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oceansssblue · 4 months ago

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100 CELEBRATION – PROMPT 6. HISTORIC PERIOD (REGENCY) AU

REX/FEMALE READER 💖🔥

WARNINGS: ALTERNATIVE UNIVERSE INSPIRED BY THE BRIDGERTONS, REFERENCES/IMPLIED CLASSISM AND ARRANGED MARRIAGES. SMALL AGE DIFFERENCE MENTIONED (nothing happens until reader is an adult). PERHAPS SOME HISTORICAL INACURANCIES. THIS ONE'S ALL FLUFF AND A BIT OF SMUT IN THE END (virgin reader). No name of female reader is mentioned, but I kinda needed to give us a surname, so we're lady Everhart now.

This one is SO long y'all! I still wanted to publish it under one single post, so I decided to name each part so you can find it easier if you can't read this one in just one go.

Read below the cut!

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PART 1. A HELPING HAND

In a society were appearance was almost as important as reality, your family stood at the very top of the piramid. It made walking around town without being recognised an impossible task; but your life has always been like that. Since you were a small child, mother and father have always reminded you to behave as if there were more than a pair of eyes studying you. People in Mandalore –and in any other country, for that matter– like to speculate and gossip; more so in the higher classes, and people tend to be specially critique and less permissive with those who hold more money or power than them, perhaps because of simple envy. And your family is very envied; but also well respected, and some are –daresay– even fond of you three, because for all the money you have, your family has always been polite and considerate. A small donation was made each year to the local orphanage and hospital. Those who worked for the family were never mistreated; and though your parents may be strict to you, they are, generally, kind people.

You have always been a sociable, friendly girl anyways –while also a tad shy at the same time–; so all the recognition doesn't bother you that much, and you make your way to the town's florist with a happy spring on your step, smiling and answering greetings, and even stopping for a quick chat with one or two fellow mandalorians, if only for courtesy. You've just celebrated your twelfth birthday; and for the first time in your life, your parents have allowed you to visit the town center without them. Without their guiding hand. Of course, you are still in the company of your chauffeur –who has been asked to make sure you remain safe and doesn't let you walk more than a few steps ahead of him–; but still, the ilusion of a bit of independance is thrilling.

You've had a nice stroll through town; stopped to have a taste at your favorite bakery's delicatessem and decided to finish the visit adquiring some beautiful flowers for your mother. You have a hard time choosing; they are all their own brand of magnificent, and you've always been just a tiny bit undecissive. You finally end up buying a stunning arrangement of purple Limoniums and daisyes; a few magnolia leaves in between to act as a background for the main artists. Purple is your mother's favorite colour, and both of you share a love for flowers and other flora. Your favorite spot at your family's main estate is probably the gardens; where you like to read or sketch.

It is upon the short walk back to the horse carriage in which you came in when you recognise someone else. The oldest of the Fett girls –Ashoka, if you rememember well– is holding a conversation with the only descendant of the Krells; a family almost as rich as yours but nowhere near as charismatic. You quietly observe the interaction; quickly reading between lady Fett's frown and her pursed lips. You can't blame her for not doing a better job at masking her disdain. You haven't really had the chance to personally talk with sir Krell yourself; but you have been in the presence of his parents –Marie and Pong– several times, and it has never been an exciting experience.

Your own frown can't help but make it's way through your face when you see the man closing his hand around lady Fett's wrist; the older girl –she should be fifteen or sixteen, you suppose– visibly unhappy about it. After a brief moment of hesitation, you decide to step in. Ashoka and you are nowhere near as friends. You've barely exchanged more than passing greetings with her; but you have often watched her family from affar –it's inevitable to feel curious, if only because for how many Fetts they are– and they had always been perfectly polite and kind. You can see she is on her own today as well. Perhaps you're exagerating the situation, but just in case, you'll offer her the chance to flee the scene.

"Lady Fett!" You bring a pleased expresion of surprise to your face, coming to a slow stop besides her. Your chauffeur waits patiently for you a few steps behind, giving you some space. "Oh, this is such a wonderful coincidence! It has been so long since we last had the oportunity to chat with each other... I was just on my way to the carriage that will take me back home. I'm not sure if you came here on one of your own, or if you have finished with whatever has taken you to center town... But I wonder if you wouldn't mind sharing mine on the way back so we could use the time to get reaquainted?"

You'll give her some credit; her blue eyes –a unique trait of hers, since none of the other Fetts share that eye colour– only widen fractionally for a second before she's following you on your made-up excuse, smiling instantly.

"Lady Everhart" Ashoka gives a tiny half nod half bow in courtesy, which you replicate inmediately. "A wonderful surprise indeed. It is a brilliant idea, it would be wonderful to get reaquainted. Are you in a rush, dear?"

You can almost imagine the silent conversation between you and the older girl's eyes. You fake a bit of hesitance and worry and gesture towards the arrangement still in your hands.

"Oh, I'm afraid so! You see, I had just bought this beautiful flowers for my mother, and I worry they'll go to waste if I don't put them in water soon. I hope it doesn't pose a problem if we retire now?" Then, you turn your body to fully face sir Krell and smile sweetly. "I really am sorry for cutting your meeting short, my lord. I hope you find kidness in yourself to forgive me".

There's really no such thing as kidness in the Krell's name; but the man knows a lost battle when he faces one, so he gives you a forced smile back and makes a small gesture with his hat.

"It is already forgiven, my lady" is his polite answer. "I wish you both a good rest of your afternoon".

He shoots a last lingering glance at lady Fett before he courtesys again and retires. Ashoka lets out a sigh of relief and you smile gently at her, gently redirecting her towards your carriage.

"Follow me, lady Fett. Our transport is just around the corner here".

It's only until you're both sitting down in the carriage and you've given the chauffeur instructions to make a stop at the Fett's estate when the young woman finally allows herself to fully relax and alludes to the situation you've helped her escape.

"I can't thank you enough for that, lady Everhart" she starts. "Lord Krell doesn't appear to understand the decline of an offer when he hears it".

You wash it off instantly; and though you've always felt irritated by the general gossip, you can't help but ask her directly.

"Please forgive me for inquiring, and do not feel the need to answer if you'd prefer not to... But I assume he is interested in courting you, then?

Lady Fett sighs again; an exasperated one, this time.

"He has always paid... Particular attention to me, yes. The fact that I will have my presentation in society next year seems to have duplicated his efforts, no matter how clearly I've shown my desinterest. You would think he couldn't get more obnoxious than he normally is; but oh, believe me, he can".

Ashoka's eyes widen again, almost as if that last part was blurted out and caught even herself by surprise. You certainly weren't expecting it –people are always so carefull with what they say around you, perhaps afraid of offending you– and you laugh and giggle at both her comment and her expresion. Seing at how you're not bothered at all, lady Fett chuckles quietly as well, though with a tint of embarassment on her cheeks.

Both of you have a nice chat while the carriage takes you to the Fett's. This is the first time you've really interacted with Ashoka; but you take an instant liking to the older girl.

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PART 2. TEA AT THE FETT'S

When lady Fett invites you to a cup of tea upon arriving to her house, you're unable to say no to those big blue eyes of hers. Ashoka really is a beautiful girl; with incredibly long, almost white hair that ends right past her hips, and that bronze skin inherited by all the Fetts. She has a small nose and plush dark lips; and a wide smile that stretches from side to side of her face. She's not as tall as her brothers. Where they have wide shoulders and a strong build, she's more on the leaner, agile side; but you can definitly see the resemblance between them. Now, the similarities between the Fett boys themselves... That is astounding; other mandalorians often joking about their parents having somehow pre-selected the same looks for all of them. As far as you know, there are two girls and eleven males in the Fett family; ages ranking from twenty-six to eight. The fact that so many children had lost both their mother and father –the first during labour, the second one in war barely a year after her death– was terribly saddening. At least they all seemed to be a loving family, support each other; and they were doing well.

To your relief and joy, Ashoka inmediately asks a maid to find a place for the flowers you've bought to remain watered and safe; and so you're able to follow her through her home without worrying about them. You curiously study the rooms as you walk by them; never having visited the Fett's before today. Wether your family ocuppies the top of society's piramid, Ashoka's family stands on the bottom part of nobility; though your parents have always been fond of the Fetts and that same distant but sincere fondness seems to have passed onto you. Most of the other higher families share the feeling; the Fett name is undeniably linked to a long list of brave soldiers and warriors, and Mandalore takes great pride on its army. If you remember correctly, only one of the Fett boys has followed an alternative path; Kix, who must be just a year older than Ashoka, and has been recently apointed as the town's doctor new apprentice.

Lady Fett guides you to the gardens; and inmediatly upon stepping outside, you can hear laughter and different sets of voices calling to each other and half-shouting. You quickly find out what's the funny scene. One third of the Fett boys have their eyes blindfolded while they try to catch the second third –and Omega, the youngest of all at only eight– with their hands; while the last small group of them watches the scene a bit further apart, sitting down around a small table and enjoying conversation over tea.

Ashoka shoots them all a smirk.

"I see you're all entertained" she comments, making herself known, and the Fett's sitting at the table all turn around to happily greet her.

You stand a few steps behind her, still watching the game with a tiny smile on your face.

"Ashoka! You're back earlier than we expected" Gregor –third oldest– frowns and worries. "Is everything alright?"

The older girl steps aside so you're in their line of view as well and gently beckons you to her side. You focus your attention back on the gentlemen.

"Yes, thanks to lady Everhart. She just happened to pass by and aided me at escaping sir Krell's hands".

Quiet groans and mutters spread through the table, and you have to reign in the need to laugh. Apparently, the rest of the Fetts are as irritated by sir Krill as Ashoka herself. You see some other more serious, clenched jaws as well. You should have guessed this soldiers would be particularly protective of their sister.

"Lady Everhart" the oldest of the brothers, Cody, inmediately stands up to greet you, and you give him a small courtesy in response. "Your presence is more than welcomed into our home. Would you like to join us for tea?"

You nod politely at the offer, shyness mixing into your feelings. After all, you're in a house full of strangers; you'll need some extra time to feel more comfortable around them.

"Thank you, Sir Fett" you quietly answer. "If you're sure I won't interrupt..."

Cody waves a hand in nochalance.

"Of course not, please" he turns and gestures for you to take place in one of the spair chairs.

You elegantly sit down, mindfull of your dress, and Ashoka takes the spot besides you. You smile amicably to the rest of the Fetts.

"Evening, sirs" you greet them, receiving a wave of choruses back.

Cody sits down again as well.

"You'll have to forgive the noise, lady Everhart. Sometimes finding new ways to entertain Omega and Tup can get to be a bit too much".

You read the underlaying wariness and worry under his words and their facial expresions; and so, you answer with an unbothered, sincere smile.

"It poses no problem at all, sir Fett. I wish I had someone to play with me like this when I was a child. It looks like fun...".

There are some relieved smiles and smirks in response to that; and soon you're inmersed in annecdotes and stories about Ashoka's family, the atmosphere turning less formal and more relaxed with each set of chuckles and laughs.

A general picture of the Fett's starts to form in your mind. Commanders Cody and Wolffe are the oldest ones; followed closely –just by one year apart– by Gregor, and then sargents Rex and Howzer. The twins, Fives and Echo, stand at the middle of the bunch; Kix being the last adult of the Fett siblings at seventeen years old, just one year above Ashoka. Jesse and Dogma are fourteen and thirteen, respectively; and then you have the youngest siblings at last, Tup and Omega, with ten and eight. It is clear they all love each other just the same.

For all their physical similarities, their personalities are vastly different. Commander Wolffe is the most intimidating one of the group; his few interventions almost coming off in quiet mutterings and irritated snaps. He's still polite and it's clear he's just as caring towards his family as Cody; he's just a bit more rough around the edges, perhaps as a result of his experiences at war. You try not to glance twice at his eyepatch.

Cody has all the qualities of a good father; since he had to basically take the roll of one. He's firm but patient; and has impecable manners. Gregor's character seem to be less sharp and more openly friendly; the kind of person who'll make anyone feel instantly at ease.

Kix and Gregor seem to be the more affectionate of the bunch. You can't make a picture out of Howzer because he really doesn't interact much; you suspect he's a bit on the reserved side.

Rex is like a mix of everyone; he's similar to Cody, holding that same self-confidence and firmness, while holding Kix and Gregor's warmth –even if he shows it in a quieter, more subtle way–, and adding a bit of the twins traits.

Fives is one of the most straight-forward people you've met; while also being the chirpiest –for a lack of a better word–. He's all bright smiles and cheekiness, jokes and laughs; it's hard to picture him in battle with a personality like that, though you have no doubt he makes an excellent soldier. Echo is a quieter version with much more irony and sarcasm.

Observing the rest of the younger siblings playing, you can tell there's a bit of brotherly rivalry between Jesse and Dogma; the first one acting more carefree and mischiveous while the second follows rules to perfection. Tup and Omega are just inocent sweethearts; the boy more shy and the girl more curious. You're surprised at how fast you've managed to catch everyone's twist; how much their differences shine.

The rest of the evening passes by; and it's soon time for you to return home –mother and father might start worrying now–. You say your goodbyes to the family and Ashoka guides you back to main entrance; a maid quickly stepping forward and politely reminding you of the flowers you left in the vase before. You wait patiently for her to bring them to you. It is on that short wait when Sargent Rex and Omega make their way to the staircase; and the maid reappears with the stunning flower arrangement. The youngest of the Fett's makes a surprised sound while she changes the direction of her steps.

"Oh, wow!" She exclaims, eyes wide open, aproaching slowly with his older brother at his back. "I've never seen such vibrant purple flowers before!"

You smile and show them to her; Omega peering curiously and glancing up at you as if asking for some sort of explanation.

"This ones right here are Limoniums" you point, voice soft and gentle. "They come all the way up from Naboo, and it is said they represent hope and beauty. And you probably recognise the daisies. Did you know they're often used in medicine? They help wounds heal faster and reduces inflamation".

Omega looks at you in surprise.

"Really? I should start to collect this then, I'm somehow always falling around!" She blurts out, making the three of you chuckle inmediately.

Rex squeezes her shoulder affectionately.

"It would help if half of your games didn't require you to wander around with your eyes closed, 'Meg" he points out in good humour, and you smile wider at Omega's response and pout.

"But they're the most fun..."

Sargent Rex chuckles and nods in acceptance.

"Okay, okay".

You glance at the flowers and back at the eight year old girl. You quickly make a decision and hand them to her.

"You know, it's a rocky trip to my family estate and I wouldn't want this beautiful flowers to go to waste. If you promise you'll take care of them, I'll leave them here under your care".

Before any of Omega's siblings have had the chance to shut the offer down for her, the girl is already jumping up and down in excitement.

"Oh, I promiss I will! Thank you!"

She quickly takes them in her hands and approaches the maid again, gesturing happily while the woman tags along and indulges her while they walk away. You smile so wide your cheeks hurt.

"That was a very nice gesture" the sargent comments, Ashoka nodding in agreement. "Which unfortunately means you'll return home with your hands empty. Are you sure you don't mind?"

You shake your head to the sides, still smiling honestly.

"We're not lacking flowers at home" you shyly joke. "And I have a feeling my mother wouldn't have been as enthusiastic as Omega. I can always buy another one for her."

A pair of days later, a similar purple arrangement is delivered to your family estate; a small card that signs "the Fetts" with a slightly messy scribble that you suspect is Omega's masterpiece. The detail brings a fond smile to your face.

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PART 3. THE RACE

Hera Syndulla has always been your best friend. Her family had moved in from Ryloth decades ago –and mandalorians were not exactly welcoming to strangers–; but the Syndulla's carried a good name and fortune with them, so your grandparents –you never had the chance to meet them, for they had died long before you were born– had all but encouraged their friendship. Your respective parents had therefore grown together; so it was only natural that the two of you, both girls that were used to attend the same social circles, happened to grow close as well.

You're on one of those socially aceptable entertainments today; the anual horse race in honor of the Cuy'val Dar; those who no longer exists with us. Hera is right by your side on one of the stands; both of you chatting excitedly and making comments about the form and beauty of the horses or the rumoured ability of their jockeys. Spring has just arrived to Mandalore, and the weather is specially pleasant today; every man and woman taking the chance to show their best attires and dresses, transforming the public stands in a wide spectrum of fabrics and colours. You've chosen a light blue for today; where Hera wears her classic lime green dress, one of her all time favorites. It compliments her well.

Still talking with your bubbly friend, your eyes flicker distractedly over the rows of fellow mandalorians; taking in known faces and spotting other unfamiliar ones here and there. It is in that lazy scan around you when you lock eyes with a set of almost golden ones on the stand next to yours; and your attention inmediately zeroes there. Rex Fett smiles politely and makes a greeting elegant gesture with his hat towards you; never ceasing to talk with the gentleman at his side –Sir Skywalker, you believe–. You return the courtesy with a slight, almost imperceptible blush to your cheeks. You've heard that Rex has been promoted to captain –while the twins had just finished ARC training–; and you know you're not the only fifteen year old that has been thinking about the handsome soldier lately. You've heard other girls your age –and older– gossip about him; and about how dissapointing it is that he never takes another woman other than his sister to dance. You've heard a bit of resentment and venom in those words too, as well as another few ill-words; but you have no doubt Ashoka's brother had tried nothing but letting them down gently, never intending to humiliate or hurt them. And you're confident that he doesn't give in because he thinks better of himself than those who had insinuated anything close to interest. By what you can remember of him from that one ocasion at the Fett's and the very few interactions between each other through the following years, he's nothing but considerate and gentle. Perhaps he hasn't indulged another woman before because he hadn't been particularly interested and he didn't want to consciously play or hurt anyone. It is unusual; but you respect that.

Unfortunately, all that rambling inside your head makes you lose the trail of your conversation with Hera and your friend quickly notices why; pointing it to you with an amused smile.

"Ah, so I finally learn what is your type, then..." she comments, voice humourous.

You tear your eyes away from the captain and look back to Hera; uncontrollably blushing harder at her unexpected and very direct comment.

"I have said no such thing" You answer, perhaps with a bit too much emotion for that comment being far from the truth. "Besides, Captain Rex is a few years older than me. It isn't like that. Why does your dirty mind always have to jump to that?

Hera laughs.

"Alright, alright. No need to act so offended, my lady" she jokes. Her bright green eyes flicker upwards behind your back. She then grins widely. "He just glanced back at you again, by the way".

Your face twists in surprise, and you carefully take a glance back as well; finding him completely absorbed in a new conversation with a readhead that can only be Lord Kenobi. You frown in confusion, and your friend starts cackling quietly. You look in her direction again and quickly understand it was her way of proving her point; and you have to roll your eyes and chuckle inevitably. Hera is a little sneaky thing.

When the race is announced to be about to start, and the jockeys may ask for a token of a lady of their choice to bring them luck, both you and Hera are truly surprised when Lord Vizla asks you for your handkerchief. Pre Vizla is only three years older than you; however, you've never really interacted with him and he definitly has never shown anything akin to interest before. But there's eyes on the two of you now –unbekownst to you, Rex's as well–; and he's from one of the most powerful families of Mandalore, so you smile politely and hand it to him.

Lord Vizla ties it to his wrist and smirks; and you can't help but think he's a different kind of attractive as well. Ah, hormones really make a young woman's body and mind a mess when they're fifteen.

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PART 4. THE BALL

You're seventeen; and a few months after your birthday, right at the beginning of the summer, Mandalo'r Kryze organises the anual royal ball for all men and woman of your age to be presented into society.

Saying you are nervous would be an understatement. This is no ordinary ball. You're aware of how much this ocasion could change your future; women in nobility marry young. Your soon-to-be husband could ask you for a dance today; or perhaps feel pushed to take you off from another gentleman's hands after this ocasion and pursue you in the ones to come.

You wait in line with the other seventeen year old girls –woman, now– trying to mask your nerves. Every single one of you are dressed in your finest attires. The dress you've chosen for this ocasion is a special emerald green with a lighter tone for the lace and embroidery; as well as the usual white elbow-length gloves and silver jewelry. The delicate tiara that holds your updo is lined with five small diamonds; another two teardrop-shaped ones hanging from each ear. In the space between your collarbones a heart-shaped emerald rivals for the attention of the dress she was sumoned to match with. Your tight corset and heels might feel uncomfortable; though you have to admit you've never felt better with yourself than when your mother had finally allowed you to look at your reflection before taking the carriage to the Mandal'ors palace. You've never considered yourself vain -there are so many other important qualities, after all-; but you had to admit you had felt relieved and satisfied with what you could see. You know everyone's eyes –and gossips– would be upon the group of debutants today; and you can't help but want to make a good impresion.

Soon, you're all parading down the marble staircase towards the salon that will hold the ball; and you promptly make it to your father for the first dance of the night, who gives you a little smile to reasure you and soothe your nerves. You gratefully smile back at him and prepare yourself for the first note of the violin.

All too short, the first dance finishes; and almost inmediately, the first brave gentleman of the night ask for your father's permision to substitute him for the next one. Your father nods and leaves you in his hands. You smile –a bit nervous still– at him before placing your hand on his arm and concentrating in the next set of steps. You don't personally know this gentleman; he's not unpolite, though he barely whispers a word to you either, and soon he is forgotten on the line of faces of good sirs you dance with through the night.

More or less at half of the songs list, Pre Vizla asks for a spot on your dance card; and you happily indulge him in one. You notice a few glances and whispers around you when the two of you make your way to the center of the room; but you make your best to ignore them and focus on the man in front of you. Vizla is impecably dressed. You can tell he has asked for Mandalor's best seamstresses for the way the fabric of his suit shines with the inflection of the light, and how well it fits him inch by inch. There's not a single wrinkle were it shouldn't be.

He's a good dance partner; he doesn't stumble, doesn't hesitate, and directs you over the floor efortlessly. He makes small chat with you afterwards, complimenting the emerald that hangs from your neck and the intricacy of your updo; and you can't help but feel flattered and excited about possible prospects with him. You know mother and father must be feeling satisfied and proud somewhere in the room, looking at the two of you.

After a brief uncomfortable incident in the following dances, you hear your name being called by someone standing behind you. Hera's eyes widen in shock in front of you; and you turn towards the voice with curiosity and intrigue upon your best friend's reaction. You can't help but gasp quietly as well, eyes widening too in honest surprise. In front of you is none other than captain Rex Fett; more handsome than ever with his light hair and amber eyes contrasting with the dark blue jacket of his formal attire.

"Lady Everhart" he calls you again, nodding politely in greeting, studying your reaction quietly. "Would you happen to have a spot on your dance card for me?"

It takes you a few seconds to react; and even then, you answer without thinking on how your sentence could be misinterpreted. You open your dance card and chuckle.

"I'm afraid I can't write your name in here anymore, sir Fett".

He's quick to mask his dissapointment; though you can see the hurt through his gaze. His eyes are so expressive; even if his face stays in polite understanding.

"I see. Well, I don't want to steal your time..."

You frown in confusion. Hera points at your dance card urgently at the Captain's back; and you suddenly remember your half blurted answer to Rex's invite.

"Oh!" Your cheeks redden upon your own embarassment. "Please forgive me, I forgot to give you the context for my denial. My dance card... Just happened to be monopolised by one gentleman in particular, who decided to take the pencil from my hands and write his own name in every single one of the dances left..."

You let him have a look at it and the man's expresion softens in understanding at sir Maul's –a very unpleasent, narcissist individual– messy caligraphy scribbled on every single spot on your dance card. You quickly show him a bright, enthusiastic smile.

"But even if I couldn't write your name down, it would be my pleasure to save the last dance for you" you accept, and the Captain nods, giving you a small smile before retiring to patiently wait for his moment.

As the night comes to an end, you feel more and more exhausted, energy slowly being drained; your feet hurt and you feel like you can barely breathe properly at this point of the ball. Some of the other debutants have left already, their dances completed; but there is only one more song you have reserved for someone, and so your eyes scan the salon to find him.

Captain Rex is chatting with Ashoka, her husband –another soldier for the Mandalorian army, you believe–, and one of his younger brothers –Jesse–. She catches your eye first; joy quickly brightening her features while she greets you all the way through the other side of the room. You smile right back at her with the same emotion bubbling inside of you.

The interaction pulls Rex's attention back to you; his eyes fixed on yours now, questioning. You nod to indicate you're ready for him and he closes the conversation with his family before making his way towards you. Your heart accelerates inside your chest. Your nerves had died out through the night until now; but you somehow hold a special kind of respect and admiration –and perhaps attraction as well– towards sir Fett, and you feel them return to you at full force. For how social you are and how you've been confidently behaving throughout the night, you now feel a bit shy. You're also aware that he doesn't usually actively participate in this kind of events; and the knowledge that he has decided to step in for you, that he might be interested in you in that way...

Rex seems to notice this, for he gently directs you to a less-centered spot for the both of you to comfortably dance along the rest; quickly trying to put you at ease by speaking of Ashoka -a common ground- and asking about your friend. The small chat is enough to help you keep your own nerves at bay in order to enjoy this last dance and not make a fool out of yourself.

And oh, how you enjoy it... There's something about Rex. Where with others -even with Vizla- you've felt evaluated, almost as if they were looking or at least paying attention -waiting- for an error on your part –both in the dancing and in your general behaviour or conversation–, the Captain makes you feel comfortable; almost normal. He doesn't glance around the room. His eyes don't flicker to the top of your breasts under the excuse of admiring your jewelry or dress. They stay focused on yours; such an undivided attention making you feel flustered and warm at the same time. He's a perfect gentleman; and when the dance finishes and you talk some more with him, it feels like he's really listening, and not politely waiting for you to end your phrase before redirecting the conversation to something more of his interest.

A few minutes later, your mother smiles at you and makes a small subtle gesture with her head towards the door; and you know it's time to go back home. Rex nods in agreement; his amber eyes momentarily glancing upwards towards your hair.

"Lady Everhart, before we take our different ways, I wanted to compliment your..." he momentarily hesitates, or perhaps gets lost in his words, and you try to finish the rest of the sentence for him with a kind smile on your face.

"Let me guess... You admire the complexity of my updo? Or the elegance of my tiara?" you smile knowingly.

It's what most of the gentlemen have commented about; along with your necklace and dress. Mother had really helped you to pick the best choice.

To your surprise, Rex shakes his head, focusing on your face again.

"They're beautiful, of course... But that wasn't my first thought of the night upon seing you" he answers politely, then almost quietly whispers, warmth in his eyes. "I wanted to compliment the beauty you are yourself. You look lovely today, if I may say".

"Oh" your cheeks are on fire after his answer, and you swear you almost feel the butterflies moving inside of you. "That's so considerate of you to say. Thank you, sir Fett. If I may... You... You look lovely as well".

Your eyes take sudden interest in the floor in front of your feet; and the captain chuckles quietly, thanking you for your kind words as well before taking your hand in his and giving your dorso a kiss in a heartfelt goodbye.

"I shall let you return to your family, my lady. Perhaps we could see each other soon in a less crowded setting".

You see the way he's calmly observing your reaction now; trying to figure out wether you'd be truly interested in that or if you agreeing to dance with him has been nothing more than kind politeness.

Not knowing exactly what to say, you give him a shy nod and hope he can read it all in your face.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PART 5. RIVALING SUITORS

The next couple of days are nothing but hectic to the Everhart family. Your worries of not having made a good impresion in the royal ball are inmediately washed away when letters and gifts start to arrive to your estate at your name. Your mother is almost as excited as you; while your father just observes the situation with a mix of pride and melancholy. You know it's difficult for him to get used to the fact that you're not a small girl anymore; that you may get married soon and leave their home. You try not to dwell on that fact either; even if you're excited about all of this, it scares you too. Thankfully, you still have a sociably acceptable couple of months before taking any permanent decision.

Pre Vizla gifts you a delicate piece of jewelry each time you both meet. First it's an amethyst bracelet; then a new set of diamond earings -this ones in a perfect rounded shape-, and finally a tiara of small, beautiful emeralds that he points would match perfectly with the one you wore in a necklace for the royal ball. You thank each one of them with a smile and honest gratefulness; and when others are gently led down either in person or by letter, Pre Vizla stays on the top part of your favorite suitors. He's consistent in his interest.

You had been initially somewhat dissapointed to find out Captain Rex hadn't been along the ones who had sent you a gift; thinking he might have changed of opinion and he was no longer interested in pursuing you in a romantic way. But a week and a half after your presentation in society, your father tells you Sir Fett has reached out to him via correspondence and that he has set up a date for the two of you to pass some time together -with your maid as a carbine, of course-. The hope that you had pushed down inside your chest reignites ten times stronger; and when the day arrives and he greets you with a purple flower arragement you know well, your heart melts.

"I wish I would have known your favorites so I could get them for you" he says, voice and eyes warm and honest. "But if I recall correctly you were fond of Limoniums and daisies as well".

It moves you; the fact that he hasn't chosen any random flowers or the most pricey or classical ones, but an arrangement he knew would mean something to you instead. It moves you; the fact that he remembers -or has bothered to learn- even the names of the flowers as well.

You show him a smile so wide and bright it hurts the side of your cheeks.

"My favorite ones are pink lilies" you tell him softly. "But this is an excellent choice as well. Thank you, sir Fett".

Rex nods and the rest of the afternoon flies by. You find yourself completely engrosed with him.

The next few weeks your mind and heart are pulled into two different directions. Pre Vizla and Rex Fett hold your complete attention now; and your days pass meeting with one and the other, trying to find out who you like best and who would be a better match for you. You have trouble deciding. Both gentleman are excellent suitors; and each of them have their own qualities. Your heart is more partial towards Rex; while your mind tells you Vizla is best. You start to feel stressed. You don't want to regret what probably is the most important decision in your life; but even your parents are shooting you that "you have to chose sooner or later" look now.

Perhaps noticing your rollercoaster of emotions, Pre invites you to a picnic in his family estate. You are thankfull for the change of scenery; you've always liked nature and spending time under the sun -though your mother has always reminded you to protect your skin from it since you can remember, pointing out that developing different tan spots wasn't very lady-like -. You talk with sir Vizla for an hour -listening attentively- before he suggests a small boat trip. Mandalore has several lakes; and the Vizla family had built their mansion centuries ago right besides one of them. You nod and follow his directions excitedly; the only chance you get to be near the water is when Mandal'or Kryze organises a summer evening for all society to attend to -as the palace is built next to the biggest lake of Mandalore as well-, and that won't be until a week's time.

Pre pilots the small boat perfectly; rowing efortlessly to take the boat further into the lake -not too far away either- before leaving both paddles inside and re-starting the conversation. Your attention is split between the view and him until the wind pushes a dandelion in front of you. You smile and innocently try to catch it, enthraced; not noticing how the boat tilts to one side dangerously with the suden shift of your weight. Vizla has barely had the time to shout out a warning before the boat is completely tilted over and you're both plumeting into the water.

You gasp and resurface with a cough; a mix of surprise, understanding, and embarassment showing in your face.

"I'm so sorry!" you inmediately say, fighting against the weight of your now heavy dress to keep your head afloat while Pre quickly takes hold of the boat and miraculously manages to scramble back inside of it.

He mutters under his breath, soaked, and carefully tugs you back to safety.

"Didn't you realised what was going to happen?" is the first thing he says that you can actually hear. "What were you doing anyways?"

You play with your own fingers in uncomfortable guilt. Pre's face is set on a deep frown –lips pursed–, and experimenting obvious irritation and anger.

"I was trying to catch a dandelion" you whisper quietly, shivering now that the wind plus your wet clothes are really making the cold noticed. "It's supposed to bring you good luck for a whole year".

Vizla scoffs and tries to re-arrange his expensive and very wet attire into place. He lowers the paddles back into the water and asks you to sit back down –carefully– again.

"We should get back inside and warm up if we don't want to catch a cold" he states, starting to row again, voice cold and condescendent. "Next time think better of what your actions may cause before ruining a day for such childish reasons".

You nod in silence, lowering your head. Your eyes remain focused on your own hands for the rest of the trip. You feel horrible; though you don't want to cause a scene on top of everything, so you swallow every emotion down until you're safely tucked that night in bed. The next day, you receive a letter from Pre where he apologises for reacting so harshly in spite of the wrong of your actions. He sends flowers with it this time –red roses–; and it makes you feel marginally better.

You fear for the situation repeating itself. Just one week later, as usual, Mandal'or invites all nobel families to an evening by the lake, and several boats are available for those who want to take them for a stroll with their companions. The weather is warm and sunny, and everyone seems to be in good spirits for the ocasion. You have only been talking with Hera for a few minutes when the Fett family joins you; and shortly after, Rex asks you if you'd want to spend some time together in one of the boats. The unpleasant ending of your last date with Pre Vizla quickly crosses your mind; but you don't find it in yourself to say no to those warm amber eyes, so you accept.

Rex steps into the boat first, politely extending a hand towards you to help you jump inside. You give him a cautious smile and take him on his offer. He carefully tugs you towards him; and soon you're sitting down in front of him, boat slowly moving towards the center of the lake. Other couples around you share the same idea. Everyone seems to be having fun.

The accident with Vizla never leaves your mind. Suddenly, you find yourself asking and thinking on how would the captain react. Would he get angry as well? Roll his eyes in exasperation? Perhaps clench his jaw and reign in his condescendant words? Or call you out loud on it? It's all you can think about; and you feel the absolute need to know this. Mother had told you years ago that marriage wasn't all attraction and butterflies; that small fights and disagreements were common too, part of a married couple's life. When you had once asked her if she was happy wtih father, she had replied with words you'd never forget; "Yes, my flower. Your father and I may not hold the most ardent love for each other; but we take care of the other's well-being. We find common ground in our arguments; we try not to take each others small mistakes too seriously. If you want to be happy one day, my little flower... Chose the one that knows how to laugh at inconsequent things and let them slip away instead of quietly punish you for them". You hadn't quite understood those words then; but you think you do now, and you feel the unstopable urge to know this about Rex.

You make the same error; knowing perfectly well it will end with the two of you falling into the lake. This time you're expecting it and you surface faster, quickly taking a deep gulp of air in and blinking the drops of water away from your eyelids; eyes holding the Captain's confused, worried ones.

"Are you okay?" He asks inmediately, one hand taking hold of the edge of the boat before gently helping you to reach over as well. "What happened there?"

"Sorry" you whisper guiltily, cheeks heating up in embarassment even if this was your plan all along. "I... Wanted to catch a dandelion. It's supposed to bring you luck for a year".

Rex blinks in surprise. Then, he chuckles quietly and shakes his head; drops of water flying everywhere from the movement of his short hair. You study his reaction in silence; almost waiting expectantly.

"I'm sorry" you tell him again, glancing away in convincing acting. "I know it's childish".

A hand softly tilts your chin upwards; and Rex's warm voice soothes you instantly.

"Accidents happen. It's okay".

He's gentle and understanding from the way he talks and looks at you to how he carefully helps you back into the boat and tries to distract you from the incident. He even offers you the jacket of his suit so you can shield yourself from the cold with it. His reaction is so drastically different from Vizla's... Suddenly, you have everything clear. You don't want your husband to be someone you feel pressured to look and be perfect with; someone that makes you feel like you're under the magnifying glass, that you need to make an effort to be with them. Someone who doesn't really like to listen to your interests but expects you to pay full attention to his. Who is polite but cold. Who would criticise you at every mistake, demanding you to be better, instead of showing you understanding and support. You don't want a Pre Vizla; you want a Rex Fett.

After comforting a worried mother and father and a few more conversations with acquaintances and friends, the sun hides between the mountains, and it is time for everyone to say their goodbyes. You wait for your carriage in line in front of the Fett's; and you can't help but surreptitiously graze yours and the captain's hands together, shyly glancing back at him. His bright eyes are already set on yours. His hand twitches, and his fingers carefully and softly caress your skin; the slow gesture much more intimate and nerve-wracking with such an intense uninterrupted stare. Those eyes tell you secrets you had somehow been oblivious to until now. You know he truly cares about you; he'll treat you well.

After what feels like endless -and at the same time, too short- seconds, your fingers find reluctant distance. Before hoping up onto your family's carriage, you shoot a sweet hopefull smile towards sir Fett.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

PART 6. A YES

Two days later, your mother finally voices your parents concern. You're both in one of the small salons of the house; she's inmersed in a book while you draw and paint. The sun gives a soft warm glow to the room. Sparrows chirp outside. It's one of those slow, peacefull summer mornings; not a rush in sight.

An hour or two in, your mother abandons her reading, placing the book down on the small desk in front of her and turning towards you with a pensive expresion on her face. You sense the importance of what she's about to ask, and you set your pencil down, pausing your sketch.

"Honey..." she starts, voice patient and soft. "Have you decided yet?"

It sends your mind in a whirlwind. You have; but you're afraid of your parents answer, of what they'd think about it. What if they're dissapointed? What if they don't accept it? What if... What if they marry you to another anyways? The thought of being forced to live the rest of your days with another man sends goosebumps all over your skin. You know yourself. You're stubborn. Once you take a decision, it's almost impossible to make you sway; but you know that your thoughts won't matter if it came to that. Your father has the last say.

"I know who you'd like me to pick..." you answer quietly, nervously wringling your fingers together.

Your mother shows you an understanding little smile.

"But you like Sir Fett" she guesses.

Your heart is sent to a frenzy.

"Yes" you admit in barely a whisper, though it's a self-assured one.

Your mother sighs and takes your hand in hers; squeezing softly.

"My flower... The Vizla family shares a similar status to ours, and you'll never lack any luxury with them. Pre is also closer to you in age. Yes, I have to say he is who your father and I were picturing you with. But if you think you won't miss this things and your heart calls you to Captain Rex... Then you should listen to it. The small age gap might make some uncomfortable, but it's certainly not scandalous, and the Fetts are still very much respected here. Lord knows that that family has done more for Mandalore than the rest of us combined..." she gives you a tender smile and squeezes your hand a second time. "Do not fret, my flower. If Sir Fett is the one you'd like to marry, your father and I will support you on your decision".

Tears spring into your eyes; and you can't help but hug her tightly to yourself like you did when you were a child.

"Oh, mother... I will forever be gratefull to have such wonderful parents" you tell her sincerily.

She chuckles and gently presses your foreheads together in a Keldabe.

"Shall we then invite sir Vizla one last time, before we organize a dinner with the Fett's a few days after that?" she suggests, caressing your hair.

You nod excitedly.

Letting down Pre Vizla goes easier than you'd initially thought. You were a bit afraid of him reacting too strongly and somehow criticise you for your decision, tell you you'd regret it; he doesn't. Perhaps he had realised you weren't what he was looking for either. He takes the notice well, and is surprisingly neutral throughout all of your conversation with him. Not that it would change anything by this point; but it confirms you you're making the right choice. He doesn't seem to care wether he's with you or not; you'd rather be with someone who did.

It makes you feel so relieved. When your parents invite the Fett's over for dinner a few days later, and you see Rex for the first time since privately taking your decision, you're so happy it almost feels like you're shining. Your smile is radiant throughout the whole dinner. You're chattier and bubblier than usual; and you can't stop glancing at him. He's so handsome, with his light blonde hair deliciously contrasting with his bronze skin, the warmth and intensity of his amber eyes, his strong nose and jawline, the shape of his body in those elegant blue clothes... Rex catches you quietly admiring him, and he tilts his head to one side curiously. You blush inmediately, and that gives him the answer to what you were really thinking. He smirks in a satisfied, seductive way you haven't seen in him before. The sight sends warmth and desire through your veins.

"Honey, why don't you take our dear Captain to visit the gardens?" your mother asks after dinner has finished and you've all moved to the salon. "Ashoka, dear, will you go with them? We'd like to have a word in private with Commander Cody here".

Your pulse quickens. You know your parents will take this moment alone with the head of the Fett family to discuss wedding arrangements.

Both you and Ashoka nod at her suggestion; and the three of you walk towards the gardens, Rex and you falling into a comfortable conversation while Ashoka follows you a few steps behind. Rex offers his arm to you; and you give him a little smile while you place your hand around his bicep. He asks you about the flowers around you and you lose yourself in your knowledge about them, explaining their origins and properties and pointing at your favorites here and there.

"Pink lilies" he remembers, pausing in front of them and examining the colorful flowers with a fond smile on his face. "I should have guessed you'd have your favorites here as well".

He bends down to further study them; and you can't keep it to yourself any longer.

"Captain..." you breathe out delicately, instantly calling his attention. "I... I..."

He patiently waits for you to finish, eyes holding a mix of curiosity and hope that makes your heart clench. This is it. This is your future husband and you... You can't be happier about it. He's so gentle, so considerate, so kind; attentive, confident, and oh, so handsome...

You muse up your courage and finish the sentence for him.

"I ended Sir Vizla's advances a few days ago. I'd like to accept your proposition of marriage, if it still stands".

Surprise is what his face shows first; then, it quickly morphs into happiness and tenderness. His eyes hold more warmth than ever before when he releases a pleased sigh.

"Oh, mesh'la... Of course it does. It would be an honour to be able to call you my wife".

The way he looks at you makes your heart burn. Your cheeks heat up while he closes the distance between the two of you; your eyes sparkling with eagerness when he slowly and very gently cups your face between his hands.

"May I kiss you?" He whispers quietly, eyes flickering down towards your lips.

You melt at this; your hands carefully making their way towards his shoulders.

"Please" you quickly accept, tilting your face up for him.

He caresses your cheeks with his thumbs softly before he slowly closes the distance and presses his lips against yours; a small, delicate first kiss. You sigh in delight and your body relaxes onto his; one of his strong arms reaching down to hold you against him while the other hand tugs you closer to deepen the kiss. It's unhurried and gentle, but passionate at the same time; it makes your nerves tingle and your desire to grow as seconds pass. He kisses the way he is; soft but firm, considerate but demanding. You forget your own name, your mind emptying at the attention of his lips.

When you're both forced to stop to breathe, Rex smiles and rests his forehead on yours, pushing gently. An involuntary smile makes its way to your face as you answer him fondly.

A sudden enthusiastic voice breaks the delicate silence of the night.

"Alright, can I hug you both now?" Ashoka almost jumps in excitement, coming to a stop besides you. "This is the best news, I'm so happy for you!"

Rex grins and you chuckle happily. You pull Ashoka into a welcoming hug; Rex observing with a fond smile.

Ashoka replicates Rex's euphoric grin.

"Oh, I can't wait to see our brother's reaction!" She chirps, almost bouncing excitedly.

You laugh and tilt your face up to look at Rex again. He gives you a tender smile before affectionately kissing your hair.

"They've been hearing me moping around talking about you since we started courting" he tells you quietly, chuckling. "I think they deserve to know".

You take the courage -and liberty- to tenderly caress his left cheek with your fingertips. To your surprise, a faint blush spreads through the captain's cheeks. It brings a soft smile to your face.

"I like your family" you admit to him, watching the positive impact your comment has on him. "You can tell them as soon as we get back, if you want".

When you return to your family house, a nod and a grin is all it takes for everyone to start celebrating and giving the both of you their best wishes and congratulations. You tightly hug your mother and father first. Then, you're swiped in a Fett hug; first by Fives -definitively the most loud and openly enthusiastic one- and Echo -who is more quiet but equally happy about it-, then Kix, Howzer and Gregor -Commander Wolffe had stayed back at home with the rest of the younger Fetts-. They're all so welcoming and truly happy for his brother and you, that you can't help but think you'd be the luckiest woman in the world if at some point in your life you'd be able to have your own family half the affectionate than his.

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PART 7. UNION

Your wedding looks and feels like a dream. It's a big celebration; society would talk about it for weeks, and your parent's don't skimp on expenses and don't dissapoint the high expectations everyone has on one of the richest families on Mandalore. Even Mandal'or Kryze is present with his shiny beskar'gam; the greatest honour one could only hope for, really.

When the golden doors opens and your father guides you to the royal armorer that will officiate the wedding, you discover that your soon-to-be-husband is also wearing his. Rex's armour is the 501st legion's blue; bucket clipped onto the belt that holds his kama. A rush of pride spreads through you at seeing him all soldiered up like this. Mandalore has always given great importance to akaan'ade -army- and aliit -family-; and you're about to form a new clan with him.

The hall that holds the wedding is nothing short of magnificent; flowers decorating every corner and cristal chandeliers demanding attention here and there. Half of nobility is here; as well as all of Rex's brothers and sisters, and other more distant relatives. Hera stands with his too soon-to-be-husband -a coruscanti named Kanan Jarrus who had quickly swiped out any other possible competition for your friend- behind your parents. And yet, even with all of this, your sole attention is focused uniquely on Rex.

His amber eyes are almost shining in the light of the salon. His posture is firm and self-assured; though he relaxes slightly upon seing you entering the room, a tender smile inmediately drawing in his handsome face. Your eyes never leave each others until you're both standing in front of the armorer and he starts the ceremony.

You're only a tiny bit nervous when you recite the mandalorian vows in front of everyone. You're confident on your decision; your heart atuned with Rex's. Hearing him saying those vows warms your insides; and when you turn to look at each other again, afterwards, you feel like you can't keep all your emotions at bay. Your eyes crystallize, but you don't let the tears fall down your face. Rex gently cups your cheeks in his rough hands and join your foreheads in a delicate, heartfelt Keldabe kiss. The public starts clapping -and there's some whistling and cheering probably coming from Fives, if you had to guess-; and soon you find yourself in the middle of a hundread of congratulations and small repetitive chatts here and there.

You progressively grow more impatient and nervous the longer the celebration extends. Finally, some hours later, it is time for the newlyweds to head to their new residence; and mother and father both say their goodbyes for now while Rex helps you step into the carriage that would take both of you to your new home -a gift from your parents, one of the Everhart's properties-. You had once been there before; when you were smaller, a child, on one summer vacation. You remember the house -and the landscape around it- being beautiful, and not too far away from the rest of the town by horse.

Neither Rex nor you can keep your hands to yourself in the short trip there. He asks to kiss you as soon as you're both sitting down on the carriage, away from others gossips and gazes; and you inmediately grant his wishes, nodding and surrendering to his lips. It starts slow and soft; but when he moves his peppering kisses from your face down to the curve of your neck, a small pleased sound of yours sets him on fire. He goes back to your lips, kissing you with more passion and impatience this time; and you cling to his shoulders with your fingertips, tilting your face upwards for him to take and take. He has you reduced to a whimpering, hot mess in just a matter of minutes. When his hands temptatively graze the sides of your breasts, you can't help but arch and whine over his lips. Rex groans and presses his forehead against yours, panting out of breath.

"Sorry, mesh'la" he whispers, voice lower than usual. "I know this is not exactly apropriate, and I probably should learn to be more patient... But Manda, cyar'ika, you're such a pretty sight I can barely contain myself".

You blush and close your eyes, breathing in and trying to calm your speeding heart in this Keldabe. You give him a smile.

"It's okay, ner riduur. I understand".

Rex groans again and squeezes his hands over your hips.

"Stop tempting me like that" he mumbles staring at your lips.

You chuckle quietly.

"I'm not!" you happily laugh.

Rex steals a quick kiss. He nuzzles his nose with yours affectionately.

"Totally are".

You laugh and kiss him again. You'll soon become addicted to it.

That first night you're a mess of excitement, nerves and worry. Of course, you've never been intimate before; and the thought of not looking good or doing something wrong scares you. Rex notices this as soon as you start playing with your own hands upon entering your new bedroom; and gently soothes your worries. He softly tells you there's nothing you could really do wrong in your bed; that he just wants to share his affection with you, to touch you, hold you, make you feel good, and that he doesn't expect anything other than you enjoying yourself. The fact that he tells you, in his wedding night, that you don't even have to have sex with him yet if you're not comfortable and that perhaps you'd feel safer once you'd shared some nights or weeks just innocently sleeping with each other melts your heart and makes it easier to push through your initial discomfort and give yourself to him.

You're almost constantly burning in half embarassment half shyness throughout the first half of it. You're relieved to see that the rush Rex seemed to have back in the carriage has dissolved now; he's patient and gentle, telling you what to do and what to expect, and the way he encourages you and talks you through everything is one of the most unexpected sexiest things you have ever heard.

He undresses you slowly, caressing the naked skin that shows with reverent fingertips; shivers running up and down your legs and spine. He kneels down on the floor to help you step out of your heels. You brace yourself on one of his shoulders; and he gently, sensually kisses your thighs and knees. He looks up at you while he does it, and it makes you weak.

You make a soft sound with your throat; and Rex smiles. He stands back up again and tugs your chin between his thumb and index for a long kiss. Now just in your white underware, you shiver involuntarily; pressing your body against his without even noticing what you're doing or asking. He sighs and softly redirects you towards the bed til you're sitting on it.

In front of you, the handsome captain opens the seals of his armour and plate by plate stacks it on the floor besides him. His movements are slow and confident, while his expresion vulnerable at the same time; and you watch him, enthraced. He tugs the long sleeved black shirt of his blacks over his head; and your eyes freely roam through each muscle and scar revealed,devoring the sight in front of you. Your core burns.

"Rex..." you call him, almost in a begging tone.

He breathes heavily and takes a few steps towards you until he's standing right in front of you; his legs caging yours -pressed together impatiently-.

"Yes, mesh'la?" he asks you patiently, gently, and you squirm right where you are.

"I... I..." you want to tell him everything. Want to let him now how beautiful he is, how much you want him, need him. How he's making you feel. How happy you are of now being his. How excited you are of your new future together. You want to tell him this and more, and yet, you can only try to convein it together in a heartfelt, teary "More".

Rex smiles fondly, one hand coming up to caress your cheek.

"Let's get this off of you, cyare" he whispers, and soon you're completely naked in front of him. "Lay down and open your legs for me, darling".

You blush and comply in silence; breathing heavy and eyes locked on Rex.

They inevitably close when he hops onto the bed as well, knees on the space between your legs, and his mouth latches onto your neck, sucking gently at the skin; shifting to a new spot after a few seconds to not leave too many marks on your neck. Then, his mouth trails a wet path towards your breasts; and you whimper while he plays with them, both with his hands and his lips, moaning and arching towards him when he carefully closes his teeth around a nipple. You tug at his short hair and push your body against his.

"I have you" he whispers, his kisses trailing down your sternum and stomach towards your hips. He caresses your sides with his fingertips. "I'm going to kiss you here, okay?" he says, one hand grazing the inside of your thighs and swipping against your growing wetness carefully. You whine and squirm below him. Rex pecks your hip bone. "It will probably feel good, but do tell me if you want to stop or don't really like it".

"O-okay" you stutter, and Rex then pushes your knees further apart, getting comfortable between your legs before he's kissing you there, where the fire grows and burns, and you tense momentarily before you're transforming into a puddle next. "O-Oh... Oh, Rex..."

It does feel great. His wet tongue slides between your folds, caressing you gently, coming up to tease your nub from time to time. He's slow and cautious at first; amber eyes looking up at you and checking your reactions attentively. Once he sees you're really enjoying yourself, and your hips start to squirm impatiently under his attention, he groans and closes his eyes, working his tongue over and inside of you and relishing in your moans and taste.

"R-rex" you call him, feeling a wave of pleasure slowly growing inside of you.

He hums and slowly pushes a finger inside of you; just holding it there while you whimper and clench around it. It's only a finger, but it already feels so good, so much. Your inner walls hug him involuntarily again, and he groans thinking on how that would feel on him.

"I... I'm..." you try to tell him barely a few seconds after that, your mind too lost in pleasure to find the way to word it.

Rex kisses you one last time before he's slowly pumping his finger in and out of you, golden eyes searching you. Understanding, fondness, and desire are mixed in his gaze.

"I know, cyar'ika. Just let go for me" he encourages you, mantaining eye contact while he opens his mouth again, sticks his tongue out, and gently and firmly strokes your nub around with it.

"Rex!" you moan his name, your hand flying to his hair while the other closes around the bedsheets, your pleasure exploding in a million of nerves and colours. You squeeze your eyes shut while you throw your head backwards, core clenching around his finger, orgasm spreading through your body.

Rex smiles proudly, lapping your aftershocks and then kissing your pelvic bone affectionately. His cock is throbing inside of his pants; and he can't help himself and push it down against the matress, trying to find some relief.

"Shh, just like that" he pecks you a few more times, left hand caressing your hip. "You're beautiful. I've got you, cyare".

You relax against the bed; and Rex pulls his finger out of you, carefully moving upwards until he's laying down on top of you, slotted between your legs. Your cheeks redenned upon feeling his bulge pressed against you; but your core tightens again, and you bite your lip with a new wave of want and desire rushing through your veins.

"You okay?" he asks you softly, caressing your cheek and searching for the truth with his amber eyes.

You smile at him.

"Yes" you answer honestly, pecking his nose before confessing in a whisper. "I've never felt that good before, not even when I've... When I've tried finding pleasure myself".

Rex's smile can only be defined as a radiant satisfied grin.

"Well, I'll be happy to make you feel good whenever you want, mesh'la" he answers, and you both chuckle quietly.

You kiss him again.

"Rex, I..." you're shy, and you don't know how long it will take for you to share your more or less dirty thoughts freely with him.

Fortunately for you, he guesses them quickly.

"You want more, cyar'ika?" he asks, gently moving his hips on top of yours and giving you both some very welcomed friction. "Want to try taking me inside of you?"

You squeeze your eyes shut and nod. Rex kisses your forehead and stands up on the floor, getting rid of his pants and underware. You watch -half hungrily, half scared- at the way his cock bobs.

"Will it hurt much?" you ask hesitantly.

You've heard so many different things about sex you no longer know what to believe in.

Rex smiles at your innocent question. His hand slowly comes down to stroke his lenght twice.

"It's different for everyone, or so I've been told... Usually it can hurt or at least be a bit uncomfortable at first, yes. But not too much; not if the man knows to wait and cares about the woman's well-being. And I care about you, mesh'la" he soothes you, looking at you fondly. "I'll move very slow until i'm seathed inside of you. And if you need to stop at any point and just breathe and get used to it for a bit, you'll tell me and I'll wait. Okay?"

You let out a small breath of relief.

"Okay" you agree, gratitude and affection swimming inside of you at his consideration and words. "Thank you, Rex".

He pecks your lips and then re-acomodates your body under him; pushing your knees wider to the sides and bending them so he has better access to your entrance. He taps his weeping hardness against you a few times and slides his length over you, hand cupping the side of your face, giving you time to get used to the movement and both of you being this intimate. The friction of his cock feels delicious over your slippery folds; and you tilt your hips towards him, asking for more impatiently. Rex smiles and nods; one hand dissapearing between your bodies to position his hardness right over your entrance; the very tip grazing your hole.

"I'm going to start pushing inside" he warns you, voice calm, and eyes locked on your face. "Tell me if you want to stop, mesh'la"

You nod eagerly. You've never had sex before and yet you feel like you'll die if you don't get to have him inside of you in the next few minutes. You want him that much.

His cock pierces you; and you can't help but clench tightly arround him, eyes falling shut with a pained whimper. It feels so big; it feels so full, so much.

Your whole body has tensed; and even if you don't say anything, Rex stops pushing in, and kisses your cheek.

"Okay?" He asks, waiting patiently. His forearms are braced on either side of your head, holding his weight.

It's only when he stops when you notice how strong you're sinking your nails into his shoulders; and you instantly stop clinging to Rex, guiltily.

"Sorry" you whisper with shattering breaths, overwhelmed. "So..."

Rex smiles softly.

"You can do that if it helps you cope with this new feelings better" he gently pushes his forehead against yours. "I don't mind".

You sigh and your hands make their way back to the back of his shoulders; this time with your fingers splayed over his warm skin.

It's only a matter of time before you've grown used to it; and the short scare resulting from the pain and the novelty of the situation receeds. Rex finishes slowly pushing all the way in; and the next minute is passed between kisses and caresses. Then, Rex starts to rock his hips gently; your mouth hanging open in a mix between confusion and pleasure and just the tiniest bit of pain. His patience pays off; soon even that dissapears, and you're left feeling nothing but overwhelming joy.

"Please" you moan, tigthening your hold on him.

Rex groans and snaps his hips against yours. You whine and ask for more of those.

"Don't want to hurt you" he mumbles, half lost in pleasure and desire, half concerned.

You pant bellow him.

"Please Rex" you beg him, half lidded eyes swimming in ecstasy. "Give me more please, I'm okay..."

Rex squeezes his eyes shut and moans, giving up on his self control and speeding up his movements, tugging your hips to his and pounding inside of you so deep and raw it turns your voice into a constant whimper-whine-moan-silent open mouth cadence.

You lose all concept about time and outside reality while Rex fucks you like this. His cock sliding inside of you feels incredible, and so does the friction of his pubic bone over your nub; bringing you closer and closer to a second orgasm. Rex pants over your lips, ocasionally stealing and demanding a kiss or two, hands alternating between giving him better suport over you or moving to caress your body and face or squeeze and hold your breasts. You arch and present all of yourself for him to take. And he does it expertly; hips strongly snapping against yours and pushing you into a mind-blowing orgasm that has you clenching your walls tightly around him.

"F-fuck!" He curses for the first time, and watching him lose his composture with you is one of the greatest gifts. His breathing grows heavier, and his movements sloppier. "So close, so close, so close" he chants, brow furrowing, and you kiss him passionately while recovering from your own rush of pleasure.

"Let go, ner riduur, finish with me" you whisper to him, cheeks on fire but wanting to help him find his culmination as well.

Rex whimpers; then groans, tenses, and cums. You feel his warm seed inside of you; the knowledge making you clench and squirm. He sighs and drops his now relaxed body slowly on top of yours; breathless. With his eyes closed and a happy satisfied hum, he nuzles his face against your neck.

"Forgive me for not finishing outside" he mumbles after some seconds of peaceful comfortable silence. "We haven't even discussed children before".

You chuckle and caress his spine with your fingertips. Rex nuzzles closer, almost like a puppy. He's so affectionate after this.

"It would be nice to have a few months to adapt to our new joined life before starting to try" you admit. "But if I happen to get pregnant before that it wouldn't be a big deal. I'm very fond of you already, and I know our children would want for nothing. And I want to have a big family".

"Like mine?" He asks, resurfacing from your neck and leaving his face inches from yours now.

You laugh quietly.

"Mm. Well, I think you're a bit too many for my taste" you smile, and before the hope is able to melt away from his eyes you add "But I think we could stop at half".

Rex grins. His softening length is still seathed inside of you, and you can't help but think on how this feels even more intimate than the whole ordeal. Somehow, your perception of the captain has changed as well; you feel closer to him now, he feels more familiar to you. You notice he looks younger right now; and even more attractive in his disheveled state.

"Six is a good number" Rex agrees, kissing your shoulder affectionately. "I'd be worried if you'd have to go into labor more times anyways".

You remember the fate of his mother; and you hug him tightly.

"I won't leave you" you can't help but whisper to him.

Rex sighs and kisses you softly before staring into your eyes. It feels nice, being skin to skin.

"I think I could be very happy with you" he confesses, the moment turning vulnerable and delicate. "I'm enthraced with you already; and I think I might be half in love with you too".

You blink your tears away.

"Don't get me emotional now, sir Fett" you say in good humour, then leaving jokes aside and caressing his cheeks fondly. "I think I might be as well, Rex".

Your lips join again, and a fullfilling sensation of peace melts each of your muscles into a puddle of relaxation and happiness. Rex finally slips out; but he doesn't move away or grow any colder towards you, carefully finding a place to lay comfortably in bed besides your body instead and affectionately tugging you closer.

You go to sleep feeling safe and happy; and the next morning, when you wake up before him and watch Rex sleep peacefully and naked in front of you, with the sunlight giving a warm glow to his beautiful brown skin, you can't help but caress him and think with a smile on your face that you definitly made the right choice. You softly kiss his lips; and he sighs contently before squeezing your body closer to his, humming affectionately.

"Good morning, riduur" he greets you, eyes still closed and voice full of sleep.

You lay down with him and relax again.

"Morning, mesh'la".

You find your courage easier today; and you're rewarded by the small shy smile on his still tired face.

If last night and this morning are any indication of how the rest of your married life with Rex Fett would go, then you're sure you'd be the luckiest woman in the world. But even when it isn't –for a long marriage rarely doesn't face problems and disagreements– you're happy knowing that your riduur is someone who you can talk and work with; instead of against.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Taraaa! PLEASE LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU'VE THOUGHT! This one took so long... And seing others reaction really helps me feel motivated to keep publishing. Likes and reblogs are very much appreciated too!

With this work we have the third prompt completed for the 100 followers celebration –you can read the others in the masterlist below–. 7 left!

I'll be writing the PORNSTAR AU with HUNTER next, and so many more, so stay tuned!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in anything. Remember you can find this set of stories under the tag "100blueprompt" or "100blueceleb" !!

Xx,

Blue.

Main masterlist (so many other sw stories) here:

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sarahowritesostucky · 2 months ago

Text

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Rated: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6883

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, enemies to lovers, nobility/royalty au, alternate history, dom/sub elements, beta bucky, anal sex, oral sex, hurt/comfort, first time, age gap, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, wedding night, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

Story Masterlist

20. An Inquiry

This Chapter: They’ve only been married for a matter of months, after all. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches.

As Congress enters its fall session, Steve gets very busy with work. He’s away from the house most of the time, leaving early in the mornings and staying at his office in the city until late at night. He rarely makes it home for lunch anymore, and many suppers are missed as well, the servants wrapping up a plate to be reheated hours later.

In the mornings, Bucky hates waking up alone in their bed, the heat of Steve’s large body already faded from the sheets. He knows that his husband is a Senator, is important, but that doesn’t make lonely meals or going to bed by himself any easier. Steve never initiates sex anymore, and it’s almost hurtful, even though Bucky knows it’s because he’s so busy, so tired. There’s little opportunity for Bucky to try and initiate sex either. He’s a heavier sleeper than Steve. Oftentimes the Alpha will slip into bed one night and right back out the next morning, Bucky having slept soundly through both events.

All of a sudden, Bucky misses the intimacy that’d been growing between them as new husbands. He feels, well … neglected.

“I’m tired, Baby,” Steve will say, when Bucky does manage to wake up in the night, when he turns over and spoons up against his Headship’s sleeping warmth, tries to slip a hand over Steve’s waist and down the front of his pajama pants. “Tomorrow, Babe,” Steve will promise, and rearrange Bucky in his arms with a sleepy, close-eyed smile.

But those promises never materialize, and Bucky still wakes alone more often than not.

It’s just the lifestyle, he knows. Steve is a Senator. He’s dealing with important bills, working hard on legislation and coalitions, all for the good of their country. He’s down to DC every other week, and Bucky knows that his husband hates the traveling, especially when it’s only for a day or two of endless bickering sessions and snail’s-pace progress.

“Long train trips have a great way of pointing out how old I am,” he tells Bucky wryly, but he’s only thirty, and Bucky makes fun of him for complaining.

“Right, because you’re so ancient.”

“Hey, you don’t know,” Steve gives a lopsided smile. “The benches are godawful.”

“Come upstairs with me,” Bucky cajoles one morning, taken by Steve’s expression. The alpha is dressed for travel and surrounded by his baggage in the foyer, waiting for Jarvis to bring the car around to take him to Grand Central Station. Bucky grabs his hand and gives a pull towards the stairs. “Real quick? It won’t take ten minutes.” He’s envisioning Steve pressed up against their bedroom wall and Bucky on his knees, a hasty suckjob while he jerks himself off. He offers Steve a saucy wink as he tugs on his hand. “C’mon, I want to give you a proper send off.”

Steve laughs and extricates himself from Bucky’s grasp, giving good-natured excuses about how he won’t be able to control himself from taking things further, and how he’ll most certainly miss his train. He brushes him off, and Bucky has to pretend that it doesn’t hurt his feelings when the only intimacy he receives from his Headship is a placating kiss on his cheek.

“Be good,” Steve says, turning for the door. “I’ll see you in a few days.”

Bucky pouts, put out. He supposes the honeymoon phase is over.

One of Bucky’s jobs as Steve’s Spouse is to sort through the daily mail. As a senatorial household, they receive quite a lot. Sharon brings it to him after lunch most days, and Bucky sits at a little writing desk that’s in the back parlor and sorts through it all. The bulk of the mail is business related for Steve’s position, and Bucky knows not to go opening that. He gives those sorts of things back to Sharon for Steve to open at his leisure.

Bucky receives letters from his mother weekly, and also a fair number of social inquiries. There are weekly requests from other Society betas and omegas, asking Bucky to attend their teas and luncheons, their garden parties and charities. Bucky wouldn’t know how to get through something as tedious as a garden party, finding the prospect of such frivolous events to be dreadfully irksome. He has contemplated joining a charity board or two, but the rest are all firm impossibilities.

He prides himself on the fact that he’s gotten quite good at penning the most eloquent and polite refusals, so it’s quite the occasion when he opens a letter one afternoon with a specific social request to which he has no idea how to respond. He’s just set the letter opener down after opening the blush stained stationary that’s been addressed to:

The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers.

At first he’s only wondering about what sort of person would select pale pink stationary on which to write their correspondence, but that thought is wiped from his mind once he actually reads what the letter has to say:

Dear Sir, My name is May Marceau. You do not know me. Indeed, we have never yet had the chance to meet. But I am hoping that may soon change. I am writing on behalf of my beloved nephew and ward, Peter Parker, a boy of fine character and genteel disposition whom my wife and I have raised as our own since he was very young. He is now an eligible omega of Society by way of my wife, whose family has served for three generations as the elected of New York’s congressional district fourteen (Queens). Peter is a kind and obedient young man, with a keen wit and engaging demeanor. He is accomplished in both the fine arts and homemaking tasks, but is not overly fond of the events of the season where a young fellow such as he would be most likely to meet interested suitors. Given this, I have taken it upon myself to make inquiries on his behalf. I read of your marriage this past summer to Senator Rogers, and I do hope you received our family’s card of congratulations for you and your new husband. I hope married life is treating you both well. Personally, I know only a little of Lord Rogers and yourself, but I have seen you at Society functions, and have heard only the most flattering things about your Headship and how he comports himself with his work. My wife and I are in agreement that he is undoubtedly a good man, and we must deduce the same about you. That brings me to my long-delayed point, which is of course to ask that both you and your husband consider the prospect of my nephew Peter becoming your Third. He is a sweet and comely boy who would make a fine addition to an esteemed House such as yours. I do hope you will consider alerting Senator Rogers to this inquiry, and perhaps soon a chaperoned meeting might be arranged. I will wait with much hope for your reply. Respectfully, May Marceau.

Bucky sits there at the parlor’s writing desk, dumbfounded for quite a while. He rereads the letter multiple times, trying to make sense of his feelings about it. He knows he shouldn’t be surprised. This is the way that these things are done, after all. Bucky’s own mother would have sent a similar letter to Steve’s beta father, back when she first inquired. The idea of it brings heat to his face, as he thinks about how the beta man would’ve then brought the letter directly to Steve himself, as Lady Rogers had already passed away and Steve assumed the family’s Seat. Bucky figures he should be grateful, at least, that it’s tradition for these inquiries to be sent to beta Spouses. That means he’s seeing this first, instead of Steve. And, technically, he has discretion on what to do now.

He flips the stupidly pink envelope back over, rereading how it was addressed only to him. Not to Steve, not to him and Steve. Just to Bucky. But even so, the line reads: The Beta Spouse of Capt. Senator Steven G. Rogers, Lord James B. Rogers. Bucky is defined as belonging to his Headship, and he knows that he’s expected to tell Steve about this inquiry. Hiding it would be … sneaky at best, punishable at worst. And Bucky really isn’t over that one time Steve took his belt to him during their honeymoon, so …

He wonders what Steve will say.

Insecurity flutters in his stomach as he imagines Steve deciding that they need to be polite, that they need to arrange a chaperoned meeting with this omega named Peter. Marceau—Bucky isn’t familiar with the name, though that’s not a surprise. There are dozens of elected in New York, and they all have their own children. They aren’t common, but they certainly aren’t High Society like Bucky and Steve are. Congressional districts’ elected positions are frequently kept by the same family throughout generations, but they aren’t inherited like Senatorial Seats are, so the family names do sometimes change. It would be an exercise in futility to attempt to keep track of them all.

Mrs. Marceau made sure to emphasize in her letter that her nephew has been raised in their household and is considered to be just like a son—which indicates to Bucky that the boy’s real parents must have been of common origins. That doesn’t truly matter to him, but he winds up thinking rather snotty things about it anyway, just because this is his Alpha that’s being inquired about, and he isn’t inclined to be generous in thought.

He wonders how old Peter is, what he looks like. Sometimes inquiries are sent with a little picture included as additional enticement (and good God, Bucky hopes his own mother hadn’t included a picture in her inquiry), but there is none here, not even when he curiously rechecks the envelope for something missed. Bucky purses his lips. Maybe Peter’s not as ‘comely’ as his aunt suggests.

It’s a shallow, bitter little snipe of a thought that makes Bucky feel petty and foolish as soon as he has it. He scoffs at himself and begins to stuff the paper back into the envelope, unsure when exactly he’ll bring it up with Steve. They’ve only been married for a matter of months. It seems almost insultingly soon for the mothers of Society to be sending in their requests to make enviable matches. Bucky wonders if Steve’s fathers had felt the same way, when House Barnes’ request was received just after Sarah Rogers had died and Steve assumed the family’s Seat …

Sharon clears her throat from right beside Bucky, nearly making him jump out of his chair. “Christ!” he hisses, feeling overwhelmed. He buries his face in his hand. “Sharon. Jeez.”

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all. She cocks her hip and holds out her hand. “Steve’s mail?”

Bucky sighs and grabs the pile of letters that he’s laid aside separately. “Here.”

Sharon’s eyes flit over the hastily re-stuffed pink envelope, but they don’t linger. “Hm,” she says, and walks away, likely headed for Steve’s office. Bucky wants to snap at her to act like a goddamn servant and not say “Hm” or raise her eyebrows like that or call Steve ‘Steve’ instead of his title. But he doesn’t say a thing. He knows he’s just being grumpy.

… And he’s pretty sure that Sharon would low-grade poison his meals if he talked to her like that.

The first time Bucky witnesses his husband pleasuring himself, he’s so shocked that he doesn’t know what to do. It’s in the evening—after dinner, but not so late as to be time to head off to bed. Steve had finished his meal at dinner and then left, requesting private time to work in his office and not be disturbed. But Bucky thinks that he might entice him into stopping his work for the evening and enjoying a nightcap together. Maybe they can even fuck in the office, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

That’s not what happens.

Steve is in his desk chair when Bucky opens the door. His eyes are closed, so he doesn’t notice Bucky, and Bucky freezes in place with his mouth agape. He can’t actually see anything, as Steve’s desk blocks his lower half from view, but it’s very obvious what he’s doing. His face is pinched and his jaw is slack, lips parted and shoulder moving in that telltale way …

Feeling his blood rush to multiple places, Bucky shuts the door and scampers away and doesn’t tell Steve what he walked in on. Then in the succeeding days he winds up feeling hurt, of all things. He convinces himself that it isn’t a very good sign, the way his Headship is behaving. First Steve turns his advances away each night, claiming stress and exhaustion, and now Bucky finds him resorting to harried self-pleasure! He fumes over it, worrying that perhaps it’s something to do with him, that something has changed and that Steve doesn’t want him sexually any more.

His frustration is compounded by the fact that he has to begrudgingly admit to himself that he was turned on by the sight of Steve touching himself like that. He shouldn’t find it so arousing, because Steve probably wasn’t even thinking of him while he did it. He was probably thinking of someone else, maybe one of their servants, or some delicate Society omega. Steve is clearly a good man and loving husband, but perhaps he’s oriented the same way Bucky’s father is. Perhaps he truly desires omegas, and Bucky is merely filling a spot for tradition’s sake.

He can’t bring himself to tell Steve about these fears. He feels silly and petty for having them. He decides to keep trying his best to be a good Spouse for Steve, as that’s all he can really do. He reconsiders the possibility of an engagement, thinking that maybe a Third in their marriage taking all of Steve’s attention would be better than the alternative of growing resentment and an eventual affair.

Bucky’s father had had lots of affairs, had even kept a household with a common woman. It’s an arrangement that many alphas in Society have, Bucky knows. An open secret that nobody talks about. Steve’s promised that he would never do such a thing, but alphas have needs, and Bucky is beginning to worry that he’s not enough to meet Steve’s. As long as he can keep Steve’s attentions contained well enough—enough to prevent an affair, to prevent something like what Bucky’s father had done—maybe Bucky can be satisfied. Maybe he’ll have to be. Steve has all the control in their marriage, after all. He might not give Bucky the choice.

Another night, after a dinner that they eat separately because Steve’s still working away in his office, Bucky sidles up behind him when they’ve dressed for bed and tries to entice him into some intimacy. “I miss feeling your touch,” he murmurs into the bend of Steve’s neck, inhaling his scent in a manner so obvious that Steve can’t possibly miss it. “Husband?”

Steve groans and turns around. He smiles tiredly and kisses Bucky on the forehead, the hug he provides far from what Bucky had in mind. “It’s been such a long day, Buck. Snuggle me instead?”

Bucky wants to scoff, but he can’t manage it. Steve’s too sweet in the moment, telling him that he loves him and coaxing him into the bed, both of their nightclothes on and no sex to be had. “Sorry, Honey,” he mumbles into Bucky’s hair. “Tomorrow, m’promise.”

But the next day, Steve’s back on the train to DC.

Bucky’s feeling morose and petulant and too much in his head when, two days later, the photographs from the wedding arrive.

It’s raining heavily outside and has been all day (a fitting match to Bucky’s mood), and Pietro comes into the parlor soaked to the bone. Bucky’s eyes widen but Pietro just waves off his attempt to get up from his moping and do something to help dry him off. “Don’t worry,” he says good naturedly. “Towels in the kitchen.” He lays his parcel down on the room’s coffee table with a smile. “Picked these up at the photographer’s studio.”

“What?” Bucky’s asking, even as Pietro hurries from the room, his clothes making sad, soggy sounds as he goes. Bucky sighs and gets up from his chair to go take a look at the package that Pietro somehow managed to keep dry. Inside the large envelope are over a dozen photographs, and Bucky’s heart beats a little faster as he realizes what he’s looking at.

It’s funny. He hasn’t really thought about the day of their wedding since it happened. He’s a very in the moment kind of guy, and with their weeks-long honeymoon and return to New York, setting up house and falling into a routine, Bucky hasn’t spent much time reminiscing about the actual day they got married.

The first photograph is of Bucky and Steve standing outside the front doors of the church, hands clasped and smiling. They both look shy in the picture, but Bucky doesn’t fail to notice how Steve’s smile, however small, looks more real than his own. Steve looks like he was genuinely happy in that moment. The idea that Steve had actually wanted the marriage, even back then, makes Bucky soften a little despite himself.

He sinks down onto the sofa and runs his thumb over the edge of the picture, looking at how his own timid smile looks far less convincing. Mostly Bucky just thinks he looks stressed in the picture, and that makes him set the first photo aside. He hates to think that his attitude that day might’ve ruined the pictures, that for the rest of their married lives, any time Steve wants to look back and reminisce, he’ll have to see Bucky’s pained smiles in every photo.

He flips to the next picture, which is a posed portrait with him and Steve and both of their parents. They’re arranged the way the photographer had told them to be, and Bucky likes this one a little better than the last, even though nobody’s smiling. They’d been told not to, as it isn’t customary for such a formal portrait, and therefore no sad or anxious emotions can be deduced on anyone’s face, let alone Bucky’s. He thinks that he actually looks quite handsome in his suit and well-styled hair. And Steve, well. Steve looks incredibly dashing. Bucky hums lightly and sets that photograph aside as well, being careful with his handling of the glossy paper. They’ll have to have all of these framed, he thinks; order copies, as his mother is sure to request some, perhaps Steve’s fathers as well.

There are a few more of the formal style portraits, some of just Bucky and Steve, some with Bucky’s sisters included as well. Bucky is pleased to find that the photographer captured a few candid shots of their reception back at Steve’s parents’ house, everything less formalized and more jovial. Natasha is in two of them, and Bucky instantly misses her. He tells himself that he’ll have to arrange a visit soon. He hasn’t heard much from his friend since the wedding, and he wonders what she’s been up to.

Probably having more of a life than Bucky ever will. He tries not to be bitter about that. He cares deeply for Natasha and knows she deserves a full life. He promises himself that he’ll be happy for her, when she comes to visit and tells him all about her plans: what University she’s decided on, where her pre-university travels are going to take her, what subject she’s leaning towards for a future career path. Bucky won’t be bitter. He won’t.

The last photograph is another posed one, and Bucky’s struck by the keen memory of when they’d taken it. The photographer had directed him and Steve into the Rogers’ study, where there was a large portrait of Steve’s parents, posed in the traditional manner for a complete marriage: Sarah Rogers standing, Gregory Rogers seated in a chair at her side, and Joseph Rogers kneeling at both of their feet; Gregory’s one wristband on display as he reached up and lightly touched his wife’s arm, Sarah’s hand resting down on Joseph’s shoulder, her wedding rings right next to where his collar sat visible on his neck.

Given that the Rogers’ marriage had completed just over three decades ago, it’s a painted portrait rather than photographed. The three of them had posed solemn-faced, but still managed to look very happy. A satisfied triad. Joseph, in particular, looked very content in his kneeling position, expression close to beaming. Having met Steve’s two fathers and seen photographs of them with their late wife, Bucky knew straight away that it was an amazingly lifelike rendering. The artist had done well in capturing their love.

Of course, that’d only made it more awkward for Bucky on the day of his and Steve’s wedding, when they had to pose just in front of the portrait of Steve’s parents, directed by the photographer to echo the traditional positions of alpha and beta Spouse. Bucky remembers having had a few glasses of wine by then, and he’d been peevish at being made to sit in the chair next to Steve, at being ordered about and told to make sure his jacket sleeve rode up enough to showcase his wristband as he touched Steve’s arm.

“It’s just one photo,” Steve had admonished him at the time, imploring Bucky with his eyes to behave and just get through it. Bucky had acquiesced—but not without a good eye roll or two. Luckily, he’d schooled his expression properly before the photographer snapped the shot.

Now, Bucky bites his lip as he examines the photo of him and Steve. They look … like a suitably married couple. The intent of the photo is traditional: to highlight the lack of an omega Spouse kneeling at his and Steve’s feet. It’s a “one day” sort of photo, one that they’ll show to their future Third and hang next to the portrait that’ll be taken of all three of them, once their marriage is complete. They’ll smile and reminisce, and Steve’ll say things like, “Oh, look back at when Bucky and I first met. Can’t believe we didn’t have you, my Darling. Now we’re complete. Isn’t it so wonderful?”

That’s the idea, anyway. Couples are supposed to yearn for and search out their Third until they find them, then rejoice at having attained the domestic ideal of a Triad. Bucky decides he likes this photograph the very least of the bunch. He sets it aside and stacks all the others back on top of it, sliding them into the envelope and abandoning them there. He’ll show them to Steve when (or if) the alpha ever returns home from work on time. Steve practically lives in his office these days, so Bucky’s not exactly motivated to make it a priority to cater to him. He returns to his chair by the window and stares out at the rain, thinking about the inquiry from the other day, from May Marceau about her nephew.

If Nat were here, he could ask her to do some investigating, find out who the omega is, what he’s like. Natasha has a keen talent for such things. Bucky misses her all over again and wishes that she was there with him to hash out the issue. She’d commiserate, he thinks. She’d agree that it’s definitely too fucking soon for social climbing parents to be sending in their inquiries. Maybe she’d even back Bucky up on not telling Steve about it.

He hasn’t yet. He feels a little guilty about that, but pushes it away with a petulant reminder that it’s more Steve’s fault than his. The alpha’s never home to talk to anyways. Bucky sits there and grumps about it. He knows Steve has work, that he’s miles more important than Bucky is or ever will be, but surely he could at least make more of an effort to be close with one another? Surely if he tried harder they could have the occasional breakfast together, or dinner, or Steve could make an attempt to have sex with him like they used to. It’s been weeks.

Bucky wonders if Steve would make the effort if he had an omega waiting at home for him. That thought sits in his stomach like sour grapes, but Bucky can’t shake it. Would Steve be more eager if their marriage was complete? Bucky knows it’s something Steve wants one day. He knows his Headship wants a family with children. As a male beta, Bucky can’t give him that. But an omega could.

An omega like Peter.

Bucky thinks of maybe telling Steve about the inquiry, just to see what his reaction is, if his face lights up or not. Maybe Steve thinks about these things more than Bucky knows, maybe he goes into the city for work and sees omegas out and about with their chaperones and wishes that one of them were his. Maybe he thinks about making love to an omega, when he touches himself behind Bucky’s back.

Scowling at his sullen train of thought, Bucky shoves up from the sofa. “Snap out of it,” he mutters, because he’s had enough of himself. He really does need some company. He can’t keep sitting here idly day in and day out, overthinking everything. Even if he can’t stomach the tea parties and other insipid invitations of his fellow Society Spouses, there are other options. He’ll arrange a visit with Natasha, he decides, striding out into the hallway. And he’ll telephone instead of write. No sense wasting time with the post. His dour mood can’t take the delay.

The second time Bucky catches his husband pleasuring himself, he doesn’t back away.

It’s late. Bucky’s been woken from sleep by the sound of the bathroom door closing lightly. He sits up in the bed and blinks blearily, eyes adjusting to the darkness and then making sense of the shapes of suitcases he can see sitting on the bedroom floor. Steve is back. Sleepy as he is, Bucky’s heart quickens in excitement. This latest trip lasted longer than normal, almost five full days. He’s missed his husband and is eager to see him.

A noise sounds, and Bucky’s eyes dart over to the bathroom door. It’s closed, but there’s a faint light coming from underneath, as though Steve has lit just one of the gas lamps inside the bathroom. Bucky slides out of bed and pads over to the door, intending to go in and surprise Steve with a hug. He only gets the door open part way before he’s freezing in place.

Steve is standing at the vanity, hunched over a little. He’s got one hand on the marble countertop, propping himself up, and his other hand is … oh. Bucky swallows heavily, his belly swirling and pelvis tightening in arousal at the sight of Steve touching himself.

His eyes are closed and he’s breathing open-mouthed as he braces against the counter and pumps his cock in fast strokes. It’s all very frantic, hurried, like he’s trying to get it over with quickly. He’s still dressed, with his shirttail pulled loose and his collar undone, both sleeves pushed up to his elbows and his fly open in the front where he’s pulled himself out and is furtively jerking off.

Bucky stares at the tight, focused motions of Steve’s fist working right at the head, appreciating his strong forearm, its dusting of hair and flexing tendons. It’s so sexy, so masculine. Steve’s got big hands, the veins prominent underneath the skin, his grip strong as he tugs on his cock. Bucky can’t peel his eyes away as he stands there and watches, a boner forming dizzyingly fast beneath his sleep clothes.

God, Steve’s beautiful when he’s feeling pleasure. And the spectacle of him giving it to himself has got Bucky hard within seconds. There’s an element of shame to this as well, though. This is private. Steve thinks he’s alone. He wants to do this alone. That hurts and confuses Bucky: that his husband hasn’t come to him for sex, would rather touch himself hurriedly and hushed in the dark. But Bucky can’t think about it now. He should be retreating back into the bedroom right now, he knows he should. But he feels frozen in place, unable to look away or make himself move. He fears that the slightest twitch or sound from him will alert Steve to his presence.

There are soft, barely-heard noises of Steve’s shirtsleeve rustling, of skin on skin. It’s hurried, what he’s doing, desperate and fast and forced-quiet as he strips his cock in the next room over from his supposedly sleeping Spouse. It’s as if he’s been waiting a long time to do this. Maybe things had been too hectic in DC, these past few days, maybe Steve’s been too stressed, unable to really let loose until now. Bucky’s cock throbs at the thought of his Alpha being so pent up that he has to touch himself like this. He’s been away in DC for four nights and hasn’t touched Bucky in nearly two weeks. There’s an anguished pinch between his eyes, his jaw slack from panting and lips shiny from how he keeps wetting them with his tongue.

Bucky wants him so bad he can hardly stand it.

Then Steve makes a low, barely-there sound in his throat, and opens his eyes to look down at where he’s touching himself. Bucky’s heart leaps into his throat and he jerks in place, and the movement must catch in the mirror or something, because Steve’s head whips to the side in a flash. His hand freezes on his cock, eyes going wide. “Buck.”

Bucky is mortified, caught out watching his husband in such a private moment. He opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say. “I-I—”

“Shit.” Steve’s entire face is going red. He’s taken his hand off himself and is pulling at his shirt to cover in front. He’s stopping.

“Wait,” Bucky says, because he hates that, and his heart is still in his throat. “Don’t. Don’t stop.”

Steve’s eyes get wider. “What?”

Bucky pushes the door open the rest of the way. He takes a step past the door frame, inserting himself into the space where his husband had thought he’d had privacy. “I want to see,” he whispers, feeling absolutely wanton for saying it. “Keep … keep going.”

Steve’s color deepens even further, and he can’t meet Bucky’s eyes. “Buck, No.”

“Please?” Bucky says, taking another hesitant step in. He stops and waits until Steve looks at him. “Touch yourself. Let me watch.” He loves seeing how the embarrassment in Steve’s face gives way to cautious arousal. He’s surprised and maybe a little disbelieving at first, but that’s quick to fade, replaced instead with dark interest and heated, heavy-lidded eyes. He makes to move towards Bucky, but Bucky steps back. “No,” he says. “I want to watch. I want to watch you do it to yourself.”

Steve’s scent spikes, smokey and aggressive. If he were any less of a gentleman, he’d probably be growling by now. As it is, his eyes get dangerously keen, a glint to them that makes him look predatory, which is decidedly un-Stevelike.

Bucky’s belly clenches in desire at that look. The smell of aroused alpha winds into his senses and makes him feel that much more light headed by what’s happening. He feels like a child playing with fire, or poking a bear. “Steve,” he urges, voice coming out breathier than he means for it to. “Go on.”

Steve reaches for his shirt and begins to undo it deftly, staring Bucky down the whole time. Watching those strong hands working down the row of buttons is more erotic than it has any right to be—especially when Bucky’s just stood there and seen those fine tendons and long fingers working between his husband’s legs. He licks his lips, waiting with bated breath as Steve rids himself of the shirt completely

His cock is bared as soon as he does, exposed through the gape of his fly. It’s obscene. He’s fully hard and bobbing in the air, big and thick and shiny at the tip. He stands there and doesn’t touch himself for a long moment, letting Bucky look his fill as the tension builds between them. “You like it?” he finally asks in a voice gone raspy with arousal. He still manages to sound smug, as if he knows just how much heat is flushing through Bucky’s face right now.

Maybe he does. Bucky’s never had much of a poker face.

“Yeah,” Bucky says quietly. He’s got to force himself to stand still, to not rush over and sink to his knees in front of Steve and offer his mouth for the taking. He knows exactly how good it would feel to have that thick cockhead resting against his tongue, filling his mouth, consuming his senses. And god, he wants it.

“Bucky?”

He inhales sharply through his nose, attention shooting back up to Steve’s face. Steve’s looking at him with amusement. He’s laughing at him. Bucky straightens his spine. “You heard me,” he says bossily, egged on by Steve’s Alpha ego and how fucking hot it is. “I want to see it."

“See what?” Steve taunts. “Say it.”

“You’re the one who’s been ignoring me for weeks,” Bucky snaps. “So go on: Touch yourself.”

The smirk slips right off Steve’s face. He takes a step towards Bucky, then seems to rethink it with the way his exposed cock bobs in the air. “C’mere,” he says, quietly but serious, like he might use his Voice next if Bucky doesn’t listen.

Bucky swallows thickly and steps closer, only a few feet away from the vanity and Steve and his exposed flesh. Steve closes the remaining distance between them and wraps an arm around his waist, pulling them together. Bucky inhales sharply at the sudden press of his husband’s warm body, the turned-on smell of him, the hard line of his cock that’s now wedged in between them. Bucky struggles to get any words out. “I—”

“You been feeling ignored, Sweetheart?” Steve murmurs, leaning in to press his face against Bucky’s neck. He starts kissing him in barely-there pecks, repeats the question, “You feelin’ lonely? Feelin’ needy?” against his skin, and it’s more his voice than the kisses that makes Bucky’s knees go weak.

“I … are you kidding?” he sputters. His eyes slip closed without his permission. “Of-of course! You’ve been—christ—you’ve hardly been here, and you never wanna …” He loses track of the sentence, because Steve has started tracing the shell of his ear with his tongue, and the feeling of it is just devastating, searing a line of heat straight down to his cock, turning his brain to mush. He moans and his hips stutter forward into Steve’s without his permission. “Oh.”

Steve chuckles darkly and steadies him. “Easy there, Doll.”

Holy f— Steve’s never called him that before. Bucky … Bucky likes it. He hums with his eyes closed as Steve starts nuzzling over where his scent gland is. He scrapes his teeth over the spot as if he’s thinking about biting it, and Bucky moans, “Steve.”

“Yeah?”

He whines and pushes against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t kidding. I want you to do it. I want to see.” Bucky rarely makes sexual requests like this. Steve took his virginity months ago, and they’ve fallen into a routine of easy, instinctual, enjoyable sex. Bucky knows his face is flaming as he says it, as Steve locks eyes with him again and rumbles deep in his chest. Fuck. Bucky whimpers needily. Steve slides one hand up to the back of his neck and uses it to hold him in place. He reaches down between them and wraps his other hand around his cock.

Bucky’s heart is beating out of his chest, and he’s so hard it actually hurts not to be touching himself right now. Steve’s so close, right up against Bucky as he starts stroking himself off. Their feet are touching, breath mingling between them. Bucky’s erection is obvious beneath his sleep pants, the backs of Steve’s knuckles bumping it as he strokes himself off. “Christ,” Bucky whispers.

“Shh,” Steve murmurs. “Just watch.”

Bucky does. Steve’s fully hard, giving himself slow, tight strokes. He wrings his hand down the shaft, only going halfway down before he squeezes back up and twists his fingers roughly over the head, rubbing his foreskin and squeezing like he’s trying to milk more precum from the tip. Bucky’s mouth waters when he sees how wet his husband is getting, how dark and thick he is. “S-steve,” he says shakily, once again wanting so badly to sink to his knees. “Let me suck you.” He starts to move, but Steve’s hand tightens harshly at the back of his neck, holding him in place.

“Uh uh,” he grunts, authoritative and smug. “You wanted to watch. So watch.” Bucky whimpers and Steve chuckles darkly at him. “It’s what you would’ve done if I hadn’t seen you, isn’t it?” he asks. “Kept watching?” Bucky can’t bring himself to answer, but Steve doesn’t seem like he’s waiting for a reply anyway. “Yeah, you would’ve. Horny little boy. You would’ve stood there in the dark and watched.”

Bucky moves closer and changes his angle, pressing his clothed cock to Steve’s thigh. Just that slight pressure feels amazing. Steve hisses under his breath and squeezes his cock tighter, and Bucky has to ball his own hands into fists to keep from touching either one of them. “Fuck,” he grits out in a harsh whisper when Steve grinds his thigh forward with purpose. “Ugh, Steve.”

“It gets you hot, huh?” he says. “Watching me jerk off? Seeing how your Alpha likes to touch himself when he’s alone?”

“Yes,” Bucky breathes, staring between their bodies and clinging to Steve, not ashamed anymore. Steve’s hand is so big, his fingers so strong and thick around his cock—His cock that’s wet and near to purpling, it’s so hard. Bucky eyes the darker skin at the base where his knot is. He’s thicker now, not blown yet but getting there. Bucky desperately wants to touch it. “Steve please,” he begs, all dignity gone. “Please let me. Let me just touch. A little?”

Steve grunts and starts stroking himself faster, obviously turned on by Bucky’s desperation. He scruffs him with the hold he’s got on the back of his neck. “No,” he grunts. He lets go, uses that hand to hastily shove his own pants and underwear past mid-thigh. Bucky groans as everything is bared to him, and Steve growls a dark, possessive sound. “Get down on your knees and watch.”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck everything in the world that makes Bucky want so badly to obey his husband. He sinks to his knees, Steve pushing him down as he goes. With his face at the level of Steve’s dick, it’s even harder to keep himself from toppling forward and trying to take Steve into his mouth. But Steve hasn’t stopped stroking himself to give him the chance. Bucky whines like he’s an omega in heat being denied alpha cock, and he shuffles as close as he can, pressing his face to Steve’s leg, cheek against his thigh and lips only centimeters from where Steve’s fisting himself. Bucky groans at the overwhelming scent of him. “Alpha,” he breathes, because he wants it so bad. “Oh, God. Let me.”

Steve moans and keeps going. He’s close. Losing the tight, measured control from before, stripping his cock faster and faster.

Bucky’s gaze slides down to his balls, so big and heavy and pulled up tight now, ready to release. “Shit,” he breathes, one hand sliding down between his own legs without thought and grabbing his cock through the fabric of his sleep pants. He squeezes and gasps, looks at how the dark skin of Steve’s knot is swelling, imagines what that added girth would feel like if they were having sex, how it would feel bumping against his rim, or even … even pressing inside …

“Fuck,” Steve grits out, close. Bucky’s eyes fly up and they connect gazes, and it is the hottest moment of Bucky’s entire fucking life. “Baby,” Steve gasps. “M’gonna cum.”

“Yeah.” Bucky takes his chance. He leans in and puts his mouth on Steve’s knot, taking as much as he can reach from his position. Steve makes a noise like the air has been punched from his body, and his stroking stutters. His free hand grabs Bucky’s hair without mercy, pressing Bucky’s face into his crotch hard as he shouts and jerks himself off into climax.

Bucky comes with barely a squeeze to his own cock, and the feeling of Steve’s knot blowing right against his lips.

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