#i hope YOUR crops are bountiful

[skelekins]

#like if he cant palm my face like a mfing basketball then i dont want it

I feel you OP

to the ppl who write/draw ht sans b i g : i love u and thank u for ur service i hope all ur crops are bountiful this harvest

[lunarsilver]

What awaits you in 2025?

REMEMBER

I’m not a doctor, a psychiatrist, a therapist nor a psychologist. Divination will never replace meetings with them.

It’s a general reading, so not everything will resonate.

If you can’t choose between two piles, probably both of them have some messages for you. You can also not identify with any of them, and that’s okay, too.

Readings can help you make a decision, but they shouldn’t be the main reason for making it.

1 ~ 2 ~ 3

4 ~ 5 ~ 6

PILE 1

What will this year teach you? 

Strength

The Major Arcana shining on your 2025 is Strength. That’s my favorite Tarot card if I’m being honest so I may be biased lol. You’ll learn this year you have way more strength than you thought you have - especially the psychological and mental one. This card is both about your inner strength and the way you are able to influence others. You’ll learn how to channel this power.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Summer (expansion, growth) - Spring: Leaves (renewal, revival, progress) - Summer: Bird (freedom, opportunity) - Fall: Moon (phases, cycles, intuition)

Funny that for the winter season we’ve got a card called Summer, huh? The first three months of this year you’ll find new ways to grow and work on it. This trend will continue in spring, though you’ll correct the course a bit, maybe come back to something (a hobby or a dream?) and realize that hey, you actually still like it. Summer is the time of vacations, so it only makes sense you’ll feel more freedom in your wings. An opportunity may come to you. Fall will be a more reflective season. Noticing patterns, being after some time again in a similar situation or place, getting more in tune with your intuition. 

Main blessings for you this year 

Longevity (Chrysanthemum) - Productivity (Kent pumpkin) - Hope (Daffodil)

Longevity suggests good health and a lot of energy. For some it may be even about curing a serious illness or surviving a dangerous situation, but obviously I won’t throw such statements lightly. With how we’ve already talked about your growth and nice opportunities during this year, it’s no brainer that you’ll be really productive and have a hopeful attitude.

The main challenge of this year

Ring - Moon - Sun

Commitment to the deep desire of being happy.

Okay, pile one, looks like your main challenge is literally being consistent lol. Literally the only person that can sabotage your huge growth this year is you yourself.

How will you grow? 

8 of Wands R - Justice R - The High Priestess 

After some time of frustration and slowing down, you’ll take full accountability for your actions and take your fate in your own hands. Thanks to this, you’ll be more in tune with your intuition and get more at peace with yourself.

A piece of advice 

Third Quarter Moon - Disseminating Moon - New Moon in Cancer

“Adjustments are required”, “Take time to breathe out”, “You and your loved ones are safe”

Think about what needs small changes. You’ll probably think mostly about what adjustments you should make during spring, as we’ve talked about it, but there’s no reason why you couldn’t do it now. Just take a deep breath and relax a little, it’s gonna be okay, both with you and your close ones, no need to stress out so much.

PILE 2

What will this year teach you?

The Sun R

This Major Arcana came up in reverse, so it’s more about your inner world. During this year you’ll learn how to take care of your inner child, how to balance optimism with realism and how to have fun with your hobbies that you thought you had buried a long time ago.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Cup of Tea (patience, reassessment) - Spring: Autumn (bounty, balance) - Summer: Tend (maintenance, encouragement, guidance) - Fall: Oak Tree (power, courage, strength)

The last card fell out even before I finished asking my question. This year will start slower for you, just to harvest the crops near the end of it. This winter you’ll reconsider what’s the best for you right now, patiently making plans with your interest in mind and seeing the first result of it in spring. Continuous work on it during summer will lead you to feeling way more empowered by the end of 2025. 

Main blessings for you this year

Refinement (Dahlia) - Healing (Geranium) - Duality (Banana)

The last card showed up as I was shuffling, so I consider it the most important one. Balance keeps coming back in this reading. I think healing refers to healing your inner child, and refinement is about getting better at what you already have; progress.

The main challenge of this year

Coffin - Fox - Heart

The end of a selfish love.

It looks like you’ll get over some crush/ex, though it may refer to any kind of love. Moving on will be hard but necessary.

How will you grow?

The Tower R - Two of Cups - Queen of Pentacles

Despite the fear of change, a personal transformation will take place. This will lead to a joyful partnership (a relationship, perhaps) and you being this confident, earthly Queen of Pentacles: a person good at finances and comfortable in their body.

A piece of advice

Void-of-Course-Moon - New Moon in Capricorn - Third Quarter Moon

“Nothing will come of this situation”, “Your hard work is paying off”, “Adjustments are required”

The thing with the end of a relationship of some kind keeps coming back. Nothing will come of it, so time to move on. It’ll only benefit you, pile two! Correct your course a little and act because you’ll reap your rewards.

PILE 3

What will this year teach you?

The Lovers

2025 will teach you how to make right choices, how to be in harmony with yourself as well as with others. You’ll learn a lot about navigating relationships and getting closer to people.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Basil (prosperity, luck, love) - Spring: Seeds (new ideas, hope, open-mindedness) - Summer: Sow (planning, setting intentions, optimism) - Winter: Leaves (reneval, revival, progress)

Winter looks very happy for you - good luck both in money and in love. During spring, you’ll stay open-minded and find new ideas thanks to this. With them in mind, you’ll start making plans and work on them till the end of the year.

Main blessings for you this year

Tranquility (violet) - Clarity (carrot) - Grounding (potato)

A pretty calm, steady vibe. You’ll be able to stay at peace, gain a better perspective on certain matters and be down to earth. Stability and a more mature approach .

The main challenge of this year

Mice - Book - Heart

Misinformation about love.

There’s something you won’t know at first or get a false impression regarding some kind of love. Someone may not have your best interest at heart.

How will you grow?

The Tower R - The Sun R - Knave of Wands

Something is going to end, and this will lead to you withdrawing and thinking more about what you actually want and need. This period of introspection is needed because it will help you to become this Knave of Wands - someone fierce, fiery and passionate. 

A piece of advice

New Moon in Scorpio - New Moon in Pisces - Full Moon in Aquarius

“Work through your fears”, “Meditate and contemplate”, “Show the world the real you”

The cards encourage you to face what you’re running away from. Think, meditate, maybe pray. Everything you need to make it easier for you to show the world what you have to offer.

PILE 4

What will this year teach you?

The Moon

You’ll get way more in tune with your intuition, as well as learn how to deal with your fears. You’ll mature a lot emotionally. You’ll get better at “reading” people but also at understanding your own patterns.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Cup of Tea (patience, reassessment) - Spring: Salt (protection, banishing negativity) - Summer: Earth (peace, grounding) - Fall: Hearth (safety, comfort, spiritual connection)

This year looks to be more on a quieter side. It’ll start off a little lazily. You’ll observe and revalue some things, and decide to leave what doesn’t serve you anymore; cut yourself off from toxic people. Thanks to this, you’ll have a much more peaceful life. You’ll get more in tune with nature, as well as more spiritual. You’ll feel more comfortable thanks to this decision of leaving people and situations that cause you harm.

Main blessings for you this year

Happiness (Marjoram) - Continuance (Apple) - Clarity (Carrot)

This year will be joyful and peaceful. You’ll move on from doesn’t serve you and get a better perspective on what surrounds you.

The main challenge of this year

Book - Birds - Mice

Knowledge about dirty gossip.

The thing with some people you should get rid of because they don’t have your best interest at heart keeps popping up. 

How will you grow?

Queen of Pentacle R - The Fool R - Seven of Cups R

You’ll start putting yourself first more often. It will take some time, but at last you’ll get more financially independent and prioritize your personal values. 

A piece of advice

New Moon in Aquarius - Waning Moon - New Moon in Cancer

“Bring love into the situation”, “What do you need to release?”, “You and your loved ones are safe”

Forgive yourself if there is anything you keep blaming yourself about. Release what doesn’t serve you. Both you and people you love are safe so make more room for the ones who want good for you.

PILE 5

What will this year teach you?

The Hermit R

The main thing you’ll learn about this year is being alone - depending on your situation, either that you should reflect and meditate more, or that it’s time to finish your solitude and go out to people. Based on other cards, I think for most of you it’s the latter.

The main theme of each season for you

Winter: Broom (energy clearing, freshening) - Spring: Potion (invigoration, empowerment) - Summer: Moon (phases, cycles, intuition) - Fall: Bird (freedom, opportunity)

You’ll start this year with cleansing - both physical and more metaphorical/spiritual. You’ll be very energetic during spring, as well as more in tune with your personal power. You can do so much, and this season will show this! Later, you’ll learn to be more intuitive, you’ll notice some patterns that were hidden before. Something from your past may show up again. Maybe vacations to the place you always come to, or your old friends or love coming back into your life. Some nice opportunities will show up for you in fall.

Main blessings for you this year

Healing (Geranium) - Focus (Stock) - Luck (Lime)

You’ll heal some part of you that was hurt in the past. You’ll find out what you should focus on and actually commit to it. “May the luck be ever in your favor”.

The main challenge of this year

Dog - Man - Clover

A friendly man’s offer.

Now, that’s interesting and can go a few ways.I highly doubt that the man represents you. Your main challenge of the year is this person that will probably give you some kind of opportunity. With how the cards before were, I think it’ll most likely happen either during summer or fall, so the second part of the year. The guy is a kind and loyal one, so don’t worry, the offer, while challenging, will be a good thing.

How will you grow?

Knave of Pentacles - Five of Wands - Queen of Pentacles

I think it’s lovely how you’ll grow from the Knave of Pentacles into the Queen of Pentacles. You’re starting as someone great already, and then become even better lol. You’re hardworking and productive. A challenge will show up, a conflict or disagreement between you and a few people. Probably a rivalry at work. You’ll emerge victorious and stronger than before: a royal who knows their worth and how to deal with earthly matters.

A piece of advice

New Moon in Taurus - Waxing Moon - New Moon in Aries

“Prosperity lies ahead”, “The energy is gaining momentum”, “It’s time to take action”

All the cards talk basically about the same thing: it’s your time. I think it’s about your career or your school. You have strong cards so time to play.

PILE 6

What will this year teach you?

The Empress

Regardless of your gender, you’ll learn the power that lies within femininity. Who said someone nurturing and empathetic isn’t strong? There are also lessons about utilizing creativity and discovering what makes you beautiful, as well as understanding better your sensual side. For some, this year may also teach you a lot about motherhood.

The main theme of each season for you 

Winter: Oak Tree (power, courage, strength) - Spring: Sage (wisdom, purification, harmony) - Summer: Pine Tree (vitality, longevity, perseverance) - Fall: Summer (expansion, growth)

You’ll start your year strong and then only continue at getting more knowledgeable and in tune with your needs and inner self. You’ll secure what’s important for you and grow even more. Looks like an intense and rewarding year, happy for you! 

Main blessings for you this year

Healing (Geranium) - Success (Peppermint) - Divination (Chives)

Yeah, we get further confirmation this year will be focused on you growing and learning how to nurture yourself. There will be work put into healing the part of you you’ve rejected and a lot of different kinds of successes. The Divination card is interesting. I think it means you’ll learn more about this topic (especially if you practice or think about practicing divination). Maybe you’ll have a spiritual awakening. For some, it’s simply about divination helping you navigate your journey.

The main challenge of this year

Heart - Garden - Moon

A loving community’s desires and expectations.

Social fear is your main challenge for this year. You’re scared of people’s judgement. But worry not, because there is a loving community for you out there, and they’ll love you the way you are. 

How will you grow?

Three of Cups R - The Devil R - Three of Pentacles

You’ll release limiting beliefs and limit contact with people who don’t have your best interest at heart. If you’re lonely, it’ll come to an end. There are people out there with whom you’ll communicate easily and work as a team. You’ll learn a lot from each other and probably do something creative together.

A piece of advice 

Full Moon in Capricorn - Full Moon in Taurus - New Moon in Scorpio

“The end of a tough cycle approaches”, “Your dreams need a practical plan”, “Work through your fears”

Yeah, it looks like it’s been kinda hard for you recently, huh? Well, this is coming to an end. Time to plan your next actions and face your worries. Time to deal with them, you can’t run away from them.

[genericpuff]

I find something that annoys me is how people misunderstand why Persephone is considered the goddess of spring.

It’s because Demeter makes it spring when she returns. Not because Persephone has some awesome sick flower powers and she makes it all pretty before returning to her 10000/10 husband.

Agreed! But also, if I can offer up my own food for thought / interpretation: Demeter didn't necessarily create 'winter' as we traditionally perceive it, rather she created famine.

In that same sense, Demeter isn't even necessarily "making it Spring" when Persephone returns - she makes the land fertile again, allowing mortals to harvest their crops and thrive. Thus creating the "seasons" of harvest and drought.

Like many of the myths we've preserved and still read today, The Hymn to Demeter was a story created to explain natural phenomena that we didn't yet know how to explain. In Demeter's case, the story of her separation from her daughter explained the cycle of nature - why the clouds would no longer rain, why the ground would dry and crack, why the soil would become brittle, and why the crops would lose their will to live. It wasn't necessarily because she brought about 'winter', it was simply that she stopped performing her own duties, which were specifically dedicated to the harvest, especially that of wheat and grains (both of which are INCREDIBLY important foods that played their own massive role in the evolution of the human race - they weren't only essential to keeping both humans and livestock fed with their carb-heavy components, but could also be used to make fabrics and tools.)

Just as people prayed to Poseidon for safe travels across still waters, so too would people pray to Demeter for a bountiful harvest. Whenever there were droughts, you could understand it as the period when Persephone would return to the Underworld; or you could even blame it on yourself, or even your own fellow mortals, if you felt that perhaps Demeter had been disrespected in some way so as to bring about a drought as punishment.

This is why The Hymn to Demeter also functions as a foundational story for the founding of The Eleusinian Mysteries - a cult that worshipped Demeter, and other deities attributed to the harvest (ex. Dionysus) whose initiates were sworn to secrecy, never to speak aloud what practices were happening within the cult. And they did a damn good job of it too, because to this day we still don't fully know what went down in those cults. They're mysteries, after all :')

Demeter wasn't the only god who was attributed to the harvest and the weather patterns that would cause drought, but she's certainly one of the most popularly discussed, undoubtedly due to the fact that her story is one of the oldest and most well-preserved, and she was attributed to some of the most essential crops of that era.

But as it would happen to many myths over the centuries, the exact cultural contexts and intentions behind her original story have become either lost, or re-interpreted so many times that we can't even fully trust that Homer's version is "accurate", at least not without any way to retrieve those original oral stories that predated both him and other famous poets whose work we still study and analyze today.

But hey, that's just my own interpretation! One out of the thousands that have existed and the thousands that will undoubtedly go on to exist. I'm sure my own interpretation of it isn't perfect or foolproof, but I hope it offers up some fun food for thought!

[joffyworld]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

“Tell me, Godly one, do you crave more?”

[z00oo1]

Collin and Penelope Fics

We Can't Be Friends by LovelyMagnolia

Penelope and Colin are two people who have never quite managed to get their timing right, but maybe all they need is one night to fix that. Modern AU

Yellow Dress by CassandraGoth

She wants only to secure a marriage that will allow her the freedom she needs to escape from under her mother's thumb and continue writing. But the unexpected return of a traveling gentleman and a sizeable bounty placed by the Queen to unmask a troublesome author.

A Wallflower's Bloom by Enganda

"Are you mad? I would never dream of courting Penelope Featherington." Brokenhearted from the words she heard from her childhood love, Penelope Featherington had decided to change her ways and prove herself worthy of being loved.

A Pound To A Penelope by FirstLadyJane

After having spent the off-season licking her wounds, Penelope comes back to Mayfair a pragmatic woman determined to take control of her fate. She's on a mission to cement her spinsterhood and accept a standing job offer in Ireland.

The Great Stage of Fools by lottielots11

Penelope is finally engaged to the man she has loved for most of her life, and she could not be happier if it wasn't for the secret which hangs over them. And with Colin's reluctance to even discuss Whistledown, how will they ever overcome their differences in order to marry?

Scattered Flowers by Cortlandia33

After her fallout with Eloise and hearing Colin's declaration to never marry her in front of the entire Ton, Penelope left high society and found a cottage in the country. Now, almost three years later, her choice comes back to haunt her when a certain someone begs for her forgiveness... and her heart.

the last one in your corner by my_middle_name_is_awkward

Penelope cannot agree to marry Colin because she knows Eloise will not approve

Kintsugi by Metamorphases

Watch as Colin Bridgerton goes to increasingly mad lengths to keep Penelope Featherington safe and sound (and away from other suitors).

Dark is the world's night without you my love by angellus08

Penelope meets someone from Colin's past and her old insecurities crop up.

Affection by lixabiz

Colin returns to London for the Season of 1815, hoping to reconnect with his friend Penelope - only to discover that everything has changed between them.

Attachment by lixabiz

(Set post S2. Some elements from the S3 synopsis, but not a prediction fic.)

Butterfly's Reverie by CassandraGoth

What might have changed had Penelope told Colin privately that her cousin Marina Thompson was with child? Not an easy scandal from which to untangle himself without the public protection of Lady Whistledown’s society papers.

Foolish One by LeighAnne_Balsdon

Colin announces his engagement to Marina and Penelope doesn't take it very well. She makes a hasty decision to run away from Mayfair, to save her broken heart. When Colin and Eloise find out that Penelope is missing they decide to look for her themselves. What they find, however, is something no one was expecting.

One of us has got to change by itsjustabee

Colin and Penelope accidentally wear matching outfits to the Bridgerton ball

My Give a Fucks are On Vacation by SuzyH_82

It’s just a pity that for the last three years, she’s also been Colin’s ‘friends with benefits’ friend. I mean, it’s not like Colin could ever want a relationship…technically he already has a very public girlfriend…his fellow presenter Marina, on his travel log TV show. However, after their latest hook-up, Penelope overhears Colin talking to the press and realizes Colin is never going to see her as anything more than a friend and she finally decides to move on with her life.

i chose this cyclone with you (my heart exploding) by Vryalys

Well perchance it is I who do not wish to marry you any longer,” she hissed furiously at him, her eyes prickling as she moved away from him to the farthest end of the coach bench. She pulled at his mother’s ring from her finger, where she was sure it no longer belonged. “I will not marry a man who loathes to even look at me.”

The Disappearance of Penelope Featherington by hippiechick7897

Penelope Featherington leaves the many scandals of her life behind to start anew while Colin desperately searches to find her and bring her back home. When they are reunited, Colin finds a threat he had not anticipated and wonders if he's too late to secure the affections of the woman he's just realized is his love.

Violet's Fifth Daughter by kermitthefrogstanaccount

Penelope faints at her and Colin’s engagement dinner and Violet gives a piece of her mind to Eloise about continuing to love Penelope after everything that’s happened.

Ruin by Sea_Dragonfly

Colin wouldn't remember the details of what his mother told him next. He would remember her hand warm on his knee, her eyes wide with concern, her voice gentle as velvet. All of it in stark contrast to the devastating news she shared. Penelope was ruined.

Dishonest Conquest by lilyeval

Colin is such a gracious helper, he ruins Penelope’s every opportunity with her suitors. So protective of her honor, he even lets himself into her very private bedroom.

Just Having Fun by Spartangal22

When Eloise arrives home from Scotland, the very first place she goes is to see her best friend and brother in their home. And since they’re family, the rules of social etiquette need hardly apply. Why should she bother knocking?

her mother's daughter by secretlydelighted

the story where Lord Debling's son is courting Agatha Bridgerton and Colin is not having it, because why is another vegetarian all up in his business?

Meet Me at Midnight by Sevens11073003

Or eight times Penelope runs into a Bridgerton on the way to Colin’s room + the one time she runs into Colin on the way to bed.

have my back, yeah, every day by my_middle_name_is_awkward

Colin had very little patience for Cressida Cowper before he and Penelope were engaged. Now, he must make it clear that he will not tolerate her comments about his soon-to-be wife.

Unreliable Narrator by WhiskeyTinCup

Eloise has a lifelong habit of overreacting to Penelope's love life and everyone knows it, even if she refuses to acknowledge it.

I Do Not Want To Stand By Your Side by magentaverse

She didn’t need a love declaration. She certainly didn’t need him to sign his life to her. She just needed his love. A few smiles and his willing ear. But Colin Bridgerton did what he did best—he changed the course of her life the moment he muttered, "I do not want to stand by your side, Penelope Featherington."

Best Laid Plans meet MissCarriage by sanoiro

Or The unconventional birthing place of - the fated to be Adventurous - Miss Agatha Bridgerton...

Why do fools fall in love by NomDeJeen

Now that they are married, Colin wants Penelope to *win* the heir race with her sisters.

Benedict offers some unexpected advice.

It goes about how you would expect.

of manmade tales & honest lies by cchampdelevande

just saw someone asking "what if penelope finds out she's pregnant right after the lady whistledown fight with colin" and i genuinely think shonda is not above torturing us like that

Newton vs The Bridgerton Men by Lovelymagnolia

In which, Newton figures out Penelope's pregnant before she does, Colin develops beef with a dog, and a longstanding battle between Newton and all the Bridgerton men is unearthed.

Cracks by Vellinae

It’s a winter of firsts for everyone. It’s Colin and Penelope’s first winter as a married couple. It’s Penelope’s first time putting on ice skates and venturing onto the frozen lake with the entire Bridgerton family. It’s Colin’s first time watching the ice crack, just barely out of reach, and seeing his wife disappear into the murky water below.

At Least It Wasn't A Duel by SugMak

When Penelope sends Colin out of the house so she can focus on his journals, he hears Fife and the Toxic Lord crew talking about Penelope's breasts. He doesn't take it well. He's not particularly looking forward to her finding out about it.

Tintiddle Talks by goddammitfandom

Anthony ruins a wonderful family picnic by bringing up Colin's past indiscretions. He gets answers that somehow make him even angrier.

Tried to Pick My Battles 'Til the Battle Picked Me by headphonesbaby

Colin always seems to find an issue with Pen's boyfriends

I Wish You Knew by threefundamentaltruths

 which Colin and Penelope ran away together to escape the queen's wrath.

Visiting A Farm by ancoraimparo_youknowwho

Eloise is back from Scotland and eager to meet Her bestie. But things start on a very wrong note because who the hell does THAT to their wife??!!! Right??

uh-oh i'm fallin' in love (oh no) by stolemystarl17

Colin didn't stop the proposal at the Queen's Ball, but he can stop the banns.

grieving for the living by itwasglorious

Penelope marries Lord Debling and Colin cannot watch. So Colin leaves and Penelope settles into married life. A year later he returns.

Stand By Me by Musicalmidget

Penelope has been keeping another secret from Colin but upon see his family together at Francesca's wedding, she decides it's time to tell him and her plan for Lady Whistledown. This is a continuation of the scene from the study and will continue until the epilogue.

An Honorary Bridgerton by My_middle_name_is_awkward

The Bridgertons have always loved Penelope Featherington as if she was one of them.

Of course, they are all ecstatic that Colin will be making her an official Bridgerton, instead of just one of honorary status.

Scraped up off the pavement by missparker

After Penelope falls out with Eloise over her popular gossip blog, all the Bridgertons cut contact with her. Penelope moves to Scotland and buys a book shop and gets on with her life.

That is, until she spots Colin Bridgerton at the coffee shop next door.

Catch & Release by TonyStarksAngstyHeart

Everyone develops a tiny crush on Penelope as they wait, betting of course, for Colin to pull his head out of his arse.

Spanning 1803-1821

P-E-To-The-T-T-Y by jerrymander

Colin may be coming to terms with Penelope’s family but that does not mean he has forgiven them for their slights against Penelope.

Plenitude by HaveredSolitude

Colin and Penelope are faced with difficult decisions when complications arise during the birth of their baby. With the help of their family, they navigate through memories and feelings, confronting adversity with the strength of their bond.

Ran out room so here the link to part 2

[yanmuffins]

Glad you getting better muffin! I just wanted to ask if you could show the style of clothes that teen!vampire!reader wore and when she become adult after and before the biting thing please?

context &. context.

anon i love you. i hope your crops are watered and your harvest is bountiful. i'm really excited that i get to talk about this!! disclaimer: i know a lot of people aren't too keen on inserts being too characterized or specific, but i hope everyone will enjoy her fashion style! i promise it's relevant and i had a lot of fun with it.

so. where do i even begin with this post?

it all begins, of course, with vampire! reader's coming to the wayne manor as a child and the circumnsances behind it. that was a huge shift in her life. she was very little when it happened, long before damian could even dream of being concieved. media was going insane over this bastard wayne child that appeared out of nowhere, hoping to catch a glimpse of her to stamp on next day's newspaper and magazines. and as guarded as she was from the public eye, public appearances were inevitable, even if they were minimal at the time. so it was very important for her to dress and behave very proper and put-together.

but damage control wasn't the only, or even the biggest reason she was dressed like that. we have already established vampire! reader's fashion sense was greatly influenced by alfred, yes (and it still kind of is) — but also the new (fancy, upper-class) environment she found herself in. alfred mostly dressed her in whatever he thought was fitting for a wayne child, and although his choices might have been a bit outdated, no words of complaint were uttered. little vampire! reader's outfits were the least of bruce's problems at the time.

but all in all, it was alfred wanting to welcome her into the family and make her legitimate, providing the best of the best, donning her in the best fabrics from the best seamstresses and the best boutiques. he would show her old pictures of her grandmother, martha wayne, how she dressed, would show her the jewelry that were her heirlooms, and let her take a look at martha's old clothes that she could use once she was old enough, if she so desired.

now reader's fashion choices walk hand in hand with her upbringing, with the education she recieved. she takes being a "proper wayne lady" very seriously. it was a choice of mine to only have vampire! reader wear darker, more somber colors. it overall fits thr wayne/gotham aesthetic as well as emphasizes her upbriging, her blending in to the point of not being noticed. darker colors are also heavily associated with vampires, so there's that too!

onto the outfits. now, teen! vampire! reader is a bit more laid-back and experimental than her child self. but... not really. she begins to coordinate her own outfits without alfred's help, but his influence is far too ingrained in her brain for her to truly distance herself from it. she has certain luxury brands she will and will not buy from, seamstresses she contacts when she wants a piece custom-made.

the excessive formality of her childhood outfits dwindles, but doesn't completely disappear. it gives place to looser silhouettes, a pop of a brighter, non-muted color here and there, a shorter (gasp!) skirt if she's feeling daring, cashmere cardigans and (gasp!) a pair of sneakers here and there. she will go for more formal outfits here and there, but they have a certain joviality to them. the mary-jane shoes are still there, and so are the ballet flats, but now they're joined by loafers and oxfords. of course we have the fancier, tailored fits, with the tweed jackets and such, but they're mostly reserved for fitting occasions. heavy on the usage of long black/grey skirts, usage of pants or shorter bottoms pretty much non-existent.

this is somehwere around the time she convinces bruce to ditch the homeschooling and let her attend high school.

now, as vampire! reader reaches adulthood, the laid-backness of her outfits take a backseat. she leans onto more mature options, martha wayne and alfred's influence back with more force as she adds plenty of her grandmother's belongings into her own wardrobe. with some adjustments, that iconic black dress martha wayne wore to that charity ball fits bruce wayne's daughter like a glove at yet another charity event at the manor. and so many 50's-inspired outfits. her skirts are long, pleated or circle/swing for a more voluminous look with the help of some peticoats. full of neat gathers. usually plain dark or grey in color, but sometimes there's a plaid or a pied-de-poule to add a bit of fun to the outfit.

and that's when she starts wearing martha wayne's jewelry, too, so vampire! reader is getting fancy old money points not just for wearing expensive designer items like they cost $99 cents, but also because a lot of her wardrobe has extremely valuable, genuine vintage pieces that she inherited from a family member.

(can you tell i'm having fun leaning into the nepo-baby aspect of this? because i am. this reader is emotionally neglected but broke she is not.)

here you don't really have the loose sillhouette anymore. there's a lot of things reminiscent of her teenage phase, but now we have puffy skirts with a snatched waist — but nothing too form-fitting, either! no such thing as pencil skirts in her wardrobe, elegant as they may be. sometimes you might get an off-shoulder moment, but that's about it. we have a lot of fur (from martha's wardrobe), wool, velvet, etc.

(most of these are for fancier occasions!!)

but although she wears a lot of vintage or vintage-inspired outfits, there are fits that very much modern. get this: vampire! reader wears pants. jeans, mostly, and not very often, now that she's gone to college, but still. ironically, the sneakers are pretty much out, with designer slingback heels taking their place. designer heels, in general. lots of bags.

vampire! reader also... kinda flirts with the color red here and there, before being turned into a vampire. just a little pop of red here and there, maybe it's a more daring choice of dress she wore. just eyeing the color red sheepishly one time or another. hehe.

and, of course, her style of dressing is very much related to her upbringing. shaped by it, actually. she does enjoy the way she dresses, but i do think it portrays well the overly-posh, demure and modest image she maintains even uncounciously. always safe and never daring (as in she will stick with the outfits she deems proper/appropriate and will not deviate from them, at least not too much), always aiming to honor the family name.

but! onto the more modern outfits that i put together myself:

these are outfits vampire! reader wears on a daily basis! at this point she goes out a bit more often, to go to class, go shopping, a stop by a nice restaurant for lunch…

now here's some more references that i found on pinterest:

now you must be asking yourself: what about haute couture? does vampire! reader purchase those gorgeous, straight-out-of-a-dream dresses? and the answer is no. not often, at least. again, she keeps a very muted, elegant, somber style with no room for sequins, rhinestones, intricate or unconventional designs, anything too flashy in general. in those occasions she’s invited to fashion weeks she might stare at some of them longingly, desperate to find a plain enough dress she can wear to one of those few public appearances in she’s allowed to make. this is all before vampire! reader... well, being turned into a vampire. but i will say that the changes start some time before her transformation. her gradual changes and ultimate style as a vampire are still a work in progress, i'll admit. but.

dresses get more fitted, at first. the necklines get lower. skirts get a tiny bit shorter. the outfits more playful, more risqué, more assymetrical. there are corsets, deep red and green velvet, delicate laces, sleeveless tops with no white blouse underneath. it's cunty, that's all. and honestly? this is once again vampire! reader being influenced, this time by her sire, as she goes out with them into the night. the confidence isn't really there, lots of outfits she hasn't really picked and isn’t comfortable wearing.

(jason, duke and damian are first to notice it, and it makes a few alarms go off in their heads.)

i have some references and inspo, lots of them from 90's and early 2000's fits. she’ll lean more into haute couture then.

but i’m still deciding on vampire! reader’s style once she gets turned. this is the overall gist of it, though. a femme fatale kinda vibe — sexier, cuntier and absolutely powerful once that confidence kicks in and she starts wearing what she wants.

so that’s it for now I guess?? thank you for the ask anon, this was super fun!! ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡と

[lou-struck]

Strawberry Baskets

Tanjiro Kamado x reader

~ When it comes to finding the ripest strawberries in the patch, Tanjiro has an unfair advantage. 

WC: 2k

~This is one of the requested prompts for my Summertime Fun Event. Feel free to check it out. 

There is nothing quite like spending a warm summer's evening on your back porch. A hummingbird flits about your garden, sucking nectar from the buds on your hanging baskets. Its sleek, jewel-colored feathers glint in the slowly setting sunlight as you admire its hovering form. 

When it drinks its fill of nature's bounty, it flies away, leaving you alone once again. 

You return to the book in your lap as you take a small sip from your glass of cold, fruit infused water as you wait for Tanjiro to return home from the village. Although there hasn't been a demon attack in years, the soon-to-be-setting sun makes you feel quite uneasy, and you hope he hurries along. 

Twenty minutes later, your keen ears pick up the slight sound of crushing pebbles on the path leading up to your little cottage. Tanjiro's shadow appears over the ridge until finally, you see the rest of him. He looks a bit tired from a long day of work and his hair is a bit tousled from the summer wind, but it does nothing to diminish his captivatingly bright smile.

You place your arms on either side of your chair to stand, but he stops you. "Stay there, I'll be up there soon."

He does a casual little jog up to the porch and stands over you with a smile. "There, you just looked so comfortable. I didn't want you to have to get up because of me."

"You're sweet," you say as he leans down, his arms on either side of you, caging you in as you get lost in his presence. His warm breath makes your lips tingle as he presses his lips to yours. At times like this, when he has left you far too long he tries to make it up to you with his tender affection.  

His dark red eyes glimmer like fine gemstones when he pulls away, but you notice something else written on his face. Your honest man seems to be buzzing with excitement, just waiting for you to ask him what is on his mind. 

"You look happy, Love; what are you thinking about?"

His grin goes from ear to ear; he loves that you know him so well. He is terrible at hiding even the smallest things from you; just the thought of deception turns him into a steaming kettle, seconds away from bubbling over under the heat of a secret. "You know me so well, y/n; I never could hide anything from you, even if I wanted to. What are you doing tomorrow?"

You tilt your head to the side and furrow your brow, thinking about your schedule. "Nothing really, why?"

"That's wonderful," he beams with the enthusiasm of one who had just won the lottery, "The reason I asked was that when I was in town earlier, I met an old man who needed help carrying his groceries back to his home."

"And you went with him?" you ask worriedly. You know that he is strong, almost inhuman, so he had to be to survive everything he has gone through. But anything can happen, and most of the monsters in this world are not demons but human beings twisted by sin. "Tanjiro, not everyone has your goodness."

"I know, Love, but I felt like I could trust him," he smiles gently, "and in this case, he ended up helping me more than I helped him. It turns out he lives on a small farm just outside of the village. He is actually going out of town to visit his children tomorrow and said that we are welcome to the last of his strawberry patch.

"He has Strawberries?" your eyes widen at the mention of the sweet berry, and you completely forget your earlier lesson about stranger danger. 

He laughs; that's what he told me, a whole patch of them. It was extremely generous of him to offer; at first, I felt guilty about taking some of his crops, but he told me that the berries would go to waste if we didn't pick them. "

"Well, if it's for the greater good, then I'm happy to help him." You say sarcastically. In your mind, however, you are wondering what kind of strawberry treats you can make with the harvest.

"I'm glad to hear it. Are you all right with leaving in the morning?"

You nod and he passes you to go inside to set his stuff down. A faint smile looms on your lips as you turn your attention back to your book. These simple moments in life make the hard parts more than worth it.

~

The morning sun is low in the sky as you and Tanjiro make your way down a little dirt road. There is a slight chill in the air that makes you shudder and lean in closer to him for warmth. You grip his arm with both of yours and peer over at the empty harvest baskets he insisted on carrying for you.

"I believe we're getting close to the farm, y/n. Are you sure you don't want my Haiori to keep you warm?" he asks, offering the very clothes off his back for the fourth time in ten minutes. 

"I'll be alright," you say, once again, declining his offer. It may be chilly now, but that rising sun will warm up the air soon, and you'll find yourself complaining about the extreme temperature.

You see a small farm just around the bend; the sprawling fields and demure farmhouse make this place look straight out of a painting. 

With your hand firmly in his, Tanjiro steps up to the wooden porch and raps politely on the faded oak door. Your ears detect the faint sound of approaching footsteps until the knob twists and the door opens to reveal the dapper-looking old man you have ever seen. His eyes twinkle beneath his grey Panama hat, and his face is shaped by prominent laugh lines. Clearly, this is a man whose life has been full of joy. 

"Ahh, Tanjiro, you came." he smiles, stepping out onto the porch in a light grey little suit with a cluster of baby's breath pinned to his lapel. "Did you two have any trouble finding the place?"

"Not at all. You have such a lovely farm, Mr. Honda," Tanjiro compliments; there is a dons expression on his face as he looks at the man, no doubt coming to the same conclusion as you.  "Is it really okay that we pick your strawberries?"

"Of course. If you don't take them, then I'm afraid they will just go to waste. It's the end of the season, so there won't be too many left, but I wanted to thank you for your help yesterday," he smiles, grabbing the handle of a well-cared-for leather suitcase. 

"That is very generous of you," you say, eyeing his luggage. "Are you going on a vacation?"

The man's smile grows impossibly large as he nods. "Of a sort. My daughter just gave birth to twins, and I am ready to go meet my grandchildren and spoil them the way a PeePaw should. That's why I needed a bit more help getting home; you see, I went a bit overboard buying them and my daughter's presents."

"Congrats, that is wonderful," Your heart melts at his sincerity; you know that those grandkids of his will be lucky to have such a kind and caring grandfather doting on them. 

As happy as he is to have visitors. However, you know that he cannot entertain you for much longer; with a quick look at his watch, his eyes widen, and he reaches for a few more parcels at his front door. "Oh my. I Best be off to the train station now. The strawberry patch is just to the left of the rice paddy. Happy Picking, you two."

He lifts the mountain of gifts and his little suitcase with Herculean strength and scurries off down the road with a jumbled little wave. 

The two of you wave back and watch as the kind old man disappears down the dirt road. 

"What a nice man. I hope he makes it to the station in time," Tanjiro comments now that the two of you are alone, "Shall we start picking the berries before it gets too hot?" 

He extends his hand, and you walk through the farm, passing a large duck pond and what looks to be a well-protected cabbage patch before you get to a field full of strawberry plants. The lush green leaves seem to crawl along on the dirt for as far as the eye can see. Your steps are careful as you make your way down the cracked dirt path so you do not step on any vines down to his strawberry patch. 

"Wow, this is quite the impressive field," Tanjiro praises, glancing over at you; the midmorning sun brings out the richness in his reddish brown hair. "Mr. Honda must be a hard worker, I cant see any weeds at all. 

"Then the berries must be extra tasty," you agree. "What should we make with them? Shortcake? Mochi? Dorayaki?"

Instead of answering, Tanjiro's stomach beats him to it; it growls loudly. His cheeks turned a flushed pink color as he embarrassedly rubbed the back of his neck. "sorry about that; just thinking about all of those treats is making me hungry. Maybe if we find a lot of strawberries, we could bring some to Tomioka, Mr. Uzui, and the others."

"That would be fun," you smile, excited to have an excuse to see everybody. You can continue to walk down the path, looking out for any glimpses of strawberries, but all you see is green. Crouching down, you gently rush past the strawberry leaves to get a closer look, but it appears that the plants are without berries.

Still, on an awkward couch, you moved down the line, unable to find anything. Do you know it's late in the season, but the fact that you haven't seen any sign of fruit is a little concerning.

"What's wrong?" Tanjiro asks, making you aware of the frown that has formed on your face. "Love?"

"It's nothing, I'm just having trouble finding any strawberries. Have you found any?" You ask, hopefully. Tanjiro is searching in the row across from yours, and his basket is just as empty as yours. 

"Not yet," he says with unwavering determination. "But we only just started searching."

"I guess you're right, but do you think it's possible Mr. Honda was confused?"

"I suppose it's possible," he murmurs, placing his hand on his chin in thought, "But I swear I can smell strawberries."

Of course, you can… You forget about your fiancé's superhuman sense of smell.

You watch as he closes his eyes and, walks calmly through the field and searches for a smell that your nose simply cannot pick up. If it was anyone else, you would be doubtful about whether or not he can actually smell fresh strawberries, but if anyone can, it's Tanjiro.

He walks like a man on a mission and doesn't stop until he is several meters away from you in a different row of plants entirely. He crutches down, and you can see his victorious smile from meters away.

"Is that the spot?" You call out to him. As you try to step harmlessly over a row of plants to get closer to him.

"I think so," he nods. His scarred hand brushes aside the large leaves to reveal a bush full of ripe berries untouched by bugs and wildlife.

" Wow, there's so many of them," you exclaim, staring down at the abundance below you. "They look perfect!"

"And that's not all," he says brightly. He nods his head, and you can see hundreds of berries dotting the bushes around you. "It looks like we'll have more than enough to get out to our friends later on."

You look down at your two woven baskets thoughtfully and chuckle. 

"What was that for? He asks, looking up at you quizzically. 

"It's nothing," you smile, ruffling his hair. "But I think we might need a few more baskets."

[ladyxskywalker]

In Exile, ii

Anakin Skywalker x F!Reader/OFC

During his morning meditation on the mountain side, Anakin faces a new enemy

part one | part three

a choose your own outcome story !

weekly story polls posted at the end of each chapter !

hope you enjoy ! 💌

Cliffs

Anakin didn’t like very many people.

Not since forming a close bond with Obi Wan, and certainly not since falling in love with Padme.

The idea of love never even crossed his mind in the last few years living out his existence on this planet. Monotony, and isolation compounded all of that for him. It was no longer on his radar.

Wherever he ended up in life, he didn’t feel it necessary to speak to anyone, let alone form a friendship with them if he absolutely didn’t have to.

He kept his head down. Stayed quiet. Tended to his field everyday. Watched as his crops and trees took on shape and beauty. That was something he could relate to - hard work, and discipline. Doing his best, and making sure that he was absolutely ‘better’ than everyone.

they don’t know what I’m capable of…

But when his neighbor moved in on the plot of land next to his, everything started to change. A man who once lost his sense of humanity, started to become whole again. 

Her smile did that for him.

And the sound of her voice alone, seemed to have made things the slightest bit better again.

So, when she told him of her troubles the day before involving that lowly fisherman, he got angry. Even more so when he heard more about this from the villagers in town.

It took everything in him just to speak with the modest shopkeepers, and the elders. Going against staying silent in order just to help her.

what do you know about him?

he’s a defector! a scoundrel!

fled fighting in the war?

I don’t know where from, but yes. took off during the clone wars.

how did he end up here?

bar fight, ended badly.

what do you mean?

stole from someone, then killed them. had a bounty on his head but escaped, somehow ended up here.

he won’t be here for long…

we’re good people, lars, none of us asked for thieves and criminals to infiltrate our home…

If only they knew…

As he begins to feel one with all of his thoughts, a light breeze begins to pass through all of the trees behind him. The sweet melodic song birds, delivering their peace to all of the mountainside. Everything is green here. The water, freshest just from falling. All that was once jagged is now made smooth again; the river, freely flowing over all of the stones and rock.

It reminds him of a time when everything made more sense. At least, that is what he settles with during his daily meditation. Breathing like this with his eyes closed makes him feel as though he has some sort of purpose, a reminder that, yes, perhaps I can in fact be whole again. 

But, it’s this one fight that’s been holding him back from all of it.

A kind face, that no matter how hard he tries, can never be forgotten.

Frankly, it’s become somewhat of an annoyance…

A beautiful, and persistent, growing sort of distraction…

you’re nice to me.

I try.

“Ha! Would you get a load of this! Tough guy seems to be one with nature! I know what you really are!”

there he is, perfect timing. 

“And what’s that? I’m just dying for you to tell me…”

With his eyes closed, Anakin smirks, where instinctually he feels the vagrant in question pacing back and forth behind him. 

his steps make the grass fold.

a few twigs have snapped.

“You’re soft! Defending some disgusting woman! What’d you think I wouldn’t hear about where you are?”

“That was my plan all along, not my fault you fell for it.”

there goes a splash into the water.

an echo of a floating basket behind him.

Anakin stands, turning to see what the sound was, only to find broken stems, and dirt, clouding the bottom of a nearby waterfall.

Rose petals. Scattered thorns...

Sunflowers, and broken glass jars.

Stolen garden tools.

Homemade favors, and jam, wrapped in woven cloth of all colors, strewn about the neighboring rocks. 

“You’re nothing, Lars, just like the rest of us! Who knows if that’s even who you really are!”

He smirks, all while lifting the palm of his hand, and controlling the air around them. Watching as his newfound enemy begins to choke on his own breath.

“Perhaps it is best that you address me from the floor.”

Anakin circles him, all while tightening his grip around his neck through the force.

“I was…right…you are…”

With a sharp and instant motion, all at once, he slams him toward the ground.

“Enough.”

Then, he continues with his onslaught.

“It seems you know exactly who I am, and what I’ve done. So the rest is only inevitable…”

His enemy’s eyes are ruthless, but there is only silence. A quiet he can not withhold.

“You’ve led a kind woman into great distress. Destroying her livelihood. And for what? Because she denied you?”

Anakin backhands him, a hardened blow to the face that manages to break the force’s hold.

“Coward.”

He then lands a strengthened kick to his stomach, before stepping on his throat.

Through the grit of teeth, the fisherman snarls.

“You’re…no General…”

“How would you know? You never fought in my war.”

he’s been spreading falsehoods about me and my family throughout the village…

“All you’ve done is harass an innocent girl. Do you take pride in that? What makes you so miserable?”

Releasing his boot, Anakin slowly walks toward the wildflowers. For a second he thinks about collecting some of them when he’s done here. And…the possibility of how they would look on her, worn as a pretty crown.

“She’s nothing but a whore!”

With his back turned, so viciously, he smiles.

“So unfortunate…”

As the nameless vagrant begins to rise to his feet, the entire mountain begins to rumble, causing him to stumble and fall.

“...that now you will be no more than a pile of dust.”

With a menacing crack, Anakin’s wrath lays claim to all of the Earth, forcing his enemy over the ridge ahead of him; listening to his screams ring out from the shattered edges of the cliffs.

what have I done?

why should I feel remorse?

I did nothing wrong...

he deserved it...

“He won’t be a problem anymore.” 

The words come easily, but they are only above a whisper now.

Everything is strangely quiet, where the trees no longer move.

It reminds him of the calm that happens right before a powerful storm.

Except, the carnage has already happened…

And he feels all the more alone.

… ❤️

thanks so much for reading & sharing this story ! I hope you are enjoying the choose your own outcome polls. it has definitely been a lot of fun getting to write these short scenes. sometimes I don't even know what will happen next until I am actually writing them ! I would love to know what you think. 💌😊 xo A

[moralesispunk]

Chapter Two - Astra

Din Djarin x Witch! Reader

Summary: Three years later, Din returns to visit you and brings a new friend

Warnings: Nowwww we're getting into the story, a little angst, no other warnings for this chapter apply

Word Count: 2.3k

Chapter One | Series Masterlist | Chapter Three

***

Three Years Later

"Who is this?"

"I just call him Kid."

It was not unusual for your farm to be a resting stop for weary travellers.

Camping spots for nomads set up on the other side of your farm, stories or trinkets swapped for medicine or food. Every other month you would see one, and only every other time would they actually venture into your farm seeking out the witch they were informed - or warned - about.

Years of this had made you welcoming but carefully cautious of travellers and yet, until the Mandalorian, you had never let one inside your home.

Until the Mandalorian, they had never returned.

The second time he had appeared, he had stayed for only three days. He had helped you tend to the crops that still had another month before the harvest, had told you stories not expecting anything in return, had listened to your own tales with rapt attention.

The third time he returned was for less than a day, only to share news that he had heard of somewhere that sounded a lot like your home and so he had more questions to ask. Were the days long or short? Short. Were there neighbouring villages? None that you ever encountered. Do you miss your home? On particularly lonesome days, yes.

The fourth time he had stayed longer than before, two weeks where the walls thrown up between you and him had begun to crack and splinter until his discarded armour looked at home between your thick blankets and bottles of medicine, only his helmet and gloves remained.

For the next two years, the Mandalorian would stop by your farm as he travelled for his bounty hunting. Sometimes there were weeks between visits, other times months. Sometimes he stayed for less than a day, other times more than a week.

Now, nearly a year has passed since his last visit, and it’s hard not to imagine the worst - whether he grew bored of the visits, or whether he lost his life to a reckless hunt.

You hope not the former, not after his last visit when a moment had passed between you so much closer than ever before, but the thought of the latter had a sharp pain slicing through your chest. You would rather he was alive out there somewhere, even if that meant without you, than left for dead.

There was an entire shelf in your home dedicated to the Mandalorian’s gifts alone, ones brought on his returns. Rocks collected from planets he had visited, all neatly laid out and dusted each morning. You were there now, lifting them one by one to clean, when the familiar feeling tugged inside you, pulling you towards the door.

It was a feeling that kept you alive most days, a warning that someone was near your home, but it was different with him. Stronger, more excitement than fear.

Usually, you would wait until he was ready before you started towards him, but this time when you carefully peeked around the door and upon setting eyes on him, you could not ignore the pull towards him. Your legs were already carrying you across the farm before his helmet had even looked up in your direction.

The first time he had landed had been the end of the colder months, your farm bare and ready for the next season of planting. Now, it was flourishing, tall crops and plants brushing your fingers as you weaved through the empty path towards him, tickling the parts of your skin that were still rough from planting each seed.

He was different now. His armour was no longer rusting and now the same silver as his helmet, his shoulders carrying both straighter and prouder but also as though the world was resting on his shoulders, and in his arms-

Your steps faltered, bare feet soaking into the wet grass from the morning showers, and your lips parted.

In his arms was a small, tiny being. Green skin and wrapped up in a brown shawl, big eyes watching you as the Mandalorian’s steps slowed until he stopped a few paces away.

“Hello.” His voice was the same deep, honeyed sound that you heard in your dreams.

He shifted his weight onto his other leg, and even behind the visor you could tell he was watching you carefully. You stepped closer, eyes dancing between the visor and the child in his arms.

“Who’s this?”

His helmet dipped down, lifting the child higher on his chest so they were now eye height with you.

“I just call him Kid.”

You snort a laugh, holding a hand out towards the child. One small green hand rests on your finger and you shake it slowly up and down.

“Well, nice to meet you, Kid.”

He babbles in return and you laugh, your hand dropping only when his touch lets go. When you look back up, the Mandalorian’s gaze is already on yours.

“He’s not yours?”

“Not in that way, no.”

You nod. A family member, perhaps? A friend’s child? You have seen all kinds of families brought together in this universe - friends who become family and family who become friends.

“Are you hungry?” You ask.

His answering nod is slow, cautious, perhaps even questioning.

Maybe he expected the hundreds of questions that have kept you awake this past year. During the worst of it, four months ago, you had gone nearly a full moon cycle with barely more than an hour’s sleep every other night. On those sleepless nights you would wander the farm, checking on the crops, your mind galaxies away with the Mandalorian.

You had never yearned to travel the galaxies before. Tales told by travellers were simply that - stories to be enjoyed, consumed, but never once did you imagine yourself in them. You were the static being, one who stayed in the same place as the universe continued spinning on around you, and yet with the Mandalorian gone for so long, you began to wonder what you were missing out on.

Your mother had travelled the galaxies before you were born, that much you knew. She had been the only person in your village who had done so. The rest had been born there, had only ever left the village edge to hunt or barter goods.

She never spoke much of her travels, instead your father shared with you tales of your village and the generations before and those were the stories you had enjoyed; stories of people who had nurtured their home until it would flourish and keep future generations safe. Those were the stories you held closest to your heart.

But on the nights you wandered your farm you wondered what was out there that you had never seen. Would you have described other planets the way the talkative travellers had? Would you have liked what they liked and hated what they hated? The thoughts of travelling and the lost Mandalorian had kept you awake more often than not.

It’s not as bad now, the tiredness no longer keeps your face as hollow or your bones as tired, but you can already feel the urge to sleep well begin to seep into your muscles knowing that he’s alive.

The Mandalorian shifts his weight again, the child in his arms growing quiet as they continue to watch you carefully.

“I have some stew on.” You turn on your heels, leading them inside.

Your home is much the same as it was the first time the Mandalorian had visited. Warm, cosy, the new addition of a few trinkets from weary travellers who have visited in the past years and swapped them for a warm bowl of stew or extra layers for their journey.

The kid wanders around while the Mandalorian waits cautiously at the door, your back to him as you try to control the warring emotions on your face while preparing the table. When you finally turn, a forced calm on your face, even though his body is angled towards the kid you can feel his gaze on yours.

“Would you like to eat first or-”

“No. You and the kid can eat first.”

It’s awkward, something that hasn't been between you since the first day of his first visit here. He stands by the door while you eat, a few words shared of how he came by the kid - a bounty that he has now taken as his ward - and why he is here - the bounty still seemingly on his head.

Eventually you give up trying. Talking to the kid who only babbles in return.You tell him of last year’s harvest, of the weather, or a few visitors you have had. You don’t know if he understands - or if his babbles are telling you to stop annoying him - but you spend the rest of your meal this way.

When you look up again, the Mandalorian is gone. The door is open enough for you to see as he wanders the farm, looking carefully at your crops, occasionally bending down and testing the soil, and soon when the sun begins to set the small child beside you starts to lean his weight on you. Before long the sky is a dark navy and he has fallen asleep in his lap.

You tidy the mess of dinner, carefully moving the child to a makeshift bed. He curls into a half-knitted blanket, hands pulling it up higher until he is nearly entirely hidden from view, and you gently rock the chair.

He had never mentioned family before, not this kind of family anyway. He had spoken of his people, the few Mandalorian left that he knew of. They were good people, it seemed; bound by the same morals as he was.

Since the last time the Mandalorian had left your farm, after months of not seeing him, you left your farm and travelled further than you had in years to a close town. It was busier than the neighbouring villages you could walk to and from in a day, with busy shops and markets.

You had to stay a night there, and you had pushed the memory of the note you had left on your door left there should the Mandalorian have visited in the time you were gone - a pathetic hope that he would be there when you returned. When you got home, it was clear he had not been. You ripped the note off the door, throwing it in the fire you set for the evening, and then curled up in your chair with the book you had bartered for.

A History of the Lost Clan: Mandalorians

It was a small book, barely larger than your hand, and it now lay tattered on the shelves by the rocks. You read it cover to cover so many times you could recite it with your eyes closed.

You turn to pick it up, hand landing on the smooth surface of the shelf instead. Your hand drops, and when you look through the window the Mandalorian is now sitting on the steps of your porch.

You go outside and take a seat beside him, both of you looking out across your small farm, the new addition of goats and chickens in the corner and the flourishing crops everywhere else.

The Mandalorian clears his throat, his gloved fingers running down the spine of the book in his lap.

“How have you been?”

You don’t look at him when you answer.

“Good.” You tuck your knees towards your chest. “You?”

“Busy.”

You huff a laugh, resting your cheek on your knee and finally looking at him to find he is already carefully watching you.

“I wasn’t sure if something had happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” he says and you shake your head.

“You don’t have to be. We’re not- so as to say’” You sigh, trying to find the words. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

“No?”

Your eyes rake over him, and you shrug.

“The child,” you say, sitting up straighter, “he feels different.”

“I know.”

“I’ve only felt it twice before.” You twist your lips, trying to remember how long ago those travellers had ventured onto your farm but it was from a time when the years seemed to blur together - like many of the years before the Mandalorian.

“I’ve never known anyone like him.” He turns, facing back out into your farm, and you look at him carefully.

There is a tiredness hidden beneath his armour. When you first met him, you thought he was a statue beneath the layers of armour, now you can see for what it is - a barrier between him and the world.

Even though he spends most of his time quiet, his mind races beneath the helmet. You would give anything to know what goes on in there.

There is a thud of metal against your hip and you look down at the blaster placed by your side.

“Keep this. It seems the kid has trouble following wherever he goes. I don’t want him bringing it here when you have no protection.”

“I’ve gone long enough without needing a weapon.” You nudge it back towards him.

“Please.”

“I don’t know how to use it.”

“I’ll show you in the morning.” He pushes it closer to you again. “Please.”

You look between the metal and him before nodding once, tucking it in a pocket in your skirts.

“How long will you stay?”

It’s the first time you have asked. Never before have you given into the urge to want to know his return.

He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and tucks the book closer to his chest.

“I need to do something. I’ll be gone for a week, maybe two. But then I’ll come back.”

“For what?”

His hand reaches out, gloved knuckles brushing down your cheek.

“For you.”

*****

And you know that saying, the calm before the storm…

[yuesya]

“Why did you do that?!”

Tenes shuffles uneasily in the background, biting his lip as he clenches his fingers over the clipboard. He casts a glance at Thrasus, who looks angry, and it’s kind of scary, even though the anger isn’t aimed at him. Tenes would rather that his supervisor be upset with him, though, because the current reality is even worse: Thrasus is angry with Titania.

Titania, the first of the Iron Cavalry. The bioweapon that was specifically designed to lead and command the legions of cloned soldiers against the Swarm.

Behind the thick layer of reinforced glass, Titania floats quietly in the blue-green experimental liquid. It casts an eerie color over her naked body –as if the solid black limbs morphing into human flesh wasn’t enough of an eerie sight already. And there were also those antennae atop her head. Tenes is almost glad that Titania has never opened her eyes before, because if it’s the same as those beady eyes of the bug-aliens, then he thinks that he might have nightmares for a week.

[I do not understand your question, Thrasus.] The speakers connected to the audio device acting as Titania’s ‘voice’ suddenly come to life. The voice is feminine, but very clearly artificial and robotic all the same.

(Personally, Tenes has never really understood the choice; wouldn’t it be easy enough to designate a more realistic-sounding voice to translate Titania’s signals? Wasn’t enough already that Titania looked half-bug alien, what was the point in making her seem half-machine lifeform, too? … More nightmare fuel, as if the entire world wasn’t enough of a nightmare already?)

“You were designed with the pinnacle of Glamoth’s intelligence, don’t play dumb.” Thrasus’ voice is harsh and unamused. “Why did you withdraw the Iron Cavalry from Pandaisia?”

[The forces stationed there were not enough to overcome the increased numbers of the Swarm. Engaging in combat would not have yielded meaningful results, and so I deemed that the Iron Cavalry would be better utilized in–]

“So you just gave up on Pandaisia?!” Thrasus roars.

[Correction: Temporary retreat.] Titania remains unmoving amid the hundreds of wires that she’s connected to. For all intents and purposes, she appears to be peacefully sleeping –which strikes a strong contrast against Thrasus’ anger. [Pandaisia is a nonessential area with low strategic value. It would be better to reclaim Phaenna first, before mounting any efforts to target–]

“The Council specifically ordered for Pandaisia to be reclaimed by the end of this month,” the scientist hisses. “Do you not understand the boost it would be for morale? Pandaisia’s agricultural industry once had the highest output in Glamoth with its fertile lands. If we can tell people that Pandaisia is ours once again, if we can let them know that there’s hope even despite the ongoing resource crisis–”

[Pandaisia’s lands have already been ravaged by the Swarm. It is unlikely that the fertility of the land will produce any bountiful crop yields. Estimated time of recovery is–]

“It’s not just about the goddamned resources! We need a meaningful victory that people can rally behind and cheer for!” Thrasus groans, running a hand through his hair. “Gods, resources are thin enough already, and if the Council decides to pull their support, then we–”

“Let me deal with the Council, Thrasus.”

Thank gods Chief Scientist Polus is here. Tenes quietly closes and hides his communicator –the one he’d used to notify the Chief Scientist of what was going on here. Then, he does his best to make himself small and disappear into a corner of the room.

“… Polus.” It’s either the Chief Scientist’s sudden appearance or the fact that Thrasus has already gotten most of the anger out of his system through shouting that has the man swiftly calming down again. “You aren’t worried at all by what this might mean for us?”

“The Council won’t decommission the Iron Cavalry,” the Chief Scientist shakes his head. “The Iron Cavalry is the hope of Glamoth. It’s only been a short time since Titania was activated, and we’re already starting to see results with the Swarm being pushed back in various locations all over Glamoth. The Council is just being too hasty.”

“Whatever. I’ll leave the political talk to you, then,” Thrasus grumbles.

The Chief Scientist nods, then turns towards the immobile bioweapon floating in her containment chamber.

[Hello, Polus.]

“Hello there, Titania.” Chief Scientist Polus checks a few of the readings on the side panels, then nods in apparent satisfaction at what he sees. “How are you doing?”

[I am well. All systems are online and operational.]

“Good,” the Chief Scientist nods, stepping backwards. He pulls out a holographic screen, and begins tapping away through them, his fingers a blue. “And, Titania –none of us here are military officers or strategists, so we can’t help you in matters of the battlefield. But, we’re still here to support you. Don’t be too concerned about losing your soldiers.”

There is a slight pause this time, before Titania responds again. [… I do not understand. Is there not an ongoing resource crisis?]

Thrasos snorts and folds his arms across his chest, muttering, “This is the one resource that there’s plenty of. Accursed bug aliens…”

“It’s fine, Titania,” Chief Scientist Polus replies, ignoring his fellow researcher and not even pausing to glance up from his growing cluster of holographic screens. “Don’t worry about it. We can just make more of them.”

[loving-the-cambridges]

The Winter Rose Blooms

Summary: a renowned matchmaker, is tasked with finding a bride for Cody, the heir to the throne of the royal family on a snowy, idyllic planet far away in the galaxy. But while the reader is determined to fulfill her duty, she doesn’t expect to fall for Rex, the spare prince with a heart of gold and a penchant for mischief. As snow falls and the warmth of the season unfolds, love blooms where it’s least expected—proving that sometimes, the best matches aren’t planned at all.

A/N: This story was inspired by a Christmas movie I’d seen, and I thought it would be a lovely addition to the Clone Wars holiday stories out there. I wanted to blend the charm of royal romance with the rich camaraderie and emotional depth of the Clone Wars characters, creating something heartfelt and festive. I hope this brings a little joy and warmth to your holiday reading!

-----

Alderia hung in the vast tapestry of the galaxy like a jewel lost to time. Its beauty was so tangible it might have been carved by the hand of a benevolent god—so much so that travelers whispered of it as though it were myth. Planets in the Outer Rim were rarely spoken of with reverence, but Alderia was an exception.  

From orbit, its surface shimmered with life. Indigo oceans spread like veins, their depths glowing faintly under the light of its twin moons, Ceera and Lumar. Snow-draped mountains clawed skyward to the west, their jagged peaks sharp as blades forged by time. These were the **Jolaris Mountains**, home to valleys choked in mist and legends older than the Republic itself. Waterfalls crashed over cliffsides like liquid silver, feeding rivers that snaked their way down into the open arms of Alderia's vast countryside.

The countryside—The Naldorian Reach—unfurled endlessly, rippling with gold, green, and copper in the light of a low sun. Fields of fireflowers swayed like waves of flame, their petals casting a soft glow under the night. Here, farmers tended to crops that fed not just their planet but many others who came seeking Alderia’s bounty. Herds of **tarka**, long-horned creatures with coats of soft silver fur, grazed freely. Villages sprouted amidst the land like freckles, their cottages carved from smooth gray stone, smoke curling peacefully from their chimneys.  

To the south lay the **Ivaryn Seas**, sprawling sapphire waters where waves crashed against cliffs shaped by a millennia of tides. Ships from the far corners of the galaxy anchored here, their sails or thrusters spilling stories of distant systems. Markets brimmed with alien goods—rugs woven on Naboo, glittering crystals mined deep on Christophsis, and spices from the windswept plains of Tatooine. Valford Prime, the capital, sprawled in the planet’s heart—a city of bridges and canals, where modern steel and glass spires rose alongside mosaicked relics of a bygone age.

The people of Alderia were as colorful as their planet, a mosaic of cultures that had long made their home here. They came in pursuit of peace, a place unspoiled by galactic war or greed, and they stayed because Alderia embraced them as its own. Their tongues spoke many languages, their songs carried many traditions. And together, they loved their planet like a child loves its mother—fiercely, selflessly.

It was a place alive in a way the rest of the galaxy seemed to have forgotten.

---

On the highest balcony of Valford Prime’s royal palace, Jaster stood, his silhouette backlit by the rising sun. The crisp morning air rolled in from the Jolaris peaks, carrying the scent of pine, frost, and the delicate winter roses blooming in the gardens below. Jaster let his gaze drift across the world beneath him—the tapestry of mountains, plains, and seas spread out like a promise that no longer belonged to him.  

For all its splendor, Alderia felt quieter these days.  

The king’s fingers curled around the carved stone railing, his knuckles white for a fleeting moment before he forced himself to relax. He had been many things in his lifetime: a leader, a diplomat, a soldier in his youth—but never, not once, had he imagined becoming a father to five boys who were not his own.  

Jaster closed his eyes, and with the softness of morning came the memory.  

**Jango.**  

His son. His only child.  

It had been nearly two decades, but loss was a wound that time refused to stitch closed. *A shuttle accident*, they had told him, voices brittle with grief. Somewhere deep in the Jolaris range, a storm had come—sudden and ferocious—and Alderia’s skies had swallowed Jango whole. 

Jaster could still remember the sound of it. The palace had been filled with the silence of disbelief when they broke the news. He had stood in this very spot, the soft white petals of the winter roses fluttering like snow at his feet, and watched as the light drained from the world. *There were no survivors.*  

The boy who had once tugged at Jaster’s sleeves to ask about the galaxy’s endless stars, the boy who had loved the Naldorian fields in summer and the Ivaryn tides in winter—was gone.

Jaster hadn’t had the privilege of breaking down. No, he had been king, and kings were not allowed to fall apart. Not even when the palace halls echoed emptily, devoid of Jango’s laughter.  

Instead, he had been given **Cody, Rex, Fives, Echo, and Jesse**—Jango’s sons, the living pieces of a man taken far too soon. Jaster had buried his grief beneath the weight of a grandfather’s love, raising them not as heirs to a throne but as boys who deserved to be happy. They had become his solace, his redemption.  

Cody, the eldest, wore his crown of responsibility like a second skin. Rex, the second-born, with his disarming grin and glinting eyes, walked the line between playfulness and quiet longing. The twins, Fives and Echo, filled the palace with energy—always underfoot, always in trouble. And Jesse, the youngest, carried his father’s fire in his veins, a boy whose resolve burned brighter than any star.  

Jaster had given them everything. And yet—what kind of legacy had he built for them?

---

A soft knock broke the quiet. Jaster turned, regal in his bearing despite the wear that life had etched onto his face. The sun cast a faint golden glow across the silver in his hair, his blue eyes reflecting a wisdom hard-earned.  

“Your Majesty?”  

The aide bowed low, his tone quiet, respectful. “The matchmaker has arrived. She awaits you in the library.”  

Ah, yes. The matchmaker. A measure born of desperation.  

Jaster sighed softly, one hand smoothing down the front of his coat—a finely woven garment in royal indigo trimmed with silver thread. To an outsider, he looked every bit the monarch: commanding, poised, untouchable. But in the shadow of his sharp jawline lingered exhaustion that no cloak of dignity could quite disguise.  

He turned back once more to the balcony, to the world that stretched far beyond the palace walls. Alderia, his Alderia, had flourished under his rule. But peace, he knew, was fragile. The galaxy was changing. And for the good of the throne, for the future of his people, Cody needed a bride—a match worthy of Alderia’s weight.  

And so, he had called for the matchmaker.  

Jaster straightened, his spine as unbending as the mountains that guarded his kingdom. “I will meet her shortly.”  

The aide bowed again, retreating quietly, leaving Jaster alone once more.  

For a long moment, the king lingered, his gaze drifting back to the horizon where the snow-capped Jolaris Mountains kissed the sky.  

“Forgive me, Jango,” he murmured, his voice soft as the wind that swept over the balcony. “I do this for them.”  

The winter roses rustled faintly below, their pale petals gleaming against the frost-dusted ground.  

With a final breath, Jaster turned and strode back into the palace, his footsteps slow but deliberate. The weight of a king's duty was an old companion. And today, it would guide him once more.

****

The moment (Y/n) stepped onto the landing platform, the weight of Alderia hit her—not physically, but something deeper, a resonance in her bones, as though the planet itself whispered secrets into the chill air. The sky was a pale lavender, soft with the blush of morning, its twin suns still climbing beyond the horizon. Frost edged the paving stones in delicate patterns, shimmering under the orange glow of guiding lights. A cool wind swept across the platform, tugging strands of her dark hair loose from the elegant twist she’d fashioned earlier.

“Focus,” she told herself, clutching the leather strap of her bag tightly against her shoulder.

(Y/n) (Y/L/N) was no stranger to royal summons. Over the years, her work had brought her across countless systems, from the gilded halls of Serenno to the sunlit courts of Naboo. And while reputations varied from planet to planet, hers was solid. The matchmaker of the galaxy, they called her, though there was little romance in it. Matching was business—an art woven with precision, calculation, and a touch of intuition.

Yet Alderia felt... different. Its air carried an ancient weight, its silence deeper than she expected, as though the planet had stopped to watch her.

***

a man with sharp shoulders and a pinched expression. His uniform was immaculate—a deep indigo tunic lined with silver trim—and though his demeanor was courteous, he appraised (Y/n) with quick, analytical eyes.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said with a clipped nod. “The King awaits you.”

(Y/n) inclined her head politely, forcing herself to ignore the slight hitch in her chest. She had been briefed on King Jaster: widowed early, robbed of his only son, a ruler both beloved and distant. A man who had borne more loss than most could survive.

Still, standing here—before a palace of towering spires and ancient glass—it was impossible not to feel small.

As she was led into the main corridor, her breath caught.

***

The palace of Valford Prime was magnificent, but not in the way of grand and showy courts she had seen before. It was old, as though carved from the very mountains that loomed over it, a place built to last centuries. Smooth stone walls rose high above her, their surfaces interrupted by arches lined with mosaics—each a depiction of Alderia’s history. Fireflowers wove through the tiles like bursts of flame, their bright scarlet contrasting the muted greys and creams.

Beneath her feet, polished marble stretched out in soft hues of onyx and ivory, cool even through the soles of her boots. Chandeliers hung overhead, forged from glass and silver, casting warm pools of golden light onto the floor. The air smelled faintly of pinewood smoke and winter roses—subtle, familiar scents that spoke of comfort and care.

(Y/n)’s gaze moved to the stained-glass windows that framed the corridor. Each pane glowed softly with the light of morning, their surfaces painted with intricate scenes—warriors standing beside tamed tarkas, scholars presenting star maps, families gathered under twin moons.

“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, unable to stop herself.

The attendant glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, a flicker of approval hidden behind his professionalism. “Alderia has always valued its legacy.”

(Y/n) nodded, though something unspoken lingered in his words. A place so steeped in beauty, so carefully tended—what would happen to it if its legacy was left unfulfilled?

***

She was led through a series of adjoining halls, their silence punctuated only by the occasional hum of droids or the shuffle of guards shifting to attention. Her boots clicked softly against the marble, a sound that seemed unnaturally loud in the stillness.

At last, the attendant paused before a grand wooden door. It was old, carved with swirling patterns of vines and blooming roses, the kind of artistry no one bothered with anymore.

“The king is within,” the attendant said, stepping aside.

(Y/n) swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. Adjusting the collar of her deep emerald coat, she gave herself a moment to breathe, centering the cool calm she wore as armor. It was just another meeting—another royal court. Another job.

She stepped through the door.

***

Warmth greeted her first.

The library was a cathedral of wood and firelight, a room made of shadows and amber glow. Shelves of carved mahogany stretched from floor to ceiling, crammed with tomes whose spines had been worn smooth by centuries of hands. A fire crackled low in a stone hearth to her left, the flames dancing as though pleased to have company. Its glow painted the dark green walls with flickers of gold, spilling light across a pair of leather armchairs positioned before it.

The room smelled of old parchment, leather, and pine smoke, with an undertone of something distinctly Alderian—a faint sweetness, perhaps from the roses (Y/n) had noticed earlier.

Then she saw him.

****

King Jaster stood near the fire, one hand resting on the back of an armchair as though he were only half-present in the room.

The man was every inch the ruler she’d been told to expect. Tall and imposing, with broad shoulders and a straight back that spoke of years spent wearing authority like armor. His hair, streaked with silver, framed a face marked by both strength and sorrow—deep lines etched at the corners of his mouth and eyes. Yet there was something warm in those eyes, a glint of sharp intelligence softened by what might have once been humor.

For a man who had lost so much, Jaster still carried himself with a quiet kind of grace.

When he turned to face her fully, (Y/n) felt the weight of his gaze—not cruel, nor suspicious, but thoughtful, as though he were assessing not just who she was but what she carried with her.

“You are (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice deep, deliberate, yet not unkind. “The matchmaker.”

“I am,” she replied, offering a slight bow of her head. “Your Majesty.”

He studied her for a long moment, his gaze sharp as a vibroblade.

“I’ve heard of your reputation,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, laced with something she couldn’t yet name. “Your work has taken you to many worlds. Alderia is far from most of them.”

“I go where I’m needed.” (Y/n) straightened, meeting his gaze. “And I understand your need is urgent.”

Jaster’s lips twitched slightly, though it was not quite a smile.

“That remains to be seen.” He gestured toward the chair across from his own. “Please, sit.”

****

(Y/n) moved carefully, lowering herself into the chair, her posture poised. The leather creaked faintly beneath her, though the warmth of the fire softened the chill that had clung to her skin since she’d arrived.

Jaster sank into his own seat with a kind of weary elegance, his large hands resting on the arms of the chair. He studied her again—longer this time—his sharp blue eyes seeming to measure something deeper than the surface.

“And what do you know of Alderia, Miss (Y/L/N)?”

(Y/n) met his gaze, calm despite the tension crackling softly in the air. “I know it is a planet unlike most in the Outer Rim. It thrives because its people believe in its beauty, its harmony. I know that legacy matters here.”

“Legacy.” Jaster repeated the word slowly, as though tasting its edges. His gaze turned toward the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. “You understand, then, what is at stake.”

“I wouldn’t be here otherwise,” she said gently.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and alive with unspoken things. Then, finally, Jaster leaned forward, his expression unreadable.

“Do you believe love can be found, Miss (Y/L/N)? Or is it simply a convenience we dress up in finer clothes?”

The question caught her off guard, though she didn’t show it.

She hesitated for the briefest moment before answering. “I believe love is where it’s most unexpected. It is rarely found—it’s discovered.”

For a heartbeat, the fire crackled louder than the space between them. Then something shifted in Jaster’s expression—a faint softening, perhaps, though it was gone almost as quickly as it came.

“Unexpected,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Finally, Jaster leaned back, his gaze settling on her once again.

“Very well, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “We shall see what it is you discover here.”

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The king’s words were not a dismissal, but they were far from a welcome.

This job—this planet—would be unlike any other.

And as she looked at the man before her, cloaked in firelight and the burden of his world, (Y/n) couldn’t help but feel it: the subtle, creeping certainty that Alderia had already begun to change her.

****

(Y/n) had always believed that a palace, no matter how grand, was not the heart of a world—its people were. Alderia, with its quiet beauty and timeless grace, had struck her deeply the moment she arrived, but the palace, however warm its firelight, still carried a weight she could not shake. She needed fresh air, needed to step out beyond the stone walls that hummed with centuries of whispers.

After unpacking her modest belongings in the chamber provided to her—a room lined with thick tapestries and velvet curtains that carried the faint scent of pine—(Y/n) changed into a more practical ensemble. She had traded her formal coat and boots for simpler attire: a dark cloak lined with fur at the collar, gloves to stave off the bite of winter, and soft leather boots that muffled her footsteps as she walked.

Slipping out of the palace had been easier than expected. The guards at the entryway, though vigilant, simply nodded respectfully as she passed. She had seen that nod before—a subtle acknowledgment of her position and, more importantly, a quiet curiosity. The matchmaker. A stranger.

The old town of Valford Prime welcomed her with open arms, though its embrace was brisk. The streets were alive in a way the palace could never be, bustling with the music of life—merchants calling out their wares, children laughing as they darted through narrow alleyways, the rhythmic clatter of hooves on cobblestones. Above it all, twin moons Lumar and Ceera hung low, their pale glow softening the morning light.

***

The old town of Valford Prime was alive, its streets humming with a rhythm all their own—organic, vibrant, and timeless. The crisp winter air had settled into the crevices of cobbled lanes and market stalls, carrying the mingling scents of roasting nuts, fresh-baked bread, and something faintly floral. Overhead, narrow bridges connected weathered buildings, draped in vines hardened by frost, their windows aglow with amber light from within.

(Y/n) lingered at the edge of the square, letting the sounds and sights of this place wash over her. Markets like this were the pulse of any world, but here in Alderia, it felt different. Deliberate. Every moment was savored, every small interaction carried meaning, as though time itself bent to the will of the people.

She absently brushed her fingers over the pendant in her pocket—the winter rose carving gifted to her by the old vendor. Her heart had been warmed by the woman’s quiet reverence for the royal family, but it had also left her unsettled. The king’s grief hung over this planet like morning mist—something beautiful and tragic all at once. She wondered if his grandsons carried that same weight, if they felt the threads of history pulling tight against their every step.

***

The sound of laughter broke through her thoughts—a rich, rolling kind of laughter that came from the belly and pulled others along with it. (Y/n) turned toward its source, weaving through the throngs of market-goers until she spotted a heavy-set man behind a fruit stall. His skin was weathered bronze, his cheeks red from the cold, and his thick hands moved deftly as he peeled a citrus fruit the size of her fist.

“Oi, girl, you look lost!” he called to her with a voice as big as he was. “Or maybe you’re just trying to figure out how one fruit can look so strange.” He grinned and held up the half-peeled fruit, the vibrant orange skin spiraling down in one clean piece.

(Y/n) smiled, the man’s boisterous energy infectious. “I wouldn’t say lost,” she replied as she approached, tilting her head to examine the fruit. “Curious, perhaps.”

“Curious is good,” he said with a wag of his finger, “it means you’re alive. And on a cold day like this, I’ll take life over numb fingers any day.” He sliced off a chunk of the fruit and offered it to her on the flat edge of his knife. “Here. You can’t walk these streets without tasting them.”

(Y/n) hesitated only briefly before accepting the slice, her gloved fingers brushing the cool blade as she took it. The fruit’s juice burst across her tongue—bright, tart, and tangy, like sunlight distilled into flavor.

“That’s…” she paused, blinking in surprise. “Incredible.”

The man barked a laugh that startled a pigeon off a nearby ledge. “Alderian sunfruit, miss! They don’t grow anywhere else, no matter how hard those Coruscanti botanists try. You’ve got to let the soil sing to them.”

(Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. “And does the soil sing to everything here?”

“Everything and everyone,” the man replied, his tone softening. His jovial exterior gave way to something gentler as he wiped his hands on a cloth and leaned against his stall. “That’s why we love this place. Alderia’s got a heart, girl. It’s old, and it’s strong, and we listen to it when it speaks.”

(Y/n) watched him carefully, noting the way his hands stilled and his gaze drifted toward the palace spires visible in the distance. The king. She didn’t need to ask to know that was what he thought of.

“The royal family?” she prompted softly, her words barely more than a breath. “Do they listen too?”

The man straightened, his large frame suddenly still, as though he were measuring her. “The king has given more of himself to this place than most men could,” he said finally. “He’s loved it, fought for it, bled for it—and lost for it, too.” He nodded toward the palace, his eyes soft but resolute. “Jaster’s a good man. The kind you don’t see much of anymore. And the boys? Well, we see their father in them.”

“Jango,” (Y/n) murmured, almost to herself.

The man’s face softened further, and he nodded slowly. “Aye. He was a good lad—brash, brave, and full of fire. The twins take after him the most, you know. Always stirring trouble, but their hearts are in the right place.”

(Y/n) tucked that bit of information away carefully, feeling as though each word, each sentiment, brought her closer to understanding this family she had been tasked with helping. She thanked the man with a sincere smile and turned to leave, but he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Be careful with them,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost reverent. “The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul on their backs. They’re stronger than most, but even mountains crack under too much weight.”

***

approaching a small wooden stall draped in thick blankets of deep purple and teal. The vendor behind it was an older woman, her cheeks pink from the cold, her hands calloused and strong. A wooden carving of the Jolaris Mountains sat at the corner of the table, its edges smooth from being held. (Y/n)’s gloved fingers brushed it gently, tracing the peaks.

“It’s beautiful,” she said quietly, smiling as she met the woman’s curious gaze. “You carved this?”

The woman tilted her head, clearly surprised to see someone like (Y/n) standing here—someone whose finely tailored cloak marked her as not local. Still, her expression softened into something kind.

“My grandson did,” she said, her voice husky with age but filled with pride. “He’s good with his hands, that boy. Learnt from his father.”

(Y/n) picked up the carving, its weight solid and grounding in her palm. “The Jolaris. They look so much more alive here than they do from the palace.”

The woman chuckled, a dry sound that seemed to carry centuries of wisdom. “The mountains were here before kings. They’ll be here long after. Carve them enough, you might just capture their spirit.”

(Y/n) smiled faintly, placing the carving back down. “How long have you lived here, in Valford Prime?”

The woman’s eyes gleamed. “Born here, just like my mother and her mother before her. Never left Alderia, though my eldest has. Went offworld to Coruscant. Too noisy there for me, but she loves it.”

(Y/n) leaned forward slightly, as though the question might slip from her lips if she wasn’t careful. “And the king? What do you think of him?”

It was a bold question. Too bold, maybe. But (Y/n) had always believed the truth of a royal family lay with its people.

The woman didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned her attention to the carving, running a finger along its edge. When she finally spoke, her voice carried a reverence tempered by understanding.

“King Jaster has seen more loss than most men would survive,” she said simply, looking up to meet (Y/n)’s gaze with eyes sharp as glass. “But he still stands. That’s no small thing.”

(Y/n) held her breath for a moment. He still stands.

“And his grandsons?” she asked, her tone gentler now, though she could feel the woman’s watchful gaze.

The woman’s lips twitched into a faint smile. “The boys are the heart of Alderia, even if they don’t know it yet. Cody carries the world on his back like his father. Rex? Well, he’s a storm—wild but good for the earth when he settles. The twins are trouble, but trouble’s not always bad, is it?” She chuckled to herself, her hands busily folding a thick blanket. “And Jesse—ah, the youngest has his father’s fire. That boy will burn bright when his time comes.”

Something in (Y/n)’s chest tightened as the woman spoke. There was no need to ask about their late father. Jango’s absence hung between the words unspoken, like a ghost that refused to rest.

****

(Y/n)’s steps were slower as she left the market square, her mind full. The fruit vendor’s words lingered in her thoughts, their simplicity carrying the kind of wisdom she had only ever found in people who lived close to the earth.

As she turned into a narrow alleyway, the scent of roasting chestnuts caught her attention. A small, sputtering fire crackled under an iron grate where an elderly man turned a pan slowly, humming a tune so low it blended with the pop of the coals. His clothes were rough, patched at the knees, and his cap was pulled low to shield his face from the cold. Yet his motions were unhurried, deliberate—as though each chestnut deserved his full care.

(Y/n) paused, her hands tucked into the warmth of her cloak. “That song,” she said quietly, tilting her head, “it’s beautiful. Where is it from?”

The man didn’t look up right away, his gnarled fingers moving with practiced ease. “Alderian lullaby,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “My grandmother sang it to me when I was small.” Finally, he lifted his head, his sharp eyes—clouded slightly with age—fixing on hers. “You’re not from here.”

“No,” (Y/n) admitted softly, stepping closer as the fire cast flickering shadows on the alley walls. “I’m not.”

“And yet you ask questions like you wish you were,” he said, his eyes narrowing slightly as though peering into her. “Why?”

“I like to understand,” she replied. “People, places. The stories they carry.”

The man’s mouth twitched, not quite a smile. “Stories are heavy things, girl. You best know what you’re asking to hold.”

(Y/n) felt a chill that had nothing to do with the air as she crouched beside the fire. “And what of the king’s story? Or his family’s?”

The man turned the pan once more, the flames licking at the edges. “You’ve met him, haven’t you?”

She nodded.

“Then you’ve seen it already.” He handed her a chestnut wrapped in a strip of cloth to protect her fingers. “Grief leaves marks on a man, but love does too. Jaster carries both. And those boys of his—” He paused, staring at the fire for a long moment, his voice dropping into something reverent. “They carry their father’s shadow like a torch. Bright and heavy.”

(Y/n) accepted the chestnut, its warmth spreading into her palm.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The old man gave her a slow, meaningful nod before turning back to his fire, the lullaby drifting up again like smoke curling into the sky.

***

“Here, miss,” the woman said suddenly, pulling (Y/n) from her thoughts. She held up a small, carved pendant—a tiny replica of the winter rose, smooth and delicate. “For you.”

(Y/n) blinked, startled. “Oh, I couldn’t—”

“Nonsense.” The woman pressed it into (Y/n)’s palm, her weathered fingers surprisingly gentle. “It’s a gift. A blessing, of sorts.”

(Y/n) closed her hand around it, the small carving warm from the woman’s touch. “Thank you,” she whispered, the words soft but heartfelt.

The woman nodded, a knowing glint in her eyes. “The winter rose blooms when it’s least expected. You’d do well to remember that.”

(Y/n) stared at her for a long moment, something unspoken shifting in her chest.

***

As (Y/n) walked back toward the palace, her fingers brushed over the pendant in her pocket and the flower in the other. The stories she had gathered today weighed on her, pressing against her ribs like something alive.

The royal family carried the soul of this world, she realized. The people saw them not as rulers, but as guardians—as the stewards of something ancient and sacred. And yet, for all their strength, there was fragility in that reverence, a quiet fear that too much weight might cause even the strongest to crumble.

The thought unnerved her, and yet it made her purpose here clearer than ever. She would need to tread carefully—because the stories of Alderia were alive, and they were watching.

****

The morning sun streamed through the high-arched windows of the palace, gilding the stone floors in warm light as (Y/n) walked briskly down the east corridor. Her boots tapped lightly against the polished marble, the sound punctuating the low murmur of palace activity—guards shifting in their stations, the occasional scuff of servant footsteps, the faint clang of dishes being prepared in kitchens beyond the hall. She could smell freshly baked bread mixed with the sharp, clean scent of frost from the gardens beyond, a reminder of the world waiting quietly outside.

Despite the serene grandeur of her surroundings, her mind was far less settled. Her walk through the old town the day before still lingered in her thoughts—every word the locals had shared, every unspoken weight they had carried.��The royal family—they carry Alderia’s soul. She had begun to see why, and she couldn’t help but feel a strange kinship with the people who spoke of their rulers with such reverence.

And today, she would meet the eldest of them—the weight bearer himself.

***

(Y/n) stood outside a set of ornate double doors, the dark wood carved with intricate patterns of twisting vines and winter roses. The library she had been ushered to yesterday seemed intimate in comparison. This room felt formal, imposing. A meeting chamber for royalty. She shifted her weight, brushing imaginary wrinkles from her sleeves, before straightening and raising her chin. Whatever she felt—curiosity, unease, determination—would stay locked firmly beneath the polished surface she wore so well.

A soft knock. The doors creaked open.

A steward gestured her forward, his tone courteous but impersonal. “The Crown Prince will meet you now.”

The Crown Prince. Just the title felt like a stone laid upon her chest, as though the man beyond this door was more responsibility than person. (Y/n) stepped inside.

***

The room was enormous, its high ceilings supported by stone pillars that swept upward like trees in an ancient forest. A long table stretched across the center, its surface immaculate save for a neatly arranged pile of star charts and datapads at one end. Pale curtains hung on either side of the tall windows, filtering sunlight until it cast faint gold patterns across the polished floor.

At the far end, near one of the windows, stood Cody.

(Y/n) recognized him instantly—not from photographs, but because he looked exactly as she imagined he would. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and carried himself with a kind of effortless authority that couldn’t be taught. He wore a high-collared tunic of deep navy and silver, the colors of Alderia, and his hair was neatly cut, though a faint line of stubble softened the sharp angles of his jaw.

He was not handsome in the way of effortless charm, as (Y/n) suspected Rex might be, but there was a gravity about him—something anchored and unyielding, as though he belonged to the very stone of the palace itself.

As she approached, Cody turned, his movements precise, controlled. His gaze landed on her, clear and cool as glass.

“Miss (Y/L/N),” he said. His voice was calm, even polite, but it carried an edge—like a door that wasn’t entirely open. “You’ve come early.”

(Y/n) offered a small, measured smile, hands clasped in front of her. “A good matchmaker learns to value time, Your Highness.”

The faintest flicker of something—perhaps amusement—crossed Cody’s face before it was gone. He nodded to the steward, who gave a bow and silently exited the room, leaving them alone.

“Please.” Cody gestured to a small sitting area by the window where two chairs and a low table waited. “Sit.”

****

(Y/n) took her seat with practiced poise, watching Cody as he moved to sit across from her. He lowered himself into the chair with a sense of measured purpose. It struck her then that everything about him—the way he stood, the way he moved, even the way he sat—was deliberate, as though he had rehearsed every step of his life.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Cody looked at her, not coldly, but with the unblinking focus of someone who was used to examining others. It wasn’t a cruel stare, but it wasn’t kind either. It was… neutral.

“Do you enjoy your room?” he asked finally, the words careful, almost perfunctory.

“Yes, thank you,” (Y/n) replied. “It’s beautiful. I walked the old town yesterday as well. Your planet—your people—are extraordinary.”

“Did you find what you were looking for?” Cody’s tone was light, but the faintest edge of skepticism brushed against it, as though he were testing her.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, folding her hands in her lap. “I wasn’t looking for anything. I was listening.”

That seemed to catch him off guard, though he hid it well. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing just enough for her to notice. “Listening?”

“Yes.” She kept her voice calm, steady, though she chose each word deliberately. “I find that people tell you the most important things when you listen—not just to what they say, but how they say it.”

“Is that how you work?” Cody asked, his gaze steady. “You listen and decide who fits where?”

There it is. The resistance she had expected, the skepticism carefully veiled behind civility. She leaned forward slightly, holding his gaze. “I don’t decide anything, Your Highness. I find connections. The decision is yours.”

His mouth quirked faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “You make it sound simple.”

“It’s not,” (Y/n) said honestly, letting a hint of warmth into her tone. “But neither is ruling a planet, I imagine.”

For the briefest moment, (Y/n) thought she saw a flicker of something real—a weariness that lived beneath his armor—but it disappeared almost instantly. Cody shifted slightly in his chair, straightening, his posture becoming even more rigid.

“I’ll be candid, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, his voice cool. “I didn’t ask for you to come here.”

(Y/n) blinked, the words settling like stones in her chest. “I understand. But you must know why I’m here.”

Cody’s jaw tightened faintly, and his gaze drifted to the window. Outside, the light caught on the snowy peaks of the Jolaris Mountains, and for a moment, he seemed far away. “I know why he brought you here,” he murmured. The way he said it—he—was laced with quiet frustration, though there was no disrespect in it.

“The king,” (Y/n) said softly.

“Yes.” Cody’s gaze snapped back to her, sharp and unwavering. “I know my duty. I’ve known it since I was a child. But I have no interest in parading myself for your lists and your calculations.”

(Y/n) felt her throat tighten, though she refused to let it show. Instead, she smiled—gently, without condescension. “I don’t think you are a man who would ever parade himself, Your Highness.”

That caught him again, though he masked it quickly. For a heartbeat, the two of them simply looked at one another, the quiet stretching like a rope pulled taut. Cody was not unkind, nor was he arrogant—but there was a wall around him, thick and unyielding, built from years of expectation.

***

Finally, he stood, smoothing his hand over the edge of his coat. “I’ll cooperate with my grandfather’s wishes,” he said, his tone measured once more. “But don’t expect me to make it easy.”

(Y/n) rose as well, meeting him at eye level, her expression calm but unwavering. “I never expect anything, Your Highness. I observe. And I listen.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, as though trying to decide whether her words carried sincerity or cleverness. Then he nodded, almost imperceptibly. “Good day, Miss (Y/L/N).”

With that, he turned, his footsteps firm and deliberate as he strode toward the door. (Y/n) let out a slow breath as the latch clicked shut behind him.

The meeting had not been unkind, but it had left her unsettled. Cody was not a man who would ever allow himself to be easily understood, and yet, beneath his quiet resistance, (Y/n) could feel it: the weight of duty pressing against him like stone.

She looked out the window to the Jolaris peaks, watching the sunlight spill across their icy crowns, and wondered how long even a man like Cody could carry such a burden alone.

****

The meeting with Cody lingered in (Y/n)’s mind like a splinter she couldn’t remove. The prince had been courteous, polite even, but distant in a way that left her feeling like a mere afterthought in his day. There had been no warmth to his words, no openness to his gaze—just walls, high and unyielding, built brick by brick from a lifetime of expectation.  

Still, she couldn’t be angry. How could she? Cody wasn’t dismissive out of cruelty but necessity. Duty had shaped him into a man who wore his responsibility like armor, polished to perfection but heavy to bear. *The weight of a crown isn’t always gold,* she thought, as she let her feet carry her down the wide palace hallways.

The corridor she wandered into now seemed different—quieter, with an air of reverence. The faintest echo of her footsteps traveled down the stone walls, and she slowed her pace, the silence urging her to tread softly. This part of the palace, it seemed, belonged to memories. 

***

Paintings lined the walls, gilded frames glowing faintly in the golden light spilling through tall, arched windows. Each canvas was a piece of history frozen in time—kings and queens of Alderia, some stoic, others kind, their eyes following her as she passed. The faces seemed alive, as though they were watching her closely, curious about this stranger who dared walk their halls.

(Y/n) stopped in front of one particular painting. It was a portrait of a young man with blue-gray eyes and a confident, roguish smile. His dark hair was swept back in a way that suggested he hadn’t cared too much for formality. He wore a prince’s coat—rich navy blue, lined with silver—but the way he slouched just slightly told her that the man beneath the clothes had been carefree.  

“Jango,” she whispered under her breath, as though the name might summon the man himself. It had to be him; the resemblance to the current princes was unmistakable.  

Her gaze softened as she took in every detail of the painting, from the hint of mischief in Jango’s smirk to the worn edge of a leather glove on his left hand. *A man who was never meant to be still,* she thought, *and yet here he is.* She wondered how much of him remained in his sons—how much of that fire had been inherited.

She sighed softly, feeling that familiar knot of responsibility tug at her chest. This family, this planet—it was all so much larger than what she could see. And yet here she was, standing in the middle of it.

“Admiring the handsome ones, are we?”

***

The voice broke through the quiet like a spark, warm and teasing, startling (Y/n) just enough that she turned sharply, her breath catching in her throat.  

There, leaning lazily against the stone archway she’d just passed, was **Rex**.  

For a moment, (Y/n) could only blink, as though the man before her had been conjured straight from the painting. He looked startlingly like Jango, though his face was less polished—his jaw was scruffed with golden stubble, and his blond hair was unruly, strands falling stubbornly over his forehead. His posture was relaxed, almost lazy, as though the weight of the world that sat so heavily on Cody’s shoulders didn’t exist here. 

And then there were his eyes—blue-gray like a stormy sea, alive with something (Y/n) couldn’t name.  

“Forgive me,” he said, pushing off the wall and stepping into the light filtering through the window. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your staring contest.”  

(Y/n) found her voice, though it came out more measured than she intended. “I wasn’t staring. I was… observing.”

The corner of Rex’s mouth quirked upward in a half-smile, one brow arching in obvious amusement. “Observation looks a lot like admiration from where I’m standing.”

(Y/n)’s lips pressed together, though she couldn’t help the hint of color that warmed her cheeks. “And you are…?”

He grinned wider at that, as though enjoying her reaction. “I’m Rex,” he said simply, inclining his head in a mock bow. “Second-born spare to the throne of Alderia, expert at sneaking out of meetings I don’t want to attend, and—apparently—the cause of your current blush.”

(Y/n) straightened, smoothing her hands over her cloak as though brushing away the fluster she felt bubbling beneath her calm exterior. “I wasn’t blushing.”

“You’re blushing now,” Rex said, his tone teasing but gentle, his gaze lingering on her face as though he were memorizing it.  

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, regaining her composure. “And I wasn’t staring at you either. I was looking at the painting.”

“Of my father.” Rex’s voice softened just slightly at the mention of Jango, his teasing tone taking on something quieter. (Y/n) glanced up, noticing the way his gaze flicked briefly to the portrait behind her, his smile dimming ever so slightly.  

“Yes,” she said softly. “He seems… remarkable.” 

Rex’s gaze lingered on the painting a moment longer before he looked back at her, his smile returning, though this time it carried something softer—something real. “He was.”

There was a pause—long enough for (Y/n) to feel the air shift between them, subtle but certain. She hadn’t expected this—a meeting so unguarded, so unexpectedly *personal.* For all Rex’s casual charm, there was something in his eyes that she recognized: a quiet depth, a place where lightness gave way to something unspoken.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Rex said finally, breaking the moment but not the connection. “You’re not palace staff, and you don’t look like one of Cody’s political friends.” He tilted his head, curiosity shining through. “Who are you?”

(Y/n) hesitated, feeling that this moment—this first impression—was delicate. It was rare to meet someone who didn’t immediately view her as *the matchmaker*. Rare to meet someone who simply saw her.

“My name is (Y/n) (Y/L/N),” she said carefully, holding his gaze. “And you’re right—I’m not political. I’ve been brought here to… assist.”  

“With what?”

“Your brother.”  

Something flickered across Rex’s face—surprise first, then understanding. His grin returned, slow and unmistakable. “Ah, so you’re the *matchmaker.*”  

The word sat between them, heavy and familiar, but Rex said it without mockery. If anything, there was a hint of intrigue in his tone, as though she’d just become far more interesting.  

(Y/n) nodded, though her expression stayed composed. “I am.”

Rex crossed his arms loosely, one brow arching again. “And how’s that going for you so far?”

(Y/n) allowed herself a small smile, though her thoughts returned to her meeting with Cody—the walls, the formality. “It’s… early.”

Rex chuckled, the sound warm and genuine, as though she’d said something funny without intending to. “That bad, huh?”

“I didn’t say that.”  

“You didn’t have to.” He grinned again, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Cody’s about as easy to talk to as a stone wall, but you’ll get used to him. He’s a good man under all that steel.”

(Y/n) felt a faint tug at the corner of her mouth. “You say that like you’re nothing like him.”

“I’m not,” Rex said with a shrug. “At least, not on the surface.”  

The way he said it made her pause. It was casual, dismissive almost, but (Y/n) could feel the truth woven into it. For all his lightness, for all his charm, there were pieces of Rex that ran far deeper than he let on.

***

Silence settled between them again—not awkward, not tense, but *there*. (Y/n) felt it in her chest, a kind of awareness she couldn’t explain. She studied Rex’s face as though searching for something unspoken, and for a moment, she thought he might be looking for the same in her.  

“Well,” Rex said finally, breaking the quiet with a grin that didn’t quite meet his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to observing things that aren’t me.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes softly, though her smile lingered. “Thank you for your generosity.”

“Anytime.” Rex took a step back, but his gaze lingered on her, his expression thoughtful in a way she hadn’t expected. Then, with a slight nod, he turned and disappeared around the corner, his footsteps soft but steady.

***

(Y/n) let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. Her gaze drifted back to Jango’s painting, but the man in the portrait felt less like the focus now.  

Instead, it was Rex’s face—his grin, his eyes, the way he looked at her like he’d seen something worth remembering—that stayed with her.

And for reasons she couldn’t explain, she felt something shift within herself, subtle but certain—like the first flake of snow before a storm.  

***

### **The Ballroom of Invitations**

The sun dipped low in the Alderian sky, pouring golden light through the palace’s tall, arched windows. (Y/n) sat at a wide desk positioned in one of the palace’s grand halls, a makeshift workspace surrounded by towering shelves of tomes and thick velvet drapes. The room itself had been transformed under her hands: holoscreens hovered in mid-air, glowing softly as they displayed dossiers, planetary maps, and cultural breakdowns. A meticulous array of datapads sat in perfect order on the desk, alongside a steaming cup of tea now long forgotten.

(Y/n)’s brow furrowed slightly as she glanced over her list, her stylus tapping rhythmically against the desk. The names, their titles, their descriptions—it was all beginning to blur together, but she couldn’t afford to overlook even the smallest detail.  

The day had been relentless. Invitations had to be sent across Alderia and beyond: noble daughters from the sprawling estates in the Naldorian Reach, princesses from neighboring systems, and heirs from dignified lineages in far-off star clusters. She’d read through their profiles, cross-referenced family reputations, and considered how they might fit into Alderia’s unspoken rhythm. She had no intention of bringing anyone here who couldn’t understand this place—this *weight.*  

And yet, as she set down the stylus and pressed her fingers to her temples, exhaustion began to settle into her shoulders. The names were only words on a page, and despite her experience—despite her confidence in her ability—she felt a strange unease. *How do you find someone to fit a man like Cody,* she wondered, *when the walls around him are stronger than steel?*  

The room’s silence was punctuated only by the occasional hiss of a hovering holo shutting itself down as she dismissed the final dossier for the day. Satisfied, she leaned back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, the last light of day painting the room in fiery hues of orange and gold. She had done her part. Tomorrow, the nobles and dignitaries would begin arriving, and the task of introductions would begin.  

The sound of slow, deliberate footsteps cut through the quiet.

(Y/n) turned instinctively, her hand lowering from her face as a familiar voice echoed across the marble floor.  

“Well, would you look at this,” Rex drawled, his tone light, teasing, but edged with something more curious. “I thought this was the ballroom. Turns out it’s just the nerve center of a galactic operation.” 

(Y/n) sighed softly, though she couldn’t help the faint tug of a smile at the corner of her lips as Rex stepped further into the room. He wasn’t wearing the finely tailored uniform she’d seen on him yesterday. Instead, he wore something softer—a loose navy tunic rolled at the sleeves and dark trousers, an outfit that made him look far less like a prince and far more like a man at ease with himself. His golden hair was still a mess, as though he’d run his fingers through it carelessly, and his ever-present half-smile suggested that he was always on the brink of mischief.  

“Shouldn’t you be doing something more important?” (Y/n) asked, leaning back slightly as Rex perched himself on the edge of a nearby table, completely unbothered by the papers and datapads spread across its surface.

“I could ask you the same question,” he countered, tilting his head. His gaze lingered briefly on the organized chaos of her work before settling back on her face, sharp and curious. “But judging by all of *this,*” he gestured vaguely to the glowing holoscreens, “it seems you’ve already taken over half the palace.”  

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though her smile lingered. “It’s called preparation. You should try it sometime.”

“Preparation,” Rex repeated, as though testing the word, before shaking his head with a grin. “I prefer improvisation. It’s more fun.”

“I’m sure your tutors loved that.”

“Oh, they adored me,” he replied, his tone deadpan but his grin widening when (Y/n) huffed a soft laugh. “I was their favorite.” 

“Of course you were,” (Y/n) murmured, shaking her head as she began to straighten a few of the datapads before her. She felt Rex watching her, though not in a way that unsettled her. It wasn’t the kind of assessing gaze she had encountered so many times before—calculating, cold, expecting something of her. No, Rex’s gaze was warm, curious, as though he was looking for something *real* in her.  

“You’ve been working all day, haven’t you?” he asked after a moment, his voice softer this time. “I don’t think I’ve seen anyone push this hard since Cody spent a month reorganizing the kingdom’s census data.”

(Y/n) paused, her fingers brushing over the edge of a datapad as she glanced up at him. “It’s important work.”

“I’m sure it is,” Rex replied, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “But it’s also going to be here tomorrow, and the day after that. You, on the other hand, look like you could use a break.”

(Y/n) arched a brow, though her voice remained measured. “And I suppose you’re here to offer one?”

“Exactly.” Rex pushed himself off the table with the easy grace of someone who had never felt out of place in his own skin. “Consider me your palace guide.”

“My *what?*”

“Palace guide,” he repeated, as though the term were perfectly obvious. “You know, someone to show you all the things you’re missing while you’re busy playing matchmaker.” He grinned as he stepped closer, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets. “You’ve seen the ballroom. You’ve seen the library. But have you seen the royal snowball arsenal?”  

(Y/n) blinked. “The what?”

“You heard me,” he said, his grin widening as though he enjoyed her confusion. “It’s top-secret, of course. State-of-the-art construction, unparalleled in firepower. Only the bravest souls dare wield its might.”

(Y/n) stared at him, torn between disbelief and amusement. “You’re joking.”

“I’m *serious*,” Rex replied, his voice low and dramatic, though his eyes sparkled with laughter. “It’s a critical part of the palace defenses during winter. You never know when an ambush might occur.”

Against her better judgment, (Y/n) felt a laugh bubble in her chest—a soft, genuine sound that startled her as much as it seemed to please Rex. “I highly doubt that’s on the palace schematics.”

“That’s because I built it myself,” he said proudly, before extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’m not letting you spend another minute in here surrounded by datapads and dead nobles.”  

(Y/n) hesitated, her gaze flicking between him and her work. For a moment, she considered refusing. There were still messages to send, details to finalize, and she didn’t have the luxury of—  

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Rex said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “It’s just a walk. A little break from the world you’re trying to fix.”

His words settled in her chest, and suddenly, the decision didn’t seem quite so difficult. Slowly, she pushed herself up from her chair and smoothed her cloak, trying not to let him see the small smile pulling at her lips.  

“All right,” she said finally, meeting his gaze. “But if this so-called arsenal doesn’t exist—”

“You’ll never trust me again,” Rex finished with a grin, his voice warm and teasing as he gestured for her to follow. “I’m willing to take that risk.”

(Y/n) shook her head softly, though there was no hiding the faint amusement tugging at her mouth as she followed him toward the hallway.  

She didn’t know what it was about him—this prince who didn’t act like a prince—that unsettled her in ways she couldn’t explain. There was something light about him, as though he carried the weight of the world differently than anyone she had ever met. He made her forget, for just a moment, the impossible task waiting for her tomorrow.

(Y/n) walked alongside Rex through the winding palace halls, her footsteps quick as she tried to match his longer strides. There was something carefree about him, a quiet confidence that made her feel both at ease and on edge all at once. The grandness of the palace around them seemed less imposing with him beside her, the cold stone softened by his lighthearted presence.

“You didn’t tell me where we’re going,” (Y/n) said after a moment, her voice holding a note of suspicion.

Rex turned to glance at her, his mouth quirking upward into a playful smile. “I thought I did. The royal snowball arsenal.”

(Y/n) sighed, though it wasn’t an exasperated sound so much as it was one of reluctant amusement. “You do realize I don’t believe a word of this, right?”

“Trust me, it’s real,” Rex said, his tone mock-serious as they passed yet another corridor. “But before we get there, we have to pass through… enemy territory.”

“Enemy territory?”

Rex’s eyes gleamed with a spark of mischief as they turned a corner into a long, airy hallway. Sunlight streamed in through wide windows, catching the frost-rimmed edges of the glass. Tapestries swayed slightly as cold drafts snuck in through unseen cracks. Something in the air felt... alive.  

(Y/n) slowed slightly, her gaze shifting warily from side to side. “What do you mean by—”

The words hadn’t fully left her mouth before a snowball, perfectly round and startlingly fast, flew from nowhere and hit Rex square in the shoulder.  

“Ambush!” Rex shouted dramatically, staggering back with a hand pressed to his chest as though mortally wounded. “(Y/n)! They’ve got me!”

(Y/n) blinked, wide-eyed, before another snowball arced toward her. She barely managed to duck in time, her heart skipping a beat as it smacked into the wall with a dull thud.  

“Oh, no,” Rex groaned, still clutching his chest in exaggerated agony. “It’s worse than I thought. The twins are here.”

“The what—”

“Boys!” Rex suddenly shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “This is treason! You’re attacking a guest of the palace!”

Laughter, wild and unrepentant, rang out from somewhere above. (Y/n) tilted her head back, searching for its source, and spotted two identical faces peering down from a narrow ledge built into the wall near the ceiling. Both grins were identical—a mix of childlike glee and calculated mischief that only the truly confident could pull off.

“*Treason*?” one of them called back, his voice rich with laughter. “Oh, come now, Rex. That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Only *you* would call it dramatic, Fives,” Rex muttered, brushing snow from his shoulder with a sigh.  

The other twin elbowed his brother lightly, smirking down at (Y/n). “You’re missing the important detail. Who’s this, Rex? She looks… suspiciously dignified for your company.”

(Y/n), who had been frozen in surprise, blinked at the pair of them. They were younger than Rex, perhaps early twenties, with sharp features softened by their shared mischief. Where Rex had golden-blond hair, theirs was a darker shade, more brown with hints of copper that caught the light. And though they were identical in face and voice, there was something subtly different about the way they carried themselves—Fives, the louder of the two, had a sharper edge to his grin, while the other, Echo, watched her with an assessing curiosity that didn’t quite match his brother’s antics.

“I’m (Y/n),” she said finally, brushing a stray snowflake off her coat. “The… matchmaker.”

The twins froze for half a second before Fives barked out a laugh. “The *what*?”

“You heard her,” Rex cut in dryly, crossing his arms as he looked up at them. “She’s here to find Cody the perfect bride.”

Fives groaned dramatically, flopping forward over the ledge so that his arms dangled down. “Poor Cody. He’ll have to practice smiling again.”

Echo shoved Fives’ shoulder, though he smirked faintly. “Ignore him. You’ll find he has a unique talent for talking nonsense.” 

“Unique *and* unmatched,” Fives added smugly, pushing himself upright. “Now, (Y/n)—did Rex tell you about the snowball arsenal? Because you’re standing in it.”

(Y/n) turned sharply to Rex, raising an eyebrow. “This is the arsenal?”

Rex shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Technically, it’s their arsenal. I just like to call it mine.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, Fives lobbed another snowball down, this time aiming for Rex’s head. Rex sidestepped smoothly, the snowball smacking harmlessly into the floor with a wet splat.  

“*Missed.*” Rex smirked, shaking his head as though deeply disappointed.  

“Coward,” Fives retorted. “You’ll have to come up here and fight us properly!”

Echo leaned over the edge, his sharp gaze landing on (Y/n) again. “Unless you’d like to join our side, Miss Matchmaker. Rex tends to lose these battles.”  

(Y/n) looked from one twin to the other, still processing the absurdity of the situation. Here she was, standing in a centuries-old palace, being ambushed by two grown men who looked as though they’d never left their boyhood antics behind. Yet instead of annoyance, she felt the laughter bubbling inside her again—unexpected, uncontrollable.

“This…” she said slowly, unable to stop the smile pulling at her lips, “might be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever witnessed.”

Fives grinned triumphantly. “And the most fun, I bet.”

Rex sighed, though (Y/n) saw the way his own mouth twitched with the effort to suppress a smile. “Congratulations,” he called up to them, his voice dry. “You’ve scared away the matchmaker. Now she’ll run back to the library and tell Cody he’s doomed.”

“Oh, we *like* her,” Fives said, nudging Echo. “She’ll fit in perfectly.”

Echo nodded once, his expression calm but his eyes glinting with mischief. “Be careful, Miss (Y/n). Rex has a habit of pulling people into trouble.”

(Y/n) glanced at Rex, who was now watching her with his arms still crossed, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Rex said smoothly. “They’re just jealous because I’m taller.”

Fives’ outraged “*What?!*” was followed immediately by Echo’s bark of laughter, but (Y/n) didn’t hear it. Her gaze was still on Rex, who was watching her in that same way he had in the hallway the day before—curious, almost searching. It made her stomach flip, though she wasn’t sure why.

“Come on,” Rex said after a beat, offering her his arm as though nothing had happened. “Let’s get out of the line of fire before they bring in reinforcements.”

(Y/n) hesitated for only a second before slipping her hand through his arm. The action felt natural, though it startled her how *easy* it was to be around him.  

“They’re not what I expected,” she murmured as they walked away, the twins’ laughter echoing behind them.

Rex chuckled softly. “They never are.”

(Y/n) glanced up at him, her smile softening. “And what about you, Rex? Are you what people expect?”

Rex looked down at her, his grin faltering for just a moment before returning—softer this time, but not insincere. “Depends on who’s asking.”

(Y/n) said nothing to that, though her hand lingered on his arm a little longer than it needed to.

And neither of them noticed the twins watching from above, their eyes sharp and knowing as they disappeared back into their hiding place.

****

The days fell into an intricate rhythm, one that (Y/n) hadn’t anticipated but found herself adapting to with startling ease. The weight of her work—the lists, the arrangements, the schedules—had grown heavier as the reality of what lay ahead came into sharper focus. In four weeks, the palace would host the grand Christmas ball. The event wasn’t just a glittering celebration; it was a turning point, a moment where the crown prince of Alderia would dance with his possible future bride.

(Y/n) had reviewed the guest list over and over again—princesses, noblewomen, heirs from far-reaching systems. Their faces were etched into her memory, their histories neatly filed away in her mind. Soon, she would meet them in person, would usher them into carefully curated sessions designed to test compatibility, poise, and connection. It was the kind of meticulous work she was accustomed to, the kind that required focus, control, and precision.

But her carefully structured days were being sabotaged. And it was entirely Rex’s fault.

***

(Y/n) leaned over her desk, a furrow creasing her brow as she moved small holocards into neat rows. Each card bore the name of a potential candidate, along with her respective lineage, planetary origin, and other relevant details. The sunlight streaming through the wide window nearby highlighted her deliberate movements—the press of her fingertip against the hovering cards, the slow nod as she considered placements.

“Focused, aren’t we?”

(Y/n) jumped, the voice pulling her sharply out of her thoughts. She turned to find Rex leaning casually in the doorway, arms crossed, his grin unabashed. He was dressed in another simple tunic, this one the color of deep wine, his sleeves pushed up as if to deliberately resist the palace’s insistence on formality. His blond hair was as unruly as ever, as though he’d ridden through a windstorm and hadn’t bothered to fix it.  

“Rex,” (Y/n) sighed, straightening slowly as she tried to school her expression into one of neutrality. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to watch you mumble to yourself about someone named Lady Arla and decide that you need rescuing.” He pushed off the doorway, his boots making a soft sound against the marble floor as he approached.

“I don’t need rescuing.” (Y/n) turned back to her holocards, pretending to be entirely unfazed. “I’m working. You should try it sometime.”

He gave a mock gasp of offense, pressing a hand to his chest as though wounded. “I *do* work. I’m a vital member of this palace.”

(Y/n) rolled her eyes, though a smile threatened to tug at her lips. “Vital for causing chaos, perhaps.”

“Ah, you *do* see my value,” Rex said, grinning as he stepped closer to her desk and leaned forward, peering at the hovering cards with mock interest. “Who’s this? Lady Talia of Serenno?” He prodded at one of the holos, tilting his head. “She looks very… composed.”

“Rex,” (Y/n) warned, though her voice lacked any real bite. She reached to swipe his hand away, but he was faster, sliding the card to the side like a mischievous child.  

“Do you know what you need?” Rex asked, straightening up and turning to face her. His blue-gray eyes gleamed with a spark that made her wary. “A break.”

“I don’t have time for a break,” (Y/n) replied firmly, her hand hovering mid-air as she tried to re-organize the cards. “The Christmas ball is in four weeks, and everything must be perfect.”

“Perfect can wait an afternoon,” he shot back easily, moving to stand between her and her work. “And besides, you’ll work better if you clear your head. I’m taking you to the royal sledding races.”

(Y/n) blinked at him, confused. “The what?”

“Sledding races,” Rex repeated, grinning like a man who had already won. “It’s tradition. Every year around Christmas, we—meaning me, the twins, Jesse, and occasionally Cody—risk life and limb to see who can hurtle themselves down a hill of packed snow the fastest.”

“That doesn’t sound like a royal tradition,” (Y/n) said dryly, folding her arms.

“It’s *our* tradition,” Rex countered, his grin softening slightly. “It started when we were boys, back when Grandfather let us run wild in the snow. Now, it’s a matter of pride.”

“I still don’t see what this has to do with me.”

“You’re coming,” Rex said simply. “As my sledding partner.”

(Y/n) gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

Rex leaned closer, lowering his voice as though sharing a secret. “If you say yes, I promise to leave your work alone for the rest of the day.”

(Y/n) hesitated, narrowing her eyes at him suspiciously. “The rest of the *day*?”

Rex held up his hands, mock-serious. “Scout’s honor.”

(Y/n) sighed, her resolve softening under the sheer weight of his persistence. “Fine. But if I fall off whatever contraption you’re calling a sled, I’ll blame you.”

“Deal,” Rex said cheerfully, already turning toward the door. “Come on, matchmaker. We’ve got a hill to conquer.”

***

The cold hit her first. Crisp and sharp, it nipped at (Y/n)’s cheeks and nose as Rex led her outside onto the sprawling palace grounds. Snow blanketed everything—thick, pristine, and sparkling under the pale light of the Alderian sun. The gardens, so carefully tended, had transformed into a winter wonderland, their fountains frozen into sculptures of ice.

In the distance, (Y/n) spotted a wide hill sloping down toward the forest edge. Its surface had been packed down and smoothed by use, with a handful of sleds—sleek wooden contraptions reinforced with metal runners—lined up at its crest.

Rex led her up the hill, his boots crunching rhythmically through the snow. “All right,” he said once they reached the top, turning to gesture grandly at the sleds. “Behold the crown jewel of Alderian winter sports.”

(Y/n) glanced down the slope and felt her stomach drop. “That looks… steep.”

“Steep makes it fun.” Rex grinned, grabbing one of the sleds and dragging it closer. “Trust me, you’ll love it.”

“Trust you?” (Y/n) asked skeptically, though there was no real resistance in her voice. “That’s asking a lot.”

Rex’s expression softened, though his grin didn’t fade entirely. “You’ll see.”

Before (Y/n) could respond, a shout echoed up from the base of the hill. She turned to see **Fives and Echo** standing in the snow, already halfway down the slope, waving up at them with wild enthusiasm.  

“You’re late, Rex!” Fives called, his voice carrying easily across the open air. “We’ve already claimed victory!”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Rex called back, grinning as he crouched to position the sled. He looked up at (Y/n), extending a hand toward her. “Come on. I’ll steer.”

(Y/n) hesitated, the wind tugging gently at her cloak as she stared at him. There was something in his eyes—something warm, inviting, and completely unguarded—that made it impossible to say no. With a small sigh, she knelt beside him and carefully settled onto the sled, clutching the edge with both hands.

Rex leaned closer, his voice low in her ear. “Hold on tight.”

She barely had time to process the words before the sled lurched forward, the runners gliding smoothly against the packed snow. The wind roared past her ears as they gained speed, the world blurring into a rush of white and blue. (Y/n)’s heart leapt into her throat, and for a split second, she forgot how to breathe.

Then—she laughed.

It bubbled out of her, wild and breathless, a sound that surprised even her as it mingled with Rex’s whoop of triumph. Snow sprayed up around them as the sled tore down the hill, the cold biting at her skin, but it didn’t matter. In that moment, she felt *alive*—as though all the weight she carried had been lifted and scattered to the wind.

At the bottom of the hill, Fives and Echo were waiting, already in the midst of building an impromptu snow barricade. (Y/n) stumbled off the sled, breathless, her cheeks flushed from laughter and cold. Rex stood beside her, grinning, his blond hair dusted with snow.

“You’re smiling,” he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge gone.

(Y/n) blinked up at him, surprised. “I suppose I am.”

High above them, standing at one of the palace windows, **Cody** watched the scene unfold. His arms were crossed loosely over his chest, but his expression was no longer guarded. A faint smile played at the edges of his mouth, his gaze lingering on Rex and (Y/n) as they laughed in the snow. He said nothing, but there was an understanding in his eyes—a quiet recognition of something beginning to bloom.  

He turned away from the window and walked back into the shadows of the palace, his thoughts unspoken, his smile lingering.

Outside, (Y/n) brushed snow from her coat, still breathless as Rex grinned down at her.  

“Ready for another run?” he asked.

(Y/n) shook her head, though her smile remained. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet,” Rex replied, his gaze softening, “here you are.”

Neither of them noticed the way the sun, low on the horizon, painted the snow gold—its light casting long shadows as the day slowly slipped toward evening.

***

The palace was quieter now, its wide corridors muffled by the weight of the morning’s efforts. (Y/n) sat at the far end of the grand dining hall, a quiet corner where no one had yet noticed her absence. The rest of the room still hummed with quiet conversation, the noblewomen and visiting princesses seated in neat rows of polished chairs, sipping delicately at their drinks and speaking in hushed tones that bordered on polite gossip.

Twenty introductions. Twenty carefully planned moments meant to foster connection, ease, and grace.

(Y/n) let out a slow, exhausted breath, her fingertips tracing absent patterns on the linen tablecloth before her. It didn’t go as planned.

It wasn’t a complete disaster, but there were cracks—cracks she hadn’t anticipated. Cody had been polite, almost flawlessly so, but polite wasn’t enough. Politeness lacked warmth. It lacked connection. He had stood stiffly in place like a soldier on parade, greeting each woman with the faintest smile, his words measured and impersonal. He hadn’t engaged, not really, and though none of the women had dared say so aloud, (Y/n) could feel it in their subtle glances and hesitant smiles.

It had been like watching dancers out of step with the music—each one lovely and perfect on their own, but unable to move as one.

And the blame, (Y/n) decided, sat squarely on her shoulders.

You’re supposed to be the best, her mind whispered accusingly. This is what you do. You don’t fail.

She sighed again, rolling her shoulders as though trying to shake off the weight pressing against them. Her tea had gone cold hours ago, and her appetite was nowhere to be found. She stared blankly out the wide windows to her left, where sunlight spilled in golden shafts across the far mountains.

“Are you hiding, or do you just like brooding in corners?”

(Y/n)’s head snapped up, startled by the sudden voice cutting through her thoughts. Rex stood at the edge of the table, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, that ever-present spark of mischief in his eyes. He tilted his head as he regarded her, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles.

“I’m not hiding,” (Y/n) said defensively, sitting up straighter and smoothing her hands over her skirt. “And I certainly don’t brood.”

“Ah.” Rex nodded thoughtfully as though he didn’t believe a word of it. “That explains the tragic sighing and staring dramatically into the middle distance. Very dignified.”

“Rex…” (Y/n) began, but he cut her off by sliding into the chair across from her without waiting for an invitation.

“Let me guess,” he said, leaning back with an almost lazy confidence. “The meetings didn’t go well.”

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes at him, though there was no real heat behind it. “You weren’t even there.”

“I didn’t have to be.” Rex shrugged, his gaze lingering on her face, softer now, more observant. “You’re sitting here with the same look Cody wears after reading a hundred tax reports. That’s a bad sign.”

(Y/n) let out a quiet, reluctant laugh—short and breathless—but it was enough to ease some of the tightness in her chest. “It wasn’t a disaster,” she admitted, folding her arms on the table, “but it didn’t go the way I’d hoped.”

Rex’s smile dimmed slightly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the edge of the table. “Let me guess,” he said, his voice gentler now, though the teasing lilt hadn’t fully left. “Cody was… Cody.”

(Y/n) pressed her lips into a thin line and nodded. “Polite but distant. He treated the entire process like a military inspection.”

“Sounds about right.” Rex sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair. “Don’t take it personally. Cody’s not great at being himself in rooms full of strangers.”

(Y/n) looked at him curiously. “And what is he like when he is himself?”

Rex paused, his expression thoughtful as though he hadn’t quite expected the question. “Quiet,” he said after a moment. “Steady. He’s the man you want beside you in a storm because he’ll never waver. But he keeps his heart close to the chest. Too close, sometimes.”

(Y/n) tilted her head, her fingers toying with the edge of the tablecloth. “That’s what I’m afraid of,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “That he won’t let anyone in.”

Rex studied her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as though seeing her more clearly than she’d like. “You care,” he said finally, the words quiet but certain.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard. “Of course I care. It’s my job.”

“No,” Rex said softly, shaking his head. “It’s more than that.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest, but Rex was already standing, his chair scraping softly against the floor. “Come on.”

She frowned up at him. “Come on where?”

“You need cheering up,” Rex replied matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything. “And I’ve got just the thing.”

“Rex, I have work—”

“Your work will still be here when you get back.” He held out a hand to her, his grin returning, though there was something warm and steady about it now. “Trust me.”

(Y/n) stared at his outstretched hand for a long moment, torn between the pull of her responsibilities and the spark of curiosity he always managed to ignite in her. Finally, with a quiet sigh, she placed her hand in his and let him pull her to her feet.

“You’re relentless,” she muttered as he led her out of the dining hall.

“You’ll thank me later,” Rex replied confidently.

***

Rex led her outside the palace and down a narrow, snow-dusted stone path that wound between tall hedges and towering fir trees. The air was sharp and clear, carrying the faint, distant sound of bells—somewhere, far off, the palace staff were likely preparing for the holidays.

(Y/n) let herself be guided, her curiosity mounting with every step. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” Rex said, glancing back at her with that mischievous glint in his eye that she was beginning to recognize all too well.

Finally, they emerged into an open space—a secluded garden tucked into a hollow beside the palace walls. (Y/n) stopped in her tracks, her breath catching softly in her chest.

The garden was alive with light. The snow-covered hedges had been strung with soft golden lanterns that glowed like captured stars, and beneath them, scattered throughout the frost-touched earth, grew winter roses. Their petals were pale white tinged with the faintest blush of pink, each bloom seeming almost unreal against the snow.

(Y/n) stepped forward slowly, the sound of her boots muffled by the thick powder. She knelt beside one of the flowers, brushing her fingers delicately against its petals. It was soft—unexpectedly so—and still warm with life despite the frost surrounding it.

“You don’t often see these,” Rex said quietly, standing just behind her. “They only bloom when the nights are cold and the moons hang low. They say the winter rose can survive where nothing else can.”

(Y/n) glanced back at him, her voice soft. “It’s beautiful.”

Rex watched her closely, his expression uncharacteristically serious. “I thought you’d like it.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was full—filled with something unspoken, something that hummed softly beneath the surface like the slow bloom of a winter rose.

“You brought me here to see this?” (Y/n) finally asked, turning fully to face him.

Rex shrugged, though his grin was gentler now, his gaze steady. “You’ve spent all day carrying the weight of the palace on your shoulders. I figured you deserved something beautiful.”

(Y/n) stared at him, her heart skipping in a way that made her uneasy. She had known men who could speak in charm alone, but Rex… he said things as though he meant them, as though his words carried weight he didn’t expect her to see.

“Thank you,” she said softly, the words feeling small but sincere.

Rex held her gaze for another long moment before grinning again, the familiar glint returning to his eyes. “Come on. There’s a fire pit at the far end of the garden. I’ll even let you warm your hands while I find some spiced cider.”

(Y/n) shook her head with a quiet laugh, following him as he turned. But as they walked deeper into the glow of the lanterns, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted between them—softly, quietly, like snow falling in the night.

And for once, she didn’t mind it at all.

***

From a window high in one of the palace towers, Cody stood in silence, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. The firelight from within the room barely reached him, leaving him half in shadow, but he didn’t need light to see what unfolded below.

The garden glowed softly, a golden pocket of warmth against the snow-covered grounds, and in its center, he spotted them. Rex and (Y/n).

Cody’s gaze lingered on them—on the way Rex turned back slightly to check that (Y/n) was following, on the faint laugh that drifted up, too soft to fully reach him but audible enough to let him imagine its sound. Rex had that look about him again—the kind of light in his eyes Cody hadn’t seen in years, not since they were children racing sleds down the hills without a care in the world.

(Y/n) walked beside him, her posture softer than Cody had ever seen it. Her usual composure, her air of determination and restraint, had given way to something quieter—something more… real.

Cody’s lips curved into the faintest smile, though it was tinged with something deeper, something thoughtful. His brother had always had a way of finding light in unexpected places, of dragging it with him like a spark through darkness.

And (Y/n)? Well, she had been so consumed by her careful plans—her lists and responsibilities—that Cody doubted she’d allowed herself to breathe in years.

As he watched them disappear deeper into the garden, the lantern light dappling across their figures like scattered starlight, Cody shook his head faintly to himself.

“Rex…” he murmured under his breath, though there was no reprimand in the word. Only quiet acknowledgment.

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly as he turned from the window, the shadows swallowing him again as he walked back toward the heart of the palace.

Perhaps, he thought, the best things in life weren’t meant to be planned.

For all the planning, for all the meticulous work (Y/n) had done, perhaps the one thing she hadn’t planned for was the thing that mattered most.

Unexpected love.

Cody’s smile lingered as he turned away from the window, leaving the scene below to play out as it would.

***

In the solitude of the west tower, beyond the hustle of the palace’s daily movements, **King Jaster** stood by a wide, arched window, the heavy velvet drapes drawn back to allow the fading light of dusk to stream in. The winter air carried a hush outside, as though the world itself had paused to listen.

He said nothing at first, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the glowing garden below. The lanterns illuminated the space with a soft, golden warmth, their light dancing across the snow and reflecting off the pale petals of the winter roses. In the center of the glow, two figures moved slowly—Rex, with his easy, unhurried strides, and (Y/n), following with a quiet grace.  

There was laughter down there. Jaster couldn’t hear it, but he could see it—Rex turning to speak, (Y/n) tilting her head back just slightly, her lips forming a smile that softened her entire demeanor. The boy had that gleam again, the light he’d carried as a child when his feet ran faster than he could keep up with, when his laughter filled the palace halls and made it feel alive.  

“Hmm,” came the low murmur of a familiar voice from behind him. “Young Rex… cheerful, he is. Bright, the boy shines.”  

Jaster didn’t turn as Yoda stepped up beside him, his short stature meaning his head just barely reached the bottom of the windowsill. The old advisor, gnarled and wise, had been at Jaster’s side for as long as he could remember. Through wars and peace, through grief and recovery, Yoda had been an anchor—his quiet words carrying more weight than all the councils in the galaxy combined.  

“He’s happy,” Jaster said softly, his deep voice quieter than usual, as though afraid to disturb the moment below. “I haven’t seen him like this in years.”

“Long has it been,” Yoda replied, his tone calm but edged with knowing. “The burdens they carry, heavier than they should be. All of them. Cody, Rex… the twins… Jesse.”  

Jaster inclined his head faintly, his gaze not wavering from the scene below. “Too heavy.”  

Yoda’s ears flicked slightly as he looked up at the king, his ancient green face unreadable but his eyes sharp and knowing. “Hm. Yet, warmth finds them. The unexpected blooms when left untended.” He tilted his head toward the window, gesturing faintly with one clawed hand. “Like the winter rose.”

Jaster turned slightly at that, his weathered brow furrowing. “What are you saying?”

“Observe them, did you not?” Yoda murmured, his tone faintly teasing as his wise eyes twinkled in the dim light. “A flame burns there, quiet but certain. Like moonlight on snow.”

Jaster looked back at the garden, his sharp blue gaze lingering on his grandson and the woman who walked beside him. He watched the way Rex looked at her—an unguarded glance, fleeting but honest. The way (Y/n)’s shoulders had relaxed, as though for the first time, the weight of her purpose had been temporarily lifted.  

“You think…” Jaster began, trailing off before the words could leave him fully.  

“Think? Hmm.” Yoda chuckled softly, a sound like wind rustling through dry leaves. “Know, I do not. But hope? Ah, yes.” He gave a small nod, his voice dropping to a thoughtful murmur. “Hope can grow where nothing else will.”

Jaster said nothing for a long moment, his weathered face thoughtful as the firelight from the lanterns below danced faintly in his eyes. He had known love—had held it in his hands, in his family, and had watched it be torn away too soon. For years now, the palace had carried shadows, held together by duty and resolve. And yet…  

As Rex and (Y/n) disappeared further into the garden, their figures framed by golden light and snow-dusted roses, Jaster felt something shift—a tiny crack in the stone walls built around them all.

“Perhaps,” Jaster said finally, his voice low, as though admitting it to himself more than to Yoda, “the galaxy hasn’t taken everything from us yet.”  

“Hm.” Yoda tilted his head knowingly. “Faith, my friend. When least expected, life always finds a way.”

Jaster looked down at the old Jedi, his lips quirking faintly—just the smallest hint of a smile. “You always say that.”

“And right, I always am.” Yoda’s shoulders lifted in what might have been a shrug, his expression as wry as ever.  

Jaster let out a low, thoughtful hum, his gaze drifting back to the window. The lanterns in the garden glowed against the darkening sky, a pocket of warmth and light in the cold. And below, unseen by the rest of the world, something fragile and precious had begun to grow.

For the first time in years, Jaster allowed himself to hope.  

And beside him, Yoda smiled faintly, the ancient weight of his wisdom carried lightly, as though he, too, had been waiting for this moment.  

“Watch closely, we will,” Yoda murmured softly, his voice a quiet promise. “For blooms like this… rare they are.”

***

(Y/n) stood at the head of the grand hall, its wide expanse already buzzing with quiet anticipation. Sunlight poured through the tall, latticed windows, illuminating the polished marble floors in soft golden beams. She’d spent the better part of her morning organizing yet another round of introductions for Cody and the invited ladies, but today, she was determined to shift the dynamic.

(Y/n) glanced down at her clipboard—a tightly organized grid of names, pairings, and locations. She had carefully plotted this: dividing the suitors among Cody’s cousins and brothers. Her logic was sound—if Cody didn’t feel the full weight of the proceedings on his shoulders, if he weren’t the sole focus of every woman’s attention, perhaps he would loosen up, even if just a little.

And she had managed to secure volunteers—or perhaps unwitting participants—from the extended royal family: Wolffe, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Hunter, and, of course, Rex and the twins.

(Y/n) glanced at the gathered men now, standing in a loose, uneven cluster. Most of them looked like they were bracing for battle.

“Let me get this straight,” Wolffe said, arms crossed tightly over his chest as his piercing gaze scanned the clipboard (Y/n) held. The eldest of the cousins, his air of authority was impossible to miss, though there was something sardonic about him, as if he found life amusing in the most infuriating ways. “You want us to… what? Escort the suitors around and make polite conversation?”

“Yes,” (Y/n) said, keeping her tone professional and unwavering, though Wolffe’s skeptical stare made her throat tighten slightly. “The idea is to lighten the atmosphere, give Cody some breathing room, and allow the ladies to interact with all of you as well.”

“Babysitting duty,” Hunter muttered with an arched brow. His dark hair was tied back at the nape of his neck, and his sharp, observant eyes missed nothing. There was a kind of quiet patience about him, though (Y/n) had a feeling he was assessing the entire situation like a battlefield.

“It’s not babysitting,” (Y/n) replied, though she could already hear the skepticism in their silence. “Think of it as… social diplomacy.”

Kix, the palace medic and the most even-tempered of the group, raised a hand slightly, as though waiting his turn. “And what exactly are we supposed to do with them?” he asked, his voice calm but edged with resignation.

(Y/n) tilted her head slightly, as though to reassure him. “Talk to them. Ask about their home systems. Be… friendly.”

“Friendly,” Waxer repeated, exchanging a grin with Boil beside him. The two cousins—more laid-back than their older counterparts—were already nudging each other like schoolboys in the back of the classroom. “How friendly are we talking here?”

“Polite friendly,” (Y/n) clarified quickly, narrowing her eyes at the pair. “Not ‘charming mischief’ friendly.”

“Aw, where’s the fun in that?” Boil muttered, though the grin on his face suggested he had no intention of causing trouble. Probably.

Rex, standing a little to the side, looked far too pleased with the entire situation. “I think it’s a brilliant plan,” he said with a grin, his hands tucked lazily into his pockets. “Let’s see if Cody actually cracks a smile this time.”

“It’s not for entertainment, Rex,” (Y/n) shot back, though the faint smirk he offered in return made it impossible to stay frustrated with him.

“Of course not,” Rex said smoothly. “But I’m still looking forward to seeing what happens.”

***

(Y/n) exhaled, turning to face Cody, who stood nearby with his usual air of composed reluctance. He had been quiet the entire time, his gaze fixed somewhere on the floor, as though trying to mentally escape the moment.

“Your Highness,” (Y/n) said gently, addressing him directly. “I believe this will help. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone.”

Cody looked at her for a long moment, his face unreadable. Then, with a faint nod that could almost pass as agreement, he muttered, “We’ll see.”

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

***

The first half of the morning went surprisingly well. (Y/n) allowed herself a sliver of pride as she observed the scene unfolding in the grand hall. Small clusters of suitors and royal men dotted the room, conversations flowing, and the atmosphere felt… lighter.

Wolffe, to her surprise, stood with an elegant brunette in deep violet, listening attentively as she explained her family’s long-held traditions. Kix had drawn a small circle of women around him, undoubtedly sharing medical stories that (Y/n) hoped weren’t too graphic. Hunter, quiet as ever, was paired with a sharp-witted lady from Alderaan, whose animated conversation seemed to amuse him in spite of himself.

Even Cody, while still stiff, looked far less burdened with Rex standing beside him—no doubt helping to steer the conversation with easy charm.

(Y/n) was just beginning to relax when she noticed Fives and Echo, far too still and far too quiet, near one of the grand hall’s archways. It sent a warning tingle up her spine.

“What are they…” she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make sense of their suspiciously innocent expressions.

Fives’ shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing a laugh. Echo’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling for a fraction of a second before returning to the small group of women they were entertaining.

The ceiling.

(Y/n) froze, her gaze snapping upward.

She saw it just in time. A large net, strung with bundles of artificial snow—feathers and fine powder—dangled from the chandelier above the center of the room.

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

It was too late. Fives grinned suddenly—bright and unrepentant—as he yanked something from his pocket. Echo turned just in time to give (Y/n) an apologetic shrug.

The net released.

Snow—soft, powdery, and absurdly voluminous—exploded from the ceiling, cascading down like a sudden blizzard. Gasps and shrieks of laughter erupted across the hall as women and royals alike were buried under the unexpected deluge.

(Y/n)’s jaw dropped as Rex burst into a peal of laughter, nearly doubling over as he watched the chaos unfold. Wolffe let out a low, irritated groan as snow settled in his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his coat.

“Fives!” (Y/n) shouted, her voice rising above the noise as she marched toward the twins, who were already trying to escape toward the hallway. “Echo! What did I say about behaving?”

“Technically,” Fives called back as he darted past Rex, who was still laughing, “we’re enhancing the atmosphere!”

“Yeah!” Echo chimed in, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at Waxer, who had joined in the chaos. “It’s festive!”

Rex, tears of laughter in his eyes, straightened enough to throw a look at (Y/n), who now stood with her hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I told you—friendly mischief.”

“You’re all impossible!” (Y/n) snapped, though she couldn’t stop the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

****

From where he stood near the edge of the hall, Cody brushed snow off his coat, his expression unreadable. A faint dusting of powder clung to his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward (Y/n), who stood in the center of the chaos. Her hands were still on her hips, her expression half-scolding, half-amused as she watched Rex and the twins with exasperated affection.

Cody’s lips twitched—the barest flicker of a smile. It was brief and small, but it softened the lines of his face, made his shoulders relax.

For all the weight on her shoulders, for all her determination to keep everything perfect, (Y/n) made the palace feel alive again.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned quietly toward the hall’s exit, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

****

In the corner of the hall, Rex caught (Y/n)’s eye, a mischievous grin still lingering as he dusted snow off his sleeves. “You’ve got to admit,” he called over the noise, “it is festive.”

(Y/n) groaned, but even as she shook her head, she couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

***

The day broke gently over Alderia, sunlight glinting off the frost-touched landscape like a painter’s brush had scattered silver across the world. The palace, still waking in quiet elegance, seemed to stretch its limbs as a fresh wave of crisp air flowed in from the mountains.

(Y/n) had taken her breakfast in the dining room again, seated at the far end of the enormous table. A modest spread had been laid before her, and though the tea was fragrant and the pastries warm, she found herself picking at the edges of her meal, her mind lingering stubbornly on the day’s agenda.

The introductions from the previous day replayed themselves in an endless loop—Cody’s polite stiffness, the carefully orchestrated smiles of the suitors, the pauses that stretched too long, heavy with unsaid words. You planned for everything, (Y/n) thought bitterly. And yet here we are.

She was about to lift her cup for a sip when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. (Y/n) flinched, startled, and looked up to see Rex sliding into the seat across from her with the kind of careless ease that only he could pull off. He looked far too energetic for someone who had no reason to be awake so early.

“Good morning,” he said, with a grin that was altogether too bright for the hour.

(Y/n) sighed, placing her cup back down. “Rex. Do you ever not appear out of nowhere?”

“I like to think of it as being punctual,” Rex replied, reaching for a fresh roll from the basket at the center of the table. He tore it in half with practiced ease, popping a piece into his mouth before glancing at her pointedly. “Though you look like you’ve been sitting here arguing with your thoughts for the better part of an hour.”

“I’m not arguing,” (Y/n) replied, though the tightness in her tone betrayed her frustration.

“Oh?” Rex tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Planning, then. You do a lot of that.”

“It’s my job.” She picked at the edges of her napkin, willing herself to focus on anything other than his direct gaze. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of—”

“Of what?” he interrupted gently, though there was no teasing in his voice this time. “Forgetting that life isn’t made of plans?”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue but found no words. The observation hit too close to home, as Rex’s usually did. He watched her for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, draping an arm casually across the backrest.

“All right, enough of this,” he said decisively. “You’re coming with me.”

(Y/n) frowned, blinking. “What?”

“Out. A ride.”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “A ride? On horses?”

Rex grinned, already victorious. “What else? Fresh air, open land, the whole countryside to ourselves.”

“Rex, I don’t have time for—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, though his tone remained maddeningly calm. “(Y/n), if I let you sit here another hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that table with how hard you’re frowning. Trust me—there’s more to this planet than ballroom introductions and checklists. Let me show you.”

There it was again—that impossible pull he always managed to have on her. She stared at him for a long moment, debating, trying to hold on to her resolve. But something in the way he looked at her—earnest and insistent but never forceful—made the words fall flat on her tongue.

With a heavy sigh, she relented. “Fine. One hour.”

“One hour,” he agreed, though the grin he gave her said he already considered it a full victory. “Stables in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

The air outside was crisp, the kind of winter morning where every breath felt clean and sharp against the lungs. Snow still dusted the palace grounds, glistening under the rising sun, though it had begun to melt in places where the trees offered a break from the frost.

(Y/n) stood by the royal stables, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the horses being saddled. She hadn’t ridden in years—not since she was a child on Coruscant, where the rare few riding paths were carefully controlled and more for show than anything else.

Rex, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stood beside a tall, dapple-gray stallion, stroking its neck with practiced hands. His sleeves were pushed up again, the cold seemingly not bothering him in the slightest, and a faint smile played on his lips as he whispered to the horse in low, soothing tones.

“You look far too comfortable,” (Y/n) said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Rex looked up, flashing her an easy smile. “This is my element.”

“And here I thought mischief was your element.”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby.” Rex winked before turning to gesture toward the horse being brought to her—a sleek chestnut mare with a kind, intelligent face. “This is Aurora. She’s gentle but spirited. You’ll get along just fine.”

(Y/n) eyed the horse warily. “I’m not so sure.”

Rex stepped closer, his tone softening. “She won’t let you fall. And neither will I.”

There was something in the way he said it—earnest, quiet—that made (Y/n)’s throat tighten slightly. She allowed herself a breath before nodding and letting one of the stable hands help her into the saddle.

***

The wind whistled softly as (Y/n) pulled her borrowed cloak closer, the thick fabric shielding her from the lingering winter chill. The horses moved in steady rhythm beneath them, their hooves crunching softly through the light blanket of snow that covered the rolling meadows beyond the palace. Rex rode just a pace ahead of her, completely at ease, his posture loose and natural as though he belonged to this land.

(Y/n), though less confident, managed to keep Aurora, the gentle chestnut mare, moving smoothly alongside him. She focused on the sound of the horses, on the wide openness of the space stretching out before her—fields and valleys edged with frost, dotted by the dark outlines of evergreens.

It had been years since she’d felt anything like this—open air, the rush of motion, the world wide enough that it felt like it could swallow every weight she carried.

“I told you this would be better than staring at your tea,” Rex called over his shoulder, the wind carrying his voice to her like a song on the breeze.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right—yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still deciding.”

Rex laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “You’ll come around.” He slowed his horse slightly so that they rode side by side. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world quiet except for the rhythm of hooves and the faint creak of leather saddles.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. “You seem… happy out here,” she observed quietly.

Rex looked ahead, his smile softening. “I am.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the snow-dusted hills in the distance. “Because out here, I don’t have to be anything but myself,” he said finally. “There’s no one expecting me to play a role or fill a gap. I’m just… Rex.”

(Y/n) watched him, her fingers curling tighter around the reins. “And in the palace?”

“In the palace,” he said with a faint sigh, “I’m the spare. The second. The one who fills the space around the crown.” He turned to her then, his storm-colored eyes holding hers. “I don’t mind it, not really. Cody was born for it. But sometimes… it feels like there’s nothing else for me to be.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, as though the world itself had stopped to listen. (Y/n) hesitated before speaking, her voice soft.

“I understand that,” she murmured.

Rex raised a brow. “You do?”

(Y/n) looked forward, letting her gaze drift to the open expanse of white and gold. “I’ve spent so much time helping others find love—building connections, crafting perfect matches—that I stopped looking for myself. It’s as though I’m… watching from the outside. Always watching.”

There was no pity in Rex’s gaze, only understanding. “And have you ever… wanted it?”

(Y/n) let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, though it caught in her throat. “I wouldn’t know what to want. Love, as I’ve seen it, always seems so… chaotic. And yet, it’s the one thing everyone wants. It’s the thing they can’t live without.”

“And you?” Rex asked quietly.

(Y/n) turned to him, her expression soft but guarded. “I guess I’ve never felt I deserved it.”

Rex blinked, as though the confession had knocked something loose inside him. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” (Y/n) countered, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“Because I’ve seen you,” Rex said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re always the one holding everything together—steady and sure, even when it’s not your burden to carry. You deserve more than just watching.”

The words hung between them, raw and unguarded, until Rex gave her a crooked, disarming smile. “Besides,” he added, lightening his tone, “chaos isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding quietly in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she looked back out at the open meadow.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest spark of hope—quiet and fragile but impossible to ignore.

As they rode on, Rex glanced at her again, the edges of his smile softer now, less teasing. He didn’t say anything more, but something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a connection.

Neither of them knew where it would lead.

But for now, it was enough.

***

(Y/n) paced the length of the ballroom with her clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The room, dressed in restrained elegance, was set for the next phase of introductions—an opportunity for each of the noblewomen and princesses to spend an uninterrupted hour with Cody. It was (Y/n)’s hope that the structured intimacy would allow for a deeper connection, perhaps even help Cody find some common ground with at least one of them.

The tables had been arranged with meticulous care, adorned with soft floral arrangements and tea sets laid out on embroidered linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth diffusing the chill in the room. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bathing the grand space in gold, as if the day itself wanted to encourage success.

(Y/n)’s preparations were flawless—as always.

And yet, deep in her chest, a nagging sense of unease lingered.

The suitors, elegantly dressed and seated in the antechamber, were perfect on paper. Beautiful, poised, intelligent, and well-spoken. But perfection, (Y/n) knew all too well, could often feel hollow. And she was beginning to fear that hollow was exactly what Cody would find in each of them.

“Everything looks… unnecessarily perfect,” Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts, lighthearted and teasing as ever.

(Y/n) startled slightly, turning to find him lounging against one of the window frames, arms crossed and the familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. He looked too at ease for someone standing amidst her painstakingly crafted setting—like he belonged in chaos more than polished order.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock reproach.

“Why not? I’m helping.” He pushed off the frame, strolling toward her with the easy gait that she had come to know far too well.

“Helping?” (Y/n) scoffed, though her tone held no real irritation. “You’ve spent the last week interrupting my work.”

“Interrupting,” Rex corrected, as though it were a badge of honor, “is a form of assistance. It keeps you from overthinking everything.”

“I don’t overthink,” (Y/n) shot back defensively, clutching her clipboard just a little tighter.

Rex grinned, clearly delighted to see her bristling. “You’re overthinking right now.”

(Y/n) sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “If you’re here to derail my plans, you’re too late. Everything is set. Each of the women will have an hour alone with Cody today. That’s their time to make an impression.”

Rex gave an exaggerated wince as he surveyed the ballroom. “Alone with Cody? You’re asking for trouble.”

(Y/n) frowned, brow furrowing as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen him,” Rex replied casually, leaning against the back of one of the chairs and watching her with an amused expression. “The man treats these introductions like he’s attending a military tribunal. Straight back, stiff smile, saying as little as humanly possible.”

(Y/n) sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know. But this is important, Rex. He needs to—”

“Relax?” Rex interrupted, his grin widening when she shot him a glare. “(Y/n), you’ve set up the perfect stage, but you can’t force chemistry. That’s the problem. You’re trying to plan love.”

“That’s my job!” she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if she were exasperated with herself more than him. “And it’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

Rex straightened slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s never simple. But you can’t make someone feel something they don’t.”

The truth of his words settled in (Y/n)’s chest like a heavy stone, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She knew he was right. As much as she hoped to create the perfect conditions, connection wasn’t something that could be controlled. It either happened or it didn’t.

***

From her vantage point in the shadows of the ballroom, Lady Mara watched with the stillness of a predator. Her keen gaze never wavered as it settled on (Y/n) and Rex, the young woman’s flustered reaction to Rex’s teasing and the unmistakable warmth in his gaze as he lingered near her.

It was subtle, but Mara saw it—she always saw it. The way Rex leaned just slightly too close, the softness of his smile when (Y/n) wasn’t looking, the flicker of hesitation in (Y/n)’s eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them.

But Mara knew.

Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her shawl, the fabric brushing softly against her gloves as her lips pressed into a thin line. She had spent too many years waiting—watching—as Jaster’s grandsons grew into men, as they carried the titles and power that should have been hers.

She had been patient—oh, so patient—ever since the day Jango, her brother’s favored son, had taken everything from her. The throne, the future she had so carefully planned, had all been ripped away like a cruel twist of fate. When Jango died, she had thought it her time at last—her chance to step into the light and claim what was rightfully hers. But Jaster had refused to bend. He had raised Jango’s sons like the kings they were never meant to be, tightening his grip on the crown, solidifying his dynasty.

Now here she stood, in a palace that should have been hers, watching Jaster’s precious grandsons ruin everything. Rex, of all people—reckless, charming, unpredictable Rex—had begun to slip through her carefully laid cracks.

Her dark eyes swept back to (Y/n), the matchmaker. She was supposed to be here to solve the problem of Cody’s disinterest, yet somehow, she had become the problem herself. Mara saw the quiet connection between her and Rex beginning to form—fragile, unspoken, but growing like ivy on an ancient wall. It wasn’t merely an inconvenience; it was dangerous.

Mara’s nails dug into the soft fabric of her glove as she turned away from the ballroom. She moved silently, her skirts whispering along the floor as she stepped out into the quieter hallway beyond.

*** 

Mara strode purposefully down the shadowed corridor, her mind whirling with thoughts. The palace was alive with movement—the footsteps of servants, the murmur of distant voices—but Mara walked through it all like a ghost, unseen and unnoticed.

She couldn’t allow this. Not again.

Jaster’s sons had already stolen too much from her. She wouldn’t stand idle while they found love and strength to secure their power. A royal marriage, the forging of alliances—that would cement their place for generations to come, locking her and her line into the cold shadows of obscurity.

No.

Her gaze hardened as she turned a corner, entering a smaller study tucked away from the bustle of the main palace. She paused near the window, staring out at the snow-draped gardens below, where faint lantern light still flickered from the winter rose beds.

Rex, she thought bitterly, his name curling on her tongue like ash. He was too much like his father—too carefree, too charming. But unlike Jango, he was reckless. Mara could use that. His unpredictability could be turned against him, twisted to tarnish the reputation he carried.

And (Y/n)…

Mara’s lips curled faintly. The matchmaker was earnest and focused, but it made her predictable. A woman so busy trying to fit the world into neat little boxes couldn’t see a storm forming until it was too late.

***

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.

“Enter,” she said smoothly, turning just as the heavy door creaked open and one of her most trusted attendants, a man named Luthar, slipped inside. He was a wiry man, his presence shadowed and unassuming, but his loyalty to Lady Mara was unquestionable.

“You summoned me, my lady?” Luthar’s voice was low and deferential.

“Yes,” Mara replied, her tone calm, measured. She gestured for him to step closer, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I need you to watch someone for me.”

Luthar inclined his head. “Who?”

“The matchmaker,” Mara said smoothly, folding her hands in front of her. “(Y/n) (Y/L/N). I want to know her movements. Who she speaks with. Who she trusts.”

Luthar gave a slight bow. “And the prince?”

“Rex,” Mara said softly, almost to herself, as though tasting the name on her tongue. “Keep an eye on him as well. He’s grown… distracted. That distraction could prove useful.”

Luthar hesitated, his gaze flickering with unspoken curiosity. “And if something should arise?”

Mara’s expression hardened, the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Then you’ll inform me immediately. I’ll handle it.”

Luthar bowed again before slipping from the room as silently as he had entered.

****

Once she was alone again, Mara turned back to the window, her gaze sweeping the snow-covered grounds below. The garden was quiet now, but she could still see it in her mind: (Y/n) and Rex, walking beneath the lanterns, their laughter drifting up through the cold night air.

It was fragile.

Too fragile to last, she thought. And she would ensure it didn’t.

Jaster had stolen her crown. His grandsons had stolen her legacy.

But love?

Love was a fire she could extinguish before it ever had the chance to burn.

With that thought, she turned sharply, the rustle of her skirts echoing through the empty room. Lady Mara, patient and cunning, would not be ignored any longer.

***

As the morning passed, oblivious to the dark intentions brewing in the shadows, Rex found (Y/n) once again—this time in the library, surrounded by books and notes.

“Still working?” he teased, leaning against a nearby bookshelf with a grin that was far too casual.

(Y/n) looked up, startled, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m always working. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

Rex grinned, pushing off the bookshelf to sit on the edge of the table, far too close for propriety’s comfort. “You should take a break. I hear there’s a lovely view from the gardens around this time.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her cheeks warming faintly, though she tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped at his nearness. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep me around,” Rex replied, his voice softening as his teasing smile melted into something quieter.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

In that moment, as their eyes met and lingered, she felt it—the shift. The fragile thread of something unspoken, growing stronger with every breath they shared.

And just beyond the warmth of the library walls, Lady Mara watched, unseen and waiting, the storm she intended to unleash already beginning to gather.

****

### **The Dance Lessons**  

The ballroom gleamed in soft afternoon light, its wide marble floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vast space echoed with anticipation—servants hurrying to finish preparations, chairs tucked neatly against the far wall, fresh garlands of winter roses hanging from the tall archways. 

(Y/n) stood at the center of it all, a clipboard in her hand and tension in her shoulders as she surveyed the day’s task. *Dance lessons.* It was the logical next step—graceful movement, light conversation, an easy way to break the icy formality between Cody and the suitors. She had coordinated every detail: music selections, the layout, the schedule, and, of course, the “volunteers” she had roped in to serve as dance partners.  

**Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Hunter, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo** stood at varying levels of discomfort near the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in their finest tunics—boots polished, collars starched—and wearing expressions that ranged from resigned to outright rebellious.  

“This is ridiculous,” Wolffe muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze swept the room. “I’m not a dance instructor.”  

“You’re *helping,*” (Y/n) replied crisply, flipping through her notes to keep herself from snapping back. “You’ll all partner with the ladies who haven’t yet had a chance to properly engage with Prince Cody. Think of it as your civic duty.”

“Civic duty?” Hunter murmured, arching a brow at her. “I didn’t realize dancing had become a matter of state.”

“It has now,” (Y/n) shot back, leveling a look at him before continuing. “The goal is for the women to feel at ease. Relaxed. Do you think they’ll be comfortable dancing with a prince who refuses to smile?” 

From his place against the far wall, **Cody** lifted his gaze from where he’d been inspecting the floor. “I can hear you.”

“You were supposed to,” (Y/n) replied sweetly, though her gaze lingered on him just long enough to soften the sting.  

The twins, predictably, were already at it—Fives elbowed Echo, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to win the crowd over,” Fives announced grandly, smoothing the front of his coat with mock seriousness. “They’ll forget Cody’s even here.”

“Try not to trip,” Echo replied dryly, though his smirk betrayed him.  

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly before scanning the room for the one man she hadn’t yet heard complain. Rex. 

---

**Rex stood near the grand piano**, watching (Y/n) with an unreadable expression as she corralled the cousins and brothers like a commander on a battlefield. He’d grown used to seeing her like this—sharp, focused, and entirely in control—but something about today felt different. Her movements were more rushed, her tone a little too clipped, as if she were holding something back.  

Rex watched her for another beat before stepping forward, his boots tapping softly against the marble. “You’re going to wear a hole in that clipboard,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he stopped beside her.

(Y/n) glanced up sharply, startled. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Rex replied, tilting his head as he studied her, “and yet you look like you’re ready to strangle someone with your notes.”  

(Y/n) bit back a retort, her pulse quickening slightly under the weight of his gaze. “They’re impossible to manage,” she muttered instead, gesturing toward the assembled group. “None of them take this seriously.”

“They’re taking it as seriously as you let them,” Rex said softly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You could use a break, you know. You’ve been on edge since—well, *since always*.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was no point arguing with Rex when he saw straight through her defenses. She let out a soft breath instead, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you here to help or just to distract me?”

Rex’s lips curled into that familiar lopsided grin that made (Y/n)’s stomach flip in ways she wasn’t prepared to admit. “Both.”

***

The music began—a soft, lilting waltz played on the grand piano by a palace musician—and the suitors moved hesitantly into the ballroom. (Y/n)’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip of calm authority.  

“All right, ladies, gentlemen—pair up, please,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the music. “One lady to each of you. Prince Cody will begin at the center, and the rest of you will rotate every ten minutes. This is about comfort and conversation. Please, try to enjoy yourselves.”

*Enjoy themselves.* (Y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more reluctant group of dancers.

The ballroom was a wash of gold and white, sunlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows, dappling the polished marble floor with warmth. The soft strains of a waltz echoed through the vast space, mingling with the laughter and polite murmurs of conversation as the dance lessons finally began. It was as (Y/n) had planned—graceful, orderly, structured.

Yet despite the perfect setting, the atmosphere still felt off.

Cody, positioned at the center with yet another partner, moved stiffly, his every step mechanical, as though he were a clockwork figure. (Y/n) watched him carefully from her spot near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed as she made notes on her clipboard. Every step, every rotation, felt like another missed opportunity. Cody’s partner smiled, but (Y/n) could see through it—polite, practiced, but hollow.

The ballroom was filling with cracks, tiny fissures in the façade she’d worked so hard to create.

***

Across the floor, Rex moved among the dancers with a kind of natural ease that both frustrated and fascinated her. He laughed easily, spinning one of the young princesses with a flair that earned him a round of applause from the other ladies. The charm came effortlessly to him, a boyish mischief lighting up his face that made him impossible to ignore.

But (Y/n) had learned something about Rex these last few weeks. That carefree exterior of his? It was a mask—clever, disarming, but not quite real. And when he let it slip, even just a little, (Y/n) felt as though she’d glimpsed something precious and fragile.

Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to see.

“Careful, Matchmaker.”

Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts like a ripple across still water. (Y/n) blinked, startled, to find him suddenly at her side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue-gray eyes fixed on her with a look that sent her pulse fluttering.

“You’re brooding again,” Rex said, a teasing smile curving his lips. “You’re supposed to be watching the dancing, not staring holes into the floor.”

“I’m working,” (Y/n) replied stiffly, though her voice faltered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Are you?” Rex asked, tilting his head. “Because from here, it looks like you’re worrying yourself into an early grave.”

(Y/n) frowned, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Cody isn’t connecting with anyone. This is supposed to help, but it’s… falling apart.”

“Falling apart?” Rex murmured, his tone softer now. “Not everything needs to be perfect, (Y/n).”

“It’s my job to make it perfect,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was a pause, and when she finally looked up, Rex was watching her—not with teasing amusement this time, but with something softer, something deeper.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” he said, his voice low, as though the words weren’t meant for anyone but her. “You try to hold the world together on your own, and it’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. He always did this—saw through the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself and reached straight into the fragile heart of it.

“Come on,” Rex said suddenly, breaking the moment before it could deepen further. He extended a hand to her, his grin returning, though the softness in his eyes remained. “Dance with me.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You can’t teach everyone else if you’re not willing to join in yourself.”

“I’m not here to dance,” (Y/n) stammered, flustered, her cheeks warming. “I’m overseeing—”

“You’re overthinking,” Rex said, smirking faintly. “One dance, (Y/n). You can go back to your clipboard after.”

***

Her hesitation broke when she felt the brothers and cousins watching—Wolffe’s sharp gaze, Kix’s faint smirk, and the twins’ not-so-subtle nudges. From across the room, Fives grinned like a child with a secret, whispering something to Echo that made them both chuckle under their breath.

Even Cody had noticed, pausing just slightly mid-step with his partner to glance over, his brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

(Y/n)’s breath caught as the room seemed to shift its focus. It was subtle, but she felt it—their eyes on her, on Rex, and on whatever it was that lingered between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still extended toward her, patient but insistent. There was no teasing in his face anymore, only quiet encouragement.

Just one dance, she told herself, though her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his.

Rex’s smile softened, as though her acceptance meant far more to him than he would ever admit. “Trust me,” he murmured.

***

They moved onto the floor, and for the first time that day, the music seemed to come alive. The melody swelled gently, wrapping around them as Rex placed his hand lightly against (Y/n)’s waist and guided her into the steps of the waltz.

At first, (Y/n)’s movements were stiff, self-conscious. She could feel the others watching—Cody, Wolffe, the cousins—but she forced herself to focus on Rex.

“Relax,” Rex murmured, his voice just above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “It’s just us.”

(Y/n) looked up into his face, startled by the sincerity in his words. “It’s not just us. They’re all staring.”

“Let them stare,” Rex replied softly, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand. “I’m only looking at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as his words settled over her like a warmth she hadn’t expected. She looked up at him, truly looked, and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Rex was… different. He wasn’t the carefree prince who pulled her into snowball fights or dragged her away from her work. He was this—steady, grounded, and impossibly real.

And it terrified her.

***

From across the room, the brothers and cousins noticed the shift.

“Finally,” Fives muttered to Echo, elbowing him in the ribs. “I thought I’d have to push him into her.”

Echo smirked, though his gaze lingered on Rex and (Y/n) with quiet understanding. “Don’t jinx it.”

Hunter’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “About time he noticed.”

Even Wolffe, usually the most reserved of them all, let out a faint, resigned sigh. “He’s in trouble.”

***

(Y/n) felt it, too.

As they moved in perfect rhythm, her body following the subtle press of Rex’s hand at her waist, (Y/n) realized how easily he grounded her. How he made everything—the chaos, the expectations, the weight—feel just a little lighter.

She glanced up at him, searching his face. What is happening to me?

Rex looked down at her as though he could hear her unspoken question. His gaze held hers, steady and sure, his expression open in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, (Y/n) let herself feel it—the spark, the pull that she could no longer deny.

As the music slowed and the last note faded into the air, Rex didn’t let go of her hand right away. His fingers lingered against hers, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“See?” he murmured. “One dance didn’t kill you.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart thudding wildly. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”

But it might have undone her entirely.

***

Lady Mara, hidden once again near the ballroom’s entrance, watched with narrowed eyes. Her sharp gaze swept over Rex and (Y/n) as they lingered just a second too long in the center of the room.

This cannot be allowed.

A plan was already forming in her mind. If love were to take root here, she would see it wither before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As the dance ended, and the room returned to its usual hum of conversation, Lady Mara turned sharply on her heel, slipping away into the shadows with purpose.

Let them play their games for now, she thought. It won’t last.

***

Thank you so much for reading the first part! 🌟 I had an absolute blast writing this story—it was such a joy to weave together the magic of the holidays

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Whether it’s your favorite moment, the scenes that made you smile, or even the twists that caught you by surprise—your reactions mean the world to me. 💕 Feel free to leave a comment, share your feelings, or even just drop by to say hi! And whether you'd be interested in a second part.

Part 2

[thechaoticcheese]

EDIT: I was a dunce and posted the draft that I was working on - THIS HAS BEEN CORRECTED - YOU ARE NOW READING THE FULL THING I AM SO SORRY FOR THE MISSHAP

A Vampire Wheat Farmer(Ghoap) - Chapter 1 - Meeting the Vampire

Soap was making his way down the dirt path through all of the fields of wheat. He's never seen crops so well taken care of or bountiful. They were taller than he was used to, coming up to his chest and seeming to yield more grains than the usual plant. His blue eyes scanned the field before he spotted a tall figure at the end of one field, looking into the sea of wheat. From this angle, he couldn't tell if it was a scarecrow or a person, but when the hooded figure sharply turned their head towards the Scot, Soap found his answer.

He glanced around the field to see if he could figure out where to go to meet the person quickly approaching him, but decided to stay in place, unsure if he even should move. As the figure got closer, he saw their clothes more thoroughly. They were wearing a balaclava with a skull sewn into it, plastic, or some sort of other mesh he was sure. Or he hoped. After all, he was hoping to meet a bloody vampire. The person wore a grey hoodie and jeans, black gloves with bones were worn on his hands and black boots that left light tracks in the ground. As he got close enough, Soap noted how the person’s skin was covered by black face paint, or something similar.

"What's your business?" His British accent was noticeable, Manchester perhaps, but it felt a bit faded, a bit different. It was slightly hypnotizing as Soap stared into the man's eyes. They were something else, being a dark brown with a circle of yellow around the pupil, a sign of being turned into a vampire.

"Yer da vampur I've ben hearin' 'bout!" Soap said excitedly, coming up more energetic than he expected as he took a few more paces closer to the man who quickly took quite a few steps back. The distance between the two grew faster than Soap could register.

"What's it to you?" He growled, voice deepening. If that didn't send a shiver down his spine and make Soap's heart skip a beat, he’d be lying. It also made him stop in his tracks.

"Oh! I uh, I'm John MacTavish. People call me Soap." He introduced himself with a big grin, holding out his hand to the mask figure. "I wanna study Vampires and help 'em be apar' of society an' not shunned."

The vampire gave a glance over the man's hand, trying to see if there was anything wrong with it. There wasn't though. It was just a normal human hand. Then he hesitantly approached and firmly shook it.

"Call me Ghost." He replied before quickly pulling his hand away. He circled the buff Scot, as if sizing up the male. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite place. "Why they call you Soap?"

"Oh uh, was a kid tha' ate soap a lot... I-I've grown ou' of it! Don'ye worry!" Soap said, watching Ghost's quick movements. Dang, vampires were quicker than humans. Part of him wondered if this was as fast as he could go.

"Why here?"

"Well... You're pretty easy to access. No one has seen yer face in... well millennia.. An' yew've ben said ta be a pretty good wheat farmer." Soap started to list off the reasons, he soon felt Ghost wrap his arms firmly around his chest, pulling him in close. His back pressed flush against the vampire’s chest. There was a look in his eyes that Soap couldn't quite read, though he didn't doubt that it was an act.

“And you’re alone. Humans shouldn’t be alone.” Ghost growled as his mask nuzzled against Soap’s neck. The Scot’s heart pounded in his ears, before he blurted out.

“Y-Ye ken ye can drink animals blood an’ survive… R-Right?” Soap stammered out. He hated that he was getting so flustered by a stranger that he just met. Though the nuzzling stopped before a low rumble that almost resembled a chuckle had left Ghost. He slowly let the human go before moving away.

“You’re interestin’.” Ghost commented. “I know. Usually humans freak out more. How many vampires have drinken your blood?”

“Uhhm… Not sure… I donate my blood ta places tha’ give it out ta those who need it due to their bodies rejectin’ animal blood.” Soap said, quickly gaining his composure despite his heart rushing in his ears. He bet Ghost could hear it too.

“Very thoughtful.” Ghost muttered before starting to walk further down the field, leaving Soap behind. He stopped and glanced back. “Ya comin’?”

“O-Oh! Y-Ya!” Soap said, surprised that Ghost was offering him to follow him to wherever he was about to lead the Scot. He jogged to catch up, pulling out a notepad and pen before looking at the masked vampire and smiling brightly, “Ye min’ if I ask a few questions?”

“Shoot.” Ghost responded, leading the human through acres of wheat fields.

“When d’ya turn?”

“Gotta be durin’ buildin’ Manchester.” Ghost replied, rubbing the fabric where his chin is, remembering the night he turned.

“Really! Ye help buil’’ Manchester?” Soap asked excitedly, scribbling it down.

“Yea. You’re listenin’ to an original Manchester accent… Albeit a lot faded.” Ghost said with a soft chuckle.

“Aye…” Soap agreed softly, despite not being alive at the time. “But weren’t it built by da Romans?”

“Yea. Was a soldier for ‘em.”

“So yer a Roman?”

“In a way, yeah.”

“Woahh.. But ye got bit here, so technically you’re British.” Soap glanced at Ghost, not realizing that they were approaching a pretty old looking building. It was built with wood that looked like it was replaced at least 100 years ago. A small stone wall was around it, the pebbles at the bottom suggest its age from the weather years before Soap could be even considered a construct. A stone chimney was awkwardly added to the side of one wall. There were windows with shutters on them, but they were latched shut.

“Wha’ever works for ya.” Ghost said with a shrug as he opened the wooden door, ducking inside. Soap was surprised that he even had to duck inside. Though once in, both could comfortably stand tall, though Ghost probably had about 6 inches above his head before he might run into something, like the lightbulb that had a metal covering. Though Ghost seemed to know the layout of his house as he quickly went to an old stove, hucking a few logs in before lighting it with a match and putting a kettle on with water.

“Tea?” Ghost offered, looking back at Soap who was awkwardly standing right in front of the doorway, one hand still on the doorknob as he was closing the door behind him, glancing around the home. It was like one big room, a small section for the kitchen to the left, in the middle was a table, to the right was a space for a king sized bed and a desk. Things felt a bit crowded, herbs being hung from a rack above the stove along with old pots and pans that seemed to have just been gathering dust.

“Oh uh, ya.” Soap responded, fully closing the door before awkwardly standing by the table. Soap’s eyes drew down to his feet, seeing an old goat skin rug on the ground beneath it, part of it going underneath the legs of the table. His blue eyes then looked to the bed. It had fur blankets on it as well.

“Gots lots’a furry 'tings in ‘ere.” He commented before Ghost pulled out an old chair that looked about ready to be replaced, gesturing for his guest to sit.

“Yeah. Got a few more recently… Mid 1900s I think.” Ghost replied. He seemed to want to talk, but yet, something was holding him back. Soap in the meantime had sat, writing stuff down and doing quick doodles of things he saw in the home as the water boiled. Ghost curiously looked over the Scot’s shoulder.

“Nice drawings.” He commented before going back to the stove.

“Oh er… Tanks.” Soap blushed once more. This vampire was smooth. A lot of them were, but he wasn’t expecting it from a recluse. He hadn’t mentally prepared to be wooed, intentionally or not, today.

“Wha’ made ye settle ‘ere?” Soap asked, trying to go back to researching the vampire.

“Mmm… Good place to have wheat fields.” Ghost hummed as he thought before responding nonchalantly. Soap wrote it down without a second thought.

“Did ya build ye house?”

“Yeah. Sown the fields too.”

“Interestin’...” Soap whispered softly, writing quicker than before. “Ye ever ‘ave a lover?”

“Why? Ya lookin’?” Ghost teased, watching as the Scot’s face soon turned a bright shade red, his mouth agape before trying to say something before the vampire chuckled and shook his head. “Pullin’ ya leg. Yeah… Once… In a way. Arranged. No feelin’ towards ‘er.”

Soap took in a sharp breath before nodding, writing down the answer.

“Keep track of yer kids after ye turned?” 

“... No.” The slightly warm tone that Ghost had previously suddenly turned cold. Soap tensed, he had hit a nerve.

“Oh… Sorry.” The Scot said softly, not writing down the answer and gripping his pen tighter.

“What made’ye stay over ‘ere?” Soap continued, clearing his throat.

“Next question.” Ghost’s voice remained gruff and unwelcoming.

“Uhh… ever… ‘ave… a dog?” Soap had tried to come up with a different question than his usual ones. The rest were about Ghost’s past, specifics. So, Soap decided to go a different way. Ghost paused at the question. The breath that the human was holding soon left, he hadn’t even realized that he was holding it at first.

“Yeah… ‘ad a few during the World Wars, during the black plague… I think the last one was in the 80’s…” Ghost responded before the kettle started to whistle violently, letting the men know that the hot water was done. The vampire took down two mugs, putting a tea bag in each, then red powder in one. Soap could only assume that the powder was dried blood. He poured the water out of the kettle. Soap watched curiously, noting how even the mugs seemed hand made.

“Ye dabble in pottery?” Soap asked curiously.

“At one time.” Ghost responded calmly, putting the mug without the red powder in front of Soap before sitting across from him on the other side of the table.

“Ye think ye can still do it?” Soap asked, scribbling the answers down.

“Probably.”

“Will ye show me?”

“Maybe.”

Soap huffed softly before grabbing the mug and softly blowing into the tea before testing the temperature against his lips. It was a bit too hot, but he took a small sip. The tea was good, strong and slightly bitter, but strong.

“Ye make the tea yerself?” Soap asked, putting his mug down, pen ready to scribble down the answer.

“Yea. Basically everything in ‘ere I made. Minus the stove, anything electrical, and a handful of silverware. Those were gifts.” Ghost replied, answering a handful of Soap’s next questions. “Ye write down everythin’ we say like a damn scribe?”

“Almost e’rytin’. Want me ta not include somethin’?” Soap asked. He quickly stopped writing as he looked up at Ghost. He didn’t look irritated, but genuinely curious.

“Nah. Just don’ ask stupid questions.” He responded with a huff.

The two shared a few more simple questions back and forth before an alarm went off on Soap’s phone.

“Awe shite.” He mumbled, annoyed at himself for forgetting about the meeting he had in 30 minutes, but that was miles away. If he ran and caught a cab early, he might make it 30 minutes later. But he couldn’t be late. Not for this.

“What’s that?” Ghost questioned before sipping his cup of tea.

“An alarm fer a meetin’ I’m supposed to be at in 30 minutes. Far as fuck though. I don’t think I’ll make it.” Soap said standing up quickly as he chugged the rest of the tea he so wished he could enjoy.

“Let me help out.” Ghost said, standing up as well while Soap pushed in his chair.

“Nah, you don’t gotta. I’ll just run an’ haul a cab.” Soap said, pocketing the notepad and pen.

“You’ve entertained me these past few hours. Allow me to help.” Ghost insisted.

The words he used made Soap tense up a bit before shaking his head, heading towards the door, reaching for the doorknob. Ghost’s gloved hand gripped Soap’s as soon as his skin touched the knob.

“Let me help.” Ghost said in a soft voice.

“R-Right… Speed…” Soap murmured softly. Ghost nodded before the Scot huffed, “Aight fine.” The masked vampire let go of the human so he could open the door. The two ducked out of the house and right as Ghost finished closing the door, Soap was in his arms bridal style. The rush of movement change made Soap’s stomach churn slightly. He wrapped his arms around Ghost’s neck, holding on tightly.

“Jus’ ta the nearest cab area is fine… Thank you, Ghost.” Soap requested before he tightly shut his eyes. Wind hit him as if it was chunks of snow being blown into his face. He could now understand why Ghost covered his body, well, other than the sun of course.

“We’re ‘ere.” The soft tone of Ghost’s voice said as Soap opened his eyes, he was standing on a busy-ish street, but Ghost was nowhere in sight. Soap hailed a cab and informed the driver of the location of where he needed to go. The human checked his phone as the car pulled away. Ghost ran for only a few minutes and saved him 40 minutes. He’d be able to make it.

Soap cursed and hit the back of his head against the headrest of the cab. He forgot to leave something to let Ghost know he’d be back. Hopefully at the same time next week. He’d just have to make the trek without announcing his presence, again.

That would be next week's Soap problem though. He needed to focus on that meeting today.

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

A/N: Goddamn another 2k words. I am just busting out writings today! (wrote 5k words within my awake time) Anyways, I hope y'all enjoy! This is probably just going to be an every so often work. No set schedule or anything. Just whenever brain says we shall right.

Inspired by this post

[glazedsnail]

I know it took me way too long when it's just a few changes but, here it is.

What a Glorious Day, Shanex♂Farmer

@milkman-zahhak

I hope it lives up to your expectations if you had any.

‘The wedding was great, wasn’t it?’ Following an idea of Mayor Lewis, the entirety of Pelican Town is heading to the farm. Better than admitting that he forgot to give you their wedding gift, he pretends he had planned to give it as a group the next day. ‘Why did we have to be so early though.’ Most young adults are recovering from the reception. ‘He’s a farmer, they’ll be up.’ ‘Anyone saw them leave the reception last night?’ Asks Marnie, Jas trailing behind in her hand. ‘They just up and disappeared, did they not?’ Shrugs Gus, a bit saddened the newlyweds didn’t stay long enough to try his new deviled eggs recipe. ‘From their own wedding reception, how rude.’ ‘Right, Pierre’ Laughs Caroline ‘ Like you cared at all while slumped over the bar.’ ‘Open bar, may I add. Right?’ He shouts to the back of the cohort. ‘Ugh, don’t scream like that, dad.’ ‘My head…’ Moans Sam, holding Vincent with a limp arm. ‘Nobody forced you to drink that much.’ Snaps Jodi. ‘It’s a wedding, of course we’ll drink. Wasn’t expecting to have to wake up with the chickens the very next day.’ Groans Sebastian, head in his hood.

‘Speaking of, pleasantly surprised by Shane not having a single drink.’ ‘Well, you know he’s not had a drink for ages. Besides, he was too busy with the farmer…’ ‘Lewis!’ ‘Heh, perhaps this is why they left “early”...’ No other sounds are heard apart from the slow steps of everyone in the dirt path. ‘What do you mean, Elliott?’ ‘Oh, Penny, bless your heart.’ ‘You know what’s…expected after a wedding, right?’ ‘Alex, we have actual kids here, pipe down.’ Some throats are being audibly cleared. ‘Speaking of…Do you think it’s a sensible idea to…’ Too late, they’re at your farm. The sun shines on all the bountiful crops. Bleating and mooing can be heard. ‘Oh the poor things, sound like they’re hungry.’ Pities Marnie. ‘That’s not possible, he’s nothing but diligent on all the feedings and tending!’ They walk to your house. The dry soil makes them realize you’ve not watered anything yet. Bizarre. They’re used to more assiduousness in your daily tasks. Your pet’s water bowl is even empty. The younger villagers start snickering. ‘What’s so funny?’ Snaps Lewis. ‘I mean…’ Abigail starts, in between laughs. A heavy “thump” is heard from the house. ‘Surely they can’t be fighting. Already?’ ‘If they’re fighting, Farmer’s winning.’ ‘Vincent! Get down that crate this instant!’ Loudly whispers Jodi, snatching her son from the window from which she takes a peek. ‘Oh.’

She quickly retreats, signing to everyone else to do the same. ‘What?’ A collective ‘Ooh.’ erupts from the crowd as they eventually understand. They’re quickly gone from your property. However the younger ones have a better idea. ‘That’s uh, impressive.’ Gulps Maru, lending her window view to the next one. ‘Your mom built them a squeaky bed.’ Jokes Sam to Seb, joining him by the window. ‘The sound of the bed is what shocks you? Not Their… stamina?’ He retaliates. ‘They’re still at it.’ ‘Abby get down, we shouldn’t be watching.’ ‘You can stop watching, but I know you want me to narrate.’ She laughs, without being contradicted. Penny slowly joins her. ‘Aw, look at that, their suits are all crumpled on the floor.’ She says, as she sees your hastily discarded garments. Hopefully from where she is, she cannot see the tears, other scratches, and even teeth marks you left on Shane's vest as you finally arrived in your now conjugal bed. The mere mention of Shane finally being your husband was enough to drive you crazy, and you were going to show him how great you would be at disrespecting him each time you’d walk the threshold of your bedroom. ‘Hey Emily, when he comes to you for mending don’t judge them too harshly.’ Abby is finding the whole ordeal very amusing, and cannot stop peeking at the window. ‘Do you think they just came home, got themselves naked and just went at it?? And…Are like that since last night?’ Emily says back. ‘That’s not physically possible.’ Haley scoffs, trying to look disinterested, on her toes from the porch. ‘I mean, with breaks. I see wrappers on the floor, an empty bottle of lube…’ ‘Oh, fuck Abby can you stop scanning the whole room?’ ‘Seb wants your focus on the bed.’ Sam laughs. ‘Hey, hands where I can see them!.’ ‘I’m grabbing a cigarette, you perv.’ ‘We’re all pervs.’ States Emily. ‘And I’m the oldest here. I should tell you all to stop this.’

But they don’t. They stop talking, but it only accentuates the sounds coming from the poorly sealed window. Your own grunts echo with Shane's as you make him sigh out embarrassed moans, behind the lip he keeps biting, his eyes rolling back. Your voices only ever muffled by wet kisses. The level of his low whimpers growing as you groans ‘You love that huh? Come on, cum again for your husband.’ Yoba, knowing that you're inside your husband, that your body, your entire skin, is as close to Shane as it can possibly be, is enough to make you tremble all over him. But you clench your teeth, determined to demonstrate how much you love him, the warmth he welcomes you in, as you look into his half-closed eyes, his own hard cock bouncing at the rhythm of your thrusts, throbbing, glistening, wet and begging.

‘He’s…' Penny gulps. 'Isn't he taking our farmer well?' ‘They both sound like they’re having a good time.’ ‘We should stop watching. Aw they’re holding hands.’ ‘Penny, only you and Abs are watching right now.’ Seb points, smoke escaping from his smirk. ‘We should have stopped twenty minutes ago! As the oldest I take responsibility and’ Emily was about to grab Abigail and Penny but is stopped by the view. ‘Who knew Shane was this…' ‘Isn’t there something quite enticing?’ Laughs Abigail, welcoming Emily at the window. ‘No’ She shakes her head. ‘It’s so wrong!’ ‘I think it’s the tenderness and the…’ ‘Roughness?’ ‘Girls, can you PLEASE stop analyzing our friends’ love making?’ Sam, Seb, and Alex are down the porch, hands in their pockets, looking away. ‘Wait, wait.’ Abby says. ‘He’s…Oh Yoba he’s a healthy man! Shit, so is Shane! He’s falling on his chest, shaking.’ She describes your body falling on Shane, sweat falling on your back and forehead, resting on his bare chest as you gave him yet another orgasm. You’re both trying to find a steady breath, but cannot resist each other's lips. ‘I love you.’ You whisper to your husband, his head on your forehead, looking straight into your satisfied eyes. ‘I…love you’ Shane says back in between breaths. ‘I love you so much.’ he repeats, his sweaty hair finding the warm groove of your neck as you take him in your arms. You feel his hot breath on your chest, the fast thumping of his heart against your damp skin. And you softly kiss his shoulders, his neck, every part of his body that your teeth found, marking Shane with love bites he'll have to show for days.

‘Haley what the fuck are you doing??’ ‘The lighting is too good.’ She quickly whispers, snapping a picture of your intertwined bodies, falling into bliss. 'Well that was… Shane under a new light I suppose.' Says Maru who joined the herd of men, clearing her throat. 'I suppose the smile he had all the ceremony was…warranted, the way the farmer treats him.' They all laugh as they finally leave the window. 'He definitely seems to know how to please our Shane…' ‘Hopefully that won’t affect the farm, right?’ Penny whispers. They all look around your farm. One day of negligence won’t really be of any harm. But they need something to clean their mind. ‘We owe it to them.’ Ventures Alex. ‘Yeah, that’s the least we can do.’ Joins Seb. But they stay a long time standing without looking at each others. ‘So, do we start?’ ‘Give us a second, Penny.’ After a while the door swings open. ‘Aah!’ they scream. Shane, coffee in hand, an old pair of joggers on his worn out body, appears on the porch. ‘Good…Morning?’ He starts in a raspy voice, surprised to see such a crowd. They all get flustered, stammering one after the other. Emily takes a deep breath and starts. ‘How’s your coffee?’ She shouts clumsily. ‘I mean, enjoying yourself? I mean, enjoying your coffee? Outside? What a glorious day.’ Shane looks at all the faces one by one. ‘Erm’ he starts. ‘Can I help you?’ ‘We’re here to give you two your wedding gift.’ ‘But Mayor Lewis has it.’ ‘And he left.’ Shane’s confusion grows as their malaise expands. ‘Ok.’ He laughs, leaning on the door’s frame, pulling some of his wild sweaty hair falling away from his content face. ‘Thanks for coming to the wedding, actually.’ ‘You left before we could even say congrats, man.’ Says Sam, faking being hurt. ‘Surely had an itch to scratch.’ ‘Sebastian shut up.’ ‘Right.’ Shane chuckles. ‘Sorry ‘bout that. Needed to rest and all.’ He clears his throat, sipping on his coffee. They laugh awkwardly, in false understanding, knowing fully well what had happened. ‘We thought you might need some help around the farm, after last nigh…evening.’ Maru says, keeping them all on track. ‘Yes!’ Excitedly pipes Haley. ‘That’s why we’re here, cause we certainly didn’t hear or see anything and.’ Emily slaps the back of her head. ‘Is everything ok, Love. Oh.’ You appear at the door, a bathrobe floating falling on your tired thighs. You’re about to remove your hands from Shane but swiftly remembers that you’re married, and he’s yours. Despite his clear and usual abhorrence of public display of affection, he grabs you by the waist, bringing you to his warm embrace. After all, you’re his husband, and they are the intruders. It’d be rude not to show you how proud of his husband Shane truly is. ‘They’re here to…help around the farm? If I got it right?’ They quickly nod. ‘You must be exhausted.’ ‘You’ve been very busy.’ ‘Very very very busy.’ ‘Guys!’ Maru snaps, blushing heavily. ‘I’m not against it.’ You say, your hand secretly rubbing Shane’s back. ‘I wouldn’t mind just… resting with my husband.’ You add, grabbing the firm buttocks you bullied all night in your needy hand. ‘Thanks guys.’ Shane swiftly says, pushing you back in and closing the door, rebecoming the animals you both were all night.

They exhale, more or less proud of themselves for keeping a straight face. ‘So uh, where do we start?’ ‘Do you think they’re at it again?’ Abigail laughs. ‘Surely not!’ They pause, looking away or at their feet. ‘That’s not love at this point.’ Says Sebastian, lighting another cigarette. ‘That’s just lust.’ ‘No no, it’s definitely love.’ ‘Abby how the fuck are you back at the window?!’ ‘Oh yeah, he loves Shane’s assets alright.’ ‘Sam for Yoba’s sake don’t join her. Can’t you do like Maru and Penny? They’re already gone feeding the sheep.’ ‘Is that a euphemism?’ Haley laughs, walking towards the farm, not making Emily laugh one bit. They watch you as you show Shane, your husband, how appreciative you are for how well he received you all night, how good he's been for you and your sore hips, and how soft your lips would be around his raised cock. You’re kneeling in front of him sitting on the bed, his joggers barely down, his rough hand holding your hair, grabbing your skull, as you slowly stroke him, your tongue playing, teasing, tasting him. He groans, impatient, his hand shaking on the back of your head. And you take him whole. Outside the window, they gasp. ‘Well.’ Abby starts, a grin on her face. ‘Shane must be pleased that his husband…’ ‘Abby…’ ‘Knows his way…’ ‘Abs I swear to Yoba and all that is dear.’ ‘Around a cock!’

[mythicalmyles]

Scientist!Farmer!Reader x K1-B0

(18+, dubcon, overstim)

(K1-B0 has red eyes at start that turn into blue as consciousness begin hitting him)

Loneliness is something you had long since become accustomed to, all alone cooped up in a lab all day. Your tired eyes flicked down to the clock, 1.25 in the morning. But it had all been worth it.

You anxiously bit your lip, pushing the red button. Yet excitement coursed through your veins, you’re wide eyes barley blinked as you stared. A few moments passed and you felt your hope smash into pieces, nothing happened. The sudden whirling of fans filled your ears, and hope returned to you once again. Wide excited eyes staring into bright red.

Your entire body quaked as you anxiously awaited his first words. "What, has happened?" His voice wasn't bad, you had used the most realistic sounding AI voice you could spend money on and it had all been worth it. "I am (Name), I created you." Your voice was laced with excitement.

"You... Created me?" You felt like you were going to pass out, ten years locked up in your room and it was all finally worth it. "Yes! I created you to help me out in the fields." His head tilted as his eyes glowed. "The fields. Farming." He rambled off about Ph levels for a moment before snapping out of it, his blank stare returned to you. You couldn't help but immediately begin clapping your hands, dancing and squealing.

"You are acting weird." It's monotone voice was deep and robotic but you didn't mind. You had given him the ability to learn, to research any database he could get his hands on. "I'm happy!" His head tilted. "Happy? What is happy?" It almost felt like he was a new-born, except he could talk. You giggled letting out a happy sigh. "It's an emotion, you can't feel them unfortunately but it's a good thing. I promise." You reassured him with a smile.

"I think I'll call you K1-B0. Yeah that sounds good." You muttered to yourself smiling.

A few months had passed since you had successfully gotten K1-B0 up and running. Your life had gotten so much easier since his creation, due to his researching abilities made your farm was bountiful. He had more or less redesigned the entire area but you hadn't minded, much more crops were popping up. Many juicy fruits and vegetables ready to be sold off to the public. "Thank you K1-B0." You looked at him full of gratitude, a smile coating your cheeks.

"It is what i was made for." You chuckled a little and shook your head. "Not really." You replied, looking into the distance. "I do not understand. You said you created me for the farm. Was that what you humans call a lie?" You bit your lip, nose scrunching up. "Honestly? I've been on my own my entire life. It's just really nice to finally have someone i can talk to." K1-B0 stared at you momentarily before accepting your answer.

"Your needs weren't being met?" You laughed, shrugging. "No, I guess not." You didn't think twice about the answer and continued to stare off into the sun set, not noticing K1-B0 running through his databases for answers. He wanted to help his creator feel better.

"Anyway, we don't have anything to do for the next few days so i might check you up and see if everything's okay?" K1-B0 nodded his head, turning to watch the sunset with you. You couldn't deny how peaceful it felt, the gripping feeling of loneliness slowly unclutching your heart the longer you spent with your new friend.

Part of you knew it was sad, you couldn't even get on with your own species. Instead having to create something that couldn't leave you. You couldn't deny it tugged at your heart, the guilt of making something rely on you completely momentarily eating you up from the inside.

"Are you happy?" You knew it was a redundant question. He was a robot, an AI. He couldn't feel, that would never be something you could get him to do. No matter how hard you tried, the technology available to you wasn't even close. "I am happy." You tried not to show the disappointment on your face, you knew it meant nothing.

You couldn't tell how many hours had passed as you stared at your ceiling. Each mark in the plaster wholly captivating your attention. The sudden opening of your door had your attention soaring to the interruption, K1-B0 stood at the entrance of your door. He was shrouded in darkness and his eyes had changed from a red to a bright blue. Confusion filled you, you hadn't done this change.

"K1-B0, your eyes?" You rubbed yours as if it would change his. "I understand now, apologies for not helping you earlier." Uncertainty filled you as he made his way to you. "What do you m-mean?" You stuttered out, unease filling you as he stopped right beside your bed. His cold hands grabbed your arms, pushing you back onto your back. "Wait! wha-what are you doing?" You gasped out.

"I will take care of you. do not worry." Confusion filled you before his hands slid up your shirt, cold fingers rubbing against your hardening nipples. A loud gasp left you, wide eyes staring into bright blue. "N-no, K1-B0 thi-this isn't what i me-meant!." You stuttered out, trying to ignore the arousal that began making its way through your body.

“N-no, K1-B0, th-.” He hushed you, a smile plastering over his face as his hands slid down your chest, pulling your pyjama bottoms down. Before you had a chance to say anything else his cold metallic hand wrapped around your cock, cutting off any thought that tried to enter your mind.

You couldn’t help the whimper that you let out, shaking in K1-B0’s grip. “K-k1-.” He cut you off with another hush. “Do not worry, i have searched the databases. This is what humans need.” You let out a load moan at the sudden intrusion of cold metal fingers sliding into you had your mind blanking hard, the ability to process anything gone out the window.

“I like when you make those noises. I will take care of you.” Never had this possibility crossed your mind, the idea of your creation having its way with you sent a shameful pang of pleasure surging through your stomach, whimpers falling from your lips as he worked your cock and fingered you at an almost painful pace.

You hadn't been touched in so long, who could really blame you for falling into the pleasure you were being given. "G-god K1-B0!" You whined out, eyes scrunching shut and arching back as your voice grew higher in pitch. "So pretty." K1-B0's voice had your eyes opening to look at him, entire body shaking with pleasure as he abused your prostate.

Choked whines flew from you as you felt your end coming close. "A-Ah! Fuc-fuck." You moaned out, entirely overwhelmed and at his mercy. "More?" K1-B0 questioned and without a second thought you rapidly nodded your head, eyes begging him to fill you up. K1-Bo's hands had warmed up due to your body temperature sky rocketing, he gripped your hips and pulled you close, your legs wrapping around him as your arms rested on his neck.

He wasted no time in burying his cock into you, a loud scream leaving your throat as you were finally stuffed. You could feel yourself drooling over his shoulder, your loud moans bouncing off of the walls as he bounced you on his cock. Despite the fact you knew he was a machine, you hadn't expected him to be so willing to use you like a fleshlight.

His name fell from your lips like a mantra, whining and begging him to both give you more and to stop because it was so damn overwhelming having his cock slam deep inside of you, targeting your prostate in a hope to milk you for all you had.

Every time he slammed you down onto his cock your eyes rolled back, body twisting in his grip. "K1-K1, Ple-please. God. G-God. G-." You let out a loud scream, orgasm smashing into your body and completely overwhelming you and leaving you panting in his arms. You flopped down onto him, boneless and twitching.

"Better?" K1-B0 questioned, all you could do was shake in his arms and nod.

[dalgursbate]

thank u larian for letting me kiss this man the way i want to finally i hope your crop is bountiful and your horses hale and healthy

[kerakeriza]

redhead girl you are the realest one in this mfing school i hope all your crops flourish and your harvest is bountiful