#she's always been on the front lines of major battles HERSELF

[skaald-of-the-hearth-fires]

First of all YES!! There was SO much urgency. They couldn't wait. Trahearne waited as long as he possibly could for Commander to finish up the egg business before going.

Camp Resolve had been attacked just before this and barely survived, and only did because the Commander was there to throw up a signal flare for help. Nobody else was able to reach it. The Pact and Trahearne and Destiny's Edge was almost finished off BEFORE THE PACT FLEET EVEN LAUNCHED.

Trahearne with his knowledge explained how all dragons have an expansion period: Zhaitan claimed Orr and caused the Great Tsunami, Kralkatorrik created the Dragonbrand, Jormag caused the Dragonstorm and sent the norn south, Primordus took the Depths and sent the asura and skritt to the surface.

Trahearne was desperately trying to take down Mordremoth BEFORE it hit that phase (which happens right after waking up), because it was so close to structured society like asura, humans, etc. in Central Tyria that such a thing would be DEVASTATING.

And we DIDN'T move before that phase - the vines WERE in Ascalon already. Fort Salma was destroyed by vines (killing many, Belinda among others). Fort Concordia in TIMBERLINE FALLS was destroyed (not as thoroughly; fewer people died; but Mordremoth's reach was HUGE). Trahearne was envisioning everything from the Tarnished Coast to the Shiverpeaks being fully and thoroughly covered in the Maguuma Jungle within WEEKS, and every day he waited more people dying, more vines popping up, more corruption advancing. He'd seen Orr. He'd seen the Brand. He knew what devastation awaited.

He was unwise to wait as long as he did for the Commander.

Their flaw wasn't in that they were too hasty. The flaw was that we didn't have the TIME to do anything else. We didn't have the time to get the knowledge that would have helped. It was a lose-lose situation. We just didn't have the knowledge, the tools, or the time to prepare anything decent. There was no way we could have taken on Mordremoth successfully. We had nothing and had no way of getting anything.

Its a miracle that even fragments of the Pact survived. It's a miracle that we actually beat the dragon. As awful as it is to say, what happened - Trahearne's sacrifice and all - was the best thing that could have happened to Tyria, and the odds of it were so shockingly slim that Mordremoth's confidence in our failure wasn't just normal villain arrogance. We literally had maybe 0.1 chance of actually defeating Mordremoth before it took over the rest of Tyria.

And we STILL have no idea how we'd defeat it otherwise without hooking someone (who was strong enough to resist) up to Mordremoth so we could fight its mind and killing them after.

The only thing that would've saved us is if we'd stopped Scarlet before she managed to wake Mordy up - and THEN been able to recognize what she'd been trying to do and taking steps to prepare before Mordremoth woke up on its own.

The other dragons had already had their explosive expansion phase, and yeah it'd devastated norn and asura especially, but at least they'd had somewhere to go. This would have made US - every single playable race - the refugees to Elona, instead of the other way around a year or two later. The other dragons, moreover, could WAIT bc they were moving much more slowly at that point and weren't so close to threatening everything.

Rewatching the end of LS2 and the teaser trailer for HoT and man... I gotta say one thing I really like about Trahearne's writing is how he handled the attack on Mordremoth.

Fighting Zhaitan had us carefully build an alliance of different forces, devise a strategy, take our time and be prepared... but Mordremoth made it personal for the sylvari. Did that make him nervous and that's why he decided to rush an entire fleet into unknown territority without even the glimpse of a plan? Almorra (rightfully) points it out in a later release, Trahearne fucked up big time sending everyone (and ultimately himself) to their death.

And I love that narrative. I love this wise, grounded (though occasionally dorky) figure we've had at our side just making that one fatal mistake out of urgency. (& fear?)

And who knows, ultimately we did come out victorious against the elder dragon, so maybe that was the only right decision after all.

[the-eeveekins]

I love G-Witch's ending. While I do wish the journey had been longer, that we had gotten more time with the characters and the world, I would not change that destination. I still want it to end with Suletta saving her family at Quiet Zero.

"It's too happy, no one died!" I actually love this! Gundam has 45 years of bittersweet and occasionally downer endings. We can have one ending that is almost unambiguously a happy one. People always talk about finding non-violent solutions, about solving problems peacefully. And in a Gundam first, Suletta does that. She solves a violent situation with non-violence, and just this once, everybody lived!

"That was accomplished with bullshit space magic though!" Look, setting aside the fact that Bullshit Space Magic has been a part of Gundam since the original (and is often MORE bullshit in UC), this show is called The Witch From Mercury. If there was any Gundam series where Bullshit Space Magic saving the day and solving the problem is thematically appropriate and should not be an issue, it's this one.

"The bad guys lived and escaped jail!" I'm fine with this, especially since every good character survived too. And it's not like they didn't suffer any consequences. Miorine dissvolved the Benerit Group. Their empire is gone, along with their wealth and power. They may be free (for now), but they're definitely miserable. With Shaddiq's help, Miorine exposed the SAL's crimes, and considering the precarious position they were in previously, it's likely there was a major shake-up. The power structures in space were completely shaken up and changed, and much of it's power was transferred to Earth.

"What about Shaddiq?" Look, I definitely understand the contextual issues with Shaddiq being the only martyr. But in the show itself, Shaddiq accomplished his goals. He got to see the Benerit Group dissolved and their assets placed in the hands of Earthian companies, all without further violence. He secured the freedom of the women working for them, and importantly, they all now work for Miorine in her efforts to improve Earth and make reparations for Spacians. And as a last gift and blessing to Miorine and her new family, he took the fall for Quiet Zero while he was at it. Shaddiq may be imprisoned unlike the former BG members, but unlike them, he is a happy and satisfied man.

It's rare for the main characters in Gundam to enact massive, systemic change for the better, especially permanently. Amuro, Kamille and Judau did not change the world in any significant fashion. Their world was still mired in conflict after their reapective conflicts, to the point that Amuro dies in a later conflict and Judau gets so sick of things not changing for the better that he abandons Earth and later the solar system. Yet there is a lot of criticism that Suletta & Miorine didn’t solve all of Ad Stella's problems, that they did their part and peaced out. But their part was destroying the immediate threat of Gundams and Quiet Zero, they dismantled the Benerit Group power structure and put it in the hands of Earth and they exposed the SAL. They made huge changes to the world and they didn't stop. Miorine is still using her company to make amends for the BG's crimes and improve the lives of Earthians. Suletta has built a school on Mercury and is now building one on Earth. Even if they're not going to be fighting on the front lines, they're still fighting to make their world a better place.

That's not to say the ending is perfect. I don't think Nika should have spent 3 years in jail because of a guilty conscience and because Martin is a snitch. I don't think you should ruin the thematics of Suletta facing down and battling Quiet Zero by herself, but the part of me who loves to see giant robots fight wishes there could have been a way to involve the Demi-Barding, Pharact and Schwarzette in more action during the end. If not at QZ, then earlier in the series.

I personally believe a lot of the criticism of the ending boils down to preference, and people not preferring how G-Witch chose to end things, rather than those things being objectively bad. I think a lot of fans struggle to accept that G-Witch was trying to do something smaller, something different, and they still can't let go of wanting it to be something it never tried to be. Did it do what it wanted to do perfectly? Definitely not. It forgot what it was at points in S2 and I'd argue it actually cooked too good with it's background details, making people want more of something it never set out to do. But ultimately it was never trying to be a 50 episode war epic focused on the wider world. It was about these two girls and their families.

Suletta & Miorine's scene together in the wheat field on Earth is perhaps one of my favorite scenes in anime. Maybe in any media. I wouldn't trade that moment for anything short of their actual wedding.

[rafemotherfuckingcameron]

Request: Rafe and Y/n protecting each other at a party. Maybe a fight scene if possible? :) Thx

You Defended Me, I’ll Protect You

Word Count: 3.7k

Pairing(s): Rafe x reader, JJ x reader, Sarah x reader

Warnings: Fight Scene (Violence), Drug Use, Mention of detox, Drinking, Major Protective!Rafe, 

Summary: After Rafe's battle against drug addiction, Y/n and Rafe attend a party at Top's. However, the party takes a turn for the worse when JJ’s involved.

A year had passed since Rafe took the courageous step to break free from the clutches of drugs. The journey was far from easy; he grappled with withdrawal episodes, committed to attending AA meetings 2-3 times a week. Yet, with each passing day, the grip of addiction loosened.

Y/n stood by him at every turn, offering unwavering support. As the months rolled on, Rafe found strength in the routine of recovery. Y/n, acknowledging the significance of this milestone, suggested a celebration at Topper's party. The occasion would not only mark the passage of time but also serve as a testament to Rafe's resilience and the unwavering support that had carried him through.

Getting ready at Rafe's house was always a mix of excitement and anticipation. Y/n, dressed in a chic black top, denim shorts, and strappy heels, was in the bathroom putting on the finishing touches when Rafe casually strolled in without a shirt.

He approached her, gently placing his hands on her hips and stealing a moment with a sweet kiss on her temple. "You look beautiful," he murmured before diving back into his closet in search of a shirt.

Fully dressed and ready, they made their way down the stairs, hand in hand, and stepped out into the cool evening. Rafe, opened the truck door for Y/n, then hurried around to his side. As they hit the road, the hum of the engine and a subtle playlist provided the soundtrack to their journey.

This particular evening held a special significance – it was the first party they were attending since Rafe's detox. Nervous energy lingered, especially for Y/n. Past parties had been ruined by altercations stemming from Rafe's struggle with drugs. This time she was a little more hopeful that they could have a fun night.

As the party venue loomed in the distance, she found herself grappling with a mix of excitement and a lingering caution. Maybe, just to be sure, she thought, it was time to have a heart-to-heart with Rafe before stepping into the party.

"How do you feel about the party?" she asked, idly toying with the ends of her sleeves. "I feel good; I'm just happy to be spending the whole night with you," he replied, placing a reassuring hand on her thigh. "I need you to do something for me, though," she continued, looking earnestly in his direction. "Anything," he promptly responded. 

"I need you to avoid getting into any fights tonight... people might say things, but I need you to disengage from it." As she awaited his response, she intertwined her fingers with his.

"Okay, I will really try for you and for myself," he assured, sealing the commitment with a tender kiss on the back of her hand.

Entering the party, Pogues were seated outside, indulging in lines of coke and smoking weed. Among them was Sarah, Rafe's sister, who observed as they ascended the stairs to the front door.

"Look who it is, the Kook King without his head in the powder," JJ, one of the Pogues, remarked to Rafe. Despite the taunt, Rafe simply squeezed Y/n's hand and continued walking past them.

"What's wrong, Rafe? Has your whore got your tongue or something?" JJ jeered, hurling an empty cup at Rafe's back. Y/n guided him to the kitchen, aiming to get a drink and distance themselves from the Pogues.

"I'm really proud of what you just did," she expressed, pulling him in for a kiss. "I know, I just hate it when they call you those horrible names," he responded, enveloping her in his arms.

"I know you do, but just block them out," she advised, gently unwinding herself from him and grabbing two beers from the fridge. "Now, let's dance," she suggested, taking his free hand and leading him onto the dance floor.

The infectious beat guided their every step, creating a rhythm that seemed to synchronise with the pulsating energy of the music. As Y/n and Rafe swayed in perfect harmony, the surrounding world dissolved, leaving only the electric aura of the moment.

Y/n's arms found a comfortable perch around Rafe's neck, and their bodies moved as if choreographed, seamlessly merging into one another. The alcohol's effects were beginning to make themselves known, evident in Y/n's increasingly flirtatious movements. Rafe, acutely aware of the subtle shifts, found himself adjusting his pants more than once.

Leaning in close to his ear, Y/n whispered-shouted, "I'll be back, bathroom break." Rafe nodded in acknowledgment, his attention briefly diverted to her beer. "Do you want me to hold your drink?" he asked.

"Nah it's empty. I'll grab another one when I come back. Do you want another?" she inquired. Rafe smiled, appreciating the offer. "Yes, thanks baby," he replied, watching her navigate through the pulsating crowd as the music continued to envelop them in its vibrant embrace.

Navigating through the dense crowd, she finally reached the bathroom, only to find herself in a line of ten people. Frustration set in as the minutes passed, and the line showed no signs of getting shorter. In her wait, she caught sight of Sarah in the kitchen, locked in a passionate kiss with her boyfriend, a sight that made her stomach turn.

Just as she turned away, attempting to shake off the unsettling feeling, JJ and Pope approached her.

"Look who it is, Rafe's girl all alone. Has he ditched you for his coke already?" JJ sneered, blowing smoke directly into her face. Annoyed, she looked at them, her patience wearing thin.

"What is wrong with both of you? Just mind your own business and get lost," she retorted, turning her back on the unwelcome duo.

Her arm was abruptly tugged backward, twisting her body back towards them. "You know, I don't think Rafe has been taking care of you properly. Maybe you should let us take you home. Wouldn't want your trashy boyfriend hurting you when his head’s full of coke," he remarked, forcibly pulling her away from the bathroom.

"I don't need your judgment or your so-called concern. I'll decide who I trust, and it's certainly not some disrespectful pogue who doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up," she retorted, forcefully shoving him off and determinedly walking into the kitchen.

"Hey, Y/n, do you want me to make you a drink?" Sarah's voice called out as she prepared her own drink. "Uh, sure," Y/n replied, making her way to stand beside Sarah. She observed as Sarah skilfully combined orange juice and grenadine syrup in a cup from the cupboard, adding two shots of vodka.

"Here you go, Vodka Sunrise, my personal favourite," Sarah grinned, handing over the concoction. "Thanks, Sarah. I'm just going to the bathroom first; can you watch my drink, please?" Y/n requested. "Yeah, sure," Sarah agreed.

Heading to the bathroom, Y/n was relieved to find only one girl in line. 

Upon returning to the kitchen, she encountered Sarah passionately kissing her boyfriend. Politely moving in front of them, Y/n retrieved her drink and headed to get another beer for Rafe. "Thanks, Sare!" she shouted back at Sarah over the lively music.

Looking around for Rafe, she took a few sips of her drink, relishing the sweet taste of syrup lingering on her tongue. Pushing through the crowds, she accidentally bumped into a group of girls. "Sorry," she mumbled, continuing her search for her boyfriend.

Once outside, she realised she had finished her drink, clinging onto the empty glass as she continued her quest to find Rafe. However, her vision started to blur, and she stumbled around, feeling her stomach knotting up.

Nausea washed over her, intensifying with each step. Her legs began to feel heavy, and the overwhelming need to sit down grew stronger. The effects of the night were taking their toll, and she knew she needed a moment to gather herself.

Y/n made her way around the back of the house, seeking a quiet space with a lounge. As she settled onto the lounge, her glass and beer slipped from her fingers shattering beneath her. Rolling onto her left side in an attempt to find relief, she realised it was no use. Feeling increasingly unwell, she retrieved her phone to text Rafe:

Y/N: Wehre era yuo 

She sent the message, hoping he would receive it. Lying back on the lounge, she stared at the ceiling, beads of sweat trickling down her face. About five minutes later, her phone lit up with Rafe's response:

Rafe: Sorry baby, was just helping top move his bike, I’m outside near the pool.

Slowly reopening her eyes, she picked up her phone and held it up to her face. Despite the haze, she couldn't make out the whole text, only that he was near the pool. Lifting herself up from the lounge, she placed her head in her hands, grappling with the effects she was having.

Attempting to stand, she grabbed her phone and clung to the railing, slowly making her way toward the pool. Though it was only about 200 meters away, it felt like it took 30 minutes to stumble that far. Pushing past the intoxicated teens, she finally spotted Rafe sitting by the pool with Topper and Kelce.

Beads of sweat streamed down her face, giving the impression that she had just submerged her head underwater. Wiping the back of her hand across her face, she stumbled into JJ.

He looked at her with a smirk, observing as she hastily retreated toward her boyfriend. Slowly approaching the boys, she felt a sudden wave of fatigue, causing her eyes to start slowly blinking.

"Y/n, where have you been?" Topper shouted, abruptly bringing Y/n out of her thoughts. She attempted to respond, but nothing came out. Rafe approached her, wrapping his arm around her waist. "Where's my beer?" he asked, looking down at her.

His eyes widened as he took in the state she was in. "Hey, what's wrong? Are you okay?" he asked with concern, lifting her chin to meet his gaze.

"Don't feel good," she managed to say, falling into his side and grabbing his shirt for support. He carried her back over to Top and Kelce, placing her on the lounge next to him. Struggling to sit up straight, she lay on her left side, never letting go of Rafe's hand.

"Baby, can you tell me what doesn't feel good?" Rafe asked, lightly rubbing her back. "Every-thing," she responded, her body starting to shake uncontrollably, causing growing concern.

Topper crouched in front of her, noticing her bloodshot eyes. He felt her pulse and recognised how clammy her skin had become.

"Rafe," Topper whispered, signalling him to stand up. "I think she might have taken something. Her eyes are bloodshot, her pulse is racing, not to mention the shaking and fatigue," he said quietly, not wanting her to hear.

"Remember the first time I did coke?" Topper asked, jogging Rafe's memory about the symptoms he had experienced.

"FUCK!!"

Rafe sat beside her, gently pulling her back up to face him. "Baby?" he questioned, trying to get her attention. "Mmhmm," she mumbled. "What did you take?" he asked, cupping her face between his hands.

"I didn't take anything," she whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. She placed her left arm around his neck, letting her head fall onto his chest. His arms enveloped her small figure, placing her legs over his.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I'm going to take care of you," he reassured her, rocking her slowly. "Take some deep breaths for me, yeah," he instructed. "Deep breath, hold for 1... 2... 3, and out. Good. Another three for me," he said, breathing along with her.

Her breathing started to slow down, enough for Rafe to ask, "Can you tell me what happened after you left for the bathroom?" he inquired, looking into her eyes.

Nodding her head in response to his question, she slowly recounted the events she could remember.

"I left you to go to the bathroom; there was a long line, and then JJ and Pope came over to me, just talking shit about you. But don't worry, I gave it back to them," she chuckled a little at that before feeling her chest tighten again. She jolted at the pain, and Rafe could see it written all over her face.

"Hey, I've got you, okay," he calmly said, reassuring her. "What happened after you talked to them?" he inquired, his eyes filled with concern.

"I walked into the kitchen and talked to Sarah for a bit. She was making cocktails and made one for me - a vodka sunrise," she smirked, aware that it was one of Rafe's favourite cocktails, though he wouldn't admit it to anyone other than his girl.

"I asked her to watch my drink while I went to the bathroom. When I came back, she was making out with John B, so I just walked past them, grabbed our drinks, and left to come find you. That's when I started to feel like shit."

Taking in the information she gave him, Rafe tried to wrap his head around what could have happened in that time. Unbeknownst to him, Topper had figured out a potential scenario and was about to pull Rafe aside.

However, Y/n quickly sat up and announced, "I think I'm going to throw up." She attempted to stand but failed, prompting Rafe to help her inside and away from prying eyes. He opened the bathroom door, kicked it shut, and gently placed her on the floor.

Y/n always hated throwing up—the fear of not being able to breathe for those few seconds, the uneasy feeling before it finally comes out, just sitting in your stomach until it's time.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for her body to purge. She had her head in the toilet, holding onto the sides, while Rafe tied her hair into a messy bun.

He sat behind her, rubbing soothing circles into her back with his palm. She threw up about five times before she sat back, resting her head on his shoulder.

"How do you feel?" Rafe asked, still worried because he didn't know what was wrong. "Hot and tired," she responded, closing her eyes. "I know you're tired, but I need you to stay awake until we know what's wrong," he explained, placing her against the wall and retrieving a washcloth from the drawer.

"Hey, Rafe, I need to talk to you now," Topper said from the other side of the door. Rafe opened the door but stayed in sight of Y/n, waiting for Topper to start talking.

"Look, I think I know what's wrong with her," Topper said, watching Rafe's eyebrow raise in question. "With all the symptoms she's had, I think she might have been drugged. She did say she left her drink by itself." Rafe looked back at his girlfriend, resting against the wall, looking half-dead, her face covered in sweat.

He leaned down to feel her temperature and wiped away the sweat with the cold, wet washcloth. "Top, go find Sarah. I need to talk to her," he ordered. Top left the bathroom in search of Sarah.

Rafe lifted Y/n up and off the ground, pulling her into his side. They walked out of the room and sat on the lounge, and that's when he saw Top and Sarah approaching.

"Hey, Rafe, Top said you wanted to talk about someth- ohhh, is she okay?" Sarah said as she ran towards Y/n. "What happened after Y/n went to the bathroom?" Rafe questioned, still holding onto her.

"Nothing, she asked me to watch her drink," Sarah explained, looking at her brother in the eyes. "Did you take your eyes off it at any point?" he asked, and that made her break contact with him.

"Only like 10 seconds, Rafe. Why are you asking me this?" she said, getting defensive. "Because, Sarah, while you were doing whatever it was that you were doing, someone spiked Y/n's drink," he said, getting frustrated.

"OMG, what!" Sarah yelled, startling Y/n and leaving her confused. Rafe pulled her closer to him just as a familiar voice entered the conversation. "Someone's not looking too hot!" JJ joked, coming in closer to see.

Rafe turned around, staring daggers at him. "Fuck off, JJ!" he shouted, turning his back to him, his focus solely on taking care of Y/n.

"How does it feel to be on the other side, Rafe?" JJ questioned, slightly laughing as Rafe turned around. "What are you talking about?" Rafe answered.

"Instead of being the coked-out one, you're the caretaker. I just reversed the roles," he said, pointing to Y/n. "Although it looks like she's allergic to it. Whoops." JJ laughed out loud.

Rafe's expression grew darker. He erupted at JJ, launching himself forward with a powerful roundhouse strike from his right arm. JJ countered by swinging his fist, but none of the blows connected as Rafe crashed his elbow into JJ's side, causing him to spin under his arm.

Topper intervened, preventing Pope from joining the fray. A random girl shouted, "Fight!" and a crowd rushed back inside to witness the altercation. 

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, witnessing Rafe and JJ in the midst of their scuffle. She attempted to yell, but suddenly started convulsing. Reacting swiftly, Sarah turned Y/n onto her side, doing her best to keep her in place. "Rafe!" she yelled, desperately grabbing his attention.

"Y/n!" he shouted back, assuring her that he was on his way. Suddenly, JJ's fist crashed into Rafe's ear, causing him to stagger back. JJ followed up with a colossal right to Rafe's jaw, and he took a step back to assess the damage he had inflicted.

No damage.

JJ had struck him four times, yet it seemed as if he hadn't landed a blow at all. The two elbows had been forceful impacts, and the two punches were as powerful as anything JJ had ever thrown in his life.

Blood stained Rafe's upper lip from the second elbow, but aside from that, there was no visible harm. In theory, he should have been unconscious or in a coma.

Normally, JJ hadn't needed to hit a guy more than four times for that kind of effect. However, Rafe displayed no signs of pain.

Rafe lunged at JJ once more, his fist colliding with JJ's nose, breaking it and sending him falling to the ground. Rafe rushed back to Y/n, holding her down as she continued to shake uncontrollably.

"Should we call an ambulance?" Sarah asked, looking at her brother.

"No, they will call the cops and ask questions. We don't need that," he replied, addressing her inquiry.

Y/n's body began to calm, and she regained consciousness. "Rafe, can we go home now?" she asked, attempting to get up. He nodded, picking her up in a bridal style and carrying her out of the house.

Sarah opened his truck door and he placed her inside, putting her seatbelt on and closing the door gently. Rafe quickly circled the truck, hopping into the driver's seat, his focus on getting Y/n home and away from the chaotic scene.

As Rafe started the engine, Y/n leaned against him, her head resting on his shoulder. Sarah climbed into the back seat, making sure Y/n was comfortable. The night had taken an unexpected turn, and the drive home was filled with a tense silence.

Rafe's grip on the steering wheel tightened, his mind racing with concern for Y/n and frustration over the events that had unfolded.

Upon reaching home, Rafe gently laid Y/n down on the bed, making sure she was comfortable. Sarah, always ready to lend a helping hand, followed them into the room. Rafe appreciated the support, especially in moments like these.

As Rafe assisted Y/n in changing into more comfortable clothes, Sarah retrieved the Epipen from the bathroom. 

She handed it to Rafe, a reminder of a past incident. "Rafe, I got this from the bathroom. This is the one that you used the first time, remember?" she said, concern evident in her eyes.

Rafe nodded, his expression serious. "Yeah, I remember. Thanks, Sarah," he acknowledged, taking the Epipen from her. It served as a tangible symbol of preparedness, a tool to ensure Y/n's safety in case of another allergic reaction.

They work together, reinforcing their commitment to keeping Y/n protected and cared for.

Sarah lingered for a moment, expressing her worry and promising to check on them in the morning.

The room was dimly lit as Rafe laid beside Y/n, his hand gently caressing hers. "You okay?" he asked, concern etched on his face. She nodded weakly, a faint smile forming.

Throughout the night, Rafe remained vigilant, watching over Y/n as she slept. The moonlight cast a soft glow on their peaceful but dimly lit room. As the hours passed, Y/n's breathing steadied, and the tension from the earlier events slowly dissipated.

——

In the morning, sunlight gently streamed through the curtains, waking them both. Y/n stirred, her eyes meeting Rafe's, who had been awake for ages. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his concern still evident. She offered a reassuring smile, appreciating his protective presence.

"Hey Rafe, remember what we talked about in the car, about you not getting into any fights? I'm glad you didn't listen to me," she remarked with a mix of sincerity and humour. She couldn't help but appreciate the protective instincts that led Rafe to intervene during the chaotic situation.

Rafe offered a small, wry smile, acknowledging the irony of the moment. "Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do," he replied, glancing back at Y/n, who was resting her head on his chest.

The events of the night had indeed shifted priorities, emphasising the importance of standing up for those they cared about, even if it meant punches were thrown.

As the day unfolded, Rafe and Y/n navigated the aftermath of the previous night together. They discussed the incident, deciding on the best course of action to ensure her health. Rafe's determination to shield Y/n from harm only strengthened, fostering a deeper connection between them, their bond resilient in the face of adversity.

Rafe's commitment to Y/n's well-being became a cornerstone of their relationship, emphasising trust, understanding, and the shared strength to overcome challenges.

🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼🤮💗🤒🌿🍹👊🏼

Absolutely loved writing this one, thank you so much for the request. Requests are always open, hit me up. I also love feedback about my posts, let me know what you think.

@anonymouscameron

@ilovethekookprince

[lawqual1ty]

Deaths Favor (Law x Fem! Reader)

Hey! This is my first time posting a one shot so... I hope you like it!

TW!: Mention of death, reader in a bad state, blood, weapons, use of violence, mention of organs (more specifically the heart)

Since she has been aware she had always been fascinated by death... Not in dying or stuff along the line but rather the complexity and the search of an understanding of it...

She even began working at a morgue at 17 although she had barely graduated and believed it wasn't for her, but my was she wrong...

Her weird fascination did not stop there however as it also transferred to her luck... For some reason death could never get a grasp of her

She had found herself in quite unfortunate situations in her day to day life but every single time there had been someone or something that saved her or aided her... No matter what it always happened, to the point her friends started teasing her about it.

Although she would soon learn it wasn't exactly luck...

Ten months ago she was teleported to the world of One Piece, much to her so called luck and now she found herself in middle of quite a complicated battle...

She was in the middle of a forest surrounded by several bounty hunters, some where strong others were well... They aided through numbers.

However it was she found herself greatly injured after a long intense fight 

"Maybe this is the time my luck abandons me..."

She thought as she looked at all of them, some of them where knocked unconscious but the majority stood straight in front of her...

"You've got nowhere else to run!" 

A bounty hunter yelled out at her as he laughed at her deplorable state, she looked at him blankly her bloodied up face shaped into an angry frown.

He raised his arms acting like he was intimidated by her angry gaze, obviously mocking her

"Ohoho god~ That's scary guys!" He said jokingly making the rest of them laugh "She's gonna kill us with her stare~"

They all laughed at her... She didn't listen at all, all she was thinking was one thing and one thing only...

...

"Will it be worth the cost...?"

In another place, Law suddenly flinched as he felt a shiver go through his entire body...

Someone else was here...

"Captain?" Bepo called for him as he noticed he was distracted once more

Was it her?

...it couldn't be right? 

But then... Why did he feel it so close by...?

He looked up at the sky while Bepo tried to call for him with clear concern...

"Bepo you're in charge..." Law finally spoke after a minute of silence shocking Bepo in the process.

"W-what?!"

Before Bepo could ask for more details Law vanished into thin air leaving a confused Bepo now in charge of the Polar Tang while he was gone.

...

He had a bad feeling...

She dropped to the floor kneeling down as she looked downwards, everyone ceased laughing for a moment before bursting into laughter once more. 

One of them stepped closer to her and kicked her in the face, she grunted in pain as she fell on her back unable to defend herself...

"Look at that she can't even move now!" 

They all burst out laughing, he stepped closer to her and laid his boot on her face with disgust, Her breath hitched in pain resulting in her biting her tongue.

"I don't know why the marines were searching for such a weak pirate..." The bounty hunter stated with clear anger and disgust, he swiftly raised his sword ready to decapitate her right then and there "But oh well, your bounty will be worth it..."

He lowered his sword getting close to her neck...

She burst her eyes open before yelling out

"DEATH JANGO!"

Before the sword touched her a large Shadow appeared and hit the bounty hunter throwing him away from her...

There was no way of regretting anything now...

Everyone stayed silent as they saw how she stood up once more heading to the guys throat pushing him onto the ground with great force...

She was now covered in a complete shadow making her look like she was undead, the large shadow from earlier connecting to her feet as if it was her own shadow. She landed softly next to the guy, much to the horror of the others. They tried to move but as she realized their presence she turned to look at them, making them freeze in horror... She smiled sadically at the sight

"Well would you look at that~"

She didn't intend on any of them leaving alive...

After what felt like an eternity, Law finally arrived where the fight had taken place

"She was here..." He said softly landing onto the ground...

What earlier was a forest now seemed like a morgue of some sorts... Most of the pirates were unconscious, laying on the ground, some of them in terrible conditions.

He walked around examining every single one of them as his eyes shone yellow with every single one he touched

 "Hmm...?" He hummed clearly amazed...

None of them were on the verge of his realms... She had held back, no wonder she had caught his attention.

He kept walking around finally finding the one responsible for all of it, she was still covered in shadow....and blood.

"Guess you still don't have full control..." 

As soon as he spoke she turned to look at him blankly, a blood thirst making her eyes shine red. She ran towards him heading straight for his head, he didn't budge...

In a swift movement he became mist and appeared behind her pinning her to the ground and revealing his true form...

The god of death

She tried setting free but she couldn't, it was like she had rigor mortis in some way

"You're closer to my realm than any of them..." He whispered softly as he held onto her, a glint of pain in his eyes. He raised his hand getting himself ready

"But don't worry..." He said softly "I won't let it happen just yet..." 

His hand then pierced through her chest, she passed out shortly after... He took his hand out of her chest revealing her heart in a tiny box

"After all I can't let the one I've been keeping for so long die just like this can I?"

He spoke softly... The shadow on her body slowly fading away as her heart started beating normally in between Law's hand

[jjungkooksthighs]

“Beyond what we have already discussed, it appears that there are no external threats to the pack. Our females are safe for now.” Namjoon dutifully reports, his eyes trained on the broken pieces of furniture that lay neglected in several places throughout the front hall. 

“For now,” Jungkook repeats, but with far less enthusiasm. “You have been gifted with intelligence and rational decision-making, always weighing what is the best of two outcomes with neutrality. This is one of the major reasons why you were chosen to be my aide, Namjoon.” The Pack Alpha collects the remains of what used to be an end table under one arm, tucking it under one arm before grabbing a chair that had been thrown with his other. Namjoon follows him outside as he speaks, “But I cannot accept that with no worries when the threat is still very much present.” He tosses both articles of furniture in the pile of damaged pieces he’d rendered dysfunctional after ruining them in pursuit of his mate earlier.  

“I know that you want your mate to feel safe, Jungkook,” Namjoon hands him the iron rod, and the Pack Alpha strikes it on the flint, the orange-yellow sparks quickly catching on the wood in the fire pit just a few paces behind their den. “It is clear that you want this threat eliminated for the pack’s own good as well, but for now, it has vanished. Neither myself nor anyone else has spotted its whereabouts since your last known location. So for now, I urge you to focus on the more immediate matter, which is the Ausonde. Do not allow this…this thing to distract you. Your mate will need you on this night.” 

Jungkook watches the embers of the flame begin to spread across the table he’d thrown on top of the pile. The once light brown wood soon turning black under the mouth of the flame that ate away at it. The shadows that the fire casts, somehow, do not seem so dark with the scent of his mate so fresh under his nose, her scent still clinging to his flesh where she’d touched and kissed. 

The thought of her instantly dispels the cloud of unease that had begun to precipitate his mood, and without sparing the fire a second thought, he turns on his heel, sauntering forth with one destination in mind. 

He wanted to see her. Wanted to be near her. Wanted to be with her. 

So much had she entwined herself into his mind, into his very life, that any moment spent alone without her now felt…incomplete. Fragmented, even. 

He passes through the back hall, the fire burning in the sconces excitedly welcoming their master back inside as he moves about with purpose. 

This new regalia he’d been forced to wear really was something. It was customary that each alpha wore clothing made to reflect their achievements and victories in battle as a sign of respect for the first alpha’s conquest. No wolf’s was the same. 

Behind him, the four rows of buck bones clatter down his front clatter when they strike each other from where they are affixed to the singular piece of brown leather that goes diagonally down his chest. His black trousers are tucked into brown deerskin boots, eagle feathers lining the tops of them. 

Simple, yet effective. 

A perfect choice for his closest friend. 

His own boots make low thuds under the heel of each of them with each step that he takes, which are opposite of Namjoon’s, whose make no sound at all. 

He has half a mind to take them off, but when he steps through the threshold of their chamber and sees the beautiful creature stood in the middle of the room with four other omegas huddling about her, he forgets about them. 

Air eludes him, and for a second, he has forgotten all about how to breathe. 

Oxygen matters little compared to her. 

“Namjoon, take everyone with you to the parlor,” he watches the three females crowding his mate immediately step away from her and scurry to the left, their chins pointed down toward the floor while he admires their handiwork. Only Jin remains stood behind her, finishing up with tying the last of her laces in the back of the bodice, utterly uncaring of the fact that the other three women have already hurried away. “I will require a few minutes alone with my mate.” 

The idea of another male touching her made his fangs protract. Gods, he couldn’t even handle himself when another man looked at her for too long. 

But Seokjin was mated, and to Namjoon at that. And for another thing, he was an omega. It was common knowledge that omegeans used physical touch as a language of comfort betwixt them. Helping each other to dress was as typical as the sun rising each morning. 

Perhaps the most important of it all was that Seokjin made his mate happy, and that, above all else, was worth caging his possessiveness. For her, he would do that. For her, he would silence the growl that was so close to rising at the back of his throat. 

“She’s all ready for you, Pack Alpha,” Jin finally steps away, offering a bow before motioning for the three other women to depart first. “Namjoon and I will be waiting in the lounge for you both. We all know what will happen if he and I leave you two all to yourselves.” 

“You all did your work too well,” Jungkook compliments, not even looking at the other omega. His sight is set only on she who must have been carved by the gods just to tempt him. “Now leave us. I should like to admire what I have been granted the gift to see.”

He doesn't walk towards her, seemingly waiting for the rest of them to clear their things out as fast as possible. Jin's hurried whispers as he helps the attendants in the task would usually make her chuckle, but this time, her gaze isn't on them. No. It's fixated on her mate that is stood by the door, his feet seemingly frozen to the ground. Like this, she can't help the way the butterflies in her stomach swarm about excitedly, almost as if ready to jump on him. Like this, she can't help the way her lips part as the dire need to gasp fills her, her breath hitching at how perfectly chiseled his face looks, his hair seemingly have dried up now, framing his face in waves as perfect as those one would find at a warm, sandy beach, so delightful to look at that she wants to run her hand through the locks of them, that thought stirring about a wave of heat in her lower abdomen when memories of the many indecent ways in which the said action had been performed play through her head. Her gaze drifts down to his chest shamelessly, a blush coloring her cheeks when she notices that the outfit he wears barely covers the expanse of his chest, the sight forcing her to stop herself from whimpering out in front of the audience they have. The leather straps barely do much to cover that chiseled chest of his. She'd seen outfits like this before during those few glances she'd been allowed of the Ausonde festival. She could only imagine how fucking gorgeous his back would look strapped within that earthly brown, leather. His abs are visible for all to see this way, the bulge in his biceps prominent under similar leather arm circlets wrapped around them, his wrists adorned with them too, the veins in his arm a delicious sight to watch when his muscles flex. The band that encircles his waist is made entirely of leather as well, a belt encircling it, a bronze-colored belt buckle she'd bought for him as a token of her love sitting there in the middle, perfectly accentuating his waist and torso. Before she can let her gaze wander further, however, the others are quick to scurry out of the room, whispers and low giggles exchanged between Jin and the others at how adorable the couple is. It isn't until the door slams shut behind him that she realizes she'd been staring so brazenly at her mate before so many people, a blush creeping onto her face when she sees him stride towards her, so confident and sure that she is his destination that she can't help but avert her gaze in submission, a whimper leaving her mouth. "Alpha.." Her eyes are planted on the ground, her fingers twisting and playing with the lovely tousle that covers the lower half of her gown, far too shy to really look up at him. Before she can let herself crawl further into that metamorphic shell of bashfulness, his boots come into sight, his voice ringing in her ears sonorously.

"Look at me, omega," he commands, tone soft and oh so sweet, yet firm, a loud whisper breaking the silence like thunder during a rain shower. She's far too shy, far too flustered to really look, for she knows the minute she does, she's going to melt into a mess.

She shakes her head slowly, her hands raising up to grip his, squeezing them as if to steady herself, and yet, she can't bring herself to look up, the way her heart palpitates with excitement far too much for her. Oh, she couldn't survive such a close look at the gorgeous man before her. Surely not! "I.." she stumbles for words, the blush painting her cheeks a redder shade now. "c-can't.." she says, attempting to look up only to avert her gaze once more, shaking her head.

“How like you your gown, my love?” he breathes the words under short breaths, almost like his lungs cannot keep up with his thoughts, “Is it to your liking?”

She nods, her insides becoming warm under his heated stare. 

His curls his digits around the undersides of her forearms, lifting them so he can bring the petals of his lips to each of her ten fingers. His lips are like her favorite flower- soft, yet strong. “I knew you’d be absolutely breathtaking in this, my love.” His mouth moves slow across the middle of her thumb, then her index and then-

“Sometimes when I look at you, I have to remind myself that you…you’re all mine.” His words nourish her very soul, his mouth tending to the fields of her phalanges on her middle finger and ring finger, lingering on that one as if he could put something else there. “I used to think, back when I was but a boy, that the girl from my dreams was too good for me. Too beautiful, too smart, too kind,” he plants his lips along the center of her pinky. “Too perfect to ever want me, who had been too weak to control myself at the thought of her.”

Affliction in the name of affection roots itself within her.

She remembers those dreams. The ones she’d unknowingly shared with him thinking they were just fantasies that couldn’t be real.

So often had he been forced to remain separated from the pack-from her- that she’d hardly even seen him for much of his adolescence. Word had spread that he disappeared for days on end because of his training regimen in the art of combat and weaponry, and none questioned it when all that sparred with or opposed against him fell.

And when he returned from the forest… the crowd of omegas close in age to him were never quiet as they’d flocked together to pine after him those nights.

Those were the nights she spent sitting in front of her window, her fingers longingly tracing each letter on the parchment that had been left on her windowsill, something in her chest aching at the thought of its writer while the scent of faded gardenias, vanilla beans, and pear wafted under her nose.

“I used to think the same, alpha,” she reveals, haltering her sights to his black leather boots he wears.

“No dream could ever be quite so wonderful as the vision before me. Now turn around for me, pretty girl. I want to see all of you.” 

She does as she is commanded, the husk in his voice setting her veins afire. 

Her legs are still wobbly, so she does so slowly knowing that if she tries to move faster, she could fall. 

Not that he’d let her, though. 

When she’s got her back to him, there’s a satisfied rumble that rouses something deep in her core while his irises rove down her exposed spine, the u-shape of the back of the gown leaving little to the imagination as it spans down to the small of her back. Its material is thin, yet light, the several layers of it draped over each other like a fallen cluster of long, unedged leaves. The skirt trails down and behind her lengthily, like a procession of foliage reaching toward and up her body as if drawn to her. 

His vision follows it, ascending from where it tails well behind him all the way up her spine and along her bare left shoulder, where the sheer single layered sleeve has fallen down her arm like moss growing from the body of the left side of the bodice.

His mouth waters at that, the visible, vivid splotches of bruising and dottings of love bites are scattered over her neck and shoulder. 

His hand moves without thought, the pads of his fingertips brushing along her soft, freshly washed flesh. She shivers under his touch, instinctively leaning back into him with a purr on her lips. 

“You look ravishing, my love,” he praises, each of his fingers winding around her arms as he drags them down to her wrists, coaxing her to move toward the floor-to-ceiling length mirror that he’d built into the wall before their bed.  The hard plane of his chest is there against her back as he walks her forward, the hold he’s got on her wrists gentle as he guides her. “Absolutely fucking gorgeous. I cannot take my eyes off of you, my love. I am a lucky, lucky male to have you.”

The low timbre of his voice in her ear when he speaks sets her aflame, her cheeks burning at his adulation. 

“The gods surely wanted to test my restraint on this night. Your beauty surely is something even the most prideful goddess would be jealous of.”

He stills behind her, stopping before the mirror while he takes in the way that her lips have been painted red like strawberries. He wonders if that’s how she’ll taste, licking his own as he does. Her cheeks and under her eyes have been dusted in a similar, yet lighter shade, her lids accented with black lines across them that look sharp enough to cut a man. 

He continues ogling her, his irises dipping down her bare, exposed neck that her attendants had left alone and absent of paint or coverings. 

He wanted everyone to see, to know that she was his. And with the garden of bloomed bruises and bites all over it, no one would wonder about how craven a male she rendered him. 

The neckline of her gown runs like a river across her chest, covering her other shoulder in a translucent layer of white. It is cut into an inflected line with a soft bend in the middle before slanting down fluidly, her bodice filling itself around her shape like water before cascading down in color that deepens the farther down it goes. The fabric plunging over her shoulder is white like sea foam, and the rest is colored like a white oak tree’s boughs once autumn has shaded them red, turning orange like the autumnal sunset around her knees. His sight catches on the exposed leg that she peeks from the slit cut along one side of the skirt, one of his hands releasing her wrist so he can tread it down to graze the back of it along her thigh, a satisfied little sigh from her lips letting him know that she’s enjoying this as much as he is. 

“It will be hard to keep my hands off of you until the end of the traditional rites,” he utters, his hand turning so he can trawl his fingernails lightly along her leg, “Do you know what we must do after we dance before the gods, my love?”

[grizzlyofthesea]

I was bored/sleepy at work, needed to stay awake, and felt edgy, so I drew some sketches based on Once Bitten, Twice Dead. Major spoilers ahead, in both the drawings and the descriptions/explanations. Proceed at your own risk.

Yeah, you can tell I'm excited for Halloween. ^^"

All drawings are completely freehand and pen-based. No rough pencil drafts, no opportunity to erase if I made a mistake. The only pen used was my awesome but cheap 10-color pen I got at a museum a few years ago.

Also, mild to moderate content warning for Draculaura: blood

Draculaura - The Ghoul at the Crossroad

After Dracula's death due to medical negligence, Draculaura begins to lose her vampiric traits. Her fangs slowly dull into normal canine teeth. Garlic and sunlight no longer hurt her. Her skin loses its pinkish pallor. She gains dark circles under her eyes as her circadian rhythm shifts from nocturnal to diurnal. She is losing her monster self...but in a way, it doesn't bother her. Her mother was human; maybe this is just a sign that she should follow in her mother's footsteps and give humanity a try.

But her body is screaming out for blood. Her eyes turn a ravenous red as she finds herself unable to stop staring at the neck of Poe, a bubbly normie boy she meets at a cemetery. As tensions rise at Monster High, and as time until her full transformation into a human runs out, she must pick her path.

Poe survives, but the two may never cross paths again.

Frankie - The Ghoul Who Wants to Fix Everything

Frankie just wants everyone to be happy. She smothers Draculaura with affection in an attempt to alleviate the latter's grief. She wishes everyone--monsters and normies, students and faculty, every group in the student body--could just set aside their differences and stop fighting.

But kind is not always repaid in kind. For all her well wishes, she is kidnapped during a break-in and held for ransom by a group of anti-monster extremists. Her favorite group of ghouls are able to rescue her, but her days with her captors are long and terrifying.

Imagine if she hadn't been so lucky.

Clawdeen and Lagoona - The Ghouls in the Crossfire

Clawdeen and Lagoona don't want to cause any trouble. They just want to hang out with their friends, live their lives, and work toward achieving their greatest dreams. A future fashion designer and an aspiring world-class athlete... What an ambitious duo.

But the chaos at Monster High will not tolerate any bystanders. Clawdeen is on the front lines of a social battle with Cleo, practically snarling as she watches the mummy mimic her father's arrogance. As for Lagoona? She is scared out of her wits after being burned in the swimming pool, even thinking of transferring elsewhere.

You know things are bad when these two feel restless.

Deuce and Cleo - The Couple Who Lost Their Way

Maybe Monster High's most famous couple isn't so dynastic. Cleo finds herself torn between expressing her honest self and supporting her father's bid for Dracula's spot on the school board. Her desire for her father's affection wins out, and she breaks off from Deuce to seal the deal.

Deuce holds stone-firm in his opposition to Ramses, but he slithers away heartbroken and seeks comfort from the rest of the crew. He still loves Cleo and wants the best for her...but is this for the best?

Teenage love is as complex as it is volatile.

Ghoulia - The Invisible Backbone

As the chaos ensues, Ghoulia commits herself to researching just what is going on with Draculaura; we know that she's becoming human, but why? And why is the school falling apart at the same time? It takes a while, but with her dedication and bright mind, she is able to discover the link between these events and a possible way to save everyone.

Ghoulia may be quiet and understated, but without her, all of monsterkind could have been placed in grave danger.

[halfmoonism]

without dreaming of surrender

prsk, an & nagi, lightly implied polysquad || major spoilers for light up the fire

during the battle that breaks her heart, an can’t stand up. but she must.

from plantober day 6: marigold (desperation, light in the darkness)

cw for referenced chara death, non-graphic depictions of grief

Their backs have been against the wall before, but never like this.

Vivid Street, for all of its unforgiving tides and sways against their own current, has always promised to catch her if she got knocked off, but this—this—Uncle Taiga took scissors to the safety net Nagi-san had set for her all those years… no, Nagi-san—!

These streets she’s traced with her love for so long aren’t even clear anymore. They’re wavering into an immeasurable mess of colors and she can’t make sense of it, can’t grab onto anything, can’t find it in herself to tighten her hold of a dream she’s lighting for someone she’ll never again see, she can’t even make sense of anything going on in front of her as Akito and Toya and Kohane step up with the most shakily determined expressions she’s ever seen them wear.

I… want to know. How much of a gap there is between Rad Weekend and me… between us.

An-chan—we’ll go on ahead.

And An… she’ll definitely join us.

Ah. An can see their hands tremble. In the twilight, with all of her shaking, she can still make them out, moving forward without her…!

But that’s not right, is it. Their backs are still close enough to reach out towards, still standing in unison, always together—it’s her that isn’t mustering up the will to stand and fight, even in this city she carved out a space for—

You're safe now, An.

Uncle Taiga raises the microphone and she’s never felt her chest seize up harder than this moment. If she looks past him, the eyes of Vivid Street catch upon her lagging strength and she has no more armor to block off their judgment. Nagi-san isn’t one of the ones looking right at her, she won’t ever be again, she’ll never run through the crowd after a performance and sweep An off her feet into the proud hug An’s always daydreamed about earning, she’ll never tug An’s jacket close and chide her for keeping it open in such cold weather, she’ll never be there to chase An down and tell her she’ll always be loved ever again…

She feels sick. Her legs are unsteady. Even thinking about holding the microphone to her mouth without shaking makes her want to collapse, but she—she can’t—she can’t let it end here, right…? What sort of performance would Nagi-san be watching if—

To disappoint her now is so—

She can’t do that!

When she belts the next line by Toya’s side, his relief filters into her tangled words and the sky eases itself off her chest, just a little. His small, fond smile secures her grip, and Kohane’s proud gaze strikes her straight through her trembling lungs, and Akito’s exasperated grin, all of them haphazard and real, here and breathing and hers.

She can feel it: everyone’s resolve surging around her, cradling her from the horrible truth, the cruel stares. Because when they fight, they’re never fighting alone! She can’t think about anything else but that! And if they’ve all decided to hang on with all they’ve got, she must—she has to—if only they can go higher, Nagi-san will be—!

[diamondangelkitten]

Alinea Skylark

Basics-

A.K.A: Linea, Ali 

Age: Somewhere in her early 30’s after the whole of Endwalker 

Nameday: 18th Sun of the 1st Astral Moon

Race: Wildwood Elezen

Gender: Female

Orientation: Tall men who deal out witty, sarcastic remarks like their life depends on it

Profession: Adventurer, (Wannabe Retired) Warrior of Light 

Physical Aspects-

Hair: Medium long brown hair with purple tips that’s pulled back into a high ponytail to avoid getting in her way during fights. She rarely leaves it down and only does so when she’s completely relaxed.

Eyes: A rich purple color, than have an otherworldly glow to them

Skin: She’s fair skinned, but is able to get a nice tan without burning too much. 

Tattoos/Scars: She doesn’t have any major scars after her battle at Ultima Thule and being covered in starlight across her body, which she essentially counts as a tattoo and would never cover up. Before that, she did have an array of faded cuts and scars across her body from her fights, but none that she deemed particularly worthy of attention.

Family-

Parents: She unfortunately has no memory of her parents, or any family. 

Siblings: None that she is aware of. The twins are essentially her surrogate siblings and she is fiercely protective of them. 

Grandparents: Unfortunately, still no memory, and no one has ever tried to claim relation to her, which she is grateful for. 

In-Laws/Other: Unfortunately Estinien’s family has also passed away, but there is Alberic that they’re both close with. 

Alinea does share a very close relationship with the de Fortemps family, and views Edmont as a father figure. He’s delighted to finally have a girl in the family and loves the fact that she can keep all his boys in line. 

Alinea is in a romantic relationship with Estinien. They spend a lot of time between Radz at Han, Alinea’s home in the Mist ward, and her island. They normally go the latter when they want to be alone and undisturbed by anyone. Alphinaud and Alisae have full access to Alinea’s home in Mist, so they often stop by.

Pets:

Yes (just yes haha)

Notable mentions however:

Lumen her Chocobo and faithful companion. He’s extremely well trained, but Alinea is still terrified he’ll get hurt in battle, so she tries to make him mainly heal from a safe distance away.  

She has many animals in her care that she absolutely loves. She tries to not choose favorites, but she has a very special place in her heart for her fox. 

She has two carbuncles that are summoned at all times. The pink one is called Sephy while the purple one is called Demetri. They are very protective of both each other and Alinea. Estinien knows to never be on their bad side and has been seen giving them extra treats to butter them up. 

Skills-

Hand and Land: She’s a pretty deft hand at most of the jobs she sets her mind to, but she enjoys weaving and cooking the most. She finds them both extremely therapeutic and she also likes that she can make gifts for those closest to her. She’s fascinated by alchemy, but she has to really focus to not mix-up ingredients when she has to make concoctions. She also enjoys being out in the land, but finds more joy in botany, though she doesn’t have the greenest thumb around. She knows how to cultivate the land though and how to set things up to thrive on her own. 

Combat: She is a Paladin first and foremost and will always love protecting others. She’s more in tune with the teachings of a Dark Knight though, so she’ll often switch between the two. She turned to being a summoner after coming back from the First with high anxiety, but she also finds dancing to be enjoyable. After striking up a deal with an Amaro back on the first, she sets herself the goal of mastering every fighting job she hears about, and aims to get the highest she can. She can do some healing, but prefers to either be in the front lines as a tank, or be in a ranged position, to call out mechanics to those in front and be able to help out with shields and resing. 

Hobbies: She loves swimming and with the Kojin’s blessing enjoys it even more now. She loves long baths and pampering herself after her travels. She collects tea blends and dried flowers from the places she’s gone. She’s trying to get into drawing and painting from Alphinaud, but she’s still got a long way to go. She enjoys braiding and playing with people’s hair. 

Traits-

Most Positive: She has a strong sense of right and wrong and once she’s set her mind on something being the best course of action, she will continue through with it until completion. (Or someone physically stops her from achieving it).

Most Negative: She cannot control her facial expressions. She has to work so hard on keeping a neutral face in important meetings that half the time she misses what was discussed. She also is very passionate, so has to be careful to not speak her mind. 

Likes-

Colors: Purple, Silver, Black, and White

Smells: Fresh Bread, Jasmine, Ocean, Moss/Damp Forest 

Textures: Silk and satin dresses/sheets, Pumice stone, Animal Fur, Hair 

Drinks: Hot tea, Cocoa, Milk

Foods: Bread, Pastries (scones of her own making are her favorite), Breakfast Foods, Fresh Fruit 

Other-

Vices: None, except sometimes being a bit stingy on money when it comes to teleportation. 

Mount Issuance: Lumen was her Mount from the Maelstrom when she joined and who she loves dearly. 

Been Arrested: None that she can at least remember. She’s amazed she was never arrested in Ishgard just for being in association with Alphinaud and Tataru, but she’s glad things worked out that way. She’s sure she would have been arrested if she actually did punch Fourchenault, but she wouldn’t have cared a bit.  

Tagged by @halikyon

Not going to tag anyone, but if you see this and want to do it, please do so!!! It's a lot of fun!

[firewvlk]

Look who just woke up- is that ZOEY DEUTCH? No, I must have been mistaken, that’s JAINA SOLO from STAR WARS. I heard she is 29 and stuck here just like everyone else. Even in the 20’s, they still give off a PURPLE LIGHTSABER, REBEL PILOT HELMET, AND GREASE STAINED HANDS impression. They’re known to be quite PRAGMATIC, but have a tendency to be DETACHED on their bad days.

gender/pronouns

cisfemale & she/her

how long have they been in sydney:

real time: roughly 3 years

which suburb do they live in:

she lives in newtown

personality description:

jaina is known for her strong and complex personality. she’s a resilient and determined individual, possessing a natural charisma that draws others to her. she is fiercely independent and possesses a strong sense of justice, always striving to do what is right. she is also a skilled and disciplined warrior, having received extensive training in the ways of the force and combat. that leads to her perhaps being a little over confident, at times.

despite her formidable abilities, she is also known for her compassion and empathy. she deeply cares about the well-being of others and is willing to make personal sacrifices to protect those she loves. like her mother, she possesses a sharp tongue intellect and strategic mindset, enabling her to analyze situations and make calculated decisions. but she can also be a bit of a hot-head, and is often too passionate.

her upbringing in a family of legendary heroes and darth vader, and her experiences during times of conflict have shaped her into a resilient and adaptable individual. she has faced numerous challenges and deep losses, which have contributed to her maturity and strength of character, as well as, a tendency to detach herself from others. she holds a unique ability to balance the light and dark sides of the force.

memories of their real life:

the only daughter of han solo and leia organa solo, making her part of the prominent solo, organa, naberrie, and skywalker families.

twin sister of jacen solo & the older sister of anakin solo.

she grew up on coruscant in a galaxy plagued by conflict, particularly during the era of the galactic civil war and the subsequent conflicts with the remnants of the galactic empire.

due to her parents always being busy, she and her brothers were mostly raised by nannies before being sent off for jedi training.

as a member of the new jedi order, jaina received training in the ways of the force from her uncle, luke skywalker, and became a skilled jedi knight. she participated in numerous battles and faced formidable adversaries, honing her combat skills and developing her connection to the force.

she played a crucial role in various major conflicts, including the yuuzhan vong war, where she fought against the extragalactic invaders threatening the galaxy. both as a jedi and a rogue squadron pilot.

she was constantly on the front lines of battle during the war, earning the title of sword of the jedi from her uncle, and becoming known as an avatar of the trickster goddess yun-harla to the yuuzhan vong.

the death of her younger brother caused her to walk dangerously close to the dark side, to the point she was able to use black force lightning, but she was ultimately pulled back.

in the aftermath of the war, she continued to serve as a jedi knight and contributed to rebuilding efforts. she played a pivotal role in restoring peace and stability to the galaxy while contending with various threats and challenges.

the biggest of which was a split with her twin brother and him eventually falling to the dark side and becoming a sith lord.

she trained under boba fett to gain an edge over him, and ended up defeating and killing her twin in a lightsaber duel.

after jacen’s death, she remained a key member of the new jedi order, and was eventually given the rank of master.

what was their fake life like:

tba after plotting

[frozen-hearts-cannot-be-broken]

What does your muse smell like?

Before the Blaze- Lavender or lilac deodorant & strawberry shampoo; will put on some nice perfume if she’s feeling fancy or if it’s a special occasion

After the Blaze- Like a doctor’s office; cannot use scented deodorants or hair products due to her line of work; emits a musk that smells faintly of ozone & winter when using her powers

What do your muse’s hands feel like?

Before- Smooth & delicate; she’s never really had to work a day in her life & it shows

After- Very dry due to her constantly being cold; the beginnings of callouses are starting to form & her touch is literally as cold as ice; she wears specially made gloves not so much for her comfort, but everyone else’s 

What does your muse usually eat in a day?

Before- Anything quick & easy to make (frozen & microwavable meals, sandwiches, etc.) or takeout; she does try to keep track of what she puts in her body though, making sure to keep her meals balanced & more or less healthy

After- Whatever Kray puts in front of her; he has her on a very strict, well-balanced diet to keep in her in the best shape possible; sweets & takeout are out of the question the majority of the time, but he does treat her on special occasions or when she does a good job (a happy prisoner worker is a good worker, after all); to Kray’s credit(?), the meals he has prepared for her are always gourmet level, so I guess that’s something?

Does your muse have a good singing voice?

Before- Yes; she didn’t have much interest in following in either of her parent’s footsteps, preferring to seek a career in the arts rather than the sciences, & her parents were both encouraging & able to finance her pursuits; her mother’s best friend was a former rock singer turned vocal coach who started giving Thiya lessons as an early teen; a few years later, Thiya started a YouTube channel where she would post her various covers & over time gained a decent-sized fanbase, big enough to warrant the occasional live performance

After- Thiya still retains her powerful voice, but she’s very out of practice; she also doesn’t really feel like it anymore, saying it doesn’t make her as happy as it once did; that being said, she can still be heard humming or singing under her breath whenever she hears a song she likes (most of which are now considered ‘oldies’ or ‘classics’); the few times she sang while under Kray’s care were to distract herself from the pain brought on by her physical therapy and/or recovery from battles with Mad Burnish

Does your muse have any bad habits or nervous ticks?

Before- Wrings her hands when nervous, along with stammering & stuttering; laughs when she’s overwhelmed & can’t figure out how to express it, which can be a bit unsettling to those around her

After- Any & all physical nervous ticks have been conditioned out, although she does cackle hysterically when receiving devastating news; has probably developed a crap-ton of unhealthy coping mechanisms, especially once she’s learned the truth about Kray; much like Galo, she deeply craves validation & praise from Kray; this hero worship is later shifted to Galo, Lio, & to a lesser extent, Ignis

What does your muse usually look like / wear?

Before- Will usually prioritize comfort over fashion, doesn’t really have a very unique style; hates high heels with a burning passion; will put in the effort for special occasions such as black-tie events hosted by her parents’ colleagues (long dress, a little makeup & putting her hair up or a suit & tie combo, depending on how she’s feeling) or concerts (tight clothes that show off her figure, combat boots, styled hair, leather jacket or trench-coat; think, Mad Burnish Lite); doesn’t like showing much skin, regardless of occasion 

After- When working as the Freezish, Thiya doesn’t wear much under her armor so as not to restrict her movements (usually a specially made catsuit, combat boots, utility belt, & goggles--almost like a superhero); when she’s not working, she dresses as casually as she did before, just with more layers; all of her clothes are custom made, preserving what little natural body heat she has left

Is your muse affectionate? How much? How so?

Before- Thiya is very affectionate with her loved ones, although she’s not the biggest fan of PDA; her preferred means of conveying affection are acts of service, gift giving & words of confirmation, but also enjoys physical affection if the other person is comfortable with it; is VERY touchy when intoxicated

After- Same as before, if not a little more reserved; she was a bit affectionate with Kray at times; closes herself off something fierce after the events of the movie; still strongly desires to give & receive affection but distances herself from others to keep from getting hurt or worse, making others uncomfortable; she also doesn’t believe she deserves any, so she doesn’t really give it

What position does your muse sleep in?

Before- On her side or stomach while cuddling her pillow, which she also drools on

After- On her back with her hands at her sides; could easily pass for a corpse

Could you hear your muse in the hallway from another room?

Before- Only if she’s singing or mad

After- Only if she’s singing or absolutely livid

Thanks to @ofhope for the template

[kelpiemomma]

For someone who loves AUs I cannot believe I am JUST NOW realizing I can absolutely play with a harvest moon universe of pokemon Arceus/bw mashup.

Young Akari (14-16) moves to run down, forgotten Nimbasa Town. It's largely a closed up ghost town due to people passing by it on the way to Nimbasa City. There's a busted up train track that goes through town. There's a general store, a veterinary clinic, and a doctor's office. Everything else is closed up and boarded off. Akari starts growing some seeds on an abandoned farm, sends them off, and makes a surprising amount of money. She's able to buy more from the general store which lets them get new inventory. She finds an injured pokemon in front of her home one day so she takes it to the veterinary office. It's a stray and unclaimed, so she pays for it and it's put under her name. She's a novice enough at farmwork that she's a familiar face at the doctor's.

She manages to bring attention to the town by stopping some plasma grunts trying to rob the general store with nothing but an old hoe and her pokemon partner. People try to interview her but she keeps ducking into these old buildings that have... Good bones. Good structure. The towns got a good aesthetic.

Elesa is the first to move in after. She retires from being a gym leader and sets up a boutique. She still models but now she can follow her passion, designing clothes and living quietly when she wants to. Akari's been wearing the same three outfits for almost a year so as soon as Elesa opens up, she's there with a literal bag of money asking if Elesa can make her or direct her to hardy wear. Elesa takes the opportunity to make her work clothes that are also fashionable and then asks Akari if she wouldn't mind her taking photos of her working on the farm in them as advertisment. Akari gives her okay, as long as her face is kept out of it.

Beni is the next person to move in, starting a little restaurant in an old cafe. He offers standard eating or battle meals. He's older and half-retired, but his food is good enough that the town's reputation grows even more. People start coming by not only because of Elesa and her latent celebrity status, but also because of Beni's cooking. A couple homes are bought, people moving into them as fixer-uppers to help provide liquidity to the town. The only issue is most people need to walk from Nimbasa City to Nimbasa Town, and despite the safety of the route... People are lazy.

As she was the one who initially caused the town to gain popularity, people start approaching Akari with the issue. Asking her how to fix it, what they should do. She doesn't know, she's still a kid! Elesa is the one who takes her aside and says she may have an idea, if Akari can help clear up the train tracks.

Akari cleans them up as best as she can, despite having no idea of what she's doing and STILL farming. She's gotten a few miltank and ducklet to help supplement her income, but her majority of profit comes from the plants. She wears herself out quite often, to the point where it's not uncommon for her to wake up in the clinic. Pesselle, who runs it with her husband and Croagunk, is always disappointed but literally can't stop her.

Once the tracks are cleaned up, Elesa brings in her solution: Ingo and Emmet. They, of course, have final say in what happens but Nimbasa Town becoming a re-connected railway line could provide not only transit to their town for residents, but a new destination for battle passengers and regular passengers alike. Surprisingly the town appeals to both brothers and they agree to petition for the line to be re-connected. Unsurprisingly, part of the draw is their friendship with Elesa- it will be easier for them to see and visit her with the trains running directly to town.

They start getting trains coming in regularly. The tracks run fairly close to Akari's farm, so she waves whenever she sees one go by. The conductors all get used to her and wave back, and sometimes if there's no battle going on Emmet and Ingo will as well. It becomes such a common occurrence and pattern that when they pass by one day and don't get a wave the conductor slows the train a little. With no battles, Ingo and Emmet are in the engine and everyone's looking around. They figure maybe she's elsewhere that day- until they spot her pokemon running frantically out of the crop field and towards them and then back to the field. It does this repeatedly, spitting out attacks but not chasing after them. Ingo and Emmet decide to check it out- they have no battles, after all. They manage to get off the train and cross the little river that lines the boundary of the farm. Akari's pokemon practically herds them to the crop field where they find the teenager collapsed amongst the plants, out cold. They quickly take her to Pesselle who is incredibly Displeased with the teenager once again being in her clinic. The twins hang around for a bit before deciding to visit Elesa.

They tell her what happened and she's like, "yeah, she does that. We've all picked her up and brought her in. We try to feed her and everything, keep her healthy, but if there's no one keeping watch over her she just... goes until she literally can't. since no one loves on the farm with her, or near her, we can only help so much." Which. Is highly unpleasant to hear. Elesa has said she's spent the night several times with the girl, but given she has her own store to run she can't be hovering over her to make sure she rests.

They start keeping a closer eye out when they pass by, slowing the train even during battles to make sure she is awake and alert. They have to get her to Pesselle a handful more and decide that you know what? This child needs more supervision. They swap their schedules so they can start working from Nimbasa Town as well, frequenting Akari's homestead when they're not running the trains to bring her meals and check on her. She's very much embarrassed by it but she's also grateful- she likes the company and will happily chat their ears off about what's growing well, what isn't, what Pokemon are thriving, which ones she's planning on rehoming... she doesn't battle but she listens intently to them talking about the trains and the battle system and their pokemon.

Akari ends up spending a lot of time with the twins and Elesa. With the three of them providing local celebrity, Beni providing excellent meals, and more people constantly arriving and finding it a quaint, cute place to live... Nimbasa Town starts to thrive once again.

[serpenteve]

why we ship darklina

an essay literally no one asked for

Nobody needs a "reason" to ship Darklina. But considering this is a villain x hero pairing, it got me thinking about why we shipped it in the first place when the narrative and author so badly wanted us to root for the more sensible alternative pairing and why it became the most popular ship of the entire trilogy.

Personally, I find it really interesting (and low-key hilarious) that a lot of the reasons shippers gravitated towards Darklina can be directly traced back to how badly Bardugo bungled Alina's character arc, Mal's entire characterization and narrative role, Nikolai's wasted potential as an alternative love interest, and the noble intentions she gives the the Darkling.

Alina's Character Arc

Alina's character arc doesn't match who she is as a character. I've written more about that in this post, but a lot of readers were introduced to a passive and insecure protagonist who we were expecting to undergo a typical YA coming-of-age character arc where Alina acquires self-acceptance, confidence, and embraces the full breadth of her powers over the course of the trilogy. Instead, Bardugo gave Alina the kind of character arc that's usually deserved for power-hungry anti-heroines or tragic heroes with a fatal flaw to punish.

The plot offers a strange binary: either Alina suppresses and hides her powers and therefore stays away from descending into villainy OR Alina attempts to find Morozova's amplifiers in order to defeat the Darkling but then becomes corrupted by power in the process. Alina's journey to self-acceptance and exploring her own powers are unfortunately entangled with her relationship with the Darkling. The only way she is allowed to move forward through the plot is to succumb to the corrupting influence of the amplifiers.

For better or for worse, the first character to really embrace her powers instead of thinking she's a fraud or that she's weak or that she's an unholy abomination is the Darkling. He's the first person to recognize her power for what it is and accurately judge its potential and implications for the rest of the world. He advocates for her in front of the royal court, in front other Grisha who think she's weak, and even against Baghra who is initially a very ill-tempered mentor with little to no faith in Alina's abilities. He even rather ironically advocates for her even when the heroic person who's supposed to be supporting her (Mal) does not.

At the start of her journey, Alina is insecure and in constant need of assurance and validation. The Darkling's role as her mentor and guide into this unfamiliar world of Grisha makes him the perfect advocate not only for her powers but also to help Alina see her place in the world. However, once he is revealed to be the villain, Alina also fails to realize that it's time for her to advocate for herself and throws the baby out with the bathwater.

Mal's Characterization & Narrative Role

When Alina loses the Darkling as an advocate in S&B, Mal steps up to take this role. Alina is still rather passive for the majority of the first book and it's Mal who originally wants her to have Morozova's stag as an amplifier if it will mean being able to stand against the Darkling. Bardugo intended for him to be a heroic love interest as a foil to the villainous love interest and I believe she mostly succeeds for the first book.

However, because this is a story about punishing Alina's "evil ambition" (despite there being very little evidence of that) Mal is supposed to serve as a voice of reason in the narrative. Once Alina considers the necessity of acquiring more amplifiers to defeat the Darkling, it is Mal's role to warn her of the potential consequences, to remind her of her inner humanity, and to ward against the corrupting influence of Morozova's amplifiers. Mal's declarations that he wants back the old girl he knew without any power is meant to drive an ideological wedge between them, yes, but he's also meant to be Correct™ because, again, Bardugo is writing a story about a corrupted power-hungry heroine who goes too far and needs to be punished rather than the arc we were all expecting and the one that Alina's character needs: a coming-of-age story of self-acceptance and personal growth.

Some point after the backlash of Siege & Storm, Bardugo seems to have become aware of her mistake and attempts to scrub Mal's character to be more sympathetic. There is a bizarre exchange half-way through the third book when Mal finally declares:

"I wasn't afraid of you, Alina. I was afraid of losing you. The girl you were becoming didn't need me anymore, but she's who you were always meant to be."

This is an interesting line because it's a complete reversal of Mal's narrative role so far. He's supposed to be her voice of reason that opposes her at every turn but readers interpreted him as being resentful of Alina's powers and angry that she was no longer dependent on him. Bardugo is forced to retcon Mal's entire role in the narrative from being a voice of reason that opposes Alina's quest for power to a supportive friend who will fight by her side. But this was never her initial intention and I believe this change was brought on 100% by audience reaction because she failed to understand the arc her heroine needed and the kind of story her audience was anticipating for such a character.

Needless to say, having your heroine's main love interest actively resent her quest for power until half-way through the third damn book did not endear many readers to Mal. Because Bardugo failed to understand the kind of character development her heroine needed and failed to understand audience expectations, we hated Mal. He became the embodiment of every toxic chauvinist we'd ever met who can't stand the idea of his partner's success and feels entitled to be the center of her universe. He was not the voice of reason. He was an annoying gnat hellbent on dragging the heroine down and away from her destiny. We did not want to root for him. Even the villain was more sympathetic than him because he could bring her closer to achieving the self-acceptance the narrative was obsessed with denying her.

Nikolai's Wasted Potential as a Solid Love Interest

Nikolai plays several roles in Alina's journey but most importantly in our discussions for why we ended up shipping Darklina, his entire potential as a serious love interest is wasted.

When we meet Nikolai, we have hitched our wagons to the Darklina train because despite being the villain, the Darkling is the only one who will allow the heroine to accept her powers and come into her own. Her heroic love interest, Mal, is actively sabotaging her efforts and holding her back from her true potential. But then, in swoops Nikolai and we pause, wondering if there may be a better heroic alternative after all?

In a lot of ways, Nikolai and the Darkling alike: they are eager for Alina's power and see her as a solution to all their problems. They may want to use Alina to prop up their own agendas, but unlike Mal, Alina's summoning powers are a massive plus, not a burden. Nikolai is the heroic alternative to our villainous Aleksander. So we wait, wondering if Nikolai will be the one to fix this mess of a romantic subplot. His royal connections offer an easy path to upwards mobility for our heroine and we sense that an alliance between them (even if it's initially political in nature) may bring our heroine closer to obtaining more power, influence, and self-acceptance not only for herself, but also for the oppressed minority she is a part of.

But, again, Bardugo is still obsessed with that "punish the heroine for wanting power" agenda so while Nikolai exists as another mentor figure who offers Alina advice on how to rule, how to appeal to other people, how to charm, how to win people over, and Alina learns and applies much of what she learns from him, he is not treated as a real love interest.

Despite Nikolai being written as a fairy tale prince (handsome, charming, smart as a whip, brave in battle, etc) Alina never actually considers him romantically. They are friends and allies at best and the only time she considers kissing him is only when she's pissed about Mal.

Nikolai's proposal at the end of Ruin & Rising feels like one last saving grace, one last opportunity for our heroine to take control of her life and make a dramatic change to break from the past. But this too is rejected because Alina's arc will never let her access any power. She does not reject Nikolai because she wants to marry for love. She rejects him because she has been "punished" for wanting power and has internalized that she must not seek any more power for fear of angering the plot gods (and Bardugo). She must return to being nobody in order to remain a good and moral person.

(And, of course, we resent Mal even more because who in their right mind would choose him over Nikolai? Once again, he becomes a roadblock on our heroine's journey to power. We grow irritated that the heroine is failing to grasp an opportunity to elevate herself. We throw the book against the wall. Why are we even following this heroine?)

The Darkling's Motivations

Still, all of the above might still not have been enough to pull the reader to the villain's side. But the Darkling is the living embodiment of Villain Has A Point™. He is not pure unadulterated evil. He is not Lord Sauron or Voldemort or the Terminator.

He's more Magneto, Roy Batty, or Ozymandias---a man who is part of an oppressed minority who longs for justice and power but is absolutely unhinged in his methods.

Alina runs away because she does not want to be a non-consenting weapon in hands. But we always end up wondering what would have happened had Baghra not warned her. What would have happened if Alina gladly joined the Darkling's side? There's hundreds of fanfics written precisely about this situation because despite the villainy of his methods, we wonder if Ravka might not have been safer after all?

If the Darkling had used the Fold as a weapon against Fjerda and Shu Han, would any of the problems Ravka faces in the later books even exist? Would any Grisha fall victim to the khergud programs or be killed as witches? The Darkling wipes out Novokribirsk and kills hundreds of lives, but how many would he have saved with the Fold as Ravka's greatest shield and sword? 🤷🏽‍♀️

And therein lies the problem with the trilogy inconsistent moral landscape. The Darkling is an anti-villain that exists in a narrative that is very black and white, unlike the rest of the books in the Grishaverse where our protagonists are anti-heroes who kill, steal, and torture their way through the plot with nary a judgmental glance from the narrative. We long to see our heroine give in to her dark side and get her hands dirty because watching a naive, passive, scared little girl grow into a ruthless powerful Grisha would have made for a hell of a compelling story.

But that's not the story Bardugo wanted to tell.

The Greg Trilogy

Despite taking place in a fantasy Tsartist setting, the Grisha trilogy is oddly anti-Grisha. The narrative doesn't spend much time trying to examine the context or implications of an oppressed minority group fighting for power other than to say "magic powers = evil". Nikolai skates by on a throne of inherited wealth, privilege, and imperialism but it's okay because he's charming and witty and the only monstrous part of him is the Darkling's curse. Literally everything is worse for Ravka and their Grisha after the destruction of the Fold but Ravka must move forward into a new age without relying on Grisha power but putting their efforts into new muggle technologies. Alina must be stripped of her powers and returned to her "old self" in order to be purged of evil.

Basically, it's all one gigantic ✨ dumpster fire ✨ of mismatched character arcs, incompatible moral aesops, inconsistent characterizations, wasted potential, unexamined plot points but it's a a dumpster fire we lovingly and spitefully embrace in fanfic.

We don't ship Alina with the Darkling because we're stupid abuse apologists who somehow missed the giant flashing moral aesop of the books---and honestly, who could have possibly missed them when it's shoved in the reader's face every other chapter? We ship Alina with the Darkling because the entire ship is the embodiment of wasted potential (and wasted ✨aesthetics✨ tbqh 👀). We ship Alina with the Darkling because we're sick and tired of stories where female power is demonized. We ship Alina with the Darkling because the plot gave us literally no other alternative to see our heroine succeed except to give in to her alleged villainy.

But most of all, people ship Darklina because Leigh Bardugo utterly failed in writing the story she intended to write because had she succeeded, Darklina would not be the most popular ship of the trilogy.

[let-them-read-fics]

Flames

Requested By Anon "King" -- Cooking au, enemies to lovers, inspiration from Hell's Kitchen

Pairing: Lisa x Fem!Reader

AU: Chef (Lisa & Reader are chefs)

Word Count: ~ 5,904

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering / Rivalry, Fluff, Suggestive Scene

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Helllloooo, peeps! I hope all of you are taking care of yourselves and having great days / nights, wherever you are :) Special thanks to this anon for being so sweet in their request -- I love cooking shows, too, so this was a fun one to write. Thank you for requesting! You're welcome in my inbox anytime ❤ Hope you guys enjoy this one :)

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

"Three sirloins, dying on the pass!" You shout out to your fellow chefs, shaking your head in disapproval. Service has been running fairly smoothly tonight, but a recent influx of celebrities coming from a nearby award show is slowing things to a halt. 

You give attention to the pans in front of you, stirring each of them in the pattern you've set and keeping a steady rhythm. Consistency is key, and you're one of the only chefs who hasn't lost focus yet. 

The other? Lisa Manoban. 

"Side dishes heading to the pass," she announces, setting the pans down for your head chef to plate and approve of. He does so without a second thought, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. 

The cocky smirk on Lisa's lips soon falters, though, when he gives her a warning. "You were almost too late, Manoban. Speed things up. Y/N is keeping the pace set, and you need to follow suit." 

Checkmate.

"Yes, chef," she nods, though you can tell she's annoyed. You snicker quietly, and thankfully the sounds of the kitchen conceal your little noise. If your manager were to hear you you'd surely get reprimanded, and Lisa doesn't deserve the satisfaction of seeing that. 

She returns to her station across from you, briefly meeting your gaze as a competitive fire flashes in her eyes, ignited by the comment from your higher-up.  

This is the routine that the two of you have settled into ever since you were hired five months ago. Both of you had applied for the same position, and you quickly worked your way up to where you are now. Every time you were promoted, she was never far behind. The tense nature of your relationship (if you'd even call it that) is rooted in who can put out the best tasting dishes and receive the most recognition and praise for their work. It's childish, but you'd be lying to say that part of you doesn't enjoy it. 

Especially when you win. 

Tonight is shaping up to be one of those nights, and your confidence builds with every compliment you receive. You don't let it go to your head, though; if anything, you use it as a reason to push yourself harder. 

Lisa isn't discouraged in the slightest, and she produces some of her best work right alongside yours.

"Chef, table 15 has requested for the cooks who prepared their dishes to come out to their table. They want to thank them properly," the server informs your manager, cocking his head to the side to motion towards them. 

After recognizing them as a pair of world-renowned fashion designers, he decides to sacrifice some of his best cooks' time on the line and grant their wishes. 

"What dishes did they have?" 

"Both ordered the sirloin and asparagus with potato purée, sir." 

Your head shoots up at that, excited by the confirmation of what you had been hoping for. Your senior nods to the server, turning around at the pass to look at you. 

"Y/N, Lisa; head out to greet our guests, please." 

"Right away, sir."

"On it, chef."

Both of you inform your assistants of the time left on your respective components before following after the waiter. Lisa not-so-subtly elbows you in an attempt to walk in front of you, but you step on her foot to prevent her from doing so. 

Pushing and shoving each other like schoolgirls until you're in line of sight of the customers, you follow the waiter up to their table. He leaves shortly after dropping you off.

"Good evening, ladies," you greet with a smile, watching as their faces light up. 

Lisa steps forward and extends a hand to one of them, making a crimson blush rush to her cheeks. A new feeling blossoms in your chest at their interaction, and you don't know how to take it. Deciding to just move on, you ask about their meals. 

"I hope dinner was everything you wanted it to be."

"Oh, absolutely. The sirloin was cooked perfectly. Which one of you is responsible for it?"

A proud smile forms on your lips at that, and you bow your head lightly. "Me, miss. I'm glad you enjoyed." 

"I'll have to come back more often, then. Cute and skilled? Count me in." She smirks at you, eyes taking in the sight of you in your uniform as she shamelessly flirts. You blush under her gaze, but hide it with a smug smile of your own.

"We'd be lucky to have you back anytime." 

You shoot a glance at the other girl as well, making sure to keep her feeling included. Lisa's eye roll goes unnoticed by you, as does the dejected look that threatens to show on her beautiful face. 

"My favorite part was the side dishes. The sirloin was great, but that purée was delicious. And don't even get me started on the risotto from earlier," the other woman gushes, praising Lisa's work for the night. The Thai girl perks up at that, her confidence on its way to being fully restored. 

"Ah, you're too kind." She attempts to sound humble, but you know the truth; she lives for this sort of thing. The rush of cooking and serving up dish after tasty dish is thrilling, but nothing compares to getting compliments from the customers. 

"I'm just stating facts..." she leans forward in her chair, obviously eyeing Lisa's chest as she reads her name off of her chef coat, "...Lisa." 

"Oh, yeah? How about I whip you up another batch, then? Any side you want." Your rival offers, a bruisingly sexy smile on her face as she gazes down at the woman. It isn't new for either of you to flirt with the customers and schmooze your way into their hearts (and wallets), but something in the way Lisa admires the diner makes you jealous. 

Her eyes scan over the menu as if she's looking through the options again, but she turns back to bite her lip and toy with Lisa some more. "Are you on the menu?"

She chuckles at the line, clearly not expecting that; she should've, though; it's one of the most overused pick-ups that you've ever heard. 

"I can be--"

Just as Lisa goes to lean closer to her, the waiter comes back. For some reason unknown to you, you release a breath of relief, thankful for the interruption. 

"I hate to break this up, but our chefs are needed back in the kitchen." He informs, linking his arms behind his back respectfully. 

"Ah, that's too bad. Maybe we'll stick around until service is over." Lisa's fan says, looking to her friend with a shrug of her shoulders in a silent request for her opinion. 

"Maybe, if that's alright with you."

Your customer looks up at you with hopeful eyes, though she attempts to hide it to some degree; she's not as brazen as her counterpart. 

"Of course, darling," you decide to play into it. "You're welcome to stay as long as you'd like. I do recommend getting some dessert, though; pass the time a little faster. I'll be making the sweetened soufflé, if you're interested." 

"Sounds delicious; I'm sold." She smiles at you, looking you up and down one last time. 

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, ladies." You nod, bidding both of them farewell as you turn to follow after the waiter. Lisa does the same, and you can feel her hot on your trail shortly after. 

"Back to your stations, both of you," your executive chef says upon your arrival, as if you had other intentions. 

"Yes, chef," both of you respond, heading back without a second thought. 

After pushing out a few more main dishes, you're instructed to rotate positions as the desert course kicks off. Other chefs will handle the remaining entrées now and allow you the opportunity to take over with the sweets. 

Once you've buttered and coated the soufflé dish with granulated sugar, you combine the appropriate ingredients in the bowl that rests on the countertop in front of you, making sure to keep an eye on the milk as it heats up on the stovetop. Once both tasks are completed, you stir some of the milk into the batter you made, tempering the mixture. After you're satisfied with the consistency of it, you add the rest of it back to the pot on the stove and carefully whisk the ingredients together. 

As that mellows out, you beat the egg whites required for the dish and add in the different extracts that the recipe calls for. Before long, you've folded both components in with one another and the dessert is ready to be baked. 

"Nice work, Y/N. Keep it up." Your head chef encourages, making pride swell in your chest again.

You continue on with that steady pace, and all of your soufflés come out as tasty as ever, receiving plenty of praise from your happy customers. Lisa works just as hard, though, and her toffee puddings are a major hit with the diners. 

Two hours later, dinner service is finally over. 

Lisa finishes cleaning up her station as she sneaks a glance over to you, feeling her heart beat a little faster at the way you push your hair out of your face. A few drops of condensation tumble their way down the bottle of water that you're drinking from, clearly exhausted and hot after working so hard for so long, and she bites her lip. You're too attractive for your own good, and Lisa reprimands herself for admiring you in such a way. 

You're practically enemies, after all; constantly striving for better positions and more attention, it's a never-ending battle of who can come out on top. She loves the game, if she's honest; keeping you on your toes is one of her favorite pastimes, and the banter is always a plus. 

Especially when it gets heated. 

She loves the way your brow twitches and your lips press together when you're forced to bite your tongue and keep the bickering to a minimum. You're too mature to play into her games most of the time -- not wanting to piss your head chef off -- but sometimes she gets you to break and fire off another reply, not caring what he'll say. 

She loves it. Nothing will ever compare to getting you riled up like that. 

"How's my girlfriend doing out there?" Lisa asks the server with a smile, tilting her head forward to motion to the dining room. 

"They're the only ones still here. I have to hand it to them; they're dedicated." He chuckles, clapping Lisa on the back as he passes her. "They've been talking about both of you all night." He concludes, looking between the two of you before retreating to the break room to change. 

Lisa laughs at that, and you curse yourself under your breath for enjoying the sound. 

"Come on, let's go see them before they storm the kitchen," she plays, winking at you as she pushes the swinging door open. 

At The Table, A Few Minutes Later

"I saved you a bite," your customer says, smiling at you as she reaches for a spoon that hasn't been used yet. Her friend catches the uncertain look in your eye, and she decides to ease your fears. 

"Don't worry, she didn't slobber all over it. She cut that piece out before she started eating earlier." 

You nod, thankful for the clarification. The woman turns back to Lisa, satisfied with her good deed for the day, and the two begin flirting again. 

After the woman in front of you scoops the tasty dessert up, she holds the spoon out in front of your lips. A knowing smile spreads across your cheeks, and you open your mouth for her to feed you. 

She's cute, you must say. Her auburn hair falls across her shoulders in perfect waves, complementing the velvety color of her leather jacket wonderfully. A pattern of freckles runs across the bridge of her nose, and a single, deep-set dimple presses into the soft skin of her right cheek. 

The sound of her laughter carries out across the room as you attempt to take the whole piece in one bite -- she offered way too much at once for a single bite, but you never back down from a challenge. 

Lisa subconsciously grips the tablecloth a little tighter when she sees her put a finger to your lips, preventing the food from spilling out and making a mess everywhere. You giggle and chew it up, eventually managing to swallow it without getting choked. Your fingers wrap around the customer's wrist, gently pulling her hand away from your lips as you rub her tender skin. 

The woman in front of Lisa sighs, clearly wanting attention. 

"Sorry, what were you saying?" She shakes her head, willing her envy to go away so she can flirt some more. 

"I was asking if you have plans tonight. You're probably tired from working, so I figured I could treat you to some R&R." Her tone drops lower than normal, and a suggestive look shines in her eyes as she gives Lisa another once-over. 

"Hmm, sounds like just what the doctor ordered," she leans in a bit closer, egging the girl on. They don't call Lisa a playgirl for nothing. 

"Your place or mine?" She whispers into her ear, sounding desperate to get the chef alone. 

"M-"

Lisa's response is abruptly cut off by the sound of a muffled noise of surprise from you, and she looks across the table again to find the other customer's lips pressed against yours. Your shoulders relax after a second as you return the gesture, but you eventually pull away to put some distance between the two of you. 

Fuming, now too jealous to think straight, Lisa unceremoniously stands from her seat and steps around the table to you. The fact that she was just a few minutes away from taking her customer home and doing much more than kissing is lost on her -- seeing you in such a position with the other woman sparked something in her. 

"If you'll excuse us, my colleague and I have to get going." She announces to the women, gripping your arm to pull you up from your chair. Her hold is firm, and the way her fingertips dig into your forearm sends a chill down your spine. 

"Don't wait up." She adds, dragging you behind herself as she slams the kitchen door open. She's much more bold now that the head chef has left for the night -- clearly she pays little mind to being loud or rough. 

"What the hell, Lisa?" You bite back, attempting to shake free of her grip. 

She only tightens it, saying, "Quiet, L/N."

After stepping out into the deserted hallway and ensuring that the coast is clear, Lisa opens the door to one of the utility closets and pushes you inside. You stumble a bit, feeling the unforgiving edge of one of the metal racks dig into your back as you collide with it. 

"What is your problem?" You hiss, spurred on by the stinging sensation radiating across your back. 

"You," she says, turning around to lock the door behind herself. Your brows furrow, but she's quick to explain.

"Out there kissing that customer, letting her put her hands all over you… it's pathetic." 

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief. "Pathetic? Look at yourself, for Christ's sake; two minutes later and you would've been screwing that girl in the back of an Uber." 

She tuts at you, stalking closer. "Don't go telling lies now, Y/N/N. You know I would've taken her home on my motorcycle and then got her in bed."

You groan at her cockiness; it exudes from her in waves, irking you to no end. Sometimes you wonder if she was made to annoy you. 

"Whatever, Lisa. I'm leaving," you shoulder check her on the way to the door, but she's quick to react. Before you can move to unlock it, she has your back up against the door and her hands on your hips, keeping you pinned there. Her lips are on yours in a flash, urgently working against them in a show of how eager she is for you. 

You worked her up out there more than you realized, and she couldn't take it anymore. 

You mumble against her mouth in shock, taking a second to decide what to do with your hands. Should you push her away, or pull her impossibly closer? The choice is made for you when she parts your legs with her thigh, sliding it between them and pulling your hips forward so that you brush against it. 

A groan slips out of your mouth at the new sensation, though it's muffled against her lips. She smirks, letting go of your hips to reach around behind you and untie the apron that's secured around your waist. She praises you as you rut against her leg again, sliding her tongue across your bottom lip to ask for entrance as the material falls to the floor with a quiet noise of impact. 

Her fingertips undo the buttons of your top with haste, and she helps you slide it off your arms. It remains pooled at your waist, still tucked into your pants. 

"Tell me if you want me to stop," she whispers against your lips before pecking them one more time, leaving a trail of kisses down your jawline and towards your collarbone. 

Asking for consent is sexy as hell; especially coming from the goddess in front of you. 

You curtly nod, bringing your hands up to her back. Your nails drag along the material of her uniform, encouraging her. 

"Not so vocal now, are we?" Lisa teases, tilting your head back to grant herself more access to the sensitive skin of your neck. 

"I can walk out this door right now, you know?" You say more than ask, the syllables mixing with moans as she leaves yet another darkening love bite on you. 

"We both know that isn't true," she chuckles lowly, making you weak in the knees. You'll be damned to let go of your pride, though. 

Gathering up all of the self control you possess, you shove her away and pull your shirt back over your arms, beginning to redo the buttons. You suppress the smirk begging to make itself visible when you notice the smug expression on her face fall. Smoothing the material out, you run a hand through your hair and readjust it before unlocking and opening the door. 

The second your left foot makes it through the threshold, she's wrapping her arms around you and tugging you back in. A wave of relief washes over you at that -- you were praying she'd do exactly what she did. You hadn't imagined yourself making it down the hall, and you're not sure if you would've had the self restraint to do so.

"How the hell are you so stubborn?" She asks, letting you take over now. You drag over one of the folding chairs you spotted earlier, commanding her to sit in it with a mere glance. 

"Letting you win isn't an option, Lis. Somebody has to wipe that stupid grin off your face and put you in your place; it might as well be me." 

"How selfless," she holds her hand over her heart, face shining with mock proudness. "I'm touched." 

"Shut up already," you laugh, straddling her waist as you sit on her lap. Her hands instinctively go to your thighs, running up and down them to get you going. She can feel your warmth through the material of your pants, and the feeling is intoxicating. 

You cup her jaw and pull her closer, kissing her at a slower pace now. This one isn't as rough; it holds a whole different type of sensuality, and the occasional roll of her hips lets you know it's doing something to her, too. 

"I've wanted this for so long," she says in between kisses, gently undoing the fasteners on your jeans. 

"Really?" 

"Really." She confirms, untucking your shirt now and running her hands up your back. The cold air of the room slides under the material, ghosting over your newly exposed skin to make goosebumps appear.

"I'm surprised I held out this long," she admits, remembering all of the times she's had to stop herself from making her feelings known. 

You kiss her again before leaning back on her thighs and taking your coat and shirt off, left only in your bra. The lacey material begs to be touched, and Lisa traces the intricate patterns with her fingertips after receiving a nod from you. 

"Jesus," you moan, feeling her other hand palm your ass as she keeps you steady on her lap. 

"So beautiful," she sighs, admiring the way your cheeks have gotten flushed and how your chest rises and falls at a quicker pace now. Her hand guides the movements of your hips, and she can feel her own arousal spread to her thighs at the sight of you. 

"Who's capable of doing this to you? Making you such a needy mess?" She asks, clearly wanting an ego boost, and she squeezes your breast a little harder when you take longer than she likes to answer. 

"Y-you, Lisa." 

"That's right, baby." She kisses you again, a silent action of approval. Your movements stutter as she moves her hand to the inside of your thigh, slipping past the material of your open jeans. 

"Stop teasing already," you huff, resting your forehead against hers as you reach down to lead her hand closer to where you need her most. 

"Fine, but under one condition," she quickly caves in, sliding the thin material of your panties to the side in order to appease you. 

"Shit," you both say at the same time. In any other circumstance, you probably would've laughed at something like that, but now the atmosphere is entirely different. 

Your slick coats her fingers, and she moans at the feeling of what she's done to you.

"What's your condition?" You husk out, pressing your hand to the door behind her to give yourself better leverage to rock against her. 

"Come home with me after. I don't want to stop anytime soon." She kisses your jaw as she waits on your answer, feeling her warm breath fan out across your already heated skin. 

"Deal. Now come here."

She meets you halfway, angling her head up to capture your lips in a searing kiss as she increases the intensity of her ministrations. The sound of the chair's legs squeaking against the floor with every combined roll of your bodies makes you smile, and soon the room is filled with filthy noises of pleasure from the both of you.

The Next Morning

The sound of your phone ringing abruptly pulls you from your dream, making you blindly reach for it. Not daring to expose your eyes to the harsh morning sunlight that's pushing its way past the curtains, you stretch your arm out until your fingers brush against the smooth surface of your screen. 

You shield your eyes as you check the caller ID, only to nearly have a heart attack when you read it. 

"Good morning, sir. I'm sorry for making you wait so long." You apologize, cringing at the fact that you almost missed a call from your manager. It was probably only one or two rings away from going unanswered. 

"That's alright, Y/N," he says, sounding generous. He must be having a good day. "I'm calling to ask if you can come in. I have something I'd like to discuss with you." 

Your heart drops at that, irrationally thinking he must've somehow caught you and Lisa at the restaurant last night without you knowing, but you try to remain calm. 

"O-of course, sir. I'll be there in 30 minutes." You respond, already throwing the cover off yourself and moving to stand. 

"Thank you, Y/N. See you soon." 

He ends the call, and you try to decipher his tone. It was level and calm, holding no quality to tell you if he was angry or happy. You sigh, hoping it's nothing bad. 

You stand up and stretch the remaining tension from your body, attempting to work out the kinks Lisa made in your muscles during your tiring night together. It was everything you'd ever hoped for, and your inability to walk properly is a testament to that. 

You find a note waiting for you on the countertop in her bathroom, complete with a lipstick stain kissed onto it. You smile, picking it up. 

Morning, beautiful 

I had to leave early to take care of some business, but there's some toast waiting for you in the kitchen. It's all I had time to make. 

Help yourself to anything else you want in there.

Xoxo, Lis

In an attempt to rid yourself of the annoyingly giddy feeling warming your heart, you take your clothes -- more specifically, the pajamas that Lisa gifted you -- off and step into the shower. The steam doesn't take long to fill the room, fogging up every surface in sight. 

You look down at yourself, watching as suds trek their random paths down to your legs, and you see just how many marks Lisa really left. Your inner thighs are covered, as are your hips, neck, and abdomen, all painted in beautiful shades and designs. She was an animal, and you lived for every second of it. 

Now that you think of it, though, you'll have to dedicate a good chunk of time to covering them up with makeup before you go to the restaurant. You vow to kill her if she makes you late. 

At The Restaurant 

Releasing one last, steadying breath, you knock on the door to your boss's office.

"Come in," he says, sounding pleasant. 

When you walk in and find Lisa sitting in one of the chairs in front of his desk, you do a double take at her. She sports the same confused expression, but you hide your surprise and shut the door behind yourself before sitting in the seat beside her. 

"Right," he starts, linking his fingers together authoritatively as he nods. "Now that you're both here, I'd like to discuss the latest promotion available." 

Is he really going to make one of you watch while he hands the position to the other? That'll be torture -- especially if you lose. Having Lisa win like that would surely only make her teasing worse. 

"You know we need strong leadership here, and I see those qualities in both of you. I'm willing to offer you both the position of sous chef, if you can agree to work together and continue keeping your standards high. If you get too busy bickering with one another, I'll be forced to choose. You're both talented, so don't make me do that."

Lisa looks over at you, and you smile, completely taken aback. To say you're surprised is an understatement. 

"Thank you, sir." You say, snapping back to reality as you extend a hand for him to shake. 

He smiles back, looking proudly between the two of you. 

"You're welcome." 

He shakes your hand before giving the same treatment to Lisa, making her look like an excited teenager with the way her cheeks pull back in a wide grin. After talking a bit longer and working out a few specifics, the two of you leave, allowing him to attend a phone conference in peace. 

"Eee!" Lisa squeals the second you're out the door, picking you up in her arms to spin you around. You laugh at her sudden outburst, happy to have another sweet moment like this and break the tension that always seems to be swirling around the two of you. 

"I'm gonna kick your ass during service tonight," she says, smirking evilly as she sets you back down. 

"You wish. I'll wipe the floor with you." 

"Oo, kinky. I think that's the only thing we didn't try last night," she teases, tapping her chin as if she's actually thinking about it, causing you to roll your eyes and blush. 

"Shut up, Manoban. I'm sore as hell today, and I still haven't forgiven you yet." 

"Aww, does my girl need some TLC? I can help you with that, you know." 

You try not to think too far into the titles she's been giving you, but that one stands out for some reason. She likely doesn't mean anything deeper by it, but it doesn't stop you from pretending. 

You're tired of the knowing look she's sending you, so you decide to do something about it.

Sneaking a glance around the two of you, you push her against the hallway wall and kiss her. You thread your fingers through her hair, pulling on the strands to give yourself more access to her mouth, just as you did last night. She enjoyed it then, and you're hoping she likes it just as much right now. Clearly, your plan works; as you pull away from her, you're rewarded with a view of her dilated pupils, blown wide as her arousal comes back without warning. 

"That's cruel," she pouts, knowing full well you have no intention of finishing what you started. 

"Think of it as retribution." You cheerily nod, ignoring the heat pooling in your stomach at the way she's eyeing you. 

"See you tonight!" You blow her a kiss before walking away, hearing her frustrated sigh bounce off the walls.

Dinner Service

"Risotto to the pass, please!" You shout, practically begging for the line cook that you're now overseeing to do his job properly. 

"I'm a minute out, chef." 

You shake your head, but choose to ignore his incompetence for the time being. You're keeping things running smoothly, but they can easily be stalled by people like him. 

You focus on plating the entrées of another table while you wait for him to finish, and Lisa slides over the side dish that you need to add. "Thank you," you say, totally in the zone. 

"Welcome," she responds, equally as focused as you. It's definitely a quality that you admire about her; she's playful and fun, but she's serious in the kitchen. You'd clash and this whole arrangement would fail if she were any other way.

"Risotto approaching, chef." 

"Finally," you clap, ready to approve of it and send it out. Thankfully it's cooked well, and the line chef is saved from your wrath -- at least for now. 

"Service!" 

Two waiters step forward following your call, and they load the large trays into their arms before heading to the dining room. 

You get back to work on the next set of orders, reading the new tickets off to your cooks and listening for their confirmation of hearing you. 

"Try this, Y/N. I think it's missing something." Lisa says, grabbing a plastic spoon to allow you to taste test the soup waiting to be sent out. She brings the utensil up to your lips and throws it away once you gather up the liquid. 

"Basil. Tell Amanda it needs basil." 

Lisa nods, listening to you for once without question. She barks the orders out to the young chef, and the girl fires off a couple apologies as she brings the missing ingredient over. 

"Thank you, Amanda. Get back to work, I know you can do it," you encourage her, not wanting to crush her spirits too badly in the first week of her job. She's a newbie, and you remember being in her shoes once. 

Pierre, your host and main waiter, approaches the side of the pass that borders the dining room. You raise an eyebrow at his sudden presence, wordlessly asking what he needs as you stir some pasta in the pot in front of you, twisting it around your tongs to plate it. 

"We have a guest requesting to see Lisa." 

Confusion flashes across your face for a moment, but then it sinks in. Your eyes land on the woman from last night, finding her standing near the front door with her arms crossed and a smirk on her lips. She waves to Lisa in greeting, and you bite your tongue to stop yourself from saying something out of line. 

You can feel Lisa's gaze trail over to you, but you don't look up. 

"Tell her I'll be there in a minute." She orders Pierre, quickly thanking him as he heads off to do as she asked. 

She wants to say something to you, but she doesn't know exactly what. Her feelings are still jumbled from last night, and she's not too entirely certain on where you stand with one another. 

--

You subconsciously hold your breath as she approaches the girl, getting pulled in for a tight hug as if she's known her for years. Was that the "business" she had to take care of this morning? Who knows. 

They continue their conversation for a few minutes, and you distract yourself by focusing on pumping more food out. 

"Good job, team. Keep it up," you praise them, happy to see everyone working well together. They thank you for the encouragement, and promise to keep their momentum going. 

A few minutes later, as things begin to get a little hectic, you sneak a glance up at Lisa. She locks eyes with you, as if on cue. 

You can see her trying to politely leave, but the woman puts a hand on her forearm, stepping forward to flirtily whisper something in her ear. She eventually manages to get her to back away, and she points at the door. The customer glares at you over Lisa's shoulder, leaving you confused but delighted. Seeing her unhappy is a treat in and of itself. 

As Lisa turns around and starts to walk back to the kitchen, you quickly jump back into action, narrowly avoiding getting caught staring. Lisa has a sneaking suspicion that that's exactly what you were doing, but she doesn't speak on it as she rounds the corner of the pass. 

"Well?" You nonchalantly ask, glancing at her in your peripheral. Your hands arrange a new set of plates on the tray between you, and her fingers brush against yours as she adds a side salad to it. 

"She wanted to finish what she started last night." She informs, pausing before she finishes telling you what happened in order to build suspense and torture you some more. 

"I said no, of course," she assures you, smiling when she notices you sigh in relief. "I've got my eye on someone else now." 

"Yeah?" You ask, turning to look at her with a soft smile. Her change in demeanor makes your heart flutter. 

"Yeah. Amanda's looking pretty good, isn't she?"

"Hey!" You shout, a little too loud for your own good, making Lisa laugh. You apologize to the guests and staff before punching Lisa in the arm, ready to get revenge later. 

"Kidding, babe. You think I'd let you go after last night?" She cocks her head to the side, sounding genuinely confused that you could think such a thing. "Not a chance," she smiles, leaning to the side to kiss your cheek and bump your hip with her own. 

Who would've thought you could end up here with her?

[blackacre13]

You’re writing is amazing <3 can you do one where Lou and Debbie are having a huge argument and Lou shouts at Debbie a lot and Debbie gets scared and cries and Lou apologies and comforts her <3

Thank you so much! This one was admittedly tough for me to write and spiraled into something unexpected, but here we are. Hope you enjoy the angst:

They used to fight. A lot.

Debbie hid things from Lou. Lou hid things from Debbie. It was easier to pretend they were on the same page and everything was status quo. And it was fine when it was little white lies peppered in, nothing major trapped below the surface that had the power to stir trouble up and send it boiling over. It was to protect each other. To protect their relationship. At least that’s what they told themselves.

And then there had been the fight to end all fights. The fight that left Debbie standing in the doorway in shock before she fell to her knees letting out one last feral scream. The last noise she would make out loud for two weeks before she finally picked up a phone call from Tammy. The fight that made Lou finally brush her hands against each other and declare she was done, not even believing her own body as her legs carried her away, down the street. The last time she’d be seen by another soul for three months until she got the news about Debbie in prison.

It had been beyond ugly and toxic. It was a war of their own creation, individual battles and fights that had been bogged down for so long, fighting their way to the front lines and propelling themselves into bullet as one partner shot at the other, their words not even resonating, just the hoarsest of screaming and begging and crying until there was nothing. No Lou. No Debbie. Just one great broken mess.

They used to fight. A lot. And that’s why at first, when Debbie got out of prison, they didn’t talk much at any volume at all. It was all business. All plans. All crime.

When it came to downtime between just the two of them, they both were afraid that the simplest of stories or sentences could snowball into some volatile flurry of reaction, a fight of over five years brewing and gaining strength, waiting to make its way onto the scene. And so they avoided words completely for a while. Though had they talked, they both would have realized that neither wanted to fight unless they had absolutely no other choice. They never wanted it to come to this ever again or anywhere near it. It had ruined them both.

But instead, they walked on eggshells and the first little crack shattered like an earthquake as Debbie broke Lou’s trust with Claude.

And Lou begged her to the point of tears to never do that to her again. Asking her if she had learned their lesson the hard way. Asking if she had any hope for them to be an us ever again. And from the distrust, the trust between them had started to repair itself and bloom beyond where it ever had before.

But sooner or later, Debbie tripped up. It’s what she always did and no one hated her more than she hated herself in the instant it happened.

She wasn’t used to being part of a team. One half of a partnership. She was used to fighting for herself and fending for scraps to salvage into something substantial so she could shine on her own.

And she’d taken the plunge for another job. Alone. Without telling Lou. And now things were about to go sideways. Her parole on the line.

She expected icy. She expected disappointment. She expected Lou to tsk and shake her head and let out a long sigh asking Debbie to please tell her she was joking, that she couldn’t be serious. But she didn’t expect to be back frozen in their old apartment in her mind as her now wife screamed at her until Debbie couldn’t see her form at all, her eyes too blurry with tears and her chest racing. She felt herself stagger backwards, dizzy from the volume and words alone that cut deeper than a knife.

It wasn’t disappointment. It was outrage.

Debbie was in trouble. Debbie put herself at risk. She put Lou at risk. But worst of all, she hadn’t let Lou in the loop. Hadn’t been transparent. Lou would have shut it down before it spiraled out of control.

Debbie’s ears were ringing and Lou’s yells were growing muffled as she blinked in confusion, suddenly feeling lost and sick and stuck, not sure if she could move or say anything back. She deserved this even if she didn’t want to.

And then all of a sudden, Lou was crumpled on the floor and Debbie was screaming like she had those years ago. But it wasn’t frustration with herself or the situation or even Lou’s reaction. She was panicking like she never had before. She’d done this. Whatever this was.

“You look like shit, Ocean,” Lou whispered, blinking at Debbie under the bright white lights of the room as Debbie gasped, barreling towards the bed to take her hand in hers, making sure to be wary of the IV sticking out of her hand.

“I should,” Debbie breathed. “I was worried shitless about my wife.”

“I’m okay,” Lou smiled weakly.

Debbie tried to squeeze her hand lightly, but Lou was pulling her in tightly, cradling her awkwardly against her chest as she gripped her tight, tears starting to come to her eyes.

“I’m sorry, Deb,” the blonde cried, her lips muffled against Debbie’s hair, the heart monitor spiking behind them. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I didn’t want to. I just—“

“It’s been bubbling up for thirty years?” Debbie suggested with a nervous smile as she pulled back some, taking the Australian’s hands in hers.

“I still don’t think you should have done it,” Lou pointed out. “And I don’t know why the Fuck you didn’t tell me. But that’s still no excuse.”

“I should have told you,” Debbie sighed, shaking her head at herself. “I can’t even understand why I didn’t. But it’s beside the point right now. All that matters right this second is you, baby.”

“I don’t think you understand how sorry I am, honey,” Lou sniffed. “God, I hate who I became back there. I don’t even know who that was. It certainly wasn’t me. It wasn’t the woman you love.”

“I don’t want to yell anymore,” Debbie murmured. “Neither of us. Ever again. It nearly killed you.”

“What’s a heart attack,” Lou shrugged, trying to wink at her.

Debbie had to resist the urge to smack her wife.

“A costly lesson for us both,” Debbie shuddered, biting her lip as she looked at Lou with concern. “I’ll never hide anything from you ever again, Lou. Just promise me. Please. No matter how mad you ever are, you have to protect yourself. Your heart.”

“Can I whisper scream?”

“We’ll see.”

“I’m not losing you, Debbie,” Lou promised, gripping her hand tight. “I’m not letting forever go that easily.”

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @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 @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @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 @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

[snelbz]

A Battlefield’s Miracle {Nessian}

A/N: This story is based post ACOSF. It will 100% contain spoilers for A Court of Silver Flames. Do not read forward if you have not finished the book yet! Written, as always, with @tacmc.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way. There couldn’t have been a worse time or inopportune moment for a miracle.

When war did indeed break out with the remaining fae realms, ready to take up whatever lands were weaker their own, Nesta was one of the first to step up, much to Cassian’s utter dismay and terror.

And his disgustingly overwhelming pride.

She’d been making strides with the female Illyrians, thanks to re-emergence of the Valkyrie ranks. She, Gwyn and Emerie were infamous for their success in the Blood Rite, Nesta more so even if she wasn’t labeled a true Carynthian. Her stand at the Pass of Enalius was regarded as something straight from the legends, something rivaling Enalius’ stand itself.

Most of the women couldn’t fly, thanks to the archaic clipping of their wings, but thanks to their innate sense of battle, having grown up seeing their fathers, brothers, and cousins train, they were naturals. 

They were the Valkyrie reborn, a swift, deadly legion of foot soldiers, who could kill just as well as any airborne soldier.

At Nesta’s request, Rhys and Cassian allowed them to protect the mortal lands from the incoming storm of battle. A small Illyrian legion was with them, but not to oversee or protect them. They were backup, only joining the fight if the majority of the Valkyrie were to fall.

It had been nearly three months of near daily battles when they received word of an incoming assault, larger than one they’d seen yet. To battle with as few soldiers as they had would be suicide. The full power of the Illyrian Legion would be arriving any day to ensure the protection of the mortal lands, and the continued strength of the Valkyrie. Feyre had winnowed into the camp to tell her, but Nesta could only focus on one piece of information as her sister hurriedly informed her of the plan, and of the onslaught they’d soon be facing: her mate would be here within the hour, the remainder of the Night Court’s aerial forces only a day or so behind.

It had been months since she’d seen him, though they checked in on each other regularly through the bond, mentally checking the other for injuries after a harsh battle. The mating bond was a sensual, tangible thing, something Nesta was increasingly thankful for the longer she stayed away from her mate and husband.

She felt a shift in the camp the second his feet touched down in the frozen lands, turning and rushing from the war tent she’d taken as her base of operations, leaving Feyre in the middle of a sentence, but not caring that she was ignoring her High Lady.

She found him as quickly as he found her, meeting in a small clearing, filled with tents. She was sure there were others around, whether Valkyrie or Illyrian, watching their reunion. Nesta needed him, in every sense of the word, but after she threw her arms around him she found herself pulling back to look him over. She was terrified there was something she had missed after his last battle, and it seemed he was doing the same.

“You’re okay,” she breathed, gazing up into his handsome face.

He nodded, leaning down to rest his forehead against hers. “So are you.”

Neither of them were asking a question, just needing the confirmation.

They disappeared soon after, falling into the nearest tent to make their overwhelming feelings known to one another. The emotions that escaped them in the following half hour only prepared them for battle more.

A battle that they faced together.

Just over a month later, once Cassian had left and Nesta was leading her sisters into yet another battle, the first wave of nausea came.

She powered through, ignoring the roiling in her stomach, chalking it up to nerves as she cut through the line of fae soldiers.

But it happened again, day after day. And eventually, leaning over a bucket as she emptied the contents of her stomach, she couldn’t ignore the truth anymore.

Nesta was pregnant.

She hadn’t even realized Gwyn and Emerie had entered her tent, having heard her getting sick. Her head was cradled in her hands and she cursed herself for being so reckless. All those months apart from Cassian, she’d quit taking her contraceptive tonic. There was no reason to, and it only slowed her down on the battlefield. But a quick and hasty joining, as perfect as it had been, was all it had taken.

“Nesta?”

Her head snapped up, finding her sisters, not by blood, but by bond, watching her. It was Emerie who had spoken her name, but Gwyn’s teal eyes had gone wide. She could scent it. Somehow, over the smell of bile in the bucket before her and the blood soaked battlefield, Gwyn had immediately sensed the change in Nesta’s scent and body.

“You’re pregnant,” she breathed and Emerie’s eyes widened as she too caught the scent.

Nesta wasn’t sure what to say, terrified to confirm or deny the life growing inside her.

A message was sent to Velaris and within minutes, Feyre and Madja had winnowed into the camps.

It took the healer less than a few minutes to confirm the small life within her.

“You’re coming back to Velaris,” Feyre said, as Madja washed her hands and went to tend to the badly wounded from the previous battle.

“No,” Nesta protested, donning her leathers, as she did every day. “I’m leading my sisters.”

“Gwen and Emerie can take the lead,” Feyre protested. “They are just as skilled and know what they’re doing-.”

“I can’t just leave them-.”

“You’re pregnant!” Feyre yelled, and the look of pure panic on her youngest sister’s face had Nesta stopping in her tracks. The High Lady of the Night Court’s voice turned into a broken whisper as she begged, “Please, think this through.”

Nesta’s jaw hardened as she lifted her chin, doing everything she could to keep herself from shaking her head. “Do you expect Cassian to come back to Velaris? To sit idly while our troops battle to protect Prythian?”

“I expect him to do his duty,” Feyre said, her tone firm. “Just as I expect you to do yours.”

Her words were clear.

Nesta’s duty - not as a soldier, but as a mother. 

She shook her head, her eyes remaining on her sister’s. “He’ll miss it.”

It. Everything. All of it. Her pregnancy, the child growing inside of her, possibly even the birth of their child.

The gut-wrenching thought was overwhelming. 

Nesta fell back against the bed, sitting and letting her head fall into her hands, her nerves shot. She needed to talk to Cassian, needed to sort it out.

“Nesta.”

Her eyes shot to Feyre’s, the eyes identical to her own. Except her youngest sister’s eyes held fear. Fear for her safety, the safety of her unborn niece or nephew. 

With a sigh, Nesta let her eyes fall shut and nodded. She dragged a hand down her face, and said, “I need to meet with Gwyn and Em. I need to plan with them, figure out how to rework the front line-.”

“They can handle it.”

The voice came from behind her and she turned to find Azriel stepping through the tent.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she took in her friend, one of the warriors who had trained her into who she was today.

“They had the same training you did,” he said, coming to stand next to her sister. “I’ll stay here for a couple weeks, but you can’t stay. It’s not safe for you. Or for the baby.”

Nesta lifted a brow. 

Azriel shrugged, crossing his arms. “If you think I’m letting you stay here during this-.”

“Since when do you order me around, Shadowsinger?” Nesta asked, meaning it as a joke, but finding it hard to dismiss the tension from her tone. 

Azriel could tell.

He could always tell. His eyes softened, although his frame remained rigid. “As soon as Cassian arrives, I’ll winnow him to you.”

We’re in the middle of a gods-damned war! Nesta wanted to scream. And yet, she was conflicted. She knew what she had to do, knew what this new duty entailed, knew what her next step would be, even if she didn’t fully like the idea.

She never backed down from battle, from war, from anything.

But she would not endanger her child, no matter how guilty it made her feel.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta nodded and reached her hand out towards her sister. Before Feyre took her hand, she looked at Azriel, unable to stop the tear that had finally slid down her cheek. “Tell them I’m sorry,” she breathed.

His smile was gentle, but even she had a hard time believing him as he said, “You have no reason to be.”

With that she was winnowed away, back to Velaris, as far from the small camp on the mortal lands as she could be. Far from her soul-bonded sisters, and fellow warriors. Far from the raging battles she’d grown to know as a part of her.

As soon as Cassian touched down in the ramshackle camp, he knew something wasn’t right. None of the Valkyrie would look at him and the bond… It was near silent.

He hurried for her tent, not even remembering what the summons he’d received had said, not that he’d read it all too carefully. He’d been asked to get to the mortal realm as fast as he could and after leaving his tent, he found the first Fae he knew that could winnow.

It had only been minutes since that small note had appeared from Rhysand, and he burst into the tent and found not his mate, but his brother.

“What the fuck is going on, Az?”

His voice held none of the joking tone it usually did when he spoke with the shadowsinger, but-.

He could scent her, she’d been here only a few moments before. But something was…off.

Words barely audible, a deathly quiet, terrified whisper, he breathed, “Where is Nesta?”

Without a word, Azriel held out his scarred hand.

Cassian took it and then they were tumbling through space and time and he had no idea where they were going to end up.

Where was Nesta? Where was his mate?

When they appeared in the atrium of the river house, Cassian looked around. “I don’t understand.”

“Your mate is waiting for you,” Azriel replied, gesturing towards their room, and it was then Cassian noted the hint of a smile on his face.

And like that, he was gone, disappearing into shadows and mist as if he hadn’t even been standing before him.

The house was quiet and Cassian took the stairs two at a time, hurrying down the long hallway until he approached their closed bedroom door.

He debated on knocking, not sure what he’d find on the other side, but with a shaking hand, he turned the knob and stepped inside.

Nesta was inside the attached bathroom, wearing the pants of her leathers, though the intricate jacket was draped across the end of the bed. She wore a thin, white shirt, which showed off her toned arms. He couldn’t see any discernible wounds on her, but was still hesitant as he took a step into the bathroom.

She’d been so lost in her own thoughts that she hadn’t heard him come in, but suddenly, he appeared in the mirror behind her, and the force of her emotions hit her all at once.

She was in his arms instantly, breathing in his scent with an eagerness she hadn’t felt since their last encounter. Neither of them said a word as their clothes hit the floor, but the second Cassian’s lips met her neck, all of his, his primal instincts faded and he swept back into reality the moment he found himself focusing on her scent.

The change in it.

His chest heaved as he pulled back and met her tearful gaze. 

“How long have you known?” he asked, quietly. 

She shook her head, slowly. The soft chuckle was involuntary. “Not even an hour.”

“That’s why you’re here,” he said, quietly.

It wasn’t a question, but Nesta nodded, even as she ignored the urge to roll her eyes. “High Lady’s orders.”

Lifting her up in his arms, he carried her to the bed, his carnal instincts long forgotten, and he laid down next to her. Cassian’s hand hovered over her stomach, a small, barely discernible bump there, hardly able to believe what was in front of him.

“The battle against Rask’s forces,” he said, voice quiet. “You hadn’t been taking your tonic?”

Sniffling, she shook her head and gently pressed his hand the rest of the way to her skin, to her belly. “It hadn’t been on my mind,” she admitted.

Cassian was quiet for a moment before he huffed a laugh, his fingers moving in a slow, clockwise rotation over her abdomen. “A baby.”

Nesta nodded, watching him. “It’s not a good time.”

“Is there ever a good time?” Cassian muttered, looking up at her. “The reality of our world doesn’t grant us much peace.” 

“Is it even fair to bring a child into this world?” Nesta whispered.

Cassian’s eyes softened, although they held no judgement. “I thought you wanted children.”

“I did,” she said, then followed it quickly with, “I do. It’s just… We’re in the middle of war, Cass.” 

“War will end,” he promised, his eyes growing soft. “Soon.”

She closed her eyes, gently pressing her forehead against his, and the two of them laid there, quietly basking in the happiness of the little miracle they’d created. Of the child they would soon bring into this world.

Cassian couldn’t stay long, only able to stay the night and have breakfast with his family. Azriel was still monitoring the front at the mortal lands, but the rest of his family was there. There was no shield to be put up to mask Nesta’s scent, so the second Elain walked into the vast dining room and found her eldest sister, she froze. And as soon as she scented the change, she was in motion. Her arms were around Nesta in a flash, the sound coming from her reminiscent of a mix of a sob and laugh.

But as soon as breakfast had been cleared away, after Nyx had woken from his nap, Rhysand and Cassian stepped out into the lush yard. With a final surge of love and pride down the bond, they vanished into the air, back to the Illyrian front.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Breathe.”

Nesta shot her youngest sister and High Lady a look of pure hatred. Feyre only rolled her eyes and held her sister’s hand a little bit tighter. 

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing?” Nesta hissed, although her entire body was rigid and clenched. 

Labor was no joke. Nesta had watched her mother birth two more children after her, and even though she was too young to remember, she never forgot the horrid screams that came from her mother’s bedroom.

Nuala, Cerridwen, and Elain all hovered around the bed, keeping Nesta as comfortable as possible until Madja arrived.

And until her mate arrived.

Since she’d found out, it had been the longest nine months of her life, only seeing Cassian in small moments when he could leave the bloodshed of battle. Once it was apparent her water had broken, Rhys had winnowed to the location he’d known Cassian’s camp had been last, only to find it hastily packed and abandoned. The sounds of battle weren’t far off, but Rhys could sense the death without moving closer.

He’d tried to mentally reach Cassian, but found his shields were locked in place, as he often did during a bloody battle. Azriel, however, was by his side in an instant. “What is it?”

He could smell the blood of both mortal men and the fae on his brother, not daring to look into his mind to see who all he’d had to cut down in battle. “Nesta’s in labor.”

A sharp swallow was the only reaction Azriel allowed his High Lord to see. He said, “He won’t leave the battle, you know that.”

He would, Rhys thought, if he used his power, his title of High Lord to command him. But he would never do that, especially asking him to abandon his post during a battle. Rhys only nodded. “I know. Just… As soon as it dies down, as soon as he comes back to himself, get him to Velaris.”

Azriel nodded, his orders received,  and he was gone, a misting, swirling shadow folding back into the fray.

It was hours before the violence subsided, hours before Cassian finally removed his helmet, surveying the carnage and death that surrounded him. He felt Azriel’s presence, rather than saw him appear, and turned to his brother, expecting a report of who all had been lost.

The look on his face told him otherwise.

“What.”

He still wasn’t fully back to himself yet, though he tried. He still wore the mask of the Commander, the male who had slaughtered so many, to protect his people, Enalius reborn.

Azriel’s words were quiet, but urgent. “It’s time.”

Cassian blinked, not understanding what his brother was saying.

And then he dropped his shields and everything from the other end of the bond slammed into him with a force so strong her face physically staggered back a step.

Labor.

Nesta was in labor.

His child was about to enter the world and he’d been so lost in his battle lust that he’d blocked her out.

“How long?” He asked, eyes going wide.

Azriel shook his head. “I’m not sure. At least four hours.”

Swallowing hard, Cassian looked around at the death and destruction around him. He looked down at the blood and gore that coated his hands and his leathers. He couldn’t abandon his troops after a battle, but his mate…

His child…

There was no question.

Azriel extended his hand and Cassian took it, and a second later, there was nothing but shadows left behind.

*****************

“Nesta, you’re going to have to start pushing,” Elain said, gently, brushing the loose, sweaty strands of hair off of Nesta’s forehead.

“No,” she gritted out, her teeth clenched together. “I can’t. Not until-.” Another wave of blinding pain passed through her and the scream that tore from her was pure agony. Once she could think again, speak again, she breathed, “Not until Cassian is here.”

“That’s not in your control, I’m afraid,” Madja chimed in from the foot of the bed. “Baby will come when baby comes, and baby is ready.”

“Not unless I say so,” Nesta spat, just before another scream flew from her throat. “Fuck!”

“Baby’s coming,” Madja said, remaining perfectly calm as she put herself into position. With Nesta’s hand in Elain’s, and her other in Feyre’s, she had no choice but to push. 

Madja was right.

Baby wasn’t waiting.

There was a thundering on the stairs, and heavy footsteps approached the door before it flew open.

A sob tore from Nesta as Cassian appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide, taking in the scene before him.

“Nes,” he breathed, taking a few steps towards her, but Feyre stepped in front of him.

“You can’t be in here,” she said, firmly.

His eyes narrowed. “Like hell, I can’t.”

“The High Lady is correct,” Madja chimed in, turning back to glance at him. “You are…covered in filth, and Lady Nesta cannot chance an infection.”

“He’s my mate,” she breathed, panting slightly from the pain, the urge to push.

“He’s covered in blood, Nesta,” Feyre said, turning back to look at her.

“We do not have time to wait for him to bathe and return,” Madja said, looking under the blanket draped across Nesta’s lap, to provide what modesty she could. “The baby is ready, my lady. It’s time.”

A firm hand wrapped around Cassian’s arm and began to tug him towards the door. He turned to find Rhysand when he was out in the hall and the door was shut on a phantom wind.

It was only a few seconds before he heard a sob and a yell full of anguish and suffering.

The sound made him want to vomit.

“Bath is ready,” Rhysand said, his hand still around Cassian’s arm. “Bathe, go back. Until then, she’s in good hands.”

“I’m missing it,” Cassian breathed, but before he could form a cohesive thought, he was being shoved into a tub full of warm water. 

Nuala and Cerridwen had stripped him down and were scrubbing his skin raw in a matter of seconds. Cassian couldn’t focus, though, could hardly feel as they cleansed the blood and gore and carnage from his skin. 

All he could focus on was Nesta’s screaming from upstairs. 

Cassian helped them scrub his massive frame, and between the three of them they washed the remains of battle from the Commander until the lukewarm bath water turned pink from the blood of his enemies and his fallen comrades. 

As soon as he was clean, the wraiths vanished, allowing him to dry off and redress himself, a tunic and pants left on the counter of the bathroom. Every scream from his wife had him flinching, every cry and overwhelming wave of pain reaching him down the bond now that his shields had been fully dropped.

But suddenly, the screams stopped. Suddenly, love and adoration was all he could feel from Nesta, and he threw open the door and was hurrying up the stairs again, his bare feet padding against the carpet.

The door was slightly open, cracked just a hair, and he could hear quiet murmuring from inside. Hesitantly, he reached out and pushed the door open.

He froze, his body growing completely still as he took in the sight before him. Nesta laid in the bed, her chest heaving, silent tears streaming down her cheeks. Elain and Feyre were both smiling, crying themselves, as they looked to the foot of the bed, where Madja was holding the smallest of babes.

A baby.

Nesta’s baby.

His baby.

The gentlest of cries filled the silence. 

Madja chuckled, softly, as she cut the umbilical cord and laid the baby on the softest of towels to clean her up.

Her.

He had a daughter.

“Cass?”

Cassian’s eyes drifted to Nesta and his vision blurred.

He didn’t consciously tell his body to move, didn’t remember asking his feet to carry him across the room, but before he knew it, he was kneeling by the bed, pressing his forehead against hers.

“You did so good, sweetheart,” he whispered, the tears already streaming down his cheeks. “You did so, so good.”

“Lord Cassian.”

He pressed a kiss to Nesta’s forehead, but moved back, allowing Madja to lay the small bundle in Nesta’s arms. Her tiny wings were loosely tucked inside the blanket she was wrapped in.

Nesta’s eyes filled with tears again as she looked down at the precious baby in her arms. “She’s beautiful.”

Silently, Nesta’s sisters and the healer left them alone, to spend a few moments last as a family.

The tiny baby began to fuss and Nesta softly brushed a finger along her cheek, gently shushing her.

She calmed immediately.

“She looks like you,” Cassian whispered, staring at his daughter in awe. “Has your nose. Your lips.”

“Your skin,” Nesta breathed. “And that unruly, curly hair of yours.” 

Cassian huffed a laugh. True enough, little tufts of dark curls covered her head. “She’s perfect.” 

Nesta didn’t reply. She simply swept her thumb over their daughter’s soft cheek. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” Cassian said, at last. “I… I’m sorry I missed it, that I wasn’t here for you.”

“You’re here now,” she murmured, looking up at him. “You’re here and that’s all that matters.”

With a soft smile, Cassian wiped a wayward tear from her cheek and pressed his lips to hers.

Beaming up at him, Nesta whispered, “Hold her.”

He froze up a little, only having held Nyx a handful times when he was a baby. Babies were fragile and he was…

Well, there was a reason both Nesta and Amren had always called him a brute.

“It’s okay,” Nesta breathed, sensing his hesitation.

He nodded and sat down on the bed next to her. She transferred the tiny bundle to him and her eyes opened almost as soon as she settled in his arms.

Eyes like the storm gazed up at him and Cassian had never felt so much love in his heart.

He swallowed roughly, brushing a gentle thumb across her cheek. He looked up at Nesta. “Have you thought of a name?”

She smiled, fondly, softly. “Brenna.”

“Brenna,” Cassian repeated. “I like Brenna.” 

“I’ve been holding onto that name for a while,” Nesta said, quietly.

Cassian chuckled. “I can tell. There was no hesitation.”

Nesta smiled as her head fell against Cassian’s shoulder. She looked down at her daughter. “Brenna felt right.” 

After pressing a kiss to the top of Nesta’s head, Cassian gazed down at their daughter. “She’s… she’s perfect.”

“She is,” Nesta replied, a gentle yawn breaking through her words.

Cassian scooted closer on the bed, careful not to jostle their daughter who had settled back into a deep sleep of her own. He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s shoulders, and she wrapped herself around him as best she could.

In that moment, Cassian couldn’t imagine anything else mattering in this world. No lands, no wars, no hidden troves beneath the sea. In his arms, his wife and his daughter, were the most precious treasures he had ever received.