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heauxvibez · 26 days ago

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Dipsea 3 2/2

Warning: Smut (18+)

Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you fumbled with the key, struggling to fit it into the lock. The adrenaline made every move feel clumsy, your mind still completely consumed by what had just happened. Roman Reigns—the Roman Reigns—his smooth, rich voice, and his sweet, calm presence kept replaying in your thoughts, like a movie stuck on repeat. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way he looked at you at the coffee shop, how his gaze alone commanded your attention.

You barely remembered the drive home. Everything after leaving the shop was a blur. Did you stop at all the red lights? Did you take the familiar streets or end up on the freeway without even realizing? You couldn’t even recall if you had left your half-finished latte behind or if it was still sitting in the cupholder in your car. It was like you were on autopilot, your body moving on its own while your mind was lost in the haze of him.

As soon as you stepped into your apartment, the comforting scent of pine cones and cinnamon wrapped around you like your favorite fuzzy blanket. The warmth inside was a huge difference from the chilly air you had just escaped. It was like the heat itself was welcoming you home, reminding you of how cold it had gotten outside since you left the coffee shop. The sun, which had been shining brightly earlier, was slowly dipping toward the horizon, leaving the sky pretty shades of pink, purple, and orange. The colors lightly shined into your apartment through the balcony making it feel even more homey.

The drastic temperature shift wasn’t surprising—just another typical Los Angeles evening. The day had been warm and sunny as if summer hadn’t quite let go, but by evening, those familiar cool breezes had started creeping in, growing colder by the hour. It was one of those nights where you could feel the cold seeping through the cracks of the windows, but inside, it was all nice and cozy.

You kicked off your Ugg slippers without a second thought, leaving them by the front door, too tired to care about putting them on the shoe rack. They could wait. Your keys landed with a soft jingle on the hook, and you slung your work tote over the back of the nearest dining chair, its usual resting place after a long day.

You let out a deep sigh of relief and finally allowed yourself to relax. After everything, it felt good to be home. The suds clung to your skin as you massaged them over your body, the warm water cascading down like it did every night. You couldn’t help but hum in pleasure, letting the steam and heat relax you. This was always your favorite part of the day—the moment when you could wash away everything and just be. The familiar routine followed: a hot shower, then lotioning up from head to toe, followed by a some good food. Afterward, you'd curl up, rubbing your ankles together as you lost yourself in a good fanfic or binged something on Netflix. It was your perfect form of decompression.

Once you'd exfoliated every inch of your skin and eaten, the couch practically pulled you in. Your body was clean, your belly full, and you could already feel the comforting habit of rubbing your ankles together kicking in. But not yet. First, you needed your fill of him. You grabbed your phone and settled in, sitting upright with your back pressed into the cushion, while your legs stretched out comfortably on the L-shaped section of the couch.

Your oversized t-shirt draped loosely over your body, but tonight, there were no panties sliding down to pool around your ankles like usual. You didn’t want any restrictions, nothing to keep you from fully enjoying the moment. Tonight was about pure comfort, no barriers, just you, him, and the peace of being in your own space.

You opened the familiar app, your fingers moving without a thought as you headed straight to "My Library." There, at the very top, was his glowing image, standing out above all the other audios you sometimes enjoyed but never as much as his. Those others didn’t stand a chance anymore—they’d been permanently pushed to the background, ever since he started sharing himself with this app. He was all you craved.

You’d promised yourself you’d hold off for a few days, saving his audios for those especially tough times when you needed a guaranteed release. But after actually meeting him today there was no way you could wait. He was still in your mind, and the idea of hearing him now, after he’d touched you, was too tempting to resist. Now you couldn’t stop imagining what those muscular hands would feel like around your waist, how they might slide down to slip between your legs. Those hands pressing against your body, while his fingers—so perfectly manicured—teased your clit, playing you so delicately. Your skin tingled just thinking about it.

"Fuck," you muttered under your breath, "I left my damn AirPods in the car." You sucked your teeth and let out a frustrated huff, annoyed with yourself. The experience just wouldn’t be the same. You refused to settle for listening to him through your phone speaker—what was the point if his voice wasn’t fully enveloping you from both sides? And just playing his audio from your phone while it sat awkwardly on your chest? That was downright criminal. You wouldn’t be able to fully hear him, and it would be like having to say “Huh?” during sex—an absolute mood killer.

You looked over to the TV, eyes landing on the sound bar sitting beneath it on the stand. The corners of your lips curled into a small smile. Sure, it wasn’t the same as having him whisper directly into your ear, but hearing his voice fill the entire living room? That had its own appeal. You could already imagine it—the smooth sound of his voice surrounding you, echoing off the walls, wrapping around your body. Yeah, this was going to have you on fire. Maybe you wouldn’t feel him in your ears, but he’d still be everywhere.

Thank God for screen mirroring. The TV lit up, instantly reflecting the same images from your phone, and you couldn’t help but feel a little giddy as you rummaged through the app. Your eyes stayed focused, fingers tapping and swiping as you scrolled through until you found it—the playlist of seductive narration that always hit the right spot. You felt a bit nervous as your gaze fell on the next audio. You tapped "read more," and the description had you practically holding your breath.

Can you handle the sounds of Joe in your ear when he describes himself touching you? Click here to find out.

Something deep inside told you that this man was about to drive you insane. You could already feel it coming and weren’t sure if you were ready for what he had in store.

With a steadying inhale, you hit play, sinking deeper into the couch, shifting your hips forward to get more comfortable. The initial sound of his breathing filled the room through the sound bar, growing louder, surrounding you, drawing you in as he began setting the scene.

"It feels good having you here with me, ya know..." Damn, he sounded just like he did we he had completely grabbed your attention at the coffee shop earlier. It was just so alluring. "Your body right here against mine, your bare back to my bare chest, somehow fitting perfectly."

Your tongue slid across your bottom lip, your body reacting instinctively to his words. You placed your hands on your stomach, twiddling your fingers, trying to focus. You had a pretty good idea where this was going, but you weren’t about to jump the gun. If Joe wanted to see how well you listened, you were going to listen. From the last two audios, you’d learned that he liked to be in control, liked to take his time, and you were determined to follow his lead. No touching yourself yet—that much you knew.

At least, you hoped you were right.

"Your hips sit perfectly between my legs, ass pressed against me in the most tempting way. Fuck, if I didn’t have these sweats on, I’d be filling you up right now..."

Your lips pressed tightly together, trying to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape. It was silly, really—you were alone, in the comfort of your own home, with no one around to hear you. But something about the way he spoke, made you feel like he could sense you. Like he'd somehow know if you made a sound, and worse, punish you for it, scolding you for interrupting with your needy noises. So instead, your thighs pressed together, trying to stifle the growing arousal the same way you did that suppressed whimper.

"My hands begin to massage your shoulders, doing their best to melt away any knots that got my baby girl stressed. I want you to relax, my love."

You closed your eyes, easily imagining his hands working your shoulders from behind, slowly easing away the tension as you sat nestled between his legs in his favorite recliner. In your mind, you could feel the firm grip of his fingers, kneading at your muscles, just as he described. Your body, propped up much like it was now, except this time, he was there behind you, doing all the work.

"Both of my hands slowly make their way down your arms, as if they're trying to smooth away the goosebumps rising on your skin. Goddamn, I got this effect on you, baby?"

You could practically feel the slow touch of his hands gliding down your arms, leaving a trail of heat in their path. The goosebumps rising on your skin, as if your body was physically reacting to his words alone. Your imagination was coming to life.

And yeah, he definitely had that effect on you. There was no denying it.

"Hell yes," you whispered into the air, "You just have no fucking clue," you moaned squeezing your thighs a bit tighter. You were no longer playing with your fingers but now fiddling with the hem of your shirt. Your fingers so desperately wanted to play with something.

"Mmm, I can tell. I love that I can make you crumble like this." his chuckles thrummed through the speaker and right into your chest, "Fucking weak for me like always."

"Ssss," he sucked air through his teeth, "My hands glide right back up your arms, across your shoulders, down your back, then under your arms, moving deliberately toward your breasts. Your soft skin melts into my hands—so smooth, so supple, so perfectly moisturized. It’s like your body is made for my touch." He let out a low moan, the sound cutting through the air.

"The scent of your body lingers around us—shea butter and vanilla—it’s intoxicating. You smell exactly how you look, baby. Appetizing. Ready to be devoured… every last bit of you."

You could hear him inhale deeply followed by a slow exhale. "And the smell of your juices, fuck… it’s in the air too. That mouth-watering scent I never get tired of."

Your own hands slid under your shirt, moving to your breasts, following his lead, mimicking the actions he described.

"I grab your breasts into my hands," his voice continued, painting the scene in vivid detail, "massaging them slowly, working in gentle circles, my fingers grazing inward. Your nipples slip between my fingertips with each caress, becoming the most beautiful kind of collateral damage."

The phantom sensation of his hands moved just as your own were. He made it feel so real.

Whimpers escaped your lips as you followed along, your hands moving to capture your breasts just as he described. Your fingers spread wide before closing in, applying slow, tender pinches that turn you on more than possible. Muscle memory kicked in, and you imagined it wasn’t your own hands but his working over your skin, making your nipples pebble and harden more with every stroke. You remembered exactly what they felt like. You could feel him there, touching you so intimately.

"I start placing slow, sensual kisses against the nape of your neck," his voice rumbled through the speakers, "As if it’s my way of softening the roughness of my hold on you. My lips sink into your skin just like my hands do."

The sound of soft kissing echoed through the room, your skin tingling as the scene played out in your head. It felt so real, the warmth of his breath against your neck, the slow press of his lips against your skin. Goosebumps rose on your arms as you imagined it, "Skin so soft, so pretty—just like you, baby girl."

You heard one kiss, then another, then another.

"The hairs of my mustache brush against the coiling curls near your ear," his voice continued, "I couldn’t help but kiss those too. You always say how much you hate the texture of your hair, but I love it. It always reminds me of how deeply you're rooted—"

Your heart fluttered at that, the tender detail of him appreciating the very thing you’d actually often criticized about yourself. It made the everything feel a bit more real. You imagined his lips brushing against your coils, kissing them softly, making you feel cherished.

"Reminds me of how deep your skin is," he murmured.

"Rich,"

"Chocolate," he whispered, his lips sounded like they were brushing against your skin.

"Beautiful," he finished, each word followed by another tender kiss, the sounds echoed.

"My kisses descend from your neck to your shoulder and then back up again," he continued, "I can feel you molding against me, our bodies fitting together perfectly. Little gasps escape your lips as you're falling apart—overstimulated, frustrated. You want to be touched so bad, don’t you?"

You were panting softly, those gentle breaths gradually getting a bit more intense. Your hands were still teasingly playing with your breasts. You gave a quick, desperate nod, your hair bouncing against your forehead as you did so.

"I know, mama. Daddy is going to give you exactly what you want, you deserve it."

"My left-hand keeps grasping your breast, fingers teasing your nipple, feeling it harden between my thumb and middle finger. It feels so good under my touch. My right-hand starts its slow journey down your stomach, savoring every inch, fully aware that your slick folds are my ultimate destination. I leisurely trace a path, enjoying the torture you must be going through.

As I reach your navel, I draw light circles around it, knowing just how sensitive you are there. I can feel your body shiver at my touch,"

Your fingertips follow along, drawing slow circles right where he is. Each little motion makes your clit pulse. You can feel your juices trickling down your slit, soaking into the fabric of your t-shirt beneath you. You've never wanted to touch yourself so badly.

"My middle finger glides right above your clit, making those same small circles with just the right amount of pressure—enough to get you worked up but not quite enough to leave you fully satisfied. It keeps you writhing beneath me, soft whimpers escaping your lips as you beg for more. Shit." he moans, his voice sending you to the moon.

"I might just nut from doing this to you, baby." He mumbles, he was starting to sound needy.

"My finger slips through your folds, effortlessly separating your lips and sinking deep into your pussy. Mmm, you're so tight, so warm, and so fucking wet for me. I pull it out, relishing the sensation, and then push it back in, this time going deeper. I can feel every little shudder and clench around my finger, and I go deep enough that I graze that spot inside you that makes you gasp. You try to hunch forward instinctively, chasing the sensation, but my grip on your chest keeps you stable, pulling you close to me, making sure you can feel every little thing."

The sounds of wetness fill the air, mixing with the sounds from the audio. Your fingers are deep inside your pussy now, moving in time, mimicking the pace perfectly.

"I just know you're losing it, baby," he murmurs, "My hair dangling against your skin, brushing softly as I lean in closer. My lips trail along your neck, kissing and teasing, while my fingers twist and turn around your sensitive bud. I’m fucking you with my fingers, curling and curving just right as I press against that sweet spot that drives you wild. I know it’s making you crazy, mama, that desperate need for more, for deeper, for everything."

"I know this shit is making your heart flutter," sloosh.

"I know this shit is making you question why I'm doing you like this," sloosh.

"I know this shit is overstimulating the fuck out of you," sloosh.

With each sentence, your fingers dig deeper, pushing you closer and closer. He wasn’t lying—he was talking you through it, and you were losing yourself, drowning in the wave of his words.

“I pull my finger out, watching your juices cling to it, glistening and thick. The further I pull away, the thinner the string becomes, stretching between us. We both just stare at it, like it’s got us hypnotized. It’s mesmerizin', ain't it?” His voice dipped lower, “I’ve been craving this, been too long since I’ve had you like this… and now, I can’t resist anymore.”

"I bring my finger to my mouth, lips wrapping around it slowly, teasingly. Mmm,” he groaned softly, as if he was savoring the taste. “Daddy’s been thinking about tasting you all day, princess. You taste so fucking good, like the sweetest thing I’ve ever had. Can’t get enough.” his words made your body ache for him.

With a soft chuckle, his voice came in closer. “Here, baby girl... just open up for me.”

You bring your finger to your mouth, savoring the taste, and let out a soft moan just like he had when your essence 'brushed against his palate'. The sweet, thick juices coat your tongue, warm and silky as they spread across your taste buds.

“You taste so fucking good, don’t you?” he teases with a smirk you could hear so clearly. The way he says it makes your skin heat up, and you can almost picture the way his lips are curling, just like they did earlier when he was looking at you.

You moaned in agreement. "Now it's your turn baby. I want you to put your fingers in this time. Let's see how long you last listening to Daddy moan in your ear..."

Your fingers slid through your wetness, middle, and ring finger working together as they moved in and out, curling slightly as you explored for that sweet spot. The soft, silky walls of your body hugged them perfectly, the strokes drawing out the knots in your belly as you continued to tease yourself.

“So soft and warm, ain’t it?” he asked, “Fuck, yesss,” you whispered breathlessly, sinking even deeper into the feeling. Your chest and stomach twisting from his voice and the way your body responded. “Shit feels good, don’t it?” he groaned, his voice rough, “Now you get why I never want to escape from being buried deep between those legs. It’s like a trap… those sweet, soft, gushy walls just pull me in, every.fucking.time.” His words came out through clenched teeth.. well, you just knew they were from the way he sounded and it was driving you absolutely insane at the thought of it.

You could feel your juices pooling beneath you, gathering at the curve of your ass, the fabric of your shirt barely holding it back. You knew it was already seeping into the couch, creating a mess you’d deal with later, but right now, that was the last thing on your mind.

“Look at it, baby,” he rasped. His breath hitched as if he could feel everything with you. You obeyed, your eyes locked on the sight of your glistening fingers, coated in your own wetness, moving slowly, as if you were savoring the moment with him.

“That’s it, princess,” he growled softly, “so fucking beautiful. Just like that, nice and slow.” your pussy pulsed with need. You imagined him right there with you, eyes dark as he watched you unravel.

His moans grew deeper, more ragged, and you matched the rhythm with your fingers. “Shit,” he groaned, “feel you dripping for me. Keep going, baby girl, don’t stop. You’re doing so good for me.”

Your breath was becoming more labored, each stroke of your palm against your clit pushing you closer to the edge. The way he spoke, the groans, the shaky breath, all of it made you sink deeper into the cushions of your couch. His voice alone could bring you over and over and over. And just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, his final words tipped you over the edge.

“Now, baby girl,” he whispered, his voice a soft command, “cum for me. Let me hear how sweet you sound when you fall apart.”

-------------------------------------------------------

Tags: @harmshake @southerngirl41 @sortudademais @empressdede @alichesmi

@msbigredmachine @theninthwonder @blacst4r @sassginamillls @wrestlingprincess80

@headoftheetable @trashbin-nie @saintmagx @venusesworld @mzv11

@tshepisho @cyberdejos2 @femdisa @dayaimonee @sayyestoheav3nn

#roman reigns #roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns smut #wwefanfic #roman reigns x black reader #wwe #romanreignsimagine

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multifariousqueer · 1 year ago

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Miles G x Done! Reader

A/n: I’ve had this idea to finish this so this is gonna be the last part of this story. Once again, requests are closed but nice comments are appreciated 🫶🏽🫶🏽

Warnings: Yandere behavior, arguing, strong language, Stockholm syndrome, mentions of starvation and your circulation being cut off(very brief at the end), kidnapping, toxic behavior, violence, mentions of blood and bruises, lmk if I missed one

You felt a strong pair of arms grip your being as you struggled for freedom. Every thought you had somehow left your mind and new thoughts took their place, most of them being about how you were gonna get out of this when suddenly, everything was dark and you heard a familiar voice:

“You thought you could escape me Mami?”

~~~

When you awoke, you were in a cold room that felt almost sterile yet it felt like someone had tried to make it homey. A punching bad stood in the corner and it seemed you were in a wear house.

You dawned a leg chain as if you were an animal and you were wearing an outfit that had been long abandoned. Your hair felt puffier and you realized it was in the style you had when you left him(or so you thought).

The lights flickered on as you grimaced and the sound of fluorescent lighting buzzing and filling your ear and you attempted to shield your face in a last stitch effort to give yourself comfort in such an uncomfortable environment. His figure stalked through the door slowly as he glared at you. He was wearing his usual Prowler attire while dawning the same necklace you two had as a symbol of your long forgotten love.

Miles stalked closer as you tried to shuffle away knowing what was to come. Tears slipped down your cheeks as he put his hand on your cheek and wiped the tears away.

“Hola, mi amor. I understand these aren’t the best circumstances for us to reconcile but it still serves its purpose” he said

“Fuck you you insane bastard” you said lowly

“Such strong language for someone in such a weak position” he smirked

“What do you want?” You questioned

“You. It’s always been you”

“Why do you want me after all this time? I’ve changed I’m not the same anymore, Miles” you tried to convince him

“Just because you move to a new state which wasn’t far enough cuz I was still able to get you, and change your fits and hair doesn’t mean you’re any different, y/n. I get it, I haven’t been the most attentive or even the best boyfriend but I’m still yours and you’re still mine.”

“That’s not true. You hid being the prowler from me, you isolated me from my family, friends, everyone that cared about me” you said

“Because I love you, Y/n. When will you understand that? You wanted me so badly and now you have me.” He smirked crouching to your level

“I wanted you before I knew how much of a wackjob you were” you said, trying to scoot away from this monster

“Did you really just say ‘wackjob’ ma?” He laughed like it was Kevin Heart in front of him

“YES I DID BECAUSE THATS WHAT YOURE ARE!!” You screamed. Miles didn’t even flinch and instead just smiled

“Mama I’m not a ‘wackjob’ I’m your man and no amount of shitty hair dye and new clothes can change that” he said

“I hate you Miles Morales” You cried

“You’ll grow to love me just as you once did, Y/n. Just give it time” he said before getting up and leaving

“Oh and Ma?” He asked but you didn’t answer

“I left you some sopa de pollo because I know how tired you must be. And if it’s not gone by the morning, I’ll make you eat it in front of me and” he said before leaving one fluorescent light on and leaving the room. Leaving you with chicken soup and in tears.

The next day he uphold his promise and made you eat by forcing you to swallow it and spoon feeding you:

“I’ll feed you every meal, Chiquita if that’s what it’ll take for you to love me again” Miles said

“It’s gonna be a lot of meals before that happens” you joked

Miles smiled as he saw a sliver of your personality shined through. He always adored your humor and your wit and took this as a sign you’d be back to normal within no time.

The next three weeks we’re both grueling and miserable yet somewhat Euphoric. Starving wasn’t an option since he would spoon feed you(which you started eating yourself) and neither was hoping your circulation would cut off because he padded the leg cuff. Although lately, he would give you “breaks” which meant he let you walk around the warehouse a bit. You started joking more and being more open and Miles couldn’t be happier.

He started staying with you longer and cuddling with you now that trust was built up again and he felt like you were back to how you were before. He adored you and would do anything for you. If you had a cold, he would get you meds and nurse you back to health; if you had a food craving, he would get it in a heartbeat. It even got to the point of you taking care of Miles yourself.

Sometimes he would come in with cuts and bruises and you would gently nurse him back to health and clean his cuts with the little first aid kit he gave you. It felt so weird to be falling for him again and suddenly you felt like the first time you met him. It took months to crack his shell but once you did, it was over for you.

Perhaps it was the Stockholm Syndrome, maybe the lighting or maybe the fact that he went this far to care for you that made you start to love him once more.

~~~

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musamora · 6 days ago

Note

HIHI congrats on 1k !! I adore the way you write for fyodor, it's so so nice to read and I love the characterization

For the event could I please request a wild berry cheesecake (fluff) with the prompts "do you need to use your safeword?" And 'aftercare' with fyodor. Thanks you sm <3

wild berry cheesecake order three — calliope’s confectionary

content. gn!reader. heavily implied not-safe for work, non-sexual nudity, aftercare, hurt/comfort. notes and translations at the end. not proofread. 1.1k+ words. ⟶ features fyodor dostoevsky.

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

Quality time with Fyodor is rare. He’s always twisted into another scheme, spending every waking hour of the day in front of his monitors. You prefer he takes care of himself whenever he sanctions a proper break, not wanting your lover to step into an early grave—which he reminds you he can’t do—but there is an exception.

Because indulging in him is a rarity on its own, only to be held on special occasions. The evenings when his mind descends from the heavens to worship something a bit more carnal.

His lack of stamina takes a backseat to his methodology of stimulus. Your limbs float away with only a touch as you sate your desires through the fire of his fingertips, playing you like the very instruments he adores—but you have been his favorite to play.

However, your body grows heavy, aching with a pain you cannot name. Not the sweet kind that tips toward an edge. This one only burns. Your breath weakens, trembling as he slows.

“Do you need to use your safeword? he coos, breath brushing against your ear.

The world drifts into a haze. Your mind has slowly emptied, and your thoughts slip away faster than they arrive. You blink several times, attempting to reaffirm reality as it falls from your fingers, but you can only lie there and breathe.

“Любимая, look at me.”

Your eyes grow heavy from an overwhelming warmth drifting from your head down to your feet. Lashes flutter shut, only to open as a hand cradles your chin, and you fail to make out the blurry form before you.

“You can barely function,” he remarks proudly, hair falling in front of his eyes as he looks down at you. “Let alone handle another round. As endearing as you are like this, I’d much rather not break you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers graze your racing pulse.

“At least not yet.”

You can’t help but moan as his hands glide across your curves like he’s mapping them to memory, messaging the bruised apex of your hips with careful strokes.

“Красивый, моя дорогая. You certainly have an afterglow.”

“I look like a mess,” you mumble, finally able to regain partial speech function.

“Hm. But was that not the exact intention?” You shudder as he nips at the hypersensitive, hickey-stained bow of your neck. “You knew what you were in for.”

“Sadist.”

He chuckles, leaving kisses instead. “There you are.”

You tremble with uneven breath as he cleans your inner thighs with a rag from the bedside table. He smirks as he pries your legs apart to look upon his work, soothing your burning skin with his cool touch.

“You’ll need to be cleaned if you don’t want to risk infection,” he says, disregarding the cloth onto the floor to lift you into his arms.

“But I’m comfy,” you complain, stretching away from him in an attempt to grab the sheets.

“Now, now.” He threads your fingers together, effectively breaking your grip. “None of that. We both need to wash up before it’s time to sleep.”

You mumble your complaints, but he only acknowledges them with an amused shake of his head, carrying you into your cozy shared bathroom. The first time you saw it, you laughed, unwilling to let Fyodor in on what was possibly so funny about the little room. You had chosen not to comment on the homey atmosphere he crafted that contrasted with his everyday persona. Even now, the sight of the thoughtful decor fills you with warmth.

You try not to doze off for the second time as he settles you on the countertop, momentarily removing himself to draw a bath. His entertained huff stirs you awake as he helps you off the counter, balancing you as you step into the water.

He removes the small remaining clothes he has on, slipping in behind you before you lounge against his chest. You tap your fingers to an unsung melody as he works to lather soap across your skin, scrubbing and massaging as he goes.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

You hum in reply, not paying much attention to his words.

“Don’t fall asleep,” he continues. “There’s still much work to do before we go to bed.”

You frown.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Remind you of work?”

“Remind me that you won’t be there when I wake up.”

The minstrations of his hands pause, but you don’t take it as a sign to stop. Your exhaustion has loosened your lips, and the thought of keeping your words at bay only tires you more.

“I’ll find the bed empty, and you’ll be in your office, hunched over a screen like always,” you utter, wiping away the frustrated tears that escape as your confession catches up to you. “Sorry. This is stupid.”

You brace yourself for a familiar lecture, a stern voice explaining that his work is important and impertinent to your shared future. It’s a sentiment you don’t care for and a sacrifice you loathe—you may understand his intentions, but it doesn’t mean his actions don’t feed your isolation.

“I’ll be there.”

Your eyes widen, and you crane your head to look at him, not believing the words falling from his mouth. His expression is one he has never made in your presence, eyes softening with a vulnerability and frustration equal to yours.

“We can sleep in tomorrow.” His voice sounds so tired, making you want to hold him. “It’s time to rest.”

You refuse to break this moment with any more words than necessary. Instead, your fingers intertwine with him, and you carefully bring his hand to your lips, afraid he’ll shatter. You know you’d never be able to explain to anyone that this is the man you love. From his masks to the truth lying underneath it all, you’ll remain by his side until the bitter end.

You almost laugh as he wipes stray tears from your eyes, the dam breaking without your knowledge. But as you sit in the lukewarm water, as nude as the day you were created, you find that you’re completely satisfied.

любимая = darling красивый, моя дорогая = beautiful, my dear

TAGLIST: @imhandicapableofmath @ishqani @squigglewigglewoo @deepseafragments @osameowdazai @little-miss-chaoss @justcallmesakira @osarina @ruru-kiss @yonseibananamilk @saeandscaralover @vnk91t @v4mpash3 @quaao @meiluvrr

thank you for the request dear! i hope you'll like it <3 i've only realized recently that i haven't made a masterlist for this event. woops! hopefully, that should be done and up soon :D

#☆.musings #series: [calliope's confectionary]#gn!reader #request: [@himikoslove]#muses.mutuals #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bsd smut

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lunemai · 4 months ago

Text

Mamihlapinatapai

(n.) A look shared by two people, each wishing that the other would initiate something they both desire but which neither want to begin.

w: toxic depiction of Luke & y/n, toxic, toxic, reader wants Luke to "man up" (?), smut, no protection, very dirty tbh. angst. not very happy ending, AFAB!Reader.

You should be Stronger Than Me You been here seven years longer than me

"Seriously?"

Don't you know you supposed to be the man Not pale in comparison to who you think I am

"I'm talking to you."

You always wanna talk it through, I don't care I always have to comfort you when I'm there But that's what I need you to do, stroke my hair

"You need to communicate with me, y/n, this won't work otherwise."

'Cause I've forgotten all of young love's joy Feel like a lady, and you my lady boy-

-"What won't work?" I say with a raised eyebrow as the music coming from my radio fades out into the background.

he sighs and shakes his head in frustration.

"You know." he mutters "No, actually, I don't. Why don't you enlighten me, Luke?" he stares at me, and after a few seconds, he gulps.

"That's what I thought." it's maddening, this dance we do, each step hesitant, every glance loaded with unspoken words. i'm not asking for the world, am I? I'm asking for a man who can look me in the eye and declare what he wants, what he needs, what he feels.

Luke, with all his bravado and charm, is just a boy hiding behind his own shadow, the reputation of "golden boy" everyone has given him. he puts on this facade of "strength", of decisiveness, of leadership, but when when it comes to us, he falters.

He's afraid. "You're a coward." I whisper. I know he heard me.

he shakes his head, "What do you want me to say?"

I too, shook my head, not like him, he shakes his to rid himself of the words that want to come out of his mouth. I shake mine to stop the tears from swelling in my eyes.

"please," I say beg, is this what its come to? I'm pathetic. this is pathetic.

his eyes, those brown homey eyes, they fill with the same feelings he's just heard in my voice.

he walks up to me, and places a hand to my cheek, caressing my lips with his thumb.

I take a breath, I want to inhale him, I want to live within him. I know what we’re doing, what this is leading up to, how it’ll end, but I dont care anyways, i’m selfish and I take all that he gives me.

his grip on my face tightens as he leans down to place his forehead against mine.

Without another word, Luke closes the remaining distance, his lips crushing down on mine with hunger.

I moan into his mouth, my hands tangling in his curly hair pulling him closer. It’s like I can taste the frustration and desire on his tongue.

Luke's large hands roamed over my body, cupping my breasts and squeezing them roughly through my top. I arched into his touch, my nipples hardening instantly at his caress. I pull at his shirt, wanting to feel him against my sensitive skin.

Breaking the kiss, Luke basically ripped his shirt off over his head, baring his muscular torso.

My hands move to the waistband of his pants. "Don't hold back anymore, Luke," I say, popping the button on his jeans.

He stepped forward, pressing my back against the wall, his mouth capturing one hard nipple as his hand slid between my legs. I cried out, my head falling back as he suckled and teased my sensitive peak. His fingers slipping easily inside me as he begins to thrust them in and out.

"You're so fucking wet for me, baby," Luke growled against my breast, his thumb circling my swollen clit. "You have no idea how good you me feel."

"Oh, God, Luke..." I gasp, my hips bucking against his hand. "Don't stop... please, right there."

Luke smiles against my skin, his fingers working their magic as he brings me closer and closer to the edge. My breath came in short gasps, my body trembling with the effort of holding back the sound of my orgasm, he doesn’t deserve them, i’ve decided. But Luke has other plans, slowing his movements just as I was about to fall over the precipice.

"Not yet, baby," he murmured, kissing a path down my stomach. "I want to taste you first."

Before I could respond, Luke is on his knees before me pulling down my shorts along with my underwear all the way, his tongue tracing slow, lazy circles around my clit. I cried out, my hands tangling in his hair as he laps at me greedily, as if savoring the taste of my arousal. He sucks my swollen bud into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue, then delves lower, thrusting his tongue deep inside my hot, wet core.

"Oh, fuck..." I moaned, my hips bucking uncontrollably as Luke basically devours me. "Luke, please... don't stop. I'm so close."

Sensing my impending release, Luke inserts two fingers into my tight channel, curling them to hit my G-spot as he sucks hard on my clit. I cried out, again, my body shaking as a powerful orgasm rips through me. "Luke... oh, God, I'm cumming-"

Luke didn't let up, riding out my orgasm as he continues to lick and suck at my sensitive bud. my legs trembled as I ride the waves of pleasure, my juices flowing onto his tongue. Finally, he eases me down gently, his mouth leaving a trail of kisses up my body.

I ran my fingers lightly over his scar, the only “imperfection” on his otherwise perfect body, I feel him shudder beneath my touch.

With a growl, Luke lifts me, pressing my back against the wall of my cabin as he positions his cock at my entrance. Slowly, he slides into me, filling me completely. I moan, my head falling back as I savored the feel of him stretching me, claiming me as his.

Luke began to move, his hips snapping as he set a relentless pace. I meet his thrusts with equal fervor, my nails digging into his shoulders as I urge him on. The sound of our flesh slapping together filled the room, along with our grunts and moans of pleasure.

"Fuck, Y/n, you feel so damn good," Luke grit out, his eyes screwed shut as he struggled for control.

I cried, my legs wrapping around his waist. "Go deeper, harder.”

Spurred on by my demands, Luke thrust harder, his cock plunging deep into my welcoming heat. The force of his movements sent me bouncing against the wall, my breasts jiggling with each powerful stroke. our bodies glistened with sweat, the air thick with the scent of sex as we moved in perfect rhythm.

My breath quickened as I feel another orgasm building deep within my core. Luke senses it too, his movements becoming more urgent as he chased his own release. Our eyes locked, filled with raw, passionate desire, as we moved together, lost in our pure, unadulterated pleasure.

My walls clenched around him, my body shaking as a powerful orgasm rips through me. my nails dig into his back.

Luke groans, with a few more powerful thrusts, he buries himself deep inside me, his cock pulsing.

Panting, we stayed locked together for a moment, savoring the intensity of our release. Until it all comes back.

slowly he puts me down, our breaths still rigid, it doesn’t take more than 2 minutes for him to start dressing himself.

I scoff.

he sighs and steps closer to me, to dress me, I suppose, sweet right? “Y/n-” “No.” I say firmly.

Hurriedly I dress myself, because I need him don’t need him. I don’t want him. I don’t need him.

“You’re afraid.” Afraid of what we could be, of what it would mean to finally admit that this, whatever this is, matters. “Afraid of what?” he says with reluctance, he knows what.

I think, for a few moment, and finally I come to a conclusion. I nod at myself reassuringly.

“Y/n?” he says in his all sweet and soft voice.

“I want.” I start hesitantly, “I want more, I want you to make up your mind, I want you to be a man, stop whatever the fuck this is Luke.” I meet his eyes.

His face softens, and he lets out a breath through his nose.

“I’m giving you a day, a day to decide. we can meet in the Lake, tomorrow at 6.” I say with precision and walk past him toward my cabin door.

I open the door and turn to him, he stands there staring at me, with an expression I surprisingly can’t read. I nod my head towards the door.

He stares at me for another 5 seconds before making his way to me.

he looks at me with this deep look, as if he was mesmerizing my face, as if he’d never see me again.

finally, he nods, at what i’m not sure, and then he leaves. I close the door behind him.

I take off one of my headphones and sit at the edge of the lake, wrapping my arms around my legs, not quite touching the water.

They told me he was bad, but I knew he was sad That's why I fell for the leader of the pack

I sense him before I see him. it’s a moment before he sits next to me.

He sort of smiled, then kissed me goodbye The tears were beginning to show As he drove away on that rainy night

I’m tired of waiting, of hoping he’ll be the one to break the silence. I’m tired of playing this game where we both lose because neither of us has the courage to make the first move. I know what I want. I know what I deserve. And it’s not this.

He needs to man up, to be the bigger man I know he can be. He needs to stop hiding behind his fears and take a stand. Because I can’t keep waiting forever. I won’t. I deserve someone who isn’t afraid to show their cards, who isn’t afraid to lay it all on the line for a chance at something real.

If Luke can’t do that, then maybe he’s not the man I thought he was. And that thought, that possibility, is what hurts the most. Because I see glimpses of that man in him, in those fleeting moments when his guard is down, and I want so desperately for him to step up, to prove me right.

I turn my head to look at him. staring at him for a few seconds, he knows what i’m thinking.

come on, say something.

silence.

But until he does, until he can find the courage to be more, we’re stuck in this torturous limbo. And I can’t help but wonder how much longer I can hold on, waiting for a man who might never come.

request are much obliged.

songs are listed below! 💋

#luke castellan #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fic #percy and annabeth #percy and luke #percy jackon and the olympians #Spotify #angst #bittersweet #bitter end #luke castellan smut #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan oneshot #pjo series

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cnnmairoll · 1 year ago

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hello hello! may i ask for a luka x fem!reader where luka sees reader taking care of the moles and he just gets this very homey and fluffy feeling within him? :'DD please only do it if you're comfortable + are okay with doing it given your sched!!! have a great day/night ahead!

The Moles' Beloved Miss

Pairing : Luka x Fem!Reader Genre : Fluff a/n : When I saw this rec I immediately stopped whatever I was doing and got into writing. Luka favoritism? Yes but I'm not sorry for it. Anyways hope you liked this anon!!

You had always been the nurturing type. Whether it was tending to your garden, or baking cookies for your neighbors, your heart was as warm as your freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. You had a special place in your heart for children, which is why it was no surprise that you found yourself surrounded by a group of adventurous kids who called themselves "The Moles."

You had become fast friends with Hook and the other members of The Moles, Timmy and Julian. It all started when you noticed them playing in the park one day. Hook had taken a tumble, and you couldn't resist rushing to her aid. Since then, you had become their go-to caregiver, a role you embraced wholeheartedly.

One breezy afternoon, you sat in the center of a circle of Moles, their eyes wide with wonder as you spun a fantastical tale of knights, dragons, and magical kingdoms. They hung onto every word, their imaginations running wild.

Meanwhile, not too far away, Luka watched with a soft smile. He had always been drawn to your nurturing spirit, and your ability to bring joy to these young souls only deepened his admiration for you.

As your storytelling session concluded, Hook, the self proclaimed leader of the Moles, jumped up with enthusiasm. "Miss, can we hear more stories tomorrow? Pretty please?"

You chuckled, ruffling Hook's hair affectionately. "Of course, Hook. I'll have a new adventure ready for you."

Timmy and Julian exchanged excited glances, and Luka couldn't help but be touched by the happiness radiating from the children.

After your storytelling session, the Moles led you on a little expedition through the hidden corners of Belobog's Underworld. They showed you their secret hideouts, mysterious caves, and all their favorite spots for games. Along the way, you couldn't help but notice their youthful curiosity and wonder, and it warmed your heart.

As the day turned into evening, you returned to your small cottage in Belobog's Underworld. It was a cozy little place with wooden walls and a thatched roof, and it felt like a second home. You had a feeling Luka was responsible for its comfort, as he often popped by with small surprises, like freshly baked cookies or a bouquet of wildflowers.

Tonight, as you entered your cottage with the Moles in tow, you discovered a delightful surprise. The room was bathed in the warm glow of candlelight, and the smell of something delicious wafted through the air.

"Miss, look!" Julian exclaimed, pointing to a table laden with cookies, hot chocolate, and a pile of storybooks.

Hook grinned mischievously. "Luka helped us set up this surprise for you, Miss!"

And there, standing by the table, was Luka himself, wearing his characteristic warm smile. "I thought we could all have some cookies and milk and continue with the stories," he suggested, his eyes twinkling.

The Moles cheered in delight, and you couldn't help but feel a flutter of happiness in your chest. You all gathered around the table, munching on cookies, sipping hot chocolate, and sharing tales long into the night.

Luka, with his infectious enthusiasm, added to the magic of the evening. He told stories of his own adventures, ones that inspired the Moles to dream even bigger. As the hours passed, you couldn't help but admire the way he connected with the children, just as you did.

The night drew to a close, and as the Moles left your cottage with tired smiles and full hearts, Luka lingered behind. He looked at you, his blue eyes filled with warmth and admiration.

"Thank you," he said softly, "for bringing so much joy to their lives. You have a gift.

You blushed, feeling grateful for Luka and the bond you shared with the Moles. "It's my pleasure, Luka. And thank you for always being there to support us."

With a fond smile, Luka reached out and gently held your hand. "You know," he began, "I think the Moles are right. You're like a guardian angel to them. And to me."

As you looked into Luka's eyes, you realized that this peculiar little corner of Belobog's Underworld had become a place of magic and wonder, filled with friendship and love. And in that moment, you couldn't imagine being anywhere else in the world.

#��ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗ mai writes #honkai star rail #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #luka #luka honkai star rail #luka hsr x reader #luka hsr #luka x reader #hsr luka #honkai star rail luka #luka strongarm x reader #luka strongarm

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bastardsblood · 3 months ago

Note

I beg for stalker Damien and Celeste...

I'm very sorry to my followers for being dead the past month or so! As an apology, I wrote roughly 3k words for Damieste! I really hope you will enjoy it. ^^

Character(s): Damien, Celeste Scenario: Stalker Damien Content Warnings: Implied Teacher/Student relationship, Stalking, Emotional Manipulation

Celeste was coming to realise that there was a difference between being alone and lonely.

While being surrounded by her peers, it was the latter. Sure, they could greet each other with a smile and have a small chitchat, but that would merely make the wall between them grow. They were from two different worlds, and neither could begin to understand the other. It was simply natural.

The former was something she hadn't felt in a while. Rather, it was something she didn't have the privilege to be. Whether she was aware of it or not, each one of her words was being watched, and each one of her actions was being inspected with gleeful curiosity. Maybe it brought her comfort at first—a sense of companionship. The handsome nurse also looked like someone from the world opposite of her, and yet he took an intense interest in her. It made her feel special.

Even now, with her standing outside of her shabby apartment's door with a grocery bag filled with food she didn't buy, she felt undeniably special.

But to be special to a person like that was akin to selling your soul to the devil.

She gingerly took hold of the grocery bag and took it inside her home. It was a small thing, picking up the groceries and sorting them on the table—and yet, her pulse quickened and the familiar feeling of something is wrong returned. She knew he knew her address, even if her high school hadn't properly managed to update her personal information yet. Maybe she mentioned the address to him in a conversation she didn't remember. He did have a way of making her talk, after all.

Perhaps he was concerned. She wasn't picking up her phone, and she didn't show up at his place for dinner, either. A part of her brain was still ringing alarm bells at the fact that she was close to actually accepting his offers, while the louder part naively reminded her of all the things he had done for her so far. She didn't think he was a bad person, but more so a person who was awkward with his affection. Of course, he didn't give off that impression at first, but she remembered his own words that proclaimed he rarely ever connected with other people. With the way his eyes held hers during their conversations, she could be arrogant enough to think that she had become someone important.

Still, she noted with a slight shudder, the uncomfortable feeling stayed. Her new apartment was small, and although it was still work in progress, it was beginning to feel cosy. All of her expenses were being depleted to make her new living spaces feel homey, and only now did she feel a spike of terror after realising she hadn't put much money into securing her place. The lock was old and the orangish traces of rust were visible, but Celeste was satisfied with it as long as it did its job. Now, though…

She glanced at the door. There were no strange noises or suspicious footsteps outside. She nervously laughed at that—just why was she so tense? Nothing happened. Damien merely… went shopping in her stead and left the food by her door. That was the sole fact of this situation. She shouldn't turn it into anything dark or creepy.

Maybe the stress is getting to me, she thought to herself; that has to be it.

Damien secured her a few of her favourite buns and even left her with a packed lunch that didn't seem to be grocery-bought. When she opened the lid, the smell immediately made her confirm it was cooked by Damien. The seasoning he used was just about unforgettable for her.

Although she had no appetite, a part of her felt like she needed to eat the food sitting in front of her. A quiet pressure that made her feel like she'd be disappointing Damien if she didn't eat what he had so lovingly prepared for her. Though such pressure was natural, she concluded; she doubted anyone would enjoy going out of their way for someone who didn't value it. After taking a bite of the cooked rabbit, she knew she wanted to avoid Damien ever thinking she wasn't thankful for everything he did for her.

She ate one spoonful of rice after another, until the repetitive motions calmed her stomach into wanting to consume everything on the lukewarm plate. Her thoughts were slowly calming down too; there seemed to be nothing weird about this dish either. The vegetables were elegantly cut, and so was the delicate meat, as if Damien wanted to baby her to the point she didn't even have to deal with the effort of cutting up the rabbit. It was rather strange, being cared for so much by an adult she wasn't related to. The first time he cooked a meal for her, she was needlessly paranoid over his reasoning and suspected some foul play. Kindness from adults rarely came for free.

Maybe it was her own fault for doubting Damien even now. He proved over and over again that he was different from other adults, and yet she still pushed him away. Any thought of wanting to fully trust him would follow with an even stronger sense of distrust, her gut feeling telling her to stay away. Damien mentioned he also dealt with therapy before, so… Although she found it a bit silly, maybe it was about time she tried it for herself. The last time she went to therapy was back when her mother was fed up with her constant crying, and the sessions ended up in even more tears falling down her face. Those memories still bring her embarrassment.

But if she wanted to return Damien's efforts, she'd have to put in work as well. She was fine with disappointing herself and her mother—both of them were used to it by now—but Damien was someone she could still prove to that she was better than she actually was. A canvas that wasn't fully coloured yet, a small space for hope and change. Well, she was just fooling herself into thinking she could become any better. In reality, she'd just be continuing to fish for his approval.

But would that be really that bad? She wanted her mother's approval too, but she never once looked her way, too obsessed with chasing down men to date and spend time with. Damien cared for her and quietly treasured even the small efforts she put into their, frankly strange, friendship.

That thought made her exhale a laugh. Sure, he could see it as friendship, but it's not like Celeste is blind—being around someone that handsome was a recipe for a disastrous crush. She was already getting flustered over him waving at her in the school hallways and even examining her cuts. It was pathetic, really.

Her paranoia was merely created from her fear of getting attached. Since he was so kind to someone like her, there was bound to be something up with him—at least, that's what her brain thought. It was a silly idea that dug too deep into her brain and definitely made her forget that she mentioned her new address to him. Her brain merely thought it to be more convenient to demonise him in any way it could.

That was it. That was all it was.

Once she convinced herself of that, the rest of her evening went smoothly. She watched the TV while audibly complaining about the obviously scripted events happening in a reality show, showered, and changed into her pajamas. It was only when she pulled down her curtains and triple checked the door that she realised with a wince that her unwashed dishes were still rotting in the sink.

Well, whatever. She lied to herself that she'd wake up earlier than usual and wash them before school. Sounded like a plan, yeah.

—

She did indeed wake up earlier than usual.

It was not because her alarm set to 6:20 AM had set off, nor was it because of the toddler next door vying for the attention of her parents, but rather because of noises happening in her own kitchen.

It was most likely her mom dropping by for a visit. She doesn't know why she'd do that, but maybe she had realised that abandoning her child the second she reached eighteen was a tad too cruel. Her first realisation was that it sounded like she was washing her dishes. The second realisation was that her mother didn't know where she lived, nor did she have spare keys to her place.

That made her freeze in place. Was it the landlord? The previous owner? A burglar? No, the last option wouldn't make sense. Why would a burglar be washing her dishes? Or was it—

She gulped. The unsaid option lingered in her mind and a part of her desired answers. It was the morning, anyway. Seeing as her alarm hadn't gone off yet, it was earlier than 6:20 AM. Still, some people were already awake—from the top of her head, the neighbour next door—so if anything happened, she could yell. Maybe a weapon would be good, too? She glanced over her room in panic, cursing the amounts of soft and delicate things until her eyes laid on a pair of scissors. Okay, sure, that could… Work.

She quietly got up from her bed and slipped the scissors into her hand. She put her fist around them to somewhat hide the blade and slowly approached the door. It wasn't just her imagination; she despaired. There really was someone behind this door. She noted with slight panic that the water had stopped, too.

Her heart reached an uncomfortable rhythm. She was nervous, but she tried to open the door as casually as she could manage. Her door announced her presence with a squeak, and she came face to face with a friendly man she knew well.

Her stomach sank, but a smile rose to her lips.

"Good morning," he casually greeted her, his eyes flitting back to carefully polishing the dishes, "did you sleep well?"

"Oh, um, as well as I could manage, I suppose…"

He chuckled. "Well, it hasn't been long since you moved here. It will certainly take some time to adjust."

Although his back was facing her, she could see his fond smile in the reflection of the glass he was currently wiping with a cloth. It was a disarming one, charming as always, which made her insides squirm with danger even more. After an awkward pause, she muttered, "I suppose so," and silently stood by her bedroom's door. Noticing Damien's curious look, her uneasy smile quickly resurfaced, and she approached the shaky table in the middle of the room. It had chairs for two, and soon Damien seated himself across her with a paper bag in hand.

The rays of sunshine were already peeking through her window and softly touching Damien's features. It made them look even softer than usual, and Celeste found herself averting her eyes after realising that she was staring. When she gathered enough courage to look at Damien again, she noticed that he was looking at what she was clutching in her hands.

"Scissors?" He hummed, looking at the dull double blade. "Celeste, there are surely better alternatives. Would you show me your cuts? They may be infected." His hand slowly snaked itself around hers, and she had no strength or reason to fight against his touch as the scissors were confiscated from her hold. His actions and words momentarily stunned her, but then she rushed to clear up the misunderstanding.

"A-ah, no need for that," she waved her hand dismissively, "there are no cuts." Although it was unnecessary, she felt compelled to give Damien proof of her honesty. She rolled up her sleeves and showed him her scarred wrists, though with no hints of fresh cuts. The casual way she displayed what she hid from other people made her want to kick herself for potentially disturbing Damien, but he merely smiled in satisfaction as he scanned over all her scars.

Celeste was happy he wasn't judgemental, but the way he looked in adoration at her scars unnerved her. She scrambled to find a new topic. "So," she gave him a weak smile, "what's in that paper bag?"

Damien noticed the sudden change of topic, but other than giving her a mysterious smile, he didn't point it out. The paper bag crinkled as his hand searched through its contents to fish out a small, packed lunchbox. "As I was preparing things for today," he said as he put more items on the table, "I figured it'd be a sweet gesture to prepare some breakfast for you. I do worry about your infrequent eating habits, no matter how much you try to convince me not to."

The fact that everything Damien had made her for breakfast was right up her alley made her pleasantly surprised, if not slightly impressed. Damien seemed to have a knack for getting her just the things she liked, and she nervously smiled. "Thank you," she said as she put the lid back on the lunchbox she just opened. "It's a… I mean, I appreciate it; I'm just currently not very hungry."

That didn't deter Damien whatsoever, if anything, he looked rather amused. As he wiped his glasses with a cloth he fished out from his breast pocket, he responded. "That's fine, of course," he smiled kindly at her, "you can just eat it in the car on our way to school."

That made her pause. "Sorry, what?"

"It takes you around forty-two minutes to get to school on foot, right? Considering how early your classes start, you must wake up accordingly or risk being late." Damien calmly explained, placing his glasses back on his face and fixing his stare on Celeste. "Wouldn't it be easier for me to give you a ride to school every morning?"

Celeste produced a short laugh, but the feeling of fear that nestled in her gut resurfaced. The casual way Damien spoke of this disturbed her. Even though she knew the walk took a while, she never timed it and played it by ear. And the more she thought about what could happen to her if she stepped into his car, the less she was able to voice her refusal. Damien seemed to sense her hesitation and softly sighed.

"Are you uncomfortable with that idea, Celeste?" He gave her a small smile that appeared pitiful around the edges. His eyes trailed her contemplative stare at the scissors laying by his right hand on the table, only to crinkle in delight when her gaze met his again. He took her hand in his. "If I'm being too forward, then please forgive me. I am simply worried about you—I remember you telling me that you never had anyone to rely on, so I was arrogant enough to think…"��

Was this truly all this was about? Him caring about her? Celeste pursed her lips. She didn't know what to think, but she so badly wanted to trust him. He wouldn't—he wouldn't do anything to her in the car, that's a fact. Even if some of his behaviour disturbed her, maybe she was the strange one for feeling that way. It's not like she ever had anyone properly show her what it's like to be spoilt or cared for, so if her rejecting Damien would result in even him giving up on her—

It just wasn't worth it.

She told him her address, gave him the spare keys, and told him how long it took her to go to school. The fact that she didn't remember that happening doesn't matter; it was still the final conclusion. Damien went out of his way for her due to being a good person, and she was merely a delusional schoolgirl whose life led her to distrust anyone whose kindness exceeded the performative sort. She decided to trust someone for the first time in her life, Damien.

She changed her hand's position to be able to squeeze the one on top of hers. "It's not arrogant; don't worry." She weakly smiled at him, but let the smile fall the second her eyes averted to the side. "You're kind to me and care about me. You want to help me, right?"

Celeste didn't know whether she was convincing him or herself of that, but Damien seemed satisfied with her words. He checked the time on his wristwatch and then gave her a look that tickled her stomach. "There's nothing else I'd want more," he took in the redness of her cheeks with a strange delight and thinned his eyes, "You're a very special person to me."

—

Ah, she thought to herself as she entered the backseat of his car—was this a mistake after all?

His eyes flicked upwards to see her reflection in the rearview mirror. And, despite the dryness in her mouth and the feeling of her sweaty hand clutching the handle of the car, she mimicked his adoring look with surprising conviction.

When Damien started up the car, they didn't pass through any streets she didn't already know, nor did she see any people she wasn't already familiar with. It was a painfully normal, pleasant ride to school.

Still, she laughed, it feels like I have made one anyway.

—

Maybe it wouldn't be today; maybe it wouldn't be tomorrow.

But, the definite fact remained:

The pathetic rabbit drowning in affection would be devoured one day.

It could only wait with bated breath and meek words,

Until its love for its owner prevailed over the scorching pain of the cutting knife.

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dailyreverie · 2 years ago

Note

Poe + “I know we said no presents this year but…”

Love the way you write fluff ❤️❤️❤️

The first Noel Life Day

A/N: First of all, merry christmas if you are celebrating today!! I wish you all a wonderful holiday season full of joy and cheer!! Second, thank you so so much for sending a request! I hope you like it!!

☃️ December Writing Challenge! 🎄

Day 8: “I know we said no presents this year but…”

Pairing: Poe Dameron x reader

Word Count: 875 words

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol consumption

[gif by @reylo-solo]

With a dinner cooked by the two of you, the roaring fire in the chimney, and a few candles lighting up the room, you had more than enough to cozy up and enjoy; just you and Poe, that was the plan since the beginning, only him and you and the celebration of the happy life you were creating together. Moving out from the base was harder than expected, even after finding a place, your small house still needed some improvements, which may have required a bit more of an investment than you had thought of; but that was not a stopper to celebrate the Holidays, and you were not one to let Life Day go by without a proper celebration.

It was simple, homey, and intimate, exactly as you wanted it to be. No crowds or rushing somewhere, and more important: no gifts. You both agreed to it weeks before, promising that you don’t need gifts this year, that being there was more than enough gift for both.

After the most delicious dinner and almost a full bottle of wine, when you were happily talking and laughing in the comfort of your dinner table, Poe suddenly took a deep breath and stood up. “I hope you don’t get mad but I couldn’t resist myself…” Standing up he walked towards the living room shelf, opening one of the drawers that he knew for a fact you never open - the one with old mission journals that you promised you would never look at again -, and with the biggest smile he walked towards you, a small velvet bag hanging from his fingers.

“Oh my- Poe, sweetheart…” your heart swelled with love for Poe and his stupidly kind heart, just as your eyes began to fill with tears. “We said-”

“I know, I know we said no presents this year, but it is the first year we are on our own place, finally out of that mess.” His hand stretched over the table, inviting yours to join him there. He squeezed it when you did, his eyes smiling brightly at you all the while. “I wanted you to remember it.”

Sometimes, when you looked at Poe, you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. When you opened the bag your air snook out from your lungs, a gasp forming as you saw its content: a charm. The very same one you saw on that storefront at some planet you were at for a mission, the one you saw and said how beautiful it was. I’ll give it to you when we get our place, Poe had said then, when you were just shyly a few months in your relationship.”You remembered” You choked up with emotion, looking at the charm and remembering all you went through just to get to this place, this point in your lives in which you could, at last, have a moment in peace, one to just be happy and don’t worry about the next morning.

“I never forgot.” Poe squeezed your hand, giving you a look and a tiny smile that took your breath away. He stood up again, walking to stand behind you and removing the chain that hung around your neck and toying with it behind your back. “And, it goes right… here.” The chain dropped down your collarbones again where your fingers reached it, just to see the charm hanging next to his ring, right next to your heart. Poe kissed your cheek and your jaw before going back to his seat, a bright smile shining with the light of the fire.

“Well, this is ridiculous now…” You laughed at yourself, blinking back the tears, walking into the kitchen and coming back with a gift bag. “...I got you something too.” Handing the gift to Poe he joined your laugh, standing up and discarding the bag on the table just to be able to hug you tightly, rocking side to side to the rhythm of the song coming from BB-8.

“You were not supposed to get me anything.” He whispered, still not letting you go.

“Well, neither did you, you dummy, I wanted to surprise you” Your reply made Poe chuckle, clearly thinking the same thing about his gift. What all the no-gift deal was about you have no idea, because once Poe’s lips find yours you know you will always, no matter what, do all you can do to make him as happy as he is in that moment - and you know he will do the same too.

“I already had the gift, before we made that promise.” You confessed after a while, once the song finished.

Poe takes a step back, not letting go of your waist. “Me too.” He laughed. “Let’s promise not to be so damn stupid the next time.”

“That’s a promise I can keep.” You kissed him again, sealing the deal.

“Agreed,” Poe spoke against your lips. “Happy Life Day, sweetheart.”

“Happy Life Day, my love.” You get a little bit lost in the way he’s looking at you, in how his eyes are shining and his lips have this relaxed smile on them. You love him like that, gifts or not, happy and calm in between your arms, all for yourself on that cold night.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

Thanks for reading! Please reblog and comment if you enjoyed it!

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #poe x you #poe x reader #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron au #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fic #poe dameron fluff #poe dameron x female reader #poe dameron oneshot

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v-o-i-d-e-d · 2 years ago

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I’ll Follow Your Lead - Nighttime Chatter

~Also posted on my Ao3 and Wattpad~

Part 1 - Part 3

“You’re on in five, dearie!” The old seamstress’s frail voice broke Dorothea out of her stupor. She fought the urge to rub her eyes which were made up with light pink and silver shadow. As she applied dark red lipstick to her full lips, she hummed along to the music the pianist was playing in the dining room. When she decided her makeup was good enough, she took a deep breath: in through her nose and out through her mouth. She was always nervous before a show. She always dreaded that the next performance would be her last. She studied her reflection in the mirror, dark skin speckled with glitter and eyes sparkling in the vanity lights. Dorothea was indeed quite beautiful and she knew it. She smiled at herself in the mirror before rising from the plush stool and heading toward the stage.

Her set was short, but she received a lot of applause as the curtains closed. As soon as the dining room was out of sight, Dorothea let out the breath she was holding and picked up her long draping skirts to go back to her dressing room. After she had changed back into her own clothes, a knock on the door preceded it swinging wide open.

“Splendid! Wonderful performance, my dear,” Elmer, the owner of the restaurant, embraced Dorothea and softly patted her head. “You were a vision of light this evening.”

“Thank you, Elmer. I appreciate you very much,” Dorothea returned his embrace before breaking away with a tired smile. It had to have been the wee hours of the morning by now and she was feeling it deep in her bones.

“Please, have some dinner before you go. I can’t have you leave hungry; the missus would never have it!” Elmer wrapped his arm around the girl’s shoulder and guided her toward the back of the building where the kitchen was. Dorothea said nothing but followed with no resistance. She knew that she would not be permitted to leave without at least bringing some food with her and she had no objections. In the kitchen, Margarette – Elmer’s wife – hovered over a steaming pot. It was small and likely just a personal serving since the kitchen was soon to close for the night. The portly woman turned to watch Elmer and Dorothea enter and smiled brightly. Her wrinkled, red cheeks stretched and filled Dorothea with a sense of comfort.

“Oh, Dorothea, you were magnificent! Come, come, let's feed our lovely songbird, Elmer!” The woman bustled about the kitchen, first leading Dorothea to a small stool at the wooden butcher’s table and then grabbing the pot and a plate while Elmer fetched some water. When Dorothea was served, her mouth watered at the sight of fresh pasta fazool. She quickly began eating and held light conversations with the older couple.

Elmer and Margarette were immigrants from Italy and had been living in New York for nearly 20 years. When Dorothea met them, they had already established their restaurant as one of the places to be in New York City. Their food was well known and loved by locals and visitors, yet their place kept its local, homey charm. Dorothea came to them as a scrappy, sickly young girl, fresh off the train from out West with not a soul to turn to. The couple took her in and nursed her back to health with delicious food and lots of love and advice. Dorothea cherished them.

“I’m afraid I have to get back home now. It’s getting late and I have a morning shift tomorrow,” Dorothea said as she stood up and took her dirty dishes to the sink. She was about to start washing them when Margarette swatted her hands and waved her away.

“No need to bother yourself with that, dear, you work hard enough you don’t need to be doing my job as well!”

“Oh, but it’s not-“

“No, dear, she’s right! You would work yourself to death if you were left alone!” Elmer chuckled as he crossed his arms over his broad chest. Dorothea rolled her eyes but let out a laugh as well. She wouldn’t admit it but they were right. She did not know when to quit. “Now you go on home and get some rest. We’ll see you tomorrow evening.”

Dorothea nodded and gave them both kisses on the cheek before leaving out of the back door in the kitchen.

It was almost 2 in the morning when Dorothea arrived at the boarding house. She quietly crept up the stairs, carefully avoiding the squeaky ones until she was on the third floor. She had expected her roommate to be asleep but light seeped from underneath the pale yellow door and Dorothea sighed. She opened the door and looked disapprovingly at her friend.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, by now Angeline.”

The young girl looked up with a start. Her pale face quickly dropped into a sheepish smile as she earmarked her place in the book she was reading.

Angeline Langley was about thirteen years of age. She was an orphan – like Dorothea – and had come to the house late the previous year. She was boisterous and rebellious and quick to mouth off. Dorothea took to her quickly and treated her as a little sister: making sure she stayed out of trouble and behaved properly.

“I know, but I lost track of time while I was reading. It’s a wonderful story! Have you read it, Dory?” Angeline got up and showed Dorothea the cover of the book. It was faded and torn but in good enough condition to tell what it was. The Picture of Dorian Gray.

“Yes, I’ve read it. It’s my favorite! In fact,” Dorothea eyed the girl with playful suspicion, “This looks an awful lot like the copy I misplaced last month! How curious!” Angeline’s eyes widened and her cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

“I was just borrowing it! I promise I’ll give it back,” The young girl cried. Dorothea shushed her and walked all the way into the room shutting the door behind her.

“Worry not, I’m not upset with you,” She ran her slender hand over Angeline’s frizzy hair, “But next time, you would like to read one of my books you may ask.” Dorothea patted her on the shoulder and walked over to her own bed. Angeline made a sound of understanding and returned to her plush chair. Dorothea dressed for bed and laid out her work clothes for the morning before turning back to the young girl.

“I meant it when I said you should be asleep. Mark your place and go to bed, Angeline,” Dorothea placed her hands on her hips and fixed the girl with a stern look.

“Fine. But you must tell me about your day! Did you meet anyone interesting at the café?” Angeline climbed into her bed and slipped into the covers. She then stared at Dorothea, patiently awaiting her answer.

“Well, there was one man-“

Oh, a man,” Angeline interrupted with a teasing tone. Dorothea rolled her eyes before continuing, “Yes, a man. Well, he’s more of a boy. I think he’s my age,” Dorothea started to recall her meeting with the boy. Jack.

“Well, sir, here’s your hot chocolate. Your pastry will be out soon, I had to bake a new batch,” Dorothea huffed a breath forcefully upward to blow some of her black hair away from her face as she set down a steaming mug. Jack smiled up at her and eagerly reached for the cup. Dorothea moved it away from his reaching hands. “Wait! The cup is really hot. Be careful,” she warned before letting go of the mug.

“Thanks for the warning,” Jack chuckled before wrapping his hands around the mug. They were cold anyway from the winter air and he welcomed the soft sting of the hot ceramic. Dorothea hummed in acknowledgment before turning to go back to the counter. Jack stared after the girl, admiring her. He had seen plenty of women in his life and each of them had their own admirable qualities. Dorothea was no different. She carried herself with the confidence and poise of a debutant and yet wore stained clothes. Her hair was messily tied on top of her head with a dark red ribbon, leaving dark curls to fall perfectly into her face. She was slender and a little on the short side but everything about her seemed to be her – she was a gorgeous woman. We watched her as she moved about the café. She spoke to the old woman seated near the window, swept the front counter, and finally disappeared into the kitchen for a brief moment. Dorothea returned to Jack with a pastry in hand, the glaze was not yet dry and steam rose steadily off of its surface.

“One cinnamon bun, just for you,” she said as she set the plate down in front of him.

“Would you mind if I drew you?”

Dorothea blinked at the blond boy in surprise. She had never been asked such a question before.

“What?”

“You see, I’m an artist and I like to draw interesting people. I like the way you look, especially the way you’ve put up your hair. May I draw you?”

Dorothea shook her head a bit and forced a small smile.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s really appropriate. I, uh-“

“Excuse me, miss?” A customer called out for Dorothea’s attention providing her a way out of the conversation.

“I should go, um, handle whatever they need. Enjoy your food, sir,” And with that, Dorothea scurried away, sufficiently distracted by the strange request. Jack was undeterred and simply smirked in amusement at her flustered reaction before focusing on his sweet treats.

“He left a short while after that,” Dorothea finished her story of the day and pulled her covers up closer to her face. Angeline giggled wildly in her bed.

“He wanted to draw you and you said no? Was he handsome? What was his name?” The young girl rapidly fired questions at Dorothea who put her hand up to signal for quiet.

“I’ve kept the both of us up for long enough, we should both go to bed,” Dorothea reached for the table in between the two beds and turned the lamp off. She heard Angeline grumble under her breath and chuckled to herself. Jack was handsome, there was no denying it. But Dorothea was slightly put on edge by his strange request. Who would want to draw her? What would they gain? She pondered these questions until a deep sleep overcame her and she was lost to her dreams.

#Titanic #titanic x reader #Jack Dawson imagine #jack dawson x oc #jack dawson x reader #Jack Dawson #Titanic (1997)#rose dewitt bukater #1912 #leonardo dicaprio #AU #canon divergent au #new york city

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havocdream · 2 months ago

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Unheard and Unseen - Ten

Summary: With a message to the people of Thandaria, and a speech to a selected group of congress people, Vintra Selana shows her quality as a Galactic Senator. The Bad Batch prepare for departure, and Hunter makes one last action as Vintra's bodyguard.

Word count: 10.7k

Warnings: Political speeches | Anti-war stances | Very slight descriptions of a weapon | Some explicit descriptions of war violence | Descriptions of human pain

Notes at the end of chapter

Chapter nine -> Sunrays of blood

Masterlist

A world alive

Year 7.556 CRC, sixth month, thirtieth day.

Official speech of the Senator of Ederon Vintra Selana to the people of the planet Thandaria, Helcander System.

When an earthquake strikes the earth, nature sends a message of feeling ready for a new cycle. The extensive study of our soil over millennia has allowed us to understand these phenomena as releases of energy, accommodation of resources and, above all, opportunity for life. The movement of energy in our worlds is a reminder that they are alive. And that, therefore, life is possible.

When an earthquake strikes a civilization, nature sends a message to make us feel inferior to its power. Open ground destroys crops, necessary for life; vulnerable infrastructure threatens safety when the earth on which it stands shakes, and life as we know it disappears, as we must face a different terrain, with cracks in places where a park, a fountain, or a beautiful meadow once stood, where the reflection of sunlight on the green grass provided a warm, homey feeling. I am sure that what you see around right now has been enough to fill your hearts and minds with dread, or to feel abandoned and hopeless to trust again in what the future holds.

Our worlds are constantly shaken by events that rearrange our foundations, undo our plans and destroy our lives. Whether it is an earthquake, a debt, an illness or the death of someone close to us, we are exposed to this fear on many fronts. Thandaria suffered, for the first time in twenty years, a natural catastrophe of enormous magnitude, which has left the lives of over two hundred million citizens paralyzed in financial, commercial, social and, most importantly, personal sectors. The tally of lives lost is rising every second to numbers never before reached, the infrastructure equivalent to one hundred and thirty million jobs is unrecoverable, and the food of the entire population has been affected by the devastation of major agricultural fields. It is safe to say that the state of Thandaria falls within the definition of crisis, and my administration, in collaboration with the governing offices of the other planets in the Helcander System, will treat it as such.

On a much smaller scale than your situation, the last month I have been confronted with a type of fear that I thought I had forgotten. Losing one's life has always been one of the greatest fears of living beings. After millennia of existence, death is a natural phenomenon in every race that we still do not know how to master. But, despite always lurking around me, and ultimately being inevitable, I have counted on several teams that have made me feel safe and have protected me from all danger. Whether it be our honorable ederian guards, the competent Coruscant guard, or our brave clone troopers drawn from the very front lines, there has been someone by my side to ensure my protection. Not even in the leanest of times have I been abandoned.

As someone who has faced crippling darkness and knows how comforting it is to have such protection, it is impossible for me not to understand to a certain degree what you must be feeling right now, citizens of Thandaria. And to you I must make an outrageous request, in this hour of most desperate need. Please trust me. I do not plan to leave you alone, nor to ignore your problems to attend to my own. Let me be the hand that protects you, and gives you back your life, on whatever scale I can. I cannot promise you a cessation of natural disasters, but I can assure you that you will not be left without help when they strike.

Together with my team, we have passed a planetary bill for the Helcander System, aimed at alleviating the situation in Thandaria. We have suspended private projects in Ederon, Yuren and Vancron to redirect funds to the prompt relief of Thandaria. I urge citizens of neighboring planets to support the fundraising program so that we do not have to turn to the Banking Clan and acquire more debt than this Republic can afford because of the war. I have approached government charities to arrange an urgent donation, and the rest of the local governments in the Helcander System have made it a priority to allocate and distribute homes and jobs to any thandarian who wish to start regaining their lives as soon as possible. Our economic projections give us an estimated three to six years of full recovery.

Thandaria, I do not wish for us to work to put this tragedy behind us, but to carry it into our future as a reminder of the community we have created in Helcander, and the possibility of a galaxy united and focused on supporting its citizens. May you remember the power of your rulers, and the duty our positions demand in being of service to you. My goal is not only to give you back what you have materially lost, but to show each other that, by surviving the shocks of our worlds, we are able to rise and continue our fights.

The government of Helcander relies on its citizens, so it is only natural that you rely on it when you need it. And I know I didn't become a senator because I have something special or different from you. Which means that the resilience that lives in me lives in you, too. Neither in the Senate, nor in the broken land of Thandaria, will the forces that attack us be able to bring us down. For alone we have never been, and good has always prevailed.

I must remind you that the soil of Thandaria has made it known that it is alive, and that more life is possible. Let us bury our dead, offer them respect and memory, and thank them for their brave and high sacrifice, which I hope to repay by protecting the lives they have left behind, or the legacy I will not let be lost. Let us lift and rebuild your fallen world, Thandaria, now stronger than before. Let us acknowledge the helping hands, and not forget what we feel today. For tomorrow it may be someone else, someone who will surely need us.

For seven years I have worked to make sure that no one in our beloved System is left behind, and that the resources we possess reach everyone. It is time to demonstrate to you and the galaxy that a community that supports each other can overcome every crisis that comes its way, and that everyone's well-being is also our own.

I conclude by extending my admiration to the people of Thandaria, who, in waiting for help, have not hesitated to help each other to salvage what they can, and have even begun to work on their own recovery with their own hands. I have seen them take care of their children, their orphans, their animals, their plants.... Their elderly, their sick, their wounded. You have embraced the most important thing in your world: yourselves. And amid all this adversity, your messages of support and concern for me after my attack have touched my heart immensely. Your kind heart, which leads you to care about someone else during such a scenario, cannot be overlooked.

Thandaria, you inspire me. Your generosity is noted, and I will use all the power that resides in me as your senator to ease your pain and fear. And I promise you that together we will overcome this catastrophe.

It was beginning to get frustrating for Hunter that, despite taking step after step, he was going nowhere. The situation was the same: that was his last day as Vintra Selana's bodyguard. Which would be good, except that the mission didn't feel finished. The Senator of Ederon had just exposed to the press suggestions about the possible orchestrator of her attacks. A spotlight had been shone on Vice Admiral Stass, which, in many cases, would spark a direct war until a head rolled. How could he leave when the worst was just beginning?

And another question was forming more strongly alongside his growing concern: why did he care so much? Their mission was officially successful, they’d found the person responsible for the senator's attacks and now the rest could be handled by her network. They could stop wasting their time protecting a public figure and get back to their real work. Everything would go back to the way they knew it.

So why didn't he feel at ease?

“What are you doing?” the manly, gruff, unmistakable voice of Crosshair caught his attention. He was on his way to rest and had caught him midway through his intense internal debate, in the hallway outside the senator's apartment.

He had yet to tell his brothers that they’d been relieved of their services with the ederian, and would soon be reassigned back to the front lines, as usual. Partly because Hunter still had trouble with believing that the mission was really over.

“Do you think our job is done?” asked the defective unit sergeant. Maybe it was a burden he felt being the squad leader, maybe the rest of his brothers believed there was nothing more to do on Coruscant.

“You mean here? Of course not,” grumbled Crosshair, who pulled out a wooden toothpick and, as he leaned against the wall beside the door, placed it between his teeth. “No, in any case, we've earned a longer stay thanks to recent events... we were facing a shadow before, I'm afraid a Vice Admiral is worse,” commented the younger brother, not being of much help to the elder. Hunter folded his arms and sighed.

“Well, you're wrong. The senator has released us from duty, we return to the front tomorrow,” Hunter's words caused Crosshair to stop moving the wooden stick between his teeth, surprised at the news. “According to her, it's her way of paying us back after threatening us,” Hunter positioned himself in front of his brother, attentive to his opinion. Crosshair's right eyebrow was raised, intrigued, for of all the things he expected from Vintra Selana, that wasn't on his list. And he had a very long one already made.

“If a threat was what it took to get her to get rid of us, we would’ve provoked her from before we landed,” but Hunter denied.

“No, she said she owed us for saving her from the explosive and for discovering Stass,” Crosshair narrowed his eyes at Hunter's hesitant and frustrated look, for he’d been noticing for a while now that something was making him uneasy about the senator. It seemed that the ederian was spending a lot of time in his head, and it was never good when something dwelt too long in the sergeant's mind.

Hunter was an expert at tracking. His heightened senses made him probably the most lethal soldier in the army. Every living thing emitted electromagnetic waves thanks to its brain activity, which Hunter had been created to be able to detect. And, if combined with body odor and the sounds of breathing or heartbeat, he could decipher the deepest intentions of any enemy that hovered near him long enough.

If his mind was overly entertained with chasing trails that led him nowhere, it meant they were standing in a wasteland under a moonless night, impossible to distinguish who was watching them from the darkness around them, helpless against the blaster mouths aimed at them. If Vintra Selana was beginning to occupy Hunter's mind too much, it was because she emitted such strong frequencies, but impossible for him to discern or track. And if he didn't end up understanding those frequencies, it was impossible to know if the job was really finished.

“Well, then why do you seem to doubt it so much? If she says she doesn't need us anymore, then there's no reason for us to still be here,” Crosshair replied, his words sounding logical, entirely coherent. Hunter had no problem with seeing the reason in them. The problem was that he didn't care.

“Cross, she basically kicked us out because she feels guilty,” he tried to justify. Crosshair shrugged.

“And she should. I appreciate that her conscience won't leave her alone after what she did, and that she's facing the consequences of her actions,” Crosshair pressed his reasons to ease his brother's discontent, but didn't seem to succeed by the sergeant's even more conflicted look.

“If guilt’s the reason her decision’s right, then mine should be taken into account as well,” he proposed, and from his look Crosshair understood that that was a revelation just as startling to Hunter as it was to him. What was he talking about? “Look, imagine if the Vice Admiral were us...don't you think the scenario looks like Plan 72?” Crosshair was quick to recognize the pattern: distracting attack, enemy attention focused elsewhere except on the central target. Hunter softened his gaze as an idea crossed his mind. “If in three days a report appeared all over the news that the senator was killed, wouldn't it cross your mind that we could’ve prevented it? We know who’s responsible, we understand his strategy and we create and execute our plans based on that, in our own way,” Crosshair pondered what Hunter was trying to say, unable to ignore the valid point his brother was making. “I don't think I'd be able to explain to Ederon, and the rest of the planets in the Helcander System, why we left after discovering her killer... it’d seem as if we ran away from danger,” the indignation and offense that came from his throat as he uttered those words was enough to convey them to the sniper. Running away was worse than an insult and being linked to that action was worse than a failed mission for the bad batch. “Isn't it supposed to be our fucking job to assure civilians that we're protecting them? If we leave her in the middle of this mess it's almost the same as telling the entire Helcander System to fuck themselves,” and while the sergeant was entitled to ask all those questions, and have his doubts, for Crosshair the scenario looked different. If that was the senator's decision, no tongue in the galaxy could contradict it.

“You're starting to sound like her,” the platinum-haired clone pointed out, for Hunter's way of speaking was a bit different. Worrying about their role in the Republic or to an entire System wasn’t part of the way they operated and analyzed. They almost never projected their contributions as a squadron to general levels, they always acted for the good of those directly affected on the planet or sector they were sent to. It was as if he now understood that he was fighting for something more, and that protecting Senator Selana was protecting something much bigger than just a Coruscant politician.

Hunter let out a sharp sigh.

“I just don't like the idea of being pulled out of a hostile zone, especially when we're the only ones who can get the job done right,” the relaxed shoulders of the clone with the skull tattoo implied surrender. Even if everyone agreed with him, it was of no use if the mission was already over. He was surrendering to the idea of living with that burden, for there was no way to get rid of the uneasiness that leaving left him. It didn't matter if Vintra Selana died in a week or fifty years, Hunter feared that, by leaving, her death would be his responsibility.

“Hunter, so what do you want to do? The only one who can change things is the senator, and it seems she doesn't intend to... like it or not, our orders are to get the hell out of here,” seeing that his words elicited a defiant look in the sergeant, Crosshair looked at him more seriously. “And this is one of those orders you can't disobey,” he clarified as he tapped the sergeant's chest with his index finger. Hunter drew his lips in a grin.

“Now you sound like a reg commander,” was the last thing he said as his brother entered the apartment amid annoyed grunts.

But Hunter recognized the truth in Crosshair’s words, if they were sent to any other planet, their duty was to go to the aid of whoever needed it. Unlike millions of people in the galaxy, Vintra Selana was protected by the Coruscant guard, her few guards, and her huge information network.

Unfortunately, Hunter would have to live with the guilt. For, without being able to explain why, he knew that without them she wouldn’t survive that bill.

Vintra had tried to give in to sleep, she believed that the tiredness she felt and the sadness in her chest would slowly guide her into a world of silence and cozy darkness. But her conscience seemed to become her greatest enemy in those moments, and the restlessness of having to take advantage of every possible second to work forced her to get out of her comfortable bed and sacrifice more for the citizens, as if she had them all there in her room and was ashamed to go to rest while many of them were struggling that very night for a place to sleep or a bread for dinner. Who did she think she was to enjoy her privileges when others trusted her to help them?

In addition, a dread began to replace sleep with anxiety, and it wasn't long before Vintra thought it impossible to try to sleep again. The sergeant's warning a few hours ago, about the possibility that Vice Admiral Stass wasn’t working alone, and the whole strategy of directing her attention to him was only a distraction from the real danger that would strike from behind. And the thought that, when that happened, the sergeant would no longer be with her to protect her.

She kept telling herself over and over again that just because they were watching Stass didn't mean they had their guard down on the other fronts. After all, there were many more people in the galaxy who wanted to get rid of her, so even if they focused their attention on the Vice Admiral, it didn't mean she was unprotected. If someone else attacked her, they’d be able to foresee it.

If she repeated it to herself often enough, maybe she’d manage to believe it.

She read mail after mail and report after report with that same phrase in her head. She drafted letters and responded to reports and those words wouldn’t leave her mind. The night hours were even overshadowed by the presence of the murky mantra that Vintra kept repeating to herself, but until the first rays of sunlight began to peek over the far edges of the planet, she understood that it was in vain. She’d have to live with that fear.

However, when the shadows of the waning night still reigned in her room, a report digitally stamped with the words “confidential” stopped all the junk gears in her head and left only the vital ones running. It was a message from her network of informants, an urgent one.

It was written in code, since the galactic network was not necessarily reliable, even on an encrypted computer like hers. The symbols presented in the report were understood only by a small group of people chosen by Vintra Selana, whom they must’ve known personally. It was a system of letters invented by Mavan, which changed with each month and of which only two physical copies were made in the entire galaxy. One was held by Vintra, and the other by Ederon's elite information team.

What she was about to read was information that no one, not even the Chancellor, knew about.

Just as she suspected, it was an information update on the unknown outpost discovered on Druad, which followed the report she had received earlier in the week. What she read next alarmed her greatly.

Her contacts inside the planet tried to assess the location again but suffered the disadvantage that this time there appeared to be people inside, who opened fire and killed several of the scouts. Two managed to escape to report what they discovered and added that the operation they observed involved the possible extraction of thusten through illegal means, possibly related to smuggling. The report concluded with a notification that they had begun identification of those responsible for the operation. Upon completion, Vintra deleted the file.

It didn’t sound good. Vintra was aware that thusten smuggling existed, but it originated external to the System, for no one was so far-fetched as to risk entering a planet where hostile fire was always raining down. For a criminal, the risks of getting hold of the metal were less if they attacked separatist ships that left the planet with it. So, to know that someone had managed to set up a complete outpost to load thusten and export it by containers of their own, was a sign of something really dirty behind it.

First, because Druad was always blocked by Separatist and Republic forces around the planet. There were daily negotiations between the two sides to allow specific ships to pass through, so that the opposing side wouldn’t shoot them down. These were mostly civilian supplies, but more than once each side opened fire to send more troops and ammunition to the planet, so the battle of Druad began long before even entering its exosphere. It was impossible to enter the planet undetected. So, it could be two scenarios: One, they were stealing ships to infiltrate. Two, someone was giving them passage.

Second, there were no reports yet of thusten extraction by the Separatist Systems or the Republic, so they either didn't know or were hiding it. If they didn't know about it, it was a serious case, because it could imply that there were more extraction cases on the planet that no one knew about yet; someone was taking advantage of the fight for the thusten and all the clones and civilians died for a metal that a third party had already taken from there. On the other hand, if they were hiding it, it was a worse case, because it meant that someone was willing to make deals with criminals to use the war, and the murder of millions, as a mere distraction to appropriate the metal. The ceasefire in Druad was more necessary than ever.

The senator would love to be able to assess the place on her own, but she knew it was impossible. Druad was by far the worst front in the war at the time. Going into that place was insane, and even the clone troopers knew it.

But that didn't take away from Vintra's need to want to go, as she knew she required more evidence about the planet's scenarios to speak to the Senate about them, as everything was more convincing if they heard it from someone who’d seen it in person. Also, because, as the planet's chief spokesperson, she felt a responsibility for them to see it firsthand. She had to talk to them face to face to hear their needs and fears and be better able to convey them to the Senate. But she couldn't do that, because the journey was increasingly terrifying and unsettling. And impossible to survive. She needed an absurd kind of preparation, a security that not even the clones protecting her those days could provide.

Or could they?

“Senator?” the sergeant's voice, accompanied by three knocks on her door, made her jump from her seat. Her room was already bathed in warm rays of light, time had slipped away from her with her mind so focused on the recent news. “The construction crew will begin installing your blinds.”

It had been a busy day, typical of the last breath of the laboring week. Hundreds of meetings with some of her staff had piled up to attend to the needs of the Helcander System, in addition to reviewing her vote on dozens of other bills that were still pending in the Senate. She spent the entire morning on calls with senators explaining the point of their bills, hoping to convince her to grant them her support.

And while Vintra could do two things at once, on this occasion she seemed distracted from the present. Her gaze fixed elsewhere as she listened to important words from congressmen preoccupied with their own bills. Her heart was restless, as if instead of an organ the only thing inhabiting her was a balloon filled with air that inflated and deflated to replace something real and vital. Her legs and hands moved with a certain desperation, as if she were waiting for something.

Hunter, of course, didn’t let that attitude pass. He knew the senator was uneasy about something, probably the annoying noise of the construction crew installing the protective curtains from the other side of the glass windows. Perhaps it was the feeling of vertigo she imagined as she watched them dangle from the building on ropes nine floors above the ground. Or maybe it was the nerves of knowing she’d be without her security team that had protected her so well in the past few days.

Or maybe it was something else, some news from her information network about Druad or Ederon. Hunter reminded himself that Vintra Selana was a Galactic Senator, and he’d seen her deal with more frustrating situations, make decisions that pushed her beyond her own limits. She’d only just learned that the person who had saved her from killing herself was now seeking to take it upon himself to finish what he’d once prevented.

She must’ve had bigger concerns than dispatching her security team. Perhaps it was he who was projecting his own fears onto the senator's insecure behaviors.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. I’ve heard your concerns and opinions, rest assured that I’ll keep them in mind whenever I evaluate alternatives so that my bill doesn’t intervene with these disquietudes,” the senator's melodious and gentle voice echoed back into the venue after several minutes, in which different senators laid out all the reasons why they were still withholding their vote regarding the Druad ceasefire bill. Vintra had organized a meeting with thirty representatives, hoping to turn her situation around and regain the twenty votes she’d lost the day before, in addition to those that her opposition had taken advantage of in gaining after the closing of the Senate Building and the postponement of the general assembly.

In the background, the hammering of metal against metal and the sizzle of welding should’ve made the senator's voice seem drowned out, vulnerable and even at a disadvantage. Instead, she sounded like the lead voice of an aggressive symphony chorus. Rather than sounding uncomfortable from the inconvenient external noise, it was as if the rumbling on the walls gave her words an authoritative and fierce effect. Like thunderclaps of anger venting to the sound of a cruel goddess' voice.

“I’m aware that Senators Carsen, Liepin, and Farwan have spoken with you as well, about ways in which in exchange for your votes you’d get benefits from the profits of business done with the thusten, as well as royalties for your contribution to the metal industry, which could boost the economy of the Systems you represent, and even secure you all one more term in office among your constituents,” Vintra leaned back on her comfortable gray meeting couch, rested her right arm on the surface of the backrest, and her other hand on her left thigh. In the long black dress, tight to her slender and curvaceous body, she looked elegant and majestic, like the mistress of all opinion and truth when she took that pose. The white, elbow-length sleeves, which opened from her elbows and fell like dancing veils on the skin of her arms to her knees, counterbalanced the touch of the dress with a pure and solemn one, which dominated over all black hidden and conspiratorial intentions with white justice and gentleness.

“As well as votes for our bills,” added one of the senators at the meeting, whose name Hunter couldn’t remember at all. He was a tarsunt, representing the Suntilla System. Vintra raised an eyebrow and pointed her hand at the senator, as if conceding another point in favor of her opposition.

“Yes, you’d be very well spoiled in exchange for a mere vote,” she remarked amid faint derisive laughter. “So, in essence, I should offer you something even greater or beneficial to win your support, right?” the senators turned to look at each other, almost with excited and triumphant expressions, as if what they’d waited for months was finally arriving at their doorstep. An offer from Vintra Selana. “I'm not offering you a shit.”

Almost as if the construction team knew what those words implied, the noise of their work was interrupted at that moment. An eerie silence intruded as the main character in the meeting. Vintra even noticed that she could let it settle on the senators' minds and chests for a moment, so it’d made their postures and countenances uncomfortable. She kept her sly smile, she knew it’d add to the uncertainty of her colleagues, and even provoke annoyance and anger. She needed to unsettle them.

“Why should I offer you anything in return for your support against a massacre? It seems to me that I’d be spoiling your interests as political leaders, and I’d give the opportunity to my opponents to believe that they can keep offering more and more benefits in exchange for you turning your vote again... I don't have time for these fuck-arounds, dear colleagues,” her smile disappeared, and her cheerful amethyst gaze turned into bloody wine. The nervousness that gnawed at her was replaced by fury, she felt she’d turn into a flame of fire if she didn’t stop, for the idea of having to beg for votes was already beginning to tire and sicken her. Innocents were dying, and those scoundrels were so used to demanding something for themselves that they allowed such barbarities for the sake of making some profit. “Why should you vote for the cease-fire in Druad? I want you to remember your own history, the roots from which your freedom and autonomy as a race comes. Have you not asked yourselves what’s your reason for standing every day in front of all your people? Is there not an ounce of honor towards the sacrifice of thousands of years of evolution and effort with which you want to contribute to history?

All of you here share the same origin: you come from conquered planets. Millennia ago, the Republic fought against your ancestors, seeking expansion and sovereignty over the thousands of planets that were added to the galactic map, and millions of your planet’s resources were appropriated until they disappeared. Wasn't the magalyte a precious stone of Macrasia, valued as the jewel of the gods and whose excavation was forbidden by the ancestral civilization? Eirena, surely you remember that the Republic didn’t care much for the cultural weight of that jewel, now scattered in the galaxy and only accessible to nobles or aristocrats with enough capital to pay for it as an accessory, unable to comprehend what for some was an empyrean gift.

And maybe the Republic was right, it was just a beautiful and scarce stone, maybe they did them a favor. But what about the xidonite, Lauxander? Three centuries of slavery the arxains suffered at the hands of the nobles of the neighboring planet Nereirea for the precious mineral. Rumor had it that it was the best conductor of heat at the time, and the Republic gladly fought for your people’s freedom in exchange for being granted authority over the xidonite. Didn't they abandon your people halfway through the war, when it was discovered that the ore's lifespan was only three years? It took nearly five hundred years before Arxana, at its moment of extreme crisis, developed a method to extend the effective time of the material and could offer it to the Republic in exchange for on-planet investment.

I could mention cases about each of your Systems, but I think I’ve managed to remind you of them, haven't I? Now, I must ask you, are we not fortunate that we didn’t live in those times? It’s thanks to those sacrifices that our planets now enjoy excellent exuberance, but there’s such a difference in the conditions of today and before that we seem to have moved away from the true value that the purchase of our planets meant at the time.

But Druad? Before our eyes we have a similar case. The opposition has been showered with arguments attempting to convince you that the drulium appropriation is in Druad's best interest in terms of its socio-economic growth projections. Based on what I ask? They seemed to be fine without the Republic, and have made it clear that they don't intend to exchange anything but tourist asylum, because... how could they contribute to our great intergalactic network?

The rulers of Druad were wise to analyze the possibility of becoming involved in a larger machine, for they realized that they’d be a tiny part of an immense whole. As a planet dependent only on its star material, when it was exhausted, they'd be mere puppets of more powerful planets. Were you not excited about what kind of gifts I’d offer you? Were you not already willing to sell your own autonomy to someone who could pay you well? Or worse, would you hesitate to give me your vote if, thanks to my network, I threatened to expose confidential information about your Systems? Or secrets of yours?

Druad wants no part of this, it’d be their end. And the fact that this Republic, and you Galactic Senators, find the idea that the Separatists want drulium more abhorrent than the fact that we’re murdering millions of innocents in the name of self-defense, is to go back thousands of years in our quest for a just and benevolent democratic system. And to still doubt how to exercise your vote, when you’ve descended from a history like Druad's, is an insult to your ancestors.

Remember that you haven’t achieved your landscapes of today thanks to the help of the Republic, but despite it. Your riches were drained, who knows if today your worlds would be almost as powerful as Chandrila or Corellia. Or if they'd be home to so much life capable of reproducing several beings fit to become Jedi. And Druad will no longer be, thanks to the destruction the violent response with which we have “protected” their lands. Whether it was the Republic's intention or not, the reality is that, instead of improving the planet, the numbers and reports show only destruction. Isn't it enough? Shouldn't we open a channel of negotiation, for the sake of the druadan?

We have the evidence that Druad never wanted to be part of our political network, also that the Republic took advantage of the convenient death of the regents, who refused to collaborate, to impose a government alien to the natives of the planet, and on top of that without their consent. All this time, our government has been part of a not even subtle plan to take the drulium from them, we’d continue to support this violation of the law if it weren’t for the Jedi Order discovering a copy of the autonomy treaty, does that tell you nothing of what you refrain from supporting? A foul game has been played under our noses, and I’m not willing to turn my eyes away.

No, I offer you nothing to make you do the right thing, senators. I remind you of where you come from, and I dare you to turn your eyes with what’s now taking place in front of you.”

The morale of those present in each hologram fell to the foundations of the crest of corpses upon which they posed. Senator Selana's words had them projected there, with thousands of characters beneath their feet with their gazes set upon them. It was easy to forget a history they were never a part of in the flesh, but it didn't take them long to project a different world against the current landscape when Vintra Selana spoke with that sharp and direct intonation. It was also not hard to see their disadvantage when they saw her with such might, as one of the most powerful politicians in the Republic thanks to her world’s own resources and history, despite also possessing a past of slavery and exploitation.

Vintra didn’t soften her countenance, and didn’t pretend to regret any words. She looked at those present with disapproval and accusation. And, when she saw in their faces that there was still hesitation, she leaned across the table and displayed a lurid hologram. ��

Images of the exact moments when civilians were being hit by Republic missiles, Separatist tanks crushing druadan bodies and animals still alive, children and old people screaming in horror as their bodies were reached by explosion fire. Civilians with skin diseases from the gases and chemicals used to fight the enemy, corpses of malnourished people, animals incinerated and on the verge of collapse from the pain of their mutilated bodies. Screams, tears, blood, organs, vomit, and death. So much death that Vintra made sure that there wouldn’t be a day that the senators present weren’t reminded of such horrors.

For the first time in his life, Hunter felt an inexplicable sense of defeat. As if after long days of siege, his ammunition had run out, and his brothers defeated. As if he was the only one left, surrounded by a burning field and by an enemy army that ordered him to kneel and raise his hands if he wished to preserve his insignificant life. As if the future outlook was black, far from a life devised long ago, which he faced with his head down and his strength exhausted.

He could say that he’d seen everything on the front lines, which was no lie. And of course, there were such scenes on every planet to which they were sent. But Druad's case was different for many reasons.

He hadn’t confessed it to the senator, for he knew that it wasn’t his place to give political opinions openly. Besides, he wasn't sure if a clone should be meddling in issues like Druad's. But it was unavoidable how he felt. He was against military occupation on a planet with no Senate representation and such a high level of hostility that they hadn’t yet been sent to the planet because the Operation Center considered it too unsafe to send such a valuable squadron.

It wasn’t news to the soldier platoons how aggressive the battlefield was on Druad, and every time one was sent, it was almost like receiving a final death sentence. No squad returned alive, and almost all the ammunition needed elsewhere was sent as a priority to the battalions in Druad. The horrors of those trenches were only told through rumors, based on short transmissions that managed to be sent from the planet, known for not having proper communication channels. The few details of their descriptions, accompanied by the obvious massacre of soldiers who were sent away and never returned, fed the imagination of what was being experienced.

And, if soldiers trained and willing to die for a Republic were wiped out in that way, he didn’t dare to imagine children, animals or any other being foreign to any kind of war violence, receiving the same fire as they did. It was an act beyond outrageous and monstrous. Senator Selana was absolutely right to demand a ceasefire.

Contrary to the afterglow of the previous day, the rays of a sun that was already lost behind the most distant buildings in sight painted the sky a tender pink, like faint vestiges of an ancient and past fierce bloodbath. With that scene, which evoked a fading feeling of a great event, Hunter finally received the report of their next mission.

Kashyyyk, the home planet of the Wookies.

It almost seemed ironic. At last, they were assigned to a planet they wanted so much to visit, to test their ability of the language of the admirable creatures, to learn their culture and to fight with them against their enemies; but even that wasn’t able to erase from his chest the cold feeling of leaving the senator behind. Hunter knew it was wrong to depart if he wasn't excited to get on the road at once to his next destination. Especially if it was Kashyyyk.

“Sir?” he was snapped out of his mind by the Coruscant guard in front of him. He’d forgotten the reason he had gone to open the door of the senator's apartment. It was more than obvious that he needed to get some rest at once.

“Yes, you sure it has the specs I gave you?” he replied after shaking his head and taking the package handed to him by the clone. The latter sneered, indignant that a defective clone would get authoritative with him. Hunter was in no mood to make a scene.

“Of course I am,” his tone almost drove him out of his mind, but he restrained himself with all his might and just dismissed the soldier so he could go back inside. The senator had just finished letting out a long sigh as she lounged gracelessly on her S-shaped couch. She’d worn her hair down all day, but now it looked tousled and worn, as if from it she drew all the energy to endure hours of meetings without stopping to talk or discuss extensive topics of great importance to an entire population.

Hunter approached her and noticed her consumed. Her eyelids were throbbing shut from how hard she was pushing herself; her chest was rising with such size in search of air as if she’d just swum miles against an aggressive current, and her pulse was on the verge of a heart attack. He didn't think there was anything more important right now to her safety than her rest, and he had to make sure he left her in good hands, so he had to finally get her to sleep.

“Senator,” he said after making sure Vintra relaxed to normal pulse and breathing. He spoke softly, as he also didn't want to exalt her now that all her vital signs were beginning to slow down. Vintra slowly opened her eyes, which bore straight into the clone's golden orbs, as if they unconsciously knew the place they wished to land, without needing direction or help.

Vintra smiled.

“Ah, yes. Have you received your next mission yet?” she straightened into the seat and settled herself to better address the sergeant, who was positioned standing next to the couch. She noticed he was holding a package, perhaps necessary for his trip to the assigned planet.

Hunter tensed his jaw, no emotion or relief showing in his expression. “Yes, we'll leave as soon as the boys finish loading their gear,” as those words flooded the air, a fleeting emptiness shot through both of their stomachs, like a spear of ice cutting and piercing. Vintra forced a smile. It didn't take Hunter long to notice it, he was too experienced to notice false expressions. He'd noticed that same grimace on the senator the first time they'd met. Except, this time, there was no rejection.

“Nice, well...I thank you very much for your services. I know we got off on the wrong foot...and it stayed that way, truth be told, but I'm grateful for your performance, sergeant. For the last time, I'm alive because of you, and that's all that’ll matter when I have to weigh in on you and your squadron,” she spoke, in what Hunter tried to interpret as a farewell.

He looked at her for a few seconds and contemplated her day-to-day life from now on. Would her guards really be prepared to monitor her safety? How would they know if her food wasn't poisoned? How would they be aware of spy droids? Would she remember the choreographed sniper escape they’d practiced the first night? How well would they check that the filtered air in the apartment was free of toxins?

He didn't know from where or why such a need to protect her had arisen, but now it seemed to be in control of him. Perhaps he’d been captivated by the way she worked. Ruthless, but on the right side. He still felt repulsed by her threats and dirty plays, but he couldn't deny that it was intriguing to see her wield such power to obtain something that, for him, was ultimately good: Druad's liberation.

There was something about her and the way she spoke and believed in such absurd ideals that whispered in the farthest part of his brain how important she was to the galaxy. He wished to see more of her, the way she managed to turn her situations around and was interested in the people she represented.

He remembered that she was still the senator who condemned the use of clones as an army and that probably if she won her bill, she’d proceed to propose the entire dismantling of the military. But now he understood better who she was, and the reasons she might have for advocating such an idea. He still thought war was inevitable and necessary. But not in Druad; and, in those moments, that was what Vintra Selana was trying to accomplish.

“You know, when you lost Senator Haan's twenty votes, I thought it’d be a more complicated situation for you,” he changed the subject, unwilling to say goodbye to her until the last second when Tech would inform him that everything was ready for their departure. Besides, the senator was still awake, and, at that moment, raising one of her brown eyebrows in some disbelief. “But in one afternoon you got thirty,” he applauded, though it didn't seem that Vintra received it as a compliment.

“Sergeant, I spent an entire night researching the history of hundreds of planets, looking for those that shared similarities with Druad's case, and on top of that going over hundreds of plenaries and bills from so many senators with malleable character but honorers of their word and good causes.... I needed these votes because I plan to get thirty more tomorrow, and the day after tomorrow, and the day after that until I get to the next plenary with a battalion I feel confident with,” she expounded fervently, incredulous that the sergeant believed she’d gotten all that support by sheer luck. If only it were that simple. “Your brother, Tech, helped me quite a bit. I think I'll miss him the most.”

It shouldn't surprise him, Tech had been intrigued and admired by the senator all along, unbiased about her and even willing to be of any help he could to her bill. He was glad to hear that she appreciated her brother's efforts, and to know that Tech had been able to accomplish what he’d set out to do.

However, he was disappointed to hear that, because even though he was the one who’d saved her life, she wouldn’t miss him as much as the one who’d helped her get thirty votes on her bill. It was just natural; he already knew that Vintra Selana put that fight above her own life. But he still couldn't shake the disappointment of the revelation.

“Hmm, you'll have to rest for that, senator. Your brain holds out to a certain limit, and you've passed it long ago,” the clone suggested in a dragging voice, tired as well, as if trying to pass the feeling on to her. Vintra's eyelids drooped, and he could tell she was having trouble keeping them open. But, even looking like that, she closed her eyes and shook her head decisively.

“If I could, I would, sergeant. But how can I afford such a luxury? Right now, parents in Druad are finding the corpses of their children. Children of their parents. Entire families are wiped out, legacies lost, and entire ecosystems destroyed. In Thandaria, they’re still digging through the rubble in search of trapped people, without rest and food... I—”

Vintra opened her eyes and found the clone squatting a few inches away to her left, his gaze below hers, and suggesting truce. It was the last time they’d see each other, so this time he wasn't going to order her anything or let her impose her wishes with threats or idiocy. That's why he was bending down to her height, to ask her for a last requisition. Vintra looked at him in surprise, her heart quickening its pace at finding him so close without having realized he had moved. And the way he looked at her, tired too after all that mission in which he almost gave his life for her, made her feel that they were on the same square of the board.

It had been a tremendous adventure for both of them.

“Resting is also taking care of your people,” he spoke in a patient, gentle voice. It was the first time Vintra had heard him in that tone, and it sent a sense of security and care that she soon felt absent. In a couple of hours, she’d lose that forever. “The last thing your security team needs in the middle of an attack is for your body to collapse from exhaustion,” she laughed at the scenario, not taking it seriously. “We've put an incredible amount of effort into protecting you, too much for you to perish due to your lack of cooperation.”

Vintra couldn't help but chuckle with light laughter, thanks to the tone in which Hunter was chiding her. She found it funny that the sergeant was too tired to invest energy in disdainfully complaining to her about her uncooperativeness. It was their least aggressive argument.

“You, sergeant, have really taught me that everything can be a safety issue,” her eyes closed heavily, but Vintra forced herself to open them again. “You could make an excellent life insurance salesman,” but she only heard the clone's weary sigh.

“Do you know how snow wolves hunt?” he asked, in a low tone of voice, just for her to hear, and as if he wanted to be careful not to startle her if she raised it any higher. Vintra looked into each of his honey orbs, then shook her head. “When they find a horde, they keep their distance while they inspect it, looking for any animals weaker than the rest, either by age or physical condition. The horde becomes desperate when the wolves don't leave after a long time, and panic eventually forces it to flee. In the chaos, the wolves have already chosen a target and begin their pursuit. Even if the prey is faster, if it is weakened the wolves must only increase that condition. They take turns leading the charge, bite the prey on their paws, assault and terrify it, they can do it for miles if necessary. The prey, after running and being wounded, unable to stop to regain strength for a moment, becomes so weak that the wolves manage to kill it,” he explained, and his words managed to make Vintra's hair stand on end as she placed her face on that of a helpless animal, and Stass's on that of a huge snow wolf. A lump formed in her throat, which she struggled to swallow in an attempt to push away the discomfort. “Just because others are protecting you, doesn't mean you don't have to do your part. It's your life that's at risk,” he pointed out in rhyme of a phrase she’d said to him the day before about being thankful for her life. Vintra instantly remembered that conversation and her own words. “Right now, you are the ideal prey at the perfect time.”

Vintra felt in danger at the frightening thought of not having enough energy to run from Stass's clutches. What if having her in veil was also part of his plan?

“I need you to rest, please,” blurted the soft voice of the sergeant in front of her, who closed his eyes as he blinked, and took a while until he reopened them. Vintra swallowed saliva and furrowed her eyebrows in concern.

Hunter noticed the fear that invaded her body, as if she didn’t want to enter the uncertainty of the darkness of a deep sleep. He’d seen it on the hostile front, for different reasons. The fear of bodily deceleration after shocking events, of letting one's guard down. Many developed the ability to sleep with one eye open, and others lost their wits completely.

He had no doubt that Vintra Selana had terrifying dreams, but she had to take the risk to gain some rest. In any case, these were dangers beyond Hunter’s reach. It was up to her to face them alone.

Vintra sealed her eyelids and sighed heavily. Her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she allowed her exhaustion to take full control of her body. Hunter felt relieved that she was yielding to his request, and it’d give him some peace of mind to know that, when she woke up without them as bodyguards, she’d at least be lucid enough to face any danger with strength.

“Very well. I give you my vote,” Vintra's neck lost strength, and the slight nod that almost sent her forward towards the sergeant forced her to stay awake a while longer. Hunter smiled slightly in amusement at the sight of her, and without taking his gaze from her began to open the package he still held in his hands.

Vintra massaged the back of her neck as she listened to the sound the sergeant made as he opened the package. Her eyes remained closed.

“I apologize for the delay, we had to order a special one for you,” the sergeant said, which got Vintra's attention and made her open her eyes again. In front of her laid a small sized blaster, barely the length of the clone's hand. Vintra looked at him in surprise, then at the blaster. “There aren't many of this size with enough stun power to be effective, so Tech worked on its modifications. You can easily hide it under your robes. It has no live fire and will only be useful to you if your attacker is within two meters, so you'll only use it when you have no other choice,” he explained, rather patiently and almost kindly.

The device was a little larger than Vintra's hand, and the grip was slim, so she could cover it with all her fingers. It was silver, and written on one side were his initials. It almost looked like a toy.

Vintra blinked several times, like mental slaps, to make sure that what she saw wasn’t unreal. That was the first time she’d reach out for a gun in ten years, when her own fingers pulled the trigger of a gun pointed inside her head, which Vice Admiral Stass had deflected just at the last second to manage to save her life.

“This is the last thing I can offer you as a safety measure, and I really hope you never have to use it,” Hunter said, and pointed to a small switch on the side of the gun, at the top of the handle. “That's the safety, always keep it in that position, unless you must shoo—”

After noticing Vintra's lower lip tremble, and the corners of her eyes flood with tears, the last thing Hunter thought would happen was for Senator Selana to throw herself at him and wrap him in a disconsolate, trembling embrace. Light sobs burst in his ear as Vintra clung tighter and tighter to him, and it took Hunter a couple of seconds to take in the reaction of the most powerful ederian in the galaxy.

“Thank you, sergeant,” she said in delicate whispers with moist intonations. He wasn't sure what exactly she was thanking him for, whether for saving her life in the Senate, swallowing her threats, offering her a blaster capable of only stunning... or all together.

And he recognized the scent of fear she was giving off at that moment, too. The senator had a bold way of trying to regain her honor, as she faced a war without her best shields, something that terrified her, but she’d rather make amends for her abuse of power than watch over her own life. Hunter still saw it as a lousy decision, but he also respected the ederian's intentions.

And because he couldn't help but feel concern for her, his arms were quick to wrap around her as well in a farewell embrace, which conveyed a sense of protection to Vintra that made her shed more fearful tears of what her future might bring.

But they both knew one thing, and it was that Vintra Selana wasn’t a woman of weak will or character. They both feared for her life, but even if she was defeated, they knew that she wouldn’t go down without putting up a good fight, and that with her life or her death she’d be sure to raise a wave of resistance and chaos so that the druadan would survive another day. That woman wasn’t easy to bring down.

“You'll be fine, senator.”

The Havoc Marauder's hatch closed behind the sergeant of the clone squadron that inhabited it, and the sound of the engine and impulse charge for the jump into hyperspace made their departure from the great planet of Coruscant, Capital of the Galaxy, more real than ever.

“All set for takeoff.”

Tech announced from the pilot's seat. He heard him discuss with Wrecker and Crosshair additional configurations for their landing on Kashyyyk, but his voice was drowned out as Hunter advanced into the ship's interior in search of glorious repose. Not only physically, for he was enveloped by a terrible feeling of emptiness that he couldn’t remedy with anything.

Once in his bunk, despite being in a comfortable and familiar environment for him, it took him a while to follow the invisible trail that would slowly lead him to the bewildering black hole of rest. In his mind, there were more active currents, stinging at the edges of his head with voltages in the form of purple eyes and long dresses. He was too tired to fight his own mind according to the course it wished to take, but there were routes that wouldn't let him sleep either.

They had spent five days on Coruscant assigned to the care of a senator, and he had to admit that it hadn’t been as he had expected it to be. Of all the things he imagined they’d see as soon as they landed on the capital planet, very few had come true.

Being in charge of a politician, in the sergeant's head, would’ve meant encountering resistance from her to their security measures, which had happened, but also being dragged to fake public meetings that’d push campaigns for useless bills, long days in which they’d witness injustices in which they’d have no authority to raise their voice, constant meetings full of stupid talk baptized as arguments about war, economy and society. He really expected to encounter every scene that would explain the inequalities and irregularities in the planets to which they were sent.

On many of them, they had problems completing missions safely because of the lack of supplements for them, for civilians and for native soldiers. In many other cases, the evacuation process was complicated by political issues and many citizens died due to the inefficiency of their government. In others, senators forced workers not to vacate plants even though they were in the field of fire, because of contracts that determined the economy on which thousands depended. And in others, the answers from their representatives never reached the most remote places, as if they weren’t interested in the problems of the most vulnerable.

Not to mention their own experiences, where requesting equipment or instructions was only a success on planets of high political interest, such as Geonosis or Ryloth. But there were cases where getting the necessary permissions was bogged down in discussions in the Senate war committees, where senators influenced and gave the go-ahead according to particular interest in the bills they were fighting for, or simple revenge against a rival. Actions that citizens without resources paid for to the extent of even costing them their own lives.

But that wasn’t what had happened when accompanying Senator Selana for so many days. The only thing they had seen her do was work. Meetings in which she discussed real issues in the System she represented, court hearings regarding the violation of a treaty of independence, hours without rest in which she read reports of catastrophes on planets outside her direct jurisdiction, and in which she wrote reports on suggestions for ways to support to provide financial assistance from her office’s reserved funds or to motivate her own System to collaborate with donations.

Hunter had seen it all firsthand, and still found it hard to believe that Vintra actually worked hard for the welfare and service of the Republic. It implied that what he criticized so much might not be due to the processes in politics, and it made him uncomfortable to think about the alternatives of those responsible for so much injustice.

What if they were the ones to blame, as the senator criticized so much? The plans they followed, the places they attacked, the orders the rest of the regs obeyed. Or maybe it really was the higher ups in the Republic, people like Vice Admiral Stass or those who had violated the Druad autonomy treaty and killed so many druadan for the thusten.

If that was the case, he had to admit that the battle arena on Coruscant was terrifying. Distinguishing friend from foe was impossible, relying on contacts and resources, such as the senator's network, were key to survival. Threats were never visible, and a single handshake could seal the fate of thousands and the work of months of a group seeking justice. It wasn’t as simple as shooting the opponent, since on Coruscant they were untouchable.

Moreover, Hunter would know if the senator's concern for the least heard was only a facade. But it wasn't, for every meeting she approached she did it with her full attention and dedication, and didn't rush anyone else to resolve something that fell within her responsibility. Every aspect of Druad's case was worked on by herself. She was putting her own life on the line to attend to that bill herself.

It wasn’t what he had expected to find, and he had to admit that perhaps he misjudged her. There was still much to learn about her, and now more than ever he was eager to know why she was so interested in a planet outside her responsibility. Was there something at stake for her, perhaps Druad's favor over free routes for her information network, or to gain power in some way? But if not, why was she doing it? What was so appealing about risking her life and fighting against the current in the galaxy's deadliest snake pit?

Hunter didn't know if he really wanted to know the answer. He found himself hesitant because it could imply that maybe, at the end of it all, he’d be right all along and she was just a corrupt politician; she had already let him down once, even if the reason they were leaving was precisely because she was trying to right that wrong. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he wanted to be wrong about her either, otherwise he’d be closer to admitting that, maybe, he liked her a little.

As soon as the Bad Batch made the jump to hyperspace and Coruscant was left a million miles behind him, Hunter couldn't help but think that for all that Vintra Selana was, he was sure that he had never met anyone like her before.

aaaaand that's it!!! For part one, of course :)

Thank you so much if you've get until here! I really really appreciate the time and effort you put in keeping up with this story. We have finally finished starting our engines. And, same kind of note I wrote in the prelude, I want to update some of the heads up concerning what's coming.

I still have many plots up my sleeve, the darkest ones are still on hold to debut. Some have been mentioned already, and I wanted to drop an easter egg in this one but just couldn't find where. I'm really excited to get there.

Also, there are still some characters that haven't showed up yet, like Vintra's main oppositor: Senator Carsen. Remember the name ;) And there weren't many references to the clone wars in this first part… well, that's gonna change in this second part.

As for the second part, I need to tell you something. First, it's gonna be a little bit larger than the first one, maybe five more chapters. It's an intense drama, I'm trying to make it feel really desperate and that everyone has a hard time, the characters, the readers and, well, me too! The main stage's gonna be the Supreme Court, there are gonna be a lot of antagonists annnnnd Vintra will have to fight with all her might to survive this new challenge.

Now, second, look… I really wanted to finish this first part because I'm about to enter in my work and my personal life a period that needs my entire attention. So, I'm not gonna be able to translate or edit anything properly, or I'm gonna delay so much in updates in the middle of a new part and I don't want that, I prefer to stop here when it has this feeling that a chapter's over, like if a first season is over, and then come back with regular updates and all that. How much? Well, I need two months :S Around the middle of November I promise I'll surprise you with an update and the start of the next part! Also because there's gonna be a timeskip in the story, conveniently of two months as well. So by doing this we'll all feel really the amount of time Vintra's gonna be gone from our lives, and also Hunter!

I also want to focus on reading more fics in this time, especially senator-clone centeres so I'm careful not to write something that's already been thought. If you have some recommendations, please please let me know about them!

With that said, I must thank you again for the support of this story. I'm really happy someone wanted to click on it and keep reading what I had the need to write, and I told myself at the beginning "don't worry if nobody reads, comment or leaves kudos, you're doing it for yourself as well" but I can't deny how excting it is to read your comments and see the number of kudos increasing, or the reblogs in tumblr and likes. The mentions in posts recommending this story and the small interactions with other authors! I'm really grateful for this experience, and I can't wait to come back to this!

Thank you, really, for everything!! And me and Vintra will see you in two months!!

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