A Flight Risk With A Fear Of Falling
a flight risk with a fear of falling
pairing: commander Wolffe / fem reader
Word count: two.4K
Tags/warnings: mostly fluff and hurt/comfort, but suggestive at times. Sketchy fair rides, fear of falling summary: you and Wolffe attend a local fair. You have a great time, all goes well, until you’re stuck at the top of the Ferris wheel and are pretty convinced that you’re about to fall and die. Notes: reader is implied to be visually impaired here. However, of course, that does not mean you won’t enjoy if you’re not. This was just based off of a real life experience I had, and I couldn’t imagine writing it and the fear I felt without blindness being incorporated into it. Title is based off of the lyrics of mine by Taylor Swift.
You aren’t afraid of heights.
And really, you think, it would be silly for you to be, considering how little vision you have to look down at the world as it whizzes beneath you as you fly by.
You and Wolffe had eagerly scrambled to get on the roller coasters with the highest peaks with barely a second thought, been on the drop zone more than once in a row, and the whole time, you had only been screaming with delight and adrenaline fuelled anticipation, your commander only rolling his eyes fondly, unable to conceal the upward curve of his lips or the crinkle of amusement between his eyes as they gleam, bearing witness to your unbridled display of excitement with quiet satisfaction.
“As much as I love watching you becoming a little speed demon, meshla,” he says lowly, tucking you beneath his arm as you stumble, slightly woozy and breathless after your most recent ride, “maybe we should take a break from these.”
He indicates the line of brightly coloured roller coasters that stretch in front of you, loud Carnival Style music blaring from many of them, accompanied by the ambiance of constant shrieks as they speed above.
“Are you saying you wouldn’t love me if I threw up all over your new boots?” You ask with a pout, letting your head drop against his chest with a sigh.
“That’s not what I said,” he chides, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “But do you really want to share a speeder with me on the way home if I smell like that?” he gives you a slight poke, and you wrinkle your nose with a shake of your head.
“Fiine,” you say with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Boost told me that a wolf plushy is up as a prize at one of the games. We should try and win it, to show some pride for the Wolfpack, you know?.”
His lips pull into a slight smirk as he gazes down at you. “Aren’t you actually suggesting that I should waste our precious tokens on a game that is probably a scam to try and win it for you?” he huffs, folding his arms across his chest as he gives you a playful scowl with a raised eyebrow. “Because no offense, but I don’t think your skill set lies in aiming rings at bottles, meshla,” he remarks, brushing a slight kiss against the tip of your nose.
Your pout transforms into a full on grin. “Yes, that’s exactly what I meant,” you confirm, completely unashamedly, with an enthusiastic nod. “You win the game, and I’ll be your personal cheerleader.”
“Hm,” Wolffe tilts his head, considering. “That would be more tempting if you were wearing the outfit,” he says, voice dropping, fingers lazily trailing down your side, idly making their path to your waist.
Your breath catches and you smack his arm playfully. “I don’t have a cheerleader outfit,” you announce, with a toss of your hair, placing a hand on your hip
You raise yourself up onto your tiptoes, leaning in and letting your own voice drop suggestively with a teasing smirk. “But, if you win the game, I’ll make sure that the night ends with my outfit scattered on the floor.”
There’s a moment of dead silence, tension crackling in the air as Wolffe’s eyes rake over your form, both hands reaching out to settle against your hips.
Then, he unexpectedly hoists you up into his arms, causing you to squeak with surprise, steadying your self by grasping at his shoulders as your eyes dance.
“Teasing little thing,” he hums, breath inches away from your ear as he speaks, making you shiver. “I’ll do it, then. But you better be prepared for us to lose all of our tokens on this, sweetheart.”
*
When he does actually manage to win, you’re pleasantly surprised.
Not because you had any doubt in him, of course. But because you genuinely believed that all of the fair games were scams. Wolffe is ceaseless in his determination, though, as evidenced by the very limited amount of tokens you have left. He lines up each shot with as much precision as you imagine he does on the battlefield, his natural confidence in his abilities riling up the games supervisors, as with their increasing befuddlement, they try to make it harder for him, especially, in the end, when his confidence is proven to be not unfounded in the slightest.
“Here you are, ner cyar,” he says, easy smile on his lips as he passes you the very large, gray wolf stuffed animal.
“Thank you,” you say excitedly, wrapping your arms around the plushy and jumping up to give Wolffe a chaste kiss.
Your lips pull into a smirk, holding up the stuffed animal with pride. “Looks like I’ve got a new favourite cuddle buddy, Wolffe,” you tease. “You were great, but, I think I just found your replacement,” you chuckle, and are abruptly cut off when swiftly, Wolffe reaches out, effortlessly plucking the wolf from your arms and holding him high above your head.
“Don’t even joke about that, meshla,” he warns, tauntingly dangling him just out of your reach as you desperately try to grab for him. “Uh uh,” he tsks, look of mock disapproval settling over his features as he holds the plushy above your head by his ear. “You take that back first, and I’ll give him back to you.”
You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Lucky for you, the stuffed wolf won’t be able to replace you as the big spoon. So please, can I have him back?”
“Good,” he says, smug smile on his face. Gently, he drops the stuffed animal, taking care to make sure that he lands in your arms without incident.
“We still have a few tokens,” you report, counting over the admittedly meagre supply. “We should go on the ferris wheel.”
“I hope you’re not trying to put off us going home so that I don’t get as much time to partake in the other part of the winnings you promised me,” he quips, tilting his head quizzically.
“Of course not,” you defend, holding up the last ride tokens. “I just don’t want these to go to waste. Besides, I’ve never been on one before.”
Wolffe gives you a grin, suddenly mischievous, pulling your arm through his and bending his elbow almost out of habit, so that he can guide you.
“I haven’t either,” he admits, beginning to walk. “Let’s fix that for both of us.”
*
You are not afraid of heights.
This, you are now reminding yourself, quite sternly as the ferris wheel lifts you higher and higher by degree.
And maybe, you rationalize, that is still true. Because though watching the world blurring out of focus below you with your already limited vision is, unsettling, to say the least. It’s really the Ferris wheel itself, with one support bar around your waist being the only thing that stops you from plummeting face first Back down to the Earth below.
Being blind can alter or throw off your sense of balance and centre of gravity, and although this isn’t something you’re reminded of often, this is one of the times where it hits you full on, how unsteady you are, how close to teetering and falling all the way down you feel, even if, logically, you know the odds of that happening are small. You can’t convince your brain of that, so you freeze up completely, thinking that if you don’t move, that if you don’t even breathe, it’ll make it easier.
It doesn’t.
“What’s wrong?”
Wolffe is watching you, eyes intent, observant. At first, you’re not entirely sure as to what has tipped him off to your impending sense of doom. But then, looking down, finding that your hand has locked itself around his with an iron grip, you suppose it’s quite obvious. What’s more, your other arm is tightly wrapped around the stuffed wolf he won for you at the ring toss, your face hiding against its soft fur, eyes squeezed shut.
At your lack of response, he shifts, wanting to get a better look at you. Unfortunately, though, this causes the cart you’re into jostle, and even though the movement is slight and fleeting, you still let out a noise of distress, eyes going wide.
“Are you, scared of heights?” He asks, voice slightly incredulous and tentative.
You shake your head vehemently in denial. “No, no, it’s not that. It’s, I.”
You’re cut off as the wheel begins to move again, pulling you closer to the top before stopping. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you think that the sun must be about to set, and it must be a nice view, for those who can appreciate it. For those who don’t feel like they’re about to die right now.
“It’s not how high we are, Wolffe,” you try to explain, hating the way that your voice comes out in more of a whimper as you stare down at the ground. “It’s just I just feel like I’m going to fall. It it would be so easy,” you point with a shaking hand at the support bar, distrustful. “And what if something goes wrong and I...” you trail off, eyes blurring with unshed tears, to your utter mortification.
“It it’s not like the roller coasters, Wolffe,” you try to explain, clutching at the stuffed animal in your lap with anxiety. “On those, I didn’t have time to think about falling.”
All sense of logic and rationality has fled your mind like birds, leaving you feeling unstable, each heartbeat that pounds within the cage of your chest convincing you further that the slightest breeze is going to push you off, send you falling down off this precarious ride and to your certain demise.
A single tear tracks its way down your cheek and carefully, Wolffe raises a hand to gently wipe it away. “Oh, ner cyar,” he breathes, movements slow and deliberate as he reaches out towards you, keeping it cautious, predictable, so that you know exactly what he’s doing. “C’mere,” he coos at you softly, arm reaching around you to easily pull you to him.
His other hand delicately smooths over your hair, before settling to cradle the back of your head, securely tucking you against his chest.
Miraculously, the feeling of his body, protective as it curls around you, Creating a safe cocoon for you to nestle in, Immediately begins to ease the all consuming fear inside your bones. Somehow, you feel less unsteady, isolated, and on the verge of falling as soon as he’s safely tucked you in his arms.
“Do you think I’m gonna let you fall, ad’ika?” He asks, voice a low rumble as he looks down at you, the stuffed animal comfortably wedged between the both of you.
The feeling of his strong arms holding you securely against his broad chest, the way his heart is beating steadily against your ear, is much more reassuring than the seemingly flimsy support bar, and your intrusive thoughts. In spite of yourself, you find your muscles beginning to unwind, melting into him as one of his hands, large and warm, caresses over your back, pressing firm, grounding circles in between your shoulder blades.
“N no,” you say, unable to conceal the slight tremor that runs through you as the ferris wheel moves again. “B but what if.”
“Shh, meshla, focus,” he gently Chides, redirecting you’re over thinking mind back to him, giving one of your shoulders a slight squeeze of encouragement. “I want you to close your eyes, and breathe, and all you have to do is focus on me, alright? Nothing else, just you and me, right here,” he continues, voice a calm, steady stream.
You give him a small, shaky nod, before turning your face against his chest, relieved when you can no longer see the world growing smaller when you’re tucked against him like this. Slowly, hesitantly, you let your eyes close, and you’re surprised and relieved to find that the impending sense of dread is beginning to fade.
You’re rewarded with Wolffe lowering, a slight dip of his chin, peppering several kisses to the top of your head as he holds you tightly. “Good girl,” he praises, voice a quiet breath against your ear.
The ferris wheel begins to move again and before you’re given time to think about it, he speaks, derailing the panicked thoughts that begin to stir.
“Your hair is so pretty,” he remarks, slowly running his fingers through the strands. “And so soft,” he murmurs, dropping another kiss to your head. “How do you get it to be like that?”
Somehow, your lips pull into a small smile. “With a lot of work,” you mumble with a slight laugh and shrug.
“And?” He prods, lightly poking you in the side. “I want details, meshla. Give me your full routine, with the products you use. Give me a step-by-step guide.”
You know that he probably doesn’t actually care. You know he’s making you talk to distract you from the movements of the ferris wheel around you. In spite of that, though, you give in, beginning to speak and explain exactly how you maintain your hair.
To his credit, he seems to be listening attentively to everything you’re saying, eyes never leaving you as you speak, always prompting you with questions when you seem to not know what else to say.
Before you know it, the wheel has brought your cart to the ground, and an attendant is releasing the support bar from around the both of you, allowing you to get down.
Wolffe clambers out first, getting down to offer you a hand, helping you down off the attraction. Taking one look at the expression on your face, he wordlessly holds out his elbow, beginning to guide you both towards the fairgrounds exit.
“Are you that eager to get us home so that you can claim your winnings?” You ask teasingly as he pulls you behind him with long, purposeful strides.
He stops, turns to face you and catches your chin in his hand, tilting your face up to look at him as he idly runs a calloused thumb over your bottom lip, causing goosebumps to rise on your upper arms.
“Hm,” he says, expression contemplative as his other hand grazes down your side, experimentally dipping beneath the material of your top to trace teasing circles against your hip.
“Truth be told, meshla,” he muses, the low baritone of his voice slightly husky with desire. “I think you’re the one who deserves rewarding tonight.”
Your face breaks into a smile, even as you arch against his touch, with your breath catching in your throat.
“Well,” you start to say, finding you have to swallow several times as a blush creeps into your cheeks before you can respond properly.
“I certainly won
More Posts from Midnightoncoruscant and Others
Oh as the owner of the worlds coldest feet (and terroriser of my husband with them) - I absolutely adore this. I can feel Alpha’s grump through the screen which is brilliant. Thank you so much for sharing this delightful piece of wintertime goodness.
PS is it bad I would let Alpha get away with doing no housework. Like he could just sit there and look pretty???
So I wasn't going to do ANY winter fics until after my Birthday (I just hate Christmas before my birthday, sorry) but I wrote this fic and 🤣 Well, truth be told...it's just me tormenting Alpha (lovingly) through Reader 🤣🤣🤣
So I thought you'd all enjoy reading this.
This is also a fic for @clone-wars-winter-challenge using prompts "I'm cold" and Fluffy Blanket I just happened to pick Alpha, I know he doesn't count towards prompts
P.s. I decided to use my winter/'xmas' (Yule) divider since it will be part of that masterlist on my blog. Plus I probably won't have too many this year 😅
Warnings: Reader is referred to a she once, has hair long enough to cover their face and wears panties+nightshirt to bed. Established relationship, lots of silliness, poor Alpha is tortured via cold feet, suggestive - spice that fades to black but nothing explicit. Reader likes to annoy Alpha and Alpha likes to pretend he hates every second of it. Alpha is soft and twitterpated, but definitely sounds harsher at first. Dialogue prompt is in blue!
Cold Feet Lead to Bedtime Heat
Alpha-17 x Reader
You slowly closed down your residence, ensuring all the doors were locked, all the curtains were drawn, that the designated "safety" light above your stove was left on, and that your elderly tooka had not only fresh water and kibble, but that you took his fluffy blanket out of the dryer and bunched it up on your lover's favourite chair for the old boy - he loved sleeping there but this time of year always left him colder. Especially now nearing the end of his life. And with a goodnight kiss pressed to the mostly black feline, you headed straight to your bedroom
"Finally done?" you lover mumbled, still awake and reading something on his datapad.
One hand holding said pad and scrolling with his thumb, while the other held a still steaming mug of either cocoa or cider, you weren't sure which but it didn't really matter. Both tasted good on his lips in your opinion.
"Well, if you helped get the house ready for bed...then I wouldn't take so long" you teased shimmying out of your clothes
"And miss this view?" came the appreciative hum as you bent to reach into your drawers "Not on your life"
You snorted at the flirt and continued to gather new pjs, trying to ignore the heat that stoked just enough to let you know it had returned
"One of these days, you're going to have to come up with something better as an excuse" you said as you pulled the nightshirt over your head
"Right" he nodded curtly, his attention darting back to the datapad
"And what will it be then? hmm?" you urged with a hunch of what he'd turn to next
"How about 'I'm too old'?" he mumbled before taking another sip
"Not too old to tackle me into the bed and enjoy hours of passion, but too old to help close down the home you share with me?" you asked turning around to face him
"Absolutely" there was a hint of a smirk on his lips as he peeked back up at you "You coming in here or what?"
A mischievious smile grew on your lips as you rushed the bed and grasped at the blankets, but before you could yank them up, his heavy hand slapped at them
"Oh no. I know that look. You are not putting your cold ass feet on me again" he growled, quickly setting his mug on the bedside table, knowing full well what happens if he has to move quickly with it and not wanting to deal with the mess that it leads to.
"Whaaaat? Nooo" you drew out acting as innocent as possible "My darling, I would never....!"
"'My darling', my shebs. I know you too kriffing well Cyare." he pointed his finger at you accusingly "Not. Tonight"
The stare down of the century too place between you both before you whined and pouted - technically giving up but not surrendering to the mini war effort, just conceeding the singular battle
Alpha stared at you for a good few more minutes, suspicious of your play - and rightfully so. Because you were still bound determined to get him.
But when you dramatically fell across the blankets about to lament about how cruel your lover was and how much be truly must no longer love you
"Get in bed," the large clone scoffed, hiding his smile well "Don't start that up again. It's late."
He flipped back a portion of the blankets - which there were a total of 5, three normal and two super fluffy, on your shared bed - to invite you in
"Hurry up, the heat I procured is leaving" he grumbled
Knowing better than to make him wait in a situation like this - nor wanting to sit in the frigid air with your only panty-covered ass out, you dove into the blankets.
Quickly your body sunk into the mattress as you sighed loudly. Then you wiggled - er perhaps thrashed controllably are the better descriptors- in the sheets to get comfy. Entirely ignoring Alpha's sounds of displeasure at being jostled with you, knowing he found it amusing more than annoying. You did so until you had successfully buried yourself in the bedding
"All done?" he called softly, peeking at the hole left behind in your wake
"Yes...!" you practically purred in delight "I'm nice and cozy now"
Your dear beloved chuckled deeply and nodded, leaning back to his side of the bed to reach for his mug
"That's go-"
With a sudden glimmer of miacheif returning to your eyes, you ripped your legs to the side and settled your freezing bare feets along his thighs, inciting a shout and the mug to drop back against the table top.
"SON OF A-" He yelled then quickly reached under the blankets to rip your feet off him "THE KRIFF IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"
You didn't respond, too busy cackling and gasping for air as you did so. Your legs trying their best to out maneuver him and touch your feet to his bare skin again - hopefully somewhere with more heat.
But just as you freed one foot from his strong grip and was a mere cm from touching the apex of his thighs-
"I don't karking think so!" he growled, rolling ontop of you and pinning your hand on either side of your head.
In the process of the movement he'd tangled the blankets around you and trapped you alone within them, his bare form now out of the covers and in full display for your greedy gaze.
His annoyance melted into a huff of pout once he noticed he'd lost all the heat and you had successfully stolen it all.
"Brat" he practically spat the word, although his eyes creased with an adoration at your annoying but adorable grin on your lips.
His eyes drifted to the mass of messy hair tangled about your face and parcially obscuring you, your glittering-with-giddiness irises that had entirely abandoned meeting his in favour to oogle.
"You're lucky I love you" he grumbled, leaning in and working his face through the tendrils of hair to get to your lips amd kiss you breifly "Now, I'm cold"
"Ah well, you see" you cooed softly, chasing after his lips "I happen to have this excess of heat here...and I would just love someone to snuggle with and share it with me"
"Oh really," he grumbled sarcastically "What a coincidence"
You giggled loudly again
"And I wouldn't mind making more heat...if it meant I got a certain pair of nice, strong arms around me"
"Of course" he chuckled "You also wouldn't happen to be looking for a chest to use later for your pillow...would you"
Alpha watched as you dramatically gasped in mock surprise
"Why yes! It's as if you read my very mind, good sir!"
Your lover snorted at your words and hung his head
"Why are you like this" he chuckled out
"Because you love me like this" you answered, but then added when you saw his head shake "And because I was specifically made just for you"
"Oh wow" came the sarcastic reply "Who could've forseen that. Someone created just for me when she was born well before me"
You both struggled a bit at the blankets to let him back inti their warmth - which you promptly wrapped your arms around his neck and gazed lovingly up at him.
"I combat all the bad, awful and sad things you went through" you whisper "I make sure the rest of your days are full of stupid shenanigans, laughter and love"
With a tender look filling his gaze and a smile unashamedly posessing his lips, Alpha pinned you to the mattress once mire. However, this time it was full of gentility and sweetness.
"I think I can stomach that" he whispered "So long as you're alright stomaching a grouchy, cold man who's seen too much"
"Funny, I was just telling my two best friends that, that is just the very specific, hard to find kind of man I need" you whispered in return as he pulled the warm blankets around you both further and further to obscure you both from the galaxy
"Funny" he answered lips just above your own
"A man like that, who hides just how tender and loving he can be" your lashes flicked down as your gaze left his in favour of staring at his lips
"I'll see if I can suffer to oblige, Cyare" he breathed out, his lips moving against your own until the words became muffled with the kiss you both shared.
The kiss that quickly grew into that heat you both wanted so desperately.
Winter Solstice Masterlist
Yule dividers by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
You are so kind ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
I’m envisioning Papa Plo as a Mr Bennett figure, patiently trying to shepherd the wolf pack through polite society whilst Waxer and Boil attend every ball in high spirits like Kitty and Lydia Bennett.
Wolffe meanwhile stands back from polite society, reserved and alone and worries for the fortunes of his brothers once the war ends. His closest confidant, his brother Fox, has moved to London to support the Prime Minister in the war effort but Wolffe fears for him too as a darkened shadow of the ministers influence falls over Parliament.
Originally this was supposed to be Wolffe x reader where you're at a party enjoying goodies with Papa Plo and the Wolfpack...but it didnt stay that way 🤣
P.s. Thank you @dystopicjumpsuit (and the Plo simps) for coming to the conclusion Plo bakes good cookies!
Using the prompt Holiday Cookies for @clone-wars-winter-challenge !
Warnings: mentions of sw typical violence and treatment of clones, papa plo is nosy, reader has no formal pronouns but is a strategist, secret relationship, 1 mention of children. If I missed something lemme know
Buir's Cookies
Wolffe x Reader
When you'd been invited to the temple by general Plo Koon, you originally had thought it was because you were in trouble. Perhaps you had given the wrong maps, calculated the wrong trajectory, anticipated the wrong strategy for a battle...perhaps your battle plan had resulted in a great loss - though you never got any report saying such...
Regardless, you put on your best clothes, did yourself up the best and most professional-ish way you could and made your way over.
You'd never been in the temple before, only ever saw glimpses of it from afar. So standing at the enterance now, amongst the excessively large statues...well you'd be lying if you said you had nerves of beskar and that you totally didn't leave your stomach behind right then and there.
Thankfully, General Plo had decided to wait for you at the mouth of a long walkway, either side showcasing just how large and ornate the temple was
"I was beginning to think you had not received my message" his tone left little error to beleive he was anything but teasing
"I'm so sorry general, I...I've never been to the temple" you admitted a bit robotically
"It's quite alright, I can see how the temple is daunting to one who has never stepped foot on its premisies." he explained with a smile to his voice "You'd be surrpised how many younglings end up crying upon seeing it fir the first time"
"Really?" you asked in surprise "I always thought they could sense it was their spot"
"Really" he confirmed turning anf beginning to walk "this way"
You hurried to follow in step with the Kel Dor
"Younglings often are unsure about the temple at first, everything they knew before is gone and this is what they are brought to in return. I try to avoid the front entrance if I am bringing a little one in" he explained as you walked "We are going to one of the gardens, I hope you do not mind"
"Not at all, General" you said quickly, not wanting to offend
"You can relax, you are not in trouble" Plo chuckled, having sensed your nervousness through the force - or perhaps just from having been alive so long he's learned to pick that up in anyone...
"The garden we're going to is encased, so you won't have to worry about the biting air" the jedi added sweetly
"I appreciate that"
You followed him down a few more corridors, making small chit chat along the way, before he paused at an archway and gestured for you to enter first.
The moment you stepped inside, you felt overcome with a tremendous awe. It was like a small, tamed forset within! Plants littered most of the space, in all their glory - be that hanging along trelisses or shooting straight up, proud and tall or as sweeping sprawls of colour. Each plant looked unique yet somehow they all seemed to fit perfectly with one another as if they were always meant to have been that way - nor did they appear groomed, somehow existing perfectly without a single blemish or weed.
"This is beautiful!" You exclaimed, gawking at all around you
"I thought you would appreciate this garden over a sitting room" the jedi beamed as he followed in behind you "I've set a table for us to sit at while we chat"
You smiled and followed your general to a small but ornate looking garden table with three chairs. The table's surface was covered in sweet pasteries and somehow had a teapot and three cups squeezed within.
You raised your brow at the third setting but dismissed it as you took the seat he offered you and watched as he settled upon the other side
"I wanted to thank you for being such a valuable asset to us all" he began softly, as he poured you each a cup
"I'm just doing my job" you defended softly
"You do much more than that" he insisted "You spend hours pouring over information and only ever suggest strategies once you are entirely sure. You never leave opportunity to let my men faulter without a back up plan...or three"
You blinked in surprise, you hadn't noticed he paid that much attention to your efforts to keep him and the wolfpack safe...
"Cookie?" he settled the kettle down and waved his hand above the array of shapes and flavours
It was a bit overwhelming if you were entirely honest, but they all looked so absolutely delicious...
Nodding, you reached and grabbed a dark vermillion coloured cookie that was cresent moon shaped. Bringing it to your mouth, you paused noticing his attention zeroed in on your reaction
"Go on," he urged gently "Let me know how it is"
You peeked at the cookie, briefly wondering if you were about to be poisioned and that is how jedi fire people from the grand army of the republic...but then you took a bite
"This is really, really good general..." you mumbled, cheek full of cookie
"Good, I'm glad" he beamed, an unseen grin plastered to his face
You took a sip of your tea and then took another bite of your cookie
"Now, what are you intentions towards my dear Commander Wolffe?"
You froze at the sudden ask. Not only because of its nature but his unreadably guarded tone
"I...uh..."
Your mind raced a mile a minute, as did your heart, as panic begun to flood your system. How did he know? How long has he known? You and Wolffe both thought you were being extra careful around one another. Wary to not let on to the nature of your relations. Nobody knew about your sneaking off to see him and vice versa. About the passionate nights or the stolen kisses - right?
"General?"
Your head whipped to the right, where you'd entered the gardens, to find your beloved commander standing there with his helmut in his hands
"You...called me here...?" his mismatched gaze settled on you and for a brief second his eyes widened before he returned his attention to your shared jedi general
"Yes. Wolffe, come here" Plo urged sweetly, patted the third seat settled between your forms. "I have a spot for you as well"
You felt sweat begin to pool on your body as you watched Wolffe cooly made his way over, settled into his seat and place his helmut upon his lap
"I wasn't aware we were having a strategy meeting..." he mumbled already reaching for a cookie, clearly this was a norm with the two
"Oh you aren't...I am" Plo admitted while pouring Wolffe some tea as well
"I'm...I'm sorry sir?" Wolffe gawked
"I hope you are" The jedi huffed, setting the kettle down once more "I'm tired of you two thinking you can hide this from me"
Both you and Wolffe sat a bit straighter, wanting to glance to the other for assistance but unable and unwilling to risk showing your hands more than you already had.
"I have been alive for a very, very long time" Plo explained in a gentle yet scolding tone "Did you two think I cannot see? I am not blind behind these pressurized goggles"
The tease did nothing to ease either your nor your beloved's nerves and upon seeing such, the Kel Dor sighed
"I have no intention of punishing either of you, but I must know" he then turned to pointedly look at you "Do you love Wolffe?"
Your heart pounded in your ears and your emotions began to overwhelm you as panic left you unable to respond
"I see, I picked the wrong one to start with" Plo muttered under his breath then turned to his commander "Wolffe? Do y-"
"Yes" Your lover's words came forth as suddenly and sure as his hand had reached under the table to hold your own trembling one
You gasped softly at his unabashed or faultered words, watching him as any and all air left your lungs at his proclamation
Unseen to you, Plo relished in the emotions he was sensing through the force. Your utter surprise and delight, Wolffe's determination and honesty. Then watched as Wolffe turned to you and said in a more tender tone
"I'm in love with you"
Your heart felt as if it would burst any moment as you took in the most wonderful information you'd ever been privy to
"Well...? What do we say....?"
You barely heard Plo's encouragement but felt compelled to admit your own feelings aloud. The ones you'd kept locked away and only allowed to leak out in affectionate actions, but never words
"...I love you, Wolffe..." you whispered
You watched as his eyes creased and grew soft as he gazed down at you, his hand squeezing your own breifly before moving to tangle your fingers together
"Well...now that is settled..." Plo breathed in releif before asked as if he were relaying a scandalous secret "When am I to expect my grandbabies?"
"G-General!"
Plo laughed gleefully at both your young, flushed faces. Perhaps that was a question that should have been reserved for another time with more cookies...
Winter Solstice Fics Masterlist
Yule dividers by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
This is INCREDIBLE.
what genre would their album be tho? This pic, among with some other stuff is up on my Patreon in high res if you're interested ✨
THIS IS GORGEOUS- so soft and wonderful and I need Wrecker to have his happy ever after so badly ❤️❤️
Wrecker x shop keeper reader
*Based on Pabu*
⸻
Your little sushi shop didn’t look like much from the outside—just a corner nook with faded sea-blue paint and a handwritten chalkboard menu—but it was yours. A quiet dream built on fish markets, rice steamers, and the salty Pabu breeze.
And it had one very big, very loud, very lovable regular.
Wrecker.
He first stumbled in by accident, really. Something about Omega spotting the place and dragging him along with promises of “raw fish and weird seaweed rolls” she wanted to try.
You remembered watching him duck to fit through the doorway, nearly taking the paper lantern with him. The moment he sat on the cushion—you swore it gave up the ghost. You’d nearly burst out laughing. So had Omega.
And yet, after one massive order (three rolls, two bowls of rice, and miso soup he drank straight from the pot), he patted his stomach and declared it the “best food I ever had that didn’t come in a ration pack or get cooked over a fire by Crosshair!”
He meant it. He kept coming back. Sometimes with Omega, sometimes alone.
And over time… you fell.
It wasn’t sudden. It wasn’t fireworks. It was slow. Like the way he grinned with soy sauce on his cheek. The way he lit up whenever Omega told stories and always listened like every word was gold. The way he tried to use chopsticks and ended up stabbing his sushi like it had wronged him. The way he always complimented your food. Even on the days you messed up the rice.
He sat at the same spot. Always the far left cushion, near the open window where he could watch the sea and keep an eye on Omega playing with the local kids.
He told you stories too. About the Batch. About the war. About planets you’d never heard of and creatures he’d wrestled, often embellishing the size.
“I swear, the thing was this big!” he’d gesture, arms spread wider than your doorway.
You’d laugh. You always laughed.
But lately, it hurt a little. Because you loved him. And you didn’t know if he saw you as anything other than “the sushi girl.” A friend. A safe place. A routine.
You weren’t extraordinary. You didn’t fly ships or fight droids. You didn’t save people or have scars to show for anything but kitchen burns.
You were just… here. Making sushi.
And he was Wrecker.
⸻
It was a quiet evening when he came alone. The sun painted everything in gold, the sea calm and whispering.
You were cleaning up when you heard the familiar grunt of him ducking through the doorway.
“Hey, Wrecker,” you said, smiling softly. “No Omega?”
“She’s off with Hunter. Some market thing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Thought I’d drop by anyway. Got a seat for me?”
“Always.”
He took his spot. You brought out his favorite roll without asking.
You didn’t talk much at first. Just the quiet sound of chopsticks failing and him switching to his fingers after a few tries.
“Y’know,” he said suddenly, “I like it here.”
You paused, halfway to wiping down a table. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. It’s peaceful. And you’re always nice to me. Even when I eat too much.”
You chuckled, heart thumping. “I like having you here.”
He looked up at you then, serious in a way he rarely was.
“I hope this ain’t weird,” he said. “But I think about you. A lot. When I’m not here.”
Your breath caught.
He kept going, nervously, like he was charging into battle. “I don’t really get how all this… love stuff works. But I know how I feel. And I know I wanna be around you more. If that’s okay.”
Your hands were shaking. You smiled, eyes misting over.
“I thought I was just a friend to you,” you whispered.
“Nah,” he said, softly this time. “You’re more.”
He stood, awkwardly towering over the bar, then reached out and touched your hand with his massive, callused fingers.
“Unless you don’t want that. Then I can just keep eatin’ sushi and shuttin’ up.”
You laughed through a tear. “I want that. I’ve wanted that.”
⸻
From then on, nothing changed—and everything did.
Wrecker still sat in the same seat. Still made a mess. Still laughed too loud.
But now he held your hand under the table. Now he walked you home after close, grumbling that he had to make sure you were safe—even on the safest island in the galaxy. Now he left tiny gifts on the counter: shiny shells, carved wood, one time a flower that got squished in his fist but still smelled sweet.
Omega noticed right away, of course. She beamed at you both.
“Took you long enough,” she said, biting into a rice ball. “He talks about you all the time.”
You just smiled and passed her another plate.
Your heart full. Your quiet dream now shared.
⸻
This is perfection - I can feel Gregor’s presence and energy through the screen. I need to know what dark magic I need to do to live inside this fic please and be the object of his adoration. Please and thank you.
All Lost Time
Pairing: Gregor x fem!Reader
Words: 9,547
Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! established relationship, fluff, a little hurt/comfort, smut, oral (f recieving), fingering, face sitting, unprotected sex, pinv, nipple play, multiple orgasms, edging, overstimulation, oral fixation?, marriage and kids talk but no pregnancy kink, Gregor is very chatty during sex but I think we all knew that, and he is head over heels obsessed with reader as he should be
Summary: After months away, Gregor is finally coming home to you. And he's made it his mission to make up for every second you've been apart.
A/N: I blame @cyaretra for this!! This is my first time writing Gregor so be nice to me okay thanks
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It’s silly, you think, that Gregor still makes you feel this way.
You’ve been together for nearly a year now, but every time you see him, the flutter in your stomach and the way your heart starts pounding are as strong as the first time he smiled at you and asked if you wanted to get dinner.
It was an instant attraction. And at first, you couldn’t understand why. You were a communications officer embedded in the Republic Navy, hopping ships month to month, and it wasn’t like you hadn’t been surrounded by clones day in and day out since the war began. You thought yourself immune to their good looks, their charming smiles, and their boyish humor.
But there was something different about Gregor. His eyes lit up when he talked. He had a sense of humor. He had a story. And when the stolen frigate he was on showed up out of the blue in the middle of a battle and fired a full salvo at the Separatist flagship, well...you were smitten. You couldn’t help but find his antics amusing, endearing, and downright attractive.
He asked you out the second time you saw him. The third time, you kissed him.
The fourth, well, things got a little out of control.
Now, standing here in your apartment, counting down the seconds until he arrives, you can hardly believe how quickly the last year has gone by. How, in spite of the constant threat of danger, and the never-ending war, and the fact that you rarely have the time to see each other, he’s still the person you want to spend your time with.
The one who makes you laugh, even in the darkest hours. The one who makes you want to fight just a little bit harder. The one you can call, no matter how late it is, just to hear the sound of his voice.
And the one who can make you feel this excited, this giddy, this happy, just by walking through the door.
The second you hear the soft beep that means someone has punched in the code to your apartment, your heart leaps. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. It doesn't work.
Your heart jumps again when the door slides open.
Gregor steps inside, carrying a duffel bag over his shoulder and looking a bit sheepish. He gives you a shy grin.
You stand there, just staring at him, unsure what to do, afraid that the moment you move, he'll vanish like a mirage.
"Hi," he says softly.
"Hi."
There's a pause. A long one.
And then a huge grin spreads across his face, and a second later, the bag hits the floor with a thud. Gregor crosses the room in two quick strides, sweeping you into his arms. You let out a little yelp of surprise, and he laughs as he peppers your neck and face with kisses.
You can't help but laugh along with him, even as you tell him to stop. You try to wriggle free, but his hold on you is firm. Your squirming only makes him squeeze you tighter, his arms around your waist, his lips traveling up your neck and making you shudder.
"Stop, stop," you say, still laughing.
"Why?" he asks, his mouth pressed against your jaw. "I missed you."
"I can tell," you reply, and you tilt your head to give him better access. "Missed you too"
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and run your fingers through his hair. It's longer than the last time you saw him, and he groans appreciatively as you gently scratch his scalp. His kisses turn softer, more reverent, and a warm feeling spreads throughout your entire body.
"Welcome home," you whisper, and his hands move to your hips, pulling you closer.
"I could get used to hearing that," he murmurs.
He moves down to your neck again, and the warm feeling intensifies, turning into heat, burning hotter and hotter with each passing second. His fingers trail up the side of your ribs, leaving goosebumps in their wake. They come to rest on the bare skin of your lower back, and when his thumb begins tracing gentle circles, a soft moan escapes your throat.
You know that if you let this continue, you'll never get out of this entryway, but right now, you're not sure you care. All you know is that his hands and his lips are setting your skin on fire, and all you want is to feel him everywhere.
"Did you... have a good trip?" you ask, gasping a little as his teeth scrape over your skin.
"Mm-hmm," he mumbles. His lips find the spot under your ear and stay there. You squirm in his arms, but only because it's ticklish, not because you want him to stop.
"How was Felucia?" you ask, breathless.
"Fine." He sucks at the pulse point on your neck, and you whimper, tightening your grip on him. "I got to fire a few blasters, kick a few droids, save the day. The usual."
"So... you're... all in one piece?"
He pauses, pulls back a little, and looks down at you. His grin turns mischievous.
"What do you think?"
You bite your lip. Your hand trails down his chest and stomach, feeling the hard muscles beneath his shirt. You look back up at him, batting your lashes innocently before your hand slips lower. He catches his breath as you cup him through his pants, stroking lightly.
"You feel like one piece to me."
Gregor's mouth covers yours, and he kisses you deeply, his tongue teasing your bottom lip until you open your mouth and let him in. You're barely aware of him steering you toward the wall. It isn't until your back hits the cold, smooth metal that you realize how dizzy you are, how hot and needy you've gotten from nothing more than a few touches and his kisses.
He pins your hands above your head, and you feel the pressure of his thigh between your legs. You moan, arching up, and he moves against you, grinding slowly. His mouth leaves yours and moves to your throat, and you tilt your head back and close your eyes, letting him have his way with you.
"I've thought about doing this the entire trip home," he murmurs, his hands leaving yours. One of them finds your waist, holding you steady as he moves his leg back and forth. The other slips under your shirt, fingers splaying across the skin of your stomach. He pushes the fabric up, baring your chest. You gasp, shuddering, as the air cools your hot skin.
"You have?"
"Oh yeah." His mouth moves down, his lips closing around the tip of one breast, his tongue flicking out. "Had plenty of time to think."
You thread your fingers through his hair and hold him to you. He sucks and bites at you, sending sharp pangs of pleasure and pain through your body. Your hips rock against him, searching for relief.
"You don't think that's a little... unhealthy?" you ask. He chuckles, and the sound vibrates against your sensitive flesh. He lets go with a wet pop, and his lips ghost across the valley of your breasts and onto the other one. You shiver and press into him.
"Not at all."
You moan as his tongue slides along your skin, lapping and circling. He sucks, harder and harder, until the pressure is almost too much to bear. You cry out, and he stops, pressing a gentle kiss over the bruise that's already forming. He looks up at you, his pupils blown, his smile wicked.
"You know what I miss most when I'm away?" he asks, his words a whisper against your skin. His thumb circles your nipple, and you suck in a breath, squirming.
"What?"
"This," Gregor says. He presses a kiss to the top of your breast before his hand moves south, cupping you through your pants. "And this." He slips his fingers inside your waistband, finding the edge of your underwear. "And definitely this."
His thick fingers push under the thin cotton fabric and stroke through the slickness. He finds your clit and rubs, slowly and gently, and it takes everything in you not to fall apart right there.
"Mmmm," you moan. "That's a lot to miss."
He teases you a little, his fingers sliding lower, finding your opening and thrusting once, shallowly. You whimper, your legs trembling.
"Well," he replies, sliding one finger inside you, "it's a good thing I've got plenty of time to make up for it."
Your breath catches in your throat as his finger strokes the place deep inside you that makes you shudder and shake. He's got the perfect rhythm, and just the right amount of pressure. You close your eyes and tip your head back, arching against the wall as your mouth parts and little, high-pitched noises of pleasure escape.
"So beautiful," Gregor murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck. "So soft and warm. Like a little ray of sunshine in my otherwise miserable existence."
"Stop," you whisper, though it's the last thing you want him to do.
"Stop what?" he asks. "Stop calling you beautiful? I don't think so."
"But—"
"Oh, yes you are," he cuts you off.
Gregor takes a step back, removing his hand. You whimper at the loss, and he gives you a smile before dropping to his knees in front of you, looking up at you with an expression that can only be described as worshipful.
"In fact," he says, pulling your pants down, "let me show you how beautiful I think you are."
You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Gregor has a way of making you feel things that no one ever has before, and his words alone are enough to bring you to the edge. But when he looks at you like that, and when he speaks to you the way he does, all husky and low, it's hard not to let go.
As if he knows this, his eyes lock with yours, and his mouth curls into a smirk.
"I think I'd better take a closer look," he says, and his tongue slips out, tracing along his lower lip.
He grabs hold of your waistband and pulls, and your pants and underwear slide down your legs. You lift one foot, and then the other, stepping out of them, and he tosses them aside. He kisses the inside of your knee, and then slowly moves up, kissing his way along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your legs tremble. Your hands shake.
He reaches the top of your leg, and then stops.
"Gregor?"
"I could stay here forever, you know," he says, pressing another kiss to the inside of your thigh. "It's my favorite place in the entire galaxy. So soft. So perfect."
You're about to protest, but before you can, he spreads your folds with his fingers. Your words come out as a cry, and your hands fly to his hair, clutching his head and pulling him closer.
“And this,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through you. Your knees buckle. Gregor steadies you, his laugh hot against your skin. "You know, it's really unfair that I don't get to do this nearly often enough."
"You do just fine," you breathe, "when you're here."
"Just fine isn't good enough," he replies. He leans in again, flicking his tongue over your clit. You gasp and arch toward him, and his arms slide around your waist, holding you tight against his face. "You deserve more than just fine.”
You have a feeling he's talking about more than just this, but before you can ask him, his mouth covers you, and any words that were going to come out turn into a long, drawn-out moan.
You close your eyes and tilt your head back, getting lost in the sensation of his tongue moving against you, licking, sucking, teasing. One of his hands finds yours and laces your fingers together, holding tight, grounding you, and reminding you that no matter where you are, no matter what else is going on in the galaxy, this is real. This is where you are. This is the only thing that matters.
Gregor's free hand moves to your thigh. He urges you to part your legs further, and you oblige, leaning back against the wall and sinking lower, letting him lift your leg and place it over his shoulder. His tongue laps at your entrance, teasing, and then moves higher, circling your clit again and again.
You gasp. Your toes curl. Heat builds between your legs, and every movement of his tongue makes you shiver and tremble. Gregor knows exactly how to play your body. He's mapped every inch of you. He knows the right amount of pressure, the exact movement that will send you careening over the edge.
And it makes it all the more frustrating that he seems determined to keep you hanging on, never quite pushing you over the cliff.
"Gregor, please," you moan.
"Please what, sunshine?" he asks with a laugh, and you whimper as his lips brush your clit.
"Don't make me say it," you whisper, heat creeping up your neck and into your cheeks.
"Oh, no, no, no," he replies, shaking his head. "You're not getting off that easy. I want to hear it."
You groan and drop your head forward, looking down at him. His eyes are bright, his smile is wicked, and his fingers are teasing your slit, not quite going in, but just enough to send a jolt of pleasure through you.
"I want you," you whisper, trying not to whine. "I want you to make me come. Please."
"Your wish," Gregor murmurs, his voice low and rough, "is my command."
His tongue finds your clit and stays there, stroking, teasing, flicking. His fingers slip inside you, first one, then two, and curl, stroking the spot deep inside that makes you scream.
The heat between your legs builds and builds until it becomes unbearable, until your thighs are shaking and your vision is blurring. You can't breathe, can't speak, all you can do is clutch his hand and moan, louder and louder as the pleasure swells.
"Yes," he whispers, his lips and his breath and his voice sending a cascade of shudders through your body.
Finally, his mouth covers your clit, and he sucks hard, his fingers thrusting deeper.
You come apart. Your body goes taut, your head tilts back, and a cry escapes from deep in your throat. Your orgasm rips through you, wave after wave, and you cling to Gregor's hand as if he's the only thing keeping you from being swept away.
He keeps going even after the spasms stop, and soon, you're building up to another peak. The intensity is too much, and you try to pull his head away, gasping his name. He doesn't stop. He holds you tighter and doubles his efforts, his tongue lapping and his fingers pumping.
"Oh, no," he says, holding fast. "I'm not done yet. I still have plenty more to make up for."
"Please," you moan, though whether it's because you can't stand any more or because you don't want him to stop is anyone's guess.
"I think..." Gregor murmurs, his fingers curling inside you. You buck against his hand, moaning loudly. "I think I might have to do this a few more times. Maybe all night."
His mouth covers you again, and you close your eyes, giving in to the sensations. Your whole body is trembling, every nerve is singing, and the pleasure is so intense, so overwhelming, that it almost hurts.
He takes you higher and higher until the heat and the need are unbearable. Little moans and noises escape him, and the way his tongue and lips move faster and faster against you let you know that he's just as excited by this as you are. He's just as aroused by giving you pleasure as you are by receiving it. And the thought that he gets so much enjoyment from this, and from knowing that he can make you feel this way, is what finally pushes you over the edge.
You scream, and your entire body shakes and spasms. Your nails dig into his hand, and he holds tight, letting you ride out the pleasure until the tremors finally subside and you collapse, boneless, against the wall.
Gregor's fingers slip out of you, and his mouth goes slack, letting go of your clit. He gently lowers your leg and stands, wrapping his arms around you, holding you close as the aftershocks make your body shudder and twitch.
"There," he murmurs, planting a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Much better."
You giggle, breathless.
"Oh, yeah?"
"Definitely," he says. He pulls back, just a bit, and cups your chin in his hand. His thumb runs along your lower lip, and you open your mouth, letting it slide in. He groans as your tongue flicks across his skin, his forehead falling forward and resting against yours. "That's one night's worth of missed opportunities. And there are... a lot of nights to make up for."
You grin, letting go of his thumb.
"Well, then, I suppose we'd better get started," you reply. Your hands move to his belt, fingers dancing across the cold metal. You look up at him through lowered lashes, biting your lip. "My turn?"
Gregor grabs your wrists, pulling them away. You whimper.
"No," he replies. He gathers your wrists in one hand, and the other lifts to stroke your cheek, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, I want to make love to my girlfriend. The way I've been wanting to the entire trip home. And that means I get to be the one taking care of you."
"Oh, come on, Gregor," you say, pouting. "Let me make you feel good too."
"Nope," he says. He steps back and starts pulling off his shirt. "This is a night of self-indulgence, and that means I'm going to take my time and do everything I've been fantasizing about doing since the last time I saw you."
"Is that right?" you hum, raising an eyebrow. You start to push off the wall, but his hand stops you, his palm flat against your chest. He shakes his head.
"Nuh-uh," he replies.
You groan. "Gregor, that's not fair."
He laughs and tosses his shirt aside, reaching for the buckle of his belt.
"It's plenty fair. I've been on Felucia for months, fighting hordes of vicious battle droids and trying not to die." He pulls the belt from his pants and tosses it aside. "It's been a stressful couple of weeks, and I think I've earned the chance to do whatever the hell I want."
"And what is it that you want?" you ask, crossing your arms.
He pauses, and his expression changes. His eyes darken, the black of his pupils swallowing the brown, and his grin fades. He looks at you like he wants nothing more than to devour you, and it sends a wave of heat over you so powerful you feel your knees weaken.
"Go get on the bed," he growls, "and I'll show you."
And oh, there's the tone that makes your heart beat faster and your stomach do flips. The tone that lets you know that, tonight, it's not just about the physical, but something so much deeper, and a thousand times more intimate.
You hesitate, and he takes a step forward, his eyes narrowing.
"I said..."
"Yes, sir."
Gregor grins, and his eyes light up.
"There's my girl," he murmurs.
You can't help the smile that comes to your face, or the way you blush and bite your lip, and Gregor's grin grows wider. He grabs your cheek, squishing them slightly as he pulls you in for a kiss, soft and gentle and sweet.
"Go," he says when he pulls away.
You nod.
He kisses you again, and then lets go. Gregor's hands find your hips, and he gives you a little shove forward, making you yelp and giggle. You hurry down the hall toward your bedroom, stripping off the rest of your clothes as you walk. Every step feels like you're walking through a haze, a dream, something surreal and wonderful.
By the time you reach the bed, you're naked. You throw yourself down and bounce a little on the mattress, feeling giddy. The bed is made, as always, but you grab the blankets and fling them back, creating a messy, rumpled mess that would ordinarily drive you crazy.
It's a few minutes before Gregor comes into the room, but when he does, the sight of him makes your heart leap.
He's still wearing his pants, but his feet are bare, and his shirt is gone, leaving his muscular torso completely exposed. There's a thin sheen of sweat on his skin, clinging to the thick lines of muscle and dark hairs that cover him. You can see the lines of a few fresh scars, and some older ones, but the thing that really gets you is the look on his face. He's trying to keep himself in check, to remain calm and controlled, but there's something behind his eyes that makes it obvious he's fighting to keep from jumping on top of you.
"So, how do you want me?" you ask, trying to keep the tremble from your voice.
Gregor walks slowly toward the bed, his hands behind his back. His eyes roam over your body, and his gaze burns hotter than a solar flare. His lips are parted, and his breathing is a little uneven, and the fact that this man, who has seen so many terrible things, and experienced so much death and destruction, has no trouble being completely undone by you, is intoxicating.
"Gregor?"
He takes a deep breath. His gaze meets yours, and his lips curl into a grin.
"Perfect," he says, smiling softly. "Exactly like that."
You're blushing furiously now, and the desire burning in his eyes is making it hard for you to catch your breath.
Gregor approaches the bed, his gaze never leaving yours. You can see the outline of his erection through his pants, and your fingers itch to grab hold of him, to stroke and tease and make him feel the way he made you feel. But as soon as you sit up and reach for him, he pushes your hands away and straddles you, pinning your arms at your sides. He leans down and kisses you, his tongue slipping past your lips and exploring your mouth.
"Tonight," he whispers, pulling back, "it's my turn to do all the work."
"I don't mind working," you say, arching your hips against his. He gasps and then chuckles.
"Next time," he replies. He plants a soft kiss to the end of your nose and presses his forehead to yours. "Next time, I'll let you do whatever you want. Tonight, it's just about me taking care of my girl."
"What if I don't want to be taken care of?"
"Hm..." Gregor hums, pretending to think. "Tough."
His lips meet yours again, and his kiss is hard, demanding. Your hands struggle against his grip, wanting to touch him, and when he finally lets go, they fly to his face, cupping his cheeks and pulling him closer. Your mouths open and tongues tangle, and he shifts, settling himself between your legs.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders and arch up, trying to press your body against his. But he resists, keeping himself hovering over you, denying you the friction and pressure you desperately want. You can feel him through his pants, so close, but it's not enough, and you squirm, whimpering into his mouth.
"Not so fast, beautiful," Gregor says.
"You're teasing me."
"Yes," he replies, sliding a hand down between your legs. "Yes, I am."
"Gregor—"
He shushes you, slipping two fingers inside your entrance, and all other thoughts leave your mind.
His fingers curl and stroke, and you buck against his hand, whimpering. He knows your body almost as well as you do. He can bring you to the edge faster and with more intensity than you can yourself. And the fact that he's doing it without even touching your clit is driving you insane.
"How are we doing, sunshine?" Gregor asks, and the smugness in his voice making it obvious he already knows the answer.
"So... so good," you manage, biting your lip.
"Just good?" he teases, slowing his pace. You squirm, trying to get his fingers deeper, but he holds back. "Are you sure there isn't something more I can do to improve the experience?"
"Oh, stars, please, Gregor, please."
"That's what I thought."
His thumb brushes your clit, and a jolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your eyes fly open as you grab his shoulders, trying to pull him closer. He resists, and you moan in frustration.
"Gregor, please," you say again.
"Please what?"
"Touch me," you reply. "Kiss me. Make me come. Just, please, don't make me wait any longer."
"All in good time, my love," he murmurs. He kisses the base of your throat, sucking lightly at the spot just above your collarbone that makes you shiver and moan. "All in good time."
You bite your lip and hold on to his shoulders, waiting for him to continue. He kisses his way down your neck, pausing every so often to suck and bite and lick. Each touch sends little jolts of electricity through your body, making you hot and needy.
By the time he reaches the valley between your breasts, his fingers are moving deeper inside you, and the slow, steady strokes of his thumb against your clit are nudging you closer to the edge again. You arch your back, pressing your breasts closer to him, begging him to move his mouth lower. But instead of doing what you want, he turns his head and bites your nipple, sending a shockwave of pain and pleasure through your body.
"You are so beautiful," he whispers. He presses a kiss to the top of your breast, his tongue swirling over to soothe the sting. You cry out, arching up, and he laughs. "Every part of you."
His fingers curl inside you, stroking the spot deep inside, and your head tilts back. The pressure and the heat building between your legs are almost unbearable, and the only thing keeping you grounded is his free hand, stroking your hip and the crease where your thigh meets your body. He moves his thumb from your clit, and you whine in frustration.
"Look at me," he says, and when you glance down, his eyes lock with yours. They're dark and serious, the same way they were when he ordered you onto the bed. But now, the look on his face is full of affection and adoration, and it makes your heart melt.
"Do you know what I think about when I'm out there?" Gregor asks, his fingers still moving, and it takes everything in you to stay focused. "When I'm fighting those droids, and the shooting stops, and everything goes quiet?"
"W-what?"
"I think about this," he replies. "I think about coming home. About getting to be with you. About getting to make love to you. About getting to hold you, and kiss you, and taste you, and touch you."
"Oh, stars," you whisper, his words sending a fresh wave of heat over your skin. You arch up again, trying to press closer, and he chuckles.
"I think about how lucky I am," he says, leaning down and brushing his lips against yours. His hand fists in the sheets beside your head while the other continues to move, slow and steady, deep and intense. "I think about how much I love you."
"Gregor..."
You feel the tears stinging the backs of your eyes, and you pull him closer, kissing him deeply, your tongue sliding past his lips and meeting his. His thumb brushes your clit, and you let out a high-pitched whimper, your whole body going stiff.
"I love you," he murmurs against your lips. "And I will never get tired of showing you how much."
You cling to him, unable to speak, and he kisses you again, long and slow and sweet. He kisses his way down your chest, stopping to lavish attention on your breasts, sucking and nipping and swirling his tongue. He moves lower, and lower, kissing his way across your stomach and down your thigh.
"So beautiful," he whispers, pressing his lips to the spot right above your knee.
He lifts your leg, hooking it over his shoulder, and turns his head, kissing the sensitive skin on the inside of your thigh.
"I used to be afraid I'd forget," he says, his voice low and hoarse. His fingers curl inside you, and he kisses higher, closer, and closer. "You know. That my memory would go again, and I wouldn't remember you. Or us. Or the way it felt to be here with you."
You swallow hard. "Oh, Gregor, please, don't..."
"But it didn't," he says. He's still moving his fingers, slowly, almost lazily, and the sensation is driving you crazy. You rock your hips against him, trying to get him to go faster, but he stays in control, keeping his movements steady. "It didn't go. Because no matter what, no matter where I am, no matter how bad things get, you're the one thing that never left me."
"Good," you say, gasping. "Because I never want to leave."
Gregor kisses the inside of your thigh again, and then presses his face to the place where it meets your hip.
"I wish I could keep you with me," he murmurs, nuzzling and nipping and licking. "Everywhere I go, everywhere I am, all I want is you."
You feel the heat building between your legs, and the pleasure coiling deep inside. It's slow and intense, and the longer he goes on, the more desperate you get. You want to reach for him, to clutch at him, to pull him closer, but you're afraid of breaking his spell. He seems to be in a trance, his mouth moving over your skin as if he can't stop.
And if it means being this close, having him this near, having him this intimate, this passionate, this whole, then you will gladly let him do whatever he wants.
"I don't ever want to lose this," he says, kissing his way up the opposite thigh.
"You won't," you promise. "Never."
Gregor moves back to the spot on the inside of your thigh, biting down harder, sucking, licking. Your breath hitches as you feel the delicate veins burst, the skin bruising under his teeth. A few days, and it will fade, but for now, it will be a mark of his love, a reminder that you belong to him. That he belongs to you.
He pulls his mouth away and presses his face to your hip again. He's still stroking his fingers, slow and deep, and it's starting to become too much. It's becoming hard to think. Hard to breathe. You arch against him, but he keeps his rhythm, holding you down with the weight of his body.
“I want to stay like this forever," he says, kissing the space right below your navel. “Stars, sunshine, I want to devour every inch of you. Want to spend a week, a month, a year with my face between your legs, because that's the only place in the universe where I'm actually happy."
"Gregor—“
"I could live there, you know," he cuts you off. "Forever. Wouldn't even mind. Just you and me and a big bed and nothing else."
"But no food," you reply breathlessly, unable to resist the joke, your eyes squeezed shut.
"Don't need it."
"You'd get hungry."
"For you." He kisses his way back down the other thigh, leaving a trail of tiny bruises behind. "Nothing but you."
"Fuck, Gregor," you gasp as he sucks at the crease of your leg and your pelvis, his fingers still stroking, his other hand tightening its grip on the sheets.
"I love it here," he murmurs, his breath hot and humid against your skin. "Love the way you smell, and taste, and the noises you make when I kiss you here..." He trails off, and his tongue finds your slit.
You cry out, arching against him, and he pushes his face between your legs, lapping at the wetness.
"Oh, Gregor," you moan, grabbing his hair, pulling him closer. You can feel him grinning against you, and his laughter makes your toes curl.
His tongue moves in long, lazy strokes, and his fingers are still going, in and out, curling and twisting. You're panting, writhing beneath him, the heat creeping up your legs toward your core, and he holds firm, his mouth and his hands continuing their work.
"Gregor, please," you whisper, and he lifts his head.
"Please what?"
"Let me touch you."
"No."
He presses his lips to the place above your clit, sucking gently, and you whimper.
"Please."
"No," he says. "You don't need to touch me."
"But I want to," you protest.
"And I want to touch you."
You groan and let your head fall back, and he goes back to his task, his tongue finding your clit, licking and lapping, and his fingers speeding up, thrusting deep.
Your orgasm is building slowly, the heat and the tension growing more and more, and your entire body is trembling. Tears build in the corner of your eyes, your legs are shaking, and your toes are curling. You feel as if you're standing on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. All you need is one more push, one more movement, and the wave will crest and the pleasure will spill over.
"Gregor, please, I can't," you whimper, your hand fisting tighter in his hair. He moans against you, and the sound reverberates through your body, sending a new wave of shudders over your skin. "Don't stop, please, don't stop, please..."
He doesn't say a word, but his hand grips your thigh tighter, and his fingers keep their steady pace, in and out, curving and stroking. His tongue dances along the length of your slit, teasing and licking, and finally, when you're sure you can't take any more, his lips cover your clit, and his tongue presses against it, circling slowly.
You break.
Your back arches, your toes curl, and a cry rips from your throat. White-hot pleasure floods your senses, and you grab the sheets, gripping them tight. The spasms spread from between your legs up your thighs, through your stomach, to your chest, and down your arms. Your thighs clamp down hard around his head, and he laughs, his breath warm against your wet skin.
"Yes," Gregor murmurs, his voice hoarse, and he grunts as you squeeze his head tighter. His hand grips your leg, holding fast. He continues his movements, slower now, letting the pleasure build and then fall, and his free hand slides up, finding your own and lacing his fingers through yours. Your hips rock, following his pace, and he doesn't stop until the aftershocks fade and you lie there, boneless, panting, and covered in a thin sheen of sweat.
You lie there, unable to move, unable to think. Your thighs fall open, releasing their grip on him, and Gregor kisses the inside of one leg and then the other, letting his lips linger before sitting up and stretching. You watch him through hooded eyes, a lazy smile playing across your lips.
"Wow," Gregor says, licking his lips. “That was a good one."
"Mmm," is all you can manage. You try to sit up, but your arms are still shaking, so you let yourself flop back down. Your hands reach blindly for him, and he laughs, catching one and pressing a kiss to the palm.
"Oh, no," he says. "Not yet."
"But you didn't—"
"Not yet," he repeats, his smile turning wicked.
He leans down, kissing you softly, and then moves off the bed. His hands find the waistband of his pants and slides them down, revealing the bulge of his cock, thick and heavy, straining against the fabric of his briefs. The sight of his erection makes your mouth water, and you reach for him again, but he shakes his head.
"Not. Yet."
You groan, frustrated, but Gregor just laughs. He drops his pants and steps out of them, his thumbs hooking in his underwear, pushing them down, and his erection springs free. His cock bobs, hard and red and dripping, and you bite your lip, waiting.
“How many more do you have in you?” he asks as his hand closes around his length and strokes slowly. He groans, his head tilting back, and your stomach tightens at the sound.
You blink hard, your brow furrowing. "How many what?"
"Orgasms," he replies, his hand still moving. Your eyes follow the movement, mesmerized by the way his palm and fingers wrap around his girth, the head appearing and disappearing through the ring of his thumb and forefinger. "How many more can you handle?"
"Um... I..."
You can't form words. Your brain feels fuzzy, and all you can focus on is the desire that's burning through your veins. Gregor's cock twitches, and a bead of pre-cum drips down the shaft. Your tongue darts out, wetting your lips, and his grin grows wider.
"Come on," he says. "Give me an answer. Four? Five? More?"
"Maybe three," you reply, still distracted by the movement of his hand.
"Three sounds good," he says, and the way his voice drops, low and rough, sends a shiver down your spine. "I can do three. Now..."
He lets go of his cock and crawls back onto the bed. You grab for him, but he bats your hand away, shaking his head.
"No, not like that," he says.
"Then... how?"
Gregor lies down, stretching his arms above his head, and you frown.
"What are you—"
"Come sit on my face."
Your jaw drops. Your eyes go wide.
"You're kidding."
"Nope," he replies. He grins, his gaze dropping lower, to where you're still wet and throbbing. He pats his shoulder. "Hop on."
"What? Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That's not an answer."
"Because I want you to ride my face until I've made up for the last three months," he replies, and his voice is low and thick, sending another shudder through you. "Now get over here."
You stare at him for a moment, stunned, and then slowly move, straddling him. You hover over him, your knees on either side of his shoulders, and his arms wrap around your thighs, holding you fast as you position yourself over his face. You feel a little ridiculous, but Gregor doesn't seem to mind. He simply grins up at you, and then, without any warning, his mouth covers you.
You cry out at the feeling of his mouth on your oversensitive flesh. It's almost too much, and the first swipe of his tongue has your legs trembling. But he's insistent, his hands tightening around your thighs, holding you in place as his mouth and tongue go to work.
"Gregor—"
He moans, and the vibrations travel through you, making your thighs tremble. You lean forward, bracing yourself on the wall, and his tongue darts out, swirling and swirling.
You let out a whimper. You're still sensitive, still coming down from the four orgasms he's already given you, and your body feels boneless and limp. But the way he's working, the way his mouth and tongue are moving against you, makes it hard to keep your thoughts straight.
You lean forward, resting your head against the wall, and your breathing becomes heavier and heavier. Your hips roll against him, and his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, keeping his face buried between your legs. You glance down to see his eyes are closed, his brows drawn together as he works, and the sight of him so focused, so intent, so hungry, sends a new wave of heat through you.
It's too much, but not enough. It's overwhelming, and yet, somehow, you want more. You need more. The heat is building in your belly, and you know it won't be long before you're right back where you were before, and yet, the intensity is a little frightening. He's not even touching you, not really, and the thought of what might happen if he does has you terrified.
"Gregor, please," you moan, reaching for him, but he shakes his head, not breaking his stride. His tongue swirls around and around, and the heat coils, tight and hot and unbearable. "I can't. I can't. Please, stop, it's too much."
He pulls back, and you gasp in relief.
"Do you really want me to stop?" he asks, panting. His lips are slick with your juices, and his chin is shining. His pupils are blown, his cheeks are flushed, and his hair is mussed. He's a complete wreck, and you've never seen anything sexier in your life. "Do you really want me to let you go?"
"No," you gasp, swallowing hard.
"Do you really want me to stop making up for all the nights I've been gone?"
"No."
"Good."
He grabs your hips and pulls you back down, his mouth covering you once again. You moan and squirm, your hand flying to the back of his head, fingers fisting in his hair. He hums his approval, and the vibrations make you gasp and buck against him.
"Oh, yes," you whimper, rolling your hips. You can feel his stubble rasping against the soft skin of your inner thighs, and his nose nudges the place just above your clit, making you squirm. "Please, don't stop."
He doesn't respond, but his hands slide up to cup your ass, squeezing gently as his tongue moves faster. You brace yourself on the wall and the headboard, grinding your hips against him, and he groans. You can hear him panting, can feel his chest rising and falling beneath your knees, and his eyes are squeezed shut, his brows drawn together.
The heat and the tension build, and soon, you're right on the edge again. He doesn’t keep you there this time, though. Instead, he takes you higher and higher, pushing you closer and closer, until you feel like you might explode. And when you think it can't get any better, he reaches up and slides his fingers inside you, pumping and curling.
Your entire body goes rigid, and a loud, long moan escapes your lips.
"Stars, yes," Gregor groans.
He keeps going, faster and harder, and you come, gasping and shuddering. He doesn't stop, just keeps moving, his tongue and his fingers bringing you to another peak before you've even finished the first. You're screaming, begging, and the world starts to go fuzzy. All you can feel is the pressure, the heat, the intensity, and all you can see is his face, buried between your legs.
By the time you peel yourself off him, Gregor is a mess. His face is covered in your slick, and his lips are red and swollen, his hair sticking to his forehead. He's breathing hard, and his chest is heaving, and when you manage to lift your head and meet his gaze, you can't help the giggle that escapes your throat.
"You look like a mess," you say.
"I'm not the only one," he replies, and the huskiness of his voice sends a shiver down your spine.
"I don't think I can do any more," you tell him.
"Sure you can," Gregor says, and he slides his hand up to rest on the small of your back. His fingers stroke the damp skin, and the heat and the electricity are still there, just below the surface. "Just give me a minute, and we'll try again."
"We will?" you ask, biting your lip.
He nods, grinning, and reaches up to wipe his face. His fingers find their way into his mouth, sucking and licking them clean. The sight of his lips wrapped around his fingers makes you shiver, and when he finishes, he lets out a satisfied sigh.
"Yeah," he replies. "We will."
"And what if I can't?"
"I think you can," he says. His hand moves lower, grabbing the base of your ass, and his fingers dig into the soft flesh, massaging and kneading.
"Oh," you breathe. "Okay. Um... how?"
"Just relax," Gregor replies. His hand squeezes tighter, and his thumb strokes the soft skin, sending a tingle through you. "Relax, and let me take care of you."
You nod and close your eyes, letting the feeling wash over you. He continues to rub, his movements slow and soothing, and you can feel the tension leaving your body. You’re boneless and liquid, and every time he touches you, a little shockwave travels up your spine, making you shudder.
He maneuvers you easily, flipping you over onto your back and pushing your legs apart. He settles between them, and his mouth finds yours, kissing you deeply.
You can taste yourself on him, and the sensation is enough to make you gasp and writhe. You're still sensitive and overstimulated, and every touch of his skin against yours is almost unbearable. You clutch at his shoulders, pulling him closer, and his lips leave yours, trailing kisses across your jaw and down your neck.
"Still alive?" Gregor asks, pulling back just enough to look at you.
"Barely."
He grins and kisses you again. His cock is pressed between your legs, hot and throbbing, and he grinds against you, moaning softly. The feeling of his shaft rubbing against your slick skin is intoxicating, and the desire begins to build again.
He's moving slower this time, his hands stroking and teasing, and he seems intent on touching every inch of you, making sure not a single part of you is neglected. He's everywhere, kissing and nipping, his fingers exploring and massaging. You cling to him, your hands roaming over his broad, muscular shoulders, his chest, and the thick muscles of his arms. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving scratches and welts, and the noises he makes send a wave of heat over you.
Gregor shifts, and the tip of his cock finds your entrance.
"You want more?" he asks. "Or are you done?"
"More," you whisper, clutching his shoulders, pulling him closer. "Please, I want to feel you."
"Are you sure?" he murmurs, though it's obvious that's what he wants, too.
"Positive."
He captures your lips in another heated kiss before he pushes your hand away and positions himself at your entrance. He teases a little, rubbing the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness.
"Because I can keep doing this," he says, "and just come like this. On you."
"Gregor, please," you groan, frustrated, and he laughs.
"Okay, okay," he says, and he shifts his hips, pressing forward, and he enters you.
The sensation of him stretching and filling you is exquisite, and you let out a long, low moan, wrapping your legs around his waist. He groans and pushes deeper, burying his face in the crook of your neck. His stubble scratches at the sensitive skin, and his teeth find the place where your neck and shoulder meet, sucking hard as he starts to move.
His pace is slow and steady, and his lips and teeth are on your neck, leaving bruises, marking you, claiming you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer, deeper, and he groans, his hand fisting in your hair.
"Stars, I've missed you," Gregor murmurs, his voice muffled against your skin.
"I've missed you, too," you reply, arching up, meeting him thrust for thrust.
"Never going this long again," he continues, his voice ragged. "Can't stand it."
"Me neither."
He kisses his way up your neck and along your jaw, finally finding your mouth. You kiss him, long and deep, and his hand leaves your hair, moving to the side of your face, cupping your cheek. He's being gentle now, the urgency and desperation replaced by tenderness and love. You kiss him harder, clinging to him, and he moans, thrusting deep until his pelvis is flush against yours.
"I love you," you whisper, and Gregor lets out a soft sigh.
"Love you, too, sunshine," he replies. "Love you more than anything."
You close your eyes and hold him close, relishing the feeling of his body on top of yours. You're hot and sticky, and you can taste the sweat on his skin. You're tired, and spent, and a little sore. But it feels so good to have him here, inside you, with nothing between you. Nothing except love. And that's enough.
"Tell me again," Gregor whispers, his hand slipping between your bodies. His thumb finds your clit and strokes slowly, and you arch, whimpering. "Tell me again."
"I love you."
He groans, burying his face in your neck again, and his pace picks up, his fingers circling your clit faster. You wrap your arms around him, clinging tight. The pleasure builds slowly, but it's there, and it's getting stronger with every thrust.
"Again."
"I love you, Gregor."
A tiny gasp escapes him, and he pulls back, looking down at you. His eyes are bright, and he's smiling, his hair damp with sweat. You reach up, cupping his cheek, and he turns his head, kissing the center of your palm.
"Good?” you ask.
"So good," he murmurs. "Too good."
"Too good?"
"Yeah," Gregor says, his laugh shaky, and his head drops down, his forehead touching yours. "If I had known it would be this good, I'd have run away from the GAR as soon as I found you and never looked back."
"You wouldn't," you reply, smiling and running a hand over his hair.
"For you?" he asks. "Absolutely. Just ask. I'd walk across the galaxy if you wanted. Take on the whole kriffing Separatist army. Slay a dragon. Whatever you want."
"You don't need to slay a dragon for me, Gregor," you say with a laugh.
"Fine. A dragon, a rancor, a Dathomirian devil-bat. Whatever. You name it, and I'll do it."
"Gregor."
"I'm serious, sunshine." His pace is speeding up, his thrusts getting deeper, and the pressure of his thumb is getting harder. You moan and arch, and he grins, nuzzling his nose against yours. "Whatever you want, whenever you want it. Just say the word."
"Gregor," you breathe, gasping as his hand slips down, finding the spot behind your knee and urging your leg up. "I don't need anything but you."
He smiles, the look on his face one of pure adoration, and it makes your heart skip a beat.
"Oh, sunshine," he says, leaning down and kissing you softly. "I am going to marry the hell out of you."
The words surprise you. It's not the first time he's said it, but each time feels like a little thrill. A reminder that, even though your life is full of uncertainty and danger, you have someone who loves you, and would do anything to keep you safe, and would never leave you. It's a promise that, someday, all of this will be over, and you'll have a home and a family and a place in the world, together.
"Is that a promise?" you ask, unable to keep from smiling.
"Damn right it is."
He kisses you again, deeper, harder, and his hand finds yours, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing your palms together. You clutch his hand and close your eyes, lost in the moment, the heat and the desire and the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter.
Gregor's breath is coming faster now, his thrusts a little rougher, and the way his hand is moving between your legs is sending sparks of electricity through you. He's so close, and you can feel him starting to lose control. You cling to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him and holding tight, and he buries his face in your neck. His hips start to move erratically, the sounds he's making driving you wild.
"We'll get married. As soon as the war's over. Or before, if you want,” he mutters into your skin. "Have a whole bunch of kids. Be a real family."
"Yes," you agree, gasping, the pressure between your legs building to an almost unbearable point. "A huge family. Enough kids to start our own squad."
"Stars, yes," he murmurs, his teeth nipping at the base of your throat. “Lots of kids. And lots of grandkids. And I'll be there for all of it. And we'll be happy and safe. And... oh, fuck, sunshine, I'm not gonna last much longer."
"Neither am I."
He groans, and his hand moves faster, stroking you harder, and the spasms are so close. You're right on the edge, and when Gregor pulls back, looking down at you and giving you that soft smile, it sends you careening over.
You come with a scream, clutching his hand and pulling him closer. The tremors rip through you, and he follows, crying out your name as his body goes rigid and his hips jerk and stutter. His release spills into you, hot and thick, and you shudder, riding out the waves of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut as you feel him grind deeper, his hips pressing hard against yours, and he lets out a low moan as his cock twitches and pulses inside you.
Finally, the spasms stop, and the two of you collapse, breathing hard, clinging to each other. You lie like that for a long time, holding him close, enjoying the feeling of his body pressed against yours, the aftershocks making you tremble and shake.
The muscles in your stomach and thighs are burning, and Gregor's weight on top of you is a little uncomfortable, but it feels good, and you don't want him to go anywhere. You never do. You wish you could stay like this forever. Just the two of you, safe and sound and far, far away from the rest of the galaxy.
"Wow," you murmur.
"Yeah," he agrees with a sigh.
You're quiet for a moment, and then, Gregor lifts his head.
"One more?" he asks, his eyes hopeful.
You laugh and shake your head, pushing his hair back off his forehead. He grins, and you cup his cheeks, pulling him down and kissing him gently.
“Maybe after dinner,” you say, and Gregor laughs.
"Fair enough."
He leans down, pressing a kiss to the space between your breasts, and then rolls onto his side, pulling you against him and kissing the top of your head. You snuggle against him, resting your head on his chest and listening to the sound of his heart beating. The feeling of being in his arms, safe and loved, is better than any orgasm, and you feel yourself relaxing, drifting toward sleep.
You're nearly there when he speaks again.
"What do you think? Is a spring wedding okay with you?"
"Hmm?" you hum, forcing your eyes open and looking up at him.
"For our wedding. It's my favorite time of year,” he replies, tracing his fingers lightly across your back. "When everything comes back to life. And I think you'd look really good in a flower crown."
You chuckle and press a kiss to his shoulder. Your lips trail across the scar there, and his arms tighten around you, squeezing a little.
"Sure, Gregor. A spring wedding sounds wonderful."
"Oh, good," he says. "And maybe, if we can talk Cody into taking a few days off, we can have him marry us."
“Does he have the authority to do that?”
"I think so. I've never asked him, but it doesn't hurt to check. If not, I bet General Kenobi would do it. He likes you. Plus, it would be a nice gesture to show him that we appreciate all he's done for us."
"Okay, yeah," you grin. "We can ask them."
"Perfect," he says, his hand traveling up your back and over your neck, and his fingers tangle in your hair. He tilts your head back, and kisses you softly. "I can't wait."
"Neither can I."
Gregor grins, and he pulls back, resting his head on the pillow and closing his eyes. You settle in next to him, and a wave of peace washes over you. For the first time in three months, you're completely at ease.
All the fear, the worry, the anxiety that's been weighing on your shoulders is gone, and in its place is a sense of rightness and contentment. It's like everything has clicked into place. Like you've been floating, lost in a storm, and the anchor has finally hit the ground, holding fast.
It's not the perfect ending. But it's close. And it's what you've needed.
"I love you, Gregor," you whisper.
He doesn't answer. His chest is rising and falling steadily, and his face is relaxed. You smile and press a kiss to his chest.
It's just as well. There will be plenty of time to tell him.
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This is DELIGHTFUL - I’m envisioning this scenario almost like a regency romance in the Jedi temple as Plo keeps guard of his young charges heart ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Also really enjoyed a non Jedi’s reaction to the temple - you explored that really well.
Thank you so much for sharing this @moonlightwarriorqueen
Originally this was supposed to be Wolffe x reader where you're at a party enjoying goodies with Papa Plo and the Wolfpack...but it didnt stay that way 🤣
P.s. Thank you @dystopicjumpsuit (and the Plo simps) for coming to the conclusion Plo bakes good cookies!
Using the prompt Holiday Cookies for @clone-wars-winter-challenge !
Warnings: mentions of sw typical violence and treatment of clones, papa plo is nosy, reader has no formal pronouns but is a strategist, secret relationship, 1 mention of children. If I missed something lemme know
Buir's Cookies
Wolffe x Reader
When you'd been invited to the temple by general Plo Koon, you originally had thought it was because you were in trouble. Perhaps you had given the wrong maps, calculated the wrong trajectory, anticipated the wrong strategy for a battle...perhaps your battle plan had resulted in a great loss - though you never got any report saying such...
Regardless, you put on your best clothes, did yourself up the best and most professional-ish way you could and made your way over.
You'd never been in the temple before, only ever saw glimpses of it from afar. So standing at the enterance now, amongst the excessively large statues...well you'd be lying if you said you had nerves of beskar and that you totally didn't leave your stomach behind right then and there.
Thankfully, General Plo had decided to wait for you at the mouth of a long walkway, either side showcasing just how large and ornate the temple was
"I was beginning to think you had not received my message" his tone left little error to beleive he was anything but teasing
"I'm so sorry general, I...I've never been to the temple" you admitted a bit robotically
"It's quite alright, I can see how the temple is daunting to one who has never stepped foot on its premisies." he explained with a smile to his voice "You'd be surrpised how many younglings end up crying upon seeing it fir the first time"
"Really?" you asked in surprise "I always thought they could sense it was their spot"
"Really" he confirmed turning anf beginning to walk "this way"
You hurried to follow in step with the Kel Dor
"Younglings often are unsure about the temple at first, everything they knew before is gone and this is what they are brought to in return. I try to avoid the front entrance if I am bringing a little one in" he explained as you walked "We are going to one of the gardens, I hope you do not mind"
"Not at all, General" you said quickly, not wanting to offend
"You can relax, you are not in trouble" Plo chuckled, having sensed your nervousness through the force - or perhaps just from having been alive so long he's learned to pick that up in anyone...
"The garden we're going to is encased, so you won't have to worry about the biting air" the jedi added sweetly
"I appreciate that"
You followed him down a few more corridors, making small chit chat along the way, before he paused at an archway and gestured for you to enter first.
The moment you stepped inside, you felt overcome with a tremendous awe. It was like a small, tamed forset within! Plants littered most of the space, in all their glory - be that hanging along trelisses or shooting straight up, proud and tall or as sweeping sprawls of colour. Each plant looked unique yet somehow they all seemed to fit perfectly with one another as if they were always meant to have been that way - nor did they appear groomed, somehow existing perfectly without a single blemish or weed.
"This is beautiful!" You exclaimed, gawking at all around you
"I thought you would appreciate this garden over a sitting room" the jedi beamed as he followed in behind you "I've set a table for us to sit at while we chat"
You smiled and followed your general to a small but ornate looking garden table with three chairs. The table's surface was covered in sweet pasteries and somehow had a teapot and three cups squeezed within.
You raised your brow at the third setting but dismissed it as you took the seat he offered you and watched as he settled upon the other side
"I wanted to thank you for being such a valuable asset to us all" he began softly, as he poured you each a cup
"I'm just doing my job" you defended softly
"You do much more than that" he insisted "You spend hours pouring over information and only ever suggest strategies once you are entirely sure. You never leave opportunity to let my men faulter without a back up plan...or three"
You blinked in surprise, you hadn't noticed he paid that much attention to your efforts to keep him and the wolfpack safe...
"Cookie?" he settled the kettle down and waved his hand above the array of shapes and flavours
It was a bit overwhelming if you were entirely honest, but they all looked so absolutely delicious...
Nodding, you reached and grabbed a dark vermillion coloured cookie that was cresent moon shaped. Bringing it to your mouth, you paused noticing his attention zeroed in on your reaction
"Go on," he urged gently "Let me know how it is"
You peeked at the cookie, briefly wondering if you were about to be poisioned and that is how jedi fire people from the grand army of the republic...but then you took a bite
"This is really, really good general..." you mumbled, cheek full of cookie
"Good, I'm glad" he beamed, an unseen grin plastered to his face
You took a sip of your tea and then took another bite of your cookie
"Now, what are you intentions towards my dear Commander Wolffe?"
You froze at the sudden ask. Not only because of its nature but his unreadably guarded tone
"I...uh..."
Your mind raced a mile a minute, as did your heart, as panic begun to flood your system. How did he know? How long has he known? You and Wolffe both thought you were being extra careful around one another. Wary to not let on to the nature of your relations. Nobody knew about your sneaking off to see him and vice versa. About the passionate nights or the stolen kisses - right?
"General?"
Your head whipped to the right, where you'd entered the gardens, to find your beloved commander standing there with his helmut in his hands
"You...called me here...?" his mismatched gaze settled on you and for a brief second his eyes widened before he returned his attention to your shared jedi general
"Yes. Wolffe, come here" Plo urged sweetly, patted the third seat settled between your forms. "I have a spot for you as well"
You felt sweat begin to pool on your body as you watched Wolffe cooly made his way over, settled into his seat and place his helmut upon his lap
"I wasn't aware we were having a strategy meeting..." he mumbled already reaching for a cookie, clearly this was a norm with the two
"Oh you aren't...I am" Plo admitted while pouring Wolffe some tea as well
"I'm...I'm sorry sir?" Wolffe gawked
"I hope you are" The jedi huffed, setting the kettle down once more "I'm tired of you two thinking you can hide this from me"
Both you and Wolffe sat a bit straighter, wanting to glance to the other for assistance but unable and unwilling to risk showing your hands more than you already had.
"I have been alive for a very, very long time" Plo explained in a gentle yet scolding tone "Did you two think I cannot see? I am not blind behind these pressurized goggles"
The tease did nothing to ease either your nor your beloved's nerves and upon seeing such, the Kel Dor sighed
"I have no intention of punishing either of you, but I must know" he then turned to pointedly look at you "Do you love Wolffe?"
Your heart pounded in your ears and your emotions began to overwhelm you as panic left you unable to respond
"I see, I picked the wrong one to start with" Plo muttered under his breath then turned to his commander "Wolffe? Do y-"
"Yes" Your lover's words came forth as suddenly and sure as his hand had reached under the table to hold your own trembling one
You gasped softly at his unabashed or faultered words, watching him as any and all air left your lungs at his proclamation
Unseen to you, Plo relished in the emotions he was sensing through the force. Your utter surprise and delight, Wolffe's determination and honesty. Then watched as Wolffe turned to you and said in a more tender tone
"I'm in love with you"
Your heart felt as if it would burst any moment as you took in the most wonderful information you'd ever been privy to
"Well...? What do we say....?"
You barely heard Plo's encouragement but felt compelled to admit your own feelings aloud. The ones you'd kept locked away and only allowed to leak out in affectionate actions, but never words
"...I love you, Wolffe..." you whispered
You watched as his eyes creased and grew soft as he gazed down at you, his hand squeezing your own breifly before moving to tangle your fingers together
"Well...now that is settled..." Plo breathed in releif before asked as if he were relaying a scandalous secret "When am I to expect my grandbabies?"
"G-General!"
Plo laughed gleefully at both your young, flushed faces. Perhaps that was a question that should have been reserved for another time with more cookies...
Winter Solstice Fics Masterlist
Yule dividers by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
Black moonstone-patchouli-chime candle 🖤
Thank you for asking! Let's get this lovely chime candle, and roll it in Patchouli pieces and then melt the bottom and settle it on the black moonstone...
Let's see what kind of spell this creates! 💜
Warnings: Wrecker is adorable, reader is a jedi. Verbal prompt is in blue. This is the one bed trope. Wrecker thinks close contact laying with a jedi (such as cuddles or sleeping next to one) will get them kicked from the order - its Crosshair's fault.
A spell for warmth and protection
Wrecker x reader
You usually didn't go with the batch on missions. Usually, you'd meet the squad of essentric commandos at the location designated for your joint mission then continue from there. Even on the mission you rarely stuck right next to them, opting to camp at the far side of their encircling bedrolls and tents. There was no real reason for it - it was just what you had always done. You'd never though much past such a fact...until tonight-
You stared at the hotel bed before you, pain still shooting through your side from where the blaster bolt had struck you. Beside you, the biggest of the four towered as he too looked at the singular bed
"Ah...I....I can sleep on the floor" he dragged out with a touch of embaressment in his tone
"That's not fair" you sighed
"You're hurt" he insisted
"You're hurt more" you countered, gesturing to the binded bandages across his torso - some peeking from between his armour
Wrecker huffed, a childish looking pout crossing his features as he tried to think of another point to make
"This is nonsense" you shook your head and turned your gaze back to the offending furniture.
It wasn't a nice bed by any means, but would do the job for the night and appeared relatively clean. And it was definitely bigger than you needed - probably bigger than Wrecker was used to as well.
"I can call Hunter, he can fi-"
"We're not exactly on home turf here" you pointed out softly
Wrecker deflated a bit at the reminder.
"Right...getting the staff mad will cause a scene we cant afford..." the commando mumbled with his ever growing pout
"We're both adults..." you sat down on the mattress then patted the other side of the bed "we can sleep in the one bed"
"Together..." Wrecker's tone questioned your idea, though he still did as you non-verbally asked and rounded to the other side
"Yes" you nodded
"It...won't get you in trouble...right?" he asked as he settled himself down, the mattress shifting with his weight
"In trouble..." you mused in confusion "Why would it get me in trouble?"
"Well..." he nervously chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck instinctually but winced as it pulled at tender muscles "C-Cross said that Jedi can't touch clones at bedtime - that's why you never sleep with us"
You couldn't help the silly grin that pulled at your cheeks
"He said that?"
"Yeah!" Wrecker nodded "Said the teachin's why you won't fly with us either...!"
You let out a soft snort at the idea
"...he lied, didn't he...?" the large clone groaned, putting a hand to his face "I knew it sounded like...well not right!"
You swiveled in your spot beside him and began tugging softly at the latches of his armour
"There's no rules against where I sleep, with whom I sleep next to or whom I fly with" you explained as you continued
Wrecker let you undo his armour, piece by piece, glad to have it off him and set to the side.
Your gaze quickly tracked the wounds across his chest whre bacta had been applied - as each location had darkened the bandages.
"So why not?"
"huh?" you blinked, tilting your gaze up to meet his
"Why didn't you?"
You could see the confusion and vague hurt eminating from his form at the idea you willingly wouldn't join him and his brothers.
"I...just didn't" you shrugged, the question leaving you void of an answer for him
"But its dangerous!" he protested "I know you have the saber and the force..." he wiggled his fingers as if that is what made the force work "but!"
You watched as he paused and glanced at his lap, looking sheepish
"But...?"
"Well, I was worried...'bout you" Wrecker confessed softly "Every time..."
Wrecker peeked at you, then grabbed the hem of your robe - not daring to formally grab at you during such a vulnerable exchange but seeking that physical connection as he always did.
"Every time you didn't come with us, i'd worry about you. I'd peek out of my tent just to make sure you were right where i saw you had bene when you went to bed. I tried to stay close as i could...but I didn't want to get you in trouble - or make you uncomfortable"
You could feel your chest grow warm as your heart swelled at his sweet admissions and caring nature.
"Thank you" you whispered as you felt heat gather in your cheeks
"Ahw...it's...it's nothin'" he mumbled looking embaressed
You peeked at his crude bandages then fished out the spare aid kit you kept with you
"Alright, let me take better care of those wounds" you resettled beside him and reached for the first bandage's tie
"Uh...its alright" The sweet commando insisted "Really, I've survived worse"
You gave him a look
"Wrecker, whether you have or not isn't in question. The fact is, I can't just let you stew in barely dressed wounds. I may not be a healer - but I know how to clean and dress injuries..."
Wrecker fussed a bit but inevitably let you take care of him. Let you delicately pry the bandages from his blacks and gingerly over the holes that exposed his skin and clotted wounds. Let you pull his shirt from him and then let you clean each painful location across his torso.
Wrecker hissed as you put the last patch on, it happened to cover the most painful looking one out of the group, but you could tell by how taut his muscles were he was trying his best to stay still for you.
Suddenly feeling an overwhelming urge, you leaned in and kissed next to this particular wound.
"There, now it won't hurt - promise"
Wrecker stared at you wide-eyed and jaw ajar as you pulled back and fished out more patches
"Uh- but..." his voice called your attention to return to his confused face "you got em all"
You stifled a giggle as he gesutred to his new bandages - he thought you were fishing more out for him.
"I need your help" you explained softly as you handed him the sterile patch and the bacta solution.
You then hicked up the side of your robes to expose your upper thigh and hip - where you'd been shot earlier
"I can't see it very well, so...you'll have to help me"
"ah....okay...." he paused looking a bit unsure "I don't usually do this part"
You then walked Wrecker through cleaning and banadging your wound properly - well as proper as you two could manage without being medics.
To his credit, he was very good with his hands and the fine motor abilities needed to do so as painlessly as possible. He didn't mess up placing the banadge nor secured it too tightly - both which you did accidentally to him only a short time ago.
The moment he was done, Wrecker looked at you then at the bandage, then back again as if waiting for something - or perhaps debating something...it was hard to tell
But then he leaned over and pressed a delicate peck against your skin before pulling up quickly and mumbling "so it won't hurt anymore" just as you'd done for him.
Both your faces were hot but with the bandaging complete, you both set to fixing the bed up for the night. Ensuring the door was locked tight and all grimy parts of your attire set to the side until tomorrow, the two of you settled into the bed to go to sleep.
Only sleep wasn't coming to either of you - no matter how hard you tried.
You heard your name whispered as heated breath fanned across your shoulder
"Mmm?"
"I can't sleep" Your bedtime buddy mumbled "uh...can...can I hold you?"
You felt that heat rise back to your cheeks at the ask but remembering your past words on how you both could sleep in bed with one another and have no problems arise...
"Alright" you whispered back
Not even a moment passed before his thick, warm arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into his chest. The heat from his form enveloped you like sheets coming fresh from the dryer and you felt your eyelids droop at the sudden comforting aura.
"This is better" he insisted with a yawn punctuating his words
You nodded, feeling yourself dozing off already.
Wrecker held you a little tighter and pressed his face to your shoulder. Nuzzling against it breifly as he relaxed and felt himself get heavy. As if merely having you in his arms would protect you this night from all that lingered beyond, as if it were a simple spell to keep you safe from all that wished to harm you.
Build-a-spell Masterlist (wip)
Dividers by me
Reblog divider by dystopicjumpsuit 💜
Bathroom reveries
Summary: Echo has a bath. That’s literally it. Established relationship, Echo x GN reader.
Word count: 1060
Warnings: N/A, possibly inaccurate medical talk???
Authors note: I just wanted to do some fluff for one of my favourite boys. Lmk if you like it. My inbox is open for chats and requests. ❤️
Echo slipped deeper into the water, a sigh escaping his lips. He’d not had a bath before. The water was warm around his shoulders, the soft bubbles tickling his skin and easing him into relaxation. You had helped him remove his prosthetics, which had been causing his limbs to ache for quite some time, and then helped him into the water. At first the prospect of a bath seemed a useless hassle to him, but seeing how much you enjoyed them had him acquiescing to see what all the fuss was about. In the little bathroom with the steam fogging up the windows, he had to admit, he got it. Bathing was quite relaxing. He sank deeper into the water, eyes closing.
A knock at the door interrupted his reveries. “It’s only me, can I come in?” Your voice called in from the other side.
“Mhm.”
You opened the door, leaning your weight against the frame and cocked your eyebrow. Echo hadn’t even opened his eyes. “I knew a bath would do your limbs good.”
He smiled. “Yeah, yeah, happy now?”
“Very. I’m just making a cuppa, d’you want one?”
“No thank you, Cyare.”
“Okay. Don’t fall asleep in there.” You wagged a finger at him despite how he still had his eyes closed.
“Oh actually,” he called out, eyes shooting open. “Join me?”
“Give me two minutes.”
Echo watched you gently shut the door, his gaze lingering in your direction. You’d known each other since before his accident. As a medic on Kamino, you’d had plenty of interaction with the clones, and when he’d been found by Rex and the Batch, it was only natural for you to treat him. From then on, you’d sort of been paired together and had joined the Batch as their unofficial medic, although the term was ‘escort’. As if Echo needed one, you’d always scoffed. Through the months you’d become closer still, and it felt inevitable to the two of you that you’d end up together. Echo still remembered the shaking in your hands as you’d held his, eyes wide with anxiety when you told him how you felt.
That was four years ago. The home you’d built on Pabu for the two of you had quickly grown to become a safe zone for Echo, a place where he could relax slightly from the terrors of war. Not that he minded, since he volunteered to aid Rex and the Rebellion, but his body was beginning to fail him, and he was spending more and more time at home. This was how he had ended up in the bath, your special soaps filling the water and easing his aching muscles.
The door creaked open and you reappeared, holding a mug of tea. He watched as you shut the door, quietly wandered over to him, and sat on the ground. You let your weight lean against the bath on one side, your legs folding up to your chest with your tea cradled in your hands.
“When do you think you’ll be flying back to Rex?”
Echo sighed, brushing his hand over his face. “I dunno. Depends on my knees.”
“Hmm… is the water helping?” You sipped your tea.
“It is actually.”
He watched as you smiled behind the rim of your mug. “Maybe you should take baths more often.”
“Maybe I will. I must be a bloody hassle to get in and out though.”
“I don’t mind looking after you.”
“I'm well aware of that cyar’ika.”
The water splashed slightly as he lifted himself up to a sitting position. With his missing limbs, he struggled not to slip in the bath, but you’d been a Saint (as usual) and bought bath grips for the bottom of the surface. His thighs leant against them, hand gripping the handle of the wall that you’d had installed. When he was comfortable, he shifted so he could lean his arm over the side of the bath to rest his chin against. His fingers drummed against the porcelain.
Your eyes narrowed as he stared at you. “What?”
“I was thinking we should watch a movie later.”
“Ooh, which one?”
“Well-“
You put your mug down, snapping your fingers excitedly. “Oh, Phee was on about a horror that sounds pretty good. Or maybe we should watch something a bit more chill? Wait no, I’ve got it.”
Echo grinned, “go on.”
“Princess Mononoke. You’ll love it, I know it.”
“Alright, I’m happy with that. Is it on the Holonet?”
“Yeah. I’ll get it uploaded so we can watch it in bed.”
The soldier agreed, his head lolling to the side so his cheek was against his forearm. You’d never seen him so relaxed; it was quite the sight. Time seemed to pass quickly as you drank your tea and chatted with Echo, the pair of you easily slipping into conversation. Once the mug was empty, you put it down and dipped your hands into the water.
“Ooh getting a bit cold. Do you wanna get out soon?”
You watched Echo nod. “Please.”
“Okay,” your hands automatically found the shower gel you kept to the side, and squeezed some into your palms. When you started cleaning Echo’s skin, he began to protest but you interrupted with a tut.
“I want to. You’re supposed to be relaxing.”
“I guess there’s no stopping you then.” He tried not to smile but did anyway, turning around so you could reach his back.
Your hands worked mindfully around his spine, something which Echo had always been grateful for. You never treated him like he was delicate, but you were thoughtful and no longer needed to ask if what you were doing was alright. The micro-expressions Echo struggled to keep to himself always told you the answers you were looking for. As he turned around completely, you leant forward and pressed a kiss to his shoulder. The soldier smiled and tilted his head to the side, soapy hand coming up to tilt your chin so he could kiss you.
“Hmm,” he watched your eyes linger shut for a moment. “Legs?”
“I’ll do them.”
When he had finished cleaning his thighs, you helped him up onto the side of the bath so he could hold the handrail as you drained the water. The stub of his left arm found your side.
“Hey,”
“Hey.”
“Thank you.”
You smiled softly, “always.”
Hello! Congratulations on another follow event!! That is so awesome!!🎉🎉
I was looking at the list of AUs that you write out, and was wondering if you could write a Fairytale AU with Wrecker please? And the ball could be a masquerade which would add onto the not knowing who the slipper belongs to mystery! This would also be with a gender neutral reader please!
Masquerade
Summary: You’ve been pushing off your marriage for as long as you can. But your uncle has finally gotten fed up with your procrastination. He holds a massive ball, in the hopes that you might find a partner. You don’t have any control over the party…but you can demand that it’s a masquerade.
Pairing: Pre Wrecker x F!Reader
Word Count: 2648
Prompt: Cinderella AU
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: Alright! I wasn't sure, for a long time, as to how to write this, but I think I just needed to write something that wasn't an AU to get something out that I liked. I hope you like it!
The room is filled with people clad in stunning gowns, intricate suits, and glittering masks in every shade of color known to man. Flowers have been picked from the gardens, woven together, and wrapped around the pillars around the dance floor filling the room with a soft floral scent that you would normally enjoy.
But, from where you’re standing near the refreshment table, nursing a fruity drink that’s so sweet that a single sip made you nauseous, you can’t help but think that the people here look like glittering bugs.
And all of them, every single one, are here on the off chance that they will impress you enough for you to marry them.
Disgusting.
You set your glass back on the table, smooth the skirt of your leaf green dress, and absently ensure that your mask (designed to look like different flowers and vines) is still attached to your face, and then you turn to the crowd.
No one will recognize you, that was the whole point of the masquerade, maybe you’ll find someone interesting enough to talk to. You’re not going to hold your breath though, in your experience, nobility is incredibly vapid and shallow.
Honestly, you’d have a more interesting conversation with the orchids in the garden.
Still, if you don’t even try, you’re uncle will throw the mother of all fits, and then choose a partner for you, and you’d sooner throw yourself into a river than allow that to happen.
So you plaster a fake smile on your face and start weaving through the crowd.
A few people stop your wandering so they can talk to you, though when the conversation turns to you, well not you, but to the crowned princess (who is you, but they don’t know that), you excuse yourself. Especially when they start insulting you.
You really don’t need to hear how people think that you’re lazy or entitled or how ‘when I’m chosen I’ll put her in her place’.
Yeah, not going to happen. Ever.
Eventually, you find yourself sitting on the balcony overlooking the gardens. It’s a nice evening, not so hot that it’s sticky and miserable outside, but not so cold that you need a shawl to stay warm. You can still hear the music from outside, but no one else is outside with you.
Of course not. They expect the Princess to be inside.
You tilt your head back so you’re able to watch the stars. You trace constellations with your eyes, your gaze darting from one to the next, the myriad of stories racing through your mind as you find each constellation.
You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of footsteps on the balcony, and you lower your head to see who’s joined you outside.
A man.
Clad in a white suit and wearing a mask that almost looks like it was crafted out of crystal.
He looks surprised to see you, “Apologies,” He says with a sketched bow, “I thought that I’d be alone out here.”
You tilt your head, “The balcony is large enough that we can be alone together.”
He chuckles, a low noise that makes you feel pleasantly warm, and then he sinks onto one of the other benches. You watch him, out of the corner of your eye, as he removes one of his shoes and massages his feet.
“Do your shoes not fit?” You ask, unable to stop yourself.
“They’re new,” He explains, “My brothers and I got our invitations the day before yesterday.”
You blink at him, startled. That implies that he’s a commoner and that his family won the raffle. “Well, congratulations then. I understand that the raffle was very popular.”
He pauses and glances at you, and then a smile crosses his face, “Thanks. It was actually my older brother who put in the ticket, on behalf of our younger sister. She couldn’t come, she’s too young. But she liked seeing us all dressed up.”
“I bet she did. In my experience, all little girls like dress-up parties.”
He grins at you, “My brother would ask you to cite your sources.”
Your head tilts back as you laugh, genuinely amused, “Oh, very well. My sources are that I was a little girl once.” You grin at him, “I used to sit on my parents' bed when I was little and watch them get ready for parties, it was like magic to me.” You pause, “Of course, then I grew up and I realized how much I hated dressing up myself.”
“Well, you might hate it, but I happen to think that you look amazing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like a forest spirit or something.”
You’re glad that you’re wearing a mask, suddenly, so he’s not able to see the flustered flush on your face. “Well, thank you.” You reply as you lightly touch the flower tucked behind your ear, “That was the inspiration.”
“I can tell.” He pauses, “You know, I saw a forest spirit once. I was just a kid, and my siblings swear that I imagined the whole thing, but I know what I saw.”
“You’re lucky they didn’t kidnap you,” You reply.
“Don’t I know it,” He replies with a laugh, “But after that day I always felt more at home in the forests than anywhere else. I like to think that I got a forest spirit’s blessing that day.”
“Maybe you did. They do as they like, after all.” You fall silent for a moment, though you keep glancing at him, “I’m sorry,” You finally burst, “I have to ask, is your mask made of crystal?”
He looks surprised for a moment, but then he grins, “Sure is. The mask was sold with the suit. Even the shoes are meant to look like crystal.”
You lean over slightly to look at his shoes, “Well, no wonder they’re so uncomfortable,” You marvel, “How did they manage that, I wonder?”
“No idea, but the salesman was thrilled to shove both of them on me for cheap. They’re pretty comfortable, I keep forgetting that I’m wearing a mask at all.”
“Well, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? The whole point of today is the masquerade.”
“I thought the whole point was for the Princess to find a partner,” The man jokes.
You tilt your head, “Is that why you’re here? To marry the Princess?”
“I’m sure the princess wouldn’t be interested in someone like me.”
“Why would you think that?”
“Well, I’m kind of big. And a little rough around the edges. I don’t know the princess, only ever seen her on the holo, but she’s always seemed so dignified and put together. And, like, serene I guess.”
“Sounds like you admire her,” You murmur.
“I do admire her. After the King died and the Queen retreated from the public eye, people expected her to quail under the attention suddenly focused on her, but she didn’t. She stood firm and took all of the scrutiny. She was just a kid, it was…impressive.”
A small smile pulls on your lips, “You’re one of the few people here who have something nice to say about the princess.”
“Yeah, well…” He rubs the back of his neck, “I might have crushed on her, bad, when I was a kid.”
Your smile widens, “That’s cute.”
His face flushes, at least, the part you can see under the mask, “She looked like she could use a friend and a protector, and I figured I could be both. But I grew out of it.”
He glances at you, and his flush deepens at the look of amusement on your face, “A-anyway, isn’t that why you’re here? To marry the Princess?”
“Hm? Oh.” You lean back on the bench, “No, I’m here because my Uncle insisted. If I had my way, I wouldn’t be here at all, alas—”
“Do you not like the princess?”
“Hm…more like I don’t like the idea of marrying someone I don’t know.” You reply.
“I suppose that makes sense.” He folds his arms, “Do you think the Princess is happy for all of this?” He tilts his head back towards the ballroom.
You hum thoughtfully, “I wouldn’t be, in her shoes.” You absently smooth your skirt again, and then you stand, “Would you like to dance?”
“What? Here?”
You shrug, “Why not? The music is loud enough, and we don’t have to worry about people bumping into us.”
He stares at you a moment longer, and then he smiles and stands, “Alright. I’d love to dance.” He stands and offers you his hand, and you eagerly place your hand into his, “I should warn you, I’ve never danced before.”
“That’s alright, I’m sure I’ve had enough lessons to make up for it.” You joke as he, hesitantly, places his hand on your waist. You beam up at him, “I’m sure you’ll do great.”
The pair of you dance for hours, or so it seems. With you teaching him how to move and where to place his hands, and having genial conversation when you take breaks.
You quickly realize that you like him.
Genuinely like him.
You still don’t like the idea of marrying someone you don’t know, but if it’s him then maybe it won’t be so bad.
And then the party ends, and he’s gone and you never got his name. And all that’s left of his presence is the lingering warmth in your hand from where his hand had been wrapped around yours, and the crystalline mask that you found near a side exit half an hour after he left.
Thoughtfully, you bring the mask to your bedroom and set it on your dresser as you change out of your costume, your mind racing.
There aren’t many tailors who make masks, so tracking who made his mask will be easy enough. And, hopefully, the tailor will remember who bought the mask.
You hope so.
You finish donning your sleepwear and lightly trail a finger across the crystal of the mask. A smile crosses your face. Yes. He’s your choice. And if your uncle doesn’t like it…well, you’re over 18 and no longer need a regent. If he doesn’t like it, then he can pound sand.
It’s been three weeks since the masquerade, and Wrecker is still kicking himself for losing his mask. He knows that he must have dropped it at the palace, but it’s not like he can just show up and ask if he can look for it.
It’s a shame since Omega wanted to collect the masks.
Oh well, that’s life he supposes.
He runs his hand over his head as he heads downstairs, he lightly ruffles Omega’s hair, pulling a disgruntled noise from her, and then wanders into the kitchen where Echo and Fives are cooking breakfast.
Or, well, Fives is cooking breakfast and Echo is making coffee.
“Smells good,” Wrecker mumbles.
“It's better than good, the eggs are fresh and Crosshair made the bread this morning.” Fives replies.
“Crosshair did?”
“He’s working through some anger issues,” Echo pipes up, “We have lots of dough.”
“Oh. Well…good.”
“Morning,” Tech says as he walks into the room, clearly having been awake for hours now, “Have you heard the news?”
“No,”
“Nope.”
“I just woke up.”
Echo, Fives, and Wrecker speak in unison, causing Tech to blink at them. “Ah. Well, the Crowned Regent has been forcibly removed from the Throne. And the Crowned Princess was Coronated late last night. So she is Queen now.”
“Shouldn’t there have been a celebration?” Echo asks.
“I am sure that there are reasons—” Tech starts, only to pause as the doorbell rings.
“I got it!” Omega shouts, and then she scrapes her chair against the floor and they listen to her run to the front door, “Yes? Can we help yo—” Omega stops midsentence, and then she runs to the kitchen door, “Um.”
“What’s wrong, Meg?” Fives asks.
“The Queen is at the door. With her entourage.”
No one moves for a moment, and then they all start moving at the same time, scrambling into the living room with a frantic energy. The new Queen is standing in the foyer, thoughtfully looking at a picture of the group of brothers.
“Your Majesty,” Tech blurts, bowing deeply, “You honor us with your presence.”
She pauses and turns to look at them, a small smile on her face, and Wrecker is suddenly struck with the realization that he knows that smile. He spent hours with the woman who had the same smile.
“Please,” The Queen faces them properly, “There’s no need for that. I apologize for arriving so early.”
Wrecker stares at the Queen, his jaw slightly dropped. If the smile wasn’t proof enough, the voice was. She’s the person he spent the evening dancing with.
He confessed about his crush on the princess to the princess. Wrecker groans and presses his hand over his face, “You couldn’t have told me who you were?”
She laughs, “Well, that would have ruined the masquerade aspect, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, but I was talking about you. To your face.”
“At least it was all kind things, most everyone else was mean.” She says reassuringly.
Wrecker drops his hand away from his face, “Can I ask why you’re here?”
She releases a little hum and pulls something out of her bag, and Wrecker realizes that it’s his mask, “You left this behind. I’m glad you did, honestly, it would have been hard to find you without it.” She offers him the mask, and Wrecker takes it.
“Thank you, I was worried I’d never see it again.”
She beams at him, “Your name is Wrecker, yes? The Tailor told me.”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
Her smile widens, “I am not looking for a spouse, Wrecker. The idea of marriage makes me want to run screaming for the hills, however, my uncle filled the palace with people who support him, and I find myself in need of skilled bodyguards.”
“...are you offering us a job?” Fives asks.
“If you’re agreeable to the idea.” She replies, “In the last week there have been no less than three assassination attempts.”
“We have a lot of brothers,” Hunter says from the back door, “I’m sure we can make things safe for you.”
“You have my gratitude.” She turns to the man standing behind her, “Lesian, if you would?”
“Of course, your Majesty.” The man bows, and then pulls some paper from a bag he’s carrying, “I have some paperwork that you all should look over.”
Wrecker watches as his brothers follow the older man out of the living room, and then flickers his gaze back to the Queen. Her attention is focused back on the pictures on the walls, and he can’t help but think that she looks very lonely.
“Those were taken at the beach three years ago, I think.” Wrecker explains, “Hunter had just gotten custody of Omega, she was so small at the time.”
“I’ve never been.”
“To the beach?”
“Yeah. Father always promised to bring me one day, but after he died it just never happened.”
“I’ll bring you.”
She laughs, “Will you now?”
“Absolutely.” Wrecker folds his arms, “I know you said you’re not looking for a husband, but how about a friend?”
She turns to look at him, surprise clear on her face, and then she smiles at him, soft and warm, “I’ve never had a friend before.”
“That’s alright, I can teach you how it’s done.” Wrecker grins, “And if friendship turns into something more, well…that’s okay too, right?”
At that, she laughs. “So, that little crush on me-?”
“Didn’t fade as much as I thought.” He shrugs, “Luckily, I’m a patient man. Now, I have paperwork I need to fill out. Would you like to have breakfast with us?”
A blinding smile crosses her face, and Wrecker realizes that he’s in love with her, “It would be my honor, Wrecker.”
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L. Mid thirties, hoping to get lost in a galaxy far far away, clone wars, bad batch, and the high republic. She/her
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