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sleepingsun501 · 1 year

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Chapter 4: Two Truths and a Lie

Characters: Commander Fox, Commander Thorn, OC Keeda Ionza

Summary: Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

Rating: Chapter is rated G (Series is rated Explicit 18+)

Warnings: Language, political references, political negotiation

Word Count: 6.7k

Ao3 link

A/N: Welcome to Chapter 4!! It’s been a long time coming, but this is the last of the reworked chapters. It’s probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written, and I hope you all enjoy it as much as I do.

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Two Truths and a Lie

Fox sighed as the steaming water coursed down his body, ducking his head under the spray and scrubbing the last suds of shampoo out of his thick curls. The heat leeched the strain from his muscles, and a few of his joints released deep, satisfying pops. He wished he had a few extra minutes, feeling the heaviness of his perpetual exhaustion weighing him down again, but he knew he would never get out if he lingered. Reluctantly, he turned the water to cold and let it reinvigorate him.

Two of the very few benefits of being a marshal commander permanently stationed on Triple Zero were private quarters and hot showers. It hardly made up for the multitudes of other issues he dealt with daily, but it was far better than the communal sonic showers his millions of brothers were forced to use in the field and on starships.

Tucking his towel low around his hips, he wiped the steam from his mirror and pulled his razor out from his refresher cabinet. He wished he did not have to shave so soon, rather liking how his slightly greying stubble made him look more distinguished and always set him apart from his brothers, but he had no choice. He had to be as presentable as possible for the gala in a few hours, and he mentally cursed whichever senator had stolen Thire from his post.

Pushing his dripping curls away from his face, Fox slathered his cheeks and jaw in shaving cream and began methodically scraping away his stubble, careful not to nick himself. As he shaved, he mulled over his resentment toward the many senators who seemed to think the Corries were their personal bodyguards instead of elite shock troopers.

The clone troopers were constantly called upon, day and night, to escort senators and other public officials to wherever they wanted to go, regardless of the private security forces that many politicians were already provided with. Even their underpaid aides were not called upon as often as the Corries were for menial tasks—the moment a senator needed to travel off-world or needed a kriffing lightbulb changed, they rang a squad of guardsmen.

The dark circles under Fox’s eyes were partially a result of this constant mismanagement, but they were not as prominent now as he had finally managed to get a few hours of solid sleep after his workout. He had also taken Thorn’s advice about dabbing some dermabacta under his eyes, which seemed to help, too.

Not only was he glad for the dreamless sleep he had gotten, but grateful that he had woken up in his bunk at all. It had only happened a few times–even once being too many for his liking–where he had woken in a different part of the base or deep in the bowels of Coruscant only to realize that he had done something he could not remember doing.

He tried his best not to dwell on it as he rinsed his razor, focusing instead on how he somehow looked a bit younger as his skin became smooth. However, it was a sore reminder of how young he technically was. Physically, he was only about twenty-five, but he felt like he was nearly a hundred on most days because of the mental strain of the blackouts.

Each blackout required him to rewatch the footage from his helmet to see whom he had spoken with, where he had traveled, and what orders he had given, and they all secretly terrified him. He would take the knowledge of what he had done, and what he was capable of, to his grave.

Shaking himself from the dark thoughts, Fox eased a clean undershirt over his head, careful not to muss his freshly faded hair that he had slicked back into smooth waves. The ever-present greys in his once jet-black hair had ceased to bother him, especially because they seemed to be a date magnet on the incredibly rare occasions he took to venture out to 79’s. Absently, he wondered how Thorn’s night had gone with the Zeltron woman.

He smiled to himself as he pulled on his dress greys, fondly remembering a different night when Cody and Wolffe had dragged him to the bar with every intention of getting him laid. At the time, they had no idea their youngest batchmate had spent the past year carefully observing the very politicians he loathed, watching their formal, charming interactions, and quietly putting them into practice. Fox had a woman’s attention within twenty minutes that night, and Cody’s and Wolffe’s jaws had been on the deck.

Part of his charm, he had learned, came with his expression of intention. Fox had never once led anyone on, making sure an unattached night was all a lady was to expect from him. It was not that he wanted to sleep around or that he did not have feelings, but he knew he had no time for a committed relationship—even if it never stopped him from wondering how nice one would be.

He rolled his muscular shoulders in the stiff, heavy fabric of his dress uniform and checked his appearance over one last time, pulling his mind back to the present.

All right, time to focus. Just another big fancy dinner. he thought to himself, tucking his cover under his arm and echoing Thorn’s words from a few days prior.

“You’re fidgeting,” Sareel whispered concernedly as her daughter exited the speeder after her.

“Just nerves,” Keeda muttered in excuse, shivering slightly and smoothing out her flowing, dark green dress. She was glad she had chosen something with a loose skirt that she could both walk and breathe in, as the latter felt rather difficult.

“It’s nothing you haven’t done before. I have all faith in you.”

Despite her mother’s comforting words, Keeda gnawed at the inside of her cheek as she glanced around. The opulently dressed guests were arriving in droves, making introductions and greeting those they recognized with both genuine and faux smiles, la bise kisses, and graceful bows.

Maybe they’re secretly competing with each other to see who can be more generous tonight. she thought, mildly amused.

She detested the number of galas and other extravagant parties she had been forced to attend over the years. In her learned opinion, they were nothing more than expensive excuses to rub elbows with other influential and affluent people. Keeda much preferred to hold private meetings and dinners in order to discuss business or charitable donations, but she knew the one thing the exorbitantly wealthy loved to do more with their money than spend it was to show it off.

Although she herself had never required such grandiose persuasion to donate her own wealth or to work with other various charities, her mother’s tactic was flawless in that regard. Somehow, inviting celebrities and politicians to come for a night of food, drink, and dancing—and dressed in all their best finery—convinced them to loosen their purse strings for those less fortunate in a galaxy at war.

Silently, Keeda resigned herself to participating in high-class society, and she was sure the gooseflesh breaking out over her skin had nothing to do with the chill in the air.

As the daughter of the gala’s host, she started to feel the pressure as eyes were beginning to turn toward her and her mother. The sickening clench of her stomach was hard to ignore as she slapped a practiced smile on her face.

Beneath her long, stylishly curled and plaited hair, she felt Sareel’s silk-gloved hand subtly adjust one of the X-crossed straps on her backless gown before looping their arms.

“You are so much like your father. He hated this, too, but you’ve nothing to worry about tonight, dearest. Just try to relax and enjoy yourself,” she said soothingly, ushering Keeda inside and out of the chilly air.

As they made their way closer to the grand doors of the hall, Keeda spied a few clones in their distinct red and white armor cleverly stationed in the shadows, and her nerves calmed a bit.

Whereas many of Coruscant’s citizens had come to loathe the ever-present shock troopers, she found their presence to be a comfort, more so now than ever before. She wondered if the commander was among them, but before she could dwell on the thought, her mother was pulling her into the venue.

Sareel’s slender fingers patted her daughter’s bare forearm reassuringly as they made their way into the dazzling hall, and the sight stole Keeda’s breath away.

The hall was massive, and the cavernous, arching glass ceiling reflected thousands of fairy lights woven into the garlands and wreaths June had no doubt spent hours setting up. The air was fragrant from the candles on each dining table, and from the same little peace blossoms that were nestled in her fashionably twisted hair. The tiny, softly twinkling lights and candles created a tranquil ambiance that seemed to warm even the darkest corners of the hall, giving Keeda a much-needed sense of calm.

While she looked around, she noticed a familiar, friendly face illuminated by the glow.

“Oh, my dear, Keeda,” Henya greeted compassionately, coming around a large, ornately set dining table.

Keeda grinned happily for the first time that evening as the tall Twi’lek woman embraced her, and the soft fur of her shawl tickled her nose.

“Hello, Auntie,” she replied.

“You look positively divine tonight. That dress does wonders for your eyes,” Henya complimented, but her own striking yellow eyes held a trace of guilt as she pulled away. “May I steal her for a moment, Sareel?”

“Of course, of course. I will find you later, Keeda,” Sareel answered, giving her daughter a quick peck on the cheek and moving to graciously greet the other guests.

As Henya took Keeda’s hands in hers, she could practically feel the emotion rippling off her beloved aunt. Even her long violet lekku were twitching restlessly as she searched for her words.

“You don’t need to apologize for anything, Auntie,” Keeda said, already having some conjecture as to what her aunt was trying to say. “What happened the other night, that’s not your fault.”

Henya sighed heavily, “I am still terribly sorry, my dear. You shouldn’t have had to endure that.” She paused for a moment, looking around before her eyes settled on a rather severe-looking couple taking flutes of dark blue, bubbling wine from a passing server. “I’m even more sorry to say that Governor Gargeli would like to speak with you before the evening’s festivities begin.”

The pit in Keeda’s stomach immediately gave way to a dull numbness that flooded through her limbs. She would recognize Governor Baylo Gargeli anywhere, even without having gone on a horrific date with his son—whose name she irritatingly still could not recall.

Thankful that there seemed to be no sign of their son, she breathed deeply and unlocked her knees to help her head clear. Might as well get this unpleasantry out of the way.

Striding forward with purpose, her father’s voice whispered in the back of her mind. Opportunity lies in the most unlikely places.

When he had spoken those words to her so long ago, Keeda had not fully grasped their true meaning. But now, as Henya led her across the room, her sharp mind understood that the governor was about to ask something of her.

“Governor and Missus Gargeli, may I present Miss Keeda Ionza,” Henya said diplomatically.

While Gargeli might have looked unyielding on the outside, his blue eyes were benevolent. His son had inherited his looks from his father, but Keeda refused to let it unnerve her.

“Miss Ionza, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said authentically as he extended his hand.

“The pleasure is mine, Governor.” She shook his large hand firmly, conveying her directness.

“It is an esteemed honor to be invited this evening,” he remarked, releasing her to allow her to shake hands with his wife. “Although, I do wish the circumstances of our meeting would have been… less precarious,” Gargeli added softly and opened his arm. “May I?”

Keeda fought the urge to huff in frustration as she was passed to yet another arm. Did people think she was unable to walk on her own?

Despite being on his arm, she steered the governor to a quieter corner of the hall and waited until she was sure the sharp click of her heels on the tiles was no longer audible to the other guests. She paused beside one of the massive bouquets that matched her hair, releasing herself from the escorting grip and stepping in front of the much taller man.

The governor, for all his formal appearance, looked ashamed. “I can see we don’t have much time, so I won’t waste it. I want you to know that my wife and I do not condone our son’s actions,” Gargeli whispered gravely. “Pettri was brought up to be better than that, and I sincerely apologize for any harm that has befallen you.”

Keeda’s jaw tensed as she finally remembered. Pettri Gargeli. That was the fucker’s name, but how does the governor know what happened that night? she thought pensively. Surely Pettri would’ve lied?

The governor’s Coruscanti accent was much thicker than her own, and she had to strain a bit to hear him over the growing hum of the other guests and the gentle classical music that was beginning to play. But he had her full attention as he continued.

“I also wanted to inform you personally that Pettri is no longer living on Coruscant, and he will not be returning. I’ve consigned him to my family’s homeworld, where he will be chastened in a manner befitting his actions.”

Keeda hid the wave of her relief well, only shifting her weight from one hip to the other as she took in the revelation and continued her nonchalant surveying of the incoming guests. It would have been a lie if she had said that she was not secretly dreading seeing Pettri again, even in passing. But now, the weight of that fear dissipated from her shoulders.

“I am grateful for the measures you have taken in resolving the situation, Governor,” she replied with a slight nod of thanks, “but I sense you have more to say.”

Gargeli tapped a finger on his glass rather anxiously as he scanned the room blankly. “I’m afraid I do have another motive for speaking to you privately this evening, Miss Ionza,” he confessed. He swiftly acquired another flute of bubbling blue wine from a passing attendant and offered it to her as a gesture.

Here we go. Keeda thought. There’s always an ulterior motive.

She was far too accustomed to being sought out and patronized for her connections or funding, especially at large gatherings, and she already had an inkling of what the governor wanted. Nonetheless, she accepted the drink to let him know she was listening, bracing herself for his request.

“As you may know, the local elections in my district are not far off.” He paused to clear his throat to emphasize the point he was about to make. “If rumors were to spread, a scandal such as this involving a member of my immediate family would potentially—”

“—Potentially negatively impact your reelection,” Keeda interrupted gracefully, briefly meeting the governor’s eyes again.

Although the smile she wore was practiced and demure, Keeda’s green eyes shone with her perceptivity. The game of negotiation was set with their pieces on the board. All she had to do was make the first move.

He wanted a guarantee of her silence. It would mean Pettri would never be prosecuted, but she could still hope his familial punishment would be befitting of his crime. Keeda was willing to pay that price, but the question was, was the governor willing to pay his side of the cost?

“If I were to ensure no such rumors were circulated, perhaps our agreement could be mutually beneficial,” she suggested.

An intrigued look crossed Gargeli’s aristocratic face, his thick mustache twitching up in interest. “Name your terms, Miss Ionza.”

Taking a long sip from her glass, Keeda glanced back out across the room, trying to look as casual as possible. “The Terreg Ionza Medical Foundation could do more work in your district if you would consider opening more public spaces to our volunteer clinics and providing security,” she said in a low, firm tone—her throat tightening a fraction as her father’s name passed her carmine red lips. “In the past, our volunteers have encountered significant resistance in underprivileged areas, largely due to threats of local gang violence. Not only would it guarantee my silence, but it would also benefit your constituents.”

With her demands on the table, the governor nodded pensively. “I assure you, my campaign already supports the increased street surveillance in my district.”

A half-truth. Keeda noted. The wheels turned in her mind quickly. If he was going to view her as an asset, he was going to have to earn it. She could not recall Gargeli’s previous campaigns being largely focused on the medical welfare of his constituents, but he seemed to be conceding already. Perhaps a gradual sway of his opinions through the polls would get him to see just how powerful an ally she could be. In any case, she could hear the quiet desperation he held in wanting to appease her, so she decided to use it.

“I see the Coruscant Guard are here tonight,” Gargeli observed as he skimmed over the room, trying to find a convincing argument. “They have been immensely helpful in training new local security forces, so any volunteers and supplies would be well protected.”

Keeda hummed absently as she sipped her drink, allowing the governor one more unspoken chance to enhance his offer. He seemed to take the hint.

“Perhaps my wife and I will become more regular contributors to your charitable foundation as well, to ensure their success, of course,” he added, turning toward her fully.

A wave of triumph surged through Keeda’s heart as she met the governor’s eyes once more, signaling she was satisfied with his overture. Despite how much she hated playing politics, she was rather reluctantly good at it, and she raised her wine flute in a small toast.

“To mutually beneficial work.”

“Hear, hear,” Gargeli replied, a formal smile full of admiration and respect for the sharp young woman before him working its way onto his chiseled face.

With a clink of their glasses, the deal was sealed. Gargeli would open his district more fully to the charity’s work, thousands of citizens would benefit from increased medical aid, and the charity would receive yet another new source of funds–bought and paid for with Keeda’s silence.

“Please, Governor, enjoy the evening,” she said, sweeping her hand with an elegant motion and effectively excusing herself.

Gargeli gave her a refined bow before returning to his wife’s side. Even though Pettri had been a conceited, repugnant individual, Keeda was not going to blame the father for the son’s sins. The deal had been more than fair on her part, considering what she had endured, and she had a confident feeling that the governor would not go back on his word.

Now, she had another detestable task; mingling with the upper classes. She took another long sip from her drink, hoping it would help soothe the new set of nerves making their home in her stomach, and set off into the crowd.

Several people whom she had worked with in the past caught her attention or stopped to chat with her, each offering their views on the latest cooperations with the GAR. Some approved, some did not, and some expressed their admiration for Keeda’s willingness to volunteer, but each tedious conversation seemed to draw on her energy reserves.

Even after dinner had been served—Keeda was eternally grateful her mother had not chosen that awful seafood dish to be an option—and the dancing had begun, she was finding the evening rather repetitious. She did her best to conceal it; however, there was only so much she could take.

Over the unceasing sounds of clinking glasses and light laughter filling the air, blending with the lilting music now echoing across the hall, she huffed out a weary sigh. She wished she had someone other than politicians and socialites to converse with—just someone who did not want anything from her. From the moment she stepped out of the speeder, tonight had felt more like work than the enjoyable evening she had hoped for.

Fox’s heart stuttered against his ribs as his blood seemed to freeze in his veins.

He knew from the moment he saw her that it was her. Blinking away his sudden lightheadedness, his eyes followed her every move as she wove between people, conversing briefly before moving on. They all parted for her, as though she were a goddess among mortals—even more beautiful than he remembered.

“The hell are you looking at, Vod?” Thorn asked, noting Fox’s sudden change. His older brother’s heavy brows were nearly knit together, and his scarred lips were parted in an awestruck expression. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

With Thorn’s voice pulling him out of his stupor, Fox nodded in the young woman’s direction. “She’s here,” he whispered, almost disbelieving his own words.

Thorn studied the crowd from their secluded spot—a doorway to a large, covered veranda—trying to follow Fox’s eye line. “You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

“From th-the other night. She’s… uh… Long, dark hair, with little flowers. In the green dress. It’s her,” Fox stammered quietly as his golden-haired brother looked back out to the crowd a second time.

“Oh, wow,” Thorn breathed. He knew Fox had not lied about her appearance a few days prior, but seeing her for himself, he finally understood why Fox had been so taken with her.

He snickered to himself because the Marshal Commander of the Coruscant Guard was currently staring at a beautiful woman like a love-struck shiny after their first night at 79s. “You’re sure that’s her?”

“Positive.”

Fox could not look away. She wore a perfect, congenial smile like a mask and carried herself with the grace of a queen, but her closed-off, stiff body language made Fox want to throw himself between her and the rest of the room—if only to shield her for a moment to let her breathe.

“Well, go talk to her, di’kut!” Thorn laughed, nudging his ori’vod with a sharp elbow. “She looks like she could use better company than these stuffy nat-borns.” Fox opened his mouth to protest, but Thorn stopped him. “Go. You’d be shocked to know the boys and I can survive without your constant vigilance.”

Seeing her stealthily step out another door on the opposite side of the hall and onto the wrap-around veranda, Fox nearly sprinted out the door beside him—with no thanks to a playful swat on the ass from Thorn. It felt like his heart was about to jump through his nose as he quickly strode to where she had withdrawn.

Okay… okay… What am I gonna say to her? he rambled internally. Just ask her how she is, yeah? Ask her if she’s all right. No, why would she be all right? It’s only been a few days since… No, don’t bring that up unless she does. Just tell her… tell her she looks nice. She’d like to hear that. Right? Fuck. Fuck, I am an idiot. I did not think this through!

Nevertheless, his feet propelled him forward. He paused and pressed his back against the cool alabaster wall just before turning the final corner of the building. Fox had never had any issues talking to women before, so why was he so unexpectedly flustered now? Straightening his spotless uniform, he blew out a long sigh, puffing his cheeks and clenching his fists.

Pull yourself together, Fox. You’re a kriffing Marshal Commander. You can do this.

The muffled silence was a welcome relief as Keeda stepped out of the hall. Taking a heady gulp of the chilly night air, she did not mind the goosebumps that broke out over her exposed skin as she rested her hands against the sleek metal railing. It was too cold for anyone else to want to follow her, and she needed a moment to recollect herself.

The crowds had begun gathering around to watch those waltzing about on the dance floor, and stronger liquor had begun flowing as a medley of desserts was served, but Keeda had opted to let Coruscant’s skyline dazzle her for the thousandth time instead.

Letting her eyes drift shut, she tried to savor the quiet moment and soak up the soft warmth radiating from the outdoor heater beside her. She could still see the twinkling fairy lights all around her from behind her eyelids, and she watched as they played across her blinded vision. If she had a blanket, she would have been content to stay right there until the sun rose.

Tomorrow, there would be no skyline–only the swirling blue and silver streaks of hyperspace, whisking her off to a war-torn world to deliver medical relief supplies, and she was eager for it. Like she had told June, Coruscant would always be home, but she needed to get away for a while.

She mentally grumbled as her moment was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps that ceased a few yards behind her. She half expected to find yet another aristocrat asking her to dance when she opened her eyes, but she was shocked to her very core when she looked over her shoulder.

Him. It was him. The clone commander that had come to her aid.

Keeda felt her eyes widen in surprise as he gazed at her. He was clean-shaven now, and his tussled, greying curls had been elegantly styled back, but his umber eyes still glimmered in the lights with the same care and warmth he had shown her just a few nights ago.

“You,” she breathed without thinking. Immediately, she cursed her impropriety and stumbled over her words. “I’m s-sorry. I-I meant—”

“It’s you,” he echoed softly, stepping closer. The commander cracked a roguish, bright smile—his mouth pulling a touch more to the right because of the scar on his bottom lip. “You look lovely tonight.”

“Thank you,” she replied, and she was powerless to stop the blush creeping up her cheeks. She could tell he was trying to put her at ease, and she could not help the little grin that broke over her painted lips.

“I never expected to see you here,” he chuckled. His voice was low and gravelly, and his eyes never left hers. “I’m glad to see you.”

“You’re too kind, Commander. If I’m being truthful, though, up till now, I’d have rather been elsewhere.”

“Really?” he asked curiously, crooking an eyebrow and tossing his gaze back into the hall for a moment. “Even with all these fine, upstanding, utterly boring people here?”

There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice, and Keeda instantly relaxed despite the draft blowing across the veranda. She surprised herself with the giggle that bubbled up in her chest at his comment, and she realized it was the first time she had genuinely laughed all evening.

“May I join you?” he asked, motioning to her opposite side. At Keeda’s permitting nod, he came to stand beside her, blocking the breeze and looking out over the ecumenopolis.

Even while leaning down on the railing and without his signature armor, he was still so very tall and broad. His hard muscles filled out his uniform, pulling at the fabric and defining his figure, and it made Keeda wonder just how strong he was.

“Are you cold?” he asked thoughtfully.

Keeda shook her head faintly as she pulled out of her thoughts. She felt wholly safe beside him, as though he were an immovable wall protecting her from the cold and from the prying eyes of anyone who dared to look at her the wrong way.

That inkling of guilt she had felt as she was whisked away in the extravagant transport suddenly came crawling back. The last time she had seen this man, he had protected her, but she had spoken so harshly to him. She had feared she would never get the chance to apologize, and she was not about to let that chance slip away.

“Commander, I… I never thanked you properly… for the other night,” she said rather sheepishly.

He gave her a slightly puzzled look and shook his head almost imperceptibly, his eyes immediately coming to rest on her face again. “There’s no need to thank me.”

“Yes, there is,” Keeda insisted, gripping the railing and fighting the urge to shudder as she recalled the past for the dozenth time. “You and your men helped me. Something much worse might’ve happened if you hadn’t been there, and I shouldn’t have been so coarse.”

The gentlest look crossed his handsome, rounded features–one of both complete understanding and consideration.

“You had every right to be,” he assured. “I have no doubt you could’ve taken care of yourself, but I’m glad I was there to help you.”

Keeda toyed nervously with a silver ring on her index finger as she carried on, “In any case, it’s no excuse for my behavior. I hope you’ll accept my apology, Commander.”

He turned to face her fully, leaning casually on one elbow and eyeing her charmingly. “I will, on one condition.”

How can he still look so powerful when he’s relaxed like that? Keeda asked herself, waiting for his request. He had somehow changed the very air around her so quickly that she found herself letting go of the ache in her chest.

“Will you tell me your name?”

Whatever he was doing to make her feel so calm was mesmerizing, but she could also detect a more playful tone in his question.

“The name of someone from a crowd so upstanding and boring?” she teased, and he chuckled so heartily that Keeda swore she could feel it in her chest, prompting another laugh of her own.

“You are anything but boring.”

She pursed her lips for a moment but gave him a cheeky grin. “Ah, but you don’t know that for sure, and I’d hate for you to think I am. So, I propose we play a little game to ensure I’m not. Have you ever played two truths and a lie?”

“Two truths and a lie?” he asked inquisitively.

Keeda nodded, fidgeting with her ring again. “I’ll tell you three things about myself. If you guess the lie, I have to tell you the truth about the lie. If you guess wrong, it’s your turn.”

The intrigued commander cocked a brow at her and smirked. “Very well, ladies first.”

She chewed her lip for a moment in thought, before settling on her lie. “My mother is the chairwoman of the foundation hosting this gala, I had a pet tooka when I was a child, and my name is Alana. Which is the lie?”

The weight of the commander’s gaze was encapsulating. As he analyzed her, she felt drawn into the depths of those dark, stunning eyes, where the twinkling lights shone off little flecks of gold.

“Your name isn’t Alana,” he said finally.

“You’re right,” she conceded with a giggle. “My name is Keeda.”

The commander did not say anything for a moment, but his expression noticeably softened. Keeda was not sure he was going to say anything until he muttered a single strange word, one she suspected was not Basic.

“Sorry?” she inquired.

“Mesh’la,” he repeated, a little louder the second time, as his cheeks darkened. “It’s Mando’a. It means ‘beautiful’.”

Keeda was certain her cheeks matched her lips with how hard she was blushing. His lips barely moved whenever he spoke, but his clear words had an impact on her so deep that she could practically feel the resonance of them in her bones, even despite how softly they were uttered.

Unlike so many others tonight that had tried to woo her attention with overly-enunciated accents and pretty words, the true sincerity in his tone rang clear. His voice was so rich, like a lovely bass note—deep, smooth, matching the dark brown of his irises, and she suddenly craved to hear it again.

“Y-your turn, Commander,” Keeda whispered, trying to feel for the floor beneath her feet.

He must have had his answers ready because he spoke without hesitation. “My favorite color is red, my name is Fox, and I’m a particularly good dancer.”

Keeda’s conscience came drifting back to reality as she mulled that over. Would he lie about his name, too? she wondered. It seemed logical, and she was normally very accurate when it came to noticing lies, but he could also have been trying to throw her off. He had never looked her in the eye at all, though, choosing to focus on the little flowers woven through her hair.

Sighing as she gave up trying to guess, Keeda settled on his name. “I… I don’t think your name is Fox.”

He flashed that white smile again. It contrasted so beautifully against his bronzed skin, and for the first time, she realized that she was more dazzled by the handsome man in front of her than the skyline she had come out to observe. His mere presence was brighter than any of the lights twinkling around them, and he exuded an affection that quieted any troubles in her mind.

“My name is Fox,” he said truthfully.

“Fox,” she repeated, bowing her head in mock defeat. “You’ve bested me. Where’d you learn to lie so well?”

“You pick up a thing or two when you’re around politicians all—”

As if on cue, he was interrupted as a group of guests came out onto the veranda, laughing boisterously and talking amongst themselves, trying to ward off the buzz they had going with the cool night air.

Keeda silently glared at them for having dared interrupt the peace, but they took no notice. They took their time wandering away, but the door they had opened let a new melody waft outside. It was a slower tune, but just as grand and orchestral as the others that had been playing all evening.

Distracted, Keeda swayed her weight from one foot to the other to the music, feeling the skirt of her dress fluttering around her legs. It had been so long since she danced, and her thoughts drifted back to the last time her father had taught her the steps of several common waltzes in the middle of their living room.

She heard Fox shift and clear his throat softly beside her to get her attention, and as she turned back, she found the commander smiling kindly and holding out his hand to her.

“Will you do me the honor?” he asked, tucking his gloves into his pocket.

“Another truth?” she asked, resting her hand in his palm. His hand was calloused and strong, but his fingers were long and warm as they closed around hers ever so tenderly, leading her to the middle of the veranda.

The crowd had thinned a bit for the evening, and Keeda suspected this would be one of the last dances of the night, but she was glad to share it with Fox. They had the whole space to themselves, and she was no longer aware of any other eyes on her apart from his.

Her breath caught in her throat when she felt his other hand settle around her bare lower back beneath her hair. His fingertips left trails of fire in their wake as they gently grazed her air-cooled skin, but she eased into his hold as he began guiding her down the length of the veranda. The steps he chose were uncomplicated, but she was impressed with the natural skill he seemed to possess as he swept her down the length of the open space.

“You were definitely telling the truth,” she laughed giddily, enjoying how easily they moved together.

He arched his left arm and twirled her out beneath it before stepping in and sweeping her back into his grasp. “Don’t tell anyone, but I have my brother to thank for that,” Fox admitted, slowing a fraction with the timing of the music.

“Don’t you have a million brothers?” Keeda asked lightheartedly.

The man she was dancing with now looked so different from the stoic commander she had first met. A single stray curl had fallen loose on his forehead as he spun her around himself, and he practically beamed at her.

“This one is special. He somehow inherited all the natural dancing talent, so we just copied him. He’s the commander of the 104th battalion.”

Keeda stumbled in surprise, gripping Fox’s burly shoulder for support, but he was quicker and gathered her into a graceful spin to let her recover, bringing her body flush to his as the music crescendoed.

A star could have exploded between them with the heat of their bodies pressed together, and Keeda would have happily melted into it. The unexpected rush of adrenaline clouded her peripheral vision as Fox effortlessly lifted her off her feet, but his arm secured around her waist kept her grounded.

After gently resting her back on her feet, Fox was the first to break the contact—although he seemed incredibly reluctant to do so–to continue leading her through the dance. He could feel the strength of her lean muscles beneath his touch, and he had no doubt of just how capable she was, but here she seemed so precious in his hold as if she were his to safeguard. Her smile, the blooming trust in her sparkling eyes, and the surety of her grasp on him made him feel lighter than he had in years.

“I’m assigned to the 104th as their official volunteer,” Keeda said quickly, remembering why she had misstepped in the first place.

Fox chuckled, remembering himself and spinning her out again just to show her off to anyone who might be watching. “You’ll like Wolffe. We grew up together as batchmates. He’s very stubborn and gruff, but he has a good heart.”

They stepped together again as the music ceased and the hall beside them burst into applause. The other dancers and guests began to say their goodbyes, but Fox and Keeda simply stood there under the twinkling lights, panting together from the exertion of the dance.

As Fox continued to hold her, Keeda drank in the woodsy, slightly spicy scent of him mixed with the fragrance of the flowers in her hair. She could not bring herself to put any more distance between herself and the commander, and she actively fought the urge to lean back into his embrace.

He gently brushed the back of her hand with his calloused thumb and would have been content to stay as long as she liked, but the commlink on his wrist beeped. Still holding her hand, Fox released her slender waist and turned his right wrist over to silence the beeping.

“Ah, forgive me. Duty calls.”

As his fingers brushed over the device, Keeda noticed the knuckles on his right hand were slightly blotched with fresh bruises.

“I… I hope I’ll see you again, Fox.”

He grinned down at her and gave her fingers a delicate squeeze. “Me too. Be safe, Keeda. I’d trust him with my life, so do whatever Wolffe tells you to do.”

She felt a pang of longing as his hand left hers, and he turned to join the other guardsmen waiting in the shadows at the other end of the veranda. How long have they been standing there? she wondered, the heat lighting up her cheeks.

It did not truly matter, though, because her heart stuttered as a deep ache crept into her chest with the blush, and she yearned to be near him just one more time.

“Fox, wait!” she called, and he was immediately before her again with a questioning look on his face. “Please, before you go… what’s your favorite color?”

Although he virtually towered over her, Fox took her hand again and bowed slightly, capturing her gaze once more. His lips were warm and delicate as he pressed an impossibly soft kiss against the smooth, thin skin of Keeda’s knuckles, and a mixture of shock and delight flooded through her body.

Smiling brilliantly at her, he replied, “Green.”

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#commander fox #marshal commander fox #commander fox x ofc #commander caf #oc: keeda ionza #cc 1010 #coruscant guard #corrie guard #corries #star wars #the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #wip sweet true lies #sleepingsun501 writes #i love fox and would defend him with my life

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wild-karrde · 1 year

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Hi Karrde! This is my first time recommending something for Fandom Friday, so this is exciting for me! Thank you for doing this; it's so nice to make sure everyone in the fandom is appreciated for their contributions! (my Star Wars account is @starstofillmydream, so let's just pretend I'm recommending things from that account 😂)

These works have already been recommended many a time before, but I wanted to recommend them because rereading these works always brings a smile to my face!

I trust him, and he trusts me by @enigmaticexplorer

I'm obsessed with the dynamic between Wolffe and Fox Alli wrote here, as well as the touching on the main theme of trust.

Sweet True Lies by @sleepingsun501

This series is everything. Two very unlikely people falling in love? Amazing. I love Keeda's characterization as being upper crust in galactic society, but being committed to make changes for the better. A true heroine and role model!

Captain's Log by @rexxdjarin

Julie has such a passion for her OC Mari and Rex, the strength of their relationship, and their navigation of a post-Order 66/post-Republic galaxy.

HECK YES WELCOME TO THE FRAY!!! I AM EXCITED FOR YOU!!! AND THANK YOU FOR THE RECS!!! All of these fics are SO WONDERFUL in their own right. You are SO right about how Alli wrote the dynamics between Wolffe and Fox and how gradually it built. I have absolutely inhaled every crumb of STL and adore learning more about Keeda and watching her relationship with Fox develop. And Julie puts so much care into Mari, and it's so evident in how she writes the relationship between her and Rex. These are all FANTASTIC and THANK YOU for sending them in!

Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)

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shiftbit · 1 year

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would you sit still? you’re gonna get an infection if you don’t let me clean this up.

RANDOM SENTENCE STARTERS // ACCEPTING

THERES A SIGH —-— and then a wince, and then a flinch. FIDGETING as the other pokes and prods at his injuries. if she wouldn’t have made him sit down he’d be pacing the room, trying to walk it all off. but he knows better, at least now. but god is it FRUSTRATING. having to get rescued by your SITUATIONSHIP who also happened to be a vigilante ( now that’s a story to tell the grandkids. )

“ — c’mon jane… it’s just some bruises. maybe a scratch or two. i totally had that guy! ” another wince as she wipes the alcohol onto the cut on his face. fuck this was EMBARRASSING. “ you don’t have to babysit me all the time. im a hero too y’know. did you see the papers this morning? ” there was some HALF—BAKED article about the new ‘ — DYNAMIC DUO. ’ whoever wrote it called him the ‘ spider guy. ’ and to be fair the name fit well. he’s rather proud of himself for making the news. too bad no one can know he’s the one in the mask.

#spidermac #im crying keeda

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ariadnes-red-thread · 2 years

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Aria!! Ok so for the OC headcanons ask…

I feel like Keeda and Mal would be besties because of their medical backgrounds. While Keeda would give up her medical studies to pursue finance instead, she would be totally supportive of Mal and so proud of her for becoming a medic. I feel like they’d briefly cross paths again as they’re both assigned to the 104th, and Keeda would take up Mal’s mantle as the Wolfpack’s moral support figure when Mal joins the 501st. I think Keeda would always keep Mal up to date on the Wolfpack, making sure she knows Wolffe is being forced to eat and sleep and take care of himself so she won’t worry. And they’d trade stories about all the shenanigans the boys get up to.

June and Mal… dear god two redheads = double trouble 😂😂 they would have so much fun together, and they would definitely come running to each other when they need to vent or need a night out. I also think June would constantly be bringing Mal new plants to have in her apartment, keeping her surrounded by the comforting greenery she knows Mal loves.

YES! I love this. I think Keeda would bring out Mal’s strong, steady side and they would RUN that medbay through any crisis. I could also see, after the transfer, Mal sending Keeda a comm like <Has Wolffe eaten today> and when Keeda reminds him to eat, he promptly tells both her and Mal to fuck off (but he does go get a snack and glass of water).

June and Mal would cause SO MUCH havoc!! They totally would feed off of each other on a night out and I just see Keeda being dragged along on their adventures because she’s afraid to leave them to their own devices 😂 and I love the idea of June bringing Mal plants! I think Mal would love to visit the greenhouse and help out June when she’s on leave ❤️

#answered asks #ariadne speaks #oc: mal darroch #oc: june makano #oc: keeda ionza #oc ask game

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rexxdjarin · 2 years

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Babes you know how much I love Mari, I couldn’t resist this.

Mari and June are so extremely similar, and they would have an absolute ball picking up guys together (at least until Mari meets Rex). They would hype each other up so much and always have each other’s backs. They’ve also both got fiery tempers and are willing to fight anybody who badmouths the clones or their friends.

Keeda and Mari would get along amazingly, too. They would have incredible respect for each other personally and for each other’s work with relief efforts—which would probably often put them in the same circles. And also Keeda would be the one who comes to bail Mari and June out of jail 😅😅

Send Headcanons of Our OCs Relationship

ERIN!!!!!! listen Mari and June are getting drinks from the handsomest hottest lifeforms of all species in the galaxy. They’re getting into fights and taking shots and arguing about Republic politics in bars. They are each others wing women for sure and they’ve slept with their fair share of men…enough to have some crazy stories and lots of experience. They’d be the girls at the bar that turn every head and make the entire night of everyone there. I can’t even begin to explain the crazy adventures they’d get into together. I LOVE their friendship.

Keeda…literally is bringing them space liquid iv the morning after and making sure they’ve been taking their contraceptives and visiting the appropriate doctors to make sure they’re all healthy and what not. She respects Mari’s work the same way Mari respects hers and she’d totally be pulling to her to get the next open spot on the Human Rights Committee with Padmé or Bail. I think Keeda would be her mom friend 💙

#oc asks #oc: mari vontas #oc: keeda ionza #oc: june makano

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sporadicthingcollection · 1 year

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La faccia infarina (LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy swears at a child, draws on his face, and experiences a revelation. Pairing: LA!Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Semi-explicit. Word Count: ~1.4k. Warnings: Pregnancy mention, childbirth mention, a lot of swearing.

A/N: i'm ovulating so please enjoy an episode of what i like to call Reproducing With Men Who Should Not Be Trusted With Children.

Doing his makeup is much easier when there's no distractions to occupy him. Unfortunately, he's got a big one today and, for once, it isn't you trying to get into his pants.

Though that exact scenario is definitely what resulted in this new distraction. It was either that or the time after the party.

"Don't even think about it," Buggy says firmly.

Keeda grabs a drawer and tries to yank it open. A disembodied foot gently nudges him away. The boy stares at him in indignation, then blows a raspberry. He reaches again, whining when the foot still bars his way.

Buggy raises a brow at him. "Getting fresh, huh?" Another raspberry. "Floor privileges revoked."

He picks the boy up by the collar and plops him in his lap. He squeaks and squeals, trying to squirm away, but Buggy holds him tight.

"Y'know, I liked you better when you were a prop," he says. He swipes his lipstick along his cheeks. "You'd just lay there and make noises and shit yourself. None of this 'trying to kill yourself when I'm not looking' shtick."

Keeda resigns himself to his prison and is now pouting, making little huffs. He glances up with big, pleading eyes, lower lip quivering.

Buggy scoffs. "Don't try that pathos crap on me. I know what you look like when you're about to cry."

A long, low whine makes Buggy falter. Uh oh. He glances down.

Keeda lunges upwards, trying to grab the lipstick. Buggy pops his hand off just out of reach -- this is the expensive stuff. Can't have a baby eating it. Again.

"What's gotten into you today?" Keeda lunges again. Buggy pops his second hand off to cap the lipstick and stick it back in the drawer. "Sheesh, kid. Cool it."

"Bappo," Keeda says with a glare. Baby for pay attention to me, asshole, I'm right here.

A lightbulb goes off. He pulls a bag of pigment sticks from the drawer and dumps them onto the table. "You want your face done like Daddy's?" He spins the boy around to face the vanity. "Pick your war paint."

Keeda scans the selection and, with short chubby fingers, he selects a blue pigment stick. He then tries to shove it in his mouth, but Buggy grabs it before he can chomp it.

Buggy smiles as he regards the color. He was wearing this when he met you -- diamonds over his eyes as he tried to kill you. From hating his guts to fucking him stupid to bearing his child. How times change.

He takes the boy's cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. He can't believe he's still so damn small. A year in and he figured he'd be more... child-sized. Buggy's still afraid a strong breeze will shatter the kid like glass.

With gentle hands, he draws. Short strokes are best on soft, chubby skin with a lot of give. Keeda gazes at him all the while. He's got your eyes, warm and dark as charcoal.

Buggy licks his thumb and smooths out the edges. Keeda presses into his touch like a cat and gives him a smile, one that he can't help but return.

The idea of fatherhood terrified him. Horrified him. He thought about turning himself into the Marines right then and there. If his old captain couldn't do it, how could he be expected to do it? He's not half as competent as everyone seems to believe and you know he's a buffoon. Why would you want to have his kid?

Buggy finishes the diamonds and spins the boy to face the mirror. "Well?"

Keeda squints at himself. He touches his reflection. After a moment of contemplation, he speaks. "Fsshala."

He's been saying that a lot lately. You keep telling him that it's just nonsense babbling, but Buggy knows the truth.

"I agree," he says. "Let's make it flashy!"

He spins the boy back around, making him giggle. Truly the world's most remarkable sound.

He still doesn't have an answer for why you put yourself through nine months of pure terror. Was it your selfish desire for a family? Or did you see a truth hidden deep in his soul, so deep that he had no idea it existed until he held his son for the first time, still bright pink and howling?

Carefully, he traces two long lines up from the tips of the diamonds. He crosses them at the middle of his forehead, curls them into a heart, and adorns it with dots.

As is, Keeda looks more like you. Your dark hair, your dark eyes... and your nose, thank fucking god. He couldn't live with himself if his monstrosity was inheritable.

He was worried at first. How could he be sure that he's your son's father? He trusts you, but there was always that doubt gnawing at the back of his head until a few months in, when Keeda started getting expressive. In every giggle, in every glower, in every grin, there was Buggy the Clown.

Speaking of smiles, his mouth looks a little bare. A nice golden yellow would suit him.

Buggy picks up the pigment stick in one hand and smushes the boy's cheeks together with the other. "Pucker up, buttercup."

Keeda squirms a bit as he paints his mouth, swirling the corners up into cute little spirals. He licks his lips and sputters. "Pfeh!"

Buggy chuckles. "Weren't like that last week. You loved the stuff." He lifts the boy and spins him around to see his reflection. "Now you're lookin' more like your old man."

Keeda stares at himself. He tips his head one way, then the other. His eyes narrow and his brows furrow. He lets out a low, pensive whine.

Oh no. Does he not like it? Is he going to cry? Please don't cry. "Wait wait wait." He turns him around and lifts him to stand on his lap. "Don't get upset--"

A little spark flashes in the boy's eyes. The frown vanishes and he reaches up, tiny fingers grabbing for something.

Buggy's gotten enough hair ripped out to jerk away on impulse. "Something on my face?"

A tiny hand baps him on the nose. Buggy flinches. Fuckin' thing in the way again.

He angles his head, waiting for Keeda to tap what he was really aiming for. And again, he gets bapped right on the nose.

...no. There's no way.

Another bap, this time with an impatient glower. "Isso," Keeda says firmly. Baby talk for this.

Buggy's heart is in his throat as he picks up the red pigment stick. With shaky hands, he outlines the boy's nose -- a cute little button -- and draws a circle.

He swallows thickly. He clenches his jaw. He turns him around.

Keeda's eyes widen, then scrunch into crescents as he lets out a delighted squeal. "Papa!" he says, grinning up at Buggy. He flops backwards back into his lap, giggling and wiggling. "Papa!"

He's not sure how long he sits there at the vanity, listening to his baby chatter happily, but it must be awhile because you eventually come calling.

"Oh, there you guys are,” you say. "You chuckleheads having fun without me?"

"Amama!" Keeda stands in Buggy's lap and waves at you. He points at the mirror. "Issoooooo."

You appear at Buggy's shoulder, grinning brilliantly. "Aw, look at you," you croon. "Did Daddy do your makeup? Or did you get into his shit when he wasn't looking?"

Buggy's voice comes out in a tight croak. "I did it."

"Well, damn, it looks great! You never do my makeup that well--" Your gaze flickers to him in the mirror, and your smile vanishes. "...Are you crying?"

He sniffles. Loudly. "No."

You give him one of your do-you-need-a-psych-eval looks. "Bugs, your mascara's running."

Something hot and wet rolls down to his chin. "No, it's not."

You look at his reflection in the mirror, then back to him. "Either smile or cry. Doing both is freaking me out."

He wraps his arms around Keeda, pulling him close and squeezing him tight. "Fuckin' love you so much, you little shit," he murmurs into his hair.

Keeda squeals and giggles.

---

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#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #keeda the clown

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outdoorkeedanorthstate · 2 days

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Bungee Jumping: Leap into Adventure | outdooorkeeda

#outdoor keeda #himachalpradesh #bungee jumping #rishikesh #uttrakhand #goa

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vishal26aug · 1 month

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youtube

#youtube #wishy vish #nature #vishalsharma #mountains #traveling #vishal26aug #keeda jadi #military cordiceps

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cevherien · 5 months

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Keeda see joel kidnap reader lmfao- or like have a solid convo

im going to be honest i did not understand anything from this ask 🤞😔

#who is keeda #why is joel kidnapping reader #can someone elaborate 😭#inboxd 🍒🍓

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sporadicthingcollection · 11 months

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Eppur è d'uopo, sforzati! (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which a stork arrives early, Buggy has a rough day, and you get what you deserve. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: Clean. Word Count: ~1.5k. Warnings: Pregnancy, childbirth, exploitation of a Devil Fruit power. A/N: good news is that i'm not ovulating anymore bad news is that i got a mental image in my head that wouldn't go away so i'm subjecting you guys to it too. also, this buggy has more of the anime version in him, so just a heads up!

---

It was a power move, plain and simple. Boa Hancock, Warlord of the Sea, refusing to negotiate with anyone away from Amazon Lily. And Buggy, having drawn the short straw, gets ordered under threat of revocation of his title to go do it.

So not only does he have to brave Sea Kings in the Calm Belt, he doesn't even get to go ashore when he gets there. No, he has to send the female crew to deal with it.

And, to make matters worse, you insisted upon going with them. You, with swollen ankles and an aching back. You, waddling around and damn near ready to pop. You, eight and half months pregnant with not just any child, but his child.

How could you be so callous and cruel to him like this? Where do you get off on tormenting him with the knowledge that, if something happens, he won’t be able to get to you? It’s pure sadism is what it is, and he’s wearing a rut in the deck trying to get his mind off of it.

A distant scream splits the air.

Your scream.

---

Nine months. Babies come out at nine months. That's how it's always been, that’s how it always will be.

So then why, oh why, does this little asshole decide to pop out at eight and a half?

A wave of pain wracks you. You double over in your chair.

You suppose you're lucky. You’re in a palace in a private room with a bed, a tub of warm water, anything you could possibly need. The midwife, Cassandra, has gentle hands and comforting words. Dozens of women show up to fuss over you and encourage you, a number of them mothers themselves. Dahlia brings food, Gloriosa sings songs, Marguerite and Sandersonia hold your hands when the contractions get worse.

Even the Pirate Empress herself pays the occasional visit, albeit under the excuse to scold you for making a ridiculous amount of noise. But she always lingers with a curious gaze, and commands that more bedding be brought or that “I must be prepared for when I bear the child of my beloved,” whatever the hell that means.

Too bad they don’t have any morphine.

---

The only thing stopping Buggy from collapsing into a million parts is that he has completely locked up. He cannot move his head, his fingers, his eyes, everything is frozen stiff.

Fortunately for him, Galdino asks the question for him. “She’s what?”

“I just told you: in labor.” Alvida is way too calm. She dusts her coat, adjusts her hat, buffs out a scuff on her fingernails. “Her water broke right in the middle of the discussion. Three hours of political maneuvering, wasted.”

“I think we got it sorted, though.” The strongwoman shakes her head. “Poor gal. Of all the dumb luck.”

Another scream rips the air. Everyone flinches.

It cuts through Buggy like a knife through... well, himself. He gets his senses back and only one thing consumes his mind.

He vaults over the side of the ship. Kuja laws be damned, he needs to get to you, even if he has to swim for it. Before you get hurt. Or killed. Or worse.

He only realizes the mistake he’s made when he hits the water.

---

You blink in disbelief. “It’s what?”

“Upside-down,” Cassandra says. She adjusts her glasses. “If my intuition is correct, it’s coming out rear end first.”

Breech birth. You suppose you shouldn’t be surprised. Your grandmother was a breech, your mother was a breech, your niece was a breech... Breeches all the way down in your family.

And, considering its father, of course the little fucker’s an acrobat.

You groan and fall backwards. Part of you is glad he’s not here. You’d strangle him. The other part wishes he was here. So you could strangle him. And rip his balls off. Hell, you might just do that anyways. DIY orchiectomy.

A contraction wracks you and you yelp.

---

What do you do with a distraught sailor, when the sun is highest?

Hold him back from swimming to the island. He’ll kick and thrash and escape all three of the strongmen and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will have to jump in and fish him out.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the evening?

Lock him up in a cage with Richie. He’ll cut himself to ribbons and slip through the bars and sneak past everyone on deck and throw himself overboard and Cabaji, having just finally gotten himself into dry clothes, will have to take another dip.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, at the witching hour?

Clamp him to the mast with Seastone handcuffs. He’ll pick up a nail on deck and pick the lock and outrun everyone trying to catch him and throw himself overboard and Cabaji will make Mohji jump in this time because he’s getting really sick of this bullshit.

What do you do with a distraught sailor, early in the morning?

Hack off his hands and arms and noggin, throw the Seastone cuffs on his ankles, tie his torso to the mast, stuff his own bandanna in his mouth, then post up guards.

Even gagged, Buggy’s screams rival yours.

---

Just when you’re ready to give up the ghost and will yourself into unconscious bliss, you feel it. Something gives. Then something else. With one mighty push, one mighty curse, and one mighty splat, your child is born.

The baby howls like a beast. You suppose you’d be screaming too if you were covered in shit and viscera and had a full head of hair.

You want to hold it. You need to hold it. "Give-- Gimme it," you sputter.

Cassandra, hands it to you. "A boy," she says.

You’re ashamed to be a little disappointed. Based on the talk, you were hoping for a girl. But it all fades as you hold him in your arms and bring him to your chest, overwhelmed by a tide of hormones and emotion.

He’s a little funny-looking, with his pink skin and little stretched face and his legs at weird angles. But he’s here. A baby. Your baby. Buggy’s baby.

You start to sob.

---

Buggy is once again frozen stiff. He wants nothing more than to help you back aboard, hold your hand as you step over the railing, and escort you to his cabin. It would be the absolute least he could do.

But no. He’s stuck up here on the quarterdeck, doing even less than that. He watches as you make your way up the stairs, clutching a bundle wrapped in a floral-patterned blanket. Dark circles ring your eyes and your gait is stiff and exhausted.

Say something. Anything. “You look like hell,” he says. Goddammit.

Fortunately for him, you huff in amusement. “I’ve certainly been through hell.” You stand closer and angle the bundle towards him. “Wanna see what I found there?”

His hand hovers over the corner of the blanket. What if it’s dead? What if it’s got a dog’s face? What if its hair is red? What if it’s got its father’s--?

“Just look, Buggy,” you scold.

He swallows. He pulls back the corner.

Nestled in the blankets, blinking in the light, is a miniature you. A head full of thick dark hair, already starting to curl at the ends. Dark eyes, peering at him the same way you do. And, right in the middle of its chubby little face, your delicately curved nose.

Heat fills his belly with smoke. He recognizes this emotion. It’s the same one as when he sees someone waving around a treasure map. When he spies a chest overflowing with gold. When he first laid eyes on you.

He can hardly hear his own voice. “She’s gorgeous.”

“He,” you say. Buggy looks at you. You smile. “He’s a boy.”

A boy. A boy. His boy. Your boy. He has a son. You gave him a son.

The smoke catches fire and sets his whole body alight. He snatches the baby -- his son! -- from your arms and holds him -- his son! -- up high, presenting him -- his son! -- to the assembled crew like a boxer holding up a champion belt.

He shouts, bellows, screams for the whole world to hear: “I have a son!”

A cacophony of cheers goes up from every man and woman on the deck and, for a few moments, everything is right in the world. Mohji throws his arms around Cabaji. The strongwoman picks up Galdino and spins him around. Alvida smiles as she leans against her mace. Richie roars. Even the Kuja who escorted you back whoop.

Wait a damn minute. You did all the work. You made his son. You pushed him out. All he did was be in the right place at the right time with a bad pullout game.

He places the baby back in your arms and sweeps you into his own, separating his trunk from his legs to raise you up even higher. He wants to shout something eloquent, an ode to your strength and beauty, a paean to your power, a declaration that you are the greatest treasure he’s ever stolen.

But all that comes out, through snot and tears that he didn’t even realize were flowing, is a garbled, blubbered, “I love this woman!”

The cheers only grow, joined by your clattery laughter.

---

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