly called you “the real Chosen One.”
At night, sometimes you’d set up a little laptop and watch old Star Wars films together. You had questions about the lore, and Hayden loved nerding out with you, explaining little behind-the-scenes stories. “You know that scene on Mustafar? I had to wear red-yellow contact lenses and a wig. That heat was no joke.” You’d grin, eyes wide. “And now you’re back—still surviving lava planets.”
On the final day, you tried to keep it together. Everyone was emotional, but you felt it heavier than most—it had been your first real job, and Hayden had been such a grounding presence. After your last take, he walked over, hugged you tight, and whispered, “You’re a star, Y/N. You made this story better.” Later that night, he handed you a small gift: a silver pendant shaped like a tiny lightsaber. “To remind you where your journey began.”
TAG LIST: @ihearthayden @anakinstwinklebunny @sometimescharlolette @awhhayden @dessxoxsworld @throughparisallthroughrome
WARNING: +18, male masturbation, structural sexism, patient-doctor relationship, misinterpretation of a treatment for erectile dysfunction, mention of cheating
WORDS: 1.5k
A/N: hiii, people of this world, I'm so excited to see Rots in the theatre movies, yeahhhh, I already bought the tickets, I'm so anxious ;) this is that oneshot that I ask for votes on whether or not I should write, and well, I'm divided on the result. 💗 On one hand, as a student in the health field, fetishism sucks, but I tried to do it in a way that was more 'natural', or more about being attracted to a different person... I don't know, I hope you guys don't hate it so much, anyway, if you want to comment, like or reblog I always appreciate it a lot✨
Anakin Skywalker was 43 years old, with a job most people would envy. He was the head of Skywalker Motors — a high-end racing company known across the country for its speed and style. He had everything he thought he needed: success, stability, two grown kids in college, and a marriage built on love and resilience.
But lately, something had changed.
It wasn’t sudden. It crept in slowly, like rust on an old speeder. At first, it was just a moment. A quiet evening when things didn’t quite “work,” and he brushed it off. Stress. Maybe too much coffee. Padmé hadn’t seemed bothered — she’d kissed him softly and whispered, “It’s okay, Ani. We’re not teenagers anymore.”
But it happened again. And again.
And suddenly, it wasn’t just a physical problem. It was in his head — a storm of self-doubt. He found himself avoiding intimacy. He stopped flirting with Padmé at breakfast like he used to. He began overthinking everything. “What’s wrong with me?” he wondered. “I’m healthy. I work out. I eat right. I’m not even 50.”
His pride took a hit. It wasn’t just about sex — it was about feeling less than. Less like himself. Less like a man.
He started searching for answers online. Pages and pages of articles with words like “erectile dysfunction,” “aging male,” “performance anxiety,” and “Viagra.” He thought about ordering something in secret, but Padmé stopped him gently. “Maybe talk to someone before you jump to pills,” she said, placing her hand over his. “You don’t have to go through this alone.”
He didn’t argue. After twenty years of marriage, he knew better. He made an appointment… in a city far from home. No way was anyone from work or the neighborhood finding out. He wasn’t ready for those conversations.
And that’s how he ended up sitting stiffly in a navy blue chair in a bright, quiet office with tall windows overlooking Manhattan.
When you walked into the room — warm smile, pink dress, clipboard in hand — Anakin nearly sank into the chair like a malfunctioning protocol droid. He had been expecting a male doctor. Talking about this with a woman? Impossible.
“Mr. Skywalker?” you said, your voice kind, completely unfazed by his discomfort. “It’s good to meet you. I know this kind of visit can be a little uncomfortable, so we’ll just take things at your pace.”
He cleared his throat. “It’s… not what I expected.”
“I get that a lot,” you said with a small smile. “But I promise, you’re not alone. And you’re not broken.”
Something about the way you said it — like it wasn’t just a line — made him exhale.
You talked. He explained what had been happening. Or not happening. He stumbled over words, flushed at times, made awkward jokes. But you listened. You nodded. You didn’t rush him. You helped him understand that what he was experiencing was common, especially for men in his age group. That it didn’t make him any less of a partner, a man, or a person. That sometimes, stress, changing hormones, mental health, or simply the passage of time can affect things.
“That doesn’t mean it’s the end,” you said gently. “It just means your body is asking you to listen a little more closely.”
Anakin rubbed the back of his neck. “So it’s not… permanent?”
“Not at all. There are lots of options — some medical, some psychological, some that involve working with your partner. And you’ve already taken the most important step, which is asking for help.”
Anakin leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped tightly together as he processed his words. His blue eyes met yours, searching, hopeful.
“So what do you recommend first?” He asked, voice low. He was still getting used to the idea that this wasn't a permanent condition, that there were options and solutions. That he wasn't broken.
You smiled reassuringly, setting the clipboard down on the desk beside you. "Well, let's start with some lifestyle changes. Regular exercise, a healthy diet, stress management techniques. We can discuss some medications and supplements that might help as well. But the most important thing is open communication with your partner."
Anakin nodded, absorbing it all. His eyes flickered down to your face, then back up to meet your gaze. He noticed the way your curls fell softly around your shoulders, the bright of your eyes that reminded him of the summer sky back home in Toronto. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of attraction, but pushed it down. This was a professional setting, after all.
"And uh, what about... physical therapy?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation focused on the task at hand. Though the way you spoke, the gentle authority in your voice, the kindness in your eyes... it was strangely alluring.
You nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Absolutely. Kegel exercises can help strengthen the pelvic floor muscles. I can show you how to do them properly. And there are other techniques we can practice together to improve blood flow and sensitivity."
Anakin swallowed hard, trying to ignore the sudden tightness in his slacks. He couldn't believe he was discussing this with such a young, beautiful woman. It felt wrong, but also thrilling. He shook his head slightly, trying to clear the thought.
"I see," he said gruffly. "And you'll... guide me through all of this?"
You nodded, your smile warm and encouraging. "Of course. I'm here for you every step of the way, Mr. Skywalker. We'll take this at your pace, and I promise, things will get better."
Anakin felt a rush of gratitude, and something else he couldn't quite name. He stood up slowly, towering over you in your office. He extended a large, veiny hand towards you.
"Thank you, doctor," he said softly. "I look forward to working with you."
As you shook his hand, Anakin couldn't help but notice the softness of your skin, the warmth of your touch. He knew right then and there, he was going to enjoy these sessions very much indeed.
•••
Anakin stood in the sterile bathroom of the clinic, his heart pounding in his chest as he gripped the cold porcelain sink. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, taking in the lines etched around his blue eyes, the slight gray at his temples. At 43, he was still a handsome man, but the weight of his recent struggles was written all over his face.
He thought back to his last session with you, the way your curls bounced softly as you spoke, the gentle authority in your voice as you guided him through breathing exercises and Kegel techniques. He had felt a stirring then, a flicker of desire that he hadn't experienced in months. It was a relief, but also a betrayal.
Anakin's hand shook slightly as he unbuckled his expensive leather belt, letting his tailored slacks pool around his ankles. He knew this was wrong, that he was crossing a line. You were his doctor, his guide back to sexual health and confidence. But you were also a beautiful young woman, with a kind smile and a gentle touch that set his skin ablaze.
He gripped himself through the fabric of his silk boxers, marveling at the hardness he found there. It was a sensation he had almost forgotten, the find of arousal, the desperate need for release. He thought of Padmé, his wife of twenty years, and felt a pang of guilt. But he also thought of you, of the way your uniform hugged your curves, the flash of your smile, and he couldn't stop himself.
He imagined you walking in, seeing him like this. He imagined you surprise turning to intrigue, to arousal. He imagined you joining him, sinking to your knees, taking him into your soft mouth... He imagined the way you would look up at him with those pretty eyes, the sound of your gentle voice encouraging him, praising him.
Anakin's breath came faster, his hips rocking into his own touch as he chased his pleasure. He knew this was wrong, that he was cheating Padmé, his wife, the mother of his children. But he couldn't stop. He needed this, craved this sensation, this release.
With a low groan, he came undone, his seed spurting forth, coating his hand inside the clinical toilet. He gripped the sink tighter, his body shuddering with the force of his orgasm. It was intense, overwhelming, a flood of sensation he hadn't experienced in far too long.
As he caught his breath, Anakin looked at his reflection again, seeing the flush on his cheeks, the guilt and shame in his eyes. He knew he had a long road ahead, not just in terms of his sexual health, but in terms of his marriage, his conscience. But in that moment, he couldn't regret the pleasure he had found, the desire you had sparked in him.
Anakin cleaned himself up, tucked his shirt back into his slacks, and stepped out of the bathroom. He knew he would have to face you again, to continue these sessions, and he both dreaded and anticipated it with every fiber of his being.
