Private Flame-Grilled Affection

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Coruscant had always been too loud for Izzy’s taste. Too fast. Too bright. But the new apartment — small, sunlit, hers — had a kind of peace to it. A window just big enough to see the sky between buildings. A clean kitchen that smelled like ambition and overconfidence.

She’d spent days preparing for this.

New plates. New wine glasses. She even bought real candles. Can you imagine, in this economy.

The plan had been simple: steak and trimmings. Annie loved meat. And Izzy, well... she loved Annie. They had been dating for a few weeks now, and it all became serious immediately. There was a flicker of apprehension, of fear, of old traumas coming to the surface for Izzy, but Annie had soothed it all, as it she was a balm for her very life. She had never been happier in her life before. And she liked to think, she was returning the favour.

Tonight was going to be special, though. Tonight, she would make a delicious meal for her love.

There was only one problem.

Izzy had no idea how to cook.

Years aboard mining rigs and backwater transports had taught her many things. How to fix a broken cooling unit with three wires and a prayer. How to charm a grumpy mechanic into sharing rations. How to rewire a navconsole in zero gravity.

But cook a steak?

Absolutely the heck not.

Still, she’d followed the recipe to the letter. Probably. Mostly. Okay — she might’ve substituted a few ingredients, and the oil had definitely been too hot, but she was sure she had it under control right up until—

FOOOOM.

The pan exploded with flame.

"S-STARS—!"

Izzy jumped back, nearly tripping over her own boots, batting at the air with a towel like it owed her money. The steak was now somewhere between charcoal and ruin. The smoke alarm blared overhead with the enthusiasm of a Coruscanti parade.

"Frickin'—son of a—"

She yanked the pan off the burner and stared at it. Her beautiful dinner. Her romantic, thoughtful, perfect first cooked meal for Annie—

Now a blackened slab of defeat.

Izzy’s shoulders sagged. The towel dropped from her hand. Smoke curled from the edges of the meat like mockery.

And that was when the first tear fell. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just a single, quiet betrayal sliding down her cheek.

She sniffed. Wiped her face on her sleeve. And whispered to no one in particular:

"...Maybe she likes it well done."

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine
​

The moment she opened the door, she knew something was off.

Not wrong, exactly — but something in the air had shifted. It wasn't just the faint, lingering smoke that curled along the ceiling like a ghost too shy to leave. Or the scent — a heavy, unmistakable mix of charred ambition and something that might've once been garlic. No, it was the feeling that tugged at her chest as she stepped inside. Something tender. Something breakable, and already blooming.

She eased off her boots, slow and quiet, the way she might have approached a skittish creature. Or a moment too beautiful to startle. Her footsteps were soft on the floor as she rounded the corner into the kitchen — and there she was.

Standing in the middle of it all, like she'd just lost a duel with dinner and lived to tell the tale.

Hair a little wild, cheeks flushed from heat or nerves or both, and shirt clinging slightly from the haze in the air. Her stance was defiant but soft — towel limp in one hand, the other hovering near a scorched pan that looked like it had witnessed unspeakable acts. Smoke still wove its lazy fingers around the light fixture. And on the counter behind her, candles — real ones — sat half-melted and hopeful. New plates. A bottle of wine that hadn't been opened yet. All of it — every part — spoke of effort. Of someone who wanted this. Who wanted her.

She didn't speak. Not at first.

She just looked at her — really looked — and something inside her gave way. Not in a dramatic collapse, but a quiet surrender. A falling. A knowing.

Because no one had ever done this for her before.

Not like this. Not with this much heart. This much nerve.

She crossed the room slowly, reverently, like she was walking into something sacred — and maybe she was. She slipped her arms around her from behind, settling against her back like a heartbeat too full to keep still.

"I leave you alone for one evening," she murmured against her shoulder, "and you nearly burn down the entire district?"

Her lips grazed warm skin. Her fingers brushed soot from her sleeve like it was a love letter.

Then softer. Deeper.

"You cooked for me."

There was wonder in the words. As if they tasted strange on her tongue — too good to be real.

"You tried to cook for me."

She turned her gently, coaxed her around with hands that lingered at her waist like they belonged there. And when their eyes met, she saw it all — the anxiety, the effort, the absolute earnestness behind it. The single tear that still clung to the edge of her cheek, unshed but shimmering.

So she cupped her face and kissed her — long, slow, reverent. Like she could memorize her with mouth and breath alone.

When she pulled away, it was barely an inch. Just enough to whisper against lips still parted:

"This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."

A pause.

A smile curled through her voice.

"Even if the steak does look like it crash-landed on Mustafar."

She kissed her again, smiling now — warm, head-over-heels, all in.

"Come on," she said, threading their fingers together. "Let's order something before we set off the alarms again. Then you can tell me every heroic detail. I want the full saga."

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy let out a shaky breath — half a laugh, half a sob — and wiped at her cheek with the back of her wrist.

"I... really wanted to do something special," she mumbled, eyes flicking down to the poor, blackened steak like it had personally betrayed her hopes and dreams.

"I mean, it was supposed to be steak. With, like... fancy trimmings. Garlic butter. Actual fresh vegetables, not frozen. The whole thing. Like real people make." Her voice cracked on a chuckle. "But the pan caught, and then I dropped the tongs, and then—" She made a flustered gesture toward the smoldering scene of culinary war. "I don’t know, Annie. I just wanted to do something right." Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her shirt.

"I’ve never really had a home before. Not like this. And you… you make it feel like I could. Like I do. I wanted to show you that. I wanted this to be, y'know... ours."

And then came the kiss.

Annie’s lips still lingered in its warmth — that gentle, steady kind that didn’t try to fix anything, just held it. The tenderness in it, the quiet love, melted something inside Izzy that she'd been holding shut. She leaned into it, eyes closing, heart stammering somewhere in her throat. When they finally parted, barely, she exhaled with a soft, dazed grin and whispered ever so quietly.

"You always know exactly what to say."

There was a moment of calm — of fragile peace in the smoke-scented kitchen. Then Izzy sniffed, glanced sheepishly toward the still-charred pan, and muttered quietly.

"So... uh. How do you feel about takeout? I'm thinking... anything that doesn't require fire."

She looked up through lashes still wet, playful now, lighter.

"What are you in the mood for, miracle girl?"

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Anneliese stood still in the kitchen's haze, the kiss still lingering between them like the warmth of a just-lit hearth. The smoke curled lazily above the blackened pan, a soft gray crown for the ruin of a well-meant dinner, but Annie wasn't looking at the wreckage anymore.

She was looking at her.

Izzy, cheeks smudged faintly with smoke and emotion, hands nervously twisting at her shirt, eyes rimmed with tears she was too brave to hide. She was still smiling—awkward, self-effacing, a little shy—and it struck Anneliese straight in the chest how completely beautiful she was.

Not just her face, or the way her voice cracked when she tried to laugh through the ache. But the heart underneath. The way she cared so hard it caught fire.

Anneliese reached out and curled a hand gently beneath Izzy's chin, lifting it just enough so their eyes met fully.

"Izzy…" Her voice came low, a hush in the space between them. "You didn't need to cook me something perfect. You already did something special."

She let her thumb brush just below her jaw—barely there, soft and reverent.

"You tried."

A small smile ghosted across her lips. "You thought about garlic butter and fresh vegetables and making it ours. That means more to me than anything you could've plated."

She let the silence hold for a beat. Then her arms came around Izzy's waist, slow and certain, and she pulled her close, letting the other girl melt against her chest like the tension had finally given permission to break.

Anneliese pressed her cheek to Izzy's hair.

"You make it feel like home, too." Her breath was warm. Truthful. "Even with the smoke."

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped in the quiet crackle of a cooling stovetop and the soft rhythm of shared breath. Then Annie leaned back just enough to glance toward the battlefield of a skillet.

Her lips twitched.

"We're both still alive, which feels like a victory."

A pause. Her gaze returned to Izzy's, steady and unshakably warm.

"I say we declare the kitchen a disaster zone and order sushi before something else catches fire."

A soft grin now. "I like the good kind. With the real wasabi. And the crispy rolls that always fall apart when you try to look elegant eating them."

She tilted her head, expression playful and utterly smitten.

"What do you say, chef? Chopsticks and a blanket fort?"

Then, softer, as she brushed a knuckle along Izzy's cheek again—

"You don't have to try so hard to be perfect for me. You already are."

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy’s laugh came out wobbly — part-choked by the lump still in her throat, part-sputtered from the sheer absurdity of it all. The burned steak. The ruined vegetables. The smoke alarm that had nearly gone off if not for her wild, towel-flapping intervention. And Annie... standing there in the midst of it, still looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the galaxy.

Stars.

She blinked a few times, biting down on her bottom lip to keep it from trembling again. But Annie’s hand was still on her cheek, that thumb grazing so softly it made something deep in her chest ache in the best way. She leaned into the touch without thinking — like it was instinct now. Like breathing.

She gave a helpless little laugh and pressed her forehead lightly against Annie’s, drawing in a deep breath that smelled like smoke and cinnamon and her — stars, always her. Annie’s arms around her, that cheek nestled against her hair — it had unraveled her completely. She hadn’t known how much she needed to hear that she was enough — even when things went wrong. Maybe especially when they did.

When Annie leaned back with that teasing glint in her eyes and proposed sushi and a blanket fort, Izzy sniffled and let out a laugh that was brighter this time. Real. Healing.

"Only if I get to be the one who folds the corners," she said, eyes shining with mischief now, a little teary still, but warming. "I'll have you know I take blanket engineering very seriously."

She kissed her, soft and quick, right at the corner of her mouth. Then again, slower this time, savouring the feel of Annie’s lips under hers. Letting herself lean in and fall a little further. When she pulled back, her voice was quiet. Honest. Tender.

“You’re my favourite thing I’ve ever tried for.”

And then — because the sushi place they liked closed in 20 minutes — she tugged Annie gently toward the couch with a grin blooming full now.

"Okay. Emergency blanket fort. Crispy rolls. And maybe," she glanced over her shoulder with mock sternness, "You tell me your actual favourite sauce this time so I don’t order the wrong one again."

And just like that — disaster faded into delight. The smell of smoke gave way to warm takeout, soft pillows, and two hearts wrapped in flannel and flickering candlelight.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine​

Annie was done for.

Not in the cute, casual sense. Not even in the "wow, she's really got it bad" kind of way.

No—this was annihilation.

Izzy laughed—wobbly, breath-catching, a sound threaded with leftover tears and wild-eyed absurdity—and Annie actually forgot how to stand for a second. Just short-circuited. There was smoke in the kitchen, a steak that might as well have been cremated, vegetables she could only describe as tragic, and yet all she could think about was the way Izzy leaned into her palm like it was instinct.

By the Maker, she didn't stand a chance.

Then Izzy pressed her forehead to hers—again, like she knew exactly how to break her—and Annie felt it: that same deep, seismic pull. Like gravity had shifted and realigned itself to a single point, and that point had freckles and kitchen-smoke curls and kissed her with unbearable softness at the corner of her fething mouth.

"Feth," Annie breathed, quiet. Not a curse—an exhale. A prayer.

She followed Izzy to the couch in a daze, her hand still tingling from where their fingers had laced. She tried to keep the teasing up, to mask the absolute spiral going on inside her. "Okay, you can have the corners," she said, voice light, a little shaky. "But this is a serious engineering operation. Structural collapse will not be tolerated."

Izzy just looked at her with that grin, half-sunshine, half-trouble, and Annie felt her composure take a nosedive.

"Do you have to be like this?" she asked, barely getting the words out. "All soft and smart and fething devastating with your blanket fort standards?"

It was supposed to be a joke. Kind of. But her voice cracked right at the end because, Maker, it was true.

These past few weeks hadn't been simple. Not sweet little love, not candlelit cliches. It had been a pull—deep, inevitable, terrifying in its rightness. Every kiss, every glance, every laugh she drew from Izzy like it was oxygen—it hooked into her. And she couldn't stop wanting more. Couldn't stop chasing that high.

Izzy kissed her again—slower, real—and Annie forgot how to breathe.

She swallowed, blinking fast, trying not to look as shaken as she felt. "Okay," she said at last, voice low, eyes locked on hers. "You win. I'm yours. Blanket fort surrender."

Then, gently—gods, gently—she reached out and ran her fingers along Izzy's jaw, brushing a thumb beneath her eye like she was afraid the moment might vanish. Her voice dropped to something unsteady but sure.

"You don't even know, do you? What you do to me. I've flown into battles less dangerous than loving you."

She pulled her hand away before she said too much, then grabbed a pillow and tossed it onto the floor with a dramatic sigh. "Now hurry up and build our fortress. I need a safe place to be hopelessly in love with you."

And Maker, did she ever.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy was glowing. She might not have known it, standing there barefoot in the living room with soot-smudged cheeks and a half-unbuttoned shirt from all the heat, but she was. Her whole chest was warm, fluttery, and fizzing like the corked wine bottle that still sat unopened on the counter. The way Annie looked at her — the way she said those words.

"You don't even know, do you? What you do to me."

It hit Izzy like sunlight through frost. Her face flushed instantly, a radiant shade of pink blooming from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it again, then finally managed a quiet little "oh," that sounded entirely insufficient for the hurricane of feeling inside her.

Her fingers curled a little tighter around the blanket she’d grabbed in her rush to look productive, heart racing. Annie’s words echoed in her mind, looping on repeat.

Flown into battles less dangerous than loving you.

Stars.

She was doomed. In the best way.

—

Twenty minutes later...

The sushi had arrived.

So had the fortress.

And it was glorious.

Izzy had outdone herself. The blanket fort took up half the living room — thick flannel panels pinned with hair clips and old metal tools for weight, a central support rigged up with a mop handle and a repurposed coat rack. String lights wove through the edges like starlight, casting everything in a warm, golden haze. Inside were pillows of every size and a comforter stolen from the bed, now their shared nest.

Izzy was on her side, legs tucked, watching Annie with an expression that hovered somewhere between reverence and mischief. The little takeout boxes were nestled between them, chopsticks clutched in hand — though Izzy hadn’t touched hers in the past minute.

Instead, she picked up a neatly cut piece of sushi with her fingers, leaning forward, and with exaggerated care, she lifted it toward Annie’s mouth — holding it there like an offering. Her thumb brushed her bottom lip, not quite accidental, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke.

"Say 'ahh'."

She was flirting, but the affection behind it was real. So painfully real. And inside, that warm buzz of happiness curled deeper into her chest like it had found a home.

 

[Anneliese Kaohal]

Items: Lightsaber I Engagement Ring I Outfit X X II Equipment X X X I Theme Song I Bloodline Tattoo | Sigil Bead Necklace ( Gift )

Tags: Isola Delaine
​

Annie didn't move at first.

Not when Izzy picked up the roll with her fingers.

Not when that familiar gleam lit up her eyes.

Not even when that soft, lilting "Say ahh" came out like a dare wrapped in devotion.

No—Annie just looked at her. A beat too long. Like she was memorizing something.

Then, with slow, deliberate grace, she leaned in.

Her lips brushed the edge of the offered sushi, careful at first. She could've taken it quick—polite, efficient, over and done—but no. She wrapped her mouth around it slowly, letting her lips drag over Izzy's fingers in the process. Warm, parted, reverent.

And then she didn't stop.

Her mouth stayed there. Just long enough to let her lips close around the pads of Izzy's fingers. Just long enough to suck, gentle and quiet and intended. Like the sushi was secondary. Like this—this connection, this act—was the real meal.

When she finally pulled back, her tongue swept the corner of her lip. Her voice came low, quiet, like her breath had caught somewhere behind her ribs.

"You do that on purpose?"

She didn't wait for the answer. Her voice dipped again, dry as desert heat.

"Of course you fething did."

Her cheeks were flushed now, visibly, unmistakably, but she didn't hide it. She held Izzy's gaze like she was clinging to it—like it steadied her through the hurricane building inside her chest.

"I've fought wars less intense than that sushi handoff."

Annie leaned back on one hand, pretending to catch her breath, but her other was still outstretched between them, fingers brushing Izzy's wrist like she couldn't quite let go. There was a hitch in her chest that hadn't settled since Izzy touched her. Since that mouthful of seaweed and temptation.

"I'm serious," she murmured, tone quiet now, roughened by honesty. "I was doing fine. I had control. And then you come in here smelling like fire and cinnamon and acting like feeding me dinner is foreplay."

She shook her head once, as if trying to clear it. It didn't work.

"Izzy." Her voice softened. Broke just slightly on her name. "You're going to undo me. You know that?"

She reached over again—this time for her own sushi—and held it up like a peace offering, but her hand trembled just slightly.

"I get one shot to even the score."

Then, almost under her breath, eyes half-lidded:

"Open your mouth for me, pretty girl."

The fort was quiet.
The food between them forgotten.

And in that golden hush, Annie swore she could feel every beat of her heart line up with the shape of Izzy's smile.

 

[Isola Delaine]

Tag: Anneliese Kaohal

Izzy froze. Not because she was shy. Not exactly. But because something about the way Annie called her 'pretty girl' — like a secret, like a sin, like she was already halfway gone — short-circuited every coherent thought in her brain. Her lips parted instinctively. A sharp breath. Then a slow, unsteady exhale.

Stars.

She leaned in, eyes locked with Annie’s, the tip of her tongue just visible between her teeth before she opened her mouth — slow, obedient, wanting. The piece of sushi was placed delicately on her tongue, but Izzy didn’t pull away. Not yet.

She stayed there, lips dangerously close, brushing just the edge of Annie’s fingers — deliberately, shamelessly — and then let them linger, sucking softly on the pads of her fingertips just like Annie had done moments ago.

Her silver eyes didn’t waver.

When she pulled back, her voice was low. Breathless. Threaded with want.

"...Guess I did do that on purpose."

A beat passed. The space between them felt molten. Reverent. Just barely held together by restraint.

She shifted closer in the cushions, her knee brushing Annie’s hip beneath the blankets, hand sliding lightly to the dip of her waist. Her forehead pressed to Annie’s again. Their breaths mingled — warm, tasting faintly of rice and wasabi and something far more intoxicating.

Izzy kissed her.

It wasn’t teasing. It wasn’t soft.

It was claiming.

Lips that didn’t ask, but promised. Hands that held her like she’d been waiting her whole life to do it right. As if promising she wouldn’t run, wouldn’t retreat, wouldn’t lose her. When they finally broke for air, she murmured a soft tease against her lips, voice shaking with reverence.

"Blanket fort’s got soundproofing... right?"

She kissed her again.

And in the warmth of paper lantern light, beneath a ceiling made of blankets and stars, their dinner grew cold—

—but nothing else did.

* * *​