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caligvlasaqvarivm · 6 months ago

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Actual Ultimate Classpecting Guide

For real this time.

Buckle up, this is a really long one. For everything that's posited, I can provide textual evidence; that being said, I'm not going to be including the textual evidence within the essay itself, because it's already long enough as-is. As such, please feel free to ask for clarification or sources on any assertion, and I'll do my best to provide.

Before we begin, there's some things to discuss about how we're going to be approaching classpect in the following essay. In numbered list form for our short attention spans:

1. There is a concept Hussie talks about multiple times in his book commentary, "personality alchemy" - the idea that there are these "platonic ideals" of certain characters, which can be mixed and matched with others, in order to create new characters. The examples he gives are of how Eridan was a proto-Caliborn, how Kanaya has shades of Jade, how Nepeta was a proto-Calliope, and how Sollux and Eridan have shades of Dave in them. Classpecting is fundamentally a form of this personality alchemy:

2. Class describes the character's arc and emotional hurdles, while Aspect describes the character's base personality traits by which this arc is experienced.

3. For example, all three Seers struggle with hubris: Rose's need to be the smartest person in the room led to her being manipulated by Doc Scratch, Terezi's obsession with meting justice led to her engineering a situation where the only option was to kill Vriska, and Kankri's desire to be seen as a spiritual leader amongst his friends led to him furthering their divisions and harming them.

Then, when their pride is shattered, they cope by inflicting willful self-blindness: Rose turns to drinking herself stupid (the opposite of Light's sway over knowledge), Terezi gets down with the clown (the opposite of meting out Mind's justice, as it's a Gamzee W), Kankri goes celibate (Blood L) despite his clear romantic feelings for certain teammates.

4. As for Aspect: note how all three Life players share the personality traits of optimism, stubbornness, and obstinacy. All three Breath players share an immaturity and naïvety, and are quite frankly irresistible to people for some reason. All three Light players share a need for the spotlight and a tendency toward long-windedness and persnicketiness. So on and so forth.

What's interesting is, if you start analyzing characters that share Classes and Aspects, these specific types of similarity crop up over and over - all our Knights struggle with insecurities and facades, both our Bards have a crisis of faith. All three Breath players have an aspect of immaturity and childishness to their characters, and all three Light players are deeply concerned with appearing intelligent and feeling important.

5. As a result, this guide is NOT intended for classpecting real life people, because we are complicated, we contain multitudes, and we don't have arcs. This is primarily an analysis of what Class and Aspect mean in Homestuck based on textual evidence, because I genuinely believe that you can basically figure it out if you read carefully.

6. Duality, and the idea of "equal and opposite," are major themes within Homestuck - Prospit and Derse, Skaia (described as a crucible of birth and creativity) and the Furthest Ring (the literal afterlife). Which classes are involved in an Active/Passive split, and opposing Aspects, are the same way. This is the primary method I used to determine the Active/Passive pairings and opposing Aspects. After all, as Callie describes, both Thieves and Rogues are classes "who steal" - so, too, do I try to unify Classes by a common theme, even if they diverge wildly in how that theme is expressed (as Thieves and Rogues do). In the same way as the opposite of "up" is not "apple," but "down", because "up" and "down" are both fundamentally concerned with relative vertical position, so too can be defined concepts like Breath and Blood, Hope and Rage, Light and Void - as well as the reasoning behind Class pairings like Heir and Page, Maid and Knight, and Seer and Mage.

7. Descriptions for both Class and Aspect are left deliberately vague and up to interpretation within the comic itself, and this is by design: the actual manifestations of an Aspect can vary wildly given the Class, and even individual person, that it's tied to. Calliope even makes note of the fact that, under the right circumstances, someone can manifest effects that appear to be the opposite of their aspect. She's also careful to couch her language in "may" and "can" - because these concepts are intentionally somewhat nebulous and malleable. As such, while this guide certainly lays down what can be gleaned and inferred from the text, do note that Homestuck runs on a soft magic system, and as such, nothing stated is firm, 100%, must-always-be-this-way - just an overview of what we've seen.

8. There is often great overlap between Aspects, Classes, and Classpects - which Calliope herself notes. Heart and Blood are one of the most salient, as they both have a fixation on relationships, and Calliope mentions that under the right circumstances, a Classpect may even be able to manifest what appears to be the opposite of their Aspect. Again, Homestuck operates on a soft magic system, so this is a feature, not a bug.

ASPECT

There's a little less to say about Aspect, not because it's less complicated, but because "base personality traits" are much more nebulous compared to Class's sway over character arc. Still, Aspect represents the fundamental way a character is, and thus, color every interaction that character has. There's a reason Ultimate Selfhood is sought through Aspect, not Class - Aspect is the core of the character's being, what makes that person that person.

That all being said, Class has major sway over how an Aspect manifests, and certain classes can even invert the Aspect and even the character's role in the party. As such, these descriptions must be parsed carefully in relation to Class. Moreover, due to the soft magic system, there is at times overlap between unrelated Aspects, which can also be exacerbated by Class - Heart and Blood being the most obvious in this regard. Still, overall, you'll find the Aspects to be fairly distinct from one another.

Please also note that every Aspect can deal with its literal counterpart by default - Light players can wield lasers, Breath players can wield the breeze, et cetera. Because this kind of goes without saying, and because the non-literal stuff is more interesting to discuss, I'm not really going to go into too much detail about the literal qualities.

Finally, something interesting to note is that nearly every Aspect follows its own Hero's Journey cycle - full actualization for each one usually means reaching around to its opposite Aspect, and taking lessons from them - for example, Breath players need to learn maturity and responsibility, while Blood players need to learn relaxation and whimsy. Thus, an Aspect at its worst manifests in two ways - either a toxic overabundance of the Aspect's worst traits, or such a dearth of the aspect that it begins to resemble its opposite. Only by reaching into the opposite, however, can the player be tempered and reach full maturity - can they become more of who they are.

SPACE / TIME

Space and Time are both concerned with physical reality, goals, and the way one approaches them.

Space is associated with "the big picture" - with recycling, reproduction, and the interconnectivity of all things. The aspect also presides over the enjoyment of the journey over the destination - Space players serve as reminders that the present moment is as important as the end goal. Space is often a more passive Aspect, being the stage upon which the story is set. They're the hosts of the party, and the one who marks the ending.

Its players reflect these tendencies, often being feminine, with penchants for life-giving acts such as gardening. Their personalities tend towards frivolity and silliness, finding it difficult to stay on-topic or bring full gravitas to serious situations. Perhaps a better word would be "distractable;" when the aspect is so concerned with all things in connection with each other, it's easy to lose track of details, and it's easy to enjoy things simply as they come. Space players tend to be kind, patient, and forgiving, which is a strength as much as it is a flaw; it's easy for malicious actors to take advantage of this compassion, or for the Space player to find themselves in a poor situation by being overly permissive. They can easily be painted over by stronger personalities, and tend to struggle with romantic relationships, as they attract many with their kind and giving natures, and few are naturally so considerate of the Space player in turn.

"Passive" is a good word to use; at a toxic overabundance of their Aspect, Space players are trampled underfoot. They become enablers, servants to dark forces, or so lost in their own worlds that they neglect the one they live in. With their Aspect "inverted," a Space player becomes a demon of poor prioritization. Distracting not just themselves from their true purpose, but others, too, the Space player will wreak havoc by overemphasizing unimportant topics and ignoring important tasks. This superficially resembles Time, in that the Space player will become fanatically dedicated to their task, but note that the poor prioritization is still Space-esque at its core.

Still, within this nadir is a valuable lesson: the strength of self-assertion, and the determination to see a goal through. These will allow the Space player to weed their garden, separating good from bad, allowing it to flourish like never before.

Time, in contrast, is associated with "the little things" - with details, minutiae, and processes. Time presides over the struggle toward something greater, the endurance of hardship with an eye on the prize - the destination over the journey. Time players are the ones keeping track of the tasklist, marking off each item as it reaches completion; they are the tireless workers keeping the whole engine running.

Time players, thus, are ones whose lives are marked by struggle. They are highly goal-oriented; in contrast to how Space players can easily move from goal to goal, task to task, Time players feel bound to see things through to the end, finding satisfaction only when they've achieved their desired result - and only until they come across the next goal in their journey. A Time player isn't happy without a goal to work towards, a craft to polish, a prize to win - but this driven nature can easily be its own downfall, as it leaves little room for the player to admit to their own shortcomings, or ask for help from others. Moreover, their focus on minutiae can leave them blinded to the bigger picture, and it's easy for a time player to fall to despair, able to do nothing more but spin their wheels. They're prone to directionless anguish, frustration, and resentment towards the seeming futility of their actions, becoming destructive and defiant even when it doesn't serve them to do so.

At a toxic overabundance of their Aspect, Time players become explosively destructive. The ultimate "goal" of all things is death, with which Time is associated, and accordingly, Time players have a penchant for aligning themselves with futility and entropy, struggling so hard that their thrashing leaves a trail of annihilation in their wake. With their Aspect "inverted," Time players detach entirely - they can become so fed up with struggle that they simply opt to lay their weapons down and let the end take them. It's very easy for them to come to the conclusions that either everything matters, or nothing matters. This superficially resembles Space and its big picture thinking, but note that its framework of struggle, and whether or not a goal needs to be pursued, makes it a Time concern.

But the inherent meaninglessness of existence is, in itself, an important realization to make - that whether or not anything "matters" in the grand scheme, things can still be worth doing, worth caring about, and worth investing in. This realization allows the Time player to attack their goals with renewed vigor and greater clarity, which in turn means that the party becomes an efficient, well-oiled machine.

BREATH / BLOOD

Breath and Blood are both concerned with directionality, interpersonal relationships, and autonomy.

Breath is the Aspect governing freedom, liberty, and independence; it is a force that breaks shackles, clears out social norms, and refutes "the rules," whatever those rules may be. Breath players can't be tied down, whether by physical bonds, societal rules, or even the ineffable forces of the narrative itself. They are leaders of example, pioneers, and trailblazers, opening new paths for their teammates to follow.

Breath players are goofy and gullible, often with hearts full of childlike whimsy, naivety, and even immaturity. They are friendly and well-meaning, fond of simpler things, and easily swayed by others. They approach the world with a sincere and innocent good-naturedness, like a baby animal before it learns to be fearful of danger. Something about this sincerity seems to make Breath players irresistible to others, and they often find themselves the subject of romantic attraction. However, in this childishness is also the great pitfall of many Breath players - their natures are naturally conflict-averse, and egotistical the way a child can be, failing to see beyond themselves. They can be incredibly callous when not considering the consequences of their actions, or the viewpoints of others.

At their worst, Breath players are irresponsible and callous. They'll shirk the consequences of their actions, blaming anybody but themselves, or simply choose not to care who they hurt in order to get what they want. They may even choose to stop making choices for themselves, leading to the "inversion" of their Aspect - a voluntary loss of freedom and independence, derived from an Breath-like aversion to responsibility, which superficially resembles the bondage of Blood.

But if they are able to overcome these tendencies, a Breath player will learn what true responsibility looks like - responsibility for themselves, their choices, and the effect they have on others. Armed with this, a Breath player's ability to break bonds can be focused into a clear force for good, clearing away all obstacles and harmful societal standards, leading the charge into something new and beautiful.

Blood, in sharp contrast, is the aspect that governs bondage, contracts, and interdependence. It is a force that binds. Under Blood's sway are not only romantic entanglements, but familial, friendly, and societal ones as well. This aspect sees overlap with Heart, but the division is this: Heart concerns itself with feelings, and Blood concerns itself with compatibility. Blood players are diplomats, forces that remind us all that we are more similar than we are different, and that that similarity should bring us together when we are on the verge of pulling apart.

Blood players, reflective of their Aspect's association with bonds, tend to be neurotic and obsessive. They have a tendency to over-examine and overthink, constantly fretting over the infinite and infinitesimal variables that influence the shape of society and interpersonal relationships. However, this judgmental nature stems from a deep well of idealism and empathy; Blood players can't help but care about others and wish for the best for them. In a way, this makes them one of the most mature members of the team, being concerned with its overall well-being. Unfortunately, their prowess does not extend inwards, and their assessment of themselves is usually direly incorrect - all the worse because Blood players always feel responsible for those around them. Blood, being the Aspect concerned with interdependence, is the weakest one when all alone.

Thus, it's easy for the Blood player to wind up controlling - desperate to make sure everyone is moving according to their vision, they'll become iron-fisted dictators, with a "my way or the highway" approach to social interactions. It's easy for them to wind up pariahs of their own making, becoming so critical of others, or so adamant about enforcing their own will, that they inadvertantly sever their ties - something that superficially resembles Breath's independence, but is truly a result of Blood's neuroticism.

But with that space and separation can come great clarity. Blood players must learn to relax their grip, and allow people room to breathe - including themselves. Once able to grasp that sometimes bonds must be forged with a soft touch, Blood players' natural empathy shines through, allowing them to build something so much kinder and greater than the sum of its parts.

LIGHT / VOID

Light and Void are both concerned with knowledge, ontology, and "narrative relevance".

Light (as well as its counterpart) are perhaps best understood through the lens of "narrative" - this idea that, of all things that do and don't exist, and all events that do and don't happen, only the ones put to page are "relevant". Thus, Light is associated with knowledge and luck - that is to say, it's associated with the knowable, the objective, and the concrete, and the ability to determine "important" events. Light players have read the book they're participating in, and able to serve as luminary guides from one plot point to another, lighting the lampposts for others to follow.

Light players, naturally, are erudite and educated, possessing keen intellects and cunning minds. They are fond of knowledge itself, of markers of status and prestige - whether that's wealth, the adulation of the masses, or a massive library. They harbor a desire to be important, to be seen, to be acknowledged, and are happiest when they are looked up to. Conversely, they deal poorly with being looked down upon. Their confidence transmutes easily into hubris, and they struggle with having that pride challenged. As such, they tend to be volatile and unpredictable, quick to retaliate against those who threaten their egos, or obsequious to those whose acknowledgement they desire.

Their desire for the limelight can quickly spell disaster - they can become incredibly cruel, harsh, and egotistical in their pursuit of narrative significance. They forget, in their obsession, that they, too, are fallible and flawed, and the inevitable reminder can come very harshly. Light players struggle with moderation, and as such, when they feel shame, they'll often take drastic measures to cope with it - deliberately darkening their own influence or intellects, removing themselves from the "story" entirely - something which superficially resembles Void's penchant for the background, but which is firmly rooted in Light's obsessive need for drama.

But in experimenting with narrative insignificance, Light players can reach an epiphany - in their absence, others may shine, and that can be a wonderful thing. Light players, then, can learn to shine not just for their own sakes, but for the sake of others, allowing them to weave a story even more brilliant than any that can be weaved alone.

Void, in contrast, is the blank spaces between the words. That which is secret, subjective, unknowable - these are Void's domain. It's associated with taboos and hidden things, sexuality and pleasure. It's also associated with the empty canvas - the blank space before creation, and the oblivion to which creation is eventually destined for. Thus, it stands for infinite possibility, though the collapse of those possibilities into a reality removes that reality from Void's domain.

Thus are Void players ever cosigned to the background, though this generally suits them fine. Void players are very self-possessed. Where Light players tend to exaggerate and complicate, Void players are honest and simple, preferring straightforward solutions. They don't tend to think very hard, instead letting intuition and emotion guide them to where they want to be - which makes them one of the more stable personalities on a team. However, this simplistic, feelings-driven approach often leads to pleasure-seeking behavior, poor impulse control, and overindulgence in vice, and from there, to irrelevance, with which Void is so closely interlinked.

Void players are especially prone to vice, and at their worst, will become so drunk on pleasurable activities that they pursue them to the active detriment of the party's goals or the Void player's self-improvement - making them the ultimate irrelevant character. They can also very easily drag others into their mélange, with a forcefulness that resembles Light's illuminating guidance, but which is ultimately rooted in Void's pursuit of personal pleasure.

But there's a lesson to be learned in Light's domain: how to bring themselves into relevance and greatness. A Void player, once they learn to pursue not just personal pleasure, but a greater satisfaction for the collective whole, can drag the Void behind them, kicking and screaming, to where it'll be of use.

MIND / HEART

Mind and Heart are concerned with what it means to be a sentient being, with identity, and with why we do what we do.

Mind is the Aspect associated with logic, rationality, karma, ethics, and justice. To a Mind player, they "are" because they "think". They are keenly aware of the consequences of every action, and well-versed in cognition and behavior, such to the point of manipulating others with ease. Deeply concerned with the "effect" of cause-and-effect, Mind players are always cognizant of debts and credits, where justice is owed and where it has been over-meted, and their subtle machinations culminate, like well-placed dominoes, in grand and explosive finales.

Mind players are schemers - it's in their nature. They have a tendency to view the world as a puzzle or game, with themselves and the people around them as pieces on a board, and set as their standard rules the laws of ethics and karma - owed debts and overhanging credit - guilty and innocent. Mind players are wickedly cunning, and have an high success rate with every scheme they commit themselves to, but the grand downfall of all these tendencies is that they tend to lack in a sense of identity, and have a poor grasp on their own emotions or desires. While they may know how to provoke a desired reaction, they don't know how to change someone's mind. They often find themselves grappling very painfully with their own selfhood, with feelings of emptiness, inadequacy, or uncertainty.

Thus, a Mind player at the worst zenith of their Aspect is heartless and cruel. Leaving no space for empathy or even personal feelings in their plans, the Mind player will plot for an ending as heartless as they are. But a Mind player is never truly without emotion, and ignoring their own feelings causes them to manifest in terrible ways - Mind players have a tendency to seek toxic, codependent relationships, hoping to find external validation, subjecting themselves to the wishes of others, which can appear like Heart's fixation on feelings and desire.

But in recognizing their own need for emotional validation, and the importance of their own feelings, a Mind player can realize that there's an entire dimension to the game they've been playing that they've been ignorant of. When a Mind player learns to temper their schemes with empathy, compassion, and kindness, how much more success they'll see - and how much happier that grand finale will be!

Heart, then, is associated with feelings, motivations, intuition, the soul, and the self. To a Heart player, they "are" because they "feel" like they are - and they're keenly aware of the multitudes that are contained within themselves. Deeply concerned with the "cause" of cause-and-effect, they're drawn to desires, those of themselves and of others, especially where strong feelings are concerned. Heart players are gifted with an intuitive understanding of those around them, both their good and bad qualities, and are tasked with the grand task of bringing out the best.

It stands to reason, then, that Heart players have a firm grasp on who they are and what they want. For the same reasons, it's difficult for a Heart player to truly hate or condemn another person, because they are so adept at understanding them. However, this understanding comes with a price - because the Heart player is so aware of themselves, they can't escape their own worst traits - nobody self-loathes as accurately as a Heart player can. Nor can they ever truly be untruthful with another, making them poor manipulators. Capable of presenting a different facet of themselves as the situation calls for it, certainly, but just as it's impossible to lie to a Heart player, who always knows how someone really feels, it's impossible for a Heart player to lie to themselves.

With this sincerity comes vulnerability. Heart players wear theirs on their sleeves, and at their worst, this can make them demanding, needy, and sensitive - so eager to connect with others emotionally that they'll cramp themselves to fit others' desires. But they can't ever keep this up for long; Heart players have a tendency to withdraw from others after being hurt too often, finding it easier to be alone and silent about their feelings than to deal with the pain of rejection. They may even work to manipulate others, preying on their emotions and desires to force them to act in their worst interests. This superficially resembles Mind's cold logic, but unlike Mind's cool rationality, Heart's aloofness is a mask, an attempt to avoid pain by pulling away.

But this isn't purely a negative, because a Heart player can learn a healthier form of detachment, and separate out healthy and helpful desires from harmful and detrimental ones. Given this clarity, the Heart player becomes the team's emotional core, able to raise up each teammate's best qualities, while helping them deal with their worst, enabling everyone to be the best possible version of themselves - which the Heart player knew them to be all along.

LIFE / DOOM

Life and Doom are concerned with outlook, with journeys, and with trials and tribulations.

Life is an aspect concerned with healing, growing, and improving. It is associated with beginnings, optimism, and positive emotions. The very essence of Life lies in its healing abilities, in this idea of overcoming the odds and triumphing over hardship and difficulty. Life is action, movement, and motion, and its players can scarcely hold still. Life will find a way - and Life players harbor the same immutable belief; they are the most stubborn weeds in the garden, the cockroach that survives the apocalypse, and the beating heart that refuses to stop.

Life players tend to be optimistic and confident. They are self-assured individuals, with a stubborn belief that good things are on their way, and any hardship they face is not only temporary, but something that can be overcome. They can find the silver lining in any cloud, and enjoy themselves under any circumstance. They love to nurture, to care for others, though this love has a tendency to be one-sided. Indeed, Life's stubborn nature is its players' greatest pitfall; their persistence easily becomes obstinacy, and their confidence can become condescension. Their self-assured nature easily becomes egotism, and they can have great difficulty grappling with those who don't share their views - even coming to oppose those who bring emotional pain and suffering that can't be easily fixed.

It's very easy for a Life player to decide another person isn't worth their attention, and opt to leave them behind - after all, Life has to move forward, no matter what it tramples in the process. At their worst, they're stubborn to the point of not listening to anyone but themselves, confidence becoming blockheadedness. This focus on forward progress without looking back can even cause Life players to become harmful to others, so focused they are on their own growth that they don't notice that they're choking everyone else out. This may resemble Doom's death in its worst case - arresting everything else, eventually blocking even their own path with unruly, out-of-control fecundity.

Thus, a Life player needs to learn to more gracefully accept Doom's influence - to pause, slow down, and consider viewpoints that are negative, unpleasant, or difficult. A Life player, endowed with moderation, will be able to cultivate a bountiful garden, rather than an unruly jungle - a place for all to flourish and live in plenty, never wanting for anything.

Doom, then, is the aspect concerned with death, with rest, and with endings. Doom is associated with suffering and with negative emotions, with peace, with sleep, and with dreams. Doom players have a natural penchant for prophecy, and are often dual dreamers, able to take advantage of both Skaia's oracular clouds and the Horrorterrors' voices over Derse. All things must eventually come to an end, and not all times will be good; in these troubling times, Doom players shine, as they are the guides who call the murk home, and know best how to navigate rough waters, course-correcting until the storm passes.

Doom players tend to be deeply pessimistic. They experience, to a much more magnified degree than others, negative feelings and impulses, and it's difficult for them to see the world without seeing its flaws, first and foremost. They are not healers, but commiserators, those who understand greatest that sometimes there's no way to deal with tragedy but to simply sit with it and wait for it to pass. The counterpoint to Life's insistence on breathless positivity, Doom is a reminder that pain, grief, sadness, shame, and guilt are not unnecessary things - in fact, excising them can lead to terrible consequences. Doom players are the universe's martyrs, often taking it upon themselves to course-correct, to sacrifice themselves in order to give others a chance to continue on, to avert a terrible fate.

Unfortunately, this tendency also brings with it a tendency for Doom players to wallow in misfortune, or worse, to take themselves out of the picture, giving up entirely on seeing a better ending. As if energized by their own sense of futility, a Doom player at the "inverse" of their aspect may seem to echo a Life player's focus on forward progress and motion, actively spurring their team on towards an untimely demise.

A Doom player must learn to harness this sense of progress for good, rather than harm. A Doom player, once able to grasp the joy of life even in the greatest depths of despair, will be able to fill even the darkest hours with peace, meaning, and hope.

HOPE / RAGE

Hope and Rage are concerned with permission, and are the lens by which we define reality.

Hope is described by Hussie in the book commentary as being "framed as the most powerful aspect" because it is, literally, an aspect that defines reality. Its specific ability is lies in reducing the "fakeness attribute" of something, thus making it "real". Hope is associated with convictions, with idealism, with faith, order, holiness, and, of course, with magic - which Hope turns real. Hope is permission itself - a reality-breaking ability to look at the world and decree that it must be another way, a way in which the Hope player believes it ought to be.

Thus, Hope players tend to be hard-headed zealots, with no self-awareness whatsoever. Their inclination towards powerful beliefs makes them very difficult to dissuade from a path they've set their minds to, and their specific suite of abilities makes them terrifyingly likely to make their vision come true. Hope players are usually not particularly cunning, nor particularly intelligent, nor even particularly empathetic. Given the Aspect's focus on conviction and faith, it's usually very difficult for Hope players to notice anything occurring beyond their own minds and feelings. Thus are Hope players hopeless optimists, hopeless romantics, and hopeless in general - often great sources of embarrassment to their teams, as their naked sincerity is painful to witness. However, their ability to define reality does not leave them when their beliefs are faulty (which they often are, given Hope players are not particularly introspective, either), which is what makes a Hope player so dangerous.

A Hope player can easily be set on the wrong path - as convicted as they are, and as difficult to shake from that conviction as they can be, Hope players can easily march down a path of destruction, if not persuaded with a deft touch and gentle guidance. In the event that their faith is broken, Hope players easily become despondent and lost, floundering and wishy-washy, which superficially resembles Rage's self-consciousness, but is truly just a lack of direction.

But Rage has a powerful lesson to teach Hope players - that of questioning themselves, interrogating their own beliefs. Once their convictions have gone through rigorous scrutiny, revised into the best, brightest versions of themselves they can be, a Hope player is a worker of miracles - speaking into existence a beautiful future on faith alone, proclaiming that how they see the world is how the world shall be.

Rage, then, is the power of denial. If Hope reduces the "fakness" of a thing, then Rage reduces its "realness". Rage, too, is a means of defining reality, in this case taking a torch to the aspects of reality that it rejects. In more passive Classes, this works in subtler ways, stoking others towards destructive fury. Rage is associated with anarchy, chaos, revolution, destruction, anger, and nihilism. A Rage player will not suffer a world that does not satisfy them, breaking it to pieces, such that something new can take its place.

Therefore, Rage players are prone to harboring anger and resentment, discontentment with the status quo, and faith only in that what currently exists must somehow be dismantled. However, unlike Hope players, who can't help but be pathetically sincere, Rage players are incredibly self-conscious, and often try to mask and hide their embitterment and anger. This, ironically, leads to further ostracization, as others can tell they're being inauthentic. This only further compounds their sense of alienation, and drives them further into smoldering resentment. This makes Rage players sound volatile and dangerous, and they are - but the same fury that moves them is the fury that ignites revolts and tears down oppressive regimes, a necessary and vital well of energy and momentum. It takes careful handling to ensure that the team's Rage player can channel this energy towards righteous causes, rather than marking all as a target for their destructive ire.

In the worst-case scenario, the Rage player turns that rage out indiscriminately, deciding that there is nothing worth fighting for - only unpleasant things to be brought to ruin. This is Rage at its toxic overabundance. Conversely, a Rage player can retreat so harshly into their mask that they allow others to dictate their beliefs, taking them to heart - an action motivated by Rage's destruction (this time, turned inwards) that superficially resembles Hope's convictions and faith.

The true path for a Rage player is a healthy balance - to allow themselves some of Hope's sincerity, and by doing so, to become more sincere and true. This will let them release the pressure of their mounting ire, such that it can be converted into productive, rather than destructive, energy - the heralds of a revolution, razing away the faulty, corrupt old systems such that something better and new can take their place.

CLASS

As previously stated, Class governs a character's character arc - the character's starting circumstances, whether their conflict is primarily internal or external, and what major aspect of their Aspect becomes a hurdle for them to overcome.

In the same way an Aspect's sways tie into the character's base personality, the character's Class abilities tie into the kinds of struggles they face, and have great influence on how their Aspects manifest.

That being said, a character - and their Class - are always subject to their Aspect, as their Aspect is tied fundamentally into who they are. Thus, it can be said that a Light player will always have an affinity for knowledge and provide Seer-esque guidance even when not in a Seer role, a Doom player will always have prophetic abilities even with a non-prophetic class (note that Mituna, an Heir, still had prophetic visions, despite those generally being the realm of Mages and Seers), and a Life player will always have a penchant for healing, even paired with a destructive Class like Prince or Thief (the Condesce, after all, could still extend life; a Prince of Life would likely manifest not as one who causes plants to wither and die (this would actually suit a Prince of Doom), but one who destroys in the way of nature overtaking an abandoned shack, or a forest breaking down a body).

This means that when a character's Classpect inverts their Aspect, it doesn't mean that they suddenly become a hero of the opposing Aspect - rather, it means that, at their very worst - at the nadirs of their character arcs - they will lean so much into their Aspect's worst traits that it will superficially appear as the opposite, when all it really is is an absence of themselves. Dave, a Time player, usually so attentive to detail (despite his disaffected facade, he's always paying rapt attention to Karkat's rants, and noticing all the clues pointing to his destiny of defeating LE), at his lowest emotional point (arguing with Grimbark Jade after sobbing about his lost childhood whimsy), states that he doesn't think Lord English is that big a deal, and never even did anything directly bad to him or his friends - when he was literally directly haunted by LE via Cal his entire childhood. Similarly, Rose drinks herself stupid in order to cope with her mother's death.

Note how, superficially, this almost appears to be an invocation of Space's "big picture thinking," its passivity and permissibility, or how Rose's case appears to be Void's tendency to indulge in vices and pleasure - but they're not. Time's worst traits superficially resemble Space, Light's resemble Void, and vice versa - Grimbark Jade is the Condesce's taskmaster, and Porrim at her worst was as much of a nag as Kankri, trying to do a Time player's managerial job. Horuss and Equius at their worst won't shut up and won't stop talking over their partners. So on and so forth.

Finally, Calliope tells us a couple things about Active/Passive pairings. The first is that Calliope introduces the idea of paired classes with the idea that both Rogues and Thieves "steal" (and later, that both Princes and Bards "destroy"). This presents the idea that both classes can be roughly summed up with the idea that every pairing can be summed up with a common theme.

The second is her description of what makes a Class Active versus Passive - that Active Classes move their Aspect to benefit themselves, whereas Passive Classes allow their Aspect to be moved in order for others to benefit. In a way, they're like active and passive voice in grammar (to tie in with the way Classes and Aspects are so tied to ideas of narrative and character arc) - an Active Class performs their Aspect, and a Passive Class allows the Aspect to be performed "by others" (the famous piece of advice regarding telling the two apart being that a sentence written in passive voice can have "by zombies" tacked to the end of it - eg, John is attacked "by zombies", as compared to active voice - John attacks).

Thus, the Class pairings, along with their basic themes, are as follows:

KNIGHT - / MAID +

"One who controls."

Knights and Maids are paired together through two key factors: the first is that they both hold leadership or managerial roles; the second is that both classes carry the connotation of serving a Lord. Fittingly, they are both struggle with the control of malicious forces - Knights with prophecies indicating their role as heroes, Maids with direct usurpation by malicious forces.

PAGE - / HEIR +

"One who inherits."

Pages and Heirs are paired together because they both fundamentally deal with the great inheritances placed before them. Pages can come into incredible, limitless power - but they must struggle and work hard for it; Heirs begin the game in societal comfort and wealth, and must learn to defect from their decadence.

THIEF - / ROGUE +

"One who steals."

Thieves and Rogues are highly adaptable, as Thieves are capable of fantastic on-the-fly adaptation, whereas Rogues have an infinite toolbox at their disposal. They are both provocateurs, shakers of the status quo, though the Thief does so for personal gain, while the Rogue does so to right injustice.

MAGE - / SEER +

"One who guides."

Mages and Seers are tied together by the gift of prophecy and future sight. Seers are privy to the endless branching paths that the future may take, while Mages are gifted with the ability to outright determine a future that will certainly happen, appearing to be prophecy.

WITCH - / SYLPH +

"One who changes."

Witches and Sylphs are individuals blessed with great magic, but poor judgement. Sylphs heal and nurture, but are drawn to those with strong desires, and enable them to cause great harm; Witches, meanwhile, possess strong emotions, which they often use as moral guidance, for better or worse.

PRINCE - / BARD +

"One who destroys."

Princes and Bards are representatives of society - the one who determines its course, and the one who recounts its passing. Princes suffer from a toxic overabundance of Aspect, and are prone to spectacular meltdowns, whereas Bards are always poised for a crisis of faith. Both are responsible for catastrophic failures - but also breathless victories.

INDIVIDUAL CLASSES

KNIGHT

"One who controls [Aspect] or controls using [Aspect]."

Knights are frontline warriors, rallying points behind which the party falls into line. Although they are often leaders, just as often, they are logistical planners, strategists, or simply the team's beating heart. They are almost always thrust into positions of narrative significance, often carrying grand destinies or even outright heroic prophecies on their shoulders. The are the party's rallying force, its center, and a guiding light - the one to lead the charge, behind which the party will follow.

The primary character struggle a Knight will have is with crippling insecurity. Knights are prone to self-loathing and imposter syndrome, and will often adopt a façade in direct opposition to their aspect (ie, their fundamental personality) in order to cope with their feelings of inadequacy. Thus, their relationship with their aspect becomes love/hate - though they're naturally drawn to their aspect, and even naturally skilled at utilizing it, they have a tendency to become their own worst enemy, as their insecurities make them push their façades, and their façades distance them from their aspect.

"Controlling their Aspect" means that the Knight has easy access to their Aspect, wielding it like a tool or weapon - for good or for ill; "controlling using their Aspect" is what grants Knights their leadership abilities, able to dictate how others ought to act in accordance with the Knight's Aspect - whether their understanding of their Aspect is high or low, whether their advice is good or bad.

Therefore, at their worst, a Knight will fall prey to their insecurities, retreating into their facades, rejecting their Aspect, which will allow disharmony or misuse of it to proliferate throughout the team. They may even wind up deliberately twisting their Aspect's presence within the team so that they never have to be confronted by it; these distortions ripple outwards and eventually culminate in major catastrophes, all on account of the Knight's negligence.

But at their best, a Knight is a shining beacon and guiding light; when they come to terms with themselves, and allow themselves to be comfortable in their own skin - when they no longer allow themselves to be ruled by their insecurities and anxieties - they ensure that their aspect is harmonious wherever it appears throughout their party, and can wield it expertly as a weapon, as if it were their own flesh and blood.

MAID

"One who allows control through [Aspect] or allows [Aspect] to be controlled."

Unlike Knights, which take positions of frontline prominence, a Maid is a managerial presence in the backlines, though no less crucial for the smooth functioning of a party. Just as the invisible hands of the hired help keep a household running, the Maid will be called upon to provide vital services to keep the game stable, even if those services are more noticeable by their absence than their presence. Maids are often the party's unsung heroes or even shadow leaders, tugging at invisible strings, fingers on the pulse.

A Maid's primary character struggle will be that of escaping oppression. Maids tend to start the game in positions of subjugation or subservience, especially to malicious forces, and their abilities often end up being exploited to serve their masters' ends. Therefore, one may even have the impression that a Maid is ruled by their aspect, held prisoner and slave - at least until they're able turn the tables.

"Allowing their Aspect to be controlled" means that Maids are capable of directly dispensing their aspect unto others - a Maid of Time can dispense time unto foes, pausing them in their tracks; a Maid of Life can grant so much life that they can revive the dead. Their boons are great and direct, straightforward in a similar manner to Knights. "Allowing control through their Aspect" grants them their uncanny managerial abilities, as their aspect dictates the realm in which nothing occurs without the Maid's knowledge or permission, a realm made available to whomever the Maid's allegiance lies with.

Thus, at their worst, the Maid becomes a saboteur. Exploited by malign forces, their abilities to allow control over others through their aspect, or control of their aspect, makes them perfect vehicles by which their aspect can be hijacked or usurped, and made to turn against the party, and they often find themselves placed into these positions through no fault of their own. It takes the party banding together to shake off the forces that would keep a Maid in bondage.

However, at their best, Maids ensure that the party can never go too far off the rails. There is a place for everything, and everything will be in its place; a Maid is a supply line, a safe haven, and a promise that everything will be neat and tidy when the party returns from war. When the Maid belongs to themselves, their homestead becomes a fortress, and nothing occurs under the Maid's watchful eye without their express permission.

PAGE

"One who works to inherit [Aspect] or inherits [Aspect] for themselves."

Pages are a class defined by promise. As the name suggests, a Page begins weak, but has the great potential to develop into one of the most powerful players in the game. The exact nature of a Page's powers are vague, not because they are insignificant, but because they are so great that it's difficult to encompass them all. At the apex of their arcs, Pages are capable of miraculous feats, overpowering even Lords and Muses - if only they could reach that point and stay there.

A Page begins the game weakest of all, reflective of their long journey of growth. Where most classes only fall into deficit of their Aspect at their lowest emotional points, Pages begin their arcs in deficit - exhibiting character traits opposite to those their Aspect normally encompasses. Moreso than any other class, a Page must learn to grow into their Aspect. Weak-willed, naive, and easily hurt, Pages require careful nurturing if they're to come into their own.

"Working to inherit their Aspect" describes the endless journey of growth the Page must undertake - one with many missteps, backslides, and setbacks along the way. Still, they "inherit their aspect," meaning that their full potential, when realized, is overwhelmingly great - practically becoming their Aspect in humanoid form, capable of utilizing it to its glorious full potential.

However, their nature defeats them, and even if they can attain this state, the Page usually can't stay there for long. At their very worst, the Page's deficit of their Aspect's better qualities can turn the Page into a gravitic well of misfortune - an albatross about the party's neck, the centerpoint, if not inciting incident, of a massive disaster, as their team is sucked in by the Page's natural weakness.

But this is only true as it contrasts to a Page at their best - having grappled and won with the greatest of all weakness, a Page is poised to come into the greatest of all strength. Shown kindness, compassion, and support, a Page at full power reflects a party at their best. A Page at full strength is breathtaking to behold, an unstoppable force of nature, their Aspect made manifest.

HEIR

"One whom [Aspect] grants inheritance or inherits [Aspect] for others."

Heirs, in contrast to Pages, start the game strong. They usually belong to the upper echelons of their respective societies, a position of great wealth, leisure, and comfort, and are set to be inheritors of even greater wealth. Similarly, their Aspect comes to them as if of its own will - it is powerful, but difficult for the Heir to control, reflecting the wealth and status they've enjoyed as birthright.

An Heir's main challenge is that of examining their privilege, and learning where they wish to spread the gift they've been given. Because of their positions of sheltered comfort, Heirs are not particularly world-wise, and often harbor massive blind spots to the suffering of others and the ills of society. As such, they tend to be fairly aimless, given great power but no strong motivations, and have a tendency to simply indulge in their Aspect without contributing great help or hindrance to their team at all.

The Heir's Aspect is practically an independent entity. Being one whom "their Aspect grants them inheritance" refers to how the Heir starts powerful, able to summon their Aspect to perform great, miraculous acts. However, it is highly intuitive and difficult to control. The Heir's challenge lies not in attaining great power, but in attaining control over, and the ability to direct, their existing abilities. Once they do, they can "inherit their Aspect for others" - Heirs become a conduit through which their party can experience their Aspect, making it a usable pool of wealth for them all to draw from. However, because of their comfortable positions, many Heirs end up dallying, finding no pressing need to do so.

But this dallying hides a ticking clock. An Heir's inheritance will come to them, one way or another, and if they aren't ready to receive the great responsibilities that come with such great power, then the power will eventually consume them. An Heir with no clear direction will eventually become lost to their Aspect, entirely removing both from play. Like how wealthy inheritors simply become part of the status quo, so, too, does an Heir disappear into their Aspect, fixing it in place.

Thus, Heirs must learn where they have been blind, where they have been foolish, and what it means to be underprivileged. Then, once they turn their energies towards addressing those injustices - to taking responsibility for building a better future - when their wealth comes to them, they'll be able to distribute it where it's needed most. An Heir, fully-realized, brings their Aspect to heel, and makes it a resource available to their entire team, as if welcoming them all into the family.

THIEF

"One who steals [Aspect] or steals using [Aspect]."

Thieves are, as the name suggests, greedy - much of their arc revolves around a desire to amass wealth, though what's considered "wealth" varies based on the Thief and especially their Aspect. They tend to be callous people by nature, capable of ignoring or trampling over the feelings of others in order to take what they want, in the hopes of filling an emotional void the Thief may not even be fully aware of.

The Thief's playstyle is one of careful resource management. Reflecting a natural tendency to take "wealth" from others, Thieves are unable to use their Aspect without first "stealing" it - a subtractive act which leaves the victim bereft of the Aspect, weakening them in the process. Because of the finicky nature of these abilities, it takes great cunning to be a Thief, and the Class both demands and requires the player to be adaptable, flexible, and quick on their feet, able to effect complicated schemes and engineer the perfect situations for their powers to have the greatest effect. Thieves aren't necessarily strong, but they have a very high victory ratio, because they're experts at turning a situation to their own advantage.

"Stealing their Aspect" refers to the fundamental way in which the Thief class is played, this resource management game; "stealing using their Aspect" reflects how the Thief often becomes a malignant force within the party, viewing their own teammates as caches of wealth to plunder. Thieves are naturally prone to hurting others for their own purposes, craving drama and attention, and being of such callous dispositions that they're able to perform extreme acts of cruelty given the right motivations.

Thieves often become a target of ire within the party, disruptive forces whose quest for personal wealth and fulfillment comes at the cost of those around them. At their worst, they can bring so much heat down upon their own shoulders that the party feels the need to treat them like an enemy, which is disastrous for party harmony. Moreover, it's disastrous for the Thieves themselves, as Thieves seek wealth to compensate for some emotional emptiness, and making enemies of their friends only serves to deepen their ennui.

Thus, a Thief must be taught that true happiness and fulfillment doesn't come from the struggle for wealth, but from the building of something better with those they care about. A Thief, thus turned to heroic purposes, becomes the party's pinch hitter - an adaptable spy, an unpredictable maverick, an element of surprise - and above all, a reliable ally, capable of turning any tide in the party's favor.

ROGUE

"One who steals from [Aspect] or steals [Aspect] for others."

Rogues, on the other hand, call to mind such figures as Robin Hood, stealing from the rich to distribute to the poor. Rogues are at their best when they're agents of a well-planned heist, as they possess an unlimited toolbox - their own Aspect - to play with. Their Aspect is a treasure trove, just waiting for the Rogue to plunder it and share its riches - if only the Rogue can figure out how.

Rogues are forces of revolution. They naturally carry a rebellious spirit, one which bristles at injustice, takes a stand against authority, and questions the status quo. Their ideas are unfocused, however; they know they must rebel, but usually don't start with a clear idea of against who or what. They know that their society is injust, but they don't know how to address that injustice. They know there are villains, and may even know these villains' identity, but they don't know how best to defy them. In a similar way, they're often lost as to how to utilize their Aspect beyond its most basic applications, and usually require external assistance in order to bring out its full potential.

Rogues' true potential lies in "stealing from their Aspect" - an additive act, rather than a subtractive one, as a Thief's stealing is. Rogues are capable of removing their own Aspect's sway over another entity, allowing it to exhibit the characteristics of the opposite Aspect; a Rogue of Void can create things out of nothing, a Rogue of Heart can tease out behaviors and actions. They can also "steal their Aspect for others," allowing them access to their own Aspect's suite of abilities as well. This allows the Rogue incomparable flexibility, their abilities - like their dispositions - rebellious and subversive.

But their rebellious spirit, coupled with their lack of understanding as to who their real enemies are, is dangerous when left unchecked. Rogues often suffer from a failure to start, giving up on trying to understand the deeper implications of their abilities, and of the society they can't seem to find contentment in - but they can also suffer from a worse fate: rebellion without a cause. Rogues' free spirits can lead to them bucking the status quo in ways that actively harm others, performing acts of taboo or poor taste just because that rebellious energy needs to be put to use somewhere. These can have disastrous knock-on consequences, as some things are taboo for good reason.

Thus, Rogues need to be guided - to make connections with others, and come to a greater understanding of the world at large. Once they know their target, and what needs to be done, the Rogue makes sure there are no obstacles along the way - no safe is uncrackable, no prison inescapable, and no problem unsolvable, so long as the Rogue is there to work their magic.

MAGE

"One who guides [Aspect] or guides [Aspect] for themselves."

Mages are prophets, of the "always correct" variety - or so it seems. In actuality, Mages don't "predict" the future, they "choose" it - in a setting where the future is mutable, the Mage's ability is to speak into existence a future they desire, to tip the scales of causality and collapse possibilities into a single definite course. Their Aspect is the lens through which their "prophecy" occurs, a realm in which they command the fabric of reality itself.

As if to karmically balance this incredible power, Mages are afflicted by deep and terrible sadness. They start the game miserable, having been subjected to the greatest injustices their Aspect can offer, tormented by guilt, shame, and self-loathing. Their worldview has been shadowed with a lens of suffering and anguish, and so, too, is their view of the future. Mages usually begin the game having already set several prophecies into motion, and these early prophecies are usually obstacles that the party must overcome.

Mages "guide their Aspect" - this refers to the way their prophecies, that is, their chosen futures, always come true. Their visions may be limited to the sway of their Aspect, but it remains a powerful ability nonetheless. "Guiding their Aspect for themselves," then, outlines the Class's Active nature - the futures the Mage picks must be ones the Mage believes will come to pass.

Unfortunately, Mages have a tendency to pick ugly futures. This isn't out of malice or anger; this is because Mages start the game sad, and without intervention, grow sadder. They're prone to spirals of negativity, self-loathing, and depression, and as their outlook dims, so, too, do their forecasts. Mages suffer, but even suffering can grow familiar - can even appear comfortable or desirable, if the Mage suffers long enough. It's easy for them to grow so accustomed to misery that misery is the only outcome they can see - spelling doom for the rest of the party, one prediction at a time.

But a Mage whose party shows them kindness and forgiveness, compassion and empathy, can pull them out of their misery. How beautiful, then, the future appears! A Mage who believes in a brighter future is a force to be reckoned with. When a Mage can bring themselves to say, "and everyone lived happily ever after," you had better believe they did.

SEER

"One who who is guided by [Aspect] or guides [Aspect] for others."

Seers, meanwhile, are the true future-sighted, able to see the myriad paths the future could take. Like Mages, their Aspect serves as the lens by which their vision is colored; the Seer can sense, with fine accuracy, which paths are closest to the sway of their aspect, and which paths will take them further away. As if gifted with a guide to the game, their intuition is tied directly to the mechanics of SBURB, and they serve as the party's guides, a role indispensable in a game with so many moving parts.

Seers will struggle with blindness, first by hubris and ego, and then by self-harm. Seers begin the game quite full of themselves, proud of their prowess in their Aspect - usually arrogantly so. When this pride is inevitably shattered, Seers have a tendency to deal with their feelings of shame and guilt with willful, self-induced blindness - as if flipping a switch, they become ashamed of the pride they once placed in their Aspect, and seek to place as much distance between it and themselves as possible. There's comfort in ignorance, even if it renders the Seer useless.

Seers are "guided by their Aspect" - able to sense its presence, they gravitate toward it, and towards futures with it in abundance. And, in the same way, they "guide their Aspect for others," lighting the way for others down the path of greatest reward. Seers truly love their Aspect, no matter how much they may misplace their faith in it, and seeking it out is a great joy for them.

This is why a Seer at their worst is so tragic. By inducing intentional blindness within themselves, they are functionally deadening the strongest part of their soul. No matter the temporary relief this brings to the sharp, jagged pain of shame, it invariably deepens the Seer's suffering, as they deny themselves not only their own joy, but their ability to help others - another act which inherently delights them.

Thus, a Seer needs to be made to deal with their shattered ego head-on, to accept their own shortcomings, to become at ease with the idea that they don't have all the answers. Once their vision becomes clear, and their view becomes honest, the party nevermore has to fear becoming lost or straying from the path - the Seer will see to that.

WITCH

"One who changes [Aspect] or changes [Aspect] in others."

Witches are the winds of change, tweaking reality all around them until it suits their desires. A Witch is presence that commands both fear and respect, and their Aspect bows down before them, reduced to a mere minion in the Witch's presence, ready to attend to all their needs. In a way, the Witch's powers are straightforward - they can manipulate their Aspect as they desire, changing its qualities as they see fit. "How they see fit," then, is where the issue lies.

Witches are usually of "outsider" status, never truly being part of the society from which the rest of the party descends. Free from the same rules and common sense that govern the others on their team, Witches instead operate on a value system heavily reliant on their own emotions. What a Witch deems to be correct, to be true, or to be righteous, are often based not in any objective measure, but in subjective, emotional bias - and they're emotional creatures, indeed. Prone to fits of great anger, Witches can be benevolent one second and malicious the next, and their abilities let them imprint, to a greater degree than any other Class, their desires onto the world that comes after them.

Witches "change their Aspect," as in, the crux of their abilities lies in manipulating the qualities of their Aspect in their surroundings - extending, shortening, magnifying, shrinking, growing, removing… so on and so forth. It's a fearsome power. They also "change their Aspect for themselves" - their Aspect is hapless but to obey their desires; Witches change the world to suit themselves, and their feelings of how things "should" be often become how things "are" in short order.

Thus, a Witch who has been swayed toward evil entities and nefarious ends is a truly dangerous opponent - and it is unfortunately easy for this to happen. Witches' social isolation means they tend to trust their emotions, and a force that flatters these emotions can easily win a Witch's trust. By the same token, those that fail to flatter the Witch are often considered enemies, even if they're benevolent forces. A Witch's morality can thus become warped and topsy-turvy, which has grave consequences for the world that the Witch then shapes.

Therefore, a Witch's struggle lies in learning to see beyond their own emotions, to take in the opinions and assistance of others even when it seems superficially unpleasant, to move beyond the childlike rejection of that which is uncomfortable. Once able to see a more nuanced form of right and wrong, once able to tell evil from good, Witches can build even utopia.

SYLPH

"One who allows [Aspect] to change others or changes [Aspect] for others."

Sylphs are nurturers and healers; they bring to mind fey folk whose very footsteps cause plants to grow. Wherever they go, whatever they touch, all becomes suffused with the Sylph's Aspect, which flourishes under their careful cultivation. Sylphs adore their Aspect, and their Aspect adores them; Sylphs generally feel at peace with themselves, surrounding themselves with what they like.

A Sylph's main challenge - or rather, the main challenge that Sylphs wind up posing the rest of the party - is that Sylphs are enablers. They're attracted to those with strong wills and extreme dispositions, amused by the havoc they wreak and pleased by their attention. Sylphs love to pick out favorites and lavish them with care and attention, excusing any wrongdoing on their behalf and shielding them from consequences. At the same time, those who don't strike the Sylph's capricious fancy find themselves discarded in the Sylph's mind, shut out from the boons the Sylph can provide.

A Sylph is "one who allows their Aspect to change others" - this almost always manifests as healing, as it's an additive ability (that is to say, the Sylph can grant more of their Aspect to someone). "Changing their Aspect for others," on the other hand, explains this enabling nature of theirs - the Sylph will intervene to make the world into a playground for their favored individuals, even to the point of turning other, less "interesting" teammates into playthings for the Sylph's beloved.

Thus, while the Sylph themself isn't particularly prone to wild mood swings and acts of malice, their influence can still cause disaster by allowing unscrupulous individuals to flourish - even encouraging their worst tendencies. A Sylph's touch is subtle, but that subtlety only lends it an insidious quality, as the Sylph quietly works against the good of the many for the cruel, selfish pleasures of the few. At their very worst, the Sylph can deem themselves their only favorite, and render everyone else a minor character in their one-man show.

Thus, Sylphs must be challenged. They must be made to reckon with the fact that favorable treatment is not necessarily kindness, and that bias can easily become harm. When a Sylph is able to grasp the difference between bias and doing good, and tune their approach toward that greater good, uncolored by bias and personal preference, then there is no place safer, kinder, and more conducive to growth than the Sylph's embrace.

PRINCE

"One who destroys [Aspect] or destroys using [Aspect]."

Princes are the most anxious, psychologically anguished members of a party. They suffer from a toxic overabundance of their Aspect - its traits are taken to an extreme, and not only the Prince, but those around them, are made to suffer for it. Princes are naturally set on a path of self-destruction, the culmination of their uncontrolled accumulation of their Aspect, and their meltdowns are spectacular, taking their Aspect - and whoever is unlucky enough to be in the same room - with them.

A Prince's challenge, therefore, is as simple to understand as it is difficult to overcome. The Prince needs to learn how to calm down, relax, and find inner peace. Princes are terribly prone to circular thinking and downward spirals. Their natural inclination is to feel anxious and responsible, like they carry the weight of the world, and this causes them to act out in extreme and aggressive ways. Eventually, others pull away, put off by the Prince's intensity. This only deepens the Prince's malaise, and Princes are - pushed by this hovering sense of urgency and catastrophe - willing to employ drastic, desperate measures to enforce compliance with their wills. They wake on their moons early, reflective of their driven natures. They're determined to a frightful degree, and no sacrifice is too great, no work too dirty, if it means achieving what they see as the greater good.

Princes "destroy their Aspect" in this way - by presenting their Aspect at its worst, they make others take distance, ruining it for everyone else. Their hard wills, intense emotions, and unshakeable drive to do what (they feel) needs to be done - at any cost - is their source of power. Thus, Princes "destroy using their Aspect" - their toxic overabundance of Aspect lets them channel it into a pure, annihilatory force; what they lack in the delicate utility of the other classes, they make up for in raw, ruinous power. Princes can easily deal the greatest damage in a combat scenario, their ability to destroy overriding nearly everything that would stand against it.

Thus is the problem with Princes. They're ticking time-bombs of anxiety and frustration; when they finally go off, they carve a path of destruction, before ultimately self-destructing, leaving no trace of their Aspect behind. Not only that, but it's very difficult to defuse the bomb early; Princes have finicky, aggressive, and complicated personalities, and tend to react poorly to straightforward attempts to calm them down and reason with them. They often appear to be their own worst enemies, marching inexorably toward their own destruction.

But Princes not only can be saved, but must be saved. They must be saved because kindness and compassion must exist for their own sake, and a Prince rescued from their own worst tendencies is living proof of the truth of that sentiment. A Prince, given the peace they need to reorient their priorities, will not rest until they see a brighter future realized. They will be the first to rise, and the last man standing, banishing - as if by royal decree - all obstacles, all enemies, all misfortune, and all ills.

BARD

"One who invites destruction through [Aspect] or allows [Aspect] to be destroyed."

Bards are the wild cards of a party, responsible for both improbable victories and catastrophic defeats - sometimes both in a single session. The methods by which a Bard works are a mystery to even the Bard themselves, which make it easy for the party to dismiss their powers - and, by extension, the Bard themselves. After all, who would expect there to be consequences for something so ridiculous as a Bard?

Bards are usually targets of abject ridicule by their teams. They can't help it - they're religious types, or at least types that hold great, lofty, ridiculous beliefs near and dear to their hearts. A Bard's primary struggle invariably winds up being a crisis of faith. Bards begin the game with a positive, "correct" faith in their Aspect; however, something will inevitably occur that shakes the Bard's faith in this viewpoint to its core. In this state, Bards are incredibly fragile, and it's very easy for them to succumb to whispers of cruelty and destruction, for their beliefs to warp, and for the Bard to come to serve the worst aspects of the society they represent.

A Bard "invites destruction through their Aspect" - their powers are subtle, but have catastrophic effects. Bards are instinctively drawn towards causing the first flap of a butterfly's wing, which cascades into a grand, impossible karmic backlash. They "allow their Aspect to be destroyed" by being the conduits for the forces of their faith - whatever faith they hold - to wreak unimaginable consequences across the game.

Thus, a Bard must not be allowed to fall into darkness. The cost is too great. They must be treated with kindness, patience, and sincerity, and given a chance to re-establish their faith in a better, brighter future. If this can be done, then at the party's direst moment - in their darkest hour - they will find that kindness paid back a thousandfold, as an innocuous act by the Bard that no one remembers balloons into a miracle.

#homestuck #homestuck analysis #classpect #classpecting #classpects #homestuck classpect #this essay is 10k words long #you may be wondering why i didn't split it up into smaller essays and the answer is pretty simple #so many of these ideas are interconnected and interrelated that it's not actually useful to hear about JUST Hope or JUST Maids or JUST Heir #like even aside from the equal-and-opposite splits #(which is how some of the less thoroughly explored classes and aspects need to be understood)#there's things like how pages actually start in deficit of their aspect personality-wise #jake has few convictions and is wishy-washy - tavros lacks freedom and independence - horuss lacks simplicity and emptiness #this isn't something you would “get” if you didnt know about the way aspect is tied to personality #it's fascinating because if you compare characters that share the same class similar things keep jumping out #but yeah again i have textual evidence to support every claim so please feel free to ask #i just couldn't justify doubling or even tripling the length of the essay to include things like #'ever notice how karkat - the BONDS and FRIENDSHIP knight - has a big Leader Who Dont Need No Friendship persona #and how dave - the Details and Minutiae knight - has a disaffected coolkid who doesn't give a shit about anything persona #and how latula - the Justice and Cunning knight - has a loud dumb obnoxious gamegrl nice-to-everyone persona #which she even admits is a persona she uses to hide how smart she is out of the apparent anxiety that people won't like her otherwise #i know people will object to the heir thing because 'mituna was oppressed on beforus' but let me clarify here #heirs are set to inherit comfortable lifestyles and wealth *by the standards of their society*#john is literally the heir of crockercorp and equius is blueblood nobility #but if you really think about it those aren't necessarily happy outcomes either #john would've had to become a stuffy businessman like Dad (and an evil capitalist lol)#and equius is also Still Oppressed and would've had to become a murderer cop #but it's still a position of wealth and comfort *for their society* - mituna would've been culled (like sollux)#but that would've meant being pampered and provided for #which is a great deal by the standards of his society regardless of how good or bad (bad) it actually is in practice

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mariasont · 1 year ago

Text

My Boss Won't Be Happy About This - A.H

a/n: back to bimbo brain rot!!!! inspired by the first season that one episode (you know the one) where hotch is all macho man with elle in jamaica

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: aaron hotchner x bimbo!assistant!reader

summary: you’re wrongfully arrested and hotch is not happy about it

warnings: creepy officer, inaccuracies of how law enforcement works, hotch being sexy

wc: 1.3k

"Listen I'm not the type of girl to tell someone how to do their job, but I just don't think you're doing it right."

You were speaking to an empty room, or at least, you were speaking to the mirror in front of you. It's the kind of mirror you had seen in countless interrogation scenes, the kind you usually image Hotch standing behind. You let your gaze linger, wondering if eyes are studying you from the other side, listening to your monologue.

"Well, that, and I also just don't think it's very nice." Your brand spanking new heels were tapping against the dirty floor.

You weren't happy about that. You weren't happy about any of this. Your feet ache, but the fear of the germs lurking on the floor paralyzes any thoughts of relief by removing your shoes.

"And hey, shouldn't I get a phone call? That's a rule, I think," you mumble, lips turning downward in an unusual frown. It seems like the right time for it. "My boss is not going to take this well. I mean, he's got this look, you know? The kind that makes you want to apologize for things you didn't even do."

You conjured up his daunting expression and released a jittery laugh, all while striving to disregard the biting cold blasting from the AC vent, which seemed determine to freeze you into place.

You were seriously out of your element, not just in surroundings but in dress--so form-fitting it left very little to the imagination. It seemed to be a good idea for a date. That was before you realized said date would be a complete disaster. Now, it felt like a trap. It had been a spectacle for a man unworthy of the effort, and as you sat in this rigid chair, you found yourself tugging at the hem every other moment, a futile attempt to preserve some semblance of modesty.

"So, when he hears about this little error... Well, let's just say I wouldn't want to be in your shoes." Six hours had passed in this dreary space, and you could feel your sanity fraying at the edges. You muttered, half to yourself, "Not that they're as cute as mine, but you get the point."

The door hinge's creak made you sit bolt upright, a silent supplication for Hotch's rescue echoing through your mind. But today, it seemed, the gods were indifferent. The officer who had arrested you stepped in.

"Having fun talking to yourself?"

You flashed your sweetest smile. "Oh, tons! But I'd have much more fun if you'd uncuff me."

He said nothing, folding his arms over his chest as he dragged his gaze up and down your body in a way that made your skin prickle in discomfort. You attempted to dispel the creeping dread, but it stubbornly lingered.

You did what you could to cover up, despite the awkward angle of your arms. "Listen, this is all just a big mistake. I work for the FBI," you insisted, though it was clear the officer's attention was fixated on your tits rather than your words. "Well, I mean, I'm an assistant for the unit chief of the BAU unit. You've heard of Aaron Hotchner, haven't you?"

The officer's mouth closed without a word, as the door was thrust open yet again, and this time, your heart leapt in recognition. Your knight in shining armor with a lethal expression.

His eyes instantly zeroed in on the officer with a look that could curdle blood, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief that you weren't the object of his anger. He approached you wordlessly, his every motion precise and determined.

He carefully shed his jacket, a gesture he seldom made, and draped it across your shoulders. The fleeting caress of his hand against your skin was enough to make you lean into his touch. You let out a breath that you had been unconsciously holding back.

You watched as Hotch turned, his voice a low, steady force, his words carefully chosen and tinged with an unsettling peace. "Officer," he began, the title spoken almost as warning. "I believe there has been a grave misunderstanding. This woman is not only an esteemed member of the FBI, but she is also under my direct supervision."

He stepped closer, encroaching on the officer's personal space. You watched, almost in slow motion, as the officer's expression morphed into one of sheer terror, his earlier confidence dissolving like sugar in hot tea.

"Six hours," he continued, his voice never rising yet somehow it took up all the space in the confined room. "Six hours of unwarranted detention, without due process. I expect her immediate release. And make no mistake, this lapse in judgment will have its ramifications."

The officer was mute, his fingers clumsily unlocking the handcuffs, his movements hurried, his hands trembling. A twinge of pity flickered within you, but it was quickly overshadowed by the memory of considering the table as a makeshift blanket.

The moment the metal clicked open; you wasted no time. You flung your arms around Hotch, the pent relief and biting chill of the past few hours pouring out of you. You were desperate for warmth, specifically his warmth.

He stiffened, caught off guard by your actions. You feel the anger radiating through him, practically pulsing through his skin. As you clung to him, you felt the draft on your legs as your dress slid up, and without missing a beat Hotch's hand discreetly adjusted the fabric, all while keeping his eyes locked on the officer, a silent warning in his gaze.

Once he was certain you were decently covered, he allowed himself to draw him into his arms. One arm secured around your waist, the other weaving through your hair. You were cold. It renewed another tide of rage through his bloodstream.

With the officer's departure, the room's oppressive atmosphere lightened a touch, leaving you still latched onto your boss.

"Oh, sir, you wouldn't believe it," you started, his hands tracing up your spine and sparking a trail of goosebumps that had nothing to do with the chill. "They kept asking me about a heist, as if I'd know anything about that! And then they show me this picture, and I mean, sure, she had my hair, but that's about it."

You rambled on, and he let you, the absurdity of the situation pouring out in a stream of consciousness. Hotch's hold on you tightened. You could sense the coiled tension in him, a tempest of anger held a bay.

"And the room, it was so cold! I mean, I'm sure you can tell. My teeth were chattering, and all I could think of was how I'd rather be filing your paperwork or listening to Reid's factoids about the quantum mechanics of coffee beans."

You felt Hotch's breath on your hair as he let out a sigh.

"I'm just glad you're here now," you whispered, finally allowing yourself to relax in his embrace.

Hotch gave a curt nod, his jaw set. He was itching to confront the officer, to unleash a tirade not meant for your ears. But he was well aware of how much you needed him right now, and that trumped everything in his book.

Hotch took a moment to compose himself before speaking. "This isn't just incompetence; it's negligence. I will have this place reevaluated for its standards, or lack thereof."

You took a step back, hands still resting on his arms, and he maintained his grip on your waist. "I bet this is the last time you'll let me go on a date without a full background check on the guy, huh, sir?"

Hotch's hold on your waist firmed just a fraction. "Maybe it's the last time I let you go on a date, period."

He was only half-joking.

"Not even with you?" You tilted your head to meet his gaze, drawing his jacket closer around you.

Hotch just simply gives you that look, the one that says a thousand words without a sound. He's telling you to tread lightly.

"Alright, I'll be good," you giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders. "Can you take me home now, please?"

He nods, "Yeah, let's get you home."

And then he leads you out, thinking to himself that the next person to take you out will be him, but that's for him to know and you to find out later.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x fem reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo reader #aaron hotchner x bimbo!reader #hotch #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner fic #hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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akanemnon · 20 days ago

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So um..................

I know your on a break but uh.. it was bound to happen but I suppose some things don't make sense now in twin runs right like toroiel.?

But also OH MY GOD WHAT A RIDE

What are your thoughts on the new chapters?

I suggest you read this post or the FAQ

Either way Deltarune Chapter 3 and 4 talk under the cut

SOOOOOOO that just happened.

I know the two chapters would be very different in tone, but I didn't think it would be THAT stark of a contrast.

I REALLY did not expect the Roaring Knight to make an appearance that early as Chapter 3. I honestly thought they would make their first appearance in Chapter 4, BUT I'M NOT COMPLAINING. Because WHOOOO that was a ride. I'm quite bad at the game, so I didn't get the shadow mantle before the encounter. But I DID see what happens when you actually go ahead and beat them! That puts so much shit into perspective. Especially with everything that's involving Kris.

I'm sure the fandom is busy putting all the puzzle pieces together and stuff. I know I AM! But it does feel nice to see that my interpretation of their dislike for the Player but outright needing them is pretty accurate. I didn't expect to be smacked with hockey stick, but hey... I getchu Kris. And I am really sorry.

ANOTHER thing I called was how dead people can turn into Darkners when tethered to an object. I feel really vindicated in my writing when I saw that.

Also can we talk about Gerson???? CAN WE TALK ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING GERSON BOOM???? Man, I am SO GLAD he got to shine in chapter 4. His presence in Undertale as a veteran of the human and monster war was already super interesting. And now he is IN THE FRIGGIN SPOTLIGHT AS A MENTOR FIGURE. I AM EATING THIS UP. Also his battle theme is a certified banger.

Oh yeah, speaking of the characters in general, I am SO HAPPY how much growth we got from both Susie and Ralsei in these two chapters. It is so insane how well-written these characters are. IT FEELS SO FUCKING REAL. Man, this is why Toby is such a big inspiration in writing for me. AND I DIDN'T EVEN MENTION TENNA YET????? I swear, when I first saw him I was instantly thinking of all the other Tenna interpretations out there and how they could have NEVER predicted this. And the SPAMTON CONNECTIONS??? These two idolized one another and took so much from each other but could never be the other. That is both sad and hilarious at the same time-

ALSO THE FUCKING TITAN AT THE END????? Now I can see why Toby would've never been able to do Deltarune as his first project. This shit was INSANE /verpos

I could go for hours about this btw. Still finding secrets here and there and rewriting bits from The Other Script as we speak...

#ask akane #twin runes #deltarune spoilers #dr spoilers #deltarune chapter 3 #deltarune chapter 4

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221bshrlocked · 6 months ago

Text

Defenses

Pairing: Captain Rex x Jedi AFAB!Reader

Words: 17,202 (apologies)

Warnings: Mutual Pining. Idiots in Love. Misunderstandings (that are addressed throughout). Overprotective Rex. Innocent touches turn Not-So-Innocent...Love Confessions. "Enthusiastic" Feelings. Dirty, Sweet Talk. Brief Oral (female receiving). Brief Hand Job. Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.

Summary: Under the assumption that your friend's Captain cannot stand the sight of you, you steer clear of him throughout the Life Day Celebrations. But when the diplomatic visit takes an unexpected turn, you're forced to act as bait so Anakin and Rex capture the assassin chasing after the Prince of Dondri. An accidental encounter on the final night of the mission brings clarity to certain matters for you...and reveals some of your own secrets to Rex.

Prompts: The Christmas ornament is supposedly enchanted. // Scene inspired by the image of a boat decked out in Christmas lights. // After the blizzard hits, they’re stuck together for a while, and they have to stay warm.

A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying their holidays. This gift is for the lovely @loving-the-cambridges who's also taking part of the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange . Your little prompts are fanfic heaven for me so I hope I incorporated them to your liking, albeit with the twists I made to them. And I am so so sorry for the slight delay friend!!! Happy Reading :D

P.S. It's overdue by a year but I'm also writing this for the @clonexreaderbingo challenge (which was about a year ago).

As the festivities continue, you look to the sky and find yourself meditating on the constellations twinkling high above the laughter and dancing. You wander along the edge of the celebrations, the sound of music and enthusiastic drinking fading into the background and pushing a smile onto your features. You watch as the 501st relax with the people of Dondri, and if you didn’t know better, you would think this was another normal rotation for them. But as all things, the joy goes as quickly as it comes when you look towards one particular member of the legion and find him standing near the Prince, his eyes scanning the crowd to ensure the safety of the royal family.

Maker, it truly was unfair how effortlessly attractive that man was. Whatever he was doing, even if he was merely lounging or standing quietly and doing nothing, he looked absolutely exquisite. And with every ounce of your being, you wished you were only physically attracted to him. But the opposite was true; the genuine dedication and care he upheld with everything that he did was what first caught your eye. Never have you met someone as tender and responsible as him. It would have been so much easier if you just found him objectively handsome, but like everything you’ve had to reevaluate recently, you knew whatever emotions stirring within you each time you are in his presence were based on more than his looks. It was such a dangerous thought process though, because for the first time since you were knighted, you genuinely debated ignoring the rules and confessing to him your feelings. He was everything you could ever want and so much more.

Too bad he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

It was so unfortunate, but perhaps it was for the best. Maybe if the feelings were mutual, things would have been more complicated, more so for him than for you. So much would have been at stake, the most important being his position and well-being. But a part of you secretly hoped that he, at least, tolerated working with you. And you would have thought he did, if it weren’t for the fact that he tended to leave every time you were in the same room. Each suggestion you made, he would meet with some bit of hostility, not disrespect, but just irritation at the prospect of carrying out your commands. It was horrible.

Yet it made you want him all the more. He had a sense of honor that he upheld more than most, a trait that was rare during these times. A characteristic that made you avoid him at every chance you could so as to not make him uncomfortable. You were not his General, but you were a General, one that he would have no choice but respect publicly. It made no sense to limit his whereabouts, certainly not during a time like this.

Which is how you found yourself walking away each time he joined your company. If you were discussing an issue or two with Anakin and he joined, you would excuse yourself, telling both men that they could handle whatever the problem was without your help. If you were playing sabbac with Fives and Kix, and he sat beside them, you would feign a headache and leave, letting them know that you would get some rest. And if you were hanging around the royal family, learning about the Life Day Celebrations on their planet and saw him walking towards you, you would let them know that you were to make rounds for the night and exit the room, not once looking back as you left him behind. Granted, it made things especially difficult since you needed to discuss much with the Prince and his sister, and he was, somehow, always around you when you were with them, but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him further.

Whatever grudge he held against you did not need to grow simply because of your ego.

No. It was best you watched him from afar. It had to be.

You make your way towards one particularly large tree, hiding behind it in order to look at the man without anyone noticing. Always putting his job before anything else, Rex stands firmly in his place, arms crossed in front of him and lips pouting in attention. You allow your eyes to move down his form, and silently curse yourself when you realize where your mind may be racing towards.

“Stare any harder and he might magically appear in front of you.” You shut your eyes and drop your face forward to hide the heated flush making its way towards your cheeks. Of course he knew where you’d be standing, and who you’d be daydreaming about.

“Shouldn’t you be talking to the Prince about his involvement in the war?” You begrudgingly hiss at him, knowing that your reaction will be adding fuel to the fire.

“Shouldn’t you?” Anakin retorts instantly, making you wish you weren’t chosen for this mission.

“I would, except everyone on this planet is currently into their third cup of Corellian whiskey so I highly doubt anyone will be paying attention.” You finally turn around and face Anakin, already hating the smirk on his face when he notices how flustered you are.

“Funny, that’s exactly why I’m not talking to him either.” He steps in front of you and rests his weight on the tree, throwing back a cup of maker knows what before handing it to you.

“No, thank you.”

“You need it more than I do,” he shoves it one last time into your hands, nodding in victory when you take it and drink the rest of it down. You wince at the bitter taste but silently thank him for handing it to you. Neither of you say anything for a while, more entertained by the shenanigans of your men as they made absolute fools of themselves in front of the Dondrians.

“You should really talk to him.” The sentiment irritates you more than it should. You know he means well, but given the circumstances, and who you were, you found the suggestion a little insensitive.

“I’ll keep that in mind, good night.” You hand him back the cup, hand ensuring that your weapon is still on your hip before moving across the crowds. You don’t dare make eye contact with anyone, afraid they’d drag you into whatever game they were playing and force you to stay longer.

But as you strut past your friends, something slowly pushes against the back of your mind, nagging you until you halt in your steps and study the forest. You stare across the groups of celebrations, turning around just in time to see Anakin running through his men. You push through the drunk masses, and only when you’re a few steps away from the royal family do you hear the high-pitched sound of a blaster going off.

Without thinking much of the consequences, you sprint towards the upper table and violently shove Rex out of the way, shutting your eyes in pain when the blaster hits your side and barely misses the Prince and his sister. The joyful laughter quickly turns into panicked cries, and you look down at the two members of the family you were meant to be watching closely, praying to the maker that neither of them are injured or else this diplomatic journey would turn into a political nightmare.

“Are you hurt?” You ask them both, sighing in relief when they pat each other down and realize that neither of them were hit.

“Stay down,” you order the two of them, standing to your full height and igniting your lightsaber, but not before glancing to the side to make sure that Rex was unharmed. You feel your heart skip a beat when you find his eyes and see the anger swimming in them.

“Don’t leave their side,” you tell Rex before taking off, already regretting the argument you will surely have with him when everything calms down. As if you needed to give him more reasons to dislike you. You will yourself to focus on finding the assassin, stopping in front of a group of clones to see which of them can follow you.

“If you haven’t been drinking, follow me. The rest of you look after these people.” Five men stand to their feet at your command, already putting their helmets on to try and see where they should head. A part of you knows that you may have already lost this hunter in the crowd but you try to find him regardless, knowing that the celebrations may come to a halt and cause even more unrest with the Dondrians if you don’t at least try to find anything about him.

You run towards the cluster of trees high on the hills, certain that it was the best vantage point where you can see everything unfolding within the crowds. But with each step you take, you feel the wound on your side burn in anger, begging you to take a moment of respite before resuming any movement.

“You’ve been hit,” you don’t mean to snap at him, but Anakin’s remark sends you in a fit of irritation and you smack his hand away when he tries to move your robe to the side to get a better look at the bleeding gash.

“No shit, genius.” His eyes narrow at your tone, but you know he isn’t taking any offense to your little outburst. You’re about to head to higher ground when you feel a hand grab at your arm and pull you back.

“Enough, you and I both know we won’t find him. Not now at least. Come on.” He motions for his men to stand down, and they all look between you and him before they head down the hill first. As much as you hate to admit it, you know Anakin’s right, and you reluctantly sheath your lightsaber again before following him towards the calming throngs of people surrounding the royal family. As you bump into the soldiers, you do your best to refrain from reacting to the searing pain beating at your side, knowing that Anakin will make sure Kix doesn’t allow you to so much as breathe the wrong way. You couldn’t afford getting his attention, not when you could feel the eyes of a certain clone staring daggers into the back of your head as you paused and stood in front of him to speak with the Prince. You see him engage in a conversation with Anakin, worried at the prospect of anyone in his family getting hurt due to his recent change in political stance.

“While I can appreciate the importance of this issue, we need to get you inside.” You turn between him and your old friend, waiting quietly until they acknowledge your suggestion before moving behind them towards the gate of the city. Making sure that each member of the inner circle is accompanied by a couple of your men, you stay back to rest your side, turning your eyes to the sky in an attempt to focus on anything but the excruciating burning beating at your skin. You’re almost distracted too when you feel a hand rest on your back while another holds your upper arm.

“You need to go to medbay.” The calm, soothing voice of none other than the man you’ve been doing your best to avoid signals a wave of heat to course across your body, and before you can try and argue with him, you feel lightheaded, the adrenaline finally leaving your body completely with nothing but a faint memory of what had happened. You brace yourself on his shoulders, shaking your head and furrowing your eyebrows at him when you look up and see the angry grimace from before returning with a vengeance.

“If it’s all the same to you Captain, I think it’s best I just go and rest. No need for medbay.” You try to let go of his shoulders but as soon as you take a step back, your body sways and nearly falls over. His arms brace against him, and had you been a little more present, maybe a little more mischievous, you would have asked him to buy you dinner first. But you weren’t too conscious of what was happening, so you accept the help quietly, not bothering to say anything even when Kix comes around and supports your weight as well.

“With all due respect sir, Rex may not outrank you, but I do…when it comes to your wellbeing at least. Come on.” You miss the way he looks at Rex, and you definitely don’t notice Rex’s clenched jaw as he reluctantly lets go and makes sure you won’t fall over. And you unfortunately don’t see the look Rex gives you, guilty that you felt the need to push him out of harm’s way and take the hit instead.

The three of you walk in silence back to the city, and when you get to base, you glance back at Rex and frown when you see how angry he is with you. Had you been more aware however, you would have realized that he was not upset with you, but at this whole situation. As soon as you enter medbay, you lay down in one of the beds, hissing in pain when your lightsaber accidentally brushes the open gash on your side.

“Let me take this,” Rex moves to your side and attempts to grab your weapon, but you flinch at the sudden movement, eyes panicked at the prospect of not having your lightsaber with you, even though you were perfectly safe here.

“You don’t have to, I-”

“General, don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” He sighs heavily, the reaction hurting you more than it should. Of course he thought you were a burden. He was probably supposed to be with Anakin but felt the need to remain by your side out of duty. You don’t mean to, but your hand falls back in defeat, eyes watering almost instantly at being such an inconvenience to him. If he notices the way you react to his words, he says nothing and approaches you slowly once more, as if he was walking towards a wounded, helpless animal. He says nothing as he unclips the lightsaber from your side and clasps it on his own belt.

“Rex, I need you to leave.” Kix interrupts as he walks towards you, pointing at the door so Rex could leave.

“Why?” You think he’s being a little defensive, but you brush the thought aside, knowing for a fact that there is no reason why the Captain of the 501st would want to stay behind just for you.

“Because it’s my job to take her armor off and treat her, not yours. Get out!” Kix is more assertive than before, and you shut your eyes to avoid looking at either of them as they continue to talk about you. Something shifts in the air but you choose to ignore it as well, barely managing to open your eyes and gaze at Rex when he whispers in return.

“I’ll be outside.” He looks at you as if the last thing he wishes to do is leave this room, and you’re not sure what prompts you to, but you nod in acknowledgement to let him know that you’re thankful for him, watching him exit the room, but not without looking back at you one last time. As the door slides shut behind him, Kix silently removes your armor and clothes, not bothering to say anything else as he begins cleansing the wound and suturing it.

You’re not sure how long you’re on that bed, but when the medic lets you know that he’s almost done, you realize that you’ve been clenching your hands the entire time. Relaxing your muscles completely, you thank him and sit up, waiting until he covers your side with a bacta patch before standing fully again.

“You know, if I have to stand around one more minute and watch the two of you act like…like fucking bantha, I might just shoot myself and be done with it.” Kix says with a smirk, not caring for your passive aggressive remark as he applies the patch and pushes a little too hard on the skin to get you to be quiet.

“You’re a medic Kix, not a therapist.”

“Yeah well, someone’s going to have to tell you both to get your heads out of your asses…respectfully sir.” Once again, you narrow your eyes at him and shake your head, not bothering to wait until he puts the armor back on before grabbing it and walking to the closest mirror to see what he’s done.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You say in passing, irritated and confused by his choice in words.

“Sure you don’t.” You’re about to respond when he opens the door to the room and calls for Rex to come back. Surprisingly, it takes a few seconds for Rex to come and stand beside you again, studying your features as you look at the covered wound and try to see which movements hurt and which don’t.

“The wound isn’t too deep but it is pretty large. It should heal in the next few hours, assuming you switch the bacta patch and put on a new one. In the meantime, I’d suggest you don’t partake in any serious, physical activity…unless of course you’re with-”

“Alright, that’s enough.” You turn around quickly and snap at him, mentally patting yourself on the back when you see his smile drop instantly at the realization that he may have gone just a little too far. You quickly glance at Rex and find him confused at your outburst, but he says nothing and instead unclips the lightsaber from his belt and returns it to you. For a brief second, your fingers pass against his softly, and you feel chills run down your spine at how calloused and warm they felt against your own.

“Thank you,” you whisper your gratitude to Kix one last time before practically sprinting out of the room, feeling the frustration rise deep within your chest when you notice Rex falling into step with you. You had hoped that he wouldn’t follow you back, mostly because you were planning on visiting the Prince to ensure that he understands not to be seen by anyone until you’ve resolved this rather problematic hiccup.

“I’m sure there is something more worth your time Captain…you can leave if you wish.” You say assertively, praying to the Force that he reads between the lines and leaves you to your devices.

“If it’s all the same to you General, I think it’s best I make sure you return to your quarters safely.” You expected his response, but hearing it irks you more than you initially thought and you speed up in an attempt to distract yourself.

“While I appreciate your concern, I am of help to no one if I return to my rooms. Where’s Anakin?”

“He is with the Prince. Sir, I strongly request for you to return to your room.” Ever the Captain, he doesn’t budge once in his stance and catches up to you, going as far as taking a few more steps until he stops ahead and forces you to slow down.

“Captain, please.”

“You'll be helpful to no one if you can’t keep up.” He crosses his arms and stares straight into your eyes, not once caring for how you could easily write him up for insubordination.

“I need to see Anakin, I think I have a plan to catch this assassin.” You take a deep breath and relay your intentions to him, preparing yourself for an onslaught of questions and push back to the plan you have in mind.

“How do you know it’s an assassin and not a bounty hunter?” You notice the way his body language shifts from defensive to a more curious, even docile manner.

“No one in their right mind would come to Dondri during the Life Day Celebrations just to kidnap a member of the royal family. Also, I’m fairly certain he was aiming straight at his head.”

“And how do you plan on catching him?” He furrows his eyebrows at you, making you wish he wasn’t standing so close to you so you’re affected by every little detail you keep observing about him. Shaking the thought aside, you take advantage of his distracted mind, walking around him and continuing towards the royal palace.

“By giving him exactly who he wants.”

“Sir, please.” He calls out to you one last time, this time with an exasperated sigh that you wish was out of care and not duty.

“Captain, your request is noted.” You turn around one last time against your better judgement, watching closely as Rex’s pout deepens before he switches his attention to the ground. You study him then, wondering why he was suddenly so intent on your well being. It’s not as if he never showed any concern before, but there was something strange now, something you chalked up to what you did earlier.

You almost tell him to accompany you to Anakin, but then remember what he might say when he finds out what you have in mind to catch this man. Footsteps echo in the hallway as you practically run to Anakin, and you’re glad when you find him standing alone outside the Prince’s quarters. He looks up when he hears the frantic stomps growing closer, his expression falling as soon as he realizes it’s you approaching him.

“Wow, you should be resting. What are you doing here?” He’s half-concerned, half-surprised, the faint lines of a smile betraying how irritated he is at seeing you.

“I think I know how to catch this guy.” You straighten up, gazing at your friend until his apprehensiveness gives way to genuine interest.

“I’m listening.” Anakin pushes away from the wall, eyes narrowing at you as he turns fully to face you.

“I highly doubt he will want to try again in such a crowded place so he will definitely wait till the Prince is by himself.” You step closer to him, anchoring your thoughts to the best of your abilities as the pain in your side begins to return once more.

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” He shakes his head strongly, frowning at whatever idea you had in store for him.

“Listen. We will give him what he wants, or at least, what he thinks he wants.” Anakin’s gaze shoots up then, and you watch the moment his confusion turns into a deep interest and desire to solve the issue.

“Elaborate.” His jaw is tight, and you brace yourself for whatever reaction he gives when you tell him about your idea.

“He knows how important his Celebration is, and he also knows that part of it involves the King-to-be going out into the lake and offering blessings to the gods on behalf of his subjects. So, we make him think the Prince is actually going out there.” Your voice is low but even, pausing in your explanation to gauge Anakin’s reaction.

“You’re suggesting a decoy?” His gaze is steady but you don’t budge, not wanting to give him any reason to think you are unready or reluctant to lead the mission.

“Yes, I am.” You nod confidently, glancing behind you and biting into your cheek when you see Rex walking toward the two of you.

“So the Prince will be safe in his quarters the whole time.”

“Yes,” you exhale through your nose, bracing yourself for the question you’re sure will be asked at any moment now.

“And who’s the lucky guy that will replace him?” He throws his hands up then, as if to say he doesn’t agree with the plan but has no choice.

“Me.” You don’t flinch as you respond immediately, shutting your eyes to calm yourself when you hear Rex’s outburst next to you.

“No.”

“Pardon me?” You turn to face him, not bothering to control your aggressive tone as you ask him to repeat himself. Rex can tell you don’t appreciate his response, passively shaking his head and glancing between you and Anakin to try and indirectly ask your friend for help.

“I…don’t think that’s wise.” He repeats again, and you miss the way Anakin hides his smile behind his hand.

“Don’t shoot me, but I think I agree with Rex on this one.” It’s Anakin’s turn to pitch in, his voice harder than before and making you wish you didn’t get easily rattled by such minimal details.

“Well, good thing I outrank the both of you.” You know better than to say something so superficial, and you shrug your shoulders when Anakin replies straight away with an annoyed lilt in his voice.

“You don’t outrank me!”

“Okay, yes but…you’re still healing. I’m all for taking risks-” You cut him off then, not appreciating the hypocrisy of his words and actions.

“But not when it’s someone else?” Standing your ground, you meet his gaze and search his face for any sign of hesitation, knowing that he has already agreed to your suggestion when he shifts his weight and pretends to still think about it.

“Why not me?” He asks quietly, the question meant less to argue and more to keep the peace.

“Because I’d rather we take this guy alive. Sorry Ani, but I don’t exactly guarantee the outcome with you.” You feel bad for critiquing his tactics but you don’t back down, wanting him to know that you prepared to see this to the end.

“Fair enough.”

“Good, you can tell the Prince our plan. Make him address the people in an hour, something along the lines of ‘he won’t be bullied out of his duty’ and then we can head down to the lake.” Stepping aside, you walk around both men while telling them what to do, wanting to deal with this hiccup as soon as possible so you can address the real reasons behind your visit to the planet.

“Where are you going?” Anakin asks, gesturing between himself and the room behind him.

“Get dressed. I need to look the part.”

Going back to your room, you do your best to think of the task at hand, but with every question you ask yourself, you find your thoughts shifting towards Rex. A part of you wishes he only objected because he doesn’t want to see you get hurt, but the more irrational side of your brain is convinced it’s only because he doesn’t trust your judgement. You’ve never given him any reason to doubt your abilities, so you aren’t sure why he still can’t accept your discernment.

As you step into the room, you strip down and walk towards your case, bringing out a new pair of robes and placing them on the bed. You make your way to the refresher and freshen up, doing your best to put the discomfort in your side out of your mind. When you hear the sound of the broadcasting, you forgo switching the bacta patch and get dressed quickly, afraid Anakin will move ahead without you. You return to the Prince’s quarters in record time, hood placed over your head to shield you from any prying eyes not meant to know it’s you. Stopping in front of Anakin, you make sure there are guards posted inside and outside the royal rooms, quickly letting him know that none of the servants know the plan to avoid anyone saying anything to the wrong person.

“You ready?” Anakin asks, leaning into your space to gauge your reaction while pretending to protect you as you walk towards the nearby lake.

“Let me get back to you on that.” You chuckle in response, pretending your attention isn’t on the annoyed Captain flanking your other side.

“Hey, it was your idea.” Anakin straightens up once more, eyes studying the slowly growing crowds seeing you to the lake

“It sure was.” Your answer is clipped, mostly because you can tell that Rex isn’t getting any calmer beside you.

“I hate this.” The three words are whispered, yet the way in which Rex says them makes you wish you could ask him here and now when he was so adamant on letting you know he doesn’t agree with your decision.

“You have something on your mind Captain?”

“Yes, loads as a matter of fact.” It’s the first time Rex answers in such an abrupt, curt manner. Before, he used to offer a silent apology if he spoke out of line, but seeing his anger sizzle deeper with each step you took towards the lake makes you all the more irritable.

“Well, don’t let me interrupt you.” You answer monotonously, not bothering to hide how vexed you feel from the constant bickering with him.

“Hey guys, as much as I appreciate your flirting, let’s focus here. You’ll be on the boat by yourself and we won’t be anywhere near until we see someone coming towards you. If things take a turn and you find yourself in a particularly awkward position, just push this button and we’ll come to you.” The two of you face Anakin, and while Rex looks away embarrassingly, you stare at your friend, silently telling him to watch himself and not test you.

“That won’t be necessary, I’m going with her on the boat.” The ease with which Rex replies grabs your attention right away, and it’s your turn to be at the receiving end of his sheepish expression. You wonder if he knows how uneasy he looks returning your gaze.

Or how unfairly handsome he is as he leaves no room for discussion.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.” He doesn’t blink once, meeting your adamance with a stubbornness you’ve never seen before.

“Captain, if he sees you coming on the boat, he will not come.” Anakin tries to alleviate the tension but neither of you back down, wanting the other to step away first.

“I’m not taking a chance with you. And…he won’t see me coming on the boat, not if I swim out to you and climb on.” The firmness with which he explains himself nearly makes you think there’s more to this offer than meets the eye, and you forgo proprietary to ask him what he means by not wanting to take a chance with you.

“Captain, you’re-”

“Why do you constantly make things difficult for me?” He cuts you off then, the swift question quiets you immediately and forces you to look ahead, away from the company surrounding you.

“I’ll take that as a yes then.” Anakin whispers and you hate how he always wants to get the final word in. You walk the rest of the way in absolute silence, your mind flickering with hope at the prospect of Rex feeling anything other than despise for you.

“We’re here.”

“Good luck.” Anakin snaps you out of your haze as he readies the boat, and you nod at him before stepping onto it. You undo the rope, and make your way to the front of the swaying sail, not bothering to turn around when you feel it moving softly through the water. You focus on the dark body of water ahead of you, looking up to the sky and marveling at the twinkling stars as they shine above you. Only when you hear faint scratching at the hull of the boat do you remember what you’re supposed to do. Waiting until the boat is angled ahead and away from the shore, you turn on the comm link and step forward to see where Rex is hanging on.

“Are we far enough from shore?” You ask Anakin, praying you receive an affirmative answer quickly so Rex can get out of the cold water.

“Yes,” Anakin gives you the go-ahead, and you pull the hood of your cloak higher before turning on the lights around the boat to offer a brief distraction.

“Permission to come on board, General?” Rex asks strenuously, and you wonder if this is his attempt at being civil.

“Granted, come up before you freeze to death.” He pulls himself up right away, and you point to the small room in the lower deck, not wanting him to be seen by anyone that may be watching you.

“Stay low.” You whisper to him, wishing you could take your cloak off and offer it to him so he can get warmer.

The slow rocking of the boat lulls you into a fake sense of peace, and you force yourself to remain passive to the presence of the man behind you. The lights flicker softly around you, and when you lean over to touch one of the ornaments hanging on the cords, a shooting pain coursing across your abdomen prevents you from moving so much as a muscle.

“How’s your side?” Rex notices you wincing and almost approaches you, but you shake your head to prevent him from coming up the deck.

“It’s fine.” You clench your fists tightly as you right yourself, not wanting to appear suspicious. It’s quiet for a few minutes before you decide to return whatever civility Rex was attempting to offer you.

“Hmm, it’s quite beautiful out here.” Your eyes are glued to the night sky, completely missing the way Rex longingly gazes at you when he agrees.

“Yes, it is.” A shiver runs down your spine at the low, whispered tone of his voice, and when you turn your attention towards him, you find him shaking from the cold air seeping through his armor.

“You’re cold.” There’s an apology at the tip of your tongue, and Rex must see how bad you feel about this because he shrugs his shoulders and tells you otherwise.

“I’ll manage.”

“You shouldn’t be here. I really don’t understand why you were adamant on coming with me.” It’s not what you want to say to Rex, far from it. But you know for a fact you can’t be straightforward and ask him why he didn’t back down and decided to join you.

“It is my job to protect you.” Again, you’re thrown off by how soft and docile he sounds, and it takes every ounce of control in your body to not turn around and stare into his eyes as you ask him the next question.

“Job? Is that the only reason why you’re here?”

“Y-yes. Why else would I turn down shore leave?” Had he not hesitated, you would have believed him and dropped the subject. But something about the way he becomes defensive makes you think there may be another reason he isn’t too keen on sharing.

“What I don’t understand is why you would turn down shore leave to serve with someone you can’t stand the sight of. That’s what I don’t understand.” You know better than to bring attention to the bantha in the room, but you figure if you addressed the animosity, he might finally tell you why he isn’t your biggest fan. The last thing you expect, though, is the defensive retaliation he exudes in response.

“Can’t stand? Who…who are you talking about?”

“Come on Captain, feigning ignorance doesn’t suit you.” You huff in frustration, not wanting to elaborate further and make this any more awkward.

“With all due respect sir, you are not making any sense.” He chuckles then, and as beautiful as the sound is, it sets your teeth on edge. How dare he see this as a laughing matter?

“It’s obvious to anyone with a pair of eyes that you find it barely tolerable to be in the same vicinity as me. So I ask again, why did you miss out on a much deserved break to be here?” Against your better judgment, you turn around and face him, not caring for anything happening outside this moment.

“What gave you the impression that I can’t stand you?” Rex stands up and takes a step up towards you, the smile on his face falling instantly when he realizes that you weren’t joking. You were being dead serious. And you definitely believed everything you just said to him.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fact that anytime we’re in the same room, you find it difficult to stay for more than a few minutes before leaving. Or…or how you constantly meet each one of my tactical suggestions with an unfavorable reaction. Or the fact that you treat me like a child when I’ve clearly proven myself capable of handling any tough situation with ease. Any of these ring a bell?” You’re breathing heavily, unable to look away from him even though you wish you could be anywhere else but in front of the man that has simultaneously inspired so many mixed emotions ever since he came into your life.

“I- I’m…” He hesitates, and you almost feel bad for throwing so much at him at such an inopportune time. When his frown deepens and his eyes shift to the ground, you shake your head and return to observing the lights all around the boats. You envy the little balls of light, wishing you were one of them as they continued to flicker and not give a single care to anything happening around them.

“I am sorry…for ever making you feel all those things when they are the farthest from the truth.” His words cut through you like a long, thin needle, and you find yourself reluctantly turning around to face him once more, wanting to make sure you weren’t imagining what he just admitted.

“I hold you in the highest regard General, and if I ever push back on your commands, it’s never out of respect, but concern. Pure concern.” He swallows nervously, waiting until he has your undivided attention before continuing to confess his own doubts.

“If anything, I feel as if you’ve been actively avoiding me this entire week. With each turn, you somehow find an excuse to leave before I can join your company.” The revelation is enough to set your heart racing, and you have to shut your eyes to focus on calming yourself as you address his impression.

“I- well I just thought that I was bothering you and I figured it wouldn’t make sense if you felt limited simply because I’m around. I wanted to give you the freedom to do whatever you desired, without me standing in the way.” It’s your turn to clear the ruminating misunderstanding, and only when Rex responds shyly do you realize that you’re the source of months and months of misjudgment.

“I see.” Rex is defeated, and you wish you hadn’t brought this up while you’re in the middle of the mission because you want nothing more than to join him down in the lower deck and tell him how sorry you are for causing him to question himself.

“It seems you have every right to think me unfit to lead after all. All these assumptions lead to months of misunderstandings, all because of me.” You break the silence, trying your best to not let either of your revelations bring tears to your eyes. You fist your hands tightly to hold yourself back from doing something that might make him uncomfortable.

“Never, I’d never think that of you.” He meets your eyes instantly, shaking his head and waiting until you accept his peace offering before moving back down to the lower deck.

“I guess it’s best if we just…start fresh.” You say with a faint smile, feeling your chest collapse slowly when Rex returns the smile and nods in agreement.

“As you wish, sir.”

The night air shifts following those four simple words, and you blink a few times at Rex before returning to your place. You’re not sure how long you’re on that boat, but when the wind picks up, you hope things don’t take a turn for the worse before you catch the assassin who, up until a few minutes ago, you were convinced would have already come to you. Rex is awfully quiet and when you glance behind you, you see him holding a small ornament in his hand, the shape of which is unclear until he looks up and notices you staring at him. He shyly shows it to you, and you smile at him when you note what it is.

“Gorgeous bird, isn’t it?”

“What is it?” He gazes at the delicate ornament, its red surface shimmering with flecks of gold and crimson under the soft glow of the night sky and the lights dusted all around the boat.

“It’s a phoenix, a legendary bird that captivates whoever comes across it in the wild with its vibrant colors and remarkable life cycle.” You watch as Rex marvels at how something so small could evoke such warmth, wondering if he knows that he inspires similar feelings in you.

“It’s particularly special to the Dondrians because it’s believed to have originated on their world. Its symbolism of renewal and immortality makes it the perfect representation of what Life Day means to them.”

“What do you mean?” Gently, he turns it in his hands, unwilling to let go of it as he hangs it back where he found it, completely enchanted by its quiet beauty and whom it reminds him of.

“Well, it lives for several hundred years until it reaches a point where it builds a nest of aromatic wood and sets itself ablaze.” You can tell your words surprise him because he looks from you to the small ornament of the bird, face falling at the thought of a bird practically ending its own life.

“It…it kills itself?”

“Yes, and no. As the flames consume it, it is reborn from its own ashes, emerging more radiant and young than before. This cycle of death and rebirth represents the very idea of Life Day…of destruction coming from new life, of the importance of transformation, resilience, and hope. The way it embraces its own death and resurrection encourages others to embrace change and look forward to new beginnings.” The way in which he seems to hold on to every single word you say lights a little blaze of hope deep in your soul, and you pray to the maker that whatever change in your relationship lasts long after tonight comes to an end. Rex nods in understanding, trailing his fingers across the glass bird before switching his attention to similar ornaments hanging all around the two of you.

“They say any representation of the phoenix is supposedly enchanted.” You don’t want the conversation to end, and your smile widens when you see how suddenly interested Rex is in the bird’s mythology.

“Enchanted?”

“Hmm. If you hold that ornament in your hand and wish for anything…anything in this universe, it will fall right into your lap soon after and mark the beginning of a new chapter.” Not even a second later, Rex is taking the phoenix in his hand once more, shutting his eyes and murmuring something to himself. You watch with fascination how utterly captivated he is by the sentiment, and you wonder what he could possibly wish for so quickly. When his eyes flutter open and he finds you already staring at him, he puts the ornament down and stands up, his facial expression turning a lot more serious than a moment ago.

“Sir, I-” “Heads up, someone’s coming.” Anakin cuts him off and you curse the timing of your guest’s arrival. You shut the comm link off completely, mouthing a quick apology to Rex as he moves out of sight while preparing his blaster. You face away from the sound of the approaching boat and pretend to flinch as soon as you hear a loud crashing sound signal the arrival of your wanted man.

“You’re dumber than they told me, more conceited too.” The accent is not lost on you, and you file that little bit of information for later. The wind howls across the water, and you begin to move but hear a warning that prevents you from facing the assassin.

“Ah ahh, turn around slowly.” You hold your hands up as you obey the command, no longer bothering to hide yourself as you fully face him. His breath, a lot calmer than now, comes in short, panicked bursts. His expression falls completely, and you can tell you were the last person he was expecting to see from the fearful air about him.

“You? Where…where is the Prince?” The smirk you could hear before no longer tugs at his lips, his tone more taunting than now that he knew his mission is not possible.

“Like you said, it would have been extremely absurd if we allowed him to come out here by himself.” His eyes widen in horror, and you tilt your head slightly, hesitating to say more when his figure trembles at the mere sight of you.

“You’re a Jedi! You’re the one who saved him.”

“Don’t try anything, you’re surrounded and it won’t be easy to escape.” You reply coolly, gaze sharp and unwavering as recognition flashes across his face.

“This doesn’t have to end badly. Tell me who hired you.” You raise your hand slightly, a subtle warning that you hope he would take to heart and not test. His shoulders sag at the dangerous lilt in your voice, his breathing growing more erratic at the thought of being your captive.

“I- I can’t.” Sweat glistens on his brow as you meet his aggression with an eerie calmness.

“We can help you, please.” Your voice is softer now, still firm but not as menacing as before. Taking a step closer to him, you try to impose some sense of tranquility, but his jaws only tighten, his gaze farting around the empty lake in an attempt to find an answer to his predicament.

“No, you can’t. No one can…if I don’t kill the Prince, he’ll kill me.” His voice cracks, and you watch as his eyes glisten with something between terror and acceptance of what will surely happen now that he failed in his mission.

“Who?” Your question is followed by a panicked raising of the blaster to your head, and before you can give him another warning glance, you hear Rex ascend behind you, blaster aimed at the man’s head and fingers ready to pull the trigger.

“Don’t even think about it.” Rex’s tone adds fuel to the fire, the tension rippling along with the waves hitting the hull of the ship.

“Stand down Captain.” You turn your gaze to Rex, not wanting him to make matters worse.

“I can’t do that sir.” Rex’s voice is tight, and he doesn’t bother meeting your eyes, knowing that if he were to look at you, the man in front of him might take the distraction as an advantage.

“He’ll kill me, he’ll kill all of us.” The words tumble out in a frenzy, making you fist your hands tightly in discomfort. You ignore Rex for the time being, slowly stepping towards the assailant to try and calm him down once more.

“Just tell me who he is and I will make sure you’re safe.” Your voice cuts through the hysteria for a second, and you think you can manage to make him put the blaster down without controlling him, but then he whisks the blaster away from you and towards Rex, the reaction instantly making you see red.

“No, you’re all dead. We’re all dead.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This conversation is between you and me, not him.” Your tone drops, no longer friendly or soothing, but searing with displeasure at the sudden change of events.

“I’m warning you, this doesn’t have to turn ugly.” You try one last time to make him put the blaster down, but sensing the shift in his demeanor, you light your lightsaber just as he shakes his head in madness and readies the blaster. There’s something strange about the way he continues to look up at the lightning shining across the sky, and you follow his line of sight to see if someone is approaching. His panicked movement increases as the crashing sound of thunder increases, and you narrow your eyes at him, unsure of why he was reacting so drastically to the weather. You find yourself lacking sympathy for him, not because of what he’s done, but because of what you see he’s about to do.

“It’s done, we’re- we’re all d-”

You don’t let him finish, sending your lightsaber straight into his chest before dragging it back to your hands. Neither you nor Rex say anything for a moment, and only when you feel the boat rock violently do you finally snap out of the momentary haze you’re in and tell Rex to hold onto something.

“Pfassk, we need to get back to shore before this storm drowns us.” You’re afraid to look at Rex, unsure of what you’d find swimming in his eyes, if he’s disappointed, shocked or simply disturbed by how easily you took the man’s life. You reach out to the lake bank, focusing on bringing the sail closer to dry land as quickly as possible out of fear of putting Rex’s life and your own in any more danger. It takes longer than you like, but as soon as you reach Anakin, you exit the boat and remove your cloak, quickly handing it over to Rex before asking the others to drag the dead body away.

“What happened?”

“He was manic…violent.” Rex answers Anakin’s question when you remain quiet, and as Anakin tries to learn anything from the soulless body, you stop pacing behind him and apply pressure to your side, the lack of adrenaline making way for a familiar, stabbing pain.

“This fucking weather happened. He- maker, he would have listened to me. He would have, but the lightning terrified him. It was almost as if he thought it was after him.”

“So you killed him?” Anakin holds his hands up in question, not understanding why you changed your mind when you were the one who told him why you had to be on that boat, and not him.

“No, I killed him because he aimed his blaster the wrong way.” Your voice is almost unrecognizable to you, and you watch as your old friend shrugs his shoulders before telling his men to take away the body.

“We need to leave, or else we’ll get caught in this storm.” You remind them one last time, waiting until they start moving before turning around and looking to gauge Rex’s reaction to this whole ordeal.

“Tell the Prince they can resume their festivities tonight if they wish. Assuming this doesn’t turn into a blizzard.” You tell Anakin, who nods in agreement and sprints ahead, not wanting to waste any more time outside now that the problem was “solved.”

“You don’t think there’ll be another?” Rex asks and you shake your head instantly, elaborating on why you think there isn’t another assassin running around.

“No, whoever is behind this wouldn’t take the chance. One wouldn’t talk, two is too high a probability.” You meet his eyes for longer than you deem appropriate, and when he looks away first, you study your surroundings before heading behind Anakin, towards the royal palace.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room, I think diplomacy can wait till tomorrow. Good night Captain.” You don’t bother turning around as you respond to him, knowing that you won’t be able to hold back from apologizing for your actions if you see an unfavorable expression aimed at you.

An oddly familiar warmth engulfs you the farther you walk away from Rex, and it’s only when you’re back in your room that you realize what that sensation is. You’re confused as to how you could possibly be receptive to Rex’s feelings, but it occurs to you that you may be feeling a fraction of his own emotions simply because he’s allowing you to. Of course it may be unintentional on his side, but be that as it may, a part of him is so in tune with you that the Force decided to connect you to each other, or at least, make you respond to him on a much deeper level than you ever thought possible.

You stand in the middle of your quarters, recalling every single word you’ve exchanged with Rex during the past rotation. As upset as you are with how certain things turned out, you come to appreciate them all, especially the fact that the two of you were sent on this mission together. You were finding the Life Day Celebrations extremely difficult to enjoy because of your relationship with the Captain, but if anything was proven in the past few hours, it’s that the time of year was truly on your side.

You make your way to the refresher and find the bacta patch Kix gave you earlier, sighing irritatingly when you realize you forgot to change it. You strip off your clothes and stand in front of the mirror, biting into your cheek as you remove the bacta patch and throw it away. You find the wound almost healed, and you thank the maker you wouldn’t have to deal with it for a longer period. Letting it breathe for a few seconds, you walk around and turn on the hot water, wanting to bathe in a nice, warm bath before whatever you will have to do tomorrow. You move back to the mirror and unsheath the replacement patch, slowly applying it on your skin, and shivering when the cold chemicals make contact with the wound and the skin surrounding it.

Unbeknownst to you, Rex has debriefed with Anakin and was already heading your way, wanting to make sure that you made it back safely and weren’t in need of anything. He hesitates for a long moment before knocking softly on your door several times, and when he doesn’t hear a response, he unlocks the door and walks in, taking in the small space before calling out for you again. He frowns at the lack of response, knowing that you were in much need of a good night rest. The room is dim, illuminated only by the light filtering through the windows behind the bed. Thinking that you didn’t make it back yet, he’s about to exit when he hears your groans echo through the refresher.

“Sir?” Rex tries, and when your whines only grow louder, he takes out his blaster and readies himself for whatever threat is in the refresher with you. The muffled sounds only grow, and he’s alarmed at the prospect of what he might find when he barges in. Taking calculated steps across the room, he finds the door to the refresher slightly ajar, and as soon as the quiet moan of discomfort reverberates in his ears, he takes two quick strides and pushes the door open, scanning the room in an attempt to find the source of your pained grunts. When he sees you standing half-naked in the middle of the refresher, with your hands massaging the skin around the wound, he lowers his blaster and shuts his eyes, cursing at his lack of sensibility.

“Ahh kriffing hells. Oh maker, I- I’m sorry General. I thought that you were harmed and- pfassk.” Rex stammers through an apology, his face growing heated at catching you in such a vulnerable state. The tub beside you is half-full, and Rex feels his armor tightening around his crotch, images of you moaning in ecstasy as the water relieved all of your pain making him wish he was anywhere else but here.

“That’s okay Rex,” you cut him off when you see his face burning with embarrassment, and you do your best to not dwell on the heat from before suddenly wrapping around you like a tight, weighted blanket. It’s endearing how shy he is being with you, and you’re about to giggle at his overreaction when you turn around and find his eyes set on you. There’s a different expression on his handsome features now, and you tilt your head to the side in confusion, unsure of why he was looking at you in such an intimate way.

“What?” You decide to ask, knowing that things couldn’t possibly get any more awkward than they already have.

“I’ve never heard you say my name before.” The comment throws you off guard, and you look around the foggy room, hoping to find a response written somewhere. You meet his gaze again, and notice his body language relax, as if the sound of his name on your lips was all he needed to hear to grow more comfortable with you.

“That can’t be true.” You know he’s not wrong, but you are also aware that you’ve called his name about a thousand times in the privacy of your room. You’ve called his name more often than you care to admit, but he had no way of knowing that, not when, up until a few hours ago, he genuinely thought you disliked him.

“Believe me, I would remember it if you did.” He chuckles at you, the sound far from humorous and fully self-deprecating. There’s nothing comforting you can say to him, and you rub your temples to alleviate the sudden throbbing ache circling around your head. When he doesn’t move, you walk across the room to shut off the running water, distracting yourself from the predicament you now found yourself in.

“Is there something you needed, Captain? I’m not exactly dressed for a debriefing but we’ll have to make do.” You stand up and motion around the room, wanting to get this over with so you can drown in self-pity when you’re left alone.

“No General, I only wanted to- well, I came here to see if…” He’s tripping over his words, and it would be endearing if it weren’t for the fact that he just indirectly admitted to you what he felt when you called his name.

“I know I’m not exactly being professional here but, since when do you get so tongue-tied around me?” You test the waters against your better judgement, wanting to see how far you can take this before one of you cracks. Rex shakes his head in defeat, and you realize that there’s no point in taking this any further, not when the man in front of you refused to cross the professional boundaries setting you apart. You couldn’t blame him.

“Okay, here’s the thing Rex. I am freezing cold, and from what I’ve heard, the water won’t stay heated for a long time, especially during this weather. So until you decide what you want to do here, I will be getting in.” You take your slippers off and take a few steps around the tub, completely missing the puddle that collected from the flowing water.

“CAReful!” Rex is behind you in the blink of an eye, arms caging you against his chest to prevent you from slipping and hurting yourself. You grab onto his arms to right yourself but the floor is too wet, and you find yourself awfully closer to him than a second ago. You meet his gaze and are suddenly mesmerized by the hazel green of his eyes, the ones you can barely see around his dilated pupils.

“Kriff, that would have been a really bad fall. Thank you.” Your attempt at a joke is met with a serious expression, and you drop the smile when Rex slowly steps away from the slippery floor to help you stand up. He lets go of you as soon as you stand up, and you find yourself a little hurt at how quickly he wants to step away from you.

“For a Jedi, your reflexes sure are slow.” The comment is far from insulting, meant to diffuse the tension rising due to the circumstances, but for some reason, your mind decides to make things worse and respond with a statement that is far from harmless.

“I guess we’re even now.” Rex’s expression falls as he continues staring at you, and he doesn’t dare say anything in return as he walks around you and makes his way out of the refresher. Something in the way he seems to be genuinely hurt by your comment makes you run after him and pull his arm to prevent him from leaving. He stops but doesn’t face you, and you suspect it may be because he is angry with how you make light of such a crucial moment.

“I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. Please don’t- don’t be mad at me. I know we barely resolved our misunderstanding but I- I just… just don’t leave.” Your voice cracks as you practically beg him to stay, and only when he takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders slightly do you finally let go of him.

“You think I’m angry with you?” He turns around slowly and frowns at you, questioning your apology in a way that makes you think you were completely in the wrong.

“Aren’t you?” You nervously play with your fingers, looking away from him when you can’t bear the scrutiny of his hurt impression any longer.

“No, maker no. I have never once, in my life, felt anything other than respect for you.” He reaches out for you, placing both of his hands on your shoulders to make sure you are listening to every word he’s saying.

“Oh,” unfortunately for Rex, you misunderstand his confession and sag your shoulders in disappointment. Of course he wouldn’t feel anything more for you. Why would he? You’ve given him no reason to feel a fraction of what you’ve felt for him for so long.

“I am not angry with you, mesh’la. I am angry at the prospect of you thinking my life is more important than yours, at you forgoing your principles just to save me.” Rex sees the way you shift uncomfortably, the weight of his words settling heavily between you. His gaze is steady, and you can’t help but return it when you see the fierce protectiveness he’s exuding, one you had not expected to encounter in such an intimate setting.

“You- you jumped in harm’s way to save me, not even thinking of your own well-being. And later…on the boat, I saw the way you changed when he aimed his blaster at me.” He clarifies further, the revelation sending goosebumps down your arms and forcing you to step closer to him. You furrow your eyebrows at the implication behind his words, placing your hands on his chest without caring for any repercussions.

“Of course I did, what else would you expect me to do?”

“Not sacrifice yourself for someone like me.” His answer comes in heated, and the level of hurt you feel rising in your throat makes you push him away from you.

“What do you mean ‘someone like you’?” You snap at him, shaking your head in disbelief at what you’re hearing from him of all people.

“I’m not as important as you are. I’m replaceable.” Rex must not expect such a reaction because he steps towards you right away, grabbing both of your wrists to speak words that he doesn’t realize hurt you more than him.

“You- you think your life isn’t worth mine? Why…why would you even say that Rex? What makes you think you can even believe something so far from the truth?” Tears well up in your eyes as you look at him, voice trembling with emotion at the thought of Rex believing something absolutely false. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to find the right words as you melt into his arms.

“Because I’m that one that should protect you. I should be the one making sure you’re safe.” He finally replies, his voice barely louder than a whisper. Again, it must not be the right thing to say because you only get more annoyed, fisting your hands and slightly pushing on his chest to keep his attention.

“I hate to break it to you but that’s a two-way road, Rex. If I had to, I would do it again.” You say matter of factly, wanting him to fully understand that you don’t see yourself as any more important than him.

“Why?” He lets go of your shoulders and slides his hands down your arms, enveloping your fists in the palms of his hands.

“Because I- I’m your…” His grip tightens around you as you struggle to tell him what you feel for him. You avoid his eyes but he tugs you into his chest and makes sure you’re looking at him before he interrupts you.

“What? You’re my General? You want me to believe you’re willing to die for me, or even change your own rules because you’re my superior?”

“N-no…it’s not just that.” You shake your head, knowing that you should tell him the truth regardless of how difficult it can be for you.

“Then tell me.” He begs softly, leaning into you until he touches his forehead with your own. The warmth of his skin sets you on fire, making you wish you could just confess to him and deal with the consequences later.

“Tell me why you’d risk your life for mine.” Rex’s eyes soften as he shuts them completely, and if you weren’t so held up on whether his feelings were mutual or not, you would have understood what he was trying to tell you through the intimate gesture.

“I can’t.”

“Tell me cyar’ika.”

“Rex, I-”

“Tell me me’suum’ika…please.” He cuts you off then, his pleading storming your heart with waves of emotions so overwhelming that you have no choice but to give him what he wants.

“Because if anything were to happen to you, my life will be over.” You admit, voice shaking with fear and relief at finally letting go of the secret you’ve held onto for months.

“Mesh’la,” the word is whispered with a warmth and gentleness that shake you to your core, and you finally open your eyes to look at him, finding nothing but adoration and tenderness staring right back at you.

“Rex.”

“I can’t protect you tonight.” His gaze is…it’s more intense than you’ve ever seen, but it’s unwavering as it descends to your lips and refuses to attend to anything else.

“Hmm?” You’re confused by his choice in words, caught even more off guard by the weight of them as you try to make sense of what he wants to tell you.

“I said…I can’t protect you tonight.” His voice is low, almost strained, sending you spiraling down into an abyss of an unquenchable fire.

“W-why?” Your throat tightens, brows furrowing at the way Rex struggles with what to say in response.

“Because every second I spend near you, not being able to touch you, or kiss you, or whisper how kriffing badly I have it for you is torture. It’s absolute torture. And now that I am here, with you looking so lovely, so- so…irresistible, telling me what I am to you, I can’t hold back any longer.” He exhales sharply, hands moving from your hands to your neck for a brief moment before you feel them wrap around you and pull you flush against his chest.

“Then don’t.” The air between you cackles with tension, and Rex’s breath hitches at the raw, pleading tone you grace him with.

“If you let me taste your lips, know that I will never let you go.” He’s gathering the strength to speak, and when his eyes burn with an intensity that steals your breath away, it occurs to you that he’s barely holding himself back from you.

“Rex?” He looks at you then, committing every curve of your face to memory as you call for him again, his heart stuttering at the raw vulnerability mirrored in your own pupils.

“Please kiss me.” His answer doesn’t come in words, but in the way he shuts his eyes as he closes the distance between the two of you. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that feels like a breaking storm—wild, unrelenting, and long overdue. You had expected him to be timid, gentle even, but the untamed way in which he instantly swallows your moans makes your knees weak, and you have to wrap your arms around his neck to prevent yourself from falling to the ground.

You’re not sure who is more desperate, you or Rex, but as the kiss becomes more heated, you feel as if your lungs will collapse from the sheer need and surrender moving between the two of you. And as his hand cups the side of your face, you tremble at the sensation of his thumb as it traces your jaw until he tilts your head to the side.

“Ohh g-gods,” you break the kiss for a fraction of a second, but Rex is unrelenting, claiming your mouth fully and moving his lips over yours until every inch of your skin comes alive with fire. You’re urgent in your touches as well, afraid that he will let go any moment and you realize this is all just a dream. But the more he consumes your skin, the quicker your heartbeat thunders against your chest and you press yourself closer to him in an attempt to ground yourself.

When he does finally let go, your breath comes in short, shaky gasps, but there’s no time to collect yourself. His lips descend down your neck, and you throw your head back, pleasure coursing through your veins so quickly that you have to muffle your mouth to hold back from screaming his name. The small gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Rex and he pulls back far enough to catch your attention, waiting until you’re blinking confusingly at him before he returns to your neck.

“No, you don’t hide your noises from me. You have no idea how many nights I spent imagining you in my arms…moaning for me, begging me to touch you and pull every ounce of pleasure from your body.” He leaves a searing trail of fire with each wet kiss, his teeth grazing your sensitive skin and biting down harshly when you moan in return.

“But what if Anakin-” He growls at the mention of his friend’s name, his chest tightening at the sound of another man’s name on your lips. His hand trails down your neck to your waist, squeezing you tightly as he slides his tongue down your sternum and coaxes more sounds from you the lower he goes. Rex looks up briefly, smirking with pride when he sees how disoriented you’ve become from such simple touches.

“I don’t care, let him hear. Let them all hear, I want everyone on this planet to know who’s making you feel good. Do you understand me…General?” His confession burns through you, and he zeroes in on the pulse thundering against your neck, biting down harshly as his heart tingles with each moan you sing to him. The way he says your title, so possessive and crazes, sends a fresh wave of desire through you, and you have to fight not to crumble entirely beneath his touches.

“F-fuck, yes…yes Captain. I- whatever you want.” You gasp, voice breaking as you feel yourself sinking against him. You grip at his shoulders for some semblance of stability, the cool edge of his armor digging into your arms and reminding you how naked you are.

“Come here,” his tone is commanding, full of raw desire, and you shiver at the power behind it, swearing beneath your breath when he leans down and slides his hands firmly around your lower back.

“But the water-” You giggle at how quickly he moves from the refresher to the bedroom, and you feel yourself growing wet at how easily he picks you up.

“You don’t need the water to keep you warm.” Rex shakes his head, leaning down and giving you a quick peck on the lips before settling you down on your sheets.

“No?” You tease, lower lip trapped between your teeth as you try to hold back from snickering at what he’s making you feel.

“No baby, that’s what I’m here for.” he murmurs, leaning in close until he cages you between his arms. The bed dips beneath him, and you feel your heart racing at finally having your dreams come true. His eyes barely have any color left in them, and you squeeze your thighs together, excited at being the reason behind such a visceral reaction.

“And exactly how will you w-warm me up?” You trail your hand down up his neck, tracing his cheeks softly and shivering when you feel the rough stubble of his jaw kiss your palms.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Rex chuckles, the sound vibrating through the quiet air of the room and making you even more nervous. He draws deliberate circles against your breasts, watching with bated breath as your eyes shut instantly.

“Yes…oh kriff, please Rex. Tell me…tell me.” The need you display to him nearly makes him choke. Never in his life did he think he’d have such an effect on you, but he doesn’t question it, instead giving you more so he can hear what he does to you.

“Let’s see,” Rex leans closer, lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he speaks with a sinful whisper, “I’ll start off by kissing down your body.”

“Hmm,” the image alone leaves you breathless, and you tilt your head to the side to give him better access to your neck, not caring for how loud you’re getting as your moans turn into long sighs.

“And while you moan at feeling my hands trace your soft skin, I’ll…pull away.” His words trail off, and he suddenly pulls back completely, creating a rift between you that has you sitting up quickly and grabbing his kama to prevent him from getting off the bed.

“N-no don’t,” you plead desperately, refusing to let go of him as he returns to your side and kisses your forehead.

“Shhh, don’t worry mesh’la. I’m not going anywhere.” He catches your wrists, pressing them against his chest to still you before slowly standing up again. He doesn’t break your gaze, and he waits until you relax to begin taking off his armor. You swallow the lump in your throat when you finally register what he just called you, and your breathe trembles as you nod in agreement,

“But for me to show you how much I crave you, I need to remove all of this.” The promise in his voice makes you wish he could put you out of your misery and take you then and there. But you know better than to distract him.

“Rex,” you whine his name like a prayer, unable to hide how much you want him.

“I know sweetheart, I know. But it’s all part of the plan, how else will I keep you running…hot for me.”

“Force help me,” your head falls back as a groan slips past your lips, and you don’t notice where your hand descends until you feel Rex slipping his fingers around your wrist and shoving your arm away from your heated core.

“You can call out all you want, little Jedi, but the only one here is me…so you better put my name to good use.” Rex leans in close again, hovering just above your body as he taunts you with promises. His voice is a delicious growl, one that has you shaking with anticipation and pulling another moan from your throat.

“Rex…”

“Better,” the satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable, and he brushes his lips against yours in a featherlight kiss that leaves you chasing after him when he pulls away to strip.

“Please Rex, I need you.” You beg sweetly, the words spilling out before you can stop them. You should be embarrassed by how wanton you sound, but you find that you couldn’t care any less, the need to have Rex settle between your thighs outgrowing any shame you have.

“I thought you needed to hear what I want to do to you?” His expression is dark and unreadable as he places his armor on the floor. He stands in nothing but the black body glove he wears beneath his armor, and you’re overwhelmed by how much you can see of him that you shut your eyes and throw your head back. Rex uses the momentary distraction to his advantage, sliding his eyes down your body to sketch a mental image of you in case he never gets to do this again. When he’s had his fair share of you, he removes the rest of his clothes until he’s not wearing anything.

“Look at me cyar’ika,” he commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. When you obey and open your eyes, the air leaves your lungs dramatically, your mind unable to accept the fact that he’s more naked than you are, that you’re finally, finally, seeing all of him.

“You- you’re torturing me.” You’re shaking with lust, praying to the Force that Rex decides to lose control and take what he wants.

“Is that right?” His lips curl into a knowing smirk, the ghost of a laugh escaping him and making you flush embarrassingly as he moves on top of you. “Oh…maker,” there is no hesitation in his movements, just a careful balance of control and desperate need. Rex holds you tightly in his arms and kisses you until neither of you can breathe. You think he might break you and for a brief moment, you want him to, if only so he could know how much you belong to him. You arch your back into him, trying to adjust to the overwhelming sensation of having his skin slide against yours.

“Am I pleasing to you?” Rex lets go and wraps his hand around your neck, not firmly, but just to have you look at him. The muscles of his jaw flexes as he watches you lose control, his voice reverent as he practically begs for you to answer him.

“You have no idea,” your fingers curl into his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you try to somehow bring him even closer to you.

“I think I have some id-” he smiles faintly, dipping down to kiss along your collarbone before moving further down your body. His words are cut off by a groan when he feels you scratch his head. He can feel every inch of you growing hotter beneath his touch, and he doesn’t hold back any longer, not caring for how aggressive he’s being as he slips two fingers beneath your panties and tugs violently until they rip in his hands. You squeal suddenly, partly shocked by the reaction, but mostly turned on by how much he craves you. Before you can even register what he’s doing, Rex is shoving your thighs apart and kissing your inner thighs, the scent of your cunt hitting his nostrils and making him growl, the sound rumbling from his chest and setting you on fire.

“Fuck mesh’la, you say I’m torturing you but the taste of you makes me…it- hmmm, kriff.” The gutteral sound sends heat pooling in your core, and you find yourself clinging to him even harder as you feel this lips ghost against the outer lips of your pussy.

“Rex,” you whimper, his name slipping from your lips as though it was the only word you knew.

“I know I begged you to call my name, but…if you keep moaning it so shamelessly, this night will come to an end a lot quicker.” Rex stills suddenly, looking up at you with wild eyes, his control hanging by an extremely thin thread.

“I- I don’t care Rex, I want you…I just want you, please.” You plead over and over again, trying your best to pull him up so he can forgo whatever he had in mind for you and just fuck you then and there.

“But I need to get you- oh, Force help me.” He moves up your body, pressing his forehead against yours and tripping over his words when he feels you wrap your hands around his hard cock.

“I’m already so wet for you baby, please…take me.” You whisper, desperation dripping from every word you pray to him. He’s heavy in the palm of your hand, hot and hard to the touch, and you wonder if this is how it will always be with him. You pray it is.

Maker, please.

“You should know, I need you so desperately that I- I may not be able to hold back.” His breathing grows ragged, the restraint unraveling rapidly the more you slide and squeeze his dick. He shuts his eyes and fists the sheets beneath you, and you can’t help but lean forward and kiss his jaw softly, licking down his throat and biting into the skin between his neck and his shoulder when he sinks against you.

Smiling at how easily you can bring his guards down, you pull him closer until your lips brush his ear, whispering the one sentiment you’ve thought of ever since you met him.

“Rex, I want you to fuck me like you hate me.”

“Oh, me’suum’ika, I don’t want to do that.” His head snaps up, eyes narrowing as he stares down at you with a tenderness that melts you. Rex presses his nose to your temple, sighing your name over and over again until you let go of him and bring him down for a kiss. He pushes you harder into the bed, slipping his hand behind your back to undo your chest band before throwing it behind him. You break the kiss to look at him, and Rex is sure he’s never seen a more beautiful sight in his entire life.

“I want to fuck you like I can’t breathe without you. I want to fuck you like I can’t get the thought of you out of my head…I want to fuck you like you’re mine, and I’m yours.”

Your heart swells at the raw, needy emotion in his words, and your hands slips into his hair, scratching it softly and smiling with tears in your eyes when he leans into the touch and groans in return.

“I am, I’ve been yours Rex. Only yours.”

“Shit, you’re going to be the death of me baby.” Rex exhales shakily, attacking your chest with more kisses and waiting until he hears you call for him again before taking a nipple in between his teeth. You arch your back against him, opening your thighs so he can settle better against you before crossing your legs behind his back. As soon as you feel his cock tease at your entrance, a wave of shameless desire seeps through your body and you feel your cunt throb in pain at having him so close.

“I- ohhh gods, I can’t wait any longer Rex.” You squirm beneath him, the action sliding his cock against you and making him bite your sensitive bud in return. “But…you deserve to be loved cyare. Slowly, deeply, passionately.” He wants nothing more than to push his cock into your pussy, but he waits, wanting to make sure that you’re ready for him so he doesn’t hurt you.

“We can d-do that later, however long you want…whenever you like. But I need to feel you inside me, now.” You shake your head, voice desperate and lust-filled. He studies you for a brief moment, and when he finds nothing but a needy truth swimming in your eyes, he pushes away and leans back to get a better look at you. His eyes zero in on your cunt, and his cock twitches at finally having you naked and willing beneath him.

“Spread your legs wide for me, and if it’s too much…if I’m too much, tell me.” Rex swallows hard, his eyes softening before darkening once more. You nod quickly, watching him as he takes hold of his cock and slides it across your cunt to spread your juices on him. The gesture is so filthy, and if it were any other man, you would have found it off-putting. But this was Rex, and you had only imagined him fucking you about a thousand times.

“R-rex,” you gasp as he slowly pushes into you, the sensation both overwhelming and mind-bending. Rex can’t take his eyes off of where you’re connected, and his breathing picks up when he begins to feel you clench around him, his cock sliding with ease from how wet you are. He can’t believe that he barely touched you and you were so ready for him, but he pushes the thought aside, wanting to relish every second he’s allowed to be inside you.

“Ah f-fuck, you’re…you’re so warm, so kriffing warm and tight.” He curses softly, his head falling back briefly before his eyes return to your cunt once more.

“I want to feel all of you Rex,” you run your hands over his arms, feeling the tense muscles shift with every movement. You silently wish that he falls against you so you can feel his body atop yours, and it must be evident in the way your eyes trail up and down his body because he slowly pushes himself on top of you, his cock sinking deeper into you as he shifts closer.

“Sweet girl, my beautiful jetii’ika.” Rex looks down at you, his eyes filled with awe and reverence, and something that should terrify you but instead makes you feel warm and cherished.

“You’re s-so deep inside me Rex, I feel…full.” Your voice hitches as he continues to push his dick inside you until he’s fully seated deep in your cunt. You bite into your fingers but Rex shakes his head, reminding you of his warning from earlier.

“Remember, your sounds are mine tonight. I want to hear everything that I do to you.” He grits his teeth, hands digging into your hips as he forces you to let go of your fingers and call his name.

“I love being this close to you... it’s perfect.” You confess, barely managing to string together a coherent thought as you feel him throbbing inside you.

“God, you feel so tight around me…” He wants to pull back and thrust inside you, but he holds back out of fear of hurting you. It’s only when he feels you wrap your legs around him and force him to move that he understands what you want from him. He pulls out until the crown of his cock is seated perfectly in between your pussy lips, and as soon as you moan for him, he thrusts back inside, the sensation sending his mind in a frenzy and nearly making him fuck you into oblivion. Rex stops for a moment, wanting to keep himself in check so he doesn’t terrify you by how much he craves you.

“Mmm, and you feel so big, so fucking hard and big. Move, Rex…please.” You throw your head to the side, biting into his wrist and whining in ecstasy when he obeys you and slowly snaps his hips against you.

“You’re so wet for me already and I haven’t even fucked you yet.” He mutters beneath his breath, licking and sucking on your neck as he continues to shove his cock inside you, suddenly feeling dizzy at how perfect you feel around him. What he doesn’t expect is for you to chuckle in response and meet his gaze in an intense gaze, parting your lips and answering him with another, lust-filled confession.

“That’s because I- hmmm, I’ve imagined you fucking me every night since we met, and- and now that I’m here, in your arms-” You gasp at a particularly hard thrust, digging your nails into Rex’s back and smiling when you see his features turn into a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Tell me baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire as he continues to fuck you passionately.

“Nothing compares to h-how you fill me up, Rex.” You confess, shaking at how perfectly Rex feels inside of you, cock hard and hot as it slides against your tight walls.

“You have no idea mesh’la,” you can tell his control is slipping further, and you wonder what it would take for him to lose all control and take you as you desire.

“I can- can feel how much you want this.” He leans down and swallows your moans, slipping his tongue inside of you and claiming your mouth while his cock claims your cunt.

“Yes... don’t stop. Go deeper, just like that.” You wrap your arms around him, breathing heavily against his ears as you feel him push into you with a pace that’s nearly blinding.

“You’re taking me so well, baby. This cunt was made for me, perfect fucking pussy. I can spend hours between your legs.” Rex’s voice comes out heavy, and he reaches down to place his arm around one of your thighs so he can push it higher and come closer against you.

“Please, harder…fuck me harder Captain.” You cry out, overwhelmed by the sensations Rex continues to rip from your body.

“Whatever you want to make you lose control, General.” Rex groans in return, his pace brutal and unrelenting as he feels his stomach begin to tighten. The sound of skin meeting skin echoes through the room, a frenzied beat that matches the pounding in his heart, he suspects, yours as well. He pulls back just enough to look at you, and when he finds you biting your lower lip to contain yourself, he slams harder into you until he has your attention.

“Look at me while I’m inside you... let me see how much you love this.” He demands assertively, eyes searching your own he feels sweat drip from his brow. There is a thick haze of lust clouding the room, and before you can even answer him, he thrusts harder, deeper, inside you, forcing your body to react in ways he only dreamt of. “Rex…I- I’m, I’m yours... all yours.” You acknowledge him without even thinking, the need dripping from your words matching the same one you can see storming in his eyes.

“You have all of me cyare, my heart, my soul…my everything.” Your confession drives him mad, and the look of pure ecstasy etching on your features sends him reeling, his body trembling as you cling on to him while he pushes you closer to the edge. You sob with pleasure as his movements pick up, his words igniting something primal inside of you.

“That’s it, baby. I can feel you getting closer. Don’t hold back—let go for me. Come for me. I want to feel you squeeze me..fall apart for me.” The possessiveness radiating off of him in waves should terrify you, but instead, you tighten your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer to you so you can feel every inch of him as he coats your walls with his seed. The tension in your body is palpable, every nerve lit up like a wildfire as you approach that inevitable release. Rex must feel it too because he sinks into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of your sweat and something sweet that he might never forget.

“I’m so close... oh fuck, I’m going to come!” You cry against him, voice breaking as your body teeters on the brink of bliss.

“Fuck- I…I can’t. I need to-” His rhythm begins to stutter, his breathing becoming heavier and more erratic as he fights to hold on until he feels you come on his cock. Rex’s grip on you tightens, his fingertips pressing into your skin as if he’s trying to anchor himself to reality, to the gift the universe has handed him after so long.

“Don’t hold back, Rex. I want you to come for me, come inside me. I want to feel you…want to take you so deep, fill me up. Please…p-please Rex,” you plead, clawing at his back as you show him that you need him just as desperately. Hearing you beg for him to fill you with his cum shatters the last of his resolve, his pace faltering as he buries himself inside you to the hilt. A guttural groan tears from his throat as he finally lets go, the pleasure crashing over him overtaking him just as it engulfs your body. He feels you tighten around him, your body convulsing so violently that he can’t figure out whether it’s you who’s crying in pleasure or him.

You’re completely spent, your pussy throbbing harshly as you feel Rex shoot long, hot spurts of his seed deep inside you. It shouldn’t please you so much, but knowing that you have him reach places inside you that no one else will make the pleasure all the more intense, and you twist your head until you can kiss along his neck, silently letting him know that you will never belong to anyone else but him.

He collapses over you then, supporting himself on his forearms so he doesn’t suffocate you. His head is still buried in your neck as you both gasp for air, body trembling slightly as he presses soft kisses to your skin in return. His lips linger over your pulse point where he can feel your heartbeat racing as quickly as his own. Rex lifts his head until he meets your eyes, his own brimming with affection as he smiles at you and nudges your nose with his.

“Baby, you’re everything to me.”

“Rex, I…I think I-” you start, voice quiet and uncertain, afraid that once you tell him what you feel, you will lose it all…lose him.

“I know. Cyare, I know.” He murmurs gently, his hand cradling your face as he leans down and kissing you slowly until you feel nothing but warmth and understanding.

And in that moment, you have no doubt that something deeper than words binds the two of you, something that no one will ever be able to take away from you.

Against his wishes, Rex pulls out of you with a groan, biting into his lower lip when he hears you whine with contention. You don’t let him go too far, sliding against his side and nuzzling into his chest as he pulls the covers above the two of you.

A comfortable silence fills the air and after a while, you look up to find Rex meditating deeply, his attention focused on the ceiling high above you.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, fingers moving up and down his chest in a soothing way.

“I’m thinking of what will happen tomorrow now that you won’t be keeping your distance anymore.” He means it as a joke, but when he looks down and sees your hurt expression, he drops the smile and leans over to kiss you, letting you know that he meant no harm by the comment and was just teasing you.

“Rex, I’ll do whatever you want to do going forward. If you want me to act as if nothing has changed, I’ll do that. And if you want to tell your brothers, it would make me feel so happy…and- and if you want me to leave the Order, give up everything…I will gladly do so without a second thought.” Rex’s expression shifts, his brow furrowed beneath the shadow of his close-cropped hair. He looks at you like he’s trying to make sense of your words, trying to fit them into the reality he had come to know in the past rotation.

“You- you would leave the Jedi for me?” His voice is rough with disbelief, and for a moment, he is genuinely convinced he has misheard you. The idea that someone like you— strong, steadfast, bound by your sworn duty to the Jedi and the Republic—would ever consider leaving all of it…for him…maker, it seemed impossible. It had to be.

“I would do anything for you just to have you keep looking at me the way you are now.” You cut through his disbelief with the utmost sincerity, gaze never once wavering as you do your best to make him understand what he means to you. The silence that follows hangs heavy in the air, and Rex swallows hard as searches for the right words, for anything that could match the depth of what you just offered him. He reaches out, trailing his fingers over your cheeks as he leans down to meet your lips in a chaste kiss. The touch of his lips is reverent, as if he wants to assure himself that you are real, that you are in his arms, that you are willingly giving yourself to him without a second thought.

When he finally pulls away and sees tears pricking against your eyes, he smiles at you and nods in understanding.

“How about we go day by day, and when this war is over, we can reassess.” He finally says, his voice less anxious than before. He lays back down and pulls you into his arms, hands going to your waist to pull you flush against him. You cry out in pain and push yourself away from him, the reaction catching Rex by surprise and making him sit up to see what he’s done When he sees you grabbing at your wound and hissing in discomfort, dread settles in his chest as he realizes he forgot the wound and handled you a lot more aggressively that he should have.

“Kriff, your side…I- I completely forgot. Mesh’la, are you-” He leans over to assess the bacta patch, wanting to see the damage he’s done and already thinking of what to tell Kix when he asks him to come and inspect the wound. His panic rises as you push his hand away and look down to find the patch still in place, and only when you’re sure no blood has seeped through do you grab Rex’s hand and settle it against the wound.

“Rex, relax. I- to be honest with you, I’m not sure whether or not I felt any pain. I was so far gone in our…activities, that I didn’t really focus on anything else.” His eyes are less anxious as you allow him to massage the skin around the wound, and when he sees there are no lies in your words, he nods and studies the irritated skin one last time before settling back down, bringing you into his chest gently.

He smiles when he feels you kiss just above his heart, giggling softly when you pinch his side and tease him for being so cuddly.

“Can I ask you something?” It’s his turn to interrupt the silence filling the room, and tilt your head up to nod at him.

“Anything!” His lips twitch into the faintest of smiles at the earnestness in your voice, his heart skipping a beat at the prospect of giving him the answer he’s been seeking for months on end.

“At what point did your feelings switch from wanting to be with me physically to…to whatever they are now?” Rex hesitates, choosing his words carefully and refusing to look anywhere else out of fear of missing a change in your facial expressions. When your brow lifts and your hand returns to his stomach, you can’t help but smile at him and shift your gaze to a fixed point somewhere on the skin beneath your palm.

“You mean when did I know that I’m yours?” His face flushes with embarrassment, but he nods instantly, not wanting to turn this moment awkward by his boyish reaction to your rather honest sentiment.

“I don’t think I can pinpoint a day or an hour, it all happened so suddenly and I didn’t realize how deep my feelings ran for you until I was so far gone in them.” You exhale deeply, turning a little contemplative as you admit to him everything you’ve felt for the past year or so.

“If I were to pick a reason though, it would have to be the way you carry yourself with your brothers, with Anakin even.” He looks down at you then, his gaze unwavering as he feels his soul light with a fire that he’s sure no one will ever put out now that you’ve kindled it.

“Seeing you give up so much to ensure your brothers live for another day stirred something inside me. And knowing that you’d follow Anakin into a battlefield without a second thought is…it’s- maker Rex, you’re amazing. You’re the best man I’ve ever met.” Your voice cracks slightly with emotion, a few tears rolling down your cheeks as you let him know that you will never care for anyone more than you care for him. Rex blinks down at you, stunned into silence at the raw honesty behind your words.

“The loyalty, the courage—it speaks volumes.” His chest tightens as you speak those words, and he can’t help but turn to face you fully so he can focus on nothing else but the way you fit perfectly in his arms.

“Come here, me’suum’ika.” He wraps his arms around you and molds you into his chest, stealing the breath from your lungs with a kiss that you’re sure would rival all the others he’s gifted you with so far. You let him take whatever he wants from you, sliding your arm around his back to feel every inch of him as he makes you forget the universe outside of your room.

“What does that word mean?” You smile at him when he finally breaks the kiss and trails his lips across your cheeks and down your neck.

“It means ‘little moon.’” Rex murmurs gently, as if he was sharing a secret meant only for your ears. Your heart swells at the tender nickname, and you press yourself closer to him, wanting to stay in his embrace for as long as you’re allowed. You breathe his presence to anchor yourself to him, refusing to acknowledge the chaos of the war raging outside your existence, here in this moment.

“Stay with me tonight,” you whisper pleadingly, voice barely audible. “Please.”

Rex’s hands tighten around you, and he brushes his thumb over your skin as he pulls you back to meet your gaze.

“I wouldn’t dream of being anywhere else, cyar’ika.”

The word sends a shiver down your spine, and you lose yourself in his arms, knowing that nothing will ever compare to what you now share with him.

And as you slowly succumb to sleep, Rex silently thanks the mythical bird for giving him what he’s wished for. The war may not be over, but it could wait. The galaxy, with all its heartbreak and evil, can be someone else’s concern. Tonight, Rex had you, and that was more than enough.

You were all he ever desired.

And he finally had you.

#LDE24 #cloneficgiftexchange #captain rex x reader #captain rex/reader #rex x reader #rex/reader #star wars fanfiction #writing challenge #clone fanfiction #clone x reader #the clone wars #the clone wars fanfiction #jedi reader

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genshingorlsrevengeance · 7 months ago

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GRAHHHHH I DESIRE CUDDLING & READING A BOOK WITH SHENHE, CLORINDE, DEHYA, AYAKA, XINYAN, FURINA, AND NOELLE

(Genshin Impact) Cuddling with Shenhe, Clorinde, Dehya, Ayaka, Xinyan, Furina, and Noelle

Whenever Shenhe cuddles with her S/O, she's generally meditating or focusing on how nice it feels to be so close to them.

But when S/O brings up the idea of reading together, she has no objections.

Shenhe hugs them from behind as they lay in bed, quietly reading along S/O's book as they snuggle closer to her and laying into her chest.

Truth be told it was a little awkward given the position, but after a while neither of them really cared. Shenhe less so than S/O.

(Shenhe) "...S/O, what are we reading?"

(S/O) "An adventure book about a knight, would you like for me to read it aloud for you?"

(Shenhe) "I would."

Shenhe just listens intently to S/O, all the while her hold on them not budging an inch as she relaxed more of her head into them.

Clorinde joins S/O in the bed, reading a book of her own as she sits next to them.

It's a comfortable silence, something that she greatly appreciates after the demands of her duties day to day.

Although both her hands remain on the pages, Clorinde still sits close to them, enjoying just having S/O nearby in her presence.

She won't say much unless S/O chimes in or asks where she is in her book.

Every now and then, she can't help her gaze shifting over to S/O, a small smile on the corner of her lips growing as she sees their cute focused expression.

Though she will get semi-flustered if S/O catches her looking.

(S/O) "Am I more interesting than your book right now?"

(Clorinde) "Hm, I would think so."

Both of them chuckle before adjusting themselves, with Clorinde sitting closer.

Dehya doesn't normally read, not out of lack of interest or that she couldn't, moreso that she never really had the time.

Either taking care of her equipment, talking to clients or her fellow mercs, or a myriad of other things.

But ever since meeting S/O, she began to take things a little slower, enjoying the finer things in life.

Inside her tent, S/O and Dehya laid together on a big enough sleeping bag, a lantern next to S/O dimly lighting the space so they can read.

(Dehya) "Can you even read in here?"

(S/O) "Hm, I have to squint a little but it's not the worst thing in the world. Want me to read out loud for you?"

She chuckled, rolling over onto her stomach and putting her head next to S/O's.

(Dehya) "Depends on how boring it is."

Truth be told, the book itself was never interesting to Dehya, it was a nice excuse to listen to S/O.

Ayaka's heart is beating a million times a minute in such an intimate space with S/O, but reading helps ease her giddiness (Slightly).

Ayaka doesn't always have time to read, but she greatly enjoys reading something more lighthearted and fantastical to escape her duties during the day.

And she's always interested in what her S/O is reading, doubly so if it's one of the genres mentioned above.

(Ayaka) "Dear, what is that title?"

(S/O) "That time I got reincarnated into a katana?"

(Ayaka) "...I-Interesting..."

She was too focused on trying to think of how that would even work to realize that she was leaning completely into S/O, her head resting on their chest.

The moment she did realize she'd shoot straight back upright, blushing and apologizing profusely.

Xinyan doesn't read since she's usually focusing on her music, unless a story particularly inspires her or if it came as a recommendation.

But she never read a book while so close to someone, let alone shared a bed with a lover.

(Xinyan) "Hm..."

(S/O) "Xinyan? What's up?"

(Xinyan) "Aw, it ain't nothin', just...Little hard to focus on the book."

(S/O) "Is it?"

Xinyan's eyes stare at the sheets instead of anywhere near S/O, finger rhythmically tapping on the cover of her book.

(Xinyan) "...Gah, I should just suck it up and keep readin'! I dunno why I'm gettin' all antsy over something like this!"

(S/O) "Heh, want me to read for you?"

(Xinyan) "D-Don't go teasing me, now!

Furina absolutely adores reading, excited to share the stories she's experienced with S/O or anyone else who would listen!

...As for reading so close to her S/O on the other hand, she doesn't hate it but at first it made it nearly impossible to focus.

Feeling the warmth of her lover to her side in a dimly lit room made her more sleepy than anything, always drifting asleep onto S/O's shoulder.

Which sometimes led to teasing, which after the first time she vehemently refused to sleep when they read together.

Only to miserably fail and accept her fate a few sessions later.

(S/O) "...Tired already?"

Furina just hummed as S/O bookmarked the page Furina was on, gently plucking the book from her hand and setting it on the table counter.

After doing the same with theirs, S/O adjusted for Furina to snuggle into their arm, latching onto them like a stuffed animal.

(Furina) "The book I'm reading is..." yawn "...Terribly dull."

(S/O) "Want to swap next time? Maybe I can fall asleep on you instead.~"

Noelle is always studying for her knight exams, even when she's about to sleep!

So it becomes all the more efficient (and sweet) to read with S/O, her focused expression present even when in casual clothing.

Leaving S/O with a gentle smile as they watched her.

Sometimes, S/O would test her knowledge for the written portion by taking the book and quizzing her.

(Noelle) "So the proper protocol for this situation is to...Ah, take the individual in for questioning!"

(S/O) "Correct! Though, I got to wonder, how many times has the Knights gotten calls about someone stuffing forty live chickens into their bag for it to be a segment here?"

(Noelle) "More than you think, I've seen it happen twice!"

(S/O) "Since when?!"

Both are too distracted to realize how close Noelle is to S/O, sometimes even unconsciously wrapping her arms around their waist.

Though they always figured it out when she threatened to snap them in half with her strength just squeezing S/O affectionately.

#genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #shenhe x reader #clorinde x reader #dehya x reader #ayaka kamisato x reader #xinyan x reader #furina x reader #noelle genshin impact #shenhe genshin impact #clorinde genshin impact #ayaka kamisato #xinyan #furina genshin impact #noelle genshin impact x reader #dehya genshin

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saphronethaleph · 6 months ago

Text

State's Evidence

“So,” Qui-Gon Jinn said, with a disarming smile. “Viceroy. I’d ask you to sit, but it’s your table.”

“Thank you,” Nute Gunray said, somewhat nervously. “I… yes.”

“Is something wrong?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No,” Nute replied, quickly. “I wanted to… yes.”

He adjusted his clothes, needlessly.

“Now, Viceroy,” Qui-Gon went on. “If you’d like to state your opening position on the negotiations?”

“We object in the strongest possible terms to proposition 31-814D,” Nute said, seeming to recover his aplomb slightly. “The Free Trade Zones should not be liable to taxation – that is why they are called Free Trade Zones.”

“That’s not actually the reason,” Obi-Wan supplied. “The ‘free’ term refers to the fact that there are no differential tariffs applied. A five percent tax on all profits garnered within a Free Trade Zone, for example, would not violate the principle of the Free Trade Zone.”

He smiled. “Otherwise, after all, the term ‘free’ could equally be taken to mean that all trade in the Free Trade Zones should be carried at cost – or for no charge at all.”

Nute and Rune both winced.

“However,” Obi-Wan went on. “It would presumably be a reasonable alternative resolution for the Free Trade Zones to be confirmed as tax-free… for all carriers. There have been alarming reports of non-Trade-Federation-affiliated trade carriers facing heavy tariffs, meaning that there is a general sense that the Free Trade Zones are only free for the Trade Federation and their corporate partners… which is what has led to the proposition, as it’s seen as restoring fairness.”

Obi-Wan shrugged. “I’m sure that, between these factors, we can find out a resolution fair to all parties.”

“What I’m curious about, though, is why you’re blockading Naboo,” Qui-Gon went on, with a smile for Obi-Wan. “I’m aware that Senator Palpatine of Naboo is a prominent supporter of the legislation, but he’s hardly the only one, and his constituents are hardly likely to punish him for an anti-Trade-Federation position if the Trade Federation has just ruined their name in the Chommell Sector.”

Nute frowned.

“I hadn’t thought of that,” he admitted, then paused.

A frown creased his brow, then he put his hands on the table.

“It’s too much,” he said. “The only thing I can do is back down.”

“From the blockade?” Obi-Wan asked, curiously.

“From the plan,” Nute said. “The… the plan was to invade Naboo! To raise pressure! But – but Darth Sidious didn’t warn us there would be Jedi Knights!”

His hands clenched and unclenched. “I couldn’t do it with you on board, and – and to kill Jedi? Even if it could be done, it would be a disaster! The Jedi have lasted a thousand years as the guardians of peace and I know I’m not the first to think about trying to-”

He broke off, and the two Jedi exchanged glances.

“You were planning with someone called Darth Sidious?” Qui-Gon asked, carefully. “You’re sure of that?”

“Yes,” Nute confirmed. “He said he was a Sith…”

“We have recordings of our last few conversations,” Rune added. “And his com codes… I’m fairly sure he’s closely associated with the Senate, he said that by the time our private army had to be used then using it would be legal.”

Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon exchanged glances.

“...com codes?” Qui-Gon repeated.

“I wonder where this is going,” Obi-Wan said.

Then he glanced at Nute and Rune. “Thank you both for coming forwards with this information… it’s certainly going to be better for you than if you hadn’t, though the exact details are going to depend on the specifics…”

Palpatine tapped his foot on the floor of the Naboo senate box as a banal debate about procedure continued, endlessly.

When was that delegation going to reach Naboo? He needed to push events to the next critical juncture – if he was going to become Chancellor, then it wasn’t enough to be just one of a number of anti-Trade-Federation voices. He needed Naboo to be a martyr that would push him into the top seat.

Worse, there had been a strange feeling in the Force recently. It might just mean that Maul was already planning to kill him… the young Sith was a blunt instrument, really, but a useful one, and it would take Palpatine years to replace him.

Unless he could properly turn Dooku, that was. There was real possibility there.

His comlink chirped, and Palpatine glanced down at it.

A call from Nute. Of course.

He refused the call, then a moment later the comlink began chirping again.

“Is something wrong?” asked the Senator on the next pod over.

“Probably not, but I’d better check,” Palpatine replied, making sure to set the comlink to voice only before answering.

“I am busy,” he hissed.

There was a moment of silence, and Palpatine frowned at the comlink before putting it to his ear.

It sounded very faintly like someone had just said ‘now’.

“THIS COMLINK BELONGS TO A SIIIIIIIIITH!” suddenly exploded out of the speaker, loud enough to echo off the far walls, instantly silencing the debate and drawing every eye. Palpatine flinched, the comlink clattering to the floor of the box, and it kept wailing. “HIS NAME’S DARTH SIDIOUS AND HE ENCOURAGED THE TRADE FEDERATION BLOCKADE! HE MIGHT BE A SENATOR OR AN AIDE BUT THE JEDI SHOULD ARREST HIM EITHER-”

Palpatine finally managed to stamp on the comlink, smashing it to pieces with a snarl on his face, then looked up.

Every single eye in the Senate was fixed on him.

“...prank call?” he tried, but even to him it didn’t sound convincing.

#star wars #palpatine #another bad day for palps #obi wan kenobi #qui gon jinn #rune hako #nute gunray #trying to kill a jedi is scary because they might all come for you

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hauntedfictionland · 8 months ago

Text

❝Forbidden pursuits❞

☾︎✰❛❀ Gwayne hightower x Fem! Reader x Alicent hightower

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You, a Cole of Stormlands and one of the ladies in waiting, had been indulged with the green queen for quite a time. It just so happened that her brother came to king's landing and you truly realised the beauty of the hightowers. Something that could get you in tremendous trouble.

𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬/𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Sexual themes, kissing, jealousy, homophobia, mentions of patriarchy and death, class differences and slightly possessive behaviour.

🪐𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I had this idea as soon as I saw hotd season two. I mean, I've never done a writing where reader was interested in two characters at once, but there's a first time for everything I guess. And this turned out to be more of a alicent x reader fic, than a gwayne/alicent fic I realised as I kept writing it, but here it is! And yes, I quoted Bridgerton.

You were soaking in bliss.

One of her hands cupped your cheeks, her thumb lazily running circles around them as her other held your waist tightly. Like you would run away and never come back. She always did that, holding you in her grasp so closely, like she couldn't get close enough, as though you both could become one. Alicent Hightower, or rather, the queen, was unable to do anything under your touch, she went so weak and you didn't even know it.

You first met her after the tourneys, after your brother defeated the rogue prince. She had already seen your brother, but stopped dead in her tracks as her eyes fell on you, so beautiful as you talked with Criston inside the castle walls. Her chest bundling up with feelings that were improper and forbidden for a lady. Especially when it came to another one. After her unfortunate marriage, she did become close with your brother—but you? avoided as if you were the plague. To her, you were always a forbidden thing. Something she can never have.

Or rather never allow herself to have.

But after the infamous engagement night of princess Rhaenyra and ser Laenor, as she saved ser Criston, all she could think about was you. If your brother was banished or hanged, you would be heartbroken. And also, your reputation will also be ruined, she felt this need to protect you—to keep you close to her. And you would probably move away. Considering all of them, she saved the life of your brother.

Afterwards, she allowed herself to interact with you, convincing herself that it was only right that she gets to know his family after doing such a huge favour for him. Refusing to even the thought that it was all just an excuse to see you. And yet, she found herself staring at your lips as you spoke, having the urge to grab you and kiss them so strong it scared her. You scared her. All these things, these horrifying feelings she felt, how out of control her mind because at just your mere presence? well she could already imagine the look on her father. Of disgust.

Especially when Criston started talking to you about marriage, to have a lord from a suitable house be betrothed to you. He had thought Alicent would be thrilled about that idea as he proposed it, now that he had her favour. Little did he know she was nowhere near happy about it. You, who held her fragile heart in your hands without even knowing it, you, who made her skin shiver at even the mere thought of you—you, who was the bane of her existence yet the object of all her very desires. You.

How could she let anyone else steal you and your heart?

She let your brother on, avoiding the subject as long as she could. After all she was being selfish. You were probably nothing like her, you must fawn over knights and lords. Dream of marrying one. You would never share her— those absurd feelings she refused to ever acknowledge. There was no point in keeping you close to her. Until that night took place.

The night you kissed her.

You and her had been sitting in her bed in her private chambers, eating dinner and talking all the gossips about the castle. With you, she felt like a young girl she used to be with Rhaenyra. She had just put baby Helena to bed, well the maids did, but she watched. She never really knew how to take care of her children, when she felt like a child herself.

But with you, there was peace, happiness and a bubbling feeling in her chest. This was the sole moment between you and her, just alone in the comforts of her chamber. This felt oddly intimate to her, but she was sure it was nothing like that to you or any other ordinary lady who liked spending time with friends. She remembers it so well.

“And” you speak, barely able to control your laughter, “her baby looked quite like the Ser Arthur might I add, instead of her husband. She didn't even deny that when I asked.”

Alicent smiles, her chest bundling with joy at the sight of you laughing. She loved seeing you happy, the curve of your jaw and the lashes of your eyes, they were strangely so perfect. Everything about you aligned all so perfectly, she wondered if you even knew. If she herself even knew how much she craved you.

“Your grace?” she hears you speak out, snapping out of her momenterlly thoughts containing you, “are you listening?”

A frown appeared on her face. You had never called her by her name. Always so formal. She never objected since she felt the eyes of her father's little birds everywhere, and it would be inappropriate for one to think that the queen was giving a companion this much liberty. Especially when that companion just so happened to be a lady. But right now? this moment was just yours and hers.

“You can call me Alicent.” She says, a bare softness in her tone, “I tend to believe we are close friends now.

You formed an ‘oh’ shape in your lips, slowly and hesitantly nodding. She waited, to hear those words out of you. To see how her name would sound like from your mouth.

“Okay, Alicent.”

Gods, it was heaven. Her eyes widened, a quick hitch escaping her. You..said her name? and it sounded so sweet, so pure coming from you. Like she has just gotten something she didn't know she had been craving and aching for until now. If heaven existed, it was you for her.

She couldn't help herself before words came spilling out of her mouth, “Say it again.” your eyes widen, a bit overwhelmed and shook. It seemed she herself was surprised at her own request, but didn't convey any further. You gulped, unknowingly a shiver coming down your spine. This felt...close and personal. This felt forbidden.

“....Alicent.”

“Again.”

Your head looks up at her, “I.... Alicent?”You see her sigh, her chest heaving. You notice there's a bite of the stew you both ate a few minutes ago, on her lips. Without thinking, you reach out your hand, her breath hitches as your thumb brushes against her lower lip. You got caught in a haze, your thumb slowly lingering a bit longer than it should. Her eyes, brown and wide, stared at you with a look you couldn't quite figure out. All you knew was that your heart was beating faster than ever, moonlight striking on her beautiful face as the winds seemed to slow down. You did not know what came to you, when your head leaned in so close to her's, your foreheads touching.

And your lips softly brushed against hers.

It was slow at first, but you got the steady—ness you needed when she moved her lips against yours. That she did not pull away, with a disgusted look. If you had kissed her before she had gotten married, perhaps she would have. But at this moment? when she was mother to two and in a marriage with a man twice her age, she wouldn't let go of any chance of happiness. Of love. Of her truest desires. You. She grabbed your neck, pulling you even closer with a surprising desperation and ache. Humming quietly as she felt the taste of your lips, pink and rosemary. It was so, better, and softer compared to Viserys. It was everything she wanted. Needed.

After that day, she told you—or rather asked for you to stay by her side. That she'd make you one of her ladies—in—waiting. It was surprising, that Alicent wanted you all the time after the very moment you both shared. Because of the fact that she used to go to the sept every day after seeing you, praying to the gods for them to rid her of this feeling, this sin. The one she felt every time she saw you. But after that kiss? how could it be wrong if it felt all so right?

So you stayed. And she took it as a blessing. Took you as one. Because to her, you were.

And now there you are, tangled in each other after all these years. It had been a few weeks, since her husband's death. Yet she felt more free than ever before.

You had been laying beside her in her bed, only the sheets covering both your bodies. She turned to look at you, pupils expanding at the sight of you. Alicent nestled her face in the crook of your neck, as you felt a blush rise up your cheeks. This—even after all the chaos of the court and her children, this was heaven.

“Y/N?” you heard her muffled voice speak up, tilting your chin to get a better look.

“Hmm?”

She peaked her head up, the sunlight and its rays coming up to reflect on both of you, the morning was still early and it was her most favourite part of the day. Because you were there, wrapped up in her. Alicent's fingers traced up from your jaw to your cheeks and eventually settling on to caress your forehead and eye brows. She was always so attentive and gentle in how she took care of you, as if you were her most prized possession. She wondered how a breathing living soul could have this much power over her.

“I—” she hesitates, not because she's unsure but because she's afraid you are, “I love you.”

Your eyes blow wide open, lips parting. Of course, it was evident you both cared and lusted for each other, but love? you did feel a brewing in your chest every time you saw your brother looking at her with loving eyes, or her smiling at him in return. And perhaps a sick yet joyous feeling in your chest as she would kiss your cheek while baby Aegon or Aemond had been playing in your lap years ago. A swelling feeling of something you did know would only result in heartbreak.

She was the queen, the very queen of the seven kingdoms. While you came from a steward's house with no land or title to yourself.

And now she was telling you she shared your love? that she was in love with you? No. It couldn't happen. You were a woman, and so was she. Even if that boat sailed a long time ago, it still did not change the fact that this was wrong and frowned upon in so many ways. You could even be beheaded, hanged or much worse. Besides, she doesn't mean it. How could she? you were you, while she was everything. Even if she's saying it now, when she comes out of the daze, she'll regret every thing she said.

“I—no!” you get up, shrinking away from her embrace. Alicent follows your movement, a sudden fear and heartache in her eyes. “I..I can't do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, I'm sorry if I upsetted you—”

You interrupt her, harshly, “No!” your chest becomes heavy, breathing ragged. “You have no idea what you're saying and I...I will never share the same feelings.”

Suddenly you regret saying that, saying anything. Because she has a pool of tears forming in her eye lids.

You realise it is because of you. Of course that was a lie, you loved her more than you thought possible. Alicent Hightower had your heart the moment you had seen her, but now? You had possibly lost the best thing of your life. All because of insecurity. You just did not know how much you really did mess up, until it becomes too late. Hightowers don't let anyone get away with hurting them, you should have known that. Especially when another one was about to come in your life.

It had been a month and twelve days since you had not talked to Alicent.

So much had happened in that time. Aegon's son, Jahaerys, a baby, was executed while in his sleep. A period of mourning followed. She did not come to you once, instead being cold to her own son and preferring the company of your brother instead. You knew that when he was made the hand of the king, they both sitting together and even smiling at hallways.

Maybe you were being paranoid, but it was well deserved after what you had done.

However, the aftermath of the little boy's death, and speculation of it being Rhaenyra's hand, Aegon came to you. He knew you since he was a little baby, and saw you as a second mother. Perhaps you were more than Alicent was. He cried, confided how nobody in his council understands him—how his own mum doesn't acknowledge or understand his grief. You knew Alicent had a hard time with Aegon out of all her children, she saw him as all her failed dreams and ambitions. It was wrong. But you didn't blame her. You had seen what happened to her.

You offered him comfort, after what he had been through, it was the least you could offer. Also perhaps because you felt a tinge of guilt after everything that had happened with Alicent and you.

With Aemond, you adored the boy when he was a kid. He was sensitive and kind. That's what you loved the most about him. But, as years passed, with the driftmark incident and now, the stormlands one, he was completely unrecognisable. Cold, sharp and quiet. That's how he was. You did not know how to even approach him, he was smart, and everytime Alicent and you were in his presence, he was always watching attentively. Much like Otto. You did not want more reasons for Alicent to be angry with you any longer.

Much in your thoughts, you did not realise Criston speaking until he shook your arm. You snapped up to him, as he chuckles.

“Wish me luck?” he says, you are suddenly remembered where he was to go. Rook's rest with a pack of king's guards. You wanted him to be well, and alive, of course you did. Yet the small smile you gave couldn't help but be slightly forced.

“Of course,” your head lies low, biting your lip, “I wish you luck and for no harm to come to you, brother.”

Looking around, all the knights were either walking somewhere or getting their armour and suit dressed up. This could be dangerous as well as harming. Capturing rook's rest, the black queen might send one of her dragons. And Criston would be there to face the burn. Your chest tightened at the thought, you did not want your brother to be harmed let alone die.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see her, Alicent walking towards your direction. Your breath hitches, looking upwards of an excuse to leave but it's too late; she's already in front of your brother. Not even glancing at you.

“Your grace” he greets, as you cursty in response. She didn't spare you a single look. A bitter taste in your mouth formed at that.

“Ser Criston” Alicent looks at him, a glint in her eyes “may the seven guide you, good knight. And lead you not into shadow and death.”

There's an unspoken tension between them, as you look back and forth in—between the two. It was eating you away, like a knot grew further. Was there something there? even the thought made you want to scream. He thanked her for her prayers, and she turned away. You thought that was the end of it, before he called out to her. Requesting that she grant him her favour. That her lord commander may go into battle with her blessings in her heart.

“What are you doing?” you quietly hissed.

Alicent did not do anything, but as she saw your reaction, perhaps that changed her mind. She had a very light smirk, as she walked towards him. Your eyes widened as she took out a hanky, letter A engraved on it. You saw the whole interaction, their hands touching as he received it with a smile. You were...you didn't know what you were. All you knew was that you'd vomit if you watched a second more. You turn away, tears bubbling in your eyes as you walked away. You didn't see where you were going, only that you needed to be as far away as possible.

Until you bumped into someone.

“For god's sake!” a man with an accent of old town yelps out.

He was a knight. He was handsome, tall and sluggish. Light brown haired just like Alicent. You looked down to see hightower symbol at the centre of his armour. It dawned on you, he was Gwayne Hightower. Otto Hightower's oldest son. He was Alicent's brother. What truly concerned you was that you noticed the freckles on his cheeks to nose, the alignment of his jaw and the colour of his eyes. He was quite gorgeous.

“I apologize, my lord. I did not know where I was heading.”

Gwayne looks you up and down, lips pursued in a thin line as though he was trying to figure you out. His head tilted, and somehow you found the act more attractive than you should.

“The mistake was mine, my lady. I should have seen it from a mile ago.” he says, quite charmingly, “Although I do wonder, I did not catch your name. You see it's daily you see a beautiful woman when you're heading to a battlefield.”

A giggle escapes you, not knowing a pair of eyes that were on you.

“Why thank you, my lord.”

You smile, a genuine one. “I am...well I'm..” you knew the hightowers were quite upset at the revelation of your brother being named hand. It was a revenge scheme against Otto, but you were happy he got the chance. If he were to find out you were a Cole, perhaps he won't like you. But, why were you worried whether he likes you or not? a turmoil forms in your head, hands coming over to clasp themselves. You started in the only way you believed would be appropriate.

“I would first like to apologise for the late dismissal of your father, the formal lord hand. He served three kings very well.” you clear your throat, “I know it must feel, well, surprising and sort of a tiny betrayal. My brother was the least expectant candidate for the role.”

His mouth opens at the realisation, lips parting. He looked like he wanted to speak his mind, but stopped. Nodding modestly.

“I appreciate your kind words, Lady Cole.” he didn't fail to mention the disappointment in his tone. Although, a mischievous glint in his eyes was still there. “I do not mean to be rude, but I did not expect you when I thought of Criston Cole's sister.” your eyes furrowed, a frown on your lips. “What did you expect, my lord?”

Your heart quickens as he smiles, he has a beautiful smile. You think.

“I did not expect her to be so....kind hearted and well mannered.”

“Well mannered?” you repeat.

He's quick to respond, “I only meant, you turned out to be much more to my liking than I expected. Perhaps more than I will ever find your brother. But do not tell him that, my lady.”

A laugh escapes your lips, unknown to the very eyes you were so familiar with watching the whole ordeal.

“I wouldn't dream of it, my lord.” your voice was a whisper, eyes brightened. Gwayne had a smile of his own, only disappearing when Alicent called out for him.

“I should take my leave, my lady. A pleasure talking to you.” you watch him nod politely, walking away where Criston and Alicent stood. Suddenly you realised the butterflies in your chest, how taken you were with him. This was bad, very much so. Even if it was only a mere attraction, and what you shared with Alicent was much more—this wasn't good at all.

The night was moonless, only the stars light to keep you company. You liked to walk in the halls of the castle at night time, with no other to judge or peer at. No sounds of hushed and loud whispers, handmaidens running here and there or guards at every center. This was peaceful. Some would say it wasn't secure or safe, but since you hadn't encountered any accidents yet, you did not see a reason to stop. Although the silence left opportunities for thoughts.

You wondered if Gwayne was married. He was a knight, swore an oath of chastity, so probably not. It did not matter to you, all you were was curious. After what happened to Jahaerys, and Alicent focusing on her own family. Her real one—the one she created. You could say you felt a bit left out, she had a whole family of her own, the royal family. While you were no more than her mistress. It felt like a slap to your face, like reality struck down at you with a thousand bolts. You will never be the apple of her eye, her entire focus. You will always be on the sidelines.

As you walked further into the castle, you did not notice a tail of footsteps following behind before it was too late. A hand grabbed your shoulder, slamming you against the wall with much force.

“Ouch!” you hissed in pain, and immediately look forward to who caused it. Your chest tightened, eyes widening. Alicent stood there with both hands on your shoulders.

She lunged in, her lips attaching yours. This was different, a surprise yelp out of you came out muffled. Alicent was desperate in the way she held your waist, her other hand trailing up your neck. She never did this, in a public place where anyone could see. Hell—you, both could die if anyone were to even walk in the same direction. She was bold, harsh and angry. You could feel that in her kiss. Yet there was just a tiny tenderness in the way she caressed the chin of your face.

You gasped as she pulled away, rage in her eyes, and a little something else too, “You were smiling at him like he was about to charm your dress off?” she scoffs, jealousy in her voice. You realised who she hinted at, Gwayne, her brother.

“I—” you're cut off by the sinking feeling of her lips on your neck, softly sucking at your sweet spot, earning a very quiet moan from you. Alicent knew every inch of your body like it was her's, every scar, every burn and every where she knew you would succumb to her mercy.

You hushed, pleading for her to stop as one could see both of you. She did not. Alicent was being unfair, and you knew that. But you could not let her get away with it, not after she had made you feel such burning pain as well. You push her away, just lightly, enough to send her stumbling back on her feet. Eyes red. She had been crying, you notice, now that you had finally seen her clearly. A ache settles in your heart at the realisation. But you shrug it off.

“You can't treat me like I'm your personal girl at a brothel!” you shout in a whisper, as she scoffs. A malice on her tongue, “Well, seeing you making such affections on my brother, perhaps you are no less than any woman who works there.”

Your eyes widened at her implication, shock coming up you. How could she say that? to call you a...whore? You didn't see if Alicent regretted it, you did not give her a chance to before speaking yourself out of pure anger.

“And what if I did have affections for your brother? he is a charming man.”

This wasn't particularly a lie, and that scared you. Just how much of a beautiful man he was, and the way you felt around him.

“What?” her face drops, and you feel just a little satisfaction at seeing that. You both were furious, and unwilling to step down. She gritted her teeth, opening her mouth to say something more cruel but you beat her to it. —“Besides,” you start, your voice bitter, “you yourself share quite some... fondness for my brother, don't you? so why does it matter?”

That made her go quiet. And your heart even dropped more. Did it mean your words held any truth? that she really has caught some feelings for him? You were uncomfortable, very at that. Now you wished you never went for a walk in the first place. How did she even know this? did she follow you? you did not know.

Her eyes softened, “Do you really believe that?”

Before you answered, she sealed your lips with another yearning kiss. Reluctant to pull away as her lips maintained just mildly in contact with your lower lip as she pulled a bit back.

“I only want you, I've only ever wanted you. Not Criston, or anyone else. You. I thought you would have known that by now.”

She was referring to the morning she said those words. When she told you she loved you. Your harsh words, her tears, you start to remember everything. A pang of guilt comes to your chest, all this time you were afraid. Not just of the world, and the consequences, but of her. Alicent Hightower was the most beautiful woman you had ever seen, and she was a highborn, a lady, and eventually the queen. You were nowhere near compared to in terms of social class. A steward's daughter. You had always felt shame in that title. How could anyone love you? how could anyone as magnificent and enduring as Alicent love you? the queen of the seven kingdoms.

“I...” you breathe, unable to speak. It's either now or never. And you decide that Alicent Hightower is too deeply longed in your heart to lose.

“I love you.” Alicent's breath hitches at your sudden confession. Like she cannot breathe. She shakes her head, avoiding your eyes. “no you do not mean that. You can't, you're just saying that to ease my heart.”

You feel pain at her words, that she believed you did not love her. When in fact that's all you've been doing since you saw her. You take a hold of her shoulders, pushing her lips to yours. She gasps at the sudden act, but slowly her hands crept up your shoulders. A tear drops up on your cheek, you realise it's not yours. For the first time, neither of you care about the consequences. What would anyone say? the religion, family, society. You didn't care—not anymore, if you could hold her in your arms again and tell her just how much you love her. And neither did she.

Alicent releases an involuntary moan when your leg comes in between hers. Your knee shifting at her. She pulls away, looking for something. Staring directly into your eyes.

“You really, feel love for me?” she whispers, and you smile, pulling a strand of hair out of her eyes. “I always have. Before I even saw you. Your grace.”

She now has a smile of her own. Pulling you closer by your neck, “Well, then tell me again that you love me. It's your queen's order. And the punishment of rejecting it is fatal.”

You giggle at her words, “Oh is it?” she nods, a blush on both sides of her cheek. “Then how can I refuse? especially when I love you.” Alicent immediately kisses you before you could even finish the words. Hands coming up to cradle your face. This, this was love. You knew where it was going. And you were going to relish in it.

That night, you spend time in the queen's chambers. Filled with love and passion. And lust. You were always Alicent's soft spot. Her weakness, yet her power. And so was she yours. You know you love her. But, Gwayne Hightower? her brother. The thought of him brought dread to you, because of how much pleasure it brought. You didn't love him, but gods, you felt a great attraction towards him. Especially when he smiles. No, you couldn't do that. You had to distract yourself, spend more time with Alicent. The only time he did not come to your mind. Because if you didn't do that, and indulged in his thoughts, now that he was about to come back? well it would bring a great deal of trouble for you.

You knew Hightowers were always trouble.

𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑚:) 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑖𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛!

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