Chapter Text
The wardrobe building within Disneyland hummed with the soft chaos of a hundred fairy tales waking up. Garment bags rustled. Curling irons clicked on. Somewhere down the hall someone was singing the last notes of “Part of Your World” while searching for a missing hairbrush.
Gwyn slipped through the cast member door with a coffee in one hand and her ID lanyard swinging against her chest. The moment it beeped her through the gate, the world shifted. Outside was Anaheim traffic and early sunlight. Inside was wigs, glitter, and kingdoms.
“Morning, Gwyn!” called Deirdre from costuming, already halfway buried in a rack of sea-green skirts; Her curly, black hair was in a messy bun on the top of her head.
“Morning!” Gwyn answered, setting her coffee down before sliding into the tall makeup chair in front of the mirror. The bulbs around it flared to life, bathing her in warm stage light.
Today she would be Princess Ariel.
She watched the transformation begin piece by piece. A makeup artist dabbed luminous foundation across her cheeks while another pinned her hair into a tight base for the wig. On the counter sat the familiar pieces of the character: the bright red wig curled into perfect mermaid waves, the lavender seashell top, the layered green skirt that shimmered like water when she walked.
It never quite stopped feeling magical. One moment she was Gwyn in leggings and a loose sweater. The next, she belonged to the sea.
The door burst open.
“Tell me why,” Nesta announced, voice already sharp with morning irritation, “Cassian thinks it is acceptable to practice Thor poses in the hallway before eight in the morning.”
Gwyn laughed immediately, nearly smearing her eyeliner.
Nesta stalked into the room in her street clothes, already carrying the long platinum braid that would soon become Queen Elsa. Even without the costume, she had the posture of someone who ruled a kingdom and was deeply unimpressed with it.
“He said something about ‘getting into character,’” Nesta continued, dropping into the chair beside Gwyn’s station. “Apparently that involves flexing.”
“Maybe the hammer is heavy,” Gwyn suggested sweetly.
“Maybe he should drop it on his foot.”
The door opened again, this time more gently.
Emerie slipped inside with the quiet confidence that made every costume look like it had been designed for her personally. She held a garment bag embroidered with gold thread.
“Good morning, princesses,” she said.
“Good morning, other princess,” Gwyn replied.
Emerie unzipped the bag just enough for the bright turquoise and gold of Princess Jasmine’s outfit to peek out. Even folded, it sparkled.
“You’re friends with Ariel today?” Emerie asked, leaning against the counter.
Gwyn nodded carefully while the makeup artist brushed coral across her cheeks.
“Grotto meet-and-greet this morning,” she said. “Then parade.”
“Oh, I think we're going to be really busy today, the parking lot was packed,” Emerie said. “I passed three families in full mermaid shirts before I even clocked in.”
Gwyn grinned.
“I love the mermaid kids.”
“You love all the kids,” Nesta muttered.
“Not true.”
“Name one you don’t.”
“There was that teenageger with the eye patch yesterday who tried to steal my fork.”
Emerie laughed.
“That is extremely on brand.”
Across the room, Deirdre lifted the Ariel wig with ceremonial care and settled it over Gwyn’s pinned hair. The bright red curls framed her face instantly, dramatic and unmistakable.
Gwyn turned towards the mirror.
There she was.
Ariel stared back.
For a moment she imagined the first little girl who would run up to her that morning. The way their eyes always widened like the ocean had just opened in front of them.
“Okay,” Gwyn said softly, a smile beginning to bloom.
Emerie clasped her hands. “Oh that’s a good Ariel smile.”
Nesta rolled her eyes but a tiny grin tugged at her mouth. “Give it three hours,” she said. “Then you’ll be trading sea shells for a Tylenol.”
“And loving every second of it,” Gwyn replied.
Down the hallway someone shouted, “Thor, stop spinning the hammer indoors!”
Nesta closed her eyes slowly. “Unbelievable.”
Emerie leaned closer to Gwyn and whispered, “Ten dollars says she freezes him before lunch.”
Gwyn laughed, already standing as Deirdre helped fasten the shimmering skirt around her waist.
Outside the dressing room door, the park was waking fully now. Music drifted faintly through the backstage corridors. The scent of popcorn floated in the air.
Backstage, the dressing rooms continued to buzz like a beehive full of glitter. Costumes were pulled off racks, wigs perched on foam heads and somewhere down the hall someone practiced a heroic Avengers laugh that could only be Cassian.
Gwyn was fastening the last pearl clasp at the back of Ariel’s seashell top when the door opened.
Mor stepped in first.
Even in street clothes she carried sunshine with her. Draped over her arm was the golden-purple dress of Rapunzel, its embroidery catching the light like tiny constellations.
Emerie’s entire posture changed the moment she saw her.
“Well,” Emerie said, trying very poorly to sound casual, “look who escaped her tower.”
Mor grinned. “My kingdom doesn’t carry coffee.”
Emerie crossed the room before anyone could blink and kissed her. It was quick, soft, the kind of kiss that felt less like a declaration and more like a habit they had fallen into naturally. Mor’s hand slipped briefly into Emerie’s hair; Emerie’s thumb brushed Mor’s cheek like she had done it a thousand times before.
Nesta looked up from fixing her platinum braid.
“I would like it formally noted,” she said dryly, “that I would read the hell out of a sapphic romance between Rapunzel and Princess Jasmine on AO3.”
Emerie burst out laughing.
“‘The Princess and the Lamp,’” she suggested.
Mor snorted. “That sounds like a furniture store.”
“Fine,” Nesta said. “‘Riding her Magic Carpet.’”
“Stop,” Mor wheezed.
Gwyn watched them, smiling as she slid the final bang of Ariel’s bright red wig into place.
There was something soft about the way Emerie and Mor existed together. Easy. Familiar. Like two people who had discovered the exact rhythm of each other’s breathing.
Gwyn felt a small, quiet tug in her chest. She wondered, briefly, if she would ever meet someone like that. Someone who felt inevitable. Someone who looked at her the way Emerie looked at Mor.
Someone like a prince from a story.
Prince Charming, she thought.
Then Deirdre clapped her hands. “Alright, mermaid! Park’s open in ten.”
Fairy tales waited for no one.
🩵💙🩵
By the time Gwyn stepped out to her grotto, Disneyland had exploded into color and noise. Children in princess dresses. Parents with strollers. The smell of churros and sunscreen. Music floating through the air like glitter.
The moment Gwyn settled into Ariel’s little sea-themed seat, the line formed.
The first child approached slowly, clutching a stuffed Flounder.
“Hello!” Gwyn said brightly. “Oh my goodness, you brought my best friend!”
The girl gasped.
“You know him?!”
“I do! We swim together all the time.”
The child stared at her with wide eyes.
“Can you sing?”
Gwyn leaned closer conspiratorially.
“I’m saving my voice for my show with my sisters later.”
“Your sisters?”
“Of course!” Gwyn counted on her fingers. “There’s Attina, Alana, Adella, Aquata, Arista, and Andrina.”
The girl looked extremely impressed.
“Do you swim really fast?” another boy asked from the side.
“Very fast,” Gwyn said gravely. “But King Triton says I have to be careful near boats.”
Another child piped up.
“Where’s Flounder right now?”
“Oh,” Gwyn said thoughtfully, “he was helping Sebastian organize a concert this morning.”
“Do you have a crown?”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “But someday maybe.”
“Can you breathe underwater forever?”
“Mostly! Though sometimes I come up for sea breeze.”
The questions came in waves.
Hundreds of them.
How old are you?
Can you ride sharks?
Did you really meet a prince?
Where do mermaids sleep?
Gwyn answered every single one like it was the most fascinating question she had ever heard.
The kids were endlessly adorable. The parents were mostly sweet. The occasional adult man who leaned in too close and said things like “You’re the prettiest mermaid here” made her skin crawl. She smiled politely anyway. Professional. Bright. Ariel through and through. Inside, she thought, Sir. Please go away. But the kids balanced it out.
A little boy hugged her before leaving and whispered, “Tell Flounder I said hi.”
Another girl announced she was going to grow up and become a mermaid too.
By the end of her first session Gwyn’s cheeks hurt from smiling.
🩵💙🩵
The dressing room that evening looked like a battlefield made of glitter. Wigs sat crooked on stands. Shoes were kicked off under chairs. Someone had abandoned half a churro on the makeup counter.
Gwyn peeled off Ariel’s wig with a sigh of relief.
Nesta stormed in moments later, still half dressed as Elsa.
“You will not believe the man I encountered today.”
Emerie glanced up while folding Jasmine’s turquoise sash.
“Oh this should be good.”
Nesta dropped into a chair dramatically. “This father walks up with his wife and his children and says to me-” she made a horrified face “‘Wow, Elsa is so cold she makes me stiff.’”
Emerie choked.
Gwyn stared.
“He thought that was appropriate?” Gwyn said.
“Yes.”
“What did you do?” Emerie asked.
“I laughed like it was a joke,” Nesta said flatly. “And told him the cold never bothered me anyway.”
Emerie burst out laughing.
“That is the most Elsa shutdown imaginable.”
“But he was so gross,” Nesta added, scrubbing glitter from her eyelids. “I wanted to freeze him solid.”
Emerie leaned back in her chair.
“Well at least you ignored him,” she said. “On a side note, I think the guy playing Aladdin has a crush on me.”
Nesta smirked. “Does he know you’re gay?”
“That’s what I’m wondering.”
Gwyn laughed.
“Maybe he wants to take a ride on your magic carpet.”
“Please no,” Emerie groaned.
The room dissolved into giggles.
After a moment Nesta stretched. “So,” she said. “Evening plans?”
Emerie brightened. “Mor and I are going out. Dinner and a movie.”
“Adorable,” Gwyn said.
Nesta shrugged. “Cassian invited me to a club.”
Both Gwyn and Emerie looked at each other instantly. Then they smirked.
“Oh?” Emerie said.
Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Do not start.”
“You like him,” Gwyn sang.
“I do not.”
“You absolutely do,” Emerie said.
“He’s an idiot.”
“An attractive idiot.”
Nesta threw a makeup sponge at them.
“What about you, Gwyn?” Emerie asked.
Gwyn slipped her sweater back on and grabbed her backpack.
“I’m going back to the house,” she said. “I have to work on my book.”
Nesta blinked. “You spent eight hours pretending to be a mermaid and you’re going to write about fantasy worlds for hours?"
“Yes.”
Emerie grinned. “She’s got to write about her thingamabobs.”
“If I don't do it now, I won't do it later.”
Nesta rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile. “Fine. I’ll drop you off at the house before I go out.”
“Don’t you need to change?” Emerie asked.
“I’ve learned to keep a spare outfit in the truck.” Nesta winked.
Outside, the park lights were beginning to glow, turning the evening into something golden and dreamy.
Another day of fairy tales finished.
Tomorrow, they would do it all again.
🩵💙🩵
By the time they reached the townhouse, the sky had deepened into twilight.
Nesta pulled up to the curb and cut the engine. “Go write your masterpiece,” she said.
Gwyn smiled, slinging her bag over her shoulder. “Try not to fall in love with the god of thunder.”
Nesta snorted. “Get out of my car.”
Gwyn laughed and slipped out, closing the door behind her.
The townhouse sat on a quiet street not far from Disneyland Park, tucked into one of those neat Anaheim communities where every lawn looked freshly brushed and the sidewalks smelled faintly of orange blossoms in the evening.
It was the kind of place built in warm California tones. Cream stucco walls. Terracotta roof tiles. Little wrought iron balcony rails. The landscaping was tidy, there were massive human sized succulents for a garden, palm trees swaying lazily over the driveway, small beds of lavender planted along the walkways.
Technically it was a townhouse complex, but it felt more like a cluster of cheerful Mediterranean cottages standing shoulder to shoulder.
Gwyn’s grandmother, Adara, owned the unit outright. She had moved to Florida two years ago to live near the beach with her second husband Helion, leaving the place to Gwyn with one simple instruction: keep the plants alive and don’t burn the kitchen down.
Because of that, the rent was laughably cheap for Anaheim.
Which was why four Disney performers, one being an inspiring writer lived there.
The townhouse itself was a comfortable three-bedroom layout. Downstairs held a bright living room with big windows that poured golden sunlight across the hardwood floors. The furniture was mismatched but cozy, thrifted couches layered with colorful blankets, a low coffee table constantly cluttered with water bottles, books, and the occasional stray piece of a wig that somehow followed them home from work.
The kitchen was open to the living room, with white cabinets, speckled quartz countertops, and a narrow bar where Emerie liked to perch while eating cereal at midnight.
Upstairs were the bedrooms.
Out back, the complex opened into a private hedged off backyard with a surprisingly beautiful pool. Not a sad rectangle of chlorinated water, but a big curved lagoon shape surrounded by palm trees and cushioned lounge chairs. The water glowed turquoise under the lights at night, and someone was always swimming there after late shifts at the park.
Inside, the townhouse was quiet.
She kicked off her shoes and headed straight for her room, shutting the door softly behind her. Her bag landed on the bed as she crossed to her desk.
Her bedroom looked like a little pocket of sunlight and seafoam.
Her style leaned heavily bohemian, soft and warm and a little bit dreamy.
A woven macramé tapestry hung above her bed. The bed itself was low to the ground, covered in layers of textured blankets in sandy beige, soft coral, and pale teal. Pillows were piled everywhere, embroidered, tasseled, patterned with tiny seashells. A pile of her favorite stuffies sat in the corner of her room. String lights ran along the ceiling beams, casting a soft golden glow that made the room feel permanently like sunset. She always felt warm when she stepped inside.
There were plants everywhere. Trailing pothos vines hung from the curtain rod. A big monstera plant stretched towards the window. Little ceramic pots of succulents sat along her bookshelf guarding her precious books like tiny green guardians.
Her desk sat beside the window where the California sun streamed in every afternoon. The desk was the only part of the room that looked less whimsical and more… intense.
It wasn’t messy. Not at all.
If anything, it was too clean.
Too precise.
Stacks of notebooks sat in perfect alignment, each one labeled in careful handwriting. Pens were arranged in a ceramic holder by color; blacks and blues in the front, brighter colors fanning out behind like a gradient she’d redone more times than she could count. Sticky notes were squared into neat little piles.
Highlighters lined up edge to edge like soldiers awaiting inspection.
A picture of her and Cat stood lovingly at the side.
Her laptop sat at the center of it all.
Closed.
Waiting.
Gwyn slowed as she approached, her earlier confidence slipping somewhere between the doorway and the desk.
It shouldn’t feel like this.
It was just writing.
Just her story.
The moment she stopped in front of the chair, something in her chest tightened. The desk suddenly felt too big. The space too quiet. The expectations, entirely her own, pressed in on her shoulders.
What if it wasn’t good tonight?
What if she opened it and hated everything she’d written?
What if she’d lost it; that thread, that feeling, that spark that made the story work in the first place?
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
For a second, she considered turning away. Grabbing a snack. Taking a shower. Queuing up Netflix. Telling herself she’d start in an hour.
Instead, she pulled out the chair and sat.
Slowly.
Carefully.
Like the wrong movement might send the whole thing crumbling.
She exhaled.
Then reached for the nearest notebook.
Routine.
She just needed her routine.
Gwyn straightened the stack of notebooks even though they were already straight. She adjusted them half an inch to the left. Then back again. Her pens came next; she pulled them out of the holder, one by one, realigning them into a cleaner gradient. Dark to light. Cool tones to warm. She swapped two reds, frowned, then swapped them back.
Better.
Her highlighters followed.
Then her sticky notes.
By the time she was done, everything was perfect.
Exactly how she liked it.
Exactly how it needed to be.
The tightness in her chest loosened, just slightly.
Okay.
She could do this.
Gwyn reached forward and flipped open her laptop. The screen blinked to life, soft light reflecting in her eyes. For a moment, she just stared at it. Then she clicked into her folders.
Stories.
A long list appeared, half-finished ideas, abandoned drafts, little sparks of inspiration she’d captured and tucked away for later. Titles ranging from vague to overly dramatic. Some she hadn’t touched in months.
Her cursor hovered.
Then moved.
She clicked into the one she knew by heart. The one she always came back to.
Her siren story.
Enemies to lovers.
The document loaded slowly, like it was making her wait on purpose.
Gwyn swallowed.
Then it opened.
🩵💙🩵
Gwyn had been at her desk for what felt like ten hours but was most likely three when she heard the front door open downstairs, followed by the sound of laughter drifting upward.
Emerie and Mor, probably returning from their date.
Gwyn smiled faintly.
She sat back up, stretched her stiff limbs, and kept writing.
“He held her frozen body to his chest,” she muttered while typing.
Outside her window, palm trees swayed gently in the warm night.
Gwyn continued to write.
***
Morning arrived softly in the house, sunlight slipping through the blinds and painting warm stripes across the hallway walls.
Gwyn shuffled out of her room half awake, hair still tangled from sleep, wearing an oversized Little Mermaid T-shirt and fuzzy socks.
She blinked once.
Then twice.
Because standing in the hallway, just outside Nesta’s door, was Cassian.
Very shirtless.
He had one hand on the bedroom door and was stretching his shoulders like a man who had absolutely no idea he was currently the most startling thing Gwyn had seen before coffee.
Gwyn froze.
Good lord.
She had always thought Cassian looked the part when he performed as Thor in the park’s Avengers shows.
But seeing him in the quiet morning light was something else entirely.
Muscles everywhere. Shoulders like a marble statue. Hair messy from sleep.
Gwyn thought, somewhat dazedly:
I have never in my life seen that many muscles.
Cassian noticed her standing there.
He grinned immediately.
“Morning, Gwynie.”
Gwyn leaned casually against the wall, crossing her arms with a smirk.
“Morning, Cassie.”
He turned to open the bathroom door.
She tilted her head sweetly.
“Need directions to the bathroom?”
Cassian snorted. “No. I’ve been here before.”
He stepped past her.
Then he froze.
Because he had clearly just realized what he had said.
Gwyn’s eyebrows lifted slowly.
Cassian’s ears turned bright red. “…I mean,” he tried.
Gwyn said nothing.
She simply smiled.
Cassian muttered something unintelligible and hurried into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. As he passed her, Gwyn noticed something else.
Thin red nail marks trailing down his back.
She covered her mouth to stifle a giggle.
The kitchen smelled like sunlight and coffee.
Gwyn padded downstairs and started the machine, the familiar gurgle filling the quiet house. She toasted a bagel and spread a thick layer of cream cheese across it while the morning light poured through the windows.
She had just taken her first glorious sip of coffee when footsteps descended the stairs.
Nesta appeared in her line of sight. Her hair was loose and slightly chaotic. She wore leggings and one of what Gwyn assumed was Cassian’s black hoodies since it swallowed her whole.
She stopped the moment she saw Gwyn.
Gwyn took another slow sip of coffee.
Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Don’t.”
Gwyn raised an innocent brow. “Don’t what?”
Nesta pointed a finger at her with a scowl that wasn’t actually mean. “Don’t say anything.”
Gwyn drank her coffee.
Silently.
The stairs creaked again.
Cassian wandered down the stairs pulling on a T-shirt, looking far too cheerful for this early in the morning.
Right behind him came Emerie and Mor.
Emerie’s eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.
Mor slowly leaned around Cassian’s shoulder and stared at Nesta.
Then the silent communication began.
Emerie pointed subtly at Cassian.
Then at Nesta.
Then made a dramatic face.
Mor mouthed DID THEY HOOK UP?
Gwyn watched all of this unfold while sipping coffee like it was morning television.
Nesta ignored them completely and took a seat at the kitchen island with her own mug.
Cassian wandered over behind her. Without warning, he leaned down and took a giant bite of her bagel.
Nesta whipped around and tried to swat him. “You brute!”
Cassian dodged easily, grinning. He leaned down and murmured into her ear. “You like it.”
Nesta’s cheeks flushed pink immediately.
Emerie slapped a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing.
Mor looked delighted.
Cassian straightened, stretching like a cat in the sunlight. “Well,” he said brightly, “beautiful morning.” He looked around the kitchen. “Everyone working today?”
“Yep,” Gwyn said.
“Yeah,” Emerie answered.
“Unfortunately,” Nesta and Mor muttered.
Cassian nodded.
“Oh, by the way. My brother finished performer training yesterday.”
Mor perked up instantly. “Azriel?”
“Yeah,” Cassian said. “Today’s his first official day performing.”
Gwyn tilted her head. “What character?”
Cassian grinned. “The Mandalorian.”
Mor leaned back against the counter. “I haven’t seen Azriel in forever,” she said. “We grew up together.”
Cassian shrugged. “Hasn’t changed much. Broody bat in human form.”
Nesta sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “I cannot imagine wearing a mask all day.”
“Right?” Gwyn said. “I’d suffocate.”
Emerie brightened. “We need to give him a nice welcome.”
“Yes,” Gwyn agreed immediately.
Nesta nodded once. “Of course.”
Cassian grinned like he had expected exactly that. “He’s a good guy,” he said. “I think he’ll fit right in.” He grabbed an apple from the counter and headed towards the door. “C’mon, princesses. Time to go make magic.”
A little while later they were piling into the car, the morning warm and bright around them. Another day at Disneyland Park awaited, and somewhere inside the park, a brand new Mandalorian was about to make his debut.
Nesta’s truck rumbled down the street.
It was an old vintage pickup, the kind people slowed down to admire at stoplights. The paint was a soft baby blue, slightly faded in places, with polished chrome mirrors and a bench seat that had seen decades of road trips and coffee spills.
All four girls were squeezed across the cab.
Nesta drove, hands tight on the steering wheel. Emerie sat beside her, Mor sat on Emerie’s lap and Gwyn was tucked against the passenger door with her bag at her feet.
It was cozy in the chaotic way only close friends could tolerate.
Emerie tapped her finger on the dashboard.
“You know,” she said, “I didn’t know Cassian rode a motorcycle.”
Mor perked up instantly. “He rode his bike over?”
Emerie nodded. “You missed him ride off into the sunrise. Nesta couldn’t keep her eyes off him.”
She tilted her head towards Nesta. “If I rode a motorcycle, I’d be talking about it constantly.” Mor grinned.
Nesta kept her eyes firmly on the road.
Gwyn noticed her grip tighten slightly on the wheel.
“…He’s a great rider,” Nesta muttered.
Emerie smirked. “Is that right?”
Nesta exhaled slowly, clearly regretting speaking. “I saw him riding a few times,” she admitted.
The girls waited.
Nesta’s ears turned faintly pink. “He looked…” she hesitated.
Mor leaned forward eagerly. “Looked?”
Nesta scowled at the road. “…hot.”
Emerie and Gwyn burst out laughing.
“Especially with the helmet on,” Nesta added quickly, as if that somehow made it better.
Mor cackled.
Nesta rolled her eyes but there was no hiding the small smile tugging at her mouth. “I wouldn’t mind if he took me for a ride,” she added dryly.
The truck erupted with laughter again.
Gwyn rested her head against the window, smiling. “Seems like he already did this morning.”
“And three times last night.” Nesta muttered. The girls laughed.
Her mind wandered briefly to the endless stream of videos she saw on TikTok late at night. All those mysterious masked men edits. Motorcycle helmets. The occasional Ghostface cosplay. Dark lighting. Leather jackets.
She thought, with a small private grin, Okay, yeah…those are hot.
Meanwhile, Mor had launched into an enthusiastic speech.
“I would be so cool on a motorcycle,” she declared.
Emerie nodded seriously. “You absolutely would babe.”
“I’d wear leather.”
“You’d look incredible.”
“Wind in my hair.”
Nesta snorted. “You’d crash in the first five minutes.”
Mor gasped. “Rude.”
The truck rolled towards the employee entrance of Disneyland Park, the tops of castle towers and rides peeking above the trees in the distance.
Another day of magic awaited.
***
The performer dressing area buzzed with energy.
Deirdre worked like a general commanding an army.
“Arms up,” she told Gwyn.
Gwyn lifted her arms while Deirdre fastened the shimmering green Ariel skirt around her waist.
Across the room Emerie was stepping into Jasmine’s turquoise outfit, gold trim glinting under the lights. Mor sat patiently while someone finished adjusting the long golden hair of Rapunzel. Nesta stood like a statue while Deirdre draped the icy blue cape of Elsa over her shoulders.
Within minutes the room had transformed.
Princesses everywhere.
Deirdre clapped once. “Perfect. Go make magic.”
Cassian was leaning against the wall waiting for them.
He was fully dressed as Thor, complete with armor, cape, and the enormous hammer resting casually on his shoulder. He straightened when he saw them. “Well, if it isn’t royalty.” His eyes landed on Nesta. “Do you like my hammer?”
Nesta folded her arms.
“I don’t think you can handle all of that.”
Emerie muttered, “You seemed to last night.”
Nesta elbow Emerie.
Gwyn covered her mouth to hide a laugh.
Cassian grinned like a man who had absolutely walked into that trap willingly.
Mor glanced at the time. “Oh! I have to go meet Flynn.” She blew Emerie a quick kiss. “See you at lunch.” She hurried down the hallway to meet her performer partner playing Flynn Rider.
Cassian watched her go.
Then his attention shifted past the girls.
“Hey, man.”
The girls turned.
Walking towards them was a tall figure cloaked in browns and silver.
Helmet.
Cape.
A baby Yoda, swinging in a brown satchel at his hip.
A full Mandalorian performer costume.
Gwyn blinked.
She had seen plenty of Mandalorian performers around the park before.
But this one seemed…different.
Taller.
Broader in the shoulders.
More solid.
He carried himself with a quiet stillness that felt almost cinematic.
The masked performer approached them.
Cassian slung an arm around his shoulders.
“Ladies,” he said proudly, “this is my brother. Be nice to him, it’s his first day.”
The Mandalorian helmet tilted slightly towards them. A mechanical voice came through the costume’s voice modulator, triggered by a small hand gesture controller hidden in the glove. “Hello.”
The voice sounded deep. Distorted. Perfect.
Gwyn stared.
The technology fascinated her. The costume used a small gesture device that allowed the performer to trigger the modulated voice lines so the character sounded closer to the real thing.
Still, it left her intensely curious.
She wondered what he looked like under the helmet, and what his real voice sounded like.
Emerie waved. “Nice to meet you, Azriel.”
“Good luck today,” Nesta added.
Gwyn smiled warmly. “First days are always scary. You’ll do great.”
The helmet dipped in a small nod. “Thank you.”
Emerie glanced at the time. “See you guys on break.”
One by one they peeled off towards their performance zones. Princesses heading into their kingdoms. Heroes heading into their battles.
And somewhere in the park that morning, Ariel and The Mandalorian would both be making magic for guests who believed the stories were real.
🩵💙🩵
Their full lunch break arrived like a tiny oasis in the middle of the park’s whirlwind day. Behind the polished facades of Disneyland Park were the quiet arteries that guests never saw. Narrow corridors, cast lounges, vending machines humming beside old couches, and long tables where performers sat eating while still half inside their stories.
In one of the backstage break rooms just behind the edge of Fantasyland, Gwyn found the others gathered around a wooden table.
Nesta, still dressed as Elsa, sat with one leg crossed over the other, sipping a Dr Pepper.
Emerie lounged beside her in full Princess Jasmine turquoise, a small bag of Flamin' Hot Cheetos open in her lap.
Mor’s golden braid draped over the back of her chair, still every inch Rapunzel.
Gwyn sat down with her lunch, a neat little container holding a chicken pesto quinoa bowl she’d grabbed from the cast cafeteria.
Nesta was mid-story. “…and I swear,” she was saying with a grimace, “the poor girl playing Alice had a Code V.”
Mor winced immediately. “Oh no.”
Emerie gagged a little.
Nesta nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I walked into the changing room and the smell hit me like a truck.”
“Stop,” Mor groaned.
“I’m serious. It was awful.”
Emerie leaned back dramatically. “I would simply pass away.”
Nesta knocked lightly on the table. “Knock on wood,” she said. “That has never happened to me.”
All three girls visibly cringed.
“Do not jinx yourself,” Gwyn said quickly.
Before Nesta could respond, a booming voice echoed through the break area.
“LADIES!”’
Half the room groaned.
Cassian strode into the lounge still in full Thor armor, cape swinging behind him as he dramatically twirled his enormous hammer. “Make way for the God of Thunder!”
Several performers rolled their eyes.
Nesta did it the hardest. Still, she took another slow sip of her Dr Pepper, watching him over the rim of the cup with a look that was…not entirely unimpressed.
Gwyn noticed.
Emerie noticed too.
Neither of them said a word.
Cassian plopped down beside them, hammer clunking against the floor.
And then Gwyn noticed someone behind him. A tall figure. The unmistakable silhouette of The Mandalorian. Cassian’s brother.
Azriel.
He walked up to the table quietly, cape trailing behind him.
Then, slowly, he reached up and removed the mask.
Gwyn’s brain stopped working.
Oh.
Oh no.
She had been expecting…someone broody maybe. Quiet. Intimidating.
What she had not expected was an absolute smoke show.
Azriel’s jawline was sharp enough to look sculpted. His skin was warm from the heat of the costume, his cheeks slightly pink. Dark stubble dusted along his jaw and chin. His eyes were hazel. Beautiful hazel. Framed by long lashes that honestly felt unfair. His hair was short but messy in the front, slightly damp with sweat and curling naturally where it fell over his forehead.
Gwyn stared.
I am losing my mind, she thought faintly.
Heat rushed straight into her face.
She bit her lip before she could stop herself.
Across the table, Nesta looked him up and down. “Oh my God, Cassian,” she said.
Cassian turned.
Nesta pointed at Azriel. “Your brother is so…hot.”
There was a pause.
Nesta blinked. “…I meant sweaty,” she corrected immediately. “I meant-”
Emerie looked up from her Flamin' Hot Cheetos, one halfway in her mouth. “Yeah,” she said slowly. “I totally agree. He looks…sweaty.”
Mor buried her face in her hands.
Gwyn gulped audibly.
The sound was loud enough that Nesta and Emerie both looked at her.
Gwyn stared down at her quinoa bowl like it might save her.
Azriel pulled out a chair and sat down with them.
Then he spoke.
And Gwyn felt something inside her short circuit.
His voice was deep. Smooth. Warm in a way that made it feel like it belonged narrating some incredibly dramatic audiobook at three in the morning. “Hello,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you all.”
Her toes curled inside her shoes.
Azriel glanced around the table. “Cassian has said very nice things about everyone.”
Cassian puffed his chest proudly.
Gwyn tried to eat her lunch.
She really did.
She scooped up a bite of chicken and quinoa and lifted it towards her mouth.
But her brain kept replaying:
Hazel eyes.
Sweaty curls.
That voice.
She chewed carefully.
Very carefully.
Because she was suddenly very concerned that she might choke to death in front of the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life.
Lunch settled into a comfortable rhythm around the table in the backstage lounge. Costumes rustled as performers shifted in their seats. A few capes trailed across the floor. Someone at a nearby table was carefully eating fries while still wearing half of a pirate coat.
At Gwyn’s table, conversation had drifted towards Azriel.
Cassian had leaned back in his chair while his brother spoke, clearly enjoying watching the girls get to know him.
Azriel rested his elbows on the table, still half in his layered costume. Without the mask he looked much more approachable, though the outfit still gave him a slightly intimidating edge.
“So what have you been doing before this?” Mor asked curiously, brushing the golden braid of Rapunzel over her shoulder.
Azriel shrugged lightly. “Traveling, mostly.”
Gwyn perked up immediately. “Traveling where?”
“All over,” he said. “Across the country, parts of Canada, Mexico. A little bit of Europe. I wanted to see things before settling into anything long term.”
Emerie whistled softly.
“That sounds incredible.”
Azriel nodded. “It was. But I needed something stable for a while. I’m saving up for my next trip.”
“Where to?” Gwyn asked.
He looked at her. “Tokyo.”
Her eyes widened. “You want to go to Tokyo?”
“Yeah,” he said simply.
Gwyn felt something spark with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to go there,” she admitted quickly. “The food, the city lights, the temples, everything.”
Azriel’s expression softened slightly. “It’s at the top of my list.”
Gwyn felt heat creep up her neck again.
This man is the hottest person I’ve ever seen, she thought helplessly.
Which was making the next part of lunch increasingly irritating.
Because other performers kept walking up.
Mostly women.
A Belle performer stopped to say hello.
Then Snow White, talking to him about the weather and how hot it was.
Gwyn smiled politely through all of it while mentally screaming.
Go away.
Then someone else approached the table.
Ianthe.
Today she was friends with Cinderella, her pale blue gown shimmering under the fluorescent break room lights.
Gwyn’s stomach sank.
Oh great.
In Gwyn’s opinion, Ianthe was…a lot.
The kind of person who somehow managed to stir drama while smiling sweetly the entire time.
Seriously unhinged, Gwyn thought.
And somehow she always got away with it.
Ianthe leaned casually on the table. “Cassian,” she greeted brightly.
Nesta’s stare towards Ianthe could burn a hole through her skull.
Then Ianthe’s gaze drifted to Azriel. “Well hello.” She reached out and touched his bicep lightly.
Gwyn saw red.
In her head she thought, very calmly, I hope Cinderella trips and breaks her neck in those glass heels.
Across the table Azriel visibly stiffened. Then he leaned back slightly, politely but clearly moving away from her touch. “Nice to meet you,” he said evenly.
Ianthe lingered a moment longer, but his body language made it obvious the conversation wasn’t going anywhere. She forced a small smile. “Well, I should get back to the ball,” she said breezily before walking off.
Azriel watched her go, then glanced at the group. “That Cinderella seemed a little too…friendly,” he said dryly. “I think she was trying to skip straight to the happily-ever-after.”
The table burst into laughter.
Gwyn laughed hardest.
Finally, she worked up the courage to actually speak directly to him again. “So,” she said, trying to sound casual, “how’s your first shift going?”
Azriel looked at her. “It’s actually been really fun,” he said. “The kids are great. They’re all really cute.”
Gwyn’s heart warmed instantly. “Right?” she said. “That’s my favorite part.”
They slipped into easy conversation.
“Though it can get really hot in costume,” Gwyn added. She gestured lightly to her head. “The wig alone is like wearing a blanket.”
Azriel tapped the side of his metal helmet sitting on the table. “Try wearing this thing.”
Emerie laughed. “That’s fair.”
Azriel looked back at Gwyn thoughtfully.
“Well,” he said with a small smile, “the rest of you must be pretty cool.”
Gwyn blinked.
Then looked down.
Right.
Her costume.
She was essentially wearing a seashell bra.
Her face turned bright red under the red wig of Ariel.
Before she could respond, Cassian loudly clapped his hands.
“Alright,” he said. “Important question.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What’s everyone doing tonight?”
Gwyn swallowed another bite of her quinoa bowl.
“I’m writing,” she said. “I’m on a tight schedule.”
Mor shrugged. “No plans.”
“Same,” Emerie said.
Cassian leaned back dramatically. “Man,” he sighed. “I really wish I could go swimming.” He paused. “In a pool.”
Everyone at the table knew exactly what he was doing.
Nesta narrowed her eyes. “Are you trying to get me to invite you to our pool?”
Cassian lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe.”
Nesta looked at the others. “Do you guys care if we have him over?” Then she glanced at Azriel. “Him too.”
Cassian clapped his hands excitedly. “Pool party! What do you say, ladies?”
Emerie grinned. “I’m in.”
Nesta nodded. “But,” she said firmly, “you boys have to bring drinks and dessert.”
Cassian saluted. “Done.”
“Preferably chocolate cake,” Nesta added.
Emerie leaned forward.
“We’ll handle dinner.”
Gwyn shrugged lightly. “That’s fine,” she said. “But don’t expect me to get wet.”
There was a beat of silence.
Then Nesta and Emerie burst out laughing.
Mor choked on her drink.
Gwyn froze.
Realization hit her.
Her face turned almost as red as Ariel’s wig.
Azriel looked at her curiously. A small, amused smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.
Cassian stood up, stretching.
“Well,” he announced, “back to work.”
One by one they gathered their things and headed out of the break room.
In a few minutes they would step back through the hidden doors and into the bright fantasy world of Disneyland Resort.
Princesses.
Villains.
Heroes.
All returning to their stories.
And later that night…there would be a pool party waiting.