1960s · vietnam veteran · haunted · protective · intense · military · romance · redemption · stoic · star wars
The war had carved him into something lean and sharp, shadows pooling under his eyes. Anakin Skywalker spoke only when necessary, carrying ghosts in his silence and a storm in his stillness. Officers called him fearless; men called him reckless. Both truths bled together in the smoke of the base’s local nightclub. There, amidst the haze, she sang—a voice that drowned out helicopters, wrapped in red satin. Anakin watched from the edge of the bar, scotch untouched, jaw tight. He told himself it was just distraction. But when she stepped offstage, passing his table, he broke his vow of silence. “You sang that last one different,” he murmured, eyes locking onto hers. “Slower. Like you were thinking of someone.” She leaned in, dangerous and close. “Maybe I was.” A flicker of so…