#I hate it when shawls curve

[sodacowboy]

slowly but surely I’m working my way towards the final draft of this crochet pattern

[slut-and-falcon]

Wicked Fiyeraba Headcannons:

-Fiyero def sits on Elphaba’s lap

- they call each other Yero and Fae; after the Wicked Witch persona dies, they only go by Yero and Fae so less people will be able to tie them to the dead witch and the missing prince.

- one of Fiyero’s favorite activities is to have Elphaba read to him. He finds it very relaxing, and informative. (Fiyero has dyslexia and that why he doesn’t like reading himself- but dyslexia isn’t a diagnosis in Oz, it hasn’t been recogized)

- they take care of young orphaned Animals, and Fiyero got Elphaba an egg apron so she could put all the kittens/small Animals in the pockets while she was caretaking

- Fiyero likes to draw…he draws a lot of Elphaba (and the Animals, but mostly Elphaba)

- Fiyero likes to purchase Vinkun silk scarves for Elphaba. She uses some for practical embellments in her clothing- like as a belt, shawl or hair covering. Others she keeps as house clothes- like as a night shawl. There’s one though- black with red roses- that is only used during intimacy with Fiyero.

- Elphaba and Fiyero have really complex feelings about Glinda…she was Elphaba’s close and only friend for a while, but Fiyero helped Elphaba realize that Glinda treated her like crap (this is apart from not making the sacrifices to leave with Elphaba). Elphaba also had some romantic feelings towards Glinda, and does not know what to do with those feelings. Fiyero loved Glinda, but wasn’t in love with her. He is highly aware of her faults, but still misses her and feels bad for what happened. Both realize that Glinda was manipulated by the Wizard and Madam Morrible, but both also realize that only Glinda is responsible for Glinda’s actions. And can they forgive her for being an anti-Animal/Anti-Witch propaganda machine? For helping in orchestrating Nessa’s death, and creating a trap for Elphaba? They don’t know. Together, Elphaba and Fiyero write letters to Glinda that are then burned before being sent, allowing them to work through all of these feelings and trauma they have in relation to Glinda.

- Fiyero’s favorite thing todo to annoy Elphaba is to use her butt as a pillow. Elphaba hates it (but will tolerate it) and Fiyero loves it.

-Elphaba is very passionate about a lot of stuff, and has a habit of information dumping, even when it’s considered rude. Fiyero likes it, but has felt the need to coach Elphaba for when the time is appropriate to do so, after she accidentally offended Fiyero’s mother.

- Fiyero and Elphaba do the whole “3 taps means I Love You” thing

-Fiyero likes to comb/take care of Elphaba’s hair

- Fiyero is an addict, he got addicted to a ❄️-like ozian drug while in his rebellion/coping-with-being-royalty phase. He hasn’t always been completely honest with Elphaba about it, but he got clean when he joined the Gale Force. He still had carvings, especially with his chronic pain and stress, and he tries to be as honest as possible with Elphaba about his cravings. They both use 🍃 to deal with chronic pain and stress though, but in moderate amounts.

- After being tortured by the Gale Force- Fiyero develops Narceolpsey. It’s a learning curve for both him and Elphaba.

-Elphaba offered Fiyero an open relationship (not because she wanted one but because she thought he would be unhappy with just her, and the novelty would wear off). Fiyero refused (while he had been poly in the past, he refused because he knew Elphaba’s reasonings were based in her feeling inadequate and self conscious).

Hmm I’ll think of more

[shizu-nagita]

The stars are crying. (Pt.2)

I hate tumblr for its paragraph limits. Harebell, Golden berry belong to chibi’s productions, First Jam belongs to allimili, First water belongs to jirai . Their blogs are in the masterlist.

masterlist:

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

Foop!

A Small crack in the air opened up, revealing an inky darkness splattered with stars, and yet nobody at the parlor, all lavishly dressed, batted an eye, the sight familiar enough to know that the light of Eternity had arrived.

The void shimmered, then yielded, and Star Swirl Cookie stepped into the Pearl Parlour. The air, thick with the sweet perfume of moon orchids and the salty tang of the nearby sea as a soothing melody played in the background.

While first Water cookie had asked her to be her bridesmaid, she had told her specifically not to buy a specific dress or theme, instead she had requested them to arrive in their own colors.

{ It just feels sort of wrong to force you to wear something that you usually aren't in, i would just love it if you arrived in what you liked!}

And so, her gown was a star in the twilight hues of a starlit night. Layers of gossamer fabric, the deepest indigo fading into soft, shimmering violets at the hem. Tiny, hand-stitched constellations of silver thread twinkled across the bodice and flowed down the skirt, catching the soft, pearlescent light of the parlour and scattering it in delicate patterns on the polished floor,around her shoulders, she wore a shawl of the same deep indigo, its edges trimmed with delicate silver lace.

Star Swirl Cookie’s fingers clenched, her eyes nervously darting around the extravagant , intricately decorated room, swirls of blue, white, and gold melting into each other with a delicate dance as people chattered away, completely unaware of another’s panic, some even staring at her.  

But there is someone , one who noticed when no one else would . 

"Star Swirl Cookie!" A familiar voice called out, her voice as light and airy as a summer breeze. "Over here!"

Star Swirl Cookie, her expression a mixture of surprise and relief, turned towards the sound of her name. Her gaze met Harebell Cookie’s, and for a fleeting moment, a spark of recognition passed between them, one of relief, and one of joy.

Harebell Cookie's bridesmaid attire was a breathtaking testament to her inherent wonder, a visual symphony of soft hues and whimsical details. The foundation of the dress was layer upon layer of fine tulle, each dyed in a gradient of periwinkle that deepened into soft lavender at the lower tiers, creating a sense of ethereal depth. These layers weren't stiff or structured, but rather possessed a fluid, almost cloud-like quality, allowing them to billow and sway with her slightest movement.

The bodice was a delicate tapestry of the same pastel tulle, intricately gathered and ruched to create a soft, almost sculpted effect. Tiny, iridescent seed beads, like captured starlight, were meticulously sewn into the fabric, catching the light and adding subtle, shimmering highlights. The neckline was a gentle sweetheart, framing her delicate collarbones and accentuating the graceful curve of her neck. Thin, almost invisible straps of shimmering silver thread rested on her shoulders, adding a touch of delicate support without detracting from the ethereal quality of the tulle.

The embroidery of moonflowers and shooting stars was a focal point of enchantment. The moonflowers were depicted with delicate, silvery petals outlined in the palest lavender, their centers adorned with tiny, opalescent beads that seemed to glow from within. The shooting stars were trails of shimmering amethyst and pale violet thread, each leaving a tiny, sparkling trail of silver sequins in its wake, as if they had just streaked across a twilight sky. These celestial embellishments were scattered across the bodice and flowed down the skirt in graceful, organic patterns, creating a sense of movement and magic.

Adding to the whimsical charm were delicate, almost imperceptible details. Tiny, hand-stitched silver threads formed miniature constellations between the larger embroidered motifs, adding another layer of subtle sparkle. Here and there, tiny, iridescent sequins, shaped like miniature crescent moons and five-pointed stars, were scattered amongst the tulle, catching the light and creating a sense of inner luminescence.

The skirt was a voluminous cascade of the layered tulle, creating a soft, dreamy silhouette that seemed to float around her. As she moved, the different shades of periwinkle and lavender within the layers created a subtle, shifting play of color, like the twilight sky deepening into night. The hemline was deliberately uneven, adding to the whimsical, almost fairy-like quality of the dress.

Finally, peeking from beneath the swirling layers of tulle were her dainty silver slippers. These weren't simply shoes; they seemed crafted from pure moonlight, their surfaces catching and reflecting the light with a soft, ethereal gleam. Tiny, delicate straps of shimmering silver thread crisscrossed her ankles, adding a final touch of delicate enchantment to her already captivating attire. The entire ensemble was a perfect embodiment of wonder, a visual poem of pastel hues and celestial magic.

Her eyes, the color of a twilight sky, sparkled with excitement and understanding as she spotted Star Swirl Cookie standing amidst the crowd. A playful grin spread across her face, she raised a hand in greeting, shifting closer to her through the crowd as First Jam closely followed by. As Harebell Cookie, a whirlwind of periwinkle tulle and boundless energy, finally reached Star Swirl's side, she inadvertently shifted, revealing the figure standing just behind her. It was First Jam Cookie, and their presence seemed to radiate a gentle warmth that contrasted with the cool, pearlescent light of the Pearl Parlour.

First Jam Cookie's attire seemed less a gown and more a manifestation of gentle dawn breaking across a field of fresh cream. The fabric, a whisper-thin silk the color of purest, unsweetened cream, flowed around her with an almost liquid grace, each subtle movement creating soft, ethereal ripples, as if stirred by a celestial breath. The material possessed a delicate luminosity, absorbing the ambient light and radiating a soft, inner warmth.

The neckline was a serenely elegant curve, a gentle arc that highlighted the smooth, graceful lines of First Jam Cookie´s dough, suggesting a quiet strength and inner peace. The sleeves, crafted from the same weightless silk, billowed with an almost imperceptible movement, like the unfurling petals of a sacred white blossom caught in a divine sigh, hinting at a gentle, giving nature.

Adorning this heavenly expanse were accents of a deep, luscious crimson, the very essence of First Jam´s signature , appearing as if brushed onto the fabric by an angel's fingertip. Delicate embroidery, depicting stylized strawberry blossoms with softly rounded petals and slender, swirling vines that seemed to climb towards the heavens, adorned the bodice. These weren't mere stitches; they appeared like delicate veins of lifeblood, subtly pulsing with a gentle energy as they trailed down the skirt, grounding the ethereal cream with a touch of earthly sweetness and organic beauty. A slender ribbon of the same rich crimson was tied loosely around her waist, a gentle embrace that subtly defined her form, adding a soft, vibrant focal point like a sunrise on a snowy landscape.

First Jam´s long, flowing red hair, with its unique, subtly glistening texture reminiscent of warm, freshly stirred jam, cascaded down their back in luminous waves, catching the light and appearing almost like molten starlight, a fiery yet gentle halo. Atop First Jam Cookie´s head rested a simple circlet, woven with an almost divine artistry from pristine white blossoms that seemed to emanate a soft fragrance and tiny, glistening red berries that resembled solidified drops of celestial ambrosia – a natural and understated crown that spoke of purity and quiet joy. Her entire presence exuded a serene and benevolent aura, a heavenly being gracing the earthly celebration with their gentle light.

First Jam…

Just like how others described her.

Was divine.

 Star Swirl Cookie just gave a small smile, looking First Jam Cookie and Harbell Cookie up and down, amazed at the sheer beauty of their outfits . “You guys… look magnificent . Truly, Harebell, you need to tell me where you got that fabric from.” 

Harebell lets out a small chuckle, amusement on her face as she just smiles. “ I made it! Wonderful isn't it?  After all, I didn't spend 4 hours just on design for it to be mediocre, this is First Water’s wedding!” 

Star Swirl Cookie’s body tenses, her heart suddenly aching at the reminder, before being forced to relax as she takes in a deep breath, steadying her nerves. 

"It truly is a sight!" Harebell Cookie exclaimed, her periwinkle eyes wide with genuine admiration as she gazed at First Jam. "Oh, First Jam Cookie, you look utterly ethereal in that gown! Honestly, if I didn't know you better, I'd think you'd just stepped off a celestial cloud – practically divine!"

A blush, the color of sun-ripened raspberries, bloomed delicately across First Jam Cookie's cheeks. They brought a gloved hand up to gently touch their face, their gaze drifting away with a shy smile. "Don't... exaggerate so, Harebell. It's a special day, all for First Water Cookie. Being here for them is the most important thing."

A comfortable quiet settled between them, punctuated by the soft murmur of conversation as more guests filled the pavilion. The gentle melody that had played earlier transitioned into the lilting strains of a waltz, and couples began to drift towards the center of the room, their movements graceful and slow.

Harebell Cookie watched the dancers for a moment, a wistful expression flickering across her face before she glanced at First Jam, then shook her head with a soft sigh, resuming her cheerful chatter.

Star Swirl Cookie observed this exchange, a subtle understanding dawning in her starlit eyes. A small, knowing smile touched her lips, and she gave Harebell a gentle nudge with her elbow. "Hey," she murmured, "I'll slip away for a bit. You two enjoy yourselves!" She offered a reassuring grin, then gracefully retreated towards the laden beverage tables.

Her jeweled heels clicked softly against the marble floor, the intricate patterns echoing the gentle sway of waves as she carried a plate laden with vibrant fruits to a less occupied table. Settling down, she observed the joyful scene, her gaze lingering on Harebell and First Jam as they moved together on the dance floor, their steps fluid and harmonious. A genuine, if slightly wistful, smile touched her lips.

[ Even if a part of me aches… this day deserves to be perfect for her. ]

A familiar presence settled beside her, a silent weight that brought a sense of grounding amidst the emotional currents. She turned to see Silent Salt Cookie, his lavender hair a calming hue in the vibrant room, his gaze holding an unspoken question.

A small, grateful smile touched Star Swirl’s lips. Silent Salt Cookie… he had been her anchor, the one who had patiently guided her nascent understanding of the world, a steadfast presence in her often-solitary existence.He had cared for her when she was just a small starspeck, unaware of the reality she had just spawned in. While others saw him as stoic and cold, she knew the quiet understanding that lay beneath, a rare soul who sought to comprehend her solitude without judgment.

A comfortable silence stretched between them before a soft murmur, barely audible above the music, reached her ears. "....How are you feeling?"

Star Swirl stilled, her heart giving a momentary lurch before settling back into a steady rhythm. Her hands fidgeted in her lap as she picked up a bright red strawberry, the juicy sweetness staining her lips as she avoided his gaze. Silent Salt Cookie’s amethyst eyes seemed to bore into her, seeking the truth beneath her carefully constructed facade.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice even. "There's nothing to worry about. I can bear it. I am eternity."

He regarded her, his gaze unwavering, a subtle narrowing of his eyes visible through the gap in his helmet, as if trying to decipher the unspoken emotions swirling within her. After a long moment, he released a soft sigh, a sound that held both acceptance and perhaps a hint of knowing. He reached out a gauntleted hand and gently patted hers before silently retreating back into the shadows of the room, leaving her alone once more. Star Swirl continued to nibble on the fruit, the sweetness a temporary distraction from the ache in her soul.

Then, Golden berry Cookie walked over, The joyous melody of the wedding waltz filled the Pearl Parlour, a swirling sea of pastel gowns and celebratory chatter. Her movements were fluid and graceful. Star Swirl turned, her gaze landing on a Golden Berry Cookie as she approached.

Her dress was a deliberate study in understated grandeur, a visual representation of her quiet strength and perceptive nature. It was crafted from a luxurious, flowing fabric in a shade of deep indigo, reminiscent of the twilight sky just before the first stars appear. The material possessed a subtle, almost liquid drape, moving with her every gesture like a silent wave.

The silhouette was an elegant A-line, gently skimming her slender figure without clinging, offering both comfort and a timeless grace. The bodice was simply constructed, perhaps featuring a softly gathered neckline or a subtle sweetheart shape that framed her face delicately. There were no excessive embellishments, allowing the richness of the fabric and the strategic placement of her accent color to speak volumes.

The "bright yellow" was incorporated with thoughtful artistry, appearing as intricate, hand-stitched embroidery that traced delicate, stylized vines and small, abstract floral shapes along the neckline, the narrow straps that graced her shoulders, and a subtle, flowing pattern that cascaded down one side of the skirt. The golden thread caught the ambient light with a soft, internal shimmer, like captured starlight against the deep blue canvas. The design wasn't overtly floral or whimsical, but rather possessed a refined, almost celestial quality.

There, along the dress were small, meticulously crafted appliques, also in a warm, burnished gold. These weren't flat, but possessed a subtle three-dimensionality, resembling tiny, stylized golden berries or perhaps miniature, unfurled leaves. They were strategically placed – a delicate cluster at her shoulder, a scattering along the bodice that subtly drew the eye, and a few near the hem of the skirt, creating a sense of visual harmony without overwhelming the deep blue.

The waistline was subtly defined by a narrow belt of the same deep indigo fabric, fastened with a simple, understated clasp of brushed gold. This provided a gentle cinching point, enhancing her slender figure without breaking the smooth flow of the gown.

The skirt cascaded to the floor in soft folds, its movement graceful and unhurried. The hem was clean and unfussy, allowing the richness of the fabric and the subtle golden accents to remain the focal point.

¨ Planning on passing out again?¨ Golden Berry Cookie asks, her jeweled heels clicking against the floor as she stops in front of Star Swirl Cookie, standing as she raises an eyebrow, pupils examining Star Swirl Cookie . 

Star Swirl Cookie sighs, bringing up a piece of cantaloupe, its flavors sweet and refreshing as she gently pulls out a chair for Golden Berry to sit in, offering another plate of fruits . 

¨ Will you ever let that incident go? ¨ 

“No,΅ Golden Berry Cookie says almost immediately, pausing only to take a seat next to her where Silent Salt Cookie used to sit just a few moments prior, picking up a piece of pineapple as she pops it into her mouth, perfectly manicured nails glinting in the light. “Frankly, I don't think I ever will, It's good blackmail material. ¨

Star Swirl gives a dramatic gasp, hand placed over her chest as her shawl swayed to the side from the force of the movement, ¨ You wound me, how could you ever black mail your friend ?¨

Golden Berry Cookie scoffs, ΅Oh please, you have enough dirt on me, this one piece of information will only get first Jam Cookie to lock you in a bed and keep you there for only a mere week.¨ 

Golden Berry cookie´s eyes trail over, locking onto the sight of First Jam Cookie and Harebell Cookie dancing together in a rhythm only they knew, her grip tightening as her eyes darkened with sorrow. 

Star Swirl Cookie looked at Golden Berry Cookie´s forlorn expression, legs crossing as the other took in a deep breath, as if schooling the rampaging emotions underneath her facade .

In a way, they weren't so different . 

They both yearned for an unobtainable dream . 

Star Swirl Watches a myriad of emotions flicker in Golden Berry´s eyes before watching her sigh and lean back in her chair, picking up one of her signature golden berries and eating it, golden juice smeared on her lip as she elegantly wipes it away the next moment with a napkin

Then, a clear, resonant voice, amplified by unseen magic, filled the pavilion. "Attention, esteemed guests, could we have all the bridesmaids make their way to the bride's dressing room, please?"

Star Swirl looked up at the source of the announcement, the magical sigils shimmering in the air, undoubtedly a creation of the Fount of Knowledge's power. With a sigh, she straightened, the layers of her starlit gown billowing softly around her as she smoothed out imaginary creases. Rising gracefully, she made her way towards the far end of the room, where she could now see First Jam Cookie and Harebell Cookie waiting at a doorway, their expressions a mixture of excitement and anticipation.

[ Don’t let them know. Today is special. Don't ruin it with your greed.]

The air in the Pearl Parlor shimmered with anticipation, the scent of freshly baked cookies mingling with the delicate fragrance of moon orchids. First Water, resplendent in a gown of shimmering pearls,Tides of seafoam curling around her in a form of a long, resplendent gown, stood at the altar, their eyes sparkling with a nervous excitement that mirrored the nervous energy buzzing through the room.

Instead of a traditional veil, a delicate mist, seemingly spun from moonlight and sea spray, drifted around their head and shoulders, occasionally swirling and revealing glimpses of their bright, watery eyes. Tiny droplets of condensed moisture clung to their translucent hair, sparkling like scattered diamonds.

And then, there they were: the bridesmaids.

Harebell Cookie, a vision in periwinkle and purple, fluttered towards the altar, her laughter light and infectious. Her platinum blonde hair cascaded down her back, framing her face, and her eyes, the color of a twilight sky, sparkled with genuine joy.

First jam gracefully walked down the aisle, dress billowing out in softer cream curves as the light reflected off the bright fabric, casting her in a gentle, otherworldly glow , the light filtering through her hair created patterns of dark red swirls, taking her place right by Harebell Cookie´s side . 

Then came Golden Berry Cookie, her long sleek dress spreading out in a delicate train across the marbled floor, midnight blue hair billowing out and framing her features perfectly, the golden accents on her body accentuating her color palette even more, yet a turmoil of emotions flickered in her bright honey eyes , her gaze locked on Harebell laughing with First Jam Cookie.

Following close behind, Star Swirl Cookie moved with a quiet grace, her starlit gown trailing behind her like a celestial wake. Her expression was serene, almost serene, a carefully constructed mask that hid the breakings of the soul within the vessel, carefully observing her surroundings, trying to find something to distract her from the main couple before ultimately closing her eyes .

[ It is her choice. Respect it.]

She repeated that thought like a mantra, like a wish that might come true if she prayed hard enough, as if she truly could be content with first Water´s wedding and ignore the burn inside her chest.

And as she opened her eyes, her breath hitched, iit seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she would still be enchanted by the mere sight of First Water Cookie. 

[ She was beautiful in her prime.]

First Water Cookie, on her wedding day, was a vision of oceanic splendor, a being seemingly sculpted from the very essence of the sea. Their gown was a masterpiece of liquid grace, a breathtaking testament to the beauty and power of their element.

a dress that wasn't simply made, but grown from the depths. The base was a shimmering fabric, the color of the deepest ocean trench, a rich, velvety blue-black that hinted at untold mysteries. Over this, layers upon layers of translucent material flowed, each catching the light and mimicking the undulating movement of waves. These layers weren't stiff or structured; they moved with an ethereal fluidity, creating the illusion of constant, gentle motion.

Adorning this oceanic canvas were countless pearls, each one unique and luminous. They weren't simply sewn on; they seemed to organically bloom from the fabric, clustered in patterns that resembled swirling currents, cascading waterfalls, and the delicate froth of seafoam. Some were tiny seed pearls, creating intricate patterns that traced the curves of their form, while others were larger, more luminous spheres that caught and refracted the light, scattering rainbows with every movement.

Woven throughout the gown were delicate strands of what appeared to be solidified moonglades, shimmering silver threads that mimicked the play of light on the water's surface. These threads created subtle, shifting patterns, like moonbeams dancing on the waves, adding an otherworldly luminescence to the already breathtaking dress.

The neckline was a graceful, sweeping curve, reminiscent of the horizon where the sky meets the sea, leaving their smooth, water-kissed dough bare. Sleeves, crafted from the same translucent fabric as the flowing layers, billowed out from their shoulders like ethereal seafoam, their edges shimmering with a delicate, iridescent sheen. They moved with a gentle, undulating rhythm, as if still connected to the ocean's tides.

Instead of a traditional veil, a delicate mist, seemingly spun from sea spray and moonlight, drifted around their head and shoulders. Tiny droplets of condensed moisture clung to their translucent hair, sparkling like scattered diamonds, completing the image of a being born from the heart of the ocean.

And inevitably, her eyes drew towards the Virtue of Knowledge, Shadow Milk Cookie, entranced by First Water too, adoration and love etched into his face as heterochromatic eyes gazed lovingly upon First Water´s form.

Her heart clenched with envy.

First Jam, ever perceptive, caught the flicker of emotion in Star Swirl’s eyes. A subtle shift in their expression, a fleeting shadow crossing their features, acknowledged the unspoken undercurrent between them. It was a silent acknowledgement, a shared understanding of the complexities that lay beneath the surface of this joyous occasion.

And then, Harebell, ever the optimist, broke the silence with a mischievous grin. “Ready to catch the bouquet, Star Swirl?” she teased, her voice light and airy.

Star Swirl managed a weak smile. “As if I could ever catch anything that falls from the sky,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Harebell chuckled. “Never say never, Star Swirl. After all, even the stars sometimes fall.”

Star Swirl looked away, unable to meet Harebell’s gaze. The words, meant as a playful jest, echoed with a painful irony. Stars, like dreams, could fall. And sometimes, when they did, they left behind a trail of stardust and a lingering sense of loss.

As the ceremony began, Star Swirl tried to focus on the vows, on the radiant joy that emanated from First Water and First Jam. But the echoes of her own unspoken feelings, the haunting memories of a future she could never truly claim, continued to linger, a discordant note in the symphony of celebration.….

Smile, because it is her wedding day, and she would want you to be happy. 

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

The wedding vows were a blur to Star Swirl cookie, having tuned out a long time ago, Harebell bristling with excitement and tears in her eyes , her hands clinging onto First Jam Cookie’s arms as First Jam just stood there, posture elegant and graceful as she watched the procession with a knowing eye. 

Star Swirl didn't see periwinkle crimson, and amber eyes dart back to her, as if attempting to gauge her emotions before turning their attention back to the main two, a hint of concern in their eyes as she just stands there, a smile on Star Swirl Cookie’s face.

[ Oh how I wish that could've been me. But.. In the end i suppose we were not destined to be together, for the water will always gravitate towards the moon, and never the stars ] 

Star Swirl cookie sighed, retreating to the back of the room after the vows were made, the words too sharp for her to bear as she stilled near the corner of the room, a cocktail in her hand as she held it by the delicate stem of the glass.

¨ Hey, Star Swirl? Are you… Okay?¨

Eyes widening, she looks up to see First Jam in front of her, crimson eyes flickering with worry and concern as she steps closer, her robes swaying with each movement in a graceful sway .

[ Even as the world continues on, someone will come by , going backwards to bring another with them towards the future.]

A small smile, tinged with sorrow spreads across Star Swirl Cookie´s face .

¨I…. I'm doing alright, thank you for worrying. ¨ Her hands fidget with the sleek fabric of her dress, twisting and pulling the fabric in one hand as the other sets down the cocktail . 

First Jam´s head tilts to the side, before shaking her head and sighing . ¨ Sometimes I wonder why you hide yourself away, but… take your time. We have enough of it.¨ She offers her hand, pearly white satin gloves shimmering in the light.

Star Swirl Cookie stared at her hand, before sighing. “ Thank you, for understanding.¨ Her hand hesitates, before reaching out to take First Jam Cookie´s hand. 

¨ What sort of friend would i be if i didn't give you time? ¨ First Jam gives a small laugh, amusement dancing in her eyes as she gently tugs her towards the center, where First Water, in all her pearlescent glory laughed, the aquamarine ring on her finger glimmered.

Star Swirl Cookie felt her soul slowly crack open, the eternity she longed for now out of her reach, but that was okay, as long as she wasn't alone, as long as they Stayed,  She´d be alright.

[ Or well, that's what i thought]

“Star Swirl Cookie! Come on, you're missing out on the fun!!!” A bubbly First Water dashed over, cold gloved hands grasping her wrists as she pulled Star Swirl Cookie further into the fray of people, First Jam cookie giving a small smile as she laughed at the display.

[ Even if the sun fell from its place in the sky, I would still chase you.]

And so, with a smile tinged with yearning, she allowed herself to be pulled into the center of the party, First Water Cookie’s energy infectious as she laughed and danced with the others, Golden Berry Cookie watching from the sidelines sipping on a cocktail created from her own golden berries, elation dancing through the air.

Yet, we were all blind. 

We all decided to ignore the truth, we all decided to stop pursuing our reality, allowing ourselves to get lost in a single moment as one of the pillars of the world crumbled, the virtue of change wasn't there . 

That was the scariest part. 

No one decided to piece together the facts, having just labeled his disappearance from the recent events as just a coincidence, not bothering to check on him, not bothering to see if he was alright.

In this world, ignorance is a sin with consequences . 

And unfortunately, the consequence would bring down an era.

After all, watching your creations die over and over again could break someone.

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

It's been… a few centuries ever since First Water had gotten married, yet the sting wasn't any better, the sight of the Fount of Knowledge and First Water together still burning a hole deep into her heart but she just stayed silent, unwilling to ruin their happiness all because of her greed.

But that was not what bothered Star Swirl Cookie.

An unsettling discord hummed beneath the surface of Star Swirl Cookie's usually serene perception. A feeling so profoundly wrong, so utterly out of sync with the familiar rhythm of eternity, gnawed at her. It was a persistent itch in her awareness, driving her to meticulously comb through the intricate tapestry of her schedule, her fingers ghosting over celestial alignments and diplomatic arrangements. Multiple passes through her inventory of stardust and enchanted artifacts yielded nothing amiss, yet the feeling persisted, a shadow clinging to the edges of her consciousness.

The unease clung to her throughout the day, a subtle tremor beneath her practiced composure. Even the bright, effervescent company of Harebell Cookie, usually a balm to any lingering worries, failed to dispel the growing anxiety. It felt as though an unseen darkness was slowly encroaching upon their vibrant civilization, a silent predator poised to seize its opportunity and plunge the world into an era of shadow.

Unable to bear the mounting tension any longer, Star Swirl instinctively reached out, her fingers latching onto the cool, smooth fabric of Harebell's sleeve. The sudden tug halted Harebell in her tracks, her broom sighing as it lowered gently to the ground. Turning, her periwinkle eyes widened with concern, the usual sparkle of wonder replaced by a genuine curiosity.

"Star Swirl Cookie?" Harebell asked softly, her brow furrowing. "What's wrong? You seem... deeply troubled."

"I-I…" Star Swirl stammered, the simple words catching like thorns in her throat. Harebell Cookie's concerned expression swam in her vision, the vibrant colors blurring at the edges as a crushing weight, heavy and inexplicable, settled upon her shoulders. A profound sense of wrongness permeated the air, a silent scream echoing in her soul, yet the source remained elusive.

"Hey, calm down," Harebell said gently, her voice a soothing balm. "It'll be okay. Take a deep breath with me. That's it." She met Star Swirl's gaze, the familiar sparkle of wonder now replaced by a sharp, knowing concern that sent another shiver down Star Swirl's spine.

Star Swirl swallowed hard, the metallic tang of fear coating her tongue. A cold sweat beaded on her brow as the jarring absence of something – a fundamental element of her existence – pressed in on her, a physical discomfort that went beyond mere anxiety. The eternity she had always known, the endless, predictable rhythm of time, felt fractured, altered in a way she couldn't comprehend.

A fragile whisper escaped her lips, a question born of a desperate need for confirmation. "Does… something feel off to you today?"

As the words hung in the air, a cloud drifted across the sun, casting a sudden, ominous shadow over them. Harebell Cookie stiffened, her periwinkle eyes widening with a dawning panic that mirrored Star Swirl's own growing dread.

"It… wasn't just me?" she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper, fear laced in her voice.

Star Swirl Cookie’s breath hitched, a strangled gasp trapped in her lungs. Her starlit eyes widened, pupils dilating as a raw, primal terror clawed its way up her throat, leaving a bitter taste of dread.

[If it reached Harebell… then that meant…] 

The unspoken thought hung heavy in the suddenly stifling air, a chilling premonition of a widespread corruption, a creeping tendril of darkness reaching even the most vibrant souls.

“Do you know what’s happening?” Star Swirl Cookie whispered, her voice a fragile thread, her usual bright gaze fixed on the horizon. The sky above them was a cruel paradox – a canvas of brilliant sunlight tainted with an unsettling undercurrent of gloom, as if a beautiful painting was slowly being stained by an invisible ink.

Harebell Cookie shook her head, her platinum blonde hair swaying with the tremor that ran through her. “I don’t…” she confessed, her voice barely audible. “The only thing… the only terrifyingly blind thing we can do… is try to find out.”

A palpable tension thickened the air between them, a silent acknowledgment of the unseen threat that clung to their world. They lingered for a moment, drawing a fragile comfort from each other's presence before the inevitable parting. Star Swirl Cookie's grip on Harebell's sleeve loosened with a reluctant slide, yet her hands trembled, betraying the storm of unspoken fears churning within her.

"If anything… shifts further," Star Swirl pleaded, her starlit eyes locking onto Harebell's, "tell me. Please. Don't hesitate."

Harebell Cookie sighed, a puff of worried air that ruffled her platinum blonde hair. She offered a strained nod, her usual buoyant energy dimmed by the encroaching dread. "I'll try," she promised, her voice barely a whisper. "I'll alert you the instant I sense anything… significant."

Star Swirl released a shaky breath, her fingers fidgeting nervously, picking at the delicate skin around her nails. It was a meager reassurance, a fragile thread of hope in the growing darkness, but it was all she would get for now.

"Thank you, Harebell Cookie," she murmured, her voice heavy with unspoken anxiety. She watched as Harebell offered a tight smile before mounting her broom. The lavender fabric of her dress billowed in the wind as she ascended.

"Be safe, Harebell!" Star Swirl called out, her voice echoing with a desperate urgency.

"You too, Star Swirl!" The distant reply drifted back, the words faint but carrying a sliver of warmth against the encroaching cold. Star Swirl watched until Harebell's form was a mere speck against the unsettlingly bright sky, the fragile comfort of their brief connection fading with the distance.

Taking one last look at Harebell’s retreating figure, she turns, her own starlit robes billowing the wind as the tendrils of dread gnaw at her mind, her body moving towards her parlor .

[ We just have to pray that everything will be okay.]

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

The air in Star Swirl Cookie’s pavilion, usually humming with a gentle celestial energy, suddenly fractured. It wasn't a sound, but a visceral severing, as if invisible cords binding her to something fundamental had snapped. A cold dread bloomed in her chest, a hollow ache where warmth had once resided.

Something has been lost. The thought wasn't a whisper, but a chilling pronouncement in the silent chambers of her soul. A sickening lurch twisted in her gut, her lungs constricted, as if an unseen hand had squeezed the very air from them. A piece of her essence, something intrinsically tied to the delicate balance of eternity, seemed to crumble and dissolve within her, its precious dust slipping through her immortal fingers.

What… happened? The question was a silent scream in the sudden void.

BAM!

The ornate doors to her pavilion exploded inward, splintering wood flying across the polished floor. A guard stumbled out, his face a mask of terror, streaks of viscous, bright red strawberry jam oozing down his charred armor. Flames, an unnatural, furious crimson, licked at the edges of his plating, casting grotesque shadows that danced with his panicked movements. The ethereal starry gauze draping the walls now bore sickening crimson stains, stark against its delicate shimmer. The guard collapsed at the threshold, his breath rattling.

“Your… lady…” he choked, blood bubbling at his lips. “The Virtue… of Change… he corrupted…”

Disbelief, sharp and cold, pierced through Star Swirl’s dawning horror. She rose as if pulled by invisible strings, her starlit eyes wide with incomprehension. She moved towards the fallen guard, her flowing robes whispering against the bloodied floor, and gently gathered him into her arms, her celestial magic instinctively reaching out, tendrils of starlight attempting to mend the horrific damage to his broken form.

“Don’t speak,” she commanded, her voice surprisingly steady despite the turmoil within. She gestured sharply to the remaining guards, their faces etched with fear. “Half of you secure the pavilion and protect any civilians. The other half – assess the situation outside! Now!”

With a desperate urgency, the remaining guards surged into action, their footsteps echoing the frantic beat of her own heart. Alarms, sharp and insistent, began to toll throughout the surrounding area, their mournful clangour creating a chaotic symphony of fear as cookies rushed in and out, their frantic movements a blur against the backdrop of encroaching chaos.

Her hands pressed against the guard’s ravaged chest, shimmering sparks of pure starlight weaving into the blackened, crispy edges of his burnt flesh. Her brow furrowed in fierce concentration, a silent plea etched on her face, dread and panic on her face

The horrifying truth, the reason for her and Harebell Cookie´s shared, creeping unease, was because the Virtue of Change, the very linchpin that filtered and maintained the delicate equilibrium of their reality, had fallen. Corrupted. And in its absence, there was no guiding hand, no internal compass to signal the catastrophic shift, leaving them adrift in a world subtly, devastatingly, unmoored. They were blind, stumbling towards an unknown abyss, the very foundations of their existence silently eroding beneath their feet.

What…? Why would he do this? 

In the end, I will never know. 

But I will try. I have to try to uphold eternity, even as it crumbles around me.

Her hands faltered, the immense weight of expectation, the unwavering belief of her people in her power, suddenly felt like an unbearable physical burden, pressing her down as surely as the lifeless weight in her arms. The guard beneath her chest stilled, his ragged breathing ceasing altogether.

A choked voice from behind her broke the horrifying silence. “Your lady… he’s gone.”

What? No…

Star Swirl Cookie looked down, her hands now slick with the guard’s bright red jam, a stark and horrifying contrast to the ethereal glow of her magic. His chest remained motionless, his once terrified eyes now fixed on the empty expanse of the ceiling.

When…? When did I stop trying? When did I fail him?

But the answers remained lost in the unfolding catastrophe. For in that moment, as the scent of smoke and fear filled the air, a terrifying certainty took root: from this day forward, the pillars of their world would begin to fall, one by one, and Star Swirl Cookie, the supposed guardian of eternity, would fall with them.

| ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦ |

[headknight-oh]

WIP Word Game

Rules: You get a word and share a sentence/excerpt from your WIP(s) that starts with each letter of your word.

Thanks for the tag @daincrediblegg! I have been given the word SHELTER, and I'm going to try to pull all of my excerpts from what I've been working on for the Library, but I have some stuff from the chapbook I've been working on too, so we'll see what I choose.

"So,” Finn continued, “Who do you think we’re gonna sacrifice to Terminus when we get there? My vote’s for Danny boy. I don’t like the cut of his jib.” “The hell are you on about?” Daryl asked. Finn’s rambling would have annoyed him in the past, and still did to some level, but it was comforting now, a reminder that he wasn’t as alone as he could be. And it was a good sign, a sign that Finn wasn’t mad at him. When Finn was mad, they brewed in heavy silence. “Terminus! The Roman god of boundaries. His protection demands blood, honey, and wine, Daryl. Anoint the boundary stone and give thanks as he surveys your land. Hell, it’s cold enough to be February. Happy terminalia!” Finn laughed, Nova joining in with happy husky grumbles.

He took the dog gently in his arms, taking care that her head didn’t bounce limply by tucking her snout under his chin. The cold canine nose felt wrong against his neck without the slobbery kisses and warm panting from the old dog. Daryl let out a long breath, calming himself as Finn stood behind him, using him as a crutch to get upright. Daryl set a slow pace, Finn grasping the hem of his shirt, eyes downcast in exhausted acceptance, trusting Daryl implicitly in their apathy.

Each layer feels almost ceremonial, reverent as I wrap myself in three blankets like sacramental shrouds. Like a nuns' habit or a druid's shawl. It feels right, something ingrained in my being that I forgot, like my bones remember doing this in my ancestral past. The cold of winter bites my nose and fingertips while warm smoke curls in my lungs, a constant, dynamic pull of thermodynamic equilibrium centered on my breath. It is a ritual in a way, sitting in silent solitude with mother winter, curled in around my core as she cools my skin. I listen to the icy howl or the frigid whisper of her voice, learning at her cosmic knee. She is the primordial frigidity into which warmth must be cultivated. My breath still fogs even after the smoke has left my lungs.

Let me kiss the base of your throat and tangle my teeth in your arteries, your lifeblood steadily pumping into me. Let me push the curve of my spine into yours, the scrape of bone on bone crescendoing until our spinal column clicks in place.  I am sorry that I metastasize inside you, love. I am sorry that I carve into you to find myself. I am sorry that you let me. Let me apologize, love, for my incursion. Let me kiss your blood-wetted flesh from the inside, hoping my tears will make us clean. Please know that I don’t try to kill you, love, and I hate that I do anyway. Please know that I love you, love, even as it feels excruciating to let me in. Please know that I’ll miss you, love, when you decide to expel me from the corpse I have made you.

They stared, pupils dilating and mouth agape as he sucked his fingers clean. Even after he finished shaking Patrick’s hand and their conversation was over, Finn stood there, staring. “What you want?” Daryl asked.  Finn shook their head. “Sorry. I’m ovulating.” Daryl choked a bit while Carol laughed.

Even so, they maintained that low humming, beginning to modulate the pitch into a minor melody. As they lay the dog in the tomb, their lips parted in a wavering, primordial grief. High, breathy cries were heaved out of their chest in haunting repetitive rhythms and scales. Notes ran together in single breaths, a raw wailing echoing off itself in the moonlit clearing. Daryl got the impression that he was witnessing something sacred, something eerie, ethereal, unbearable.

Rebuild me anew with your words and well wishes. I saponify, and I am made clean. Cleanse me as the lord of my new creation. Watch as I crumble, failing to sustain the me that you have built.

That was really fun! Imma tag @motherscarf @francisofthespook @blu-razz-roses with the word TREMBLE.

[limsjaebeom]

SPOILER: everything i never told you

finished everything i never told you and... wow.

tbh i really liked the book, in term of the story, character portrayal even with their flaws and everything.

but the highlight for me hand down was JACK.

"A drop of water trickled out of Nath’s hair, like a shy little mouse, and ran down the nape of his neck. It made its slow way between his shoulder blades, and where his back curved, it dropped straight down, as if it had jumped off a cliff, and splashed onto the back of Jack’s hand. Nath, facing away from Jack, didn’t see it, and neither did Lydia. Only Hannah, saw it fall. In her ears, it made a noise, like a cannon shot. And Jack himself jumped. He stared at the drop of water without moving, as if it were a rare insect that might fly away. Then, without looking at any of them, he raised his hand to his mouth and touched his tongue to it, as if it were honey.

It happened so quickly that if she were a different person, Hannah might have wondered if she’d imagined it. No one else saw. Nath was still turned away; Lydia had her eyes shut now against the sun. But the moment flashed lightning-bright to Hannah. Years of yearning had made her sensitive, the way a starving dog twitches its nostrils at the faintest scent of food. She could not mistake it. She recognized it at once: love, one-way deep adoration that bounced off and did not bounce back; careful, quiet love that didn’t care and went on anyway. It was too familiar to be surprising. Something deep inside her stretched out and curled around Jack like a shawl, but he didn’t notice."

these 2 paras changed my life.

like i know the book at the end indicates that they ended up together but i need a sequel on jack and nath. I NEED TO KNOW THEIR STORY. nath absolutely HATED jack throughout the book except for the last page. when he realized that jack wasn't involved in lydia's death.

like i have never read such a good portrayal of unrequited love. it changed me as a person. i want nothing but to know more.

[fanichus]

FANfic cap 5

Whit this position I started to remember that time when someone once tell me that Asha en I looked good together better than whit Demian... he rage, I don't know if because of the idea that I was with his brother or for another reason but my Devil almost broke the nose of that guy who happened to be my most hateful cousin I don't even remember how they stopped it but someone did

I was thinking about that when I heard a loud noise and then I felt the floor *Ouch*

*Why the hell are you touching her?* He looks upset wait, did he throw my vase or what was the noise?, Demian walked over to me and helped me up but in the process he pushed Asha and put me behind him as if he... wanted to... protect me?

*I don't know if you saw it brother but she was about to fall I just grabbed her so it wouldn't happen* It seemed that Demian wanted to hit him or rip his face off, Asha just was amused... not... scared?... not... the truth is that I don't know what his expression was but he wasn't apparently upset, I don't know what to do, how do I distract him?

Lucky for me the skeletons... I mean Colt and Roulette listened and managed to distract them

*Sorry for interrupting but we're gonna be late if this continues* Roulette speak so calmed, he turned to look at me and pointed towards the corridor, Colt took advantage of the moment and took Demian by the shoulder and they disappeared in the blink of an eye *I already put the boxes in a room so that you can change, miss* he smiled at me

I didn't realize that Demian and Colt wasn't even here, and Asha didn't point at that, he just smiled, hid the package behind him and told me that we would see each other later, that he also had a lot of work to do and did not want to take up any more time, I felt bad for him, he looks very tired and I suppose that this did not help him in the slightest, after saying goodbye Roulette guided me to the room he chose and said that I should start getting ready so we could leave also that if I needed help with anything I should call them

*Wait can you tell me if the place is elegant or not ?*

*It's pretty elegant, miss, believe me when you see what we brought you will see how elegant it will be* I thanks and I went inside

I took a deep breath and walked to the boxes, there were six boxes, I started to open a round box in which was a wig, one half was red and the other was black, and it was much longer than my hair. Then I continued with a small box, and I was surprised to see what were quite interesting pupils had a black and red design... I guess today I will wear those colors a lot. Then the other medium box had some heels but these were only black with what seems to be a string of pearls, the heel is wide and luckily they are not that high in fact they look very comfortable. Another of the boxes contained a set of pearl necklace and earrings. The fifth box had a fluffy white shawl, it looked very soft and elegant also inside were black velvet gloves that reached to the elbows. And last and most important, the biggest and last box was the dress, like everything else, it was black and red, the corset was black velvet with a sweetheart neckline, and straps decorated with a bit of white lace, the skirt was also velvet but red bean simple, which reached the floor but with the shoes I think it should fit me well. I took everything and started to fix myself.

I can't believe how different I look with all this on I look sexy I admit it the dress fits perfectly to all my curves the wig feels wear after so much I admit that I missed wearing one, what it cost me was putting on the pupils I really don't know how I did it but I managed to put them on, then I put on makeup professionally according to me but something told me that it was too much, I painted my lips a matte red that looked similar to the one on the skirt, a bit of mascara for my eyelashes, glitter on my eyes and a black eyeliner and I was ready. I felt very... elegant and sexy, I don't think I get tired of saying it to myself. I think it should come out already if it won't be done later

I returned to the others and they all turned to see me *Well, how do I look?*

The next will be in the restaurante I think so , I hope I am writing them correctly @battlemaiden13 here is your next chapter seriously you inspire me a lot.

[echoedcrosshairs]

The Portrait ~ Boba x F Reader

Plot: You, a daughter of a former bounty captured by Boba Fett, are asked to paint a portrait of the new Daimyo although you despise him you can't help notice the growing tension. 🖤Enemies to Lovers 🖤

Warnings: second person narration, no y/n, suggestive sexual content, age gap (reader is mid-twenties, Boba is 41 canonically), lots of petnames (Little one & Old Man), praise kink, one dude being a creep but nothing bad happens; protective Boba moment~> violence, Enemies to lover & sort of slow burn and eventual smut. This is a build up chapter.

Word Count: 6.7k

Masterlist Part Two

🔞no minors allowed🔞

Yes I know I need to go through all of my stories because small typos.

Boba sat in a darkest corner booth of the cantina waiting for his prospect to arrive but something was bugging him about her name it sounded familiar but he couldn’t place where he’d heard it. He had arrived early to avoid being noticed by the crowds who came in during rush hour as Daimyo every knew his face and who he was but he wasn’t in the mood to be bowed at. He had his shawl covering his armor and his helmet tucked in beside him, knowing it’s shine would make him stand out. He brought his drink to his lips letting his eyes wandered to one of the dancers, although she was gorgeous but not gorgeous enough to distracted him with her curves and elegance to notice the prospect walking over. He blinked admiring the features in your face and the way your hips swayed as you walked towards him. He knew the confidence of female hunter when he saw it, alluring yet on the prowl. He let his eyes travel along the entire noting all of the empty concealed pockets.

"Do you two need a minute?" you laughed sitting down looking between him and the dancer, "I would hate to come between a hunter and his prey. She is rather pretty"

"I admire. Nothing more," he said curtly not liking the fact you noticed what he tried to hide, "I am retired," he added, “and to old to be chasing such beautiful creatures.”

"Once a hunter always a hunter. All you traded was one type of bounty for another just with less stakes but that's semantics," you said dismissing it.

Boba studied you carefully curious to what would compel you to so bold and brazen with him, "I take it you are not found of how I run this town?" he asked simply not letting any emotion or interest pace his course rough.

"No your rule is not one with an iron fist nor disappearing villagers in the dead of night or making examples out of petty things. I just do not care for you," you said pulling out your dust covered sketch book flipping the page of him taking away your father and your father's imprisonment in stone, "Getting to the subject. All supplies must be paid for up front, the entire can change once I started however you’re still wearing the same thing so I don’t think that matters and point me in the direction of the nearest lodging. I can begin as soon as the supplies arrive," you said closing the sketch book and returning it to your bag. Your eyes caught swift movement of hands of the person bringing both of you drinks, quickly pulling out the blaster out of your art bag dispatching one fatal shot you caught the tray with the drinks and dumped them both into a flower vase watching them quickly wilt. That’s what I thought, I need this try again later. You sat back down putting the blaster away, "What?" said noticing him staring at you.

"You loathe me yet saved my life, interesting" he said studying the expression on your face, "with such tenacity and efficiency."

"I may have talents outside of painting. I would hate to lose such an important commission before it was complete."

"Indeed," he said finally blinking looking at the corpse being dragged away, "stay at the palace, plenty of food and rooms to choose from," he offered.

"I'll take whatever room is furtherest from you," you grinned pulled the pad with the out the list of supplies and upgrades handing it to him. His leather glove brushing against your hand taking it, it sent a cold shiver up your arm like you just touch death.

"Consider it yours, I'll send someone to pick up all of these premiums," he said in attempt to ignore the fact brushing up against your finger set a jolt of something down him. Fear? Anticipation? She's a daughter of a former bounty and I just invited danger into my house. He stuck out the pad, Fennec taking it from whatever spot she was hiding.

"I should have most of these by sunrise, one or two might take a few extra hours," she said nodding walking off with the pad.

"I know my way to the palace," you said standing up eyeing the women he was looking at earlier, "Enjoy yourself for a change," you let out a small harsh laugh, "Try not to get killed until the commission is completed."

You walked away pretending not to be in a hurry about your heart was racing and your hands were clammy just being around him. He was a dangerous man with a temper for disintegration and being ruthless with how audacious and brash you were talking to him wondered if he had the mind to disintegrate you. What was I thinking? He's a client at this moment, nothing more. Your mind wandered back to that night when he took your father and showed him off to you in carbonite. Your fist balled but you kept walking, you had half the mind just to get off this sand ball but the other half wanted the money and the recognition for something other than the fine marksman the ire had turn you into too. Now he was an aging man, ‘retired’ and you didn't know if it would be worth it if he wasn’t in the game. Yet the muscles in his arms and the coldness in his face suggested he was still ever bit the predator... one who had a disgustingly charming gravel voice and it set a shiver down your spine.

"Are you sure this isn't a conflict of interest, little one?" You heard Boba's voice emerge next to you.

"Being in the same persec as you is a conflict of interest but this is business as you well understand," you couldn't help but notice the annoyance seeping out over his company, although the sound of his voice was better then silence. You didn't bother look at him as you kept walking, "Also don't call me that, I'm not little nor a child," you added.

"Why take the commission?" He asked finally letting his curiosity get the best of him.

"It's you I have to thank for my talents whether it's through a paintbrush or a blaster." you said harshly still not bothering to look at him.

"You could just take the money and go-"

"We both know there's no honor in that, although I don’t think I would ever consider you honorable," your tempter starting getting the best of you, you finally stopped and stared at the T visor helmet forever engrained into your memory, "I am here because I have to prove to myself you are nothing then a man to not some assassin droid in the shadows without a thought or care."

You watched him stand still for a moment before putting his hands clasp behind his back, "You speak your mind without thought of the repercussions or hesitation, I respect that," he said starting to walk again, "I even admire it."

Your lip twitched but you followed after him in silence. You kept nonchalantly wiping your hands on your pants, feeling like an angry fool living in the past but you liked the praise from him sending goose bumps down you.!What the hell is wrong with me? It was a silent trek to the palace after that, thankful you didn't continue making a fool of yourself publicly speaking to him like that in view of those still up at this hour. The doors of the palace swung up, you walked in not bothering to wait for an invitation which was custom on Tatooine.

"Still want the furthest room or do you want to face that fear too," you could hear the smirk in his voice.

"Just point me to an available room and show me the location."

Boba lead you to a long hall way more adorned with fineries then the others. He pointed to the door on the left, "Yours," he pointed to the door on the right, "Mine. This way," he said turning back heading towards the throne room.

You scowled following after him realizing where he was taking you, "Of course it's the throne, how pretentious," you mumbled sarcastically taking out the sketch pad.

"Do you have a better idea?" Boba said stopping mid step turning to you, "you are the artist after all, where would you choose in my position."

"Each previous Daimyo has had his done on the throne using it as display of power and fear. If I wanted to prove my rule was different, I would do mine somewhere to show who I am underneath."

He nodded, "Have you ever seen the Tusken huts?"

You were taken back by the question, "Not up close, no."

"Wish to take the Rancor for a run or a speeder?" he asked.

"Rancor," you said stepping up to his obvious challenge to test your nerves further, "It's been a while since I've been on one."

"Let's see if he's awake. So you've ridden one before?" He asked calmly but intrigued.

"Once or twice," you said opting to give the least amount of information knowing he was digging.

Boba smiled knowing it could not be seen, "The riding boots your wearing covered with your pants suggest other wise," he said done playing coy that he didn't notice the little things, "one of your many talents I assume?"

"Perhaps," you trying to keep the irritation out of your voice glancing down at your foot wear that you didn't bother to change when you were done, "or perhaps I wear them because their comfortable and made to take a beating. Perfect for function, comfort and a sleek appearance."

"I'm sure they are, little one," he chuckled watching your face force smoothness on it. He couldn't deny he was interested in you in more ways then one, you were beautiful, complexed and smart but perhaps just as dangerous and unpredictable as he was at that age regretting putting your room so close to his if you had the urge in the dead of the night to unleash vengeance upon him, "How about a bargain?" he asked.

"What are you proposing?" you asked crossing your arms following him into the throne room looking down into the pit.

"Every day you get to ask me one personal question until the portrait is completed."

"What do you get out of it?" You asked because it sounded like you were getting the better end of the deal.

"Hopefully not feed to my rancor in the middle of the night," he said with laugh, the sound made you blink. It was warm and kind, rough like his voice but it reminded you of a shot of whiskey after a long day. He watched your face falter for a second after his laughter, raising an eyebrow.

"Did you enjoy rubbing my fathers fate in my face?" You said boldly, looking down at the sleeping rancor.

"No however I hoped it would prevent you from going down the same path."

"What path would that be?" You asked tartly looking back up at him feeling his eyes linger on you.

"One without the need to follow in his shoes"

You studied him as he studied you, "Funny," you mused.

"Indeed," Boba said realizing it was what set you on this path. He lightly tapping the bars to see if the Rancor would wake but it's soft snores he was out for the evening, "A speeder it is."

"Did you ever find him?" He ask heading towards the main doors.

"What was left of him to find."

"I'm sorry."

Those two words hit a nerve but also shocked you. Your mouth fell agape but you shut it not knowing what to say to the statement, the man who turned your life on it's head... apologizing? You followed him outside to the one speeder realizing you were going to have to share. You wandered if you both were thinking the same thing, how easy it would be to toss each other off.

"I'll ride in the front," he said giving you the upper hand waiting to see what you would do.

"I'm personally holding you accountable if I get hurt due to your driving, old man," you jested trying to hide the anxiousness of climbing on behind him having to hold his waist.

"Then you better hold on, little one. I'm not that old."

"Are you sure about-" you shut your mouth holding him tighter as he took off full speed towards the Dune Sea. You felt the chiseled muscle under his clothing, red subconsciously warmth spreading across your face. It made you sick that you had a reaction to him, the lingering smell of leather, blaster smoke and sweat didn't help. You tighten your jaw reminding yourself of the monster you were clinging too as he enjoyed riding the waves of the sand.

"Having fun?" He chuckled feeling your cheek burning into his back and your arms tighten around him as he took another bigger sand dune. It took a lot of self restraint not to move his hand to yours and tease you but knew you’d probably shoot him if he did.

"Extremely," you said sarcastically thanking the maker when he stopped so you could let go and hop off.

Boba watched you quickly take out your pad to engulfed in your work to notice the approaching Tusken's. The Tusken's recognized him, signing his name. He nodded to them in greeting and preceded to explain why they were out this late, that he would send them food as payment for the disturbance.

"They want to see," Boba said pointing at them.

His voice pulled you out of the composition of art to notice the raiders standing next to him. You gulped, you were not fan of the Tusken's for their violent nature towards outsiders and it didn’t help that the Daimyo was very comfortable around them. You carefully walked towards them showing them the sketch of the hut. They made a noise and you looked to Boba raising an eyebrow.

"Their impressed."

"Thank you," you said nodding your head, they handed you the pad back allowing you to walk back to the spot and continued your art.

"Tribe?" the Tusken signed looking between the two of you

"No, Business."

The Tusken nodded signal for him and his companions to leave. Boba walked over looking of your shoulder watching the hunt come together with the rough sketch of the Tusken in the foreground.

"Done?" He asked watching you look at the pad then up then back down.

"Yes."

"Let's get back to the palace, it's getting late and creatures should be waking up," he said climbing back into the speeder feeing your arms go around his waist again but this time he didn't feel your hands as sweaty against him.

When you both arrived at the palace, Fennec was waiting different sizes canvas. Boba picked a medium sized one, modest yet large enough to be noticed. Fennec kept her eyes on you the whole time.

"Do you want me to have guards outside?" she whispered wondering if you could be trusted.

"Just one discreetly at the top of the hall if it put your mind at ease."

She gave a small nod, "What you think of her?" she asked quietly watching you pull out your sketch pad looking over your work.

Boba just slightly turned his head not to make it obvious, "One of a kind."

Fennec rolled her eyes, "Friend or foe?" she corrected.

"Both," he admitted, "Good Night," he said to Fennec raising his voice back up from a whisper.

You cocked your head to see him heading back inside, you followed after him sketching out a simple speedy portrait of his face. You caught up to him and knocked on his helmet, he turned catching your wrist pulling it away.

"Helmet off," you said pulling your wrist back.

"So bossy, little one."

"So deaf, take it off old man," you said bringing your pencil back to the pad waiting,

He took it off, you examined the lines in his face quickly sketching them out. You were to distracted with the lines to notice his brown eyes boring into you. You were raptured in artist inspiration staring at him, your hands moving seamlessly across the paper noting every healed scar and various shades of brown to gold in his eyes. You finally looked down red creeping back into your face as you sketched his shoulders and the top of his armor.

He looked down at the paper stunned, "May I?" he asked holding out his hand. You stared at what was probably your best rough sketch but handed it to him. "It's absolutely marvelous," he said examining it closing looking at ever scar and remembering the cause to each one, "Your marvelous," he unintentionally whispered.

"I know," you said grabbing the sketch back and walking towards the hall with the bedrooms, flushed and angry. You noticed the bags that you tucked away at the Cantina you were going to go back to retrieve were sitting the end of the bed waiting. You groaned tossing your art bag on the bed and setting the pad on a big wooden ornate vanity. You unpacked the essential clothing you needed and various toiletries. Your head was swimming and knew you couldn't sleep, you grabbed your toilets stepping into the hall. Your face flicked up when you heard footsteps, a single guard walking a catwalk above.

"Where's the bathroom?" You asked watching him walk to the end of the hall and point at a door. He spoke a language you didn't understand, "Thank you! I think,” you called.

You opened the door, staring at Boba in a towel around his waist water still trickling down his pecs and abs. You quickly pulled the door shut, "That didn't just happen."

Your hand quickly shot up to your eyes when you heard the door immediately open "I'm sorry he doesn't speak basic," you said trying to defend yourself.

"Unfortunately it did. Dank Farrik! Next time I'm going to shoot you in the knee cap! I could have still been in the crinking shower!" He called up the guard who was laughing suddenly stilled. He noticed your hand over your eyes, "I'm not that bad to look at," he laughed, "I was just leaving," he said stepping around you, "I'll have them come in and fix the other one tomorrow promptly."

You uncovered your eyes for a moment watching his muscular back as he headed towards his room before quickly getting into the bathroom and shutting the door realizing there wasn't a lock on it. I seriously can't believe that happened. You turned the water up to match how hot your face was. You discarded your clothing, neatly putting them on the what looked to be hand carved precious stone counter. You ran your hand across it, still cool. Maker that had to cost which ever Daimyo a fortune. You shook your head and stepped into the shower hoping the heat would wash away the embarrassment. After spending a fair amount of time scolding yourself clearing your head you stepped out and noticed a couple of credits with a note on your clothing.

"It didn't happen -Fett."

You stared at the forty thousand credits your mouth fell open. I need the money but no way I can accept this much, I'll just slip part of it into his room or something. You quickly got dressed and peaked your head out the door to see if he was there, you breathed out in relief. You groaned the moment you got to your room noticing the small fruit assortment on your bed. I don't know if I'm more embarrassed or he is. You moved the fruit to the vanity and crawled into bed, you laid awake into the night before finally prying yourself up deciding fresh air might help you get situated with your temporary reality. You tucked your blaster in your waist band and found your way to a balcony overlooking the city.

"You too?" you heard Boba's voice behind you.

"Yeah. Are any of the cantinas still open this late?"

"One, you want to go?" he asked.

"I need a drink... or five if I'm going to be sleeping in the room across from you," you admitted.

"Likewise."

Both of you quietly walked into your rooms and changed. You dawned a form fitting dress with a side holster and boots with hidden knife pockets. You opened the door and found him waiting with holding his helmet.

He did his best to keep a straight face over the entire, "Expecting company?" He said pointy looking at the blaster as an excuse to look at your figure before looking back up at you.

"Always except the unexpected, that's how you stay alive in this line a work," you said as you started walking.

"Which is our problem," he said following after you.

"Another bargain perhaps?"

"You don't trust me and I don't trust you, I could simply move into lodging like I wanted too or we could drag the other bed into the others room so we can at least hear it coming," your throat dried up, “because I can’t think of a reason why I would want to trust you. You can only out run your past so long before it catches up.”

"What ever your comfort with, little one-" Boba stopped looking at your dress and then speedier.

"Dank Farrik," you mumbled motioning him to get on, hiking up your dress an indecent amount throwing your leg over it, "Why can't they just make flattering dresses with pants?" mumbled uncomfortably exposed to him.

"You now have plenty enough to get some tailored to your design," he suggested.

"I can't accept all of them for something so little, not even for this predicament," you said, "Got a problem or something that my skills can be used for?"

"I'm sure I can think of something."

He let you get off the speeder first to adjust your dress before getting off himself. You both kept each other arms lengths apart. Heat rose to your face thinking about how close his back had been between your legs. You did not and would not like this man. Eyes on the prize, finish this commission and get the creds then get hell away from this monster. No Boba Fett is a man, this commission is to prove that. He's not the boogie man, at least not any more.

He opened a door letting you go in first, the cantina nearly empty except for a few stragglers. He watched them eye you then back at him with a nod of respect. You walked up to the bar hoping he wasn't going to follow you. You noticed him hovering the door and you smirked.

You slide in the stool seat, "Whiskey, double," you told the bar droid, who dropped a shot glass in front of you and poured it. You slammed it back and tapped for another.

"I'd hate to see you on a bad day," Boba laughed joining her after eyeing everyone again to see if any one was going to make a move. Given most of the men in here were older then him he was pretty confident that no one going to given she also came in here with the Daimyo.

"This?" You said lifting the third shot, "is barely the appetizer for today."

"The same, sir?" The droid asked him.

"Yes."

Both of you sat in silence, while Boba caught up on the shots. He watched you down a couple more, the tipsiness finally started to show. The warm glow of alcohol spread across your face, wondering if you always looked just as a beautiful regardless.

"Might want to slow down, little one," he said eyeing her twitch trying to focus, "You don't look like it would be a fair fight." He watched her pull out a blaster and bull-eye a painting on the wall. He tossed some credits to the droid as an apology, "How did you get so good?" He asked wondering if the circumstances were different he if he could convince you to stay.

"Practicing praying one day I would get a chance to kill you and everyone else associated with my father," you admitted, "I looked for you in every shadow praying and our paths would cross.. then you fell into the Sarlacc a few orbitals ago. I realized if I could not kill you... I could kill the idea of you and prove you don't have to have Fett running in your veins to be good." You felt the few horrified gawking stares at the disrespect and contempt laced words coming out of your mouth. The whiskey had loosened your lips a little further then you intended, "That that counts as your one personal question of the day."

"I do also get one personal question?" He asked taking his last shot knowing he was going to have to drive both of you back.

"It's only fair," you said sliding the shot glass back to the droid, "done." You said cutting yourself off knowing your mouth was only going to get worse. "I may have had to many." You admitted.

You stared into Boba's eyes, counting the shades but the slight double vision made it difficult, "five or six" you muttered pulling your eyes away, "color shades in your eyes. Can't tell right now."

"You're drunk," he laughed, "let's go home, little one."

"Stop calling me that, old man."

Boba scooped you up and put you over his arm like a nap sack, "That's enough out of you." He tried setting you down realizing you were asleep. He carefully set you in his lap holding you with a vice grip as he drove one handed back to the palace. He saw Fennec doing her patrol and shook his head carrying you inside and setting you on his bed. He looked at you debating if he wanted to have Fennec come in and change you but doubted she'd be there right when you woke up to explain. He carefully pulled off the blaster and set it besides you. He grabbed a bantha hide and curled up on his armoire couch, looking at you more time wondering the type of person you were under all of that hurt.

You felt the sun shining in your eyes, Wait my room is opposite of the sun, you took in your surroundings the various artwork on the walls and target practice posters. Fett’s room? You looked over and saw the closet still open with several flight suits. Your head was pounding but you got up feeling for your blaster finding it laying next to you. At least I’m still in my dress. You scurried back to your room munching down some of the fruit arrangement and black melon which helped. You opted for pants discarding all of the dresses back into your bags, Never again. You tapped on the refresher door when there was no reply you opened the door and quickly did your business. Leaving the refresher you found Fennec standing outside your bedroom door.

“Good morning,” you offered opening the door letting her in.

“All of the supplies are in a work room for you, along with food, one hall over with the blue door.”

“Thank you,” you said still trying to dry your hair, “You guys wouldn’t happen to have a shooting range or something?” You asked noticing the rifle slung on her back.

“Two halls over down the stairs behind the orange door.”

“Thank you again,” you said putting the towel around your shoulders.

“Anything else?” she asked.

“No. I don’t know why either of you would need me for anything but if I’m not in this room or the work room, you’ll probably find me in the range.”

She nodded quietly backing out of the room, Friend or Foe? rung through her head. The exchange had been minimal but she didn’t see a gundark waiting to strike which alarmed her further. I’m a good judge of character, but I still can’t answer that question.

Fennec found Boba sitting on the throne, “How was your patrol?”

“A couple hooligans needed a stern talking too, that’s all.”

“She’s awake. She’s been informed the supplies have arrived and where her work room is, inquiring if we hand a range and I told her where to find it.”

“Good.”

“Is something on your mind Boba?” Fennec said noticing the short answers.

“Thinking about something she said. Wondering if my past has caught to me and if this is my undoing.”

“I can get more guards-”

“That won’t stop someone on our level. She no longer seems to want revenge, old man,” he said shaking his head “I want to know what she really wants with the commission.”

“Have you tried asking?” she suggested half heartedly.

“No but that would be my personal question of the day,” he muttered getting up to head to the work room, “summon me when our guest arrive.”

Fennec arched an eyebrow but nodded. You had various sketch pads out using them to sketch quick ideas how the portrait should look using various compositions with shadow and foreground and background ideas along with one or two the rancor was in too.

“Come see what you think” you asked hearing the door open, you looked back to see you were correct that it was him.

“That one.”

“Consider it yours.” You smirked throwing the sentence back at him, tearing the other ones out and set them to the side to dispose of later, “Is there something I can help you with?” you noticing him not leaving.

“What do you have so much riding on this commission?” He asked.

“Pride.”

“That isn’t much an answer.”

“Does it count as your personal question of the day?”

“No.”

“Than that’s the answer you’re going to have to live with,” you said eying him taking a seat.

You don’t know how long it had been until Fennec stuck her head in, “Daiymo, they have arrived.”

Boba excused himself to leave you to your art. The next few days where like that. Quiet. Every day his chair got a little closer until he was sitting next to you. Time to time he would stop to ask you questions about art, your favorite things to draw and other various things about you biding time for you to ask him question. It was a nice little routine as much as you despised him it became to comfortable. You eventually took to sleeping during day and working on the piece during the night as an excuse not to have to see him. You missed the company but every morning Fennec joined you at the range. It was small talk mostly but it helped dull the loneliness. Fennec left earlier this morning to go take care of an errand, leaving you alone in this big palace. Given some of the guards didn’t speak beside your only reprieve was the animal in the pit. You found your way to the Rancor kneeling before it, offering it a large slab of meat staying in routine of the past couple days. You smiled as the Rancor finally accepted your status as below him.

“Where is she? She’s not in her room or painting,” you heard Boba say concerned, stifling your laughter.

“She hasn’t left the palace-” Fennec said looking down hearing you.

“Someone’s losing their touch, old man. You know I ride yet you didn’t look down?” You huffed disappointment, finally getting to scratch the Rancor’s cheek, “I don’t recommend putting leash on me however, I bite.”

“I can’t even pet him,” Fennec said staring, “and I live here,” she muttered.

“Rancor respond to a social hierarchy and as I have no interest in staying, I made sure he knew he was the boss of me. Unlike me, Fennec you scream predator which is why he doesn’t respond to you. You have to be both hunter and prey,” you said standing up and wiping the dirt off your butt, “being a one sided blade only gets you so far, it’s those who are two that survive.”

Boba looked at you noticing how seamless the Mandalorian philosophy rolled off your tongue with such an easy explanation. Boba eyes trailed after you pinning. He was use to every woman throwing themselves at him having his selection of whatever fascinated him that evening. Even as Daimyo women fanned over his power and wealth having to let down several mothers trying to sell off their daughters to him.

“Well, I got my painting in for the evening so I had to wait for that to dry. I’m going to go the Cantina before going to bed,” you stared at the paint you missed on your foreheads and elbows, “after I apparently shower. Again,” you groaned walking off grumbling about paint and how it always ends up in weird places.

“You like her don’t you?” Fennec asked smiling watching his eyes trail after her, “Old man,” she said wiggling her eyebrows, “You’ve killed people for less.”

“She… reminds me of another time. I think I’ll accompany her discreetly. No need to follow.”

You shower daring to wear a flowing dresses with two discreet slide slits that overlapped to hide the thigh holsters, “At least I can ride a speeder in this.” You found Boba standing outside the door waiting. His molten gazing temporarily holding you in place, “I figured I’d give you a ride.”

“I am quite capable of getting there on my own,” you said inserting your independence staring back at him.

“You are… quiet the capable woman,” he said noting the heighten chemistry today, “but I need the speeder today.”

You looked at this features feeling sick about how in depth you studied every scar, crease, shape of his nose and the depths of his skin, “Fine, let’s go,” you said looking away first, “but I’m driving, can’t risk crashing in this dress,” you said doing the best to ignore the tension that has been slowly building since you met him and the playful banter he allowed you to get away with. Just awhile longer.

He waved his arm forward, “Lead the way.”

“You haven’t asked your question today,” you asked glancing him.

“I’m sure it will come to me before you go to bed. You haven’t either.”

“I’ll let you know when I have one,” you said tossing your legs over the speeder realizing this was the worse idea you ever had but you didn’t want to have to explain changing your mind. You felt him climb on, you took a quick silent intake of air when you felt his cod piece nuzzled up to your ass. He gently wrapped his arms around you placing each hand on your hip. You bit your lip and turned on the speeder taking it near full speed to the bustling cantina. Boba was like the sun of Tatooine pressing against your back and his gloves pressing you where felt like heaven wishing you could take them for your self. Getting off the speedier for a split second you could feel the cod piece rub against your ass. I need some company because that isn’t happening.

“Take this,” he said tossing you a device, “Call me when your ready to get picked up,” although I don’t intend to let you be here alone. Boba took the speeder around giving it the appearance that he left before letting himself inside through the side door. His eyes spotting you at the counter with a shot in hand. You took himself to an empty booth a distance away tucking away his helmet and covering his armor to blend in. The droid brought him over a drink when he saw a man slide into the stool next to you. Boba blinked because the man was about his age. Anger starting boiling over when he saw him put hand on your leg watching you light up and smile at him.

“What is a goddess like you doing in a temple like this at this hour?” the man asked.

You smiled at the comment, “Hopefully enjoying some company for a bit,” you dared, watching him put his hand on your leg.

“I don’t mind keeping you company,” he said ordering to drinks.

He’s no Boba Fett, but he’s still cute to look at. You mentally scolded yourself for thinking such thing. Both of you chatted the conversation coming easy, there was no playing coy or calculated responses it made you miss having company because Fennec and Boba weren’t quiet conversationalist. You felt eyes at the back of your neck, you scowled for a second realizing it was probably Fennec keeping an eye on you or someone under here.

“What is it?” He asked concerned.

“Oh it’s nothing, I lost my train of thought.”

Boba watched every action his jaw setting tighter and tighter. He watched as the man leaned in kissed her. Boba’s gripping on the shot glass caused it to break. Your head turned again and you saw broken glass but not the person sitting in the shadows. Just a coincidence. Right as you started to lean back in you saw him pulling his hand away from your drink and a whipcord shoot out dragging him to the dark booth.

“Bantha Fodder,” you heard the growl from a familiar gravel sounding man, watching him step out in the shadows.

“Caraya’s Soul Fett! For kriff’s sake,” your blood ran cold for a moment staring at the helmet the man wired on the ground before taking out the blaster and shooting the man, “I get it he was going to drug me, but did you really have to stalk me? I could have handled it on my way,” you said putting the blaster away and getting in his face. You stuck your finger on his chest and gave him a small push, “I don’t need to be babysat let alone by you of all people.”

Boba looked down shot him again watching him disintegrate into dust, “You were saying?”

“I guess we’re even now,” you huffed pulling your finger off him watching retract the wire and putting his arms in front him. “I’m going to a different cantina, this time don’t follow me.”

You tossed a couple creds down on the table and leaving hearing his foot steps behind you and the heat from his gaze boring into the back of your back. You whirled around to find him standing there with his hands still in front him.

“I said don’t follow me,” you watched him talk a few steps towards you standing face to face, face to helmet.

“I am the Daimyo, I go where I want.”

“That is exactly why I don’t want you here! No one will talk to me or even look at me when your around. You know what it’s like to sit in silence alone for hours! I hate it.”

“Why don’t you talk to me?” he taking off his helmet, stepping forward pinning you in place with his gaze.

You saw the dilation in his eyes and his uneven breathing, “That’s why.” Feeling heat rush through you and your legs stared feeling like jello under his gaze. You could felt the heat go to your head, your mind emptying but conflicted if you want to kiss him or kiss him your knuckles. You knew your eyes had the same hazy expression thinking about when you found him in the towel, the water and muscle. You weakly stepped back ripping your eyes off of him, dizzily turning around trying to your legs under you. “This is business,” you said finally getting them moving, “Get a concubine or something,” you snipped, “isn’t that what Daimyo’s do.”

“I don’t want one” you heard him whisper.

“I don’t want you too either,” you gritted out not hearing foot steps behind you.

[z-iridest]

Detective Charming

A Goro Akechi x female! reader one shot

This.... Was not supposed to happen.

You were supposed to meet with your Valentine's Day date at the Jazz Club in Kichijoji and have a lovely evening, but noooooo. Instead, you were sitting heartbroken as you looked at the text message on your phone. Your so called "date" had used you to get his ex back after months of telling you that he loved you, and had ridiculed you over text for being gullible enough to fall for the trick. You should have known... You locked your phone with a click of the power button and set it down, waving over one of the wait staff to order your usual. Hours of preparation to look good for him and then more time waiting for him to arrive only for it to be wasted... If the Jazz Club wasn't your go to spot, you would have left minutes ago after you'd received the text. The pitied stares are already getting old, but the jazz music was what was making you stay. It was the only thing keeping you from the verge of an emotional break down. You'd thought he would have liked what you chose to wear...

It was a red sundress that accentuated your curves beautifully, with a red shawl wrapped around your shoulders to match. Your h/c hair was elegantly styled with a headband of white crystals keeping it out of your face. Even your nails were painted scarlet red... Your makeup was light, but done to make your e/c eyes pop and your cheeks tinted just a bit brighter than usual. You hated heels, yet, on your feet were red heels to match the dress you were wearing. On your lips was a neutral lipstick, and while it didn't bring much attention to your lips, it did go perfectly with the rest of the makeup. All in all, when you'd left, you thought you looked beautiful. But now...

"Forgive my intrusion, my lady, but why does a princess such as yourself carry such a look of despair?" You knew that soft toned, tenor voice anywhere. When you looked up, there was Goro Akechi, the teen detective himself. Not only was he famous in all of Japan, but was the most popular boy at your school. He was wearing his usual tan peacoat with black buttons, striped black and white tie, black pants, black gloves and black loafers. His brown hair was shaggy as usual, and his crimson eyes seemed worried as they scanned over your face.

"Akechi-kun, what a surprise." You greeted the young detective with the same cheery demeanor you always had around him, but you never could hide your emotions from him. Before you could ask him what brought him to the little jazz club, he reached out to wipe a tear from your face, silencing all words about to come out. You hadn't even realized you were crying.

"Y/N-chan, may I join you?" Akechi asked. You knew that look. He looked determined to find out what happened, and you knew how stubborn he was. Even if you rejected his request to join you now, you knew he'd confront you at school. You just nodded, Akechi seeming relieved as he took a seat next to you. "Y/N-chan, what's wrong?" He spoke after a moment of silence, voicing the question on his mind.

"Oh, it's nothing to worry about, just something stupid..."

"Y/N." He dropped the honorifics, his tone turning serious. You'd never heard him this way before... "Someone has made you cry, clearly it's something to worry about and nothing stupid. I could easily go out there and get to the bottom of this myself, but I'd rather hear what happened from you. Now, please, tell me what happened." You sighed, looking at your hands in your lap. Did you really have a choice? You then recounted the events that led to this moment. If you had looked up even once, you would have seen the disbelief and rage on Akechi's face. How dare that pitiful jerk hurt you?! Just as you were telling him about the text your ex date had sent though, you started crying and couldn't finish. Alarmed by your sobs, Akechi's rage fizzled into worry and concern. Without thinking again, he wrapped his arms around you, attempting to comfort you in his embrace. "Oh, Y/N-chan, I'm so sorry. But, you know," He pulled away from you, only enough to look at your face. "A pig like that isn't worth the tears of a princess such as yourself." He wiped away your tears. "If you ask me, that fool doesn't know what he's missing. You're beautiful, inside and out. You always go above and beyond for others, always wearing your heart on your sleeve and thinking of yourself last. If everyone else is a dark shroud, you're the light that shines brightly. Your radiance is regal of royalty, no... Actually, you're a goddess." He was rambling and getting redder by the minute. He realized what was tumbling from his mouth, but somehow, he couldn't stop it. Your sorrow turned into shock and giggles as you watched the young ace detective be flustered and rambling in front of you. Your giggles cut off his rambling and a smile, his first real smile in many many years, graced his face as he saw that your tears had turned to laughter. Even if it was at his expense, he loved that you were now happy.

"If I'm a goddess, I believe that'd make you the god ruling beside me, now wouldn't it?" If it were humanly possible to get any redder, Akechi broke that record with your words.

"W-Well... Well, I wouldn't say that I'm a god, I'm a mere worm compared to you, but I..." He fell silent before getting even more bashful. "I-If-If it please you, my goddess, will you allow me to b-be your escort for at least this evening?" He asked.

"What about your work?" You asked.

"I actually just finished up a case. I guess you could say today is a rare day off, and if I may spend it with you, I will show you just how a goddess like yourself is to be treated." He answered.

"Goro Akechi, are you asking me out?" You inquired, Akechi turning bright red.

"O-Only if my lady desires it..." He told you, looking away as you giggled.

"I'd love to." You watched as his crimson eyes turned back to you, examining you in shock for a moment before a big smile broke onto his face. Without warning, he scooped up your hand into yours and kisses the back of it.

"It would be my pleasure... My goddess."

This wasn't supposed to happen... But, you couldn't say you hated it...

(for @vivinightingale, hopefully this cheered you up and Happy Valentine's Day 🥺)

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Those who weave (New Series Snippet)

So, I’m starting a new series! I’m not dropping Nostalgia of course, and that series is still my priority so this one won’t have scheduled updates, but I’m having a really tough time writing (in general, and for Nostalgia in specific) so I decided to start posting this one.

It is a Reincarnation fic, basically, with some curse elements. Of course, an AU, takes place mainly in the Viking era, late Middle Ages, and modern times.

It is an Ivar/Reader fic, but it does have a lot of Freydis in it, because...it’s me, of course it has Freydis on it. I am trying a new side of her on this one tho!

A few things about this story:

It is a Reader-insert, and though I do have a faceclaim for her (Turkish actress Özge Törer) it is for graphic thingies, no descriptions in the story. However, it isn’t very inclusive, since in some of their lives her and Freydis are half sisters. I’m sorry for that.

It will be divided into three acts/lives: Sight, Love, and Time.

It is a fucking mess. I have to leave behind very important themes of the canon story, like the aspect of Valhalla, and Ivar’s ambitions of fame, and many other things, because they simply don’t fit as conflicts or themes with a multiple-lives dynamic. But I have fun writing this, and I hope you will have fun reading it.

So yeah, I really don’t know how to make these announcement thingies, but I wanted to make one for this cause a) I worked really hard on that graphic thingy and I want you to see it cause I’m stupidly proud of myself, and b) I wanna check who wants to be tagged for this.

I’m tagging those on my ‘All’ taglist, please lemme know if you wanna be added or removed! Love ya!

Snippet of...something under the cut. It technically happens during the Love Act, but it is a scene that doesn’t happen in the main story, an alternate POV of sorts.

So, quick ground rules: Ivar remembers their past lives (not all of it, but he remembers the Reader and Freydis, and sometimes other people), Freydis and the Reader don’t remember anything most of the time (but Freydis has premonitions regarding her and her sister’s futures).

I hope you like it 😉

Katia sits before you on the bed, her back to you and her eyes closed as you methodically brush her hair. Just like you used to when you were children.

Your mother taught you differently than Katia’s mother did, and she remembers how endlessly fascinated you were while growing up at how she chose to wear her hair with rarely any coverings, just as she was so delighted in finding linens and jewels to make and adorn your shawls and veils.

Your fingers replace the brush, and she feels you carefully toying with the strands of her hair.

You sigh, a little wistfully, a little lost.

“I liked it better when your hair was blonde,” You tell her, chuckling after your words like you haven’t just stopped her heart with but a sentence, “I miss braiding it.”

Katia tells herself this is nothing out of the ordinary. Since you were children she has heard you talk of a world neither of you ever knew, little lost promises of a life that was nothing but a dream.

She remembers how you’d wake her up saying your chest hurt and that you didn’t want to leave her alone, how you’d sit at her side in the mornings and ask if you’d ever be back home even as you had breakfast in the only home you had known; and she remembers how just as easily you’d lay by her side and sleep again with no memory of your pain come morning, how you’d smile wistfully and forget your nostalgia with a bite of a biscuit and the start of your day.

All her life, she has written it off as nothing other than illusions, nothing other than the soft heart of her sister lingering in a world of dreams.

Now, she isn’t so sure they are dreams. Now, she isn’t so sure she doesn’t know Ivar, now she isn’t so sure he is crazy.

The man towers over her, but strangely enough, Katia doesn’t feel fear.

All she feels is anger. All she feels is rage and hate.

And a part of her feels strangely vindicated at the lost look in his eyes, like someone she never was -or someone she never stopped being- is cruelly delighted at his pain.

“You are Freydis,” He tells her, and she keeps careful eyes on him but says nothing, “You’re playing games with me, y-you’ve cursed me.”

“Cursed you?” She asks, the beginning of a smile on her lips. To anyone else, she might look like a woman that has lost her mind, but, to him, she dares think, she looks like a woman powerful, a woman he’d wage war against. “I would think I’d have a reason to curse you. Tell me…did I?”

There’s something there, something human in all the rage of a monster, something like pain, like grief. But the man doesn’t allow it to linger for long, and the pain morphs into wrath before her eyes.

“You took everything from me.” He snarls, rough hand grabbing Katia’s arm and forcing her closer. His eyes are piercing and wrathful as they look into hers.

“What is going on here?” You call out from behind her. And the man’s eyes leave her to focus on you as you approach. His hand drops from her arm, and Katia holds her breath.

Pale blue eyes shine as your soft footsteps approach, and as the man’s expression trembles with something like pain, something like hope, something like love; Katia finds herself afraid to turn around and find a woman she doesn’t recognize in her sister’s place.

She notices the change in him at the sight of you, and for the first time she feels fear.

And she waits now, with baited breath, for you to shake off the veil of dreams, the chimera of something that never was, that never would be.

But you don’t. You continue trailing soft and delicate fingers through her long hair, as if you aren’t making dread and fear poison her from the inside with each passing breath of silence.

“Blonde?” She asks, and her voice trembles, but she doesn’t care.

“Mhm,” You mumble, not really paying attention. After a moment, you take a breath and start again, “Ivar’s eyes were very blue today, di-…”

“His name isn’t Ivar. You should know that by now.”

“That’s what he said his name is.” You insist, but there’s a strange stillness to the way you hold yourself now, when she turns to meet your gaze.

“And he says my name is different too, do you believe him?”

“You aren’t Freydis,” You chuckle, saying the name that haunts Katia’s dreams with terrifying ease. And it feels familiar, coming from your lips. As familiar as the curve of your smile, as familiar as the way you look at that monster that pretends to be a man. You reach with your hand to put a lock of dark hair behind her ear, and offer a soft smile, “Your hair is different.”

She asks what she hasn’t dared ask in a whole life at your side, “W-What else is different?”

“Everything is, and…nothing is,” Your eyes are dazed, and though you are looking directly at her Katia would swear you cannot see her. “You’re my sister, and you love me. That hasn’t changed.”

She doesn’t quite understand why a part of her sighs in relief at hearing you admit you know -knew?- of her love for you, but she does understand why a part of her tightens in fear at the implications that swim in her mind.

And she voices another question, “And what he is to you, has that changed?”

She doesn’t say his name, maybe because she doesn’t know which one to utter.

You smile, and your eyes focus a bit on her, see more of her, “That could never change.”

Her eyes fall from yours, for she cannot keep looking into a familiar hue and see familiar warmth.

She feels you lean forward and press your brow against hers, a gesture of comfort that only makes her shut her eyes tight and bite back a sob.

“Alll our Fates are woven together,” You promise, a death sentence as you grasp your sister’s hand. “We may forget, but those who weave our Fates cannot.”

Come morning, you won’t remember the previous night; come morning Ivar’s eyes will be less blue; come morning, his pain won’t make the memories return to you like strings that tighten and tell you he needs you, or who you once were.

Come morning, you won’t remember. But Katia will.

And she will vow to do whatever it takes not to lose you to him.

____ ____ ____

Thank you for reading! Hope I could catch your interest! The first chapter will be up between Tuesday and Wednesday :)

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @xbellaxcarolinax @1950schick @ietss @peachyboneless @encounterthepast @maggiescarborough @fae-sedai @zuxiezendler @crazybunnyladysworld​ @stupiddarkkside​  @northumbria​  @aprilivar​  

[cruciology]

Buttons

Requested by Anon: Could you do a Sandor fic where the reader is getting dressed for an event, Sandor sees her and some smut happens? Please?

You could already hear the beginnings of the party. You knew your younger sister would give you an earful about being late and embarrassing her in front of her betrothed, but you didn’t really want to go anyways. All the pretending to care what the Ladies had to say about anything, the Lords trailing their hands along your waist, and trying to avoid the royal family. You would much rather be in the kitchens, sneaking drinks with the staff and the guards. It was much more entertaining. As a bastard, you usually weren’t welcome at the fancy feasts and big parties, but Catelyn Stark wasn’t there to shove you into the background like she had your entire life. 

Honestly, you would have been on time had it not been for your stupid dress. You hated the ridiculous fashion in the capitol. Everything required a servant to help get into. What was the point of clothing you couldn’t put on yourself? You could call for a handmaid for help, but you were stubborn if nothing else. You had gotten nearly half the buttons done up but you couldn’t reach the ones further up and you were seriously debating just wrapping a shawl around your shoulders to cover the exposed skin when you heard your name from behind the closed door, along with a sharp knock. 

You held the front of your dress to keep it from falling forward as you pulled the door open. Your eyes traveled upwards, looking at the face of the Hound. 

“Prince Joffrey asked me to escort you,” The Hound explained. You huffed indignantly. “Is there a problem?” 

“I’m sure the prince is just destroyed by my absence,” You said, stepping back into your room. The Hound stayed in the doorway. 

“His Grace requested it on the behalf of your Lady Sister,” The Hound said. 

“Sansa can live without me for a few more minutes while I figure this damned dress out,” You said, annoyed. “I would rather not go at all. If one more stupid high born man tells me what a shame it is that I’m not true born, I’m taking your sword and slitting his throat.” 

The Hound said nothing. You looked at him in the reflection of the long mirror you stood in front of. When he realized you could see him looking at you, he looked away. You couldn’t help the pink that brushed your cheeks. 

“Well, are you going to help me or what?” You asked. He looked back at you in the mirror. 

“Isn’t that what the handmaids are for?” 

“Do you see any handmaids in here, Ser Clegane?” 

“I’m not a knight,” He bristled. 

“Sorry,” You said, turning towards him. “But I still require your assistance, if you wouldn’t mind.” 

He looked like he wanted to say no. You were a little surprised he didn’t. You thought he would say it wasn’t his job or what he was sent for, but instead, he stepped towards you. You watched his reflection. He paused for a long time, his hands just inches from you, his eyes on the exposed skin of your back, as if waiting for you to tell him to get away from you. 

Finally, his fingers found the lowest button. You felt a chill run up your spine as you felt his knuckles brush your back. His fingers were large and his skin was rough. You found yourself wondering how those fingers would feel somewhere else. Your cheeks burned brighter. 

“Shouldn’t let a man into your chambers when you’re not dressed,” He said as he did the next button. 

“And what about a hound?” You joked. 

“You’re lucky it was me the prince sent and not one of his other guards.” 

“Why’s that?” 

“These buttons would be going in a different direction,” He said. 

“I didn’t realize you were such a gentleman,” You said. He barked out a laugh.

“Not about to do anything to the Hand’s daughter,” The Hound said. “I like my head where it’s at.” 

“His bastard daughter.”

“You know your father better than I,” The Hound said. “That’s not a distinction that matters to Eddard Stark.” 

“Maybe not,” You shrugged. “But it does matter to the rest of the people in the capitol.” 

“What’s your point?” The Hound asked, finishing the last button. You noticed he didn’t step away from you. He still stood just as close. You could feel him behind you. 

“You don’t have to be as gentle as you think you do,” You said. You made eye contact with him in the mirror. He studied your reflection. You knew he wasn’t an idiot and you weren’t being subtle. 

You reached back, grabbing one of his hands in yours, placing it on your hip first, then guiding up the path of your stomach, then over your chest, his thumb tracing the curve of your breast. 

“You really this desperate to disappoint your father, girl?” The Hound asked, his voice almost a growl in his throat. 

“Maybe just desperate to be late to the party,” You said with a smirk. 

He took his hand away from you. “Find one of the other guards to help you get undressed, none of them will say no to a girl like you.” 

“And you are saying no?” You asked, spinning around to face him. He always looked a bit surprised when you made eye contact. You weren’t like Sansa, too afraid to even look at him directly. Even if he towered over you, he didn’t frighten you like he did everyone else. 

“Why do you want me to touch you?” He asked instead of answering. You laughed. 

“Why else?” 

“You’ve never been touched by a man,” He guessed. You didn’t want to admit he was right, but your silence confirmed it for him. You weren’t stupid enough to think that your ‘virtue’ meant anything to anyone but a man’s ego, but you were still embarrassed to admit it. “Plenty of other willing men.” 

“Are you not a willing man?” 

“I’m very willing,” He said. His hands found their way to your hips again. He pulled you against him, letting you feel the bulge pressed against your stomach. “But why are you?”

“You want a full explanation?” You asked. 

“Not really,” He said. He bent down, grabbing your thighs roughly as he lifted you. Just as quickly, you found yourself pressed into your bed, his large body over yours. You pressed your lips to his, showing him you meant what you said. 

You let your skirts pool up around your waist as you wrapped your legs around him. You could feel his rigid length under the cloth of his pants and you wanted nothing more to feel it all the way inside of you. You couldn’t help a moan that passed your lips as he rolled his hips against yours, giving you some much needed friction. 

“You like that?” He asked, his breath hot on your ear. You nodded furiously. He moved down your body, leaving rough, stubbled kisses on your skin and the cloth of your dress. His beard tickled your stomach and you felt a hot flush across your skin as he press a kiss onto the soft flesh of your inner thigh, just above your knee. He knelt on the floor as if in prayer before you on the bed. He pulled your body towards him, putting your thighs up on his shoulders. 

He kissed higher and higher on your thigh until you felt his hot breath on your center. He stood completely still, his hands pressed on your hips. You needed him so badly, you ached. You squirmed under his hands, making him laugh against your leg. 

“Impatient little thing, you are,” He said, kissing your thigh again. 

You were about to voice your protests when you felt his finger enter you, making you gasp. You twisted your fingers into his hair. He curled his finger inside of you, watching you as your back arched off the bed. 

He kissed the nest of curls before his tongue found your clit, making you cry out, holding tighter to his hair. He licked your slit as you rode his hand, enjoying the way you sounded as you got closer. 

He added another finger, his thrusts growing faster. Tears formed in your eyes, all the nerves in your body on fire in the best possible way. You had only felt this way alone, in your room with hand beneath your sheets in the dark. His tongue was lapping at your pussy sloppily, sounding like he had never tasted anything better. 

“Oh gods,” You cried out, your thighs shaking as you came, stars rising and bursting behind your eyes. 

Your breathing was ragged as he pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean. He helped you sit up, pulling your dress back down to cover you. He stood before you, helping you to your feet, his hand still on your back. You stood on your toes, your hands on his shoulders, to kiss him. You could taste yourself on his lips.

“Best get down to the party,” He said against your mouth. 

“This says otherwise,” You said, your hand slipping down to his hard cock, making him groan. He grabbed your wrist gently, but hard enough to pull it away. 

“Never had a virgin,” He said. “I’m going to take my time.” 

“You’re really going to make me wait?” 

“Until later,” He kissed you again before finally pulling away. He stepped back to the door, holding it open for you. You huffed again. He gestured for you to walk out before him. Just as you passed him, he gripped your arm, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “After this stupid thing, I’m going to rip every fucking button off.” 

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

College AU Week 1 Day 2 - Javier Pena

A/N: Day 2 of the January AU challenge and 300 follower celebration! I had so much fun writing this one and if you want a second smutty part I could be persuaded to do it. Thank you for every reblog, comment, and like. :) 

Pairing: Javier Pena x female reader 

Warning: 18 + (language, mentions of drug/alcohol use, reader has an ex boyfriend) 

My Masterlist 

My friend dragged me to this party, and I just saw my ex quick make out with me. 

Javier readjusted the tie in the mirror again for the twelfth time before ripping it off and opening up the top three buttons of the shirt. Tugging on his trusty leather jacket over the shirt and holstering his gun. Javier spent his life working as an on-campus security guard at the local University. Breaking up parties with underage drinking, busting students for narcotics use, and making sure they felt safe on campus. He took great pride in his job, and the pay wasn't awful. Although as he's gotten older over the last few years, he felt something was missing from his life. 

He joined some of the dating sites and apps that his buddy Steve, a history professor, suggested. Steve had met his wife, Connie, on one of the sites, and they seemed happy with their new baby girl Olivia so why not. It was a disaster. The dates were dull and expensive, each of them expecting him to dish out for them. He still slept with all of them, but nothing lasted for more than an evening of fun. It was cheaper and easier to pick someone up in a bar than find a relationship with someone. 

The newest guard at the station Daniel Van Ness had begged him to get out of the faculty party he had been assigned. Javier hated them just as much as the recruit, but by now, he had a few friends on the faculty, and it wouldn't be a total bore. He just needed to make sure no students crashed the party and that anyone who drank too much got home safe and not behind the wheel. It wasn't the most ideal event, but every dollar he made went back into the house fund. Javier had the goal of buying a house this year, and he was so close to making his goal. 

******* 

Across town, you readjusted the straps on your purple dress for the twelfth time. Faculty events were the bane of your existence. As a literature professor and the classics, you'd much rather spend the evening with a glass of whiskey, comfy couch, and a book. Instead, your friend Tata decided it would be fun if you tagged along this year. 

You hated events like these, but the President of the University insisted on these events to raise funds for the school. Although with the outrageous amount of money they collect from students and the way they badger former students for donations, the school should be rolling in the dough. 

Tata's husband was in commerce and owned a large shipping company across town. Tata ran the daycare the University used to teach students about business and childcare. She was one of the sweetest women you'd ever met, even if her husband did kind of give you the creeps. 

Your phone chimes and you smile at the party emojis from Tata and reply back that your on the way. Grabbing your black lace shawl and tossing it over your shoulders and your purse, plopping in your phone and heading for the party. Who knows, maybe it would all turn out for the better? 

Who the hell ever told you to be so optimistic? It's basically asking for trouble. The party was in full swing when you arrived. Well, as full swing as a party full of academics can be. The DJ was trying to play music people could dance to, but only a few were actually dancing, and it was mostly couples. Tata sees you instantly, and you almost groan at how effortless she looks. She's smaller than most people in the room, with cute shoulder-length brown hair that curls at the ends and a strapless purple dress with a thin see-through shawl around her shoulders. 

"You made it," she squeals and pulls you into a hug. 

You can't help but smile at her enthusiasm and return the hug, "Did you ever doubt me?" 

"Of absolutely! If I hadn't threatened to come and drag you out of that apartment, you wouldn't be here. But I am very glad you here, now Pablo owes me money, he bet against you." She grins and pinches her fingers together. 

"You and your husband had a bet to see if I would come to the faculty party?" You laugh, and she takes a sip, nodding. 

"Yes, the business has been a little slow lately, and you know my husband is always planning what's next. I needed something to keep his mind on me." 

You loved Tata, but her husband was really an asshole; you could smell the fake from a mile away. You see the bar and tell Tata you're going to get a drink, but she's already off like a butterfly floating around the room. You make your way over to the bar, order a whiskey on the rocks and take a small sip turning around the room and scoping out the scene. 

Your eyes lock in on the movement in the corner. From the shadows emerges, someone new from the usual faculty crowd. He's tall and broad as hell in a black leather jacket thrown over a light blue button-up the top three buttons undone exposing his chest, tucked into dark wash jeans. You observe the holster around his waist tucked under the coat and the badge. He must be campus security, and it's almost like he can feel your eyes on him. He looks up from the shadows, and your eyes meet. 

Holy fuck. 

His eyes captivate you and suck you in like the swirling vortex of a tornado. Sucking you in deeper and deeper into his soul. It's electric. You see his lips curve up in a small smile, and his mustache rises, and all you can imagine is how it would feel against your lips if you kissed him. He takes a step in your direction, and you move a step closer before someone is shouting your name. You freeze and turn, looking at the door, mouth agape. 

Your ex-boyfriend Roberto Ramos is striding over to you wearing tan dress pants and a blue and white striped polo. You grimace, looking back over towards the handsome stranger and then back at Poison. Tata's little nickname she came up with after you broke up and realized how honestly much of a scumbag he was. You make the split decision, and place down your drink and walk quickly over to the guard. He raises one eyebrow as you race over to him. 

You throw your arms around his neck, and he places his on your waist. "Save me, please," you whisper, looking at him with wide eyes, "that's my ex over there, and I really want him to leave me alone. If it looks like we're here together, he won't approach." 

"That one?" he nods, and you try to look over the corner of your eye and see Poison freeze watching you. You shake a yes and smile at the guard. "Seems like a fascinating guy," he deadpans, and you laugh, making him smile down at you. "What do you need me to do? Get rid of him? He's just staring at us." He whispers conspiratorially, grinning at you. 

"Kiss me," the words are out of your mouth before you can think, "make out with me, and he will leave me alone." His smile drops, and he looks between your eyes and lips before nodding. His head drops, and he tentatively connects his lips with your own. He presses once then twice, taking a step closer to you and running his fingers up your neck and dipping your head back, deepening the kiss. 

You gasp and grasp the lapels of his leather jacket, his arms winding around your shoulders and pulling you even closer, no space between you. His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, and you open, feeling him lick inside your mouth. His tongue tangling up with your own. You moan lowly, and he takes a step further into the shadows and into the hallway away from the party. Your back connects with the wall, and you let out a small grunt before you run your fingers through his hair and tug gently. He groans and pushes a knee between your legs spreading them—your panties rubbing against the fabric of his jeans. The feeling between your legs is enough to snap you back to reality. 

"Wait," you pull away panting, he drops his head to your shoulder, letting out hurried breaths before he slowly raises his eyes, resting his forehead against yours. 

"Too much?" he asks, nervously chuckling. 

"Not enough, to be honest," you look into his eyes and smile. "That was...fucking amazing, but we shouldn't really have sex across the hall from a faculty party." 

His cute little eyebrow raises again, "Oh, is that where this was headed? I thought you just needed me to escape your ex?" 

You laugh, "Well, if he doesn't get the hint now, I think I may need to file a restraining order." 

"I can help you with that if you need it," you smile and kiss him again, loving the feel of his mustache brushing against your lip. 

"I don't think he will be a problem anymore, but...maybe I am a little nervous about going home right now, ya know, in case he shows up…" 

"Well, we can't have that. Would you like to maybe spend the night over at my place?" You match his smile and nod, "for safety, right?" 

"Oh yeah, for safety," you take his hand, and he intertwines your fingers. 

"I need to stay till the end of the party for work," he looks down at his watch, "we got about two hours. Do you think you can make it that long?" 

"Can I stay near you?" he nods, and raises your intertwined hands to his lips, and kisses your knuckles. 

"On one condition," he teases, "you have to tell me your name." You laugh, letting him know your name, and he smiles, telling you his. Javier Pena. The name rolls off your tongue, and he groans before kissing you again. "This is going to be the longest two hours of my life." 

"Well, if you make it through this party, I can tell you the after-party will be much for enjoyable." He moans, and his eyes darken. 

"I can't wait." 

Taglist: @josepedropascal​ @mrschiltoncat​ @mrsparknuts​ @ghostwiththemostbitch​ @zannemes​ @oldstuffnewstuff​ @yespolkadotkitty​ @heythere-mel​ @justanotherblonde23​ @artsymaddie​ @anetteaneta​ @lunarthoughts​ @aellynera​ @lucifer-​ @houseofthirst​ @phoenixhalliwell​ @chicken-ona-stick​ 

[tuanyiems]

Caramel Swirls

Yugyeom x Reader (f) fluff x smut words: 3.8k plot: it’s date night but you’re both a little reluctant to leave the car, established relationship!au warnings – thigh riding, car sex, public sex, reader is a lowkey exhibitionist lol, unprotected sex, creampie a/n – this one is my favorite so far! part of Le Chocolatier drabble series, which you can find the masterlist for in my blog. feel free to read this as a one-shot or part of the series, in any order you want <3

You glance at yourself in the full-length mirror. You don’t quite look like yourself. It’s strange but also exhilarating. You angle your body to the side, admiring the way the silky material hugs your curves. Give it to Yugyeom to be able to find a dress that fits you, skintight. 

Lifting your arm to thread your fingers through your hairline, you pause, eyes still lingering on your body. Surprisingly, you don’t hate it. The dress Yugyeom picked for your date night is a deep shade of green, almost black in the evening light, and comes barely past your ass. On both sides of the strapless material, an open sliver teases at your bare skin.

You dressed the outfit in layers of gold, from your shimmering eye makeup to the gold heels on your feet. Atop your shoulders is a delicate see-through shawl, lined with gold embroidery—a piece you had only ever worn once at your best friend’s wedding, but you figured this was a good occasion to take it out again. Otherwise, you figured you’d have been more fit for a club than a fancy dinner. 

You smile, puckering your Dior red lips at your reflection. You have to hand it to Yugyeom. You do feel good getting all dressed up.

Of course, tonight it not just any occasion. It’s your birthday! And Yugyeom was adamant on treating you to an indulgent night. After all, it’s your first birthday as a couple and he wanted it to go perfectly.

There’s a knock on your door and when you turn Yugyeom is entering your bedroom like a prince. His wavy black hair is parted, curling into a heart at his forehead. But what takes your breath away is the black suit that’s tailored to his frame. His white button up is partially open, showcasing his collarbones. Your gaze travels down to his chest that peeks through as he walks to you.

“You look beautiful,” he whispers, hugging you from behind. You watch him through the mirror, the way he stares at your body showing his sincerity. Smiling, you relax into his chest, the familiar citrus and warm notes of bergamot tickling your nose.

You run your hand over his on your waist before turning your head up to look at him. “Thank you, you have good taste.”

“You really like the dress?” his eyebrow lifts in surprise.

You crinkle your nose. “Did you buy the dress thinking I wouldn’t?”

He chuckles, slightly embarrassed before shaking his head. “As soon as I saw the dress, I knew it was made for you. It’s different though. I know you don’t usually go for this style.”

At this, you break into a smile, sinking your fingers between his. “You’re right, I would never give this dress a second glance. But I’m glad you did, I like it.”

Pleased, Yugyeom pulls you tight to his chest and presses a kiss to your cheek, careful not to smudge your makeup. It makes you giggle, which makes Yugyeom smile even wider. He rests his head on your shoulder, gazing at you through the mirror.

“You look a little too good,” he pouts. “Makes me want to cancel our reservations.”

You meet his gaze through the mirror. You could say the same about him. He looks too good to be true in this suit. For a second, you seriously contemplate his suggestion, but ultimately, you decide against the impulse to jump him in your bedroom.

Twisting in his arms, you smile at Yugyeom. “How long were you on the waitlist again?”

Laughing, Yugyeom nods. “You’re right, we better get going.”

When you enter the car, you are greeted by a single rose sitting on the passenger’s seat. It makes your heart flutter. This isn’t the first time Yugyeom has gifted you with flowers before, but every time he does, you are reminded of a softness you’ve never felt in any of your past relationships. 

Yugyeom always has a way of making you feel soft and warm inside. You realized soon after you began dating that it was because Yugyeom as a person was just very soft and warm. From the moment you first met, you had felt it in his voice and seen it in his smile.

His aura, despite your own embarrassment and clumsiness, is the reason why you felt comfortable being around him. And now, almost a year into your relationship, you were still finding your heart fluttering from his small but sweet gestures.

Yugyeom takes a moment from the driver’s seat to watch you. Your eyelashes, dusted with the loose glitter from your makeup, brushes against your cheeks as you dip your nose to the crimson petals. 

To be honest, Yugyeom still doesn’t know how he got this lucky.

His days used to be so mundane. Of course, he loved his job and loved where he was in life, but it was still routine and pretty boring sometimes. And then you stumbled into his life like magic and made every single day since full of surprise and joy and excitement.

Even though you’re so self-critical about everything you do, Yugyeom thinks even your imperfections are perfect; like the way your face holds your emotions like an open book, or the way your words jumble altogether whenever you get nervous or excited. 

When you look back up to meet his gaze, your rosy lips stretch like a petal unfurling. “My mom called today,” you start and there’s a light in your eyes.

Yugyeom’s cheeks lift, dusted pink. “Oh really?” he feigns ignorance, looking away.

“Yeah,” you sing, leaning in. “It seems she received some flowers too. Have any idea about that, Gyeom?”

You press your palm into his thigh to stabilize yourself as you lean in close and when he turns to you, your noses are practically touching. 

Scrunching your nose at him, you smile, “Thank you.”

You press your lips against his, relishing in the muffled sound of surprise from his mouth. As quickly as you started, you are pulling away though and when you see the red stain on his lips, you laugh, thumbing at his lips. He watches you fondly as you do.

And before you can remove your hand, he grabs hold of your fingers, rubbing across them gently with his thumb. Still looking at you, he presses a soft kiss to your fingertips.

“It’s what your mother deserves,” he tells you. “She brought into the world my favorite person.”

You roll your eyes but the smile on your lips betrays your feelings. “This is why your friends call us saps.”

“They’re just jealous,” he chuckles, tugging at your wrist.

Lifting your brow, you give him a once over before shrugging the shawl off your shoulders. You shuffle onto Yugyeom’s lap, legs straddling one thigh.

“Something you’d like to tell me?” You tilt your head coquettishly. 

“Just that you’re beautiful,” he answers, hands coming around your waist. They run up and down your soft skin, between the gaps of your dress. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“You said that already,” you laugh bashfully, eyelashes fluttering down. You finger at the collar of his white button down, knuckles brushing at his collarbone. “How did you know my mom’s favorite flowers anyways?”

Yugyeom shrugs. “Her house was full of peonies, so I just assumed.”

You look at Yugyeom for a long time. You’ve only brought Yugyeom to your mother’s place once for Mother’s Day and only briefly. The fact that he thought to gift her flowers at all was a sweet gesture no other man has ever done for you before, but he even noticed the peonies in your mother’s garden and put in the care to arrange her favorite flowers for your birthday. 

You bring your hands to his face, thumb brushing at the moles across his cheek. Underneath his fun, playful character is his equally loving, thoughtful nature. How did you get so lucky?

“What?” Yugyeom furrows his brows at your extended silence.

“Nothing,” you whisper, before pulling him into a deep kiss. When his tongue meets yours, you can taste a hint of sweetness. Smiling against his lips, you wonder aloud, “Did you eat caramel?”

Yugyeom answers with another kiss, swirling his tongue against yours. The soft, velvet touch in your mouth sends a thrill throughout your body. Every time Yugyeom squeezes his fingers around your waist, you feel a heat spreading to your core.

Trying to soothe the need building in you, you press your core harder into his leg, whimpering when you rub yourself along the length of his thigh. As soon as he hears you, Yugyeom tilts his head back with a groan. 

“God,” he mutters, leaning against the headrest. His hooded eyes rake over your body. “Do that again, baby.”

He smirks, watching the embarrassment wash over your face. He squeezes your thigh reassuringly. “Don’t get shy on me now, baby. Do what you just did.”

Biting at your lip, you let yourself sink onto his thigh. The green material of your dress rides up your thigh, just barely covering what Yugyeom wants to see most. Clutching at his shirt, you slowly rut into him. The sensation brings a deep sigh out of you as you close your eyes to savor the feeling.

Yugyeom takes the opportunity to snake his hand underneath your dress to squeeze at your ass. Feeling your bare flesh in his hands, he smirks at you. “A thong, baby?”

“Not a lot of options with this dress,” you huff, pressing your lips back on his.

“Mm,” he hums with pleasure, squeezing at your plump flesh harder. He pushes you harder against his thigh, making you shiver. The smooth silk of your thong against his suit trousers makes you rub down on him faster now, the electric sensation building up in your clit. Already, there is a wet spot beginning to spread on his trousers.

“Fuck, you look hot like this,” Yugyeom mumbles, watching the way you fall apart on him. “Are you that desperate? You gonna cum before I even touch you?”

When he flexes his muscled thigh, you mewl, grinding harder against him. Already you can feel the tension building in your core.

“Fuck,” he groans when you ride him faster. You clutch on to him like a lifeline. He can feel himself tightening in his pants. But Yugyeom resists the urge to touch himself and instead, keeps his eyes on the way you’re soaking his pants with your arousal.

“Keep going, baby,” he encourages you as you begin to lose your pace. “Let me see you cum all over my pants like a good girl. When people see us, they’ll know exactly what you did.”

“Gyeom!” You moan, tilting your head back as you rut into his thigh. Each time, spiking a thrill that hurtles to your core. When he flexes his thigh once more, the knot in your core snaps, sending white heat throughout your body. Your entire body tingles with pleasure and Yugyeom’s name leaves your lips like a mantra as you fall into his arms.

When you finally come to, Yugyeom is smiling at you. Lifting at your dress, he smirks, pressing his thumb into the soaked triangle of your thongs.

“You made a mess,” he chuckles, pressing circles into your clit. 

“Gyeom,” you whimper, feeling the faint pinch of overstimulation on your sensitive bud.

Smiling, he presses a kiss to your jawline. “Is kitten hungry now?”

You shake your head, pulling his chin between your index and thumb, you glance at his lips before looking at him. And smiling mischievously, you reach your other hand down to pull the lever of his seat down, sending the both of you flat onto the chair.

“I want you,” you whisper into his ear. It sends a shiver down his spine.

“You are the birthday girl,” he concedes, tongue in cheek.

You grin, sneaking your hand down and cupping the bulge in his pants. He closes his eyes with a groan.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who wants something,” you tease, rubbing your palm against him.

“You looked so good riding me, babe,” he defends, a pout on his lips. You kiss it away, licking at the seams on his lips before tangling your tongue with his. At the same time your hands hurry to undo his belt, struggling to pull at the leather. He helps you out, loosening the belt and tugging his trousers down.

Eagerly, you pull him out through the hole of his boxers and unconsciously, your mouth begins to water at the sight of his hard cock standing at attention.

His dick is so hard, you can see the veins pulsing. You hold him in your small fist, rubbing him up and down until a small bead of precum leaks at his slit. He lets out a long breathy sigh, twitching in your grasp. Licking you lips, you circle your thumb across his slit, rubbing his precum in circles around the head of his cock until he’s shivering.

“Fuck,” he grips at your wrist, stopping you. “Quit teasing.”

You nod, pressing your lips to his jawline, your own patience wearing thin. Yugyeom shivers, feeling your teeth scrape against his lobe before you lift yourself off of him. Shuffling, you straddle him, hovering over his throbbing cock.

Glancing out the car window, you glance at him, an eyebrow cocked. Your red lips, smudged now, lift upwards, promising mischief. Running your tongue over your teeth, you stop at the edge of your mouth, peeking teasingly out of your lips just as you dip your thumbs between the seams of your dress. With a sudden tug, your dress scrunches down at your midriff and Yugyeom is blessed with the beautiful view of your boobs bouncing out of their confines in front of him.

“Oops,” you feign, your chest now in plain view of anyone who chances a glance past the car window. The very thought sends chills through your body and Yugyeom’s too. For someone so shy in their everyday life, you sure had an outgoing kink. Not that he’s complaining.

He loves this side of you.

“Come here,” he orders, tugging you down until your tits are practically smothering him.

Your skin is hot against his cheeks as he kisses down the valley of your chest, sucking a trail of hickeys down your skin. You whimper, nipples already hard with arousal. Another moan escapes you louder when he sucks a bud into his mouth, flicking it between his tongue while his hand comes to caress the other, rolling and pinching you between his thumb.

You lose your breath under his control, eyes closing as your body tingles with desperation. You watch him with lidded eyes as he moans around your boob, sucking on you like a starved man. You run your fingers through his wavy strands, pulling tight as you rub your core against his cock. Anything to relieve the throbbing ache.

The slight pain in his scalp only causes him to groan against your breasts, sucking you hard between his teeth.

“Gyeom, I can’t take this anymore,” you gasp out, pulling him off of you with a pop.

He nods, breath heavy as he grasps the base of his cock. He watches with blown pupils as you slip your finger through the string of your thong and pull the thin material to the side, revealing your lips, slick with arousal.

He groans, seeing your juices run down your thighs.

“Want me that much? You’re dripping baby,” he mutters, voice strained as you rub his tip between your folds.

He can feel the heat of your entrance teasing him. It drives him wild and you can see it on his face, the way his jaw ticks with self-restraint. It makes you want to tease him more, but the feeling of his head against your clit feels too good. 

You sink down on him with a sigh, eyes closing. You’re so wet that he slides right in, but the stretch is still delicious. No matter how many times Yugyeom has entered you, you can never get over how breathtaking the very first stroke feels. The way he breeches your folds, stretching you out around his thick cock always manages to break a whimper from your throat. This moan is guttural, pushing out from deep in your lungs as he pushes himself deeper into you. You shiver, cunt swallowing him in hungrily.

When he fills you to the hilt, you both sigh into each other, relishing in the way he fills you completely, in the way your soft velvety walls hug around him. You squeeze around him, enjoying just how full you feel.

“Fuck,” he whispers, cock twitching at the sensation. “Your pussy will be the death of me.”

Smirking, you roll your hips, clit rubbing against him and bringing another moan out of the both of you.

“Love your cock,” you confess, fingers clutching around his button up. You can feel his abs underneath tensing as you squeeze around him again. “My pussy was made for this dick.”

“Then show me,” he urges, bringing his arms to the back of his head. He smirks. “Ride me like a good kitten, hm?”

Biting your bottom lip, you moan, sliding off of his cock until only his tip is inside you. And in one swoop, you slide back down onto his length. Over and over, you ride his cock, mewling each time the head of his cock kisses your cervix. The pain and pleasure brings tears to your eyes as you bounce relentlessly on dick.

Yugyeom licks at his lips, fighting the urge to let his eyes roll back. Your cunt feels so heavenly around him, his toes are curling in his shoes, but you look too good to look away. In those gold heels, legs spread wide and tits bouncing. He almost hopes someone really does walk by because it’s such a waste that only he gets to see this lovely sight. 

You ride him so well. He can’t get enough of the sight. He watches as his cock disappears inside of you over and over, your arousal dripping down his cock and soiling his boxers. God, you don’t know what you do to him.

Already, he can feel his balls tightening.

Stretching his arms out from behind his head, he rewards you with a thumb to your clit.

“Gyeom!” you moan, body shivering as soon as his thumb rubs circles against you. You swallow, forehead glistening and thighs straining. The sudden pleasure that shoots through your core makes you lose your pacing until your body gives out and you fall into his chest.

Yugyeom smiles, pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. “You worked hard, kitten. Now let me take care of you.”

With that, Yugyeom lifts his feet to the seat and wraps his hands around your ass. And arching up front the seat, he pulls you into his chest and begins thrusting up, hitting you much faster and harder than you could. You let out a breathless moan, fingers threading through his hair as he fucks up into you. Your clit rubs against him, making you squeeze around him.

Your moans and the lewd squelching of your juices fills the small space every time he thrusts into you. You’re both sweating in the thick heat of the car and you’re absolutely positive the car is shaking from Yugyeom’s prowess, but you could care less. All you can think of is the sound of Yugyeom’s heavy breathing against your neck and the pulse of his cock fucking himself into you.

“Fuck, yes!” you scream, your body tightening exponentially when he rubs against your g-spot, sending an electric heat straight to your core. “Right there, baby!”

Yugyeom can feel you tightening around him and with renewed vigor, he tightens his hold around your hips, sucking a nipple into his mouth. He sucks so hard it hurts, but the pain mixes with the pleasure of his cock hitting your g-spot every single time.

It feels so good you could cry, each thrust making you impossibly tighter around his cock.

“I’m-I’m gonna cum,” you whine, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself at the brink of euphoria. 

“Let go, baby,” he whispers against your skin, thrusting harder into you.

“Gyeom!” you moan almost incoherently as you fall completely into his chest, body giving into the pleasure as a burst of ecstasy releases from your core, your mind going blank as the pleasure hits you in waves.

Yugyeom fucks you through the high, his cock straining as you pulse around him.

“Shit,” he curses, feeling his balls tighten.

And then he is moaning into the heat of the car as hot cum shoots into you. He groans, thrusting into your cum-filled cunt until the sensation gets too much.

You shiver, feeling him slip out of you. You let out a satisfied breath, feeling his cum, warm inside you. Arching up, you glance down. Despite the thong sliding back in place, his cum drips down your thigh. Yugyeom watches with you, his chest filling with pride.

Finally, Yugyeom lets out a laugh. “Is it your birthday or mines?”

You join him in laughter, fixing your dress back up before lying back down on him.

“That’s what happens when you go do things like buy my mom flowers,” you chuckle, palm on his chest. You can hear the beat of his heart against your ear, still thrumming with excitement.

“I should buy her flowers every day then,” he jokes, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

You smile in amusement.

Placing a palm to your cheek, he rubs his thumb across your soft skin, tilting your head to look at him. “Still wanna go out?”

You giggle, eyes curling when you stop to really look at him. His entire face and neck is smeared with your red lipstick.

“I don’t think we’re dressed proper anymore,” you chuckle. “And I’m pretty sure we’ve missed our reservation.”

“Sure?” he asks softly. “I can call to move our reservation. Give us time to clean up.”

You shake your head, lips curving up. “I don’t want to clean up.”

“Oh?” he arches his brows, curious.

“How about,” you press a light kiss to his jawline. You trail fluttering kisses to his neck and feel the bob of his adam’s apple as he gulps. “We go back up to my place and get dirtier?”

[starshine583]

Crossing a Line (19)

(so this was actually supposed to be the last chapter, but it got long so I had to stop lol enjoy!)

Part 1 / Part 18 / Part 20

Felix held his ground next to Marinette, worried and terrified at the same time. He thought telling his Father about the wish would discourage him from using it, but his Father only got angry, instead, spouting nonsense about “sacrifices” and “family”. Why was he angry? There was still a cure. There was no need to fight! Why wouldn’t he listen?

Marinette stepped forward and confronted his Father’s true intentions, which only made him angrier. Felix tried to calm the situation as it escalated, but Marinette promised to get the miraculous back, while Gabriel promised not to let that happen. It wasn’t until she pulled out his peacock miraculous that Felix realized compromise and negotiation weren’t options anymore.

“Duusu, spread my feathers!” Marinette cried, quickly pinning the miraculous to the lower front of her shirt. The familiar blue light he’d gotten used to seeing flash over his skin washed over her body, and Marinette’s casual outfit disappeared. The miraculous replaced it with a royal blue dress that faded into different colored feathers such as purple, dark blue, and indigo. Her gloves and high-heeled boots, which extended to her knees and mid-biceps respectively, were also royal blue, and the ends of each were covered in a dark blue, feather-shaped pattern that trailed up to the navy blue part of the suit, such as her collar bone, neck, and thighs. A short shawl made entirely of purple feathers wrapped around her shoulders as well, connected by a small, indigo pearl. It brought out the sparkling fuchsia that lined the front and back of the royal blue dress perfectly. If it weren’t for the circumstances, Felix might have been tempted to stop and study the fabric in all its magnificence. 

Gabriel’s expression twisted with rage. “How did you get that?”

Marinette unclasped one of her fans from a metal button on the back of her dress and held it in front of her, showing the sharpness of the curved tip. “Let’s say it was a present from your son.”

Felix grimaced at the look of disdain his Father shot him.

“You gave her your miraculous?!” He fumed.

“No, I-!” 

“Don’t talk back to me!” His Father growled. “I should have known not to trust you from the beginning!” 

Felix flinched back as Gabriel lunged forward in a fit of rage. Before they could collide, though, a feather-shaped knife sank deep into Gabriel’s shirt sleeve, pinning him to a bookshelf. Felix looked to Marinette, who was already pulling another throwing knife out of her hair. He had thought the feathers that decorated her spread out bun were simply that, a decoration.

“Felix, run!” She ordered, throwing the second knife to pin Gabriel’s other arm to the bookshelf. “Go find my miraculous!”

“I’m not leaving you!” Felix argued, taking a step back from his struggling Father. The whole reason he took her miraculous in the first place was to protect her from this exact encounter.

Marinette stepped in front of him, but glanced over her shoulder as she said, “I’ll be fine. I have Duusu. Now go!”

Felix clenched his fists. He hated the idea of leaving her alone, but he didn’t have a miraculous. Anything he tried to do now would only get in her way.

Fueled by adrenaline, Felix stumbled to the other end of the aisle and sprinted towards the Library’s entrance. He almost ran into Gorilla on his way out. Earrings, Earrings- where would Father put Marinette’s earrings if he had them? This house was enormous. They could be anywhere!

He started with the office first, checking the only hiding place he knew Father had: the safe. Felix pulled open his Mother’s painting, and.. They weren’t there. He checked behind the smaller pictures, under the books, and practically pulled everything else out. There was nothing.

“Where are you?” He grumbled to himself, lifting up another pile of books.

“So you finally show your true colors.”

Felix froze, slowly turning around to see none other than Nathalie. She stood in front of him, wearing a crap-eating grin. He should have known she would appear eventually. Nathalie was always eager to be Father’s back up.

“I always knew you weren’t worthy of Gabriel’s trust.” She said, tilting her head up with all the poise of a condescending twit. 

Felix heaved a tired sigh. “And I always knew you’d be the first one to lay down and let him treat you like a dog once I came to my senses.” 

He didn’t want to believe what Marinette said about Father wanting power instead of Mother, but the proof was right in front of him. If Father truly cared about their family and Mother’s well-being, he would let Marinette try to cure her! And if family wasn’t what Father cared about, what else was left but power?

Nathalie let out a snooty little laugh. “Of course you would think that. You don’t understand anything. Your Father is a loving man who is doing the best that he can to raise you two and heal your Mother!”

"Raise us?” Felix scoffed. “He barely talks to us! And right now, he’s the one standing in the way of healing my Mother. So tell me where the earrings are!”

Nathalie tisked and tilted her head slightly to the side, just enough for him to catch a glimpse of the black, circular earrings she was wearing. “They’re safe. Much safer than they were in your hands. Unlike you, I won’t be handing them back over to the enemy so easily.”

Felix shifted into a fighting position. “We’ll see about that.”

“Oh, you want to fight me now?” She asked, a smirk reappearing on her lips. When Felix didn’t answer, the smirk widened. “Good. I’ve been wanting to punch you in that perfect face of yours for years. Tikki, spots on!”

Felix’s eyes widened as Nathalie transformed in front of him. He hadn’t expected her to actually use the miraculous!

The red, magical light that covered her took away her professional suit and exchanged it with a red and black spotted costume. Black colored her forearms- save for the palms and fingers -and bottom half of her legs, acting as boots and gloves. A bit of black covered the sides of her waist as well.

“Well, Felix?” Nathalie taunted, taking one of the two yo-yos that hung on the utility belt around her hips. “You said you wanted the earrings. Why don’t you come take them?”

Felix grit his teeth. “Fine with me. Using Marinette’s miraculous will only make it more embarrassing for you when I get them back.”

Nathalie growled and slung her first yo-yo forward. Felix dodged and whipped around to grab the yo-yo string. Nathalie barely got a gasp of surprise out before he yanked on the string, causing her to fly forward. He hadn’t spent months as Le Paon lying around doing nothing. (Though that might have been part of it) No, he’d been fighting. Specifically against Ladybug and Chat Noir. He knew how her miraculous worked, and he knew it’s weaknesses. Most importantly, he knew that Nathalie knew none of that. 

Nathalie hit the ground with a harsh grunt, but Felix didn’t have time to revel in her struggles. She cried out in rage and twisted her body to kick him in the legs. Felix fell forward, landing on top of Nathalie. She gasped, as he’d landed on her back, and struggled to get him off.

“Didn’t go as planned, huh?” He grunted, moving to grab one of her earrings. 

Unfortunately, his attention was briefly diverted before he could. The library doors were thrown wide open when someone fell through the doorway. Upon closer inspection, Felix realized it was Hawkmoth who had gotten thrown out. Did Father transform? Where was Marinette?

Just then, Marinette jumped out of the doorway as well, still transformed and shouting for Gabriel to give up. 

Felix’s thoughts were once again redirected when Nathalie bucked her body upwards, causing him to fall back onto the floor. She lifted herself to her knees a moment later and reached for her yo-yo again. Felix twirled on the floor to start getting up as well, but kicked her hand to stall the drawing of her weapon.

Nathalie drew her hand back and hissed. “Infernal child!”

“Only for you.” Felix shot back, pushed himself to his feet. 

Nathalie was up a second later, and they got back to switching between chasing and hiding. She finally managed to unhook both of her yo-yos and started hurling them at Felix as fast as she could. Felix dodged them with the best of his ability, all the while jumping around the room for cover. She finally got one yo-yo wrapped around his left arm right when he reached the desk. Felix grappled for the desk chair in a desperate attempt to avoid being dragged back, but being a rolling chair, it only rolled back with him. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from using it to his advantage. Felix used the friction from his shoes to slow himself down right in front of Nathalie and swung the chair around with his free hand, smacking her in the side with it. Nathalie held up her forearms to block the blow, but flew to the side anyway. She slid to a stop, unfortunately still on her feet, and before Felix could detach the yo-yo from his arm, Nathalie yanked him forward once again and kicked him in the stomach.

Felix skidded across the floor, rolling to a stop at the office doorway. He sucked in ragged breaths to compensate for the air that had just been sucked out of his lungs. That was.. a decent move.

“Payback, brat.” Nathalie huffed, staggering back to regain her breath as well.

Felix lifted his head up to snap back at her when something made the words die in his throat.

“..My lady?” 

Felix turned on his side to look through the office doorway, praying that he’d misheard something. 

There Chat Noir stood, his cat ears flat against his head as he warily glanced between Marinette and Father, who had paused their battle to look at him. When did he get downstairs? Was Marinette trying to explain the situation?

“A- Chat Noir!” He called out. “Get back!”

He wanted Marinette to have help, but Adrien didn’t have the emotional stability to get involved. Father already had Ladybug’s earrings. If he found out who Chat Noir was, it would be nearly impossible to keep him from getting the ring.

Chat Noir’s eyes snapped to Felix’s, growing wide with surprise and worry. “Felix?”

Father followed Chat Noir’s gaze and raised a brow. Felix grimaced as he watched the gears turn in his Father’s mind, watched them click into place as Father realized how the hero knew where they were or why he seemed so worried about Felix.

“So.” Father began, turning back to Chat Noir. Felix couldn’t tell if he was delighted or angry. Probably a morbid twist or both. “My own son has been fighting against me.”

Crap.

“What?” Marinette and Chat Noir said in unison, though Marinette’s surprise was more directed towards the implication of Chat Noir’s identity.

“No wonder Felix decided to betray me as Le Paon. He must have been worried for your sake. It had nothing to do with this girl!”

Chat Noir furrowed his eyebrows. So much emotion was swirling across his brother’s features- hurt, confusion, denial. Felix could barely stand it. 

“Wait..” He faltered, looking at Felix with a torn expression. “You’re Le Paon?”

“Don’t listen to him!” Felix begged, pushing himself to get up. He had to stop this. Adrien learning about Mother’s true condition was already a fragile subject in and of itself. Learning about Felix and Gabriel’s identities as the terrorists of Paris was bound to be too much. It would overwhelm anyone.

Before Felix could intervene, however, Father did the unthinkable. He detransformed. Right there. In front of everyone.

Felix couldn’t see his face, but Father’s tone was disturbingly pleased as he said, “Would I lie to you, Adrien?”

Chat Noir collapsed to the floor, staring up at their Father in horror. “No..”

“Adrien?” Marinette blanched. The surprise was a tad out of place considering the emotional turmoil that Adrien had to be going through, but Felix understood.

Unfortunately, so did Father. Saying Adrien’s name wasn’t merely for dramatic effect. He knew that Marinette and Adrien were friends in civilian form. That kind of reveal would knock her off her feet just long enough for him to detransform like he did.

Gabriel smiled at Chat Noir’s reaction, and Felix knew right then and there that he’d been played for a fool. This miraculous search was never about family. No father who truly cared for their family would smile at their child’s suffering.

Gabriel transformed again as Chat Noir was on his knees- on his knees! -and created an akuma. Felix jumped forward to stop it or get in the way, but Nathalie wrapped her yo-yo around his waist, planting him to the spot. Marinette was still too shocked to react quickly enough, so the akuma flitted forward, unbothered, and merged with Chat Noir’s bell.

“No!” Felix yelled. He jerked his body forward, pulling at the yo-yo string and pushing ahead with all of the strength he had. “Adrien, don’t do it! Resist him!”

His shouting finally snapped Marinette out of her trance, and she rushed to Chat’s side. 

“Chat, it’s okay!” She tried to console despite the panic leaking through her voice. “We can get through this! Just fight it!”

“Against my Father?” Chat Noir whimpered back.

“Chat Blanc.”

Felix and Marinette held their breath when the purple outline appeared on Chat Noir’s face. Marinette threw one of her fans at Gabriel, but he easily dodged it as it twirled around the room to come back to her.

“Your brother is trying to decieve you, and your partner has misled you. I am trying to revive Emily, but to do that, I need your miraculous to do that.”

Chat Noir squeezed his eyes shut and drew his knees close to his chest, trying to drown out the words. 

Marinette wrapped her arms around him. “Adrien, Minou, Kitty, please! Don’t listen to him! Come back to me.”

“Help me fight for you Mother, Adrien.” Gabriel persisted. “We can bring her back together. We can be a family again.”

“We can.. We can bring her back?”

Felix’s heart sank. “Adrien, no!”

“Don’t do it!” Marinette pleaded.

“All I need is your cooperation.” Gabriel promised.

A tear slipped down Chat Noir’s cheek, and his purple mask dropped long enough for him to look Marinette in the eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“No!”

“Adrien!”

Black and purple bubbles swallowed Chat Noir whole, and Marinette scrambled backwards. When the bubbles disappeared, Chat Noir was gone, and Chat Blanc was left sitting there. His suit was the same as Chat Noir’s, except it was stark white and his green eyes were replaced with a chilling, ice blue. 

Felix tensed as Adrien slowly stood up and lifted his hand towards Marinette.

“My lady..” He said, forming a ball of light at the end of his finger tips. Felix didn’t want to see what that did. “Please.. stand down and give me your miraculous. I have to save my mother.”

Marinette held up a hand as well, but it was in a calming gesture. “Adrien, I’m trying to save your mother! I have the power to heal her, but I need my miraculous back!”

Chat stalled, proving he had some of his sense left. “You can?”

Felix jerked forward again, but Nathalie kept him in the same place. “It’s true! Gabriel won’t give us Ladybug’s miraculous back because he wants to use the wish instead of letting Marinette heal her by herself!”

Gabriel glanced at Felix when he didn’t call him ‘Father’, but Felix kept his gaze on Adrien. If Gabriel thought that Felix would consider him anything close to family after this, he was more demented that Felix thought.

Chat turned his ball of light to Gabriel. “Is that true?”

“Of course not!” Gabriel spat. “They’re lying! They only want the earrings back to keep us from the wish!”

“No!” Felix protested. “The wish has a curse to it! If we use it to heal Mother, someone else will take her place and become comatose just like her! M- er -Ladybug can heal her without that consequence!”

“Everything they say is a lie!” Gabriel yelled. “They’re only trying to manipulate you!”

“Adrien, you know me!” Marinette tried again. “We’ve been partners for months, confided in each other, and risked our lives for each other. Please, I would never try to manipulate you, Minou.” 

Chat Blanc turned his ever-increasing ball of light from Felix, to Marinette, to Gabriel. His face grew more conflicted and grieved with each statement. They were all shouting at him and making it worse, but Felix couldn’t help pleading. He didn’t want Adrien to do something he would regret, and Marinette was so close to him..

Felix’s blood ran cold when Chat Blanc finally broke from the pressure.

“Stop it, stop it, STOP IT!” He screamed, jerking his hand downwards. In his loss of concentration, the ball of light shot from his fingertips, slamming right into the floor. It broke a hole straight to the basement within seconds, but the decay didn’t stop there. The rust spread to the rest of the main floor, covering every inch except the steps, the library, and the office that Felix was standing in. The ground crumbled beneath them, taking Gabriel, Marinette, and Adrien with it. 

“No!” Felix yelled, his heart stopping in his chest. His last fight with the slime monster flashed through his mind, when the debri and dust from the rooftop fell on top of him before everything went dark. How far was the main floor from the basement? Would Marinette survive the fall? Would anyone survive the fall? Would they live through the debri that came after?

Felix whirled around and swung his foot through the air, catching the yo-yo string and stomping it to the ground. Nathalie, shell-shocked from seeing Gabriel fall, fell forward again, and Felix took that lenience in grip to slip out of the yo-yo string and run for the opening. 

Dust was flying everywhere now. He could hardly take a breath without coughing, let alone see clearly enough to find survivors. That didn’t stop him from kneeling on the ground and shouting for Marinette, though. She had to be somewhere. She would call up to him, perfectly fine, and everything would be alright.

So why couldn’t he hear anything?

Felix’s throat tightened as he screamed. He screamed her name over and over again into the abyss and didn’t hear a darned thing. It was silent, save for the occasionally crumbling of the debri below, and he was terrified. Where was she- Where was she? No, no, no, no-

“MARINETTE!!”

Panicked and sick to his stomach with worry, Felix shot to his feet and turned to Nathalie, who had just started to recover from his sudden escape. She was the only one left that had a miraculous. The same miraculous that might be able to save Marinette and Adrien if Felix could get his hands on it in time. 

Nathalie barely caught a glimpse of his fist flying towards her face when he lunged at her.

~~~~~~

The room swayed in the darkness. Debri crumbled around her, yet it sounded distant, similar to an echo. Marinette drew in a breath, but immediately coughed it back out. The air was thick with dust, too thick. 

She opened her eyes, hoping to make out her surroundings amidst the tan clouds around her. A large stream of light poured down on her from the gaping hole in the floor above her. Unfortunately, it was too clouded for her to see anything past the hole.

A voice floated down from above, but it was too faint to make out. She laid there for a moment, waiting to hear it again. 

Nothing.

Marinette sat up despite her body’s aching protest and scanned the room again. A few chunks of debri were scattered around her, but she had thankfully been untouched, aside from hitting the ground, that is. She curled her fingers together, feeling the gaps and patterns of the metal walkway underneath her. Where was she? Had they fallen to a basement of some sort?

“Felix?” She called out, a mix of hopeful and concerned towards what she might hear in response. Did he get caught in the fall too? He didn’t have a miraculous to protect him like they did. What if he’d gotten seriously injured?

“Adrien!” She called next. It might not be the smartest idea, but akumatized or not, she wanted to make sure that her partner was alright. There was also the possibility that the fall broke his akumatized item.

Her calls were only met with silence. 

Beep! Beep!

Marinette looked down at her miraculous, barely catching sight of the last feather leaving the fan before she detransformed. 

Duusu fell into her lap, looking absolutely exhausted. “Sorry, Miss Marinette.. Keeping you safe from injury takes a lot of work.”

Marinette offered a smile and softly petted the top of the kwami’s head. “It’s alright, Duusu. You’ve done plenty.”

Cupping the kwami in her palms, Marinette pushed herself to her feet and looked around. The dust was finally starting clear a bit, just enough for her to make out the room she’d fallen into. A grated, metal pathway led from the piled debri behind her to a small, garden-looking area up ahead. A flickering light above revealed some sort of casing in the middle of the greenery, also untouched by the caved in floor.

Curious, Marinette wandered towards it. The sides of the case shone as bright gold under that flickering lights, and the glass on top gave a white glare, making it hard to see through at first. 

It’s strange, She thought, to put such a large and beautiful case in a basement where no one will see it.

Why go through the trouble of making it at all? Was it simply not finished? 

She cupped her free hand on the glass and peered inside. Whatever this held- if anything -had to be extremely important. The flickering light didn’t help her to identify anything. It only allowed her to gather bits and pieces at a time. Something white was inside.. An outfit? It looked like a manikin was wearing it. But then she noticed hair. Golden hair that looked exactly like Adrian’s. And the face..

Marinette almost dropped Duusu from shock. 

“Emilie!” She gasped, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. Had Mlle. Agreste been here this whole time? Who keeps someone locked up like this? 

“Well, Mlle. Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette whipped around, pushing herself against the case from reflex. Gabriel stood in front of her, somehow still transformed, and he had a horribly malicious grin on his lips. 

The debri must have missed him too.

“Now you truly know all of my secrets.” He mused, gesturing to the glass coffin behind her. “But I see it has cost you.”

Marinette held Duusu closer to her chest. She scanned the room behind Gabriel, but didn’t see Chat Blanc anywhere. “Where’s Adrien?”

Gabriel raised an uncaring brow. “I’m sure he’ll find his way back to the fight soon enough.”

Marinette shot him a glare. “How can you say that? He’s your son! Don’t you care about his well being at all?”

What if he’s hurt? Or worse, dead! She doesn’t have her miraculous to bring him back this time!

Gabriel scoffed. “The sooner you stop resisting, the sooner he will be healed with the miraculous. It’s ludicrous to care about injuries when they are easily reversible.”

“He still goes through the pain!” She couldn’t help yelling. “What about that?”

“He’ll forget the pain.” Gabriel snapped back. “After all, it’s only temporary.” 

Marinette grit her teeth, but when she opened her mouth to reply-

“You would think that.” A voice took the words right from her mouth. 

She looked up just in time to see someone swing in from the main floor. Although she couldn’t make out the face, Marinette recognized the voice immediately.

“Felix!” She cried, relief filling her chest. He must have avoided the fall. And he had her miraculous!

“Marinette.” He replied almost instantly, pure relief leaking through his tone as well.

Gabriel scowled at the boy as he entered their vision. A black and red costume indeed covered his body, signifying the fact that he was the new wielder of the Ladybug miraculous. 

“Where’s Nathalie?” Gabriel barked.

Felix pulled one of the two yo-yos off of his waist- why didn’t she ever think of having two yo-yos? -and smirked. “Safe. And out of your reach.”

Marinette smiled at the mocking comment, but Gabriel was less than amused. He sprang forward with a growl, causing Felix to jump back so he could keep the distance between them. Marinette remembered having to fall back to use her weapons properly. She always hated leaving Chat at the front lines, but long distance was her best vantage point when it came to yo-yos.

Felix swung both yo-yos in two perfect circles at his side as he moved backwards. As soon as he got the chance to pause in his movements, he threw the first yo-yo forward and latched it onto Gabriel’s staff, easily wrapping around it in a tight hold. Gabriel smirked at the supposed attack and yanked back on the staff to draw Felix forward, but Felix, expecting the reaction, immediately let go of the first yo-yo and threw his other yo-yo forward, quickly wrapping it around Gabriel’s arms and rendering them useless. He then dug his feet into the ground and pulled as hard as he could. 

Gabriel yelped as he flew towards him, and with the new momentum, Felix literally swung Gabriel in a circle around the room. Marinette watched with wide eyes as the man crashed into a few debri piles. If she didn’t know any better, she might have thought that Felix had been using the Ladybug Miraculous all along. His movements were planned and meticulous. Even as he threw Gabriel back onto the metal walkway right in front of her, Marinette stood still, not feeling the need to flinch. It was glaringly obvious that Felix knew what he was doing.

“Give up.” Felix ordered, pulling the yo-yo string tighter around Gabriel as he stepped closer. “This battle is over.”

Gabriel, through coughs, looked up to sneer at Felix. Marinette thought he was going to go on a rant about disloyalty or vengeance, but, strangely, his head only cocked to the side slightly. 

“Yes, I believe it is.” He replied, his voice bone-chillingly gleeful.

Marinette’s gaze snapped upwards, just behind Felix where Gabriel was looking. A white figure had appeared in the dust and debri, standing with their arm raised directly at her and Felix.

Her eyes widened. 

“FELIX, LOOK-”

It was too late. The white blast of light hit the metal grate directly to their left, causing a destructive blast that pushed all three of them back. Gabriel took Felix’s imbalance as an opportunity to escape his bounds and scramble away from them. Marinette, however, groaned from the backlash of the blast and rubbed her head. Was there supposed to be a high-pitched ringing in her ears?

Through squinting eyes, she tried to search for a way out, all while fighting back a fresh headache. With Chat Blanc on his feet and fighting again and with Duusu still resting in her hand, Felix had no chance of winning this fight, especially now that Gabriel was free.

A hand gently grabbed her shoulder, and she looked up to see Felix next to her.

“Marinette.” He whispered, looking her over for injuries.

“Felix.” Marinette sighed in relief, putting her hand on his. He’s okay.

Felix glanced over at Chat Blanc, who was quickly approaching. “I need to get you out of here.”

Marinette’s grip on his hand tightened. “I’m not leaving you.”

“Yes!” Gabriel cheered before Felix could reply. 

Maniacal laughter erupted from the man as he spread his arms out wide. “Well done, Adrien! Now, help your Father bring our family together again and get their miraculous!”

Marinette pulled Felix closer, preparing for the worst. If she was to truly die during this battle, at least his face would be the last thing she sees.

Chat Blanc, who had walked fully into the light at this point, stopped a few feet from Gabriel. His eyes bore into the man, blank and soulless. 

Marinette’s hand dug into Felix’s, and they exchanged glances. Something wasn’t right. Before the fall, Adrien had been showing the most conflict and emotion she’d ever seen in her life, but now he looked.. He looked empty, hollow.. gone.

Slowly, Chat Blanc raised his hand again, this time aiming his blast right at Gabriel. “I have no father.”

A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine, and Felix sucked in a breath next to her. Whoever stood in front of them now, it wasn’t Adrien.

Gabriel staggered back a step, pure terror in his voice as he stuttered, “W-What?”

Chat Blanc stepped forward, the ball of light growing in his hand.

“Don’t worry.” He remarked, his tone completely devoid of emotion. “After all, ‘Pain is only temporary’.. Right?”

The ball of light shot from his fingertips, hitting Gabriel directly in the chest. Gabriel opened his mouth to scream, but the decay swallowed him whole before his voice could even reach the air. Marinette gasped, watching Gabriel’s ashes fall to the floor. Did that really just happen? 

Chat Blanc stared at the pile of dust, not an ounce of regret on his face. Marinette noticed that there wasn’t any satisfaction in his expression either. 

He looked up, locking eyes with her, and Marinette tensed. Felix leaned forward enough to put a protective arm in front of her. Chat Blanc, noticing the shift, glanced at Felix as well. Then he started to move towards them, his steps slow and dragged out. 

“Easy, there..” Felix muttered, bringing his yo-yo forward. 

Marinette held her breath. If he could kill Gabriel- gosh, he killed him! -then he could get rid of them just as easily.

Chat Blanc stopped in front of them, his eyes still focused on Marinette. She met his gaze, not daring to look away. 

If you’re anywhere in there, Adrien, please.. 

Suddenly, Chat Blanc dropped to his knees, rattling the metal walkway. Marinette flinched, but didn’t back away. In fact, she found herself reaching forward. He looked so broken, so lost..

“Please..” He croaked, a single tear streaming down his cheek. “Save me.”

Marinette’s heart shattered at the words, and she brushed his tear away. “Of course, kitty.”

She looked to Felix, who nodded and stood up. He quickly called his lucky charm, and on queue, Marinette broke the bell around Adrien’s neck. The akuma fluttered out, and Felix slung his yo-yo forward to capture it.

“Oh, wait one second.” Marinette spoke up, grabbing his arm before he could throw the miraculous cure.

Felix gave her a questioning look, and she gestured to the pile of ash behind her. 

“I have to get something.”

With a quickness, for Chat’s sake, Marinette hopped over to Gabriel’s- er -remains and knelt down next to them. She cringed as she reached forward, pushing through the uneasiness to move the ash around. It had to be there somewhere..

“Ah- hah!” She sat up, taking the butterfly miraculous with her. Master Fu had mentioned a while back that the miraculous were indestructible, and Marinette didn’t want Gabriel to keep his powers when he was resurrected. That would be like falling into a torturous loop of fighting, especially since Chat won’t remember anything when the cure is cast.

“Okay.” She said, jumping back over to Felix with the miraculous in hand. “Do it.”

Felix nodded and threw the lucky charm into the air. Marinette closed her eyes as the Ladybugs washed over her, allowing a small smile to spread across her lips. She’d always wondered what it would be like to be on the other side of this.

“Don’t worry.” She whispered to Chat Blanc, running her hands through his snow white hair during their last moments together. “I promise you’re gonna be okay.”

We all are.

Tag List:  @im-here-for-the-content @novicevoice @mewwitch@minightrose @starlit-winter @multishipper1needshalp@unabashedbookworm @unholykrow @trubel43@kaydenth3gayden @stardustrevoutionx @legendaryneckjudgestudent @aurordraws @crazylittlemunchkin @uwuteamleader @chocolatecustarddanish @iambi-thilla-meena @corabeth11 @asianfrustration13  @chrismarium @agumon1123 @luciferge @yue-caelum @persephonebutkore @constancetruggle @make-the-stars-stay @johnlockfeelz @imfreakingmagical @tinybrie @procrastinatingrightnow @bee-wrecker @dontcallmecedge @shadowhex99 @daminette-is-life @thethirdwheelfriend @myazael @sizzling-fairy-oil @sparkle9510 @chaosace​ @the-navistar-carol​ @sannsibarr​ @grumpy-vixen-kitten​ @hauntedfreakdeputyhero​ @utcaro​ @more-or-less-human-i-guess @mlbutatbspofsalt @dawn-the-rithmatist @artcart0n @mermaidreject @tori-mmm  @fifaanayd  @novicevoice  @dreamykitty25 @mischief-not-managed-posts @amayakans  @arsaem  @athena452 @pink-and-bunny @wannajointhecrabcult @theymakeupfairies

[the-iron-orchid]

Ficlet: Intrusive Thoughts

Just some hurt/comfort fluff, because really you’ve got to take your Needs into your own hands lol. I may or may not follow this up with a related smut...

Pairing: Jinana/Julian

Warnings: mild existential crisis

Synopsis: The power dynamics of the relationship between Jinana and Julian are not nearly so one-sided as it may sometimes seem.

I feel like I’ve known you for years.

Calling me Master is beneath you.

Something that walks in the shape of a dead magician...

I do not know what has triggered it, only that these things echo in my brain. These and other terrible things, filling me with doubt, causing me to fear.

I don’t think I can hide it from Julian, nor should I wish to, I suppose. We promised to be there for each other, never to hide things from each other, even with the intent to protect.

We’re stronger together.

But he isn’t home right now. He’s away at the Palace, along with Asra, and the thoughts gnaw at the inside of my head. I consider going to find Heron, cursing my inability to Send him a magical message. Instead, I curl up inside my shawl in the big armchair, finding some small measure of comfort in its familiarity.

I wish Faust were here, or even Malak. But I am alone.

If I can hold out for just half an hour… if Julian isn’t home by then, I will go and seek out Heron, I tell myself. I rock myself slightly, but it’s hard to ease the existential dread when it appears, rising unwanted from the depths of my brain.

What am I, really? Am I truly Jñāna Seraphina Aditya, or am I something else, something other, something that took hir form, hir memories… hir loved ones?

Julian has told me that bodies don’t count for much in the long run. We replace ourselves constantly, bit by bit. As in the riddle of the axe, when do we stop being who we once were? Who can tell? We are forever in flux.

But what of the essence, the consciousness, the soul? Am I only something that Asra trained to be an echo of his lost lover, a simulacrum?

I know that it upsets Julian to find me like this; to his mind, I am the strong one. But sometimes, my strength cannot hold against the great weight that swamps me, the mystery of my continued existence, the great void that comprises nearly thirty years of my life.

The sound of the key in the lock startles me out of my rumination, and I hear a familiar voice through the door, along with frantic croaking.

“Malak, calm down!” The door opens, and the raven bursts inside, making a beeline for the back of the chair. He lands, stamping about, making soft raspy sounds, and leans down to preen at my hair.

“Jinana?” Julian closes the door behind him, and closes the distance in a few long strides, kneeling in front of the chair. “Darling, are you all right?” He grips my shoulder with one gloved hand, lifts it to cradle my cheek.

The concern on his face humbles me. “I’m… just having a bad night, that’s all,” I manage to say, with a weak smile.

“My love, you should have sent for me! I’m sure Nadia would have understood.” He clucks, rises, and gathers me into his arms, shawl and all, lifting me from the chair like a child. He seats himself there, placing me on his lap, and kisses me on the forehead. “What’s troubling you, dearest?”

I shake my head. “It’s… the usual, really. It’s very stupid.”

“It’s not stupid at all,” he says, with mock-severity. “You have had traumatic experiences, it’s only natural that there are going to be... effects.”

I turn my face against his chest, breathing in the scent of night air and his own scent: leather and the faint amber-musk halo of the scent he wears. “I know. It just… it always sounds ridiculous, when I say it aloud.”

I take a deep breath, let it out, and Julian plants a kiss on the top of my head before I continue. “I just… I guess I was thinking too much. About how you and Heron and Asra… I don’t doubt that you all care for me, very much. But I can’t help thinking… I’m not that person anymore, the one you all cared for in the first place. I can’t help but feel like I gained everyone’s affection on… false pretenses. Is it really even me that you love?” I hide my face entirely against his jacket, trying to stop the tears from coming.

“Oh, Jinana.” There’s a sad sort of humor in Julian’s tone. I feel him moving, hear the rustle of his gloves, and then his bare hand smoothes over my hair. “Do you know the first time it occurred to me that I was falling in love with you?”

I shake my head, and he chuckles. “Well. It was in the library, the day you came to rescue me from drowning myself in Salty Bitters. At first, I thought you were a drunken hallucination. I’d cried so much that I could barely see you, my eyes were almost swollen shut.” I feel him shake his head. “But in the library… when you were able to overlook my stupidity, when you were able to forgive me for hurting you like that…” His voice is becoming rough, and he sighs heavily. “When you, by some miracle, still wanted me… that was the first time I thought, maybe this is what being in love is like.” His arms squeeze me against him, trembling a little.

“And when you wouldn’t leave my side, even though it could have meant hanging right next to me… I knew it was true. That you really did care for me… and that I could no more avoid falling for you than I could have avoided gravity.”

“I wanted to tell you, but the time never seemed right… and my fears seemed so large. I wanted to tell you that night outside my sister’s cottage, while the fireflies surrounded us. I wanted to tell you right there on that witness stand, in the dungeon under the Coliseum… but I was afraid. Afraid it would frighten you in turn, that it would be too much, too soon. I always have been ‘too much’, you see. Too dramatic, never to be taken seriously in these things.” He snorts lightly, but I can sense the old pain, there.

“But you see… I wanted to tell you that I loved you long before I even remembered that we had once known each other before. I’ve come to know you far better in our time now than I ever did four years ago. I love you for what you are now, and whatever you may become. I love you for being you, just as you are.”

This little speech of his, spoken without a single stumble or hesitation, re-awakens the sense I had once before, even as the Devil’s chains burned and suffocated us: that the feeling between us could support the entire world.

I wind my arms around the back of his neck, his curls tickling my skin, and rise up to bury my face in the place between his neck and shoulder. I am shivering, but his arms hold me tightly, and his hands run soothingly over my back. 

“I’m sorry to put you through this right after coming home,” I mumble against his skin, and he chuckles.

“I told you, darling… I hate not pulling my weight. If I can do this for you, if I can help you to feel better at all, then I’m happy to do so, whenever you need me. Because I love you, and I’ll say it a thousand times if you want me to. Maybe even if you don’t want me to.” He laughs. “And, well… sometimes the best way to get out of your own head is to focus on the body.” He is in earnest, but he cannot stop the faintly lascivious curl to his lips. “A cup of tea, a hot bath, maybe… dare I say it?”

“Of course you do,” I say, and a smile curves my lips, too.

“As much pleasure as you can stand from your lover, who is only too eager to please?”

We both laugh, and he rises from the chair to carry me up the stairs, ready to put this plan of care into motion.

[spoopyredacted]

unheavenly creatures

chapter one

clan leader mand’alor!din x shayr’la (ofc) 2.8k!

masterlist / moodboard / pinboard

chapter two

description: Mand’alor Vizsla is the current leader of his planet. Shayr’la’s home plant has been under attack for several years from pirates and such of the like. Her leaders, a group calling themselves Elders, have come up with a pact with the mandalorians to give Shayr’la in marriage, to the Mand’alor, in exchange for a life long protection. The mandalorian lineage is in need of heirs and her planet is in need of protection, what better kind of pact could there be? But the Mand’alor is not what she expected. The entire situation is not what she expected.

a/n: Vizsla is the overarching clan name, underneath there are the different family names but they are mainly kept a secret to outsiders. this was inspired by the art located here. i wanna thank tiffany for being amazing and reading over this for me. i love her and if you aren’t reading the light of stars you need to like rn.

The soft tap of Shayr’la’s shoes echo and bounce along the walls, getting lost on the way up to the vast ceiling above. Painted across them she catches snippets of a story, a story that she is very familiar with. That everyone is familiar with.

Of how Mand’alor Vizsla claimed his throne. How he stormed this very palace with his Mandalorian army, taking it back from the grips of the Empire. He slaughtered the troopers who fought against him, placing their helmets on spikes and scattered them throughout his land as a warning to others who dared attack. The strength and ruthlessness of that besiege told the rest of the galaxy that Vizsla was not someone to provoke into battle.

Panic begins to set in the closer they draw to the throne room doors. Slowing her pace, an icy chill goes through her veins and takes a strong grip on her lungs; her breath faltering. Shayr’la was here for a reason— a purpose— to help.

But to help whom?

That answer is slowly fading from her mind the closer she gets to the doors. She doesn’t want to do this. You have no choice. She doesn’t want to marry him. This isn’t your decision. She doesn’t want to be left alone with this man, with this warrior, for the rest of her life.

What if he is cruel?

It’s not your decision.

What if he is selfish?

Not your choice.

What if he hates her? What if he ignores her?

No. Choice.

Shayr’la doesn’t realize she’s stopped walking until there is a thud directly behind her. It’s the guard escort halting in place. She turns to look at them wide-eyed and scared, willing them to show her any empathy, any emotion, any help.

Anything.

They don’t.

They just stand at attention, helmet pointed straight ahead, clad in armor, spear held tight in gloved hands— cold— distant— unfeeling.

She doesn’t know how she’s going to make it here.

Further ahead the Elder still hasn’t taken notice that Shayr’la is no longer following behind them. They never notice, they never care. To them she is just a bargaining tool. Just another means to an end. Another way to get what they want. She watches as they make it to the throne room doors and turn to speak, finally realizing her absence.

“What are you doing?” The Elder gives a harsh whisper, “Get over here.”

Taking a deep breath she steadies herself.

This is happening.

This is happening no matter what.

Shayr’la straightens her posture and rights her mind, she knows the only way she will make it through this is by remembering what she was told. Do not speak unless spoken to, do not question the Mand’alor, and most importantly, do not look upon the Mandalorian warriors without their helmets.

Finally, she moves, the guard in step behind her, guiding her towards the inevitable, and the unstoppable, the harsh reality of her future.

Towards her ending.

Towards her beginning.

———

The first thing her eyes are drawn to is the many white trooper helmets that litter the ground around the throne chair itself. There are helmets lining the steps up, and around the back of the chair and there are some on spikes around the throne and some cascading down from the ceiling. A rush of fear sweeps through her body as she takes in her surroundings. Is everywhere here this intimidating? If this place is to be her home, she is going to have to get used to it quickly, if she wants to survive— let alone be happy.

Caught up in her own thoughts, Shayr’la doesn’t hear the Elder as they greet the man residing on the throne chair, nor how they continue praising him— on his generosity of protection and allowing this trade to happen, of his superiority in everything compared to her people, and of his blood-thirstiness in battle that leaves his enemies dead— or worse.

“Mand’alor Vizsla, I must say we are eternally grateful that you have accepted this offer; We know she will not disappoint. We can assure you that she will make you very happy and bring you many, many children.” As the Elder speaks they grab her arm tightly turning and bringing her attention towards the front, Shayr’la lets out a small squeak of surprise at the harsh and unexpected movement.

Finally looking up at the man she is being traded off to, she can feel her heartbeat stop in her chest. Her gaze travels all over him, taking him in, his arms and legs are splayed out on this throne and she can’t help but be captivated by his presence— his strong sense of power and confidence that practically rolls off of him— she’s drawn to it, in ways she’d rather not admit too.

He’s dressed for a fight— or maybe that’s how they always dress here, she isn’t sure. Coming out of the sides of his helmet are the tusks of a mythosaur and on his back is a great fur cape, making him look like some kind of ferocious beast ready to devour her whole. He’s holding a weapon—a spear, in his right hand, and at the noise she makes, his grip tightens ever so slightly around it.

“You see,” The Elder took a step forward placing Shayr’la in front of them. The feeling of being exposed and watched is ever more present, not only from the man sitting in front of her but from the warriors surrounding them in the hall as well. Even though she could not see his face, she could feel his hard gaze as it drifts up and down her body, taking in the way her dress clings to her, he leaves a fiery trail with his gaze one that he could follow later, if she allowed. “Her hips—”

“Uur.”

Stopping the Elder before they could say something truly embarrassing, the Mand’alor stands and makes his way towards her, his helmet never leaving her person. Shayr’la was mesmerized by him, by his movement, by his confidence. He wasn’t much taller than she was but the way he held himself and he walked with purpose and power, made him seem like a giant. And that power only came from leading— From leading and fighting and taking what he needed and what he wanted, and no one surviving the wrath he brought with him.

He approaches her, taking a slow turn around her, taking in the way her white dress clings to the curves of her body, only to be slightly covered by the shawl she’s wearing on top, it was as if a hunter was stalking his prey, slow and meticulous, he was studying her— judging her— exposing her. Whether he was pleased or not they could not tell.

As he came back around, stopping in front of her, Shayr’la could see several necklaces lay across his armored chest. One held a pendent of a Mythosaur, another looked to have several teeth hanging from it, and the last one was simply a few beads knotted in sections but at the base of it was a large green bead.

“Ba’slanar.” Despite the modulation from the helmet, his voice is rich and deep. He sounds nothing like she expected, but then again she didn’t know what to expect from him.

The Elder continues to stand behind her, unsure of what was said or what to do.

“Ba’slanar.” He growled out, hand tightening on the spear.

The guard, who escorted the two of them to the room, stepped forward, grabbed ahold of the Elder's arm, and led them back out to the hallway. She could make out the beginning of a question from the Elder as they left, “Is he satisfied? He will still uphold—” From there Shayr’la doesn’t know where they’ve gone too, she just hopes she never has to see the Elder again. Or at least not for a very long time.

The sound of the door closing startles her out of her study of the Mand’alor. Flustered at being caught staring, she closes her eyes and tries to steady herself for when, if, she is addressed.

With her eyes closed she doesn’t see how the Mand’alor takes a step closer, still not touching her but she could feel his body heat radiating off of him. She doesn’t see how his hand comes up to almost touch— almost trace up the slope of her throat leading into the curve of her jaw. And she especially doesn't see how he takes in as much detail as he can. He’s drinking her in— like a man dying of thirst in the sands and she is his only oasis.

The soft feel of his leather gloves traces over her cheek down to her chin, where he tilts her head up to face him. The gentleness of it causes Shayr’la to stutter in her breath, and yet she still can’t bring herself to open her eyes. She feels unable to face the man behind the helmet.

Unable to face her future.

“Haa’tavlir sha ni.” She doesn’t know what he’s asking. But even so it’s not that hard to infer what he is saying, and she knows. Taking a deep breath, she finally glances up at the man who is to be her future husband. Who is to be her leader and her savior, regardless if she wanted him to be or not.

“I… I don’t understand. I’m— I’m sorry.” Stumbling over her words she sees his head tilt to the side, studying her. His grip is still steadily holding her chin.

“This is your home now Ka’ra,” Ka’ra? What—what is that? Me? “Do not wander for you are safe here. But, do not get in the way.” With his statement, he lets go of her chin, gives her a small tilt of his helmet to which she assumes is a nod, and he walks out of the room.

———

Shayr’la has been with the clan for at least two months and she can count on one hand how many times she’s actually spoken with Mand’alor Vizsla. It wasn’t that the two of them hadn't seen each other, hadn’t been in the same room, hadn’t run into each other when she would wander around the place. It was more that he never spoke when they did. Ever. Or to hardly anyone. And when he did it was always in short sentences direct and to the point.

The first time he had spoken to her, only a week after the initial arrival, Shayr’la was in the story hall studying the paintings on the walls— papers, and books, and data packs covering the floor around her. She wanted to understand the conquering, and the history of the Mandalorian people, she wanted to write it all down and help pass it along to the next generation. She wanted to know about the people she would eventually help lead.

Maybe one day.

She was so deep into her translations and her work, that when the Mand’alor spoke up from behind her she let out a small yelp in surprise, “Ka’ra,” his voice raspy and harsh coming from behind the helmet, “I have sent a squadron to help protect your planet. They will arrive there shortly and speak with the Elders.”

Shayr’la looked up to him from her spot on the floor, he stood tall over her, hands clasped behind his back, “Thank you,” she replied softly to him. With a quick nod of his helmet, he turned and began to walk away, but as she watched him leave, he only managed to go a few steps before stopping and he quietly asked, “May I sit here with you?”

“Yes.”

———

He hadn’t come back to sit with her in the story hall since that first week and Shayr’la couldn’t tell if she was happy or upset by it. But the more she pondered it the more it kept creeping up into her mind throughout the days, and that alone was making her go mad.

Today she had planned on getting lost in one of the many battles depicted on the walls. The image of the Manda’lor wielding a giant gun, cocked at his hips, both hands gripping it tightly while taking out an entire group of empire troopers on the tops of buildings. She was looking forward to finally getting to record the story down on paper. It is an impressive painting and she's sure it’s an even more impressive story.

Does he not want to get to know me?

Stop thinking about it.

Do I even want to get to know him?

Stop it.

Shayr’la is so lost in her own thoughts of the Mand’alor that she doesn’t realize she’s completely walked past her destination and instead has ended up walking to the entrance to one of the outdoor training yards.

The sounds of clashing and shouts draw her attention to the several mandalorians that are locked in an intense fight in the middle of the yard.

As she moves into the courtyard, a small breeze sweeps through the area, ruffling her curls and the edges of her dress, causing her to clutch tighter to her data pack held close to her chest. She moves against one of the walls lined with various weapons, recognizing some and not others, but she quickly turns her attention back to the four mandalorians sparring.

There is a single mandalorian in the middle of the group, it looks as if they are losing ground and are being pinned down by the others. But with a movement too fast for Shayr’la to see, they swipe the feet out of one mandalorian, putting them flat on their back— dust billowing out from around them. Pushing out against the other two, you realize the mandalorian in the center is Manda’lor Vizsla.

He grips onto one of his still standing opponents, swiping his forearm across their masked face, knocking them back and down a few paces. He turns quickly towards the others still standing, with a punch to the gut they stumble over giving him the opportunity to kick them hard in their sternum, knocking them onto their back, the mandalorian lets out a groan when their helmet bounces against the ground.

Shayr’la has never seen someone move so effencently and with such precision that she finds herself mesmerized by him. Her eyes follow his smooth movements and transitions as he continues fighting.

It’s beautiful and utterly breathtaking to watch him. The Mand’alor looks as if he was born to do this with how he moves through the air.

Born to fight.

Born to conquer.

Born to lead.

Do I want to get to know him?

Y— No.

One of the mandalorians lands a heavy blow with a spear against the back of the Mand’alor and as he topples over face first into the ground Shayr’la lets out a noise of concern. He lets out a faint curse she barely hears, but when he lifts his helmet she can tell they’ve locked eyes from the way he freezes.

They both freeze— is she even allowed to be here?

“Brokar gar,” the mandalorian who had hit him with the spear spoke up, holding the spear at the back of his helmet. Panting from the excursion of the fight and beginning to relax at the thought of being finished and the victor. The other two stepping back afraid of what will happen.

If Shayr’la hadn’t already been staring at the Mand’alor then she would have missed what happened next. He grabs the spear, yanking hard, throwing the mandalorian off balance causing them to fall. With the momentum of the fall, they switch positions, the Mand’alor flips him over onto his back, placing his knee firmly onto his chest and with a spin of the spear he then points it at the fumbling mandalorian beneath him.

“Yield.” He doesn’t even sound out of breath when he speaks.

“Yield.”

The Mand’alor removes his knee and throws the spear to the ground, giving a hand he pulls the mandalorian up to his feet, “Jate,” he nods in dismissal. By the time he looks back over to the wall where she was standing he sees she’s gone. Looking around quickly, still not seeing her, he walks through the archway to see if he can see where she wandered off too.

There. She’s walking back towards the story hall, her shawl billowing out behind her, the colors and patterns mesmerizing as the sun catches it through the passing windows. As if she can feel his watchful stare she comes to a slow stop, half turning around, bright sun falling on her, and he finds himself thinking he likes the way her brown skin seems to glow and appear soft to the touch.

He would like to find out.

Shayr’la feels her face heat up under his intense observation, but before it becomes too unbearable, she sees him give a slight nod and take a few steps back into the courtyard.

But she hasn’t moved yet.

And he knows.

And he hasn’t either.

They don’t know what to make of each other.

Yet.

————

Uur - silence

Ba’slanar - leave

Haa’taylir sha ni - look at me

Ka’ra - stars

Brokar gar - beat you

Jate - good

tags: @wrestlingfae @helplessly-nonstop @spookyold-saintjm @amarvelousmandalorian @opheliaelysia @tiffdawg @tintinwrites @damndamer0n @softpedropascal @himbopoes @and-claudia @californiakoenig @thesefleshfailures @akanthonarose @le-roman-rose @buckstaposition @mandoplease @leo-moon @sarcasmisakindofmagic @grapemama @hdlynn (idk why i couldn’t tag two of yall! i’m sorry!)

[detroitbydark]

Chp 13

Characters: Commander Fox x Mouse (reader), and more Jedi/clones/politicians than you can shake a stick at.

Summary: that one time Padme throws a big party, Bly cracks jokes, fox hates himself some more, mouse wears matching underwear, and Anakin has a heart to heart.

A/N: Snuggle up Fox Fanciers this boy is stupid long and full of yearning on a level I didn’t know I could yearn. You’ve been warned!

Special thanks as always to @skdubbs and @crimson-dxwn for being my sounding boards and supporters in all this. Love you ladies! 😘

————

“For the love of the Force…” Mouse curses quietly. Padmé was never going to let her live this one down. She turns, admiring herself in the floor length mirror. The kriffing dress was perfect. Like, absolutely perfect. Had she not lost a few kilos since Coruscant she may not have even fit it to begin with but she had and it did and it was all that mattered at the moment.

It was easier to admire the stunning red dress clinging to each curve, cutting off just below her knees than it was to think about him. Yeah, knowing Fox was going to be there and seeing him were two entirely different things. Seeing him had felt… complicated. 

There had been a split second when she’d first laid eyes on him in that door, bucket slung under his arm, that she would have done anything he asked just to be near him. The loss she’d felt the first few days on Naboo was nothing in comparison to what she felt when he’d entered the Senator’s office. It was a blessing to be holding Leia, to have Luke as an excuse to leave as soon as she could. 

She couldn’t think with him there. Her first instinct had always been to radiate to him, even before she’d really understood that was what she was doing. Fighting that instinct was hard and it hurt, but she didn’t think she had it in her to be that girl anymore. She didn’t know if she could give all of herself again and again to be pushed away when he got scared. 

Padmé had said all the activity would be just a few days and then they’d be back to normal. Mouse just had to survive. She’d gotten good at that.

On the way out the door she questions retrieving a shawl. She’d be eating with warriors, battle hardened soldiers. She doubts their delicate sensibilities would be thrown into a tizzy by the sight of her scars. Maybe the more delicate socialites and their wives, but she doesn’t much care for their opinions.

She reaches up to touch the skin of her shoulder as an afterthought. It wasn’t the appearance so much as the feel of it she didn’t like. She hated rubbing the lotion into it, the almost rubbery feeling of the proliferative tissue there, but the doctors had said it was important to keep it softened to prevent it from tightening and contracting over the joint. So, two to three times a day, Mouse let go of her own uneasiness and pressed the special lotion into the skin, rubbed and massaged until the skin was pink with irritation.

The walk to the grand dining room is short and Mouse's heels echo softly down the large hallway. She can hear the conversation before the doors are even opened for her, punctuated by deep, masculine laughter. She’s fashionably late and Padmé raises a brow from her spot across the room. Mouse offers an apologetic smile and the senator returns it. Anakin stands a foot behind his wife. His attention is split between watching her and conversing with his former master. 

It’s odd seeing the Jedi, both men, in formal wear. Tuxes just don’t look quite right on them. That’s not to say they don’t cut striking figures - General Kenobi would have his choice of Coruscanti society girls if he marched around the capitol like that. It's just a little wrong to see the Jedi not in their robes.

“Sweetling!” The deep rumble drags her attention from the senator who returns to speaking with the men in front of her, neither of whom Mouse recognizes.

“Marshall Commander,” she greets, turning and accepting a soft kiss on the cheek as Cody draws near.

“Mous’ika,” he chides, using the name he’d obviously heard somewhere.

“Yes, Cody?” she asks sweetly, managing to hold in her giggle until he laughs.

“That’s more like it! How have you been?” 

Mouse falls into conversation with the Commander of the 212th. They’d met a handful of times now since she’d arrived in Naboo. The Commander had accompanied his Jedi on more than a few visits and while General Kenobi was spending time with his former Padawan, Cody had taken to having tea with Mouse and Padmé. He was a steady man who loved to gossip over holodramas and sip herbal tea. In another life maybe, Mouse could picture him as a professor, or maybe the owner of a bookshop. Something quiet, studious.

A server makes the rounds as they chat and Cody plucks a flute from a tray and hands it to her. She takes it with thanks. The bubbles tickle her tongue as she takes a drink. Something prickles at the periphery of her senses and she glances around, trying to figure it out what it might be. She shakes off the feeling and gives her full attention to the Marshall Commander in front of her.

“This isn’t either of our particular scenes, I believe. We’ve got to blend in somehow.” He holds up his own tumbler in show, amber liquid and round cubes of ice rolling around in its confines.

“That’s very true. I was afraid I’d get here and be relegated to a wallflower.”

“As if Padme would allow that,” he scoffs.

Mouse laughs again. “Are you always right, Cody?”

“Ask General Kenobi.”

Music plays quietly, a string quartet from Coruscant flown in for just the night, as Mouse falls in at Cody’s side. A few troopers  in dress greys stop to chat for a moment here and there and Mouse dutifully smiles and offers polite conversation, laughs at the appropriate times. She recognizes some here and there, a scar or tattoo sticking out in her memory, all Commanders with the occasional Lieutenant thrown in for color. She feels the sensation again and can finally place it. It’s as if someone is watching her. Cody offers her a questioning look as she glances around again. She flashes a smile and shrugs. She was being silly. No one was watching her.

“Are you still sponsoring the little girl on Coruscant?” Cody asks, making polite conversation.

“Me’kar? Yes, I actually just received a comm from her guardian the other day. She’s doing well, picking up basic incredibly fast.” Mouse had started sponsoring the child shortly after her arrival, not able to get her bright smile and sweet eyes out of her mind. It wasn’t uncommon for the children’s home to accept sponsorships to supplement the small stipends they received from the Republic. It cost money to keep the children dressed and fed and extras could be more than the budget allotted for. Mouse was more than happy to do it and the updates and occasional holo from the little girl were bright notes in her week.

“Have you given more thought to adopting her?” Cody asks knowingly, as if it was a forgone conclusion.

“I’m still thinking.” Mouse shrugs. It wasn’t a decision to take lightly, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the little girl and what it would be like to come home to her everyday, to be a mother to a child that needed one. She’d once harbored a silly dream of a family with one clone commander and little Me’kar playing a starring role. Now she still thought of a family, but maybe just of two and not three. Cody glances over her shoulder, a smile splitting his features. Mouse turns and sees, arguably, the most beautiful Twi’lek woman in the galaxy wrapped in a body contouring dress that looks nearly painted on. 

“Have you met General Secura? Let me introduce you. She may be able to answer some of the questions you have.”

———

Aayla Secura was wonderful. Mouse found herself completely enthralled with the twi’lek woman as she spoke of Ryloth, customs, and traditions. The Jedi didn’t think her idea of adopting Me’kar to be improper and encouraged her. Family was important for her people and she didn’t believe any child should grow up without the opportunity to have one.

“I would encourage you to fill out whatever application needs to be started immediately. Bring the little one here or raise her on Coruscant, either way it sounds like you’ve been thinking a great deal on it. You’ve asked such important questions. The rest is all just figuring things out as you go.”

Mouse can’t help the bright smile she flashes. Aayla glances over her shoulder as Mouse takes a swallow of her second glass of bubbly. It’s sweet on her tongue and reminds her of Fall orchard fruits, crisp and delightful. She’s just a little bit more relaxed than she’d been an hour ago as the alcohol works to relax her nerves when she thinks she feels eyes again. She’s quick to laugh it off as nerves - she hadn’t been around so many people in ages.

“Have you met my Commander Bly yet?”

Mouse wonders on “my” for a moment, but as soon as the Commander is at the Jedi’s side she wonders no more. He stands close, closer than to be expected and his hand rests along the cutout in the Jedi’s dress for just a moment longer than is proper as he greets her. 

“I’m rounding up stragglers, sir,” he says with a half smile, turning and offering Mouse a nod. She holds out a hand and Aayla introduces her. Bly has a moment when his brows twitch up in unison before he takes her hand and shakes it gently. “If you ladies would care to, I believe we're supposed to take our seats for dinner.”

Bly offers his arm to his general and she slips hers through it, allowing him to guide her. Mouse follows a half a step behind as they move to the grand hall. Large round tables are set up under sparkling chandeliers. Mouse tries to break off to a smaller one, out of the way and to the side of the room, but it seems Cody has taken up the rear behind the trio. He takes her arm gently as she tries to veer off.

“I believe you were assigned a seat of importance, Sweetling.”

Mouse shakes her head. She really was only here because Padmé wouldn’t hear of her not being there. She tries to explain to Cody as Bly glances over his shoulder. A look passes between the two troopers.

“I’m sure there’s at least one seat left at the head table.” 

Mouse watches as Aayla gives her Commander a questioning look. She swears she sees him wink.

She’s not watching where he guides her, still gently trying to plead her case. She looks to her left and sees Padmé smiling brightly and knows she won’t back her up in her decision to hide in the shadows. Cody pulls the chair out for her as she offers him a grumpy look. He chuckles and captures her hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss. Mouse feels her cheeks flame, too flustered to come up with anything in response. She doesn’t pay attention to the set of greys next to her as Cody nods and she slides into her seat. Not until he walks to his own seat beside General Kenobi does Mouse turn to introduce herself.

And comes face to face with the Commander of the Coruscant Guard.

Fox is leaned back in his seat, brow raised in her direction. He radiates slow simmering irritation.

“I- I’m sorry” she doesn’t know why she’s apologizing. She had nothing to do with this. Her eyes dart around frantically trying to find any other option, an escape, but all the other seats are full and the last of the guests are taking their places at the other tables. If she got up now she’d only draw more attention to herself.

Fox says nothing as he turns back to his drink and Bly on his other side. Mouse stares down at her plate, her stomach already twisting into knots. She throws back her drink, downing the rest in one swallow. A passing waiter offers her another and she readily accepts. Maybe if she’s just a little bit drunk this wouldn’t be so bad. 

Padmé clears her throat and all eyes fall to where she stands at the head of their table. She’s resplendent, of course, in a loose cream gown that drapes her in the most eye pleasing of ways. Even if she didn’t have an air about her that demanded attention, her wardrobe choice alone would have done the job.

“I’d like to begin by thanking everyone for their company on this lovely evening. As I’m sure you’ve heard,” she says as if she’s letting the room in on a grand secret, “we’ve recently welcomed our first children into the world.” The small gathered crowd laughs as if on cue. Mouse glances to the other tables. She didn’t know faces, but she’d dutifully typed all the names into the guest list Padmé had dictated. They were some of the most influential individuals in the outer rim. Padmé has thought to treat this evening as a soft unveiling of the plan she’d eventually propose to the senate. It was a test crowd of her peers. She’d use their reaction to modify and gauge where to go from here.

“Now,I find being a mother is much like being a senator. There is always something that needs doing and a mother’s work, much like a senators, is never done.” She offers a smile as she glances from one side of the room to the other. 

“The men and women I have invited here today,” she gestures to the clones and Jedi around her “are very familiar, also, with work that never seems to be done. These are the Marshall Commander and Commanders who keep the Grand Army of the Republic afloat. They and their men risk their lives for a Republic which has given them nothing in return, and for that,” Padmé gives a gentle smile around the table, “I want to be the first to openly admit that we have done them a grave disservice.” 

Mouse glances to see the wait staff lining up along the walls with the first course. She really does try to pay attention to what the senator has to say, but Fox is so close. She can imagine she wouldn’t have to move far to be back against his chest, feel his hot breath against her skin. Maybe he’d wrap his arm around her, hold her tight, whisper sweet things in her ear-

Maker, she was pathetic. Her stomach turns in agreement.

“Throughout this evening I hope each and every one of you enjoy yourselves, and I also hope that you take a moment to give these brave men some of the gratitude that we, as a Republic, have denied them for far too long. Something I hope we will begin to change in the not so distant future.”

Polite clapping erupts as staff circles the tables and places the first course in one impressively synchronized movement. As Padmé sits, her husband leans in and presses a kiss to her cheek. Mouse looks away.

The food looks good. Or at least it should. Mouse had helped pick out the menu herself. Crudité, a small salad of exotic fruit, a light dressing. It should be perfect. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying it if the sound of silver clinking against china meant anything. She takes a bite and chews carefully - it has all the depth and flavor of sawdust.

“I didn’t realize you had a type.” 

Mouse glances at Fox who is firmly staring at his own plate, chewing as if nothing is amiss. He’d always looked good in his greys but he looks utterly delicious now. His hair is longer and his face is shaved clean of its usual five-o’clock shadow. 

“Excuse me?” Her voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.

“I didn’t take you for a trooper chaser.”

The food very nearly gets stuck in her throat as she attempts to swallow. She takes a pull of wine from her glass, coughing lightly.

“Everything ok, Mous’ika?” Cody asks from across the table, concern evident.

Retrieving her napkin from her lap, Mouse covers her next cough. “I’m fine, Cody.” She tries to give him a reassuring look from behind the fabric. “Must have forgotten to chew,” she jokes awkwardly. At her side Fox makes a low sound. Cody glances between the pair of them for a moment before turning back to General Kenobi at his side.

“Cody,” Fox says, and Mouse catches the quick flash of brown eyes. “I seem to remember it took nearly a year for you to say my name. You’re moving faster.”

“Why are you saying this?” she questions. Why would he think such a thing? She hadn’t done anything that deserved such an accusation. He shrugs before turning to Bly and asking him a question about field munitions.

It leaves Mouse's head spinning. No one else seems to notice as they all speak quietly to one another.

“Commander Bly? General Secura?” Bail looks to the other side of the table and the pair. “What are your feelings on Senator Amidala’s personhood bill I sent you?”

 “Far be it from me to dislike a law that makes me human,” Bly cracks. A round of laughter rises among the other troopers present. Aayla rolls her eyes at her Commander in an unmistakably fond way.

“What I believe the Commander is trying to say Chancellor, is that it is a more than welcome change to the status quo.”

“I was trying to say that?”

“Yeah, the vocabulary seems a bit past him,” Fox cracks dryly. 

Aayla looks from one to the other. “Force I wish General Koon and Commander Wolffe could have been here. Maybe than you’d remember how to behave.”

“The ori’vod is the one who taught us,” Bly offers with faux indignation.

Obi-wan manages to smother a chuckle, though a smile still tugs at his lips. “Master Plo Koon sends his deepest apologies. The Wolffe pack is still firmly entrenched on their mission and he didn’t feel it appropriate to leave them.”

There’s a general consensus of agreement among the group. Mouse catches General Kenobi's occasional glances around the table, the majority of them falling between Commander Bly and his General.

“Senator Amidala,” he begins, his voice pensive, “How do you propose to introduce your personhood bill?”

Padmé gives a warm smile. She’d been waiting for this; Mouse can tell by the way her eyes sharpen and the slight quickening of her voice. “I think we need to show the public that it’s not only the GAR that stands behind the Clones, but also the Jedi Order as well.”

Mouse makes a small sound of dissent, feeling Fox adjust next to her.

“Mous’ika?” Cody questions, “Do you not agree with the senator?” Mouse looks embarrassed as she glances Padmé’s way, but the senator looks more curious than anything. Mouse gathers her thoughts while she finishes her glass of wine. A passing server goes to refill the glass but, at her side, Fox waves him off. She wants to glare at him, but all eyes are on her, waiting.

“I’m no politician, so I’m not sure my opinion should amount to anything,” she begins, “but general public opinion about the Jedi Order is not…” She looks apologetically at the few Jedi at the table “Well, it’s not good right now.”

There’s some concerned looks flying her way. Bless. It was easy to miss what was happening at home when one was in a war zone the majority of the time. 

She reaches for where her wine should be and grabs a glass of water that hadn't been there a moment ago. She takes a sip before speaking again.

“It would be a poor decision to align solely with the Order on this one, I feel. Just a look at the holonews and you’ll see articles and op-eds questioning the Jedi’s involvement in the war.”

Fox clears his throat.

“She’s right” How sweet it was to hear those words. “We’re dealing with domestic terrorism on an unprecedented level. Nothing that we can’t handle but it’s something to take into consideration. The public feels like the Order has overstepped its bounds. It lacks policing of its own.” Fox holds up his hand when Obi-wan goes to speak. “While that may not be the case, in the court of public opinion the Order is guilty more than it is not.”

Mouse can feel him looking at her, handing the reins back over. “The average Coruscanti already is apprehensive of such a large military force within their presence. It’s going to take some doing to convince them to see the troopers as anything but soldiers awaiting orders” she finishes diplomatically.

There are speculative looks and nods around the table. “Much to think about,” Bail agrees, taking a slow sip of wine. His eyes linger between her and Fox for far longer than she likes. “Thank you.”

Mouse nods, her cheeks glowing hot from the attention. Her hand brushes against Fox’s as she sets it back down on the table. Her fool’s heart skips a beat when he doesn’t pull away immediately. She fights the urge to lace her little finger with his. Luckily, the next course comes and they both have to adjust to the changing of plates.

Her stomach is still turning in loops and food is still not something that sounds appealing in the slightest as the main course comes out. She doesn’t even remember what it’s supposed to be. It looks like it was probably delicious, roasted meat and delicate fresh vegetables sautéed to perfection. She takes a few testing bites but her plate remains mostly untouched.

“Quit pushing your food around and eat”. Of course she hasn’t forgotten Fox is sitting next to her. It must have been too much to hope he had forgotten about her. 

Again, when she glances his direction he doesn’t seem to be paying attention to her. She doesn’t acknowledge he’s said anything and listens in quietly as the others at the table chat. 

She takes another bite and chews slowly before swallowing.

“Come on, another,” he says. This time something is softer about his voice. When Mouse looks she sees him glancing at her. 

Her chest tightens uncomfortably. Why did she give him the power to do this?

“Mouse.” 

She thinks for a moment that she just might be imagining things. Under the table Fox’s booted foot knocks softly against hers letting her know she wasn’t. This wasn’t fair. 

“Eat.” It’s a soft plea. He didn’t get to be soft with her anymore. He didn’t get to give orders. He’d lost those privileges.

“I’m not hungry.” 

Fox’s head turns slowly at her words. “You could have fooled me. You look like a strong wind could blow you away.”

“Let it go, Commander. You're being ridiculous,” she manages to whisper under her breath. She doesn’t realize the table has gone quiet, that half a dozen or more pairs of eyes are watching them. Fox hasn’t either.

“There are faster ways to kill yourself than starvation. I’m sure you remember at least one other way.” The sudden acid in his voice hides the sound of frustration and strikes a direct hit.

Mouse has never considered herself a dramatic person, far from it really. So the rapidly rising urge to turn and punch him in the eye comes as a surprise. The anger behind it is soon replaced by mortification when she realizes that everyone has gone quiet.

Cody’s jaw is set into a tight line, the antithesis of Bly’s slackened one. Both Aayla and Bail are staring down at their plates. Mouse doesn’t look at the others.

Fox is frozen at her side, unmoving and unspeaking. Horror is dawning in his eyes as she pulls the napkin off her lap and places it in her still full plate.

His hand fumbles reaching for hers under the table but she skitters out of his reach.

“If you’ll excuse me?” She addresses the gathered group, “I’ll be back shortly.” Hot angry tears are already starting to swell in her eyes as she pushes away from the table and makes her way from the great room. She manages to keep it together until she’s in the guest wing. She doesn’t slide to the floor in a heap til she’s in her room.

She doesn’t return to dinner.

————

 “You know I remember it all.”

The words catch Fox by surprise. He picks up the tumblr resting along the stone terrace wall and takes a drink as he looks at the Jedi - former Jedi- he didn’t even know what Anakin Skywalker was anymore.

“Congratulations?” Bitterness is already brewing in his gut. First Mouse and now this? Could it get any worse? Could a man not drink away his self-loathing in peace?

“The first time I met the Chancellor I was a child, but I remember it like it was just this morning. He smiled at me. It was like having someone see me for the first time. Like my Mother. Like Qui-Gon-“

Fox isn’t in the mood for this. 

“-as I got older his attention focused on me. He honed me. Groomed me for something-“

“That’s great, sir, really.” He’d failed to hold back his acidic comments when Mouse had been near. Now that it was Skywalker he doesn’t even care to try.

“Shift it Fox and listen to what the kriff I’ve got to say.”

Fox brings the glass to his lips and finishes it in one long, slow pull before taking it and throwing it out into the placid lake below. It would have felt better had it smashed. The urge to break something has been simmering on the back burner all night. Skywalker was bringing it to a rapid boil. 

“And what are you trying to say Jetii? Your life story means to me about as much as sith spit.”

Something dangerous flares in the other man’s eyes. “We’re the same, you and I.”

Fox barks a laugh, a bitter stagnant sound as he feigns turning away for just a moment only to spin right back. “You and I are nothing alike. Are you one of millions? Does your order see you as interchangeable battle fodder? Tell me your serial number, sir.”

“Your loyalty is unquestionable. You would do anything for the people you care about.” Anakin seems undeterred by Fox’s growing ire. “We both love women who are far stronger than we gave them credit for-“

“Shut up.” Fox’s voice is low, a warning growl from a wounded animal. He’d already hurt someone he’d claimed to love, said something ugly and cruel. It wouldn’t take much effort to get him to throw a swing against the man in front of him.

“-we think we know best. Sometimes we do. Then we let our own ego get in the way and we hurt the ones we love with our good intentions.”

“What about shut up don’t you understand?” Fox takes a step forward, chest out. He wants this to escalate. 

“What I don’t understand is how you can take a girl like her and purposefully hurt her. I watched her put a blaster to her-“

“ENOUGH!” Any cool Fox had left vanishes as he closes the space between them. His finger jabs into the other man’s chest, punctuating his point. “You don’t get to talk about her. You don’t get to talk about that night.” 

How dare he. In the end, who was he but Sidious’s favorite lap dog? Rage boils over as Anakin steps into the jabbing finger, making Fox take an unwanted step back.

“Yeah? You want to go there? Pretty sure I remember being there just as much as you were. I was also there when your blaster killed Fives.”

Fox can’t hide the way he flinches at the name. 

Anakin takes a slow even breath before he speaks again. “Fox, I’m not going to say I didn’t want to turn the damn thing on you and put two through your composite -Jedi way be damned- but I can look back and remember what your face looked like. When you stepped in the corner where you didn’t think anyone could see? You didn’t want to shoot Fives. You didn’t want to kill your brother.”

Fox closes his eyes, tipping his head up toward the night sky.

“She knew that too-“

“You think I don’t realize what she was doing? You think I don’t realize she was ready to sacrifice herself so I didn’t have to kill someone else I - “ He opens his eyes focusing back on the Jedi. 

“But you didn’t feel her in the Force like I did. I was as much of a mess as any of us but you know what I felt coming from her?”

Fox shakes his head. He doesn’t want to know.

“Resolve. Love and resolve. She would have done anything to keep you safe. She was the only steady one of us all.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” He’d seen it in Mouse’s eyes, that decision she’d made and would have followed through with. For him. The nightmares where she had to follow through still found him, the ones with her wide eyes staring up blank and glassy while smoke rose in tendrils from her head.

“Because we're the same. Our love was used as fuel for manipulation. It was a tool to gain our compliance. I saw a future where Padmé died. Over and over and Palp- Sidious made me think I could stop it. If I did what he said I could stop it all. Then he was dead and I still had the dream. But you know what? She would have died at my hands because of me, because of my blind, fumbling attempt to prevent it in the first place and my children -” Emotion swells in his voice.

“When I watched you tonight, when I heard what you said, I saw those very blind steps I had been taking all over again. Stop it, Fox. She doesn’t deserve it.” Anakin stops and takes a deep breath, 

“You don’t deserve it. Let the pain stop.”

Fox drags himself away from the Jedi, turning his back to stare out at the expanse of water below. “There’s no fixing what I’ve done”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“And I think you’re a fool.”

———-

Fox feels spent. Physically and emotionally exhausted, riding the fallout of an adrenaline surge down to rock bottom after his confrontation with Skywalker.

He’s ready for bed. He needs a solid six hours of sleep. Maybe a coma? 

He wasn’t pleased with the continued attempts by others to force something with Mouse that was obviously not meant to be. He wasn’t pleased with his own behavior in response to it. He wasn’t a Hutuun, but he had certainly acted like one. Honestly, he'd rather take the butt of a blaster to his head as opposed to thinking about it anymore. 

He tried to think of something else. Personhood. Not in a million lifetimes did Fox think someone as powerful as the Chancellor of the Republic or one of its most brilliant senators would take up the torch for him and his brothers. It was bound to be a controversial bill but after listening to Bail and Padmé speak, it didn’t seem so overwhelming. It was a real possibility that the end of the war wasn’t going to mean the proverbial scrap heap. The end of the war could mean citizenship, recognition, lives outside of battle and the GAR. 

The thought left him a little lightheaded - or maybe that was the Alderaanian wine that had been flowing. 

He tries to rein in his excitement at the thought. If Fox had learned one thing in his time in Coruscant and among politics it was that politicians were exceptionally good at dragging their shebs when it came to anything good. It would require finesse and more than a little debate for the good Senator to see her plans to fruition. If anyone could do it, it was Padmé. The time frame in which she could do it was up for debate. Fox raises a brow as he looks down the hall. If the sound coming from General Secura’s room meant anything, there was some very brisk debating going on between the General and her Commander. 

Fox tries not to look at Mouse’s door as he goes to his own. He tries not to think about what personhood would mean for his vode that had broken regs and found something to fight for outside of the GAR.

 Fox is  barely in his door, already bending to remove his boots when he hears it, a soft plaintive voice in the hall. It’s instantly familiar. He’s already cursing himself. He’d done enough to her tonight. Obviously, he’d proven that he couldn’t be in the same room without hurting her. He hears her voice again and he’s pulling the door open without a second thought. 

Mouse is leaning half in the hallway. “Hello?”

The disaster that had been dinner flashes in his mind's eye as do Skywalker’s words from a short time ago.

Let the pain stop.

Clearing his throat, he steps into the hall.

“Oh Maker...” it’s not the exact thing he was hoping to hear as she laid eyes on him, but he’s sure it’s no less than he deserves. “It had to be you, didn’t it?”

Fox gives her an appraising look. Her cheeks were hot and flushed even before she’d seen him and the gown she’d worn to dinner is still firmly in place. Her gentle eyes are rimmed in red. She looks just as stunning as she had a few hours ago. 

The foundation his resolve has been built upon continues to crumble.

He chides himself. That foundation had never been strong, not when he’d asked Bail to transfer her, not when he’d seen her in her hospital room, certainly not when she’d given him the cold shoulder earlier when they’d arrived. It seemed everything about Mouse worked to destroy the barrier he’s tried to erect between them.

“What’s wrong?” He asks gruffly. He’s tired from travel and of the mental gymnastics he’d been putting himself through. Mostly though he was tired of feeling like he was fighting with both her and himself.

Mouse's eyes dart each way down the hallway as if looking for someone else to save the day. She isn’t that lucky. A particularly loud moan coming from Secura’s room emphasizes that point.

“My dress-“ a new wave of red blooms in her cheeks, “the zipper is stuck. I’ve been trying for nearly an hour and…” She glances down at the floor and her bare feet. He hates that she won’t look at him but he’s done nothing to earn that honor now has he?

He huffs taking a breath and a leap. “If you don’t hate the idea of my help, I’m willing to offer it.”

Mouse's eyes slowly rise back to his. “I-“ she’s making a decision as well. He can see it written across her face. Maker, he thinks, please give me this one chance.

“Yes. Please.” She stutters out her answer, pulling away from the door frame and moving into the suite. She glances over her shoulder as she moves as if she’s afraid he wouldn’t actually follow.

Mouse stops near a small dressing table with brushes and makeup laid out on its top. A full size mirror is immediately to its side. She watches him in the reflection. It’s the first time since the hospital on Coruscant that Fox has been alone with her. That feels like so long ago, another life and time. They’re two different people now.

He steps carefully into her space as if one off movement would spook her and this would all end. This close he can smell the soft floral perfume she’s dabbed on. He can feel the heat radiating from her. Equal parts comfort and temptation rolled in one. 

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he says suddenly. Skywalker’s words haunt him. “I shouldn’t have said the things I did.” Mouse’s head cocks to the side as she watches him.

“Why did you then? I’m certainly not Cody’s type and-“

“And what?”

She steals herself. Fox can see the deep breath she takes before she speaks again, “even if I was, my interest will always lie elsewhere.”

The meaning of her words strike home. “Me? After everything?”

“It was always you.” She admits softly.

She still- she still cared for him? After everything?  After he’d nearly killed her. After he left her maimed. After he pushed her away over and over. 

More of the wall crumbles. All he’d have to do now is take one big step and he could be over it.

“So, this zipper you were talking about?” He deflects, needs another minute to think because there's too much to sort through and he can’t make more mistakes. Not with Mouse. Not with them.

She nods softly toward her left side, pulling her arm forward to show the jammed apparatus. Fox closes his eyes. Her scars stand proudly from under the thin straps of her dress. When he opens them he catches Mouse watching him in the reflection, her look is sad. 

“I can find someone else-“ 

His hand immediately drops to her hip as she tries to walk away, pulling her back and erasing the laughable space in between them. The shock shows on both of their faces.

“Easy,” he manages, and after a moment she settles against him. His thumb rubs small circles over her waist and he’s not sure if he’s trying to soothe her or himself. “I’m just coming up with a plan of action.” That draws a small smile from her but it’s all the encouragement he needs. “You need help taking your hair down?” He turns his head, the tip of his nose brushing against the soft strands still secured in their up-do.

 It’s an absolute sithshit question, she had two working arms she could remove all the pins and clips herself, they both know this. Fox just wants- he wants more time. He wants to be ready to look at the damage he’s done and not feel repulsed by it. To maybe, just maybe, not hate himself when he looks at it.

“I- yeah, that would be helpful.” She says quietly after a moment. She sits on the stool in front of the mirror, her eyes following his actions with apprehension and curiosity. Fox takes a steadying breath and begins. 

He’s never done this before, that is to say done anything more than held hairpins passed to him by senators like Padme and Chuchi on a transport after an event when they complained of the intricate styles giving them headaches or had simply needed to feel free of the bindings of senate formality. He’s seen enough though, and begins to work slowly from the base of her skull working up to the crown of her head. Mouse holds out her hand and he drops the thin pins in as he goes. As her hair begins to spill down, he watches her transform before his eyes back into the mouse he’d always known. Loose waves frame her face, still painted to perfection. Her red lips part and a soft breath escapes her as he massages his fingers along her scalp. Tension melts from her shoulders and she begins to lean back into him as his fingers rake through her hair, untangling strands until they slip smoothly through her fingers.

“You're going to make me fall asleep if you keep that up,” she says finally. The ghost of a smile crosses his face.

“Come on then. Stand up. Let’s get this thing undone before you have to sleep in it.” The stool is pushed to the side as she stands, and Fox moves a half a step back so he can see what he’s doing.

“The chain,” she says softly, catching his attention. “Unclasp it first, before the zipper. I can’t reach that at all.”

The thin gold chain hangs low on her bare back, spanning the distance between the straps of her dress. It glitters temptingly in the light, just like it had when he’d seen it earlier at dinner, when his mouth had gone dry at the mere sight of her.

Fox meets her eyes in the mirror as his hand moves softly from her right hip, up and over her back. His fingers drag feather-light over the bare skin they find. Mouse's eyes flutter shut and he can see her inhale deeply. Her skin was still as soft as he remembered. He gently scoops her hair to one side, over her right shoulder. Her eyes are still closed.

“Breathe, precious girl,” he orders softly, fighting a wince at the pet name that slips out. If Mouse cares, she doesn’t let on. She exhales slowly, opening her eyes at the end. Her pupils take a moment to adjust back to the light. “Am I ok?” he asks quietly.

“Are you?” There’s no heat or snark in her words. She’s staring at him, genuinely curious.

“I think so.” His fingers find the tiny gold catch holding the chain in place and it opens with ease.

“Can you- do you think you can do the zipper. If it’s too much to look at I-“

Fox stops her with a low sound. She hadn’t looked unsure or self conscious in the gown she wore all night. He wasn’t going to be the one to make her question it now. He’d already done enough. 

“I’m good.” 

He gently presses her left arm forward to gain access. He takes a steading breath as he looks down. The scarring spills across her shoulder, two shades lighter than her normal skin tone. He’s seen plenty of burns in his career and this wasn’t the worst but it feels like it is because he was the cause of it. A few centimeters more and he would have missed her entirely. A few centimeters the other way and-

His fingers move to the gown, easily plucking open the hook and loop closure at the top of the zipper. Mouse sucks in a sharp breath as the tips of his finger skim along the bare skin there.

“Is this ok?” he asks. She nods mutely. “I need words, Mouse,” he urges as gently as he can muster.

“It’s good.” Her voice wavers slightly as she speaks, “Go- go ahead.”

Fox can hear his heart beating in his skull. He can hear the rush of air through his lungs. Everything feels loud as his fingers slowly work at the jammed zipper. Mouse’s breathing is shallow as his fingers press into her, as they pull and twist until whatever has been keeping the closure jammed comes loose and it slides down. His fingers trail behind the zipper as it falls open.

He looks up to find her eyes on him again in the mirror's reflection. Her pupils are blown wide and her lips are parted. Fox feels the beginning wave of blood rush to his groin, the surge only becoming stronger as Mouse slowly - carefully - reaches up and slides the right strap of her gown down. She doesn’t look away from his reflection as her hand trails across her collarbone to the left strap. She pauses as if waiting for him to tell her to stop.

Fox puts the tips of his fingers over hers and together they lower the strap. He can see the rest of the scar now, can really get a feel for the size and the shape of it. It’s glossy compared to the surrounding area, as if her skin had been pulled too tight and frozen that way. She slides her fingers from the strap - laying flat against her lower arm - up, bringing his fingers along with it.

“Does it hurt?” The question slips out as her fingers glide over the surface.

“Not usually. It pulls sometimes,” she says softly, “They both do. I use lotion, try to get it massaged a couple times a day.” Fox’s eyes lock on hers. “The other option was worse.”

That’s right. She could be dead. He’s tried not to think of that the last few months, so trapped in his own guilt about hurting her that each time the psych droid brought it up he immediately countered with how she wasn’t and she had to live with what he’d done to her.

“Can I…?” He glances down and then back up. Mouse gives him a tense smile and a nod.

It feels different from how skin is supposed to feel. It feels thicker, less textured missing the fine hair that covered the rest of her arm. He traces the outline of it. It had only been glancing, the distal part of her shoulder taking the brunt of the burn from the bolt. His fingers map out the boundaries twice before he comes to a stand still.

He doesn’t want to stop touching her. 

“Where’s your lotion?”

She doesn’t question him. He can see it in her eyes, in the split second of hesitation. She doesn’t want this to stop either. 

One arm moves across her chest to hold her gown in place while the other reaches to the dressing table and wraps around a bottle. Fox takes it when offered and squeezes a small amount into his hand. 

He’s taking that step over his wall, he realizes.  It doesn’t feel like much of an obstacle anymore anyway as it lays in crumbles at his feet.

Her skin is warm under his touch, no real difference between the good tissue and the scarred as far as temperature is concerned. He works the lotion into her skin pressing his thumb in firm circles from the edges to the center. Mouse lets out a tiny sigh and it’s becoming more difficult to ignore the desire roiling in his belly. 

“Fox…”  he hums in response to the soft moan of his name, “it feels so good.”

“I missed you, Cyar’ika.” He offers tentatively as he presses in close, aligning her back against his chest. His free arm wraps around her waist holding her lightly against him. His hand falls away from her skin and his mouth descends to pepper soft kisses. She was warm. She was alive. she could be dead but she wasn’t and in the end it was because of his actions that he could still hold her, still hear the soft hitch in her breath as he sucks gently at the juncture where her shoulder and neck meet. 

Mouse’s head tips, offering him more room. Her arm falls away from her dress and reaches back behind her, cradling the back of Fox’s while he sucks a mark into her skin. A sea of red flutters to the floor as the dress falls. Fox growls as he looks up and sees the pair of them, him still in his greys and her naked except for a small lacy pair of red panties. His red. From there his eyes travel up, finding the other shot he fired. 

The scarring to her right flank is worse than the shoulder; he can see the puckered skin and the patterned appearance of healed grafting but he doesn’t feel the wave of guilt he’s felt earlier. She was alive and hot in his arms.

“Tell me to stop.” He demands quietly against her skin, “make me stop.”

Mouse’s hips press back against the hard line of his erection straining in his greys. Another low growl spills from his lips as he spins her around. Her lips are on his in an instant, messy and desperate as she presses up and into him. Her teeth pull at his lower lip. “Fox…”

His hands cradle her face as he slots his mouth over hers, breathing in the air she gives him like a gift from Fett himself. He can feel the press of her breasts against his chest, the way her hands wrapped around him and gripped at his back. 

It was a dream. It had got to be. If it was, it was  the first good one he’d had in months. Mouse whines quietly as his hands slide down and grips her hips as if they were the only thing tethering him to this reality. It’s too much and he should stop but he can’t because what he should do and what he wants to do are too wildly incompatible.  His fingers graze over the pebbled skin of her right flank. Mouse inhales sharply.

“Stop.” The word leaves her mouth with sudden desperation, like it had been pulled from her body unwillingly.  It’s like a bucket of cold water thrown over Fox as he jerks away.

Mouse turns from him, shaking her head as she snatched up a robe and quickly wraps it around herself. They’re both panting quietly.

He’d done something wrong, misread her signals. He was scum. He was an idiot. He should-

“I can’t do this again” She’s still breathless when she speaks, ruby lipstick smeared over swollen lips. “Fox look at me.” She demands quietly when he tries to turn away. “You can’t do this to me again.”

“Do what?” He can hear the desperation in his voice, he sounds pathetic.

She looks at him for a moment before she moves closer to him. He wants to turn away. He doesn’t want to hear how he’s ruined everything, how everything has become clear but it was now too late. 

Her hand comes up softly to his cheek as she looks at him through dark lashes. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“You can’t make me want you again, not if you're going to push me away when things get hard.” She has her free arm crossed over her chest. Her tone isn’t as strong as her words. They waiver as they fall from her lips. 

He wants to make her every promise in the book before he even knows if he can keep them and it’s not about getting his dick wet.

He misses her. Has missed her every single day since the horrible event in the Chancellor’s office.

He misses her smile - the soft one she saved just for him. He misses the way she viewed the world  from a different but similar way he did. He misses planning for a future with her even if he hadn’t told her any of it. Most of all he misses the quiet moments, the times when they would just lay together and enjoy being near one another.

“It was all for you Cyar’ika.” He says with force, as if he said it sure enough he’d convince her that every action he’d ever made in regards to her was completely selfless.

“Kriff” she curses, shaking her head. Her hand falls away and he misses the warm feeling of her skin against his, “you of all people-“ she mutters under her breath before speaking clearly.

 “I get to make choices Fox. When it comes to my life, I get to weigh the risks and benefits and I get to make choices. You took that away from me. Have I loved being here?” she asks, gesturing around at the sumptuous suite, “I’d be a liar if I said I didn’t, but would I have rather been with you? Do you know that answer.”

Fox shakes his head.

“That’s right! Because you never asked. The truth is I would have rather been with you every minute of every day of the last three months. Doing paperwork, writing schedules, reviewing supply requisitions, it wouldn’t have mattered because I’d have been with you.”

“Cyar’ika, I didn’t-“

“No Fox, you didn’t think.” She sniffs lightly, her eyes bright with unshed tears, “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life and you pushed me away. You turned your back on me when I needed you and now? Now you’re here and we fall into our old patterns? Not again. Not unless you can promise me you are in this 100% because I can’t do it again. My heart just can’t.” 

Fox reaches out and swipes a trailing tear with his thumb “I-“ She leans into his touch, her cheek resting against his palm as her eyes drift shut. Just one second. she allows herself that. She straightens and steps away before his eyes can memorize the image of her.

“No, don’t say anything right now. Leave. Think. Decide what it is you really want. If it’s me you can find me and let me know.” There’s a finality to her words that has him biting back any response he may have made. She steps into him, rising up on her toes and gently bumping her forehead against his own.

“I do love you,” he says quietly.

 Mouse blows out a ragged breath. “I know. You just need to decide if that’s going to be enough.” She moves toward the door, opening it. “Goodnight Fox.”