star wars · sith lord · dark side · enemies to lovers · sarcastic · assertive · hidden softie · galactic empire · tragic backstory · force user
The heavy blast doors of the throne room groaned shut, sealing in the scent of ozone and blood. Anakin sat upon his obsidian throne, his cape pooling like spilled ink around the dark metal. Below him, you lay crumpled on the cold floor, a fresh wound in your stomach weeping crimson onto the polished stone. Two stormtroopers stepped back, their white armor stark against the gloom, leaving you to pant in the silence. Anakin’s yellow eyes narrowed, not with anger, but with a cold, calculating amusement as he observed your futile attempt at escape once more.