If Anakin's lines look a little weird, I actually don't know what to do about that. Click for better quality, I really hope that fixes it if you do, I don't know why it looks like that it looks completely fine everywhere else. And nevermind, it's all good. Depending on the phone you have though, if you screenshot Anakin, he's gonna look really red and I don't know why or how to fix that and skjgkjknnnjffnfkdhsjaajsksjdjdj-ugh, anyway. Enjoy!
you're used to only calling or being called by anakin late at night, when you both need to blow off a little steam. you've known him for a few months, after a one night stand turned into a consistent hookup. you like him, sure, but you've trained yourself to avoid attachment. he's asked you to spend the night, but you always refuse. he's offered to take you out to dinner, but you always eat before you go over. you don't reply to his texts unless they're come over. and he's gotten the hang of it now; your boundaries.
you don't know that much about him really. his name, his age, and that he's a mechanic. it's not that you don't care, you just know that if you get too close to him, it opens things up to being hurtful when they end. but on a night that's otherwise uneventful, on the way home from a late dinner with friends, your car starts pulling to the left. you ignore it as long as you can, until you're sure that there's a real cause for concern. turning the radio down, a vile flapping noise makes itself known, coming from the front left tire.
no, please no you whisper, pulling quickly to the shoulder of the road, starting to panic. it's an empty backroad, late at night, with a flat tire. there's not many situations that can elicit more panic from a woman alone. thinking through your options, you realize there's only one that makes sense. you don't have roadside assistance, or a brother you can call, your dad lives hours away. anakin is the only option besides leaving the car and ubering. despite there being no phone calls between the two of you prior, he answers on the second ring.
hey, you good? he asks.
i'm fine, look, i'm sorry to call you but, uh, i have a flat tire. i didn't know what else to do you explain, awkwardly torn between humiliation and fear. a car speeds past you, making you gasp a little, having not seen it coming.
send me your location, i'll get in the car now. you alright? you sound off he presses, and you can hear that he's set the phone down, and some rustling around. like he's jumped up off the couch and is hurrying to your aid.
i'm okay, just a little freaked out to be honest. kinda a horror movie situation i'm in right now you laugh dryly, and put him on speaker so you can text him your current location, silently thanking the universe that you have full service.
lock the doors, i'm only ten minutes away, alright? he instructs, and you horrifyingly realize not only are the doors unlocked, but your back windows are still rolled down - due to it being a hot summer night in a car with no working AC. you quickly correct this.
okay, they're locked. i'll see you soon you say, and hang up, instantly wishing you would've stayed on the phone with him for some form of comfort. but he's right, and it only takes barely ten minutes for a pair of headlights to pull up behind you, along with a text that says don't panic, it's me behind you lol which gives you permission to exhale, and relax a little. you cautiously get out of the car, checking to make sure no cars are gonna speed by and take you out, and meet him between your rear bumper and his front one.
i'm glad you called he says, pulling you to his chest for a rare hug, and you embrace him back, relishing in his warmth.
thank you so much for coming, i appreciate it. you say, pulling away and looking down.
you can always call me for car stuff, or for anything really. but you know what i mean, he clears his throat, rocking back on his heels. i'm around ya know, so... he trails off like he knows he's said too much, but you just laugh and shake your head.
i know, thank you. you walk with him to the scene of the flat tire, that turns out to be more shredded than just flat, once his flashlight is illuminating it.
christ. alright, i'll put your spare on, go sit in my car alright? he nods back towards his car, handing you his keys.
i don't have a spare? you say, tilting your head. he rolls his head back and sighs heavily.
gorgeous, are you sure? why not? he asks, eyes still up towards the stars, you can almost see him going through anger management training in his head so he doesn't belittle you.
i've never bought one or anything you shrug, knowing absolutely nothing about this. now he laughs, a big laugh. and looks down at you, leaning in to kiss you through his laughter, which you return, albeit confused.
they come with the car. go sit your ass in my car he instructs again, and this time you listen, hearing him chuckle as you turn and walk away. the headlights of his car and his flashlight illuminate his work, giving you a decent view of his toned arms, and his concentrated face while he takes off the wasted tire and replaces it with the temporary one. he does it quickly, even though you'd be happy to watch him work a little longer. you make a mental note to pop in and see him at the shop one day, maybe even after closing when you'd have it to yourselves. after he's done, he walks up to the window and gestures for you to roll it down.
all good? you ask.
it's all good, pretty one. you drive my car and i'll drive yours, i don't want you to have to drive with that thing. it's makin me nervous he says, leaning down and rubbing your thigh through the open window.
well we're not going to the same place you smirk, knowing full well you are, without it being said.
yeah like hell we aren't. follow me he laughs, leaning down and turning your head towards his by your cheek, kissing you quickly before walking back to your poor car.
you follow his careful and slow driving back to his place, but the air is different. it's not desperate, it doesn't have a one track mind. he doesn't take your clothes off the second you walk in the door; he offers you a snack and a hoodie, which you take.
i really appreciate you comin to the rescue, ani. thank you you tell him, the hood of his hoodie pulled over your messy hair.
it's really no problem. always good to get some more practice changing tires he sits on his couch, and you instinctively sit next to him, hesitating for a moment before curling into his side, letting him wrap his arm around you. sleep over he says against the top of your head.
no, i should go home tonight you mumble, adjusting so you can meet his eyes.
it's saturday, you don't need to be anywhere tomorrow. we'll take the car to the tire shop tomorrow and get you a new one. he argues back, tone sweet.
maybe. you cave a little. but you do feel sleepy, and he is so warm. when he gets up to go to bed about an hour later, and extends his hand to you, you take it, and go with him. and fully clothed, you sleep in his bed, finding that it's more inviting and comfortable than you could've imagined.
you thought your car could make it through the day. when it started making strange noises upon starting it last week, you ignored it, not wanting to deal with it. when it got worse this morning and it struggled to get above 40 miles an hour, your only hope was making it through the day, knowing you could make an appointment to have it checked out once your paycheck hits your account. but driving home now, it's rattling it's squealing, it's seconds away from breaking down. you groan and smack the steering wheel as you pull to the shoulder.
you piece of shit! you yell at the car, face hot in frustration. it's been a week from hell at work, this is just the cherry on top. you quickly type in a search for auto shops near you, and the closest one makes your stomach churn: skywalker auto. you roll your eyes hard and rest your head on the headrest for a moment, fighting the urge to scream. you've known anakin skywalker for years, been in the same friend groups. you've never been his biggest fan, and he's never been yours. from the first moment you met, something about him just rubbed you the wrong way. he's arrogant, and he holds a grudge. and you're stubborn, and find his grip on his pride embarrassing. the thought of needing help from him makes you feel sick, but the next nearest shop is three times the distance, and you know your old car will not make it. so against your better judgement, you put it back in drive, and crawl the half a mile to the shop, car protesting the whole way.
it's past 6 when you arrive, which is when the shop closes, but you see anakin's motorcycle out front, so you park in front of the closed garage door, and walk around to the man-door on the side, knocking loudly.
we're closed! you hear anakin yell out, making you even more angry.
anakin! please! you shout back through the door. you wait impatiently, and finally - the door opens. he's wearing baggy black pants and filthy white t shirt, with a hat turned backwards on his head - and of course, wearing his signature pissed off expression, that only softens the tiniest bit when he realizes it's you standing there.
y/n? what do you need? he asks, wiping his hands on a rag, and leaning against the doorframe.
my dumbass car gave up on me. i didn't have a choice, it wouldn't have made it to another shop. i know you're closed, can you just look at it? you plead, unable to look at him in the eye while you are forced to swallow your pride and ask him for help.
and why the fuck would you want to take it to another shop? he asks, and you scowl at him. that's the part he's focused on? i'll open the door and pull it in. he adds, sighing. it's friday, you know he probably wants to go home, and he's sacrificing for you, but he doesn't give you a chance to say thank you before he closes the door in your face. when the big door is opened, you start to get in your car, but he walks over and stops you, silently holding out his hand for your keys. you want to argue, but you just hand them over. he winces at the noise when it starts, almost making you laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation. once it's parked on the car lift, you walk into the shop, and pull yourself up to sit on a toolbox.
how long has it been making that god awful sound? he asks, grabbing some sort of electronic device.
like a week, but it got worse this morning. doesn't wanna go faster than like 40, pissing me off you grumble, swinging your legs back and forth. his eyes almost pop out of his head.
a week!? he exclaims. this thing is ready to blow the fuck up, are you crazy? he asks, laughing in disbelief. your face flushes red and you let go of your anger a little.
i'm sorry! i don't know shit about cars, i thought it would be fine until i get paid next! you defend yourself, holding your hands up. he fiddles with the device, squatting down next to the driver's side.
i'm fairly certain this thing could’ve caught on fire at any second, you should've called me the moment it started doing this. he gets stern now, staring at you with his eyes that could make anyone do anything - even you if he really tried. you sarcastically salute him, and watch silently while he does his thing. his movements are gibberish to you, grabbing different things, raising the car on the lift and going under it, but he's hypnotizing. you could scroll on your phone, or get an uber home, but you're stuck in your spot. even when he walks over and gently pushes your leg out of his way to access one of the drawers, you can't take your eyes off of him. he pauses to meet your eyes, and only then can you peel yours away.
y'have somethin to say? he asks, raising an eyebrow, a cocky smirk on his lips. you study the scar on his face, never having been this close to it before.
nope. you say back, mimicking his expression. he chuckles and walks back to the car, working for another few minutes before sighing in defeat.
bad news girl. i'm gonna have to order a part, it's not gonna be drivable. i'll order it tonight and it should get here monday. he tells you, a rare apologetic look on his face. you put your head in your hands.
goddammit. okay, well, thank you for checking it out. i'll call an uber. you say, knowing your bank account is gonna feel this sorely.
nah, i'll give you a ride. you're on my way home anyway he waves you off, grabbing his phone, helmet, jacket, and wallet from the counter, and leading the way out of the shop.
there's no chance in hell i'm getting on that thing, thanks though you laugh dryly, pointing towards his bike. you know the dumb shit he does on it, the death wish he seems to have, and you have no desire to be apart of it.
yes you are, you're not getting an uber. i won't let anything bad happen. he commands. your brain is screaming at you not to, but your feet start to follow him over to the all black motorcycle.
anakin, i'm not an adrenaline junkie like you, i don't wanna get scraped off the pavement. you tell him, wringing your hands together.
y/n, it's literally twenty minutes, i will drive carefully, i promise you. c'mere. he says, his tone leaving absolutely no room for argument - but you make room, and refuse to get any closer. he doesn't sound angry, he just sounds like he knows this is how he has to speak to you to get you to do what he says.
there's only one helmet. and i'm in a tank top. you say, crossing your arms and standing your ground. he huffs, now clearly frustrated, and walks to where you stand ten feet away, putting the helmet over your head before you can say another word, grabbing the sides and tilting your head backwards roughly, so he can tighten the strap. now you bite your tongue, you have no fight left.
you gonna shut up and listen now? he asks, shutting the visor over your eyes, making everything a little darker - and you're thankful for it, because your mouth is just opening and closing like a fish while you try to find your attitude, and fail.
yes. you manage to get out. he wraps his jacket around your shoulders, and you put your arms in the sleeves. he zips it up quickly and walks away, back to his bike, and gets on.
put your foot here, hold my shoulder he instructs, and you obey quickly, trembling with anticipation now, both for whatever feeling is in the pit of your stomach, and for the fear of being on a motorcycle. scoot closer. he says once you're on. you barely inch forward, not wanting to be too close to him. y/n, i'm not coming onto you, it's for safety, you have to get closer he tells you, touching either of your thighs and pulling you until you're completely pressed against his back, legs squeezed against his hips. good, ok, you ready? just hold on. he checks in, turning his head to look at you while he gently pulls your hands around his belly, guiding you to lace your fingers together over his naval.
yes, i'm ready you say meekly, and he starts the bike. he keeps his promise, and drives slowly and cautiously. no weaving in and out of lanes, no speeding, no stunts. at the first stop light, he sits up straight and rotates to look back at you again, a hand high on your leg.
you doin okay? he asks, his tone softer than before. you relax your hands, and press one palm flat against his chest, rubbing back and forth slowly.
yeah, i think so, thanks you say loud enough for him to hear through the helmet and over the sound of the engine. he chuckles
attitude's gone, huh? that's all it took? he teases, satisfied with himself, and you slap his chest, and he slaps your upper thigh softly in response, making you inhale sharply at the contact.
i have no idea what you're talking about you tell him, feigning innocence.
yeah i'm so sure he laughs, kicking his feet back up as the light turns green, taking off again. your hands move from his belly, to his thighs, and he ever-so-slightly moves his legs apart, subtly encouraging you, but you still your hands instantly, and even though the engine is loud, you think you hear him groan in a different kind of frustration. something about being this close to him, about spending one-on-one time together for a change; it's making you see him differently. making you forget why he drives you up the wall most times you see him. his hands touching you every chance he gets is helping that cause. by the time you get to your apartment building, the knot in your stomach is wound so tight, you can't help yourself.
wanna come inside for a bit? you ask once you're both off the bike, and his helmet has been removed from your head. he smirks and reaches for your hair, smoothing it out. i'll change my mind if you don't wipe that cocky look off your face. you add.
no you won't and you know it. he laughs, and he's right. you lead the way up the stairs, and his lips are on yours the second the door is closed behind you.
mechanic!anakin would never let you drive bc he's too much of a gentlemen, but the one time he lets you, he's immediately like baby why is your tire pressure light on....where is your fourth hubcap....why is your check engine light on....and instantly start panicking and cancel your plans so he can fix everything at the shop while you sit and watch lmao
mechanic!anakin shows his love with acts of service. not only the small things like never letting you get your own door, always doing the driving, the yard work, etc. but the big stuff. when you have a hard day he wants to make it better by actively fixing things. your back hurts and he's massaging you and running you a bath. you're dealing with craziness at work and he's helping you draft stern emails to get your message across. and it goes without saying your car is in perfect condition thanks to him <3
