#none of the seasons that come after will have any bearing on my fic but it was already an au from chapter one where viren is already king

[kaizokuseb]

i reread my biggest posted fanfic last night and then went and found the chapters i was working on before i quit years ago. it's weird because i have basically an entire finished chapter and another almost finished, but i was never quite happy with them, so they're just sitting there. i don't have any desire to write more, but part of me wants to post it because i think i would like that if i was subscribed to a fic i really liked? i also reread the comments and some of them were so enthusiastic, i imagine they would like more even though it isn't finished.

idk. i did really enjoy reading it again, so maybe i can work up the motivation to write at least another chapter. it would be a very different ending than i planned and would probably feel rushed, but maybe that's okay

[mollymauksboi]

୧ ‧₊˚🍂⋅ ɴᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ's ᴄᴀʟʟɪɴɢ

This fic is dedicated to my incredibly talented friend and fellow artist, @starrforge. I had so much fun writing Halsin for Adhara, I hope you enjoy it lovely! (If you ever want me to write anything else for you please feel free to send me requests! ♡)

Word count: 2,845

(NSFW, 18+ MINORS DNI.)

Warnings: Hickeys, fingering, pussy eating, p in v sex, creampie, mating season

For so long, all that had occupied Halsin’s mind was the shadow curse, even during his time in the grove being the archdruid, the weight of his past mistakes was a heavy burden that he carried with him for all those years. There was a point in time where the man almost wasn’t sure if he could fix things at all, and perhaps he wouldn’t have been able to if it was not for one person in particular. a stunning young elf that had rescued him from his fate in the warg pens after his capture. Halsin had thought that might have been his demise at one point, he could take on quite a lot in battle, but not a whole camp of goblins.

Adhara and her group of infected travelers had been his saving grace back then, aiding him without question, saving the tiefling refugees. That was the moment Halsin knew he could rely on Adhara and her companions, they needed to get to the heart of the cult, he needed to get to the shadow cursed lands- traveling together would be the best course of action. There had been many trials throughout the coming weeks, the Gith Creche had been a challenge in itself, Halsin had seen the way it had taken a toll on Adhara after. He had wanted to talk, to reassure the sorceress that she had done well, but the woman would have none of it.

She was frustrated that she was pushed around so much, dismissed for being so small, for being so kind. The two ended up having a bit of an argument over this, which had left Halsin feeling quite guilty. He knew that they had a bit of a rocky relationship then, but the druid time and time again proved his loyalty and kindness to Adhara and the others. When they had gotten into the shadow cursed lands, Halsin’s anxiety rose ten fold as did his guilt. He was seeing the destruction and carnage that had been caused and it shattered his heart into a million tiny pieces.

Adhara’s kindness was once again proven when she had selflessly helped him locate Thaniel, had been worried about him just as much as Halsin had been all while she was trying to get through safely to Moonrise Tower. Watching how the storm sorceress fought when it came time had been something Halsin did not think he would have the honor to witness and gods above she was good. So much had happened in just a few months, and every day he could feel himself growing closer to Adhara. Now that the shadow curse had finally been lifted he was free to explore life a little more.

It had been some time since he was able to have any sort of companionship, and although at first Adhara was not fond of him, with their nights spent by the fire talking, comforting one another and laughing together, the archdruid could feel that spark ignite into a flame within him. Perhaps a bit stronger than it should have, considering by now it was Spring- the one time Halsin was not a fan of. Spring meant it was mating season for the bears, and he could feel it even now, that familiar aching in his trousers. Halsin had always been rather good at ignoring his more primal urges, but sitting near the woman he fancied made it incredibly hard to resist her…

Sitting next to the sorceress while the others had gone off to do their own thing for the night left Halsin to his own devices. Now was as good a time as any to confess, he only hoped those feelings may be returned, though even if they were not, he would understand. “You know… i never truly realized how burdened I was, until I met you..” He began albeit a little hesitant at first. “The politics at the grove, the threat of the shadow curse.. I had nearly forgotten who I was.. But you lifted the fog.. Thank you, Adhara.” the man gave her a gentle smile, watching the way her bicoloured eyes lit up with both intrigue and that same compassion he had seen with others. “Of course, you are most welcome, Halsin”

Gods above and below, the way she said his name… He loved it, of course he always had, but right now, it was like the sweetest of melodies, the only thing that could sound better would be her cries of ecstasy when he… Halsin stopped himself, this was not the time to think those horny thoughts. He had to make sure she wanted that before he let his imagination run wild. “I have lived a very long life… Taking on many lovers, my heart does not stir lightly. But it does now, because of you.” Halsin could see the slight flicker of confusion behind her eyes as she asked what he had meant, and a soft chuckle left his lips. “It means I want more than to fight at your side or sit around the campfire with you.”

He paused, watching carefully for any sign of discomfort but when there was none, he knew it was safe to continue. “I want to lay with you under the stars and feel your skin against mine.. If you will have me.” There was another slight pause “If you do not feel the same, tell me so and I will let the matter rest. I do not wish to sour our friendship, but I have to know if it can be something more” Adhara’s cheeks flushed from the confession, her skin blossoming with an adorable pink tink “I.. I want you too. But…” Halsin watched as she paused, growing shy, he could sense her unease and he placed a comforting hand upon her shoulder “You are inexperienced, do not worry. I do not mind teaching you.”

“When the others are sleeping, we will slip away together, but I can assure you, we won’t get much sleep~” He winked, chuckling as he watched that pretty little blush darken before she stammered out a sheepish response and scurried away. Now that he had his confirmation, Halsin slinked off to his tent for a while and let his mind wander. What would Adhara taste like? What would she sound like? He knew her scent well, but the smell of her arousal would be another thing that would drive him wild, he just hoped he could contain himself tonight- the druid did not want to scare her away or harm her if he lost control while mating with her.

An hour or so passed before Halsin emerged from his tent to see nobody was up anymore, and found the storm sorceress standing nearby, causing him to smirk, the aching in his cock growing harder to ignore. Leading Adhara a decent distance away from their camp and into the forest, he hummed softly, leaning her back against a tree, towering over her tiny form. Gods he loved the height difference, he was sure he might break her if he wasn’t careful. “I promise I will be as gentle as I can be, but I must warn you… Sometimes if I let myself get too excited, I cannot control the wild shape… it gets harder around this time too, as it is the mating season for bears.”

Leaning down, Halsin’s breath mingled with Adhara's, her eyes already half closed, though he could still sense her nervousness. “May I kiss you before we begin, my heart..?” The elf nodded and halsin very gently pressed his lips to hers. They were soft and plump, everything he imagined they would be. He pressed his body against hers, pinning her to the tree, groaning against her lips as he began to grind his hardening cock against her, kissing the woman deeper. After a minute, Halsin pulled away and began to nip at her neck, listening to the gentle whimpers and whines that fell from her lips, her hands gripping his muscular arms tightly as he sucked a decent sized hickey into her skin- it would be hard to hide such a mark, but Halsin did not care. He liked marking what was his.

His fingers slipped under her tunic, silently asking permission to undress her, and after a moment, Adhara nodded. Slowly, the druid removed each article of clothing from her body until she was bare for him, and he kneeled before her, pressing affectionate kisses to her stomach and thighs, thumbs gently tracing over her beautiful scales. “You are so beautiful.. Just as nature intended..” Looking down, he could see the way she trembled with nervous anticipation, the scent of her arousal finally hitting him and for a moment his eyes flashed golden and a deep growl left his lips. He chuckled softly, gently parting her legs so that he could see her better.

“I’m going to devour you…” Halsin could not hold back any longer, his head dipped between her thighs, tongue dragging across her slit before teasingly flicking over her sensitive little bud; ears twitching and perking up when he heard the noise he had been wanting to pull from her. A soft, quiet moan. His cock jumped within their confines, but he remained patient. Halsin was going to make her cum before he even thought about getting himself off inside her. “This may hurt a little my darling, I am… More well endowed than any man I have seen before” Halsin gently guided Adhara to lay on her back within the soft grass, stripping for her- his erection free and standing at attention for her, the sight alone was enough to make her eyes go wide.

Halsin placed himself between her legs dipping his head between her thighs once again, two fingers circling her clit with a little pressure, not too much but enough to pleasure her, while his tongue delved inside her core, lapping up her sweet nectar, feeling the way her walls trembled and clenched around his wiggling appendage. “Let yourself go, cub. I want to watch you come undone for me…” Halsin hummed, removing his fingers from her, wetting one with his saliva before probing at her entrance, his one finger was already quite thick, he’d need to prepare her to be able to take him. “Relax, and if it hurts too much, I will stop.” Halsin began to very slowly insert his finger, leaning down to suck and lick at her clit to soothe any pain and turn it into pleasure- his eyes flashing between their usual brown and their golden hue as he struggled to remain in control.

“Such a good girl Adhara… Taking my finger so well… Hells…” Halsin growled, bearing his fangs a little, the instinct to push her down and bury himself to the hilt before railing her all night long was hard to ignore, the longer he ignored his primal urges the more feral he became. And gods, those whines and whimpers and moans she was giving him did not help either.. “There we go.. You did so well” Halsin praised her, finally having slipped his finger inside her completely. He gave her a few moments to adjust to the stretch before he began to slowly thrust it in and out of her, watching the way her eyes screwed shut, mouth hanging open so delightfully. “Fuck…” halsin panted, cock twitching and dripping precum into the grass.

The way Adhara’s face twisted with pain and pleasure had Halsin’s heart beating like a jackrabbit against his chest, she was so beautiful like this. “I’m going to insert a second finger now, little one.” The sorceress gave a slight nod and Halsin pulled his fingers out, lubricating them once again with his saliva and her slick. The druid slowly and carefully pushed his fingers into her core once again, alternating between nipping and sucking hickeys into her thighs and lapping at her clit to pleasure her. He could feel the way her core spasmed around his thick digits and his fingers twitched within her, itching to fuck them into her until she was screaming.

“You are so perfect Adhara…” Halsin curled his fingers inside her, fingertips brushing against that special spot within her that made Adhara’s back arch off the ground, her hands flew to his hair, taking a fistfull of it. That was his undoing. A moan left his lips, and he began to finger her faster now. He was gentle of course, but he was beginning to lose himself in the pleasure of watching Adhara lose her mind. The woman was writhing beneath him, moaning and panting with flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes. “That’s it my love… Lose yourself, cum for me..” The command was enough for Adhara to come undone, she cried out his name and came around his fingers.

Growling, Halsin fingered her through her orgasm and when she was thoroughly pleasured he pulled out his fingers, licking up her nectar. His eyes never left Adhara’s trembling form, gently kissing along her body to ease her, allowing the woman to catch her breath before he continued “Such a good girl Adhara… Are you ready for more?” He asked softly. “Y-yes…” Her sheepish voice came out quiet, but sure of herself. Halsin kissed along her neck, inhaling her gentle scent for a moment before lifting her smaller frame into his lap. “Then you shall take all of me~” The druid used his free hand to spread his precum along his shaft, shuddering a little as he positioned Adhara over him.

Groaning loudly, Halsin pushed himself carefully inside her core, biting into her shoulder a little as he felt her heat wrap tightly around him. Adhara’s cries filled the air around him as he took complete control, her legs over his arms with hers wrapped around his neck. “Keep your eyes on me, my heart. I will take good care of you” Adhara nodded and Halsin carefully pushed himself inside of her inch by inch, his eyes glowing that beautiful golden colour. “Good gods… You feel so good wrapped around me…” Halsin groaned, a growl leaving his lips. Adhara’s walls fluttered around his cock the further in he pushed, whimpering in delight at the sensations that coursed through her, alighting every nerve ending on fire until he was fully seated within her, the head of his cock so deep inside that it was kissing the entrance to her womb.

Halsin angled his hips a little, thrusting in and out of her. The lewd sound of skin against skin surrounded them, his pointed ears twitching in delight as Adhara’s moaning grew louder and louder. Before she even announced it, Halsin could feel the way her walls tightened and fluttered around him. She felt so damn good, he was losing his own ability to think straight, the only thing on his mind was the need to breed her. “H-Halsin… G-gonna cum soon-” The druid gave a wicked grin, thrusting faster and deeper “Good girl, taking my cock so well… I’m going to fill you so full of my seed you’ll have my cubs in no time~”

His teeth gently sank into her neck once again, sucking at her delicate skin as he thrust into her at an almost brutal pace, losing control- the need to mate with Adhara taking over. Halsin could feel his climax rapidly approaching, groaning against the woman's neck “Cum for me, Adhara…” He commanded, thrusting furiously into her, feeling her tense. His eyes never left the way her face contorted with pleasure, her mouth hanging open in an attractive little ‘o’ shape, her stunning voice calling out his name as she came hard around him.

That was his tipping point, Halsin’s hips stuttered, thrusts growing sloppy as his seed splashed against her womb. Halsin shuddered, keeping her sat in his lap and watching the way his cum slowly dripped from her; he had filled her well. “I love you, my heart” Halsin smiled softly, pulling the woman in for a gentle kiss, rubbing her hips with his thumbs to soothe her. The poor thing would likely be quite sore come morning, but he would take good care of her. Halsin pulled out of her after a few minutes, allowing her to rest against his chest, stroking her hair and tucking a few strands behind her ear. His arms gently wrapped around the woman as he kissed her head. “Rest now, my love. You deserve it”

Halsin had taken many lovers over the years, he had many trysts. But never in his long life had he ever felt so complete. Never in his life had he felt so loved by another being. His gaze shifted towards the twinkling stars above them as he felt Adhara’s breathing even out and she fell asleep comfortably against his chest. A small smile graced his lips, and he silently sent his thanks to Silvanus for blessing him with this woman.

This had truly been the most perfect evening, all because of one special woman that had stolen his heart.

[leupagus]

Please enjoy this section of "A Song of Darkness and Dawn" that's at least three fics into the future (somewhere around season 8?) that I've had in my drafts for literally a year

Happy anniversary?

"Father never talked about the Rebellion," said Lady Stark after a long moment. "At least not with me. Our septa taught us about it, a bit. How King Robert made his claim to the Iron Throne in part through his grandmother, Rhaelle Targaryen. She was the younger sister to King Jaehaerys and Queen Shaera."

"You believe Daenerys's claim to be stronger than mine?" He took a breath, wondering at himself even as he said, "It may well be."

Lady Stark gaped at him. "'It may well be'?" she echoed, incredulous. "Whatever happened to 'the Iron Throne is mine by right' and 'all those who deny my claim are my enemy' and 'I alone can unite the realm'?"

"I don't sound like that," he snapped, ignoring her badly-suppressed snort. "Robert won by right of conquest more than birth, and three dragons gives Daenerys Stormborn a better claim than any bloodline. But the more I think on it..." He sighed. "I suspect that there is no such thing as king — or queen — by right. It's simply a pretty phrase for those in power to pursue what they want, at the expense of their duty to their people." He glanced at her. "What?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, though her expression was odd. "I just never expected to hear such things from you."

"It's your fault, if it's anyone's."

"Really." This expression was more familiar: a glower. "I'm sure this will be interesting."

"You took Winterfell back, despite having no real claim other than the..." He cast about for the right word, "sentiment, I suppose, of the Northern lords."

It wasn't the right word, he soon discovered. "I'm a Stark," she replied hotly. "My family's held the North for thousands of years!"

"But you're not the heir to Winterfell," he pointed out. ". Daughters can inherit — but they usualy don't, not if there's a son living. And your father had three."

"None of whom want to be Warden of the North!" She looked ready to kick him. "And you yourself granted Winterfell to me—"

"And I meant it," he said, stepping back a judicious pace. "You've rebuilt the Keep and brought order back to the North, made it safe for your people. Now you're preparing them for the Great War, and I'd ask for no one better. You're doing your duty. But it was a duty you sought, and a duty that rightly belongs to someone else."

"It's a duty I'm suited to," she countered. "Just as you were suited better to be Lord of Dragonstone and Master of Ships than to be Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

Stannis jabbed a finger at her. "That was completely different!"

"Only because King Robert gave Storm's End to Renly outright," she said, raising a finger in turn. "You're the one who considered it a slight, even though Dragonstone was the holdfast given to the heir to the Iron Throne, which you were, until Joffrey was born. Not only that, you were the only man Robert could have trusted to rebuild his fleet. And," she added, pushing his hand down when he tried to interject, "You would have hated being Lord of the Stormlands."

She said it with such triumphant confidence that he was left gaping at her for a moment, before hurredly pulling his hand away from hers. "I admire your confidence, my lady," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "But bear in mind that I am Lord Paramount of the Stormlands."

"Yes, and if you were there, you'd hate it," she said blithely. "You'd have to deal with people, throughout the day and every day — and not just people who do as you tell them. You'd have to listen to the complaints of smallfolk about their taxed grains, hear out disputes between two holdings that have been fighting over the same half-acre for three generations; you'd have to listen all the wheedling lords and the irascable septons and blustering tradesmen. You'd have to offer comfort to the sickly who come to you for the healing touch of their lord, attend feast days and wave and smile at the crowds, accept the flower crowns the children weave for you at the tourneys. You can't just shout. You have to care, and be shown to care. You—" Suddenly she stopped and laughed. "I wish I had a mirror right now, to show you your face."

"Flower crowns?" he asked, wincing. Shireen would look well in them, at least.

"Good thing I didn't bend the knee, Your Grace," she said, "if the mere thought of daisies wrapped around your head makes you rethink the entire enterprise. What did you think being king meant?"

[buttercupjosh]

Underneath the Stars

(Gif credit to @jonasiegenthaler)

Word count: 3,075

Warnings: none

Genres: established relationship, fluff, self-insert

A/N: I’m back at it again by participating in @wyattjohnston’s Summer Fic Exchange and this is my story for @ilyasorokinn, written with the very handsome Nico Hischier. I hope that you like it. I’m sorry in advance that it kinda goes by fast and about the timeline format but I just wanted to try something different. I also decided to challenge myself a bit more by writing adding some dialogue so please bear with me if the conversations aren’t that great. This is an established relationship story (so there’s no meet cute this time, which was a challenge for me to not write one). I’ve also never been to New York City before so I used Google to help me and I apologize for any inaccuracies. Title and some of the story elements comes from Underneath the Stars by Mariah Carey (which I highly recommend listening to). There are also some elements of the journey across NYC events that take place in “The Sun Is Also A Star” by Nicola Yoon (book). As always, I’m open to any and all feedback, comments or questions; just put them in my inbox or dm me. Thank you so much in advance for reading, I appreciate it😌 (P.S. I have other stories (linked here) that I have written for other players as well if you want to check it out)

Optional/recommended listening: Underneath the Stars by Mariah Carey

“Who needs a crowd when you’re happy at a party of two?” -Late To The Party by Kacey Musgraves

7:05-10:00 pm

Another Devils season had yet again come to an end without making the Stanley Cup Final. It was a bit disappointing but the nice thing about being eliminated early is that you had some additional time to spend with your boyfriend, Nico. You were excited to see him but you knew your time together would be bittersweet. You were granted a summer sports medicine fellowship opportunity in California but that meant that you would spend the whole summer away from Nico and you would not be able to visit him in Switzerland either. Nico was happy for you, achieving something that you worked really hard for, but he was also a bit sad that you wouldn’t be able to spend the off-season together and be in the same place without worrying about the hockey season for a few months. You and Nico had been separated at times before, while he was away on road trips, but this felt much different. 

For your last outing together before going your separate ways, you agreed to go into the city to watch the Mets play against your favorite team, the San Francisco Giants. Yes, although you were dating the captain of a hockey team, your favorite sport was baseball. Despite being surrounded by others, the PATH train ride into the city felt like you were the only 2 people on board. During your trip, you noticed that the light from the waning sunset bathed Nico in the warmest glow. Before you knew it, you were in New York City and continued the rest of your journey. After taking the main NYC subway, you arrived to your destination at Citi Field and had a lot of fun at the game. It was so nice to enjoy your favorite pastime with Nico and it didn’t hurt that he looked good in a baseball jersey as well. Every time you watched a game, Nico always asked you questions about what was going on since baseball isn’t as popular in Switzerland. It was fun to be on the other side as the one explaining the game to him, just like he would explain things to you when you watched his beloved soccer together or had questions about hockey. One nice memory that was made during the game was singing along to “Take Me Out to The Ball Game”; the song was such a classic and Nico even joked that there should be a hockey version of the song, which made you giggle. Your time together at the game flew by and to your delight, the Giants won.

————————————————————

10:10 pm-10:15 pm

After the game, you planned on taking the subway together back over to New Jersey but Nico could sense that something was off on your walk to the station.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You look upset.” Nico asked with a hint of concern in his voice.

“I’m sorry, Nico, I just don’t want this night to end. I’ve been having such a good time with you and I know once you leave, I won’t see you for a while,”  you replied, trying to hold back tears. 

Nico felt the same way, he knew he would go back to Jersey, go to sleep, and have to wait months before seeing you again.

“It doesn’t have to end, my love. What else should we do then?”, Nico said with a smile on his face.

————————————————————

10:40 pm-12:56 am

After your conversation, you decided to go to a late night showing of Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse at Alamo Drafthouse. Before the movie, you and Nico stopped at a nearby bodega to get some snacks to sneak in. Nico didn’t care if the snacks were a bit unhealthy because it was the off-season and although it was wrong to sneak in outside food, it’s not like the theater employees were going to kick you out anyways. There weren't many people around for the showing so it was almost like the movie was shown just for the two of you. During the movie, Nico subconsciously put his arm around you and tried to pull you in closer; he would miss movie nights with you. It was a rare opportunity for him to just sit down and relax with his lover. The movie itself was super amazing and after the movie, you and Nico had a lengthy conversation about the events of the film.

————————————————————

1:00 am-2:00 am

Sleep may be an athlete’s secret weapon but even at 1 am, Nico still had energy. You ended up having a game night at Brooklyn Bowl since it was the only fun place that wasn’t a bar that was still open. Of course, being an athlete meant there was a competitive side to Nico so he was trying his best to win the game. You, on the other hand, were just having fun and didn’t care as much about winning. Nico’s goal was to get a strike but he kept knocking most of the pins down except for 1 or 2 so when you got a strike in your casual play, Nico was ecstatic. He lifted you up in the air and spun you around, making you laugh. All of the other patrons must have thought he was drunk but no, he was just sober and so happy for you. You were slightly embarrassed by your boyfriend’s excited gesture but you didn’t care because yet again, he made you laugh. Hearing you laugh was a sound that Nico would miss while you were apart from each other. Despite striking out, you didn’t win the game and Nico never achieved getting a strike but he had more points so winning allowed him to gain even more energy for the rest of the evening.

————————————————————

2:30-3:00 am

Since Brooklyn Bowl closes at 2 am, there was still time in the night and exhaustion hadn’t hit either of you yet so you and Nico headed back towards Manhattan. Nico decided that the best way to expel some of his extra energy was singing and bopping around. Nico’s actions inspired an activity. You decided to go for a late-night karaoke session at a karaoke bar called Karaoke Boho Orchard in the Lower East Side. Thankfully, this karaoke bar had private rooms so you wouldn’t have to worry about singing on stage in front of strangers. 

Nico wanted to sing first and he dedicated “Lover” by Taylor Swift to you; it was a song that you loved dearly. Although Nico’s vocals were a bit off-key, you were so in awe observing him sing and you began to quietly tear up a little bit. While you were wrapped up in your bubble of awe, you didn’t quite realize that Nico had finished singing; you didn’t even think about what song you were going to sing. After scrolling through the song catalog, you serenaded Nico to “Always Be My Baby” by Mariah Carey. The song reminded the two of you that no matter what separates you, you’ll always be a part of each other. Nico’s heart began to fill with so much amusement and joy with your musical tribute. Listening to you enunciate the words of the song sounded almost like poetry. If Nico wasn’t weak in the knees with loving you from before, watching you sing to him made him hit the ground. After you completed the song, Nico suggested singing a duet together and you settled on “Islands In The Stream” by Dolly Parton and Kenny Rogers. Although it was cheesy, singing love songs to your lover and with your lover reminded you both that the love you shared was so strong. For the rest of your time, you and Nico continued to sing different songs. It was so much fun singing and dancing together; it was a side that rarely came out but whenever it did, you both always had a good time.

————————————————————

3:00-3:45 am

The karaoke room was paid by the hour but Nico was a bit hungry so the two of you made a quick stop at Katz’s Deli since it was the only food place open nearby. The restaurant was surprisingly not filled with many people so you and Nico sat close to the walls; observing the wall photos, trying to figure out who the famous faces were.

“Do you think I should tell them who I am so I can get my picture on the wall?” Nico jokingly asked while you waited for your food to come out.

“Nico, you do know this is Rangers territory? They would rather burn your picture than put it up” you whisper replied.

“Y/n, you do know that the diners in Jersey are better right?” Nico said in a not-so-serious louder tone.

“Nico, how dare you insult an iconic New York institution?” you gritted through your teeth.

You playfully swatted at him and thankfully, your waiter arrived with your order of potato latkes and matzo ball soup. Over the meal, you and Nico chatted and people-watched those who came in and out of the restaurant. 

————————————————————

3:45-5:00 am

As the night dragged into the almost sunrise hours, you started getting tired. Nico suggested that you rent a hotel room and rest; he knew that you would probably fall asleep on the train ride back to New Jersey and preferred for you to rest somewhere somewhat comfortable. The closest hotel was the Hotel Indigo Lower East Side, which was right next door to Katz’s Deli. You pleaded with Nico that he didn’t have to pay for a last-minute hotel room but he insisted. The front desk person who checked in was a Devils fan so they gave you a discount and a room with a spectacular view of the city. Nico embraced you as you lay in bed and you tried your best to fall asleep but you couldn’t quite stop staring at the sea of lights from the City That Never Sleeps right outside of your window. You wanted to continue to talk to Nico but as soon as his head hit the pillow, he was knocked out. Over time, your eyes fell heavy and you went to sleep.

————————————————————

5:00-6:00 am

You couldn’t quite stay asleep, your brain raced with thoughts about how your time with Nico was winding down, even though, he was right next to you. You watched Nico as he slept, matching your breaths with the rise and fall of his chest, wondering what he was dreaming about; he looked so peaceful. You tried to quietly slip out of Nico’s arms but he kept pulling you back to hold you close to him. Nico’s eyes fluttered open once he felt the flat space of the mattress after you successfully broke free to use the bathroom. When you emerged from the bathroom, Nico’s big brown eyes greeted yours and he was sitting up in bed. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to switch rooms?”, Nico asked with the same hint of concern from earlier in the evening.

“No, I’m good. I just can’t sleep”, you replied back, “ but you can go back to bed.”

“Do you want to leave and go back home then?”, Nico suggested.

Hearing him say that made the reality of your time ending together hit you in a painful spot but it was for the best; you couldn’t stop putting off the inevitable separation that was going to happen soon. You agreed to go home. On the elevator ride downstairs, Nico expressed that he would want to come back to see more parts of the city and for a staycation with you and you suggested that since the hotel had a rooftop bar, it would be a good spot to host a team party.

Instead of taking a train to get there, you decided to walk to the PATH train station that would return you back to New Jersey. On your walk, you and Nico passed through sections of the New York University campus and even made a quick stop at Washington Square Park. Although the park wasn’t as large as Central Park, it was nice to stroll around together and there was a warm gentle breeze that wrapped around you. There weren’t many people around, just a few joggers and people walking their dogs. At one point during your walk, Nico wanted to take a quick break to sit on the grass. Sitting on the grass eventually turned into laying on the grass. There were still a few stars out from the previous evening but not long before, you watched the sun begin to spill the warm colors into the sky; the rising sunlight dressed you in a warm glow. It was hitting Nico bad that this would be the last time that he would hold you for the rest of the summer and he planted a kiss on your head. You felt a tear hit your scalp and you looked up to see Nico crying a little. You had never seen Nico cry like this before but you reassured him that everything was going to be okay. After the sun fully rose, you and Nico left the park to go home. As you walked under the Washington Square Arch, you squeezed Nico’s hand three times as a quiet gesture to remind him that you loved him.

————————————————————

6:30-7:30 am

The train ride back to Jersey had much fewer people than the train ride over. You and Nico sat in the back, wrapped in your own personal bubble. Nico kept trying to stay awake to maximize the time you had left together but he ended up taking a nap on your shoulder. You still couldn’t quite fall fully asleep yet. Although he didn’t have to do so, you were grateful that Nico sacrificed his time and sleep schedule to spend all night with you. Nico felt similarly; there was no one else in this world that he would be willing to spend sunset to sunrise in NYC, running on little sleep than with you. While he was asleep, you slipped a custom handmade letter bead bracelet onto Nico’s wrist. It was neutral colored and it had your initials together on it so everytime Nico looked down at his wrist, he would be reminded of you. You and Nico hadn’t planned on exchanging gifts before you left but you decided to make it for for him once you realized that you wouldn’t be spending the summer together.

After arriving in Jersey, you and Nico went to a local diner to share one last meal together. As you waited for your order, you were calmly soaking in your final moments with Nico but he was a bit antsy in his seat. Something was on his mind and he couldn’t quite keep in any longer.

“Can we take it to go? I want one final moment with just us.” Nico declared.

————————————————————

8:00 am

Over your last breakfast at your apartment, you and Nico reflected on last night’s events and the memories you made together. The time you had together sailed by so fast and you both had such a great time; it was both beautiful and bittersweet at the same time. You were obviously surrounded by people everywhere you went that evening but at times, it felt like the city felt like it was your own secret, special place.

Nico’s flight to Switzerland wasn’t scheduled to leave until the following afternoon so he still had time to get some sleep and finalize any final things before leaving the country until returning for training camp in September. After breakfast was done, you and Nico migrated toward the couch to watch the news; watching the morning news together was a rare thing that you got to do together whenever Nico had a weekend off day. You tried your best to stay awake but a wave of tiredness crashed hard into you and you ended up drifting off to sleep in Nico’s arms on the couch. As you lay deep asleep in Nico’s arms, he reluctantly said goodbye. He really didn’t want to leave you behind and wish that he could just move your summer fellowship to Switzerland so that you could be enjoying a Swiss summer with him. He would spend part of his time, missing you being so far away and trying to perfect a potato latke recipe to match the one you had enjoyed at Katz’s Deli. Being this close to you for one last time, Nico could feel himself fading into you and feel the parts of you that faded into him with each minute that passed and he had hoped that these parts would stick around long after he left (which they did).

————————————————————

Time unknown

You woke up hours later on the couch, feeling a bit disoriented. The TV was turned off and you were covered in a blanket. It was dark outside and Nico was gone but he left a gift behind for you. Before going to shower, you noticed that there was a stack of Polaroids and one of Nico’s bracelets on the coffee table. The stack contained all of the pictures from the evening before that Nico took on his phone: the photo of you and Nico at a baseball game that was taken by a fan, a photo of you singing karaoke, an image of Nico taking a selfie while you were looking off-guard at the Katz’ Deli picture wall, a photo of your side profile looking out the window on the train ride home and a Nico selfie on the grass at Washington Square Park to round out the stack. On the back of each Polaroid, Nico wrote “I love you so much” and other sweet notes. You were slightly confused as to how Nico did this but you realized that he had secretly stashed his mobile Polaroid printer at your apartment. It was such a kind gesture that Nico put these photos together for you. Last night felt like a dream but the love captured in those photographs were the most significant memories you would hold onto. Whether you were hundreds of miles or a few inches apart, the love you both shared was always there, lingering around in your hearts. It sucked that you would be separated for a brief moment in time but each day apart was one day closer to being together again.

[snorky]

If I Drift Endlessly Among The Stars, Would You Join Me?

Hey y’all! I hope you are all doing well and happy. I wrote this Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen piece because honestly? He needs love <3 Also I have no idea what his nickname is besides Upi and UPL (not even sure if he goes by just Ukko), so my apologies. Sweet and fluffy, I hope you all enjoy this fic! Take care of yourself!

Pairing: Ukko-Pekka Luukkonen x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: None

—

—

Tossing and turning in the sheets, her limbs tangling with it, sleep seemed to be so far away, despite it being right there. It felt like she’d been doing this for hours, exhaustion rampant in her body as she tried to rest. Looking at the alarm clock on her nightstand, the bright red numbers read 1:00 AM almost mockingly.

Ukko slept peacefully beside her, his body moving rhythmically as he took his deep breaths as he slept, his face resting angelically as the moon shone on it. He finished a game a few hours before, making plenty of saves that led to a win for the Sabres and the arena to buzz with excitement.

She smiled as she thought back to when he came home after the game, pulling her into a squeezing hug that seemed like he never wanted to let go. Upi’s laughter and joy were beyond contagious, brightening her day no matter what it seemed.

But even after games that led to a loss, he smiled nevertheless, his stress melting away as he entered her outstretched arms. Those days were spent with cuddles, comforting him and reassuring him as he rested his head in her lap, her fingers playing with his hair.

Slowly, she got out of bed, making sure not to make too much noise that would wake him up since he had early morning practice the following morning. The floor was cold beneath her feet, evident that the seasons were changing rapidly.

It seemed as if autumn faded into winter as quickly as the leaves started to turn orange and fall, especially in Buffalo. The snowfall was pretty, and the liveliness of the seasons and holidays was always something to look forward to. It was an endless season of fluttering snow and glimmering lights.

The hardwood floor slightly creaked beneath her as she walked, reminding her of how late in the night it was. It was quiet, aside from the soft snores coming from her shared bedroom from Upi, and the quiet hum of the refrigerator. She grabbed a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water as she took a sip.

As she looked around, she noticed how cozy and inviting the kitchen was, despite how dimly lit it was. Hand towels hung on the oven handle with intricate embroidery on them, candles that sat in the middle of the kitchen counter, and a vase filled with fresh flowers from Upi, it all brought the home to life.

“What are you doing awake, sweetheart?”

His deep, groggy voice startled her, causing her to jump slightly. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” she said, rubbing her eyes. 

He took a step closer to her, warmth radiating off of his body, and pulled her closer to his large, strong frame, wrapping both of his arms around her and gently swaying her from side to side. His hands were placed on her arms, thumbs tracing small circles on her arm.

Moving his head closer to her shoulder, he kissed it gently. “I rolled over to the side to hold you and you weren’t there, baby,” he murmured.

“I’m sorry, honey. I couldn’t sleep well.” She placed a gentle hand on his lower back, comforting him. “You should get some rest, you have morning practice tomorrow,”

He shook his head in objection, wanting to stay with her for longer. “No.” He pouted slightly. “It’s either you come to bed with me, or we’re both staying up,”

Ukko was like a human teddy bear, always wanting cuddles and hugs, a request that was never denied to him by her, and he was soft-spoken at all times. Sweet, kind, cute, and loving, he was perfect to her, and she wouldn’t want it any other way.

They both stood there in the kitchen, gently swaying from side to side as they held each other close. Feeling him there, his presence brought a sense of calm. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, mumbling some sort of affectionate phrase that she couldn’t quite hear, but her heart knew of.

“Upi?”

Humming, he acknowledged her question, the noise deep in his chest.

“Do you want to go back to bed?” She let out a yawn, sleepiness evident in her slow movements. “I’m kinda tired.”

He let out a small chuckle, smiling at her. “Oh, so now you’re tired?”

“I just couldn’t fall asleep earlier I promise—”

His lips were pressed against hers softly, his fingers underneath her chin, tilting it upwards as he leaned down. “Just come to bed, okay?” He lifted her in his strong arms, picking her up with ease and gentleness.

As he carried her to their shared bedroom, he smiled at her sweetly, his expression gentle and fuzzy. 

His smile was the most lovable aspect of him in her eyes, and she loved every bit of him unconditionally. He rarely smiled with his teeth, but when he did, she wished that he would do it so much more often.

“What are you looking at me for?” His expression was curious, wanting and wondering.

She smiled back at him, warm and radiant like a beaming sun as a soft giggle slipped past her lips. “You’re pretty,” she said sweetly.

A blush crept onto his face, visible by the moonlight shining through the windows of their bedroom. “You’re more pretty, darling.” He laid her down on the bed, his touch on her face gentle and delicate as he placed another kiss on her cheek.

He climbed into bed and lay beside her, wrapping his arms around her waist. As she remained close to him, her head resting on his chest, the sound of his heartbeat and breathing made her more relaxed, easing an unknown stress that she hadn’t noticed.

Slowly, they both drifted off to sleep, limbs tangled with each other and the bedsheets, their breaths in sync, calm and steady. Before she fell asleep, she glanced up at his face and admired it. His lips parted, and hair beautifully messy as the moonlight fell on him.

[doubleappled]

About the blogger meme

Thank you to @bioloyg for the tag and the fic callout! Team Pete forever and for always!

Star Sign: Libra, but it never resonates the way my enneagram 2 does

Favorite Holidays: Groundhog Day. I love those little dudes (although I wish we could leave them in peace so maybe let’s just celebrate their existence and not force our way into their homes)

Last Meal: Enchiladas for dinner

Last Music Listened To: Waxahatche’s Great Thunder

Last Movie Watched: hmmmm in the theater? I think Bottoms, which I adored

Last TV Show Watched: Shameless. I’m in the beginning of season 9 and it is messing me up in 5000 different ways. The acting is great (sometimes) and the writing is awful (mostly) and the storylines are ridiculous (always) and it’s at least 5 or 6 seasons too long. But every once in a while it really makes you think, and it’s completely gotten under my skin. And I will finish it if it’s the last thing I ever do. And it might be, because wow.

Last Book/Fic Finished: I just finished Justin Torres’ Blackouts and I LOVED it. And the most recent chapter of @glitterslag’s It's Been You and Me Since Before I Was Me — is a witchy creepy Appalachian Gothic MASTERPIECE that I adore. Oh and Blissymbolics’ Colorless Richie Jerimovich, also a masterpiece even though it is sydrichie and that is giving me a teeny tiny identity crisis okay moving on

Last Book/Fic Abandoned: I am thisclose to giving up on Lessons In Chemistry. I do not get this book at all.

Currently Reading: nobody ever got my soul right like she could by seh28

Last Thing Researched for Art/Writing/Hyperfixation: Quite a bit about what happens to children of people wirh narcissistic personality disorder (hi Donna, yes I am armchair psychologizing and pathologizing a fictional character) for the fic I’m currently writing. I’m not a really intense researcher, but I’ve read all about elevator mechanics and ancient marriage rites and British parking tickets and EMP’s 2019 spring menu and how to cook uni and where pastina comes from, all for fics. I love that aspect of writing.

Favorite Online Fandom Memory: It’s embarrassing, but it’s probably the first time that one of my favorite fic authors commented on one of my own fics, ca. 2018. I was on the subway, and I dropped my phone on the disgusting wet floor when I saw the incredibly lovely comment they’d posted.

FaNvorite Old Fandom You Wish Would Drag You Back In/Have A Resurgence: I really only have two old fandoms, but I do miss HP quite a bit. It’s such a robust space, with really nice people, and so many different fests and prompts and challenges. I still read a bit when my favorite authors post, and would like to write for it again someday. (Also, if you’re the anon who’s messaged me multiple times to tell me that my new fics aren’t as good or creative as my HP, and that I “used to be a good writer” — please stop. That’s not the way to convince me to go back, and it makes me feel bad)

Favorite Thing You Enjoy That Never Had an Active or Big "Fandom" but You Wish It Did: Truly I’ve never experienced a hyperfixation like I have with The Bear. I wish fanfic had existed in its current state when I was younger, or that I’d been cool enough to figure out the concept and write it on my own. I would have been VERY ACTIVE in a Dead Poets Society fandom if it had existed when I was obsessed with that movie, a decade after it came out, when I watched it practically every day for a year 🤪

Tempting Project You're Trying to Rein In/Don't Have Time For: I just have 15 different Bear WIPs, none of which have any plot, wooo!

Anyway this was all very fun to think about. Tagging @amieraisposting @kdbleu @justabovewater20 @yannaryartside @glitterslag — only if this is your jam — and anyone else who wants to join in.

[wistfulcynic]

bear with me because i'm working through my thoughts on this as i type.

basically the big problem as i see it is this: We (collective multi-fandom "we") have grown so used to enemies-to-lovers as a trope and as a concept that some of us have become convinced that every instance of conflict between characters is driven by attraction and any time they express dislike for each other it's sexual tension. How often do we see JUST KISS under a gif of people actively trying to kill each other? And yes, sometimes that sexual tension is real and sometimes it becomes a functional relationship but also sometimes it's just dislike. The problem comes when people can't or won't see the difference.

in fanfic it doesn't matter, because if you're clicking on a steddyhands fic you've already committed to the premise. You've accepted that Ed and Stede for whatever reason have decided to bring Izzy into their relationship and how they got to that point isn't something you care that much about. Fine, whatever hoists your jolly roger. But in the show as the other reblog commenters have said, there's not nearly enough time to even introduce that much less develop it into something believable. Enemies-to-lovers takes many seasons usually, if it's done right. People need time to change and to resolve their differences. OFMD did not have that, even if it wanted to go there.

but. And i think this is key. OFMD never wanted to go there. Not just because Ed and Stede are The couple in the romcom but because OFMD is simply not about that kind of sexual or romantic conflict. It's not about toxic hatefuck relationships, very much the opposite. Ed and Stede's conflict derives from their trauma and their inability to communicate effectively, never from their connection or devotion to each other. They swapped clothes five minutes after meeting! They play silly games together! They are soulmates, pure and simple. Their arc was never about resolving fundamental conflicts with each other, it was about how to meet in the middle of their different life paths and find a new path that suited them both. Izzy could not and never would be able to be a part of that.

it's worth noting also that none of the OFMD relationships are about toxic conflict. Jim and Olu add two new people into their relationship with absolutely zero angst about it. Lucius and Pete talk it through then fuck it out and have the world's sweetest wedding. Buttons becomes a bird to better love the sea--you know, it's all about loving your partner(s) enough to grow and adapt with them. It's never conflict just for conflict's sake or because some people think that if there's no conflict it's not sexy. If conflict happens it's emotionally resonant and means something, serves some purpose to the story arc.

anyway, i know i got off track but tl;dr enemies-to-lovers may be exciting but it doesn't happen nearly as often as people think and there are many, many ways to tell sexy love stories without it. To avoid self-baiting and then getting your knickers in a knot when your imaginary ship does not become canon, it'd be useful to learn how to distinguish genuine attraction-driven conflict and sexual tension from the JUST KISS gif fandom nonsense that too often seems to carry people away.

RE: #222 and #220 This is pure speculation, but was wondering the same thing.

The obsession with steddyhands/edizzy/stizzy shipping could stem from any number of things (and we know when some people ship, they ship hard), but probably why some were so convinced of its validity or potential might be because this is a show that's been advertised/perceived as 'you never know what's going to happen next' and where 'so many fanfic-related dreams can come true' especially when related to queer fanfiction. Combined with the show's flexible disregard for the rules of reality (bird transformations, super fast healing, logic-defying dinghies, etc.), this could foster the perception that literally 'anything is possible.'

Also, OFMD has consistently reassured the queer community that they're not bullshitting when it comes to featuring, highlighting, and supporting queer relationships, which apparently could translate to 'any ship you could dream of might actually happen here.' So from that point of view, the OFMD crew basically said ‘yes, let's do it!’ to so many beloved fanfic tropes and queer relationships except these particular OTPs. There's also the possibility of outright indignation - 'Well, you gave Fan Groups A and B their fantasies, why not me/us?' Plus the manifestation of Izzy's antagonist-to-ally arc was probably equated to meaning 'only positive things are going to happen to him from here on out,' so naturally this was going to progress into a romantic/sexual relationship with one or both of the romantic leads (whether out of genuine belief that it made sense and would be good for him or just because it would be a hot and sexy outcome). So this - as well as an article promoting and practically promising an Izzy/Ed/Stede love triangle - might be another reason why some of the shippers went beyond being just disappointed (which isn't too unreasonable) and plummeted into a sense of hurt and devastation. Maybe they felt somewhat 'betrayed' in a bait-and-switch kinda way by the revelation that pairing Izzy with Ed/Stede/both more than likely wasn't the even on the table.

Being upset over Izzy's death however, that's another matter...

#226.

related posts: #222, #220

[sorryjustafangirl]

babe for the weekend

a/n: this is a little different than what i usually write, in terms of boy and structure but i am really really proud of how it turned out, so i hope y'all like it too! the title comes from Taylor Swift's ''tis the damn season" and it quite inspired by it. this is for @broadstbroskis, one of the very first writers i starting following on hockeyblr. it was an absolute honour to write for her in @antoinerousselssel's winter fic exchange and i really really hope she enjoys it (and all its Swiftie references <3)

pairing: morgan rielly x fem!reader

word count: 8.8k+

warnings: a few swears, holiday setting (although not crazy prominent), childhood idiot friends to lovers?

disclaimer: this is a piece of fiction and this beautiful gif is not mine! p.s. i know he got engaged recently (to the figure skating love of my life Tessa Virtue; congrats to them!) but i was too deep in the fic to switch it when i heard the news. hope you still love it!

Morgan had been getting you out of trouble since the day you two could walk. You’d knock over a vase, and he’d find a way to blame the dog. You’d convince him to mattress surf down the stairs, and he put it back while you stalled your mom so she wouldn’t know. He would tell his mom that she “saw you walk up the stairs after dinner like hours ago” when you only snuck in his window four minutes before. 

That didn’t end when he left to play junior hockey or when he got drafted and you moved across the country for school. Despite being in the same city, you relied less on him to bail you out as you got older, but every once in a while, his number was on speed dial to decipher if a guy was phishing you or for a 2am pickup from the club. 

Granted, you’d saved him just as many times. You’d posed as his girlfriend to save him from puck bunnies and more than once told his mom it was you he was out with, instead of the girlfriend he wasn’t supposed to have. Every other week, he’d call with a question he was too embarrassed to ask his own mom (“is $10 too much for a carton of orange juice?”). 

You just never thought he’d be bailing you out like this. 

As the youngest of four kids (and the last single one), your parents were overbearing about your love life to say the least. But in the holiday season? It dialed up to 11. 

“Are you sure you’re alright though? We don’t want you to be feeling lonely.” Your mom brought up at the end of your weekly Zoom family call, complete with all your siblings and grandma. 

“For the last time, I am not lonely. I have great friends, I have a good job at an ad agency, and my credit card is paid off. I’m doing great!”

“But it’s a big city, darling. You’ve been out of school for years and you still haven’t told us about any guy. Or-or girl, if you’re into that,” she tried to reason.

“Mom, she isn’t lonely because she’s getting some!” Ben, your youngest brother, chimed in, making you cringe. 

“Grow up, dork,” Julie, your eldest sister, said at the same time your older brother, James, said “Nice one!”

“Kids, you’re making Grams blush, can you knock it off?” Your dad chimed in. Ben’s face flushed but that didn’t stop James from poking the bear. 

“Just think Mom, there’s less people to feed at Christmas!” 

“That’s what you take out of this? Your sister could be at risk for depression.”

“I don’t have depression!”

“You always talk to me with an iced coffee, I do get a little concerned.” “Rude!” “Hey! Ruby drinks iced coffees too and she’s not depressed.” “She’s in a relationship with you, I’d rethink that.” “You aren’t depressed when you’re in happy relationships, that’s what I know.” “Grams, that is not true.” “That’s what Cynthia at book club said!” “None of that changes the fact that your sister hasn’t had a boyfriend in a long time and I’m worried about her!” “She’s not that old Brenda.” “She’s not seventeen anymore Thomas, our daughter is getting older and if she wants kids–” “Kids? Mom, she doesn’t even have a boyfriend.��� “That’s my point!” “Who said she wants kids?” “Julie, you’re a mother, you should know every woman wants kids!” “Grams, that isn’t true.” 

All of their overlapping voices seemed to get louder, rattling around in your brain, and you couldn’t take it anymore. 

“I have a boyfriend!” You blurted and the screen silenced. You relished the small moment of quiet before the sound exploded again. 

“What?” “Yes!” “Who is he?” “Is he coming home with you?” “What’s his name?”

“Woah, woah. One at a time please,” you nervously laughed. 

“What’s his name?” The smiles on your mom and Grams faces were so wide it was starting to freak you out and your brain froze. What’s a boy’s name what’s a boy name what’s a boy’s name??

“Morgan.” 

Your brain blurted out the name before you realized its implications. 

“Morgan?” Your mom’s smile widened. “Like our Morgan? The Rielly’s boy?” 

Shit, shit, shit. “You’ll have to wait to find out.”

“If they couldn’t get together in high school, no way it would happen now. I say it’s different.” “There’s lots of Morgans in Toronto! It’s a big city.” 

“Yeah, I call bullshit on this whole boyfriend thing,” your older sister Julie chimed in.

You felt blood starting to drain from your face “What?” 

“Oh c’mon! All we have is a name? You don’t want to share his job or what he looks like? You can’t even tell us if he’s coming back with you. You’re just faking it.”

“His work is busy, we haven’t decided if he’s coming back yet!”

“Two weeks before the holidays?” She raised an eyebrow and you pursed your lips. 

“Fine. I was going to surprise you instead, but yes he’s coming back with me. And he has blond hair. Happy?” Julie only shrugged but you could hear your grandmother rejoice in the background of the call. “Look, I have to go but I’ll see you all in two weeks.”

“With Morgan! Oh, I’m so excited to meet him!”

“Yes. With Morgan.” You ended the phone call and flopped into your couch pillows before letting out a scream. 

Where were you going to find a Morgan with blond hair to act as a fake-boyfriend to meet your family across the country?  

-----

“Just call your Morgan.” Your best friend, Ivy, said as the two of you sat in Fran’s, the best diner for burger and fries past Jarvis street, for your regular lunch chat.  

“No, it’d be weird! He’s known my family for a long time and we’re friends.” You shook your head while munching on your fries. 

“Those are exactly the reasons you should take him! Plus, you said his name. I don’t get why you’re making it into this big deal about taking him.” 

“Because it is!”

“But why? It’s not like you’re in love with him,” She said, dipping her fries in ketchup. 

“About that…” You trailed off, biting your lip waiting for her reaction. 

She dropped the food before it could get to her mouth. “No!”

“Look, it was when we were in high school! I was about to tell him when we moved out here, but then he was saying how there was so much on his plate and he was feeling a lot of pressure and I just didn’t want to add to that, you know?” You took a bite of your food before continuing. “I didn’t want him to resent me for telling him at such a crucial point in his life.” 

“And now?”

You shrugged. “I think I’ll always have some sort of feelings for him. He was my best friend growing up.”

“You’re going to have to be really good at hiding those feelings when you’re posing as boyfriend and girlfriend with him.”

“Who said I’m asking him?”

Ivy raised her eyebrows. “Where else are you going to find a blond-haired Morgan to bring home to your family across the country in less than two weeks?” You threw a fry at her, which she grabbed and put on her own plate. “Besides, there’s no harm in asking. He can always say no.”

-----

“Yes.”

“Really?” You asked a little too loudly, putting your coffee mug down a little too harshly, gaining the attention of others in the cafe the two of you routinely catch up in. But you didn’t care. You were expecting a little more skepticism from Morgan when you proposed him playing a fake boyfriend role in front of your family. 

“Yeah, ‘course. It’s my job to bail you out of trouble, isn’t it?” You playfully kicked him under the table. “Besides, I haven’t seen Vancouver or your family in a while. It’d be nice to go back to the old times.” 

“Oh my gosh, thank you, thank you, thank you!” You said, instinctively placing a hand on his arm laid across the table. “Okay, so I don’t know when your season ends but I’m hoping we can fly out for like three days maximum, so it’ll be quick, and we can use your job as an excuse so that’ll be good. For the story, obviously we just went out one day after being friends for a long time, so that’ll be easy. You asked me out. Five or six months is a good timeline for them not knowing but also you coming home so let’s stick to that. You can’t tell your parents because my mom will be furious if Shirley knew before her. Um, Ben, my little brother – you know him–, he’s bringing his girlfriend Ruby, but she’s chill so you’ll get along with her a lot. Drew, my oldest nephew, he’s Julie’s kid and then Charlie and Julie had Rebekah the year before last and Izzy, who is James’s wife, just had baby Taylor a couple months ago so the house is going to be chaotic. You should be writing this down, you know.” You slowed down to notice that Morgan was just staring at you. “I just said so much stuff you need to remember.”

“I know your family. Trust me, it’s going to be fine. I’ll remember all that,” He assured you, placing a hand over your arm like you had done to him.

“Are you sure? I just..I can’t have this go wrong. Julie already suspects the legitimacy of this…fake relationship.”

He squeezes your arm and sends you one of his smiles that makes your heart swell. “We’ve got this in the bag.”

-----

You’d both decided that it’d be easiest if you came to the airport together, so you said you’d pick him up from morning practice. You were waiting in the parking garage at the arena, scrolling through your phone, until you heard footsteps. Looking up, you see Morgan, Mitch, and Willy walking towards you. You give them a shy wave, and they all return with big grins, like they knew something they didn’t. Morgan came up to you, swung an arm over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your temple. 

“Bye guys, safe travels,” He shouted over his shoulder, the two of you walking towards your vehicle. Once they were out of earshot, you turned to Morgan.

“What was that?” 

“What?”

“That forehead kiss!”

“Oh!” His smile grew a little. “I was practicing for this weekend. Was it okay?” His slight concern made your heart beat faster and you could feel heat starting to go to your face. 

“I mean, yeah, but like won’t the guys think that, you know, we’re—” 

“Believe me, the guys already think we’re together.”

“What?!”

He laughed. “They asked about my plans for the holidays and I said I was going home with you. They just assumed we were dating and it felt like a lot of work to correct them. It’s okay, I promise.”

“If you say so,” you hummed. You unlatched yourself from his arm as you approached your car but Morgan stopped in his tracks and started to laugh. 

“You’re still driving this old thing?” He was referring to your blue Honda you’d had since high school. 

“Excuse me, you named this thing and Louise is still in great shape so of course I still drive her. Now get in.” He holds up his hands in surrender. You buckled yourself in and turned the engine over. The dash lit up like a Christmas tree and the radio was uneven again, so you hit the console a few times before it started to come out of both speakers. 

“Great shape, sure.”

“Shut up.” 

-----

Despite the busyness of the Toronto Pearson International Airport during the holidays, the two of you seemed to breeze through security and boarding. It wasn’t until you stepped onto the airplane, you’d realized just how much anxiety you got from flying. 

Morgan offered to put both carry-on bags in the overhead bins and you gladly took him up the offer. You slid into your seat, immediately putting on the seatbelt and making it tight against your hips. 

“We aren’t flying just yet,” He teased, sliding into the seat next to you.

“I know, it’s just that I–nevermind, it’s silly.” You murmured with a strained smile. 

“No, what is it?” You met your eyes and you took a deep breath. This was Morgan, your Morgan. He’d seen you cry after you got root beer up your nose and he only laughed a little. 

“Airplanes give me a lot of anxiety and I hate takeoffs. It’s just really nerve wracking for me.” 

“Okay, well I’m right here. Would it help if I held your hand?” You shyly nodded, and Mo grabbed a hold of your hand, lacing your fingers together and rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. You tried to take deep breaths but after the safety presentation, and the plane started to taxi, it got shallower and the grip on Morgan’s hand got stronger.

“I think it's time for a distraction. Want to help me out here?” He said, turning his body towards yours as much as he could. You nodded, trying not to focus on the bouncing of the wings outside your window. 

“What kind of pet names do you like?”

That was…not what you were expecting but it certainly is a distraction. “I don’t really know? I didn’t name our dogs, Julie or my parents did. Why?” You look over to Morgan to see him quietly laughing to himself. “What?” 

“I meant like, romantic pet names. So I can play this boyfriend role right, you know?”

“Oh,” you said, feeling your face heat up. “Uh, I don’t really know. My past boyfriends weren’t really into those.” You continued to take deep breaths as he pulled out his phone. 

“Okay, cool, I’ve got a list and we can just go through them?” You nodded and he started. 

“Honey?”

“We aren’t fifty years old Mo.”

“Sweetie?”

“I’m not five either,” you joked. At your attempt at humour, you say Morgan’s face lit up. 

“What about sweetheart?” Your grimace made him laugh and he moved on. “Kitten? Dear? Babe? Sugar plum?”

“You can call me babe. For the weekend, of course. I like that one.” 

“Of course, babe.” He winked. “And look, we’re in the air already. That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You looked out and the clouds were level, the city skyline peeking through like a scene out of a movie. You look back at him to see him already looking at you. Unable to say everything you feel for him in that moment (platonically, you tell yourself), you squeeze his hand. 

-----

As you touched back in Vancouver (still holding Morgan’s hand for safety purposes), it started to feel real. Real you were back in the city, real Morgan was here, and real that you were supposed to be acting like you’re in love. 

“Hey, I’ll be right back. Hold my bag for me?” Morgan asked, once you’d deplaned and entered the airport. You nodded and shooed him off, finding a place in the nearest lounge to wait for him. You pulled out your phone and started to catch up on messages when someone beside you cleared their throat.

“Sorry to bother you but did you go to Prince of Wales Secondary School in Vancouver?” You turned towards the voice to see someone so familiar but couldn’t put a finger on who.

“Um, yes. How did you know that?”

“I’m Abigail Brown. I think you were my lab partner in high school chemistry?” As soon as she said it, it was like everything rushed back to you. The two of you were good friends but just fell out of touch as years went on. 

“Oh my gosh yes! Oh my gosh, hi! How have you been?” You got out of your seat to give her a hug. 

“I’ve been really good! My girlfriend and I are headed to London for the holidays.”

“Oh fun! I’ve come back for the holidays with my uh..” You trailed off, thinking of what to call this arrangement. “Morgan Reilly, do you remember him?”

“Yeah, totally. Did he come back with you?” She asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“Yeah, we’re here together.”

“No way, that’s so sweet! Back in the day, everyone was wondering when you two would get together!”

“Oh, really?” You asked, surprised. You had thought that your crush on one of your closest friends was pretty discrete. 

“Yeah, a lot of us thought you’d be a cute couple. Turns out we were right,” she winked and nodded her head behind you. You turned to see Morgan coming back with two Tim Horton cups in his hands – one hot coffee for him and one Iced Capp for you. You tilted your head at his thoughtfulness. 

“My flight is boarding now, but it was so nice to see you again!” Abigail said, waving briefly to Morgan before leaving with her girlfriend. 

“Yeah, you too!” You called after her. “Is that coffee for me?” You asked, a wide smile on your face. 

“Because it is so ridiculously early, it is,” he said, placing it in your hands. “Who was that?”

“My high school lab partner. She thought we were together, actually.”

Morgan gave you a puzzled look. “Isn’t that what she’s supposed to think?”

“I mean, I guess, but we’re really just pretending for my family, so I didn’t think she’d think we’re together.” Morgan only hummed at your response and grabbed his bag. 

“Ready to head to your parents' then?” 

Like coming home, the two of you navigated through the airport easily and were on your way to your parents house in no time. Outside of the Uber, looking up at your childhood home, you felt your nerves getting the best of you again. The warm Christmas lights and the three cars in the driveway should’ve calmed you down, but instead had the opposite effect.

“Okay, so, again, we’ve been dating for five months, you asked me out. We kept it a secret, so your parents don’t know either. Ruby is Ben’s girlfriend. Drew and–”

“–Rebekah are Julie and Charlie’s kids. Rebekah is two years old. James married Izzy and their baby, Taylor, was born last month,” He finished with a smile. “Told ya I’d remember it. It’s going to be fine, let’s just go see your family?” He held out his hand for you to take and you cautiously placed it in his. He tugged you up to the front door, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to ring the doorbell. He left it over your shoulder and leaned down to whisper in your ear. 

“Trust me, we’ve got this.” He pressed a quick kiss to your cheek but before you could process what he was playing at, your mom had opened the front door.

“Oh, it is our Morgan! Thomas, I told you it was going to be him! Oh, come in, come in,” she ushered you in and your family all appeared, saying their hellos, taking your bags up to your room, placing drinks in your hands and leading you both into the living room. You settled in beside Morgan, your thighs touching each other as he reached over to entangle your hand with his.

“So, Morgan, my daughter hasn’t told us anything yet! How long have you been together?” Your mom said, once everyone was back together and catching up with the two of you. 

“Couldn’t have been too recent if you brought him home with you,” Julie said, her skepticism showing through. 

“Can’t be too long either since she never told us about him!” James said, nudging her.

Before you could get a word in and defend yourselves, Morgan spoke up. “We started dating five months ago. Might seem a little fast to come home for Christmas but I remember your family pretty well from when I was little. Plus, the schedule lined up really nicely this year so we figured, why not? But we decided to keep it to ourselves for the first little bit, with my job and everything. It can be a really hard adjustment. Especially with the media, I didn’t want them to freak her out.” 

“Aw, how sweet of you.” 

“Who asked who out?” Ruby said, curled up next to her boyfriend. 

“She asked me.” Your heart stopped as Morgan deviated from the plan you’d created. “It was nice, though, so I didn’t have to rack up the courage to ask her the same thing.” He turned towards you, meeting your eyes. To your family, you were recounting your first date and how you’ve been in love since. But Morgan was trying to get away with changing the story and you were civilly throwing daggers at him. 

“That’s nice. But you’ve got to get dressed, we’re still going cross country skiing this afternoon.” Julie said, standing up. 

“Why?” you whined. “We’re tired from traveling.”

“Then exercise will be good for you. And it’s tradition, you can’t deprive Morgan of that.” The smile she sent you was fake and you could tell, narrowing your eyes at her. 

“Yeah, babe, don’t deprive me from family traditions,” he commented, earning a small poke to his side, but you nodded, going to find your warm clothes. 

-----

Cypress Mountain was where your family always skied on Christmas Eve. It was a tradition passed on from your grandfather, who’d done it with his father, and your family liked to keep it alive. It was a thirty minute drive, forty five in Vancouver traffic, so your head fell to Morgan’s shoulder. Soon enough, he was shaking you awake.

“We’re here, sleeping beauty,” He said softly, unbuckling your seatbelt. “Ready?”

“The better question is if you’re ready. I’ve been doing this for years,” you laughed, getting out of the car and walking towards the lodge to get Morgan skis. 

“Please, I’m an athlete. I’ll be fantastic.” He grabbed your hand and your heart started to beat faster at the cute gesture, only to notice some of your family behind you, watching the two of you. Of course, it was only for show. What else would be for? You reminded yourself. 

Twenty minutes later, and you were still watching Mo struggle to clip his skis in, trying not to laugh when he fell over. 

“‘I’m an athlete, I’ll be fantastic’” you said, mocking him and he pouted. You unclipped your own skis and held your hands out to help him get up. 

“The key is this little latch here,” you said, guiding his foot into the ski. You did the same with the other before getting yourself ready. 

“Where would I be without you?” He said, as the two of you, slowly, moved to the track. 

“Probably still be on the ground,” you said with a cheeky smile. You knocked his poles with yours. “Want to go this way? It’s easier than the track they’re doing,” you said, referring to the rest of your family. 

He looked up at the hill your family, including your little nephew, were already halfway up and shook his head. 

“If this is a family tradition, and I’m supposed to be part of your family, I should do it with them. We can join them, I’ll be okay.” 

Morgan was right, for the most part. He got the hang of it pretty quickly, and soon enough you were both caught up to your family. He was smiling, and talking with your dad and brothers. You had time to catch up with Ruby and Charlie, who you never really saw in the family Zoom chats. 

Until you rounded the corner and saw Morgan standing to the side. You didn’t understand why until you saw what was ahead – the hills. For your family, including daredevil Drew, it was easy. But for a beginner like Morgan? You understood why he stopped. 

“If you want to turn back now, it’s okay. They’ll understand.” 

He shook his head again. “I’ve got to sell this boyfriend thing, don’t I? Just…can you go first?” You nodded and made your way down, gaining some speed before slowing down and stopping at the base to watch him. 

“You’ve got this, Mo, just do it!” You told him. He nodded at your words and came down slowly, mimicking the way you had just conquered the hill. His eyes were determined, the way you saw he was on the ice, and your smile got wider as he made it down successfully.

“Yes! You did it!”

That was, until he caught an edge and very ungracefully tumbled to the ground. 

“Well, you mostly did it. I thought you were supposed to be coordinated!” You said in a joking manner, maneuvering over to where he was trying to get up. 

“I don’t usually have these long things attached to my feet!” After his attempts, he held his hands out and you helped him stand upright again. 

“Are you okay? It looked like you fell pretty hard.” 

“My ego is bruised more than anything,” He mumbled. 

“Why? None of them saw your wipeout.” You nodded towards your family who were all ahead and had no idea of what had happened.

“But you did.”

“It’s not like you have to impress me,” You said, waving it off and starting to move along the trail. He only huffed, settling into pace beside you. 

-----

After making it back to the lodge in one piece, you all traveled back to your parent’s and sat down for a family dinner, albeit quick, as the kids’ bedtime was long ago. You helped your mom with the dishes while Morgan had “bonding time”, as he called it, with your brothers and Dad. 

“I’m glad you brought Morgan home, sweetheart,” she said, breaking through the quiet sounds of washing dishes. “He’s a catch and you seem really happy with him.”

You blushed, involuntarily, and nodded. “I am really happy when I’m with him.”

There were sounds of protests and laughter, so you peeked your head around to see Ben on the couch leaning over Morgan’s lap to ruffle James’ hair, only to get caught by Morgan in a loose headlock. Your dad was laughing at their antics and you joined him. It was nice to see Morgan be so carefree, especially with the stress of the season. 

“Hey!” Ben got your attention. “Your boyfriend is bullying me, tell him to stop!” 

“Maybe you deserved it,” You said, moving to be behind the couch. “Morgan is usually right.”

Morgan looked at you and only let Ben free once you gave me a small nod. You leaned down over the couch, wrapping your arms around his chest. At the slight display of affection, James gagged but thankfully, Izzy came down and whisked away her husband. Ben left shortly after that and you noticed Morgan’s head starting to drop. 

“Okay, we’re still on Toronto time a little bit,” You checked with Morgan, who was nodding along. “So we’re going to hit the hay, but Mom, I didn’t see the spare blankets for the pull-out couch?”

“Oh, you don’t need them, Ben has them.”

“What?” You asked, removing your hands from Morgan so he couldn’t tell how clammy they suddenly got. “Where’s Morgan going to sleep?”

“In your bed. It’ll be better for his back.” She answered. 

“Where am I going to sleep?” 

“In your bed.” She sighed when she saw the shock on your face. “Look, we trust Morgan. Besides, it’s a big bed and your dad and I aren’t under the impression you haven’t already slept together.” Her bluntness made you choke on your breath and Morgan patted your back, answering for you.

“Thank you Brenda. We'll be good, I promise.” 

“I know you will. And if you aren’t, know I’m not above telling your mother,” She said with a smirk. “Now, goodnight.” 

You both said your goodnights, and headed up to your room. Morgan shut the door behind you and you immediately started apologizing. 

“I’m sorry, I was certain she’d send one of us to the basement. She never let Charlie or Izzy sleep in the same room with my siblings until they were married,” you said, rummaging through your suitcase for pajamas. 

He waved you off and took a look around your room. It hadn’t changed much since high school, your parents leaving it unchanged for when you came back. The photos in the frames and on the walls were faded and each childhood trophy and trinket was covered in a small layer of dust – not enough for it to be untouched, but enough for it to be preserved. 

The sound of you digging through the closet for extra pillows broke him away from your walls. There were two blankets spread out on the floor and you dropped the pillows you’d found on the space above them.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting ready for bed,” You answered. “You can get changed in the bathroom.”

“Why aren’t you in the bed?” 

“Because you’re sleeping on the bed, hotshot. Can you please get changed, I want to sleep.” He huffed but nodded, slipping out of the room. When he came back to see you curled up on the floor beside the queen sized bed, he let out a small sigh and moved towards you. 

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor. Please come sleep on the bed?” He said, standing over top of you.

“I…I don’t want it to be weird.” You said, suddenly interested in the fraying fibres of your blanket. 

“It’s not going to be weird. I promise. Please?” You turned to see him with his puppy-dog eyes and you started to break.

“I don’t know Mo…”

“I’d feel better if you slept in the bed, babe, please? For me?” At that, you relented, nodding your head. He helped you up, gathering the blankets from the floor and laying them over you in the bed. 

He slipped in beside you, a large margin of space between the two of you. It was silent as you got comfy and you turned off your side table light. Morgan hadn’t followed your lead, so you looked over to see him looking at his side table. 

“Remember when we took this picture?” Morgan said, pointing to the only frame on the table. You didn’t even have to look at the photo to know which one he was referring to. It was the last day he spent in Vancouver before the draft and it was a few days before your graduation date. You’d taken your car to the North Shore and hiked to Lighthouse Park. The serenity of being able to see far into the ocean and see the downtown skyline was the place both of you had gone to clear your mind. You’d taken a silly selfie together but it was the one physical memento of your last time together in Vancouver. It was when you almost confessed your feelings to him. 

“Of course I do. It was a good day.”

“Do you think about it a lot?” He asked, and you turned your body to face him. 

“I mean, sometimes, yeah. Do you think about it a lot?”

He nodded, his eyes fixated on the picture. “Yeah. Reminds me of when life seemed normal.” 

You stayed silent for a few moments, watching his eyes begin to get hazy looking at the picture. “Are you okay, Mo?”  

He just nodded curtly, and turned off the light. “Goodnight.” 

You couldn’t lie and say his behaviour didn’t feel like a thousand cuts to your heart but you said goodnight before turning to face away from him, like he’d done to you. 

-----

The sun shining in from the window woke you up in the morning. You started to stir, stretching your arms and legs, but stopped when you felt arms around you. You slowly turned your head to see Morgan close to you, his arms wrapped around your waist. Sometime during the night, he must’ve moved to start cuddling you. You thought it should feel weird, being so close to your friend like this, but all you felt was a sense of calm. Being hyper aware of his arms, you shifted slightly to face him. 

You took the opportunity to look at him, really look at him. Not on the TV, through his hockey gear, not in the cafe when he was conscious that anyone could recognize him, but when he was just him. The sun was shining on him, giving his skin that soft golden glow. The lines on his forehead were almost nonexistent and his beard was filling out nicely. He looked so peaceful here, like he wasn’t one of Toronto’s biggest stars. You looked at him, your face softening as he started to stir under your gaze.

“Morning sleeping beauty,” you teased in a quiet voice, the same way he’d done to you yesterday. 

“Hmm, what time is it?” His voice was raspy and it took everything in yourself not to kiss him right there.

“Early,” you answered and he hummed in response. He slowly opened his eyes and must’ve noticed how close he was to you because his eyes got increasingly wider. His eyes met yours and when he didn’t see any panic or disgust in them, he relaxed, a small smile coming onto his face. 

“Morning babe,” He said, pulling you a little closer to him. 

“Nobody’s around, you don’t have to call me that.”

“What if I want to?” 

You looked up at him, eyes wide in shock and your lips parted. What did he say? It might have been a shock to your brain, but your body seemed to long for a closeness to him. Your heart wasn’t beating faster, no, it seemed to slow down, as if the idea of a relationship with him was the only thing to calm you. 

You noticed his eyes glancing down at your lips and you swallowed. Was he…what was he doing? He started to lean his head towards you and you felt yourself leaning in as well. He was close enough you could feel his breath hot on your face and see the grey flicks in his eyes. You started to close your eyes, his hand caressing your waist from under the covers, and —

“Auntie, Auntie! He came! Santa came! You have to get up! Come see!” Drew yelled through the door, pounding away as if you didn’t hear him. You broke away from Morgan, the small bubble popped by your nephew.  

“We’ll be right there Drew!” you yelled back, rubbing your forehead and getting out of bed. You left Morgan in bed, running downstairs to start some coffee, desperately needing to clear your head. What just happened? 

“Morning, sweetheart!” You sighed as your mom walked into the room, too chipper for how early it was. “I’ve got the pajamas for you and Morgan.”

“Morgan too?” It was a tradition to dress in matching pajamas on Christmas morning but you didn’t think it was something your parents would enforce for him. 

“Yup. Go get changed, I want to take photos soon.” She placed the two pajama sets in your arms and you trudged upstairs. You figured Mo was still laying in bed so you didn’t knock, just charged right in. Maybe you should’ve knocked. But then you wouldn’t get to see Morgan shirtless. Your brain short-circuited until you saw him looking back at you and you shut your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I forgot to knock! My mom wanted me to give you these. Matching pajamas and photos before gifts is a family tradition.” You tried to pull out his pair with your eyes closed but Mo just laughed when he saw you struggling. He came closer, his distinctive cologne invading your senses. He took one of the pairs, hopefully his size, from your arms.

“You can open your eyes, it’s okay.” You slowly opened one eye to test the waters, to see he was still without a shirt. You stared at him as long as it is socially acceptable to look at your best friend shirtless, before rushing out of the room to get changed yourself. 

You beat Morgan downstairs, and got started on the coffees. After buying him many hungover wake-up coffees, you knew his order by heart. You brought them out to the table, your sister and her family having their portrait taken in front of the tree. 

Mo came up from behind you, wrapping his arms around you and taking a whiff of your coffee. He recoiled at the hint of chocolate. 

“Yours has vanilla creamer, don’t worry,” you told him, taking a sip while watching Taylor get her first family photo in front of the tree. It was so nice to see the smiles across your family’s faces as you had this tradition. When it became Ben and Ruby’s turn, you noticed Drew starting to get a little antsy, his eyes fixated on the big box with his name on it. 

“Okay, sweetheart, yours and Morgan’s turn,” your mom said, clearing the area for you two to sit. 

“Oh, Mom, Drew’s looking a little antsy. We can skip ours–”

“No!” Mo interrupted you, taking one last sip of his coffee before tugging you along to sit in front of the tree. You gave him a look and smiled shyly. “It’s our first Christmas together. I want a picture. Please?” 

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” You turned to the camera, plastering a smile on. You were pretty close to him, your legs touching and his arm around your shoulders. Near the end,  Morgan pressed a kiss to your cheek and you blushed, the sound of the camera clicking long forgotten as you stared into his eyes. 

“Auntie, can I please please open my presents from Santa now?” Drew said, once again interrupting the moment between you and Morgan.

“Of course, baby, but you have to open the ones from me and Morgan next, deal?” He shrieked and scrambled over to the boxes, ripping into his wrapping paper. You stood up, grabbing your coffee before watching your nephew and niece on Christmas morning.

“Look at how cute you two are together,” She said, tilting the camera towards you. The first one was a cute photo. Morgan had his lips pressed against your cheek and your face was scrunched up in joy. She switched it to the next one, where the two of you were looking into each other’s eyes. He had the softest, earnest smile on his face. “I swear, I haven’t seen any people so in love since Ben met Ruby. I’m so glad you brought him home.” 

“Thanks, Mom.” You put on the best fake-smile you could, and turned back to the kids, trying not to think about how they two of you did look in love. But it wasn’t real and your stomach sunk. You took a seat on the couch, talking to Rebekah about her new doll and watching Drew drive his toy cars across the coffee table. 

“Who are these from?” you dad asked, holding up some small packages wrapped in blue paper.

“Oh, those are from me sir.” Morgan spoke up from behind you, moving to sit beside you. “There should be one for everyone.” Your dad nodded and handed them out to everyone while you turned to your fake-boyfriend. 

“Mo, I told you you didn’t have to bring anything,” you said, eyeing everyone tearing into their small gifts. 

“Now what kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” He winked at you, before turning to see their reactions. You were glad you’d turned too.

Everyone was holding up a different variety of a Toronto Maple Leafs keychain. Ben held one with a bottle opener on it and Drew held one that had skate on it. Some of them had the shape of Ontario with them or a special spinny part in the middle.

“You’re really banking on us liking you, eh?” Julie said, holding up her Rielly jersey keychain. 

“I’m planning on sticking around for a while. I figure you’ll be fans sooner or later,” he laughed off your sister’s hazing and assured your parents it was the least he could do. He turned to you. “And I didn’t forget you either.”

“What? No. Babe, I thought we were doing gifts back in Toronto?” If you’d known, you would’ve gotten him something, but he seemed unfazed. He brought out a medium box and placed it in your lap.  

“Are you sure? I didn’t bring anything for you,” you whispered to him. He just nodded and told you to open it. You ripped into the wrapping paper, opened the box, and tore out the tissue paper only to stop.

“You didn’t.” 

“I did,” He said, his face growing. “Bring it out, let’s see it.”

You lifted out of the box a dark wash denim jacket, the same one you’d been trying to rationalize buying for the past three months. It was your size and you couldn’t help but run your fingers over the seams, tracing the buttons. 

“Check the inside,” Morgan said, leaning over your shoulder. You turned your head to see him slightly blushing, and you turned to the jacket’s inside as quickly as you could. Inside there was a small label stitched in. Upon closer inspection, you read what it said and your breath hitched. 

 You’ve got a smile that could light up this whole town. Don’t forget it. Love, your Morgan

“Mo, I don’t even know what to say. This is-this is perfect. I love it, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He pressed a kiss to your temple, before slipping out of the room, both empty mugs in his hands. Your heart started to beat faster again, and as you stared down at the inscription, you had to remind yourself that it didn’t mean anything special. He was acting like your boyfriend, but he wasn’t your boyfriend. This was all fake, and this must’ve been a part of it; a show for your family to make sure you didn’t get in trouble. 

You shoved those feelings deep inside you, instead focusing on the Christmas spirit your family had. The living room was full of laughs and someone had turned on the Christmas music. Morgan came back and sat beside you, his arm resting comfortably over the back of the couch and you couldn’t help but curl into his side. The kids came over and asked to play with Morgan and he eagerly agreed, switching from playing cars to dolls to lifting them up to play the airplane game. Like the Grinch, your heart grew three sizes watching him interact with your family – the way he was so patient and sweet with them meant everything, even if he was just pretending. 

Later, your Grams arrived and Morgan was quick to win her over as well. You bit your lip, trying to stop from smiling so wide as you watched him help her with her coat, and lead her over to where he was sitting. 

“Do you mind holding her for a few minutes?” Izzy said, coming over with Taylor in her arms.

“Of course not! Come ‘ere, darling girl.” You rocked the baby in your arms, sometimes looking over to where Morgan was. Sometimes you even catch him looking at you. You took Taylor’s little hand and waved at him, and he over-enthusiastically waved back, making you laugh. 

“You picked a good one, you know? The two of you are really adorable together.” Izzy said, coming back to take her daughter from you. 

“Thanks Iz. He’s just…” You trailed off, trying to describe the situation. “I couldn’t imagine doing all of this with anyone else.” And it was the truth. From the plane ride to skiing to the gifts this morning, you couldn’t fathom bringing back a stranger and pulling this off in the same way. 

“Sounds like you’ve found the one then.” Her comment made you choke on air and turned into a full coughing fit. Before you knew it, Morgan was beside you, his blue eyes full of concern. 

“Are you okay?” His hand was rubbing your upper back as you continued to cough. You nodded as best you could, and he turned to get his cup. When you seemed to be finished, he handed it to you. 

“Here, drink. It’s water.” You gulped down the water and sighed. 

“Thank you.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” 

“I’m good, thank you. I’m just going to get my lip balm; will you be okay on your own for a while?” You asked, placing a hand on his arm. 

“It’s your family, not war,” He laughed. “Go, I’ll be fine.” 

You smiled at his comment and gave him a quick cheek peck before making your way out of the room. In the bathroom, you took a breather, trying to stop your cheeks from blushing. Whatever you were doing with Morgan, it felt real. But it wasn’t, and you had to keep reminding yourself of that before you got hurt. 

When you exited, Grams was standing outside the door. 

“Sorry, I didn’t realize someone was waiting,” you said, quickly leaving the bathroom but she waved you off. 

“Oh, I haven’t been here that long. But dear, my goodness, that Morgan. He’s a keeper, dear. You hold onto him, you hear me? With him, you’ll be happy for the rest of your life.” She said, patting your cheek before walking past you to the bathroom. You stood in shock for a moment at her words, before taking a deep breath and moving on. 

You were just friends. 

You repeated that to yourself as you sat next to him, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. You repeated it again when he moved your legs into his lap, caressing your ankle. You said it again when he snagged the race car, arguably the best Monopoly piece, only to give it to you, taking the lame iron for himself. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” Julie said, tapping your shoulder, just before Monopoly (another family tradition) started. You nodded, and lifted your legs out of Mo’s lap. You pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before following her into the kitchen. 

“What’s up?”

“I wanted to apologize.” You furrowed your brows a little bit. “You know, for thinking your relationship was fake? It was wrong for me to think your relationship wasn’t serious but…I was just trying to look out for Mom and Dad. You don’t see how worried they get when you say you don’t have anyone in that big city. You’re the youngest, they’re always going to worry. And it’s just …You never even remotely told me about anyone and I didn’t want you to be faking it, just to get them off your back. But I was wrong and I’m sorry if it seemed like I was doubting your relationship. He’s perfect for you, and you seem really happy together.” 

It was everything you’d been wanting to hear – that even the most skeptic of your family bought your lie and was happy for Christmas. But no relief came like you thought it would; only a lump forming in your throat. “Thanks Julie, that…that means a lot. Would you excuse me please?”

You slipped out of the room, taking the stairs two at a time. You paced around for a few moments, before sitting on the edge of your bed, placing your head in your hands. You’ve gotten in too deep now and it’s going to hurt everyone — yourself included — when you have a ‘breakup’. Your mom will resent Morgan, sweet sweet Morgan, and he’ll probably get chewed out by his own mother, and it’ll all be your fault. You did this to your family, to Morgan, to yourself. 

“What’s wrong?” Morgan said, leaning against your doorframe. 

“Julie thinks we’re dating. Like for real. They all do. ” At your words, he pushed off the wall and sat beside you on the bed, his hands dangerously close to touching yours. You move them into your lap before you can’t function. 

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

“I thought that was the whole point of this? To make them think we’re dating?”

“No, it was. It’s just….” You trailed off, looking down at your hands. 

“It’s just what?” 

“It’s too much, okay!” You stood up and turned to face him. “Like you’re here. You’re in Vancouver again, with me again, in my parent’s house like we’re fifteen again! You can’t be around like this and expect me not to think about the road not taken! And it doesn’t seem to bother you! And I don’t like lying! I don’t need to be lying to both our families, your teammates, my friends! I don’t need to be lying to myself that I don’t enjoy this! It feels wrong. I know we lied a lot as kids, but it feels different this time. It feels like people are going to get hurt and I don’t think I was prepared for that.” 

He took a moment. “We don’t have to lie, you know.”

“What do you mean? We’re fake dating; fake indicating lies.” You crossed your arms across your chest. 

He took another moment, taking a deep breath. “We don’t have to be fake dating. We could…be dating for real.”

“What?” you whispered.

“Can I be honest here? Like really honest?” He asked, and you could only nod slightly. “I thought you would’ve got your head out of your ass by now. I thought you had feelings for me.

"Why do you think you said my name? You could’ve said any other name but you said mine. You could’ve found any other Morgan in Toronto but you asked me. You could’ve come clean to them! There were a thousand ways you could’ve gotten out of this but you didn’t! I thought that meant we had something special; that you were finding excuses to bring me here.” He sees your blank, shocked face as a sign to continue. 

“And now that we’re here? Back in our hometown? It just all rushes back to me about how I didn’t tell you how I felt. Then I spend the days doing your family traditions and seeing you so happy with Drew and Rebekah and thinking that I could’ve had this a long time ago. But I was a coward and I don’t know if I can make the same mistake again.”

“What are you talking about?” You said breathlessly. 

“When we were at Lighthouse Park that day, I almost told you I loved you. But I didn’t. And I went to Toronto and tried to forget the huge regret I’d made. I can’t- I can’t do that again. I love you. I have loved you since we were kids. I didn’t want you to be tied down when you moved out so I didn’t say anything and I tried to forget how I felt about you. But in two days, you’ve made me fall for you all over again and I can’t go back to how things were. I won’t. I don’t want to be your fake boyfriend when I am irrevocably in love with you. I want this,” He stood up and walked closer to you, his fingers reaching out for yours. “I want this to be real.” 

“Mo…holy shit.”

“Yeah. It’s a lot, I know.” He went to step back, to give you space after everything he said, but you held onto his hand tighter. 

“No, like holy shit, I was going to tell you I loved you that day too.” One of your hands traveled to rest on his cheekbone as you caressed his soft skin. “I didn’t want to give you more pressure as you started your career; that wouldn’t be fair. But some part of me has always wanted this to be real.”

“Really?” The corners of your mouth started to lift up as you nodded. “Can I kiss you?” He asked, ever the gentleman.

“Please.” And less than a second later, his mouth was on yours. Maybe it was a good thing you waited so long, because this was better than anything you could’ve imagined at eighteen. His hands found your waist, and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. 

When you finally pulled away for air, you pressed your forehead against his. “Wow.” 

“You’re telling me.” You giggled at him and played with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Guess you can tell the team we’re dating for real life now.”

He laughed and pulled you in for another kiss. “For real life, eh?”

“For real life. As long as you’ll have me. ”

“Forever then, babe.” He winked, squeezing you tight. “Now let’s go join the family, yeah? Gotta beat my in-laws at Monopoly.”

His antics had you in laughter all the way down the stairs, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. There was happiness because of him.

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[angryschnauzer]

Undercover Honeymoon

Summary; Having survived a helicopter crash that killed off the gang you and your senior agent had infiltrated, you hide out from the storm that brought the aircraft down by pretending to be Honeymooners at a boutique hotel... but what will 24 hours with August Walker bring you? Trouble, that’s what, and the best possible kind.

Pairing: August Walker x Female Reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, honestly this is entirely smut, its a crack fic too. Sigh, here goes: face slap, murder, August in a hoodie and grey sweatpants, oral sex (female recieving), blowjob, drunken antics, impared judgement, titty fucking, fingering, unprotected sex, anal sex, inappropriate lube, multiple orgasms, dubious consent, choking, dom-vibes, Sugar Daddy arrangement (but no Daddy kink).

I do not run a tag list, but if you go and follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and hit notifications, you’ll get an alert to any new stories i post. All previous fics can be found on there or on my Ao3

Undercover Honeymoon

The helicopter spiralled out of control, the tall pines looming through the storm of the century rain, screaming filled your ears, unsure if it was the sound of the engines failing or coming from your own lungs. The aircraft made contact with the trees and everything went black.

-

“Agent… AGENT!” a slap across your face sprang you from your unconscious state, your vision blurred and you winced at the sharp pain that shot through your temple as the face before you came into focus.

“Walker?” you muttered; “Can’t blow our cover…”

Strong arms gripped your shoulders;

“Wake UP! Everyone else is dead”

The next hour was surreal. Agent Walker - your superior officer - had pulled you from the wreckage of the helicopter, past the lifeless bodies of the gang you’d infiltrated, some of which had injuries that looked suspiciously like gunshot wounds. Either way you were alive and so was the other undercover agent, and having spent the last four days running bank robberies you were relieved to be rid of the brutal gang.

Agent Walker had half dragged half carried you through the forest, and even though it was the middle of the day, the torrential rain and dark storm clouds above made the way feel like you were travelling at twilight. When you stumbled on some roots he caught you, his arm firmly around your waist;

“C’mon Agent, not much further now…” his voice softer than usual, reassuring even.

“Where’re we going?”

“Out of season ski lodge… should be quiet this time of year, just a couple of wildlife watchers no doubt”

-

What you’d been expecting was a cute little place with checkered curtains and cutesy decor, what you’d arrived at was a luxury boutique hotel. Agent Walker had managed to spin a very convincing tale of your car leaving the highway due to the weather and he’d arrange to get it recovered after the storm so you could continue your ‘honeymoon’. The receptionist had smiled warmly and offered the pair of you the luxury suite, August merrily peeling $100 bills off a stack he’d produced from his pocket, the paper band that held them together from the robbery slyly crumpled up and you quietly picked it up from the floor, a tiny smirk on the corner of his face when he spotted you covering his rare mistake.

-

Ten minutes later you were settled in your shared room, starting to peel yourself out of your soaked boots and clothing as you eyed the enormous bathroom and ultra fluffy robes that were provided.

“I’m going to go to the gift shop…” he announced, breaking the silence; “They do hoodies and stuff, i’ll grab some dry things to change into…”

“Thanks Agent Walker… I’m going to take a bath…”

He nodded quietly, standing at the door;

“It’s August… call me August”

You must have fallen asleep in the bath, as the next thing you know there is an insistent knocking on the bathroom door;

“Honey? Honey, everything ok in there?”

“Y-yes, Sorry, fell asleep…”

“Ok Honey, just got room service here delivering some lunch”

“Thanks Aug… Augie…”

Augie? Where the hell did that come from? You mentally chastised yourself. An hour ago he was your senior agent and all round grumpy supervisor, now he was ‘Augie’? You actually facepalmed yourself before taking a deep breath and climbing out of the bath. A few moments later once you were dry, wearing the fluffy robe you stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, your breath catching in your throat;

“Augie… we have company?”

Agent Walker was standing in the middle of the room in his shirt, underwear and socks, talking to the room service attendant as he tipped the young man;

“Darling, lunch is here, you must be famished” he let a warm smile spread over his face as he turned to the staff member; “We must have a bite to eat… expending lots of energy, it is our honeymoon after all…”

Once he’d ushered the man out of the room he cleared his throat and his expression dropped, his face serious again;

“I got your new attire… it fits more with the location” he motioned for you to follow him to the bed where there were a number of things laid out, however your feet were rooted to the floor; “What?”

“You’re… you’re in your underwear…”

He looked down, almost in shock to discover he was without his cargo pants;

“Yes? And you’re completely naked beneath that fetching white robe” he motioned to a side of the bed where a bunch of things were sat on the pristine white duvet; “So unless you wish to eat lunch having me know you are naked save for a glorified towel with sleeves - and that would be a delightful thought - you may want to get changed whilst i shower”

Without another word he smirked, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and grabbed a pile of clothing on the bed, before sauntering into the bathroom, leaving you open jawed at both his sassiness and his tight ass in snug jersey boxers.

Turning back to what was laid on the bed you looked over what he’d managed to get in the hotel’s boutique; a daringly short floral summer dress, a hoodie with the Hotel’s logo on, a pack of novelty thong panties also with bears on, and the highest heeled wedge sandals you’d ever seen. Although none of this surprised you, it was after all the kind of hotel where in good weather, the rich and famous could have cocktails on the deck as they overlooked the Rocky mountains, the fact he’d managed to find your exact size in everything was impressive.

Leaving the heels off for now, you pull the panties and dress on, throwing the hoodie on unzipped to cover up a little, before going to investigate the food, realising that you probably hadn’t eaten for close to 24 hours. You were bent over the service trolley scrutinising the various dishes that had been delivered when you heard his voice;

“Huh, didn’t need to buy you a wallet, those tiny panties show off your silken purse beautifully Princess”

Spinning around you gasped, about to give him a piece of your mind but your train of thought stopped like a record scratch. There before you stood Agent August Walker, grey sweats hanging dangerously low on his hips, chest bare as he pulled a khaki green hoodie over his still damp curls. You noticed how his beard was a little beyond stubble, his mustache curling as a small smile tugged as his lips. Your gaze unashamedly ran down the length of his entire body, emphasis on length as it was clear he was without any underwear, and those rumours that were quietly whispered in the ladies room at the Pentagon were looking to be true as to exactly why they called him ‘The Hammer’.

Still holding a cooling French Fry he sauntered over to you before grabbing a sandwich from the platter;

“My apologies… that was inappropriate” he took a bite, before talking with his mouth full; “Been a crazy 24 hours huh?”

“Y-yeah, you could say that… so, what’s the plan?”

Just at that moment an incredible gust of wind rattled the windows to the point you thought they would blow in, the lights overhead flickered before settling back to bright as he answered;

“Eat, Drink, Sleep. We’re stuck here at least overnight. We don’t have any cells or electronics people can trace, and having checked the map this is not the closest civilisation to the crash site so even if people did come looking for us, this isn’t the first place they’d think of… however in this weather the roads are impassable, at least two rivers have breached their banks, we’re basically cut off from the rest of the world here in our own little bubble” he took a bite of sandwich before grinning at you; “So eat up, the bar downstairs is well stocked, dinner is apparently served in about 4 hours, and there’s a game room if you’re up for a round or two of pool…”

-

Giggling you both tumbled into your suite, August flicking the light switch up and down before realising the power had gone out at the exact moment he’d unlocked the door;

“Oooh dark… are you afraid of the dark Princess?”

The pair of you stumbled and turned, pushing the door shut and you found yourself pressed between it and August’s body, his lips finding your neck as he pressed kisses along your jugular, his facial hair leaving behind a trail of tingling skin in its wake;

“Depends who i’m in the dark with…”

He was so close, in the faint last traces of daylight as the storm took hold of the night you could see the outline of his face, how his long eyelashes rested against his cheeks as he closed his eyes, his breath warm on your skin as you were surrounded by his scent, pine soap and single malt whiskey;

“A monster…”

“I was never afraid of monsters…”

He dropped to his knees in front of you, pressing a kiss to your clothed stomach before his hands were beneath the skirt and pulling your novelty panties down;

“Hold your dress up Princess, show me that pretty pussy”

Doing as he told you, you gripped the pretty fabric in your hands as he hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before his thick fingers parted your folds and he dived in. His mustache and light beard pricked at your sensitive skin, but his tongue and lips soothed your aching core, desperate for attention and dripping with need as he went to town on you. He quickly brought you to orgasm before pushing you on for the next, his fingers now knuckle deep in your velvet walls, curling just right to find that spot that had you dripping, his tongue working against your clit to the point where you had to steady yourself by curling one hand through his soft chestnut curls, riding his face as you cried out his name.

Now over sensitive, you pulled his curls to get him to relent, a grunt of frustration coming from between your thighs;

“Augie… please… too sensitive…”

He quickly stood, lifting you to kiss you roughly, his tongue pushing into your mouth and you could taste yourself on his tongue as he gripped your ass as he carried you across the room before unceremoniously dropping you on the bed;

“Strip” he commanded as he staggered to the bathroom. 

You ignored his request, instead reaching for a bottle of water at the side of the bed, taking a drink from he as he returned holding a bottle;

“August… what’s that?”

He looked down at the bottle, almost surprised he was holding something and blinked a few times before looking back at you;

“Baby oil. Its... Baby oil”

“Why do you have Baby oil?” you asked, already knowing the answer but with a sly streak wanting to get him to admit it

“Because they didn’t sell condoms in the gift shop so i cant fuck your pussy because i can’t check to see if you’re on birth control” he blurted out quickly.

Whatever you had been expecting, it hadn’t been that, and as you coughed on the water you had been about to drink, August got distracted and moved to light the candles that sat on the table in the centre of the room now that the only available light was the tiny light over the sink in the bathroom that was battery operated. You watched as he somehow managed to strike the matches and light the candles even though he was visibly drunk, before returning back to the bed and standing over you;

“Why aren’t you naked?” he frowned at you; “Don’t make me rip that pretty little dress off of you Princess”

Shimmying out of your dress you bit your lip as you watched him watching you, the low light dancing over your body and enough for you to see the obscene bulge barely contained by his sweatpants. He stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you before he took hold of your ankles and roughly pulled you to the edge of the bed before he pulled the grey sweats down and you finally got sight of his legendary hammer;

“Fuck…”

“We’ll get to that Princess, but first, suck”

Taking him in your hands he was hot and throbbing at your touch, his thick shaft patterned with veins, heavy and virile. You pumped your fist, your fingers unable to meet as you worked his uncut dick. You felt his hand on the back of your head, pulling you closer until you had no choice but to open your mouth and take him as deep as you could, gagging as he immediately hit the back of your throat and started to fuck your mouth.

Holding your head in place with both hands he rocked his hips back and forth, groaning as he stretched your lips almost uncomfortably. Soon you had spit running down your chin as he rained down a stream of degrading compliments;

“Cock hungry slut, look at you with my dick in your mouth… does it taste good, Jesus christ your tongue is perfect, yeah do that thing again, fuck, i can feel your throat tight around me…” with a gasp he pulled out, a trail of spittle hanging from your lips to his angry red tip, before he grabbed the baby oil and pushed you back until you were laying flat on the bed;

“Push your tits together, i’m gonna fuck them and cum all over your pretty face”

He climbed on the bed, straddling your lower torso as you found yourself pushing your breasts together. The click of a bottle of baby oil and it was being poured in the valley of your chest, before he settled his dick against the slick skin. He dropped the bottle and with a grunt pulled his hoodie over his head, revealing his glorious chest, covered in dark hair and thicker than you had realised. 

His dick was heavy against your chest as he took your hands in his and showed you how he wanted you to hold your titties for him, rocking his hips bath and forth as his hot flesh slipped through your soft pillows, the angry tip poking out at your neck with each thrust;

“So fucking pretty, gonna cum all over that face… you wanna taste my cum you little slut? Yeah? Cock hungry slut, can’t get enough of my dick, can you?”

You didn’t answer, the lust in his eyes making you drunk with desire, instead you tipped your head to your chest and opened your mouth, letting August’s dick slide into your mouth, the salty tang of his precum hitting your senses.

His thrusts were becoming rough and violent, his hips squeezing your ribcage as he fought back against the urge to cum, but you wanted it, needed it;

“August, will you cum on my face, pretty please?” you batted your eyelashes at him innocently and it was the final straw, and you watched as he threw his head back and thick ropes of his creamy seed spurted over your mouth and cheeks as he groaned so deliciously. On the last spurt you leaned forwards and took his tip into your mouth, gently laving your tongue over the leaking slit, before releasing him softly. August had eased his gasp on your tits, and using his thick finger he scooped the cum from your cheek;

“Open wide Princess”

Sticking your tongue out you sucked the bitter treat from his finger, before he repeated it with the other cheek. Finally swallowing you grinned at him;

“Thank you August”

His hand paused on your cheek, softly cupping it;

“Anything for you Princess… now scoot up the bed, i wanna eat that pussy again whilst i get you ready for my dick”

He swung his leg over so you could wriggle up the bed, and immediately he was laying between your legs, both of your thighs over his shoulders as he started to sloppily eat you out again, except this time his lubed fingers strayed to your asshole and he already had one knuckle deep in your back entrance. You were writhing against his tongue, and although not as accurate with his targets this time now that the alcohol in his system was taking hold, that wide tongue was driving you to heaven as his fingers pulled you down into the dark pits of depravity that hell could only contain. You were uttering almost incomprehensible gibberish, begging for more which he eagerly gave, a second and soon a third finger stretching your ass as he prepared you for what was yet to come. You came with a scream as his wide tongue tormented your pussy until you had to physically pull him by his curls to stop, breathless as you watched him kneel on the bed and grab the baby oil, pouring some onto his hand to lube his dick before smoothing a considerable amount over your asshole and lined up his now raging hard on with your stretched hole. He paused, looking down at you;

“Final chance to back out… do you want me to fuck your ass?”

“Yes… please August, i want your dick in my ass, i want you to cum in my ass, treat me like a dirty anal slut”

With a groan he pushed forwards, slowly breaching your body and you felt the uncomfortable stretch of having a dick slide into your ass. Even with the prep and the oil it still took a while for your body to relax enough for him to push in, but when he eventually was balls deep in your ass you felt so full you were sure you would burst;

“Oh my god… You’re so big…”

“Taking me like a champ Princess, even with the oil your ass is so fucking tight i’m struggling not to blow my load right here and now”

“Fuck my ass August, do it hard, i wanna feel it in the morning…”

With a roar he started to fuck into you, holding himself up on his massive arms as his hips pistoned into you, filling your barren depths as his pubic bone rubbed against your empty pussy and your juices flooded his crotch;

“So fucking wet Princess, leaking all down your ass, its only adding to the lube so i can fuck you harder. Your poor little battered asshole, you’re barely gonna be able to sit tomorrow… apart from back on my dick as we have breakfast, don’t think this is the only time i’m gonna fuck your ass, i’m gonna use this hole until you’re loose and stretched, so i can just bend you over and slide my dick into your ass. Gonna hide those stupid panties i bought you, i want you walking around bare, my cum dripping down your legs where there’s so much inside you, you can barely keep it inside… shame the gift shop didn’t sell plugs, i woulda’ filled you with my load and have you plugged and ready lubed for me to use whenever i pleased…”

August’s dirty talk had you cumming hard, squeezing him tight and yet he fucked you straight through it. Laying limp as he continued to fill your ass he slowed and moved, kneeling on the bed as he moved your legs from either side of his lips until both your feet were over one of his shoulders, pushing and pulling you until he had one arm firmly wrapped around your knees and he could fuck into your ass as he held you like a rag doll. The new position was tighter, deeper, and as you started to pant out with lust his free hand rested on your throat, squeezing carefully but firmly;

“Harder…” you panted out, your head swimming as your airway was restricted, and as he pounded into your ass you were both getting close.

“Gonna cum in your ass, fill you up with a massive load, you want that Princess?”

You tried to say yes, but all that came out was a tiny croak as his massive hand gripped your throat. Before you could even try again your orgasm hit, your eyes rolling back in their sockets as you squirted, your body gripping him so tight he reached his peak, pushing in as deep as he could as he pumped your ass full of his cum.

August released his grip on your neck, pulling out gently as he softly lay your legs on the bed;

“Did so well Princess, such a good little slut…”

You could only hum out a response, your mind as used as your body was.

-

You woke to the sound of soft rain falling against the window, peering out from beneath the duvet you could see that the grey light of morning was filling the room, the storm seemingly blown mostly through with just a persistent rain now dampening the earth. Shifting on the bed you winced, everything was sore, but especially your ass. But then a warm body pressed to your back, a large hand smoothed over your stomach and a familiar voice spoke softly in your ear as stubble brushed against your bare shoulders;

“Rise and shine…”

“Hmmmmm no, i don’t wanna get up” you grumbled

“But…”

“Noooo. If we get up then we’ve got to think about things going back to normal, i just wanna pretend i’m able to stay in a hotel as nice as this when i’m not trying to escape a dangerous gang… too many responsibilities, too much stress… i just want another half hour of being treated like a Princess” you grumbled.

A quiet chuckle came from behind you;

“There’s no reason why we can’t do this again”

Turning in his arms, you looked at August;

“How? You’re my superior Agent, the CIA pushes and pushes and pushes, I never get enough time off to do something like this, If i had known i was literally signing my life away i would never have signed up for the academy. What’s the fucking use of earning a good wage if i can never enjoy it… and its not even that good of a wage to be honest…” you paused and narrowed your gaze; “Have you showered?”

“Yes. And i have a proposition for you…”

“Keep talking…”

August started to move, slowly climbing between your legs and you felt his hard dick resting against your folds, your pussy instinctively growing wet, slowly rubbing against you as he smiled down at you;

“As a senior agent i get a considerably better wage than you do, but i don’t have anyone to share it with, anyone to treat like a Princess and spoil with gifts that they deserve… but i also want someone that will be agreeable to my darkest desires…” he rocked his hips back before slowly parting his thighs, and you felt the nudge of his tip at your soaked pussy; “... someone, a woman i can treat like a Princess but will let me fuck them like a whore… can i fuck your pussy like a whore?”

The gentle nudge of his dick just stretching the ring of muscle that granted access to the heaven between your legs had you begging, pleading to be August’s Whore. He let out a sigh of pleasure as he slowly sank into your pussy, bare and unprotected filling you with his virile shaft;

“You’re my Slutty Princess…taking my dick like a pro”

In that hotel room August Walker became your sugar Daddy, and over room service breakfast you agreed the details of your arrangement as you sat on his lap, his dick in your ass as he fed you strawberries, before he grew impatient and bounced you on his dick until he came in your barren depths. Resting back against his chest, his softening dick still inside you he played with your pussy as he discussed the next step, trying to decide if a trip to an adult store or a jewellery store should be the first stop after returning to DC;

“How about a jewelled plug?” you suggested; “That’s the best of both worlds”

Holding your jaw he turned your head so he could kiss you, pulling away and grinning;

“See, that’s why you’re the perfect Princess, smart and sexy…”

You felt him start to harden in your ass again, wriggling and letting out a giggle as you felt him stretch your insides;

“Over the table or out on the balcony in the rain?” you asked

“Oooh lets do the balcony… its check out time so a few other guests will be able to see my little slut have her battered asshole filled with another load”

There on the balcony that overlooked the serene mountains August filled your ass again, your naked bodies soaked with the rain as he gripped your breasts whilst he fucked you from behind. 

You couldn’t wait to be August’s play thing.

[javier-pena]

alone

Chapter 1 of The Hunt

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Rating: Mature (for now but that will - spoilers! - change eventually)

Summary: When your best friend and companion is abducted by a group of outlaws, you hire a Mandalorian to help track down the men and get your revenge. What seems like a simple enough task stretches into a month-long trek through inhospitable terrain while both you and the Mandalorian are trying to come to terms with events in your past you cannot change. Set after Season 2.

Warnings: mentions (and short descriptions) of death, murder, and torture | a lot of hurt and no comfort | mentions of loss | mild to moderate language | a lot - and I mean A LOT - of talk about Din’s hands lmao

Notes: This is my first attempt at a Mandalorian fic and the first time in months I’ve written anything. It’s vaguely inspired by my favorite western movies, True Grit (1969/2010), The Quick and the Dead (1995), and The World to Come (2020). So yes, this is going to be very much like a western. I also want to - again - thank Dani @javierpcna​ who was like “are you writing Mandalorian stuff?” about a month ago and has, since then, read through this chapter more often than me and encouraged me to continue to write it and offered so much valuable insight whenever I came to her with an idea ... seriously, Dani, this fic wouldn’t exist without you and I hope I can find a way to repay you! Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this first chapter (I’m already working on the second one) ...

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The day the Mandalorian arrives on Alvorine is the day you lose your best friend. You’re still busy putting out the fire, running your soot-blackened hand across your face, where the dirt mingles with the tears you’re too tired to stop from streaming down your face, when you hear the thrusters of a spacecraft roaring above you. You barely glance up; you can’t be bothered to. It could be the remnants of the Empire looking for recruits, it could be the New Republic looking for the remnants of the Empire, or it could be the bandits coming back for more. But what do you care? They already took away the one person you care most about in the galaxy. You just grip the shovel tighter and drive it into the soil so you can choke the fire underneath moist stones and dirt.

While you exhaust your body with physical labor, you occupy your mind with thoughts of revenge. Revenge as dark and quenching as the soil beneath you. With every load of dirt you heave onto the searing flames, your plan gains another sharp edge until all you can think of is driving the cutting edge down onto the throat of the man who gripped Brea’s arm and pulled her onto the speeder bike. Maybe his head would come off right away, maybe your tool would just obstruct his windpipe as you watch the life drain slowly out of his eyes. And even that would be too good an end for that monster.

It’s not just in your mind – those thoughts aren’t simply there to ground you while you continue your work in the ruins of what was once your home. It’s not pure fantasy, something to give you back a feeling of control. You are determined to follow through on it; you are going to hunt down these men who burned down your farm and stole Brea from you. You will not rest until they are all dead by your hand. And if you should die in the process … then you won’t go out without a fight, without taking as many of those bastards with you as you can. They have sealed their own fate by coming here today.

You know Brea isn’t dead; they won’t kill her unless she tries to kill one of them first. And she wouldn’t do that, she is too gentle for that, too docile. She would rather turn the other cheek. They should have taken you instead; she doesn’t deserve the fate that awaits her. You would’ve at least put up a fight, make them pay for what they did. And Brea? She would just die.

For now, she’s alive. But whatever you set out to do once you’re done here won’t be a rescue mission. You aren’t under the illusion you can save her. You know that even if you were to leave right now, even if you had your own speeder bike, you would never find her in time. No, this possibility hasn’t even crossed your mind. All you want to do is cause these men more pain than they caused you. You know it is impossible because you cannot imagine anything worse, but you sure as hell will do your best.

You straighten your back, drive the shovel into the ground, and use it as support while you try to catch your breath. The air burns in your lungs, and not just from the cold. There is also the steadily rising black smoke that makes breathing hard; your throat stings, so do your sides, and there is a bitter taste in your mouth. But you’re almost finished here, you’re almost done putting out the fire, so it won’t endanger the surrounding forest. And with every flame you bury, you also bury a piece of your soul until you feel like there is nothing left that makes you human, until all the pain and despair you’re feeling since listening to Brea’s screams grow quieter and quieter until they were swallowed up by silence has turned into a cold, brazen cry for revenge. But you’re glad this has made you less forgiving, less kind, less … human. Those things would only get in the way of the task ahead of you.

As the last flames go out with a wet hiss, one of Alvorine’s three blue white suns vanishes behind the treetops. You know the other two will be quick to follow. And you don’t have anywhere to spend the night. You wouldn’t mind sleeping with your back propped against a tree. You’ve done it often enough. But it’s winter, and the air is already cold and will be even colder once the other two suns set too. And you just lost every blanket, every single piece of fabric that could keep you warm in a small inferno. You know this is just an excuse, a comforting lie you tell yourself. The truth is you cannot spend a minute longer on this clearing, even if that means you have to walk the four miles to the next settlement. You’re so exhausted you cannot feel your legs, but you don’t care. Anything is better than spending the night here, even collapsing in the middle of the dark forest.

You leave the shovel where you stand and walk to the edge of the clearing, swallowing around the lump in your throat, trying to hold down more tears that are threatening to spill over and down your cheeks. Once you reach the edge of the forest, where the air is a bit clearer, you take a deep breath and turn around to look at the ruins of your home, now nothing more than a black pile of rubble. You have nothing, nothing but the clothes you’re wearing, not even a small trinket to remind you of Brea and the many happy hours you spent here tending to your fields, sweeping the front porch or sitting around the fireplace sharing supper. Even remembering how you worked on menial chores now feels like the most precious memory, one you will hold onto until your last breath. Because even though they have taken everything from you, they can’t take away the memory of Brea’s laugh.

***

They stare at you as you enter the inn. They stare and then look away. They can’t bear your presence because it reminds them of their own guilt. Not one of them came to your aid this morning, not one of them came afterwards to offer help. And you ignore them too because there is nothing left to say. All you want is some food and a dry place to sleep before you turn your back on them forever.

You sit down at a small table in a dark corner. The patrons around you either turn their backs to you or stand up to move their meals and conversations someplace else. It’s as if you’ve been marked. If you had any strength left in you, you would call them out on their behavior. Shit, you would wreak havoc, and only stop when the last one of them is on their knees begging for forgiveness. But you’re glad you’re too exhausted because your sudden hatred for everyone and everything scares you. The villagers don’t deserve to fall victim to your rage. There is nothing they could’ve done. They are just as defenseless and helpless as you. Would you have come to their aid if your positions were reversed? You would like to think so, but just because it gives you a false sense of moral superiority. Deep down you know the truth. Deep down you know you would hide too, praying that you would be spared.

As you dig into your bowl of soup, you realize how hungry you are. Even though everything tastes like ash in your mouth, your stomach is glad to have something to clench around when your thoughts stray to this morning’s events again. And you know there’s no need to punish yourself by refusing your body the nourishment it needs. The opposite, in fact – you know you’ll need all the strength you can get if you’re really going after them.

As you swallow one ashy bite after the other, you let your eyes wander around the room, looking for something that will distract you from your thoughts and your feelings of guilt. Everyone avoids your gaze; everyone acts as if your corner is empty. Everyone … except one stranger.

He sits in a booth close to the bar, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze on you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you – he’s wearing a helmet that covers his entire head, the kind you’ve seen twice before in this corner of the galaxy. He’s a Mandalorian, a bounty hunter, and his presence here doesn’t really surprise you. Even though actually seeing one is a rare occurrence, stories about them are countless.

Alvorine is a planet without laws, a planet that lives by its own rules, so many criminals decide to hide out here while they wait for their crimes to be forgotten. There is no military presence on the planet, no judicial system, no one to catch and punish the wrongdoers. The planet follows the rules of whoever is in charge, which changes frequently, but none of the powerful people have enough resources to enforce those rules anyway. Disputes are often just settled by the parties involved in whatever way they see fit. Only the Mandalorians, who are hired by people on other worlds, by people who have never experienced what it is like to live on Alovrine, are brave enough to get involved in those disputes. You have to admit you do feel a tiny bit curious as to why that particular Mandalorian is here ... who hired him? And who is he hunting?

You tentatively let your gaze wander over his stoic body, over the beskar covering his arms and chest, over the bandolier wrapped around his upper body, over the visor hiding his eyes. If you had one like him on your side, you wouldn’t need to worry about getting your revenge. He would catch those men in the blink of an eye. And if you paid him enough, he would do to them whatever you wanted.

He would cut off their limbs but keep them alive long enough to feel it.

He would make them run for it, give them the illusion of hope, only to crush it like their bones.

He would let you watch, let you choose whatever punishment you saw fit.

You shift in your seat because you can almost smell the blood, you can hear a faint echo of their screams, and it makes you feel light-headed and nauseous, but also elevates you, lifts a weight off your shoulders, even if just for a brief moment.

But he’s not here to do your bidding. And when you lift your head again, he’s gone.

You finish your bowl of soup and then decide to rent a room upstairs for the night. You don’t have a place to stay anymore and it’s too dangerous to start your pursuit while it’s dark. The forest belongs to dangerous creatures during the night, more dangerous than any man out there. And you’re planning on staying alive for just a little while longer.

You stretch and yawn and move to get up when your path is suddenly blocked. It happens so fast you don’t register anything at first apart from the cold, hard beskar chest plate that is level with your face. Its unexpected appearance makes you lose your balance and you fall back down onto the bench you’ve been sitting on. The Mandalorian extends his hand, his fingers closing around thin air. It’s a half-hearted attempt to stop your fall, and it comes too late – your backside has already painfully collided with the hard wood.

“May I join you?” His voice sounds distorted through the modulator in his helmet. He sounds like a machine, not like a being with a heartbeat.

You want to tell him no, want to tell him to fuck off, but for tonight you have no fight left in you. So you nod.

He sits down and you expect to hear the clink of his armor, expect to feel a tremor when his heavy body comes to rest on a stool opposite you. But there is no sound, no movement, and the lack makes you sit up straighter. This isn’t just another cowardly villager you can get rid of by glaring at him … this is an apex predator.

You swallow with some difficulty. “Can I help you?” you ask, your voice level, your eyes resting on his glove-clad hands lying on the table. You figure you’re safe as long as you can see them.

At first, he doesn’t say anything. He just looks at you. Or at least you think he’s looking at you. You cannot see his eyes behind the tinted visor. No matter how uncomfortable the situation makes you feel, you try not to move … you try not to show any sign of weakness, to give him any excuse to lunge across the table and strangle you.

Finally, he answers. “I’m looking for work.”

Now you cannot help but move. You exhale sharply, and with that release of breath comes a release of tension as you slump backwards, your back hitting the wall behind you. You cross your arms over your chest. “I can’t help you,” you say. You don’t have any work to offer him, no work worthy of the skills of a Mandalorian who usually hunts down important people, kings, merchants, people who influence the course of the galaxy’s history. Following a few lowly bandits is not the work he’s used to. You don’t even want to tell him about it because you know he’d take it as an insult. And even if - by some miracle - your quest for revenge would be deemed a worthy cause in the eyes of the Mandalorian, you couldn’t afford his services.

The slightest movement of his helmet is the only reaction your answer gets out of him. Whether he shifts because he’s surprised or because he’s angry, or whether his scalp itches under the metal you cannot tell.

Still, you feel the need to explain yourself. “I’m sorry, I don’t have any money.”

Shit, that’s the wrong thing to say. It implies you have work for him, but that you’re too poor to pay him. For all you know, this could be a grave insult in Mandalorian society.

His fingers on the table clench around thin air again. “What can you offer?” he asks.

He doesn’t want to know about the job, the quarry as you know they call it. No, he just wants to know how much he can earn.

“240 credits,” you answer. It’s all you have. You won’t need it anymore.

He tilts his head and you expect him to refuse, but then he says, “That’s enough.”

You’re taken aback, surprised. He’s caught you off-guard. You were fully prepared to see him walk away at hearing the ridiculously low amount of money you just offered. “You don’t even know what the job is,” you protest. The last thing you need is a Mandalorian hunting you down because you’re not paying him enough.

“They told me,” he says with a nod behind him.

You follow the movement with your eyes and see heads whip to the side, gazes wandering downwards, you notice conversations being picked up again. White hot fury fills you, more powerful than the flames that destroyed your house.

“They had no right,” you press out through clenched teeth.

The Mandalorian doesn’t say anything. He sits still like a statue, unwavering, as you fight a small battle with yourself. You should leave without looking back. Messing with a Mandalorian is even more dangerous than the task ahead of you. But he’s offering you something invaluable, something no amount of credits can get you: a chance. If you go alone, you’ll be dead in about a week. There’s no use pretending you’ll get out of it alive. But if you accept the Mandalorian’s help – his services, you have to remind yourself – you might make it through two. You might get to see your dreams of revenge become reality.

You sigh deeply as a heavy weariness settles over you. You’re exhausted, and now that all the adrenaline has left your body, you can feel all the small cuts and bruises today’s labors have left behind. And you feel empty … cold and empty, and utterly alone.

The Mandalorian still doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t defend the villagers, he doesn’t tell you what he knows about you or the job, he doesn’t try to persuade you to take him up on his offer, nor does he walk away from it. He just sits there and waits for you to make up your mind, as if it’s all the same to him. And it probably is. Either he goes with you and earns some money, or he doesn’t and looks for work elsewhere. He is completely detached from the whole affair. There is no emotional investment, just a job that needs to be done.

He doesn’t care if you live or die, he just cares if you pay him or not.

This realization is what finally helps you make up your mind. “I want to hire you,” you say, your tongue heavy in your mouth. All you really want is to sleep.

There is no reaction for the longest time but then the Mandalorian nods. You’re not sure if you’re supposed to say something, give him details or explain the specifics of the job to him. But before you can decide what to say next, he stands abruptly.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he says before turning around.

Your brain needs a moment to catch up but when it does, you’re already on your feet. “Wait,” you say, and to your surprise the broad, steel-clad man listens to you.

He doesn’t face you, but he stops.

You briefly consider asking him if you can accompany him, but you don’t. You don’t have to ask, you get to decide.

“I’m coming with you,” you tell him.

You tell a stranger, a dangerous one at that, one who makes his money by making other people’s lives a living hell, that you will travel with him through dark, deserted forests where no one will stop him from taking what he wants from you instead of earning it, where no one will come to your aid should he not honor the deal you apparently just made with him. And you don’t care. Because no matter what he will do to you, it can’t be worse than what has already been done.

But all your worries and fears focus in on just one tiny aspect of this whole, fucked-up situation when he says, “I work alone.”

You don’t want to negotiate. This shouldn’t even be up for debate. You’re his employer now, you get to decide how things are done. But if you insist on this, he could just walk away from you. And you cannot let that happen now that you’ve had an idea of what it would be like to have a Mandalorian on your side.

“We’re not a team,” you say. “Think of me as an interested party. As someone who is fascinated by your work.”

You’re not sure if that is the right thing to say. His shoulders move, but he still doesn’t turn around. When he speaks again, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

“I work alone or not at all.”

You don’t want to accept that. You want to be there when those men are punished for what they did. You don’t want to wait around for the Mandalorian to come back, not when you don’t have anywhere to wait around in. You’ve lost everything. Had he talked to the villagers as he claims, he would know this. Or maybe he does. Maybe he knows you lost your home today but doesn’t care. He doesn’t even know the definition of the word home. It means nothing to him.

You take a deep breath. “Then I won’t be needing your services.”

This finally makes him turn around. Everything in you screams for you to take a few steps back, to put yourself out of his reach. You can feel the atmosphere between you shift – he draws back his shoulders, makes himself even taller than he already is. And you know, you just know, that refusing his offer, that backtracking on your agreement is the worst mistake you made tonight.

You’re pretty sure that not honoring a deal is the worst insult to a Mandalorian.

“Going alone will be your death,” he says when you cannot bear the tension a second longer.

“What’s it to you?”

The words are out. They are a challenge, one you didn’t mean to make, one you shouldn’t have made, but it’s done now. Your hand begins to tremble, and your feet grow cold with fear as you prepare yourself for his reaction. You don’t know if he will hit you, tie you up, torture you, or just kill you on the spot. He could do all of these things without having to fear any repercussions. You curse yourself for not having been more careful, for making this fatal mistake, because now Brea will go unavenged. Just because you couldn’t keep your damn mouth shut, just because you’re stubborn and hot-headed and oh so stupid.

But to your surprise, the Mandalorian shrugs. He lifts his broad shoulders, then lowers them again as your eyes follow the movement. But he’s not giving you anything more: He doesn’t insist on going alone, he doesn’t turn around and leave, he just keeps standing opposite you, motionless, emotionless, until you’re convinced you imagined the shrug.

So you decide to make the next move by removing yourself from this situation before he changes his mind and drags you back to his ship to do whatever he wants to you. You take a deep breath and start to step around him, a movement that is almost impossible to complete in this small space you’re both in. But you attempt it, nevertheless. When you’re level with him, doing your best not to brush up against him so you won’t enrage him, you hear his voice. It’s just one sentence, four words, but for some reason it sounds so much more human than it did when he was opposite you. Maybe it has something to do with the distance between his helmet and your ear, maybe it’s the angle from which the sounds hit your eardrums or maybe it’s because you feel light-headed, dizzy with the realization he hasn’t killed you yet and probably won’t.

He says, “Have it your way.”

You stop right next to him, staring ahead at a group of three men who do their best not to look at you. But you don’t see them anyway. In fact, you don’t see anything at all because the rushing sound in your ears drowns out everything else, even other senses.

“You can come with me,” he says, and it’s the first time he has spoken two sentences in a row. “But you do as I say.” Three. “If I tell you to run, you run.” Four. “If I tell you to get out of the way, you do so.” Five. “And if I tell you to kill, you kill.” Six.

Then nothing, just the faint sound of his deep breaths through the modulator.

Your thoughts are racing, tripping over their own feet like children running down a hill, and they’re unbearably loud. Everything is loud suddenly, from the sound of the barkeep filling a glass to the way that woman over there is chewing her food. The only thing that’s quiet is the last one you would have suspected to be so: the Mandalorian. Now he is waiting for you to say something and as he does, he balls his hand into a fist and then releases the tension again, over and over like a nervous tic, like he needs an outlet for the tension in his body, the tension you have no idea he is feeling until you see his arm flex beneath the fabric covering it.

But, once more, you’re at war with yourself. You don’t know what to tell him. There is still that shimmer of hope on the horizon, the light that makes you believe you stand a chance if you bring him along. But his terms … you’re not sure if you can accept them. He doesn’t know Alvorine or the men you would be hunting half as well as you do. And you’ve never been one for following orders. So if you feel that his assessment of a situation is wrong, you’re not sure you’ll be able to run just because he tells you to.

You have a feeling that defying his orders would be the most dangerous thing you could ever do, even more dangerous than hunting down a group of ruthless bandits who like to torture and kill for fun.

“All right,” you say finally.

His fist unclenches one last time and he exhales slowly.

“But when we find them,” you swallow hard, once, but your mouth is completely dry, “I get to decide what happens to them.”

The Mandalorian turns toward you so abruptly that you almost lose your balance. You lean back and hit your elbow on the wall behind you. The pain makes you curse under your breath.

“Agreed,” he whispers. He sounds like a machine again, as if everything that makes him human is shut away beneath that cold, hard, invaluable beskar steel. You too feel cold suddenly, cold and afraid. “But until then you do as I say. Understood?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. He is too close to you, and drowns out everything else, even the sounds that you considered to be too loud mere seconds ago. If he wouldn’t be wearing a helmet, you would be able to feel his breath on your cheek. He takes up your field of vision almost entirely. You’ve never felt more on display, and yet more hidden. And you know that if you say the wrong thing now, it will have terrible consequences.

So you just nod again.

“We leave in the morning,” he tells you, then turns around suddenly and leaves, his cape trailing behind him.

All sounds come rushing back at once, as if you’ve just emerged out of a pool of water. You release your breath quickly, only now realizing you’ve been holding it. Then you slump back against the wall, a shaking, quivering mess.

***

tag list: @bella-ciao​, @filthybookworm​, @frannyzooey​, @khalysa​, @leannawithacapitala​, @mothandpidgeon​, @mrsparknuts​, @mxsamwilson​, @piscespussybabe​, @something-tofightfor​

[tricksters-captain]

Benedict Bridgerton / Anthony Bridgerton Imagines - Best Man Wins Part 2

AN: Am I going to hurt myself with this fic? Yes.

(🎶🎶🎶) = Link to song

Overall Summary:  Entering a society you thought you had left behind, you find yourself in a tricky triangle with two gentleman you never thought you’d fall for.

PART ONE HERE

This Chapter: The courting starts...

Pairing(s): Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader, Benedict Bridgerton x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,752

Warnings: None

Dear readers, it was a surprise to see a face we’d long forgot about make her debut at last nights dashing ball at Danbury house. 

Miss (Y/n) (Y/l/n) shook the social season within the first night by making her first appearance in almost 11 years. Word is that Lady (Y/l/n) remarried Lord Winslow and this has sparked her only daughters debut into society. After spending the previous 11 years off the coast of Kent, doing whatever it is widows do, Lady Winslow met Lord Winslow after a foolish incident left Lady Winslow in a ditch. Fortunate for her Lord Winslow passed by in his carriage and swept the widow off her feet. 

However, Miss (Y/l/n)’s appearance wasn’t the only surprising event last night but the fact the young girl had secured the attention of not one but two Bridgerton Bachelors. Bear in mind that the youngest Bachelor, Colin Bridgerton, is currently off travelling Europe and so didn’t have the chance for his head to be turned by our fresh faced debutant. 

Will Miss (Y/l/n) receive the pleasure of a call from the two well sought after gentleman? We will only find out over the coming days, dear readers. 

“Mama?” You entered the breakfast room with Lady Whistledown’s paper in your hand. 

Your mother was sat at the head of the table with a bowl of fresh fruit and a pot of tea. 

Lord Winslow had been called out to his estate in the country for an emergency just as you had returned last night with your mother. He said he would only be gone a couple days but it had not even been 12 hours and your mother already looked lonely as ever. 

You were lucky that Lord Winslow was a kind man. He really did love your mother and your mother loved him. Your mother had never loved your father, that you knew for certain and so it was wonderful to see your mother so happy with Lord Winslow. 

You knew he didn’t particularly like you but he was a kind and fair man who had paid for all of your new clothes, shoes and settled you with a fair sum of a dowery. 

“Mama, have you seen this?” You handed her the paper. “Lady Whistledown has dedicated a whole page just to us. She’s gone from reminding everyone of father’s scandal to how you met Lord Winslow and reporting of my arrival at the ball last night.”

Your mother picked up the paper and started to read it. 

You sat beside her at the breakfast table and thanked the servants for bringing you over some hot oats. You sprinkled some fruit on top before pouring yourself an orange juice, all the while, your mother read. 

“Of course she should mention the Bridgerton men. If you could catch one of them then I'd never have to worry about funds ever again.” Your mother put the paper down and took another sip of her tea. 

“Mother, you have Lord Winslow who will always make sure you live comfortably. You don’t need me to go off and marry some Baron––”

“––But a viscount would be nice.” You mother quickly added. 

“The Viscount Bridgerton is very well known for being a rake. I doubt he’ll be proposing anytime soon to anyone. I’m sure he only danced with me last night because his mother probably asked as she did recognise me.” You dismissed your mothers high hopes. 

“Ah yes. Violet told me that she had invited you for tea. She invited me over, of course, but I’d rather not be too social this season with everyone asking questions about our situation before Lord Winslow.” 

Your mother hadn’t worked before she met Lord Winslow. You brought in any extra funds by being a lady’s companion and your mother budgeted as she could the small amount of money her brother in law had given you both after the death of his brother/your father. 

Your mother had never been the most friendly socialite of the ton even before your father’s death. More often than not she rejected invitations for tea or musicales and only showed up to the larger events the ton threw. 

Your mother wasn’t particular friendly to anyone except Lord Winslow. Even you had a strange relationship. 

Your mother was one of the eldest Mama’s amongst the girls your age. She had struggled to produce children for years and then eventually she stopped trying until one day on one anniversary she fell pregnant and it held. 

She had prayed for a son to give your father an heir but she was blessed with you instead. 

She had never been cruel or negligent but she never had that particular spark for maternal love. 

Your father loved gambling more than he loved anyone or anything so paternal love was something you lacked during your childhood. 

Nonetheless, you were glad your mother was happy now. 

“There’s gifts for you in the drawing room before I forget to tell you.” 

“Gifts?” You felt your heart flutter in excitement and before your mother could say anymore, you were already rushing to the drawing room. 

You opened the door to see the room full of flowers. 

Roses, hyacinths, camellias, carnations, peonies, sweet peas.... and more. 

“My goodness.” You barely breathed the words as your hand shot to your mouth in delight. 

“They’ve all come for you this morning, Miss.” Lottie, your lady’s maid, beamed at you. 

“There’s so many.” You whispered to her with a bright smile. 

“Lady Whistledown did name you the seasons incomparable, Miss!” Lottie reminded you. It was something you didn’t say aloud to your mother but Whistledown did write that after mentioning the Bridgerton brothers. 

“May I be left to myself, Lottie, so I can read the notes.” You asked her politely to which she replied with a smile and a servants nod. 

“I already told cook to prepare some biscuits but would you like anything else before I go?” Lottie asked. 

“Biscuits?” You furrowed your eyebrows at the maid. 

“For your callers.” Lottie blushed a little as she smiled at you.

“Callers! I’d forgotten! Oh Lottie, I need you to run upstairs and get my pearl earrings instead of these and I’d love some tea as well.” You had a sudden panic to want to look perfect. Lottie took the earrings you had taken out and bowed out of the room at your request. 

You started around the room, smiling at each cheesy note from different suitors. Some you had danced with last night but most you hadn’t even spoken to. 

You stopped when you spotted a beautiful bouquet of white roses with several pickings of wisteria. 

‘You used to love the flowers at the front of the horse in spring time. I had to include them to remind you. 

Yours, Benedict.’ 

You cradled the purple flower in your hand and breathed in the scent of the roses and wisteria. 

You had no idea Benedict knew of that. 

Lottie returned with your earrings and your tea. 

“That’s a lovely bunch, Miss.” Lottie commented as you stood beside Benedict’s bouquet. 

“Isn’t it?” You found yourself wishing to visit the house sooner than later but you knew you’d probably have callers and your trip would have to wait. 

Your mother soon retired to the drawing room to act as chaperone as she expected callers sooner than later. 

She scolded you for taking too long to read the notes on the flowers and soon you found yourself sat on the settee with a book of poetry and your embroidery beside you in case your mother looked up from her own stitch work. 

It wasn’t long until the first caller arrived. 

And then another. 

And another. 

Your whole morning was filled with short meetings of many suitors. More than you had expected. 

The flower collection grew as more suitors came with their own bouquets rather than deliveries. 

There was chocolates from Belgium and macaroons from France. 

Your mother seemed happy with some of the more wealthy men and slightly less welcoming with the less fortunate. Her side glances to you said more than words ever could. 

The morning all together was exhausting.... But no Bridgertons...

“Where are you off to?” Violet peered up from her cup of tea as she caught Anthony passing the door. 

“Is it really any of your business mother?” Anthony questioned as he took several steps back so he was in the doorway. A bouquet of flowers hidden behind his back.

“If it’s off to see Miss (Y/l/n), I’d hold off.” Violet’s eyes met her sons and he could sense a fraction of worry there. “Your brother just left to do the same thing.” 

“Benedict.” Anthony didn’t question whether it was Benedict but rather stated his name in a knowing voice. 

“Miss (Y/l/n) may be new to society but she isn’t some play doll for the men of the ton to use and set aside like her mother had been.” Violet couldn’t help but feel an anger grow inside of her. She had cared for the girl when she was at a young age and she felt a sudden protectiveness grow over her now. 

“I do not intend to corrupt her if that’s what you think, Mother.” Anthony said flatly. Slightly hurt that his mother had insinuated it. 

“Then what do you intend to do? Marry her?” Violet’s question lingered in the air as Anthony clenched his jaw. 

Anthony didn’t really know why he was going to call on the girl. Was he really. interested in courting her or did he just want to be near her for some reason?

“Good afternoon, Mother.” Anthony excused himself and left Bridgerton house.

He decided to walk so that he would miss Benedict by the time he’d arrive if he took the long route through the park. It was a sunny day after all. 

“Mr Bridgerton to see Miss (Y/l/n).” The butler, Killian, had announced. 

You rose from your seat and smiled politely as you watched Benedict enter behind him. 

“Miss (Y/l/n).” Benedict took hold of your fingers and brushed a light kiss on top. “You look lovely this morning.” 

“Thank you, Lord Bridgeton.” You greeted him back with a short curtsy. “I also must thank you for your bouquet!” You suddenly remember, walking over to them and lightly brushing your fingers under the wisteria. 

“Mothers tip if I’m being honest.” Benedict told you as he held his hands behind   his back. 

You looked up at the man with bright eyes that he couldn’t help but look back into. 

“Please tell Lady Bridgerton I will be round for tea as soon as possible.” You pushed down your excitement to remain as ladylike as you could. 

“I’m sure Daphne will be glad to see you looking so well too.” Benedict let his eyes drop down your dress momentarily. You caught him doing so and felt your cheeks go pink under his gaze. 

“I am looking forward to seeing my old playmate.” You spoke, hoping your voce wouldn't fail you and crack. 

“I was hoping, Miss (Y/l/n), if you would do me the honour in promenading with me tomorrow morning through Hyde park?” Benedict inquired with hopeful eyes. 

You looked back to your Mama who nodded in reply. 

“Yes, that would be very agreeable.” You couldn’t help but let your smile grow when Benedict’s lips spread into one of his lopsided grins.

“I am looking forward to it.” Benedict took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips once again. 

However, this time, his lips lingered on the fabric of your glove. His eyes meeting yours as they did. 

You hadn’t noticed you’d stopped breathing until the man lowered your hand. 

“If you will excuse us, Mr Bridgerton but I have some business to take care of this afternoon so I’m afraid this call will have to come to a close until tomorrow.” Your mother stood and held her hand out towards the door. 

“It’s been a pleasure, Lady Winslow. Miss (Y/l/n).” Benedict bid himself adieu leaving you and your mother alone. 

“If anyone callers arrive then do not grant them access until I am back.” Your mother left the room, assumably to use the chamberpot with the amount of tea she’d been drinking that morning. 

You wrapped your arms around yourself as you looked down at Benedict’s flowers once more. 

You felt yourself yawn as you suddenly realised just how tired you were. 

“Being the most desired girl in the ton can be exhausting, can’t it, Miss (Y/l/n)?” A familiar voice startled you as someone entered without being announced. 

“Lord Bridgerton!” You clutched your chest as you caught your breath. 

“Miss (Y/l/n).” Anthony smirked. 

“How did you get in?” You asked, looking past him to where Killian should have been standing. 

“Your butler answered the door and then there was a crashing noice and he pointed me to this door and so here I am.” He explained, opening his arms to show himself. 

That’s when you noticed the bouquet. Not one. But two. 

“Here, there are for you and your mother.” Anthony offered you the bouquet as he watched you spot them. 

“We shouldn’t be here unchaperoned.” You suddenly felt panicked for some reason. 

“The door is open. I’m sure your mama won’t be long.” Anthony took a deeper step into the room and place the bouquets on the table. 

“They’re beautiful. Thank you.” You examined them from a careful distance. 

“I believe I saw my brother leaving here from up the street.” Anthony told you as he placed his hands behind his back. 

“Ah.” You nodded, “Yes, he was here but moments ago.” 

Anthony cocked his eyebrow with an amused look on his face. 

“We were just talking about your mother and your sister. Your mother has invited me for tea and I told Benedict to tell your mother that I’ll be round to see her as soon as I can.” You found yourself rambling. 

“You are welcome in Bridgerton house any time.” Anthony extended the invitation as the Viscount. 

“Thank you.” You nodded politely. “So what has brought you to visit me today?”

It was a stupid question but anything to fill the silence.

“Well after tonight, I rather felt like seeing you again.” Anthony rocked on his heels as he spoke, scrunching his face as if he’d just thought of it. 

He was teasing you and you knew it. 

“Is that so?” You tilted your head up slightly with a smile. “It’s not often, I hear, that Anthony Bridgerton visits any lady of respectability after spending the night with her.” The words had come out before you could stop them and Anthony found himself laughing as you tried not to blush. 

“That is where you are wrong. I do not spend my nights with any respectable ladies.” Anthony knew you were playing a game. He would never had responded this way unless he wanted to push your buttons. 

“Ah yes. Opera singers, actresses and such, isn’t it? At least that’s what I hear from Whistledown nowadays.” You thought yourself cheeky. 

“So you believe everything Whistledown writes?” Anthony asked, stepping closer to you again. 

“Everything she has written so far has been correct.” You defended your answer. 

“From the look of this room, I fear she may be correct about one thing at least.”Anthony gestured to all the flowers. 

“And that is?” You followed his gesture. 

“That you are the seasons incomparable. Perhaps the incomparable of any season thus.” Anthony’s compliment made you catch your breath in your throat. 

“Ah! Mr Bridgerton. I hope I hadn't left you waiting too long.” Your mother interrupted at just the right time. 

“Unfortunately, Mrs Winslow, I must be off now. I only came by to give these to Miss (Y/l/n) and yourself.” Anthony picked up the bouquet and handed to your mother before allowing himself to approach you. 

Your eyes met his as he handed you the flowers. 

His finger touched your own as he passed the bouquet over and you broke eye contact to retreat slightly. Not that your mother had noticed. 

“Good afternoon, Mr Bridgerton.” You said quickly. 

“Good afternoon, Miss (y/l/n).” Anthony kissed your hand like he had before as has his brother. 

And then he left. 

(PART 3 HERE)

[rikalovesrice]

My Thoughts on Trollhunters : Rise of the Titans

WARNING : ALL THE SPOILERS IN THIS REVIEW

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Mmmmm. Okay. So I just finished the movie. I’m fatigued as always so this’ll be a bit of a mess lol. Gotta spew the thoughts while they’re still fresh, y’all know how it is.

Right out the gate, I definitely want to talk about the things I loved.

The animation was, of course, phenomenal and gorgeous!

Voice acting was incredible as always

MUSIC SLAPPED

Douxie. I just loved seeing Douxie again and honestly kept my eyes trained on him for most the of movie lol

OK DOUXIE AND NARI SWITCHING?? BODIES??? Definitely didn’t see that coming and I legit started screaming lol

Nari in Douxie’s body is the most precious, chaotic, and wholesome thing like holy cow that was so adorable LOOKIT DOUXIE CROUCHING AND CRAWLING AROUND ON ALL FOURS WITH THOSE NOODLE LIMBS OF HIS I CAN’T --

We called Nari’s mind control and Douxie trying to reason with her!

In the very few scenes they were together, Douxie’s love and affection for Nari really came through. You could really feel how much he cared about her. ALSO THAT TENDER HUG AND NARI’S LITTLE HAPPY SQUEAK MY HEART NO--

Loved Barbara. Always love Barbara.

Walter and Barbara getting engaged

Nomura back in action

Claire being the powerful sorceress she’s become

Loved seeing Aja, Krel, and Varvatos all together again.

NARI VS SKRAEL WAS ALL SORTS OF EPIC AND CRUSHING EMOTIONS.

The way Douxie yelled Nari’s name and ran to her after she died and the remnants of her magic falling all around him, like she was saying goodbye, just *UGLY CRYING*

It was so cool to see Charlie out of his den and flying about like the mighty dragon he is

Loved the Guardians of Arcadia pulling Excaliber out together.

All the gang all going after Bellroc together

YES JIM MY BOOOOOOY

BLINKY DIDN’T DIE

Aarrgh I love you so much

Stuart, what a bro!

We saw a hint of mercy in Bellroc towards the end.

Toby’s death... That was a huge curveball. Jim might as well have cut my heart out with Excaliber as he sobbed over his best friend.

Uh.....um....and.....Er...what else........ .___.

..........Alright so.......It’s about to get a bit brutal from here on out as I talk about the things I didn’t like at all. And the really sad thing is, at least to me, the cons far outweigh the pros in this movie. Because I’m actually having difficulty picking out things I enjoyed, they were so few and far between...which really sucks.

So here we go.

Gosh, where to begin... I guess I’ll go ahead and say this : I’m really disappointed. 

Like as I’m here typing this, I’m just thinking, “...That was it? That was the movie?? The big finale???”

So much of this movie just felt....unnecessary. I hate to say almost like filler. The entire intro re-caping the series really wasn’t needed. And then Toby went and restated it all again when he was being interrogated. The pacing, oh my gosh...Guys, the pacing in this movie was not good. The action started and it never seemed to stop. There wasn’t a single moment of rest, of levity, of our characters just being themselves, getting to know each other, being friends outside of the battle. No Reckless Club Segment. No fun, just... I mean Claire and Aja didn’t speak to each other at all. Douxie and Toby hardly interacted. Steve was turned into a gross male pregnancy joke. Jim and Krel barely spoke. Douxie and Aja had nothing to say to each other. Even Aja and Krel didn’t have any moments together. The list goes on. The whole movie was just go, go, go. And it’s so frustrating because there was time for it but it was poorly executed.

Like was the whole break-in to the Chinese Trollmarket really necessary?? Guys, I really found myself not caring. I didn’t care to see this random side quest involving an insignificant new troll character and a Trollmarket that had little to no bearing on the plot. Did I love seeing Charlie, Archie, Blinky, and Claire? Of course! But these scenes were so pointless. So needless. They could’ve written other ways for all our heroes to go after the chronosphere (Maybe we could’ve had Zoe for crying out loud). But instead this vital artifact was the hands of a character we don’t know and don’t care about in a place that turned out to have basically nothing to do with anything.

Deaths. The deaths in this movie. Because of the pacing in this movie, there wasn’t nearly enough time for the emotional impacts to sink in. Nomura? Gone and the only ones mourning her are Aaarrgh and Douxie, who barely knew her. Walter’s death was handled better since we got to see Jim and Barbara actually having a moment to mourn him. The weight of Nari’s death was singlehandedly carried by Douxie, but even that was over before it started. The immense gravity of Toby’s death, which really got to me, was also short-lived to make way for an ending that...I don’t know. 

ALSO DOUXIE JUST??? BEING OKAY WITH HIS FAMILIAR, THE ONE WHO RAISED HIM AND WENT THROUGH SO MUCH WITH HIM FOR CENTURIES, LEAVING HIM FOREVER TO BE TRAPPED IN THAT DUMB TROLLMARKET WITH CHARLIE LIKE???

“I hope he’s happy.”

WHAT. THE. EVERLASTING. FRICK. 

Douxie’s reaction objectively doesn’t make a shred of sense. Geez, it’s almost like Douxie was expecting Archie to up and leave him someday to be with Charlegmane. Just...what???

What also frustrates me so much is how this movie undid so much characterization and development that happened in Wizards. Or more like all that development didn’t even matter.

What was the point of Steve’s arc in Wizards if he was just going to be reduced to...this?

I was so excited to see Douxie really being a Master Wizard. To see him lead the Guardians of Arcadia alongside Jim. To see him in action as Successor to Merlin and Protector of this Realm.

But no.

Douxie, who had such an incredible arc in Wizards and a character who’s come to mean so much to me in my life, was nerfed and sidelined.

And then time restarts and I can’t help but wonder why any of this mattered at all. What the heck was the freaking point of the suffering, the loss, the pain, the growth, enduring and overcoming so much, the friendships and family spanning across three shows... All gone. Starting all over. Undoing everything, except what Jim went through. As much as I love Jim, I didn’t think he’d be the only character I’d be getting closure for at the grand finale of this entire franchise. But that’s what happened and I really hate it.

Just...all in all, this movie wasn’t satisfying. Not to me. It had its good moments. But not nearly enough. The comedy was misplaced and fell flat. The climax was sorely anticlimactic and didn’t hold a candle to Eternal Knight. The writing, the direction, characterization...For some reason it was all lost and confused and none of it felt right and so much didn’t make sense.

I’m not at all upset with the writers, though, because they still pulled through and did what they could. When the movie did something right, it was beautiful. The things I loved about it I truly adored. No, I’m not upset in the least bit with any of the creative team.

I’m upset with Netflix. I’m upset that Wizards was robbed of the seasons it should’ve had. I’m upset with big cooperations stifling creators. I’m upset that this’ll be it. This is the ending we got and nothing can be done about it.

Aaron did say there’s every possibility for the franchise to continue in some capacity, and I’m hoping for that someday. Because so much, too much, has been left unanswered. So much left to be explored that couldn’t. But until then....I guess this is it. This is what we get.

Now, I want to remind everyone that this is my own personal experience with the movie. These are all my opinions. If you enjoyed every second the movie, that’s wonderful! And who knows how my thoughts will change upon another viewing. But in the meantime, Rise of the Titans really missed the mark for me. I wanted found family badassery and fluff. But nope. Just fighting and heaviness and no payoff. It’s such a letdown...a real shame. 

But yeah...Thanks to any and everyone who read to the end of this haha

I still love Tales of Arcadia. It’s a series that has blessed and inspired me so much as an artist, writer, and as a person in general. I do want to keep making ToA content for a while. Cause this movie isn’t the end. Not my ending, at least.

I’ll continue to hope for more Tales of Arcadia in the future (a Douxie spin-off series please Lord pleaaase). We shall see. Until then, fics and fanart fixing this mess galore haha

Until next time everyone! God bless!

[crystaljins]

Equinox

Characters: Jimin x Reader

Word count: 7.2K

Synopsis: When it first was announced that the King of Spring was to marry the Queen of Winter, shock and outrage poured across the nation. Now, six months later, Jimin can’t help but feel maybe the Queen of Winter isn’t as evil as she seems.

King of spring!Jimin x Queen of Winter!reader

Notes: This is NOT the huge fic I’m working on LOL. It’s a drabble that turned into a BIG drabble, in dedication to my good friend, who wanted to see a fic where both main characters are royalty.

Well, here we are.

Warnings: Not really any? Pining, maybe, mentions of death and tragedy, and maybe one big kiss?

Jimin has spent an entire three months of the year in the Central Palace every year since his coronation as the King of Spring. Yet, despite his familiarity with the luxurious building, this year it feels particularly unbearable.

It isn’t the palace itself that is unbearable. After all, the Central Palace fulfils any need he could have for luxury and then some, with expansive grounds and an imposing throne room and a ball room that many have only dreamed of seeing. It almost reaches the point where he’s sick of it sometimes- the gold rimmed pillars and the intricate carvings of the stairwell railings and the other numerous unnecessary and excessively decadent detailing. 

It’s just... He much prefers his small cottage and the lovely little orchard he looks after. Sometimes children from the local village will sneak in and steal fruit but he merely smiles privately to himself when he hears the peals of laughter filter through the open windows of his home. And ever since he received a letter a week ago informing him that you had made his cottage your current abode, he has been inexplicably eager to return home.

The end of his current stay (which has actually been a six month stay this time around instead of the usual three) draws near, with Spring just on the precipice of Summer. As the reigning King of Spring, it is his duty to oversee the entire kingdom during the season where his powers are strongest, to manage the season and ensure his people prosper, and then prepare the way for the Queen of Summer to take his place for the next three months. 

Today is one of the days where his duty feels particularly tedious- he has never particularly minded Haeun and her chatty nature, but today she just seems absolutely asinine. Perhaps it is the fact that she seems uninterested in discussing anything aside from the current status of the Queen of Winter when there are so many more important things to discuss, like the crop maturation this year and how much sunlight would best benefit their ripening, or even the Equinox Ball tonight which marks the official changeover between his season and her’s. Instead, the only words that have been coming out of her mouth are with regards to you, and him, and your fairly recent wedding.

When he had been wedded to you on the Winter Solstice, many had been shocked, but none more so than the Queen of Summer. After all, for the last few hundred years, the one who bears the crown of Summer had always been betrothed to the ruler of Spring. It was only natural, as Spring prepares the way for Summer, and such a pairing enhances the powers of both parties. The kingdom had faced many centuries of prosperity thanks to what was essentially a match forged in the heavens. No doubt in Haeun’s mind, her rightful place was as his bride. And Jimin can’t blame her- for many years, he had thought the same thing. He had assumed his life would follow a similar path to those of his predecessors and that he would inevitably end up marrying Summer. And yet, here he is, married to the evasive, mysterious, and apparently cruel Queen of Winter.

It had been the Elders to make the call to arrange such a shocking match up. To have the Queen of Winter marry the King of Spring was unheard of- ridiculous, even. But you were unlike the rulers that had gone before you- your powers were endless, unstoppable, and the Winters brought by you were unforgiving and cold, and many lost their lives. Something had to be done- your powers had to be balanced since you couldn’t seem to reign them in. And since it has always been Spring to conquer the cold aftereffects of Winter, to warm the earth and coax life back into places where frost had chased it away, it fell to Jimin to take the place as your husband and to prevent disaster striking the Kingdom. A duty which he had taken up with a resigned sense of obligation. 

At least at first.

“So are the rumours all true about her?” Haeun enquires. Her question seems innocent enough. For whatever reason, you had always remained frustrating allusive to the others. Locked away in your wintry fortress (or at least, everyone assumes that’s where you must be despite the fact that no one has ever confirmed the presence of a fortress within your domain), everyone reports that you must be ruthless and cold-hearted. Perhaps even evil- after all, when you are seated upon the throne, the harshest and most brutal Winters ever seen in history terrorise the lands. 

But the question has Jimin on edge, for he has found that you do not fit nicely into the box of icy and cruel that he had thought you would. 

“I would say those rumours do not hold an ounce of truth to them.” Jimin offers mildly, pausing from where he strolls along Haeun to observe a rose bloom that has begun to wilt. Normally, the palace gardens are impeccable, and the gardens thrive during Jimin’s reign, but things always seem to get a bit messy at the transition between seasons. This particular bloom must be the victim of his and Haeun’s powers clashing as she prepared to take the throne for her season. He gently runs his fingers over the drooping petals and instantly the rose brightens, petals curling upwards as it finds new life in response to his presence. It reminds him of the first time you had borne witness to the effect of his powers and the quiet awe on your face. Not for the first time since Spring began, he feels a strange ache in his chest at the thought of you. You’re at his cottage right now, surely. What kind of expression are you wearing as you gaze upon his carefully kept orchard? 

“Really? She’s always so haughty at the Equinox ball that I was sure she thought she was better than us. Just because her powers are stronger- does she not know that people die because of her?” Haeun sniffs, clearly displeased by the way Jimin has not joined in her obvious attempts to complain about you. 

“I think she is aware of it.” Is all Jimin offers to Haeun, but internally he recalls the way you lock yourself in your quarters for the night whenever word reaches you that another innocent has died at the cold hands of Winter, and the way you spend most of your free time pouring over books and texts trying to learn how you might control your powers and soften your Winters. Haeun makes an annoyed scoff and folds her arms across her chest.

“Being aware of it isn’t enough, Jimin.” She says, and Jimin does not miss the way she uses his name when it is customary to call him by his season. “She needs to control it. We all do! It is the whole reason we take the throne. What use is she, if she cannot manage her own season? If I had were Winter, I would-“

“Haeun.” Jimin says firmly, and her eyes widen because even though she often takes liberties and calls him by his name, he has always been respectful and referred to her as Summer when it comes to the transition meetings between seasons. “It is not my place to discuss the personal life of Winter. And as her husband, I respectfully ask that you do not speak so liberally about my wife again. Unless you have anything further to discuss about the Equinox Ball tonight or about the occurrences during my season, I’ll be taking my leave now.” 

He bows deeply, demonstrating the respect her position demands, before turning on his heel. 

“Doesn’t it bother you?” She calls out. Jimin pauses, glancing over his shoulder. The sun peeking through the pillars of the pathway catches Haeun’s hair and highlights the softness of her features. Across the land, she is known as the sunlit beauty- warm and gentle and pretty, like the Summer season she reigns over. When he was young and still a prince and everyone had thought she was his future wife, he had even harboured a crush on her.  “That you’re stuck with her? All she brings is coldness and death. You were forced into it- I know you were! Doesn’t it hurt to be wedded to her?”

The unspoken sentiment that Haeun does not voice is “when you could have been with me”. Looking at her now, perhaps her sudden interest in you has more to do with Jimin than any real sentiment towards your actions. 

And perhaps, Haeun’s words are closer to the truth then he wants them to be. Initially, it had bothered him. Why had the Elders had forced him to marry you? Was there not an easier way to subdue your immense powers? Why could you not just... control them? Even Autumn, free-spirited and lazy as he was, kept his season well-managed. And why did it fall to Jimin to fix something that was your own fault? Haeun was a much better match for him in terms of strengthening his powers, and he absolutely loathed the season of Winter- marrying the ruler of his least favourite season is certainly not something he had ever imagined doing. 

He had spent the first three months of his marriage staying with you in the Central Palace fuelled by that sentiment and at first you had made yourself very scarce. It had suited Jimin just fine- after all, he did not bear any particular affection towards you- perhaps he even detested you a little, and if the rumours were to be believed, he’d be better off interacting with you as little as possible. 

And then things had changed, for whatever reason. He can’t be sure what prompted you to do it, but one morning you had been sitting across from him in the dining quarters, enjoying your breakfast in silence as had become customary for the two of you, when you had decided to speak. 

“Winter isn’t as bad as you think.” You had said softly, taking a long sip of your drink, before fixing Jimin with a level gaze. He had glanced up in surprise- at that stage he could probably count on one hand the number of times you had spoken in his presence.

“I never-“ Jimin had begun, ready to defend himself but you had cut him off. 

“You didn’t have to.” You had said, though your tone had not been unkind. You actually have a very sweet voice, one that contrasts with your icy reputation. “But, today I have nothing scheduled, and I wouldn’t mind showing you a few things. It must be better than wondering aimlessly around the palace.” 

Against his better judgement, perhaps, Jimin had accepted. Whatever his feelings were towards you, he was sick of wondering aimlessly. He missed his little cottage and he was beginning to grow sick of the giant, draft-y Central Palace. Any change to the lethargic rhythm of his days, even if it meant spending the day with you, was a welcome one.

And you were right. Wintertime is more than coldness and death. As the ruler of Spring, he had always thought of it as such- after all, it has always been his duty to remedy the devastation left behind by Winter. But Winter is also a time of festivities- of huddling in the warmth of a fire along side your family. Its catching snowflakes on your tongue and children laughing as they skate over frozen lakes and form little ice sculptures from snow. He hadn’t known it until he spent those three months with you. And after that first day where you had taken him out to a frozen lake close to the palace and shown him how to ice skate, spending time with you had become more of a regular occurrence. 

Which brings him to today.

“I’m not stuck with her.” Is what Jimin finally says to Haeun, who deflates, just slightly. He does not explain any further- he’s not sure he can. He certainly doesn’t feel the burden of obligation that had weighted his every step when he first married you. He perhaps even misses you, after three months of separation. It’s all a little scary and confusing but all he knows for sure is that being married to you is no longer the offensive chore he initially viewed it as. 

This time when Jimin turns away, she does not stop him. He is relieved- he is sick of hearing Haeun speak so disrespectfully about you. He’s sick of the way servants whisper in the halls when you walk past. He’s sick of the way travellers tell stories of evil Winter, who takes lives for fun and revels in the cruelty of her blizzards. He doesn’t know why, given that it has only been six months since he married you, and three whole months since he even last saw you in person, but he feels a strange protectiveness towards you. Just the thought of those whispers when he knows of you, curled up beneath the security of a warm blanket on the hearth, with the fire’s glow highlighting your features, still studying away even after a full days’ worth of royal duties so that you can learn to control your powers makes his heart ache. He wishes, just once, that he had been brave enough to curl up beside you and to listen to the steady sound of your breathing, the rhythmic turn of a page, the crackle of the fire’s warmth. Or brave enough to hush the terrible whispers. Anything to wipe that expression you get on your face when you know people are thinking unpleasant things about you. That guarded, reserved expression that he knows is concealing a broken heart.

“My Lord!” Jimin hears a voice call, and he almost curses. He wants nothing more than to return to his quarters and begin packing up. It has now been six months since he has been in his actual home, and when he received that letter from you a week ago informing him that you had taken up residence in his home, he had only been more eager to return. He wants to know what his home looks like with you in it. He wants to know what you look like in the brightness of Summer, away from the grief and cold of Winter. He wants to see you again to the point it is almost alarming. “My Lord!” The voice calls again, and one of the servants skids to a stop before Jimin. It is Namjoon. Jimin recalls his name because Namjoon is one of the few servants you are rather fond of. 

“Hello, Namjoon.” Jimin greets warmly, and Namjoon looks surprised and delighted at the sound of his name. “How can I be of service?”

Namjoon is slightly out of breath, and he reaches for the pocket of his trousers, fishing around until he produce a single crumpled piece of paper. 

“It is a letter from Winter.” Namjoon says. “She asked me to relay to you that she will not be attending the Equinox Ball and that she shall see you tomorrow at the your domain.” 

Jimin’s eyes widen and he quickly snatches the paper from Namjoon’s hand. He does not mean to be quite so aggressive with his movements, but he is shaken at the way you have abruptly cancelled. Without even realising it, he had hyped himself up at the thought of seeing you again after a long three months. 

It’s a lengthy apology, neatly written and well-articulated. It basically gives an entire, eloquent list of flimsy excuses as to why you should not attend. 

But Jimin sees straight through it. Perhaps in the past, he would have let it be. Let you sit at home and then awkwardly greet you in his cottage the next morning. But now that he knows the way your expression shutters when people mutter rude things under their breath about you, now that he knows the way you lie awake at night, haunted by grief and guilt, he knows that you are running away. After all, the whispers had only gotten worse after your marriage- the Evil Queen of Winter shackling the charming and kind King of Spring is certainly quite the tale to set tongues wagging. 

And while Jimin hates the thought of you spending an evening in discomfort when there are about a thousand better ways for you to spend your time, he hates the thought of people thinking of his marriage to you as a tragic event even more. He wants to stroll into the ballroom with your hand in his, to proudly show off that he is not some tragic heroine trapped in a loveless marriage to an evil overlord. He wants people to see you, your kindness and your sweetness. He wants people to realise that Winter can be even warmer than Summer sometimes, in the right circumstances. 

“Is she currently in my domain?” Jimin asks softly, but he knows from the floral, woodsy scent of the paper that it was written in his home. Namjoon hesitates before offering an awkward nod. 

“I believe so.” He admits. “The messenger who brought the letter was one of the keepers of your orchard.” 

Jimin nods, tonguing thoughtfully at the inside of his cheek. A well-cared for horse would allow him to reach his home within a couple of hours. He keeps his own horses at the cottage who would be able to take the two of you back in time for nightfall. He is to give a speech at the Ball and that will be his last official duty until next year. And for whatever reason, he does not want to give the speech if you are not there, amongst the crowd. It’s still possible if he leaves now.

“Ready a horse for me, Namjoon,” Jimin finally says, shoving the letter into the pocket of his trousers. He’ll have to change into gear more appropriate for a long ride. 

“But, my liege, the ball-“ Namjoon protests. 

“I’ll be there.” Jimin reassures him, though his expression is grim. “And so will my wife.”

Namjoon doesn’t need to be told twice.

++

Jimin has really, truly missed his home. Nothing quite compares to it. When they had first identified him as heir to the throne of Spring, the Elders had initially planned for him to stay in the castle inhabited by his predecessors. After all, since he did in theory bear their spirit, the castle should technically be to his tastes. 

But he guess he differs to his previous incarnations, since he only lasted a few weeks before he moved into the cottage his parents owned close to the castle. It’s not unusual for tastes to change like that with different incarnations of Spring- though he feels that he can recall their previous lifetimes if he thinks very hard about it, they are different people and incarnations. The only traits he shares with those who had gone before is his power over the season of Spring.

Perhaps that is why, despite the fact that previous Springs have deeply loved Summer, he cannot stop thinking about Winter. Especially as the edge of the orchard draws into view. 

Oddly, you aren’t in the cottage when he enters. There’s evidence that you’ve been staying there- some of your books are scattered over his work desk and the gardening implements around the back of the cottage are shifted around as if someone has been sorting through them. But it does not take long to locate you deep in the orchard, crouched beneath the orange tree. You don’t seem to have registered his presence yet given that you continue to mutter to yourself as you stab aggressively at the soil with a tiny hand shovel he recognises from the implements he keeps around the back of his cottage.  

He’s about to confront you, but the sight of you, crouched down and wearing oversized trousers and an ugly, soil covered shirt he recognises from the very back of his wardrobe, has him completely frozen. It’s hard to explain the emotion- a powerful, roaring wave crashing down on the peaceful shorelines of his heart. 

“(Y/N),” your name comes in a exhale of his breath, one that’s not entirely voluntary. It’s his mistake though, because you were absolutely not anticipating his presence, and you leap about a metre in the air in your shock. 

Stumbling back a few steps in a sort of awkward crab walk, revealing your handy work. A small hole you had been digging and a handful of withered, lifeless daffodils. 

“J-Jimin,” you stutter, and your accidental use of his name when you had previously only referred to him as Spring has his heart racing in his chest for reasons he doesn’t quite understand. “T-this isn’t what it looks like!” You cry. “I was just...”

It takes a moment, but Jimin manages to shake himself out of the trance long enough to realise that the withered and lifeless daffodils just so happen to be his favourite flowers from

his front garden. Immediately, whatever mysterious emotion that had overcome him prior is replaced by abject horror. 

“My daffodils!” He cries, stricken with grief. And they had been so young, as well! Such lovely, bright blooms, withered and dried up! Abruptly, you scramble to your feet and dust the soil from your hands and knees, scrambling towards him. 

“I was just trying to water them!” You cry, hands outstretched in an attempt to calm him in his distress. “I don’t have any flowers in my domain since the ground is not very fertile and I was just trying to tend to them!”

“They’re dead!” Jimin points out. “How much did you water them?”

You pause, shrinking under his gaze, before holding up ten fingers. 

“Ten?” Jimin asks, and you nod. “Ten what?” 

You mumble something he doesn’t quite catch. He steps closer in an attempt to decipher your sheepish mumblings. 

“What?” Jimin asks, and you sigh before fixing him with a steady glare. 

“Ten buckets!” You cry. “I asked your gardener and she told me that these are fickle plants that require constant moisture!”

“So you watered them with ten buckets of water? You drowned my daffodils!” He cries. You deflate, just slightly, glancing forlornly at the fallen remains of his beloved babies. He’d so carefully tended to them as well! They were just reaching the point where he could lift the buds and replant them. There’s a nice sunny spot at the back of the orchard that they would have thrived in, and now... and now... 

“I’m sorry for your loss.” You finally offer, stepping forward to comfortingly pat at his shoulder. “They lived a good life, under your care,” you continue. “And once you finish off your duties at the Equinox Ball tonight I’m sure you can...” You trail away slowly, and the hand stroking his shoulder slows its pats. And then you gasp in horror when you register that Jimin is here, in his orchard, grieving over some dead daffodils instead of finalising preparations for the Equinox Ball. “Jimin!” You cry. “The Ball! How can you be here? You’re supposed to be preparing for the Ball.”

“Well,” Jimin snaps, perhaps a bit more grumpy than the situation really warranted, but you also killed his lovely daffodils. “I am supposed to be there, but my lovely wife decided she’d much rather kill my daffodils and hide the evidence instead of attend the Ball as is her duty!”

You flush, a shade that he can’t help notice is a rather endearing shade despite everything. Dimly, he recalls that overwhelming feeling he’d experienced when he first saw you earlier, but he pushes it down. There are more pressing matters to attend to- his daffodils can be given a proper burial later.

“Yes, well, as you read in my letter, I thought it would be far better for me to-“ you begin, clearing your throat awkwardly as you often do before giving a formal address. It only irks him further that you’re placating him as if he’s a random parliament member who needs coddling or a foreign emissary you have to charm. He’s your husband and he’s sick of people- you included- pretending otherwise. 

“You’re running away.” He offers quietly, and your eyes widen. Perhaps you had been expecting him to dance around the bushes. After all, three months ago during Winter, though you had grown undeniably closer, there had always been the feeling of treading on eggshells around each other. Like neither of you really knew how to react together. But a lot has changed, in three months. Jimin has had three months to overthink and to pretend he doesn’t know the name for the feelings of longing he can’t shake off and to deny that he misses you and now that you’re finally here in front of him, he does not want to waste another second. 

That crashing, roaring wave in his heart will not quieten, and finally he gives it a platform to pour out. 

“You’re scared. I get that. You don’t know what you’re feeling and everyone and their mother seems to have an opinion on our marriage and maybe you think it will be easier if you stay out of the public eye,” Jimin tells you urgently. He steps forward as if he is approaching a startled deer. “But it won’t be. They won’t ever stop. So why let them dictate what makes you happy?” 

You just stare at him, speechless, and he takes your silence as permission to step a little closer. Every movement he makes is slow and steady- you have to option to pull away at any moment. He stretches out a hand, wraps his fingers around yours and then raises your hand slowly towards his heart, letting you rest your palm flat against the thrumming rhythm. 

“I missed you.” They aren’t the words he intended to say. He’s not even entirely sure what words he had planned to convince you to come with him. But those words are the ones that burst forth. He can’t hold back anymore. He feels like he’s spent three whole months trying to prevent a volcano from erupting, and he’s exhausted. He can’t hold back anymore, he can’t keep up the facade that he’s ok, when you took his heart with you when you agreed to move out of the Central Palace at the request of the Elders three months ago. “I want you to be at the Ball with me. If we leave now, we can make it. Please- do this with me.” He begs. 

He’s met with silence. The longer it stretches out, the more dread slowly filters into his heart. It takes him a long few moments, but when he finally gains the courage to gaze upon your expression, his heart drops into his feet. 

Tears pour over your cheeks. You’re normally so put-together, but with your guard down in his absence, dirt smidges your cheeks and the sun gilds your skin. You’re so heart achingly beautiful. It’s like the sensation of stone giving way, the way he feels a crevice form in his heart at the sight.

“Jimin,” you finally say, and your voice is barely above a whisper. “We can’t...”

You trail away, but it’s enough. He feels a bit like you’ve slapped him. He’d thought... he’d thought it had been the both of you struggling in your separation, but it seems it was only him. He’s a fool- how could be have ever thought he was strong enough to thaw the frozen heart of Winter? 

“Right.” He says, humiliated by the way his voice cracks. “Well. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. Duty calls.”

He turns on his heel so that you can’t see the way tears sting at the back of his eyes. 

You don’t stop him as he leaves. 

++

The Queen of Winter is a dignified woman. Tucked far away in her fortress, the common folk speculate that she does not have a heart. 

For a long time, you’d thought maybe it was true, but this constant ache in your chest is proving otherwise. 

“Are you just going to watch him go?” Yoongi, your personal guard, asks lazily. He is reclined in one of the cosy arm chairs in the centre of Jimin’s cottage, munching away at one of the apples he stole from the tree at the front of the cottage. You spare him a glance over your shoulder, before returning your gaze to the cantering horse that moves further and further away with each passing moment. 

“What else can I do?” You finally ask, tearing your gaze from the window and settling into the chair opposite Yoongi. Unlike him, you sit neatly, with your knees pressed together and your ankles tucked delicately to the side. Yoongi shrugs, crunching through another mouthful of apple. 

“Well you could have said no one was home when Summer knocked on your door last week like I suggested. But no. You had to invite her in and make her tea and let her get under your skin and now here we are, missing the feast of the year so that you can sulk.” He grumbles, crunching a bit more aggressively. Normally, Yoongi is a placid, lethargic sort of guy, but he’s been grumpy ever since Haeun showed up unannounced last week. Well, actually, he’s been like this ever since you received the order from the Elders to vacate the Central Palace in case you disturbed the prosperity of the oncoming Spring. After all, their plan had worked- having Jimin stay with you in the Central Palace had been enough to curb your Winter, but they didn’t want to offset his powers of Spring. 

“Yoongi,” you begin tiredly, ready to feed him the same ridiculous lines about your duty and your out of control powers that you’re sick of saying, but he cute you off. 

“No.” He snaps, the most forceful he’s ever been with you in perhaps his entire life. “You listen to me.” 

You’re too surprised by his aggression to retort, which gives him the opportunity to launch off in a furious tirade. 

“You finally had a good thing going for you. Finally someone who didn’t blame you for your Winters, someone who was kind and made you smile for the first time in literal years, and now you want me to sit here and accept that a cantankerous, overheated she-witch has the power to take that way with a couple of weak and not very witty jibes?” He demands. “What happened to the Queen of Winter? The woman who ate hearts for breakfast and drank the blood of her victims as wine?”

“She never existed.” You frown. “I faint when i accidentally kill a mosquito-“

“But you let those rumours circulate. You never tried to correct them because you never gave a damn about the small fry, so why are you letting some over-baked half-wit get to you?” He demands, pointing an accusing, half-eaten apple in your direction. 

You are silent as you recall the encounter the previous week. You had just finished penning a letter to Jimin to inform him you were looking forward to meeting with him when he returned to his cottage, when there had been an unexpected banging on the door. 

Haeun and you have never had a good relationship. Instinctively, Summer and Winter are on opposite ends of the spectrum, but she’d also always loathed the way your powers ran wild. After your cold, unforgiving Winters, she always had to burn hotter, and more intensely during the Summer to compensate, and it probably took its toll on her. And to add insult to injury, you had married the love of her life at the request of the Elders. The knowledge that you had taken something so important from her had been why you couldn’t just slam the door in her face even though Yoongi had gestured for you to do so just out of her view. 

He’s usually right though, since he’s quite gifted at reading people, and he was right that you should have kicked her out then and there.  Haeun had nothing but poison to spill forth from her lips.

Logically, you know the things she was saying were said with the intent to hurt you. Jimin had proved his kindness and warmth again and again during the three months you had lived together and it had even started to reach the point where it felt like he was your real husband. Not just an assigned keeper with the legal right to receive your belongings if you one day died. It felt like he actually cared- the way he sat with you on long, cold nights, the secret smiles he offered over breakfast, the way he left tea outside your bedroom door when he knew you had been up late studying. 

Jimin had done the impossible, warming the cold, frozen tundra your heart had lived in, and what you long for in return is to be the person who brings warmth to his Winters. Who holds him in the cold. Who rejoices with him in the bright months of Summer. You’d spent the whole of Spring in a joyful, happy cloud, remembering the way your Winter had been gentle and soft for the first time in your whole life. 

And then you’d heard what Haeun had to say. 

“I’m just concerned.” She had told you, dress in a dainty Summer dress that allowed the warm Spring sun to warm her shoulders. She always wears loud, cheerful colours and on that day she had worn a bright yellow to match the daffodils you had desperately been trying to keep alive. “I’m only saying this because I know you care about him too, and I would want to know this if I were in your shoes.”

Yoongi had been watching the whole exchange with an expression on his face like he’d swallowed a sour lemon and he had rolled his eyes when she’d said that. And yet, you hadn’t been able to approach her words with the same disdain. 

“You know how beloved Spring is. For him to be wedded to you is causing a lot of distress within the kingdom! And the things people are saying about him- that he’s bewitched by your enchantments, that he’s weak-willed and unworthy to lead.” She gazes at you with a glare and the hardest part of all this is that she’s telling the truth. She really came here out of a sense of duty to Jimin because she wants you to stop interfering with his life. “Why couldn’t you have just learned to use your powers instead of turning his life upside down like this?”

And hadn’t that been the final nail in the coffin. Even now, a week later, you are still reeling from her words. It had been with a heavy heart you had decided not to make an appearance at the Ball. 

But you hadn’t expected this to happen- for it to hurt just as much to refuse Jimin’s request to go with him. Why does it hurt both way? Why is it that if you have him, you ruin his life, but if you reject him, he looks at you like that? Like you’ve betrayed him? Like you’ve set fire to his orchard before his very eyes?

“Because I love him.” You admit to Yoongi. He chokes for a moment, surprised by your admission, before staring at you with wide eyes. 

“You what?” He demands, and you offer him a weak smile. 

“I love him, Yoongi.” You say again, and Yoongi’s gaze softens because he’s known you since you were a child in the Central Palace for the first time and he’s never seen such warmth in your eyes. You aren’t the Queen of Winter for nothing. “I love him so much I don’t know what to do and I just feel like no matter what choice I make it hurts.”

You hate the way your voice chokes, and Yoongi lifts from his chair, walking over to you to rest a warm hand over your own. 

“So if your choices are being hurt and miserable and being hurt and happy, why not choose the path that has at least a little bit of good in it?” Yoongi asks you gently. You stare at him, surprised, and he offers you a grin. “There’s a dress in your wardrobe with your name on it and if we leave now we should make it in time for Spring’s Official Address.” He tells you, straightening and stretching out with a yawn. “Better go get my riding boots.” He sighs. 

For a moment, you are frozen at Yoongi’s words, but then slowly a grin splits your face. 

He’s right. Both choices hurt- so why not choose the one where you get to be with Jimin? 

You gaze out the window at where the Sun is just beginning to sink into late afternoon. 

You have a Ball to get to. 

++

Jimin isn’t sure how he’s made it this far into the night. He feels like he’s just hollowly going through the motions and it’s a wonder that no one has picked up that he feels like he’s walking around with a stomach full of glass shards. If he’d known a broken heart hurt this much, he’d have long ago cast aside his heart to save himself the pain. 

“Are you excited?” Haeun questions cheerfully. She wears a long, golden dress that shimmers and catches the lights of the chandelier overhead as she moves. Her hair is carefully braided over her left shoulder, leaving her collar bones and delicate throat exposed. Yet the sight of the daffodil flower crown woven into her hair atop her head just seems to mock him. 

“I suppose.” He answers, with an empty smile. Haeun beams in response. She’s in an awfully good mood today and it only seems to worsen his own mood. “I’m ready for a nine month break from my duty.”

She offers him a bright laugh, and the two of them are interrupted by a firm clap against Jimin’s shoulder. He winces and turns to find Taehyung beaming at him. 

“Hello, brother!” He says cheerfully. “I haven’t seen you since the start of Spring! How is your lovely wife? I was just thinking I should pop over to visit her and then I learned that she wasn’t in her domain. Imagine my surprise when I head that she’s been staying in the Spring domain for the past three months. I trust the marriage is going well?” He questions, with a suggestive waggle of his strong brows. 

Jimin is unable to stop his expression from falling. All night, he’s managed to at least keep up a facade that he’s ok, but those words hit just a little bit too hard. He just and quickly slips the false smile back onto his face, but the King of Autumn has always been quick-witted, and he does not miss the devastation on Jimin’s face. 

“Jimin?” He asks slowly. Haeun looks a little confused at the slow, careful tone of Taehyung’s voice and at the use of Jimin’s name. “Is everything alright?”

Jimin offers him another hollow smile but he is saved the effort of lying when his advisor comes rushing over. 

“My Lord!” Seokjin cries. “It is time for your address! Please hurry to the stage.” He clicks his tongue a few times, corralling Jimin towards the stage. 

He supposes it is now or never. 

The tradition for the handover of Spring to Summer is fairly straight forward- at the Ball, Jimin is to deliver an address, celebrating the prosperity of Spring and wishing Summer well for her season. It’s usually one of his favourite duties- to gaze upon the faces of his subjects, to know that his words kickstart a weeklong festival where people will dance in the streets and sing with joy at the arrival of their long awaited Summer. But today, he feels as if he is made of wood as he takes the stage. 

“I thank you all for coming,” he begins. A simple spell cast upon the stage allows his voice to be amplified so that everyone can hear him. “As you all know, this particular Spring has been a big one for me. I have spent not three, but six whole months in the Central Palace, overseeing the seasons.” He offers a fake cheeky smile. “Safe to say I’m a little homesick.” That earns him a little chuckle for he is infamous for his simple and modest home. “But it has been my most triumphant Spring yet, because I...�� 

No one is more surprised than him at the way his words seem to fail him. 

“Because I...” he tries again, but the words are choked off and the audience starts to murmur in confusion. 

He can’t do it- he can’t fake happiness and merriment. Not when you aren’t even here. Not when you had been the source of his happiness for the last six months. 

“Because...”

And then the doors to the ballroom swing open and he gazes upon the most beautiful woman he has ever seen. 

You wear a floor length gown. As is custom, your dress matches your season, shimmering blue with diamonds cast upon it that catch the light and dance like floating snowflakes. You hair falls around your face, flushed with exertion and your eyes are bright, even from across the room. 

An eerie hush falls upon the room. No one has ever seen Winter so dishevelled; and yet she is by no means ugly or unappealing. No, in fact, for years after people will sing songs about your beauty this night- how your eyes shine brighter than the stars in the sky and how your smile holds a joy no one had ever thought you capable of. 

Slowly, you step towards him. The crowd parts around you, and yet it is like you are the only person in the room. Even if he had wanted to speak, he would have been incoherent. The roaring feeling in his heart is now a tsunami- he’s swept away. He’s in love beyond what he ever thought was capable. He loves you- he loves you!!

“Jimin,” you say, smiling sweetly when you finally stop in front of him. “I’m so sorry I’m late.” 

And then you kiss him, bold and happy, in front of the entire ballroom and Jimin feels his heart may explode. 

++

There is, of course, much to discuss after your arrival to the Ball. Haeun’s words- your fears and insecurities- Jimin’s own feelings. There is so much to discuss and yet that night, Jimin is only capable of one thing. After his address finishes, he holds you in his arms as the two of you sway in a gentle waltz. He presses a gentle kiss to the crown of your head and he feels you smile into the crook of his neck. 

There is so much to say, and so much to do, but the two of you have your whole lives together to discuss it.

[army-of-mai-lovers]

Jet and Yue’s Deaths: Were They Necessary?

Two of the most common ideas I see for aus in this fandom are the Jet lives au, and the Yue lives au. I’ve written both of these myself, and I’ve seen many others write them. And while yes, fanfiction can be a great way to explore ideas that didn’t necessarily have to be explored in canon (I’m mad at bryke for a lot of things, but not including a Toph and Bumi I friendship is not one of them, even though I wrote a fic about it), it seems to me that people are mad that Yue and Jet are dead, to varying degrees. There’s a lot to talk about regarding their deaths from a sociopolitical perspective (the fact that two of the darker-skinned characters in the show are the ones that died, and all the light-skinned characters lived, is ah... an interesting choice), but I don’t want to look at it that way, at least for right now. I want to look at it as a writer, and discuss whether these deaths were a) necessary for the plot and themes of ATLA in any way whatsoever and b) whether it was necessary for them to unfold in the way that they did, or if they would have been more impactful had they occurred in a different way. 

(meta under the cut, this got really, really, really long)

Death in Children’s Media

When I first started thinking about this meta, I had this idea to compare Jet and Yue’s deaths to deaths in an animated children’s show that I found satisfying. And in theory, that was a great idea. Problem is: there aren’t very many permanent deaths in children’s animation, and the ones that do exist aren’t especially well-written. This may be an odd thing to say in what is ostensibly a piece of atla crit, but Yue’s death is probably the best written death in a piece of children’s animation that I can think of. That’s not a compliment. Rather, it’s a condemnation of the way other pieces of children’s animation featuring permanent character death have handled their storylines. 

I’ve talked about this before, but my favorite show growing up was Young Justice, and my favorite character on that show was far and away Mr. Wally West. So when he died at the end of season 2, it broke me emotionally. Shortly thereafter, Cartoon Network canceled the show, and I started getting on fan forums to mourn. Everybody on these fan forums was convinced that had Cartoon Network not canceled the show, Wally would have been brought back. And that is a narrative that I internalized for years. Eventually, the show was brought back via DC’s new streaming service, and I tuned in, waiting for Wally to also be brought back, only to discover that that wasn’t in the cards. Wally was dead. Permanently. 

So now that I know that, I can talk about why killing him off was fucking stupid. Wally’s death occurs at the end of season 2, after the main s2 conflict, the Reach, has been defeated, save for these pods that they set up all over the world to destroy Earth. Our heroes split up in teams of two to destroy the pods, and they destroy all of them, except for a secret one in Antartica. It can only be neutralized by speedsters, so Wally, Bart, and Barry team up to destroy it. It’s established in canon that Wally is slower than Bart and Barry, and it’s been played for laughs earlier in the season, but for reasons unexplained, the pod is better able to target Wally because he’s slower than Bart and Barry, and it kills him. After the emotional arc of the season has wrapped up, a literal main character dies. There’s some indication at the end of that season that his death is going to cause Artemis to spiral and become a villain, but when season 3 picks up, she’s doing the right thing, with seemingly no qualms about her position in life as a hero. In the comics, something like this happens to Wally, but then he goes into the Speed Force and becomes faster and stronger even than Barry, in which case, yes, this would have advanced the plot, but that’s probably not in the cards either. 

In summary, Wally’s death doesn’t work as a story beat, not because it made me mad, but because it doesn’t advance the plot, nor does it develop character. Only including things that advance plot or develop character is one of the golden rules of writing. Like most golden rules of writing, however, it’s not absolute. There is a lot of fun to be had in jokey little one off adventures (in atla, Sokka’s haiku competition) or in fun worldbuilding threads that add depth to your setting but don’t really come up (in atla, the existence of Whaletail Island, which is described in really juicy ways, even though the characters never go there.) But in general, when it comes to things like character death, events should happen to develop the plot or advance character. Avatar, for all of its flaws, is really well structured, and a lot of its story beats advance plot and develop character at the same time. However, the show also bears the burden of being a show directed at children, and thus needing to be appropriate for children. And as we know, Nickelodeon and bryke butted heads over this: the death scene that we see for Jet is a compromise, one that implicitly confirms his death without explicitly showing it. So bryke tasked themselves with creating a show about imperialism and war that would do those themes justice while also being appropriate for American children and palatable to their parents. 

The Themes of Avatar vs. Its Audience

So, Avatar is a show about a lone survivor of genocide stopping an imperialist patriarchal society from decimating the rest of the world. It’s also a show about found family and staying true to yourself and doing your best to improve the world. These don’t necessarily conflict with each other, and it is possible for children to understand and enjoy shows about complex themes. And in a lot of cases, bryke doesn’t hold back in showing what the costs of war against an imperialist nation are: losing loved ones, losing yourself, prison, etc. But when it comes to death, the show is incredibly hesitant. None of the main characters that we’ve spent a lot of time getting to know die (not even Iroh, even though he was old and it would have made sense and his VA died before the show was over--but that’s a topic for another day.) This makes sense. I can totally imagine a seven year-old watching Avatar as it was coming out and feeling really sad or scared if a major character died. I was six years older than that when Wally died, and it’s still sad and terrifying to me to this day. However, in a show about war, it would be unrealistic to have no one die. Bryke’s stated reason for killing off Jet is to show the costs of war. I’ve seen a lot of posts about Jet’s death that reiterate some version of this same point--that the great tragedy of his character is that he spent his life fighting the Fire Nation, only to die at the hands of his own country. Similarly, I’ve seen people argue in favor of Yue’s death by saying that it was a great tragedy, but it showed the sacrifices that must be made in a war effort. 

Yue

When we first meet Yue, she is a somewhat reserved, kind individual held back by the rigid social structures of the NWT*. She and Sokka have an immediate attraction to one another, but Yue reveals that she is engaged to Hahn. The Fire Nation invasion happens, Zhao kills Tui, and Yue gives up her life to save her people and the world, and to restore balance. Since we didn’t have a lot of time to get to know Yue, this is framed less as Yue’s sacrifice and more as Sokka’s loss. Sokka is the one who cares for Yue, Sokka is the only one of the gaang who really interacts a lot with Yue on screen, and Sokka is the one we’ve spent a whole season getting to know. While I wouldn’t go so far as to call Yue a prop character (i.e. a character who could be replaced by an object with little change to the narrative), she is certainly underdeveloped. She exists to be unambiguously likable and good, so we can root for her and Sokka, and feel Sokka’s pain when she dies. In my opinion, this is probably also why a lot of fic that features Yue depicts her as a Mary Sue--because as she is depicted in the show, she kind of is. We don’t get to see her hidden depths because she is written to die. 

In light of what we’ve established earlier in this meta, this makes sense. Killing off a fully-realized character whom the audience has really gotten to know and care about on their own terms, rather than through the eyes of another character, could be really sad and scary for the kids watching, but not killing anyone off would be an unrealistic depiction of war and imperialism. On the face of it, killing off an underdeveloped, unambiguously likable and good character, whom one of our MCs has a deep but short connection with, is the perfect compromise. 

But let’s go back to the golden rule for a second. Does Yue’s death a) advance the plot, and/or b) develop character? The answer to the first is yes: Yue’s death prompts Aang to use the Avatar State to fight off the Fire navy, which has implications for his ability to control the Avatar State that form one of the major arcs of book 2. The answer to the second? A little more ambiguous. You would think that Yue’s death would have some lasting impact on Sokka that is explored as part of his character arc in book 2, that he may be more afraid to trust, more scared of losing the people he loves, but outside of a few episodes (really, just one I can think of, “The Swamp”) it doesn’t seem to affect him that much. He even asks about Suki in a way that is clearly romantically motivated in “Avatar Day.” I don’t know about you, but if someone I loved sacrificed herself to become the moon, I don’t think I would be seeking out another romantic entanglement a few weeks after her death. Of course, everybody processes grief differently, and one could argue that Sokka has already lost important people in his life, and thus would be accustomed to moving on from that loss and not letting himself dwell on it. But to that, I’d say that moving on by throwing himself into protecting others has already shown itself to be an unhealthy coping mechanism. Remember, Sokka’s misogyny at the beginning of b1 is in part motivated by the fact that his mother died at the hands of the Fire Nation and his father left shortly thereafter to fight the Fire Nation, and he responds to those things by throwing himself into the role of being the “man” of the village and protecting the people he loves who are still with him. Like with Yue, he doesn’t allow himself to dwell on his mother’s death. This could have been the beginning of a really interesting b2 arc for Sokka, in which he throws himself into being the Avatar’s companion to get away from the grief of losing Yue, but this time, through the events of the show, he’s forced to acknowledge that this is an unhealthy coping mechanism. And maybe this is what bryke was going for with “The Swamp”, but this confines his whole process of grief to one episode, where it could have been a season-long arc that really emphasized the effect Yue’s had on his life. 

In the case of Yue, I do lean toward saying that her death was necessary for the story that they wanted to tell (although, I will never turn down a good old-fashioned Yue lives au that really gets into her dynamism as a character, those are awesome.) However, the way they wrote Sokka following Yue’s death reduced her significance. The fact that Yue seemed to have so little impact on Sokka is precisely what makes her death feel unnecessary, even if it isn’t. 

Jet

Okay. Here we go. 

If you know my blog, you know I love Jet. You know I love Jet lives aus. Perhaps you know that I’m in the process of writing a multichapter Jet fic in which he lives after Lake Laogai. So it’s reasonable to assume that, in a discussion of whether or not Jet’s death was necessary, I’m gonna be mega-biased. And yeah, that’s probably true. But up until recently, I wasn’t really all that mad about Jet dying, at least conceptually. As I said earlier, bryke says that in the case of Jet’s death, they wanted to kill a character off that people knew and would care about, so that they could further show the tragedies of war and imperialism. Okay. That is not, in and of itself, a bad idea. 

My issue lies with the execution of said idea. First of all, the framing of Jet’s original episode is so bad. Jet is part of a long line of cartoon villains who resist imperialism and other forms of oppression through violence and are punished for it. This is actually a really common sort of villain for atla/lok, as we see this play out again with Hama, Amon, and the Red Lotus. To paraphrase hbomberguy’s description of this type of villain, basically liberal white creators are saying, “yeah, oppression is bad, but have you tried writing to your Congressman about it?” With Jet, since we have so little information about the village he’s trying to flood, there are a number of different angles that would explain his actions and give them more nuance. My preferred hc is that the citizens of Gaipan are a mix of Earth civilians, Fire citizens, and FN soldiers, and that the Earth citizens refused to feed or house Jet and the other Freedom Fighters because they were orphans and, as we see in the Kyoshi Novels, Earth families stick to their own. Thus, when Jet decides to flood Gaipan, he’s focused on ridding the valley of Fire Nation, but he doesn’t really care about what happens to the Earth citizens of Gaipan because they actively wronged him when he was a kid. That’s just one interpretation, and there have been others: Gaipan was fully Fire Nation, Gaipan was both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation but Jet decided that the benefits of flooding the valley and getting rid of the Fire Nation outweighed the costs of losing the EK families, etc, etc. There are ways to rewrite that scenario so that Jet is not framed as an unambiguously bloodthirsty monster. In the context of Jet’s death, this initial framing reduces the possible impact that his death could have. Where Yue was unambiguously good, Jet is at the very least morally gray when we see him again in the ferry. And where we are connected to Yue through Sokka, the gaang’s active hatred of Jet hinders our ability to connect with him. This isn’t impossible to overcome--the gaang hates Zuko, and yet to an extent the audience roots for him--but Jet’s lack of screentime and nuanced framing (both of which Zuko gets in all three seasons) makes overcoming his initially flawed framing really difficult. 

So how much can it really be said, that by the time we get to Jet’s death, he’s a character that we know and care about? So much about him is still unknown (what happened to the Freedom Fighters? what prompted Jet’s offscreen redemption? who knows, fam, who knows.) Moreover, most of what we see of him in Ba Sing Se is him actively opposing Zuko and Iroh. These are both characters that at the very least the show wants us to care about. At this point, we know almost everything there is to know about them, we’ve been following them and to an extent rooting for them for two seasons, and who have had nuanced and often sympathetic framing a number of times. So much of the argument I’ve seen regarding Jet centers around the fact that he was right to expose Zuko and Iroh as Firebenders, but the reason we have to have that argument in the first place is because it’s not framed in Jet’s favor. In terms of who the audience cares about more, who the audience has more of an emotional attachment towards, Zuko and Iroh win every time. Whether Jet’s actually in the right or not is irrelevant, because emotionally speaking, we’re primed to root for Zuko and Iroh. In terms of who the framing is biased towards, Jet may as well be Zhao. So when he’s taken by the Dai Li and brainwashed, the audience isn’t necessarily going to see this as a bad thing, because it means Zuko and Iroh are safe.

The only real bit of sympathetic framing Jet gets are those initial moments on the ferry, and the moments after he and the gaang meet again. So about five, ten minutes of the show, total. And then, he sacrifices himself for the gaang. And just like Yue, his death has little to no impact on the characters in the episodes following. Katara is shown crying for four frames immediately following his death, and they bring him up once in “The Southern Raiders” to call him a monster, and once in “The Ember Island Players”, a joke episode in which his death is a joke. 

So, let’s ask again. Does this a) advance the plot, and/or b) develop character? The answer to both is no. It shows that the Dai Li is super evil and cruel, which we already knew and which basically becomes irrelevant in book 3, and that is really the only plot-significant thing I can think of. As far as character, well, it could have been a really interesting moment in Katara’s development in forgiving someone who hurt her in the past, which could have foreshadowed her forgiving Zuko in b3, but considering she calls Jet a monster in TSR, that doesn’t track. There could have been something with Sokka realizing that his snap judgment of Jet in b1 was wrong, but considering that he brings up Jet to criticize Katara in TSR, that also does not track. And honestly, neither of these possible character arcs require Jet to die. What requires Jet to die is the ~themes~. 

Let’s look at this theme again, shall we? The cost of war. We already covered it with Yue, but it’s clearly something that bryke wants to return to and shed new light on. The obvious angle they’re going for is that sometimes, you don’t know who your real enemy is. Jet thought that his enemy was the Fire Nation, but in the end, he was taken down by his own countryman. Wow. So deep. Except, while it’s clear that Jet was always fighting against the Fire Nation, I never got the sense that Jet was fighting for the Earth Kingdom. After all, isn’t the whole bad thing about him in the beginning is that he wants to kill civilians, some of whom we assume to be Earth Kingdom? Why would it matter then that he got killed by an EK leader, when he didn’t seem to ever be too hot on those dudes? But okay, maybe the angle is not that he was killed by someone from the Earth Kingdom, but that he wasn’t killed by someone from the Fire Nation. Okay, but we’ve already seen him be diametrically opposed to the only living Air Nomad and people from the Water Tribes. Jet fighting with and losing to people who aren’t Fire Nation is not a new and exciting development for him. Jet has been enemies with non-FN characters for most of the show’s run at this point. There is no thematic level on which the execution of this holds any water. 

The reason I got to thinking about this, really analyzing what Jet’s death means (and doesn’t mean) for the show, was this conversation I was having with @the-hot-zone in discord dms. We were talking about book 2 and ways it could have been better, and Zone said that they thought that Jet would have been a stronger character to parallel with Zuko’s redemption than Iroh and that seeing more of the narrative from Jet’s perspective could have strengthened the show’s themes. And when it came to the question of Jet’s death, they said, “And if we are going with Jet dying, then I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt just as much as if a main character like Sokka had died. I want the viewer to see Jet's struggles, his triumphs, the facets of Jet that make him compelling and important to the show.” And all of that just hit me. Because we don’t get that, do we? Jet’s death barely leaves a mark. Jet himself barely leaves a mark. His death isn’t plot-significant, doesn’t inspire character growth in any of our MCs, and doesn’t even accomplish the thematic relevance that it claims to. So what was the point? 

Conclusion

Much as I dislike it, Yue’s death actually added something to atla. It could have added much, much more, in the hands of writers who gave more of a shit about their Brown female characters and were less intent on seeing them suffer and knocking them down a peg, but, in my opinion, it did work for what it was trying to do. Jet? Jet? Nah, fam. Jet never got the chance to really develop into a likable character because he was always put at odds with characters we already liked, and the framing skewed their way, not his. The dude never really had a chance.        

*multiple people have spoken about how the NWT as depicted in atla is not reminiscent of real life Inuit and Yupik people and culture. I am not the person to go into detail about this, but I encourage you to check out Native-run blogs for more info!

[ilikefandom]

A Bookclub From the Bench

Request: Hi, can I request Judge Turpin? Where the reader is a close friend of his ward and he kinda likes her, something like that HAHAHA. it’s okay if u don’t want to.

Requested by: Anon

Genre: Fluff

Synopsis: Johanna has a new friend to read books with.

Pairing: Judge Turpin x Fem Reader

Warnings: None

When the bench was installed on the street outside of his house, the honourable Judge Edward Turpin almost threw a fit. Sure it was technically on public property, it couldn’t be seen from most of the windows of the house, and it wasn’t an ugly looking bench, but Johanna could see it from her window. His honour would have no young men sitting on that bench to ogle at Johanna, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Johanna, on the other hand was excited to see other people for once, not just catch glimpses at the passers by. And, as she sat in her window reading a book, she thought she may have the chance to make a friend.

Although Edward couldn’t bear to watch his darling Johanna find a disgusting young man outside of the house, he had  to go to the courthouse to work. He left Johanna and, tightening his cravat to his throat, made his way to the courthouse.

A few hours into the day, Johanna looked up from her book to see a pretty, young, woman sitting on the bench. She wore a sky blue dress and a matching bonnet, the dress itself was simple, although purchased from a store, it was apparent that this girl's family had some wealth. She looked to be older than Johanna, but not by much eighteen, maybe twenty years of age. That girl was (Y/n) (Y/l/n). Mr. (Y/l/n) was the warden and head official of the Newgate Prison, and he had a small portrait of his daughter in his pocket watch. Johanna remembered her face from that lifelike painting, when he had come over for a visit with Mr. Turpin.

(Y/n) looked up at Johanna and smiled at her giving her a little wave as her male companion, that had been just out of sight, came into view. It was her brother William, a bailiff in Turpin’s court. 

Johanna, confident that Mr. Turpin would allow her to visit with the young lady, give a small wave back, her book still in hand. (Y/n)’s eyes widened and she pulled the same book, Pamela, Virtue Rewarded, from the basket her brother carried, she cradled the small object to her chest and smiled. Catching the meaning of the gesture, Johanna hugged her book too.

 (Y/n) hurriedly called out, “Can you hear me?”

Johanna nodded and replied, “Yes, I can hear you!”

“I’m (Y/n).” (Y/n) said shyly as she lowered her book to her lap, sitting once again on the bench.

“I’m Johanna.” Johanna responded, placing her book down as well. 

And that was how a beautiful friendship began. Every Tuesday and every Friday from that point in time, William would walk (Y/n) down to the bench, even as the seasons turned, from fall to winter, (Y/n) and Johanna discussed books they both loved and made a delivery system with a wooden basket, yarn and the trees. 

In the middle of February, Edward Turpin couldn’t help but notice that Johanna was lighter, happier, and that made his insides wrench, who was it that made Johanna this happy that wasn’t him? The next day, a Friday, he sent Beadle to watch the house. 

That day, Johanna was prepared for the book club that the two girls had going, she had finished (Y/n)’s copy of The History of Miss Betsy Thoughtless and her best, and only, friend was returning her copy of Evalina. When (Y/n) arrived with William, Johanna gave her an enthusiastic wave, unaware of Beadle listening in and watching the two girls.

(Y/n) was clothed in a new winter dress, the bottom was already wet from the snow and the matching half cape was pulled over her shoulders. Complete with a white, rabbit fur, muff, she looked like one of the girls from the posters in dress shops. 

Beadle’s eyes widened, it wasn’t a boy professing his love for Johanna that was making her happy, it was a young woman who loved books just as much as the young girl in the window. 

The two were engaging in small talk when Johanna scooted forward with an excited grin, “How was your first courting ball of the season?”

(Y/n) made an embarrassed face before admitting that nobody had even asked her to dance. “Father waited too long. I should have entered last year. I’m twenty years old Johanna, two years older than the typical entry age, I should have realized I had no chance.”

Johanna made a small noise in the back of her throat. “Any of the men of upper status would be lucky to have you as his wife, (Y/n).”

(Y/n) gave a small smile, “I have more trials and balls this year, if not I have three or four more seasons.”

Beatle slunk away from the two friends, who made their goodbyes with promises to meet on Tuesday, and made his way back to the courthouse, this he had to tell the Judge about.

Edward Turpin was surprised to hear that his Johanna had made a friend, but to hear that this friend was a young woman, of marriageable age, excited him. He didn’t know why, but he had to meet this girl and know her as well as his ward did. 

On Tuesday, Edward wrapped up his last case early and departed from the hall of Justice, Beatle at his heels. He was basically running down the street and the servant followed behind him. He rounded the corner and stopped in his track, causing Beatle to stop rather quickly behind him.

There, sitting on the bench before the two men was a vision in pink and white. (Y/n) smiled and laughed, her giggle flowing down the street, flooding the ears of all who heard. And for one moment after the noise stilled, Edward wanted nothing but to hear it again. He didn’t want wealth or power. He didn’t even want Johanna, he wanted that angelic noise to fill his ears again.

Turpin set off toward his house walking at his normal, brisk, pace. Approaching the gate, he caught the young woman’s scent. It wasn’t much, just cleanliness and lavender. Then he caught her eye under the pink and white hood. (Y/l/n) yes, but what was her first name, he had recognised her from a pocket watch portrait. 

She stood, almost tripping over the hem of her dress. “My lord.” she gasped as she stumbled back, he caught her hand before she fell and Johanna let out a small shriek.

Edward Turpin did not consider himself the romantic type, but right here and right now, holding (Y/l/n)’s daughter by her waist, he felt his face flush as thoughts circulated his mind. As the young woman in front of him in pure white a veil hiding her face and hair. Of her teaching Johanna the piano as she ran a hand over a stomach swollen with a baby, his baby.

Dismissing the thoughts from his head, he picked up a book that she had dropped and handed it to her, with a reminder to be more careful next time as the road was slippery. He slid inside of the house looking back on (Y/n), her eyes were wide and a shy smile graced her face. She held the book to her chest and then averted her eyes making her way down the street, as the sky grew dimmer in the twilight.

He lit a fire in the fireplace and pulled a book from the shelf before calling up to Johanna, “I like her.”

And he did, maybe a little too much.

Author’s note: Hello readers! This is my first fic for Judge Turpin. I think the name Edward suits him. Please reblog, comment and request fanfic ideas, as yours will get done, eventually!

[ad1thi]

2020 fic recs!! [Part 2]

part 2 of my 2020 fic recs!! as before, ive limited this to five fics per month; and fics are ordered by the month they were published. This spans fandoms and ships, and hopefully you find something you like!! credit for the idea goes to @iam93percentstardust

***

July

this is the start: @capnwinghead

Clark and Bruce continue raising the Wayne children and encounter a number of challenges along the way.

great minds (love alike): @starklysteve

Steve’s eyes flicks down to Tony’s knees on the floor.

“Are you – are you proposing to me with my ring for you?” Steve asks incredulously, eyes wide and confused.

---

Or, Steve finds Tony’s ring for him, Tony finds Steve’s ring for him. Panic happens.

Marvels Unsolved: @iam93percentstardust

Marvels Unsolved was never supposed to be this popular. It started off as a novelty web-series about Tony trying to convince Bucky about the existence of the supernatural—he firmly believed that if science could turn Uncle Steve from an actual shrimp to the god of muscles, then magic had to be out there—and then they’d started talking about an unsolved crime from the early 20th century after filming an episode one day, forgetting that the camera was still rolling, and had ended up with enough footage to make a second episode about real crimes. They had stayed pretty unknown throughout that first season but then true crime podcasts had exploded in popularity and Unsolved along with them.

it’s a small world after all: @maguna-stxrk

“Great speech.”

Smiling at the compliment, Tony turns around. “Thank y—”

And nearly drops his champagne flute.

His world comes to a stop.

They had only spent a night together, but Tony would recognize those baby blues anywhere.

It’s Steve.

Steve from Tony’s London business trip. Or, as Rhodey has become accustomed to calling him—The Soulmate That Got Away.

you’re in my blood, you’re in my veins: @nethandrake

Tony always figured that if they ever were to break up, it would be like a blaze. Scorching and hot and all-too blinding. Intense like the two of them have always been.

Instead, they break up on a Tuesday, with the rain pelting the windowpane and the midnight silence stifling.

August

Five Times Danny said he’d marry Steve (plus one): @five-wow

Danny humphs. “Look, all I’m saying is, I think I’d probably have married you by now.”

“I’d marry you, too,” Steve says.

Or: An experiment in how many times you can say something before you have to put your money where your mouth is.

Family (You’ve Always Had It): @/SunnyQueen

A black Camaro and a scowling blond was not what Junior had been expecting.

“Hi, sir. You didn’t have to pick me up.”

The blond looked up from the screen on his phone and groaned, completely ignoring Junior's statement. “You are right, I didn't have to."

Ode To Yoga Pants: @riotfalling

OR the continued terrible mating dance of Bucky and Tony, AKA when betting on your friends stops being fun

Through The Years: @hawkbucks

Tony brings home Natasha one day, proclaiming her to be his new sister.

Natasha takes this all in stride.

The broken road that led me home to you: @just-fandomthings

A documented list of conversations between Steve and Danny via text and phone call following the events of 10x22 "Aloha." (Where, even thousands of miles apart, Steve and Danny can't go without talking to each other.)

September

someday, we’ll pass it on to you: @starklysteve

Steve smiles.

Reaching up, he flattens his hand against his son’s far smaller one, curling gently around it. “You wanna be like him?”

“Da!” Peter agrees again.

One year old, and you already know who’s the best of us, Steve pauses to reflect, all his fears chased away by a fierce pride. “Your Dad’s coming home real soon,” he promises, “you should tell him that.”

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

Or, five times Peter did the repulsor pose as a toddler

+ one time he used the repulsors as an adult

Classic Sci Fi: @notdoingsohot

Bucky wakes up to Steve telling him he's lost his memory, but not to panic, it'll only last a few days. Easier said than done when the last thing Bucky remembers is fighting Hydra with the Howlies in WWII.

He tries to make the most of it however, and there's this guy... Tony Stark. It's pretty clear the guy hates Bucky's guts, which is unfortunate because god damn is he a sight.

He tries to figure out what he did to wrong Stark, but everyone just tells him he doesn't want to know.

They were right.

Blooms in Frost: @/Diomedes

Tony coughs up his first petal on the sixth of July. He has been married to the love of his life for two years.

Bury a Hanahaki corpse in earth and it will beget the most beautiful garden. All that love, it is said, must go somewhere.

Hanahaki AU: Established relationship

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

A Single Thread of Gold: @lovelyirony

Rhodey doesn't believe in love at first sight or any of that cheesy shit. He just wants someone who is nice, dependable, and safe.

Tony Stark is Housing Service's little problem for the school year, and now he's stuck in Rhodey's room because he's exploded the last two dorm rooms he's been in and won't live off-campus.

high roller, place your bet: @machi-kun

“Would you kiss Stark for a hundred bucks?”

“I would pay a hundred bucks to kiss him.”

October

press my luck: @omg-just-peachy

But... Steve is almost ten years his junior, and he could be with just about anyone, looking and acting like he does. And then there’s the not so small fact of Tony’s name and net worth and the fact that, okay, Tony had paid for Steve’s grad school tuition, and now he’s worried Steve feels obligated to stay. Or something.

Or, Tony is a billionaire, Steve is a grad student, and they learn to let themselves be taken care of.

see it with the lights out: @starklysteve

Tony goes on a business trip, and he does not - not at all - get jealous of Dodger hogging his husband's chest, a territory otherwise known as Tony's pillow.

(or, Steve goes on an Instagram spree and Tony misses home)

adulthood is looking both ways before you cross the street and getting hit by an airplane: @starkslovemail

It was a perfect plan, if Peter did say so himself.

The Buy In: @dracusfyre

For the ImagineTonyandBucky prompt: Mafia AU with Tony as the Boss (except he's a really good one, making the streets safe, keeping drugs away from kids etc) and Bucky as the detective sent to go undercover to catch him out but ends up realizing he's actually doing more good than harm and they end up falling in love

trinkets of your affection: @starklysteve

Kissed him once for every year I loved him, Steve had written.

By that count, Steve owes him five more kisses now.

Tony traces the words, hands trembling, and tips back a shot of Howard's ancient whiskey. None of it burns anymore.

One day, he'll have lived more days without Steve than there are words in the diary.

For the first time since he'd woken with shrapnel in his chest, Tony fears the future.

----------

Or, five things Tony keeps to remember Steve by, and one thing Steve gives him to remember.

November

“Hey Tony”: @riotfalling

Steve points out that Bucky never calls Tony by his actual name. Bucky doesn’t believe him, until he does.

Remembering You is Hard to Do: @lovelyirony

“The future’s crazy, honey-bear.”

Jim looks up.

“Why do you call me that?”

“Call you what?”

“Honey-bear. It’s weird.”

“Inside joke we have,” Tony says, chest tightening. “We thought those couples that have the lovey-dovey nicknames were ridiculous.”

overheard your heartbeat (calling me yours): @starklysteve

"Tony - "

"I wish I could promise to come home this time," he feels the armor crawl back down his arm, continuing unnoticed over Steve's red gloves, then up the blue uniform as Tony fights to keep Steve's gaze firmly fixed on him.

The last eyes Tony might get to see, and he wants to be lost in them.

In the end, his entire life boils down a few simple things: "JARVIS, take care of him for me."

----------

Or, Tony overhears a phonecall where Steve proposes, a battle happens, and a paper ring settles some misunderstandings.

i (really, really, really, really, really, really) like you.: @nethandrake

For as long as Steve can remember, he's been crushing on Tony Stark. The thing is, he's pretty sure Tony doesn't know Steve exists. And how could he? Steve's scrawny and little. He's a nobody compared to Tony who's Mr Popular and the son of a billionaire.

Or at least he thought so until Tony swings by the bakery Steve's mother happens to own to enlist Steve's help in finding the perfect Valentine's Day card.

The perfect Valentine's Day card for someone who isn't Steve.

One Song (My Heart Keeps Singing): @iam93percentstardust

When Thor is old enough to understand what a Heartsong is, he goes to his mother to ask her why he can’t understand the language his is in. He listens as she tells him about the first soulmates who couldn't understand their Heartsong until the day they meet, excited by the thought of a grand adventure, one that will take him across the cosmos in search of his One.

He’ll search all the Nine Realms if he has to.

December

Swiping Right: @s-horne

“Ouch. Definitely a hard pass for that one?”

Steve startled at the sudden comment from the row of chairs behind him and turned around. He’d been passing the time in the airport lounge by swiping through Tinder and had gotten lost in his own world. It was almost jarring to be pulled away from the screen of hot men and back into reality where the PA was screeching and there was noise everywhere.

Adjusting to the difference, Steve frowned. Wait, he knew that face. Oh, shit… he knew that face.

“No, no, it’s fine,” the man said before Steve could get out anything other than an embarrassed sort of yelp. Waving his hand through the air, the stranger smiled ruefully. “I get it. It’s the beard, isn’t it? True be told, it was a weird winter choice that year and I knew it would come back to hurt me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He knew it must have shown on his face and could feel himself flushing, panicked and embarrassed all at once. What were the odds of swiping left on someone literally sat behind him?

set your flight path home (to me): @starklysteve 

Tony puts down his welding torch. “I’m building you a plane.”

Stepping carefully over the gears and tools scattered about, Rhodey slowly makes his way to him.

“And when did you become an expert on how to build a plane?”

“Last night,” Tony grins.

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

Tony builds a plane, and Rhodey teaches Tony how to fly it. Or he would be teaching Tony, if Tony didn't distract him so much.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand: @thefourofswords

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids.

“Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.”

“What do you like in bed?”

*

Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

same time next year: @omg-just-peachy

“I forgot to ask. When’s your flight home?” Steve asks, draping his arm over Tony’s shoulder and settling in against him.

Tony ignores the knot that forms in his chest at the idea of it, leaving Steve again for his own impersonal apartment, his piles of books and projects and the nights without sleep.

“Day after tomorrow.”

Steve huffs a little sigh, then brings his lips to Tony’s neck. “Well, we’ll have to make the most of it, won’t we?”

Or, four (4) Christmases with two (2) idiots who can't admit they're in love.

rearrange my heart (to fit your smile): @starklysteve

"You dare," Howard's chair makes an ugly noise as it scrapes against the stone floors, the chatter of the room shifting into hushed whispers and stolen glances. "I am your father and your King!"

"My King is my husband," Tony tips his chin up, defiant. "And I refuse to hear you suggest that my husband has been anything other than good to me."

Next to him, he feels Steve's shoulders stiffen in surprise.

Howard's fist slams loud on the table. "Your husband does not even love you!"

Tony jerks back, burned. He knows that. Knows that Steve did not marry him for love – does not need any reminder of the cold truth, of what he desperately yearns for and can't even hope to have – but the harshness of Howard's words was scalding, and Tony can't afford for this to go any further.

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Or, King Steven marries Prince Tony, Tony is pretty sure he shouldn't panic when he falls in love with his own husband, and Steve tries his very best not to cause diplomatic crises.

Keyword: try