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separatist-apologist · 2 years ago

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The Wildest Winter

In the cracks of light, I looked for you

Summary: Viviane had not been Under the Mountain. As her childhood friend, Kallias had been protective of her to a fault over the years- had placed the sharp-minded female on border duty to avoid the scheming of his court. He didn't let her near Amarantha, either. Didn't let anyone get a whiff of what he felt for his white-haired friend, who had no clue- not one- that he had loved her his entire life.

[50 years before Feyre]

Kallias stood before the army that had defended Winter for centuries. Amarantha, too, surveyed them with gleaming interest.

“Yours isn’t half as large as Autumns,” she crooned, her eyes sliding up his clothed chest. Beside her, Rhysand from Night grinned, as if every filthy remark she made was the height of comedy.

Kallias could have forgiven Rhysand if he’d done what Beron Vanserra was attempting to do—seem mildly pleased with Amarantha’s cruelty, without outright joining her. But Rhysand had sold them all out and for what? Kallias heard half his court had been wiped out the morning after Amarantha’s coup. Perhaps he truly did thrive in darkness, and it didn’t matter who wielded it, so long as he got to have his fun.

Kallias also didn’t bother to mention that this was merely three fourths of his army. The rest were with Viviane at the border. Not enough to challenge Hybern and still better than nothing at all. He knew what Amarantha meant to do the moment she raised her hands. Rhysand stepped forward, her little puppet given Amarantha couldn’t actually utilize their magic. She was merely a rather ugly box, holding it until someone managed to steal it all back.

Kallias didn’t dare close his eyes. Standing beneath a bright morning sun in snow that came to his knees, he watched that entire army collapse to the ground row by row like falling dominoes. It was all a miserable waste of life. Kallias meant to send a letter to every family, to offer them a warrior's burial even if Amarantha mangled their corpses, too. As if that offered their families any peace.

“Anything else?” Amarantha asked, eyes sliding to Rhysand. Kallias refused to speak, furious when that claw slid itself over his own mind. It was a warning of what Rhys could do to him should he choose, a violation of everything Kallias was.

“Just his hatred.”

Amarantha mockingly pouted. “You hate me? Perhaps some time at court will fix that.”

Her cursed court in their sacred mountain. Kallias waited for Amarantha to turn her back before he spat at Rhysand’s boots. Rhys merely smiled, rolling his eyes. As if it was all some hilarious joke. He was too busy obeying Amarantha’s every whim to truly look into Kallias’s mind, which was a blessing.

Kallias knew what he’d find. Viviane and Wegen and everything he loved and held dear, laid out for a mad woman to wreck and ruin. He had no doubt she wouldn’t torture Viviane just to see Kallias submit.

He pushed all thoughts of Viviane from his mind until Amarantha and Rhys departed. Off to harass another court–Spring, if he had to guess. He still had his spies, just like everyone else. Only Tamlin refused to submit. Kallias wondered if he’d choose the same fate had Amarantha wanted him to be her consort.

Kira came out of the palace, dressed like a courtier and not a warrior. She’d wanted to join and Kallias had told her no. He needed someone. Nikolai was gone—all that was left was Kira. It was odd to see her dressed in a pine green, fur lined gown and yet it was better than staring down at her dead body.

“Want help?” she whispered.

Kallias swallowed. He wanted to fall to the ground and scream at the gods. There were so many bodies that the only true way to dispose of them all was to burn them. It was still a warrior's death and yet Kallias thought the snow would never fall white again. The stain of Amarantha’s cruelty, the ash of the dead, would linger for centuries after her inevitable death.

It wasn’t just him and Kira. Anyone who could, came to help stack pyres and bodies. To lay coins and offer prayers and light torches. It was utter misery, writing the names in the journal Viviane had sent for his birthday. He’d meant to use it to write her love letters, not remember the seemingly endless dead.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her. There had been no response from Viviane, though his fox had returned. She’d read his letter, had taken the ring, and done exactly what he wanted. To send a response risked everyone now in her care—and yet, Kallias was so deeply, unearthly afraid of what she made of it.

He needed to get Viviane out of his mind or he’d never survive. Regardless of her personal feelings, Viviane would never abandon Winter—or him, for that matter. Swallowing a deluge of tears, Kallias scanned the horizon. Not out of love—he willed himself to be made of ice. To pretend he felt nothing at all.

He knew he wasn’t the only High Lord with a culled army. With a populace now suffering for Hybern’s continued success. Everything Winter was capable of producing had now been doubled, only to route all of it to Hybern. If he wanted to ensure his people didn’t starve, Kallias had to demand a triple output.

While acrid smoke curled towards an icy sky, Kallias turned his back to all of it. He was a leashed High Lord, worse than the male before him. He’d get everyone killed through simple inaction. It was a choice to do nothing and Kallias couldn't abide by it. Wouldn’t. He’d rather die than see his home reduced to an enslaved territory.

“What are you thinking?” Kira whispered, eyes scanning his face. Telling her was a death sentence.

The whole damn thing was a death sentence. She’d been spared because she was a member of his court before she was his captain. She could have fled—he’d given tacit permission the very night he’d lost his powers. Some of his court already had, packed up for the continent before the dust had even settled.

If they ever managed to get free, Kallias would be executing traitors.

“I’m thinking she can’t rule us all unless we’re complacent,” he all but whispered, yanking Kira into his bed-chamber—away from prying ears.

“They won’t all fight back,” Kira whispered, her voice so, so soft. And Kallias knew that. Beron would wait it out to see if they had a shot before he ever entertained the thought. Rhysand was an obvious no—he’d been so quick to align himself with Amarantha that Kallias couldn’t fathom his motivations. Thesan, too, was unlikely to join unless he knew they had a clear path to victory and Tamlin was too busy trying to break the curse (at least, he hoped) to consider war.

That left Summer and Day. Atticus and Phoebus. He didn’t know them at all.

Nothing forbade Kallias from reaching out. From writing twin letters asking the High Lords if they’d like to have a meal and discussing how they might redesign long established trade and taxes in an effort to keep their collective people from starving.

“Kallias,” Kira all but pleaded, reading over his shoulder. “Kallias, she will kill you.”

“She’s going to anyway. Once she’s gotten whatever she’s after, she’ll kill us all,” he replied, well aware his words were only angering Kira further. He knew it, though. Knew in his bones that none of them would be allowed to live. Even Rhysand, for all his calculated treachery, would die in the end. He wouldn’t go groveling—wouldn’t leave the world a coward on his knees.

“Viviane will kill you, Kal,” Kira hissed, grabbing him by the arm when he tried to walk past her. It was enough to stop him, to force him to think about her again. What was she doing?

Did she miss him?

“Viviane would understand,” Kallias decided, turning to look at Kira. He felt resigned to this fate, to always wondering without ever knowing. “She would never love me if I rolled over like a traitor.”

“She would want you to survive.”

Kallias held out a hand, unable to draw up even the barest frost. Everything he had, he’d given to Viv. Surely she understood the implications. He was wholly leashed–he had nothing to defend himself with. The once endless river that flowed through him wasn’t even a drip. It was a poisoned sludge he couldn’t touch, lest he betray Viviane and the rest of his home.

“If I’m successful, we will survive,” he said, careful with his framing. “She’ll survive, and so will I.”She had his heart, after all. Kallias didn’t want it back—she could keep it even when he died. Kira only shook her head, as pale as Kallias so often was.

“You’re stupid,” she whispered.

“The alternative is doing nothing. I would rather…” Kallias took a gulping breath, swallowing his anger. It wasn’t right, directing it at Kira. She should have been with Viviane and they both knew it. It should have been Nikolai with him. Nikolai would have understood what was necessary, that duty always came first. Kallias was half glad Viviane had him—Nikolai would temper some of her impulsivity.

“The alternative is Rhysand,” he finally told her. “Doing nothing is still a choice—it helps her. I can’t…how could I ever look Viviane in the eye and ask her to love me when I sat aside and let a foreign despot destroy our home?”

Kira wrapped her arms around the blue coat she wore. “This is why you’re High Lord, Kal. I don’t think you’ll succeed, but I’m with you until the end.”

He took a breath. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Kallias needed hope.

He had nothing else.

VIVIANE:

[40 years before Feyre]

Refugees had been trickling into Wegen over the last decade from more than just Winter. Whatever was happening in Autumn sent people scrambling for the mountains, hoping for safety in Winter. A border Viviane had once been tasked with defending was now wide open. She and Nikolai had decided if someone survived, they deserved to be let in.

No one was allowed to leave. No letters could be sent out, warded impossibly tight by the remainder of Kallias’s magic. It was the only way she could justify letting people in at all—once they knew, even if they hadn’t realized or meant to come, they were not allowed to leave. Viviane and Nikolai locked the city down at sunset, patrolling heavily at every exit. She had bears and wolves trained in the woods and though no one had ever tried to escape, Viviane could imagine a scenario some fifty years in the future where someone got desperate.

You could argue with soldiers, at least. Plead for mercy.

The bears would merely shred someone to pieces.

Most days, Viviane could pretend nothing had changed. Kallias was High Lord, which meant he was too busy to visit. She had that ring hidden in one of her drawers, his letter stuffed between the pages of a book. Viviane could go a full week without digging either of them out for her inspection. It had taken her a decade to manage.

And though she had his last letter committed to memory, Viviane was still no closer to a decision regarding her own feelings. Of course she loved him. Kallias had been her best friend for the duration of her life. He always would be. He’d never given her even an inkling that he loved her, and she’d never once considered it.

Considered him. Kallias was off-limits, and why want something you knew wasn’t for you? She could be practical. Rational, even.

And if Viviane was honest, she was so, so angry with him. He’d made yet another decision without consulting her. He’d been in love with her since he was ten years old and never, in the centuries they’d been alive, had he ever thought to involve her in that. To tell her. He’d instead sent her far, far away from him and part of Viviane wondered if he hadn’t done that to keep anyone else from taking her from him.

If he hadn’t done it to keep her from distracting him.

Fingers snapped in front of her face. Viviane looked up from the dining table and her rapidly cooling porridge. Nikolai was the only thing keeping her from saying fuck it, and going back to the palace to demand he answer for himself.

“Are you going to eat today?” he asked. She needed to. She couldn’t fall apart, not when so many people were counting on her. It was another spartan meal. Everything in Wegen was self-contained. They could no longer count on the support of the rest of the realm, and Viviane wasn’t going to be the reason someone went hungry. She took a bite, and then another, silently scarfing down the food in response to Nikolai’s watchful gaze.

“Sentries think there are refugees from the capitol coming.”

Viviane knew what that meant. Kallias had personally sent her someone. She nodded, mentally calculating all the things she needed to do. They’d been drafting anyone willing to serve into the only standing military left in Winter. It had once been open only to High Fae—Viviane had very quickly abolished that, which saw a surge in membership, and had created what she thought was a rather vibrant, almost terrifying army in all of Prythian, assuming the rumors about the winged monsters Rhysand supposedly commanded wasn’t true.

“Let's go check,” she agreed with a heavy sigh.

They were quick to button themselves into warm coats and fur-lined boots before heading out into the cold. Viviane jammed her hands into her pockets, her thoughts were more restless than usual. Dawn had broken a brilliant pink over the city, throwing blinding light over freshly fallen snow. In some ways, everything seemed normal—she could hear the sounds of the bustling market and children screaming. A calendar of the week's events was tacked to a light pole. Now that travel was banned and no one could leave, a group of upbeat citizens worked each week to create activities that brought everyone together. Viviane noted cooking classes, quilting circles, and combat lessons in regular intervals.

She’d gone on ice skating excursions on more than one occasion if only to continue the charade that everything was normal. Kallias was just busy.

Kallias was coming back.

She and Nikolai made their way to the now gated entrance of the city. A group of ten lesser fae sentries waited, shifting nervously as they always did. Winter, like all of Prythian, was divided among the High and Lesser—Viviane couldn’t undo millennia of injustice over the course of a decade.

“Riyan,” she said with a smile instead, looking up at the ice-coated male. He was the perfect supervisor of the guard, given he stood nearly nine feet tall and his face had never once broken anything but a frown.

Today, he offered her a grim smile. Viviane’s heart stuttered in her chest as fear coated her tongue. Nikolai, scenting it on the icy wind, took half a step forward to peer around the males.

“Oh,” he whispered, pushing open the opalescent gate quickly. Viviane half hoped it would be the High Lord waiting on the other end, come to tell her the ordeal was over.

It was her mother. Only her mother, bundled in warm furs. Her hands laid protectively over a sling on her chest, and as Viviane came closer, she realized it was a child sleeping, tucked away from the cold.

“Where is dad?” she asked, her stomach splattering at her feet.

Her mother blinked her jewel-bright eyes. “There was—” she stopped herself, her voice cracking. No one moved as they waited, the first news they’d head of the rest of Prythian in over a decade.

“Rebellion,” her mother finally whispered. “Your father is dead.”

Nikolai joined Viviane on the edge of their border, dark eyes searching her mother’s face as if there was some clue he might uncover.. “What do you mean there was rebellion?”

She swallowed hard, rubbing the white, fur-lined fabric that held the child. Viviane’s only sibling.

“The High Lord allied with Day and Summer,” she all but whispered, a tear slipping down her cheek. Viviane rubbed a hand rough against her face, drinking in her mother's elegant silver hair pulled off her lovely face. She hadn’t seen her in so long, had forgotten just how much she missed her family. “They tried to bring an end to her rule.”

“What happened?” Nikolai demanded. Viviane came forward, reaching into the sling to pull out the baby. A little pink and silver bow was pinned against pretty, snow-white hair. The child flung out chubby little arms, her mouth pulling in a tiny frown but ultimately she settled against Viviane’s body. As if she knew she was safe.

“The High Lords are dead,” her mother said. Viviane was grateful she held the baby—she might have winnowed to the capitol on the spot. “Day and Summer lost their High Lords.”

“And us? Did we lose ours?” Nikolai pressed, his olive skin ashen with fear. She shook her head.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Viviane turned plaintive eyes to Nikolai.

Please, she silently begged, holding her sister so tightly she threatened to wake her. Her legs shook with fear, the wound in her chest opening until she was certain she must be bleeding all over the dark cobblestone.

“I left because the High Lord told me to go. And I heard—” her mother's voice broke a second time, eyes shifting to the child Viviane held. “I heard she punished us by killing the children at court.”

Nikolai shook his head back and forth. Behind him, every sentry turned their faces away, struck by the sheer cruelty of such an act.

“She wouldn’t dare,” Nikolai breathed.

“Please,” Viviane whispered.

“I’ll go,” Nikolai agreed. “Because my High Lady is ordering me to, and I obey.”

She ignored the way her mother’s eyes widened, or how the wind carried his silent words to the city behind them. It was well-known, to Wegen, at any rate, that Viviane was the seat of power.

Nikolai stepped away from her, inclining his head respectfully. She watched him start down the road, certain that he would wait until he was far from the city to winnow. She knew Nikolai would die to protect their secrets.

She knew he’d come back.

“Come on, mama,” Viviane whispered, her chest aching. Father was dead.

Kallias was too.

“Let's get out of the cold.”

KALLIAS:

[40 years before Feyre]

He was being summoned beneath the mountain. He, Helion and Tarquin would not be allowed to return to their homes. Kallias had sent away anyone he could reasonably spare that was willing to go. Many of his courtiers had opted to remain in a show of silent support he didn’t deserve.

Twenty dead younglings. Every child in his court had been slaughtered in the cruelest way imaginable. Rhysand’s power, though the High Lord had been too cowardly to show his face, had ripped through the children in the night. Waking them from the pain, forcing frantic parents out of bed while their children endured a slow, painful death.

Kallias had been spared. He couldn’t fathom why.

No one had presented him with the option. Amarantha had merely delighted that he remained alive and Kallias privately wondered if she held the older High Lords of Day and Summer more accountable than him.

Or, perhaps she had grown bored with the killing, with the not knowing which new High Lord’s would arise after slaughtering the families of Summer and Day. Helion had been merely a scholar, and Tarquin the prince of Adriata, so far removed from the High Lord’s family by marriage and birth that, had they not all been murdered, he never would have been more than a prince.

He had no family to kill. No parents left alive, no wife, no children. Only his court, now left in crumbling ruins. He’d been given a week to bury his dead, but his palace was in shambles, wrecked and crumbling. Five sets of parents had chosen to follow after their children, and Kallias couldn’t bring himself to look at the rest of them.

So he sat on that throne of ice, alone in his throne room. Immovable, drowning in his guilt. Trapped under the sacred mountain was a fitting punishment for the High Lord who had sent twenty children to their death. He couldn’t contain his grief, couldn’t squash his misery.

Footsteps echoed on marble. Somewhere in that dim room, Kira stood as she always did. She’d send the interloper away.

“Nik,” her voice breathed. Kallias looked up, stunned to see his friend striding through the cracked columns of the once magnificent throne room. Kira, his mirror image ever since the atrocity, seemed to crumble at the sight of him. Nikolai looked well. His cheeks were pink from the cold, but his brown eyes were bright, his hair neat, his spine straight. He looked as if he’d been eating well—like he slept at night.

He adjusted his blue jacket, catching Kira against his chest mere seconds before she might have slid to the ground at his feet. He held her, pressing his face into her dark hair. Kallias felt new fear sweep over him, forcing him to his feet.

“Viviane is–”

“Alive,” Nikolai assured him, not releasing Kira. “And I can’t stay long. I swore I’d come and see if you survived.”

Alive. Kallias descended those steps numbly. She’d sent Nikolai to check on him? Kallias blinked away the urge to fall to his knees, to give in to the sobs he’d been suppressing. He had no right to cry. No right to do anything but accept his punishment silently. Gratefully.

No right to Viviane’s concern. No right to her at all. “How is she?” he whispered, needing to know despite everything.

Nikolai pressed his lips together. “You should have told her before you did. She’s trying to pretend she doesn’t miss you.”

His heart jumped in his chest. “Is it working?”

A smile tugged at Nikolai’s lips. He released Kira with the softest kiss to her scalp, the only admission he felt anything for Kallias’s Captain. Kira didn’t react at all, though her brown eyes were glassy. Nikolai crossed the marble, clapping Kallias on the shoulder.

“It’s not.” His smile faded and Kallias knew what was coming. Felt utter dread knowing Nikolai would take back his answer to Viviane. Would she still miss him then? “The children–”

“Gone,” Kallias said, turning back for his throne. “Their minds were shattered, they—” They suffered.

Oppressive silence rang around them. “A…another High Lord slaughtered children?” Nikolai asked, as if he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Yes,” Kira answered, the word dripping with condemnation. “He’s a traitor. He could have allied with us, could have spared us and instead he stands beside her and delights in the cruelty he inflicts in her name. Not even Hellas herself would have him and I hope he rots.”

“How…” Nikolai shook his head, pressing his hand to his mouth. “Even Beron Vanserra wouldn’t…”

“We’re being sent to her court,” Kira told Nikolai, reaching for his arm. “You and Viviane will be all that’s left of us.”

“There’s no more fight,” Kallias added, squashing the hatred he felt. Not at Amarantha—he couldn’t sustain his anger for her any longer. He’d merely turned inwards, had directed it fully to himself. Trying again was unthinkable. What else could he risk losing?

“For you, maybe,” Nikolai disagreed. “Not for us.”

Kallias didn’t respond, didn’t dare ask what he and Viviane were up to. “The only thing that matters to me is her life,” he told his friend, holding Nikolai’s gaze. Nikolai understood what Kallias couldn’t say well enough—she was to be protected at all costs.

“Don’t.”

Nikolai’s jaw set in a hard line. “You made her High Lord in your stead. I obey her.”

Kallias shivered without meaning to. The thought of a whole city bowing to Viviane’s rule made his body tight and hot all at once. For a moment, Kallias indulged himself in a daydream—one where Viviane amassed an army strong enough to challenge Amarantha. Where she liberated him. Came for him.

Wanted him.

And Kallias swallowed it, because he knew how it ended. It wasn’t just Amarantha, but Rhysand and whatever armies he was hiding, too. Rhysand, who had more power left at his disposal than any of them. Amarantha, who could draw on the full might of Hybern to crush them.

He’d watch her torture Viviane.

Kill her.

“Don’t,” he whispered, unable to force anyone to do his bidding anymore. He had no authority other than the useless crown atop his head. Nikolai shook his head back and forth.

“You would do it for us.”“Look what it cost me,” Kallias replied, his anguish coloring his words. “What are you willing to lose?”

The unspoken hung between the three of them.

“I can’t—I won’t—risk her.”

Nikolai inclined his head. He took a step back, his regret plain. “I will see you again.”

Even Kira winced at his words. To have their hope, their belief they could do something to save their home. Each other. Kira and Kallias no longer believed there was anything left to do. Any hope left to them was centered on Tamlin and the loophole Amarantha had offered. Kallias would do nothing else to draw Amarantha’s attention to Winter or what he’d hidden high in the mountains.

Nikolai turned, leaving Kallias and Kira alone in that emptied throne room,

Surrounded by nothing but their grief.

VIVIANE:

[an endless eternity]

Viviane stepped from the palace just as she always did. Dressed in well-fitted, fur trimmed white pants and a blue coat dress, she’d come to appreciate an unfussy wardrobe. It was practically a uniform, both practical and a sign of the unchanging times. Dyes were hard to create and blue was one of the few still available with what they could get from the landscape around them.

The color was lovely, warm and somehow icy all at the same time. They were still in the brutal season still, though spring wasn’t far off. Viviane was looking forward to seeing the ice melt and children back in the street.

Beside her, Nikolai crunched into the snow. Hands crossed over the white military jacket on his chest, she knew he intended to go to the barracks first thing. He’d run drills until the sun set, leaving him exhausted and wrung out enough to sleep.

She knew that feeling all too well. Most nights they ended up in the same bed, backs facing the other, pretending they weren’t wallowing in their combined misery. That after nearly half a century, they were used to this. Used to life as it was. No High Lord—Kallias had been banished beneath the mountain decades ago. No one had heard from him and rumors swirled that he was dead.

Viviane couldn’t prove they weren’t true. A new High Lord might not even realize Kallias had bound the remaining magic to her. A new High Lord might have decided not to say anything and take his chances. She’d never know.

Viviane had nothing but her regrets and that fucking ring she half hated, half worshipped. She’d never been able to put it on.

He could do it himself. Could tell her properly.

In her imagination, she pictured telling him she loved him, too. She imagined what it would be like to press her mouth against his own, to feel him hold her as he whispered everything in that letter against her cheek.

And sometimes she imagined hitting him across the face so hard it left a mark. She imagined what it would be like to see him sink to his knees while she told him she hated him and would never forgive him for what he’d done. For sacrificing himself.

For leaving her.

Fifty years, and Viviane had no more clarity than she had when she’d gotten that letter. She’d always loved him.

She didn’t know if she was in love with him. Viviane could barely take care of the remainder of Winter's people, let alone herself and her own feelings. At night she tortured herself with it, tossing and turning until she went looking for Nikolai—assuming he hadn’t found her first.

Viviane was their General. Their Lady.

Hilarious.

“The air smells different today,” Nikolai noted. Viviane inhaled sharply, letting the icy air flood her lungs. Ice and pine invaded her senses–just like always.

“If you say so,” she replied with a shrug. Still, her stomach tumbled at the thought that maybe the world had shifted. Good or bad, at least it was something. She didn’t dare hope, not after so much time, but she did let herself imagine his face when she’d last seen him.

Happy.

Alive.

Brutally handsome in a way that made her ache.

Gods, she wanted to see him smile at her. Wanted to see his pale blue eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement. She wanted him sprawled over a chair, his lips tugged upwards as he tried—and failed—to pretend he wasn’t interested in every word coming out of her mouth.

While Nikolai went to run himself ragged, Viviane threw herself into the mindless activities that came with running a city. Mostly, Viviane worked on settling petty disputes and maintaining their existing infrastructure. She collected no taxes in an attempt to alleviate everyone's burden given they were all struggling together. It didn’t stop people from the endless bickering over property and goods and sometimes just each other.

And sometimes when things erupted unforgivably, the very structures Viviane was trying to preserve were damaged. She wouldn’t pretend that there was no tension. People were restless and exhausted and angry. They vented their rage on everyone around them—the lesser fae, people who disagreed with them, and most often, her.

A decade earlier, a group had decided to leave and Viviane had slaughtered them all without mercy or regret. It wouldn’t be all for nothing. She vowed that if nothing else. Alive or dead, Kallias’s sacrifice would not be wasted on the restless and the weak.

She wondered if people would forgive her when it was all over. A good third of the city still resented her for that choice. She’d warned them, and everyone else, what would happen if they tried to cross the border. Maybe it would have been better to leave the slaughter to the sentries.

It was an impossible situation.

Not just the decisions she had to make, but all of it. Every choice felt weighty, like something terrible would happen no matter what she chose. Fixing a roof or barring people from leaving provoked the same panicked reaction. If she lived a thousand years, Viviane didn’t think it would ever truly leave her.

She met Nikolai in the city square. They dined there every night now, just like everyone else. He had two bowls in his hand and when he saw her, he offered up the stew. His face was battered and bloodied and she wondered if he let the recruits vent their rage on him because he couldn’t do it himself.

“Anything interesting happen?” he asked with a wet cough. Viviane could smell the blood in the air.

She buried her face in the stew, inhaling the meat.

“The mountain pass is snowed in again,” she told him, sighing heavily. “And there’s a crack in the schoolhouse.”

“Could be worse,” Nikolai told her, just like he always did. Viviane titled her head upwards towards the dark sky overhead. Twinkling stars peered back against, bright in the violet night. Her breath clung just ahead of her face, creating delicate clouds all around her. She’d once found such a thing fascinating.

Now she found it tiring. Viviane plowed forward until they reached the arching doors of the mountainside palace. Her chest ached more than usual that night, and when her feet clipped on the floor, she turned to face Nikolai so quickly her stew sloshed over her dress.

“I miss him.”

Nikolai nodded his head with glazed over eyes, his jaw tight with emotion.

“I’m afraid he’s dead.”

Viviane hadn’t dared to ever actually say it. “I’m afraid he’s dead and I didn’t…”

Gods, but she couldn’t even admit it to herself. It was too painful to acknowledge the truth. Furious, angry, burning with hatred—and she still loved him, too. Loved him so much. And if he was dead, it didn’t matter. She felt doomed to miss him until she faded into ice.

“I know,” was all he said. She knew he did. He’d lost people to that cursed mountain. Had people he was afraid were dead. That he loved. In the scheme of things, Viviane had so much. Her sister was an adult, her mother was alive, and she was bound to Winter as its Lady and Steward as long as there was a High Lord to sit on the throne.

“Come eat.”

One day, Nikolai would stop speaking entirely. Viviane wasn’t sure what would happen to her then. They ate in almost near silence and when it came time to part ways, she looped her arm through his.

“Why pretend tonight?”

“Your room,” Nikolai agreed, his voice gentle. “Your room is nicer.”

He vanished just long enough to change, giving Viviane a moment to pull out that letter and reread it.

I love you. Did I tell you that? Well, just in case.

I love you.

She could hear the words with that rich, deep voice. How his lips would be tugged into a playful smile but his eyes would be tight with worry. Kallias never did like not knowing how things might turn out.

Pulling out that amethyst ring, Viviane slid it on her finger despite swearing she never would. Nikolai stepped in, dressed in his night clothes, and offered an appreciative chuckle. “Feeling optimistic?”

“Maybe it's good luck,” she replied, immediately embarrassed she’d been caught.

“It looks good on you,” Nikolai offered, taking her hand to admire and silver on her hand. “You should keep it.”

She twisted the band, intending to take it off. “I think—”

Her knees slammed to the floor before she could finish her sentence. Palm stinging against the hard floor, Viviane took a gasping breath. Something in her chest ripped, unwinding decades of magic. Viviane was going to be sick. Distantly, she could hear Nikolai calling her name, his hands gripping her shoulders.

How foolish, to think Kallias had ever died without her noticing. She pushed Nikolai off her, stumbling for the window. The shimmering wards that had long shielded the city were gone.

“Vivi–”

“He’s dead,” she whispered. “Kallias is dead.”

KALLIAS:

[an eternity and a day]

I’ve come to claim the one I love.

Three months. That was how long the filthy, underfed human named Feyre had managed to last. Kallias was still as breathless at the sight of her as he had been the first day she’d said those words.

I’ve come to claim the one I love.

He’d stopped dreaming about the sky. Of fresh fallen snow blanketing bright green pine. Of the smell of the cold, the sound of cracking ice.

Of blue eyes set beneath a cascade of silver hair. Kallias had stopped thinking about Viviane long before Feyre ever arrived, though she had a starring role in all his dreams. He indulged because he had no other reprieve from the endless horror of forty years beneath a mountain.

All Feyre had to do was kill three of them. The crowd shifted anxiously, awash with a mixture of anticipation and hope. She was too pale, blue eyes wide with horror. No one held it against her. No one from his court, a small mercy given how few were even left to pick through. He saw another Summer court denizen, stolen with eyes squeezed shut tight. Across the room, Tarquin’s lips moved silently in prayer.

The next was from Day. Helion set his jaw grimly, looking at the female with unguarded pride. Her life for everyone. For her home, her High Lord. She murmured encouragement to the trembling human. If anyone breathed, Kallias couldn’t tell. His own heart was still in his chest, his hand numb from how tight Kira squeezed it.

Feyre hesitated.

Please, he prayed. His first since Amarantha had stolen everything from him. Please do this.

A second ash dagger stole a second life. All was left was one, was—

Kira dropped Kallias’s hand at the reveal. Of Tamlin, still in the horrible golden mask, staring back with such open defiance. Kallia turned his head, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been too hopeful. Had forgotten the little tricks of their kind. With knee wobbling fear, he forced himself to suffer through Amarantha’s taunting, of the shaking hands of the human who loved one of them. Love them enough to risk the almost certain death Kallias was certain Amarantha would foist upon her.

Feyre might survive this, but she’d never survive the humiliation of besting Amarantha. He didn’t care if it meant he could leave. It wasn’t the love of his life up there, after all. She was safe. Protected and secure.

Happy, he hoped.

Feyre raised the dagger, blinking away rushing tears. Kallias knew what Tamlin did—what every High Lord in the room knew. Their hearts were stone, held by Amarantha and her unusual magic. Tamlin would survive, but the attempt would satisfy the deal.

Please let her succeed, he prayed, unable to take his eyes off her.

The ash tip pierced Tamlin’s chest. Blood sprayed against Feyre’s too place face, throwing the scent of metal in the air. Across the room, the Vanserra siblings all shifted anxiously, eyes darting toward the door. She’d done it. Spring was free. Kallias didn’t know what he expected at that moment. Tamlin, perhaps, to shed the immortal skin for the famed claws and fur. Kallias wanted to see blood dripping from the High Lord's fangs. Wanted to see Amarantha ripped to pieces and eaten, so there was nothing left of her.

Not even her awful, ugly hair.

“Oh, Mother save us,” Kira whispered when Amarantha barked out one of her awful laughs. He turned to Helion, to Tarquin when the human began screaming. What did it matter, his eyes silently pleaded. She’d free them on her deathbed ten thousand years from then.

What did it matter?

“Kal–”

Rhysand rushed forward, a knife in hand. Kallias couldn’t make sense of any of it. Bracketed between Helion and Tarquin, open mouthed like the other two, he merely stared in open mouthed horror.

Rhysand bleeding against the wall.

Tamlin pleading on the floor.

“Love,” Feyre choked out wetly. The room went utterly still again. Horror and revulsion sharpened into unmistakable blood lust. “The answer is love.”

Her spine snapped loudly, but the words had been said. Beron Vanserra barred his teeth in a cruel, hungry grin. Thesan angled his body closer to that dais, eyes narrowed with unmistakable want. Kallias, too, wanted to paint himself in Amarantha’s blood. Anticipation flooded the room as Tamlin stood. His mask clattered to the floor along with the rest of his court, though it didn’t seemed to have registered for the High Lord.

Sharpened fangs erupted from Tamlin's gums, his fingers elongating into razor-sharp talons. The evisceration that followed was art, was every fantasy Kallias had harbored come to life. He delighted in Amaranthas terror, that her final moments were consumed knowing she lost to a human. That everyone she’d harmed clamored for more, would have stood there for a month to watch it drawn out.

Though, it was smart to finish her quickly. Her last breath wooshed into the room, slamming into Kallias so hard that he, along with Helion, both nearly tumbled to the floor. Helion and Tarquin had never felt the full breadth of magic but for Kallias, it was like waking up again. He felt the soft snapping of that little pulse he’d sent to Viviane, cracking like fragile ice beneath the weight of his might. She’d feel it too.

He’d need to go to her before she panicked.

Bring her back, a voice whispered in his mind. For her sacrifice, give her immortality.

Whether it was his own thought or not, Kallias was too numb, too shocked and keyed up to do anything but step forward. Tarquin and Helion came with him, joining the remaining four. Kallias added his own wisp of magic to the bleeding, broken body cradled against Tamlin’s chest.

He would have given far more than one immortal existence if it meant he could see Viviane again. It was all he could think about, even as he stood witness to the most remarkable thing he’d likely ever see in his life. Color flooded Feyre’s once hollow cheeks as life wormed its way back into her ravaged body. The bloodied wounds knitted themselves, her bones cracking and snapping back to where they belonged.

She took a breath, and then another. It was enough to send Kallias scattering. He wasn’t the only one. The Vanserras were practically running from beneath the mountain, while both Helion and

Tarquin were gesturing for their new court, scrambling with their new power. Kallias needed to do the same.

But they wouldn’t remain. He was following just behind the Vanserra’s just as soon as he got the words from his mouth.

“We meet in Wegen,” he said, looking over the brutalized remains of his court. Amarantha had destroyed the capitol, and after forty years lying in ruins, Kallias wasn’t inclined to rebuild. Viviane was there.

And Viviane was home.

“Collect whatever it is you need from this place. Leave everything else.”

A sea of faces stared back with disbelief, a feeling well echoed in Kallias’s chest. Decades of despair had taken their toll. The thought of going outside filled him with anxiety.

“I’ll meet you there,” he told them. Kallias didn’t want anything. Not his clothes, his crowns, his jewels. Just her. Gods, Kallias wanted to see her so badly that he, too, almost ran out of the room. He wasn’t the only one. Kira, as she had been since everything went to shit, grabbed his elbow. She squeezed when they climbed the steps to the tunnel leading out—leading to Autumn.

There wasn’t one directly into Winter, an impractical undertaking given all doors tended to freeze.

“Can you winnow?” Kira whispered, glancing over her shoulder. Kallias was tempted to look back, too. He kept waiting for Amarantha to pop back up, to drag them all back by their throats. His whole body trembled when he stepped into Spring, his lungs filling with the first free breath he’d taken in five decades.

“Yes,” he replied, swallowing the knot in his throat.

“What are you going to do first?” she asked, lacing her fingers with his own.

It was pure hubris that responded. “I’m getting married.”

#daddy winter #viviane x kallias #winter court #never say i dont do anything for this fandom #are they good things?#debatable #but they ARE things

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kenganparadise · 4 years ago

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could you maybe write out Lihitos,Okubos,Raians and Edwards kinks? thank u

Hehe I had fun with this one!!! I kinda wanna do other characters as well!!

🔞WARNING NSFW AHEAD🔞

Lihito-

- major praise kink. He likes being told what a good job he’s doing. Also he just likes being praised period, it help inflated his already massive ego also he’s desperate his S/Os approval.

- likes receiving AND giving body worship. He’s always down to receive. He’ll melt under his S/O’s touch as they kiss every inch of his body. Ugh he can’t get enough. He has to be in the right mood to give. If his S/O is feeling insecure he will happily worship them.

- He likes Intercrural sex. Especally if his S/O has nice plump thighs. He will slide his dick between their pressed together thighs, enjoying how soft their flesh is. He will for sure cum all over their belly.

- He enjoys a bit of Gentle femdom. (He’s got mommy issues) if his S/O took care of him he’ll be such a good boy for them (he might even call them mommy/daddy)

Okubo-

- Okubo actually has a bit of a foot fetish. Shh it’s a secret tho. He’ll never bring it up. But if his S/O does he’ll be all over them. It will start out with him painting their toe nails and giving them a foot rub- then will spiral into his dick being sandwiched between their feet.

- another who loves praise/body worship. He’ll melt if his S/O were to shower him in complements. He particularly likes it when his S/O feel up his muscles.

- Has a bit of a grappling fetish. Especally if his S/O is tinier than him (also a bit of a size kink here) he likes wrestling with them then pinning them to the ground. They’ll be helpless beneath him- he gets such a rush of power. He’ll continue to hold them to the ground as he fucks their lights out.

- Slight Agoraphilia (sex in public places) sometimes he can’t wait till they get home- but he also like the risk of it. He’ll take his S/O in a back alley or in a public restroom. He likes the idea of potentially getting caught.

Raian-

- Odviously he’s got a breeding kink, scent kink, primal kink, slight pregnancy fetish,

- Major blood kink with slight Menophilia. He just gets so turned on seeing his dick covered in blood. Very often will he come home from a night of killing, he’s absolute covered head to toe in blood. Instead of going straight to the shower he’ll go fuck his S/O. He like the sight of his mate covered in someone else’s blood.

- Oh god he’s got Acarophilia BAD. He likes looking in the mirror and seeing all the scratches down his back. For this reason he likes an S/O with long nails- he’ll never admit it but he thinks it’s sexy when they paint it a sexy red color.

- Dacryphilia- he doesn’t want just painful tears and he definitely dosen’t want his Mate to cry because he hurt them in some way. he likes fucking his S/O so hard that they sob. He wants to fuck them so good and overstimulate them so much that they tear up. He thinks his S/O is so beautiful when they cry. He gets so turned on. He’ll happily lap up all their tears. He also wants to combine both pain and pleasure.

- Sthenolagnia/grappling fetish- it’s a little different from Okubo’s. He doesn’t like it when his S/O just lays down and submits. He likes it when they put up a fight and challenge him- even when they have no chance at winning. He likes it when they bite, scratch, and fight for dominance even though theres no way they’ll get it. He’ll also pin them down and fuck their lights out.

Edward -

- once again he’s got a breeding kink, Scent kink, primal kink, slight pregnancy fetish.

- Major cumflation kink- plays into his breeding kink. He will talk down to his S/O how he’s going to make them birth a massive brood. If he’s feeling very dominating Might call them his “brood bitch” or his “personal cumdump.” He wants their belly swollen and their holes absolutely gushing with his hot cum.

- Our boy Eddy has a lactation kink. If/when his S/O does provide him heirs- he would like to taste their milk. He’ll gladly gulp down whatever they provide for him. He like seeing/sucking at their swollen and seeping breasts.

- He actually likes it when his S/O tries to dominate him. If he’s in the right mood he will submit. Also he won’t submit to just anyone- they have to be his mate and he has to have respect for them.

- Slight voyeurism. He would fuck his S/O in front of a crowd- especially if it’s a crowd of his underlings/weaklings he can show his power in front of. Xia ji. He’d like it if they watched him take his S/O repeatedly. Also I especially if it was someone who has feelings for his S/O/tried flirting with his mate or someone who possibly tried to take them away from Eddy. He’ll put them in their place for sure.

#edward wu #kure raian #rihito #lihito #okubo naoya #nasty

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hopeless-ro-simptic · 4 years ago

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Sweet Poison - Yandere Alpha! Tamaki Amajiki x Omega! Reader

Shout out to @homework-is-the-real-killer for the inspiration. I don’t know if you wanted something spicey... but that’s what your getting. I have a part 2 planned out for this guy to kinda explain a little more from Tamaki’s side of things of what is actually going on. Also I have no clue if y’all will like my take on him, but I see him as being someone who yea he’s a little shy but once he gets used to you he’s at least not a complete stuttering mess.

Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, quirk play, definitely tentacle porn, unknowing drug use, dub-con if you squint?, Honestly I don’t know how to tag so If you think I need to add something please tell me.

Word Count: Just over 2k

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“What’s wrong Y/n? You are so fidgety today.”

“Oh, haha am I? Sorry I just really want class to be over so I can go see Tamaki.”

Your friends shared looks before turning back to you questions in the eyes.

“I know you guys are courting, but don’t you think you spend a lot of time with him? You don’t even sit with us at lunch anymore.”

“Oh come on guys, I literally went to the movies with you guys last night.”

“Yea but…”

They didn’t get a chance to finish their sentence, the bell chiming to let everyone know that the school day was officially over. You were flying out of your seat and down the hall before they could even call out your name. You were absolutely giddy, ready to be enveloped in the scent you had grown to love. You turned the corner, pausing for a brief second as your breath caught, watching as Tamaki and his two friends stood chatting. You couldn’t help but think about how much he looked like an angel. He was so perfect, and he was all yours.

Without a regard for the rest of the students you took off down the hall practically jumping on the alpha wrapping your arms around his neck as his instinctively wrapped around your waist pulling you against him and burying his blushing face into your neck.

“B-Bunny. You got here fast.”

“I missed you.” You took a deep inhale of his scent and could feel him doing the same. Nothing made you feel as good as being near the alpha.

You didn’t see the looks that his friends shared, Mirio clearing his throat one, twice, three times before Tamaki finally pulled away from you enough to look at the taller blonde. Shoving his hands into his pockets but still leaning on you, his face beet red once he realized the attention the two of you had garnered from the rest of the hallway.

“Ah, I’m sorry Tamaki, I didn’t mean to make a scene…”

“Trust me, it’s fine. He won’t say it but he loves it. He hasn’t stopped talking about you all day.” Nejire jumped in making both of you blush even harder, Takami burying his face in your shoulder mumbling softy to you.

“Can we go now?”

You couldn’t help but smile, reaching up and patting his hair gently, agreeing quietly with the timid alpha before the two of you said your goodbyes to his friends.

The two of you slowly made your way over to the third years dorms, fingers intertwined, completely skipping over your own room and opting to go into his instead. Shortly after the two of you had started courting, he had been so nervous to ask you to move your nest into his room, saying he just wanted to you close to him, and how could you say no to such a sweet request? Now, just two months into courting, you practically lived together, only leaving when the teacher would come by to do their final check that everyone was in their correct rooms, just to sneak back in only an hour later.

The only reason the two of you weren’t bonded yet was because UA had a strict policy against it, insisting their students wait until they were graduated so as to keep them focused on their studies. Still… everyone knew you belonged to Tamaki.

Once the two of you were finally alone in his room, you couldn’t help yourself, immediately latching onto him, nuzzling against his cheek softly and cooing into his ear. He wasn’t any better, arms wrapping around your waist and pulling the two of you into your nest that was on his bed, pressing his lips against your scent gland kissing softly as he started to thoroughly scent you, taking his time and making sure to cover everything.

“I missed you so much. I hate that you have to be around other alpha’s all day, muddles your scent.” The stutter in his voice was gone, and even though he was speaking softly, murmuring really, he was doing it right in your ear making you wiggle against him. He had grown to be so comfortable with you that once the two of you were alone, it was clear as day he was an alpha. One that your omega was dying to submit to his every, albeit quiet, whim.

You hummed in agreement, shifting so that you were comfortably laying halfway on top of him, a soft purr leaving your lips as he rubbed his cheek against you, before he started to pepper soft kisses along your jaw moving towards your lips.

The entire room was filled to the brim with his mouth-watering scent, the scent of sea salt mixed and lavender with just the slightest hint of something warmer, darker, that you couldn’t place. Whatever it was, was absolutely heaven to you, and the timid dark haired alpha was pumping it out like he wanted to coat the entire building in it.

“Tama-“ You started to whine, your omega needing more, only for his gentle and oh so soft lips to be pressed against yours, swallowing your needy sound, his inner alpha making him a little bolder after being separated from you all day. You kissed him back, feeling yourself getting worked up just by being near him, touching him, smelling him, let alone kissing him. He slid his tongue against your lips hesitantly and you immediately parted your lips allowing him entrance which he greedily took. You practically melted against him, a soft purr leaving your chest as one of his hands slipped up into your hair lightly holding your head in place. It was at that point you noticed his tongue was getting bigger, longer, slimier, and the texture changing. You knew that if you pulled away now you would see that it had changed into a tentacle and you couldn’t help but clench your thighs slightly at that thought, a groan leaving his lips at you squeezing him between your thighs.

And then all at once he tasted so mouth wateringly sweet, so delicious, so… addicting. You could feel your mind filling up with the dizzying fog that always came with kissing your alpha, a high that you could never get enough of. It was this feeling, this feeling of flying, that made you so sure that he was the alpha for you. That made you know without a doubt that you would never want another. That you would never leave him.

You felt like your body was going numb, no longer having control of it and enjoying the high that he was giving you as he regarded you carefully through silted eyes before he slowed the kiss and pulled away, your eyes latching onto the string of saliva that connected the two of you, a soft whimper leaving your lips as you shuffled closer. You wanted more, needed more. More, more, more, more, more of him. You couldn’t control the whine that left your lips, your eyes transfixed on his own, leaning down to press soft kitten licks that he blushed at, tasting the lingering sweet spit that was left behind.

“D-do you love me bunny?”

You didn’t hesitate, pressing your lips against his own in short quick pecks, desperately trying to get him to open back up, to let you have more of that high that you so badly wanted. That only he could give to you.

“Yes. More than anything.”

His hands came up shakily to your hips, digging his fingers into the plush flesh there, just the touch making you gasp softly, his eyes transfixed onto your face with awe, soaking in every reaction, even blush, every flutter of your eyes as he kneaded your skin.

“Do you promise?” You could feel his grip guiding you, nudging you to move up and up and up until you had your knees on either side of his blushing face, his fingers cupping your ass from underneath your school skirt, shaking as they brushed at your panties which were already soaked tugging them down slowly, oh so slowly. His eyes flicking from your face to what lied before him, begging for attention, slick dripping down your thighs. He could practically taste you from here.

You nodded, not even realizing the amount of whimpers that were leaving your lungs, your fingers gripping into his hair as you looked down at him, your brain filled to the brim with every thing him. His smell, his taste, his touch. Him. Him. Him. Him. Him.

“You won’t leave me?”

You shook your head, your body trembling at this point from pure excitement. Did everyone feel this way with their alpha? Would it always be this intense? How did anyone get anything done?

“I…I n-need to hear you bunny.” You could feel it as his tongue, no, his tentacle, slid up your thigh, licking up the running slick, suctioning to the highest part, just below your sopping cunt before releasing making blood rush to the spot and forcing a high pitched mewl out of your mouth. His eyes never leaving your face, seeming more and more confident with each gasp and whine leaving your lips.

“I promise. I love you Tamaki. Please.. god.. I need you. I won’t ever leave you. No matter what. I love you. Please, please, please, please. Alpha.” Your fingers gripped his hair, you could feel tears stinging into your eyes, you felt like you would actually combust into flames if you didn’t get more of him right this second. Your skin was starting to itch, feeling like something was crawling all over you and you could feel your body breaking out into a sweat.

Somewhere in the very back of your mind, something told you this wasn’t normal. Being completely and utterly addicted, to the point of almost pain-… you weren’t due to start your heat any time soon, knowing full well that most omega’s didn’t go into heat until they were at least 20. No… this was different… this was-

Your whole body shuddered, brain turning off completely when he all at once yanked on your hips, forcing you down onto his face, his tongue sliding against your core and deep into your cunt, much farther than it was supposed to be able to, to the point that you could feel it in your stomach, suction cups sliding against your sensitive swollen clit as he pumped his tongue in and out of you, making you choke on your own screams, tears spilling over onto your cheeks at the intensity of it all.

You should have been embarrassed when he inhaled deeply, a low primal growl that you never imagined him making leaving his lips as he breathed in your scent, but you couldn’t do anything, couldn’t think of anything, other than the glorious feeling of euphoria that was filling your mind, as the high that you had been chasing finally returned to you again. The world was filled with bright colors, your mind filling with a fog that just felt so good that you never wanted it to leave. Everything was perfect. He was perfect. Your alpha. Nothing could ever change that fact. Nothing could ever make you want to leave.

When you finally came back down from your high, you had realized you must have passed out from the bliss. Tamaki had you laying on your back, a warm washcloth pressed to your forehead, his arms wrapped around you tightly as he layed against your side, his face pressed against your neck, nuzzling you softly and cooing into your ear of how much he loved you, asking if you were okay, how he would take care of you, how you never needed to worry about anything, how he loved his omega.

You couldn’t help but smile trusting all of his words and snuggled further into his grasp, a soft contented sound leaving your lips, enjoying the sounds of his pretty words being murmured to you. The soft, gentle, loving kisses that were carefully placed along your neck and face. The feeling of his arms turned tentacles tightened their grasp around your form, holding you in place against him leaving no wiggle room.

You felt completely and utterly safe in his grasp, knowing he would never let you go.

You were his sun, his moon, his everything. You were his.

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#tamaki amajiki #mha tamaki #tamaki #amajiki #bnha tamaki #bnha amajiki #mha amajiki #bnha #mha #omegaverse #alpha tamaki amajiki #omega reader #bnha omegaverse #mha omegaverse

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anerol152 · 2 years ago

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Hello! This is anon #2, back with another essay, LOL. I figured I’d try to submit a post instead because tumblr asks have a character limit and it’s such a pain trying to avoid blowing up your notifications. xD

only got a few friends to talk about it that I won’t spoil or bore after half an hour and is nice to have a way to discuss it.

Same here! I don’t know anyone else who’s just as invested so I’ve been doing my best to pretend like I’m having a normal amount of thoughts about this which, HA. HAHAHA. I really wish there was a Discord server, but I get the feeling it’d just get lumped in with all the other RE things and my brain is just like NO, ETHAN AND ROSE. xD

Also you two are really good at making Rose’s childhood even more tragic and I both thank you for that and am in a ;_; mood of my own

Misery loves company. I need someone to suffer with me because I’ve just been completely plagued with thoughts of what kind of life Rose has had and how heartbroken Ethan would be to learn about it.

Though, if I have any gripe with SoR it’s that I wish they spent a little more time with ‘Michael’ and Rose before the big reveal. Just have some scenes where they’re just trading stories about who they are! Give Rose a chance to piece together who Michael really is and Ethan to learn who his daughter is now. (On the other hand, I do love how Rose has known Ethan for all of a few hours and she’s still ready to to completely put down a smackdown when something happens to him. Ethan being like that for Rose is a given, but it was amazing to see Rose turn around and do the same. She threw away a normal life to protect him and didn’t even regret it! MY HEART.)

[…] Which is why I’m afraid she kept her mindset of 'scientist first, mother/wife second’ after Rose was born. Plus the trauma. Even if she was stone cold cruel like some fans believe (think they might be mixing her up with Miranda tho -_-“) she would have had some trauma from it still.

Yeah, sadly, I’m feeling this as well. RE8 never made her seem like a bad parent, but they definitely planted the seed for being a secretive, distant one. Especially considering Mia is still keeping secrets and who knows if she ever told Ethan about her involvement with The Connection.

SoR just kept hitting me over the head with that too. It’s possible it’s just because SoR was about Ethan-Rose, but I kept noticing that Mia was completely absent from all of the memories he shows Rose. It makes me think that Ethan was the one usually the one doing the childcare and the memories were of Ethan maybe telling Mia about their day.

On top of that, the Mia mannequin was in an area where Eveline was preying on Rose’s fears so wtf happened to cause Rose to have anxiety about her mother catching her? W H A T.

Also Rose was… way too trusting of what 'K’ wanted her to do. Going about it in secret like that? Was just odd from the start.

Oh yeah, I think it was a combo of Miranda preying on Rose’s desperation and also using someone Rose would trust completely to lure her in. I also side eye Chris here because it wasn’t him either so jfc, everyone Rose was left with failed her.

Yes Ethan justice!

He really is just a guy. A random dude. A dad. But he is a good dad. Man him cradling baby Rose at the end of RE8 plus saving her in the DLC made me cry so much (first part more but man would it have been very emotionally effective if both came out at the same time)

Oh my fucking god, yes. I was exposed to things a bit backwards because I saw SoR before I watched the ending of RE8. Even knowing what would happen, it completely broke me. Ethan’s voice throughout the entire thing as he struggled to keep going just a little longer and the "Goodbye, Rosemary” just akgjhajf. ;__;

They did such a fantastic job with him - Ethan is my absolute favorite now Rose in second and it absolutely cracks me up that all it took to wreck everyone’s shit was one very upset father-daughter duo (and how it kept going even beyond the grave.) Miranda really messed with the wrong people. I seriously wish RE7 could have given him the same depth and didn’t just have him as a placeholder for the player.

Knowing what I know about his personality now, I can fill in the gaps on how he would have reacted to things like, idk, killing his wife repeatedly, but his character really could have used some love back then. :( I don’t think people would have thought he was boring if he had been given the same treatment.

But yeah, the DLC really does hit you in the feels with the what ifs of Ethan taking care of Rose. Saw a… comic? Animatic? Not sure which; of Ethan taking care of Rose through her life, being there for her. Man. Really gets you feeling ;_;

;_; It does. Both of them deserve to have a family with unconditional love and support. Though, I absolutely adore how self-confident Rose is by the end of the DLC knowing that her dad is proud of her no matter what.

There’s a little easter egg at the very end of RE8/SoR with Ethan’s character model and I’m really hoping it’s a hint he’ll be back (maybe as just a side character to cheer on his daughter or give her ammunition). Like, ffs, Capcom. They’ve both been through enough, let Ethan stay with his daughter! Though… if this happens, it will still make me sad knowing he missed 16 years of her life. You know that’s going to hurt for him.

#RE 8 #re 8 village #ethan winters #rosemary winters #tumblr submission #never posted one of those before #will reply after #I guess??#Loved this tho

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 4 years ago

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Words: 3,324 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 6 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: Daryl worries about Y/N after the traumatic incident outside the wall.

Your name: submit What is this?

Daryl didn’t see you that whole day after he had talked with Rick, or the next morning so he decided to pay you a visit and make sure you were okay. He wiped his hands on the rag he always kept in his back pocket and put away the tools he had been using to work on his bike. Just as he was getting ready to leave, Aaron stepped out into the garage and Daryl greeted him with a nod.

“Done for the day?”

Daryl shrugged. “For now at least.” He thoughtfully chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “Hey, uhh, ya seen Y/N since that night we got back?”

Aaron’s face fell a bit but he nodded. “I stopped by her place yesterday.”

Daryl leaned back against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. “How’d she seem?”

Aaron shrugged and sighed heavily. “She seemed… okay. I don’t think she’s been sleeping,” he said a little hesitantly. He shook his head, frowning. “The bruising on her neck… it’s bad. Thank God you were there.”

Daryl’s stomach flipped at the thought. “Ya… Well, the whole thing was bad. Those people? Seemed like—” he hesitated to say what was on his mind, to confide in Aaron, but he also felt like it was eating him alive. Maybe if he spoke it, he would feel less consumed by it. “It seemed like they knew her.”

Aaron’s brow drew down low over his eyes. “Hmm. What do you mean?”

“I heard ‘em say she was comin’ ‘back where she belongs.’ And more than that—if they had wanted to kill her, she’d be dead. They both had guns and knives on ‘em. But they didn’t. They were tryin’ ta take her.”

The shadow on Aaron’s face deepened and he rubbed a hand thoughtfully over his chin and mouth. “Well, I don’t think I need to tell you that the intentions of some men out there in this world are even more emboldened now,” he said with disgust.

“Yeah… But ain’t the first time neither. That night I stitched up that gash in her arm she said the same thing. She said ‘if they had wanted to kill me, I’d be dead.’”

Aaron gulped and shook his head. “I don’t know what—I just—I don’t know,” he said vaguely. “She hasn’t told me much about before.”

Daryl turned back to the table and fiddled with some of the parts. “Seems like she’s got a target painted on her. Maybe she shouldn’t be out,” he thought aloud.

Aaron shook his head. “Yeah, well that will never happen. Trying to keep her inside Alexandria is like trying to hold water in your hands. We’d probably have to lock her up.” He sighed heavily again and rested his hands on his hips. “Whatever is out there, whatever her past is… she knows the risks of going out. There isn’t going to be any convincing her to stay inside.”

Daryl nodded and chewed the side of his thumbnail. “Ya…”

Aaron let out a wry laugh. “I mean, can you imagine if someone told you that you needed to stay inside?”

One corner of Daryl’s mouth twitched upwards. “Ya. I know. Ain’t happenin’.” Daryl sighed. “Well, I guess the only thing for it is to try to convince her not to go alone.”

Aaron smiled at the archer. “Sounds reasonable. Know anyone for the job?” he joked. Daryl shot him a look and Aaron laughed and held his hands up. “See you later, Daryl.”

Daryl hummed an acknowledgement, set down the part he’d been anxiously fiddling with, and headed out of the garage in the direction of your house.

He felt a bit nervous as he climbed the stairs on your front porch, noticing how clammy his palms suddenly felt, and when first he knocked there was a long silence. He wondered if you were going to answer the door at all and a distinct worry seized him—that you really weren’t okay. But, finally, he could hear some soft footsteps approaching the other side of the door and then it opened a crack.

You peeked out hesitantly but as soon as you saw it was Daryl you opened the door wide. “Daryl. Hi.”

He cleared his throat a little awkwardly. “Hey.”

Aaron was right. You looked exhausted. There were dark circles under your eyes and your shoulders were somewhat slumped.

You continued to peer at him, waiting for some explanation for why he was standing there at your door.

“I, uhh—I hadn’t seen ya since we got back. Just wanted to see if ya needed anything. Ya know, and see how you’re healin’ up.”

“Oh. That’s—you want to come in?” you offered stepping back to make way for his broad-shouldered frame.

“Thanks,” Daryl murmured as he crossed the threshold. You shut the door behind him and he followed you up the hall and into the kitchen. He could see a pillow and blanket laid out on the couch in the living room. It looked like you’d been camping out there. He gave you a questioning glance. “So, how ya feelin’?” Daryl’s eyes found the dark bruising around your neck.

“I’m fine. Thanks,” you said a little quietly.

He considered you thoughtfully for a moment, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Ya sure?”

You sighed heavily and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Yeah. I just—haven’t slept really,” you admitted.

Daryl nodded, looking again at the makeshift bed in your living room. “Ya camping out down here?”

You followed him as he trailed over to peer at the blankets spilling off the couch and onto the floor. “Uhh… sort of. I thought maybe a change of scenery would help.” And you had the thought that if you were on the ground floor, you’d hear someone trying to break into your house…

“Did it?” he asked, his blue eyes finding yours.

“Not really.”

The archer’s brow drew down, veiling his eyes in shadow, and he let out a hum of acknowledgement. “Ya know if having other people around would help, ya could—” he cleared his throat again, his heart racing, “ya could come stay over at our place. We’ve got a full house. Ya know, if—if it’d feel safer. Ya could take my bed. It’s in the basement away from everybody.” He watched your eyelashes flutter as you looked up at him in surprise.

“Oh. I can’t—that—that’s okay,” you said, averting your eyes back down toward your feet.

Daryl’s heart was pounding as he offered up his second idea, nervously rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Well, I—I could stay over here. Just to, ya know, keep an eye on things. If it’d help.” Your eyes lifted back up to his face again and there was that vulnerability in your eyes again that always surprised him. He watched as your lips parted slightly as you prepared to speak.

“I can’t—I can’t ask you to do that,” you said softly, quickly averting your eyes from the sudden softness in his and fiddling with the hem of your sleeve.

“Ya ain’t askin’. I offered,” he said. “If ya think it’d help ya get some sleep. You’re healin’ up. Ya need it.”

You glanced up at him again, now your expression was somewhat guarded as you took him in. You gulped at the nervous lump in your throat. “They aren’t gonna miss you over there?” you asked hesitantly.

“Nah,” he said.

You watched him for a long moment, considering his offer, but at length you nodded, remembering how well you had slept with him nearby even outside of Alexandria’s walls. Since you’d gotten back the nightmares had returned and gotten worse, likely a result of your latest encounter. “Okay. If—if you don’t mind.”

Daryl’s heart fluttered at the grateful look you gave him, your eyes fixed on him and only him. He nodded. “I dun mind.” He nudged his nose up at you twice in a nod. “I’ll come by later.” You watched as he stalked into the kitchen and went over to the refrigerator.

“What are you doing?” You watched him pull it open and look inside before glancing back over his shoulder at you.

He closed the door pointedly. “Just what I thought. Ain’t got no damn food in here either. Ya been eatin’?”

You gulped and shrugged vaguely.

“Ya, uh huh. I’ll bring somethin’ later. Ya need to eat,” he rumbled. He started to stride quickly to the front door and you trailed a little behind him. He stopped on the threshold and looked back at you. There was that softness in his eyes again that always made your heart jump. “I’ll be back later, alright?”

You avoided his eyes, feeling suddenly silly and ashamed of what you were asking him to do, that you needed someone else when you tried so hard not to need anyone or anything. His deep voice, rough with gravel called your eyes back to his.

“Hey. It ain’t no big deal. Alright?” he said, trying to reassure you, reading the shame on your face as clearly as if the word had been tattooed on your forehead.

You nodded a little, giving in to his reassurance. “Okay.”

“’Kay,” he agreed. You watched him cross the porch and go down your stairs, headed back home. That’s what he had. A home. It hit you that all you really had was an empty house and your heart ached. It was the price you paid for trying to keep almost everyone at arm’s length. You sighed heavily and shut the door.

Several hours later, there was another knock on the front door. You got up from your spot on the couch, still carrying your book and went to the door. Daryl was standing there with his crossbow slung over his shoulder and a small container in his hands. Night had fallen outside and the porchlights illuminated the strong angles of his jaw. You felt a flush in your cheeks and hoped he couldn’t see it.

You stepped back and gestured for him to come in.

“Brought ya some stew. Venison. We’ve still got a bunch of it,” he said, heading immediately for the kitchen and starting to open cabinets, looking for a pot to dump it in so he could heat it up. “And you’re eatin’ some of this now.” He paused and looked up at you over the counter. “When is the last time ya ate?”

“Uhh…”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes at you. “Too damn long, then.” He resumed his searching and eventually succeeded. He set it on the stove to heat up. You sank down onto one of the kitchen stools at the island, watching him as he stirred the hearty meal. Daryl turned around and took in your expression from across the kitchen, slinging his crossbow off his shoulder and letting it hang at his side.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked.

Your eyes shot up at the sound of his voice. “Oh, uhh… it’s just this classic novel. The Brothers Karamazov.”

Daryl’s eyes narrowed as he looked at you. “The what?”

You actually smiled at him, your whole face lighting up. Daryl felt his heart flutter and he was relieved to see that some of the weight that seemed to be on you was lifted, even if just for a moment. “Yeah, it’s a mouthful,” you said. “I’ve got this thing for the great Russian writers so…”

“Russian, huh? What’s so special about ‘em?”

“They just—I don’t know. They write these beautiful, insane, touching, tragic stories. I just—” you shrugged. “The writing is incredible, even in translation.” You paused thoughtfully and Daryl felt a warmth in his chest as you looked down at the novel in your hand and smoothed your hand over the cover, staring at it like it was something precious. “And I suppose now, since the world changed, the tragedy in the stories is even more relatable,” you said softly.

Daryl felt a pang in his heart at your words. Your eyes flitted back up to meet his and he felt a spark of electricity jump up his spine.

Daryl rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and hoisted his crossbow up onto the counter, using it as an excuse to break eye contact with you as he felt suddenly terrified of the magnetic pull he was feeling.

“What’d you tell everybody?” you asked quietly.

Daryl didn’t look up from the bolt he was examining closely. “Didn’t tell ‘em nothin’.”

“Won’t they worry about where you are?”

He shrugged. “Nah. S’fine.” He quickly turned back to the stew on the stove which now had curls of steam rising from the surface of it. He pulled open some more cabinets until he found a bowl and quickly poured stew from the pan into it before setting it in front of you. He opened drawers until he found a spoon, which he slid over to you with a metallic clinking against the granite of the countertop. You were giving him a queer look. “What?”

You shook your head, one corner of your mouth twitching up. “Nothing.”

“Mmm,” he hummed, his eyes narrowed. “Eat,” he drawled.

The corners of your eyes crinkled in a smile. “You’re awfully bossy today,” you joked, picking up the spoon. You stared down into the stew, not feeling the least bit hungry despite not eating anything all day.

He let out a scoff and leaned on his forearms on the counter, his curtain of brown hair falling forward around his face. “I’m bossy when someone needs bossin’,” he quipped.

You took a bite of the stew, holding the spoon a bit awkwardly with the brace on your wrist, and chewed it slowly. Daryl watched you carefully. The smile on your face had disappeared again and he couldn’t stop his eyes from drifting to the bruises on your neck. He felt a renewed flush of hot anger every time. He sighed and straightened up, picking up his crossbow and slinging it over his shoulder in a well-practiced habit.

“How’re your ribs feelin’?” he drawled.

You dipped your spoon back into the bowl of stew and shrugged. “Fine. Really, I’m fine.”

Daryl nodded, but you could tell he was a little skeptical. He moved around the counter and into the living room, sinking into a chair and kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. You dutifully sat and ate your stew until it was gone before going to join him with your book. You pushed the blankets on the couch out of the way and allowed yourself to watch the nimble workings of his strong fingers as he fiddled with his bow and the narrowing of his blue eyes in concentration. Your heart increased its pace. Finally, you broke the silence again. “Thanks for doing this,” you said. You hadn’t meant for it to come out in a whisper but it had, the tightness in your throat from shame and nerves strangling your voice a little.

The workings of Daryl’s fingers ceased for a moment and he looked like he was frozen, turned to stone. “I dun mind,” he finally said. His blue eyes lifted and met yours and briefly he thought he saw some glistening light there, but in a moment he had blinked and it was gone. You were simply pulling the blanket over your lap and running your fingers along the spine of your book. Daryl pulled out a sharpening stone and went about carefully sharpening some of his bolts. You settled back against the couch and opened your book, curled up beneath the blanket. It was strange how usual, how comfortable this felt. Each passing moment of silence, each murmur to one another, each question and response all felt so easy, and that was something Daryl kept turning over and over in his mind. He wasn’t used to that. He wasn’t used to feeling so at home around another person and it was becoming a habit with you. The thought made him bounce his knee nervously.

Daryl wasn’t sure when, but at some point as he sat across from you sharpening his bolts you had drifted off to sleep. Your book was still open but had dropped down onto your chest, your left hand resting on it. Your breathing was slow and deep and Daryl felt a wave of warmth and gladness wash over him that you were actually asleep. And he wondered at the fact that not only were your comfortable enough with him around to fall asleep, but he was what enabled you to when you otherwise couldn’t. Did you think of him as safety? God, he hoped so… He was puzzling over this, smoothing his thumb across his lower lip as he took in your soft expression and the way your hair was falling around your face.

He felt his heart speed up as his eyes traced the gentle pout of your mouth and the slope of your nose in profile. He rubbed a hand at the warm and achy feeling in his chest that was becoming common, annoyed at how his mind was running away on him...

The archer stood and silently crossed the room to you. He grasped one corner of your open book and slipped it gently from your hands, setting it on the coffee table. He pulled the blanket up over you before retreating back to his chair and his bow.

You awoke as the sun was coming up, lighting the living room slowly, drenching everything in warm light. You blinked a few times, getting your bearings, and then gingerly pulled yourself up into a sitting position. Your eyes landed on the archer, asleep in his chair with his head cocked to one side, his bow leaning up against the armrest next to him. He must have heard you stirring because he was awake the next instant, taking in a deep breath and straightening. His eyes meeting yours. “Hey.” The gravel in his voice was thick, heavy with sleep still.

“Hey,” you replied. Daryl was relieved to see how much brighter your eyes looked. The dark circles beneath them were also diminished.

“I didn’t—I slept,” you said with gentle surprise.

He nodded. “Ya. Ya were exhausted. Ya fell asleep early. Ya needed it,” he said, grabbing his crossbow and pulling it onto his lap, his heart rushing at the sight of your somewhat tousled hair and the rosy glow in your cheeks.

“Thank you,” you said softly.

He nodded and stood, throwing his bow over his shoulder again. “S’nothin’. Glad ya got some sleep.”

You pulled yourself up, subconsciously wrapping an arm around your ribs as they panged with the movement. Daryl was already heading through the kitchen and toward the front door. He stopped and his blue eyes fixed on your face. “Ya know, I get ‘em too sometimes,” he said quietly.

You heart raced. Had he guessed why you weren’t sleeping so easily? “What?”

“Nightmares,” he said. “About the people we’ve lost. About losing more.”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat and nodded. “Yeah…”

“I’ll see ya later, Y/N,” he drawled. He pointed at you sharply. “Eat some more of that damn stew.”

You smiled at him, the corners of your eyes crinkling. “You got it.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon series #sacrifice

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loving-all-for-loki · 4 years ago

Note

i really love your writing sm. could I maybe request something with Loki and reader being slow to realize that the feeling is mutual? if you dont mind <3

A/N: Thank you so much! I’m glad you enjoy my writing, that makes me very happy to hear. I tried my best with this, I wasn’t really sure how to go about it, but I think I did a fun little twist to it. The italics are flashbacks. ALSO, you don’t need to know the song “Stuck In The Middle” to read this, but it will make this fic a little bit cuter if you do, so go stream it! It’s by Tai Verdes (actually just go listen to his whole album TV). I hope you enjoy this, nonnie.

Stuck In The Middle

Loki x reader

Word count: 2255

Warnings: fluff, maybe swearing I don't remember lol

Tony decided to throw another one of his giant parties, but no one is really sure why. There’s no holiday, no accomplishment to celebrate. All you know is that the tower is filled to the brim with high named people and well rounded faces. Music is blaring as people lounge around drinking or casually dancing. The Avengers are all around, scattered among the faces.

You on the other hand are leaning against a wall drinking some pop and trying to ignore the creepy men that hit on you. Parties are fine, you don’t mind them, but you don't go around gloating about your business or accomplishments. You watch Tony walk around getting praised by millionaires and celebrities with a smirk on your face. Shaking your head, you look down and give your glass of water more attention than the people.

“You really should get out there.”

Steve stands next to you with his little suit on that makes you laugh. You’re not used to seeing him all dressed up.

“I’m not a boaster. I’ll dance here and there, but conversation isn’t my forte.”

“You're having a conversation with me, so what does that say?” He laughs.

“I don’t need your technicalities, Cap,” you laugh as well.

“You don’t even have to talk to people you don’t know. We’re all here.”

“Fair enough.”

“Do you want me to stay here with you?”

“No, Steve. Go have fun.”

He smiles at you before returning to his seat at the bar by Bucky and Sam. You smile at the three of them. You do truly love your friends, even if they bother you during alone time.

“Why would you enjoy them if they bother you?”

“Loki, stop reading my mind.”

“I can’t. You’re quite loud,” he jokes.

You roll your eyes as you take another sip of your water.

“Do you not like these grand parties?” He asks.

“Eh, I don’t mind them. Just not a bragger.”

“Ah, yes. One night dedicated to gloating about your own accomplishments while putting down others.”

“No, that’s the Oscars,” you joke.

“Who is Oscar?”

“Never mind. Why you go out and dance? I bet you have some moves.”

“Not without a partner. I’m more of a partner dancer.”

“Well, there’s plenty of pretty girls around you to ask to dance.”

“Why dance with a pretty girl when I have the most beautiful one right here leaning against a wall and ignoring everyone? That’s more my style.”

“Loki, I’m flatter,” you laugh, “is this your way of asking me to dance?”

“Possibly. Thor has been bugging me to ‘get out there’ and I don’t like anyone here beside you.”

“Such a gentleman.”

Loki rolls his eyes as he takes your hand in his and leads you to the dance floor. The song changes into a fun chill song you recognize as “Stuck In The Middle”. You and Loki dance together as the two of you laugh. At some point, he pulls you into him, holding him at your chest.

“Remember when we first met?” He asks.

“Yeah, I do. You were arguing with Tony and Thor.”

“I want to return to Asgard and I will no matter what you say.”

“You’re a war criminal serving time here for your attacks. If you even attempted to go back, the American army would shoot you down.”

“And good luck to them.”

“My brother is a god, Man of Iron, do not forget.”

“Shut it, point break. You can try to leave if you want to die.”

Loki scoffs at Tony’s threat. As he goes to open his mouth, he sees a girl wander into the living area and scour the kitchen. The three watch her in silent and she opens every cabinet. Loki is curious by the girl with her long black hair and sweats on, clearing not caring about the argument happening. She finally turns around with her mouth filled with pretzels from shoving them in. She looks at the two gods and Tony with a wide eyed look, clearly asking “what” in her face and shrugging.

“Am I interrupting something?” She asks after swallowing.

Tony laughs and shakes his head, walking over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder.

“You’re fine, sweetheart. We’re just having a disagreement. Go enjoy your pretzels,” Tony chuckles.

Loki watches the way she submits to Tony and follows his lead, wondering who she is and why she listens to Tony without hesitation.

“I was so intrigued by you, this small little thing who looked so full of life. What happened to her?”

You laugh hard, “You got to know me, that’s what.”

Loki hadn’t seen the innocent girl in two weeks, wondering if she was even real. There had been some kind of glow to her so had he known better, he’d say she’s an angel.

Loki decided to coop himself up in the library while he was stuck on Midgard. Since he was stuck here, he thought he’d at least spend time doing something enjoyable. He’d spend hours in there until he had read every book and started to reread them. Then, as if the universe had heard him, the innocent girl had returned, putting a book away and getting a new one. She immediately walked out of the room and down to the tower’s elevator. Without hesitation, Loki got up and followed her at a quick pace, wanting to get in the elevator at the same time. As he walked in, they stood in silence next to each other and Loki realized he had no plan.

“I’m Loki. I don’t think we properly met.”

“Y/N.”

Loki feels his heart pound as she speaks to him with her heavenly tone. She sounds exactly like he thought she’d sound. It fits her so perfectly and he wants nothing more than to listen to her talk all day.

“I apologize for anything you heard the other day. Stark and I don’t see eye to eye.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she laughs, “He can strike a nerve sometimes.”

“That is an understatement,” Loki says, losing himself in his anger towards the billionaire.

You laugh at his comment which eases his anger. Loki is filled with joy knowing you find humor in his words, learning you’re not as stuck up as the other Midgardians.

“You read?”

“Yes, I love to.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

“Sense and Sensibility.”

“I don’t think I know that one.”

“It’s a Midgardian classic,” you say with some snark.

“I’ll have to read it. May I ask what you are doing for the rest of the day?”

The elevator opens and the two of you walk off, Loki still following you with awe.

“I’m going to spar with Steve for a little bit. You can join if you want.”

“I will not participate, but will not refuse to be of company.”

You smile at him as you walk towards the training room. Steve stands there getting ready and is surprised to see the stoic god behind you.

“Is he joining?”

“Just to watch.”

Loki sits down on the bench and leaves you to get changed and stretch. He can’t comprehend how something as sweet as you can be so willing to fight one of the super soldiers. He can’t even lie that he’s scared for you, but he’s soon proven wrong in seconds as you knock Steve down to the ground in a sweet kick. You and the super soldier go at it and you prove to be a worthy match for Steve. Loki is shocked by your swiftness and strength, clearly underestimating you.

“Well, I’m impressed.”

“I didn’t expect you to be as tough as you are.” “Wow, you underestimated me. I’m hurt, Loki,” you tease.

“I’ve learned to expect the unexpected with you.”

“How so?”

“I think we all remember your silly holiday ‘April fools’.”

April fools is one of your favorite holidays and now that the trickster god is living with you, all of the avengers are on high alert all day. No one realized he didn’t know about the special day, so Loki wondered why everyone seemed to ignore him more than usual. He walked into the living space to see you sitting on the couch with another book.

“Did I do something?” He asks.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m aware I’m not well liked, but it seems that I haven’t seen anyone all day except for you right now.”

“It’s because its’ April fools and they’re scared of you.”

A little ping of pride hits Loki.

“They’re scared of me? And what is April fools?”

“It’s a dumb holiday here where you prank people and they’re worried you’re going to pull something. After all, you are you.”

“You have a whole day dedicated to messing with people?”

“Yeah, usually it’s something simple like telling people you’re pregnant when you’re not or tying the spray nozzle on the sink together so everyone gets wet when they use it. Other people go big which is what they expected from you.”

“That doesn’t shock me,” he laughs.

“Yeah, I wanted to prank them, but I think they’ve left the building entirely.”

“You say we have the tower to the two of us?” Loki can think of a couple ways he’d spend alone time with you, but the idea of messing with the Avengers with your help is too tempting. He’ll have to put his other ideas to the side for the moment. “We can still do something.”

“Like what?”

“I’m not sure, but you could think of something, I’m sure.”

“We could glue everything down so you can use anything?”

“Like stick the together?”

“Exactly, but we could use your magic so we could reverse it later.”

“I like how you think.”

About two hours later, the Avengers return from wherever they had been throughout the day and run to their rooms to avoid Loki. As soon as they noticed the two of you relaxing on the couch, they tensed up and sprinted. You pretended to not have told Loki about anything and watched them get nervous, trying to hide your amusement.

It’s only minutes later when they all run back in yelling at you about how they can’t pick anything up or open drawers. Loki looks over to you among the chaos and smiles, seeing the wide proud smile across your face.

“That was a lot of fun. You surprised me in the past though, too.”

“Whatever do you mean?” He laughs.

You had gotten hurt on a mission and found yourself with a broken arm. Every day activities became 10x harder because you have to do it with your non-dominant hand and it’s started to get annoying. You’ve been attempting to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for about 25 minutes now. Loki walked in to see you struggling with peanut butter all over your hand and a glob on the bread. There’s a giant tear in the middle of the piece you’re spreading it on and a frown on your face.

“You look like you’re struggling.”

“Thank you, captain obvious!” You exclaim in an angry tone, glaring daggers at the god.

“Do you need some help?”

“I would love some because clearly, I’m having some difficulty.”

Loki comes over and helps you finish making your sandwich. You sit down to eat but because of your bad mood, you don’t even want it now. Loki notices your distress and shakes it head, waving his hand by.

“You’re healed, now eat your sandwich.”

You look at him in confusion until you realize your arm doesn’t hurt as much when you move it. You rip off your cast and feel around to feel how your arm is completely healed.

“Thank you!”

“You can be very sweet sometimes.”

“Don’t let Stark hear that, he’ll think I have mind controlled you.”

The Avengers all sit around the bar and watch you and Loki dance. They have a big smile on their face as they see you two have fun, laughing and talking. Thor has never seen his brother look so relaxed and joyful before, it’s refreshing to see him happy. Steve and Tony don’t miss the way you look at Loki, it’s filled with more love than any friends would look at each with.

“You think there’s more there?” Thor asks.

Steve and Tony turn to look at him with confused yet amused faces. “Thor, you really are an idiot,” Tony laughs.

The song comes up to the last chorus and you and Loki have stopped talking. He swings you around and holds his body next to yours. The music get’s both of your attention.

Cause we’re stuck in the middle of lover and friends

And we’re losing every part of the benefits

You’ve hurt me more than I ever knew

But it’s shitty because I’m doing the same to you

As the lyrics set in, you remember all the things Loki has done for you. Making your PB&J, recommending books, keeping you company when the Avengers are away, dancing with you at New Years parties, giving you a hug when you return from missions, and not leaving your side when you’re hurt. Loki thinks of all the things that made you bearable. Your sense of humor, the smile on your face when you see him, the way you’ll reread books you love, the way you make fun of others with him, and how you defend him when they make fun of him.

“I think I like you,” you both say.

#loki fluff #loki fanfic #loki fan fiction #loki x reader #loki laufeyson #loki #loki x reader fluff #loki layfeyson x reader #loki oneshot #marvel x reader

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spideymarvelws · 4 years ago

Text

It’s The Law (1/2)

Prince!Alpha!Peter Parker x Fem!Omega!Reader

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglist

A/n at the end!

Summary : Being an omega was hard enough in the kingdom but being an omega maid was even worse. You were constantly told that you were nothing by everyone around you, constantly put down because of your status and class. But you never let them deter you, working even harder at your job despite every jab and sly comment thrown your way. Days became harder with time, the slander against your name growing harsher by age. Your dream of finding love in such a harsh environment becoming dust swept under the rug.

That was until the prince took interest in your scent.

Warnings : Smut? (nothing graphic just some background cockwarming and a few suggestive themes), unplanned pregnancy, violence, some fluff but we go angsty real quick, choking, mention of death, threats, Tony is lowkey as asshole (pls message me if i missed anything)

Word Count : 4.4k

...

It was a warm night in the castle. You and Peter didn't care for the sheets that had been discarded to the side of the bed hours ago, opting to lay on the mattress with your bodies exposed to the heat. The fire probably didn't help either, he could remember the small whines you let out when he snuck you into his room, complaining about the flames that erupted from the fireplace. But as you moved to put out the fire, he pulled you into his body, kissing you senseless until you forgot all about it, falling into bed with him.

He didn't want you to take out the light, he didn't want to lose sight of you. Sure he could have used the small candles his mother kept by his bedside at night, but that would only keep parts of your body visible to him when he wanted to experience the whole thing.

Sure it was selfish, but in the end it didn't matter. He was going to have you sweating by the end of the night either way, so what was the harm in a little heat to add on to that.

You both haven't had a night together, alone, in so long. He missed his omega, like any alpha would but more importantly, he missed his mate. He would go through any amount of heat to make sure the night stayed engraved in his head like every moment he ever had with you.

Especially tonight, where you laid naked spread out on top of him, making sure every part of your skin touched his. You were much more cuddly tonight, needier for his touch. You always had to be looking at him, keeping eye contact when he had his way with you. Even when you presented to him, ass high in the air, he had to pull your back against his chest, calming the loud whines escaping your throat.

But he wasn't complaining, in fact it only went to his alpha brain causing him to increase his past, to keep you close as he showed you how much he missed you. How much he loved. Now you were both spent, your body draped on him like his own personal blanket, clinging to him like a koala.

He didn't know when the next time might be where he could be with you like this after recent events he refused to tell you about, but he tried his best not to think about it. Even if it was taking up his mind when he should be focusing on you.

“What’s wrong, alpha,” You whispered into Peter’s ear, placing a lazy kiss to the side of his neck.

Peter looked down at you, raising his hand to rest in on your cheek, swiping a strand of hair that stuck to the side of your face. He smiled softly as you snuggled your face into his palm. Despite the layer of sweat covering your skin you still craved his warmth.

“Nothing is wrong omega,” he whispered, kissing your nose lightly, “I have everything i need right here,”

You giggled at his words, shaking your head, “Never knew the prince would be such a softy,”

Peter chuckled along with you, bringing you closer with his arms, “Only for you,” he sighed, “Only for my mate,”

“See, there’s the tone again,” you pouted, nuzzling your nose with his shoulder in an attempt to get him to speak up. You huffed when he stayed silent, rolling your eyes as you took things into your own hands, moving your legs to straddle his waist.

You pressed your hands against his chest to lean over him, his fingers moving to your waist, keeping you locked in your position. You began littering kisses on his face, starting with his forehead, then his pink cheeks and nose finally stopping at his chin.

“What. Is. Wrong. Peter.” you said in between kisses, pulling away when you felt the creases in the corner of his mouth deepen, “I’m going to get it out of you,”

“Sure you are omega,” he said, sliding his hands down your waist to the top of your thighs. You purred at his touch, nudging your nose against his as he continued, “So persistent,”

“And your so stubborn,” you sat back, crossing your arms over your chest when a idea popped in your head, “Come on Alpha,” you bit your lip, slowly grinding on his crotch, “Talk to me,”

Peter let out a warning growl, sitting up and pulling your chest against his, “You,” he grabbed your jaw, directing your gaze on to his, “Are on thin ice,” he paused, leaning up with his mouth by your ear, “Omega,”

You shivered, a small whimper escaping your mouth when he used his alpha voice. It was instinct for an omega to submit when an alpha used a specific tone. While Peter promised to never use it on you, it didn't mean he never did it playfully knowing how much it annoyed you.Your head fell on his shoulder, groaning into his skin as his laughs filled the room at your reaction.

“You’re mean, you know that?” you took a deep breath of his calming scent, “But you do know that changing the subject won’t work on me,”

“Yeah I figured,” he sighed, pulling back to look you in the eyes, “I just-,” he moved his hand back to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb, “I’m just really happy, that’s all,”

“That’s all?”, you said, tilting your head to the side, “Peter, come on, somethings wrong,” you brought your hand to his cheek, “Tell me Alpha,”

Peter sighed into your hand, awkwardly moving up against the headboard to his back could have some support with you on top of him. You readjusting yourself in his lap, his hand tightening on your skin when your thigh brushed his bare cock.

“Y/n...”

“Okay, that wasn't on purpose!”

“You know what?” he groaned, pulling you up slightly and lining up his member with your pussy, rubbing the tip along your lips. You bit your lip as he tapped your hip, signalling for you to lower yourself down, “There,” he bottomed out, “Now we may continue,”

You whined but stayed still placing your hands on his shoulders speaking out of your mind without thinking, “So the thing keeping you from talking in not having your dick in me,”

His mouth flew open, taken back by your words, “You, are, lucky you’re mine,” he grunted, the small smile on his face showed that he was far from annoyed.

You giggled, trying your best to focus back on the reason you were interrogating him, “Now, Peter,” you grabbed his face once more, “Speak,”

Peter sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time that night, pulling you closer to rest his head on your shoulder, inhaling your scent. You responded by running your hand through his damp hair.

“Sabina is getting suspicious about me, about us,” he kissed the side of your neck, his lips lingering for a few seconds, “I guess i didn’t mask your scent to well after last time,” You could feel his weak smirk against your skin, “I could feel her eyes every time I walk away from her, especially when I refuse to mate with her,”

“Peter,” you pulled back, looking him in the eyes, “You said you father didn’t want you two to mate yet, you said you’d tell her about us before this got to far,”

“I know, I know,” he said desperately, trying his best to keep your mind from wandering too far before he got out the entire story, “But I was planning on telling her tonight, but then the emergency happened and I-,” he pauses, “They left on the carriage earlier than expected,”

“Peter! Tomorrow is inspection, how am I supposed to hide my mark and my-,” you caught yourself, looking down to avoid his curious stare.

“And your?”

You sniffed wrapping your arms around yourself for some form of protection. You took a deep breath before responding, “My stomach Peter,” you hesitantly looked up into his soft brown eyes, “All the symptoms were there, what settled it was the small bump,” you laughed wearily, “And we both know I don't get enough food for that to happen,”

His mouth feel slightly open, his eyes filling with water as he put his hand on your stomach, “So you’re saying-,”

“I won't be able to go to a doctor but from what my mother told me...” you put your hands on his and just nodded, not sure if you could go on without bursting into tears.

“Oh my god,” his breath became heavy, “Oh my god,” he pulled you into a hug, tightening his hold as much as he could.

Peter didn't know how to feel, how to think. On one hand, his instincts told him to protect, to love, to cherish, to be grateful that out of all the women in the kingdom he met his mate and was lucky enough to have a child with them. It was the dream for all alpha’s, to see their mate, their omega swollen with their child, with their pup.

He’s had dreams of having a family ever since he presented as an alpha. He always watched in envy at his aunt and uncle, the rare case of royals being mates. He knew the chances were slim, but he never lost hope that one day, the intoxicating scent of an omega, of his omega would fill his senses.

Would make his alpha heart complete.

But would also shatter it whole.

He was a prince, set from birth to marry one of his kind. An omega was seen as not fit to rule, when one was born into the family, they were always seen as a disgrace, most likely to be married off to a knight or one of the royal advisers, disregarded from the blood line.

That’s where his Prince side came in.

Your love was forbidden, therefore your mating was as well. This child would mean hell, not for him but for you if anyone were to find out outside of the people he trusted. And with his future queen already on his tail, he didn't know if a child would be the best option for the both of you.

Even if he wanted it so bad.

“I’m not going to let them take you away from me,” he mumbled into your shoulder, his protective instincts kicking in, “If they ever lay a hand on you i swear I’ll-,”

“Peter,” your broken voice brought him out of his alpha frenzy, “There going to find out tomorrow either way, my scents slowly changing and the guards are going to sense two heartbeats and i-,” you breath hitched, “There’s no way out of this Peter,”

He forgot about the inspection his uncle’s adviser pushed every month. To check up on everyone who worked with the crown, making sure they were suitable and still held the rules set for their line of work. For you, being a maid meant, from what he remembered no mating and no possible mate.

Well you broke the rules within two weeks of meeting him and it was only three weeks ago he finally decided to claim you as his.

Meaning he was the one who got you into this mess.

And he was the one who was going to get you out of it

“What if we run away?”

You looked down at him shocked, “Run away, Peter! Are you insane?”

“I’m serious, my aunt, mother and Sabina are away on a trip, my uncle never really asks for my whereabouts, neither does my father,” He could feel the gears turning in his head, pulling at all the details and creating plan, “It’s the perfect opportunity,”

“What happened to just telling them about us?”

“Y/n, you and I both know they won’t allow it, even if I ask politely,”

You sat speechless, your mouth opening and closing, words failing to escape your mouth. He looked between your eyes, hoping to find something that would calm his racing heart. You gulped, finally processing his words as you said slowly, “But Peter, you’re the prince,’

He sighed, “That doesn’t matter,”

“Yes it does,” you shook your head, “Peter, if we leave, there is no way your uncle wouldn't send a search party out for you!”

“Not if we leave the land, set up somewhere else,” he reasoned, “Once we cross the seas, they wouldn't be able to find us,”

“That would mean we have to prepare in advance,”

“I’m the prince, I’m sure i could get a boat out of here at any convenience,”

“Then they’ll know where we’re going, track your recent purchases”

“I’ll just pass it through Harley, he knows about you-,”

“Harley knows about me!”

“He helped me hide us don't worry,” he moved on quickly, cursing at what he let slip, “Look the point is, we need to get you out of here,” he pulled you impossibly closer, “And you’re not leaving without me okay?” He let his forehead fall against yours, “I’m not leaving my omega,” his voice cracked, “Or my possible child,”

“Peter-,” you breathed, biting your lip as you felt tears begin to form in your eyes.

“This is our only chance Y/n,” he whispered, “This was long overdue, us finally going off, living life together,” he laughed softly, “Maybe this is just the final push we needed,”

You stayed silent for quite some time, trying to process his words. If you leave tonight, there was a chance that it would reach the king before you and Peter could step out the castle walls. If you both made it out, it would take days for you both to reach the port, during that time there wasn't a chance that nobody would notice his absence and send a group out to look for him. Leaving meant the possibility of getting caught risking both your life and your child for the chance at freedom.

But if you stayed, the inspection would happen, outing you as mated and pregnant with another alpha’s child, punishable by death. You couldn't imagine leaving peter like that, losing a mate was like losing a part of yourself, it completely shatters the person, leaving them a shell of who they once were.

But in Peter’s case, he couldn't show that he was mated, because he was already promised to another, someone that wasn't you. You could already feel your heart plummet at the thought of him without you, of your alpha stuck with another.

You couldn't even think of the possibility.

But in the end, only one option had the chance of escape, the chance of a life outside the castle.

And that was to run away.

“Okay Parker,” you mumbled, finally looking him in his shiny brown eyes, “Let’s do it,”

“Are- are you serious?” Peter grinned.

You nodded, giggling when he pulled you into a sloppy kiss. Your teeth clashed while your lips move out of sync but either of you could have cared less, thoughts of a life together plaguing your minds.

Thoughts of starting a family of your own coming right after.

Peter giggled, pulling away breathless, “I’ll try my best to have the inspection pushed back to the next day so we have time to prepare,” he looked up at you with a sly smirk, “Now that’s out of the way,”

He quickly picked you up slightly to lay you down on the bed, slamming his cock back into you when it slipped out. Your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, your arms thrown around his shoulder as he slowly grinded into you.

“I believe we have some unfinished business,”

…

Peter waited by the stables the next night, leaning against the wall of the enclosure of the horse he planned for the both of you to ride. The plan was simple, Harley would fake an emergency distracting most of the guards so the both of you could leave without being detected. His aunt or mother wouldn't be back until the next day which would most likely be the moment they figure out about his absence.

But by then you would be halfway across the lands, close to the docs to board a small boat, ready to take you wherever you wanted. To finally start a new life together.

Of course, he would have to make a few stops along the way to buy materials and food which might slow you both down a bit, but the initial head start would give you enough time. Well, he hoped would give you enough time.

All he needed now was for you to come and as time passed by, he grew more worried when you never cdid. It wasn't hard to sneak out of the maids quarters, especially with the majority of the guards on the other side of the castle, he expected you to hear your small footsteps running down the creaky wood stairs, your scent invading his senses.

But it never happened, he waited until dawn and nothing.

That was until a stinging scent filled his nostrils.

“Didn’t expect you to stay for so long Peter,” she sounded from behind him, making him whip his head around. He didn't care to hide his distaste at her presence, his nostrils flaring as a low growl escaped his mouth.

“What did you do,” he said, clenching his fists by his side. Peter wasn't dumb, he knew that with her sudden presence she had to do something with your absence, “Aren’t you suppose to be on a trip,”

“Got cut short, much to your dismay,” the beta began walking closer to the alpha, sizing him up with her steady strides, “Word of a mated Omega,” she tilted her head to the side, “I’m sure you’ve heard of her,”

“What the fuck did you do Sabina,” he spat, matching her steps as he backed her up against the wall right at the bottom of the stairway.

“Oh I didn’t do anything,” usually the slight waver in her voice would give Peter a burst of pride, but now it just made him feel shameful, “I’m sure she was aware of the rules,”

“DON’T FUCK WITH ME!” he shouted, slamming his hands on the walls, “What. The fuck. Did you do?”

“The right thing for this kingdom Peter,” she sneered, “Doing something that you are to stupid to do,”

“And what’s that?”

“Getting rid of your mate,” she grinned sickly, “You didn’t actually think we left for so long did you? A week before our wedding?” she chuckled, “Well your a lot more dumb that I thought,”

In a fit of rage Peter found himself wrapping his hand around her neck, slamming her further against the wall. The small whimpers failed to register in his mind as his grip became tighter and tighter, his anger increased with every passing moment.

“Ah, ah, ah, Peter,” he tisked, barely able to speak, “I’m not the one you should be worrying about right now,” she giggled frailly, “Not when your little omega is in trouble,”

He felt his heart drop when Sabina mentioned your title, his hand loosening immediately, dropping her to the floor. He didn't waste anymore time listening to her coughs as he sped up the stairs and into the castle, searching for your scent.

But he couldn't find it, his heart breaking more and more with every room he entered. He could feel his chest begin to tighten, his senses going into overdrive as his mind wandered to the horrible things that might have happened. That he wasn't there to stop.

He should have picked you up from the quarters, he should've made sure you were out there with him or had Harley escort you. To make sure you arrived safely. It was stupid of him to let you leave alone, to trust that no one caught on to his plans.

He couldn't give up now, his feet taking up across the castle once again, growling at anyone who tried to stop him. He was going feral, his palms sweating as his breath became heavy almost growling with every breath.

That was until he caught another scent, one that smelt like burnt wood and dry blood, seeping from the doors of the throne room.

Tony sat on the throne, leg crossed over the other as he sipped on some wine from his favourite gold chalice. He was making casual conversation with his guards as Peter burst into the room rage and guilt radiating off of him as he stomped up to the middle of the room.

He looked awful, his hair ruffled like he had been tugging and pulling at the strands constantly. His shirt was ruffled up, the button up raffled along with his trousers.

“Where is she,” he growled, his voice croaky and low.

Tony only sighed at his son’s exaggerated tone, placing his chalice in the hands of another before standing up, fixing his tunic in the process. He walked down the few steps that lead to his throne, approaching his son with crossed arms.

“I don’t know who you’re-,”

“Don’t try that shit with me, alright,” Peter said, exasperated as he threw his arms in the air, “Where the fuck did you put her,”

Tony lost all playfulness in his voice, rolling his eyes at the boy's words, “I thought you were her mate? Why are you asking me,”

“How did you figure it out,”

Tony only laughed, “A little birdie told me, but even then it was quite obvious. I just thought I raised you well enough to resist,”

“Resist my mate?” It was Peter’s turn to laugh, “You’re growing more and more into a salty old man everyone pins you to be,”

“Everyone pins me to be?” Tony walked around Peter, pointing his finger in the air, “I’m a man of law Peter, that’s what makes me king,”

“Ever think that the law is fucking stupid?” Peter scoffed.

“Do not talk to your father like that,”

“Or what?” Peter sized him up, despite him being slightly shorter that the king, he still stood tall over him, “Your going to throw me in the-,” his breath hitched, “Dungeons...you put her in the dungeons,”

Tony laughed once more, “You’re not as dumb as I thought,”

“If you hurt her-”

“Oh calm your little alpha brain,” tony snickered, “I won’t hurt her yet, she’s holding my grandchild! I’m not that much of a monster,”

“So you admit that you are one,”

“Of sorts yes,” tony looked at him expectantly, “Well you put two and two together, why aren't you going after her,”

Peter scoffed, “As you said before, I’m not dumb,”

Tony only smiled, turning to sit back on his throne. He knew he already won when he watched his guards take you down to your cell, he always does. Sure, it was sick how much joy it brought him to see his own son in distress, but it wasn't his fault. His job was to see that the laws of the crown were always followed. He was only doing his job.

At least that’s what he told himself.

Regardless, it was over. In the next two days we would discuss an execution for the poor omega (he didn't take the time to learn your name) with his council for such crimes and everything would be back to normal, back to the way it’s supposed to be.

“What ever happened to your mate, Tony,” Peter suddenly said from behind him, making him stop in his tracks, “I’m sure you’ve had one in the past,”

“I don’t know what your talking about,”

Peter looked at him in disbelief, turning the tables as he found a way to get under his father’s skin, “So the scar on your neck is just a fashion statement?”

“If you know what’s good for you then you’d shut the hell up,” Tony turned around, pointing a finger in the boy's direction.

But Peter stayed persistent, knowing that the only way to get to his father was threw words, “You know the pain of losing a mate Tony, don’t make me go threw the same thing because of fucking laws,”

“I’m the not the one who put you in that position Peter,” Tony said, walking back up to the boy, “I wasn't the one who broke the law for fucking love,” he laughed, his eyes blowed as he shook his head, “What’s happening to her is your fault-,”

“Just like what happened to Pepper, it happened because of you,”

“Keep her name out of your mouth!” Tony snapped, striding up to Peter and grabbing him by the collar as he shouted in his face, “Don’t you ever mention her again,”

“Then let Y/n go,” Peter whispered, carefully choosing his next few words, “Let my omega go,”

“You know I can’t do that,”

“Yes you can,”

“But I won’t, and you know god damn well why,”

Peter didn’t push further, with the close proximity of his father, he could see the corners of his eyes start to shine, his lip trembling slightly. It was a low blow to bring up a past mate, one he only learned about while eavesdropping a conversation with him and his grandfather. But he knew it was the only way to get to him, and in his defence it seemed to be working.

“I’m going to get her out of here,” Peter calmly, “I’m going to get her and my child out of here, away from you and I don't care if the kingdom burns when I leave,”

“Over my. Dead. Body,” Tony sneered, finally letting go of his shirt, watching as his nephew stumbled a little to regain his balance.

“Then so be it,” Peter said lowly as he walked out of the room, the guards immediately following his fast stride.

He didn't know where he was going, what he was going to do. He couldn't trust anyone, not when your life and child was on the line. The conversation he just had seemed all over the place as he tried to process every words spoken. But as he entered his chambers, slamming the door almost off its hinges one thing became clear to him.

That he needed to get you out of here, he needed to get you both out of this kingdom.

With or without his father on his side.

...

A/n : I’ve been wanted to do alpha!peter for so long and finally got the inspo to do one. I have an idea for part two, so stay tune for that!

also shameless self promo if you like nail art please consider following my nail blog @nails-golden it’d be pretty cool okay bye bye-

Permanent Taglist : @jadegill @joyleenl @sarcastic-sunset-7 @wakeupandsmellthelavender

Peter Parker Taglist : @ietss @itscaminow @dummiesshort @seutarose @lovewolfspirit

#peter parker x reader #peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x fem!reader #alpha!peter #alpha!peter parker #prince!peter #prince!peter parker #royal!au #peter parker x you #alpha!peter parker x omega!reader #omega!reader #a/b/o #marvel #peter parker fluff #peter parker angst

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splishsplashyouretrash · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!!! So you want a smut request? You get a smut request! So can I ask dom! Suna Rintaro x Sub! Shy! fem! reader that wants secretly do light bondaged (her hands and ankles handcuffed/or is use with rope and be blindfolded.)? And Suna find out by reading her Diary secretly. So he wants later suprise her.( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) She forget to lock her Diary and put in the bedside table when she was doing something, (like taking a shower or making food or dry the clothes from the washing machine or something else. Oh and it's a scenario/one-shot.

all tied up (18+)

hi lovely, here's what i've done for your request, i hope you like it!! ❤️ also there's potential for a part two if you or anyone else would be interested ;)

characters: soft dom!suna x shy sub fem!reader - timeskip suna just to clarify

warnings: smut, minors do not interact, curse words, soft dom, light bondage (handcuffs), praise, slight degradation, overstimulation perhaps...

word count: 1174

suna had always found it adorable how you would sit in bed and pour words into that little diary of yours and he’d by lying if he said he wasn’t interested to see what went on in that pretty head of yours. he knew better than to disrespect your privacy, he had always been such a sweetheart to you and he saw you as such an angel that he could never imagine there would be anything bad written in the diary. he kept telling himself that it couldn’t be anything that he wouldn’t know about as you had learnt to open up over the months despite being shy - he trusted you.

all of those thought flew out the window when the chance arose. you had once again been writing away until you said you were going to head for a shower. you tucked the diary into the bedside drawer it always lay in except you didn’t check to see if you had locked it. if anyone had been present in the room, they would’ve sworn that suna’s eyes lit up when he saw this opportunity staring back at him. he waited until he could distinctly hear the shower being turned on before he reached over the bed and took the diary into his hands. his values were long gone as he flipped it open, cautiously listening for when you would be back. the pages felt smooth under his calloused fingertips as he flicked to a random page and started to read your inked words. he felt his jaw drop a little as the realisation hit him that you weren’t this sweet innocent princess he had always perceived you as. But instead you were talking - no, begging - about how badly you wanted to submit to him, how you wanted to be tied down and let him have his way with you. he had to admit that he’d fucked his fist many times thinking about being dominant with you but he had never dared bring it up with you, until now.

the water had stopped. he realised this too late as you came in and shamefully caught him right in the act. you lunged forward trying to snatch it from his hands and whining about how he wasn’t meant to read that. in your efforts to try and retrieve it, you had let go of your towel which now lay on the floor and when the both of you realised this, you hurried to cover yourself with a blush setting on your cheeks.

“suna you bastard, you give it back!” your exasperated tone was made clear as he handed it back with a defeated look on his face.

“babyyy why didn’t you tell me you were such a little slut?” he purred as he pulled you onto his lap. “you know i would’ve happily obliged baby, i’m happy to try anything as long as it makes you feel good.” his words made your y/e/c eyes widen and a pout formed on your lips. you told him that you didn’t think that he’‘d be up for it to which he violently shook his head, rejecting your claim.

the two of you sat closely spoke about it for a while, what it was exactly that you wanted which turned out was what he had waned to. he proposed a date later that night and afterwards the two of you could try it out, something that made you incredibly nervous as the only times you had been intimate was pretty vanilla and you didn’t have the heart to tell him you had to make yourself cum afterwards. you were so focused on making sure he felt good that you had neglected your own needs and wants. that was something both you and suna were determined to change tonight.

after spending a few hours getting food and walking around, happily enjoying each other’s presence, you tugged at his shirt and asked to go home. he greeted you with a smile and a sweet peck on the lips. when you got inside, you were met with an array of things sprawled out on the bed that suna must’ve done before you two headed out. you walked over, kicking off your shoes and picking up the handcuffs, the cool metal soothing your skin. you turned around to find him pushing you onto the bed. his thigh pressed your legs apart as his lips met yours before he moved down to place hot kisses down your neck. looking up at you, he watched you writhe under him and could only begin to imagine the pretty sounds you’ll be making once you’re all tied down and spread for him. as much as he wanted to savour taking your clothes off, he needed you and soon enough, his hands found purchase in the middle of your dress. a loud rip echoed through the room as you looked at him in shock. he immediately set his hands on you, your legs wrapping around his waist which only brought him closer.

“you sure you wanna do this, love? tell me yellow to slow down and red to stop okay princess?” you nodded eagerly as you watched him reach for the handcuffs, anticipation heating your thighs. he took your wrists into his hands and wrapped the metal around them before securing them to the bed frame. with open-mouthed kisses trailing down your body, he repeated his previous actions to your ankles until you were lying there helpless and spread for him. your slit and thighs glistened with your slick as he bent down and licked a stripe up it. he heard your breathing hitch so he kept going, grabbing at your thighs as if he was trying to go even deeper with his tongue, alternating to wrap his lips around your clit. god you sounded oh so pretty like this as he could feel your desperation through your whimpers as the knot tightened in your core, begging to cum.

“babygirl i wanna hear you beg for me okay, use that pretty voice to ask nicely” you were barely keeping it together at this point, he was cruelly keeping you on edge like never before but soon enough you found yourself stringing out incoherent pleas. your eyes rolled back as you felt the pleasure almost rip through your exposed body, accompanied by a slur of his name. you gasped when you felt his hand return to your pussy, suna’s skilled fingers worked up your body until they found your tits, gently playing with your nipples which elicited a whine from you.

“such lewd noises you’re making pretty girl, and what a mess too hmm it’s a pity you’re so worked up i haven’t even fucked you yet” he lowly growled into your ear as you felt his straining cock through his jeans. despite feeling slight fear at his words, you couldn’t help the wetness pooling between your thighs again as you watched him start to strip off right in front of you - all tied up.

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13uswntimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Shy but Fierce (Alpha!Christen x Omega!Reader)

Request: alpha christen one where the reader is new on the team and they find out they’re mates? maybe christen is shy but also v fierce when it comes to her new found omega

Pt. 2

Special thanks to @literaryhedgehog for helping me make this thing not as heavy as it originally way and livening it up with her BBQ discussion. Hit me up with Questions or if ya just wanna say hi!

It was a warm wave rolling through your body. The feelings of all your nerves tingling on end and your souls reaching out to intertwine with another’s. You smiled at the warmth spreading through your chest as you made eye contact with the green-eyed veteran.

Of all the things you expected from your first camp, meeting your mate in the first 20 minutes was not one of them. Your best friend had told you that the team was welcoming, but this was definitely more than you bargained for.

Nonetheless, you smiled charmingly up at the frozen alpha, lifting her hand to your lips.

“Well it's most definitely a pleasure to meet you,” You purred, smirking at the blush that crawled up the alpha’s (your alpha’s?) cheeks.

Rose rolled her eyes at your antics. The alpha had known you since you were in diapers, and in that time she had learned you were not your stereotypical omega. You weren’t meek or shy and loved to flirt. Christen was gonna have fun trying to reel you in.

Christen opened and closed her mouth several times, wide eyes taking you in. Tobin snickered behind her.

“What Chris, cat got your tongue?”

“Not yet, but I’m sure it will soon,” You smirked, lips ticking up at Christen’s dropped jaw. If your alpha was this easy to fluster when you weren’t even trying, this was going to be a blast.

“Hey hot stuff, middy meeting starts soon, we better go,” Rose smiled, throwing an arm over your shoulder, amused by your effect on the normally put together alpha.

“Later cutie pie, see you on the field,” You winked at Christen, kissing her hand again before allowing Rose to guide you to where the rest of the midfielders were getting ready to meet.

Christen watched you go with wide eyes, still trying to process what had just happened.

“Holy shit, is she always like that?” Christen asked, looking at Mal. If her alpha knew you so well, then she was bound to have insights.

Mal suppressed her snicker “This is her going easy on you,”

The omega had heard the stories about you and found them difficult to believe at first. But seeing you in action was pretty inspiring.

“It’s nice to see after everything that happened with the Courage,” Megan added, watching you carefully.

She didn’t think she would ever be able to get the sight of you pale and sickly out of her head. You had been so hesitant when you joined the Regin, and Rose had been overly protective (Megan would learn that there was a very good reason why as she got to know you).

“What happened with the Courage?” Christen snapped, her elation dwindling as she tried to find some sense of unease in your stance. Her eyes squeezed when she couldn’t find anything. Soon enough she would be able to read you like the back of her hand.

“That’s her story to tell,” Mal said firmly, shaking her head. Christen frowned, she might be shy and “adorable” as you put it, but she would cut a bitch if they hurt her mate.

*****

“Hey cutie, is this seat taken?” You asked, gesturing towards the seat beside your mate.

“N-no not at all,” Christen stuttered out, blushing when she accidentally released a small puff of her pheromones. God, she felt like a teenager going through their first rut.

“Fantastic,” You smirked, sitting down, and moving the chair so it was very close to the alpha, so close your thighs were basically touching. “Hmm, you smell good,” you hummed, leaning in so your nose was nearly touching her neck and breathing in deep. If this was a snapshot into what the rest of your life was going to be, you were completely ok with that.

“Th-thanks,” She shivered as your cold nose touched her skin, closing her eyes and biting her lip, trying with every ounce of her being to control her instincts.

****

“You better save her before she melts,” Mal said, leaning into her alpha. Rose carded her fingers through the omega’s hair, scratching her scalp the way she knew her mate liked.

“Nah, let Y/n have her fun. She hasn’t been this relaxed in forever,” Sonnett snorted, shaking her head as Christen’s face got progressively redder.

“Seems like Y/n is handling herself fine to me,” Rose shrugged.

You hadn’t been this open with anyone since she had rescued you from the courage. She wasn’t going to step in between you and the thing (person) who was making you happy. Chris was a big girl and she could handle herself.

****

“Alright lovebirds, it’s only the first night of camp and you’re already disgustingly sweet,” Ashlyn said feigning seriousness as she took the seat on your other side. You missed the look Ali shot her in your haste to scoot away from your alpha, knocking over your plate in the process.

Your eyes stayed glued to your lap and your head tilted just slightly to the side. Christen’s eyebrows furrowed as you seemed to sink in on yourself.

Rose was on her feet immediately, rushing over to put herself in between you and Ashlyn. Christen took that as her cue and was also on her feet seconds later.

“If it bothers you, Ashlyn, you can sit somewhere else,” Christen growled, stepping around you to act as a barrier between you and the very confused alphas “It doesn’t bother me I was just saying--” Ashlyn sputtered.

“Well don’t!” Rose snapped, turning her back on Ashlyn to look at you. “You okay KitKat?”

“Yeah I’m fine,” you murmured, avoiding her eyes, your head still tilting to expose your neck. She sighed.

“You don’t have to do that. This team is different,” she mumbled, and you nodded noncommittally.

“You spilled your barbecue.” She laughed, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s Memphis style barbecue anyway, hardly worth eating,” you said, giving her a tight-lipped smile.

“Yeah, don’t know why they bother, everyone knows Kansas style is the best” Becky scoffed, smiling from across the table and winking at Rose.

“I mean, I would say that good barbecue is one of the only good things to come out of North Carolina,” you said, grinning into your napkin, “but then y’all haven’t tried Cookout milkshakes.”

“What happened in North Carolina?” Christen interjected, and you froze, biting your lip so hard she was afraid you would draw blood.

Your smile faded, and your eyes took on a faraway look.

*****

You were not the typical omega. You were outgoing and a bouncing ray of sun that loved to meet new people. On your first day with the courage you had bounded up to everyone, your hand stuck out and a bright grin on your face (an act that had gotten you into serious trouble).

You looked one too many alphas in the eye before one took a particular offense and forced you to submit. Most of the team and coaching staff had simply watched while she humiliated you.

As the season progressed, things had only gotten worse and you had become more and more unbalanced. You jumped at the opportunity to get out of there the second you could, thanking God that there was a spot for a striker on the Reign with Rose.

*****

“Hinkle thought it would be fun to assert her alpha ness,” You shrugged, picking at your fingers, flinching at the weight of Christen’s eyes on you, and the pheromones she was beginning to emit.

“She forced you to submit?” The alpha asked breathlessly, her heart dropping when you gave her a singular stiff nod, wincing as though it pained you. She was sure it did. It was the greatest form of disrespect. “How many times,” she tried to keep her voice level, she didn’t want to scare you off.

“Too many,” You said slowly.

“I would never make you do that. None of us would,” Christen said horrified, kneeling down in front of you, and letting out her soothing scent. Though you weren’t mates yet, it still wrapped around you like a warm blanket, settling your nerves.

You nodded quickly, grabbing her hand for support. “I know. I could tell. Plus you blush too much to be an asshole alpha,” you smirked towards the end, she smiled in return.

“You might turn me to mush, but that’s not going to stop me from ripping her head off the next time I see her,”

She wasn’t the only one who held that sentiment. It was fair to say that a certain North Carolina defender was going to hit the turf a lot next season. No one got to mess with one of their teammates.

#uswnt imagine #uswnt imagines #uswnt x reader #christen press x reader

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deniigi · 4 years ago

Note

A fic from Boba’s POV as a babysitter seeing Din’s family dynamics isn’t self indulgent it’s indulgent to your readers - fuck, that sounds like the best, most hilarious thing ever?!? (With peppered in bits of Boba’s identity crisis/diaspora feels)

I say you release babysitter boba fic ;) It sounds hilarious

Ask and you shall receive, anons. Beware. It’s like 11k of world building lol.

(I will post here and not on Ao3 because I’m not ready for that level of commitment rn lol)

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

(Din’s original finder’s old crush on the Armorer is rekindled after he helps her reunite with Din. He tries to win her favor, but keeps getting tripped up by Din who knows she’s not interested. Boba Fett’s POV.)

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

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

Boba ten years ago would have spat at the very idea that such meagre fare would suit his humor, but he was getting old, man. You had to take what you could get, and Djarin’s bared rage was a sight to behold.

Currently, he was locked in combat with Urro Bojzka. The Urro Bojzka. The one who even Boba had heard of, growing up on Kamino.

Dad had had some pointed feelings about Mr. Bojzka. Mainly, they revolved around how it was unfair that everyone called him an opportunistic traitor when Bojzka continued to exist and thrive in the universe at large, but Dad also had more specific feelings about Bojzka that bordered on jealousy.

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

He was big. He was strong. He sounded like he’d smoked six different kinds of spice for forty years, and nothing and no one could take him down.

The cherry on top was that he was notorious for rescuing kids. The man had snatched nearly two hundred up out of smoking ruins and battlefields. A good twenty or thirty had become foundlings and then Mandalorians themselves, and counted among their number now, to Bo-Katan’s absolute glee, was their sweet, precious Din Djarin.

They should have known. Din was the epitome of Mandalorian; it figured that Urro Bojzka himself would have picked him up as a child.

Din however, had little appreciation for this fact beyond that which was only polite. He made it very clear that he’d already thanked Bojzka for taking him out of his childhood hellhole. He’d done that bare minimum and so no one could ask anything more of him.

Bojzka had other plans.

It turned out that Urro Bojzka had a thing for Din’s covert’s Armorer. God, did he have a thing. And not only did he have a thing, but he’d had it for decades.

Apparently, a thousand years ago, when Boba and Din and all the others around them had still been rolling around on dirt floors trying to eat beetles and shit, Bojzka had attempted to court Din’s Armorer. He’d gone as far and wide as a young Mando could. He’d tried flowers, perfume, credits, displays of strength and courage. He’d tried gifts of food and offers of travel. He’d even stooped so low as to read a book.

None of it had gone well for him. And that was probably because Din’s Armorer had recently proven herself to be no less than one of the heiresses of the Katzkai clan.

The Renda Bears. Those people were hard-fucking-core.

When Bo-Katan found out that Din’s ‘Goran’ was, in fact, Nomri Katzkai, the second daughter of Lanlee Katzai and the official apprentice of Fii Katzkai, the imperial Armorer himself, she threw up her hands and declared all endeavors hopeless now.

Din was one of them; he just didn’t know it. And his buir, who had removed herself from her family to be even more hardcore than anyone would have thought possible, didn’t seem overly excited to start explaining shit to him anytime soon.

So here they were. With Din about to kill one of the most famous war heroes in recent Mandalorian history over a crush that wouldn’t quit.

Bojzka smiled at him with dark eyes with scars through both of his eyebrows.

“Just a message,” he lobbied. “One letter.”

Boba would’ve fucked him. Yeah, why not? Just look at him.

“She’s busy,” Din said. “You’ll have to submit it to Eegang Quodo. That’s E-e-g-a—”

“Yeah, see. Here’s the thing, kid. This letter’s gonna be kinda personal, if you catch my drift—”

“Q-u-o—”

“—probably not great for the eyes of anyone who ain’t, you know, in on this whole relationship—”

“—d-o. He’s usually busy, too. So you probably should submit it to Paz, instead. He’ll lose it for you forever. That’s P-a-z—”

Fennec hid a razor-sharp grin behind a clenched fist. She flashed it at Boba.

‘I love him’ she mouthed, pointing at Din’s hiked-up shoulders. Even his cape seemed to have gone stiff in Bojzka’s presence.

“Din, honey. Listen to me,” Bojzka crooned. “I know you’re protective of your mama, but—”

“She’s not my mother. Don’t you fucking dare call her that, you hulking piece of—”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re not listening. Come on. Chin up. Ears open.”

Bojzka tapped at the bottom of Din’s helmet like a CO with a teenage recruit, and Fennec just about screamed when Din went completely still and silent.

Bo-Katan met Boba’s gaze out of the corner of her eye. She mimed a syringe. Boba shook his head. If this fucker got bit, he deserved whatever infection it brought.

“Atta boy,” Bojzka said to Din’s rigid silence. “Here’s how it is: your mama and me go way, way back. And you know, after your touching reunion the other week, she even went and had a drink with me, and we got to talkin’ and started to reconnect, the old folks do. And I could read her body language, Din-Din. She wants a man. And that man’s me. So instead of actin’ like a child over all this, why don’t we—”

“She wanted Naseem,” Din snapped. “But Naseem died. Twenty years ago, he died. You just wear similar boots.”

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

“Naseem,” Din repeated like he was an idiot. “Traditional, bantha-sized, green armor. He worked all the time to keep all the kids in the covert fed.”

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

“He’s dead,” Din said. “And Hajka left. So no. Goran needs neither a man or a woman, and especially not you. What she needs is a break and for Karren to stop fighting people on sight.”

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

“Karren, that’s her youngest, right?” he asked. “Well, I bet Karren could use some sisters. I bet he’s lonely over there on, uh.”

“Zeffo,” Din gritted out. “And no. He’s not. He has three sisters. One of which is still at the covert, terrorizing him left and right.”

Even Bo-Katan could only empathize so much with Bojzka, war hero or nah.

“Why’re you all up in arms, Din? What’d I do to you?” Bojzka finally asked. “Don’t you want your buir to be happy?”

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

“Of course, I do,” he said. “Which is why if you set so much as a toe on Zeffo, I’m taking both of your knees with me to Yavin.”

Any parent would have been proud to have Din as their child. He took family honor to a level that even the Katzkai clan would have had a hard time sniffing at.

He had to have learned this from the wayward heiress. Although, if Boba was honest, he didn’t really think that the wayward heiress was all that wayward.

She’d come to visit Din on Tatooine. She was short and stocky and not terribly interested in the court or anyone outside of Din.

She wasn’t nearly as hostile as Bo-Katan expected either. She didn’t appear to love anything that she was looking at, no, but Din had explained that that was mostly because she wasn’t really a fan of him having become Mand’alor to start with.

When she came to visit, anyways, she was far more interested in getting a good fuss in to give herself peace of mind that Din was okay. That way she could then go back to dealing with the apparently endless series of crises at the new covert.

She was a great parent in that way. She even brought along her youngest, so that he could see his big brother.

That kid was fuckin’ adorable. Maybe fourteen or fifteen years old. Barely, barely, barely in armor. He was strapped into his leathers so tight, he looked like he was stuffed with straw.

He had medium-brown skin with yellow undertones and huge, nearly-black eyes. Coarse black hair poured into his face and curled around his ears—and if he thought he was going to stuff all that in a helmet one day, he had another thing coming.

He bopped after his buir when they entered the palace and stopped occasionally to stare up in awe at the palace’s high ceilings. Upon realizing that he’d lost his escort, he scampered along to catch up and did the whole thing again and again until buir had enough and snatched his hand.

He didn’t like that. He was fourteen-fifteen years old. He was too big for hand-holding, buir.

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

“Hush,” the Armorer told him. “Keep up.”

He was handed off to Boba outside Din’s personal quarters, mostly because he was making such a fuss at the Armorer that she began contemplating leaving him at the palace forever. Din intervened and the kid latched onto him instead until Din convinced him that he’d be available talk just as soon as he and their buir were done speaking.

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

“—so Goran said, ‘I’m not having that idiot in my rooms.’ But then Eegang said, ‘we already have Paz in these rooms,’ and you’re not supposed to laugh, Mr. Fett, but we all did because we’re all stupid. So we had to do like, a thousand chores for eavesdropping.”

“So she’s not into him, then?” Fennec clarified. “He’s really into her, you know.”

“Of course, I know,” Karren lamented. “But Goran’s picky and the last person she was all close with was Hajka and we’re not allowed to talk about her anymore or Din’ll make you do two hundred push-ups while he watches.”

Amazing. Say more about Din’s oldest-child syndrome, little one.

“No, I like Din,” Karren sighed. “Now that Digo’s gone, he’s even nicer.”

Oh?

“What happened to Digo?” Boba asked as Bo-Katan joined them in curiosity.

“Digo’s a jerk is what happened,” Karren huffed. “She wanted Goran to give over the forge and join the elders, but Goran isn’t even that old. So when she said ‘no,’ Digo got mad and said that the only foundling Goran respects is Din. Which is bullshit because everyone knows that Goran has always been the nicest with Digo and Nasif—she made all sorts of excuses for them, Mr. Fett, like when they went out and got caught stealing parts like Jawas, she did four whole hunts to raise their bail. When Din gets in trouble, he takes care of it himself. He doesn’t ask Goran to do that kind of thing. And me and Shimmol just don’t get in that kind of trouble to start with—but no. Digo had to be all ‘if you don’t treat us as equals, then we’re gonna leave and start our own forge.’”

“No kidding,” Fennec said. “So they left?”

“Yeah, both of them ‘cause Nasif does anything Digo tells her to,” Karren said, kicking his feet. “And good riddance.”

Too many sisters, this one had. Boba felt for him.

“So Goran’s still recovering from that betrayal, I take it?” he asked.

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

“I dunno,” he admitted. “No one tells me anything. I think that Goran’s been more worried about Din than them after all that happened. We thought he got crunched by the jedi—or at least I thought he got crunched. Paz says that Jedis compact Mandalorians into cubes of armor and Din’s got the best armor.”

Do not laugh at the child. Do not laugh at the child.

“I don’t think Jedis crunch Mandalorians,” Bo-Katan said generously, having snuck into the bare antechamber while everyone was distracted with the kid’s story.

“Well, I do,” Karren countered, with zero conception of who he was talking to.

Fennec beamed.

“Do you like this Urro guy?” she asked.

“No,” Karren answered immediately. “He’s sent Eegang four messages and they’re all gross.”

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

“What makes them gross?” Bo-Katan asked.

“The mush,” Karren said expertly. “Bojzka calls Goran ‘Nomri.’ That’s a bad word at home. No one says that word. Goran is ‘Goran.’ The only people who call her anything else are the elders.”

“And you and your siblings, no?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karran cocked his head at her.

“Yeah, and ‘buir’ I guess, if we aren’t in trouble,” he said.

Bless him.

“Are you in trouble a lot?” Bo-Katan asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“I dunno. I got a temper or something.”

“Is Din in trouble?”

“With buir? No, not like me and Shimmol. He’s too old to be in that kind of trouble. His trouble’s like ‘help, I fell a hundred feet off a cliff’ kind of trouble. He gives Goran indigestion, but she can’t make him reflect on falling a million feet out of a ship—Eegang says that’s called ‘rehashing trauma.’”

The covert on Zeffo sounded like it was holding itself together through sheer force of will and that alone.

Where did Boba sign up? It sounded like a fantastic experiment to pass the time.

“Are you a foundling, Karren?” Boba asked.

The kid lit up.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ve been with Goran for five years now. Six in a few months. My dad’s a piece of shit. He killed my mom, and Goran got him arrested for that and for what he did to my auntie.”

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

“And you like it there—on Zeffo?” Bo-Katan asked.

Karren shrugged.

“It’s cold and wet,” he said. “I liked Nevarro better. Din was home more on Nevarro.”

Awww.

“Aren’t you proud of Din for becoming Mand’alor?” Bo-Katan asked as gently as she could manage.

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

“No,” he said. “Din should just come home. He doesn’t need to be Mand’alor or married to some jedi. He should just come home. It’s stupid; his foundling should have stayed with us from the start. We always have room for more foundlings. I dunno why he had to leave with his foundling at all.”

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “If it helps, I think he just wants to come home, too.”

“So let him,” Karren blurted out to her.

Tough tits, kid. That wasn’t how it worked.

“I think we should perhaps focus on one thing at a time,” Bo-Katan said. “What do you think, Fett?”

What did Boba think?

Boba thought that he had a great idea to distract this kid from missing his big brother.

---

Karren was perhaps a little too small still to reach the brakes in the crawler, but you know what? So was Fennec sometimes and she did just fine.

“Gas,” Boba said, pointing. “Neutral. Brake. Park.”

“Gas, neutral, brake, park,” Karren repeated to him with his hands on the wheel and his knobbly wrists peeking out from the gap between his gloves and his leather braces.

Bo-Katan had refused to be present or responsible for this. Fennec had told them to wait while she went and took a shot first. ‘For safety’ she said.

“What’s neutral for?”

“You’re about to tell me,” Boba said, adjusting the rear view mirrors down to kid-height.

The sound of Fennec throwing herself onto the back of the crawler rattled through to their compartment.

“That’s our signal,” Boba said. “You ready to jam?”

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

The fuck kind of slang did they use at the covert?

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

---

An hour later, Din sighed with Karren whining under his arm.

��There is a reason he’s not trained yet, Fett,” Din said as Karren started chomping on the bunched-up flightsuit in his elbow.

The Armorer pressed both palms into the forehead of her helmet.

The crawler had perhaps seen better days. But it had also seen worse days, and Fennec was still going through little loops of cackling at the memory of having to chase after its open tailgate. Boba didn’t understand what all the fuss was about. The kid had done amazingly well for his first time at the wheel.

“I’m leaving all of you,” Karren grated out, trying miserably to escape Din’s elbow-prison. “I want to be Mr. Fett’s foundling.”

Bless him.

“You don’t,” Din told him forcefully. “Fett can’t handle a foundling.”

Ay, Boba would drink to that. He was happy to be a foundling-sitter and borrower, though.

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

“You make me tired, child,” the Armorer told him. “Say goodbye to vod.”

“NO.”

Din sighed. The Armorer sighed. Karren, in a beautiful 180, latched onto Din’s ribs again.

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

“I caaaaaaan’t,” Din drawled back at him in a delightfully uncharacteristic tone.

“These people don’t need you. We need you. Shimmol took your bed and if you don’t take it back, she’s gonna keep it.”

Din’s shoulders dropped.

“I told Shimmol that she could take my bunk, Karren,” he said. “I’m not using it—”

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

Boba took it back. He could take on a foundling. Fuck it, why not? This one was great.

“Come here,” Din said, dragging the kid up to his toes. He knocked the front of his helmet against Karren’s forehead with enough force that the bump was noticeable. That made the kid shut up and stand up straight on his own volition again.

“Soon,” Din told him forcefully. “Behave for buir.”

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

“I dunno, kid. I’ve got a husband and all these damn kids to worry about.”

“Bring them. All of them.”

“No room,” Din said without missing a beat. “You have no idea how much space the husband needs to thrive.”

“Well, if you don’t come, then Urro’s gonna try to move in,” Karren snapped.

Din actually paused at that. The Armorer shook her helmet.

“Territorialism becomes neither of you,” she said. “If Urro wishes to join our covert, then we will treat him as we treat any other who wishes to.”

Din’s helmet seemed to squint at her. Karren glared outright.

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

“I will not be shamed into liking him, either,” Din asserted.

“Din,” Karren whined.

“I’ll consider coming home if it means there will be no space for Bojzka,” Din said.

“Carry on with your work and give my best to the jedi and the child,” the Armorer said with an air of dismissal. “Come, Karren. Thank you three for looking after him. Apologies for the vehicle. Come.”

Boba missed that kid already.

--------

Bojzka, Boba had to say, really had no shame and he could almost appreciate that. Either that, or Din’s buir was a catch that the rest of them were failing to appreciate.

“How bad can it be?” the guy mused at Din’s stiff, furious hands mere days after the Armorer and Karren’s departure. “It’s a helmet, right? You can take it off with the people who matter, no?”

“We do not take it off,” Din said from between clenched teeth.

“Right, I got that. But there are exceptions for kids and spouses,” Bojzka said. “Or did I misread that part?”

Din was going to start shaking at any minute now. Bo-Katan assigned Boba the task of making sure he didn’t commit War-hero-homicide while she went off to find a calming device. It was only polite. It wasn’t Bojzka’s fault after all that he’d come in right after a tense meeting with a dissident group from Mandalore itself that made even Bo-Katan’s jaw jump.

“I think the rule is more important than the exceptions here,” Boba pointed out on Din’s behalf. “Joining the Children of the Watch isn’t something to take lightly.”

Din pointed at him wordlessly. Bojzka lazily followed the finger and then pointedly ignored Boba.

“What I’m hearing is that if we marry first, nothing changes,” he said.

Din’s index finger curled in with the rest of his knuckles until it was a fist.

“She is not looking to marry,” he said.

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

“I can repeat things, too. Wanna see? You don’t speak for Nomri, Din.”

Boba was getting the feeling that Ms. Katzkai sort of did let Din speak for her in these types of situations. He was, after all, her oldest. And it sounded like he was the most loyal of her foundlings, too. If she shared anything personal with anyone besides her second in command, then it was going to be Din. That was just how these things worked.

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

“I did,” Bojzka said. “He’s not especially helpful, I have to say. He keeps sending my missives back to me with grammar corrections.”

No. No. Keep it in, Boba. Keep it stoic.

“Eegang is the second CO at the covert,” Din said. “If you won’t take my word for it, then you’ll take his.”

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

“Eegang, the same guy who is allegedly secretly married to his partner? That Eegang?” he asked.

Din balked. Boba felt like electricity had just rocketed through him.

“Eegang is—” Din started.

“Nomri told me about him,” Bojzka said off-handedly. “She seems to think that he’s bitten off more than he can chew with taking on his last kid.”

“Eegang—”

“Something about baby being blind? Funny, did you not think that she trusted me enough to talk about her people?”

Any more of this and steam would start rising from the lip of Din’s helmet.

Thankfully, Bo-Katan returned with the jedi, AKA the calming device. Skywalker even came equipped with Grogu. They both appeared very confused and innocent, what with Skywalker drowning in his formal robes. They looked like they were going to absorb Grogu at any moment.

A+ distraction work, Kryze. Well done making yourself useful.

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

The line pulled taut across Din’s shoulders began to loosen.

“A comrade,” he said sharply in Bojzka’s direction.

“Is he nice?” Skywalker asked. Grogu chirped at him and resumed trying to dig into his multitude of collars.

“Very nice,” Din confirmed, staring deep into Bojzka’s eyes.

“He’s got foundlings, too?” Skywalker asked.

“Two,” Din confirmed. “Who he adores. Regardless of all challenges.”

Ah. It wasn’t just Eegang Din was protective of. It was the baby. Bojzka had really stuck his foot into that one.

“I’m sure the foundlings are fine,” Bojzka said. “It was just Nomri’s concern that—”

“Stop calling her that in my presence,” Din said. “In fact, let’s drop the whole thing now.”

--------

Boba wanted to meet secretly-married Eegang. He sounded like he had a rich interior life. Din gave him a strong look and said that if the Armorer had left the covert, Eegang would not. One of them had to be there at all times.

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

Kryze was now invested. She followed Din around on his heels and suggested that if the Armorer gave words to Eegang to deliver during a formal meeting with the Mand’alor, then Bojzka might finally get the picture that Katzkai wasn’t interested in him.

Din thought about that.

He asked if this was not just a ploy for Boba and Bo-Katan to rally his covert comrades against him.

And it honestly wasn’t until he phrased it like that.

-----------

Eegang was tall, sea-green, and in Bojzka’s face without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Three tests,” he threatened Bojzka with a baby on his hip. “One: stop sending transmissions. Two: get Elder Fayrz to approve your presence. Three: make even one of Goran’s foundlings like you. If you pass all three, your admission will be taken into consideration.”

The baby was very pink with curly hair so pale it was almost white. Its blue-gray eyes moved rapidly back and forth as it cuddled into its buir’s teal armor. Bojzka glanced from it to Eegang’s chipped helmet.

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

“Please give confirmation of your understanding,” Eegang said mechanically.

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

“Alright, alright. Fuck. This is confirmation of my understanding.”

“Excellent. This conversation is over,” Eegang said. “It is your responsibility to contact the elder and earn the approval.”

Bojzka jerked.

“Wait, what?” he said. “How am I supposed to do that if y’all won’t even let me through the door?”

Eegang’s helmet tipped so daintily to the side that Boba could have shed a tear.

“That sounds like a you-problem,” Eegang said.

-----------

Eegang thereafter blocked Bojzka out of his mind and heart. He introduced himself with a dipping motion to Kryze and Boba that probably would have been more dramatic if he’d opted to wear a cape, which he did not. He revealed himself to be exceedingly polite and very fond of Din, though—if the gentle armor tapping and the use of the word ‘little brother’ was anything to go by. Din was usually receptive to gestures like that, Boba had learned, but not this time.

No, no. Din cared not for his ‘big brother.’ He cared only for the attention of Eegang’s baby.

“His name is Mesa,” Eegang explained after Din had kidnapped said baby. He introduced Mesa to Grogu who was stationed nearby, stuffed in the sleepy jedi’s shirt this time. . Grogu waved from Skywalker’s chest, but Mesa didn’t register the motion.

“His grandmother was quite ill, and it was her dying wish to see the child placed into the care of someone trustworthy. I have to admit, though, I may have made the decision a little rashly,” Eegang hummed as he watched Grogu lean as far as he could out of Skywalker’s clothing to try to make contact with his fellow foundling.

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

“No, uh. I’ve got another,” he said. “She’s a huge fan of certain someones.”

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

-------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

-----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

-------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

-----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room. This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

-------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

--------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

--------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

-----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

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

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

--------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

#the mandalorian #the armorer #din djarin #boba fett #dinluke #ficlet #don't mind me I just need answers #and in their absence I make them myself

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kkusuka · 4 years ago

Text

Our little corner of the garden.

based on a request miss Puppy submitted that i was so in love with, i changed it a bit but its mostly of the request lol

the request: Imagine y/n is being forced into an arranged married to better her fathers company but obviously she hates the idea but she loves her dad so she agrees. Oikawa on the other hand refuses to let the love of his life go so with the help of Iwa Oikawa got a suit and crash y/n’s wedding. It was right before the bride had to walk. Y/N standing in her bridal suite wearing her beautiful and expensive wedding dress trying not to pass out when Oikawa walked in “wow, don’t you look gorgeous” “Tooru!? What are you doing here!?” Oikawa explains how much he loves her and he can take care of her and she can live her life free of unfair responsibilities. Oikawa asks y/n to run away with him to Argentina to marry him. Y/n ends up agreeing and they run out of the chapel giggling hand in hand while a cheering Iwa is in the drivers seat of the love birds getaway car and yes please I thought that would be so cute 🥺🥺🥺-✨Puppy🤩

relationship: Oikawa Tooru x reader, slight Atsumu x reader, and iwaizumi hajime is mentioned <3

genre: angst with a happy ending

synopsis: the moment he had lead you into the small corner of the garden your heart was his.

words: 2.4k

notes:i turned it into a royal AU because it adds more flare. i shed more than a few tears while writing this and it has to be my favorite thing I’ve ever published. and that's saying a lot. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3

also may or may not be influenced by speak now by taylor swift

Since you could remember there have been two constants in your life.

The first was a bubbly bright-eyed boy Oikawa Tooru.

You had both met on the eve of your seventh birthday, a day you dreaded. Your mother used any and all family events to invite every prominent family in the kingdom for a night of celebration. A night you couldn't participate in due to your age; an answer to a question that you hated to hear.

In your six-year-old mind, the best way to handle your anger was to run to the garden and hide for as long as you could humanly manage. You flung the most desolate corner and squatted right down, head between your knees.

You sat there for what felt like hours until a small pat on your back had you reeling your head to look at who dared to interrupt your pity-party. No one should know where you went and if they did they should know better than to touch you.

But turning and seeing the warmest brown eyes in the world was not what you had expected. The setting sun behind his tufts of chocolate brown hair made him look like he had a halo. Maybe your nights of prayer had worked, god had sent you an angel.

“Now Missy princess, I ain’t a professional but sittin’ like that can't be nice. ‘Cmon up missy girl!”

You aren't sure if you believed his words or if you were so mesmerized by him that you locked hands and let him pull you up revealing the two-inch difference in your height. A difference that he didn't let go of for the rest of the night.

He brought you to a small crevice in the high-leaved walls of your family's garden, settling you down he told you his name: Oikawa Tooru and that he lived in the servants quarters with his mother.

Along with that, you learned of his interest in catching a real-life alien, by the time the sun had fully settled you could hear your name called from the pathway Oikawa had led you down hours before, they had found you, it was time to go.

Oikawa led you back down the track making you promise to come back the next day to form a plan that no alien could avoid. And so every afternoon into the evening at dinner was spent telling stories and making contraptions that you were sure no alien could averse to.

You couldn't count how many times your childhood rebellion had got you in trouble with your more than disappointed parents. Not even their cliche speeches about being of a high standard and not meddling with peasants were able to deter you from seeing him.

One thing was for certain: Oikawa Tooru became your first friend.

The second constant was the fact you would never be able to have your own future.

You learned this at five years old when your mother began to groom you into the perfect bride she expected you to be. Managing to convince you to finally start taking lessons at age 15 by mentioning how late everything already was.

You liked to pretend the etiquette lessons are just because your mother wanted you to act like a lady. But the back of your mind always reminded you it was because she wanted you to be a great wife. She didn't care if you could hold a teacup properly, she cared if anyone else noticed.

You used your speech classes to strengthen your voice for when Oikawa asked you to sing for him when he wanted to sleep. Not because you needed to make speeches when you are crowned queen. It didn't matter that you were a complimented orator, you cared that in his daily letter to you he complimented how soft your voice was as it lulled him to sleep.

Your favorite was the dance lessons, the same ones where you would run to see Tooru in your secluded corner of the garden and teach him everything you learned. You'd spend hours telling him the ‘proper’ way to place his foot as he laughs at you about how up-tight you sound. Of course, he always listens, continuing to twirl you around with the utmost pristine.

These dances made you think about the ever-growing difference in height the two of you shared, no longer were you two inches taller than the brown-haired boy. Now the small boy you once knew towered over you, and he constantly reminded you of it.

“Aw! y/n you look so tiny from here!” he laughed as he held you from the waist and led you in a waltz that he was making up as the music went on. Emphasizing his point by placing a palm on your head ruffling your hair and once again laughing as your cheeks puffed out.

His voice was no longer high-pitched and no longer cracked when he whined about how annoying your mother was being. His deep voice lingered in your mind as you laid away in your bed after he dropped you off hours before, like a whisper in the night.

Nothing else had changed about him, his eyes were still the warmest and lightest you've ever seen and his hair was still just as soft as it looked. He still smiled like the world was at his feet and he still conspired with you about the aliens that WERE coming.

He was still your Tooru. Your Toru had grown so he could tilt your chin to look him in the eye. Your Tooruthat teased you by whispering improper things during gatherings, the same whispers that send chills down your spine. Your Tooru, whose hands grab your waist and leave ghostly touches on you for weeks, the same hands that envelop you and drag you to the gardens.

Your Tooru that you’ve been in love with since you met in the evening in your garden. The same love you would never indulge.

A love that you have been preparing to lose yet at the same time you would never release.

At 17 you had received the news you had blocked out of your life: your parents had found you a suitable husband. You were sure he was wonderful, but the idea repulsed you.

And it seemed to repulse Tooru even more. He had gone silent the second you came to him teary-eyed, spouting about how you would never be free again. For hours he held your shaking form telling you he would make sure you were happy no matter what.

Beginning the next day Oikawa tried to spend every waking moment by your side, running through the halls, late-night cooking when neither of you could sleep, and even taking your parent's crowns and pretending you were dancing at both of your coronations.

Weeks upon weeks you spent basking in each other's company doing everything to ignore the impending doom you rapidly approached. And finally, your sphere of bliss with Tooru was broken when your first meeting with your future husband was announced.

Atsumu Miya was wonderful. He was handsome and funny, knew how to converse, and your parents seemed to thoroughly enjoy his presence. And he was extremely nice to you, making you feel as if you’d known him your whole life.

But one thing had you entirely consumed the whole visit: Atsumu Miya was not Oikawa Tooru. Not in the slightest.

How was it possible they had the same brown eyes but Tooru’s were so much brighter and they looked at you like you were the entire world. How is it that Atsumu looked at you like everyone else? he didn't make you feel special.

Atsumu’s hair was not the soft brown you were accustomed to, his hair was colored an ugly yellow that you couldn't tell if your opinion was biased or you were beginning to hate the color.

Atsumu’s smile was not the warm, sweet tilt of Tooru’s lips, instead, it was a tight, flirty smirk that unsettled you to the core. Atsumu didn't have the cute tilt of Tooru’s eyes when he smiled.

He was simply not Tooru. And that would simply not do.

Somewhere in your mind, you knew that no one could replace Tooru. You were all his no matter who you were set to marry.

And that fact didn't help when he volunteered to help choose flowers. It was hard to swallow when he chose napkins and helped with the centerpieces. You wanted to scream when he asked if he could cake taste with you. You wanted to run and never come back when he sat and watched you try on the hand-tailored dress for your big day.

You held on to the delusion that you and Tooru were planning your own wedding, not you and another man who would never hold a place in your heart. That you and he were baking a cake that you and he would cut the next day, then go to a beautiful island and live in domestic bliss for the rest of your natural lives, maybe to meet in the next.

The hardest to swallow was the visit to the corner of the garden the night before you give up your freedom. How he pulled you into his embrace asking if the two of you could practice your first dance with Atsumu, “just to practice” he reminds.

“I can't believe you're getting married” he mused while rearranging his hands to the middle of your waist. Rocking you back and forth as you hugged your arms around his back. “Do you remember the first time we came to this spot? You were pouting about your birthday, and me, the amazing Oikawa Tooru, was the only one who could help you.”

He kept you tucked into his chest as he continued to list all of the most important memories the two of you shared in your corner of the garden.

“This really is our corner Tooru.”

“Yeah…. It really is, do you mind if I add another memory to our corner?”

He kissed you right there, holding on to whatever he could of your love.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince.

That fact haunted him since that eve of your seventh birthday. He was the son of a barmaid who gained work doing labor in the castle for food and a place to stay. Not someone whom the crowned princess should associate with.

And the head knight in training thought exactly that, Iwaizumi Hajime was his closest confidant since coming to the country of Aoba, his best friend. And also the grounder of all of Tooru’s ridiculous rambling about spending the rest of his life catching aliens with you.

Oikawa has to give it to him, Iwaizumi did a good job making sure he didn’t do anything too stupid. Unfortunately, he couldn't talk him out of meeting you one last time before he’d probably never see you again.

He held you in his arms one last time, telling you all of his favorite memories he held so dearly, back when you had all the time in the world. Back when the two of you were invincible.

Back to when he wished he just grabbed you and told you everything you made him feel, all the times he just wanted to scream how much he loved you.

He wasn't a prince in the eyes of everyone else, but he didn't need to be when he had you.

Oikawa Tooru was not a prince, but when had that mattered to him anyway?

Before you could fully wake, you were being pulled in a thousand different directions for last-minute dress fittings and checking the venue a final time before being whisked away for someone to do your hair.

You didn't even realize what was happening until you were being once more uprooted and told to wait in a small fitting room. For what felt like hours you waited, thinking about what your new, presumably miserable, life would be like.

The two women helping you in your dress were far more excited than you were, a lump had formed in your throat and if they didn't leave you alone and stop talking about your soon-to-be husband, you were going to be sick.

You looked beautiful, whoever did your hair and makeup did wonderfully. You looked like a bride. Maybe you could get through this if you closed your eyes and pretend it was Tooru and not the blonde who was getting ready across the hall somewhere.

You were given your bouquet and a long veil was placed on your head, it was finally time. No more dancing in the garden or making traps for the pesky aliens. No more Oikawa Tooru.

Somewhere in your thoughts, you missed when the door opened and a hand was placed on your back.

Turning over your shoulder to see the same brown eyes that you have for the past eleven years and the same soft brown hair you've braided and run your hands through. It wasn't the sun but the light in the room as you looked up at him made it look like he had a halo. God really had sent you an angel.

“Now missy, I'm pretty sure you're supposed to be happy on your wedding day.”

You couldn't think of anything but the way he was smiling at you, the same smile he had while leading you down the path all those years ago. The same one who was leading you out of the room to a side exit door,

“And I've been doing some thinking, I can't just let the woman I love go and marry someone else just like that. Especially not to come half-ass wanna be casanova!”

He was lifting the veil off your face, wiping away the flood of tears coming down your cheeks as you brought your hand up to help him with his.

“So, princess y/n l/n, would you follow me to make some more memories?”

“Oh, I'd follow you to the ends of the earth Prince Oikawa Tooru.”

#oikawa tooru #oikawa x reader #oikawa angst #oikawa fluff #oikawa tooru x reader #oikawa tooru x reader angst #oikawa x reader angst #oikawa x reader fluff #atsumu miya #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #iwaizumi hajime #iwaizumi x reader #hq #hq!!#haikyuu angst #haikyuu x reader #oikawa x you

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