Disclaimer : Sadly, I don't own Star Wars!

I had the urge to write a story for them after shipping them so hard, it's crazy! I loved the plot and I have some great ideas for future chapters.

Vader(Suitless, just his personality traits) & Padme are the same age here, 24 years old.

Enjoy!

Chapter 1 - Encounters

Vader adjusted his black suite, neatly folding up the edges as he eyed himself in the bathroom mirror. He despised seeing his reflections at times. Especially when he looked so much like him. He looked too much like Anakin Skywalker and he hated it. He had worn grey contacts tonight specifically because he couldn't stand to see himself with his blue orbs along with his look tonight. It was a constant reminder that he still had a part of him—a part of Anakin Skywalker inside.

He had memorized the entire blueprint of the current hotel he was in. A classic five star hotel for large gatherings so people could flaunt off their wealth. This was the Coruscent Crescent, and the gala would be held in its largest ballroom where he was heading. He maintained a calm composure, his thoughts filled with the details that were running through his head. According to the blueprint, the closest exit would be a ten meter dash from the center of the dance floor. Eyeing his surroundings the ballroom itself had one large exit which was the main entrance, a grave no. The second option...he spotted a wooden door that read staff only. The kitchen. A feast this big must have a readied kitchen, and if his memory served him well, there would be an exit for the chefs and workers at the back end of the kitchen.

"Blue. Exit behind kitchen?" he asked into his earpiece, pretending to adjust his hair as he fake smiled at one of the guests.

"Negative. Emergency exit. Ten meters from dance floor, then a twelve meter dash." This was absurdly annoying. Reasons why he hated having to work with a partner yet he couldn't deny he needed one for certain missions.

This was one of those missions, inhaling and taking a breath of air he calmed himself down, trying his best not to lash out at his partner muttering exits into his ear.

"Be ready. Lights on my signal," he barked into the earpiece.

"Whatever you say, Boss." The voice had sounded amused, as if knowing he would bark into her ear and it was completely normal.

He continued his waltz into the grand ballroom trying his best to complete the act by sending flirtatious grins to the women that had begun to flock around him. He hated social gatherings. He loved the money that came with attending one. He loved how easily all these people were deceived by his appearance, deceived by an appearance of a boy that died years ago.

He stared at the large diamond chandeliers that hung above the dance floor filled with men and women dressed in the finest clothing from French couture to European classics with their faces partially covered in extravagant masked adorned with jewels and gold.

His last resorted exits were the windows in case anything went wrong. In case anything went wrong because even the simplest schemes have a possibility of failure, even for him. He was prepared. He wouldn't let a single mission failed, even if it meant risking everything. This was what he loved about his job, the thrill. Everyone has a guilty pleasure, some more drastic than others. This was his. He lived to steal, it's in his DNA. He knew the moment he was born in Mos Espa. The moment he had to steal food just to live another day. The moment he felt his heart pulsing, beating when he had ran away from the baker with a wild grin plastered across his face.

He was made for this.

"Vader, target is here."

He cautiously turned around to face the grand entrance of the ball, a small man had a trumpet in his hands as the large grand doors opened and she stepped through the doors. Anakin. Yes. He was Anakin right now, not Vader. He was playing as Anakin. He should be playing Anakin, especially here.

Simply because there was no way a person could live with trusting—or even knowing Vader. At least not in a place like this.

"Padme Amidala!" the man had proclaimed as she gave him a warm smile. He had seen many beautiful women in his life. Correction, he's fucked many beautiful women in his life. He refused to let his breath hitch in his throat when she dropped her coat and revealed herself in a long exquisite red dress.

Her curled brown hair cascaded down her back in attempt to cover her exposed back, Vader fought the urge to curl his hands into her brown locks. He noticed that her dress seemed different from all the other women here. Where they were dressed in large ball gowns with intricate craftsmanship, she had decided to wear a simple yet elegant striking red dress that clung on her petite frame and spread into a long train at her knees. Her silver mask covered her eyes, yet He could clearly picture her deep brown eyes scanning across the room. As she walked down the grand staircase, his eyes quickly focused to her wrist where the real prize lay.

It was an Emerald bracelet that was part of Bvlgari Emerald suite. A perfect prize for the price he was paying tonight. The $4,002,500 piece was a specific order from his current employer, and he had been promised a fair amount of money. The intricate craftsmanship made him secretly wonder if it was worth more, knowing easily he could take it up a couple thousand dollars. He had stolen jewelry before, snapping it off and escaping like the wind. He didn't feel like it tonight. He only stole when he had to. It's a job—an occupation that had his own set of moral codes.

He snickered. Moral code. He wondered why on earth he would have a moral code when he was Vader. Why would he want one—when he could easily do anything and everything with the power he currently had.

Yet he had a moral code.

As if he had morals. Those were thrown into the bin years ago, yet he found himself abiding to some of the simplest rules he had built when he started all this. When he started becoming Vader. When he discovered that the world didn't have a moral code.

Move your ass and go. He mentally barked at himself.

He waltzed his way into her direction, quickly meeting her at the foot of the stairs where he towered over her. She let out a small gasp at the sudden male in front of her. Just by looking at her and feeling the warmth that radiated out of her small body, he had the urge to shout and tell his dick to stand down. He didn't like her warmth. It was inviting and it made him feel weak. He hated it. He was done feeling that way.

He outstretched his hand in front of her and bowed his head, his eyes never leaving hers. If it was possible to rape someone with your eyes, Vader was sure he was doing it right. He found himself oddly attracted to this woman. He quickly averted his eyes away from her curves and onto her face that was a covered in a cold façade that screamed of a challenge. She was fiery, and by the look in her gleaming eyes, Vader felt an odd sensation in his gut that tonight would be different from all the jewelry thefts he's done before. It was exciting to him—at least he didn't put on this suite just to snap four million off her wrist and leave. It got quite boring once you knew all the tricks.

His hands found hers and he bent down, planting a hot lingering kiss, because this was what Anakin Skywalker would do. He would make a woman feel special, loved, when they're really not. Vader knew that if he fought fire with fire, it would be an all out war between him and her. He barely knew her, but there was something about her...he couldn't place his finger on it.

He took one step closer and his mouth found its way to the corner of her earlobe, he leaned close enough for only her to hear as his hot breath feathered her skin. "May I have this dance?"

That was not part of the plan. Dance? He didn't dance with the women he stole from. A casual brush to pretend they lost something. Or maybe a soft tap to the shoulder and disappearing once he stole her necklace was sufficient—but dance? Where the hell did this come from? Whatever or wherever the fuck this came from, blame his hormones, a part of him was thrilled. It was usually a fuck-n-go, in-n-out, take-n-steal, but he had completely broke his set of rules.

He hated this woman.

As he stared down on her, he had felt the background music fade, the chatter of people getting softer and softer. The world seemed to be in slow motion for him, his eyes focusing on hers, watching as her brown orbs slowly looked at him to reveal a glint of amusement. The lights seemed to dim, the only thing bright enough for him to see was her. His breath hitched in his throat, he wasn't supposed to be reacting this way. He's used to this, he's done this numerous times. So why did he feel fucking nervous?! Vader was a professional and he wouldn't let a woman like Padme Amidala—

Her fingers traced his and lead him to the center of the dance floor and he was speechless. His heart did a mini backflip inside his chest, her hand leading him the only thing he could focus on. He could hear Aayla in his ear telling him a door to snatch the bracelet was out and open in the clear, but he didn't care. All of his focus was on her.

He didn't care? Vader didn't care about four million dollars? God, help him now. He clenched his left fist, mentally telling himself to get a grip.

Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep your eyes on the prize. Keep your eyes on that ass.

Wait, what?

She stopped abruptly and he was stunned, her sudden scent intoxicating his senses as she brought him back to the present. He couldn't help but stare at the vulnerable nape of her neck, the soft skin completely exposed to him.

"You said you wanted to dance?" she asked him, eyes that screamed she was challenging him in a way no woman has before. Dance? Nom he did not want to freaking dance. It was preposterous! No, he'd rather a more exciting activity.

Vader nodded.

She was unbelievably alluring. Looking from one eye to the next, then to her lips, then back up to her eyes he pulled her closer.

She is not your mission.

They circled each other, and he couldn't help but smirk when he realized they were at the center of the room with nearly all eyes on them. He had the upper hand, not her. He refused to believe or even think that way. Her bracelet was his mission. Focus. He eyed her like a predator and she was his prey, giving one of his looks that made most women fall. She didn't, but her blush was enough to satisfy him. Circling each other, they both took one step forward and bowed. Her luscious brown hair sided to her left, exposing her bare back to him and he wanted her to cover it up, a sudden possessive nature taking over him.

His right hand was had crept up her back. The familiarity of his hand shocked her, his heat burning the very spot his hand laid on like fire. Steadying her as his left hand grasped her own, he intertwined their fingers. Her hands were soft compared to his rough calloused hands worn from work. Hands rough from killing, stealing, and destroying. The way she felt so—pure sickened him to no end, as if he was black tar staining something miraculously pure.

He could feel the way her body reacted to him, the moment he had placed his hands on her back, she had stiffened and looked up at him bewilderdly. He swore he felt her shiver, the way her ivory skin seemed to tremble at his very touch.

"I don't bite," he said softly with a low chuckle. Lie. He was treating this woman differently and he hated himself for it. He was raging at his own stupidity for even muttering words that had empty meaning.

"I'm not afraid of that," she replied quick as her breath hitched in her throat. She softly placed her hand on his shoulder, his eyes following her every movement. She was intimidated yet her eyes were challenging him, daring him to do something that would shock the both of them.

He wasn't keeping his eyes on the prize, he was keeping his eyes on her.

The music started, the beat pulsing and flowing through him. He brought her as close as dancing would allow, but not close enough. He moved his feet two steps forward and she followed. It felt like he was a predator chasing after a prey, yet he had miscalculated one damned step—and she was now after him. His tongue ran over his lips, noticing how her eyes had followed his movement. Good.

He could feel the adrenaline coursing through his veins from the way his heart was pounding to the rhythm of the music. Their dance started off loosely, with each doing the basics of one step forward and two steps backwards, each staring at each other with strong gazes of their own.

"Stop looking at me like that," she said, glaring at him.

"Like what?" he asked as he faked innocence and let out a low chuckle.

"Like I'm half naked, you ass." She said monotonously. He couldn't help the smirk that found its way on his lips. She was straightforward and her dry sense of humor amused him, he found himself quite liking her snarky attitude.

They moved in perfect synchronization, their bodies fitting each other perfectly right. It felt all too odd to Vader—that this woman was making him react in ways no other has, despite him being pretty damn good at what he was doing. When he let her do a twirl with his outstretched arm before recoiling back to his chest, he had felt her briefly grind against him and he had suppressed a low growl. This was supposed to be ballroom dancing and yet he felt—he knew she was seducing him this publicly as if she wanted him to go and ravish her in front of all these eyes. Her subtle elegant movements made her look angelic. She had captivated him.

"What brings you here?" she asked, her eyes burning with curiosity.

"What, a guy can't go out for a dance in a gala with a stunning woman in his arms?" he asked smugly, liking the way he had made her blush.

"So you're here for the girls," she said dully, her movements still following his.

"Not entirely correct." He replied, taking her into his arms before leading her into an array of swift elegant movements that were necessary in ballroom dancing.

This was dancing. It was supposed to be dancing. It didn't feel like one. His heart was beating rapidly through his ribcage and he could say the same for Padme. This dance felt more like a battle. One where both sides didn't want to lose. It was as if Padme and him stepped onto a deadly playing field and he was about to lose his shit. Lose. He didn't like losing.

"Vader, focus." A voice hissed through his ear.

Vader. He had to remind himself, right now…he wasn't Anakin Skywalker. That part of him needed to be locked away, sealed, shut and hidden away from the world to see. Right now he is Vader a notorious thief. A master who doesn't play games he know he's going to lose. Vader isn't going to lose.

If she was going to play it this way, so would he. It didn't matter if he was Anakin or Vader now. He refused to lose.

Each movement made him breathless - taken away by her beauty. She didn't have an abnormally large ass or boobs but they looked perfect to him. Their feet moved in sync, her short breath unknowingly making her lips quiver and he can't help but chuckle when she nearly trips on her dress. His hands held her steadily, her back arching towards him afraid of the impact that would happen if he let go. His chest was hovering just a few inches on top of her.

Their bodies nearly touch, her fingers clutching on to his for dear life, afraid that he would let her go and she would fall and crash in front of all these people. He roared inwardly when he felt her body tremble as he blew a hot breath on her cheek, she was too exquisite for him to ignore.

It would be alright to play around.

Just for tonight.

The music came to its final stop, with each musician playing a classing 1-3-5-1 chord. He brought Padme to a halting stop, her body crashing his for a second before regaining her posture. He interlaced the fingers of his right hand with hers, making sure she couldn't run away when he readied for his left hand to snap the bracelet and go for the run, approximately 12 meters from where he was standing.

He couldn't believe she wasn't moving! The dance was over. If anything she was inching herself closer and closer to him and he wanted nothing more but to pull her into his chest and never let go. His pride was roaring and his heart was swelling with pride. She was letting him hold her like this.

She looked at him, piercing his very soul and daring him boldly in what he would do. He possessively brought his hands to her hips and pulled her closer, intertwining their fingers once more. His eyes had planned his final exit, and as their faces were a mere 3 inches away—he couldn't hide the fact he thought she was fucking flawless. Her ivory skin so close to him, he was so close to finishing it all and placing a hot passionate kiss on her lips...

Everything went Black. It was pitch darkness, and everything was in state of utter chaos. He could feel her looking around, glaring at whoever dared to turn a gala into a wreck. This was his chance. He should go; he needed to go. He needed to finish what he started. But what did he start? The mission? Deep down, Vader could feel it burning in his chest. He had started something he wasn't prepared to finish and it sickened him to the core. He's felt this before, he's felt this sort of joy that didn't involve hurting others.

This was the joy that Anakin Skywalker felt, the little tingle in your guts that made you feel like a freaking teenager. He wasn't Anakin Skywalker anymore, he was Vader. He's changed. He's done feeling like a pussy.

Time to be the Vader he wanted to be, time to take what was his.

Vader swiftly unclasped the bracelet around her wrist. Rehearsed, practiced

He got his prize and he was feeling quite...happy.

But it didn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter anymore, and it shouldn't matter anymore because he was gone. Vader had dashed through the exit and had left Padme Amidala speechless on the dance floor. What once was a man became nothing.

He tried to remind himself that he had just completed his mission. That he had succeeded. Yet he left the Coruscent Crescent feeling as if all he got from this forsaken gala was a bracelet that held close to no value to him.

Vader felt sickened, and he wasn't sure what the hell had caused him to feel this way when he had just succeeded. He wasn't sure why he felt like the world's biggest idiot when he had just stolen four million from the stunning Padme Amidala.

I'm a bit rusty but I hoped you like the first chapter. The next chapter will be about Vader, and I'm excited to hear from you. Please leave a review, they keep me going! :) Have a great day.

[ nightrxy ; 07/07/2016 ; 18:36 ]