#never once has his private life or any aspect of it been a focus of promo. or even his golf career as a matter of a fact

[fuchsea]

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[queenie-official]

Chapter Five: ‘A royal wedding’ Bridgerton Au!Anakin

part 1, 2, 3, 4

a/n: sorry this took a while to get out guys😅 i was hanging out with my bestie since she was visiting home from college😋😋 anyways i ended up cutting most dialogue from this chapter just to focus on the emotional aspect- i hope you guys still enjoy 💅✨

a royal wedding was never a small affair for any kingdom. regardless of wether it was public or made private to the people, they would celebrate the conjunction of a happy couple. which seemed ironic considering most royal marriages where strictly out of politics rather than love. you of all people where very aware of the fact considering your situation. so here you are precisely three hours before the wedding pacing in your undergarments as poor Eleanora tries to help get you dressed.

Padme sat on a stool watching you work yourself into a frenzy, she’d already tried to get you to stop but it was futile. in the end you had managed to tune her out entirely to consumed in your own thoughts and worries to process the world around you.

“y/n if you don’t stop moving you’re going to have to show up to your wedding in your underwear” Padme tried once more to garner your attention. slowing to a stop you turn to look at her and then to Eleanora who had quickly seized action the moment you stopped and began putting on your pannier, fearing if she missed the opportunity you’d be a pacing mess again.

“sorry it’s just hard to sit still knowing that i’m going to be a married women in a few hours…” you sigh out still fidgeting slightly as you stood in place but at the very least Eleanora could work with that. Traditionally there would be five to ten bridesmaids with you right now but as much as you got along with your other ladies-in-waiting you didn’t exactly trust them, so it was just the two you knew you could count on most.

“it’s okay to be nervous i was nervous when i got married to my husband” Padme said in a attempt to make you feel less alone. “yes but you did not have the weight of two kingdoms relying on your marriage” you feel the weight of the day pull you down along with what felt like the thousands of layers you where now wearing. yet still Eleanora was not done as she continued to dress you, a wave of fear that you may pass out from how heavy the dress was rushed through you but you pushed it away feeling as if that would be one of the better outcomes of the day rather then some of the other scenarios your brain had come up with.

“i’ve been thinking about it all, what today is going to be like- what the rest of my life is going to be like…” you add running a hand through your hair that still has to be done. you honestly just wished for the day to be over, then you could rest and breath properly once more. free of stress even for just a moment.

“perfectly normal thing to do your majesty” Eleanora said as she finished the final touches of basting on your engageantes. “i just can’t help but feel like something is going to go wrong” you sigh looking down to your hand and staring at the ring that now weighed down your finger, it was a pleasant weight in your opinion. something about it brought a comfort to you, even if the only reason Anakin had given it to you was out of his mothers request. clearly he had thought it worth something to choose a diamond so personal to the place he was from- or maybe you where reading into it too much.

“there’s no sense in worrying about something that has yet to happen.” Padme counters as she and Eleanora both begin to work on your hair once you take a seat in front of your vanity, you were sat at a horrible angle. unable to sit properly with how tight the corset was, you quite literally could not bend. “i feel like i’ll be better prepared if i do” you say with a small pout to your lips that makes padme laugh. “it’s yet to help you thus far” she points out as you nervously twist the ring on your finger, the only thing you could really use to occupy yourself without moving too much. “maybe i just find comfort in worrying, that’s strange isn’t it?”

“i wouldn’t say strange but i also wouldn’t say it’s normal” well you certainly could always count on Padme for being honest. your whole body ached from the position you where in as pin after pin is inserted into your hair, ensuring that everything stay in place. “by the end of today i’m going to be a wife. that doesn’t even sound real”

“the sooner you are a wife the council will schedule the coronation and Alderaan will have a queen and king again” Padme says happily probably thinking that would make you feel better since you’d finally have the control over the council you needed but all it really did was make you cringe inwardly. “No pressure” you mumble as they finish and you can stand again, feeling just a smidge of relief not having the corset dig into you as much. looking over yourself in the mirror you did have to admit for as much as it was a pain the outcome was beautiful. the dress itself was a work of art, each layer having intricate lace detailing as well as pearls and ribbons sewn in- it reminded you of the porcelain dolls you played with as a child.

“you’ll do great y/n, and we’ll be by your side through it all” Padme said with a smile and you felt yourself relax. she was right you could do this, and if something did happen you knew you had people to fall back on.

less then any minute now and you would be walking down the isle of the church. You weren’t to be seen by anybody until then, that did little to help settle your nerves. Padme and Eleanora where now waiting with the rest of the ton inside the walls of the church, you had no one to voice your thoughts to. no one to help ease you, and you found yourself growing increasingly more nauseous. the heat of the day mixed with the weight of your gown did not make it any easier for you, the earlier fear of passing out coming back in a brief wave before you pushed it down.

there you stood in one of the private rooms awaiting for the Chancellor who’d be the one to walk you down the aisle. you hated it, that he’d be the one to walk you. it felt like a cruel joke in a way, he’d been the one to convince the rest of the royal council along with Barclay of the rash decision for Anakin to be the one you marry. and now here he was being the one to hand you off to him, as much as it irked you the thing that bothered you the most was solely the fact it wasn’t your father. honestly you’d finally accepted the fact this was truly happening but now there was a grief that surrounded it. mourning the fact your parents would not be there to see you.

twisting the ring on your finger, round and round. over and over- you had to admit this was much better than pacing. less effort for sure, less dizzying since you weren’t the one going in circles. circles that matched your thoughts, round and round. you take a deep breath the door to the room opening, turning round to face the Chancellor. you felt your throat dry as you nod to him.

now walking along the corridors of the church heading to the Nave. you could hear your heartbeat in your ears, and for a moment you thought you may actually pass out. thankfully the sound of trumpets and a piano rang throughout the building pulling you back down to reality. the doors in front of you now opening, you could only hope you didn’t look as sickly as you felt. “your majesty” Chancellor Valorum called your attention to him, glancing him over slightly confused only to notice his extended arm. right, it was time- you take hold and force a smile hoping you looked happy enough for everyone to believe you.

you look ahead of you as you both begin walking down the aisle, finally meeting the eyes of your soon to be husband. he stood tall, and was probably dressed the best you’d ever seen him so far- though it’s not like you saw him much to begin with. you decided it best to focus solely on him, the smile on your face becoming a bit more genuine. you may not know him personally yet but you could still admire his looks- it felt a bit wrong initially like you weren’t supposed to like how he looked. as if it would diminish the fact you didn’t see him as a lover, though you guessed you should probably change that line of thinking anyway.

he was truly handsome, nice jawline. pretty eyes, curls that you felt added a boyish charm to him. and then there was his smile, you hadn’t even realized you focused in on it as you now stood before him. his hand extended for you to take so the ceremony could begin. his smile was warm and soft, it calmed you. gently taking his hand as you stand side by side now, facing one another head on. you move your gaze up meeting his eyes, soft blues that where already staring down at you. selfishly you allow yourself to get lost in them, tuning out the world around you not even listening to what the Archbishop spoke.

the only thing that reminded you of where you were and what you where doing was the sound of Anakins voice. “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” he recited the vows the archbishop had just told him which meant it was now your turn. half listening to what the archbishop said before he gave you the very same vows to repeat, nodding to let you know to go. “to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part.” you say with a surprising confidence, you turn your face away from Anakin’s for the first time since the ceremony began.

now looking towards the archbishop as he closed the ceremony. a new ring added to both of your fingers, a wedding band.

Warmth and music, that’s all you felt as you danced a waltz with Anakin. you were actually having fun, he made it easy in all honesty. conversation between you both was flowing naturally and he made you laugh- you where pretty sure he enjoyed making you laugh. there was of course the voice in the back of your head that reminded you it was all for show. that you where both only acting like two people in love for the hundreds of eyes on you. part of you could only hope that at the very least a little bit of it was real, something small and budding that might have a chance of flourishing.

you refocus on the man in front of you, not wanting to sour a good moment with your concerns. allowing him to dance you both into a stupor, song after song. paying no one else a mind, regardless of the situation this day was about you two. a joyous occasion, and for once you did not need to think about anyone else but yourself and each other- for once you did not feel the weight of a kingdom on your shoulders. instead you felt like a normal girl from the ton dancing with a man who had simply asked for a dance, a dance that lasted for hours. of course all good things have to come to an end, and eventually your endless dance came to a halt.

you both walk hand in hand outside along the carpet preparing to speak to each guest at the ball and bid them their farewells. it was a little chilly but as it happened Anakin ran warm, and with him alongside you the chill of the night bothered you no longer.

part 6

Tag list: @luvvfromme @gatekeepingirlboss

@bimbo-baggins86 @bby-imasociopath

okay loves🤭 i hope you enjoyed this one, i know the ball scene was a bit short but don’t worry this will not be the only Ball, and the next time there is one it will include a lot more 😋 i just wanted to focus mostly on the wedding portion and didn’t want to draw to far away from that 💋💋 anyways have a great day huns Xx

[amomentofsonder]

*posting my 4-year-old write up from my private tumblr acct hehehe thought of sharing it out there after seeing a cute IG reel about the series heheheh

Post-Before

I came across a Facebook post about a fourth installment entitled Before the End on the widely-acclaimed Before series which has long been part of my watchlist. This prompted me to immediately start binge watching the trilogy -- Before Sunrise, Before Sunset, and Before Midnight -- and I didn’t regret choosing this over the You series which I’ve bookmarked a site for since I don’t own any Netflix account as of this time. Most of us know how minimalistic the movies are since it revolves and highlights conversations which made the trilogy famous. The first (1994) and second movies (2004) highly focus on the two main characters’ conversations but on the third movie (2013), there was more improvement since there were multiple characters present. What makes the trilogy also special are the topics being covered throughout the dialogues which ranges from love, politics, music, books, movies, dreams, memories, and any other aspects of life. 

The story starts with an American tourist meeting a French student aboard a train after the latter transferred a seat across the former to stay away from a fighting couple. It was the summer of ‘94 when the conversation between a cynic Jesse and a romantic Celine started. The two walked around the streets of Vienna, talking and reminiscing, after Jesse convinced Celine to get off the train with him and continue their conversation. They only had an evening since Jesse will be returning to the US the next morning and Celine needs to return to Paris for school. They didn’t exchange information but planned on meeting six months after on the same place. Call my cynical but I believe this sort of situation only happens probably 20% in real life (???) because you may never know but the person you’re talking to is actually some kind of psycho killer or thief but I’m not denying that it’s romantic though. It’s just that the world is not a safe place to live in and we all have to be vigilant if we want to live. 

On the second movie, nine years after the events of the first, you could really see the drastic changes between the two main characters. Jesse, a now successful writer and a married man with a son named Hank, writes a book on his experiences nine years prior while Celine becomes an environmentalist and an activist with a long distance war photographer boyfriend. Everything was fine until Celine read his book and decided to attend his last book tour at her favorite bookshop in France. Sparks fly and their feelings once again reignited upon meeting but they only have an afternoon since Jesse is to fly back to the US in the evening. It was also known that Jesse actually went back to Vienna as planned. However, Celine was not able to make it due to her grandmother’s death which happened on the same day of their plan. In this movie, you could see how both characters were unhappy with their current situations despite their excellent contributions to their respective careers. Personally, I somehow relate myself with Celine and her unluckiness in her love life after having several ex-partners who each got married after breaking up with her and calling her thanking her how she helped them in knowing what love is. I mean, wow, are we grooming men to be the future husbands of other women??? Hahahaha I just can’t with the idea.

The third film is set another nine years after the events of Before Sunset. They are now together here with twins after Jesse divorced his wife in the US. They had a deal to have their son, Hank, visit them every Summer. This movie made so much improvements compared to the previous ones because it touched so many topics with multiple characters and conversations present and also highlights the conflict between Celine’s career and Jesse’s frustration in being a father with his elder son. The family are invited in Greece by a famous writer for a six-week vacation. The infamous fight between Jesse and Celine marks the climax of the movie and people were wondering if they would really end up 56 more years to match the 74 marriage years of Jesse’s grandparents. I can’t also help but relate with Celine, not as a mother but as a woman. Because of the patriarchal principles established in our society wherein women are expected to stay at home, tend to the children and the house -- the woman is capable and wants to do the things she loves to do that would empower her as an individual but finds it hard to do it because of being tied with her family. I understand Jesse’s dilemma as well since he is aware of the effects of their divorce to his son and there is this constant pressure of saving him from the impending effects who lives miles away from where they are based. Jesse wanting to be with Hank means Celine giving up her career thus, starting a conflict in their married life. If I were them, they can settle a schedule where Jesse travels to and fro to stay with Hank for a couple of weeks perhaps without neglecting his father and husband duties with Celine and Nina and Ella and then Celine can now go on with her plans and aspirations for her career. It may be hard but marriage and love consist of compromises and sacrifices for the ones you love and yourself. They just have to meet somewhere in between.

Remember when I said I started watching the trilogy after seeing snippets of Before the End with Jesse and Celine in a video call, separated? I probed a fan and apparently that wasn’t real and they were pieces of interviews put together to make it look legit. God, I was so relieved because I think I couldn’t bear yet the idea of them eventually separating given with that tense events in the third movie. It was a nice try for the fans though. At least it fooled me to finally start watching it hahahahahaah

The Before Series taught me so much about life that it really is not always magic and butterflies. The transformation of Celine from being a romantic French girl to a careful, fearful woman got me a lot and made me realize that it’s actually hard to find someone to spend your life with and appreciate mundane stuff with. Jesse’s cynical and depressed personality made him write books as a way of channeling his inner emotions and make them alive. People with deep emotions are usually the ones inclined to arts and I could never agree more. And of course, the connection established among people is something the series showed me and it’s one of the most important foundations in building relationships as long as you are honest and genuine within yourselves. 

The storyline was actually based on a real life event by the director of the trilogy himself. Apparently, the real woman inspired by Celine’s character died before the release of the Before Sunrise in which the director only knew of this in 2010.

[sflksjlksflksj]

personal diary

day 3 of remembering to write. things at home seem to be doing better. I tell my husband alot of whats on my mind when i am struggling and he always does his best to help me. He’s a huge workaholic. If he doesnt have work he is doing things around the house, doing yard work or helping me clean and upkeep the house. He only gets like at most 2 days off a week and his past 3 days off he has spent it mostly with me and just being there for me instead of doing stuff and it has helped me alot. Sometimes i need days where we are just cuddling and going with the flow. I think alot of my issues with newer/younger couples is that i feel like me and him will never have those same moments again and that makes me envious and feel like we arent soulmates. I know we are soulmates. i just lose myself in family life sometimes and need him to breathe fresh air into me so i can focus on myslef and not my surroundings. I hate his brother and i wish i didnt as much as i do. I hate him so much that seeing him be a 19 year old drop out isnt good enough for me. I hate that his mother got him a car. i hate that he has never held down a job longer than a few weeks. I hate that he dates around like crazy and brings these girls home for days to even weeks at a time. it feels like for me at least, me and his brother got the shit end of the stick when it comes to when we first started dating. His mother was always shaming us or critisizing us and we had jobs and were doing shit. But his brother is smoking weed and ditching school and she is buying him dinner everynight and...well at least thats how i feel. i know my feelings are exaggerated more than 86 percent of the time so i need to get over it. talking things out with my husband helps a load but it helps alot to write it down too and see how far ive matured and far ive come. I have kept multiple diarys before on laptops and computers but it was always private and i always lost them when i sold/broke the computers so itll be nice to have sometjhing thatll be online forever and i can look back on. i know i have matured alot but i also have gone downhill in some other aspects. for instance i have been drinking alot more, like 4-5 days out of the week i mix vodka into juice and drink like 7-10 cups. Not good at all. i have never gotten drunk and thats what started this drinking was that i wanted to get drunk once and it didnt work so every night ive been drinking here and there and now its becoming a destress thing and i hate it. i dont need alchohol but im feeling like i am starting down that road and i dont know how to stop exactly. Ill set out not to buy any and then ill just ask my husband to pick some up and he always is up for it. i dont know. when i drink i do care alot less about those thoughts in my head. I was able to acutally sit on the couch and talk and vibe with my mother in law while i was drunk. i know i am being stupid. my mother in laws ex husband was a alchohlic and i am sure she can see any signs of someone intoxicated. she hasnt said anything to me and we have been getting along great since then. i love my kids so much and i am so unhealthy currently. the worst i have ever been. and not only am i the fattest i have ever been but now i am drinking and i am so scared of now being able to do better. ive been talking for weeks about going on a diet but i have no fucking self control or discipline to do it and i hate so much how good i am at dissasociating with my problems. i hope i can get better with time man. i am hoping that as i grow and mature ill get some fucking self control. ive been able to reign myself in mentally sometimes when i find myself going off on unhealthy tangents in my head but again, it doesnt work for long and i always end up thinking the same way within minutes. i am going for a week to visit my dad and my step mum and let them see the boys and i am hoping there i can quit this drinking and possibly not binge eat shit and that can be my little taste of being the responsible adult i hope to be soon.

[cazimagines]

Perfectly Exasperating - Chapter 3

Synopsis: While you have been unknowingly kidnapped Zemo is determined to make the time he spends with you the best that he can

Word count: 5.4k

Author’s note: Hey all! This is sorta a one-month celebration of my account and for all the love you guys have shown this series and my other series 'A Freudian Slip' I can't thank you enough! My editing program decided to screw me over though so if you can see a difference grammatically in the first half and the second half that's why

Masterlist

(Please check out my master list to see what I will be writing next and if requests are open or closed)

Cross-posted to ao3 under the same username

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Your eyes slowly flutter open as the warmth from the sun shining through the curtains touching your skin waking you up. Yawning and stretching, feeling the soft duvet move on top of you, you sighed in content, closing your eyes again as you embraced the happiness which had been foreign to you for so long. You reach out to seize the end of the duvet and gradually slide out of the bed; you feel the slight chill of the morning breeze brush against your exposed legs. Crossing over to the wardrobe your hand reaches out to flick through the many dresses, shirts, trousers that hung in there, all belonging to shops such as Gucci, Prada, Valentino. There were clothes appropriate for any event, but today you choose comfortably as you pull out a maroon knitted sweater and dark blue jeans. Though appearing to be rather cheap clothes, you knew Zemo would never have spent less than $100 on them.

When Zemo said he would take care of you, he meant it in every aspect. It was a culture shock going from the relatively poor life you lived, surviving off the small amount of money they paid you for being an Avenger to being treated like royalty by Zemo. Not that you were complaining. It was a guilty pleasure of yours enjoying this luxury, a part of you hoping it would never end. If you had told yourself just a few weeks ago, you would have enjoyed living with Zemo you would have laughed in your face but that man had certainly turned on the charm and you couldn’t help but feel the slightest big thankful for him for everything he has done for you.

You finally leave the confines of your room, something you had only been allowed to do a few times until today. You convinced Zemo yesterday that you weren’t concussed from when John had hit you with the shield and that you would be fine getting up and walking around. He was still hesitant but knew he couldn’t keep you confined in your bed forever.

You close your eyes as you inhale the sweet smell of cooking pancakes, making your stomach grumble greedily. Following the scent, you work your way down through the interior design living room into the lavish kitchen where Zemo currently had his back turned to you as he attempted to flip the pancake he had in the frying pan. His purple turtleneck sleeves were pulled up, exposing his forearms as they tensed, trying to get the timing right to flip the pancake. He does so with perfect accuracy, the golden brownness of the pancake soaring up into the air and landing back down in the frying pan, sizzling.

Zemo giggles to himself, celebrating his minor achievement as he waves the frying pan, his body swaying along slightly with it.

“That smells heavenly,”

Zemo whips around at hearing your voice pierce the air. “Ah y/n! Please, take a seat while I make breakfast,”

His eyes follow you as you take a seat down at the table he had prepared for this morning, then focus back on the breakfast at hand. You pour out some orange juice Zemo had left on the table, then your gaze flickers back to him as he finishes cooking. He stacks the pancakes onto two plates and grabs some sugar, maple syrup, and lemons out of the shelves, giving you a choice of toppings.

You scoff as he turns around, seeing on the apron he had tied around himself the words ‘kiss the chef’ on it.

“Really?” you ask, raising the glass to your lips as you watch him glance down to his apron and then back up to you offended.

“You don’t like?”

“It’s embarrassing to look at!” you exclaim as he places the plates down on the table and sits down opposite you.

Zemo’s eyebrows twitch as he scoffs back at you, “I think it suits me, plus a kiss is expected after I worked so hard on breakfast” he says, tapping his cheek with his finger.

You raise an eyebrow, letting a breath out as you laugh, “Yeah, in your dreams,”

You two settle into a comfortable silence as you readily eat the breakfast he made. The pancakes were soft but delicious, sickeningly sweet but you have always had a sweet tooth and so it seems, does Zemo.

“I thought you would have one of your staff make breakfast, you never struck me as the person to do something yourself when you can make others do it,” you say breaking the silence as you finish the last of your pancakes.

Zemo glances up to you, tilting his head, “Why do you think that? Because I grew up rich?”

You nod, not attempting to make yourself sound nicer, “Yes. It’s common knowledge the rich are always spoilt”

His lips twitch up into a smile at your bluntness. He sighs, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs as he addresses you.

“You’re right. Even though Sokovia was a rather small country, I grew up with more riches than most people could dream of. But at least I acknowledge my privilege. That counts for something, doesn’t it?”

“Depending on what you use your privilege for. Blowing up the UN isn’t exactly putting it to good use now stop avoiding my original question,”

Zemo bites the inside of his mouth as you see through his attempts at trying to dodge the question. His admiration for you however outweighed any annoyance he might have felt at being called out for it. Leaning forward again to rest his arms on the table he says,

“It’s only me, you and my Butler who occasionally comes in. After I was arrested, there was no work for my staff so they all left and I can’t exactly hire anyone else,”

You nod, satisfied, then dab the napkin that Zemo has set out beside you, on your lips to get rid of any leftover sugar. You place your hands on the table and push yourself up from it.

“Well, thank you for breakfast, and thank you for looking after me this last week… that was nice of you, but I better be going. Do you know where my phone is?”

Zemo’s eyes furrow and he immediately stands up as you walk away from the table. He rushes past you, stepping in front of you to stop you from walking.

“You can’t leave y/n,”

Your head jilts back in confusion, “Why not?”

“We ruined Karli’s plans, so she is trying to find us. That’s why Sam and James are out hiding and why we must remain here,”

“I can handle Karli,” you tell Zemo, trying to step past him, but his hand reaches out and grasps your arm firmly.

“Not a super-soldier y/n. It’s too dangerous, especially after your recovery. James and Sam will reach out to me once it is clear to leave, but for now, we stay.”

You huff in frustration, shaking Zemo’s hand off your arm as you cross them. “Well, at least get me a phone so I can keep in contact with them too,”

“I’m afraid I can’t get you a phone currently, but you are welcomed to use mine. Alas, James and Sam have my number but I don’t have theirs’s so unless you remember their numbers we have to wait till they message first to reach out to them,”

You let out a melodramatic sigh, rolling your head looking to the side of the room then back to Zemo.

“So what the hell am I to do to keep occupied?”

Zemo tilts his head, his eyes flicker to the side in thought as he opens his mouth wordlessly and his eyes move back to yours, his eyebrows raising as he frowns thinking over the idea that has just entered his head.

-

With his fingers, Zemo, gazing at you eagerly, beckoned you down the corridor, towards a giant door that was at the end.

“I’m not a dog Zemo” you complain as you follow him

“Have you ever heard of dramatic effect?”

Zemo had taken off his apron and replaced it with that coat he loved to wear so much. You firmly believed it gave him a power complex. He strutted to the end of the hallway and placed his hands on the door. His face turns to you smirking, enjoying this dramatic pause as you roll your eyes at him. He pushes the door open and stands to the side, sweeping his arm across the space to let you in.

You walk past him and your eyes widen in amazement as you walk into the most magnificent library you had ever seen. The room itself stretched out almost further than you could see, seeming to go on and on. The shelves looked like they reached up to the sky, each one stacked with thousands of beautiful hardback books. The design of it looked like you had just stepped into heaven, with white and gold being the main colour scheme. On the ceiling was a painted sky with the gods on, looking down at you. On the pillars separating the shelves were little cherubs, their bows positioned to pierce your heart. Everything about this library was beautiful. It felt like a library that should belong to a museum not kept in this private mansion.

“You see why the dramatic effect was necessary?” Zemo says stepping up beside you, looking out at the shelves before you.

“Zemo this is… this is beautiful,”

His eyes flicker to you then back to the library, a smile appearing on his lips, “Yes, I suppose it is. When I was younger, I had always taken things like this for granted, but after my time in prison I believe it’s made me more humble,”

You walk over to the nearest bookshelf, letting your fingers brush over the colourful hardbacks. You pull one book out, stroking the golden platted side. “You must have every practically every book in existence here”

“I have more books than I could ever get round to reading. You can find anything you want to read here,”

After ten minutes you had gathered a rather sizable book pile you were determined to read, full of fictional and non-fictional books, some of your favorites and some you had never read before.

Zemo chuckled as you tried to hold all of them in your grasp. As you picked one up, the book on the very top of your pile slipped and fell to the floor. Panic surged in you, worried you would damage something so expensive, but Zemo’s hand appears and catches it before it could hit the ground.

Straightening up, he gave you an amused smile, “Maybe you should let me help carry them”

Accepting his help, he takes half the book pile off you and guides you over to a place deep in the library where you two could read. There were two light green armchairs facing each other, with a fireplace just behind them. To the side of the chairs were small tables which contained bookmarks, a goblet, and an ashtray, and to the side of one chair was a globe which could be opened, and inside it held a decanter full of whiskey.

Zemo places the books in his arms on the table then walks over to one shelf, browsing till he finally finds the book he was looking for. He returns to find you getting comfortable in your chair, opening the first book.

“Whisky?” he asks, opening up the globe beside him.

A few days ago you would have said ‘no, no way,’ but today you smile and nod your head, reaching out with the glass beside you to gracefully accept the drink.

-

The next couple of days were spent similarly with you and Zemo spending much of your time reading in the library together. Occasionally you two would even read to each other as he had first done with you when you had woken up here. Though you would never admit it to him, his smokey voice made you very comfortable. If he tried, he could lull you to sleep with that accent of his.

You couldn’t help but try to separate the Zemo you know now as the one you used to hate. Yes, he had torn apart your family, but he had all the reason for what happened to Sokovia, what happened to his family. Plus, this Zemo seemed to try hard to make it up to you. Almost too hard. He was trying everything to keep you entertained while you were stuck here, make your life as comfortable as he could. It was nice.

You strolled into the kitchen hearing the quiet buzz of the radio playing the latest top hits and the sound of someone humming along to the music. In there you find Zemo by the counter, fixated on the bowl he held in his arm and the spoon in his hand as he delicately tries to put the mixture into the cupcake trays before him. You had offered to make food, feeling like he always did too much for you but every day he insisted he would, even on days where it Butler would come around.

“Need help?” you ask, walking over to stand beside him.

He glances at you, then back to the tray he has laid out before him. “I’ve got a handle on this,” he replies just as he spills some mixtures onto the counter, making him swear under his breath.

“Uh-huh, sure,” you say, looking down at the spilled mixture. You turn to face him, letting out a chuff as you place a hand on his arm, “Zemo stop being so prideful and let me help”

As soon as your hand comes in contact with his arm, he freezes. He glances down at the ground, swallowing then his eyes flicker to yours and he smiles gently, his usual arrogance disappearing. “Okay,”

You grab a spoon from the draw and help Zemo scrap off what he puts into his spoon into the cake tray with accuracy. You two stand together, your shoulders brushing up against each other till you finish and put it into the oven.

“We have 30 minutes until we need to get them out. Why don’t you read for a bit while I clean up,”

“I can help clean up,” You tell him already going over to the sink to turn the water on, “You’re not my servant Zemo,”

“Helmut” he suddenly says

You turn back to look at him, confused at the seriousness of his face, “Please y/n, call me Helmut,”

Your mouth moves wordlessly for a moment, then you say, “Helmut,” trying the name out on your tongue. You were so used to calling him Zemo, you had forgotten that that wasn’t his first name.

“Thank you” he whispers, glancing away from you bashfully.

He takes a towel off the side of the rail and dries up everything you washed as you two settled into a peculiar silence.

Attempting to liven the atmosphere again, you put a cup just at the right angle of the running tap that the water splashed into Zemo’s coat. He steps back shocked, glancing down at his coat then back to you. He lets out a laugh, his mouth open in surprise that you would do that. “Oh, if that is how it is”

Zemo quickly grabs a mug, running it under the following water. Realizing what he was going to do you let out a squeal and rush for the door but you don’t get far enough till you feel the water hit your back, soaking your t-shirt.

“Helmut!” you gasp as he chuckles at you. You run forward to grab the nearest thing in front of you to chuck it at him, a piece of bread in this case but he ducks as it flies over him. He fills the cup up again and runs towards you but you get to the table and hide on the other side till you were both poised opposite each other waiting for one of you to make the first move.

“This isn’t fair!” you whine, feeling the coldness of your t-shirt cling to your back. “Who said anything about fairness!” Zemo shouted back, grinning at you.

Eventually, you two called a truce when the oven chimes letting you two know the cupcakes were finished baking. After that day, Zemo always asked if you wanted to help him make meals.

-

“Is the popcorn ready?” you shout as you jump up from the floor where you were placing the DVD into the DVD player.

“Almost done” Zemo calls out.

While waiting, you settle yourself down on the middle of the red sofa, twisting your back to get that perfect spot as you stared up at the giant screen in front of you.

Zemo emerges from the kitchen holding the popcorn and places the bowl onto the table in front of you. He settles down beside you, instantly positioning his arms on the top of the sofa, resting behind your head.

He leans forward to pick up some of the popcorn, tossing it in his mouth as he asks you what you have chosen to watch tonight.

“Beauty and the Beast,” you say excitingly and Zemo coughs, leaning forward as he accidentally inhaled the popcorn in his mouth.

He wipes the tear from his eye as he leans back and you give him a confused look, “Do you not like the film?”

“No-no, it’s not that. W-why do you want to watch the film?”

“It’s my favorite Disney film,”

He nods his head slightly looking down at the popcorn, “I see…” he then glances back to you, looking you in the eyes, “Why is it your favorite Disney film?”

You lean back sighing as you think the movie over, “Well, I’ve loved it since I was a kid. I always wanted to be like Bell and I found the beast so sweet and gentle”

“Even though he imprisoned her?”

“He let her go in the end, and she came back to him”

Zemo opened his mouth wanting to say more, but you sushed him as the movie started, wanting to concentrate only on it.

Zemo turned down the lights to make the experience feel as cinematic as he could of you. Grabbing the bowel he offered you some of the popcorn and you smiled at him in thanks. He tried to enjoy the movie, but his eyes kept wandering back to you, watching your expressions as you watched the movie. His heart skipped a beat every time you laughed at it when that gorgeous smile would grace your face, even in the sad moments where it looked like you were about to cry. He loved seeing how you reacted to everything. There were so many things he had taken for granted, and it felt like he was discovering them all over again with you. It fascinated him to find out the beauty and the beast was your favorite film. It was almost ironic given your current situation, one of which you remained painfully unaware of. He knew he couldn’t keep you in the dark forever. Sam and James were bound to discover where you two were eventually, which is why he wanted to enjoy every moment he had with you to the fullest before it was over.

As the movie went on, Zemo could feel your body moving closer and closer to him. The heat that radiated from your body made him want to wrap his arms around you, but he didn’t know if that would go too far. Roughly by the end of the movie, your head rested against his chest, moving slightly up and down as he breathed. He could tell by your shallow breathing you had entered the realm of dreams.

Looking down at you, he couldn’t help but admire how peaceful you looked. When on the mission with Sam and James you had always appeared tense, prepared to fight your way out of a situation as soon as possible, but at this moment you were relaxed and it made his heart flutter. He could look at you forever like this and never tire of it.

He had found himself in the past comparing you to his wife. He felt conflicted feeling this way about another woman, but how he felt about you differed from how he felt about his wife. It was new, exciting, addicting. Slowly raising his hand, he brushes a piece of hair that had fallen over your face while you slept. Your skin was smooth against his fingers and so soft. His fingers lingered on your skin before finally, he let his arm rest around your body, holding you close as you slept against his chest.

-

Your arms were raised, feeling the walls on either side of you as you tried to figure out if you were going and if you were about to bump into anything while Zemo’s hands were clasped around your eyes tightly.

“Don’t you trust me y/n” he whispers in your year, snickering.

“Do you want a pleasant lie or the harsh truth?” you ask, turning your head slightly but Zemo tuts and moves your head back with his hands

“Not long now, just a few more steps,”

“Till what!” you whine

“Be patient y/n!”

Zemo lifts one hand of your eyes telling you to keep them close and you hear the creak of a door open ahead of you. His hand returns to your face and with slightly pushing his body against yours, he urges you forward into this new room.

“Can I finally look now?”

Zemo removes his hands and steps back from you, “Okay y/n, open your eyes”

Opening them you gasped in shock seeing what was before you. On a stand was a replica of Belle’s dress in Beauty and the Beast. Its honey yellow colour shone out, the top of it tightly clung to the mannequin it was on while the bottom poofed out, it hung with no shoulder straps and came with yellow gloves. Everything about it was perfect.

“Helmut I- I’m, stunned,”

“You like it?” he asks anxiously

You turn to him grinning, “Of course I do!”

You hug him tightly, ecstatic, then rushed over to the dress, brushing your fingers along it. “It’s beautiful” you whisper.

“I think I got the sizes right,” Zemo says coming up beside you, a pink tinge to his cheeks, “There’s only one way to know for you,” he adds on, turning to you giving you a gentle smile

He helps you take the dress off and chuckles as he watches you rush off with it to get changed, then leaves to get changed himself.

The dress fitted perfectly on you. Everything from the bust down to the waist. Even the gloves fitted perfectly. When you entered the bathroom, you found Zemo had even found some make-up in case you wanted to use any. He thought of everything.

Finally looking at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face. You truly felt like a Disney princess. Slowly you walked back down the stairs and enter the room Zemo had to lead you in, to begin with. As you walked in, let out a merry laugh as you saw Zemo, dressed up in a blue jacket, embroidered with yellow roses on the sleeves, just like the beast. He was standing by a record player, putting a disk in as you walked in. He turns to look at you, his mouth opening in wonder.

“Y/n… you look glorious,”

His sincere comment makes your cheeks heat up and you hold your arms out to him, squeezing your hands letting him know you want to hold his hands.

He turns the record on and your favorite song from Beauty and the Beast floats out, making your cells light up with excitement.

“Helmut” you start to say as he walks over to you, holding his hand out, “Why are you doing this?”

He gently takes your gloved hand, bending over to kiss it. “I know it isn’t easy being stuck in here all the time and you said you loved ‘Beauty and the Beast’ so I thought it would make a pleasant treat,”

His arms hesitantly touch your waist as he looks into your eyes as if asking it was okay. You nod and step closer to him, taking his hand in yours holding it up. Getting into the waltz position you two start to move along the dance floor, swaying to the music.

You two slide along the ballroom floor, picking up speed. As you look up to him, he breathes out smiling back down at you happily. His hand on his waist spins your around as your dress flutters out. You squeal in delight as you grasp back onto his hand as you felt dizzy.

You two turn around the floor looking each other deep in the eyes. You could feel his breath on your face as you two were barely inches apart from each other. Zemo pulls you in even closer as your arm goes around his neck, your body pulled into his. He dips you as you cling to him tightly for dear life as the music fades.

He holds you into that position, panting as he looks at you, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. You could feel that pull towards him, your eyes starting to flutter shut. He leans towards you but suddenly you feel your fingers slip and you almost let go of him. His other hand quickly wraps around making sure you don’t fall to the floor.

He helps you back on your feet and you two steps apart. You look away feeling your cheeks burn up again.

“Helmut, thank you. Thank you so much” you tell him earnestly

He looks deep into your eyes, smiling in bliss, “Anything for you y/n”

-

“Y/n, are you awake?”

You groan as you hear Zemo whisper beside you, waking you from your sleep.

“Ugh, Helmut what time is it,” you moan turning over with your eyes are closed.

“It’s 8, time to wake up”

“Nooooo” you whine screwing up your eyelids.

You hear him chuckle and then you feel something push against your lips. You open your eyes confused to see Zemo beside you, holding a strawberry to your lips.

You smile and take a bite out of it, moaning in delight as you taste its sweetness as you sit up. He sits up beside you and holds out some melted chocolate for you to dip the strawberry in.

“Helmut, you spoil me”

“Not enough,” he whispers back as he puts the chocolate-covered strawberry to your lips letting you take another bite.

“I’m not even surprised anymore to see you in my bed when I wake up,” you tell him

“Technically this is my bed”

“You know what I mean!”

He chuckles as he pushes his head back into the headboard, “I thought it would be a nice way for you to wake up,”

“Consider me impressed,” you tell him, looking over at him smiling. He glances back to you, his lips twitching up. You lean into his side, not caring at the moment you were in a simple nightdress. You close your eyes inhaling his cologne and picking up a strawberry to feed to him.

“I could get used to this,” you whisper to him

-

You scan the piano music book before looking back down to the notes before you. It had been a while since you had last played so you thought you might as well pick it up while you were stuck in Zemo’s mansion.

You press the notes but every time you tried to play one of the chords you always missed one. You were trying to play your favorite song 'Comptine d'un autre été' but to no avail.

“You need to flow with the music and not worry about hitting the right notes”

You turn around and smile as you see Zemo approach you from behind. “Isn’t the whole point of music to play the right notes?” you say sarcastically

Zemo lets out a huff chuckling, “Well yes but you’ll hit the notes when you stop trying so hard. Now try again”

You turn back around and attempt the music again but hit the wrong notes making you slam the piano in annoyance.

“Don’t damage the piano”

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, “I should give up,”

“No don’t do that” Zemo says, brushing his fingers over your waist, “Here let me help you”

He puts his hands on top of yours guiding them, “Let’s try again,”

You look to the music then back down to your hands which had Zemo’s resting on and attempt to start playing again. His hands moved in time with yours as they guided along with the piano, pressing down on your fingers when you needed to. You got every note. Well, Zemo got every note.

“See, easy,” he says as he pulls back from you. “Now try again”

You attempt to play again but feeling his eyes stare into your back you couldn’t concentrate and messed up the notes again.

“We just went through this!”

“It’s hard to concentrate with you staring at me!” you exclaim turning around to him. Your eyes widen as what you just said as he tilts his head, a smug smile appearing on his lips.

“Oh, I make it hard for you to concentrate do I?”

You groan at his cockiness, looking away from him so he doesn’t see your glistening red cheeks.

He walks up behind you again, his fingers grazing your jawline, stopping at your chin as he raises your head to look up at him. Seeing him look down at you made a knot in your stomach tighten.

“You are awfully red y/n”

“Shut up”

He chuckles and leans down, placing a kiss on your forehead, “I like it when you blush”

The breath gets caught in your lungs as you feel his lips on your forehead, their softness cooling your burning skin.

For the first time in your life, you were rendered speechless, by Helmut Zemo no less.

His teeth flash in his smile as he looks down at you, “Come let’s practice this again” he says, leaning over as his back pressed into yours, putting his hands back on top of yours.

-

“Zemo do you mind if I borrow your phone briefly to see if that new video has been released?” you call out picking up Zemo’s phone that he had left on your seat.

“Go ahead! Just don’t check anything else on there” he yells back

“Worried I will find your nudes?” you call out as you unlock the phone. Pressing onto the youtube app you sigh in annoyance seeing no new video and so you were about to put the phone back down when a message appeared from a contact simply labeled ‘S’

It read, ‘S: Look just tell us where you have taken her. Whatever you are doing with her it isn’t worth it”

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at what the hell could that message mean. You click onto the message stream just to see a ton of messages from this ‘S’ contact but with no reply from Zemo.

You hesitate for a moment, knowing Zemo wouldn’t want you to do what you were about to do, but your curiosity got the best of you and you pressed the call button.

It rang for a few seconds and then the line picked up.

“Zemo” Sam’s voice rang out through the phone

“Sam?” you ask back

“W-what, YN/!? Are you okay? Where are you?”

“Woah Woah Sam, calm down, I’m fine! I’m with Helmut-Sam what is going on?”

“What has he done to you?”

“What do you mean he's done nothing, Sam I thought me and Helmut were hiding out here till Karli was done with her plan?”

You hear a sigh down the phone and then the muffled voices of what you could make out as Bucky and Sharon down the line.

Sam picked the phone back up and spoke directly, “Y/n you need to get out of there now. Zemo, he's kidnapped you”

The phone slips from your hand and lands on the floor with a loud crash.

Tag list: @sinister-sleep @cable-kenobi @faustlyaccused @chipster-21 @icarusinstatic @yallgotkik @montypythonsholysnail @bunniwritesx @checkurwindow @huntheimpossible @jayxkelsi @avgravy @prestigious-tea @aloyssiac @hannahbal-the-fannibal @alainabooks143 @jokerprettyprincess @plumsandkiwis @latenightartist-author @e-barba @flutterskies @loonylunalovegood77 @lieutenantn @wonderwoman292 @there-goes-thefighter @multiyfandomgirl40 @freyjasamael @ineffablebean @arianalilyblack @mandowhatnow @scullys-alienpussy @felicityofbakerstreet @babayaga67 @spookycereal-s

[hollandsmushroom]

Ok… Hear me out. Could you write something where the reader and Tom have opted, like their relationship, to keep their baby’s life private and away from social media? The paparazzi has only ever caught partial moments, like the reader and Tom on a walk with the babe strapped to his chest, or the bub in their car seat while the reader and Tom are at lunch. Long story short, when Tom is doing press for the new Spider-man movie, the interviewer asks about his baby, and he can’t stop himself from sharing a really sweet moment from before he left, and then Zendaya and Jacob chime in about their encounters with the newborn. Thank you, Xx.

When you and Tom had found out that you were pregnant you decided to keep it discreet, maintaining the personal aspects of your life in private, much like you always had with the rest of your relationship.

It wasn't that you had tried to hide your pregnancy, just not really talking about it, but you never shied away from tight fitting clothes, the speculation coming to an eventual affirmative conclusion that you and Tom were in-fact expecting a child.

When you had given birth, no announcement was needed, not that you really wanted to announce it, still feeling as though this was the most personal aspect of your life and you wanted to keep it that way. The tabloids filled with images of you and Tom buckling your bub into their car seat as you cooed over them, or feeding the baby in the restaurant high chair, and your world kind of imploded, not in a bad way though, people were much nicer than you expected them to be, easing your mind to sharing a little more of your life with the world.

When it came time for the Spider-Man No Way Home press junket you and Tom had sat down before and talked. Discussing what you were and weren't comfortable sharing about your life, especially when it came to the smallest and newest member of your close knit family. You both concluded that you were okay with some details being shared as long as it was not the main focus.

So there Tom sat, in the uncomfortable plastic chair with Jacob and Zendayaon either side of him, the questions intriguing but all he could think about was his baby, this being the longest he had ever been from his bub and he didn’t like it, it was wearing on him and his attitude, so when the interviewer brought his baby up he couldn’t hold himself back.

“So Tom, the world has heard that you recently bought a new person on earth” the interviewer spoke, catching Tom’s attention

“Well I didn’t do the work, that honor goes to my partner Y/n” Tom smiled softly, thinking of you but his reverie was interrupted by Jacob and Daya’s giggles.

“Yeah, but you would have thought that he was pregnant. He was so moody the whole time” Jacob laughed.

“Oh my god, all he could do was research about babies and worry if Y/n was okay and if all their symptoms were normal, I once had to yell at him to make him stop talking about mucosal plugs” Daya laughed, hitting her knee with her hand as she shook, Tom turning red.

“Moving on” Tom interrupted before any more embarrassing stories could be shared by his castmates. “Yeah, we recently had a kid, it’s been amazing and I don’t think I have ever felt more fulfilled, like the day I got married I thought that would always be the best day of my life but then I held my baby for the first time and literally nothing will ever top that. Don’t get me wrong, I love Y/n with my whole heart but it's different, obviously but it’s this overwhelming need to protect and cherish”

“Yeah, he is very protective over his little baby. One time I was literally just tossing a ball up and down near the stroller and he snatched the ball out of the air and looked at me as if I was trying to kill them” Jacob said, making Tom cringe slightly.

“I wasn’t going to let you hit my baby with a ball!”

“I wasn’t even that near your baby!” Jacob exclaimed back at Tom only making Tom glare at him.

“In all seriousness, Tom is a great dad! He just loves his baby more than anything in the whole world, he would die for his baby in a second, don’t test him, he is a really good dad and that baby is gonna be so freaking loved” Zendaya gushed, elbowing Tom in the side as he smiled bashfully.

[cruelfeline]

Some time last week, some of us were chatting about Hordak's character development, and how much of it is less apparent than, say, Catra's. Or Adora's. Given that he's not a main character (is he even a secondary? I wonder...), this isn't necessarily surprising: the show simply doesn't focus enough on him to give him front-and-center scenes. He doesn't get the moments of clear introspection we see with our mains.

That doesn't, however, mean that there's no development at all. Rather, it means that a lot of Hordak's motivations and thought processes end up conveyed in more subtle ways, often requiring a bit of dedicated assessment from the viewer. Essentially: very rarely does the show clearly state what Hordak is feeling, but with some attention to detail, one can, I think, fairly accurately deduce it.

There are plenty of scenes one can assess in this fashion, but I'm going to focus on a specific one because it's a great example of how much detail can be packed into some scenery and a couple of lines.

That scene is the one involving him and Catra at the beginning of season four.

We open with a pan through Hordak's sanctum, with special attention being drawn to the fact that everything is an absolute mess. Cables are torn and sparking. Heavy machinery lays strewn about in various states of disrepair.

Vitrines that were shattered during the portal incident haven't even been drained, let alone repaired. The scene uses Catra to highlight the abnormality of this: she clearly sees the destruction around her and appears confused, unsettled, by it. Her expression and general demeanor inform us that something is wrong.

Furthermore, she is able to enter the sanctum without any sort of invitation, preamble, or indeed, without even announcing herself. Which is odd, isn't it? It's certainly not the sort of behavior we've seen from her before, and it's not the sort of thing that we've seen Hordak allow before. Previously, Catra has always been nervous when entering Hordak's territory. Or she's been summoned. This time, she appears to be neither.

Furthermore, she calls him "Hordak." Rather than Lord.

We now move to Hordak himself. Whereas we've always seen Hordak doing something in his sanctum - be it technical work or interacting with Entrapta or what-have-you - we come upon him doing all of nothing. Actually, we come upon him sitting, which is also... odd, isn't it? We've seen him sit on his throne, sure, but there's always been a sort of performative aspect to that. He sits on his throne, commanding respect, being "Lord Hordak." He doesn't really look like "Lord Hordak" here, does he?

We've also seen him sit after his syncopal episode, but that's not what's happening here, either.

Rather, Hordak is just... idle. Seated almost casually. Or, rather, seated without seeming to care what he looks like, or what is going on around him. He's not actively working on anything. He's not tending to the ungodly mess around him. He's just doing nothing. Which, if one thinks about it, we've never actually seen before.

Now we commence dialogue. Catra immediately focuses on aspects of the situation that are pertinent to the Horde's supposed goal: conquering Etheria. She points out the absence of Angella, which is an important thing! Strategically crucial, in fact. She focuses on the advantage the Horde now has, pointing out that the Rebellion is in disarray without its leader, and Hordak...

Hordak entirely ignores this all-important advantage (and indulges in an outburst of rage at "Entrapta") and focuses instead on one solitary thing: keeping Princesses out of the Fright Zone.

Which. That's important, sure, but it's also ignoring an incredible strategic opportunity: a bizarre error for someone whose chief goal is, supposedly, taking over Etheria. It's especially bizarre when one takes into account the fact that, having just lost their leader and thus being in disarray, it's fairly unlikely that any Princesses are going to attempt to breach the Fright Zone anytime soon. So... what gives?

The show doesn't specifically say it. It doesn't give Hordak a private monologuing scene, or even have any other character verbally point it out, but by noting all of the components of this scene, one can recognize that Hordak is, to put it plainly, depressed.

Hordak, a normally ordered, fastidious character, has been ignoring the utter wreckage of his home for the better part of a few months. He does not appear to care about the usual hierarchy he once so emphatically insisted upon, not reacting to Catra's informal way of meeting with and speaking to him.

Even though he is supposed to be hell-bent on conquering Etheria, he is completely idle. Furthermore, he totally disregards a glaring strategic opportunity and instead gives us an indicator of what is actually important to him: another Princess breaching the Fright Zone.

Another Princess entering his life, getting close to him, and hurting him. As Entrapta supposedly did.

This is the sort of scene that gives us indicators of what is going on in Hordak's inner world without necessitating that the show dedicate specific time to directly addressing it. Instead, we get alterations in background and behavior that, when assessed and compared to what we already know about Hordak, indicate a shift in his mental and emotional states.

But that's the thing: one has to pay attention. One has to notice that the sanctum is still a disaster, and one has to realize that this is abnormal. One has to note that Catra is no longer behaving the way she used to while approaching Hordak. One has to recognize that Hordak himself is idle in a way we have never seen. And one has to take care to not only see that Hordak doesn't respond to war-related strategic openings, but also identify what he does respond to.

One has to see these things and ask: Why is the sanctum still a mess? Why isn't Hordak working? Why isn't he attacking when the Rebellion is in disarray? Why?

By doing all of that, one can assess that there is not just anger at a territory breach and supposed betrayal here; if that was the case, then I doubt that moping among broken machinery would be the result. Rather, there is distress and pain bad enough that Hordak has fallen out of normal behavior and... well, essentially broken down.

Now, if one doesn't take the time to assess this scene and appreciate the interplay of environment and character behavior, then the fact that Hordak is depressed might not be apparent. Rather, one might see only the most obvious, loud thing - his angry outburst - and judge him an angry jerk; no more, no less.

Take a closer look, however, and one can see the confused, hurt individual that he actually is after the portal incident.

But: one has to look.

[lightsovermonaco]

His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit​ for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.” 

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head. 

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote.  He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background. 

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument. 

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little." 

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time. 

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him. 

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including ��underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.  

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine. 

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal. 

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows. 

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy." 

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul. 

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly.  "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing. 

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal. 

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

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[reverielix]

Bang chan as a boyfriend based on his chart?

Sure ;)))

Let’s get straight into it!💭

I’ve been wanting to talk about his interceptions/duplications for some time, and now it finally fits haha!!😊 His Venus is intercepted and...let’s say that his chart (+ Saturn singleton and other aspects) poses some obstacles for romantic relationships, and suggests a personal transition/journey he has to go through in order to even allow himself to experience romantic love and affection....🤭

Scorpio is intercepted in the 6th house in his chart while Taurus is intercepted in the 12th house. Capricorn makes up for it and rules both the 8th and 9th house as Cancer rules both the 2nd and 3rd house. So what does that mean?

First of all, the qualities associated with Scorpio and Taurus are hard for him to access as they weren’t taught or understood at an early age. This can further suggest that he experienced a lack of love and tenderness, while receiving criticism, (Saturn singleton, 6th house stellium, Chiron in the 6th makes him extremely sensitive to criticism, he started young as a trainee and went through monthly evaluations and such for 7 years!) which probably influenced his self-perception, as he already has low self-esteem and lots of self-doubt implied in his interception, which suggests a need for validation and extra-love, though he was given the opposite. Moreover, he could’ve had issues forming an opinion and sticking to it (supported by his Libra placements), fully devoting himself in a relationship (any type, Mars conjunct 7th house) and leaving his comfort zone. Lack of privacy, fear of loss and struggles regarding finances/recourses may have also occurred in his life. These aspects in regard to the 6th and 12th houses hint at an unstable and insecure environment as a result of lacking routine (e.g. going to sleep at odd hours with Pisces and Virgo here) and giving into bad habits. Something generally big in his chart is his insecurity and deceiving perception of himself as well as his ways of coping (intercepted Taurus, Saturn singleton, Virgo Chiron,... surpresses/ignores feelings or ignores them). He may use his self-doubt and criticism from both others and himself as a “fuel” for his determination and work-ethic to try and prove others and a part of himself wrong. Although one might argue that using negativity to grow from it is benificial, he harms himself subconsciously by having that mindset, since when a) he fails, like all of us do sometimes, he will fall into a pit of self-hatred or b) he achieved a goal, but after it, he’ll still be unsatisfied and want more. It always ends back where he started; craving for UNCONDITIONAL love, but he won’t give himself that type of love (unconditional love can also be associated with Neptune, which is in retrograde in his chart, and can contribute to hyper-awareness of his own wrongs). The love he gives himself is conditional and situational, which he adapted from all the lack of love and criticism and makes him feel like he will never be enough. A big lesson he has to learn is that his work/success doesn’t define him, and he is enough without his awards and wins. He’s an amazing person just being himself, and once he realizes that he deserves unconditional love, he will also be a step further to allow love to come his way. (You can’t come from a place of hatred and expect love to come out at the end!)

In terms of his Venus and his 7th house conjunctions, I can see how he craves love deeply and intensely, he craves privacy and validation, though with intercepted planets the individual isn’t allowed or suppresses a core-part of their personality. In Chan’s case, he suppresses his longing for romantic love and relationships as he is taught to focus on his work (he channels all his energy through his Saturn singleton, work is existential to him) rather than his need for affection, because “I don’t deserve love anyway” (conditional self-love, damaged awareness of self-worth). He perhaps doesn’t consciously know who he is looking for, but craves stability, (a routine to help him feel comfortable, as he values that with his Cancer and Capricorn duplications, but we’ll get to that later) sensuality, validation, appreciation, inspiration, acceptance and most importantly: love! In terms of Taurus here, which is intercepted and is ruled by Venus, I can see how a big life lesson is to value and appreciate his materialistic possessions and achievements that originated from hard work. He needs to learn how to feel appreciative of his past efforts and learn to feel satisfied with himself and his past efforts as well as allow himself to rest.

His Saturn singleton in conjunction with what I’ve discussed previously briefly points out; he channels his entire energy though his work, through restrictions, through his reputation and his ambition. (This Placement fits perfectly with him being on stage. He performs with such purpose, with such determination and devotion by using his body (Aries), and most importantly with his group (11th house).) The Pluto Mars conjunction also hints at Chan being a very devoted individual, who can get engulfed in his task and even isolate himself when doing something he’s passionate about. His Saturn is also in retrograde, which internalizes this placement and makes him very conscious about his success, reputation and overall misery and hardship that he wants to (perhaps aggressively or boldly) take action on and improve all the time. He fears letting people down and wants to live up to their expectations, while often letting himself down in the process, which feeds into his conditional self-love and lack of self-acceptance. He sets limits for himself, when actually, he wants to be free, because he lives in fear of not being enough and fulfilling people’s expectations of him as he wants to have a good reputation and success, be better than all the authority figures with criticizing eyes he’s been exposed to all his life. A contradiction within himself here is that he doesn’t want people to tell him what to do, he doesn’t like being pushed around and wants to be his own boss, but as soon as somebody expects something of him or questions his authority, he wants to prove them wrong and so does what they want. He is a pushover, in a way, but is consciously very resistant toward rules and boundaries other authority figures set for him to follow. Additionally, valuing tradition and following a routine (6th house interception) can be hard for him (especially when it comes to sleep, 12th house). Further interpreting, his Sun (Libra, 5th house) is opposite his Saturn, which can indicate a gap in self-perception that I touched on in the previous paragraph, outlining his rather subconscious (12th house interception, so this part is more “hidden” from him, while the 12th house is already hard to access in the first place) way of self-destruction considering his way with doubt and criticism and how it will forever remain a spiral of negativity that results in no progress if he doesn’t understand he is deserving of UNconditional love). Additionally, he might believe he can only be loved when he performs well and succeeds, which is obviously not true, though it is a big life lesson for him to truly understand that, with his 12th house interception and his tendency to ignore his intuition/spirituality to listen to the logics (air signs and other). He can escape this spiral of negativity by learning this big lesson; he is worthy, he deserves love, he deserves privacy, he deserves care (from himself and others).

Ways to “unlock interceptions” and learn the previously mentioned life lessons are to look at the “directors” (the signs that rule the intercepted houses, so in Chan’s case it’s Libra and Aries), the duplications and take into consideration his intercepted Chiron. First, let’s look at his 6th house ruler: Libra. Libra ruling the 6th house is usually a sign of self-care in a physical sense and beauty and care in everyday routine, pets or a desire of taking care of one. Though, with his Saturn singleton in Aries (opposite Libra) I can see how he works too much and disregards his mental and physical health (12th house would be mental health here). A helpful way of dealing with this is arranging a routine in which he assembles self-care and private time (he had a lack of, which the interceptions point at) to feel instead of brushing his emotions off (12th house interception). He will feel lonely. He longs for love with his Pluto conjunction his descendant, he can even become obsessive about it and feel the need to be with somebody. But as long as he doesn’t understand he deserves UNconditional love from most importantly himself, he won’t be able to allow (healthy) love in his life and recognize when he isn’t being treated the right way, because he pushes others away and has no clarity of what he deserves. In this routine that I have previously mentioned, where he shall implement self-care and privacy, he needs to give himself time to feel and not push his emotions away anymore. And as he accepts his emotions and turmoil, this 12th house part that we all have (this part that Billie addresses in idontwannabeyouanymore), that is hurt and deals with all the things we brush off in a “call me what you wanna, ‘cause I’ve probably called me worse.” way (self-criticism with the Chiron in the 6th — as Chiron is also healing and the 6th house comes together with routine and stability, I can see how this fortifies my claim — and interceptions). When he lets himself feel, accepts his negative feelings and takes care of himself, he will learn to love ALL of him (also his “demon” and will learn to access his 12th house). Through all of this, he will trust himself and his intuition more, learn to use both his brain & heart — here I think it’s remarkable that Melanie has multiple Taurus placements and a Scorpio rising — as the line between reality and delusion isn’t blurry anymore. Listening to his intuition, he will start to feel comfortable with himself and the things and people around him. He will learn to surround himself with the things he feels comfortable with, and not only “should” (brain). This is a big desire: comfort. His Cancer/Capricorn duplications leave him longing for a home, though as long as he doesn’t feel at home with himself, he won’t feel at home anywhere (ties in with 2nd house Cancer and his self-esteem being ruled by the moon with a desire for comfort). And when he learned to love, accept and feel comfortable with himself, he will allow love into his life and not push anyone away anymore (he will learn that it doesn’t matter if he failed or not, if he worked hard enough or not: he deserves love and care like he gives it to others). This is how he could “unlock” his Venus, perhaps. Regarding his Neptune retrograde in the 9th; in conjunction with his 12th house being intercepted, he needs to learn to create a sleep pattern that is healthy and provides him with enough rest. This will then also strengthen his trust and intuition.

Also, his Pluto Mars conjunction conjunct his 7th can imply that whenever he experiences hurt or is left by somebody else, he can transition this pain and obstacle into power and drive, motivation with which he approaches new relationships. This ties in with the dominant role that Saturn plays in his life, as Saturn is essentially working hard through hurdles and misery to come out successful.

So, now that we’ve established that his chart is challenging in regards to his love life and really just anything, we can get into the actual thing haha

⇢ confession/beginning stages

His Libra Sun and Mercury in the 5th, Gemini rising and Aquarius mc can give him a very playful and airy first impression

He is generally attracted to mannerism, soft spokenness and gentleness, as he also likes showing these parts of himself to romance others haha

Would probably take it slow and not rush into relationships (would take a while to confess, he first has to relish in the feeling of having a crush lol)

He might want to introduce himself as the fun and flirty version of himself, though I feel like he’d be way less bold than Minho (he’s a shy Libra bean) — it doesn’t mean he’s “acting” or anything. That’s just as much him as is every other part of his chart.

I don’t think his Venus would shine through in the beginning (I’d be more his air signs taking the lead, talking away and vibing lol) He’d most likely keep it light and nice on the first date, show off his manners yk👀

His intercepted Venus stressed that it would take him a lot of work to let himself freely express his love language and refrain from bottling it up

But once he does let himself express his love freely, during his confession or an intimate moment, it would fizz all up

His confession may be very thought through and planned, though in the moment, he’d just improvise anyway and fizz up like a bottle of sparkling water under too much pressure from holding back everything

Heartfelt confessions are his specialty, though he’d probably get very emotional

Scorpio is already kind of a wild sea, waves hitting the stones, but that interception would just contribute to this inner tension and turmoil

Once he feels attraction toward somebody, it can be very intense, even scary at times

His confession would be the one of a young boy who feels love for the very first time, intense and emotional, maybe clumsy

Though he’d mean every word

He’s just such a loving and caring person,,,,I’m not crying you are because even astrology says he’s nurturing and lovely

⇢ overall behavior in relationship

I feel like this short fic describes it pretty well haha (I read it and immediately thought of his Scorpio Venus interception)

It could be scary for him to be in love with somebody and go past the first, flirty phase

He’d be very devoted and give his all in the relationship (like how Minho would)

Just with the exception that Minho is pretty aware of this part of himself and embraces it with confidence

Though Chan on the other hand would get to know himself in another light

His emotions would fizz up, as he’s held the desire for love back for way too long (his Libra placements and especially his Pluto descendant conjunction have been begging him) and he could perhaps find the intensity of his romantic feelings scary or shocking

His Pluto descendant conjunction gives him a transformative feature. He can be drawn to relationships in which power dynamics can become toxic, though he has the skill to take the pain and transform himself from a hurting to a more powerful person in control. This can be something to look out for when he hasn’t yet gone through the lesson of acceptance and love for himself as his little self-esteem can be abused by a partner with this placement (Also, his Taurus interception hints at a lack of self-worth and boundaries, just like his 12 and 6th house interceptions do, as he can have issues recognizing when something is happening to him that is not right and he doesn’t deserve). Pluto conjunct the descendant can also hint at a partnership in which both partners are very successful and work together toward wealth, success and a comfortable home. His Venus is intercepted and this aspect points at, amongst other things, an unknowingness when it comes to an ideal type or what someone looks for in relationships. The Pluto descendant conjunction and Venus placement suggest that he is subconsciously on the outlook for or especially attracted by somebody who he can work hard together with and is devoted to the relationship and him. He may end up with somebody very successful and wealthy, who transforms him deeply as this person can feel to him like they are too intense for words to describe them.

His Mars conjunct his Pluto and the descendant accentuates what I previously said as he tends to express his drive and motivation in one-to-one relationships, which can bring a passion and determination into a relationship. He tends to get swallowed up by what he does, oftentimes forgets time or a sense of when to stop when he’s especially motivated or passionate about something. In a relationship that could mean a great deal of loyalty and devotion as well as proactiveness when it comes to achieving shared goals and fulfilling shared desires.

His Venus is in a square aspect with his Neptune, which is in retrograde. As I have discussed before, he needs to give himself time to let himself feel. Here it is suggested that there can be a cloud where certain feelings lie. He has a hard time accessing his subconscious, dreams, spirituality and intuition (in conjunction with his 12th house and Neptune rx he, as he has also confirmed, doesn’t have a good relationship with sleep). He has difficulty with his feelings and recognizing, accepting and embracing them. He can be prone to deception and misjudgment (reality and delusion are blurred, as I said previously and also mentioned a way to “unlock” that). Here it’s possible he may choose a partner not right for him, somebody who deludes him into that tale of an intense and powerful bond as his Venus interception also suggests, as already mentioned; he doesn’t consciously know who he’s looking for. He simply craves love and a comfortable, successful future and tends to see that in people who are not for him. It may be hard for him to feel fulfilled if he doesn’t feel fulfilled with himself yet and also because of this deceptiveness he tends to have.

All these things, the 7th house, Pluto, Scorpio, Mars and the interceptions are very much rooted within him. Having watched this video (I would highly recommend you to check her channel out if you’re into astrology!) on shadows and blind spots in astrology, I realized that love and Chan’s attitude toward love is deeply rooted in him. It can be a sensitive topic and bring out blind spots, parts of himself that he doesn’t really know or want to except. He may push his s/o away for bringing out these deeply rooted and emotionally triggering as well as intense things and shining a light on these aspects he dislikes and rejects about himself. He can live in denial of his longing for love and behavior in love as well as his desires, and be protective over these things. This can express itself in engagement with toxic endeavors and relationships. A build-up of jelousy, rage, vengeance and other negative qualities associated with especially Scorpio can come into play. He may be in denial of them and hardly even be able to access these parts, though I feel like in relationships, these qualities are prone to explode in his chart, as he is also likely to bottle anger up and avoid conflict. Maybe he has a hard time staying with somebody, though he is a devoted lover, because he can’t address the problems rooted within himself and rather projects them onto others in one-to-one relationships. Again, though, when he lets himself feel all these negative feelings, all the hurt and aggression, he can transform into a very powerful person and change who he is on a deeper level. These placements, which are tightly conjunct with love and relationships, point at the most vulnerable and scariest parts of him. Confronting scary parts and being brave is the key here!

His Venus interception, if not resolved, (though even when it’s resolved, it won’t forever be gone,) poses obstacles in love style and overall behavior in specifically romantic relationships. He may be shy and tapping into the unknown as he can be clumsy and confused in love. Like a boy loving for the first time, he will have issues expressing his love in a way he feels like is true to himself or feels comfortable. He has difficulty accessing Scorpio qualities and since his Venus lies in Scorpio, I can see him also bursting sometimes. As in, one day he’s more cold and holds back and on another day he showers his s/o with all the love. He can be very intense in love, especially on these days where he just can’t hold back anymore, where this intensity fizzes up.

I think he’d run into a lot of problems finding somebody who is right for him, but once he’s figured it out, he will be such a devoted partner with a passion to proactively work on the relationship and shared goals and desires. He will work hard for the relationship, just like he does for everything, because after all, that’s how he expresses himself with his Saturn singleton; through work and dedication. Love can be life-changing for him. But emotional highs and lows can occur as he “transitions” and continues to grow. It can often be a deep transformation that can feel like death and rebirth. This is the thing I’ve talked about earlier: he is self-destructive (and can also project these denied things about himself onto others) as he tries holding things associated to Mars, Pluto, the 7th house and Scorpio in his chart back/in. The interception being “unlocked” doesn’t make it disappear though — he’ll still be struggling with it and find it hard to address his emotions, establish routine or take care of himself as he gets lost in his passion and work-ethic.

Lastly, we cannot forget that the 5th house, the Sun, the Moon and the 2nd house usually play a big role concerning love in the birth chart as well. Most of these placements reflect how he knows himself and identifies with certain traits. All the previous things I’ve discussed are things hidden and deeply-rooted in his persona that he can have difficulties recognizing and coping with. So let’s jump into the parts of himself that he’s more comfortable with and more aware of, which also implies a more direct and conscious expression of the following aspects. As I already said referring to the first stages; he approaches romance in a flirty, gentle, fun and romantic way. He may enjoy going on dates a lot, meeting new people, being open-minded and generally gets along with most. He just has an easy time with romance in general as he possesses a natural way with words, though shyly, and a characteristic ability to attract many. It could be that he sees it as a priority to keep the romance alive, so he will keep arranging dates and such all throughout the relationship. Somebody with Libra placements or traits can make him feel special and admired, understood even. He can be a good advisor, great at giving compliments or a “therapist figure” to his partner, and is generally very giving. Good for him would be somebody who gives him validation, reminds him of his self-worth, respects his personal space and creates an environment of privacy and intimacy that’s in a way secret and visatable to only him and his s/o. Somebody who provides comfort, care and affection. (Something else would be conditional love. He could base love off of fairness and imply conditions, which both his Libra placements and his Neptune rx suggest, as Neptune can represent unconditional love and the “merging” of two souls. His Venus in the 6th can also suggest high expectations that hold him back from forgiving his partner’s mistakes and flaws as he could hold a grudge or hold these mistakes against his partner in future affairs.) He may also show his affection in a more practical way with gifts, acts of service and touch.

⇢ dates

I can see him being pretty spontaneous haha. Sagittarius is on the cusp of the 7th house and his Pluto and Mars, which are conjunct his 7th, are also in Sagittarius, so he may enjoy little trips into other cultures with his partner to relax a bit from work. Also, let’s not forget, he has his Sun and Mercury in his 5th and many personal Libra placements, he’s a big romantic. It’s how he knows himself, how he shows himself, how he communicates and how he feels. I thought I’d mention this part of his personality, because it’s the most straight-forward and commonly known “version” of Chan, even to himself. Since a partner tends to bring out 7th house qualities and motivate a person to be less their ascendant (the person they were motivated to be as a child or in their early lives) and more a “hidden” version of themselves (so in Chan’s case more bigger-picture-oriented or in favor of getting to know new cultures instead of only taking short road trips,...). So, here’s a little scenario in 1st person (just skip it if you’re not into flash fiction haha):

After 17 hours of flights and waiting, a hard-bedspring hotel mattress seemed a dream, but “the stars shine bright tonight,” Chan smiled

So instead of a douvet, a beach towel pressed against our backs

It had been 2 months, and though it was only an extended weekend, I was gonna spend every second enjoying him and Montpellier.

“I still hate that I forgot my dress.”

“You look better in my jacket anyway.”

The waning moon painted the sea, shone in his eyes

“Can’t have a cute French guy steal my baby.” Sweater paws covered his dimples, but his eyes told in the way they winged up

“Never.”

The Scorpio and Pluto conjunction is coming through🤭

Taper candle lit and polyester napkin folded into a lotus, we sipped on the nicest sounding wine the menu offered.

He laughed with gold in the eyes, an Italian-style suit and curls on his forehead.

“I’ll get whatever they do.” He tilted his head as shadows traced his dimples. The waiter rose his brows.

“I’d like...uhm...Beu- Boeuf bouuu-” Letters morphed into each other, a strand fell.

“Boeuf Bourguignon. Oui, ready in a minute, madame, monsieur.” He left behind an onion smell.

When Chan reached for Ficelle slices, sleeves were loose on his suit.

“This garlic spread’s nice.”

“So nice, you’ve got to have it on your face?”

He covered his face with the sleeves as he wiped

And then some of the spread ends up on his sleeve lol

If life is a movie // Oh you’re the best part.

11:23pm

D-Major vibrated off his acoustic guitar, and his voice accompanied mine through the last chorus

The mattress was softer than expected and his voice fuzzier than I’d remembered.

Love me, won’t you “ever leave me”

Guitar on the bedside table, his arms enclosed me. Nowhere else would I have rather been. (Lol sorry for being cheesy)

Also can we just appreciate his TALENT for a second like this man gives me goosebumps with that tone and his stunning vocal stability☁️💗

Additional small thought; I think with his Sun conjunct his Mercury in the 5th, he isn’t only good at communication, thinks a lot and is proud of it, but also probably talks to himself haha

Feel free to lmk your own thoughts on this post as well as other aspects concerning his chart, let’s chat!💫

//I also want to add that, yes, without the possibility of him using his birth chart to his advantage and making his “demons” a controlled part of him that he turns for the better, he does have a very difficult love life focused on business and unhealthy power dynamics in which he would most likely be the one seeking control, considering his libra placements as well as the significance of Saturn in his birth chart suggesting that he feels the constant need to conform to societal norms for self-esteem reasons and others talked about above like the Saturn retrograde.//

[huihuiheart]

My Queen - Mafia! Changkyun

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Monsta X Masterlist

Pairing: Mafia! Changkyun x Sub! Female Reader

Genre: Smut with some fluff, but mostly just filth

Summary: Part 2 of Yes Sir! - You agreed to be his, so he intends to show you that he really can make you his queen. Honestly, I’m kind of considering making this a series.

Warnings: Unprotected sex, dom/sub themes (pretty soft though), body worship, strip tease(barely), most of the foreplay in the previous part, fingering.

Word Count: 1,706

“I think it’s time for you to make me your queen now, Sir.” You give him the same smirk he’s been giving you all night as you give him a true answer to his earlier invitation as well as move to get what you both truly wanted.

“Fuck doll. I thought you’d never ask.”

As much as Changkyun would have liked to fuck you in the hidden area behind the bar, he insisted on taking you back to his place to finish what the two of you had started. After all, he promised to make you his queen, so while he had no problems fucking you anywhere, over anything...it’s not what he intended to do your first night together like this. He intended to spoil you tonight, make sure you knew exactly all the things he could give to you. He’d save the rougher aspects for some other time. Likely when you would need to be reminded of just who was in charge after his endless amounts of spoiling.

His hand resting on your thigh through the whole drive to his place, making you certain you’re making a mess of the expensive leather seat of his car. Not that Changkyun would ever find himself complaining about that, quite the opposite actually. If he knew, however, the last of his self-control might shatter and he might take you in the backseat of his car only to regret not treating you how he felt you truly deserved. 

Chsngkyun was sure he could have been pulled over for multiple traffic violations, but he couldn’t care less. He was just glad he got you both back to his place as quickly as possible. Beaming proudly to himself when he noticed you gawking as his impressive home. Having come up the private drive, past the perfectly manicured lawn to what was practically a mansion. You knew it would be impressive, already knowing how much he profited...still the outside alone blew away any previous expectations you had.

“This is all yours now too. Along with anything else you might want or need. You are my queen now after all.”Changkyun brushes his thumb over your cheek, before slipping out of the car and coming around to help you out. The man was more than eager to get you inside, not that he’d let you appreciate the interior too much currently. Not when his patience was already running thin. He needed you in his bedroom and he needed you there now before he lost his goddamn mind.

The second both of you are through the door his lips are on yours, his hands finding your hips to lead the way to his room. Thoroughly distracting you from anything else, including anyone who works at his home, and might be catching glimpses of you both along the way. Something you would have worried about slamming the bedroom door shut doing if his home weren’t so big that the sound would have died out before meeting the ears of too many other people. 

Changkyun finally pulls away from your lips, sitting on his bed and unbuttoning his shirt slowly, “Strip for me doll? I want to see all of you, my queen.”

Despite the fact that he was the dominant one in the bedroom, his words were a request, not a demand. Wanting to be sure that you were comfortable tonight, even if he desired something different. Willing to concede to anything you wanted, even if he was dominant. You hold more power over Changkyun than you likely even knew. 

Shy or not, you were too far gone at this point to not give in to his request. Your movements weren’t slow enough to tease him but also allowed enough time for him to properly appreciate the view of each new inch of your bare skin that graced his sight. When he called you his queen that was putting it lightly, you had been his whole world for a while now. Not that it was love at first sight per se unless you counted the first time he saw your personality show through...that being what sucked the man in and trapped him there with no hope of escaping. 

Changkyun slipping his shirt off his shoulders and tossing it aside to join the last of your clothes, his hand offered to you as he stands once again. Gently gripping your hips to guide you back onto the bed, taking your place for a moment and discarding his pants, but not yet stripping entirely. He���s too busy focusing on you right now to worry about that. Leaning forward to press his lips to your throat before working them lower, intending to cover every little piece of skin he could reach with his affections. Willing to bow to his queen, showing wordlessly just how deeply his feelings ran even if he had not confessed them before tonight. Wanting you to know that he would give you everything, give up everything if it was for you...even his life.

“Where is all this patience coming from sir? Show me the same raw desire you did back at the bar. I want you already, please.” The way you pleaded beneath him, tacking on the honorific made Changkyun concede easily. His wants still bleeding through into his actions though, kissing his way back up before pressing a passionate kiss to your lips. His thinly clothed bulge grinding down onto your bare core.

“All in due time my queen, I want to make you feel blissfully loved first. Then I’ll fuck you senseless like a little slut afterward. That’s fair isn’t it?” Changkyun inquires, the rolling of his hips turning you to putty for him. Your nod is the only response he needs right now, after all, he can break you into all of his rules later. For now, his sole focus is on making sure you know how much he appreciates the entirety of you. 

Changkhyun’s fingers trail up your inner thigh, meeting your eagerness by slowly rubbing two fingers through your glistening folds. His lips drift over your neck and up your jaw, before looking into your eyes as he gently eases his fingers inside of you, letting you adjust as he works them deeper.

“I’m going to make you cum so sweetly before I show you that I can give it to you rough too. I want you to know that no matter what your desire, I can fulfill all of your needs my queen. You’ll never need anyone but me.” His languid pace along with his words has you moaning breathlessly into the room. It was not quite what you had begged him for, yet it was still so pleasurable that your head was already spinning. His thumb falling to your clit to rub circles at the same leisurely pace that his fingers pumped into you. Changkyun’s mouth lowering to capture one of your nipples, fully intending to use any weak spot he could find to make you feel as good as possible. Something you never would have thought could make you cum so hard until he did it, fingers stroking over your spot with each press of them into you while he rides you through the high. Giving you the briefest of kisses before he brings his fingers up to his mouth, making a show out of cleaning your essence off them, the taste making him moan.

“Fuck me like you promised and I’ll let you eat me out for as long as you want later.” You bargain with him, knowing that if you don’t speak up fast he’ll probably drag this out longer by tasting you from the source before you get to feel him. As enticing as that sounded you were far too impatient at the moment for that. Your hands are already pushing down his boxers to finally free his cock, letting you see it for the first time.

“Fine, but I’m going to hold you to that.” Changkyun chuckles, hands gripping your hips to flip you over onto your hands and knees. His hands greedily groping at your ass while rubbing his tip through your folds, collecting your wetness before sheathing himself as deep inside of you as he could get. He leans in towards your ear, not having moved yet, “Tomorrow when you can’t walk on your own though, just remember that you’re the one who asked for this.” 

He doesn’t waste a second more before he’s setting a bruising pace that has your legs quaking each time he fills you so completely. Stroking over your most sensitive spots, his tip even brushing against your cervix in a way that you know will undoubtedly leave you sore reminders the next day. No part of you could care less though, you finally were getting fucked the way you’d wanted since you started working for Changkyun. Finally feeling his hips snap against your ass while he fucked you like his own personal doll. Something Changkyun certainly proved he could keep up for rounds without any hesitation.

Peeking out from under the covers the next morning, you carefully moved to slip out of bed. Your legs are slightly weak and a bit jelly-like, but not unbearable. It seemed his doting aftercare had done you some good, especially at ensuring you didn’t feel grimey this morning. You silently pad over to your items and fish your cell phone out of your purse, before slipping out of the room and glancing down the hall the check that the coast was clear. Scrolling through your call history for that one familiar number, despite it being marked as an unknown caller and pressing the button, waiting for someone to pick up.

“It worked.....I’m in. I’ll call you with an update as soon as I can. I just thought you should know that we finally made it this far.” You whisper over the line, making the man on the other side chuckle.

“I told you it would now go back to him before he suspects anything...you’ve done well.” The man praises before hanging up, making you smirk. 

Silently you slip back into the room and Changkyun’s arms once more. Him still being sound asleep and not suspecting a single thing.

[anna-pixie]

padawan -> obi-wan kenobi {part one}

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

me: has a witcher series to finish which is taking a lot of time

also me: starts a new series about a character i’ve never written for before!

{also trying out a new layout? unsure of what i think of it}

summary: you’re hopelessly in love with anakin skywalker, but he only has eyes for padmé amidala. your heartbreak is starting to effect your performance in the jedi temple, and your position as padawan to obi-wan kenobi is in jeopardy.

pairings: obi-wan kenobi x reader {eventually}

warnings: none

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

         ╔═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

Your face is blank as you watch Anakin from across the room, something you’ve learnt to do from many, many months of suppressing your emotions. Though your face no longer betrays you, the way your heart swells at the sight of his smiling face reminds you of your ever present love for the fiery Jedi.

Your warmth stutters, however, when a hand is placed on his shoulder, and Senator Amidala appears from behind him with a smile full of sunshine and grace. You can’t help but slightly purse your lips as Anakin’s whole body reacts to her touch, as though she is a magnet and he is made out of pure iron.

Anakin, whilst being a great Jedi and an exceptional pilot, is not as skilled at masking his emotions. Despite it technically still being a secret, you’re sure that everyone knows of his love for and marriage to the gleeful senator. It was like a punch in the gut when you had found out about their nuptials. You and Anakin had been close friends for years, your friendship was one of those will-they, won’t-they friendships, full of flirty banter and sexual tension. You had liked it that way, you were content that way. Until the day he arrived with the joyful news that he had settled down with Padmé. That was the day that your friendship changed forever, he withdrew from you, became more distant and treated you the way a Master would treat a Padawan - holding you at arms length as though you had never been close in the first place.

It suffices to say that you’re heartbroken, and you wake up every day just as heartbroken as the last. It’s a horrible cycle that has had devastating effects on your training. You’re unfocused, unwilling to put in any extra effort, unwilling to socialise the way you used to because everywhere you go, the two of them are there, as in love as the day they wed.

“Credit for your thoughts?” The melodious voice of Obi-Wan Kenobi floods your ears as he settles himself beside you on the black lounger.

 “I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than a singular credit, Master.” You joke, leaping to your usual defence mechanism of humor to deflect from the obvious sadness radiating from you. You’ve never met anyone as perceptive to the force as Obi-Wan, both a blessing due to his vast knowledge, but also a curse, due to the fact you can never quite hide your emotions from the Jedi Master.

You had trained under Obi-Wan at the same time as Anakin, however your recent slip ups had meant that while Anakin was promoted to the rank of Jedi Knight, you still remained a Padawan under the guidance of Obi-Wan.

 “Of course, my Padawan, I apologize,” Humor laces his tone, before he turns to face you completely, his expression more serious as he holds eye contact with you, “I do require a serious conversation with you, Y/N, about your recent performance as my Padawan. Please join me in my quarters for a drink of tea. Be there around 7. Enjoy the rest of your day, young one.”

You watch with a fond smile as the older Jedi makes his leave from the bustling room, his robes swishing behind him as he goes. Truth be told, you had harboured a crush on your Master when you first began to train under him. The first few times you met him were spent with longing gazes and a lot of lip biting on your end, but eventually your attention was captured by the flirty, playful nature of Anakin. You wonder how things would’ve turned out if your focus had stayed on the older Jedi master, you know he is very set in his ways, but you wonder if maybe something would have bloomed between the two of you. You can imagine Obi-Wan to be a very gentle lover, in all aspects, the complete antithesis to the damned Skywalker boy you had fallen for.

With a shake of your head, you banish all thoughts of romance from your mind. You’re training to become a full fledged Jedi, attachments are not allowed. That doesn’t mean other things aren’t allowed, that stupid voice in your head reminds you. No, you won’t let yourself think about such things.

              ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Your head is hanging low as you stroll slowly through the hallway of the Jedi temple, on your way back to your residence after a long day of not really listening to the things the council had been droning on about. You can tell that people are starting to notice your wavering commitment to the cause, however you honestly cannot bring yourself to care.

 A shriek escapes your mouth as a hard body barrels into your own, almost sending you to the ground had it not been for your quick reflexes summoning the force to keep your body upright. A smile forms on your lips as you hear the tell tale chuckles of Anakin, who seems to have quickly ran out from behind one of the pillars without first checking for passers-by.

“Y/N.” He breaths, an apologetic smile on his face as he gathers himself, brushing his chin length hair back into place, “Sorry about that.” His voice is sheepish and he scratches the back of his head.

 “Don’t worry about it, Ani, walk with me?” You throw out, averting your eyes as you nervously await his response. You don’t know why you even asked, you haven’t been alone with him for a while, he’ll definitely say n-

“Sure. You going back to the residences?” You nod at his question, too shocked by his agreement to form words at the moment. He sends you another smile as you start your trek back to your quarters, your legs moving of their own accord whilst your mind takes a moment to catch up with the current situation. You curse your heart for the way it swells instantly with happiness at the presence of Anakin, simply walking beside him, barely feeling the warmth of him under his robes, makes all the feelings you try so hard to suppress return to the surface.

A noise from behind grabs your attention, and the two of you turn your heads, only to be met with the sight of a giggling Padmé trying to sneak out from behind the same pillar Anakin came from. The familiar sadness hits you like a tidal wave as you face forwards once more, just catching the fond smile on Anakin’s face as he looks back at his wife. The fleeting happiness you get when you’re around him is not worth the floods of sadness that always follow, you think, as the two of you walk silently towards your residences.

“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Y/N. No one has, actually. I know Obi-Wan has been worried about you.” He speaks casually, his tone so breezy that it sounds as if your welfare never even crossed his mind. Obi-Wan is worried about you, fine. But is Anakin? He’s the source of all your pain to begin with.

 “That’s nice of him.” You muse, not even glancing in his direction as you continue walking, hoping that your upbeat tone is enough to quell any curiosity he may have. However, it is not, and you’re stopped when he tugs at your elbow, gripping onto it with a slightly lax grip as he narrows his eyes at you.

 “Seriously, Y/N, what on Tatooine is going on with you?.” His tone is firmer now, and your skin is heating at the feeling of his hand on the bare skin of your arm. You try to find your words as you gaze into his eyes and you quickly realise that you need to get yourself together, lest you want him to feel your true emotions through the force.

“Absolutely nothing.” A tight smile pulls across your lips and you wrench your elbow out of his grip, leaving him standing outside the temple with his suspicious gaze trained on your retreating figure.

 By the time you return to your room, you only have an hour or so before you’re due to meet Obi-Wan for tea. You decide that you must do some meditation before you face your Master, knowing that his concern for your wellbeing will make him more perceptive when he analyses you.

You find brief tranquility, thinking of the lush skies and soft greenery of your home planet Alderaan. It’s not long before your mind is bombarded with the images of what Anakin and Padmé must’ve been getting upto behind the pillar of the temple, stealing secret kisses and laughs because they love each other so much that they can’t possibly wait until they are in private to be together.

Jealousy rolls off you in waves, thinking about how you wish it was you that he was so desperate to kiss, so desperate to hold and be in your presence even though it is forbidden. Accepting the fact that Obi-Wan will be able to sense your negative emotions from a mile away, you begin to get ready to join him.

You’ve never been in a Master’s quarters before, so you’re unsure of whether your usual outfit is appropriate attire for the occasion. A simple tank top, usually a light colour, and matching tight pants, with a sheer sarong wrapped around your waist. Deciding that you doubt Obi-Wan will care what you’re wearing, you decide to forgo any changes. You fix your hair and look in the mirror with a frown as your thoughts take over once more.

What does Padmé have that you don’t? Is it her position in the senate? Her maturity? Her outgoing personality? You had tried to be more like her, more vocal and social in your day to day life, but by nature you are cripplingly shy, so that failed miserably.

               ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Come in, Padawan.” Your Master’s voice sounds from behind the large white door, and you wait patiently as it slides open for you at his command. He is still wearing his robes from the day, you note, as he pours two small cups of herbal tea at the small table next to his kitchenette.

All the Jedi Masters have larger, more equipped residences than the Padawans, and usually make food and eat in their own quarters rather than in the mess hall like the rest of you.

You take a moment to look around Obi-Wan’s room whilst he is momentarily distracted making your drinks. It’s very...him. He seems to have chosen to forgo the harsh, overhead lighting that adorns the rest of the residences, instead having a few dim lamps dotted around that spread a low, moody hue around the room. It is relatively clean, his bed is made, scattered with many comfy looking blankets, yet every free surface seems to be covered by piles and piles of books. You can tell that most of them are old Jedi texts, and a smile tugs at your lips at the dedication of your Master.

 It’s strange to be in here, you feel like you’re completely surrounded by every aspect of him. You can see a spare change of robes hanging on the doors of his closet, probably ready to be worn tomorrow, and the door of his fresher is slightly ajar, allowing you to peek inside if you wish to. There is a dirty plate next to his sink, he must have just finished eating before you arrived, not having time to clean the dish properly. Seeing his room like this, he seems so human to you all of a sudden. He seems so… familiar to you.

“You’re a curious one, aren’t you?” His voice is amused, and you turn to face him with a blush. He is sitting down now, in one of the chairs that surrounds the tiny table, opposite another one for you to sit on. You mumble an apology and make your way to the seat, awkwardly perching yourself on the edge of it.

 “I like your room, Master Kenobi, it’s very… homely.” He smiles at your admission and gestures to your tea before taking a sip of his own.

“Thank you, Y/N. I like to have a place I enjoy spending time, I appreciate it when I return from long missions.” You hum at his response, letting out a pleased noise as you taste the tea he prepared. It is some sort of woodsy concoction, not what you’d usually go for, but it tastes like heaven on your tongue.

“So…” You clear your throat, the anticipation of this impending conversation almost killing you, “You wanted to talk to me, Master?”

“Ah yes, straight to it then?” He looks puzzled at first, as though he is unsure of how to approach the topic, before heaving a resigned sigh and placing his tea back onto the table with nary a drop spilt, “Y/N, you had so much potential. I chose you and Anakin to train under me because I saw something in the both of you. Anakin? He was hot headed, fueled by passion and rage and I thought it a good challenge to help him control it. You, on the other hand? You were quiet, reserved, overwhelmed by your shyness but absolutely simmering with potential. And we unlocked so much of it, did we not? You were excelling, even more so than Anakin. What happened, Y/N? You can’t expect me to believe that my best Padawan forgot everything she’d learnt overnight. No…” He leans forward now, not allowing your wide-eyed gaze to waver from his as he continues with his serious spiel, “You stopped trying, you gave up. I would like to know why, and you’re not leaving my quarters until you tell me. I’ve tried to be gentle with you, kind, but the council are threatening termination of your place in the Jedi temple.”

Silence descends on the tense room as your brain struggles to comprehend everything Obi-Wan just threw your way. Of course you knew the council weren’t happy with you, you’d seen the disapproving gazes from Mace Windu and Ki Adi-Mundi, but you never even considered it had reached the point that they were considering ending your training as a Jedi, and relieving you of your place in the temple.

The only sound that breaks the silence is your breathing getting quicker and quicker, until Obi-Wan realises he needs to try and calm you down. Your anxiety is so strong he feels as though it is hitting him, and he notices the way your eyes begin to well up, and you realise with a start that months and months of pent up emotions are making themselves known right now. Right here, in your Master’s quarters.

 Luckily, General Kenobi is a master at diffusing situations, and is quick to kneel in front of you, taking both of your hands in his and gazing up at you with those kind eyes of his.

“If nothing else, Y/N, a Padawan should be able to trust their Master. Can you trust me? Whatever the problem is, it will not leave this room. I give you my word.”

You know you shouldn’t tell him, for Jedi’s should not love, but you crumble the second his thumb brushes over the skin of your hand. At this moment, you want to be comforted, and not just by anyone, by Obi-Wan specifically.

“I love him, Obi-Wan. I love Anakin so much it hurts, but he doesn’t love me, he loves her.” You sob, tears spilling freely from your eyes as you avert them from his own. When you hesitantly look back towards him, you expect him to look shocked, angry, in disbelief. Rather, he just gives you a sad smile that conveys the fact that your admission was exactly what he had expected you to say to him.

Has Obi-Wan known about your feelings for Anakin this whole time?

        ╚═══*.·:·.☽✧    ✦    ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 17

Preview AND the real deal in one day? I’m on a roll 😎 But in all seriousness: super happy I could share this (more or less) on time with everyone! I’ve started working on a side project I’ll share more about tomorrow so I’m still figuring out my writing schedule. Also promise I’ll respond to all asks this week as well! As always, feel free to check out this chapter on AO3 and know that I adore all kudos, comments, asks, etc. You all make this journey such a gift ❤️

These days, things somehow felt slow and exciting at the same time — it was odd. There was so much at stake and all of it lay within the borders of Republic City. In a few weeks time, Kuvira’s spirit cannon would reach completion and the army would be on its way to claim all that remained to consecrate the Empire.

Although you still find yourself caught up the more bureaucratic aspects of the work — paperwork, meetings, more paperwork — it feels like you can almost touch the weight of anticipation that hangs in the air. Nothing else slows down but everyone appears to hold a collective breath as Baatar works on the final touches of the machine.

Today in particular, you decide to take a trip to engineering. Kuvira is nowhere to be found so you assume she’s off in some pressing meeting with her sergeants. Perhaps strategizing for the City’s response and especially the Avatar’s. Given the scope of the army’s proposed attack, you can’t possibly imagine anyone, not even Korra, withstanding such magnitude of force.

You feel a slight twinge in your chest at the thought of what lies ahead. You think of Bolin, Varrick, and Zhu Li. You wonder whether Raiko will willingly submit to Kuvira and spare the damages that will transpire if he doesn’t.

But at this point, you know better than that. If the United Republic had wanted to end things peacefully, Kuvira would have already reached an accord with them. It was clear no one was willing to budge so you could only hope that the damages would be as minimal as possible.

You stroll into the warehouse, following the sharp sounds of electricity and metal clanking together. A number of privates salute you as you walk past and you offer them reassuring smiles. “At ease, privates,” you chuckle. Despite how much time has passed, you’ll never grow accustomed to the way people interact with you for being both Kuvira’s significant other and a critical role in her Inner Circle.

Baatar recognizes your voice and he looks down from the platform several feet above you. He calls your name excitedly and you can’t help but grin. Admittedly you’ve never been too fond of the man (even back in Zaofu) but you would be wrong to deny all of the incredible work he’s put into bringing the army this far along. Plus, he’s done his best to get on your good side once it became clear his chances with Kuvira were effectively eliminated.

“How’re things going up there?” you call out.

“They’re going,” Baatar responds, somewhat disillusioned. Your brow furrows together and you cross your arms.

“What’s the matter? You don’t sound too pleased,” you remark.

“I can’t seem to make the connection between the cannon and the suit’s body...each piece functions properly on its own but the wiring simply won’t synthesize everything together,” he explains.

“Hm...I’m not sure how much help I could be but could I come check it out at least? If anything it’ll be a good way for me to admire all your handiwork,” you say.

Baatar smiles halfheartedly and sighs. “I suppose. Perhaps there’s something you might notice that I haven’t been able to. Five straight hours can do that to someone,” he admits, leaning over to press the yellow button that unfolds a metal staircase.

Once it lands on the floor with a soft clink, you leap onto it and head up until you’re within an arm’s length from Baatar. Being much closer to him you can see the lines of exhaustion etched below his eyes. His hair is gelled down neatly, though some strands of it fall along his temples where it sticks to a thin film of perspiration.

“Baatar...have you seriously been working on this for five hours straight?” you ask.

He appears confused by the question and purses his lips. “Of course I have. What else would I be working on?” he replies.

“I understand but...you should take a break soon. At least a half hour or something,” you recommend. He vehemently shakes his head in protest.

“Absolutely not. Kuvira wouldn’t allow it and with good reason. Every moment wasted on anything other than this machine is more time lost to take Republic City for the Empire. I will not be the reason everything we’ve worked for is lost,” he states.

You stay quiet, watching him worriedly before you release a soft sigh. You always knew Baatar to be...a deeply passionate man since joining Kuvira. From what you had pieced together during your conversations with her, you learned that he grew up in his father’s shadow. He was always praised as the mirror image of the older Baatar, with an aptitude for design and engineering.

When he joined Kuvira, it was probably the first time in his life that something was entirely his own. Not an addition to his father’s work, not a continuation of everything so many people expected of him. What he created was novel, powerful, and completely his own.

Understandably, he had grown so invested in this final display of his autonomy and innovation that any potential threat to it was unfathomable.

“It’s alright, I understand,” you reassure him, stepping forward and tentatively resting your hand on his forearm. You feel him tense beneath you and you wish he hadn’t because now it feels even more awkward. You’ve never felt the urge to offer him any sort of comfort until now but then he relaxes and you can slide your hand away without feeling too uncomfortable.

“So!” you exclaim, hoping to break the odd tension. “You said you were having trouble connecting the cannon to the rest of the suit?”

“Indeed,” Baatar sighs. He peers into gaping machinery, sifting through thick cords of wiring and metal. “I’ve checked for any and all missing pieces and there isn’t a single thing out of place. I wonder if you’d be able to see anything I might be missing.”

You chew on your lower lip, growing nervous at the prospect of going anywhere near the obviously complicated technology. The chances of you damaging anything are close to none...though they aren’t quite zero.

Nevertheless, you lean forward just an inch to gaze upon the convoluted maze coiled within the massive platinum encasements. None of it makes sense to you and you feel foolish even bothering to check.

Even so, you angle your hand forward and throw Bataar a questioning look. He nods and you start carefully pushing aside the cords in hopes of seeing, well, something.

At the exact moment you feel an indentation in one of the metal fibers, you hear the echo of footsteps below and the sound of Kuvira’s voice. You mean to pull away in excitement but the hem of your sleeve gets caught.

Grumbling, you manage to pull it away but not before feeling a sensation pulse through your body that’s lightning hot and stinging all the same. The pain concentrates in your arm for a split second and your eyes are forced closed.

The only thing you’re aware of is the muffled sound of shouting around you beneath your own screaming before your head crashes against something cold and hard and your vision fades into complete darkness.

---

“This could have been so much worse, Baatar. Do you have any idea how much worse this could have been?”

The voice sounds distant, almost warped, as if it were coming from another room. Wait...are you in a room? It feels still and quiet so you assume you are.

Your eyes are sealed shut and it feels like your brain is trying to push out of your skull. When you try to twitch your fingers, a searing pain shoots up your left arm and a pained sound gets caught in your throat.

Okay. So no moving yet.

You inhale slowly and wince at the sharp ache in your ribs and your chest. Other than that, nothing hurts too bad if you stay relatively still so you focus on maintaining a careful breath.

As you start to grow accustomed to the aches and pains, you let your eyelids flutter open. Well, flutter almost seems too glamorous to describe the heavy feeling when you peel them apart. It feels like you’ve had them shut for weeks.

You try not to move your head around too much as you scan your surroundings, realizing you’re back in the tent you share with Kuvira. The lanterns have been blown out so you assume it’s nighttime until you hear the voices again.

“Kuvira, I apologize profusely for my lapse in judgement. I should have known better than to—”

“You’re right. You should have known better and you didn’t. Baatar, I expect nothing but the utmost professionalism from you and now is not the time to make such potentially fatal errors.”

Though you can’t see anything, you clearly envision what poor Baatar’s face must look like: crumpled in defeat and tight with regret. You want to get up and reassure him you’re okay, though you aren’t really sure what happened in the first place.

Instead, you clear your throat and before you can even open your mouth, Kuvira’s voice whispers something rushedly before she bends the door open and steps inside. You expect to see Baatar join her but she enters alone, sliding it shut and preventing anyone else from entering.

“You’re awake,” Kuvira sighs, rushing over to you and kneeling at your side. Her hands hover over your arm, unsure, and it catches you off guard. Kuvira’s self-assurance rarely falters — when it does, it’s a cause for concern.

“I am,” you affirm, attempting a soft grin before you try to push yourself up. As your left arm protests in agony, you realize it’s been bandaged with multiple layers of thick gauze. Kuvira notices your confused expression and her face grows grim.

“What happened?” you ask. Kuvira stares at your arm for a few moments in thick silence, almost as if her capacity to speak had been plucked from her throat the instant you broached the subject.

“There was a damaged piece of armored cable,” she eventually says. “Between the wiring and what little spirit energy was being transmitted from the suit’s core, it was exposed enough to deliver a shock that knocked you out for hours.”

Ah. So that explained the bandaged arm and why everything else seared in a dull, muted ache.

“Hours? That’s better than what I thought,” you joked. “I could’ve sworn I was out for weeks!” You attempt to laugh but Kuvira finally looks up at you and her expression is so grave it effectively shuts down whatever attempt you make to lighten the situation.

“You could have been,” she hisses. “Had you gotten any closer to that damaged material who knows what could have—I don’t know what I—”

“Kuvira,” you interrupt. Her eyes slide shut and she grips the bedsheet tight, closing her fist over the material with a force that would break anything else if it were more solid. You manage to lift yourself up with your good arm and once you’re upright, you press your palm against her cheek.

“I’m okay, really I am,” you reassure her. “It’s probably just some bruising here and there. Plus my arm will be good in no time, you’ll see.”

“I know that, it’s just…” Kuvira’s voice trails off for a few moments before she can continue. She swallows hard and exhales shakily. “I walked in exactly as it happened and...it looked like you were gone. I heard you scream and when you went quiet, your body hit the ground and I could’ve sworn you...you weren’t there anymore.”

“I’m here now, Kuvira,” you murmur, dragging your thumb over her cheekbone in that way she loves but has never actually verbalized. You maintain a slow pace until you feel Kuvira melt into your touch, her features softening.

“I’m right here with you, alright?” you tell her. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m going to be okay and I promise I’ll be more careful. Now why don’t we go on a walk and maybe grab some tea?”

“No,” Kuvira responds quickly. “You stay here and I’ll bring you whatever you need. Besides, it’s late and you should be resting anyway. We’ll spend the night in the tent and see how you’re feeling tomorrow. Just...wait here.”

She leans forward to press her lips against your temple, staying there for a moment, confirming to herself that you’re really alive, and then breaks away with a reluctant stride. You sigh but smile inwardly, leaning back and hoping you get better soon so Kuvira will feel more at ease.

---

True to form, you recover within the span of a few days from the worst of it all. You take it easy in the days immediately succeeding the accident, even finding some spare time to meet with Baatar and assure him there’s no bad blood. He can’t find it in himself to accept forgiveness, though frankly you don’t blame any of it on him. You make it a point to eat the occasional meal with him when time permits...something you never envisioned doing mere months ago.

Character development indeed.

Though your arm takes longer to heal, you get back to work within three days time, albeit with slightly less mobility. Nevertheless, you approach your assignments with the same level of attention and detail as you would any other time.

However, the one thing that remains the same is Kuvira’s unwillingness to stay away from you for longer than thirty minute intervals.

Ever since the accident, she stays by your side almost nonstop except when she’s called away for business that doesn’t involve you. A hand on your waist when you lift yourself off a chair, her arms circling you as you get out of bed, her fingers guiding you towards an exit when there are too many people nearby.

Today, you’re filing away the last of the latest shipment updates from Yi. You sigh and Kuvira looks up from across the room. “Are you alright? Are you in pain?” she asks worriedly.

You bite your lip with hopes that it’ll stop you from rolling your eyes as you shake your head. “I’m fine, Kuvira,” you respond. “Head’s just feeling loaded from all these files. I think I’m going to close out for the day.”

“Of course. Let me take you to our quarters,” Kuvira replies, shoving away whatever she was working on and making her way towards you. She offers you her hand which you take, not without some exasperation.

“I can get there on my own, you know,” you remind her, hoping you don’t come off as too abrasive. Luckily it seems to go over her head because Kuvira is too preoccupied with making sure your knee doesn’t smash against the desk or that the wall doesn’t touch any other part of your body.

“Of course I know that but I won’t let you,” Kuvira says simply. And with that, she guides you back to the tent with one arm wrapped around your waist, her hand digging softly into your side. The guards look on with a mix of sympathetic glances and the occasional teasing grin. You grimace in response and do your best to ignore them, affronted that they’ve become so bold.

You reach the tent and you aren’t sure what look Kuvira gives the guards because they quickly scramble away (or as good as one can scramble in a bulky mech suit) so she can bend the door open. She steps in first, letting you lean on her arm to lift you up the two steps.

“Here, let’s get you into bed,” she murmurs, leading you towards the mattress and releasing your hand as you sit down.

“Kuvira…” You start to say but something in her face makes you stop. You’re tempted to tell her to ease up, that you’re fine and she’s worrying over nothing but you remind yourself what you would’ve felt in her place. You’ve seen Kuvira come close to death too many times and the thought nearly destroyed you.

So you keep quiet because you know she’s not actually being domineering. You hold her hand between both of yours and bring it to your lips, sliding the glove off so you can press your mouth against her bare skin.

“Don’t leave, Kuvira,” you murmur. “Can you...can you stay with me?”

“Of course,” Kuvira whispers, her face losing some of its tension as she sits to your side. She watches you intently and you can’t tell what she’s looking for. Perhaps some indication of pain? Discomfort?

The tent is quiet for some time and when Kuvira breaks the silence her voice is unusually hesitant. “I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable lately,” she sighs. You look at her and her expression is unreadable.

“What do you mean?” you ask.

“I’m afraid I’ve been rather...overbearing for the past few days. I know you’d never say it outright but I imagine it’s been difficult for you to deal with,” she explains. “I hope you understand why I’ve done it though.”

She adds that last sentence almost as if to reassure herself that her behavior is warranted which, frankly, it absolutely is and it pains you to think she doesn’t believe that.

You press closer to her until your thighs touch, lifting your hand to tilt her face towards yours and cupping your fingers around her jaw.

“Of course I understand, Kuvira. It’s absolutely fine. I can’t expect you to recover from something so frightening in such a short amount of time. I’m sorry if I gave the impression that you had to,” you apologize.

Kuvira exhales sharply and her lips curl into a faint smile. “Never. If anything you’ve been extremely patient for someone who’s had their partner doting on them for almost every waking hour,” she chuckles.

You grin and lean forward until the tip of your nose brushes against Kuvira’s. “Well I can’t say it hasn’t been kind of sweet having the Great Uniter at my beck and call,” you respond slyly.

“But don’t you always?” Kuvira asks, closing the gap between your faces just enough for her lips to nearly graze over your own.

“I suppose you’d think so,” you giggle. “Clearly you’ve been more...zealous as of late, haven’t you?”

Kuvira hums while she slides the other glove off her hand, lifting her fingers until they wrap around the back of your neck. The caress of warm skin produces a thrill that courses all the way down your spine. “May I kiss you?” she whispers and her breath tickles the skin below your ear.

“Please,” you respond, bridging the space that separates you and finally bringing her supple mouth against yours. The kiss is tentative and chaste, so similar to the ones you would share in the early days of your relationship. Kuvira’s hand stays still on your skin, mirroring the carefulness of her mouth, so evidently displaying her anxiety of moving too abruptly for fear of harming you in some way.

So you decide to encourage her further, parting your lips and letting the tip of your tongue playfully brush against hers. Kuvira gasps and jerks backward, her face already tinted a lovely shade of red. It’s an unusual look for her but one that you relish for its rarity.

“What’s the matter? Too much?” you ask. The inquiry comes out sounding much more playful than you’d intended.

“I, um. I guess I didn’t expect that. I thought you would want to take things slow for now,” she elaborates. Kuvira is normally so composed, hyper-aware of every sound and movement she makes especially when she’s being closely observed, which is why you’re pleasantly surprised to see the way her throat clenches as she swallows.

“I’ll take things slow if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, Kuvira?” you ask innocently, lifting your eyebrows and removing your hands from her body. “Do you just want me to kiss you nice and slow...not deeper and harder until you feel your heart pounding against your chest? Not until you start kissing my neck and moving your hand lower and lower...just enough to feel how wet—”

Much to your delight, you’re swiftly cut off when Kuvira seals her mouth over yours again, the force of it strong enough to push you back an inch. You make a pleased sound in your throat and finally throw your arms around her neck, readjusting until you can swing your legs over her thighs and rest upon her lap.

Kuvira’s hands drift mindlessly over your sides, not quite touching but not too far off either. You grow exasperated so you tug on them and wrap them around your hips, grinding downwards so she can feel the growing heat between your legs. How desperately you’ve wanted this for days now.

She moans softly against your mouth and her patience wears thin within moments. Between the havoc you wreak on her lips and the canting motion of your body against her thighs, she eventually cradles you against her arm before placing you onto the mattress on your back.

You gasp in pleasant surprise once she hovers over you. She carries her weight with even greater caution, overly cognizant of potentially pressing down too hard and hurting you.

“What happened to taking it slow?” you tease breathlessly, hovering your fingers over the metal plates on her shoulder. She notices right away and knocks them off with quick work of her hands. They’re tossed onto the ground with a resounding clash.

“I think you should be asking yourself that question,” she responds, leaning down until her lips dance across your neck. “What was that you were mentioning earlier?” she whispers against you, dragging her tongue along the skin that isn’t covered by your uniform.

Your body instantly arches upward, feeling Kuvira’s breasts press against your chest. Between the accident and how busy everything already was before that, it had been weeks since you’ve been with her like this.

Therefore it’s no surprise that your body responds accordingly.

“Now don’t tell me you’ve gone all soft on me,” Kuvira says, pushing away the collar of your uniform and carefully sinking her teeth into the flesh at the base of your neck. You’re at a total loss for words, the sounds and syllables dissipating with each brush of Kuvira’s mouth on your body.

“Because that would be such a shame. I do love it when you make me work for it,” she sighs. Her hands, firm yet careful nonetheless, drift downwards until one rests over your hip. Even through the layers of fabric, her touch produces a sensation like fire that spreads from the point of contact all the way to each bit of muscle and nerve.

“But you also love it when I’m completely at your mercy, don’t you?” you shoot back, rather proud that your voice isn’t as weak as you expected it to be. Kuvira cocks an eyebrow and removes her mouth from your neck. You mourn the loss momentarily but keep going.

“You can’t deny it, Kuvira,” you continue, your eyes widening with glee. “I’ve seen the look in your eyes when you have me all tied up, completely and utterly at your disposal for whatever you desire. Haven’t you missed that? The way I’m completely helpless when you bind me up and all I can do is wait to see what you’ll do next.”

“It sounds like you’ve been thinking about this for some time,” Kuvira exhales, already short of breath.

“Oh I certainly have. And given how you can barely get through an entire sentence without gasping for air, I’d say you’re quite a fan of the prospect yourself,” you murmur.

“Are you sure? You’re not in any pain at all? I don’t want to hurt you,” Kuvira says quietly, the lustful look on her face morphing into one of concern.

You nod assuredly and shyly press your lips to hers again. “Yes, I’m absolutely sure. We’ve got our word, remember? I’ll let you know if I need you to stop.”

Kuvira nods against your touch and moves her hand to the back of your neck once more, this time undoing the buttons that hold the article together and lifting your arms to pull it away. The fabric bunches up around your bandaged forearm and though the gauze isn’t as thick anymore, it’s enough to make you both pause.

You bite back the laughter flooding your mouth and Kuvira looks vaguely irritated. Nevertheless, she approaches the minor hiccup with her usual, unhurried maneuvers until it slides away and you’re only covered by a soft undershirt.

The scars beneath the gauze start throbbing a bit but you manage to keep the worst at bay. It’s nothing too bad — nothing worth paying much attention to.

Kuvira spends the next few moments showering kisses, bites, and caresses over every inch of skin she can reach with her mouth. She takes you apart with slow and intentional movements until all you can do is lay frenzied with desire beneath her ministrations and attempt to hold back the pathetically desperate sounds that fall from your lips.

She begins to lift up the undershirt until it glides over and off your head and falls to the ground, along with the growing heap of Kuvira’s clothes mixed with your own. She keeps your arms high above your head, sliding her fingers over your skin and pauses. When she stops, you realize your eyes have been shut so you snap them open and look down at her impatiently.

“Don’t you worry...I’ve got exactly what you’ve been waiting for,” she murmurs. Kuvira lifts her hands and starts to coil her fingers. You hear the sharp sound of metal sliding against metal and then you see two silver strips emerging from her abandoned uniform. They float menacingly above your bodies, gradually curling into crescent shapes that hover over your wrists.

“I think it’s about time,” Kuvira whispers. Not a moment is wasted between the time she utters those words and the sensation of frigid metal clasping around your wrists, pulling your arms together and holding you down tight.

You’re met with an immediate burst of exhilaration and you ride it for about five seconds before it’s overridden with a growing feeling of discomfort that spreads under your bandages. You do your best to ignore it and instead focus on Kuvira moving downwards until she reaches the hem of your trousers.

“Now let’s see just how much you’ve wanted this,” she purrs against your hip, clipping her teeth over the edge of the fabric and using it to guide her hands as they slide it off. She’s soon met with the throbbing heat nestled between your thighs and you sigh in shameless pleasure.

As delicious as it feels, the pain in your arm only intensifies with each passing moment. You attempt to zero in on Kuvira’s mouth brushing against your bare hip, your thigh, the feeling of her lips hovering over the wet fabric of your underwear. It becomes overwhelming — the tension of wanting more but feeling your arm quiver with increasing pain.

“May I?” Kuvira asks, hooking her finger over the thin fabric and hinting at tearing it off. You murmur a quivering “yes” and hope she can’t sense the discomfort in your voice. She promptly removes them, dragging them down your legs and pressing her face against the crease where your hip meets your thigh.

It’s such an unbearable union of tender and carnal that it makes your body jerk hard against the restraints. The material digs into your injury just enough to make you cry out in distress.

“Silver, Kuvira! Silver,” you grunt through gritted teeth. Kuvira immediately breaks away and bends the metal strips off from your arms. They land on the floor with a harsh sound that makes you flinch.

“What do you need? What should I do?” she asks calmly. It would almost startle you how quickly she manages to shift tonalities but right now, it brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you needed.

“My arm...it-it stings,” you mumble, carrying it down until it rests on your abdomen. “I just need a second. Maybe that healing salve?”

“Of course. Stay still, alright? I’ve kept it in my desk,” Kuvira reassures, leaning down to press a kiss against your forehead and leaping off the bed. She throws a spare bed sheet over her body as she strides across the room, shuffling through a drawer until she finds the salve and a sealed green pouch.

She kneels on the bed and slides her arm around your bare back to help lift you up with little pressure. Once you’re upright, she gingerly takes your injured arm between her hands and begins to unfold the gauze.

The skin that emerges is marred with a thin layer of scarred flesh, much less angry than how it appeared just last week. Kuvira uncovers the glass jar and scoops a portion of the salve onto two fingers that she presses against the wound.

It feels awful at first, almost exacerbating the pain, but it gradually melts into a refreshing coolness that numbs the discomfort. You hiss a bit at the beginning and Kuvira lifts her hand away.

“Is it too much?” she murmurs. “I’m not pressing down too hard, am I?”

You shake your head adamantly. “No, not at all,” you respond. “You’re totally fine. Just stung at first. It feels good now, I promise.”

Kuvira nods in understanding, rubbing the last of the substance onto your skin and pulling open the small pouch. She pulls out a long strip of gauze that she untangles and starts folding over your arm, sealing the salve’s properties against the scars.

She moves smoothly, indicative of one who has done this many times before. You wonder how often she had tended to others’ wounds as a guard in Zaofu.

“You’re all set,” she affirms once she ties it all together. She rests her hand over her handiwork, stroking her thumb over the material and looking up at you concernedly. “What else do you need?”

“I hate to say it but I think you were right,” you chuckle. “I think...I just want to sleep now. Do you, uh...do you mind, er—holding me?”

Kuvira’s face brightens even in the darkness of the tent and she nods, guiding your bodies back down to the bed so she can curl her body around yours, mindful of where your injured arm rests. Your legs tangle with hers as Kuvira tugs a thick blanket over your shoulders, bringing you closer to her chest until your forehead touches her collarbone.

The silence is comfortable, soothing. Exactly what you need. But you can’t shake the slight degree of embarrassment that clings to your thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“You don’t have to apologize for anything,” Kuvira murmurs. “I know you want to...and I understand. I won’t scold you for it but just know you don’t have to. I’m glad you told me. That’s what we do, right? Honesty.”

You nod against her and swallow. “You’re right...I appreciate it,” you respond. And though you don’t exchange any more words for what remains of the evening before you fall asleep, you lose yourself in the calming silence that follows. Kuvira’s hands float up and down your back and your shoulders, guiding you into a dreamless sleep that welcomes you with warmth and safety.

[lifeofkaze]

When Stars Ignite - Chapter 10

HPHM Rockstar AU

A/N:

General Warning: This whole fic has a general warning of being NSFW / 18+. We will give specific warnings for every chapter in itself, but several adult themes will be more or less present in every chapter, may it be explicitly or in mention. These include sexual topics, drug abuse, (ab)use of alcohol, smoking and a whole lot of cursing.

Specific Warning: None, wow 😂

~~~

Find the masterpost here, the previous chapter here and the next one here. The songs featured before every chapter can be found on this pretty badass playlist here.

~~~

This work is a collaboration with @the-al-chemist

Taglist: @slytherindisaster @night-rhea @carewyncromwell

I make my livin' off the evenin' news

Just give me somethin', somethin' I can use

People love it when you lose

They love dirty laundry

~ Don Henley - Dirty Laundry ~

Ethan’s plan to raise Equinox’s standing within the record company was very clear. While their nights were spent performing on stage, Ethan had made sure their days were filled with a tight schedule of PR appointments.

Where they’d had plenty of time to relax, socialise and explore on their previous tours, every day was now jam-packed with meet & greets, photoshoots and interviews. Even when they were off duty, Ethan was constantly reminding them to take pictures and film stories to publish on social media.

“People aren’t following you because they like your music,” he never got tired of saying. “They want to see who’s behind their favourite rockstars. Give them a look at your private life and you’ll be everybody’s darlings in no time once again.”

Some of them were more reluctant to put themselves out there than the others. While Lizzie and Skye didn’t mind the odd goofy backstage clip, Lizzie noticed Merula and especially Orion were increasingly drawing back into themselves.

Lizzie and Orion made a point to avoid talking about band business when they were spending their nights together; not that they were talking much at all. But the concerned crease that she could see more often than not on Orion’s forehead these days wasn’t lost on her either.

The worst part of Ethan’s strategy, however, were without a doubt the countless press appointments. All in the spirit of keeping the enemy close, Lizzie had lost track of how many interviews they had given since their U.K. tour had started. The publications they were working with ranged from reputable magazines and newspapers to the trashiest of tabloids. At least, most of the stories those were coming up with were just too hilarious to be actually believable; Lizzie shuddered to think what dirt they could uncover if they’d ever decide to dig for real.

Like on so many days before, Equinox were scheduled for another interview before one of their rare days off. It was for a feature story with a magazine well respected in the industry, all with an accompanying photo shoot and the whole conundrum. It wouldn’t have sounded so bad, had it not been for the journalist who had been chosen to conduct the interview.

Lizzie had met a number of reporters over the course of her career, but none who ground her nerves as Rita Skeeter did.

Beloved by her readers and dreaded by the subjects of her stories, Rita Skeeter was one of the most sharp-tongued critics British journalism had to offer. She had a singular gift - although some called it a curse - to wiggle even the slightest of juicy information out of her unheeding interview partner. Many a career had taken a dive after an unfortunate encounter with her.

If you wanted utmost attention, Rita Skeeter was the right woman for the job; but you had better get your guard up.

The blonde woman was currently watching Andre preparing them for the interview and the shoot afterwards; usually the magazines brought their own stylists, but Ethan liked to keep as many things under control as he could. Having Andre in charge of their looks guaranteed they would give off just the impression Ethan wanted.

Andre was in the process of applying Lizzie’s make up, the tip of his tongue showing between his teeth while he concentrated. She winced as her eyes started tearing up from the wand of the mascara.

“I don’t get why this much makeup is necessary,” she complained, drawing away from Andre to blink her tears away. “I get it with Merula, she’s singing and in focus, but I’m behind the drums, no one’s paying attention to me. Give her the spotlight and leave me in peace,” she added glumly as she saw Andre approach with a curling wand.

Andre tutted as he opened her ponytail and loosened her hair with practised hands. “Stop arguing, you know it’s useless. And besides,” he added with a wink that showed off his glittery eyeliner, “loads of people are paying attention to you; you’re just not looking.”

“I have to agree with Mr. Egwu,” Rita suddenly said. She had been leaning against one of the dressing tables on the set and watched them being dolled up. Andre usually held their wardrobe in dark colours, black and white, so Rita’s bilious green dress stood out like a flare in comparison. She pursed her bright red lips as she looked Lizzie up and down over the rim of her half-glasses.

“You’re a favourite with my readers, Miss Jameson… Lizzie, I may call you Lizzie, right?”

Without waiting for Lizzie’s answer, she continued. “You have a bright personality and some decent looks; you are the little sunshine of this group and everyone likes themselves a good ‘girl next door in the big wide world’ trope.”

She raised her hands at Lizzie’s sceptical look and laughed; it sounded incredibly put on. “I’m not a fan of putting people into drawers either, but it’s what the people want to see.” She tapped her finger against her temple. “It’s how my readers think.”

Skye snorted in the background; she was already done with her styling and sat on one of the tables, legs dangling in the air. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”

Rita giggled. “Of course the rebel of the group would say that, I expected nothing else; after all, there’s true rockstar blood running through your veins, Skye Parkin.”

Not wanting to draw any unnecessary attention to herself, Skye fell silent.

When everyone was ready, they moved over to where two comfortable looking sofas and an armchair were set up for them. Lizzie sighed inwardly as she took her place between Skye and Everett. Rita Skeeter was known to make her interview questions up on the spot; Lizzie just hoped they wouldn’t be too off the rails.

Rita leaned back into her armchair facing them and placed a dictating machine onto the small wooden table next to her. It was no secret that the infamous reporter liked to keep her own notes, kept apart from the material belonging to her magazine; she usually kept the dictating device running long after the cameras had turned off.

“So,” she began speaking to an invisible audience with a sickly sweet voice, “I’m honoured to be talking to England’s hottest export when it comes to rock ‘n’ roll - and I mean that in more ways than one.”

She turned her attention towards them. “It’s so good to have you here today, how are you all?”

They all muttered some noncommittal phrases before Rita started with her first question. Like always in the beginning, it was more of a general palaver as both parties were taking the other’s measure.

If the questions weren’t directed at anyone in particular, it was usually Everett answering them. He loved the attention he got from Rita and contrary to the rest of them, he almost seemed to feel comfortable around her. The pictures Lizzie had seen of him and Rita in Skye’s tabloid came to her mind again, and she wondered if that might be the reason for Everett’s talkativeness.

As the interview continued, Rita’s questions were gradually becoming more detailed, focused on several aspects that she deemed sell-worthy. She watched every one of them closely as they answered, and they picked their words carefully.

“One thing I noticed about this last part of your tour is your very increased availability,” Rita said. “I don’t remember seeing you do so much fan service and public appearances before. What’s the reason behind this?”

It was Orion who answered her question. “The most important thing to us is to make sure our fans are having a good time. Without them, we wouldn’t be where we are now; it’s not a lot, but this is our way of thanking them.”

“Is this the reason for your upcoming special show tomorrow? Reserved for the indigent foster care children?”

Her eyes flicked between Merula and Orion. “It’s no secret you two have a history with the system. One orphaned at such a young age, the other the daughter of convicted criminals, bound to be raised in the shadows of her parents’ deeds. Two unlikely siblings, not bound by blood but by trauma - how does it feel to risk a look into your own past?”

“It’s a show like any other,” Merula replied bluntly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. She scowled at the blonde reporter. “No need to make a big deal out of this.”

Orion inclined his head in Merula’s direction. “What Merula wants to say is, we make no difference in what good cause we are supporting, as long as we can put a smile on the faces of those who need it, even if only for a little while. We do have our past in the care system, that is common knowledge, but as Merula pointed out already, this is in the past. If you want to continue on your path, it is no good walking with your gaze turned backwards. We live in the here and now, so it’s what’s in front of us that matters.”

The slight twitch around the corners of Rita’s mouth was almost too quick to catch, but Lizzie had seen it nonetheless. Apparently, Orion had given her the exact bridge to her next question she had hoped for.

“If you want to speak about the here and now, I’ll be too happy to fulfill your wish,” she cooed. “Now that we’re speaking on a more personal level anyway, I just have to ask. You guys are living everyone’s wildest dreams, a life all of us mere mortals can only imagine.” Her eyes sparkled behind her glasses. “It’s only us here, you can trust me; what about the juicy stories? Any tales of sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll you want to share with the world?”

Lizzie subconsciously bit the inside of her cheek, hoping Rita hadn’t noticed before she got herself under control again; this woman was a bloodhound when it came to scandals. If she ever found out what was going on between Orion and her, Lizzie might just as well bury herself alive.

Luckily, Orion wasn’t fazed by her question. “The only passion we share is the love for our music,” he smiled noncommittally. “As professional musicians we try to keep our public and private lives separated.”

Rita’s eyes gleamed as she leaned forward. “You try to keep them separated?”

Before Lizzie couldn’t help it, her eyes flickered to Orion again.

“We have been friends for years, of course our lives intervene in places. The friendship between us we show to the world is genuine and not for show.”

“Friendship, huh?” Rita’s nostrils flared as her eyes swept the round. “Come on, we’re all adults here. So many gorgeous young people spending their time together all day, everyday? Don’t tell me you’re all staying up drinking apple juice and playing board games.”

Her attention shifted so suddenly that Lizzie was taken by surprise. “What about you, Lizzie? Any stories to tell?” She looked her up and down critically. “If you ask me, you and Jason would make quite the pair. The golden girl and the bad boy? People live for stories like that.”

Everett sighed wistfully. “Just call me Ev, Rita, everyone does. But yeah, that’s what I’ve been telling her for years now, but so far to no avail. Perhaps she’ll listen to you.”

Lizzie was relieved when he immediately started laughing his words off. “I’m joking of course; Orion is right. The band is our job and our management wants us to keep things professional. There’s other ways to live the rockstar lifestyle,” he finished with a wink.

Rita pursed her lips in a knowing smile. “That I believe in a heartbeat. Fill me in guys, between us, how is it with the ladies? The bad guy with an angel’s voice and the soulful songwriter and his magic hands… you must be spoiled for choice.”

Everett grinned and leaned back against the sofa. “I can’t complain, is all I’m saying.”

“How about you Orion? Dark eyes, messy hair, all those tattoos - your fans must love this,” she winked with a sly smile, “At least I know where I would try to go after a show if I was a little younger.”

Lizzie tried very much not to roll her eyes.

“Even if they do, I wouldn’t know of it,” Orion answered serenely. “While I love all our fans dearly, my relationship with them ends when our show does.”

“So no stories behind your many tattoos? No tales of long lost love?”

“I didn’t say there are no stories,” Orion replied, “only that they have nothing to do with any fans of ours.”

Trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic, he started explaining the stories behind some of the less meaningful tattoos on his wrists and arms. Lizzie knew each and every one of them by heart, the pictures as familiar to her as Orion’s smile when she ran her fingers over his painted skin.

What he didn’t mention was the biggest of his tattoos and her favourite one; the giant dreamcatcher running along the whole length of his back. Thinking about the intricate lines made a little smile appear on her face.

She didn’t even notice Rita asking her way through the rest of her friends until the reporter’s attention turned to her.

“All of your friends seem to be quite the fans of body art; what about you, Lizzie? Do you have any tattoos as well?”

Lizzie flashed Rita the brilliant but noncommittal smile reserved for the people she just couldn’t stand. “I do have one, yes.”

Rita raised an eyebrow when she didn’t continue. “And where might that be?”

Lizzie chuckled in response. “That will stay my little secret.”

Her gaze was fixed on Rita, but out of the corner of her eye she could see Orion fighting hard to suppress a grin. Of course, he knew exactly where it was.

Rita blinked, clearly irritated by her answer, the same empty smile that was on Lizzie’s face never leaving her red lips.

“Very well, keep your secret - for now. I’ll find out eventually.”

Her smile broadened, a dangerous glint shining in her eyes. “All secrets have their way of ending up with me, one way or another.”

Rita stood up from her armchair to get herself something to drink. When she turned her back on them, Lizzie slowly breathed out, relieved to have the blonde’s prying eyes taken off her.

As the others got up to leave the set as well, Orion and Lizzie’s eyes met for a moment. A smile was playing around his lips as they dropped to where her tattoo was hidden from everybody else’s sight.

She felt her lips curve into a smile of her own and she crossed her arms in front of her chest, her hand resting over the small spot on her ribcage where the words that resonated with her so much were inked into her skin. Seeing what she was doing, Orion couldn’t contain his grin any longer. Judging by the twinkle in his eyes, the memory of when he had first seen them was playing just as vividly in his mind as it did in hers.

[utterlyinevitable]

For the development questions: 3,4, 12, 22

not sure which pairing so i did it for o&e 😉

> useful/fun character development questions for couples <

3. By contrast, what was the moment that first made their ~heart~ Soft for the other person? Not necessarily a conscious realization of “I love this person,” but a moment that had them like “Oh…I adore them…”

The feeling of total adoration hmmm... 

Looking back Ode had a little flutter after her trial when they were having a drink and just a good time in one another’s company without any secrets tying them together. They’ve both been through a lot the last few weeks and they’ve come out of it as decent friends. 

Ethan after seeing everything she did for Naveen and for him was a start to this girl being a fixture in his life. He became very fond of her then. But the big smack in the head (or to the heart) was the Louise drama. He couldn’t have come through without her, and she didn’t need to be so sweet nor did she need to be taking care of him again. But she does. Because she’s always there, and she cares. Even if she doesn’t say it, even if he’s still quite sure that she cannot stand him most of the time, she’s by his side holding him up. 

Odette really couldn’t tell you when she went from I know this guy is my friend I’ll keep him to I know I like him much more than my other friends. I’m assuming it would be at some point during all of the events they go to together and just all the time they spend together. Where she starts slowly, gradually falling for him in deep adoration. Most notably hitting her heart is when she gets the keyboard - that changed everything. Followed up by the night of the charity auction where they just walked around the local area of Boston and grabbed a bite to eat at a dive they both joked they needed to make up for in the morning, in their formal get ups and just had a lovely evening.

4. Does this change over time? What will always reliably make them melt with how much they adore the other character?

The way the other cares will always make their heart melt. When they talk about what they’re passionate about and how their eyes sparkle and the small upturn of their mouth. It doesn’t matter what the other is saying, it’s the way they say it. 

12. How much independence do they prefer in a relationship—do they want to share their lives as much as possible with their partner, or do they prefer to mostly do their own thing and let their partner do their own thing?

They both really like their professional independence. It gives them something to talk about and look forward to. They’ll share stories about work but it’s just nice having something that’s completely theirs. Especially since they have 2 different aspirations - Ode believes in the wider scale where Ethan is more community focused. 

Ode also likes to do her writing by herself. When she thinks a piece is completely finished she’ll let him in and share it. This is more of a creative space thing that he has come to learn and understand. 

22. What does sex mean for them? Socially, religiously, what attitudes are they bringing with them? Is “virginity” something they care about? Do they want sexual experiences to occur within a certain “level” of relationship, or does that not really matter so much to them?

Oh ho ho Sara going in for the BIG ONE! 

Sex for Odette is a very sacred thing. She isn’t all that into it with her two other partners before she starts falling for Ethan. She needs all the romance and attachment feelings to enjoy it, something she’s never had before. 

Socially she believes intimacies should be private and just between the two people involved. She doesn’t view sex with a negative outlook, it just makes her feel weird and icky to be open about it. She believes in ‘your body, your choice’ so doesn’t harbor any animosity for those brave enough to be open about their sex lives. 

Ode isn’t religious, not really. She likes the traditions and holidays that come with being Catholic. She just doesn’t carry any Catholic guilt. Chastity isn’t a thing, but modesty is. Which kinda ties into the social comment above. 

She did think about virginity and was conscious of it when she was a kid. It was the kind of thing her peers were always going on and bragging about. So she lost it with her high school boyfriend to get it over with. It was awkward and uncomfortable and they only ever did it once more after that, which wasn’t any better either. I guess she also sees sex as a social responsibility in a relationship. Growing up more in her 20s she doesn’t put much stock in it and views it as an antiquated idea forced upon women by men. 

Obviously Odette needs sex to happen at a certain stage in the relationship. She has a 6 month rule; needs to be sure about things and makes her partners work for it. She wants to make sure it means something between them and isn’t a fuck for the sake of fucking. (she sleeps with ethan just before 5 months) 

For Ethan, sex is something that happens between two people that care for one another. He’s never been one for one night stands and prefers to somewhat woo his partner. Even if their ‘relationship’ lasted only a night or two it meant something then - something he can’t really regret. 

Ethan agrees that socially sex only matters to the people involved. People can do whatever as long as they don’t preach about it. 

He was never caught up in the whole virginity aspect - being an absolute teenage heartthrob Ethan could have his pick of the lot. He preferred to wait and focus on getting out of Providence, then started adventuring in college.  

[firelxdykatara]

So I was at work thinking about Zutara (as you do) and my mind drifted to a kat@@ng argument I tend to see a lot of. About how Aang would be so sad if Katara never returned his feelings and therefore Zutara 100% //can't// be endgame which... a) homeboy is literally 12 and would get over it, and b) BUT WHAT ABOUT KATARA THO. But it got me thinking. Is there even any evidence in canon that Air Nomads believed in wholesale monogamy or marriage? I mean, Aang never knew his parents (1/2)

(2/2) -and Aang was raised communally by the Air Nomad monks and nuns. So like, why would being with Katara (specifically JUST Katara) //forever// be something he'd hyper focus on so badly? Also, Aang is shown wanting to adhere pretty strictly to Air Nomadic teachings but in this instance he gets a pass? It just boggles me tbh. Anyway, your meta and responses are just plain amazing and would love to hear your thoughts on this.

I’ve actually talked a lot about Aang’s willful disregard for his people’s culture and customs when it clashes with something he wants, but I think most of these discussions have happened in private server spaces and I haven’t actually spoken much about it here, so let’s remedy that!

You are absolutely right--Aang’s lifelong monogamous relationship and Katara being his ‘forever girl’ clash with literally everything we actually know about Air Nomad culture. And it’s actually kind of frustrating, because this would have been an excellent chance for some worldbuilding--speak about how the Air Nomads did not hold with typical family structures, that monogamy simply wasn’t done because they practiced detachment and while that doesn’t mean they couldn’t love one another (Gyatso loved Aang a great deal, for example) it means they most likely would not have practiced relationship exclusivity.

Honestly, it would have been really cool to see a culture where monogamy was not the norm, and we get hints of it--Aang never knew his parents, and he wouldn’t have been discovered as the Avatar until years after his birth (I believe they do the toy test when the kids are toddlers or older), which means he was likely removed to the Air Temple shortly after being born. His parents most likely lived at separate temples--nuns had their own, as the temples were separated by gender--and its not a stretch to believe they didn’t have any sort of monogamous relationship. One theory I’ve seen proposted is that the AN practiced something like a yearly or bi-yearly fertility festival, where adults from the temples came together in celebration--of life, of love, of their people, of the element they breathed that informed every aspect of their lives--and I’m not suggesting wild orgies, but that many would pair off, have their own smaller celebrations, and return to the group, and this is where most pregnancies would happen.

That is, of course, pure speculation, but it would be a lot more in keeping with what we do know of the AIr Nomads than Aang deciding, at the ripe old age of twelve, that he’d found his ‘forever girl’ and he would be with her, and only her, for the rest of his life, no matter what.

It’s also very... odd, though, that Aang would even come up with this idea on his own. It’s not like there are tons of examples, as the gaang travel the world, of aggressively heterosexual couples pairing off and spending Forever together, because, well, they’re in the middle of a war and everyone has more important things to think about. And Aang’s crush, while cute and seeming more like puppy-love than anything else book 1 and most of book 2 (he literally imprinted on the first girl he saw when he hatched from the iceberg ok), becomes almost disturbingly possessive in book 3, and it really comes out of nowhere. When did Aang decide, without ever once asking, that Katara must return his feelings? And why? Because, as established, it makes absolutely no sense given what (admittedly little) we know about his own culture and how he was raised.

I realize that the Doyalist explanation is that Bryke are, themselves, aggressively heterosexual, and had decided from the jump that they wanted Aang to Get the Girl in the end, and so were determined to Make It Happen even when, given the story and how the characters had developed, it no longer made any narrative sense. (And yet they never thought to make Katara’s feelings a focus when trying to force Kataang to happen. Odd, that. Or maybe not so odd, considering their treatment of Katara in LoK. But I’m stopping myself here cause that’s a whole other rant.) But the Watsonian one paints a very unpleasant picture, especially given Aang’s actions towards Katara in book 3--during EIP in particular.

And it’s funny how Aang’s complete and total disregard for his people’s beliefs and culture, when it would deny him something he wants, is never mentioned in those ‘but Aang couldn’t kill Ozai, it goes against his culture’ posts. If Aang had demonstrated any willingness to uphold his people’s beliefs before this--like, say, following through on letting go of his attachment to Katara and understanding that if she didn’t feel the same way he did, he was not entitled to her affections and would be able to move on--then I’d be much more inclined to give those arguments credit.

As it is, however, the only reason I agree that Aang shouldn’t have had to kill Ozai is because he was just a child, and he should have been able to preserve the innocence of childhood as long as possible--but I still dislike the way his battle with Ozai ended, because he had disregarded his people’s beliefs over the entire book, he had done nothing to regain the Avatar State except get slammed against a pointy rock, and energybending was handed to him on a silver platter by a lionturtle who literally came out of nowhere to give it to him.

Not only that, but the discussion about what he would do once he actually faced the Firelord came much too late--the subject wasn’t even broached until The Southern Raiders, and thus Aang’s insistence that he can’t possibly take a life seems to come out of left field because a) he never felt any guilt over the lives he took while in the Avatar State at the end of book 1 (and this isn’t to say he was at fault for what Koizilla did while he was fused with it, but he has felt guilt over his actions in the Avatar State that were just as uncontrolled before this, and you’re telling me that he wouldn’t have seen any of that as blood on his hands? that if he killed Katara, or Sokka, or Toph, in one of those rages, he’d have just shrugged his shoulders and blamed it on the Avatar State? no), and b) there was absolutely no discussion of this before the eclipse, leaving one to wonder what, exactly, Aang was planning to do in that eight minute window where Ozai would be powerless. I don’t think it was a dance-off in the cards, that’s all I’m saying.

I’m sorry, I got incredibly off-topic. but the bottom line (TL;DR:) is: I absolutely agree with you. And it’s suspect, from both a character arc and a worldbuilding perspective, that Aang is only committed to his people’s beliefs and his culture in the one instance where he might have been asked to do something he didn’t want to, but not at all when following his own culture might have meant losing something he wanted. This not only paints him as incredibly selfish (something that is hard to dispute when looking at his behavior in book 3, though I would point out that if his arc actually followed a natural progression from books 1 and 2 he would have grown up rather than... that), but puts his culture in an incredibly simplistic light. We never get any deeper insight into what his people believed or how they lived, because Aang latches onto the first girl he sees and is determined to make her his ‘forever girl’, and there’s never any talk of how he was raised or what his people actually believed.

And even when he meets the Guru--someone much more well-versed in Air Nomad culture than Aang is, because Aang went into the ice at twelve years old and never had an opportunity to understand his culture--he almost immediately disregards what the Guru told him when it conflicts with his own desires. Sure, he says ‘I’m sorry, Katara’ when letting her go at the end of the finale (although....why he’s apologizing to her, when he’s had no indication she has feelings for him, and he certainly never asked, is beyond me), but come book 3 he’s right back to wanting to have her, and assuming he will just because he kisses her--without preamble, without any discussion of feelings, without even asking if she wants to be kissed--and flies off before the invasion.

Any way you slice it, it really doesn’t make sense, unless they wanted Aang to come across as selfish and pigheaded throughout the entirety of book 3. But I suspect that isn’t actually the image they wanted to project, and it makes me really sad when I think of what his arc could have been if it weren’t for Bryke’s insistence that he get the girl at the end of the story.

[likeholymary]

— one with the force

the phantom menace ii: 4.6k words

AU: What if the Clone Wars never happened, but instead Darth Sidious cast aside the Rule of Two, forging a new way for the Sith and began amassing an army of Sith warriors to overthrow the Jedi and the Republic?

A/N: (not my gif) (excerpt below is from The Clone Wars: Wild Space by Karen Miller, slightly altered to fit the story). hello beautiful friends! the beautiful gif credit goes to @pixelahsoka. this chapter has a LOT of content so just keep that in mind! also, kind of cheesy ending but whatever, hehe. also, yes, to confirm, obi-wan and rhea are a force dyad. however, it will (hopefully) be better than the sequels, bc i felt like it just came out of nowhere. their romance will be a slow-burn to them actually accepting it, with them still being at least semi-romantical along the way, so look forward to that! this chapter is filled with a lot of fluff, and a very angsty ending. this is the last chapter set during the phantom menace, so the next chapter will be set during attack of the clones, where most of the AU aspect will begin to pick up! comment below or send me an ask if you would like to join the taglist and be notified about the upcoming chapters! again, i am so grateful that you are even reading this, and if you feel compelled to do so, please reblog this post so your mutuals can read it as well! i love you all:) masterlist

mentions: death, blood, fighting, MAJOR angst, force connection, sadness.

The Master and Apprentice began their departure from the Jedi Temple on their Naboo, and Obi-Wan did not think it wise. 

Not after the Dathomirian man had appeared on that Maker-forsaken dustball with a red lightsaber, which only meant one thing – the Sith had returned.

He breathed in the pale glow of the planet’s moon, not taking time to look up and watch the stars glitter above, instead making short strides behind Qui-Gon, the shadow of the Naboo ship creeping its way across to cover them in more darkness, further darkening Obi-Wan’s mood and attitude towards the continuation of this ill-fated mission. 

Having just left the council’s chambers, he felt immense frustration, not only at the council, but at his Master as well. Not only was he ready to face the Jedi Trials which the council seemed to be denying him the right to, now his Master was all too eager to take on the latest lifeform they had picked up on their Naboo adventures, a boy believed to be the Chosen One by his Master.  

Not only was the boy too old, but Obi-Wan could sense it just as the council had – a great fear was buried deep within this Anakin Skywalker. A fear that was all consuming, and was growing slowly within him since they had left Tatooine and the boy’s mother behind.

Why could his master not sense it as he and the council did? Did he just assume ignorance for the possibilities to witness the forthcoming of a prophecy? He never understood his Master’s obsession with the old Jedi prophecies. It was an area of interest he sorely lacked, something that he felt put a strain on his relationship with Qui-Gon, something he realized that Qui-Gon probably wished Obi-Wan was intrigued by, but both of them knew that their Master-Apprentice relationship would never be like that of Dooku and Qui-Gon. 

Rhea, however, had been Dooku’s apprentice and shared a similar, if not less, affinity for the supernatural and old ways of the Jedi. Perhaps he could pay her a visit once his mission was completed, or even send her a message over their datapads like they used to before they got increasingly more busy as padawans. 

Surprise began to grow in him when he saw Rhea standing on the platform beside the ship. She had been waiting on him. As Qui-Gon began to speak to Anakin privately, Obi-Wan ran over to her with a small grin on his face. He should have known she would be here, for every time he simply thought of her, it seemed she was always nearby, as if she were watching over him.

“What are you doing here?” He beamed.

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but notice the blush dusting her cheeks, even in the shadow of the ship. 

“I couldn’t just let you leave without saying goodbye, now could I?”

“You said goodbye to me before the council meeting.”

Rhea rolled her eyes, groaning in annoyance before she began to simper quietly, punching him in the shoulder. “Well, yes, but I couldn’t give you this in front of the council, now could I?”  She held out her arms, opening them in anticipation for one of their rare hugs. When they were younglings, it was of course more sociably acceptable for them to embrace, however as the years began to pass and after many scoldings from each of their masters, they hid it away for special occasions or the few moments they would ever share alone, which were few and far between.

Obi-Wan buried his face in her shoulder, breathing in the sort of meadowy scent she always seemed to carry, as if she were the greatest meadow within the galaxy, filled with thousands of flowers constantly doused by the warm air and golden sunshine, only to be damped by a cool spring rain. She was a wonder, in his eyes.

Rhea’s arms wrapped around his neck as he lifted his head so he could carefully place his chin on top of her head, ever so sweetly. She equally breathed him in, sighing as she inhaled the overwhelming musk of rain, leather and perhaps even some old oak and a few of his dusty books. He always did become overly invested in his new findings, nose deep in his studies, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two stood there for but a moment, taking every part of each other in as if it were the last time they would see each other, and to Rhea, she felt like it was.

“Promise.. promise you’ll come back?” Obi-Wan pulled away, simpering down at her with a twinkle in his eyes.

“When have I ever not?”

Rhea scowled for a second, her face quickly softening once more. “Just promise me, you idiot.”

“Fine, I promise you, dearest.”

She rolled her eyes at the nickname, breathing out a short laugh, before launching herself further into his arms, her fingers lacing through his shortly buzzed hair. Now for this, well, she wasn’t sure what Master Windu would have to say if he saw her like this, but she knew that it would be a deep scolding. It seemed so stupidly forbidden for her to just be lacing her fingers through his hair, but she paid no mind to the Jedi Code in the moment. 

Rhea was his dearest, and he her Ben, and yet, the pain of the loss of her Master still fresh on her mind, reminded her why she could not become attached to this overly-complex relationship the two padawans shared. 

It’s time to let go. 

And yet, she couldn’t. And neither could he.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Obi-Wan Kenobi sat on the Queen’s ship while they flew through hyperspace back to Naboo. It seemed such a foolish idea to be returning to the invaded planet, but he did as he was told just as he always did, and followed the willful lead of his master. They were but a small force, two Jedi, a Queen and a handful of her people. What could they really do? If the Sith really had returned, could they really defeat them as well as an entire army?

The Queen had suggested they call upon the aid of the Gungans, but Obi-Wan questioned if that would work as well. The Gungans seemed to have a deeply seeded hatred for the people of Naboo, as it was obvious that in the past the former had treated the other like insolent fools. He wasn’t sure that he could disagree after spending so much time around Jar Jar Binks.

A light bit of laughter echoed in his mind, and it sounded like Rhea. He must have just imagined talking to her, Rhea giggling at his comments and avidly agreeing while coming up with her own quippy comment.

Obi-Wan could not help but miss the girl.

Alone in his small room aboard the ship, he tried closing his eyes so as to meditate, folding his hands together as he crossed his legs, breathe in, breathe out.

But she was still there.

Get out of my head.

He thought almost mockingly, knowing that she surely couldn’t be listening to his thoughts from such far a distance.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

Obi-Wan was shaken. There was absolutely no way-

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

Obi-Wan then snapped his eyes open, and there sitting in front of him was none other than his dearest, greatest life companion, Rhea Illyria, with a smile of a thousand stars.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea Illyria sat on her bed in her quarters inside the Jedi Temple, breathing in, breathing out, as she performed her daily morning meditation. She knew many other padawans and younglings who hated the act of meditation, but she found it rather peaceful, a time to focus on the energy of the Force, to feel it moving around her and all other life forms.

She, however, became momentarily distracted by the thought of Obi-Wan Kenobi and his departure back to Naboo. She sighed, wishing she could have gone with him. There was something in the Force, something that felt like a warning about the planet of Naboo, and those who invaded. No, not the invaders... The ones controlling the invaders, pulling the strings. Who were they? The Sith? Or was it something... something much greater and evil in all forms and aspects?

Rhea worried for Obi-Wan and his mission, and she couldn’t help the thoughts consuming her not only of the danger of his mission, but of the padawan and their untold and unseen embrace. 

However, there was a nagging feeling in her gut. The Force pulling her towards something... No, someone.

She could just reach out, and suddenly her eyes were meet with the galaxy, planets dancing by as the stars glimmered all around her. She was walking among them, slowly, as if moving through the tides of the deepest oceans.

Breathe in, breathe out. What is the Force pushing you towards?

Rhea could see something ahead, a silver shape slowly getting closer as she continued to wade her way through stars and the black dusts of the galaxy.

Someone was thinking intensely. Someone was annoyed.

She couldn’t help but giggle at the notion of the Gungans being quite unintelligent creatures, or at least Jar Jar Binks, the creature someone was thinking about.

The closer Rhea got to the shape, she noticed it took the form of the ship from Naboo, the ship that carried its queen, the ship that carried him.

Someone was Obi-Wan.

This had to be some dream, she thought. She must have drifted into some sleep while she was meditating. But at the same moment she drifted through space, she breathed in, and could feel the sheets of her bed curl around her fingers, sense the starflower in the corner of her window, could smell the caf she so desperately needed each day after her meditations.

Despite trying to refocus on her true surroundings, Rhea became lost in the stars once more when something pushed back against her.

Get out of my head.

Rhea huffed, and began to more faster, willing the stars around her to move, to allow her closer access to the ship. She continued to wade and move through slowly, yet determined.

Why don’t you get out of mine, Ben?

She could feel his confusion, and despite her own, she couldn’t help but find some joy in this strange place. How she was able to drift through the stars to the other padawan was certainly not a normal occurrence among the Jedi, nor within the Force.

He couldn’t believe she was there either. He was thinking about her, thinking about how he missed her, which tugged at something within her she had never noticed before.

Her fingers finally grace the cool metal of the ship, however, they moved through its surface, and she was able to pass through, allowing the Force to guide her to her dear friend.

At the same time, he became frustrated by her presence distracting him from his own meditation.

I’m still here. Could you help me get out? You’re thinking about me too much, and I’m a little offended that you’re annoyed of my presence.

She was no longer floating within the ship, and instead now found herself grounded, sitting cross legged across Obi-Wan.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

“Ho-how are you even here? I must be dreaming, there is no way that this could possibly be real. I mean, have you ever read about Jedi being able to communicate with each other over vast distances such as this? This is simply impossible!”  Obi-Wan rambled, tugging at his chin, brow furrowed as his mouth gaped slightly at the sight of Rhea.

She however, rolled her eyes, unamused this time by his consistent desire for the knowledge of just about everything. This had to be under the category he loved the least, and she treasured the most – the supernatural ongoings of the Force.

“Ben!” She finally shouted, smacking him on his forehead to get his attention.

This brought Obi-Wan to attention, but also caused both padawans to touch their forehead and hand respectively.

“How did you do that!” “How did I do that?”

Rhea and Obi-Wan were, to say the least, perplexed and befuddled by the situation before them. Obi-Wan, deciding the best course of action was to hypothesize how this anomaly could have occurred in the Force, decided they should each ask one another questions regarding just how this had happened.

“What were you doing when this,” he motioned between them, “happened?” Rhea bit her bottom lip, furrowing her brow just as he had. “I was meditating. It’s morning back at the Temple, so I was doing my morning meditations...” Obi-Wan’s hand remained on his chin, his forefinger rubbing incessantly across his upper lip. 

“As was I. Continue, please,” he spoke so softly, she almost wondered if he was trying to be quiet so no one would hear them and come looking.

“Well, my meditations were interrupted by thoughts of you.” Obi-Wan paused his menstruations, his eyes darting to meet hers.

“You were thinking about me?” 

“Well, yes–” “Why?” She grew flustered, a growing pain pounding in her chest, sharp and yet harsh. Her hands began to sweat as she started to wring them out like some old tunic on washing day, her eyes swooping to avoid his ever piercing-blue gaze.

“I don’t know, why were you thinking about me!” She retorted.

It was one of the few times Obi-Wan got speechless and she could not help but gleam with pride at catching his tongue. She knew this trait would probably die with age, the older her got the further he became closer to the title of a silver tongued master, however she knew she would look back on this moment and know she had trumped him at his own game.

“I–” However, he never got a singular thought out, as Qui-Gon began to shout Obi-Wan’s name like he were some incessant father trying to find his son after a long game of hide-and-go-seek.

Obi-Wan cursed under his breath, a moment of panic coursing through him, but when he looked back from the door to Rhea, she was gone, and he once again was alone, feeling a strange and overwhelming sense of sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea tried to continue her day as usual, but her gut instinct inside of her told her that there was something more to her apparent Force projection than it just being that. No... she knew there was something more to this event that had just occurred in not only her life, but Obi-Wan’s. Everything felt like it was going to change.

Unfocused in her training with Mace Windu, he scolded her throughout the day, noting her lack of focus and charging her with consistent complaints about her lack of balance. 

How could she feel balanced? How was she supposed to feel balance after she lacked control over her own capabilities through the Force? How could she feel balance when it had alluded her since the day her Master abandoned her for a life without her as his apprentice? 

How could she feel balance without anyone there to guide her? “The Force, guide you, it will.” 

Rhea nearly ran over Master Yoda who now stood in the Temple’s halls in front of her, smiling just as knowingly as he had every day she could remember. 

“Master Yoda, I didn’t see you there.” “Loud your thoughts are. Many things on your mind, are there not?” 

Rhea could not help but feel guilty and caught. Surely though, Master Yoda could be the one to help her. She had so many questions weighing her down, aching to be asked, and yet she felt ashamed to even think them to herself. Now, it seemed that there were those who were listening. 

“Master, I just feel so lost.”

Yoda hummed, chuckling to himself as if he held all the secrets of the world to himself and would just become amused by the ongoings of the beings around him.

“Come with me, you will.” Yoda motioned for her to follow him, as he guided her toward the meditation room. He sat down on a small chair meant for younglings, and she sat adjacent from him, not really knowing if a meditation session was going to help. After all, it’s what got her into this conundrum.

“Close you eyes. Focus not on your surroundings, but the Force.”

Rhea breathed in, breathed out, closing her eyes as she began to let go of her surroundings, allowing them to fade away. 

“See what is in the Force that troubles you, and tell me what it is.” 

She wasn’t sure if she should reach out again. What if she connected with another Jedi like she had with Obi-Wan? But surely, that would not happen. She had been thinking of him, just as she was now.

Images then began to flow through her mind. A beautiful green planet under siege by the droid armies of the Separatists, a cloaked man with a red lightsaber watching over her as she slept, Dooku the day he left her without even looking behind, her connection with Obi-Wan earlier that morning, him falling...

“I see the droid armies invading Naboo.. A Sith watching over me. Dooku leaving the Jedi Order.... and..”

“More there is?”

“Yes..” Rhea whispered, but she couldn’t focus on the grainy voice of Yoda. She kept reaching out, as if pulling the Force towards her like a rope, trying to yank it so it would release all of its secrets it was holding from her.

And into the Force she fell.

Everything around her was blurry, she couldn’t focus on anything except the strength of the Dark Side coursing before her. It was Obi-Wan. And he had given into all of his anger and hatred, an overwhelming tsunami of darkness coating every inch of him and not it began to creep upon her, splashing her with the emotions flowing out of him.

No, he cannot give into this. She thought, watching as he fell into the pool of darkness waiting to swallow him whole.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

His master was dead. 

Obi-Wan watched as Qui-Gon crumpled to the floor, and he screamed in agony as he was trapped behind the laser shield, hopelessly witnessing the death of his Master.  And he could not help the growing rage and hatred that began to engulf his entire being, becoming greater with each second as he practically jumped, ready for the laser shield to move so he could slaughter this hunter before him, this Sith, this darkness.

His face twitched, his mouth curling downward into a snarl, complete loathe shining in his eyes which now darkened as he turned his gaze upon the Dathomirian. 

The Sith trailed before him like some wild beast waiting for its prey, stalking like some dark creature.

A moment before the laser shields even began to move once again, Obi-Wan ignited his lightsaber, seconds before a red bladed lightsaber was ignited as well. The shields moved, and Obi-Wan raised his saber, going to strike the beast of red and darkness down, going to strike for the kill out of the rage and hatred in his heart.

The darkness was consuming him, but Obi-Wan did not care. How could he care now? His master was dead, and this creature seemed a powerful foe within the Force, something that should be put down for the sake of the Republic and the safety of its citizens.... something that should pay for its crimes against the Jedi, it’s crimes against him.

He blocked every twist and twirl it made with its lightsaber, blocking its attacks by pushing back against it with more fervent and less coordinated attacks. If he could only strike it down... 

Obi-Wan lifted his lightsaber, slashing through the center of its double-bladed saber, cutting the pieces in half as one went out. He flipped over the creature, slashing at his center and sorrowfully missing him by an inch. 

This creature was quick, but he had to be quicker, he had to be. What would his Master say if he failed him? What would Rhea say if he were to fall, just as Qui-Gon had moments ago? He would not dare break a promise to her.

The creature kicked him in the face, but he did not let it affect him, instead holding out his lightsaber in front of him, looking for the best place to strike him down.  As their blades locked, Obi-Wan gritted his teeth as he pushed against the creature, his eyes glaring deeply into those sickly-yellow ones, now pushing down against his blade. Anger filled him, and rage too, however, the Sith lifted its hand, using the Force and propelling him across the room, and into the shaft. Obi-Wan grabbed ahold of a light as he began to fall, holding on for dear life as the Sith once again began to trail above him, stalking like a creature in the night. He watched helplessly as it kicked his lightsaber down into the shaft, the weapon, his life, now falling down just as hopelessly as he felt. 

Obi-Wan had to keep on holding on. He had to get back up there, he had to avenge his Master’s death. 

No.

As the Sith caused sparks to rain down from above onto him, attempting to get him to lose grip and fall, Obi-Wan could hear her speaking to him.

Do not give into the darkness. Do not give into the anger or hate. Rise above.

A second voice this time came.

Trust only in the Force.

Qui-Gon.

Rise above. 

And for a moment, Obi-Wan closed his eyes. Rhea was there, almost floating before him, but he couldn’t see anything around her, only she was in his mind. 

I will stand together with you. Rise above. 

“It occurred to Obi-Wan then, with a clarity that was startling, given the dark side hurricane howling through him, that Yoda was wrong about the dangers of attachment. Or at least that he wasn’t altogether right. It was true that attachment could weaken a Jedi’s resolve. But it could also strengthen it … as he was strengthened now by his love for Qui-Gon, and Rhea. Without them he would have failed long before this moment. And so, leaning on them, he continued to fight.”

And so, Obi-Wan opened his eyes, using the Force to propel him upwards as he jumped, landing behind the Sith and now focusing his energy, not through the Dark Side, but now back through the Force, allowing it to guide him now. Qui-Gon’s fallen lightsaber now flew into his hand as he landed, and with a swift movement of his wrist, Obi-Wan cut through the Dathomirian man, ending the terrors he had caused, as he fell down the shaft, thus causing yet another fall in the rise of the Sith.

For a moment he stood and just breathed, thanking the Force for his strength found in his love for his Master and friend.

Obi-Wan, sensing his Master’s lifeforce still flickering within him, ran to his side, cradling his head as gently as he could, holding onto some form of hope that his Master could still live. 

“It’s... it’s too late.”

“No, no!” 

“Obi-Wan..” Qui-Gon croaked, as best he could, the color draining from his face slowly, marking him with death as his lifeforce continued to flicker, dimming with each passing second. “Promise... promise me you will train the boy.”

“Yes, master..” Obi-Wan wept in response. Qui-Gon raise his hand to wipe his tears, and Obi-Wan rested his cheek lightly against his finger, wishing that this wasn’t the end.

“He is... the Chosen One. He will bring balance. Train him. Help him. You and Rhea must help him....”

Obi-Wan now momentarily forgot his grief, filled with confusion at the mention of his friend. 

“Rhea and I? Master, what do you–”

“There is more to the prophecy than what you know..”

“What, Master, I–”

Qui-Gon hushed him, before uttering his final words. “Train him.” He uttered his final breath, and Obi-Wan, cradling him, felt as if he were destined for some infinite sadness.

╔═━────━▒ ۞ ▒━────━═╗

Rhea supposed Naboo was a truly beautiful planet, one to behold amongst the galaxy, but it seemed so bleak and somber now with the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. 

She watched the pyre his body laid upon gather with flames that rose to meet the stars in the sky, the smoke dancing among the small lights glittering above.

Standing beside the young boy from Tatooine who introduced himself as Anakin Skywalker, she listened silently to the loss of sound in the Force that was Qui-Gon’s lifeforce. They all felt it, the small darkness that passed over them at the loss of such a wise Jedi.

Obi-Wan stood on the other side of Anakin, who looking up to him, asked, “What will happen to me now?”

“The council has granted me permission to train you. You will be a Jedi, I promise.”

Rhea still could not believe that Obi-Wan had not only become a Jedi Knight, but had also defeated and killed a Sith lord. How they had come to rise again, was still a mystery, but it caused a shroud of confusion and chaos to flow through the Force.

It was hard for Rhea to muddle through, her mind now more clouded and confused than ever, the events having transpired seeming to all be connected — Dooku leaving the Order, the Chosen One supposedly being found, the Sith returning, her bond with Obi-Wan...

It all seemed too obvious in her mind to not be connected, but Mace Windu continued to tell her to be mindful of her thoughts, even if he didn’t know of her bond with Obi-Wan, he still saw her point of view as a quick jump to conclusions.

As the procession ended and people began to filter out from the area of the funeral pyre, she stayed even as little Anakin left along with the other Jedi, staying by Obi-Wan’s side, just as she had promised.

“You’re still here.”

He said, nonchalantly, not even bothering to turn to face her.

Rhea looked up, turning her gaze to fixate on his face. He looked... tired, almost old, held down not only by exhaustion but by the overwhelming sense of loss and sadness which was now being carried by the duty he felt to honor his masters final wish.

“Just as I said I would always be. Right by your side.”

He sighed, turning to look down upon her, his blue eyes meeting with her darker ones.

“So, you really were there, speaking to me.”

“I suppose I was.”

The two were silent for a moment, simply staring into each other’s eyes as if understanding everything they wished to say. Rhea reached up, cupping his cheek softly as tears began to fall down his face.

She then got up on her tippy toes, being much shorter than him, and placed a slow kiss on his forehead, soft and lovingly and holding every hope she had within her.

Obi-Wan sighed softly, “We can’t tell anyone about this bond. Not until I have figured out what exactly it is.”

“We.”

“What?”

“Not until we have figured out what exactly it is. We’re in this together. I told you this already, but you don’t seem to be getting it through your thick skull. I stand by you. Always.”