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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years ago

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Grace, Too - Director Orson Krennic x Reader (Rogue One)

🎉🎉 !!Fic Number 200!! 🎉🎉

Hollllly crap we made it. We MADE it. And as he was fic number 100, 200 had to be Krennic. HAD to be.

@wltz-bby @mandy23b @happyskywhale @missunsympathetic

Author’s Note: Good god. Oh... This SONG has a lot to answer for.

So, I was introduced to these ‘Courtly Love’ ideas, and I thought they sounded like a lot of fun, so I have a few requests based around these based on conversations. This was the first one I attempted and uh, yeah we ended up with this glorious wordcount.

Also, for my dear requestor and also dear friend @sagitariusrising Happy (Belated) Birthday! 😘💜💙 I hope this fic is everything you wanted!

Grace, Too - The Tragically Hip

Disclaimer: Premise/Idea not mine - although I did make some executive decision changes that I hope you still like / Rogue One characters not mine / some small Catalyst references.

Prompt: “A true lover is constantly and without intermission possessed by the thought of his beloved”

Premise: Orson Krennic has himself an obsession. You remind him too much of someone he once knew. Orson Krennic is dangerous. This much you know, but you are not about to heed your own warnings....

Words: 17,100

Warnings: Swearing / Possessiveness/Obsession/Yearning / Smut - like Sinday/Sunday smut.

_____

He said, I'm fabulously rich C'mon, just let's go She kinda bit her lip Geez, I don't know I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with will and determination And grace, too The secret rules of engagement Are hard to endorse When the appearance of conflict Meets the appearance of force But I can guarantee There'll be no knock on the door I'm total pro here That's what I'm here for I come from downtown Born ready for you Armed with skill and its frustration And grace, too

---

He had to admit Eadu was not his favourite planet in the galaxy. Susceptible to many a storm, Krennic had never known it not to be pouring whenever he arrived. He probably wouldn’t even have thought about travelling over at all, were his old friend Galen Erso not stationed there. True, it was an integral facility to the Death Star, but Krennic didn’t need to be here to survey operations, just receive the odd mail or two with updates. Krennic would much rather be at the heart of the weapon his was engineering; it was his project and his baby. But, he wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see Galen, and this was fairly important. He grimaced as he looked out at the rain again, hopefully this wouldn’t take too long either… *** You weren’t sure if you’d ever get used to the constant rainy patterns of weather here. No-one had ever really given you the uniform for it – having said that, how often did you really spend outside these days? A lot of your time was spent in labs pouring over facts and figures and complicated algorithms. You spent almost as much time in the labs as Galen did, which was certainly personal choice rather than because you were forced into long hours. You had two specialities: lasers and gem stones; you’d heard about the development of synthetic Kyber crystals and Galen’s work before, but you’d never beheld a real one until coming here. With the amount of effort you were putting in, you were starting to become a technical expert. (Also a little disappointed to say the least when you found out that synthetic Kyber hadn’t really worked as expected.) Still, when you and Galen weren’t working on your pet energy project – allegedly what this had been for in the first place, until the real reason for Kyber research came to the fore – you were working on the Death Star. Which was some glorified super laser, that needed Kyber to work and… well, precision focus, as any good laser should have. Kyber wasn’t only going to be used as a power source, but also to make sure that this laser had range and trajectory… and didn’t waver off that. Besides, looking at the design, although it would collectively become one laser, it started at multiple points across the span of the dish. If just one of those was wrong, would the laser even fire at all? So standing outside on the landing platform, having been summoned out here because apparently the Director of the whole project would be arriving, in the cold and wet was not your ideal start to the day. Especially as you’d been standing here for what felt like close to an hour. Where the heck was this guy? You’d heard a lot about Orson Krennic before now; not all of it was great, some of it was hearsay, but there was a lot of information you found interesting to say the least. He’d been working on this project (with or without Galen) for most of his adult life, so it didn’t surprise you that he’d be coming all the way out here for an update. You had only ever had the pleasure of being copied on emails to Krennic and the way he responded sometimes was downright scary. You were glad you’d never had to give him bad news… but with your project being what it was, it wouldn’t be long before you did have to face the wrath of his block capitals. Finally the sound of a cruiser cut through the air, by the distinctive sound it was a Delta-class T-3c. Yeah, you had a slight passion for ships too. You all stood to attention on the platform, fighting off the shivers from the wind chill, squinting for visibility through the sheet rain and trying not to get blown over either. When the door to the shuttle opened Galen stepped forward, to welcome your visitor. He was possibly around Galen’s age, and held a confidence and self-importance about him as he strode forward down the ramp. But he had grace, too. You were almost taken aback by the way Krennic smiled as he shook Galen’s hand firmly, conversation fairly urgent. You couldn’t even lip read them from here, but body language was easy to interpret and it didn’t take long for Krennic to have your boss on the back foot. But it wasn’t panic, only surprise. Galen beckoned the Director towards the facility but Krennic shook his head. This visit was clearly only to be brief; you weren’t about to have your first interaction with him after all; he wasn’t about to view your work, inspect it closely and criticize it. Maybe you were glad of that. The conversation wasn’t as fleeting as you thought, a lot of back and forth that had the rest of you shooting each other looks and wondering how much longer you had to stand to attention in the freezing weather. Eventually Galen gestured to all of you – you supposed he was saying ‘if you can’t come in, or stay very long, at least meet my team.’ Krennic seemed to consider this for a time, his eyes sweeping the line and freezing on you. Your breath caught for a moment – maybe it was just your imagination, but his gaze was certainly lingering on you, and those bright blue eyes of his were nothing short of captivating. You didn’t think you’d seen a blue like it anywhere in the galaxy. It felt like hours but it could only have been seconds before he turned back to Galen, they exchanged a few words briefly once more before Galen nodded and they shook hands again. Oh, he really was just going to leave? The Director walked brisky back towards his shuttle before turning and calling back something else that he’d clearly forgotten. Galen yelled something in response and Krennic half smiled, before his eyes flicked over Galen’s shoulder and returned to you. Yes. You were right, he was certainly focused on you. There was a rumble of thunder overhead and the lightning cracked across the sky. You had never minded the lightning; you found the colours and patterns fascinating. But those blue eyes were immediately illumined by the bright white flashes and you found yourself swallowing hard, you couldn’t place the look on his face but you weren’t sure it was so appropriate. That image was sure to haunt you. Krennic turned back, slower this time, and you found that you’d been holding your breath for quite some time.

Suddenly you didn’t think that you would mind receiving an email in block capitals from him at all. *** Galen was probably the least subtle he could possibly be when he was trying to be subtle. He’d been tiptoeing around something with you for a couple of days and it really was starting to annoy you. You slammed your stylus down on the table with a frustrated sigh and turned to him. “Galen, please, whatever it is�� just tell me. You’re making me nervous!” He blinked a few times, taken aback by your tone – as if he hadn’t been making it very obvious. “I- I don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” You laughed, “Now I certainly will! What’s going on?” “…It’s not my idea, but it is my decision.” “What is?” You suddenly became scared yourself, “Are you firing me-!?” Galen’s eyes widened and he held his hands up, “What? NO, no… quite the opposite. I am…” He paused and thought to rephrase his question, “They need a crystallographer on the Death Star. A good one. Someone who can keep up with the team here. One who knows what she’s talking about.” You blinked a few times, before you understood, “You’re… sending me to the Death Star?” “Yes. B- but only if you want to go!” Wouldn’t that place you directly under Krennic’s authority? Why was it suddenly an exciting prospect? “I would be honoured. This is- your decision?” “They asked me for recommendations and there was only ever one choice.” That had you beaming, “Thank you for the opportunity, Galen.” “Well, I know you won’t let the facility down. And you’re always welcome back.” You chewed your lip thoughtfully for a second, and couldn’t help but ask: “What is he really like?” “Who?” “The Director.” Galen didn’t really answer the question, although a smile twitched on his face, “We met in the Futures Program. I’ve known him a very long time… I can’t say he’s ever changed.” “So he’s an adult teenage boy?” Maybe that was the wrong thing to say, but Galen laughed. “Well, he has qualities that you’d be forgiven for thinking he was one.” “Huh.” You nodded, “I’ll keep that in mind.” “But he is brilliant, of that there is no doubt. The Death Star project may have been going a long time, but I doubt anyone else could have completed it the way he has. Sharp. Intelligent. You’ll like him, I think.” You wondered if you already did. “Well, we’ll see if I’m begging to come back any time soon-!” He chuckled gently, “Well, I certainly hope not.” It didn’t take you very long to pack up, you were practically living out of boxes as it was. And you weren’t sure if you were nervous about having to move or not. You supposed you were in two minds; you’d actually get to see and be on the Death Star while you worked – sure the plans were one thing but, once you got a feel for the actual structure, maybe you could even be a little more experimental… The advantage of being on Eadu was you could hide away in a lab and make the 10,000 mistakes to get to the one (usually accidental) breakthrough. You were the only one judging yourself here, it was quiet; out there, and under Krennic, all eyes would be on what you were doing. You’d maybe be given the leeway of 2 or 3 mistakes but none more than that. And everything would be urgent. Needed yesterday! It was a good thing that you could work under pressure. Leaving was hard, and as you hugged Galen goodbye you couldn’t help but feel a pain in your heart: “I wish it didn’t mean leaving.” “You deserve it.” “Maybe. I hope I get to come back, eventually.” “We’ll certainly welcome you with open arms!” “Take care of yourself, Galen.” “And you – if he gives you any trouble, come straight to me.” You nearly grimaced, “Noted, but I really hope it doesn’t come to that!” *** The cruiser that picked you up wasn’t his, and you were glad the journey wasn’t as long as you expected, so you didn’t have too much time to overthink what was happening to you. In fact as the Death Star loomed into view your mouth was agape – you weren’t sure you expected the sheer size of it: easy to look at some numbers on a datapad but, when it was in front of you, you thought you might have bitten off a little more than you could chew. You were equally pleased and disappointed that Krennic was neither there to pick you up or greet you on the station – mostly because you didn’t seem to be able to find any appropriate words to say. The bustle of engineers, technicians and general command staff told you you were a million miles from your lab on Eadu, and you found yourself unable to communicate in anything other than one word awe filled sentences. Thankfully the Officer who greeted you seemed to understand, and as she walked you to your lab (everyone was obviously eager for you to start!) she chuckled warmly, “Don’t worry, I was exactly the same when I arrived here. It’s a lot. You’ll get used to it – and from what I understand you’ll be a very welcome addition to our team.” “Thanks,” You swallowed hard, “yes, I understand there’s an expectation on me here.” “Well, the Director only wants the best of the best.” She keyed you into the lab and then handed you your pass, “If you’re here it’s because you are the best. And he wants you.” You tried hard not to think about that in any way other than for your work, but it was hard. Ever since that look he’d given you as he left, those vivid blue eyes filled your dreams – including those that you’d rather Krennic kept out of. As she continued talking, she snapped you back to reality: “Anyway, I will leave you to get settled in here, all your things will be sent to your quarters. I’ll have someone sent up with all the details and your datapad.” She grinned at the door before she turned to head out, “Welcome to the Death Star!” *** You spent your time unpacking all your laboratory kit - some of this work you’d only trust to go right with your own gear that much was certain - before you started examining the lab closely. Everything was, as expected, state of the art, they had every machine it was possible to get in order to aid you on your quest to get these vectors just right. If the work wasn’t quite so serious this was almost a wonderland for you. As you continued to stare around the lab, making mental notes of exactly which you would need and would be the most useful for your work, the lab doors slid open again to another visitor. You turned to explain yourself away as the new girl but immediately froze. Standing opposite you, also seemingly glued to the spot and an unreadable look on his face, was none other than Director Krennic. You weren’t sure you expected to see him so soon, and you were still thoroughly unprepared for it. He recovered better than you. “I was told my new hire had arrived. You-” He paused for a minute, head tipped, before a small smile appeared on his face, “You’re from the Eadu facility!” After all, Krennic hadn’t asked only Galen for help in recruiting – you just had the best credentials. But he certainly recognised you from that platform. “Yes, Sir, Galen sent me – he said you were looking for a good crystallographer.” “Yes. And you’re here, welcome. It’s good to finally meet you in person.” “The honour is mine, Director, I look forward to working with you.” You swallowed hard, “Believe me, it is me that is honoured… uhm?” “Oh, Y/N, Sir.” Then you blushed forgetting yourself, “Ah! Officer L/N!” That smile became a gentle smirk, “Would it be so awful for me to refer to you by your first name?” “…I’m sorry, I… It’s how we do things on Eadu, I… realise that I am not there anymore Sir, forgive me.” You could feel yourself getting hotter. “You need not be forgiven, Y/N. I’m happy to do things your way.” Krennic placed a datapad on the table in front of him, “It’s all set up correctly, I made sure of that myself. I have to make sure my researcher is well equipped on the first day of her job, after all.” On top of it he lay another access card, “You’ll need that for your room, your ID will allow you access to almost as many files as me, I figured you’ll need them.” Krennic’s blue eyes fell back on you, “Anything you can’t access you come directly to me, and anything else you need, the same. I will make sure it reaches you promptly.” “Yes, Sir.” You nodded through his explanation, “Thank you.” Krennic nodded back, looking around the room, “Tell me, how do you like the lab?” “It’s certainly state of the art. There’s probably not another one like it across the galaxy. There’s a lot I would like to explore with these devices once I’m finished with my work for the Battle Station. Time permitting.” Krennic shrugged, “Do what you will with the time that you have free. I expect you’ll work hard.” “Yes, Sir.” “Good.” He winked stepping back from you, “I will leave you to get settled, and may I welcome you to the Death Star! I’m very excited to see what you can do for us!” And by that smirk on his face, yes, you could bet… Krennic hurried back to his office cursing himself. Yes, he wanted the best – and he had absolutely no doubt that he would get it with you. He’d read every CV in great detail; obviously he’d paid more attention to those from Galen, considering the weaponry was coming from that lab, but Galen had neglected to mention that you were with him on Eadu in his note for you. You were Galen’s first choice, and Orson Krennic was not about to go against his friend’s advice. It was just your look. Not just physically, but that look on your face – he couldn’t shake it. Now he could bet that your personality would be similar just to curse him… He didn’t fall in love often, not hard. Orson could fall in and out of ‘love’ with people very quickly – always liked to keep a string of bed mates, if he didn’t fall in love, and didn’t necessarily care, then he wouldn’t get hurt. And he hardly needed to put in much effort, a little bit of flirting and an expensive drink was all he usually needed. Besides, now Krennic had this rank bar and a reputation, so he probably needed even less: sometimes people were trying to pick him up – he couldn’t say he wasn’t flattered. On the occasions he did though – it usually had the proficiency to mess him up. You reminded him very much of a girl he’d known in the Futures Program – back when he was young and reckless. Okay, Krennic could back track on that sentence, young. That, first love, fast heartbeat, can’t stop staring, ‘only thing in the world that matters’ kind of feeling. The kind of love that at that age would make him naïvely think it’d be forever – where their ambitions would meld together and everything would just work out. Even if they had no idea how. Krennic would stand by it as a real love, a feeling he had chased since he lost her. He’d fallen that hard again since – sure – but never in the same way. Orson didn’t think you could ever get a ‘first love’ feeling back. And he certainly didn’t want to ever feel like he did when it ended again. But you, and your face, and your body, and that look you gave him – all Krennic could see in you was her. Turning to his datapad for a second he had half a mind to see who your parents were, then stopped short of himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, Orson, she’s too old for that!’ – even if marginally. It made him curious about you though, what if your personality was the same? What if all of these factors culminated in him… feeling like that about you. He almost cursed at himself. ‘Don’t be stupid, she works for you, and you’ll shake it. It’s just the shock, it’s two or three glimpses of her face – you’ll be able to pick out all the differences in no time. Then you won’t think about what you loved and lost… or yearn for it back.’ Krennic scoffed at the very idea of him yearning, but brought you up on his datapad anyway. A smirk started to spread its way across his face as he lingered on your photograph. Well, he certainly wasn’t averse to one of you getting messed up in the process of this partnership…

***

Krennic was right, one of you was going to get messed up by this; and it seemed more obvious now that person was going to be him. He wanted your personality to be different to hers, then he could form some distinction - and for the most part you had differences, you were your own woman. The problem was Krennic let himself get obsessed over the similarities, those small details that wouldn’t have mattered to anyone else. And if he was honest those parts of you that were nothing like her just messed him up even more, because he liked those too. He liked you for you. It worried him.

You busied yourself with your work and tried to keep out of everyone’s way. You very much hoped it might be ‘out of sight out of mind’; but knew with the importance of the project you wouldn’t have that luxury. That had you experimenting until the early hours of the morning sometimes - and you always sent Krennic an update email last thing before you went to bed. Just so he never had to come looking himself: you’d heard all about him, but now you were here you’d witnessed it yourself. And Krennic screaming at people in corridors was not something you were that ready for. You did not want that wrath coming down on you, so you tried to keep one step ahead of the man that knew this station inside and out. What amazed you was, as you placed your datapad down for the evening and settled into your sheets, more often than not you’d receive a ‘ping’ to let you know of incoming mail. You’d ignored it for a while but - being too curious - investigated, only to find Krennic had sent you a thank you note. ‘What the heck is he still up working for!?’ Well, this became a regular occurrence, and tonight was no different - only now you waited to see if he’d reply and you smiled as it came in. ‘Why can’t everyone do this? Do you know how well this Station would run!? Thank you. As ever. - K.’ You hovered over the reply button, as you had nearly all week. Every single time the knot in your stomach made you panic and you bailed out. Not tonight. ‘You are welcome, Director. Just doing my job. It’s getting late, you should probably get some rest.’ As he had, you signed off with your initial. It took him all of 5 seconds to reply, ‘I could say the same. Goodnight, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Goodnight, Director. Sleep well.’ You grimaced as the message flew off to the other side of the Death Star, was that a step too far? Oh well. Couldn’t take it back now!

Eventually your reports got shorter, not for lack of trying, but progress was slow. And you always tried to make ‘nothing really happened today’ last for as many pages as possible. But you realised quickly that Director Krennic was smart enough to read between the lines; he never asked for more than you gave him, but as he started asking you for progress updates, rather than waiting until you sent them, you knew he wasn’t far off the point where you might start receiving those dreaded block capital emails.

It wasn’t like what you’d done up until now wasn’t hard; it was. It was just now you were at a snagging point and you really didn’t want to have to redo what you’d already done to get past it. It also wasn’t something you could easily bypass. And you couldn’t ignore it. If you got this wrong that laser didn’t work - and it’d all come back on you. This calculation was going to take time you didn’t have - NOBODY had - and the pressure was starting to get you frustrated.

You didn’t actually receive a block capital email, but an impromptu visit to your lab. And the colour must have immediately drained from your face - to counteract the way your heart decided to beat like a kick drum - because Krennic raised his hands in almost apology. “Thought it might be quicker to ask you rather than you to write up a report.” “Well you already know it’s not going well.” “I know woolly language when I see it. You don’t need to use filler with me. If you’re stuck just say so.” “Forgive me, Sir, but I don’t exactly want to get yelled at, and there’s a lot at stake here.” You cursed yourself internally for being so comfortable with talking to him like this. But decided that it might be best to speak your mind. “Why would I yell at you?” You gave him a pointed look that Krennic understood, but he didn’t think you quite understood the question. Why would he yell at you? Instead he cleared his throat, “I understand… Why don’t you, walk me through it?” “Can you help?” It wasn’t meant to come out so disbelieving, and you thought you’d put your foot in it about 10 times during this conversation already - but Krennic just shrugged. “I’ll see if I can assist. Maybe I’ll have a perspective you’re not thinking of.” You took a breath, “Okay...” “Okay.” He gave a firm nod, and sat at one of the lab tables, “What exactly are you trying to achieve that you cannot?” You took a deep breath, “Think of holding a laser pointer,” you collected one, and as a demonstration you pointed it at the blank wall and clicked it on; “Even with a steady hand, or two hands, there’s movement.” The dot wasn’t wiggling much but Krennic nodded along, “Well, this station is just a massive destructive laser pointer, with 8 different lasers all coming together… so in fact there’s 9 laser pointers in total. Even a millimetre out can be the difference between this laser working, or catching on something we don’t want it to and blowing up Imperial Forces, or - god forbid - the entire station…!” You walked over to a little holder you’d rigged up, placing the pen upon it and stepping back: “Crudely speaking when focusing a laser through Kyber it should keep the laser's trajectory steady with pinpoint accuracy, whilst also maintaining the power and range of the laser. It’s a multipoint system, if even one of those points is off, the whole thing fails. And what better to take the power of a laser created by Kyber than…” “Kyber.” You smiled enthusiastically, “Exactly!” Krennic looked back at the dot on the wall, “So what’s your snag?” You turned the datapad to face him, “This.” He raised an eyebrow immediately, “That’s… a lot of numbers.” “Yes. And every time I calculate it, it’s an error. And it needs to balance because it’s got to work between-” “Nine lasers.” You said in unison. “Correct.” You smiled, liking that he was getting it. “I don’t expect Kyber not to be able to take the force, it’s the making sure we’re hitting it all just right. To check how much the crystals might refract the energy. To make sure there’s not a power surge… I just can’t get the power balance right to get the trajectory… not to do something ridiculously wild.” “Or make the whole station virtually useless.” “Yes. And the thing is that the number is nearly always the same. You know, like… I’m point-5 out, and yet I can’t figure out where that is coming from. Freakin’ crystals, and Kyber is notoriously the worst!” You placed your hands on your hips, “I’ll get it. I just need time.” He nodded, “You have time believe me.” Krennic stood, “I believe I should leave you to it.” “But the completion of the-” “Let me worry about that. You worry about getting my vectors right. You have time.” That he could promise you. Krennic didn’t want you to panic, he thought that would throw this project into even more disarray. He needed you with a level head and at your best mindset. He thought he knew how to do just that. You flushed, “Thank you, Director.” “Don’t mention it, Y/N.” He paused as he got to the door, turning back to you those blue eyes caught yours and you nearly jumped at the dark flicker across them. “I look forward to reading your report, tonight.” The way his voice lowered like that, how that smooth tone he usually kept laced with a growl had you struggling to breathe as he left, and you had to undo your uniform and catch your breath. ‘Geez, what was that!?’ Did you have a thing for your senior commander? A real thing!? Sure those damn eyes were always haunting your dreams, and he was nearly always your daily closing thought (but he put himself there, didn’t he!) but… this was more than that, this was a physical reaction - and you were sure he was eliciting an emotional one from you, too. “God dammit, Y/N,” you breathed, looking back to the door and wishing he’d come walking back through it, “could you have a worse idea-!?” *** He had to be honest he wasn’t sure why he had no semblance of control around you; it should have been easy to control. Krennic spent his life trying to control his emotions… okay, maybe not very well but he did. You had him smiling all over the place. He far outstayed his welcome in the lab whenever he found reason to go down there; and Krennic certainly found plenty of reason. Usually if he visited anyone at their work station he was either none too pleased with them, or he wanted their report - and quickly! - before he swept himself off to another meeting or urgent matter around the station. He liked the sound of your voice explaining things to him; and how every question he asked was met with not just an answer, but a good answer. Instead of a string of ‘I don’t know, sir’s. Nothing Krennic asked of you ever seemed like trouble either; then again he supposed you wouldn’t really want to refuse the Director of the Death Star what he wanted. It was obvious you wanted to remain here, and you were trying to do your very best to figure out all these algorithms alone.

Krennic sent you an assistant and even got you on calls with people in similar fields. The assistant stayed with you a little, until it got a little too complicated even for them and you dismissed them with thanks - you’d got a step closer, that’s all you could ask for. Eventually though, you had to reach out to Galen - and Krennic wanted to sit in on these calls. You wondered if it was because he thought the two of you would spend the majority of it dragging him - you rather thought you might be giving him a string of compliments with half the chance to do so. And the three of you started to break your work down to basics. Krennic’s new perspective aided more than you really wanted to admit to him, but he had this attitude that made you think he wanted to be useful here - and it made you more than a little suspicious. Maybe he really was spying on you both…

Krennic wasn’t sure if he wasn’t forcing the relationship to grow beyond appropriate parameters, all discussions did still revolve around work after all, but was happy that you were forthcoming. Spending more time with you meant he could analyse you more - and whilst you still very much reminded him of his ex-lover, you were becoming your own person. The person who filled his thoughts. You were almost his every waking moment. When in your lab together, even when Krennic was listening to every word, he was watching your body - the way you moved was fluid as you eagerly explained something and demonstrated. But meticulous and calculating when you were working on a screen - absolutely none of your energy was wasted that could have been used to think on the problem. And yet even every small movement you made was significant. Usually to cross through or correct a calculation. Change your vector arrows around a little. Krennic liked watching you do this too, because when it was all correct you gave this small satisfied smile, and even though it was to yourself, it was very endearing - it was one thing he always looked forward to seeing.

Tonight, as ever, Krennic was agonising over waiting for your report. No matter how exhausted he might be when he finally retired to his quarters for the evening, he always knew your end of day email would come through and Krennic forced himself to stay awake for it. Mostly so he could read too much into the string of ‘flirty’ emails that followed it, but he couldn’t have been the only one who read that energy. After all, sometimes he gratuitously flirted back, and you still kept responding. As soon as he heard that ping he rushed across the room to read it. You reporting was always concise even though you managed not to leave a single detail out - and now he knew more about your work, it was easier to understand and for him to scan through. Krennic would be more thorough tomorrow. ‘Thorough as ever, Ms. L/N. – K.’ ‘I like to make sure you don’t need to ask questions.’ ‘Where’s the fun in that? – K.’ ‘It helps me sleep better.’ ‘Me not ask questions about your reporting? – K.’ ‘Goodnight Director. Please get some sleep!’ He remembered the first time that he’d read that goodnight from you, how he’d stared at those words for a long time - heart stilled. It didn’t help him sleep at all, far from it. In fact nothing about you seemed to help anything - except Krennic thinking on you.

You were impressive - dare he say that you had more skill in your particular area than maybe even Galen did. That, added to the weight of his constant Futures Program reminder, kept you at the forefront of his mind constantly. Krennic found it very hard to concentrate on his own work; and his thoughts wandered, particularly in meetings he found to be less than stimulating. He’d poured over your CV and your previous published research time and again. Read all your imperial records and anything Intelligence could get hold of on you. Krennic knew almost everything there was to know, and yet he wanted to hear it all from you. And you seemed less than forthcoming with information that was personal. That almost worried him - maybe you weren’t looking for anything other than a professional relationship with him. Krennic wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to keep it that way; eventually he’d have to make some kind of move - he couldn’t let you go without you knowing. He wasn’t about to let you be the (other) one that got away. Not both of you. Time ticked on this evening, and he lay in his sheets wide awake. Work was making him drowsy; and he’d been up and down trying to work himself to sleep, but every time he put his datapad down and switched off the lights he was alert again. Krennic glanced at the clock and groaned, watching the minutes race towards his alarm. Unsurprisingly it was thoughts of you that were keeping him awake. Usually you were on his mind at night; you were certainly the last one before he turned the light off, but usually he could drift to sleep perfectly fine. Not tonight. Krennic placed his hands palm down on his stomach, inhaling and exhaling slowly: wasn’t that how you did it? Deep, slow, calming breaths. That evidently made things worse, and his breathing patterns this time brought with them fairly vivid images that occasionally he’d seen in dreams. Certainly none of them were very professional - and all of them were about you. ‘Stars-! Orson, stop it!’ But he couldn’t, and his mind wanted to play tricks on him, trying to make him imagine what it would feel like to touch your bare skin, to hear you moan quietly, the way you might say his name in elation. He growled to himself as heat gathered a little lower than his hands were. He moved them, breaths already short and sharp and not at all where he’d intended to be at… “This is a bad idea.” Orson groaned softly and bit his lip, squeezing his eyes shut bringing all those images back; did he really have any better ones? *** It wasn’t a lie to state you were getting closer. At least to the point where Krennic started to make jokes in meetings that were clearly meant for you only. And when you looked up to him unsure if it was appropriate to laugh and he’d almost dare you to, you knew they certainly were. He’d always ask for a score out of 10 in his emails to you now. And it was refreshing for you to find a similar relationship to the one you had with Galen here… well, maybe you shouldn’t have been surprised. They were good friends after all, and there had to be a reason for that. Krennic also made a habit of being wherever you were. And you weren’t sure that was so endearing. You understood why he would want to be around your lab - maybe not as often as he was, but then… perhaps you knew the reason for that too, you just didn’t want to hope on it - but not why he’d turn up in corridors he had no business being in. Or would end up in the cafeteria at the exact moment you walked in. He even ended up in staff briefings he’d specifically asked someone else to take either so he could sit or stand near you. You couldn’t help but find some of this behaviour odd: was Krennic stalking you? Was he looking out for you? Was he protecting you? You couldn’t imagine it was just coincidence - and part of you hoped it wasn’t. You just couldn’t really tell his intentions. That’s what scared you the most.

By now you’d heard the coffee room chat about Krennic - seemed he had a bit of a lady’s man reputation. Pretty smooth at getting you into bed, but would love you and leave you just as fast, and on-to-the-next-one. Were you simply the next one? Because as much as by now you wanted to be, you certainly didn’t want to be one on a list… love you was okay… but leave you? You weren’t the type of woman who would put yourself in that position. For him would you?

It made you a little more cautious around him, and suddenly that made your relationship slip. Because you didn’t know if you should be flirting with him or joking with him as much as you were. This pull back from you didn’t faze Krennic too much, just made him try a little harder. For you it then became obvious what he wanted. And you had to do your damndest to control yourself. You both did.

You were using every ounce of your Imperial training to try to ignore your feelings, to make sure your face stayed level and revealed nothing. You always tried to keep your eyes on his face; instead of the wandering they wanted to do - even when he wasn’t directly talking to you. That didn’t mean that when he was walking away from you, or simply keeping busy in your lab, you weren’t discreetly checking him out. You had to wonder what he looked like out of that uniform, considering he looked so gorgeous in it. You were inexplicably drawn to him, but you weren’t sure if it was his power you were attracted to: the rank bar on that uniform told everyone exactly who was boss and he walked like he owned every corridor in this place. He didn’t even need to exert his influence in meetings, everyone knew he was the most important man in the room. When Krennic had something to say everyone listened, even when he said it quietly. You’d never known someone to command that kind of attention, and considering that reputation you were not the only officer - of any gender - who fawned over him. You were just the best at hiding it. That charisma he exuded really was something to behold; he was just far too confident. Maybe a little conceited in it too, but you were sure you’d be powerless to it. The Director probably had the ability to walk up to you and say “Come to bed with me” and you’d go on that alone, you knew if he was so inclined, he could just say it like that. It was probably in your favour that Krennic liked to be a little more suave. Krennic seemed like one for class and grace. Or was it that you really were attracted to him, that you had some kind of undeniable chemistry. That you would almost count him a friend. That you just liked being in Krennic’s aura and talking to him about work… you’d even started to open up to him about personal stuff, where you’d grown up, your family… how exactly you’d ended up a crystallographer who was working here on laser vectors. And most importantly how much you loved storms, planetary or solar - this seemed like something you had to let him know. Just a silly little fact, perhaps, but to you it really meant something. It was little moments like that, when he laughed at your stories, that you thought this really might be mutual attraction, rather than someone Krennic just wanted to get in bed.

Yet, you had an effect on him also and he tried to hide it as well as you did. You caught it, only because you knew the look of someone trying to contain themselves. You saw it in the mirror or polished surfaces of this battle station all the time. Krennic quite often clenched his jaw around you, he had this habit of staring at you like he was staring through you; and sometimes he would just stare forward if you were next to him. That almost annoyed you, because you wanted to be able to look into those crystal blue orbs just once... But if Krennic was watching you, then it was an altogether different story, and if he ever caught you catching him, that look in his eyes didn’t disappear; it was hungry, and although it stirred something within you that you had to fight even harder to control, it scared you a little too - and in the back of your mind it lit a spark that became a raging fire. And you had to know, would he act on that look too? You made a vow, before you’d finished your work, before you’d left this battle station - you would find out.

Today hadn’t been so bad by all accounts; the test you’d set up you would have to leave overnight, so you got out of the lab on time. Maybe you’d even get an early night tonight. Maybe you’d persuade the Director to one of his own with your report email; you thought he probably needed it. A frown pulled its way across your face as you arrived at your quarters with the door open, and you poked your head around it, gasping to find other officers moving things around, and carrying what appeared to be boxes of your stuff. You hadn’t authorised this! “What’s going on!?!” You blurted, a little angrier than you’d meant, “What are you doing!?” Then you froze for a second; had you read something wrong? You knew something was up with him… but maybe you were supposed to have acted on it by now? Maybe your work was taking too long - was he pissed at you? Did Krennic want you off the station!? You looked to the most senior officer, “Am I being thrown off the project?!” “No.” At least you could breathe then, “We’re simply moving your quarters.” “Moving my quarters?” You couldn’t help but be confused: had you missed that email? It seemed a little too important to just be sprung upon you. “On whose orders!? I haven’t signed off on this!” “Director Krennic’s.” That shut you up almost immediately. ‘Oh well shit, what’s he moving me for!?’ You swallowed hard, not even caring if it was visible. “Well, in that case you better show me where I’m moving to…”

Once you got there - and they assured you that your key card would still work - you realised that you hadn’t just moved to any old room. Krennic had moved you to a commander's quarters, and it was plush to say the least. You had so much more room in here. The bay window stretched at least half the room and you couldn’t help your small smile; ‘he remembered’. Your little stories of staying up huddled in a window frame to watch storms in nearby, or passing, solar systems and planets. You shook your head slowly to yourself and picked up your datapad again, figuring out where exactly you were on the ship - further from the labs, which was a minor inconvenience. It seemed that at least there was an elevator close by that you could use to get to the right floor and then it’d be a straight walk. What interested you though was, looking at the schematic, you appeared to be just two corridors away from Krennic’s own room. That was not coincidence. “Son of a-” suddenly you found yourself laughing. Why? So he could walk past your room every day? So he had you closer? And looking at the rooms around, probably as close as he could get: you were surrounded by his senior command team.

You moved through the room, and started to notice little details that he’d had placed here; books by your favourite authors, or researchers… your favourite music. Maybe you’d told him far too much about yourself. But it was the fact he retained the information that had you impressed. He’d even left you a box, tied with ribbon in your bathroom, and when you pulled at it you found it was filled with very expensive toiletries, that you knew he wouldn’t have been able to come by easily, in all your favourite scents. Nothing is coincidence at all… is it Krennic? Was he trying to woo you - was this all part of a game plan; you could only conclude yes. And by the way your heart was currently beating in your chest, you had to say it was working.

Moving back into the main room and sitting back on the bed with your datapad, ready to send your report for the evening, you’d failed to notice the letter lying on top of your sheets. You pulled your finger across the top of the envelope and unfolded the card carefully: ‘Dear Y/N, Welcome to your new quarters. I believe someone of your talent is worthy of somewhere a little nicer. You will find me just down the hall if you need anything, and please do not hesitate. I hope you enjoy your stay here. And, should there be a storm, that you enjoy the view. Director Orson C. Krennic Head - Imperial Weapons Division’ The card also seemed to be scented, which you had to raise an eyebrow at; ‘who uses scented note cards?! What’s that all about!?’ You put it down to having more money than sense and placed the card on your bedside table, before getting back to what was really important.

As expected, even when it was a little earlier in the evening, Orson Krennic responded to your email almost immediately. ‘Earlier than usual? You really are efficient, Y/N. – K.’ ‘Thought I would get an early night in Director… in my new quarters. You should to.’ - You weren’t meant to imply together, but you also didn’t care if that’s how he read it. ‘Any thoughts? – K.’ ‘They are very nice, thank you. Although in future a little more notification would help!’ ‘Noted. And as you are closer, you can deliver your reports in person now – K.’ You raised an eyebrow, why would that make any sense? ‘When I can send it over email?’ Why... would you? Even when closer the time it’d take you to walk to his quarters, give him the document and walk back, would still be far longer than an email. ‘Consider it. – K.’ ‘I will!’ You weren’t sure you would, but that was what he wanted to hear. And of course you’d play to that whim. ‘Good. Goodnight, Y/N – K.’ ‘Goodnight Orson.’ You stared at the email after you’d sent it and almost screamed. What were you doing-!?! Why were you addressing a senior officer by his first name!? What was he bringing you to? You placed your head in your hands and took a deep breath. ‘Okay, it’s one slip and you can say you were tired and apologise profusely later…’

You threw your tablet on your table too and snuggled back under your new plush sheets. The bed was cozy and soft and suddenly you couldn’t be happier that Krennic had arranged for this. You closed your eyes; it was this time of the evening you liked to try and ground yourself. It was clear that both of you wanted each other to some degree, but you were the one that had to be sure about this and the most careful. You had more to lose here; Krennic had the ability to kick you off the project, not just out of his bed… if you ever got in it. But by now you were pretty sure you would end up in it. It was more a matter of when. He was powerful, you’d covered that. But Krennic was also dangerous, that much was also obvious… dangerous in terrible and delicious ways. So perhaps, as well as everything else, you were drawn to that danger. You wondered suddenly which side of him would show up more when it was just the two of you alone… in conditions more intimate. Would that power completely consume you; did you have any chance at all? You weren’t sure you wanted any at just the opportunity to be pinned under his body. To run your hands over his skin. To answer all the questions you had, and see if all those water cooler rumours were true… (You hoped to God some of them were.)

You were close to drifting off when your eyes suddenly snapped open. Krennic was your favourite pre-sleep thought, and your subconscious tonight brought you a revelation. That note card was not scented. You scrambled around for it and held it close to your face, inhaling. That was what Krennic smelled like - you should know because you’d always thought he smelt pretty good, it was a fairly subtle scent when on his skin - here it was a little stronger, which is why it had taken you so long to pick up on it.

That damn man had sprayed his note to you with his cologne. *** You decided that Krennic knew far too much about you. On the morning after your move you opened your door to head back to the labs, so you could check on the results of your testing, and Krennic was two steps from your door. You were startled by his sudden presence but he offered nothing but a small smile and a casual, “Right on time, Ms. L/N.” “Uh- I- Director.” You wouldn’t exactly say you greeted him as he felt in step with your walk towards the elevator. “How do you think your testing went?” “Well…” You took a deep breath, instantly regretting it as that cologne seemed to surround you completely. Now your senses were looking for it. Your stomach knotted and you felt the immediate urge to press your thighs together and groan. Dammit. “Well?” Krennic pressed, eying you when you didn’t answer. You hoped your face wasn’t flushing even though you felt hot. “It’s a make or break test. I certainly hope it’s worked.” You could hear that strained edge to your voice, you knew for certain Krennic would have picked up on it. As you turned into the elevator you immediately reached for your button, the Director was two steps ahead of you and your hands brushed. You withdrew yours immediately, and knew you must have been red by now. “S-Sorry.” “No, my apologies, I just wanted to help.” You stared at the floor of the elevator for a good few minutes, holding your fingertips in your other hand. Why did it tingle like that? You didn’t actually ever think you’d physically touched him before, had you? Even when you’d been so close previously in the lab. But it’s not even like it was his skin. In fact, for someone with such a reputation, Krennic had very little skin on display at all. Did he ever not wear gloves? Not that you could recall. ‘Stop-! Y/N! You sound so repressed! You’ve seen naked men before.’ Your eyes flicked back to Krennic, staring at the ceiling, and you swallowed hard. Sure, but you hadn’t seen him naked. The rest of the ride was conducted in silence, because you didn’t trust yourself not to blurt out anything you shouldn’t, but as you left Krennic took a step to stop the doors from closing. “What, not even a goodbye?” You paused in the corridor and turned back to him, unable to stop yourself from smiling that he actually wanted that from you. “Goodbye Director, have a good day.” “Not likely, but work permitting. Good day, Y/N.” and as the doors slid closed on him you caught his wink, and could swear he was smirking.

You stood outside your little lab for a long time before you entered. You admitted to yourself you were delaying the inevitable but you needed to. After all, if this was a complete failure then you might as well throw out almost a years’ worth of work. Well, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but at least all the months you’d been up here on the battle station. You’d need a good stiff drink and to cry in bed for a couple of days at the very least. Oh, and you’d probably be fired, reputation in ruins… You keyed yourself in and flicked on the lights. What you had done was rigged up a few small versions of the Death Star and set each of them to different vectors. The pieces of Kyber you were using were tiny, but they would still work in principle with your laser pens.

You stared at the points on the wall in turn. One had disappeared completely, which was all but useless to you. It didn’t mean that the calculation wasn’t steady: it could have just meant that the trajectory was way off. Either way, you could discount that as a failure. And the next one; giving a similar waver to when you’d shown Krennic what ‘steady hands’ really meant. Although minimal, you’d already explained why you couldn’t stand for it. That left the last two. And the results looked fairly similar even though your vectors were different for both. You had to call the result unexpected: perhaps there were two ways to do this. You looked back to your little models and then to the points, waving your hand in front of the lasers. And then you smiled, and that small smile became a grin, became a laugh of triumph. Although both were near perfect, the third one had a far stronger beam of light. There was your power. The second most important part of the project. The station had to do what it was built for when the laser reached its target, after all. “We have a winner.” You whispered to yourself walking back to your table. Now you had to report these findings and scale them up to full size. Working in other contingency factors - after all that laser would not be travelling through clean air in a lab and hitting a solid smooth wall. That would be fun. Still, you couldn’t wait on his report to tell him the good news. ‘Report spoilers: It works!’ There was a long pause between emails, and you could picture Krennic sitting at his desk, relief flooding him, smug little smirk on his face that this was finally going to get done - the finish line seemed in sight now. You hoped you’d made his day. When the email came back you couldn’t help but read into it a little more than you probably should have, and yet you also thought he wanted you to: ‘This sounds like a cause for celebration... – K.’

You did not in fact bring the report to him by hand, and neither did he ask it of you, but from that day forward you were called into his office daily briefings. And suddenly you got to realise just what your research meant to the people working on this station, because the first day you walked in, expecting to see just him, the room was full of his top engineers and each and every single one of them was applauding you. “Now the real work begins.” Krennic was leaning against his desk, arms folded, with eyes only for you. “Welcome, Y/N, to the team that will build your concept. From physical engineering to coding. I will assist in overseeing you, but the team are now at your disposal. From now, until test day.” Your eyes couldn’t help but light up, even though you knew you should have probably been professional about this. “Thank you, Director.” You beamed, “I look forward to working with all of you. Let's make this vision a reality, for the Empire!”

Suddenly this was better than anything you’d had with Krennic before - you almost had non-stop contact with him, from walking out of your door in the morning, to retiring for the evening. And you were happy to find that he provided both the perfect intellectual and humorous stimulant. You also noted how many crew members now looked at you with nothing but jealousy. Despite the fact nothing had happened between you yet. The way he regarded you was now even more open. Every look that followed every little flirtatious comment or innuendo was extremely pointed. Sometimes his eyes would even darken. It scared you enough to have you shy away from him; but also had you scared at how much you desired him. You just wanted him to touch you, just the smallest taste. To be honest you didn’t care what he did, as long as he did something. Krennic could bend you over his desk in front of your entire engineering team for all you cared anymore.

Speaking of your engineering team, you’d never seen a group of people work harder or more efficiently, and seeing them turn all your data and tiny models into tangible pieces for the Death Star was wonderful. You gasped to see the sheer size of the Kyber they had harvested to give your vectors pinpoint accuracy. “I have never… seen Kyber like that!” And the way Krennic got all smug again, “Only the best for you. Of course.” “You flatter me, Sir.” And that little knowing nod he gave you back. Once everything started to go into place, and you got word that Galen was almost finished with the laser itself (you received many an email from him about how proud he was and so many others from your friends back on Eadu that you almost cried, thanking them again and again for their participation in even the smallest part of your research), that the dish was currently in the process of being assembled outside and you couldn’t believe you were doing this. You couldn’t believe you were about to be a part of history. Your name was going to be right up there. Never even in your wildest dreams... As you could take a little more time over your reports these days, and there was far less for you to really comment on, you did start to present Krennic with physical copies. Usually just before you headed off for the evening you would drop them off on his desk with a small smile, and he would drag them towards him. “Glad to see you are taking my advice.” “Well, as you seemed fairly adamant I did it, I thought I had better start, Director.” “They do make for good bedtime reading.” “I’ll bet…” Only for the last week you’d started spraying them with your perfume, very subtly at first, but steadily the scent became stronger, and oh, he had noticed. When the doors closed behind you this evening he held the report to his nose and inhaled, groaning as heat coursed through his body. Krennic couldn’t take it any longer, he knew exactly what you were doing. Both of you were dancing around it, and now neither of you were being very subtle, either. But this was the final straw - because he wanted this scent all over him. What it would feel like to pin you beneath him, have your body against his as you whined and called his name, what it would feel like to finally be inside you… He’d certainly thought on it in quieter moments of the evening enough… *** Tonight your report was late. Not for no good reason; you had a lot of data to review. Galen kept sending you updated laser figures to get you as close as possible with your final vectors. Oh, you had no doubt that the Kyber could take it. You’d given a wide berth for the perimeters; but still, you wanted to check and triple check. On your head be it if you didn’t and everything went wrong. Still you wanted to stop by Krennic’s office to let him know why it would be late, as you always seemed to bring it to him around this time these days.

Krennic looked up as you walked in, without even knocking, but he hardly cared about that. His eyes narrowed at the lack of papers in your arms. “Where is my report?” Your face scrunched a little, “If you’d let me get a word out Director, I would tell you. I have a lot of data back from Galen that I want to check and double check before I send it over to you. I want to give you as accurate data and results as possible. So it’ll probably be late, or later than it has been these past few weeks.” Krennic tilted his head, eyebrow raised “Late?” He didn’t sound very appreciative. “Only about as ‘late’ as used to be normal.” He rose from his chair, and those blue eyes locked on yours, “Late-late bedtime reading? This from a woman who says I should be going to bed earlier.” “This once!” You protested as he rounded his desk. “You think that’s good enough?” You didn’t understand why he’d be mad at you, and Krennic didn’t sound mad… but the words he was using… “Well I didn’t think you’d mind.” “Oh, believe me, I mind.” “I-” You were about to tell him you were sorry - although really you had nothing to be sorry for - but he didn’t stop beside you. Instead Krennic stood behind you, a little too close for your liking.

You froze immediately as his voice lowered to a whisper, reaching out to brush a lock of hair behind your ear. The scrape of leather against your skin made you shiver, and you only wished it was his fingertips. You bit back your moan. “I am alone in my quarters after 2200 hours, it sounds like I’ll have data to review with you: that’s an order.” You swallowed unsure of the kind of response he wanted, “Yes, Sir.” slipped out of your mouth and he seemed satisfied. “Good girl. I want it on paper, as you’ve been doing recently.” “Yes, Sir.” “Well then…” He stepped away from you and you realised that you’d barely breathed for the past few minutes, “You best get to it, hadn’t you?” “Yes, Sir.” What was wrong with you!? Was that all you could say!? When you turned around he’d already moved away, crossing the room. “Good. Now go. And don’t make me wait, Y/N.” Krennic glanced over his shoulder at you, blue eyes burning, “As I’m sure you know by now, I am not a patient man.” *** You had to admit the pressure was on now. Because you did really want to present him with a decent report. (Just in case he wasn’t messing with you and he would be pissed if you didn’t turn up at 2200 with the correct figures.) And you sat back in the lab speed typing your way to the end whilst also trying to be as careful about Galen’s calculations as possible. You were right of course, his new figures still worked perfectly within your own. You looked at the clock, 2130. And the Director had told you not to be late. You printed the report and rushed back to your quarters; your heart was beating on overdrive. Was this about to be the encounter you’d always imagined? The throbbing ache between your thighs you’d also been trying (and failing) to ignore since he’d brushed his fingers to your skin earlier certainly hoped so. You barely had time for a quick shower to freshen up, but you took it anyway before changing and spraying yourself with that same perfume you’d been dousing your reports in, and hoping you wouldn’t run into anyone in the two corridors that you would have to traverse.

You checked yourself in the mirror as you gathered the hard copy of the report and your datapad for back up. You looked flushed, but still pretty at least. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself for your walk - you had a feeling you were about to end up being even more so… You paused suddenly and turned to the window; the colour of space had suddenly caught your eye. Purples and blues fogged in front of you, instead of the usual endless rolling black flecked with stars. It shimmered every so often and you recognised it instantly. ‘An Ion storm is coming…’ you breathed. You hadn’t noticed because your lab had no windows, but you were overjoyed that you hadn’t missed it. You allowed yourself to marvel it for a few seconds more before you realised you were about to make yourself late. Padding down the corridors you were pleased to see that there was no-one on route and you reached his room at exactly 2159. You waited for that minute to tick over, and at 2200, you knocked.

“Enter.” Krennic’s voice called you, with a sultry edge to it. And you bit your lip gently. At the sound of his voice his door slid open, and beckoned you inside. *** If you thought your room was spacious and had a generous window, this one was something else. Krennic’s quarters had a window that swept almost the entire far end of the room, and your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to those vibrant purples and blues again. The lighting was fairly dimmed but you recognised it as ambiance; Krennic was setting a mood here. That feeling stirred once more in the pit of your stomach and you swallowed hard, the room had all the amenities, and you wondered why the hell he even wanted an office as well as this. Probably because he didn’t want everyone in his room, you guessed, but he had a desk and everything here. You scanned across the room to the bed; at least king sized, the sheets looked comfortable and luxurious. Why didn’t that surprise you either.

Footsteps approached from your left and Krennic swept around the corner from whatever had been keeping him occupied. He halted, immediately tipping his head to survey your body - instinctively you pulled the papers up to your chest and hugged them close. “I-I believe you asked me here to take you through a data review, Sir. And I made sure to print them all.” He hadn’t even traced his way up to your face yet and that smile became a grin, became a smirk. Krennic stepped forward - bless you for actually printing the damn report. He held his hand out, “Indeed I did.” You offered up the paperwork and he walked back to his desk, beckoning you to follow him. He could already smell the perfume on the documents, biting back a low moan. He had no intention of reading them tonight. In fact you hadn’t even sprayed the documents with your perfume, but there was so much of it on you that when you’d held them close it couldn’t help but transfer across. Krennic set them, and your datapad, down on his desk and turned back to you, now a little further into the room. Your hair was down to natural length and framed your face delicately. There were no shoes on your feet either. But your dress… oh… Ending just appropriately long enough to cover everything, the silk slip dress - in your favourite colour, Krennic remembered - plunged pretty low, thin straps looped over your shoulders and, he couldn’t see yet, but it had a low back too. At least you were dressed appropriately for where your evening was going to go. Krennic swallowed, aware of his own arousal as he made his way slowly back over to you, again, instead of stopping in front of you he rounded your body. Where he was close the cape brushed against your bare skin and you had to bite your lip hard not to whimper. Why was just the feel of it so sexy? Was it really the thought of being covered in it and nothing else? Would he wear it if you asked him to…? No, maybe not for your first time together… you didn’t think he’d want you making too many demands of him.

“I checked the weather for today and it looks like there will be a good ion lightning storm in the area. We can’t exactly move out of its way so… I thought you might like to observe…” “You remember a lot of things about me, Director… this one I might just have to thank you for.” Even as he disappeared behind you again you kept your eyes front on space, although you couldn’t help but be curious if he was going to touch your hair again. It hadn’t escaped your notice that he was finally gloveless. I really AM like a repressed maiden! He halted, and somehow it felt like he was even closer than before; was Krennic’s breath on the back of your neck just your imagination? You shivered involuntarily and even if you couldn’t see him, you could picture that smirk. His voice was at a husky whisper, already threatening to drive you wild. You didn’t dare press your thighs together, despite your desperation. “This dress is certainly not regulation uniform, and as per the rules, that would mean it needs to be removed.” You didn’t even get the chance to wonder if Krennic was going to do it himself as his large hands rested on your shoulders for a moment. You couldn’t help but tense; it seemed like such a foreign concept, his bare skin touching yours. You wondered if his hands would be calloused with all the work he did. He certainly didn’t mind getting dirty. But he was an architect at heart, and his hands seemed pretty smooth, assured, and warm… he was so warm… Krennic caressed his fingertips over you and you really couldn’t have helped that small whine even if you’d have tried. You were still picturing that delicious little smirk in your head, and you wanted to kiss it off. Patience… At this rate you’ll be getting to do more than that... His fingers slid under the straps, pulling them off your shoulders agonisingly slow, but Krennic didn’t attempt to help the fabric down your body, instead he just let it fall. It pooled around your feet and you swallowed hard again, hearing the slight chuckle in his voice before he tsked you. “You didn’t think to wear anything underneath?” “Well I thought about it, but-” You gasped as his hand grasped your waist, sliding down to your hip, his other brushing your hair back to expose your neck. Krennic’s first kiss wasn’t even tentative; but it was teasing and you shook under his touch. He smirked into your neck as he continued to kiss a trail. You bit back a groan, closing your eyes to the sensation of his lips on your skin, sighing for certain as his tongue ran over you. Had you told him this too? Or did he really know far too much… Finally having him kiss you after all this time was something that you almost found indescribable, and the heat between your thighs made you press them together as discreetly as possible - he’d get there you were sure of it, but that ache demanded attention. Krennic inhaled - and somehow that perfume smelled even better on your skin. He growled, grazing his teeth over your jugular, pulling your body back into his. “Oh… Y/N… you smell so good.” You gasped again as this time his arms locked around your waist to hold you in place; so close that his cape once again brushed your skin, you simply lay your hands over his. His still clothed body pressed up against yours felt simply divine and you knew Krennic was about to drive you insane, on purpose. As those kisses to your neck became a little hotter - and you started to imagine all the marks about to be left on your body - you couldn’t resist tipping your head back to sigh his name. You couldn’t be sure which he wanted to hear, but surely he would tell you if it was his first name. Maybe he didn’t want his lovers to call him that… you remembered your promise not to become just one on a list, but you didn’t want to think too hard on that right now. Much more enjoy the moment. You leant your body weight back against him, suddenly feeling tiny in his large hands. He smirked into your skin again, pulling back, one hand coming back up to turn your face to his.

“My, my… You’re already so flushed and… responsive.” That little smirk was so gorgeous you had second thoughts about kissing it off. You were already aware of how heavy you were breathing. Krennic bit his lip and somehow that made him sexier, “Have you thought about this?” You nodded, hardly seeing the point of lying. “A lot?” You knew the blush on your cheeks was only getting deeper as you nodded again. Krennic chuckled, “At least I’m not the only one…” He held you in place by your chin, “Whatever your fantasies are, you can tell me. But I can promise I’ll be better.” He studied your face intently, “Would you like me to kiss you, Y/N?” You wondered if that was a stupid question, eyes flicking to his lips and back to that intense stare he was giving you, “Y-Yes.” Surprisingly his kiss wasn’t as rough as they had been to your neck, but he showed no mercy when deepening it, and his tongue wasn’t about to let yours assert any dominance. You could taste hints of alcohol and caffeine, and something sweet - although you could hardly remember what they were serving in the canteen now. When Krennic finally released your lips to let you breathe, you were panting even harder - how was it possible to feel that power even in his kisses; you were going to be completely at his mercy all night and right now it was a delightful prospect. The wealth of experience he had meant he could surely show you a thing or two. The next graze of his lips to yours was fleeting, and he drew from you a whine. By his smile exactly what Krennic wanted. His hands wandered as he pressed a kiss into your shoulder, down the run of the pulse in your neck and over your clavicles to your breasts. Keeping those steely blue eyes on yours you were hardly able to look away as his fingertips brushed over your sensitive nipples. Even your attempts to stifle your groans didn’t work and you closed your eyes to his touch as he circled his fingertips around one. “You are so fucking beautiful…” He nudged your head gently with his own to expose your neck to him once more, “And you sound fucking beautiful too…” “K-Krennic…” You mumbled his name again, once again fixating on his fingertips as he moved them across to your other breast, repeating the same teasing circular motion before he kneaded you. You thought you’d read somewhere that you could orgasm just from this - and right now you’d believe it; feeling that sticky sweetness on your inner thighs. At this rate you weren’t going to last until Krennic touched you there. “Maybe we’ll have to make this your regulation uniform.” His voice was husky, “I’m sure I could have that rule changed just for you.” You shuddered again as he pinched your nipple between his fingers playfully, “Would you like that?” “O-Only f-or you.” You might as well go for it; he might as well know exactly how you felt. “Ahhhh!” Krennic vocalised like he’d just figured it all out, “Should I just keep you here? Or in my office? I hold a great many meetings there, though… I’m not sure I would like them all staring at you in your uniform.” He growled into the next kiss he placed to your skin, “I get jealous too, you know?” Well you did now.

Krennic straightened himself to full height, still supporting your weight his hands travelled down your body agonizingly slow; almost as if he was committing every inch of you to his memory. You already knew he liked details - and he was an architect; so it was Krennic’s business to know detail. Just how much could he remember about a lover? How much of you were you prepared for him to discover about you. His fingertips traces over your ribs, down and across your bellybutton and just below your stomach when he paused and his eyes left you. For a moment you’d quite forgotten that you were in the middle of an ion storm, and you wondered what exactly had dragged his attention away from you. The illumination of his face in the first strike of lightning made you gasp. And all you could think of was those eyes in the rainstorm on Eadu. The first time you’d ever seen him, an image that still haunted you. That was no doubt responsible for you now being naked in his arms like this. You turned to the window to watch the lightning for a moment too, flashing across the purples, blues and pinks of the cloud. “Isn’t it beautiful.” You breathed gently, and you heard him chuckle, “I don’t think you’ve looked in a mirror.” This time he pressed his kiss to your temple, and it was almost sweet. But now Krennic had you distracted by the storm - so his fingers traced lower and before you knew it he was pressing down gently on your clit. Your body gave a lurch into his and he growled again. Moving his fingers into your folds, you moaned head tipped back onto his shoulder, “Krennic…” “I knew you wanted me, Y/N, but like this?” His fingers moved through your wetness, teasing your entrance for a moment, and making you shudder, moaning his name again. “I can see that desire in your eyes wasn’t lying…” Krennic was smirking again as he watched you react to his fingertips, dragging them back towards your clit, “How many times have you been this wet around me, hmm? How many times have you thought of me doing this? Do you touch yourself and think about me? Is that what you do?” “Y-Yes-” Your thoughts were hardly coherent at this point, and as soon as his fingers touched your clit again, in teasing circles, you cried out; “Oh, Krennic, please!” “What else do you do to yourself when you think about me, hm?” He put a little more pressure on your clit as he rubbed it, “What do you think about? Me touching you like this? Or me fucking you? What set you off, hmmm? All that water-cooler chat? Believe me I know what they say... How would you like me to do it, Y/N? Do you want me to try to be gentle, or do you want it rough?” As if you really cared; your body shuddered again and you attempted to help the friction by closing your thighs once more, ache becoming a throb. “Uh uh.” His foot jammed between yours and forced your legs to widen for him, “I don’t like cheaters, Y/N.” You moaned once more as those little circles got faster and rougher, “Please, please! Krennic I’m begging you…” You whined, and your voice shook as you could feel that pleasure building, he couldn’t stop now. You wouldn’t let him, “Do whatever you want to me… just fuck me.” He nipped the top of your ear this time, “The pleasure will be all mine.” This time as the lightning flashed it illuminated your body, and Krennic was right, your dips and curves were flawless, you looked ready for him, you felt ready for him… like you were made for this very moment. Krennic moved his fingertips faster - and this time he pushed his body into yours. Your gasp at his grind into you was for one obvious reason; you could feel how hard he was getting. Oh, fuck... Your body shuddered once more and you mewled, positive that you were even wetter now. He knew it too, by that chuckle. “Oh? You want me don’t you? I know you know how wet you are… You want me so fucking bad…” That husky whisper was driving you crazy and you knew Krennic wasn’t going to let up on it, “You feel so hot, so fuckable… Oh, Y/N, I can’t wait to be inside you, but you’ll have to wait for that.” This time your groan was a little strangled, “That’s it, be a good girl… cum for me.”

If it wasn’t what he was doing to you it was his voice alone that sent that shot of pleasure right through you, burning head to toe with no mercy. You cried out again, but this time it was his first name you used - and you hoped he didn’t care. Panting as you felt the sweat begin to gather on your skin. Your legs shook a little but he held you strong. “Good girl.” He removed his fingertips from your clit, once again pressing a kiss to your neck, “But, you know as well as I that this is hardly over…” You rested your body against his chest for a minute, and he carded his fingers through your hair; it was almost soothing as Krennic twisted it between his fingers, “How about we use the bed now, hmm?”

“…Y…Yes…” You could only hazily agree, would he actually fuck you now? You were throbbing again - sure he’d said he wanted to be inside you, but did he know how much you needed him inside you? “Go on,” Krennic pushed you forward with his hand to the small of your back, you stumbled a little but didn’t fall and he observed your walk, the curves of your ass - the lingering of your arousal on your thighs. “Hands down.” He followed you across the floor - he was aware of how uncomfortable he felt, with heat in just the right places, and the way his pulse was running just to look at you. But he had to take this slow. The goal wasn’t just to bed you, it was to erase every other man from your memory too, so that he was your one and only waking thought.

You had to admit your confusion, but placed your hands out on the sheets in front of you to support your body, Krennic made you keep your feet on the floor and for a second you wondered if this was how he was going to do it. It seemed like a waste of a good bed, but your brain was hardly running your feelings here and that throb between your legs was so desperate for something that you didn’t care how you got it. Instead of hearing him shed clothing, or even just undo his zipper, Krennic’s fingers ran your spine. He really was about to commit every inch of you to memory, you weren’t kidding, before he traced them over your ass. You were half expecting him to slap you, but that didn’t happen either. In fact his fingers went right back to your wetness, and you shivered again; Krennic’s movements this time were less teasing as he pushed his fingers into you; you cried out - he didn’t even bother with one at a time. But at least there was something dulling that ache for a second; although you knew what your body really craved. The storm illuminated everything in the room, and far more regularly than before, as his fingers pumped in and out of you. The hums he was making were satisfied, and part of you wished you could see what they looked like crossing his face. In fact the thought that you might not get to see his face almost disappointed you. But you realised something else, the colours the storm were throwing everywhere, the very sound of it - with how much you enjoyed them anyway - and Krennic here with you, was only serving to turn you on even more. And he noticed. “Oh?” This sounded almost curious, “So lightning makes you even more wet, or is that just me?” You swallowed hard, against the feeling of his fingers stretching you, you were desperate for him to get naked now. “To… be honest, no-one has ever fucked me in a lightning storm.” “Huh. Maybe they should have tried, I figure they’re missing out.” You whined again, “Krennic please… please… I can’t take much more of this… fuck, I… I need you.”

You weren’t sure if Krennic did it because he was listening to your plea, or if he was simply just ready to do it himself, but the next thing you knew he’d removed his fingers from you and flipped your body so you were now on your back, on the bed. And as your eyes locked with his you realised exactly what you would have been missing out on. Although serious, those eyes were so incredibly dark and lust rimmed, and hungry for your body, that you thought you might come undone again right then and there. He placed his thumb delicately against your lips for a second, tracing them, before smirking again, “Open your mouth.” You blinked, but finding no reason not to do what he asked, your lips parted, tongue grazing his fingertip. Krennic immediately smirked, “That’s a good girl.” Before he slid the two fingers that had just been inside you, into your mouth. You moaned gently at the sensation. “I bet you taste so good, don’t you?” You could feel yourself blushing again, unsure exactly how to respond to that besides another muffled moan. He withdrew them, eyes narrowed even though he was smiling.

“And you do exactly what I say…” Krennic drew himself back to height, dragging his eyes down your body and as he did so he reached up to his shoulders, undoing the fastenings for his cape. Oh, you were going to get to watch Krennic undress? You moved to help him, but his eyes raised back to your face - and this time the bright white flash made those eyes of crystal blue let you know that he wanted you to stay absolutely still. “You look ready for me darling. Are you?” You nodded, hoping that the look on your face was as pleading as you thought it was. “Born ready for me…” Krennic’s voice this time sent chills through you with how commanding it was, “Mine.” You watched the cape fall to the floor and wished again for that silky texture to brush against your skin, perhaps you would ask him again later. He undid his tunic and shrugged himself out of it; Krennic wasn’t exactly bothering to put on a show for you - but it still felt like one, running his hands through his hair with a breath out before he undid his shirt. Slower now, button by button as he looked into your eyes, that little teasing smile on his face only made your lips part. This man was so gorgeous. And you were here, in his quarters, in his bed. You out of the many hundreds of women on this Battle Station - and all of them beautiful - Director Orson Krennic wanted you. He threw his shirt behind him too, before settling his hands on his waistband. You studied him for just long enough, he was built more toned than chiselled, and his arms and chest were particularly defined; there was a scar on his left-hand side, just above his heart, and you wondered what the story was with that. Maybe in a quieter moment you would ask, but that was not a story for right now. You traced back to where his fingers were waiting for you to take him all in and this time you bit your lip, you’d already felt him against you but you still weren’t sure you were adequately prepared… Undoing his zip with as much tease as his buttons Krennic let his pants and boxers fall at the same time. Your eyes widened, and you swallowed hard ‘Oh, holy shit...’ Your heartbeat picked up pace and you felt yourself clench greedily just at the sight of him. You bit your lip a little harder and raised your eyes back up Krennic’s body to his face, “I want to let you know - although it sounds like you do know - that every single one of those rumours is SO fucking true.” He smirked, “I might have started one or two of them myself.” You almost laughed, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” He gave a shrug, “Well darling, don’t we all want to project the best version of ourselves?” Krennic joined you on the bed, settling himself between your thighs again, pulling your legs around him, “Now I’m going to prove the rest of them true, whilst also letting you in on some things you don’t know.”

You had every right to moan as loud as you did as he pushed into you, feeling completely filled right away. Definitely true - part of you felt you might be smirking very broadly into your coffee in the mornings from now on. Instead of covering your body Krennic stayed in that kneeling position with your legs crossed behind him, hands gripping your thighs and nails digging into your skin. You almost wanted his nails to leave marks, for there to be bruises that lingered for more than just a few days where he gripped you - just to prove it had really happened. If this is a dream please don’t ever let me wake up. He growled as you adjusted to each other, voice husky once more, “You’re so tight.” Your sigh came out a little choked with your breathing as - at first - he moved slow, hands gilding softly over your skin as he lay his palms flat. But he still had enough pressure on you; Krennic was still in control. Right now, being in control was the last thing you were thinking of.

Those slow movements of his were a facade, but they had you already moaning - body tingling as you got used to the feelings of Krennic being inside you. You wondered if you should be trying to be quiet? How many other senior officers had rooms around Krennic’s that could potentially hear this - did Krennic even care? What if they knew it was you though? You weren’t necessarily sure you wanted the reputation that might come with being Krennic’s bed mate, even if it really was only going to be tonight. As if he knew what you were thinking Krennic pushed into you a little harder, causing you to cry out a little louder than before - no point in holding back. “Let me hear you, Y/N. Let me hear those delicious little moans of yours. You can be as loud as you want here, I won’t tell anyone…” He smirked, “You might as well let yourself - because this is going to be the best orgasm of your life, or it’s going to be nothing. I don’t do half measures.” That seemed like an odd form of encouragement, but hot enough to get you mewling again. And he didn’t slow his pace. Instead Krennic dug his nails back into your skin, thrusting into you harder and rougher. You arched your back up, pushing your hips into his to take him deeper and deeper. Usually you weren’t so loud during sex, but with your eyes closed to the ecstasy of it all, each thrust received a moan that steadily grew louder and louder until you were pleading him: “Oh, Krennic… Oh please, more… Harder, Sir, please… please don’t stop…” This was clearly only urging him on as he found another notch in his pace. You might be one for thinking this was the best sex you’d ever had as you opened your eyes to focus on him once more; Krennic’s skin was starting to get that dewy look as sweat started to build, leaving his hair to look a darker shade of grey. And that lightning… oh, that lightning. Watching that storm behind him made the pleasure even more intense. The backdrop was stunning to an already flawless view - what more could you possibly ask for?

His sex was deliciously rough, and it was all you could do to watch his body, the way his muscles moved with each thrust, the tension running from his shoulders, down his arms, through his fingers and the little indents from his nails you could see in your skin. You almost wanted those fingers back inside you again too. Krennic growled as that thought led to you clenching around him: “What are you thinking about?” You looked to his face, obviously you were already flushed, but if it were possible to turn a deeper shade of red you were now. “...Please…” You voice wavered and you realised where this was all heading, “Please Krennic harder… Please I want to- I want to- let me cum for you.” That smirk was just plain dirty, and as he placed one hand under you to raise your hips a little more his next thrust found your sweet spot. You cried out even louder - hit with a shot of pleasure more intense than any you thought you’d ever felt. “Fuck-! Director-! Please!” He chuckled, “I have a first name, Y/N, you can use it.” Did he want you to use it? Did he ask everyone he took to bed to use it? You gasped again as white-hot heat shot through you head to toe and your legs locked around him, pulling him even deeper as you tipped your head back. And he knew as well as you did: “That’s a good girl, that’s my good girl.” Krennic continued to thrust into you until you had to squeeze your eyes shut, head tipped back you very nearly screamed his first name as your body shook and you came undone.

Your short, sharp pants didn’t really have any time to become afterglow, or some slow paced ‘love making’ for him to ride into his own high. Oh no, Krennic wasn’t finished with you yet - and although he lingered at a slower pace for a little - you could feel yourself building up again, heightened by the climax you had just felt. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes and you got the feeling that Krennic was not about to be termed a selfish lover. But a possessive one; your body was his, and he wasn’t finished with you yet. You cried out as he took that pace up again, you could feel him getting harder inside you, every little twitch as he continued those rough thrusts. “You ready for more?” You nodded weakly, moaning again, this would be the third time in one evening. Even if these two were in quick succession. “Yes what?” The commanding tone in his voice and the way he squeezed your thighs a little harder made you shake again, “Yes, Orson. Please… please, baby… I- I’m ready.” As you said his name this time Krennic pushed his body forward so that his hands rested above your shoulders, catching your lips in a harsh kiss. Your hands immediately shot to his arms, over those toned shoulders, and your fingers tangled in his hair. This time his kisses swallowed your moans, and the higher in pitch they got the more he knew you were ready to let go again. With him all over you like this, the scent of that cologne filled your senses. Krennic thrusted into you one last time and let you cry out into his shoulder. He could probably go a little longer - but he’d build you up to that in due time, he couldn’t ruin you on your first time with him. As you clenched around him, just as greedily as before, Krennic growled - hot breath in your ear as your own ecstasy became his. And now you were his too.

He let you continue to embrace him as you both panted, moving his own hands to gently caress your sides, your stomach and your thighs. Although the only sound was your breathing, and you could barely think of anything else, hands carding through his hair and watching those beautiful blue eyes focus on nothing in particular. Until the lighting strike flashed closer to you than before, causing him to look out the window. You followed his line of sight. “It really is gorgeous…” You weren’t sure if that muse was supposed to come out of Krennic’s mouth, but it made you smile. “Mhm… And I need to have sex in storms more often.” He chuckled, turning back to you and kissing your neck, softly, “Well, you know who to call.” Krennic pulled out of you gently, smirking again to see yours and his arousal lingering on your inner thighs. His. Before he lay next to you, eyes still on the storm.

You wondered what the best thing to do now was, as your high unwound. Ironically you didn’t think your body had been this relaxed in a while either. Should you leave? Should you make the decision to leave him before he kicked you out himself? You wondered if that was the polite thing to do. You didn’t know if Krennic was the type to really sleep with someone. When he would be at his most vulnerable. You weren’t sure he would want to show that side of himself to anyone. You decided you would show willing, and would let him know that you would leave if that’s what Krennic wanted - you weren’t about to outstay your welcome. Instead, Krennic did the unexpected and, finally settling down in the sheets, he pulled you into his arms, showering you with delicate kisses and touches. Aftercare... You snuggled into his body, sighing in sleepy content and closed your eyes as he pulled the sheets further around you. Did you dare believe this was happening - No, and yet it was. You were really here, in the Director’s arms. And he wanted you to stay. Krennic pressed a kiss to your forehead, and you could already feel yourself drifting off in his arms: “We’ll review your report in the morning.” *** When you awoke, the lights in his room were up to their brightest day setting. Krennic’s free hand was wandering over your thighs absentmindedly as he lay on his back, your datapad in his other. You tried to concentrate on that small smile on his face, those blue eyes of his, just how good he looked comfortable and relaxed, and out of uniform. You hadn’t noticed the collection of freckles across his chest in the dark of the storm last night either. Suddenly you wanted this moment to last forever, no matter now impossible. This coupled with the travel of his hands, even at this time in the morning, was making you sigh blissfully.

Krennic’s eyes flicked from what he was reviewing to your face as he turned his head slowly. “This report is good. Perfect, even. The ion storm messed with some systems last night, that can’t be helped. But we should all be back online to work later. I agree with your data, consider it reviewed.” Your head tipped curiously. “Systems are down? So…” You bit your lip wickedly, “We don’t have to leave?” Krennic placed your datapad on his bedside table and rolled over, hand moving to between your thighs, he could read that mischievous little smirk of yours perfectly. “Not until much later if I have anything to say about it.” You blinked once slowly, opting to voice your single concern now, before anything got out of hand, it was a whisper that seemed so out of place. But maybe that made it the perfect time. “I don’t want to be just a one-time thing.” Krennic’s eyebrows knitted for a second, before he smiled gently, other hand moving to your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb before he tangled his fingers in your hair, bringing you back to his lips. “Trust me, that was never a consideration.”

---

Thank you SO much for reading, oh my gosh I’m slightly emotional over this one. I NEVER thought it’d be this long. And it’s 200. Like... there’s 200 of these things!?

I didn’t think I would get past one. And it’s ALL because of you guys!

Thank you for all your love and support - I know I keep saying it but I truly mean it. It means the world to me. 💙💜

#200!#Orson Krennic #Ben Mendelsohn #Orson Krennic x Reader #So. FYI for everyone the original request notes end at his 'come to my quarters we have data to review' and I just... didn't stop!#Sorry I was unable to resist this and I REALLY wanted it.#For any questions on the GIF just look at his face and tell me that /isn't/ how he's looking at reader throughout this fic #That's why I picked it.#Krennic x Reader #Director Krennic x Reader #Officer Benja Vy #I had to do waaaay too much scrolling to find that-! Hahah - our conversations!#Okay so in all the fics I've written for him Lorena is the only one(s) that get smutty. So this is ALSO your first Krennic/Reader smut!!#Linzi Writes #Linzi Writes Requests #Rogue One #Rogue One A Star Wars Story #That... /and he had Grace Too/ line #You either cackled like I did or you groaned #it was a final edit addition at like 10pm on the night of posting #Don't hate me I thought it was clever-!

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a-taste-of-divinity · 3 years ago

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i am not the most beautiful writer, but i have words fighting to leave me and a place to send them to and only one person alive who knows who i am beyond my url and i think i’m alright with them knowing this.

i think that i’m alright most days and that my pain is finally fading but there are also terrible and disgusting things that i’ve done that make me flinch at my own reflection (i haven’t looked in a mirror since Christmas eve, please don’t ask me why)

i can barely sleep in my room most nights and my family is used to looking for me in places that aren’t my bed but i stay inside this room of horrors and i face every terrible thing i’m reminded of. i cry more days than i don’t and sleep usually comes after 2 in the morning and a glass of something that i didn’t actually like. i have more vices than i truly want to admit but you need to learn somehow and i’m a coward so i’ll just let you read this (if i call it an open letter does it make it more poetic?)

you are the sweetest thing i’ve ever seen and i feel like we’re a doomed story because i am bitter and distant and cold and you are warm and sweet and you are always there. we’re taking this slow, but god, you are the one person that has made me imagine a proper future, the kind you don’t have to rush into and i have been writing to you in secret letters i’ll never send since we met and we hugged three times before i even had to leave. the person i am is more though and damnit i don’t really want to be, but cutting parts of myself out has never worked before (i’ve tried, i still don’t know if i miss it or not)

this is my bad and this is my ugly. i’m obsessive and difficult and i hate doing the dishes and i haven’t cleaned my room since i moved in. i have dirty laundry on the floor, mixed in with bad memories that i can’t seem to wash out and i am haunting myself and no one seems to be able to tell that i feel like a broken mold, cracking every time i give a real smile (the one that has me crinkling my nose and closing my eyes most of the way)

i feel like a string of broken pieces tied up with a bow and promises to do more and be better that i feel like i’ll never be able to keep. if i could i think sometimes i might stay in bed for days, but pain and fatigue feel like a bad excuse to not get anything done (it’s not, for everyone but me, it’s not)

it’s hard not to wonder how it would be if i was someone else and i know that’s not healthy, but honestly at this point i have to wonder if healthy is something i can really be. you’ve seen me cry and we’ve watched movies together and played games and i’ve fallen asleep in the car on your lap and everything feels so easy in those moments and then i feel like i’m falling from a high that was never meant for me to feel in the first place (do i deserve peace? do i even want it?)

long story short, i feel like a living tragedy and we all know how tragedies end. i don’t want to hurt you but i am greedy and human and alive and maybe it won’t be a hard ending for us because maybe the fates have taken pity and i am willing to risk everything on a maybe (i always have preferred unlikely odds)

—i feel like i’m lying to you (could you still love me like this?)

#spilled ink #personal #student #wlw #writing community #writblr #sapphic #im scared #feelings #this is so long #writers #lgbtq #lgbtq+#i miss her #poetry #sort of #greek myth references

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harry-leroy · 3 years ago

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for the fic prompts, laertes and hamlet + “win” if you’re willing to write those two :)

Hi! I'm just having a look at my ask box, and goodness I know it has been a good while since I have even looked at things in my inbox. However, I just realized that I have not written anything (academically, or for fun) in several months, so I thought we would start with some fic prompts to settle back in with *words* again.

This was incredibly fun to write, though I am realizing how difficult it is just to get to 1000 words when writing prose - if anyone writes in prose on the regular, I bow down to you. I also kind of split up the characters (because of course I would), but I also used characters from that Hamlet play I posted snippets of earlier this year on my blog (because I'm obsessed with this little French OC boyfriend I've given Laertes), so that's the universe I'm operating in.

I'll leave it under a cut! Thank you again for all of your lovely asks (and if anyone wants to request a fic, you can totally leave something in my ask box, it just might take several months for me to get back to you ahahah).

“What is it today? I have grown bored of playing cards,” Etienne rolled over to kiss Laertes on the cheek, then on the nose, the mouth, marking a blazon with the repeated gesture.

“We all have,” Laertes returned, between breaths. “I have certainly grown too old to gamble,”

“Nonsense,” Etienne said. “You are young. Believe me,”

“Old in my heart then,” Laertes said. “They weren’t lying when they said France dulls a man’s senses. Libertines are about as common as beggars or whores. A fool I was to expect some kind of excitement away from Denmark,”

“Who else would give us our money?” Etienne asked. “No cards today, my love,”

“Swords then,” Laertes sat up, still following Etienne’s affection. “I can gamble with the rest of them, but perhaps I’ve grown soft in my physicality,”

“What? Do you intend to be a soldier when your fortune comes calling?” Etienne asked.

“If I must,” Laertes sighed. “You always challenge my thoughts, Etienne. More often than not, I find myself at a loss with you. I must win at something,”

“Do not trouble yourself with that loss,” Etienne pressed his forehead against Laertes’s. “Men like me must win at something, considering where our pithy fortunes are made. I merely tell you what I see. I must tell someone of interest,”

“What do you have to tell today?” Laertes asked.

“Even when you’ve put your cards away, you are still building your hand,” Etienne paused in his affection. “First, it’s sex, then it is gambling, then dancing, now combat. A fair hand, I will admit, though you are missing the winning trick,”

“Oh? What would that be?” Laertes asked.

“Diplomacy,” Etienne said, eyes grave, as though he were truly a way seer. It was like that with Etienne, Laertes knew. Every night was like having a counsel with a cautious God, profane as such a comparison felt. Laertes would often wonder if others had looked into Etienne’s eyes and saw the bold heaven he saw, the judgement, the doomsday book, written in fire. Some nights, he wondered if Etienne were real.

Laertes let out a laugh.

“Diplomacy is a dead man’s language,” he said. “Have you heard our new king? Just talking, talking, talking… the prince too. No one of any real consequence has ears, you know,”

“So, that is why you do not listen to me?” Etienne teased, placing another kiss on Laertes’s lips. To Laertes, it was God chastising him again, knocking down his attempt at pretty words in exchange for reason, self-reflection, guilt. Etienne kept talking between kisses. “Or to your father? Or to your sister? Because you are a man of consequence?”

“Some men must be,” Laertes’s face fell. “Whether we wish it or not,” In truth, Etienne was no better than any common whore. He took his gold and spent it where he could. He made love to other men under this roof, or perhaps out on the streets, if the price were high enough. France was nothing but a hell, gilded in pleasure to cover the sores beneath. Polonius was right to send a spy his way, though there were no real secrets to uncover. France was itself. Laertes his own self. The shame had long since melted away after Etienne’s tender kisses.

“Alright,” Etienne said, after a moment, tone brighter, keen on making the joy. In his heart, the love, whatever feeling came to him so fleetingly, last but only a moment longer. “Swords it is. Leave diplomacy for the little men. You better win. Make it worth my time to watch,”

* * *

“It is off,” Hamlet frowned. “The attack. It is all a simple matter of parry and riposte. Like the joke, you see, Horatio? Except I am at the end of it, stabbed through,”

Horatio only picked his head up upon hearing his own name, as he had been straightening the blade of his foil. His friend had been slightly off in his footing today, though it was nothing to wince at. Even in his tired state, Hamlet had still made a joke out of fencing, no matter how dire he made it sound. That blend of the humorous and the horrible was something only Hamlet could bravely serve and make it seem convincing, if not ridiculous.

“Would you like to stop?” Horatio asked.

“Stop? If only it were so easy… to stop.” Hamlet said before taking a sharp breath in and holding it, as if to demonstrate.

“I suppose, my lord,” Horatio said, his tongue quick despite how tired it felt, if only his friend would breathe again.

“Again, Horatio,” Hamlet rose to his feet.

“If you insist on it,” Horatio replied.

“What would you rather me do?” Hamlet’s temper rose, as it had been edging that way all morning. Temper appeared to be the curse of any royal line these days.

“I really don’t know,” Horatio shrugged with only one shoulder and readied his stance across their makeshift piste. “There are times when something such as a swordfight does not matter, in the end, win or lose. The world turns on and on, really, but… I speak too readily,”

“No,” Hamlet nodded. “No, you speak perfectly,”

“What is it that you fear, my lord? Truly? Deeply? Irrevocably?” Horatio asked, their friendship as schoolboys taking the greater part of his mannered reason.

“Truly?” Hamlet lowered his sword, “That what you say is true. That the odds are tossed against our favors by some terrible third hand,”

“The hand of God?” Horatio mused.

“Or that of my uncle,” Hamlet met the humor of Horatio’s tone.

“I could not imagine your uncle taking a sword against you,” Horatio said.

A moment passed. Hamlet turned away and off their piste.

“That is it though, is it not?” he asked, voice haunted. “He would not. He holds onto cards we cannot even see, much less imagine, until he plays them. Oh, and he plays them brutally, does he not?”

“I do not know what to say to that, my lord,” Horatio said after a pause, his manner returning, the Wittenberg friend lost once more.

“There is nothing to say,” Hamlet smiled, though it did not reach his eyes. “That is how you know we have hit a truth. Even at Wittenberg, when the truths we hit were just beyond the reality of our real lives, hypothetical and such, it always did taste bitter. There is loss for all of us, right at the end of the bout,”

“But fight we must,” Horatio held out a hand.

“Yes,” Hamlet took the hand in his own. “Yes. Fight we will,”

#thank you so much macy!!#this whole summer has been *weird* so i'm trying to reconnect here on tumblr #because this is where it all began bby #hamlet #horatio #laertes #shakespeare #my fic #writing #suits of woe #(also this is probably angsty oh well all of my fics are angsty ahahahah?)

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geckosong · 4 years ago

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Anime Recommendations

Here is a list of ten anime (in no particular order) that are definitely worth watching, yet don’t seem to get nearly as much recognition as they deserve.

Terror in Resonance (2014)

This is my personal favorite anime and I push people to watch it whenever I can, which is exactly what I’m doing here.

This show is set-in present-day Tokyo, which has been decimated by a terrorist attack, and the only hint to the identities of the culprits is a bizarre video uploaded on the internet. For the majority of the show the plot follows two different narratives: those of the investigators tasked with bringing down the terrorists, and of the terrorists themselves.

My Rating: 10/10

Toilet-Bound Hanako-Kun (2020)

This anime is probably one of my favorites, if not my number one, in terms of art style. I love everything about the character designs and the colors used. It is just so soothing to look at.

The famous "Seven Wonders" that every school seems to have are a staple of Japanese urban legends. One of the most well-known of these tales is that of Hanako-san: Rumors claim that if one successfully manages to summon Hanako-san, the ghost of a young girl who haunts the school's bathrooms, she will grant her summoner any wish. When Nene Yashiro, a girl hoping for romantic fortune, dares to summon Hanako-san, she discovers that the rumored "girl" is actually a boy! After a series of unfortunate events involving Nene's romantic desires, she is unwillingly entangled in the world of the supernatural, becoming Hanako-kun's assistant. Soon, she finds out about Hanako-kun's lesser-known duty: maintaining the fragile balance between mortals and apparitions.

My Rating: 8/10

Kids on the Slope (2012)

If you love jazz, or history, or even heartwarming tales of friendship then this is the show for you. I will admit that is has a bit of a slow start, but by the time you get to the end you’ll be wishing for more.

In 1966, introverted classical pianist and top student Kaoru Nishimi has just arrived in Kyushu for his first year of high school. Having constantly moved from place to place since his childhood, he abandons all hope of fitting in, preparing himself for another lonely, meaningless year. That is, until he encounters the notorious delinquent Sentarou Kawabuchi.

Sentarou's immeasurable love for jazz music inspires Kaoru to learn more about the genre, and as a result, he slowly starts to break out of his shell, making his very first friend. Kaoru begins playing the piano at after-school jazz sessions, located in the basement of fellow student Ritsuko Mukae's family-owned record shop. As he discovers the immense joy of using his musical talents to bring enjoyment to himself and others, Kaoru's summer might just crescendo into one that he will remember forever.

My Rating: 6/10

Hyouka (2012)

Energy-conservative high school student Houtarou Oreki ends up with more than he bargained for when he signs up for the Classics Club at his sister's behest—especially when he realizes how deep-rooted the club's history really is. Begrudgingly, Oreki is dragged into an investigation concerning the 45-year-old mystery that surrounds the club room.

Accompanied by his fellow club members, the knowledgeable Satoshi Fukube, the stern but benign Mayaka Ibara, and the ever-curious Eru Chitanda, Oreki must combat deadlines and lack of information with resourcefulness and hidden talent, in order to not only find the truth buried beneath the dust of works created years before them, but of other small side cases as well.

My Rating: 6/10

Tonari no Seki-Kun: The Master of Killing Time (2014)

I absolutely adore this show. The episodes are only about 8 minutes long, and there is very little talking, yet the story still comes through perfectly. It never fails to brighten my day when I’m feeling down.

All Rumi Yokoi wants to do is focus during school, but she is constantly distracted by Toshinari Seki, her neighboring classmate. Paying attention during class is the least of Seki's worries, as he obsesses over intricate setups created using an assortment of items, from an elaborate domino course on his desk to a treacherous war played out with shogi pieces. Yokoi desperately attempts to focus in class, only to be repeatedly sucked into his intriguing eccentricities; however, they always seem to end up with her getting in trouble with their teacher. Fortunately, lessons will never be dull with Seki's antics around!

My Rating: 9/10

Classroom of the Elite (2017)

On the surface, Koudo Ikusei Senior High School is a utopia. The students enjoy an unparalleled amount of freedom, and it is ranked highly in Japan. However, the reality is less than ideal. Four classes, A through D, are ranked in order of merit, and only the top classes receive favorable treatment.

Kiyotaka Ayanokouji is a student of Class D, where the school dumps its worst. There he meets the unsociable Suzune Horikita, who believes she was placed in Class D by mistake and desires to climb all the way to Class A, and the seemingly amicable class idol Kikyou Kushida, whose aim is to make as many friends as possible.

While class membership is permanent, class rankings are not; students in lower ranked classes can rise in rankings if they score better than those in the top ones. Additionally, in Class D, there are no bars on what methods can be used to get ahead. In this cutthroat school, can they prevail against the odds and reach the top?

My Rating: 7/10

The Morose Mononokean (2016)

The start of Hanae Ashiya's high school career has not been easy—he has spent all of the first week in the infirmary, and his inexplicable condition is only getting worse. The cause of his torment is the mysterious fuzzy creature that has attached itself to him ever since he stumbled upon it the day before school began.

As his health continues to decline and the creature grows in size, Hanae comes across a flyer advertising an exorcist who expels youkai. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, he calls the number and is led to the Mononokean, a tea room which suddenly appears next to the infirmary. A morose-sounding man, Haruitsuki Abeno, reluctantly helps Hanae but demands payment afterward. Much to Hanae's dismay, he cannot afford the fee and must become an employee at the Mononokean to work off his debt. And to make things worse, his new boss is actually one of his classmates. If Hanae ever hopes to settle his debt, he must work together with Abeno to guide a variety of dangerous, strange, and interesting youkai back to the Underworld.

My Rating: 6/10

Beyond the Boundary (2013)

Another of my favorite aesthetically pleasing anime, this show has been the one that I show to friends who claim that anime cannot be beautiful (yes, several of my friends have actually said things along that line).

Mirai Kuriyama is the sole survivor of a clan of Spirit World warriors with the power to employ their blood as weapons. As such, Mirai is tasked with hunting down and killing "youmu"—creatures said to be the manifestation of negative human emotions. One day, while deep in thought on the school roof, Mirai comes across Akihito Kanbara, a rare half-breed of youmu in human form. In a panicked state, she plunges her blood saber into him only to realize that he's an immortal being. From then on, the two form an impromptu friendship that revolves around Mirai constantly trying to kill Akihito, in an effort to boost her own wavering confidence as a Spirit World warrior. Eventually, Akihito also manages to convince her to join the Literary Club, which houses two other powerful Spirit World warriors, Hiroomi and Mitsuki Nase.

As the group's bond strengthens, however, so does the tenacity of the youmu around them. Their misadventures will soon turn into a fight for survival as the inevitable release of the most powerful youmu, Beyond the Boundary, approaches.

My Rating: 7/10

Mekakucity Actors (2014)

I think about this show far more than I’d like to admit. The way they bring different plot lines together continues to amaze me 6 years after watching it for the first time.

On the hot summer day of August 14, Shintarou Kisaragi is forced to leave his room for the first time in two years. While arguing with the cyber girl Ene who lives in his computer, Shintarou Kisaragi accidentally spills soda all over his keyboard. Though they try to find a replacement online, most stores are closed due to the Obon festival, leaving them with no other choice but to visit the local department store. Venturing outside makes Shintarou extremely anxious, but the thought of living without his computer is even worse. It's just his luck that on the day he finally goes out, he's caught in a terrifying hostage situation.

Luckily, a group of teenagers with mysterious eye powers, who call themselves the "Mekakushi Dan," assist Shintarou in resolving the situation. As a result, he is forced to join their group, along with Ene. Their abilities seem to be like pieces of a puzzle, connecting one another, and as each member's past is unveiled, the secret that ties them together is slowly brought to light.

My Rating: 8/10

Angels of Death (2018)

You totally want to get emotionally attached to cereal killers, right? Of course you do, that’s why you should totally watch this anime.

With dead and lifeless eyes, Rachel Gardner wishes only to die. Waking up in the basement of a building, she has no idea how or why she's there. She stumbles across a bandaged murderer named Zack, who is trying to escape. After promising to kill her as soon as he is free, Rachel and Zack set out to ascend through the building floor by floor until they escape.

However, as they progress upward, they meet more twisted people, and all of them seem familiar with Rachel. What is her connection to the building, and why was she placed in it? Facing a new boss on each floor, can Rachel and Zack both achieve their wishes?

My Rating: 7/10

Bonus: Stars Align (2019)

I am adding one extra because this anime deserves so much more than it got. I adore every single character in this show and want nothing but to see them be happy. There is so much I adore about this show that I can’t put it all into words. I would recommend you watch this so you can share in my rage that the story was cut off halfway through with no current plans of completing it. There is no manga. There is no way of knowing what happens next. This recommendation is entirely for the purpose of generating more public outcry in the hopes that that causes them to finish the show. Please anime gods, if you are reading this I need to know what happens to my smol tennis boys. Are they safe? Are they alright?

Constantly outperformed by the girls' club, the boys' soft tennis club faces disbandment due to their poor skills and lack of positive results in matches. In desperate need of members,

Toma Shinjou is looking to recruit capable players, but he fails to scout anyone. Enter Maki Katsuragi, a new transfer student who demonstrates great reflexes when he catches a stray cat in his classroom, instantly capturing Toma's attention. With his interest piqued, Toma ambitiously asks Maki to join the boys' team but is quickly rejected, as Maki doesn't wish to join any clubs. Toma refuses to back down and ends up persuading Maki—only under the condition that Toma will pay him for his participation and cover other club expenses.

As Maki joins the team, his incredible form and quick learning allow him to immediately outshine the rest of the team. Although this gives rise to conflict among the boys, Maki challenges and pushes his fellow team members to not only keep up with his seemingly natural talent, but also drive them to devote themselves to the game they once neglected.

This story focuses on the potential of the boys' soft tennis club and their discovery of their own capability, while also enduring personal hardships and dealing with the darker side of growing up in middle school.

#anime #anime recommendation #zankyou no terror #terror in resonance #toilet bound hanako kun #kids on the slope #hyouka #tonari no seki kun #my neighbor seki #classroom of the elite #the morose mononokean #beyond the boundary #mekakucity actors #angels of death #stars align

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ojcobsessed · 4 years ago

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Oliver Jackson-Cohen, on Bly Manor and Other Things That Haunt Him

by Diana Colcer for Cosmopolitan Romania, 24 October 2020

Energetic, suave, and anchored in the reality of the problems around us, Oliver Jackson-Cohen is part of a generation of actors looking for something else, something that will remain imprinted in the collective memory. I talked about this with the actor you know from The Haunting - by the way, the latest season, The Haunting of Bly Manor, now on Netflix, is the ideal choice for a scary night, if you want to spend Halloween at home this year. Let's see what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

"Why choose a role that's safe when you can take risks?" This is the question that came to my mind as I was documenting the interview with Oliver Jackson-Cohen. Because that's what I was gathering from the things we know about him. You first saw Oliver as Luke in The Haunting of Hill House - and now, just in time for Halloween, you can see him again alongside Victoria Pedretti in the even scarier second season, The Haunting of Bly Manor. In this adaptation of the short ghost story The Turn of the Screw by Henry James, Oliver Jackson-Cohen plays the charming and manipulative Peter Quint, a character who hides many scary secrets and… I won't give away more!

So you understand what I'm talking about: Oliver is used to playing characters haunted both by their own inner conflicts (PTSD due to childhood traumas, drug addiction, etc.) and, well, ghosts. And the answer to the question at the beginning of the text, which I did not ask out loud, was given to me while I was talking to him. Born in London, Oliver, the son of fashion designer Betty Jackson, has dedicated his entire career to a different philosophy of acting, starting from the premise that fear makes you grow, develop and get out of your comfort zone.

And that's exactly how most of his roles are. After the BBC drama Larkrise to Candleford, he starred in the Emmy Award-nominated mini-series World Without End, then in shows such as Dracula and Man in an Orange Shirt. In real life, when he "strips off" his characters, Oliver is a guy oozing charisma and sex appeal: he’s 1.91m tall and has a pair of blue eyes in which you can get really lost, an extremely attractive and a style of being (and, let’s face it, dressing) extremely cool.

So, he’s one to watch, and, as such, we invite you to read the interview he gave us exclusively for Cosmopolitan Romania, after which we found out spectacular details about the unseen parts of horror, fashion, lifestyle and what Oliver Jackson-Cohen has something to say about Bly Manor and other things that haunt him.

What made you determined, at only 6 years old, to become an actor? Simple! I saw Home Alone at the movies and suddenly I wanted to be Kevin McAllister. I just couldn't believe a child was appearing in a movie. I remember my father explaining to me that he was an actor and then I said to myself, "Well, I'll do all that, too."

Many people who discover their dream at such a young age change their minds later. How did you stay in acting?

Looking back, it was probably a stupid thought [process]. But I became fascinated by how you can disappear into another world and how you can become whoever you want. I still think that these things are what kept up my passion for acting. I love the whole process behind this job and the way you translate into reality something that is not, in fact, real. It's also been about luck, I admit - that people pay me to do that, and that's how I make a living.

You appeared in the first season of The Haunting of Hill House as Luke Crain. I was impressed with how you managed to get Luke away from the typical drug addict stereotype. How did you avoid this cliché? I have seen many portrayals of drug addicts over the years and I wanted to show what the person behind the addiction is like, the one who is not defined by this addiction. I think that's an extremely important thing. All over the world, people are struggling with drug addiction and, most of the time, they are excluded and marginalised because of this, but also because they are seen only in this way, as addicts. I didn't intend to do this with Luke. I felt that it was essential for the public to see the man in him, to see that he is someone who is really shaken inside, someone who has lost control of what is happening to him, but who is always trying to control his addiction.

As a society, we usually condemn or shun such people. We need more empathy in these cases, and these people need to receive the attention shown primarily to them, not to the addiction they suffer from.

When your work is so rigorous, so emotional, I imagine it consumes you a lot to play a character who has struggled with addictions all his life. How do you detach yourself from this intensity? I can't tell you exactly. I don't think you can, to be honest. For the series The Haunting… the filming was long and stressful for all the actors, but also for the crew. I think you have to gradually detach yourself from the story, as much as you can, when you get home, but at the same time, you have to stay in the character's shoes, because the next day you return to the set for a new round of filming. It was a demanding experience, but it was worth it.

Is there anything you wish you’d known before you started working a horror TV show? Or about a series with an intense family drama? Know that it's not that scary when you're filming. Not at all. I started working from the pre-production phase and I knew it was going to be a ghost series… and, initially, I had the impression that there was always “someone” in my Atlanta apartment. But from the moment you get on set, you realise that the series about ghosts is just another job. The coolest thing when you are part of a horror series is when you realise, in the end, that you can watch it [later] without any problems, because all the tension and panic are built up in the editing process.

I know you're a big fan of the horror genre in general. Is it an area you want to explore further? I think so. But I wouldn't say that I intended, from the beginning, specifically, to explore any certain genre. Everything is, in fact, in the characters. Always. If it's an interesting role, I definitely want it. But what I find incredible about this genre is that the dose of horror is often a metaphor for other elements of our lives. But when horror is done properly, it can affect us incredibly, which is true.

You're back to haunt us again in the second season of the Netflix anthology series, this time called The Haunting of Bly Manor. What can you tell me about the new character you play? I'm afraid I don't want to reveal too much and I'd rather you watch the show and form your own impression. All I can say is that the new series, Bly Manor, is completely different from the first, which I like. My current character, a young man named Peter, is the polar opposite of Luke, so for me, as an actor, he was wonderful. Ah, also don’t even try to watch this season at night, alone at home, because the plot is really creepy!

About The Invisible Man, another classic monster comeback, in which you play alongside Elisabeth Moss (The Handmaid's Tale), what can you tell me? The film debates the notion of ownership of a person (editor’s note: Jackson-Cohen's character is a sociopath obsessed with control, and we don't know if he terrorises his ex-girlfriend as a ghost or if he actually staged his death). I look forward to seeing how this film will be received by the public, because Leigh Whannell is an incredible screenwriter and director. He wrote a fresh story, which I find brilliant, which follows the Invisible Man in the context of connections with other characters, but also with real people. It's a very clever movie.

How would you best describe yourself using the title of a movie?

Hm… The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly, the classic directed by Sergio Leone in 1966.

Are you into fashion? Yes, I really am. I was raised by my parents who worked in the fashion industry, which influenced me quite a lot over the years.

Do you wear high-fashion pieces in everyday life? Why not?!

Your mother is the designer Betty Jackson. Has he ever given you advice on clothing style?

I don't know if she gave me style advice in the true sense of the word, but it's great to talk to her about style and clothes. Her belief has always been one like "Wear something that makes you feel good,” so I adopted this perspective as well. She is an incredible woman, with a good eye for fashion, so she often helps me.

You divide your life between London and Los Angeles. How do men groom themselves in the two cities? Have you noticed different approaches?

Probably. LA is a more eccentric place in terms of style and fashion, with more pressure to that end, at least from what I've noticed. In Los Angeles, it's more important to look good physically. In London, on the other hand, it seems more important to combine clothes and accessories in a cool and smart way.

How do you stay in shape?

I honestly don’t care. I only exercise when I have to, and when I don't have to, I eat everything I can. I go to the gym if I notice that my weight is getting out of control.

What do you like to do in your free time?

To be the laziest person. Seriously. I would love to count all the hours I’ve spent sleeping or lazing around!

#oliver jackson-cohen #oliver jackson cohen #peter quint #luke crain #thobm #the haunting of bly manor #the invisible man #interviews #2020 #photo shoots #translated by me and google

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

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Island Dreams - Chapter 5

Hello readers :) Just one chapter tonight but it's just shy of 4k words so hopefully it will do fine :)

so... bit of angst coming. Apologies there is a bit of fluff too but not what you hope. Please don't hate Elias. He is my secret weapon to bring our two idiots together. So just be nice to him.

Fun facts: 1. I adore Roald Dahl like our trio. 2. The scene at Luskentyre with the dark clouds and the savage rain. Been there done that. Luckily I saw it in the sun as well. 3. I hug standing stones. I am a serial hugger. Hugged the ones at Callanish and have a few photos of me hugging stones in Orkney as well.

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A week had passed.

Rowan opened the bookshop on time as usual. Switched on the lights and the computer and went to the back and dragged to the counter the bulky box containing the orders that had arrived the previous night.

Once he cracked the box open he realised Aelin’s was at the top, staring at him. He sighed, took the book and sat on the stool behind his counter. For a whole week he hated himself for what he said to her. He had definitely gone too far and he had to find a way to apologise and make it up to her for his dreadful behaviour.

Gently he flipped the book in his hands and read a couple of random pages and smiled. He was positive she was going to love the last book in the series and a part of him was quite eager to discuss the book with her.

He had read the series a long time ago and loved it. Flipping through the pages he found some of the lines he loved and a tenuous smile appeared on his face at the thought that Aelin reminded him so much the female main character in the book.

Both of them had fire in them.

He hadn’t seen her in a week and Maeve told him that she hadn’t been at the coffee shop either.

His aunt’s words still haunted him. She is just as lost as you are.

What could have happened to her? She always appeared to him as full of life and quite energetic, but he guessed that might be a mask she would wear for stranger, for people who were not close to her. He wanted to meet the real Aelin, problems at all. He thought pondered on his aunt’s words. What if she really was the key to get out of the funk he had been stuck for a while? What if he could help her as well? He admitted that he wanted to be his friend and he was going to prove it to her.

Deep down though he knew he had another reason, a bit more selfish. He found her attractive. More than that. The first day in the shop she had taken his breath away. And she loved books probably just as much as he did. Something that Lyria… no. He was not going there.

He closed his eyes and tried to picture Aelin. Her funny attempts to use Gaelic gave him fuzzy feelings.

He had spent a week mulling and thinking about her. He could not stop doing that. She had made him feel again. But the idea terrified him. He had committed completely to a woman once. He gave her all of him, his love, trust, respect and heart. And she destroyed everything. He sighed and put the book on the shelf behind him where he kept all the orders to be collected. He had to find a way to tell her her book was here. In his anger he forgot to take her phone number or address and now he was stuck. He only had to hope that she would remember and pop in in the shop. If he could see her one more time and apologise…

He was busy unpacking when the bell rang and a dark-haired man entered the shop.

“Good morning, can I help you?”

The man looked at him and smiled “Yes, definitely. I am looking for a book. Something on Callanish.” He explained looking around the shop with interest “It’s for a woman. It’s a present. She is new here and I would like to give her a welcome to the islands present. She just visited Callanish for the first time and she loved it.”

Rowan felt sick for a moment. Was that guy talking about Aelin? Because the description sounded very similar. Sadness hit him. So she was doing fine after all. She did not need him.

“I have a nice selection. Ranging form the usual tourist guide to something more fascinating and historical.” And he showed the guy the books. The stranger took one of the bigger ones. One of his favourites.

“That is a great one.” He added pointing at the one the guy was holding in his hands “It has info about the archeological excavations, theories about its use and it connects to the mythology as well. It’s quite complete. Your friend will love it.”

The man smiled again and kept the book.

“Can I just have a look around?”

Rowan nodded keeping an eye on the man. Could it be that he was talking about Aelin? He did his best to convince himself that it was just a coincidence. It had to be. But sadness struck anyway. He had planned to get that book for Aelin. He was positive she would have adored it. And now chances were another man was going to give it to her.

The man came back with a second book. A colouring book of the Hebrides “I have a feeling Aelin will love them.”

Rowan stopped. His world froze. And his heart was beating furiously in his chest.

“She is a lucky woman.” Rowan forced himself to say. “Would you like me to wrap them since it’s a present.”

“That would be amazing if it’s not too much trouble.”

Rowan took a deep breath and steadied his hands.

“You have a great place here. And I love your Roald Dahl display.”

Those words stung. That was one of the first things Aelin had said to him.

“Big fan.” Was all that Rowan managed ignoring the roaring fury rising in him. At his stupidity. His bad temper. That could have been him if only he had been able to control himself and be nice for once in his life.

“When I was little I was obsessed with James and the Giant Peach.” The man continued while Rowan was working on wrapping the books. He had a feeling that Aelin was a big fan of Matilda.

“Here we go.” Rowan passed the present to the man.

The stranger paid and left the shop.

Rowan sat in silence for a while then stood, turned the sign of the shop to closed, switched off the lights, locked the door and went home.

All of a sudden he did not feel in the mood anymore to deal with people.

He grabbed his car and drove in silence until he reached his favourite spot on the islands. He went to the Butt of Lewis, sat on the edge of the cliff and admired the sea raging against the cliffs, mirroring perfectly his current mood.

Aelin had taken a day off from exploring. She had driven a lot the previous days and she needed a break from here car. She had gone back to Luskentyre, however this time she was not so lucky with the weather. An horrible storm had hit once there. And still, the place was stunning. The dark clouds heavy with rain seemed to enhance the blues and green of the water. A strange light had embraced the bay and the sand appeared even whiter. Then the rain hit and she thought she had never seen a rainstorm so brutal. She had stayed in the car and waited it out. Being Scotland, the weather was very changeable and ten minutes later the sun was out and the most amazing rainbow arched across the beach. Not a single one of her photo did any justice to the beauty in front of her.

She was now wandering around Stornoway and convinced herself to go to Rowan’s shop. It had been a week and her book should have arrived. The last one had ended in an epic cliffhanger and now she needed to know. It was a matter of life or death.

She turned the corner and a strange feeling overcame her when she noticed the lights off. At the entrance door a sign said Dùinte and underneath Closed in English. It was almost noon, how was it possible it was closed? Rowan was punctual to a fault. Was he sick? She wished she had his mobile number to get in touch with him.

She was worried.

But most of all she realised she missed him. Yes, they barely knew each other and they didn’t have the best of the beginnings, but still…

She sighed and walked away.

In that instant Elias texted her. She had caved in the end and texted him. They had started chatting. That morning he had told her that he was in town and they agreed to meet.

He was waiting for her at the parking near the ferry terminal. She tucked her sadness away and walked toward the terminal.

She had debated every day since she gave Elias her number if she had done the right thing.

She clearly felt something for Rowan. What it was, she still wasn’t sure. And although he had been grumpy and they fought, something about him resonated within her. As if his soul somehow called out to hers.

The rational part of her quickly rejected the idea as the twisted and unachievable idea of love that her books had given her over the years.

Human’s relationships were nothing but pain.

For a moment she argued to herself that for some inexplicable reason his soul had somehow resonated with Rowan’s. That if they were in a book instead, someone would have pointed out that the pining was due to them being soulmates.

A minute later after that thought she snorted loudly.

They were everything but. They weren’t even friends.

What about enemies to lovers? She snorted again and closed the distance to where Elias was waiting for her.

There were more chances of Rowan strangling her than them becoming friends.

All that mental gymnastics to convince herself that texting Elias was good. That she was not betraying Rowan.

But at the same time she felt a horrible person. She had no idea what she wanted from Elias. She was not ready yet to commit again. But still, she didn’t want to mislead him. He seemed such a nice guy. Hurting was the last thing she wanted to do to him.

Aelin finally arrived at the car park and saw him. He was as tall as Rowan. He was standing beside his car. Sunglasses on his head, dark shorts, a light blue polo shirt hugged his upper body nicely and she could not force her gaze away from him. He was stunning.

But he is not Rowan a voice said in her head and she told it to shut up.

“Hello.” He waved at her and she noticed his bright smile and his two dimples make their appearance. She had forgotten his smile.

“Hey.” She said joining him near his car “Nice car by the way. Being an engineer must pay really well.” She joked and hoped she hadn’t gone too far as her usual.

“Love a woman with a good taste in cars. It’s a Tesla. Cost me a kidney but this baby it’s worth it.”

“Of course you get a Tesla. You are an environmental engineer so an electric car makes sense. If you were a book character you’d be considered perfectly in character.”

Elias laughed loudly at the joke. Then he opened the door, and grabbed something from the car “For you. A welcome to the islands gift.”

Aelin took the present and froze when she noticed the sticker on top. The present came from Rowan’s bookshop. All of a sudden she forgot how to breath. At least she did manage to hide her shaky hands from Elias.

She opened the present and squealed in delight when she noticed the book about Callanish and underneath a colouring book. She put the second on the roof of the car and opened the first one. Inside the dust jacket she noticed a small note. That, definitely did not belong there. The calligraphy was neat Your book is here. I guess you want to know what happens after the cliffhanger. Then at the bottom of the note I am sorry. R.

How did he know that Elias was giving her the book? A wave of panic hit her.

Sneakily she hid the note from Elias and pretended to browse the book, but her mind kept going back to Rowan’s message. Her heart was hammering in her chest, so much that it almost hurt. The words I am sorry resonating in her head like an echo.

“Glad you loved the books. I forgot there was a nice bookshop in town. I got it from there. The one about Callanish came with a recommendation from the owner.” Aelin felt like crying. She was just picturing Rowan helping Elias pick the book for her. Why was she feeling like that for a man who had clearly told her that she meant nothing to him? Why was she caring so much?

Had Lysandra been there she would have told her to drop the grumpy guy and take the nice one.

She stretched and gave Elias a little peck on the cheek “Thank you. They are perfect. Now I just need some pencils for the colouring book.”

“That, we can fix easily.” Elias went around the car and opened the other door for her “Hop in.”

Aelin looked at him puzzled “I thought we were staying in town.”

“No way, there is still so much for you to see.”

“I am in a Tesla.” She commented ecstatic and noticed Elias grinning. “I don’t have car. In London it’s a nightmare. Traffic is horrendous and parking near my house is just non existent. Luckily the tube takes me to work easily.”

“On the islands the only traffic jam you experience is cattle, sheep and the annoying tourists driving motorhomes where they shouldn’t and going at a slow pace because they have to take a photo of every single piece of grass.”

Aelin laughed “I got stuck in the middle of a flock of sheep the other day. I was along the Golden Road.”

“Well, that was your baptism of fire and you passed it.”

Half an hour later they were crossing a bridge. Elias explained to her that they were heading for Great Bernera. As soon as they cleared the bridge he pulled over and parked the car at the small picnic area. She got out and stood immobile for a moment to take in the beauty of the landscape.all around her. Then Elias grabbed her hand and he pulled toward the left. She looked up and she noticed some standing stones and she felt giddy.

“Come on.”

They climbed the short path and they reached the stones.

Aelin went to hug them and she made Elias laugh out loud “that is a very unusual reaction.” Then he took his phone and took a photo “Now I can bribe you until eternity.”

Aelin dismissed him with a rude gesture and kept hugging the stone.

“You are hugging Callanish VIII.”

Aelin gasped in surprise.

“This place is quite peculiar. It is a semi circle and not a full circle and according to the archaeologists it was never a full circle. No one knows what it was for. However, according to the local folklore, due to its strange configuration and location, on a calm winter day when the sun is low a strange experience might occur. If you walk between the tall stone and the water a double shadow is cast on the stone. One shadow is produced by the sun and the other by the sun’s reflection on the water.” He explained, his gaze fixed on the horizon.

“I tried plenty of times but no luck.”

He walked behind her and tugged her to his chest, leaning his chin on her shoulder. Elias then took her hand and pointed “There,” he said “over there you have Callanish. The main site.”

She leaned against his hard chest and took comfort in the nice feeling.

“That is so awesome.”

“I am pretty sure your book will have a part about these stones.” His breath was gentle against her ear and she shivered in pleasure at the feeling.

“Let’s go. We haven’t reached our final destination yet.” He moved away and for a brief second she missed the warmth of his body against hers.

They got back in the car and they drove for a bit longer. The road was narrow but Elias drove with the experience of a local and she felt pretty safe.

They finally reached a parking area and she was ready to get out again.

“The islands are quite amazing for their historical sites.” He started, offering his hand to her.

She took it and he smiled tenderly. His thumb gently brushing the top of her hand.

“Are you ready for a visit to the iron age?”

They walked in silence for a short stretch along the wall of a cemetery and then she noticed the Iron Age house. Elias paid the pound to get into the house, but she was more interested in the stunning beach she had spotted at the end of the path. Once out of the house she took running toward the beach and Elias followed until he grabbed at her waist “You ungrateful witch. I am showing you an historical site and all you care is the beach.”

Aelin laughed and turned to him, their faces dangerously close “Sorry, but the beach looks soooooo amazing”

Elias let her go and playfully pushed her away “Go. Have fun.”

She smiled at him and walked toward the beach, removed her shoes and walked in the water. That had become her ritual.

Bosta beach was another gem. A hidden one, it looked like.

Elias joined her in the water and stood beside her, their arms touching “When I was young, my brother and I used to come here and kayak. See the islands in front of us?” He pointed and Aelin nodded “That is little Bernera. The only way to get there is by boat. On the the side there is a beach that is something out of this world. Untouched. Pristine. With waters of colours so bright that they might not be real.”

She turned to him and looked at Elias in the eyes. And they were bright, full of joy

“You have a childish streak.” He tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“No, that came out wrong. What I meant is that you seem to tackle life with the same joy a kid does. The way you hugged the stone, or how you run just now or your face when you saw the books. It’s contagious.” With a hand he caressed her face.

She should pull away and break that contact, but she couldn’t because she realised she missed it. So in the end she leaned into his touch, basking in the feeling of his hand on her cheek.

“Tha thu bóidheach…” he whispered “You are beautiful.” He repeated in English.

Aelin broke the contact and went to sit down on the sand. She needed a moment to collect herself. To unravel the set of conflicted emotions battling inside her.

In front of her there was Elias. A wonderful man who seemed quite keen to be in her company. Who was intelligent and fascinating and sweet. A man capable of making her heart race madly. He was perfect. He was handsome. Unbelievably so. And then there was Rowan. Who was… maddening. They were nothing and no chance of their status changing anytime soon.

She sighed.

Elias sat beside her “did I do something wrong?” His blue eyes fixed on her “What I said and did… sorry if it made you uncomfortable.”

Aelin shook her head. He was considerate and with his face mere centimetres from hers she realised she just wanted to kiss him.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” she explained and wondered if it was the time to open up to someone else. But Maeve’s word replayed in her head. You can help each other. He is stuck too. She wanted to open up to Rowan. According to Maeve he was suffering for something too. She wanted him to open up to her. She knew it felt wrong. She could not open up to Elias. That was something that belonged to Rowan. Of that she was sure.

“I haven’t done this in a while.”

“Are you seriously telling me that in the whole of London there is not a single man who’d consider himself lucky to have you?”

“I can be a handful.”

“My brother has three kids under the age of ten. I can handle handful. Believe me.”

Aelin laughed and leaned her head on his shoulder “And why a guy like you is single?”

“The missus had a side thing with her boss. They eloped. She got pregnant and now she lives the grand life in Edinburgh with the money she got from the divorce and got stuck with the kid. He was rich. Filthy rich and she just wiped him clean.”

“And you were married to her?”

“Oh yeah. I was young and stupid. We lasted two years.”

“Probably you didn’t earn enough big bucks.”

Elias laughed genuinely “Aye, I was a poor nobody compared to her second husband.”

“Her loss,” Aelin added.

He tuned his head surprised by that remark. His face inched closer and hesitated for a second, then finally kissed her

Aelin resisted him for a moment, but then she melted in the kiss. His lips were soft. The kiss started gentle but then it got harder and she could feel need seeping from it.

His hands went to her back and slowly pushed her on the sand on her back. Aelin run her hands in his hair and pulled him closer.

She nibbled his lower lip and the sound he made awoke something at her core. His hands slid to her sides and he traced the length of her body. She closed her eyes and froze. A pair of green eyes appeared in her vision. Rowan’s face floated in front of her and she froze. She sat up quickly.

“Not on the beach near a tourist attraction.” She stood and patted the sand away from her clothes using it as an excuse to put some distance between them.

Slowly she gathered the courage to look at him and she saw hurt in his blue eyes.

“You are right. Being arrested for sex in public is not in my today’s plan.” And the dimples came back.

“I am sorry I…” she fumbled.

He got closer and kissed tenderly on her lips “No need to apologise.” Then he patted her hair. “You are covered in sand.”

In silence they walked back to the car and even on the journey home she struggled to say more than a few words. She held her book on her legs and kept thinking at the message inside and how she will face Rowan the next day.

“I can drop you off at your place.”

“No, the car park is fine. It’s a nice evening. I don’t mind the stroll.”

“Ok, mo charaid.”

Aelin leaned forward and kissed him “Thank you for the books and for today. I had so much fun.”

“Me too,” he kissed her back.

Aelin broke the kiss and left the car. He got out and leaned on the roof “Text me.”

“I will do, mo charaid”

Elias laughed “you are so sexy when you try to speak Gaelic.”

Aelin blew him a kiss and walked away.

When she was almost home she leaned against the small wall separating the road from the marina and looked toward the town. To the spot where Rowan’s shop was.

And wondered what he was doing.

Wondered if he missed her as well.

#rowaelin #rowanwhitethorn #aelin galythinius #rowan x aelin #aedion x lysandra #lysandra #fanfic #throneofglassseries #fluff #angst

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itsmypeach13 · 4 years ago

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[Please welcome my first ever fanfic series chapter 1🤭The story contains of f/f relationships, centres around Asassins Creed Valhalla women female Eivor, Soma Jarlskona(the Bear Heart is my own nickname I gave her will be often used 😁), Randvi, Valka and other fictional characters. It is for +18 readership as it may contain explicit language, drinking, sexual intercourses, fighting in battles. Please bare these in mind before reading.]

TALES OF THE BEAR-HEART:SOMA

CHAPTER I.

A Letter from the Wolf-Kissed

Soma's POV:

I opened my eyes swiftly , my head was heavy with the thoughts swirling inside after a sleepless night. A warming beam of light brightened my room as the sun was rising slowly outside. I turned to my side and looked at the empty side of the bed. I ran my fingers slowly on the cold pillow and let out a sigh. It doesn't matter how many girls of Gratenbridgeshire offered themselves to me , this place belongs to Eivor. Well, only in my dreams..she haunts me like a she-wolf hunrgry to taste meat and blood. And I would always face this wolf, giving in and letting my walls down for her, but this world was apart from reality.

I had a jarldom to rule and protect my people, today was no different either. Just when I finished dressing up I heard knocking on the door like a bear would rant at me from outside.

'Splendid morning Soma, I know you had fun with that blonde amazon last night, I came to make sure we arrive on time , so get your ass out here.'- Revna greeted me with her raspy voice. She was my right hand in ruling the town , my finest warrior and my best friend in one tall, brunette woman. She was even taller then Eivor and always carried two hammers on her sides. Her weapons put many fine men in the grave , Revna was a beast on the battlefield, but a big hearted puppy to her loved ones. She and I grew closer after Birna left us, I needed somebody to trust.

'You think yourself a seeress of all.I haven't slept a bit, even without any ladies invited in my bed-I stepped out of the door grinning, and placed my hand on her shoulder.' Don't worry my friend, Cheolbert must be still sleeping like a baby.

We both headed to the longhouse as Cheolbert arrived late at night and asked an assemby in the morning. I didn't know what was it about, so I felt curious to know. I peaked towards the main entrance seeing jarls arriving on horseback from the neighbouring jarldoms. It must be either a wedding or war ahead of us, I thought to myself.

'What is on your mind Soma? You seem a bit worn-out this morning.-Revna questioned me by gently pushing my right arm. I didn't want to tell her the truth , that Eivor was the cause of my insomnia.

'Everything is fine Revna , it was full moon yesterday and you know well I can't sleep when it comes'-I assured my shield maiden. 'We have a long day ahead of us, I count on you if we have to fight side by side again.'

Revna silently nodded and hurried to the front of the assembly. The longhouse was filled with people, curious eyes were glued to Cheolbert who stepped in , wearing a glorious red and white cloak and black learher tunic. Our eyes met and he signalled me he wanted to speak in private at the side first.

We both went to the map room, his blue eyes were narrow and mysterious. I gave him a welcoming hug.

'Cheolbert my dear friend, I swear you've grown a feet since we last met.'-I teased.

' Soma, good to meet again, I wish the circumstances were different.'

'What happened? '-I grew impatient and started walking up and down.

'Eivor told me to hand over this letter to you first'.-he held out a letter with a raven seal. I turned my back so that he can't see my face, and I felt the world around me spin. Is she in trouble? Is she alright?

Dear Soma,

I write you in haste now, as your rotten friend Brina , whom you kept so close to your heart as a pet has betrayed all of us. She is a serpent who slyly earned your trust. She got married to Ivarr the Boneless and they sworn revenge on both Ravensthorpe and Gratenbridgeshire. Ivarr wants to be king of this continent...son is like farher. Their fleet is now close to us, we must unite our men and act swiftly. Please come as fast as you can to Ravensthorpe. I already informed your neighbours, I sent Cheolbert to gather all the men at Gratenbridgeshire.

When we win there will be a cause of celebration I sware to you dear. With all my thanks.

Eivor the Wolf-Kissed

My heart grew heavy with disappointment and sadness over hearing what Birna brought for our people. After all I had two friends betray me, I will cut the throat of this traitor too I swore to myself.

I felt blood rush to my cheeks as the word 'dear' was ringing like a bell in my head. The wolf could play mind games with me even if she wasn't here.

The assemby was quick, I told my people to gather every man to fight for the woman who made this place a safe home for us. I climbed up to my black mare after putting on my silver and blue gear and dictated a rushed tempo for our horses on the way to Ravensthorpe, so our army arrived the same afternoon. I held my back tightly and confident in my straddle to show people a firm leader. As we rode closer to the gates a flood of excitement gripped my stomach. It was funny because I feared not the bloodshed of war or heavy strikes of axes, but seeing the deep blue eyes of Eivor again. Too afraid what I would see in the reflection of her endless iris. Just when I was confident enough to let the idea of the two of us together go , I knew it well the depth of her eyes will eat me alive again. Somehow Freya threads our paths in the same direction? Why does she condemned me to suffering?

***

As I got off my mare at the entrance of the longhouse Valka humbly walked up to me and greeted with a tusk of her best mead. It was a secret recipe I was obsessed with so Eivor sometimes sent a few barrells to me. Valka made the sweet liquid with a hint of star anise and petals of orange jasmine.

'Now that you are finally here the universe is balanced'- she winked handing over the mead. I had no idea what she mean by that, but I gratefully accepted and took a long shot.

'Thanks Valka, I am happy to see my favourite seeress. -I winked at her and slightly raised my tusk.' May this give me strength and fortune on the battlefield.

'Freya will have her hand on your shoulder , she has plans with you.'

This conversation made me suspicious Valka had a vision of the future and it seems I am the part of it. Anyhow, I was sure of one thing, my duty is to be here and help.

'I can't wait to fulfill my destiny, my friend. Whatever the future holds I am ready to take it in.'

In that moment Eivor rushed out of the longhouse seeming quite annoyed with something her rough hands forming into fists. She looked astonishing, deadly in her black and gold armor, the axe of her father as a token swagged on her side. Even if it was a brief moment, I saw her eyes widened at the sight of me, her look pierced into my soul when she smirked at me. She was saying without words that she was grateful that I came and trusted me, this filled my heart with warmth and my chest swelled.

'Dear Soma' -she spoke with her deep, raspy voice that was stealing my sanity every time I heard her close.'I knew you would come and aid us in the moment of need.'-she took my right hand for a moment then let it fall back.

'You know I'll always be there like a true friend. It's my pleasure.-Eivor's smile ended at the word friend, but people around us were staring and we weren't more than that behind their backs either.

To cut off our slightly awkward meeting, Randvi stormed out of the wooden bulding her cheeks burning, and arms folded. She looked like a child who didn't get the piece of cake. I wondered what happened between those two in there. In the second she caught a glipse of me and Eivor standing quite close , Randvi joined between us and politely thanked me to bring a huge force here. She was a perfect diplomat and an impeccable service around me after that.She arranged a dinner for only the leaders and jarls to lay out the plan for tomorrow's battle. We decided to surprise Birna and Ivarr and hide our best archers in the woods until they ride towards the gates. I must admit I can see now why Eivor loves Randvi. The copper-haired woman was not only beautiful with soft features, but intelligent in a way that humiliated the man leaders here.

It felt extremely hard to look at Randvi and listen to the details as I felt my helpless jealousy hit me like a wave. It angered me how Eivor drunk every word she uttered her eyes sometimes wandered lover than Randvi's lips.

After dinner I wanted to retreat to my tent as soon as possible , the sight of Eivor and Randvi in the same room sickened me. Before I could do that Randvi came to me with a letter.

'Soma, wait. Let me give this letter to you.' she instructed quickly.

'Who is it from?'-I enquired furrowing my brows with second guessing.

'It's uh..from me actually...-she hesitated then blurted out' there are certain things you better read than hear me say it out loud.'

This fucking woman had guts to speak to me like that..I knew it was intently personal. She must have heard rumors of Eivor's visits to me sometimes, but hardly knew the wolf was only hers not mine for a single bit.

'How thoughtful of you. The rumors are true , you really have balls in spite of being a shieldmaid. I will read your bedtime story later, now if you excuse me.' Randvi 0-Soma 1. Every inch of me wanted to tear off she seal and read it right away but I waited until I was left alone in the provacy of my tent.

Jarl Soma,

Please let me be honest and plain with you. Eivor's invite here was merely political. I know more than anyone how she behaves around women to get what she wants. I have firsthand experience in that. But you have to know Eivor doesn't look at you like a woman, she told me she sees a long lost older sister in you. If I were you, I would think twice what I let people gossip about and make a fool of myself.

Randvi

In the second I finished reading I crumpled the piece of paper and thowed behind my back. Her words were agressive and protective just like a female wolf and I could feel Randvi's bite marks on my neck.

I decided not to believe anything until I asked Eivor.. oh but how could I do that? The wolf would realise I cared about her in a different way, and I couldn't let that happen until she gives me something. A flickering sign in the hollowing darkness I am living in.

I decided to visit Valka and have drinks together, I desperately needed somebody to keep my mind of this mess I became part of.

***

The little hut stood with watchful eyes on the slight hill close to the village. There were died flowers hanged outside and a sweet smoky and flowery scent filled my nostrils. As I get close I recognized Valka now wearing a red gown with hood on her head. She looked like Freya preparing a love potion as she was pouring something in a tusk and put some petals on the top.

'Good Evening Valka.. I hope you don't mind my late night visit. I just needed some of your special mead I guess and my feet brought me here' I stared to her fiery reddish brow eyes. She had neat tattos on her face forming dots and gentle marks on her smooth skin.

'I knew you would come tonight, so I prepared this mead with some herbs that will rock you in a pleasant slumber.'she handed over the tusk , the liquid looked like shiny rubies.

'How is that you always know better what I need than myself?-I smirked at her and found comforting in her eyes.

'A gift from the gods my lady-her eyes had a mysterious spark in them, a little dimple formed on her face from smiling.

'Come sit with me inside, it is getting cold out here.'

I nodded and followed the seeress into the firm hut, theought the entrance ornamented with animal bones and more dried flowers.

There was a freshly lit fire inside warming up my limbs and cheeks. It also colored the space with wrath orange that played on our faces like the sunset.

'Now tell me, what makes your heart heavy?'-she asked with care.

'I think I feel a bond to Eivor that is irrational and grows between us every time we meet. It is like an invisible string pulls me towards her maybe it's the wish of the Gods.-I sipped bitterly in the mead , a slight soothing feeling ran through my body.

'We both know our fate is inevitable, so you have to show what's inside your heart first.' -Valka looked deeply in my eyes. -You are Soma, our fearless Bear warrior sent by Freya to our aid and to fight on Eivor's side.

'Randvi told me Eivor loves me with a sisterly care.. I image she is right., look at her, she could have anybody.

'Don't listen to Randvi , she is hurt and trapped in her own feeling of helplessness. If she can't have Eivor accepted by the public, then nobody can'-Valka nodded and squuezed my hand.

'I just can't trust people anymore Valka. My love towards people turned into a bitter storm inside me.-Except for Revna, I couldn't trust a soul, not even Eivor. She didn't reveal her hidden side to me.

'Just talk to her in the morning, it will ease your turmoil Soma.-she winked and headed to bed. To my utter surprise she started to undress in front of my sleepy eyes, they popped in surprise no matter the mead.

Valka's toned back was shining under the wrath orange fireligt, she revealed her impeccably and naked body.

'Good night Valka, I have to get some sleep now. Thank...you...for uh.. everything!' I mumbled to her and hurried to my hut until I was able to stand still. Before sleep my head was filled with Eivor's piercing eyes and... I was a bit surprised but Valka's slender back flashed through as well. Damn, this woman was also fine. Like all women!

My eyelids felt to heavy , soon enough I was fast asleep like a newborn baby.

#fanfiction #eivor #ac eivor #eivor wolfkissed #female eivor #ac valhalla #lady eivor #assassin's creed valhalla #eivor wolfsmal #ac soma #somabearheart #soma jarlskona #eivor x soma #ac valhalla fanfic

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 4 years ago

Text

Eccentricity [Chapter 11: You Don’t Come Around No More]

A/N: I apologize profusely for the long wait. Thank you all so, so, so much for your support. Every single reblog, message, comment, emotional rant, and/or screech of despair makes my day, and I couldn’t do this without you. 💜 Only THREE more chapters left!!!

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. Potentially a better love story than Twilight.

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: “More To Life Than Baseball” by Petey.

Chapter Warnings: Language, angsttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt.

Word Count: 7.5k.

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Taglist: @queen-turtle-boiii @bramblesforbreakfast @maggieroseevans @culturefiendtrashqueen @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark @escabell @im-an-adult-ish @queenlover05 @someforeigntragedy @imtheinvisiblequeen @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhyee @deacyblues @tensecondvacation @brianssixpence @some-major-ishues @haileymorelikestupid @youngpastafanmug @simonedk

The Rain

I wish I felt empty.

I’m supposed to feel empty, right? I’m supposed to feel steeped in grey, oceanic misery; I’m supposed to dip in and out of depressive naps all day and sob delicately over creased photos and fading, wistful memories. I always envisioned heartbreak as a soft and inherently feminine sort of affliction: the hems of nightgowns and bathrobes sweeping along hardwood floors, Kleenex boxes and concave couch cushions, weepy phone calls to friends and aunts and mothers, Queen Victoria wearing black for the rest of her life after Prince Albert’s death, Mary Todd Lincoln sinking into dark and hushed obscurity. Women, hollowed out by despair, cross the history of the earth like lines of latitude.

I don’t feel empty at all. I don’t even feel sad. I feel razored by sharp, red, ceaseless anxiety. I am consumed by thoughts of what I did wrong, what I said that started the wheels of doubt spinning in his mind, if he had known how it would end from the start. I dream of white, clawed hands dragging me down through cold waves. I hear words scream to me as I toss at night in my suddenly too-spacious bed, words that now hit me like knuckles to the gut: Shhh, hey, it’s just me, don’t get up, as Joe slipped beneath the Arizonan blankets, wrapped an arm around my waist, kissed my collarbone as I tumbled back into sleep; I love you to death, as his Subaru idled in Charlie’s driveway; Baby Swan, listen to me, nothing is supposed to hurt, okay, so if anything hurts, ever, at all, you tell me and we stop, deal? as we stood in the doorway of our hotel room at the Four Seasons in Chicago. And now...and now...

And now everything fucking hurts.

It doesn’t make any sense; and yet it does. Look at him. Look at me.

The Polaroid photo from Homecoming was still taped to the top of my full-length mirror. I peeled it free like a layer of translucent, friable reptilian skin, tore it straight down the center, burned both halves over a brand new three-wicked, lemon-scented Bath And Body Works candle—a gift from Renee and Paul—and closed my eyes like a child casting a wish over her birthday cake like a spell. I wished for my memories to vanish with the photograph. I wished to get hit by a truck and wake up in the hospital with no recollection of the past two and a half months. I wanted the Lees to dissolve into distant, enigmatic mystery; I wanted to join the rest of Forks in believing that they were nothing more than bewildering and yet harmless freaks, barely worth noticing, one of those glitches of the matrix that were better off ignored like liminal seconds of déjà vu. I wished to carve out every part of myself that they had ever touched.

And Joe’s voice came rushing back from where we stood by that star-lit fountain outside the Church of Saint Lawrence, accompanied by falling raindrops and a crooked grin: I can make wishes come true.

The three tiny flames flickered in the breeze that sighed through my open window. The bright, citrusy scent of the candle reminded me of Lucy. I couldn’t fucking win. What else is new?

I turned back to the mirror. I flinched when my gaze snagged on my reflection: bloodshot-eyed, swollen-faced, utterly unbeautiful, restless like a caged animal. Look at him. Look at me.

I ripped the last memento off the mirror—Official Citation!! No More Sad Spaghetti!!—and watched the yellow square of paper catch fire, curl up around the edges, become unrecognizable, turn to ash. And I wished over and over again, like a poem, like a prayer: Let me forget, oh god please let me forget.

Charlie keeps asking if I’m okay. The answer, of course, is no; but I can’t tell him that. So I wear a serene smile like clip-on fangs, a cheap polyester cloak, crimson smudges of lipstick like trails of spilled blood down the side of my neck. Every day is Halloween for me now. I dress up as someone who isn’t haunted, who hasn’t become a ghost.

And when Charlie turns up the World Series or I’d Do Anything For Love on his geriatric, staticky kitchen radio—the same radio he’s had since my mother was the one joining him for daybreak coffee and Pop-Tarts—I choke back tears like dragonfire.

Missing In Action (Revisited)

Joe wasn’t here. Neither was Ben.

Lucy, Rami, and Scarlett were sipping cups of tea at the Lees’ usual table, their eyes downcast, their voices low and murmuring, their pristine lunches neglected. Lucy and Rami were dressed in matching charcoal grey turtleneck sweaters; Scarlett had come from Fencing Club and was wearing royal purple yoga pants and a black tank top, her duffle bag of gear on the floor by her sneakered feet. Her hair was in a long fishtail braid. Archer hadn’t mentioned her since Joe broke up with me. That either meant that it was going blissfully and he didn’t want to injure me further, or that Scarlett had ended things as well.

Since Joe broke up with me. That sounds so fucking pedestrian.

I stared at the three present Lees, almost leered, commanding them to see me, to acknowledge me, to admit that I had once meant something to them, that this hadn’t all been some transitory delusion to fill the cavernous void of losing my home, my life as I knew it in Arizona. They took no notice whatsoever.

Jess kicked me beneath the lunch table. My attention snapped back to her.

“Sorry, what?”

“You want to go shopping with me and Angela tonight?” Jessica’s hands were folded just beneath her chin, her voice gentle, her eyes large and sympathetic and watery. This was her version of being supportive. I appreciated it...in a perpetually tormented and preoccupied sort of way.

“No thanks.” I forked my cold, sauceless spaghetti listlessly. I’d forgotten to pack a lunch. I didn’t have an appetite anyway. I had deleted the GrubHub app from my iPhone and had no intention of using it ever again in my comparatively short and calamitous human life.

“You could come to temple this weekend,” Jessica pressed.

“Uh.” Mingling with a churchful of sociable, wholesome, marriage-obsessed adolescent Mormons sounded like the absolute last thing I’d want to spend my evening doing. “That’s a really generous offer, but I’ll pass.”

“Well you have to do something,” Angela said. “You can’t just sit in your bedroom alone all weekend and stare at the wall and wallow in self-pity.”

We’ll see about that. I turned to Jess. “How’s Vodka Boy from your Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class? Did he ever reappear? What’s his name again, Elmo? Ellington? El Chapo?”

“Ellsworth.” She frowned as she slurped her patron-drink-of-Mormons Sprite. “And no, he definitely failed out or overdosed or something, because he never came back.”

“Tragic,” I noted.

“But I’m pretty sure Mike’s coming over this weekend, so we’ll see if I can get some Netflix and chill action going.”

“Jess,” Angela chastised, widening her eyes and nodding to me subtly (but not quite subtly enough). No talking about getting lucky in front of the heartbroken single loser, that look said.

“I think I can be emotionally supportive without taking a goddamn vow of chastity, Angela!” Jessica hurled back.

“I gotta go.” I stood, threw on my backpack, discarded my nearly untouched lunch.

“You’ve barely eaten anything!” Angela protested. “You’ve barely eaten for a week!”

“I’ll live.” I picked my umbrella up off the slippery tile floor—peppered with muddy shoeprints and pearlescent drops of water fallen from coats and limp, sopping locks of hair—and headed out into the pouring rain. I hated the rain. I hated it. Maybe I had forgotten that for a while, but it all came hurtling back now like a hurricane, like a hand cracking across my face. I ached for the desert, for blatant and unapologetic heat, for palm trees and cacti and naked stars in the night sky. I had been researching marine biology graduate programs in the Southwest. There were good ones at UC San Diego, UC Santa Barbara, Texas A&M, the University of Southern California, UCLA. I would miss Charlie and Archer—and maybe Jessica and Angela on occasion—and absolutely nothing else about Forks. At least, that’s what I promised myself.

This is a no-giving-a-fuck-about-Lee-boys zone, I thought morosely.

Ben was brooding at our table in Professor Belvin’s classroom. It was the first time he’d shown up to Chemistry since that day Joe met me on the beach at La Push, since the place I’d once occupied in his universe had closed like a wound. I took my seat beside Ben. The window was shut today, the downpour outside torrential. Ben recoiled, just enough for me to notice; he was wearing his oversized black hoodie and practicing his Welsh, his handwriting messy and unbalanced.

“You could have warned me,” I said.

Ben didn’t glance up from his notebook. “Would that have made it any easier?”

“No,” I realized in defeat. I guess it wouldn’t have. I pulled my own notebook, my favorite pen, and a can of Diet Coke out of my backpack.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Ben said. “You really need to know that. It had nothing to do with you. And none of us are happy with the current situation. None of us.”

None of them. That included Joe. “Interestingly, that didn’t stop him from creating it.”

Ben was thoughtful, debating his next words. “We’re probably going to be moving soon.”

“What?” I startled; my turquoise blue pen dropped out of my grasp and rolled across the table. Ben snatched it up and returned it to me. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“And what, just redo this whole college thing?”

Ben shrugged. “We’ll probably start our junior years over again. Gwil will say there was some horrible family tragedy and we needed a few semesters off. I could use the extra time to figure out Calc anyway. Parametric equations make me want to kill myself.”

I just stared at him. It didn’t make any sense. “But...why would the whole family leave Forks? Because of me? One pathetic, aggrieved human? Do you all pack up and relocate every time Joe fucks and dumps someone? That must be exhausting.”

“It’s better for everyone if we get some distance. Put more space between our world and yours.”

“But...” I tried to imagine never seeing any of them again: no Mercy humming merrily as she tossed handfuls of homegrown carrots to the alpacas, no Dr. Lee dabbing away my blood with an ageless sort of patience, no Scarlett or Lucy or Rami, no brief glimpses of Joe as he avoided me in the campus library. It’s exactly what I wanted; and yet it wasn’t. It so, so, so, so wasn’t. It keeps getting worse. How is that possible? My voice was flimsy and quivering, absolutely pitiful. Disgustingly pitiful. “Who will be my lab partner?”

Ben peered over at me with wide, confused green eyes. And then—gingerly, awkwardly, like holding an acquaintance’s baby for the first time—he laid his hand over mine. “I’ll miss you too.”

Professor Belvin lectured about coordinate covalent bonds. I didn’t absorb a word. I conjugated Italian verbs with my turquoise blue pen, sketched disordered whirlpools of ink, tried not to think about whether this was my last-ever Chemistry class with Ben, whether it was my last-ever weekend sharing Forks with the Lees. Those rageful, frantic thoughts were back. What did I do wrong? What didn’t I do right? Why did he have to leave?

My nomadic gaze caught on a flier on the wall next to our misted window. I had assumed it was a leaflet for some club or protest or seasonal dance that I would definitely not attend, but it wasn’t. It was a missing poster.

Have you seen this student? the flier asked in bold, businesslike black font. It was urgent, but not quite despairing; not yet, anyway. I could hear a Dean of Student Affairs cajoling some affluent, strings-of-pearls-adorned mother over the phone: Yes ma’am, you have my full attention and I can assure you that we’re very concerned, but I’m sure it’s all just a misunderstanding...he’s probably gone backpacking or sailing with some friends and forgotten to call home. You know how college students can be. Beneath a large photo of a grinning blond kid—pink polo, flushed cheeks, clever crop job to nix a can of Natty Light clutched in one fist—was a name: Ellsworth Jonathan Griffin.

Ellsworth, I thought, my stomach plummeting. The guy from Jessica’s Indigenous Peoples of the Arctic class. He hadn’t failed out. He was missing. Missing like a 20/20 episode or a true crime podcast, missing like the pregnant stillness before a murder is confessed in some glaringly florescent-lit interrogation room, before a distended and bloodless corpse washes up on shore.

I turned to Ben. He noticed me eventually, crinkled his brow, shrugged in that way that seemed so petulant if you didn’t know him well enough to not be offended.

I pointed to the flier and raised my eyebrows. Ben twisted around in his chair to look. Then he sighed, scribbled a sentence in the corner of a piece of notebook paper, tore it free, and slid it across the table.

Ben’s note read, in atrocious penmanship: Are you seriously asking me if I ate that guy?

Maybe, I wrote back after a moment’s hesitation. Maybe that wasn’t exactly what I was asking; maybe I just wondered if he knew anything about it.

In either case, Ben’s reply was swift and resounding, and underlined three times: No.

Sorry, I wrote, abruptly remorseful. I am a jerk. And I added a frowny face for good measure. Ben chuckled when he saw it, shook his head, gave me a drawn little smirk. His words tiptoed around in my skull, leaving searing imprints like footprints in the sand. I’ll miss you too.

I have to forget about them. I drummed my turquoise blue pen against my notebook as Professor Belvin drew families of molecules on the whiteboard with squealing dry erase markers. I have to find a way to make myself forget.

Jessica was waiting for me in the hallway after class. It was part of her convince-Baby-Swan-not-to-jump-off-a-cliff initiative. “Hey.”

“Okay,” I told her with steely resolve. “I’m ready for you to set me up with one of those guys from your church or temple or whatever. I’m ready to be a nice wholesome wife, pop out like six kids, learn how to scrapbook, give up caffeine and horror movies, do the whole white picket fence thing. Sign me up.”

Jessica blinked at me. There were flecks of fallen mascara on her cheekbones like ashes. “What?”

“You’re a Mormon, right?”

“Girl, I’m not a Mormon,” Jessica said, puzzled. “I’m a witch.”

Lucille

I found Joe where he usually was these days: sprawled on the sofa, engulfed in the same blue Snuggie he’d been wearing for thirty-six uninterrupted hours, gazing catatonically at the big-screen tv. A 90 Day Fiancé marathon was on. Some rodentish guy named Colt was apologizing to his gorgeous, aspiring-green-card-holding Brazilian love interest for calling the cops on her during their last screaming match. He was also apologizing for the fact that they lived in a two-bedroom apartment with his mother. I didn’t need clairvoyance to see where their future was headed.

“Hey,” Ben said when he spotted me. He was sitting next to Joe and occasionally tried to shove pieces of popcorn into his mouth, which Joe accepted passively like coins plinked into a gumball machine. Ben had been his shadow for the past week; he was perhaps the best equipped of us to understand this degree of melancholy, of hopelessness.

“Ciao.” And then, to Joe: “How are you?”

“Terrible,” he replied, not tearing his eyes from the tv.

“I figured.” I squeezed between them on the couch, curled up next to Joe, rested my chin on his shoulder. He ignored me completely. I could hear Mercy tapping at her laptop keyboard out in the dining room; she was browsing through Zillow listings in Portland, Buffalo, Pittsburgh, Cleveland. Dear god, please don’t let us end up in fucking Cleveland. “Guess what.”

Joe stared at the tv for a long time before he answered. “What.”

“I had a vision of you. Just now, as I was doing laundry. Crystal clear and very scenic too, I might add.”

“Fascinating,” Joe said flatly.

“What happened in this vision?” Ben asked, far more invested, which I was thankful for.

“It was pretty far away, maybe a year from now. I saw you in the desert at night, under a full moon. There were cacti everywhere. The shadow of the Milky Way was threaded through the sky, and the stars were very bright. I could make out the constellations Pegasus and Cassiopeia. You were filling up a tiny glass bottle with dirt.”

“That’s remarkably helpful,” Joe said.

“It is, a little bit,” I insisted. “It means you get through this. That you have a future. I get nervous when I go too long without a vision of someone in the family. But now I know you’re going to be okay.”

The reflections of the feuding 90 Day Fiancé couples danced in his glassy eyes. “Being alive doesn’t mean you’re okay.”

“That’s dark,” Ben said. “Even I think that’s too dark.” He pushed a handful of popcorn into Joe’s mouth. “Are you gonna hunt at some point or what?”

“No.”

“You’re just gonna sit on this couch and waste away?”

“Yeah.”

“You want me to bring you anything? Grizzly bear? Brown bear? Fuck it, I’ll get you a polar bear if that’s what you want. There’s probably some on the black market. Rami would know.”

“He what?” Mercy called from the kitchen. Her typing had stopped.

“Nothing, Mom!” I shot back.

“I don’t want anything,” Joe said. That was a lie, of course. We all knew what he wanted. Rami couldn’t stand to be around him; the thoughts were relentless, smothering.

I linked my arms around Joe’s neck, laid my head against his chest, sighed deeply and mournfully. “I’m sorry,” I told him. “I know that doesn’t fix anything. But I’m so, so sorry. And I’ll help however I can. We all will.”

And I had accepted that Joe wasn’t going to respond at all when he finally whispered: “I just wish I could forget.”

Cato

My rolling suitcase snagged on the cobblestone driveway. The tiny spinning wheels bashed against concrete as I scaled the front steps. As the taxi pulled away, I dug around in my suit pocket for my keys, found them, unlocked the enormous front door, stepped inside the palace as my suitcase trolled along the marble floor.

“Cato’s back!” Charity announced as she breezed down the nearest staircase, beaming and embracing me. She was a lovely, innately warm woman from Pointe-Noire, Congo; she still wore the silver cross necklace her mother had once given her around her neck. “Did you have a nice flight? Wait, let me check.” She pressed the fingertips of her right hand to my cheek. I felt the memories rush up like blood to a flushed face: the bite of sipped champagne against my tongue, the thin semi-transparent newspaper pages gliding between my fingers, the husky voice of the bearded, bearish naval officer who sat in the seat beside me, the misted silhouette of Vladivostok as it rose up out of the Pacific Ocean. “Uneventful, but pleasant enough. You flew commercial?”

“The jets were otherwise occupied, apparently.” Charity could see things with the predictability and precision that Lucy so often lacked, but only the past. I pushed her hand away. “Was that really necessary?”

“You’re not mad,” Charity declared, confident, impish, helping me shed my suit jacket and draping it over her arm. “You’re never mad.”

She was very nearly correct. “Where are the rest of the kids?”

“In the kitchen. Go say hello, they’ve missed you dreadfully.”

“I know the feeling.” I kicked off my Berlutis, ran a palm over the wiry fur of the Irish Wolfhounds that appeared to greet me before they resumed padding watchfully around the palace, and went to the kitchen, my black socks slipping a bit on the marble floors.

I could hear their voices before I reached the door: laughter, teasing, complaints, requests. The scents of pancakes and cold butter and maple syrup were thick in the air. Charity was one of our four newest recruits, and they all still had that energetic lightness of being human, a youthful enthusiasm, a relative normalness. I spent quite a lot of time with them. It was my job—to help with the transition, to keep them happy, to facilitate the welding of their individual parts into the beastly machine that was the Draghi—but oftentimes it felt more like a reprieve. Some would stay close to me as they matured, others would grow in different directions, like ambitious vines climbing the skeleton of a garden trellis. I usually missed them when they ‘grew up,’ so to speak...although there were exceptions. I had never liked Liesl. I had always liked Ben. I opened the door.

“Ah, you are home!” Ksenia cried from where she stood over the stove, a spatula in her right hand, bouncing excitedly in place on her small bare feet.

“Hey!” Max and Austin called together. They were both sitting with their shoes propped up on the unglamorous kitchen table. There was a massive formal dining room that could accommodate up to twenty-five guests, but we rarely used it.

“Good morning,” I said, aware that I was smiling for the first time in days.

Max groaned as he scrolled through his Google search results on a burner phone. “What the fuck. My name is one of the top five dog names again. I think I’m gonna have to change it.”

I ruffled his long blond hair, stealing a piece of bacon from his plate. Max had grown up a trust fund kid in Perth, Australia. His mother was old money; his father was a professional surfer. “Your name is fine.”

“Really, Kato Kaelin? Is it really? How am I supposed to intimidate people when I have a fucking dog name?”

“So make them call you Maximilian,” offered Ksenia in a heavy Ukrainian accent. She’d only been with us for eight months, but her English was coming along swimmingly. She flipped a massive A-shaped pancake on the sizzling griddle. That one was for Austin.

“Seriously?” Max said. “That is just way too many syllables. They’ll be halfway down the block by the time I’m done introducing myself. ‘Hey, come back mate, I haven’t killed ya yet.’”

“At least you aren’t stuck with a basic-white-boy-circa-1992 name for all of eternity,” said Austin Tyler McInerny, originally of Sheboygan, Wisconsin. He was chomping on a multicolored Fruit Roll-Up, which swung from his mouth like a lizard’s tongue. He’d been working at an ailing skatepark when Larkin found him. He still enjoyed showing off his kickflips, and kept insisting that he was going to teach me how to ollie. I didn’t have the faintest idea what an ollie was.

“Do you want a pancake, Cato?” Ksenia asked, passing Austin his plate and wiping her hands on her pink apron. Her black hair was tied in a high ponytail with a matching rose-colored ribbon. She looked so young. She was so young, actually. Nineteen. And she would be forever.

“No, thank you dear. I’m alright.”

“I like Alaric,” Max decided. “First king of the Visigoths. Alaric is a name fit for a vampire. Creepy, yet dignified. Or maybe Silas. Or Draco.”

Austin shook his head as he swirled a river of viscous maple syrup over his A-shaped pancake. “Definitely not Draco.”

“Why not?”

“Well, the Harry Potter connection is unfortunate. People will hear Draco and think of that obnoxious white-haired kid from the evil snake-people house or whatever.”

“Oh, right,” Max sighed. “Like I said. Alaric would work.”

“So many A-shaped pancakes!” Ksenia poured a K on the griddle for herself.

“It’s good for you,” Austin replied, pointing at her with his fork. “We’re practicing English.”

“Alaric Luther,” Max mused, scrolling through his phone. I didn’t think he’d find that on any list of trendy dog names. “Alaric Lothaire...Alaric Lucian...”

“I like your name, Max,” Larkin said from the doorway. None of us had heard him arrive. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, wearing a deep maroon suit and a ring on every finger, grinning hugely. He was exactly as I remembered him: stunning, captivating, terrifying. The kitchen fell quiet. I could smell Ksenia’s pancake beginning to burn.

At last Max chuckled nervously, pushing soggy pancake hunks around on his plate with his fork, averting his gaze. “Guess I’ll keep it then.”

“I thought I heard you come in,” Larkin told me.

“It’s always a pleasure to be home.”

He nodded out towards the hallway. “Come. Regale me with the stories of your travels.” Then his eyes flicked down to my socks, and he grimaced—slightly, briefly—before turning away. “And find your shoes.”

I followed him through the hallway, the living room, the grand front foyer with the crystal chandelier, into the elevator. Larkin did not speak, but he hummed as we ascended: House Of The Rising Sun.

It hadn’t always been like this. It was difficult for me to pick out the details of what had changed—the tone of his voice, the proportion of wonder and gratitude I associated with him versus fear, the way this palace (or the one in Reykjavik, or Juneau, or Ivalo, or Murmansk, or any of the others) felt when I stepped inside it—but I knew something had. It had begun before Ben left. It was much worse now. Older vampires, in my fairly learned opinion, are something like the stars. They mellow as they age, temper their character flaws, grow wise and patient like Nikolai or Honora or Gwilym Lee; or they rage until they burn away every last atom of humanity, until they destroy themselves and take entire solar systems down with them. Increasingly, I harbored fears that Larkin was a vampire of the latter variety. And we were all his planets.

In his study, Larkin dropped into the chair behind his desk, brought a hand to his forehead, surveyed a disarrayed flurry of papers: letters, notices, deeds and titles, meticulously managed accounts of finances and disciplinary actions. Larkin had a laptop and burner phone, of course, as we all did; but he liked to work in paper as much as possible. That’s how he’d done things for centuries, since long before the name of the inventor of the internet (or harnessed electricity, for that matter) was a whisper on his parents’ lips. The sky outside was clouded and seeping soft rain.

“Things have been busy?” I ventured.

He frowned, gesturing to the cluttered desk. “I’m in purgatory.”

“I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Can I help?”

“The Lancaster coven says they’ll need an extension for their dues. That’s the second year in a row, now it’s not just an exception, it’s a precedent. If you let one coven bend the rules, others will follow. So something will have to be done. Then there’s Stockholm. Anders’ coven has eaten a few too many locals—including the mayor’s favorite niece—and now the city is launching an investigation. Fucking idiots. They’ll probably all have to relocate. There’s some new territory dispute in Lima between Alejandro’s coven and a group of strangers that just came out of the Andes. We’ll have to make their acquaintance, of course. And as if all that weren’t enough, Rigel accidentally fed on a heroin addict and he’s currently detoxing in a cell in the basement. Would you check on him for me? I’m sure your presence will be a...” He waved his hand distractedly, almost dismissively, searching for the words. “A comfort to him.”

“Of course.”

“How are the Lees?”

“Fine. Typical. Gwil’s putting in a lot of hours at the hospital. Rami’s planning to get another law degree. Ben is, uh, adjusting. Slowly, very slowly. He’s not particularly content. But he hasn’t murdered anyone that I’m aware of.”

“How nice.” Now his eyes darted up to catch mine: focused, luminous, unreadable. “Nothing new at all?”

And instantly, I wanted to tell him everything. I forgot why I had ever planned to blunt the girl’s existence, to conceal her talent entirely; I felt her name rising in my throat. And then I remembered again. I’m doing this for Gwil, for Ben.

I pretended to ponder Larkin’s question, as if it was so difficult to remember, as if there was nothing left to sift through but a trunkful of mundane details from the trip like a grandfather’s tattered correspondence and tarnished war relics. That was something an average family might have squirreled away in their attic, I assumed; I’d never met my own grandfather, and he sure as hell wouldn’t have had anything to leave me if I had. “Joe’s got some new girlfriend, but I don’t think it’s serious. I doubt she’ll be around long. You know how Joe is. Scarlett’s seeing someone too, actually. A Quileute kid.”

“Poor boy.” And Larkin grinned like a shark beneath burning eyes. “He’s in for a lifetime of disappointment. Who will ever be able to hold a candle to those memories?”

Larkin had a moderate preoccupation with Scarlett’s beauty, her...tenacity. Her lack of talent was a great disappointment to him, a somehow more egregious fault than Joe or Gwil or Mercy’s. What a shame, Larkin often said. And I believed I knew what came after in his mind, although never aloud: What a partner she could have been.

He was still grinning at me. His expression was hollow, vacuous. A shiver clawed down my spine. He was waiting for something. No, he was searching. I stared back, and I willed for that intangible, contagious harmony I carried around like a wedding ring to hit him like carbon monoxide or bromine: undetected and yet inexorable, knocking him off his path of inquisition.

What does he suspect? What does he already know?

“Anyway,” Larkin continued abruptly, turning his attention back to his paperwork. “I’m glad there’s nothing to worry about in Forks. Liesl will be back in the next few days, Rigel will be ready to work again, I’ll come up with a plan to handle all this and my mood will improve tremendously.”

And where has Liesl been? I almost asked; and then I didn’t. It was a good sign that she was coming home. I had looked for her once while I was in Forks. When I made up my mind to find someone—when that switch flipped in my skull or in the tangle of nerves of my solar plexus or wherever it lived—it wasn’t like poking around on Google Earth: zooming in here, scrolling over there. A goldish trail lit up on the floor, a ‘Yellow Brick Road’ Honora and I sometimes joked, and I followed it. And I had no way of knowing how far that trail might lead. A route heading dead east from the palace might stop in the next town over or continue across the Pacific Ocean; my search might last one day or a hundred. In Forks—as I perched in a soaring western hemlock tree in the forest outside the Lee residence on a cool October evening—Liesl’s trail had led north. North to Vancouver, to Victoria, to Dawson, to Alaska? Who the fuck knew. I was just relieved it hadn’t led to the tree next to mine.

“Well, as always, I’m happy to assist however I can,” I told Larkin. “Just let me know and I’ll be on the next flight out of Vladivostok.”

“I appreciate that, Cato.” He smiled, paternally this time. And then he spun his chair around to peer out the window into the episodic flares of lightning that illuminated great dark clouds like neurons in a celestial brain. I hate thunderstorms. They remind me of South Carolina. “But I think you’ve earned a rest.”

After checking in on Rigel—irritable, frenetic, pacing, and yet predictably pacified somewhat by my visit—I trotted up the main staircase to the second floor of the palace. I found her in our bedroom: sitting at her easel, a paintbrush held in one graceful hand, an image like a photograph on the canvas. I promptly pried off my Berlutis for the second time today and tossed them into the closet.

“Ciao, amore,” I said.

“Ciao!” Honora replied, beaming. Her curly brunette hair was pinned up and away from her face; wayward tendrils spiraled down to brush her bare shoulder blades, the back of her neck. “Just give me five minutes...I have to finish the shadow of this tree...”

There weren’t many in the Draghi who survived the transition from Nikolai’s leadership to Larkin’s, but Honora had. She was gentle to a fault, a hopeless warrior, turned into an immortal on her forty-fourth birthday when Rome was still an empire; and she was without any talents whatsoever, except for one which was useless in combat. Her paintings, drawings, and sculptures adorned every palace the Draghi owned. Each year, Larkin would ask her to paint all of us together, incorporating any new faces, erasing the memories of those who had proven themselves unworthy. One such portrait, I knew, hung in Gwilym Lee’s home office.

I went to the woman I called my wife, laid my palms on her shoulders, leaned down to kiss the top of her head. “Take your time, love.”

“Everything’s alright?” Honora asked, looking hopefully up at me with large, wide-set jade eyes. No, not just hopefully. Trustingly.

“Everything’s alright,” I agreed, not knowing if I believed it.

Shadows And Spells

“He just...just...disappeared?!” Jessica sputtered, scandalized, gaping at me as she held a Styrofoam cup of spiked apple cider in her clasped hands.

We were on a quilt near the outskirts of the sea of beach towels and blankets that circled the bonfire. Women—wearing flowing dresses or robes or tunics or not very much at all—flounced around the flames banging tambourines and reciting chants that I didn’t know the words to. Some carried torches, beacons of heat and light in the darkness. Jessica was wearing a short black shirt, fishnet tights, and a black crop-top turtleneck sweater; I had opted for a bohemian blue dress patterned with stars, an old thrift shop find and the closest thing I owned to Wiccan festivities apparel. I had a cup of hot apple cider as well, enhanced with a generous splash of Captain Morgan, but hadn’t quite conjured up the rebelliousness to drink it yet.

I suddenly recalled Mercy bringing me an endless supply of virgin autumnal sangrias as Joe and I swam in the hot tub on the Lees’ back porch. As soon as you turn twenty-one, you can have the real thing. I frowned, shuddered, took a bitter and burning sip.

“Yeah,” I replied. “He told his roommate he was going to a frat party or something and never showed up and never made it back home either. The parents are blaming the university, the university is insisting he must be off with a girlfriend or on some hipster soul-searching nature adventure or whatever, it’s a mess.”

“Jesus,” she murmured. “What does your dad say?”

“He’s been helping the state police with the investigation. There’s really no evidence of anything. No witnesses, no footprints, no surveillance footage, no handy anonymous tips...”

“No body,” Jessica finished.

“That’s morbid.” I downed the rest of my cider. Was the world already beginning to list like a ship on choppy waves, or was that just my imagination? I guess it would be possible. I’d barely eaten all day.

“You were thinking it.”

“Well, one’s mind does tend to wander towards homicide under such circumstances.”

“It is the season of the dead.” She grinned wickedly, then took my empty cup. “He’s probably fine. I bet he wants to drop out to become a weed farmer and hasn’t worked up the guts to tell his parents yet. You want another?”

“Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll be right back.” Jess rose to balance on black boots with five-inch heels and staggered off to the foldable table piled high with cans and bottles and snacks. I was getting the impression that her Wiccanism was more of a novelty than a spiritual commitment.

The season of the dead. Now that’s VERY morbid.

There were some guys laughing, smoking home-rolled cigarettes, and toasting glasses of red wine on a nearby mandala blanket, bespectacled intellectual types who were probably getting PhDs in Anthropology or Medieval Studies at the University of Washington. One of them—curly-haired, pale-eyed, wearing a sweater vest and a cautious smile—raised his wine glass in my direction. I waved back without much enthusiasm.

“He’s cute, right?” Jessica asked, plopping back down onto our quilt and shoving a full cup of spiked cider into my grasp. She motioned for me to drink. I did. “That’s Sebastian, but he likes to be called Bash. He’s twenty-three and speaks fluent German.”

“Charming.”

“He’s very...uh...gifted. I’m not saying I know from personal experience, but I’ve heard it from a very reliable source. And his parents own a beach house in Monterey. You could go skinny-dipping.”

“In the ocean?” The world was definitely wobbling now. I was warm all over, numbed, fuzzy; it was becoming difficult to picture Joe’s face, to hear his voice. This was good. I kept drinking. “No thanks. Too many sharks. They have great whites down there.”

Jess tossed her long, loose hair and sighed impatiently. “I’m just saying that the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. So you should pursue that.”

“I’ll totally consider it.” I lied. I would not consider it.

She smiled, sympathetically, fondly. “I can’t believe you thought I was a Mormon.”

“I can’t believe I’m out in the Washington wilderness commemorating the Gaelic festival of Samhain, but here we all are.”

Jess glanced over my shoulder. “Oh my god. He’s coming over here.”

“Ugh.” I craned my neck to see. Sebastian—whoops, my mistake, Bash—was approaching. “Please distract him. I don’t want to talk to anyone. Also I’m pretty sure I’m getting drunk and I don’t want to do anything humiliating, like sob uncontrollably about how much I miss my ex-boyfriend.”

“Don’t worry. I gotchu, Baby Swan.”

“Hey Jess,” Bash said, but he was looking at me. He pitched his cigarette off into the trees. What the fuck, who does that?

“Only you can prevent forest fires,” I told him in a woozy, mock-Smokey Bear voice.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Ignore her, she’s drunk,” Jess said quickly. “So what’s up? Come on, sit with me. Keep me toasty. Teach me some German...”

As they chatted and giggled and snuggled closer together—I’m starting to think that Jessica might have been her own reliable source—I studied the forest, watching to make sure the cigarette didn’t begin to smolder in the damp brush. The voices and crackling of the bonfire and sharp ringing of the tambourines faded into one muted, uniform drone. The trees reeled in the haze of the spiked cider; the cool wind moaned through them. And then, for only a second: a glimpse of something impossibly quick, something silvery and reedy and sunless.

What was that?

I blinked. It was gone. I blinked again, staring penetratingly. The swarming heat from the cider evaporated from my skin, my blood. There were goosebumps rising all over me.

What the hell was that?

I remembered how Calawah University students sometimes reacted to Ben: flinching, withdrawing, autonomically fearing him on some primal, evolutionary level. They knew he was a predator. They knew they were prey. It was chillingly similar to what I was feeling now.

I have to get out of here. I have to go home.

I shot to my feet. Oh, wrong move, that was too quick. I swayed, and Jessica reached up to steady me. “Are you—?!”

“I’m fine,” I said. “I gotta go home now.”

“What?! We just got here! Look, chill out, let me get you some vegan samosas or something—”

“No, seriously, I have to go.”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica conceded. “I’ll finish my drink and we’ll call an Uber, alright?”

“Really?” Bash asked, crestfallen.

“I’ll call an Uber,” I told Jess. “You stay, I’ll go.” Maybe she shouldn’t stay, I thought foggily, irrationally. Maybe it’s not safe.

“I can’t let you go alone. I got you drunk and now you’re a mess and if you end up murdered it would be my fault. There are unsolved mysteries going around, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Girl, there’s no way I’m gonna—”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get in the Uber and I’ll stay on until I’m physically inside my house, okay?”

Jessica considered this. Bash leaned in to nibble her ear. I could smell the red wine and nicotine and animalistic lust sweating out of his pores. And unexpectedly, agonizingly: a biting flare, a muscle memory, Joe’s fingertips skimming down the small of my back and his scent like winter nights saturating the capillary beds of my lungs. Stop, stop, stop. “Okay,” Jess agreed at last.

“Awesome.” I was already opening the Uber app on my iPhone.

My driver was a Pacific Northwestern version of Santa Claus: wild grey beard, red flannel, L.L.Bean boots, rambling about his upcoming trip to hunt caribou in British Columbia. I honored my promise to Jessica and kept her on speakerphone for the duration of the twenty-minute drive. I rested my whirling head against the seat, let my eyes dip closed, watched the intermittent streetlights appear and disappear through my eyelids. I let myself into Charlie’s house when I arrived, wished Jessica goodnight (and reminded her not to get pregnant), and meandered clumsily into the kitchen for a glass of water and a cookie dough Pop-Tart to ward off a possible hangover. Charlie was snoring quietly on the living room couch. I watched him for a while, smiling and achingly grateful, before heading upstairs to my bedroom.

My window was wide open; that’s the first thing I noticed. I didn’t remember leaving it that way. I was always neglecting to lock the window, sure—I kept forgetting that there was no one to leave it unlocked for anymore—but I hadn’t left it open when I went to meet Jessica this evening. Icy night air flooded in. The stars were bright and furious in an uncommonly clear sky.

“You trying to give me pneumonia, old man?” I muttered, thinking of Charlie. I tossed my iPhone down onto my bed and crossed the room to close the window. And as it creaked and collided with the sill, I heard my closet door open behind me.

Someone’s here. Someone’s in this room with me.

I turned, very slowly; it felt like it took a lifetime. She was standing in the doorway of my closet, sinuous and white-haired, wearing black leather pants and stiletto heels and a long-sleeved lace blouse the color of blood, the color of her eyes. And she was harrowingly beautiful; not like Lucy or Mercy, not like Scarlett. She was beautiful like a prehistoric jawbone, like a serrated crescent moon, like a blade.

The owl. The goddamn albino owl.

I recognized her immediately. I heard Joe’s words as he introduced each vampire in the immense painting hanging in Dr. Lee’s upstairs office to me, though I desperately didn’t want to: She’s literally Satan, only blonder.

Her name tumbled from my trembling lips. “Liesl.”

“Wonderful, we can skip the introductions.” Her voice was like windchimes, cutting and brisk, with a hint of an Austrian accent like a shadow. Now she was at my bedside and picking up my phone, scrolling through it with lightning-quick and dexterous thumbs. “Hm. No texts from any of the Lees in the past week. So we don’t have to worry about them dropping by, I suppose. Joe got bored with you already, huh?”

“Evidently.” My own voice was brittle, anemic, weak; just like my ineffectual human body.

“That’s quick, even for him. How sad.” She sighed, tucking my iPhone into her red Chanel purse. “There’s a private jet waiting at the Forks Airport. Pack a bag. You have five minutes.”

“Please don’t hurt my dad,” I whispered, scalding tears brimming in my eyes.

“Of course not,” Liesl replied with a savage, saccharine smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

53 notes · View notes

lord-explosion-baku · 5 years ago

Text

Yandere Warlock!Monoma x insecure witch!reader

Warnings: dark themes, yandere, suggestive themes, hinted dubcon scenario, light violence

A/N: THIS WAS RUSHED AS HECK. Like when I say that, the story just moves along really fast and I’m hhhh sorry about it. This is the first thing I’ve ever written for Monoma though! Fun stuff! Also ahhhh I’m not loving the way the reader reacts to how Monoma treats her. I’m so used to writing the reader with a hint of ANGERY BASTARD inside but I figured that if she’s insecure, and wack enough to fix a love potion for someone, this might be natural for someone like her?? Idk dood. I love magic and I am a newt.

“Tell me you love me…”

You’d spent so much of your time yearning for Neito Monoma, wondering if he’d ever give you the time of day. It was wild and unexpected of you to crush so hard for someone as arrogant as that warlock; usually types that constantly had to one up everybody irked the living hell out of you, especially since you were too modest by nature, too nervous to ever give yourself any credit when you’d excel, but Monoma paid you a few compliments here and there. He smiled at you during passing periods and even told you he liked the way you cast your spells. You thought that maybe he was this way with all the other witches, even so, he made you feel less obscure, visible to even a stronger caster such as him. You had no idea that he’d reciprocate your feelings, at least, until it was too late.

It was a simple potion, you couldn’t even call it a love potion. Sure, you may have added some reagents that had similar properties one would put in a love potion, but it wasn’t supposed to be for “love.” You just wanted to be more recognized by him. And woof, after you’d slipped that potion into his morning pumpkin juice, you were for sure recognized.

Things started out fine. You had stumbled upon Monoma in the school gardens, a place he rarely studied but it was one of your main haunts. He was sifting through flowers, making an eclectic bouquet full of different varieties of your flora friends. When he’d caught you staring at him, he gave you a bashful smile that nearly melted your heart.

“I was hoping this would be a surprise,” he said, tying a black ribbon around the bouquet that made the various colors of each petal pop out more. He held the bouquet out to to you and when you took it, his long warm fingers lingered of yours. Clear blue eyes scanned your face, lingering on your lips before you brought the bouquet to your nose to take in the sweetened aroma. “The prettiest flowers for the prettiest girl.”

After that, you spent so much more time with Monoma. He seemed pretty normal to you other than how often you caught him staring at you from across the classroom. He’d leave you cute little notes, if you could call them notes; honestly, they were a bit more like sonnets than anything, and he’d bring you nice gifts and pay you sweet compliments. He made you feel special. You had never known that someone who spent most of his time boasting about his power and shutting everyone else down had such a way with words! He was nearly the perfect boyfriend.

Until he started to get a little more creative with his gift giving. You’d find roses left on your pillow when you returned back to your dorm room after a hard day’s work. Warlocks weren’t permitted to enter the witch’s dorms but somehow Monoma figured out a way past certain enchantments. You thought it was cute that he was willing to break some rules for you. After you told him that you were interested in brewing a certain master level potion that required fairies blood, a super rare rageant that not even Aizawa, your potion’s professor, could get his hands on, Monoma came to you with a box full of four vials of fairies blood. That was a bit excessive. The potion only called for a tiny bit.

Monoma grew more violent towards other warlocks in your life as well. He’d hexed your best friend, Hanta Sero, giving him octopus arms after Sero carelessly threw his arm around your shoulders in the main hall, right in front of Monoma and sometime after Kaminari asked you what you saw in your new, probably too invested boyfriend, Kami’s lips were seen sewn shut for about four hours until a professor figured out how to reverse the curse. Kaminari never told you how it happened, but after everyone who was supposed to be your friend started avoiding you, you kinda figured you knew what was going on.

On top of everything else, he was advancing on your hardcore. You enjoyed the attention, in fact, you craved it, but you weren’t ready to go all the way with him and he was beginning to get really pushy. When you didn’t do whatever he wanted, he’d get frustrated, accusatory, he’d make you feel guilty about things you never did! Claiming that you weren’t faithful to him seemed like his favorite thing to do and the only way to get him to stop was for him to use a strange truth spell on you, one that you were always afraid would work so you’d tell him about the potion you slipped him, though the questions he asked never lead to that. Once he was satisfied with your answers, he’d litter your neck and body in hickeys, little bruising love marks to make sure that if you weren’t committed enough, everyone else knew that you belonged to him.

So you knew you had to confront him.

Walking up the steps of the astronomy tower, your shared secret spot with Monoma, the place you’d use to make out amongst other things without being caught by any school faculty, you gripped the note you’d written out for Monoma tightly in your trembling hands, trying to steady your breath. You knew what you’d done and you had to admit to Monoma that you were responsible for how he was acting. Aizawa always said that you shouldn’t mess around with love when it came to magic. You didn’t think you were when you’d made that potion, but deep down, you knew what you were going for. This was your stupid mistake and you had to right your wrongs. You shoved the note in your pocket and opened the astronomy room door.

Monoma was already there, standing by the extravagant telescope, tapping his foot impatiently. “You’re late,” he said, hands latching onto your hips immediately. “I was beginning to think that I was going to have to fetch you.”

Instantly, he yanked you close so your body pressed flush up against his, and he turned so your back was against the wall. His body felt… warmer than usual.

“I missed you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your neck. Almost instantly his tongue slid out and he licked a strip up your neck to your ear, making you shudder against him. “Don’t make me wait for you again, angel. I can’t stand not seeing you.”

He squeezed your hips before trailing a hand up to the edge of your shirt, thumb gently caressing the skin underneath. “How are you?” He asked, playfulling toying with the elasticity of your skirt.

“Um- I’m okay,” you stammered, catching his hand in yours that only made him smirk as he brought the back of your wrist to his lips.

“Just okay?” He lifted a brow, brushing his lips across your skin. “Better now that I’m here?” He closed his eyes and breathed you in. “Oh!...” you took in another long whiff. “You got a new perfume…”

He brought your arms to hang around his neck, keeping your gaze locked into his. You wondered if he could tell just how guilty you were just by looking at you. “Did my sweet girl have a bad day?”

“I’ve just been… a little stressed, is all.”

“Mmmm, I can tell,” he mused, “lucky for you, I know the perfect way of relieving tension.”

You bit your lip, dreading the blood that undoubtedly rushed to your face. Even if Monoma wasn’t all there, he still made your heart jump, especially when he got himself riled up.

“Sound nice?” He smirked, leaning closer back to your face. “I’ll be gentle. You know I only want to take care of you, right?”

“Neito,” you began, turning your head away from his cool, mint scented breath. “N-not right now…”

He scoffed. It was too easy to aggravate him and pissing him off was a dangerous game to play. He never… forced you to do anything you didn’t want to, but he was not above throwing fits. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you? Honestly Y/N, you’ve been acting strange for weeks, and if you don’t want me to show you just how much I love you, then you might as well come out and tell me who you’ve been fucking already.”

“Neito!” You shot him an incredulous look. “I haven’t been sleeping with anybody! You know I’m a-!”

“Who is it? You can tell me,” he cut over you, not bothering to hear you out. “You know I’ll always forgive you, but I want to know what filth has been tarnishing what’s mine.”

“Nobody, Neito! I’ve never had sex!”

“Was it Todoroki? I saw him talking to you after your Charms class.”

“He was lending me notes! I missed classes because I was with you!” Jesus, you hadn’t even seen Monoma after you had charms, he was like some kind of obsessive ninja.

“It better not have been that trash, Katsuki Bakugou! He’s been eyeing you since the moment he saw that you were with me. I bet he can’t stand seeing me have something that he doesn’t!”

“You’re not listening to me!” You cried, moving your hands from his back to gently cup his face. You watched as his eyes went from feral and angry to soft and loving as you drew your thumbs across his lips, trying to ease him back to his senses. “Neito, nobody’s been talking to me… even if they were, I’d let them know there’s only one guy for me. I… really liked you, Neito. I liked you enough that I did something very wrong and it has hurt you and for that, I’m sorry. ”

“Hurt me?” He didn’t understand.

“I spiked your drink with a love potion. I thought it would just make you notice me, but now everything is wrong!”

The pregnant pause between you and Monoma was nearly deafening. He lifted his hand to neatly place over yours, his body hot. His eyes searched yours, seeming to register what you were saying. But his eyes lied.

“Liked?” His hands tightened over yours. “As in past tense?”

“That’s not the point and not really what I meant-!”

“Oh, darling, don’t be cute with me right now. I’m thinking!”

You only realized how hard you were shaking when he pulled away from you to let you breathe. Monoma ran his fingers through his hair, messing up its usually neat style. He let out an exaggerated sigh and began to pace. You brought the note out of your pocket. If he couldn’t understand your words, maybe it’d make more sense to him if he’d read them?

You reached out for his shoulders, he tensed at your tender touch for a moment before relaxing against you. You hugged him from behind, burying your face into his back and held the note out in front of him. “Please read it,” you asked, muffled by his blazer.

Gingerly, he took the note out of your hand. He read it over; it basically said all that you had done, when you did it, and why you did it. You noticed his back growing damp and you only realize that you were crying when he turned to face you, with an unreadable expression.

Monoma’s thumb found your cheek and he wiped away an escapee tear you hadn’t intended to let him see. He sighed and watched your lips part, a natural, possible submissive instinct you’d picked up since you started dating the warlock. “I love you, Y/N,” he muttered, trailing his warm, now shaking fingers down to your chin. “I love you so much, it hurts.”

“I-I know.” You forced yourself to speak even though your skin was nearly vibrating from anxiety. “And-“ you gulped “-It’s all my fault. But I’m going to fix this, Neito. You won’t have to hurt… anymore.”

Monoma’s hand found your neck, his touch tentative and gentle at first until his fingers wrapped around you and he started to squeeze.

“You know?” He demanded, his face inching closer towards yours. “If you know how much pain I’m going through, then why the hell are you trying to push me away? Why don’t you ever say you love me back? Why is my angel lying to me?!”

“I’m not,” you squeaked back, pulling on his arm but that only encouraged him to back you up against the wall again.

“I’m going to make you tell me who’s making you say these things to me and then I’m going to have you watch as I strap them to a chair and set them on fire!”

“N-no, Neito,” you choked out as he began to raise you against the wall. The corner of your eyes started to blacken as you stared into the raging blue irises of the crazed blonde.

“I’ve done so much for you, Y/N, and I’ve asked so little in return!” He scoffed at the pathetic, reddened face you were making. You didn’t think you could hold on much longer. “Tell me who it is, Y/N. Tell me who it is or I swear I’ll kill every last warlock, hell, every last caster in this whole goddamn school!”

“Aizawa!” You cried out, noting the shifting black figure across the tower windows.

Monoma blinked, registering who you had named. He was silent for a moment, not noticing the older warlock muttering an incantation behind him.

“Filthy slut,” Monoma finally seethed. “You like older men, then? I bet he gets a kick out of that, taking advantage of something so pure-“ he dropped you to the floor “-so fragile.”

Tears were streaming down your face. You couldn’t manage to look at him and didn’t dare look at Aizawa while he was preparing a spell without Monoma noticing.

“I bet you call him daddy before he makes you choke on his cock, huh?” Monoma grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look up at him. “Once I rid the world of him, I’ll make you do everything you've done to him to me. I’ll be your daddy then, and you’ll be my dirty. little. princess.” He laughed dryly, yanking your head closer to his crotch. “But why wait until then when I have my pretty angel on her knees all ready for me?”

“That won’t be happening.” Aizawa’s low voice sounded across the room. Before Monoma could even turn, Aizawa muttered something in Latin and your boyfriend’s arms were magically bound together and he fell to his knees beside you.

You grabbed Monoma before he could topple over onto the floor, hugging him tightly, whispering ‘I’m sorry’s’ over and over again. Monoma looked at you incredulously before thrashing around in your embrace as Aizawa approached the two of you.

“Obsessive and violent behavior, attempted assault on a student,” Aizawa sighed. “This is exactly why you don’t screw around with love magic, little witch.”

You wiped at your wet face, looking up to your teacher. “You knew?”

“Of course I did.”

“Then why,” you sniffed, looking apologetically bac to Monoma leering next to you, “why didn’t you do something sooner?”

“We have to from our mistakes by facing the consequences,” he said as if your situation were so simple. A potion vial appeared in his hand. “Now it's time to take care of your mistake. Step back.”

You looked to Monoma who had his lip curled up at your teacher. His eyes flicked to you. “Don’t you dare.”

“I’m sorry,” you whispered before scooching away from the writhing warlock.

“Stay away from me!” Monoma snarled at Aizawa as he got a bit closer.

“You need to drink this,” Aizawa said to him, “it’s going to cure you of your ailments.”

“Lying pig!” Monoma all but screeched at your teacher. It burned you to see him this way. This was all your fault, all your fault. “You just want her for yourself!”

Monoma’s eyes once again found yours as he pleaded, “angel don’t do this to me. You love me right? I love you… tell me you love me baby, just this once— KEEP YOUR HOBO HANDS OFF OF ME!”

Monoma kicked his legs up, nearly knocking the vial out of Aizawa’s hands. Your teacher sighed, “at this rate, it might be better to just knock him out.”

“I dare you to try,” the blonde growled.

“Neito, please,” you silently begged, “this is only going to help you.”

Monoma answered you with feral noises, he was practical foaming at the mouth, being over dramatic and kicking himself away from his threat, even while Aizawa backed off and waited for your go ahead.

“If you do this for me-“ you inhaled, heart beating rapidly against your chest “-I’ll do anything and everything you want.” Though, you were sure that after this, Monoma would want nothing to do with you. “I promise you, Neito, anything.”

Monoma scowled at you. “You promise?” He asked. “Anything?”

Another tear fell to your cheek. You nodded.

He finally let up. He stopped his squirming and Aizawa could finally get close to him. Monoma didn’t fail to warn Aizawa that he was going to “be the end of him,” before Aizawa popped the vial into his mouth, and Monoma drained it dry, all while keeping his glare on you.

Minutes passed. You stayed on the floor, allowing silent tears to roll off your face while Aizawa stood cross armed, watching the motionless Monoma intently. Finally, Monoma groaned, squeezing his eyes shut.

“How are you feeling?” Inquired Aizawa.

“I…” Monoma winced. “My head feels like it’s splitting in half…”

“That’s to be expected.”

Guilt hung on your shoulders. Still, you managed to reach out to Monoma’s legs. His eyes opened, he looked right at you, then down to the floor, crossing his legs closer in to himself.

“You should probably go,” Aizawa said to you.

You never wanted this. You never wanted Monoma to be hurt, never wanted him to be obsessive or possessive, never wanted to feel how did you now. You just wanted him to recognize you so you did something vile to him and now you had to live with your guilt and your shame. Now you had to live with Monoma hating you. And you carried your guilt all the way home, using it to cry yourself to sleep.

You didn’t go to school the next day. You would have to face your problems sooner or later but after the night you had, you couldn’t face Monoma or Aizawa or anybody else who would without a doubt know about the heinous act you pulled.

You went into town, trying your hardest to forget about who you were, but whenever you saw a couple holding hands or simply exchanging glances, your heart stung. You managed to split Monoma’s head in half while you simultaneously ripped your heart to shreds. It was what you deserved.

Your legs felt heavy as you crawled into bed. You hardly had enough energy to kick your sheets over your body. You thought you just about drained yourself of all of your tears, but when your head hit the pillow, they came rushing back to you. You could only hide for so long. You were going to have to go to school tomorrow.

Sleep crept its way into your bedroom all the while another force snuck its way in. You were busy having a dream of being forced into a cauldron, when a heavy weight was pushed onto your torso. Your eyes snapped open and you found yourself face to face with Neito Monoma.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, a sickly sweet smile crawling across his face. “You were so still, so… perfect… Did you know you talk when you sleep?”

“Monom-!” Before you could get his full name out, Monoma’s lips locked into yours. He moaned as he kissed you, fingers wrapping around your wrists and bringing them up above your head. He took your breath away, but it wasn’t all that uninvited. You had missed him.

He pulled away, sighing as he took in your flustered physique. His body pressed down harder on you and you were finding your breathing to be a bit strained. He was crushing you.

“I waited for you today,” he mused, peppering kisses down your collarbone. “It seems I’m always waiting for you…”

“What… are you doing here?”

“I’m hurt you even have to ask,” he chuckled sarcastically. “Don’t you remember the promise you made me before making me drink that poison?”

You promised him you’d do anything he wanted. “But the potion was supposed to change you back…”

“It didn’t work,” he said thoughtlessly while his hand slid down to palm you breast.

“W-wait!” You grasped his hand but his merely pushed your arm back down, pulling his knees up to hold your sides tightly.

He glowered down at you. “What I mean to say is, the first potion you slipped me didn’t work.” He smirked. “Do you think that I’m so much of a fool that I couldn’t tell that a drink of mine had been spiked? I was insulted at first, of course, but your actions did give me incentive to pursue you. I’ve always had these feelings for my little angel, and soon, you will too.”

In one swift motion, Monoma held both of your hands back with one of his, while the other pressed glass against your lips. Cold liquid was forced down your throat. Panicking, you swallowed, making Monoma grin and coo, “good girl.”

You coughed when he pulled the vial away from you. He hushed you and kissed your forehead. “Things will be better this way,” he whispered as your body began to shake. “You’ll see me just as I see you. We just have to wait a few minutes.”

Your head spun and it felt like your body was sinking into your bed. Your mind was clouding over and there was nothing you could do about Monoma’s wet, hot, hungry kisses across your body. But in a matter of minutes, just like he said, it wasn’t of any negative concern. Your head, along with your heart, was changing.

“Neito,” you sighed his name and leaned up against your bed.

Monoma placed a tender kiss on your stomach before looking up at you with the most dazzling and brilliant blue eyes. You lifted your hand out to him and he wove his fingers through yours.

“Is my angel ready to make good on her promise?” He asked. You nodded and he grinned, crawling up your bed to level his head with yours. “Then let’s start with one simple request,” he said before brushing his lips against yours.

“Tell me you love me.”

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