#jaster x reader

[vodika-vibes]

Love Is Kind

Summary: When your father moved your family to Mandalore in an attempt to court the various clans on behalf of the Republic, you were obligated to go with him, even though you were in your twenties. You really should have known that you were brought along in the hopes that one of the warriors of Mandalore would pick you as their bride. Too bad for your father that you’ve always known your own mind.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1182

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, also Montross is a creep

Tagging: @bad4amficideas @justiceandwar98 @Mira-Loves-Star-Wars @tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar @trixie2023 @kimiheartblade @padawancat97

@falconfeather23435 @etod @bb8-99 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: I'm in a Jaster mood and I'm making it all of your problems. Sorry, not sorry. Also, I'm not sure why but tumblr isn't letting me tag some of you. I'm sorry.

Click HERE to join my taglist!

“Good morning, Princess,”

You stifle your eye-roll with the ease of long practice when the familiar, and grating, voice of Montross reaches your ears. The shudder is a lot harder to hide, as his hand slides across your shoulders, but you manage it.

“Good morning, Montross,” You greet as you turn on your stool to regard the much larger man. “I wasn’t aware that you had returned to Mandalore.”

His smile makes your skin crawl, “Did you miss me?”

You smile and neatly side-step his question, “How was your mission?”

He drops onto the stool next to you, his arm still thrown over your shoulder, and he leans into your personal space. “It was amazing. I came face to face with a Jedi.” He boasts, “Killed him too.”

“Hm. Is that right?”

“Oh yeah. Wasn’t even a challenge.” He pushes his hand through his hair, in a movement that was probably supposed to be attractive, but really wasn’t. 

You flash a close-mouthed smile, “If it wasn’t hard, Montross, then how can you know it was a Jedi?”

“He had a lightsaber.”

“Those aren’t Jedi specific,” You point out, “Anyone can use a lightsaber. Jedi just use them well.”

“Aw, come on, Princess. You don’t think I could do it?”

“I think if you came face-to-face with a Jedi, we’d be having a funeral right now.” You reply before you duck under his arm.

“Sometimes, Princess, you are so very Republic.”

“What can I say? I like Jedi.”

“You’re a Mandalorian now, sweetheart. You should start thinking like one.” Montross says as he leans a little closer, close enough that you can feel the heat from his skin against yours.

“I think you’ll find that I’m not.”

“You will be when you marry me.”

At that, you turn to look at him. “Not even if you were the last man in the galaxy.” You really should be polite, but you’re done with him and you’re done being polite to him. So you flick your fingers in his direction, “Shoo fly, you’re bothering me.”

You’re aware, vaguely, of offense crossing his face, and you grimace as he stands up so sharply that his stool goes flying. 

And then he leans over you, trapping you between the counter and his armor, “Your smart mouth is going to get you in trouble.” Montross warns.

You’re about to reply when another voice, a little deeper but much more welcome to your ears, interrupts, “Come on, verd. She said she’s not interested. This is just embarrassing.”

Montross straightens, “Jaster,” His lip curls, “If she’s not into me, she definitely won’t be into you.”

You turn on your stool again and catch Jaster’s eye, a real smile crossing your face as he winks at you. “I’m not so sure about that, Montross,” Jaster replies with a smug smirk.

You watch an ugly shade of red slide across Montross’ face, and then he stalks out of the restaurant. “He might actually try to hurt you one day, Jaster.” You warn.

“He can try.” Jaster picks up Montross’ abandoned stool, sets it back into place, and then slides it a little closer to you before he sits on it, twisting his body so that his armored knees are brushing against yours. “He didn’t hurt you?”

You rest your chin on the palm of your hand, your smile growing, “If he did, will you go defend my honor?”

“If you phrase it right,” Jaster replies with an answering grin, “I might do it even if he didn’t.” His thumb brushes against your knuckles, “Are you sure you’re uninjured?” He asks, his voice soft and for your ears alone.

“I am.”

“I’m glad.” He closes his hand over yours, and keeps his gaze locked with yours, “Montross thinks you’re going to pick him. He feels entitled to your affection.”

“How sad for him,” You reply, your voice just as soft, “I have my eyes on someone else.”

“Oh? Do I know him?” Jaster teases.

You flip your hand and thread your fingers with his, “You might.”

His gaze drops to your joined hands, and then snaps back to your face, “Do you want to go for a walk?” Jaster asks, his gaze serious.

“Nothing would make me happier.” 

He flashes a small smile and sets some credits on the counter to pay for your caf and cake, and then he gets to his feet and lightly tugs you to join him.

You, happily, press yourself against his side as you leave the restaurant together. Warmth runs down your spine as he lazily rubs circles on your hand with his thumb.

Whenever you’re with Jaster, you feel safe and warm. As though nothing in the galaxy can touch you so long as you’re with him.

It’s one of the many reasons that you love him.

And you do love him. 

And, you’re pretty sure, he feels the same way.

Jaster leads you through the busy streets, only stopping when you reach a quiet area on the edge of the town. It’s just the two of you, surrounded by trees and flowers, and you can’t help but think that he could have brought you to an old warehouse, filled with broken droids, and it would still have been the most romantic thing ever.

He smiles at you and releases your hand, only so he’s able to lightly cup your face with his hands. Jaster tilts your head so you’re looking right at him, and his smile widens. “You know,” He murmurs, “In those old holofilms, where the male protagonist claims that his love interest is his whole world, they always sounded dramatic to me.”

You press your hands over his, “They’re supposed to be, I think.” You reply with a fond smile.

“Maybe so,” He slowly leans in and presses his forehead against yours, “But I really am holding my whole world in the palms of my hands.” Jaster sounds awed, as though he can’t believe what he’s feeling.

Your face burns with slightly flustered embarrassment and your heart swoops with excited joy, “Jaster—”

“I love you,” He whispers, and then a broad grin crosses his face, “I love you.”

You can’t help the delighted laugh that falls from your lips as you release his hands and fling your arms around his neck, pulling him down into a, slightly awkward, kiss.

Though it’s only awkward because he wasn’t expecting it.

Jaster’s arms wrap around you, holding you securely as he hovers his lips just over yours, “Does that mean you—?”

“I love you.” You breathe against his lips, “I love you, I love you, I love—” You’re not able to finish the phrase, as his lips seal over yours stealing your words and your breath.

You don’t mind. Both belong to him anyway.

Your parents aren’t going to be thrilled. Your stepmother had plans to marry you off to the son of an Alderaanian aristocrat. Your father would prefer that you pick a member from a larger clan than Clan Mereel.

But you’ve made your choice…and they’re just going to have to live with it.

[loving-the-cambridges]

The Winter Rose Blooms

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

For all its splendor, Alderia felt quieter these days.  

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

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

**Jango.**  

His son. His only child.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

“Your Majesty?”  

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

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

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

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

And so, he had called for the matchmaker.  

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

She stepped through the door.

***

Warmth greeted her first.

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

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

Then she saw him.

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She nodded.

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

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

“Thank you,” she whispered.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

***

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

A soft knock. The doors creaked open.

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The king,” (Y/n) said softly.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

“Admiring the handsome ones, are we?”

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“With what?”

“Your brother.”  

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t say that.”  

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

***

### **The Ballroom of Invitations**

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sure your tutors loved that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My *what?*”

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

(Y/n) blinked. “The what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Enemy territory?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The what—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rex chuckled softly. “They never are.”

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

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

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

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

****

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

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

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

***

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

“Focused, aren’t we?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Y/n) gave him a look. “No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then—she laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ready for another run?” he asked.

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rex, I have work—”

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unexpected love.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

***

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

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

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

It wasn’t much, but it was something.

***

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

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

Even Cody, while still stiff, looked far less burdened with Rex standing beside him—no doubt helping to steer the conversation with easy charm.

(Y/n) was just beginning to relax when she noticed Fives and Echo, far too still and far too quiet, near one of the grand hall’s archways. It sent a warning tingle up her spine.

“What are they…” she murmured under her breath, narrowing her eyes as she tried to make sense of their suspiciously innocent expressions.

Fives’ shoulder twitched slightly, as though suppressing a laugh. Echo’s gaze flicked toward the ceiling for a fraction of a second before returning to the small group of women they were entertaining.

The ceiling.

(Y/n) froze, her gaze snapping upward.

She saw it just in time. A large net, strung with bundles of artificial snow—feathers and fine powder—dangled from the chandelier above the center of the room.

“No,” she whispered, her heart sinking.

It was too late. Fives grinned suddenly—bright and unrepentant—as he yanked something from his pocket. Echo turned just in time to give (Y/n) an apologetic shrug.

The net released.

Snow—soft, powdery, and absurdly voluminous—exploded from the ceiling, cascading down like a sudden blizzard. Gasps and shrieks of laughter erupted across the hall as women and royals alike were buried under the unexpected deluge.

(Y/n)’s jaw dropped as Rex burst into a peal of laughter, nearly doubling over as he watched the chaos unfold. Wolffe let out a low, irritated groan as snow settled in his dark hair and dusted the shoulders of his coat.

“Fives!” (Y/n) shouted, her voice rising above the noise as she marched toward the twins, who were already trying to escape toward the hallway. “Echo! What did I say about behaving?”

“Technically,” Fives called back as he darted past Rex, who was still laughing, “we’re enhancing the atmosphere!”

“Yeah!” Echo chimed in, grabbing a handful of snow and tossing it at Waxer, who had joined in the chaos. “It’s festive!”

Rex, tears of laughter in his eyes, straightened enough to throw a look at (Y/n), who now stood with her hands on her hips, her cheeks flushed. “I told you—friendly mischief.”

“You’re all impossible!” (Y/n) snapped, though she couldn’t stop the reluctant smile tugging at her lips.

****

From where he stood near the edge of the hall, Cody brushed snow off his coat, his expression unreadable. A faint dusting of powder clung to his hair, but he didn’t seem to notice it.

Instead, his gaze drifted toward (Y/n), who stood in the center of the chaos. Her hands were still on her hips, her expression half-scolding, half-amused as she watched Rex and the twins with exasperated affection.

Cody’s lips twitched—the barest flicker of a smile. It was brief and small, but it softened the lines of his face, made his shoulders relax.

For all the weight on her shoulders, for all her determination to keep everything perfect, (Y/n) made the palace feel alive again.

Perhaps, he thought as he turned quietly toward the hall’s exit, that wasn’t such a bad thing.

****

In the corner of the hall, Rex caught (Y/n)’s eye, a mischievous grin still lingering as he dusted snow off his sleeves. “You’ve got to admit,” he called over the noise, “it is festive.”

(Y/n) groaned, but even as she shook her head, she couldn’t stop the laughter that escaped her lips.

***

The day broke gently over Alderia, sunlight glinting off the frost-touched landscape like a painter’s brush had scattered silver across the world. The palace, still waking in quiet elegance, seemed to stretch its limbs as a fresh wave of crisp air flowed in from the mountains.

(Y/n) had taken her breakfast in the dining room again, seated at the far end of the enormous table. A modest spread had been laid before her, and though the tea was fragrant and the pastries warm, she found herself picking at the edges of her meal, her mind lingering stubbornly on the day’s agenda.

The introductions from the previous day replayed themselves in an endless loop—Cody’s polite stiffness, the carefully orchestrated smiles of the suitors, the pauses that stretched too long, heavy with unsaid words. You planned for everything, (Y/n) thought bitterly. And yet here we are.

She was about to lift her cup for a sip when a chair scraped loudly against the floor. (Y/n) flinched, startled, and looked up to see Rex sliding into the seat across from her with the kind of careless ease that only he could pull off. He looked far too energetic for someone who had no reason to be awake so early.

“Good morning,” he said, with a grin that was altogether too bright for the hour.

(Y/n) sighed, placing her cup back down. “Rex. Do you ever not appear out of nowhere?”

“I like to think of it as being punctual,” Rex replied, reaching for a fresh roll from the basket at the center of the table. He tore it in half with practiced ease, popping a piece into his mouth before glancing at her pointedly. “Though you look like you’ve been sitting here arguing with your thoughts for the better part of an hour.”

“I’m not arguing,” (Y/n) replied, though the tightness in her tone betrayed her frustration.

“Oh?” Rex tilted his head, chewing thoughtfully. “Planning, then. You do a lot of that.”

“It’s my job.” She picked at the edges of her napkin, willing herself to focus on anything other than his direct gaze. “Some of us don’t have the luxury of—”

“Of what?” he interrupted gently, though there was no teasing in his voice this time. “Forgetting that life isn’t made of plans?”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to argue but found no words. The observation hit too close to home, as Rex’s usually did. He watched her for a moment longer before leaning back in his chair, draping an arm casually across the backrest.

“All right, enough of this,” he said decisively. “You’re coming with me.”

(Y/n) frowned, blinking. “What?”

“Out. A ride.”

She stared at him as though he’d grown a second head. “A ride? On horses?”

Rex grinned, already victorious. “What else? Fresh air, open land, the whole countryside to ourselves.”

“Rex, I don’t have time for—”

He raised a hand, cutting her off, though his tone remained maddeningly calm. “(Y/n), if I let you sit here another hour, you’re going to wear a hole in that table with how hard you’re frowning. Trust me—there’s more to this planet than ballroom introductions and checklists. Let me show you.”

There it was again—that impossible pull he always managed to have on her. She stared at him for a long moment, debating, trying to hold on to her resolve. But something in the way he looked at her—earnest and insistent but never forceful—made the words fall flat on her tongue.

With a heavy sigh, she relented. “Fine. One hour.”

“One hour,” he agreed, though the grin he gave her said he already considered it a full victory. “Stables in twenty minutes. Don’t keep me waiting.”

***

The air outside was crisp, the kind of winter morning where every breath felt clean and sharp against the lungs. Snow still dusted the palace grounds, glistening under the rising sun, though it had begun to melt in places where the trees offered a break from the frost.

(Y/n) stood by the royal stables, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as she watched the horses being saddled. She hadn’t ridden in years—not since she was a child on Coruscant, where the rare few riding paths were carefully controlled and more for show than anything else.

Rex, on the other hand, looked completely at ease. He stood beside a tall, dapple-gray stallion, stroking its neck with practiced hands. His sleeves were pushed up again, the cold seemingly not bothering him in the slightest, and a faint smile played on his lips as he whispered to the horse in low, soothing tones.

“You look far too comfortable,” (Y/n) said, her voice cutting through the quiet.

Rex looked up, flashing her an easy smile. “This is my element.”

“And here I thought mischief was your element.”

“Ah, that’s just a hobby.” Rex winked before turning to gesture toward the horse being brought to her—a sleek chestnut mare with a kind, intelligent face. “This is Aurora. She’s gentle but spirited. You’ll get along just fine.”

(Y/n) eyed the horse warily. “I’m not so sure.”

Rex stepped closer, his tone softening. “She won’t let you fall. And neither will I.”

There was something in the way he said it—earnest, quiet—that made (Y/n)’s throat tighten slightly. She allowed herself a breath before nodding and letting one of the stable hands help her into the saddle.

***

The wind whistled softly as (Y/n) pulled her borrowed cloak closer, the thick fabric shielding her from the lingering winter chill. The horses moved in steady rhythm beneath them, their hooves crunching softly through the light blanket of snow that covered the rolling meadows beyond the palace. Rex rode just a pace ahead of her, completely at ease, his posture loose and natural as though he belonged to this land.

(Y/n), though less confident, managed to keep Aurora, the gentle chestnut mare, moving smoothly alongside him. She focused on the sound of the horses, on the wide openness of the space stretching out before her—fields and valleys edged with frost, dotted by the dark outlines of evergreens.

It had been years since she’d felt anything like this—open air, the rush of motion, the world wide enough that it felt like it could swallow every weight she carried.

“I told you this would be better than staring at your tea,” Rex called over his shoulder, the wind carrying his voice to her like a song on the breeze.

(Y/n) smiled faintly, though she couldn’t bring herself to admit he was right—yet. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m still deciding.”

Rex laughed softly, the sound warm in the cold air. “You’ll come around.” He slowed his horse slightly so that they rode side by side. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the world quiet except for the rhythm of hooves and the faint creak of leather saddles.

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, her breath visible in the cold air. “You seem… happy out here,” she observed quietly.

Rex looked ahead, his smile softening. “I am.”

“Why?”

He didn’t answer immediately, his gaze drifting toward the snow-dusted hills in the distance. “Because out here, I don’t have to be anything but myself,” he said finally. “There’s no one expecting me to play a role or fill a gap. I’m just… Rex.”

(Y/n) watched him, her fingers curling tighter around the reins. “And in the palace?”

“In the palace,” he said with a faint sigh, “I’m the spare. The second. The one who fills the space around the crown.” He turned to her then, his storm-colored eyes holding hers. “I don’t mind it, not really. Cody was born for it. But sometimes… it feels like there’s nothing else for me to be.”

The quiet that followed felt heavier, as though the world itself had stopped to listen. (Y/n) hesitated before speaking, her voice soft.

“I understand that,” she murmured.

Rex raised a brow. “You do?”

(Y/n) looked forward, letting her gaze drift to the open expanse of white and gold. “I’ve spent so much time helping others find love—building connections, crafting perfect matches—that I stopped looking for myself. It’s as though I’m… watching from the outside. Always watching.”

There was no pity in Rex’s gaze, only understanding. “And have you ever… wanted it?”

(Y/n) let out a faint, self-deprecating laugh, though it caught in her throat. “I wouldn’t know what to want. Love, as I’ve seen it, always seems so… chaotic. And yet, it’s the one thing everyone wants. It’s the thing they can’t live without.”

“And you?” Rex asked quietly.

(Y/n) turned to him, her expression soft but guarded. “I guess I’ve never felt I deserved it.”

Rex blinked, as though the confession had knocked something loose inside him. “That’s not true.”

“How would you know?” (Y/n) countered, her voice trembling slightly despite herself.

“Because I’ve seen you,” Rex said, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re always the one holding everything together—steady and sure, even when it’s not your burden to carry. You deserve more than just watching.”

The words hung between them, raw and unguarded, until Rex gave her a crooked, disarming smile. “Besides,” he added, lightening his tone, “chaos isn’t always bad. Sometimes it’s exactly what you need.”

(Y/n) stared at him for a moment, her heart thudding quietly in her chest. She didn’t know what to say, so instead, she looked back out at the open meadow.

And for the first time in a long time, she felt the faintest spark of hope—quiet and fragile but impossible to ignore.

As they rode on, Rex glanced at her again, the edges of his smile softer now, less teasing. He didn’t say anything more, but something unspoken passed between them—an understanding, a connection.

Neither of them knew where it would lead.

But for now, it was enough.

***

(Y/n) paced the length of the ballroom with her clipboard in hand, her heels clicking softly against the polished marble floor. The room, dressed in restrained elegance, was set for the next phase of introductions—an opportunity for each of the noblewomen and princesses to spend an uninterrupted hour with Cody. It was (Y/n)’s hope that the structured intimacy would allow for a deeper connection, perhaps even help Cody find some common ground with at least one of them.

The tables had been arranged with meticulous care, adorned with soft floral arrangements and tea sets laid out on embroidered linens. A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth diffusing the chill in the room. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, bathing the grand space in gold, as if the day itself wanted to encourage success.

(Y/n)’s preparations were flawless—as always.

And yet, deep in her chest, a nagging sense of unease lingered.

The suitors, elegantly dressed and seated in the antechamber, were perfect on paper. Beautiful, poised, intelligent, and well-spoken. But perfection, (Y/n) knew all too well, could often feel hollow. And she was beginning to fear that hollow was exactly what Cody would find in each of them.

“Everything looks… unnecessarily perfect,” Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts, lighthearted and teasing as ever.

(Y/n) startled slightly, turning to find him lounging against one of the window frames, arms crossed and the familiar crooked smile tugging at his lips. He looked too at ease for someone standing amidst her painstakingly crafted setting—like he belonged in chaos more than polished order.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him in mock reproach.

“Why not? I’m helping.” He pushed off the frame, strolling toward her with the easy gait that she had come to know far too well.

“Helping?” (Y/n) scoffed, though her tone held no real irritation. “You’ve spent the last week interrupting my work.”

“Interrupting,” Rex corrected, as though it were a badge of honor, “is a form of assistance. It keeps you from overthinking everything.”

“I don’t overthink,” (Y/n) shot back defensively, clutching her clipboard just a little tighter.

Rex grinned, clearly delighted to see her bristling. “You’re overthinking right now.”

(Y/n) sighed, biting back a reluctant smile. “If you’re here to derail my plans, you’re too late. Everything is set. Each of the women will have an hour alone with Cody today. That’s their time to make an impression.”

Rex gave an exaggerated wince as he surveyed the ballroom. “Alone with Cody? You’re asking for trouble.”

(Y/n) frowned, brow furrowing as she glanced at him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve seen him,” Rex replied casually, leaning against the back of one of the chairs and watching her with an amused expression. “The man treats these introductions like he’s attending a military tribunal. Straight back, stiff smile, saying as little as humanly possible.”

(Y/n) sighed, pressing her fingers against her temple. “I know. But this is important, Rex. He needs to—”

“Relax?” Rex interrupted, his grin widening when she shot him a glare. “(Y/n), you’ve set up the perfect stage, but you can’t force chemistry. That’s the problem. You’re trying to plan love.”

“That’s my job!” she snapped, though her voice cracked slightly at the end, as if she were exasperated with herself more than him. “And it’s not as simple as you make it sound.”

Rex straightened slightly, his gaze softening. “It’s never simple. But you can’t make someone feel something they don’t.”

The truth of his words settled in (Y/n)’s chest like a heavy stone, and she looked away, unable to hold his gaze. She knew he was right. As much as she hoped to create the perfect conditions, connection wasn’t something that could be controlled. It either happened or it didn’t.

***

From her vantage point in the shadows of the ballroom, Lady Mara watched with the stillness of a predator. Her keen gaze never wavered as it settled on (Y/n) and Rex, the young woman’s flustered reaction to Rex’s teasing and the unmistakable warmth in his gaze as he lingered near her.

It was subtle, but Mara saw it—she always saw it. The way Rex leaned just slightly too close, the softness of his smile when (Y/n) wasn’t looking, the flicker of hesitation in (Y/n)’s eyes, as though she wasn’t entirely sure what was happening between them.

But Mara knew.

Her fingers curled slowly around the edge of her shawl, the fabric brushing softly against her gloves as her lips pressed into a thin line. She had spent too many years waiting—watching—as Jaster’s grandsons grew into men, as they carried the titles and power that should have been hers.

She had been patient—oh, so patient—ever since the day Jango, her brother’s favored son, had taken everything from her. The throne, the future she had so carefully planned, had all been ripped away like a cruel twist of fate. When Jango died, she had thought it her time at last—her chance to step into the light and claim what was rightfully hers. But Jaster had refused to bend. He had raised Jango’s sons like the kings they were never meant to be, tightening his grip on the crown, solidifying his dynasty.

Now here she stood, in a palace that should have been hers, watching Jaster’s precious grandsons ruin everything. Rex, of all people—reckless, charming, unpredictable Rex—had begun to slip through her carefully laid cracks.

Her dark eyes swept back to (Y/n), the matchmaker. She was supposed to be here to solve the problem of Cody’s disinterest, yet somehow, she had become the problem herself. Mara saw the quiet connection between her and Rex beginning to form—fragile, unspoken, but growing like ivy on an ancient wall. It wasn’t merely an inconvenience; it was dangerous.

Mara’s nails dug into the soft fabric of her glove as she turned away from the ballroom. She moved silently, her skirts whispering along the floor as she stepped out into the quieter hallway beyond.

*** 

Mara strode purposefully down the shadowed corridor, her mind whirling with thoughts. The palace was alive with movement—the footsteps of servants, the murmur of distant voices—but Mara walked through it all like a ghost, unseen and unnoticed.

She couldn’t allow this. Not again.

Jaster’s sons had already stolen too much from her. She wouldn’t stand idle while they found love and strength to secure their power. A royal marriage, the forging of alliances—that would cement their place for generations to come, locking her and her line into the cold shadows of obscurity.

No.

Her gaze hardened as she turned a corner, entering a smaller study tucked away from the bustle of the main palace. She paused near the window, staring out at the snow-draped gardens below, where faint lantern light still flickered from the winter rose beds.

Rex, she thought bitterly, his name curling on her tongue like ash. He was too much like his father—too carefree, too charming. But unlike Jango, he was reckless. Mara could use that. His unpredictability could be turned against him, twisted to tarnish the reputation he carried.

And (Y/n)…

Mara’s lips curled faintly. The matchmaker was earnest and focused, but it made her predictable. A woman so busy trying to fit the world into neat little boxes couldn’t see a storm forming until it was too late.

***

A knock at the door broke through her thoughts.

“Enter,” she said smoothly, turning just as the heavy door creaked open and one of her most trusted attendants, a man named Luthar, slipped inside. He was a wiry man, his presence shadowed and unassuming, but his loyalty to Lady Mara was unquestionable.

“You summoned me, my lady?” Luthar’s voice was low and deferential.

“Yes,” Mara replied, her tone calm, measured. She gestured for him to step closer, her dark eyes gleaming in the firelight. “I need you to watch someone for me.”

Luthar inclined his head. “Who?”

“The matchmaker,” Mara said smoothly, folding her hands in front of her. “(Y/n) (Y/L/N). I want to know her movements. Who she speaks with. Who she trusts.”

Luthar gave a slight bow. “And the prince?”

“Rex,” Mara said softly, almost to herself, as though tasting the name on her tongue. “Keep an eye on him as well. He’s grown… distracted. That distraction could prove useful.”

Luthar hesitated, his gaze flickering with unspoken curiosity. “And if something should arise?”

Mara’s expression hardened, the faintest hint of a smile curling at the edges of her mouth. “Then you’ll inform me immediately. I’ll handle it.”

Luthar bowed again before slipping from the room as silently as he had entered.

****

Once she was alone again, Mara turned back to the window, her gaze sweeping the snow-covered grounds below. The garden was quiet now, but she could still see it in her mind: (Y/n) and Rex, walking beneath the lanterns, their laughter drifting up through the cold night air.

It was fragile.

Too fragile to last, she thought. And she would ensure it didn’t.

Jaster had stolen her crown. His grandsons had stolen her legacy.

But love?

Love was a fire she could extinguish before it ever had the chance to burn.

With that thought, she turned sharply, the rustle of her skirts echoing through the empty room. Lady Mara, patient and cunning, would not be ignored any longer.

***

As the morning passed, oblivious to the dark intentions brewing in the shadows, Rex found (Y/n) once again—this time in the library, surrounded by books and notes.

“Still working?” he teased, leaning against a nearby bookshelf with a grin that was far too casual.

(Y/n) looked up, startled, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. “I’m always working. It’s what you hired me for, remember?”

Rex grinned, pushing off the bookshelf to sit on the edge of the table, far too close for propriety’s comfort. “You should take a break. I hear there’s a lovely view from the gardens around this time.”

(Y/n) glanced at him, her cheeks warming faintly, though she tried to ignore the way her pulse jumped at his nearness. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet you keep me around,” Rex replied, his voice softening as his teasing smile melted into something quieter.

She opened her mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come.

In that moment, as their eyes met and lingered, she felt it—the shift. The fragile thread of something unspoken, growing stronger with every breath they shared.

And just beyond the warmth of the library walls, Lady Mara watched, unseen and waiting, the storm she intended to unleash already beginning to gather.

****

### **The Dance Lessons**  

The ballroom gleamed in soft afternoon light, its wide marble floor polished to a mirror-like sheen. The vast space echoed with anticipation—servants hurrying to finish preparations, chairs tucked neatly against the far wall, fresh garlands of winter roses hanging from the tall archways. 

(Y/n) stood at the center of it all, a clipboard in her hand and tension in her shoulders as she surveyed the day’s task. *Dance lessons.* It was the logical next step—graceful movement, light conversation, an easy way to break the icy formality between Cody and the suitors. She had coordinated every detail: music selections, the layout, the schedule, and, of course, the “volunteers” she had roped in to serve as dance partners.  

**Cody, Rex, Wolffe, Hunter, Kix, Waxer, Boil, Fives, and Echo** stood at varying levels of discomfort near the edge of the ballroom, all dressed in their finest tunics—boots polished, collars starched—and wearing expressions that ranged from resigned to outright rebellious.  

“This is ridiculous,” Wolffe muttered, crossing his arms as his sharp gaze swept the room. “I’m not a dance instructor.”  

“You’re *helping,*” (Y/n) replied crisply, flipping through her notes to keep herself from snapping back. “You’ll all partner with the ladies who haven’t yet had a chance to properly engage with Prince Cody. Think of it as your civic duty.”

“Civic duty?” Hunter murmured, arching a brow at her. “I didn’t realize dancing had become a matter of state.”

“It has now,” (Y/n) shot back, leveling a look at him before continuing. “The goal is for the women to feel at ease. Relaxed. Do you think they’ll be comfortable dancing with a prince who refuses to smile?” 

From his place against the far wall, **Cody** lifted his gaze from where he’d been inspecting the floor. “I can hear you.”

“You were supposed to,” (Y/n) replied sweetly, though her gaze lingered on him just long enough to soften the sting.  

The twins, predictably, were already at it—Fives elbowed Echo, a mischievous grin lighting up his face. “I’m going to win the crowd over,” Fives announced grandly, smoothing the front of his coat with mock seriousness. “They’ll forget Cody’s even here.”

“Try not to trip,” Echo replied dryly, though his smirk betrayed him.  

(Y/n) pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling slowly before scanning the room for the one man she hadn’t yet heard complain. Rex. 

---

**Rex stood near the grand piano**, watching (Y/n) with an unreadable expression as she corralled the cousins and brothers like a commander on a battlefield. He’d grown used to seeing her like this—sharp, focused, and entirely in control—but something about today felt different. Her movements were more rushed, her tone a little too clipped, as if she were holding something back.  

Rex watched her for another beat before stepping forward, his boots tapping softly against the marble. “You’re going to wear a hole in that clipboard,” he said, his voice low and teasing as he stopped beside her.

(Y/n) glanced up sharply, startled. “I’m fine.”

“You always say that,” Rex replied, tilting his head as he studied her, “and yet you look like you’re ready to strangle someone with your notes.”  

(Y/n) bit back a retort, her pulse quickening slightly under the weight of his gaze. “They’re impossible to manage,” she muttered instead, gesturing toward the assembled group. “None of them take this seriously.”

“They’re taking it as seriously as you let them,” Rex said softly, his eyes narrowing just slightly. “You could use a break, you know. You’ve been on edge since—well, *since always*.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to protest but stopped herself. There was no point arguing with Rex when he saw straight through her defenses. She let out a soft breath instead, forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. “Are you here to help or just to distract me?”

Rex’s lips curled into that familiar lopsided grin that made (Y/n)’s stomach flip in ways she wasn’t prepared to admit. “Both.”

***

The music began—a soft, lilting waltz played on the grand piano by a palace musician—and the suitors moved hesitantly into the ballroom. (Y/n)’s voice cut through the murmurs like a whip of calm authority.  

“All right, ladies, gentlemen—pair up, please,” she called, her voice carrying easily over the music. “One lady to each of you. Prince Cody will begin at the center, and the rest of you will rotate every ten minutes. This is about comfort and conversation. Please, try to enjoy yourselves.”

*Enjoy themselves.* (Y/n) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen a more reluctant group of dancers.

The ballroom was a wash of gold and white, sunlight filtering through tall stained-glass windows, dappling the polished marble floor with warmth. The soft strains of a waltz echoed through the vast space, mingling with the laughter and polite murmurs of conversation as the dance lessons finally began. It was as (Y/n) had planned—graceful, orderly, structured.

Yet despite the perfect setting, the atmosphere still felt off.

Cody, positioned at the center with yet another partner, moved stiffly, his every step mechanical, as though he were a clockwork figure. (Y/n) watched him carefully from her spot near the edge of the room, her brow furrowed as she made notes on her clipboard. Every step, every rotation, felt like another missed opportunity. Cody’s partner smiled, but (Y/n) could see through it—polite, practiced, but hollow.

The ballroom was filling with cracks, tiny fissures in the façade she’d worked so hard to create.

***

Across the floor, Rex moved among the dancers with a kind of natural ease that both frustrated and fascinated her. He laughed easily, spinning one of the young princesses with a flair that earned him a round of applause from the other ladies. The charm came effortlessly to him, a boyish mischief lighting up his face that made him impossible to ignore.

But (Y/n) had learned something about Rex these last few weeks. That carefree exterior of his? It was a mask—clever, disarming, but not quite real. And when he let it slip, even just a little, (Y/n) felt as though she’d glimpsed something precious and fragile.

Something she wasn’t sure she was ready to see.

“Careful, Matchmaker.”

Rex’s voice broke through her thoughts like a ripple across still water. (Y/n) blinked, startled, to find him suddenly at her side, hands tucked casually into his pockets, his blue-gray eyes fixed on her with a look that sent her pulse fluttering.

“You’re brooding again,” Rex said, a teasing smile curving his lips. “You’re supposed to be watching the dancing, not staring holes into the floor.”

“I’m working,” (Y/n) replied stiffly, though her voice faltered slightly under the weight of his gaze.

“Are you?” Rex asked, tilting his head. “Because from here, it looks like you’re worrying yourself into an early grave.”

(Y/n) frowned, unwilling to meet his eyes. “Cody isn’t connecting with anyone. This is supposed to help, but it’s… falling apart.”

“Falling apart?” Rex murmured, his tone softer now. “Not everything needs to be perfect, (Y/n).”

“It’s my job to make it perfect,” she said quietly, her fingers tightening around the clipboard. “If I don’t, who will?”

There was a pause, and when she finally looked up, Rex was watching her—not with teasing amusement this time, but with something softer, something deeper.

“I think you’re too hard on yourself,” he said, his voice low, as though the words weren’t meant for anyone but her. “You try to hold the world together on your own, and it’s going to crush you if you’re not careful.”

(Y/n) opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came. He always did this—saw through the carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself and reached straight into the fragile heart of it.

“Come on,” Rex said suddenly, breaking the moment before it could deepen further. He extended a hand to her, his grin returning, though the softness in his eyes remained. “Dance with me.”

(Y/n) blinked. “What?”

“Dance with me,” he repeated, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “You can’t teach everyone else if you’re not willing to join in yourself.”

“I’m not here to dance,” (Y/n) stammered, flustered, her cheeks warming. “I’m overseeing—”

“You’re overthinking,” Rex said, smirking faintly. “One dance, (Y/n). You can go back to your clipboard after.”

***

Her hesitation broke when she felt the brothers and cousins watching—Wolffe’s sharp gaze, Kix’s faint smirk, and the twins’ not-so-subtle nudges. From across the room, Fives grinned like a child with a secret, whispering something to Echo that made them both chuckle under their breath.

Even Cody had noticed, pausing just slightly mid-step with his partner to glance over, his brow lifting in quiet curiosity.

(Y/n)’s breath caught as the room seemed to shift its focus. It was subtle, but she felt it—their eyes on her, on Rex, and on whatever it was that lingered between them like a spark waiting to catch fire.

She looked up at Rex, whose hand was still extended toward her, patient but insistent. There was no teasing in his face anymore, only quiet encouragement.

Just one dance, she told herself, though her heart hammered wildly in her chest. Slowly, she slipped her hand into his.

Rex’s smile softened, as though her acceptance meant far more to him than he would ever admit. “Trust me,” he murmured.

***

They moved onto the floor, and for the first time that day, the music seemed to come alive. The melody swelled gently, wrapping around them as Rex placed his hand lightly against (Y/n)’s waist and guided her into the steps of the waltz.

At first, (Y/n)’s movements were stiff, self-conscious. She could feel the others watching—Cody, Wolffe, the cousins—but she forced herself to focus on Rex.

“Relax,” Rex murmured, his voice just above a whisper, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the moment. “It’s just us.”

(Y/n) looked up into his face, startled by the sincerity in his words. “It’s not just us. They’re all staring.”

“Let them stare,” Rex replied softly, his thumb brushing lightly against her hand. “I’m only looking at you.”

Her heart skipped a beat, her breath catching as his words settled over her like a warmth she hadn’t expected. She looked up at him, truly looked, and saw something in his eyes that she hadn’t allowed herself to see before. The teasing grin was gone, replaced by something raw and unguarded.

Rex was… different. He wasn’t the carefree prince who pulled her into snowball fights or dragged her away from her work. He was this—steady, grounded, and impossibly real.

And it terrified her.

***

From across the room, the brothers and cousins noticed the shift.

“Finally,” Fives muttered to Echo, elbowing him in the ribs. “I thought I’d have to push him into her.”

Echo smirked, though his gaze lingered on Rex and (Y/n) with quiet understanding. “Don’t jinx it.”

Hunter’s sharp eyes narrowed slightly, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “About time he noticed.”

Even Wolffe, usually the most reserved of them all, let out a faint, resigned sigh. “He’s in trouble.”

***

(Y/n) felt it, too.

As they moved in perfect rhythm, her body following the subtle press of Rex’s hand at her waist, (Y/n) realized how easily he grounded her. How he made everything—the chaos, the expectations, the weight—feel just a little lighter.

She glanced up at him, searching his face. What is happening to me?

Rex looked down at her as though he could hear her unspoken question. His gaze held hers, steady and sure, his expression open in a way that made her chest tighten.

And for the first time, (Y/n) let herself feel it—the spark, the pull that she could no longer deny.

As the music slowed and the last note faded into the air, Rex didn’t let go of her hand right away. His fingers lingered against hers, his voice low and rough when he finally spoke.

“See?” he murmured. “One dance didn’t kill you.”

(Y/n) stared up at him, her heart thudding wildly. “No,” she whispered. “It didn’t.”

But it might have undone her entirely.

***

Lady Mara, hidden once again near the ballroom’s entrance, watched with narrowed eyes. Her sharp gaze swept over Rex and (Y/n) as they lingered just a second too long in the center of the room.

This cannot be allowed.

A plan was already forming in her mind. If love were to take root here, she would see it wither before it ever had the chance to bloom.

As the dance ended, and the room returned to its usual hum of conversation, Lady Mara turned sharply on her heel, slipping away into the shadows with purpose.

Let them play their games for now, she thought. It won’t last.

***

Thank you so much for reading the first part! 🌟 I had an absolute blast writing this story—it was such a joy to weave together the magic of the holidays

I’d love to hear your thoughts! Whether it’s your favorite moment, the scenes that made you smile, or even the twists that caught you by surprise—your reactions mean the world to me. 💕 Feel free to leave a comment, share your feelings, or even just drop by to say hi! And whether you'd be interested in a second part.

[spade-andthe-microwave]

Noticed a lack of x Reader for Jaster Mereel on A03, so here you go I guess. Sorry it's so short, but enjoy.

[iron-strangers]

tell us moooore about the mudhorn babies!!!

Yes! Yesyesyesyes, ask me more about the babies!💞

The babies are a part of my Dad!Mand'alor!Din x Jedi!Reader series called Expanding Clan Mudhorn

Grogu no longer hangs in Din's bag/carrier, he's now riding with Mirshka in her little backpack.

Grogu is now enrolled in a space kindergarten and the fridge is full of the drawings he brings home from school.

He's also been terrorizing the frog population in the pond behind their home.

Grogu's first word is buir and Din isn't shy to admit that he BAWLED.

The kids can see the old Mand’alor's force ghosts. Aranar is Jaster Mereel's favorite, Mirshka is Tarre Vizsla's.

Aranar once stole the darksaber and he messed up the ignition, cutting half of his hair. He wears helmets everywhere for two weeks.

Just like Din, Aranar is not painting his armor.

Mirshka wants a vod'ika for her life day present (Din is encouraging her).

She wants her vod'ika to be called tra'cyuur.

"No, Din, I don't care if she sulks, we're not naming our baby 'blaster'."

You and Din finally settled on Kote, and Kote is perfect. Kote is a sweet baby who can never do wrong.

Aranar is three years older than Mirshka. Mirshka is two years older than Kote.

The Djarin genes are way too strong and the babies looks exactly like their buir.

Aranar always wins the sword-fight sparring sessions.

Mirshka is very strong in the living force, she even befriended the Mythosaur under the Living Waters of Mandalore.

Kote is the best shooter out of the four kids. Aranar has known no peace since his brother started shooting nerf-gun around the house.

Boba teaches Aranar to swear. Aranar then teaches Mirshka. Rid'ika threatens everyone that she will go dark if Kote started to swear too.

Din is Mirshka's favorite person in the whole galaxy.

Rid'ika is Aranar's.

Kote and Grogu baby talks to each other. No one knows what they're talking about, yet the two babies are giggling like a couple of maniacs.

Fenn'buir would steal the kids away and return them all muddy and smelly, much to your chagrin. At least they always sleep soundly after roughhousing with their ba'buir (grandfather).

One time, Din finally said "fuck this" and gave the darksaber to an eight years old Aranar. The boy led the court for one day (with your guidance, of course) while Din played hooky and took the rest of the kids flying all over Mandalore.

Aranar gave the council a fourty five minutes nap break. With just one day of ruling, Aranar is now known as Mand’alor the Kriffing Best.

Din was then banished to the couch for two days.

Thank you for this anon, this is the most fun I've had since writing this series. I hope you love the kids! 💞

Questions and requests are always open!

[vintageflowerangel]

Hello! Sorry I couldn't find your rules so if this is against your rules please let me know!

Can I request Nikolai with a reader that is similar to him? She is also a type of Jaster (acts like one), but her views on freedom are slightly different than Nikolai's, but she still craves for Nikolai. One day they talk about it and the first time he sees her serious? Sorry if I explained this badly free to ignore!

Hello! Sorry, my rules were hidden. Here's my main navigation if you want to go find my rules. You didn't make any mistakes. I just wished that you could've been more specific, like if you wanted a headcanon or oneshot. Also, sorry if this is horrible.

𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬

PAIRING: NIKOLAI GOGOL x (AFAB) NEUTRAL GENDER! READER 

WORD COUNT: 657 words

Freedom...

That's all that you ever wished for. To have freedom away from the stress of those around you. It's tiring staying positive all the time. In fact, it can be really difficult at certain times. What's more challenging is keeping up the same facade day after day, grinning and smiling, and acting happy-go-lucky all the time.

It's tiring keeping up the same facade no matter how exhausting it can be. You still have to keep up with your facade no matter what, even if it's going to be a small break from smiling. You can't seem to stop smiling.

It hurts knowing that you can't seem to stop smiling even when you're angry at something or sad you can't seem to stop smiling. You're not allowed to show any emotions such as anger or sadness. Smiling is all that you know besides speaking in riddles and entertaining guests in the circus. How funny you don't have any freedom to express yourself.

As exhausting as it is, you just have to keep smiling and move on with your day.

Day after day, all you do is just smile and speak in riddles. How ridiculous is that? Being forced to smile all the time.

"[NAME]~!" Nikolai popped out of nowhere, most likely used his ability to teleport into your tent.

Glancing at the white-haired man through your mirror, you sent him a bright grin and greeted him. It was a normal occurrence for Nikolai to barge in without further notice, not that you minded. Of course, it was nice to have a fellow friend visit you.

"Ah, Nikolai, what can I do for you?" You politely asked, turning to face him.

Nikolai just grins and shrugged his shoulders, laying on your couch to crash. Chuckling at the scene in front of you, you got up from your seat and headed towards Nikolai to play with his long braid. The man hums and closes his eyes, letting you undo his braid so you can fully play with his hair. It feels amazing as you brush your fingers through his long hair, massaging his scalp. His hair is so soft... You wonder what kind of shampoo and conditioner he uses.

"Did you come here so I could play with your hair?" You asked once more, trying to get an answer out of the man.

"Of course I did! Your head scratches are amazing!" Nikolai, finally, answered your query exaggerating his words.

Amused by his words, you let out a small giggle and shook your head, happy to be praised by him. It felt nice being complimented by someone you cherished.

It was quiet not in an awkward quiet, but comfortable quiet if that made sense. The both of you were at peace enjoying the quietness until Nikolai let out a question of his own.

"Do you ever wished to be free?"

Blinking out of confusion, you slowly nodded your head and continued to play with his long hair braiding it. Of course, you wanted to be free. If you have a chance to be free, you could express yourself without being judged.

"To be free, you can make your own decisions." You murmured, still braiding his hair. Nikolai opened his eyes and looked up at you, silently agreeing with your words. "No one would be there to prevent you from doing whatever you want or judge you from expressing yourself."

"Is there a reason why you want to be free?" Nikolai ponders wondering what's your reason is to be free.

"I just want to express my emotions without being judged." You answered, finishing up his braid.

The man just stares at you, confused by your wish to be free. To express yourself without being judged? It wasn't what he was expecting, and to be frank, he was expecting something more drastic. Noticing how you are being serious, he didn't bother to question your response and stayed silent.

[queen--kenobi]

Control (2019)

Control by @annachibi (Jesse Faden/Emily Pope)

House of the Dragon

Sweet Mother by @lya-dustin (Rhaenyra/Alicent)

Upon His Brother's Table by @thought--bubble (Aemond x reader, dub-con)

Star Wars

Make Me, Master by @pickleprickle (sith!Obi-wan Kenobi x reader)

Star Wars: The Clone Wars

Table sex gate 2k24 art by @merlyn-bane (Captain Rex/Obi-wan Kenobi, Commander Cody/Obi-wan Kenobi, Captain Rex/Obi-wan Kenobi/Commander Cody)

Want to Use You (Want to Get Used by You) by @siderealdei (Jaster Mereel/Savage Oppress)

[fandom-friday]

Thank you so much to everyone that submitted recommendations this week! A comprehensive list of this week’s submissions can be found under the cut! Recommendations are organized by show/media, and any main pairings will be listed after the title.

🎆 = 18+ content ✨ = contains spoilers of a currently running show

Fics:

The Clone Wars: 🎆 A Girls Night Out (Jesse x OC Lina, Fives x OC Sue) by @marierg & @the-rain-on-kamino 🎆 Let's Call It Love (Barriss Offee x Ahsoka Tano) by @stellanslashgeode Fire in the Frying Pan by @barbaricyawn In Spite of Everything, We Thrive by @chaosgoblinhours The Tattooist by @whiskeygoldwings-blog

The Bad Batch: As Iron Sharpens Iron (Hunter x f!Reader) by @arctrooper69 ✨ (TBB S3) Revelation by RheaShay (AO3)

The Book of Boba Fett: Life Day (Boba Fett x OC Seba) by @kimiheartblade 🎆 Biscuits and Beskar (Boba Fett x OC Kaylee Manu) by @marierg

Batman: He's Ours Now by Lulu_Rythmea (AO3) Batman Beyond: Days of Future Past by @blightwritesfic Cards on the Table by @wesslan Family You Made (Go Back, Do it Again) by @jube514 Dragon-Tamer and the Wing of Night by @evergreena I Don't Belong Here (I Wish I Was Special) by @the-booty-crusader The Bat Trap by Threee (AO3)

Star Trek: We Have Engaged the Borg: The Oral History of the Battle of Wolf 359 by TranquilityPress (AO3)

Crossover AUs: Family Bonding and Other Perilous Pursuits (Batman X Danny Phantom Crossover) by Shynnohwen (AO3) La Petite Mort (Barbie X Dracula Crossover) (Barbie Roberts x Dracula) by @howlingmoonrise How is This My Life? (Pokemon X Dragon Age: Inquisition Crossover) by @thequietdreamerposts

Art:

The Clone Wars: Commander Cody Art by @cc3542taki Jedi Temple Guard OC Ren Art by @archfey-edda Thick Healthy Clones Art Series by @rexxdjarin Good Morning, Mesh'la by @the-rain-on-kamino Quinlan Vos Art by @purgetrooperfox

The Bad Batch: ✨ (TBB S3) Shadow of Tantiss Supremacy by @madsayo

The Book of Boba Fett: OC Kaylee Manu Art by @the-little-moment

Star Wars Legends: Jaster Mereel Art by @corrie-guard-things

[hetalianskywalker]

Day 30: The Wait

Pairing: Mer Fordo x Goddess Reader

Summary: Fordo gets sent to rescue what he believes is a myth.

Author’s Note: I might have gotten distracted reader fan fiction.

Warnings: Talking about feeling trapped. Some angst about depression and passively giving up. But not in detail.

Word Count: 1237

Prompt: The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. The goddess of sea foam lives there, sighing her days away, waiting for a champion.

Prompt 2947 by deepwaterwritingprompts

Jango thinks over his options for how to defend the Mandalore Sector when the Empire rallies its strength. Mer are coming in from everywhere along with an influx of his Mer clones. However, with the population cut by the recent civil war with Death Watch, it’s not going to be enough. He’s not going to get an entire army of Mer clones and they are aging too quickly. His riduur has full faith that Clan Shirata will have that solved eventually and to not under any circumstances bother them.

He is so deep in thought he doesn’t notice his hands have turned to claws, clicking against the arms of his throne. He still deeply dislikes the politics of being Sea Alor; he would much rather be doing the fighting instead of the ruling. And he will be doing that when the empire comes, but even Sea Alors have limits.

“You could always see if the sea dragons are real?” Boba offers sarcastically with a half smile. The fact his son was now a teenager is still a weird thought to wrap his mind around.

“They are real, but…” Jango thinks about it over a long moment. There is an ancient myth about one of the Sea Alors ordering the dragons to sleep. Jango had also believed the myths to be false until Jaster showed him the stone remnants of one at the bottom of an ocean trench. “There would only be a handful left if that. It’s something to consider though.”

“Dragons are real…” Boba stares at him in utter disbelief and Jango resists the very powerful urge to laugh. He can remember his own similar reaction.

“We might as well send a champion to free the goddess of sea foam then.” Boba chuckles, trying to regain his composure.

“That’s not a bad idea either.”

“What!?”

The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. The goddess of sea foam lives there, sighing her days away, waiting for a champion. It’s an ancient myth Fordo has heard many times.

There was once an age of gods born of magic itself. There were far too many deities to count, but the god of the sea created the Mer and established the island of Mandalore as the center of all sea magic. Eventually, the gods began to die off. The sea did not leave his children without protection and blessed the first Sea Alor with the last of his power. As he lay dying, he told the Sea Alor that there was one deity left: his youngest child. He had locked her away to protect her from what was happening to every other deity. And only a champion could release her.

Fordo had thought Jango had lost his mind when he gave him this mission and told him the long passed down location. Fordo was one of the first and only Alpha ARCs to come to Mandalore after the end of the war. If the myth was true, he understood why he was being sent; returning with a deity who is hidden behind a multitude of magic barriers, traps, and a sea serpent would require an Alpha ARC. Either way though, if the Sea Alor had lost his mind, at least he wasn’t stuck with Alpha-17’s mission.

Fordo had just arrived when the Ice Sea Dragon had landed with Commander Mayday. The legends of their strength were far more accurate than he wanted to admit. He did not envy the fact Alpha was given orders to bring back the Sea Dragon that was refusing the Sea Alor’s call. He was starting to think Alpha’s theory that Jango hated him had more truth than he originally thought.

The church is tiny, walls of salt crusted driftwood and windows of stained sea glass. You, the goddess of sea foam, live here, sighing your days away, waiting for a champion. Your life has been long slumbers and waiting for far too long. It’s becoming harder for you to remember what the other gods looked like or how the ocean feels on your skin.

Something interrupts your numb and unending routine. A Mer dressed in red and white armor opens the front doors; doors that never opened for you no matter how you kicked and screamed against them.

“Are you the goddess of sea foam?” He pants, trying to catch his breath. This is another hallucination; there is no one really there. You turn and look out the door. The ocean looks so real.

“Are you my champion?” You ask softly. You delicately walk up to him and reach out your hand. His gloved one meets yours; you both stare in complete and utter blissful shock when neither of you disappears.

You practically launch yourself into his arms. You cry out in relief at not being forgotten as you hold onto him for dear life. Deep down, you’re still afraid he will vanish and you shall continue on your father’s well meaning prison. You are finally leaving.

He introduces himself as Fordo as he maneuvers you to carry you bridal style; he had no doubt noticed the terrible state of your legs after not moving around your prison for the last who knows how long. You lost track of how long ago you gave up.

You give him your true name as you wrap your arms around his neck. He gently walks you out into the open air of your hidden island. You're crying when you see the world you had been locked away from; you had forgotten how bright and beautiful it is.

Fordo walks you down to the shore and you stare in awe at what was once your father’s domain. “Thank you.”

He gives you a gentle squeeze in reply before heading out into the water. Fordo shifts into his massive red and white tail. You laugh at the feeling of using your gills again, but don’t change in any other way.

He gives a small smile when you notice he’s watching you. You flush, looking anywhere else. “Don’t be embarrassed.” Fordo says understandingly. “I think we all had reactions like that when we realized that we could enjoy the rest of the world outside Kamino.”

“What do you mean?” It concerns you that he understood your feeling of being trapped and the joy of freedom afterward. The idea of someone keeping your rescuer locked away from the world bothers you greatly.

“It’s a long story.” He states looking at the waters ahead. You both have to get past all the old magic barriers to get to his ship.

“We have time.” You urge. While he avoids it at first, you wear him down over the long journey home.

You almost slap the Sea Alor when you make it to Mandalore. While Fordo finds it attractive, he’s not about to deal with the fallout and holds your hand so you can’t attempt it. With the empire coming, you all have other things to worry about.

While you aren't a powerful combative yourself, you can multiply the magic of the Mer around you. With such an important ability, Fordo gets assigned to guard you and you don’t let the opportunity go to waste to get to know your champion better.

Love comes much later, but it comes. After waiting so long for freedom, everything else seems like an inconsequential wait. Besides, Fordo is worth it.

[vodika-vibes]

Can you write a cute piece with Jaster where he comes back from a long mission and finds the reader and Jango asleep together in his bed waiting for him? Maybe turns a little smutty at the end?

The Mand'alor's Aliit

Summary: Jaster's been gone for weeks, and now that he's back, some hard truths have come to light.

Pairing: Jaster Mereel x F!Reader

Word Count: 1714

Warnings: Reader was physically assaulted, Jaster's temper

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I know you said you wanted a little smutty, and I'm sorry that this didn't turn out that way. I had a story that needed to be written, and smut just didn't make sense with what I had. Please feel free to send another request that I'll do better on next time.

When you agreed to go on a date with Jaster, it was well before he was elected Mand’alor. Sure, you’ve always known that your ambitious man wanted more for his people, but the title Mand’alor wasn’t something that he specifically vied for.

And then he was elected, and things became a lot more complicated.

The Mandalorians didn’t like you. They didn’t like you when you were just some upstart who managed to catch the attention of Jaster, and they definitely didn’t like that Jaster went to you for advice when he became Mand’alor.

However, no one pushed anything because you’re not Jaster’s Riduur. So far as they’re aware, the relationship is pretty shallow.

So when Jaster comes home with a recently orphaned 8 year old, announcing that he adopted young Jango, and then when you quietly adopted Jango as well, people suddenly started paying attention.

And that’s when the missions started. Long term missions, taking Jaster away from you, and Jango, for weeks at a time. Maybe they thought that sending him away would drive a wedge between the pair of you, but they couldn’t be more wrong if they tried.

“I miss buir,” Jango mumbles miserably as he buries himself against your side, “And I hate the other Mandalorians.” He adds, sounding even more miserable when he sees you wince in pain when you move to embrace him.

“I know you do, kiddo. I miss him too.” You smooth your hand through his curly hair. Today had been especially bad in terms of everything. Normally the people who stood opposed to you wouldn’t dare lay a hand on you.

But they had been drinking, and they forgot themselves, and yeah, you won that fight, even though it was four on one, but you still have a cracked rib and pretty severe bruising to show for it.

Worse than that is the fact that Jango witnessed the whole thing. Which means he’s about three times as clingy as he would normally be. And you tolerate it because he’s your kid and you love him. You love him enough to allow him to crawl into your bed, and cling to you while you soothe him to sleep.

You’re not really surprised when you drift off to sleep as well.

It’s several hours later when you stir awake at the sensation of Jango getting pulled away from you. And while normally your reaction would be to shoot first and ask questions never, a warm hand on your shoulder and Jaster’s voice in your ear, encouraged you to not shoot him. 

You watch, half asleep, as Jaster carries Jango out of the room. And then you sit up, and you carefully stretch. Sleeping the way you were did nothing to help the pain in your side…you should have known better.

The door slides open again, and Jaster steps into the room, “Cyare,” His voice is low, exhausted, but he sounds thrilled to see you, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

The lights are still off, but there’s enough light for you to watch him remove his armor. And you smile as you cross your legs, “Welcome back,” You say first, “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you when I felt you pulling Jango away.” You add easily.

His fingers pause on the seal of his thigh plates and he groans low in his throat, “That’s probably the hottest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

You laugh softly, “I think you’re overtired if you think my threatening to shoot you is hot.”

Jaster laughs, and resumes removing his armor. He sets the whole set to the side to be dealt with later, and then he peels his bodysuit off and tosses it into the laundry. And only then does he climb into bed.

He lays on his pillow for a moment, and you watch him relax into the soft mattress with a fond smile on your face. 

And then he rolls over and crashes his lips against yours. “Missed you,” He rumbles against your lips, “Hate those long missions.”

“Missed you more,” You reply as you kiss him quickly.

Jaster pins both of your wrists over your head with one hand, and he releases a quiet laugh, “I don’t think that’s possible, cyare.” He kisses you deeply, and then moves his lips to your neck, “Missed you like a missing limb.” He slides his hand under your sleep shirt, and drags his hand up your side.

His fingers trail over your ribs, and a sharp hiss escapes you without your permission.

And Jaster freezes. He carefully presses his hand over the painful spot on your side, and then he releases your wrists and reaches over to turn on the lamp.

You squint at the sudden light, and Jaster’s fingers are very gentle as he slides your shirt up and over your head. His gaze is sharp as he takes in the red bruises covering a large portion of your body. He brushes his fingers over the swollen and split knuckles on both of your hands. And then he presses his hand flat over your cracked rib.

“Is it broken?” His voice is very, very even. And you know that he’s furious.

“Cracked.” You reply as you settle back on your pillow.

“So yes.”

“We both know that a crack and a break are totally different.” You point out with a sigh, as you trail a single finger over his arm.

“What happened, cyare?” Jaster asks, his gaze falling to your forearms, “These look like self-defense bruises.”

You sigh, “You’re not wrong.”

His eyes go cold, “Someone attacked you.” It’s not a question.

“You know as well as I do that there are some factions within the Haat who don’t approve of me…or Jango.”

Somehow, his eyes go colder, “I didn’t see any marks on Jango.”

You scoff, “I know I can’t hold my own against you, Jas, but if they even considered touching Jango, we’d be having a very different conversation. Very likely from the safety of my ship, in orbit.”

It’s the truth. If you thought, for a moment, that Jango was in danger on Mandalore, you’d take him and leave. And you both know it.

“Who hurt you?”

“They’re in the hospital.” You reply.

“Cyare-”

“Jaster.” He stops and regards you thoughtfully, “They’re in the hospital. You can’t do anything about it now.”

He inhales deeply, “Has anyone done this before?”

“I can handle a few pointed barbs, Jaster.”

His jaw clenches, “Why do they hate you so much?” He hisses, fury writ in every line of his body.

“Because I’m an outsider, and was barely good enough when you were just a son of Clan Mereel.” You reach up and lightly caress his cheek, “They thought I was your whore, and then we adopted a child together, and proved that I’m more than that.”

“They call you that? To your face?”

“Not when you’re around.” You sigh and tug him down so you’re able to kiss him, “Breathe, love.”

“They hate you that much?” Jaster asks.

“‘Fraid so.” Your smile is wry, “They want you to marry some proper Mando, raise an army of little mando children, and I’m not an acceptable choice.”

“That’s…that’s the dumbest kriffing-” He takes a deep breath, and then he cups your face, “You’re my choice. Always have been, from the first time I saw you-”

“I threw a rock at you and called you dumb.”

“You did, and fell in love at that very moment.” Jaster replies with a fond smile, “You are mine,” He murmurs, “And I am yours.”

You smile up at him, “I’m not about to let some small minded people scare me away from you, love.”

“Good,” Jaster kisses you solidly, and then pulls back, “Say the Riduurok with me.”

“What?”

“Right here. Right now. I have everything we might need for it.” His gaze is intense, “Become my wife, I’ll spend the rest of eternity making sure you’re happy, and no one will ever hurt you again.”

You stare at him, and then you smile, “Alright.”

He grins at you, and carefully climbs off of you.

“Should I put on some clothes?” You joke as you carefully sit up.

“Don’t worry about it.”

************

The following morning, while you’re fast asleep in your bed, coated in a thin layer of bacta to help you heal, with Jango cuddling against you watching cartoons, Jaster calls a meeting with the heads of the various clans.

He’s calm, very calm, dangerously calm. And apparently the men and women in the room can feel it, as they settle in their seats utterly silent.

“It has come to my attention,” Jaster starts slowly, not raising his voice, not having to raise his voice to be heard, “That there is a number among you who feels that my cyare is not good enough for Mandalore.”

Some of the people sitting around the table shift uncomfortably, and Jaster pins each of them with a dark, threatening, stare.

“It has also come to my attention that the verbal abuse turned physical yesterday.” At that there’s a hint of barely controlled rage in his voice, and more than one person flinched back. “Needless to say, not happy is understating how I’m feeling at the moment.”

He pauses, and no one says anything, so Jaster nods once, “So here are the cold, hard, facts. My cyare is now my Riduur. Any attack on her will be seen as an attack on me and my clan, and I will react accordingly.” He pulls his helmet back on, “Make sure that this information is passed out accordingly.”

There are general murmurs of assent, though one brave woman stands, “Mand’alor, I have to say that I think that the woman you chose as your riduur is not good for the future of Mandalore-” She starts only to trail off when Jaster unholsters his blaster and starts examining it thoughtfully.

“Your objection has been noted, and ignored.” Jaster says mildly, “Does anyone else have any complaints?”

The room is totally silent, and Jaster nods. And then he turns and leaves the room. He has a riduur to spend time with, and an ad he hasn’t seen in weeks. And at the moment, his aliit is the only thing that matters.

[rulimaquina]

Farewell To All The Earthly Remains

Fandom: Star Wars.

Characters: Jango Fett. Myles the Mandalorian. Jaster Mereel. Boba Fett.

Ship: Jango Fett x Myles.

Rating: General Audiences.

Tags: Mandalorian Religion (Star Wars) - Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars) - Jango Fett Needs a Hug - Myles' full name is Myles Boba to me - no beta reader we die like men - The Manda as another realm that exists alongside the realm of the living but can't be reached by the living - Parental Jaster Mereel - Major Character Death - Sad with a Happy Ending - Boba Fett Needs A Hug.

Summary:

By the time Myles realized that the Jedi was coming his way, it was too late.

[stormkobra-5]

Family: The House of Fett Poster

This is my family. I found it, all on my own. It's little, and it's broken, but still good. Yeah, still good.

--Lilo and Stitch

Series Masterlist here

Tags: @poeticsorcery @dameronsknight @simonsbluee @seninjakitey @ahookedheroespureheart @adamcarlsenslvr @bluestuesday @magnet-girl @dweeb-central @auszimbo @izbelross @djarinsgirl27 @sokoviansorceress @eerievixen @upbeat-cascade @stark-kirk-rogers-grant-blog @stepasidefilth @missdragon-1 @rmoonstoner @300nightmare003 @pascallllllll1 @knopewyattworld @weliketomoveit @soullesstaco @megzdoodle @graciexmarvel @sunfairyy @darth-vaders-bitch @paintballkid711 @thedudefromdownunder @howlerwolfmax @sofiapadilla28 @ghostwriteser @shirukitsune @cravevhs @kaqua @marc-spectorr @lovely-cryptid

[lchufflepuffcorn]

Meeting you

Chapter 1 : Shadows were lurking in the night

A Jasper Hale Fanfiction series

Masterlist OGW Masterlist Serie Masterlist

Part one, Part two, Part three, Part four,

Spotify link

Author's note: Hi :) So this is the very first chapter where something really happens. I hope you'll like it. It was reworked and everything!

Warning: Sexism, slow-burn romance.

Words: 3577

Mr. Loverman - Ricky Montgomery

↺͏͏     ◁◁͏͏      ll      ▷▷    ⋮≡

1925

Sitting in a park at the last hour of the day as the sun slowly goes under the trees' limit, drowning the world in shadows. (Y/N) was enjoying a book before having to move to a less visible place to exist. She was not one to linger in one place for too long, and it's already been way too long that she'd been sitting on the bench already. While a woman alone in those years was not as strange as when (Y/N) was still a child, it was not yet the norm. And it had been a long while since then.

Darkness did not bother her as much as it did others. There was rarely something worse than what she was lurking about in the nighttime. Therefore, (Y/N) didn't usually bother with what people thought of her. She would sit wherever she liked, and that would be it. As a result, not many people came to bother her while reading her book when the sun started to come down from his throne up high.

That led to how right now, (Y/N) was still sitting on her bench, at nearly nine in the afternoon, reading a book with only the streetlight's help. She did not need any light to read. Her eyes were better than those of most humans. However, she'd smelled a man lurking in the park some thirty minutes earlier and felt his gaze on her multiple times since then. A policeman, she'd figured. His emotions weren't powered by adrenaline but more by worry. He'd walked in circles for some time before he decided to approach her. 

She closed her book as he did so. The woman couldn’t decide if it was because the policeman grew courageous -or foolish- enough to walk up to her. It was irritating, yet, amusement washed through her as he stood mere centimetres away from her. The officer's worry came to the woman in a wave that met her like water met your feet at the beach. It washed over her, bringing everything she felt to a second plan. He stopped in front of her, not speaking for a while as if he was assessing her. While she didn't need to breathe, the fresh air in her lungs -the air (Y/N) took in to speak- gave her a light-headed feeling that cleared her thoughts from the anxiety that was shaking her to her core. But the iron smell coming from the man-made her throat ache painfully, and the venom started pooling in her mouth.

She'd have to go hunting in the next few days, or the thirst would take control of her actions.

"Miss, you should head home, the streets... The streets ain't safe at this time a-night." He said with a smile, offering the woman a hand to help her back to her feet. "Do your Da know where you are?"

(Y/N) was good at ignoring the pain the iron-like smell of blood gave her. And so, she ignored the burning ache that made her mind scream for violence and the sudden over-spill of venom that drenched her mouth before she spoke. Instead, the seemingly young woman smiled in the policeman's direction, accepting his hand. That way, her covered fingers would not be cold against his skin. She directed her attention to the worry he was radiating, like small needles piercing through her lungs. 

"I live just across the street, officer. I appreciate your kindness." Then, as he didn't make any move to leave her, (Y/N) added: "I'll head home now." She was careful not to show too many teeth in her smile, as it always made the humans uncomfortable. And she knew that the sombre time of twilight was accentuating her features in ways she didn’t always appreciate. 

Seemingly satisfied with her answer, the policeman tipped his hat in her direction and turned to continue his round. (Y/N) rolled her eyes toward the star's illuminated sky. She patted the green just-under-the-knees-length dress she wore for the day to clean it from the dust it might have collected before walking in the direction she gave the policeman. His wariness was still clinging to the back of her neck, and she couldn't shake it off her. (Y/N) closed her eyes, concentrating on something else for a while—the wind on her cheeks or the overly-sweet smell of flowers bordering the road. Anything really to try and overcome the emptiness burning in her belly. And the buzzing irritation coming from the building she was sensing rolled over her shoulder. 

The woman was lodging in an all-girl house, paying about ten dollars a month. It was expensive, especially for the room she had, but everything was expensive since the war. Most of the girls (Y/N) lived with were either nurses or girls from the street. She was a teacher. Fresh out of university, seemingly naïve and full of dreams, (Y/N) taught small children from age five to twelve in a private school. Soon she'll have to move out and change the town, but it was calm and lovely for the moment.

(Y/N) liked children for their creativity and their open mind. They didn't ask many questions about why she was so pale, why she was so cold, why her eyes were a weird shade of yellow, or why she looked about their older sisters' age. They all were too busy learning and playing around. Sure, sometimes older boys -the older brothers- tame everywhere and asked about her, trying to make her leave with them. Some even peeving for her to court them, but the woman never gave in.

She didn't like mingling with humans more than was necessary. After all, it was already harder enough to teach -most days- with her condition. (Y/N) didn't want to get in trouble. She'd seen once what power and human could do together. In her experience, it seemed to always end in ashes. Esther liked to remind her that humans were quick to pass on, and there was still a new one to take their place, but it didn’t calm the grief in (Y/N)’s mind. 

The lodging-house had strict rules. No men were allowed inside. Every girl was to be asleep -or at least in their rooms, for the tenth hour of the night. (Y/N) was paying an extra dollar, so the house's matron would turn a blind eye to her nocturnal whereabouts. She'd said that the war had made her insomniac to win herself some pity points. And it wasn't a lie per se. The war had messed her up bad enough to give her living nightmares. Not that the matron needed to know about her inability to sleep anyways. The burning sensation in her throat had nothing to do with the emotions people in the building were feeling. (Y/N) could only sigh. It was nearly eleven at night now, and she was already inside. The woman figured she could stay inside for today. Hunting would have to wait until the next day.

(Y/N) removed her gloves before leaving the lodging-house hall and entering the corridor leading to the rooms. The heavy, gloomy miasma of jealousy and envy made the woman uneasy about staying, at first. It wasn’t unusual for her to sense those emotions, but the constant weight of it was harder to ignore, a little more with each passing day. She knew why the other women felt like that. Toward each other, toward her. It matters in the end. Something was always better in someone else than in yourself. 

She took a small breath, rolling her shoulders to make them seem less tense than they were, and blinked a couple of times to implant the movement as natural to her body. ‘Practice makes perfect, had always said Azaria, and (Y/N) liked to make a good performance. 

(Y/N) could hear the matron's angry steps on the staircase's wood floor. The suffocating feeling of rage and jealousy and emptiness flowed through the woman, overwhelming her like a raging sea would an unprepared boat before she could classify the emotion as if they were information taken from a book. The woman could hear the matron closing the door of the house above the lodging house behind her as she made her way down. With each approaching step, (Y/N) could also feel the irritation she was feeling, hugging her ribcage in a tight iron-like grip, jealousy making her dead heart drop to her heels. The woman placed a surprised expression on her face and redied her jumps for when the matron would barge in the hallway. When (Y/N) turned around, she met the matron's blood-blotched face in anger and she dropped her head in a kind and respectful curtsy.

Mrs. Gordon was a woman in her late forty or early fifties. She was well-rounded and small—her form indicating the bearing of a trail of children in her prime years. But now, the smiling face had gone. A pinched mouth and piercing eyes were in its place that tried to read the information inside your skull every second—searching to catch you in a lie.

"I arranged so that your sister could sleep in your room for the time being. But she'll have to pay for her stay. It's not a whorehouse here." (Y/N)'s brows raised for a quarter of a second, too fast for the matron to see, at her assumption. But, of course, it wasn't called a whorehouse. However, God only knew what kind of things some girls did when the matron wasn't listening.

But what, sister? Thought the woman. Nervously, her now bare fingers met the ancient and heavy-looking golden locket shining at her neck as she started to fiddle with it. Still, she nodded, putting on a thankful face. She didn't have any plans with Esther, and Thade had yet to send her a letter about his whereabouts.

(Y/N) could try, but she couldn't see who was passing for her sister at this hour, so late at night, in this day and age. She didn't know many people, let alone women, with the same condition as her.

Anger rose in the woman's chest from the pit of her stomach until it burned in her cheeks, yet no blood rushed to her face. Contrarily to the matron, standing in front of her, whose cheeks were now a dark red. The matron's eyes were dark with fury. "Should it happen again, I would like you to be like every girl living under this house and tell me beforehand."

(Y/N)'s hand went to her head as she removed the pin that held her small hat attached to her hair. The updo was still tightly tied together, but the little green hat was all dirty from her walk from the school ground to the park. Leaves and small branches had caught it with the wind, leaving little trinkets of their passage there.

"Of course, Mrs. Gordon. It won't happen again." (Y/N) promised, flashing a kind smile to the woman before her. She passed her on the staircase to make her way to her room, and soon enough, the anger she was feeling was replaced by a strangling excitement.

It was refreshing, nearly cold in her insides. Contrasting wildly with how stuffy (Y/N) was feeling seconds ago with Mrs. Gordon. The lump in her throat was making it hard to breathe, or would make it hard if she'd need it. But at the same time, she felt like a swarm of bees had taken her brain hostage. Her hand could only turn the golden door handle from the red-painted door of her room before something cool caught her hand and pulled her inside. The door closed harshly behind her. The blur surrounding (Y/N) was the only sign of how fast everything was.

"I'm so glad I finally got to meet you!" A feminine voice whispered the words in her ear. Shock throbbed throughout (Y/N)'s body, rippling on her nerves like water disrupted by a rock.

The girl who hugged her was not letting go, and her emotions came crashing into the other woman's body, hard. A feeling of unconditional love overcame (Y/N); hot between her ribs, she tugged the girl closer to her dead heart. The girl before her was seemingly floating in a pool of happiness and comfort. (Y/N)'s head was swimming in dizziness she hadn't felt since she was still a human. Or at least, she didn’t remember feeling it in the after. Yet, even if she didn't know who the girl was, she let her out of her arms begrudgingly.

A warm feeling in the pit of her stomach made her uncomfortable. It was as if she should know the girl standing in front of her. Yet the fact that she could place her as someone she recognized brought the homesick feeling of being empty and in unknown territories more present. 

Even if she didn't need it, (Y/N) gasped. The overwhelming emotions still held her calm with the breath of air she took. The younger girl in front of her wore a bashful smile as they separated.

 The twinkling of her eyes made something burn with comforting flames in (Y/N)'s stomach. And the waves of uneasiness returned, colliding into her even harder. 

"I'm sorry to be this improper. I'm Alice." A hand extended in front of (Y/N). 

The woman assessed the one standing in front of her. They were nearly the same height. (Y/N) was about three inches taller than Alice. The younger woman had her dark brown hair cut short, pale like death herself, and her eyes were blood red, unlike (Y/N)'s, who had golden eyes.

"I'm..."

"(Y/N), I know." Giggled Alice. "I saw you months ago." (Y/N) frowned again. Her marble-like face went from calm to bother, like an ancient statue suddenly taking life, unmovable and fixed in a serious expression while she integrated all the information. The soft furrow of her brows and the pout of her mouth cooled the usual warmth of her face. Her hand loosened the grip she had on the other girl's hand. 

Saw her, had they met before? She asked precisely that.

"Oh, no. I'm like you, see. Well, not exactly like you, but I too have a... gift." So said Alice, a crooked smile tugging on her lips as she played with the hem of her dress.

It was a simple dress, a decade older and too big for the girl. As if she'd gotten it from a hand-me-down boutique. The dress seemed well-worn already, and the colour had faded a little. If (Y/N)squinted, she could see a hole in the left sleeve; Alice had stuck her thumb in it.

(Y/N) would have thought Alice was from the little people, a fae or something in the like of it if she didn't know better. Alice had hesitated on the word gift as if she wasn't sure it was the proper term to use. (Y/N) nodded, forcing a smile on her lips, and gestured toward the small table her room was graced with, placed between her bed and the large window. Alice smiled brightly, taking the seat she was offered before continuing her monologue.

"My gift is to see the future or at least a glimpse of what could happen if someone chose to do a certain action." 

Again, (Y/N) nodded. She wasn't sure to understand what the more petite girl wanted to say, but she tried her best, and for that, (Y/N) was not going to discredit her. She could see that the short-haired girl struggled to put in words what she was capable of doing, and the woman thought about how she would explain her capabilities. Not as eloquently as Alice, that was for sure. 

The woman undid her hair from the severe bun she had worn all day until this ungodly hour into the night. The ancient-looking, heavy golden pin that held it throughout the day came to rest on the table where both girls sat. It'd been a gift many years ago, and (Y/N) held on to it religiously. Alice was talking fast, so fast that (Y/N) wasn't sure she understood every word.

"How did you find me?" She asked, finally. Her finger ran through her hair to make sure any remaining knots would leave, letting the brown-ish locks cascade on her shoulders, covering the front of her dress. 

While she lived like a human, she wasn't exactly the most out-going person there was. Not only because she was relatively new in the United States and didn't know many people, but also because of what she was. And still, tension was still holding the world by the scruff of the neck. Nobody was as trustful toward strangers since the war. 

The woman had difficulty figuring out just what had given her out for Alice to find her. It did seem like Alice had followed her for a while. But how had she found her location in the first place? Even if the small, fae-like girl had the gift of prophecy, that didn't make (Y/N) any more tricky for any other enemies to find her too. Had she any enemies? Had she done anything to make some enemies? 

Alice seemed to see the other girl's concerns because a heaviness settled inside her, just on top of her lungs. (Y/N) could feel it too, and she took in a sharp breath. The sadness was a quick passing emotion and was soon replaced by sheepish guilt. The feeling of a feather slowly floating down inside of (Y/N)’s brain overtook her worries. 

"In my visions, you're always surrounded by small children, so I figured you worked in a school or as a nanny. I looked for signs that would tell me where you lived. Then, when I saw the name of the town, I took a train." The girl was decent enough to feel remorse about that last thing. It made (Y/N) giggle. Alice looked like someone's little sister, sneaking around to see who her older sibling would run around with.

She reminded her of Eliott. 

(Y/N)'s ring ornate hand came to play with the locket once again. She took in Alice's appearance. Passing the unmistakable vampire look and her petite frame, Alice -(Y/N) decided- was more beautiful than cute. She had a sharp look in her eyes, and her body was slim. Her hairs were cut unevenly, almost as if they had been forced over her by someone. Over her black dress, definitely too big for her, Alice wore a shawl covering her neck in the same fashion (Y/N) covered her left arm's wrist. Unfortunately, she didn't seem to own any jewels or make-up, so her face did look deadly pale, and she had no way of covering it.

Both girls talked in low voices until the sun made the sky look like a blood-soaked painting. (Y/N) learned what brought Alice to her near the end of the night. She saw that her future was intertwined with hers in one way or another. While they -well, mostly Alice- talked, the other woman decided something about the smaller one. She resembled a pixie. Her sweet but chaotic energy was refreshing in those after-war times when everybody was exceptionally sad.

"I should prepare for my day now..." said (Y/N) while glancing at the sky from the window. She felt Alice's sadness, but she made it look like there was nothing. Yet, the bittersweet taste that lasted on her tongue lingered. "We'll see each other tonight again?"

The question left (Y/N)'s lips before she could stop it, with the face Alice gave her and the sudden burst of butterflies in her stomach, the woman wasn't too sad about it.

"Can you show me where you hunt?" Asked Alice, her eyes full of stars. The other girl was taken aback. In Montana, the town of Kalispell was small, and while the forest was close by, (Y/N) had never hunted with people since she started feeding on animals instead of humans. And it had been years since she started doing so. She preferred to hunt alone and have her peace of mind.

The idea came to her when she heard her creator speaking about the letters. She was exchanging with a member of the Volturi who discovered it possible to survive by feeding on animals. While the process did not entice Azaria, (Y/N) was thrilled to find the new. But, of course, this was all before Azaria's fall.

(Y/N)'s eyes met Alice's once more.

"If you want to, I'm not against it." The small pixie-like girl smiled and opened the door of (Y/N)'s room.

"I'll meet you this afternoon after your classes then?" The young woman nodded, smiling gently as the smaller one skipped down the stairs. She flashed past Mrs. Gordon, who shot her a glare before eyes (Y/N), waiting at the top of the stairs. The angry look the matron gave her was significantly less than the emotion the woman felt. (Y/N) could swear she would die a second time by all the stuffiness she felt in her chest.

[gdcee]

i got a jaster x reader for u. that porny pizza delivery trope parody. where the lady suggestively goes "oh no i dont have money for pizza ;-)......." but the delivery man goes "then why the hell did you order pizza" then leaves with the pizza and slams the door. BUT with jaster and the true mandalorians and y/n, a small territory's governor ghagahhdk (totally okay if u ignore this if it was too much✌)

Y/N: I have other ways of making it worth your while~ -suggestive eyebrow-

Jaster: ...you’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?

Y/N: WHat? NoooOOoo -drops something and does the bend and snap- WhAt gave you tHaT IdEa??

Jaster:

[princessbatears]

The Interruption

The Crash Series #7

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Pairing: Werewolf Paz Vizsla x Female Reader Summary: As you and Paz arrive in town, the Wolf pushes him to ask you to be his mate Warnings: sexual feelings, language, anxiety Words: 1.4k

Paz has never been more grateful for his helmet. Now that the Wolf has chosen you, whatever self-control he had around his heart has been destroyed, and he’s certain he constantly has a stupid, love-struck expression on his face.

It doesn’t help that you and he must share Jaster as you continue your journey to town. You sit in front of him, your ass pressed into the crotch of his armor and your back against his chest and stomach. He has to force himself to keep a loose hold on your middle instead of clutching at you like he wants to.

To make him feel even more like a horny teenage boy, you’re also responding to the close proximity. He hears your heart rate pick up whenever an incline has you leaning harder into him and your skin gets warmer whenever he brushes it with his gloves.

The Wolf remains near the surface, demanding to know why Paz hasn’t confessed his feelings to you yet. You are everything both sides of him could wish for. But the animal part doesn’t understand that there are some difficult logistics to the union. Namely, that he is a Mandalorian bound to his covert and you are wholly devoted to your family’s farm. He can’t stay and he’s not sure you’ll leave.

“We’ll be there soon,” you say, your voice subdued. “The first thing I’ll need to do is barter Jaster.”

Paz frowns, confused. Why would you barter your only steed. “Don’t we need him for the return journey?”

“We’re going to have to walk. Everything I had to trade was taken, and I need flour and other supplies to last the winter.”

“But don’t you need him to plow the fields next spring?”

He hears you swallow hard, your distress rising.

“I’ll barter with my neighbor for the use of his orbak. I’m sure he won’t mind.” You turn to give him a smile that doesn’t meet your eyes.

Paz immediately feels like the biggest di’kut ever. He’s seen how little you have, but he somehow didn’t comprehend the long-term ramifications of what happened when that Rodian escaped. It’s not just that you’re going to be inconvenienced for the next week, it’s that you’re looking at severe hardship for the foreseeable future.

“That’s not going to happen,” he says firmly, putting a hand on your back. “I have more than enough to trade so that you can get what you need. If what I brought with me doesn’t cover it, we’ll go back to my ship and do another round.”

You shake your head. “I’m not letting you do that. I was foolish and I’m paying the price. You don’t need to clean up my messes.”

Paz huffs sharply, frustrated by your insistence you have do this all yourself. “This isn’t charity.” He pauses, deciding now is not the time to tell you that he wants to become mated to you. “You have been beyond generous with your resources and your time. I needed help and you gave it freely. Don’t rob me of the chance to do the same.”

You look at him with swimming eyes. “I didn’t give it to you freely, I made you clean my house.”

Paz can’t help it; he laughs. “If it’ll make you feel better, you can help me tidy my ship. It’s a pretty big mess after that crash.”

This makes you smile as you swipe the unshed tears away with the back of your hand. “Deal.”

Judging by where the sun is in the sky, the two of you will reach town well before moonrise. “Is there an inn or somewhere to stay?”

“Yeah, but I usually just camp on the outskirts. Lodging is expensive.”

“I’d rather stay at a place with a room. These old bones don’t like sleeping on the ground much anymore,” he lies lightly.

The truth is, you haven’t had a proper rest since you were attacked, and he’ll be damned if you don’t get at least one night with a warm bed before making the return journey.

“I’m not sure how much wildlife is available around there,” you frown.

“I’ll buy raw meat to eat. It’s not the Wolf’s favorite way, but he’s had four glorious nights of killing, so he shouldn’t complain.” Besides, the Wolf just wants to be close to you right now.

- - -

Once you and Paz reach town, your first stop is the excellent butcher, who loads up a huge bag of steak and ribs. It costs so much you nearly choke, but Paz doesn’t seem fazed.

Then, it’s to your favorite Nerf stall to get yourself some fried tenders and vegetables. As soon as the container of food is in your hands, a giant gurgle echoes from your stomach.

Paz laughs. “You have the loudest belly of anyone I’ve ever met.”

Scoffing, you guide Jaster to take a right. “I’m sure yours is louder.”

“Not even the Wolf can rival that.” His gloved hand brushes your back lightly as if reassuring you he’s teasing. It takes everything in you not to lean into the touch. A day spent pressed into him has you addicted.

“Do you need anything for the night?” you ask to distract yourself.

Paz pats the large bag of meat. “This’ll do me.”

When the three of you reach the inn, you leave Jaster with the stablehand. “Rest up,” you smile, kissing his nose. This is the first time he’ll get to experience the pampering afforded the pack animals that stay here: a bath, lots of delicious food, and a cozy stable for the night.

Then, Paz leads you into the inn itself. He walks up to the clerk at the desk. “Two adjoining rooms, please. We’ve also left an orbak in the stables.”

The clerk looks uncomfortably up at Paz. “I’m sorry, but we’re quite full this time of year. If you’d made a reservation...”

Your heart sinks with disappointment. You didn’t realize how much you’d been looking forward to a hot shower to get the blood out of your hair. “It’s fine. We’ll get Jaster and go to the woods,” you say to Paz quietly.

“Well, ma’am, we have one room, if you can share,” the clerk continues hesitantly, his nervous eyes stuck on Paz.

Paz cocks his head at you questioningly. “Is that all right?”

Why not? The two of you have been sleeping under the stars together already. “Fine with me.“

The clerk exchanges the credits Paz offers him for a key. “Room 315.”

When you reach the room, you're shocked by how large it is—the size of your whole house. There’s a giant bed in the center, a table and four chairs in one corner, a sofa across from a large holoprojector, and a conservator for preserving food.

Your stomach lets out another giant growl that makes you both laugh. “Mind if I eat?” you ask. The moon will rise soon, but not soon enough.

“I don’t want to find out what will happen if you wait any longer,” he says dryly.

You sit on one of the chairs and begin to shovel food into your mouth. “Force,” you moan happily, dunking a tender into some spicy sauce.

Pulling out the chair across from you, Paz plunks his large frame on it. “Good?”

“So good.” With delicious food and an incredibly comfortable place to sleep, you’re feeling much more cheerful. “Thank you, Paz,” you say earnestly, “for helping me.”

He hums softly, the deep sound crackling through his modulator, as he pulls his gloves off. Then, his hand reaches across the wooden surface, gently wrapping around the one you’re not using to scoop up vegetables. Your heart skips a beat at the tenderness.

“I told you before that my people deeply admire women like yourself. I especially do. Me and my Wolf, we...” The callused thumb of his other hand brushes your cheek. “...want you to be my mate. I love you and want you as my life partner.”

Your eyes go wide.

But, before you can even process, he suddenly groans in pain, retracting his hands hastily. “Fucking moon!” And he bolts for the refresher, leaving you to gape after him.

- - -

Thank you SO much for reading this story; I'd love to hear your thoughts! 🥰

Mando’a Translations: Di’kut - idiot

Paz Vizsla Masterlist

Werewolf Masterlist

[wizardofrozz]

WIP GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Thank you for the Danielle!

I have more wips than I thought 😂

1. Clone exchange

2. Pirate Kix

3. Bad Batch 5+1

4. Commanders

5. CW Modern AU

6. Jaster

7. Hunter x OC

8. Fox/Jedi!reader

9. Brother Down

10. Ignite the Stars (ch.6)

11. W (meant to stand for Wolffe 😂)

I invite anyone else that wants to play as well! 

WIP GAME

RULES: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! and then tag as many people as you have WIPS.

Thanks for the tag @rain-on-kamino

Oh boy. I have... a lot

Candy Girl re-write

Starlit Murder/Noir AU

King Aemond AU Part 2

King Aemond AU Part 3

Hairpin lore building

Western Siren snippets (HotD)

Western AU Kau'ra snippets

Triple Trouble

Triple Trouble OC rewrite

Vader x reader corruption fic

Just like Heaven

Honor Among Criminals rewrite/Mineshaft II

Prompts 6 and 7 Elaemond

Prompts 10 and 11 Fox'ra

“You can spend the rest of your life with me, but I can’t spend the rest of mine with you.”

Wheel of Fortune chap 1

"Your taste in men is horrible" with Danny

Lingerie w/ Corrie Guard

Noir Kau'ra + Thorn prequel

Elaemond sex pollen

That's just the ones I could find I know I have more!

No pressure tags: @book-of-baba-fett @galacticgraffiti @samspenandsword @writingbylee @thefact0rygirl @purgetrooperfox @sleepingsun501 @rexxdjarin @wild-karrde @twistedstitcher27 @fett-djarin and anyone else who wants to because I feel like I missed people sdsfsh

[lilhawkeye3]

give yourself to me

Jango Fett x fem!Reader

Rating: E |||| Word Count: 3200 |||| Before the Star Wars Prequels |||| AO3 Link

Warnings: lmao well I tried to be feral and this turned out kinda soft. Oral (fem receiving), piv, soft nicknames from Jango, restraints, overstim, no condom, uhhh "we almost died so now we're gonna fuck"

A/N: this idea stemmed from Elle's feral hours so this is for @escapedthesarlacc hehe. Also thanks to @chadillacboseman and @amukmuk for putting up with my need for validation :)

Jango growled in anger as the ramp to Jaster’s Legacy closed behind you both, sealing you in alone with him. You were breathing heavily from your race back to the ship, the bounty and entire base blown to smithereens behind you.

You were injured in your shoulder, shrapnel having caught you when you pushed Jango out of the way of the blast. His agonized shout still rings in your ears while you slump against the wall, staring blankly at his tense form raged into the cockpit, leaving you with the emptiness of your thoughts in the cold hull.

You’d… you’d never seen Jango act like this before, in all your months of taking bounties with him.

His voice pulled you out of your daze as he ducked back into the hull, rich brown eyes boring into yours. “What the karking hell were you thinking?!”

You blinked at him several times before what he said sank in. “I’m sorry?”

A muscle in Jango’s face ticked as he clenched his jaw. “You’re ‘ sorry ?’ You almost died, mesh’la !”

“So did you!” You snapped back, his ire fueling your own. “I– your back was turned, and even your armor can’t save you from tons of falling metal! I couldn’t let you die!” You rose to your feet and stormed forward to get into his personal space. The bastard simply tilted his head down to glare at you more easily.

“Rather me than you!” He growled, finally stepping towards you. You stumbled back towards the cold wall, hissing slightly when your back pressed the metal. Jango stalked your every movement, placing one hand next to your head and leaning down to properly face you. You found yourself unable to turn away from the burning intensity etched into his entire expression.

“I almost lost you,” he murmured in a low voice, reaching up with his free hand to brush his knuckles gently from your temple to your chin before stopping to tilt your face up towards his. “And I’d never…” He trailed off and your breath caught in your throat at the sight of his eyes flickering down to your lips.

You filled the silence that ensued as Jango struggled with his thoughts. “I can’t do this without you, Jango.”

“Ner kar’ta,” he breathed with wide eyes, and then he met you halfway as you surged up to kiss him.

Jango’s large hand cupped your face to him as you both battled for control, feeding all your frustration and hurt and heartache into each other. Your palms pressed flat against his chest plate as you leaned up into his embrace, cherishing his gasp when you playfully nipped at his lips. You whined in confusion as he pulled away to stare at you hungrily.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, baby girl,” Jango said fiercely. “You gonna let me fuck you until you forget your name?”

You forgot how to breathe as his offer filled the space between you. You’d often had dreams of Jango taking you in the aftermath of a successful bounty, or even just in the downtime of one of your hyperspace journeys. Now here he was, offering himself to you in the wake of his emotional confession.

How could you ever say no to the man you loved?

You raised one of your hands to press against his where it still was caressing your face. “Yes, Jango,” you smiled, shifting his hand so you could press a kiss against his palm.

He immediately pressed you back against the wall, his lips finding yours again fiercely. His tongue licked into your mouth, asserting his dominance and control over you. You willingly let him, wanting to lose yourself in him. His hands worked your belt, untucking your armorweave shirt and sliding his hand up your chest to palm your breast. His calloused thumb flicked over your nipple several times before drawing a moan out of you as he pinched it.

“So receptive,” he murmured against your skin as he let his mouth trail down to your neck while his other hand started pulling down your trousers.

“Touch me,” you gasped, arching your chest up into his hand and fumbling at Jango’s own belt and codpiece. It wasn’t fair– you were already so exposed to him and yet he still had a layer of armor and his flight suit keeping you from his skin. You growled in frustration and pushed him away, hurriedly working on taking off your own clothes. “Armor, suit: off now.”

Jango huffed at being ordered around but began to strip off his armor and drop it to the floor. “Yes, ma’am.” It was hard to concentrate on stripping your own clothes off when the first bit of Jango’s golden skin was revealed to you. He quirked his eyebrow at you after looking up to see your gaze on him as he unzipped his flight suit slowly, just to increase your frustration. “See something you like?”

You couldn’t help yourself from biting your lip in interest. “I might,” you teased as you wiggled your way out of your shirt. The few seconds of blindness had you squealing in surprise when you felt large hands slide down your sides. Once you’d freed yourself, you found Jango stripped to his waist and kneeling directly in front of you.

“Back against the wall, baby girl,” he rumbled, thumbs slipping under your waistband and sliding your trousers down your legs and off with your boots. “That’s it. Good girl.”

A whine slipped out of you at the unexpected praise, and you felt yourself grow wet just at the sound of it. But then his tongue ran up your folds and your knees nearly buckled and gave out. Your fingers reached out to thread into his thick hair and hold him closer against you as one of his hands gripped onto your waist and the other dipped between your legs, a pair of fingers teasing at your cunt as his tongue moved to swirl around your clit. You tried to rock your hips into him, seeking more, but his grip on you was firm.

“I want you to touch me,” you panted, your chest rising and falling as if you’d just run a race.

“Hmm?” Jango pulled away to ask, and you nearly came right then when you looked down to see your slick glistening on his face as he gave you a Cheshire grin. “Gotta be more specific than that.”

“I want you to fuck me with your fingers and cum on your tongue,” you blurt out, tugging him back towards you. A breathy laugh escaped you when he paused to nip at your inner thigh, but it blended into a moan as he delved back into your core.

He devoured you like you were his last meal, using his fingers to spread you open while his tongue lapped up into you. He had you pinned exactly where he wanted you. Between the metal wall and Jango’s iron will, you were trapped prey and entirely at his mercy.

You tried to watch him as he worked, but the moment he slipped a finger inside of you, your head tipped back against the wall and you let out a loud cry. It wasn’t enough, you wanted more. You could take more, and you said so.

“I know you can, mesh’la,” Jango murmured and he did follow through, slipping a second finger into your heat. “Show me, then.” His darkened gaze met yours. “Fuck yourself on my fingers.”

Oh, stars.

You whined as you followed his command, beginning to rock down against his hand. His thumb was positioned just so you would brush against it with each downstroke, and he swiped against your stiffened bud each time. He muttered encouragement as you continued to work your way towards your peak, your legs trembling more and more as you worked towards your orgasm.

“That’s it, baby. Cum on my fingers.”

“Yes, yes, Jango ,” you cried out as you came onto his waiting tongue, neck bared and back arched.

He didn’t wait a moment before latching back onto you, sucking on your clit as he curled his fingers within you. It sent a jolt of electricity surging up your spine, prying another cry from your throat. Your first orgasm hadn’t fully subsided, and his renewed attention on your sweet spot sent you tumbling into another wave of pleasure.

Jango rose up on his feet to lavish attention onto your chest as you came down, swirling his tongue around one of your nipples as his hands cupped your ass and lifted your legs around his waist. You gasped in surprise and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he carried you off to his room.

He already knew his ship by heart. Now was his time to learn a map of you.

Before you knew it, Jango was already laying you back onto his bedsheets, his hands pressed on either side of your head as he began to kiss his way down your exposed body. You fought to keep your eyes on him as he glanced up at your face to watch your expression while he worked his way lower.

“Already blissed out for me, kar’ta? You gonna be able to take my cock?” He asked, rubbing his still-covered crotch against your wet cunt. You let out a quiet groan in frustration, wanting him to do something, anything, to help quench the fire that was still burning within you.

“Don’t tease me,” you whined, reaching towards Jango, but he tsk-ed patronisingly.

“Thought you were my good girl.”

Your eyes widened. “I am, no, I can be good for you!”

Jango chuckled at your desperation and reached down to his utility belt, pulling out a pair of magnetic cuffs. “Gonna prove it to me? Hands above your head.” He pressed a kiss to the inside of each of your wrists before snapping the cuffs shut on you and guiding your arms so you wouldn’t be in an uncomfortable position once the cuffs magnetized to the wall behind your head.

You watched with bated breath as Jango pulled back and kneeled between your spread legs, finally working on taking the rest of his flight suit off. Your mouth fell open in shock as his cock sprung free once his suit had made it to his mid-thigh. He was already leaking precum that left the thick head of his cock slick and shiny, and once he noticed your gaze was locked onto it, he began stroking himself with a feral grin.

“You like what you see, mesh’la?” Jango asked, smearing his precum over his shaft to prep himself for you.

“Just fuck me already,” you hissed. You wanted to rub your thighs together to relieve some of the pressure, but Jango wouldn’t allow it. “Unless you don’t want to anymore?”

Jango snarled at your challenge and practically ripped off the rest of his flight suit before pressing himself over you and down into the bed so he could kiss you. You pulled his bottom lip between your teeth to bite at him, knowing he’d like a bit of fight.

“Fuck me until I forget my name,” you whispered.

“With pleasure.”

You shrieked his name as he thrust into you in one smooth motion, hitting deeper than you even could by yourself, toy or not. Between his size, the way he throbbed within you, and the friction he gave you as his cock brushed against spots that had you shaking.

He slid one hand under your ass, tipping your lower body up towards him to reach even deeper within you. You couldn’t control the way your cunt pulsed around his cock, the way you gushed around him as he groaned your name when you clenched down on him particularly tightly.

“Feels so good,” you moaned, trying to keep your eyes locked onto Jango’s. He watched you with hooded eyes and a furrowed brow, pouring all of his energy into you right here, right now. He’d almost lost you without ever holding you close, feeling your skin under his, hearing you cry his name in pleasure. Making you see stars was the most important thing he could do in this moment.

“You feel perfect around my cock, kar’ta,” he moaned. “You’re perfect.”

His words rang with such sincerity that they brought tears to your eyes. He was yours. He wanted you. “Jango, can I cum? Please, I want to be good for you.”

“Cum for me,” he replied, his voice sounding strained for the first time all night.

Oh . You sobbed openly as you came hard around him, your ears full of white noise as your legs shook around his waist. Jango leaned down to pepper kisses to your sternum until the waves of your orgasm had subsided into aftershocks. Your head lolled to one side as you panted and recovered your breath, but you could feel his hard cock still throbbing within your cunt.

“I’m not done with you yet,” Jango promised and ground his hips into you, grinning with pride as you nodded and moaned.

He lifted your legs up onto his shoulders as he fucked into you, thumb under your bottom lip and fingers under your chin, tilting your head towards his face so you can’t avoid his gaze. His head bent down to nip along your collarbone, leaving a trail of marks to signify his claim on you. His other hand rubbed up and down your left leg like he couldn’t believe you were really here with him.

“Eyes on me, baby girl,” he rumbled. “There you go, good girl.”

“Jango,” you keened, fighting to keep your eyelids from fluttering shut as his cock brushed against something devastating within you. You try to let your head fall back as your cunt clenched around him, but his grip under your chin wouldn’t let you turn away. It had you gushing around him even more, whines falling from your lips as you flushed hotter under his intense focus.

“Gimme another one, mesh’la,” Jango ordered, thumb coming up to pull down your lip and slip into your mouth. You sucked on it without a second thought, letting it muffle your moans as Jango hitched your legs up higher onto his shoulders and thrust into you.

You felt the tell-tale coiling in your abdomen grow tighter as your legs began to tremble and your back arched up towards Jango. He kept reeling you in with each caress of his hand, each stroke of his cock, each praise that spilled free from him and filled the cracks in your soul. He was tearing you apart and putting you back together with pieces you’d been missing without even realizing.

Jango was what you’d been missing all along, but now he was here and he was never letting you go.

“Please, please, Jango, I–” You broke off into a sob as you lifted your hips to meet his, wrists straining against the cuffs keeping them above your head. Jango’s finger left your face and slid down your body to nestle between your legs and rub tight circles onto your clit. Your helpless cries tapered off into silent screams as Jango coaxed you higher and higher towards that tipping point.

“Let me see you, kar’ta,” Jango murmured, never looking away from your face while you quivered beneath him, your warm and wet core fluttering around him uncontrollably as you fell apart. “Come on, be my good girl.”

Your voice cracked when you whimpered in response. “Yours, yours, please...!” You’d already given him all you could, and yet here he was, still managing to wring even more from your blissed form.

“You can do it– cum for me,” Jango urged.

That was all you needed.

You saw white. A strangled shriek tore from your throat and your body tensed up underneath him, allowing you to feel every ridge and vein on Jango’s cock as he continued to fuck you through your high despite the way you clenched around him. The pleasure coursing through you was all too much, and Jango wasn’t showing any sign of stopping his sharp thrusts, and his thumb was still circling your clit, and and and–

The world was hazy as you tried to blink everything back into focus.

“-’ta? Kar’ta, are you alright? Talk to me.” That was Jango’s voice, but why did he sound so worried?

You shut your eyes and turned your head slightly into the warmth of his palm on your right cheek with a content hum. “Felt s’good,” you slurred softly.

“Stars , there you are.” The sheer relief in his voice had a rush of affection coarse through you. “Not sure where you went for a moment.”

“Wha’?” It was a struggle to open your eyes again, but this time you could clearly see Jango’s intense gaze as he studied you. Between the daze still clouding your mind and the gentle way he was handling you, you were almost convinced that this was a dream.

With every passing moment, however, more and more of your situation came flooding back to you. There were dried tear tracks on your face. Your throat was scratchy and parched. Every part of you felt boneless, except for your cunt, which was still throbbing around Jango’s softened cock despite how deliciously sore you felt… and then there was the way your thighs and the bedding under you were completely soaked.

“Did I…?” You tried to sit up to actually see for yourself what you already were beginning to assume had happened.

“You squirted all over my cock, kar’ta.” Jango sounded incredibly smug. His smirk grew even wider as you moaned in response to his words, your hips weakly bucking up into him almost instinctively. “Think I fucked you so hard that you blacked out.”

You whimpered weakly at this information, knowing it was true from the gap in your memory. There was no way you’d be able to be with anyone else after the way Jango had just fucked you into incoherency.

You moved to reach for him, but the cuffs still around your wrists kept you held back. “Jango…”

He mumbled a curse but readily reached up to free you, falling to the bed beside you and pulling you into his arms. “I got you.” You liked the way that your face perfectly slotted into the crevice of his shoulder and still allowed him to bury his nose into your hair.

“Can we stay here for a while?” You asked, voice muffled by his skin. Your arms tightened around his middle as if you could hold him close and never let him go.

“Yeah. We got time,” Jango murmured. You felt a gentle kiss against the crown of your head. “We got time.”

——————————

Tags: @maybege @jango-fettish @janghoefett @catsnkooks @graaaaceeliz @anxiety-riddled-mando @anakinswhore @simping-for-fives @nelba