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onskepa · 1 month ago

Note

It's ok how about them reacting to the romanian movie morometii you can find the whole movie on you tube on cinepub channel with english subtitles it's a movie which shows how the peasants în the interbelic period lived în Romania the rules of thisare the same from my request with the revenant still aplies if you want to of course:)

Okie dokie! So for this one, I imagine only the adults watching it. So enjoy~!!

P.S: I think this is the first time that I couldnt think of a title so im using the movie title instead.

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Morometii

Mo’at sighed tiredly as she just finished the last patient in getting healed. Her age is getting to her, not as energetic as she was before. She isn't complaining though, any injuries are simply related to getting hurt during a hunt or taking it too far in training. So the tsahik cleans her tent, feeling very excited for her special plans tonight.

A movie night with her family.

Simplu, a fellow human from the base, made a high recommendation for mo’at to enjoy. Mo’at does not oppose it and is open to anything. Except for overlight high CGI movies. Those are an absolute eye sore to mo’ats aging eyes. How can anyone stand those? Too flashy for her.

Either way, mo’at trusts smplu with her opinion. Even if the name is a bit confusing.

“Moro…metee?” mo’at repeated slowly.

Simply chuckled as she held an old DVD box. “Morometii” she said, slowly so Mo'at could say it clearly.

“Morometii” this time the tsahik says it right.

“That's right,” Simplu praised.

“Will it give me a headache?” mo’at asks. Simplu shakes her head.

“No no, unlike the other films, this one is simple. It is black and white and gray scales, no dramatic shots or anything realistically fake”

If mo’at had eyebrows, one would be raised. Her doubts clearly showed.

“And the plot?”

Simplu giggled, “what use of me telling you? That would spoil the fun”

“And the children?” mo’at asks as she noticed neither her grandchildren nor the reef children were present.

“They all went to watch something else,” Neytiri replied.

“Simplu did mention that the kids might get bored with this type of movie, so I let them have a go ahead to watch something else,” Jake added. He and tonowari were making sure the ladies were comfortable with pillows plush and soft, ronal gathering the favorite snacks, and neytiri helping her mother get more comfy.

“Won't simplu be joining us?” mo’at asks.

The recommended movie is from Simplu's homeland, wouldn't she be interested to see?

“Here! I'm here! Sorry I'm late, had to help the kids with the other dvd player” simplu shouted as she entered the area. Mo’at smiled in relief.

Jake smiled, “alright, lets start this” and pressed play.

The screen was filled with imagery, and like simplu said, it was black and white. Though, unlike the crips and clear vision, it looked grainy and much older.

“Already into an interesting start” ronal muttered as she gets comfortable beside tonowari.

The first shot begins with many views of objects, trees, the skies, all slowly to allow the viewers to see.

“Already getting a sense of gloom jake comments as the slow soundtrack plays. Its lingering long notes, short haunting notes, give a sense that the movie will not be a happy one.

The next shot was of an elderly man, staring straight at the camera as he smokes a cigarette. Unfamiliar animal sounds in the background. The shot changes to a lady waking up from what looks like a family pile.

“Do humans sleep like us? Huddling together?” neytiri asks as she notices more people sleeping around the lady.

“In the ancient times yes” simplu answered.

The lady stood up and stared at the man who was smoking, speaking an unknown language.

“Oops! My bad!” Jake stood up quickly to pause it and went to settings.

“You forgot?” simplu asks, jake chuckles nervously as he nodded.

“What are you doing?” Neytiri asks, seeing weird words on the screen.

“Changing to english, so everyone can understand what's going on” Jake replies, after a fix, the movie resumes. And this time everyone can hear the characters.

“I dreamed of a white piglet….”

The man and the lady began to speak, their words low and simple. Very straightforward.

“Their clothes are interesting…” mo’at took note of.

While they do mutter some comments, the rest of the na’vi adults let their eyes wonder if this new style of film. Or old.

As they see how the humans interact, Ronal and Neytiri couldn't help but admire how the overall land, the animals, and the people themselves looked. ‘Farmers’ as jake and Simplu would state. Farmers who take care of their herd and families.

Not so far from how their own clans farm certain things.

“Milk the goat! What will you eat?”

“Crayfish!”

“It seems through times women have not changed” Tonowari muttered yet earned a slap on his shoulder from his wife.

“Nagging sure is a dominant trait in women” Jake agreed, only to also earn a harsh slap at the back of his head from neytiri.

The scene changes to the youngest boy, waking up from what looked like a nap. Getting up he looks at his surroundings, it seems to be a small wooded area, the sheeps not so far from him. The music makes it almost an eerie feeling to the scene. The wind rustles through the trees, ripples forming from the water, the grassing swaying.

“What are they doing?” neytiri wonders, seeing two young men hiding behind some trees as the sheep run towards the corn field. Making the young boy run after them.

Before anything more could be talked about, the scene changes to the mother. A worried look on her face. Supper is ready she announces, her family members going to the home to eat. All the while throwing odd insults.

“I never heard of such scolding like that” mo’at whispers.

Simplu chuckles a bit, “that is romanian mothers for you”

The scene goes on, the family having their dinner, all while the mother worries about the youngest son.

“Telling the other to shut up, why can't they themselves?” Ronal says, not liking how the father and sons command their mother/wife.

“Times were different, family dynamics back then were more strict” simplu explains. Though the explanation doesn't seem to satisfy the reef tsahik.

“Hmf, still”

“On the other hand we need money…The loan must be paid back in the fall” Morometii explains to his son.

Money is often mentioned in the movie. Neytiri and mo’at only understand very bit how item transactions work in human customs, but never a whole lot.

“Why is money so important?” neytiri asks jake. He sighs a bit, letting his mind go back in time.

“For humans, it is everything. It is what made the earth go round as they say” he replies.

“How?” she perseus. How can money make a giant planet move? Is it essential?

“Money didnt always make the world go around. The early humans were fine without it. Only now, yeah, humans cant live without it” simplu adds.

“Look, money is confusing even for adults, so try not to stress so much on it” jake tells. Simplu gives him a look, without him knowing.

The scene changes to that of the youngest son and his mother. The mother provides some food for her child, wondering of his words. “What about Bisisica? What do you mean?” the mother asks.

“This is really confusing…” ronal frowns slightly, still trying to understand what really is going on, even the names! There is so many people already!

“It will all make sense later on ronal” simplu reasures. Though she can understand, while she loves the movie, it took her a few watches to fully understand the whole movie. Then again, simplu’s first time watching it was when she was a child.

The son replies as he enjoys his food, repeating what he overheard from his father and brother.

“Woe betide you if you come up the hill! You won't have any joy left in you” the mother scolds. However her words left everyone, except for simplu, confused.

“What does that even mean?” Jake asks. He felt so lost at that point.

Nila and Morometii grab some axes and go towards the acacia tree. As they made their way, farther ahead in the field were echos of a weeping woman. Her cries reached far in the morning. Crying for a man named ‘ion’.

“Oh that poor woman…” mo’at covers her mouth. Hearing the woman weep so much made her heart tug. Reminding herself. How mo’at would weep for her descended mate.

Neytiri and ronal feel terrible as well. Never imagining themselves living a life without their husbands. Wondering what could have happened to the woman’s dead husband.

But as the ladies feel pity, nila and morometii begin to cut the tree. While being watched from afar. The youngest boy seeing them cutting away at the tree. Letting his mind wonder back to a certain winter time.

From hearts being tugged, nila and morometii managed to bring down the tree.

“Why such a need? What did that tree ever do to them?” ronal hisses. It seems humanity has not changed even in ancient times.

“The acacia wood is high value, that is why. When there were plenty, many humans back then would use acacia wood for how good it was” simplu explains. Ronal simply crosses her arms.

“Bah! Holding a mimicking weapon and already I'm seeing the resemblance” Ronal complains. Barely 30 minutes into the movie and she is hating on Paraschiv. Nila is not too far from her hate list. Dressing up like soldiers and practicing the routines.

“Has war already existed in that era?” tonowari asks.

Jake and simplu made a face, “it has been for thousands of years”

While the movie both in plot and making of it, war has always been there. Pretty difficult to get rid of in humans.

“Nila! Where are you running off to?”

“To the pre military service!”

Morometii and what looks to be his neighbor, Dimitru, discusses the usefulness of serving military areas. Why work for the country when you can stay and work with your family? Seems something more in morometii’s ideals.

“But nila won't be an officer even if there is no one else around”

“Damn, seems he doesn't believe in nila” Jake comments.

In Jake's eyes, nila seems odd. Not odd in being the weirdo of the family, but more odd as if nila is still somewhat like a child. Earlier fighting with paraschiv as if they were toddlers fighting over a toy. Morometii mentioned nila is 24, a full grown man. So why does Nila act as if he is younger? Even the youngest child acts wiser than nila.

“Ugh, I never understand why men have the need to blow out smoke” mo’at gives a disgusted expression. 45% of the time morometii is smoking. Constantly. In what she knows of human biology, inhaling that much smoke can damage the lungs.

“Why hurt themselves like that?” she asks.

“For humans, it is a relaxing method. Eases their nerves and minds. But it does come at a cost” simplu answers.

Understanding humans will forever be a confusing and difficult task.

“What is he doing?!” tonowari shouts.

Little boys were enjoying a game of hopping on top of one another. Enjoying their time together while one of the older sons of morometii along with the youngest interrupts their fun. Integrating each child until patience ran thin. To the point where the older son, who is an adult, is threatening and slapping the boys to get an answer out of them.

It did not sit well with tonowari.

How can anyone treat a child like that? Especially not of their own blood!

The poor child that was being slapped confessed on who the perpetrator was, his voice shaking.

Niculae, the youngest son, was being told to get them. Though the boy doesnt move. Much to his brother's frustrations.

“No! No more!” neytiri looks away. Seeing the boy being slapped physically pained her. To what extent can humans be so cruel?

“Sadly neytiri, it is our reality. Back then children were not treated with much kindness nor respect” simplu informs. She remembers back when she first saw that scene, made her feel the slap too. But the more she watched it, the more she became numb to it. Maybe not a good sign of how normal it is now.

Jake nudges her to keep watching, not a good scene, but they will get over it.

The music gets intense, making the situation become scarier.

One of the boys did come up, telling how niculae broke their skull. Only to be rough handled by achim. The adult telling the boy to throw niculae to the ground. Clearly the boy was very uncomfortable.

“Fight him now! Come on!” achim tells the other boys. All clearly frightened. The same boy threw niculae to the ground twice. Niculae fighting back. Taking control of the situation until he was over the other boy. Achim finally calling an end to it.

Not far from what is happening, the group of women were watching, Doing nothing.

“Do they not interfere?” ronal asks. The women just sit and not take action.

“Back then it was easier and safer for women to not do anything. Letting the men sort it out” jake tells.

Great, in ronal’s eyes, humanity hated women and children.

“A play?”

The na’vi tilt their heads in curiosity.

A man dressed in a silly costume is playfully scaring the locals that are around to see the entertainment. By hearing a signal, many more men dressed in old military-like outfits and made a circle to dance around in. Music plays and it becomes a silly cheery mood.

Many laugh and seem to be enjoying the play.

While in the background one of morometii’s daughters sneakily goes behind his back and meet in the glade with someone.

“I hate this movie,” neytiri hisses.

Polina, the girl who went to meet the gentleman, Birica, was no gentleman in her eyes. The girl confesses of whom she chooses to marry and earns a slap.

“In frightens me to know you share blood with those people” mo’at turns to simplu. She shrugs a bit.

“Things have changed over time mo’at. Its not the same as before”

“Hopefully the change is better”

“Oh certainly”

“Maria, you should stop working and come to church to listen to the holy gospel. Your soul will rot in hell!”

“I dont mind”

“I keep forgetting how religious people were in those times…” simplu muttered. Any and all religion on earth was slowly dying as technology became its new god among humans,

“What is hell? Has anyone returned from there?”

Maria and Morometii clearly showing their shared blood as siblings. Work being favored over god.

The words that comes from maria seems that of hopelessness and seeing no light.

“At least she is keeping it real” jake says.

In his eyes, Maria reflects how he viewed the world many years ago. What is the point of worshiping something that guarantees nothing?

Except for when maria insults and randomly slaps niculae.

“Fools!” she shouts.

Another play has taken the scene. Morometii and his friends went to see the children displaying a cute play for many to see. A young girl wearing a pretty flower crown tells of what looks like a story. Many applaud her as a man tells of the winners.

“First prize for boys! Morometii Niculae” the man announces.

Morometii stands still as he hears the name of his son.

Niculae walks up to the stage wearing his father’s hat as the instructor gives him a flower crown and a paper.

“Take off your hat! Poor boy. I bought him that hate, and he doesnt even know how to wear it” morometii chuckles a bit.

“Lies” simplu snapped.

Everyone leans forward, just as the audience in the movie, they all stood silent to hear what poem the son wrote.

“Stage frights?” Jake questions.

Niculae gotten sick, unable to read his poem and was set aside.

“Oh all of a sudden he cares,” neytiri comments. Seeing morometii showing concern for niculae.

“Probably to save face” ronal says with the same tone.

It was time to reap.

Morometii, his family, along with other farmers woke up early. Many hop on their wagons and horses and all head to the fields.

Large lands of crops ready to be harvested.

Using sickle blades, the family begins to cut away and have the weat be collected.

This part piqued the na’vi’s interest. They were not exposed much in how farming is done in human standards. So this was in a way new to them.

“Bending down like that, and with still so much to reap. Doesn't that hurt their backs?” tonowari asks.

Simplu and Jake nod.

“At that time, no machines existed to make farming easier. All done bare hands. And that is to feed thousands of people” simple explained.

They more how the farmers worked. Taking what little shade is provided from the hot sun. Resting a bit and continuing with work. It looked like a fruitful harvest. Many work together to get it done.

Simplu looks at the hard work, feeling an odd sense of nostalgia, “I wonder what it was like to eat real bread….”

“father….I am going to school”

“So go”

The family was eating their meal in silence. Only simple comments were shared. Nila muffles his laugh. Niculae looks at his father, “you’ll see”. He gets up and leaves. His other siblings smiling at him, silently laughing at him.

“Morometii doesnt believe in his son” mo’at says in a matter of fact tone. Seems to hardly believe anything in the youngest son.

“Simplu, just what else was normal in romania? Mocking a child for wanting to learn? Perfering to slack their way to life?” neytiri turns to look and simplu. The Romanian girl gulps at her sharp gaze.

“Easy babe, you are making it seem like she has some fault,” jake says.

“Many countries have different cultures. Just like your clans. Romania had its own….ummm…ways” simple replied.

They continue to see the movie in silence until something else piqued someones interest.

The mother wakes up, noticing morometii wide awake as her children still lay asleep. Gripping her shirt, right where her heart is, Telling her husband of her worried for the youngest child, who wishes to go to school. Morometii carelessly saying to let the boy go.

“I cant stand it anymore! I’ll go mad!” the mother weeps.

“I will go mad with this movie!” neytiri onces again screeches out.

“And I will go mad myself watching your insanity,” ronal growls. Having enough of Neytiri's loud comments. Yes she understands her frustrations but to shout every 5 minutes? It can get annoying really quick.

“Alright, alright, lets cool down. We are almost done, baby, hey, lets try to just enjoy it alright?” jake does his best to calm down her wife. She rolls her eyes but silently agrees. For now.

In the midst of the small dispute, mo’at listens carefully to what the mother is saying.

“I dreamt of niculae was taken to the hospital. I went there. There was a little light at the morgue ‘oh god! The boy is dead!’ And I woke up”

It was a very concerning thing to have as a dream.

Mo’at can only see what else can occur.

“Tita! Llinca! Hurry up!”

When the tax collector returned, the daughters and sons of morometii quickly hid their things and horses. Morometii himself just layed on his bed with an empty look in his eyes. Perhaps lost in what to do.

After hearing the possibility of achim not returning, and no money to pay. It took a toll on him.

The tax collector and his assistant came with a full force. If morometii won't pay, then they will take their belongings. The wife fought against him to not take the cauldron.

“Ruthless men, all of them”

But none could have been more than paraschiv.

Waking up his family, throwing items against his sister. Causing an uproar in his home.

“What possessed you Paraschiv?” Morometii asks.

Even in the morning, parachiv was different. Having an odd cocky attitude. Even slamming his bedroom door near his mother.

“Break! Bang! What else are you able to do!?” the mother shouts.

Jake looks at the ongoing scene, “maybe he has had enough?”

“I break, I bang, are they yours?” the son asks.

The mother had her daughter call their father again. Parachive laughs.

“You think I'm scared of him? Those days are long gone”

“Damn, never mind. He is in a rebellion phase” jake corrects himself. The sudden mood change and overall personality of parachive is certainly questionable.

Even more when he demands something, only for his sister to bite back with her words. That ticked him.

“How can he slap her like that!?”

Parachive went for the trunk when his sister, llinca tried to stop him. Only for parachiv to slap and hit her. Screams and cries were heard. But parachiv got what he wanted. And morometii seemed to be on his side.

“Really, who is the bad guy here?” jake was starting to question just how much of a poor victim morometii is. Slapping his own wife as she cries in distress.

“As you like” mormometii says in calm defeat. The sudden voice change when speaking to his wife compared to speaking to his sons.

“And he lets them get away like that?” ronal says, astonished. There is so many things wrong in her eyes. Mother being disrespected, hitting a sibling like she was an enemy, favoring the sons in a spoilt way. None of that would be tolerated.

“Oh wait a sec”

2 minutes later Morometii went to his sons, mostly paraschiv and beat the shit out of him with a stick.

“That's more like it” neytiri smirks. Enjoying paraschiv screams and cries for his father to stop.

“You show hound!”

Scolding and yelling, morometii lets his voice rise as he lectures his sons. The mother and daughters try to stop him from hurting parachiv any further.

“The sons should be grateful for what they have” neytiri liking the words morometii speaks.

“Parachiv and nila….they ran away. And they took the horses” Catrina tells morometii. She and her daughters had long dreaded expressions.

There was a long pause

“Alright, get the little one ready” morometii said before walking away.

Niculae looked as his father and at his mother with an odd smirk. But it disappeared in a instant.

All while moromettii goes into the barn, sitting down to gather himself before making a big decision.

“He is going to sell that land” jake is predicting. And correct he was.

Slobbery, a farming neighbor, is willing to buy the land he wants from morometii. Both the land that is from morometii’s long gone sister, and the plot behind his home.

The next scene, niculae and morometii get on the wagon with a recently purchased horse. Catrina cries as she sees her son become farther away as morometii takes off to the road.

“He is going to school afterall” mo’at says. Feeling sad for catrina. Her world falling apart right before her eyes.

Morometii and niculae sat in silence in the wagon. The cold foggy air hitting their faces. It was hard to see ahead and know what was in front of them. They were like that for a few minutes before morometii stopped to ask.

“Niculae, where are we going, son?”

There was no direct answer, only turning left and kept on going.

The credits rolled in, thus ending the movie.

“Well that was…. interesting” jake commented. Having mixed feelings about it.

“It's one of your favorite simplu?” mo’at asks as she gets up.

“Not exactly a favorite, but one I grew up with” simplu answers.

Ronal and Tonowari get up as well, all stretching from sitting down so much.

“Those people, I am still confused and lost. How did the romanians lived?” ronal asks. Simplu smiles, feeling a bit giddy.

“If you are interested I would be delighted to teach you”

Ronal and tonowari shared a similar nod.

“Yes, it would be interesting to learn of your people. Some parts did not sit well with me however” tonowari says. Simplu nodded in understanding.

“Fair, there will be many things that may not seem fair or right in your eyes. But that was how it was back then. When facing a never ending struggle, people get desperate and dont think right”

While they wanted to discuss more, they noticed how late it gotten.

“In a better suited time, you can be our Romanian teacher” mo’at lightly joked.

“Oh I be honored” simplu smiled.

Finally it is done! I had to re-watch it like three times to fully understand it myself! I did purposely not mention the heavy political stuff since politics itself is confusing.

Ngl some parts made me a bit uncomfortable but hopefully this turned out to everyone's liking! Until next time! See ya!

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hils79 · 4 months ago

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4 years ago today my dear friend @kpopingenue and I were talking and she sent me the MV for Wonderland because she liked it and thought I would too.

And, thus, my Ateez journey began.

I jokingly call it a slow burn relationship. I loved their music from the first time I listened to Wonderland but it took a few months before I checked out their albums and listened to their b-sides.

Even after that I still didn't know all their names (which is nothing against them, I'm the same with a lot of kpop groups I've been listening to for ages. I've been listening to Stray Kids for almost as long as I've been listening to Ateez and I still only know half the members).

Eventually, and I remember this clearly, in December 2021 I had a very vivid dream about buying Zero Fever Part 2 and I took that as a sign and ordered it as soon as I woke up.

It was funny because I knew some of the members at this point but not all of them and I had to text a photo of my photocards to a friend because I knew one of them was San, but I had no idea who the other one was (it was Yeosang).

After that, it became a pay day treat. Every month when I got paid, I'd treat myself to an Ateez album until I had them all. I now have at least one version of every album including all the Japanese ones.

And I finally sat down and watched a guide because if I was going to start collecting albums I should probably learn who everyone was.

Even after that I still struggled telling Yunho and Jongho apart for the longest time, and I have no idea why because now that I know them well I can see that they don't look anything like each other.

So, this carried on for a couple more years. I was happily collecting my albums and watching new MVs when they came out, but I still, for whatever reason, hadn't crossed the bridge into the fandom side of things. I was just quietly enjoying them by myself.

Then Will came out, and I don't know why, but that album rewired something in my brain. Suddenly I was fully obsessed. I watched Hongjoong's behind the scenes of Matz vlog, and suddenly I wanted to make gifs, but proper gifs not just a using a screen recorder which was all I'd ever done before.

I had an ancient version of Photoshop (which I have now upgraded) so I found a gif making tutorial for beginners. The gifs I made were very basic, but I had made them, and I was proud of myself for learning a thing.

Then I decided that to practice and learn new colouring styles, it would be fun to make gifs of all the Ateez MVs. So I did! It took a good few weeks of making a new set every evening, but I did it, and I can definitely see how I've improved as I've gone along.

And there we have it. 4 years from watching an MV to collecting albums to learning how to make gifs. And along the way I've reconnected with some old friends who love Ateez, and made some amazing new friends too. I went to my first ever cupsleeve in May, and I've been to a couple more since then, with another one on the calendar for later this month (happy birthday Mingi). And next time they come to the UK I am definitely going to try and get tickets, which will also make them my first kpop concert.

It's taken me a long time to get here, but the important thing is I made it.

Happy Ateez-versary to me!

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youlikefanficdontyousquidward · 1 year ago

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Neighbourly

Summary: Whilst hiding from your ex in a new city you meet your rather strange neighbour. Now with a strange artifact bound to you, you must rely on his help as well as his flat mates?

Warnings: unrealistic London flat pricing, past abusive relationship hinted at, slow burns, spiders

Steven Grant x Reader, Marc Spector x Reader, eventual Jake Lockely too

Part one

A move to London was perhaps a rather extreme move to get away from an ex but all things considered not the worst decision you'd made recently. You'd found a lovely open plan flat, a job at a local coffee shop and even adopted a cat for company.

You were happy to settle into a quiet chapter of your life. Well quiet apart from you neighbour. It was just you two on this floor at the moment and he wasn't loud. The oddity came from the few times you'd catch him in the halls.

Sometimes he'd practically shove past, almost knocking shoulders but seemingly unaware of your presence. Other times he'd be wearing a similar scowl but side step you. Most often though he'd awkwardly smile, wave or even squeak out a hello while avoiding your eyes.

You much proffered the latter. He was cute, really cute but his odd temperament was strange. It seemed to mainly happen at night though so you'd brace yourself if you saw him past midnight. Probably just tiered or something.

Work had been slow today, not a lot of tourists making their way down to the cafe. So when the little bell rang it startled you. A familiar head of curls entered out of the afternoon rain. It'd been a few weeks since you'd run into Steven in the lift. Finally getting him to squeeze out more than one word to you.

You'd introduced yourself properly offering him your hand. He'd taken it babbling out his own name and a few apologizes. Including one for shaking your hand too long. You'd just laughed a little before eyeing his stack of books. Turned out he was a big ancient Egypt buff and ranted the rest of the way to your door.

"Sorry, didn't mean to talk your ear off...." He mumbled.

"Ears still attached." You grinned back at him, the topic was rather nostalgic for you. He'd returned the smile before awkwardly stumbling off to his own door and bashing off the door frame.

The firm expression he came with today concerned you slightly and you wondered which attitude you'd have. He didn't glance at you just yet, his eyes were fixed on the metallic coffee machine and set in a bemused frown. You chose to focus on the cleaning you'd been doing while he figured out whatever had him so focused on the espresso machine.

"Hey." He finally spoke. You rose your head, smiling politely at your neighbour.

"Afternoon what can I get you Steven?" You asked brightly. His eyes shifted up and stayed on the board, awkwardly ringing his hands as he shifted his weight.

"Just a black coffee to go please, Y/n." He mumbled. You nodded trying not to make him anymore nervous. You were no stranger to anxiety, perhaps you'd been overly friendly.

"I was wondering..." He started behind you. You glanced back to him from the cup you'd prepared. "I'll be gone a week tomorrow, my friend can't look after my fish. Would you be able to come in and feed him?" He asked suddenly meeting your eyes. His tone was smoother, posture straighter, smile charming, though there was something off about his voice. Despite that you felt a little heat rise to your cheeks as his deep brown eyes stared so firmly back at you. God he was stunning.

"Sure!" You smiled as you passed the coffee over the counter. Trying your best not to sound too excited. "You'll have to tell me what to do though."

Steven's fingers brushed yours as he took the cup and you pulled back your hand quickly. You cleared your throat and told him his total, avoiding his quirked brow. He paid before his eyes settled back on you with another bright smile.

"I'm home tonight just come round and I'll show you." Steven offered. You met his eyes again and returned his smile.

By the time you made it home you'd began to regret agreeing to come over. You were a mix of nerves, half excited at the opportunity to get to know Steven better, half way to a panic attack. Being alone with a guy again set your adrenaline spiking. Still you'd feel guilty not going now.

You headed from your door to his and paused outside for a moment as you collected yourself. Inside you could hear Steven talking, arguing maybe? His voice was raised but you still couldn't make out the words. There was no other voice though so you just waited a moment until it was quiet again before knocking. You could hear a slight yelp before chains jangled on the other side of the door. The door cracked open, wide dark eyes staring through the gap.

"Hi." You waved. Steven pulled the door open suddenly with a slight squeak. You stood in the door frame with him a moment while he stared at to his left before his wide eyes returned to you.

"Oh! Y/n poppin' round, yes yes, for Gus... yeah..." Steven stammered as he retreated back into his flat. Confused you followed considering leaving the door open. Deciding it'd be rude you closed it behind you.

"Did you forget?" You asked as you followed his shuffling form into his kitchen area. There you saw Gus you presumed, a bright orange goldfish in a massive tank. It was well filtered, lots of space and plants. Honestly it might be overkill for one fish but it was sweet how much he cared for the little guy. You couldn't judge considering how much you'd already been spoiling your cat.

"Oh yeah um.. sorry." Steven said before gesturing to the tank. "Ah there's the man himself, have a gander around, I'll uh... get the kettle on." He turned back to his cabinets leaving you at the tank.

You took the opportunity to glance around the room. Open plan, a little gloomy and cluttered. Books and paper scattered almost every surface. Various ancient Egyptian trinkets filling in any left over space which made you stifle a giggle. He really was quiet obsessed.

You stepped around a pile of clothes next to a suitcase as you headed further into the space. Your foot slipped suddenly and you waved your arms out to re-balance yourself. Your cursed as you wobbled glancing down at a broken circle of sand. Curious you toed it before taking in the scene ahead.

Inside a circle of sand was Stevens bed. A mess of tangled sheets atop of roomy king sized with an obvious dent on one side. You quirked an eyebrow at the nearest post. Attached to it was an ankle restraint. You lifted the cuff inspecting the well used buckle.

"Oh uh..." Steven mumbled from behind. You turned to him with an amused expression still holding the cuff.

"Kinky." You hummed before you could stop yourself.

"It's not... I.... its for sleepwalking." Steven rambled trying to usher you away frantically. You caved, trying to save him from anymore embarrassment and followed him back through to his kitchen.

"Must be some sleepwalking to need all that." You gestured back. Steven was beet red now, ringing his hands as he looked everywhere but yourself.

"You get yourself into trouble or something?" You asked taking the tea he'd made into your hands.

"Yeah, yeah something like that." Steven turned to his fish tank.

"Don't fret it I understand." You hummed taking a mug of tea from the counter.

"You do?" He said, those big eyes again scanning your features.

"Yeah, get sleep paralysis sometimes but hey whatever works. So Gus?" You asked trying to take it to easier topics, for both of you.

"Bloody hell Marc..." He gritted as his face scrunched at his fish before he turned back to you. "Oh uh I was..." He stuttered before picking up his phone. "Marc my uh brother...yeah. He was supposed to sort this." He laughed awkwardly as he typed something back.

"No worries, happy to help a neighbour in need." You smiled. So that was who he was arguing with before.

You ended up staying for an hour more after that, tea forgotten and grown cold. Steven was calmer and easier to talk to as time ticked by. He showed you how to feed Gus, then after you nudged he talked about some of his Egyptian stuff. You'd had to excuse yourself when the yawning started but you were hopeful you may get to talk more when he was home.

The week was passing quickly with fish sitting duties and work. It was your last day letting yourself into Steven's flat after work. You'd made a b-line for Guy again, intent on not overstepping. You cooed at the little guy before a rattling distracted you.

The door was closed but you'd not bothered locking it nor setting the chain. If Steven had returned your sure it would have been a key you heard. Instead it was a slight scratching at the keyhole that set your hair on end. You'd regretted not listening to your instincts before and heeded the warning.

The door creaked open right as you'd stepped over the sand ring at the bed. As quietly as you could you slipped under the edge and shuffled until you were completely hidden under the frame. It was a tight squeeze, you hadn't done this since you were a kid but you managed.

Heavy footsteps sounded across the floorboards. Fancy dress shoes came into view and you held your breath. They stepped round the bed before moving away. You followed the movement with your eyes until they paused ahead of you. Your eyes refocused on the rather large house spider less than a foot ahead of you.

It took everything in you not to move, not to scream as the beast stepped towards you. Skittering legs continued their movement as you scrunched your eyes shut. You focused as hard as you could on the sound of the intruder. Foot steps moving into the lounge area of the flat before a light tickle against your nose brought you back. The feather light hairs brushing against you.

You tucked your face to the side swiftly suppressing a shudder. Peaking out just a touch your saw the intruders frame in the other room pause. It was hard to make out past the bookshelf that divided the room but you could see their legs. They moved again back to the kitchen, low light coming in from the blinds glinting off the gun in their hand.

You didn't dare move again but your chest was burning for air. As quietly as you could you took a deep breath in. The intruder didn't seem to hear you though picking up a few things here and there. Their ringing phone startled you and you bumped your head against the bed frame. Still the sound didn't alert them and they headed out Stevens door.

You didn't move for a long time, light dipping from the window and filling the room in darkness before you crawled out. Your legs screamed and cramped from your position but you were sure they were gone.

In a sudden panic you felt your chest constrict, phone fumbled into your hands as you dialed the number Steven had given you. Between rings you rushed to the door, tripping over before you'd even passed the bed. You landed hard on your elbows and knees phone lost as it clattered from your hands.

Groaning you flopped back onto your rear and took a few gulping breathes. Though a horrible shock it seemed to have dispersed the oncoming panic attack. Turning you spied what caused you to fall behind you.

It was an ornate, small, golden box with intricate carvings and bright stones embedded in the metal. It matched the Egypt theme of Steven's home though perhaps a little more ostentatious. Maybe that's why it'd been hidden under the bed.

You picked the box up with you before retrieving your fallen phone. The call hadn't gone through and you sighed, hanging up. The box was oddly heavy for its size but it felt wrong to leave it after someone had just tried to break in. You texted Steven as you head back to your own flat, re-locking his door. He'd be home by tomorrow night, until then you'd keep his odd box safe at least.

It was sometime after you'd tried to go to bed that you found yourself in your kitchen. The night dragged on and despite your best efforts sleep evaded you. You had to give yourself some grace, you'd just witnessed a home invasion. Maybe you should have called the police?

It felt silly to do so now. The man was long gone and he hadn't even taken anything, unlike yourself. The box sat bright on your counter. Shining in the moonlight coming in from the window. It was odd how much it seemed to glow, catching the slightest light and bouncing it a hundred times back.

An impatient meow brought your attention back. The speckled and stripped cat you'd taken in yowling for more head rubs. You relented scratching under her chin as she closed her big emerald eyes. As fickle as ever she shifted out from your pets and rubbed herself under your chin. Her tail tickled against your throat and you laughed lightly in the silence.

Her steps took her closer to the box and before you could stop it she'd nudged it from the counter. You dove an arm out, just catching its corner but the lid opened. Its contents fell the few inches to the floor. You cringed as the metal clattered against your tile floor.

Cursing to yourself you bent to pick up the box first then the shining object from the floor. Somehow both still caught the light and the glare made you squint at the...paper weight? You took it in your hand, turning it as you stood. Laying flat on your palm you recognized the symbol, the Eye of Horus maybe?

To your relief it seemed intact and you made to place it back in its box when an odd tingling in your hand distracted you. Confused you went to pass the eye into your other hand but it stuck. Then it burned.

You shrieked extending your arm to try shake it free but it remained seared to your flesh. In a screaming panic you tried to shove it off with the heal of your other hand to no avail.

Your cat seemed agitated too, heckles raised as she stared off into the dark of the room. The burn started to subside as you heard something shift in your living room. You moaned at the string but tried to focus on the new threat. Had the burglar returned?

You were about ready to plead, let him take the stupid box when the shape in the darkness moved. It wasn't a person. It was far longer than your couch and curled past into your bed room. The slightest hint of moonlight shone in specs along the trunk of this thing at least a meter off the floor.

You gaped, mouth bobbling as you tried to comprehend what slithered across your rug. It reared up, several feet above your head, eyes gleaming red in the dark. Frozen in place your heart hammered relentlessly in your chest. A dizzying feeling swam in your mind as great wings spread in what little space the creature hadn't take over.

Then your door broke open, light bursting in from the hall and banishing the vision from your mind. You were still in place when Steven came into view. You only returned when his hands met your cheeks and turned your face from side to side.

"....you okay, I got your messages. What happened? Did he hurt you? Did he find it?" He asked firmly. His face was cast in a frown as he continued to search you for injury. His hands slipped down your shoulders, following down to your hands where he turned your palms up.

"Shit." He uttered, jaw ticking. Coming back to yourself you glanced down at your hands. The eye statue was gone but its shape remained. Burned into your right palm.

#jake lockely x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #moon knight imagine #my fics

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ficsbyuzi · 6 months ago

Text

All the ways lead to you - part 3

Read Part 2

Characters - Aemond Targaryen and Inara Maegyr (OFC) in a modern AU.

Warnings - Slow burn. Mentions of alcohol and smoking.

Summary - Inara tries to figure out how she feels about everything that happened on her first day at work.

Note - Flashback and internal monologues are in Italics.

Word count - 1593

"He is a man of few words. You'll get used to his personality once you start working with him," Margaery's voice cut through the hustle and bustle of the coffee house.

"He seems hard to impress," Inara shrugged, adding sweetener to her coffee.

"Well, he is a celebrity, a superstar here in Westeros. He meets and works with so many people every day. In his situation, anyone would act stoically while dealing with their staff."

Of course. He looks every bit of a superstar.

"His family descends from the ancient Targaryen royal line and still kind of owns this city."

Oh. Wow. Targaryens of Old Valyria.

Margaery chuckled, noticing Inara's eyebrows shoot up in astonishment and awe.

“Red Keep Production house and studios are half owned by them, so this show is his home production. Have you seen any of his work before?"

So he is The Boss.

“I should have done some homework before coming here." Smiling sheepishly, Inara made a mental note to watch some of Aemond's acting projects over the weekend.

They finished their coffee and she took her leave to attend her second orientation meeting with the on-set medical team. However, she had a hard time focusing on the presentations, her thoughts constantly drifting back to him.

To the enigmatic Aemond Targaryen.

Back home, she tried to immerse herself in her chores and her books, but thoughts of him clung to her like a shadow she couldn't shake off.

Although she was left feeling a bit intimidated by his presence, she couldn't help but replay her brief encounter with him in her mind.

His voice still thrummed through each fiber of her being, drowning her in a tantalizing warmth.

He was not around her anymore, yet she could still feel his gaze lingering on her, like an invisible caress.

There was something about him - both unnerving and exhilarating. Intimidating yet inviting.

An inexplicable pull was drawing her to him.

Maybe he has the same effect on everyone around him.

Maybe I am merely in awe of a celebrity.

Yeah that's all it is.

But since when have I started fangirling over movie or TV stars?

She rolled her eyes at her chattering mind and tried to clear her head by writing in her journal.

I had a good day today. The world of glamor and showbiz is a realm far beyond anything I've ever known. But I need to learn more about how to maintain a professional decorum. It is unlikely that I will ever have the chance to know someone like Aemond Targaryen on a deeper level.

Smiling, she stared at his name on the paper for a moment. Of all the words she had ever written, those were two she never thought she would find in her personal journal. Ignoring the flock of butterflies taking flight in her chest, she continued -

I'm just an employee. A small cog in the grand machinery of his professional life. Why would he pay any attention to me?

She frowned at her own musings, closing her journal with a sigh. Glancing at her phone one last time, she noticed the emails from both teams in her inbox. Emails that were a reminder of her role as a professional. She was there to work and forge a path to a career she aspired for.

The sky thundered outside, the sound interrupting the chain of her thoughts and bringing her back to her reality once again.

My first rain in King's Landing.

As the clouds began to pour, sleep gently flickered her eyes closed. Her mind, hanging between wakefulness and the subliminal, recalled a cherished memory from the past - her father telling her favorite bedtime story about a valiant Valyrian prince and his dragon, the largest in the world.

Two months ago.

"You need a drink," Criston Cole, Aemond’s best friend and his personal assistant, remarked pointing a finger at him as he entered his office. He dropped a file onto his cluttered desk, taking the chair across the table.

"It's ten in the morning," Aemond replied, sifting through the pile of documents scattered around, his frustration palpable.

"Your face says it's ten at night."

Aemond sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. Criston chuckled, pulling out a cigarette and offering it to him, who accepted reluctantly. Criston placed one between his teeth too, lighting the cigarettes for both. Taking a long drag, both men leaned back in their chairs.

"This project is vital. It has to work. We have it to get renewed for two more seasons," Aemond said, exhaling a thick plume of smoke through his nose.

"Everything will be alright."

"As long as my uncle sits on the board, nothing will be alright," Aemond muttered, his gaze drifting back to the mess on his desk.

"Why do you worry so much? Your mother and I are doing the best we can."

"That's not enough!” Aemond's voice rose as he slapped the table, causing a few papers to flutter. "Where's Aegon? Why isn't he in the office? I have rehearsals; I shouldn't be doing his work." He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray and stood up abruptly. "Call him right now!"

"Aemond, calm down," Criston said, his concern evident in his voice.

"And this..this pile of papers - why is it on my desk?" Aemond swiped the files off his desk in a fit of rage. "Where are my scripts? Where is the report on the CGI budget?"

One of the folders slid to the edge of the table, its contents spilling out. A document with a photograph of a young woman caught Aemond's eye. Instinctively, he picked it up.

"Do I have to do the hiring too now?” His tone softened a notch as he examined the document - a resume, “Be an HR consultant too?"

The name on the document read - Inara Maegyr. Bachelor of Medicine. Diploma in Makeup and Prosthetic arts.

"I brought that file. It's a list of shortlisted medicos," Criston explained, stretching out a hand to take it from Aemond, who was still engrossed in the document. "And it wasn't for you to check, anyway."

"Hire her." Aemond handed over the resume he was holding and tossed the rest of the folder aside.

"What? Hire who?" Criston asked, his face contorted in confusion as he took the document from Aemond, who was already lighting another cigarette. "There are interviews and proper processes to follow before the project goes on the floor. I can't just hire anyone..” He paused to check the name on the resume.

“Inara Maegyr, what's with her?"

Aemond only exhaled curls of smoke in response.

"She seems... interesting," Criston said, raising an eyebrow at the document.

“Hire her, she looks..” Aemond fumbled, but quickly corrected the course, “I mean, she seems suitable for the job.” He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, watching the embers fade.

“We don't want to lose a talented candidate, do we?”

“Who's acting like an HR consultant now?” Criston teased him.

Aemond was reclining on a couch in his opulent bedroom, an unbuttoned shirt draping over his frame, a cigarette poised between his fingers. Wisps of smoke swirled around him, as he gazed up the ceiling, lost in his thoughts.

Thoughts of her.

Her innocent smile.

A smile that felt like a refreshing mist in the putridness of his life. A simple, unassuming gesture from her, yet it pierced through the shadows that often clouded his days.

The way her stunning, fire-colored eyes lit up when she approached him with her sweet demeanor, stayed with him.

Taking a deep drag from his cigarette, he ran a hand through his hair, as he recalled their brief interaction. A smile played on his lips, resurfacing the dimple on his cheek.

Ever since he had read her resume, he had been curious about the woman behind those impressive credentials. He had been eagerly anticipating meeting her in person.

But upon finding her so close, his words scrambled out of nervousness, and he couldn't even make eye contact with her - an unusual experience for him. Typically, people went speechless in front of him, not the other way around. He couldn't afford to shatter his composed exterior. He couldn't allow her to expose a vulnerability that he rarely acknowledged.

But now, he was certain that he had driven away the unstained, unadulterated warmth she emanated. Unintentionally, he had intimidated her.

He wasn't accustomed to being caught off guard by such intense emotions for someone he had just met.

It had been years since anyone had stirred any feelings within him.

Despite being surrounded by a bevy of attractive business women, actresses, and models at work, he had never felt this way about anyone else, the way he felt about -

“Inara,” surprised by the unfamiliar sensation of her name on his lips, he realised he had never voiced her name before.

Curiously, he picked up his phone to google the meaning of her name.

A ray of light.

An image of a ray of light piercing through the window of a darkened room closed for too long, surfaced in his mind.

Sky roared outside, pulling him back into his dimly lit room. The sound of heavy raindrops splattering and clattering against the sophisticated French windows lulled him to sleep.

As he closed his eyes, a soothing petrichor filled his retiring senses, wrapping him in a blanket of tranquility.

The sweet, mellow scent brought back the memory of the moment when their eyes first met.

-x-

Taglist - @zenka69

Part 4

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vibrantbirdy · 1 year ago

Note

Hey lovely!! Could you do a Cassian Andor x (f) reader? I’m a sucker for enemies to lovers. I like the whole “you annoy me and piss me off” relationship that ends up in a situation where they are stuck together for something and end up in a fight where they suddenly realize they have feelings! I love allowing creators to have their own space to create, so if you wanna do something else entirely, please feel free too!!

❤️ take care of yourself

Thank you SO much, this is a great request! I am a sucker for enemies to lovers too. I hope you don't mind, but I had a similar Cassian request from Anon at the same time about Cassian x Reader having to go undercover to Canto Bight as a couple which I thought would work well with yours so I merged them. (Anon, I also hope you don't mind the merging and that you can find this ok as I don't know if/how I can reply to two asks in the same post?)

Also, I want to thank everyone who has interacted with my writing so far.

Requests for Character x Reader fics are currently open in my Asks. Please read the guidelines first. Keep 'em coming.

-Birdy

Title: Charade Fandom: Star Wars Setting: Between Andor and Rogue One Genres: Sci-fi; Romance; Enemies to lovers; Action/adventure; Fluff Warnings: Moderate sexuality; moderate swearing; mild violence/peril; brief mentions of loss of family/friends by Reader. Pairing: Cassian Andor x Female Reader Chapters: 1/1 (Complete) Word Count: approx 10k (oops)

Summary: You and Captain Cassian Andor have to negotiate your personal differences and difficult history when you are both assigned to go on an undercover operation to the Galaxy's playground for the super-rich, Canto Bight, as a married couple.

Prologue

Your first mission as a spy for the Rebel Alliance has taken you to Carida. The objective; to infiltrate and sabotage the Imperial Naval Yard there then get out as quickly and quietly as possible.

As it turns out, the mission is doomed from the outset. An Imperial mole who somehow dug their way into the very heart of Rebel Command on Yavin 4 has alerted the Empire to your plans.

Your team of six hardly made it five kilometers from the rust-bucket of a ship Rebel Leadership had assigned to you when you were intercepted by an Imperial patrol.

The firefight was brief. The Stormtroopers were green, even more so than you. You wondered with a pang of unexpected sympathy whether they'd come fresh from the Imperial Academy which was also based on Carida. There were far more seasoned combatants amongst your own unit and the fight was over before it had really began.

Still, that's when you'd lost poor Lily to a Trooper's blaster bolt. You're not even sure he was aiming at her. She'd fallen against you and you'd twisted your ankle as you'd spun to the ground following a futile attempt to hold her upright as if that would negate the fatal injury she'd just sustained.

Now, as you limp up the ridge of the hill you feel a swell of relief as you see that you are almost back to the clearing where the ship is stowed. But as you catch a glimpse of the hunk of old metal, you realise with horror that you are not out of the woods yet.

The Empire uses decrepit shuttles just like this one for for training cadets at the Academy. That's why High Command had insisted you take it - to blend in. You'd nicknamed it Tenacity because the old girl just wouldn't die and the name had stuck.

The ancient vessel doesn't do anything quickly until it's up in the air. Then she's sharp as a razor. But she has a complicated manual override for emergency take-offs whereby the crew need pump fuel round the engines a few times using an externally stowed generator.

Good for training Imperial cadets for problem solving and how to make the best of old tech. Not so good for spies who need a quick exit.

You're the engineer, it should have been you who hooked the ship up to the generator. But with your injury you are too slow and so the others went on ahead to start without you. You are sure you gave correct and clear instructions, but in his panic, it looks like Rogdul has connected the ports up all wrong. Dangerously so.

Overhead, you hear the scream of Imperial TIE fighters and you launch yourself into the nearby undergrowth. You count them. Four. They are searching the valley for you. They pass, but they'll be back in less than a minute. It's impossible that they haven't spotted the ship in the forest clearing.

From your hiding place you hear the ship's engines burst into life. Inside, you imagine Rogdul and Anya carrying out hurried pre-flight checks. Baslin is probably taking up position in the gunner's hatch, hoping to see some action.

No, you think. Not like this.

But you can reach the ship and fix the problem. You know you can. The whole thing will blow if you don't and that's not an option.

You dart out towards the Tenacity, but someone intercepts you, slamming into you with a body tackle and dragging you roughly back to cover through the mud. Soon, you're seated up against them, your back pressed into their chest, their arms and legs wrapped around you like a vice.

It's Captain Cassian Andor, you realise, your superior officer and the lead operative on this mission. You'd completely forgotten that he was even further behind the hasty retreat than you, taking up the rear and keeping watch for more Imperial patrols on your tail.

You don't care who it is. You struggle and writhe furiously against him, desperate to get away and stop the impending disaster you can see unfolding before your eyes. But Andor holds you fast against him as if you were a child having a tantrum.

"Let me go, I can fix it!" you scream over the howl of the returning TIEs.

"You can't, it's too late!" Andor shouts back into your ear.

As if on cue, the generator connected to the side of the ship starts to spark wildly, just as you knew it would. You watch helplessly as the fuel cells hidden within the Tenacity ignite with a deafening bang and whoosh of flame as the ship goes up in a hellish fireball.

A second later, the TIEs make their second pass. There's no need for them to bother firing their weapons. The devastation from the explosion is catastrophic.

They do it anyway.

Two years later

You are on approach to Canto Bight, Cantonica's capital city - the Galaxy's playground for the wealthy.

Captain Cassian Andor is in the pilot's seat, following instructions from the flight control tower. You'll sit down in a moment, but right now, you are desperately trying to sort the sticking-up collar of his cream shirt which is made of expensive looking silk.

Irritated, he tries to bat your hand away, but you are persistent.

"Kriff's sake, Andor, just let me do it," you mutter.

"I'm not a child," he says petulantly, but he relents.

There. Now he looks the part in his fine clothes. He's tidied his short beard and moustache so that the stubble is cropped neatly to the sharp contours of his chiselled face. His dark brown hair is neatly parted at the side, although it's perhaps still a little long...

You don't look too shabby either, bedecked in a knee-length silk day dress of sky blue, accompanied by a cloak of dusky purple which is draped elegantly across your shoulders. The Rebellion went to great lengths to fund this operation and they certainly didn't skimp on the provision of suitable attire. It's essential that you fit in.

"I look fine, you look fine, stop fussing," Andor says dismissively, noticing as you smooth out a couple of annoying wrinkles in your dress and swish out the skirt to make sure the fabric is lying properly.

"I think you look lovely," K-2SO, Andor's droid and almost constant companion, pipes up from the co-pilot's chair, "and that Cassian looks like he's swallowed an Endor fire hornet."

"You don't think," Andor retorts, "That's just circuits misfiring randomly in your head..."

K-2 turns to you with a mechanical whirr, and if he had the ability to conjure expressions, this one would read:

See? I told you.

You stifle a laugh and drop down into the passenger seat behind the droid.

The first time you'd met the hulking re-programmed Imperial security droid had been that fateful day on Carida. You and Andor had shivered miserably in silence for hours by the wreckage of the Tenacity as the rain lashed down, making little difference to the fearsome fuel-accelerated flames which devoured the ship. The Empire, in their arrogance, didn't bother to send out a patrol to check the site.

Then, late into the night, K-2 had finally arrived in Cassian's own ship under cover of darkness. With your injured ankle having swollen to twice its usual size, the gargantuan droid had lumbered over, scooped you up, and carried you with surprising gentleness into the vessel. Ever since, you've always enjoyed his company and his sardonic wit.

Your relationship with Andor, on the other hand, has been tumultuous since its inception. He's always been frosty and stand-offish with you. You sometimes wonder if your presence reminds him of the disaster on Carida the way his does to you.

Whatever his reasoning, his uncompromising demeanour has always brought out your worst qualities when you're around him, especially your stubbornness and your dislike of being told what to do. You've never gone so far as insubordination under his command, but when you disagree with him, you have a unique knack for finding your own way to interpret his orders. This always has the infinitely satisfying effect of winding him up.

Anyway, this time won't be like Carida. And despite your personal differences, you and Andor have worked together successfully - though admittedly never harmoniously - many times since.

Your objective is simple enough. You're looking for a business man, Dreylan Balgo. He's not yet thirty, but he's the biggest supplier of Imperial weapons in the Galaxy. You need to obtain his biometric signature and transmit it back to Alliance High Command. They'll then use it to access the designs and blueprints of the weapons his company is designing for the Empire and eventually send agents in as factory workers to sabotage various key elements.

As Andor and K-2 make the final approach to Canto Bight you look out the window. Below you, the dark sea glitters and ahead, the shining spires of the beautiful city glow golden in the evening sun.

You close your eyes as a flash of a childhood memory dances across your brain. You came here with your parents once when you were nine or ten. That's partly why you've been chosen for this mission. You used to move in these circles.

K-2 drops the shuttle neatly on to the landing pad which juts out over the water.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," the droid quips as you exit.

It's winter on Cantonica. As you step out onto the platform, the breeze is chilly but pleasantly fresh and you can hear the steady crash of waves against the cliffs below you.

At the entrance to the structure, you pause a minute to take in the monolithic doors, ornately carved and inlaid with beautiful coloured glass which catches the light of the setting sun with dazzling beauty. The doors open and you and Andor step into the elaborate marble halls of Canto Bight's most luxurious resort as newlyweds Mr and Mrs Race Pax.

**************************************************

The suite you are staying in is as lavish as the rest of the place, but it is small. The coiffeurs of the Rebel Alliance do have their limits.

"What are you doing?" You ask, suddenly stopping your own unpacking to observe Andor throwing an assortment of pillows and blankets onto the ground.

"I'm taking the floor like a gentleman."

"Don't be stupid," you snort, "What if the maid comes in and sees this..." you gesture to the collection of blankets on the floor, searching for a fitting description "...gentleman's pillow fort?"

The most important thing on this mission is that your cover needs to be believable. And, perhaps tantamount to that, if Andor is tired, he'll be even grumpier than usual and you don't think you could deal with that.

He straightens and sighs, repeatedly slapping the cushion he has been plumping with unnecessary force.

One thing you and Andor have never been around each other is shy. Having spent weeks at a time together in miserable, hastily erected camps, cramped transports, and underground bunkers in the service of the Alliance, the necessity of living in close quarters with him stamped that out quick. You've learned to move in each other's personal space with ease and usually without any awkwardness, so you can't fathom why he's making a meal of it now.

He looks at you defiantly for a moment longer before accepting defeat.

"Fine," he says, as he starts to pick up the elements of his makeshift camp bed and throwing them back on the bed, "Fine, but if you snore, I won't hesitate to kick you out."

"If I snore?!"

That was rich.

*******************************************

You and Andor are attending one of Canto Bight's seemingly infinite evening soirees for the rich and powerful. A colourful sea of people in lavish dress are engaged in polite conversation and enjoying expensive beverages in one of the grandest ballrooms you've ever seen.

Dreylan Balgo is here, somewhere. Tonight is a chance to observe his behaviour, get to know his habits and make an initial introduction if possible. Anything that could help you create an opportunity to obtain his biometrics over the next few days.

You are wearing a teal halter-neck gown, a drink in one hand while the other rests elegantly on top of Andor's arm. The silk of his plush evening jacket is smooth under your fingertips and you absent-mindedly fuss with it as you scan the crowd for your target.

Someone says your name. Your real name.

Andor stiffens next to you.

Trying to keep your composure you turn and relief floods through you as you realise it's one of your mother's oldest friends, Lady Sen Prya. It's been years since you've seen her and she must be in her eighties by now, but she hasn't changed one bit. She is adorned in the most grandiose yellow satin gown you've ever seen, complete with matching gloves. Her long white hair falls, twisted in an elaborate braid, all the way down to her waist.

Quickly, you take her gloved hand and squeeze it gently, a subtle message you hope she can read.

"Oh I'm sorry you must be mistaken," you say politely and introduce yourself as Mrs Pax.

Understanding flickers across Prya's face. She always was sharp as a knife and time doesn't seem to have dulled that characteristic one jot.

"Ah of course, child. Forgive me," she says tactfully with all the grace and ease you remember from your childhood, "You look very like a dear old friend of mine. It's nice to meet you. I am Lady Sen Prya."

She reaches a hand up and touches your cheek affectionately with a twinkle in her golden eyes. Then, she reaches out to Andor who brings her hand up to his mouth and kisses it gently.

"Race Pax, it's a pleasure," he says, and there is a genuine warmth in his voice.

He appears to have relaxed somewhat and you are sure it's because he probably recognises Prya's name. She has been funding various elements of the Rebellion for years.

"Now, is there anyone you need an introduction to, before I retire to bed like the old woman I am?"

Prya stresses introduction as if its a code word. And it is.

You look up at Andor questioningly. You hate to ask his permission for anything, but he is the senior operative here. He nods once in ascent.

"Dreylan Balgo," you say.

Lady Prya's eyes light up and you can tell that she is delighted to learn who your indented mark is.

"Well then, follow me, young lovers."

Andor gives that rare smile of his, the one you see so infrequently which reaches all the way up to his eyes where they crinkle at the corners. He likes Prya. Everyone does. That's what makes her so dangerous for the Empire.

You wind through the crowd, following Prya as if she is golden star leading you to your destination. You're suddenly nervous and although you'd never admit it, there is something comforting about how Andor's large hand entwines with your own as he follows your lead through the busy party.

"Dreylan! My boy!" Prya's voice is clear as crystal and cuts through the party hubbub with ease.

Balgo turns from a conversation he is having with several other men. He is a handsome man, dressed in an evening suit of black velvet. He is tall and elegant with piercing blue eyes and a mop of sandy blonde curls.

"Ah! Lady Prya! What a delight to see you," he says gregariously, stooping low to kiss the older woman's cheek.

"And you, my lad," she replies with gracious ease, "Now, I want you to meet a couple of newly weds, Mr and Mrs Pax. I'm certain young Pax here would be interested in discussing business with you boys, although I, for one, find it all very dull."

There is a ripple of smug, amused laughter from the circle of men, and you join in only because you know Prya could negotiate most of these idiots out of any of business asset of theirs she chose to.

Balgo turns his attention to you first, appraising you thoroughly before taking your hand and kissing it with an elaborate flourish. You let out a silly little laugh, ensuring your voice carries an appropriate blend of affluence and air headedness.

Less than a minute you've been in this man's company and you can already read him like a holo novel.

He then greets Andor with boisterous joviality.

"Congratulations, Pax, what a stunning creature you have caught in your net."

Andor chuckles amiably, shaking Balgo's hand.

"It's good to meet you," he says warmly.

This time, his smile doesn't quite reach his eyes and you notice that his hand, which has been sitting lightly round your waist, shifts down to just under your hip.

Lady Prya retires to bed soon after, flashing you a wink and a dazzling smile as she sweeps from the room, an ageless vision in yellow.

The conversation and drinks flow. All night, you sense Balgo's eyes on you. Alliance High Command don't officially approve of so-called "honey-traps," and neither do you, but you see no harm in cultivating Balgo's delusion if it opens another window of opportunity. You don't discourage him, directly meeting the furtive glances he casts your way when he thinks Andor isn't looking.

Throughout the evening Andor proves why he is so good at his job. His ability to observe and imitate behaviour is uncanny. He adopts with ease that careless, raucous affectation that only young, wealthy men seem to possess. He hasn't taken more than a few sips of his wine, but he mirrors Balgo's increasingly boisterous body language and bawdy humour expertly.

By the end of the night the two are stomping around the dwindling party with their arms slung around each other's shoulders, swaying and laughing and singing like idiots.

The night has been a success. You've created a rapport with Balgo.

*******************************************

"Prya was a friend of your family's?" Andor's voice comes unexpectedly from the darkness, "What happened to them?"

It's very late - or early, depending on how your look at it - and you and Andor have just fallen, exhausted, into bed.

You are resting on your left side, as always, and you hear him roll over beside you, so that he is looking at your back.

You are surprised by how accurately Andor has read into the situation with so little information. You don't see any harm in telling him.

"My father owned an agricultural engineering works. One day the Empire came to his factory and asked him to design and build components for some machine they were building, probably a weapon. He refused. They executed him on the spot and took the factory anyway. I did my best, but we struggled and my mother died a few years after of a broken heart. That's when I left to join the Rebellion."

Andor shuffles, the bed shifting beneath you both and you can tell that he's propped himself up on his elbow. You feel his eyes boring into the back of your head.

"You've never told me that before."

"You never bothered to ask," you reply defensively, "I know what you think, what you all think. That I'm a rich brat who ran off to join the Rebellion just to piss off her wealthy parents."

There's a silence.

"Turns out you're only half right..." you finish with a rather bitter self-deprecating chuckle.

To your surprise, Andor puts a comforting hand on your shoulder. You hesitate for a moment, before you reach across your body to place your hand on top of his, just for a second.

"Goodnight, Cassian," you say.

You rarely use his first name and it feels odd, but not unnatural on your tongue.

"Goodnight."

He rolls back over and is soon snoring softly. You don't fall asleep for a long while, not until you hear the birds begin their morning chorus and the light of dawn starts to creep through the open window with the sea breeze.

********************************************************

You and Andor spend the next morning trying to locate Balgo but he's nowhere to be found. You suspect he is probably in his bed nursing a very sore head.

The last place you try is the Fathier racetrack, although you know there are no races on today. You are glad. You can't stand to see these magnificent animals forced to run like that.

Even so, you are unable to refrain from grabbing Andor's hand in excitement and dragging him over to the nearest pen where a mother and foal are resting in a patch of sunshine.

"A baby," you find yourself saying, stupidly.

Andor laughs quietly at the ridiculous, breathless joy in your voice. You wonder if he's making fun of you, but when you turn to him his eyes are sparkling with a mischievous light.

He gestures to a nearby handler, adopting Pax's air of arrogant entitlement with frightening ease.

"My wife would like to see the animal."

"Of course, sir."

The handler coaxes the foal over and it's tall enough already to reach other the fence. You pat the creature on its nose and between its ridiculously long ears and it nuzzles sweetly into your hand.

"Mr Pax?" You say as you turn to Andor and realise he's hovering a few feet back from the fence.

You gesticulate to him to come over. When else will he get the opportunity to interact with such an animal?

"Oh no, I can see fine from here," he replies with a shake of his head.

Surely not, you think, and you feel your mouth twist into a devilish smirk.

"Are you scared?" You tease.

You sidle up to him and entwine your arm in his before stretching up to whisper into his ear so that only he can hear you.

"Captain Andor?"

Unable to resist your direct challenge he offers you his hand with a resigned, slightly nervous grin. You take it, leading him back to the fence. You guide his palm up to the baby Fathier's nose and the creature sniffs it curiously. You then press it gently against the animal's long forehead. When you let go, Andor continues to stroke the animal softly, his face lit up with an expression of childish wonder.

"Thank you, husband," you say when you both turn to leave.

He gives you a subtle wink and you feel a sudden rush of something close to fondness for him.

********************************************

That afternoon is spent sneaking around the resort's service corridors. You are right at the top of the building and the corridors are narrow and low. It's ridiculously hot and you feel stupid carrying out serious espionage in yet another one of the seemingly endless supply of dresses you've been provided. This one is a horrible pink colour that clings all over and you hate it which is why you've chosen it for this dirty, sweaty work. You know you need to wear something suitable for Canto Bight's grand halls in case anyone sees you on your way to or from the job, but it just feels so unnatural.

Hopefully this shouldn't take too long. All you need to do is wire in a small signal booster to the resort's communications lines. Then, when you obtain Balgo's biometric signature, the data pad can send a transmission to a commandeered, disused Republic satellite to confirm that the sample has been collected successfully.

Actually transmitting the scrambled data to the Rebel base on Yavin 4 needs considerably more power which means, at some point, you and Andor are going to have to hike out to Cantonica's main transmitter mast and send the signal manually from there.

You'd flown past the huge pylon on your way in to land at the resort. It's a monumental thing and you feel a rush of nausea at the very thought of having to climb it...but that's a problem for another day, you decide.

Your head is buried in a control panel, and you're trying to explain to Andor why you need to use a slightly different width of cable than originally planned but he interrupts you mid-flow.

"Can you do it, or can't you?"

"I can do it," you snap back.

"Then just do it, I don't care how."

Charming as ever, the morning's hard won truce between you apparently forgotten. He's nervous and so are you, so you try not to hold it against him. He just wants to get out of here quickly.

There's a sound, and with horror, you realise it's the service elevator doors hissing open. A stern male voice follows soon after.

"Lars, If you're up here slouching again, I'm going to dock your pay."

You and Andor both freeze, staring at each other like Loth cats caught in the headlights of a speeder. Then, without warning he grabs you at the back of your knee, hitching your leg up to rest on his hip, his hand travelling further up the underside of your thigh and underneath your dress as he shoves you against the wall and pushes his body firmly against yours. The other hand flies up to your face, his thumb tracing the line of your cheekbone.

Your gasp of surprise is muffled as he crashes his lips hard against yours. It takes you only a millisecond to understand what he's doing and you kiss him back, twisting your fingers tightly through the locks of dark hair at the back of his head.

At this, a soft groan resonates in his throat and you are almost certain this is unintended. You feel a flash of satisfaction that you've managed to affect him in such a way, then scold yourself for being unable to refrain from point scoring with him, even now.

"Get out of here," Andor growls at the hapless employee, pretending he has only just noticed the man's presence.

His voice is low and husky. As he speaks, you feel his fingertips press into the flesh your thigh. Suddenly, the combination of his proximity and his heady, masculine, familiar scent is overwhelming, and you feel something hot and fierce coil in the pit of your abdomen.

Andor - Pax - has broken away from your lips to berate the man, but he hardly deigns to turn his head to look at the unfortunate employee. You take a moment to study the fine details of his face up close. His pupils are dilated, making his dark eyes gleam like midnight. His nostrils flare slightly with heightened breathing. An uncharacteristic blush is travelling up his neck into his cheeks. You can feel his heart slamming against his chest and your own.

"Oh, uhh... yes...of course," the poor employee sounds terribly embarrassed and all the previous managerial authority has vanished entirely from his voice.

"My apologies sir..."

The man actually stands on his tiptoes and cranes his neck to see your face through the tousled mess you've made of Andor's hair before addressing you directly with a courteous nod of his head.

"Madam."

You raise your eyebrows at him politely and give him a ridiculous little wave with your free hand, the one that's not woven through Andor's hair.

You hear the employee blundering off back to the service elevator and the machinery clunks as the doors close and he disappears.

Andor's forehead is gracing your own and neither you nor he move for a moment. It's just long enough to catch the slow glint of recognition in each other's eyes that something new has passed between you and you both know it.

"Sorry," he mumbles as he finally breaks away, running a hand through his hair as if to sweep away the feel of your fingers there, "I didn't have time to ask nicely."

"It's fine," you say, smoothing your stupid dress down and clearing your throat, "Good thinking."

He leans against the opposite wall, arms crossed, as you return to your work in silence.

*******************************************

Evening has fallen and Andor and Balgo are talking animatedly at the bar. The resort is hosting another of its grand parties. You sit with Lady Prya at a nearby table. You don't talk about your new life and she doesn't ask, but the conversation is easy and comfortable and you feel a rush of gratitude that your paths have crossed again.

Once Balgo has left to mingle with other guests, you give Prya an apologetic smile and cross over to the bar where you drape yourself around Andor's shoulders. You lean in to kiss him on the cheek. To anyone else, these merely look to be the actions of a young couple.

In reality, you are providing cover as Andor works quickly with Balgo's empty glass. Earlier, he'd lined the outside of the receptacle with a special gel that picks up biometric data. Once settled on a surface, it is almost imperceptible to the touch.

Andor attaches, then tears away the transfer strip from the glass and quickly places it down on the data pad's receiver. A rather sad and weary boop from the device confirms that it hasn't picked up Balgo's fingerprints.

"Kriff," Andor curses quietly in frustration, a muscle working in his jaw.

"Give it to me."

"What?"

"Give it," you hiss.

Uncertainly, Andor passes the various components of the device to you. You snatch them from his hand, shoving the bits and bobs into your pockets and stride away before he can stop you. The satin of your dress swishes a melody to the click of your heels. You hear Andor swear under his breath.

As you walk, your eyes scan the room, searching for your target. There. A flash of golden hair at the other side of the room. You stalk Balgo through the crowd, waiting for the right moment.

You make your approach, taking out a small mirror from your pocket and quickly squeezing a blob of the clear transfer gel onto your finger before making a performance of patting the strange substance on your mouth like lipstick. You snap the mirror closed and move in for the kill.

"Oh Mr Balgo, I am so sorry!" you exclaim, feigning embarrassment as you collide with his shoulder, jolting him arm so that he spills red wine all down the front of his pristine, white suit jacket.

"Please, Mrs Pax, it's no matter, really," he says as he stays your pawing hands and swoops down to greet you with a peck you on the cheek.

"I really am sorry, Dreylan, I will pay for the damage."

"Nonsense," he scoffs amicably, his chest visibly puffing out as you address him familiarly by his first name, "Now, where has your husband of yours got to? The fool surely hasn't let you out of his sight in that dress?"

Balgo is right, it is a nice dress. Your favourite so far in fact. It is tailored in beautiful crimson satin with a full skirt, off the shoulder sleeves, and a plunging neckline.

"Oh, he's around somewhere, I'm sure."

You lean in and whisper in his ear.

"But he's not here."

He smirks back at you and you see his icy blue eyes light up.

"Shall we get some air on the balcony?" He suggests.

Well, what an unexpected turn of events, you think sarcastically as you accept the proposal with an external show of flirtatious grace.

Out on the ballroom's grandiose veranda with Balgo, you look across Cantonica's seemingly endless, dark waters. The sea breeze is cold, and the businessman drapes his jacket round your shoulders. You laugh at the right times, interject an asinine comment here and there as Balgo talks about business, and allow him to explain things to you that you already know without complaint.

When the timing feels apt, and the balcony is otherwise deserted, you reach up and plant a kiss on his lips. He returns it, placing his hands on your hips. Balgo is attractive enough, there's no doubt about that, and the kiss is far from unpleasant... but it's only a means to an end. There's no passion to it, and you can't help but compare it against the ardent fervour of Andor's embrace. The heat of it.

As you pull back from Balgo with a suitably flushed smile, the gossamer curtains behind him shift in the breeze and over his shoulder you catch a glimpse of Andor across the cavernous ballroom.

He's so far away, but you see him clear as day. His eyes are searing holes in Balgo's back before meeting yours with a look of disdain. He downs his drink and slams the glass on the bar's marble counter-top, stalking off towards the elevator.

You suddenly feel a pang of irrational guilt which makes you furious with him. You're doing your job. The one he failed to do.

Balgo's self-satisfied look of victory does nothing for your vexed and flustered disposition. He offers to go and source a drink for you both. Keeping your composure - you are a spy after all - you smile sweetly at him and agree.

When he is gone, you make sure no one else is around before you take out the transfer paper from your pocket and subtly dab it on your lips. Surreptitiously, you whip the data pad out of your other pocket - thank the stars you'd insisted on dresses with pockets - and press the paper against the reader.

You wait, visualising what the signal might look like if it was something tangible and visible. A little bolt of lightning, perhaps, arcing to the closest service hatch, climbing its way up wires and cables, escaping out into the cold night and up into orbit and the decrepit Republic satellite.

Finally, the device gives you a cheerful bleep and lights up green.

Success.

You'd like to see Balgo's smug face fall when he returns to find you've disappeared, but you don't want this to go any further than necessary. You've got what you need and your sudden absence can easily be explained away as a young wife's crisis of conscience. You leave his jacket on a nearby chair and make your way up to your suite.

*****************************************

When you get back to the room, you can practically feel the heat radiating off Andor as he rips his shirt over his head dramatically in the process of undressing for bed.

Trying to ignore his silent seething, you turn away from him and lift your hair away from the nape of your neck. He automatically moves behind you to help you unzip your dress and, despite his clear agitation, his hands are gentle. The red gown drops to the floor, leaving you standing in your flimsy under-slip.

You turn back to look at Andor, taking in the familiar outline of his body. He's not a huge man, but the muscles are strong and taut in his torso, back and arms. Littered here and there are scars, testament to a hard life lived dangerously. The moonlight streaming through the bedroom window gives his tan skin an ethereal glow and illuminates the sharp, handsome features of his face.

It's not that you don't find each other attractive. You both know that there's always been some unspoken tension between you. But the tempestuousness of your personal and working relationship has always prevented you from falling into anything that might be a mistake.

You are suddenly keenly aware of the obviousness your own form as your underdress clings to the curves and planes of your body. You can sense Andor's eyes roaming across it in a way you're sure they never have before.

You think - maybe - something changed with that kiss you shared this afternoon. An embrace which began as a charade and ended as something else.

"That was a stupid, reckless, dangerous thing to do!" he finally explodes, interrupting your reverie and bringing you back down to reality with a thud.

"It was a calculated risk," you retort, furious with him and internally embarrassed by your silly romantic notions.

"And," you stretch across to the nearby dresser to pick up the data pad where Balgo's biometric data is safely stored to brandish it under Andor's nose, "And it worked."

"In case you'd forgotten, Balgo thinks you're here with your husband..."

"That's why it worked!" You exclaim, "By the Force, men know so little about their own species..."

"You could have blown our cover, the whole operation!"

That riles you. Why can't he just congratulate you on a job well done? You've just saved this damn operation. You have what you need now. All you need to do is transmit the data and you can both get out of here.

"I know what this is," you say, your voice rising in chorus with your anger.

"Oh please, please enlighten me."

"You're jealous."

There's a heavy silence.

"Jealous?!" Andor scoffs finally, but the strength of his conviction has faded from his voice, "Of what?"

"You can't stand that I kissed him."

Andor steps towards you, brows furrowed, eyes alight with something that's not quite anger.

"He's welcome to you," he seethes, "The last thing I need is some highly strung rich girl playing at being a spy."

The words sting, especially after you opened up to him about your parents the other night. Even as the vague idea of restraint flashes through your mind, impulsion compels you to raise a hand to strike him across the face.

He catches you by the wrist as you lash out, pulling you even closer to him so that his sharp nose is almost touching yours.

"And so what if I am?" He continues and the change in direction is so unexpected that you are rendered speechless.

His tone is low and dangerous and his deep, brown eyes are wild, roaming your face desperately for an answer that never comes.

"What if I am jealous? What if I don't want his filthy, Imperial hands all over you? So what?"

Andor's face suddenly softens, his eyebrows knitting together in an expression of genuine turmoil. It's a display of vulnerability you've never seen from him before. His grip on your wrist loosens slightly but he doesn't let go.

When he speaks again, his voice is barely a whisper.

"What difference does it make to you? Ever since Carida... You despise me."

It's not true, you suddenly realise. It's never been true. Not really.

You want to tell him you've never blamed him for what happened on Carida. The actions of the mole? Not his fault. The failure of that sorry excuse for a ship? Not him either. Somewhere along the way, your perception of him became warped and refracted through the prism of your own feelings of guilt.

You know he saved your life that day. He must have gone through hell in the aftermath too, dragged up in front of various different elements of High Command to explain why only two of his six operatives made it back alive over and over and over again.

More than this, you want to explain that while you were kissing Balgo tonight, you were thinking only of him. You want to say how when you took a shower earlier and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror you'd seen the faint, red imprints of his fingertips still lingering like little tattoos on your skin and that you hope they never fade.

But you're just so angry with him for always having to be such a stubborn, patronising, hard-nosed bastard. So you say none of these things.

You know how much it must have taken for him to admit feelings for you, no matter how clumsy and ill-timed the execution. This man who always holds his cards so close to his chest has shown you his hand. He's given you ammunition and all you can think of in this moment is shooting him down with it.

"That's right," you say, leaning in close and whispering spitefully into his ear, "I despise you Cassian Andor."

You regret it immediately. Andor drops your wrist as if he's been burned. As he steps away from you, he looks completely lost. His eyes are cast down at the floor, full of humiliation and hurt. By the time they return to your face, they have darkened like storm clouds.

"Then, I'm glad we understand each other."

You open your mouth to say something, to take back your words and undo the damage you've wrought with your temper. Nothing comes out.

As Andor turns away, you reach out for him, try to catch him by the elbow. He shrugs you off angrily and storms out of the room.

He doesn't come back until late. You pretend to be asleep as he quietly slips into the bed beside you.

********************************************

When dusk falls the next evening, and with Balgo's biometric stored safely on the data pad in your pocket, you and Andor set out for Cantonica's main transmitter.

You want to use the journey time to explain yourself, to apologise to him and admit your own feelings. But you are so ashamed of your careless words the night before that you don't even know how to begin.

Continuing the trend of the day, you walk the ten kilometers together in almost complete silence, trudging in single file along the rocky coastline.

Even so, being out in nature and away from the city feels almost healing to you. Most tourists only see the rugged countryside of Cantonica from the confines of a shuttle. It has a wild, mountainous, windswept type of beauty that you find exhilarating. After days stuck inside the gilded cage of Canto Bight, it is wonderful to be out in the elements, even if it is rather cold and damp.

Night has decsended by the time you reach the transmitter. It is set precariously on the cliff edge, so close to the tumultuous waters below, it seems like a freak wave could wash it away at any moment.

It looks even more imposing than you remember. A huge durasteel spike with a narrow, fragile looking caged ladder stretching up into the sky leading to a high metal gangway which looks just as ancient.

You go first, and as you climb higher, your hands and feet start to feel fuzzy and your breathing becomes rapid, escaping through your lips in short, sharp pants. You've never been good with heights.

The icy wind starts to whip unpleasantly around you and you grip the ladder fiercely with each laboured step. The damp air has made the metal slick and you gasp as your boot slips on one of the rungs.

You catch yourself before you fall, but even so, you are relieved when Andor comes up behind you and positions himself so that his solid chest presses reassuringly against your back as you take a moment to steady yourself.

"Take your time," he says and his tone is gentle, "You're ok."

You nod and exhale deeply. Steeling yourself, you continue your ascent. You can do this.

You finally reach the top of the ladder and crawl up onto the round platform which encircles the pylon of the transmitter to provide access to where the mechanics of the structure are stored.

You think for a moment that this experience is going to be marginally better than the climb up the rickety ladder. That foolish hope is soon proven mistaken. The durasteel grating beneath your feet feels precarious. There are rusted gaps in the metal here and there and your stomach flips every time you look down. The wind is stronger up here, wild and blustery, and you feel horrendously vulnerable. You just want to get the job done and get down from this death trap as soon as possible.

Andor helps you lift the heavy panel off the front of the control box. You sigh with relief. It's a standard set up, one you've seen hundreds of times before and it's easy to bypass. You set to work infiltrating the system and once you're done, you wait in suspense as the data pad blinks text at you.

TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING, TRANSMITTING....

TRANSMISSION SENT.

"It's gone!"

Instinctively, you turn to flash a smile of triumph towards Andor, and you are relieved when one corner of his mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly in return. You wonder if, on the way back to the city, you might find the courage to try and make amends for your rough words the previous night.

Your hopeful thoughts are rudely interrupted when, without warning, the gangway you are standing on shifts violently under your feet. The whole structure lets out an ominous and eerie metallic groan and you realise with dread that the platform is tearing itself away from the pylon.

You have no doubt that you and Andor are the first people up here in years, and that your presence has disturbed the structure from its hibernation and reminded it of its decrepit, fragile state.

You grab at one of the rungs affixed to the main pylon intended for servicing the internal mechanisms, but Andor is too far away to reach. As the walkway peels away, he falls with it. The huge hunk of metal stops suddenly at a right angle to the structure, and the now horizontal guard railings catch Andor as he slams into them with a sickening clang.

There's a brief moment of relief when you think the worst is over, but then the structure jerks violently again as another metal bolt fails, and it tilts just enough to send Andor somersaulting over the top of the railing.

Desperately, he scrambles for something to purchase, and he manages to grasp at the guard rail with the fingertips of one hand as he rolls over it, leaving him dangling helplessly over the roaring water below.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself drop down towards him and your body hits the metal railings agonisingly hard. You ignore the pain and, praying that the railings will hold you, you scrabble to grab at Andor, your hands clutching at a handful of material at the front of his shirt just as his own grip fails.

Unexpectedly finding himself suspended in the air, Andor looks up at you in abject surprise. He assesses the situation and his eyes lock on to yours in alarm as he understands what you've done.

Your shoulders feel like they are slowly pulling themselves out of their sockets and your fingers, numb and white, are twisted up painfully in the material of Andor's shirt. You can't breathe properly, the air in your lungs being crushed out of you as you are pressed into the railings by the pull of Andor's bodyweight below you.

You are terrified that at any moment the guardrail will collapse and you'll both plummet together into the angry sea which seems to wait with open maw like a predator beneath you. But you don't know what else to do, and you refuse to let him fall, so you cling on to him in utter desperation.

"Let go!" Andor shouts up at you, and you can tell it's an order.

"No!" You yell back.

Suddenly, the front of his shirt rips and he drops away so that he is now hanging, almost literally, by a thread. The abrupt and unexpected motion causes you to lose balance and you have to let go of him with one hand to steady yourself on the railings and stop yourself from almost flipping over them to join him.

Andor's eyes are wild and fraught now, flicking between the failing structure and your overwrought face.

"Damn you," he growls with renewed urgency, "let go!"

Your whole body is screaming at you to do as he says, but you won't. Tears sting your eyes, whether from pain or fear, you're not sure. You clench your jaw and shake your head at him.

Andor snarls with effort as he reaches behind him and into his back pocket, pulling out his flip knife. He wrenches it open with his teeth.

"Don't you dare, you stupid bastard!" you scream down at him as you realise with what he intends to do.

He looks at you for one final moment and the world seems to stop. His expression is completely open and readable to you, perhaps for the very first time. His dark eyes glint with a fear that you suddenly realise is as much for you as it is for himself.

Then, he sets his face into a mask of grim determination and with one swift motion, he severs the flimsy cord of fabric tying you together and cuts himself loose.

"Cassian!" The vague outline of his name is torn ragged from your throat in an incomprehensible shriek of despair.

Helpless, you watch as he falls, limbs flailing, down, down, down, until he hits the water below with a sickening crash and disappears into the black, unforgiving waves.

*********************************************

Unbeknownst to you, the Rebel Alliance have successfully received Dreylan Balgo's biometric signature and K-2SO is already on his way to extract you and Cassian from Canto Bight.

By his calculations, K-2 should reach Cantonica in twelve hours, twenty-nine minutes and seven seconds. Plenty of time to mull over the conversation he'd had with Murdo the flight technician before he'd left the hanger.

"Maybe this time, eh K-2?" Murdo had quipped as he unhooked the re-fuelling nozzle from Cassian's ship.

"Maybe this time, what?"

"Maybe this time they'll finally have admitted their feelings for each other."

"That is a ridiculous observation," K-2 had said confidently, "They dislike each other immensely."

Murdo had laughed and made a comment about the droid having a lot to learn about human relationships which K-2 had thought was quite rude.

But as he barrels through the hyperspace lanes in Cassian's ship towards the Outer Rim and Cantonica, K-2 has time to mull things over.

He thinks about how on missions when the unit has to set up camp on some remote world, Cassian always leaves your meat rations on the fire just a little longer than everyone else's because he knows you like them so crispy that they're almost burnt.

Then he thinks about how whenever he and Cassian return from a mission you're not assigned to, yours is always the first face the droid spots in the hanger when they arrive back, and that once your eyes land on Cassian, you always walk away without a word, seemingly satisfied.

Now that K-2 really uses his circuits to process it, Murdo's conclusion doesn't seem quite so ridiculous after all.

"Humans," the droid muses to himself with an exasperated shake of his mechanical head.

**********************************************

Somehow, you manage to descend the transmitter, climbing and clambering down the structure in a daze. You don't bother even trying to mask your shouts of distress and frustration as your feet and hands slip on the blasted, kriffing, cursed metal all the way down.

You stagger the ten kilometers back to Canto Bight in something resembling a fugue state. When you reach the resort, you sneak through the back entry port you and Andor left through and wind your way through the maze of service passages and elevators back to your suite.

You are as bedraggled looking as you are distraught and you are glad that the corridors are as deserted as they were when you departed. You don't feel you could negotiate your way out of anything right now, despite all your training.

Once you've climbed out of your damp and dirty clothes you fall into bed. Andor's absence beside you is a stark, raw reminder of what's just happened and you finally allow yourself to cry. Somehow, at some point, as you wallow in your anguish, fatigue takes over and you fall into a torrid sleep.

When you awake, it's still dark and you have the distinct impression that you're being watched. There's someone else in the room with you. You bolt upright and almost cry out as your eyes take in the silhouette of a person in the moonlight.

The ghost of Cassian Andor is standing at the foot of the bed.

Except he's not a spectre, you realise. His outline, though swaying, is solid. He's flesh and blood. He's alive.

Once you've recover from the initial shock, you don't think you've ever felt relief like it in your whole life. You leap up out of the bed and fly to him, just as he starts to crumple to the floor. You grab for him, but too weak to moderate his own movements, he drops like a stone and his momentum pulls you crashing down on top of him.

He's all sand and salt and seawater and he is shivering violently. His eyes are heavy, like he's struggling to keep them open. You touch his face and his skin ice cold. His clothes are wet through and you're suddenly struck by the urgency of the situation. You need to get him warm. Now.

With great effort, you manage to half drag, half shove Andor towards the shower room. He's so exhausted and disoriented that even this appears to be an insurmountable task for him.

When you finally get him there, you bundle him into the shower, fully clothed. He slumps against the wall as you turn the warm water on. You start peeling off the sodden, freezing layers of his clothing.

He hisses through his teeth as you remove what remains of his shredded shirt and you see that the skin on his torso and back is blossoming here and there in vibrant shades of black and blue. You're not surprised, a fall from that height, these are probably bruises from hitting the water hard. You try to be more gentle.

Once he's free of all his clothing, you slide down behind him so that you are against the wall, and he's sat between your legs with his back pressed against your torso. You guide him to bring his knees up to his chest and he wraps his arms around himself pliantly, curling into a tight ball. He's still shaking uncontrollably.

You ignore your own discomfort as the warm water plasters your nightdress to your body like a second skin.

Trying desperately to aid the shower in its work of returning some of his body heat to him, you rub his back, his arms, and his chest vigorously. Every so often he rests his head on the bridge he's created with his forearms across his knees and you have to coax him gently to sit up.

"Stay awake," you plead, "You need to stay awake for me."

Finally, his shivering subsides and you sit in exhausted silence as the warm water continues to pour over both of you. Your chin is resting on his shoulder.

"Cassian," you finally say into his ear, tucking a stray lock behind it as if that will allow him to heed your words better.

He leans back into you, tilting his head up towards your face, to show he is listening.

"I don't....I don't despise you, I don't..." you trail off, silent tears suddenly mingling with the spray from the shower as they start to fall from your eyes.

Slowly, Cassian turns to you. He rolls on to his knees, and sits upright on his heels. You mirror his movements so that you are face to face and your foreheads come to rest against each other's.

"I know," he whispers, bringing a hand to your cheek, his expression soft and full of tenderness, "I know that."

He trails a series of soft kisses down your face, touching his lips to your forehead, then to the tip of your nose, and finally down until they reach your own. You melt into him.

This kiss is not like the first you shared, hasty and hurried and fuelled by external forces. This is deep and languid and deliberate, as if you are the only two in existence and you have all the time in the Galaxy to spend in this moment.

One of Andor's hands tangles up in your wet hair, the other presses against the small of your back as if willing you closer to him. You can feel his urgency increasing now. His movements are definite and purposeful as he caresses and kisses your skin.

Selfishly, you want him to continue, need him to never stop. But you also know this might not be the wisest way for him to recover.

"Cassian..."

"You told me I need to stay awake," he argues as if he already knows what you're about to say, now tracing kisses along your collarbone, "I'm awake."

"This isn't exactly what I had in mind..." you protest weakly, but the breathy desire in your own voice betrays you.

"Liar," he mumbles as he nuzzles into your neck and you feel him grin against your skin.

The movement of his lips makes his short beard tickle your flesh and the feeling forces a raucous laugh from your chest. It's a loud, unrestrained, joyful sound.

Cassian pulls away to look at you, wearing an expression of wonder. You realise he's probably never heard you laugh like that before. In fact, you can't remember the last time you heard it yourself.

His eyes crease at the corners and dimples appear in his cheeks as he smiles widely at you. That smile, the one you realise you've adored all along. And this one is only for you.

"You're infuriating," you scold, but your voice is light and full of heady exhilaration.

You wrap yourself around him and kiss him hard, realising, finally, that it is impossible to deny yourself the joy of him any longer.

**********************************************

You and Andor step off the landing platform of the resort and up into his ship. K-2 wastes no time in piloting the vessel up and away from the city.

Compared to the sumptuous surroundings of Canto Bight, the interior of the ship looks admittedly a little dreary by comparison, but you won't miss life within those opulent walls. Not when you now know just how many of its inhabitants are within the insidious clutches of the Empire.

"Well, I hope you two behaved yourselves," K-2 greets you as you both enter the cockpit.

You and Cassian exchange a glance. He winks at you and you actually giggle, the internal glow of happiness you feel manifesting itself in an embarrassing little laugh.

"I'm taking that as a no," K-2 says, "Murdo will be pleased."

"Who the hell is Murdo?" Cassian asks and he drops into the pilot's chair beside his faithful droid.

#cassian andor x reader #cassian andor x female reader #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #cassian andor fanfiction

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hb-writes · 1 year ago

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Holiday Spirit

Summary: When the Winchesters decide to take a few days off hunting around Halloween, Nora gets in the spirit of the holiday and decides to do a little decorating.

Prompt: "If I go outside and find my car covered in stringed lights I'm smacking you."

Characters: Dean Winchester & Nora Winchester

Warnings: just the smacking referenced in the prompt.

Nora stilled her fingers, the piece of candy she held in her hands half-way unwrapped as she studied her brother as he finally stirred. He looked grumpy as hell, as if Dean was already dressed in his Halloween costume—a miserable old curmudgeon.

A curmudgeon who was already complaining even though he had yet to open his eyes.

“What’s all that noise?”

Nora bit her tongue to keep from asking him ‘what noise?’ considering that the last fifteen minutes was the quietest she had been all morning. She’d even managed to stop the microwave before it started beeping after rewarming her coffee.

Decorating had been much louder, but all of her flitting about the motel room and the microwaving hadn’t woken her brother. She had checked each time, wincing and tip-toeing to his bedside after every slightly too loud noise she made.

He had slept like the dead through all of it, something she supposed he deserved seeing as they’d been driving for so long and he had refused to share the burden with his siblings, insisting they both rest. But go figure, Dean would wake up at the sound of junk food—Nora’s brothers both seemed to have a hypersonic radar for that…for vastly different reasons, of course, but they both seemed to always know when Nora had something delicious and terrible for you in her grasp.

Dean sat up suddenly when Nora didn’t answer, but before his glare could land on her face, he caught sight of all of the decorations—the fake cobwebs and glow-in-the-dark skeletons, the miniature ghosts and bats dangling from the ceiling…as if they didn’t get enough of that crap outside of the motel rooms they so frequently called home.

“Where did all this crap come from?” Dean was still taking it all in.

“Dollar store,” Nora answered quietly, suddenly a bit sheepish as she confirmed that it was indeed a bunch of crap she had strung up around their barely 2-star motel room.

“Here, have some breakfast,” she said as she tossed the half-opened candy to him.

Dean finished unwrapping and popped it into his mouth without complaint, just as Nora hoped he would.

“And before you start lecturing, Sammy took me—” Nora reached for a second paper coffee cup, holding it out— “and we got you coffee. You might want to reheat it.”

Dean pulled himself out of the bed, the movements slow, as if he was still sore. As if he still needed another sixteen hours of sleep. Good thing they were planning on hanging out for a few days, assuming another job didn’t present itself, at least.

Nora hoped one wouldn’t. Her brothers were exhausted. She was exhausted. She just wanted to exist for a few days. It would’ve been nice to just exist for a few days somewhere a little nicer, a little more comfortable—at Uncle Bobby’s, maybe—but she wasn’t going to be picky. Relaxing was relaxing even if the motel room was shitty. At least the town had a nice little coffee house.

Dean pulled the coffee from Nora’s hand as he passed her, standing at the counter a few steps behind her, his back to her for a few moments as he fussed with the ancient microwave.

He’d let the microwave beep, zoning out long enough that he didn’t catch it before the time ran out, the incessant alarm so loud in the little motel room that Nora cringed. Dean took a sip of the hot liquid, sighing a bit as the flavor hit his tongue. It was re-warmed via microwave, a method of preparation that probably impacted the quality and taste of the coffee, but Dean could tell it was a decent brew. It wasn’t any of that gas station crap they were used to.

He took another sip before setting the cup on the counter and turning to his sister. Without a word, Dean snatched the candy bag from her lap, his hand digging through to find his favorite.

Nora bit down her complaint as his fingers retrieved the last four chocolates—they were her favorite, too. He set them down on the counter beside his coffee cup before tossing the bag back on the table. A bag full of second-best options that she didn’t particularly like. Still, she didn’t complain. The last hunt had been rough and Nora was trying to keep things light. Fun. Fighting over chocolate bars before he’d even finished a cup of coffee wasn’t fun.

“So…do you like the decorations?” she asked.

Dean’s eyes slid down to her as he opened his third piece of chocolate, an eyebrow raised.

Nora slid her foot from the chair where she had propped it up and pressed it into Dean’s thigh. He shifted his balance to accommodate the shove.

“Aw, c’mon, Dean. You said we were staying a few days, so I figured we might as well get into the holiday spirit.”

“Holiday spirit?” Dean asked, fingering the line of multicolored string lights she’d put up along the kitchen. “I think you’ve got the wrong holiday, bucko.”

Nora rolled her eyes and in rebuttal, she reached for the two pieces of candy Dean had yet to devour. She figured if he was awake enough to make fun, he was awake enough for her to take back some of the candy. Dean’s hand slammed down over hers before she could pull them into her grasp. He raised an eyebrow and she sighed, a show of defeat that had him releasing his grip on her.

Nora set her feet back up on the chair beside her, folding her arms across her chest. It had been hard enough convincing Sam to even buy the candy and she’d barely get any of the good ones now that Dean was hogging them. She should’ve known better and hid a few away for herself.

“Quit your pouting,” Dean said as he tossed one of the remaining candies on the table in front of her.

Dean couldn’t help but smile as Nora’s face lit up a bit and she quickly opened the candy, setting it in her mouth. He teased and he played the grump, but Dean was glad that his sister still got excited about stuff like this—stuff like Halloween decorations and candy and the fact that this rat hole of a motel somehow had extra channels so she could watch all those silly Halloween movies she’d watched as a kid. He was glad that Sam and Nora had been so enthusiastic about sitting down to watch It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown the night before. He was glad that the two of them had the capacity to be nostalgic for childhood even when he didn’t.

Dean strung his finger along the slowly flashing lights affixed to the counter once again. “Since when are Christmas lights Halloween decorations?”

“They’re string lights, Dean. Not Christmas lights. Indoor-outdoor. Multi-holiday use. They’re very versatile. And I like them,” she said as she took a sip of coffee to wash down the chocolate.

Dean snorted. “Yeah, well, if I go outside and find my car covered in stringed lights I'm smacking you."

Nora gasped, choking on the coffee as it went down wrong. She forced herself to laugh at the end of her coughing, as if Dean’s words were funny to her, as if it was nothing more than a joke.

Nora knew the words weren’t an idle threat though. Dean wouldn’t hesitate to hurt anyone who hurt his Baby. Not that she had really hurt his baby… The hand prints smeared across the windows were nothing more than fake blood. And the pumpkin-shaped antenna ball was easy enough to remove…

But Dean was staring at her, waiting for something. Waiting for confirmation.

Nora snorted. “I didn’t put any stupid stringed lights on your car, Dean. I’m not an idiot. How would I even plug them in?”

It wasn’t technically a lie, and Dean seemed content with her answer as he brought the coffee cup to his lips again, but Nora wondered how long it would be before he went to check. Nora had been adamantly against going for a run with Sam, but just now she wished she had agreed to go, if only to avoid being the only one here when Dean saw the car.

“We’ll, now that you’re up, I’m going to take a shower,” Nora said as she stood from the table, trying not to move too quickly, trying to take her time with gathering her things before heading for the bathroom.

As Nora closed the bathroom door, she heard her brother take up her spot at the table, his hand once again fishing in the bag of candy.

Her spot at the table where one could see out the window perfectly, the Impala perfectly visible between the threadbare curtains…

She had just started the water when Dean roared her name.

Actually roared. Nora cringed at the sound, but stepped into the warming water anyway. The flimsy door and fact that she was showering would at least offer her some protection. Dean wouldn’t come in, no matter how angry he was. No matter how much he wanted to throttle her.

Nora could stay there until the water ran cold, until Sam returned.

That, she decided, was the best course of action. To stay here until Sam got back. Until he could remind Dean that even though she could be a pain in the ass, he loved his sister.

That was the hope, at least.

Supernatural (Bye, Bye, Apple Pie) Masterlist

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester #nora winchester #halloween 2023 prompts

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ambystoman · 11 months ago

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Fyreon (Redo) (Emberonian)

Here we have the last main character, Fyreon. He is rather nonchalant and slow. He can be cold for a living fire and doesn't like being bothered. Pessimistic is one way to describe him and he just likes sleeping rather than dealing with pro-

"Keep it down, will you? I'm trying to sleep. I didn't ask you to write this thing anyway..."

Fyreon is an Emberonian, a species of fire elemental that is generally proficient with magic. He wears a set of hardened clay armor. This protects his fire body from being extinguished as well as protecting others from his flames. It is very heavy making him a slow but strong warrior.

Emberonians have a malleable body of fire and can fit in any kind of hollow object and use it as armor. Once inside, their bodies accommodate and create holes for their eyes and mouth. Once outside again, the object retakes its original form with no alterations.

He uses his staff to cast fire spells and the swirl on top is his Soul and the source of his magic. It is his main weapon. As mentioned in the previous post, I never programmed him so I don't have anything to show regarding his combat capabilities.

Those wisps around the top move and react to Fyreon as he casts spells and does attacks. They might seem alive but are simply projections of some sort. The bottom of his staff simply fades away.

Emberonians. All soldiers wear the same types of clay armor. All masks are one of a kind and belong to an individual for life.

Fyreon's diet consists of eating rocks and minerals like crystals. He is not allowed in jewelry stores anymore. He likes salamanders but laments not being able to swim or touch water with his real hands. He never takes off his armor much less his mask.

His mask gives him a lizard tongue.

Backstory

Fyreon is a captain. He leads his squadron into war against an evil race of water creatures. Both species compete for territory on a small planet where the landscape consists of arid deserts and valleys contrasting damp swamps and lakes. The Emberonians are slowly losing and having their territory purposefully flooded.

He is a strong leader and takes care of his people very well. He is loved by many and often seeks a quick and effective way to solve problems. He makes sure to show his best to his people in hopes of keeping everyone motivated and hopeful.

A good team

He hides his feelings of hopelessness and crushing sadness so nobody else would feel disillusioned. But what would happen if you suddenly lost your reason to keep a positive attitude but could not remember why? Would your true feelings come out? One day he would find out...

It is honestly very hard to talk much about the protagonists' backstories without having to deal with heavy spoilers. In short, all 3 lose their memories at the start of the game before meeting. Despite having no memories, their emotions remain.

Foul creature

Inspiration

Arguably my most popular character (or maybe it's Lima). He has quite the redesign history. Originally, he started out as some sort of bird magician guy. I had been playing a lot of Shovel Knight at the time and really liked Plague Knight. He seemed to have an axe as well instead of a staff. He also had nothing to do with fire.

I refined this concept and gave him sort of gill-like appendages to his mask. These would eventually become horns. I then would go back to the gill idea and outright make them gills instead and give him more axolotl characteristics.

His fire attributes were inspired by a drawing from an artist I really like. Panapana on twitter. Mainly this cool drawing of an Axolotl with fire gills. As soon as I saw this, I got the idea of making him a fire creature whose armor made him somewhat look like an axolotl but he himself wasn't one. Salamanders were closely associated with fire in ancient times so it kind of makes sense.

I never designed the other race of creatures Emberonians fight. Just like they are evil for his species, this race considers Emberonians evil the same way.

The very first fanart I ever got.

Fyreon means a lot to me and because of him I was able to make a really good friend. A lovely gift from @blaz-art

Um... You'll have to pay for that. Drawn by @blaz-art.

#3d modeling #blender #original character #digital art #art #original oc #gamedev #space #soul trail #ambystoman #lowpoly #elemental #fire elemental #axolotl #he eats rocks

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legendofzoodles · 2 years ago

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LOZ Character .../Rant

Hero of the Sky part 2

The LU and LOZ fandom need to cut Hylia a little slack. She definitely isn’t perfect and has done some questionable things throughout the series, but the hate and slander she gets isn’t really fair.

I personally blame Sky and Demise for the chain’s suffering much more than I blame her. And here’s why.

~~~

Before I start I’m going to make clear what my interpretation of Demise’s Curse meant. I’ve explained it in: Era of Hylia Lore 3 and Demise’s curse theory

So, it was Demise’s curse that set in motion the vast majority of the events following Skyward Sword. And I can’t forgive that Sky let it happen. This is something an LU comic panel made me realise and I’m actually kinda mad now.

Maybe it just was poor execution on the game’s part, and the devs wanted a dramatic uninterrupted shot of Demise announcing his curse all cool n’ stuff. But if you take away the fourth wall, the fact that Link just stood there and took it, is unbelievable.

Sure, he’s not omnipotent like the player and had no way of knowing that the curse was for real or comprehend it’s true scale...but still!

If the ancient evil (that a literal Goddess failed to vanquish) you just defeated stands up and starts to utter a possibly everlasting curse, at least try to stop him before he finishes. Throw another Skyward strike his way for good measure or stab him, or heck, interrupt him with annoying noises. Just do something! To add insult to my saltiness, Demise spoke frustratingly slow too, meaning Link had ample time to take some sort of decisive action.

Hey, remember when Wind as a child stabbed Ganondorf’s skull? Or when Twi stabbed him in the chest and left it in there to make sure he killed him?

It’s not the fact that Link failed to stop the curse that’s so egregious to me. Plenty before him and after him have failed, and I don’t have a problem with that. They’re human, they’re not perfect, they’re allowed to make mistakes. It’s the fact that he did nothing and seemingly forgets about it minutes later- going about his life in comfortable ignorance- that pisses me off.

I’m not gonna sugarcoat this. He royally fucked up there, and the fact that he gets off scot-free while the chain and his descendants have to deal with the mess is asinine!

This is the exact bs Hylia and First wanted to put an end to. I’d wager that Hylia only wanted First to be reincarnated once (because the idea of him continuing to be reincarnated and being paired up with her descendants for all eternity without Demise’s influence is gross and ruins her character for me) and that the reason Sun is her own person and not Hylia’s puppet is because she wanted her and her offspring to peacefully live normal lives once it was over.

Sky had one job to do and he failed. And what really sucks is that no one in the fandom acknowledges this. Everyone’s quick to blame Hylia for everything wrong with the chain’s lives, but she didn’t curse the hero into an endless cycle of reincarnation, Demise did that, and Sky let that happen without any resistance.

Hylia wasn’t supposed to even be in the picture once Sun came into existence. To be fair though, she should have just done things herself from the start rather than have heroes fight for her- but that’s an error in judgement I can forgive, especially when she played an active role herself and didn’t just sit around letting them handle it all.

But now thanks to Demise’s curse, the kingdom is literally forced to depend on the reincarnated heroes. I don’t think that Hylia can just come back to life. Demise did say that she gave up her Goddess form to be human and that sounds pretty irreversible. If she could, I feel like she would have at some point in the timeline. Basically, I’m blaming the curse for everything that goes wrong in the series, which isn’t Hylia’s fault at all and Sky enabled it to happen. Therefore I can get mad at him.

The chain will probably forgive him when the news eventually comes out. But if they magically get to see what actually happened, and watch Demise slowly utter the eternal curse that fucked over all their lives while Sky stands around doing butt fuck all, then imagine the unbridled chaos that would follow.

I’ll just put this here:

“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” - some guy (not Edmund Burke apparently)

I have to wonder what was going through Sky’s head when Legend literally spelled out the ramifications of Demise’s curse, all while the oblivious chain laughed it off as strange coincidences.

~~~

Thanks for reading!

At the end of the day this is all my opinion and you’re free to disagree.

Here’s part 1 Masterlist

Also I’ll rewrite that final confrontation at put a link here.

Recovered Regrets- story where chain find out about Demise’s curse

#legend of zelda #linked universe #linked universe sky #loz ss #loz #loz link #linked universe legend #lu sky #loz demise #hylia's chosen hero #master sword #legend of zelda fanfiction #loz fanfic #hylia #hylia slander

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legolasbadass · 3 years ago

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Heart of Gold, Chapter 24

Characters: Thorin, Dis, Thrain, Dwalin, Balin, Original Characters

Relationship: Thorin x OFC

Setting: Post Azanulbizar, Pre Quest of Erebor

Notes: Hello everyone and once more apologies for the delay! I rewrote this chapter a dozen times and I'm still not sure about it, but as I have a lot of plot to get through, I thought it would be best to get over my insecurities and just share it with you before you all lose interest in the story! As usual, there is angst in this chapter, but this angst turns into something different at the end ...

This is the 24th chapter to my Thorin Oakenshield fan fiction, Heart of Gold which can be read in full on ao3. Go check it out there to read from the start! Please consider reblogging if you enjoyed this chapter and if you are enjoying the story so far!

⚠️ Warning: Angst. Minor descriptions of birth (the act itself is not detailed at all though, and there is only one sentence mentioning blood!)

Word Count: 5.6k

Chapter 24 - Duty

In the following days, Dania did everything she could to avoid Ester, for she did not have the strength to face her without unleashing the extent of her outrage. As much as it dismayed her, Dania had accepted that Dís was right: she could not expose Ester. That would only bring more suspicion to her. How did she know Ester was to blame? And more importantly, why would Ester do such a thing? These questions Dania could not answer without exposing the very secret that lay at the heart of this whole mess.

In any case, who would believe Dania, the girl with elvish blood, over Lady Ester?

And so Dania spent all the time she was not taking care of Dís away from Lord Yngvi's court. She began to spend even more time with Master Gróin, but on days where he did not expect her, she tried everything that had worked in the past to rid herself of the horrors that plagued her mind: going for long walks in the woods, reading a book or studying ancient maps, or training, as she did now.

But today, she found that she could not concentrate, no matter how hard she tried. Arrow after arrow, Dania missed the makeshift target she had traced into a tree's bark, growing increasingly frustrated. Nothing. Nothing allowed her any respite so that now her whole body tingled irritatingly with the weight of her disquietude, for though her mind knew what had to be borne, her heart still could not believe it.

What kind of world would allow Ester to walk free? Ester did not merely need to be punished; she deserved to be destroyed, and Dania wanted to be the one to do it. All Dania wanted to do was rip those dainty gloves from her traitorous hands and tear her stupid embroidered gown to pieces.

Oh, Mahal, there was so much anger inside Dania, the likes of which she had never felt before. It practically made her dread Thorin's return, for if she was the reasonable one of the two, she could not even imagine the rage that would burst from him when he discovered the events that had occurred in his absence. And she could barely contain herself now; how was she supposed to remain passive when Ester would throw herself at Thorin upon his return?

With a sudden, furious cry, she cast away her bow and unsheathed her dagger and threw it at the tree, where it landed straight on the makeshift target.

"I'm curious to know what the tree did to deserve that."

Dania's hair swirled around her burning face as she spun to face the intruder. Her heartbeat slowed as she recognized Master Airi—one of Lord Yngvi's advisors—but her shame and embarrassment did not. He was dressed more casually than when she had last seen him, his courtly attire replaced by a more simple and comfortable brown tunic and trousers nearly the same colour as his umber hair and beard.

"How long have you been watching me, Master Airi?" she questioned in a wary voice as she moved to dislodge her dagger from the tree, her eyes never leaving his figure. It was not so much that she saw him as a threat—quite the contrary—but the last few days had made her increasingly distrustful.

"I've told you already, please; call me Airi," he said with a warm smile.

She wrapped her fingers around the dagger's hilt and pulled it so that it came out of the trunk with a soft crunch. "Alright, then. How long have you been watching me, Airi?"

"Only a few moments," he shrugged. "Is everything alright?"

"Fine," Dania answered curtly, then sighed. She was being exceedingly rude, and he did not deserve that. "I'm sorry; you took me by surprise, that's all."

"My apologies!" Airi said, raising both hands in the air. Dania quickly sheathed her dagger. "I like to walk in these woods from time to time, and then I heard sounds and . . . well, I found you."

"I didn't mean to disturb you," Dania apologized as she picked up her bow and quiver and slung them on her back.

"No, I—you didn't—that is, would you like to walk with me?" he asked, stumbling over his every word, and Dania realized that she was probably glaring at him.

Softening, she offered him a smile. "Alright."

It was mid-morning, and as they reached the edge of the woods, the Sun blessed the land with her mantle of burning gold. Dania still had not adapted to the torrid summers to which the South was subjected. Back in Erebor, summers were always mild; it was warm, even at night, but never to the extent where a simple walk rendered her sweaty and breathless, as she was now.

Ahead, the small camp that lay before the walls of Lord Yngvi's Halls was slowly coming to life. The sound of a few children playing and running around reached Dania's ears, conjuring a smile on her tired face.

"So, how does Lady Dís fare?" Airi suddenly asked, reminding Dania of the nightmares that had yet again plagued her last night. She was pinned against a wall as the strange man held her forcefully, her whole body aching under his malicious touch. Eventually, she would find the strength to push him away, but as soon as she did, he turned his attention to Dís.

"She's alright—she's strong."

"I don't doubt she is; the blood of Durin flows through her veins," Airi said solemnly. "They must be immensely grateful for what you have done—the royal family, I mean."

"What makes you say that?" Dania asked, frowning as they passed the first tents. They walked through a small alley, ducking beneath clotheslines, before reaching the main path through the camp. Many were just starting their days and preparing breakfast over fires, making it even hotter.

"You were the only one with Lady Dís at the time of the attack," he explained. Dania's frown deepened. "Rumours travel fast."

"Tell me about it," Dania sighed.

"Oh, I didn't mean it in a critical way," Airi said, shaking his head repeatedly so that the braids hanging from his moustache swung to and fro like a pendulum. "I have never met a lady who could defend herself like that. I mean, everyone knows the basics, but . . . that's very different from being in an actually dangerous situation!"

Unsure what to make of the awe in his voice, Dania merely said, "Well, living on the road, in exile, is very different from life at court. It forces you to become . . . stronger." Stronger was not the right word; it was more about learning to bury your weaknesses deep inside you. Otherwise, the atrocities you witnessed might consume you whole. But Dania kept this to herself.

"I imagine it's not always easy," Airi replied, "but, I still wish I could see the world; there's so much out there that I know nothing about—that we know nothing about."

"But you are a member of Lord Yngvi's council; you must have worked hard to get there at such a young age. Was that not your aspiration?" Dania asked with genuine curiosity.

Airi shook his head slowly. "That's what my father wanted for me. He died at Azanulbizar . . . Lord Yngvi chose me as his replacement after the war."

Cold seeped into Dania's bones even though the Sun continued to burn with intensity overhead. "Oh, I'm — I'm so sorry. . . ."

Airi shrugged. "We have all lost people we cared about dearly because of that battle."

She nodded absently, her grief turning words to ash in her throat. Thoughts of Frerin slipped through the cracks in her heart, making her whole body tighten. It was all slipping away; his voice, his laugh . . . even though it had not yet been a year since she saw him last.

They said their goodbyes soon after, and upon Airi's request, Dania promised him they would walk together soon and that he could give her a tour of the library—she had not the heart to tell him she had been several times before already. Then, after dropping off her bow and quiver in her tent—she could risk leaving them in her room inside the hall—she made her way toward Master Gróin's.

A small smile appeared on her face as she entered the colourful tent; the smell of chamomile, garlic, and eucalyptus—though a strange and unexpected brew—calmed her troubled mind almost immediately. She was still uncertain whether she wanted to become a healer; helping people warmed her heart, but too often, she was forced to be the bearer of bad news, and she was not sure how much longer she could bear it. Nevertheless, she was eternally grateful for Master Gróin's kindness and support, and she gained invaluable knowledge that made her fond of this place despite everything.

"Are you alright, dear?" Master Gróin asked, turning his attention away from the open cabinet to face her. He had an almost supernatural ability to read his patients' minds—and hers, apparently—but she shrugged it off, not wanting to concern him needlessly.

"Of course!" she said with a smile. "And how are you?"

He watched her for a moment more before a smile crept beneath his thick white beard. "Eager to get on with today's lesson—as I hope you are?"

Her smile widened, and this time it was genuine. "Always!"

"I prepared something fun for you," he said, moving to the other end of the table, covered with a white cloth, which he then pulled away to reveal a variety of herbs and empty jars. Resting her hands on the table's wooden surface, Dania looked up to him, awaiting explanations. "We have few appointments today, so I thought I might test some of your knowledge in the meantime.

"This is our new stock of herbs; you need to identify them with as little help as possible and store them in the right jars. Do you understand?" Dania nodded emphatically, determined not to use any help. "Good. Use that clever nose of yours," he chuckled as he moved back to the other side of the tent, "I'll be right here if you need me."

"I won't," she replied with a teasing smile, pulling a hearty laugh from Master Gróin.

Unfortunately, Dania barely had time to begin before three dwarves walked in, one of whom was a very pregnant dwarrowdam, who moaned and hunched over while another—presumably her husband—held her protectively.

"Mistress Signy?" Master Gróin said as he took a step toward the newcomers.

"Master Gróin, please; she cannot be in labour — she's not due for weeks!" the husband exclaimed, clearly distressed.

"Yes, that can happen," Master Gróin said, remaining calm despite the rapidly growing tension in the tent. "Mistress Signy, you should sit down," he added, pointing to a chair in front of the open cabinets. "When did the contractions start?"

The husband and companion looked on helplessly as Master Gróin led Mistress Signy to the chair. Another pained moan escaped her lips, then, panting heavily, she said, "they started no more than an hour ago."

"Right. Well, you have quite a way to go, then," he said, nodding to himself as he completed a few observations. "Dania?"

Up until this point, Dania had been standing frozen on the spot, trying to make herself as small as possible to ignore how helpless and confused she felt. 'Yes?" she said hesitantly.

"I'm going to need your help—"

"What?" she exclaimed in a high-pitched voice, suddenly feeling very faint and very nervous.

"You'll have to assist me—it's alright," he added quickly as she continued to stare at him with wide eyes. "Just start with clearing the table; we need to make some room."

"Er, alright," she mumbled, turning her back to the newcomers to focus on clearing the table. The herbs and jars that had seemed so important mere moments ago now felt like silly toys, and she tossed them into the cabinet with shaking hands. She felt so utterly foolish for not having foreseen this, but she had never imagined such a task would be expected of her. And while earlier she had been remarkably eager to prove herself, now she rather hoped Master Gróin would dismiss her for the day.

He did no such thing, and it was a terribly long day.

It did not take long to clear the space and clean everything they would need. Afterwards, all she had to do was wait—she wondered why no one had ever told her that giving birth was so long. But then, as Mistress Signy's contractions multiplied in frequency and agony, Dania realized that giving birth was not only a miracle but also a curse.

Dania was surprised when Master Gróin dismissed the husband and his companion; if she had been in his position, she never would have wanted to leave her wife, but he did not seem to mind. This would be their first child, Mistress Signy told Dania with a fond smile as the latter helped her make slow circuits around the tent, pausing when as a contraction struck, going on when it ceased. Despite the sweaty wrinkles on her brow and the clenching of her belly, hope shone in Mistress Signy's eyes, and longing settled in the pit of Dania's stomach once more.

But this was not the time to think about her fickle dreams, and soon Dania could think of nothing other than the headache pounding in her head in response to Mistress Signy's screams. Dania could not wait for it to stop. Mistress Signy's pale blond hair was soaked with sweat by this time. Rushing to gather clean cloths to soak in cold water in the hopes of granting her some relief, Dania was startled to see the dark stain of blood between Mistress Signy's thighs. Bile rose in her throat, but Master Gróin nodded reassuringly.

"Don't worry—it's all right," he said. "It's only when the blood is bright red and there's much more than this, that you need to worry."

Dania nodded, but she could not shake off her discomfort—discomfort that soon turned to distress when, despite Master Gróin's reassurances, things took a turn for the worse.

Dania could not describe what happened nor how; all she knew was that she felt utterly drained and her hands were soaked in blood, and regardless of how strongly she had wanted the screaming to stop, she missed it terribly when it ceased. There was no time to linger on it at first, for the baby wailed with vitality, unaware that his coming into the world was tainted in grief. Dania had never held a baby in her arms before, and as she gently wiped the fluids that covered him, still shaken and slightly dazed, she could only think of how his delicate body seemed to be a reminder of the fragility of life.

The sky was steeped in the evening sun's gentle blood when Dania stepped out of the tent. No words had come from her mouth yet when Mistress Signy's husband turned pale and rushed inside. His cries tore through the quiet night, causing the baby to wriggle and wail with renewed vigour in her arms. Could he sense his father's pain? Could he sense that void he would carry with him for the rest of his life? Dania did not know how to make his crying cease, but of course, she was not his mother. Remembering the hope in Mistress Signy's eyes, Dania's heart tightened, and for a moment, she felt as though the baby in her arms could feel her consternation. What a cruel fate! What kind of world took mothers away from children who needed their loving embrace more than anything?

The same world that allowed Ester to walk free despite her transgressions, came the reply from deep within her heart.

***

Thorin heaved a heavy sigh as he slumped against a fallen tree trunk, utterly spent after another endless day of travelling. The heat did not help; he could feel it all around him, even at night, pressing down on him no matter how many layers of clothing he shed or how much water he poured over his head. Part of him wished they could slow down or rest without having to rise before dawn—but at least this haste meant he would see Dania soon.

Dania.

He missed her so much his entire body ached with longing. They had been apart for a little more than a month and looking back, Thorin wondered how he had survived even one day. But, at least time went by quickly, for there was much to be done. Following the maps Dania had retrieved for them in Galtrev, Thrain's company had travelled towards the southwest for a few days until they reached the ruins of what appeared to be a massive arch between two boulders. On the arch were ancient runes; they had faded over the centuries, but they unmistakably marked this as a gate.

And so the dwarves had ventured forth and soon found themselves before the ruins of the ancient dwarf kingdom of Belegost*—though, at the time, they could not know this for a fact. At once, Balin was enthralled and furiously began to take notes. Thorin could not understand what he saw in the rubble of stones that surrounded them, but Balin's reaction told Thorin that he had better pay attention so that he might recount their findings to Dania as soon as he saw her.

The city—which could really no longer be called a city—was in such a poor state that it was dangerous to venture inside. However, the discovery gave them all hope. It would be a long and arduous process to resettle here, but at least they would not have to start from nothing. Most of the passages were completely sealed off, but all they needed was a warm, safe place before winter came along. With time they would rebuild a small hall from the remains of the ancient city and perhaps even prosper once more.

However, it quickly became evident that they would need more hands to secure the hall. Leaving half of their group behind to continue their work, Thrain led the others back to Lord Yngvi's Hall to bring the rest of their clan to their new settlement. They could not be more than two days away from Lord Yngvi's Hall now.

Thorin was grateful to finally have a moment to himself, and, trying to forget the heat and the ache in his feet, he closed his eyes and thought of Dania. Every night since they had parted, he thought of her. He could feel her hands holding his, smell that sweetness that was uniquely hers, and gaze into her beautiful face as though she were really before him. Her brown eyes always sparkled like a glittering cave of mithril as she leaned in to kiss him with lips of velvet. And the way she wrapped her arms around his neck and tangled her fingers in his hair. . . .

Mahal, being away from her was unbearable. Thorin could scarcely believe it had not yet been a whole year since they had first confessed their love for one another. Despite all the obstacles, everything felt so right when they were together; it was as if they had always been lovers—husband and wife. Of course, they had been friends for years before, and Thorin had known he loved her through much of that time. He could not remember precisely when he had fallen in love with Dania; it had been a gradual but inevitable process until he could not imagine his life without her.

But this was also what made it all so difficult; most of the time, he had to be away from her and pretend like it did not bother him. Worst of all, however, was when they found themselves in each other's presence and had to act like they were nothing but acquaintances. Adversity was all too familiar to Thorin, yet he could not help but despair at how unfair it was. Dania was his wife. His One. They had found happiness despite all their hardships in the few days before they had parted. He had made her smile, laugh, and sigh in pleasure, as was his duty and desire. And yet, he felt unworthy and disappointed in himself every time she slipped from his bed before dawn.

Amidst the sounds of the bustling camp, Thorin recognized Dwalin from his steps and the grunt he let out as he sunk beside him, but he did not open his eyes.

"It's no rare to see ye with such a frown on yer face lately," Dwalin said, causing Thorin's frown to deepen. "But, Mahal, Thorin, ye look like ye've got a stick up your arse."

If anyone else had told him that, they would have been lying face down on the ground in no time, but since this was Dwalin, Thorin only stared at him and raised his eyebrows, hoping that would be enough to make his friend retreat. But it was not.

"What? It's true," Dwalin insisted, as though he did not understand precisely what look Thorin gave him.

"I am fine."

"I didna ask." Thorin raised his eyebrows again as he turned to face Dwalin, who burst out laughing and said, "Mahal, I'm only kidding! But yer lying."

Thorin sighed. Dwalin had no idea just how many things Thorin lied about, and even less so how much Thorin wished he could tell him the truth. Dania was the one who knew him best, and that had been true for many years now. He remembered the long nights they spent in the armoury in Galtrev; they talked about everything, from their days to complaining about their fathers or reminiscing about their childhood in Erebor. They were closer than ever before now, yet there were things Thorin felt he could not tell Dania. He would have been lying to himself if he did not admit it. And then he saw how much it heartened Dania to be able to share everything with Dís, and though he felt selfish and immature for feeling so, he was jealous.

"Do you ever . . ." Thorin trailed off as he realized how ridiculously melancholic his thoughts were, but then as Dwalin insisted he speak, he forced himself to go on. "Do you ever feel as though you have no control over your life?"

"What do ye mean?" Dwalin asked, a concerned frown marking his face.

Tilting his head, Thorin swallowed hard. "Everyone expects different things from me—great things—but they never stop to ask themselves what I want."

"Well, I suppose sometimes things dinna work out the way ye wish they would, aye," Dwalin said hesitantly. "Ye cannae win every fight—ye'll have to fight someone else if ye want to win for once."

Thorin chuckled, his fingers fiddling with the hilt of his sword, Deathless, which hung by his waist, but he was in no mood to jest. Moonlight enveloped the camp, and overhead, an owl hooted, perched atop a branch as though the world belonged to him.

Dwalin was right: it was hard to encounter a reality that did not satisfy one's expectations, but so far, he and Dania had simply assumed that things would never work in their favour. Thorin wanted the whole world to know they belonged to each other—inasmuch as one person could belong to another, anyway—and though he knew the chance of that ever becoming a reality was slim, did that mean it was useless to try?

The truth was that Thorin was terrified. He had insisted that there was a chance for them on more than one occasion, but as long as their love remained a secret, that chance could not be definitely destroyed.

Or so he had thought.

He would never have expected his father to begin talking about marriage so soon. Dwarves seldom married before they were one hundred years old, and being only fifty-three, Thorin had been sure that many, many more years lay before him until his father would start bothering him with the idea. But now, his father wanted him to marry Ester, that vile creature who had spoken so foully to Dania. Unconsciously, Thorin tightened his grip on his sword, only realizing when a voice pulled him from the dark recesses of his mind.

"My Lord Thorin," Master Mimir said as he bowed before Thorin, who quickly raised himself.

"Master Mimir," Thorin said. He always felt a slight unease around Dania's father, mainly because Master Mimir had always been very kind to him, as though he understood what it was like to be forced into unpleasant situations in the name of duty. And how had Thorin repaid him for his kindness? By secretly wedding his only daughter.

Thorin bit his cheek; he could not think of Dania as such in Master Mimir's presence. It felt wrong. So wrong. And yet, as they looked at each other, Thorin could not help but think about Dania. They did not share many physical attributes, but they had the same chestnut-coloured hair, though Dania's looked much softer, and his was streaked with gray. They were also roughly the same height, but perhaps this was due to her Elvish ancestry, for Dania was tall for a Dwarrowdam. Still, she was short enough that she could tuck her head in the crook of Thorin's neck when they hugged. Oh, how he adored that!

Stop thinking about her, he chastised himself.

"The king would like to speak with you," Master Mimir said. "He was expecting you half an hour ago," he added, but his tone was apologetic rather than reproachful.

Groaning, Thorin said, "I completely forgot—I hope he is not too displeased?" He nodded to Dwalin before following Master Mimir toward his father's tent.

"He's in a good mood today," Master Mimir replied, though his voice grew weary. Thorin knew why: in the past month, it had become a habit for his father to explode in rage before his advisors at the slightest inconvenience. He had even shouted at Thorin a few times, something he had not done since Thorin was a little boy and had snuck into the armoury unsupervised. Despite how hard Thorin tried to reassure himself, he recognized the signs. But how? How could his father be slowly succumbing to the same sickness which had taken his grandfather if the treasure lay half a world away?

No answer came, and Thorin chased the question away as they entered the tent. Thrain stood in the middle, his eyes fixed on the maps laid out before him on a large rock until he looked up to the newcomers.

"Thorin, there you are!" Thrain said with a warm smile.

"Father," Thorin greeted him, smiling in return. "I apologize—"

"There is no need to apologize, son," Thrain reassured him, and Thorin—like a little boy desperate to please his father—felt his heart lighten considerably. "Thank you, Mimir."

Thorin nodded in thanks to Master Mimir before the latter stepped outside, leaving father and son alone. Thrain continued to smile at him and said, "We should be reaching Lord Yngvi's Hall tomorrow just before dusk if we wake before dawn and keep our current pace."

"That is good news," Thorin replied, thinking of his mother and sister, and above all, Dania. Only a few more hours until he held her in his arms again!

"I expect you to be well-rested and presentable," Thrain said, alluding to Thorin's slightly dishevelled appearance��a completely normal effect of travelling in the wild.

"I highly doubt Lord Yngvi will mind if we arrive on his doorstep looking a little worn out, father."

"It is not Lord Yngvi I am concerned about."

Thorin froze.

"Lady Ester will be delighted to see you after so long," Thrain went on, oblivious to the turmoil raging inside Thorin as Dania resurfaced in his mind.

"That will make one of us." The words were out of Thorin's mouth before he realized it.

Thrain's eyes narrowed as he rested a heavily ringed fist on one of the maps. "I beg your pardon?"

Thorin momentarily closed his eyes and sighed. "I am sorry, it is only that—"

"She likes you," Thrain said flatly.

"She likes the idea of me," Thorin corrected him, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Even so, it is an advantageous marriage. You would do well to remember that."

"Advantageous for you, perhaps, but certainly not for me," Thorin retorted bitterly. He could tell that his father was growing impatient, but there was nothing to be done; he could not take back his words. In any case, he did not want to take them back.

"Thorin, we must all make sacrifices to preserve the integrity of our house," Thrain said, accentuating his words with a bang of his fist on the rock. "You are my heir; you must therefore marry someone befitting your rank and who will strengthen our line, just as I did when I married your mother."

"But you and mother actually liked each other before courting," Thorin replied, growing increasingly frustrated. He was walking a very fine line here, and though he could not back down, he had to be careful not to slip and reveal his deepest secret.

"You and Lady Ester will learn to do so as well. It can take time to learn to love someone."

Tolerance, even perhaps affection, could be learned, yes, but not love. Thorin knew better than to voice these thoughts, however, and instead merely said, "Ester and I could never make each other happy—we have nothing in common."

"Now, Thorin, how can you possibly know that if you do not even try to know her better?" Thrain questioned, his thick eyebrows raising into his tattooed forehead.

"I do not need to learn anything more to know that she is the last person I wish to spend my life with!" Thorin exclaimed, then, taking a deep breath, he added, "Do you know she insulted Dania, Mimir's daughter, in public, saying that she was 'nothing' and would never be one of us?"

Sighing, Thrain scratched his beard. "That has nothing to do with you."

Thorin's heart tightened. "Should not the future queen of the Longbeards be more respectful toward her kin—and not merely other lords and ladies? Should she not be warm, generous, compassionate, modest? Ester is none of that." His right hand tightened on the hilt of his sword once more.

"You have never disobeyed me before," Thrain growled, his eyes wide and incredulous. "What in Durin's name is the matter with you?"

Resentment and heartbreak wreaked havoc inside Thorin, filling his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. His whole body ached with the force of such injustice. He almost wanted to tell his father outright that he loved Dania and that she was his wife. His father could exile them for all he cared; at least they would be together. He could not think straight. The only thing keeping him from committing a grave mistake was the knowledge that Dania had repeatedly told him she did not want that. And she was right; he could not abandon his duties.

"Father, please . . . do not make me marry Ester—I am begging you. . . ."

These words seemed to perturb Thrain, who continued to stare at his son, confusion and worry marked onto his face. "Thorin—"

"Do you not want me to be happy?" Thorin asked, his voice breaking despite how hard he tried to retain his composure. The last thing he needed was to be so weak in front of his father.

"Of course I want you to be happy, son, but I—I do not understand. What makes you think that marrying Lady Ester would be so terrible?"

"Are the points I raised not reason enough?"

Sighing deeply, Thrain took a step toward Thorin and placed a firm but gentle hand on his shoulder. "You know what is at stake here; I know you do."

"I do," Thorin replied solemnly, looking deep into his father's eyes. Those eyes—one of which had been blinded during Azanulbizar—made Thorin feel like such a failure. His father worked so hard for his family and his people, and this is how Thorin repaid him? But he could not marry Ester. As much as Thorin wished he could please both his father and Dania, he was bound to disappoint one of them. And he had promised her he would fight for them.

"Very well," Thrain said with another deep sigh. Thorin's eyes widened, but he was not yet sure he could trust the hope beginning to bloom inside him. "Do not think I am not disappointed in you—I am. However, as your father, I cannot force you to do something which would bring you such deep unhappiness."

"Father—" Thorin breathed out, his heart hammering against his chest.

"Let me finish," Thrain interjected. "We cannot afford to lose Lord Ivar's support. You will need to handle this with the utmost care."

"I will talk to Ester. She does not love me, and so I am sure I may find a way to convince her that this is beneficial to both of us," Thorin said, despite how unconfident he felt in the venture. How on earth was he supposed to convince Ester—who was so blinded by power—that to marry him was a bad idea?

Thrain nodded slowly, then said, "I will not ask you why you are so vehemently opposed to the union, for I sense some deeper purpose which you have yet to disclose, but know that you are my son and there is nothing you may not tell me."

An overpowering ache stabbed Thorin in the stomach. How he wished that was true, words could not express.

"I will not disappoint you again, father."

And that was the last they spoke on the subject.

—

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beskarbrowneyes · 2 years ago

Text

Meet Cute

Pairing: Steven Grant x Gn!Reader

Summary: Struggling to keep up with your new job and city, bumping into a neighbor on the way out one morning gives you a hint of excitement and support in these challenging times.

Warnings: N/A just fluff :)

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: This is my first story on here and I'm so excited to see where I go with it! I started this planning just to do a fluff one-shot but think I may continue this depending on how I feel.

*******************************************************************

The beginning of a fresh start was harder than you remember. It had only been a week at your new flat in London but you still felt the rush of terror and fear overwhelm your body with every thought and step. You moved here ambitious to start a new job in a new city but found it to be much more challenging than expected.

Your flat was quaint, but it was yours. The building was dark and had its flaws, but you convinced yourself you could find beauty in such an old building. Much of this hopefulness was lost on Monday morning as you found the commute from the flat to your new office longer than you planned. The cab drive from the office back to your hotel when you initially interviewed a month ago was where you first spotted the old building you’d be calling home. Being a cab passenger, however, seemed to distort your idea of what lengths a walk like this would take.

It was Wednesday morning. Sitting on the floor tying your shoes, eyeing the lack of progress you’ve made at setting up your place, you fought the growing resistance you had to London. Onboarding at work proved slow and boring. You haven’t spoken to anybody other than for work-related conversations at the office and waiters on your dinner dates with yourself. You didn’t expect it to get good as soon as you stepped foot in the city, but you found no enjoyment just waiting in solitude for it to feel like home.

Standing to grab your coat, you eyed the room to make sure you gathered your possessions. Dreading the walk and fighting your gut instincts to stay in bed, you took a deep breath and turned to head out.

Let’s hope London has something at least mediocre to offer today.

The hallway was gently lit with the gleaming rays of a beautiful morning. The sun brought light to the dust scattering the cracked, hardwood floors of your apartment. As you turned to lock your door, fingers still adjusting to the difficult motion you had to learn to please this ancient appliance, the overwhelming sound of another swinging open behind you seared through the building’s painful silence. The door creaked and screamed as whoever was running out made no concern to the solemn morning. Pulling your key away, accomplished and ready to begin your journey, you nearly collided with this person just shifting your weight in the direction of the elevator.

You caught sight of a scattered, stressed-out-looking man feverishly trying to collect himself and his armful of belongings. A black bag slung over his left shoulder fought to slide down his arm as he hurriedly flips through his ring of keys; searching for the one for his door. Deep brown tufts of hair flopped over his forehead in his mess of desperation. As the weight of his bag gave in and dropped to his forearm, he grunted in desperation at the imbalance; keys slipping and falling to the floor with a wave of chimes. A witness to this poor man’s struggle, you make no hesitation in reaching down to pick up his keys on what you can predict to already be a rough day for him. You snag the keyring, trailing the handful of brass into your palm, before you stop dead in your ascent, gripping the bundle firmly into your hand at the set of eyes staring you down.

The man must have begun to reach for his keys, but given by his hunched posture now at your level, you beat him there. Staring back at you was the face of a panicked man; large brown eyes blown out and sweat glistening lightly on his forehead. The hair you spotted earlier curled gently over his head, shaping the face of olive skin and the emergence of deep-set lines.

“Sorry didn’t mean to startle you. Just in a hurry this morning.”

His voice was kind and comforting. You took in the euphoria of neighborly interaction as this man now stood wobbling in attempts to throw his coat over his free arm.

“No, no! No worries!”

You paused to both correct your positioning, and let him finish his battle with his jacket.

“Here, these are yours.”

You reached out to the man, offering his mess of keys as he began to finally stand up straight, palm open and waiting. He slid his hand across to grab the ring out of yours. His fingers brushed softly against your skin leaving a warm sensation you couldn’t determine being from him or your sudden nerves.

He nodded a thank you before marching headfirst towards the elevator in a hurry. You trailed behind him; both targeted on the end of the hallway. He pressed the call button down a few times before the machine chimed with almost an “okay geez I get it” pressure in its ringing, responding to the panicked pushes of the man in front of you. The large doors slid open, beckoning you two into the cabin lit by a dusted-over yellow lightbulb. The man motioned for you to go first, him following shortly behind you as you took a big step into the elevator over the gap between the floor. Turning to face the doors, you watched as the hallway before you narrowed in width as the metal walls closed in on you, trapping you in this closet space with the stranger. You didn’t know him, and maybe it was just your overwhelming desperation for social contact, but you just needed to talk to him.

“So, what’s the rush for?”

You already felt yourself cringing back into your skin at this statement.

“Running a bit late for work,” he responds. “I just can’t seem to get my timing right recently.” He laughs to himself a little, turning to you and making eye contact for the first time since the key incident.

You smile back. “I get it.”

An idea pops into your head.

“Hey, so, I just moved here. I’ve been walking to work since this Monday but it’s been a pretty lengthy walk. Would you happen to know about how the buses work here? I just need to find a better way to get there.”

The doors chime and swing open before you. You hadn’t even noticed how much time had passed since you stepped into the elevator. You both walk forward, waiting for him to digest what you just asked him.

“Yeah- well, where do you work?”

How could you forget such an important detail?

“Sorry right, well I guess it’s across from the museum. The British Museum.”

He perks up. Turning his head to you as he continues his hurried walk out of the building.

“That’s where I’m headed!” He motions the jacket over his arm towards you with a jerk of his shoulder. “I work there. Just tag along with me on the bus.”

You smile back at him, excited about the surprisingly upward turn of events.

—

Standing here now, sardines in a can on the bus, the neighbor and you have made quick progress since this morning’s fiasco. You learned he was a shopkeeper, but an aspiring tour guide, at the British Museum. Just in the few minutes you shared at the bus stop, you could already tell this man was one in a million. The way his eyes lit up and his arms raised in excitement as he spoke about working alongside the Ancient Egypt exhibit excited something up in you. It was always such a joy to hear others get lost in their passions. By the time the bus arrived, the man walked up the vehicle steps not even hesitating to breathe as he explained in textbook detail the burial customs for pharaohs. Now, in the swarm of people, he and you stood face to face, his arm above your head holding onto stability, as he gave you a Cambridge-worthy lecture on Egyptology. With each turn of the bus, you lurched towards him, occasionally brushing shoulders or arms. After one particularly bad swing, practically sending you face-first into his shirt, the neighbor paused mid-sentence to glance out the window.

“Here’s our stop.”

He turned his head back towards you, flashing a toothy smile, before shoving a path through the sea of passengers towards the door. You followed behind, taking a big step out into open as the deafening sound of the stalled bus stung your eardrums. Here you stood for a bit, half soaking in the beauty of London you felt lucky enough to stand before and half dreading the pivotal walk you’ll have to make to a day at work sure to sour the good start you had going for you.

It hadn’t occurred to you to think about the man who had gotten you here in the first place. On your left, you looked to find him staring back at you, waiting there in silence this whole time.

“Thank you for the suggestion. This was much better than the walk.”

“Yeah not the best always,” he said nodding as if he was debating it in real-time. “A bit too crowded for me usually but I’m glad to be of some help.”

You smiled back. “I don’t mean to get in your way, I know you were in a hurry.” You began to backpedal your feet away from him. God, you didn’t want to move along from the only conversation you’ve enjoyed in so long.

His eyes glanced to his wristwatch before widening in terror. By the looks of it he must have forgotten about his dilemma too.

“Lovely chatting with you. Laters ‘gators.” He waved a hand up towards you as he hurrdily flailed his legs in the direction of the museum entrance.

You began turning towards the positioning of your commute before realizing what you had forgotten.

“Wait! What’s your name!?”

“I’m Steven!” He turned towards you but kept his near running pace. “With a V! I’ll see you tomorrow morning! Preferably earlier!”

You laughed at his excitement. Tomorrow couldn’t come sooner.

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gloryofluv · 3 years ago

Text

Order Up! (Coffee Shop AU) Chapter 4

Not too much gooey flirting in this chapter, but I promise it's well worth the read! Clap and cheer, welcome our Prince (CEO in this au) to the stage of goodness and coffee! I'm pretty darn excited.

Chapters:

1 - 2 - 3

Sunday. It was usually pretty quiet in the morning. It gave her a chance to reorganize her displays and check all the inventory of the coffee and cups. She was bent and digging in the cupboard below for more retail coffee bags to place out.

“My word, what a display.”

She vaguely remembered who that voice belonged to. It was early, and she just didn’t have it in her today. Sundays were always slow until church started. Alex glanced up next to her and nearly fell on her ass. “Oh, good morning, Diavolo,” she murmured with pink cheeks.

He smiled and gestured to the cups. “This is nice. I should suggest it in my other stores.”

She stood from her crouch and beamed. “Thank you. Jordan kind of gives me creative freedom out here.”

“Alex, right? Of course, it’s on your tag,” Diavolo laughed and tilted his head. “Oh, that smells great,” he noted and gestured to the French roast in her arms.

She rocked her head. “Yes, it is pretty spectacular in a good french press. However, I much prefer the lighter roasts. More caffeine and a softer taste.”

“So, Alex, what do you do when not serving smiles?” Diavolo questioned.

Alex shook her head and laughed. “I turn into a pumpkin.”

Diavolo chuckled and took a few of the bags from her, setting them on the proper shelf. “Well, I find it hard to believe that Jordan employed a pumpkin.”

Charming. He always was. Burnt crimson suit jacket that bled money. Wild dark auburn hair and amber eyes with a skin tone that read coffee and cream even. He really was a giant cup of coffee. Warm, welcoming, and when you looked at him, you always felt much happier than you were moments ago.

“How are you doing today, Diavolo?” She questioned. He hated to be called Mr. or Sir, so she ended up just calling him by his name through trial and error.

“Oh, excellent, Alex. Barbatos and I are going to breakfast with a few board members. Lucifer is going to meet us here for coffee before that. Would you like to prepare a tasting for us?” He questioned with a bright smile.

“Any preferences? I have a few recommendations. I’m quite partial to the Guatemalan roast if you’re looking for a medium with rich flavor,” Alex declared as she bounced on her heels in front of him.

Diavolo always made her nervous in a giddy way. No real reason to be, aside from this man being naturally big energy. She tucked her arm behind her, and he took a step closer to her, reaching up with his tall frame and adjusting a light. Alex really wished that she wasn’t blushing. Really really, really!

He smiled down at her. “I will say whatever you think is best. I hope you plan to host the tasting. I know that Jordan said he’d be here momentarily to cover your position.”

Oh? Interesting. “Of course, if that’s what you would like. I’m at your service always, Diavolo,” she nodded.

He beamed and rocked his head. “I do love that you are so willing, Alex. I truly look forward to your smiles. They’re infectious, and it would be nice to have before a boring breakfast with ancient creatures from the depths of hell,” he finished in a wicked whisper with a smirk.

Alex giggled and agreed. “Alright. Well, I’ll prepare the tasting for you.”

“Perfect, we’re going to be out on the patio, alright? Barbatos has it already blocked off,” Diavolo declared.

“I’ll be out shortly.”

Diavolo pulled from her space and gasped. “Oh! Alex!”

She stopped and tilted her head. “Yes, Diavolo?”

“Did you know the key to great latte art is to espresso yourself?” He asked with a wide smile.

Alex laughed and covered her mouth. “That one is the worst yet!”

“I know! I thought you would enjoy that,” he chuckled.

Well, that lightened the situation up a little. Diavolo moved to the door, and Jordan walked in, yawning. “Good morning, Diavolo,” he nodded.

“Good morning, Jordan! Thank you for this. I’ll be sure you receive your bonus on your next paycheck,” Diavolo nodded.

Jordan beamed and gave him a thumb up. “Excellent, boss. Whatever you say.”

Diavolo laughed and shook his head before leaving. Jordan examined Alex and smirked as he crossed his arms while approaching her. “So, what did you do to get on Daddy Dia’s radar?”

“Beats the fuck out of me, Jordan. Don’t you always host his tastings?” Alex asked.

Jordan shrugged his shoulders. “Maybe he’s opening another store and wants you to run it?”

“Maybe? What do you think? I mean, he and Barbs are always kind and wonderful to me when they come in. Goofy, sweet, and completely deadly because that’s just as masked as our smiles sometimes,” Alex whispered and stared up at him wide-eyed.

“Well, what Daddy wants, Daddy gets. You better go get your tray together,” Jordan hummed and patted her shoulder.

“Please stop calling him that,” Alex blushed. “I’ll never be able to get through this tasting.”

Jordan laughed and flicked his fingers. “Well, I’m not usually into soft power tops, but, darling, he’s got it.”

Alex wagged her finger as she pivoted and walked back around the counter. “You’re a horrible, terrible person. Do you even know how much you just screwed my brain sideways?”

“Oh, yes, I do,” Jordan laughed as he fixed his apron. “However, you freak out when Lucifer is around, and he is looking deadly fine today, honey,” he said while washing his hands.

Alex groaned and glanced over at Lisa talking to Asmodeus about something on his phone. “Your boyfriend is here,” she snickered before grabbing a bag of coffee from above.

“I know. He texted me this morning about a sale at the mall on Louis Vuitton. He’s headed there when it first opens,” Jordan explained and exhaled. “I was going to go, but work trumps flirting with a well-off influencer.”

Alex reached over and pinched his cheek. “Thank you, Boo-boo.”

“What are you going to serve?” Jordan asked. “Oh, let me give you a hint. Daddy doesn’t like blonds, nor does he like anything overly sweet.”

Alex breathed and showed him the bag. “I was thinking this. Just due to the fact that it’s a good neutral ground between.”

Jordan rocked his head. “Don’t quote from the bag. You know this stuff, babe. Just have a good time. For most of my tastings with them, I usually talk more about my personal experiences than the facts. He already knows them, give the basics, but let you speak for the coffee, okay?”

Alex breathed and smiled. “Okay.”

Alex shook off the jitters as she brought the tray outside. She was excited like it was a new adventure, despite it just being a tasting… with the CEO, CFO, and COO. Whatever, this was her job. She knew all this stuff.

Walking around the corner, sure enough, a portion of the patio was blocked off with other tables and chairs. There was space for her to walk over to the table, and she beamed as she set down the tray.

“Good morning, gentlemen,” Alex said.

Barbatos nodded. “Good morning, Alex. How are you today?”

“I’m doing very well, thank you for asking. How are you?”

He smiled in the slightest. “Well, thank you.”

Diavolo leaned his elbow on the table and pressed his face into his hand. “Alex, so what do we have this morning? I do see banana nut bread, which is intriguing.”

Lucifer arched an eyebrow and gestured to the plates. “Is that butter?”

“Yes, Lucifer,” Alex smiled. “You see, I wanted you to try something complimentary but not terribly sweet. The roast is Brazillian, but it can be overwhelming to actually enjoy the undertones of the coffee with something that is indeed complementary to it.”

“Intrigued,” Diavolo grinned and watched the woman pour the small cups.

“I spent some time several years ago going on a coffee adventure with Jordan. We tried all sorts of pastries and foods with different roasts. It was a great way for me to get through my hardships, and he enjoyed it immensely as well,” Alex explained and set down their plates in front of them.

Diavolo yanked over a chair and patted the arm. “Sit down, please tell me more.”

Alex rocked her head and sat down while pouring herself a cup. “Well, we tried all these uncommon types of food with roasts to see what undertones we could catch in the coffee. I found that this brought out the rich flavors without compromising the taste for a sweet pastry.”

Lucifer arched his eyebrow. “Interesting.”

“What hardships, if you don’t mind my personal intrigue,” Barbatos asked as he smelt the coffee.

Alex exhaled and smiled as she thumbed her cup. “My parents were struck in their car and passed away on the scene. I had just finished high school and was going to the university for summer prep courses.”

Diavolo grimaced. “I’m so sorry, Alex.”

“You mentioned that your home was theirs?” Lucifer asked.

Alex rocked her head with a smile. “Yes, it’s my childhood home.”

“Let’s taste this interesting concoction, shall we?” Diavolo questioned.

They all agreed with nods and began. It was interesting to watch the look of pure glee and surprise melt on Diavolo’s face. Sips of coffee and then a nibble of the pastry. He was clearly amused!

“This is astoundingly delicious!” He laughed.

Alex blushed and rubbed her neck. “Well, I can’t take credit for it all.”

“You can,” Lucifer snorted and relaxed in his chair. “You choose not to.”

“Ah, yes, that is quite true, Lucifer,” Barbatos chuckled.

Diavolo smirked and set his ankle on his knee while lounging in his chair. “Sell yourself to me. Make me believe that this is the best you have to offer.”

Oh, a challenge? Alex licked her lips. What did he mean? “The roast?”

Diavolo nodded. “Tell me why this roast.”

Alex sat up and plastered on her usual smile. The one that gave her brilliant tips. “Well, Diavolo, it actually was based on what each of you drinks. Barbatos enjoys tea, so anything with bitter acidity would set off his pallet. Lucifer enjoys a rich Cafe Verona unless we’re offering Sumatra, which is earthy, and he’ll actually sprinkle cinnamon in before leaving,” she paused and gestured to Diavolo.

“You’re difficult because you never drink the same coffee twice. However, you gravitate toward salty over sweet. The roast itself has sweet undertones, but adding the butter on something with a nutty texture like banana nut bread gives it the salty you crave with such. That is why this is the roast ideal for all three of you,” Alex finished.

Diavolo was grinning like a fool as he leaned closer to her. “You’re very good at what you do.”

“Thank you,” Alex smirked.

“Convince me to love it,” Diavolo arched an eyebrow. “Tell me it’s something I should drink every day.”

What exactly was this? Well, okay. “Diavolo, you will think about this tasting a week from now. It will hit your tongue, and you’ll have a memory of the combination and then crave it. I don’t have to convince you. I know this was what you’ve been searching for.”

“Rightly,” he grinned and relaxed in his chair before pouring himself another cup of coffee. “I like her,” Diavolo said as he glanced at Lucifer.

“She’s excellent at her job,” Lucifer chuckled.

“I did finally get you to try something new,” Alex laughed before sipping her coffee.

Barbatos chuckled and pressed his gloved fist to his chin. “She does have that flair.”

Diavolo rocked his head. “Alex, I’m having a party two weeks from now. Would you like to come? It would be excellent for you to collect some connections.”

“A party, Diavolo?” Alex hummed.

He nodded and waved his hand. “It’s a charity dinner for a non-profit my company is,” he paused and tilted his head. “Friendly with.”

“Oh, well,” she lost her mask as she blinked.

“You were doing so well!” Diavolo laughed and shook his head. “Barbatos will collect your information, and we’ll go out to get you a dress this week.”

Not a request. Well. This was not exactly what she thought this tasting was going to lead to. To be honest, she didn’t think there would be any variance from work as usual.

“Okay,” she nodded.

“Perfect. Now, this business with your house. You live across from Lucifer?” Diavolo asked.

Alex rocked her head as her cheeks tinted. “Well, yes, actually, I do for now.”

“For now?” Lucifer scowled.

“Yes, I am talking to a real estate agent this week,” She mumbled and rubbed her neck. “It’s been something I’ve been holding off on while my parents' life insurance was holding off on the inevitable.”

“My apologies for bringing up such a sour subject,” Diavolo sighed and patted her shoulder.

She beamed at him and shook her head. “I take things in stride. It’s just a new adventure. I was planning on buying something smaller with the profits and using the rest for school.”

“A pragmatic idea,” Barbatos nodded before looking at his watch. “Young master, we have twenty minutes.”

Diavolo pulled from Alex and sighed. “Ah, time waits for no man.”

“Not even you,” Alex teased.

“No, not even me,” Diavolo laughed. “Alex, this was a beautiful experience. I will call you this week, alright?”

She rocked her head. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent. Lucifer, make positive she gets the information of my real estate agent. She shouldn’t have to lift a finger for this,” Diavolo declared as he stood up.

“Of course, Diavolo,” Lucifer agreed.

Diavolo tilted his head as Alex began to clean up the table. “Oh, Alex, if you need a place to stay while searching for property, please let me know.”

“Of course, Diavolo,” she blushed and rocked her head.

Barbatos and Diavolo walked toward a car with tinted windows. Diavolo paused and waved before climbing into the back seat. Alex beamed and waved and watched the car with the license plate ‘DVLSH1’ drive away.

Lucifer gathered the plates and set them on the tray. “I’m apologetic you have to sell your home,” he murmured.

She smiled at him and shrugged her shoulders. “It’s just a house. My family has been gone for longer than the dust collected in the corners.”

“Did you need any help? I have six brothers I could put to work,” he smirked.

She laughed and exhaled. “I mean, I’ve done this mostly alone. I’m sure I can figure it out, Lucifer.”

He checked his watch and sighed. “I have to go.”

She pulled out a scrap of paper and her marker. “Here, so you stop silently asking me,” Alex smiled and handed him her number.

A fucking power move. Where did that come from???

Lucifer smirked and shook his head. “I never said a word.”

“Nope, you didn’t have to, Lucifer. I’ll see you later.”

He nodded and pocketed her number before walking away. Alex breathed and looked down at the tray with shock breaching her expression. Woah, what the fuck was that? She’d never done anything so bold before. Maybe this whole house thing was some weird freedom? That is something for a therapist to go over, not a barista. She shook it off and fixed the patio furniture before heading inside.

@rsmrymnt-tea @otome-scribbles

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la-fille-en-aiguilles · 4 years ago

Text

Blacker Than The Foulest Witch - II

Marauders x Reader - Young!Sirius x Reader eventually

A/N - This is the second part of the story - here’s Part I if you want to catch up. Set during the 1st Wizarding War. Quick warning! - This part contains some violent imagery (blood, etc.). Please be aware! Taglist: @someinsanefangirl (I’m sorry if i forgot to tag someone? Let me know if you wish to be tagged in the future!)

Thank you so much for reading!

The sun was touching the black horizon with a faint red tip by the time the unlikely trio arrived to the Borough of Islington; tension hung heavy in the air, despite Potter’s attempts to diffuse it with bits of awkward small talk. Sirius did not speak, just watched the girl - Y/N - from the corner of his eye every time she made a quiet sound of approval, indicating that she’d actually been listening.

There was something entirely too perplexing about her. She moved with ease and almost swan-like elegance, seemed genuinely interested in whatever vague information Potter threw at her regarding their endeavours during this seemingly never-ending war… All in all, she didn’t seem stressed or hostile towards them.

However, when Sirius reached out his hand to her outside the mansion so that he could apparate her to his family home, she gave him a long and a very chilly look before telling him flat out that she’d rather not touch him.

He must have been quite a sight to contemplate once her answer reached his ears, for Potter gave him yet another warning look. Feeling like an utter moron, Sirius dropped his good hand to a side, his mouth a thin line.

“I will shadow you”, she simply said, like it was supposed to make all the sense in the world. Sirius caught himself frowning while Potter just shrugged. She did look like she knew exactly what she was doing, so none of them asked any more questions as they disappeared into the night. As expected, the girl was there, hot in their steps, as they arrived.

Sirius made sure no one followed them before he led James and Y/N to the square in front of 12 Grimmaud Place. The snarl on his face became even more apparent as they reached the porch. God, he still hated this place with passion - even now, despite it becoming the Order’s primary place of residence. Nothing could ever erase the memories beaten into those walls - or the hate they emanated.

As Sirius whispered the uncloaking spell under his breath and the house started to stretch, he could feel the girl’s intense stare on a side of his face. It had an almost tangible quality to it.

Oddly enough, when Y/N turned back to face the house, he almost missed the feeling of her gaze boring into him. Almost.

“Someone’s hurt”, she suddenly said, her body tensing like a drawn bowstring, her eyes fixed on the door. “He’s dying”, she added, turning her head just a little to a side, as if she was listening in on something.

Sirius felt his heart skip a beat as he shot James a panicked look. Potter’s eyes were wide as he ran up the porch, swinging the door wide open, barging in.

When Sirius burst through the doors, following him, he almost threw up - the stench of blood quickly filled his lungs like water, nearly drowning him in fear. The whole room was whipped into a frightened frenzy - he couldn’t make out any faces in the dim lighting as he rushed to the kitchen table. Even though the body’d been beaten into a bloody mess, one look at the man sufficed to put a name on the victim. Alastor Moody’s magical eye was spinning like an enchanted carousel in its orbit, begging them to do something - anything.

“Out of my way, Sirius!” with his eyes wide and his hands trembling, he felt Molly Weasley push him to a side as she hurried over to Moody with some nasty-smelling potion. He barely registered seeing Evans sitting at the table’s end, holding Alastor’s head in her bloody hands, her eyes pooling with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Alastor, dear, this will hurt”, Molly whispered as if not trusting her voice, pouring the potion all over his ribcage. Despite the pain it must have caused him (as the potion came in contact with his torn-apart skin, it sounded like an egg frying in a red-hot pan), Moody didn’t even utter a sound.

“Molly…” Sirius heard Remus speak from somewhere behind him, breath still caught in his throat. Lupin’s voice sounded so far away… “Molly, there’s nothing… There’s nothing we can do, just…”

“Don’t you boss me around, Remus!” she snapped at him without looking, still perched over Alastor’s body with the potion bottle clenched tight in her tiny hand. “Just another drop, Alastor, last one, I promise…”

“Molly…” someone spoke, their voice hoarse and low - as if they had been screaming for days. “Molly, stop”.

When the red-headed young woman spinned around to face him, with her usually smiling face distorted with pain, Sirius realized that the voice belonged to him.

A barely there sob escaped Lilly’s mouth as she dropped her head like a broken doll; the sound of it so sad, it seemed to break Sirius out of his stupor.

His breaths were now rugged; the rage seemed to take his body and his mind prisoners as he turned around on his heels, pushing his way out of the house.

“Sirius”, he heard Lupin’s voice again, a faint attempt to stop him.

When he didn’t listen, Molly’s shrill tone nearly made his ears bleed.

“Sirius Orion Black! Stop this very second!”

He paid her no mind, running straight into Arthur. They collided in the doorway - seeing nothing but red, Sirius pushed Weasley into the wall, marching on, blood roaring in his ears.

“Just where do you think you’re going, huh?”

He could swear she appeared out of nowhere; lilac sparkles dancing on the surface of her frozen eyes. Her hands crossed on her chest, she flashed him a valiant look. In the back of his feverish mind, Sirius caught himself marvelling at how small she actually was, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulders; yet the craving for blood pushed him forward. She might as well have been the death itself - there was no way of stopping him now.

Without even as much as a quick glance at her beautiful face, Sirius made an attempt to sidestep her… Before he knew it, he was shoved aside, straight into the ancient clock he hated, the wood of the intricate design moaning under his weight.

The force with which she’d pushed him away, like he weighted nothing, left him lying there in the remainders of the family heirloom, gawking at her like a flabbergasted idiot.

It seemed he wasn’t the only one - a new wave of shock with a taste of terror spread all around the room like cancer eating at a body. As if expecting this kind of reaction, Y/N didn’t hesitate as she made her way to Alastor’s lifeless body.

She stopped just a few steps short of the table.

Half-closing her eyes, as if she were in some kind of trance, she rolled her head back, her lips slightly opened. A soft sigh escaped her mouth as she slowly brought her hands into the air, their movements slow and delicate, like those of a ballerina. Her words were barely a whisper as the strands of her hair danced around her head, soft warm glow forming slowly all around her.

Nobody moved. Completely mesmerised and helpless, all they could do was watch.

The air now buzzed with tender kind of energy as quiet sounds of gentle voices echoed in the room. When Y/N lowered her head at last, her eyes fluttered open - her irises shone like liquid gold. With an almost sensual moan, she closed her eyes again, throwing her head back and arching her back.

Sirius watched, hypnotised and unblinking, failing to believe his eyes.

Pure white light, like curls of dense glimmering fog flowed out of her chest; it writhed and creamed, without a sound whatsoever, like a thought trying to form itself on the edge of consciousness. Slowly at first; then all of the sudden it all poured out, blinding and all too warm, caressing Black’s bruised cheekbone, but most importantly, his hand, just moments ago broken to bits.

The glass in the room sang; the chandelier cried softly and then the light started to fade. Sirius blinked something fierce, trying to see without the bright-coloured spots blocking his vision. He was able to catch the last remnants of light as it faded in Y/N’s eyes, before she closed them on a heavy sigh.

A round of suffocating cough filled the room followed by a heavy thump. With his face still covered in blood, Alastor Moody rolled off the table and fell, rather ungraciously, on the dusty floor.

Still staring at Y/N open-mouthed, with her eyes rounder than two galleons and just as shiny, Mollie rushed to Alastor’s side. Once she saw his eyes and heard his mile-long curses signaling that he was, indeed, very much alive, Molly cried out in relief, squishing Moody’s head in her tight embrace.

“You reckless bastard, what in Godric’s name did you do!” Potter cursed out loud, brushing nervous fingers through his hair, wet trails still glistening on his cheeks. His eyes never quit Moody’s frame.

“Come off it, James, he almost died!” Lily chastised him rather weakly, now sitting on her knees, by Moody’s side as well. “How are you feeling, Alastor?” she asked softly, “How do-“

“I died,” Moody suddenly said, sitting up straight as his hands roamed all over his chest. “Those sons of witches, they ambushed me! They-“ he stopped mid sentence, not sensing any cuts or broken ribs under his touch. “What did you- I died, I felt them kill me!”

And the world seemed to freeze all over again, as if enchanted by Alastor’s words. Every person in the room - Remus Lupin, Lily Evans, Molly and Arthur Weasley, Alastor Moody and Sirius Black - turned their eyes towards the girl who brought the wizard from the dead.

In her usual nonchalant yet not overconfident fashion, Y/N slowly raised her chin.

“Do excuse me for intruding on your secret…” she gave it a quick thought. “Fight Club”, she continued with a raise of her eyebrows. “But does any of you know where I can find Igor Karkaroff?…” -

The corridor had been quiet for nearly ten minutes now. Clearing his throat, Remus stole a look at his waiting companion.

With her head resting on her left shoulder, she appeared to be sleeping; but Lupin knew better. The moment the commotion from Moody’s revival settled, and his eyes fell on Y/N he immediately recognised her as one of them. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise - during his long werewolf career, he learned to pick up the signs, no matter how subtle they were.

It was in the curve of her neck. In the movements of her wrists. It was sleeping upon her lips.

The suffering.

He recognised her as one of them - one of his own - one of those who were destined to struggle all their lives for the choices that were made for them.

He didn’t know her story but he knew.

Remus knew that Y/N was one of them.

“So you just brought her here!” Moody’s booming voice whipped the walls of the study again, echoing in the hall. “No questions asked, nothing! You just rolled out the red carpet straight into one of our secret locations because you felt like it! Would you like to whip her a Butter Beer now that she’s here? Maybe offer her some biscuits?”

Remus squirmed at Alastor’s words. For someone who had very narrowly escaped death just mere moment ago, he sure had some strength in those windpipes.

Cursing the reason for which he was, de facto, still alive.

“Don’t… Don’t listen to him”, Remus spoke at once, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand, not looking at Y/N. “He can’t think straight… He was dead just five minutes ago, after all”, Remus reasoned more with himself, nodding his head eagerly.

He stopped dead, however, as soon as a soft melodious laugh reached his ears. Sharply turning his head to face his companion, Remus felt a smile emerging on his scarred lips against his will.

Y/N wasn’t asleep anymore (that is if she’d been sleeping at all). She sat straight in the leather chair by the dirty window, bringing her legs to hug them close to her chest. Throwing her hair to a side, she faced Remus, her features relaxed and peaceful.

“I don’t blame him,” she said with a soft shrug. “I would probably be just as pissed if I was him. I mean… “ she paused, a mischievous gleam glazing over her eyes. “…He was, indeed, dead just five minutes ago”.

Remus held her stare for as long as he could - until the two of them burst out in a fit of infectious laughter, nearly missing on Sirius’ response coming from the other side of the door.

“You have some nerve, Alastor. She brought you back from the dead!!” Black roared like a wounded animal. “I don’t trust her and I don’t think I ever will, but we have to give her a chance to tell us her story before we jump straight to conclusions - we owe her at least that!”

The sound of his voice seemed to bring both Remus and Y/N back to the real world - where a war was raging outside the walls and where wizards were dying by dozens with every passing hour.

“He actually sounds like he doesn’t hate me”, Y/N observed out loud, a bit impressed.

“Who, Sirius?” Remus pushed back against his seat, folding his hands on his chest. “If your surname isn’t Black, then you have nothing to worry about”.

Y/N grunted in response, dropping her gaze to the floor.

“I think I heard him whispering to James that I was probably “Blacker” than his mother”, she shifted her gaze to face Remus again. “Do you think that counts?”

Lupin chuckled whole-heartedly.

“A profession of love? So soon?” he faked astonishment.

A soft laugh bubbled out of Y/N’s chest; it was cut short, however, by the slamming of the door as Alastor Moody resurfaced from the study, his face so red, Remus almost got afraid the veins in his neck would pop like champagne bottles.

“We would like to ask you a few questions, Miss…” Moody managed through gritted teeth, stepping aside to welcome her into the room.

“Y/N”, with her usual grace of a swan, she rose to her feet, throwing Moody a wicked smile. “I would, however, expect a man to remember the name of his saviour”.

Something sounding a lot like a chortle reached her ears, right before Remus cleared his throat.

Gritting his teeth some more, Moody mentioned for Y/N to come in.

His bright blue eye then focused on Remus.

“We won’t wait for Dumbledore”, Alastor announced curtly. “Fetch the Weasleys and Evans, Lupin. I’m sure they’d love to hear the witches’ story.”

#marauders era #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #young sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader #sirius x reader #young sirius x reader

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writer-k-pop · 4 years ago

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Study Dates - Performance

Description: It’s finals week and you join them on a study date. Warnings: Swearing Genre: Fluff

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlists

Jun

You sigh and run your hands through your hair in frustration. These ethics review notes are taking your mind on a rollercoaster through confusion, clarity, and, after a ninety-degree downwards turn, back into confusion.

“Why can’t I remember what this principle was about?” You groan frustrated at yourself but you don’t give into peeking at previous lecture notes because you’re determined to do this on your own.

Jun notices your frustration and looks up from the book he’s reading for his book report/final that’s due in three days. He procrastinates. A lot.

“Whatcha workin’ on?” He asks and leans over the table to look at your notes and study materials.

“Just my ethics review.” You answer him, tapping your pen against your cheek.

“Ethics?” Jun repeats the subject and peers at the concept that you’re stuck on. “Huh.”

“Yeah. So much fun.” You let the sarcasm drip from your lips and return to wracking through your brain for the one principle you’re being asked about in the current slide.

“Huh.” Jun repeats his sound and you look up to find him still leaning over the table.

“What are you doing, Jun?” You ask him with a questioning look.

“Hold on.” Jun says, straining as his body tires out from the odd position he’s in. “Andddddddddd, done. Wow, that’s a complicated question.”

You glance down at your materials and then back up at Jun, “You were reading the question this entire time?”

“Uh, yeah.” Jun scrunches his face up into a ‘duh’ expression, “I was curious. And, for your information, reading upside down is extremely difficult.”

“Did you come up with an answer?” You ask, smiling at his silliness. However, Jun just shakes his head while letting out a dramatic sigh.

Hoshi/Soonyoung

“Okay, okay. I got this. I got this.” Hoshi hypes himself up as you shuffle the flashcards and prepare to quiz him.

“Match the person off of their description.” You tell him and his face falls.

“Ugh, that’s so much harder!” He complains.

You shrug, not really caring, before reading off the first description. “This person was the last queen of France. She was only 14 when she was married. She is famous for saying ‘let them eat cake.’”

“Marie Antoinette!” Hoshi exclaims excitedly.

“Correct!” You start a ‘correct answer’ pile before moving onto the next person, “This person ruled in Russia and was 26 when he took the throne. Their reign saw events like Bloody Sunday of 1905 and World War I.”

“Uh, uh...” Hoshi stutters, searching his brain for the answer. “OH! Nicholas the second!”

“Nice!” You smile with pride as he aces another question. “Okay, next one. This person was a French military and political leader. He fought in the French Revolution and lost the battle at Waterloo in 1815.”

Hoshi’s face stills as he muddles over the information you’ve given him. His eyes widen and narrow repeatedly as he thinks about who the person could be. You wait patiently and hope he guesses the answer correctly and goes 3 for 3.

After a few seconds, Hoshi looks up at you with a shy smile and pokes his cheeks.

“You don’t know?” You ask him and he widens his shy smile. Laughing and shaking your head, you tell him the answer, “Napoleon Bonaparte.”

Hoshi snaps his fingers in shame, “I should’ve know. Ugh, he was even one of the ones I considered! Ugh, how could I have missed that?”

You shrug and place the card in the incorrect pile. “I don’t know, but you gotta study up.”

The8/Minghao

You’ve been at the library for hours and you’re still not done studying. The to-do list that sits next to you stares at you, sitting there and reminding you that you still have a boat load of studying to do to be prepared for finals. A groan escapes from your lips as your head lowers to rest against the stiff open spine of your textbook.

“You good?” Minghao asks, peering up from his book to eye you suspiciously.

You hold up a thumbs up and give him a short groan before dramatically lifting your head and taking in a deep breath. “I don’t think I can study anymore for the day.” You declare.

“Oh, come on. Just a little more?” Minghao coaxes you.

“Minghao.” You deadpan at him, “My brain feels like mush and I’m pretty sure I’m writing in old latin.”

“30 more minutes and then we can leave.” He bargains with you.

“You’re not even studying any more.” You state and nod towards his poetry book still in his hands. “I just wanna go ho-”

“Ah, 30 more minutes and we can go.” Minghao interrupts you.

You pout, “But-”

“No, but’s. 30 minutes.” He cuts you off and buries his head back into his book without another word.

Sighing, you pick up your pen again and refocus on the text in front of you.

A few minutes later, you notice Minghao rummaging through his bag. Looking up, you see him pull out a small polaroid camera and begin to take pictures of himself.

“Wha-?” You aren’t able to finish the word because of how confused and shocked you are.

“I’m done studying.” Minghao states a-matter-of-factly, “And this library backdrop is aesthetic.”

Dino/Chan

“They only had orange juice downstairs.” Dino says, returning to the table with a large-ish bottle of orange juice and two clear cups.

“Well, sugar is sugar, no matter what form it comes in.” You shrug, a little tired from all the studying you’ve been doing.

Dino sits down in his chair before opening the bottle and pouring some juice out for the both of you. “Your sugar fix.” He says and slides a cup closer to you.

You nod, acknowledging the drink but your eyes are focused on the page in front of you. Dino takes a slow sip and just watches you for a couple seconds. He takes in the way your hand grips your hair in concentration and the way your lips form the silent words of your textbook.

“Hey, do you think aliens exist?” You randomly ask Dino and the question takes him by slight surprise.

“Uh...” He pauses to think of how to phrase his next thought, “Why?”

You shrug, “My mind wandered and ended up at aliens. Do you think they exist? Cause like they could, right?” You launch yourself into a mini distraction while Dino listens amused. “The Egyptian Pyramids could’ve been made by aliens but at the same time we have documented record of people making them. And, and like folklore. What if folklore were real aliens on this planet that ancient people deemed gods and what not.” You take a breath and your eyes shine with excited curiosity, “And if they’re real, what language would they speak? Would they be friendly? They’d have to be like super technologically advanced to travel through space like that. I wonder what they look like. Do you wonder what they look like?” You turn your excited gaze to Dino as he brings his drink up to his lips.

He pauses for a second then squints his eyes and gives a light chuckle while nodding his head in agreement, “It’d be interesting if they actually existed.” He sets down his cup as you pick up yours. “Curious though, what caused that tangent?”

You point down at your next and though he can’t really see it, your finger is underneath a word. “I read the phrase ‘technologically advanced’ and poof.”

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welllpthisishappening · 4 years ago

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Welllp This is...Books. Lots and Lots of Books

That gif is something of a lie. Some of these books were not great. But! Some of them were very good! And some of them were marketed weird — seriously, what does qualify as YA — and some of them I read in, like, six hours and some of them I raged about for six hours after I finished them.

Or: 2020!Laura reverted to 2004!Laura and read just a lot of books and then her husband got her a Kindle and she read even more books and has thoughts on most of those books that she is now going to share with the internet while also making absurd category names. Note that these are only books I read for the first time this year. So, the list is missing some of the stuff I used as coping devices. ALSO SOME SPOILERS AHEAD, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

FAVORITE BOOKS THAT MADE A SHITTY YEAR SLIGHTLY BETTER AND ALSO LIKELY MADE ME SWOON A BIT

A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J. Maas

When nineteen-year-old huntress Feyre kills a wolf in the woods, a terrifying creature arrives to demand retribution. Dragged to a treacherous magical land she knows about only from legends, Feyre discovers that her captor is not truly a beast, but one of the lethal, immortal faeries who once ruled her world.

At least, he's not a beast all the time.

As she adapts to her new home, her feelings for the faerie, Tamlin, transform from icy hostility into a fiery passion that burns through every lie she's been told about the beautiful, dangerous world of the Fae. But something is not right in the faerie lands. An ancient, wicked shadow is growing, and Feyre must find a way to stop it, or doom Tamlin-and his world-forever.

— I kid you not, I had to do a lap around the apartment after reading the second book in this series. Why didn’t I read this before? Why isn’t there more fic? Why I am constantly falling for dark-haired sad dudes in love with their wives??? I cannot rec this series enough. It’s got world building and found families, and that dark-haired sad dude, and magic and lore and banter, and it’s so good and I don’t understand why it was marketed as YA. The literary world is weird, guys.

Percy Jackson and the Olympians (and the Heroes of Olympus) by Rick Riordan

Accompany the son of the sea god Poseidon and his other demigod friends as they go on a series of quests that will have them facing monsters, gods, and conniving figures from Greek mythology. Do they have what it takes to save the Olympians from an ancient enemy?

— Straight up, how did you guys cope with Percy and Annabeth when you were kids reading this? I would have been OBSESSED. Quarantine felt like the perfect time to finally read all of these books, and I know it’s sacrilegious to like Heroes of Olympus, but I might have liked parts of that series more? Just because it felt like they were older and I was super into Percabeth being properly in love. Also, now I get why everyone was so upset about the movies. Fair.

The Lunar Chronicles by Marissa Meyer

Humans and androids crowd the raucous streets of New Beijing. A deadly plague ravages the population. From space, a ruthless lunar people watch, waiting to make their move. No one knows that Earth's fate hinges on one girl. . . .Cinder, a gifted mechanic, is a cyborg. She's a second-class citizen with a mysterious past, reviled by her stepmother and blamed for her stepsister's illness. But when her life becomes intertwined with the handsome Prince Kai's, she suddenly finds herself at the center of an intergalactic struggle, and a forbidden attraction. Caught between duty and freedom, loyalty and betrayal, she must uncover secrets about her past in order to protect her world's future.

— Yet another YA series that I will admit to loving this year. Started off a little slow, but once the world building really got underway —and it gets underway — I was hooked. If I had read this at an age-appropriate time I would have been super in love Captain Carswell Thorne. I was still kind of in love with Captan Carswell Thorne. So it should come as no surprise that Cress was my favorite of the series, but I enjoyed the whole thing, really.

Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Two years ago, Louise le Blanc fled her coven and took shelter in the city of Cesarine, forsaking all magic and living off whatever she could steal. There, witches like Lou are hunted. They are feared. And they are burned.As a huntsman of the Church, Reid Diggory has lived his life by one principle: Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live. But when Lou pulls a wicked stunt, the two are forced into an impossible situation—marriage.Lou, unable to ignore her growing feelings, yet powerless to change what she is, must make a choice. And love makes fools of us all.

— YO. Y O. THIS WAS SO GOOD. World building! Magic! Marriage of convenience! Well-written enemies to lovers! As soon as I finished this, I bought the sequel. And then got upset the third book in the series isn’t out yet! That’s a frustrating theme for me this year.

The Roommate by Rosie Danan

The Wheatons are infamous among the east coast elite for their lack of impulse control, except for their daughter Clara. She's the consummate socialite: over-achieving, well-mannered, predictable. But every Wheaton has their weakness. When Clara's childhood crush invites her to move cross-country, the offer is too much to resist. Unfortunately, it's also too good to be true.

After a bait-and-switch, Clara finds herself sharing a lease with a charming stranger. Josh might be a bit too perceptive—not to mention handsome—for comfort, but there's a good chance he and Clara could have survived sharing a summer sublet if she hadn't looked him up on the Internet...

Once she learns how Josh has made a name for himself, Clara realizes living with him might make her the Wheaton's most scandalous story yet. His professional prowess inspires her to take tackling the stigma against female desire into her own hands. They may not agree on much, but Josh and Clara both believe women deserve better sex. What they decide to do about it will change both of their lives, and if they're lucky, they'll help everyone else get lucky too.

— I LOVED IT. L O V E D. As I told Justin “there was more porn than I was expecting,” in that porn and the adult film industry was a legitimate plot point and not just a part of Josh’s character, but it was incredibly well written and interesting and I cared about the plot. Sometimes I also wanted to shake Clara, but that was kind of the point.

The Marriage Game by Sara Desai

After her life falls apart, recruitment consultant Layla Patel returns home to her family in San Francisco. But in the eyes of her father, who runs a Michelin starred restaurant, she can do no wrong. He would do anything to see her smile again. With the best intentions in mind, he offers her the office upstairs to start her new business and creates a profile on an online dating site to find her a man. She doesn't know he's arranged a series of blind dates until the first one comes knocking on her door...

As CEO of a corporate downsizing company Sam Mehta is more used to conflict than calm. In search of a quiet new office, he finds the perfect space above a cozy Indian restaurant that smells like home. But when communication goes awry, he's forced to share his space with the owner's beautiful yet infuriating daughter Layla, her crazy family, and a parade of hopeful suitors, all of whom threaten to disrupt his carefully ordered life.

As they face off in close quarters, the sarcasm and sparks fly. But when the battle for the office becomes a battle of the heart, Sam and Layla have to decide if this is love or just a game.

— More well-written enemies to lovers! It’s possible! Seriously, the banter was so good. The kissing was even better. Ridiculous and interfering family is one of my favorite things, and this had it in SPADES. It also made me want to eat samosas, which is kind of my base setting, but I really wanted Indian food whenever I was reading this. Also, the end scene was so goddamn cute I cannot believe it actually happened.

Recipe for Persuasion by Sonali Dev

— The one that got away is one of my favorite tropes, and this modern version of Persuasion did it so well. Everyone was annoying, but in an almost understandable way that made me ache and I just wanted them TO KISS. And then they did kiss! And it was so good! Plus, at the risk of being a little self-indulgent, it was kind of Out of the Frying Pan esque and I liked that a lot. If there is a downside: it’s how quickly the relationship starts up again, like zero to 60 in two seconds flat, and that there were a lot of POVs. Which wouldn’t have been an issue if they’d been labeled, or weren’t bouncing around the timeline randomly. Sometimes I’d have to be like—wait, who’s talking about what?

Chef Ashna Raje desperately needs a new strategy. How else can she save her beloved restaurant and prove to her estranged, overachieving mother that she isn't a complete screw up? When she's asked to join the cast of Cooking with the Stars, the latest hit reality show teaming chefs with celebrities, it seems like just the leap of faith she needs to put her restaurant back on the map. She's a chef, what's the worst that could happen?Rico Silva, that's what.Being paired with a celebrity who was her first love, the man who ghosted her at the worst possible time in her life, only proves what Ashna has always believed: leaps of faith are a recipe for disaster.FIFA winning soccer star Rico Silva isn't too happy to be paired up with Ashna either. Losing Ashna years ago almost destroyed him. The only silver lining to this bizarre situation is that he can finally prove to Ashna that he's definitely over her.But when their catastrophic first meeting goes viral, social media becomes obsessed with their chemistry. The competition on the show is fierce...and so is the simmering desire between Ashna and Rico. Every minute they spend together rekindles feelings that pull them toward their disastrous past. Will letting go again be another recipe for heartbreak—or a recipe for persuasion...?

The Good Luck Charm by Helena Hunting

Lilah isn't sure what hurt worse: the day Ethan left her to focus on his hockey career or the day he came back eight years later. He might think they can pick up just where they left off, but she's no longer that same girl and never wants to be again.

Just when Lilah might finally be ready to let Ethan in, though, she finds out their reunion might have nothing to do with love and everything to do with improving his game. But Ethan's already lost her once, and even if it costs him his career, he'll do anything to keep from losing her again.

— HOCKEY ROM COM. HOCKEY. ROM. COM. Apparently this lady is regarded as the queen of “hockey romance,” which I kind of take offense to, but will give a pass on because this was a very cute book and everyone was cute in it and I was only marginally frustrated by those same people being idiots. As is required by rom coms. Hockey, or otherwise.

A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer

Fall in love, break the curse. It once seemed so easy to Prince Rhen, the heir to Emberfall. Cursed by a powerful enchantress to repeat the autumn of his eighteenth year over and over, he knew he could be saved if a girl fell for him. But that was before he learned that at the end of each autumn, he would turn into a vicious beast hell-bent on destruction. That was before he destroyed his castle, his family, and every last shred of hope.

Nothing has ever been easy for Harper. With her father long gone, her mother dying, and her brother barely holding their family together while constantly underestimating her because of her cerebral palsy, she learned to be tough enough to survive. But when she tries to save someone else on the streets of Washington, DC, she's instead somehow sucked into Rhen's cursed world.

Break the curse, save the kingdom. A prince? A monster? A curse? Harper doesn't know where she is or what to believe. But as she spends time with Rhen in this enchanted land, she begins to understand what's at stake. And as Rhen realizes Harper is not just another girl to charm, his hope comes flooding back. But powerful forces are standing against Emberfall . . . and it will take more than a broken curse to save Harper, Rhen, and his people from utter ruin.

— Beauty and the Beast AU!!! Fantasy! Magic! Romance! I loved this, even when Rhen was being a whiny idiot. But he was also cursed, so like—fair. This dives into the politics of a cursed kingdom, puts a fun spin on the original fairy tale and also has a sequel. Which I read, and possibly enjoyed more. Only to realize the third book isn’t published yet, and then got annoyed by that.

QUESTIONABLY-GOOD FREE FANTASY BOOKS ON AMAZON

The Silver and Orchids Collection by Shari L Tapscott

What happens when a feisty adventuress, a lord looking to make his own way in the world, and a handsome sea captain set out to find Kalae’s rarest and most valuable flower?

Trouble—and lots of it.

— Snarky flirting! Adventure! Sword fights! Listen, this is not prize-winning fiction, but Lucia is a fun heroine, the rest of her adventure-seeking friends are an absolute delight and you don’t have to think too much while reading it. All four books wrap up their individual storylines, but help set up the next one and while the ending felt a little forced (and way too quick) I didn’t hate it enough to throw the Kindle across the room.

Forest of Firelight by Shari L. Tapscsott

After the sudden death of her brother, Princess Amalia is charged with what feels like an impossible task—she must choose the next king. Youthful thoughts of love are pushed aside as she accepts her fate, setting upon a quest throughout the kingdom to find a man worthy of her father’s throne.

Little does Amalia know, someone has already set his sights on her.

Rhys is a man of secrets, and his mission is simple: befriend the princess of Renove. Coax her to trust him, convince her to follow him.

Betray her when it’s time.

All goes according to plan until Rhys meets the princess. Amalia is a disaster. Never has he met someone so drawn to trouble. Never has he met someone so irritatingly likable.

He’s not allowed to fall for her.

She could never entrust him with a crown.

But, unbeknownst to them, their unlikely partnership might be the key to saving their entire world from a darkness that’s slowly creeping from the wounded earth that separates one kingdom from the next.

— FORBIDDEN LOVE! It’s good! Real good! I read this whole series (or the three books in it, so far) in a questionably short amount of time. Again, not the deepest story, and Amalia is occasionally frustratingly dumb. While Rhys is also sort of all-knowing in that fantasy hero sort of way? Y’know what I mean? Still, they banter very well, and eventually kiss even better.

LESS GOOD FANTASY BOOKS THAT PROBABLY SHOULD HAVE JUST BEEN AVAILABLE FOR FREE ON AMAZON

Ash Princess by Laura Sebastian

Theodosia was six when her country was invaded and her mother, the Fire Queen, was murdered before her eyes. On that day, the Kaiser took Theodosia's family, her land, and her name. Theo was crowned Ash Princess—a title of shame to bear in her new life as a prisoner.

For ten years Theo has been a captive in her own palace. She's endured the relentless abuse and ridicule of the Kaiser and his court. She is powerless, surviving in her new world only by burying the girl she was deep inside.

Then, one night, the Kaiser forces her to do the unthinkable. With blood on her hands and all hope of reclaiming her throne lost, she realizes that surviving is no longer enough. But she does have a weapon: her mind is sharper than any sword. And power isn't always won on the battlefield.

For ten years, the Ash Princess has seen her land pillaged and her people enslaved. That all ends here.

— I wanted to love this series. So much so that I read the whole thing. All three books. And I’m still not sure why. The world building, maybe. Which was very good, and the politics actually kept me interested, but every single character was the absolute worst and I kind of wanted them all to die. That’s not even an exaggeration. Spoiler, they didn’t all die. I was only marginally disappointed.

Daughter of the Pirate King by Tricia Levenseller

When the ruthless Pirate King learns of a legendary treasure map hidden on an enemy ship, his daughter, Alosa, knows that there's only one pirate for the job—herself. Leaving behind her beloved ship and crew, Alosa deliberately facilitates her own kidnapping to ensure her passage on the enemy ship. After all, who's going to suspect a seventeen-year-old girl locked in a cell?Then she meets the (surprisingly perceptive and unfairly attractive) first mate, Riden, who is charged with finding out all her secrets. Now it's down to a battle of wits and will... Can Alosa find the map and escape before Riden figures out her plan?

— Alosa was kind of the worst? Like, STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER who had to keep reminding you how strong she was because she would kill anyone, and had an all female pirate crew. And the whole time I was just like, ok...cool. Still, I read the sequel too and that was slightly better.

The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Alessandra is tired of being overlooked, but she has a plan to gain power:

1) Woo the Shadow King.

2) Marry him.

3) Kill him and take his kingdom for herself.

No one knows the extent of the freshly crowned Shadow King's power. Some say he can command the shadows that swirl around him to do his bidding. Others say they speak to him, whispering the thoughts of his enemies. Regardless, Alessandra knows what she deserves, and she's going to do everything within her power to get it.

But Alessandra's not the only one trying to kill the king. As attempts on his life are made, she finds herself trying to keep him alive long enough for him to make her his queen—all while struggling not to lose her heart. After all, who better for a Shadow King than a cunning, villainous queen?

— I cannot explain this book any way except to tell you it is so weird. Like, sometimes I remember I read this and all I can think is: why did this book happen? It felt like it started in the middle of the story, which is not a knock on the story itself, but mostly on the world building. Which was lacking to say the least. Also the resolution was super rushed and even more weird and I was like—why does he like her??? I still don’t know, honestly.

The Stars We Steal by Alexa Donne

Engagement season is in the air. Eighteen-year-old Princess Leonie "Leo" Kolburg, heir to a faded European spaceship, has only one thing on her mind: which lucky bachelor can save her family from financial ruin?

But when Leo's childhood friend and first love, Elliot, returns as the captain of a successful whiskey ship, everything changes. Elliot was the one who got away, the boy Leo's family deemed to be unsuitable for marriage. Now he's the biggest catch of the season and he seems determined to make Leo's life miserable. But old habits die hard, and as Leo navigates the glittering balls of the Valg Season, she finds herself falling for her first love in a game of love, lies, and past regrets.

— Another book whose lack of world building hurt it. Stuff just happened, and we were expected to understand it and be into it and I was neither. I had no reason to care about anyone in this book, especially Elliot who seemed like an asshole.

To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

Princess Lira is siren royalty and the most lethal of them all. With the hearts of seventeen princes in her collection, she is revered across the sea. Until a twist of fate forces her to kill one of her own. To punish her daughter, the Sea Queen transforms Lira into the one thing they loathe most—a human. Robbed of her song, Lira has until the winter solstice to deliver Prince Elian's heart to the Sea Queen and or remain a human forever.The ocean is the only place Prince Elian calls home, even though he is heir to the most powerful kingdom in the world. Hunting sirens is more than an unsavory hobby—it's his calling. When he rescues a drowning woman in the ocean, she's more than what she appears. She promises to help him find the key to destroying all of sirenkind for good—But can he trust her? And just how many deals will Elian have to barter to eliminate mankind's greatest enemy?

— This book did not go the way I thought it was going to. Not a bad thing, but also not the best and the ending was...bleh. The middle, though? That was legit, and the action was good. I am always a fan of sword fights. Still, there was something that left me waiting for the final push towards great and it just never really came.

ROM-COMS WITH ONLY PASSABLY FRUSTRATING PLOTS AND GOOD KISSING

Party of Two by Jasmine Guillory

Dating is the last thing on Olivia Monroe's mind when she moves to LA to start her own law firm. But when she meets a gorgeous man at a hotel bar and they spend the entire night flirting, she discovers too late that he is none other than hotshot junior senator Max Powell. Olivia has zero interest in dating a politician, but when a cake arrives at her office with the cutest message, she can't resist—it is chocolate cake, after all.

Olivia is surprised to find that Max is sweet, funny, and noble—not just some privileged white politician, as she assumed him to be. Because of Max's high-profile job, they start seeing each other secretly, which leads to clandestine dates and silly disguises. But when they finally go public, the intense media scrutiny means people are now digging up her rocky past and criticizing her job, even her suitability as a trophy girlfriend. Olivia knows what she has with Max is something special, but is it strong enough to survive the heat of the spotlight?

— It was cute. Max was occasionally an idiot. The kissing was legit. Most of their problems could have very easily been solved, but that’s kind of this genre’s schtick.

The Worst Best Man by Mia Sosa

A wedding planner left at the altar? Yeah, the irony isn't lost on Carolina Santos, either. But despite that embarrassing blip from her past, Lina's offered an opportunity that could change her life. There's just one hitch... she has to collaborate with the best (make that worst) man from her own failed nuptials. Marketing expert Max Hartley is determined to make his mark with a coveted hotel client looking to expand its brand. Then he learns he'll be working with his brother's whip-smart, stunning—absolutely off-limits—ex-fiancée. And she loathes him.If they can nail their presentation without killing each other, they'll both come out ahead. Except Max has been public enemy number one ever since he encouraged his brother to jilt the bride, and Lina's ready to dish out a little payback of her own.Soon Lina and Max discover animosity may not be the only emotion creating sparks between them. Still, this star-crossed couple can never be more than temporary playmates because Lina isn't interested in falling in love and Max refuses to play runner-up to his brother ever again...

— Once you got past the hooking up with your ex’s brother thing, it was cute. Max was endearing in an earnest sort of way, even when Lina was STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER in a cliche sort of way. More solid kissing. Side note, why are so many rom com dudes named Max? Does it sound hip? Passably cool, but also approachable? Discuss.

Not that Kind of Guy by Andie J. Christopher

State attorney Bridget Nolan is successful in all aspects of her life—except romance. After breaking up with her longtime boyfriend, she's been slow to reenter the dating scene. To be honest, she has more important things to do like putting bad guys behind bars. But with her brother's wedding right around the corner, she suddenly needs a date and fast. Lucky for Bridget, the legal intern is almost done with his program.

Matt Kido is dumbstruck by Bridget—total love at first sight—but there's one problem. She's totally off-limits while she's his boss. But the moment he no longer reports to her, Matt asks her on a date. An impulsive decision takes them to Las Vegas where, as the saying goes, what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.

Unless you put a ring on it.

— Having written the “wake up in Vegas married” trope before, I know it’s difficult to do right. Consent’s a thing, y’know? And stuff gets dicy with forgotten memories, and all that, but mostly what kept me from truly loving this book was the intern thing. Don’t date your interns guys, it’s weird and off-putting. Literally if he’d just been a junior partner, or a visiting partner or something else I would have been all in.

Meet Cute by Helena Hunting

Kailyn Flowers was always calm, rational, and controlled—until she ended up sprawled all over Daxton Hughes, the former actor she totally crushed on as a teenager. Then she did the unthinkable: She became a mortifying fangirl in five seconds flat, which may or may not have included professing her undying love. And oddly, he didn't run away. In fact, their meet cute led to a friendship she never saw coming. Of course, she never saw his betrayal coming, either...Now Dax needs her help. As guardian to his thirteen-year-old sister, he's in way over his head. And though Kailyn hasn't forgiven Dax, she isn't heartless enough to make him fend for himself, either. Soon their friendly meetings turn into flirty dinner dates, and Kailyn can feel their chemistry is as explosive as ever. But how can she possibly let down her guard again to a guy who has heartbreak written all over him?

— Once again here for the one that got away trope, even if this comes with dead parents and some sad storylines. It still managed to be cute. Everyone was cute in it. Occasionally Daxton was a dick. As rom com male leads are apt to be.

If I Never Met You by Mhairi McFarlane

If faking love is this easy... how do you know when it's real?When her partner of over a decade suddenly ends things, Laurie is left reeling—not only because they work at the same law firm and she has to see him every day. Her once perfect life is in shambles and the thought of dating again in the age of Tinder is nothing short of horrifying. When news of her ex's pregnant girlfriend hits the office grapevine, taking the humiliation lying down is not an option. Then a chance encounter in a broken-down elevator with the office playboy opens up a new possibility.Jamie Carter doesn't believe in love, but he needs a respectable, steady girlfriend to impress their bosses. Laurie wants a hot new man to give the rumor mill something else to talk about. It's the perfect proposition: a fauxmance played out on social media, with strategically staged photographs and a specific end date in mind. With the plan hatched, Laurie and Jamie begin to flaunt their new couple status, to the astonishment—and jealousy—of their friends and colleagues. But there's a fine line between pretending to be in love and actually falling for your charming, handsome fake boyfriend...

— FAKE DATING THAT LEADS TO REAL FEELINGS. The ex-boyfriend was an assssss, the fake boyfriend was charming, everything was good AND THEN WE GOT TO THE END. Which felt more than a little rushed, unexpected and not really in line with the rest of the book?? Give ‘em a slightly better, in-character ending, and I would have been sold.

BOOKS THAT I WAS LIKE...EH, OK

The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

The circus arrives without warning. No announcements precede it. It is simply there, when yesterday it was not. Within the black-and-white striped canvas tents is an utterly unique experience full of breathtaking amazements. It is called Le Cirque des Rêves, and it is only open at night.

But behind the scenes, a fierce competition is underway: a duel between two young magicians, Celia and Marco, who have been trained since childhood expressly for this purpose by their mercurial instructors. Unbeknownst to them both, this is a game in which only one can be left standing. Despite the high stakes, Celia and Marco soon tumble headfirst into love, setting off a domino effect of dangerous consequences, and leaving the lives of everyone, from the performers to the patrons, hanging in the balance.

— I think this book was too smart for me. The prose was gorgeous, and the whole thing was very pretty and I definitely swooned when Marco said he wished for Celia. And yet. By the end I was like...eh, ok. Maybe it was the timeline? Jumping around, or how little dialogue there was. I wanted to like it all so badly, and I’m just not sure I did.

Acting on Impulse by Mia Sosa

After a very public breakup with a media-hungry politician, fitness trainer Tori Alvarez escapes to Aruba for rest, relaxation, and copious amounts of sex on the beach—the cocktail, that is. She vows to keep her vacation a man-free zone but when a cute guy is seated next to her on the plane, Tori can't resist a little harmless flirting.Hollywood heartthrob Carter Stone underwent a dramatic physical transformation for his latest role and it's clear his stunning seat mate doesn't recognize the man beneath the shaggy beard and extra lean frame. Now Carter needs help rebuilding his buff physique and Tori is perfect for the job. It doesn't hurt that she makes his pulse pound in more ways than one.Sparks are flying, until a pesky paparazzo reveals Carter's identity. Tori is hurt and pissed. She wants nothing to do with another man in the limelight, but she's still got to whip him into shape. Can Carter convince Tori he's worth the threat to her privacy that comes with dating a famous actor, or will Tori chisel him down to nothing before he even gets the chance?

— Dudes have gotta stop lying about who they are. It’s not a great trope. Other than that, the kissing was good. The romance was like...eh. I honestly don’t remember much else.

Twice in a Blue Moon by Christina Lauren

During a whirlwind two-week vacation abroad, Sam and Tate fell for each other in only the way that first loves do: sharing all of their hopes, dreams, and deepest secrets along the way. Sam was the first, and only, person that Tate—the long-lost daughter of one of the world's biggest film stars—ever revealed her identity to. So when it became clear her trust was misplaced, her world shattered for good.

Fourteen years later, Tate, now an up-and-coming actress, only thinks about her first love every once in a blue moon. When she steps onto the set of her first big break, he's the last person she expects to see. Yet here Sam is, the same charming, confident man she knew, but even more alluring than she remembered. Forced to confront the man who betrayed her, Tate must ask herself if it's possible to do the wrong thing for the right reason... and whether "once in a lifetime" can come around twice.

— This book was...weird. The early romance was wonderful and delightful, but then shit hit the fan and Sam and Tate are adults and...weird. Like, I cannot come up with another word for it. Also, they didn’t really talk much? As adults? Working on the same movie set? W e i r d.

I Owe You One by Sophie Kinsella

Fixie Farr has always lived by her father’s motto: “Family first.” And since her dad passed away, leaving his charming housewares store in the hands of his wife and children, Fixie spends all her time picking up the slack from her siblings instead of striking out on her own. The way Fixie sees it, if she doesn’t take care of her father’s legacy, who will?

It’s simply not in Fixie’s nature to say no to people. So when a handsome stranger in a coffee shop asks her to watch his laptop for a moment, she not only agrees—she ends up saving it from certain disaster. To thank Fixie for her quick thinking, the computer’s owner, Sebastian, an investment manager, scribbles an IOU on a coffee sleeve and attaches his business card. Fixie laughs it off—she’d never actually claim an IOU from a stranger. Would she?

But then Fixie’s childhood crush, Ryan, comes back into her life, and his lack of a profession pushes all of Fixie’s buttons. As always, she wants nothing for herself—but she’d love Seb to give Ryan a job. No sooner has Seb agreed than the tables are turned once more and a new series of IOUs between Seb and Fixie—from small favors to life-changing moments—ensues. Soon Fixie, Ms. Fixit for everyone else, is torn between her family and the life she really wants. Does she have the courage to take a stand? Will she finally grab the life, and love, she really wants?

— Let’s be upfront, I’ve read a lot of Sophie Kinsella in my life, and more often than not I enjoy what she writes. I mostly did here. It was a book. With obvious rom com problems, that could have very easily been solved, but it wasn’t horrible. So, that was good, I guess.

The Wedding Party by Jasmine Guillory

Maddie and Theo have two things in common:

1. Alexa is their best friend

2. They hate each other

After an "oops, we made a mistake" night together, neither one can stop thinking about the other. With Alexa's wedding rapidly approaching, Maddie and Theo both share bridal party responsibilities that require more interaction with each other than they're comfortable with. Underneath the sharp barbs they toss at each other is a simmering attraction that won't fade. It builds until they find themselves sneaking off together to release some tension when Alexa isn't looking, agreeing they would end it once the wedding is over. When it's suddenly pushed up and they only have a few months left of secret rendezvouses, they find themselves regretting that the end is near. Two people this different can't possibly have a connection other than the purely physical, right?

But as with any engagement with a nemesis, there are unspoken rules that must be abided by. First and foremost, don't fall in love.

— Eh, this book happened. I still have no idea why they couldn’t be together from the get. Obstacles for the sake of plot, I guess. Also political side stories? I don’t know, guys.

WEIRD POST-ENDING FEELINGS WERE INDUCED

Beach Read by Emily Henry

Augustus Everett is an acclaimed author of literary fiction. January Andrews writes bestselling romance. When she pens a happily ever after, he kills off his entire cast.

They're polar opposites.

In fact, the only thing they have in common is that for the next three months, they're living in neighboring beach houses, broke, and bogged down with writer's block.

Until, one hazy evening, one thing leads to another and they strike a deal designed to force them out of their creative ruts: Augustus will spend the summer writing something happy, and January will pen the next Great American Novel. She'll take him on field trips worthy of any rom-com montage, and he'll take her to interview surviving members of a backwoods death cult (obviously). Everyone will finish a book and no one will fall in love. Really.

— Listen, I enjoyed this a lot. For the most part. It was funny, and introspective in a way that didn’t make me want to gag too much, and I wanted to defend January’s love of love with everything in me. But, then it—ended. And it was like...all tied up with this nice little ribbon and happily ever after, and I was like...oh, ok. Part of me that it was glad it ended like that, mostly because of who I am as a person, but the rest of me was also confused that after everything January and Augustus had been through and how messy their lives were it could just get all wrapped up in this HEA.

HITTING JUST A BIT TOO CLOSE TO HOME

Spoiler Alert by Olivia Dade

Marcus Caster-Rupp has a secret. The world may know him as Aeneas, star of the biggest show on television, but fanfiction readers call him something else: Book!AeneasWouldNever. Marcus gets out his frustrations with the show through anonymous stories about the internet's favorite couple, Aeneas and Lavinia. But if anyone discovered his online persona, he'd be finished in Hollywood.April Whittier has secrets of her own. A hardcore Lavinia fan, she's long hidden her fanfic and cosplay hobbies from her "real life"—but not anymore. When she dares to post her latest costume creation on Twitter, her plus-size take goes viral. And when Marcus asks her out to spite her internet critics, truth officially becomes stranger than fanfiction. On their date, Marcus quickly realizes he wants more from April than a one-time publicity stunt. But when he discovers she's Unapologetic Lavinia Stan, his closest fandom friend, he has one more huge secret to keep from her.With love and Marcus's career on the line, can the two of them stop hiding once and for all, or will a match made in fandom end up prematurely cancelled?

— Here for plus-size heroines who get the guy and don’t have their (entire) storyline defined by their looks. Less here for the weird fandom culture, the ensuing second-hand embarrassment that came from that and the thankfulness that both Colin O’Donoghue and Bob Morley appear to be happily married so it seems very unlikely they’re writing fic about their characters under pseudonyms. Stop using Ao3 in actual published stories 2k4ever.

RAGE-INDUCING BOOKS OF ABSOLUTE FURY

The Friend Zone by Abby Jimenez

Kristen Peterson doesn't do drama, will fight to the death for her friends, and has no room in her life for guys who just don't get her. She's also keeping a big secret: facing a medically necessary procedure that will make it impossible for her to have children.Planning her best friend's wedding is bittersweet for Kristen — especially when she meets the best man, Josh Copeland. He's funny, sexy, never offended by her mile-wide streak of sarcasm, and always one chicken enchilada ahead of her hangry. Even her dog, Stuntman Mike, adores him. The only catch: Josh wants a big family someday. Kristen knows he'd be better off with someone else, but as their attraction grows, it's harder and harder to keep him at arm's length.The Friend Zone will have you laughing one moment and grabbing for tissues the next as it tackles the realities of infertility and loss with wit, heart, and a lot of sass.

— LISTEN THERE ARE SPOILERS HERE, BUT I FEEL LIKE YOU SHOULD KNOW ABOUT THEM BECAUSE THIS BOOK IS A SECRET GUT PUNCH AND PEOPLE SHOULD BE AWARE. Not only is infertility, like, the defining theme of this book, but the BEST FRIEND DIES. Just—dies. It’s horrible. Absolutely God awful depressing. And for a second he looks like he won’t, and it’ll be fine, but then it is not and he’s just D E A D. I know, I know that sets up the sequel, but this was so goddamn heavy in an unsuspecting way that I have absolutely no intention of reading the next one.

Well Met by Jen DeLuca

Emily knew there would be strings attached when she relocated to the small town of Willow Creek, Maryland, for the summer to help her sister recover from an accident, but who could anticipate getting roped into volunteering for the local Renaissance Faire alongside her teenaged niece? Or that the irritating and inscrutable schoolteacher in charge of the volunteers would be so annoying that she finds it impossible to stop thinking about him?

The faire is Simon's family legacy and from the start he makes clear he doesn't have time for Emily's lighthearted approach to life, her oddball Shakespeare conspiracy theories, or her endless suggestions for new acts to shake things up. Yet on the faire grounds he becomes a different person, flirting freely with Emily when she's in her revealing wench's costume. But is this attraction real, or just part of the characters they're portraying?

This summer was only ever supposed to be a pit stop on the way to somewhere else for Emily, but soon she can't seem to shake the fantasy of establishing something more with Simon or a permanent home of her own in Willow Creek.

— FUCK THIS BOOK. And fuck Simon, specifically. Oh, you have a sad story? Cool, you’re still a dick. He was a dick. Listen, I know enemies to lovers is a hard trope to write, but it’s even harder to accept when those enemies just announce I LIKED YOU THE WHOLE TIME and then everyone starts ripping off their clothes. No, it’s dumb. I hate it. Apparently there’s a sequel to this book. Maybe that’s better.

Kiss My Cupcake by Helena Hunting

Blaire Calloway has planned every Instagram-worthy moment of her cupcake and cocktails shop launch down to the tiniest detail. What she didn't plan on? Ronan Knight and his old-school sports bar next door opening on the very same day. He may be super swoony, but Blaire hasn't spent years obsessing over buttercream and bourbon to have him ruin her chance at success.From axe throwing (his place) to frosting contests (hers), Blaire and Ronan are constantly trying to one-up each other in a battle to win new customers. But with every clash, there's also an undeniable chemistry. When an even bigger threat to their business comes to town, they're forced to call a temporary time-out on their own war and work together. And the more time Blaire spends getting to know the real Ronan, the more she wonders if it's possible to have her cupcake and eat it too.

— Listen, I wanted to like this one. There were plenty other Helena Hunting books on this list, so like—I don’t hate her. I just hate poorly executed enemies to lovers plot lines. Give me at least one moment where they are interested in each other aside from just being attracted to each other. Also: Stop Having Dudes Be Dicks Because Of Their Sad Backstory 2k4ever.

Don’t You Forget About Me by Mhairi McFarlane

You always remember your first love... don't you?If there's anything worse than being fired from the worst restaurant in town, it's coming home early to find your boyfriend in bed with someone else. Reeling from the humiliation of a double dumping in one day, Georgina takes the next job that comes her way—bartender in a newly opened pub. There's only one problem: it's run by the guy she fell in love with years ago. And—make that two problems—he doesn't remember her. At all. But she has fabulous friends and her signature hot pink fur coat... what more could a girl really need?Lucas McCarthy has not only grown into a broodingly handsome man, but he's also turned into an actual grown-up, with a thriving business and a dog along the way. Crossing paths with him again throws Georgina's rocky present into sharp relief—and brings a secret from her past bubbling to the surface. Only she knows what happened twelve years ago, and why she's allowed the memories to chase her ever since. But maybe it's not too late for the truth... or a second chance with the one that got away?

— HE WAS JUST PRETENDING NOT TO REMEMBER HER THE WHOLE TIME???? WHAT?? WHY??? D U M B. Dumb boys are dumb.

Not the Girl You Marry by Andie J. Christopher

Jack Nolan is a gentleman, a journalist, and unlucky in love. His viral success has pigeon-holed him as the how-to guy for a buzzy, internet media company instead of covering hard-hitting politics. Fed up with his fluffy articles and the app-based dating scene as well, he strikes a deal with his boss to write a final piece de resistance: How to Lose a Girl. Easier said than done when the girl he meets is Hannah Mayfield, and he's not sure he wants her to dump him.

Hannah is an extremely successful event planner who's focused on climbing the career ladder. Her firm is one of the most prestigious in the city, and she's determined to secure her next promotion. But Hannah has a bit of an image problem. She needs to show her boss that she has range, including planning dreaded, romantic weddings. Enter Jack. He's the perfect man to date for a couple weeks to prove to her boss that she's not scared of feelings.

Before Jack and Hannah know it, their fake relationship starts to feel all too real—and neither of them can stand to lose each other.

— This is actually the prequel to Not That Kind of Guy and I honestly can’t believe I read that after hating this book so much. They were awful to each other! Their whole relationship was based on lies! Mean lies! Horrible lies! Don’t lie to your significant other!

#book recs #fiction recs #rom com recs #fantasy recs #or: i read solely fantasy and rom com books in 2020 #this does not include any david eddings or meg cabot rereads #which also happened #and i endorse them wholeheartedly too #if you have read any of these books PLEASE share your thoughts with me #i am desperate for them #or your own recs of what you read this year #laura reads books #welllp these are books

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