Anakin Skywalker

Anakin was in quite the predicament. Fuck… Ahosoka, his sweet, ’pain in my ass sister.’ Had insisted that it was high time that he got a trim.

And in truth, she was right. Only problem was that he hated anyone touching his ’luscious curls.’ Ahsoka teased him for it regardless of the fact the teenager was under his care and a good five years younger than her.

She ought to show me some respect and appreciation after the way I’ve kept her alive and fed! He’d think over, and over, and over again.

But, she was right. As. Per. Usual.

So here he was, sitting in a comfy chair with a dark smock tied around his neck that seemed to only add further discomfort to the situation.

Couldn’t she have found someone a little less…fuck, that perfume.

His eyes fluttered slightly as you rounded him, your sweet scented perfume following your every move and clouding his thoughts in a haze of dizziness. God, it clung to him. He had no doubt in his mind that he’d be sniffing his shirt and locking himself away in his room once he’s home from this damned cut.

Against his better judgement he glanced up through his lashes, regretting it instantly as his unblinking gaze settled on your concentrated face.

A slight crease had formed between your pinched brows, your teeth gently abusing your bottom lip while you brushed a comb through his hair, following it with a snip from the scissors you held.

He hated anyone touching his hair. But as soon as you walked out from behind the front desk of the empty salon, he knew he’d let you do anything to his curls. Fuck, you could give me a buzzcut and i wouldn’t even bat an eye.

The fact that the salon was emptied out aside from you and him taking up the space of the back room really didn’t help either.

Ahsoka said she had some connections and managed to get him a private trimming for the sake of his ’Anxiety.’

Boy, was he going to give her the longest silent treatment once he got home.

He shifted in the chair uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing his legs as an attempt to help conceal the bulge beneath the smock that had formed almost as soon as he saw your smile.

As if on instinct his eyes dropped to your lips and an audible groan left him. Fuck!

“You okay, sweetie?” Your sweet velvety voice asked, concern itching onto your face as you pulled your hands back as if you were afraid you snipped his ear or something.

He refrained from groaning again just from the sound of it.

He shook his head slowly, biting down on his inner cheek while he quickly adverted his gaze to the mirror across from him. Attempting not to follow the reflection of your behind in it.

“Yeah, I’m good…” he muttered, his voice strained.

“Just…hate getting haircuts done, you know?” He added with a forced breath of amusement.

There was nothing amusing about it. He was in a tight spot and he cursed his little sister for it.