SYNOPSIS: where suitless!Vader is the right arm of the emperor with anger issues and you are his soft-spoken girlfriend who knows exactly how to bring him to his knees—with nothing more than a look.
WORDS: 600+
WARNING: nothing just fluffy, just a tiny bit of angst
A/N: hiii, dear lovers, I wrote this while waiting for my class to start. It’s a bit small, like probably one of the smallest as I wrote. 😉😘 anyway, comments, reblogs are appreciated. kisses and good reading 🥰🤩 Dividers by @cafekitsune
Vader was possessed — not by the Force, not by vengeance, but by the failure of a mission that should have been flawless.
Everything had gone wrong.
He had led a squad of Inquisitors in pursuit of one of the last remaining Jedi, a mission that was supposed to be swift, surgical, and final. It wasn’t even a full Jedi — just a Padawan. And yet… somehow, they had failed. Miserably. Two Inquisitors dead, another maimed. The others had fled — fled — like frightened children, disgracing everything he had trained into them.
Vader had expected power, precision, dominance. What he had seen instead was weakness.
And weakness had no place in his world.
The survivors suffered for their cowardice — his wrath descended like a star collapsing. He punished them without hesitation, a lesson carved into their flesh and bone. There would be no tolerance for failure. Not again.
By the time he returned to Mustafar, the fire inside him had grown unchecked. Fury rolled off of him like heat waves. His crimson saber roared to life, cleaving through anything and anyone foolish enough to be in his path — droids, furniture, command consoles, even the occasional stormtrooper caught in the wake of his rampage. Walls cracked. Steel melted. The fortress trembled under his wrath.
And then, suddenly, he was in your doorway.
The doors slammed behind him like a final verdict. You flinched, eyes wide, caught mid-page in your book, silk nightgown flowing like soft petals around your legs as you sat on the bed. The light from the hallway was devoured by his presence, all shadow and fury. His shoulders heaved with ragged breath, and those burning yellow eyes — normally hidden beneath the cold, black mask — flickered with a murderous storm.
You didn’t speak. Not at first.
You simply set your book aside, your fingers steady even as your heart raced. There was blood on his hands. His jaw was clenched tight, his entire body wound like a drawn wire. He was still ready to strike — to kill.
“Anakin,” you said softly, and it struck him like lightning.
That name. The name buried beneath layers of darkness and armor. Only you called him that, only you dared. And right now, it felt like an anchor thrown into the storm raging inside him.
He turned his head, jaw twitching. “Don’t,” he growled, voice raw, trembling. “Don’t say that name right now.”
But you were already rising from the bed, bare feet touching the cold obsidian floor. You approached without fear. Your hands reached for him — not to pull him close, but to ground him.
“I know what happened,” you whispered. “You lost control. They failed you. But you are still here. Still standing. You don’t have to carry this rage into our space.”
His fists were clenched, saber still in hand, his breathing ragged. His eyes flicked to your face — so calm, so tender — and for a moment, he was still. Then, with a trembling exhale, his weapon fell to the floor with a heavy clang.
And then… he dropped to his knees.
Not in defeat.
In surrender.
To you.
His forehead pressed against your stomach, his hands clutching your thighs as if they were the last solid thing in his galaxy. You slid your fingers into his sandy hair, gently tugging him closer, cradling him like a wounded beast.
“I’m here,” you whispered, brushing your lips against his temple. “You don’t have to be a god or a monster with me. Just breathe.”
His breath hitched. His hands trembled.
You were the only force in the galaxy that could bring Darth Vader to his knees — not with power, but with gentle. With love.
And as the chaos of the galaxy raged on outside, you held him together piece by piece, reminding the broken soul within the armor that he was still human, still Anakin — and still yours.
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