#dances and daggers chapter 3

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 3: The Wish

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Word Count: 3,726

Chapter Summary:  Dinner with the royal family is... about what Teki expected.

Thanks for reading! :)

TW: mentions of child abuse, cursing

Tags: @lucywrites02​ @gaitwae

Read it on Ao3!

Her first night as part of the royal family found Teki with trembling palms and a gurgling stomach, fighting to maintain the appearance of composure. Her family didn’t seem to notice her anxiety—in fact, her mother seemed to be having the time of her life before they even left for dinner.

“See?” she beamed at Osvald as she spun Teki around in her new red dress. “It’s finally happening! She’s finally getting the recognition she deserves!”

Osvald studied her with a glittering gaze. Teki was careful to keep her own eyes glued to the floorboards. At some point in the last week, although he hadn’t said when, her stepfather had finally caved to the pain and visited the healers. Her mother had sighed in relief at this news, but Teki had to clasp her hands behind her back to stop them from shaking.

“How wonderful,” he said, smiling. He reached out to stroke a bit of loose hair that her mother hadn’t braided into her bun. His hands were cold on her cheek. “Then I’m certain everyone will be on their best behavior tonight, won’t we?”

Teki nodded. “Yes, sir.”

She was still trembling as she made her way to the royal tables in the feast hall. Stepping on to the raised platform didn’t help. Sure, the feast hall wasn’t nearly as large as the Great Hall, which was used only for festivals and celebrations, but everything seems bigger when you’re standing above it. Hundreds of pairs of eyes held her in their scrutiny. Teki thought she would be sick.

Her seat was at Thor’s right. Unsurprising—he was her fiancé after all, and he always sat at King Odin’s right. But this arrangement also put her at the end of the table, so that her only possible partner for conversation was the Crown Prince. Was that intentional as well?

If it was a ploy to get Thor and her to talk more, it didn’t work. The prince spent most of the dinner in raucous discussion with his father, as if completely ignorant of Teki’s presence at his elbow. They were very loud. Thor’s shouts rumbled the table and pierced Teki’s skull in a way that made the nausea even worse. She spent dinner trying to choke down a slice of bread.

It was weird, thinking about how she was going to marry Thor someday. She knew he was her elder only by a few years but… he seemed so much older. He was so tall, so muscular, with a voice that carried across the hall even when he wasn’t yelling. Just sitting next to him made Teki feel unbearably small. Only a few years between them, but he was already a man, and she still felt like a little girl.

At first, when people started getting up to dance, she feared that Thor would ask her as his partner. There was no way Teki would be able to turn down an offer from the prince, but she was barely holding herself together as it was. However, it seemed her worries were unwarranted. Thor got up without so much as a word to her and nearly flew to Lady Sif’s table amongst the nobles. Had she been feeling a bit better, Teki would have been concerned that Osvald had seen it, but all she felt in the moment was relief.

I’m going to be such a horrible Queen.

It seemed that the night had gone on forever. Everyone was shouting, laughing, dancing, having the absolute time of their life, while Teki only sank lower into her chair. When she sat with her mother, they could leave any time they wanted to. Nobody paid her any mind—she could slip out easily and no one noticed the difference. But here, she was on display for everyone. Here, everyone saw everything she did. It wasn’t fair. Her eyes burned. She didn’t want this. She didn’t want any of this.

Teki jumped when someone plopped themselves down in Thor’s seat, but it wasn’t her fiancé. Loki grinned at her with his sparkling emerald eyes.

“So, Lady Teki, how do you like looking down upon the masses,” he smirked.

Teki forced a smile. “I-I think it’s something I’ll have to get used to, my prince.” Her voice was pathetically small, and she cursed herself.

But Loki was kind enough not comment on her pitifulness. “Oh, I understand,” he agreed. “I imagine this setup is quite jarring.” Leaning in, he lowered his voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I still get dizzy up here sometimes.”

Teki exhaled a quiet giggle. She was fairly certain he was only trying to cheer her up, but the thought that the prince got as sick to his stomach as she felt somehow made her feel like less of a failure. “Your secret is safe with me, my prince.”

“I knew I could trust you.” He laughed softly, motioning towards the tables below them. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but your brother has been trying to get your attention all night long.”

She frowned. “What?” Following his finger, her gaze landed on Brant, who was sitting the wrong way in his chair, frantically waving. When he saw her looking, he jumped and waved even harder. Teki laughed as she returned the wave.

“Has he really been doing that all night?” she asked. She couldn’t imagine that Osvald and her mother would be pleased with him making such a scene, but it seemed her mother was busy conversing with the ladies around her and Osvald was nowhere to be seen.

“I noticed him shortly after the meal began,” Loki chuckled. “He hasn’t stopped since then.”

“Oh Brant.” Teki wondered who cut his meat for him. She couldn’t imagine Osvald doing it. She couldn’t really imagine her mother doing it, either.

The two of them sat on the platform for a while, talking about nothing in particular. Loki carried most of the conversation, telling her the most hilarious stories about his classes—spells that ricocheted off the golden doorframe, potions that overflowed and contaminated the whole room, pranks that he played on the teachers to show off his talent. Some of them were so ridiculous that Teki found herself wondering if he was making them up to make her laugh, but she didn’t question him.

“There’s one woman, Lady Alda,” he was saying, gesturing animatedly as he told the story. “Horrible old hag—she’s the type who gets upset if you read ahead. She believes if she hasn’t taught it yet, then you’re not allowed to know it. I didn’t like that very much, so I read ahead to the transformation section. She had acted as if transformation is the most difficult skill you’ll ever learn, but it’s actually quite easy. So, I taught myself how to do it, and in the middle of class I turned her desk into a dead rat.”

“Loki!” Teki laughed incredulously.

“That’s not the best part! She turns to me and starts demanding that I undo it, shouting so loudly the walls shook The vein was popping out of her forehead, her hair was wild—I swear, she looked like a troll. And I looked her right in the eye and said ‘But Lady Alda, you haven’t taught us transformation yet!’”

Teki was somewhere between enthralled and horrified. “What did she do?”

Loki shrugged. “She told my father. That’s all they ever do. They’re afraid to try anything else.”

She pictured Odin, with his untamed beard and deafening shout. “What did your father do?”

“Oh, he got mad,” Loki said nonchalantly, flicking a crumb off his sleeve. “Yelled at me for my ‘unprincely conduct.’ Nothing serious.”

“Nothing serious,” Teki echoed softly. She wondered what Osvald would do if one of her teachers told him she had been acting out in class. The thought terrified her.

Loki had gone very quiet. Gently, he reached out to touch her wrist. “I—I meant to ask,” he cleared his throat. “Everything’s all right, right? I mean, with your family. Everything’s all right?”

Teki burned. “Yes, yes, of course,” she said quickly, her voice jumping an octave higher. “Everything’s fine. Nothing wrong at all.”

“That’s good.” His gaze had grown far more concerned, but there was relief mixed in with the green of his eyes. “That’s good. I’m glad to hear it. I just—I wanted to make sure—”

She nodded furiously. “I understand.”

Loki looked as if he was going to say something else, but Thor was rushing up the steps of the platform, shouting his name.

“Loki!” He grabbed at his brother’s shoulders, still seemingly oblivious to Teki’s presence. “Come! Volstagg and I are trying an experiment, we need your help—”

The younger prince squirmed out of Thor’s grasp. “Now?”

“Yes, now!” He tried pulling Loki to his feet. “We need an illusionist!”

“I—” he was able to shoot one apologetic glance to Teki before Thor had completely pulled him out of his seat. “Let go of me already! I’m coming.”

Teki studied her fingernails in her lap as the two princes clattered back down the steps. She suddenly felt very lonely.

…

“Can you read that one to me now?”

Brant cocked his head, brow furrowed at the line of writing. He and Teki were on her bedroom floor, pages spread around them covered in Teki’s careful lettering. They had been there all morning—Teki patiently helping him through longer words and sentences. Maybe it was just her, but she thought her little brother was making some definite improvement.

“Tah—Tah—”

Teki shook her head. “Remember what we said about the t and the h?” she asked, pointing at the paper. “What sound do they make when they’re together?”

Brant’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Thhh!” he hissed excitedly, spittle flying all over the page. Teki snickered.

“So what does it say?”

“Thhh—the. The!” he grinned. “The wi—the wis—”

The slamming of the door cut him off abruptly. Voices echoed from downstairs, ricocheting off the walls. They both tensed.

“You sit there and give me nothing and then you expect me to listen to you when you’re going on about your—”

“Oh, I don’t expect you to listen to me, Áslaug. You never fucking listen to me—”

“Stop yelling! You’re always fucking yelling!”

“You think this is yelling? I’ll show you yelling—”

Brant whimpered as the sound of something shattering against the wall rattled the air. Teki inhaled.

“Come, get your shoes on,” she whispered, slowly pulling him to his feet. If they were quiet enough, Osvald and her mother might not even realize they were home. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Teki had learned long ago to appreciate the ivy outside her bedroom window. Her mother would beat her herself if she knew how often her daughter climbed down the side of the apartment, dress fluttering above her ankles, but it was a risk worth taking. The vines were strong, and they led directly into the royal gardens—the perfect escape.

She went first, guiding Brant down behind her. He wasn’t nearly as agile as she was, but he knew where the right footholds were, and he knew better than to cry out if he slipped. They reached the ground in silence, the cacophony of battle still reverberating behind them.

It was a warm day. Teki pulled Brant through the grass and on to the garden paths. There were only a few hours until dinner—hopefully things would have calmed down by then. Her parents’ arguments usually flamed out fairly quickly. Osvald’s temper had a tendency to linger, however, and Teki knew better than to risk crossing his path while he was angry.

Maybe sitting with the royal family isn’t so bad after all.

Ahead of them, the courtyard was alive with shouts. There was a crowd gathered, chanting and cheering and jumping up and down.

“What’s going on over there?” Brant whispered.

Teki would have preferred to avoid the commotion, but she let her brother pull her towards the pack. They were watching a fight, it seemed—two figures were going at it in the middle of a hastily drawn ring, rushing at each other with giant sticks.

Oh. Teki winced. They must have been practicing for the Games. It was the only time she ever saw those kinds of weighted staffs in use. The Games were an end-of-summer tradition, where all the worthy men of the court would show off their prowess as a warrior and might as a man by jumping into an arena and defeating their opponent in a series of different duels. It wasn’t as much an exercise in strength as it was a display of brutality—usually, the loser was carried out of the arena a bloody mess. Teki spent those days with her head buried in her hands, only occasionally peeking through her fingers when it seemed safe to look.

It was a moment before she recognized Thor, shirtless as he wielded his staff, sparring with another blond she didn’t know. His partner was panting like a dog, but Thor looked as if he hadn’t broken a sweat. Blow by blow, he beat his opponent back in the ring, pushing, pummeling, dominating… until the boy fell backwards, holding his hands up in surrender.

Thor laughed, slamming his staff on the ground. “Is that truly your best effort, Fandral?” he asked as he extended a hand. “I’ve seen some of my mother’s ladies put up a better fight than that!” The crowd snickered with him.

Thor and Osvald would get along well.

She wasn’t sure where the thought came from, but it sunk in like a stone in her stomach. Teki swallowed the lump in her throat.

“Come on, Brant,” she mumbled, pulling at his arm. “Let’s—”

“Hah!”

Teki shrieked at the sudden presence behind her. She flipped around just in time to smack into Prince Loki’s leather chest. He laughed as he reached out to steady her.

For a moment, all she could hear was her pulse pounding in her eardrums. “My prince,” she said shakily, forgetting to curtsey. “You scared me!”

“Many apologies my lady,” Loki grinned, looking anything but apologetic. “I suppose you were too engrossed in your betrothed’s performance to notice me approaching.”

“No, I—” she stuttered. Why did that statement make her feel guilty? “I was just taking my brother out for a stroll, my prince.” She pulled at Brant’s shoulder, who upon Loki’s appearance had taken shelter behind her legs. For some reason, it was critically important that Loki know she hadn’t come here just to watch Thor.

“Ahh.” The prince kneeled to smile at her brother. “And how do you do today, Lord Brant?”

Brant shrank further back behind her legs. “Good,” he mumbled.

Teki flushed with embarrassment, but Loki only laughed. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said. Behind them, Thor was challenging someone else to another sparring session.

“Don’t be a coward! What kind of warrior runs from a fight?”

Loki rolled his eyes. “Would you like to walk down to the lake?” he asked. “It’s much more peaceful there. Unless you’d prefer to stay for this madness.”

A crash shook the ground beneath their feet as Thor body slammed his next victim into the dirt. Teki cringed. “The lake sounds lovely, my prince.”

It was funny how easy it was to fall into conversation with Loki. They drifted from topic to topic almost lazily as they made their way across the grounds—how nice the weather had been, how strange it was that Teki was sitting with the royal family now, how overdramatic Thor could be about his training. When they reached their destination, Loki was telling her about his family’s upcoming trip to Alfheim.

“I’m really excited,” he said animatedly. “I’ve only gone once, and I was too young to properly remember much. Father usually takes only Thor when he travels.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Teki smiled. She smoothed out her skirt as they reclined on the grassy banks. There was the slightest breeze rippling through the water, sending tiny ripples to lap against the dirt. The effect was almost hypnotic. “Alfheim’s a beautiful planet.”

“Oh,” Loki looked up eagerly. “Have you been?”

“Oh, no—I—” Teki faltered. Not supposed to talk about this. “My father lived there for a while,” she finally said. “He used to tell me about it.”

She could almost hear him reminiscing in her head. Alfheim is where music lives, he used to say. It sleeps in the trees and dances through the air like a bird. Someday I’ll show you, Teki. Her eyes prickled with tears, but she blinked them away.

“That’s fascinating.” Loki leaned in closer, continuing hesitantly. “Was he—was your father Elvish?”

“Oh no, he was Asgardian. He just traveled around a lot.” She frowned, trying to retrieve the memory. “I think he lived in Vanaheim for a little bit too.”

Loki sighed. He dug his fingers into the grass, tearing at the delicate stalks. “I wish I lived in Vanaheim. That’s where all the most talented magicians study. My mother studied there, for a time.”

“Then why can’t you go?” she asked. She didn’t understand why he looked so forlorn—she couldn’t imagine any magic teacher would turn him down, considering how effortlessly he healed her rib during the Summer Festival.

“Father won’t let me!” he groaned, chucking his handful of grass into lake. “It’s beyond frustrating—I’m more than qualified, but he won’t have it. He says my place is on Asgard and that I shouldn’t be running across the Nine Realms just to chase a hobby.” With a huff, he leaned back against the embankment.

Teki didn’t know how to respond to that. “Well, maybe he’s just waiting until you’re older,” she supplied unhelpfully.

“Maybe.” But she could tell that he wasn’t convinced.

Brant, who had been silent up to this point, tugged on her sleeve.

“He can do magic?” he whispered in her ear. She giggled, squirming from his hot breath. Under any other circumstances, she’d be embarrassed by her brother’s lack of propriety, but for some reason, it didn’t feel out of line in this instance.

“Why don’t you ask him?” she whispered back.

Brant looked up at her with wide eyes, shrinking back behind her again. Teki nudged him gently towards Loki. He glanced back at her again before gulping in a deep breath.

“Can—can you do magic?” he asked, stumbling as he avoided eye contact with the prince.

Loki smiled. “I can, as a matter of fact. Would you like to see?”

Brant nodded shyly. Loki motioned him over, cupping her brother’s tiny hands together. “I want you to hold your hands like this very carefully,” he said, very seriously. “I’m going to give you the magic, but you can’t let go. Alright?” Brant nodded again, brow furrowed in concentration as he stared at his palms. Teki scooted over so she could have a better view of what was happening.

“Now, close your eyes and count to three,” he continued. Brant closed his eyes. “One, two, three!”

Teki gasped. Suddenly, her brother was holding what could only be described as liquid light. It gleamed in his palms, illuminating his face in a yellow glow and glistening in the reflection of his cornflower eyes. His face broke into a wide grin.

“Magic!” he breathed in awe.

Loki chuckled at their astonishment. “Blow on it,” he told Brant. “Go ahead.” Brant blew softly into his hands. The light rippled like water, lapping against his fingertips. He giggled.

“It tickles, Teki!” he whispered.

Teki was mesmerized. “What is that?”

“It’s just a light source. They use it a lot with younger students, because it’s not as difficult to control as fire.” Loki circled his hand once around Brant’s, a quick flick of the wrist. Slowly, the light drained into nothingness. “It was one of the first tricks my mother taught me.”

Brant was turning his hands over and over, as if he was surprised to find them unchanged. “Can you grant wishes?” he asked excitedly.

Both Loki and Teki snorted. “You mean like a Midgardian genie?” he laughed. “I suppose it depends. What wish would you like granted?”

“I wish I had wings!” he cried, leaning forward with a wide grin. “Can you give me wings?” Loki glanced at Teki quizzically. She frowned. Where was this coming from?

“What do you need wings for?” the prince asked.

“Because then I could fly, and sit really high up in the trees, and when I want to go somewhere I could just fly, and then when everything’s bad I can take Teki and fly away so we can live in the clouds until everything gets better again.” He inhaled. “So can you give me wings?”

Teki swallowed. She could feel Loki’s eyes on her, feel the pity in his gaze, and she couldn’t bring herself to meet it. “That wouldn’t work, Brant,” she said thickly. “Clouds are just mist. You can’t live on a cloud. You’d fall right through.”

“Oh.” Brant deflated, sitting back on his knees.

“I’ll look for a spell to give you wings, Brant,” Loki promised, voice soft. “And maybe I’ll find a cloud you can live on, too. There’s all sorts of strange things in the universe.”

Teki stood up. She couldn’t bear this anymore. “We should be getting back,” she said. “We need—we need to get ready for dinner.” Hopefully they’re not still throwing things. Brant stood up obediently, taking her hand.

Loki scrambled to his feet as well. “I can walk you back, if you like?”

“Oh, no—that’s—” Her heart ached at the way his face fell, but her blood ran cold at the idea of Osvald catching her running around with the wrong prince. “Thank you, my prince, but I don’t think that would be necessary.”

“Of course, of course.” Loki bowed slightly, his hands awkwardly fumbling with his sleeves. “Then… I’ll see you at dinner, I suppose?”

Teki forced a smile. “See you at dinner, my prince.”

They walked away, Brant still clutching her palm. Her brother had the right idea, she realized. She too wished they would grow wings and fly away to the clouds.

[silverflameataraxia]

I know E/riels like to claim that their ship was always meant to be endgame, but that just isn't true.

1. We know that while writing ACOWAR, SJM was planning Moriel as endgame, so the whole part with Az giving Elain Truth-Teller and her giving it back to him was just a cute scene, but nothing signifying they were a potential couple, let alone endgame.

2. We know that SJM began plotting out ACOSF while writing ACOWAR, which means she probably had already written down Gwyn's character's arrival, and I believe this is when she switched from Moriel to Gwynriel.

3. E/riel didn't take off as a ship until after ACOWAR, which is after SJM already had her endgame characters in mind for the spin-off trilogy.

4. Then we got ACOFAS, which does a lot of foreshadowing for the spin-off trilogy and what we found out about Elain is that she misses being human (she hasn't accepted her Fae life yet) and that she's still in love and missing Grayson.

5. And then we got this doozy:

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. "I don't want a mate. I don't want a male."

She wanted a human man.

So, you can't even make an argument that ACOFAS set up E/riel because Elain showed us two things: she wants to be human again and she wants Grayson back. She doesn't want Lucien and she doesn't want Az. Elain literally said that in the above quote.

6. Then we get to ACOSF. The only book where you can make an argument that E/riel is being set-up and planned as endgame, but even then we only got three scenes with Az and Elain. Not much for a supposed endgame couple, especially when Nessian was all over ACOWAR. And keep in mind, ACOSF is the same book which started Gwynriel - and Az and Gwyn had far more scenes together than Az and Elain. Gwyn had far more scenes than Elain, who was hardly even in the book.

7. Last but not least, Az's bonus chapter. We got Az's POV for the first time - still nothing from Elain's POV (we had both Nesta and Cassian's POV's before their shared book) - and found out that he had a sexual attraction to Elain. That's it. She obviously shared those feelings since it was clear she wanted his cock, but what did we learn about Elain in this part? Nothing. Still no character development . What did we learn about Az? Nothing new. All we found out about E/riel is that Az hasn't thought about a future with Elain. He hasn't thought about her beyond the fantasies he pleasures himself to (his words, not mine). In the Gwynriel part, we find out that Az sleeps with daggers and that he sings - we learned something new about Az because of Gwyn. We also find out that Az's shadows love Gwyn and like to dance when she's around, but that they are also calm around her. They don't skitter away from her breath, they dance with it. Az's bonus chapter ends with all the language used to describe mating bonds and engame relationships: musical connotations, something restless settled, something sparked in Az's chest, Az burying the image of Gwyn down deep where it glows quietly. And the bonus chapter ended with Az daydreaming and smiling at Gwyn's joy, not Elain's.

[quirklessidiot]

title : minazuki [3: an agreement between two devils] pairing : gojo satoru x f!y/n Genre: angst, arranged-marriage au, mystery/thriller, romance, mature, enemies-to-lovers-ish, and very slow burn (canon compliant-ish for ch-0 to the anime)

Summary:In which Y/N L/N is placed under a union she has no choice but to partake for the sake of her survival.

Warnings: mild dark themes, mentions of parricide, mild gore, anxiety, paranoia, very brief mention of child abuse, sleeping problems Notes: fluffy ass chapter dont let the title deceive you HAHAH i cant believe i finally get to write a cute scene between them. and i changed my update scheds to random twice a week updates since welp AHAHHA this isnt beta read as always (we all die like men here)

series masterlist || taglist closed ||

Chapter summary: It’s a charade of trust and a dance between two devils, just where was this going to lead?

When you were a child, you wondered what lied beyond the eyes of people and the ardor that they held. In a way, it had been a sort of game for you to try to wade through them. Your grandmother had mentioned once that if you couldn’t peruse the room well or read through people’s emotions, you would end up not only embarrassing yourself but putting yourself in a precarious position. 

It’s the same way with relationships.

If you didn’t know your place or read onto it properly, you might end up severing not only the connection but losing the person itself and in this world, connections and relationships were pieces that you needed to use to stay in the game. Life hadn’t been kind to you but it didn’t mean that you needed to stop playing, it only meant that you had to keep building and building and shoving yourself back in it until it was sick of you because the essential need of surviving was constant.

Gojo Satoru had been nothing but a paradox as the months passed in your marriage, always acting on impulse and whatever he deemed fit. The relationship you had with him was never on the bright side. There was a constant push and pull between you two and you had to admit that your husband wasn’t the type of man you could get along with easily yet you don’t deny how indispensable he is to your plan. 

He could bear forth poison in the guise of a gift, for at the end of the day, like you, he’s human. He could parade like some sort of higher being who thinks he is better than everyone else but temptations and betrayal always come hand in hand. He could easily gamble his life but at the same time easily shield himself from your dagger. Humans are tricky. They’re mostly foul, disgusting, and revolting to the point where you’d want to recoil only in disgust. You sometimes wonder if god exists and if they’re merciful enough to take you away from all this or if they’re staying in hiding because of fear of their very own creations that don’t dance to the tune of their music.

Then again, would god ever grant mercy to a devious and villainous person like you?

The thought of it burns itself to the core of your subconscious. It sears itself in your way of life to the point that you can’t even trust the man who sleeps right across your room.

How you ended up agreeing with the said man you barely trusted was a mystery itself.

You don’t deny how much it favored you but you weren’t one to easily be swayed by such things, in fact, Gojo Satoru hadn’t really done anything to win over your trust except for repeatedly insinuating that you could go crazy and he’ll handle the consequences. He was an idiosyncratic man, indeed. 

Either ways, despite him proclaiming such weaknesses and even letting you touch where you were supposed to cut him if he ever went back on your deal. You were still chary of him and you wondered how things were going to proceed at this point. Obviously there was supposed to be some underlying trust that should be involved in this matter, after all, it was a wager between both of your lives and knowing each other’s weakness.

A big part of you had felt like you needed to prepare something, anything. It’s not like you to sit around idly and let someone else do all the work. This was a new scenario on your part, one that you didn’t even consider in the first place. You could almost hear your grandmother castigating you for being too overconfident and careless. As she said, if you’re going to do something at the expense of your life, do it properly.

Your empty gaze stares at the dead trees and flowers outside of your window, the cold continuing to nip your skin despite being indoors and wearing a hanten as the winter season draws to a close.

“He told you where to kill him…” you look down at your hands as you recall the dreams that taunted you last night, “...Maybe you should…”

You might need to go grab some more of those lavender and vanilla essence, they’ve always helped lull you to a dreamless state. You weren’t crazy or desperate enough to kill your husband. He hadn’t done anything to warrant that violent response from you and you didn’t want to end up dead too since you had a feeling that Gojo Satoru wasn’t going to be merciful towards you if he ever found you with one of your sharp hair pins in hand, ready to commit parricide.

You slowly lift your hand, grabbing one of the red spider lilies in the vase and crushing it in your hand, the petals slowly falling out and the juice leaking from it. A brief reminder of how fragile everything is right now, a life for a life.

Huh, you thought, deep in contemplation as you stare at the crumpled flowers on your hand, Trusting someone else with something as fragile as that. 

Satoru’s gaze lurks through the dark, the head of the curse on his bloody hand is heavy and sticky as he walks through the uncharted field. The only sounds were the crickets, the crunching of the leaves below his feet, and the never ending whistling of the night wind.

He tosses the head side with no care, another mission was done again today and quite easily so. There was a significant amount of cursed spirits spiking out because of the sudden reemergence of the fingers of Ryomen Sukuna, it seemed like they had to work fast for this, “Ah,” he mumbles, shaking his hand off to try to get rid of the blood, “I don’t think I packed a hankie for this.”

He looks down at his shirt, blood stained from the action that he had done earlier. Well, the maids would definitely have a hard time on this again. In a flash of an eye, he’s right in front of his home. It’s the dead of the night as he welcomes himself in the tranquility of his estate.

The events that had transpired these past few days were something else, from the agreement with the wager of both of your lives in tow    well, technically, you and your problem with the bridal market and his life    to him visiting the elder who had the guts to come into his home and do something as abhorrent as that.

The shaman recalls the defeated look of the elder as he kneels down, continuously begging Satoru to not be kicked out of the Gojo clan and be stripped of his title, explaining that you were just a commodity that needed to know her place and her job which was to bring an heir in. It only furthered his aggravation towards the system and the old man. An underlying threat of a death sentence followed soon after if he ever tried to show himself again in front of the both of you. This action that he had done did not go unnoticed because soon after, the remaining elders of the Clan found their feet tied and mouth clamped shut, in fear that they might meet the same end. It seemed like you were safe, for now.

Satoru’s footsteps are light on the floor, careful to not wake anyone up at this unholy hour. His bloody hands and clothes reek from the messy fight he had earlier, he should’ve been told that the curse would be a messy one. At the very least, he would’ve brought an extra shirt or something. 

He takes off his eye bandages as he makes his way to the kitchen, the blood that wasn’t his, staining it. This sudden action elicits a headache when his blue eyes are bare to the view, especially since he feels another presence behind the sliding door. A very familiar and faint one. He could only guess it was you. Like the little mouse that you are, your curse energy was too obscure for his six eyes to see, even harder with his bandages on. He wonders if you were that weak. The thought of that makes his jaw set; the empty eyes that seem to peerlessly lurk, the faint curse energy, he felt like something was amiss.

His grip on the sliding doors tightens, the blood is dried so it doesn’t stain as he slides it open.

Under the unobtrusive light, there you are, indulging yourself in a sweet daifuku and wearing your usual haori to cover the skin of your upper torso yet it's not enough to cover how your nightie rides up to reveal the small flesh of your upper thigh, the sudden action makes Satoru look away. Entirely he’s unsure of a lot of things with you. At the end of the day, he’s not celibate and to see you walking around in something that leaves little to his imagination seemed intrusive on his part.

It also sometimes baffles him that the only thing you knew of each other was your weaknesses. A part of him feels like this was the beginning of a Shakespearean tragedy or that one japanese stage drama called the tale of genji, both of which he fell asleep half-way through when they forced him to read it as a kid but he knows they both end in death.

He silently maneuvers his way to the sink to wash his bloody hands off while you remain there, eating your food, not even the slightest bit phased by his sanguinary appearance. The shaman runs his hands through his white hair after, trying to tame it down as he uses his other hand to grab a tupperware of sweets reserved for him.  

The chewiness and sweetness of the red bean settling on his palette as he eyes you for a brief moment, “It’s rude to stare.” you exposed, your gaze suddenly directed at him. At some point after that brief conversation you and your husband had settled upon, you realized how useless it would be to keep up the pretense so you don’t bother using the usual cloying tone. 

Satoru has also realized that despite whatever you both had agreed upon, it doesn’t exactly change the relationship between you two, in fact, he felt like it had only worsened. It was as if you both were dancing with knives painted on each other's back and if one of you had stopped, the other would be at the receiving end, “Just wondering why you’re out and about at this time of night.” 

Which wasn’t exactly a lie, so far, you two had met usually on the silent of the night. You, with your sleeping problems and your workaholic husband who barely seems to be around his own home.

“Just hungry.” you lied.

Yet judging by the faint bags underneath your eyes and the way you said it in an overconfident tone, he knows otherwise, “Or you can’t sleep?” he reckoned. The shaman realizes that he might as well poke around a bit. He’s reminded of a certain someone with your appearance and he can’t seem to look away this time.

“I thought we went past the stage of asking each other too many questions.” 

Your husband’s low chuckle resonates in the quietude of the kitchen, his gaze shifting from you to the dessert in hand as he relaxes and leans behind the counter. He starts to make out and try to piece out his thoughts about you awhile ago, looking even closer at your curse energy but it didn’t seem out of the ordinary which mildly bugs him even more, “You like lying too much over trivial things.” He specified in a smooth tone, “I just thought we were past that too.”

“Lying.” you thought out loud, gazing at him as you rested your head on top of your hand, carefully examining the curvature of his features and the way his lips pressed into a thin line,   “Now that’s a strong word, Gojo Satoru. I believe the words you're looking for is protecting my own self-interest.”

“Ah,” he nods, feigning acknowledgment as his blue eyes zeroes into yours, cupping his mouth to hide his cynical chuckle as he lowered his head, “Self-interest... only you would justify lying as something like that…You...you’re really something else.”

You continue to ignore him and his words, parading unbothered as usual. The room is tense yet again, the silence is deafening enough that you can hear a pin drop. The shaman puts his food down, then crosses his arms, tapping his finger on top of his skin, “You know,” he paused, “We can keep lying to each other,” He walks closer just until he’s right across you, the shaman leans down, the distance between you is close enough that you can hear each other’s slow breathing and heartbeat, “But at the end of the day, we both know each other’s play so it’s not really of use.”

Maybe it was the way he said that or the underlying vexation you have developed for the man these past few months, one that has piled up to the point where you wouldn’t hesitate to put him right back to his place, “We don’t know each other.” You point out, you remain calm as you stood up from your stool, not even breaking eye contact, “You and I are strangers and that’s all we’ll both ever be. So don’t say things like that as if you know me too well.”

Satoru has to take a step back and for what seemed like a while, you let out a small sigh as if you were, once again, tired of the repetitive words already. You don’t even wait for his response anymore nor do you even bother to say goodbye, you just walk out of the room, leaving him alone.

The shaman might, at some point, realize that maybe he should’ve tried to apologize first before deciding upon that agreement, maybe it wouldn’t be as bad as it was now if he tried to reach out earlier. The notion that he may or may not have been the cause of the sudden worsening of this relationship between you two because of the sudden integration of the agreement bugs him.

He looks up at the ceiling for a moment, his thoughts lingering at your choice of words and whether or not he should even be involved again. You weren’t exactly wrong but a part of him felt like he shouldn’t be sitting back idly anymore with what was going on with you. 

Maybe he should turn away, it’s not really his business, right?

Perhaps, in your part, you should’ve known better, after that brief conversation you had with your husband last night Hana had said that a doctor was outside your doorsteps, apparently to ‘check’ on you. The automatic response when you heard doctors was never a positive one and you were sure that your head was throbbing because not only were you getting less sleep but now you had to deal with this too. The lower part of your silk yukata was crumpled and mildly creased from your fists balling it too much during the whole journey down the door to greet them. Once your down, you’re ready to smooth out the creases and put on your rehearsed and pristine smile but instead of it being some strange old woman or an unfamiliar doctor, it’s Shoko Ieiri standing there, one hand on her hip while the other on her phone, “Hey Y/N.” She greets you casually, this time, she has a lollipop between her lips.

“Oh Sat-“ you’re mildly dumbfounded by the woman’s unannounced presence. The maid must’ve gotten it wrong and thought it was for you.

“I’m actually here for you.” She cuts you off, eyes twinkling with what seemed to be like levity,  “Someone called me up last night, saying that you have trouble sleeping.” Only one person was with you and now you feel befuddled, didn’t you try to tell him off the night before? Why would he ask his friend   a doctor who was on call, at that     to come by to visit you? 

The older woman eyes you for a moment, trying to descry what had been going on between the both of you and why the six-eyed shaman had decided to call her in the middle of the night with a small tip about how someone in his estate wasn’t getting the proper sleep she needed. She was clearly mad at first by the fuss but when she heard the mild exasperation in his tone, she knew she couldn’t turn away this one.

“He…” you paused, a line appearing between your brows, seemingly at a loss for words, “I’m alright…”

You didn’t exactly want to seem like it was bothering you but the brunette knows better, “Just so you know, he bought me a few packs and paid big money after so I can’t really turn this down.” She shrugged nonchalantly, “Plus a little check-up from a real doctor won’t hurt anyone, right?” You slowly trail behind her as she enters your home, mildly still disoriented by your husband's actions and what he was getting from all of this, why he continues to keep pushing his own agenda.

“Hey Y/N?” Ieiri snaps you out of your train of thought, you look up, blinking at her as she gives you a coy smile, your thoughts already in a disarray with your husband's unusual actions, “Try not to read into it a lot. Satoru has his moments but he means well.”

“Right.” You try to return the smile yet it doesn’t shake off the thoughts about him, about everything that has been going on between you two, and everything that’ll happen tomorrow or the day after that.

“We can keep lying to each other,” his words echoed in your head, like a brief reminder, “But at the end of the day, we both know each other’s play so it’s not really of use.”

When daybreak comes and spring shows itself in the form of pretty flowers, blooming Sakura trees, the smell of fresh dew in the mornings, and a continuous presence of Gojo Satoru that you seem to avoid after that incident and one that he didn’t heavily question either, the estate seems to finds itself at peace.

This doesn’t escape the servants' field of vision, they’re quick to catch signs of the sudden and overnight change between you and the Master of the house. It wasn’t obvious at first glance but they seem to notice how the usual heated and intense emotion you two would shed was now reduced to nothing. This starts a small hearsay between them, of how you were apparently pregnant or better yet, the master had fallen in love with you and you refused to be caught on to it.

One that you didn’t bother to correct but instead used to your advantage because if this would reach the spies ears at the very least, it would leave you alone for now and would lessen the plight around you. 

You run your hands through your hair as you slowly sit up, rubbing your sore shoulders after, the only sound that could be heard was the soft blows of the wind outside and the chirping birds that usually greet you on this fine day. Shoko had advised you to continue using the lavender essence but she said that if worse came to worst, you had to start using prescribed pills.

You’ve slowly come to accept your fate, that this would be how your nights really went, maybe it was a small price of being too selfish or something along the lines of that.

“Y/N-san,” you hear Hana’s voice behind the door, interrupting your long train of thoughts, “Gojo-sama is reminding you of the council meeting you both have to go to later at ten am.”

Your feet are outstretched on the bed as you slowly lean against the bed frame, trying to collect yourself, “Thank you. Tell him we can leave by nine.” You promptly replied, maintaining a polite tone to conceal your over-fatigue and chaotic thoughts.  Your line of vision slowly trails from the pretty red spider lilies to the neatly wrapped box on top of your dresser. A gift that you were supposed to give to your husband during his late birthday a year ago. You had almost forgotten about that since a lot had happened between you two. 

The sudden thought of giving it to him sparks an internal debate, maybe you could use this to your advantage. Maybe get the maids talking more to ward off the spy. Carefully, you slide out of the comforts of your duvet, snatching the haori that was hung on your dresser to wrap yourself around it, “Hana…” you suddenly call out again, taking the box and turning it from one side to the other and giving it a brief once-over.

“Y/N-san?”

You open the door, the young raven-haired girl standing there with her usual kind features. You chewed on your bottom lip, momentarily reflecting on what to say next, “Tell Satoru-sama that this is for him.” you nonchalantly handed the box to the young girl. Hana eyes the box given to her for a brief moment then looks at you then at the box again.

“Oh, is it your anniversary already?”

“No,” your eyes glinting as you look down at the box once again. The abrupt memory of your little shopping trip with Geto Suguru before he died and his choice of clothes slowly wormed its way back to your head. The brief impression of the wanted man who wanted to kidnap you and the connection he had with your husband to the sad night you had found him during the twenty-fourth last year makes your gaze harden as another notion comes in. Omitting your earlier plan for the gift, “It’s not from me but a friend.” you remarked. 

Hana’s eyes flickered to the box and towards you for a moment, quite dazed at the order you had given, “Ah,” she nods fervently, not wanting to disobey you, “I-I’ll be sure to say that, Y/N-san but um...” the young girl paused, very hesitant with her next few words, “But isn’t this actually from you?”

You raise your hand and give her a small dismissive wave, “It isn’t from me, so don’t bother.” you vaguely replied, closing the door right at her face soon after. The young girl looks down at the box again and gapes at it for a moment, confusion written all over her face as her brows are scrunched together. It seemed like the rumors between you and the master were true but only to some extent. She starts whistling and carefully holds onto it like precious cargo as she makes her way down to the dining area, wondering what she should say to the master of the house.

In times like this, you end up picking the prettiest kimono. Probably to show how well your husband is treating you and how you value him to high regard, you were, after all, precious commodity and only seen outside in public gatherings only a few times. After making sure you were well-dressed and you had your hair neatly away from your face with lavish hairpins, you find yourself walking to the doorway of your home. Your husband is standing there with his casual ensemble on   something you're sure many would frown upon since they had always forced him to wear a formal kimono on this    except this time, his tawdry bandages are now replaced by a hand-sewn black blindfold.

Geto Suguru was right, black did suit him.

After that minor event, Hana would occasionally glance your way but like the tractable and good girl that she is, she doesn’t further question what happened and why you had requested to have her deliver that gift under a false alias, she was even kind enough to keep her mouth zipped about it too.

Spring continuous on with Megumi visiting you on one of his off days from school and training. The boy is kind enough to help you since he’s fully aware of how much gardening you have to do because of the new season. He’s also conscious of the sudden gossip that’s been going around in the estate, he’s not exactly that insensible and out-of-touch, “Y/N-san?” he tried to address you, you hummed a response as you continue to snip some of the dead leaves in front of you.

It’s quite hot but it’s bearable and he sees how much you enjoy being under the cool shade with your plants. In the young boy’s eyes, he finds your hobby quite astonishing since you had much tolerance for things as delicate and fragile as this.

He has always thought that maybe that’s why you and his teacher didn’t seem to break it off with the marriage too quickly despite it being arranged and the fights being too heavy to the point where he has to unadroitly look away    unlike other couples that he has heard of      you were probably so patient with the said shaman unlike him.

The raven-haired boy is hesitant with his next few words, “Are you...” he paused, awkwardly looking down. You look up from the herb and tilt your head in reply at the boy’s sudden motion. He has to repeat it again with his head, making you scrunch your forehead in confusion.

“Megumi-kun...” you carefully place one of the trimmers down right next to you and clasp your hands together, “I am not a mind-reader. I’d like it if you’d use your words and not go...” you gesture your eyebrows up and down in attempt to copy the child.

He immediately bursts into redness at the way you copied his actions, the boy wasn’t sure with how to approach the topic itself. After all, when he had set foot in the estate this morning, he head heard from the maid at the front who was feather dusting and gossiping to the one next to her, of how nice it would be if their soon-to-be-born young master would be as helpful as him.

It could only really mean one thing.

Like he said, he’s not exactly that witless or so people call him. 

“Are you um...” His voice drops low to a whisper, like a child telling a secret that shouldn’t be known to many, “Pregnant?”

Silence enveloped you two for a moment, the only sound was the nearby sprinklers and the birds chirping all around you two. Your mouth twists into a small smile at the boy’s words and riotous behavior, “I didn’t think you’d be one to listen to gossip.” you humor him, whispering back in the same fervor.

He immediately turns even redder, fidgeting on the spot, “I-sorry, Y/N-san-”

Your mouth falls open to a small chuckle at the boy’s sudden uneasiness, at times, hanging out with Megumi reminded you of people you wished you had more time to be with. It was probably why you delighted his company whenever he accompanied you on random days, “It’s fine,” you remarked, a fond look gracing your features, “Don’t need to look so blue, Megumi-kun. I was simply teasing.”

“Sorry. I just heard from them...” he mumbles, starting to add more fertilizer to the soil in attempt to busy himself and cover up the embarrassment of even suddenly asking such a thing. You continue to look directly at him, seemingly still engrossed by his reaction and how easy he is to tease.

Your gaze shifts back down to the dainty pansies that started growing healthily during the winter, your eyes twinkling as you looked at how aesthetic and pleasing they look to the eyes.

“You know,” You paused, a sudden thought enters your head as you return your gaze back to him, “If we ever do have a child...” Although it may seemed like a fib and a far-fetched truth with you and Satoru, you don’t mind telling this one to the young child,  “I’ll be sure you’ll be the first to know.”

Megumi looks up, his eyes lightening up at your words, “After all, you’re like family to the both of us already. I’m sure the young Gojo won’t mind having you as a big brother.”

The young raven haired suddenly cracks a small smile, the timorous features from moments ago is replaced by a softer one, more befitting for his age as if he was elated by your words, “that...that sounds nice, Y/N-san.” 

It’s wonderful how a little white lie can shift the boy’s mood, probably would’ve been bad for your consciousness but it was a reaction that was worth it in your part. 

Your husband is rarely home despite the spring break.

You may see Satoru but on most days, he was at the institution and at work since he had received more jobs than ever with the reappearance of Sukuna Ryomen’s fingers. You, on the other hand, carried on with your quiet life. Aside from the grueling nightmares of the unknown and constant anxiety of protracted thoughts that Gojo Satoru may betray you one day.

You were fine, in fact, better than most days.

Most days.

Your eyes glaze over the text, fiddling with the pages as you reread the same paragraph over and over again like some fool and hard-headed buffon. You put one hand over your head and shut your eyes tight. Maybe you needed to get some rest, it was almost ten anyways.

Yet sleep doesn’t come easy again.

You find yourself stirring awake in the middle of the night, your breathing is heavy and your palms are shaking again as you try to recall what you dreamt about. Days on, it had constantly varied, some were of the night of your grandmother, others would be the dark forest that you were left upon to fend on as a child because apparently training needed to be done like that, some felt like it wasn’t your memories at all.

“You should remember, Y/N.” Your grandma’s words slowly sink in, it’s a fleeting memory, “You’re not only taking the technique from me. You’re taking the memory of the users before it. Some grow mad to the point where they try to murder the next user just to stay alive but it doesn’t work that way...it never does...”

You place your hands on top of your forehead as you lightly grip the strands of your hair, trying to sit upright on the side of your bed as you catch your breath. You try to get ahold of yourself, for you knew this was something only you could solve alone and crying wouldn’t do so much help in your current circumstances. By then, you start mumbling some curses while you were at it towards all your ancestors out there for not giving you even just a single bit of stillness in your god-ridden life. Hadn’t they done enough debauchery in their part already? The least they can do is stay dead along with their wretched and mortifying memories.

Maybe you should go back to training in secret, if it can help knock you out to the point of expelling you to a dreamless state, that would be good right?

The moon hung low on the sky and the stars shone bright as the cool wind slowly wafted in your room mixed with the lavender essence that you liked to light up to help you calm down and sleep well     something that seems to be inefficacious now. It’s a noiseless night as always around the Gojo estate, as if not a single soul had lived here, the only thing you could detect is the small curse energy of some of the servants and the cursed energy of your husband who was a few doors down, probably fast asleep.

You bring yourself out of the comforts of your bed and trudge your out, grabbing ahold of one of your hands, trying to make an attempt for it to stop shaking due to the sudden strong emotions you’ve undergone moments ago. One deep breath after another, you make your way to through the dark corridors of your own home, one that you’ve memorized like the back of your hand. 

You picture out the earlier things they made this afternoon, maybe you should have one of those things that the chef had prepared for dessert. They had always made good sweets here and didn’t stop you from eating whatever you wanted, an uncommon response on your part since you grew up in a very strict and controlled environment especially when it came to food portions. 

Sliding the door open, you silently padded through the kitchen, the cold floor under your bare feet served as a reminder that you were awake and that you were fine. That everything that had previously happened was simply just a dream. That this wasn’t some make-shift reality anymore. You’ve dealt with worse, what’s some bad-nights going to do to you?

This time, you grabbed two cold taiyakis, leftovers most likely. You don’t even bother heating them up and just start nibbling on one of it, relishing the sweetness of the custard filling.

You take a seat, your thoughts trail back to your dream, one that was probably not yours since the emotion was very unfamiliar yet it felt painful, like a sore and distant memory that only brought immense sorrow and grief in your part. This emits an audible breath of weariness. Everything was so baffling at this point. Your grandmother didn’t tell you anything past those warnings and little stories, she was too busy training you to the brink of death to even tell you anything about this situation. Questions upon questions pile up, did she even know why people like the both of you weren’t supposed to exist in the first place?

If she did, why didn’t she bother telling you?

“Ah, I’d reckon you’d be here.” 

You don’t even bother to look up from your meal since you’re not even surprised by your husband’s late night appearance in the kitchen for some snack. It seemed like the shaman wasn’t being theatric today with his bloody clothes. He was in his sleepwear, his black shirt clinging to him like some type of second skin, revealing the taut of his muscles along with his hair in a complete disarray as if he had just rolled out of bed like you. He doesn’t bother to get his own share tonight from the ref, instead, he takes a seat next to you and grabs the extra Taiyaki on your plate as if the last time you saw each other wasn’t an exchange of heated word discussions.

The sudden warmth of his presence next to you reels you back out of your depressing thoughts, he takes a bite, shoulders slumped as he relaxes next to you, “Shoko’s advice not working?” he questioned. He doesn’t bother asking what was your diagnosis or a thank you for the gesture, it seemed like he wanted to be unpretentious about it.

“I was hungry.”

He swallowed his food, not even bothering to turn off his filter this time,  “Right,” he nods, “I’ll take that as a no then.”

You continue on with your meal quietly, trying to ignore your husband and not wanting to engage in a conversation since your head is still buzzing from the events that had transpired earlier but the next few words catch you off guard and once again, pull you back right out, “We should go on a trip.” he suggested.

You turn to him, giving him a quick once-over at the sudden distance between you two and the proposal he had just said. He was closer than you had anticipated, his propped elbows touching yours as if he had just put off his infinity around him, a peculiar riposte since you didn’t believe he could trust you to this extent,  “A trip?”

“We haven’t gone on a honeymoon, right?” he takes another bite, “Where would you like to go for our anniversary, instead?”

Your mind turns blank at his phrase, a trip.

You’ve never been anywhere aside from kyoto, tokyo, and your estate growing up. It had always been a warning to stay away from places that they weren’t familiar with or far places that were too crowded because your safety would be in jeopardy. Despite this, it doesn’t exactly stop you from dreaming about certain places you wished to go to.

Growing up, you hated the bleak winters in Japan and the boring scenes of the city. You've always wanted to go somewhere sunny and bright all year round.  One where the flowers could grow and you could read books under the shade every single day yet despite this ever so long childhood dream, your mind instead, goes back to one place in the far off north of japan. It’s a faint memory as well but you’ve always been curious about that place.

“How about you?” your eyes are boring upon his blue ones yet you’re tempted to say otherwise, “I’m fine wherever you want to go.”

Maybe it was because you’ve been tired these days that you end up humoring him with a laid-back response. 

“I doubt it,” he implored, insisting that you be the one to decide. He’s well-aware of your circumstances. Satoru has been to and traveled to many places both for work and leisure. You, on the other hand, hadn’t been to many so he might as well take you out, with those familiar ghostly and tired features that he catches a glimpse of when he comes home, he knew you needed a change of pace and environment, “Go pick a place, Y/N.” 

You put your food down, drumming your fingers on the counter top in deep thought, maybe you both could go there since it was within the country,  “Anywhere, right?” you wavered, “Then can we go to Sendai?”

Satoru’s brows furrowed in confusion, Sendai? He wonders what made that place catch your eye, it was a small and quiet town and it was far off north of Tokyo. There wasn’t much to see there except small shrines, museums, and ruined houses of some old samurai’s, “You sure about Sendai?”

“I’ve always wanted to go there.” You honestly disclosed, your mind reeling in a distant memory, “They have a festival there apparently called the Tanabata…”

The shaman studies you for a moment, mild displeasure on his part because the festival won’t be held when you both visit Sendai since it was only celebrated during the seventh of July to August. Maybe he should take you there again after, if he isn’t so busy, probably the least he could do after realizing how messed up everything is, “Tanabata… they won’t be celebrating that until July… Do you want to go someplace else?”

“No,” you paused, “But if you’d like, we can go somewhe-”

“Sendai it is then.” he cuts you off, clearing his throat and ignoring what you were about to say, “Anything you want to do there?”

“I just…” your brows furrowed in wonder. Apart from the usual antagonistic and hostile attitude or the faux smiles that you’d usually present yourself with when you’re around him, Satoru sees something else, genuine uncertainty as if you had a muddle of thoughts in your head and you can’t seem to pick on what to say, it seemed like he rendered you speechless for the first time, “I just want to eat something there.”

It was a childish but very sincere reason, one Satoru couldn't bring himself to point out as a lie because it looked like anything but that,  “Food, huh?” he nods in acknowledgment. Well, it’s not exactly a bad reason. He has heard about the good cuisine up there,  “Let’s go to Sendai then, Y/N.”

The words are familiar, one said to you a long time ago but this time, unlike before, it seemed like you’d be going on that trip after all.

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[punemy-spotted]

The Price You Pay Chapter 7: Abeyance

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader; Senator!Andy Barber x Reader

Warnings: Rape/Non-Con elements, Dub-Con, Dark!Fic, Abuse of Legal System, Murder, Character Death (minor, possibly major), Love Triangle, Political AU, Mafia AU, Workplace Sexual Harassment, Abuse Mentions, Possessive/Obsessive Characters, Other Chapter-Specific Warnings May Apply, Possible Dead Dove: Would Not Eat

Chapter Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat; Angst-lite; Funerals; Mention of Dead Bodies; Alcohol Mention; Character Death; Drinking; Hell; Mention of Contract Killing;

Chapter Summary: Funerals are for the living, and your new life begins here.

Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6

Notes: The funeral arrives! Most of this chapter is Steve’s POV because as it turns out, I’m terrible. I hope it’s okay?

Thank you all for reading and commenting! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, even if you’re yelling at me.

Not beta-read, these sins belong to me and me alone.

All of my work is 18+ Only, Minors DO NOT INTERACT. I do not consent to my work being posted anywhere besides Tumblr or Ao3 and I post my work there myself. Do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content.

A pillar of the community has fallen, shattered remains laid to rest in pine and silk. Here come the mourners too, arrived to coat themselves in the dust that remains as they lament the broken, leaking roof he never held up with any sort of honesty. And as you enter the too-crowded funeral home, the sound of quiet weeping not enough to drown out the blood pounding in your ears, all you can think is, Embalmers do strange work.

You narrowly avoid the temptation to kick at the rubble, holding your curses behind clenched teeth and another ruby-lipped smile, the knife-dagger of your hate turned towards his soul and you pray for things like fire in lieu of grace, for screams in lieu of hymns, for pain in lieu of peace. Another link in your chains has crumbled, rust all that remains of that sallow, waxen face. There are no tears to shed for the man in the box and you don’t bother to pretend, not prone to hysterics like the wailing law clerk in the back-right of the room, clutching her swollen belly and crumpled into a heap in her boyfriend’s arms.

Not. Anymore.

There he goes, less than a plinth in the marble halls of your memory, left to rot as you approach that box where he lays seemingly asleep but you know.

You know the hateful breath he draws has ended. You know that the peace of his passing means the peace of your living.

It’s another kind of game, a dance, a ruse, an art the way you carefully sidestep the eyes of a widow you’ve never met before and the sons you remember being ten years younger. Men now, both of them, suspicious eyes and searching glances, as if seeking to remember where your razorblade smile and hate-cold eyes exist in their memory.

Andy Barber stands beside you as your guide and shield against the daggers of curiosity and concern, making quiet conversation as he keeps his hand secure to the small of your back. Steady.

Funerals are for the living, you recall someone telling you once, and though the dead remains in his place of dishonor, Andy comes alive as the seeming guest of honor. In some way you’re almost awed by it, catching glimpses of the truth in the twist of his smile and the choice of his words and yet watching how no one around him seems to notice. They see the way he moves the conversation forward, steers eyes away from you and the deceased, away from him and the trust. The practiced politician, burying his pain with… all the ease it requires.

You almost envy him.

You don’t have to do this, he told you in the car, your taxi ride on the way here a tense one as he tried to bring blood back to your clenched fists, knuckles pulsing at every stoplight.

I need to, you countered, not meeting his eyes, solicitous and warning all at once.

You told him.

You told him in the hotel room you stayed in, told him after it became impossible to ignore. That anxious pull at your center, wanting and fearing all at once, knowing what happens if you go and the uncertainty of if you don’t.

You didn’t tell him everything, of course. You know well enough not to do that.

You signed a death warrant. You bloodied your hands. You may not have killed him but you put him in the path of men who did and heart attacks are convenient half-truths for the living to pretend with. Yours is a rotten empire built on lies and fear and though truth bolsters all, the shattering of the veil between you and Andy Barber would bring it all down. You’re sure of it.

So you watch him instead, remembering the things you said, responding to his constant refrain, If he’s hurt you, Sunshine, just say the words, but he never directly asked who he was, did he?

So you made him the man in the box.

Not a lie.

An omission. He did. And he would again, if not for the ties that bound you to a different kind of cage.

You remember other things too. You remember the way he squeezed your hand, the way he pulled you close, the way he held you and you didn’t cry this time, but he shook. Shook with a fury you anticipated and a knowing you didn’t, let his jaw tighten until it pulsed with the force of every bitten-back word, every helpless moment, until his tongue finally managed to promise, I failed you once, I won’t again. Let me help you, Sunshine.

You don’t believe him. You won’t. You can’t.

You’ve been your savior this long, know only you can save yourself, but he is the next safe thing, the next harbor in the storm and you might as well let yourself rest for as long as you can before you start running again.

That doesn’t stop the tension now, in this moment, nor the coiling nervousness leaving sickly guilt in its wake, not exactly banished by a hard swallow or a ten-second count.

Are you alright? Andy Barber’s voice is low against your ear as he guides you to sit, honey-water on your senses, a cool breeze to ground you back and you nod. Alright. You’ll manage.

You always do.

You ruined his life, he justifies everything so well.

You ruined his life, and that feels like the final hammer, the chaff falling away as he immortalizes his hate in cement-grey floors and chain-linked cuffs.

You ruined his life, the only answer he can give when the sky opens its torrent and demands to know why.

Steve Rogers knocks back another glass of whiskey, well aware that he shouldn’t — it’s halfway to empty and he’s sure this particular bottle could mortgage a house — and tries not to pay attention to the gnaw at his gut, uncomfortable with guilt and the things it bears.

You came to him first.

You came to him first, you came to him and you asked him for help and you sank right into his arms like he swore you would the first time you faced him down — in that courtroom you turned into a battlefield, the space you staked your claim. How does he lose even when he wins, wins your submission, wins your body, wins your pleasure?

He doesn’t leave room for love.

Shit like love, well.

That’s the shit that gets him in trouble.

That’s the shit that makes him forget the terms of a contract, makes him start asking questions, makes him start wondering if he’s really got the right to demand your exclusive surrender, make you his to possess and pleasure, all in the name of business.

He knows the answer to all those questions too. That’s the problem. He knows, he knew, he will always know — he doesn’t. He doesn’t, he shouldn’t, he couldn’t, and he did it anyway.

Men like him ought to know better.

One more drink. One more drink and the burn in his throat is somewhere between comfort and penance while he watches the city below, standing in the darkened space of your office, empty of you. Outside the sky rumbles black and grey, paints the city in a dull iron and concrete and he’s almost glad for it.

Almost.

The door to his your office opens and there’s a moment, a flash, a hope that it might be you walking in on heels so sharp he’s occasionally surprised they don’t cut the hardwood floors, might be you with your lips so ready to snipe at him, might be you he can apologize to again and again and again. It will never be enough.

It. It is not you.

It’s Bucky instead, looking… better these days. Better than the man in the orange jumpsuit or the furious-faced felon facing him the day after he found out the deal Steve had made with a certain soon-to-be-former District Attorney.

You ruined his life, Steve thinks to himself again, justifying his hate for the umpteenth time.

But Bucky doesn’t look too ruined now, does he? Not now, as he looks at Steve standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, brooding with a bottle of drink and lets his jaw set hard, holding himself back from whatever cruel remark he thought he could make about the King of New York melancholy over one former flame.

He walks closer instead, lets the heavy wood door slam shut behind him, lets his eyes scan every corner like he’s scouting, like he’s waiting for someone to leap out and throttle him. You’ve been here a while, he points out, a little cautious and a little not, Didn’t check into the house last night. You camp out here?

The answer has to be obvious, doesn’t it?

She’s in Boston, is all Bucky gets, at least for now, as he sips this time, lets metal clatter against glass and then closes his eyes, Gone to the funeral.

Figured. You uh. Send someone after her?

Send someone after her? To do what?

A set of suspicious blue eyes flicker from the reflection in the window over to the former boxer to his left, brow furrowed deeper than before, if that were such a thing. To tail her?

Bucky doesn’t respond.

Not yet.

The tension in the room hangs in the air like a gallows, lever waiting to be pulled before the floor drops out from underneath him, waiting for answers he’s already dreading, even as he anticipates having no idea what they mean. Bucky — having learned to be judicious with his words for once — moves around the room, learning it a moment.

You look like shit, a digression, a change in topic, and far from the kindest thing to say to a man looking like he’s on the precipice of slamming a fist through plate-glass window, but it’s also not the worst thing, and therefore it remains. A streamer. An invitation. A rope ladder meant to pull him from the maelstrom of whatever cloudburst has him under its thumb. Regret.

Is that all you came to say?

No, it’s a simple response, filling the air with its heavy silence and then… one, deep, long-suffering sigh.

He should say something about the way Barnes pokes around the room, opens drawers until he finds… something, the brooding King isn’t actually watching save for what he can see reflected back in the window. He should say something, but he doesn’t. Lets silence sit between them like an oppressive and unwelcome guest, leering at them both.

Daring them to say the obvious.

Daring them to bring down the thunder and the fury.

I’m fine. A lie. I don’t need anyone hovering over me. Another lie.

Petulant.

That’s what he sounds like. Petulant. And judging by the way Bucky snorts, derisive and unamused — or distracted, again, carefully observing his phone for a moment — he sounds it to everyone else in the room.

D’you want me t’say I told you so now or after you’ve finished brooding?He’s merciless. He’s never actually had it in him to be tactful, and Steve’s far from a pretty baker with a mean left hook to keep him distracted.

Are you defending her? He’ll let himself sound surprised, raise one eyebrow as watches his childhood friend stand back, preparing for some onslaught or another.

She came with a contract. You’re the one who fucked it up.

He knows. He knows he made it different. He made it about something else. More than money, more than power, more than control. He made it about the only person he’d met who’d been openly willing to stand against him. Risk life and limb against him. Win against him. Playing cat and mouse, he was always the apex predator and then you stalked into that courtroom, prim and proper, lookin’ right out of a goddamn crime drama in a suit he’s pretty sure you got tailored for that specific occasion.

Not like any prosecutor he ever met. Not an ounce of stress on your face, no furtive glances at your second chair, hopin’ some supervisor would come save you when you fumbled your words. You never fumbled your words.

They were knives. Knives right out of your mouth, cutting away at the veneer of legitimacy he kept over everything he did — just a corporation with its own private security, nothing more and nothing else, so what if people got hurt, they probably needed to in the first place — until you laid it out for the world to see, bare and raw and bleeding truth.

He wanted to see you just like that. Bare. Vulnerable. Seen.

And what did that earn him but obsession and then heartache, clearly? He could have had you. Fucked and soft in his arms, could have asked no questions, could have done as he did and won you.

You could have hated him but you needed him.

You came to him first. You came to him and you sank into his arms and that submission should have been enough but it wasn’t and this is the consequence of getting fucking greedy.

I tried to talk to her.

Before or after? You talked to the target too — you never talk to the target, your own rules.

Do the job. Don’t ask questions. That was the policy, and he.

He doesn’t even do these things. What King does his own dirty work, what King leaves anything but a chain of plausible deniability wherever he goes? Keep his hands clean, keep the fall guys safe, keep him out of trouble. Except now? Now he’s here.

In trouble.

I should—

You’ve done enough, Steve.

That.

Stops him.

Well. Not quite.

The roar is a rush, blood through the ears and glass shattering hard against plate glass, leaving little more than dust for… some poor sod to clean up later, Then what? What else? What else is he supposed to do, as he finally loses the long-held control he’s barely clung to since the moment you walked into his life and upended it. What is he supposed to do? Make amends? How? He barely hears himself — and frankly, he’s not sure Bucky hears him either, so used to tuning out the things Steve says in anger — just a burst of pain pulsing through his whole self, a drumming heartbeat and then.

Exhaustion.

And Bucky Barnes, having heard his best friend, his childhood friend, the stupidest man alive in this moment vent his rage in one barely coherent rush of yelling, does little more than grab the remote to connect his phone to the television hanging from the office wall, meant to be used for presentations.

This one needs no powerpoint.

Just a headline, and then, Someone opened fire at Judge Pierce’s funeral. There’s confirmed casualties. The Senator’s been shot.

[liptonsbabe]

Remember me [F.O]

Finnick Odair x Female! reader

Chapter 1, Chapter2, Chapter 3, Chapter4

Summary: President Snow has a plan to get rid of the reader. The Quarter Quell is just around the corner and the reader knows she must stay one step ahead of the game. 

Word count: 2.2K

Warnings: swearing.

English not my mother language so pls tell me if something’s wrong. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Volunteer

It all makes sense when you sit down and analyze things in detail.

It seems silly to think that Snow has done his charitable deed by letting us go back to our districts; all he wants is for us to go back to be in the reaping for the new games.

I sit on the bed and laugh at my stupidity. Last night, Finnick forced the bathroom door open with a lock pick after it took me over two hours without leaving the bathroom, he carried me to bed and stayed with me stroking my hair and whispering that everything will be okay. I don't believe him one bit.

Finnick enters the room with a tray full of food and sweets. He sits down next to me on the bed and places the tray in front of me.

“I brought you something”

“Thanks, but I'm not hungry”

He grimaces but says nothing. Instead he puts the food down on a stool and takes my hands.

“You must feed yourself well”

I look at him and perceive a reddish tinge in his light eyes and I know mine are the same. Grief pierces my chest like a dagger as I remember that it is already a fact that Finnick will return to the Capitol. I hug him and he hides his face in my neck.

“I told you. I told you he would get revenge”

“What are you talking about?” He questions quizzically, pulling away from me.

“He used the games to get rid of what's in his way, Finnick”

“No, that's impossible. Those cards have been written a long time ago and...”

“Come on!”  I jump up angrily. I walk to the other side of the room, looking away from him “The new Quarter Quell was very opportune, don't you think? The fact of making us go back and say that the elders cannot participate, does it seem a coincidence to you? Wake up! “He raised his hands trying to clear my anger “The only thing he's looking for is to get to me, don’t you understand? And to get the newbies of district twelve out of the way”

“Don't talk like that. He could be listening to us”

“So what if he is?” I yell and whirl around the room  “I don't care if he does. Are you listening, Snow?! Do you hear me, you son of a bitch?! I hope you know how much you disgust me, you filthy rat!”

I take a deep breath and flop down on the mattress brushing back the hair that has fallen in my face after that little outburst of madness. I look at Finnick who is standing there without seeing me or saying anything.

“All I want is for the reaping to be over as soon as possible so I can get on that stupid train and get it over with”

“You are too sure you will be chosen” he says

“I can tell you don't know Snow at all”

The overwhelming silence settles in the room until Finnick approaches me and kneels in front of me. He puts one of his hands on my belly and looks up.

“What's going to happen to our baby?”

I clench my jaw and close my eyes as I deny. Finnick sobs

“I don't know”

.

.

The sunsets in the Fourth are different from the other districts. I've noticed this from spending so much time in the Capitol and some more on the Victory tour i had throughout Panem. Here the sun's rays play catch with the water of the rivers forming dancing figurines that stretch out to the anchorage where the fishermen have already finished their day's work. When the light fades and the stars appear instead, i pick up my sword and continue my training.

Tomorrow is the reaping and I must be prepared for whatever lies ahead. Finnick doesn't quite agree with me and my thinking, but I don't care. If I'm going to do this, I'm going to do it right. I make a few turns and swing the sword as if I have an opponent in front of me even though the only thing I cut with the blade is the air that is starting to threaten the shore. For people who didn't work as fishers, approaching the shore was strictly forbidden, but who cares? It's not like they can take it out on me any more than they already have.

I like swords. They're slight and highly deadly, you can attack from a certain distance and be just as deadly. I could say it's my strong point, i can handle crossbows, knives and even Finnick's trident but the sword without a doubt is my comfort zone.

I use my weapon for a couple more minutes until Finnick approaches me carrying the wooden trident he made himself, it wasn't like the one he had in the Capitol, this one is more special and not exotic at all. I smile at him and go back to my work.

“I thought this training would be temporary," he says putting the trident between his shoulders and leaning on it, "But I see it's going to last for a long time”

“Well, one and two’s victors aren't the only Careers, are they?

Finnick laughs and for a moment my legs give out. That's the effect he has on me. It makes me vulnerable to his presence and his beautiful way of being and acting. He knows it and approaches me leaving his gun stuck in the sand.

“I think you should get some rest. In your condition it's not good for you to exert yourself too much”

“I'm fine. We're fine” I assure and Finnick grabs me by the waist “A little exercise wouldn't do us any harm”

“I really hope you two are out of this” I tilt my head and he smiles shyly “It's not that I want Annie to come with me, of course. I just... I don't want you to have to go through that hell again”

“We're the only victors under seventy left, Finnick. One of us will have to go. And I have no doubt who it will be”

Finnick hugs me and hides his face in my neck tickling me with the hair that has started to grow on his chin. He laughs too and kisses my neck making my senses go off balance.

“Come on doll, you've been training all afternoon. You need to rest” I push him away knowing where he is going with all this. He wants to entangle me to forget this whole thing. I look at him reluctantly and he smiles at me.

“Very smart of you Finnick”

“My love..." he says, feigning to come closer. I place the tip of my sword on his chest without hurting him.

“Stay away if you don't want me to stick this in you”

“I'm the one who wants to stick something in you tonight," he says, making me blush. I deny and walk away

“Come on, take your trident and let's practice together”

“Fight a pregnant lady? I don't think so”

“You don't think so? Well, this pregnant lady can kick your ass”

Finnick raises an eyebrow waiting for me to make a move, but I don't. He smiles and picks up his trident as he gets into position.

“Okay, Mrs. Odair. Let's do this. I'll be careful not to hurt you”

I roll my eyes and get into position.

“Come here, smart ass”

.

.

The prep team has come to our house as a surprise the next morning. Finnick and I are too beat up to open the door, but that doesn't stop them. Somehow they got their hands on a copy of the key and entered as if it was their house. They've pulled us up by our hair to prepare for the reaping.

“Lydia, I don't want to do this. It's too early in the morning and I'm tired," I grumble when my long-time stylist orders me to take a bath.

“It's not my fault you've been training like a couple of cavemen. So inside we go!”

Lydia nudges me from behind, encouraging me to go into the bathroom. Dorian and Ravena, Lydia's helpers, are already there. They smile at me and help me undress.

“What have you been doing?” Lydia screams in horror, looking at how uneven my nails are. I shrug my shoulders and step into the tub. "Good God, I'll have a heart attack before I can even put hairspray in your hair”

“You overdo it, as usual”

The prep team helps me get cleaned up which I find very bizarre and unnecessary. They all grope me and mutter about how unkempt my body and hair are while whispering about the sad news about the Quarter Quell.

“And now what are you going to be a mother, Oh dear!” Lydia bursts into tears over my wet shoulder. I push her away and smile unwillingly.

“It's okay, Lydia. I guess something like this was bound to happen”

“Everyone in the Capitol is going crazy," Ravenna argues, brushing my hair, "No one wants to see you in the games. People are hoping that Annie will be the one to participate.

I look at Lydia who has nodded at her partner's words. For a moment I am disgusted by the way she has spoken and by the behavior of all the people in the Capitol. I get up from the tub and Dorian wraps a giant towel around me.

“It will be what it has to be”

The three nod and continue with their beauty ritual. They apply light make-up and do my nails, stamping small waves as if the bottom of them were a vast sea; they dress me in jeans, a white blouse, a pair of brown boots and a coat as the cold has started in the district. Lydia kisses my cheek and says goodbye.

“I have to go to Finnick's to help him a bit. You know, to make him look better”

“I don't understand, there's no point in getting dressed up for the reaping”

Lydia shrugs and fixes my hair one last time.

“It's the least we can do for you” Her eyes have reddened behind that exaggerated layer of makeup and i know she's ready to cry. I hug her and she holds back her tears.

“I thank you so much, I really do. For doing this and risking you to President Snow...”

“The only thing that matters to me is you, honey”

I nod, touched by her words. I let her go and the other two stylists lead me to the door where the peacekeepers are waiting for me at the entrance. They take me by the arms and lead me to the center of the victors' village, where Annie is already waiting for us. Her red hair is combed and her clothes are clean, although i know she's had one of those seizures that leaves her with mental lapses. I try to hug her, but one of those peacekeepers pulls me fifteen paces away from her. We wait a couple of minutes until Finnick comes out and they lead him towards us fifteen paces away from me.

We walk to the esplanade in the middle of a caravan of people who have gathered to witness the event. Most of the people gathered there are friends from years ago or simple villagers who come to give us their pitying glances. We arrive at the justice building and I see that a wave of people is already prepared to hear the district advisor announce this year's tributes. We walk down the main corridor and stop at the bottom of the stairs. I notice Mags to the left side of me and avoid looking at her because i know i'm going to collapse on the spot. We go upstairs and Tonya, the district advisor, places Annie and I on her left side and Finnick on the right; there are two balls, one of them only has one name and the other two names. I swallow thinking that one of those is mine.

“Welcome, welcome," she says without his usual shrill voice. She’s sad, as I am” Today, we will meet the tributes who will represent us in the third Quarter Quell. As always, ladies first”

I curse when Annie starts sobbing. I flick my wrist and hold her hand letting her know that everything will be okay. We both look straight ahead and my gaze is lost on a pair of little birds fluttering among the small branches of the oldest tree in the district. I wish i could be those birds. To be able to spread my wings and fly far away from here with Finnick and get lost in a place where our lives are not in danger every second. For a few minutes i miss Tonya's previous speech and relive until she announces the chosen one.

“Annie Cresta”

The people say nothing and seem relieved that it's Annie who dies in these games. My blood boils as i think how happy Snow must be to have manipulated the outcome and then changed it to his benefit by controlling the masses. I turn and see Annie who is crying and Finnick with his face down. Then, I raise my hand

“I volunteer as a tribute”

[poisonouswritings]

I feel like in every tickle fight you have with Sage he always holds the back of your head to make sure you don't get hurt even if you're on the bed just in case yall fall off or something. He's,,,,always so gentle :((((

I wholeheartedly belive that Lucan is a music loving guy so he'd probably sing you to sleep sometimes. Or just falling asleep listening to his voice in general

I feel like Balsam would almost always have a hand on or around your shoulders,,,,,,he just likes having you close by. Also he would tuck you in!!!! Or at least come say goodnight no matter what just to make sure you're in bed safe :))))

Elowen teaching you how to ride horses!!!!!! She's sitting behind you and cuddling into your neck while showing you how the saddle is adjusted

Tulsi's hands are probably really calloused right? So imagine her reaction when you start kissing the little nubs on her hands,,,,,aaaaaaaa

After a while when you and Felix get a little close you start borrowing some of his books to read in your free time and you kinda notice how so many dialogues seem so familiar,,,,he probably steals phrases from books all the time and recites them to you trying to seem cool and when you point it out to him he'll just sputtering say how that's neither here nor there,,,

Remember that scene is sages route of chapter 4 when he teaches you to fight? That but with Anisa showing you how to use a bow,,,, I'll leave the rest to your imagination ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Saaros getting bored and taking you on carriage rides when they bored telling you about the history of whatever place you end up in. They'd probably use their Book magic thingy to try and guess where you'd like to go-

Matching daggers with rime.thats it.just.so asethetic.fuck it matching clothes too.

-egg anon (dumb bitch anon)

Dearest friend all of these are making me go feral I'm so in love with these

Very slight NSFW on the first one, just referencing a certain kink community, nothing graphic

He is,,, and he would. And I would like to go on a very minor side tangent! There's actually a tickling (kink) community. The softness and affection of [the act of] tickling is a big part of it and I just wanna say that I feel like Sage both has that kink and therefore is extra warm and gentle while tickling you, and always gets flustered as a result because it's just so warm and soft and he loves you so much and uggggh I love him. He's teasing you and giving you soft little kisses on your neck and your shoulder but when it starts to be a little too much for you he recognizes it and stops and then he cuddles you against his chest and kisses the top of your head and purrs real softly while praising you for doing so well and I feel like this is another one of those times where I'm outing myself for things

Lucan loves music! And dancing! Teaches you to dance if you don't already know how. 1000% sings you to sleep. You don't even have to ask him, he just does it. If you ever sing your favorite songs for him he'll do his best to remember the lyrics and then sing that as a lullaby/to cheer you up if you're feeling down.

Yeah!!! It starts off because he's trying to like,, guide you through the crowds or something but then it just becomes a habit. Sage and Lucan tease him a little bit but Balsam just wants to protecc you. And y'know what? Even when he's blackout drunk he'll still stumble into your room to say goodnight. And then pass out on your floor.

I just,,, I find the idea so funny of Elowen getting all comfy behind you,, running her hands up your sides a little to tease you, oh MC you have to keep your hands on the reins or else you're gonna fall >:3 as she's doing everything in her power to distract you,,, smooching your neck and purring in your ear,,,,,, and then like an hour later as you're still riding you finally realize Elowen has No Fucking Clue how to ride a horse, she literally just found a random horse with a saddle and hijacked it for a joyride.

Tulsi is! Very proud of her hands!! She likes her callouses. Makes her feel like she's big and strong. I think she found a lot of comfort in her work when Sage 'died', and being a strong blacksmith gave her back a sense of control and strength that she desperately needed. So you gently grab her wrists and start delicately kissing her palms?? She's. She's dead. Dead and warm and soft and I love her

You confront him,,, he has this One Phrase he says a lot and you find it in one of the books and one day he's on the sofa reading and you sit down next to him like Oh Look I Found This Neat Book :) and you start reading the passage and Felix is just sliding down in his seat

No listen I am literally an archer (as in I've won competitions and awards, albeit minor ones) and,, Anisa tries to show you how to do it and you let her because it's cute and she's being all flirty,, she lands it on the 7 ring,, and then she says you can try it on your own because she wants to see how you do on her own because oh if you're still not getting it she can teach you some more ;3 but then you get a bullseye and she's like! oh!! and you're like 'it'd be a little easier if I had my proper sight or my stabilizers or the string was weighted right or if the string was waxed or if you had your arm guard or even your finger tab, those at this point you'd settle for a glove, and Annie is just standing there like 👁👄👁

Saaros learning the history of a place just so they can take you out and impress you,, acting like it's no big deal,,, but when you gush about how smart they are then they're looking away and blushing a little,,,

You're right!! Rime would love to match. Just gives you clothes from his wardrobe. Buys you jewelry so you can match with that too. If you manage to like,, find cosplay antlers,,,, you wear them,,,, he finds it so adorable he physically cannot with you.

[amiedala]

SOMETHING DEEPER

CHAPTER 19: Nova and the Nothingness

WARNINGS: canon-compliant violence, descriptions of blood and injuries

SUMMARY: Din unfreezes, moves, pulls her in closer. His hands travel to the sides of her face, thumbs dancing across her cheekbones, holding her reverently. What was in his eyes earlier is gone. It was fake, a shadow, a figment of imagination, because all she can see is a supernova. A star bursting and dying, fading from existence. It’s her. Nova and the nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” she pleads, voice breaking. In her periphery, she can feel the vision fracturing, and Nova clings onto this version of Din until he starts to fade away, too. “I love you so much—”

And then, her own words come out of Din’s beautiful mouth. “Don’t throw it away.”

If you’re a newcomer, my fic “Something More” is the first installment of this story! <3

AUTHOR’S NOTE: with the UTMOST excitement, i am wishing you all A HAPPY SOMETHING DEEPER SATURDAY!!! i'm so sorry this is so late, but i hope it's worth the wait. more notes / health update at the end <3

Wedge flickers in and out like he’s buffering. It’s in his face, in the wrinkles of his forehead, in the set of his jaw. Nova can see so much sadness, even through the blue of the hologram, and her heart wrenches with the knowledge that she put so much of it there.

For a second, they just stare at each other. To Fennec’s credit, all she offers is one slightly raised eyebrow before she pours all of her concentration into navigating the ship. Nova swallows, afraid to speak, as if it’ll cut through the veil and reveal she’s not actually talking to him.

“Novalise,” Wedge says, finally, distantly, his voice tinny and distorted through the azure of the hologram, “how can I help?”

Nova swallows. She’s on the verge of tears. It’s building up, a tightness in her throat, a ringing in her ears, a thrumming in the hollow of her open mouth. Fennec is still pointedly staring at the control system as she catches into hyperspace, Slave I emitting a low hum before the engine catches up. She closes her eyes, squeezes them, and then looks straight into Wedge’s holographic eyes, refusing to run from her own mistakes anymore.

“Sparmau has Din and Bo-Katan,” Nova manages as steadily as she can. “She took them off of Mandalore when I was…incapacitated. On Hosnian Prime.”

Wedge cocks his head to the side. It’s only for a second, but it makes Nova ache with missing Din. “You were on Hosnian Prime?’

Nova swallows. “I—I made a mistake. Ever since I left Hoth, I keep making mistakes. I was reckless. I thought I could handle her alone, and I thought that I could stop anyone else from getting hurt.” She inhales, a shaky thing, and then finishes talking. “I was wrong,” Nova says, as steadily as she can, not taking her eyes off of Wedge’s flickering form. “The whole time, I was wrong. I thought this was only my fight, and mine to bear alone. It’s not.”

Wedge doesn’t speak, but Nova doesn’t try to talk over his silence. For a long moment, he takes her in, eyes roving over the scar healed over her eye, the fresh bruises she’s sporting, the amalgamation of Jedi and Mandalorian and Rebel that she’s wearing—all the armor, and all the places it didn’t cover. “You were on Hosnian Prime,” he repeats.

Nova nods. “Sparmau told me she would meet me. Alone. On Yavin.” She inhales again, ragged and cold. “I went there planning to kill her. I tried, with the twin poison dagger that Din got knifed with. But she must carry the antidote, or maybe she’s just been exposed enough that it wounds instead of kills. I don’t know.” Nova slides her hand into the pocket of her pants, feeling the glowing yellow outline of the Kyber crystal pulse underneath her touch. “I barely made it out of there alive. I wasn’t conscious. When I came to,” she says, running her tongue over her teeth, “I was on the Millenium Falcon.”

Wedge stares for a second before the hologram glitches. Nova loses sight of him for a blip, and when he filters back in, Wedge is dragging a hand over his face, tinged with nostalgia. “Leia.”

Despite everything, a tiny ghost of a smile flickers its way across Nova’s face. “Indirectly. She sent Han and Chewbacca to pick me up—”

“And bring you to Hosnian Prime,” Wedge finishes. He nods imperceptibly, the tiny jerk of his chin the only indication that he’s moving at all. “Did she—?”

“Train me?” Nova fills in. “Sort of.” She adjusts in her seat, pulling a knee close to her chest. It feels like safety, and she leans into her own touch. “She started to. She taught me more than anyone else has about being a Jedi.” Nova’s hand twitches over the stone in her pocket. “She also told me that the Alliance would want to help. That this is what we were founded on.”

Wedge seems to look straight through her. “And you ran.”

Nova’s heart lurches. Her cheeks flush with the embarrassment of it, the guilt. It’s the truth, and she can’t run from it anymore—literally and figuratively. “Yes,” she confirms, closing her eyes. “Yeah, I ran. Because Sparmau infiltrated my dreams and took Din and Bo-Katan. Do you know what kind of power it takes to kidnap two Mandalorians? I didn’t want any of you near her, but it doesn’t matter. I learned my lesson, Wedge. I can’t handle her alone, and I was an idiot to try.”

Wedge holds her gaze. “You’re not an idiot, Novalise.”

Nova swallows. “I made a mistake,” she whispers, voice too wobbly to sustain more.

Wedge’s gaze is so complicated. For a second, Nova looks up at the tunnel of luminance that hyperspace consists of, the giant domed window of Slave I ripping right through it. Fennec is still minding her own business, her shoulders back, long braid hanging off of one. Nova lets everything run out of her, like she does when she’s trying to channel the Force, but when she looks back at the hologram, Wedge is still staring at her.

“You did,” he says, finally, and there’s an edge to it, but Nova can’t quantify it as anger. It’s bigger than that, and loaded with more ammunition to conjure regret. “You did make a mistake. Your whole life—every second since you’ve been in this galaxy, as Andromeda and Novalise and everyone in between—has been spent around people who would follow you anywhere. Even if that means battle. Even if that means war. We’ve all been fighting in one for years anyway. It didn’t go away after the Empire lost.” He looks at her, head-on. “This isn’t what your parents wanted for you.”

That snaps Nova out of it, the wallowing. The name for the look Wedge gives her crystallizes in her mind. It’s not anger. It’s disappointment. “She killed them,” Nova hisses. “Sparmau. She shot them out of the sky.”

Wedge’s holographic face goes white. “What?”

Nova swallows. The flash of an angry flame dissipates, but she can feel it curling around her stomach. It’s awful, the weight of it. It exhausts her, ripping through and leaving her with nothing. “She told me. Showed me. It wasn’t the Empire, Wedge, it was her.”

“But,” Wedge starts, and something beeps steadily in the background. He ignores it, still staring at Nova through the hologram. “You were a kid. You had no idea you were even Force sensitive at that point, did she—”

“Choose me—or my parents—as an easy target, or was it calculated?”

Wedge lifts his chin.

“I don’t know,” Nova sighs, jutting her chin out to balance on her knee, the one curled in close to her chest. “She might have known. Had visions about me, before I became anything else. She’s Bo-Katan’s age, maybe a few years older.”

The mention of her friend’s name clenches in Nova’s chest. Panic pools over her before Nova can even clock what it is, and it seizes, relentless and pulsing.

“I can’t lose them, Wedge,” Nova whispers, a tiny melody that barely resounds in the cockpit of Slave I, let alone across the hololgram. “I was wrong. I was wrong for running. I was wrong for putting you in that position. I was being selfish, and probably childish, and I was so adamant about saving everyone that I left you all in the dark.” She swallows, feeling the familiar, endless pinpricks of tears leak in at the corners of her eyes. “I know it doesn’t mean much, after all this time, but I need to say it.” The hologram flickers around the edges, and Nova braces her hands around the edge of it, like that’ll stop Wedge’s image from shattering. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, a baby bird of a thing, finally laid bare.

Wedge softens. For a second, Nova can’t see the horror and the pain that’s ripped him through written across his face. His smile lines are more prominent than his frown ones are, and the valley between his strong eyebrows fades into the light. For this moment, this one gleaming second, he looks like himself—the boy he was before the war, the man Nova’s looked up to her whole life. It sends a shockwave through her body, and Nova shakes with the feeling of it, the memory.

“What do you need?” Wedge asks, and with those four little words, Nova knows he forgives her.

She lets out a shuddering breath. “You. I need your firepower. I need you to be ready to fight. I’d say bring the rest of the Alliance with you, because we need strength in numbers, but Sparmau has connections in all the worst places, and I’m afraid someone will come after Hoth.” Nova pauses. “I—I don’t know where the fight’s going to happen. I don’t know when it’s going to happen. But we don’t have time. Din and Bo-Katan—” Nova’s throat closes. She feels feverish and clammy with the worry of it. “They don’t have time. They’re not dead, because Sparmau needs them to get to me. But you saw Bo-Katan’s neck after…we need to be smart. And fast.”

Wedge nods, and Nova can tell, even through the hologram, that his shoulders are squared, ready for a fight. The projection casts everything a deep azure, but Nova knows that down to his bones, Wedge is outfitted in Rebel orange.

“Wedge,” Nova says, her voice raggedy, “I still don’t want to put you in dang—”

“Whatever you need,” Wedge interrupts, “whenever you need it. You aren’t allowed to be a martyr, Novalise.”

Nova swallows. “You’re sure?”

“I’m a Rebel,” Wedge reminds her, gently, “it’s what we do.”

“Thank you,” Nova whispers. The ship shakes through warp like it’s agreeing to her benediction.

“I’ll be on call,” Wedge says, saluting her. “You know where to find me.”

And as he clicks the hologram into nothing, Nova can feel a fight beginning to build up in her blood, down to her bones.

Nova sleeps.

It feels like respite, like a relief. She doesn't know how close they are to Tatooine, but after her conversation with Wedge, Nova’s exhausted. The remnants of the crystal cavern still feel like luminescence, electricity sparking up in her veins. Slave I doesn’t have much of a sleeping quarters, but Nova doesn’t care. She climbs into the crawlspace Fennec pointed to when she asked about the bed, closing her burning eyes and ignoring the double pyre of guilt and hope that are wrestling in her stomach.

In the dark, under the thin excuse for a blanket, blacked out on all sides from the absence of all outside light, Nova pulls the Kyber crystal out of her pocket and cradles it in her hands. It glows. It sparkles, shines in her hands like it was always made for her. The halo around it is pale yellow and glistening, like the weight of a million stars. The heart of it, in the center of the cut, is deep and warm, like the last rays of a Yavin sunset before it disappears and slips away over the horizon line.

She holds it like something holy. It is something holy. It’s a remnant, a relic from a time everyone has said is long dead. Knowing Luke and Leia and Ahsoka is proof that the Jedi aren’t dead, that they’ve just been hiding through the rise and fall of the Empire and in the beginnings of the New Republic.

But this is different. Holding this crystal, holding something that feels like an entire lifeforce—it’s more than Nova ever dreamed. She felt power when she stabbed Sparmau, when she picked up a lightsaber for the first time, the way she makes Din shudder in the dark, in beating Gideon and Jacterr and Merle, in surviving long enough for Andromeda to become Novalise. This is history, living in the palm of her hand. This is a connection to something so much deeper and bigger than her.

Nova watches it, the crystal, pulsing and flickering at her touch. In the peripheral emptiness of the dark, she can see the echoes of the Jedi in her envisioned cathedral, the strength and vitality that catalyzed in their image alone. It was like looking at saints, like swallowing sanctitude and metabolizing it. Nova closes her eyes, the glow of her yellow crystal still glinting, and she fades off into sleep.

*

For hours, days, maybe, Nova can’t tell, she exists in a dreamless nothing. It comes up and curls around her body, blanketing her into comfort she hasn’t felt in weeks. There’s no images flickering and pulsing behind her eyes, no call from the beyond. It’s just Nova and the nothingness, tied together by something inherited, something down in her bone marrow.

And then, as quickly as it melted into dreamlessness, a vision lights up Nova’s head.

At first, it’s benevolent. There’s the warmth of the sun dancing above her, the rays pouring down. When Novalise opens her eyes, she’s in the middle of a field of flowers, tiny violets dancing in the slight breeze. They’re lit up from somewhere other than the sun, Nova realizes, just like the bioluminescent ones on Yavin. She swallows, sitting up, running her hands over the slip of a dress she’s outfitted in, the same gorgeous, sparkling yellow that her crystal is made up of. Her hair is long and natural, curls rustling and lifting as the wind skates across the moor again, making everything organic dance.

Nova props herself up on her hands, squinting until her vision filters back in and adjusts to the brightness. It’s beautiful. That’s her first thought, and her second, and her third. It’s a sea of greenery, flowers and tall grasses and trees sprouting up off in the distance, their branches reaching as if to embrace their own. Something smells like a memory of home—the gentle sea breeze rippling through the air, the permanent flicker of engine oil, something earthy and fallow down in the dirt. If Nova didn’t know every inch of her home planet, she’d swear she was on Yavin.

She stands, pushing herself to her feet. The sky ebbs and flows with both clouds and color. It’s on such a detailed, minute scale that Nova doesn’t realize it’s happening at first. The color shifts from blue to purple to pink to orange to yellow to green and back again, but the pastel of the hue is so light you’d have to be staring straight up to notice it at all.

But Nova does. Her whole life is above, heavenward, up in the stars—looking upward is her standard position, her resting place. It feels magical, wherever she is. Somewhere as holy as that reconstructed cathedral, as the crystal cave.

“Novalise.”

The feeling of solitude—existing in line with the nature of this place, being forged from it—suddenly jolts in Nova’s stomach before it disappears. She whirls around, and there’s Din, in full armor, hip cocked to the side, gloved hand resting on the holster pressed against his hip.

Seeing her husband, the Mand’alor—Din Djarin in any capacity—makes Nova’s heart do backflips. It doesn’t matter how long she’s loved him, he still sparkles in the same way. He’s shimmering around the edges like he’s glowing, like something to worship. Nova makes her way through the grass, dress rustling up a melody as she walks. As she closes the gap, the sky above glimmers into pink, and Nova can feel the honeysuckle and sunset smell that belongs to Naator. She breathes it in, a fortification, and when she finally stands face-to-face with Din, all she can feel is starshine.

He steps forward, the rims of his beskar boots lining up perfectly with her bare feet, and Nova arches her neck to look up at him, to drink him in. Din sighs, low and thick through the modulator, and Nova can feel it rip and rumble through her body like the lightning before the thunder.

“Din,” she breathes, and then his hands are on her. Even in a dream, even with the entire world flickering around the edges, Nova can feel the full weight of it. His fingers, gloved and strong, notching into all of the places on her body that he’s made his claim. The palms of his hands, hefty and sturdy, grabbing everywhere Nova needs. The slight tip of his helmet, to the left and then forward, the visor dipping low enough for Nova to see her own eyes reflected in it—a stormcloud sage and a want rippling through them. She sighs and shudders, letting her body become loose and pliable. Nova swallows, heart skipping every third beat, arrhythmic and addicting.

“Where did you go?” Din murmurs, planting his left hand on her hip, anchoring Nova in place. She inhales, and his right hand grazes up her bare arm to stroke a line over the contours of her cheekbone. Even through the gloves—gloves Din’s hunted in, killed in—Nova can feel the softness of his hands underneath, their purpose, their intention, their desire. His thumb strokes over her cheek, delicate like a butterfly wing, and Nova feels her knees sag, weak under the intensity of Din’s touch. “Where have you been?’

Nova’s mouth falls open, and Din moves his hand off her hip, lighting-fast, planted into the small of her back. Nova’s knees buckle, and she can feel heat gather between her legs, wet and sacred. “I’m sorry,” she whispers, seeing her breath fog up against the visor, every single piece of beskar polished bright enough to gleam Nova’s own reflection right back to her. “I—I didn’t mean to disappear, I—”

“Where did you go?” Din repeats, and there’s an edge to his voice. Nova can feel his grip tighten so palpably it feels like they’re skin on skin, stripped down with nothing left to worship or hide behind other than the other. “Where have you been?”

Nova swallows. Her heart hammers again, but it’s not with the heat of Din’s touch. Even in this paradise, even in such a sweet dream, Nova can feel danger threatening to flick into her utopia, crack open its chest. She feels like she’s been spinning for hours and hours, feet twisting over each other like they did back on Yavin, when she was young and unafraid. Something feels like it’s obstructing the air around her, because as Din’s grip tightens, so does her throat. “I—”

It’s now that Nova realizes that she’s not just dreaming. Everything feels too real.

“Where?” Din threatens again, and the air bottoms out, leaving Nova running on empty with no oxygen to fill up her lungs. She can feel the ground she’s standing on flicker and decay, beginning to crumble around the edges. With one hand, Nova reaches forward, slamming her fist against the beskar. It’s futile, and it’s useless, but her vision flickers in and out, and Din’s hand slips down from her neck to her chin, a vice grip keeping her locked in place. “Where are you?”

And then the dream shifts. Nova gasps, falling to the new ground like she’s just been eviscerated, air in her lungs excommunicated and held away from her. She heaves, letting her depleted body fill back up on oxygen, and when the world filters back in, Nova doesn’t know where she is. She’s alone, at least for the moment, but everything is dark, dark, dark. Somewhere in the distance, there’s something dripping, a tap haunted by something Nova can’t see. She closes her eyes, the pinpricks of stars that shine with oxygen deprival slowly disappearing.

In her head, replaying like a song stuck on a loop, Nova can hear the echo of Din’s questions. Where did you go? She pushes herself to her feet, trying to get her bearings, staggering under the weight of it all. Where have you been? Nova swallows, dragging the back of her hand over her face. It’s wet with something, but she can’t tell if it’s tears or sweat or blood, and Nova shudders again.

Slowly, carefully, Nova steps forward. She has no markers, no bearings, nothing to navigate the sea of nothingness. She doesn’t know if she’s in a room or suspended somewhere else, trapped between two worlds.

“I’m you.”

Nova whips around, her spine rigid, but there’s nobody there. Her heart picks up speed again, her body chilled down to the bone. “Who are you?’

“I’m you.” The voice sounds so familiar, but Nova can’t place it. She whips around again, trying to catch where it’s ricocheting, but it’s impossible. It’s like she’s stuck in a vantablack echo chamber.

“Where are you?’ Nova adjusts, placing one foot in front of the other, freezing against the black floor.

And in the hollow of her ear, whispered in the darkness, she’s struck by it. “I’m you,” the voice breathes. “I’m right here.” Nova whips around again, but the voice gets closer still. “Don’t throw it away.”

Like pushed by a tidal wave, Nova gets knocked backwards, through the nothingness, through the dark, without any bearings to keep her aligned, awake, alive. She thinks she screams, but she’s not positive, and everything inside of her is volted and coiled tight, shedding and tightening at the same time.

And still, she’s not awake. She can feel it in the way that the world shimmers and shakes. She can tell it before she even opens her eyes, the unsteadiness of it. Nova’s been out on the water before, and it’s a completely different sense of unsteadiness. Space feels like home, the gravity of it, the absence of it. Her stomach turns with the sensation of being seabound, and she swallows, trying to get her bearings before she lets her eyelids flicker open, to invite her into the nightmare.

It’s not a meadow. It’s not a pit of darkness, either. Nova looks around, using her hands to feel for any trapdoors or tricks, but nothing catches.

It’s the Jedi Temple. Nova has no idea how she knows, because the architecture of it had been razed down to rubble the only time she was there, and this building is very much alive, but she can feel it in the pit of her stomach, the knowledge of it, the rightness. She spins around, trying to orient herself, but it’s as useless as it was back on Hosnian Prime, running for miles through the hallways of Leia’s chambers.

There are people. Nova’s breath catches in her throat, trying to match them to any of the figureheads up on the cathedral she was transported to in the crystal cavern. They look unfinished, and as she blinks, her vision filters into place.

They’re children. Nova trips over her own feet as she runs towards them, the gaggle of tiny padawans, trying to get there in time for—she doesn’t know what. But there’s desperation being pumped through her aorta, and she knows there’s danger. Every time she has one of these visions, fleeting, flashes of moments, there’s always a clock she needs to run out. And they’re real, all of her visions are based in some fragment of truth, so Nova skids to a stop just in front of the younglings, but every single one of them looks straight through her.

She can feel the panic. “Please,” she whispers, holding trembling fingers up to the smallest one, a tiny blonde boy who barely comes up to her thigh. “Please, why am I—”

One of them gasps, and Nova gets knocked off kilter, stumbling backward. The noise from outside this one preserved hallway starts filtering in, and Nova knows immediately why her panic set in, when it started, how it devastated her.

She can feel it, because someone else felt it first.

“Grogu,” she whispers. He’s so small, just a blur in the distance, separated from the rest of the padawans. He’s even tinier than he is now, the smallest ball of green and robes, his ears nearly twice the side of his head, his eyes wide and glistening. “Hey,” Nova calls, her voice trembling. “Hey, baby, come here, bug—”

The screaming grows louder. There’s a crackle that sounds disturbingly like a flame, and Nova can feel the children behind her buckle and cower in fear. She stands a step apart, vision darting back and forth from these tiny younglings and the son she’d give her life for, and with tears pouring down her cheeks, Nova rushes toward Grogu. She scoops him up, and he cries out like he recognizes her, even though it’s not possible, even though Nova’s not really there.

“Please,” Nova whispers, her whole body aching from the trauma of it all, the realness of it, how tangible this horror feels. In the distance, there’s the sound of a lightsaber igniting, and then a scream, and Nova can’t take it. Not after being dragged within an inch of death. Not after leaving everyone she loves behind because she wanted to protect them.

Again, the voice in her ear, the disembodied one that somehow belongs to her, whispers. “Don’t throw it away.”

It’s like a catalyst. Nova rushes forward, Grogu in her arms, barrelling towards the younglings. “Go!” she screams, her voice ripping through an octave, “go!”

They can’t hear her. Nova knows they can’t hear her. But the blonde boy seems to meet her eyes, just for a second, and he leads the rest of the padawans around the corner, and Nova hears a door shut behind them. It doesn’t feel right—like she’s just prolonging their lives instead of saving them—but it’s something. She turns back to Grogu. “I’m going—I need to get you out of here—”

Grogu looks up at her, his eyes so sentient, so alive, and Nova knows. She’s not here to save him. She’s not there to save them. She’s not even here to save herself. And she feels the lightsaber igniting before it even sparks, and she tries to suppress her sob under the noise of it, knowing what’s coming next. No one survives except Grogu.

“I,” Nova starts, her voice betraying her, “have got to get you out of here, buddy—”

And Grogu, in that sweet, infuriating way he’s perfected, silences Nova by touching his tiny hand to her cheek.

Nova’s catapulted backwards, through time and space, and then forward. She sees flashes of things. Faces of Jedi whose names she’s only heard spoken once or twice. The sandy moors of Arvala-7. The warmth of a planet she’s never been to, with children laughing in streams. Stars catching and exploding into hyperspace. Din’s face, unmasked, with tears in his eyes. Ahsoka’s lightsabers igniting. Glimpses of Tatooine. The feeling of flying back in the Razor Crest. The first time Nova used the Force for real, lifting his precious metal ball up and above their heads. Crying while leaving Dantooine. The gorgeousness of Yavin, the sunset above, the greenery below, all of it. Nova and Din landing on Ahch-To. A slice of fear while looking into Ben Solo’s eyes. Moving across the mountain in tandem with Luke. Din taking the throne back on Mandalore. Bo-Katan begrudgingly feeding him frogs. Nova’s face, her hair shorter, her eyebrow unmarred, her face covered in ash and dust from crash landing on Nevarro, and the feeling of home.

Nova gets jolted, knocking out of the vision for a split second, and she knows what Grogu’s trying to show her. Everything he’s lived, after everything he lost. There’s nothing there beyond his warmth, his vision, his love.

And when he pulls her back under, Nova feels something in her body relax. Because there’s Din and Nova, old on Naator, Grogu in the middle of the tangle of their bodies, looking up at the ever-pink sky. There’s flashes of them all on the beskar throne, holding court on Mandalore. Din chasing Nova through somewhere gorgeous, the air light and filled with laughter. Sharing spotchka and spirits on Tatooine, clinking glasses against Boba’s and Fennec’s. A giant hug from Wedge, Nova’s knees buckling under the relief that he’s her family again. Nova pulling a giant wave up and over their heads, froth from the foam dancing down like a protection spell. Din’s face buried in Nova’s neck, Grogu bouncing gleefully between the two of them. A feeling of victory, of moving on, of hope. Nova sees her face, and Din’s, aged years past ones neither of their parents got to see.

“Grogu,” she whispers, and then the vision changes again.

Nova cries as she comes out of it, but she lands in Din’s arms.

She looks up, heart still hammering from freefalling and asphyxiation and being stuck in someone else’s memories. Din’s in armor, his cloak Mandalore blue, but his helmet is off. His hair is shorter than the last time she curled her fingers through it. The mustache dancing across his upper lip is thicker. His eyes, brown and glimmering, dancing in the light from above.

Nova’s eyes meet his and ascend, neck craning back to looking upward. She’s in the cathedral. All of the Jedi, painted like saints, have faded, but the foundation remains. Everything is glimmering and golden and gorgeous, shining brilliantly against all of their silver. Nova swallows, turning around to take it all in, the feeling of standing on the dais, the feeling of being somewhere holy. It hurts in such a brilliant way. She can’t make it fit right in her chest.

Din steps forward, feet in line with hers, and Nova looks back down at him. One hand reaches forward to anchor on her hip. The other grazes up her arm, but this time, they’re ungloved, his skin radiant against hers. Nova feels the lump in her throat, the growing tears in the corners of her eyes. It feels cyclical and redundant and familiar and terrifying. When Din’s hand snaps flat against the small of her back, the fear rushes into her, coursing frantically through her veins. He pulls her close, and Nova prepares for the impact, for it to yank her away, but it doesn’t come. She opens her eyes, and with the lightness of a feather, Nova reaches up to cradle Din’s face in her hands, feel the warmth of his skin, breath him in, the mesh of cinnamon and gunsmoke and metal and cleanness sparkling like a drug.

“Din,” she whispers. “Din, I—I love you. I love you so much, it breaks in my chest. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I left you, baby. This is my fault. All of this is my fault. I—I know that. I regret it, every second of it, tearing myself away from you, running when I vowed I wouldn’t. This is my fault. This is my fault. I need you to know how sorry I am. And how much I love you. I understand now. You leaving me on Dantooine and how much it must have hurt you. But what I did protected no one. It just—”

Broke, is what Nova meant to say. But the words won’t come out. Din’s staring down at her, eyes still alight, the tiniest quirk of a smile on his lips, preserved as if in amber. Nova swallows, and then she can feel it again. The panic she’s been staving off.

Din unfreezes, moves, pulls her in closer. His hands travel to the sides of her face, thumbs dancing across her cheekbones, holding her reverently. What was in his eyes earlier is gone. It was fake, a shadow, a figment of imagination, because all she can see is a supernova. A star bursting and dying, fading from existence. It’s her. Nova and the nothingness.

“I’m sorry,” she pleads, voice breaking. In her periphery, she can feel the vision fracturing, and Nova clings onto this version of Din until he starts to fade away, too. “I love you so much—”

And then, her own words come out of Din’s beautiful mouth. “Don’t throw it away.”

When he’s gone, too, Nova screams, loud enough to shatter bone. She spins, her arm slicking through the air as if the nightmare will unzip and let her out, but all she sees is a mirror. Her reflection is a mess, her green eyes grey, her brown skin stripped of its warmth, her hair wild and undone from the weight of it all, her mouth trembling.

“Let me fix it!” Nova roars, watching as her body unhinges, everything shattering around her. “Let me out, let me out, let me go—”

“Oh.”

At the single syllable, Nova spins back around, and for a second, she thinks she’s looking into a mirror. Green eyes, brown skin, dark hair. But then the person steps forward, and it’s not Nova. It’s Ezra.

“Ezra—”

“There you are,” he says, stepping towards her. Nova reflects him, moving her left foot in tandem. “Where did you go?”

Nova, shaken with the unsettling crescendo of those same four words, falls backwards. Ezra’s hand snaps out to stabilize her, but then they’re both falling, unwavering mirror images still tumbling into the ether.

“Ezra!” she cries again, trying to claw her way up to him, to see if he’s real, or if he’s something she’s created, and his hand squeezes in hers. And then, unceremoniously, they reach the bottom of their fall, the slam of it rocketing through Nova, the whiplash the worst she’s ever felt. Her mouth falls open and something like the ghost of a scream filters out of it, and then she’s face to face with Ezra again. He’s pressing something into her hand, but Nova can’t look at it head on.

His dark eyebrows knit in the middle, jaw clenched in that familiar, determined way. “I told you,” he whispers, voice vibrating after the impact of Nova’s fall, “Sparmau isn’t the only danger out there. Where you’re going will be worse.”

“What do you mean,” Nova cries, everything shifting in and out of blackness.

Ezra materializes for a split second before he’s gone. The memory of him, the profile of his face so identical to hers, keeps burning on. But when his mouth opens, the words stay. “Don’t throw it away.”

And with a scream to rival an entire slew of thunderstorms, Nova catapults awake.

*

“Novalise!” Fennec’s voice isn’t dreamy and dilated like everyone in Nova’s vision. Ezra has been wiped away, his face only existing in the map of her memory. She shoves herself up, clumsily navigating down and out of the crawlspace, swiping furiously at the tears that have collected on her cheeks. Slave I isn’t big—it’s roughly the same size as the Crest was—but it feels like it takes her an eternity to get there, scrambling towards Fennec’s voice.

“I’m here,” Nova says, as evenly as she can, but the second she straps in, Fennec’s yell makes perfect sense.

They’re surrounded. Somewhere between when Nova fell asleep and woke up, Slave I must have been jarred or forced out of warp, because they’re in the middle of deep space, completely unmoored. Around their ship, in a perfect, even circle, are Empire-esque starfighters, sharp and foreboding. Nova swallows.

“How much ammunition do we have left?”

Fennec takes a split second to glance over at Nova, and in her expression Nova can see it. She doesn’t think Fennec Shand has the same settings of fear that the rest of humanity does, but she’s shaken. This was unexpected, and after the last time this ship was out in the air, it used up a ton of remaining artillery.

Nova swallows. “We can fight them.”

Fennec’s jaw clenches. “There’s fifteen of them.”

And they’re not small, a tiny voice in the back of Nova’s head whispers, a continuation of Fennec’s clipped sentence. They’re destroyers, clearly renovated and reconstructed in the years since the Empire reigned, but they still hold the same amount of danger. Slave I doesn’t have the manpower, the firepower, to take on this many. Not at once, and not when there’s only two of them.

“Did you try to warp?”

“Yes,” Fennec answers, sturdy thumb hovering over the switch. “Something is draining the force out of the ship. They must have a frequency that’s jamming ours.”

Nova leans forward. “How much?”

“Ten rounds,” Fennec says, taking stock without needing to look at the numbers. “The gun in the back is broken. We have nearly full shields, but that won't mean shit when fifteen star destroyers start firing at once.”

Nova leans back, chewing on her lip. She feels entirely disconnected from her body. They’re surrounded by something dangerous, but all she can think about is Din and Bo-Katan, where Sparmau is, and every voice in her vision screaming at her to not throw it away. Nova forces herself to stare at the star destroyer in front of her until she feels the gravity of the situation, and then something crystallizes in front of her destruction. “Seismic charge.”

Fennec’s finger rests on the trigger sticking out of the dashboard. “We have one left. And it's not strong enough for fifteen. Even if we knock out half of them,” she says evenly, “they’re still jamming our signals. We don’t know which ship is doing that, or if it’s all of them. And then we’d be stuck here without our biggest defense, and they’d fire.”

Nova feels her heart race. It’s almost a relief, the groundedness of it. “Okay.”

Fennec lifts an eyebrow. “We also can’t do nothing.”

Nova turns, looking Fennec dead-on. “I know who’s on those ships.” She swallows. “It’s either the Order or Sparmau, and they want me, not you.”

“Don’t even start—”

“I’ll hail them. I’ll let myself be taken hostage. You get out of here, radio Wedge and the others, and come back for me.”

“No dice.”

“Fennec—”

“You want to be a martyr, right now, when you have so much left to lose?”

Nova’s heart sinks in her chest. “I’m not walking in there to die. I’m walking in there to buy us time.”

Fennec looks her over, traces the silhouette of Nova’s face, and then something smart and cunning sparks up in her eye. “No,” she says, yanking something shiny from over Nova’s head, “you’re not walking in there at all.”

Nova stares. Fennec grins. In her gloved hands are a wickedly glinting pair of handcuffs.

“Would they believe us?”

Fennec already has the right one around Nova’s wrist before she answers. “You’re a Jedi on a bounty hunter’s ship. A famous bounty hunter’s famous ship.” She clicks the left one into place. “I don’t keep friends publicly. It’s our best shot.”

Nova nods, surprisingly calm. “If we both get caught, then what?”

Fennec hails the largest destroyer, squaring her shoulders. “Then we take down fifteen starfighters with our bare hands.”

Nova shrugs, the ghost of a laugh bubbling up in her mouth. “Well,” she reasons, running her tongue over her teeth, “if anyone could.”

*

Fennec Shand has a reputation. The second the cloaked men laid eyes on her, Nova could feel it. She commands respect from scoundrels and scares the life out of everyone else, sometimes including them. Nova hangs her head, trying to memorize the path that the faceless men are leading her down. A long hallway, and then a quick right. A long, gradual turn to the left. She’s made it her priority to look defeated so she poses even less of a threat. Behind her, the familiar click of Fennec’s boots serve as a reminder that Novalise is getting out of this one.

Finally, after two more rights and a journey through a clear, hissing door, Nova’s strongarmed through the vestibule into a plexiglass cave. She looks up and around, clocking the weak points, trying to assess what could be used to her advantage, letting the man on her left push her down on the antiseptic cot in the middle of the room. The cell itself looks remarkably similar to the holding quarters in the annals of the Mandalorian palace, and Nova’s eyes skate over the architecture, her shoulders slumping.

Fennec roughed her up a little before they made the passage. It was at Nova’s request, and she didn’t seem to take any satisfaction from it, but Nova clocked the ferocity that hides under all of Fennec’s calm, and she let Fennec’s hands yank out one of the braids at the crown of her head. Right now, she can see Fennec’s expression through the clear plastic holding her in, her eyes drifting to Nova’s sleeve and then back to the set of her jaw, her smile upturning at the edges. It’s restrained enough for the guards to miss it, and pointed enough that Nova understands exactly what it means.

Luke’s lightsaber was strapped to the inside of Fennec’s belt, but Nova has the key to the handcuffs. They glow from around her wrists, and she knows they were designed to restrain the Force that courses through her like electricity.

Fennec turns to the right, her expression easily morphing back into the untouchable she wears most of the time, and Nova narrows her eyes. The guards that brought her in, faceless under the dark of their robes, have left. There’s someone just around the bend, hidden behind the singular obstruction.

“I want my credits.”

“Relax.” The other voice is smooth, controlled. It’s higher pitched than Nova was expecting—everyone she’s met that’s been associated with the First Order, besides Sparmau, has been male—but this voice doesn’t belong to Sparmau. It’s softer, less jagged. She doesn’t seem to be rejoicing with malice and glee. “You’ll get your money, bounty hunter.”

Fennec lifts her jaw. “You owe us, after the stunt you pulled with Solo.”

Nova’s eyebrows furrow before she can stop them, craning her neck to try and get a better vantage point. It’s useless. Her heart hammers, a warning sign that this is deeper than it was on the surface, and something that feels like anxiety flips in her stomach. Nova trusts Fennec, even knowing she’s a bounty hunter, that she has next to no allegiance to anyone but herself and the guild she used to serve. She’s proven her loyalty more than once, but mentioning Han—it settles strange.

“You weren’t an us back then,” the other woman says, evenly. “I stole Han from Fett, not you. You and I are finally even, after bringing her to me.”

Nova watches as Fennec’s eyes flick through the glass to study her. There’s not a single slip in her expression, just blankness and disinterest, but Nova can see her eyes widen, her chin dip just a millimeter. It’s not a lot, but it’s a promise enough.

“What do you plan to do with her?” Fennec asks, without a singular shred of curiosity in her voice.

The other woman stays silent. Nova can see a dark cape hang off her shoulders, the deepest navy blue she’s ever seen, with the imprint of roses shimmering only under direct light, midnight blue and expensive. This is unexpected. This woman isn’t Sparmau, and she doesn’t reek of the Empire. She doesn’t seem like a bounty hunter, and her obstructed composure hasn’t wavered once. “Does it matter?”

Fennec’s eyes flick away. “No,” she answers indifferently, “but she’s far too powerful for the slave trade. Dangerous, if you use her correctly. I wouldn’t make her disappear. I’d use her as a weapon.”

Nova wets her lips, sitting a little straighter with the signal of weapon. Fennec’s still with her, the code rippling flatly off her tongue. When she leaves, she’s going to Hoth to pick up Wedge and the assorted cavalry. Nova sticks her thumb up her sleeve, and she feels it. Stuck to the fob of the key, so tiny she wouldn't have noticed it if it wasn’t pointed out, is a tracking device.

Slowly, dangerously, a small smile spreads across her face.

“Here,” the other woman says, and a bag of credits tosses through the air. It’s heavy, Nova can tell, even though Fennec catches it with ease. “Your credits.”

Fennec opens it to count them, but her expression doesn’t change.

“Extra,” the voice says, “to sweeten the deal.”

Fennec looks back up. “What do you want?”

The woman steps forward, but Nova’s view is still blocked. “Ask your boss to reconsider the trade.”

“He won’t,” Fennec answers. “He’s a bounty hunter, not a trafficker. He won’t touch spice, and he certainly won’t touch humans. I’m here, bringing her to you, because you and I had unfinished business. The Daimyo has nothing to do with this.”

Nova can see the traces of a silhouette as the other woman raises her chin. “A weapon?”

Fennec nods, with a cold smirk. “A weapon. Be careful.” She looks right back at Nova, eyes burning an unspoken promise. “She bites.” And with that, she turns on her heel and walks away.

The other woman finally steps into view. She’s regal, that’s the best way Nova can describe it. She’s taller than Nova is, her curves less pronounced, her shoulders back. Her eyes have a kindness around the edges, like she’s starting to soften from whatever depravity she’s lived before, and her lips are painted a bright shade of red. With a flick of her hand, the door opens. Nova leans back, trying to feign brokenness.

“Hello Novalise,” she says.

Nova squints. “Then you’re not with Sparmau.” It’s not a question. And Nova really didn’t think the blockade was Sparmau’s doing in the first place—it was dramatic, but not flashy, and besides, if it were Sparmau here, Din and Bo-Katan would be chained up right here next to her.

The other raises an eyebrow. “It seems we have a common enemy.” She doesn’t look overtly threatening, but the calmness of her response to Fennec’s insinuation of slave trading is far more sinister. “But no, you’re not here because of Ladmeny Sparmau. Although I am hopeful you’ll join our cause instead.”

Nova’s eyes narrow. She’s trying to stall this, drag it out, because a jailbreak at this moment wouldn’t be fruitful without Fennec and the rest of the assorted gang of Rebels behind her, but she’s still wasting valuable time. “If you’re with the First Order instead, my answer is an equally as vehement no.”

She smiles, her lips parting to reveal pearlescent white teeth. “You’re smart. But no, the answer is I am not the First Order, nor am I directly associated with them.”

Nova raises an eyebrow. “Yet you have me in captivity, like Sparmau, and you’re planning to use me as a weapon, like the First Order. So you’re hardly the lesser of three evils.”

“I,” the other woman says, finally, that smile still on her face, “am Qi’ra.”

Nova feels a volt of electricity through the handcuffs, and she suppresses a wince. “And you’re a bounty hunter?”

“No,” Qi’ra sighs, leaning against the doorframe. “Not a bounty hunter. I’ve had lots of experience in import/export, though, and you’re incredibly valuable in my line of work.”

“Good,” Nova says, “glad we’ve determined you’re not after my head on a platter to get credits in your pocket.”

Qi’ra studies her. “You don’t seem to mind being in the company of bounty hunters, though, do you, Novalise? Boba Fett, Din Djarin…” she trails off, and then she stomps a pedal on the floor, and Nova jolts backward with the shock of it. The glass pressing against her back moves, and she’s met with Fennec’s bloodied face. It’s such a shock, so opposite to what she expected, that Nova jumps. Fennec rolls her eyes, a nasty bruise already blossoming around her right one, and Nova whips back around to face Qi’ra. “...Fennec Shand,” she finishes. “I’ve spent far too long in the shadows of Rebel forces to not know where everyone’s allegiances lie. All it took was a few credits and a little cajoling to get the citizens of Tatooine to spill that secret to me.”

For the first time, Nova feels panic. She tries to swallow it down, but with the knowledge that Fennec is chained and incapacitated behind her, without leaving any sort of beacon or message to Wedge, the calvary isn’t coming. ANd they’ve already chewed through nearly half of Sparmau’s three days. Nova can feel it seep out from her chest, roll down her back, ice-cold. “Okay,” she says, as evenly as she can manage, “what do you want from me?”

Qi’ra looks back at her. Nova can’t quite get a read on what she’s thinking, and the handcuffs cinch tighter around her wrists, sending another spark out, rattling up her arms. “Have you ever heard of the Crimson Dawn?”

Nova’s blood runs cold, even though she’s not sure why. “I’m not joining you. But let Fennec go. Please—”

“I don’t want to recruit you,” Qi’ra says, holding up her hand for emphasis as she interrupts. “I don’t want to sell you into the slave trade either, because you’re far too strong to waste your life in servitude. But there’s so much more than just good or evil.”

Nova squints at her, lost.

Qi’ra sighs. “I’m not the bad guy, Novalise.”

Nova lifts her chin as the cuffs emit an even higher shock, reeling backward. “You’re not making a very strong case for yourself.”

“I wanted Vader gone,” Qi’ra says cocking her head to the side, “Palpatine, too. I orchestrated the war between the Hutts and the Empire. I let Han Solo escape once, become the Rebel I always knew him to be. I don’t want to see more heroes die. That’s not what drives me. But I have allegiances in dark places just as I have them in the light.”

Nova feels her body shaking. Her eyes flick around the room, trying to figure out what she’s missing, what other signs that point to hidden clues like the plexiglass behind her being smoke and mirrors. She glances at Fennec, who looks far more pissed than she does hurt, and Nova clenches her teeth together. “Get to the point.”

Qi’ra smiles again, a sharp one, but her eyes still don’t match all the darkness. “I want to make a deal.”

“Hmm,” Nova manages, trying to force the electricity back long enough to hold her ground. Her feet are unsteady under the shock of it, but she rocks until she’s standing. “I’m not very agreeable. I don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Not a terrorist,” Qi’ra says, spreading her hands out. She’s graceful. Elegant, even threatening. “I’m an opportunist. And I know you’re an optimist, so I think you’ll want to take me up on my offer.”

Nova closes her eyes, trying to fight off the residual shock still prickling and stinging up and down her body. “I want you to let Fennec go first.”

Qi’ra clicks her tongue and shakes her head. “No. Because when you hear what I’m offering, you’ll forget all about Fennec Shand.”

Nova’s anger flares. Behind her, she knows Fennec is likely looking indifferent, unfazed, and she’s staying that way. Nova doesn’t trade the lives of her friends for anything, no matter how sweet the deal is. “I doubt that.

Qi’ra presses something on her wrist, and a hologram projects upward, swirling through the invisible dust in the air. “I have connections through Crimson Dawn, you know. I have plenty of the galaxy’s finest warriors who answer to my beck and call. I’ve played for both sides long enough that I can break something wherever I apply pressure. And, lucky for you, I want to apply pressure in your favor.” She flicks at her hologram, and it zooms in. When it focuses, Nova’s heart leaps and catches in her throat. “Ladmeny Sparmau has your husband and friend held hostage on Coruscant. She’s planning to make you chase them through the planet, but I know her endgame. I know where she wants you to meet her, but I’m not telling you where until you give me what I want.”

Nova swallows. “How do you know that,” she manages, her voice as steady as she can make it, “when you said you weren’t with Sparmau?”

“Friends in powerful places,” Qi’ra reminds her. Nova’s stomach roils as she sees where Sparmau is—in the middle of the rubble that once was the Jedi Temple, Din and Bo-Katan lying unconscious at her feet. “She won’t kill them. She wants you more than she wants to make them suffer.”

Nova blinks furiously, trying to keep the tears at bay. “What do you want,” she says evenly.

Qi’ra doesn’t look gleeful. She looks rueful, like she’s disappointed it’s gotten to this point. “Fennec Shand. And Mandalore.”

Nova sighs, exasperated. “What about Mandalore?”

“The planet is in the middle of the Outer Rim. Most of it is abandoned and still burning from the siege. It would be the best hub for trafficking spice, since Fennec is so adamant that her boss won’t let it be dealt through Tatooine.”

Nova looks back at Fennec.

“Take it,” Fennec warns, voice muffled by the glass.

Nova faces Qi’ra. “You want me to surrender the rest of my home to your syndicate, and put Mandalorians through even more destruction?”

“No,” Qi’ra answers, “I want both of us to help each other.”

“Take the deal, Novalise,” Fennec insists, her voice slightly raised. She wants Nova to get out, to sacrifice her for the promise of Din and Bo-Katan. Nova’s heart lurches when she realizes Fennec—reformed assassin Fennec—is letting herself get sold into whatever Qi’ra’s running so that Nova can rescue who she loves most. “Take it. I can handle myself.”

“No dice,” Nova says. Fennec slaps what sounds like her fist against the glass, but Nova doesn’t flinch. “You want to live in the grey area, Qi’ra? This isn’t grey. This is sacrifice, and slavery, and the kind of thing I have spent the entirety of my life fighting against. I don’t care if you wanted Vader defeated and Palpatine dead. I don’t care that you used to run with Han Solo, and that you let him go. This is inhumane.”

“Nova—”

“Keep your fucking hands off Mandalore,” Nova says evenly, “but I’m yours. Take me. Let Fennec go, and take me.”

“Novalise.” Fennec sounds livid. She pounds against the glass again, and Nova hears it start to splinter. Qi’ra, for the first time, looks shaken. “You promised.”

Nova sets her jaw, ignoring the shocks rocketing up her body. She can feel herself weakening, and she struggles until she falls back down against the cot. “Let Fennec go, and don’t touch Mandalore, but take me. Use me, sell me, I don’t care.”

Qi’ra studies her like she can’t quite believe what she’s hearing. “You choose an assassin over your husband and best friend?”

Nova does her best to pretend that doesn’t break her heart in her chest. When her eyes close, her body writhing against the shocks, the sounds of Fennec pounding on the glass fade away. She’s back on Naator, pink skies iridescent and beautiful, a breeze rippling through the yellow trees. She’s standing with Din again, her mouth an inch away from his, everything else disappearing. She sees flashes of it, all of it—the lives they lived, the love they’ve held onto—and knows that if she doesn’t make it out of this, Fennec will go after him and Bo-Katan with the full force of the Alliance. Nova lets it all rush over her, every single memory of Din, of earning his trust, seeing his face, kissing his mouth, getting to worship and devour every inch of him, loving Grogu, the Force coursing through her veins, the faces of all the Jedi before her and the ones after, the fires and waters and the space in between, the feeling of barrel rolling through Kicker, Wedge’s embraces, Din’s lips on hers, grogu’s tiny hand on her cheek, and then, finally, her parents.

And right as she’s about to let the shock take her, shake everything that makes Nova the woman she is right out of her body, Din appears next to her. Ezra materializes next to him. Nova stares, eyes flooding with the tears she tried so hard to fight off, and they speak at the same time.

“Don’t throw it away.”

Nova’s eyes fly open at the same time Fennec’s fist punches clean through the glass, bloodied and broken. Qi’ra, shocked, stumbles backwards, and Nova pushes her arm against the ground, hauling herself back to her feet.

“Let me tell you something about me,” Nova manages, strangled, still fighting against the electricity determined to debase her. “I don’t make deals that sacrifice people I care about, no matter where my heart lies. I’ve lived in the grey, Qi’ra, with men that nearly killed me. I survived the loss of my parents, of myself, of nearly everyone I love. And,” she says, with a Herculean effort, fighting with every bone in her body to stand up straight, “I’m not a weapon you can wield. I’m not just a Jedi. I’m a Mandalorian. And before either of those, I’m Rebel scum.”

Qi’ra steps backward again as glass shatters around Fennec’s hand. Nova can’t look back at her, but she’s praying to every star above that Fennec is still conscious, or at the very least alive.

“Nova,” Fennec croaks, and somehow, even with her head splitting open, she knows exactly what’s hidden in her voice. “No martyrs.”

Nova raises both of her hands in the cuffs, closes her eyes, and wills the Force to overpower the electricity.

Luke’s lightsaber flies through the hole punched in the glass into her hand.

Qi’ra runs. Nova cuts the handcuffs free and chases her, but when her cape disappears through a hidden door, Nova turns on her heel and slashes through Fennec’s cell instead, trying to shoulder both of their weight.

“You think I have a flair for the dramatic?” Nova says, her voice strained and cracked, slinging Fennec’s slim hip against hers. “I’ve never punched glass with my fist, Fennec.”

Fennec’s withering expression doesn’t quite have the same strength it usually does, but it’s pretty damn close. “I told you we’d fight them off with our bare hands.”

Nova rolls her eyes just as the alarms start to sound, and they stumble back down the hallway, retracing the steps Nova memorized, running as fast as they can handle towards the gangplank. The rest of the starfighters are gone, and as Nova skids to a halt at the ede where gangplank meets space, she realizes that Slave I is too.

“No,” she manages. “No, no, no—”

“‘Scape pod,” Fennec slurs through a mouthful of blood, but Nova knows on a ship like this, there’s just one—for the person in charge. Everyone else is expected to be a sacrificial lamb. As if on cue, Qi’ra zooms past them, headed off into the wide expanse of space. Nova cranes her neck backward, trying to gaugue how farr off the guards are, but both she and Fennec start to collapse in on each other like dying stars. Nova can feel the tears gather and flood, looking out into the nothingness.

“Please,” Nova whispers, to no one in particular, dizzy with the aftershocks, failing to keep both of them standing. When she opens her eyes, it’s still just the blank expanse of space.

And then, like divinely conjured, two ships pop out of warp.

One is the missing Slave I.

The other is a very familiar X-Wing.

“You wanted help,” a voice booms out, and Nova lets herself crumple and cry. “Wish granted, rebel girl.”

Nova and Fennec slide to the end just as the guards start advancing, tipping into the wide mouth of Boba Fett’s ship, whisking the two of them out of the blast zone. In his X-Wing, effortless, Wedge unloads all of his artillery on the advancing guards, and Nova straps Fennec into the closer chair, stumbling towards the cockpit. “Boba,” she calls.

“Nope.”

In the pilot’s seat is a grinning, adrenaline fueled Cara Dune.

Nova cries, and Cara catches her with one insanely strong arm. “Strap in.” As they jump into warp, Wedge’s voice filters through the comm.

“Where are they?”

Nova’s head is dizzied, slumping back against the headrest. “Coruscant.”

Wedge is silent for a second, and then his reply cackles through. “I don’t think I’m authorized to say this,” he says, “but may the Force be with us.”

*

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i've apologized in the end notes for the last three uploads for being absent, and i've promised the same amount of times that i'm back, just to disappear again. since January, i've had three kidney infections, one of which put me in the hospital with the beginning stages of sepsis. without trying to sound melodramatic, my doctor told me i was an hour away from dying. i've been recovering from the trauma from that whole experience, and i've also gotten two more kidney infections, which is why i've been so MIA and inconsistent. i am hopefully on the mend, and i'm praying to update every Saturday again, but with how sick i've been and starting work full-time, i've been stretched very thin. thank you all so much for your well wishes and love. i cannot even begin to express how much it means to me. i will try to update weekly, but if i don't, please check my tiktok (padmeamydala) and my tumblr (amiedala) for any communications of delay. i love you all so dearly, and i hope this chapter was worth the extended wait! <3

CHAPTER TWENTY WILL (hopefully) BE UP AT 7:30 PM ON SATURDAY, MARCH 3RD!!!

xoxo, amelie

[onceupona-chaos]

Why keep an open mind about Elain

(And why her book will slap hard)

When I was writing this one-shot right here, I read a few posts about Elain as a spy, some of them liked the idea, others didn't. Which is totally ok, if you don't, of course. I also reread a lot of scenes from the books to understand better how this could play out.

But I came across some comments about how Elain being a spy would make her "lose her characterization" or be "out of character". So I wanted to talk a little about it. This post will be discussing those comments specifically and why you should keep an open mind about Elain.

NOTE: As usual, sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language. I really hope I made myself clear. If you have any comments, I would love to hear them. Be kind!

1. Elain as a character

The first reason I don't believe that argument is because ACOSF made it clear that we know very little about Elain. So how can we say it would be something out of character for her when we barely know her as a character?

So far, we only have other characters points of view on Elain: a person who has a sweet temper. But ACOSF came to tell us that there is another side of her. Nesta expected Elain to cry because of Graysen. She didn't. Elain didn't back down from her fight with Nesta, she didn't hesitate when it came to the Trove or the Hewn City, she laughed when Nesta told her to fuck off. In every single of those moment, Elain's behavior is emphasized by one reaction of the others: surprise.

"You think I’m to blame for his death?” Challenge filled each word. Challenge—from Elain, of all people.

"Elain showed some teeth," I observed. "I wasn't expecting that."

And this is nothing new. Look at what we have in ACOFAS:

and Elain—Elain—had taken up Azriel’s dagger and killed the King of Hybern instead.

The last two books highlight that 1) we don't know everything about her and 2) we expect one behavior from her.

But most importantly: she often doesn't correspond to what it is expected of her, especially in ACOSF.

And then we have this:

With time and safety, perhaps we'll see a different side of her emerge.

But I also think we haven't yet seen all she has to offer.

And before this makes someone think Elain will not get a book because we don't have much on her character, this is exactly what books are for. To develop a character. Before ACOSF, Nesta didn't have much development either. We had seen ACOFAS lay the background for her, the same way ACOSF laid the background for Elain's story.

Elain will surprise us. Sarah is practically screaming that at this point. So before judge something as out of character, we need to have in mind that Elain will have her arc and by the end of it, she will be different, she will grow. Which leads me to:

2. In order to be developed, characters need to change

Before ACOSF came out, lots of people said Nesta would never be a warrior, especially because of this line:

And why must I train at all? I am no warrior nor do I desire to be. (ACOWAR)

And I understand. I really do. But we went from that to Nesta not only becoming a Valkyrie, but also thinking about starting a small unit of females. Yes, that line is back in ACOWAR. However, in ACOSF Gwyn and Emerie said the exactly same thing:

Gwyn gestured to Nesta's fighting leathers, the overlapping scales. "I'm not a warrior".

Emerie's face yielded nothing, as blattle-hardened as Azriel's. "I'm not interested in a warrior's training".

There's a difference between developing a character and doing something out of character.

Elain already is passing through an internal change, which means SJM is preparing her for her arc. So we have to keep in mind that Elain will pass through challenges, changes in her journey, where she will learn new lessons, abilities. She will face and deal with her traumas and flaws, because she will be developed as a character. Of course, her essence will still be there, but in order to grow, she needs to change as well.

At this point lots of things happened to her, now we will see Elain making things happen. Changes like that are inevitable, necessary, but not out of character.

Now, if Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie became warriors, why would it be so out of character for Elain to become a spy?

Personally, I think if Elain became a warrior, that could be considered out of character, because Sarah already told us that her strength comes from a different place:

Elain had always been gentle and sweet—and I had considered it a different sort of strength. A better strength. To look at the hardness of the world and choose, over and over, to love, to be kind. She had been always so full of light.

Of course, this is Feyre's Pov, but is also SJM talking about Elain's nature.

We have to understand the difference between characters' point of view and what SJM is trying to tell us. For example, Nesta in ACOSF had one perception of Elain ("she is like a dog"), but SJM emphasized Nesta's perception as not correspondent to Elain's behavior. How? Using that scene where Elain talks about Nesta's dancing. in that moment, Cassian and the readers realized Nesta's point of view was biased, non correspondent to what Elain was showing us in that scene.

I'm saying that because there's a difference between narrator and author. But this is another discussion entirely.

But I truly believe from what we have seen so far, Elain isn't the warrior type. And despite the fact that we had just read ACOSF, therefore another book about warriors training doesn't sound so appealing, from what we had seen until now, Elain's has potencial (build up) to go to another direction, one that we haven't seen yet.

3. Elain already has what it takes

I want to look at this:

I wondered if Rhys’s spymaster often got his information through stone-cold manners as much as stealth and shadow.

My sister Elain can convince anyone to do anything with a few smiles.

For the record, Feyre said this in ACOWAR and these both scenes are very close to each other.

Spying is not all about shadows and stealth. Azriel works from the shadows, but if Elain can be so lovely and convincing that anyone would do anything for her, she could be a different kind of spy. And with her Seer powers, she could be a valuable one. As much or even more than the Night Court spymaster. Look at this:

Shadowsingers are rare—coveted by courts and territories across the world for their stealth and predisposition to hear and feel things others can’t.

We know Elain can be almost as stealthy as Azriel. And she is a Seer, which means she can See and hear things others can't, too. Not to mention we already have seen that she is observant and knows how to keep a secret.

Elain pushed, “We keep it secret—we send the servants away [...] No one will know.”

“I think she’s got you beat for secret-keeping.”

Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Not only she is observant, but also knows how to read people, to understand them. Look at these scenes where Nesta said basically the same thing, but Feyre didn't understand her. Elain on the other hand...

With Feyre:

“Father would want you to—”

“Don’t you finish that sentence.” Despite the sound shield around us, there was nothing to block the view of my sister baring her teeth. The view of her fingers curling into invisible claws. A scene. This was about to become a scene in the worst way. (ACOFAS)

With Elain:

"[...] if Father were here—”

“Don’t ever mention him.” Nesta bared her teeth, but kept her voice low. "Never fucking mention him again.”

Pain slowly washed over Elain’s face. And understanding. “Is that what this is all about? Father?” Silver lined Elain’s eyes, but her voice remained steady, sure. “There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta." (ACOSF)

Elain understood exactly what was going on with Nesta.

Nothing is more telling to me than this, and I highly doubt SJM didn't want to show us not only Nesta's internal issues, but how Elain can understand and read very others very easily as well.

Elain also understood when Feyre wasn't sure about buying gifts. And not get me started on Azriel's bonus chapter, where it's emphasized repeatedly that they can read and comprehend each other without necessarily saying what they meant. This shows a connection between them, yes, but also a skill.

Just imagine how valuable and rare she would be for the Night Court.

And the best part is it wouldn't be out of character, because she already presented those features. Besides, Elain can be lovely, delicate and be a bad ass spy (or whatever she wishes to, tbh) . Even better: she can use those characteristics in her favor.

Do not forget what Rhysand said: Elain is sweet and she is not afraid of get her hands dirty. We just haven't seen that yet, because SJM will show us that in her book. Simple as that.

4. Elain being a spy attends SJM's pattern

In every book (or series) so far we had a female character learning something new. Feyre learned how to control her powers (and to read), Nesta learned how to be a warrior. I think it's safe to say that Elain will learn something in order to be developed as a character.

You could argue she could learn anything, which is fair. But in ACOSF we learned that Elain can be stealthy as well. SJM emphasized it again and again, and there is no way in hell she did that just for fun. It's safe to say by now that even if she doesn't become a spy, this ability will play a role in her book.

A few examples that we all know too well by now:

Elain spoke from the doorway, having appeared so silently that they all twisted toward her, “Using me.”

"You came,” Elain said behind her, and Nesta started, not having heard her sister approach. She scanned Elain from head to toe, wondering if she’d been taking lessons in stealth either from Azriel or the two half-wraiths she called friends.

She'd leave her gift amongst his other, opened presents, subtle and unnoticed.

What is curious is that stealth is associated with Azriel, but also with Nuala and Cerridwen, Elain's friends. (Here, I highly recommend this amazing post for more on this friendship and what it means to Elain’s future).

I don't have a doubt the next book is about Elain, it will be her book. So you can't tell me the fact that her friends and love interest are spies is just a coincidence or that won't mean anything. Not when Elain herself has already started to show that she can be just as stealthy and subtle as any of them.

In this scenario, we have:

Elain learning how to be a spy with Azriel, whilst they work together to find the Trove and help each other to heal from their issues.

A female main character learning something new with the help from her love interest whilst they work together to solve a problem connected to the main plot and help each oher to heal from their issues.

I PRESENT YOU THE SJM'S PATTERN.

I know some people like or don't like this theory because that would mean Elain would have a connection to Azriel or because they don't like her becoming "similar to Azriel".

But the thing is: they already share a connection, they know each other for almost two years now and most of their interactions happened "off-screen", so they don't need her to become a spy to want to be together. They already do.

And mostly important, she wouldn't become similar to Azriel, because Elain already has the required features. We don't know much about her, but so far what we do know is: she is stealthy and a good secret keeper. She knows how to read and understand people. She can hear and see things others can't, because she is a Seer, and she can be convincing af.

Most of those were emphasized again in ACOSF concomitantly with Elain's another side. (Tell me again the next book isn't about her).

And again: a female character learning something with her love interest is SJM's pattern. We've just read a book that follows this exactly structure. Are we going to say Nesta or Feyre lost their characterization because they learned and now share the same abilities as Cassian and Rhys?

SJM already answered that for us in ACOSF:

“Does it undermine my image as a warrior to be with you?”

“No. Does it undermine Feyre’s when she’s seen with Rhys?”

This is so telling, I literally stopped my reading at this. We tend to put this passage aside because of what comes next (Cassian being very discreet and screaming he's Nesta's mate to every single soul in Velaris to hear), which is totally fair. But right there, SJM is telling us that female characters sharing abilities with their love interests is no reason to undermine them. On the contrary, in her books this is a way for them to heal togheter.

Knowing SJM, Elain being a spy along with Azriel, Nuala and Cerridwen wouldn't be nothing new. We have seen this story over and over again.

We have so much build up for this, I could go on and on and on. And before someone says this won't work because Azriel has to stay away from her, just take a second to think about how much tension we would get if they are forced to work together in order to find the Trove (or any other reason that SJM will come up with). We'll have a story full of secrets, tension, drama, angst, passion, desire, love. Things too easy don't make a good story.

But at the end, even if she does not become a spy, I just think we have many possibilities for Elain and an amazing story ahead of us. I really want people to keep an open mind about her and her book and not judge too harsh amazing possibilities as out of character. If Nesta hadn't became a warrior, we wouldn't have known the Valkyries. So maybe, when you judge a possibility like that, you are closing yourself to an amazing journey.

And also, Nesta was once judged and hated. A lot of people ended up changing their minds, which is great because she is awesome. So I think we already learned that lesson.

We will see another side of Elain emerge and she will surprise us. That's not me, that's SJM. She already told us that. Repeatedly.

All of this just to say: keep an open mind about Elain. She has what it takes and will surprise us - and I can't wait to see her becoming a badass.

[brookecuzyes]

three years of you. — tear myself apart

Damiano David x GN!Musician!Reader

Main Masterlist — 3yrs Masterlist

Summary: it’s only been a couple of days, which were full of tears and regret. however, that regret wasn’t on their part until a simple comment was made. (Part 3 of a series)

Word Count: ≈3.4k

Warnings: cursing, alcohol intake, angst (Anyone drinking alcohol in this chapter is of the legal drinking age in the United States, which is 21.)

A/N: thank y’all for reading! this has already gained a lot of readers and so i am happy about that. love you guys sm 💕 songs included in this fic are not mine. any characters mentioned are not mine, and belong to their respected owners. and ofc, i don’t own the celebrities either. i do check comments/reblogs, so please be respectful!!

———————————————————————-

You’ve got this, you can do it.

You tried consoling yourself. Normally, he would be here to help calm you down— or at least call if he could physically be there. He’d be there if you were about to have a panic attack, he’d be there to make sure that you were OK.

But you aren’t.

An entire audience full of strangers who listened to the songs, who listened to your heartbreak. Now, they get to watch your heart break live.

He wouldn’t— no, couldn’t— be there to comfort you. He couldn’t be there to tell you that everything will be fine. He fucked up, he’s the one who messed up that relationship…

“…then why did you show up?”

——

Glasses clinked. Chatter was taking place all around. Honestly, it was a little overwhelming.

You sat down at the booth with the whole band. Saturday had rolled around, which you hadn’t noticed since you were lost in an almost depressive state where time was non-existent. However, the karaoke bar definitely woke you up.

“Alright, guys,” Luke, the lead guitarist, said, holding a couple of drinks in his hands. “Tonight is the night! The tradition kicks in once again, and Monday we start recording. Let’s celebrate and relax.” Julie, the lead singer and the girlfriend of Luke, followed behind him, setting more drinks down on the table. Flynn, the unofficial manager of the band, let out a loud, “woo!”, making everyone laugh. All of you grabbed a glass and clinked them together, all taking a sip at the same time. Your face crunched when you processed the drink.

“Jesus, Luke, what is this?” you questioned.

“Alcohol,” he said blatantly.

“Yeah, no shit,” you shot back, shaking off the effects.

“I just said that we’re relaxing— that’s exactly what alcohol does!”

“Or maybe you're just an alcoholic?” Alex joked, taking a sip of his drink.

“I don’t drink that much.” Luke defended.

“That’s what an alcoholic would say.” The whole band started laughing at the ongoing banter. It isn’t often when Alex made witty remarks like that, and everyone always enjoyed it when he did.

On another note, you felt as if you absolutely needed this drink. Given what’s been going on this last week, you felt like you deserved it. Though, you knew you’d regret this tomorrow. You knew Alex was keeping an eye out for you. The rest of the band didn’t know yet, they just knew that something happened, which is why you left Italy so early. They were all confused, but didn’t ask upon it when Alex glared daggers at them when they tried. So, thankfully, they did back off. But, it doesn’t mean that they weren’t concerned.

You had been talking, making it seem as if everything was fine, but Alex’s heart broke when he picked up on it. However, with the alcohol about to course through your veins, it would be harder from him to be able to pick up on whether you were drunk or going through it. Regardless, he was going to make sure that you were having fun and not thinking about your ex.

“Hey,” Flynn said, “why don’t we start the karaoke? I think we all have enough alcohol in our systems to do this.”

“I vote for Alex to go first!” You said, raising your hand. “Do Micheal Bublé.”

“Woah, hold up, I never even said-“

“It doesn’t matter. What I say goes. Now go.” He sighed, laughing as he stood up from the booth. He went over to the guy and told him what song he wanted to do. They got everything set up, and Alex got on stage.

“Let’s go, Alex!” You cheered on, making him smile and blush just a bit— though that wasn’t entirely visible from where you guys decided to sit.

The song started playing, and Alex started singing. It took you a few seconds to recognize the song but you figured it out.

“Oh, he’s singing Feeling Good. I love that song,” you whispered to Reginald, the bassist, who was sitting next to you. He looked to you over his shoulder, smiling. He hadn’t seen you so “out there” since you got back. It was nice to see you getting back to normal. Though, he didn’t actually know why you weren’t normal to begin with.

And I’m feeling… good.

You cheered Alex on again, dancing along to the beat with the whole band. Alex didn’t sing much, but when he did you cherished those moments. That’s why he songs Now or Never and Stand Tall on the band’s very first album are your favorite.

“God, I love his voice,” Reggie said, as if he read your mind.

“Yeah, and look at him,” you pointed out the way his body is moving with the music. The way he was just lost in a musical haze. It was enchanting. “That’s what his anxiety covers up.”

Alex soon finished, hopping off of the stage with an embarrassed smile on his face.

“Oh, don’t be embarrassed, babe,” you said, noticing his expression. “That was the best performance tonight by far. Not even Julie could compare to how amazing that was.”

“Thanks, Y/N,” she said, drawing out the ‘thanks’ in a sarcastic way. You raised your glass to her.

“Anytime, Jules,” you replied, raising your eyebrow and taking a sip. She laughed, letting the comment you made slip— for now at least.

“Hey, I have an idea!” Flynn exclaimed. “How about we take a couple photos and post them to our accounts? Y’know, to celebrate this very special moment.” Everyone collectively agreed. Pictures were taken left and right— and others were taken throughout the night, too— and each person had a different photo that they were each going to post. You had decided that you were going to post yours now, not wanting to forget later on tonight or tomorrow.

You captioned it:

Just continuing a small tradition tonight with music and alcohol. maybe if he lets me, i’ll post Alex singing Feeling Good 😏🤍

It was perfect and you posted it, after letting everyone see it to make sure it was OK. Within minutes people already saw it and were liking and commenting. You made sure to turn your phone off before it started going crazy. Julie and Luke decided to go up and do a duet with each other. They choose Little Do You Know. Their voices were beautiful singing the song. They mashed just so perfectly. You recorded them, knowing that you would 100% show them this at their wedding. (They aren’t engaged, but it’s bound to happen sooner or later.)

You weren’t paying attention to the notifications spamming the top of your screen, though you did look back once to see if the camera was aligned with their bodies. That’s when you saw a specific notification. One thing that you absolutely forgot when you posted that photo was that Måneskin could still see your posts. The only reason you remembered was because Victoria responded to your post.

Ahhh you look amazing!!!😘

The second you saw it, you put your head in your hands, mentally slapping yourself. If Victoria saw it, then the rest of the band is going to see, meaning Damiano would see it. Fuck, you thought to yourself.

“Hey, Y/N, are you alright?” Alex asked, placing a hand on your arm. You looked up at him showing him the comment. “I don’t understand.”

“Victoria commented. Meaning Damiano’s probably gonna see it.”

“Not if he’s blocked.”

“I didn’t block him, we’re still mutuals.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know, Alex. Maybe I just haven’t gotten to it yet.” You realized the angered tone in your voice, not meaning to be rude to Alex. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap.”

“No, it’s okay. Hey, maybe if he does end up seeing it, he’ll just be jealous. Damiano will see everything he’s missing out on.”

“What is Damiano missing out on?” Julie asked, sitting back down with Luke.

“Oh, it’s nothing-“ Alex started, but you cut him off.

“I left Italy because Damiano was talking to another girl. It caused too many problems, so I left.” Everyone went silent. Everyone’s eyes softened at you, unsure of what to say.

“Y/N…”

“It’s fine. I’m here now. It doesn’t matter.” Silence fell once again, especially on Alex’s behalf. He knew you weren’t fine, he knew it mattered— whether you said it or not. “Sorry if I kinda killed tonight’s vibe.”

“N-No, you’re fine,” Reggie said. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Yeah, you didn’t ruin anything. I am glad that you told us, though. We’ve been worried.” Luke said, putting his arms on the table and leaning forward just a bit. You felt your phone vibrate but didn’t think anything of it— probably just another person on Instagram.

“Sorry that I made you guys worry. I just wasn’t sure how to bring it up. It’s just been a hard couple of days. This shit isn’t easy,” you explained, mumbling the last part. Everyone stayed silent, none wanting to make something worse.

“Luke, why don’t you and the guys go grab some food?” Julie suggested, placing a hand on Luke’s back, turning her attention back to you.

“Oh, yeah. Guys, let’s go,” Luke said, getting the hint. The boys got up and left, each giving you a sympathetic look. The girls, on the other hand, all stayed behind.

“Alright, listen up,” Flynn started. “Tonight is not the night to mope around. You can do that tomorrow when you’re hungover.”

“Right now,” Julie jumped in, “you’re gonna forget about that asshole, get your ass out there, and sing your heart out, dammit!” Your eyes widened at the girls’ sternness. A smile started creeping from your lips, Julie and Flynn following behind you. Soon enough, the three of you started laughing your asses off.

“Ok, ok, I’m convinced. I’ll have fun tonight. Thanks,” you said, trying to shake off the laughter so you can speak. You grabbed your drink, taking a sip of it. It was the same drink Luke got you earlier. Damn it, Luke. You shook your head to shake off the kick the drink had. Flynn chuckled at your antics, taking a sip of her, not as strong, drink. The guys soon came back with some snack-type items in their hands.

“Are we all good now?” Alex asked, setting down the plate on the table and looking your way.

“Yep, we’re all good now,” Julie answered, taking a sip of her drink. You chuckle at her, reaching for some of the food on the table. “But, Y/N’s about to sing for us.”

“Woah, wait, now?”

“What did I say? You’re gonna sing your heart out.”

You groaned, slumping back in your set in a joking— yet, not entirely joking— way. “Julie, I didn’t realize that you meant right now.”

“Ok, so? Get up there, Y/N! C’mon it’ll be fun.” You contemplated. I should go, you thought, it could be fun.

“Fine, I’ll go,” you announced, getting up from your seat. Reggie and Flynn got up from theirs so you could get out. When you got up, you turned to Reginald.

“C’mon, you’re doing this with me,” you said, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the guy supervising the karaoke.

“I didn’t really wanna sing right now. Nerves, y’know?” Reggie explained.

“So? Reggie, I get that nerves are real, but there’s no way in hell I’m doing this alone.” You opened up a book full of songs, and was going through the selection.

“Why couldn’t you just get someone else?”

“Because I think our voices clash very well together.” You turned your head to him and gave him a smile. He shyly smiled back. You looked back at the book and held it up to Reggie. “What about this one?” you asked, pointing to a song. Reggie read it and smiled.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” he said, grabbing the pen and marking off the song and writing your names. You stood back, waiting for him to finish. When he did, he turned around.

“Alright, I’ve got us down. Wanna head up?” He asked, holding his hand out with a playful smile.

“Let’s do it,” you said, grabbing a hold of his hand, him taking you up the stairs and into the stage.

When you walked up, you saw the screen in front of you turn on, switching to the lyrics of the song. The lights were bright, but it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. You saw some people stare at you, but it was mainly the rest of the band. Reginald walked to the microphone set up on the far left, you took the other. The song started playing, immediately relaxing you. Maybe this isn’t as bad as I thought. The song you chose was a favorite of you and Reggie— Meet Me At Our Spot. Of course, the band loved it too, but they got bored with it after a while since you two were always blasting it wherever you went. You actually had some inspiration from this song and wrote a little tune, but you had no lyrics at the moment.

When I wake up

I cant even stay up

I slept through the day, fuck

I’m not getting younger

——

“Victoria, you don’t understand-“

“No, you don’t understand, Damiano!” Victoria raised her voice at him. They never argued. They’ve known each other since childhood and nothing had ever caused an issue, except for this.

“I did nothing wrong.”

“Really? ‘Cause it looks to me that you broke your lovers heart.”

“Y/N left me,” he said, trying to reason.

“They might have physically left, but, Damiano, you were gone a long time ago.” She started towards the front door of his house, grabbing her keys.

“Where are you going?” Damiano asked.

“Home. But, let me tell you something first, Dami.” She put her hand on the doorknob. “It doesn’t matter how you try to defend yourself, you fucked up. You broke Y/N’s heart. You were talking to someone else. The damage is done. If you’re gonna try and get them back, you’re gonna have to try really damn hard. You want to get Y/N back, right?”

Silence followed. Victoria gave him a second to compose himself, but ultimately feared the worst. “Dami…”

“I mean, yeah, but-“

“No buts. You shouldn’t be saying ‘but’, you have no reason to.” Damiano just looked at her. “Wow… unbelievable.” Victoria opened the door and walked out, slamming the door behind her. Damiano walked up to the door and locked it. He headed back to the living room and heard his phone ding. He picked it up and saw that you had posted a photo.

Just continuing a small tradition tonight with music and alcohol. maybe if he lets me, i’ll post Alex singing Feeling Good 😏🤍

He sighed. He unlocked his phone, and went to go see the photo you posted. You looked nice. Happy. What was the tradition again?

Right, karaoke. The weekend before the band records an album, everyone goes to a karaoke bar. He scrolled down a bit and saw a comment. He saw Victoria’s comment.

Ahhh you look amazing!!!😘

He figured that she saw the post before she pulled out of his driveway. He debated on what he should do.

Yeah, he fucked up. But, it really wasn’t that bad. It’s not like he cheated. It was just talking. He wanted to tell you that you look great, but wasn’t sure how you would feel about it. Like Y/N would care what I think, he thought to himself. You never broke up, though. Plus, he needs to know what’s going on, how you’re doing. He’s concerned. Couldn’t be the worst thing— it’s not like the internet knows yet.

Ok, I’ll just just comment.

——

Caught a vibe

Baby, are you coming for the ride

I just wanna look into your eyes

I just wanna stay for the night, night, night

You and Reginald were jamming out to the song, as per usual. Everyone was loving it, even the rest of the band. It was the most fun you’ve had in a hot second.

When we take a drive

Maybe we can take the 405

Hypnotized by the light

Man, this must be the life

As the song ended, everyone cheered you two on. You went over and hugged Reggie on his side, him giving a small hug back. You guys walked back to your booth, the whole band full of excitement. Alex got up from his seat and let the two of you in, you sitting in the corner of the booth.

“That was amazing!” Luke exclaimed.

“Thanks, we had fun,” Reggie said, practically reading your mind.

“Definitely.”

“Your voices go so well together,” Flynn remarked.

“That’s exactly what I said!” you said, hitting Reginald’s shoulder so he knows your point is proven.

“Ok, we don’t have to be violent about it,” he joked, smirking just a bit.

“Yeah, whatever. I’m gonna go to the restroom real quick. I’ll be back,” you said, waiting for Alex and Reggie to stand up so you can go. You grabbed your phone, stood up, and made your way to the restroom. When you got to the restroom, you went to one of the stalls but checked your phone before you did anything else. However, you almost immediately regretted it because you saw that Damiano had commented on your photo.

What the hell does he want?

You read what he had commented, and, honestly, you wanted to laugh.

You look great tonight, as you do every night, amore

You couldn’t believe it. Amore, really? you thought to yourself. You looked up from your phone, looking at the stall door. You contemplated what to do next:

For starters, keeping the comment wouldn’t be out of the norm for your followers. They knew about you and Damiano. However, if you deleted (which you really wanted to do), everyone would notice. People would speculate. Or, you could just go off on Damiano privately. That would be too harsh. But, this is your account— your decision. Do you want to have your cheater boyfriend compliment you the way he did?

You know what, do it later, you thought, turning off your phone and finally, actually, using the restroom.

Once you finished, you exited the stall and walked over to the sinks. You washed your hands, not able to get that damn comment off of your mind.

You walked out of the restroom and back over to the booth, but you didn’t sit down.

“Alex,” you said, standing next to him. “Can I talk to you?” He looked up at you, unsure of what you wanted to talk about, but got up anyway. You grabbed his hand and pulled him outside.

When you two got out there, you sat down on a bench, Alex following your move.

“Is everything alright?” You opened your phone and went to Instagram, showing Alex to comment Damiano left. “Oh.”

“Yeah. I just don’t know what to do, and it is tearing me apart. Do I delete it? Do I keep it? Do I argue with him?”

“Delete the comment, and, Y/N, please, block him on social media. You don’t have to block his number, but you should block him everywhere else.”

“Why not his number,” you asked.

“Because you need closure. At some point, you’re gonna want to text him or call him and try to get some understanding as to why he did what he did. You haven’t actually broken up yet. Maybe that’s how you finish off?”

After a moment of contemplation (again), you nodded your head slowly.

“Ok. Yeah, ok, I’ll do that.” You lowered your head and searched through your following to find Damiano’s account. You clicked the three dots at the top, and looked for the block button.

“You sure this is the right thing to do?”

“Yes. Want me to do it?”

“No, no, it’s fine. I can do it.”

You looked at the button for a second. You’ve never even thought of blocking him before. I’m your mind, he was the one. Now? Well, you’re blocking him because he cheated on you, so obviously your idea of him completely shifted.

I can do this.

Your hands started shaking slightly, your heart was beating like crazy.

I can do this.

Slowly, you moved your finger over the button.

Click it, it’ll be fine.

And, so, you did. You clicked the button.

You felt free.

———————————————————————-

Taglist for 3yrs — i’m so sorry if i couldn’t tag you!*

@mywritingonlyfans @nientedaridere @pingpongchamps @fairysums @kkjk @blackbluerose666 @thatmeganthing @teenyweenynightghost @ccweasley @lilchickie @katyldamusic @fanfictioncafe @tiaamberxx @butkutee @aboredassho @story-scribbler

*(for those who want to be tagged, please have stuff posted onto your blog and make sure that your blog isn’t censored <3)

[smashboxgirl26]

save your tears / chapter 2: you look so happy when i'm not with you

chapter 1: i saw you dancing in a crowded room | chapter 3: but then you saw me, caught you by surprise save your tears masterlist

It was only morning and the day was already awkward and uncomfortable.

Once everyone had woken up and come down for breakfast, the tension in the air was heavy and thick as you and Bakugou did everything you could to actively avoid each other. No one else noticed or took an interest in your behaviour, since you’d been acting like this around each other for months now. Except for Shinsou.

The knowledge that came with his quirk was very useful in situations like these - he could pick up on social cues and different emotions easily - making the way that you and Bakugou were acting around each other very obvious. He easily caught the tiny glances you both gave each other when one wasn’t looking, and how your gaze would continue to wander and eventually come back to one another.

He first noticed it when Bakugou had walked into the kitchen earlier that morning. Your smile immediately faltered and dimmed, and the tension in the air was awkward and uncertain.

Something had happened between the two of you, and he didn’t like it at all.

He’d been there for you after it all went down. He was the person you cried and ranted to everyday. He was the person who reassured you and made sure you knew that it was all Bakugou’s fault. He was the one who, essentially, put you back together after you completely cracked.

And you were finally, finally, coming back to the way that you were before.

Sure, you were still a little tense when Bakugou was around you, and you definitely felt awkward in some situations - but you were getting better.

He wasn’t going to lose all of that just because Bakugou decided that he suddenly wanted you again. He wasn’t going to let you lose yourself, and he wasn’t going to lose you to Bakugou.

Again.

…

Bakugou only stared across the lunchroom as he saw you take a seat with your “friends”. And of course, as usual, Shinsou had one of his hands pressed against your back as he guided you to where you were going.

It was all so stupid. The way you ran to this specific group after you’d both broken up made it obvious how you were trying to get back at him in your own way. You were hanging out with the people that he found the most annoying, and as much as he hated to admit it, it had been working.

It’d been three months since you’d both broken up (and yes, he counted), yet all that had been on his mind for the past while was you.

Even before you’d hooked up, you were the only person he thought about.

He couldn’t not stare at you during class. He couldn’t not watch you hang out with your friends. He couldn’t not pay attention to every thing he saw you do.

And he hated it.

He’d broken up with you for a reason. And there really was no reason for him to be hung up over you like this. The whole ordeal was incredibly stupid and he wanted to stab his own brain for making him think like that.

And even more, he wondered if the internal feelings that he'd been brewing for so long were responsible for what had happened between the two of you. He still had no memories or recollection as to why he’d decided to hook up with you while drunk. Not to mention, you must have reciprocated his feelings to some extent, since you’d also been part of that decision.

“Hey, uhhh Bakugou? Are you okay over there?”

Bakugou swiveled his head to the other few faces on his table. Sero and Kaminari were off in their lala land somewhere and Mina was way too focused on a conversation with the invisible bitch to give a damn about what was going on. Which only left Kirishima, as he looked at his friend with concern.

It wasn’t unlike Bakugou to be quiet during lunch, but the new addition of staring daggers at something across the room was more unsettling than when he yelled at the people sitting next to him to shut up.

“You okay man?”, Kirishima asked again after being met with silence.

Bakugou only rolled his eyes and huffed before turning his attention back to the food in front of him.

“Well, uh that’s good then,” Kirishima smiled awkwardly before taking a sip of his drink. “So, you heard about the dance that’s coming up right?”

“Obviously,” Bakugou mumbled.

He was trying to block out as much of the noise around him as he spotted you from the corner of his eye. You were giggling and laughing with Shinsou, Deku, and some other nerds he couldn’t give less of a fuck about. But his eyes were zeroed in on your hand that was placed on Shinsou’s shoulder.

“Right obviously,” Kirishima replied awkwardly. “Well, I uhm, was just thinking about that, ya know? And I was wondering, well are you gonna go with someone? Or, what I mean is, are you going to ask someone? Because well, I just thought tha-”

“Shut up for a second Shitty hair,” Bakugou interrupted.

You were headed in the direction of his table. At first glance, Bakugou thought that it was for him, and he was ecstatic. You were coming to talk to him, he was sure of it. There was no way that you would let what happened the night before go without discussing it in any way.

But his dreams were promptly crushed when you walked right past them to the trash can, not even sparing him a glance as you did so.

And then when Kirishima called out your name to wave a hello, you responded without giving any attention to Bakugou whatsoever. Your gaze was averted completely and you walked past the table again, right back to Shinsou.

Now, Bakugou was mad.

It’d been like this since you broke up - you practically ignoring his entire existence - and he absolutely despised it. For one thing, he thought it was extremely childish. But for another, it hurt more than he could admit.

And now with the addition of what’d happened between the two of you the night before, it made Bakugou feel worse.

...

You walked into the 3-A classroom, skipping along and joking with your friends, mostly because Shinsou had snorted and milk came out of his nose.

“That was disgusting,” you grimaced as you scrunched up your nose.

Shinsou only gave you a tired glare before rolling his eyes and firing back.“You can’t say anything Y/N. Says the same person who bawled for three hours straight and had snot all over their face.”

“Shut up, at least I had a valid reason for being gross.” “Yeah, yeah,” he mused back. “You were crying because your boyfriend broke up with you. I got it, don't worry. Heard it a million times at least.”

That jab was on purpose. He was mad about how you were acting, and even more upset at the fact that you hadn’t mentioned anything about it.

So yeah, maybe he wanted you to feel the tiniest bit upset too.

You only shot him a glare as you decided to ignore him to go sit at your seat by the window.

He chuckled as he made his way over to your desk, observing the small pout on your lips.

It was incredibly adorable, he couldn’t lie whatsoever. But, he did know exactly the chord he’d struck. Obviously, it was hard to get over someone and move on. And even with his own feelings, he knew he shouldn’t take his anger out on you.

Surely, Bakugou had to be the one who’d started everything between you again.

He sat on the desk behind you, swinging his legs as he kicked your chair to grab your attention.

“Stop it,” you whined.

“Nope.”

You finally turned all the way around in your chair and shot him a tired look, which he responded to with a large smile on his face. You knew exactly what he was doing: annoying you into forgiving him.

And when his kicks became rather harsh against your back, you gave in as you waved your hands. “Okay okay, fine,” you rolled your eyes.

“I was only joking, ya know?”

“Yeah, I know,” you sighed. You rested one of your forearms over the back of your chair, as you leaned on your palm to keep yourself upright.

“Good,” he smiled as he reached his hand out to pat your head.

Shinsou opened his mouth in preparation to say something else, but he was promptly interrupted by a gruff voice that had a constant angry undertone.

“Move it eyebags. Get off my desk.”

Shinsou lazily turned his head over to face Bakugou’s, while you reflexively looked down and away from his figure.

You didn’t even know what to think around him anymore.

You thought that you’d finally gotten over him. You thought you were ready to finally think about seeing someone else.

But no, here you were, back to square one.

You almost felt like crying now that you were seeing him again, and you couldn’t handle it. It wasn’t something that you hadn’t felt from his presence since you’d first broken up with him.

“Chill out,” Shinsou smirked as he pretended to ease Bakugou’s anger. He swung himself off the desk and leaned himself against yours instead.

Bakugou was even more mad about that move, forgetting about sitting on his desk in the first place. It was like Shinsou was showing off the relationship he had with you, something that pretty much ceased to exist between you and Bakugou.

You remained unaware of the silent exchange between them, too wrapped up in your head and thoughts. It was too much stress on yourself in too little time.

And Shinsou noticed instantly, deciding to take advantage of the situation and comforting you in the most obvious way that he could - pulling you in for a hug and leaning in to whisper that you’d be okay.

Bakugou’s reactions were always incredibly amusing.

ask if you'd like to be tagged :)

tag list: @speedmetalqueen @sam-i-am-1025 @bva14 @obscuredeyes @miii-riii @silentw-lkr @bkgwrites @babyspicytuna @captainchrisstan @lokislilslut @jazzylove

[popcorn1989]

I'm sorry about translation errors

Rience & Cahir chapter 3

Last Part Words: 555

Rience pulled away from Cahir's grasp. He looked into the evil face of him and was startled slightly as Cahir, with force, rammed the dagger into the seat and grabbed his face with both hands.

Rience noticed that the dagger had slightly scratched his skin.

"I'll teach you how to behave"

Rience grinned, "Well, I'm curious"

"Who is your client?"

Rience raised an eyebrow, still grinning.

"Better say it, or it will end badly for you"

Rience did nothing, internally he laughed out loud.

Cahir yanked a dagger from the back of the chair and cut Rience free as he yanked him out of the chair and dragged him to a table. Rience was prone on his stomach, Cahir leaning close behind him. Interesting. And for someone who would see this scene highly erotic. Rience groaned slightly at the roughness and strength of the grip.

"Tell me, and maybe I'll let you live"

Cahir said close to his ears, leaving goosebumps on them. Rience laughed again.

"If I tell you that, I'll have to kill you and that would really be a waste"

Rience whispered softly, and he noticed the cold tabletop under the left side of his face. He twitched slightly when the dagger appeared in front of his eyes with a bang. He noticed Cahir's movement behind him and was a little sad that he was in such a situation. Cahir grabbed his hair and held him tighter to the table.

"Don't worry Rience, with the chain you're nothing, an ordinary man"

Rience would get angry, yes he hated it when he realized his chaos but couldn't use it. He tore himself away from Cahir and grinned when he realized that it came as a surprise to him. He grabbed the dagger and stood in front of him. He wanted and how he wanted, but Cahir made no move to defend himself.

"I'll go now, that was really a nice encounter, give me the keys"

Cahir shook his head and grinned. Rience got angry and attacked him with the dagger. But Cahir could and yanked at Rience's arm, they literally danced. Until Rience was on the floor and Cahir was sitting on him.

"You're good, but I think you should stick to your magic"

Said Cahir. Rience wanted to bring the dagger down on Cahir, but Cahir grabbed his wrist and pinned him to the ground before Rience could use his other hand. Being stapled to the ground and so helpless made Rience angry, and it showed on his face. Cahir just laughed at him until he suddenly stopped and looked at Rience. There was something between them that no one wanted to say.

When suddenly both men moved their heads towards each other and kissed passionately. Cahir released his hands so Rience could touch him.

*𝔽𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕟 𝕕𝕖𝕞𝕒𝕟𝕕. 🤣

Rience and Cahir lay out of breath and naked on the floor.

"Okay, that was good"

"Do you still want information from me that I can't give you"

Rience started slightly when he felt the small key there land on his torso.

"You can go, but…" Cahir looked at Rience. "Come visit me from time to time"

Rience undid his handcuffs and immediately noticed the Power flowing into him. He closed his eyes, that was so good, and got up to get dressed.

"I will do that"

[kellyvela]

is there any jonsa as persephone & hades metas around here (on jonsa fandom)? 👀 i've seen some people comparing them but never really found an analysis where someone explain why they think jonsa parallels with persephone and hades

I wrote a bit about it:

Jon and Sansa have Hades and Persephone imagery around them as well.

Jon as Hades:

Despite being born in Dorne, Jon is a son of Winterfell.

In the Prologue of A Game of Thrones we can read that Waymar Royce, Jon’s stand in, died at the hands of the Others, in an eriily similar way that Jon would die four books later at the hands of his brothers of the Night’s Watch (foreshadowing of Jon’s death Nº 1).

Jon played to be a Ghost at the Crypts of Winterfell (foreshadowing of Jon’s death Nº 2).

Jon named his mute albino direwolf Ghost (foreshadowing of Jon’s death Nº 3).

And in A Dance with Dragons, Jon actually died.

One of Jon’s killers was Bowen Marsh dubbed the Old Pomegranate.

We can read the words “a dream of spring” in one of Jon’s chapters (A Storm of Swords - Jon V).

Sansa as Persephone:

Persephone and Sansa are renowned beauties.

Sansa was born during winter, she is the Winterfell���s daughter.

Sansa is heavily linked with the dawn and the sun (Battle for the Dawn to defeat the Long Night/Long Winter).

An important theme in Sansa’s arc is rebuilding, which is connected with rebuild a life after the Long Night/Long Winter. A dream of spring.

GRRM has linked Sansa to the warmer seasons (spring and summer) through her favorite dessert, lemon cakes.

Sansa is deeply associated with flowers, thus with spring.

Sansa rejected the pomegranate from Petyr “Littlefinger” Baelish.

Jon’s death is foreshadowed (hidden daggers) in one of Sansa’s chapters (A Storm of Swords - Sansa VI).

Sansa sensed Jon’s death: “A ghost wolf, big as mountains.” (A Feast for Crows - Alayne II).

Lady, part of Sansa, already died and is buried at Winterfell.

Excerpt from this post.

Read more about it here:

Some thoughts on Sansa and Jon, by Tze

The Pomegranate Imagery - Jonsa, ASOS.

Sansa as Persephone

The King and Queen in the North vs. the King and Queen of the Underworld

[tavvattales]

GENSHIN IMPACT Character x gn reader fluff stories~♡♡

Scenario: Confessions part 1

Characters: Albedo and Bennett(seperate)

Pairings: Albedo x gn reader, Bennett x gn reader

Warnings: None

SFW----> Lots of fluff down below. Click at your own risk. ;)

Albedo:

● He catches himself staring at you while you both work on experiments together. He feels a heat rising in his chest when your eyes meet his. He's not sure what this feeling is, but he enjoys it.

● He finds himself in the library asking Lisa for books about this unknown feeling. She lets out a small laugh, "Darling, what you're feeling is love!" Love? His interest peaked as Lisa handed him a few books on the subject.

"So then just a drop of this frost potion before adding the mist flower?" You ask, looking up at him, meeting his wandering gaze, his beautiful teal eyes smiling at you. You're unaware that you're creating something Albedo meticulously planned for you.

He nods, "You're doing great. After you add those two together the final step is to fuse it with the ley line branch," his voice was gentle as he watched you.

You were embarrassed, your cheeks turning pink, but you were grateful that he was letting you create something for the first time, "I'll do my best, Master Albedo," You were studying under him for quite sometime as his assistant. You weren't quite up to par with Sucrose yet, but now he was finally letting you work on projects.

Determined not to fail him, you carefully put a single drop of the frost potion in the dish before you. You then added the mist flower, the bowl gently emitting a soft glow, "Ah! Somethings happening!" You exclaim excitedly.

Albedo gets up from his chair and walks over to you, the ley line branch in his hand. He leans over you, his hand brushing up against yours softly, "You're on the last step. Amazing job, Y/N," He says, taking your hand gently, turning it around so your palm faces upwards, "You remember how to fuse them together, yes?" He asks softly, his voice low, placing the ley line branch in your hand, his fingers lingering for a moment with yours. That made your heart flutter.

You can feel the warmth of his hand as it meets with yours. You glance upwards, his gaze catching yours. He had a slight pink hue across his face, though you weren't quite sure why.

It seemed as if he was studying your reactions to his touch. You didn't mind it as you often found yourself thinking about him on a daily basis, but you wouldn't let him know that. After all, he was your teacher and master. Little did you know, he felt the same about you, "Y-yes, Master Albedo." You replied, slowly moving your hand away from his, grasping the ley line branch.

He smiles softly at you and nodded for you to continue, making your heart almost leap from your chest. It was a rare sight to see, but you relished in those moments and you smile back at him. You place the ley line branch in the bowl.

A brilliant bright blue lit up the room, both of you had to shield your eyes before the dancing blue light calmed down, "Whoa. . ." You were breathless as it happened. A success! You peered into the bowl to see what you had created with Albedo's recipe.

You gasp softly. Inside the bowl was a beautiful heart shaped crystal and before you could speak Albedo took your hands in his, "Y/N, I love you. Will you go out with me?" He asked with a brilliance of hope in his eyes.

Tears welled up in your eyes from pure happiness, "Of course I will. . .I love you too." You couldn't believe this was happening, but you couldn't wait for the next chapter of your relationship to come as this was all you ever wished for.

With that, you found yourself embracing him, nuzzling close to his star shaped mark as he let out a happy sigh, kissing the top of your head. His confession was also a success. . .his best experiment yet.

Albedo x gn reader confession END

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

Bennett:

● He never fails to protect you, even if he gets hurt in the process. He'll always be the one to volunteer to open a chest, or activate a mechanism in case of a trap. He just wants you to be safe and doesn't want his bad luck effecting you.

● This guy has no clue you're crushing on him. This poor baby actually thinks you hate him! Even though you have been adventuring with him for months, you get so flustered with your feelings you end up running away everytime he says something so adorable. He just wants to be close to you, so he doesn't understand why you always run away.

Lodged between two walls, both of your chests up against one another, faces mere inches from each other you find yourself in another odd predicament thanks to Bennett's awful luck. You weren't even sure how this had happened and neither did he, but all you could focus on was the warmth of his breath tickling your face, "Awh, I'm sorry, Y/N. I had no idea that was going to happen. Hopefully some other adventurers will find us soon," He said sheepishly trying to ignore the fact he's pressed so close to you.

You feel heat spreading across your face as you avoid eye contact, "I-it's okay, Benny. I think we've been through worse situations," you say softly.

It was true, just last week the both of you almost got cooked alive because Bennett accidentally woke up an entire tribe of meat obsessed Hillichurls in Dadaupa Gorge. Thankfully the dagger you strategically hid in your sleeve swiftly cut the rope you were tied up in and you both barely escaped.

There was a painstakingly long silence before Bennett spoke up, "Why do you bother to go on adventures with me? Don't you hate me?" His voice sounded sad, defeated. All he wanted was to get your attention because he liked you. You were the only one to stick around him after all the other adventurers abandoned him.

You were taken aback by his questions. You finally muster up the courage to look him in his saddened emerald eyes, "Oh, Benny. . .I had no idea you felt that way about me. ." You felt your heart breaking, but you push through, "I-I go on adventures with you because I actually really enjoy spending time together. I'm so sorry I gave you that impression. I don't hate you, Benny."

He breathes a sigh of relief, "Thank goodness. I was afraid you did after you kept running off without saying anything. I really like spending time with you too," Bennett smiles at you repairing your heart in an instant.

Your cheeks flushed with an apparent red hue you take a deep breath. Today was the day. No more holding back and no more running away, "Bennett. . .you see, I. . ."

"What is it, Y/N?" He asks quizzically.

"I-I really like you. Will you go out with me?" Your eyes are closed tight at this point, preparing for the worse, but it doesn't come. Instead you feel your chin being lifted up and his warm lips press against yours before pulling away.

"Today must be the luckiest day of my life. . ." He mutters, "Of course I'll go out with you."

Today wasn't so bad afterall, you thought.

Bennett x gn reader END

THANKS FOR READING <3

[walkerismychoice]

Queen of My Heart - Chapter 36

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: NSFW (I didn’t intend it but it just happened

Summary: Liam finally clears the air with Constantine, and we go to the Fire and Ice Ball at Lythikos, the final social season even before Liam chooses his future Queen.

A/N: Umm, I don’t even want to know how many years it’s been since I updated, but it is with the encouragement of you readers that I was compelled to finish.  My tag list is probably way outdated and I’m sure I’ve missed some poeple who’ve asked to be tagged along the way. Feel free to let me know either way if you want to be tagged or removed from the list.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @jadedpixiescribbles @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2861

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

“Hello, Father.” Liam greeted Constantine as he walked into the hospital room. He noted the King's color was back to normal and he seemed in good spirits.

"My son, I knew you'd come!" Constantine reached towards Liam with arms outstretched.

Liam just shook his head and held up a hand to stop him. "This is not that kind of visit. I'm here because I know... I know everything."

"What-" Constantine choked out before a coughing fit ensued.

Liam fought the instinctual urge to comfort his father. "Enough with the theatrics. I know about Madeleine...about you threatening the show if they didn't help her win...as if me choosing the woman I plan to spend my life with is some political game to be won."

 "How did you find out? I gave strict orders that my demands were confidential."

Liam scoffed. "Seriously? I just told you I found out you tried to have the producers manipulate me into marrying a woman I don't love, and that's all you had to say for yourself?"

"You have to understand," Constantine pleaded. "Madeleine is what's best for Cordonia, and what's best for Cordonia is what's best for you."

"Unbelievable!" Liam felt the anger rising in his chest like a simmering pot ready to boil over. "You may have told yourself that to feel better about choosing your commitments to Cordonia over happiness, love, family... Maybe you’ve lied to yourself for so long you’ve actually started to believe it, but it's one hundred percent bullshit. I know I'll be a more effective leader if I get to choose the woman I want by my side, and that woman is Olivia."

Constantine's jaw dropped and there was a long pause before he gained his composure to protest. "Absolutely not. You know her family's history. I'd rather have you on the same page as me, but I am still King-"

"Save your breath," Liam shut him down. "You should know that your perfect candidate Madeleine has displayed some behavior quite unbecoming of a future queen, and it is all on film. I know Cordonians are generally flexible with their views on monogamy, but I don't think Madeleine sleeping with the host of the show while she's trying to compete for my affection will look good in anyone's eyes. She has been eliminated from the show and is no longer in the running. That leaves only Riley aside from Olivia, and I know you know what's going on there."

Constantine's face fell momentarily in resignation, but then he perked back up again. "Well, then you can bring back someone else. Kiara is quite lovely and is fit to play the part."

"Enough!" Liam practically shouted much too loud for the thin hospital walls. "Not that I owe you an explanation, but Olivia is stronger, smarter, and more capable of ruling a country than anyone you could hope to pair with me. You seem to forget that I am the son who stuck by you and am now the rightful and only heir to the throne. Your reign is coming to an end, and you have no choice but to accept my decision."

Unexpectedly, Constantine's demeanor changed, a sly grin creeping across his face. "My boy, I've always been a bit worried you were too soft to be king. However, seeing you stand up for yourself today gives me hope. I still don't approve of your choice, but I will no longer stand in your way."

Liam shook his head and let out an incredulous laugh, reeling from Constantine’s sudden change of course. "Bastien will take you back to the palace. We can talk more when I know it's not just the medicine that's gotten to your head."

-----

“Well, this place certainly explains a lot about Olivia.” Riley mused aloud as she scanned the ballroom. Ornate floor to ceiling windows with deep alcoves were surrounded by walls with intricate, gilded accents leading up to a hand-painted ceiling measuring at least 3 stories high. The grandeur of the space was both intimidating and beautiful at the same time, much like its owner.

“Has she shown you all the toys in her armory yet? That too says a lot about Olivia," Drake chuckled at his own joke.

Riley laughed along. “No, but she does constantly remind me she keeps a dagger hidden under her skirt. Are you sure Liam knows what he’s in for?”

"Heh. Better him than me, that's for sure. Liam's warm and fuzzy exterior can make him seem like a pushover, but he can hold his own when it matters. Olivia needs someone who can roll with her mood swings but still call her on her bullshit when needed."

"You know, I admit I had a little trouble wrapping my brain around Liam choosing Olivia, but when you put it that way, it makes sense. Now I suppose I need to find Kat so I can figure out if I need to dance with Liam or something. Ugh, I cannot wait until all these balls are over.

Drake almost doubled over laughing. "Oh, Bennett, I hate to break it to you, but this shit never ends. Next will be the coronation, then some charity gala, Liam's wedding...the list goes on. Welcome to your life as a noble woman."

Riley stared ahead blankly as a giant wave of realization washed over her. It was all so much, so fast. She'd never had time to think past the next day to consider this was all ending soon, and then what? Did she stay with her new-found family and live this life that was still foreign to her in so many ways? What about her life in New York? Sure, she didn't have much going on at the moment, but she still had her aunt Susan and best friend Sarah along with some good friends at work like Daniel. Becoming a therapist was still one of her goals, at least it was until the day she left for Cordonia. Now everything was so unclear, and she could hardly breathe.

Drake must have noticed her face looking some kind of way because he placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her to an open doorway to a nearby balcony. "Why don't we get you some air before you go off and do your thing for the show?"

Once outside and around the corner of the wraparound balcony, Drake pulled Riley into his chest, holding her securely, and she was almost instantly calmed. All the what-ifs fell away, and it was just them. All she needed was the be with him, wherever that turned out to be, and everything else would fall into place.

But what if Drake didn't quite feel the same? They'd been talking as if they'd be together indefinitely, but in reality, they'd only known each other two months. The anxious fluttering in her chest started up again.

Drake pulled back to look her in the eyes. "Riley, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. You know, we're both still half American. We can move back to the states....or uh, I mean you can move back to the states if that's what you want." His eyes darted bashfully to the ground.

Riley's face lit up, the nervous thumping in her chest giving way to excited butterflies. "I like the sound of 'we' better if that's what you really meant. You'd really move back to the U.S. with me? I mean I've hardly had the chance to think about what I want, so that may be irrelevant, but you seriously see a future with me?"

"I do." Drake smiled earnestly. "I'm sure anyone who knows me will think I've gone mad, but whether it means being in New York City and putting up with cramped apartments and way too many people, living a quieter, simple life in Texas, or stealing moments away at dreadful Cordonian events such as this, I know we can make our own happiness...together."

"Wow, the Drake Walker I met two months ago would not believe what's coming out of your mouth right now." Riley touched the back of her hand to Drake's forehead in jest. "Are you sure you aren't running a fever?"

"Haha, very funny." Drake swiftly but gently pushed Riley back again the stone wall. "I'm not feeling ill, but I know how to make your temperature rise.

"You pushing me against duchy walls is becoming a thing, huh? Must have really enjoyed the almost public sex last time."

"Possibly," Drake teased as he slipped his hand through the side-slit in her icy-blue gown, gently gliding his fingers up her thigh. Riley braced herself as Drake neared the place she wanted him the most. Goosebumps gave way to a burning need before she remembered where they were.

"Wait." She pushed a hand against his chest. "We're not exactly alone here, and we've gone to such lengths to keep this under wraps. Someone could walk out here at any moment."

Drake shrugged. "I know it may be a bit reckless, but honestly at this point, I don't care. I just want you."

Riley opened her mouth to protest but nothing came out before Drake swooped in for a searing kiss. She instantly melted into him, Drake continuing his earlier action and deftly plunging two fingers inside her, his eyes widening slightly in surprise when he noticed there was no fabric barrier to work around. A strangled moan escaped Riley's throat as he stroked the exact spot he knew always left her at his mercy.

Drake pulled back with a satisfied grin. "Do you want me to stop? Just say the word and we'll go back in right now."

Instead of answering, Riley yanked him by the collar and crushed her lips to his. Drake responded by hoisting her up and over to the balcony. He perched her atop the railing, one hand grasped firmly around her waist and the other making quick work of undoing his pants.

Teetering on the narrow ledge two stories high, Riley clamped her hand tightly to the railing on either side of her and Drake noticed. "I've got you Bennett, no need to worry. I won't let anything happen to you. I'm just doing my job after all," he said with a smirk.

She smiled at his reference to what was now an inside joke between them. But all joking aside, he always made her feel safe. She released her grip, flinging her arms around his neck and her legs around his waist.

Drake eased his cock free and Riley could tell how hard he was just by sight, the skin stretched taught from his perfect proportion of thickness and length. He lifted her dress and she couldn't wait any longer. She pulled him in and he took the invitation to thrust inside her. Even as wet was she was, his size created just the right amount of fullness and friction to take her breath away.

Riley moaned and gasped with each thrust, which in turn seemed to turn Drake on even more. The thrill of being up so high with nothing but him to hold her only added to her excitement and when he began rubbing circles over her clit with his thumb that was all it took to push her figuratively over the edge. She tightened around him everywhere, her orgasm eliciting immense heat and pleasure with every pulse, resulting in Drake picking up his pace until his own release followed shortly thereafter.

Drake carefully set Riley down before putting himself back together. "I'm almost a little disappointed we didn't nearly get caught this time."

"If I don't get back in there immediately, that's still a possibility." Riley had no idea how much time had passed but it was probably more than she thought. "Fuck, Kat is going to be pissed." Riley straightened her skirt and started towards the ballroom door.

"Wait!" Drake puller her in for a quick kiss. "I love you. Just so you don't forget."

Riley rolled her eyes but smiled. "You know you have nothing to worry about. If Liam's charms haven't wooed me yet, I think you’re safe. But I love you too. Now go do your job." She smacked him on the ass before hustling back to the ballroom, Drake following shortly thereafter.

As expected, Kat was frantic when Riley found her. “Where the fuck were you? You were supposed to meet up with me twenty minutes ago?”

Overhearing Riley’s scolding, Olivia smugly sidled up next to them. “I mean, I didn’t mind getting extra time with Liam, but you know Jo and Kat and there ‘ratings’, Olivia said while gesturing with air quotes. She scanned Riley from head to toe and then glanced over to Drake on the perimeter. “Ugh, I can tell you exactly what, or rather who she was doing. Gross. I guess that just makes my position more secure, but really, couldn’t you have waited until after my ball to fuck him?”

Riley sheepishly smoothed her hair and adjusted her dress. “I just needed some air, that’s all. I was having a moment.”

Olivia scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever you want to call it. Although I still cannot fathom why you chose Drake, I suppose I should be a little easier on you for eliminating yourself from the competition and allowing Liam to break free of his distraction of the shiny new object.”

“Aww, Olivia, that’s so sweet. Next thing you know we’ll be best friends,” Riley replied sarcastically.

 “I don’t know about friends...but I do dislike you less than the rest of them.” Olivia tried and failed to hold back a smile.

“I’ll take it,” Riley said with a laugh before turning to Jo. “Okay, now tell me where I need to be.”

Jo set Riley up with Liam on the dance floor. It still wasn’t hard to pretend to be into Liam because it wasn’t all pretend, but there was no lingering pining between them.

“Well, I spoke to my father this morning.” Liam spun Riley around and brought her back to face him.

“Finally!” Riley exclaimed. “How did that go?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around it to be completely honest, but it went surprisingly well. I told him I knew everything, and he no longer had a say in my decision. He tried to argue with me at first, but somehow something I said made him respect me. He still may not agree with my choice, but I think this is finally all over! I am free to choose who I want without any threat or blackmail hanging over my head.

Riley pulled Liam in and hugged him tightly. “That’s amazing! I’m so happy for you, and for all of us.” The weight on Riley’s shoulders was suddenly ten times lighter. She hadn’t let herself think too deeply about how much was at stake, but now that the air was clear, she realized how stressed she had been. “Now all that’s left is for you to tear my heart to pieces on national television, and you get your fairy tale ending.”

Liam chuckled. “I’ll try to let you down easy.”

-----

Drake stood in his usual position off the side of the dance floor. This may not be the last of these events he’d have to endure, but at least it should be the last time he’d have to stand on the sidelines watching Riley dance with someone else. He was secure in what they had, but it still didn’t stop that twinge of jealously seeing her and Liam together talking, touching, and having fun. But it wasn’t a bad thing that his best friend and girlfriend get along so well. Girlfriend...that’s the first time he’d used that term for anyone he’d “dated”, even if only in his head. It was hard to believe everything was falling into place.

Drake took his eyes off Riley to scan the perimeter. What he saw didn’t immediately register as out of the ordinary, but then he quickly recalled this person walking towards the dance floor wasn’t supposed to be there.

“Bastien, check out three o’clock.” Drake altered Bastien via his radio earpiece. “How did she get in here without security clearance?”

“I don’t know.” Bastien replied. “I’ll check with the other guys to see who let her in. Keep an eye on her.”

Drake watched in concern as Madeleine marched towards the dance floor. She’d been banned from the rest of filmed events after her stunt. Not wanting to let her cause a scene, Drake was about to stop her from getting any closer, when she pulled out an unmistakable object. She had a gun and it was pointed right at Riley and Liam.

Before Drake could alert the rest of the team, people started to scatter. He heard a familiar click and knew he had to disarm Madeleine immediately, but it was too late. A shot went off and he didn’t hesitate. Drake dove between the bullet and his two best friends on the dance floor, and that would be the last thing he remembered before he hit the floor.

[lin-nin]

Tribulation & Tenderness - Chapter 11

Ship: Main Technoblade x Reader, some Dream x Reader

Plot:    You're a princess in a Kingdom suffering a years long famine. In a    desperate attempt to help your people, you accept one simple offer:   Marriage to the crown prince of a neighboring kingdom. Anything to help    your people survive. Surely it can't be too bad, can it?

Chapter List: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 Disclaimer:   Cross-posted on Wattpad (discontinued) and Ao3. This is based off of everyone's CHARACTERS. I do not write fanfic based off the actual people.

--

Chapter 11: All’s Fair In Love And War

< | Previous Chapter

You excitedly trailed after Techno as he led you towards the courtyard, grin splitting your face. He looked back at you and chuckled, head shaking. You probably seemed like a whole different person, but you were full of a childlike giddiness you didn’t normally carry. The worn out area was a little disturbed from Wilbur and Tommy earlier, but you didn’t pay it much mind. You were just excited to have the chance to learn to fight.

“How much combat knowledge do you have, exactly?” Techno asked as he came to stand on the flattened grass. He unbuckled the belt holding his sword, tossing it towards the side. Out of the way, since there was no way it would be used now of all times.

“Absolutely none, I have my instincts,” You mumbled sheepishly, offering a grin as you came to stand across from him.

“Alright, put your dagger with my sword. We’re gonna focus on hand-to-hand first.” He pushed up the sleeves of his shirt, watching you take the dagger away from your waist. You sat it atop his sword, fidgeting nervously. You were vastly inexperienced, especially when compared to Techno and you knew that. This was going to be a mess.

“Where do we start?” You looked to him for guidance, feeling lost as you stood across from him. He watched you for a few moments, before motioning you towards him.

“Come at me.” His voice was flat, and he didn’t even seem to be taking it seriously. Then again, you weren’t much of a threat. Taking it too seriously might end up hurting.

“What?” You stammered, tilting your head. You eyed him up, trying to find something to go on. It wasn’t exactly easy.

“Try and hit me. I’ll correct you as we go.” Just like that? Just hit him? You chewed your lip, eyebrow furrowing as you tried to figure out what the best approach would be. You didn’t know how to do this. This was going to be so embarrassing. You pushed the stress aside. You wouldn’t learn if you didn’t try. Your gaze focused on his side, and you darted forward. You raised a hand to hit his side, only for him to entirely sidestep you and smack your hand away.

“Don’t be so obvious,” He stated, an eyebrow raising. You gave a frustrated huff, turning on your heel to swing on him again. He dodged once more backing away from you. He didn’t smack your hand away this time, prompting you to keep pushing forward. You swung on him a few more times, finally prompting him to widen his stance. He began countering the swings easily, eyes flicking over you rapidly.

“Better. Fast is good,” he began. He caught one of your hands, simultaneously kicking your feet out from under you. The wind was knocked out of you as your back collided with the ground, a groan shortly following. That was definitely going to hurt in a few hours time. “Speed is nothing without a proper stance and posture.”

He leaned down over you, offering a hand and pulling you up to your feet. You grunted with the effort, stumbling ever so slightly. “You never said we could use our feet,” You grumbled, shaking your head.

“All’s fair in love and war,” he mused, putting his foot between your own. “Come on, fix your stance.” He positioned your feet as needed, before coming around you. “Center your weight, and stay grounded. Don’t put all of your weight to your feet, though. It’ll only slow you down and make you an easy target.” As he spoke he positioned your shoulders slightly, making sure everything was proper in your stance.

“You’re smaller than most people you’d spar with here, so use your size to your advantage.” He rounded back to the front of you, staring at you for a few moments. He gave an approving hum, and no sooner than that were you launching yourself at him. You took the words to heart, trying to keep yourself light on your feet. Fighting was much harder than you had originally anticipated.

You did manage to land a few actual hits on him, though it was nothing compared to the number of times he countered you. It was only a matter of time before he was grounding you again, making you groan once again. That was going to do more than hurt in the morning. You were going to be so sore, but you had a feeling you would need to get used to it. Techno didn’t strike you as the type to have a day off when teaching something like this.

“Don’t fall into a routine, it makes you predictable and easy to down. You need to be spontaneous,” He was lecturing you again, only to lean down and offer his hand to you once more. You warily eyed the hand, reaching up to grab it. However, instead of letting him pull you up, you tugged down. You used your leg to kick at his feet, grinning successfully as it knocked him off balance. He lurched forward, falling onto you and only managing to barely catch himself on his forearm.

“Spontaneous enough for you?” You taunted, giving him a shit eating grin. He blinked down at you, as if processing what had just happened. At the same time, it really seemed to click what you had just done as well. Heat rushed to your face, your stomach flipping slightly. His ponytail was swung over his shoulder, hanging beside your face. The necklaces he wore brushed against your chest, the chains on his glasses mere centimeters from your face. You were close. Too close. He furrowed his brows, eyes darting nervously to the side. The faintest shade of pink dusted the apples of his cheeks as he moved, pushing himself off the ground and away from you.

“Perhaps a bit too spontaneous,” He murmured, hesitantly offering his hand again. You took it, letting him pull you up to your feet again.

“All’s fair in love and war?” You managed, offering him a feeble smile. He huffed out laughter, shaking his head and taking up his stance again.

“So it seems. Come on, we’re not finished.” You were quick to fall back into the pattern of striking at him, taking care to not get too into a routine. You tried to not think too hard, attempting to rely on instinct. You did note he was more wary in his movements, seeming to hit harder and not give you a chance to wind up in a compromising position again. You didn’t mind, though. It was almost embarrassing to think about, you weren’t too sure you could handle another moment like that.

----

Dream Focal Point

The commons of the capital weren’t entirely unknown to Dream. He had spent quite a fair amount of time here, even if he stood out. He was set out for one place, a house down a beaten path, away from the rest. He didn’t bother knocking on the worn door, simply pushing it open. It creaked to signal his arrival, thumping shut behind him. The house was small, dimly lit. A rickety table was off to the side, and behind it was a figure running a stone over a sword. The figure glanced up at Dream’s arrival, raising a single black eyebrow.

“I have a job for you,” He stated, pulling out a bag. He tossed it onto the table, where it landed heavily. A gloved hand shot out, pulling on the strings to look inside. The figure whistled, looking back towards Dream.

“You’ve never paid this much before, Dream. Let alone up front. What sort of suicide job do you have me on?” They leaned back in the seat, light from the dusty window illuminating his face. Stubble lined his jaw, a white strip of cloth seared at the ends was tied around his forehead, black bangs spilling over it. Brown eyes were full of curiosity, no doubt intrigued by the amount of money being presented to him.

“I want you to come with me to the wedding, as a guard,” Dream started slowly, gauging the reaction.

“The wedding? George’s little sister’s wedding? The love of your life’s wedding?” He clarified, making Dream grimace. The dagger hit the table, the man clearly growing more interested.

“Yes, Sapnap. That exact wedding.” Dream increasingly grew frustrated, far from fond of the words. He hated when things were put so bluntly, but his friend never cared to dance around that fact.

“As a guard? Are you worried they’re going to hurt you?”

“No, it’s just a disguise. I need you to get her back to me, no matter the cost. She said she’d come back if anything happened.”

“Even if it means hurting her or putting her in danger?”

“I would prefer she didn’t get hurt, but if she has to be, she has to be. I need her back.”

“You claim to love her but you’d just let me hurt her to get her back. You’re fucking crazy, man,” Sapnap laughed humorlessly, head shaking.

“All’s fair in love and war, Sapnap. Are you in or not?” Dream placed his hands on the table, fully prepared to take the gold back. He could do this on his own, but it would be so much easier if he had help from someone who was unrecognizable.

Sapnap thumbed through the coins in the back, sighing and shaking his head. “I’m in, but you’re a crazy son of a bitch, you know that? This better be fucking worth it.” He snatched the bag closer to him, and Dream only grinned.

“If you’re successful, I’ll pay you more,” Dream promised, green eye sparkling with an almost sadistic joy. “Just make sure your parents don’t find out.” With the words, he turned on his heel. He walked out of the house, a smug grin on his face. Finally, maybe he could get what he wanted.

Next Chapter | >

[cozy-the-overlord]

Cozy’s Masterlist

Here are all the stories I’ve posted to Tumblr as of 5/2/24.

Thanks so much for reading! :)

Original Works

Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince

Word Count: 1,888

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: She came to the school with a singular goal: to be crowned Miss Americana at the End of Year ceremony. But with the crown comes clarity, and she may not like what she sees.

Based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Getaway Car

Word Count: 4,618

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Everything had been going so well until he almost hit the bride…

Based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Safe and Sound

Word Count: 2,836

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Since the war ripped through her village and took her husband from her, Ainsley’s only priority has been shielding her young daughter from the violence. At night, she fears even that is too much to ask for.

Based on the Taylor Swift song of the same name

Viva La Vida

Word Count: 1,155

Chapters: 1/1

Summary: He built his empire from the dust and dirt with his bare hands, high above anything the men of his court had ever dared to dream. But he failed to see that his castles stand upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand.

Based on the Coldplay song of the same name

Fanfiction

Until Tomorrow

Word Count: 2,463

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Reader

Summary: Quarantine by itself is lonely enough. Quarantine amidst a rainstorm of biblical proportions is downright depressing. Lucky for you, a visitor arrives just in time to keep you company.

Dances and Daggers

Word Count: 51,970

Chapters: 18/18

1: The Dagger; 2: The Piano; 3. The Wish; 4. The Indiscretion; 5: The Aftermath; 6: The Discovery; 7: The Gatekeeper; 8: The Musician; 9: The Practice; 10: The Consequences; 11: The Games; 12: The Letter; 13: The Apothecary; 14: The Reckoning; 15: The Truth; 16: The Unveiling; 17: The Resolution; 18: The End

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Attached

Word Count: 3,518

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: Her master warned her not to get too attached. If only she had listened.

AU where Asgard and Star Wars coexist and Loki actually died at the end of the first Thor movie.

Running with the Wolves

Word Count: 12,192

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x In-Unga

Summary: After the events of Infinity War ripped her life to pieces, Queen In-Unga forges forward as sole ruler of Jotunheim, finding solace in the two orphaned wolf puppies she finds outside her sleigh.

AU in which Loki didn’t die at the beginning of Infinity War– he accompanied Thor to Nidavellir, then to Wakanda, and died in the Snap alongside the Avengers.

Based on Frostbite by @maiden-of-asgard​

Crimson Curls

Word Count: 15,307

Chapters: 3/3

1: Disappearance; 2: Perception; 3: Solace

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: A barista at the Avengers Tower coffeeshop goes missing. Her boyfriend, prominent Avengers engineer Michael Hauer, headlines a desperate campaign to find her, aided by the support of Tony Stark and the rest of the super-powered team. But as Hauer’s narrative begins to unravel, it becomes clear that a certain Asgardian prince knows more than he’s telling.

Christmas Across the Stars

Word Count: 2,938

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: A backlogged mission on Jotunheim means Piper’s going to miss Christmas with her family this year. At least she’s not completely alone.

Written for @the-emo-asgardian​‘s ‘Tis The Season Writing Challenge on the prompt “snowed in and unable to get to family”

Now, Forever, and Always

Word Count: 7,031

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: She was perfect—intelligent, entertaining, kind, beautiful… but mortal. Loki was determined not to lose her.

Whole

Word Count: 2,809

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: After surviving years of torture at the hands of the Mad Titan Thanos, a broken, weary Loki returns home to find his childhood sweetheart has moved on with another man.

For the Lobster of Loki

Word Count: 2,850

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Exposure to terrigen mist during a mission-gone-wrong results in you developing some newfound aquatic abilities. Unfortunately, this opens the door for your Avengers teammates to make use of the bane of your existence: fish puns.

Look at Me

Word Count: 1,799

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Medusa

Summary: Medusa didn’t get many visitors. Those she did usual were there seeking her head. But there’s something different about this stranger …

Just One Last Word

Word Count: 4,360

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: As children, she swore she’d become the greatest author in all of Asgard. Loki had his doubts.

Happiness

Word Count: 4,078

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: A daughter of Thanos, Eija had grown accustomed to the isolated nature of life on the Sanctuary. Only when her father orders her to keep watch over an injured prisoner does she begin to realize how lonely it is.

Funny Little Ups and Downs

Word Count: 3,824

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Sigyn

Summary: Loki is having a bad day. The love of his life is being sent away to marry some ridiculous Vanir prince, and there’s nothing he can do about it. Then her little sister shows up to give him a pep talk.

Severed

Word Count: 5,130

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Jedi!OFC

Summary: When the Council sends Sydaya to retrieve the tesseract, she’s forced to confront an old friend she thought she’d never see again.

Requiem

Word Count: 910

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: None

Summary: He let go, and he fell.

Sweet Duplicity

Word Count: 2,107

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: She was sent to Asgard with a mission, clear and simple. Fate had other plans.

Kiss the Girl

Word Count: 1,181

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: A night of roller-coastering has left you without a voice, Little Mermaid style. If only you had a dark haired prince of your own to kiss it better.

Masquerade

Word Count: 1,659

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: It didn’t have to be bad, Loki told himself. His parents were married through such an arrangement, and they were happy together. He would be happy too.

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Word Count: 1,663

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Sigyn

Summary: She could accept this fate, did accept this fate, if it meant that he would escape safe and sound. But Loki could never let her fall alone.

A Breath and a Whisper

Word Count: 6,273

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: None

Summary: Find me. That’s what the voice bids. Loki wants to ignore it. He’s the only one who can hear its whisper, who can see the strange symbols that appear before him everywhere he turns. He closes his eyes, tries to drown it all out, but still it persists. Find me.

Birdsong

Word Count: 1,087

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Female Reader

Summary: In the middle of the night, Loki gets up to comfort his infant daughter and thinks about how lucky he is.

Fractured

Word Count: 22,519

Chapters: 2/2

1. Before; 2. After

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x OFC

Summary: Before the Bifrost, Runa's life held everything she could possibly want-- a respected position as a warrior of Asgard, a freeing separation from her overbearing father and fainthearted brother, and a lifelong home in the arms of the love of her life. After the Bifrost, it held only sorrow.

Orange is the Happiest Color

Word Count: 2,657

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: “I had a dream that you proposed to me with an orange.” He chuckled, relaxing back into his pillow. “Did you say yes?”

Burning the Midnight Oil

Word Count: 1,858

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You’re alone and miserable, up far too late losing your mind over an essay that isn’t even due tomorrow when Loki pops in with flowers

A Friend From Work

Word Count: 5,084

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Loki pops into your lab one day at Stark Tower. Things just get weirder from there.

Taking Notes

Word Count: 1,926

Chapters 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: You need a whiteboard. Loki offers to be of assistance.

Free Fall

Word Count: 3,482

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki (Marvel) x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Tony Stark arranged for an Avengers Teambuilding Day at a local amusement park. Loki had been hoping to avoid it — he’s had enough thrills to last a lifetime time, he has no desire to seek out more — but you and your endearing enthusiasm for roller coasters convince him to come along. However, the free fall drop tower you start out with turns out to be a bit more thrilling than he bargained for.

The Lighthouse

Word count: 10,141

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

Summary: Stabbed by Kurse on Svartalfheim and fading away in his brother's arms, Loki expects to wake in Valhalla, having finally died in battle like a true Asgardian warrior. Instead, he finds himself drowning in a sea of inky black, the only light coming from the stoic tower guarding over the darkness. The woman who tends the lighthouse is as mysterious as she is caring, and Loki can't shake the feeling that she knows far more than she's telling …

The Little Thrall Girl

Word count: 4,874

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: None

Summary: A young Viking thrall sent out after dark to collect firewood finds herself hopelessly lost in the freezing cold woods. Desperate to warm herself, she turns to magic, but luckily for her, her inexperience ends up catching the attention of a benevolent god ...

Through Panes of Glass

Word count: 1,435

Chapters: 1/1

Pairing: Loki x Sigyn

Summary: A mission to an alternate timeline brings Loki face to face with a relic from his past. Against better judgment, he finds himself seeking out one far more dear.