#clari bright | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

katnissdoesnotfollowback · 8 months ago

Note

Katniss feeling insecure one random afternoon after seeing Peeta interact with some pretty girlies and asking him later that night all quiet if he thinks she’s pretty 🥺

I meant for this to be funny and then it turned out... not funny. Oh well. Enjoy some post-Mockingjay not fluff but not really angst??? No warning tags on this one.

“Having an eye for beauty isn’t the same thing as a weakness,” Peeta points out. “Except possibly when it comes to you.” - Catching Fire, Chapter 15 “You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty?” - Mockingjay, Chapter 16

It takes me longer than usual to finish trading with the new butcher. She’s originally from Ten and came here after marrying a soldier from Thirteen. She refused to live underground any longer and he tried living in Ten, but felt too exposed and jumpy in the flat plains of that district. Twelve was their compromise. But I haven’t had the chance to build the kind of rapport with her that I had with Rooba.

Rooba. I make a mental note to ask Peeta to draw her for the memory book tonight. We’ll both have memories of her that need to be recorded.

When I finish with the butcher, mostly satisfied with the cuts of deer meat and the coin I walk away with, I make my way over to the bakery. Usually I’d help Peeta close for the day. I got lucky catching the deer so close to the fence, but it still took time for me to bring back enough help to drag it to the butcher.

Surprisingly, there are still a handful of customers in the bakery. Unusual, this late in the day. I hasten my steps, thinking Peeta might want some help getting rid of the chatty customers, and seeing me after a hunt usually does the trick.

As I reach the window, though, I slow my pace. It’s not just any customers. It’s the Lassiter girls. They moved here after the war with their father, who used to be the head foreman at a perfume factory in District One. Apparently someone thought his skills would translate well to running a medicine factory, because that’s what his job here is. And his five daughters -- Neroli, Dior, Ambrette, Clary, and Opal -- aged twenty-four to sixteen, spaced two years apart down the line, are each just as beautiful as the last. Gossip holds that they each have a different mother, and while there’s been no confirmation from their father on that point, they’re each so strikingly different in looks and coloring that it wouldn’t surprise me.

They’re currently clustered near the counter, a bouquet of undoubtedly sweet smelling flowers. Their dresses a rainbow of eye-catching hues in expensive looking fabrics. All I can do is snort as I think of how dull and dingy their clothes would’ve been if they’d lived here when there was still a coal mine. But their hair, although different shades, all gleams in glossy waves and curls and curtains of shimmering silk in the bright lights of the bakery.

I hear Peeta’s laughter then, followed shortly by the twittering chorus of the Lassiter girls’ giggling. Ugh. They cannot be serious. Not my Peeta.

None of them are married yet, and there’ve already been several District Twelve men turned away from their front door step with dazed looks in their eyes, like they couldn’t believe they’d actually dared to propose to one of the Lassiter girls. And while this group ambush of my Peeta gives me an idea of what sort of partner they might be looking for, it’s unacceptable.

I push through the bakery door and attempt a smile. Neroli sees me first. The oldest, and by far the smartest of this bunch, our eyes meet and her lips curl in a smile. She’s dressed in a dark, forest green dress. Her dark, almost black hair swept to one side, into a long, sleek ponytail. There’s no denying that she’s stunning. Long, sooty black lashes frame her pale eyes that I’ve never been able to decide if they’re blue or gray. Some part of me knows that if I were somehow more beautiful, I might look like her.

Neroli glances at Peeta, then back at me. She inclines her head slightly towards me, and I’m not certain what she means until she speaks.

“Father will be wondering what’s keeping us,” she announces to her sisters. “Come on. Get your purchases and let’s leave these two turtle doves alone.”

She still pauses to say something to Peeta before she and her sisters clear out, but the glance she throws my way before shutting the door behind her makes me think that maybe Neroli and I might’ve been friends under different circumstances. When I finally manage to look at Peeta, he’s head down in the cases, cleaning them out.

“Lock the door for me? How was your day in the woods?”

“Not bad,” I tell him as I throw the bolt. “I got a deer.”

“That’s great!”

“Put this in the cold storage while I sweep?” I hand him the package from the butchers and he hands me a broom across the counter. It’s one of my usual chores and it isn’t long after that we’re headed home. But all through dinner, I can’t get the image of the flock of Lassiter girls twittering around him out of my head.

I distract myself after we clean up the kitchen with the memory book, telling Peeta about the deer today and how things went with the new butcher. We share a few memories of Rooba while he sketches her and I write them down in draft. We manage to finish her page and seal it into the book before it’s very late.

And while Peeta showers with me, and stands next to me while we brush our teeth and get ready for bed, he somehow feels distant. As I lay down and watch him as he carefully removes his prosthetic, I can’t help but think again about the Lassiter girls.

“Goodnight, my love,” he murmurs as he turns to me, slipping his legs under the covers and cupping my cheek in his palm before kissing my lips once, softly.

“Goodnight,” I respond and blink when he turns out the light and lays down.

But I can’t get comfortable. And behind my closed eyes, I see a still ravaged Peeta, the hijacking reversal barely even begun. His knuckles pale as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him and restraints holding him down, safely away from me.

“You’re not very big, are you? Or particularly pretty.”

I huff out a heavy breath and jam the heels of my palms into my closed eyes, trying to push the image out of my brain. He’s laying right here beside me. He kissed me and called me his love just minutes ago. What Peeta and I have puts the stars in the sky and the poets’ words on the page to shame with its depth and significance. That’s far better than some superficial beauty.

And yet the words still slip past my lips.

“Peeta,” I whisper, and he hums in response so that I’m not sure if he’s fully awake or not. “Do you think I’m pretty?”

There’s a few seconds of silence and then I hear the sound of the sheets rustling as Peeta turns over to face me.

“Are you serious?”

“It’s just a question,” I say and smack my hands down onto the bed, right at my sides. They’re still clenched into fists and I try to hold back the sudden, ridiculous tears welling up in my eyes. Because his hesitancy to answer tells me what I need to know. How stupid of me to ask.

“Katniss, honey,” he breathes and moves through the dark, pulling me into his arms. “You will always be as radiant as the sun to me,” he tells me and I snort, wishing I’d never told him that phrase or how I’d once used it. “No, I’m serious. Katniss, you take my breath away.”

“But I’m still not particularly pretty. At least not as pretty as Neroli Lassiter, am I?” I poke and I can feel his frame stiffening besides me.

“No. Oh no, no, you can’t believe what I said that day, Katniss.”

“But you were right. I’m not very big.”

“And we both looked like shit that day because we’d been through too much shit. That doesn’t mean I meant it, Katniss. You have to know I was… I was trying to hurt you that day. Hurt you the way I thought you’d hurt me. Because I thought you’d used me, chosen Gale and the rebels, and left me to die or worse in that arena.”

“I know,” I say and finally manage to turn over into his embrace, burying my face in his chest as he caresses my back and whispers a hundred apologies for his careless words. I inhale his scent and let his hands soothe me.

So when he slips his fingers beneath my chin, I let him lift my face to his. I close my eyes and savor the brush of his lips against mine.

“You once told me that I had a weakness for beautiful things,” he whispers. “Real or not real?”

“Real,” I answer without pause. I can smell the horses and feel the warmth of Cinna’s glowing ember costume. I can see Peeta in front of me, radiant and beautiful, and smiling in amusement at my assessment of him. “But you don’t have a weakness for beauty. Only an eye for it,” I remind him.

“So yes, Neroli Lassiter is a beautiful woman--”

“And her sisters?” I prod and I can feel Peeta smiling against my lips as he kisses me once.

“And her sisters are, too. But you’re the only beautiful person I have a weakness for. No one else has left a lasting impression the way you have.”

I can’t help but smile stupidly at the repetition of his words from the cave. The reminder that somewhere amongst the acting for the cameras, we always had at least a sliver, a taste, a fraction of or at least the roots of something real.

“I’m still a goner for you, Katniss Everdeen, real or not real?” he whispers, and I already know the answer. I know what he wants me to say, because it’s true.

“Real.”

#words are peetas thing not mine #everlark fanfiction #everlark #post mockingjay #i don't even know what this is #but here you go anon #enjoy #anonymous #look at that ask

144 notes · View notes

bookishjules · 30 days ago

Note

HIII please talk more Clace as parents 💕

well if you insist <3

i think their home is very bright. in color and light and just general atmosphere. even if it's just the institute, i think it's warmer than it was when robert and maryse headed the conclave. (i know this isn't strictly about their parenting but it felt important to set the stage)

they're 'treat your kids like people' parents. they're communicative, providing reasons for rules, making them part of the conversation. and they give their kids space to be themselves. "oh you wanna try out xyz? let's give it a go!" walls can be repainted, bruises can be healed. hair will grow back and messes can be cleaned up. they'd rather give their kids the opportunity to become whoever they want to be than place too many restrictions out of fear for their safety etc.

not that they don't worry ofc, but i think they really try hard to respect their children, and hold their hands more to guide and steady them than to pull or protect beyond what is necessary. it's about being shadowhunters and training them to fight and hold their own, but it goes beyond that.

the whole explaining rules etc. thing ends up being especially important because of how likely the kids are to break them. i mean these are clary and jace's kids we're talking about. they like adventure and excitement and sometimes things get a little out of control. it's helpful for the kids to understand where their parents are coming from, and that there's enough mutual respect for them to abide by the few very important rules etc. clary and jace give them.

and yes, i did say adventure. i feel like their kids are going to end up becoming a little team, getting into shenanigans, making up stories to play out or tell under the blankets late at night. it's the kind of thing jace and clary are both really happy to see develop, having been raised as only children, so they let their kids get into their chaotic games etc. and just make sure they've cleaned up their mess by the end of the day.

in addition to spending time together as a family, i think they also place importance on those one-on-one relationships. especially given how busy clary and jace must be, it does a lot for making each kid feel valued and also giving them the space to just. hang out. and maybe talk about hard things or maybe just joke around in a way that feels personal. jace is teaching one piano and clary sits and fingerpants with their youngest. jace helps each kid pick out their signature weapon and loves spending time in the training room with them.

speaking of jokes.. i think that goes along with the brightness. there's a levity that always feels accessible, even when things get heavy. and i think that's something that, while not unique to the clace household, does sit at a level that feels a bit exceptional just because of how natural it is, and how hard they fought to be able to live like that, to maintain such a life. it's not always easy, but it is always full of love.

#sorry it took me so long to get to this anon <3 #these things require a massive switch in my brain to be flipped and then still take a couple hours to write out #and the energy just has not been there for me lol #but hopefully this is what you were looking for!! i love thinking about them <3 thank you for giving me a reason to #clace #clary fairchild #jace herondale #clace fam #tsc #tmi #the shadowhunter chronicles #the mortal instruments #headcanon #vetted #anon <3 #asks

22 notes · View notes

tsc-malec · 1 month ago

Text

Alec and Aline tumbled out of the house after Isabelle, Aline in a bright red dress that made her hair look shockingly black. Alec had dressed like he usually did, in a sweater and dark pants, though Clary had to admit that at least the sweater didn’t appear to have any visible holes in it. He smiled at Clary, and she thought, with surprise, that actually he did look different. Lighter somehow, as if a weight were off his shoulders.

—City of Glass

#alec lightwood #clary fairchild #aline penhallow #city of glass #the mortal instruments #the shadowhunter chronicles

25 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 2 years ago

Note

AHHHHHH I rushed over here cause im out of a relationship and its been a bit so I felt comfortable enough to move on with someone sexually and in the middle of sex he goes "this feels so good dude" and my one friend was like whatever he called you dude but ME? im used to princess so when dude dropped from his mouth my pussy kinda became the desert down there... (no hate to ppl who like that term!!!! my best friend doesnt mind it, just not for me)

ANON i love u hehe <3 oh mannnnn no i am so with you on this. like to each their own of course like u said, but if someone called me ‘dude’ during sex i’d probably have to get up and leave LMAO like i’m sorry, what????? i am a princess or a baby or a slut or a whore or a brat or a bitch but most definitely not a dude. i don’t mind dude in literally any other context and i use it with friends, but during sex??? it’s a hard no for me thanks <3

#i'm so sorry anon LMAO #if this happened to me i'd be like ????? what am i ur bro or something???#ahahahaha #but on the bright side hey!! it's awesome you're feeling comfortable enough to have sex/be intimate with others!!! <3 #super happy for u in that regard anon <3 #i hope tuesday is treating you well!!#keep safe out there and stay healthy luvie <33 #inky.bb #clari gets mail

3 notes · View notes

anakin-pilled · 9 months ago

Text

𝘨𝘰𝘳𝘨𝘦𝘰𝘶𝘴 - anakin skywalker x fem! reader (part four)

pairing: anakin skywalker x fem! reader

wordcount: 7.1k

warnings: no use of y/n, alchohol consumption, reader gets drunk/tipsy, rushed ending

rating: 18+

author's note: i literally didn't mean for this to come out so late. life got in the way (again). i was super excited to write this chapter but the more i wrote it the more i was like UGH lowkey don't like the way this turned out but i hope you enjoy anyway! when will reader and anakin finally fuck? reblogs, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated xx

side note: i read on wookiepedia that in the sw universe, they refer to alcohol as "hooch" so i used that in the story...not sure if i like it but i wanted it to be immersive lol

creds to saradika for the divider!

The party was in full swing by the time you and Anakin arrived at the party. He knew Coruscant’s rich and famous lived lavish, but he would’ve never imagined attending a party of this splendor. A live jizz band was playing in one corner of the room, their shiny instruments reflecting off the chandelier lights. People of all species flocked to the living room, where protocol droids served an abundance of hooch and fanciful hor d’ourves. The people, dressed in the latest galactic fashion trends, laughed and danced with each other like they had no care in the world. Like there wasn’t a war happening throughout the galaxy–a war that threatened the very comfortability of their lives. Where there was much pain and turmoil in the galaxy, there was none in this room. Anakin was disgusted by this.

The host, an acquaintance named Jackson Wang, lived in an expensive high-rise located in Coruscant’s entertainment district. The three-story apartment was built with the most expensive materials in the galaxy. The windows were composed of reinforced clari-crystalline, and the floor was constructed out of white Wayland marble embedded with specks of Kallistan gems. Gold, shimmery streamers decorated the grandiose columns supporting the apartment, and there was bright, colorful plasto confetti strewn across the floor. The very presence of this room went against the Jedi code–it was an attachment to wealth and materialism. Even if Anakin never joined the Jedi, he still would have found this party revolting. How could people live like this when there was still so much wrong with the galaxy? Slavery, poverty, species discrimination, etc. were all happening under the Republic. Being born a slave radicalized Anakin. It was harder for him to ignore the galaxy’s rampant class differences. It proved to him even further that politicians could not be trusted–because how could they allow such a disparity to run rampant?

Anakin’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in the sight before him. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but the creases between his eyebrows told you it was nothing positive. You noticed Anakin looked out of place in his humble, dark Jedi attire. You knew this wasn’t his scene, and he might feel out of place, but Anakin insisted on coming. What business did a Jedi have doing at a party like this? “For your protection,” he defended.

“You okay there? You look like you’re about to shoot lightsabers out of your eyes with that glare.” It was true. Anakin’s eyes were a dark, stormy blue right now.

You thought he would have laughed at your stupid joke, but Anakin’s glare only became directed towards you. You shivered in response. His glare was intense which was exacerbated by the scar on his face. His presence exuded authority, it was raw and powerful. You would gladly give into it every time.

“I’m fine. I think this party is ridiculous,” Anakin replied. “Look at all the food just sitting there, no one is eating it, and they’re ignoring the servers. The least they can do is acknowledge the servers. Do you know how many planets are starving out there? Entire systems wiped out by the Separatists? Just for the rich to parade here and let good food spoil.” He scoffed at the end of his sentence.

You had no idea Anakin would feel so strongly about this. However, what Anakin was saying made complete sense. You felt guilty–even if he wasn’t directly speaking about you, these were still your “people.” You always tried your best to not be wasteful and treat all workers respectfully. Even so, it couldn’t be denied that rich people, more often than not, were the opposite of you.

“I agree with you. I don’t know why they order so much food, especially when they know that most people will be too busy drinking, talking, or dancing. Why don’t we make sure that the food doesn’t go to waste by having some?” you offered as a solution. That wasn’t Anakin’s point, but he conceded anyway. The both of you walked towards a table where a pretty spread of food sat like decoration.

After fixing yourselves a small plate of food, you began speaking again. “Thank you, Anakin. You and the Jedi are doing your best to ensure the safety of the Republic and all of the galaxy’s inhabitants. We shouldn’t be allowed to parade here, not while others are struggling to survive.”

“I didn’t intend to insult you. It’s just an observation that I made. You can’t help but become cynical after witnessing war crimes being performed on innocent people.” Anakin was slightly embarrassed. He didn’t mean to group you in with everyone else, especially after you and your team have graciously treated him these last few rotations. But still, he meant what he said.

“How is it being on the battlefield? It must be so hard to be in constant chaos. Anakin, you are so brave, ” you innocently wondered.

Anakin didn’t know how to describe it to a civilian, mainly because Anakin rarely found himself around civilians nowadays. The only civilians he encountered were those who needed saving, those who understood the brutality of war. Anakin knew that not everyone in the Jedi organization agreed with their current roles under the Republic. Some Jedi believed that the Republic was interfering too much with Jedi affairs and that the Jedi should relinquish their roles as generals. Others, including Anakin, believed that the Jedi were too constrained by the Jedi principles and teachings to effectively fight in this war. Though there were many wins for the Republic, almost every loss encountered could’ve been a win, if only the Jedi could see past the teachings for a moment. On top of that, the Senate’s constant feuding and bickering rendered it useless. They could barely fund the war at the moment, hence a select group of Senators decided to host a concert charity benefit to raise credits for the war effort. There was so much uncertainty. If Anakin was certain about one thing, however, it’s that he belonged on the battlefield.

“I hate war…but I love being on the battlefield.” Anakin hesitated for a moment before continuing, “I was a slave, along with my mother, before the Jedi found me. I had only heard of the Jedi. They were mythical to me, they sounded too good to be true.” Anakin never thought he would be revealing this information to another soul, especially not in the middle of a party with one of the galaxy’s biggest singers.

Your breath slightly hitched at Anakin’s confession. A part of your heart shattered, and an overwhelming feeling of empathy and sadness washed over you. Anakin felt the shift in your energy.

“Being a Jedi is an honor, and being on the battlefield allows me to be the type of Jedi that I pictured as a young boy. As a slave, I was subjected to my former owner’s rule, never allowed to act on my own. On the battlefield, I act on my own and make my own decisions. I’m using my power for the greater good, ensuring that the galaxy doesn’t tumble further into chaos and destruction. I can be myself on the battlefield. There’s a sense of independence from everything when it’s just you, your padawan, and your legion. It’s a reminder of how far I have come in life,” Anakin finished with a hard edge to his voice.

“Anakin…I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you used to be a slave,” You said gently as if the words you spoke were made of glass. Who would have thought that one of the galaxy’s most powerful Jedi used to be a slave? Hearing those words come from Anakin’s mouth shocked you.

“Don’t apologize. You couldn’t have known.” Anakin didn’t want you to feel bad. He looked off to the side, suddenly feeling like his flustered nineteen-year-old self again. This wasn’t information he easily divulged, nonetheless to someone he met only a few rotations ago. Anakin hoped it wouldn’t change your view of him.

You grabbed Anakin’s hand and reassuringly rubbed your thumb on the top of his hand. Your thumb felt the ridges and lines of his veins. “You didn’t deserve that. Neither did your mother–no one ever deserves to be a slave. I’m picturing the young version of you, and my heart is breaking. You were just a child, too innocent and pure to be in that situation. I don’t want you to think I’m pitying you, Anakin. If anything, I think you’re even braver now after learning about your past. Thank you for sharing that with me. It couldn’t have been easy.”

What you were saying was the truth. An image of a small Anakin flashed through your brain. You imagined he had golden hair that illuminated his face like a halo and brilliant blue eyes that contrasted against the rugged, red monochromatic terrain of Tatooine. If Anakin looked like a god now, he must’ve looked like a cherub when he was little. Your awe for Anakin grew tenfold.

He had been dealt life’s shittiest stack of cards and managed to overcome it all.

It was silent for a moment. It’s not that Anakin didn’t want to respond, but he didn’t know how to respond, so he simply nodded. Anakin couldn’t verbalize any words. He felt vulnerable right now. It was as if Anakin responded to your words, it would solidify the fact that he shared one of his deepest secrets with you. He wasn’t ready to confront what that meant, so he stayed silent.

You took note of Anakin’s silence and shifted the conversation to yourself. You understood how daunting it was to reveal a part of yourself that you often kept hidden away.

“Per my contract, I’m not allowed to voice my opinion on anything polarizing. I can’t speak on politics, the economy, war. It was half a shock to the public when the media announced that I would be headlining the benefit concert. On one hand, it made sense because I’m one of the more popular artists in the galaxy right now. On the other hand, people were shocked I was taking a political stance, even if indirectly,” you explained to Anakin. You grabbed a glass of the ambrosia-colored liquid that was stationed next to you and Anakin. It was bitter but had subtle notes of sweetness. You took a few sips before continuing.

“It’s unfortunate that it has to be that way. There are so many times when I wished I could’ve spoken up and used my influence for something that matters. Sometimes I feel like a coward because I see everything happening in the galaxy and I’m voiceless. The truth is I am a coward, just like every other person in this room. We have all this wealth and influence, just to do what? Let it sit in a bank account or spend it carelessly? It’s pathetic. We should be doing more.” Just because you weren’t allowed to publicly speak about certain topics didn’t mean you had no opinions on it altogether.

You took a few more sips of your drink before finishing it. You placed the glass back on the tabletop and gave Anakin a sheepish smile, “I’m rambling now, aren’t I? Sorry about that. I ramble when I get nervous. Anyway, my point is I’m glad that I took the opportunity to headline the benefit. I think my team was slightly against it at first, but after some convincing from the chancellor, they changed their minds and allowed me to do it. People like you, those who have actually witnessed the spoils of war, remind me of why it’s so important to take a stand. I don’t want to be voiceless anymore–not at such a crucial time in politics. If I can’t do the actual fighting, then I’m glad to support those who do by lending my talents. I’ll milk those suckers for all the credits they have.”

Anakin chuckled at your last sentence. He appreciated your sentiment. “Not many can say the same as you. Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Anakin. I’m just doing what any person in my position should do. I probably pissed off some people, but oh well.”

You heard your name being called from the side. Your conversation was interrupted by your friend, Cressida, a fashion designer from a small mid-rim planet who made a name for herself through her unique and stylish designs. Her skin was dyed pink (you knew her natural skin tone was a lifeless pale), and her hair was coiffed in an elaborate bun with pastel ringlets falling over and small curls sticking to the nape of her neck, appearing messy yet sensual. She came from a planet inhabited by humanoids known for their allure caused by specially produced pheromones.

“Cressida, it’s so lovely to see you! How’s your latest line going?” you faked a smile before greeting her with two kisses on either side of her cheek. Your mother always told you to play nice since playing dirty resulted in getting burned.

“Oh you know, the critics are having a heyday with it. They say I might even win my first fashion award. And who is this? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before at one of these parties. Our little singer here rarely brings anyone around anymore,” Cressida stated. Her bright green eyes landed on Anakin as if he was something she wanted to lay claim to.

“Friend” was an overstatement. You had known Cressida for around two years, but you wouldn’t consider her a close friend. She was someone you partied with to have fun–a member of your social circle but not your inner circle. You had yet to determine her trustworthiness. While Cressida had never crossed you directly, her catty remarks now and then signaled a radar in your brain.

“This is Anakin Skywalker, a Jedi assigned to watch over me for the upcoming benefit concert,” you explained.

Cressida’s eyes widened slightly. “The Anakin Skywalker? My, you’re even more handsome in person than in the holograms they project on the billboards. I almost didn’t recognize you with that serious look on your face. You shouldn’t glare so much, it’ll only age you faster.”

The fake smile on your face was beginning to hurt. Why did it annoy you so much that she found Anakin handsome? It was an objective fact that most people would agree with. You ignored the nagging feeling in your stomach. You were here to relax your mind and push away the racing thoughts of Anakin from your mind. If Cressida wanted to flirt with Anakin, so be it. It’s not like he could do anything about it, even if he wanted to. Anakin was a temporary occurrence in your life, something that would only last a short time, just to be forgotten as life moves on.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. And you are?” Anakin responded with a short nod to show his thanks for her compliment. Anakin was used to people fawning over his looks. This wasn’t the first time a stranger, female or male, complimented him mere seconds after meeting him. The compliments did fuel his ego, but he never took them to heart as he only cared about what Padme thought. Now that Padme was gone, he indulged in the occasional compliment. Still, this compliment did not sound right coming from the pink lady in front of him. Cressida looked at Anakin like an object, a feeling he very much detested. It reminded him of the way Watto used to look at him.

“I’m Cressida Calpurnia. I know some people who would love to meet you Anakin,” Cressia announced. “Do you mind if I steal him for a few minutes? I promise I won’t be long. I believe I saw Chione somewhere upstairs waiting for you.” A sickly sweet smile appeared on Cressida’s face as she batted her white eyelashes at you. You knew most people at this party did not give a damn about the war, for they were all vapid and too consumed by the drama in their own lives to think about anything else. It was hypocritical to think, considering you were also one of them, but it was also different because most of the people in this room were nepotism babies born with silver spoons in their mouths. You knew the value of hard work and had some sense of reality, though altered over the last few years as you came into superstardom.

You knew you couldn’t refuse Cressida’s offer. What grounds did you have to refuse? A twinge of childish jealousy? You were afraid if you denied Cressida’s offer, she would think something was happening between you two. The last thing you needed was Cressida’s gossipy mouth spreading a rumor like that to your social circle. You didn’t care if it affected your reputation, but you didn’t know what Anakin’s consequences could be if the HoloNet tabloids captured a rumor like that.

“Well, I can’t speak for Anakin.” You turned towards Anakin and reassured him, “You can go ahead if you want. I think everyone would be excited to meet someone so famous (ironic considering most people in this room were famous or at least famous adjacent). I’ll just go find Chione upstairs.”

Anakin didn’t want to go either. He rather stay by your side the entire night. You were the only reason he went to the party in the first place. Anakin only used the excuse of protection to spend more time with you. You didn’t have much time together left, and Anakin knew that once this mission was done, the Council would send him to the farthest corners of the galaxy. Anakin didn’t know if he would ever be able to see you again, so he wanted to soak up your presence as much as possible. He was about to protest and explain to Cressida that he would prefer to stay with you, but she drew her talons in him before he could speak.

“I promise we don’t bite,” Cressida flirtatiously said before grabbing Anakin by his gloved arm and pulling him toward a couch filled with mutual friends. You mentally swore that you would bite her instead. Cressida’s flirtatious nature normally did not bother you, but she was slowly getting on your nerves now.

Anakin looked over his shoulder and made eye contact with you, an apologetic look gracing his face before he turned his attention to Cressida and walked away with her.

“That nerfherder bitch!” Chione exclaimed to you as you recalled the recent interaction between you and Cressida. You both looked in the refresher’s mirror as you retouched your makeup. You already downed a flute of some fizzy hooch, a warm feeling settling over your stomach as you spoke. Drinking always made you loose-lipped, which is why your best friend was currently cursing Cressida.

“You should just avoid him,” Chione shrugged. You could trust Chione with all your secrets, including your crush on the Jedi. You recounted the dilemma–how attracted you were to Anakin, but you couldn’t do anything about it because the Jedi code forbade any attachments. Your forced proximity to him made the situation worse. You couldn’t escape him over the past few rotations. Each day somehow brought the two of you closer together. It was agonizing. The Maker was cruel and taunting. How dare they throw your life into even more of a whirlwind by introducing Anakin Skywalker? Maybe if Anakin was a regular man, you would have pursued him. Unfortunately, that was not the case. Your whole world has shifted off its hinges since Anakin came into your life. You didn’t know what could fix it, except for Anakin being yours.

“What a load of bantha shit…I don’t know if I can avoid him. That’s what I’ve been telling myself to do! But every time I try, the galaxy pulls us closer. When Gido first told me that they were assigning a Jedi to me, I was scared because I thought it would only bring more trouble. But Anakin…he’s so sweet. We don’t fully know each other yet, but each interaction has brought us closer. I guess I could even consider him a friend. A very handsome friend who I think about more than I should…” you trailed off.

You intentionally left out your earlier conversation with Anakin. Chione didn’t need to know that sensitive information. A deeper part of you disagreed with Chione’s advice; you didn’t want to avoid Anakin, not when you were slowly unraveling the puzzle that he is. You wanted to know him, even if meant you would eventually break your own heart. You hadn’t felt this way about anyone in a few years, and even then, no one had ever made you the same level of intensity that Anakin did. It was intoxicating, and you wanted more of it.

“I love you, but it’s for the best. There’s no way you two could possibly be together. Don’t let yourself fall for him, only for you to be disappointed when he won’t leave the space monks for you. You’re better off finding someone else at this party.” Chione gave you a sad half-smile. You returned her smile with a small eye roll. “I wouldn’t say that if I didn’t mean it.”

Another part of you, a more conscious one, flashed blaring signs in your mind. “Stop! Turn around! Imminent danger ahead!” they said. Perhaps it was out of fear. As much as you wanted to fall head first into Anakin, you didn’t want to deal with his aftermath. When he inevitably leaves, there will be no one to pick up the pieces of your heart. You didn’t even think it was possible to fall for someone so fast. Yet here you were. The signs knew this, and so they warned you of the danger slowly encroaching on your heart–heed Chione’s words.

You knew your best friend was right, even if you didn’t want to admit it out loud. You bit your lip and nodded in agreeance.

Chione then grabbed your head and the two of you walked out of the refresher. You smiled at a few people on the way to the main room. Parties like these were the one of the only few places where you felt normal nowadays. Everyone here was someone, and if they weren’t someone then they were en route to becoming someone. There was a mutual understanding between everyone here–no fawning, no fangirling, and certainly no spilling gossip to the HoloNet. Of course, some people ignored that rule though.

“Wouldn’t that be rude of me to just leave him? I’m the only reason why he’s here. Plus, I don’t want to leave him with Cressida. She’ll dig her claws into him and never let go,” you questioned.

“I don’t know. Anakin appears to be having a great time with Cressida. He’s laughing and smiling,” Chione gestured toward the couch.

You whipped your head toward Anakin’s direction. Chione was right. Anakin was sitting there as he told the story of how he had to crashland on the planet of Mygeeto, only to be met with mastiff phalones. Every single person was focused on Anakin, their eyes never leaving his person. You saw a look of wonder on all of their faces. The feeling of jealousy washed over your body for the second time that night.

You turned away from the sight before it could enrage you anymore. With a nose turned up in the air and a dramatic hair flip, you grabbed Chione again and dragged her to another room in the apartment. If she wanted you to avoid Anakin, fine. You would do exactly that.

You dragged Chione until you reached the new room where lively, upbeat music was playing and a plethora of people danced together.

You quickly grabbed two extra flutes of hooch with your free hand and handed one to Chione. You chugged the flute down, slightly cringing at the taste, before placing it on the silver tray of a server passing by. Chione did the same before hollering, “Let’s dance!”

You shot her a flashy smile, and the two of you made your way into the crowd of energetic, sweaty bodies.

Anakin Skywalker was bored and wanted to get as far away from these people as possible. He thought one or two stories would satisfy their curiosity, but an hour and a half passed since he first sat down and no one was satisfied yet. They wanted to know everything about Anakin. How was life at the Temple? What was it like fighting in the war? Anakin understood their curiosity. He was once a curious boy, and he used to love hearing the tales from the deep space pilots that were stationed on Tatooine. It wasn’t every day that civilians encountered the Jedi, especially now that the Jedi were more off-world than on-world sometimes. It slightly boosted his ego to have an audience so enthralled by him.

At the same time, they all looked at Anakin like a commodity. They didn’t truly care about what Anakin had to say, or about the war at all. He was simply bragging points to them. Everyone would run to their friends and brag about how they met the famous Hero with No Fear after the party ended. Nothing he said would impact them. Whenever you asked Anakin questions about himself, it was different. You were genuine like you wanted to know more about him and not the persona the Republic created. Anakin was captivated by you, which is why he revealed his origins to you earlier. Not even Ahsoka learned the truth about Anakin’s past directly from Anakin–she learned it from Obi-Wan before their mission on Zygerria. Each moment between you two was marked by a saccharine tenderness. It was a type of tenderness that Anakin missed and craved all the time. Despite being a Jedi, Anakin thought of himself as a loverboy. He loved wholly and completely. And although you two were not in love, Anakin could picture himself harboring deep feelings for you. He was at the edge of the cliff, ready to fall into the deep descent of love.

Anakin couldn't escape his current company. His jaw was starting to hurt from fake smiling. As a representative of the Republic and the Jedi organization, he couldn’t exactly be rude towards them just because he wanted to escape and spend time with you. Several times throughout his time on the couch, Anakin saw you interacting with other people as you made your way through the party’s various rooms. Each time he tried to make eye contact with you, you adverted his gaze and turned your attention elsewhere.

You couldn’t possibly be avoiding Anakin, could you? Except for Anakin, it felt like you were avoiding him. You were talking to everyone else but him. Every time he wanted to reach you, he was whisked away into another story. He could have sworn that you purposely turned in the opposite direction every time you made eye contact. But maybe he was overthinking it? Did you see him differently now that you knew he used to be a slave? He felt insecure. No, that couldn’t be it. The way you spoke to him with such empathy signified to Anakin that it wouldn’t affect the way you saw him. He felt it.

Anakin felt paranoid, and he didn’t know why. Why did he care so much anyway? Anakin rationalized with himself. He was supposed to be your protector which is why he was so eager to return to your side. Not because he wanted to talk to you and get to know you more. And definitely not because you were affecting him way more than he would like to admit.

“...so it true that Jedi aren’t allowed to have sex?” asked a Twi’lek woman to Anakin’s left. Anakin’s eyes widened at the question, and a pretty blush rose to his cheeks. Before he could answer, another woman around the couch protested.

“You can’t just ask people that, Almathea! It’s rude…but do you have sex?” she asked with a seductive raise of her eyebrow.

Anakin took this moment as a sign to end the conversation and get back to you. He stood up from the couch in all his 6’2 glory. He was so statuesque, his statue and demeanor demanded attention from everyone he encountered. It was no wonder he was being held hostage by Cressida and her crew.

“My deepest apologies everyone, but I must return to my original duty. I appreciate your curiosity in the Jedi and hope we can cross paths again one day. May the Force be with you all.” Anakin then flashed one last fake smile to the audience before stepping over a few tangled legs and towards the next room. He closed his eyes and narrowed his focus to locate your person. You were still at the party, just in a different room located somewhere in the apartment’s east wing.

The Jedi made his way through the different rooms trying to find you. He passed through people dancing, people playing roulette, some were crying, and some were laughing. It was like a scene from one of Canto Bight’s deluxe, elite casinos. Snippets of gossip and whispers of amazement filtered through Anakin’s ears as he walked closer to your location.

Anakin finally stopped in another room filled with people socializing. The deep baritone notes of a saxophone mixed with a catchy melody danced around the room, shrouding it in a sultry aura. The lighting in this room was low, and the chandelier hanging from the roof was set to the lowest setting possible. If it weren’t for Anakin’s keen eyesight, he almost didn’t make out your figure. Years of dealing with Tatooine’s sandstorms made Anakin’s eyes adept at finding people and objects in otherwise difficult situations. As a child, Anakin always looked toward the colorful fabrics flying at the top of the slave quarters when an incoming sandstorm was happening. If he could find those colorful fabrics flowing in the wind, then Anakin knew he would be safe for another day. Additionally, Anakin had to have a good eye for whenever he worked on his pod racer or tinkered with droid parts.

You were in the far corner of the room, dancing with another male. His hands were on your lower back, resting very closely to your tailbone. Your body was pressed against his and your arms hung tightly around his neck. Anakin couldn’t spot the male’s face because his face was buried in the side of your neck as he whispered something into your ear. Anakin desperately wished he knew what the male was saying to you. You giggled in response. Chione was nowhere to be seen. She separated from you as she conversed with one of her other friends.

Jealousy was the common theme of the night. Earlier in the night, you were jealous at the site of Cressida oogling Anakin. Now, it was Anakin who was jealous. He was jealous that someone else held your attention while Anakin had been craving it all night. Who was this guy? Anakin wondered to himself. Did you have a boyfriend that Anakin didn’t know about? Did he read any signs wrong? Well, there weren’t too many signs to begin with. Anakin did catch one of your stray thoughts from your initial meeting in which you said he was “kriffing gorgeous.” And Anakin may have felt changes in your emotional state around him, but who was he to assume that was because of him? Like that time he was teaching you how to drive your air speeder and he had placed his hands on top of yours as a guide. He felt a spike in your force signature. Everything else consisted of lingering stares, subtle blushes, or conversation Anakin didn’t want to end.

Anakin wouldn’t have been wrong to assume you felt something for him, because you did. He just didn’t know it yet.

The male in front of you was another mutual friend who you met before at a different party. He, Rigel, was a famous musical producer who worked with some of your other musician friends from time to time. Much like Anakin, Rigel had stunning blue eyes. You ran into Rigel with Chione—who decided to play matchmaker by leaving you two alone. You offhandedly mentioned before how you thought Rigel was cute, but that was before Anakin waltzed into your life.

If you were sober, you would’ve never been caught nearly grinding on someone like this in a public place. It may have been a private party, but just one picture could spread rumors like wildfire. You were more media-trained than that. Plus, it wasn’t in your character to randomly become so intimate with another person so quickly. It looks like you took Chione’s advice a little bit too seriously. Well, that was the goal of coming to this party anyway, right?

Truth be told, you could barely understand what Rigel was whispering in your ear. It didn’t matter either way. Your brain was somewhere else, thinking of Anakin. How badly you wanted to grab him by his face and smash your lips together in front of Cressida. You wanted to run your hands through his silky curls. How did he manage to have perfect hair? What type of shampoo and conditioner did Anakin have access to on the field? After you kissed him, you would lead Anakin away from the party and into an empty bedroom where you would lay him on the bed and straddle him then—Wait! What were you thinking? The hooch was having the opposite effect on you. You drank to forget, not to remember. You opened your eyes and furiously blinked as to forget the thoughts. When you closed your eyes again, your brain automatically went to your previous dreamland. It’s almost like you could hear Anakin’s voice from right next to you.

“Excuse me,” interrupted a harsh voice.

You once again opened your eyes only to be met with the site of an annoyed Anakin. You quickly separated yourself from Rigel, who removed his face from your neck and stared unimpressively at the Jedi. Your heart skipped a beat—you weren’t expecting Anakin to appear.

“A-anakin! This is Rigel…” you sheepishly introduced the two. Karking hell, this was so embarrassing! You hated that you were caught in such a compromising position, especially from the person you were trying to avoid. You then pointed to Anakin and took a deep breath before finishing, “Rigel, this is General Anakin Skywalker.” Your body turned into an inferno as the embarrassment rose. You were too drunk for this right now.

The two men sized each other up through their stares before nodding to acknowledge each other.

“We were…um…we were just-“ you stumbled over your words as you tried to find the right ones. Anakin noticed your eyes looked glazed over and a little droopy.

Rigel stepped in to save your sentence. “We were just getting to know each other. Perhaps you can go back to telling your little Jedi stories? I heard they were very entertaining.”

“Perhaps not. Pop star, I believe it’s time we retreat back to your apartment,” Anakin responded with as much sass as possible. Anakin rather freeze alive on Hoth than allow himself to leave you with some seedy character. Anakin asserted dominance by calling you by the nickname he gave to you. He was saying to Rigel that he knew you enough to have a nickname, which was more claim than Rigel had. Not that you were anything to claim, but Anakin’s possessiveness jumped at the sight of you two. Had you told Anakin that you wanted to stay with Rigel, he would’ve left you alone. You were a grown woman after all. However, Anakin’s statement left no room for argument.

You bid Rigel goodbye, before turning to Anakin and hiccupping. You were annoyed. Was this the Maker’s way of telling you that you were meant to be with Anakin? If it was meant to be with Rigel, then it wouldn’t have been interrupted, right? Or was that just your drunk mind trying to rationalize what just happened? It was definitely the latter, you just didn’t recognize it yet.

“Let’s go,” you stated flatly. You began walking. You regretted your choice of wearing such an elaborate floor-length gown, seeing as you had to lift the dress so it wouldn’t drag on the floor. It was no issue earlier, but now that you were drunk, it was becoming a hassle. You couldn’t balance yourself and hold your dress at the same time, especially in the heels you were wearing.

“How much have you had to drink?” Anakin asked as you stumbled to the entrance of the party. Your lipstick was smudged from all the drinks you had, and in your drunken stupor, you failed to reapply it. You couldn’t count how many drinks you downed. Was it seven or ten? It didn’t even matter anymore because five was your usual stopping point.

“I don’t even know. Probably too much for my own good.” You weren’t watching where you were walking as you said that. A piece of your dress slipped under your heel causing you to almost tumble toward the floor. Anakin caught you by your waist before you could fall. It seemed Anakin had a knack for catching you. You straightened yourself off and continued walking.

“Come here for a second,” Anakin said from behind. He stood with his weight on one side, hips beckoning you toward him.

“Why? I thought it was time for us to go,” you rebuttal.

“It’s in your best interest to come back, not mine.”

You turned around and faced Anakin with a sassy look on your face. He only bent down and grabbed a hold of your ankle, “If you must know, I’m doing you the pleasure of taking off your footwear so that you can walk in comfortably. You’ve had too much to drink to walk in these without injuring yourself.” He was talking about a few moments ago when you almost faceplanted into the floor.

Instead of being grateful for Anakin’s chivalry, you decided to tease him instead. It was the only way you knew how to react to his kindness without instantaneously combusting. You were embarrassed still, but you tried to push those feelings aside. You hated dwelling on embarrassment—sometimes it was best to move on without acknowledgment.

“Why do you speak like that?” you asked with a tilt of your head.

Anakin was confused by your question, “Speak like what?”

“You know. You speak so…melodramatic. Like everything you’re saying is a declaration. Your cadence is so fancy. Why If I didn’t know you were a Jedi, I would mistake you for a wealthy socialite,” you giggled. “It’s quite funny actually. You belong on the Opera stage, ready to declare to the entirety of Coruscant. You would be the Hero of the play.”

Anakin looked at you with a deadpan stare. “Do I really speak like that?” It’s something he had never noticed before. Obi-Wan’s mannerisms must’ve rubbed off on Anakin more than he noticed. As you were speaking, Anakin was undoing the straps of your heels. “Well, If I’m the hero, then you must be the damsel in distress.”

You cleared your throat and began mimicking Anakin again, “I do suppose that you speak like that. Why I go by Anakin Skywalker, and I’m a Jedi Knight. I’ve been on many perilous journeys, but the most perilous of them all has been to watch you. No battle droid or distant planet could compare to the chaos of handling an intergalactic singer.” You tried replicating the huskiness and cadence of Anakin’s voice. Instead, it came out sounding like you were recovering from a nasty cough. You poked fun at yourself too.

Anakin laughed at your brazen attempt to make fun of him. He dropped your ankle and grabbed your heels. They hung by their straps as his fingers gripped them with care.

“Very funny. Are you sure you weren’t written by a playwright? You should be more comfortable now that we’ve removed these atrocious heels. You should be able to walk without any hassle now.” You didn’t get a chance to say thank you to Anakin as he started walking toward the entrance.

You lingered behind for a second, taking in the moment. Anakin was too sweet. It was an action so simple yet it had your heart bursting all the same.

Anakin turned around when he felt you weren’t next to him. “Where are you going, pop star?”

You sent Anakin a small smile before responding, “Sorry, I’m coming.” You began walking to him. The two of you exited the party and walked toward the landing bay, where your airspeeder was patiently waiting for you.

When you and Anakin got home, it was dark. The apartment lights were off. The only light that filtered through were the lights from Coruscant’s skyline. A delicate moonlight washed over the apartment, creating a serene and safe atmosphere.

You felt exhausted. The effects of the alcohol wore down on the way home, and you were mostly silent. Chinone left you a message stating she got home safely, so you had nothing to worry about.

You recalled tonight’s events as you rested your eyes. From the intimate moment with Anakin at the start of the party, your scathing feelings toward Cressida, to Chione telling you to forget Anakin, and then being caught with another male by Anakin. Your head was all over the place, and the fast pace of the airspeeder did not help. You would have a lot to think about in the morning. You just wanted to get home for now and drift into Lalaland.

The speeder came to a slow halt as Anakin lowered the vehicle onto your landing platform. He helped you out of the speeder and the two of you went inside your apartment. This night completely drained you and you wanted nothing more than to go to sleep.

Before retreating to your room, you wanted to say one more thing to Anakin.

“Anakin? I just wanted to give you my thanks—not only for coming to the party with me but for opening up and not letting me go home with Rigel. And for the heels,” you confessed

“It was no issue. That’s what my job is for—ensuring your comfort and protection for the time being.”

“Still…thank you. When you first came here, I was scared that it would bring trouble, but you’ve been nothing but helpful and kind. Your mother raised you well.”

In one final act, you leaned and placed a gentle kiss on Anakin’s cheek. You let your lips linger for a moment before separating. You would tell yourself it was the last remaining bits of alcohol in your system tomorrow, but you knew better than that. It was an intentional act you hoped could convey your feelings when you could verbally not.

i saw someone on tiktok say they saw jackson wang host a party in a harry potter fanfic and somelse commented they made jackson wang a senator in their star wars fanfic so i thought i would do the same...iykyk

taglist: @angie2274 @bunnylovesani @0709fullofstars @js-favnanadoongi @payton-dixonreader @attheairportbar @doplit

lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

#kendra's works !!!#anakin skywalker #anakin fanfiction #anakin x reader #anakin skywalkwer x reader #anakin skywalker x you #anakin x you #star wars fandom #star wars #star wars fanfiction #hayden christensen #tcw anakin #the clone wars #darth vader #darth vader x reader #darth vader x you

50 notes · View notes

onetimetwotimesthreetimess · 1 year ago

Note

Post COLS what if- the war never happened Malec didn't get back together and life goes on.. Maybe they stay friends Alec becomes the consul the work together a lot maybe friends with benefit maybe a lot of longing or jealousy or whatever your take of it I would love to read it!

Alexander Gideon Lightwood

The name hovers in the air, bright like the shining sun. Like an irrefutable fact that no one can change now.

His name.

Him.

The Consul.

Alec has everything today.

Or almost everything.

Jace and Clary wrap him in a hug as the room cheers up at the results. He’s never expected this—out of all the things he’d wanted to become as a kid, consul was never one of them because Alec never let himself dream that far.

Dreams aren’t for people like Alec. Especially after he lost his most important dream.

But regardless, Alec is ecstatic today because now he has so much power to change things.

So many laws he can change.

Alec has a list.

But the first person Alec wants to inform this about isn’t here. Alec wants to change that. He wants to create a world where no one gets left behind.

After an exhausting day of proceedings and greetings, he finally portals back home.

Home isn’t the institute anymore.

It’s not Magnus’s loft either.

Home is a small 2 bedroom apartment in Brooklyn that Alec moved into a few years back.

Alec, who never fully felt home at the New York institute found a home in a warlock’s sanctuary. And even if he doesn’t have access to that, he can never go back to the institute.

Out of all the things Alec learned from Magnus, this one stands to be the most important—that a home, should always, always be a sanctuary.

It should be safe.

As much as Alec loves the institute, it’s not a safe place for everyone and Alec wants his house to be a refugee for others. A place where anyone can come without fear. The world that Alec wants to create requires that.

When he reaches home, there’s a surprise party for him and while Alec is exhausted, he smiles at everyone around him. Alec, who never believed love could be so easy for him knows now, how much he’s loved.

“Alexander.”

Before he can even control it, his face changes into a smile and Alec turns to greet the man.

“Magnus, hi.”

“Hi, darling.”

“You came.”

“Of course, I came,” Magnus smiles at him. There’s an obnoxiously large hat on his head that say “Legalise Free Ice-Cream.”

“What’s this?” Alec laughs.

“I heard big news. This is my first formal request to the new Consul,” Magnus grins, pointing at his head.

Alec shakes his head fondly.

“I figured that you would be too busy from now on, so I decided now would be the time to get all the favours I can.”

His cheeks turn red as he blushes. “Shut up.”

There’s a few second of comfortable silence as Magnus peers at him.

“How does it feel?” He asks, finally.

Even after everything, Alec can never lie to Magnus. Neither does he want to.

“I don’t think it’s hit me yet,” he says honestly. “I’m the Consul.”

Magnus beams. “Of course you are. There is no one else I see more fitting for this role.”

“Thank you.”

“Your welcome.”

Alec shakes his head, “Not for the congratulations. But for everything. You made me better.”

“Alex—“

“You did. Just accept it.”

“Okay,” Magnus smiles sweetly at him, but Alec can see the blush.

They have a few drinks and Alec loses Magnus in the crowd a few times. And then he keeps on finding him again and again. Always gravitating together.

It’s a cruel, cruel twist of fate.

Years ago, Alec had believed that it would be impossible for them to be in the same room again. To be able to talk. To be friends but life proves him wrong once again.

They found each other again after the breakup.

Just in a different way.

Magnus is still the person that Alec loves the most in the world. Still, the very breath inside his chest.

They’re just not together anymore.

But Alec’s okay with it as long as he gets Magnus in his life.

“So, what’s your first order of business as the new chief in town?” Magnus jokes.

Alec frowns. “I’m not really sure. There’s a lot I want to do but I don’t know if I’ll be able to do that. Just because I’m the consul I can’t—“

“Breathe,” Magnus calms him down. “You have all the time. You’re like ten hours into your term, darling.”

“Hmm. There’s one thing that’s on my mind though,” he bites his lips. Not sure how many will react. Not wanting to see the reaction either.

“What?”

Alec inhales deeply. “I want to make marriages between shadowhunters and downworlders legal.”

He avoid Magnus’s gaze at that not because of what he’ll see on the warlock’s face but because of what Magnus might see on his.

Longing has become a part of Alec now. He’s okay with it. He doesn’t want Magnus to see, though.

They’ve long since walked around the boundary of being friends, Alec doesn’t want to shake that.

He still doesn’t know a lot about Magnus. The man has shared a lot in the past few years but there’s still a lot that Alec doesn’t know. Things that Magnus might never share with him.

“What?”

“Hmmmm. I’ve been thinking for a while. Remember Jian? I was thinking of what he said, how it feels when your love is prohibited by the world. Helen and Aline too—they’ve been together for years but the world doesn’t recognise that. I think people deserve that.”

He finally musters the courage to look at Magnus. There’s a dumbfounded expression on his face and something akin to pain. Alec’s not sure what to make of it.

“What do you think?” He hesitates.

“It’s uh—it’s a great idea. You’re a great idea,” Magnus speaks but then closes his eyes. “I meant, it’s a great idea, Alec. I’m just surprised is all.”

“Yeah. I don’t know how I’ll make it happen but yeah, it’s been on my…on my mind,” he swallows.

Alec imagines a wedding then.

He’s marrying Magnus in this imaginary wedding because there’s no one else for him.

He’s not sure about the location—they’d never reached the point in their relationship where they’d discuss potential locations.

So much, he doesn’t and will never know.

Even his imagination can’t comprehend a complete image.

“Well, twenty years from now, if you ever want to marry a shadowhunter and you can, please send me a thank you card for making that happen,” Alec jokes, then bites his lips instantly realising how much the even the idea hurt.

He really is an idiot, huh?

Magnus’s eyes turn sad before he speaks, “there’s never going to be another shadowhunter for me, Alec.”

And in another world, Alec might take that as proof that Alec is special. But Alec doesn’t feel that here so he speaks the first, unfiltered, idiotic thought he had. “One mistake was enough, I get it.”

“Alec, no,” Magnus’s voice is low and sad as he says the words.

Before they can dwell more on the words, Jace calls for Alec and he takes the opportunity to leave the conversation. “I’ll be back.”

#i couldn’t not make it sad huh??#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood

77 notes · View notes

foodsies4me · 7 months ago

Note

Chairman when he find out the Clave was being mean to his fav SH

This prompt and a discussion I had with @just-add-butter are to blame for this (Apollo-universe) ficlet. Does it work in the timeline? Possibly not. Do I care? Absolutely not!

Three times Chairman Meow almost revealed he wasn't just a housecat and the one time he didn't even try to keep up the act.

One - Magnus POV

Magnus internally rolls his eyes when Blondie opens his mouth to - unsurprisingly - repeat what Biscuit just said, only reworded in a way that's somehow even more insulting than Clarissa's had been. Magnus is almost impressed by it. Or he would be if he could muster up any kind of goodwill for the man. Still, for someone lauded as the best of his time, Jace is painfully predictable. At least in his actions and words if not his fighting. Or, Magnus hopes his fighting style isn't as predictable as everything else about him is - if only to spare Alexander the pain of losing his parabatai to his own stupidity. A small chirp draws his attention away from Jace and Clary's impassioned diatribe detailing why he should help them with their latest mess and toward Chairman Meow. His daemon is sitting on one of the tall beams, his body mostly hidden in the shadows as he looks at him with his bright green eyes. His tail swishes in annoyance, his eyes gliding over to the two shadowhunters only for a decidedly unfeline-like smirk to appear on his lips. Chairman Meow begins his act with a single meow. A soft mewl that is barely audible over Biscuit and Blondie's voices. The sound quickly turns into a wail though, his voice going up and down in the same cadence as Blondie's agitated speaking. Magnus suppresses an amused smile when Chairman Meow pushes the act yet another step further. The wail turns into a sonata when Chairman Meow starts to move around the beams, the sounds echoing around the room and starting to drown out Jace's voice. When Clarissa tries to say something he switches to a higher pitch, something closer to Clarissa's voice and Magnus is forced to hide a laugh behind a cough. "What the fuck's up with that cat!" Blondie grouches after another few minutes of Chairman's caterwauling, lasting a full minute longer than Magnus expected him to. Hearing that same sentence echoed around the room in Chairman Meow's familiar mewling growl is nearly his undoing. Magnus forces the laugh down with an easy smile and a few hasty promises that promise nothing before he's leading Blondie and Biscuit along with their daemons back out of Pandemonium before they realize what's happening. "I don't remember sassy being a trait common to household cats," Magnus teases when Chairman Meow lands on the ground to twine around his legs. "But that was an Oscar-worthy rendition, my little mouse." Chairman Meow gives him another smug grin, the magic under his skin crackling like fire before it disappears again leaving the innocent-looking tabby cat, with the innocent-sounding voice. "Meow."

Two - Max POV

Max doesn't like Mister Panghorn. He doesn't like him from the moment Panghorn arrives, because that's when Panghorn decides to snuff Alec in front of everyone and act like he's better just because he's a Clave Envoy. Minty doesn't like him either. Not even Aloysius and Sunny like him and they like everyone. So it's clearly Mister Panghorn's fault that Max doesn't like him and Max should be allowed to pull a prank on him without getting Alec in trouble. Except Max can't because Mister Panghorn is here with the other Clave Envoys for an "internal audit" to "ensure" Alec is "fit for leadership". "Maybe they should check if they're fit to have runes," Tony had snorted under his breath and while he did get scolded for it by Thornhill, they all gave him a high five for it after practice. Max doesn't like Panghorn. And he certainly doesn't trust Panghorn; None of them do. It's why they all keep an eye on him, why Aloysius keeps "accidentally" bumping into his side because nobody expects Ally to do that on purpose. Why Rara and Steph have had more questions in the past three days that only Alec can answer than they usually have in a week. And why Max has been biting on his tongue and clenching his fists to stop himself from pulling a prank on Panghorn because he deserves to be pranked. Max didn't realize they weren't the only ones keeping an eye on Panghorn. But then he hears Chairman Meow let out a low threatening hiss, his eyes annoyed and angry while glaring straight at Panghorn. He's pacing in the shadows, observing and calculating before his eyes brighten in a way Max is very, very familiar with. Chairman Meow is planning something. Planning a prank. Minty makes an excited noise that Max quickly shushes so nobody notices what they just did. Because that's when Chairman Meow jumps out of the shadows, his eyes still laser-focused on Panghorn. He weaves through the others in the Operation's Room and jumps on the rafts. The rafts where Woodowl and Hardwood are walking with buckets full of ichor-stained water in their hands. Max sees Hardwood place one of the buckets on the passageway, just long enough to dig into his pocket to grab his ringing phone. Just long enough to swipe the bucket and have the entire bucket fall on Panghorn and Panghorn alone. Panghorn can be funny, it appears. Because Max knows he's not the only one who starts laughing when he begins to splutter. "This is an institute Envoy Panghorn," Alec tells him bluntly. "Ichor stains are part of the job." Chairman Meow is purring happily when he jumps back down from the rafters and Max uses the giggling and Panghorn's screaming as a disguise to get faster to him. "Say Chairman," Max asks when the cat bumps his head against his hand to demand scratches. "Are you really a cat?" "Meow?" Max squints his eyes. "I also use that trick you know. It doesn't work on me. But it's okay, I won't tell anyone you're not really a cat."

Three - Catarina POV

Catarina breathes out a frustrated sigh the moment she's behind closed doors. The new pediatric surgeon has been working on her last nerve since he started working at the hospital three months ago. And if he weren't moderately good at his job, she would have filed a complaint already. Plav tweets his agreement from his hiding spot, his blue feathers shimmering when he spreads them mid-dive to land on her shoulder. The rest of the staff had stopped asking about her daemon after a week or two - a month at most. They all accepted her excuses at face value: Her daemon is shy. Her daemon prefers to stay outside and fly around while she's at the hospital. The explanations had sufficed for all but Steven Andrews, who somehow felt owed an introduction to Plav. As much as Catarina loves her job, she wishes it wouldn't come with people like Andrews the way it always seems to. A tingle of magic alerts her to Magnus' arrival and after another quick look at Plav, who turns himself invisible this time around rather than hiding away, Catarina heads over to the dressing room to change out of her scrubs. Of course, Andrews has to be leaving right as she prepares to leave with Magnus. "Nurse Loss," a deceptively pleasant-sounding voice interrupts Magnus' retelling of his and Alec's date the night before. "Oh, I apologize I hadn't noticed you were with a...friend." Magnus notices the particular inflection Andrews uses on the word "friend" as clearly as she does. Catarina wonders whether it's the lack of a daemon by his side - as far as the man can tell, at least -, the being Asian, or the hot-pink streaks in his hair that match his corset-vest. Most likely, it's all three of them. "I don't want to take up too much of your time, Nurse Loss, but would I be able to speak with you privately?" The request would sound more like one if he didn't follow it up with an outstretched arm and a tilt of his head. "I apologize, Doctor Andrews," Catarina says with a tight-lipped smile, "I'm afraid we have a reservation to get to." "It will only be a few short min-ouch Get, that thing off of me!" The yelp draws the attention of the others around them, all turning to see Steven Andrews with a snarling Chairman Meow in his face who just happened to fall out of the tree right then. Catarina has seen that particular trick often enough to not be fooled by it. "Let me help," Magnus cuts in, acting the perfect knight in corseted-armor with the matching innocence of a blushing virgin. "The poor thing fell out of the tree, here - oh that looks like it might need stitches," Magnus tells him apologetically as he innocently lets the "unknown" cat go again. "Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Andrews. But we really must go now." Seeing the bewildered look on Andrews's scratched-up face shouldn't be as satisfying as it is. Chairman Meow rejoins them as soon as they turn around the corner. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of small-minded, mundane men by myself, you're aware?" Catarina asks him with a pointed look. Chairman gives her his best impression of a guileless, mundane cat when he replies. His head tilted in faked confusion and his eyes wide with feigned innocence. "Meow?"

Plus One - Alec POV

Alec is half-asleep when the front door of the loft swings open and Izzy, Jace, and Clary burst in. "Magnus we need-what the fuck is that?!" Alec opens a bleary eye, wondering what managed to make Jace hit that particular frequency since he hit puberty, only to notice Jace glaring right at Chairman Meow. Or well, Chairman Meow in his slightly larer form. "Is something the matter, Blondie?" Magnus asks as he peeks out of his apothecary. "Need a pair of glasses perhaps, given you can't seem to recognize Chairman Meow." "Uh, Magnus that's not Chairman Meow," Izzy cuts in. Her hand hovers uncertainly by her side, the handle of her whip already in her palm as she keeps a weary eye on Chairman Meow. "Is Alec under there?!" "Wait what- Magnus" "And that's enough out of you three," Magnus warns as the room goes blissfully silent. "Alexander is sleeping as you all can see, so if you don't want to risk angering Chairman Meow by waking your brother from his nap, I'd suggest you keep your noise to a minimum. Now, what did you need?" Alec hears the moment Magnus lifts the muting spell and leads all three of them to his office to discuss whatever it is his siblings need. He hears them murmur among themselves, the sound quickly fading under Chairman Meow's waves and warm fur. Alec softly dozes back into his half-asleep state, buoyed by Chairman's purrs and his warm weight that covers him from head to toe when the door to Magnus' office opens again. He hears a long, thunderous growl when two pairs of footsteps step a bit too close to the couch, a clear threat that is followed by the smell of smoke and fire as Chairman Meow breathes out in their direction. "I believe that's your signal to leave before you risk waking Alexander," Magnus tells them pleasantly, ignoring Jace's startled yelp as he not so subtly kicks them out again. "You know you don't have to protect me from my siblings, right?" Alexander mumbles into the Chairman's fur, unsure which of the two he's speaking to. He doesn't care to figure it out either because Chairman Meow is warm and Magnus' fingers find their way into his hair to brush out the tangles. The last thing he hears is a deceptively, innocent-sounding chirp that Chairman shouldn't be able to do given his size. "Meow."

#Foodsies writes #foodsies rambles #just so we're clear #the slightly bigger size as Alec calls it #is bigger than him by at least a foot or two

26 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 1 year ago

Note

Hi again!

I've been so delighting in going back through some of your past answers this week and I loved rereading your daemon AU with BAMF Alec. I love all your Alec characterizations, but I have a particular fondness for your versions where it's really emphasized how cold and aloof Alec has to be in command sometimes. Alec allowing 'just a little nip' to Clary's otter was such an excellent visual.

If it happens to strike your fancy, I'd love another daemon AU, whether it be a continuation of that snippet or not. In particular I'd love to see Alec's daemon, his soul, walking up to Magnus and touching him, literally putting Alec's soul in Magnus' hands. (If there was a d/s undertone there, that would just be adding the cherry to the ice cream sundae, but is totally not necessary.)

Thank you again for all your lovely fills!

hey!! i always love your prompts and i'm happy i felt up to answering this one!

Magnus waits until the door clicks shut and then he turns to look at the shadowhunter who fought with him, back to back. He’s even more stunning after his display of both competence and the surprising compassion he showed.

“Will I be in the way? Or should I leave as well and we can pick a better time for a meeting?”

Magnus summons himself a drink and takes a long, fortifying sip of magically aged gin that will help his core to stabilize. Three warlocks lost is still three too many and his magic aches with a lust for vengeance that he cannot yet unleash.

“If you’ll follow me, I must leave this place and let it settle before I can return and let them rest properly. It needs to remain as undisturbed as possible.”

Alec — as he was called at one point — merely nods and silently follows as Magnus’ directs, his nearly eight-foot long alligator moving with surprising grace.

The shadowhunter and his daemon step through the portal without protest and Magnus turns to raise the wards he will need to let the dust of souls settle without fear of it being harvested.

Warlock rituals require time and Valentine desecrated that need, brutalizing the ash of warlock souls in experiments and well, Magnus will not allow that to ever happen on his watch.

He follows Alec as quickly as he can and it’s to find that his own daemon is already there, practically nose to nose with Alec’s.

“Cahya—” Magnus murmurs, more out of a surprise than a true reprimand.

There’s a moment where Alec turns and Magnus thinks that this is about to be business again, and then a large, reptilian head turns to face him as well.

Alec stops, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at his daemon and then he takes a half step back and shrugs. It’s clear that he trusts his daemon and Magnus is curious enough to keep quiet since Cahya seems content, almost amused.

Magnus isn’t expecting the daemon to continue approaching, past what is considered polite.

Daemons don’t do this. They don’t initiate contact.

Not ever and Magnus feels charges with the weight of potential that he cannot comprehend.

There’s a moment of charged silence and then a long snout is reaching up and brushing against his fingers.

Magnus can’t help the shocked gasp that slips past his lips.

The way his soul cries out and Magnus drops to his knees, hands unthinkingly reaching out to cup Alexander’s daemon.

Dust clings to his fingertips and energy fights for a brief moment and then, as Magnus exhales, Jayr is born anew.

He’s a melanistic jaguar, perfectly suited for the shadows and his muscles roll as he presses his head up against Magnus’ palm. Everything about him sings to Magnus as he feels the weight of a soul settle under his palms.

Soft, dark fur tickles his skin and whiskers brush past his wrist as a regal head ducks for comfort.

“Oh.” Alexander makes a surprised, almost frantic noise, his eyes bright, “he settled then.” There is something relieved in Alexander's tone and then he leans against the wall, as if awaiting Magnus' direction.

Magnus knows that he could bid Alexander to kneel, and his boy would do so. Alexander would do anything Magnus asked - his soul already conforming to meet Magnus - and Magnus knows it.

Magnus takes in quiet breathe and lets the knowledge anchor him.

That Alexander’s soul settled at Magnus’ touch has a great many connotations and Magnus won’t let anything sneak past him.

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec

112 notes · View notes

inkyclive · 1 year ago

Note

no but wait let me add. can you imagine being cid’s spoiled little brat at the hideout. like after he saved you, he always took a particular liking to you and it went to your stupid little head. he made you feel like his little princess, always showering you with attention and molding you into this devoted little thing to the point where you’re always ready to greet him on your knees in his office when he returns from a mission, head empty and eyes wide and bright for everything little command that falls from his lips.

and it’s almost funny bc like everyone else is so sick of you calling yourself his little wife. and maybe while you don’t explicitly say it you imply it so loud with your actions. especially when cid is away. it’s the way you put yourself in charge of maintaining his study and keeping his belonging fresh for his arrival. you’re always making sure everyone stays in line or else ‘cid won’t be happy when he gets back’. you 💯 call him daddy in some occasions and tarja is ready to strangle you. it doesn’t help that gav is just as delulu and follows you around like a little puppy.

and oh when cid here’s about this he just gets this smug little look. tells everyone he’ll deal with you before bringing you to his study. there he picks you apart, teasing you by calling you his little brat, his little wife who can’t keep his name out of your mouth. so he spends all night making you say it until your voice is hoarse 🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃🙃

clari you are single handling fueling my unhinged behavior for this ff series ( once again sorry for the spam pls tell me if it’s too much ~)

omg anon what a fucking DREAM

warnings: female reader, daddy kink, size kink, rough sex, extremely bratty reader, morally ambiguous cid, a lil bit of degradation words: 1.2k

okayokayokay so the thing(s) i’m writing for him (one is completely focused on him and pure filth like i mentioned, the other he’s a main character but he isn’t the focus) kiiiinda touches a similar idea because i just think cid would LOVE being with a brat. a playful brat; someone who provides a bit of a challenge without it feeling like any sort of tedious work, someone who keeps him on his toes and is FUN without truly acting out (those genuine tantrums seldom but fierce, only occurring when you don’t get something you desperately wanted, and that’s when he gets to go really Daddy on you, all strict and stern and steely eyes; but he can’t quite quell the self-satisfied little smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, threatening to shatter his entire act to bits).

i just feel like if you were his girl, you’d be spoiled fucking rotten, no matter how hard he tries not to. he just can’t say no to your pretty pout and your puppy dog eyes, and he LOVES the way you giggle and squeal his name or his title whenever he gives you something you want—it’s so goddamn precious and it makes him go all melty and starry-eyed for you <3 he’d treat you like such a little princess 97% of the time and i can totally see some people at the hideaway being a lil sour about it because you get special privileges, you don’t pull your weight, you’re protected by the boss and if anyone dares to say anything they will be respectfully but sternly told to cut it out. cid always has the perfect excuses, expertly crafted and readily on hand or in his back pocket, whipped out the moment anyone even attempts to criticize you for your lack of contribution and work.

if anything, gav loves you so much that he’s even worse, snapping at anyone who dares to say a single bad thing in your name, effectively earning him the title of your lovesick guard dog; so even when Daddy’s gone, and you get to play queen of the castle, they can’t say—or do—anything at all. it’s rare that you’ll leave your cid’s chambers alone when he isn’t around, gav glued to your side, ever-protective and watchful, ready to bark and bite at anyone who even looks at you wrong.

you really are cid’s precious little princess, they spit between themselves in hushed tones, with screwed up faces and soured tongues, making the word sound like an insult.

there are definitely moments where cid absolutely has to tell gav to tone it down or reign it in, because in gav’s eyes you can truly do no wrong, an angel among mere mortals, ready to bend over backwards, snap his fucking spine, to your every wish and whim and will.

and it isn’t like cid doesn’t understand the other inhabitants frustrations, doesn’t listen to their complaints and criticisms—it’s just that he really, honestly, genuinely can’t help but give you every single thing your sugary sweet heart desires. that doesn’t mean he won’t scold you for your behaviour, of course, when you’re bent over his desk and sobbing into the wood, when he’s balls fucking deep inside of you, head pressed snugly to your cervix, his voice a peculiar mix of fond condescension. his reprimands almost come out as coos, almost come out as praises, as if he’s proud, as if he finds it all so fucking cute, because as much as he wishes he didn’t, he enjoys this sick little game just as much as you do.

he calls you his spoiled little brat, his snobby little slut, his bratty little bitch as he pounds into you, thrusts so hard they send his heavy desk skidding across the floorboards, each ram of his hips shoving it another inch or so forward, wood scraping against wood.

he spits curses about how you’re so fucking pampered, how Daddy gives you too fucking much, is too fucking lenient with you, and now, what? you think you’re the boss all of a sudden? and oh, Daddy guesses he’ll just have to put you back in your place, remind you of who’s truly in charge, even though he knows his bad little girl will have slipped from her ‘proper place’ by morning time—an inevitable outcome, just like you always do, just like he always lets you, just like he always looks forward to.

and he’s so big, his cock is so big, it routinely rips you apart no matter how much you’ve been prepped, and he just loves watching you take it, either down your throat or in your cunt, stuffing your orifices fucking full of him, until you’re bulging and gorging on him, and then he fucks himself into you some more <3 by the end you’re oozing with him—his cum and his sweat and his spit, a whole mess of Daddy, a masterpiece.

and even though he knows he shouldn’t play favourites, knows it’s wrong and unfair and essentially goes against everything the hideaway is supposed to be, he just can’t help but get this rush of arrogant pride anytime you dote on him, just can’t help but mollify under your requests and demands, always dripping like syrup from the prettiest pout, smooth and sweet and slathered all over him. but everything you do is harmless anyway—it isn’t like you’re hurting anyone by being a brat, so what’s the big deal?

so what if you prance around in those silly, slutty lil milkmaid dresses he buys for you—the ones that are an inch or two too short to be considered decent, the edges of your fluffy petticoat just barely visible from beneath layers of linen, the lacy trim of the pretty panties he always gives you (after he ruins yet another pair) teasingly peeking out from under the fluffy frills when you bend over?

so what if you get a little bossy in the name of your Daddy, voice ringing with the slightest implicit threats—a saccharine lil warning sewn into your words, ghosts of my Daddy will...! haunting each sentence—when the other bearers don’t do what you want?

so what if you don’t exactly do anything, your job nothing more than to sit there and look pretty, Daddy’s perfect little trophy wife, ready to serve him whenever he needs it, wherever he wants it, however he wants it?

so what if your room sits empty and abandoned, reduced to nothing more than storage for the outrageous amount of dresses your Daddy gifts you, while you live it up and lounge around in his quarters?

what’s it all matter? it’s just a bit of innocuous fun, isn’t it?

any sparks of guilt are immediately snuffed out as he sinks into your cunt or rams down your throat at the end of each day, silenced by your gentle lips pressing soft kisses to his slit, or your cute tongue wrapping around his shaft, or your precious little gags and sobs and coughs as he spurts load after load of thick, hot cum down your throat.

because the way you look up at him, the way you admire him so much, makes him feel like king of the fucking world, your love and adoration rushing through his veins like a potent drug, endlessly reinvigorating him—and that, well, that makes it all worth it, sin and culpability and remorse instantly erased from his mind.

and oh, god help them all when he puts a fucking baby in you.

#cidolfus telamon x reader #cidolfus telamon x you #cidolfus telamon smut #losing my mind for this man lately i swear to god #inky.cid #inky.bb #clari gets mail #final fantasy #final fantasy xvi #final fantasy 16 #final fantasy smut #final fantasy xvi smut #ffxvi smut

84 notes · View notes