Reblog If Reading Someone Else’s Fanfiction Has Helped You Get Through A Hard Day

30 days—writing challenge

hi! well, actually this is a self-challenge but I want it to share it <3

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World Building

Creating Land

❂

⥇ agriculture

⟿ what is grown in abundance? how common is farmland? where is the farmland?

⥇ architecture

⟿ what kind of buildings? how tall/spacious? what are they made of? how well made? how well planned?

⥇ animals

⟿ what wild animals are lurking in the area? hunting? any animals affecting the livestock or agriculture?

⥇ biomes

⟿ desert? tundra? grassland? forest? savanna?

⥇ bodies of water

⟿ seas? lake? ponds? rivers? fresh water/salt water? fishing? keep in mind, settlements are often built near bodies of water

⥇ climate

⟿ dry? rainy? temperate? tropical? polar? how have people adjusted to this climate?

⥇ elevation

⟿ altitude? how does the altitude affect lifestyle?

⥇ geology

⟿ rocky? types of rocks?

⥇ landforms

⟿ mountains? valleys? plateaus? plains? hills? glaciers? peninsulas? volcanos? canyons?

⥇ latitude / longitude

⟿ location on planet? how does it affect other elements of land?

⥇ livestock

⟿ common domesticated animals? common animal usages?

⥇ minerals

⟿ any valuable minerals / metals? are they mined regularly? how are they used?

⥇ natural disasters

⟿ earthquake? tornado? volcano? duststorm? flood? hurricane? tsunami? how often do these occur? protocols?

⥇ population

⟿ how many people? how dense is the population? how does the population affect surrounding nature?

⥇ resources

⟿ what is abundant? scarce? how are they used? how available are they?

⥇ sacred land

⟿ religiously important land? historical importance? widely accepted as sacred? how is it honored?

⥇ soil

⟿ good or bad for vegetation? rocky?

⥇ tectonic activity

⟿ earthquake frequency? volcano frequency? trenches?

⥇ topography

⟿ how common are maps? how accurate? how long have they been around? who makes them?

⥇ vegetation

⟿ what is abundant? scarce? what grows easily? with difficulty? what is commonly foraged? who forages? plant types? tree types?

mu qing — type of boyfriend

he would not show his love physically

instead he would show it with actions

actions with a bad attitude

where were you? are you hurt? you really can't take care of yourself.

no doubt that he is a tsundere

actually hates it when you get hurt

if it's a big wound, he'll take care of you while scolding you for being careless

doesn't like to talk about the relationship, prefers to keep things private

he would never let you go out disheveled

he suddenly brings you gifts, and they are all perfectly pressed dresses

likes it when you catch demons

I want to write some seventeen fics but I dont have ideas, so request are open!

I can write fluff, angst, etc. Smut its hard for me, but I can try it.

I need a r2d2

y/n: but look at him! He is soo cutee, should we adopt him? *rise the kitten*

anakin: we still have R2D2, we can't have another pet

r2d2: *angry robotic noises*

White Noise | MV1

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: [Soulmate AU] In a world where soulmate marks promise connection, one person’s endless wait collides with another’s relentless pursuit of a life beyond destiny.

Warning(s): Mild Language, angst, hurt/comfort for like a small bit, fluff, for like tiny moment. Basically, they finally talk. Alternating povs.

Part 4 ~Series Masterlist~

"I've been the archer, I've been the prey, Screaming, who could ever leave me, darling?....But who could stay?"

Y/N's heart was racing, pounding in her chest like a drum, each beat reverberating through her entire body.

The moment she had stepped into the room, she felt it—the unmistakable pull, the presence of him. Her soul’s reaction was instantaneous, a thrumming sensation deep within her, filling the hollow space that had plagued her for as long as she could remember.

The pulse, the ringing in her ears, it was all him.

But this wasn’t supposed to happen. Not now. Not like this.

She had always thought, somehow, that she would be prepared for this moment, where she would have to finally confront him, but standing in the midst of a crowded party, the weight of everything crashing down on her, she wasn’t ready.

The memories of Bahrain flooded her mind—the first time she had felt it, the moment her heart had surged with desperation. But it had been too much.

She had run then, and now, she was running again.

Her feet carried her forward without her consent, an instinct she couldn’t stop. She had made it to the hallway, the coolness of the air helping to clear her head, but she knew, deep down, that he was following.

She could hear his footsteps, his voice rising above the noise of the party.

"Wait!"

His shout cut through her thoughts, piercing the air with urgency. His voice—his tone—was enough to make her stumble, her heart skipping, the sound of it thrumming in her chest, drowning everything else out.

"Stop, please."

The pleading, desperate tone sent a sharp tremor through her. She couldn’t explain why, but it was like an invisible thread pulling at her, urging her to turn around.

Her body seemed to act on its own, and before she could think, she was facing him, standing there in the hallway, his figure illuminated by the soft lights behind him.

Her breath caught in her throat as her gaze met his. His eyes were wide, searching—no, desperate, as he took a step closer, his presence magnetic, impossible to ignore.

He was right there. So close. Yet, the distance between them felt like an entire universe.

"Please, just let me talk to you. Once. Please."

The sincerity in his voice was enough to steal the air from her lungs.

She had tried so hard to block out the pull, the ache deep inside of her, but hearing that one word—please—it undid everything.

It made her pause, made her stand still. It was as though the universe had stopped just for this moment, just for him to speak those words, those two simple syllables that somehow held the weight of a thousand unspoken things.

For a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. The bond, the overwhelming pull of their connection, was like a storm inside her.

She could feel her pulse in every part of her body, an unbearable rhythm that matched the frantic thrum of her thoughts.

Why is this happening now?

The question spun in her mind, but she didn’t have the answers. She didn’t want to have the answers. Not yet. Not when she had worked so hard to push this all away.

But as his eyes searched hers, she realized there was no denying it anymore. She couldn’t pretend anymore.

He was here, in front of her, and that was something she had to face.

This isn’t a game, her mind whispered to her. This is real.

She swallowed, trying to steady her breath, but her heart wouldn’t let her. The sound of it, so loud, so clear in her ears, only seemed to grow louder the longer she stood there, staring at him.

He took a cautious step forward, as though unsure whether to approach or wait for her permission.

Y/N could see the hesitation in his posture, the way his muscles were tense, ready to react to whatever she might do next.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, a gesture that was barely there but enough to give him the signal.

Slowly, she turned and began walking down the hallway, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors.

She heard his footsteps behind her, closer now, a steady rhythm that matched the pounding in her chest.

She wasn’t sure if it was because of the bond or the weight of the moment, but it felt as though the air around her was thickening, pressing down on her, making it harder to breathe.

The hallway seemed to stretch endlessly, but Y/N didn’t stop walking until she reached a door at the far end, a small storage room that had been used to store event supplies. It was tucked away from the bustling party, isolated, quiet—perfect for what needed to happen next.

Without looking back, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, boxes and supplies stacked haphazardly against the walls. The space smelled faintly of cardboard and dust, but Y/N didn’t care. She needed this isolation. She needed to clear her head, even if just for a moment.

The door clicked shut behind her, and she finally turned to face him.

Max stood just inside the doorway, his hand on the handle as if he was still unsure whether to cross the threshold completely. His expression was a mix of determination and uncertainty, and she could feel the weight of his gaze on her, like it was pulling at her from all directions.

He stepped forward then, his presence filling the small space between them.

Her eyes flickered to him, then quickly down to the floor. She couldn’t meet his gaze for too long, not yet. Not when she was still so terrified of what this meant.

Max didn’t speak right away. He just stood there, close but still holding back, waiting for her to say something, to give him some sort of sign that she was ready to talk.

But all she could do was breathe—deep, steadying breaths, trying to calm herself down. The pulse in her chest was almost deafening. She knew that she had to speak, there was no turning back now.

But still, she hesitated.

Max shifted on his feet, the tension in his posture thick, as if he was about to break, but he held himself together—barely. His fingers were twitching at his sides, and he felt the hum deep in his chest, a gnawing ache that wouldn’t subside.

He cleared his throat, the sound breaking the heavy silence like a crack in a wall. "Max," he said, his voice rough, but it wasn’t the authoritative tone he used in the paddock, or the smooth calm of someone used to dealing with media.

This was Max—vulnerable, unsure. The kind of Max who didn’t often show himself.

"Max Verstappen," he added, as though his name should mean something, though he already knew it wouldn’t. Not with the way she ran from him.

Y/N didn’t react, not right away. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, her arms crossed over her chest, a protective shield she had built up over the years and didn’t dare lower. She wasn’t sure what would happen if she did.

Max couldn’t help himself; he took a step closer, the pull drawing him forward as though the space between them was shrinking. But she didn’t move, her gaze still locked downward, her posture as stiff as steel.

"I don’t bite," he added with a half-smile, though it was strained, the humor barely there. He tried to make light of it, but it wasn’t working. The tension was too thick, the pulse between them too strong, too loud in his ears.

She remained silent, the words staying on the tip of her tongue. Why was he still here? Why couldn’t he leave her be?

He pressed on, the silence growing unbearable. His frustration was creeping in, and he didn’t bother hiding it. "You’re not gonna run again, are you? I don’t know what the hell happened back there, but this..." He gestured between them, his hands opening slightly, his frustration flaring.

"This can’t be a mistake. I felt it, and I know you did too." His words came out blunt, as direct as he could manage, with no filters, no hesitation.

Y/N’s lips pressed together, and she took in a slow breath, but the words didn’t come. She wasn’t sure what to say. She wasn’t sure if she was allowed to say anything.

She could feel the pulsing, the hum, the ache in her bones, her chest, her heart. It was all him. But how could she acknowledge it?

"Why did you run?" Max’s voice cracked just slightly as he asked, the vulnerability that he rarely showed slipping through.

He didn’t wait for an answer, though. He knew. He felt it.

"You think I’m just some guy in a hotel room, shaking hands with sponsors, a guy who just races for a living, and that’s all I am? You think that’s all I can be?" His voice softened, but the frustration was still there, curling around his words like smoke. "I don’t even know your name, but I can’t... I can’t just let you run away again."

Y/N’s breath hitched at his words. There was a bite in his voice now, a quiet hurt that she couldn’t ignore. It stung, sharp and unexpected.

Max took another step, his eyes locking on hers, desperate for something—anything—that would help him understand this.

But all he found was cold, detached silence. It was like hitting a wall, and yet, somehow, that wall was cracking, just a little, with each second that passed. He could feel it in his chest, in the air between them.

"Are you just going to stay silent?" he asked, frustration giving way to a tinge of sadness.

"Is that how you’re going to play this? Because I can’t stand it. I want us to talk, to figure this out, I've waited so long. I—" He stopped, realizing how much he was saying, how exposed he had become. He had never been this open with anyone. Not like this.

Y/N’s gaze flicked up then, just briefly, her eyes meeting his. The connection between them flickered, a brief, sharp spark that ignited everything inside him. She was silent, but in her eyes, he saw something.

Fear. Anger. And beneath that, a thread of longing—a recognition.

“I’m not going to run,” she finally said, her voice firm, but with a quiver beneath the surface. Her words were clipped, like they were hard to get out, like they didn’t fit the situation.

She had never been good at this. At feeling things, at letting herself feel things that weren’t controlled. But here she was. Here.

Max’s expression softened, but only just. He could see through her, even if she tried to hide it. He could see the cracks in her facade, the way she was breaking just a little with every word, every silence.

“Then what are you going to do?” he asked, almost desperate now. He stepped closer again, close enough that the hum between them seemed to pulse with an intensity that made his heart race.

He could feel the gravity between them, the pull, the ache. And it was growing. She was so close—so close but still, so far.

She met his gaze fully now, the stone wall that she’d built around herself finally starting to crumble, piece by piece. The look in her eyes was something Max had never seen before—not in the paddock, not in the chaos of the races, not in the heat of victory. This was something else.

______________________________

Max’s eyes were still on her, searching for something, maybe an answer that would make sense of all the chaos inside her, but there was no easy way to explain this. No way to simplify what had become a tangled mess of emotions and realities.

She couldn't make this easy for him. She knew that, deep down. But it didn’t make the truth any less painful.

"I know you, Max," she started, her voice quiet but steady, though every word felt like it was scraping against her throat. "I know what you’ve worked for. The way people look at you, the expectations, the pressure."

Her chest tightened with the weight of her thoughts, and she couldn’t look away from him, even though she wanted to. “You’ve been built for this life. Racing, winning, being the best. You’ve been molded for the world you live in, Max. And you’ve made it, you’ve fucking made it. I see that. I admire it. I admire you."

She closed her eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump that had lodged in her throat, feeling the bitter taste of regret already creeping in. "But you don’t understand. I can’t be a part of it. Not with you."

Max flinched slightly, and she could see the hurt flash across his face. She wasn’t trying to hurt him, but it was inevitable. There was no way around it. Her words cut deeper than she intended.

"I know the Max Verstappen the world sees.” She swallowed, her throat tight. “But I don’t know you. Not the man standing in front of me. Not the man who is supposed to be my soulmate.”

Max inhaled sharply, his hands twitching at his sides like he wanted to reach for her. But he didn’t. Not yet.

“I waited for you too, you know?" Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it cracked under the weight of the words. “For years, I waited. At first, it was hope. Every birthday, every trip, every new place—I looked for you. I searched for something, anything, that could mean you were close. And then… hope turned into anger. Because you weren’t there. And I was supposed to be okay with that?” She shook her head. “I was supposed to live my life knowing the person meant for me was out there but nowhere near me?”

Max’s jaw clenched, the muscle in his cheek twitching.

“And then the anger faded too. And all that was left was... indifference.” She met his gaze then, unwavering.

“Because I had to move on. I had to build something for myself. I had to be enough for myself. For me”

She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “And I did it. I built a life, Max. A life that didn’t need a soulmate to feel complete. A life that I carved out with my own two hands, while people pitied me for never finding you. While they whispered that I would never be whole.” Her voice hardened.

“But I proved them wrong. I am whole. I have my business. My work. A life that makes sense, a life that I control.”

Her hands trembled again, and this time she didn’t bother hiding them. She looked at him, at the storm in his eyes, at the way his lips pressed into a thin line, at the way he was fighting—really fighting—not to interrupt her.

“And now, suddenly, you’re here.” Her voice was raw now, like it had been scraped against glass. “Just when I finally have a grasp on everything, you appear and you expect me to throw all of it away? Just because the fucking universe says we’re meant to be?”

Max flinched, just barely.

“How do you know we’ll make it, Max?” She demanded. “You race. I work. You live in the spotlight, I built my life in the shadows. You chase adrenaline, I crave steadiness. Our lives are nothing alike.” She exhaled, her breath shaky. “And then there’s the fans. The media. The circus that follows you wherever you go. How am I supposed to handle that? How do we fit, Max? How can we?”

Silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating.

She licked her lips, voice quieter now. “I’ve spent my whole life proving that I don’t need another person to be whole. That I don’t need someone to complete me. And now you’re asking me to risk all of that… for the idea of you?”

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. “How am I supposed to do that?”

Her words hung in the air between them, heavy and unrelenting. She could see it in his face—the hurt, the frustration, the determination.

____________________________

Max let the silence stretch, let her words settle deep in his bones. He felt each one like a weight pressing against his ribs—sharp, heavy, relentless. But he didn’t move, didn’t waver.

Because she was here. Because she hadn’t run.

And because she was wrong.

His voice, when it came, was quiet but steady. “You say you don’t know me. And you don’t.” His gaze was unwavering. “But I don’t know you either.”

Her breath caught.

“And yet,” Max continued, taking a slow step closer, “I do.”

She tensed, but she didn’t retreat.

“I know how you walked into that room, completely composed, completely in control—until you saw me. I know the exact second you felt it, the moment the ground tilted under your feet, the way your eyes widened, just a fraction, before you turned and.. left.” His tone was measured, deliberate. “I know you’re standing here right now because you want to be, even if you don’t want to admit it.”

Her fingers twitched by her sides, barely perceptible.

Max took a step forward, slow, measured, like approaching something fragile. “You talk about waiting for me, about searching for me, about how hope turned into anger, then nothing at all.” His voice hardened. “Do you think I don’t understand that? Do you think I didn’t feel the same fucking thing?”

She inhaled sharply.

“I grew up knowing I had someone out there. Someone I was supposed to find. And I hated it.” His jaw tensed. “Because how the hell was I supposed to look for someone when my entire life was planned before I could even fucking walk?”

He let out a humorless laugh. “I didn’t have time to search, Y/N. I didn’t have the luxury. I had racing. I had pressure. I had expectations so heavy they nearly crushed me before I was old enough to understand them. I was too busy proving I deserved to be where I was.” His voice turned rough, honest. “And I did it alone.”

“You say I wasn’t there for any of it.” His voice lowered.

“Neither were you.”

She flinched and Max felt his heart break a little.

His tone softened. “You don’t know if we’re meant to be together, and you know what? Maybe we’re not.” He shrugged.

“Maybe we’ll fucking hate each other. Maybe you’ll get sick of me in a month, and I’ll drive you insane. But we don’t know that.” He exhaled. “What we do know is that this is real. It's in our bones, inked on our fucking skin, in the way our hearts have been beating for years, this bond—this is real.”

Silence.

Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, wanted to deny it, but no words came out.

Max studied her, eyes searching. “You think this is going to destroy the life you built.” A beat of silence. “Maybe it will.”

Her head snapped up, eyes flashing, but he wasn’t done.

“Or maybe it’ll make it better.” His voice was quiet, but sure. “Maybe you’ll finally let yourself have something that isn’t just work, something that isn’t just proving yourself over and over again to people who don’t matter."

He held her gaze, unwavering. "The truth is, no one knows how this will work. There’s no plan for this. No blueprint. But that doesn’t mean we walk away.”

Her eyes burned into his, searching, dissecting.

Max took a final step closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. “That doesn't mean we have to give up our chance—our realest fucking chance to be happy, I'm not asking you to throw your life away for me” He shook his head. “I want you to let me be part of it.”

Something cracked in her gaze.

________________________

The tear catches her by surprise.

She feels it before she registers it, the slow slide of warmth trailing down her cheek, an undeniable crack in the armor she had spent years perfecting.

And then—Max is there.

His hand moves before he thinks, his thumb brushing against her skin, wiping it away. The touch is featherlight, a whisper of warmth against her cheek—

And the bond pulses.

Loud. Violent. Consuming.

A shockwave of something unseen, something ancient, something theirs rips through them, and the force of it takes them both down.

Y/N stumbles, her knees buckling, but she never hits the floor.

Max is there—solid, unyielding, his reflexes faster than thought.

His arms catch her, cradle her, steady her as they both collapse onto the cold, dusty floor of the storage room.

And then—silence.

It isn’t tense. It isn’t heavy. It just is.

Her head rests against his chest, the rapid beat of his heart a perfect mirror to her own. His arms are around her, firm but careful, holding her close in a way that feels like he’s meant to.

And the bond—the bond hums.

Not a pulse, not a roar, just a steady, gentle hum. A soundless lullaby. A sigh of relief.

Y/N exhales, her breath ghosting over his suit, and for the first time in her life, she feels content. She doesn’t think. She doesn’t fight it.

She just is.

Her body curls instinctively into his, her forehead pressing against his chest, her fingers gripping lightly at his jacket as she burrows closer. It’s unconscious, inevitable. A pull she can’t deny.

Max feels it too.

His hold tightens, his grip shifting just slightly as he tucks her in closer. His heartbeat steadies, aligning with hers. His breath slows. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just holds her, lets her be held.

And in that moment, on the cold, dirty floor of some forgotten storage room, Max Verstappen knows exactly what paradise feels like.

Then—

The illusion shatters.

Y/N’s eyes snap open. The warmth turns to ice in an instant, her body going rigid against his.

Max feels the shift the moment it happens. The way she stiffens, the way her breath hitches like she’s just remembered something terrible.

And then—she pulls away.

Like she can’t get away fast enough.

Max feels it like a physical blow.

She scrambles to her feet, her movements sharp, almost frantic, as she wrangles her hands together, fingers twisting against each other—a nervous tic, he realizes. An anxiety response.

He gets up slower, brushing dust from his sleeves, forcing his breath to stay even, forcing himself to stay.

Silence stretches between them.

This time, it isn’t peaceful.

This time, it’s awkward. Tense. Something lingering between them, something neither of them can name, something neither of them can face.

Y/N is the first to break it.

Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Time, Max.”

A pause.

“I need time.”

And then she turns, and walks away.

Max is left standing there.

The hum in his chest—so loud, so certain just moments ago—fades into something hollow, something aching.

She’s gone.

The warmth of her body, the perfect way she fit against him, the peace he had never known—ripped away as if it had never been real.

He lets out a breath, slow and shaky, like he’s trying to steady himself on the edge of something devastating.

He had her.

For a second, for a fleeting, impossible moment, Max Verstappen had everything.

And now—

Now, he has nothing.

________________________________________

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this part, please leave a like a comment and a reblog!

Well, well, well, what do you think is going to happen next? This took out alot from me. I'm the type of woman who feels that I don't need a man to complete me. And yet, I yearn for love so much, that it hurts. So maybe I'm pouring a bit of myself into this. I can only hope that you all like it.

Jules♡

Taglist: @anamiad00msday @evie-119 @that-one-little-soybean @six-call @stressed-cherry @il0vereadingstuff @whatevenisthisxxxxx @freyathehuntress @nina-or-anna-or-nora @allthings-fandoms @larastark3107 @myescapefromthislife @wertyuizxcvbnm @halleest @hs2016 @lucyysthings @justaf1girl @bernelflo @mendes-bae @chelseyyouraverageluigi @llando4norris @sid-is-gr8 @henna006 @hurtblossom @quinquinquincy @ts1mp0ne @spidercat-soccerfan @kodzuvk @wherethefuckisthething @hellowgoodbye @prttylight @l4ndonorizz @edgyficuselastica @k-kaliop @charlesgirl16 @chloes-book-corner @1mverstappen @inchidentofftrack @blackmage24 @angelluv16 @alice-went-away @teamnovalak @wierdflowerpower

Enchanted

Summary: Everyone feels intimidated by your coldness, except Anakin. Who feels enchanted by everything you are. 

Tags: Shy! Reader, Jedi! Reader, Reader is actually nice.

You can translate it in AO3

No podías evitar mirarlo, Anakin Skywalker era bastante impresionante para tu criterio. Habiendo terminado la misión que les habían asignado, volvieron a la base con su equipo claramente satisfechos y aliviados. Y aunque tu cara no lo demostraba, tú también lo estabas.  La misión fue más simple de lo que habías imaginado, recuperar terreno conquistado por los Separatistas rara vez resultaba ser una tarea fácil; sin embargo, las habilidades de Anakin y su padawan, Ahsoka Tano superaron tus expectativas. Claro que muchos chismeaban sobre las habilidades del Jedi, y también mucho habías escuchado en los pasillos, su trabajo era claro y admirabas su manera espontánea de actuar. Reprimiste el sentimiento de envidia que creció en tu pecho volviendo tu vista al frente en cuanto pusieron un pie en la base. Seguida por tu equipo te paraste al escuchar la voz de uno de los soldados. 

“Nosotros iremos por un descanso, ¿está bien?”, el clon principal preguntó haciendo que te des la vuelta. 

—Claro, descansen—cediste. Los clones asintieron yéndose. Fue ahí cuando Anakin bajó con su equipo, exclamando que podían ir a descansar. Lo miraste brevemente antes de desviar la mirada—Hiciste un buen trabajo, Skywalker. 

Él sonrió, poniendo su mano en su cuello. 

—No hace falta ser tan profesional, ¿Vas a descansar?—el pelo del Jedi estaba desordenado, sin embargo seguía viéndose atractivo. 

—No, probablemente asista a otra misión—juntando las manos por delante, te sentiste confundida ante las cejas fruncidas del jedi—¿Algo está mal, Skywalker?

—Bueno… No creo que sea bueno haces repetidas misiones sin tiempo de descanso—Anakin contestó ladeando la cabeza, no agregaste nada sintiendo sorpresa por sus palabras, desde que la guerra había comenzado tu descanso era inexistente en tu calendario—Yo tengo un descanso de tres días, ¿porque no me acompaña? 

Retrocediste medio paso, con la mandíbula ligeramente suelta se recompuso rápidamente, aceptando sin seguridad en su decisión. En realidad, varios de los maestros se aliviaron al escuchar tu pedido de descanso, parece que ya tenían en mente obligarte a descansar si no reconocias tus límites. 

Anakin y tú volvieron al Templo, cada uno volviendo a su habitación; no te habías sentido particularmente cansada, sin embargo cuando apoyaste tu espalda en el colchón pensando que no ibas a poder dormir por el sol entrando en la ventana, caíste dormida inmediatamente. 

De tu sueño profundo fuiste despertada por unos golpes en la puerta, te paraste desorientada por la desaparición de la luz y como pasó que dormiste tanto. 

—¿t/n?—la voz detrás de la puerta lo empeoró, abriéndola acomodaste tu visión con la poca iluminación que había en el pasillo. 

—¿Skywalker? ¿Qué haces aquí? ¿Qué hora es?—frotandote los ojos las preguntas salieron sin parar.

—Tranquila, no pensé que seguías dormida—Anakin se rió—Es tarde, casi medianoche.

Tus ojos se enfocaron en sus expresiones, buscando cualquier signo de que estuviera mintiendo, sin embargo no la encontraste y te costó creer que hubieras dormido doce horas seguidas. 

—¿Sucedió algo? ¿Hay una nueva misión en la que me requieran?

Anakin no contestó por un segundo, fijando su mirada en ti, luego se rió despreocupadamente sosteniéndose la frente. 

—Vaya que eres una adicta al trabajo—se acercó—No pasó nada, simplemente mi maestro me dijo que no te vio en la cena de hoy así que pensé que ahora tendrías hambre. 

Si, si tenías hambre, lo notaste apenas te incorporaste de la cama.

—¿A esta hora?—bajaste la mirada ocultando tu sonrisa—Por algo hay horarios en el templo, Jedi Skywalker. Incluso los padawan saben que si piden comida a medianoche, los cocineros los tirarán por la primera ventana disponible.

Estabas por cerrar la puerta, cuando Anakin te detuvo con sus ojos encontrándose. 

—¿Quién dijo que íbamos a comer en el Templo?

Fue asi como terminaste en un restaurante fuera de la parte central de Coruscant, siendo un lugar colorido y bien concurrido a pesar de la hora. No conocías nada del menú, así que dejaste que Anakin eligiera por ti, el lugar era desconocido pero resultaba ser cómodo. 

—Te prometo que te gustará, es picante pero tampoco es tan fuerte—Anakin sonrió apoyando su codo en la mesa, los platos de comida caliente se posaban frente a ustedes y con vacilación probaste la comida. El sabor se extendió rápidamente por tu lengua, diferente a cualquier otra cosa que hayas podido comer en el Templo. Anakin apretó los labios ocultando una sonrisa antes de morder—¿Siempre trabajas tanto?

Paraste de comer apoyando el tenedor.

—Claro, hay muchas cosas que hacer—suspiraste—Prefiero terminar las misiones rápido para poder empezar la siguiente, los Separatistas ganan terreno a un alto rendimiento, no podemos permitirlos avanzar. 

—Sin embargo no eres la única Jedi que puede hacer esos trabajos—se inclinó sobre la mesa, sus ojos celestes te penetraron—Si quieres rendir mejor, deberías descansar. Es necesario, además si te sientes sola, siempre podríamos pasar los descansos aquí si te gusta. 

Las palabras se fueron de tu boca, calentando tu cuello y un corazón latiente. 

—...La mayoría de personas me encuentra intimidante, tú lo sabes. 

Anakin rió.

—Puedo ver eso, pero lo que sea que encuentren intimidante, yo lo encuentro encantador. 

Avergonzada, y terriblemente preocupada por la velocidad con la que tu pecho latía, te paraste de la mesa. Skywalker estaba desmoronando las paredes a tu alrededor, y una pregunta se poso en tu cabeza, ¿era solo admiración lo que sentías por él?

⊹ ¡ busco mutuals ! ⊹

☽ ¡hola! soy tohie, soy escritora de novelas y fanfics

☽ ! exo, bangtan, txt, astro, red velvet, blackpink

mangas bl & gl. mxtx <3 ! star wars, fanfics . . .

—me ayudarias mucho con un reblog

🍚 —cosas por hacer:

planear novela

buscar retos de prompts

hacer prompts con mis personajes

hacer playlist

hacer ejercicio

I ended writing and editing a chapter for a Seb fic BUT NOW I HAVE TO TRANSLATE IT IM IN HELLL