#in dads honor and you’re staring at your mother who said she’d be by your side and now she’s standing down the middle aisle away from you

[milo-is-rambling]

There’s just something about having a panic attack and trying to hurt yourself in the bathroom at your brothers graduation ceremony while your grandparents sit next to a photo of their dead son, your dead father, your mothers dead husband and you’re just trying not to sob but every breath puts pressure on your chest and you keep imagining the nurses giving your father cpr after he coded again for the third time you’re crying and trying to catch your breath and somehow everyone else is normal and holding it together and acting like this is fine and this is what it’s just gonna be like and you’re sobbing and bleeding and thinking about how you’re never going to graduate and you’re never going to be happy and how your father will always be dead and how you’re going to be mentally ill and broken forever and how you need prescription pills just to not want to kill yourself and you’re thinking about how much easier it would’ve been for your family if you had died instead of your father and you know you can’t do that and you can’t make that change and it’s done it’s over now this is how it is but you can’t help but imagine a world where everyone else is happy and your father is alive and maybe in some daydreams I’m alive too but now all I want is to sob alone in the car and scream and cry and I want to be alone again I need to be alone in my room at night smoking weed and ignoring my feelings I need to not be here I need to not be here but instead I’m breathing and collecting myself and trying so hard to pretend everything is okay

[aurorasilverthorne]

Unholy Notions

Chapter #1: Loopholes & Bylaws

___________________

Charlie stared up at the portrait of Sir Pentious. Her father had painted it himself in honor of the snake sinner's bravery and self-sacrifice. Tears blurred the corners of Charlie’s eyes as she placed her hand on the picture of her fallen friend and bowed her head.

“I’m sorry, Pen. You deserved so much better,” she whispered, curling her hand into a fist. “I won’t give up. I’ll prove redemption is possible, I promise.”

“Charlie!”

She turned at the sound of her name. Vaggie stood at the top of the stairs overlooking the Hazbin Hotel’s lobby. “Your dad needs to talk to you. We found something in the records. You’re gonna wanna hear this.”

Charlie ran up the stairs and followed her girlfriend into her father’s private suite. Lucifer was seated at the table pouring over Hell’s law and regulation tomes. “Dad? What’s up?”

“We have a problem,” he answered, straightening his back.

Charlie frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Lucifer handed her a copy of the book he was reading. “Remember that old bylaw that said Hell must always have an heir in case its current or future rulers perish?”

“Yeah?”

“When I signed the agreement with Heaven, no one knew angels were susceptible to permanent death by angelic steel.”

Vaggie cocked an eyebrow. “So?”

“The law states that every ruler must provide at least one heir before they ascend the throne. Charlie doesn’t have one.”

Vaggie tensed. “And we can’t conceive a child together because we’re both women. Are you telling me she’s going to have to marry someone else and have their child?”

Lucifer threw up his hands waving in surrender. “No! No, no, no—nothing like that. The law allows her to choose a surrogate mother and father who will sire and carry the child on her behalf.”

“How does that work?”

“Charlie and I will transfer some of our powers into a potion. The surrogates drink it and the powers transfer from them to the fetus once the baby is conceived. If anything happens to me or Charlie, the rest of our power transfers from us to the heir ensuring its status as ruler of Hell.”

“What kind of surrogates would I need?” Charlie asked.

Lucifer pointed to a specific line of text. “According to this, you have the right to choose whoever you think is best. It doesn’t even matter if they’re hellborn or sinners.”

Vaggie leaned in to read the fine print. “I thought sinners couldn’t reproduce.”

“Normally, they can’t. Charlie’s mom added the loophole in this particular case because she considered herself the first sinner, which makes me the first true hellborn, I suppose.”

Charlie flopped down in the chair next to him still clutching her copy of the book. “I don’t know anything about what makes a good surrogate. Can’t I just…I don’t know…wait until Vaggie and I are ready to find a sperm donor or something?”

“You might’ve been able to put it off,” Lucifer said giving her an apologetic look, “but word’s gotten out about the angelic weapons. If someone takes you out before you have a designated heir…”

“Every power-hungry prick in Hell will be chomping at the bit to get their hands on your crown,” Vaggie realized.

Charlie leaned back in her chair and groaned. “Fuuuck.”

Lucifer sighed. “It has to be done, Char-Char.”

Vaggie put a hand on Charlie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, babe. You can do this. And I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

Charlie sat up to look at her. “Really? You promise?”

Vaggie gave her a reassuring smile and nodded. “Hell yeah.”

______________

Vaggie scowled. “Oh, hell no.”

Charlie blanched. “Vaggie!”

Alastor folded his arms and narrowed his eyes at the ex-exorcist angel. “My sentiments exactly.”

Rosie sat in the chair beside him. She’d known when she’d walked in that Charlie’s invitation to the hotel would be anything but a social visit or some half-hearted attempt at trying to talk her into becoming a resident. The girl had sounded nervous over the phone. The empty glass in Alastor’s hand had only confirmed her suspicions. He’d already downed two bourbons by the time she’d joined them at the bar for a bit of liquid courage.

She took another sip of Bordeaux red before addressing Charlie. “Don’t misunderstand, sweetie. We’re honored you’d consider us for such a…er…that’s a lot to ask, princess.” Rosie didn’t know how else to put it. Fighting exterminators with the promise of food for her people was one thing, but conceiving a child she’d have to give up?

“I know it is,” Charlie admitted, “but you’re so warm, friendly, supportive, and loving. I figured…since you're that way with your cannibals, maybe…”

“That’s why it’s not a good idea," Rosie explained, "I’d never be able to carry a baby for nine months just to hand it over to someone else. The idea of being separated from my own flesh and blood…of not being in his or her life…”

Charlie’s eyes widened. “What? No! Rosie, we’d never do that to you or Al.” She reached across the bar and took the cannibal leader’s hands in hers. “You’d both take part in the child’s upbringing. Vaggie and I—we’re gonna need all the help we can get.”

“You can say that again,” Angeldust muttered from where he was lounging on a nearby sofa. “That kid’s gonna need major therapy with Smiles and Dollface as its parents.”

Rosie glared at Angel. “No one asked you.”

Alastor ignored Angel’s jab. He didn’t like where this was going. The softening of Rosie’s expression and voice when she spoke to Charlie of children unnerved him. He shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

“But Al—” Charlie began.

He cut her off. “Charlotte, what in Satan’s name ever made you think I’d be a suitable option for surrogacy?”

Charlie hesitated. “Well…I mean…you’re so protective of the hotel and…you took on Adam for us during the extermination, so I thought…”

Static crackled as the weight of his stare bore down on her. “The hotel is an investment. And Adam was a challenge, which is something I enjoy.”

“Parenthood is a challenge,” Charlie replied sheepishly. “It can be an investment too…right?”

Alastor exhaled in exasperation. “Not for this demon. I have no desire to play a role in this endeavor. Now if you’ll excuse me…” He set his unfinished drink down on the counter and turned to leave.

“Al, wait—please!” Charlie stood up to follow him, but Rosie intercepted her.

“Let me talk to him,” she said, giving Charlie’s forearm a gentle squeeze.

“But…” Charlie released a dejected sigh and lowered her gaze. “Okay.” She watched Rosie make her way up the stairs and down the hall until she disappear around the corner leading to Alastor’s room.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Vaggie murmured.

Charlie swallowed the lump of emotions in her throat. So do I, she thought.

___________________

Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING!!! Hazbin Hotel and all of its characters belong to Vivziepop and Amazon Prime.

[astroluvr]

a/n: this isn’t a much, but I do hope you enjoy! this was a request for teen!dad jack, so here we have it!

***

"Y/N L/N.” your heart pounded when you heard your name called across the stage.

It felt like a long time coming to reach your senior graduation. Most of your plans were thrown off course when you found out about April at the beginning of summer. You and Jack sat down and devised a plan that led to you to your small apartment in the nick of time for her birth. Nothing was perfect, it wasn’t easy to try and stay up late feeding a baby and studying for exams, but you did it and you were proud of yourself.

You didn’t miss the stares that came when you walked the halls with a swollen stomach and you certainly didn’t miss them when you walked across the stage in front of people who didn’t think you, or Jack would make it. None of that mattered, though, when you saw the pair of eyes you’d been looking for. For the first time in a long time, she had both eyes open in observance and they seemed to light up when she saw her mother.

“Congratulations, Ms. Y/L/N. You’re doing great things.” your principal told you softly as she gripped your hand.

“Thank you.” you said sincerely before taking your diploma and holding it up just enough for a picture.

At the end of the all-too long ceremony, you found Jack and stood next to him, clutching his hand through the instructions to move your cords to the left. Jack watched you with adoration, no more than five months after having a baby were you moving your cord in celebration.

“Move your cord, baby!” you practically bounced in excitement, but Jack was much happier that it was over.

“You can do it. You did everything else for me.”

“This is an honor, you know.” you took a step closer and shifted his cord to the left as you connected your lips in celebration while everyone around you threw their caps in the air. “Congratulations!”

“Congratulations!” he yelled back, pulling you against him as tight as he could in a hug. “Let’s find April.”

You and Jack rushed through the crowd of happy graduates with smiles on your faces. You two eventually found April near the car in front of nice spot to take pictures. April’s eyes widened when she you two, her tiny fist waving up and down and tugging at the graduation cap shaped balloon in her hand.

“Hi, my baby!” you reached for her and Maggie took her son in her arms as your family did the same.

“All of us are really proud of you two. Especially Ms. April.” she squealed when her grandmother poked at her tummy.

“Thank you. Jack and I truly owe so much of it to you. I’m sure this is... much different than you expected, but we appreciate your support.”

“Y/N, you’re family. Don’t have to thank us at all. Jack wouldn’t have passed without you.”

“That I know.” you turned to Jack who had taken off his cap to reveal his long curls.

“Stop hating and hand me my baby.” April immediately responded to Jack’s outstretched arms, squirming in yours in anticipation for her father.

She smiled happily when Jack put his cap on her and looked into the camera you had aimed on her.

“My beautiful girl.” you cooed, kissing her cheek before stepping back.

“Mama!” she babbled, kicking her feet and you and Jack both froze.

“What’d she say?” Jack’s mother asked from behind and you chuckled in disbelief.

“Please don’t tell me that was her first word.” Jack murmured and you swatted his chest before stooping down to her eye level.

“Did you say Mama?”

She babbled more incoherently and you let go of the hope she’d say it again, but it didn’t take away the pride. You looked up at Jack smugly who just rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Next time it’ll be Daddy, so savor it.”

“Oh, I am. You can’t change her first word, Jack.”

“She’s still a daddy’s girl. Isn’t that right, April?” he lifted her in the air above his head and you stood next to Jack’s shoulder to see her smile.

The cameras went up to capture the glow of all three of you. Your hand was outstretched to tickle her belly and Jack was puckering his lips at her to make her laugh and her dimples were as deep as ever as the balloon she had an iron grip on flew behind you all.

Even though it wasn’t easy to get where you were, the Kodak moments could never reveal the stress and overwhelm you and Jack faced. While there was still a long way to go, this was enough for now. It was a perfect marker of how far you had come.

[ssplague]

Alpha Bakugou & his late blooming Omega girlfriend 🌬🥀

PART TWO

Honorable mentions: @jazzylove @bakugoismisunderstood @koreylive

Okay since so many of you seemed to really enjoy this “Just thinking about”, I’m turning it into a short story. I’m thinking it will have four parts all together (including the original post). So I know I’d said that I’d give you a nice big dose of Scumbag Suki this update, buuuut that was before I knew this was going to take off like it did 🙈 The next one is entirely his POV so you’ll get your fill then!

Part 3

🌌✨🌠

“Suki, did you really have to be that harsh towards Izuku when we left the playground earlier? I know you dislike him now but….”

You trail off as you get settled on the plush, blanket lined floor of the small tent you and Bakugou had set up in your backyard. Supposedly there was going to be “A shit load of shooting stars tonight!” acording to one of your classmates. You were excited and insisted on staying up to watch, and as usual, Katsuki inserts himself into any and everything you do. Therefore; The two of you had rushed home after school, asked both your mothers and pleaded to spend the night together out in the yard. Deciding that you two were still at the age where anything other than star gazing was unlikely to happen, they allowed it.

Battery operated fairy lights were strung along the roof of the tent and a small lantern illuminated the center, giving the inside a pink and orange glow.

“Hah?! No way was I about to let stupid Deku come and ruin OUR sleep over! This is for me and you ________, no one else….just…us” a light breeze blew in through the open tent flap and treated Katsuki to be briefly overcome by your scent.

The two of you had your scent glands come in around the same time and still weren’t entirely used to it just yet. All both of you knew is that you favored each other’s scents over anyone else’s. It was kind of getting embarrassing how much you were beginning to enjoy your temperamental best friend’s spiced caramel aroma. So much so you had to make a conscious effort not to lean into him and sniff at his neck from time to time. He was subtle about it, but certainly didn’t mind bumping into or brushing up against you more often than ever to get a whiff of your intoxicating fragrance. Even getting hit with a face full just now had his brain feeling sluggish as beads of sweat began forming along his hairline.

A voice inside his head started incessantly growling “touch her, touch her TOUCH HER”. Under the guise of getting comfortable he shifted his leg to rest up against yours and his mind quieted instantly.

“I….I know that Kat…I wouldn’t have invited him anyway!” Your face began to redden as you brazenly blurted out; “I like when it’s just you and I, we always have the most fun”.

He instantly perked up at hearing that, but he couldn’t help but ask; “So you like me better than him? You think I’m BETTER than him?”. Leaning into you as he waited for you to answer his question, eyes narrowed.

“You know I do! Besides….” You couldn’t help yourself as you leaned towards him and inhaled deeply “You smell so much better than him too!”.

Oh hell now you’d done it ________, you unknowingly opened the metaphoric Pandora’s box.

He didn’t speak right away, just smirked back at you and enjoyed the devious expression on your face. After another minute spent invading one another’s personal space you were first to snap out of it quickly muttering; “M’sorry Suki I..I dunno what happened I shouldn’t have got in your face like that!”. You sat back up and moved your leg so it was no longer touching his. Unable to comprehend the sudden feeling of sadness at the loss of contact, or attribute it to the fact that you were no longer touching him. Katsuki frowned immediately and scooted back against you, “S’okay princess…s’not like it’s a big deal”. His use of the familiar nickname only succeeding to fluster you further.

The next few moments were spent in silence.

Surprisingly, It was you that eventually broke it asking; “Suki do you know…d’you know what mates are?”. You immediately began to play with the cheap desk telescope you’d brought out to avoid looking at him, your heart was beating a lot faster now. The startled look on his face would have informed you that your question caught him off gaurd; Surely you hadn’t just had the same thought he did?! Well either that or you could read minds….that wasn’t very likely, thank god.

“Ah well my mom told me it’s when two people decide that they want to always be together and get sad if they are ever apart…so they live together….and then other stuff happens that damn brats don’t need to know just yet” he finished lamely, confused as to why he felt so strange reciting his mother’s words exactly as she’d originally said them.

“I get sad when we have to go inside our houses at night and stop playing together” you said, the depressed tone of voice sounded like it was happening right then. “Me too…I wish we lived together cause then you’d always be with me” he confessed shooting you a nervous glance. Your eyes lit up and you beamed at him when the idea suddenly struck; “We have to become mates now Katsuki, we have to!”. You got up on your knees and began frantically shuffling things around the tiny tent. “If we’re mates then our parents can’t tell us we have to stop playing and separate at night! We’ll always be able to stay together!” Your sporadic movement and sudden outburst immediately infected your companion with the same frantic energy, albeit nervous, but excited all the same as he stared at you with wide eyes.

“You’re right _________! That’s a great idea”

“I know!”

“So uh..umm how uh…how do we do that?”

You stop smoothing the blankets out to stare at Katsuki, “You don’t know how?”.

“No” he admits glumly.

You can’t hold back the distressed whimper that escapes you and Katsuki is immediately at your side trying to console you “Hey princess it’s alright-“. “NO!” you exclaim “We need to do this to stay together forever!”.

Then you remembered something; “I see my mom and dad do this every morning”. You roll up the sleeve of your jacket and bring your wrist up, simulating the motion of rubbing it across the scent gland on your neck. Katsuki nods his head in understanding; “Oh yeah, mine do the same thing! Let’s do that!”. He lays back and stretches his neck out, “You do me first and then I’ll do you kay?”.

“Kay”

You nod and smile down at him, shuffling towards his head and bringing your wrist up to his neck. You hold your breath as your skin makes contact with his and start lightly rubbing over his scent gland a few times.

“S-Shit” he says softly, squirming slightly.

“What?! Did I hurt you??!” You ask.

Fear immediately replacing excitement and distracting you from reprimanding him for uttering a curse word as you usually would.

“N-No it didn’t hurt…please d-do it again”

You do, continuing thoughtlessly as you become enthralled by his peaceful expression and relaxed as he starts purring.

“Your turn”

You take his spot laying down on the fluffy blanket strewn floor, shivering with anticipation and the slight chill in the night air. His touch warms you from the inside out and you gasp at the sudden sensation. Relaxing once more, you look up at him through heavily lidded eyes and return the smile he’s giving you.

Neither one of you has any idea that this situation is going to come with serious consequences.

Eventually you remember the whole reason you two had decided to camp out in the first place; “The shooting stars!” You cry sitting up and narrowly avoiding head butting the blonde boy above you. “Hey!” He snarls. You stand and open the window flap in the tents ceiling, just as you do you see the first “star” shoot across the sky. “Woah! Quick make a wish make a wish kat!”.

He won’t admit it…but he does, and so do you.

As more stars shoot across the sky the two of you lay together; Happily curled up in the blankets, snuggling up together. Occasionally one of you brings your wrist up and begins to rub the others neck lazily, while continuing to watch the dazzling light show taking place above you. Both of you end up falling asleep long before it’s over. The sound of Katsuki’s continuous purring, lulling you into the most comfortable sleep possible.

Well that, and how his natural warmth just seemed to consume you….

Warmth…so warm at times it could get uncomfortable.

Like right now…too close…too hot

Your eyes snap open and you take in your surroundings; This is your dorm room, you’re at school right now, safe. Your clothes and sheets are soaked through with sweat. Not just sweat apparently; After waking up more you realize your lower body feels disgustingly sticky. Then a tingling sensation begins at the tip of your toes, rapidly spreading up your legs until it reaches the special place between them. Then it’s like a literal fucking furnace has exploded down there! Not to mention the heavyweight that has now come to rest in your lower stomach as it begins to cramp.

“Ow! ow! Ow!”

You try to feel around the bed for your phone, you could call one of your friends to come help you.Friends….that’s right they all left for the weekend! Wait not all of them left, Katsuki! He’s still here! That’s right, you were supposed to go over to his room, last night? Is it already morning? Fuck who knows.

You start to cry when you can’t feel your phone nearby on the bed, you don’t wanna look for it.

You don’t wanna be alone either though….Your scared. His room is just down the hall it’s not too far away, maybe if you just take it slow you’ll make it. You force yourself to get up, not even caring that all you have on is a tiny pair of sleep shorts and a sports bra.

You bend down to grab your slides out from beneath the bed and slip them on your feet before moving forward.

One foot in front of the other.

Your hunched over, one arm wrapped around your stomach and sweat freely dribbling down your face, coating your chest, sliding down the valley between your breasts.

Jesus, I must look like fucking shit right now.

As you make it into the hallway and start your journey all you can think about is how badly you want to see Katsuki. He always makes everything better somehow; That smile he wears just for you makes your heart sing normally. Right now you just let out a pained keen at the thought. Your inner omega has always been quiet enough to ignore in the past, but now she’s practically screeching like a fucking banshee inside of your head.

Just one word, over & over & over again:

Alpha

Alpha!

ALPHAAA!!!

With each screech your primal urges and instincts had began overwhelming you. Eventually reaching a point where the lines between the two began to blur. Making you feel more like a wounded beast that’s gone absolutely feral, while slowly dragging yourself down the hallway.

Once you get about halfway down you start to smell the familiar scent that you’ve become so fond of. Only it’s so much stronger and….muskier? It’s intoxicating, and so potent, you need more! Somehow your legs are moving quicker thanks to this new desperation manIfesting. Once you finally reach his door you have to stop yourself from breaking it down; Frantically pounding on it instead, and now you’ve started crying, salivating, and you’re just a goddamn walking train wreck… Somehow you don’t care, your appearance doesn’t matter, you just need HIM right now.

When the door opens you stumble inside.

The sound of his voice quieting your shrieking omega as soon as it reaches your ears;

“Finally decided to show up? Was waiting all fuckin’ night for you and…hey what’s wrong? Oh shit…fuck”.

Fuck is very right.

[jeonsjiddies]

Not Afraid | jjk (m)

Summary - Jungkook helps you change your flat tire, and teaches you how to let go.

Word Count -  3816

Pairing - Jungkook x reader

Genre - smut

Warnings -  dom!jungkook, fingering, bondage, breast play, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, rough sex

a/n: another re-write from a previous fandom. :)

Driving home from university on a hot Tuesday afternoon, you sang along to the radio at the top of your lungs.You sped down the highway (still following the speed limit- for the most part. Didn’t most cops give a 5mph grace?) when your car started shaking and swerving. You put your flashers on and pulled over underneath an overpass bridge. You got out and realized you had a flat tire. 

“Crap,” you mumbled, pulling out your spare from the back and staring at it.

You didn’t know how to change a tire. You groaned, kicking the stone wall in frustration. You heard a hissing noise from behind some chipped off stones, and out jumped a snake. You screamed, fumbling away from it. Suddenly, a tall man in a black leather jacket appeared. He fearlessly grabbed the snake by the head so it couldn’t bite him, and walked it over to a grassy area, tossing it free.

“Are you oka-” he began when you threw yourself at him, hugging him. 

Your hands then pressed against his chest. 

“Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you,” you rushed out.

Being pressed against him felt so good. Your hands slid down his chiseled abdomen slowly, mesmerized. You jumped back to reality, your gaze flickering up to his face, startled. You stood there, frozen, gazes locked together, your hands splayed across the top of his jeans. 

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry,” you squeaked, cheeks heating up as you stumbled away from him and his amused expression. 

“Oh, don’t mind me. I was enjoying the show,” he smirked. 

You almost died right then and there. From this new angle, you saw his deliciously tanned skin, deep brown eyes and razor sharp jawline, but soft, round features. He was gorgeous, erotic, he was…

“Jungkook?” you gasped, recognizing the boy from school. 

“Hey, Y/N.” he grinned.

“Oh my gosh, hi!” you smiled. “What are you doing here?” 

“I saw you were having car trouble and I stopped to make sure you were okay.”  

You and Jungkook weren’t exactly friends, but you were one of the few people  who didn’t treat him like trash, so you were friendly in classes and the hallways.

“I got a flat tire. I have a spare but I don’t know how to change it.” you sighed.

“I can help you with that. Do you have a jack?”  

“Uh…” you looked in the back and shook your head.

“I do, at my place. Come on,” he motioned to his bike. 

He handed you a helmet and you climbed onto the seat behind him, clutching his torso for dear life. Jungkook’s  body felt so good to touch, it made you hold on a little tighter than necessary. He wasn’t even going that fast. He rode down the highway, turning into his apartment complex. You hopped of the bike, your whole body still vibrating from the purr of the engine. 

“Whoa,” you swayed.

“First time?”  

You nodded.

“I’m honored to have been your first ride,” he smirked, making you blush at the implied meaning.

That bike wasn’t the only thing you wanted to ride…  He grabbed the jack from inside, while you looked around.

“Got it,” he said, suddenly standing behind you, his body head radiating onto your back, breath fanning against your ear. 

You visibly shivered, causing him to chuckle.

“Let’s go, princess.”  

You climbed back on the bike, more aware of his body between your legs than before. He rode back to your car and jacked it up, using the tools he’d brought he took off the old tire and put on the new one. He eased your car back to the ground.

“Good as new,” he beamed, “I’ll follow you home just to be sure that it’s all safe.”

“Thank you, Jungkook. You’re amazing,” you gushed.

He blushed and nodded, crawling back onto his bike and following you to your house. He got off the bike and walked up to you.

“Check your tire pressure in a couple days but other than that it seemed to drive fine.”  

“Okay. Do you want a drink or something?” you gestured to your house. “You really saved me today and I just want to repay you.”

“Sure,“ he smiled.

You led him inside, giving him some iced tea.

“Hungry?” you offered him a plate of cookies your mom had left out when she’d gone to night shift. 

“Thanks,” he smiled, taking one and biting in. 

He closed his eyes and let out a low moan that melted your insides. You pressed your thighs together.

“This cookie is orgasmic.” Jungkook told you, and you just giggled nervously.

“Oh, I forgot to give you the grand tour,” you grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the kitchen. 

You let go as soon as you realized what you’d done and showed him the downstairs before heading up the stairs.

“Last but not least, where I sleep,” you said, sitting on the bed.

“Nice.”  

“You’re the first guy that’s been up here,” you admitted.

“Oh, another honor of being your first,” he winked.

You covered your face, laughing.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“But didn’t you, Y/N?” the corner of his lip tugged upwards as he stalked towards you, almost like a predator closing in on its’ prey.

Your throat went dry as he placed his hand on your knee, leaning closer.

“Y/N?” your mom called up the stairs, “honey whose motorcycle is outside?”

Jungkook froze, your eyes popped open wide.

“She’s supposed to be at work.”  

“I’m not supposed to be here, am I?” 

You shook your head.

“Shit,” he mumbled, glancing at the window.  

“Don’t go. I have a plan. Come on.” 

You led him downstairs and stopped in front of your mom.

“Y/N, what-” she stopped and stared at Jungkook,  “Who are you? Why is he here? What were you doing up there?” she accused.

“Jungkook helped me change my flat tire and I didn’t have any cash on me but I wanted to repay him so he followed me here so I could get into my savings jar.” 

Jungkook nodded, furthering your story by pulling out a stack of one dollar bills from his pocket.

“Oh, well thank you… Jungkook…” your mom smiled wearily.

“It’s really no problem, Mrs. Y/L/N.”  

“Would you like to stay for dinner? As a thank you? I got off work early and I was going to make steak,” she offered.

“I’d like that,” Jungkook smiled. “At home it’d be me and a frozen dinner.”

“A growing boy needs a home cooked meal,” she clapped, “if you go back into your room, leave the door open Y/N.”

Your whole face felt hot  and you just nodded, dragging Jungkook up the stairs.

“I’m so sorry,” you groaned.

“Don’t be, she’s sweet.”  

“If you say so,” you mumbled.

You and Jungkook hung out in your room, talking and laughing and getting to know each other better. He told you how he became interested in tattoos, even learning how to tattoo someone himself, though he hadn’t had time to do it professionally with school. Tou told him that you’d never done anything half as exciting as that. The both of you kept moving closer unconsciously, until you were sitting cross legged on your bed, knees touching. You bit your bottom lip nervously. Jungkook squeezed his eyes shut.

“Y/N, it’s taking every bit of self control I’ve got not to attack you right now, please don’t make this any harder than it already is,” he groaned.

“Attack me?” you asked.

Jungkook lowered his voice, giving you a dangerous look. 

“You don’t even know what you’re doing to me, do you? From the moment you touched me at the bridge, I’ve wanted you. Even before that. You’re so kind to me, so pure and sweet. But I see the way you look at me. The way you want me. Then you bring me to your bed and you tease me, but I can’t have you. Your mom is downstairs. If she weren’t here right now, I’d have you screaming my name, begging me for more, I’d fuck you so good you’d be limping for days,” he growled, voice barely audible.

You sucked in a breath, using every ounce of willpower you possessed not to jump on him.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you babygirl?” he purred. “You want my hands all over you, my tongue-”

“Y/N! Jungkook! Dinner,” your mom called.

Your face was hot from Jungkook’s dirty words, and he had to adjust himself before going downstairs. 

“I’m starved,” he smirked, “but I really just want dessert,” he whispered in your ear, nibbling it before walking away. 

You nearly fainted, but you followed him down to the kitchen.  You sat next to him at the table.

“Wow Mrs. Y/L/N, this looks amazing,” Jungkook smiled innocently. 

You  pressed your legs together desperate for any kind of relief. Jungkook smiled, placing a hand on your bare thigh under the table. Your eyes widened, and you looked at him. He just smiled politely, eyes focused ahead on what your mother was saying. Your dad came in and introduced himself. Your parents made idle conversation, they asked questions, but you could barely pay attention with Jungkook’s fingers dancing on your skin, so close to where you wanted him, but not close enough. As you were explaining the events of the day to your father, Jungkook’s fingers found their way past the hem of your shorts. You choked on your water.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook feigned concern.

“I’m fine. Wrong pipe,” you coughed, gripping his knee as a warning, pushing your legs together. 

He easily spread them apart again, because, did you really want him to stop? His fingers slithered past your underwear, teasing your slit. 

“This steak is so moist,” Jungkook grinned.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” your mom smiled.

You rolled your eyes, until he slipped one finger inside you. You bit down on your lip to avoid moaning. Jungkook didn’t even glance your way as he added another, pumping in and out of your heat seamlessly. His arm was barely moving. His thumb  rubbed circles around your clit, and you jumped a little. You dug your nails into his leg as his skilled fingers started moving faster, curling and hitting all the best places, making the electricity in your core build fast. You whimpered quietly as he shifted the angle, hitting your G-spot again.

“Are you okay, honey?” your dad asked.

“Yea-yeah. I just… ohhh.. My head hurts,” you moaned out.

“Do you need to be excused?” your dad asked.

“No…” you choked out breathlessly, “I’m okay.” 

“Okay,” he gave you a concerned look and started asking your mother about her day.

Jungkook leaned over and whispered hotly in your ear.

“Such a naughty girl, you don’t want to get caught do you? But it feels so good, doesn’t it? My fingers deep in your soaking pussy.  You act so innocent, I knew you’d be a dirty girl for me.” he purred quietly, so only you could hear. 

“Jungkook,” you gasped quietly, warning him that your orgasm was quickly approaching.

“Let it go baby, but be quiet.” 

He smirked, quickening the pace of his fingers. You covered your head with your arms, biting down on one to stifle the loud moan that left your lips as you rode out your high on Jungkook’ fingers, shaking from the explosion deep inside your core.

“Y/N?” your mom questioned.

“I think it’s a stress headache,” you croaked out. “Maybe I should go lay down. I’ll walk Jungkook out.”

“Okay honey, feel better. Nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Pleasure was mine.”  

“Come again soon,” she told him and he just smirked at you.

“I will.” 

Once you got outside, you hit his arm. 

“You’re such an asshole!” you hissed.

“You loved it.,” he laughed. 

You tugged on his shirt and he stepped closer to you.

“There’s more where that came from baby girl. I’m gonna show you how good I can make you feel,” he growled  “if your parents weren’t watching us from the window, I’d kiss you.”

“Now you’re scared?” you scoffed.

His eyes darkened and he pulled you against him roughly, kissing you hard and fast, making you dizzy. His tongue battled yours and his hands gripped your sides, grinding you into him. It was like a grenade had exploded in your mind, almost as good as the orgasm. He pulled away and licked his lips suggestively.

“I’m not afraid of anything, baby,” he winked, jumping on his bike and riding away.

Over the course of the next few weeks, all you could think about was Jungkook. Jungkook’s lips on yours, his fingers, daydreaming about other areas of his anatomy… All you wanted to do was to see how he could keep his word but he had other ideas. He loved to rile you up, then leave you wanting more, saying “it will be worth the wait baby.” Jungkook would sneak up behind you in the hallway, covering your eyes, whispering in your ear with that husky voice “guess who?”  and you like to tease him too.

“Tae?” You pretend- guessed.

Jungkook spun you around in a flash, pinning you against your locker, capturing your lips in a hot, jealous kiss.

“Does Tae kiss you like that?” Jungkook growled. 

“Well now that you mention it…” 

“Oh you’re so in for it,” his fingers dug into your side and you let out a shriek as he tickled you. 

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” You screamed, laughing. 

“That’s right baby, scream my name. Just how I like it, ” he joked, pulling you into a seemingly innocent hug, if it weren’t for his hot breath murmuring dirty things in your ear. 

You went weak against him and he pressed his hard on into your hips, to help keep you up and also to tease you. You whimpered like an injured puppy, grinding against him, but he pulled away. 

“Mmm… so hot for me baby,” he cooed, “maybe if you behaved and didn’t tease me, I wouldn’t have to tease you.“

“I’ll stop I swear,” You promised. 

He grabbed your ass, pulling you in for a fast kiss. The warning bell rang and he took your hand innocently, walking you to class. This hot and cold had shivers running down your spine. He kissed your forehead and went to his own class. 

Later, as you cuddled in his bed, you finally broke. 

“Babe, you’ve been teasing me for weeks. I want you,” you whined. 

“Okay.” 

“Really? Okay?” you gasped. 

“Yeah, but I want you to beg for it. Beg for me,” he smirked, “tell me how badly you need my big, thick cock in your little wet pussy. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” 

His eyes were dark and dangerous and you were already dripping as you sat up on your knees, looking up at him. 

“Jungkook, please,” you begged, too desperate to be embarrassed, “Please I need you inside me right now. I need to feel your hands on me. I can’t stop thinking about how good your fingers felt inside me. You’re all I think about, I’m going insane. Fuck, please.”  

“Mmm.. that’s it baby girl. You want me to make you feel good?” he purred. 

“Yes, please. Fuck Jungkook, I’m literally begging you. I’ll do anything,” you whimpered. 

“Anything?” 

“Literally anything. I need you that badly.” 

“Strip,” He instructed, standing up and walking over to his closet and pulling something out. 

You did as told without hesitation. Some might call you whipped, but it was more like sexual desperation. You’d been allowed to have a sample, but you needed the real thing. You’d been teased and provoked for weeks, and you were ready to burst. 

“Lay back, baby,” He said softly, and you did.

He pulled out a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, smirking at you.

“Are you ready?”  

Your eyes went wide and you nodded, moving your hands up to the headboard so he could cuff them. 

“Now, this is going to be different, but I want you to stop thinking so much and just feel what I’m doing to you. Can you do that?”  

“Yes,” you breathed out in excitement . 

He pulled out a large bandana, covering your eyes with it and securing it around your head.  You couldn’t even see any light filtering in through the fabric, it was just darkness. You heard Jungkook’ belt buckle and assumed he was undressing. You felt his body hovering over yours. 

“Mmm… you look so fucking good all tied up and ready for me. I’m going to make you feel so amazing baby girl,” he licked a stripe from the sensitive space below your ear down to your collarbone, nibbling gently. 

You felt something soft tickle your breasts, causing your nipples to perk up. The strange soft object was ghosted across your alert nipples and you bit your lip and shivered. 

“Do you trust me to take care of you?”  

You didn’t skip a beat, “yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

Everywhere the soft tickling sensation went, Jungkook lips followed close behind. He sucked on your breasts, teeth gently tugging on your erect nipples. You groaned quietly. His wet mouth on your sensitive skin was almost too much. He licked a bold line across them, blowing cold air on the wet skin, and you shook in anticipation.  Jungkook treated your body like a temple, worshipping every inch of your skin, telling you how flawless you were, how much he craved you. His mouth slowly, tantalizingly slowly, worked its way down your body, leaving little love bites, kissing and licking and teasing. You felt the soft tickle on your heat, so ready for his mouth to follow, but it didn’t. He teased your slit with the soft touches and kissed your mouth tenderly. 

“I wish you could see how beautiful you look, all open and ready for me. You’re a fucking goddess, y/n. I bet you taste so good, so sweet,” he told you, nibbling on your bottom lip. 

Your mouth fell open in awe at how his words affected you, how even a simple kiss had you writhing, how not being able to see made everything so much more intense, or maybe it was just Jungkook. Jungkook’s mouth left yours, and you missed his body heat pressed against yours until you felt him press soft kisses at your entrance. Finally, he was where you needed him. His tongue darted out unexpectedly, licking and swirling against your sensitive clit. You moaned quietly. His fingers snaked their way into your dripping core, curling just right, just like they had that night at dinner, only better. 

You arched your back off the bed, trying to handle your fingers in his hair, but your movements were halted by the cuffs. Jungkook fingered you quickly, pumping in and out hard and fast, but his tongue danced slowly on your little nub, the different tempos making your head spin. You were already close, his magic fingers working inside you, his delicious tongue bringing you so close to the edge. Your high crashed over you and your breath hitched, you couldn’t even make sound, just sucked in your breath as the most amazing feeling washed over you. 

Jungkook continued working on your pussy until he knew your high had come back down. Your breathing was labored and he grinned, loving what he could do to you. You felt completely spent, and you thought that was the end of it, until you heard a foil wrapper being opened. You weren’t sure if you could handle anything else with how sensitive your clit felt, but you sure as hell weren’t going to pass up this opportunity. Jungkook lined himself up at your sensitive, dripping entrance. He reached up and took off your blindfold, and the first thing you saw was his gorgeous face smiling down at you, meeting your eyes. 

“I wanted to be able to see your eyes for this part.” He told you, leaning down to kiss you gently, slowly sliding inside of you. 

You gasped, feeling over sensitive and wanting more at the same time. Jungkook moved slowly at first, letting you adjust, then he started going faster. The faster Jungkook snapped his hips, the louder you moaned, Jungkook encouraging you obviously. 

“That’s it baby, let it out, I want the neighbors to know who’s making you feel this good.”  

“Fuck, Jungkook, oh…” you nearly screamed “faster please please please.” 

Jungkook pumped in and out of you faster, rougher, causing the headboard to smack against the wall with a loud thud each time. Your whole body rocked along with the force of his thrusts, and you thought you might actually faint. You were flying, soaring, floating, you couldn’t describe it. You were in another world with Jungkook deep inside you, filling an empty space inside you that you didn’t even know existed. It was like you were incomplete until this moment, and Jungkook became a part of you, closing the gap. Your high was coming again, even more intense than the last. You could barely breathe, you couldn’t even get his name out of your mouth to warn him, you couldn’t do anything but feel the ridiculous ecstasy, bliss, delicious feeling that swallowed you whole. 

You screamed out, the most intense orgasm of your life surrounding you in immeasurable pleasure. Jungkook came soon after, and slowed his pace after riding out your highs together. He collapsed next to you, breathing as ragged as your own. You couldn’t move, couldn’t speak for a moment. You glanced over at him, looking like a snack- no, a five course meal- skin shimmering with sweat. He was perfection and you couldn’t believe he was really here, that you’d really just had sex with him. But it had been more than sex, it was hot and sensual and overwhelming and erotic but it was also two souls intertwining, like coming home after being gone for so long. It was like you belonged there with Jungkook, and you were finally where you were meant to be.  

“Jungkook?” You asked breathlessly.

“Hmm?” He looked at you, worn and sleepy. 

“You’re fucking amazing.”  

“Fucked you that good?” he laughed. 

“Gosh yes, but like… all of you. You’re an amazing person. I’m really glad I met you.”  

He gathered you up in his arms, kissing the top of your head and holding you close. 

“I’m glad I met you too, y/n. You’re incredible,” he cooed. 

You didn’t even try to get up for hours, you knew your legs wouldn’t work after the pounding you’d just had, but you didn’t want to move anyway. The only place you wanted to be was wrapped up in Jungkook’ arms, where you were safe and cherished and not afraid of anything. 

[deniigi]

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

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

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

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

Title: in the plains of Zeffo

Summary:

“I don’t like him,” Karren told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

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

“Din,” Karren whined.

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

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

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

There was little more entertaining than watching Djarin snap.

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

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

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

Urro Bojzka was said to be the ideal Mandalorian man.

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

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

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

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

Bojzka had other plans.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Q-u-o—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Get ‘im, Djarin. Get ‘im.

“I—who?” Bojzka snapped.

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

Bojzka processed this.

“Naseem what?” he asked stiffly.

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

Bojzka backtracked like a champ.

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

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

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

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

Din’s shoulders finally came down from his helmet.

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

 --

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Never too old to be ignored, though.

“Goraaaaaan.”

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

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

The kid’s name was Karren.

He and Boba were now best friends.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Karren frowned and chewed a lip.

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

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

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

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

Fennec beamed.

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

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

Yep.

It was gonna be a late puberty for this one.

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

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

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

Karran cocked his head at her.

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

Bless him.

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

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

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

“Is Din in trouble?”

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

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

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

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

The kid lit up.

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

Well, fuck. That explained a lot.

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

Karren shrugged.

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

Awww.

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

Karren’s frown eased up finally.

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

Bo-Katan sat back and sighed.

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

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

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

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

What did Boba think?

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

 ---

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

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

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

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

“What’s neutral for?”

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

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

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

“Jam?” Karren asked him.

Hm.

Punch it?

“Punch what?”

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

“Rock?”

“OH. Yeah, I’m ready.”

There we go. Onward march then.

 ---

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

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

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

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

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

Bless him.

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

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

“Buir,” Karren pleaded.

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

“NO.”

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

“Come hooooooome,” he pleaded with Din.

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

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

Din’s shoulders dropped.

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

“BUT YOU COULD BE.”

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

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

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

“Promise,” Karren demanded.

“Ehn.”

“Din, promise.”

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

“Bring them. All of them.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t like him,” he told Din.

“Concurred,” Din said.

“Ad’ika,” the Armorer scolded.

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

“Din,” Karren whined.

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

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

Boba missed that kid already.

 --------

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What, so you speak for her now?”

“She is not looking to marry.”

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

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

“Did you call Eegang?” Din asked.

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

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

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

Bojzka arched a fucked-up eyebrow.

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

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

“Eegang is—” Din started.

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

“Eegang—”

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

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

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

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

“Who’s Eegang?” Skywalker asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 --------

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

Bo-Katan asked what Eegang’s speciality was.

Surprise, surprise: it was diplomacy.

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

Din thought about that.

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

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

 -----------

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

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

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

“Where did you find him?” he asked.

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

“He’s kinda cute.”

“Please give confirmation of your understanding.”

“Are you a droid or somethin’?”

“Please give—”

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

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

Bojzka jerked.

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

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

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

 -----------

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

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

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

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

“Is he your first?” Bo-Katan asked.

Eegang winced.

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

“Me,” Din said without hesitation.

“And Paz,” Eegang said. “Which is a deadly combination.”

“She will be a mighty warrior,” Din informed Mesa and Skywalker. Skywalker twitched awake and didn’t understand anything that was happening. He noticed the baby, cooed, and waved with his gloved hand.

“She’s declared this one goat her nemesis and I cannot—I cannot—get her to just leave it alone,” Eegang said.

“A goat clan in the making,” Din said with approval.

“I’m hearing unnecessary commentary,” Eegang said without looking at him. “Please rephrase or shut up.”

Din seemed to gloat at the scolding. Skywalker glanced between him and his tall, teal comrade. He made his move and carefully came in to extract baby Mesa from Din’s arms to add him to his ever-growing collection. Grogu cooed again, closer now. He offered Mesa a hand, and this time, Mesa perked up and tried to grab at it clumsily.

“You manage the covert in the Armorer’s absence?” Bo-Katan asked Eegang. “You must be very dedicated to the Children of the Watch.”

“Define ‘manage’ and then ‘dedicated,’” Eegang said. “I prefer ‘accidentally charged with responsibility one too many times’ and ‘in too deep to turn back now.’”

“He’s being humble,” Din said. “Eegang has brokered peace between our covert and locals on numerous occasions.”

Eegang’s shoulders started to raise.

“Stop telling people that, they’re going to expect things from me,” he said, then popped back up like flipped switch. “Oh, I totally forgot why I even came. Jedi?”

Skywalker looked up from the conference of baby talk happening in his arms all wide-eyed, as though he’d been caught in the act of stealing imperial property.

“We did not welcome you into our covert,” Eegang said, “You must allow us to present you with a gift of welcome and entry.”

Oho. Very formal. Boba folded his arms and watched Skywalker for his reaction.

“A what?” Skywalker asked.

 -------

Bojzka was somewhat justifiably upset at the double standard going on here.

Skywalker was a jedi and yet welcomed into the covert with open arms and no admission requirements. He was, in fact, measured against his will for a set of armor. This was what Din’s buir had actually been after when she’d sent Eegang along to say hi.

Boba found that he enjoyed the reciprocation of ulterior motives that they were getting from Din’s covert. Kryze had never been happier. This was a game that she knew how to play.

“Wait no, hold up,” Bojzka interrupted. “I deserve a chance. Din, at least give me the name of one of your siblings so I can track them down with the elder.”

Din didn’t want to; there were foundlings happening and another meeting soon, but eventually even he had to give the guy something.

An honorable battle required at least two willing bodies.

 -----------

Din and Karren’s remaining sibling at the covert’s name was Shimmol. According to Din, Bojzka had next to no chance of gaining her favor because she did not leave the forge and therefore Bojzka had no access to her. Eegang corrected Din and said that Shimmol did, in fact, leave the forge, but never on her own volition.

She was preferred the dark. She hated social interaction.

To circumvent that, the Armorer had refused to induct her into the trade until she proved herself able to coexist with others. But Shimmol was eighteen, that fun age where no incentive or punishment was effective and digging your heels in was far more preferable to doing a damn thing your elders mentioned.

She’s announced that very weekend that she was officially becoming a recluse. Her present aspiration in life was apparently now to become a forge spider.

Bojzka, along with everyone else, had no idea how to receive this information. Kyrze took it upon herself to pat Bojzka on the shoulder and tell him to start with the elder. He might actually have some luck that way.

 -------

It took two weeks for Bojzka to re-emerge from whatever hellhole he’d had to walk a tightrope across to locate the covert’s elder Fayrz. He climbed in through Din’s personal quarters’ window and interrupted him and the Jedi in a moment of infrequent intimacy.

The sound of a body being throw over a bannister had a special kind of thud to it. Boba was up on out of his quarters in an instant.

Din flung Bojzka’s helmet after him. Skywalker had the grace to cover Djarin’s face with his shirt and walk him back into the room before anyone caught sight of it, telling Boba and Fennec, who had also emerged from her bed, prepared for drama, that all was fine. There was just a misunderstanding.

His bare torso was covered in scars. Boba found himself somehow surprised and impressed as the jedi unsuccessfully wrangled his furious husband back in the direction of bed.

He and Fennec peeked over the banister to see what had become of Bojzka. He was fine.

Fennec informed Boba that she was claiming part of his bed ‘in case anything else good happened’ since he was closer.

 -----

In the morning, Din was in marginally better spirits. Skywalker was to be found at his side, walking backwards and tripping over his cloak every four paces. He truly knew how to hit all Din’s ‘endeared’ buttons. If not to the earnestness and the near-miss of a disaster on the stairs, it would have looked like manipulation.

Bojzka attempted to rectify the peace by breaking into the court through one of the windows high up on the wall outside the second floor’s conference room.  This time, to ensure that he had Din’s full attention, he removed the jedi from the equation. Or he tried to anyways.

The jedi, in a split second, decided that, all joking aside, today, he would not be moved. His green saber managed to glow even in the sunlight pouring in to the hall.

“Do not touch,” he ordered, with both feet planted and Din and Grogu securely at his back.

Bojzka cocked his head at the saber pointed right at his nose.

“That’s a fun trick,” he said.

“Do not touch,” Skywalker repeated. “Me, him, or the child.”

“I’ll think about it,” Bojzka said. “Stand down before you regret it.”

“Luke,” Din said testily. “He’s not worth it.”

“Make me regret it,” Skywalker said to Bojzka.

Bojzka’s eyes widened slightly in interest. He used the back of his wrist to try to nudge the saber’s tip away and snapped his hand away from the burn.

“Do you expect me to be afraid of you, jedi?” he asked, trying to play it off.

Skywalker’s eyes reflected the light of his saber.

“Ask him what the glove’s for,” Fennec called from the far hall. Bojzka scoffed. Skywalker didn’t move.

“What happened to your hand?” Bojzka asked.

“My father cut it off,” Skywalker said. “But not to worry, I got a new one. Now step back. Sir.”

Bojzka didn’t move for a long time.

“Does it feel good to walk in the presence of these people?” he asked. “Is it a kink for you the way it was for your master?”

Boba had officially lost the plot. These were old politics now. Kryze would know what Bojzka was talking about, if only she deigned to come out from wherever she was hiding, which she wouldn’t. Of course.

“Does it offend you? My presence here?” Skywalker asked back without emotion.

“It doesn’t,” Bojzka said.

“I’m glad. That’s very convenient for me. I’d feel terrible if you bled out on these tiles,” Skywalker said. “So move.”

And goddamn. The mountain finally yielded to the sky.

 -------

Skywalker spent the rest of the day on high alert, with one hand on the hilt of his saber and his full concentration tied up with making fierce eyes into the palace’s corners to keep Bojzka at bay. It was really something to see. Din looked about ready to lay his fingers on his heart and swoon, and that was more than fair. If Boba’s spouse threatened to kill a man for looking at him wrong, he’d be touched too.

Fennec told Boba that she’d protect him from a man the size of a bantha but no larger, and it just didn’t have the same kind of ring.

She apologized and he told her it was fine. It was just in the delivery--and also, he’d murder anyone so blinked at her wrong, too.

She was pleased. Boba was glad they were on the same page.

“Let’s go find Kryze to negotiate,” Fennec said, “I need to know why Old Faithful’s back.”

 --------

Kryze’s commanding voice wrang out of Bojzka the real reason for his presence. The truth of the matter was that, War Hero aside, he was having a hell of a time getting the covert elder to grant him a second look.

Din told him that that was the point. Elder Fayrz was like that all day, every day and he’d change for no body, spiritual or physical. He bothered people when he wanted to bother them, and the rest of the time, he liked to pretend he was senile. He only really ever showed up if someone was buying a round or their life was in the balance.

Skywalker said that he sounded a lot like his late master.

Din agreed and said that Elder Fayrz had dedicated his life to two things: the covert children and fungi. Somehow, he made those two interests overlap. Din recalled being twelve and being taken out on a ‘mission’ by the old man who had informed him that he required his nose.

Elder Fayrz had no sense of smell. For a man with a fungi interest, he called this ‘very dangerous business indeed.’

Kryze demanded to know if all the weirdest Mandalorian elders still living had congregated at Din’s cohort which he quickly confirmed. Bojzka, however, demanded to know what would make this elder look him in the eye.

Din told him to go find a deathbed and lay on it.

He remembered belatedly to add ‘nearby Elder Fayrz’ to that statement.

 ----------

After about a month of this kind of back and forth, the Armorer decided that she’d had enough. She did not come to the Dune Sea. She sent a missive to Din informing him that he was coming home.

‘To talk,’ she said.

Boba vaguely remembered Karren saying something along the lines of ‘Din doesn’t get into trouble anymore,’ and was pleased to find that that was not the case. Din already knew what awaited him at his home covert and anyone with slightly more than a rock for a brain could see that it wasn’t going to be hugs and kisses.

Bojzka volunteered to accompany Din as a guard when the jedi made himself conveniently unavailable. Kryze and Boba flipped a coin while Din resisted stabbing him, and of course Boba won. Kryze flipped it again to be sure, and Boba told her sweetly that he’d send her a postcard.

“Have fun with the schmucks lounging around this place,” he gloated at Bo-Katan’s rolling shoulders.

She gave him two naughty fingers.

Whatever, girl. Sucks to suck. Bye, bye, now. Come on, Fennec. There’s adventure to be had.

 ---------

It was a ways to the new covert on Zeffo. Several hours, in fact, many of which were spent playing ‘I spy’ with Fennec while Bojzka gritted his teeth and asked them if they were always like this.

Fennec got Din to join in at that comment.

Eventually they ran out of white dwarfs and capes to identify and settled down into silence until the ship declared landing to be imminent.

Karren remembered Boba and the second he set foot inside the curiously constructed covert entrance. The kid came hurtling up to tackle him and wrap arms around his middle. It was endearing. Boba checked the doors to see if a guard would notice a kidnapping.

Fennec reminded him of child-based expenses. Her wisdom was invaluable as usual.

Karren scrambled away from Boba and, for a moment, made like he was going to attach himself to Din’s armor, but instead wriggled past Din to go tearing down the hallway. He skidded, crashed, and then clambered into a different room at the dead end of what appeared to be a row of barracks. Seconds later, Eegang exploded from one of the rooms adjacent wearing no armor but his helmet. He flung himself through the same doorway Karren had vanished through.

Din tilted his head.

“It’s fine,” a voice said behind them.

Their small party turned to see a woman wearing a cool purple helmet with only her flakvest on. Eegang’s pale baby was sat on her hip, pawing at her chest, trying to find purchase in the vest.

“Sotra,” Din greeted.

“Welcome back, brat-child,” Sotra said. “We missed you.”

This had to be Eegang’s secret-wife; unless she’d stolen that gurgling foundling in the night or something.

“Electrical?” Din asked, pointing at the far room.

“Loft,” Sotra said. “There’s hay, so of course all the kids have to be in it.”

“Just hay?” Din asked.

“And goats,” Sotra said.

Ah.

“We raise goats now?” Din asked.

“Oh, no, no,” Sotra said, sashaying past him towards the room her husband had abandoned, “It’s either coexistence or war, I’m afraid. The forge is past the hangar, keep going through the kitchens. Voxie knows you’re here—he’s awake, by the way. Welcome home, Din.”

“Thanks,” Din said. “This is my advisor, Boba Fett and our friend Fennec.”

Sotra splayed her whole, tall body into the doorway of her and Eegang’s barracks just as a fearsome battle cry sounded out on the other side.

“Hi,” she said.

“RELEASE ME,” a child in front of her about hip-height with serious bedhead shrieked in Mando’a.

Fennec’s eyebrows launched up to her forehead. Boba felt like he needed to record this so that Kryze understood what she was missing.

“Vod Din is home,” Sotra told the child.

“DIN.”

“Shhhh.”

“RELEASE M—mmf.”

“Shhhhh. It’s quiet time,” Sotra said with her free hand over the child’s mouth. “We’re being quiet.”

Din chuckled.

“Hey, Samo,” he said.

Samo let loose an ear-piercing scream behind her buir’s hand and ducked under Sotra’s legs. She ran at Din like there was a bomb behind her. Din caught her and swung her up to perch on his arm and she kicked relentless at his tassets in excitement.

“Shhh,” Din said. “People are sleeping—”

“YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE MAND’ALOR. YOU’RE THE—”

Doors started opening all down the line of barracks. A few curious, hazy, and lopsided helmets poked out from some of them, and from others, calls of ‘EYYYYYYY’ and chats ‘ALL HAIL THE MAND’ALOR’ started up, to Din’s immediate mortification.

This, Boba was delighted to realize, was not a cry of honor.

These half-asleep fuckers had been waiting months to embarrass Din. And he’d known that this would happen.

“Be quiet,” Din snapped all around him. “The elders are sleeping, you’re going to—”

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally home,” a taunting voice rang out on top of the rush. “If it isn’t the Mand’alor himself.”

“Paz,” Din sighed. “Not now.”

“When could there possibly be a better time, your liege?” a huge Mandalorian wearing full blue armor despite the early hour drawled from the doorway he’d attempted to casually lean in. Samo’s braids flew as her round cheeks snapped his way.

“Paz, don’t be mean,” she told him from atop Din’s arm. “Or it’ll be to the goats with ya.”

“Fuck me, the goats, what ever will I do?” Paz scoffed.

“BUIR, PAZ SAID A BAD WORD.”

“I heard him,” Sotra said scathingly, right at Paz’s visor.

“To the goats,” Paz’s neighbor hissed at him.

The hissing was taken up just as quickly as the earlier ‘all hails’ had been. Paz told everyone to shut up and mind their own asses. He was publicly booed until Eegang emerged from the loft room with Karren stuffed under an arm and demanded to know why people were congregating in the halls. He reminded everyone that that shit was a fire hazard, and in doing so, his tone changed completely from easy-going to Commanding Officer and the effect was immediate.

People scurried back into their rooms like frightened mice until there wasn’t a single open door left in the whole line.

Eegang huffed and traded Karren to Din for his daughter. Samo happily climbed onto his shoulders and held onto his chin. Karren grinned mischievously up at her, winked, and then thumbed back to the goat loft.

“Not the welcome you deserved, but the one you got. I’m afraid nothing has changed here,” Eegang told Din compassionately, wrapping his fingers around Samo’s ankles. “I see you brought friends.”

“And foe,” Din said, gesturing at Bojzka who beamed.

Eegang’s visor contained a grimace that would otherwise have wracked his whole body.

“You got in,” he deadpanned.

“Sure did,” Bojzka said. “Lovely place you have here.”

And honestly? Yeah. It sort of was. Maybe a little ramshackle, what with all the scaffolding and haphazard support beams thrown into the walls to keep the wet earth above ground from crushing everyone below it, but for all the unsteadiness, it was oozing with comradery. Family.

Behind each of those doors was a little unit like Eegang and Sotra’s or perhaps a tired body, barely extracted from its boots, taking comfort in this honeycomb of tunnels and rooms.

Boba couldn’t help but wonder how he and Dad would have done in a place like this.

“We try,” Eegang said flatly. “I’ll let the Armorer deal with you herself—if she’s awake, I mean. Otherwise, you’re condemned to Shimmol. I’m going back to sleep. Vok is waiting for you, keep going straight through the kitchens, Din.”

“Thank you,” Din said. “Sleep well, Vod.”

“Yeah, yeah. Come on, Monster. No goats for now.”

Samo waved at Boba and Fennec with a smile as bright as the sun. She ducked expertly as Eegang passed through the doorway to their quarters. He closed the door behind them.

 ------

“You don’t see families like that much anymore,” Bojzka hummed as Din led their troop down the hallways, through a series of ladders into a kitchen and then from there into a surprisingly neat, up-to-date hangar with concrete floorings. Six crafts were parked inside, tucked into the tight space like fish in a barrel.

“We have a few,” Din said. “I don’t know how many people are living here now, though.”

Given the size of the place? Maybe fifty or so, if Boba had to take a guess. There had been several sets of boots lining the wall outside the barrack doors.

Din picked his way through the crafts to two tarps covered in piles of spare, rusting, and grease-covered parts. At the end of the aisle between the tarps was a rectangle bordered by wooden benches and to the left of that was a little box that a mechanic presumably operated from. The box, however, had no windows. Its door was slightly ajar.

Din knocked and a snort and a slurp answered him.

“Jus’ a mo,” a thick voice said inside.

Fennec looked at Boba with intrigue.

“Tool gnome,” she said.

No, friend. Just a grease-monkey.

“Tool gnome,” Fennec insisted.

The door opened and a man at least six feet, two inches peered out of it.

“Tool giant,” Fennec amended in a whisper.

“Is that you, Din?” the mechanic asked. His helmet was rusty red and gray. Its visor had a yellow tint to it.

“It is,” Din said. “It’s been a while, Vok. These are my—”

“Forget them. Goran told me what you did to Razor.”

Din cringed.

“I—”

“AH. No. I don’t wanna hear it,” Vok said. “I just—I’m glad you’re safe, but you ain’t touching any more of my children, you hear me, boy?”

Din sunk into his shoulders in shame.

“I hear you,” he said.

“You’re damn right you do,” Vok said. “Man, I had a whole speech written out and shit, and here you are, early as the fuckin’ dawn. Did you miss Paz?”

“We did not,” Din said.

“I tried to have him do an inventory, I did,” Vok said sympathetically. “But he wasn’t havin’ it. Took an IOU and everything.”

Din sighed.

“Thanks for trying,” he said. “Is the forge...?”

“That way,” Vok said, gesturing to the far end of the hangar, where a series of scaffolding led up to a dark hole in the wall. “Mind your step. Stairs are next on my list. Who’re your friends?”

Din introduced them. Vok considered Fennec and after a moment of thought, saluted her. She tipped her jaw to the side and gave him a once-over.

“Din’s got my number if you’re not busy,” Vok said.

“I’ll take it under advisement,” Fennec said.

“I hope you do, my darlin’. You? Boj-whatever? I heard about you. You can go fuck yourself.”

“Thanks, Vok, we’re going now,” Din intervened.

 ----------

Fennec said nothing on the way up the scaffolding. She didn’t need to. Boba applauded her.

 ---------

The forge was the least finished part of the covert, and Boba could respect the Armorer’s dedication to looking after the flock before her own needs. Not that the forge wasn’t a comfortable place. Upon entry, Bojzka whistled at all the equipment inside. There were steel beams crossing in hatches along the ceiling. It appeared as though someone was working on a ventilation mechanism up there. Ropes and pipes hung down from the beams as though a pulley system had been recently removed.

The forge itself was a huge circular structure with a high wall around its exterior. It was built of a slick-looking black material. There were three water troughs set up in a line behind it and two rudimentary wood blocks with anvils set on them. Benches littered with iron tools sat next to the anvils.

Din appeared very at home in this place, despite not having even been in it. He wove around the accoutrements of the room towards a wooden door that had been placed on hinges on the far side like an afterthought.

He knocked.

“We don’ want any,” a sleepy woman’s voice drawled.

Boba jumped as a something brushed his elbow and discovered that Karren had followed them all the way down to the forge. His soft boots had hidden his footsteps, but, like Din, he was now in a place that he knew like the back of his hand. Din grabbed the scruff of his neck as he went for the door with both hands.

“You’re supposed to be in the nursery,” Din told him. “Shoo.”

“Shimmol, Din’s home,” Karren said through the door. “Goran, Din’s home.”

Very cute. Karren wanted to be the one to shared the news. Din pulled him back as shuffling started up on the other side of the wooden door.

It opened to reveal a fluorescent pink helmet with floral patterns painted down the edges in white.

“Din?” the young woman, who could only be Shimmol, asked.

Din’s brain stuttered.

“Uh?” he said.

Shimmol’s flightsuit was once white, but it was burned and smudged to gray all over. Her heavy gloves were half-burnt on both hands, too. She surged forward into Din’s chestplate. Din hugged her back awkwardly.

“Hello, sister,” he said. “This is, uh.”

“Do you like it?” Shimmol asked, pulling away from him to touch the edges of her helmet. “I thought it was cute. Wait til you see the pauldrons. They match.”

“They’re hideous,” Karren said.

“Did anyone ask you?” Shimmol flung at him. “No, I didn’t think so. Get gone, womp-rat.”

Wow. No wonder Karren was desperate for Din’s attention.

“I’m not a womp-rat,” Karren said. “I’m a Tooka. Goran said so.”

“You know, what you actually are is a ‘nuisance,’ so it doesn’t matter what—”

“Children.”

And lo and behold. The lady herself. Gold helmet and everything.

“Din,” the Armorer said, placing a hand on Shimmol’s side to move her. “Welcome home.”

Din accepted the helmet touch with grace.

“Bojzka,” the Armorer said next. “I didn’t expect to see you in my home so soon, or at all.”

Bojzka beamed.

“You’ve grown a beard,” the Armorer noted. “It does not become you.”

Boba coughed into his elbow to hide the bark of laughter screaming to escape his throat. Fennec thumped at his back.

“Let’s move somewhere with more light,” the Armorer said. “Karren, Shimmol. You’re dismissed for the next hour. Go eat breakfast.”

“But—” Shimmol started.

“Up, up, up,” Karren chanted, getting behind her and shoving hands into the small of her back. “It’s people-time.”

“Leave it. I hate people-time,” Shimmol said. “I thrive on darkness. It sustains me better than food.”

Din looked desperately into the Armorer’s helmet. The Armorer ignored him and told Shimmol that she knew this to false and to stop whining. Upstairs, now.  

The kids relented and left the forge. Din pointed after them.

“I know,” the Armorer said. “Let her work through it.”

Din pointed even more insistently.

“No, no. It’s true,” Bojzka said. “Mine went through the same thing.”

 --------

The Armorer sat them all down at a ‘u’ shape of benches on the far side of the forge. She turned on some overhead lights. They lit up the forge and threw its equipment’s shadows harshly against the floor.

“Thank you for coming,” she said lightly. “It takes a long time to get to Zeffo, even in the Outer Rim.”

“It suits you,” Bojzka flirted.

“It does not,” the Armorer countered unrepentantly. “And your flattery remains aggravating.”

Bojzka didn’t seem to process the meaning behind those words, too busy he was with basking in the Armorer’s presence. She ignored him to turn to Din.

“Eegang tells me that you have been aggressive towards Bojzka, ad’ika, is this true?”

Din hunkered down into his shoulders. He didn’t want to answer. The Armorer didn’t make him.

“This is unnecessary,” she said. “Bojzka does not bother me.”

Bojzka rounded a gloating grin at Din.

“He is delusional, but I’m afraid that head trauma does this over time,” the Armorer said lightly. “There is no need to defend my honor—I’ve already had this conversation with Eegang, so know that it is not only you who I’ve spoken to about this. And Bojzka.”

“Yes, dear?” Bojzka hummed.

“I would appreciate it if you ceased in antagonizing my foundling and second.”

“I’m not trying to, Nomri.”

“I know,” the Armorer said. “And that is where I believe this tension arises from. Din, you and your advisor may leave. I’ll handle this. In future, know that it is not your place to speak on these matters in my stead, yes?”

“Yes, Goran,” Din mumbled.

The Armorer waited.

“Buir,” Din corrected.

“Thank you. The last thing I need is the Mand’alor becoming invested in old-standing relationships. You may go.”

Din stood and Boba and Fennec stood with him.

“He is not Naseem,” Din said right at the doorway.

The Armorer’s helmet turned slowly his way.

“No one will ever be Naseem,” she said. “It’s okay. Go.”

 -----------

Boba need the full story on this Naseem guy approximately yesterday, but all he had at his disposal in the kitchens where he, Din, and Fennec had been banished was a collection of foundlings all staring up at their party looking guilty as hell.

In the midst of their group was a ten-year-old holding a glass jug absolutely brimming with frogs.

Boba had never seen this many foundlings together at once before, and he had to say: these traditionalists knew exactly what they were doing. There was nothing quite like a whole mass of youths to shift the mood.

The kids made a break for it.

  Fennec was the fastest of all of them, but even she was not as fast as the bodies that popped their heads out of the rattling back room and launched themselves without warning over the few rows of tables set out in the main space.

Din’s covert collectively looked after the little ones, he explained when one of these bodies returned with the wrist of a shrieking Twi’lek child in their grip. The shrieking cut off when the nurse dropped down into a crouch and flattened both of the child’s hands against their helmet so that they left splotchy prints behind.

Two of the folks who filed back into the room covered in mud did not wear helmets. Din didn’t recognize them until they spoke and said their names. They’d removed their helmets back on Nevarro, apparently, and they had not to put them back on. Now, they wore veils and headscarves—neither of them comfortable with their whole heads and faces on display.

One of these was a woman named Madda. She saw Din’s helmet and froze by one of the long tables.

“Din, I’m so glad you returned,” she said with hitching breath. And then she took her newly-acquired jug of frogs and went tearing back down the hallway towards the covert’s main entrance. Din watched after her, confused.

“Is the transition difficult?” he asked one of the other Mandalorians next to him.

Their helmet showed zero emotion, and yet Boba gleaned from it everything he needed to know. He put a palm on his forehead.

“Djarin, come here,” he said.

 -------------

Din chased after Madda to apologize for fucking up what was probably a years-long infatuation at this point. Fennec watched after him with a sly grin. But the Mandalorian with the flat helmet turned to Boba with far more open shoulders.

“You got through to him like that,” she said, snapping her fingers.

“It’s his secret talent,” Fennec told her.

“What was your name?” the Mandalorian asked.

“Boba Fett,” Boba said. “And yours?”

“Jhuvac.”

“Nice to meet you,” Boba said politely.

“Aren’t you the clone-guy?”

Welp.

“I prefer ‘Fett,’” Boba said.

“Nah, I feel that,” Jhuvac said, tossing her scarf over her shoulder. “Paz calls you the ‘clone-guy’ is all. That shit’s wild, by the way. But you can’t help your dad’s decision now can you?”

What was this? Understanding? From a traditionalist? Kryze would lose her shit.

“I can’t, although everything after that was totally me,” Boba said.

Jhuvac glanced back at him.

“Including the Solo stuff?” she asked.

Boba lifted a brow.

“Is there something you would like to know?” he asked.

“No,” Jhuvac said. “I know everything I need to. But you know what’ll make Vok’s life miserable?”

 ---------

The mechanic was a huge fan of Han Solo, and he had a list of reasons why Boba should cease hunting  the man about as long as one of his lanky arms. He listed them out one by one in his hangar full of metal scrap. Jhuvac was very correct when she said that the mere mention of Solo meeting his maker would cause Vok immense misery. Boba could see how it could be entertaining.

Fennec made it even more entertaining by poking holes in each of Vok’s carefully laid out arguments.

He kept asking her why she was hurting him like this. Was this a domination kink?

Fennec asked him if he wanted it to be.

Vok walked it all back and told her to do her worst.

Jhuvac decided that she suddenly had other things to do and invited Boba to accompany her on these things. Boba assented and left Fennec to her business.

 ----------

In the end, Boba found himself outside in a group huddle with a handful of covert people, two with no helmets, watching the feud between the foundlings and the local wildlife. The covert, he learned, broadly did not like Zeffo. They hated how wet it was. They hated how cold it was. 90% of them had grown up in desert climates, the remaining 10% in ice climates.

Zeffo, as far as they were concerned, was a backwater hellhole that they’d had little choice in selecting.

“It was this or breaking up and forming two coverts,” Sotra explained, removing Mesa’s captured snail from his face area for the third time. She gave the snail to the guy next to her who got up and took it down to the edge of the nearby river. He stooped to set it in the grass, then froze in shock when a fish’s wide mouth erupted from the water and encapsulated his whole glove.

It left the glove wet and empty.

“But you didn’t want to do that?” Boba asked.

“No, if we separated, it would be Eegang at the head of the new covert,” Sotra said. “And that’s just not in the cards for us right now.”

Gotcha.

“The children didn’t want to be separated either,” one of the Mandalorians with no helmet said. “Goran gave them the option, but things were frantic, you know. They cling to each other when they’re young like this.”

More than understandably, in Boba’s humble and correct opinion.

“What do you all think of Bojzka?” Boba asked them.

“Who?”

“The bull with no helmet? Beard?” someone said.

“The one trying to court the Armorer?” Sotra asked.

Everyone clambered back onto the same page in the face of this descriptor.

“He’s supposed to be some kind of hero,” Jhuvac said. “But I dunno, man. He seems a little, uh.”

“Goran’s too good for him,” Sotra interjected simply. “Imagine stooping so low after a life of respect and service.”

“He’s not ugly,” the Mandalorian who’d lost the snail pointed out. “I’d bang him.”

“You’re not a good bar, Ban.”

“I could be.”

“You’re the lowest bar, Ban.”

“Can’t be disappointed if your expectations on the floor.”

“Go bang him for Goran then,” Jhuvac said. “I can’t tell if she thinks he’s kinda cute or if she wants to stab him in the heart.”

“For the good of the covert, I will endure this hardship,” Ban said.

He was unceremoniously yanked back down when he started to stand.

“Din mentioned some guy named ‘Naseem?’” Boba asked.

The name alone sent the group into titters.

“Naseem was so nice.”

“Naseem was great, you have no idea. So respectful.”

“He wanted to take Din on so bad, it was almost heartbreaking. He and Goran were perfect for each other. He was so happy around her; I don’t think he ever talked in front of anyone else.”

“God, when he died, I cried so hard. I cried for days.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Same.”

“Kind of a tough reputation to beat, then?” Boba asked.

“Oh definitely,” Jhuvac said. “I mean, there was Hajka after him, but she was just so explosive. Like, she made Goran laugh a lot, I remember that, but she was kinda awkward, too. There was a battle on her home planet and she left everyone here to defend what was left of her people.”

“Goran collects the awkward ones, they’re her favorite,” Sotra said.

“You can’t judge her, you collect Eegangs,” Ban pointed out.

“There is only one Eegang.”

“Girl, we know.”

There was a pause while Sotra handed off her child so that she could beat the shit out of Ban on the lumpy grass. Jhuvac handed Mesa over Boba’s lap to the quiet person at his right. They took the baby without question and laid him on their chest.

“Where did you grow up, Boba?” Jhuvac asked. “Sorry, Fett. Do you like Fett?”

Boba was taken aback. It had been ages since someone had called him by his first name—and a Mandalorian no less.

“Boba is fine. I grew up on Kamino,” he said.

“With a covert?”

No, no covert. No anyone, really. Boba was what people in white coats tended to call ‘under-socialized.’

“That’s sad,” Jhuvac said. “It must have been lonely.”

It was, actually. Especially after Dad had died.

“That’s so sad, I’m gonna cry,” Ban said. “Join our covert.”

All helmets and eyes rounded on Boba and he felt like his collar was suddenly digging into his neck. He shook his head.

“I’m not really a Mandalorian,” he said. “It’s not right—”

“Bullshit.”

“Fuckin’ hell, Jhuvac, let ‘im talk.”

“No, that’s bullshit. Listen, Din has ‘don’t trust people’ syndrome. If he trusts you enough to bring you with him here, then you’re Mandalorian enough for us,” Jhuvac said. “And anyways, being a Mandalorian is about what you do, not who you are. It doesn’t matter if you’re clone-guy so long as you follow the Creed in a more or less northernly direction.”

Boba stared at her and realized that everyone was staring at him again. He cleared his throat but found that he didn’t have any words trapped back there like he’d thought.

“Or easternly,” Ban offered to break the awkwardness.

There were still no words on Boba’s tongue. He struggled to say at least something.

“I—th—that’s kind of you,” he eventually managed. “I don’t think I could cut it here, but that’s really kind of you.”

The Mandalorians exchanged looks and shrugs.

“Know that the offer stands if you feel any pull towards it later,” Sotra said. “We have a number of reformed who converted and who move in and out of our covert. Not recently, but when we were children, there were more. Goran, too, was once a reformed Mandalorian.”

“My buir, too,” Jhuvac added.

“My ba-buir was reformed,” Ban said. “But she might have caused a public riot. Or two. Or three.”

“Speaking of which,” Sotra said. “Elder Fayrz has emerged from his cave.”

“I’ll get him,” Jhuvac sighed.

Boba frowned and looked from them out to the hill the foundlings had selected to gossip on. A Mandalorian in black and white with a green cape was, indeed, now kneeling among them. Every face was turned towards him in wonder.

“I’ve heard of this guy. He looks fun,” he noted.

At least one hand from every body came up to clutch at their face.

“That’s exactly the problem,” Ban said.

 ------

Din rejoined Boba in the midst of Elder Fayrz’s attempt to recruit him into the covert. He somehow knew Dad. That in itself was a little disarming. At first, Boba hadn’t believe that the elder was speaking the truth, but then he started up with alarmingly specific training corp numbers and mentioned off-handedly that he used to work in the corps, training kids from six to fourteen.

It made sense now why, in old age, he was considered the most dangerous person in the covert to have around the foundlings.

Grandpa was a serial spoil-er and mischief-instigator. The children saw in him everything they wanted out of life and were loathe to be separated from their most favorite old man.

Din got between him and Boba and informed the Elder that he’d just gotten married.

The Elder’s attentions went rocketing in the opposite direction. He wanted pictures, he wanted to know all about the reception, he wanted to know why Din hadn’t brought his partner home with him, what color their armor was, where they were presently based—the whole barrel of spotchka.

Boba appreciated the save.

He also appreciated the moment when the Elder fully realized that Din had, in fact, married a real jedi.

“YOU STUPID BOY.”

There it was.

The children bustled and whispered.

“This is what happens when we do not teach them to read—where is your buir? I told her, I told her that you needed more lessons. Always with the dogs, I knew it would have some effect—”

Din couldn’t even argue. He and Kryze had been over the very same deficit about sixty times. If they were lucky, Bo-Katan gave him a day or two off in between scoldings.

While the old man was outraged, Din signaled to Boba that they would be leaving soon.

 --------

Bojzka joined Boba, Din, and Fennec at the ramp of their ship about ten minutes late. The Armorer personally showed him out of the covert and told him to return only if the galaxy began to collapse in on itself. She was at least cordial about it, which, in hindsight, was probably why Bojzka was having a hard time reading the glaring ‘please desist’ sign flickering over her head.

“Be safe,” she told Din while Karren made sad sounds behind her.

“Will do,” Din said. “Next time, I’ll see if Luke will come.”

“We would like to have him,” the Armorer said.

She dipped her helmet to Boba and Fennec and they returned the gesture.

“I hope you were well-received by the others,” she said. “Bojzka, good bye.”

“Talk to you later,” Bojzka hummed.

“We shall not,” the Armorer said.

 ---------

Back in the Dune Sea, Kryze was waiting in one of the conference rooms. Din avoided her and all her probing questions. Boba did not. He was in a sharing sort of mood and Fennec had a ‘thanks for the lay’ message to compose to Mr. Vok.

Kryze crossed her legs and gestured for him to join her at the table.

He did and crossed his legs right back.

“So?” she asked.

“Shocking peaceful,” Boba said. “Violent mostly towards their own members. Tried to recruit me at least three times.”

Kryze’s eyebrows did a little dance.

“Surprising,” she said.

“Not very,” Boba corrected. “Din is one of the more reserved members. He resembles his buir more than I expected.”

“And Bojzka?” Kryze asked.

“Soundly rejected, but somehow optimistic about it,” Boba said. “The good news is that Din’s been forbidden from trying to kill him.”

“That is good news,” Kryze agreed.

There was a long pause.

“Are you thinking about it? Joining, I mean?” Kryze asked.

“No,” Boba said, “But it is nice to occasionally be around Mandalorians who don’t have sticks up their asses.”

“Unicorns,” Kryze said.

“A whole covert of them,” Boba told her with a smirk. “Maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s you all.”

“I beg to differ,” Kryze said. “If the issue is resolved, then I suppose we’ll have to move back on to official business.”

That was no fun.

“Why is Fennec so smug?”

Oh, that was more fun. Sit back down, Lady. This is going to be a bawdy one.

[slytherinwh0re]

Terrible Things

Dad!DracoMalfoy x Scorpius Malfoy x Female Reader AU

Warnings: some fluff, angst, death, swearing

Summary: *Draco’s POV* Based off the song Terrible Things by Mayday Parade.

Masterlist

A/N: the flashbacks are in italics and the song lyrics are smaller and bold, I use * to split up the different parts to make it a little easier to read. This is saddest thing I’ve ever written, sorry lol

*Draco’s POV*

“What’s on your mind son, why’ve you been so quiet since you came home from school?” I look at the boy who’s face is almost an exact replica of the reflection I see in the mirror everyday, the only difference is that he has her eyes, her beautiful (y/e/c) eyes.

“Well, on the train back home my friends were telling stories about how their parents met and I wanted to ask how you met mum but I know it makes you sad sometimes when I bring her up.” I watch as he anxiously played with his fingers, something (y/n) used to do.

“Scorpius, if you ever have a question about your mum all you have to do is ask, never be scared to ask about her.” He nods his head in understanding, looking up at me with those innocent (y/e/c) eyes.

*

“That’s when I met your mother, the girl of my dreams.

The most beautiful woman that I’d ever seen.”

*

The great hall is practically empty, very few people ever woke up this early for breakfast on the weekends but (y/n) did and so I here I am at 7am, staring at her from across the room, once again.

I couldn’t help it, ever since I saw her under the sorting hat a few weeks ago I can’t get her off my mind, she’s too beautiful. I constantly catch myself looking at her but I couldn’t bring myself to talk to her, so instead I watch everything she does in facination.

Just as I was about to turn my gaze back to my cold eggs (y/n) looks up, catching me staring at her. She looks stunned for a second but the next thing I know the young witch is making a beeline straight for me.

“You’ve been staring at me.” She stands right in front of me, her eyes locked on mine. Merlin, she’s even prettier up close.

“No I wasn’t.” I don’t know why I bothered lying, it’s obvious I was.

“Yes you were, you have been for the past few weeks. My mum says that if a boy is staring at you it’s cause they’re gonna fall in love with you.” I feel my cheeks turn bright red, never expecting her to march over here and accuse me of such a thing, I have a mere crush on her if anything.

“Don’t be ridiculous, I just think you have nice hair is all.” That’s not a lie, I do think her hair is nice.

“Well, um, thank you.” The pretty girl blushes, taking a seat right next to me, she’s still facing me but this time she lifts her hand. “I’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”

“I know,” I say before I can stop myself, “I’m Draco Malfoy.” My ears are now pink to match my face as I shake her hand.

“I know.” She smiles.

*

“You met mum at Hogwarts?” He asks excitedly.

“Yes I did and I was just about your age too.” The memory makes me smile, remembering how inseparable we became after that day in the great hall.

“Wait, so did you start dating after that?” The question makes me chuckle.

“Unfortunately no, I didn’t ask her on a proper date until 5th year.” I tell the curious blonde.

“Dad, it took you 4 years to ask mum out on a date?” His eyebrows were raised high on his face as if to ask if I was serious.

“We were best friends, I didn’t want to ruin it, but once I did I had her wrapped around my finger for your information. Not that it mattered, I’d been in love with her for 4 years already.” I defend myself to the 11 year old.

*

“Now, most of the time, we’d have too much to drink.

And we’d laugh at the stars, and we’d share everything.”

*

“You’re hogging it again Draco.” I hold the bottle of firewhiskey over my head just so I could watch the small witch pout as she reached for it.

“Kiss me and I’ll think about it.” Immediately her lips found mine, I don’t know when I lowered the bottle but (y/n) had it out my hand as soon as she could reach it, using my moment of weakness against me. The sneaky girl was giggling over her shoulder as she walked over to the railing of the astronomy tower, looking up at the millions of stars.

I walk over so I’m beside her and take my time to really appreciate her beauty, the moonlight made her look more ethereal than usual. The girl could ask me to pitch myself off the tower and I’d ask which way she’d prefer me to dive.

This is our spot, we come up here as often as possible and talk for hours. I love it even more now that we’re dating, it’s the perfect place for a good snog after all and now that we’re older we bring up a bottle anytime we can get our hands on one.

“Draco.” She snaps me out of my thoughts by saying my name, my pretty girl is pointing at the cluster of stars that I’m named after, something she does every time we come here.

*

“You and mum used to get drunk on the astronomy tower?” Fuck, maybe I should’ve left that part out like I did with the snogging.

“Um, just that one time really.” I watch as my son rolls his eyes obviously not believing me.

“So you started dating 5th year and got married a couple of years after you graduated?” His eyes sparkle with the same curiosity she always had.

*

“You know that I love you will you marry me.”

*

“How did you do this Draco?” She questions as her eyes flit across the room in awe. I had set up the astronomy tower so it was illuminated with hundreds of small candles and a nice diner.

“I just asked Dumbledore, he said it isn’t a problem, it’s ours for the whole night. I know how much you love this place and I wanted to do something nice for you.” Her arms fling around my neck and her lips pepper kisses all over my face before finally landing on my lips.

“You’re the best, thank you Draco, I love it.” She smiles as she pulls away. We eat our dinner as we share all our memories in the school that brought us together. When we’re done she walks over to the railing and looks up at the stars, I already know what she’s searching for.

“Draco.” She whispers while pointing at the same stars from years ago but this time when she looks over I’m on one knee holding the ring that’s been burning a hole in my pocket for sometime now.

“(Y/n), I’ve loved you since we were 11 years old, I’ll never love another soul like I do yours, please do me the honor of becoming my wife. Will you marry me?” My heart pounds in my chest as I wait for her to answer, I watch as her eyes start to water, and her hand covers her mouth in shock before she finally starts nodding her head.

“Of course, of course, I’ll marry you.”

*

“I wish she was still here dad.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, willing myself not to cry as I think of the beautiful memory.

“So do I son but we have each other, and you’re the best gift she ever gave me.” I pull him in for a hug as he sniffles into my shirt.

“I love you dad.”

“I love you more Scorpius.” I kiss the top of his head just as he begins to yawn. “Alright that’s enough stories for tonight, time to go bed.”

With a final hug I watch as he heads to his room for the night, my sons questions haunting my mind as I lay in my own bed, on the left side, she always slept on the right.

*

“It seems that I’m sick, and I’ve only got week.

Please don’t be sad now, I really believe,

You were the greatest thing that ever happened to me.”

*

I hold (y/n)’s hand as she coughs into her handkerchief, her pale face a shadow of what it once was, even now she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She looks at me with those eyes that are forever ingrained into my memory, the same ones she gave our son, she doesn’t have to say anything, I know this is it. Her time on this earth, my time with her, has run out.

“Draco,” her voice gravely as she lets out another horrible cough, “Draco, take care of him, love him enough for the both of us.” The tears fall from both our eyes as she struggles for breath, the incurable disease the doctors found weeks ago leaving her too weak.

“Of course my love, Scorpius is our greatest accomplishment, he’ll always love you like I do.” Her hand squeezes mine, our one year old son laying on her chest as she hugs him with her other arm.

“Don’t be sad Draco, the love you’ve given me is more than enough for me to die happy,” she catches her breath before putting her hand on my cheek, “you’re the greatest thing that ever happened to me my sweet boy.” Her eyes close, too tired to keep them open any longer.

*

That night I held her hand until it went limp in my hand, her final breath was the moment I lost a part of my soul. A single tear falls as I remember the beautiful girl that took my heart and held it in her hands since we were 11 years old, never once letting it go.

I fall asleep heart broken because life can do terrible things.

Tag list: message me if you want to be added or removed.

@tonksandherpinkhair @fuckingdraco @dracosathenaeum @dreaming-about-fanfictions @lovecatsnotpeople @ccabian @purpleskymalfoy @tonksandhercombatboots @hellounicorns @whattheactualfuckyeet @perfect-storm95 @prongsandprancer @agirlwithpointlessideas @explxsion @tb-ctn @capkatie @dracoxmgg @sydnee-kom-spacekru @slytherinxraven @emomikewazowski @juliannaamonroe @unadulteratedfirellamapanda @t38h @dracoswhore007 @d-malfoytb @daringvixon @missmercurymoon @weaslcyx

[thedeathdeelers]

“Luke, honey, you’re not going to get a date ever if you don’t at least attempt to be nice to girls.”

“I’m nice!” Luke said as he turned from his mom, rummaging through his closet for the box of guitar picks he kept when he’d chewed his latest one beyond its ability to play. The silence from his mom should’ve made him feel indignant but instead he sighed as he grabbed the box hidden behind the leather jacket Reggie forgot in his room ages ago. “I’m nice enough, mom. Besides I don’t date, I’ve got the boys and the band and -“

“I’m just saying, Cassie’s mom has been hinting to be heavily during our weekly cooking lessons that Cassie wants to ask you to the Sadie Hawkins dance. I think it could be good for you,” Emily shrugged attempting to seem nonchalant which was hilarious to Luke because his bouncy energy definitely didn’t come from his dad. “It’s girls’ choice, you should feel honored she wants to ask you.”

Luke tried not to make a face. Cassie Singh was nice. He remembered them sharing a piece of pie in elementary school once. She was also really pretty, he knew, long straight black hair and curved nose that had a diamond nose piercing in it. She was just…not his type. Cassie listened to Phil Collins and Tim McGraw which fine they were good lyricists but where was the adventure in that? She thought The Cranberries sounded creepy for God’s sake! And when he’d mentioned Soundgarden she’d just looked confused. Besides he hadn’t even talked to Cassie, like full on had an in-depth conversation, in years just locker talk that lasted maybe twenty/thirty seconds.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it?” Emily cut in, “smile and be polite.”

“Mhmm,” Luke kept rummaging around his room desperate to think of a way out of this conversation, “ok but what if I want to yknow go against the status quo. What if I want to ask a girl?” No, why had he said that? Now she was never going to let this go. He tried to think of someone he could lie about liking and found himself coming up blank. Fuck.

“Oh?” And there it was, the dreaded sound of intrigue only a mother could make. “And who is this mystery girl I’ve never heard of before?”

“Uh,” Luke found himself looking down at his guitar case on his bed when he figured he should stick as close to the truth as possible. “You don’t know her.” Well that wasn’t a lie, he didn’t know her too.

“She doesn’t go to your school?” He could feel her eyes on him so he dropped to look under his bed moving shoes around as if he were searching for something.

“No,” that wasn’t a lie either.

“How did you meet her?”

For fuck’s sake. “At Bobby’s garage. She heard us playing and wanted to see what the noise was all about.” Okay that sounded possible, he had to give it to himself he was rocking this bullshit so well.

“And? What’s her name? What does she look like? How old is she?” So much for sticking close to the truth, he kept throwing his shoes around when he heard the clattering of a VHS getting hit. He grabbed at it hoping it wasn’t anything too important when lo and behold The Sound of Music drifted into view.

“Julie,” he hadn’t been thinking when he said the name. He was just beginning to read the description about Julie Andrews when he’d pronounced the word out loud to his waiting mother’s ears.

“That’s a nice name, what else can you tell me about her?” Oh about the imaginary girl I’ve made up as an excuse not to go to some dance with a girl who doesn’t like good music and probably doesn’t even know who Tom Waits is? Sure mom let me just pull some other shit out of my ass.

“Uh,” he kept staring at the VHS cover wondering what he could say when he remembered his dream about the girl with brown eyes. “She’s got curly hair like really curly and it puffs out and coils back and bounces,” technically that wasn’t a lie the girl in his dreams really did have aerodynamic hair. “And she’s got brown eyes.” Please please let that be enough.

“Hmm,” and with that Luke slouched onto the floor. Fuck. He knew he was going to be there a while. - 🌙 (I saw your response to one of the anons and got this idea in my head oops sorry!)

OH MY GOD

this IS SO GOOD I kept cackling the whole way through WHY ARE YOU STILL ON ANON AAAH

the julie part? GENUIS

UGH I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

also the way you included the dream bit? from my lil stargazing series? 🥺 ily

again

stop apologising this is literal gold just sat in my inbox

everyone go read this

[hb-writes]

Just Because You Can Doesn’t Mean You Should

Summary: After a few rainy days stuck inside during spring break, the whole Cullen clan is feeling restless and resort to pranking to pass the time.

Featuring: Emmett Cullen, Carlisle Cullen, and Mia Cullen

-- It had rained for fifteen days straight in Forks, a parade of stubborn drizzles followed by steady downpours and carrying over into the week-long spring break. Mia didn't usually mind the rain, quite used to it giving her something to watch out the window when she didn't care for a teacher's lesson or the drops of it falling against her window and lulling her to sleep at night.

She usually enjoyed the impromptu breaks her family took from school, too, more than happy to roam the woods or sit out in the sun with a book while Forks High School held the impression that Dr. and Mrs. Cullen had pulled the kids out of school for some outdoor activity. But being stuck inside while the school was closed for an endlessly rainy break had Mia feeling a little restless.

It had taken her only a day to finish her pending assignments, and just one more to completely rearrange her bedroom. She had actually grown tired of staring at things, her eyes fatigued by and bored with her laptop screen, books, and the view out her window. And she had grown tired of her siblings too, bored of their usual indoor pursuits and routines.

By day three, Mia had strayed to playing innocent pranks to pass the time—moving her siblings' things when they left the room and making failed attempts to sneak up on all of them, but most specifically Emmett, who'd first made a game of scaring her, wrapping the whole family up in it so that Mia could hardly go an hour without being snuck up on.

Because of that, her pride and joy in regards to the pranks had been the alterations she made to Emmett's jeep, a prank she entered into knowing it would likely be an act of delayed gratification, not like the hiding of frequently needed items or the botched pop up scares. Emmett had no need to take a vehicle out any time soon. If he was going anywhere, he was more likely to run, and once school was back in session, they would be more likely to take Edward's car. Mia knew she could be waiting weeks for any sort of acknowledgement.

She was willing to wait though, the mere recollection of all she had done sufficient enough to get her through Emmett continuing to scare her over and over. She’d done a few things to his jeep, easy stuff like rearranging the mirrors and seats, and adjusting the radio volume to its maximum, and changing the station to the local one that favored heavy metal. But all of that was mostly a distraction because Mia was far more proud of the collection of nuts and bolts in tin cans duct-taped under his seats and inside the spare tire set on the back to the jeep. The whole vehicle would be rattling if he hit a bump or tapped the break, two things she assumed Emmett would encounter before even making it out of the driveway. 

Mia wasn’t usually one for such targeted and premeditated pranks, but Emmett had made a sport of scaring Mia over their week of near-confinement, and she felt he deserved something beyond the standard prank. So when the opportunity arose, with her siblings out for a hunt, her father at the hospital, and her mother occupied with some project in her studio, Mia took her opportunity. 

She knew Emmett would discover the rattle was no more than a prank after he asked Rose to take a look at it, but she still giggled to herself imagining what would happen when he finally brought himself to ask for Rose’s help and then she laughed once again imagining the look on Rose’s face as she held up one of the offending cans. Emmett was clueless when it came to cars. Completely clueless.

But she had only had to wait a few days because Rose had decided she wanted to go on a date, and Emmett insisted on driving, insisted on getting dressed up, and settling himself down on the couch beside Mia while he waited for Rose to finish getting ready.

Had Mia realized they would be taking Emmett's vehicle, she wouldn't have stayed in such a vulnerable position, lounging there on the couch. She would have put some more distance between herself and her siblings, and a locked door, perhaps. She would have prepared herself a bit better to feign ignorance.

But as she had been caught off guard, she hadn't been prepared to fight when Rose stomped back through the front door with Emmett following in her wake. Rose had barely spared her a glance, the can rattling in her hand as she continued straight up the stairs.

And though it all clicked very suddenly that she was about to be told on, Mia couldn't scramble fast enough because it seemed to happen too quickly that Emmett had plucked her off the couch and was placing her down in Carlisle's office, less than two steps away from a seething Rose.

To Rose's dismay, there hadn't been any true repercussions for the prank aside from Carlisle's request that Mia issue a genuine apology and an acknowledgment that cars were not something to be messed with. Mia had laid low for a few days anyhow, avoiding Emmett and Rose, and even her father, to the best of her ability, which was why Mia had settled in for a day of self-care, feeling she’d earned an afternoon of soothing teas and good music and moisturizing skincare and nail painting after all of the effort put into pranking and the hassle of being found out. 

With the rain and the music and her own voice filling her ears, Mia didn’t hear Emmett push her door open or tread across her bedroom floor. Had he been a human of his proportions, he’d not be able to sneak up on her, but as it was, Emmett was stealthy whenever he wished to be, able to take unassuming and delicate steps despite his size. 

“Boo.”

The word was barely above a whisper and Mia stumbled and let out a scream, startled just as much by the hushed remark as she was by the quick rush of breath near her ear and the hands that grasped her before she fell. 

“EMMETT!” she shouted, pushing at his hold and groaning once he settled her back on her feet. 

He reached over to turn down the music, laughing. “You’re too easy, kid.”

“And you’re a stupid jerk,” Mia ground out, shoving against his solid chest with all her might only for him to stand there unaffected, chest puffed out and smiling down at her. “You scared me!”

“Same here,” he said, gesturing towards the green clay mask on her face. “Got a bit of a Wicked Witch of the West thing going on there.” 

Mia’s rolled her eyes. “Actually, I was channeling my idiot older brother.”

“Ah, so Yoda, then?” Emmett smirked. “What an honor.” 

“Hulk,” she offered. “You know, the incomprehensible behemoth with no self-control?”

Mia stepped away from him, heading towards the bathroom to rinse her face and Emmett appeared before her once again, another scream coming from her lips. 

“Stop doing that!” 

“I’m sure you’ve done something to earn it,” he answered, “just haven’t figured out what yet.”

“I’ve been up here all day, Em.” 

“Yeah, and unfortunately your voice carries. Sounds like you’re drowning cats up here.” Emmett turned to glance in the open bathroom door and Mia smacked him on the arm. 

“I’m going to tell Dad if—” 

“Speaking of Carlisle, he wants to see you.” 

“Why?”

Emmett shrugged. “I’m just the messenger, but you might want to clean that off and drop the Oscar the Grouch act before you go down there.” 

Mia clenched her fist. If it would have done anything, she might’ve hit him, wiping that smug little grin off his face entirely, but she knew it wouldn’t, so she took a deep breath instead, releasing her fist and smiling instead.

“You mind giving me a minute, then?” 

“Wait for wicked sister grouch, the Yoda Hulk brother will,” Emmett answered.

Mia took another deep breath, waiting a moment to see if he was serious, rolling her eyes as he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

“I don’t need you to wait. I can remember how to get myself downstairs,” she said, but Emmett didn’t budge so she moved to the sink. 

She took her time with rinsing and moisturizing and didn’t utter a word to Emmett as she tried to step past him, but his hand caught her chin, though his palm and fingers spanned the whole bottom half of her face really, and the whole maneuver stopped her from moving entirely with little effort on Emmett’s part. 

“So soft now, your skin is.”

“Emmeh, lemme go!” Mia shouted, her words muffled as her cheeks remained squished between his fingers. “Yur nod fummy.” 

Emmett laughed, dropping his hold and holding a guiding hand out in front of them. “Fine, grouch. Go ahead, then.” 

“I will.” Mia massaged her jaw as she took the stairs nearly two at a time. “And I’m going to tell Dad you’re being an assh—” 

Mia’s mouth closed as she took a step off the stairs, rounding the corner, nearly knocking into her father.

Carlisle caught her arm as she stumbled and Mia briefly checked his face for any sign he intended to reprimand her for the word choice, but her eyes were instead pulled to the mess of tin cans on the table.

"What's…"

"All of this?" Carlisle asked as Mia wormed her way out of his hold. "I was hoping you might be able to tell us."

Her eyes flicked back and forth between the cans, her father, and her brother, who had taken a seat at the counter.

"I've been up in my room all day. I don't even know what 'this' is."

Emmett put his feet up on the stool beside him. "You're busted, kid. Might as well give up the act."

"I'm not busted because I didn't do anything.”

"Well, the fourteen tin cans found in the cars would say otherwise," Carlisle answered. "I thought we were in agreement that there would be no more pranks played, especially where the cars are involved?"

Mia’s mouth fell open a bit before she gulped. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up the can that certainly had been Mia's doing, a neat 'With love, Mia,' painted out on the side of the can with nail polish.

"You did this?"

Mia couldn't find the words, but she finally nodded. "But I didn't—"

Carlisle held up another tin can, a nearly identical message written out on the side with the very same shade of pink and Mia stepped forward, pulling the can from his grasp to study it closer.

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered, "Emmett must've…he must be—"

"I must be what?"

Mia jumped at her brother's closeness and she smacked his shoulder as a reflex. "Stop doing that!” she said before turning back to Carlisle. “Dad, tell him to stop scaring me."

Carlisle sighed. "Amelia, I thought we were on the same page after our discussion. You agreed to stop with the pranks, but since our discussion doesn’t seem to have been enough—"

"Dad, I didn't do this," she answered. "I—"

"What about this?"

Mia let out a rushed exhale, a nervous laugh coming at the end of it. She had forgotten about the photo she'd replaced days ago, switching out one of her father and her as a baby to that of her father holding a potato wrapped in cream-colored blankets.

"I did that ages ago. It was before we talked."

"Aw, come on, Mia. You don't think we're that stupid, do you?" Emmett asked.

Mia turned from her father to her brother. "I think you are."

She shrieked as Emmett twirled her around, wrapping one arm across her chest as he held her against his front, using his free hand to clamp down over her mouth.

"Alright, I think we've heard enough of her lip, Carlisle. It's time for sentencing. Fearless leader, do your worst."

Mia knew her father would never do his worst. She wasn’t even aware of what Carlisle Cullen’s worst entailed, having never seen him more than slightly aggrieved, but she thrashed against her brother’s hold anyhow, prying at his hands until he caught her arms, and then she kicked at his shins, but Emmett easily sidestepped her attempts.

Mia yelled her brother’s name, the sound muffled into his palm before she bit down. It didn’t hurt him, more of a shock that she’d even done it, than anything. She'd gone through a short-lived biting phase around three or four, but they’d been incident free since then.

Emmett smirked. “Are you sure you want to challenge me to a biting war, kid?”

Carlisle cleared his throat. “I think a more appropriate punishment would be for Amelia to clean and detail the cars.” 

She groaned, her efforts to get out of Emmett’s hold renewed, if only because she wanted to voice her protest. 

“And dust every picture frame in the house,” Carlisle continued as Emmett finally uncovered her mouth.

“But that’s going to take forever and I—”

“I suspect it will keep you busy for the remainder of your break and provide you with plenty of time to think about your behavior,” Carlisle said. “And you’re grounded...three weeks.” 

“You’ve got to be joking,” Mia groaned, “Dad, I didn’t even do this! I—”

Mia felt Emmett shaking with silent laughter before she noticed the mischievous glint in her father’s eye, the slightest of smiles coming to his face. 

“You actually are joking, aren’t you?” 

Carlisle shrugged. “Emmett and I thought you could benefit from a little dose of your own medicine, Mia.”

Mia sighed. “So I don’t have to do any of what you said, then?”

Emmett lifted her over his shoulder, moving steadily towards the door.. “You’re still helping me wash the jeep, kid. Need to teach you the importance of not messing with my things.” 

“But it’s pouring out—Dad! Help!”

Carlisle stepped forward, beating them to the door.

“Thank yo—” Mia started.

He pulled his daughter’s rain jacket off the hook, handing it to Emmett. “We wouldn’t want your sister getting sick,” he said. “And let me get that for you.” 

Carlisle opened the door, an eyebrow raised and a small smirk on his face as Emmett carried her through. 

“Have fun, sweetheart.” 

--

Twilight Masterlist

[theveryinsignificantpotato]

hello!! may a request an alastor x reader where the reader is charlie’s older sister?!

I am sorry this took a weirdly long time, I had to rewrite it literally four separate times before I had a semi-solid idea for a plot, and this is where it got me

I do sincerely hope you like it!

The Magne Match Maker

She was lucifer's oldest and most powerful daughter, holding a reputation for being a high energy leader who didn't take any shit, and often stirred fear in the hearts of those around her. Everyone in hell knew who she was, Alastor alone had read about her in papers, seen her in paintings and portraits with her family, and even caught a glimpse of her on the picture show once or twice in passing. He found himself knowing of both her and her reputation when they met, so the shock wasn't from her personality or anything of substance - he just hadn't anticipated how much prettier she was in person.

Despite her initial skepticism with his relations to her sister's dreams, she never shunned him, but rather allowed him closer in an attempt to grasp any hidden intentions he had. She allowed him to talk and dance and joke with her like he did with everyone else that allowed him to, and he found that she herself was brilliantly funny, charismatic, and quite the dancing partner, she was bold and fun and all around gorgeous - and Alastor would never admit just how quickly she had him wrapped around her little finger.

Charlie watched it all go down too, from the moment her sister arrived at the hotel she had a premonition about those two, and as the weeks passed their chemistry became more and more undeniable. Her sister, who was usually stubborn and quick witted, seemed to turn to putty in Alastor's hands every time he swept her into a dance, she'd blush and lean into his grip, and has a smile that just wouldn't leave regardless of how much she tried to force any other expression into its place. Alastor himself even seemed hesitant any time he had to remove the demon from his gaze and found that his face flushes against his will any time she'd laugh at his jokes.

This went on for months, both parties infatuated with the other while doing nothing to officialize any sort of relationship.

Charlie had to do something

While y/n had accepted the idea, Alastor was thrilled at the principal of a ball! So many bodies crammed in one room in the midst of an event would surely result in some delicious chaos, and even if there wasn't any, perhaps he could treat himself to a dance with the queen-to-be! 

Said demon herself was more excited at the ability to use the event as an excuse to go dress shopping with her little sister (dad had her off on business so often it seemed she never got to see Charlie anymore) it had been a long time since she'd been to a formal event and who better to consult than her! The Magne sisters would surely rule the event with their outfits.

Boy did they, Alastor was stunned when he saw y/n, who entered with Vaggie and Charlie, the three of them were talking and at one point when y/n threw her head back in laughter his long-dead heart seemed to leap back to life. He had never meant to stare, of course, she just completely caught him off guard with her striking appearance. Both Magne sisters wore dresses in the same style with skirts that met the floor with a gold trim, charlie's was primarily black and pink - like her typical outfit, and her sister was wrapped up in her own favorite colors, golden fabric trimming both dresses. He himself was quite dressed up, an old fashioned suit adorning his thin frame (red suited him best, he thought), his bowtie was replaced with a hand-tied bow, and a silken vest showed slightly beneath his coat. Her eyes finally met his after a few moments, and he reveled in the way her cheeks instantly flushed upon seeing him. It wasn't long then, before he approached her for a dance, earning an excited squee from Charlie. 

"You are gorgeous as always Ms. Magne, I would be eternally grateful if you'd grant me a dance." He asked sweetly, taking her hand and bowing to press a kiss to her knuckles

Her face flushes even more and she looks to Charlie who nearly shoves her sister into his arms in reply. He is barely fazed, only moving to ensure she was steady before returning to his previous position, "I'd be honored to" she says finally, her words barely leaving her mouth in a breath.

His smile widens and he immediately begins guiding her to the floor where many couples were already moving to a jovial rhythm, proudly showing her off to those who saw, as if staking claim to her right then and there. As usual, she was a wonderful dancer, and he adored every second he had with her in his arms, twirling and spinning her in time with their fellow dancers, even she seemed to be having a blast. He was so caught up in the moment that he barely noticed when the music slowed to the next song and she ended up curled up into his arms with her head to his chest. His left hand gripped her right one gently, and his other hand was held softly to her waist as he led her between the other dancers.

"You have a heartbeat." She observes in a soft voice

“That I do." He hums in a jovial tone, sending a delightful chill down her spine

"My father and mother don't, I have just never heard one before…" she says softly, and her face flushes slightly once again, "I don't know why I brought that up, I was just thinking and I guess I started talking."

He shook his head “Nonsense, I’d love to know whats going on in that pretty little head of yours,” He hummed continuing their soft sway across the floor, “Many people find the sound of a heartbeat to be relaxing, while I have met others who rejected the idea of a demon with a pulse, I’m curious of what your opinion is.” He continued the topic, hoping to keep her talking

“I like it.” she says contently, “I think I could always listen to it.”

Now it was his turn to feel blood rush to his cheeks, and he was silently thankful that she couldn't see his darkened flesh from her angle against his chest

"It's funny how much I disliked you when we first met," she continued, "I'll admit, Charlie is the only reason I let you stick around at all - and it seems that it's because of her that I'm here with you now." 

He hummed, "She is quite persistent regarding you and I, isn't she?" He muses, his eyes shining with amusement when she finally picked her head up to see him 

"Quite," she says, mirth decorating her features, Charlie was naturally very excitable, but her biggest downfall was her inability to be discreet - she didn't know just how much her proclaimed OTP knew of her set up, and the two of them got quite the kick out of watching it all unfold. "You don't have to listen to her ramblings, mister, I don't wanna hear you complain!" She said with a laugh

"Who said I was complaining? Your sister is quite entertaining, her little matchmaker game is one of the highlights of my days at the hotel!" He replies, "And you, Ma petite chou, play quite the role in that, too. Your smile shines brighter than the sun ever dreamed!" 

She makes a face, unable to hide her light blush at his compliments, "I've never seen the sun, Al- and did you just call me a little cabbage?" 

He laughs, "It's a term of endearment, chér, the french use it to relate the subject to something small, round, and cute, which you my darling, are." He flirts, that familiar sparkle of amusement manifesting in his eyes once more, "and why have the sun when you exist in this world?" 

She rolls her eyes, her cheeks still burning slightly, "Why do you say such things to me? Charlie cannot hear, so there is hardly any cause for you to continue this game."

He seemed confused for a moment, "game? Oh darling, you wound me with your accusation. I may be a demon, but I am a man of my word, and though I admit I have a flair for the dramatic, none of my actions toward you have been anything short of genuine." He confesses, and the look on her face was one of complete shock.

Then in the most amazing twist, an excited smile graced her features

"So you're saying that Charlie is absolutely correct about us and after all of it, you really do like me, and I am the most oblivious being on this plane just like she said." 

He blinked, "now I'm not-"

She rolled her eyes again, shaking her head, "shut up and kiss me, you silly cabbage." 

He laughed then, humming "as you wish, mon drôle de petit chou" before spinning her about and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips

Before she could even process the situation she was in, she heard her sister squeal in delight at the sight of her parallel to the floor in the radio demon's arms, and she couldn't help the excited smile into Alastor's own at the sound.

[its--fandom--darling]

Good Impression

Pairing: Captain Syverson x Single Mom!Reader

Prompt: Giant

Rating: F for Fluff, just brief mentions of adult content. 

A/N: I think that Dad Sy coming from me was inevitable.

              Sy fiddles nervously with the sleeve of his shirt. It’d been so long since he’s worn dress clothes that they felt wrong and foreign on his tanned skin, but he’d wanted to make a good impression on his girlfriend’s daughter. He’d waited a long time to meet her, (Y/n) had wanted to be sure he was serious about their relationship before she’d introduced her to Lydia. Apparently, Lydia was very shy but got attached very easily. So after his honorable discharge, he spent his first months stateside convincing (y/n) that he was serious about her. He’d laid on the southern charm, pulled everything that his mother had instilled in him out of storage and he’d proven himself. It wasn’t easy, he carried a lot of baggage with him from the sand box, but you were caring and understanding. In the few nights that you’d stayed with him and he’s had his nightmares, you’d simply wrapped yourself around his back and pressed soft kisses to his neck and humming to him as he whimpered through the terrible nightmares. You’d helped him while he reorienting himself with civilian life and finally, finally decided that it was time for him to meet your little girl.

              Sy had been dating you a week when you’d told him about Lydia and how her father had left when she was just three. Now, she could barely remember the man that had abandoned her. Sy had felt for you, being a young mother easy, but being a young single mother was even harder. You told him that he’d need to be sure that this was what he’d wanted before he got to meet Lydia, because she wasn’t going to put her through something like this again. Sy nodded, taken your hand and kissed it softly.

              “I promise, I’ll prove it to you,” he’d drawled, making you smile. However life had other plans as he’d been redeployed two weeks later.

You’d been sad, but you’d written him, faithfully, once a week for the entirety of his deployment and he couldn’t have been more grateful for that. Those letters had only made his love for you grow deeper and by the time that he’d been sent home with ruptured eardrum, honorably discharged, he’d been more than ready to commit to you forever and now he stood at you door, waiting to meet the person who could make or break the course of your relationship. Taking a deep breath, he raised his fist to knock on the door. From the inside he could hear the patter of feet and your voice calling after your daughter as she flung open the door and stared up at him with big blue eyes. She’d observed him for a moment as you caught up with her and came to a stop behind her.

“Hi, Jase, glad you could make it,” you said, with a small smile.

              He nodded at you. “Glad to be here.” He plucks a single flower from the bouquet he’s holding and then offers it too you. “These are for you, darlin,” he says, blushing slightly as you take them.

“They’re beautiful, thank you,” you say, pressing your nose into the mess of wild flowers.

              Sy looks down at Lydia and gives her a grin. “And this here is for you, little lady.”

She takes it shyly before looking up at him. “Excuse me, are you a giant?”

You gasp slightly at your daughter’s question. “Lydia!”

              Sy breaks into a laugh before kneeling down to her level. “Sadly, I am not, little one. Is this better?”

She nods. “Thank you for my flower.”

              He flicks his gaze up to you and then meets hers again. “You’re very welcome. Now my name is Jase Syversion. But you can call me Sy if you want. What’s your name?”

“Lydia,” she whispers, quietly, sniffing her flower again.

              “That’s a real pretty name. Now, Lydia, you’re mama told me that you like ice cream is that true?”

She brightens up and nods, excitedly.

              “Well, I was hoping that I could take you and your mama out for a cone this evenin’. If that’s okay with you.”

She nods again.

              “So you’ll go with us?” Sy asks, standing up.

She shakes her head yes.

“Well then, why don’t you go get yourself ready and then we’ll go?” you say, softly stroking her hair.

“I need to put my shoes on!” she shouts, pushing past you and running towards her room.

              Sy chuckles as she runs down the hall as fast as her little feet will take her. “She’s a real cute kid, (y/n/n),” he says, standing back to his full height and stepping in to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I got really lucky,” you say, slipping an arm around his waist.    

              “So how did I do?” he asks, walking into the house with you.

You slip away and put your flowers in a vase before turning back to him. “You did an amazing job. You even took her giant question in stride.”

              He gets a mischievous glint in his eye. “I believe someone else asked me a similar question our first night together.”

You gasp and smack his arm gently. “Jase Syverson.”

              He chuckles and wraps his arms around your waist to tug you in for a proper kiss.

As his lips molded to yours, your hands found his chest and you hummed, contentedly. You kissed him until you heard Lydia’s little feet carrying her back out to the kitchen and you pulled away from him.

“You look really nice by the way,” you say, fixing the collar of his shirt before running a hand over his freshly trimmed beard.

              “I had to make a good impression on my future step kid, didn’t I?”

“Step-kid? What are you saying, Sy?”

              He smiles, “I’m saying that I wanna marry you, (y/n). Make a family with you and Lydia, maybe make a baby with you too.”

“Sy, I-“ you started, only to be interrupted by Lydia as she bounces into the kitchen with a flourish in her glittery high tops. “I’m ready!”

              “Great! Let’s go, we’ll finish this conversation later. But I’m all in, darlin’. 110%.” Sy says, with a genuine grin on his face before turning to face Lydia.

You’re stunned as you watch Lydia, slowly coming out of her shell with Sy.

               “Miss. Lydia, how do you feel about dogs?” Sy asks, her as they walk towards the door. 

She stops and looks up at him as you grab your purse from it’s hook. “I love doggies!” she squeals. 

              “Well then I’m gonna have to introduce you to my Aika,” he says, smiling at her. 

       “You have a dog?” she asks, excitement clear in her voice. He nods, “she’s at my house, if you’re mama says it ok. We can swing by my house and pick her up. She loves an ice cream cone, just as much as the next person.”

Lydia turns to you and fixes you with her patented puppy dog eyes. “Can we mama? Pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee?” She begs, you look at Sy, who is trying to hold back his laughter. You’d met Aika before and she was real sweet, so you nodded. 

“Yes, we can.”

 She squeals. “Thank you mama!” She shouts, turning back towards the door and grabbing Sy’s hand to tug him out the door excitedly. He glances over his shoulder at you and smiles happily. 

In a flash you can see the future with him play out in front of you like a movie. Christmases, birthdays, more babies running around with Aika and a puppy. You heart swells with love and hope as you return his smile. While you’d never expected that things with him would go this far and you hate to admit that you’d been fretting about this moment since you’d started dating Sy, so far he’d surprised you in every way. But as you thought about what he said and reflected on the future that played out for you, you knew that when he asked properly, which he would because Sy was a perfectionist through and through, you’d definitely be saying yes.

Tagging: @angryschnauzer @persephone-is-here-omg @salimahbicharara-comun @henrythickcavill @madbaddic7ed @soldatsaleannan​ @connieisland​ @iloveyouyen​

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

Miami

The “It’s you and me alright? This is it.” bit for @thatesqcrush Friends challenge doubling as a little Rafael/Rebecca moment. I'm excited to do these since I haven't seen friends and can kind of just go off titles and quotes.

When I Became a Man, I Put Childish Ways Behind Me Back Before You Lost the One Real Thing You’ve Ever Known Here We Are as in Olden Days Trust Me Abuelitas, Tantrums, and Ropa Vieja Happy Valentine’s Raf Bring Your Daughter to Court Day and Dad Friends Because You Don’t Have to do This Alone (If Rafael Answered the phone?)

“It’s a date night, Becs. Can’t we celebrate a year?”

“We can. I’m just surprised Lucia is letting us out on our own during a visit.”

“Mami and Enrique getting all of the grandkids in their house for a night to make cookies and watch Frozen? You’re right. Her worst nightmare."

“Point taken,” she laughed, smiling at him in the hotel room’s mirror. He’d told her he just thought they could use a night to themselves before the festivities. Unlike Lucia, Enrique had four kids who would be joining their dad for Christmas, and each kid had at least one of their own. That meant eight more adults and what totaled out to ten grandchildren, eleven with Catalina.

In reality, a ring box was weighing down the pocket of his slacks, and texts from his mother had been silenced. Abuelita’s ring had been sized and cleaned, and he planned to ask her at dinner if he could remember how to breathe until then. His head was spinning anytime he thought about it too long, and his chest would burn as he realized he was holding his breath. What if she said no? That was his worst nightmare because he hated the idea he was to finally make himself vulnerable in a new way. He hadn’t opened himself to as much rejection since they settled into a routine. Would this be a repeat of I love you so many years ago? He was different, wasn’t he?

It was probably more appropriate to wait until Christmas morning or New Year’s eve, but he wanted them to be alone, and the twenty adults and children joining their little family was too much. Catalina was spending the evening with grandparents, who themselves had recently eloped, and it would be nice to have Rebecca to himself in the aftermath. It shocked him to think about the fact he didn’t know a year ago about Catalina. He was preparing himself to apologize to Rebecca and pray she’d take him back, and now he was a year into fatherhood and a healthy relationship preparing to ask her to make it permanent.

Watching her do her make-up in the mirror was his favorite part of this hotel room. They’d checked in that morning and been thoroughly lazy. Now, he was taking her to dinner in Little Havanna at a place Enrique swore had live music and fantastic wine and paella. It was almost seventy degrees, even at night, and it felt like a treat to see Rebecca in a fluttering sundress and heels after so long bundled in winter coats. When she was almost ready, he tucked his white button-down into linen slacks, rolling up his sleeves. In the humidity, he’d given up on gelling his hair, so he combed his fingers through his beard before she gave a spin.

“I’m ready.”

“Hermosa como siempre, amor.”

“I like it when ya speak Spanish,” she grinned, waggling her brows. “And when you leave a few buttons undone.”

“Comportarse, chica sucia. Dinner.”

“Gladly, papi.” He put his hand on the small of her back as he led her to the street. Maybe he should do it on the walk. They were going to be early anyway. “There’s the bartender I don’t like.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“She was flirting with you!”

“It’s you and me, alright?” Rafael grinned, kissing her temple. “This is it. You set the bar way too high.”

“I like the sound of that. It’s nice in Florida. We could retire down here.”

“You’ll retire long after me.”

“I can work here a while or you can be retired in the city a while.”

“I’ll be ecstatic to be retired beside you. We both know I’ll have to keep myself busy either way.”

“You’ll work until the bitter end.”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll like being abuelito with you.”

“Sentimental.”

“Can you blame me?” he hummed, arm around her waist. “There’s a park near the restaurant. We’re a little early. Want to find a bench?”

“I’d like that a lot.”

They sat and watched the city, and Rafael could tell he ought to ask now instead of later. He was nervous, despite the fact they’d talked dozens of times about marriage and that they were ready and they wanted it. What if she changed her mind? He’d just have to accept they weren’t getting married yet.

Rafael had arranged a playdate for Catalina so he could overanalyze every moment in the park with Hank, and it was, frankly, a little embarrassing to be a fifty-year-old man being coached by a man barely in his thirties. Hank was as sure as Lucia and Olivia- and probably Rebecca herself- she’d say yes.

“Are you okay, Raf?” She’d caught him staring as the gears whirled in his head. It was no good to self-sabotage on the off chance she’d had a drastic change of heart in the last ten days.

“I’m wonderful,” he said softly, and Rebecca watched the softness of his gaze. Suddenly, he was moving, and her brow furrowed until she realized he was on one knee with a little velvet box in his hand. She gasped, eyes wide as her face split into a broad smile. Rafael was laughing, and despite the beard peppered with gray and lines in his face, he looked boyish and bashful as he took her hand in his. There were people nearby, and he felt himself start to sweat when he heard an abuelita gasp for her company to stop. People were watching, but there was no way she looked so happy and would say no.

“Raf-”

“Rebecca, let me actually ask.” She turned red, leaning forward where she sat so her forehead was almost against his. “Becs, I love you. I messed it up last time, but for whatever reason, you had enough faith in this to give me another chance. Showing up on your doorstep was the smartest thing I ever did. I am so immensely grateful. For you. For our daughter. For the life that we get to live. You’re home. You’re safety and peace and happiness, and I won’t ever do anything to put our family in danger again. You and Catalina make me better. I want this to be official. Rebecca, will you do me the immense honor of marrying me?”

“Por supuesto que sí,” she beamed, and Rafael realized he’d been crying. He did that now when he was overcome with how happy he was. Before he could fully process that she’d answered him in Spanish, something that touched him more than words could express, she was kissing him, her hands cupping his cheeks. When she pulled back, he reached for her left hand, pulling it from his cheek and fumbling as he slid the ring onto her finger.

“It was abuelita’s,” he whispered, brushing her hair back from her face.

“It’s an honor to wear it. And to marry her grandson.” Another kiss.

“I meant to ask at dinner but I was getting too nervous.”

“This was perfect.”

“Hola. Disculpa por interrumpir.” It was a man, phone held awkwardly in his hand. He could see an older woman watching him expectantly. “Mami me hizo filmarlo.”

“Gracias.” He gave his cell number, waving to the pair before turning back to Rebecca and pulling her close. “I’ve had that sized for a week.”

“When did you decide?” she teased, bumping his hip with her own.

“On the details? Or that I was proposing in December?”

“Both?”

“Details, a month ago. December? Probably January.”

“You’re a hopeless romantic now, you know that?”

“And you’re going to be Rebecca Barba.”

“Does Lucia know?”

“I had to mute her. Want me to see how many messages since I last checked?” He scrolled to it, humming. “Twenty new notifications. In an hour. Four are venues. Two are mother of the groom dresses. Is that a thing? Six houses in Miami. Dios mio, mami is having a field day. And Hank sent ‘Get out of your head. She’ll say yes. If you chicken out, I’m sending her a check yes or no note for you.’”

“I like you having dad friends who call you out.”

“Yea, yeah,” he smiled, arm around her. “I have a fiance to take to dinner and dancing.”

“You’ll even go dancing in public?”

“Sólo en Miami con mi prometida.”

[ri-ahhh]

for the win

After dealing with a lifetime of insecurities, Winnie Walker finally gets the courage to pursue her dreams, with a few bumps along the way. But that confidence may not carry over when it comes to a certain hazel-eyed football player who’s had her attention for much too long.

A/N: this was a random inspo that hit me out of nowhere a while ago and I was gonna make it an epic oneshot, but I think I’ll just break it into parts instead. So, hence, this is part one. Hopefully you like it enough for it to be even worth posting more.

warnings: none yet, other than this is def gonna be as cheesy as you think it is

***

Winnie Walker has always considered herself an enigma. Not in that annoying, ‘I’m so cute and quirky’ type of way, but rather in the way that made her someone who never quite fit into one defined space. The kind perfected by years of self doubt, an emotionally distant mother, and the random ebb and flow of confidences and insecurities that always helps her remember that she is, in fact, perfectly un-extraordinary: her face is too round, but she’s always been called pretty; her personality is dry enough that she finds it challenging making female friends, but she fits in well with the boys; and she has a penchant for being the last one to talk about anything she might be feeling until she puts a pen to paper and speaks through the mouths of others.

Sports and writing were her main passions, but it still took until her senior year of high school to decide that she wanted to be a sports journalist. Not just a journalist, though -- more than anything, she dreamed of stepping out into the light as a broadcaster. Shy by nature but an athlete at heart, it once again put her in that enigmatic grey space where she wasn’t sure what the hell she was thinking.

But it’s what her heart was calling for her to do. For the first time in her life, Winnie Walker felt sure about something despite everyone’s doubts -- including her own. She grew up an athlete, and some of her fondest memories as a child were caught between either being in her dad’s man cave with all of his friends, cheering on their team of choice for whatever sport was on, discussing heatedly what plays should or shouldn’t have taken place. Or, on the volleyball court. 

The full ride offer from USC that was presented but never came to fruition because of a devastating knee injury in one of her last club tournaments haunted Winnie in the months leading up to her high school graduation. 

Her mother, Dahlia, was not-so-secretly thrilled. A stage mother through and through, she had always supported her daughter as she made headway in her sport as a star player, but it was an open point of contention that Winnie planned to follow her passion for it all the way to college. She wanted her middle daughter to attend the local university, get a nice marketing degree, and settle into a high rise in downtown Dallas, where she could point at during brunch with her friends and brag about the pretty penny her kid made with her perfectly nice degree she attained in her perfectly nice hometown. 

That’s not Winnie, though, and everyone except Dahlia knew it. No one was all too surprised that she still wanted to escape to California (again, except her mother), even if they were slightly shocked about her decision for a major. The reactions from her friends and sisters and dad had her even more excited as she scanned the email of her academic acceptance into USC. It finally gave her the courage to spill the beans to her mother as well.

Dahlia Walker very much scoffed in the face of her quiet, introverted, hopeful daughter sitting across the kitchen island while she scrubbed at the dishes from dinner.

“Winona, sweetie, you refused to even speak at your sister’s wedding as the maid of honor, and you want to be on TV? With all those... men?”

Winnie cringed a little bit and rolled her eyes at the slightly far-off look on her mother’s face as she no doubt started imagining the sweaty athletes the reporters would stand next to post-game.

“You don’t think I could do it?” she asked flatly, flicking a chip of her nail polish off her finger so it flew across the otherwise spotless granite — her mom hated when she did that. 

Dahlia’s hands picked up their pace again in the suds, slowed down by whatever middle-aged fantasy was going on in her mind. She shook her head, the highlights in her perfectly styled blonde bob shifting under the recessed lights.

“The girls who do that are just so bouncy. Friendly. They curl their hair.”

Winnie bit her lip. She didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Her body felt deflated. “I knew I could count on you to be supportive.”

“Oh honey, I’m just trying to be realistic with you,” her mother said dismissively. Like she didn’t realize the pang her words caused to spread in Winnie’s chest; it should have been be all-too familiar by then, but the sting was never weakened with age or predictability. “And California? Are you really ready to be so far from home? You hardly ever even leave your room.”

It had taken everything in Winnie to hold back the open scoff she longed to throw at her mother; instead, she just stood up and left the kitchen, along with any childish hope that Dahlia might ever make an effort to really know her middle daughter.

Because anyone that knew Winona Elle Walker could predict just how much she would thrive in California. In the persistent sunshine that never quite reached the peak of being too hot for very long, unlike the nearly six months of 90 and 100-plus degree days of summer she knew so well in Texas. Within close proximity to a beach that didn’t have swamp-colored water washing ashore.

In a place well over a thousand miles away from Dahlia.

And that’s exactly how Winnie found herself in LA: thriving. She made friends easily, enjoyed life on the USC campus while she studied the exact major she had set out for the first day she sat down in her first class -- Navigating News in the Digital Age class -- and it was a relatively cheap flight home if she ever missed it too much. Winnie started feeling less like an enigma, and more like someone whose quirks were becoming more of a benefit to her success than she could have ever imagined.

Now, as a woman in her senior year, nearly 22 and set to graduate in only a few months time, she’s finally up for the most coveted position in her major: being the prime time student reporter at the biggest sporting events of the school’s entire athletic program — the Trojan football games. Reporting at football games was a job always reserved for seniors, and she had been driving her roommate — and best friend in California — Naomi crazy all summer prepping for the spot’s audition.

“Winnie, babe, you know the plays backwards and forwards. You’ve understood more about the rules of football since you were a kid than I’ll ever know as a grown woman. You have all the key players’ and coaches’ names and numbers memorized. You couldn’t be any more prepared,” she smiles, good-natured irritation clear in her eyes and behind the blinding smile that shone from her mocha-colored skin.

It softens some when Winnie stood from the couch, and Naomi reaches over and slaps her retreating ass just hard enough to make Winnie yelp and giggle. “Not to mention those squats are paying off big time, bitch. You’re gonna kill it.”

Winnie rolls her eyes and continues to make her way to the kitchen to refill her wine glass. “The camera won’t see my ass, but thanks.”

Naomi winks. “No. But Grayson Dolan might.”

Grayson Dolan — the walk-on that had stunned everyone when he was thrown into a game his freshman year after two of the starting tight ends had become injured on two consecutive plays. Now a senior himself, he’s led the team ever since in receiving yards, receptions, and TD’s, and is a clear prospect for the NFL in the coming months.

He also happens to be the player Winnie had drunkenly admitted she had a crush on during a girls night last year, and her friends have yet to let her live it down. She had felt ridiculous saying she had a crush as a 21 year-old, but that’s really all it was; he was hot, an extremely talented player, and she barely knew him beyond that one time he had spilled a drink on her at a frat party, and the rather interesting reputation that followed him around campus. There was nothing more to it.

Even if her attraction to him hasn’t died down in the passing time.

Winnie only blushes and pours herself a little extra, blaming the Maison No. 9 when Naomi throws her head back with a cackle and calls out the matching pink in her cheeks.

The morning of her audition, a mere two weeks into her fall semester, Winnie has butterflies fluttering madly in the pit of her belly. Her truer nature of being somewhat shy and timid in these situations has never left, always flaring up in moments of self-doubt and unpredictability. Undoubtedly, however, this audition deserves all the nerves; it’s a clear stepping stone into network broadcasting, and would almost guarantee her a spot as an intern at FOX Sports next semester.

She stares at herself in the mirror for a moment, silently urging herself to get her shit together, and takes a deep breath before eyeing Naomi’s curling iron plugged in by the sink adjacent to her own.

Winnie hasn’t curled her hair once in the nearly four years she’d been in LA. Not for nights out, or auditions, or even a date. A brief moment of madness overtakes her as she stands there staring at the metal device, her hand starting to reach out as words that should be long forgotten ring loud and clear in her head. For a second, the pale beige paint of her apartment bathroom turns the light blue and grey color scheme of her childhood one. Her mom had ‘surprised’ her with the the renovation one year when she decided to redecorate the house while Winnie was at volleyball camp, insisting she had chosen Winnie’s favorite colors, when in reality it simply matched the rest of the monotone suburban house that Winnie secretly couldn’t stand. It was boring, and typical, and...stuck, despite its relative newness.

With that, the fog clears as quickly as it had come, and she sets her jaw determinedly. She hasn’t let Dahlia psych her out for this long; she isn’t about to let now be the first time since she’s been out here on her own.

And maybe Naomi was right. Maybe she’d catch a certain tight end’s eye with a tight end of her own, after all.

The nausea suddenly returns as she shakes her head and reaches for her straightener instead, flicking it on before sectioning off her hair.

“No wonder you’re so fucking single, Win.”

[mysticeyeliner]

SA Fanfiction! Ilse getting help to heal from her friends! Part 1

Chapters 1-3, 2,921 words

IDK how to name fics lol but this gets it across. I’ve never posted fics before but I wanted to share this

Tw: Rape mentions, Abuse mentions, Alcoholism and drug addiction

Also includes homelessness, running away

"...Ilse?" Ilse glanced up from her spot in the dirt, seeing Anna standing with Moritz. They looked concerned. "Are you alright?" Anna asked. "I'm- I'm fine. Just hanging out before I leave again." "In the dirt?" Moritz asked. She ran her hands through the clover patch on the ground. "Picking flowers,' she said with a smile. "Can...Ilse, can you come with us for a moment? Moritz beckoned to her. She stood, concerned but too curious to say no. She really only paused to think. So maybe it was in a shadowed alley between two houses, but she hadn't been doing anything. Anna took her hand and smiled. She started swinging it like they were still young girls. Hell, Anna still had the same bows in her hair. They stepped up into her house, which always smelled of tea and fresh flowers. Moritz pulled out chairs from the table while Anna closed the door. Ilse suspiciously sat down and averted her eyes to the blue and pink embroidery of the tablecloth. "Can I make us all some tea?' Anna asked, already pulling out a jar of rose petals from a cabinet. That was the fancy stuff her mother always made when she had guests over, sometimes while they all played outside and only half tried to be quiet. Moritz nodded, and Anna began the rose tea. "We wanted to talk to you. About some stuff," he said. "What stuff? Are you planning something?" Ilse asked. "No, it's...you. We're worried about you. You haven't done anything wrong, but you're not Okay. I don't know what exactly you've been through, but the way you act, the things you say and do...it's not like the Ilse we know. We love you. But Priapia, being away from home...you're too lonely and you have trauma and addiction. I just, we want you to talk to us." Anna came around holding three steaming teacups in her fingers and a bowl of sugar. "We don't hate you, please don't think that, we just know somethings wrong. We're your friends. Please." Ilse stirred her fingers around in her pocket, brushing against the clovers she stuffed in it. "I- I don't know what to...to say." "Then drink." Anna passed her a teacup with marigolds painted on the base. Ilse took a sip, letting the warmth flood through her chest. Anna watched her, stirring several teaspoons of sugar into her own drink. "Martha got beaten. A lot." She looked down into her cup. "I don't know if I'm supposed to tell you thqat, but it's true. She hid it from us. I'll never understand why, but eventually Wendla up and reported her papa. Martha doesn't get hit anymore." Ilse had guessed. She'd seen it, in the long clothing she wore, her demeanor. it was the same as Ilse's own. Thank goodness it was over. "My father isn't a good one either. Nothing compared to what Martha went through, but...still. You're not alone, Ilse. Other people can understand your pain. You have no one to talk to back in that artists' colony, but we're here with you now." Ilse swallowed. She didn't prepare for this. Anna drank some tea, then stood up from her chair and positioned one behind Ilse. "Can you tell us what's happening?" "I- I don't want to burden you- I mean. I don't believe you really want to help me." Ilse's voice cracked. "Oh, we do, trust me," Moritz smiled. "This is all we want to do today. You're not burdening us, I promise we want to be here, listening to and helping you." Anna started gently pulling her fingers through Ilse's hair. About half of them caught on tangles that Ilse rarely bothered to brush out herself. Anna got to work, gently unknotting them. "It's..it's a Lot. I'm used to it by now. The drinking, the smoking..." "Is that all there is?" Anna asked. Ilse brushed her sleeve against her nose. "No." She squeezed her eyes shut. Moritz gently grabbed her hand. "I- I wish I could say I'm used to the violation. The..." She opened her eyes. "But sometimes, all the time, I'm not. Sometimes they start pulling me back to their beds and I'm too drunk to know better, or only enough to know what will happen if I resist. Sometimes they just push me against their walls and there's nothing I can do. Once, the first time, I tried to hit him back, and I ended up with a black eye sleeping out in the freezing cold for two nights. It's a miracle no one killed me then or worse. But every time, I can't stop wondering if I deserve it, thinking maybe it was on purpose. Maybe I wanted it and there's just something sickly wrong with me. Like it's all my fault and I can't blame anyone but myself." A tear fell. "Ilse," Anna said gently. "I know that's not true. I know who you are. You would never. It's those men, they're sick. You're, Lord, you're only fifteen. You were, what, thirteen then?" Ilse nodded. Moritz handed her her teacup. "Wendla was raped. I wish it wasn't true, but it is. She never asked for that. She didn't know what was happening. But I see her ask herself every day if she wanted it. From what I hear, it wasn't clear. But I really don't think she consented to that. No victim deserves to doubt themselves every day, no one deserves to ask if they secrelty desired trauma. But I think, maybe they all do. Look, Wendla is kind and young and caring. She would never ask for that." Anna said, "And you're wild and hopeful and just trying to be free and safe. Please, try and believe us, you didn't deserve that, no matter what you did." Ilse started crying. Moritz reached out and she grabbed him in a hug. He held on tight to her. "You're our friend. We never want you to be hurt again." "That's what they'll do when I go back," she sobbed. "They'll beat me too. They'll get me drunk and make me pose naked and get me high and there's nothing I can do about it." "Stay with us tonight," Anna said, putting a hand on Ilse's knee. "I'll keep you safe in my sister's old bedroom. Or you can come into mine, if you'd like." "They're expecting me back. They won't like it if I'm not." "They won't find you. I promise, Ilse. You never have to go back there," Moritz said. Ilse put her cup down. "I don't deserve your protection." "Yes you do. And it would mean the world to me if you just spent the night here." She looked Anna in the eyes. Ilse couldn't understand every emotion she felt. Still, she told her yes. ====== Ilse stood in Anna's washroom, washing her face off and looking in the mirror. Not the worst she'd seen herself. And at least her hair looked nicer. She felt the heavy prescence in her boot and pulled it out. A flask mostly filled with liquor. She couldn't keep doing this. She always told herself she wasn't a drunk, she couldn't be, but the flask would beg to differ. God, she didn't know if she could get over this. "Ilse?" A call from down the stairs. She set the flask on the counter and went to see Moritz. "I'm gonna go now. I'll be back tomorrow?" She smiled and hugged him. "Of course. And, I'm sorry about your dad. Is there anything I can do?" He grimaced and shook his head no. Then he squeezed her hand and said, "Don't let Anna put bows in your hair. She's tempting, but it isn't worth it." He shuddered. Both girls waved him goodbye. As soon as Moritz closed the door, Ilse said, "He's the next project, right?" "I don't think of you as a project, Ilse. But, I'm not sure there's much I can do to help him. He just failed school, he doesn't have many places to go..." "Christ, I forgot about that. I with I could help him." "He's doing okay. Better than you have been. Now come here." Anna beckoned for her to sit on the rug in the living room with her. She held a notepad and a pencil. "Mama gets home in an hour. We can have supper then. But what do you want to do after that?" "...Do we need to do much?" "Yes! I'm here to make you feel better, so we're gonna talk some, especially with Moritz again tomorrow, maybe Wendla, but for now?  It's sleepover time." Ilse groaned that she had been pulled into this. But Anna played the mother half the times they played house as kids, so at least her stay would be comfortable. "Wanna come to my room?" Anna asked. "Sure." Ilse followed her up the stairs to a room with pink curtains and a bed covered in stuffed animals. "Oh, is this Soby?" she asked, picking up an old pink bunny. "I still sleep with him every night," Anna said proudly. She carefully moved every animal off the bed onto her floor. "Do you want to sleep here tonight, with me? I have plenty of blankets." Ilse was hesitant. "I don't want to intrude." "Please! I want to make sure you feel safe." She began smoothing her sheets out. Ilse moved to look out her window for a minute. "They're not going to find you, Ilse. And they won't be mad at you. As long as you never go back, that is." Ilse sighed and pressed her head against the glass. What was she going to do? "They don't deserve you. For anything. No one does, really." Anna came up and put a gentle hand on Ilse's shoulder. "I'm honored to have you as my guest, Miss." She swept into a curtsy. "For now, the best you can do is just stay here for the night. And a good long sleep in my very comfy bed will help you." "Okay," Ilse breathed. She walked over and picked up Soby, staring into her stitched on eyes. "For now, if you're not too tired..." Anna opened the door to her closet. Inside were numerous dresses with ruffles and bows. She grinned evilly at Ilse. "Noooo!" Ilse ran from her as Anna pulled a purple dress from inside and chased after her. --- Ilse was caught and turned into a doll for Anna. She was grumpily adorned in the purple dress, which had flower details on its sleeves, much like everything here. But before Anna could start on the rest of her, Anna's mother got home. "Oh! Mama, Ilse's staying here for the night. We're having a sleepover." Ilse emerged in her pouffy dress with an exaggerated frown. "Be nice to that poor girl." Frau Wheelan shook her head and started cooking supper. "She doesn't need to know why," Anna said softly, taking Ilse's hand. "But in the meantime..." Anna lifted part of Ilse's hair. Ilse dashed away from her saying no with a smile. Frau Wheelan called her daughter down to help with dinner. Ilse looked down at this princess dress again and craved a hit. No. No, she couldn't think like that. She had to stop. Soon enough it was suppertime. "Go clean your hands!" Anna's mother told them both. Ilse helped set the table while Anna went up to the washroom. "Ilse, it's been a while since I've seen you, dear." "Yeah, I haven't been up to much. It's lovely to see you, though." Her mother smiled and went to bring the food out. Anna came out of the washroom looking a little uncomfortable, sad maybe. Ilse was going to ask about it, but Anna saw food and her face lit up. "Let's eat!" Frau Wheelan declared. ===== They had pieces of seasoned chicken to eat. Despite disliking this dress, Ilse was sure to not drop anything on it. "Ilse, where have you been all this time?" Frau Wheelan asked. "Um...I'm living with some artists. Splitting rent." "Oh! Do you paint?" "I do." Ilse blushed. "And how's life treating you?" Ilse turned even redder. "Mama, can we not shower her in questions? Tell me how I should do her hair with this gown." "Please, she looks miserable...but some bows wouldn't hurt..." "Ooh, can we make hot chocolate after dinner? I wanna put on fuzzy socks and tell stories by the fire before bed." "Of course. Just make sure to go to bed at a reasonable hour." When they cleared their plates and Anna and her mother put dishes away (Ilse was quickly dismissed from the task) and Frau Wheelan went to go read, Anna went to the washroom again and came down to talk to Ilse. "Sorry she asked all that. You definitely don't need to give her details. She's just excited to see you." "It's okay. I'd be curious too." Ilse glanced at a clock. "Ilse, be honest with me...is this yours?" Ilse turned and saw Anna pull out the flask. Which she has left in the washroom. "Um..." Her silence said enough. Anna's voice got sad and quiet. "Look, I'm not trying to judge you. i just need to know how often you do this. How often you drink. Is it a serious problem? Do you need it?" "I...I wish I could say that wasn't mine. I don't want to be a drunk. I just, I'm so used to it...to always being a little inebriated...it makes it harder to feel the pain." "Are you wounded? Is that the pain?" "No." Ilse looked down sadly. "Okay. I'm here to help you. With everything. Any problem you have." "I have a lot. I'm not sure you want to get involved." "You're my friend. I'm always gonna be here for you." Anna touched Ilse's face. "If it makes you feel better, you can help me in return by letting me style your hair." --- Two braided pigtails later, Anna and Ilse were sitting around Anna's fireplace drinking hot chocolate. Ilse had socks on her feet for the first time in years, covering the blisters she was always getting. "No one's cared for me so well in a while." "Well, they should. You deserve it. You've always deserved it. Just wait until I make you take a bubble bath." It had been many years since she'd had one of those. "Wendla is hopefully coming tomorrow. Maybe Martha too. We can talk and figure something out for you. You don't need to go back there." "...I left my paint back there." "I'll buy new paints for you. I have some here. They're old, from a phase, but they should work in the meantime." Ilse smiled. "Thank you. It means a lot." "Of course. And might I just say, you look lovely." "Not my style, but thank you." "We'll all get you clothes you like. That show who you are. Until we figure that out, you can use mine. Your green dress needs a lot of cleaning anyway." "It's fine." "You sat in the dirt in it today." Ilse got closer to Anna until they shared a blanket. "We can go to bed whenever you want, okay? I'm pretty blind to other people's fatigue." Ilse nodded and continued watching the fire. ---- Anna offered her a light blue nightgown, this one without any embellishments. Ilse changed in the washroom, watching herself in the mirror. She hadn't seen herself look this nice- this well-treated- in years. Since even before she left for Priapia. Her brushed, styled hair and not-cheap dress just for sleeping in, her stomach filled from eating right... This didn't feel like her anymore. Maybe the old version of her wasn't right, and she was meant to be a dirty teenage artist who spent her nights between the beds of men and women that she would have to treat with respect the next day. "There's a spare toothbrush and paste in the drawer!" Anna called. A commodity she didn't have for the last two years. The paste tasted weird in her mouth, but, knowing she was doing something good for herself, cleaning herself, it meant something. A small change. A good change. She washed her face again and came back to Anna's room. It had electric lights as well as candle jars with flickering painted roses on them. Anna sat on her bed, adorned in a pink nightgown with plenty of bows. "I got you a glass of water," she said with a yawn. "Now come on in here." Anna turned out her lights, leaving the candles glowing. Ilse followed her, sitting on the cushy bed, facing the door. Faint moonlight shone through the window. Anna pulled out a sleep mask and placed it on her own head. "I'll tuck you in." Ilse slid under the soft covers and layed her head back. These pillows were better quality than she was used to. Anna reached over and pulled the covers up to Ilse's shoulders, then tucked herself in right next to her and pulled the mask down. "Goodnight. I'll see you in the morning," Anna yawned again. "See you," Ilse whispered. A glowing bedroom, goodnights, precious quiet. Someone softly falling sleep next to her, who wouldn't do anything to her. She missed it. Still, she needed something else. Ilse sat up and grabbed Soby with her fingertips, pulling her up by the ears. The soft bunny felt nice in her arms. She tucked herself back in and snuggled the bunny until she slept.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

writer’s month prompts

prompt twenty-one:  family (this bit of captain cobra fluff was suggested by @katie-dub​ -- who apparently shares my obsession)

full collection on AO3

It’s been years and Henry still has a terrible poker face; just, he’s really bad at lying, which is pretty dumb considering who his family is, he must get that from Grandpa, because out of all of them Prince Charming is hands down the worst liar in the group. So of course Killian immediately suspects something.

Like, jeez, it’s just an envelope, it’s not a Dark Curse. The Black Fairy, or--crap, his grandfather--would never be so boring. He can imagine the dismissive handwave from Regina, too, all how pedestrian, like she’s never seen something so ridiculous in her life. Seriously.

It’s an envelope that Henry spent way too long looking at over at Doc’s--not the envelope, really, but what’s inside of it, and the way he sweated over every word even though he was literally writing it with a magical pen.

His handwriting is awful and Killian likes to tease him about it and Henry always laughs and says, “Whatever, old man, some of us didn’t have actual centuries to practice our copperplate and make it perfect.”

Belle always laughs, too, when he says that. The way that Belle laughs at Killian makes Henry laugh, too, and it fills up the library shelves while they’re re-stacking or sitting in the back room drinking her favorite tea or just reading, Henry begging Belle to pull in subscriptions to his favorite comics while Killian--badly--attempts to catch up on a couple of centuries of pop culture.

He still hasn’t seen Star Wars, but that is mostly because whenever Emma says “Hey, you wanna go home and see what’s on Netflix?” that’s Henry’s cue to stay at Regina’s, instead. He’s got enough emotional scars already without having to listen to that.

And sometimes it’s really obvious that Killian’s only known a few kids in his entire life, like when he winks and says, “Come now, lad, enjoyment of sexual activities can be an important part of your life” and Henry tries not to vomit or roll his eyes--but then again, there’s Violet, isn’t there? And Henry knows who he’ll be going to with any Questions he has on that front when he’s ready. If he’s ready.

But his mom is happy, like--so, so, happy--happy in ways that Henry didn’t know a person could be happy. And it’s because of Henry, true, and also because of his grandparents and even Regina but it’s mostly because of Killian.

Henry’s happy, too, happy in ways he didn’t know he could be when he was ten years old and knocking on a stranger’s door in Boston after stealing a credit card and getting on a bus with a storybook that turned out to be real.

Hence the envelope. And the card.

They’re not big on holidays in Storybrooke except for that one freak year during the curse when they’d all remembered Valentine’s Day, all the other days subsumed by apocalypses and impending doom, which is probably why Doc has so many cards in stock. Most of them are out of date and really weird, but it’s June and time hasn’t stopped--yet--this year, or at least it hasn’t since the last curse, and the Black Fairy is behind them and his mom got married.

Henry hadn’t even known that was a thing she’d wanted to do, but leave it to the three-hundred-year-old self-proclaimed ‘man of honor’ to get all traditional about things, and now--well. Henry’s got a big family these days but he doesn’t have a dad and he misses his father but really it’s more like he misses the idea of him because he’d barely known Neal at all and then he was gone and his mom was really kind of a wreck about it and Killian had been the one to explain it to him, about his complicated history with Neal and Emma’s complicated history with Neal.

Killian had explained a lot of things. Astronomy and sword fighting and how to cheat at dice and how to win at cards and how to fight dirty when you had to but how to always avoid fighting dirty by having a plan for every situation. How to sail and tie knots and built fires and how to cook, because Killian refused to let his mother do anything besides occasionally scramble eggs.

“The trick with food is to make it edible, love,” he said whenever Emma complained, but Henry always put his foot down when it came to the subject of boiled mackerel.

There’s lox and bagels for breakfast on the morning of the third Sunday in June; or at least, Henry had sweet-talked Emma into poofing some up from New York because Maine had a lot of things but lox and bagels only counted when they were from New York.

But before they eat, Henry hands the envelope to Killian.

Killian holds it and stares and, finally, after deeming the pieces of paper non-threatening, slits the edges with his hook. There’s a swift intake of breath and the card is back on the table and Henry’s pulled into a hug that almost rivals one of Grandpa’s.

The card is mostly blank except for Henry’s sub-par (but still magical) handwriting. 

Thank you, Dad.

“You���re welcome, my boy,” Killian whispers.

--

full list of prompts

--

@profdanglaisstuff​ @thisonesatellite​ @kmomof4​ @shireness-says​ @optomisticgirl​ @spartanguard​ @carpedzem​ @karl0ta​ @captain-emmajones​ @lfh1226-linda​ @mariakov81​ @withaheartfulloflove​

[thinkingisadangerouspastime]

all i know is gone (but i am not alone)

summary: “I want you to make me a promise, Avatar Aang,” Katara whispered. This time, when she placed her hand on top of his, he didn’t pull away. “When this is all over, when the war is won… Promise me that you’ll grieve.”

(alternatively: grieving is hard. aang’s friends work harder. a series of missing/expanded scenes from a:tla exploring aang’s grief through his friends’ eyes.)

i’ve been wanting to write an atla fic for a while now because there is not enough aang-centric content in the fandom and i am determined to fill that void (by myself if i must!!). if the read-more doesn’t work, please let me know!

~*~

1. katara: the world should have protected him… instead he has been asked to protect it. what an honor. no… what an injustice. (kids shouldn’t be fighting wars.)

It wasn’t fair was Katara’s immediate thought as she stared up at the starry night sky. If she was being honest with herself, ‘it wasn’t fair’ was often Katara’s constant thought, cruel proof of their painful reality that forever lingered in the back of her mind. A thought she wasn’t sure she’d ever be rid of. Her people hadn’t been free of it for a hundred years.

It wasn’t fair that her and Sokka’s dad had left to fight in an unwinnable war, that he’d abandoned them when they were only kids. It wasn’t fair that she’d had to be the one to find her mother’s brutally slain body, her mother who’d sacrificed her life to protect her. It wasn’t fair that she and Sokka had been forced to grow up before they had a chance to be young, that they’d been robbed of their childhood before they’d had time to be a child.

And Aang… Well, the world was cruelest to the kindest, wasn’t it?

It wasn’t fair that Aang had been the one to discover Monk Gyatso’s skeleton. It wasn’t fair that his entire people, every Air Nomad had been slaughtered a century ago and that he’d been forced to experience such an incomprehensible loss all at once. It wasn’t even fair that he was the Avatar, that the responsibility of stopping the war and saving the world was solely his to bear.

And even if that responsibility didn’t have to be his and his alone, Katara could tell Aang would make it so. Because that was simply how he was. He was hope incarnate, kind, unabashedly good - and Katara prayed the war wouldn’t strip him to the bone.

Waterbenders rose with the moon, hence why Katara was awake in the dead of night when she knew she should have been sleeping. The sky was clear. She couldn’t say the same for her mind.

Sokka had wrapped himself tightly in his sleeping bag, his lips parting ever so often to release a quiet snore, a sound that was usually annoying but now provided her at least a semblance of normalcy to life in the South Pole. The lemur - Momo, she was pretty sure he’d been dubbed - was curled up at Aang’s feet, while Aang himself lay snuggled into Appa’s side. His eyebrows were furrowed with an odd intensity that she wasn’t used to seeing on his face, and she absentmindedly wondered what he might be dreaming about.

Of course, just because she wondered didn’t mean she would die if she didn’t know, but the universe had a funny way of thrusting things upon her.

“No,” Aang murmured, rolling flat onto his back, his eyes squeezed tightly shut. “No. Gyatso…”

Katara noticed a slight breeze picking up through their makeshift campsite, and she pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders.

“Gyatso… I’m sorry. No - please, no!”

Katara’s eyes widened as she realized the wind was only getting stronger - and that its gradual increase seemed to be in perfect synchronization with Aang’s distressed mumbling. Was he going to enter the Avatar state?! Spirits, she didn’t know.

Okay. She needed to think rationally. She - She could do her best to calm him down and make sure their camp didn’t get blown away by Aang’s dream-induced bending. Yes, that was her plan. And hopefully she’d avoid waking Sokka up in the process.

“Aang?” she whispered, crawling over to him and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Aang, you need to wake up.”

He didn’t seem to hear her, his eyes still stiffly clenched shut. Momo had moved, too, having been woken up by the newfound breeze stirring around the camp. He was chittering next to Aang’s head, though the additional noise again seemed ineffective as the wind only picked up further. It was amazing how Sokka was sleeping through it all.

“Aang!” Katara tried again, raising her voice and trying to lightly shake his shoulder. “Aang, you’re going to blow away the camp! Wake up!” She was exaggerating, maybe, though the wind had increased to the point where her braid was starting to whip around over her shoulder. “Aang, please!”

“I’m sorry,” Aang whispered, and Katara’s heart skipped a beat before she realized he hadn’t been speaking to her. “It’s my fault, Gyatso. They’re all gone.”

Katara’s heart proceeded to drop into her stomach as what he was dreaming about finally clicked in her mind. “Oh, no,” she breathed. She redoubled her efforts to wake him, no longer caring if Sokka accidentally woke up, too, in the process. “It’s just a dream, Aang! It’s not” - spirits, it was real, she couldn’t lie to him - “You’re with Sokka and I now! We aren’t at the air temple anymore. Please, wake up!”

With one final shake, Aang sat bolt upright, and the wind that had been swirling around him like the beginnings of a tornado was suddenly blasted outwards, and Katara couldn’t stop the yelp that escaped her lips as she found herself literally being blown violently across the camp.

“Katara!” Aang cried, his eyes still hazy with sleep but rapidly clearing. He jumped to his feet, reaching out before pulling his hands back towards him. The air obeyed, and Katara breathed a quiet sigh of relief as she was slowly lowered back to the ground in front of Aang.

For a moment, neither spoke, both simply staring at the other as they tried to get a grasp on everything that had transpired in the last minute and a half. At least that was what Katara found herself doing. Maybe Aang was still trying to fully wake up.

Then Sokka let out a particularly loud snore, and the quiet moment was shattered.

“I’m so, so sorry, Katara!” Aang apologized, his words tumbling out of him like a waterfall. “I haven’t - I haven’t bended in my sleep like that since I was - maybe five? I don’t know what happened!” He hesitated, then looked up at her with wide, concerned eyes. “Are you okay?”

And if Katara’s heart fluttered, she ignored it.

“I’m fine,” she reassured him, sitting next to Appa’s leg and taking one of her friend’s hands to gently pull him down to the ground beside her. “I’m more worried about you, Aang.” She released his hand, placing both of hers in her lap. “Do you want to talk about your dream?”

The color drained from Aang’s face. “What?”

This was harder than Katara thought it was going to be. “You were having some kind of nightmare,” she pressed on. “About Gyatso, and… the other Air Nomads?”

Aang stiffened at her words, breaking eye contact. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Aang…” She gave him as soft of a smile as she could muster. “You are incredibly talented at many things, but I don’t think lying is one of them.” She reached out to place her hand on top of his, wincing slightly as he pulled away. “It’s… It’s okay to feel sad, Aang. Today has been really hard and confusing for you” - her descriptions didn’t even begin to cover it, she knew - “and if you want to talk about it, then I’m here to listen.”

At first, Aang said nothing. Then he sighed. “I… can’t believe it’s been a hundred years.”

Katara couldn’t either, if she was honest. The idea of him surviving in an iceberg for a century was impossible for her to wrap her mind around.

“And… And now I’m the last airbender in the whole world,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of the other Air Nomads are gone because I wasn’t there to protect them when the Fire Nation kil-” He took a shuddering breath, cutting himself off. “I’m the Avatar. I should have been able to do something, saved someone -”

“Aang, no,” Katara said, horrified by the thought that he’d blame himself for the death of the Air Nomads. “The Fire Nation, Fire Lord Sozin - they’re the ones to blame for…” Spirits, she couldn’t even bring herself to articulate the atrocity that had been committed. “For what happened to the Air Nomads. Not you. There was nothing you could have done, Aang, except…” Except die with them, she realized. And then… there would have been no hope at all.

She would never have met him, either.

“It’s not your fault, okay?” she finished. “And - And maybe there are still airbenders left!” Even if they hadn’t been seen in over a hundred years, who was to say that they hadn’t gone into hiding? Blending in among other nations? She herself still held out hope that waterbenders besides her from the Southern Water Tribe were still alive, maybe in the Earth Kingdom or even with the Northern Tribe.

There was a heaviness to Aang’s shoulders that told her he didn’t believe her words, but he didn’t argue, either. “The monks taught me that happiness is a choice,” he finally said, his fists clenching in his lap as his expression grew steely. “I’m the Avatar. That means I can’t let myself be weighed down by what happened a hundred years ago. I have to master the other three elements so I can end this war and save everyone, but I - I can choose to seek joy during my journey, too.”

Although he sounded almost as if he was reciting a creed or a mantra, Katara knew his words were sincere. Just from his one assertion she couldn’t help but be reminded of how the Air Nomads were the most enlightened of the four nations, or so Gran Gran had told her when she was little. Of all people, Aang deserved to feel devastated. He had suffered a loss greater than the world could comprehend. He should have been the angriest, bitter and driven for revenge more than anyone else - and yet here he was, still determined to choose forgiveness, to seek happiness from it all. Even so…

“The monks were very wise,” Katara mused after a pause. “But… I don’t think there’s any shame in feeling grief, either.” When her mother had died… sometimes Katara felt like the worst thing she’d done to herself was immediately stepping into her mother’s shoes. Maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much if she’d given herself more time to breathe. To mourn. To feel.

Aang’s gaze hardened. “I’m the Avatar,” he repeated. “My duty is first and foremost to the world. I’m not letting anyone else down.”

And if Katara’s heart shattered, she ignored it.

What could she say? How could she possibly remind him that he didn’t have to bear that burden alone? That she and Sokka were his family now? How could she help lift a century-old weight from his shoulders, a weight equivalent to tens of thousands of lives?

How could she comfort her new friend?

“I want you to make me a promise, Avatar Aang,” Katara whispered. This time, when she placed her hand on top of his, he didn’t pull away. “When this is all over, when the war is won… Promise me that you’ll grieve.” He needed to let himself feel - grief, anger, pain, relief. Whatever emotions he needed to process, she wanted to be certain that he wouldn’t bottle them up for the rest of his life.

It was undoubtedly advice she needed to take for herself, too.

Aang hesitated, then gave her a small smile. “Okay. I promise.”

Katara breathed a quiet sigh of relief. “Good.” She let go of his hand. “Now, I think we both need to get some rest. We have a long day of travelling ahead of us tomorrow.”

Aang laughed, and spirits if Katara wasn’t relieved to hear that sound. “Yeah. You’re right.” He snuggled back up against Appa, but not before giving her another grateful smile. “Thank you, Katara.”

She could do nothing but return his smile with one of her own. “You’re welcome, Aang.”

And while he drifted off into a more peaceful slumber than before, Katara remained awake, still energized by the bright glow of the moon. Perhaps when Aang mastered waterbending he’d be able to join her.

Spirits, it wasn’t fair! It wasn’t fair that Aang had been given no time to grieve. It wasn’t fair that his mourning was ancient history for everyone else. It wasn’t fair that no one else could ever come close to understanding his loss, because spirits knew all she wanted to do was help ease his pain.

Aang was so, so strong. And she desperately wished he didn’t have to be.

They were just kids. All of them. Even Sokka could hardly be considered an adult. No, it wasn’t fair, it never had been and never would be, but… It was reality.

The word left a bitter taste in her mouth. 

At the same time… Katara believed Aang could save the world. It was a conviction stronger than anything she’d ever felt before, and she was determined to do everything in her power to make sure he was given the chance. As long as Aang was there… The future looked bright - didn’t it?

~*~

continue reading on AO3 for bumi’s, sokka’s, toph’s, zuko’s, suki’s, and katara’s (again!) povs :D this bitch is 14k and i didn’t want to kill anyone’s dash lmao hence why i’ve only put katara’s first pov here.