strongvoice.

            she’s watching the spoon stir when he says it, an angel. that’s quite the claim and she can even forget how uncomfortable anything religious makes her at the surprise of it. she tinkers out a laugh, grinning as she pushes her fingers through her overly short hair   ——   against her scalp really. she didn’t expect him to do more than make attempts, if they’re being honest. padme had been sure that she’d have to take the step of asking him out, but the reciprocation is welcome, and her half-grin blossoms into a full smile when he asks if she wants to get dinner.

            relationships have never much been her thing. aggressive as she is as a person she’s gun-shy on commitment and that’s been shaped by life experience. but she feels pulled to anakin, something at the center of her chest that makes her feel safe in a way she knows she isn’t.

image

            “i’d love to,”             she doesn’t trip over the words and she answers probably too quickly to seem relaxed about the whole thing.             “don’t know about angel, sweet as that is. i’m sort of a mess, but if you’re not completely put off by that yeah. definitely. maybe you could come by at closing and we could go 50-50 on a pizza?”            because she’ll have a handful of tips from the day and she wants to put the expectation out there now, she’s egalitarian. padme can’t do classical, and besides, there’s good pizza down the block that runs all night on a skeleton crew.

               ANAKIN BLUSHES INTO his shoulder, all that predacious beauty of his softened in the shy, pleased curve of his smile. The primal intensity of his attraction to Padme flashes heat through his veins, tightly winding a familiar longing around his heart. There’s nothing sudden about these desires, they’d been cultivated over several months—ever since she’d first gotten her job at the cafe—growing old && complex as fermented wine. 

image

     ❝ You can’t be anymore of a mess than I am. ❞ He reassures, laughing low && quiet in a way that almost seems bitter. But the subliminal tension between them wins out on further self-deprecation. A wanton thrill rides through Anakin’s body, && he does little to clamp it down. Outside, the low-hanging daylight blanches into a gentle gray that glistens on Anakin’s hair && shoulders. His curls gleam darkly gold, && his wide, angular mouth slides into a comfortable smirk. Not being turned down momentarily does wonders for Anakin’s confidence. 

     ❝ I’d love to, ❞ he mimics unintentionally, && then ducks his head. ❝ Can I give you my number? ❞ He sucks the corner of his bottom lip between his teeth, && leans forward over the counter. 

 
  1. astramessiah reblogged this from astramajestic-a
  2. astramajestic-a reblogged this from astramessiah
independent & private roleplay blog for anakin skywalker/darth vader of all star wars media. written by scout. || est. feb 2016.