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starboyshoyo · 1 year

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Unspoken Words

Characters: All NRC students x reader (seperately)

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland

Genre: hurt/comfort

Unspoken reasons why the NRC boys love you!

HEARTSLABYUL

Riddle Rosehearts seems like perfection; like the very image of what one should strive for. Anyone who knows him can admire his hard work and diligence, because that is the extent to what they can see. But you see his delight at the simplest of things; things that he never got to experience in childhood. Riddle holds you dear to him because you encourage his rare moments of whimsy, and love them wholly- just as he loves you.

Trey Clover is always being told that he should aim higher, because the talent he holds would be squandered should he go down the path of the simple village baker. He smiles and politely tells them that he’ll consider it- but really, he’s tired of the input he never wanted in the first place. It’s all the more reason to appreciate the way you trust in his dreams. Trey knows what he wants, and you won’t push him for anything more.

Cater Diamond has two different sides, like the faces on a card. Sometimes he’s the party-loving Cay-kun, and other times he wants nothing more than to collapse in his bed and sleep the day away. Being Cay-kun is exhausting. It’s not entirely him but he can’t seem to bring himself to show the real Cater to anyone but you, because you understand that the mask is necessary sometimes. It’s okay if he’s not ready to show the world his face yet. You’ll be waiting for him when he is.

Bluntly honest is the best way to describe Ace Trappola. If someone asked, he’d call himself a realist. He’s not here to mess around or play the hero. And sometimes that can hurt people’s feelings and push them away. But being truthful and being mean are two different things, and he knows he can always trust you to tell him when he oversteps. Ace may fumble from time to time, so he’s glad you’re always there to help him back up.

Deuce Spade was reluctant to begin dating you at first. He wasn’t proud of who he was in middle school, nor is he proud of who he is at the moment. He thought that he was unworthy of you, that he needed more time to grow. When he first figured out that you weren’t the most perfect person either, it didn’t turn him away. In fact, it relieved him. Deuce loves that you can be imperfect together- and that you’re willing to grow alongside him even more.

SAVANACLAW

Leona Kingscholar is used to being the spare; the disposable one. Even though he’s the second prince of the Sunset Savannah, even though he was born into a life of privilege, he knows what it’s like to have to fight for yourself and your place in the world. When he met you, he could hardly believe that for once, a fight wasn’t necessary. It took a while for him to trust, but now Leona knows that he will always be your first choice, as you will be his.

From the outside, Ruggie Bucchi’s obsession over food is a bit excessive. Does one really need to defend every scrap with his life? He’s tired of others laughing at the way he packs snacks in his bag and sneaks crumbs off the tabletop. It’s telling that you hand him extras when you don’t have to, that you make sure he always has more than he needs. It shows that you value the things he values, so that he can do the same in return to you.

Jack Howl is a lone wolf, just like his name. He’s always relied on his own strength to get by. Owing a debt is like putting his life in someone else’s hands, so accepting favors is something that he’ll never do. When he first realizes he loves you, it’s hard to accept that another person now holds a part of his heart. But give him some time and he’ll begin to appreciate having someone to share the burden with. It’s refreshing to have company without debt or guilt.

OCTAVINELLE

They say those who have suffered the most have the most empathy. Azul Ashengrotto thinks there must be something wrong with him, then. After all the ridicule he’s endured, all he wants is to watch his tormentors cry as well. So why does his heart beat so fast then, when he sees how kind you are to others? There’s so little logic to it- but the heart wants what it wants.

Jade Leech gives only as much as he takes. In his mismatched eyes, it’s only reasonable that a transaction is balanced on both sides. So it’s a surprise to him when you don’t demand everything to be split, fifty-fifty. It’s with you that he learns the connection between trust and equals. Not having to count out every exchange leaves Jade more time to love you with all his heart.

Floyd Leech is notorious for his mercurial behavior. It’s a laughing matter for some students, and the target of frustration for many others when he fails to show the same enthusiasm he had before. If he’s already in a bad mood, then why are they making it worse by nagging him? You’re his retreat in times like that, because you take his emotions seriously, no matter how ridiculous they seem in the moment.

SCARABIA

Kalim Al-Asim knows he can be dense. As the heir to a merchant empire, he’s got some level of self-awareness in him, even if he doesn’t always know how to use it. He can tell when he’s said the wrong thing to you. The wringing of hands, the twisting of brows make him so nervous, but he can’t do anything but laugh it off lest he say something to make it worse. So he appreciates it when you patiently explain to him how you feel, even when you’re not in the mood to. Sometimes he just needs help to understand.

There’s no doubt that Jamil Viper has… questionable methods of obtaining his means to an end. With the precision and patience of a snake, he can use any means necessary to strike. But when you’re around he finds himself thinking more of what’s right than just what he wants. You are his conscience, in the best and worst of times; and he can’t help but love you for it.

POMEFIORE

Vil Schoenheit’s entire life has been publicized since the day he stepped into the spotlight. While he takes pride in his looks and envies anyone who can shine brighter than him, he finds that when he is with you, he can be whatever he wants to be with no eyes on him. No cameras, no rehearsals, no pressure, just two hearts beating side by side.

Rook Hunt has a lot to say, and so little time to say it. He is always on the move, always examining something else to find the beauty in it. And though it’s hard to be patient, he loves you for always listening when he talks, even when he rambles for hours about the smallest things. To sit still for that long is a feat in itself.

The frustrations of Epel Felmier are evident when others treat him as lesser simply because of the way he looks. He’s still learning how to use his charm in other ways, but it’s hard to unlearn so many old habits. Punishments from Vil don’t help either. So when the work gets too harsh, you make him forget about being weak or strong- and when you’re in front of him, all he wants to be is yours.

IGNIHYDE

Idia Shroud is used to watching the world go by without him. Sometimes he feels like an outside observer, or even a roadblock for others to climb over on their way to greatness. But with you, he never feels like an inconvenience. He feels wanted and needed- something he hasn’t felt for a long, long time.

DIASOMNIA

Malleus Draconia is lonely. It’s plain and simple as that. He wants the company of others, outside of those assigned to guard him and bow to his every whim. So Malleus covets the fact that you are simply here, by his side of your own volition. For the first time in his life, Malleus thinks that he might be content.

Lilia Vanrouge has lived through centuries. As a human, you cannot even begin to fathom bridging the gap in time. There is just so much that he has seen that he can’t share with you. So please, just let him hold you while he has the chance. Let him cherish the way you live in the moment. Together, you can forget the coming of the future.

Sebek Zigvolt is constantly under pressure. Not from others, but from himself- but either way, the stress gets to him. He would never admit it, but the stolen moments you spend together make him happier than he’s ever been. His shoulders ease, and his scowl disappears for a time. Just don’t point it out, or they’ll be back again full force- accompanied by a blush.

It’s not that Silver doesn’t care about what people are saying- he really, really does. But when he falls asleep so easily, some people come to think that he’s bored out of his mind. He was anxious that you’d think the same, but to his surprise, you understand his struggles. He’s trying his best to be more attentive to you, and you welcome his efforts with open arms.

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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lovebugism · 6 months

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How about "89. I’m drunk and fall asleep in a snow bank and you’re the kind stranger yanking me to my feet and lecturing me on how dangerous that is" with Steve?

ty for requesting!! — steve harrington rescues you, his worst enemy, after finding you all alone on a snowy bench on main street (enemies to lovers, hurt/comfort, tw for toxic relationships, 2.4k)

blurbcember ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

On his way home from the Wheeler holiday party, Steve thinks he sees a dead body in the snow.

He slows at a stoplight and knows he sees a dead body in the snow.

With nothing but sheer stupidity and a savior complex, the boy rushes out of his warm car and into the vacant road on Main Street. The piling snow crunches under his sneakers and dampens them instantly. Crystalline flakes fall from the pitch-black sky at a merciless rate, sticking to his lashes and his fuzzy Christmas sweater.

The snow glistens as it clings to the limp body lying on the bench. A girl, Steve realizes as he gets closer — a pretty girl in a pretty dress who’s not at all clothed for this kind of weather.

He steps closer, blinks snowflakes from his eyes, and realizes that it’s you. The reigning princess of Hawkins. The homecoming queen. His absolute worst enemy.

Steve loses his sympathy in an instant. Now that he knows you’re not dead, anyway.

But he nudges at you gently — just to make sure — and you grumble something unintelligible into your folded-up arms.

“What are you doing?” he wonders aloud.

“What’s it look like?” you slur, rubbing your cheek against your sleeve like a cat.

“It’s freezing out. You know that, right?”

“Really?” you muse sleepily, eyes still shut. “I haven’t noticed.”

Steve scoffs a bitter laugh and rolls his honey eyes. He puts his hands on his waist, cocks his hips to the side, and leers down at you even though you can’t see him. He wonders if you even recognize his voice — if that’s the reason you’re being so short with him or if you’re just too drunk to care.

“It’s good to know you’re still a priss after all this time. It’s really refreshing, actually.”

He expects you to argue with him. That’s what you used to do, anyway. Your relationship (or lack thereof) is built on this kind of petty, meaningless banter. So he feels a little empty when you don’t bite back. Maybe even a little bad.

You fall back to sleep, a soft snore sounding from your throat. You shift in your slumber and it sends you rolling off the bench. Steve catches you before you can. He puts you back into place with two warm hands around your arms.

“Alright. Get up,” he says with an annoyed huff.

“No, thank you,” you sigh, still sleepy.

“No. Seriously. Get up before you get frostbite.”

His voice is coated with an obvious concern. You don’t miss it — not even in your exhausted, drunken, and heartbroken state. Maybe that’s why you don’t fight him as much when he forces you to sit up, but you’re still hardly more than dead weight. He’s forced to hold you so you don’t fall over again.

Steve can see you better now that you’re fully upright. Snowflakes stick to the strands of your done-up hair, made-up lashes, and the knit material of your dress. Your eyeliner is smudged beneath your eyes, and your lipstick has been mostly kissed off. There’s a hole in the knee of your tights, too, and scuff marks on the toe of your boots.

You’re pretty. You’ve always been pretty, but just a little extra now. Way too beautiful to be all alone on this bench in the middle of Main Street.

“What are you doing here?” Steve blurts as he crouches in front of you. Snow wets the knee of his jeans, but he’s too distracted by you to care. “Where’s your boyfriend? Why isn’t he with you?”

He can’t even say the name — of your douchebag boyfriend, that is. Just thinking of the words Billy and Hargrove makes him feel like vomiting. Steve didn’t think he could hate anyone more than he hated you until he met that asshole. The two of you deserve each other, really.

Your tired head lolls to your shoulder. Your eyes flutter shut as you shrug.

“You weren’t with him?” the boy presses.

“I was,” you slur dramatically. “But he left.”

“He left you?”

You nod, slow and lazy.

“He left you here?”

You nod again.

Steve’s chest stings. His heart aches for you, even though he knows it shouldn’t.

“Why?” he agonizes.

“I got too drunk at a party… And I talked to a guy he didn’t like very much.”

“Then what?”

You start to go limp in his hold. Exhaustion weighs you down again, accelerated by the winter’s bitter cold. Steve squeezes your arms to keep you upright. Your eyes open again but the lids of them are visibly heavy.

“Um… We fought in the car. And he told me to get out,” you explain in mumbled slurs. Your voice is calm and airy, as light as the falling snow. You’re too drunk to understand how heartbreaking this is. “And I tried to get back home, but then I forgot how to walk.”

Steve’s eyes start to burn. He feels like he could cry. Because sure, you’ve been his enemy since the third grade, but you’re soft and you’re gentle and utterly undeserving of Billy’s assholery.

Because of this (and his lingering savior complex), he feels the overwhelming urge to take care of you.

“Here. C’mon,” he huffs as he rises to full height again, jaw tense to keep his teeth from chattering. He tugs at your arms to pull you up with him. You comply (as best you can on frozen, drunken limbs) but not without confusion. Your face twists with it.

“What?” you murmur.

“Get in the car, okay? C’mon.”

You plant your feet. It becomes virtually impossible to move you. You and Steve idle at a standstill with your shoes digging into the piling snow. Your toes feel close to frozen, but your hands are strangely warm with Steve holding them so tight.

“No,” you insist, dramatically stubborn in your less-than-sober state.

“No?”

“Billy will get mad.”

Steve scoffs. “Screw Billy.”

“I do that already.” Your reply comes so swiftly, and without a single hint of a smirk, that it’s impossible to tell if you’re joking or not. Maybe you aren’t and you’re just too drunk to understand sarcasm. Maybe you are joking and the receptors in your brain aren’t firing properly enough to tell you to smile at yourself.

Either way, Steve’s face scrunches with disgust. “Gross,” he mumbles under his breath.

—————

Steve has to drag you to his car.

He puts his palm over the crown of your head to keep you from bumping it when you duck inside. He guides your legs in, too, when you have trouble maneuvering them. Then he reaches over to buckle you in before you have to ask him for help — because god knows there’s no way you could do it on your own.

He smells like cedar and something sweet when he leans over you. His whole car smells like that, actually. It’s nice. Comforting. Almost achingly warm.

You curl into the heated seat and provide exactly zero help when he drives you home.

“You still alive?” he asks after a couple minutes of driving.

You grunt, slumped over in your seat with your forehead pressed against the window.

“What’s your address?”

“Hm?”

“Where do you live?” he presses.

“Why do you wanna know, perv?” you slur, obviously not all there as you shift to get more comfortable in the passenger seat of his car.

Steve scoffs. “Oh, right. I’m the perv ‘cause I didn’t leave you out in the freezing cold. Makes so much sense. Maybe next time, don’t call me when your asshole boyfriend abandons you, alright?”

He’s bitter. Intentionally hurtful.

You’re too drunk to understand. “I didn’t call you in the first place,” you retort sleepily.

He falters. “Well— you know what I mean.”

“I can’t go home,” you answer finally.

His structured features twist with concern, but your eyes are closed so you don’t see it. His honeyed gaze squints with worry, flitting from your limp form to the darkened road and back again. “Why?”

“‘Cause I live with Billy. And he doesn’t want me there,” you tell him with a lazy shrug. Then, more quietly, you mumble. “Nobody wants me anywhere…”

You say it so softly that he barely hears it. He wishes he hadn’t. It’d make it a whole lot easier to hate you if you were still the same priss he grew up with. He isn’t so sure that you are — or if you ever were. All you are to him now is a heartbroken girl he found in the snow, in desperate need of some kindness.

So when you drift off again, he lets you. And he doesn’t wake you until you get to his house.

You feel the warmth of his presence first — the weight of his chest at your side and his hand on your waist. Your heavy eyes flutter open to find him leaning over you. He fusses with the seatbelt buckle for a moment before it clicks.

“What are you doing?” you wonder aloud, voice weighed down by exhaustion. There’s a million questions swirling in your head right now — where am I, why are you here, why are you taking care of me. That was just the first to slip out.

“Good. Now I don’t have to carry you,” Steve jokes.

He holds your hand to help you out of the car, then wraps an arm around your waist to keep you from falling. He guides you towards a too big house, lit up white with expensive Christmas decorations.

“Where are we?”

“My place. You can sleep off the alcohol on my couch.”

Your head lolls to your shoulder, eyes red-rimmed and glassy as you blink up at him. “And they say chivalry is dead,” you tease, still slightly misarticulate — though not nearly as much as when he found you in the show.

Steve’s rolling his eyes at you one moment, silently scolding himself for getting out of his car in the first place — and the next, he’s standing in his kitchen, filling up a glass of water and putting slices of bread on a plate for you. He even cuts off the goddamned crust. Just in case.

He left you on the couch in the living room, but you’re gone when he gets back. It’s like he blinks, and he’s annoyed with you all over again. A huff tumbles from his mouth as he trudges up the stairs to find you.

The door to his room is cracked open.

He finds you curled up in the center of his bed.

“No. Nope,” Steve scolds as he walks further inside. He sits the bread and the water on his nightstand and tries to shake you awake. You’re totally knocked out, hardly anything more than deadweight from the alcohol.

And he can’t even be mad at you about it because it’s not even your fault. You shouldn’t have gotten left in the first place.

“C’mon. Get up— you’re not sleeping in my bed,” he insists. His hand curls around your arm with the intent to pull you up before he realizes how cold you are. You’re freezing, even over your dress. The notion makes Steve stop in place.

He squints to take a better look at you — to really look at you — and swears the color of your skin is tinted blue from the cold. Your mascara is smeared — from where you’d been crying, maybe. He thinks those might be dried tear stains on your cheeks, too.

All at once, he doesn’t have the heart to wake you. He curses himself for being so hard on you. You never deserved it — not tonight, not ever — and he figures this is his time to atone.

He maneuvers you beneath his navy blue sheets with a warm and gentle hand. He brings the top of the comforter up to your jaw and you curl into his bed on instinct, sighing as you settle further into the warmth.

Your eyes are still closed and you’re still barely conscious, but the pillow is soft against your cheek. It smells like floral detergent and musky cologne and sweet-smelling hairspray. It brings you a foreign comfort that lulls you into a deeper, much-needed sleep.

Steve settles beside you, over the covers and with his clothes still on. He wants to be awake in case you need him. He doesn’t want you to get sick and not be alert enough to help you.

He’s laughing at the sound of your gentle snores one moment, then falling asleep to them the next.

Hawkins’ royalty. Arch enemies since elementary school. Sleeping together in one bed like you haven’t spent the majority of your lives hatingeach other.

You sleep soundly together in spite of all that. You don’t wake for several hours — not until you’ve slept the alcohol off and your suddenly sober brain reminds you of the night before. Touchy guy on the dance floor, Billy’s rough hand around your wrist, “God, you’re such a slut!”

The last thing you remember is passing out on a bench on Main Street, so you’re not entirely sure how you ended up in a bed.

You wake with a start, distinctly and palpably terrified.

You’re rousing wakes Steve up, too.

“Billy?” you murmur, heavy with sleep, as you squint in the navy blue darkness.

A part of you hopes it was all just a too vivid nightmare. Or, at the very least, that your boyfriend came to his senses and picked you up after completely abandoning you — but somehow that feels more unrealistic than all the shit he put you through the evening before.

“No—” Steve answers groggily, then clears throat when the word gets stuck there. He rises to his elbows and looks over his shoulder at you, squinting a tired eye to see you better. “No, it’s— it’s Steve.”

He can’t see you too well, not in the pitch black of his bedroom, but he swears he hears you sigh. One of relief, maybe, or maybe one of ease. Either way, you don’t seem very upset that he’s here with you.

“Oh,” you answer, still a bit breathless. “Okay…” You lie back down again, feeling eons safer than just seconds before, as you curl back into your shape on his mattress. You sigh into your pillow and try not to gravitate towards the warmth beside you.

Steve’s hands fidget with a similar fight to keep from holding you. “It’s okay,” he settles on instead, hoping his words can embrace you in a way he doesn’t let himself. “You’re okay.”

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #stranger things x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #st drabbles #stevie drabble #event: blurbcember

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t-tomuras · 8 months

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cw; Girldad Suguru Geto, family domesticity / children, fluff. Canon is what I make of it honestly. wc 857

He wakes to the first sounds of fussing, quieting your half asleep whine and gently tugging you back into the comfort of the warm covers with a gentle, “I’ve got it.” Soft smile on Sugurus lips from how easily you acquiesce, brushing away the hair that had fallen into your face to give you a chaste kiss despite how sure he was you’d already been pulled back into the undertow of slumber.

He couldn’t blame you, siring a new life was more than exhausting enough and being a jujutsu sorcerer hardly offered paternity leave so you’d been doing so much on your own. More than he wanted to but you’ve never complained even with how heavy the handful you’d taken on with caring for his two adoptive children on top of your own. All loved equally as if there were no difference in their relation, in both of your eyes there wasn't.

Padding quietly from your shared room as he fully pulls up loose joggers in his haste. Taking the time to peek in on mimiko and nanako in their shared room for now, making sure they were sleeping soundly before heading across the hall to their newest sibling. Sliding the shoji door open, met with soft whining and the beginnings of watery cries than what he’d heard over the monitor.

“Shh shh, daddy’s here,” cooed softly as Suguru reaches the crib in 5 easy strides with long legs, careful hands cradling the tight swaddle at the base of his infants neck and bottom. Lifting her with ease and cradling her close to his chest, gently bouncing as he shushes her until the pathetic cries bleed into content gurgles.

Opting to settle her body in the crook of his arm as he slides the window to her nursery open. Refreshing breeze rushing into the room, gentle gusts capturing sheer curtains and causing them to billow out fluidly before returning to rest.

There’s a look of awe on Sugurus face as he bounces the precious bundle in his arm with soft shushing even after she’s calmed in his hold. Swaying as he makes his way to the cushioned rocking chair you’d insisted upon and he so happily obliged, poking at the pudgy cheek of his newborn as she rustles near fitfully to free herself from the binding. Stretching while she fights going back to sleep in her fathers arms, making him chuckle at just how much like you she was.

How you both act as if you just need another moment with Suguru, to enjoy his company, to steal the time he so willingly offers without complaint. She loses the battle, yawning followed by wet lips making soft smacking from the little spit bubble she blew from nonsensical babbling but her tiny fingers wrap around his thumb when Suguru dries her face.

Firm grip clamping tightly around more than just the single digit, holding fast to his heart with how quickly she drifts back into slumber in his care. Writhing in her swaddle as if to tuck closer into the warmth her father’s chest radiates, cementing him to his spot because how could he move? Disturb his precious little girl that he made with you?

Giving him reason to smile in the dreary and tragic life he’s led thus far, that even if the curses he absorbs taste horrid on his tongue the home cooked meal he’s met with upon his return rids it from his memory. That the sweet treats he sneaks the two children asleep across the hall before they finish their homework is enough to bear the process of his technique one more time and another after that.

That pressing his lips to their crown, his infants forehead, and your plush lips is one of life’s greatest pleasures. That your smiles are the ones that keep him going.

The ones that allow him to do the same. Softer and more genuine in quieter, selfishly stolen moments with his child like the one he etches into his memory now. Rocking slowly as he hums a tune he’s heard you sing with the girls more times than Suguru could count as he lets heavy lids slip shut to enjoy the curated peace. The soothing sound he creates comes slower until Suguru is sure she’s fallen into a rem cycle, continuing to rock and wonder what a little mind like hers could conjure during the dreaming hours.

And, come daylight, you wake alone in your too big bed after feeling along his empty and cold side of the mattress. Stretching out with that whine that you do before tugging on his discarded shirt and forgotten sleep shorts, following the same path he’d taken in the wee hours of the morning; peeking in on the girls who play quietly in their room before you check on your newborn.

Stumbling upon the heartwarming scene of him fast asleep, snoring softly with his head hung in a way you know he’ll be sore for later as Suguru hunches over his child. Dutiful and committed even while unconcious. These were the stolen moments of your own that you cherished.

Quiet, content, peaceful.

#vixen drabbles #suguru geto fluff #suguru x reader #suguru x you #geto x reader #geto x you

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the-offside-rule · 10 days

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Pedri Gonzalez (FCBarcelona) - Quiet

Requested: no, but I watched Bridgerton and I fucking love Francesca and John so here you go

Warnings: none

The grand hall buzzed with excitement and chatter as Y/n navigated through the crowd. Working as an assistant at a prestigious company had its perks, but being at this lavish party filled with colleagues and business elites made her feel like a fish out of water. The sparkling lights, the clinking glasses, and the constant murmur of conversations started to weigh on her. Y/n felt eyes following her, admiring her evening gown and confident demeanor, but inside she was anything but confident. Her introverted nature made such social gatherings feel like an ordeal rather than a pleasure. She smiled politely, exchanged pleasantries, and tried her best to fit in, but it was exhausting.

Finally, she decided she needed a break. Slipping out through a side door, she found herself in a quiet garden terrace, a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere inside. The cool night air was refreshing, and the view of the Barcelona skyline was breathtaking. Y/n took a deep breath, feeling some of her tension melt away. As she stood there, lost in the beauty of the city lights, she heard footsteps approaching. Turning around, she gave a polite smile, but found herself having to look again as she saw who stood beside her. "Buenas tardes." He said as Y/n looked absolutely dumbfounded. His presence was calm, yet commanding, and she could hardly believe her eyes.

"Mind if I join you?" He asked with a warm smile. "Not at all." She replied, returning his smile, feeling a little more at ease. They stood in companionable silence for a while, simply enjoying the view and the quiet. It was a rare moment of peace in their otherwise hectic lives. Pedri glanced at Y/n, noticing the way the city lights reflected in her eyes, and felt a strange, inexplicable connection.

"You seemed a bit overwhelmed back there." He said gently, breaking the silence. "You noticed?" Pedri chuckled, looking down to the ground. "I think I am the only one who noticed." Y/n breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank god. These events aren't really my thing." She admitted. "I prefer the quiet." Pedri nodded along. "I can understand that. Sometimes, I just need a break from all the noise and attention too."

"It must be intense." She said, looking at him. "Always being in the public eye." Pedri shrugged. "It has its moments. But it's worth it when you love what you do. What about you? Do you like your job?" He asked. "I do." She replied. "But it's demanding." Pedri glanced over to her as she leaned on the ledge of the balcony. "Do you come to events like this often?" He asked. "So many. I'm the CEO's assistant." Y/n replied. "You?"

"Not as often as you'd think." Pedri replied. "I try to keep a balance. But when I do, I look for moments like this. It's nice to meet someone who appreciates the quiet." Y/b smiled at his answer. Who new a man with such status could be so similar to her? "It's nice to meet someone who understands."

They continued to chat casually, sharing stories and laughing between themselves. Pedri was charming and easy to talk to, and Y/n found herself relaxing more than she had all evening. "He really did that?" Y/n laughed. "Whag do you expect? That's Gavira for you." Pedri replied. "I-"

"Y/n! Mr Hernandez is looking for you!" Y/n gasped as she stood up promptly, smoothing out her dress with her hands. "I lost track of time. I'll be lucky if I still have a job tomorrow." Y/n mumbled, half joking. She looked up to see Pedri gazing back at her softly. "I guess this is goodbye for now." She said. "I guess so." He replied, a hint of disappointment in his voice. "It was nice talking to you, Y/n."

"Likewise, Pedri." She said, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes that made her heart skip a beat. As she walked back inside, she felt Pedri’s eyes on her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if their paths would cross again. Pedri watched her disappear into the crowd, feeling an unexpected longing. The connection they had felt in those brief moments lingered, leaving him with a sense of anticipation.

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lacontroller1991 · 1 year

Text

Boxes of Dye and Boxes of Tea (Obi-Wan Kenobi x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Star Wars Master List

Warnings: Obi-Wan being jealous, Obi-Wan being insecure (but not for long), one sexual comment (18+ please), slight age gap (reader is of legal age)

Word Count: 1.2k

Author's Note: I switch between POVs a lot in this, each POV switch is noted by a series of dashes. Anywho, enjoy!

==========

One of the defining rules of the Jedi Code is to be humble. Humble about your life, your wardrobe, your attitude and your appearance. It is also one of the defining rules of the Jedi Code to not form romantic attachments to anyone, let alone someone in the order and Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi? He broke both. It’s not like he could control who he loves, after all, underneath the worn armor, robes, and tunics, he is human. And with being human comes human emotions like lust, love, jealousy, insecurities.

Despite being trained in the ways of suppressing his emotions so as to not let them cloud his judgment, nothing could have trained him for the day that he sees you; his secret, younger, lover with a male about half his age. Normally, it doesn’t bother Obi-Wan who you talk to because he’s not normally a jealous guy, but after one snide comment from Anakin about the gray in his hair, it has Obi-Wan questioning everything, and seeing you talking with someone half his age? Well, Obi-Wan can’t help but to feel jealous and insecure.

Turning on his heel rapidly, Obi-Wan narrowly dodges your line of sight and rushes down the numerous halls towards his chambers as doubt clouds his mind. Would you leave him for that guy? Is he too old for you? Do you need someone more youthful to keep up with you? The questions storm in his mind as he looks over his appearance. He’s still in great shape, but he does note that he looks more exhausted than normal and his hair is starting to show his years of… wisdom. Sighing in annoyance, Obi-Wan frowns at his appearance. Just how can you find him attractive? Picking up a book, he tries to focus on the words but to no avail.

With a pep in your step, you all but skip towards Obi-Wan’s quarters, a present in your hand. After meeting up with your friend who grows tea leaves, you finally collected a large enough tea collection that will hopefully last Obi-Wan’s next upcoming mission.

Knocking on the door, you quickly hide the present under your robe and put a smile on your face as the door slides open, revealing a somber Obi-Wan with wet hair, causing your smile to turn into a frown of concern. “Obi? What’s wrong?”

—---------

Hearing the knock of his door, Obi-Wan cringes slightly knowing that it’s you on the other side. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, it’s more of the fact that he doesn’t want to be seen by you, but still, he heads toward the door and opens it, revealing you standing there with a smile on your face that quickly turns into a frown. “Obi? What’s wrong?” Sighing, he backs away from the door as you hesitantly walk into his room, closing the door behind you, not really sure how to handle the man in front of you. “Did the Council say something? Are you going on a mission sooner than we thought?”

“No, little one. It’s nothing. I’ve just been a bit lost in my head today, that’s all.” Seeming to not buy his excuse, he watches as you sit yourself down on his bed, arms still clasped together in your robe.

“You can’t fool me, Obi. What’s really going on?” Normally, your forthrightness is admirable, but now, he’s seriously disliking it.

—-------

“I’ve just been feeling a little…. insecure, I guess.” You quirk up an eyebrow as you look around his room, trying to find something, anything that will give you a clue and then you spot it just lightly poking out of the trashcan in his refresher. It’s hardly noticeable, but you’re a female, you know what a box of hair dye looks like. Looking back over your lover, you notice that only two spots are freshly dyed, given with how unblended they are. The spots right above his ears. The spots where gray streaks begin. It suddenly clicks in your mind.

Without revealing the present, you remove your cloak from your body and move to stand in front of him. “Why are you dying your hair?”

—-------

Obi-Wan lets out a chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, but you remain still, trying to comprehend. Letting out a sigh, Obi-Wan’s hands reach up for your hips and drag you into him while your hands move to his scalp, lightly running careful fingertips through his damp locks as he loses himself in the feeling. “Anakin pointed out that my hair is getting more gray and that I’m looking older and I guess I just wanted to remain youthful for you.” He’s embarrassed to admit it in fear that you’ll laugh at him, but instead, he feels a feather soft kiss against the crown of his damp head.

“Oh Obi-Wan, my handsome, handsome man, please don’t change your looks for me. I don’t care what you look like. I love you for you. I love your humor, your wisdom, your sarcasm, your penchant for tea, the way you call me ‘darling’ or ‘my love’, and the way you hold me in your arms at night. I love you as a lover and I admire you as a Jedi. Besides, obviously you’re going to age slightly. You’re fighting in a war and not to mention, I’m sure training Anakin definitely wasn’t stress free, so I really wouldn’t worry about a couple of pieces of hair.” Obi-Wan smiles softly at your words as you continue to roam your hands throughout his hair, lighting scratching his scalp.

“You’re right darling. I guess it came over me because I saw you with that one guy in the hall, who happens to be your age.”

“Who, Sid? He was only giving me something that I asked for,” Obi-Wan watches as you move your robe to the side and reveal a wrapped box. Turning around, you hand the box to Obi-Wan as you take a seat next to him. “Go ahead and open it.”

“Darling, you shouldn’t have.” Obi-Wan has told you numerous times to not get him any sort of gifts, but you, ever being thoughtful, never listens. Tearing the paper off, he looks down at the box before removing the lid and spotting a variety of tea bags, and a lot of them. “Tea?”

“Yeah, I spent some time collecting a variety and Sid had the last ones I was looking for. I figured that I could make you something before your next mission and hopefully it’ll last.”

“This is so kind of you.” He sets the box to the side and brings you in for a hug, feeling foolish about overreacting to something that he didn’t know.

“Anything for you, my love. And you wanna know something?” He pulls away and makes eye contact with you, a mischievous grin gracing your lips.

“Why do I get the feeling that you’re going to say something inappropriate?”

“Because you know me so well,” you lean forward, your hands sliding up his thighs ever so slightly. “I really, really love your hair the way it is. I especially love tugging onto it while we make sweet sweet love.” And if Obi-Wan wasn’t flustered before, he definitely is now.

=fin=

General Tag List: @marvelousmermaid @himbovillain-anon @babblydrabbly @a-reader-and-a-writer @fairchildflag @tavners

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi x reader #obi-wan x reader #obi wan kenobi #obi wan #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan x y/n #star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars prequels #Obi-Wan likes drinking tea #reader insert #female reader #disney plus #ewan mcgregor #obi wan kenobi series

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davi-doo · 3 months

Text

Nocturnal Kinds - An Interactive BG3 Fic

Pairing: Halsin x Reader (gender neutral)

Rating: Teen and Up Audience

Status: Ongoing/Work in progress

Introduction: What if you can start Halsin’s romance from Act 1 with the choice to join his company after the tiefling party? This is a choose-your-adventure fanfic that should allow you to interact with our favorite bear-man as your Tav/Durge or other origin characters.

Author's Note:

I wrote this fic as a birthday gift for my friend, @mcfallen-god. Despite conceivable limitations (especially when it’s still a WIP), I’ve been trying to include as many unique options as possible. Some of the choices may require you to roll a dice and pass certain check, you can follow through with it to increase immersion, if you want. Feel free to "replay" this fic multiple times and explore all the routes 😉 Enjoy~

Since the tiefling left for their tent one after another, all happily intoxicated with their questionable liquor cauldron, your camp has sunken back to the serenity of the night at last. You noticed some of your companions have quietly seeked their bedroll, exhausted by all the fighting at the goblin camp or by their upset stomach full of booze. Meanwhile, some others must have sneaked out early with a chosen partner, celebrating the festive mood in private.

As for you - you’re just glad that you can finally drop your shoulder and stretch your neck. Who could have guessed making the rounds and receiving praises could wear your down much quicker than craving a blood path out of the goblin hordes? Feeling a headache approaching on the horizon, you know you need a good rest. But not until you have some cool water splashed on your face for refreshment, now that you have time to catch a breath.

Walking towards the nearby lake, you didn’t expect to find him there. The druid Halsin, his larger frame hardly mistakable even at a distance, is curiously relishing his night in solitude. With the safety of the grove ensured, you had expected to see more of him at the party, taken his exhilarated acclamation at the moment of triumph. But instead, you have suspected a rather introverted nature tugged beneath the grove leader’s tangible charm and compelling conviction.

Now sitting with his back against a tree, the man seems to gaze absent-mindedly to the water surface. In the next breath, you see Halsin bringing to his mouth a delicate-looking pipe you didn’t notice before. The tail of its lights up merrily with tiny warm sparkles, and soon enough, small clouds of blue smoke escape his open lips. Dancing to the faint breezes from the moon, it sets a mysterious veil to the tranquil scenery. But you can only be his quiet observer for so long. As if awaken from a spell, the wood elf turns his head and smiles warmly in acknowledgement of your presence.

CHOICES: Pick one of these options.

1. “So you can’t hold your liquor, but have that guilty pleasure of your own. I knew I smelled something nice.” you teased cheekily, gesturing the pipe.

2. “Pardon, I thought you left with the others. I didn’t disturb your reverie, did I?” you smiled back awkwardly, ready to leave the man to his peace.

3. “Halsin.” you greeted him with a simple nod, before walking up to the lake. You will have your refreshment first.

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #halsin #halsin silverbough #bg3 halsin #halsin x reader #my writing #nocturnal kinds #interactive fiction #choose your adventure #WIP

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ravenelyx · 6 months

Text

I Love You In Every Timeline - Sebastian Sallow

One Hundred Years of Solitude

[Fic masterlist]

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, Harry Potter characters appearance, no name appearance for the reader

Themes: angst, temporarily unrequited love, pining, some form of transference¹, developing relationship, slow burn, explicit (eventually)

Summary: "He turned around, and the world seemed to stop around him. She had followed him: into another timeline, into another universe." In which Sebastian, in his search for a cure in the Dark Arts, finds himself 100 years into the future and meets his most trusted companion's descendant (who looks far too similar to the girl he was once secretly in love with).

A/N: chapter rewritten :)

AO3 • Wattpad

The Great Hall was almost empty when he entered it, as most of the students had already gone to class. Since he had a free period before Charms, Sebastian decided to allow himself more sleep than usual.

Not that it had been any useful.

He felt exhausted, dragging himself to the nearest seat at his House table and resting his head on the cold wood. There was hardly anything left, and he was more than happy to just munch on a cold pancake and drink a glass of pumpkin juice, enough to sustain him for at least a few hours, although barely.

Perhaps it was the sight of the Hall, empty and familiar, perhaps it was the enchanted ceiling shining sunny rays on the Slytherin table, perhaps it was the unsatisfactory breakfast after an unsatisfactory dinner, but for a split second, Sebastian was at home.

It was a sour feeling, like his pumpkin juice had spoiled and his pancake had grown mould in his hands, yet he couldn't stop feasting on it, searching for a piece he could savour, if only once. That, he realised, was the beginning of his destruction.

Memories of the previous day's conversation came flooding back and he groaned, the weight in his chest growing heavier, and the pancake suddenly seemed even less appetising as he dropped it onto the plate.

'Everything is clearer in the morning ', Dumbledore had said.

Perhaps he should lend me his glasses , Sebastian thought.

Fortunately, the headache had subsided since the conversation, and although his sleep hadn't been as satisfying as he'd hoped, he felt a little better than he had a few hours ago. Maybe it was the pumpkin juice.

He shoved the pancake back in his mouth, almost choking on it, and rubbed his eyes before standing up. From his table, a few Slytherins turned their heads towards him, and he recognised a few of his peers among them: a brown-haired boy was waving a wand around with a devil-may-care attitude while a blonde girl tried to snatch it out of his hands. None of them seemed in a rush to leave, which almost made Sebastian think he had read his timetable wrong.

He checked again for good measure and he was glad to know he was absolutely right. He then thought he might have been mistaken about the students: they either weren't in the same year as him as he had previously thought or they were waiting for the perfect moment to be fashionably late.

Sebastian, for all his self-respect and gallantry, had little time to be fashionable.

Leaving the students be — and ignoring their eyes on him as soon as he turned towards the door — he headed off to class, ready to begin lessons in a new, unfamiliar environment.

The walk to Classroom 2E was almost refreshing, and for once, he didn’t lament the stairs. The same couldn’t be said for the screeching laugh of a certain Slytherin girl as soon as she saw him wander around.

It felt bloody ironic to think that after five years.

If anything, the hallways were deserted and the cracking fire of the torches put him at ease, and that was a pretty huge step up.

“Lost, new fifth-year?” laughed Pansy Parkinson, then she turned to her right as if expecting someone to pat her back.

If her goal was to discomfit him, she might need to review her bullying strategies.

“You’re not still crying because of what happened yesterday, are you?” retorted Sebastian, only stopping briefly to look at her before resuming his walk.

“I could give you detention,” she shrieked.

A perfect pureblood pair, he almost wanted to throw up.

“That would delight me.”

Pansy Parkinson didn’t follow him, for which he was delightfully glad. Not that it would matter that much: he’d see her in class anyway — probably fleering at him with newfound energy once she had his beau beside her.

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cottonlemonade · 4 days

Note

hello there!! I was wondering if you could do menu A with chocolate milk, purin and mochi??? I will be sitting next to Ennoshita!! Thank you!! 😊😊

Part-Timing At The Same Job

word count: 663 || avg. reading time: 2 mins.

pairing: Ennoshita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, established relationship

warnings: none

request: fluffy, part-timing at the same job with boyfriend Ennoshita

____________________________________________

“It could be worse.”

“How?”

“Uhm…”, Chikara rubbed thoughtfully at the back of his neck.

After a few moments he seemed to have found a point to make, “You’d have to do everything one by one with a really leaky watering can.”

You opened your mouth to argue but closed it begrudgingly. Wearing the scowl of a lifetime, you let your eyes wander over the many rows of long metal folding tables, the surfaces hardly visible beneath all the leaves and blossoms.

A few hours ago, when your boss came up to you, phone to her ear and a no-nonsense kind of look in her eyes and had asked you and your boyfriend to stay late and take over watering in the garden center, you were quick to agree. How long could it take to water some plants?

Yet somehow you seemed to have severely underestimated the task. Without the many customers walking along the tightly packed rows of green and blocking a lot of your view, the sheer amount of plants was overwhelming. And all you wanted to do was spend a relaxing movie night with your boyfriend.

Said boyfriend rolled up his sleeves and clapped his hands twice, making you involuntarily stand to attention.

“Alright. I’ll take these, you take the bonsai and orchids. If we hurry, we can still grab some take-out on the way to your house.”

With a salute you hurried away to prepare a couple buckets with water to sink the plants into.

It was dull work and you were very glad you didn’t have to do it in the pressing summer heat of the afternoon. But although the air wasn’t as soupy as it was earlier, you still felt beads of sweat rolling down your brow, neck and arms as you dunked, pushed down and then lifted the newly watered plants out of the buckets back onto their respective tables.

Your shoulders started to protest under the repeated unfamiliar strain but you kept focussing on the goal.

You had started the part-time job to afford a new bicycle so you wouldn’t have to keep using the rickety old thing your brother so graciously let you borrow - for a price, of course. It was rusty and hard to peddle and held together by duct tape and good thoughts if nothing else. With your own new bike you could not only get to school without having to rely on the rather unreliable bus but (mainly) you could go on romantic rides with Chikara, have a picnic maybe and cloud gaze without getting constantly interrupted by your brother making kissing noises or his mom who kept poking her head through his bedroom door and asked if you had enough snacks.

Using the last bit of shirt that wasn’t completely drenched to wipe your brow you headed for the bigger section where Chikara was struggling with the hose having caught on one the table legs.

“Almost done.”, he announced when you came closer, “Just one more flower.”

“Hm?”, you were too exhausted to catch his playful grin and it was too late when he already pointed the hose at you.

“No!”, you yelled and ran away but as if you could ever outrun a volleyball player.

His arm quickly wrapped around your chubby middle and pulled you back into him, giving him the opportunity to give your face a little spritz of water. Still giggling you turned to him and interlaced your fingers behind his neck.

“That was actually really nice.“, you admitted with a surprised frown, “This heat is ridiculous. - We should go to the lake this weekend.“

Chikara nodded happily and leaned down for a kiss.

So lost in utter contentment of his lips on yours you didn‘t notice how he raised the hose again, spraying it into the air above you two for a light refreshing shower.

He held you tightly at the waist so you couldn‘t get away and silenced any pouty protests with more kisses.

____________________________________________

a/n: thank you so much for this cute request! Thinking about him working at a garden center is so soft ☺️ please enjoy!

#sunnys school lunches #ennoshita x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #chubby reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #ennoshita x reader #haikyuu ennoshita #ennoshita fluff #ennoshita chikara #hq fluff

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sleepingsun501 · 11 months

Text

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.

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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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thewayshedreamed · 9 months

Text

Somewhere, Part 22

Cassian POV

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a/n: How has it been this long since I've updated? 😅 I've missed these two a ton lately, and I'm excited to finally share their next chapter! I'm also excited because I've been looking forward to the NEXT chapter for quite some time, and the inspiration for that one has been extra high lately 👀👀

If you want to re-read to get a refresher or need to catch up, I put the link below!

Cassian welcomes us back for this update! Hope y'all enjoy!

>> Somewhere masterlist >>fanfic masterlist

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Hanging out with Feyre was long overdue, and despite the exhaustion settling into Cassian’s bones, he was looking forward to it. She always made tea the way he liked it— something they had in common— and after such a long day, he could use a cup to help keep his eyes open until a proper bedtime.

The door was unlocked when he approached the house, and Cassian chuckled at how his brother would no doubt react to that small fact. Nevermind that Feyre did it with Cassian in mind. His overprotective little brother was likely to have a heart attack if he knew she was so flippant with her safety while he was out of town on business. The secret was safe with Cassian, if only to spare Feyre the mild lecture for the millionth time.

“Hey Fey,” he called, wiping his shoes on the small rug.

His keys made a loud clang in the metal bowl on the entryway table, and Cassian scowled at the jarring sound as if he hadn’t been ultimately responsible. His fatigue was making him grouchy.

“Cass!” Feyre came around the corner beaming and wrapped him in a tight hug. She had always been like a baby sister to him, even in the earliest days of her relationship with Rhysand. Something had made sense between them, and Cassian loved her fiercely.

Squeezing her back with equal enthusiasm, Cassian pressed a kiss to her hair and smiled. “Lonely already?” he teased. “Rhysand only left yesterday.”

Feyre scoffed and pulled away, leading him to the small table off the side of the kitchen. Tea was already steaming in a cast iron kettle in the middle and small pastries were stacked nearby. Cassian’s mouth watered at the sight.

“I’ve hardly had time to be lonely,” she mused, and affection dripped from every word. “You know he’s called with every spare moment.”

“I figured as much. This looks great, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Feyre smiled and gestured toward one of the chairs. Cassian complied— mostly because he knew better than to challenge an Archeron in their own home— and leaned forward on his elbows to bend his neck in a stretch.

A cup of tea appeared in his field of vision, and he winked at Feyre in gratitude. She was poised across from him, her attention sliding to the garden through the window, and the sun illuminating her elegant profile. They sipped in silence for a couple of moments, content in each other’s comfortable, steady company.

Cassian was the first to break the silence, a role he served more often than not. “Have you made much progress on the pieces for your next exhibit with Rhysand being out of town?”

“Some. I haven’t hit much of a stride yet, and that’s daunting considering it’s only a couple of months away.”

Feyre wrapped her hands around her mug and rounded her shoulders as if the admission had cost her something. Whatever the case, Cassian didn’t care to see her stressed.

“You’ll get it,” he assured her. “You always do.” A small smile stretched across her face, and his chest felt a little lighter than before. The joke rolled off his tongue before he could think better of it. “Worst case, I’ll model for you.”

That earned an actual laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, her eyes sparkling, “should I get desperate.”

“We’ll pray it doesn’t come to that.”

They laughed together before turning their focus back to their tea. Cassian took the opportunity to snack on a small scone, which he was pretty sure was meant for children by the looks of it. He said as much, and Feyre rolled her eyes. It was an expression so like Nesta that longing threatened to choke him.

“What about you?” Feyre asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You said you had something to run by me?”

Damn, he’d forgotten he planted that seed when they made plans earlier in the day. The promotion Helion offered was eating him alive, and he needed a sounding board. While that was still true, he hadn’t been tired down to his bones when he’d originally brought it up.

“Yeah, sort of.” He leaned back in his chair and twisted to rest his elbow over the back. “It’s more that I have some things to work through out loud, and I think you could help with pros and cons.”

Feyre’s brows came together over the rim on her mug. With a nod, she placed her tea atop the table and gave him her full, undivided attention. His chest felt tighter than he’d anticipated, but he’d learned to push through uncertainty many moons ago.

“I got offered a promotion,” he began, each word leaving him through an exhale.

“Why do you say that as if it’s tragic?”

A smirk tugged at the edge of Cassian’s mouth. “It’s not tragic, and if I’m honest, I deserve it.”

“So humble.”

He winked in acknowledgement of Feyre’s ribbing. She wasn’t nearly as cutthroat as Nesta in her banter, but she did well enough if Cassian’s soft spot for her was any indication.

“Helion gave me some time to decide, but I need to get back to him soon. There’s not a position to compare it to, and with Nesta and me trying to work things out, I worry about how much of my time it’ll take up.”

Feyre was quiet for a beat too long, enough for Cassian’s lower back to bead with sweat. Stoicism wasn’t something he typically associated with Feyre, but he didn’t regret his limited experience with it.

“Have you told Nesta about it?”

He took a breath. “Yeah. She was supportive, but things are still new. I don’t know if she would try and sway me either way.”

“True,” Feyre replied, taking another long sip of her tea. “Although, if we’re being fair, Nesta will understand putting yourself first.”

Cassian must have failed at keeping his expression placid with how Feyre’s eyes tracked every angle of his face. “Fey, don’t.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I came here because I thought I wouldn’t have to defend Nesta to you, of all people.”

Silence fell. Hurt flashed over Feyre’s face, her blue eyes round, and Cassian hated himself for hurting her. Defending Nesta wasn’t something he could apologize for, though.

“That’s not what I meant.” Her voice was brittle, soft. “Nesta is practical, and she would understand the value of advancing your career in these early stages of your relationship. She won’t expect you to uproot your routine— your life— simply because you decided to work things out together.”

His eyes eased shut, and he took a measured breath. “I’m sorry.”

Feyre nodded, and the tension seemed to evaporate with the simple gesture. “Not everyone has been receptive, and I can respect you having Nesta’s back. She has too few in her corner as it is.”

Emotion gathered in his throat, and he swallowed against it. “Yeah,” he rasped. “Can I tell you something, just between the two of us for now?”

“Sure. As long as you’re not asking me to lie to Rhys.”

“Nah, not exactly.” Feyre gave him a pointed look, and he raised his hands in placation. “I only ask that you not tell him before I get a chance, but if he suspects anything, I don’t expect you to lie.”

Feyre nodded, but her brow remained furrowed.

“The timing of all this isn’t great, and I don’t know how to talk to Nesta about it,” he admitted. His shoulders relaxed for the first time in minutes. He had greatly underestimated the relief that would come with such a simple admission. “I know where I stand, but I’m trying to let Nesta settle in to all this. With us.”

He paused to assess Feyre’s expression, but she wasn’t giving much away for free. To her credit, Cassian hadn’t exactly spelled things out. He fixed his attention to his palm, using the thumb of his other hand to trace circles around his calluses.

“We talked about what happens if we see this working out long-term. We can’t live thousands of miles apart forever.”

“Well, yeah. Makes sense.”

Cassian cleared his throat. “Nesta isn’t in a place to come back to Velaris, at least not right now. Before Helion talked to me about this job, I’d already told Nesta I would move. To give us a fair shot.”

Feyre’s eyes flared in surprise, but she blinked it away. “And you think it’s too soon.”

“Isn’t it?”

Her laugh was affectionate. “Cass, you and Nesta are already years in the making.”

“Sure, but…” he trailed off, gathering his words. “We agreed to give it time, but I don’t know what she’s comfortable with before deciding to take the next step. What if I turn down the job, and I end up here for at least another year? Or, what if I take it, and I have to quit in three months? I hate the idea of putting anyone in a bind, but Nesta would come first.”

Feyre observed him, her shoulders rounding toward him as if compelled to pull him into a hug. “Cass,” she murmured, “you have to talk to her.”

“That’s what I was afraid of,” he joked, leaning back in his chair. He felt raw after such a display of vulnerability, and he craved the levity he was known to bring to any situation. “I don’t want the pressure to freak her out.”

“It’s a risk you take. But she’s the only person who is in this with you and whose opinion really matters. If you’re both committed to this, a simple conversation shouldn’t derail everything. If it does, that’s another issue. I’m not saying it’ll be fun, but it’s necessary.”

Cassian groaned, dragging his hands over his stubbled cheeks. “I know that. You’re supposed to lie to me.”

Feyre’s head dropped back as she laughed, and it was so contagious that it managed to drag a chuckle from beneath the weight of Cassian’s ribs.

“You know, as quick as you are to defend Nesta, maybe it’s worth giving her a little more credit yourself,” Feyre said, her tone soft.

The truth of it hit him full force. He spent so much time preparing for war in Nesta’s honor that he failed to see how his own insecurities sold her short. It was hardly fair to assume the worst in her when he expected the opposite from anyone else. It hadn’t been intentional, but the way his hang-ups exerted influence over his assumptions exposed some lingering scar tissue stretched across his ego.

Cassian nodded and focused on his tea. Feyre had given him more than his fair share to think about, including his unresolved issues and how to shield Nesta from the aftermath.

“So, you’re leaving us, then?” The playfulness in her question was the life preserver he’d needed, and he shamelessly accepted the shift in tone.

“As soon as possible,” he said, deadpan. “Can’t wait, really.”

Feyre chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Liar. You’ll miss us the second you leave.”

Cassian responded with a tight, subtle shake of his head and punctuated it with a wink. His impish denial earned another laugh from Feyre, and his heart felt lighter in the way it usually did when he made his loved ones feel at ease.

A beat of silence passed, and then, “You really love her.”

“Yeah?” Cassian asked, barely suppressing a laugh. “What gave it away?”

A scone flew across the table and hit him square in the chest. He caught it just before it landed on the table and ate half in a single bite, staring at Feyre as if he hadn’t deserved her brutality.

“Don’t be cute, Cassian,” Feyre chided. “I don’t know… I stayed conflicted about you two a couple of years ago. I’ve never seen people who brought each other alive like you and Nesta did, but it always seemed to come at a price.”

Cassian nodded, overly invested in assessing the angle of his next bite. What was he supposed to say to that, anyway?

“Part of me wanted to be relieved when you split up, but you were both miserable,” she continued, another punch to the stomach. “After watching the two of you claw your ways back to yourselves over the last couple of years, it was hard to settle into the idea that things would all snap into place now.”

His fingers drummed a mindless rhythm on the table, the quiet thudding sound keeping his pulse in check. “Well, for what it’s worth, nothing has snapped into place.”

Feyre waited until his eyes met hers again to speak, her brows furrowed. “But I thought—”

“Everything is okay,” Cassian amended, maybe too quickly. It was the truth, but something about being under the microscope made him jumpy and a little defensive. “I just meant that it didn’t happen that way. Nesta and I…” he trailed off, trying to find his words in the ether and settling for the lame ones he found first. “We didn’t have a clean break a couple of years back.”

“So, you two have tried getting back together before?”

A huff of wry amusement left him before he could stop it. “I wouldn’t say that.”

At Feyre’s incredulous stare, he elaborated as much as he dared without sharing all the skeletons in his and Nesta’s closet. He hit the high points of their chronic push and pull. Their weakness and loose details of their misdeeds towards other partners in the name of whatever they hoped to resuscitate between them, no matter how little time they could have had.

“Gods,” Feyre muttered, draining the rest of her tea and setting the cup down heavily. “I had no idea.”

“No one did, except Nesta and me. Azriel suspected at times because he knew how much Nesta always got under my skin, but I was a vault on any of the details.”

“I guess it’s no one’s business, really.”

Cassian raised his brows in silent agreement and leaned back in his chair, stretched his arms one at a time across his chest to relieve some of the tension between his shoulder blades. That familiar pressure was building again, the one that seeped into Cassian’s bones and compelled him to redirect the conversation to less turbulent territory. If not for himself, to bring a smile and an ease back to his sister-in-law, who really had no reason to carry the burden of his past.

“Maybe keep your day job, Fey,” he teased, hoping his impulse didn’t interfere with his mark. “I don’t think your powers of deduction are going to pay the bills.”

She laughed, long and loud, and pride filled his chest to bursting. Feyre was still his ally, it would seem, and the future felt a fraction less daunting with her in their corner.

His tone shifted, suddenly thick with emotion that was a surprise to him as much as Feyre. “I’ve loved Nesta since the night we spent in that cabin. Years ago, now,” he rasped. Feyre’s eyes softened, and she reached across the table for his hand. He let her take it. “Nothing’s been the same since.”

The confession gutted him and eased a tension he’d been carrying for far too long in equal measure. Cassian wondered how he’d managed to keep it all contained to that point, but the realization hit him that he hadn’t. Not really.

Anyone who knew him well knew something chaotic and unyielding had always brewed beneath the surface of his self-control— that most of his conscious effort went toward burning off the constant unsteadiness in his veins. All to avoid a host of bad decisions along the path of shameless self-destruction. The way he carried the weight of his family members’ happiness on his shoulders, the energy he brought to his job and making himself indispensable. Making decisions for others, especially ones that protected them, had never been a challenge for Cassian, as he loved nothing more than to take care of anyone who needed it. The challenge had always been in making decisions that served him when it all came down to it, and he’d never been able to do that without the threat of impact to someone else. Not even that had been enough to keep him away from Nesta over the years, no matter the fallout.

Amren had been right when she’d finally laid it all out, but he would take that small fact to the damned grave. Cruel and unusual torture wouldn’t be enough to risk her smugness for the following millennium.

Feyre ended the prolonged silence, shattering the fragile bits of his impromptu soul search. It was probably for the best, he decided.

“It makes sense, you know,” she said, her voice hushed. “No one loves like you do, Cassian.” A lump formed in his throat, and he offered her a nod in thanks. He didn’t trust the emotions that would come spilling out if he deigned to open his mouth. “And I don’t think anyone feels quite like Nesta, either.”

All good things, he thought, if the individuals in question were healthy and settled. A disaster, if they weren’t. The path his thoughts had taken only moments before indicated that he was a long way from perfect, but Cassian realized with such a small revelation that he and Nesta weren’t damned to everything they’d been through before. Not when they’d both done the work on themselves, albeit incomplete. The game changer was in the choice, and the commitment to that growth and each other.

A weight heavier than he’d thought himself capable of carrying for so many years eased from his shoulders. Not everything, of course, but sometimes, all it took was a moment that offered a little bit of hope.

—

To Feyre’s credit, Nesta had been entirely receptive to Cassian’s perceived dilemma. He’d decided to rip off the proverbial bandaid that very evening, and if he was thankful for anything, it was the fact that he’d opted to untangle his thoughts with his sister-in-law before he’d made the potential mistake of word-vomiting all over Nesta.

He had carefully laid out his pros and cons of taking the promotion— making sure to include the items pertaining to life overall, as well as the implications for their future. Nesta was patient and had pointed out several additional considerations he’d yet to think of, and as it turned out, the two of them made a pretty solid team when they got out of their own way enough to work together through life’s hurdles.

For all her assistance in building both cases, Nesta’s stance on the matter had been straight forward and rather simple if Cassian allowed himself to acknowledge it.

“The thing is,” she’d said, “you need to do what makes the most sense for you right now. Not the Cassian 6 months from now, the Cassian a year from now, or Cassian from yesterday.”

It had been a particularly sobering realization, since Cassian’s usual method involved trying to control for every possible angle, but Nesta had gotten them straight to the heart of the matter. A former version of himself itched to take her position personally, to assume that her bluntness was some kind of directly proportional measure of how little she cared to have him closer. Still a work in progress, but Cassian was pleased that silencing that maladaptive voice in his head got easier every time he did it, and life was offering him plenty of practice.

His commitment to self-advocacy had paid off in his meeting with Helion, and he’d come away with several accommodations that he wasn’t sure they would have agreed to make. Now, days later, he dragged his heavy, sleep-deprived body up the stairs to his apartment— the only way he’d made peace with skipping his workout that day— after another long day at the office. Somehow, he was juggling his usual duties while trying to learn the new ones. His replacement couldn’t start soon enough.

The door shut heavily in his already-dark entryway, his keys landing on the small table near the door by sheer muscle memory. Cassian leaned against the shut door and eased his eyes closed, but his phone vibrated rudely almost immediately. With a groan, he shoved his hand into his pocket and hauled his phone into view. The shift in his mood at seeing Nesta’s name nearly gave him whiplash.

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

He flipped the light switch, muttering a soft curse at the sudden brightness. The assault on his vision was worth it to hear the low, melodic chuckle that came shortly after.

“Hey,” she said, her smile still evident. “Long day?”

Another groan. A rough, calloused hand over the stubble on his cheek. “Yep. Anymore of this, and my brain is going to melt.”

“That feels dramatic.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, tucking his phone against his shoulder and working the buttons on his shirt. “Doesn’t make it less true. Why are you awake?”

The time difference made their nighttime phone calls a luxury. Cassian worried all the time that Nesta didn’t rest enough, but the balance was a delicate one with voicing that concern.

“Missed you,” she said simply, as if it didn’t still rock Cassian to hear Nesta admit such intimacy. “I got in late tonight anyway because I had dinner with Claire. And I made the mistake of picking up my book once I got home.”

“You should set a timer.”

Nesta scoffed. “That’s not how it works.”

He understood the way Nesta lost herself in whatever she read, had witnessed it countless times. Hours passed sometimes before Nesta’s head would lift, her eyes bleary, and she would start the task of re-orienting to the present.

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, smiling at how he knew she would bristle. “How was dinner?”

She took a long, deep breath. “It was good. We were overdue for a catch-up.”

Cassian paused to throw his shirt into the laundry basket and traded his pants for some athletic shorts. With little grace, he threw himself onto his bed, his face buried in his pillow.

“How’s she doing?” he asked, propping on an elbow.

“Good.” Her response was almost too swift, but it felt haunted all the same. “Really good.”

“That’s good.” Cassian cringed. Usually, if the word “good” entered a conversation any number of times in rapid succession, things were quite the opposite. His response felt awkward and uninspired, but he couldn’t put a finger on why. His intuition with Nesta was solid usually, but distance complicated even the things that came most naturally. A lesson he continued to learn.

“She mentioned a promotion.” Nesta sounded detached from the information she shared, and Cassian offered her the time to work through it without comment. “She deserves it. She’s wanted it for a long time and has been passed over several times now. I’m happy for her.”

Cassian considered his words, his mouth opening and slamming shut a couple of times before he landed on, “Why don’t you sound happy?”

“I am,” she insisted, her voice adamant. “I really am… I just…” Cassian let her words linger, afraid that if he made any sudden moves that Nesta may refrain from elaborating. “Some days it feels like I’ve been stuck in place for months while the rest of the world kept moving all around me.”

A grimace pulled at the edges of his mouth. Nesta had done so much work to heal over the months, and while Cassian knew she was moving mountains in their own right, he understood where she was coming from. He and Claire— two people close to Nesta whose lives hadn’t been immeasurably disrupted by recent events — were moving forward in their goals, and Nesta still consistently mentioned how she felt like she would be trying to catch up from her time off in perpetuity.

“I’m sorry, Nes,” he murmured, his voice rough.

“Nothing to be sorry for.” A forced casualness floated along her words, and he hated them for the mask they were. A deep breath in, a deep breath out, and then, “Nothing is set in stone as of now, but it would mean a relocation for Claire. And honestly, I’m not ready to face that yet… the possibility of being here alone all over again.”

Cassian nearly choked on a curse. The thought of Nesta feeling like it was her alone against the world made his chest ache with the need to pull her against him. To press a kiss to her temple and remind her who she was— that, despite being perfectly capable on her own to handle anything life threw her way, she was never fighting alone as long as Cassian was alive.

“I wish there was something I could do.”

Nesta allowed herself a soft laugh, and Cassian’s breath came a little easier, albeit not much. “I know you would if you could.”

“In a heartbeat,” he assured her. “Look, I know the timing isn’t great, but I don’t know— maybe we can talk about our timeline again. Maybe move it up.”

“Cass, absolutely not.” Her tone left no room for discussion, and Cassian felt his eyebrow quirk up as if he’d been challenged. Before he could argue in spite of her silent warning, Nesta’s voice softened. “Not that I don’t want you here. I appreciate that you would, but I won’t be that person that you feel the need to swoop in and save. I’ll be okay.”

His eyes eased shut. How was he supposed to argue with that?

“I know you will.”

An almost-comfortable silence fell over them for a few minutes until Cassian realized that part of their conversation was effectively over. Searching for lighter territory, he cleared his throat.

“Three more sleeps until I see you.”

Her laugh was the reward he’d wanted. Anything to know he’d put a smile on her face. “Most people countdown in days.”

“Mm,” he replied, seemingly unimpressed, but his smile came through anyway. “I’m not most people.”

“Isn’t that the truth?”

“I’m not sure if I should take offense to that.”

Nesta was quiet, and Cassian pictured the way her teeth sank into her lower lip when she fought a smile. Then, because he felt indulgent, he thought of the way he would trace her mouth with his thumb, how her eyes went round when he tipped her chin up.

“No,” she almost whispered. “It’s a good thing.”

Rolling over to his back, he ran a hand through his wild hair and groaned at his mental to-do list.

“Shit. I still need to pack.”

“I have some of your stuff here,” she reminded him. “A toothbrush, shampoo, body wash. All you need is clothes and shoes.”

“That helps. Still have to do my laundry first.”

Nesta hummed her understanding. “Well, if our schedules line up, I’ll keep you busy while you wait for the machine to finish.”

The lazy drawl of his words was courtesy of the many images her promise inspired. “I like the way your brain works, Sweetheart.”

——————————————————————————

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obislittleone · 2 years

Text

House Of Memories (45/?)

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Padawan!reader

Warnings: fluff n stuff

Summary: One lazy morning meets an unexpected visit from the beloved senator Amidala, who has a luxurious offer for You, General Kenobi, and the entire 212th battalion.

A/n: anyways, this is short and sweet. good night

also y'all if you like the story, maybe consider buying me a coffee :)

Words: 2.1k

You were tired, you were run down, and you were very much overworked. Obi-Wan, as seasoned in war as he was, felt the same way, his body wasn't as quick and spry as it had been when he was young, and having so much take place in a short span took a heavy toll on him physically. There were no days off for the Jedi, but he was going to take one, nonetheless. He was exhausted, and slept till noon, and though you would have loved to join him in this restful endeavor, you felt you needed to get up and be practical. You were quite tired as well, but sleeping all day wasn't going to make it any better for you. Oversleeping had become a habit in one point of your life, and when it did, you were in a perpetual state of grogginess throughout the time when you were awake and active.

It was about an hour after you left the bed, when you heard Obi-Wan shuffling through the apartment, bare feet padding across the floor and into the kitchenette. You stood at the counter, watching a kettle come to a boil so you could prepare him and yourself a cup of tea. Perhaps it could help you both to wake up more. It certainly would help to kickstart the day, though you were unsure of what was on the agenda. After returning home, everything seemed to have gotten back to normal, or at least a similar variation of it. You hoped that the most you'd do today was train, and there wouldn't be any surprise missions to uphold.

"Good morning, my love," he came up behind you, just like every morning, and perched his chin on your shoulder, dipping his head to kiss the skin once while your face turned a bright pink.

"Morning?" you asked quizzically, turning your head to look at him from an angle. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Hush," he said in a whisper tone, and you couldn't help but giggle at the tickling sensation it left against your neck.

You shook your head, and returned your gaze to the kettle, which didn't even seem to be warm, yet. He wrapped both arms around your waist, momentarily forgetting you were still healing from two well hit blaster shots. You tensed, clenching your eyes shut with a face of minor pain, trying to ease through it so he could hold you, but of course, he noticed, and it did not go past his attention.

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it still hurt," he apologized, turning you around and letting his hand fall to the hem of your shirt. He hesitated, and looked back to your eyes, pleading with you for permission before you gave him a curt nod.

He lifted up the fabric enough to see that the bandaging pads that had been applied were far worn out and needed to be replaced as to not get infected.

"Come here," he said, tugging you by the hand and not giving you much of a chance to respond, before he hauled you back into his room and pointed at the bed, making you to lay down.

He left to the refresher, grabbing the supplies he remembered were under the sinks, then came back to sit beside you on the foot of his bed.

"When was the last time you changed these?" he asked in curiosity, peeling the barely stuck on medical pads that had helped to heal your wound so much over the past days.

"I don't remember," you scoffed, trying to avoid the slight sting when he cleaned the areas around the nicely forming scars.

"Well then, it's a good thing you probably won't need to change them again, I doubt you'd remember then, either."

"To be fair, I was stuck underground and lost most of my oxygen supply, making that two near death experiences in a week. I can hardly keep up with the number of ways I almost die," you joked, though he only thought it to be half amusing. Perhaps you were not so worried, but he constantly was. Worried sick over your safety, and if your survival would be ensured in most situations. It didn't help that you also ran into the face of danger, but he could only blame himself for that. as your master, he was to lead by example, and the example he set was to run into the face of danger, head on, without even thinking about the consequences sometimes.

"It looks much better than it did, I suppose it will be back to normal within a day or so, assuming you rest properly."

"Rest? Obi, I can't just sit around, my trials will be coming up, soon," you informed him, even though there wasn't even a set date or even a discussed idea of when those trials might take place. It wasn't going to be hard for you, he knew that, but he took into consideration how well you liked to prepare for these sort of things.

"Little one, you could take the trials when you are at your worst and still succeed. You are far beyond any other Padawan in this temple and had the rest of the council not held you back, you would probably be a grand master by now," he laughed lightly, and you smiled up at his gaze, waiting for him to finish reapplying the pads to your nearly healed wound.

He inspected his job of the application, smoothing it over one more time, before lowering himself to kiss over the areas left uncovered. When he sat back, he looked at you with the upmost adoration on his features.

This is love, at its purest form. This is sweet domesticity, and a commonplace interaction, but it was precious to you both.

"Senator Amidala, it's lovely to see you, as always," you commented, walking into the room and bowing. You and Obi-Wan, along with Commander Cody had been summoned to meet with her to talk about something, though you had not been aware of the subject.

"I'm glad you all could meet with me, I hope you are well," the pleasantries, though not necessary, were always a lovely break from the regular, more intense interactions you held with other people on the daily.

"As well as we can be," Obi-Wan told her, and she could see the evidence of exhaustion in his face. She knew how hard he drove himself to work, and that he never complained, only complied whenever anything was asked of him.

"Perhaps better when we arrive on Naboo," she replied, and the three of your expressions changed at once, eyebrows knit together and eyes narrowed in confusion, with heads tilted to the side. She almost laughed at your synchronized movements but figured she should probably explain her meaning. "The congress people of my planet have discussed and decided that there is a celebration to be held in honor of the 212th clone battalion and its leaders. This past attack on Naboo by the separatists was a vicious battle, and because of you and your men, thousands of lives were saved. It's the least we can do to show our gratitude."

"A celebration?"

"Yes, if you would be so kind as to indulge us, we would be obliged by your presence," she explained, and you saw a twinkle of mischief behind her eyes. Surely, she couldn't be hiding anything from you, because you would have sensed it, but that little sparkle in the deep brown of her pupils gave her away that something was up.

"I would have to deliberate with the council, malady. Though we are truly honored, I'm unsure if leaving Coruscant is wise during this time."

"There is no need for the council's permission, I have spoken with them prior to this meeting, and they have agreed to my terms," she had met with them already? She wanted to ensure that this was going to be a possible occasion, which meant she was definitely up to something. "All that is left is for you to agree as well."

You looked to your Master with pleading eyes. Naboo, of every planet in this galaxy, was your very favorite. The calmness, the serenity, and the romantic atmosphere. It was the most beautiful, enrapturing planet you'd ever seen, and you'd seen quite a few planets in your life.

Once his eyes met yours, he knew he had no choice but to accept this wonderful offer. It would be nice to take a break from everything and just simply relax for once. No missions, no meetings, no stress. Only time with you and his troops in a lovely place, where he could be himself and enjoy the sweetest things that life had to offer.

"I am very grateful for such an offer, malady, of which I can do nothing but accept. I suppose I can speak for my Padawan and Commander when I say we are very excited to see all you have planned."

You sent a small 'thank you for this,' into his head, and he mindlessly grabbed your knee in reply. No one noticed, although if they had, it probably wouldn't be a big deal. Padme knew of your feelings for him long ago and given that Anakin spills to her all the drama he can come home with, she also knew of his feelings for you. She wondered if any confessions had been made, or if you both were still just oblivious to the other's helpless pining.

Cody, who paid attention to everything, had found out about your relationship long ago, pretty much when it first formed. He hadn't said anything, because he knew it made his General happy, and that was a rare sight these days. When the Commander saw Kenobi's face change as you walked into a room, it lit up the entire atmosphere, and made the long trips and endless missions more bearable. To know that the one who worked the hardest was getting something in return, even if he wasn't supposed to.

"I will arrange a cruiser to board your battalion onto, and if you should like to join me on my ship, I would be happy to have the company," she added, standing to her feet, as did you.

"I will ride along with my men, but thank you, malady," Cody replied. Padme nodded, admiring how much he stood by his troopers. They were all brothers, made from one man, and they did everything by each other's side.

"I will take the cruiser along with my commander, but I'm sure my Padawan would be very happy to accompany you."

"How wonderful, I've been missing her presence."

You looked at Obi-Wan, a look on your face asking, 'why aren't you coming with me?' but he just put a hand at the small of your back, ushering you along to follow the senator. It wasn't until you were out of the room and in the hallway that he responded into your mind 'I will meet you there, my love. Don't worry.'

That was all you needed to be sure, and you followed Padme down a pathway that Obi-Wan and Cody did not join you on. You supposed it wouldn't be so bad. You had missed your time with Padme dearly, and taking a nice relaxing flight with her, away from all the men in your life, even the good ones, would be a nice change of pace.

@spencerrxids @sawendel @fandomstanner24 @i-shall-abide @officialjellydoughnut @whatshxrname @darkened-writer @superavengerpotter @cutiepoo16 @hypnoash @softlymellow @howlerwolfmax @mephistominion @honestlywtfisgoingon @anakinskywalkerog @mandiiellen @je--a-n @guyinachair27 @avenger5-a55emble @amelia-song-pond @kaminanii @the-abyss-of-fandoms @queenofnightdreamland @world-dominating-kitty @mandowhatnow @ella-error505 @annahalo @infinity-witch @beetlejuice-stuff @liueski @solarbxby @sirianisrock @lxdyred @endless-warrior-always-fighter @iloveinej @msjb2002 @shoochi @itsilvermorny @gingerrosecosplay @sebschicken @loversjoy @argentinemango @1-800-vader @house-of-kolchek @marierg @graciexmarvel @ttzamara @truly-madly-nerdy @molieux @majahu @dyzlks @pancakefancake

#obi wan x padawan #obi wan kenobi #obi wan series #obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan x reader #ewan mcgregor #anakin skywalker x reader #obi wan smut #obi wan fanart #obi wan x y/n #obi wan x oc #obi wan x you #obi wan angst #obi wan fluff #obi wan fanfiction #obi wan fic

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diazsdimples · 8 months

Text

(Another) WIP Snippet

So many works, so little progress. Anyways, enjoy! This is for Chapter 17 of Buck's Baby (By Accident)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buck hadn’t been on shift very long before he fell asleep face first in his breakfast. Hen and Chimney were sitting at the opposite end of the table from him, going over a quick refresher on correct intubation techniques when they noticed Buck’s head was slipping from where he had it resting on his hand.

Chimney, noticing it first, nudged Hen’s shoulder. “Reckon if I pulled his arm away, he’d faceplant?” he asked, watching in amusement as his brother-in-law slept soundly, face hovering dangerously close to his plate of eggs.

Hen looked at Buck sympathetically. “Eddie did say Aidan hadn’t been sleeping well, he’s probably exhausted” she tutted.

“The bags under his eyes are like suitcases” Chimney agreed. “Still, it would be a shame to let such a moment pass without messing with him a little”.

“You might not need to” Hen observed, gesturing to how Buck’s hand was barely supporting his head now as he slipped further and further. “He’s about to become very familiar with his food”.

Sure enough, Buck’s cheek slipped entirely off his hand and his fell bodily into his plate, landing face first in a pile of eggs, bacon, and ketchup. It wasn’t clear if the sudden jerk woke him up or the pain of headbutting a very solid table, but he was up like a shot, looking around in bewilderment as Hen and Chimney howled with laughter.

“What happened?” he asked, confusedly wiping ketchup from his face.

“You fell asleep” Hen answered between snorts. Chimney could hardly breathe for laughing and whipped out his phone, taking a photo of Buck’s tired, ketchup-stained face and sending it off to Eddie.

“Asleep? But it’s daytime” Buck replied, his brain still not firing on all cylinders.

“So true, but it sounds like your son hasn’t been making life easy for you” Hen replied, taking pity on the tired firefighter, and handing him a napkin. “Here, clean yourself up before Eddie freaks out”.

Just as Buck began to wipe his cheek, Bobby appeared from behind him, taking in the scene in front of him with a sort of amused confusion.

“Jesus, what happened here?” he asked, gesturing to Buck’s face and the way Chimney was wiping his eyes, finally having settled down. “Is that blood?”

“Blood?” Eddie’s voice echoed from the stairwell as he hurtled up the steps two at a time. “Who’s bleeding? Is Buck bleeding?”

Buck let out a low grown, dropping his head into his hands, effectively smearing the ketchup over his cheek. “I’m not bleeding, it’s just ketchup”.

“Would you care to tell us why you’ve got ketchup on your face?” Bobby asked, leaning against the kitchen counter. Eddie had perched himself next to Buck and took the napkin in hand, licking the edge of it before dabbing gently at Buck’s face. Buck scrunched up his face and jerked away in disgust.

“Gross, Ed, I don’t want your slobber on me. And it was an accident.”

This answer clearly didn’t satisfy Bobby in the least, and he turned to Hen and Chimney for a better explanation.

“He fell asleep in his breakfast” Hen replied simply.

“Fell headfirst into his breakfast, more like” Chimney added with a grin.

Bobby was looking increasingly more concerned. “Buck, are you sleeping okay?”.

Both Eddie and Buck let out derisive laughs at this. “I wouldn’t exactly call it “okay” but I’ve been sleeping” Buck replied.

“Aidan’s going through a mental leap or something and has decided that sleep is no longer his top priority” Eddie replied, still absentmindedly cleaning Buck’s face.

“That kid is allergic to sleep, I swear” Chimney chipped in. “We had him for one night while he was teething and we barely slept a wink”.

“Sounds about right. Welcome to our life”.

Bobby frowned at Buck, looking him up and down. “Right, Buck, I want you to hit the bunks and you can sit out the next call. I don’t want you falling asleep on the job and it’s not safe to have someone as sleep deprived as you operating life-saving equipment”.

Buck looked up, face mutinous. “Bobby, I’m fine, I just need a bit of coffee or something” he protested.

Bobby sent him a look, eyebrows raised, and head dipped downwards. Buck knew that look all too well. “Fine” he grumbled as he pushed himself away from the table. “I’ll see you later”.

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jeremiahofphilo · 9 days

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Usually, Yvonne’s days off were spent going shopping, perusing the library for some refreshers on her work, visiting new coffee shops, or lounging around at home with some nice self-care. It was always her putting herself first and foremost. That was until Jeremiah came along. Even if she was the one that stormed into his life the way she stormed into his flower shop the day they met.

Today was another day off for her. The nurse was now out of her scrubs and in some comfy casual clothes, sitting on a stool while tending to some minor wounds that her dear friend acquired during his day of tending to the plants. Plants and, well, fighting some wanderers. Her scoldings often seemed petty and lighthearted, but there’s always another layer to them. It’s easy enough now to tell she does worry about him, whether it’s the prick of a cactus or the slash from a wanderer.

The last of his wounds is cleaned and bandaged. “You know this isn’t very girlboss of you.” Yvonne casually says, inspecting the work she did on his hand. She holds it close to her gaze and for a moment, there’s a flicker of pure worry in her eyes. Or maybe it’s her exhaustion?

“As much as I’m grateful you’re still kicking, as well as how much I enjoy these little moments,” she begins and brings his knuckles closer to herself, “I wish you’d be more careful with yourself like you are with your plants.”

With that, she softly kisses each little bandage she put on his hand, moving it carefully to avoid causing any further pain – even if it’s not that bad. Then she leans over and kisses his cheek. Without pulling away completely, she almost shakily whispers,

“Nurse’s orders, alright? Just...put your well-being first once in a while.”

It didn't take much for Jeremiah to want to spend more time with this spirited nurse, the way she'd crashed into his life and how quickly he'd been willing to take up arms for her. What he didn't expect was how quickly she'd unravel him.

Much like ripping a bandaid off, he'd found she had a way of getting to him, the real him, in many unexpected ways. He'd never forget the look on her face the first time he attempted to explain the laceration on his arm was from a mere encounter with a cactus. His mistake.

It felt like forever ago now. And she's there across him, and he's lost in her deep brown eyes, pools that drew him in and held him there. Dangerous wells he felt he could hardly if ever refuse.

The phrase makes the corners of his lips curl up, and he begins to focus on the admirable touch of her hands. The sting and smell of antiseptic make him want to clench, but he tries to relax into her. The kisses make his heart melt, but it's the softness in her phrase that remind him why he's so in love.

"I...I hear you. I'll be more careful next time." There's an apology in his expression. He always means it –even if he fails.

He strokes her cheek and plants a soft kiss on her lips before squeezing her hand. "Thank you, Vonnie." Some of the softness gives way to a humorous spark in his eyes.

"Thanks to you, I may actually get my girlboss certificate by end of this century."

---

Send my muse a kiss

#answered #jeremiahs bouquet box #Malva Verse #the good nurse; Yvonne

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cerealmonster15 · 7 months

Text

Save Me a Dance [Jamil/Azul/Riddle]

[Ao3 Link]

Summary: Jamil, Riddle, and Azul take some time to enjoy themselves together at the Masquerade Ball.

“Rather spirited, isn’t he?”

Riddle spun around to face Jamil, who smiled and extended a hand out towards him.

“Indeed,” Riddle agreed as he accepted Jamil’s hand and fell in step with his movements. “I’m glad to see that Azul was more than just talk over how hard he and the others practiced their singing.”

The pair glanced over at where Azul stood in the center of the ballroom, singing his heart out alongside Malleus and Idia during the dance. Azul looked to be putting his all into every note, especially compared to the less than enthused looking Idia just a few feet away.

Jamil lifted his hand to twirl Riddle around. “I’d expect nothing less of him, really. Azul would never dream of making a fool of himself at such a public event…” he smirked. “Well, at least not from lack of effort, anyway.”

Riddle returned Jamil’s smug grin with one of his own. “You’re quite right about that. And by the looks of it, your extra dancing lessons with him definitely paid off, didn’t they? You looked to be enjoying yourself more out there with him each time we performed.”

The teasing nature of Riddle’s voice was not lost on Jamil. He huffed out a sigh in response, electing to twirl Riddle around a few more times to hide his own pouting. “Hey, come on, now. I didn’t want him to embarrass our school any more than he didn’t.”

“And he just let you help him for free?” Riddle asked, a playful eyebrow raise accompanying his question.

“Pft, of course not. I had to ‘make him promise’ to help Kalim study for an upcoming exam in my stead when we get back.” Jamil sighed, shaking his head. “Azul is still Azul, no matter how you look at him.”

Riddle’s grin softened into a gentler smile. “Perhaps that frees your schedule to come have tea with us in Heartslabyul?”

Jamil returned the smile. “That sounds nice, actually. I just might take you up on the offer.”

When the song finished, and everyone left their final positions to swarm the singers with praise, Azul turned away from the grumpy-as-ever Idia to face more welcoming company.

“Did you all enjoy my singing?” He asked the group that gathered, though his gaze was focused on Riddle and Jamil, eagerly anticipating their reactions the most.

Riddle couldn’t even try to hide his smile, swept up in the excitement of the evening’s festivities. “You hardly need our validation. I’m sure you’re very aware of how well you did.” He knew full well of how confident Azul was in his singing abilities, and while he didn’t normally enjoy inducing any of the Octavinelle boys’ obvious baiting… Well, Riddle still knew when to give credit where credit was due.

Jamil shook his head. “Way to be a sore winner,” he sighed, but even he couldn’t hide the smile creeping across his face as he met Azul’s eyes. “Very classy.”

Their smiles alone seemed to fill Azul with plenty of satisfaction and fulfillment. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments,” he said, beaming back at the pair.

As more students gathered to shower the trio of singers with compliments, Jamil and Riddle slowly made their way through the crowd and off to the side. They shared a moment of comfortable quiet between themselves, taking their time to decompress and - with some urging on Jamil’s part - taste the refreshments.

“Not too tired from dancing yet, I hope?”

Jamil and Riddle turned around and were yet again met by an approaching Azul.

“I do believe,” he continued, “that someone still owes me a dance tonight.” His gaze landed on Riddle, and he extended his hand out with a smile. “I’ll hope you didn’t wear him out already, Jamil.”

“Not a chance,” Jamil smirked. “Riddle could’ve just exhausted himself after a marathon and he’d still have more than enough stamina to keep up in a dance with you, Azul.”

Azul rolled his eyes. “Very funny. You’re only backhanding your own teaching skills with that kind of talk, you know.”

Riddle snickered as he took Azul’s hand and stepped forward. “Well, then… I suppose it’s all on you to showcase both Jamil’s teaching abilities and your newfound dance skills, hmm?”

“I certainly shall!” Azul huffed, but then smiled as he pulled Riddle close and began to dance. “And don’t you worry, Jamil,” he called over his shoulder as they moved further into the crowd. “I’ll make sure to find you afterwards for one more ‘test’ of my stamina.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamil waved the pair away, hiding a smile as he lifted his drink to his lips. “I’m sure you will.”

#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #riddle rosehearts #azul ashengrotto #jamiazurido #twst #cereal writes #ummm wahoo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#as usual the ao3 has more notes + tags but #this is just a light thing i wrote. brain exercise getting words on a page #a break from the nanowrimos bc i was getting stuck on those #wanted something chill and easy jsdfjksl nothing super deep this time either #im easing my way back into writing fics #taking some gentle steps alongside my longer projects bc im SCARED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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runningfrom2am · 1 year

Text

the sea around us; chapter seventeen

In which Rafe Cameron has to choose between his dad and a pogue who's changing his outlook on life more and more every day.

(rafe cameron x f!oc)

(eventual!jj maybank x f!oc)

warnings/tags: violence, drug/alcohol use, smoking, sexual content (if you squint), slowburn, older brother’s best friend, (these tags are obv not exhaustive but regardless it’s pretty PG13)

wc: 1.7k

my masterlist

series masterlist

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

~Rafe's POV~

I haven't heard from Snowy since we came in from the pool together. Pretty much she's been fully occupied with the Pogues ever since. I wonder what they're doing, if she's safe. That's a stupid thought, so I brush it quickly out of my mind. What I can't seem to keep out of my mind is how amazing it felt to kiss her. Everything about her is so soft- her lips are no different. Fully sober and I think it gave me butterflies, I haven't kissed someone like that since I was fifteen. It's almost refreshing.

I try not to think about Snowy for long enough to get in a quick bump. I'm hardly successful. Then I grab my golf club and get ready to line up my shot, but I'm distracted by my friends laughing and talking. "Hey, uh, can you guys shut up, for like three seconds?" I ask, turning back to Topper, Kegs, and Kelce. "We've got to hurry if we want to finish this hole- the sun is setting," I say.

"Yeah, yeah of course." Kelce says, raising his hands.

They're ridiculously quiet at this point, definitely just making fun of me. I line myself up again, take the swing, and fluke it right as I hear one of their phones rings.

"Bro, are you fucking kidding me right now?"

"Hey, man, sorry, how was I supposed to know?" Kegs says, digging his phone out of his pocket.

I roll my eyes and walk back to the cart, throwing my club in as he answers it.

"Hey, Snowy." Instantly he's got my attention, and I turn to watch. He looks confused.

"Snowy? You there?" He asks again, I'm guessing he got no response. "If this is some stupid prank call it's not funny." He pulls it from his ear and puts it on speaker since we're all listening now.

We hear some static, and then some whispers as we look around at each other, confused. "Leon... it's late. I've been waiting for you.."

"What the fuck?" Topper laughs.

"Hey, shh." I shush him as the whispers continue.

"Guys, oh my god what do we do?" It's Snowy, I'd recognize her voice anywhere.

"Snowy?" I ask, but again, no response.

"We have to get down there, like, right now." And Sarah?

Suddenly, we hear some screaming, then the sound of something getting smashed, and then it cuts out.

I feel myself start shaking instantly, and I start pacing back and forth, running my hand through my hair. "Rafe, man, it's fine. They're just pranking Kegs, probably high out of their minds or something." Kelce says and I shake my head.

"Dude, no- you don't understand, you don't know-" I start but I'm cut off.

"I love you, dude, but you're absolutely pussy-whipped." He jokes and I shove him back into the golf cart.

"You don't know shit!" I hear myself shouting.

"Rafe, buddy, calm down, hey.." Kegs says, pulling me off of Kelce and wrapping his arm around my shoulder. I feel sick- I feel sick and I wish no one was touching me. Then I shove him off too.

"No, no... You guys don't know what those pogues have roped her into, I don't even really know but last week she was getting shot at because of that punk JJ, apparently, who's pulled them into some drug debts or some shit-" I try to explain.

"Rafe, they're fine. They're fine but let's just head back to the club, and we can go to John B's to check on them, alright?" Topper says and Kegs shakes his head in confusion.

"Wait, did you say drugs?" He asks and I nod. "Not like weed, right, you mean like hard shit?"

"I don't know, man. She just said "drugs", okay?" I sigh.

"Fuck- dude..." Kegs says, taking his hat off and rubbing his forehead. "What do we do? I've done everything I possibly can to keep her out of that and it's just not enough, apparently."

"Look, maybe it's just Barry and we can talk to him?" I suggest hopefully, not that I fully believe it. "I- uh... I could get some money from my dad, I know how to get into the safe, and we could pay him out."

"He definitely would have said something to us if my sister and your.. I don't know, friend, as well as your sister and Topper's girl all were involved with him. No way he wouldn't say something." Kegs says, and I know he's right. "And you know we already owe him so we probably shouldn't poke the bear man."

"I... Okay, uh..." I try to think of a plan of action and calm down at the same time. I'm no help to her if I'm panicking. "Let's just get out of here, okay? We'll call Snowy when we get back to the club, and we'll try and find her." I insist, getting in the golf cart and my friends climb in.

The whole drive back I can feel myself shaking, I'm bouncing my leg and just trying to focus on finishing the drink Topper gave me to try and calm me down. It's far from working. I'm literally hearing that screaming in my head over and over again. It just won't stop. We eventually make it back, after the longest drive of my life. As soon as we get to the parking lot I'm on my phone, waiting for Snowy to pick up as I pace next to my car. It rings out until I hear her voice on the machine, I have to try again. I hangup and try again. This time, she answers.

I immediately hear laughter in the background. "Hi Rafe!" She sounds so happy- sloshed, too, probably. I furrow my brows. I assume she leaves, because the background noise slows to a stop.

"Snowy? What happened? Are you okay?" I fire off.

"I- yeah. I'm great. I'm great." She giggles. "What's up with you?"

"No, no, no, no don't do this to me." I sigh, walking away out of earshot of my nosey friends.

"What's wrong?" She asks.

"You don't know? Do you remember when you called Kegs, about twenty minutes ago, screaming, and- and, and I heard this banging sound like someone was bashing you with a crowbar?" I say.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must have butt-dialled him." She responds casually. I ball up my fist.

"Okay but you're not telling me what happened, here. You're not answering me."

"Nothing happened, Rafe. Everything is fine. We're safe. You don't need to worry." She says, that reassuring tone of hers taking over.

"No, I do, tell me."

"There's nothing to tell, even if there was, I don't know how it's your business anyhow." She slurs. Yeah, definitely drunk.

"If it's you, if it's your safety, it's my business. You are my business, Snowy." I say frustratedly, looking back at my friends as I talk, seeing they're still listening and having a laugh at me.

"Rafe, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out, okay? I shouldn't have said that. But I promise you right now, we are fine. I am safe- okay?"

I sigh and rub my head as she continues. "We were watching a movie at The Chat, now we're just hanging out, having some bevies, hotboxing the Twinkie..." She laughs a little. I can't focus with those screams echoing in the back of my head, her screams. And she's trying to gaslight me right now.

"I know what I heard." I say slowly.

"No, I know, I believe you." Her voice is so soft- I can almost taste the sweetness of it in my state. "I just, we were watching a scary movie, and I am high off my ass. I don't know what I said or did, but I'm sorry I scared you."

"It's okay, Snow." I sigh, shaking my hand to loosen up my muscles after I had my fist clenched for so long. I don't want to believe she's lying to me. I mean, clearly she is fine. She's alive, and she sounds like she's having fun. "I just- it's so hard to predict what kind of shit you're getting into when you're with them and it's hard for me to keep track of that and make sure that you're good. Like it would be nice to have a heads up if you're going to be in danger- which seems pretty common for you-"

"Hey, I'm good." Snowy cuts me off, curbing my rant that even I knew wasn't going anywhere. "I get it, you're just like... a proactive type of person. You like to have a hold on things before they go wrong and that's great, I really appreciate you looking out for me."

I nod a little bit and let out a breath I didn't know I was holding with my panic. "Yeah... I guess so. I just like to be prepared, you know?" I agree.

"Totally, and that makes you really smart because a lot of guys around our age can't think ten minutes into the future." I can hear the smile in her tone, she's being so genuine. "That being said, Rafe, I'm okay. Despite what you think, my friends wouldn't let anything happen to me."

I smile a little to myself at that. She thinks I'm smart- this inflates my ego more than I know it probably should. When I don't respond because I'm processing what she said, she speaks again. "Hey, why don't you come over, and we'll take out the boat, just the two of us..." She says, trailing off.

I look back at her brother, already feeling his eyes on me. I know he can't hear her, but I can, and that is too much already.

"I would love to, you know I'd love to, but.. I just can't. I'm busy I can't." I shake my head, more trying to convince myself.

"Aw, okay.." She replies. If I don't hangup right now I'll fold. I just know it. Besides, I have to figure out how to pay Barry so I can get my bike back, like as soon as possible.

"Bye, Snowy. I'll talk to you later." I say before quickly hanging up. I shove my phone into my pocket and walk back over to my friends.

"They're fine." I tell Kegs, getting in my car and driving off before he can say anything.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･

A/N; Another short one today sorryyyyy -R

taglist: @boo22sstuff@madelynie (message me if you want to be added!!)

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