Anakin Skywalker is the biggest star in the world right now. He has an army of fangirls, fame, fortune; yet nothing can make him as happy and complete as his number one fan, Queen of all Groupies: Padmé Amidala. Modern AU. One shot Inspired by Lana Del Rey's song.

***Unnecessary Disclaimer: I don't own anything***

Groupie Love

The uproar of the fans was so loud there was not a person on stage who didn't hear a buzz in their ears.

The concert was just over, Anakin had thanked the crowd, blew a kiss into the air, taken a bow, and gracefully exited. As he left, the adoring stadium chanted his name:

"Anakin! Anakin! Anakin!"

It was intoxicating, he had to admit. How could any human not react to that?

Being so loved… yet by a faceless crowd.

It was unfulfilling, knowing he was adored by so many, yet none of those girls or boys knew him. They knew his name, they knew facts about his life—as well as rumors. But they didn't know the man behind the star.

Only one person did.

Backstage, there was a small group of girls who had been lucky enough to get a meet and greet with Anakin Skywalker. They looked frantic, nervous, excited beyond reason.

"The concert was amazing!" a young girl, could be either fourteen or fifteen said.

"Totally," another one, perhaps a year older, said, nodding and smiling as they all circled Anakin to take a selfie.

"C-can I give you a kiss?" the older, the most beautiful one, asked, a bit shyly.

Anakin stared at her with a teasing yet somehow relieving smile.

"On the cheek, of course," the fan said, her face coloring extremely red.

"Of course," Anakin smiled, his boyish charm making the girls squeal.

The oldest and beautiful fan reached over, her cherry-red lips slowly landing on Anakin's cheek. She lingered there even after the picture was taken, taking in the moment, learning the texture and smell of her idol.

His face was a soft, justly shaved, while very tanned. He smelled like cigarettes and alcohol, mixed with a very expensive, manly fragrance—she knew it already. She had read about it on a magazine and she bought it for her boyfriend. It was amazing on that famous young man.

"Not fair!" the youngest fan cried, pouting sulkily. "Why does she get a kiss?"

"You're right," Anakin smiled, the sound of his voice next to them driving them crazy—it sounded raspy and strained, which was natural after a two hour concert. "How about another picture?" he took the girl's phone and took the picture himself, with closed eyes, laying a kiss on the girl's cheek. She screamed and cried—never in her life had she been so happy.

The girls were bewitched. Enamored. He had turned out to be a million times better than they had dreamed, which says a lot, and unable of holding back her fangirl heart, the oldest, who had been the most shy and restrained, jumped on him, throwing her arms around his neck, kissing his lips, squealing and shouting his name.

Anakin did nothing to put her away, he would never manhandle a fan—luckily, he had people for that kind of situations.

His bodyguard was on it on a second, ending that girl's happy moment all too soon. He took her away, having to drag her from the famous singer, while the other girls screamed incoherently.

Anakin was taken away by two security guards. When he was safe in his wide dressing room, he just let himself fall on a couch. He was not alone.

While the fangirls were being taken outside, escorted by Anakin's tall bodyguard, they recounted the moments just passed.

"I can't believe you guys got a kiss!"

"Oh he's so much more handsome in real life!"

"I'm never washing this cheek again!"

"Pitiful," the bodyguard muttered in a low voice.

"Excuse me?" the girls were offended.

He looked unembarrassed. "I said it's pitiful," he said. "It is at moments like this that I wonder, 'where are their parents?'"

"They're just coming to pick us up," a girl said, dryly.

"I wish I could talk to them," he said. "Let them know they're failing—"

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying… At your age, and going after a man who is older, and whom you do not know—and who is taken."

"Oh," the girls blushed and sighed. "Forgot he had a girlfriend!"

"Oh my God, you don't think she's here?"

By one corner, the one that had tables filled with booze and food, stood the members of Anakin's PR team, talking to each other while glancing at their smartphones.

The large couches in front of the big screen TV were occupied by the band members. Some of them played video games, some entertained with their musical instruments, mostly guitars; some simply relaxed after the show.

At the center of the room, was the star of the show himself: Anakin Skywalker. Probably the most famous name in the world right now.

By each side, he had several girls, all Instagram models, all beautiful, some foolish enough to believe they were celebrities as well. And they had one thing in common apart from beauty and followers: they all loved Anakin Skywalker.

"Oh my God!" the girl that had kissed Anakin on the lips exclaimed, ashamed. "Well, who could remember her when having Anakin's lips so close?"

"But you're such a fan. We all love Ahsoka Tano!"

Ahsoka Tano was around the same level as Anakin, when it came to fame. She was a few years younger, she had been a part of a very successful girl-band. Just recently she had gone solo, releasing a single featuring Anakin Skywalker. The single proved to be an absolute hit world-wide. And soon enough, they became the world's favorite famous couple.

In front of the cameras they loved each other. Most people liked them together, even though Anakin had a bit of a bad boy image; known womanizer and party boy, while she still had a good girl image from her earlier days.

A Match Made In Heaven, the tabloids had said. But really, it was a match made by two very smart PR teams.

Anakin's heart belonged to someone else…

Those fans, those beautiful models had no hesitation, they feared no bodyguard, girlfriend or paparazzi. Most of them prayed pictures of them with that famous guy could reach the internet; that would take them from Instagram famous to actually famous.

They swung around the singer, flirtatiously, admiring him; they seem to have his attention. Until someone else caught it.

Anakin had thought that night would end up being a lousy one, either he was going to his hotel room alone or with one of those models he was absolutely sick of. But when he turned to see his friends, simply to see what they were doing, his heart almost stopped beating. Her sudden presence shook him.

Sitting on the floor, a crown of flowers gracing the top of her head, as shiny brown curls fell to the sides; a drink in hand, a smile plastered across her too sweet face, there she was…

She was laughing and talking to the rest of the guys, pretending she couldn't see Anakin, doing a marvelous job because he actually believed it. One of the guitar players was staring at her with so much happiness and adoration Anakin stood up, abruptly, for a second considering taking down one of his best friends. He took a much too needed deep breath, and calming himself, he walked to the scene.

The guitar player removed his instrument from his lap and placed it on Padmé's. She barely knew how to play two chords yet she enchanted everyone with her little tune. She could sense someone was standing behind her, and she knew well who it was, but she didn't let that stop her song. It was her song not because she had written it but because it had been written about her, for her.

Anakin joined in the song that had earned him millions of dollars, but more importantly, uncountable kisses.

When they finished their little duet, Anakin took the guitar and gave it back to its owner. He stared at Padmé for a few seconds, his unblinking eyes piercing into her own sweet glance, and without saying anything else, not a goodbye to anyone, he left; knowing she would understand.

Padmé smirked for a short second, then she finally rose from the ground where she looked so free. "Well it's late boys," she said, her speaking voice as soothing as her singing one; as enchanting as the beauty of her young face. "I'll see you around."

"Bye, Sweetheart."

"Sweet dreams, Padmé!"

She was not a model, neither in magazines or social media; yet she was known by everyone in Anakin's circle. A lot of people thought of her as Anakin's ultimate fan. Those who truly knew Skywalker realized the truth, though.

It was him who worshipped. It was her who loved.

"Good evening my dear," Anakin's bodyguard found her.

"Hello, Mr. Qui-Gon," Padmé greeted, kindly and respectfully.

"Didn't expect to see you here tonight."

"I was not invited. We were going to meet this weekend when the festival season starts—I just couldn't or wouldn't wait."

"You have no idea how glad he is."

"I can imagine," she smiled and got into a car, a rather secretive black one.

She was glad herself, and she couldn't wait to give him all her groupie love.

Roll credits!

AN: Probably longer than it needed to be… Just an idea I got. It could be extended but I think for now it's better as a one-shot.

Review please :)