#I know I should pick a name for the little heiress but

[softquietsteadylove]

It has 3 parts so please bear with me, tysmia!!!

The Heiress sent some people to turn Thena down for a warning. But what about her having an argument with Thena now? The heiress wants to know what's their real relationship but Thena remained silent about it, she doesn't want the heiress to get the satisfaction of knowing it, she wants her to die out of the curiosity.

Thena was clearly winning this argument but not until...the heiress announced that she and Gil were getting married.

"Little Heiress," Thena greeted, and none too pleasantly, either.

"I have a name."

"I am aware." The Ice Queen was quite aware of every detail surrounding the little heiress, of course. She had done her research. She knew her family's business, she knew their methods, everyone's names and listed addresses--she knew their birthdays. "Are we on a first name business after your little stunt?"

But the young lady barely batted an eyelash. Rather, she fluttered them in a show of coquettishness. "I don't know what you could mean, Miss Thena."

"That's Ice Queen, as far as you are concerned." She kept her voice level, arms folded and lace securely around her shoulders. She had declined to sit, as the heiress had invited her to in front of her desk. "We have business decorum here as well, dear. I suggest you learn the rules before you seek to break them so ambitiously."

Point: Ice Queen

"What is your connection to Gilgamesh?"

Thena bristled, and the girl could see it. She narrowed her eyes at her, "would you like to rephrase your question?"

But the girl leaned forward in her chair. "Not particularly. I asked what your relationship with the Tyrant King is."

"None of your concern, certainly," Thena shot back calmly--easily. The little heiress frowned, sitting back in her chair with a scowl. Yes, that was it; she could wonder all she liked. Everyone could, as far as Thena was concerned. "Business is business."

"Is that what I interrupted?" she leaned forward again, even standing to come closer to Thena's eye level, "a...business meeting?"

Point: Little Heiress

Thena refused her the satisfaction of seeing her squirm again. She held her chin high. "I thought you had no recollection of any such incident?"

Point: Ice Queen

"Or should I find it in my resources to retaliate," she took just a step forward, perhaps a little eager to intimidate the young businesswoman.

"No, Ice Queen," the young woman offered a syrupy sweet smile. "I won't interrupt any of your dates--ah! I mean, of course, meetings, ever again."

Point: Little Heiress

Thena stepped back again, keeping her arms crossed (so her hand wouldn't wander to the knife at her thigh). "I recommend you stay out of any business to which you are not invited, my dear. We have been running this town for a long time, you see. You did hear what happened to Kro?"

Everyone had. It was common knowledge that her singular date for that event had soon met the end of his life, between the hands of the Ice Queen and the Tyrant King himself.

It was the night on which Gilgamesh was supposed to offer a proper date to the little heiress after the premature end to their first meeting. But she had run out on him that time. Thena had certainly thought that would be the end of it at the time.

"Yes," the girl conceded. "And I hear that you were not seen in your end of town for weeks afterward."

"Business requires travel, does it not?" Thena turned, happy to speak with her back to her host. "Perhaps you are long for Korea yourself?"

"Well," she could hear the smile in the little heiress' voice, "speaking of Korea. I will be going back soon."

Not soon enough.

"With Gilgamesh."

Just the faintest hitch in a breath--the slight falter in a step.

Point: Little Heiress. Checkmate.

"We'll be getting married there."

[fantasy-relax]

Donna (dubious consent)

So in full mind Ozzy sign a contract with one of the most powerful houses, the one that have the closest relation to the crown, there is nothing bad that could happen for that. Just stay away from the dimitrescu and do your duty of entertain little rosemary until she is healthy and everything will be fine, really what could go wrong?

The plan is to avoid the dimitrescu like the plague,you stay in the guest room and if happens to enter in a room with them walk away. Is a little lonely, the maids talk to you but they are too busy, the only maid that is free most of the time is Miss Luna, the personal maid of lady Angie.

Only can see her were Angie is, the other maids are very respectful of her and don't try to boss her around even when she is sitting beside you while the little heiress is playing in the garden, understandable after all she is a servant of the Beneviento house, one of higher rank than all of them.

She is very quiet and reserved but refers Lady Angie by her name (how curious, perks of knowing her longer you guess) since the girls first get close to you she always have been like that (for a moment you thought that she was a doll come to life), rarely she talks and when she do it is like a whisper, you don't mind it and always tries to be courteous when talking to her, her face is covered by a veil something that tickle your curiosity but don't ask for respect.

(Donna don't use it when she have to deal with other nobles, this to avoid weaknesses, if she bend even a little bit, Angie will be affected too, so she shows her face and smile that creepy and unnerving smile that people hate so much, but if she doesn't need to deal with them or be in public events she will cover her face, her family let her seeing how tired she is afterwards, using a veil when going undercover with Angie was something logical for her, it help to her ogling of the attractive alpha storyteller that her niece seems to adore)

You pass half of your time with Rose and Angie so technically you pass half of the time with her too (and the knight guard, that stay close to the door but vigilant at your direction), the little girls will draw their favorite characters or scenes of the story and will be arguing softly about how the next part will go, you refuse to take a side.

"hmm, maybe, maybe" is the answer that you give, the girls will go for hours and sometimes you add their rambling just to make them scream when they *connect the dots*(of course the key was under that specific table in that specific area that you totally not forgot)

When that happens you will sit reading, until is time for their lessons and you need to go, Miss Luna will sit too, pick some fabric and start sewing, the situation is very comfortable and calming.

One day the head maid approached to her, you don't were close enough to listen but it was easy to see how tense she became.

"I need to go, be nice Angie"

"Hmm, I'm always nice!, don't take much time!"

"that kind of rhymed lady Angie"

"hahaha I'm amazing right!"

You stay when the teachers don't come for them, food is delivered, the girls insist in giving some to you but are rejected.

Time pass and both of them fall asleep, finally you stand up give a quick bow to the guard and walk away, is dark and the halls are complicated so you get lost, trying to remember were was your room a scent catch your attention (familiar but hard to place) following it make you end in a small room, there sitting in a corner was the personal maid of the Beneviento heiress, clearing your throat to announce your presence, she looks at you scared (or that is what you think the veil make hard to know her expression) but her figure was tense, her scent was sour and her fingers were trembling.

You stepped closer.

"what do you want? "

A warning, a threat of attack.

You stepped back.

"what's the point, you would leave anyway"

A lament, a resignation.

You are divided, should you stay or leave? The quiet sobs break your heart nobody should be alone like this, you advance slowly bending your back trying to look harmless, soft growling echoing in the room still you advance when you are close enough you offer your hand just to end in your back with miss luna sobbing in your chest, her nails hurt you but you sit and carefully put your hands around her.

"I got you, I'm here, you're not alone I'm here, it will be fine."

Minutes or hours pass you don't really know, until she is calm enough to talk.

"sorrry"

"it's okay, do you mind telling me what happened? Maybe I can help you.".

"I already take care of it, I'm Sorry I was being irrational and emotional"

"I told you I don't mind it and I don't think you were irrational."

"you don't even know what happen"

"tell me then"

She stay still in your arms but not make a move to push away.

"... I have a niece"

You nod lightly surprised waiting for her to continue.

"I'm the last of my family so is my duty to care for her, but some.. Distant blood relationships have been... Dissatisfied with my way of rasing her, they want me to give her to them with the excuse of letting me rest and finally search for a mate to have a real family, she is my family!, yes, is stressful and tiring but I will never regret taking the responsibility. They just care about how useful she can be for them, I can't leave her alone, I will never leave her alone"

Is the first time that you hear her talk that much, and the first time that you can feel the anger in her voice or any emotion honestly.

"Then stay with her and tell them to fuck off, I don't know your niece but seeing how you treat Lady Angie I sure that you are doing a excellent job, I mean not to be rude but the little lady is a lot to deal with it and you make it easy I love her but she is a pain sometimes I still remember how she hide my things in the roof! Or when she put salt in my drink! . "

She laughs and you laugh with her mostly surprised this seeing the first time that you hear her laughter (a lot of first are happening tonight).When both of you calm down she talks again.

"Yes she is a rambunctious child but means no harm... Most of the time."

"how comforting, well, children should be like that, carefree and loved, Lady Beneviento should be proud for achieving that"

"... Yes I think she is"

"Ugh"

"are you okay? What - did I hurt you?

"a little, nothing serious"

She was frantic after that, she take you to your room and cleaned the cuts, apologizing every second, you laugh at her worry.

"who would know, you are pretty cute"

"wh-yo-what?

"adorable"

She throw the bandage at your face and practically run away from the room. You were sure she heard your laugh anyway.

The moment that she knows is in love with you:

Rosemary was taken to the palace for a check out with the queen (the fact that she has been whining about how much she missed grandma Mira had nothing to do with it) and the dimitrescu were in the theater, Angie stayed because she can't go with Rose and don't wanted to go to the boring show.

She was going to her house and she was bringing you with her, lady dimitrescu had already given her permission. So thats how you ended in the Beneviento house, it was smaller than the Dimitrescu (and the smallest of the four houses) there was fewer servants too. You were worried about the lady of the house, you hear how protective she was of the only family left she had. So you put your best clothes and review all the lessons about manners that the head maid had teach you.

Lady Angie was very amused at your actions, Miss Luna had gone first to prepare everything but you swear that she was laughing at you when you tell her your worries about lady beneviento hating you.

In the moment that the door opened, the little blonde was running at the arms of the lady of the house that was waiting in the steps, you walked and bowed in front of her.

"A pleasure to meet you, lady beneviento"

She don't say anything and only nod at you before walking inside holding the hand of her niece that's talking about everything she had done with you and Miss Luna while smiling wide at you. You follow them but you can't help but feel like you are part of some inside joke between them.

To your relief things go well even if lady beneviento don't speak to you, Angie was talking for hours while giving you a full history of her house. Later a storm comes so you stay in one of the guest room, you wake up in the middle of the night and go to the kitchen for water, the mansion may be smaller than the dimitrescu but you still get lost.

Trying to make sense of were you are you end sending a wandering Angie to the ground, you apologize but then you notice the tear is her face worried you check on her for an injury until a thunder fall and the poor girl hold your neck, it hits you, she is scared of the storm, you pick her up and she hugs your neck tightly, she may be almost 15 but she is pretty small.

" were is your room?"

"don't leave me, please"

"I not going to"

Is weird seeing the energetic child so quiet if she wasn't trembling you would think that she was sleeping, you open the door and put her in her bed but she don't let go of your arm so you sit beside her trying to keep the distance and be proper, there was no knight guards and you don't wanted to betray that trust.

"did i ever tell you about the girl that trapped the lightning in a bag?"

".. No.. How she could do that?"

"well.."

You tell the story the most dramatic way possible, making sounds and gesturing wildly, the girl is so concentrated on it that she forgets about the storm outside and falls asleep.

Standing up the bed you feel her hand holding your sleeve you put her away gently and in seconds her face become restless, sighing you stand up a grab one chair putting close to the bed you try to accommodate the best that you can, you give up and grab her hand again she relax in a moment, closing your eyes you rest. Neither of you notice the door slightly opened or the shadow in the door watching the interaction.

Donna is trying really hard to not cry, she was so focused in her work that she don't notice the storm, when she finally did it she was in a hurry for Angie knowing well that the poor girl was terrified of them ( she tried to not think about how many nights she stayed alone in her room while her family was dying, far too many is the pitiful answer that her mind gives) she was prepared to deal with a crying girl hiding in a closet or under her bed she doesn't expected to found you in the room making a (great) imitation a pigeon stealing food, she keep quiet not wanting to interrupt you, she was going to enter when you standed but stop when you got back, the tears filled her eyes seeing your actions, you don't leave.

You were in bad position that she knows you will be in a world of pain tomorrow but even so you stayed, again.

She want you. Salvatore and her have been the ones to deal with the courting and marriage proposals, they rejected every single one but they keep coming, people who only wanted power and wealth not love or loyalty.

But you don't want power and you only wanted enough money to live, you had many opportunities to manipulate the girls or try to use them, but you didn't.

Even then you were patient with them you go beyond your duties just to make them happy, playing their games making sure they were comfortable, for the stars! you even helped with their homework! (you weren't the best in that, the girls got better by teaching you, so it worked.. kinda) the way that you treat Angie was enough to give you her trust, she knows how her beloved niece can be but you did your best, sometimes you will forget that she was a noble child, treating her like a rowdy child that need a gentle but firm hand you will scold her about her actions and after that you will give her candies and piggybacks.

And you were so gentle with her, you don't treat her like a idiot when she don't understand something, you explain things to her and in return she will explain things to you, you don't get mad at her for being quiet and only ask her to nod for confirmation or denial, you don't push her, you stayed, you don't leave, you make her feel alive again.

She loves you, she loves you so much. Her siblings and mother will fight her decision but she will no give up, she knows that you at least are attracted to her, she can work with that, she will romance you as Luna and as herself will try to be accessible, let you know her, go slowly and when you get trapped in her web she will never let you go.

BAD THINGS HAPPEN (DUBIOUS CONSENT)

Suddenly you get more convocations at the Beneviento mansion, the lady still don't talk to you but was a perfect host she even give you some clothes! You try to reject it but her stern face (that Angie copy immediately) defeat you, you can't smell her (it's not weird to nobles hide their scent to hide how they feel) Things with Miss luna were improving too she was talking more to you, joking with you, showing sides that you don't know she have it.

"know I understand we're lady Angie learn that mischievous behavior"

A maid was particularly rude to you and the next day all her belongings were in the pond.

"you don't have evidence, Tesoro"

That was something that make you nuts, you know that the four houses have their own secret language created to protect information, besides the family only trusted servants and allies know it. You hear the dimitrescu daughters talking between them in their language a lot of times. But with her you can help but blush hearing the words roll softly in her tongue.

You were down bad, but you know that there was no way that she will accept you as a possible mate, se had a niece to care for and a pretty damn well job, what you could offer? That though plagued your mind.

Then one day your medication is empty, you were in the Beneviento house winter time had come and the snow keep you trapped, you will going to be in rut. You tell Angie that you couldn't play with her for a few days she was dejected but understood she smiled and told you that she will send miss luna with everything you needed, you inform lady beneviento and she just nods.

Then your rut not only starts early is hell, normally it will be a small fever, instinct being a lot sharper, rational thoughts minimized slowly, the desire to be needed, to be praised grows and as a unmated alpha the need of sexual pleasure is there, a partner was preferred but not necessary as things can be dealed alone.That was supposed to happen.

But you had been medicated for so long, you were burning, your mind was foggy, your lust can't be satisfied not matter how many times you try, you wanted, you needed a partner, a omega partner

Donna don't know that, she was worried about you with your reactions she suspected that your rut will come tomorrow, earlier that you thought, it was supposed to be safe. She entered the room with her key, nose and face covered so she is not tempted by your scent, the room is dark anyway but she knows her house like the back of her hand she gets close thinking you were asleep instead a hand grab her throwing her in the bed and your body on top of her.

"Omega"

Her voice die in her throat, she should scream, she should punch you but she stay still, part of her hoping that you snap out it (a darker part is flattered by your desire) she try to talk again but her words are devoured by your mouth

Things go too fast and too slowly at the same time, her veil and mask were discarded by force even so recognition never cross your face. The pheromones are quickly making a mess of her mind too.

'Alpha needs us' ' Alpha want us' 'Let them'

She doesn't want this, don't like this when your mind is gone. She doesn't, she doesn't, she doesn't. (you do, you do, you do, trapped, trapped. )

Even in your feral state you notice her fear, your frantic actions slowed but the urgency is still there. When you prepared her with your fingers she tries to move away but the growls resounding in your chest stopped her.

"good omega"

Her mind is slipping, maybe that is better she doesn't want to feel the guilt and the shame, later it could come later. Now she just wish to pretend that you truly want her, that this is not just the most savage part of you taking was is so close to satisfy it's hunger and need.

Most of it is a blur, really. She feels the pain of you entering and taking what she never thought will give, the pleasure that your touch bring, your frantic voice and moans in her ears, the tears that cover her face, everything was too much, she couldn't think until she feels the bite in her neck and before she can stop herself she bites you too.

Mated and bounded.

She hates herself, she hates, she hates, she hates because she is so happy, now you can't never leave.

When your mind comes back you are in your room, your body feels heavy everything hurts. Miss Luna enters the room and you feel it, the connection.

You stand fast and move her head to see her neck, and take a quick look at the mirror.

Mated and bounded.

Black god above what have you done?

Mated and bounded.

How could you?

Mated and bounded

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry"

Your legs fail, but it seems right to kneel before her.

Mated and bounded

Should you ask for it to be broken?

Mated and bounded

No, it will give her more pain more misery, it could kill her.

Mated and bounded

"you could go with me to the north, across the ocean, I-I will take care of you and your niece"

"What?"

" With the money, I can pay for you ticket too, it will be a opportunity a adventure"

"You were planning to leave us?"

How dare you, how dare you, you can't leave, you can't never leave.

"I-"

One hands go to your neck cutting your words, the other take the veil away. You freeze.

"after what you have done you dare to think you can leave?"

Mated and bounded

You mated and bounded a Noble.

You mated and bounded a High Noble.

You mated and bounded one of the four pillars.

You mated and bounded Lady Donna Beneviento.

There is no way you can escape, did you even deserve it?

"I will take responsibility for my actions, my life is yours to decide"

She kiss you. It taste bittersweet.

"you can't leave, I can't let you."

You are mine, forever.

[moonlit-mystery-writer]

Uni WIP Fic

This fic is based on the Pokemon movie Spell of the Unown! It's centered around Uni and Gamma! And, obviously, this is an AU. Here's a snippet from it!

Uni loves the nights her dad can stay home and play with her until bed. She laughs happily when Gamma picks her up then lays her down in her bed. The blond pets her head softly before kissing her forehead.

“Okay, princess, what story would you like to hear tonight?” He asks warmly, pulling out some of her favorites from her bedside bookshelf-nightstand. The young mafia heiress smiles and takes one of the books from him, holding it up and giggling.

“This one! This one’s about the thing you research, right, Papa?” She asks sweetly, making the lavender-eyed man give a bittersweet smile.

“Mhm, it’s about all the magic and such in this world.”

He explains carefully, glancing at the cursed orange pacifier that hung by a pink ribbon around his baby’s neck. He swears on his life, he’ll find the cure for her…

As the cerulean-haired girl gets herself settled into bed, the Ninth Giglio Nero Lightning guardian opens the book before turning it so she can look at the pictures with him. Some of the pages were just average folklore and tales, things he learned to write off in his research, but others held more truth than one might think from an old book. Namely on things like the Arcobaleno Curse. Part of him had to wonder who the author of this information was… But the name had faded off the cover long ago. He turns the page to a painting with an all violet background with an all white figure standing in the middle of it. The figure seemed masculine in nature with a mess of spiking hair and where his left eye should be was distinctive purple marking. To Gamma, it reminded him of an upside down crown that a kid might draw; three different points that connected with a simple base.

“That’s the angel, right, Papa?” Uni questions, breaking his train of thoughts. The blond nods and chuckles.

“Yep, that’s the Angel of Humanity. No one knows his true name, but we do know he wants peace for all someday. We’ve been trying to find letter pieces that are connected to him.” He warmly explains, watching his daughter nod along with his words. The Lightning was no fool, he knows she doesn’t like how his job keeps taking him away from her, but he’s sure if he can explain at least a little to her that she’ll be more understanding.

The mafia princess cuddles up to her father a little, turning the next page for them. The next two pages had a drawing with a green background and two sets of foxes. One set of foxes are a pale yellow and hold an expression that can be best described as gentle. The other set are a deep black with armor and bright green eyes that held a firmness to them. Uni’s eyes light up and she points at the first set.

“Papa, that’s Colulu and Widget, right??”

“Almost, baby, these are the spirits Colulu and Widget are based on.” He explains, chuckling at how she thought of his box animals right away. 

She nods her little head then points over at the darker set of foxes with a hum, “These ones remind me of you though, Papa. You’re like a fox.”

“Oh, I’m a fox, am I? Then a fox I shall be.” Gamma laughs warmly, tickling his daughter with one hand while mimicking a fox’s yipping sound. The young Sky flame laughs and squirms to get away, but is ultimately just happy to play with her dad. However, their time together is cut short when his computer rings for a call. 

Uni can’t help her frown as her dad gets up. He kisses her forehead again and smiles. 

“I’ll make this quick so we can get back to the book, I promise.” He comforts, making her just blankly nod. 

She knows the other man calling always tends to make the calls with her dad long, even if he doesn’t mean to. As the blond man answers the phone, the voice of his assistant quickly speaks up, “I’m so sorry for calling so late at night, sir!”

“It’s fine, Shoichi, just make this quick. You’re interrupting Uni’s bedtime.”

“Of course, sorry again! But we found them, the angel’s pieces! But we need your expertise to help us verify that they’re the real thing!” The redhead on the other end says quickly, making Gamma perk up instantly. 

“I’ll be over right away-” He starts to say before pausing and looking to his daughter. The young girl couldn’t hide her disappointment in her big, lavender eyes despite her obviously attempting to. He frowns and walks away from his laptop, going back to her and rubbing her cheek tenderly with his thumb.

“Oh Uni… Can Papa go?”

“... It’s important, right?” She asks in a hushed mumble, her eyes tearing up a bit when her dad nods. He pulls her into a tight hug and closes his eyes to stop himself from tearing up too. 

“I swear, princess, if this is real then that means I’ll never have to leave for work ever again…”

“Really?”

“Really, my little one…” He tells her in an almost whisper. The little girl hesitates for a moment, thinking the choice over, before she nods.

“Just… Be back soon, Papa. That’s an order from Giglio Nero Decimo.” She commands as firmly as a little girl can. Gamma can’t stop himself from laughing before snuggling her briefly.

“Of course, princess, here…” He trails off for a moment, slipping off his wedding band and placing it into her hands before continuing, “This is my wedding ring to your Mama, when you miss me while I’m gone, just hold it close and I’ll be right there for you.” He promises. 

The small girl flips the gold ring over in her hands a few times, looking over every detail. Besides a small green gem imbedded in it, on the inside was inscribed “𝚪 & Aria Eternally”. She smiles to herself before hugging her dad again.

“I love you, Papa! Have fun on your trip!”

“I love you too. And thank you, my little kit. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Gamma says sweetly, petting her head before gathering his things and leaving. 

Uni sighs to herself once he’s gone, still a little unsure about letting her dad go. She has this nagging feeling that something will just go wrong that she can’t explain… She looks his ring over again before carefully touching the inscription on it.

“Is this what you felt too, Mama…?” She asks aloud to herself. 

The young Sky didn’t know much about it yet, but she’s heard that the women of her family can see the future. Maybe this is it, just an awful feeling about something… She quietly picks the book her and her dad had just been looking through, glancing at the picture of the foxes again. She stares at the part with the black foxes again before setting the book down next to her in bed and resting the ring on top of it.

“Goodnight, Papa…”

[townsenddecades]

1325 – Day 3 – Crawley Residence

It is an important occasion when the eldest daughter of a house, particularly one without brothers, comes of age. So it is in the Crawley household when Annette turns thirteen years old. She is not yet old enough to be married, but there is no denying that she is slowly turning into a lovely young woman.

Once again, the family gathers in their hall to celebrate – Mary and Matthew, George and Anne, young Theodora and of course Annette herself. Anna can hardly believe how grown-up her little girl has become. She still wishes her other children had lived, that she had given George a son to carry on the Crawley name, but they are both proud of their beautiful girl.

If nothing else, Annette and Theodora, as co-heiresses, will have no difficulty in attracting suitors. Which is precisely the topic Mary starts on when Annette leaves the room for a moment to put away some jewellery that her grandparents have gifted her for her birthday.

“I think Anna should take Annette and Theodora for another visit to Elbenhawke Hall”, she says. “I will write to Caroline to have her invite you.”

“Why?”, George asks. “It is the middle of winter. The roads are unsafe.”

“Because”, Mary says clearly, “the young baron is only a year or so younger than Annette, and she is nearing marriageable age.”

It doesn’t take George – or anyone else in the room, save perhaps for ten-year-old Theodora – long to understand her meaning. Even the frequent visits to the hall she had been urging in recent years make more sense now. Anna had thought she wished merely to foster good family relations with the young baron, but Mary has clearly been aiming for a higher target.

George stares at her. “You don’t mean for Annette for marry him?”, he asks.

“Of course I do. Your sister is his stepmother still. She will be able to influence him once he starts looking for a bride.”

“Mary, we’ve talked about this”, Matthew speaks up. He sounds resigned more than anything else. It makes Anna wonder how often they have talked about this particular idea – it seems to be neither the second nor the third time. And still, he holds firm. “Having our daughter marry into that family is all well and good, but if we put forward our granddaughter as well, the nobility will think us grasping. Particularly given Anna’s…ancestry.”

After almost fifteen years of being married into the Crawley family, the comment doesn’t wound Anna anymore. Because Matthew is right: both Mary and Matthew are, if not noble, at least of gentry ancestry. The granddaughter of a peasant, great-granddaughter of a freed serf, becoming a baroness is nearly inconceivable. Even if Richard Pelham were to fall victim to Annette’s beauty and charm, his peers certainly won’t approve.

“I know how difficult it was for me to be accepted”, she says, to support her father-in-law’s argument. “Even if the marriage came to pass, I don’t want my daughter or my grandchildren to suffer a worse version of what I had to bear with.”

Mary waves that off. “None of you are bold enough.”

“And greed is a sin in the Watcher’s eyes”, Matthew responds drily. “We will have our pick of wealthy merchants, maybe even gentry, for Annette. Is that not enough?”

His wife, fire in her eyes, is just about to respond when a voice rings out from the doorway. “And I am not to be included as you debate my future?”

Annette is standing in the entrance to the hall, eyes blazing. “I assume it is for a reason that you started talking about this only when I had gone. Theodora may hear what your plans for my future are, but I don’t?”

“You are a child”, Mary says flatly. “You will marry whom we tell you to.”

“We weren’t discussing offers, child”, George says, far more conciliatory than his imperious mother, and steps towards their daughter. “Merely ideas. You will have to marry, and we want you to marry as well as you can.”

“I don’t disagree with that”, she says, hotly. “But I believe I deserve to at least hear about it.”

“We will take your wishes into consideration, I promise”, Anna says, shooting a sharp glance at her mother-in-law. George is still Annette’s father, so the decision whom she is to marry and how they are going to go about it is with him. Mary would do well to remember that. “But your father has already told you, your grandmother merely put forward an idea, and we were debating its merit.”

“The merit none of you seem to see”, Mary puts in acidly. “Don’t you want your daughter to be a baroness?”

“I want my daughter to have a comfortable life”, Anna replies. “More, I don’t ask for.”

Prev: 1325, Day 2, Part 3/3 <--> Next: 1325, Day 3, Part 2/2

[kishibedefender]

Kansas City Journal-Post

A short little drabble I wrote for my upcoming SBR Fic: Lessons in Cartography!!

Word Count: 667

Characters: Diego Brando, OC (Isadora Meyers)

NOT A SHIP. I REPEAT. NOT A SHIP.

And crossing the finish line in 39th place, Isadora Meyers!

Isadora swore under her breath and pet Rio’s mane. It had been a nightmare to even get this far, she had lost so much steam during that storm. It had damn near killed her.

She looked back. She had passed Diego hours ago, there was no telling how far behind he had been. But she didn’t want to stop and help him, given their history. No, she would rest up and recuperate. 

First order of business was a letter home. 

After brushing and putting Rio away for the night, she climbed up the steps to the post office with a small smile. Letters home were a big deal for Isadora. She never failed to send one from the cities she was in, save for Colorado, where her family had come to see her on her journey. Arguably her best performance in the entire race, that 6th place finish is something she'd cherish for a long time. 

Looking around at the paper and postage supplies, her eyes caught sight of the local newspaper, announcing the arrival of racers today. It had been an anticlimactic finish, with the racers battered and exhausted from that freak monsoon that had raged through the plains. She couldn’t help but be curious, would the paper report a death toll? Or the rankings?

Someone else entered the small building but she ignored it, opting to pick up the paper and read the front headline. 

Genius Jockey Diego Brando and Mapmaker Heiress Isadora Meyers, the fan-favorite duo of the Steel Ball Run

Isadora threw the paper down onto the wooden floor. 

“That was rude of you,” That accent, and that cocky-ass voice. Isadora turned around to see Diego Brando standing a few feet away from her, looking absolutely haggard. 

“You look like hell, Brando. How far back did the storm knock you?” She asked, picking the paper off the floor and returning it to the stand she had plucked it from, wanting this interaction to end as quickly as it began. 

“Worse than you, be thankful.” He said, and she rolled her eyes, “They think we’re in this together now, you should probably stop talking to me in secluded places.” 

Diego stepped forward with a grin that was a little too wide, and Isadora pulled her red duster to one side, exposing her silver six-shooter. 

“You know what these feel like, I wouldn’t come much closer if I were you," She threatened, and looked over at the postal clerk, who watched on in fear. 

“Let’s take our little chat outside," She said, brushing past the man and out the door. He trailed after her, and the two would eventually settle in a back alley, with Diego sitting on the stoop of a building and Isadora leaning against the wall a few feet away. 

“The "fan-favorite duo". They think we’re a team. Or worse,” She mumbled, and Diego could only roll his own eyes at the thought. It was obvious to competitors that the two would kill each other given the chance, hell Isadora almost had, but the press would do anything for a good story.  And their stories matched.

A poor boy who worked his way from nothing, and a rich girl who had stepped away from her luxurious life, both racing across the country for fame and glory.

“If you get within 100 feet of me Diego Brando, I’ll pump you so full of lead your fossil will be encased in a thin layer of metal.” Isadora crossed her arms, shifting her duster to show the pistol once again. She wasn’t kidding, but Diego wasn’t phased. 

“As if you’d get that close to me in a race. You’ve gotten this far through sheer luck. An amateur trail-rider under her brother’s name, you’re effectively nothing.” Diego said. Isadora’s eyes widened a fraction, but she made no move to retaliate. Instead she turned away, muttering the phrase, ‘Fuck you, you stupid lizard.’

At the end of the alleyway, though, she turned. "Just because my brother idolized you, Brando, doesn't mean I'm gonna respect you. No, I'm gonna beat you. If Rio takes me across that finish line before anyone else," She pointed a red-gloved finger at him, and narrowed her eyes dangerously, "It's gonna be you."

Will this make it into the SBR fic, IDK but this was a lil 15-minute blurb challenge I did and liked it so much I decided to post it!

[wickedfiction81]

Love (Flash Fiction)

Anya Love was a like a character out of a movie only real--an in your face kind of real. To say she was clean was to understate the dirt on a pig as having came from the womb of its mother instead of a pen which was its natural habitat. The botanicals and essence of all perfumes were derived from her skin. The food she ate needed little digestion and she rarely experienced any unexpected instance of flatulence and when she did it was as you might expect--flourishing and delightful. What was to be said was always said to her and never inappropriately because her name was Love and Love knew its place. These were all things one thought of when they were formally introduced to her, that is if you were allowed the privilege of shaking her hand. An heiress of the new world for which she had staked her claim by no initiation other than her belief in herself and the men who who had glorified her, she made her living from the fruits of online advertising, and trading for other things to live the lifestyle she was accustomed to. I met her at massage clinic. I met her during an argument that my girlfriend and I were in the middle of. What about, I don't remember, because in stepped Anya. Anya who didn't introduce herself because she needed no introduction. Anya the brave and the bold who tempered men with facial tatoos to come buckling to her side like all good dogs should. I met her again at a party during which my girlfriend had said something inappropriate, or non-pc, but this was before this type of terminology. As you might expect, and if you didn't you definitely should, she corrected my girlfriend on the proper discourse for the conversation at hand. Again, I can't remember the topic because who could? Not with Love in the room. Love made all memories fade into her. A gift that came with the name I suppose.

Years later, when men were becoming women and women becoming men with no method other than it's invocation, in stepped Ms. Love. She was with out her harem of boys that she usually kept close to her. The location was a pub in the middle of downtown...well we'll keep that part under wraps. For now, let's just say I was hanging out with my buddies in an undisclosed location where we loved to drink beer and eat hamburgers. A hamburger was always a hamburger, that is until Love showed up. The contents of my food soon became a list of toxic chemicals that soon left an uneasy feeling in my stomach. She soon took over the conversation with etiquette and rules of her own making. You know the kind. Bring up a political refuge just so you can create barriers to which reason and logic can't apply. The kind where enforced compassion is the weapon of choice. If you don't know, you should get out more, but that's not the point and excuse me if you have been intoxicated with this Love character and you can't abide by a little criticism. It wasn't my intention. She just--I just--I hate her. So when the moment came, when she picked up my fries and laid waste to my decision to eat hydrogenated coconut oil, I finally lost my cool. With nearly a whole plate of uneaten fries, I fed them to her all at once--plate first--all of the toxicity she'd managed to avoid her whole life by imprecating it on others. I cherished the sounds of her suprise; the rattle of shock that overtook her body and the convulsion of the wrong that she'd never suffered a day in her life.

The trampling came from all sides of me. A fury of enraged bystanders who all saw Love becoming the wilt of her former self, arrived to deliver wounds to my person in order to defend her honor. What they didn't know is that I'd become a woman, but not just any woman. I was the woman whom Love had defended all of her life, the woman who could choose to be as she wished and whoever she believed herself to be. I let go of the diminished man I'd been to her and became the BITCH I was. I screamed so loud that murder could have been the only cause and might have been if any more boots or sneakers had clipped my nostrils where all the blood was gushing. I was injured. Brutally. To which there was no repair. Love knew the kind of hurt now. She was staring at the plate that had struck her in the face only moments ago by a man that had vanished into thin air.

[fair-night-starry-tears]

Don’t fucking think you’re safe, there’s more bitches. Now for Cassim!

Cassim is my oc and i already forgot a bitch name so imma Google it again. And also, more identity crisis role issue

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @the-weirdos-mind @skboba-stars @nproduction626 @rose-tea-and-strawberries @anxious-twisted-vampire

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

After the news of revealed that the maiden of wits Aqila was actually the false maiden. Hence her powers never truly exceeded. Was because she wasn’t one at the first place. Of course, the twin of the girl. The brother. Cassim. A minute younger then his sister. Grunted in frustration. Punching the wall beside him as he screams in anger. A little tantrum you call it. He snarled when he heard a familiar laughter. He turned his neck, facing him.

It was Sa’Luk. The boy guardian. Of course, the man had been training Cassim to follow his steps of wanting more then just treasure. The boy magical gift was like the hand of Midas. Only Cassim was in full control over it. “Young man, you are throwing a little pity party for yourself over this news.” He laughed, as Cassim threw his fist at the taller older male. He was easily apprehended to the wall. “A young boy like you should just behave.” He said.

As Sa’Luk threw the boy aside, he let out a loud sigh. “You’re truly beyond saving Cassim, and it annoys me you have that bastard name….. if only the knight of wits didn’t offer his own father name to you. I wouldn’t be so frustrated!” He shouted. Just like Jafar and the other villains. Most. He wanted the ring of Solomon too. To summon djinns and control sands is a selfish mortal wish. Cassim was still in shock of the revelation. “What….?”

“Did you think I’m shock of the news?” He laughed. “I already knew from the start. Your sister being a false maiden. Of course I knew. I was watching over that rat and his wife. How else I know about your name? Being named after the knight father really is rewarding. But here’s the thing kid…..” he said. “You were a back up knight. Just in case the girl ever denies it. Your father said both my child will have a choice. Whether to serve the new maiden. Or follow their heart.” He said, in a disgusted tone. “But he didn’t admit it. But to you, you were never picked. You would be a back up just in case the girl ever yknow. Died.” He chuckled.

Cassim felt shock, a wave realization hit him. He was never given the knight dagger. Only his sister had gotten it. He wasn’t given a spare or a second dagger. Because the knight only had the one solely given to him by his father. He glared at Sa’Luk. “But down worry. If the girl dies. It just satisfies a few people. The man left the boy alone. Leaving him to question his life. He wants freedom, but. The mere thought of being just a spare in case the other twin deceased…..

Left a bitter taste of rage in life. An unfair life. And unfair role. He strikes his twin resemblance very well. Same height, face, and looks. But their body are differ. The girl is a bit thinner. While he looks a bit more buff like.

‘Maybe….’ He wonder. ‘Just maybe…..’ he thought. ‘….. I should bring the head of the true maiden….. so then….. I won’t be seen as a spare kid ever again….’ As a glint of red shined in his eyes. As he let out a soft giggle.

Evil Cassim arc…. 😄

Sorry not sorry. I got to make Aqila hand over the magic item to the true owner later and reveal Mozeis backstory. Few angsts, drama, and more chaos. How am I not writer burnt? Because I’m a wild card. I dunno what the shit I’m doing with life.

[wonwoonlight]

my way to you / jeon wonwoo | chapter 10

➝ Wonwoo x fem!Reader

➝ rich!AU // heir & heiress!AU // best friends to lovers // idiots to lovers lol // fluff // a lil drama bc why not // somewhat angsty // clicheeeee <3

➝ series warning: OC is Dense with a capital D, so many cliches but idc, implied sexual activities (but no actual smut scenes), eventual suggestive scenes, theyre both idiots, food, insecurity and self doubts, somewhat toxic parents, someone fainted like once, not always proofread am sorry ;-; that’s probably it? tell me if there’s more!

➝ A/N: pls love OC, thank u (✿◠‿◠)

series masterlist

“You’ve been eating, right?” Wonwoo asks from the other side of the line. Your phone pings with notification just then, and you see Soonyoung’s name so you put Wonwoo on speaker to see his message.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say absentmindedly, texting Soonyoung that he could pick you up in the Yoon Holdings’ building just about anytime. “Everyone’s been making sure of that Won, don’t worry. I’m going out to lunch with Soonyoung actually.”

Wonwoo frowns at the name. How close are you becoming with Soonyoung exactly?

It’s been about a week since he last saw you because he needs to fly to L.A for a business conference. There’s still a few days left before he can go home and it’s taking him everything to not return right there and then after finding out Kwon Soonyoung has been constantly instilling his presence in your life.

“Yeah? Has he been taking care of you?”

You wonder if you’re imagining the edge in his voice, but you shrug to yourself and answer honestly. “His schedules match a lot with mine these days. So he’s been taking me to eat with him when no one else is available. Do you remember that katsu place in Hongdae? I went there with him and Chaeyoung yesterday.”

“Really?” He sounds a bit too defensive even to himself and he’s not sure if he should be glad that you’re not saying anything about it. “It’s been some time since we went there, huh?”

“Well you have been busy these days,” you try to sound nonchalant, though it’s clear to Wonwoo that the tone you’re using means you’re somewhat annoyed. “You’re the one who didn’t want to eat lunch with me last week.”

“I told you I already had an appointment that day,” he says patiently, his tone making you feel bad for being petty. “And weren’t you the one who told me not to come because you’re too tired after hanging out with Shua?”

You bite your lip at the reminder. If you’re being truthful, you’re kind of glad that Wonwoo’s away in another country for quite some time. After that talk with Shua, you’ve been considering his words, trying to see if what he says is possible. You don’t think you have it in you to face Wonwoo before you’re able to sort out your mind and his business conference couldn’t have any better timing.

Wonwoo dropped by your place before he left for L.A, just two days after you had that talk with Shua, nagging you to eat and take care of yourself because he’s not going to be able to always remind you due to the time difference and whatnot.

You don’t know if he notices the way you hug him a little tighter when he said he’s going, but it annoys you so much that you notice your heart beating faster when he pulls away to drop a kiss on top of your head, something he always does that didn’t affect you in any way until then.

You blame all this on Joshua Hong.

“–princess? Are you listening to me?”

“Sorry, I zoned out for a bit,” you reason.

It doesn’t matter that a week or so has passed since that day you talked to Shua, because the longer time passes, the more confused you’re becoming.

It doesn’t make sense, you can’t be feeling that way towards your best friend. It’s probably just your childhood insecurity creeping its way back after so long.

All should be fine once Jennie returns to her country. Shua did have a point: you have never really had to see Jennie and Wonwoo for long. But that doesn’t mean you’re jealous of her… right?

“Oh!” you exclaim when you see the door to your office opening, cutting Wonwoo off from whatever he’s going on about. Soonyoung looks at you in confusion, and you hold up a hand to signal him to wait. “Sorry Won, Soonyoung’s here. Talk to you later?”

You hear him mumbling something you can’t quite register, but Wonwoo once again reminds you to take care before eventually hanging up and tells you to say hi to Soonyoung.

“Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asks as you take your purse and phone with you. At your nod, he asks again. “Isn’t it night there?”

“Like 8PM or something. He says hi, by the way,” you shrug. “You haven’t been able to hang out with him, have you? We really should grab a date and hang out together after he returns.”

You look at him in question when the guy chuckles. But Soonyoung shakes his head and ushers you out of the office and starts talking about his day like usual.

It’s almost unbelievable how oblivious you are about the whole thing.

“Before I say anything, are you expecting me to answer or do you simply wish to unload?”

“I don’t know.” You frown, not seeing the way Chaeyoung shakes her head at you. You’re slumped on her sofa at the moment, finally tired of thinking about… that by yourself so you turn to the only close female friend you have: Park Chaeyoung. “Whatever you think is best for me?”

Chaeyoung makes a show of standing up from her single sofa to kneel in front of you, taking your hands in hers and then sends you the best pitiful glance she can muster.

“Yoon, I love you with all my heart, but you are dumb as fuck.”

“Hey!”

“You know you’re just in denial at this point?”

“No, I’m not,” you say, a little too quick to be subtle. Chaeyoung looks at you knowingly and you glare at the girl before you shake her hands off. “No, Chaeng. I am not in love with him. He’s literally my best friend and I’ve known him since we were, like, four.”

“And that matters because?” she looks at you pointedly. “I don’t see why it’s bad. If anything, it’s good because you both already know about each other so well and you’re practically aware of each others’ needs, no?”

“That’d be the case if we’re both in love with each other, okay?” you roll your eyes and cross your arms in defense, looking the other way that you miss Chaeyoung looking at you in shock. Have you really been unaware that Wonwoo has always looked at you like you personally craft all the stars in the sky? “I don’t love him that way and he doesn’t love me that way. You’re just delusional.”

You half expect Chaeyoung to fight more, but she doesn’t say anything and she’s looking at you like you’re delusional, and you honestly can’t grasp what she’s thinking of right now. She can’t possibly think you’re both in love with each other, right?

When Chaeyoung speaks once again, you almost throw the cushion on your lap at her.

“You really are stupid.”

“I did not come here to be verbally abused by you,” you whine, and it’s then that Chaeyoung realizes how utterly helpless you are right now. You’re fidgeting and you’ve been avoiding her eyes, signs that you’re lost and you don’t know what to do, that you’re hoping for help but you know no one can really help you but yourself.

She sighs and sits next to you, feeling bad now that she really looks at how lost you seem to be. Sadly, it’s not really surprising that you’re being this way. You’ve never really exposed yourself to romance, and the few boyfriends that you had were just for fun until the last one ruined it and you swear you don’t want to get into relationships again, casual or not, until you decide otherwise.

But even that particular relationship hadn’t been that deep–Kim Mingyu was simply just too charming for his own good and you thought you’re finally feeling what it’s like to be in love like those fictional characters in movies.

Turns out you were just into the idea of it and Mingyu was in the right place at the right time.

He asked you out when you were so into the concept of romance, having watched one too many romcoms with Chaeyoung for the whole semester during university. He was a senior and he was more than pretty to the eyes. Plus, Chaeyoung had also said he’s got a pretty good record.

So when he asked you out, the only thing that went through your mind was you: why not?

The first three months were great and you had genuinely liked him even though you weren’t together long enough to start loving the guy. But then you found out he didn’t really get along with Wonwoo and who knew he’d become an obsessive jerk that said shit about your best friend behind your back?

So, really, Chaeyoung can only guess why you’re in denial and why you believe your feelings towards Wonwoo can’t be romantic. She can’t absolutely speak on your behalf either, because who knows if your feelings really are not romantic and you’re just threatened that Jennie’s taking your best friend away?

There’s always a chance that everyone’s just collectively delusional.

“How about we go to Exodus tonight?” you suddenly propose, an idea forming in your head. “It’s been some time since I had the time to go clubbing and I can prove to you that I’m not in love with Wonwoo.”

“Excuse me?” she snaps, not getting where the whole thing is coming from. “You do not need to prove anything to me.”

“No. It’s been some time since I got laid anyway,” you shrug nonchalantly, not minding the scandalized look she’s giving you. “You’ll know I’m not into him that way, right?”

Chaeyoung shakes her head, telling you once again that you don’t need to prove anything to her and it’s really not the best idea at the moment.

“Why are you being so weird about this?” you frown. “It’s not like I’ve never had one night stands. It’s just been quite some time.”

She doesn’t know how to tell you that it’s not about that. That she’s simply worried you’re being impulsive and you always end up getting in trouble with your parents—and other parties—when it happens.

Chaeyoung loves you with all her heart, but she’s never been good at being your impulse control and she doesn’t know how to convince you that sleeping with some random person isn’t going to help your problem in any way she can think of.

“I just–”

“I’m going to the club and you can do whatever you want,” you say with finality in your tone.

Chaeyoung looks at you helplessly as she bites her lip; guess she has no choice but to come with you tonight.

Chaeyoung tells you to wait as she parks in the VIP section, determined to not let you go home with anyone as she won’t drink even a sip of alcohol so she can follow you around the whole night. She’s not using the valet service nor even a driver to make a point that you wholefully ignore.

“Where’s your guard, anyway?” Chaeyoung frowns, sitting down next to you when you settle yourself on the stool bar. “I thought Seungcheol’s supposed to be with you at all time?”

“He has the week off. His sister needs to get a surgery and he wants to be there with her.”

“Ah,” she nods understandingly. “I guess Uncle asks you to take one of his guards and you refuse?”

“I told him I’ll take care of his Christmas party in return,” you grin, knowing full well that he’s been desperate for you to organize that personal party of his.

You don’t hate having a guard, even more when it’s Seungcheol because, out of the guards that have been assigned to you, he’s the one that actually respects you as a person when the others usually just consider you a job. But as much as you like Seungcheol and trust him with your life, he’s still there because he’s your father’s man.

It could feel confining even when you’re out in the open at times.

You call for the bartender to prepare your drink, and whilst Chaeyoung doesn’t exactly agree with your order, she lets you be because she knows you kind of need it and hopes the alcohol would help you relax at least for the night.

So far, Chaeyoung has been able to stop you from drinking too much, but her phone won't stop vibrating and she has no choice but to step out for a moment because it’s her mom calling.

She tries her best to convince you to come with her, but you stubbornly stay in place and she eventually gives up and tells you to not go anywhere while she takes the call because her mom has called her twice more while she was trying to convince you.

It’s been quite some time since you got drunk, and perhaps that’s why you get drunk faster than usual. Tonight, you feel more agitated if anything, which only makes you fill your order faster because the night hasn’t been going according to your plan. You literally come here to get laid, but it’s not as easy as it sounds because no one has caught your attention.

It’s not like the people here are not decent. On the contrary, Exodus is a pretty high-profile club owned by Oh Sehun, yet another conglomerate you see in parties from time to time. You even recognize a few people earlier from some business parties Wonwoo has brought you to.

To make it short, this is the club only people like you can enter.

But you guess you’re not drunk enough to just sleep with anyone that catches your eyes because no one seems to be doing that.

That said, perhaps what you need is more drink.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” an awfully familiar voice greets you as you feel someone hovering near your seat.

You turn to find Kim Mingyu in the flesh, rolling your eyes to that flirty tone he’s always used even though it’s been literal years since you last saw him. You hate to admit it, but he looks better than he ever was and it irks you even more that, out of all people, he’s probably the only person who’s piqued your interest in this place.

Did he catch your attention because he’s the only one who spoke to you first or is it because he looks just about a hundred times more attractive than during his university days when he was that lanky guy with faded mint hair?

Whichever it is, Mingyu does not need to know you’re finding him very much pleasing to the eyes right now.

“Do we know each other?” you pretend to play coy, acting like you weren’t just checking him out.

“Ouch, you hurt me, angel,” he chuckles as he places his hand on his heart, mocking heartbreak. “Been some times, huh?”

You’re surprised at the tone. Mingyu doesn’t sound like he’s making small talk and you’re even more surprised when he asks if he can sit beside you. Nevertheless, you entertain him because he feels like a very good distraction at the moment.

“Didn’t know you’re back in Korea. Last I heard you’re in NYC or something.”

“I was only in NYC after graduation, which was… at least six years ago,” he says in amusement.

“Well, that’s the last I’ve heard of you,” you shrug, being truthful about the whole thing. From where else would you hear about him, anyway?

“Forgot how feisty you were,” he smirks as he calls the bartender for a drink. “How many shots have you had? Gotta keep up with you now, don’t I?”

There’s a sudden surge of boldness that runs through you that you’d blame the alcohol for, but you scoot closer to him and prop your elbow on the table, your face resting on your palm as you shoot him a wink and tell him to take a guess.

Something flickers through his eyes at the gesture, and you down another shot just so you won’t back out even though the alarm within you is already screeching–telling you to not get involved with an ex even if it’s just for one night.

“Why are you here tonight, angel?” his voice gets noticeably deeper and you have to hold back a victorious smirk at how easy Mingyu is being right now.

“Why do you think?” you challenge him once again, not moving away when his cold palm finds your knee.

Mingyu experimentally moves further until his hand meets your thigh, looking up at your face to see if you’re against the whole thing or if you’re just playing with him. When you simply arches an eyebrow as if to dare him to do more, Mingyu quickly takes your wrist and pulls you with him to a dimmer part of the club.

It’s not exactly pleasant, but the feelings of his lips against yours as he pushes you to the wall is better than thinking about your feelings towards Wonwoo at the moment. It feels easy, and easy is the only thing that your mind needs right now.

Something within you twists at his name, but you quickly push it away and try to focus on Mingyu's lips instead.

Mingyu growls when he hears you whimper the moment he trails kisses down your neck, his grip on your waist tight as he presses his body against yours.

Honestly, he didn’t expect to end up in this situation when he came up to you earlier. He was just feeling spontaneous when he saw you; so he approached you, hoping to get a good laugh or something–but there was no intention to end up right here, in a dim part of the club making out with you like this isn’t the first time you’ve seen each other since that break up during university.

He knows it’s probably a one time thing, and he couldn’t care less because it’s exactly what he needs anyway. You’ve always been great at teasing, but Mingyu has never thought he was that easy to tease that you didn’t even need five minutes to have him like this.

At least you look like you’re looking for a short lived fun like he is because he knows someone who needs a distraction when he sees one.

“Should we bring this to the hotel?” he whispers between kisses, head already a pile of mush because of the feeling of your lips against his jaw.

Mingyu doesn’t need to be told twice the moment you nod and tell him to take you.

©wonwoonlight – all rights reserved. I don’t allow any reposting, translation, and any other kind of redistribution of this fic. Please tell me if you’re aware of anyone doing this without my permission.

fun fact: Mingyu was Sehun on the first draft ^^

taglist:@hoe4wonwoo@dnylwoo@yslshua@twogyuu@najaemin138 @blueixnie@boowanie@pwettytae@itsveronicaxxx@aphrodyteeth@leechanniee@jeoonghann@sdoulc@kyeomjjigae@ru-lin@listxn @yngreid@vynnz@lilactangerine@justasoftstan@amymoonl@02psh@lovelywoo@pusangmamon@yoontaedotin@soonchanshua@fanfic24@nothingbutadeadesceane@nollixtrml@sweetheart-gs@rjsmochii@dowoonwoodealer

[spiderlilyserendipity]

Practical Skills

Summary: In the world of the wealthy, Kim Namjoon is like a gentleman among piranhas. You’re an heiress desperate to make your marriage date unsuccessful. What happens when you say something the gentleman is not supposed to hear? Part 4 of the No TIme for Love oneshot series.

Genres: smut, fluff

Tags: CEO! Namjoon, rich girl! OC, brat!OC, Dom!Namjoon, sub!OC, consent!!!!!, colour system, small argument, hand kink (OC’s), sir kink, Namjoon’s duality ruining my life, aftercare

Warnings: small age gap, OC is 23, joon is 26, unprotected sex (be safe IRL), light breath play

WC: 3689 (3.7k)

When your parents tell you the newest man they have found for you, you have a good laugh about it. His name is Kim Namjoon, the renowned author and CEO of a famous publishing company. You have heard great things about the man, his reputation even filtering into your college’s rich-kid circle. He’s from a family of professors, a successful gentleman known for his soft spoken nature in the piranha pool that is the chaebol world.

It’s funny to you not because you have anything against the guy, it’s just a funny pair. Ever since you reached “marriageable age” to your parents last year, they have been on your case to try to find a suitable bachelor for you. Of course, marriage in the chaebol world is the equivalent of a business deal. You’re not interested in marriage to start with, but that kind of marriage is one you would never agree to. So here you are, a piranha in training, about to go on a date with a best selling writer known for his romantic philosophies on life.

You already know this date is going to be fun. (Fun for you, of course — your parents will be pulling their hair out later when nothing comes out of it).

In true romantic fashion, Kim Namjoon messages you before the date asking if you would like to stop by a bookstore. You think it’s sweet of him to put in effort for a date both of you know is only for long-term monetary gain.

So to respect Kim Namjoon’s romantic personality (and also because you’ve heard the man is a real treat for the eyes), you decide to play the sweet girl role today. You dress yourself up pretty, in a pink dress with a modest skirt and cutesy accessories, and put your hair in an elegant half-up half-down look.

And from the blush on Kim Namjoon’s face when you meet him, it works like a charm.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Y/L/N. Thank you for making time today.” Namjoon says kindly, shaking your hand. The rumours are all true when they say Kim Namjoon is a real work of art. His hair is pitch black, styled back. He’s tall, he’s polite, and he has a beautiful set of dimples that show when he smiles at you.

But for you, a red flag goes up in your head at the way he’s looking at you. Like he’s taking this whole situation seriously.

You know it will be work getting him off your back, since he’s probably a romantic and all that. But as much of a playgirl as you are, you don’t like to hurt people’s feelings. So instead of trying to annoy him away, you decide to try a new method: emphasizing how much you two wouldn’t work. That should clear any romanticism lingering in his head about this arrangement nicely. You think, praying on this plan to work.

You follow Namjoon inside the bookstore you agreed to meet up at. This place is popular for college age couples, a two-level shop where students can study with a cafe, too. Somehow you think Namjoon did it intentionally due to the 3-year age gap between the two of you.

Namjoon guides you upstairs to a table near a window, giving a nice view of the street below.

“Should we try the food here?” You ask Namjoon sweetly, mostly to buy yourself some time. Namjoon nods, picking up a copy of the menu.

“So I hear you’re attending a very prestigious college, Miss Y/L/N.” Namjoon nervously tries to break the ice.

You smile tightly. As expected, Kim Namjoon has done his research on you. He won’t buy the dumb act like other men do. “Ah, yes. Actually… I must be honest with you. I’m a little unsure about getting married right now since I’m graduating this year.”

Namjoon puts his menu down, his full attention on you. “We don’t need to rush anything at all, Miss Y/L/N. We can take as long as you like to get to know each other. Same thing for if we choose to go forward with marriage, too. Both of my parents are professors, so I totally agree about focusing on education first.”

You fake a laugh. Oh, he’s persistent. “Don’t you think I’m a bit young for you? I mean, it is a three year age gap.” You lie.

Namjoon considers what you’re saying. “Is it uncomfortable for you? Personally I’m okay with it. Like I said, we can always take things slowly and have open discussions about what we like, there’s no rush to figure it all out on the first date.”

You smile and nod, hating how everything he says makes so much sense. You can’t find a single thing to poke a hole in, much less weasel your way out of this situation. But you’ll surely try.

You raise your hand to catch the attention of a waitress. You order a slice of chocolate cake and a cup of tea, and Namjoon orders a cup of coffee and a pastry. You ask Namjoon about his job at the publishing company, buying yourself time to think of a way to make him hate you.

Your eyes slide down to Namjoon’s lips, appreciating how pretty they are. You wish this date was like all the others you have been on, where you could go home with this handsome stranger and call it a night. You watch Namjoon’s hands move through the air as he explains his job, his long and slender fingers decorated with rings and a gold watch on one wrist. He’s steady and mature, and so your mind unintentionally slips away to the things you could do with him if he was just a little… rougher.

Your eyes trail back to his lips, and then up to his eyes. You startle at the sight. Namjoon’s eyes are now narrowed, darker than before. He noticed you looking at his hands. You swallow dryly at the way his tongue creates a small bulge on the inside of his check. “S-Sorry, did you ask me something?” You fluster, accidentally knocking the fork out of your plate. You hiss as chocolate icing smears the front of your new dress.

You grab napkins from the dispenser on the table, trying to dab at them.

“Here, you can borrow mine.” Namjoon stands up, reaching over to pass you the handkerchief from his suit pocket. But the effect is the opposite, since Namjoon accidentally knocks over your cup of tea, too. “Oh no, I’m so sorry!” Namjoon exclaims, getting out of his seat.

You sigh, standing up from the table. “It’s okay, I’ll just fix it in the bathroom.” You tell him, grabbing your phone and walking off before Namjoon can say anything.

You frown as you try to clean the stains with a mere paper towel, not achieving anything. As you’re frustratedly cleaning, your phone rings. It’s a call from your best friend, who knows the renowned Kim Namjoon’s reputation as well as you do.

“Hey,” You answer the phone on speaker since no one else is in the bathroom but you.

“How’s the date going?” Your best friend asks immediately. You sigh as the tea stain and chocolate icing now smear together to make a bigger stain.

You quit cleaning, and decide to wash your hands instead. “He’s actually really nice, but you know how I feel about marriages for wealth. Not to mention, he’s kind of clumsy. He seems like the type to not have any practical skills, you know? Like, he needs a wife to do everything for him. Maybe that’s why he wants to get married so badly, you never know with men and their intentions.”

“Ouch, that’s mean.” Your best friend laughs on the other end.

You laugh with her, grabbing paper towels to wipe your hands. “Yeah, well that’s the truth. But he is hot though, so depending on how the rest of the date goes—”

You bump into someone just outside the door. bumping into someone as you go to put your mirror away. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” You say instantly, looking up.

It’s Namjoon. From the unimpressed look on his face, he heard everything. You feel yourself go pale. “Y/N? What happened?” Your best friend asks.

“I-I’ll call you back.” You say, and hang up quickly. Namjoon looks down at you.

“I’m going to assume our date is over then?” Namjoon asks curtly.

You flush, feeling guilty. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to say—”

“You didn’t mean for me to hear it.” Namjoon corrects you, his patience clearly maxed.

You bite your lip, about to apologize again when a small group of friends come around the corner. Namjoon turns away from you, leaving the small hall. You follow him quietly to the table. You notice the waitress is already waiting there, likely having been called over by Namjoon.

“It’s fine, I can pay.” You say quietly, feeling awful for hurting a nice man’s feelings with your cynicalness. Namjoon ignores you, pulling out his wallet and paying. He looks straight at the waitress and smiles, saying thank you, but doesn’t spare you a second glance.

You’ve never been one to chase a man, but you know when to set your pride aside. You follow Namjoon out of the bookstore and down the flight of steps in front of the building. “Namjoon, please wait--” Your voice is cut off by a cry of pain when you roll your ankle.

An arm wraps around your waist, catching you from falling down the last five or so steps. You look up at Namjoon, grateful but he is still angry, his jaw clenched when he looks at you. “You know,” He whispers. “I was trying to be a gentleman today, but you’re really pushing me.”

You bite your lip and his eyes follow the movement. “Please let me make it up to you.”

Namjoon inhales sharply. “Careful what you ask for, Y/N. I don’t think a girl like you can handle me.”

You chuckle, truly amused at that. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Wanna bet?”

Namjoon’s dark eyes leave you for a split second, pulling you aside when people come out the doors behind you. He takes your hand in his large one, pulling you along like this is something he has always done. You realize where he’s leading you, to the parking lot. “Do you know the colour system?”

You’re shocked. You thought for sure Namjoon was the romantic, wait-till-marriage vanilla sex type. Namjoon chuckles. “Do you?” He asks again.

“Green for go, yellow for slow down, red for stop.” You say in awe. Then, you glance around. “Did you bring a car?”

Namjoon shakes his head. “I had my driver drop me off. But I assume you did, so you can drive.” He smirks, no longer entertaining your bratty act. You can’t lie, the change in attitude is exactly what you’re looking for. If Kim Namjoon was a daydream as a gentleman, he’s a wet dream when he talks like this.

You unlock your car, and Namjoon walks around to the passenger side. When you start the car, Namjoon pulls up the navigation on his phone and puts his address in. You’re utterly shocked at his demands when he holds his phone up to you with a grin. “Let’s go, babe.” He says, a hint of the sweet gentleman returning. But there’s nothing sweet at all about the way his hand comes to hold your exposed thigh as you drive.

You’re really in for it this time.

🖤🖤🖤

Namjoon is a better liar than you expected. He’s all polite when you get out of the car, maintaining a nice distance between the two of you on the walk to the elevator. He bows hello to passing by neighbours and effortlessly dodges the questioning looks about who you are. But once it’s just the two of you in the elevator, he pulls you close again, one hand on your waist. “My title is sir, and yours is baby. How do you feel about punishments?” He asks you, fingers tracing circles on the small of your back.

You shiver. “I-I like punishments.”

Namjoon chuckles. “I had a feeling, but I thought I should check.”

Namjoon brings you inside the luxury apartment with surprisingly less haste than you imagined. He guides you to the living room, full of windows overlooking the city. His apartment is up high, but it’s not the view that takes your breath away. You watch with bated breath as Namjoon takes his suit jacket off and rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt. “Colour.” Namjoon checks again, eyes sultry.

“Green, sir.”

Namjoon pulls you in faster than you expected, the two of you crashing down onto the sofa. He kisses with no hesitation, all tongue and passion that takes your breath away. You can’t even think about trying to dominate this kiss, he’s got you right where he wants you — beneath him. You dig your hands into his hair to make up for not being able to control the kiss, still feeling bratty. Namjoon gets back at you for it by bunching your dress up to your hips and firmly pinning your hips down.

You moan into his mouth, irritated that you can’t grind into him.

Namjoon breaks away from the kiss, sitting up to take his tie off. Namjoon laughs when he catches you eyeing it. “What? Want to get tied up?” Namjoon mocks you, making you blush. He cups your face, a dangerous glint in his eye. “I’ve got different plans for you, brat.”

You gasp as he picks you up into his arms with ease, and you scramble to hold onto him. Your legs wrap around his middle and you wrap your arms around his neck, getting wetter by the second.

Namjoon brings you down the hall into his bedroom, setting you down in the middle of a king-sized bed. He pulls up a chair in front of the bed, making you confused. He sits with his legs spread, looking indifferent. “Touch yourself. If you do a good job, maybe you’ll get my hands on you.”

You whimper at his hot gaze on your spread legs, and the wet patch on your panties. As much as you want to beg him, apologize and ask for a chance to be his good girl, you’re still feeling bratty. You know this is a game you’re bound to lose, but you try anyway.

You sit up on the bed, slowly taking your dress off. You set it aside, and then take your bra off. Namjoon looks amused to see your nipples are already hard, but you take it in stride. You start playing with your breasts, rolling your nipples between your fingers. You stare unashamedly at Namjoon’s hands in his lap, wishing they were his instead.

But when Namjoon’s expression doesn’t change, you start to get desperate.

You whimper. “Sir.”

“What’s that? You need me to do everything for you?” Namjoon mocks.

You pout, making Namjoon come closer. You move your panties to the side, revealing your wet clit. Namjoon looks down at it, his hand hovering close to your hole. You want him to fuck you so badly, but instead, Namjoon just smacks your pussy instead. You whine, making Namjoon smirk. “You didn’t think I was gonna help, did you? You said it yourself, Y/N, I don’t have any ‘practical skills.’”

You bite your lip, silently begging for him to let it go. Namjoon puts his thumb on your bottom lip, making you release it. He runs his thumb over your lip a few times, assessing you. “But if you beg really nicely, I might reconsider.” When you don’t say anything, Namjoon sits back again. “Finger yourself. Stop when I tell you.”

“Yes, sir.” You answer, lifting your hand to your mouth to suck on the digits. Namjoon’s jaw tightens again. You lower your fingers to your hole, inserting two fingers at once. You’re wet enough that they slide in and out with ease.

You pick up speed, already close to coming. “Slow down.” Namjoon orders sharply. You listen, but only with a pout. “Play with your nipples.” He says, and you do. The slow movements drive you insane, making your legs feel weak. You close your eyes, imagining the fingers inside you are Namjoon’s, his big hands touching you everywhere.

You gasp when you feel Namjoon’s real hands come to rest on your waist. They hold you, not tightly but as a firm reminder. His thumbs stroke at your ribcage, sending goosebumps down your abdomen. “Good girl, so obedient.” Namjoon praises in your ear, making you shudder. “Doesn’t that feel good? You like being put in your place, don’t you, sweetheart?”

“N-No, sir.” You retort, but both of you know it’s a lie.

Namjoon withdraws his hands. You watch him through half-lidded eyes, annoyed. “Go faster.” He orders.

You obey, spreading your legs and pumping in and out of yourself. You grind down on the bed, wishing it was Namjoon instead.

Your breathing becomes uneven as your orgasm approaches. Namjoon smacks your ass, forcing you to stop. “Take your fingers out. I want to see how wet you are.” You pout at the order, but do as you’re told. You spread your folds, showing him the glistening interior of your pussy. Your hole is dripping with pre-come, spilling down onto the bed with need.

“S-Sir, I want your fingers. Please, please.” You beg.

Namjoon laughs. “Cute.” He comes closer, planting his hands on your knees. “But I can’t help you, baby. I don’t have any ‘practical skills’, remember?”

“I’m sorry.” You say, so worked up that tears well up in your eyes.

Namjoon stops when he notices the tears in your eyes. “Colour, baby.” He whispers, cupping your face.

You lean into his touch. “Y-Yellow.” You whimper.

Namjoon pulls you into his arms instantly. “What do you need, baby? How do you want me to look after you?” He asks, rubbing your back reassuringly. You sniffle, burying your head in his neck.

“I need your touch, please. Wanna be good.” You cry, emotional from how deep you have sunken into sub space. Sure, like any brat you like being put in your place. But you don’t want your dom to ignore you, you want to be taken care of, too.

Namjoon presses a kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay, baby. I’m not upset. Want me to make you feel good?” He asks, massaging your sides. You nod, holding him tight.

You allow him to lay you down against the pillows, giving you a firm but less dominating kiss. You cup his face, grinding up against him. You moan when you feel his clothed member against your pussy, the material rough against your clit.

Namjoon makes quick work of taking off his clothes, soon as naked as you. You rub your hands up and down his wide back greedily, loving the way his muscles tighten under your touch. You let out small moans as Namjoon kisses along your neck, sliding two fingers inside you at the same time. Namjoon’s fingers stretch you in a way your own could never, making you feel full. “Hh, so big.” You moan, making Namjoon laugh against your skin.

“So greedy, baby.” He comments, fucking his fingers into you harder. When he thinks you’re ready, Namjoon pulls out. You sigh in peace when he aligns his large cock to your entrance. You are grateful for the preparation, but even with how wet you are, it takes a moment for Namjoon to bottom out.

“P-Please move, sir.” You beg, and Namjoon listens. You cry out, tipping your head back in pleasure. Namjoon’s hands find your hips, digging in hard enough that you know you’ll have bruises tomorrow. You want that, you want it all so badly.

Namjoon wraps one arm around your waist, lifting you slightly off the bed as he fucks into you. You moan as his other hand comes to your neck, fingers pressing in just enough to make you lightheaded. You bring both of your hands on top of his, holding them against your neck.

“Who do you belong to?” Namjoon asks, his hips starting to stutter after a few minutes.

“You, you! Ahh, please, sir!”

Namjoon pushes the whole way into you, rubbing your clit expertly to make you come. You come so hard your thighs tremble, but Namjoon is right there to catch you. “Namjoon…” You whisper, breathless from coming.

“I know, baby. You did so good for me.” He praises, kissing you everywhere. You sink into his touch, feeling like you’re floating. “Good girl.”

🖤🖤🖤

You bite your lip. “About the stuff I said earlier, are we cool about that?” You ask Namjoon.

He stops towelling his hair, looking over at you. You blush at his eyes on your body, focusing on wiping the water off so you can get dressed. “Of course.” Namjoon says, giving you an honest smile. Namjoon had helped you shower and peppered you with many kisses after the scene was over. Happy from the care but wanting to do something on your own, you try to dress yourself. Namjoon notices you fumbling with your panties, thighs still shaky as you try to put them on. He gently takes them from you and helps you put them on. Then, he turns you around, helping clasp your bra.

You lean in against his back, savouring his strong arms around you. “I admit I was harsh on you when you were being really sweet, that’s why I had to ask. I go on a lot of these marriage dates, you know.” You tell him.

Namjoon nods, kissing your temple. “Me too.”

You’re surprised at that. You thought Namjoon was the romantic type that would absolutely reject marriage dates. “Really? Why?” You ask, craning your head to look at him.

Namjoon smiles slyly. “To sharpen my ‘practical skills.’”

You scoff, making Namjoon laugh hard and kiss you again.

[mothandpidgeon]

REPUTATION - Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Words: 3615

Rating: T

Warnings: slowest of burns, gender swapped characters, TOUCHING HANDS, no us of y/n

Summary: After scandal damages your reputation, you are finished with society. But a mysterious bachelor by the name of Mr. Djarin has a reputation of his own. And you are determined to keep yourself from getting mixed up with him.

A/N: So after THAT LOOK I know we are all working on our Darcy fics. I feel very intimidated to give it a go when so many talented writers are going to be doing it better but I really haven’t been able to think about anything else.

Also please forgive any historical inaccuracies. I hate those even when they’re on purpose so let’s just agree to ignore them.

And thanks @pascalslittlebrat for taking a look at this and listening to all of my feelings.

MASTERLIST

You used to enjoy going to balls. You used to feel excitement when you got dressed in a fine white gown, your hair set elegantly with little silk flowers. Your heart would race when you would arrive and see all of the gentlemen in their finery. And dancing. There was a time when you could stay on your feet all night, drinking in the attention of all the eligible bachelors.

Those days were long gone. Now you felt a rock in the pit of your stomach the entire time. You counted the moments until you could leave. You couldn’t even bother to put on a pleasant expression, spending entire evenings sullen and taciturn. But at least this was the last ball you had to drag yourself to this season.

You had been forced to spend yet another season in town. This time you had the company of your younger cousin Julia, though her older sister Emma was a difficult chaperone. And tonight you were being hosted by Captain Charles Dune and his wife Lady Georgiana Karga. They threw wonderful parties– at least you had enjoyed them when you enjoyed those things. It was a masquerade ball which meant Julia had picked out a dainty little mask for you to wear. You couldn’t be bothered to choose one yourself but Julia had an eye for this sort of thing. And you liked the creamy white bow that she tied into your hair.

Julia was looking forward to tonight. She was very popular despite being related to you, containing all of the traits a man would want in a wife– good looks, excellent conversational skills, and a talent at the piano forte. She had a number of young men constantly calling on her and her dance card was practically full before she had even gotten into the carriage.

“You look so pretty!” she insisted, though she was probably admiring the work she had done to make you presentable.

Emma was looking forward to being finished with you. She had been married for three years and fancied herself an authority on the subject. She spent much of her time lecturing you on the proper way to comport yourself. Tonight she was just trying to get you to quit sulking.

“Would you at least try to be sociable?” Emma requested with a frown.

“I don’t much see the point,” you huffed. “Do you really believe I’ll get a proposal at the last ball of the season?”

“Lady Georgiana has invited an old friend of the captain’s,” Emma encouraged. “Mr. Djarin. She says he’s quite admirable.”

You rolled your eyes. You both knew you were headed for spinsterhood. Emma had lost her mind if she thought that she was going to pawn you off on some aged, paunchy bachelor.

The ball went exactly as you had expected. You watched Julia dance and laugh. You stood by as Emma talked animatedly when she wasn’t giving you sharp looks. Though there were gentlemen without partners, no one asked you to dance aside from Captain Dune and a few of the unlucky young men he could press into service.

Even now at the end of the season, where so many engagements had been made, you could still feel the eyes on you, the whispers behind hands. It was as if they thought the masks covered their looks of derision. You knew what they were saying, why they snickered and turned away.

It was all because of your broken engagement to Mr. Vanth. There was no returning from a situation like that. You had been cast aside and all of the ton could enjoy surmising the reasons. Your reputation was in shambles.

But it wasn’t the fact that he had gone and married some heiress not two months after he’d given you up that made it all so painful. What had really destroyed you was the fact that you’d let yourself love him. He wasn’t the best choice though he was handsome and had enough income to keep you comfortable. But you had given your heart to him and he had crushed it. And you looked like an utter fool for it.

For some reason, tonight it all stung. You’d learned to drown out the comments and ignore the sideways glances. But here you were, closing yet another season, as single as the day you’d come out. You’d begged your poor mother to let you stay at home in the country so that you wouldn’t have to suffer these indignities. It was pathetic that you had even shown up in London. But she had insisted, had assured you that you were still desirable, still attractive and spirited.

You certainly didn’t feel that way now. You snatched up a glass of wine from a nearby valet and drank it down in nearly a single gulp. It did little to soothe your nerves.

You needed air. You took another glass and sped towards the garden. The noise and music floated out here but the fresh air was cool and the garden looked quite empty, the vacant pathways lit by torches.

You’d once been so much fun. You’d laughed and smiled. You’d had no worries about your future. Now, not only were you a laughing stock but you would be lucky if you could rely on your cousin’s generosity for the rest of your days lest you end up in the poor house.

Tears were welling up in your eyes. You tore the mask off of your face to wipe them away. With your vision clouded and in the dim of the garden, you didn’t see the man that was standing in the shadows until you’d run right into his back.

You’d hit him with enough force to knock you back a few paces but he hardly flinched. He was tall and broad shouldered and he turned to look at you with curiosity. He was alone, thank heavens. He wore a black tailcoat and under that a waist coat that looked like silver and shined like silk. You didn’t recognize him but, of course, he was wearing a mask like all of the other guests. His was rendered in the same silver fabric with a slim slit for his eyes. A scalloped piece of fabric fell from the bottom of the mask down to his chin so you couldn’t see anything of his face other than his dark eyes.

Once you’d regained your balance you began to stutter an apology.

“Forgive me, sir,” you stammered. “I must mind my step.”

The stranger didn’t say anything, he just continued to look you up and down, the torch light reflected in his eyes. His hair was a mess of dark curls. His stature was imposing and incredibly still. You were so shaken that you suddenly realized how you looked, your face stained with tears and eyes glassy. You felt your cheeks burn with even more embarrassment.

Just as you opened your mouth to give some explanation, a voice came from behind you.

“Djarin! There you are!” Captain Dune called out, as jovial as ever.

You did your best to wipe the tears from your cheeks while the masked man turned his attention away.

Captain Dune sauntered down the path with his wife on his elbow. He was a dark haired, stocky man who still looked quite dashing in his dress uniform. He had been a hero of the Nile and served with your father before his ship had been lost. His round face was adorned with a black mask.

“Ah! I see you’ve met the young lady I told you about,” Dune said.

Lady Georgiana’s bright eyes looked between the two of you from under her leather mask. She was a beautiful woman with dark skin and a wide smile. She had always been kind to you even after the disastrous affair with Mr. Vanth.

“My dear, allow me to introduce Mr. Djarin,” Lady Georgiana said. “He is a very good friend.”

Mr. Djarin gave a tight bow when she introduced you but barely murmured a, “How do you do?”

“What are you doing hiding out here, Djarin? The dancing is inside!” Dune teased.

Mr. Djarin gave a chuckle but he didn’t sound amused.

“Why don’t you ask this young lady for a dance? I’m sure she would lower herself to stand up with you,” the captain continued with a wink.

“I’d better not. Please, you’ll have to excuse me. I should retire,” Mr. Djarin said, his voice deep and raspy.

Your eyes fell to the ground and you swallowed hard. You hoped in the darkness of the garden, Lady Georgiana didn’t catch your upset. Clearly Captain Dune had told him everything about you. Why else would this man be so impolite?

“Oh come now. It’s early, yet,” the captain protested.

“Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he bowed and took his leave.

“My dear,” Lady Georgiana tried, “you’ll have to forgive Mr. Djarin. He has lived alone for so long that he sometimes forgets his manners.”

You gave her a smile, clenching your jaw so that you would not cry.

“I just had a splendid idea!” Lady Georgiana exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “You should come stay with us at Nevarro Hall. We leave next week. It would be great fun. I do find that part of the country so diverting.”

“You are too kind but I couldn’t impose,” you said politely. You had a feeling this offer only came because Georgiana felt responsible for her friend’s slight.

“Nonsense! You’re quite right that is a grand idea!” the captain agreed.

It was agreed that Lady Georgiana would write to your mother to inform her of the invitation. You knew she wouldn’t disagree considering how kind the Dunes were and how generous an invitation it was. Once the matter was settled, Captain Dune insisted you return to the party and you reluctantly slunk back inside.

Julia was with a gaggle of some friends when you returned to the ballroom. There was some excitement going on between them.

“Did you see him, Lucy?” one of the girls asked.

“I was introduced,” Lucy squealed. “It is a shame he was not here earlier in the season.”

You realized they were talking about Mr. Djarin and you felt yourself frowning.

“You’re not happy with Mr. Calican?” Julia laughed. Lucy had accepted his proposal just yesterday.

“No, of course!” she scoffed.

“What was he like?” Julia asked.

“I’ve heard he has a fine estate,” Lucy said.

“Oh, he was terribly handsome,” the first girl craned her neck to try and spot Mr. Djarin.

You wanted to laugh. You had also been introduced to Mr. Djarin but there was no way of knowing how handsome he was beneath that mask. You might have even ventured to tell them that but Emma joined the group looking disgruntled.

“I have learned some most unsettling news about Mr. Djarin,” she said. “He is traveling with a child who is in his care.”

“What about that offends you so?” Julia rolled her eyes.

“That is just it, Julia. I am told that this young boy is not merely Mr. Djarin’s ward. He is, in fact, his natural child.” This last part she said in a scandalized whisper.

This raised quite a few eyebrows but you furrowed your own.

“You are told?” You responded. “By whom?”

You knew the rumors that had circulated about yourself and had grown to absolutely despise and distrust gossip.

“I have it on good authority,” Emma said, which meant that some busybody had told her.

You shook your head. You hated that you felt the need to defend Mr. Djarin after he’d been so rude to you. If he had a child out of wedlock, one that he paraded around shamelessly, then what right did he have to rebuff you? You reminded yourself that this was merely hearsay. And no one deserved to be slandered like that.

But when you saw the way the other girls eyed you, you remembered yourself. If you protested too much, it would only speak to your own reputation. So you let them prattle on and as soon as you could slip away, you did, and spent the rest of the evening counting the minutes until you could leave and fall into bed.

After such an excruciating time in town, you were happy to be going anywhere else and, selfishly, you were glad that you didn’t need to spend a long carriage ride hearing Julia go on and on about how much she would miss being in town.

Nevarro Hall was situated on a gorgeous estate in a quiet part of the countryside. Lady Georgiana had given you a well appointed room with a view of the grounds. There was a beautiful garden with a fountain in the middle and, beyond that, a manicured lawn. You could see down to the lake and, past that, the tall trees. You spent a week walking the grounds with Lady Georgiana.

You loved to draw and you could set yourself in some corner of the garden and sketch the flowers for hours on end. It was such a wonderful change from the constant noise and hustle of town– the endless parties and calls, Emma herding you around like a prized cow. When the weather was fair, Lady Georgiana would have tea set outside and she and the captain would ask for a tour through your sketchbook and kindly remark on your talents.

“Perhaps you will create a likeness of the captain, my dear,” Lady Georgiana suggested. “If he will sit still enough for you.”

The captain laughed at that remark as the valet presented him with a letter.

“Very good! It seems Djarin will be joining us tomorrow! His business in town is finished,” he said.

You tried to hide your displeasure. You had no interest in sitting through dinners and excruciating evenings with Mr. Djarin. But you had little choice in the matter. And the captain and Lady Karga had been such generous hosts, you wouldn’t insult them by cutting your visit short.

You decided that you would be as polite as necessary but keep away from him as much as possible. This was wise, you told yourself, because your reputation couldn’t suffer any more difficulties. There were plenty of people that would jump at the chance to make even a passing association with Mr. Djarin into a scandal. But, of course, there was still a part of you that smarted at the way he had dismissed you in your very first encounter. You couldn’t be prevailed upon to be pleasant to a man that was so insulting. And so you would not.

Luckily, the first two days, it was easy to avoid Mr. Djarin entirely. The captain had taken him out riding or shooting or some such activity men enjoyed and they had dined out. Lady Georgiana had become a dear companion to you but she had begun to spend far too much time hinting at how much she liked the new guest. You would merely nod and smile and let your mind wander when she started to tell you how agreeable Mr. Djarin was or how he had been such a kind friend to her father.

On the third day, you had complained of a headache so you could excuse yourself from breakfast. After you had the tea and toast that Lady Georgiana had sent up to your room, you insisted a walk would be good for you and you set out across the grounds with your sketchbook.

You decided the stables were a good place to be left alone. It wasn’t like anyone would be looking for you there and, save the horses, there was nobody there. You found a little wooden chair and sat down to draw the horses and tack.

There was a beautiful black mare with white whiskers around her snout that you were sketching when you heard a noise. It was a funny little squeal. You thought you had imagined it until you heard it again. It had come from the empty horse stall at the very end and when you set down your sketchbook to investigate, you found a little boy sitting in the hay.

“Hello,” you said to him.

He smiled up at you. He looked incredibly sweet with chubby little cheeks. His ears seemed too big for his head and his eyes, too, were big and round. He wore a little brown suit with a delicate ruffle around the neck that was now covered in mud and hay.

“What are you doing in here?” you asked him, though he seemed too small to answer.

He babbled at you and held out something in his hand.

“What’s that?”

The child leaned forward, stretching towards you, and dropped it into your hand. It was a little silver ball that jingled like it had a bell within.

“Thank you,” you chuckled.

You shook it and it made a tinkling sound. He clapped his pudgy hands together, then planted them on the ground, and carefully got to his feet. He continued to yammer on as he tottered towards you, falling on his behind once, but determined to reach you on his own.

“Grogu!” You heard a voice from the path outside that you recognized. “Grogu!”

The boy scampered out of the stable and right up to the boot of Mr. Djarin.

“Where have you been, lad? They’re turning the whole house over looking for you,” he said.

He scooped the little boy up, holding his whole body in the crook of his arm, a wide hand grasping the boy’s calf. Grogu put a dirty hand up to Mr. Djarin’s chin and he laughed softly.

Now that you had the benefit of seeing him without a mask, you realized Mr. Djarin was, indeed, quite handsome. He had full lips and a prominent nose. His skin was a shade of gold that complimented his dark eyes. His starched collar met a square jaw that was dotted with stubble. In the sunlight, you could see that his soft curls and thick sideburns were threaded with grey hairs. The smile that spread over his features was so warm, you wished you could capture it in your sketchbook.

This was the infamous child, then. You saw little resemblance between Mr. Djarin and the lad but he held him so tenderly, it made you wonder if the rumors hadn’t been true.

That’s what you were pondering when the boy turned his attention back to you, pointing with a plump little finger. Mr. Djarin’s whole body stiffened when he saw you, his eyes turning sharp.

“Good morning,” you said with a curtsy.

His jaw clenched and he nodded.

“He was playing,” you tried, tilting your head back towards the stable.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I was drawing the horses,” you explained.

His head tilted just slightly.

“Is that his name? Grogu?” You asked when Mr. Djarin failed to speak.

“Yes,” he said.

You smiled. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Grogu.”

You put out your hand and the lad wrapped his fingers around one of yours.

“Ebba!” he cried.

You laughed. When you glanced at Mr. Djarin he was looking at you with an expression you could only describe as fear. Your smile faltered.

“I take it your business was concluded. In a satisfactory manner, I hope?” you inquired politely.

His brow furrowed momentarily and he opened his mouth and then set Grogu down at his feet.

“Yes. I-” he cleared his throat. “Please, you must forgive me for my behavior at the masquerade. Lady Georgiana said that I offended you. That was not my intention.”

You felt heat in your cheeks once again, embarrassment mixed with anger. You couldn’t believe he had to be told that he had acted like an ass. “Not to worry, sir. My pride has already been damaged so thoroughly, what is but one more slight?”

The look that crossed his face was absolute horror. You would have apologized for speaking so plainly but you frankly didn’t care. What right did he have to judge you? To apologize like you were so pitiful when here he was with his love child. You knew what men like Mr. Djarin were like and you’d learned to keep a wide berth.

“I- I should tell them that I’ve found him,” Mr. Djarin said. “Good day.”

He turned to go back up the path.

“Wait!” you called.

You blushed when you realized how impolite it sounded. Mr. Djarin turned carefully but said nothing. You approached him, painfully aware of the way he stared at you. It was difficult to meet his eye. You swallowed and held out the child’s ball to him. Mr. Djarin put out his hand and you placed it in his palm. As you did, your fingertips brushed his hand and you shivered. His skin felt rough and his palm was so large compared to your own. Your breath caught and, for some reason, you wished he would close his fingers around yours. You quickly withdrew your hand.

The boy reached out for the ball with a coo.

“Much obliged,” Mr Djarin managed. He was still looking at you with intense concentration.

Your chest felt tight.

“I’ll let them know at the house,” you stuttered and after a quick curtsy you were rushing back up the path.

--- Chapter 2

let me know if you'd like to be tagged (or untagged)!

@pascalslittlebrat @starlightmornings @mouthymandalorian @221bshrlocked @danniburgh @pedrocentric @miscellaneousfangirling @blackmarketmummy @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @pedropastelpascal @hiitsmaegen @feelmyroarrrr @raspberrymama @fangirl-316 @mandosmistress @littlebopper96 @originallaura @cheekygeek05 @fairytale07 @casualpalacebagelrascal @miranhas-art @purplepascal042 @sleep-tight1 @tuskens-mando @rebel-soldat

[prince-of-khrysalis]

LOVE UR PIRATES...now let's see the wizards

YESSS TY LETS GOOO (Once again I have a whole lotta wizards and I ramble a lot so I'll just pick a few!! For now.) OKAY!! Let's start with her highness, Persephone Solanaceae! Who is not, in fact, actually royal. But a Marleybonian noble known more for her infamous family name (and the horrible, terrible, fantastical rumors that surround it) rather than her actual title itself as the Heiress.

Growing up in a rather unorthodox setting (A mad scientist father will do that to you), Persephone has always been a bit off. And that is aside from the fact that she’s mean as sin and just awful to be around, as if she wouldn’t spit on you and call you peasant trash for breathing her air. (you may get the feeling you’re not actually the thing she’s so angry and disgusted with, hm!). She’s a necromancer with immense magical skill and knowledge, despite being perhaps one of the most glass glass-cannons to ever live. It surprised everyone when she volunteered to take the place of “The Savior Of The Spiral” after the original was put out of commission (Strange, some think, suspicious, others think), and she became intensely dedicated to this task. Grumpily so. Angrily so. Thinks everyone is annoying, thinks the Spiral should stop trying to die every other week. All in all though she may have an impressively vile personality she... appears to be trying to help. Or maybe she's just trying to avoid going back home to her manor in Marleybone. A prissy little rich thing with too many secrets.

And her (probably future girlfriend) Lilith Vitae! My awful not-so-little theurgist! Persephone and her are... opposites in MOST ways, so they have been petty rivals since childhood. And by petty I mean It's On Sight, they will fight! Lilith comes from a much more humble upbringing and is super, super upset about being a Theurgist, seeing it as too 'soft' for her. Healing is not what she's interested in, she likes fighting! Adrenaline!! Do you remember Morganthe's offer in Zafaris for the YW to join her? Lilith sure does. She was never the savior, even if that was the group she was stuck with for most of her teenage years, hearing THAT put ideas in her head. And she realized huh! That sounds fucking great, actually! Obviously at the time it wasn't an option but, years later? Long after said queen has been disposed of, and Lilith is now free of school and obligation? She thinks maybe SHE'LL go back to Khrysalis, maybe she'll pick up the remnants of Morganthe's army and influence, and maybe. Maybe she'll fill the empty role of queen and finally get to live up to her true potential! So she says! Lilith is highkey deranged and highkey trying to have a villain arc partially because she genuinely WANTS TO, and partially because certain people have led her to believe this is the best path. TLDR she's a punchy-boxer type fighter stuck with life magic and a lot of repression! Is also very gay for Persephone. Aaaand one more to round it out, let's go with Oceania Zenith, resident storm main. So yk it's bad. (sry storm mains.) Ocean was the INITIAL Savior of the Spiral! She had a natural connection and talent to storm magic from a very young age! and this was recognized by the Council of Light rather quickly, who came in to scoop up Ocean as fast as possible to start shaping her into the perfect savior. Well, what good that did! Since Ocean grew up to know so little of how normal kids acted that she was just painfully sheltered. She knew how to duel, how to fight, didn't know what a sleepover was or how to talk to people her own age. And she now has the ego of an Aquilan God and a hero complex to boot. So she became incredibly cocky and full of herself, because I mean, scoff, she's THE Savior. She can do no wrong, perfectly fine to idolize her though<3. She had no friends hah. Except Persephone, because apparently their mean energies were so powerful they attracted each other. (Or because Ocean felt a need to protect the weird little goth girl from the world.) But she's unstoppable really! She swears! Spoilers she is not unstoppable, and her arrogance leads her into a very awful, very super not good time! She's not the Savior anymore.

[super-unpredictable98]

The Unavoidable | Me and Mrs. Jones AU

Pairing: Billy x Saga (Me and Ms. Adolphson’ Verse) Word Count: 2,8 k Warning: Strong language

(Masterlist)

"Should I be worried, S? You left the house twice this month, once for your sister's hen night and once to pick the twins up from school. But even then you were covered from head to toe, Alfie told me people thought you were a child predator," Billy laughed, sitting by his girlfriend on the couch. 

"Welcome home from work, my dear, I missed you too!" Saga laughed nervously.

"Who you runnin' from? Any stalker I should know about?"

"No... It's just... I heard my father is in England," she admitted quietly, and Billy's heart dropped. 

He knew she wasn't embarrassed of him or anything like that, she was more scared of her family than anything else, but it still hurt that she was that terrified of being seen with him. 

Most of the time he felt like a mildly successful guy: he had a good job (it wasn't a five-star hotel restaurant, but still), he had a nice flat, and he could afford to take Saga out and buy nice gifts for her. He was faithful and loving, she seemed happy with him.

"How are we gonna do this at the wedding? Are you gonna tell him or am I just Alfie's friend when I'm there?" He asked hesitantly.

"I- I'm gonna tell him, of course. I don't wanna have to pretend like you're not my boyfriend, I love you!" Saga cried. "Besides, he's not gonna throw a tantrum during Inca's wedding. My brothers will be there too, I think they'll like you, they just want to see me happy."

"You sure? I heard your brothers are quite big, if they don't like me, I'm pretty much fucked."

"No, they are big but they are also really nice."

Billy nodded, trying to believe her. He was usually so great at meeting parents, his natural charm always made them like him, but this time he was the bad boy who stole the girl away from the man her dad chose. That thought had been haunting him ever since they started dating.

"What are their names? Y'never talk about your family," he pointed at the plastic bag on the table with the meal he prepared for her before closing the kitchen. 

"My mum's name is Kajsa, she was a model when she was my age, but now she's a housewife. People say Inca and I look a lot like her, she's the best mom in the world and nothing you say can change my mind. My dad, Ivar, has his own menswear brand he created with my grandpa. He is very strict, but he does what he does because he loves us. He just wants what's best for me."

"Mmmhm I see, I see..." Billy nodded. He absolutely didn't like her father, not after learning that he essentially forced Saga to date Ake despite her protests. Ivar sounded like a huge control freak who treated his kids as property, but for everyone's sake, he was willing to ignore those feelings and be nice to the old man. "And your brothers?"

"Noak is the oldest, he works with my dad and he is very uptight, he always used to tell our parents when I did something wrong. Esbjorn is a lawyer and he loves to read, especially the classics, he's really smart. Then there's Inca, and Goran is the second youngest, he is an athlete, he swims for his college team."

"And then there's you, the little family princess protected by all these people," he chuckled as he watched her happily eat her spaghetti and meatballs. "I'm fucked."

"No, you are not! They will love you just like I do, you are a good man, a great catch, Billy. If my dad or my siblings can't see that, then it sounds like a them problem, I'm not gonna give up my happiness for them anymore."

Billy wasn't so sure they would even give him a chance. An Irish nomad who just settled in England, working as a chef, but at a small pub and with a salary that wouldn't impress anyone. Living in a flat with one chair and who just happened to swoop in and win the heart of a, let's face it, rich Swedish heiress. He loved her to bits, but was that enough for her family?

As the days passed by, he tried to focus on his groomsman duties and work, ignoring his doubts and doing the best he could to hide them from his very perceptive girlfriend. When the day finally came, the nerves were at an all time high, but for a moment everything disappeared:

"You look... Gorgeous, Saga," Billy swallowed when she came out of his room in her long emerald green dress. 

It was quite a simple outfit, Inca would never let the bridesmaids upstage her in any way, but Saga made it look like a masterpiece. Her hair up exposed her long neck and her delicate collar bones, the slit that exposed her beautiful thigh... It all made his heart skip a beat and send blood somewhere else.

"Thank you, sweetie, you look very handsome too," she stepped closer to fix his tie and his hair. "When our wedding happens, you are definitely not wearing gray again."

"We're gettin' married?" He chuckled.

"I would like to one day, wouldn't you?"

"Yeah, of course, I just- we never discussed that. I thought you'd be horrified with commitment after all that happened."

"I am, but not when it comes to you. I want to be with you for as long as I can, being with you is like being home."

"That is so beautiful, darlin'," he smiled, taking in the sight of her so he would never forget it. "And what color would you want me t'wear for our wedding?"

"I don't know, maybe blue, or deep red."

"Sounds good t'me, as long as I'm marryin' you I'll wear a diaper for all I care," he offered his arm for her to hold. "Let's go, Tom is already waitin' downstairs."

—————————————————— 

"I am starting to lose my mind!" Inca cried, pacing from one side of the room to the other.

"Hey, hey, calm down," Saga took her hands while Gemma simply watched awkwardly from the side. Calming the bride was a job for the bridesmaids of course, so they both had to be there. "Look at me, Inca! You are going to be fine."

"What if I'm making a mistake?"

"You won't know until you make it and it's better to make a mistake and fix the mess later than to never try and never know how things could've been."

"Divorce is always an option, don't feel like your life is over," Gemma said, but quickly shut her mouth when Saga glanced at her. "I don't think you're making a mistake."

"You married Jason once and it didn't work, maybe I am!" Inca panted, she was starting to look even paler if that was possible. "This dress is too big, it's suffocating me! I'm needing to change."

"It's okay, you are just anxious, sister! You love this dress because it's too big, it's gonna look amazing in the photos. You'll look perfect, and you are going to be so happy with your husband. I meant what I said that one time, Jason is an idiot, but he is a good person. You are perfect together, there's nothing to worry about."

"Are you sure, Saga? You really think so?"

"I am one hundred percent sure."

"Okay, I'm ready! Go on, I'm going to be preparing for my big entrance."

The two bridesmaids ran into the church and took their places at the altar. Billy gave them a questioning look and Saga gave him a thumbs up, nodding with a smile. Her face changed completely though when she noticed her father sitting on the first row with her mother and brothers. 

It had been a while since they had seen each other. Saga purposefully avoided calling or texting so she could escape the questions about her love life and whenever Ake came up in conversation, she simply made up an excuse to hang up. 

During the ceremony, she allowed herself not to think about that and simply focus on her sister and that big moment. Saga had never been so grateful for Inca being such an attention seeker, who would even look at her when that beautiful bride with that massive fairytale dress was standing right there? 

But there was only so much that could be done to avoid the unavoidable. After the pictures everyone headed to the reception, Billy opened the car door for his girlfriend and once again offered his arm so they could go in together.

"Would you rather walk in alone?" He asked just to make sure.

"No, being with you makes me feel safe."

"Saga! Have you been running from us?" Esbjorn laughed, taking her in his arms and lifting her in the air. "We are all missing you so much."

"I miss you too, I've just been so busy. Work and babysitting for Gemma..." She murmured.

"Hmmm you have your lying voice, Sag," Noak quirked an eyebrow and Billy cleared his throat uncomfortably, none of them seemed to even notice he was there. "Come on, what really happened? Are you being mistreated in England?"

"Mistreated? Look at her!" Goran teased, giving her stomach a squeeze. "She gained some weight, she's been eating well! That's really good, remember how she was always moping around right before moving? Saga is looking much happier!"

"Yes, I see that," her father joined them. "Looking much happier indeed. I missed that smile."

"You look beautiful, baby, so beautiful! Soon you'll be the one standing there in a wedding dress," her mother added. "Speaking of, where is Ake? I thought he moved here to be closer to you."

"Haven't you heard? Ake moved back home actually," Saga chuckled nervously. "It's been a few months, we are... Not together anymore."

"What? He broke up with you?" Noak asked.

"He wouldn't dare..." Ivar muttered.

"No! He didn't, it was mutual. None of us were happy, he didn't want to live here and I didn't really like him anymore," she explained.

"Didn't like him anymore? And since when is that a reason to be breaking up? I found you a great boy!" 

"I'm grown, father, I'm a woman now. Don't you think I have the right to choose who I want to be with?"

"And who could possibly be better than Ake for you, Saga?" Kajsa asked.

"M-my boyfriend," she pointed at him, and he finally approached the family, his legs barely holding him up straight. "His name is William Delaney, but everyone calls him Billy. He's a chef and we are living together most of the time, that's probably why I gained some weight. He is amazing, so smart, hardworking, and kind. He has a heart of gold and makes me really happy."

"Hello, sir," Billy shook Ivar's hand and did the same to each of her brothers before delicately greeting Kajsa. "It's a pleasure to meet you all."

"Why does he talk like that?" Goran asked.

"Because he's Irish," Saga mumbled. "He also just moved to the country recently with his friend Alfie. Alfie is Gemma's son, Gemma was married to Jason, and Jason is now marrying Inca, so he's not just some stranger."

The silence that took over that conversation was deadly. No one dared to speak and Saga's dad still seemed very upset about the end of her relationship with Ake. She knew that would happen, she shouldn't have introduced them at all, maybe just trying to be totally invisible during the wedding would've been better. 

"I see you are meeting the Irish! mammy, pappy, Billy is fantastic!" Inca showed up out of nowhere to save the day. "He is such nice little boy, so funny too. And handsome, of course, they are going to have beautiful babies." 

"Babies?" Saga hissed.

"Are you...?" Esbjorn's eyes grew wide.

"NO! I'm not, no chance at all!" Saga shook her head and Billy quickly followed her lead.

"Yeah, I guess Inca meant after we are married, in a few years," he added.

"You plan to marry our sister?" Noak gave him the most skeptical look. 

"Absolutely, she's the most amazing girl I've ever met and I'd be a complete idiot t'let her go. Especially after I fought so hard t'have her... You know, sir, she really tried t'make things work with Ake. I was foamin' at the mouth with jealousy all the time,  she did the best she could. But I guess in the end love always wins, isn't it?"

"You love this man, Saga?" Ivar asked, Kajsa already melting from how sweet he was and how clear his intentions were.

"I do, more than anything in the world," she took his hand. "And if you still don't like him, please come over tomorrow for dinner, he's the most amazing cook."

"Oh yeah, I'd love t'make somethin' for my future in-laws, whatever you want," Billy offered. "I can even make a typical Swedish dish if you like."

"He's being so nice, Ivar," Kajsa sighed, completely mesmerized. "Wasn't that what we wanted? For her to be happy? Back when you chose Ake she was so sad, don't you remember?"

"She was always crying," Inca added. "And it's the 21st century, forcing your child to be with someone like that is not right."

"I do remember, I thought it was just jitters, I didn't think she was actually unhappy," he scoffed sadly. "Well, if you are really serious about marrying my Saga and not just make her wait around like this bastard Jason did to my Inca... Then you have my blessing."

"You have my word Mr. Adolphson," Billy nodded, trying not to seem too giddy from getting his approval. He could've sworn the night would go a very different way.

"Thank you, pappy," Saga grinned widely. 

"But I will be coming over tomorrow, William," Ivar warned. "If you are not making a good janssons frestelse, I guess you are just not good enough for my daughter. It's her favorite dish, you need to be cooking it."

"I'll do my best, Mr. Adolphson. May I have your next dance, Mrs. Adolphson?" he held out his hand and she took it, blushing slightly.

"Of course, young man."

"Sweet! C'mon Sags, let's get this party started!" Alfie pulled her by the hand to the dance floor, still holding a couple of scotch eggs and munching on them. 

"Maybe we were lucky, pappy," Goran pointed out. "Saga could be dating him."

—————————————————— 

"So that went well!" Billy loosened his tie as they finally arrived at the flat. "Your family is way less scary than I imagined."

"I told you. I knew dad wouldn't react too badly at her wedding. Maybe on any other day he would've beat you up, but we got lucky, didn't we?" Saga kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the sofa.

"Good t'know," he laughed. "You're a good strategist. Now y'just gotta teach me that dish he wants. What is it?"

"Oh, it's very easy, it's like a fish and potato casserole, I can teach you," she pulled him down with her and leaned against his chest, remembering how they danced after everything was settled. How he held her so close, swaying gently to the music and stealing kisses when nobody was looking. 

"I think I can manage," Billy wrapped his arms around her. "Guess now I better start thinkin' about how I'm gonna propose t'you."

"There's still so much time," Saga laughed.

"When the time comes... I need t'plan ahead, I wanna top Jason's confession when he asked your sister to grab his steady horn so he could take her on a magical adventure right after settin' fire to himself."

"Yeah, that'll be very hard to top," she nodded with a giggle. "But I guess you already know what to say. Remember that time? Jason made you pretend like I was Inca and propose to me? You are my perfect person and I see you perfectly."

Her heart raced just thinking about that day, the kiss that came after... She couldn't believe she was actually his girlfriend, that he actually liked her. 

It felt like a dream most of the time when he looked at her with that charming smirk, when he kissed her and it still felt like the first time, chest to chest in the bathroom the first night they met.

"I wanna find new words," Billy explained. "I wanna find a whole new way to surprise you and make you say yes."

"I'm the luckiest girl in the world," she mumbled without even realizing it.

"And I'm the luckiest guy in the world. I'm glad I didn't give up, sometimes I feel like a complete homewrecker, but... When y'look at me like that, it's hard t'feel guilty at all."

[ktheist]

1 | play me like a toy [m]

title inspired by blackpink’s sure thing cover.

⟶ read the last part, all yours to enjoy, here.

muses. mafia heiress!reader x ex-mafia!director!hoseok

genre. age gap factor. chaebol-mafia family au. arranged marriage au. office au. modern au.

words. 5.8k

warnings. contains smut. mentions of gun use. mentions of cheating.

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. 

synopsis. 

sit still, look pretty. 

such were the words your maid-turned-mistress of a mother has ever taught you. the mindless marionette mask worked for the most parts. but when you find yourself hanging by a thread - or is it the beeping line of your dying father’s heart rate monitor? - you decide it’s time to shed off that mask and seek han group’s infamous loyal dog that went off radar 17 years ago.

jung hoseok.

alternatively;

“marry me or be killed.”

“is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

x

jung hoseok is in a dry spell.

there was no doubt as to whether he could score a date, get laid and maybe even have his nightstand to call him up again exactly the week after.

the issue was time.

with his boss and longtime friend getting married, he ends up coming to work with a different pile of papers on his desk every day. well, it was his idea to sign a promissory note that if kim namjoon ever found a woman he loved and married, hoseok would take half of the ceo-ly workload so his overbearing boss could enjoy his honeymoon and truly, as hoseok would put it, live.

the order went a little differently but namjoon found a hole in the way the sentences were worded that got him flying away to the caribbean and leaving hoseok to fend for himself in these trying times.

oh, and it’s almost hit the third month of the newly weds going mia.

in the first place, he didn’t think namjoon would hold the agreement over his head like he was flexing a few hundred thousand dollar’s worth of lawsuit.

but the man did just that and now hoseok is slaving over his nine-to-five which actually tend to drag on till ten or, if he’s lucky, even midnight. sure, he got promoted from head secretary to director but he’s wondering if this endless cycle of coming back home only pass out in the bed and wake up earlier than a parent with a toddler - is worth it.

hoseok groans, his hand grabbing around for his phone to put a stop on that obnoxious alarm even if it’s just for five minutes before he has to hear it again.

and grab something he did, but this so called phone feels too soft to be a phone and shapes like an cup but softer and - he puts more pressure to his grasp out of confusion -

“mhm, what the hell?”

- it complains in a groggy voice too.

almost as if pricked by a needle, hoseok leaps right out of bed, sending the duvet flying to the floor and revealing the naked woman - you - who’s stretching her limbs whilst her face scrunches in displeasure at the rude awakening.

“__-___?! wh-what the- what are you doing in my bed?”

x

“so you touched my boob,” you say, legs crossed and arms folded over said boob.

���i-i-” it’s the first time you’ve ever seen hoseok opened his eyes so wide - he has pretty eyes. especially when they’re brimming with fear and bashfulness, “i’m sorry, i have no excuse.”

he hangs his head low.

“why didn’t you touch the other one?”

it’s then, when hoseok’s eyes snap up to you, gaze searching for a sign - any sign, to confirm that he misheard that, does the man realize that you’re messing with him.

that, and you doubling over with laughter trickling out of your mouth should be affirmation enough.

“god, you should’ve seen your face, hobi!” you’re still holding your stomach when hoseok’s shoulders stiffen and his round eyes turn sharp.

“that’s not something you joke about, ___,” he says, it’s easy to mistake his sternness with anger if you didn’t know him your whole life, “are you gonna let it go every time someone disrespects you? mr. han would’ve snapped their neck in half-”

“hoseok, come on,” you cut him off with a dismissive hand, “none of those gory talks about snapping necks and pulling out nails. that’s the reason i end up here in the first place.”

it’s the way silence lulls into the room and hoseok looks at you with the hardest knitted brows and eyes that seem to have retracted his soul far back into his memories, as though searching for something - that makes your heart drop.

all sense of humor now gone.

“you don’t remember what happened last night... do you?” the last part is just an addition to ease your throbbing heart.

if you’d left it as a statement, it made it more real that he did forget.

just a man, sitting at a half empty bar, three shots of vodka in and hostility in his voice that could’ve killed but so very hoseok of him, “that seat’s taken.”

aloof. distant. and every word in the book that described a man who didn’t want to be bothered and he drowned himself in alcohol.

“i’ll leave once the owner comes back,” you’d slipped into the seat anyway, despite the heat of hoseok’s stare.

not paying any heed, you ordered yourself a margarita.

“it’s been awhile, hasn’t it, hobi?”

that’s when he turned to you. truly looked at you.

“do you perhaps have a little sister who,” his eyebrows began to knit as if the screws in his head started turning, “would be about your age by now... ____?”

you didn’t really catch up. all you could remember was hoseok’s calculative stare as he watched you down one drink after the other. the the chilliness of the margarita somewhat soothing the burning sensation as it went down your throat.

“that’s the fifth for you,” his large hand covered yours, stopping you from picking up the glass as he cautioned you.

“yeah? i’m only stopping if i have something else to occupy my mouth with.”

in his distracted state as he tried to make sense of what your words meant, you lifted the glass to your mouth and downed the last of your drink.

and then, you stood up, walked the tiniest distance between your seat and his, grabbed him by the collar and crashed your lips on his.

you remembered your confidence dissipating like air with every second passing without hoseok so much as responding to your kiss.

maybe it was the shock.

because one that passed, you found his arm around your waist and his lips kissing you harder than you kissed him.

you stumbled into your car, not caring if yeojun had a front row view from the rearview mirror of the things that transpired at the back seat. you barely remember the walk from the parking lot to his apartment.

those sweet whispered promises. the hands that burned your skin with every touch. those eyes that pierced right into your eyes, as if invisible hands reached into your soul and grasped it in his palm.

“mine,” hoseok husked, voice sending ripples of pleasure dripping down your legs. he’d thrust himself balls deep inside you, like a beast who hadn’t had a drop of water since the drought, “you’re mine from head to toe.”

if that wasn’t enough, he fucked you raw until you were at your limit and he’d just... stop.

“hoseok, why-” you’d been breathless, skin glistening with sweat and knees trembling to give in but he’d banded an arm under your torso and held you to him so your bodies remained connected even if none of you moved.

“you think i’d just let you cum so easily?” he placed a hand on your ass, as if warning you what would happen if you’d pull away, “after all these years... you grew up fine as fuck.”

he’d languidly pulled out of you, as if knowing how torturous it felt for you with his fingers on your clit that sent electricity through your veins.

“what is it, hm? is it the kang’s or is it the seong’s? i guess the rumor about boss being hospitalized was true,” his words barely registered in your mind as his index finger touched your back and traced down your spine whilst he started thrusting in and out of you agonizingly slow.

“please, just fuck me,” you’d hissed, pain and pleasure and frustrations mixed in your voice.

“hm, still as tight-lipped as ever, huh?” he’d sounded completely relaxed as if the smacking sound that echoed in the air as his body slammed against your deliciously - didn’t affect him in the slightest.

as if he took no pleasure in fucking you. as if this was only for your poor little soul that came running back to him because you had no one to depend on.

“y-you have to- ah! s-swear your l-loyalty to- oh my god,” it was last night, while the citylights poured through hoseok’s window, his room was directly across another apartment building.

“loyalty, huh?” he tested the words on his mouth, as if it was a foreign candy gifted to him as present.

his body feels hot against your back as he lowered himself flush against you, his breath fanning your sweat-glistened skin, his voice brushing the shell of your ear, “you should know i’m yours as much as you’re mine. nothing i wouldn’t do for you, kiddo.”

he’d used that nickname he’d used to call you as he fucked you into his bed, and sent you moaning his name like you wouldn’t know any other name.

anyone could’ve seen.

neither of you cared though.

well-

you throw your gaze out at the twenty storey building, noticing a man vacuuming the living room three units to the left from the unit directly across from hoseok’s. above him, two kids, a boy and a girl are jumping around while holding an airplane in their hands.

-until now, that is.

hoseok had become an entirely different person last night. no - rather, he’d returned to you as the man you’d always kept in that special spot in your heart and locked it up so no one would be able to see past your steel schooled expression and the devil may care nature.

“i...”

your gaze snaps back to hoseok once again. he parts his lips for the briefest moment, as if to say something but clamps them shut again. the way his eyes gleam with guilt is enough to tell you the unspoken words that hang in the air.

and yet, your heart hardens like the steel mask you often wear on your face.

“and... to think i gave you my virginity too...”

the silence that lapses between you is tangible.

“sike, i’m kidding,” you grin, brows rising to the ceiling but when hoseok doesn’t so much as laugh or frown - he simply looked at you like a parent disappointed of his child who still didn’t see why what she did was wrong - you tilt your head to the side slightly, “or am i?”

“ugh, you’re no fun,” you throw your head back after failing to gouge a reaction from the man who screamed bloody murder as if you’re some street rat that he was so close to calling infestation control.

“i need to meet mr. han,” he announces after a whole solid minute of sitting on the edge of the bed with feet planted on the floor.

“what for? what are you gonna tell daddy? ‘i’m sorry i took your daughter’s virginity, sir, it won’t happen again?’“ you watch him get up, tongue unconsciously slipping out and sweeping over your bottom lip as you watch the curve of his ass as he walks to the closet and disappears into it.

“were you really a virgin?” he comes out dressed in fresh crisp button down tucked in a pair of black pants, a contrast to his rolled up sleeves, creased shirt and disheveled hair from last night.

“i don’t know, did it feel like i was?” you shoot him a coquettish smile.

the gentle protrusion of his adam’s apple bobs up and down, his lingering gaze on your crossed, bare legs not going unnoticed by you. you’re donned in last night’s dinner dress that hugs your curves and stops mid thighs.

but his gaze is gone too soon.

“you’re not seriously going to daddy, are you?” you tug on his sleeve just before he steps out of the door, “hobi, i’m just kidding, i’ve been with multiple guys before you,” the way his brows threaten to knit into a frown doesn’t go pass you but it’s gone too soon, “and does daddy like the idea? he’s not fond of it, but he knows he can’t stop me from doing whatever i want with my own body.”

the beep of the door as he opens it rings in the air as he looks at you in the eye, “did any of those men work for mr han?” 

only silence follows his reply as you bite your lower lip, hesitant.

“we can’t hide this- mr han might already know. he has eyes and ears-” hoseok steps out of the door only to stop dead in track when he sees at least half a dozen men lined up in front of his apartment in black suits.

“good morning, miss ____.” they bow at exactly 90 degrees angle like robots.

“-everywhere...” hoseok trails off, eyes scanning the area on high alert.

“don’t worry, they’re not daddy’s men. they’re my men,” you raise one hand, index finger pointing to the ceiling as you shoot them an expression void of any smile.

they seem to understand that as they dip into a bow again, the leader, yeojun, stops in front of the elevator when he and his men would have joined you in any other circumstances.

“it’s not about saving my own ass, ___,” hoseok begins.

the way his arms cross over his chest makes his sleeves wrap deliciously around his biceps.

his deep brown eyes appear like a hazel storm under the sunlight that pours from every crevice of the parking lot where the elevator stopped at. “mr. han asked me to protect you from everything and i’m sure he hired someone else after i left to keep trash men away from you... and to think i did exactly what he wanted me to protected you from-” 

“hobi,” nimble hands hover over his chest before you gaze up at him through your lashes, making sure to give it a slow, innocent blink before speaking, “i didn’t regret what happened last night. and you trying to apologize for someone i’m not sorry kind of hurts.”

“i’m sorry i didn’t think of it that way...” he trails off, lips pressed in a straight line as though deep in thought.

“if it makes you that uncomfortable, i won’t talk about it but promise me this stays between us, please?” you hold up a pinky finger like you would when you were younger.

the smile that makes its way to hoseok lips causes your heart to palpitate just when it’s barely calmed down.

his pinky finger is much larger than yours as it hooks around yours in a promise, a ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. as if he’s still unsure if he should be making any promises. as if he’s unsure if he should be hooking his pinky with yours instead of pushing you as far away from him as he could. but before he can come to a conclusion, a voice reverberates into the air.

“miss ____.”

the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath rings in your ear as a dozen men in black suits bow at the sight of you.

before another word comes out from anyone else, you speak, voice echoing against the walls.

“listen up you sons of bitches, if i find out any of you snitched to daddy, i’ll make sure your wife, your husband, your kids, your grandparents, hell even your neighbors pay for it. got it?”

a round of rigorous “yes, miss!” follows after the splitting silence that hovered after you finished.

turning around, almost getting lost in those pretty, star entrapped eyes of his, you smile, “see, they’re loyal to me.”

“uh, i can see why.” it’s the humorous tone that finally wraps around hoseok’s words that makes your heart clench painfully.

he’s still the same hoseok you know.

some things never change.

“well, i’ll lend you one of my cars,” you say all of a sudden.

almost as if hit by a foul ball, hoseok’s eyes widen, “shi- what time is it?”

you don’t expect much when you check your phone, the digits on the screen staring back with a 9-something am - you don’t care to check the details, “late.”

“fuck, i was so focused on gathering enough balls to meet mr. han - i need to get the papers i was supposed to look over for today’s meeting,” a string of curses follow hoseok’s scampering retreat. and you simply watch in your spot - he’s always been such a klutz, forgetting the important details and scrambling to get what he’d forgotten and just remembered - done.

before the doors of the elevator close and swallow him in its belly, hoseok’s nimble fingers slip between the shutting gap, making the doors split open again, “oh,” he says, as if remembering something, “you don’t have to do that - i can drive, i got a driver’s license like, eons ago.”

right.

when he left, he was only 18 and had nothing more but a duffle bag filled with all his belongings and an acceptance letter of the university he applied to.

hoseok had been driving you around everywhere before that. he got pulled over by a cop once but your father easily handled that.

jung hoseok’s been with you for as long as you remember.

you recall bawling your eyes out and clinging onto his leg, begging him not to leave because your nanny left and you found out a few months later that her body was found washed up along the river bank near her hometown.

mr. kim, the gardener quit and said he wanted to visit his kids but the whole family ended up dying in a fire.

everyone who left ends up dead.

pushing the somber feeling that’s threatening to pull the muscles in your face into a frown, you shake your head, an amused smirk tugging on your lips as you mask away every other feeling.

“you really don’t remember anything, do you?” somewhere in that innocently clueless gaze of his, you search for a lie - it would’ve been better if he lied about forgetting for whatever reason.

but when the genuinity over pours from those pretty eyes, you push away the gnawing feeling in your heart, “we were both shit faced drunk last night so we came to your place with my driver and you left your car at the bar’s parking lot.”

“oh shit,” he begins punching the button on the inside of the elevator, “i won’t take long, i pro-”

the metal doors gradually shut, cutting off what he was about to say.

x

“p-please, i’m sorry, i’ll do anything...” the man’s words got blurred out as you stare out the window of his medium sized flat with a master bedroom, a room and a bathroom connected to the common area.

it’s been a week since you met hoseok. you want to be mad that he doesn’t call, especially after not seeing each other for so long and finally reuniting only for him to forget everything about that night.

but you didn’t even give him your number and you may or may not be mad that he didn’t think to ask.

a bloodcurdling scream drums against your eardrums, making you physically flinch as your head snaps towards the man lying on the ground with his mouth wide open and no longer any sound coming out.

his head is titled at the new guy who’s standing over him with a baton gripped in one hand. the sight itself makes the pit of your stomach churn.

“god fucking damn it, yeojun,” you shoot a glare at the head bodyguard, “didn’t you teach him rule number 1? make no sound, catch no attention?”

at that, yeojun snaps his fingers and two of the bodyguards closest to the new guy - soon? soobin? was his name? - approach him. one of them places a firm hand on his shoulder whilst he kicks soobin behind his knee, sending him kneeling with a thud.

“i’m sorry, miss ___, it seems soobin,” ah so you did get his name right, “needs to join mr. yoo here in learning a thing or two about obeying orders.”

yeojun doesn’t even flinch when one of your donned-in-black bodyguard strikes one of their own at the back of his head with that baton they usually carry around their waist.

soobin’s face scrunches up painfully as he breathes out through his nose, teeth gritting together.

“you boys, break some things and you, get the car ready,” with that, the bodyguards hovering over the middle-aged borrower and soobin begin scampering around, toppling shelves over, pushing vases to the ground and breaking plates in the kitchen.

“you were too nice,” yeojun murmurs underneath his breath once you’re in the hallway, the sound of glass shattering and furniture breaking still echo off the walls.

“i shouldn’t even be doing this shit anyway. who does he think i am? sending me to take care of small fries...” agitated, you shoot yeojun a glare.

to which he only responds with raised eyebrows, as if asking if you’d go against your brother’s orders just because you’ve never liked to see violence yet violence follows you everywhere.

“let’s see.... richest bachelor, heir to han group, one of the biggest conglomerate family that runs the underground ring...” the black haired man starts counting off with his finger until you swing your purse to his side.

“which side are you on? me or my chanyeol’s?!”

laughter trickles down his lips as he follows you into the elevator. somewhere in the distance, the hallway faintly rings with the fading sound of mr. yoo’s helpless pleas.

x

when you arrive at kimcorp, the secretary shoots up from your seat, her smile is gorgeous and welcoming but the knitted set of brows above her eyes do a poor job of hiding her anxiousness.

odd.

you didn’t use the han name to get past the receptionist, only mentioning “hoseok is expecting me, tell him i have something of his he’d really like back.”

was it the lavish dinner dress? was it the couture handbag?

“ah, it’s the fox fur, isn’t it?” you twirl on your heels, lips curling prettily as you narrow your eyes at the startled secretary.

she’s standing there like a thief caught red-handed. as if her worst nightmares came true the moment you started saying something besides the “i’m here to see jung hoseok.”

“i-i’m sorry, ma’am?” her shoulders tense up and her smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“nothing, it’s nothing,” you put on a billion dollar smile - one that she seems to be struggling to wear.

before the poor thing peed her pants, you turn around, your back on her and push on the double doors of the office with a white plate that spells out “head director jung.”

the syllables of your name roll off the mouth of the man behind the large desk that almost takes up half of the room, piles of documents stacked up on either sides while the middle section is cleared for a mac and a macbook perched directly in front of him.

“you sound surprised, didn’t the receptionist tell you i was coming?” you put on your best smile even as you watch him push a button on a smaller-than-a-palm-sized remote directed at the cctv and dash for the blinds and close them so that the secretaries facing his room won’t have any visual access to what goes on from now on.

“yeji didn’t specify who,” he says mindlessly, still peeking through the blinds - possibly to check if anyone noticed the sudden move.

somehow, hearing the name of another woman leaving hoseok’s lips doesn’t sit right with you.

“since you easily told her to send me right up, i assume you have an idea of who it was,” a devious smile tugs in the corners of your lips as the sound of hoseok sucking in a sharp breath brushes your ears.

as he was in the middle of turning around and facing you, you managed to catch him off guard and trap him between the window and yourself. the ridges of his toned abs brushing against your front torso with only layers of clothing separating you.

the warning tone he uses to say your name with is music to your ears.

he sounded like the old him. the old hoseok who’d drive his fist into anyone’s face without batting an eye. the old hoseok who would turn to your crying frame with the sweetest smile and hand you back your backpack that fell on the ground amidst the struggle of trying to bite and kick your kidnappers in the shin.

“i missed you, you know?” your voice is tinged with playfulness but your heart skips a beat like a schoolgirl with a crush.

“i-i... we...”

the words get stuck in his throat the moment your lips brush his. what surprises you is the softest sigh that leaves his mouth before a large hand buries itself in your hair, pulling you close until he’s tasting you. licking your bottom lip as if asking for something he didn’t need to ask for in the first place.

his free hand grasps your ass as if he’s been dying to feel your soft cheeks in his palm. you part your lips for him, tasting the faintest sense of cigarette in his breath.

hoseok tends to smoke when something bothers.

you hope it’s you. you hope he lays in bed at night, staring at the ceiling. you hope you’re all he thinks about.

by the time you pull apart, you’re both heaving for air. a soft thud drums in your ears as hoseok leans his head against the blinds-covered-window. you press your cheek against his chest, face hot.

one of his hands sits on top of your ass as if paying his overdue respect for your body but yet unwilling to let you go. the other rests on the back of your head, his thumb mindlessly caressing your scalp.

“hoseok?” you’re the first to break the silence.

he simply hums in response, “hm?”

“i can’t give it back,” you turn your cheek to bury your face in his chest, your voice coming out muffled, “i can’t give back your freedom.”

x

“so you’re saying you can’t let me go...” hoseok echoes the words you say to him.

but the way his lips curl into a pleased smirk and his white shirt creasing at the front from having your bodies pressed together a moment ago, gives those words a different meaning than you intend them to.

somehow, the distance between you seems smaller.

“thanks miyeon,” hoseok’s smile switches to that of a kind, considerate superior.

miyeon, the woman who guided you to hoseok’s office returns his smile. but you don’t miss the cautious gaze she throws your way before slipping out of the room after setting down the tea cups.

he’s back to himself. the kind that jumps at every little sound and tends to wear a frightened puppy look almost too often.

“no, rather...” you trail off, chanyeol’s face burning at the back of your mind - your brother, the heir to han group and the man that will marry you off to the kang’s in order to mend the strain in the family ties as soon as your father breathes out his last breath.

you shake your head, a smile on your face, “it’s been awhile, how bout catching up over lunch?”

and so it goes, you visit hoseok every few days in a week. at times you tell the secretary to keep your visit a secret so you could surprise him, you’d end up catching him neck deep in work yet he still manages to pull off the rolled up sleeves, two buttons undone and slicked back hair with a single strand falling over his forehead, its tip grazing those set of strong eyebrows.

when you knock, he looks up and the tension in his brows seem to fade away. he shoots you a dimpled smile as if he’s been waiting for you to whisk him away from work.

and you do just that. arm looped around his, you both walk out of his office like lovers.

hoseok talks about his past - the one you’re not part of - fondly. as if looking through a lense of something he never dreamed he could have.

at first, he attracted the wrong kind of crowd with his permanently set furrowed brows. but then he finds things he enjoys doing outside of classes that he couldn’t get to enjoy when he was with han group.

dancing, tracks, boxing and more. he likes that rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins. 

and you tell him about the meetings and gatherings and social events to maintain your relationships with the vassal families. they’re usually attended by the women of the han family which means you and han chohee would be smiling and laughing together in front of the wives and daughters of the vassal families before taking off that loving step-mother-and-step-daughter facade once you walk out of the vicinity.

your lunches and dinners are spent with trips down memory lane, filling the other in on the moments each of you miss in each other’s lives. and for a moment, the hoseok in front of you who flinches at the sight of bugs and little, random noises feel familiar.

that is, until you hit your one month reunion mark.

chanyeol’s been gathering support of the vassals by personally accepting their invitations.

his presence easily overshadowed yours and yeojun confirmed that your father’s condition isn’t getting any better.

“i need you to come back and work for me, half of the men would drop everything and follow you,” you stare at the girl staring back at you on the surface of the tea. she bites her lips and you feel the faintest taste of blood in your mouth.

eyes snapping to his calculative ones - as if he already knows what you’re going to say before the words even pass your lips, “i need you by my side so i can take over han group.”

the hoseok sitting in the single couch next to you with parted legs and feet planted on the dark carpeted ground fits the head director setting better than the inked skin, cigarette smoke and gun-in-waistline setting you’re about to drag him in.

“you’re willing to go against chanyeol to become the head of the family?” he asks, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

hoseok’s always been an enigma. his mind, a maze you’ll never end up figuring out.

guess that part of him is still the same.

“it’s not a choice for me to make,” a clean click! resonates in the air as you place the gun you’d pulled from your garter, point facing him, index finger on the trigger, “you have two though.”

it’s the way his eyebrows rise whilst his eyes glint with amusement tells you that hoseok - your hoseok - is still somewhere in there.

throw a sane man into an asylum and he’ll start going insane. put a mad man  back in society and he’ll trick you into believing he’s sane with his warm, dimpled smile.

“marry me or be killed,” you say simply.

that amused glint is still there, granted, it shines faintly compared to the caution that overflows from those sun-hit brown eyes as they fix themselves on the gun perched on the see-through coffee table before they travel to your knuckles, to your arm and meet your steel gaze.

his the softest protrusion of his adam’s apple drops and rises again as he swallows, “is there a third option?”

“we fucked but you were too drunk to remember so that option’s invalid.”

the air is dense with tension. it fills up your lungs and almost causes your chest to cave. you’re not sure how long to stay there, stiff and still like a rock with your back straightened as if your etiquette teacher was hovering right behind you with a long, wooden ruler that’d be ready to strike your arm at a slump of your shoulders.

but liberation comes to you in the form of a phone call.

“___, we have to go, th-the boss- the doctor says he’s not gonna make it through the night.” it’s the first time you’ve heard yeojun stammer as if he hasn’t quite yet recovered from the shock of the news he’s relaying to you.

“are you sure?” you can almost hear the thump of the organ in your chest slowing down before it ceases to throb completely, “you know how bad chanyeol wanna fuck me up, he could’ve made the doctor tell you this because he knows you’ll tell me and if... if i rush there and daddy’s laughing that obnoxious laugh while trying to make pass on the nurse like he usually does...”

yeojun grunts, “yes, ___. i have men planted there as patients, nurses, janitors and they all say the same thing - that the doctors are rushing to the vip ward and they’re trying to make it look like your usual hourly check up but it’s not... look, this is the real thing. if we mess up, there won’t be another chance. now, did you convince hoseok to come back?”

almost as if reminded that you’re not the only person in the room, your eyes snap to hoseok whose eyes are already fixed on you with a concerned expression.

“he’ll come back.” with that, you hang up the call.

“i’d love for you to think it through for a few days, realize this isn’t really a life you want and come to me on your own to sign our prenups,” you say casually, placing down the teacup and slipping your phone back into your handbag as if you’re getting ready to leave the tea party, “but...”

but before you can lift the gun and fully point it at him, a large hand covers yours. his warmth seeps through your pores and makes your body feel warmer.

“the gun’s a bit excessive,” his breath fans your face as your eyes fix on the supple skin of his neck.

it’s as if invisible hands reached out and held your head in place, forbidding you from tilting it and gazing into his eyes. his fingers reach over the back of the gun, grazing your hands.

a click cuts through the silence.

“at the very least, unlock the safety,” his teasing tone doesn’t match his saddened eyes.

and just as you thought you’d closed the distance between you and him, the circumstance forces you to take five steps back.

[newtonsheffield]

Hi, I was wondering you could write something about the Bridgerton spouses and them all spending the day together and the Bridgerton siblings wondering where they have gone.

Hello! Hello Hello! 

My god you have been waiting on this for just the longest time, and I am just so sorry! I have no excuse beyond: I am terribly disorganised and unfortunately sometimes I have to deal with my real life. 

So anyway! On with the show! This isn’t exactly what you asked for and I’m combining it with another request, again, terrible! So sorry! 

Anon asked: I love your little headcanon about the Bridgerton wives and their wine night. Do you have sth similar for the Bridgerton husbands too? The Bridgerton Wives Club is truly my legacy at this stage aaaaaaand I couldn’t be prouder of it. 

@esoterrifica was also a little interested in this concept 

And So, without further Ado, it is my greatest pleasure to introduce to you all The Bridgerton Wives Club and their sister Association  (If You’ve somehow missed my post about the BWC here it is here 

“And just where’s my shirt, Katie cat?” Michael Stirling had said nodding in the direction of the remainder of Frankie’s sister in laws wearing their infamous Bridgerton Wives Club shirts, gathered around the table that had been dragged into Violet Bridgerton’s back lawn. Kate raised her eyebrows and said nothing. 

“I’m a Bridgerton wife now as well, I think it’s only fair, don’t you?” He said, a charming grin on his face, Kate laughed brightly.  “I’m afraid, Michael, unless you want to get drunk and discuss breast feeding techniques with us you’re quite on your own.” Michael huffed a little indignantly at the exclusion. as Kate continued  “Besides, Simon was the first of you, he was never invited to wine and Whine night and he’s never minded, Have you Simon?” She called out as she passed. Simon looked up a little surprised, Amelia sitting on his shoulders waving down at Auntie Katie as she shrieked with joy “To be fair, I didn’t know it was an option.” Simon said mildly. Michael scoffed

“See! I’ll make the shirts Kate! Just give me the stencil!” a wicked little smirk twisted Kate’s mouth for a second, her eyes shining in a way that Michael had noticed even made his terrifying brother-in-law Anthony stop in his tracks. “oh no, Michael. I’m afraid now I’m quite looking forward to what you come up with, you’r a creative spirit! Let it fly free!” She said as she bent down without even looking and scooped her daughter off the ground who had been sprinting past in attempt to reach the newly revealed chocolate pudding, clearly intent on dumping it on her brother’s head. Michael frowned

“That’s fine, I’ll just ask Penelope. She likes me.” he said, turning to Penelope who had just arrived to their tiny group. “You’ll give me the stencil so I can make a wives club shirt for myself right?” Penelope’s eyes widened, scooting a little nervously to Kate who was immensely enjoying her own joke  “Remember who picked you, Eloise, and Edwina out of the drunk tank when you were 19 and never told your mother Penelope.” Kate sing-songed happily. Penelope paled a little and then, a smirk formed matching Kate’s  “You’re a clever man Michael, you’ll figure something out.” She said, laughing as Michael tutted and then quickly “And don’t even try to fluster Sophie into telling you!” Penelope and Kate laughed brightly amongst themselves as Generalissimo and Pen AND the Sword joined Sweet but Psycho and The heiress 

“What’s that look for?” Francesca said wrapping her arm around his waist, as an idea formed in his mind.  “Your sister in law is an absolute menace.” Michael said, smiling as he kissed his wife’s cheek.  “Here Here” he heard Anthony muter as he passed, on his way to take his son from... Gareth! “Frankie, I love you, you’re beautiful but I have to take care of something!” He said kissing his Bewildered wife on the cheek as he called out  “GARETH!”

_________________

A week later Phillip Crane was looking at Michael as though he’d fully lost his mind, and honestly, maybe he had. 

“You want me to wear this... in public?” Phillip said a little slowly, Michael nodded.  “Yes, Gareth made them.” he replied, throwing attention to the youngest member of their group, already proudly wearing his creation, the sleeves rolled up artfully his tattooed arms in bright contrast to the white fabric. Phillip tutted.  “I’m a little disappointed that you were so easily swayed, Gareth.” Phillip said resignedly holding up the shirt in front of him. Gareth grinned brightly

“I think it’s great! Excellent idea Mike!” He said, tying his hair back in his signature bun “And, Phil, you know Eloise is gonna love it.”  Phillip’s head shot up at the sound of his wife’s name, a small smile appearing on his face, and Michael knew he’d won. Phillip sighed “Fine, Michael, if Simon will wear his, I’ll wear mine.”  Simon Basset burst through the door, as if on queue, his shirt already on grinning broadly “Sorry I’m late boys, Daph needed a hand with Caroline. Love the shirts by the way, just spoke to Luce and she said she’s on route with the other girls, we should head!” 

Phillip groaned as he pulled the shirt over his head. Michael let out a whoop of joy  “Let’s go boys!”

_______________

Well Well Well, Ladies and Gentlemen it seems The Bridgerton Wives Club now have a Sister (or rather brother) Organisation. Generalissimo, The Heiress, Sweet but Psycho and The Pen and the Sword were Joined by four new members today on their monthly brunch meeting today, and they seemed to have named themselves everyone say a very flustered hello to The Bridgerton Dudes Club Members include Mr Football, Mr Handsome, Mr Flowers, and Mr Manbun Gentlemen of London: Lock up your wives and Daughters!    

Anthony Bridgerton: Have you guys seen this? Kate has been cackling since she got home and I did wonder why.

Colin Bridgerton: Seen it? I was whooping for joy! You know Mum is gonna frame that picture and send it around for the Christmas card.

Eloise Crane: Oh Look at him! Apparently it was Michael’s Idea, Frankie remind me to thank Michael for getting Phil such a tight shirt.

Hyacinth St Clair: Jesus Christ, That man is an absolute idiot. At least this explains why I dropped in to his shop the other day to find Michael and Gareth whispering away like old women. I didn’t think Michael had any tattoos 

Benedict Bridgerton: Mr Handsome? Bit much isn’t it? But also, if Michael has a tattoo Soph might let me get one. 

Gregory Bridgerton: Gareth’s artwork looks better than Kate’s she’s gonna be Pissed. Lucy says Michael does have tattoos but she won’t say where ???? Frankie?????

Daphne Basset: I love Simon but... Mr Handsome is right 👀👀👀👀GET IT FRANKIE

Francesca Bridgerton-Stirling: ... I’m NOT discussing Michael’s tattoos with you heathens. But also... He is Going to Get it tonight. 

Hyacinth St. Clair: YEAH HE IS!!!!  

Anthony Bridgerton: Sadly I can confirm my wife is currently redoubling her efforts on the Wives Club Shirts, partially to spite Michael, partially to spite me. Please don’t tell her I actually like them (looking at you, Greg.) And Young Ladies! Go to bed! 

[deniigi]

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.”

“Same.”

“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.

[manikas-whims]

okay your Green Arrow X Kanej AU is amazing. I absolutely love the idea of Inej being the hooded vigilante and Kaz as her hacker partner

but if not fic, can you at least write some headcanons, I'm dying!!! Arrow was my shit back in 2014!

Okay! So here we go..

since I'm writing proper headcanons, I'll change Inej's vigilante name from Green Arrow to "Wraith" and make other plot changes as i feel like..:)

Tagging @kanejweek

under Day 4: Corrupted Ambition

Inspired by this moodboard

Kanej Vigilante AU Headcanons

Part 1 | Next»>

• It all started when 19 yo Inej Ghafa was out on a cruise with her parents after a big success in the business workings of the Ghafa Industries

• On around the 3rd day of cruise, due to a heavy storm, a shipwreck occurs

• Inej gets separated in the chaos and wakes up one morning to find herself ashore an unknown island.

• For days she wanders, having lived a life of luxury and love under the care of her parents, she believes she won't survive long.

Then several days later, when she's on the brink of passing out, a strange man finds her. He takes her to his hideout and offers her potable water (unlike the sea water on the shores) and also some fruits from the island.

At first she's cautious and keeps her distance but slowly comes to trust this man.

• The man trains her in survival skills and to her surprise, even teaches her some combat skills. She doesn't know which one cause she's unfamiliar with martial arts.

Finally the man teaches her using his makeshift weapons. And she finds she really enjoys using knives 🔪 and bow & arrows 🏹

﹏ time skip: 5 years later ﹏

• Inej is praying before the grave of the strange man who is now dead (due to mysterious reasons).

• She sees an airplane passing over the island. She burns a big stack of dead leaves & animal dung.

The plane spots the fire and then helps her get back. Someone on the plane recognizes her as the young heiress to the Ghafa Industries.

• Turns out she is the only one who was lucky enough to survive. There were no bodies discovered of her parents after the shipwreck.

• She is sent back to her home to live with her immediate aunt (from her father's side) and it takes her a few weeks to adjust.

• Meanwhile the news about her return is all over media. But her aunt protects her from any interviews.

• A Return Party is held for her where she reunites with her college bestfriend Nina Zenik.

• There's lots of hugs and crying and catching up to do. Nina has become well-known Fashion Designer.

• Ghafa Industries is currently being run by her father's former business partner Per Haskell.

Haskell doesn't hand over any authority to her as he believes a girl who'd been assumed dead for 5 years, isn't in the right state of mind to run a company.

But Inej doesn't trust Haskell at all. In fact, the more she encounters him, the more she begins to think the whole shipwreck was a planned thing to eradicate her family and gain ownership of Ghafa Industries.

• She decides to snoop around a bit into her parents' mansion and also at Haskell's home. And with the skills she's acquired under training from that man from the island, its pretty easy for her to scale walls and disappear like a ghost.

• She finds an old diary with her father's initials on it and takes it back home.

• The entire diary is full of a long list of names of people from other famous corporations. And she has no idea what this means.

• So left at a dead end and kinda bummed, she has no idea where to look or what should be her next step.

Thats when Nina Zenik pops up!

• Nina drops by at night and after some drinks and a batch of waffles, Inej ends up telling her (only vaguely) that she needs help figuring out some information because she doesn't trust Haskell.

• Nina nods and begins ranting about how shady Haskell seems.

Then Nina looks around as if to check no one is listening, and whispers, "You should totally see Dirtyhands."

"Who's Dirtyhands?" Inej is confused.

"He's a well-known hacker, a thief of secrets! I took his help a year ago to spy on my ex. That's how I discovered she was cheating!"

Inej rolls her eyes. "Are you sure this guy can actually help me?"

"There's no harm trying." Nina shrugs and picks up her phone.

Inej's phone buzzes the message tone as Nina sends her a name and address.

Inej eyes widen a little. "You can't be serious."

"I am." Nina winks. "He just likes to keep a low-profile by working at company's with a good reputation."

﹏ next morning ﹏

• Inej is still unsure because the details Nina had sent her last night belonged to an employee of the Ghafa Industries itself.

• She takes a breath and walks into the building that her parents had worked hard on from scratch.

• The receptionist immediately recognizes her and says, "Let me call your Uncle Mr. Haskell-"

"No need to disturb him." Inej says hurriedly and instead asks about the person Nina had sent her to see.

• With the details, Inej steps into the lift and stops on the 6th Floor: IT Section

• She searches around a bit and finally finds his room.

• She walks in and a guy clad in a casual black button-up and pants instantly turns around at the noise.

• "Umm..Kaz Brekker?" Inej begins. "I'm—"

"Inej Ghafa." the guy says curtly, his voice a brush of stone against stone. "That rich girl who has come back from the dead. Everyone knows who you are!"

Inej nods tensely. "Okay I need your help."

"Did Haskell send you here?"

"No, I don't need permission from Uncle Haskell to see anyone from my parents company!" she answers in frustration.

"In that case, there should'nt be any issues if I just call up your Uncle and ask him before helping y—"

"Dirtyhands!" she yells quickly and now he tenses.

His calm demeanor changes and he narrows his eyes on her. "How do you know that alias?"

"I have my sources." She answers as coolly as she can.

• Kaz Brekker looks around in thought for a moment. "Okay I'll help you but what do I get in return?"

"Anything within my reach." She says in annoyance.

"Anything?" He asks with raised brows, mischief glimmering in his coffee brown eyes.

Inej feels as if she's getting pulled into some kind of trap but agrees with a nod in the end.

"The deal is the deal." He says, bringing out his palm to her. They shake hands.

• Inej pulls out her father's diary from her jacket and gives him the first name from the long list. "Look up this guy and find everything on him. Even the darkest details."

Kaz gives her a suspicious look. "You're upto something bad."

"Just do as I say, we made a deal!"

He sighs but begins searching up, glancing occasionally at the door to make sure no one else walks in.

• Within two minutes he's done.

"Your guy is loaded like you." He comments, then adds in a quite voice. "He's also involved in illegal sales of weapons around the city."

• Inej just nods. "Thank you. What do you want in return?"

Kaz leans back in his chair and shrugs. "I'll think about it and tell you."

She nods again and motions to leave.

"What if I disclose our conversation to someone?" He asks just as she's at the door.

She turns, her grin threatening. "Then I'll just disclose the famous hacker Dirtyhands' identity."

His lips curve down in silent defeat. She leaves.

*thats all for now! Since it was getting too long. Let me know anon if you want a continuation of how Inej's first task as the vigilante Wraith ensues..And how Kaz gets tangled in it 😉

SoC Masterlist