#second image is like. him thawing i guess

[cathackz]

Snowgrave Pink Addison. dont ask how he got out of the ring i dont have an answer

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Something Full-Bodied and Red

Did a thing. Here's period smut!

It hits you right as he says, “No need to bleed by yourself, my love.” Your jaw drops. You stare at him, in his words, all agog. “You… are you saying…?” “Offering my companionship during your trying times? Yes, I believe I am. You smell delicious, Eleanor. I’ve been thinking about devouring you all day.” No mistake as his gaze slides down to the extra padding beneath your trousers. Or the way his pupils eclipse the red irises.

Or: Aunt Flo comes to visit. Astarion is delighted to make her acquaintance.

You really should a known when Gale made an—objectively-speaking and you even knew it at the time—simple statement about the best path to take. The day is hotter than Satan’s ass crack, y’all are sweating and miserable, and the rage surges up in you like goddamn Plinian eruption.

You say something along the line of, “No one asked your opinion, and yet here we are, listening to you talk anyway.”

It’s too far. You know it. Knew it before you even opened your mouth in that split second judgment call.

Gale’s face falls before he picks it back up and resettles his blasé mask.

Shit goddamn fuck.

Everyone hears it, too. Even Astarion gives you a Look.

“I’m sorry, Gale,” you say. “I really am. I’m…that was an asshole thing to say.”

His smile is still a couple shades cooler than usual. “It’s alright. The heat is getting to us all, I believe.”

An olive branch, when you’re the one who snapped.

“I mean it. Heat or not, that was rude of me. ‘Specially since you’re right.”

Cause he is. Heat melts your brains to pudding, and you were about to stomp y’all past the correct intersection to take y’all back to the inn.

His smile thaws a touch. He inclines his head.

“Now you’ve done it,” Astarion says. “He’s going to be insufferable all day.”

“Being correct is not being insufferable,” Gale says, one finger held up, the spitting image of some college professor. “Especially when it saves all of us time and effort in this truly insufferable mugginess.”

Poor man don’t know muggy. That’s when the backs of your hands sweat. Muggy is when the air’s so wet it’s almost hard to breathe. It’s one-hundred-and-thirteen goddamn degrees Fahrenheit with ninety-five percent goddamn humidity.

But you keep that shit to yourself because you fucked up and he’s owed a dunk on you.

As y’all turn up the (correct, this time) road, Astarion sidles in. Gives you a glance and the smallest line creases his brow.

“’M okay,” you say.

He nods. Bumps his hand against yours in his totally-not-a-stray-cat way of asking for attention. You thread your fingers through his gloved ones, and the both of you pretend that don’t soften his entire posture.

The inn is only half full. They got alcove beds along the walls, so you and Astarion decide to share. The two of you set up the privacy screen, and he changes into sleep pants while your back is turned.

Cazador McFuckface is dead. Astarion is a free man, and y’all have been intimate. But you still give him his modesty, always; it seems to please him beyond words. You can tell in the soft sigh as you turn away and leave him to it. In the languid movements of his limbs as he finishes and slides onto the mattress (only grumbling a little at the poor quality of the linens). In the roundness of his eyes as he stretches out and waits for you to join him.

He's still a murder hobo and a thieving, snarking, asshole gremlin. But there’s more to him, now.

You fiddle with your trousers. It really is too hot to sleep in clothes; back home, you always slept bare. It’s how you landed on an alien ship buck-ass naked.

He seems to sense this dilemma. Murmurs, “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

And then gives you a saucy little wink, the dork.

So you shuck off all but your smallclothes (that he sewed for you; nothing says “You’re fine I guess” like a man sewing you some drawers) and scooch in after him. He shuffles closer to the wall while you reach up to untie the cord holding the bed curtain open.

It’s only the illusion of privacy—Lae’zel murmurs to Shadowheart across the room and Karlach’s familiar snores already fill the air. But it’s a mental thing, and you turn and Astarion snuggles into you.

“God that’s nice,” you say.

One benefit of him being undead is the man don’t produce body heat. Which means he’s nice and cool against you. Which was real weird at first (something air temperature shouldn’t move or speak), but it’s him and he’s safe, so this feels like him, like safety.

He groans in response—the downside of undead is the man don’t produce his own body heat. Which means his joints get achy unless he’s fed within the last day, or he’s got a nice, large lover blasting him with her own furnace heat.

You’re tired and vaguely hurting. Astarion likes to be the little spoon, and when he’s facing you, he koala’s onto your front. Face tucked in against your neck (or your cleavage; “you make a fantastic pillow, darling”), arms wrapped around your middle, legs all tangled with yours.

But it’s so damn hot, and the walking was too damn long. Your body thrums. Bastard won’t settle. You become too aware of his habitual breath fanning your skin. Of his coolness against you. The arm slung over your ribs.

It’s easy to imagine that mouth of his opening. Tongue snaking out to lap at you, blunt front teeth nipping up and up. Until he finds your lips and—

You shift.

His crotch is right there. Ain’t nothing going on, but you know now what he feels like when he presses against you. When he ruts against you, eyes closed to slits, forgetting to breathe. His hand around yours on his cock as he shows you how to pleasure him. The salty, bitter tang as he comes in your mouth—

“Shit,” you say and shift your legs. Astarion nuzzles against your neck but otherwise says nothing.

Y’all’ve had sex in public. Had sex in an alley. In an inn. But none of those was this close to y’all’s friends. Curtains muffle sound about as well as tent fabric, but they been pitching their tents away from your shared one for some time and for a damn reason. You always thought you were quiet. Turns out, with a partner, not so much (it’s the shit he says; his pick-up lines were so over-the-top they was kinda funny, but when he means it? Who-wee).

You sigh. It’s been a long day. Y’all need to sleep.

You try to shift your hips without dislodging him, hoping to find the right angle to ease the general achiness—

“That’s going to make it more difficult for me to trance, darling,” Astarion says against your skin.

(You don’t shiver. That would be too desperate. And even if you did, he don’t mention it.)

“Sorry,” you say. “Kinda restless. You wanna sleep in separate beds?” Then he looks up and even in the curtained gloom, his eyes pick up that red shine like a monster in the woods come to lurk.

Okay, so you absolutely shiver. You feel his smile, slow and syrupy, against your collarbone.

“Who said anything about leaving?” he says.

This man. What he does to you. You try to run your fingers through your hair, but it’s dark, you’re human, and you catch his ear instead.

Now he shudders. Presses a kiss to where your neck and shoulder meet.

“Are you…?” you say, because you ain’t always good at reading people and this man in particular is real good at getting himself misread on purpose.

His cool fingers slip down your belly to tease along your smallclothes as his mouth opens to suck on your neck (it’ll bruise). His fingers trace lower, lower…

You clasp a hand over your mouth.

“Offering to help you work through whatever has you so bothered?” he says.

Heat rushes between your legs. You are so horny for him it’s ridiculous. His hand lifts so he can trace along your outer thigh. Then his knee slots between your legs.

“Be a dear and bring this up over my hip, hmm?” he says, tapping a pattern on your thigh. “Open your legs for me, my love.”

“But everybody’s so close.”

He sucks at the damn love bite. He loves leaving marks on you. You think you like him leaving marks on you.

“So long as you stay quiet,” he says, voice gone soft and lilting as his fingers tease under your smallclothes to stroke lower.

The rest on AO3.

[rabbitenn]

Hello could I request imagines for a Tenn x Reader and momo x Reader with a Reader who has a crush on them but tries to deny it to avoid heartbreak (and struggles to talk to them)? Thank you🫶

OFF VOCAL.

Your feelings for him remain untold in the memories of your silent symphony.

ft. Kujo Tenn, Sunohara Momose x gn! reader.

cw/genre: fluff, some angst.

Thank you for requesting, hun ! I’m sorry this is so late, but I hope you can still enjoy it, mwah <3

♡ KUJO TENN

The realization settles over you like the mesmerizing rays of an eclipse at dawn; you know you shouldn’t stare directly at the sun’s blinding daze, and yet, your eyes can’t quite avert from his light.

But this is normal, right?

Everyone was attracted to the rose gold light his imaginary wings always seemed to give off. A radiance in thaw; his otherworldly aura helplessly drawing you in, until the honey of his voice wrapped its sweet warmth around you.

Kujo Tenn.

Everyone’s angel.

Your closest friend.

And yet, obviously, you were not immune to his charms.

Every time his gaze found yours, no matter if it was in a crowded concert hall or in the privacy of one of your rooms, the world around you faded; white noise and the blurry background of a discolored picture were all that remained around you and Tenn.

Thus, you have to build a wall between you and the alluring image of the angel.

You can absolutely not reveal the emotions your heart beats in.

Tenn and you have been friends for so long… And he’s a famous idol on top of that… You can’t taint his wings in stygian ink just because of your foolish desires.

And so, you close off your own invisible wings, the freefall awaiting you, a slow, bittersweet agony.

For bites of tongue replace words you used to share with him, in the comfort of sugar scented bedrooms and the soft colors of glazed donuts.

And Tenn knows.

That something is weighing on your mind.

That the sunshine that usually filtered through the trees as he spent time with you is now dimmed; the first droplets of a downpour falling as perennial foliage decays.

You thought your silence would be the silver locket to keep your diary secret, but to him, it’s like breathlessness as a heavy feeling constricts your chest.

Thorny vines, opening your throat to ask for help.

And despite it all, you decide to stitch bloody thread over your lips, keeping them sealed, no matter how much your heart shreds.

Luckily, an angel’s halo just happens to shine upon you, healing the parts of you you’re self destroying.

“[Y/n],” Tenn calls you, as a few quiet seconds pass with no answer from you following. “Are you alright?” He asks, those beautiful maroon eyes of his regarding you with concern.

You stare at him with a confused expression. Then, you get back to your senses.

“Yeah… I guess I was just spacing out.” You utter softly, avoiding his eyes.

Fiddling with your fingers, you reach out for the plate of donuts sitting between you two.

The atmosphere feels tense enough around you, you feel you’ll suffocate if you don’t busy yourself with something soon.

In that instant, your hand is held by someone else’s.

His touch is tender, so gentle, as his fingers intertwine with yours.

“Will you tell me what’s wrong?” Tenn prompts, thumb running over the back of your hand.

You stammer, eyes widening, heart pounding wildly against your ribcage, a telltale sound of the frenzy your mind is into.

“I-I… I’m… It’s n-nothing.” You finally manage.

The angelic idol gives you a knowing look, a smirk playing on his too tempting lips.

“Since when did you become so shy around me?” He asks, one of his hands brushing some strands away from your face.

You take in a sharp breath, heat flaring up on your cheeks.

“T-that’s not…” You try to turn your face away from him.

Because you know if you keep getting lost in his pretty quartz-like eyes, your lips won’t be able to keep away from his.

And, however, it seems that’s exactly what he wants.

Taking your chin in between his fingers, Tenn guides your face towards his.

“Why, [Y/n]?” He whispers, thumb running over your lower lip.

Your breath hitches, pupils dilating as your friend, who’s definitely more than that, holds your gaze.

You know what he’s referring to.

Your silence. The avoidance and pulling away from him you’ve been isolating in.

“I can’t…” You begin, as thick words lodge in your throat, the fear of ‘I can’t be with you’ ‘I can’t have my heart broken when you inevitably say no’, the silent chains constricting your throat.

Strands of hair weaved from wishes on a shooting star tickle your cheek.

Tenn’s forehead rests against yours, as his hands thread through your hair.

He utters your name.

Millimeters separate his lips from yours.

And the hardcovers of your secret diary seem to fall apart this close to him.

“I love you.” You inevitable breath, pupils blown wide, in the space between.

Your angel’s answer comes in the form of warmth and softness upon your lips.

His hands move to your waist, bringing you closer to him in the sunlit space of the room.

Against your better judgment, your arms wrap around his shoulders, your form melting into the sweetness of his perfect embrace.

You’ve longed for this.

So many days, so many nights, in which dreams came to a close with you wide eyed, as you came down from the daze of his pretty face appearing in your oneiric illusions.

And even if you want to believe it, but fear makes you deny it, he’s yearned for this too.

Because as much as Tenn strives to move the hearts of his fans and put bright smiles on their faces, you are always the first one he sings for.

And now, even if it’s in an unspoken way, the melody of him next to you is finally being relied.

Alas, seconds helplessly tick by, and one cannot exist without oxygen forever, as much as you can’t be without each other.

“I love you too, for a long time now, I have.” Are the words that follow your Tenn’s soft smile the moment you part.

There is no need for locked vaults between you and him anymore.

♡ SUNOHARA MOMOSE

You know you are a fool.

Both for even beginning to fathom your feelings could ever be returned, and for acting the way you’re doing now.

You’re just making yourself miserable and you know it.

And yet, you’re hell bent on denying it.

It’s so obvious to you now how he could never like you back in the same way you like him.

He’s one of Japan’s top idols, for crying out loud.

The fact that you just happen to know him since his college days doesn’t mean anything.

Therefore, you are determined to swat away any thoughts of infatuation that come your way.

No matter if that means entirely isolating from him.

Momo.

The friend that’s been with you for over seven years now.

You can’t ruin what you have; and what’s more: you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if you heard ‘no’ coming out of his lips.

So pulling away, being quiet… That’s what must be done.

You were always good at it, anyway.

And besides, what good would it do, if you ended up accidentally making your feelings known?

This is for the better.

You turn around in your bed, the city lights casting a dimmed glow around your room; dyeing it in shades of muted cyan.

Blue.

Quite fitting for the state you find yourself in.

Lying on your side, sheets rumpled, as numbness and doubt wrap around you.

Your eyes focus on your phone for a moment, carelessly thrown around your bed.

You’ve been ignoring all the messages today.

Especially the ones sent by him.

You just… couldn’t bring yourself to open them; it hurt seeing his enthusiastic typing and all the cute kaomojis. It’s as if… You were betraying him by being like usual, when it’s clear your feelings for him have shifted to another direction.

Not that you’ll ever reveal that to him.

And if you ignore it for long enough, it is sure to fade away.

A doodle in pink pencil, undoubtedly to be erased as paper yellows beneath the ticking of the clock.

You knew that better than anyone.

You have been wiped out too many times when you tried to speak from your heart, for it to become whole again.

Deep scars still remain, and they hurt enough as is to risk reopening them once more.

It’s better to wound the remaining untouched flesh of your choking heart, if you want to avoid shattering it completely.

Fuzzy thoughts turn into exhaustion, which leads you into restless dreams, under the light of a dimmed moon.

You awake to the strident sound of a ringtone blaring right by your ears.

Judging by the light around, it’s still early, and no sun is filtering through the curtains today.

Groggily, you pick up, if only to stop the annoying ringing.

“Yeah?” You yawn half asleep.

A second later, you pull the speaker away from you, the voice on the other side, on the edge of yelling.

“[Y/n]-chan! I finally got in touch! You haven’t been replying to my texts, ah I was so worried!”

“I…” You begin. “I’m fine, Momo, please don’t worry.” You reply, trying to keep your tone even.

On one hand, it really does warm your heart he’s been thinking about you.

On the other, you really do feel guilty for having worried him…

And besides, you’ve totally failed to avoid him.

“Are you sure, [Y/n]?” Melancholy is palpable in his usually perky tone. It makes you feel a pang of hurt on your chest.

“I… Yeah, I guess…” You trail off.

A few seconds of silence on the other end of the line.

Then:

“You know, if you’re not feeling well or there’s something worrying you, you can count on me.”

Why was Momo always so kind? It makes it so hard to keep denying what’s clearly love for him.

“I’ll figure it out.” You mumble, perhaps more to yourself than for him to hear.

“I know you will, [Y/n], but, you know, if you want some company… Just say the word.”

A nostalgic smile settles on your lips.

The truth is you would certainly like it, his company.

You let out a sigh.

“I’d love that.” You utter, truthfully.

One of Momo’s bright giggles can be heard on the other end.

A few fleeting ticks later, your doorbell rings.

“Open the door then, [Y/n]-chan.”

You can’t help the wide smile spreading on your face.

“What? Really? You’re here?”

You can practically see the nervous laugh he lets out.

“I… uh got worried when you didn’t reply and I thought maybe you were sick, so I… kinda bought many of your favorite snacks… yeah…”

He’s too cute.

With that same dopey grin on your face, you open the door.

Even if you can’t make your feelings known for now, you suppose it’s alright to indulge in the tight hug he gives you.

You certainly needed one from him right now.

[plvtosun]

blanca has a playlist now!

it’s a little over an hour long, + i made one on youtube for anyone who wants to listen but doesn’t use spotify. there’s 18 songs, about half of them are in spanish. i couldn’t find any spanish/english lyric videos so sorry about that </3 but i did put in some mvs that i thought were cool on the youtube playlist. (except for the pretty woman one lmao the message at the end is good but it’s uhhh… kinda weird lol so feel free to ignore it and just listen to the song)

background for the songs below the cut if anyone’s curious!

songs 2-11 are basically just blanca and her experiences that made her who she is + her personality.

songs with [*] are the ones i recommend watching the music videos for cause i think they’re pretty cool :b

i’m from LA - self explanatory right?? lol

son mis locuras - blanca’s inner monologue while she’s still living with her family, i guess? nothing super deep. i like the line “me dicen ‘nena, te pareces a tu abuela’” (“they tell me ‘baby, you look like your grandma’”) because blanca’s named after her maternal grandma, so that’s a fun coincidence with her story and the song that i didn’t even think of when i added it to her playlist at first tbh

maría la curandera - it’s like her favorite tía in mexico teaching her about doing limpias (spiritual cleansings) for herself when she visited as a kid. cozy comforting vibe overall

cumbia feminista, mujer moderna, whore - these are grouped together because they deal with purity culture, which is something blanca had to deal with her whole life and it felt like it got worse the older she got. people trying to dictate what she wore, how she expressed herself, being catcalled and shamed, all that fun stuff :))) whore specifically relates to her dynamic with someone from her past who tried to put his idealized image onto her and got mad when it didn’t line up with who she actually is. she blares that song when she’s reminiscing and she looooves shouting “you love me for everything you hate me for” at the top of her lungs.

crumbling down → recuérdame → la llorona* - things are rough, but she’s alright for the most part now that she’s living on her own finally. → death of the tía she was close to, she struggles with it a lot because she felt like no one else really understood and accepted her fully. → remembering the time she was visiting said tía and how she and her cousin saw la llorona! the song comforts her because it’s a reminder and again, she thought la llorona was kind of pretty. (she wonders if la llorona scared the shit out of her cousin on purpose, to make him drop her instead of tossing her into the river to fuck with her…)

la vida es un sueño* - she lives life how the hell she wants! she’s over people trying to take advantage of her and tell her how to act. she’s angry and tired and done. side note, my favorite lines are “corazón sangrado, me has abandonado / necesito una limpia, que ando embrujado” (“bleeding heart, you abandoned me / i need a cleansing, because i’m cursed”)

songs 12-18 are the mushy toca (toki/blanca, coincidentally this means “touch” in spanish!) songs LOLLL i think the lyrics are pretty obvious so i won’t go into detail too much. i’ll add in (b) and (t) to show whose pov the songs are from

can’t get you out of my head (b) - “…shit i have a crush.”

oh, pretty woman (t) - HAHA he has one too you shy tsundere loser deal with it he likes you >:) pay attention to him dammit!

afraid (t) - ohhh she’s scared. but why? hm. alright

your sweet six six six (t) - the LET ME IN eric andre meme. he’ll be nice :( give him a chance don’t pass this up c’mon

sour candy (b) - give her a second to thaw out, she’ll get there

mary on a cross (t) - another nudge. he’s not scared off at all.

love song (b) - :)

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Nine

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: not an ending, but a middle.

this chapter was ridiculously difficult to write and edit. it tops out at 7.5k words so… beware

***

Cassian and Nesta make full use of the summer house without his friends there, making love on every other surface just because they’re all alone and they can. Nesta shows a soft spot in particular for having sex in Cassian’s old bed, proving to him that she can be just as sentimental as he is.

Which is how they end up sprawled naked on the living room floor early the next morning, fast asleep in each other’s arms with nothing but a throw blanket to cover them.

Cassian is woken up by the sound of the front door being flung open, followed promptly by a feminine yelp as the intruder catches sight of the tangled couple in the living room. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

Cassian whips his head up to find who interrupted his sleep, and his nostrils flare in shock when he sees Mor at the entryway. He carefully but swiftly moves his arm out from under Nesta’s head and replaces it with a nearby pillow before starting to stand up. “What the hell are you doing—”

“Fuck no, I can see your ass—No, now I can see your dick!” Mor squeals in disgust, promptly spinning around and clapping her hands over her eyes like she can burn the image out of her mind.

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Cassian whisper-hisses at her, throwing a worried glance at Nesta’s still sleeping form. She doesn’t shift an inch.

Scooping up his flannel sleep pants from the floor, Cassian pulls them on while Mor makes gagging noises with her back to him.

Spying a pair of underwear flung over the arm of a chair, she bends to pick them up with two pinched fingers and turns to face Cassian, who’s now appropriately covered. Heavy judgment wrinkles her nose as she casts a glance to the owner of the panties, then to Cassian. “Granny panties, Cass? Is this what your sex life has been reduced to?”

“Don’t touch Nesta’s underwear.” He stalks over to Mor and snatches them out of her hand, before grabbing her by the elbow and dragging her off into the kitchen.

She shakes him off once they’re out of earshot from Nesta and takes a seat across from him at the wooden breakfast table. She brushes her golden hair over a shoulder and smirks. “Someone’s been having fun on their own while waiting for the rest of the party to arrive.”

“What are you doing here?” Cassian repeats.

Mor waves a languid hand dismissively. “I ended up taking a commercial flight. I wasn’t a fan of being stuck on the same private plane as Az and Elain.”

Cassian blows out a tight breath, wishing he’d at least gotten some warning before his plans for the day were ruined. Plans that included taking Nesta in the lake before breakfast.

“But seriously,” Mor glances over her shoulder in the direction of the living room, “what’s up with the prude panties? I thought you would’ve thawed that ice pussy by n…” She trails off at the look on Cassian’s face, and a glimpse of fear crosses her own face. She forces a nervous laugh and twists her fingers together. “I suddenly remember making a promise a while ago,” she murmurs while staring down at the table.

“It’s a good thing you remember,” Cassian says stoically, “because I was just about to bring it up.”

“I know, I know, no criticizing your girlfriend.” Mor rolls her eyes.

“It’s about a lot more than that,” he grits. “It’s about how you’re only wary of her because you don’t trust me to choose who I give my love to. It’s about how you don’t respect my decision enough to maintain boundaries when you talk about Nesta.”

For once, Mor looks put off her game. “I never meant it like that,” she tries to say.

“That’s what it looks like,” Cassian retorts. “It looks like you’re judging someone you have no right to judge, like you’re trying to protect me from an imaginary threat.”

Mor coughs aloud. “Do I really need a scolding for a girl I see maybe twice a year? I haven’t even thought about Nesta since the New Year’s party.”

“It’s not a scolding,” Cassian says firmly. “It’s an order to be on your best behavior for the duration of this vacation, because the sisters and I went through a lot to get Nesta to come here. There will be no catfights, or backtalk, or rude looks and snide tones until we’ve returned home. The same applies for everyone else once they get here.”

“Or, how about this? I’ll stop making ice pussy jokes if you stop being this…” Mor waves a hand up and down at Cassian’s shirtless figure with a grimace, “unrecognizable creature with the tension of a forty year old single dad.”

Is Cassian tense? Of course he’s fucking tense. The last time he convinced Nesta to go to a family event with him was Christmas Eve, and he’s never letting that mistake be repeated ever again. His glare confirms it.

“Morrigan,” he says lowly with a hint of warning.

“Okay, okay,” she exclaims, throwing her hands up in surrender. “But for the record, I’ve never said anything rude to your girlfriend’s face, and I never plan to.”

Cassian crosses his brown arms across his chest. “No, you’ve only done it to my face.”

Guilt crosses Mor’s features for the quickest second. “Oh.” She bites her bottom lip. “In that case, I’ll pull back from now on.”

He releases a terse breath. “Good.” Now to hammer the message into anyone else who might threaten the quiet solitude he and Nesta have found here.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she adds somewhat apologetically. “You know I just want the best for you.”

“And you know I already know what’s best for me.”

Mor dips her head in reluctant acknowledgment. “Can we go back to normal, then? I don’t like feeling like your adversary.”

Cassian’s shoulders slump in relief, and his crossed arms fall away. “Of course, Mor.”

Like flipping a switch, Mor claps her hands together. “Good. I left my luggage in the rental car and it’s super heavy; I brought enough clothes for three outfit changes a day. Why don’t you put those big strong muscles to work while I get settled into my room?”

Before Cassian can object, she’s out of her seat and flouncing out of the kitchen. From the entry hall, Cassian can hear Mor say perkily, “Good morning, Nesta! Love the undies.”

Cassian drops his head onto the table with a thud, lifts it, then drops it again. Mor is going to be a work in progress.

“You okay?” A voice makes Cassian look up from the wooden table. Nesta stands in the kitchen entryway wearing nothing but Cassian’s shirt, and her hair is a rumpled mess from sleep. Her hands twisting into the hem of his tee tells him she couldn’t be less excited about Mor’s early arrival, though the rest of her doesn’t show it.

Exhausted apprehensiveness drops in Cassian’s gut. “How much of that did you hear?” he asks warily.

“Not much. I just woke up a minute ago and heard your voices.” She comes over to him and wraps a comforting arm around his shoulder. “Why, were you guys arguing?”

Cassian slings his arm around Nesta’s waist, basking in her warmth. “Not exactly.”

She frowns. “Was it about me?”

“It was about Mor.”

She nudges him. “Will you tell me about it?”

“No,” he quips, yanking her down onto his lap. He pecks a kiss onto her lips. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

Nesta hums to herself. “So our morning plans are out the window?” she asks, raising a brow.

“Yup.”

“Does Mor actually like my undies?”

“Nope.”

***

The rest of Cassian’s friends and Nesta’s family arrive by late afternoon, piling out of a dark SUV in a frenzy of noise and colors. Nesta forgot how… many of them there were.

She lets Cassian and Mor handle the greetings, choosing to observe everyone from her spot near the stairs.

Azriel is the first to catch her eyes. He looks the same as ever, dressed head to toe in black even in the middle of a heat wave. Elain is an overdressed peacock in comparison to him, not that anyone would be comparing them, because they carefully stand at opposite ends of the entry hall.

He sends a simple nod Nesta’s way, which makes her narrow her eyes. Does he think he can act too cool for her just because they haven’t talked in a while? Idiot.

Feyre notices Nesta next and waves her arms wildly. “Get over here!”

Nesta reluctantly pulls away from the banister and nears their group, offering only a half smile to everyone there before hiding behind her sisters. Cassian cuts a glance her way in solidarity, and it feels like a pillar of reinforcement against her wavering self. She scrambles around for a solid ten seconds for something to say, either to her sisters or to the whole group, and finally comes up with, “What are we having for dinner?”

“That’s still hours away,” Rhysand assures. “Everyone scram and put your shit up first.”

“The girl has a point,” Amren grumbles. “I’m starving.”

“Yeah, Rhys, can we have an early dinner?” Mor whines.

And just like that, Nesta has melted into the background again. Which might be for the best, considering how loud it is right now.

Feeling overwhelmed, Nesta checks on Feyre and Elain to make sure they’re not paying attention to her, and then meets Cassian’s gaze through all the luggage and bodies. Tilting her head toward the back door to let him know that she’s leaving, she silently slips down the hall and out of the house.

Outside in the gardens, the light breeze soothes her heightened senses. It’s hot as shit at this hour, but she’ll take it for the peace and quiet.

Only a few minutes into her getaway, however, Nesta hears the porch door open behind her. Her shoulders stiffen when she hears footsteps that don’t belong to Cassian. There goes her peace and quiet.

Nesta is surprised to find Amren slinking up to her side, her small head appearing at Nesta’s shoulder.

Discomfort crawls through Nesta’s bones at the woman’s unexpected presence. It’s a subtle sense of wrongness, like being in the proximity of a predator but not having enough information to guess how they’ll attack.

“Hiding out from Rhysie’s big bad inner circle?” Amren taunts.

Nesta stiffens. Just because it’s true doesn’t mean it needs to be thrown in her face.

“I suppose I can’t blame you,” she goes on. “We can be a scary group.”

“I’m not scared of anybody,” Nesta says, keeping her focus glued to the trees’ cherry blossoms. “I just wanted fresh air.”

“And I’ve wanted to find out what Cassian sees in you ever since he gave me that verbal lashing about being nice to his new girlfriend.” Amren turns to face Nesta fully, closing in. “What kind of pussy grip can a woman have to make Cassian of all men heel?” She hisses in a thoughtful breath through her teeth.

Nesta only shrugs, but her interest is piqued at the idea of Cassian warning Amren away from her. She definitely doesn’t need the protection, and once would have found it offensive, but… she likes the idea of someone standing up for her, being unapologetically on her side even if they have no good reason to do it. The only other times she can remember feeling defended were brief, subtle childhood instances with Feyre and Elain, and that was only because blood instinctively defends blood. It’s different to feel chosen. It makes her chest crack.

When Nesta doesn’t respond, Amren throws out, “Are you on the spectrum or what?”

Nesta again doesn’t reply.

“No one mentioned it, but I assumed as soon as I saw you.”

“It’s rude to make assumptions,” Nesta says, her voice cool as a running river.

Amren barks a laugh that sounds like a whip lashing. “I like you, girl.”

Nesta finally meets Amren’s silver gaze and states, “I don’t like you.” Her tone is blunt, to the point—but if she has to participate in this twisted version of small talk, then she should at least get to be honest.

Amren laughs aloud again, as if that genuinely amuses her. Nesta doesn’t know how amused Amren will be when she realizes that Nesta is serious.

She shrugs to herself, turning back to face the garden. It isn’t her problem, she decides.

***

“Even for you, this is overprotective.” Rhys’s voice comes from behind Cassian, who stands at the sliding glass door at the back of the kitchen that peers out onto the gardens. He’s been watching Amren converse with Nesta for the last seven minutes—or rather, he’s been watching Nesta, inspecting her body language to gauge her discomfort.

It was a struggle not to hold his arm across the back door and block Amren from following after Nesta earlier. Amren had the look of a cat going out to play with a new toy, and Cassian had nearly snarled at her for it until she gave him that expression: the raised brow and sneer that said Really, Cassian? Pathetic.

It made him think of how Nesta would feel if she knew he was trying to physically keep people away from her, and he managed to have enough shame to move aside and let Amren pass with only a warning look.

So far though, it looks like Nesta is handling herself just fine. He should’ve known better than to underestimate her.

When Rhys doesn’t get a response, he comes up to stand at Cassian’s side and get a look through the glass door. “I never thought you’d be applying your passion for security to your damn girlfriend.” Rhys lets out a low whistle.

Without taking his eyes off Nesta and Amren, Cassian tells Rhys, “Protecting her is protecting myself. When she gets hurt, I feel it twofold.” And he really doesn’t want to be hurt on this vacation. Nesta already thinks he’s a crybaby as it is.

Rhys is silent for a long minute, as if he can’t deny that he would feel the same way for his own girlfriend. Eventually he says, “I might finally understand what’s going on in your brain whenever you’re around her.”

Cassian only nods.

Rhysand claps his hand down suddenly on Cassian’s shoulder, breaking the somberness of his confession. “Call them in to help make dinner,” Rhys orders. “I want all hands on deck tonight.”

Cassian looks at his brother with narrowed eyes. “And what will you be doing to help?”

“I’ll be watching the game on the nice TV that I paid for, in the beautiful new living room I also paid for.”

“Bastard.”

***

Nesta and Azriel help prepare dinner in silence. Their quiet acknowledgment of each other is better than any words could be, but it’s all shattered when Mor dumps a serving platter on the counter right next to Azriel.

“Ooh, ricotta-stuffed mushrooms!” She grabs a handful and starts arranging them onto her platter. “Az, how was your mystery weekend away? I haven’t seen you since you got back.”

Azriel shares an unreadable glance with Nesta before sliding his chicken parmesan dish toward her and saying loudly, “Wow, is that football?” He promptly turns around and walks out of the kitchen.

Nesta glares after him in disbelief, but Azriel can’t hear her wordless cries for help because he’s already in the living room.

Left alone at the kitchen counter with Morrigan, Nesta keeps wiping at the wine glasses that have been gathering dust in the cupboards. From the corner of her eye, she can see that Mor’s mouth is tightened into a displeased line.

Not that Nesta isn’t grateful for it, but Mor usually isn’t one to keep her mouth shut. She wonders if something is wrong that she doesn’t know about. “You look constipated,” Nesta tells Mor under her breath. “Anything you want to get out?”

Mor only scoffs in indignation. Then she shakes her head and mutters to herself, “I promised not to say anything.”

Now Nesta is really intrigued. “Promised who?” she prods. “Cassian?”

“Like you don’t know about it.” Mor rolls her dark eyes.

Nesta doesn’t know, though after Amren’s comment earlier she might have a hint. “I would prefer you be honest with me rather than follow Cassian’s orders.”

“That’s funny, so do I.” Mor plucks up a stuffed mushroom and shoves it into her mouth.

Nesta thinks back to how she woke up to Cassian and Mor’s voices lowered in seriousness. After what Nesta overheard on New Year’s Eve, it’s no secret that Morrigan doesn’t care for her, but she suddenly has the urge to have it said to her face. “Well, if you want to stop holding back with me, I won’t tell.”

Morrigan sets down her mushroom platter with a thump, turning to face Nesta like she’s done her a personal wrong. “You know what I know about you, Nesta?” Mor says. “I know that Cassian has changed since he’s gotten with you. I know that he’s more serious whenever he’s around you. I know that you don’t love him as much as he loves you. How can Cassian expect me to trust someone that doesn’t want to be around his own family? How can he expect me to trust you with his heart? Not that I’m allowed to be saying any of this, because I’m supposed to be hiding my feelings about you to stop my best friend from hating me.”

It’s crazy how a year ago those words would have been enough to make Nesta retreat to her room and never come out again. Each statement pricks like a shard of glass against her skin, though none of them are accurate or true.

And yet Nesta finds herself hurting more for Cassian than for herself. She feels her familiar old mask go up around her face and harden there.

“It sounds like your problem is more with Cassian than it is with me,” Nesta says stoically. “Because I won’t be going through any trials to prove myself. I have nothing to prove. I don’t care if you like me or not, if you’re nice to my face or cruel behind my back—but it’s rude to shit over your friend’s life choices like that. He’ll stop trusting you if you keep it up, and it won’t be my fault when it happens,” Nesta finishes. She wordlessly gathers the wine glasses in her hands and abandons a silent Morrigan to go set the table.

Nesta knows the dynamic at dinner is off with her presence there.

For once, Cassian’s priorities lie somewhere other than laughing with his friends. He keeps a protective hand on Nesta’s thigh from the moment they take their seats, and he only removes it when he’s filling her plate with food.

With memories of Christmas dinner hanging over all of them, Cassian looks like a bodyguard prepared for attack— except he’s contributing to a good half of the tension at the table.

“How was the drive here?” Feyre pokes at the two of them in an attempt to break the ice. Nesta glances to Cassian for his response, but his attention is taken by the platter of bread rolls.

Sighing internally, Nesta answers, “Better than yours, that’s for sure.”

Everyone laughs hesitantly. A steaming bread roll then appears on Nesta’s plate, golden and fluffy with a buttery aroma; one glance at the rest of the bread tells her it was the biggest roll in the pile.

Nesta drops her walls enough to give Cassian a small smile and an arm rub of appreciation, and then she reaches straight for the bottle of wine.

She loves Cassian and hates this dinner too much to allow this to go on.

After filling Cassian’s empty glass high with Merlot, Nesta presses it into his free hand with a subtle kiss on his cheek. “Relax a little,” she murmurs into his ear.

It takes ten minutes and two full glasses for her plan to take effect, but relax Cassian does. Like oil slipping through rusted gears, the tension in the room slowly unwinds and natural conversation starts to flow.

“You guys will not believe what I had to walk in on this morning,” Mor announces at one point during the meal.

“Yeah, yeah, Cassian’s ass and dick, we’ve already heard,” Amren says.

Cassian’s glare at Mor is more lighthearted than life-threatening. “This is why I can’t talk to you anymore,” he states, pointing a finger at her. Nesta is so glad for the lack of tension in his shoulders that she doesn’t even care if everyone basically knows about her having sex in the living room.

With Cassian acting more like his normal self, the pressure to make useless small talk is no longer on her. Nesta is content to watch everybody share stories and laughter, but for once she doesn’t feel like an audience member on the outside looking in. Maybe it’s because no matter how much Cassian drinks, his hand stays steady on her leg the whole night, keeping her rooted there with everybody else. He doesn’t let her fade into the background for a second.

“What’s that on your wrist, Az?” Mor’s voice rings from one head of the table. Azriel snatches his hand back in a flash before Mor can reach for it. From his other side, Nesta grabs it smoothly out of the air to take a look at the cause of Mor’s question.

She raises her brow at the sight of three colorful bracelets lining Azriel’s right wrist.

Az tries to pull his hand away, but Nesta’s hold is tight. Even if the signature of the maker wasn’t stamped onto one of the childish bracelets, she would know who had made them with one glance.

“What does it say?” Mor asks her.

“Nothing. Just some beads.” Nesta pulls Azriel’s dark sleeve over the beads that spell out GWYN’S BITCH and gives his arm a little pat. She sincerely hopes Elain is thoroughly over Azriel by now.

“Was that Rainbow Loom I saw? Since when did you wear kiddy bracelets?” Mor snorts at Az.

Nesta’s attention is pulled away from their conversation by a heavy head falling onto her shoulder. “Nestaaa,” Cassian slurs, slumping against her side.

Blushing at the attention he’s drawing to her, Nesta tries to shove a drunk Cassian back upright. “I think we need to get you to bed.”

“Oh really? Promise you’ll tuck me in?” He tries to wink at her, but it comes off as a strained blink.

He looks ridiculous. It isn’t helping the blush on her cheeks, though.

“I promise.” Nesta shoves her finished plate aside and grabs Cassian by the bicep, standing up and attempting to drag him with her. “Come on, I’ll take you right now.”

Mor is quick to get to her feet. “We can take him,” she offers eagerly.

“Who’s we?” Azriel mutters. Nesta hears a hard stomp, and then Az is coughing, jumping out of his seat after Mor. “Yeah, we’ll take him,” he says.

Nesta reluctantly lets Cassian slip out of her grasp as Morrigan and Azriel take one of his arms from either side.

“Wait, but I want Nesta to tuck me in!” Cassian twists around as he’s dragged away, drunkenly finding Nesta’s gaze. He’s pouting.

Affection battles with secondhand embarrassment and wins. “I’ll be right there,” she promises with a wave. As soon as Mor and Azriel accomplish whatever it is they’re trying to accomplish. Her voice flattens into a cold warning when she adds after them, “Be careful with him.”

Daring a quick glance back at the table, Nesta wants to cringe when she meets everyone else’s eyes. Rhysand looks highly amused. Feyre looks disturbed, and Elain looks glum with envy, the love-obsessed bitch. Amren is Amren.

After dinner is over, dishes duty is handed over to Rhysand and Amren goes off to bed complaining about beauty sleep, which leaves Nesta alone with her sisters in the foyer.

She doesn’t quite know how, but she ends up forgetting her promise to Cassian and following the girls out to the front porch for some fresh air instead. The sun has long since set, taking some of the summer heat with it, but the air is still stuffy as the three of them settle down onto hand-painted wooden chairs. Lanterns on the porch are lit up to keep the darkness away, and the lake before them gleams with the reflection of the rising moon.

Feyre is the first to speak, her voice hesitant. “It’s hot out tonight, isn’t it?”

“I’m not doing this,” Elain announces. She stands abruptly from her chair and goes back inside.

Nesta and Feyre stare wide-eyed after the swinging front door, but a minute later Elain returns holding a decanter and three crystal glasses. She sets the glasses down on a side table and starts pouring. “It’s not really Tennessee without a strong whiskey,” she says to no one. “And I’m way too sober right now to handle this vacation.” The third glass gets an extra finger of liquor, and it ends up in Elain’s hand. She passes the other two to Nesta and Feyre before settling back into her seat.

Nesta grimaces at the drink in her hand without even tasting it. She hates most alcohol, but strong alcohol especially. For the sake of her sisters, however, she throws back half the glass without thinking.

Liquid fire scalds her tongue and throat, and she groans aloud. Instant regret.

Elain has no such issues downing her liquor. “Did you know,” she says after swallowing a gulp of whiskey like it’s apple juice, “that our old place is just a mile and a half that way?” She waves with her glass toward the back gardens.

“Is it really that close?” A frown wrinkles Feyre’s brow, like the memory of their old home might taint the perfect life she has now.

“Yes,” Nesta confirms. She doesn’t offer anything else.

Feyre shudders despite the temperature. “I hate even thinking about it. It’s so depressing. Reminds me of Papa.”

Which is also depressing, Nesta thinks to herself.

“It wasn’t depressing for me,” Elain says, chin tilted up in defiance.

That doesn’t surprise Nesta. Even in the depths of their father’s patheticness, he was Elain’s favorite man on earth.

Nesta used to wonder how her papa would have reacted if Elain was the one with crippling endometriosis pain every month instead of her. Would he have ignored her cries like he ignored Nesta’s, or would he have come running to her aid?

It’s not a question that’s worth Nesta’s time and energy, though. Not when the man himself has long been six feet under. Instead she pokes at Elain, “Then why did you hide your background from every guy you met like you were ashamed of it?”

“I was ashamed,” Elain says primly, “but that doesn’t mean I hated all of it. We didn’t all grow up with a ten foot stick up our ass; at least I could appreciate what we had without taking my attitude out on everybody else.”

The whiskey must be working quickly, because Nesta can’t hold back an unseemly snort. “There you go again,” she drawls in a cutting tone, pointing an accusing finger with the hand that holds her glass at Elain. “Dishing out shit when you can’t take it back. At least not without crying.”

Feyre, who was trying to hide her cringe with the rim of her drink, now perks up with eagerness. “She does do that, doesn’t she?” she exclaims. “I thought I was the only one who noticed.”

Elain’s lips twist into an indignant sneer. “What’s this dynamic now, why’s everyone ganging up on me?”

Nesta mutters, “Because you need to hear it every now and then.” Turning to Feyre, she adds, “God, she can be fucking annoying.”

“Oh, like you’re everyone’s favorite person to be around?” Elain scoffs.

“At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. That’s called a con artist, Elain. You’re a con artist.”

There’s stunned silence for a tense moment—and it’s broken by full laughter. Elain is chuckling sweetly as she says, “Well, I suppose it’s okay if only you two are the ones who notice it. It can be our little secret.” She presses a finger to her pink lips.

Feyre giggles along at that too, but Nesta remains quiet. Too sober for the current mood, perhaps. “Do you think someone will notice at one point?” she asks Elain. “That the smiles and Southern charm and—the kindness...” She doesn’t know how to feel about that word in relation to Elain. “Do you think someone will notice that that’s not all there is to you?”

Elain’s grinning face freezes quicker than an actress’s. “No one will know,” she answers smoothly, “because I’m not going to be with anyone else for a while.”

At the confused silence filled only by the chirp of cicadas, Elain supplements, “I’m trying out the single life.”

Nesta meets Feyre’s eyes, and it only catalyzes the sound quelling up in her throat. At the same moment, the two sisters burst into cackling laughter. Well, Feyre cackles. Nesta makes a noise that imitates a dying whale.

“I’m serious,” Elain insists, glaring at them. “If Nesta could spend all those years living like a widowed hag, why can’t I? I don’t need men to live.”

Nesta’s laughter sours at the insult, and she turns to Elain with seriousness in her tone. “No one needs anyone else, Elain—but you treat loneliness like a leper from the Middle Ages. Are you even happy for me and Cassian beneath all that jealousy?”

Elain shifts uncomfortably in her chair and mutters, “Of course I’m happy for you two.” And then she adds in a much quieter voice, “Deep, deep down.”

“Is that what was wrong with you on New Year’s?” Feyre asks gently. “You were jealous?”

Nesta raises a brow; she didn’t know this.

“I wasn’t exactly having fun watching you two suck face right after getting dumped by Azriel,” Elain tells Nesta. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not happy for you. I just…I’m not used to being the lonely one.” She huffs out a sigh and reaches for the decanter again. “If anyone should be in a happy and healthy relationship right now, it should be me.”

Feyre turns to Nesta and whispers too loudly, “You’re right, she is fucking annoying.”

“Don’t get too friendly; so are you.”

Feyre leans away from Nesta in affront. “I didn’t even do anything this time!”

“You don’t need to do anything for Nesta to think she’s better than us,” Elain chimes in.

The three of them break out into bickering, which soon devolves into hysterical laughter, which then morphs into a comfortable silence—which doesn’t last long until they’re bickering again. They spend the rest of the night going in small circles like that over their whiskey, occasionally taking breaks to talk of more serious things: Elain’s flower shop is finally starting to pick up business, but expenses are still too high. Nesta is worried about Cassian being all alone in Italy by himself, but she’ll never show it to him. Feyre’s work at the children’s art studio is making her seriously consider having kids (“Don’t you dare, you’re way too young,” Nesta threatens).

Each of them reveals that they miss at least one of their shitty parents these days.

Maybe it’s because they’re under the same night sky that they spent their childhoods under, but if Nesta closes her eyes, it’s like she’s seventeen again, letting her sisters stay up and talk her ear off even though it’s a weeknight.

***

The lack of Nesta in Cassian’s bed must stop him from succumbing to deep sleep, because his nap is hazy and doesn’t last more than a half hour. When he blinks awake, the fog of wine from earlier has mostly cleared away and the lamps in his room are lit. Mor sits on the bay window seat and Azriel lounges on a chair nearby, both of them murmuring quietly to each other.

Noticing Cassian’s movement, Az turns away from Mor and drawls, “That was quick.”

Groaning, Cassian rubs at his eyes and sits up straight. His shirt and jeans are flung on the floor, and he can only assume he took them off himself before collapsing into bed.

Holding the thin blanket to his chest, he demands, “What are you guys doing here?”

“Oh, now he has modesty,” Mor grumbles.

Cassian grabs his wrinkled shirt from the floor and shrugs it on before repeating his question. “What are you doing here, and where’s Nesta?”

“Don’t know,” Az shrugs from his chair. “But Mor wanted us to talk alone, so Nesta probably doesn’t need to be here.”

Growing wary, Cassian straightens up against the headboard. “Talk about what?”

Mor’s words take him by surprise. “I wanted to apologize.” She straightens up in her seat and throws a cautious glance at Azriel. “And I wanted Az with me for moral support.”

Az rolls his eyes to himself, likely considering the task beneath him.

“I didn’t take your words that seriously this morning,” Mor goes on, “but I’m taking them seriously now. Someone made me realize that I’ve been blaming your—girlfriend... for our relationship changing when I’m the one who’s been pushing you away the whole time. While you were falling in love, I wasn’t there for you. I didn’t trust you to find love without my input, and I didn’t respect you when you did.” Tears line her dark eyes, taking Cassian aback. “I’m sorry,” she says weakly. “Please don’t hate me.”

A headache takes root in Cassian’s temples, and he has to shut his eyes against the dull thudding. “I could never hate you, Mor,” he says past the lump in his throat. That was never the problem, though her words have eased some of the pent up frustration in his chest.

Cassian lets out a long-suffering sigh. “It’s not just you. It’s every single one of us. We’ve known each other so long, we’re so fucking entangled in each other, that even when I’m living by myself up in my cabin I feel like I can’t get away from it.” He stares out the window like he might find some relief there. “That’s why I’m going overseas. To get some space from all of this.” He waves between the three of them and laughs bitterly. “We created this incestuous little circle and now we don’t know how to care about anyone outside of it.”

He catches Az frowning, fingers toying with one of the bracelets on his wrist that Cassian spied earlier.

Mor sniffs away a lingering tear. “What about Nesta, then? Where does she factor in?”

Cassian’s mouth turns down in a distasteful frown. He still doesn’t like that he has to leave without her, but the fact that he doesn’t like it is only more proof that he needs to do it. “I can’t let Nesta be a part of me,” he answers. “I need to be all of me.”

Only once he learns how to do that can he be the friend and lover that the people in his life deserve.

***

Nesta wakes up the next dawn not on a hard chair, but in a soft bed. The smell of Cassian lingers on the sheets wrapped around her, and she blinks blearily as she tries to remember the events of last night.

Feyre fell asleep first. Elain and Nesta were just going to close their eyes for a moment and take a brief rest as well, but the next thing Nesta knew Cassian was helping her take out her contacts and laying her head against a pillow. Now the sun is dawning and she has a pounding headache. She needs at least another ten hours of sleep before she’ll be fit to face the world again.

She looks around for her phone to check the time and spots it plugged into the charger on the bedside table. Despite feeling like she’s been rammed with the flu, the tiniest smile lifts Nesta’s lips at the thought of Cassian carrying her to bed and making sure to charge her phone.

She finds her lockscreen blown up with notifications, all from her shared groupchat with Gwyn and Emerie.

Clicking into her texts, Nesta scrolls back through the hundreds of messages to see what she missed.

Emerie: i can’t believe nesta isn’t here for this.

Emerie: what the hell is she doing

Gwyn: probably hanging out with her best friends the inner circle

Gwyn: or getting railed

Emerie: >:(

A tired laugh escapes Nesta as she reads the texts, and she’s grateful for the reminder that these are her chosen friends. This is her found family, and she’ll be back with them soon.

Scrolling a little further back, Nesta finds the cause of all the commotion.

Emerie: A RACCOON JUST FELL THROUGH MY CEILING IM GONMA DUE &%!@

Emerie: DIE

Followed by multiple pictures of a scarily large raccoon chewing up Emerie’s bed.

Nesta shudders at the images. Reminding herself to message the girls back as soon as she has her head on straight, she puts away the phone and drags herself out of bed.

Her knees wobble a little as she stands upright and slips her glasses on, but her body keeps moving automatically toward the door. It’s not until she’s halfway downstairs that she realizes she’s looking for Cassian.

In the main hall that cuts through the house, Nesta glances between the back door and the front door. Instinct tugs her toward the front door, and as she passes the living room she spies Elain knocked out on the couch.

One of her legs dangle off the edge of the cushion and she still has her shoes on, like she dragged herself up onto the loveseat in the middle of the night and fell straight asleep.

Cassian brought Nesta up to their room sometime during the night, and Rhysand would have done the same for Feyre, but Elain… Elain has no one to carry her to her room, Nesta realizes.

Hating the unusual feeling of pity that blooms inside of her, Nesta goes over and grabs a throw blanket from nearby. She flings it haphazardly over Elain’s body. There, that should do it.

She might take a few seconds to tuck the blanket in a little better, but then she’s out the front door and jogging down the porch steps. Early morning dew beads the grass, and the sun isn’t high enough in the sky yet for the heat to be unbearable.

Like perfect timing, Cassian’s form appears from the lightly wooded running trail that circles the lake. He has his hair tied up and is wearing nothing but workout shorts, and even from this distance Nesta can see the sweat gleaming off his hardened chest.

She forgets about her headache and the bitter aftertaste of alcohol coating her tongue. Her feet speed up on the grass, and then Cassian takes sight of her too. He grins wide and breaks into a run toward her.

When they’re mere feet away from each other, Nesta is the one to halt first and hold out a hand, blocking Cassian’s incoming bear hug. “Don’t you dare.” She eyes his body with a warning look. Nesta will do a lot of things for her boyfriend, but sticking her face into his sweaty pits is not one of them.

Cassian looks her up and down with scrutiny, trying to decide if going in for the hug anyway is worth it. “Fine,” he gives in. He spins on his heel and walks down to the head of the pier, where a standing shower is set up for washing off after swims in the lake.

Twisting the faucet, Cassian stands under the cold burst of water and gives Nesta a look that says, Happy now?

Nesta cautiously goes over to where Cassian stands, but she gets too close—

In a blink, she’s being tugged under the shower stream, held tight to Cassian’s chest.

“Cassian!” Nesta splutters, trying to pull away. Droplets hit her glasses and blur her vision, and she has to shove the glasses up into her hair so she can properly glare at Cassian’s face.

He only laughs deeply and tugs her closer. “Like you don’t smell either. You’ve been in that dress since yesterday.”

Nesta catches her breath under the pouring water, glancing down at her soaked sundress. Right; she probably needs this more than he does.

The water isn’t freezing like she expected, she realizes as she relaxes in Cassian’s arms. It’s actually the perfect temperature, almost soothing after the initial shock to her senses.

Broad hands stroke long lines across her arms, like Cassian is making sure that she isn’t uncomfortable. The action triggers an old memory inside Nesta—or rather, an old familiar feeling. The feeling of Cassian in Nesta’s early days of knowing him, always pushing her out of her comfort zone but never tossing her in the deep end to drown.

“I handled my sisters and your friends pretty well the other night, don’t you think?” she murmurs into his chest.

Cassian looks down at her with pure reverence in his eyes. “I can’t be surprised. You’ve always been like that.”

“Like what?”

“Brave as hell. From the minute you stepped outside of the little circle you’d drawn around your life, you became the bravest person I know.”

“Not true,” Nesta states matter-of-factly. “I can name at least three braver people.”

Cassian pokes her in the ribs, but his smile is good natured. “It’s just an expression, Nes. Take the compliment.”

The shower keeps spraying around them, refracting the sunlight to scatter rainbows across Nesta’s vision. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” she tells Cassian earnestly. “I did the bulk of the hard work, but you…you gave me that first push. You taught me I could find safety in others, because you were my first real friend.”

Her words clearly take Cassian by surprise. Maybe it’s because Nesta is so rarely open about her true feelings, so her words have more value when she is. Maybe Cassian just wasn’t expecting to get so much credit, which is why he blinks rapidly now. “And what now?” he tries to tease, emotion tangled in his throat. “You have better friends?”

“Much better,” Nesta plays along, but her gaze carries all her sincerity. She suddenly laughs to herself, remembering: “I was terrible at socializing.”

It’s something she brushes off easily now, but few people will ever know that part of her inability to get close to others stemmed from a debilitating fear of rejection.

“Not to me.” Cassian reaches out to twist the faucet off, leaving the two of them standing soaked in the morning air. “I loved talking to you. I couldn’t stop wanting to talk to you, even if you didn’t feel like talking back.” That was how insistent he’d been on becoming her friend, that he would open up to her even when she was closed off to him.

Nesta watches Cassian tug his hair tie off, a little dazed by how much she feels for him in this moment. She isn’t ready for when he scrubs a hand vigorously through his loose hair, shaking the dripping strands out like a dog.

“Cassian!” Nesta scolds for the second time this morning. She flinches back at the water droplets hitting her eyes, making Cassian laugh when he looks back up at her. “Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. To make up for the assault, he delicately plucks her glasses off the top of her head and uses the hem of her wet dress to wipe off the lenses as best he can.

He slides the glasses back onto her face and nods, inspecting her. “That’s better.” Then he swoops down to kiss the mole beside her mouth.

Nesta wrinkles her nose in surprise. “What’s that for?”

“It’s a thank you,” he says. “Thank you for your car breaking down in the middle of the woods, and for agreeing to spend the night at my place last September.”

Nesta’s brows raise high in amusement. “Shouldn’t you be thanking Feyre? For calling in that favor with you?”

“One day, I’ll do that too,” he promises.

Nesta bites down on a smile and shakes her head, muttering, “Ridiculous.” Yet she can’t help but wonder: who would she thank?

The universe, probably. Whatever forces made it possible for her to wake up every day in the same bed as Cassian, eating the food he cooks and accepting the unconditional love he offers.

She suddenly shivers under the rising sun, becoming aware of how just uncomfortably her sundress clings to her body. Without Cassian’s words distracting her, everything is damp and cold.

Cassian notices and slips his hand into Nesta’s, already starting to pull her away from the pier and toward the house. “Let’s get you dry,” he says. “I’ll make us pancakes before everyone else wakes up.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“With chocolate chips.”

So hand in hand, the two of them walk back up to Cherrywood House.

***

a/n: IM FREE OF THIS BEAST. that ending was absolutely horrible to write, but i hope it satisfied you anyway. and if didnt, well, that’s what the epilogue is for

tagging: @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @arinbelle @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[j4gm]

TOGETHER AGAIN SPOILERS

A thread of lore, Easter eggs, episode connections, and background details from Adventure Time: Distant Lands: Together Again! Let me know if I missed anything! This is adapted from my original Twitter thread.

Keep reading ⬇️⬇️⬇️

1. I was expecting them to perhaps do a classic style title sequence for this episode, but I wasn't expecting them to straight up use the original title sequence. The only difference is this final screen saying "Distant Lands".

2. The background of the title cards is also the hill from the title sequence.

3. The ice cream having "50 flavours" and having an image of an enlightened soul is an obvious reference to the 50th Dead World as we see it later in the episode.

4. Continuing with the metaphor, the dirt in the ice cream could be a parallel to the fact that Jake's Nirvana actually wasn't perfect, because his inaction was allowing for injustice to perpetuate.

5. This whole scene feels immediately slightly off. Finn has his Scarlet sword and is out on a classic Ice King adventure, but he speaks in his grown voice and all the slang feels much more forced than it did in the real season one. Turns out this was deliberate.

6. The snow golem speaks with a baby voice like it did in the pilot episode, even though in canon it has a deeper voice. This further hints that something is not quite right.

7. The first major break in continuity is these snow golems resembling Uncle Gumbald and Peace Master, who Finn didn't meet until later in his life.

8. LSP sitting on Finn's head like this is reminiscent of Pen Ward's piece for the 2018 Ble crew zine.

9. Finn being given the choice of helping somebody but ending up helping everybody reminds me of "Memories of Boom Boom Mountain". It's the kind of resolution that wouldn't happen so much in the late seasons of the show, which helps make this scene feel even further out of place.

10. Jake is half frozen by Ice King in pretty much the exact same way as he was in "Prisoners of Love", and even has a very similar line.

11. The Snail is seen here. The crew have said that the Snail has been deliberately left out of previous Distant Lands specials, so its placement here is another very deliberate hint that this whole sequence is "trying too hard" to be like the early seasons.

12. The book "Mind Games" appears a couple of times, as seen in several previous episodes of Adventure Time. The first is as Finn is approaching the library in his dream. It also appears as one of the items in Finn's backpack later.

13. Jake is hurt when Finn fist bumps him with his metal arm, revealing that this scene is not real. This is also a callback to the title sequences of "Islands" and "Elements".

14. A whole bunch of familiar skeletons are seen in the bird's nest: Dirt Beer Guy, Abracadaniel, Me-Mow, Lemongrab, Mr. Pig, and the Snail again. This doesn't necessarily mean that all these characters are dead, since this scene is just a hallucination.

15. Old Man Finn! He's still got the chest tattoo of Jake, and this time we know that Jake is dead, so the theory that Jake died before "Obsidian" seems pretty likely. He looks similar to his old man design from "Puhoy", with the same facial hair.

16. There are several cameos of familiar characters who apparently died at the same time as Finn. The first is this duck, who previously appeared in "Ocarina".

17. The second is Donny, from the episode... uh, "Donny".

18. This goblin guy is an unnamed background character from “The Silent King”.

19. This old lady first appeared in "The Enchiridion", way back in season one. Old ladies are a species in the Land of Ooo, so I guess she wasn't actually very old back then, given she just about outlived Finn.

20. This is the cobbler who first appears in "His Hero". Amazing that he lived so long given all the trouble he got into in that episode.

21. Land of the Dead! This place was first seen in season two's "Death in Bloom", and now we are finally learning its actual purpose. It's a sort of gateway and hub to all of the other dead worlds.

22. There are some more minor cameos at the gates: a house person from "Donny", a soft person from "Gut Grinder", and a wood person from "When Wedding Bells Thaw". And, of course, the gate guardian himself from “Death in Bloom”.

23. Finn completely ignores the gate guardian in the same way he did in Death in Bloom. This also has the convenient effect of not having to reveal how Finn died, leaving it up to the audience's imagination.

24. Mr. Fox! We already knew he would die at some point because BMO had his skull in the finale.

25. Finn has his design from the first Distant Lands poster in this scene. Turns out it's young Finn in old Finn's clothes. But they gave him a shirt in the poster so you wouldn't be able to see the tattoo.

26. The clapping that Finn does while he's looking for Jake is a callback to "James Baxter the Horse", when Jake tells Finn to listen for that same rhythm if they are killed and need to find each other in the afterlife.

27. Mr. Fox talks about a "past life quotient", suggesting that there might be some kind of limit to how many times somebody can reincarnate. Finn's reincarnations are also seen in this scene; a callback to "The Vault", and confirmation that reincarnations share the same soul.

28. Boobafina, the goose who Mr. Fox was in love with in his debut episode “Storytelling”, apparently reincarnated into a tugboat. We've already seen that objects can have souls in the episode "Ghost Fly".

29. Finn is initially assigned to the 37th Dead World, which is the same one that Jake went to when he died in "Sons of Mars". We can only guess at what the other numbers on the ticket mean ;)

30. Tiffany! Despite several lucky escapes throughout his life, Tiffany has finally died. I like the use of this imagery to express Finn's conflicted feelings about him.

31. The 50th Dead World has long been established as the "highest" dead world, and the one synonymous with Heaven within Adventure Time's universe. It was first mentioned in "Ghost Princess" back in season three.

32. It's unclear what happens to souls which are destroyed within the dead worlds. It is a similar question to asking what happened to the ghosts that were killed in "Ghost Fly".

33. Death doesn't speak at all in Together Again because his voice actor, Miguel Ferrer, passed away in 2017 long before production began.

34. Finn phases through New Death when he tries to attack him, just like what happened way back in "Death in Bloom".

35. The 30th Dead World contains Tree Trunks as well as many of her love interests; Mr. Pig, her alien husband from "High Strangeness", Danny and Randy who first appeared in "Apple Wedding", and several more who we don't recognise, including at least one who presents as a woman.

36. Literally yelled when these two showed up. Joshua calls Finn a crybaby, which is a callback to "Dad's Dungeon".

37. The wall of weapons in Joshua and Margaret's house includes the iconic Demon Blood Sword, which was broken in "Play Date", as well as Margaret's auto-loading crossbow from "Joshua & Margaret Investigations".

38. Jermaine is sidelined a few times through the episode, in reference to his attitude in "Jermaine" where he feels that Finn and Jake were always their parents' favourites. I would have hoped things would be a bit better by now.

39. Fern gets name dropped while Finn and Jake are reuniting. A shame he doesn't actually show up in the episode.

40. In this scene, Finn says "What time is it?" This is a very subtle reference to the 2010 cartoon "Adventure Time".

41. In a couple of shots during this fight scene it looks like Jake might have a tattoo. It seems like it only becomes visible when he stretches out his arm.

42. New Death's amulet in this scene resembles parts of the Lich's cape, foreshadowing his influence on New Death.

43. There are several more cameos in the 50th Dead World: Booshy from "High Strangeness", one of the Marshmallow Kids from "Scamps", and Ghost Princess and Clarence, who were seen ascending to the 50th Dead World in "Ghost Princess".

44. Finn didn't interact with Booshy in "High Strangeness", but it seems they must have met at some point before they both died because Finn knows his name.

45. It seems like people in the 1st Dead World are slowly melted away until they become part of the landscape. Nasty.

46. Lots more cameos in this scene: a gnome from "Power Animal", a gnome from "The Enchiridion", a Bath Boy from "The Vault", Blagertha from "Love Games", Maja the Sky Witch, a troll from "Dungeon", Chocoberry, Choose Goose, Wyatt, a spiky person from "Gut Grinder", and possibly more.

47. Tiffany's insults are consistently nonsensical and amazing, as they were in the original series.

48. The Candy Kingdom looks extremely different. Peppermint Butler is wearing the crown so he might be in charge now, which is supported by the kingdom's very magical-looking augmentations. It’s not clear whether Finn and Jake were expecting to find Princess Bubblegum or Peppermint Butler, since both have the initials “PB” and both could be going by the title of “Princess”. Perhaps Peps and Bubblegum share the princess duties now that PB is living with Marceline more of the time.

49. Peppermint Butler has a "Boss" mug, although it's not the same colour as the one from "Obsidian".

50. Jake's ghost has the same design as he did when BMO killed him in "Ghost Fly". I also absolutely love Finn's ghost. This scene establishes that ghosts are just visitors to the mortal plane from the dead worlds.

51. Life has only appeared in animated shorts before now. Namely, "The Gift That Reaps Giving" which establishes her relationship with Death, and "Frog Seasons: Winter". This episode gives her a concrete place within Adventure Time's pantheon: she is in charge of reincarnation.

52. A translation of Life’s angry French dialogue by Shado: “After all I did for that boy. After all I did for him. No, it's not possible. It's not possible no, that... that makes me so mad but it's not possible.”

53. We finally have in-universe confirmation that Shoko's tiger is a previous life of Jake. This was previously confirmed by one of the writers, but wasn't canon until now.

54. I feel like Finn pulled off Shoko's look even better than Shoko did. I wonder whether Finn has gained the memories of his past lives now that he’s dead.

55. No Easter egg here, just want to appreciate this image.

56. There is an elemental symbol on the wall here, as seen in "Jelly Beans Have Power".

57. Tiffany's dramatic internal monologue is a recurring gag, as is his habit of nearly dying from falling into holes.

58. The Jake suit makes a cameo in the fight against New Death. It was last seen in the episode "Reboot”.

59. Finn's backpack contains a few familiar items: the t-shirt with the pocket from "It Came from the Nightosphere", Finn's underwear from "Little Dude" and other episodes, and a copy of Mind Games as I've already mentioned.

60. The Lich's Hand is present in the background of Death's... death scene. This is probably the unseen "friend" who New Death keeps talking about.

61. The Lich's menacing monologues often begin with a single command. Previously they have included "Fall" and "Stop". This time, the command is "Burn".

62. Jake uses the word "boingloings", which is a callback all the way to "Hitman" in the third season.

63. Jake's blue shape-shifter form from "Abstract" appears very briefly during his fight with Finn.

64. Finn's lumpy space person form also makes an appearance. This design was last seen all the way back in the second episode of the entire show, "Trouble in Lumpy Space".

65. Jake steps on the Lich's hand in a very similar way to how he stepped on Ash in "Memory of a Memory", which is itself a Monty Python reference.

66. The credits include a dedication to a few AT cast and crew who have passed away. Polly Lou Livingston was the voice of Tree Trunks. Miguel Ferrer was the voice of Death. Michel Lyman and Maureen Mlynarczyk were both sheet timers on the original series. Rest in peace.

67. The message that Finn and Jake write out on the ouija board is "BUTT", which Peppermint Butler takes as a distress signal. This message is also used as a distress signal by the Hot Dog Knights in "The Limit".

68. Peppermint Butler's reversed dialogue from the scene where he makes contact with Finn and Jake is "Kee-Oth Rama Pancake", the spell from “Dad's Dungeon” for banishing demons.

69. That appears to be President Porpoise with all of Tree Trunks’ other lovers.

70. In this scene, Life is humming part of "Lonely Bones", the song which Death tried to record for her in her debut short "The Gift That Reaps Giving". It's hard to notice because it's so brief.

71. Finn and Jake's cover is blown while in the Land of the Dead because Jake loudly farts, which also happened in "Death in Bloom".

72. The place where Mr. Fox explains the perception mechanics of the afterlife is the exact same location as the River of Forgetfulness from "Death in Bloom", which, as it turns out, was imaginary.

These are sort of out of order at the end because I was adding stuff to the Twitter thread as it got discovered. That’s all for now!

[yukinon-writes]

Favorite ATLA episodes, scenes or moments?

So, I've been sitting on this one for a while because I wanted to do it right when I answered this. I mean I went back and got screen shots and everything!

Short answer: The second half of "The Blue Spirit".

Long answer:

The episode opens with Commander Zhao trying to proclaim some very hyped archers to aid in capturing Aang. As he is being denied, a messenger falcon comes informing him that he has been promoted to Admiral giving him the power to just take the archers for what he sees fit. In the mean time, Katara and Sokka end up getting sick from the previous episode exploits. Aang then goes to get help from a nearby herbalist, who tells him he needs to find some frozen frogs to help cure them. When Aang is out searching for the frogs, the archers from earlier find him. After a pursuit of Aang evading despite being woefully outnumbered, they are finally able to capture him. The first half plays out pretty much no different than previous episodes, setting up the second half.

This is where it starts getting interesting. The mood/atmosphere of the episode has a more melancholic feel to it, which fits with Aang being captured and Katara and Sokka being in no condition to help, let alone know that he needs help.

Enter the Blue Spirit! We follow him as he breaks in. Now, I knew before starting the series that Zuko eventually became a friend to Aang and the others, but I didn't know when exactly that happens. I do think it makes sense, though, for somebody going in with no previous knowledge to be able to guess that the Blue Spirit is Zuko. I definitely had a feeling it was, but there was still this doubt that made it exciting to see what happens and to find out who it actually was. Next, we watch as the Blue Spirit sneaks their way in, breaks Aang free, and then they proceed to make their way out. The knocked out guards are found before they can actually escape so they have to fight their way out.

The fighting in this scene is great! It flows nicely and the Blue Spirit and Aang work as an amazing team despite the Blue Spirit not speaking at all! It feels intense and the threat of being captured again is palpable. It culminates in the above stunt to try and get over the last wall. They fall short and the Blue Spirit takes Aang as a hostage to get out. Unknown to the duo, Admiral Zhao plans to use the archers from earlier to knock out the Blue Spirit, which works.

I was so excited when I saw that scar! Obviously, Zuko wanted the Avatar to take Aang back himself and not out of the kindness of his heart, but even if Aang left him, the previous escape shows that they can work as an amazing team. There is potential for them to be able to fight together as allies, but Aang isn't able to just leave him behind and so we get some more development between the two.

The setting here is just beautiful! It is calm, removed from distractions, and just allows the scene to play out with what is or isn't said and how they react. Once Zuko is awake, Aang goes into a story about his past. He talks about a friend he had, Kuzon, that was from the Fire Nation. How they would always get into trouble together. How they didn't hate or fight each other, but were able to live peacefully together.

Here, Aang looks happy and almost hopeful, I say. After telling Zuko his story, Aang asks Zuko, "If we knew each other, back then, do you think we could've been friends, too?" I wish ATLA had more writing like this! Instead of just asking straight out what Zuko was doing, Aang starts off with a story about his past, showing his character, giving us a glimpse of what life was like for him before he was frozen, and creating some emotional tension. Then. THEN! Aang asks his question like he did. Not, "Can we be friends?" but what could also be interpreted as, "Would it be possible for us to eventually be friends?"

Without saying a single word, Zuko gives his answer. He isn't ready to even think about the possibility of being friends with Aang. Zuko, after all, has a lot of growing and self discover to do still. At this point, Aang escapes and the episode takes on a more somber tone. The music that is playing fits the resolution perfectly. Zuko returns to his ship, where we see Uncle Iroh playing the music we hear. Uncle Iroh asks where Zuko has been, somewhat goading him to try and get a reaction, but instead Zuko just replies that he is going to bed and doesn't want to be disturbed in a pretty calm tone for him.

Aang goes back to get more frozen frogs for Katara and Sokka before returning to them. Sokka asks if Aang made any new friends while he was out. Aang replies with, "No, I don't think so." With the way he is acting in this scene and the way he replies to Sokka, Aang's feelings really come across here. Zuko's answer really affects him and it shows in a way I don't think we see enough. Obviously, Aang wants to be friends with Zuko. But there is nothing to be done for now, so Aang roles on to his side.

Then it transitions into this mirror shot. Zuko is obviously contemplating what has happened as well. He doesn't look as upset as Aang, but we can see that it has affected him, too. Zuko has built up walls to protect himself, but we can see the start of them starting to fall. It might be seen earlier, but I don't remember of any moments before this off the top of my head. This definitely is a moment where cracks, even if they are small, start to show, I think. Especially with the next shot.

Zuko looks at the Fire Nation flag on his wall before he turns his over, turning his back to it, and we see anguish on Zuko's face. As much as he isn't quite ready to face it, he already has the battle raging inside him. Sadly, the episode doesn't end here. We then go back and see Katara's and Sokka's reactions to the thawing frogs in their mouths, breaking on emotion that has been built up. It would've been better to end it with the above image, so much more powerful. IMO, the above scene(s) is some of the strongest in the whole series and I wish there was more of that throughout.

[sabraeal]

Desert & Reward, Chapter 11

[Read on AO3]

Written for @jj-carstairs​, who was the second to blackout her AnS Fic Rec Bingo board! And with this, I am finished with this particular set of obligations...and moving swiftly onto the next....

For a wedding that is supposed to be small, intimate, and most of all secret, there sure are a lot of chairs crushed into the throne room.

“It’s not really a secret,” Zen tells him, contrary to literally every dire royal imperative Obi’s heard thus far. “Or it is, but only as much as anything can be a secret.”

Considering how many he’s prepared to take to the grave, Obi would beg to differ. But he tugs at his collar instead, slumping down onto the dais with palpable misery.

“Don’t fuss,” Sir chides cheerfully. “You look just fine.”

“I look like a present wrapped to within an inch of its life.” And with no one to open it. Obi grimaces, avoiding a glance at M-- Zen’s shoes. This definitely wasn’t the audience to air that particular grievance.

Sir’s mouth only bends into a smile. “There are worse things for a groom to be on his wedding day.”

“You’re right!” Obi's grin settles into something more tooth than toothsome. “I could be stabbed instead.”

That winsome smiles flips right around. “I haven’t stabbed a groom.”

“Obi!” Zen scolds, far too innocent. He hazards a glance at him, not missing the too-wide eyes, the twitching lips. “Mitsuhide wouldn’t be so rude to stab a man at his wedding.”

The big guy nods, solemn. “Yes, thank you--”

“Only one of his guests.”

“Zen!”

Zen sidesteps Sir’s advance, slipping right up the dais to put Obi smack dab between the both of them. Clever plan; Sir would never risk hitting a non-combatant.

Too bad for him; Obi’s never missed a chance to throw himself into the fray. “Be fair, M-- Zen.” The name sticks in his mouth, stumbling out only when he ushers it through his teeth. Terrible, how that almost ruins the joke. “He’s never attempted violence at a wedding. Only an engagement party.”

“You’re right.” Zen’s warmed to the topic now, voice litling into sing-song. “And at my brother’s engagement instead of--”

“All right, I think you’ve both had your fun,” the big guy informs them, shoulders hunched. “There’s no reason we have to keep talking about it.”

“Aw, come on now, sir,” Obi wheedles, knitting his fingers beneath his chin. “You can’t blame a man for wondering how much blood he’ll get to keep on his w-w--” no matter how hard he tries, the word wont’ come, a stubborn mule hauled up at the end of his tongue-- “at the altar.”

Sir’s eyes dart down to him, serious brow all furrowed, mouth pulled into the sort of frown that says things instead of quietly ponders, but Zen--

Well, he can always rely on his master to miss a misstep. “Well, at least Mitsuhide saved Hisame from having to lose it on his wedding night instead.”

That gets the big man’s attention, his chest already expanding with protest, and Obi takes the distraction with both hands, jumping up to ask, “Well, sir, if you’d save me the trouble too, I guess I’d thank you for it.”

“Obi,” he admonishes, “Shirayuki would never stab you.”

“Even if you deserved it,” Master adds, so helpful. “Besides, you might not be her first choice--” he doesn’t have to say who would fill that particular slot-- “but you’re a more preferable husband than Raj.”

“What a ringing endorsement.” The doors dwarf Kiki, even though she only stands beneath the open one, one brow raised to dubious heights. Even in her finery-- which Obi can admit is very fine-- her hip’s cocked like she’s on the other side of the training grounds and not the end of an aisle.

“Aw, come on now, Miss Kiki.” He jumps to his feet, grin already teasing up a corner of his lips. “What girl could resist a man who didn’t kidnap her?”

She saunters down the runner, blue and gold a river beneath her slippers, and smirks. “I suppose the ones who would rather a man that didn’t try to kill her.”

“Kill!” He slaps a hand to his chest. “Such a strong word. I prefer discourage.”

Mainly since that’s what the agreement was: strongly discourage-- what they called intimidation, in the business-- the young redheaded guest from overstaying her welcome. Undue violence or spectacle would cut the amount of coin in half, and oh, it’d been a long time since Obi had seen that much dil in one place back then. Lucky thing for Miss that the marquis abhorred a scandal, and Obi had been thinking about a nice steak dinner.

Lucky for him too, it turns out.

“Should I ask what you’re doing?” Kiki calls out, but it’s not to him-- it’s over his shoulder, both brows raised now.

“I, uh...” Obi cranes his neck, watching as Mitsuhide attempts to have this conversation with the wall. “I didn’t know-- you aren’t-- shouldn’t you be with Shirayuki?”

“I was.” Kiki mounts the steps to the dais, teeth peeking through the seam of her lips. “Is there a problem.”

Her tone says, quite clearly, there shouldn’t be.

“Well, um.” Big guy licks his lips, daring a quick glance back, before dedicating himself to the wainscoting again. “You’re not supposed to see, the um, ahhh...”

He flails a hand behind him blindly. A good thing; Sir would never survive seeing their faces.

Zen stares, incredulous. “You’re not the one getting married.”

“And for that case, neither am I.” Kiki clasps a hand around her husband’s shoulder. “Unless there’s something I should know?”

Sir’s red-faced when he peers down, but a shy smile rounding his lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Ah.” Obi never thought he’d live to see the day Kiki Seiran thawed enough to smile with all her teeth, but here he is, minutes away from his own wedding, hosted at the behest of the King of Clarines, and she does. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

There’s a spark in the depth of Big Guy’s dark eyes when he turns to her, mouth poised to riposte--

“Is there a reason you’re here?” Zen asks, harried. “Or are you trying to be a distraction?”

Kiki spins to face him, far too mild as she says, “I didn’t realize there was anything to distract from.”

“Of course there is.” At her expectant look, he provides, “We were having some, ah, bonding time. Just us men. Giving advice. Before, you know, he’s no longer a bachelor.”

“Please,” Obi begs, “distract away.”

“Well then.” Kiki turns to him now, face placid but eyes alight, and informs him, “You are needed in the vestibule.”

He blinks. “What? Why?”

Her mouth curves. “Oh, I’m sure you can come up with a few reasons.”

He can’t. Or, really, there’s too many, all jittering together at too many angles for one to rise to the top, leaving his mind as empty as the moment a bass bell stops ringing-- not the absence of sound, but its echo.

It’s not until he sees that scholarly slouch, that hair so tousled it circles back around to something approaching orderly, that he realizes-- Lata is here. Lata is here, and oh, they have a lot to talk about.

“Stop.”

His heels skid to a halt on instinct; one he’s grateful for when Her Majesty, belly bulging, bustles around Lata’s lanky frame, pretty brow just the slightest bit furrowed. She points one slender finger to a corner hedged in by a screen. “Stand right there.”

Obi knows better than to ask questions, but he does anyway. “Wh--?”

“Do as you’re told,” she says, fists perching at where her hips would be, if the heir of Clarines wasn’t currently occupying them. Despite her fancy get up, it comes out less like a queen and more like a bossy older sister, not above twisting arms if it’ll get her way.

It moves him. One foot, then the other, boot heels clacking together at attention. She nods, quick, approving. “Good. Now don’t move.”

A thrill goes down his spine, and he...really doesn’t want to think about what that says about him. Something he already knew, probably.

“All right.” Her Majesty steps back, a thoughtful frown marring her mouth. “Now ask your questions.”

Finally. “Wh--?”

“Obi?”

His head swivels toward the screen, heart leaping into his throat. “Miss?”

One foot sneaks out, trying to pivot him but--

Her Majesty clucks her tongue. “Now, now, sir. There will be no peeking.”

He freezes, wide-eyed. “Peeking?”

The queen favors him with a smile that is both gentle and mischievous, and honestly, he doesn’t know why anyone’s still afraid of His Majesty when Her Majesty is right there, looking like that. “A groom cannot see his bride on their wedding day.”

He almost protests-- it’s only Miss, after all; with her sense of propriety, he’s seen her any which way but naked. But--

But in an hour, she’ll be his Missus. No, his lady. Because he’s the groom. She’s the bride.

He must do an awful job on tamping down his rising horror, since Her Majesty adds, so helpful, “Especially when she’s in her wedding gown.”

His neck snaps to the screen-- the screen made out of paper so thin, so delicate, that a good lamp might cast a real show. He’d known a few girls who made a living off that, a nice shadow and some lighting, but-- that’s not the point here. Not when Miss is sitting on the other side of this thing, wrapped up in the fancy dress she’s going to walk down the aisle in.

Bad luck she’ll be walking towards him in it.

He squints at the vague, Miss-like shape the ambient light gives-- definitely not the crisp image he’s seen with red ones-- and frowns. “I guess I won’t be the first one to say you look nice today, huh?”

“Oh.” There’s a laugh bubbling beneath the sound, like a pebble in a brook. “No, I’m afraid I’ve been told at least five times already.”

He tilts his head back, crown scrubbing against the wall. “Ah, so this is what it’s like, being the one you’re dressing up for.”

Her breath catches. It’s a soft sound; one he’s not even certain he hears until Her Majesty turns her attention toward the other side of the screen. One brow arches with a level of amusement he’s glad she’s not gleaning from him. “I was under the impression you had a question, Shirayuki?”

“Ah, right!” He can see her hands waving, fingers spread, right by where her chin should be. “Obi, why is Lata here?”

Miss never speaks but to say things softly, sweetly, but even she has to exert an herculean effort not to draw a point with the word Lata.

The man himself frowns, the contemplative lines bracketing his mouth rounding into a pair of cross parentheses. “We just went over this.”

“Ah, I know.” Miss wearily holds onto her buoyant tone like flotsam in a wreck. “I just...don’t quite understand.”

“I don’t see what so difficult about it.” His arms fold across his chest, the velvet of his coat rumpling into mossy hillocks. Kiki was right-- the green does go well with the gold. If only Yori’d let him wear it. “Your father cannot, without causing a diplomatic incident by breathing in a foreign court, be in evidence. Therefore, I must stand in his stead.”

“Yes, that part I understand,” she says in her infinitely patient way, that kind that makes Her Majesty’s lips quiver. “I just don’t understand why.”

Lata’s face crumples with frustration. “It’s traditional.”

Miss hesitates. He can’t hear her mouth working-- those sounds are too soft to travel so far-- but he knows it is, just as her hands are behind the screen. “But, Lata, you hate tradition.”

“I do,” he allows-- because it’s true-- but adds, “but this is a familial duty.”

Obi’s heart stutters right in his chest. This really isn’t the time to be getting into all this. To try to explain-- “Sir--”

“Familial duty?” Miss manages, a whole octave higher than usual. “How--?”

“Yes,” Lata interrupts, clearly tired of rehashing a conversation he’s already solved in his head. “And one cannot shirk a duty to their family, no matter how ridiculous it is.”

Her outline shivers on the screen, parts of her fading and coming into focus in turns, like she’s moved her whole body. The shape of her head is strange, ovalish toward the top instead of round-- she’s tilting it. There’s a question trying to make its way out of her, and he knows every word of it, he just has to hope--

“Besides,” Lata coughs, straightening the hem of his waistcoat. “My mother would be quite cross.”

All right, well, now Obi had questions. But those can keep, if Miss’s stunned silence is any indication.

“You know, Miss,” he hums, voice pitched low to carry to her ears only. “Suzu’s here too, if you’d like another option.”

“Suzu’s here?” she echoes, the confusion stark in her voice. “But how did he...?”

Obi’s mouth curls into a grin. “He came in with Lata last night.”

“This morning.” Lata clears his throat, really giving that coat a good tug. “And he didn’t come with me, he attached himself to me, and I chose not to leave him in a drift outside of Oriold.”

“But...why?” Miss hesitates as she speaks, like she’s half put together a puzzle only to realize pieces are missing. “I thought no one was supposed to know about the wedding.”

Obi grins. “Outside of His Majesty’s three hundred most bosom companions, of course.”

He doesn’t need to see Miss to feel her glare, not when it’s reflected so fully in the flat look Her Majesty gives him. “What sort of message would it send if word spreads that the crown had Margravine Entaepode married to the Marquis Conti with any less in attendance?”

He holds back a huff of a laugh. Of course Her Majesty would see it like that-- the date was just details compared to the shame of having anything less than the whole of Clarines’ court to witness their nuptials.

“To answer your question,” Lata continues, fluster and frustration eddying around his eyes, “I think my family name does afford me some considerations in this matter.”

Obi’s grateful he doesn’t expound on what, exactly, those may be. “The rest of them heard about it and drew lots to see who came as his plus one.”

“There is no such thing,” Her Majesty says, firm as steel, in the same moment Lata complains, “Well, I never said they could.”

There’s a pause before Miss says, voice thin, “So everyone in Lillias, they all...?”

“Know about your happy occasion?” Lata offers ruefully. “I would say so.”

“Suzu’s here as his valet.” He has to bite down on the impulse to tell her about Yori’s horror as he watched Suzu give the footmen instructions like I don’t know, over there, somewhere, and nah, just leave those in the trunk, the folds will come out on their own, right?

It’s not the time for stories. Especially ones where she won’t even know who he’s talking about.

“Oh. Oh my.” Miss sounds faint behind the paper. “Yuzuri is going to be so upset.”

“Oh, no.” Lata shifts, impatient. “She’s upset right as we speak.”

Miss whimpers.

“Don’t worry, Miss,” he murmurs, leaning close enough to brush the paper. “You won’t be the only one she puts a stripe on.”

“Obi...” For a moment, he thinks she’s scolding him, but her shadow moves, and the paper bows out, her hand pressed against it.

He hesitates, the paper whispering over his palm before he lays it on hers. Her warmth is muted but familiar, easing the careening pace of his pulse. “We’ll make it all right after we get through this.

And you’re safe, he doesn’t add. Doesn’t need to, with the way her fingers tense against his. “Lata just has to get you down there--”

She balks, softly, a noise made only for him. He grins. “What’s the matter? Isn’t he the father of our little Lyrias family?”

“I think that would be Shidan,” she murmurs. “He’s more like...a distant uncle.”

Obi grins. “Who pays for lunch?”

Miss doesn’t reply, but he can feel her look through the screen. “I am perfectly capable of walking myself down a runner.”

Her Majesty hums a note of disagreement. “Perhaps. But it would be an unorthodox choice, and one that would carry...implications.”

Miss makes a frustrated noise. “Implications?”

“That I didn’t approve,” Lata explains, creating far more inconvenient questions than concrete answers.

“How--?”

“Well, I suppose we could always ask Master,” Obi offers, too cheerful. “Or maybe Elder Highness--?”

“Ah!” Shirayuki yelps, snatching her hand from the screen. ��No. That’s-- it’s fine. Lata is a...fine choice.”

Obi returns to the throne room with a sense of relief; with only minutes left until the ceremony starts, there’s no time for any more unexpected developments. Not unless Prince Raj himself arrives mid-vows to stop the wedding.

At least, so he thinks, until he realizes: the throne is not empty.

Master is beside it, put-upon as he always is, and right on the velvet tuft reserved for the royal ass is--

Well, the royal ass itself.

“Marquis,” His Majesty hums, “you’re here, finally. Congratulations.”

“What are you doing?” he asks, eyes wide. “Why...?”

“To marry you, of course.” He smiles, mouth wide. “It is the pleasure of a liege to do so for his vassals.”

“But Zen is my...” His words trail off when he looks in Zen’s eyes, when he remembers at just whose behest that title of immediate knight had come from. Immediate knight, a man who served the family royal, and above all...

...The king. Even without his lordly title, Obi was Izana Wisteria’s dog, lowly mutt among the hounds he may be. And with it...

He grit down his teeth. “Fuck.”

The king’s mouth flashes teeth. “Well, now that we’re all up to speed,” he says, drawing up to his full height. “I think it’s time we begin.”

He has scarcely finished talking, when the horns blare from the balconies. It hits him all at once; this is it. He’s going to be married.

If only either of them actually wanted it.

[tanyawritesstories]

Thawed | The Mandalorian x Reader pt. 6

There's only one more chapter after this 😱 rescue is inbound! I hope y'all are enjoying the series so far, enjoy the latest chapter! 😊

Series Masterlist

Word count: 6.2k

Warnings: angst, canon violence, torture, fluff, canon divergence, I fixed the ending 😉, plot twist???

•••

Din tapped his foot anxiously on the floor of Slave I. They had just landed on a planet he couldn’t remember the name of, it was a prison planet basically and he was here to pick up someone he had hoped he would never see again. Din had stashed the Crest on Navarro, with Karga helping him and promising to find the tracker hidden inside it. He’d also picked up Cara after learning of her new status within the New Republic. Din had only grabbed his jetpack and the Beskar spear Ahsoka had given him from the Crest before joining Fett and Shand aboard their ship.

Grogu grabbed Din’s leg and he looked down at his little one. Grogu looked sad and he held one of Y/N’s hand sewn toys that she made for Mandi that were left on the Crest. He had apparently snatched it while Din was busy grabbing other things. “I know, buddy. I miss her too,” he lamented. Din himself had taken something of hers: her shawl. He had taken and folded it thinly and tied it just above his vambrace on his left arm. It was the only piece of her he had left.

“She’s got him,” he heard Fett say just before he walked down the ramp. Din didn’t want to do this, he wished there was an easier way. But there wasn’t, this was all he had. He sighed and stood, letting Grogu have his seat as he walked down the ramp, encountering the man he wished he would never see again.

~~~~

“We need coordinates for Moff Gideon’s light cruiser.” Din informed. Mayfeld scoffed, “Moff Gideon, forget it.” As an ex-Imperial, Din was sure Mayfeld knew how dangerous Gideon was. Grogu wandered out from behind Din’s chair and Mayfeld noticed him. “I see you still got your little friend, so why do you need me?” Din picked Grogu up and held him in his lap, he was having a hard time keeping his composure around his guy. He was glad when Cara answered for him.

“They have his girl,” she said, “and his baby.” Din didn’t correct her this time. “You’re telling me this guy found a woman,” Mayfeld almost sounded mocking. Cara and Fennec both glared at him. “What’s in it for me?” Din rolled his eyes, letting Cara do the law talking. He paid attention to what Mayfeld was saying. Internal Imperial terminal. Morak. Secret mining operation. The words passed through his head and he picked out the important details. He couldn’t stop worrying. Thinking.

What was happening on board that cruiser? Was Y/N safe? What about Mandi? Were they together? Or had Mandi been taken away and experiments forced upon her like they had done with Grogu? Din didn’t want to think about that as Slave I entered into space, heading for Morak.

~~~~

Y/N laid on the cold, hard bench in her cell. Her mind constantly switching between worrying about her baby and worrying about Mando. She hoped he was safe, she hoped he had taken Grogu and ran as far away as he could. She had a feeling that he would come for her but she almost wished he wouldn’t. She had done this to protect him.

The sound of the cell door opening made her sit up. Two stormtroopers entered before Moff Gideon did. He looked down at her with his usual piercing stare. “A Mandalorian traveling with a woman and child, you know how that looks I presume,” he said. She was confused. “Now, I know he picked you up on Nexlar, our contacts told me about how he defended you. Judging by the way you handed yourself over, I’d say there’s more to you two than meets the eye.”

Y/N clenched her jaw and looked at the floor. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being right. “My guess is he’ll come to rescue you,” he said tauntingly. “So you are now our bait.” He turned and exited the room, nodding to the troopers on his way out. The door closed and the troopers produced shock batons from their belts. “Let’s get to work,” one said. Y/N closed her eyes and awaited the physical pain that would come. Bait doesn’t have to be alive for it to work, she thought.

~~~~

“What do we do with the kid?” Everyone looked to Grogu who stood at the foot of the ramp. Din picked him up and set him on a seat. “He’ll be fine in here,” he said. “My ship isn’t child proofed,” Fett said matter of factly. “Neither is mine, he’ll be ok. Let’s go,” Din urged. They scouted out the route and the base, formulating a plan on how to get inside. There was only one problem. they didn’t have anyone innocent enough to get in without tripping the alarm.

Eventually Din was the only one who could do it. He would do it for her, for Y/N and Mandi. The last image he had of her in his mind was the fearful but determined look on her face. He’d seen that face before, on a different woman. His mother. With the ‘I love you’ and everything. He hated that the two instances were so alike. Only this time he had the opportunity to save Y/N and he wouldn’t stop trying until he succeeded.

He didn’t like being out of his armor, in fact he hated it. But it was what he had to do. Mayfeld’s endless chatter aboard the transport went in one ear and out the other. The pirates attacked and all Din could think as he found them off was: I wish I had my armor, and please let me make it through alive. He got more and more anxious as they arrived, were welcomed into the base, and within reach of the terminal. Mayfeld refused to go in when he saw someone he recognized. Din wished he could force the other man in there but there was nothing he could do. Except...do it himself.

The bounty hunter part of his brain told him it wasn’t worth it, the Mandalorian part screamed at him not to. Din pushed those thoughts away. He would have to be vulnerable here, something he hated most. He walked to the terminal, data stick in hand. He was scared. A calming thought found its way into his mind as if someone had planted it there on purpose.

Y/N had gone through these challenges too. She had been willing to put blind faith in a man she didn’t know. She trusted him to protect her on a dangerous planet, and trusted him when she was at her most vulnerable: delivering her baby. Din knew this was what he needed to do. Before his mind could convince him otherwise, he raised both hands to the helmet and lifted it off his head…

~~~~

Y/n coughed, more blood staining the floor. The troopers had been brutal and merciless. They knew she chose not to talk and made it their goal to get her to scream. By the time she had, her nose was broken, she’d been kicked in the stomach so many times she wouldn’t be surprised if a rib or two was broken. Those were the injuries she couldn’t see. When looking in the reflective walls she saw that she had a black eye and a split lip.

She spit blood onto the floor and paced around the room, her anger boiling to the surface. She was starting to think she should’ve stayed within the safe confines of the New Republic, but she left on good terms and went her own way. They had forced her to scream before, now she wanted to scream on her own. She hadn’t used her voice in months, save for those few words to Mando and Grogu. The more she walked the more rage built up in her.

This wasn’t who she was. She wasn’t some hopeless girl with no voice. She was a woman and a mother, she had to fend for herself now. And that meant making noise. She turned and punched the wall so hard she heard cracking. Y/N fell to her knees and screamed. Loud.

She had a powerful voice and they would all hear it.

~~~~

Mayfeld was getting that look in his eyes that Din knew far too well. He was seconds away from snapping. Din looked at the man and shook his head just enough that he would see it. Mayfeld ignored him. The Imperial officer continued to talk, his words getting more and more evil. This wouldn’t end well.

It didn’t.

Mayfeld finally snapped and drew his blaster, shooting the man in the chest from point blank range. Din sent Mayfeld a shocked look then they both remembered they were in a public room. They looked around and saw all the others in the room staring at them in shock. The duo acted first and shot down everyone. Time to run. Mayfeld gave Din the helmet back and they escaped through a window. Cara and Fennec shot down everyone that followed them while they got to the roof. They could hear the ship and ran, shooting behind them as they went.

Slave I leveled out and they both jumped the gap onto the ramp. Din helped Mayfeld up and into the ship at which point he asked for the cycler rifle behind Din. He handed him the weapon and watched as he aimed at the facility. Din remembered what Mayfeld’s area of expertise had been while he was with the Imperials. Sharpshooter. The shot he took hit a container of Rhydonium, blowing up the entire transport and the one next to it, then the whole facility went up in fire and smoke.

Din was thankful to be back in his armor as he and Mayfeld waited for Cara and Fennec to get back to the ship. “Ya’know I, I’ve been in a similar situation as you are right now,” Mayfeld said. Din turned his head to look at him. Mayfeld had been using a somber tone of voice while talking to him in the transport, now he was almost sounding mournful. “I had a woman once upon a time,” Mayfeld said, looking at the ground. “Ava, loved her with everything I had. She was a sharpshooter, like me,” he smiled sadly, “better than me..” Din felt bad for him. “What happened?” The other man sighed and looked into the forest. “She was on the second Death Star when it blew up,” he said. “If there’s any advice I can give ya, when you get your woman back don’t ever let her go and love her like there’s no tomorrow.”

Din nodded. “I will.” Cara and Fennec returned and Mayfeld was fully prepared to go back to the scrapyards. Cara was impressed by his shooting and the fact that he’d basically switched sides, she let him go. “What now?” She asked Din. “Now, we rescue them.”

~~~~

Fett was quite the pilot as Din was learning. He’d chased down the Imperial ship through hyperspace and hit them dead on with an ion pulse to shut down their engines. Din and Cara boarded the shuttle, just who he was looking for. Dr. Pershing. Din shrugged off the pilot’s questions directing one at the doctor. “Are they alive?” The skittish man stuttered. “They only mentioned that there was another child, that’s all I know,” he said before one pilot aimed a blaster at his head. The pilot antagonized Cara, Din didn’t know why, what was he thinking he could get out of it? He got what he was asking for when Cara shot him dead.

They then traveled to another planet, Din knew that the small group they had couldn’t take on Gideon alone. He knew just the people to go to, they owed him a favor. He and Fett entered the cantina, their eyes scouring the room and finding their targets. It was easy to convince Bo-Katan, promising her the cruiser and anything else she wanted as long as Din could get Y/N and Mandi free and safe. They briefed aboard Slave I, Dr. Pershing threw in his knowledge which Din was secretly grateful for.

“Where is the child being held?” He asked. The man glanced at Grogu who was hiding behind a chair, he pressed another button and the holo zoomed in on a lower portion of the ship. “Here, in the brig under armed guard. Most likely they’re performing the tests there as well.” “What tests?” Din questioned. “Just blood samples for now, they wouldn’t proceed with anything else. That’s why they called for me,” the doctor answered. “And the woman?” The doctor looked confused. “They never told me about a woman, only a new child with similar abilities…”

Din sighed. He would have to find Y/N on his own and he knew someone who could help him with that, his helmet turned to look at Grogu. He had seen what Grogu and Mandi could accomplish together, their powers were stronger that way. Once he got both of them together, they would help him find Y/N. He didn’t like the idea of taking the kid into the Nexu den, but it was the only way he’d find her. Bo-Katan described her plan and they were all set. It was now or never.

They exited hyperspace and were thrown into the action. Fett was on their tail, and he was certainly making it convincing. Bo-Katan sent her distress call through. The enemy launched TIE fighters in response, which had to dodge the craft. Bo-Katan and Koska just barely evaded the fighters as they went after Fett, who was unconcerned by them. They were coming in hot. It was going to be a rough and fast landing, not to mention sketchy. “Hang on!” Fennec shouted. The shuttle bounced off the walls and skidded along the floor until it stopped.

Din tucked Grogu into the bag he usually carried him in. Din had tied it onto his belt in such a way that he could easily detach it, and had fashioned a flap to cover the top so no one could see what was inside. Grogu would be hidden, he might get jostled a bit but he would be ok. “You gotta be quiet now, buddy,” he said as he closed the flap over the top of the bag.

The girls exited the shuttle first charging and blasting their way through the hangar. Once he heard the blaster fire cease, Din exited the shuttle, making sure he was clear and heading to the brig. He crept through the hallways, always making sure they were empty before advancing. He had to duck and hide a couple times to avoid detection. But he continued, having memorized his way.

He got to the doors behind which the Dark Troopers were stored, he held the data stick in hand, but when the door came into view it had already opened. “No, no!” He yelled, running for the control panel. He got the stick in the controls and the door started closing. It was nearly all the way shut when two powerful robotic hands shoved it open, one of the droids got through and sent Din into the opposite wall. His spear got knocked from his shoulder and the bag that Grogu was in detached from his belt, both sliding across the floor in different directions.

Din shot at the droid but, as predicted, the bullets only bounced off. The machine lifted him off the ground by his neck and began throwing heavy punches to his head. Din knew his helmet would hold up, the wall would break before the Beskar would. Clearly they hadn’t been programmed for combat against Mandalorians. He saw the remaining droids attempting to break the glass and get free, he hoped it would hold until he could destroy this one. Grogu was out in the open somewhere off to his right.

Din tried his flamethrower but it was no use, fire resistant, of course. He was thrown near the door by the droid and had almost reached for the airlock switch before the droid reached him and flung him in the other direction, near his spear. He tried his whistling birds this time, they did more than the flamethrower did at least. Slowing the droid down a little as it shot at him. Before it could reach him, he spun onto his knees, snatched the spear and plunged it into the droid's neck area. Sparks flew from it and with all his strength, Din ripped the spear back towards him, severing the droid’s head from its body and finally destroying it. Din scrambled for the airlock when he heard the whoosh of the outer doors opening, he got to the door, seeing all the droids sucked out into space.

Confused, he looked down at the controls to see Grogu standing at the foot of them, his little hand stretched up towards the airlock switch. Din sighed in relief, picking the child up. “Thanks, buddy,” he said. He set the spear back onto his shoulder and picked up the bag from the floor. He reattached it to his belt and placed Grogu back inside. “Let’s go find mom, huh?” He said. Grogu cooed and Din closed the flap and continued on.

Din let his anger fuel him as he attacked the two stormtroopers guarding the cell. Stabbing one in the stomach and strangling the other before harshly breaking his neck. He shoved the data stick into the control panel and the cell door opened. Revealing Moff Gideon standing over Mandi holding a glowing sword. It was similar to Ahsoka’s blades, but black and shimmering and it made a different noise. Din immediately drew his blaster and Gideon gave him an annoyed look. “Drop the blaster.” He said. Din slowly set his blaster on the ground and kicked it over to the man as per his request.

“Give her to me.” Din hissed. "She's fine where she is," Gideon replied. He waved the light sword over Mandi's head and the little girl reached up for it. Din's heart skipped a beat, thankfully it was just out of her reach. Gideon began talking about the sword he held but Din could care less. He heard something about how it had belonged to Bo-Katan and that it held great power, his mind skipped over the part about ruling over Mandalore.

"You keep it, I just want her," Din said. "Ah, I'm guessing you want her mother as well," Gideon replied, his voice cold. "Where is she?" Din growled. "She served her purpose, and so has this one," the agent spoke. "I only wanted to study her blood. She has incredible abilities much like the child in your bag.” Din stood, unmoving. “Alas, I have all I need from her. Take her, but you will leave my ship immediately and we will go our separate ways.” Din took a steadying breath and walked to Mandi as Gideon turned off the sword and walked towards the door. Din was almost to Mandi when the sword clashed with his jetpack.

Din detached Grogu’s bag and he thumped on the floor. Din blocked Gideon’s attacks with his vambraces , the other man using his strikes to drive Din out of the cell and into the hallway. Din dodged until they stood facing each other, he drew the spear off his back and readied himself.

Meanwhile, Grogu had sensed Mandi’s presence and crawled out of his bag. Mandi had started crying because of the loud clanging and clashing. She was laying on the bench above him where he couldn’t reach her. So he held out his little hands and concentrated, bringing her down to him.

Din was mostly on the defensive, managing a few offensive strikes that Gideon easily blocked. Din had practiced with the spear since he got it, it was clear Gideon only had a general idea of how to use the sword he possessed. Din’s spear clashed with the light weapon. He stabbed but Gideon grabbed the spear, Din pushed, driving him back. He hit the wall. One jerk of the spear and the sword flew out of his hands, deactivating when it hit the ground. Gideon slumped to the ground and Din pointed the spear at his throat.

“You’re sparing my life, well this should be interesting,” he said. Din swung the spear, striking Gideon across the face hard enough to ensure he would stay unconscious for a while. Din snatched the laser sword off the ground and stuck it into his belt, setting the spear onto his back. He heard Mandi crying and rushed into the cell. Grogu had gotten her down from the bench somehow and was standing beside her. Din kneeled next to the kids and brought Mandi into his arms.

“Shh, it’s ok, sweetheart. It’s alright, daddy’s here,” he comforted. He held her until she stopped crying, scooping Grogu into his arms too, holding them both close. He loved them both so much. “You both need to help me find Y/N now, ok?” Both children looked up at him with curious and willing eyes. Din managed to fit both of them into the bag. He locked Gideon’s hands in binders and dragged him into the cell, making sure to lock it. He then relied on the kids to guide him.

He figured she was probably somewhere on this level. Grogu took Mandi’s hand and acted as a translator for her powers. Mandi would whine and Grogu would coo back, as if they were talking, then Grogu would look up at Din and point in a certain direction. The kids led him down the hallway and took a few turns. They stopped him in front of another cell where both children whined. She was in here. He used the data stick to open the door. It opened to reveal a sight that made his blood run cold.

Y/N was laying in a heap on the floor. One of her eyes was purple and nearly swollen shut, there was blood running out of her nose which was bent at a weird angle; most likely broken. Her bottom lip was split and the knuckles on both her hands were bleeding. They had really done a number on her. Din knelt at her side, smoothing his hand over her cheek. “Y/N, wake up,” he shook her gently, “you need to wake up.” He took the kids out of their bag and set them next to her. Grogu waddled over and touched her face. He reached out to Mandi with his other hand and Din moved her closer so Grogu could grab her hand.

The kids both closed their eyes. Din wasn’t sure what they were doing but he removed a glove and touched his skin to her’s. It was like something had told him to, like he knew he could help this way. After a few seconds, Din suddenly felt exhausted as if something had drained his energy. He took shallow breaths, he felt like he’d just run for miles without stopping. He looked at the kids, they looked like they were straining so hard. Then Din began to see the change.

Y/N’s swollen eye slowly went back to normal, her nose moved back into place and the bleeding stopped, and her lip seemed to heal from the inside out. The kids strained harder. She suddenly woke up with a gasp and the kids stopped, Grogu falling down exhausted. Din helped Y/N sit up. “It’s me, it’s me. I’m here,” he said. Tears brimmed in Y/N’s eyes and she wrapped him in a tight hug. He wasn’t uncomfortable this time and hugged her back. “I’m so sorry I let this happen to you,” he said. She pulled away to sign to him.

It’s ok, I chose this. I knew what I was doing to keep you and Grogu safe.

“You shouldn’t have had to,” he told her. She shrugged and managed a smile. She noticed the kids and swooped them both up into her arms, kissing them both on the forehead.

Thank you for getting her and keeping her safe.

Din nodded. “Can you walk? We need to get Gideon and bring him up to the bridge to meet the others.” She nodded and Din offered to put the kids into his bag, which she let him do. They walked back to the other cell and opened it, he was still in there and still knocked out. Rage flared in Y/N’s eyes and she strode over to his body, grabbing his collar and punching him hard in the face. He woke up almost instantly from the impact. “I see you found her,” he addressed Din. “Get up,” Din snapped. Y/N helped Din haul the man to his feet. Din took the sword from his belt and activated it, pointing it at his back. “Move.”

~~~~

Everyone seemed relieved to see Din and Y/N walk in with both the kids and Gideon, alive. All except Bo-Katan who looked concerned, though Din didn’t know why. Cara was happy to see that Gideon was alive and captured, she could now turn him in to the New Republic. Gideon claimed that wasn’t why Bo-Katan was concerned. “Why don’t you kill him now and take it?” He said to her. Y/N grabbed his arm and shoved him down onto the stairs. “It’s yours now,” he said to Din. “What is?” He smiled, “the Darksaber, it belongs to you.”

Din deactivated the sword and walked over to hand it to Bo-Katan. “It belongs to her now,” he proclaimed. “She can��t take it,” Gideon announced with an evil smile. “It must be won, in battle.” Gideon went on to explain how claiming the Darksaber worked. Din didn’t seem to care. “I yield, it’s yours,” Din said. Gideon chuckled, explaining further and insulting Bo-Katan along the way. “He’s right,” she admitted. Din let out an annoyed sigh. “C’mon, just take it,” he hissed. He was tired of this, he just wanted to get out of here with Y/N and the kids.

The moment was interrupted by an alarm going off and Fennec went to check on it. “The ray shields have been breached,” she said. “How many life forms?” Bo asked. “None.” Was the reply. Y/N turned to Din.

The droids.

Gideon seemed confident in his droids. Everyone could see them advancing on the security feed, the intimidating droids making their way towards the bridge. Everyone looked at the systems and watched as the droids advanced on their position. Din set the saber on a control panel and set Grogu and Mandi down behind a console. Fennec called for the blast doors to be sealed and one of the other Mandalorians punched the button. “They’re here,” she said.

Everyone picked up their weapons, Y/N finding one on the ground to use. They heard the pounding on the doors as the droids began their infiltration, every person in the room ready to open fire the second the door broke down. Gideon began talking again, everyone heard his words but paid him no mind as the door began to bend. Y/N took a shaky deep breath.

Then another alarm started sounding and they could see a ship closing in through the viewports. A single X-Wing fighter. Cara seemed doubtful and the other two Mandalorians tried to make contact. No one saw Grogu stirring where Din had set him down. Y/N tried to get a look at the pilot, maybe it was someone she would recognize. The pounding on the door suddenly stopped for seemingly no reason. “Why did they stop?” Fennec questioned. Y/N touched Din’s arm and he looked at her.

They found a new target.

Everyone watched as the troopers turned to face whatever threat was coming from the X-Wing. A single figure in a black robe making their way down the empty halls. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. A Jedi. There was no one else it could be. Her suspicions were confirmed when the figure brandished a laser sword and entered combat with the dark troopers. At least they weren’t trying to get through the door anymore.

“A Jedi…” Bo-Katan breathed. Din turned to look at the screen and Y/N saw Moff Gideon start shaking, he knew he was done for if there was a Jedi coming their way. They all continued to watch as the Jedi cut through the droids like they were made of duraplast. Grogu had started to wander over to Bo-Katan’s screen when Moff Gideon struck. He shot at Bo with a blaster that he had gotten somehow, her armor deflected the blasts but it got her out of the way. He aimed at Grogu but Din was quicker, diving in front of the child and protecting him with his Beskar covered body.

Cara knocked the blaster away from him when he went to use it on himself and knocked him out with the end of her blaster rifle. Grogu had made it to the screen and touched his little hand to it, he knew that was a Jedi. Din pulled himself up to look at the screen and Y/N joined him with Mandi in her arms. The droids left the door and faced their attacker, waiting for him to get off the lift. Everyone held their breath.

The lift arrived and the Jedi cut down every droid before them, making it look effortless with the laser sword they carried. Din stood beside Grogu and watched as the Jedi arrived at the door, all the droids had been cut to pieces. Y/N’s breathing had become more shaky, she was scared. Grogu looked at Din and then pointed to the door, Din picked him up. “Open the doors,” Din said. No one moved. “I said: open the doors.” Fennec told him he was crazy as he set Grogu in a chair and pressed the button for the doors. Y/N held her breath, staying at the back of the room.

The door opened and the Jedi walked through the smoke onto the bridge. He stood for a second before deactivating his laser sword and removing his hood. Y/N instantly recognized him. “Are you a Jedi?” Din asked. The man confirmed, beckoning Grogu to him. The child whined and Din looked to the Jedi, “he doesn’t want to go with you.” “He wants your permission,” the man clarified. He went on to say that Grogu would never be safe if he wasn’t properly trained. Y/N was getting angry, her heart beating out of control. He was trying to separate them, Y/N had sworn she wouldn’t let anyone do that. She had thought that threat would come from Moff Gideon and it had, but she hadn’t expected a Jedi, especially this one, to try and separate a child from their parent. There was silence and she acted.

She cradled Mandi in one arm and snatched the Darksaber from the control panel where Din had set it, she strode across the room until she was standing between the Jedi and Mando. She activated the saber and pointed it at him, her eyes blazed with anger and defiance. The Jedi looked unaffected and Din was struck dumb, what was she doing?

“I...will n-not let-t you…t-ake this c-hild…”

Her chest was heaving from her harsh intakes of air and the saber was shaking in her nervous hands. Her words were hoarse and broken, but she could speak, barely enough to understand. The Jedi looked at her sympathetically, like the look you gave a mourning friend. “Y/N, you know I have-”

“No!” She shouted, “do not use my n-name. They will n-not be s-s-separated, Luke. I p-promised myssself that.” Everyone else in the room was confused by the things she was saying. “You of all p-people should u-understand that.” The Jedi she called Luke just stood, the same look remaining on his face, like he felt sorry for her. He was trying to reason with her.

Din was beyond confused. Why was Y/N threatening a Jedi? How did she know him? How did he know her! Was this the part of her past he didn’t know about, that she pretty much refused to talk about.

“I’m sure you’ve seen his abilities, you know he needs to be trained,” Luke said. “I know,” she swallowed, “but you c-can’t separate them…the Jedi in the past m-made that mistake. Don’t be l-like them.” Luke sighed. “There is no other option for him, even your own little one will need training when she comes of age,” he told her. Y/N looked down at Mandi, still pointing the saber at Luke. Tears welled in her eyes and Y/N blinked them away. “If you won’t l-listen to m-me, then perhaps y-you’ll listen to the Supreme Chancellor o-of the New Republic,” Y/N said.

“You don’t have to do this,” Luke pleaded as Y/N crossed the room. She deactivated the saber and stuck it in the waistband of her pants. She stood at the base control panel and pressed several buttons in sequence. Luke sighed softly and walked over to her. Everyone else exchanged glances not knowing what to do or say. Cara walked over by Din. “What’s going on?” She whispered. “I don’t know,” he answered.

Y/N turned on the long range communications and took down the shields for better signal, turning on the open frequency. “You’re attached to them,” Luke whispered from beside her. “Shut up,” she growled. She fiddled with the comms unit until a voice came through, one that Din recognized. “This is New Republic X-Wing M1-11, come in.” Y/N smirked, trying her best to clear her throat so she could be heard better. “Carson, it’s Y/N. How are you these days?” The man chuckled on the other end. “Y/N, I haven’t heard from you in years. How are you, kiddo?” Y/N smiled. “I could be better, I have a situation I need your help with. How fast can you make it to these coordinates I’m sending you?” She punched a few buttons, sending him their position in space.

Cara looked at Din. “I know that guy she’s talking to,” she whispered to him. “So do I,” Din said, “he tried to arrest me.” Cara chuckled. “Funny, he made me New Republic Marshal.” Din hummed, checking on Grogu who was still sitting in the chair.

“It might take a couple hours but we can be there,” Carson said, “What’s the occasion?” “Extraction. A few friends of mine managed to capture Moff Gideon,” she said. “You’re joking.” Y/N shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “Not joking, my friend. He’s unconscious on the floor next to me. I also have an issue with a certain Jedi that I would like the Chancellor’s help with.”

“I’ll relay the message to her. In the meantime, Trapper and I will head over there and escort your ship to a neutral planet where you can meet,” Carson explained. “Copy that,” Y/N said, “see you soon.” She ended the communication and turned to Luke. “Can we at least discuss something with the Chancellor?” She asked. “I suppose so,” he replied. She nodded and Luke nodded back at her. They turned to face the room of confused individuals. Fennec spoke first. “I can’t still be here when the New Republic arrives,” she said. “Will your friend be coming back? Can he come get you?” She thought for a moment. “I can comm him to come get me,” she said. Y/N motioned for her to have at the controls.

“So who are you?” Cara asked. “How come you have contacts with the New Republic?” Y/N looked at the floor almost in shame. “You didn’t tell them?” Luke said to her. She glanced at him then back at the floor. “Who are you?” Din asked. He needed answers, now. What had she been hiding from him? Y/N turned her head and glanced out the viewport at the stars. “Y/N, you need to tell me,” Din insisted. He walked a little closer to her. “What have you not been telling me?” He asked sternly.

Luke still stood next to her. “It’s a long story,” she said. “She didn’t tell you she was involved in the war, did she?” Luke asked Din. Din looked between Luke and Y/N. “What?” Cara set her blaster down. “That doesn’t explain much, how does she have such high contacts?” She looked at Y/N. “Supreme Chancellor Mothma, are you serious?” Y/N held Mandi tight to her and walked closer to the window. She and Luke exchanged glances, as if she was giving him permission to speak for her.

“Technically speaking, Y/N is the second most influential and powerful person in the New Republic,” Luke informed. “What? How?” Bo-Katan finally spoke. Luke looked at Y/N again before addressing everyone else in the room.

“She’s the Supreme Chancellor’s daughter.”

[meneatyoghurt]

Hm starting to second guess whether that is a dream TK is having after all.

It just seems like since he's in his PJs, it would make sense that it's actually after he gets home from the hospital. Plus the other image of the whole gang outside could be a flashback, but it could equally be after everything has thawed. Perhaps there's some hospital drama in the first half of the ep, then he wakes up and the second half could be once he's out of the hospital? Being out of the hospital doesn't mean he's completely recovered. And I imagine they don't want to keep him in hospital too long, it would get a little boring. But then if episode 4 is still in the ice storm, there can't be post-storm scenes in episode 3???

Some of the promo stuff seems to be kind of getting ahead of what's actually happening though. Or maybe it's just that certain things are happening slowly over multiple episodes. Like Grace's water breaks next episode, but she's still stuck out there with Billy in episode 4. I don't know, the promo stuff feels weird this season.

I'm very confused.

[imaginetonyandbucky]

(Give Me A) Reason To Live

Chapter 2

by @dracusfyre

“Do you know where they are planning to take him?” James asked as he headed for the stairs up to his room. Tony started to follow him then realized that James was going to drop his towel to get dressed and after a moment of temptation, stayed at the bottom of the stairs instead.

“SHIELD facility in New York,” Tony called up, trying very hard to concentrate on anything except what his imagination was currently trying to show him regarding a naked James next to a bed.

“SHIELD SHIELD, or Hydra SHIELD?” James said from above, voice slightly muffled.

“SHIELD SHIELD, as far as I can tell,” Tony said. “Fury himself is taking the lead, for now. But there’s always the question of what will happen after he wakes up, and I’m sure Hydra will be trying to weasel themselves into those plans.”

“True.” James jogged back down the stairs, his shirt clinging to damp skin and hair pulled away from his face. “So what do you think? Intercept before or after he wakes up?”

“After, I think.” Tony led him downstairs to the lab, where James had his own computer setup. He sat down at it and powered it on while Tony fired up the fancy coffee machine in the back of the room. “I mean, we have no idea how to thaw out someone safely, and no equipment to do so if we did.”

“True.” James pulled up the Hydra files and read the message that had sent Tony racing up the stairs, then started searching for the exact location of the Valkyrie and the NY SHIELD office to start planning. After a few weeks of fits and starts due to poor communication, they had finally settled into a good division of labor: Tony dug through the files for appropriate targets and when he had them, James would come up with the actual plan of attack. “The exfil will be a lot easier if he’s awake.”

Tony nodded and silence reigned for a long time, broken only by the sound of keyboards and James occasionally making notes. He didn’t realize he had fallen asleep at his desk until James shook him awake and herded him to bed. He’d been having a dream about Captain America, some fuzzy half-remembered thing where the man was scolding him for something, then he had turned into Tony’s father and sent Tony to his room. You didn’t have to be a shrink to pick up on that symbolism, Tony thought as he fell into bed.

“You should get undressed,” James said and Tony froze, suddenly wide awake as his heart hammered. Did he really…?

“What?” He managed, rolling over to look up at James.

Who raised an eyebrow and pointed to Tony’s feet. “You’re still wearing the shoes we went hiking in,” he pointed out, and Tony let his head fall back against the pillows as his face got hot.

“Right,” he mumbled, and toed them off to fall on the floor. James was still standing there, looking expectant, so with a put-upon sigh Tony sat up and started peeling off the rest of his clothes as well.

“This is going to change everything, isn’t it?” he said as James started to leave. “This thing with Cap?”

James hesitated at the door, the hand on the door frame gleaming in the dim light from the computers in the next room. “Get some sleep, Tony,” he said after a moment. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

There was that sick feeling again. Tony tossed his clothes in the corner and fell back into bed, and recited the digits of pi until he fell asleep.

                                                 ~~~~~

By the time Tony woke up and stumbled up the stairs, James was awake and thankfully already making breakfast. He shuffled up to the kitchen table and muttered a thanks as James slid a cup of coffee across the table. James knew better than to attempt conversation before Tony was ready, so they sat and ate in silence until Tony was finally awake enough to say, “Any news?”

“Nothing much. They needed special equipment to break through the ice without destabilizing the plane and sending it to the bottom of the ocean,” James said between bites of pancake.

“So we’ve got time?”

“Little bit.”

“Got a plan?”  At that, James tilted his head back and forth in an eh, sort of motion. “What do you need?”

“More intel.”

Tony just grunted and finished off his coffee. If James still had questions they would be ready and waiting for Tony downstairs, and since they had time, Tony needed at least one more cup of coffee before dealing with that. He pushed away from the table and put his plate in the dishwasher, then refilled his coffee and sat back down while James kept eating. This was another good system that they’d figured out over the past year; James ate twice as much as Tony, at least, to power that supersoldier metabolism, which worked out because by the time James was done eating, Tony was finished with his second cup of coffee and they were both ready to start the day.  “Hey, where’s he going to sleep?” Tony blurted out without thinking, then cringed. “Nevermind, that’s a stupid question.”

James just shrugged as he used his last bite to sop up some maple syrup. “Dunno. One of us will have to double bunk with someone, or take the couch, or get another mattress. Does it matter?”

“No, of course not.”

But James was eyeing him thoughtfully. “Is that what you meant? Last night?”

“Huh?”

“You said this was going to change everything.”

“Oh.” Tony looked down at his coffee cup to avoid James’ eyes. “I, uh, I meant we’re not going to be able to fly under the radar anymore, you know? After stealing Captain America out from under SHIELD and Hydra’s noses.”

“True.” As James picked up his plate and put it in the dishwasher as well, he said, “You should call him Steve. We’re rescuing Steve Rogers, not Captain America.”

Right. Of course. Like Tony could forget that James and Cap- Steve had a past. “Yeah, sure, sorry,” Tony muttered, taking a sip of coffee against the sour taste in his mouth. “I’ll head downstairs and get started on that intel.”

Once downstairs, he could see why James had left these questions to him. Questions like finding the building plans for the SHIELD facility and learning which personnel were going to be assigned to Steve were going to take some hacking to find out. Fortunately, when it came to SHIELD, Hydra was already infested in their systems, and Tony had a backdoor to Hydra, so by lunch time he was jogging back up the stairs to tell James what he’d found and almost tripped over a Barret MK22.

“Careful,” James said, sitting at the center of what looked like an explosion in a firearms factory. “I thought you’d be down there for longer.”

“Packing for the trip?” Tony asked, stepping carefully around the sniper rifle and picking his way through the rest of James’ collection towards the kitchen.

“Planning. Trying to figure out what we might need to pick up before we go.”

“I got that info for you, if that helps your planning.” Tony took one of the many frozen meals out of the freezer and popped it in the microwave. “Looks like they are keeping this information pretty close to the chest, which is good for us. Not going to be a lot of attention on him when it comes time to do our thing.” James only made an absent noise, clearly still lost in thought as he stared at a stack of C4, so for a while there was only the humming of the microwave until Tony got impatient and opened the door early. “I’ll be downstairs,” he told James as he grabbed a fork and gingerly picked up his molten hot lasagna.

“I’m coming,” James said, getting to his feet with a smooth, easy motion that made Tony feel every one of his years. Tony settled down in his computer chair as James stood behind him, leaving Tony with a prickling awareness of how close he was. Tony took a deep breath to steady himself and pulled up the report he’d slapped together. First was the building plan, and after it got James’ nod of approval Tony sent it to the jumbo printer because he knew that James liked to work off of hard copies. Next was a series of internal shield memos proposing a variety of plans for what to do when Steve woke up, and James snorted derisively as he read them. “Not a single one of these people know anything about Steve, do they?”

“I mean, only what they learned from history books, I guess. What would you do?”

“You mean what am I going to do? I’m going to say, ‘Wake the fuck up, Steve, we gotta get out of here now follow me.’”

Tony laughed and saw James’ mouth curl up at the corners. “Simple and effective. I like it.” Since SHIELD was still trying to decide its plan of action, Tony dismissed the emails and started pulling up the personnel list.  Like he’d said, it wasn’t long; SHIELD was playing this one close to the vest for now.

“Wait.” Tony immediately stopped scrolling as James leaned over his shoulder, smelling like shower soap and gun oil. “I know her,” James said, frowning. He pointed at the redhead. “Who is she?”

“Well, her SHIELD ID says Natalie Rushman,” Tony said. “Is she Hydra?”

“No…” James said slowly, eyebrows drawing together as he tried to remember. Many of his memories had come back surprisingly quickly once they’d escaped Hydra, making for some really touch-and-go moments in the early months as James had often woken up screaming from nightmares and had wandered around the cabin hollow-eyed and haunted. Going into the woods had been his escape in those days, and he’d only told Tony what he was up to after Tony had gotten cabin fever and decided to go for a hike and figure out what all the hype was about with fresh air and nature. “I think I shot her once.”

“Think she’d know your face?”

“Maybe.” Tony could tell that James was still frustrated by the almost-there memory so he left the image up on the screen for him to stare at.

“That’ll be a complication, since she’s part of his reintegration team,” Tony mused. “Strangely enough, I guess that means between the two of us, I’ll be the one least likely to be recognized. Not something I ever thought I’d say.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Um…” Tony squinted at James and realized that obviously James wouldn’t know much about Tony’s past, other than what he’d told him or what James would have seen in the Hydra files. Especially if it hadn’t occurred to James to look him up on the internet, which he guessed was possible. “I was, uh, kind of a celebrity.”

“What for? Were you a movie star or something?”

Tony made a face. He didn’t want to admit that he was mostly famous for a series of sex scandals to someone who had personally known Captain America. “Nothing good,” he said finally. “Stupid stuff.” No chance James wasn’t going to Google him now, but at least he wouldn’t have to explain to James’ face why there were so many pictures on the internet of him naked. Thankfully, James just shrugged, apparently willing to leave it at that, so Tony quickly went through the rest of the items on James’ list. There was also no further updates on the efforts to get Steve out of the ice, so they were officially in Tony’s least favorite part of any operation: the hurry up and wait part.

With nothing else to do in the lab, Tony set JARVIS to keep an eye on any further communication and followed James back up the stairs. Since the couch was the only part of the living room that wasn’t covered in some kind of weapon, Tony perched on it and turned on the TV while James organized his collection. Making sad noises at James got him his forgotten lasagna from downstairs with the low, low cost of grumbling and an eye roll, leaving Tony to have a pleasant couple of hours hanging out in companionable silence with James. At some point, James had changed position to lean against the couch while sitting on the floor, which had meant that his back was pressing against Tony’s leg, warm and solid and something Tony only thought about every 15 seconds or so for a solid hour.  

“I was thinking about what you said earlier,” James said after a while, sitting up and sadly moving away from Tony as he started to put away the weapons, sorting them into piles and returning some to their hiding places. “About this operation breaking our cover.”

“Yeah?”

“Your suit. Could you make it flashy?”

“Flashy?” Tony echoed in confusion. He had a couple of suit builds now, based on the various types of missions they went on, but all of them were matte black and had a rubberized exterior to reduce the noise and radar profile. “I mean, sure, that wouldn’t be hard. But why?”

“Our best bet might be for you to create a distraction, and I think you zooming down 5th Avenue would be a good distraction.”

Tony stared at him, stomach turning as his whole body went hot and cold with fear. “No,” he said shakily, turning away from James and sliding further into the couch, staring resolutely at the TV screen. “No fucking way.” Tony pulled the blanket tighter around himself, curling into a ball. Everything depended on him not being seen, on Hydra not knowing he was alive. Everything. How could James not know that? Was Tony supposed to jump at the chance to sacrifice himself for Steve? Because one look at the suit and Hydra would know, Stane would know, and then– then-

A sudden warm hand on his shoulder made him jump and lash out. When his hands only met hard muscle fight turned to flight and he scrambled away. But as he tried to get to his feet he tripped over a blanket and hit the floor hard, knocking the wind out of him. His heart was pounding in his ears but eventually he heard James talking to him, saying “Tony, fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize, just wait,” and that was like a bucket of water to the face. He realized he was sweating and his breathing was fast and shallow, and as he looked up at James he felt the hot crawl of humiliation.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly as he climbed to his feet. “I’m going to take a shower.” He could feel the pressure of James’ eyes and his silence against his back as he went to the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He shook for a while, leaning against the bathroom door, before he finally managed to turn on the shower.

The awkwardness lasted until dinner, with James clearly wanting to say something but unsure how to bring it up, and Tony too embarrassed to meet his eye or give him an opening. Thankfully, JARVIS gave them an update halfway through dinner, and the tension eased as conversation turned towards their plan. Since James had cooked, Tony reluctantly got up to do the dishes, only to have James gently crowd him away from the sink. “You need to get ready for the mission,” James pointed out, which was a flimsy excuse because it didn’t take that long to get the suit ready to go now that Tony had figured out how to make it deploy from something the size of a suitcase, but Tony didn’t argue. He hated doing dishes.

It was also better than staying upstairs and risking that James would say something, so he went downstairs to prep the suit. Once down there, though, he slowed as he approached the Mark VII, remembering James’ suggestion earlier. Though the thought still make his limbs feel weak and his heart race, he forced himself to sit down and consider the idea instead of running from it. He knew what James had been trying to suggest; he could get the attention of the police and any SHIELD agents in the area and draw them away from James while he rescued Steve. He could even put a few holes in the building to cover their escape then disappear as soon as they were clear. It was smart, it was simple, and it was fucking terrifying.

Though there was no escaping the fact that Tony had put in a lot of effort making sure Hydra would think he was dead, and this was going to undo all of that work. “Fuck,” Tony groaned, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. It wasn’t like James wasn’t risking everything, too, but apparently he was willing to let Tony take the cowards way out even if it made their plan harder. “JARVIS,” he said finally, voice muffled behind his hands. “Warm up the machines, we’re modifying one of the suits. We’re changing up the armor.” What was an eye-catching color? Probably red, a bright red. All the better to wave himself in front of the metaphorical bull. But all red would look like shit. “Red and gold,” Tony said finally. “Make me a mockup of the armor in red and gold.”

[hallowed-be-thy-username]

Clothing Is Custom, No Labels: Part One

“No matches on prints, DNA, dental. Clothing is custom, no labels. Nothing in his pockets but knives and lint. No name, no other alias.”

Summary: You’re one of the last bespoke tailors in town, making suits and custom clothing for Gotham’s elite. Business men and women, well known lawyers, the Wayne family, and... the Joker?

Genre: Self-insert

Pairing: Ledger!Joker x fem reader 

Warnings: Some cursing

Word count: 1,667

Authors Note: Here comes part one! I recommend reading the Introduction first if you haven’t 💜

Inspirational Music: Beat the Devil’s Tattoo by Black Rebel Motorcycle Club

                                    - Part One -

Sleep did not come easily to you last night. You tossed and turned, worry about this cryptic meeting flooding your dreams and stirring you awake throughout the night. The lack of good sleep left you feeling hazy and distracted. So hazy that you didn’t see the uneven patch of sidewalk beneath your feet. Your hands shot out in front of you to catch yourself, the rough pavement scraping your palms.

You huffed as you stood up and brushed off your sore hands on your pants. Fucking sidewalk. You pass that patch of sidewalk every day and every day, you walk around it. But not today. Today has decided to be different.

Your keys jingled as you unlocked the back door to the shop, yawning with coffee in hand. It was going to be rough, staying here late tonight. After you opened the front curtains and switched on the lights, you reached behind the desk to turn the news on in the background while you readied the shop to open.

“Several Gotham city banks have been robbed within the last week. This string of robberies has left many dead on the scene at each location, all of whom are assumed to be accomplices, as reported by eye witnesses. If that wasn’t strange enough, all of them have been wearing clown masks,” you heard the GCN anchor say from your little tv.

What did he just say? You left the mannequin you were preparing to dress in the window and took long strides back to the desk.

“It is estimated that over sixty million dollars has been stolen thus far. Police have had few leads as their investigation continues but one man appears to be the driving force behind the robberies. Gotham PD has released this photo, captured by security cameras at Gotham National Bank just yesterday,” the anchor continued before an image flashed on the screen.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched in your throat at the sight of a man in ghostly white makeup with black around his eyes, a blood red smile over his lips and two jagged scars curling up from both corners of his mouth, staring straight at the camera.

“Nothing else is known about this man other than that he goes by the alias, ‘the Joker’, leaving a Joker playing card behind at many of the crime scenes. If you have any information on the man pictured, please contact the anonymous tip line listed at the bottom of your screen.”

You switched the tv off, a shiver running down your spine. That image was burned into your eyes, as clear as it was on the screen moments ago. You blinked a few times but it was still there, staring at you. The Joker. Those eyes just gazed straight through the screen and locked with yours. It was unsettling but you couldn’t help but feel something else. Overwhelming curiosity. Who was this guy? Why did he paint his face? Where did he even come from? This was the first you’d heard of him. Not to mention those scars. Flesh viciously sliced apart, torn clean through, leaving behind a macabre permanent smile. A strange feeling tugged at your stomach as you thought about the pain he must have felt. They were so… terrifying.

The sound of the door opening jolted you out of your trance as you jumped and whipped around to face the door.

“Oh, sorry about that. Didn’t mean to scare you. Where do you want me to leave these?”

A delivery guy stood just inside the doorway with a handcart stacked with boxes. You shook your head and answered with an embarrassed smile, “It’s ok, I guess I’m a little jumpy today. You can leave them anywhere back there, thanks.”

You pointed toward the back room and he nodded on his way to drop them off. Shit, maybe you shouldn’t drink that coffee.

The afternoon crawled by at a frustratingly sluggish pace. The ticking of time made you impatient for the day to be done but simultaneously anxious about the very same idea. A particularly needy woman with perfume that burned your nose picked up an altered dress and a man looking to get his pants hemmed to fit his unfortunately short stature took up some of your time but it was still an hour before closing time. Your stomach fluttered for a second. Tonight it wasn’t really closing time. You decided to preoccupy yourself with a book you’d meaning to read, sitting down and leaning back in your chair, getting comfortable at the desk. Maybe you’d run out to grab a bite to eat soon.

Your eyelids flew open as you suddenly awoke with a start. The shop was dark. You scrambled from your chair to find the clock, grabbing it from the counter and turning it around. 9:40 pm.

Your heart started pounding in your chest, the meeting with your new mystery client was dangerously close. You cursed under your breath and rushed to close the front curtains, hoping to avoid anyone else trying to come in. It was a miracle you weren’t robbed in the first place.

Reality rushed over you and your hands started to shake with unease. Why were you so nervous? Well, this has never happened to you before. Men bringing you that much money ahead of time, in cash no less. Asking, no, telling you to stay open late for them. It was just weird. Weird in a way that made the little hairs on the back of your neck stand up. And now it was here.

A few deep breaths did something to calm your nerves a bit, at least until the hands on the clock reached 9:58. 

Headlights illuminated the maroon velvet curtains over the windows, sending your heart rate soaring once again. He’s here.

Suddenly, an urge to hide made your legs twitch as you stood in front of the desk but you resisted it, fighting to keep yourself from running to the back room. Your heart continued to pound and was joined by a shudder down your spine as you caught sight of two silhouettes, figures cast in shadow over the curtains that were moving toward the door.

You held your breath when the door opened. It was the bald man from yesterday. He made eye contact with you and blinked. You tensed up, waiting for him to say something, but instead he let go of the door to disappear back outside.

What?

Before you could react, the door opened again and a different man stepped into the shop.

You halted in place, staring at him. His hair was stringy and tinted green. His face. His face was covered with a layer of white paint, black smeared around his eyes, that devilish red smile that had been floating around in the back of your mind all day. It was him.

You couldn’t move. You willed your body to do something, anything other than stare at the man with the Glasgow smile in front of you. But that’s all you could do. Blood rushed in your ears as you stood there, trapped in your own body, for what felt like far too long.

He took a few steps toward you, thawing your muscles instantly for you to back up and bump into the desk, your eyes still on him.

“What’s the matter, hm? You look nervous. Is it the scars?” he spoke as he gestured toward his face.

His voice was peculiar. Somewhat high and nasally but deep and gravelly at the same time.

Your mouth opened to speak before you had any words in mind to say. “Uh, um. N-no. I, um, I just recognized you from the, the news,” you sputtered, trying not to visibly tremble.

His eyebrows shot up and he grinned as he replied, “Ahhh, little old me? Well I’m, uh, flatter-ed.”

The only thing you could do was nod as you continued to gaze wide-eyed at him, your hands gripping the edge of the desk behind you like a vice. The way he pronounced words was hypnotizing. They were spoken so deliberately, so carefully chosen.

“Well, as much as I’d love to continue with this, uh, ban-ter of ours, I believe you can make me a suit, yes?” he continued.

You suddenly stiffened to attention after his statement registered in your mind, your already hammering heart flipping uncomfortably in your chest.

“Oh, um, yes. Y-yes I can,” you managed to stutter.

He clapped his hands together, making you jump slightly. “Fan-tastic! Shall we?” he said enthusiastically, extending his arm out toward the mirrored area of the shop.

He waited a moment for you to move, only to watch you continue to stare like an antelope caught in a  lion’s gaze before flicking his tongue out over his scarred lip and sauntering over on his own.

Deep breaths. You took deep breaths, so quickly that they were making you nauseous. You had to try to relax. What if you made him angry? He’s killed people. What would he do if you messed up? It’s too late to back out. You swallowed hard against the lump growing in your throat. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this…

He started thumbing through the books of fabric swatches on the nearby table, scrutinizing each with his eyes and occasionally raising an eyebrow as you slowly approached with pins and needles buzzing in your hands. He suddenly flicked one of the books shut and raised his eyes to meet yours once again, making you stop in your tracks and hold back a gasp.

“Now, what do I call you, doll?” he asked, his dark eyes fixed on yours.

Your words tumbled out, responding all on their own, “Y/N.”

His gaze had captured you again and this time it was drawing you in. The room around you seemed to dissolve and all you could focus on were his spellbinding eyes.

“Y/N, call me Joker,” he purred.

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

@amethystmoonprincess @call-me-harley-quinn @paev 💜

[charincharge]

Kiss and Cry, Part 5

jurdan figure skating au > masterlist

Jude rubbed her temple, which throbbed with pain from too little sleep and caffeine deprivation. Images of Cardan and Locke swam through her mind, distracting her, no matter how hard she tried to focus on the new choreography. Jude was ready to punch something; she’d never had a problem picking up moves before, and Cardan was making her look incompetent. Not only that, but Madoc was getting progressively more frustrated with her.

“No, it’s crossover with arms, tilt, arabesque then into the lift,” Madoc yelled as Jude fumbled the order of the choreography again. “Try it again.”

Jude marked the arm motion and titled her torso to the side, then lifted her leg and spun toward Cardan, who waited patiently with open arms, ready to assist in the lift, the picture of rested and calm.

Jude was even more bothered by that part.

She hopped up and gasped as Cardan’s fingers brushed beneath her breasts. Jude snapped her head towards his smirking face, and she couldn’t help but jab her elbow into his shoulder. The small smile disappeared quickly as Cardan hissed in pain and let Jude wriggle out of his grasp. She breathed deeply, brows furrowed as she glared daggers in his general direction.

“What the hell?” He rubbed at his tender muscle.

“That’s not my waist, Cardan,” Jude hissed. “Watch your hands.”

Cardan rolled his dark eyes. “You’re just so much shorter than Nicasia,” he explained seriously, but Jude could see the amusement in his eyes. “I just need to adjust.”

“Well, adjust faster,” Jude seethed. She knew he was doing it on purpose. And it was pushing her to her limit. Cardan held up his hands in apology.

“Take five,” Madoc sighed, clearly exasperated with the pair in front of him.

That was fine by Jude. She grabbed her empty water bottle and walked out into the hallway to fill it at the water fountain. Cardan slinked up behind her as the water poured into the bottle, and Jude could feel herself tense at the feeling of him hovering behind her.

“Can I help you?” she ground out, refusing to look over her shoulder.

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Cardan retorted quicky. “I’ve never seen you so out of sorts,” he continued.

“I didn’t sleep well,” Jude replied, screwing the top onto her bottle and taking a long sip.

“Funny,” Cardan said. “I slept like a rock.”

Jude couldn’t help but grimace, remembering why Cardan was so well rested. Images of his lithe body in the throes of ecstasy flashed through her mind. She didn’t know why it irritated her so much. But it did.

“Gross.”

“Hmm,” Cardan hummed, his dark eyes slowly perusing Jude’s form. She suddenly felt self-conscious.

“What?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t realize you were such a slut shamer,” Cardan retorted, his eyes suddenly amused with his own realization.

Jude knew he was trying to rile her up – but she was too aggravated and exhausted and couldn’t help but take the bait.

“I’m not,” she said, jutting her chin out stubbornly.

“I mean, you’re clearly judging me. So, either you’re offended by my sexual activity, or you’re homophobic,” Cardan prattled on, circling the water bottle in his hand with his hand, moving it up and down the cylinder in the most phallic motion he could imagine. Jude cringed again. “Neither is a good look.”

“I just think sex should be private,” she replied, her face warming slightly as she continued to track Cardan’s hand’s motions around his water bottle.

Cardan barked out a loud laugh. “That’s rich, coming from the girl who barged into the men’s locker room.”

Jude’s blush deepened. He had a point, but Jude had no idea what she’d be walking into when she’d gone to confront him.

“You know what I think?” Cardan took a step toward her, infringing upon her personal, and Jude inhaled sharply as his finger twisted itself in one of her chestnut curls. She held her breath, her body going still beneath his touch. “I think you’re jealous.” Cardan’s lips twitched upwards into a wry smile as fury overcame Jude.

“In your dreams,” Jude bit back, pushing his hand away from her face, out of her hair. She needed space.

Cardan bit his lip and his dark eyes became somehow impossibly darker. “Oh, dear Jude, you have no idea how right you are. The things you do with me in my dreams would positively shock you.”

“What, like stab you?” She mimed attacking him, her arm poised with an imaginary blade in her hand.

Cardan laughed, his head tilted back as the joyous noise reverberated through the hallway. “That wouldn’t be shocking to either of us, now would it?” he said, taking another step closer to her. Jude instinctively took a step back, needing to maintain her space.

As if challenged, Cardan took another step forward, until Jude had backed up into the wall. She hadn’t realized she’d inadvertently trapped herself. With no escape, Cardan hovered over her, looming tall and far too interested in her. She’d never been the object of his attention like this before, and it was unnerving. Jude shivered, feeling his warmth radiate between them.  

He leaned down, his breath ghosting over her face as he whispered, “If you need a teacher, just let me know. I’d be most happy to educate you,” he smiled again, and Jude suddenly wasn’t so sure he was making fun of her or not. “With proper instruction maybe you’d finally see that sex isn’t evil.”

“You’re disgusting,” Jude breathed. She attempted to inject some vitriol into her tone, but it was hoarse and husky even to her own ears.

“Ah yes, there’s that frigid exterior I’d love to thaw…” Cardan ran his finger down her cheek, watching the color bloom beneath his touch, but it was short-lived.

“Frigid?” Jude froze, a proverbial bucket of ice water spilling down her back. “You sexist piece of shit.”

Jude ducked under his arm, breathing hard. It wasn’t the first time a man had used that word against her, and it stung. As if being more interested in skating than physical intimacy somehow made her unworthy of romantic attention.

Cardan’s confident face faltered for a second. “I didn’t mean…”

“Didn’t mean to call me frigid?” Jude scoffed. “A commonly sexist term used to describe women who are more sexually conservative? Asshole.” Jude was sure their break was over, and she didn’t want to stand here having this conversation anymore. She began to head back into the studio.

“Jude, I’m sorry,” Cardan apologized as he trailed after her. “I wasn’t thinking.” He reached out and brushed his hand against his shoulder, retracting it quickly when Jude flinched under his touch. “I meant that you’re cold, icy…not that…”

“Whatever, Cardan.” Jude pulled her hair into a fresh bun, tightening her elastic and securing her loose strands. She wouldn’t show him how his words hurt. Instead, she placed on a ferocious mask, ready to attack her choreography.

She stood in front of the mirror and ignored the way Cardan’s dark eyes continuously sought hers out. She’d look anywhere but at him.

His hands remained respectful as she learned the routine, sticking to the safe spots of her waist, hands and calves.

Jude dug into the choreography, refocusing and letting it fill her body until it became second nature. She refused to let Cardan get under her skin, into her head.

“Much better,” Madoc sighed, relieved, as they finished their final run through of the morning. “Let’s call it.”

Jude was anxious to get the hell out of there, and away from Cardan, but Cardan stopped her again with another apology.

“Jude, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—” he began again, but Jude held out her hand to stop him.

“Listen, we’re stuck with each other for the next month during practice,” Jude said. “I can’t get out of that. But, the rest of my life is mine. So, just leave me the fuck alone, okay?”

Cardan’s gaze hardened as he nodded, acquiescing to her request.

“Cardan, Jude,” Madoc shouted from back inside the studio. They both walked back to the doorway, waiting expectantly for their coach. “I’m being honored at the Champions On Ice benefit Gala this weekend. As the placing leaders of this team, I’d like you both to introduce me.” Cardan and Jude glanced at each other tentatively. “Please work together to come up with an appropriate tribute. And, yes, it will be black tie, so dress accordingly.” Neither Cardan nor Jude said a word to their coach, so he continued. “Is that going to be an issue?” They shook their heads. “Great.” Madoc clapped his hands. “See you tomorrow.”

Jude glanced over her shoulder at Cardan trailing after her. “I guess we’ll be spending more time together, hm? Should we grab lunch?”  he asked.

She spun around, watching a surprised Cardan pause his pursuit. “Nice try, Cardan. Just draft something up and email it to me, and I’ll do a pass and send it back.”

She turned around again, not seeing Cardan and his sagging shoulders in the middle of the parking lot.

~*~

let me know if you’d like to be added to my jurdan taglist – HERE

tag list:

@sarahjmaasslave​

@thewickedkings​

@studyforthestars99​

@feed-the-madness01​

@brit-alltoowell

@gabs-2002​

@sophiekarim​

@justfangirling​

@isardinesinacanblog

@snusbandxknifewife​

@cosmosstarstudio​

@wannawriteyouabook​

@aneurwin​

@bookieworm​

@taco-taco-belle

@cardan-greenbriar-tcp​

@courtofjurdan​

@im-wintermelody​

@aelinfeyreeleven945tbln​

@st00pid231​

@herladyshipxx​

@sanakapoor​

@abookishfreak​

@delfidemarco​

@januarystears​

@l0sts0uls1128

@df3ndyr​

@hizqueen4life​

@maastrash​

@justgiu12​

@aknymph​

@bamchickawowow​

@thewayshedreamed​

@strangeenemy​

@studyliketate​

@iammissstark​

@heirofthenightcourt​

@acourtofmarauders​

@cmoff1​

@stardelia​

@b00kworm​

@wordsafterhours​

@m-like-magic

@the-third-me​

@cursebreaker29​

@annejulianneh111

@queen-of-glass​

@aesthetics-11​

@xhopelessdreamer​

@babycardan

@illyrian-velaris

@galyxsy

@rolltide7​

@keshavomit​

@yuya1487

@minaidss​

@tswaney17​

@ladywitchling​

[mdemontespan1667]

THE LESSON

DARK! STEVE X READER

SYNOPSIS: STEVE’S NOT A FAN OF READERS LIFESTYLE (TAKES PLACE BETWEEN HIM BEING THAWED AND THE FIRST AVENGERS MOVIE)

WARNINGS: NON-CON/ORAL SEX (F/F AND M/F)/VAGINAL SEX/SLAPPING/CHOKING/VIOLENCE TOWARDS READER/BONDAGE

THIS IS FOR @the-omni-princess​ 1K WRITING CHALLENGE. I apologize for being sooooooooooooo late. Huge congrats!

My song prompt was Bad Reputation by Joan Jett and the Heartbreakers

“Oh fuck.”

You hissed through your teeth. The mouth currently latched onto your clit was nothing short of expert. 

“That’s it baby, keep going, I’m…..”

Words failed as the orgasm washed over you.

“Damn, what a way to wake up.”

The blond flipped the comforter back. Her hair was a mess, lips red, glossy with your slick. 

Wrapping your arms around her waist, you guided her hips until she was straddling your face. 

“My turn.”

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

An hour later you were kissing her goodbye. 

As you watched her cute, leather clad ass sashay down the hallway you noticed your new neighbor standing just outside his door, staring. 

“That get your dick hard.”

“I, No, of course not,” he sputtered, “It’s just, that’s the third different person I’ve seen leaving this week.”

“And,” you asked, hands on your hips.

“And, well, this one’s a girl.”

“Very good Captain Rogers,” you smirked, “Now if you’ll excuse me I have to go clean up. We fucked on EVERYTHING.”

The look of shock on his face as you closed your door was priceless.

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

Four days later you were kissing another lover goodbye. Chad, Curtis, Craig, Chris, or something like that hadn’t quite lived up to his boasts, but, at least in your experience, the boastful ones rarely did.

Just your luck Captain Killjoy was returning from his morning run. His disapproving gaze caught yours.

“What,” you folded your arms across your chest.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing my ass. What the hell is your problem.”

“I’ve just never seen a woman act like you do. It’s not proper. In my day if a lady, uh, entertained as many people as you have they’d get a reputation. A not very nice one.”

“Oooohhhh. I guess I better mend my evil ways before I get a bad reputation. Can’t have people thinking I like getting fucked can I.”

You sauntered across the hallway.

Standing on your tiptoes you ran your tongue up his neck, nibbling his earlobe. You hand dropped down, stroking his dick over the grey sweats.

“You can’t tell me you don’t like this.”

“I, you need to stop.”

Steve made a weak attempt to push you away.

“Why.”

Your hand kept up its gentle assault.

“I know you like it Captain,” the last word dripped from your tongue. 

Steve reached back, fumbling with the knob. His door opened wide enough for him squeeze through, you laughter following.

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

Things had changed and not for the better, Steve thought later in the shower. Sure, there had been women who were free with their favors before he went into the ice but never as blatant as his neighbor. Even prostitutes weren’t as brazen.

It was nothing but disgusting how she flaunted her behavior. Someone needed to take her over their knees and give her a good spanking.

At that thought his cock gave a little jump. An image of her, naked, draped over his knees flared to life. With a mind of its own his hand gripped his member, pumping it slow. She’d probably beg for him to stop, tears running down her face.  His hand moved faster. Her ass would be cherry red before he finished. Maybe he wouldn’t stop there either. Maybe he’d do all the dirty things he’d dreamt of back when no woman would give him a second glance. Whether she wanted to or not. After all, she was the one with the bad reputation, not him. No one would believe her.

Steve came with a moan, his cum staining the shower tiles. As he cleaned up a plan started to form.

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

“Just a minute.”

Opening the door you were shocked to see your neighbor.

“What do you want. I’m not in the mood for a lecture.”

Steve held up a six pack and a takeout bag from your favorite burger joint.

“Peace offering. I wanted to apologize for being a jerk. I’m, uh, still trying to adjust.”

You crossed your arms, leaned against the door frame.

“No more commentary on my love life. Not even a side eye.”

“Nope. Not a word. It’s none of my business. Promise.”

“Alright,” you stepped back, “come on in. I hope you got extra fries.”

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

“So other than the sexual revolution what’s been the hardest thing to adjust to.”

The two of you were on opposite ends of your couch, fries spread out in their wrapper between you.

Steve took a long drink from his beer.

“It’s going to sound dumb but nothing ever closes. Ever. No matter what time, day or night, you can buy anything you want or do anything you want.”

“Huh. I would’ve figured it was all the tech. You know cell phones, laptops, the internet…”

“Hey, are you ok.”

Your head snapped up.

“What. Yeah I’m fine. I just…”

You tried to stand up but your legs felt weighted down.

“You sure you’re ok.”

Steve’s voice sounded far away but an edge was still noticeable. 

“I’m, what’s….”

Your body went limp. The last thing you saw before your eyes closed was Steve, a sinister grin on his face.

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

It smelled like your Nana’s place. Jasmine and rose. You inhaled deeply. There was something else too, something darker you couldn’t quite put your finger on. 

Blinking your eyes until you could focus, you examined your surroundings. The space was almost an exact replica of your bedroom. But whereas your apartment was modern and sleek this looked like it hadn’t been touched since it had been built in the 20’s. Floral wallpaper hung neatly from ceiling to floor. An oversized solid wood garderobe took up almost an entire wall. Gilded picture frames containing old photographs formed clusters on the bedside tables. If it wasn’t for the neon and noise floating in through the window you would’ve sworn you had gone back in time.

You tried rolling from your back to your side. That’s when you noticed the wide silver cuff encircling your wrist. There was a small chain attached to the cuff which in turn was fastened to the brass bed frame. You gave the chain a good yank but it didn’t budge.

“That’s not going to work sweetheart.”

You jumped at the sound of Steve’s voice. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” you rolled your eyes, “Are you fucking serious with this shit. If you wanted to fuck me all you had to do was ask Rogers.”

Steve strolled across the room. He stopped right in front of you, forcing you to look up.

“I intend to do a lot more than just fuck you.”

Before you could reply he had you in the air. Sitting down, he flipped you over his knees, ass up. In once swoop he tore your leggings off exposing your lower half. 

“What the fuck are you doing. Put me down you fucking piece of shit.”

You fought back, swinging wildly at his legs. With a sigh Steve grabbed your arms. He pulled them behind your back, wrapping the chain around your wrists until they were firmly bound. 

“Someone should’ve done this a long time ago. You need to be taught some manners.”

Steve’s last word was punctuated by his large hand smacking your left ass cheek. The sting was immediate. 

“I need you to count. One for every person you’ve fucked since I’ve moved in.”

“Are you fucking insane,” you screeched knowing full well that number was in the twenties. 

Steve tsked. He clapped his hand over your mouth, smothering the rest of your tirade. 

“You will watch your language around me from now on. It’s not ladylike.”

You bit down hard on his fingers, drawing blood. Steve drew his hand back, surveying the damage.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think you archaic fossil. Let me go.”

“You really shouldn't have done that darlin’.”

Steve’s hand descended again, hitting you hard enough that you almost fell forward.

“Count.”

SMACK

“Now.”

SMACK

“One,” you screamed, unable to take the pain any more.

SMACK

“Two.”

SMACK

“Three.”

SMACK

“Four.”

SMACK

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

You had just managed to choke out sixteen when Steve stopped. 

“See, that wasn’t so difficult was it.”

Nodding your head you were eternally indebted to whatever God ruled over unseen booty calls.

“I’ve learned my lesson Steve. I really have.”

You glanced back at him, eyes wide, an innocent smile on your lips.

“I promise I’ll behave from now on. Scout’s honor.”

SMACK

“What the fuck was that for.”

SMACK

“Little girls who lie get punished.”

SMACK

“You fucking piece of shit,” you thrashed your legs around, “Let me go.”

Unceremoniously he pushed you off his legs. You tried to crawl away but the chain kept you close. Steve stood, pushing his jeans past his hips. Digging his fingers into your scalp he brought you close. 

“Open your mouth.”

You clamped your lips shut, shaking your head.

“Of course. Now you decide to keep your mouth shut. That’s not gonna work.”

Steve reached down. Pinching your nose he waited patiently. Eventually you had to take a breath. He took full advantage, shoving his cock down your throat. You gagged when it hit the back of your throat. 

He jerked you head back, making eye contact. 

“If you bite me I’ll tie you down and let every man I can find run a train on you. Do you understand.”

Shock that Captain America knew what a train was delayed your acquiescence. Steve slapped you hard to get your attention.

“Do you understand.”

Unable to answer you furiously nodded your head up and down.

Without any further warning Steve shoved himself back into your mouth. The pace he set was brutal. It wasn’t a blowjob, he was literally fucking your face. Tears dropped from your eyes. They joined the saliva dripping from your lips, wetting the thin tank top. 

Steve’s hips snapped back and forth, never completely pulling out of your mouth. Your throat was raw. After what seemed like hours he stiffened. You tried to pull back in anticipation, however Steve had no intention of letting that happen. He forced his cock as far down as he could, holding your head still as ribbons of cum coated your throat. 

Releasing his hold, Steve stepped back. You fell forward, gagging and coughing.

“You’re finished Rogers,” you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, “You won’t be America’s hero much longer.”

Steve snatched you up by your arm and threw you on the bed. On your knees you tried to scoot away. He caught your ankle, yanking you under him. His fingers run up your leg, into your pussy. 

“Looks like you enjoy it rough. You’re soaked.”

“Fuck you,” you yelled.

“Oh no sweetheart, fuck you.”

Steve buried himself to the hilt in your tight sheath. A strangled  moan formed on your lips. He withdrew just to thrust back in. The stretch and burn was agony. It only served to get you wetter. Steve grasped your hip, holding you in place as he fucked into you mercilessly. His other hand found your clit, swiping at it with the pad of his thumb. You came again, the pain and pleasure a perfect mix.  Steve followed you, grunting through the spasms. He pulled out, his warm cum spilling onto your thighs. 

The smell of sex and heavy breathing filled the room. He rolled off of you, stood, adjusting his jeans. Glaring over your shoulder you watched him walking toward the door.

“Aren’t you forgetting something you fuck.”

Steve turned to face you.

“Oh we’re not finished. I’m just taking a little break. You should probably try to sleep if you can. I have a long list to get through.”

[queen-scribbles]

Had That Comin’

Oh, look, Trick and Trouble didn’t wanna be left out of the @shepherds-of-haven​ holiday contest fun. :D   

-----

Falling snow drifted to cover tree branches, various boulders, and the ground itself in a generous, muffling blanket. It was a picturesque scene, like something out of a portrait; quiet and beautiful, pristine white covering everything this far out from civilization.

And it went utterly unappreciated as Trick crouched behind one of the snow-capped boulders, ears pricked for the sound of footsteps and gaze scanning for movement as her hands rapidly formed functional if sloppy snowballs. There was the faint creak of snow being compressed under heavy boots, she caught the tail of a dark cloak and bright red scarf darting from tree cover to a boulder across the clearing, and she unleashed four of the freshly made snowballs toward the figure before ducking back behind her own cover.

Two of the snowballs spattered against the rock, but she heard Trouble’s laughing “Shit!” and smirked in satisfaction she’d gotten him at least once.

Trick peeked out to figure her next move, squinting at the boulder to work out where she’d need to go for a good angle--

--and jerked back with a yelp as an impressively large snowball whisked by her head, close enough it brushed the top of her hood before smacking against a tree behind her with a slushy ‘thud’. 

“Haelfire, Trouble, are you tryin’ to take my head off?!” she hollered, flicking residual snowflakes off her head.

“Why would I do that? Travelin’ alone’s boring as hael,” he yelled back, a grin in his voice.

Trick wrinkled her nose . A small clump of snow thawed and dripped down, grazing her cheek and making her flinch. Their current positions would just turn into a stalemate. That would make this boring.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, she encouraged herself, eyeing the distance between her and the massive fallen tree she was contemplating as cover. It was pretty far, relatively speaking, and she knew even with how fast she was Trouble would probably get her at least once. Bu it would make much better cover than her current spot. This boulder was barely bigger than her.

Trick huffed out a breath that briefly clouded the air before dissipating and lobbed two snowballs toward Trouble’s hiding place, just to keep him guessing. Then she tugged her scarf loose and used it as a sling to hold as many snowballs as possible, before sculpting a last rough one in each hand. (Those were more lumps than proper snowballs, but they would do the trick.)  She took a last deep breath and lunged into a sprint across the gap, praying her leg wouldn’t cramp like it sometimes did in this kind of weather.

It didn’t, even when she twisted to launch her barrage of snowballs in hopes of keeping Trouble behind cover while she moved. Despite her efforts, his first return shot caught her hood with the right angle and force to knock it back, and his second only missed because she ducked (and almost went face first into a snowdrift for her effort). Another laughing oath told her she’d landed a couple hits herself as she tossed the last snowball and skidded knees-first behind the tree trunk to start reloading.

Her panting breaths clouded the air in front of her, and Trick tried to slow them down even as adrenaline had her grinning. The cold stung her lungs, and they were loud enough in her ears to cover other sounds.

The sharp crack of a branch snapping forced her to look over the top of the tree, wisps of copper and white hair falling in her face as she did. She didn’t see anything.

Trick frowned, Subtlety and stealth had never been Trouble’s strengths Where’d you go? she wondered silently as she moved to the far end of the tree to peek from a different angle.

Nothing. No dark grey cloak, no red scarf, no tousled blond hair. 

Her frown deepened and she ignored every instinct screaming at her to hide as she stepped out from behind the tree, snowball in hand, to scrutinize the clearing.

She paid for her curiosity in short order, to the tune of a snowball--smaller than his others, but well-made--smacking her square in the face. 

It only stung a little, even heightened by the cold, but it caught her sufficiently off-guard to knock her on her ass. Trick laughed at her own hubris as she flung one arm up on the air. “Alright, alright, you win!”

Trouble emerged from behind a different boulder than where she’d last seen him, grinning with only a trace of smugness as he started her direction. “Had enough, huh?”

“Yeah.” She grinned up at him, brushing melted snow off her cheek and feeling a touch of smugness herself at the clumps of snow dotting his coat and cloak from her own good hits. “‘I had it comin’ for startin’ a snowball fight with someone  nicknamed Deadeye.”

Trouble laughed as he stopped next to her. “Good point.”

Trick rolled her eyes and soft-lobbed what was left of her snowball at his chest. It bounced off his heavy coat without sticking. Trouble grinned as he caught half of it and dumped it down the back of her collar.

Trick shrieked around a laugh--”Muti!”--and grabbed the back of his boot, yanking forward to land him on his ass next to her. 

“Okay, I had that comin’,” he laughed.

“Blazin’ straight you did,” Trick retorted with a grin.

Trouble’s laugh turned into a furrowed brow as he looked at her face. “Haelfire, did I getcha that bad?” He reached over to brush his thumb over her scarred cheek.

Twenty lyss says there’s a welt, Trick bet herself glibly as she shrugged off his chagrin. “Don’t worry ‘bout it; doesn’t even hurt.” She gestured at that entire side of her face with a wry smirk. “’Sides, I’ve done worse to myself.”

Trouble huffed a laugh and let his hand drop. “If you say so.”

“I say so.” She grinned and reassuringly punched his shoulder before flopping back in the snow. It was deep enough, and the right consistency, this should work...

“Whaddya doin’?”

“Snow angel,” Trick said, arms and legs already swishing through the snow. “I’m already wet, little more ain’t gonna hurt.”

Trouble chuckled, and after a beat, there was was a muffled whump as he joined her. 

They were close enough their hands brushed and they may have kicked each other’s  boots a couple times, but in a few moments’ time they were sitting up, faces pink from cold and snow clinging to their hair as they shared a grin.

“We better get movin’,” Trouble sighed, dusting the snow out of his hair as he pushed to his feet. “Blade’ll give us hell if he finds out why we’re late.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Trick said drolly as she accepted the hand he offered and he hauled her to her feet. She steadied herself with a hand against his chest while she caught her balance.

““Deal,” Trouble said with a laugh. They shook on it with matching grins, then pulled their hoods back up and resumed their original course toward Haven’s gates.

Leaving behind two snow angels, so close together it almost looked like they were holding hands as the snow slowly filled them in.

---

So yeah, these two are just the biggest, most oblivious, idiots to ever fall in love. :P And unlike Shepherd’s Honor, this one is far enough through the story there are Feelings, just neither of them has realized it yet and they make me want to scream. xD  

 (I do love that all my fic ideas for them so far have involved mental images like piggyback rides or snow angels, like they have FUN together. Just goofball best friends who somewhere along the line fell in love nbd)

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Happy Holidays, RotBTD Fandom!!!

Hello everyone! This is my Secret Santa gift for @siodymph’s RotBTD Gift Exchange!! Or a preview from it anyway--the full fic is actually much longer and is still a work in progress ^^; 

I got @disney0bsessoid5150! I admittedly stalked your page a bit and it seems like you ship Jackunzel and enjoy angst, so I was just like ohhhhhhh yes, I can work with that!!! Truthfully I used it as a bit of an excuse to finally start on an angsty Jackunzel fic I’ve wanted to write for a loooooong time now. I think it’s approaching like...4 years that I’ve had the concept now?? Anyways, I guess I’m finally getting around to it! And I owe ya one for giving me an excuse to finally get up off my butt and get started on it XD

So I came across and really fell in love with the idea of icicle!Jack a few years ago, where basically Jack gets covered in icicles after his power goes out-of-hand in some way and like...double-freeze him, or Pitch does some shenanigans to use the icicles to make the poor boy even MORE isolated. Largely inspired by NightmareHound’s comic strips about Icicle Jack on deviantart as well! And of course my Jackunzel Trash brain instantly was like “Angsty Jackunzel fic??? Angsty Jackunzel fic??? Do I smell ANGSTY JACKUNZEL FIC???” as soon as I saw Icicle!Jack, so here is said angsty Jackunzel fic. The full first chapter will be posted on my fanfiction.net account Infrared-Ultraviolet soon!

Now without further ado--please enjoy this preview from my new story, Melting Icicles!

(Preview starts under Keep Reading marker)

The winter seems to last an eternity.

February is beginning, and some of the ice is starting to melt. Jack Frost treks through the forest again, heading for the creek.

Spring isn’t coming anytime soon, not on the Nightmare King’s watch. And if this means Jack Frost has to refreeze the entire forest and dump another 2 feet of snow on it, so be it.

He’s getting awfully tired of doing Pitch’s bidding, and although he admits it to no one but himself, he feels he could use some sun after all these months of dark. But if he loses the Nightmare King, he knows he will be alone again.

Someone who fills his mind with vicious whispers is better than no one at all.

The ice across the top of the creek is cracked and splintered in places, revealing water starting to rush with spring fervor. Certainly well on its way to thawing completely, if the late winter sunshine keeps up.

He spots a plump female rabbit a little ways down the bank, ears twitching and nose to the ground. She sniffs cautiously around the dead reeds and gingerly puts a paw down on the ice, pressing down as if to test it.

Seemingly satisfied, she takes another step forward, hopping slightly with her back legs so that her front half is now entirely on the ice. Jack feels himself tense up.

She wants to cross, he realizes.

The rabbit takes a few more paces forward, tiny, furred nose twitching as she goes. She takes one more step, and there’s a small snap beneath her.

“No, no, go back!” Jack hisses, feeling anxiety creep up in him like a brewing blizzard. “It’s not safe to cross yet!”

Frustration prickles at him as he watches the rabbit, willing her to back up to the banks. Couldn’t she wait until after he re-iced the creek to try and get wherever she needed to go?

The rabbit skirts the small fissure and continues on her way, albeit more timidly. Another louder crack sounds and she freezes again, nose twitching furiously.

Jack creeps carefully along the treeline to get a better look at where she is. The ice is nearly as clear as a window, and he can see the waves of the chilled stream rushing by below it.

It may as well be paper-thin.

The rabbit takes another step forward, and a crack spreads out in front of her, splitting and bifurcating like the branches of an eerie tree. The crevices grow and grow, scattering off to the side and spreading into a wide semi-circle almost completely surrounding her.

The entire ice cover is about to cave in.

No! Jack lunges forward, jabbing his staff at the thawing stream and sending a fresh wave of ice surging down it. The rabbit’s head turns and her eyes widen at the fast-encroaching wisps of blue-white. She leaps backward, spooked.

In one slow, horrifying moment, the ice gives way beneath her, and she plunges into the stream. Jack can’t quite put his finger on why, but the image chills him to the very bone.

It’s almost as if there’s a haunting sense of…familiarity.

Snapping out of his shock, he jumps into action. He slams his staff down against the icy creek, and it shatters like glass, fragments of ice spilling into the rushing water below. Crouching down, he plunges his hand into the water and freezes it into a thick dam of ice.

The rabbit lets out a cry as she collides with it seconds later, the wind knocked out of her temporarily. Jack scoops her up and pulls her out of the water, starting to massage her soaked, cold fur.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs. “You’re safe now.”

He summons a burst of wind from his staff and lets it sweep across the rabbit, dragging the cold water away. The rabbit shudders as it passes, paws twitching uncomfortably.

“I know it’s cold,” he says meekly, an apology heavy in the words. “But you’re going to be alright. I promise you.”

“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,” he can almost hear the Boogeyman saying.

Well, you’re wrong. I’m going to keep this one.

He starts to run his hand back and forth through the rabbit’s fur, trying to generate some semblance of warmth. The creature trembles, letting out a low whimper.

The shivers start small, nothing more than tiny tremors. But with each stroke, they grow stronger and stronger, until the creature is shaking like an autumn leaf.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m trying.”

The rabbit jerks suddenly, starting to twitch and squirm toward the edge of his hands. He reaches out his thumbs to try and grab her, but she’s too quick. In one fluid movement, she twists out of his hands, toppling to the ground.

There’s a shock of red as she hits the ground, and Jack sees crimson lines rapidly beginning to form in her gray-brown coat. Places where his icicles grazed her in the fall, he realizes.

Not again…

“No, please…” His voice is shaking, becoming desperate. Frantic. “I want to help. Please let me help.”

He has to be able to do more than hurt. He has to.

Pitch has to be wrong about him.

The rabbit starts to drag herself away, leaving a trail of cherry-red in the snow. Tears brimming in his eyes, Jack reaches out and gently scoops her up again, careful not to touch the gashes.

Maybe I can at least wash them off before she goes…

The rabbit goes limp in his grip, seemingly with little fight left in her. For one horrifying moment, he wonders if she suffered the same fate as the squirrel, until he feels the shallow rise and fall of her breaths against his hands. His entire body slackens with relief.

“Allow me.”

An unfamiliar voice sounds behind him, and he turns.

The snow-melting girl from the clearing is looking right at him, long blonde hair streaming out behind her like a river of sunlight.

She can see me…

He expects her to shudder or wince at the sight of the coating of icicles, but she doesn’t even appear to give them a second glance. She steps forward, bare feet quickened with a sudden sense of urgency.

She kneels before him and sits on her knees, starting to wrap the ends of her long hair around his hands and the shivering rabbit in tight ropes. He doesn’t resist, too surprised to protest. He feels the rabbit finally relax against him, something about the touch of the girl’s hair seeming to finally calm the animal down.

Then the girl begins to sing.

A golden-orange glow glides down her hair, brighter than the purest amber. When it reaches his hands, a sudden warmth surges through him. A warmth unlike anything he’s ever known.

He leans into it, feeling like he’s stepping into the sunlight for the very first time.

“Flower gleam and glow Let your powers shine Make the clock reverse Bring back what once was mine

Heal what has been hurt Change the fates’ design Save what has been lost Bring back what once was mine What once was mine” 

Her words are haunting, making him feel an emotion he finds he doesn’t quite have a name for.

The glow fades as the girl finishes, and she delicately pulls her hair away. The rabbit perks up, long ears sticking high in the air and nose wriggling curiously. The cuts on her side have completely vanished, any trace of red seeming to have been carried away with the winter breeze.

She hops out of Jack’s hands and bounds cheerfully away, eyes bright and eager again. In moments, the icy stream, the cold winter spirit hands, and the sharp icicles appear to have been completely forgotten.

“You…saved her.” He looks up at the girl in wonder. “From…from me.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “No, we saved her. I saw what you did with the ice dam. She would have drowned if not for you.”

“Only because I spooked her and made her fall in in the first place,” he mutters.

“Because you were trying to make the ice thicker so she could cross,” the girl says gently. “You were only trying to help.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, and look how well that went.”

Her smile widens, and Jack could swear he picks up just the slightest hint of a smirk in it. “She’s alive, isn’t she? I’d call that a net success.”

“Only thanks to you,” he mumbles.

He looks over her, and he finds his curiosity gets the better of him. She may be strange, but he can’t help but be intrigued. “Who are you, anyways?”

Her face falls suddenly, pink-purple dress seeming to sag like wilting flowers. “You mean you don’t know?”

He gazes at her, puzzled. “Should I?”

She stops and thinks on this for several moments before finally shaking her head. “No…no, I guess you wouldn’t.”

“How can you see me?”

She looks taken aback for a period before smiling sadly. For just a moment, she looks like she might be on the verge of tears.

She appears contemplative, like she’s choosing her words carefully. Finally she says, with the air of holding quite a bit back, “I’m a spirit too.”

“A spirit? A…Guardian?” He suddenly backs away, growing wary of her.

My replacement…

“Well, no…not exactly.” She looks away, frowning. “I help them sometimes, when they need it. But I’m not…one of them. I’m Rapunzel,” she adds, looking back at him and smiling warmly.

“Jack Frost,” he mumbles, not sure how to response to this entire situation. Never, not once in his 300 years of existence, has someone just…come up and cordially introduced themselves to him.

It’s amusing, really. Something that must seem so mundane to all the people he sees walking about the streets of the towns and cities he wanders through seems completely alien to him.

“I know. I’ve been watching you.”

He gives her a strange look, and she slaps her hand over her mouth, eyes widening.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…! That must sound so creepy! I wasn’t—gosh, I didn’t mean to be following you around! I’m so sorry!”

She buries her face in her hands, as if slowly realizing the size of the hole she’s dug herself into.

Jack can’t help but chuckle at the utter unexpectedness of the entire scenario. “I don’t think it’s creepy. Just…strange. I mean, why would you want to trail me?”

She peeks at him from between her fingers, expression shy. “I see those frost patterns you leave on the trees. They’re beautiful. I…did accidentally melt a few, though.”

She looks away again, embarrassed. He remembers her hand recoiling after touching his frost the other day, her gasp of horror. He thought she’d been appalled by the freezing cold…but perhaps she had only been dismayed she had started to melt it.

The thought that someone appreciated his work was more comforting than she knew.

He looks over her and something suddenly clicks in his mind—the ice-melting hands and feet, the flower-colored dress, the life-giving healing hair, the light green eyes. “You’re a spring spirit,” he realizes.

She smiles at him, shrugging. “I am, but…I think all of the seasons are beautiful. I love yours, too. I came out a bit earlier than I was supposed to so I could have a look at everything you’ve done. It’s gorgeous.”

If Jack Frost still had color in his skin, he’s sure he’d be blushing. How embarrassing.

He tries his best to deflect the compliment, smirking at her instead. “Oh, what gave away that I was a winter spirit?”

She smirks right back at him. “Oh, nothing, really. Just a shot in the dark.”

It’s a moment before it dawns on him that she hasn’t started to retreat after she finished her healing. She hasn’t apprehensively scooted away from the protruding ice spines, hasn’t eyed him with the same careful fear as someone creeping past a chained beast that could rip free at any time and lunge. If anything, she’s made herself more comfortable next to him—hugging her knees to her chest, resting her chin on her hands and regarding him thoughtfully.

She’s just naïve, he thinks bitterly. She’ll find out soon enough that all I can do is hurt people. She can’t fight my nature any more than I can.

Nonetheless, the girl seems kind, if lacking somewhat in worldly wisdom. He hates the thought of anything bad happening to her.

“I’m surprised you let yourself get so close,” he says, the implied warning clear in his voice. “You know…considering all this.”

He gestures at his torso, sweeping a hand in front of his lower chest to show off an especially honed row of icicles. Rapunzel seems unfazed.

“I’m not worried,” she says nonchalantly. “I think I can manage to not get close enough to jab myself.”

“But what if I got closer to you?” he retorts. “What if I attacked you? You know, getting cut with these, it wouldn’t be…” He trails off, unsure what he’s trying to say. “Just…you shouldn’t trust so easily, Rapunzel. I could hurt you.”

She shrugs, looking almost annoyingly unperturbed. Smiling, she holds up a lock of blonde hair.

“I have this, remember? I think I can handle myself fine. Besides…” Her eyes soften. “You don’t seem like the type who wants to hurt people. You just seem…lonely. And sad.”

He bristles suddenly, alarmed. This girl he barely knows, who he met mere minutes ago…how had she pegged him so entirely?

“How can you know that?” he asks, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

She smiles again, and this time, there’s something bittersweet about it. “Well…if you wanted to hurt people, you wouldn’t try and make the winter beautiful just because you can. You’d make it angry, destructive. But you wouldn’t find ways to make it into art.”

He sighs, looking away. “Those gashes on the rabbit…you know those were because of me, right? I…I didn’t mean to hurt her, but stuff like that just…happens, if you’re around me. When I try to help.”

“But you were trying to help,” she says, without missing a beat. “And that’s what matters to me.”

“So stupid,” Pitch whispers in his mind. “So tragically, trustingly stupid. People who try to see the good in monsters are only going to get devoured in the end. When she succumbs to some tragic demise, there will be nothing to blame but her own bleeding-hearted naivety.”

She makes no move to distance herself from him. No move to flee from the obvious danger. If anything…he swears he can see her inching closer.

He looks back at her, eyes growing as cold as the ice he trails throughout the forest.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says harshly. “It’s not safe around me. You want to end up like…”

Like the squirrel?

He stops short, finding himself reluctant to spill the details of the incident…no matter how relevant.

Perhaps, he finds himself thinking, she doesn’t need to know. Not yet.

Idiot. Of course she needs to know. How else will she see what abominations you’re capable of?

“…marred like that rabbit?” he says instead.

Of course you pick the story with the happy ending. Of course you pick the comparison that could persuade her to stay. What on earth makes you think she’d want to, anyhow?

“I’ll take my chances,” she says softly.

Jack hates himself for the unadulterated exhilaration that courses through him.

What the hell is wrong with you?! You shouldn’t want her to stay! She’ll get impaled in the end somehow, and it’ll be all your fault…

“You look like you need a friend, Jack Frost,” she adds, eyeing him sympathetically. “No one deserves to be alone.”

He thinks of a man cloaked in black, and he looks away guiltily.

“I do have a friend,” he argues. “And he says…he says no one else would want to be my friend. He hasn’t been proven wrong yet.”

She scowls deeply—an expression that looks almost amusingly out-of-place on such an innocent, serene face, he thinks.

“That doesn’t sound like a very good friend, if he tells you things like that,” she retorts.

He shrugs, trying his best to look indifferent. “It’s all I know. It’s better than being alone.”

“Well, then maybe it’s time for you to know something better.” She brightens up again, the frown flitting away as quickly as it had come. “You think you could use another friend?”

She gazes expectantly at him with those big green eyes of hers, and he feels a prick of annoyance at how convincing she’s being. It’s an offer that’s hard to refuse, he has to admit.

In a heartbeat, the Nightmare King is back, whispering doubts into his mind. Telling him it’ll only end in disappointment and abandonment and being alone once again.

For once, Jack ignores it.

“It’s at your own risk,” he says simply.

“I can live with that.” Rapunzel shrugs. “Will I see you again?”

His lips, long-since blue and frosted over, form the tiniest hint of a smile. “I think you will.”