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serendipityjxmn · 3 years

Text

Mr. President

Chapter 22

TW: None

Words Count: 2.4k

Link to Masterlist

Link to Chapter 23

The doctor lets you come home that Saturday. You notice your husband is home all the time and some days Taehyung or Hoseok or even Jungkook would drop by to send him some files. You tell him you’d be fine on your own but he just brushes you off. He doesn’t shut himself off in his study too, instead he does his work on the study table in the master bedroom near you.

It still feels weird that your husband has completely changed in the time span that you’re in the hospital. He really sticks to his word and tries a lot for you. He’s not being mean to you, he doesn’t snap at you all the time except perhaps when you’re trying to do houseworks because you’re starting to get bored now.

He tries to make it up by bringing in all sorts of art set, empty canvases or easels for you to paint, that the bedroom is starting to look like an art studio. But it’s all done under his immense scrutiny, in case you ‘use too much of your shoulder’ as he says.

You’re still a little afraid of him, not yet coming completely into terms with the mafia side of his, body instinctively jerking away when he’s doing something remotely triggering your sense of alarm. You feel guilty because he never says anything about it, like saying you’re overreacting. He simply understands the trauma he causes so he puts a lot of effort to make sure he doesn’t do more than what you can handle, doesn’t do things that make you jump or touch you in any ways more than necessary.

Sometimes he’d go out briefly to attend necessary business matters and comes home with bouquets of flowers, jewelleries or any sorts of gifts.

And then even though he’s bad at it, he tries to cook for you and little by little you try to embrace him wholly, just by seeing how much he tries to make up for his ‘dark side’. And you adore him for putting so much effort.

He also starts to bring you along when he has his regular sparring sessions while practicing self-defence and martial arts just so you could learn how to defend yourself- what with being the wife of a mafia leader and all. Although of course, you can’t do anything yet so you just sit through the whole two hour watching a bunch of half naked men throwing punches at each other.

As you sit through the sparring session between your husband and Taeseok one day, you can’t help but wonder if your husband has a hidden grudge against him from the way he throws his punches. Once they’re done, you approach Taeseok first without thinking, asking if he’s okay. He seems flustered at first and quickly mutters, “I’m fine, Mrs. Park,” before dismissing himself.

You follow your husband as he heads to the locker room to change.

“Do you really have to hit him that hard? It’s just a sparring session,” you say.

He suddenly stops in his tracks, making you almost bump into his back and then swiftly turns around, narrowing his eyes at you. “Mrs. Park. Are you seriously worrying about another man right now?”

Before you could process it, he pushes you against the locker but in a very careful way, holding your waist instead of your shoulders and a gasp escapes your lips. “Hmm.. how do I punish you for that?”

For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss your lips but then he dips down to your neck and lightly bit it, and your heartbeat rate went from 60 to 150 per minute real quick. You glare at him when he pulls back only to see him smirking at you before he turns on his heel towards the shower.

For the first time ever, you curse your husband.

“I’m gonna have to return to the office soon.” Jimin says while you both are having dinner at home.

You nod. You know it’s inevitable and he would have to return to the company soon. It’s just a matter of time.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay at home?” He asks and you roll your eyes.

“I have three helpers and six bodyguards now, what exactly can happen to me?” You shake your head with a smile. Since your return home, he’d increased the amount of staffs and bodyguards assigned to you.

He reaches for your hand and smiles apologetically. “It’s for your own safety.”

You nod at him. “I know.”

It’s silent after that until he puts down his cutleries. “I’ve been thinking.. perhaps it’s time for me to step down from being the mafia leader.. BTS.”

You swallow but doesn’t say anything.

“I just thought that.. if I want to have a proper marriage with you and start a real family.. well, it won’t help if the father’s constantly targeted by enemies.”

You take a deep breath. “I.. it’s up to you. I... I don’t really... know..”

He gives you a quick smile. “Of course I can’t just put my feet down and wash my hand completely but.. I’ll try to pull back and not step in unless it’s really needed.”

“What does.. you know, BTS do anyways?”

He smiles wickedly. “You wanna know?”

You suddenly think it’s a very bad idea. “I.. I don’t know.. Do you.. do you just- you know.. take people out for fun? Or..”

He chuckles. “No.. no we don’t do that. If it assures you, we don’t kill innocent people. We.. offer like a service, like a hired mercenary to take out people or do some work for the government when they don’t want their hands dirty but they’re all evil people. Those that we.. take out. And doing those kind of things inevitably give you enemies.. but we try not to engage in gang fights unless they start it first.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine. “O... kay..”

His lips quirk up at you. “And that’s it. The rest of the details.. let’s just say they’re unnecessary for you to know.” He stand up then and leans in to peck your forehead quickly. “I’ll be in the study.” He says. You stay in your seat for a moment longer, processing the details of your conversation with your husband. You appreciate that he’s being honest with you a lot more now and doesn’t keep things from you but you can’t help the goosebumps that start to form on your arms whenever he tells you things about the dark side.

It’s been about a week since Jimin has started working at the office again. You fork at your food, no longer having the appetite to finish it. Because you’re too nervous to say something to your husband. You keep glancing at him as he eats that one night, trying to gauge his mood and gathering your courage all at the same time.

Finally, you take a deep breath. “Can I go out with Jungkook tomorrow?”

He doesn’t answer immediately.

You want to go out with Jungkook. You and him had talked a lot about arts before. And this afternoon, he texted you about an art school he found that you’ve been searching for.

“What for?” He asks.

“What do you mean what for?”

He narrows his eyes. “Why do you want to go out with him?”

“I.. have something to.. buy?” You cock your head to one side.

“Isn’t Taeseok enough? You can take him or even Daniel with you. Are you even well enough to go out?”

“It’s been a month since I’ve been discharged..” you pout. “Please..?”

“I’ll come with you then.”

“No! I know you have an important meeting tomorrow. Besides, I’ll be fine with Jungkook.”

There’s a reason why you want Jungkook to come with you. And also because you want to buy your husband a gift. But you can’t tell him that.

He glares. “It’s dangerous to go out with a gang member. Jungkook’s a kid. I don’t trust him with you.”

You struggle not to roll your eyes. “Jimin, I’m literally the same age with him.”

“That makes two kids then.”

You sigh in exasperation. “Jimin please..”

He clenches his jaw. “Fine. If anything happens, I’m not gonna be there.” And with that, he storms out of the kitchen.

You feel like crying. You’ve been getting along so good with him lately and now you’ve ruined it. You have no idea why he’s being so irrelevant. If anything, Jungkook’s probably the best at hand combat, or second best to Jimim at least, you can’t compare due to their different combat style. But nevertheless, he’s highly skilled despite his young age.

You sigh.

“Hey Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. “He’ll come around.”

You smile sadly.

“He’ll realize he’s being stupid so no worries okay?”

You smile at his words then nod. Alright, it’ll be very rude to Jungkook if you keep being out of it when you’re here with him.

“We’re here.” He says as the car pulls into the parking lot. You look out the window. It��s an art school for the special kids. You can’t believe he really found the place for it. You have to thank him or the BTS connections.

When you and Jungkook enters, you are both greeted by one of the school teacher. She brings you both for a tour around the place and you’ve never felt so fascinated with everything.

The reason why you’re searching for this kind of school is because you want to donate to the school. You received a huge sum of insurance money after being hospitalized which you’ve no idea when and how your husband registered for it.

You briefly mentioned about searching for the school to Jungkook because for some reason you feel like he can find anything. And he did.

You thought perhaps Jungkook may feel bored coming out with you. But he seems even more enthusiastic than you. You know he’s very much talented in arts because Jimin has one of his painting back at home and it’s super gorgeous. But you don’t know that he knows this much about arts. He also explains how the school operates from business perspective that leaves you in awe. He really is a businessman that does his research. You smile when you see him play with kids, he’s super kind with them. He bought art sets for a lot of the students which unfortunately was not enough for everyone so he promised he’ll send more for the rest of the kids. Jungkook’s a really nice kid, you think. You smile sheepishly thinking you didn’t bring anything for them.

When the tour with the art school is done, you drag Jungkook to do some shopping with you. For some reason, you feel like buying your husband a gift. Simply because he had been such a huge support ever since you were hospitalized. It’s the only way you could think of to repay him for all the amount of things he had made easier for you and the understanding he shows without having you to say a word.

It’s almost dark when you finally reach home that night. As soon as you step out of the car, you feel slightly disoriented and would’ve doubled over the ground if it wasn’t because of Taeseok, your bodyguard who was trailing from behind immediately holding you.

“Are you alright, Mrs. Park?”

You nod. “Just a little lightheaded.” You quickly dismiss it and enter the house.

Once you’ve finished showering, you set out to search for Jimin. He wasn’t in the bedroom. You head to his study. Still empty. You frown, wondering where he is. You set back downstairs and once again you almost lost balance completely, the stairs’ image doubling for a split second.

What’s with the sudden headache? You almost want to ask your head.

Head still spinning, you head towards the lounge room and from outside the room, you hear the muffled sound from the TV. When you enter, you see your husband in his pyjama pants and casual T-shirt. He’s watching TV, which is very rare, you think.

He briefly glances at you as you make your way towards him but makes no effort to say anything.

“Jimin..? Are you still mad at me?”

He doesn’t look up. You stand awkwardly beside him.

“I’m back in one piece.” You try to joke.

He glares at this. Oops, not funny it seems.

You hesitantly sit next to him. “Can I borrow your hand?” When he won’t look at you, you take his hand in yours. And suddenly his head snaps towards you when you’re about to reach for the gift behind you. You gasp when he clasped his fingers tighter. Then his other hand touches your forehead.

“Why are you so hot?” He asks.

“Am I?” You giggle. The question sounds a little funny.

He rolls his eyes then proceeds to touch your neck. “You’re having a fever.”

“Am I?”

He narrows his eyes at you, clearly not finding the situation funny. “I let you out with the kid for a day and you come home sick.”

“It’s not his fault..”

He narrows his eyes at you and you shut your mouth immediately. “Stay here. I’ll fetch the thermometer.” You reach for his hand immediately.

“Please sit down. I have something to give you.”

He frowns but does as he’s told.

Smiling, you reach for the gift. “I bought something for you today..” He stares as you open it and gently place it on his wrist. “It’s not that expensive like your other watches.. but um.. It’s a watch and a bracelet. With our name...”

He stares at the gift. Then he looks at you softly. “Thank you. I love it.” He leans forward very, very slowly and even though you can anticipate it, your heart is not ready. He plants a kiss on your forehead and you feel your own heart rate picking up. You think you’ll faint at any second. Your rapid heartbeat and a buzzing head, not a good combination.

“Are you still mad at me?” Your eyes almost flutter close.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not mad, idiot. I’m just worried.” He puts a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s very easy for you to be targeted if you’re out with the members.. I don’t want to put you through any of that ever again because of me..”

You shut your eyes. Because your husband’s soft voice is really like a lullaby. Also because you can’t hold it anymore. You fell into into his arms and he catches you easily.

He gently carries you in his arms to the bedroom. His heart full of adoration for you.

I’m bad at writing fluffs but I hope this is super sweet and smooth like butter to make you guys smile 🤣 also, thanks for the warm words in previous chapters 🥺 you guys are amazing!!!!!

Buy me a cup of coffee here! 💜

Link to Chapter 23

Posted on 210522 9:00PM

#serendipityjxmn #serendipityjxmnmrpresident #mrpresident #mr president #bts fic #bts au #bts smut #jimin au #park jimin #parkjimin #kpop fic #jimin smut #jimin ceo #jimin mafia #bts mafia #jimin x reader

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nataliedanovelist · 3 years

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GF & MvsM - Wanna Talk About Dinos?

This crossover was inevitable. It just works too well. Maybe one day i’ll write a fic about how the folks at Gravity Falls handled the robot-apocalypse. Probably shrugged it off. “Eh. We’ve had worse.” Haha! What if Stan and Ford, cuz they were out sailing, had no clue what happened and when they came back they were like, “Wait, what?”

For now, please enjoy this fic of Aaron making a new friend...

(credit goes to @stephreynaart for her OC Jacob) ~~~~~~~~~~ “Hi, would you like to talk to me about dinosaurs?”

Aaron asked this question more times than he could keep track of, but that wasn’t going to stop him from asking it. It started as a dare from his big sister two years ago, but now it’s a fun hobby. When fifth grade isn’t overwhelming him, scaring him with mountains of homework and horror stories about how hard middle school is going to be, and when he’s run out of YouTube videos to catch up on, he is on the hunt for fellow giant-lizard-lovers like a hungry Ceratosaurus.

“No, okay bye.” But it did get a little tiring to always cross out names and phone-numbers on the phone book with red ink. Hey, a dinosaur of a way to find phone-numbers was appropriate. He read the next number, dialed it, and after a ring or two he asked, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs? No, okay thank you.”

Aaron crossed out another name and sighed, taking a break since he reached the end of a line of numbers. Maybe he should just be grateful for Abbey and accept that no one else wants to talk about the Jurassic Period. Or the Cretaceous Period. Or the Triassic Period. But then a big, old, gray-tinted ad distracted him. He grinned, thinking it would at least be fun to give them a call, and he dialed the number.

Private home phone-numbers were fun, but businesses were also fun! Poor, bored workers would gladly talk to him rather than crabby Karens, and they got paid for it! So Aaron smiled as the phone rang, and he grinned when someone picked up.

“Thanks for calling the Mystery Shack, you’re talking to Mr. Mystery himself! How may I befuddle or bewilder you?”

“Hi! How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

“Oh, dude! I’d love to, but I’m scheduled for a tour of the Oddity Museum in three minutes.” The man said, and Aaron grinned continuously, because it sounded like Mr. Mystery really wanted to talk with him about dinosaurs. “But hey! Can you hold on for one minute, I think I know a guy!”

“Yeah, sure mister!” And Aaron was greeted by the sound of a catchy jingle about buying t-shirts and mugs and snowglobes. He smiled and wiggled his feet along to the music as he looked outside at the beautiful late-fall afternoon, entertained while he waited.

~~~~~~~~~~

Soos was on the hunt. He planned out the house in his head. Abuelita was taking a nap upstairs, Melody was organizing the upcoming tour, and Stan took Jacob out for ice cream, so he might be…

The owner of the Shack grinned when he stopped at the doorway and saw the man he was looking for, sitting in Stan’s chair, reading a book.

“Uncle Ford!”

The old sailor smiled up at the young man. “Yes, wh-...”

“Do you think you could answer the phone for me? I have a tour and I think this customer’s request is right up your alley.”

“Uh… sure, but w-...”

“Thanks, you’re the best!” And Soos was gone before he could address Ford’s confusion.

Ford was a bit lost, having little to no business with business, but he had learned at this point to trust Soos, so he picked up the phone beside him and was immediately greeted with a sweet, “How would you like to talk with me about dinosaurs?”

Ford grinned and closed his book. “I would love to! All three periods are equally as fascinating to study, but the Triassic contains some of my favorite dinosaurs!”

A young voice gasped on the other line. “Mine, too! Everyone thinks the Jurassic period is so great, and it’s pretty cool, but the Triassic gave us Plateosaurus and the Brachiosaurus!”

“That’s very true! You know, it’s very interesting, maybe depictions don’t include feathers at all, which is a bit frustrating, but perhaps after the news has spread they will incorporate more feathers on merchandise and textbooks.”

“YES! That’s what I wanna do when I grow up, help draw better-accurate dinosaurs!”

~~~~~~~~~~

The phone rang on Sunday. The Shack was closed today, so Stan lazily answered it and was greeted with, “Wanna talk about dinosaurs?”

“Sixer, phone for you!”

Ford ran into the living room, elbowed his twin out of the chair, and took the phone. “Hello again, Aaron! Now, where were we? Right, so Australopithecus. … No, I don’t think… Oh! No, homo habilis was erect, Australopithecus was never fully erect.”

“Maybe he was nervous.” Stan groaned, getting to his feet.

Ford shot him a look as thankfully the young boy on the other end didn’t catch that and happily shared some more fun-facts about homo habilis.

~~~~~~~~~~

While most college students were excited for Spring Break so they could get drunk or lose their virginity, Katie was excited because her family had planned a special secret roadtrip. She was careful to keep up with her family and talk to her parents and brother frequently, but Aaron had a hobby he wasn’t talking about that his parents found out and were thrilled about. Aaron had made another friend.

Rick and Katie did some research and the tourist attraction sounded right up their alley! In the middle of the woods, tons of weird stuff, and a fun roadtrip filled with diners and attractions. They decided to surprise Aaron, and they made up a lie that they would spend Spring Break in California with Katie so she could show her family around San Francisco, when in actuality they would be traveling up the state to the Redwood Highway and see the oddity place, and maybe even allow Aaron to meet his new pen-pal. Or, um, phone-pal.

So after bombarding Katie with hugs the Mitchells threw her luggage into the car and drove off. Aaron turned to Katie and excitingly asked, “So where are we going first? Can we go fix the Golden Gate bridge by painting it gold?”

Katie laughed and ruffled his hair. “Maybe later, right now I wanna show you guys this fun store right outside of town. Here, check out the videos I made for my classes!” And she pulled out some airpods and gave one to Aaron.

“Cool!”

Rick and Linda smirked at each other as they drove north. By the time they reached a little diner in Redding, CA, it was very clear to Aaron that they weren’t in San Francisco anymore. “Come on, just tell me where we’re going!” The boy begged as he fed Monchi a fry.

“The best kind of prizes are the surprises.” Linda quoted.

“Eric, Deborahbot5000, where are we going?”

“Sorry, Aaron, we cannot give that information.” Eric said, he and the other robot sitting politely in their seats, happy to be a part of the social interaction.

“Yes, Mother will bury us if we disobey.” Deborahbot said matter-of-factly.

“What?! No I won’t, sweeties.”

“Won’t you ground us?”

The family laughed and Aaron let the topic go; if he was honest, he loved a good surprise. The big family stopped in a motel just at the California-Oregon border, and the next morning after muffins and coffee and orange juice they were on the road again, passing dozens of trees that made Rick feel at home. Katie happily recorded the trip, trusted to be the documenter for another fun roadtrip, with hopefully not as much mortal peril.

Aaron watched as they left the highway for a simple road, and they passed a big sign. The boy gasped and caught what was happening. “No WAY! Really?!”

“You know, I hear this Mystery Shack even has a Sasquatch.” Rick commented while Linda pulled out a pamphlet from the glove box.

“It says here it’s full of odd things you’ll never see anywhere else, even a dinosaur footprint…”

“Wasn’t there a rumor of there being a Bottomless Pit?” Katie asked, pointing her camera at Aaron to get his reaction.

“Thank you thank you THANK YOU!!!” Aaron cheered, hugging his Dad’s neck and kissing his Mom’s cheek.

“Hey, no worries, buddy.” Rick eased, fixing his shewed glasses. “We wanted to see this place, too!”

“Why don’t we eat a quick lunch and then we’ll take the backroad for the attraction? There’s a coupon in here for a diner made from a giant log!”

And so after being served by a pretty blonde teenager at Greasy’s, they drove through town to get to the backroad. Signs made them confident that they were going the correct way, as well as Eric and Deborahbot5000’s GPS. Then as they turned a corner, a big triangle-shaped building came into view. Aaron grinned at the giant sign with a missing letter. People were already leaving, arms full of souvenirs and one or two already wearing their new hats or t-shirts. Once Rick parked in the Free Parking Lot, Aaron spilled out of the car and ran for the shack, but he stopped.

Katie caught up to him and patted his back. “You cool, man?”

Aaron shrugged, holding his hands in front of him and his shoulders up to hide his face a bit. “I-I dunno… What if… What if he doesn’t like me?”

“Hey, I get it.” Katie admitted. “When I first met my friends I was really nervous. I had talked to them online for weeks and I was worried it wasn’t gonna be what it was all cracked up to be, but it was. Your system worked! You found another dino-lover! You earned this moment. Just take in a deep breath and be yourself, cuz you’re a pretty cool dude.”

Aaron smiled up at his big sister. “Thanks.”

Trusting Eric and Deborahbot5000 to watch Monchi and make sure he used the bathroom, the Mitchells went inside the shack. On the porch there was an ice cooler, a sign reading schedule times for tours of the Oddity Museum, a Help Wanted sign, and two rocking chairs with a game of checkers between them.

Inside the store a few customers filled up the gift shop, alongside t-shirts, snowglobes, a vending machine, a door beside ti that read Employees Only, a bookshelf full of comic on one side and old newspapers claiming alien sightings on the other, a fish tank holding a monkey-mermaid, and barrels full of spaceship keychains and dino claws. A new section called Camping Stuff caught Rick’s eye, selling backpacks, lanterns, flashlights, batteries, canteens, and compasses. Katie opened a comic called Lil’Stanley and laughed at the swears, taking a pic and sending it to her friends’ group chat. Linda looked into the barrel full of patches and grinned at all the fun designs, while Aaron stared happily at the mer-monkey.

The Employees Only door opened and closed and Rick watched as a man in a suit, fez, and eyepatch walked up to the lady at the register and kissed her cheek. The woman smiled lovingly and left while the guy who resembled a gopher checked a customer out. Rick waited until the buyer left to approach the register, leaning an arm on the counter.

“Welcome to the Mystery Shack, dude!”

“Thanks! So, this is gonna sound weird, but my son Aaron talks to a guy here about dinosaurs…”

“No way!” The owner interrupted excitedly. “Good to see you, dudes! I’m Mr. Mystery! Wow, you guys came a long way, huh?”

“Nah, only from California. My daughter is attending art school there.”

While the men chit-chatted and Linda joined them, Katie noticed a guy walking up to Aaron and looking at the mer-monkey. She smiled and tried to read the comic without being too nosy, but she kept her senses on her brother.

“Hm, quite fascinating, isn’t it?” The man in the blue hoodie said. “But I think my favorite is the fossilized footprint. Could be Nanuqsaurus hoglundi.”

“The Polar Bear Lizard?” Aaron clarified, touching his chin as he looked at the dino-print, his back to the man he was talking to. “Maybe, but they’re from Alaska. It’s possible plate tectonics did cause some fossils to be relocated here, but it could also be a Nanotyrannosaurus lancensis footprint.”

“The Dwarf Tyrant? Could very well be. Would you like to talk about dinosaurs after your tour?”

Aaron’s eyes widened as the voice was finally familiar to him. He turned and looked up to find an old man smiling up at him. He had fluffy gray hair with a white stripe running around his scalp, wrinkles by his eyes due to smiling, a cleft chin, glasses, and wore a blue hoodie with a maroon sweater underneath. His hands were behind his back and he smiled down at Aaron warmly, while the boy was jittery and overly-excited. He took in a sharp breath and had to fight every muscle to keep from leaping through the screen door.

“H-H-Hi…” He peeped. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Y-Yeah, sure! I’d love to! I’m Aaron! Er, wait, you already knew that.” And he held out a hand to shake.

His phone-pal, Ford, chuckled and got on one knee to be eye-level. “Greeting, Aaron! It’s nice to formally meet you.”

Aaron shook his hand and noticed something. He had six fingers on his right hand. A quick glance told Aaron he also had six fingers on his left hand. Aaron grinned with sparkling eyes at his new friend, while the old sailor smiled warmly at the boy that reminds him of his niece and nephew when they were young.

#GF #mvsm #mitchells vs the machines #gravity falls #ford pines #soos ramirez #aaron mitchell #katie mitchell #rick mitchell #linda mitchell #eric and deborahbot5000

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waitineedaname · 3 years

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Benrey knew about bouquets theoretically.

They were what the winners got in some sports games, and they were bought by sitcom boyfriends when they’d fucked up with their girlfriends. They were bundles of flowers that held some kind of meaning that was really beyond Benrey.

The thing was, he never saw one in person until months after they’d all made it out of Black Mesa. They were all at the Boomer household, throwing them an anniversary party. No one was quite sure if it was their one year anniversary or fiftieth anniversary -- neither of them would give anyone a clear answer -- but Bubby had presented his husband with an enormous bouquet of flowers, trying and failing to appear like anything but a sappy fool.

Benrey was fascinated by it.

Xen didn’t have flowers. There were plant-adjacent things, sure, but most of them tried to stab passersby or emitted poisonous gasses. Benrey was sitting on a barstool next to the bouquet in its vase on the countertop, and he had yet to be stabbed by the dethorned roses, and the sprigs of lavender didn’t emit anything except a soothing scent that reminded him of the hand lotion Gordon wouldn’t let him eat. He gently ran his fingers over the layers of carnation petals while Coomer spoke beside him.

“-language of flowers was introduced to England in the early 18th century by Mary Wortley, Lady Montague, whose husband was Ambassador to Turkey. By the Victorian era, almost every-”

“Flowers have a language?” Benrey said, looking up and zoning back into the Wikipedia infodump.

“Yes!” Dr. Coomer informed him brightly. “Floriography (language of flowers) is a means of cryptological communication through the use or arrangement of flowers. Meaning has been attributed to flowers for thousands of years, and some form of floriography has been practiced in traditional cultures throughout Europe, Asia, and Africa. In Western culture, William Shakespeare ascribed emblematic meanings to flowers, especially in Hamlet, Prince of Denmark. Similarly, in a scene in his Henry VI, Part 1, English noblemen pick either red or white roses to symbolize their allegiance to the Houses-”

“So different colors have different meanings? Like, uh. Like Sweet Voice?”

“Yeah!” Tommy answered him this time, Dr. Coomer too busy telling the rest of them about Victorian flower meanings. “And- And each kind of flower has a different meaning too. It’s like a whole language!”

Benrey stared at the bundle of flowers in front of him. He sang out a Sweet Voice note the exact shade of one of the scabiosas and smiled.

He didn’t tell anyone his plan when he started. Something told him that would ruin it somehow. It felt more meaningful to have it be a surprise. He did his research in private. Wikipedia may be gone, but there were still plenty of websites eager to inform him of all the strange meanings Victorians applied to flowers. (What the hell was “assiduous to please” supposed to mean?) He stayed up after Tommy and Gordon had gone to bed, and sang notes of Sweet Voice as softly as he could, searching for the right correlations between flowers and Sweet Voice colors.

A bouquet arrived on Bubby and Coomer’s doorstep first. Cheerful American starworts and chrysanthemums wrapped in convolvulus, accompanied by sprigs of larch and black poplar. (White like sagebud to misty golden, you’re a bold one. Morning glory, I’m glad you got through this story. Black poplar to yellow larch, I’ll follow where you charge.) Bubby was wildly confused by its appearance, but the next time he saw them, Coomer took Benrey under his arm and gave him a noogie that would’ve drilled a hole into anyone else’s skull.

Gordon and Tommy’s came next, and Benrey made sure they arrived at the same time. Gordon was the one to find them, having opened the door to two bouquets addressed to the two of them. “Uh, Tommy?” He called out over his shoulder, picking up his bouquet and examining it. Bright Peruvian heliotropes peered out from between hundred-leaved roses and pencil-leaved geraniums, all surrounded by southernwood and Irish ivy. (Purple as heliotrope, you give me hope. Geranium to rosy pink, I’ll love you forever, I think. Green as ivy and southernwood, for you, I’ll be good.) “Do you know anything about this?”

“No,” Tommy said, walking up behind him and peering over his shoulder. When Gordon stepped aside for him, he scooped up his bouquet too. His was entirely made of flowers, a bright splash of color: the warm colors of the red periwinkles and scarlet lychnis offset by the American cowslips and traveller’s joys. (Scarlet, with you, my worries I forget. Purple like cowslip, I think you’re smart as a whip. White, you make my life bright.) “Benrey, do you- did you do this?”

“Nah, man.” Benrey shrugged, hands in his pockets. “Y’all must have, uh. Some kinda secret admirer, or something.”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment, and Benrey could swear he saw the wheels turning in Tommy’s head, but if he was going to say anything, he was distracted by Gordon ushering them into the kitchen to find vases.

He was hunched over his laptop that night again, trying to figure out if he could feasibly make a tiny arrangement of sorrel, bearded crepis, and juniper to put on Joshua’s bedside table (Green to juniper blue, I’ll protect you. Yellow, I’m proud of this tiny fellow) without Gordon accusing him for bringing weeds in the house, when a voice broke the relative silence of the living room.

“Ben?” Gordon said groggily. Benrey jumped in his seat and sang out a string of surprised teal. “You’ve been coming to bed late like every night this week, what’s up.”

“Uh, nothing. Just… browsing. Making deals on… eBay.” Benrey bluffed. Gordon squinted at him, clearly not believing the lie, then glanced at the laptop screen.

“Are those flowers?”

“...What are flowers.”

Gordon snorted and draped himself over the back of the couch. “I fucking knew it. You’re not sneaky, dude.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. What are flowers.”

Gordon flicked the side of his head. “Why were you keeping the bouquet thing a secret?”

“I dunno.” Benrey looked away, embarrassed. “Thought it’d be a fun surprise.”

Gordon chuckled and leaned in to kiss his cheek. “I never expected you to be the sentimental type.”

“Didja like them, though?” Benrey looked up, hopeful.

“Obviously. I put them on the kitchen table, they’re beautiful.” Gordon straightened up and reached for Benrey’s hands. “Now c’mon, Gordon want cuddles.”

“Gordon want cuddles? Cuddles from Benrey?” Benrey teased, taking Gordon’s hands and standing. “What about Tommy?”

“Tommy also want cuddles. He’s the one who told me to go get you.” Gordon said, pulling him up the stairs to their room. “Also, he figured out the flower meanings. Why the hell is there a plant for bantering?”

“The Victorias knew banter is important to any relationship, man. It’s like you don’t even understand enemies-to-lovers, smh.”

“Stop saying abbreviations out loud.” Gordon laughed, shoving him into bed, where Tommy sleepily grabbed him.

The following afternoon, Benrey found a vase of roses addressed to him, alongside several seed packets.

#hlvrai #frenreylatta #benrey #I'm not gonna tag the others bc they're barely in it but they're all there #my writing #okay to reblog #I wrote this in a rush today because the idea would not leave me alone!!!!!#shoutout to people who regularly come up with sweet voice rhymes bc that was HARD #most of these are a stretch but I wanted to make them work with the flowers #the flower meanings come from a flower language book I have and the meanings are as follows:#american starworts: cheerfulness in old age #chrysanthemum: cheerfulness under adversity #convolvulus: bonds #larch: boldness #black poplar: courage #peruvian heliotropes: devotion #hundred-leaved roses: dignity of mind #pencil-leaved geraniums: genius #southernwood: banter #irish ivy: clinging affection #red periwinkles: early friendship #scarlet lychnis: sunbeaming eyes #american cowslip: divine beauty #traveller's joy: safety #sorrel: parental affection #bearded crepis: protection #juniper: protection #I did not proofread this whatsoever hope y'all like it

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aricazorel · 3 years

Text

OC Questionnaire

I was tagged by @enasallavellan Thank You! This was really fun!

Answering for my Dragon Age: Inquisition OC from my ongoing fanfic series on AO3.

(This got a little long so more below the cut)

THE BASICS:

Character’s name:

Anyssa McBride

Role in story:

Inquisition Historian from Earth (MGIT story; Anchor series on AO3)

Physical description:

5ft 6in, wavy honey blonde hair that currently reaches midway down her back (on Earth it was roughly shoulder length, ice blue eyes

Age:

She is 26 when she arrives in Thedas and currently is 29 in my story. (She will be 30 shortly after the events set in Trespasser)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type:

I took two different tests when I created Anyssa and both labeled her as ‘ENFJ’—the giver or mentor. (I would argue that while she tested as an extrovert she does appreciate introvertedness and the current situation dictates which she chooses to be)

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

Being used and taken for granted

Inner motivation:

To help others and support them, hoping to see them happy

Kryptonite:

Having her self-doubts realized

What is their misbelief about the world?

Anyssa believes that everyone wants help and they just do not know how to ask for it. Unfortunately she has found out that some people just don’t want help no matter how sincere you are.

Lesson they need to learn:

She needs to learn to trust herself. Those around her know of her past on Earth and have made efforts to help her learn that. But no matter what, she still struggles with it, sometimes to the point of questioning whether she deserves the life she now has.

What is the best thing in their life?

A group of people who love and care for her. In other words, Friends

What is the worst thing in their life?

A history on Earth of those that were supposed to care for her, using her instead…and abuse. After her parents died in a car crash during her junior in high school, she went to live with her aunt and uncle who proceeded to steal the money her parents had left her for college. Later she entered into a relationship with a seemingly charming man named Bryan who turned out to be emotionally and physically abusive towards her. After two years she worked up the courage to attempt to leave. After multiple tries, she finally succeeded only to end up in Thedas.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Taking advantage of others, being cruel/mean to others, judging other without taking into consideration what they have been through

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Writing stories based on those around her, sharing her knowledge with people who appreciate it, learning about the cultures and people around her, horseback riding, rock climbing, exploring the tunnels under Skyhold

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

The people she had come to know as friends in Thedas. They have become her ‘found’ family—something she thought to never have again. The last person to make her feel that way is Cullen. He always knows the right thing to say or the right thing to do to let her know she is loved.

Top three things they value most in life?

Acceptance by others, support of others, friendship

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

No personal items from Earth made it through the rift to Thedas with Anyssa. What she has come to cherish most is the small items her friends have given her in an effort to make she feel at home. Most notably is the Cullen’s coin she wears around her neck and a stuffed dragon named Puff he gave her before they ever began their relationship.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

For her normal duties as historian, she wears simple dresses common to Ferelden fashion as well as blouses and skirts. For more formal affaires she wears one the many dresses Vivienne had made for her that incorporates Orlesian, Fereldan, and Free Marcher styles. For when she explores the caverns below Skyhold or travels away from the keep, she prefers typical traveling clothes and pants over skirts.

Most of her clothes are shades of light blue which Cullen said matches her eyes. She also wears purple in various shades being as it is her favorite color.

What names or nicknames have they been called throughout their life?

Nyssa and Nys. Most of her friends have called her Nyssa at some point in her life. Nys is only used by Cullen. He has also been known to use the endearment “sweetling” after they began their relationship.

What is their method of manipulation?

Anyssa isn’t known for manipulating anyone out right. Most of the time, she will rephrase an argument point to make the other party believe they are making a choice freely. This is not something she employs with people she is friends with or allied with. It a trick she holds in reserve when dealing with unreasonable nobles, especially when she has been called on to aid Josephine.

However, she is not above manipulating Cullen to either ensure he does not take on too much or because she would like some private time with him. A bright smile and repeatedly saying ‘please’ usually works. The first time Cullen realized he could not say no to her was when she asked to see a real dragon. In the end, he gifted her a stuffed dragon she named Puff and then took her to Crestwood to see the dragon there (from a safe distance of course.)

Describe their daily routine.

Anyssa’s routine various from day to day depending on the work load and what other duties she’s been tasked with. Normally, she holds any meetings in the morning and she makes time to watch the sparring ring from the battlements (especially if Cullen is participating). After that she may conduct any research she can on historical items the Inquisition has acquired and writes any correspondence to allies that might have knowledge she does not. She frequently checks in with Dagna in the Undercroft and reports the archanist’s progress to those interested. (Most people tend to shy away from Dagna but Anyssa finds her fascinating and funny.) She often finds Cullen for lunch and reminds him to eat. Her afternoons might involve cataloging artfifacts and tomes recovered in the hopes of returning them to their proper owners. If time allows, she can be found exploring and mapping the caverns and tunnels below Skyhold much to Cullen’s dismay. Throughout her day though, Anyssa has learned to work in time for her friends as well as for herself (though it has been a struggle in learning to do so)

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

There a several different answers to this. One is Sera. Both Anyssa and the Red Jenny enjoy pranks. Frequently Anyssa may provide the idea or inspiration while Sera carries out the actual pranks itself.

Horseback riding alone or with Cullen.

Playing Wicked Grace with Varric and/or Bull, Blackwall, and the Chargers. (Drinking and storytelling maybe involved.)

Reading a book with Cullen.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Overall, Anyssa is exceedingly happy with her life in Thedas. It is something she never thought to have again after her parents death and the abusive relationship with her ex-boyfriend. She had friends, a family, a career, someone to love her (whom she loves with all her heart), and a new purpose in life. If there was one thing that she would be dissatisfied with, it would be the knowledge that despite all the good the Inquisition did there will still be people who still cling to the old ways. In other words, she wishes that everyone could find the acceptance and support she has found but knows that the old ways are easier for some to hold onto instead of embracing change.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Finally realizing that she did nothing wrong and it was not her fault that anyone left her or treated her poorly. Those were decisions made by others and she is not responsible for that. Cullen has aided her greatly in making progress with this but it is a struggle she will always have. But then again she has found a support network and love, so in the end she is already happy/content.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

This is something Anyssa initially struggled with. Cullen was the first to admit he loved her and it took seven months before she could say it back. After that, they talked circles around making concrete plans about their future. Finally, they decided to just make the plans as they went (making a list of things they wanted.) When Cullen decided to start a Templar sanctuary after retirement, that solidified things. Now all that remains to be done is see the Inquisition through to the end and then begin their future.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Her past relationship colored how she reacted to Cullen’s affections and made her question whether she could trust his words. (she learned to trust his actions first and then his words)

Haven and Skyhold were the places she first felt welcomed in Thedas, like she had a real home again.

She questioned whether she could be lead historian in a world she knew nothing of, questioning even the skills she had learned on Earth.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

Anyssa has decided to focus on what she can do in the present and prepare for the future she wants. She has begun making plans for how to transfer her skills to a slightly different career path aft her the conclusion of the Inquisition and has told Cullen she will support his dream of a Templar sanctuary while pursuing her own path. To ensure that happens, she will more than likely rely on Cullen for reminders to believe in herself and trust that she knows what she is doing. In the end, it all comes down to trust for Anyssa and her Commander is the one she trusts the most.

Tagging @commanderadorkable, @shadoedseptmber, @raflesia65, @noire-pandora and anyone else who would like to play! No pressure, just fun!

#oc questions #dragon age #anyssa mcbride #anchor

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amostimprobabledream · 3 years

Text

And He Walks With Flames (Dabi x Reader) - Part One

They say humans, in a strange, ironic twist of fate, owe their magic to demons. A thousand years ago, they walked the earth, wreaking destruction and chaos wherever they tread. Humans were no more than meat for the slaughter, or glorified playthings for their amusement. The first generation of humans to fight back against their monstrous oppressors did so by a peculiar, ancient magic. A power that could repel demons and bring hope to all humanity. A terrible war raged for the fate of the world and the humans managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. The demons were banished to their land of origin, sealed away in defeat. But seals don't last forever. While historians argue on how literal these legends may be, there is no denying that ancient creature have begun to stir, appearing in our world again with growing frequency. And soon there might- The last paragraph was torn away. "Oh, for god's sake," you tsk. Sunlight pours through the large, high window of your lecture room, dust motes dancing in the golden rays. Though you were engrossed in your book, once you look up, the spell is broken, and the clear sky outside once again has your eyes wandering to it. It seems that you are not the only one getting distracted, either - even the professor keeps tapering off at the promise of an afternoon outside in the gorgeous spring weather. "Well," the professor says, shuffling the papers in front of her. "That's all for today. Please revise over the material and we'll discuss it in further detail next time. You are all free to go." You're only too happy to comply, putting your things away and scrambling to your feet. Everyone else is hurrying to get outside, pouring down the stairs to the doors, chattering to one another as they go. Normally you love going to lectures, but it's just too nice outside to be cooped up indoors. You push open the doors and step outside, a muted sigh of pleasure leaving your mouth. Your university, the Royal Academy of Magic, has the reputation for being tough, but so far, you've been enjoying the work. Learning about the different faces of magic, its uses, and the history of it, it's all so very fascinating to you. You've been able to use magic since you were young, but it's studying it here that will really help you unlock your true potential, and hopefully give you a concrete idea of what to aim for with your career. So far there are so many options a magic-user might do that it's been a little overwhelming trying to decide. As you cross the lawns, grass crunching beneath your feet, you decide to swing by your dorm first to drop off your books - they may contain a lot of knowledge, but damn if they're not heavy - your mother pointed out that you've developed something of a slouch since you started studying here. "I'm back!" you call as you push open the door of your dormitory. "Huh?" Kendou looks up from her bed, where she has a couple of books sprawled out next to her head, notes scribbled in the margins of her notebook as she looks over her textbook. Her red hair spills down her shoulder, coming loose from its signature ponytail. "You're back early!" "Yeah, they let us out sooner than I expected," you reply with a shrug and a small laugh, dropping your bag on your own bed and stretching, wincing as a kink in your shoulder pops. "Oh, well, that's good timing, someone came by earlier with a message for you," Kendou says, pushing herself up into a sitting position, apparently deciding your arrival is a good a reason as any to take a break from studying. "Your mother wants you to go down to the Imperial Research Centre to get your father." "Did she come by here?" you ask in surprise. Normally your mother arranges to meet you after lectures or seminars if she wants to see you during the week, and she's a rather busy woman besides. "No, she left a message at the front desk and someone passed it along," Kendou shrugs. "But she also said you guys are doing something tonight, right?" "Oh, yes, I'd forgotten all about that!" you say, feeling silly that it could

possibly have slipped your mind - you love it when you get to go out for a meal with your parents and often it means one of them has some exciting news to share. "Thanks, Kendou, I'll head over there now." She grins and gives a little wave. “No problem!” You suppose it's fortunate that the Imperial Research Centre is only a short walk from the campus and that you're very familiar with the place, since your father's been working there for so long. Anyway, it's a pleasant walk, the way there is lined with rows of trees that are only a week or two away from growing from dark to light pink and shedding their blossoms. When the street is in full bloom, it's like there's been a wedding. You even find yourself humming as you walk, breathing in the subtle smell of flowers on the breeze, wondering to yourself if the blossom trees were planted before or after the buildings were founded, but either way, whoever was responsible for them made a good call. The Imperial Research Centre is a peculiar building, made of blue stone and with a roof that boasts four conical points, one in each corner, making it resemble a castle from bygone days just plopped in the middle of the city. There's an aura of mystery to it, too, hinting at the all-important, life-changing work that’s always going on inside. If ever cutting-edge technology is released to the public, odds were that the Centre had a hand in making it. The building is cooler on the inside than it is outdoors, powered by a system designed to spread cool or warm air throughout the entire building, depending on the system. You approach the front desk, wishing that you'd thought to bring a jacket, because it’s always cold in here during the warm seasons, and the receptionist glances up on you with a slightly dismissive expression on her face. It's probably because she thinks you're an overeager student or some hapless intern, it's very rare a researcher your age would be able to work here. "May I help you?" the receptionist asks in a cool, professional tone. "Yes, I'm here to see my father," you reply. "He's one of the vice executives here." You give his surname, and the woman pauses. Is that a trace of nervousness you can see? "He's downstairs in Containment Room 1A," she says, checking a sheet of paper on the desk, which is littered with various papers, random pieces of stationary and one of those magitech intercom systems that they use. They have something similar at the Academy too, though of course, the Centre get the most high-tech version of everything. "All right, thanks," you say, turning to head for the elevator. "Wait!" the woman cries out and you glance back, confused. "I'm sorry, but you can't just walk through here, especially to the lower levels! You don't have the clearance and it can be dangerous." You scoff in disbelief. You have visited your father here before, many times, and this has never been a problem for you before. You always just tell them who you are and then get a visitor's pass. You even know some of the codes to the doors, thanks to waiting around for your father to finish work so often. "Well, please can you have someone go fetch him for me?" you ask, going to reluctantly perching on one of the chairs in the waiting area. "Can't it wait?" the receptionist asks impatiently, and maybe it can, but her attitude is starting to piss you off, so you shoot her a frosty smile you've perfected after watching your mother pull a similar face at people who don't meet her standards. "No, it can't." The woman sighs but she dutifully presses a button on the intercom system and speaks quietly into it for a moment or two, while you idly pick at a loose thread on the chair you're sitting on. She then glances back at you, eyebrows raised. "A messenger has been sent down to speak to him. Hopefully he should be upstairs shortly." "Thank you so much." you reply sweetly, the last words with heavy emphasis. After that, the two of you sit in a mutually frosty silence, with the woman sorting through paperwork on her desk and occasionally

directing people who approach her desk to the correct floor (which seems redundant to you - why can't people just read the clearly printed sign on the wall next to her desk ?), while you flick through some glossy magazines without actually taking in a single word. But you're not leaving until you've spoken to your father. Minutes tick by and you start drumming your heel lightly on the floor, leg jiggling with impatience. You wonder if the woman just lied about sending a messenger down to the Containment Room in an effort to pacify you, in the hopes you'll just get bored and leave. You grit your jaw at the thought, ignoring how cold you're getting, sitting here doing nothing. After maybe ten minutes, a man in a lab coat approaches the front desk, leaning over to speak to the woman. "Kino, could you come with me a moment? Hannah can start her shift." "Oh, I'll be right there!" Kino says, flustered, getting out from behind the desk and following the man as he walks briskly down the corridor, without a backwards glance at you. No doubt her replacement will be along any moment - perhaps she's running late? But you don't plan on sticking around. As soon as the receptionist rounds the corner, out of sight, you spring up and walk briskly across the room to the elevators, stabbing the button and stepping through the doors. You don't bother to fight the smile that spreads across your face as the doors slide shut. ~ "Father?" There's always something slightly creepy about the lower floors. The orbs lining the walls that are designed to keep the machinery running in case of a power shortage cast an eerie glow in the corridors, washing everything with a pale blue light that makes it seem far colder than it actually is. It reminds you a bit of walking through a tunnel of ice. Your boots click on the stone floor as you follow the lights to Containment Room A1. Finally, you reach the double doors leading inside, flanked by two windows each side. You can see your father inside, his back to you, so you rap on the windows. Nothing. You try again with more force, hurting your knuckles, but he still doesn't turn around. Perhaps it's soundproofed, so whatever's out here can't disturb whatever's going on in there? You glance at the keypad next to the doors, but you've never been to this particular room before so the code for the doors on the upper level is unlikely to be the same one for down here. Then you see movement, shadows beneath the crack between door and floor, and the doors slide open with a mechanical swish and two scientists in lab coats come out, comparing notes and murmuring together excitedly. You slip inside before they can slam shut again, unwilling to stand outside in the chilly corridor for any longer than necessary. "Father!" you call out as you enter. But then you stop dead in your tracks. Ahead of you, trapped behind some kind of containment field...is a monster. "What-?!" you hear your father say in surprise at his daughter suddenly marching through the doors. "What are you doing in here?!" But you don't answer. You can't look away from what's in front of you, even if you wanted to. You know without being told that this is a demon, but it's certainly not what they looked like in any of your history books. A tall, humanoid being that is undoubtedly male and you can tell from where you’re standing that he’s tall. The demon's huge, black wings arch out from behind him, reminding you of a bat. Two horns jut out from a crown of spiky black hair, but aside from that, you're surprised by how… human he looks. Your cheeks warm up as you notice he is shirtless, peculiar burn marks covering over half of his body and seemingly crudely stitched together like a patchwork doll. Despite that, he's impressively sculpted, sinewy muscles on full display and you know that demons were said to be uncommonly strong. Your eyes drift further down, and you spot a whiplike tail wrapped around one leg, topped with a pointed barb at the end, like a club in a game of cards. His arms are in restraints and so are his

ankles, yet he doesn't seem stressed in any way, leaning against the back wall of his holding cell as though he's waiting for something. "What...is this?" you breathe out, finally turning to your father. "This is our latest research subject," your father replies beside you, also staring at the demon, though his expression is surprisingly somber, considering just how amazing it is that they have been able to capture and contain a demon. You've never seen a live demon before, and something tells you that the one before you certainly isn't any garden variety one. "Director Fuji is very excited about this. It's not every day you see a demon this high ranking." Slowly, the demon stirs, raising his head a little. You're perfectly safe outside the containment field, as well was the multiple other safety measures both inside the cell and out of it, yet the sensation of being watched makes your flesh break out in goosebumps. From beneath spiky fronds of hair, the demon's eyes - so blue they almost don't look real - stare right at you, his gaze alone rooting you to the spot, laying all your defenses bare and leaving you feeling bizarrely naked before that look. Watching you without once blinking or breaking his gaze, his lips part in a sneer to reveal two rows of teeth, the fangs sharp and white as an icicle. You find yourself holding your breath as your father speaks again. "Sweetheart, meet Dabi."

#Dabi #My Hero Academia #Dabi x Reader #my hero academia #Touya Todoroki #Boku No Hero Academia #BHNA #Fanfiction #Reader-Insert #F!Reader #Demon AU #Supernatural AU #Writing

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mundanewayv · 4 years

Text

time after time. / hendery w.

A young astro-physists accepts a challenge from his crush.

“I challenge you to build one.”

“A time machine?”

“Yeah. And if I’m in there, you get to take me on a date.”

“Don’t go back on your words then!”

fluff-angst - 3k

Some boys wanted to play football their entire lives while some wanted to run for office, but Hendery had bigger plans. He wanted to fly to the solar system. He wanted to have dinner in a place vaguely known to man with no gravity holding him back rather than tight tuxedos and fancy ballrooms. He didn’t want to settle for going on holidays with limited paid work leaves and annual holidays when he could orbit and sightsee the planets and all the celestial phenomena of the universe and float among the stars in his quiet sanctuary a hundred kilometers from Earth.

Undoubtedly one of the smartest kids on campus, Hendery and his group of fellow astro-physicists were isolated from the hustle and bustle of university. Sitting in their tutorial lab, they’re often huddled around some sort of blueprint while the outside world continues on with their own lives. Always brainstorming over different theories and calculating numbers that can be barely articulated by others outside of the faculty.

“Yangyang, I think there’s something wrong with the calculation for the negative temperature coefficient. It’s impossible for the reactivity of the nuclear reactor to increase as temperature increases, can you check the derivative again?” Xiaojun points out and traces the equation with his chalk as he squints at the calculation on the blackboard, struggling to find the error with the math.

“And for god’s sake, work on that penmanship please. I can’t even tell apart ‘3’ and ‘8’ when you write them this way.” Xiaojun complains once more as he directs his attention to Yangyang who was sitting on the lab counter sipping on his fifth can of cola for the morning and third box of pizza.

Hendery and Kun chuckled by the side as they sat on the side working on their own sets of calculations whilst listening to Xiaojun’s rant.

“Kun, I’m having problems solving these differential equations and I’ve been working on them for days and I’m having an absolute mental block, do you think it’s time to call for help?”

“Hendery, that’s quite unlike you because you usually solve them with no problem and it doesn’t help that this assignment is due in two days and Professor is still frolicking in the Bahamas while we’re stuck here.” Kun picks the stack of papers on Hendery’s table as he examines the messy cancellations and occasional tear stains and stray pen marks, numbers and alphabets also floating in circles in his head.

“Yeah, we definitely need help for this one.” Kun rubs his temples as he concludes that the damn equations on the paper were unsolvable even after showing them to Ten.

“Maybe you can ask Y/N? She’s pretty good isn’t she? Right, Sicheng?” Lucas suggests, tossing the football in his hands in Sicheng’s direction.

“Who’s that?” all of them turned to look at Lucas.

“Y’know, the top student in the Applied Math Faculty. She went to the same advanced class as me and Sicheng in high school, maybe she can help solve your problem, Hendery.”

“I can bring her over if you want?” Sicheng taps on his phone looking for your number.

You walked into a room filled with these boys in which Sicheng had briefly introduced you to as he dragged you into their lab on short notice. Recognising only Lucas amongst the other foreign faces, you threw him a small wave. They handed you the questions and you took a quick look at it, dissecting it to bits before grabbing the chalk to solve it on the blackboard. With every line and number in the question, you felt the chalk slowly disintegrating in your hands as seven pairs of eyes burning holes in your back as you solved the question whose solution felt like it would take an infinite amount of years to write. But solved you did. White chalk covered your hands as you took a deep sigh of relief after completing the question. The boys stared in awe as they read the solution in fascination.

“It’s the Euler’s method, boys! I know it’s unconventional to use something from the ice age but it works best here!”

“How about this Y/N? Can you try this too?” Xiaojun led you to the other blackboard where he and Yangyang were working on.

You stared at the numerous equations on the board and though you were in a math major, all this math was making you dizzy too.

“I think you should check the numbers, it’s probably inverted or something since it is so long.” you chuckled.

“Always the best, Y/N.” Lucas comes over to give you a shoulder massage.

“Hi, my name is Hendery! Your math is outstanding by the way. I’m so impressed.” Hendery sticks out his hand to you.

“Well, hi there, Hendery!” you wiped the chalk on your skirt to clean your hands,

“Nice to meet you too and thank you. I’m flattered.” you waved his compliment off shyly.

From that moment on, you were well adopted into the team and before you knew it, you were spending hours and hours studying with the boys. Sometimes, the eight of you would skip frat parties to finish your research and assignments and head out to the local diner for some ice cream afterwards or sometimes drive out to the beach and all of you would just sit by the sea, watching the star-filled darkness while tracing the constellations in the sky, eventually falling asleep till right before sun rise.

To most of the boys, you were a close friend in their crew but to Hendery, you were something more. The more you impressed him with your intelligence, your humility and spontaneity, the harder he fell for you. He loved watching you as you excitedly trace the different stars in the sky and how you always wished you could visit the solar system one day, and hold one of the stars between your two hands. Hendery has never felt so compelled to know someone deeper until he met you as if the both of you, who are so similar yet a little different, were meant to meet as written in the stars.

“Y/N,” Hendery calls out as silence overcomes the crew as the other six boys retreat to their slumber.

“Yeah?”

“Do you see that ‘W’ in the sky? Do you know that that constellation has a story?”

“Tell me about it, Hendery.” you propped your body on your sides, turning to Hendery who was still looking up in the sky.

“It’s the story of King Cepheus and Queen Cassiopeia. Despite how bloated the Queen’s ego was, the King loved her so much that he begged to be exiled with her. Crazy, isn’t it?” he chuckles quietly.

“Well, Hendery. Love works in a funny way. He probably thought of all the time he would have to be separated from the woman he loved so much and the tiny little disputes they had wouldn’t even measure up to the infinite amount of love he had for her deep down.” you replied to him.

“I meant to tell you something, Y/N. Well, since the guys are sleeping like logs, I might as well say it right now. I like you. Like, a lot.”

“I get that a lot, Hendery. But I need a little more assurance than that.” though you could feel a blush creeping over your cheeks, your heart ached a little. It was the little voice that kept reminding you that ‘I love you’ were just empty words without action and assurance. Every confession was just a small reminder of that hollow space in your heart that carved itself whenever your father said those three words to your mother but decided to walk out of both your lives at the end of the day.

“What kind of assurance do you need Y/N?” Hendery sits up with his legs crossed and facing you as the moonlight basks on your skins.

“I challenge you to build a time machine.”

“A time machine?”

“Yeah. And if I’m in there in the next 20 years, you get to take me on a date.”

“Don’t go back on your words then!”

The idea of a time machine was just like a page out of a science-fiction book. No one has ever proven the theory behind the science of time travel and nor has anyone ever built one. Hendery reaches for probably the tenth book on the mysteries of the universe, which he had spent the entire afternoon reading and studying in the library.

“A wormhole?” Hendery stares at the article heading questionably, before reading on.

“A wormhole: a time-travelling portal created by energy fluctuations in positive and negative directions, each creating a curved space that opposes each other. When a connection is established, a wormhole is formed.”

“However, for a human to walk through the wormhole to travel in time, a supermassive black hole and negative energy is required to make a transversable wormhole.”

“One will then travel in the speed of light, known as time dilation. With the Laws of Special Relativity, a year away from Earth could be forty years into the future with this wormhole.”

Hendery takes a deep sigh, wondering if it's truly possible to build that time machine. He sat in his chair, swirling around as he chewed on his pencil.

“Well, if particles can pass through walls in Quantum Physics, man can surely walk through time.”

He worked day and night, analysing and experimenting different ways of creating that opposing energy to form a time warp. You came by occasionally to drop him some pizza or sandwiches, sometimes even blankets to cover him when he falls asleep in the lab while working. Sometimes, you would just sit by his side silently, both heads laying on the lab table. He always looked so happy in his sleep, his muscles eased and lips twitching into a smile once in a while. What were his dreams? Were you in them or were you just someone that will pass him by? Deep down you wished you didn’t propose the challenge to him and just let him take you out on that date, but the fear of not being there in his life or him in your life was probably enough to break you to pieces.

Finally, on one autumn afternoon, Hendery instructed the boys to stay out of the lab for a day so he could invite you over to watch him walk through the time machine.

“So Y/N, the time machine is done and all that’s left is to see if you’re in there and I can take you on a date afterwards right?”

“Yup.” you nodded, taking his hand in yours, holding them tightly.

“Promise to wait for me.” He asked as the both of you stood steps away from the machine.

“I promise.” you assured him, taking this opportunity to hold him in your arms.

“I’ll see you later, alligator! Plan on a restaurant, I’ll take you anywhere you want after this.” he waves, walking into the time machine and with a flash of light he disappears into the wormhole. Silence engulfed the room when you realised you were the only one left in the lab.

Hendery travels through the wormhole, watching moments of his life flash in front of his eyes: graduating university and going on a vacation with the boys and you in the Bahamas, buying his first car, entering graduate school and getting his first job at the Space Research Centre where he worked hard till he retired. He even sees his final days as he chased the Northern Lights in the cold night of Iceland. But, you weren’t there. He may have achieved all he ever wanted but you weren’t there, and everything else just became pointless to him. He wanted to run back to you and just tell a white lie for once, as long as he could keep you by his side, even if it wasn’t forever.

You returned back to the lab, it hasn’t changed much since you left, almost twenty years ago. You took a seat on the chair you sat when you waited for Hendery to return. He told you he would be back soon, but day by day, you returned to the lab but you were still alone and Hendery was still in the machine. The boys waited with you as they awaited the return of their friend. Nobody knew how long it would take for Hendery to return except for himself. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months and months turned to years. Now you are forty-five, your youth long gone and age slowly diminishing the glow your face once had, had two kids of your own and a businessman husband that was always too busy for the family. You wondered, would anything have been different if you knew the answer? You looked around the lab, reminiscing the days the crew and you spent, the best time of all your lives.

“Y/N!” you turned around to the deep voice that called out to you.

Sadness slowly disappears as you were hugged by the six boys that filled your university life. All six of them looked as dashing as ever and glad to say that their cheerful positivity never left them at all. They turned to look at the time machine.

“He’s still in there isn’t he?” Lucas asked. It was always sad because Hendery was just like a crucial puzzle piece that was never found. The boys missed him as much as you did. All of you sat down and chatted and ordered pizza just like the old days. Ending the night, all of you slowly packed your stuff and got ready to leave the lab and return back to your own lives, hoping that the next time all of you reunite, the glitch in the time machine would have disappeared and Hendery would be back with all of you.

Just as all of you slowly walked to the entrance of the lab, a ray of light shines throughout the room, a thunderous noise sends vibrations throughout the room, turning around to see the antique time machine coming back to life. You swore you could hear the thumps of all your hearts racing clearly. A figure slowly forms among the bright light; slim, cladded in a checkered vest and coffee-colored pants and, hair pushed back with too much gel, just like Hendery’s. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you take slow steps forward, not wanting to get any of your hopes up. But there right in front of you, stood the man you wished had come back to you twenty years ago, Hendery Wong. Tears flowed uncontrollably as you couldn’t stomach the shock of finally seeing him after all this while. He still looked the same as he did when he hugged you for the last time. Time hasn’t caught up with him at all but it wasn’t the same for you and the rest.

“Y/N? Is that you?” Hendery’s fingertips slowly traced the tears that were rolling off your cheeks.

“Guys? Are you guys really here?” Hendery rushed into the arms of his brothers, embracing them as if he hasn’t seen them in a lifetime.

“You guys waited! How long have I been gone?” he asks, wondering why everything seemed to have moved forward except him.

“Hendery, you’ve been stuck in there for twenty years.” you told him, slowly sobering up from your crying, holding his hand and his fingers examining the band on your ring finger.

“Oh? You got married?” he asked, hurt apparent in his voice.

“I did…” your voice trailed off at the end.

“I waited for you to come back as promised, Hendery. But you never came back and we never went for that dinner you promised me to.” you could feel the tears slowly forming again.

That was when Hendery realised that what he saw in the wormhole was right; you were never going to be in there with him even till the last breath he took.

“Hey, don’t cry, alright? I’ll take you to that dinner okay? I promise. But for now…” he looks up reluctantly to face all of you.

“I’d like to go back. I have something important to do. And maybe we’ll see each other again.” Hendery speaks softly this time.

“See you again, brother.” Kun comes up and pulls him into a hug, his tears staining the cotton of Hendery’s vest.

“I love you, Hendery.” you said those three words, after twenty years of yearning. You wished that you could go back in time and right the wrongs and work against the tricks of time.

And with one last wave, Hendery enters the time machine once more.

Hendery finds himself in the lab again, did the time machine fail?

“Hendery, you’re back!” you raced back into the lab, with snacks and chocolate milk.

“Wait, where did you go?” he asked in confusion when he saw your younger self instead of your matured self.

“I went to get snacks while waiting for you, silly. So how was it? Are you going to take me on that date?” you teased him.

“Let’s talk about it over dinner, it was a wild ride! You wouldn’t believe it!” he slings your arm in his as the both of you leave the lab in all smiles. Hendery taking this chance to fight against fate and time in this one, in hopes he can change the future he saw in that wormhole.

#hendery scenarios #hendery scenario #hendery imagines #hendery fluff #wayv scenarios #wayv scenario #wayv imagine #hendery #wayv #nct scenarios

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letterboxd · 3 years

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How I Letterboxd #13: Erika Amaral.

Film sociologist Erika Amaral on the blossoming of Brazil’s women filmmakers, the joys of queuing for the movies, the on-fire Brazilian Letterboxd community, and the sentimental attachment of her entire nation to A Dog’s Will.

“It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.” —Erika Amaral

In the wide world outside of English-language Letterboxd, Brazil occupies a particularly fervent corner. Sāo Paulo-based feminist film theorist Erika Amaral has connected with many other local film lovers through her Letterboxd profile, and for anyone with an interest in Cinema Brasileiro, her lists are an excelente place to start.

From her personal introduction to Brazilian film history, to her own attempts to fill gaps in her Latin American cinematic knowledge, Erika’s well-curated selections are a handy primer on the cinema of the fifth-largest country in the world, and its neighbors. These lists sit alongside her finely judged academic deep-dives into filmmakers such as Luis Buñuel, Glauber Rocha and Sarah Bernhardt.

Endlessly fascinated by how “the history of cinema is all intertwined”, Erika has also written on Jia Zhangke for Rosebud Club, is an Ana Carolina stan, enjoys collecting films directed by women featuring mirrors and women, and, like all of us, watched many remarkable movies during quarantine.

Suzana Amaral (left, rear) with cast and crew on the set of her film ‘A Hora da Estrela’ (Hour of the Star, 1985).

Olá, Erika. Please give our readers a brief introduction to your brilliant Introduction to Brazilian Film History list. I’m so happy to see this list getting popular! I’m a sociologist interested in film and gender studies. It’s been four years since I started studying Brazilian film history but my passion for film is much older. I tried to combine those two aspects in this list; films that are meaningful to me, historically relevant films, and historically relevant films erased from film-history books, for instance, those directed by women. The main purpose of my list is to highlight Brazilian women filmmakers’ fundamental contributions to Brazilian cinema.

I listed some absolute classics such as Hour of the Star by the late director Suzana Amaral, and other obscure gems such as The Interview, by Helena Solberg, which is a short feature released in 1966 alongside the development of Cinema Novo. Solberg’s work was hidden for decades. No-one knew about it. In Brazil, especially in the field of film studies and feminist theories, we are experiencing the blossoming of public debates, books being released, and film festivals that look specifically into films such as Solbergs’s and [those of] many other women directors, including Adélia Sampaio, the first Black female director to release a feature film in Brazil in 1984, Amor Maldito. We need these debates on Letterboxd as well, so I wrote this list in English.

As a representative of the passionate Brazilian community on Letterboxd, can you provide some insight into the site’s popularity where you live, especially for those of us who have not learned Brazilian Portuguese? I feel at home using Letterboxd. Everywhere I see Brazilian members posting reviews in both Portuguese and English. It’s a passionate community. It’s directly related to Twitter where Brazilian cinephiles are so active and productive, always sharing film memes (and even Letterboxd memes). Many content creators are using both Letterboxd and Twitter to showcase their podcasts, classes and film clubs. I once started a talk at a university for film students mentioning that my Masters research project came into life when I watched Amélia, showing my mind-blown Letterboxd review in the presentation. I follow many of those students now and it is so good to be connected. Brazilian Film Twitter and [the] Brazilian Letterboxd community are on fire!

Alexandre Rodrigues as Buscapé in ‘City of God’ (2002), directed by Fernando Meirelles and Kátia Lund.

When uninitiated cinephiles think about Brazilian cinema, City of God is most likely top of the list. It’s the only Brazilian film to be nominated for Best Director at the Academy Awards (despite co-director Kátia Lund being shut out!) and it’s the only Brazilian film in IMDb’s Top 250. After nearly 20 years, is it fair for City of God to represent Brazil? Of course, it is fair for City of God to represent Brazil! The only problem is if we think all Brazilian cinema is exclusively City of God. The film is entertaining, well-directed, has a great cast, but it has some flaws—for example, the aestheticization of violence and misery in Brazil, which scholar Ivana Bentes calls the “cosmetics of hunger”. Even so, it is a great film and it captivated Brazilian and international audiences. We shouldn’t limit any country to only one or two films.

If you enjoy City of God, check my list for Brazilian films directed by women in this period, which we call “Cinema da Retomada”—the renaissance of Brazilian cinema after the economic problems [that] hampered the film industry in the 1990s.

Selton Mello and Matheus Nachtergaele in beloved Brazilian comedy ‘O Auto da Compadecida’ (A Dog’s Will, 2000).

Several Brazilian films have stunningly high ratings on Letterboxd, giving them a place on many of our official lists. This includes A Dog’s Will, which is in the top ten of our all-time Top 250. On Letterboxd, A Dog’s Will reviews are cleanly divided into two camps: Brazilians (who absolutely love it) and everyone else (who fail to understand its popularity). What drives this home-team spirit? People truly love A Dog’s Will! It’s funny, has a fantastic rhythm, and it references many aspects of Brazilian culture, especially regarding north-eastern Brazilian culture. It was shown both as a film and as a miniseries infinite times on the largest and most popular television channel in Brazil. I can’t help mentioning that A Dog’s Will portrays Jesus Christ as a black man and Fernanda Montenegro as Brazil’s patron saint, Nossa Senhora Aparecida. It’s a brilliant moment for Matheus Nachtergaele, one of the greatest Brazilian actors ever.

Can you offer us a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’? I love the idea of a ‘Gringo’s Guide to A Dog’s Will’! You need to have good subtitles. The beauty of A Dog’s Will is that it is regional but it was made to be understandable to all of Brazil. You are going to need subtitles that [cover] the expressions, slang and proverbs—not mere translations. I would recommend watching some other films from north-eastern Brazil; Land of São Saruê, Love for Sale and Ó Paí Ó: Look at This. This can help you understand other social and cultural dimensions of Brazil beyond, for instance, City of God. A Dog’s Will is a movie that we would watch on a lazy Sunday afternoon with the family, so we have a strong sentimental attachment to it.

Leonardo Villar bears the weight of a cross in ‘The Given Word’ (1964).

Religion plays an important role in Brazilian cinema—for example, one of the few Brazilian films to win the Palme d’Or is the masterful The Given Word. Is this connection a part of what makes Brazilian cinema so potent for the local community? Religious symbolism and religious beliefs are extremely significant in Brazilian cinema. Its presence in cinema seems to address our daily challenges, rituals, history, but not always apologetically—as you can see in the despair of Zé do Burro in The Given Word. Religion does not seem to help him. There’s nowhere to run. The spiritual belief, as well as the cross itself, is a weight on his shoulders.

So you see, religion in Brazilian cinema is so potent because we can think beyond it, we can understand how people relate to their beliefs and how sometimes religion can fail a person. That’s what happens when a priest falls in love with a local girl (The Priest and the Girl), when a curse falls upon a man who turns against his people (The Turning Wind), when we teach fear and sin to young girls (Heart and Guts), when religion becomes a determining way of life that does not pay back efforts (Divine Love), when we accept the possibility of going against religious institutions (José Mojica Marin’s, AKA Coffin Joe, films).

We have all these movies fascinated by religion and how it creates meaning in our society. This is just from Christianity, because if we think of African and Indigenous heritage, we have another whole dimension of films to reflect upon, such as Noirblue and the documentary Ex-Pajé.

We have some Brazilian films in our Official Top 100 by Women Directors list, including The Second Mother, which sits in the top five with City of God. Who are some overlooked female Brazilian filmmakers that you want to celebrate and put on our map? Undoubtedly Juliana Rojas and Gabriela Amaral Almeida. They’re both on the horror scene and their work is astonishing. I strongly recommend Hard Labor and Rojas’ latest film Good Manners (if you are into werewolves). I can’t even pick one for Almeida—The Father’s Shadow and Friendly Beast are awesome. Beatriz Seigner’s The Silences—filmed in the frontier between Brazil, Colombia, and Peru—is really impactful. Glenda Nicácio’s films, co-directed with Ary Rosa, are among my favorite recent Brazilian films. Watch To the End immediately!

Eduardo Coutinho’s ‘Twenty Years Later’ (1984).

Brazilian documentarian Eduardo Coutinho has not one, not two, but three of his films in the Official Top 100 Documentaries list, including the all-time number one Twenty Years Later. Can you describe Coutinho’s significance in Brazil? Coutinho is a monument! Coutinho is an institution! Coutinho is everything. His works are of strong political importance, as you can see in Twenty Years Later. A movie he was making in 1964 was interrupted by the dictatorship installed in Brazil, and the main actor and activist, João Pedro Teixeira, was murdered, then his wife Elizabeth Teixeira had to flee and change her identity.

The documentary follows Coutinho and his crew looking for the actors from his movie from twenty years before. Later, his works developed many different tones and formats as you can see in Playing, an experimental portrayal of real women and their personal experiences side-by-side with actresses representing their real-life events as if in a play. Playing was one of the mandatory films to be analyzed for [my] Film School entrance exam, so I had to watch it a million times in 2017. His works are profound studies on Brazilian people and culture—piercing, but also delicate.

Contemporary documentaries are also doing well; Petra Costa’s latest, The Edge of Democracy, was nominated for an Oscar, and Emicida: AmarElo – It’s All for Yesterday was briefly Letterboxd’s highest-rated film late last year. How are these docs tapping into the zeitgeist? Those are both very different films. Emicida is part of a strong and structured movement against racism, against the marginalization of Black people, against limiting the access to art and culture to certain social groups, which is a common practice in the history of this country. Petra Costa’s documentary is another form of reflection on contemporary politics but in a melancholic tone since, recently in Brazil, we have been facing political storms such as the impeachment of ex-president Dilma Roussef, the imprisonment of ex-president Luiz Inácio Lula da Silva (who has recently been declared not guilty), and rising far-right politicians. Not to mention another of our losses, the still-unsolved killing of Marielle Franco, a Black and lesbian political representative. These films have helped us face these difficulties and try to gather some hope for the future.

Bárbara Colen (center) and villagers in ‘Bacurau’ (2019).

How has Brazil’s cinema industry been affected by the one-two punch of the pandemic on top of ongoing social and political issues? And, can you talk a bit about how the acclaimed Cannes-winner Bacurau shocked the nation two years ago, and in what ways the film confronted these problems? This question is challenging because there’s so much happening. At this moment, we have 428,000 deaths [from] Covid and we are still mourning the Jacarézinho favela massacre in Rio de Janeiro. We have very troubled political representatives that are not fighting Covid in an adequate way to say the least, and we have had major cut downs in the cultural sector since, in Brazil, a lot of artistic and cultural projects are developed with governmental incentives. It is hard to produce art without institutional support and it is very complicated to produce art during this tragic pandemic.

Right before this chaos, we had Bacurau. Actually, I have a pleasant anecdote about my experience with Bacurau. Everybody was talking about how it was going to premiere at a special event with the presence of its directors. We had some expectations regarding the premiere because it was going to be free of charge and it would take place at the heart of São Paulo, the Avenida Paulista, in an immense theater.

We arrived at 1pm to form a line and people were there already. I discovered through Twitter that the first boy in line was hungry so I gave him a banana. I had brought a lot of snacks. The line was part of the event, and it got so long you couldn’t believe it. It was great to see so many friends and people gathered to see a movie—and such an important movie! There weren’t enough seats for everyone but they exhibited the film in two different rooms so more people could enjoy it.

I love everything about that day and I think it helps me to have some perspective on cinema, culture, politics and what we can accomplish by working collectively—people uniting to fight dirty politicians, people joining forces to fight social menaces, generosity, empathy, fight for justice and the power of the masses.

The life of 17th-century nun Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz is explored in María Luisa Bemberg’s ‘Yo, la Peor de Todas’ (I, the Worst of All, 1990).

Would you like to highlight some films from your neighboring countries? I have been watching some fascinating films from South America. Bolivian filmmaker Jorge Sanjinés has an extensive filmography and his films were the first to portray characters speaking Aymara. I really like his Ukamau. I also love Argentine director María Luisa Bemberg’s films, such as I, the Worst of All. I’m currently studying Jayro Bustamante’s La Llorona, from Guatemala. I have no words to say how incendiary this film is. You’ll have to watch it for yourself!

Who are three Brazilian members that you recommend we all follow? Firstly, I recommend you follow my beautiful partner in crime and cinema, Pedro Britto. Secondly, a fantastic painter and avid researcher of Maya Deren and Agnès Varda, my adored friend Tainah Negreiros. Finally, I recommend you follow Gustavo Menezes, who is the author of many excellent lists [about] Brazilian cinema. He’s also the co-founder of a streaming platform called Cinelimite, which everyone should take a look at.

Related content

Silvia’s Cinema Novo list

Gabriela’s Cinema Brasileiro master list

Serge’s list of films that have won the Grande Otelo (Grande Prêmio de Cinema Brasileiro for Best Film)

Follow Erika on Letterboxd, Tumblr and in print

Follow Jack on Letterboxd

#letterboxd #how i letterboxd #erika amaral #film academic #film study #feminist film theory #feminist film #feminist theory #brazilian cinema #cinema o brasilia #Cinema Brasileiro #Brazilian film #suzana amaral

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aces-to-apples · 4 years

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20 and Jessemaul please 🙏

For this ask meme

This got really horny, but like in a weird way, and I am so sorry.

NOT SAFE FOR WHALES

CITRUS SCALE: LEMON (POSSIBLY GRAPEFRUIT, I DON'T REALLY KNOW HOW WEIRD YOU GOTTA GET FOR THAT)

Warnings: Kink negotiation but maybe not quite enough, rough sex, overstimulation, biting and bruising, i think this counts as pain play, D/s, mild(?) sub drop/aftercare, crying during sex, safe word use, asexual character having sex

Here on AO3

20. Confessions

Three months after finally returning to Dathomir, Jesse sat down across from Maul and said, "I want you to hold me down and fuck me so hard I beg you to stop."

They had been intimate since the mess that was Florrum, mostly relegated to hands and mouths, but the suddenness of the request was startling. If Maul were a lesser being, or perhaps merely if Jesse had said this earlier into their sexual relationship, he might have choked on his tea. As it was, he was sure his expression was amusingly wide-eyed to the lieutenant.

"I take it you'd like me to use the... assistive equipment you've mentioned before," he said at length. Jesse's voice had been firm, unyielding, but he carried a tension in his shoulders, hands clasped his own cup so tightly as to turn his knuckles white, and his gaze was fixed on the small eating table between them. This was something... important to him, likely related to the way he'd been prowling about the residence lately. "And should I stop, when you beg me to?"

Deep brown eyes darted up, looking caught, before jerking aside to bore holes into the wall. "No, I... If I want you to actually stop, I'll say 'blue.' That's what a safe-word is."

Maul hummed. "And if I don't want to do this?" he asked, curious.

Jesse ground his teeth. "Then we don't."

He looked as if the prospect pained him. Their minds were no longer as deeply entangled as they had been when their bond was first established, but sometimes Maul missed it. The closeness made communication so much easier.

"This is something you want," he noted, watching with fascination as the skin around Jesse's eyes tightened. "Or, it's something you need."

His ver'alor snarled and a bit of frozen gold crept into his irises. "I don't need anything from you."

Which was such a blatant lie that Maul sat back in his chair and silently observed the fuming lieutenant. As a clone and a very sexual Human man, Jesse needed quite a bit, from Maul in particular.

He needed training in the Force. He needed trusted companionship in the absence of his brothers, sisters, and siblings. He needed skin-to-skin contact like he needed food, becoming sullen and aggressive without it. He needed regular sexual release, although he had admitted that involving Maul in the proceedings was merely a heavy preference.

An incident early into their partnership had proven their needs different, and at times incompatible. With their bond stabilized and their minds no longer so entwined, those differences became stark.

Seeking the physical affection Maul had, until that specific incident, been pleased enough to provide, Jesse had stepped right up against his back and pressed their bodies together. One hand had wrapped around his waist while the other crept underneath his shirt and grasped Maul's opposite shoulder. Jesse’s breath had fanned across the back of his neck and the prickling discomfort and irritation that had plagued Maul all throughout that day had solidified.

The rumbling growl had begun deep in his chest and ripped out of his throat with all the implicit threat his instincts could muster. Jesse had gone prey-still.

Slowly, so as not to startle him, Jesse had released his waist and removed his hand from Maul's skin, then put a careful distance between them.

"Sorry, vod," he'd said after a long silence, the two of them getting their bearings. "Didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Maul had managed to force through gritted teeth that he didn't want to be touched at that time and the incident passed with some adjustment. Ever since, Jesse had brushed a questioning tendril across Maul's mind before initiating such contact. With this in mind, Maul knew that if he declined Jesse's request, that would likely be the end of it.

"Would late afternoon tomorrow be acceptable?" he finally said. "I have a meeting with Dryden Vos, which will no doubt be tedious."

Jesse's nose wrinkled at the mention of his least favorite of their figureheads, but the tightness around his eyes lessened. "Yeah, should be good."

Yes, the request was clearly something that Jesse needed quite badly.

To Maul's surprise, he entered Jesse's quarters after the meeting to find the room soaked with desperate, frustrated lust. He had clearly underestimated the severity of Jesse’s need, if he’d foregone any foreplay in favor of, in his own words, slicking himself up.

“Kriffing finally,” his ver’alor growled, tossing a scrap of clothing that he’d apparently saved for Maul’s appearance at his head. Ignoring the annoyed flick of Maul’s fingers to dislodge the fabric from his horns, he jerked his chin. “Harness is over there. Now, please come over here and fuck me.”

Rolling his eyes at the impatience, Maul stalked over to the indicated table and began to undress.

He could feel the spike of interest as he carefully folded his shirt and placed it aside. Jesse had once admitted that sexual preference in clones tended towards highly individualized species, had called Maul’s markings ‘tooka-nip.’

Maul focused on the feeling of Jesse’s arousal as it brushed against his mind, rather than the awkwardness and indignity of figuring out the aforementioned harness. He knew he was more sensitive to perceived derision than Jesse deemed ‘strictly healthy, by Kix’s standards’; if he allowed himself to become distracted by his insecurities, his already-simmering temper would lash out.

He also rolled his eyes at the red and black markings on the toy that Jesse had selected for his use. “Cute,” he muttered, fiddling with everything to make sure it was properly settled.

“Hot,” Jesse corrected from his place on the bed. “Very hot. Are you going to make me beg first or something?”

Maul sighed and made his way over to the bed. “No, I believe you requested that happen later in the proceedings.” He cast a critical eye over what he saw and could admit that the sight of Jesse splayed across silken sheets was evocative.

The lieutenant had gained weight since coming to Dathomir, his body eagerly hoarding fat and muscle at the slightest opportunity, and the way his warm brown skin stretched across both was pleasing. As was the flush of blood across various aspects of his anatomy as his fingers began twisting among the sheets, becoming more and more worked up the longer Maul did nothing to further his aims.

“Please,” he whined, panting and watching him beneath hooded eyes, his pupils blown wide. His hard-earned shields dropped a bit, letting Maul feel how desperately he wanted this, wanted him.

Swallowing a sudden rush of saliva, Maul carefully crawled between Jesse’s legs and braced himself above his ver’alor. “Is there anything else you need?” he asked, thinking of the little research he’d done that morning before Dryden Vos’ arrival.

“I—” Jesse began, swallowing thickly. “Pin my wrists, too.”

Maul hummed, unsurprised. “And we already know you like my voice,” he prompted. “Is there anything you’d like me to say?”

The blush across his cheeks really was quite beautiful, even if he was avoiding Maul’s gaze. “Nah, nothing—nothing in particular.”

“I see... Would you like me to fuck you now?”

For all his uncharacteristic shyness, the tease met its mark and Jesse leaned up to bite at Maul’s mouth with a silly little growl. Maul let him control the kiss and reveled in his groan as he guided the toy inside his body.

He spent a few moments testing how best to move, keeping a careful eye on how Jesse reacted to each thrust. While he had memories of Jesse’s memories to draw from, he had no practical experience of his own. That suddenly, with the lieutenant squirming beneath him, seemed an oversight. In fact, it was surprising that Jesse had waited this long to ask for it.

“Is this what you want?” he asked lazily, one hand tilting Jesse’s hips to see what difference it made to his enjoyment and the other braced above their heads to keep him steady. “Is this what you need?”

“Ngh,” Jesse eloquently replied. “S’good.”

“But... not quite?”

His head thrashed from side to side and a leg curled up his side, letting Maul sink deeper into his body. “Harder,” he gasped, “fuck me harder.”

Fairly confident now, Maul snapped his hips and watched avidly as Jesse’s lips parted. He did it again, and again, and Jesse groaned and reached up to drag him down for another kiss. Feeling generous, he allowed it for a moment before catching his wrists and pinning them above above his head.

Jesse broke away, seemingly unable to catch his breath, and carefully tested Maul’s grip. He tightened it into something that must be painful and felt a ripple of pleasure all his own at how the lieutenant melted beneath him.

He continued fucking him carefully, increasing the force behind each thrust only marginally, until he reached what Jesse was after.

The bed, a sturdy thing made to last, shuddered against the wall when Jesse’s moans turned to whimpers. Curious, Maul moved farther up the bed, bending Jesse nearly in half and increasing the weight on his wrists. The choked noise of pain and pleasure he got in response was gratifying, but the garbled sob of “stop” gave him pause.

Jesse often mocked his obsessive need for dominance but hurting him in such an intimate manner was not something from which Maul derived pleasure.

He leaned down and pressed his mouth to Jesse’s throat. “If you want me to stop, you say ‘blue,’” he reminded, then snapped his hips and sank his teeth into the yielding flesh. He could feel Jesse’s shout even more than he could here it.

Maul mentally grimaced and prepared for Jesse to say it, but did not stop. He worked his jaw so that he was nearly chewing on his lover, and the change in position made it difficult to truly thrust, resulting in sharp hitches of his hips that... certainly garnered a reaction. The cries turned quickly to crying, which tested his resolve nearly to its breaking point.

Jesse was strong and fierce and sure; it was a tad distressing to know that his actions were the cause of his tears, his shuddering sobs, the way he strained desperately against Maul’s hold. But this, he continued to remind himself, was what Jesse asked for.

“Please stop, please, Maul, I’ll be good, I swear, please...”

Disconcerted, Maul released one of Jesse’s hands, keeping it immobilized through the Force, and trailed his fingers down his chest to wrap around his cock. He would hopefully be content to stop after he came. Fortunately, Maul was well-versed in wringing as orgasm out of his lieutenant with his hands, and as worked up as he already was, it didn’t take long.

He slowed his thrusts and eased the bite into only the presence of his teeth as Jesse came between them, acutely aware that the overstimulation would be uncomfortable to painful. Somehow, he was unsurprised when Jesse, face covered in saltwater, made an inarticulate noise of protest.

With a deep breath, Maul resumed his previous pace, each thud of the bed against the wall suddenly making him wince.

Jesse’s pleas did not change in pitch, but content. “Please, please, fuck, oh fuck, fuck me please, Maul, fuck me, please, fuck, fuck please Kix—”

Startled, Maul’s hips stuttered, and the damage was done.

“Ah, fuck,” Jesse yelped, his voice full of something Maul couldn’t identify. “Fuck, Maul stop, blue.”

Immediately, he stilled and released his hold on the lieutenant’s wrists.

“Would you like me to—”

“Yes, please,” Jesse hiccupped, covering his face with one hand. He didn’t react when Maul pulled fully away, nor when he left the bed to remove the harness and put everything aside for cleaning later.

Unsure, Maul reached out and brushed Jesse’s mind like a question. The response was another shield-drop, which revealed a swirling morass of emotion that Maul lacked the emotional literacy to fully understand. Grief was easy enough to identify, but there was also a great deal of something that tasted like a relative of shame, and a strange dullness creeping along the edges of everything.

Maul steeled himself and ran his tongue over his teeth before turning to face him.

Jesse hadn’t moved much, his legs still brace against the bed, showing off the bruises forming along his hips, the backs of his thighs, around his wrists. The bite mark lacked any ounce of subtlety—a hair’s breadth from bleeding, it was far too high and prominent to be hidden by any clothes of theirs, and spectacular bruising would no doubt bloom around the imprints of his teeth.

Covered in marks and splattered with his own come, Jesse looked like he’d been ravaged. Maul wasn’t sure how much pride he was supposed to take in that, nor how much regret. The longer he stood apart, trying to piece together what he was meant to do, the more pronounced the minute trembling that Maul had taken as exhaustion became.

Jesse’s breath hitched visibly and he at once felt superfluous.

“Ah. Should I. Do you want me to touch you?” Maul asked, completely at a loss.

“Yes,” Jesse gasped, with that terrible, watery tone that meant he was crying again. “Yes. Please. Touch me.”

Clear instruction given, Maul strode back over and settled along his side, careful not to settle between Jesse’s legs again. Hesitating, he slid one arm underneath his shoulders, then huffed out a breath when he arms were suddenly full of quaking clone.

“Pet me,” came a falsely-imperious order, muffled by the meat of his shoulder. When Maul obliged, stroking his free hand down Jesse’s spine, the lieutenant shuddered and sniffled. “Tell me I did a good job.”

“You did very well, ver’alor,” Maul praised immediately. “Such a... good job. Well done, Jesse.”

Jesse took an unsteady breath.

“Tell me you love me.” The words reverberated between them, leaving no room for thought. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to—I’m sorry. For saying Kix’s name, too.”

Maul frowned, unsure if he wished for the openness of their unshielded bond at that moment or not. “I... don’t see why you should apologize,” he eventually said. “He’s your riduur.”

“And I’m fucking you,” Jesse spat, sounding angry. “I shouldn’t have. I asked you for this and then didn’t even say your name.”

“As I recall, you said my name many times.” He could hear Jesse swallow a whine. “Kix is important to you. I don’t protest his... presence, shall we say, during these proceedings.”

“He’s gone,” Jesse whispered.

“Lost, not dead. Out of our reach but for the moment. We’ll find him.” Still unsure what Jesse needed, Maul tightened his grip around his shoulders and continued stroking a firm hand up and down his back. “Did you get what you wanted?”

“I—”

Jesse rolled over, out of Maul’s arms, and flung an arm over his eyes. “Yes,” he muttered, sounding put out. “You were fucking me perfectly and then I karked it up—”

“I don’t see how saying Kix’s name is any different from talking about Alpha-17 while I’m pleasuring you with my mouth,” Maul said glibly.

The following silence was telling.

“That happened once,” Jesse said, sitting up to glare at him, “and you asked.”

Maul shrugged, unconcerned with such trivialities. “Will you want to do this again?” he asked and took his answer from the way Jesse immediately looked away. “Do you... want this to become a regular addition to our usual activities?”

“No, I—” His lieutenant scrubbed a hand over his face, grimacing at the discomfort of dried salt water. “I don’t need it very often, I just. Feeling cooped up, is all. Think I wanna take you up on that offer to take on some more responsibilities for the Collective.”

He said it like a challenge, like Maul wasn’t fascinated by his mind and the way he conducted business.

“That sounds very fine,” he said and bridged the gap between them to press his mouth against Jesse’s cheek. “And you? You’re well?”

Jesse blinked big brown eyes at him and smiled softly. “Yeah, vod. I’m good.”

“Good.”

He waited until his ver’alor had relaxed once more, confident that any missteps had been addressed, then pressed his lips to his ear.

“And Jesse? Since you asked. I believe I do.”

#answered asks #ask meme #fic bits #sw fic #king of the damned #by apples #jesse/maul #not safe for whales #citrus scale #lemon #arc trooper jesse #darth maul #trooper/trooper relationships #jessix #jesse17

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benedictsvestcollection · 4 years

Photo

Chapter Two: Are we written in the stars, baby, or are we written in the sand?

AO3

Warnings: Light angst, Soft Din (b/c he needs a warning for being SOFT) and bed sharing.

Chapter 1

Aurora had been on the road with Din and the child for about two weeks now. She had learned a bit more about Din in that time. That he was Chilean and spoke Spanish, (she did not know what he was saying most of the time) that he wasn’t very chatty but he was very kind when he did talk with her and that he was a badass bounty hunter and almost always got the job done. Sometimes coming back a little worse for the wear but usually nothing terribly serious.

Din had a job that was taking a few days for him to complete in Northern California. Gone during the day and in the evenings he was on his laptop or tablet doing research on the guy he was hunting to turn into the local cops. So he’d gotten them a campsite in a campground that had a lake nearby for swimming and they could cook on the grill. But Din always insisted on cooking on the grill for them.

It was mid afternoon on the third day and Aurora had taken the boy to the lake for a swim. It was a hot day and they had been cooped up in the van most of the day so far. Her new and clean phone Din had gotten her was on and nearby, in case he called and she had also left a note in case he came back early for the day. She was helping the boy chase fish in the shallow end of the lake when she looked up to hear steps. She assumed it was a hiker, but Din had told her to be careful for both her and the child’s sake, so she was always alert.

She smiled when she saw him. He smiled back from behind his baseball cap and aviator sunglasses but she could tell he was tired. “Hey.” He greeted her, unable to take his eyes off her in her short shorts and blue bikini top she wore while the boy was wearing his dinosaur swim trunks Aurora had bought for him at a Walmart one day.

“Hi. Guess you got my note.” She told him as she helped the boy onto the rocks as he scrambled to get to Din to greet him. He squealed when he was close enough and wrapped his arms around his legs in a hug.

“I did.” He nodded and winced as he bent a bit to hug him back.

“Are you okay?” She asked him as she picked up a towel and dried her top half off before slipping her loose tank top over her. “You look…” She scanned him for a moment and her eyes widened. “Jesus Din, you’re bleeding.” She mentioned to his side where she saw red seeping through his dark grey t-shirt.

“Just a surface wound.” He grunted as he took the towel from Aurora and wrapped the boy up in it before picking him up.

She shook her head at him. “You should let me take care of that.” She insisted as she slipped on her sandals and followed him back to the van. “And you shouldn’t be carrying him either.” She chided him as the boy patted Din’s face affectionately and took his sunglasses off his face and put them on his own, with a giggle.

“I’m fine Aurora.” He reassured her as he opened the side of the van and set him on the steps while he helped him change. All the while letting his wound bleed.

“Like hell you are. Get on the damn bed Din.” She ordered him softly. “I can take care of this.” She insisted as she gently took charge of the boy and changed him quickly. “Take off your shirt.” She told him while she retrieved the well stocked first aid kit she knew they had for incidents like this.

“Stubborn woman.” He muttered but did as she asked, all the while watching as she settled the boy on the ground with his drawing book.

“Yeah well, I’m the stubborn woman who’s gonna stitch you up now.” She tsked at him and carefully threaded the needle before cleaning his wound. “You gonna tell me how this happened?”

He shrugged as she cleaned the wound. “Just an asshole bail jumper. Thought he’d try and slice me open. He got one swipe in before I got him in a chokehold and cuffed him.”

“Is that all?” She asked him wryly, a smirk on her lips as she slowly began to stitch up his wound with the precision of a professional.

“Yup.” He looked down and watched her work. “How do you know how to do this?” He asked her after several moments.

“What? Get a stubborn as hell, bounty hunter to listen to me?” She teased him.

“Mujer perfecta.” He muttered, partly to himself and partly to her. “I mean this.” He nodded to her, stitching him up.

She wondered what the first sentence meant, perfect… Something but she didn’t have time to consider it with his second comment. “Oh… I was in nursing school for a while.” She told him softly. “Was about a year from graduating when my parents died and I had to quit to be able to afford to put my brother in the group home he needed to go into.” She explained, her eyes going up to his for a split second before going back to focus on closing him up. “We uh… My parents couldn’t afford both and I knew I had to give up nursing school to put him somewhere he’d be well taken care of.”

“I’m sorry.” He told her softly. “That you had to give that up.” He wondered how someone as sweet and selfless and kind as her… Ended up being constantly given the short end of life it seemed. Having to give up nursing, losing her parents and then her brother in a way… And having that asshole ex of hers.

“It’s fine. It was a while ago now. Guess I’m able to put my knowledge to some use now, taking care of you.” She teased him again.

He smirked at her. “Me and my stubborn ass?” He teased back.

She finally finished and knotted up the stitch before rooting around the kit for the gauze and tape. “Yup.” She told him and smirked back as the boy stood up and held his drawing book to his chest.

“Hey kid.” He told him fondly as he watched as he noticed he started to cry. “It’s okay.” He assured him and ruffled his hair gently. “I’m fine.” He promised the boy.

Aurora looked up from where she was working and her heart broke a bit at the sight.

Din looked to Aurora and then back to the boy. “See? Aurora helped make me better.” He showed the boy who’s brows furrowed in confusion before he peeked to see.

“Yes.” She turned to meet the boy’s gaze and smiled at him. “He’s fine.” She promised him and then stood to grab the bottle of Advil they kept in the cabinet and gave him a few. “Take these.” She instructed as she watched him for a few moments as the boy crawled into Aurora’s now vacant spot and showed him the fish drawings he did.

“Did he have fun swimming?” Din asked her after a longer silence.

“Yeah. He can’t really swim yet, but he had fun chasing the fish and splashing around. And we laid out on the rock.” She smiled at them.

“Maybe we’ll teach him to swim sometime.” He suggested casually.

“We could, yeah.” She agreed with a small smile.

“I uh… The campsite is paid up till tomorrow so we can stay here tonight.” Din told her. “I’ll take the-”

“I swear to god, if you say you’re going to sleep in the front seat I will rip out your stitches.” She warned him. “Just sleep on the damn bed Din. It won’t kill you.” She insisted.

“Can’t. That’s where you sleep.” He shook his head.

“You’re an idiot. It’s your bed.” She sighed at him. “Just sleep in the damn bed tonight. Please?”

“Where are you gonna sleep mi querida ?” He asked her, the endearment slipping out but he didn’t want to take it back either. Because he had become fond of her, not that he wanted to admit that outloud to her.

She paused, she knew he just called her some kind of a nickname but she didn’t want to ask him either. He would just deny it or change the subject. “We’ll figure it out later. Let’s make dinner for now.” She told him softly.

“Okay.” He nodded at her. “We can do burgers. Grill by the pit.” He nodded outside where there was enough firewood.

She was going to tell him she could do it but she knew she was pushing her luck with bossing him around for the day and had already won the bed argument so she simply nodded. “Sounds great. We have chips and apples. And I may have told him we’d do s’mores one day.” She admitted with a grin.

The boy looked up at the mention of s’mores and squealed in excitement with a grin before going to the cabinet he knew the marshmallows were stored and took them out and shoved them in Din’s lap.

“Okay kid. I promise we’ll make s’mores tonight.” He smiled softly back at him with a chuckle and grunted as he leaned down to pull out a clean shirt and pulled it over his head. “Come on, we’ll give Aurora a break and let her change. You can help me with the firewood.” He told the boy and picked him up on his good side.

“You really shouldn’t be-” She called after him.

“I’m fine!” He called back to her, exasperated huff in his voice.

“Stubborn man.” She muttered to herself as she closed the van door so she could change into dry clothes. She pulled out a pair of yoga leggings, a tank top and her favorite cardigan before slipping on some shoes. She pulled her hair up in a messy bun and stepped out of the van with an armful of groceries for dinner.

By the time she emerged with everything, Din had the fire going and the boy was watching the flames in fascination and delight.

“You uh… Got the burger meat?” Din’s voice pulled her attention away from the boy. She turned to look at him and he was gesturing at her arms full of the food.

“Oh um… Yeah.” She nodded and smiled softly at him as he pulled out the meat and went to work on making patties.

“I’ll just cook all of it and we can reheat them on the road, if one of us is hungry for them.” He suggested.

She kept an eye on the boy as she set everything else out on the picnic table. “Good idea, there’s foil in the van so we can wrap the extras after dinner.”

“Sounds good.” Din nodded and let the boy hold the plate so he could place the cooked patties on them while Aurora put everything on the picnic table so they could eat.

After the burgers were done, Aurora helped the boy fix his up and put all his food on a plate while Din opened up a couple of beers for himself and her. “Thanks.” She told him with a smile as he handed her one and she fixed her own meal. Now that the boy was happily eating his dinner.

“You’re welcome.” He told her simply as they sat and ate dinner in a comfortable silence.

After dinner, Aurora cleaned up and put everything away while Din showed the boy how to toast marshmallows and make S’mores. By nine, he was exhausted and falling asleep in his lap in his chair. So Aurora set up his little bed that was able to sit above the front seats and he could see the stars through the moonroof.

By the time Din got him in his bed, he came back out to see Aurora curled up in a chair staring at the fire. Lost in thought it seemed, almost sad.

“You… Okay?” He asked her softly, not wanting to startle her. She still seemed to be jumpy.

“Hmm?” She looked up to him and nodded. “Yeah just… Thinking.” She finished.

Din could tell something was on her mind, but he decided not to press it. Not right now anyhow. “Okay.” He nodded at her and looked up when he heard a faint rumble of thunder. “Storms coming in. You want to get ready for bed first?” He offered her.

She looked up at the sky and then back at him. “Sure. Thanks.” She told him. “You’re still sleeping on the bed though.” She insisted with a look to him as he started putting the camper chairs away.

He considered her words while she disappeared quietly into the van to change. They were both adults, he wondered how she would take it if he told her they should share. He would never hurt her or do anything to her without her consent. Hell, they were practically co-raising a kid together.

Once she was done changing he slipped inside while she waited outside to change as well. When he was done, she slipped back inside while he did a final check of the campsite before the rain came. “All good.” He told her as he shut the van door.

“Great.” She nodded at him as she took a pillow off the bed and her blanket. Prepared to go to the front seat and curl up. “Goodnight Din.” She told him softly.

“Hey…” He called to her gently, fingers grasping onto her wrist to keep her from going up front. “I don’t feel right, you sleeping up there.” He motioned to the front of the van. “If you’re comfortable with it… We’re both adults and the bed’s big enough for two.” He offered.

Aurora halted when he grasped her wrist, he didn’t touch her often. Usually when he did, it was casually. But this, this was something different. “Oh…” She breathed out, blue eyes wide and staring at him. “Are you sure?” She asked him hesitantly.

“I am. But only if you’re comfortable with it. Just… Thought I’d offer.” He stated bluntly. A long silence filled the van, only interrupted by the steady fall of rain outside and the child’s steady breathing behind them.

“Okay… Yes… Thank you.” She told him as she slowly walked to the bed, where he sat.

“You um… Sleep to the back of the van. In case… Anyone shows up.” He explained. Din was notoriously paranoid. She knew he had at least one hand gun hidden under the mattress and she had a feeling he was worried her ex would show up and hurt her.

She tensed when he mentioned the possibility of danger and he shook his head. “Hey… Look at me, I got you.. Alright? I just want to make sure you’re safe. So I’ll take the side closest to the door.” He promised her.

“Yeah… Okay.” She whispered at him and crawled into the bed. Getting under the covers and laying her blanket over her as well.

Din watched her get in and he followed suit. It had been a long time since he’d shared a bed with anyone, let alone a woman. And he wasn’t sure what to do as he laid on his back.

“Do you really think he’s looking for me?” Her cracked voice breaking the silence.

Din debated on lying to her but he wanted her to be careful and safe if he was on a job. And realistically, he probably was looking for her still. He turned on his side to face her. “Yes. I think he probably is.”

“Is this how it’s going to be from now on? Always looking over my shoulder and afraid of him?” She asked him.

“No.” Din growled in the darkness. “I told you I’ve got you. And if he comes for you, I’ll take care of him myself. You don’t deserve to be scared your whole life.” He could sense she was upset and he was fiercely protective over this woman he’d come to know over the past couple of weeks.

“Thank you.” She whispered out. Tears falling down her cheeks now and she was grateful Din couldn’t see her. “I’m just so tired of being afraid of him.”

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” His large hand came to her face and gently wiped her tears. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.” He murmured.

Instinctively, she leaned into his touch. Purely because having a man touch her so tenderly was so rare for her. “Okay.”

“Get some sleep, mi querida .” He told her gently as he stroked her cheek until she fell asleep.

#My writing #Din Djarin x OC #Be With Me #Pedro Pascal #*shows up so fucking late with Starbucks*#Din Djarin #The Mandalorian

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beautiful-de4mity · 4 years

Text

[Alice Nine Fanfiction] ASYLUM

“You can’t say this world is kind to people. That’s how it is.”

Saga's body freezes instantly, paralyzed. His throat is choked painfully in order to endure a scream that refuses to come out of his chest, a feeling of intense fear gripping him but he is unable to do anything about it. Shou said he means no harm, but Saga has no reason to believe him. If the family that gave birth to and raised you could be so cruel, is there any guarantee that a stranger like Shou won't do the same?

Chapter 01 [Lingering]

Author: beautiful-de4mity

Fandom: Alice Nine

A/n: inspired by ASYLUM that is always incredibly stunning during lives and I have always been captivated by Saga x Shou’s relationship both on stage and real life. This is my first time ever writing Alice Nine’s fanfiction in English, I’m going to need maaaaaaaany critics 😥💦

Inspired song: ASYLUM from PLANET NINE Album

Disclaimer: Alice Nine belongs to themselves wwwww

At two fifteen in the afternoon, all of Shou's classes for the day finally ended. In one deep breath, the handsome young man tidies up all his belongings and hurriedly moves outside the campus. He should have met with Amano sensei at the private central hospital in Shibuya at one o'clock, but Professor Hisashi, his lecturer of Psychological Testing and Measurement, suddenly asked for additional classes after lunch since he has to attend a seminar out of town next week.

Shou's heart skips a beat groggily as he reaches the nearest bus stop, opens his cellphone and checks the reply email from Amano sensei two days ago containing an invitation to meet the man in his office. Shou fell at the first glance with that young neuropsychiatrist—since he was still a freshman to be exact. At that time, the campus held a seminar on Speech Language Disorder by inviting several experts as speakers and Amano Tora was one of them. Shou recalls vividly how fascinated he was watching the young doctor's every move up to the podium, explaining the material on Aphasia for about thirty minutes in a casual manner contrasted with his deep voice. From then on, Shou was secretly determined to focus his studies on neuropsychiatry and began to diligently read articles in that field.

Shou ends his flashback when the bus that is going to take him to the hospital arrived. In a bit of a hurry, Shou gets on the bus and pays using IC card before sitting in the back seat near the window, still trying to calm his nervousness. In the past few weeks, Shou has been working hard on a research proposal on mutism (after reading an article of which Amano Tora is one of the contributing authors) and sending it to the young doctor and asking him to become the instrument validator. Shou didn't even update the contents of his YouTube channel to make a perfect proposal, he was overjoyed when Amano sensei replied to his email and invited him to meet!

The trip to the hospital is painfully slow for the impatient Shou. The young man keep tapping his feet on the bus floor, tidying his shirt, his brown hair, and muttering what words he will say to Amano sensei later. As soon as the bus stops at its destination, Shou jumps excitedly from his seat and hurries off. By his pair of long slender legs, Shou has no trouble getting to the hospital building in less than ten minutes.

“Anou, sumimasen. May I know where the psychiatry ward is?" asks Shou at the hospital information center.

A young female staff member smiles kindly and explains to him where the psychiatric ward is. Shou rushes to follow the female staff's direction while taking out his cellphone again from his pocket to inform Amano sensei that he is already in the hospital.

"Ohara?" Shou's head automatically lifted when someone calls his name as soon as he stepped out of the elevator. His heart is racing when he realizes it is Amano sensei.

"Ha—hai," Shou bows a little too deeply. "Amano sensei, thank you for accepting my research proposal and agreeing to become a validator," he stammers.

Amano sensei chuckles as he waves his hand, “Don't be so formal with me. Just call me Tora sensei or Tora. I'm not that old."

"Eh?" Shou's beautiful eyes widened to find how casual this person he’s always idolized. "Ii desu ka?"

Amano sensei or Tora then nods and invites Shou who is still a little bit overwhelmed to his office. Shou silently watches the side profile of the young doctor; their height is not much different so that their shoulders almost brush, Tora's stern facial lines and unlike Japanese men in general make him even more charming, his enormous figure is clad in a dark shirt with folded sleeves up to elbows and the top two buttons of his shirt are loosely open. Shou’s face starts to heat up and he immediately looks away.

"Please come in," Tora opens the door to his room.

Tora's workspace is large enough to accommodate a set of assembled PCs on his working desk surrounded by paperwork and important documents. There is also a cup of cold, half-drunken coffee and an ashtray filled with cigarette butts. Shou raises an eyebrow at how 'carefree' this young doctor is, in fact he doesn't reflect a doctor-like personality at all. Or is it because his area of expertise is psychology that's why Tora has this happy-go-lucky attitude? Shou subconsciously starts analyzing in his head.

"Please sit down, why are you staying there?" Tora chuckles at the empty chair across his work chair.

"Ah, yes, alright ~" Shou sits up awkwardly.

"Hmm, so I've read your proposal and I have to admit it's the most interesting topic I've read in the past year, let alone an undergraduate student who compiled it," Tora opens the conversation.

Receiving such praise, Shou can’t help but blushes.

"What attracted you to mutism?"

Shou immediately swallows hard. There's no way he can say that the reason he brought up this topic was because of the article he read last month in which Tora was one of the contributors. Shou was silent for a long time before simply answering the truth.

"I—read an article written by Professor Matsuda about mutism in traffic accident patients and was interested in exploring the topic."

Tora lifts an eyebrow, "Oh," the young doctor rises from his chair and takes something from the bookshelf, Tora waves a print out of a twenty pages-thick paper. "Case Study of Neurogenic Mutism in Traffic Accident Patients with Brain Damage, 2016?"

Shou nods, his hand feels cold.

"I was involved in this research too, it is very interesting indeed." Tora smiles then sits back down on his chair, Shou lets out a sigh of relief. “Actually I invited you here with a wish to offer something, too, if you don't mind."

A slipping sensation like jumping two stairs at once occupies Shou’s belly when he heard that. "What is it, sensei?"

***

You can’t say this world is kind to people; that’s how it is.

Did I lose something? I don’t know what it is, in this empty dissonance.

The surroundings are always cold even though the air conditioner is not turned on and these white clothes cover his whole body. The young man is sitting in the corner, staring at a small aquarium with bluish neon lights located near a large glass window where people usually watch him and take notes on his every move. It doesn't stop there, every corner of the room has CCTV connected to a computer somewhere in this big hospital, he doesn't know, he doesn't care. He just wants to live quietly. He just wants some warmth.

His bony arm is lifted, revealing an iron plaque on his wrist with some information about him engraved on the surface. The young man is stunned to stare at it for a moment.

Name: SAGA Age: 18 Admission date: 2019/05/12

Two people has just come and study him through the glass window, catching his attention. One is Amano Tora, one of the neuropsychiatrists who is assigned to take care of him, while the other one—Saga tilts his face intrigued—a tall, slender fine-looking young man with brown hair and a pair of big beautiful eyes who is now smiling at him. Amano Tora seems to explain something to the beautiful-eyed young man, they seem to be engaged in a serious conversation. A few moments later, the door opens and the two men enter to greet him.

“How are you doing today, Saga?” asks Amano Tora in a friendly tone that always make him feels weirdly relaxed and safe.

He nods curtly while his gaze darts on the other young man standing beside Amano Tora.

“Ah, yes. I bring a friend today. He is Ohara Shou and he is going to assist me in treating you from now on,” Amano Tora explains. “He’s an undergraduate student, you guys are the same age, I’m sure you can get along well in no time.” The doctor flashes a charming smile.

The beautiful-eyed young man named Shou comes forward and introduces himself, “Hajimemashite, Saga san, I’m Ohara Shou. Yoroshiku onegaishimasu!”

Shou is confused because Saga doesn't respond and stares at him intensely as if judging him from head to toe. Even so, Saga's dark irises fascinate him. Shou can clearly see Saga's jawline because his body is so thin, his eye bags are sunken and blackened, and his short dark hair is messy that almost covers his entire forehead, his body looks thin and frail. Earlier, Tora had already explained Saga's condition. He is a mutism patient who has been under the supervision of a hospital research team due to years of physical abuse from his own family. Until now, the research team has not been able to determine whether Saga’s case is a neurogenic mutism or the other type of mutism. The MRI scan showed that he had brain trauma which should not have affected his speech ability, but from the day the children welfare discovered him and admitted him to this hospital, Saga hasn't spoken a word to anyone.

After a few minutes allowing himself to be glared at by Saga, Shou kneels in front of the skinny young man and smiles gently at him, causing Saga to move back in fear. “It’s okay, I mean you no harm.” Carefully, Shou tries to reach Saga’s hands and holds them softly.

If the family that gave birth to and raised you could be so cruel, is there any guarantee that a stranger like Shou won't do the same?

#alice nine #アリス九號.#alice 9 #alice9 #fanfiction #alice nine fanfiction #A9 #ASYLUM #shou #tora #saga #shou x tora #shou x saga #tora x saga #SaShou #ToShou #ToSa

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ask-powerwoman · 3 years

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So, Villa how did Dot find out about Ultra Woman? And why did she leave in the first place?

*This story is heavily based on the Mega Man Archie comics.

“Hey, mum?” Dot asks her creator, Doctor Villa “I thought I was your first robot. WVN-00A.”

“That’s right.” Villa responds with a smile

“Then... who’s WVN-000, ‘Lyra’...?” Villa froze, and glances to the screen that her daughter was looking at.

“See?” Dot says pointing to the name, “I was cleaning up the database when I found this. Is it an error?”

Villa sighs. “That... that isn’t an error.” She says, “Lyra was your older sister.”

Dot’s eyes light up. “Really?! Where is she? When do I get to meet her?”

“I’m sorry, Dot. But I’m afraid you’ll never get to meet Lyra.” Villa says sadly “she was my first triumph, and my greatest failure...”

“I... I don’t understand. What happened?” Dot asks.

That’s when Villa began to explain what had happened many years ago. When she was younger, more naive, and just beginning her life’s work. Back when She still counted Doctor Wily as a friend...

~~~

“That’s it Albert! She’s all done!” Villa says with a smile, lifting the goggles up onto the top of her head.

“Mmm..” Wily placed a hand to his chin, examining Villa’s newest creation. “It’s awfully... human-looking, Winter.” He says “Your military contract was for an advanced combat robot. You’ve built a... young lady.”

“And” Villa says “And my robot master line WILL be capable of advanced warfare --as well as a myriad of other advanced mental processes. I’ll get them their weapon, but this prototype, My girl, will stay with me.”

“Hmph. I’d say... you were taking your love of robotics too far, but then I’d be a hypocrite.” Wily says with a softened smile to his friend. “Let’s wake her up.”

“Right. Wake up, dear, Good morning...” the robot girl sat up on the work table, her long blonde ponytail moving over slightly as she rubs her eyes. “...Lyra!”

“...hello?” Lyra says, hesitantly, before finding herself suddenly picked up off the table and into a strong hug.

“Welcome to the world my lovely girl!” Villa says happily “I am your creator, Doctor Villa!” She allows Lyra to sit down once again. “How do you feel? The self diagnostic should’ve kicked in first thing.”

“I feel... fine?” Lyra responds “all systems report nominal.” She looks around

“I... I feel... confused. Overwhelmed. Disoriented. I know we’re in the ‘lab’ and what a ‘lab’ is but... why?”

Villa smiles with excitement “do you hear this, Albert? She’s self aware! Not five minutes online and she’s already thinking metaphysically!”

“Mm-hmm.” Wily replies scribbling notes down on a pad “Don’t mind me... just taking the measurements you’ll need for the weapon upgrades later. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Lyra blinks and looks at her hands “w...weapons?”

“Don’t worry about that now. You’re taking the first steps to bridge the gap between humanity and robotics.” Villa places a hand on Lyra’s shoulder. “You have data, but what you need now, is culture.”

Villa took Lyra out to see the city. The large buildings that seem to tower over everything, She bought Lyra a long purple scarf that she was fascinated by, She took her to the museum to see wondrous pieces of artwork, to the forest area where she got to feed real, organic birds and a deer, and finally to the symphony in the park as the moon finally began to rise.

In retrospect, Villa was too enthusiastic back then. She pushed too much of the world--of her own goals--on Lyra at once. But she seemed to be accepting it all so well...

Unfortunately, this was also when Villa received a great deal of her funding from military research. Without it, she would never have been able to construct Lyra. However, her benefactors wanted something to show for their investments, so...

Villa placed a helmet on Lyra’s head carefully as they prepare for the demonstration.

“Remember your programming. Hit-and-Run, don’t be reckless, pick your targets wisely, don’t forget to use your cover to your advantage...”

“Relax.” Lyra says with a confident smile. “I got this.”

Villa let’s out a heavy sigh as Lyra walks into the field.

“G-good afternoon, gentlemen. Today’s demonstration is of Villa Labs autonomous combat robot, model number WVN-000.” She says to the military representatives. “Today you will see how a robot can be capable of independent thought. Villa Labs hopes to bring the same capabilities to the civilian sector one day. But first, we will demonstrate the versatility my d--er.. this robot can perform in a... in a live fire exercise. Future models will allow for military operations with no... um... risk to human life.”

The demonstration began. Lyra ducked behind one of the walls as the training drones began to rapid fire.

Lyra smirks, charging her buster and dashing out from her cover, taking out several drones before reaching the next piece of wall for cover.

The shots from the drones cracked the wall on the outside, but that didn’t stop Lyra from leaping up and grabbing a hold of the wall, using the top as cover to take out more drones.

But something wasn’t right.

Lyra lands back on the ground, pushing the wall hard enough to topple it over.

Her body sparking all the while.

As exercise 2 was about to start, the sparking grew worse. Lyra felt off. It was dizzying for her.

“Doc... Doctor V-Villa? Something’s...”

Lyra tried to fire at one of the new incoming drones, but it missed.

And the drones swoop down to cut her with the propeller blades

“Lyra? LYRA?!” Villa exclaims with fear and worry “STOP THE TEST!!”

She came running over to her daughter, who now lay weak on the ground.

“Everything was going so well.” One of the military representatives says, “What happened, doctor?”

“There... seems to be an imbalance in her power generator. She’s never been put under this kind of strain...” Villa says, examining the data she was receiving from the damaged prototype.

“You didn’t test it first?”

“Of course I did!” Villa exclaims “but everything about her is unique—experimental. A robot this advanced requires a tremendous amount of power, and when the output is pushed...”

“It certainly shows promise,” says one of the military representatives, “but the power failure is a concern.”

“Yes...” adds another, “A simpler model would require less power, a simpler battle software would still be sufficient.”

“Congratulations, Doctor, you’ve won us over. We’ll clear you for further research funding, get back to us when you’ve got a smaller, simpler model.”

“Y-yes, sirs...” Doctor Villa says as she held Lyra in her arms, “thank you...”

But that wasn’t Villa’s real failure with Lyra.

Later that night, Lyra woke up in the lab, her core plugged into several machines meant to keep it stable

“Ugh... Doctor Villa?” She asks, rubbing her head, but looking around, her creator was nowhere in sight.

But she could hear an argument from another room.

“Absolutely not!”

“Listen to yourself, Winter! You’re way too attached to her. Let me do the modifications.”

“I said ‘no!’”

Lyra pulls the chords out of her core, and slowly gets up and goes to see what was going on.

“Oh, so you’ll trust me to design her arm-cannon, but you won’t trust me to modify her power core?”

“You DESIGNED it, but you didn’t INSTALL it. I did!”

“And you obviously did it wrong, hence the imbalance!”

Lyra stood still, watching her mother fight with her friend.

“You were BANNED from directly working on advanced robotics.”

“Nice of you to reopen THAT wound, Winter.” Wily huffs.

“You brought that upon yourself!” Villa retorts, “But more importantly, Lyra is MY girl, and I’ll handle her redesigns.”

“Doctor Villa...” Lyra starts, gaining the attention of the two Doctors.

“Lyra!” Villa exclaims, “I didn’t know you were already recharged.”

Villa knelt down to her level, placing her hands on her shoulders.

“Are you alright? Do you feel off-balance at all?”

“I’m fine” Lyra replies, “what’s this about redesigning me?”

Doctor Villa sighs, “your power generator is flawed.” She says, pointing to Lyra’s core. “If I don’t fix it, the imbalance will eventually destroy you. I have to redesign your core to save you.”

“And what if you bungle it,” Wily starts, “and erase all her personal programming?”

“I’m sure you’ll retain all your personality traits!” Villa says, in an attempt to reassure her daughter.

“Heh—just as you were sure her generator would work properly?”

“Enough, Albert, you’ll scare her! You’re not helping!”

“I know. You won’t let me.”

“I said ‘Enough!’”

“Fine, fine.”

“Lyra,” Villa says to her daughter, “Go hook yourself up in the lab so your power remains stable. We’ll begin work tomorrow.”

“But...”

“Now, please. This is for your own good.”

“...But” Lyra says quietly, “What about what I want?”

That night... Well, Villa can’t be certain if this was how it played out, But she had run the scenario over and over again in her head...

Lyra hid behind the wall to Villa’s room, listening as her mother talked to herself.

“I just don’t understand. It’s to save her life.” Villa says to herself as she paced back and forth in her room. “I coded the closest thing to a will of her own, but I want her to use it to make good, logical decisions.”

She sighs “..who would be logical facing their own mortality? Oh, Thomas. If you were here, you would know what to do...” Villa says, looking at an old picture of Thomas light, Wily and herself.

“Perhaps if I... it would be a lot easier if I did rewrite that rebellious streak out of her...”

Hearing that, Lyra had enough. Gripping her fist she leaves before she could hear the rest of what Villa had said to herself.

“No, no, no... what am I saying?” Villa says facepalming, “Once she’s repaired I’ll have to make it up to her in some way. And, in the long run, she’ll see it was for the greater good.”

Lyra in the meantime, was sobbing. As she packed a bag full of E-Tanks for a long and lonely trip ahead of her, she glanced at a picture of Villa and herself.

Smiling as if they had a perfect life... what lies had Villa been feeding her?...

In a moment of anger, Lyra smashed the photo on a ground.

The she walked out the door, never to come back.

~~~

“I never heard of or saw her again.” Villa says to Dot. “My pride, My arrogance, My lack of foresight... they robbed me of my first creation... My first daughter.”

“Well, then, we can go look for her!” Dot says with a smile “Me and Bounce can start looking right now!”

Villa chuckles a little. “No, Dot. Lyra’s power generator would’ve gone offline by now. It pains me to say it, but she’s gone.” She says with a sorrowful tone.

“Although there are long nights where I wonder what happened to her after she left...”

*A/N: this was a good excuse to submit a story instead of a comic. Hope you enjoyed this little story!

#megaman #ask #mega man #megaman au #ocs #story #fanfic #decided to try posting this lol

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keanuvibe · 4 years

Text

Bodyguard (John Wick x Reader) Pt. 2

A/N: Hi, so I said this was gonna be uploaded tonight or tomorrow, but I wanna upload now so :) happy surprise ig

Words: 2.7k

Warnings: swear words, minor sexual themes

part one

“Tell me, Mr. Wick,” You began, “What made you leave the assassination business?”

“Call me John,” He murmured. You two currently found yourselves in your family’s library. You were doing some research for your father, looking to find underground access to a certain building in the city. The room was a big open space. Shelves had been built custom into the wall, almost up to the ceiling, and a large chandelier donned the center of the room. There was also a fireplace with seating around it and a small bar off to the right. It was late afternoon now, causing the sun to cast golden hues through the windows. The honey colored beams illuminated the dark wood interior to be more rich in color.

It’s been two days since Mr. Wick was hired. Since then, he’s moved into your home currently in the room across the hall from your own. Your father originally wanted him to sleep in the servants quarters with your family’s hired help, however your mother argued he should be near you; in case anything was to happen. To be honest, having this stoic man so close to you the past few days was starting to mess with your person a bit. Due to your family’s business, you have never been able to date. You had one night stands, yes, but kept them a secret. Your father made it very clear you were to marry in the Mafia, however, you didn’t want to, so you didn’t make an effort. But John…

You derailed your thought train and paused from browsing the shelf to look at the man. He stood tall, a good ten inches above your own height, causing a slight feeling of intimidation to cross your nerves. His hands were tucked behind his back while his face held no expression.

“Okay, John, Why did you leave?” You asked, turning your attention back to the shelf and brushing the feeling off your back.

“I was retired.” He spoke, his eyes gazing at your busy figure. John couldn't deny, there was something fascinating about you. Normally he’s able to read a person by looking at them he can determine their actions, what they're thinking, their body language-- however with you… he couldn’t. You didn’t scare him though; you were shorter, not as skilled, and young. There was nothing to be frightened of, yet, you were so ominous to him. You never spoke of your personal life, what your plans were, how you were feeling. He doesn’t even know if you have a middle name. But he wants to.

“What brought you back?” You continued, pulling a book from a shelf and blowing the dust off of it. The grime quickly found its way to the sunbeams, showing off in little glowing specs.

“Debts.” Was all that came from John’s mouth. Your eyes looked up to his, noticing he’d been watching you. The hair on your arms pricked up slightly at the feeling of intrusion. You took in a quick breath and tried to cover it with a ‘Hmm’; however, you had the feeling John saw right through it.

“That sounds… unfortunate.” You murmured, turning your attention back to the books. John didn’t reply to your comment; he only cleared his throat and looked away. The two of you remained quiet for a while as you searched for the blueprint of the building. Occasionally you would hear the man shuffle, or take a few steps away to look around. It took you ten minutes before you found the correct blueprint. However, before you could mention it to John, you heard the click of his shoes across the hardwood.

“Beautiful home.” He mumbled, stopping to look at a painting of your family on the wall. You turned your focus to admire the man. He stood at the perfect angle, causing a sunbeam to illuminate him from behind. Your gaze started at his feet, then worked its way up. His shoes were a pair of black leather oxfords, looking recently shined. He donned black suit pants, just tight enough that they clung to his thighs and butt nicely. At his belt there were two guns strapped, and you could see where his shirt was tucked into his pants. He also wore a black vest atop the shirt, with a dark gray tie tucked behind it, and a suit jacket to finish. Your eyes then wandered up to his face, which was still focused on the artwork. You cherished the sharp, yet softness, of his features and how his hair, when in sunlight, shines brown instead of black.

Without more thought you padded over to him. John sensed your movement and immediately turned his attention towards you. He watched your figure make its way across the library, secretly enjoying the fluid movement of your body. You were wearing loose, light blue jeans with large holes cut into them showing off your legs. a flannel donned your top with a few buttons undone so it draped off your shoulders, then tucked safely into your jeans. John couldn't help but admire the sight of your exposed chest and collar bones-- his mind racing at how many ways he would worship them-- but quickly snapped out of the fantasy by reminding himself you were half his age. And he’s your bodyguard.

“I found what I was looking for, we can go.” You said, gesturing to the plans in your hand. John nodded, clearing his throat, and led the way to the exit, pulling the way open for you. As you walked through, John’s hand very lightly rest on your lower back. A fire erupt in the pit of your stomach, causing your nerve endings to feel electric.

——————

Yesterday

“How’re you adjusting to living with us, John?” You asked the burly man. He gazed down at you, his stride slower to match your shorter one. You and John were currently on your way to one of your father’s ‘businesses’. As part of your duties, he put you in charge of two fronts, both of which were tailor shops.

“It’s almost been a month, I’m doing fine.” He spoke, his eyes scanning the streets. New Yorkers shuffled passed the two of you as you made your way down the block. The sun shone down, adding a gentle glow and mid-summer heat to the atmosphere.

“I only ask because Molly said you couldn’t find the cereal.” You smirked up at the man. Molly is one of the live in maids, she’s been with your family for three years now. John’s silence caused you to chuckle and focus back on the street ahead.

A motorcycle roar in the distance gathered your attention, causing you to turn your head. A little ways down the street a group of maybe four or five motorcyclists could be seen. You squint your eyes to examine the scene better, noticing they all matched wearing the same matte black helmets and black jackets. Their engines gathered more power as the stoplight turned green, and they began to head in your direction. John quietly put his arm in front of your body, shielding it, before turning his attention towards the group as they gained speed. You saw his arm sink into his suit jacket, knowing he was reaching for his gun. By now the group had caught up with you, roaring passed. You noticed some of them had their arms pointed in the direction of you and John, and it hadn’t occurred to you as to what they were holding until the ricochet of bullets on the building behind you caught your ears. As though you were in slow motion, John covered your body with his own, his back facing the street as you two dove to the ground. The pedestrians around you began to scream, also dropping their bodies for cover.

The bullets didn’t stop hitting the brick until the group disappeared, turning down the street. In one fluid movement, John removed himself from atop you and pulled his gun from its hiding place aiming in the direction the bikers took off in. When no more action was made, the man cleared his throat and holstered his weapon. The people around you quickly got up and ran off, once realizing it was safe. John gently grabbed your bicep, helping you stand up.

“Are you okay?” He asked, voice low. You looked up to meet his gaze, noting the fire in his eyes. You felt your stomach turn- delightfully- at his stare.

“Y-yeah. They didn’t get me.” You murmured, averting your eyes and dusting your shoulder off. John didn’t waste anymore time, he grabbed your arm once again and began quickly escorting you to the nearby tailor shop.

“Fanculo quei bastardi!” ‘[Fuck those bastards!]’ Your father, Francesco, cursed in Italian. Rain poured down heavily hitting the stained-glass windows with such vigor, all other sounds had been drowned out. The dining room was a cold gray shade, coating nearly everything in dull light. You stood next to the window, watching the water pour down the glass warping the shadows outside. Another attempt was made on your life yesterday. You and John were out doing errands when It happened. You managed to finish the day alive, merely shaken up.

“Santino può succhiare il mio-” ‘[Santino can suck my-]’

“Papa, please.” You murmured, turning your attention from the window to your angry father. The room was empty, save for you, Francesco and John.

“He’s desperate. He wants to run me off so he can have full control of New York.” Francesco muttered, taking a sip from his glass containing dark liquor. Your gaze met John’s, his dark eyes looking up at you through his lashes-- It made your stomach flutter.

“What can we do?” You asked, walking away from the window and over by your father. “Santino already has most of New York, papa.” You poured yourself a glass of the liquor and took a swig, cringing as it burned your throat. Your father cursed some more and slammed his glass down onto the table.

“Jonathan, take her to her room, per favore.” ‘[Please.]’ His hand swiftly covered his face in frustration before he took a deep breath. John stood from his seat at the table, and made eye contact with you, gesturing to exit the room. You took one last look at your father before leaving the room, beginning the walk to your own. John quietly followed behind, his hand gently placing itself on your lower back-- but only for a mere three seconds.

“They are going to keep me under lock and key.” You spoke with malice, opening up your bedroom door. John closed it behind himself after following you in.

“They’re doing what they have to.” The man replied. His gaze never left your body, watching as you scoffed and muttered some words in Italian.

“Some days I wish they’d just kill me-- that Santino himself would shoot me point blank.” You groaned, pacing back and forth next to your bed. John left his position by the door and made his way over to you. Your room was bathed in cool daylight, as the rain was still pouring and no sunlight peeked through the clouds. It set a somber mood, not only in yourself, but John could feel it as well. You observed the large man as he strode across the room, a presence about him. He looked handsome today, wearing his signature three piece black suit, and his hair was gelled back. John gently placed his hand on your shoulder, guiding you to sit down onto your bed. You felt your skin tingle where his fingers lingered, causing a chill to caress your spine.

Over the last month, you’d noticed John wasn’t as much of a hard ass as he likes to give off. In front of company he didn’t smile, speak, or be really-- however, with you it felt as though he made an effort to… feel. Even though the man had begun showing emotion with you, he still hadn't breached the personal life line. In fact you two hadn’t really sat down and talked before. In the time that you’ve known each other, you can only recall three things about the man; his name, weight, and height. And that's only because of his bio.

The sensation of a body sitting next to your own brought you back to reality. You blinked a few times and turned your head, meeting the gaze of John. His usually dark eyes had softened to a warm caramel-- even in the cool lighting of your bedroom. You’d never seen John look so soft before. A few strands of his gelled hair had fallen in front of his eyes, and you couldn’t help but want to gently remove them.

“I’m going to do everything I can to prevent Santino from getting to you.” John spoke so softly, yet firm, a fire began to spark in your stomach. You bit the inside of your cheek, followed by a slight inhale and parting of your lips, only wanting to accept the fire with open arms. You can’t lie, you’re attracted to John. His piercing gaze and tall, muscular figure, stunned your own; ever since the first moment he walked into your home. However, the man is twice your age. Hell, he’s as old as your own father. Was it weird? To have such an attraction to an older gentleman? John didn’t seem old, the only old thing about him is his age. His hair was still raven dark, his stubble too; maybe a few grays, but those only added to your attraction. The main tell was the soft wrinkles that surrounded his dark eyes.

“I-I appreciate it.” You whispered, not allowing your voice to gain any volume in fear of it cracking. John let a small smile form before he stood up from your bed, now walking to your bedroom windows to do his usual rounds. Every time you two entered a room, John would check each window for any threats that could be looming outside. Your eyes lingered on his figure as he strode away from you-- his pants tight around his thighs and butt. You loved those specific pants because they were his tightest pair. You felt a throb in your lower abdomen and quickly shook your head, turning to look away from the problem causer.

“Um, I-I’m gonna go take a bath.” You spoke quietly, standing up from your seat at the bed. John’s eyes observed your person as you glided across the room to the bathroom. He let out a breath he was holding once you exited his view. God. (Y/N). You were driving John mad. His love life is... well, complicated. Ever since the passing of his wife, Helen, the man didn’t feel the need to feel anymore. He’d gotten back into the business after she died only to occupy his mind from thinking. Taking this job was supposed to be a nice break from the heavier situations he normally deals with… however, now he’s starting to feel differently. From the first moment he saw your face, he felt a warmth in his chest. A warmth he hasn't felt since Helen.

The faucet beginning to run caught John’s attention, derailing his thought train. He glanced out of the window he was next to one more time before quietly making his way across the room and to the bathroom door; which you left slightly ajar. Through the gap, his eyes witnessed your bare back as you bent over-- most likely adding bubble bath or a bath bomb. He felt his stomach gather heat witnessing your stunning exposed skin and his breath caught in his throat. You figure flipped around, revealing your full naked form and John quietly groaned reveling in your glory. He felt his arousal pick up, but just as it happened, he dug his nails into his palm to stop himself from feeling more. He witnessed you climb into the tub, sinking into the bubbles with a glass of wine in your hand, and sighed softly. A quiet nagging in the back of his thoughts kept wishing he was sitting behind you; washing your back, kissing your neck, touching you.

John shook his head, now feeling voyeuristic, and left his spot by the bathroom door. He could hear your laughter and music gently begin to float out from the crack in the entryway and felt himself smile-- but only allowing a small grin. He was beginning to think he’d enjoy this job a lot more; with the image of your naked form still fresh in his mind.

#john wick #john wick x reader #john wick x you #keanu reeves #keanu reeves x reader #keanu x you #john wick fanfic #john wick fanfiction #keanu reeves fanfic #keanu reeves fanfiction #fic: bodyguardAU

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featherymalignancy · 5 years

Photo

CHAPTER THREE—In Vino Veritas: A Nessian Story

“In wine lies the truth”

Summary: Nesta Archeron is convinced she has everything she wants: a law degree from an ivy, a prestigious job, a gorgeous boyfriend, and excellent taste in wine. However, when she wanders into her local wine vendor and meets a handsome stranger unafraid to play her quick-witted games, she begins to wonder if the life she’s built is really the one she wants.

Cash Kahukore worked his entire adolescent life to become a sommelier, ignoring the slurs his mixed heritage have always earned him as he fought his way to the top. However, after five years abroad buying for Michelin star restaurants and dealing with rich white assholes, he’s grown bored with his life. When a gorgeous lawyer comes in to his uncle’s shop one afternoon, he immediately recognizes a worthy opponent in her. Undaunted by her sharp tongue and possessive boyfriend, he’s determined to be her friend, and—as time goes on and their circumstances change—possibly something more.

This a prequel to Navy Suits and Chelsea Boots that takes place three years before. If you love Elriel (and don’t mind finding out how this story ends) check it now.

Check out the masterlist for In Vino Veritas here!

Chapter Three: Bollinger

This time, Nesta didn’t bother lying to herself; she’d made the trip to Merchant because she wanted to see Cash.

It was perfectly innocent, though. She’d had a good day was all, and the truth was she didn’t have an over-abundance of friends in San Francisco. It would just be nice to see a familiar face. Besides, Tomás was out of town, which made this...easier than it might have ordinarily been.

The old bell chimed as she strode in, and Cash—who’d be pouring over what looked like an inventory report behind the bar—grinned when he saw her, eyes glittering. His hair was tied up in its usual style at its crown, but today he also wore a pair of dark-rimmed glasses that made him look more distinguished, if no less roguish. She found it vaguely irritating that he seemed to get more handsome every time she saw him.

“Let me guess,” he said in greeting. “Another dinner party.”

“No,” she said primly, setting her bag down and perching on a stool. “Today we’re celebrating.”

He grinned, teeth bright against his bronze skin.

“Are we?”

“We are,” she said. “I just won a huge case.”

“Congratulations. Unless—” he narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t defending a murderer, were you? Tell me he didn’t do it.”

“It was a civil case. Police brutality.”

Cash’s eyes softened.

“Not just a supermodel, then. A superhero, too.”

Nesta let the comment glance off of her, unsure the sort of damage it could do her if she let it sink in. Instead she pursed her lips.

“The officer broke my client’s back during a rough ride. A man who’d done so little wrong that he was never even charged for the supposed crime he was arrested for. He was only in police custody so long because he ended up in surgery.” She shook her head. “Fifteen hours on the table, and he’ll still never walk again. I pushed for criminal charges but couldn’t get the government to prosecute, so I took the case to civil court instead.”

She flashed a dour smile.

“I made sure there wasn’t a cent left on the table.”

Cash let out a low whistle.

“You sort of scare me, you know?”

Nesta shrugged, feeling oddly pleased by this observation.

“Normally I only take on criminal defense cases pro-bono, but this wasn’t one I was going to let slide.”

“You fascinate me,” Cash admitted, and Nesta huffed, not wanting to let that sink in, either.

Unfortunately, it was harder to ignore, and Nesta felt her cheeks warming.

“Maybe you just need to get out more.”

Cash laughed, eyes glittering from behind his frames.

“I’ve been out plenty, trust me.”

“Gross,” she sniped, and he laughed again.

“I didn’t mean it like that. You’re just determined to make me a philanderer, aren’t you?”

She glanced at her watch to give herself something to do.

“You’ve yet to prove you aren’t one.”

“I can’t prove a lack of something. As for proving the opposite—“ he shrugged. “Maybe I’ll surprise you.”

“I don’t care for surprises,” she said, needing to change the subject.

It felt too much like they were flirting again, and it was a line she knew she couldn’t cross. Tomás would be beside himself if he ever found out.

“Alright,” Cash said, seeming to read her body language. “Enough witty banter. What kind of champagne do you like?”

“Bollinger,” she said. “If you have it.”

Cash grinned, the gold in his ears winking at her as he propped his chin on a fist.

“Are you sure you’re not a international super spy? That’s James Bond’s favorite, too.”

She couldn’t stifle a short laugh.

“How do you even know that?”

“When are you going to accept that when it comes to wine, there’s nothing I don’t know?”

“Never,” she said in challenge. “Because someday you’re going to make a mistake, and I vow to be there to roast you for it when you do.”

Cash raised his eyebrows, leaning in slightly.

“Then I’ll be sure to make said mistake in the shower.”

“Cash,” she warned, even as she fended off another laugh.

“You’re the one making threats!” He said, holding up his hands. “I can’t help it if you occasionally fall victim to your own hubris.”

“I—“ she began, still trying to avoid imagining what Cash looked like in the shower. His thick hair slicked back, skin glistening as water ran down the arched grooves of his Adonis belt towards his thick—

She cleared her throat.

“Fine. You win this round.”

“Part of me is afraid that you’re only giving ground as some sort of tactic, but I’ll take my wins where I can get them.”

“Then I have you just where I want you,” she said, glad to have made her way back to more familiar terrority.

He laughed, going to get the champagne.

“You can have me wherever you want, Archeron,” he called, but before she could censure him for it, he’d disappeared into the back.

He came back carrying the Bollinger and two antique glasses that reminded her of Downton Abbey.

“Nice touch,” she said, gesturing to them.

Cash flashed a self-satisfied smirk.

“Thought you’d like these. Be gentle with them, these are Dev’s babies.”

He popped the bottle with a expert kiss of sound before pouring a measure for each of them and pushing one of the glasses to her.

He held his up to her.

“To the justice we can get.”

She raised hers in answer.

“Even if it isn’t the justice that’s deserved.”

Their glasses sang as they touched, and Nesta paused before taking a sip so she could watch him take his. As always, his reaction didn’t disappoint.

His brows drew together as he gave a hum of appreciation, biting his lip as he let the flavor linger. She hurriedly took a sip herself, not wanting to get caught admiring him. She could feel him studying her in return as she did.

She let her eyes flutter shut as the satiny bubbles caressed her tongue.

“What do you taste?”

Her eyes snapped open to find he was still watching her, head cocked slightly to the side.

“You’re the expert,” she said archly. “You tell me.”

He laughed.

“I already know the profile. I want to hear what you think.”

“Is this your way of putting me in my place after all my dress-downs?”

His grin faded, something she couldn’t quite name softening his hazel eyes.

“Never. I just—“ some of the tension melted from his shoulder as he gave a laugh that didn’t feel entirely genuine. “You obviously have a great palette. I just want to know what it is you like about this vintage in particular. Think of it as—market research, if you want.”

She considered this, and him, because taking another sip.

“I’d know it was champagnois even if I’d never had it before. It’s nuttier than a Prosecco or a Cava. Not as finely-edged. And the fruit in it is lightly spiced. Apple, definitely. And...pear, maybe? It reminds me of Christmas.”

She glanced up to find him looking at her.

“Well?” she said, feeling oddly embarrassed. “How did I do?”

“Spot on,” he said. “Though no surprises there. You would have made a great sommelier. A big part of the job is painting a picture that makes people fall in love with the wine. That description was painfully charming.”

“Don’t be obsequious,” she warned, even as she felt herself preening a little from the compliment.

“No idea what that means,” he said with a grin. “But I will do my best. How did things turn out with your sister and the Riesling?”

Nesta flashed a feline smirk, one she knew sent most men running for the hills.

“Better than I could have hoped,” she said “Graysen’s mother wouldn’t stop raving about it. Her new favorite, she said. Even better than the bottle Graysen got here for her birthday last year.”

Her smirk widened as he shook his head, laughing.

“You’re gonna put this poor kid in therapy.”

Nesta sniffed, taking another sip.

“He’s made Ellie cry more than once; he can burn in Hell for all I care. Besides, he couldn’t be less worthy of her if he were were a clown car mechanic. I’m going to throw a gala they day they break up for good.”

“If you could invent a perfect man for Elain, what would he be like?”

“Quiet,” Nesta said immediately, and when Cash laughed, she added, “I’m serious! Graysen is constantly talking, and she can never get a word in when they’re together. She has so many interesting things to say; she deserves a guy who wants nothing more than to listen to her all day.”

“A wallflower, roger that. What else?”

Nesta considered.

“Someone who does sweet things for her. Elain’s love language is acts of service. Men always want to buy her expensive things or spouts odes to her beauty. What she really wants is someone who will pack her a sack lunch or get her car washed. Also dark-haired. Grown men shouldn’t be blonde.”

Cash grinned, eyes slight.

“He sounds like a dreamboat. Maybe I should let you find me someone, too.”

Nesta was surprised at how much the comment ached. Not that she begrudged Cash meeting a woman; he certainly deserved it. She just—didn’t want to have to imagine it.

“I don’t know you well enough to make an accurate assessment,” she sniffed, trying not to seem too desperate as she poured herself more champagne.

Cash opened his arms in invitation.

“What would you like to know?”

Nesta narrowed her eyes as she considered.

“How do you feel about Beyoncé?”

Cash laughed.

“Is this a trick?”

“Answer the question, please.”

“The Lemonade album deserves a permanent exhibit at the Smithsonian as a pillar of human achievement.”

She nodded in approval.

“Good. At least I know I can trust you now.”

“That’s your litmus rest?” He laughed. “What were you going to say if I say no?”

“Leave and never come back, obviously,” she said.

“Fair enough,” Cash allowed. “What else?”

“Best Hogwarts house?”

“Alright, this one is too easy. Gryffindor.”

Nesta feigned a gag.

“That is the most offensive thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“Daring and chivalrous! Those aren’t favorable traits to you?”

Nesta sniffed imperiously.

“Self-important and braggadocious, you mean. Besides, there’s nothing more dangerous that a person who’s convinced they’re right.”

He shook his head, chuckling.

“I feel so foolish. Everything about you screams Slytherin; I should have seen that question for the trap is was.”

“You know why I’ve been so successful in the courtroom?”

“Because you’re brilliant?”

She dismissed the compliment with a flick, even as it warmed her from the inside out.

“Because most of the time I’m going up against self-righteous prosecutors who’d rather waste their time beating their chest and waxing dramatically to the jury about my client’s character, instead of arguing the facts. It makes mounting a defense and tearing them to ribbons almost comically easy.”

“Like I said,” Cash offered, studying her with unchecked appreciation. “Fascinating.”

“I’ll change your mind before this is all over,” she said. “Mark my words.”

He leaned in slightly, enough that she could smell his clean scent again.

“Looking forward to it.”

They studied each other for a moment, and this time it was Cash who looked away, chuckling quietly to himself.

“What else?”

“Tell me secret. Something no one else knows about you.”

He considered this before turning over his forearms to show her his tattoos.

“I cried like a baby when I got these.”

She put her chin in her hand, if only to resist the urge to trace the slightly-ridged ribbons of ink. The designs were exquisitely tendered; whoever the artist was, they’d known what they were doing.

“Why?” she asked finally.

He laughed.

“Because they fucking hurt!”

She pursed her lips to indicate she wasn’t buying it, and he laughed again, glancing down at his forearms.

“Growing up, I just always felt like—I don’t know—a mongrel. When you’re a kid all you want to do is fit in, and being mixed, I never really felt like I did. I was—weirdly resentful I couldn’t just be like everyone else. I had my gran in my ear always spouting all this Māori stuff, but I just wanted to be Hawaiian. It wasn’t until she took me back to Waitomo when I was in high school that I got to see my culture for what it was—mine. I wanted to wear that pride on my skin.”

“So when you got the tattoos...”

He nodded.

“When I got the tattoos, I felt like I was reclaiming something I’d lost. Not just a sense of belonging, but a connection to my dad, who I never got to meet. It was—really emotional.”

“Did you take anyone with you?”

“My friend Ro. He was the only other Māori kid in my neighborhood growing up, so our families were always close.”

Cash laughed, adjusting his glasses.

“You should see him. His tats cover almost the whole left side of his damn body. If he hadn’t wanted to be a cop, I’m pretty sure he’d have gotten them on his face. We had to convince him to stop mid-neck.”

Cash glanced down at his own again, and Nesta couldn’t resist. Gingerly she reached out to follow the band on diamonds that studded along his wrist. She watched his skin pebble under her touch, and she pulled her hand back, knowing she was being unfair.

“That sounds—intimidating,” she said instead, trying to shift the conversation back.

Cash shrugged.

“He’s a sweet dude underneath all the gruffness, but yeah, he’s pretty terrifying with all that ink. I suppose it doesn’t help that he’s also 6’6 and looks like a jacked Anderson Cooper.”

She had to laugh.

“What does that even mean?”

“He started going grey when we were still in high school, and now he’s completely silver. It’s annoyingly dashing.“

Nesta snorted.

“The silver fox trope is such a double standard. If I was completely gray, no one would be gushing over it.”

Cash considered.

“I feel like you would be very striking as a silver vixen. Besides, I thought women dying their hair gray was a thing now?”

“How do you even know that?”

Cash laughed.

“My friend Rhys is a...great lover of females.He loves to opine on all the various trends.”

“Is that your polite way of saying he’s a playboy?”

Cash shrugged.

“His dad’s a billionaire. Az and I think he didn’t hear the word ‘no’ enough as a kid, and it’s made him restless and hedonistic. When he meets the right girl, though, it’s going to be game-set-match. I know it.”

“Thats...charming, I suppose.”

“You’d like him,” Cash said before pausing to laugh. “...I think. His cousin I think you’d definitely like. In fact, I’m having a friend from Paris in next week to host a tasting, and Mor will be there. You should come and meet her.”

Nesta’s heart leapt at the opportunity. She loved getting dressed and going out, and she was in rather desperate need of female friends. Still, there was Tomás to consider.

“I know that look,” Cash said. “So let me beat you to the punch: you can bring your boyfriend, and whoever else you want.”

“Elain would love it,” Nesta said, not wanting to admit that Tomás wouldn’t, especially when he saw Cash.

Still, she was reasonably confident she could convince him.

“Maybe I’ll tell her to bring Graysen, and your friend can embarrass him in front of everyone.”

Cash shook his head, giving a resigned chuckle.

“You are terrible.”

Nesta admired her long nails self-importantly.

“Please, you love it.”

She immediately regretted saying it. She wasn’t oblivious to the way Cash sometimes looked at her, and she didn’t want to blur any lines by being over-flirtatious. It wasn’t fair to him, and it definitely wasn’t fair to Tomás. And if he ever found out she’d been saying things like that to another guy behind his back, he’d never let her step foot in the Merchant again.

“I admit I’m morbidly curious about this guy,” Cash admitted. “Though I don’t want your sister to hate me for humiliating her boyfriend.”

“She’ll love you,” Nesta blurted, and realizing her misstep, forced herself to add, “maybe I’ll set you two up once she gives Graysen the boot.”

The idea made her stomach roil, especially when Cash smirked.

“First you accuse me of philandering, and now you want to set me up with your precious baby sitter? Pick a lane, Archeron.”

Nesta shrugged mechanically.

“At least I’d know she was being treated the way she deserves.”

Cash laughed, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back on the bar.

“I don’t want to date your sister, Nes.”

Nesta ignored the way something in her black heart fluttered at the declaration, pursing her lips in feigned annoyance instead.

“Why not? Gorgeous and brilliant aren’t your type?”

Cash laughed.

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that gorgeous and brilliant are every guy’s type.”

“So what’s the problem?”

Nesta had no idea why she was pushing the issue. She had less than zero desire to see Cash pursue Elain.

Cash only laughed again, an edge of exasperation souring the otherwise rich sound.

“Maybe I’m too afraid of you. I can only imagine what kind of cruel and unusual torture you’d cook up for me if things didn’t work out.”

“I’d flay and barbecue you at a low heat,” Nesta affirmed, and Cash grinned, his expression easing slightly.

“Exactly. Besides,” he paused, eyes glittering from behind his frames as he studied her again. “I wouldn’t want to risking messing up our friendship.”

She sniffed to disguise the way that touched her.

“Bold of you to assume we’re friends. We hardly know each other.”

“I know you better than you think, my thorny Slytherin queen. And we are friends, so don’t be like that.”

“Fine,” she said. “I admit I find your company enjoyable in an...annoying sort of way.”

“Please,” Cash said, grinning. “You love it.”

“Don’t push it,” she warned, and he only grinned wider.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. So about next weekend: are you in? I’m trying to firm up the guest list for my friend Hélion.”

Nesta felt her cheeks warming as she admitted, “I...have to discuss it with Tomás. He’s been out of town.”

Cash looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he said, “Well if you do decide to come, I have only one request—“

“That I don’t bring my friend Claire,” Nesta finished for him, and he laughed.

“She was in again last week and left me her number on a receipt. I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Call her?” Nesta made herself suggest.

Cash frowned.

“I told you: not my type. Everything I said, she agreed with. I don’t want a woman who only ever tells me what she thinks I want to hear.”

Nesta couldn’t help herself.

“What do you want, then?”

Cash sank his teeth into his plush lower lip as if he were trying to suppress a smile before finally glancing at her.

“Someone who’s quick on the draw, and who isn’t afraid to dish it back. I don’t want a admirer; I want an equal. Besides,” he paused, biting his lip again. “I prefer brunettes.”

Nesta felt her heart beating in her throat as he studied her—her dark hair—before meeting her gaze again.

“If you know anyone like that, then...”

“I don’t,” Nesta said automatically before adding, “sorry.”

Cash continued watching her for a second before shrugging.

“Being single isn’t all bad.”

“I wouldn’t really know,” Nesta admitted in a soft voice. “It’s been a while.”

Cash nodded, adjusting his frames as he looked down into his glass.

“How long have you two been together?”

“Six years.”

“That’s—a long time.”

“It is,” she agreed, wishing they could change the subject.

“No ring yet?”

Her eyes snapped up, he shook his head.

“Sorry. None of my business.”

She thought about biting out that no, it most certainly wasn’t, before realizing she didn’t want to sour things with an unduly harsh retort. Instead she shrugged.

“If he had his way, we’d be married already. I’m the one who’s insisted on waiting.”

“Why?”

She didn’t know why she answered. She knew she really shouldn’t, but somehow she couldn’t help herself. Cash was so easy to talk to, and the fact he didn’t know Tomás personally somehow made it feel like less of a violation of their privacy.

“We’ve been through a lot together, but I don’t know—I’m not ready. I guess I’m just waiting for a sign to show me that I am.”

“Didn’t have you down as a person who believed in signs,” Cash admitted.

Nesta fidgeted in her seat, looking down at her bare left hand.

“I’m not usually. But this is...too important not to be completely sure.”

Cash nodded but didn’t push for clarification, even though she could tell he wanted to.

“I’m happy, though,” Nesta added, needing to hear herself say it out loud. “He makes me very happy.”

Cash gave her a smile that was warm, even if it didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“You deserve that,” he said.

“How would you know?”

At this Cash’s smile widened to show pearly teeth.

“Because I’m an excellent judge of character. Besides, doesn’t everyone deserve that? Someone who makes them happy?”

“You do,” she blurted, and her cheeks caught fire as she realized she’d said it out loud.

She’d clearly drank more champagne than she’d thought; she was being embarrassingly loosed-lipped. Cash only smiled again, politely ignoring her insidious blush.

“You think?”

“Per your logic, everyone does,” she pointed out, drumming her nails on the oak bar top. When he dimmed a bit, she softened.

“But yes, I think you deserve it more than most.”

Cash gave a sheepish laugh as he looked down at the scuffed chukka boots her wore, and Nesta found herself adding, “She’s a lucky girl, Cash. The woman you end up with.”

It was truer than he even knew, and harder to bear than she’d expected. She had a sudden image of Cash in the arms of some unknown brunette beauty, and she felt her hands curling to fists.

She was on dangerous ground, and she knew it. She couldn’t figure out for the life of her why she hadn’t retreated to safer territory yet.

“I should get home,” she said, draining her glass. “Thank you for celebrating with me.”

He grinned.

“Thank you for an excuse to drink champagne on a Tuesday. And before you embarrass us both by trying to pay for this bottle, let me make a proposition instead.”

Nesta huffed and made to protest, but he cut her off.

“You know it’s nothing like that, so don’t get shirty with me. Just—come next Saturday. Tastings go much easier when there are people there who know what they’re looking for in a good wine, and I promised Leo I would give him something to work with. He’s French, so he gets fussy like that. And if you come, I can just put the bottle on his company’s tab. He works for one of the biggest distributors in France, so they won’t mind.”

“How long have you been cooking this scheme up?” She asked, and he grinned.

“Since about the word ‘celebrating’. Do we have a deal?”

He even extended a hand, and she bit her lip as she considered.

“I still have to talk it over with Tomás. But yes, I will—tentatively be there.”

She slipped her hand into his, and he squeezed gently as his smile returned.

“But you have to let me pay for the bottle if I don’t end up making it.”

Cash rolled his eyes.

“I’ll add it to your tab, I promise.”

“Fair enough,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll will let you know on Tuesday when Tomás gets back into town.”

Cash laughed, though the sound was a bit hollow.

“How? You don’t have my number.”

Nesta bit her lip, resisting the urge to shift on her feet. She and Tomás had given each other permission into their respective phones, and though it wasn’t a privilege he often exercised, she knew that if he did and saw Cash’s number, he’d freak. It would certainly be the end to their coming to the tasting.

“I’ll—call the shop.”

All the playfulness melted from Cash’s expression as his mouth tightened.

“Are you serious, Nes?”

“What does it matter?” She shot back, needing to go on the defensive. “You’re always here anyways.”

“That’s not what concerns me.”

“I don’t know what you’re even talking about.”

He crossed his bruising arms across his chest, his tone brittle in a way that belied he usual ease.

“Oh really? Then look me in the eye and tell me that—as your friend—I have nothing to be concerned about.”

“Goodbye, Cassian,” she said. “I’ll be in touch.”

She turned to the door and heard him swear under his breath.

“Nesta.“

She tightened her grip on the leather strap of her handbag, fighting the urge to turn back to him as she left the shop.

————————————————-

“What’s going on with you?” Hélion asked from where he lounged on the sofa, watching as Cash straightened the collar of a fresh button-down in the mirror.

They were currently in in the apartment above the shop, which Devlon had bought when such things were still possible to afford in North Beach. He’d agreed to let Cash stay there while he was in Hawaii, provided Cash didn’t change anything.

So far, he’d had the place painted, replaced the dated backsplash in the kitchen, and bought a new couch. A contractor was coming the following week to talk about taking down a wall in the living room and gutting the master bath.

“What do you mean?” Cash said, shrugging into the burgundy blazer slung over a nearby armchair.

Hélion eyed him critically for another moment.

“That’s the third time you’ve changed your shirt.”

Hélion continued his brazen assessment before snapping his fingers in realization.

“There’s someone coming you want to impress. Who is it? Investor for your mythical vineyard?”

Cash cleared his throat.

“No, I’m—still working on that.”

Hélion smirked.

“Ah, okay. Who is she, then?”

Cash fought not to tense. This wasn’t a conversation he really wanted to have right now. Despite the voicemail he’d gotten from Nesta on Thursday at the shop informing him she’d be coming with two guests, he was terrified to get his hopes up knowing it was still entirely possible she wouldn’t show.

“Who is who?”

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“The woman you’re clearly trying to impress. And if you don’t tell me, know that I can get it out of Mor when she arrives.”

Cash felt his palms beginning to sweat.

“It’s—not like that.”

Hélion smirked.

“No? Certainly seems like ‘that’ to me.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend.”

“A boyfriend isn’t a husband, Cashish,” Hélion said in a coo. “Besides, who could resist all this devilish charm?”

“Don’t make it weird,” Cash warned.

“Me?” Hélion said in mock offront. “Never! Come on, tell me more about her. She must be something if she’s caught your picky eye.”

“I’m not—“ Cash shook his head. “We’re just friends.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “You like her. You’re smitten, I can tell. What’s her name?”

“I’m not telling you.”

“What? Why not? I only want to know who I need to charm tonight. I will help make her yours.”

“For fuck’s sake, Leo,” Cash said, unsure whether to be exasperated or warmed by his friend’s meddling. “She’s bringing her boyfriend.”

Hélion bubbled his lips and gave a dismissive flick of his wrist.

“I hate him already. He’s a swine! A wretch! Totally unworthy of her!”

“I actually think he might be,” Cash admitted, and at his tone Hélion straightened, setting down his glass.

“What do you mean?”

Cash blew out a breath, trying to keep his anger in check as he remembered the look on Nesta’s face when he’d suggested she take his number. Normally he might have taken it as a sign that she was more interested in him than she let on, but it hadn’t been guilt he’d seen in her eyes; it’d been fear.

“Allô!” Hélion said, snapping his fingers to get Cash’s attention again. “What does that mean?”

“He’s totally controlling; demanding to know where she is all the time, I think going through her phone—I don’t know, it just doesn’t feel right to me.”

“Have you met him?”

“No,” Cash admitted. “But Dev has, and he said the same. He said that he’s very territorial over Nesta, and that I should keep my distance.”

“Nesta,” Hélion said with a satisfied smirk. “That’s very pretty.”

Cash flipped him a foul hand gesture before turning back to the mirror. He sighed before continuing.

“I don’t know what it is about her, but I can’t get her out of my head. And it would be bad enough knowing she’s got a boyfriend, but this prick—“ Cash shook his head. “I hate thinking of her in a bad relationship.”

“Maybe she just needs someone to show her there’s a better way,” Hélion said, and Cash huffed.

“Don’t tease me. This sucks enough as-is.”

“Non,” Hélion said. “No teasing. She clearly likes you, Cash, or else she wouldn’t be coming tonight.”

“She’s coming with him.”

“Then she must like you very much, to risk upsetting him just to see you.”

“I don’t want to put her in a bad spot.”

“But...?” Hélion prompted.

“But what?”

“But you do want her.”

Cash groaned, slumping down on the arm of the sofa.

“How could I not? She’s brilliant, and thoughtful, and witty. And God—so fucking gorgeous. She might honestly be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

Hélion gave an amused snort.

“The man’s in love.”

“I’m not in love,” Cash protested before pausing. “And it doesn’t matter, anyway. She’s got her sod of a boyfriend, and I just got her to admit we’re friends; I can’t mess things up.”

“Okay,” Hélion said, holding up his hands in submission. “I won’t say anything to her.”

Cash let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

“Thank you.”

“But say the word, and I will seduce the boyfriend and clear the path for you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Cash muttered, and Hélion smirked.

“So far as I know, you’re the only man who’s been able to successfully to resist me, straight or otherwise.”

“Az,” Cash pointed out, turning to the mirror to pull his hair back.

Hélion rolled his eyes.

“He’s just being obstinate to spite me.”

“I’ll let him know you’re onto him.”

Hélion smirked and settled back into his seat.

“Can you imagine what he must look like naked?”

“As his friend, I try not to. Shall we?”

Hélion rose, straightening his immaculate heather gray slacks as he did. Cash shook his head.

“I don’t know how you’re wearing that sweater. It’s bloody August.”

Hélion straightened the collar of the turtleneck self-importantly.

“I’m French,” Hélion sniffed. “The laws of nature don’t apply to me.”

“That’s not at all how that works,” Cash pointed out. “But suit yourself.”

They descended the stairs to find the servers Cash had hired readying the place at Mor’s direction. The dining table had been set with the appropriate glasses, and flutes were arranged neatly on trays, waiting for champagne.

“Looks good,” Cash told her in greeting, coming over to kiss her cheek. “Almost good enough to justify flying you all the way out here from London.”

“Please,” Mor said, batting his cheek. “I flew myself out here, you ungrateful plant pot.” She spotted Hélion and shoved Cash back. “Leo, there you are! Come give me a kiss.”

Cash only barely managed to get out of the way as Hélion slid a hand around Mor’s waist and pulled her to him. She draped her arms over his shoulders and pecked him on the lips. Cash only barely managed to fend off a groan of disgust, and Mor only flashed him a quick hand gesture before her eyes settled back into Hélion, who still had a possessive hand pressed to her low back.

“How are you, mon cœur?” She purred, and Hélion gave her an appreciative up-down.

“Better, now you’re here. Oh, and Cash has a woman coming tonight.”

Cash snarled.

“What part of ‘be cool’ did you not understand?”

“You are?” Mor demanded, turning to punch him in the arm. “Who?”

“She’s got a boyfriend,” Cash said, feeling sour for having to repeat it out loud.

“So? Never seen a defender you couldn’t score on. What’s her name?”

“None of your—“

“Nesta.”

Cash screwed his eyes up, rubbing his temple.

“Leo, for fuck’s sake.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Mor asked. “This is so exciting! I haven’t seen you interested in someone in—“ she paused to think. “I honestly can’t remember the last time.”

“She’s got a serious boyfriend,” Cash said, annoyed at having to repeat himself. “And she’s my friend, so please don’t scare her off with your meddling.”

Mor toss her blonde waves off her shoulder.

“I don’t meddle.”

Cash pursed his lips.

“Tell that to Az’s love life.”

“That’s different. Without my help, poor lamb’s going to die alone.”

“I can think of someone I know who could make him feel properly loved up,” Hélion said with a smirk, and Cash rolled his eyes.

“Leave him alone, both of you. Leo, if you want someone to flirt with, go back to London and bother Rhys. He’ll be more than happy to oblige you.”

“Tempting,” Hélion admitted. “But he’ll flirt with anyone. Besides, there’s just something about that pouty mouth of Azriel’s that drives me crazy.”

“Let’s just get the champagne opened,” Cash said, not wanting to discuss his friends’ love lives anymore.

He gestured to the servers, and Hélion glanced at the label of the nearest bottle and frowned.

“Bollinger? I thought we’d agreed on Moët.”

Cash shrugged.

“I changed my mind.”

Hélion narrowed his eyes.

“Fine,” Hélion sniffed. “But no more changes. I made these selections for a reason.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re afraid I’ll pull something something you don’t know, you mean.”

Hélion gave him a dirty look, and Cash laughed.

“I haven’t changed anything else,” he promised.

At this the door chimed, and Cash’s heart rate picked up. Forcing himself not the react in a way his friends might notice, he nodded towards the door.

“Go, minions. Be charming, make people feel welcome.” He grabbed Hélion by the elbow as he made to strut off.

“Not too friendly. This is an elegant tasting, not a live sex show.”

Helion grinned, teeth bright against his dark skin.

“Afraid I’ll meet your Nesta and win her away from you?”

“No, because you lay even one line on her and she’s probably punch your lights out. Get out of here.”

Hélion laughed, clapping Cash in the shoulder even as his eye snagged on fetching red head who was already smiling at him.

Cash found as people trickled in that he was too wound up to mingle, so he busied himself in the back instead, helping pull bottles and making sure the hor d’euorvers looked the way he wanted.

When his phone buzzed, he pulled it out to find a text from Hélion.

Come to the front.

Swearing under his breath, Cash did as a instructed to find Hélion waiting for him at the bar.

“What is it?”

Hélion shrugged.

“Nothing. But you need to be out here. It’s strange for your to lurk in the back like the hunchback in his tower. Have a glass of champagne and relax.”

“I am relaxed.”

“That’s exactly what a tense person would say,” Hélion said. “Go talk to people.”

“I will as soon as—“

He broke off as he watched Hélion eyes skate over his shoulder and light up.

“What?” he demanded.

Helion smiled, eyes flicking back to Cash.

“I think your Nesta just walked in.”

Cash’s throat went dry. His first instinct was to whip around, and he forced himself to relax his posture.

“Merde, you weren’t joking,” Hélion said, gaze going over Cash’s shoulder. “She’s—fetching. Who’s the woman with her?”

“Her younger sister, I think.”

Hélion’s grin grew sleepy and slightly wicked, and Cash shook his head.

“Nesta will flay you alive.”

Hélion only shrugged before looking back and cocking his head slightly.

“C'est intéressant...” he mused, tapping his fingers against his lips in mock bemusement.

Cash grit his teeth.

“What’s interesting?”

Hélion’s smile was a feral thing, one that reminded Cash of a fox.

“I don’t see a gentleman with her,” Hélion finished.

Unable to resist any longer, Cash turned, his pulse drumming a lulling beat in his belly as he drank Nesta in.

She was dressed more provocatively then he’d ever seen her, and it made his mouth dry as he took her in. The slinky navy cocktail dress she wore hung off her body as if it had been made for her, highlighting her gorgeous small breasts and lean legs.

She’s yet to see him, but his heart sped up as the woman next to her, who was undoubtedly Elain, turned her head in his direction. Elain gave him a delightfully unsubtle up-down before she leaned over to whisper in her sister’s ear.

Something warm began to pool in Cash stomach as Nesta’s gaze snapped to him and she flushed.

He smiled in greeting, feeling pleased when she took Elain’s hand and started towards him.

“Go away,” Cash hissed to Hélion.

“But—“

“I’ll introduce you later. Buzz off.”

Hélion huffed before retreating, and Cash fought not to fidget or look too eager as Nesta approached. She dark hair fell in a satiny curtain down her back, and he imagined bunching it is hands as he kissed her neck, peeling off that dress so he could...

“Cash, hi.”

He flashed what he hoped as an easy smile. He wanted to kiss her cheek the way he might have with someone like Mor, but given everything, he doubted she’d appreciate it.

“Nesta,” he said, taking in the hint of her cool, sharp perfume as she came closer. “Glad you could make it.”

She smiled, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. He admired the elegant line of her wrist as she did, marveling that wrists could even be attractive. Hers were, though. They were gorgeous.

“Thank you for inviting us.”

At this she put a hand on her sister’s back.

“This is my sister, Elain. Ellie, this is my friend Cassian.”

Hearing her said the word “friend” had giddy delight crashing through him, and he forced himself to look at Elain instead.

She gave him a bright, easy smile, and he immediately liked her.

“Lovely to finally meet you, Cassian,” she said as they shook hands

“Cash, please. Honestly, I feel like I know you already. Nesta’s always bragging about you.”

Elain gave a sheepish laugh, doe brown eyes sparkling. Like her sister, Elain was beautiful, though hers was a much softer, more angelic thing: the fresh-faced Disney heroine to Nesta sultry villainess. She was of a curvier build as well, her figure voluptuous where Nesta’s was willowy.

If Az was here, he’d be drooling all over the floor. He was a sucker for big tits and brown eyes, even if he was too much of a gentleman to ever admit as much out loud.

“Well that’s embarrassing,” Elain said. “It’s not like I’m going to cure cancer or something.”

“No it’s not,” Nesta said. “You deserve it. You’re brilliant, El.”

Elain blushed before turning back to Cash.

“I’ve heard a lot of nice things about you, too.” Elain continued. “It’s good to put a name to the face.”

Cash grinned at Nesta, whose mouth has pinched into a pert frown.

“You been bragging about me too, Archeron?”

Nesta sniffed in a way Cash now knew signified she’d been caught off balance.

“Hardly. It’s Claire who can’t shut up about you.”

Elain gave a delicate laugh.

“It’s true,” she admitted. “I think she’s got a crush on you. She still hasn’t stopped talking about that red Nesta served at her dinner party. No one could; did Nes tell you?”

Cash laughed when Nesta rolled her eyes.

“Your sister isn’t in the habit of giving me compliments, unfortunately. But thank you, it’s nice to know you liked it.”

“I loved it,”Elain corrected. “You should come to the next party and listen to everyone fawn yourself.”

Cash glanced to Nesta to gauge her reaction, afraid to find her expression disapproving. She wore a sardonic smile instead.

“Before you say yes, please keep in mind that Claire will be there, and there won’t be a bar or a stock room to shield you from her attentions.”

Cash grinned.

“You’re not going to protect my virtue?”

Nesta pursed her lips to hide a smirk.

“As if there’s any left to protect.”

“I will,” Elain assured him, grinning as she touched his arm. “We’ve known Claire for ages, but she can get a little—predatory.”

“Yes, a scrawny thing like you, who knows what she might do if she caught you alone,” Nesta added dryly.

Cash laughed, and unable to resist showing off a little, he crossed his arms across his chest and said, “Archeron, I’m pretty sure I could bench your weight about five times over.”

“Doubtful,” Nesta shot back, eyes glittering with the challenge. “I weigh over 300 pounds.”

“What a coincidence; I bench 1,500.”

“Well congratulations on setting a world record, then. The last I heard, it was 1,075.”

Elain watched them, a grin on her face before she cut in, “Will you excuse me? I have to use the restroom.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nesta said immediately, and Elain gave her a hard look.

“Don’t need any help, thanks.” She brushed a friendly hand down Cash’s arm. “Nice to meet you again.”

With that she slipped away, leaving them alone.

“She’s cute,” Cash said when she’d gone.

Nesta smiled, eyes softening in a way they only ever did for her sisters.

“Isn’t she?”

They watched in silence as Elain sauntered off before Nesta turned to give him a thorough once-over.

“You look—nice.”

Cash laughed, basking under her careful attention as her eyes swept from his blazer to his caramel dress shoes.

“Do I not usually?”

She flushed before pursing her lips.

“The joggers certainly gave me pause.”

He grinned, wanting to see if he could make her blush again.

“I try to avoid them in mixed company. It’s unfair to the women present. Too distracting.”

She rolled her eyes.

“I managed them just fine.”

“Or so you claim. But you easily could have been checking me out when my back was turned.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Get over yourself. Your ass is not as cute as you clearly think it is.”

He flashed her a smirk, seeing the opportunity her comment presented and finding himself unable to resist.

“And how would you know?”

She flushed, and he felt his belly tighten, even as he grinned.

“Gotcha.”

She rolled her eyes again but didn’t offer a retort, and the realization she had been checking him left him feeling giddy. That was, until he remembered who’d she was supposed to have with her that evening.

“So,” he said. “No Tomás?”

He tried to keep the hopefulness from his tone, unsure if he’d succeeded as Nesta straightened.

“He’s running late. But he’ll be here, don’t worry.”

Cash felt his heart sink.

“I can’t say that I was,” he admitted quietly.

“Was what?” She said, tone flatter than before.

“Worried he’d be here.”

He hated the way her face pinched at that, the light in hey eyes dimming.

“Don’t start, Cash.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

Her expression darkened.

“You didn’t have to. Please, promise me you’ll play nice. I think you two might really hit it off.”

Cash knew he would never like this prick and that the feeling was certain to be mutual, but afraid of pushing her away, he only smiled.

“I’m sure we will. You look lovely, by the way.”

Nesta looked down under the guise of smoothing her skirt, but he suspected it was really to hide another blush. God, she was killing him tonight. He wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “It’s new. I don’t usually like this color, but—“

“It suits you,” he said, and though he wanted to push the issue, he knew he’d gone as far as he’d dared.

Reaching behind her, he grabbed a forgotten tray of champagne, passing her a flute and taking one for himself.

They were silent a moment as they both took a sip, and Nesta nodded in approval.

“Bollinger,” she said. “Should I be flattered?”

He shrugged, sure she was seeing through him.

“I’d forgotten just how good it was until you reminded me. I figured I’d help remind everyone else, too.”

“Good,” she said with a small smile. “I would hate to think you were just trying to impress me again; you know I’m immune to your charm.”

“But you do admit I’m charming,” he said with a grin. “I’ll take it.”

She considered this, eyes sparkling.

“I admit nothing,” she sniffed, taking another sip.

He laughed.

“Of course you don’t. It’s fine, my ego can take it.”

She snorted.

“That I don’t doubt.”

They lapsed into comfortable silence as Nesta turned to survey the room. Cash watched her in profile, admiring the narrow bridge of her nose and the dusting of freckles she’d clearly tried to conceal under her makeup. She was so lovely it made his chest ache.

Knowing he had to stop staring before she caught him, Cash turned to watch the crowd milling around instead.

“So no Graysen either, huh? I’m oddly disappointed.”

Nesta huffed.

“Elain was going to bring him, but they got in a tiff earlier and now they aren’t speaking.”

“Why don’t you seem happier about that?”

“Because this happens all the time. I can’t emotionally invest in the hope they’re actually break up; the disappointment is too bitter. Please just tell me there’s someone here to distract her. What about your friend Azriel? Vanity Fair seems to think he’s single.”

Cash laughed.

“Az is still in LA; he generally avoids mingling with strangers, even for my sake. And my friend Leo was practically foaming at the mouth when she walked in, but I don’t think he’s the kind of guy you want dating your baby sister. He’s something of a...philanderer.”

“I’m not concerned,” Nesta said. “One thing I will say for Elain: she’s not easily wooed. I think she honestly gets hit on so much it doesn’t phase her anymore. Besides, she’s annoyingly loyal to Graysen. Tell your friend to do his worst; he’s not going to win her over.”

“Why do I get the sense that pleases you?”

She flashed him her Disney Villainess smirk again, and he felt his skin prickle in arousal.

“Because it makes me feel like I raised her right; weird blind spot for Graysen aside, Elain knows who she is, and doesn’t let others try and tell her different—especially men.”

“What about Feyre?”

Nesta expression grew more devilish.

“Fey’s more like me. She didn’t need to be taught how to shred men to ribbons. It’s instinct for her, and she’s damn good at it.” Nesta pursed her lips. “I just wish she’d use it a bit more often.”

“She’ll get tired of kissing frogs eventually,” Cash offered. “You remember what it was like at 19.”

“I didn’t date until I was 19.”

Cash smiled.

“What was your first boyfriend like? I’m imagining either a geeky engineering major or an uptight Shakespeare nerd.”

“Neither,” she said, taking another sip of champagne. “He was a gorgeous Portuguese exchange student.”

He chuckled, even if some of his amusement had soured.

“You really have a type, don’t you?”

When she gave him a pointed look, he felt his heart sink.

“Tomás was your first boyfriend?”

It explained a lot. The blind loyalty, the way she seemed to capitulate to him when she didn’t for others.

“Some people are just lucky, I guess.”

“In what way?”

She shrugged.

“To get it right on the first try.”

It hurt—physically hurt—to hear her say it, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from blurting something petulant. Instead he forced himself to shrug.

“I guess I wouldn’t know. My first girlfriend’s name was Becky, and she was the actual worst.”

“The fact she chose to go by Becky didn’t tip you off?”

“Looking back, it was the first of many warning signs.”

Nesta laughed, and Cash felt some of his bitterness fading. They were friends, he reminded himself. She’d claimed him as her friend, and as far as he was concerned, that made him the luckiest guy in the world. Her relationship with Tomás wasn’t any of his business. If she was happy, he’d be happy for her.

Over Nesta’s shoulder, Cash spotted Hélion trying to get his attention by tapping his watch.

“I should probably start getting people settled,” he said. “Do you want us to wait for Tomás?”

Nesta bit her lip. He knew she hated when people did her favors, and he suspected she was embarrassed that it was her boyfriend holding things up.

“It’s fine,” she said quickly. “I’m sure he’ll be here soo—“

The doorbell chimed, and Cash didn’t need to look up to know who it was. He fought down a searing stab of annoyance as Nesta raised her hand in greeting, choosing to glance at his own watch instead.

“Querida,” a smooth voice called. “There you are.”

Cash thought about trying to use the opportunity to make his escape, but he knew Nesta would see that for the cowardice it was and be annoyed he wasn’t playing nice like he’d promised.

Instead he turned, watching the well-dressed man making his way towards them. He was of rather average height and build, Cash noticed with satisfaction, though his face was classically handsome. Between the way his dark hair was pomaded away from his face and the fact he wore no socks in his Armani loafers—despite being dressed in slacks and a blazer—Cash thought he probably worked at a hedge fund.

Of course he did, the little prick.

The minute he was close enough, Tomás caught Nesta by the elbow and hugged her into him for a wanton kiss.

Cash bristled at seeing Nesta stiffen, clearly embarrassed. She should be, he thought sourly. It was like the beginning of a bad porno.

After a second Nesta pulled away, flushing a little as she dabbed at her lips. Tomás kept a proprietary hand on her low back.

“Where’s your phone?” Tomás said in Portuguese, ignoring Cash entirely. “I called you twice.”

“It’s on silent,” Nesta said. “I’m sorry.”

Tomás pursed his lips in unveiled irritation before finally seeming to take note they weren’t alone. Cash felt a grim satisfaction when Tomás had to tilt his chin up to meet Cash’s eye.

“Tomás, this is Cassian. He owns the shop.”

Not friends anymore, Cash noted with disappointment. Acquaintances, if best. The fact she wasn’t willing to admit to any degree of familiarity in front of Tomás was monstrously telling, and it made him hate the asshole even more.

Tomás tossed a casual glance in Cash’s direction, and though his smile was placid, his gaze was cold.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, shifting Nesta in his arms so he could extend a hand.

Cash could tell she was uncomfortable that he hadn’t released her, and he fought the urge to break Tomás’s fingers as they shook hands.

“I suppose I have you to thank for all the exquisite wine I’ve been drinking lately,” Tomás said, smiling down at Nesta before letting his eyes drift back to Cash.

Cash shrugged. If Nesta wanted or needed to downplay their interaction for the sake of her relationship then he’d oblige her.

“I guess. Though Nesta’s got great taste on her own. She doesn’t need my help.”

“She doesn’t need anyone’s help. Right, querida?”

Nesta’s laugh was tinny and hollow as she finally extricated herself from Tomas’s grip until the pretense of looking around.

“I’m going to go find Elain,” she said, leaning over to peck Tomás again. “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” Tomás said, and Cash wanted to punch him for the tone he used, as if he were granting her permission. “Come right back.”

Nesta nodded her agreement and headed off, and though Cash expected Tomás to follow, he stayed, flashing a much cooler look as he took Nesta’s abandoned glass from the bar.

He raised it, and when Cash raised his, Tomás said in Portuguese, his tone light as if he were making an actual toast, “I don’t like you.”

Fucking coward.

Cash only flashed a grim smile, clinking his glass to Tomás’s and replying in English, “I don’t really give a shit.”

Tomás’s oily, self-satisfied smirk curled into a sneer, and Cash found himself bracing his feet a little farther apart on the floor. He guessed they were really doing this, then.

“Stay away from Nesta,” Tomás spit out. “She’s none of your concern.”

“And she’s not your property,” Cash shot back. “So why don’t you try treating her with a little respect?”

“Fuck you.”

Cash let out a bitter laugh.

“Did I strike a nerve?”

“Stay out of our business, bugre.”

Cash took a step in Tomás’s direction, teeth bared.

“What did you just call me?”

It was a slur Cash hadn’t heard since he’d left Brazil, but it wasn’t one he could ever forget. It had gotten him into more than one fight growing up, and even now, it still made some part of him burn.

Tomás had the good sense to take a step back, even as he bared his own teeth.

“Stay away from Nesta,” he said again. “Or I will make you very sorry.”

Cash snarled.

“First you insult me, and now you’re threatening me? Tread lightly, caralho. You don’t want to fuck with me.”

“What’s going on?”

Both men looked up to see Nesta approaching, brows drawn.

“We’re leaving,” Tomás said, reaching for her hand. “Let’s go.”

“Leave? You just got here.”

Nesta spared Cash the briefest glance as Tomás tried to pull her along behind him.

“I have a headache,” Tomás said curtly. “Get your things.”

“I have Elain with me—“

“Give her your keys; she can bring your car home.”

People had begun looking now, and Nesta tugged her hand from Tomás’s, flushing.

“You’re embarrassing me,” she said quietly.

“I have a headache,” he said more forcefully. “Are you expecting me sit here and suffer?”

“No, but—“

“Good, then let’s go.”

Unable to stand by any longer, Cash intervened.

“Nesta—“

“Stay out of this,” Tomás snarled. He turned to Nesta. “Let’s go. Now, please.”

Nesta looked rather helplessly towards Elain, who was trying to make her way over to them.

“I need to—“ she gestured to her sister, and Tomás mouth tightened.

“Do what you need to and let’s go. I’ll be waiting in the car. Two minutes, querida.”

With a final sour look he stormed off, slamming the door as he left.

“Prick,” Cash muttered, and Nesta whirled on him.

He expected her to snap at him, but instead she pursed her lips, looking down at her feet for a moment before glancing back up at him.

“I’m sorry,” she said tightly, and he realized what he’d been interpreting as annoyance was actually her attempting not to cry. “I have to go.”

“No,” Cash said, touching her chin gently to win her gaze back from the floor. “You don’t.”

She brushed him off immediately.

“Yes, I do. Have a nice evening, and please make sure my sister gets home safe.”

“Nesta—“

By now Elain has arrived beside them, and Nesta pulled out her keys and stuffed them into her sister’s hand.

“Don’t drive if you feel like you’ve had to much to drink. I can come get the car tomorrow if need be.”

“I’ll come with you,” Elain offered, but Nesta was already shaking her head.

“No, you stay. Tomás just isn’t feeling well, so I’m going to take him home.”

“For fuck’s said, Nes. You don’t have to do this!”

Nesta flashed Cash a searing look.

“Please don’t make this worse. Ellie, I’ll see you back at the house. Have a good time.”

She brushed a hurried kiss to Elain’s cheek, and before Cash could protest again, she was striding for the door.

“I’m sorry,” he called, and she only raised a hand in salutation before disappearing.

“It’s not your fault,” Elain said from his side. Her voice was quiet but bitter. “It’s always like this. I’m going to try and smooth things over. He’s—less harsh when I’m there.”

Cash could hear his heart beating in his ears, every instinct roaring at him to go to the parking lot and beat Tomás bloody. Nesta might hate him for it, but at least then he’d know she’d be safe.

“Is she going to be alright with him?” He asked Elain, and she pursed her lips.

She knew what he was asking, and she nodded.

“I’ll make sure she is.”

“Will you call me?” He asked, knowing he sounded desperate and not caring. “And let me know everything’s—okay?”

She nodded, handing her his phone so he could enter his number. When he handed it back, she gave her another soft smile, this one edged in a sadness and regret and broke his heart.

“It really was nice meeting you, Cassian. I hope I—see you again sometime. ”

She patted his arm before she too was leaving.

He swore until his breath when they’d both gone, furious and terrified in equal measure. Furious at Tomás for the slur, and for dragging Nesta out like a rag doll, and terrified that despite Elain’s reassurance, something bad might happen to her because of him.

More selfishly than that, he was terrified that he’d never see her again. She’d been lying to Tomás about coming to the Merchant before he even knew Cash existed. Now he’d be watching her even more closely. The thought made him sick, as did his powerlessness to help her.

“What the hell was that?”

Cash turned to find Mor behind him, brows drawn. Hélion, he noted gratefully, had corralled the other attendees and was beginning a speech about the history of the Bollinger and it’s flavor profile.

“Her boyfriend is an abusive prick,” Cash grit out. “And I just lost my cool.”

“Why didn’t you go after her?”

“And make things worse? I’m sure sure she hates me enough already.”

“Are you worried about her? Maybe you should call Ro, have him send over some unis for a wellness check?”

“I thought about it, but her sister said she’d call me. If I don’t hear from her in the next fifteen minutes, I will.”

His and Nesta’s friendship, he feared, was already destroyed. The least he could do now was make sure she’s alright.

“I’m sorry, darling,” Mor breathed, lacing her fingers through his and resting her head on his shoulder. “I can tell you really like her. If it helps, she likes you, too. That’s why her boyfriend hated you so much.”

“It doesn’t. And I don’t think it matters, anyway. I doubt she’ll be back after that.”

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out.

Hi, it’s Elain Archeron. I just got to Nesta’s, and Tomás is gone already. Guess his “headache” worse than we thought.

Cash let out a breath.

I’m glad. Please tell her—

He paused. Tell her what? That despite the fact he hardly knew her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her? That hearing her laugh was like hearing the voice of God, and seeing her with Tomás had been like a knife to the gut?

He backspaced before trying again.

Thanks for letting me know. xx

Elain’s response came at once.

Thank you for caring about her. She deserves that. ❤️

Cash blew out a breath as he read it, something tightening in his chest.

“How can I help?” Mor asked.

Cash straightened his blazer, forcing a broad smile as Hélion introduced him and he waved.

“Scout the talent,” he said, scanning the bevy of beautiful, eligible women who were now smiling in his direction. “I need someone to make me forget, at least for tonight.”

“Forget what? Her, or the fight?”

Cash sighed.

“All of it.”

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#nessian #nessian modern au #nesta x cassian #nessian angst #nessian smut #in vino veritas #featherywrites

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aworldoffandoms · 5 years

Text

In The Land Down Under

Author's Note: Okay, so I got an ask from @ritachacha asking me to write a short fic about what would happen if Liam and Riley went on a diplomatic trip to Australia. Considering she and I are Australian -- I jumped at the chance to write a fic about our country. It’s fun lol. Thank you so much, Rita for all your help! It means a lot. Hope you and the rest enjoy it!

Tagging some fellow aussies who might enjoy this: @cynicalworlds @pb-boeboe @the-everlasting-dream @topsyturvy-dream @shreyamistrys

I’m also using my tag list I use for my story ‘Runaway’ so I hope that you guys like this but please let me know if you’d like to just be notified about ‘Runaway’ or if you’d like to be tagged in any other fics I might post :)

Pairing: Liam x MC [Riley]

Word Count: 3, 779 (oops)

Rating: T

Warnings: Nothing -- just some (hopefully funny) Aussie jokes

Summary: Liam and Riley enjoy their time while on a trip to Australia. What will they get up to?

Tag list: @hopefulmoonobject @annekebbphotography @am-i-invisible777 @blznbaby @khakie4 @lauradowning29 @blackcoffee85 @captain-kingliamsqueen @moneyfordiamonds @super-secret-fandom-blog @jovialyouthmusic @zaffrenotes @ao719 @umccall71 @carabeth @furiousherringoperatortoad @pixieferry @pixelpenny @rainbowsinthestorm @dcbbw @thecordoniandiaries

The clouds parted and the royal jet descended towards its destination. A jolt of excitement raced through Riley as she caught a glance of the Sydney skyline: the famous Sydney Harbour Bridge and Opera House standing tall against the glittering blue of the ocean.

Riley clapped her hands in overzealous joy. "I can't believe we’re here, Liam! I've wanted to visit Australia for so long! I can't wait to see everything - climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge, see the Opera House, go on a ferry ride...oh! We have to go to Taronga Zoo!"

Liam couldn't help but smile at his wife's childlike glee and her plans for the next two weeks while on their diplomatic trip to Australia. Riley liked to believe it was a holiday, but it was also a chance to talk trade and other endeavours with the governing power of the country.

The Prime Minister of Australia officially invited them at the start of the year and the King and Queen of Cordonia finally had a break in their busy schedules to allow an overseas trip.

Liam rested a calming hand on Riley's arm and she eagerly looked out the window as the plane dipped further towards solid ground.

"Sweetheart, while I admire your enthusiasm for this trip, I must remind you of our original goal in being here. It's important that we cinch deals with this country. It'll be in our best interest."

Realisation poured over Riley like a bucket of cold water. Mirth slowly slipped from her face and in its place was a barely controlled disgusted grimace. The anticipation of coming here was almost snuffed out because of her husband's words. Great. Forgot about that.

The only word that escaped to convey her feelings was an, "Oh."

Liam chuckled at the despondent note in that syllable. "We'll have plenty of time to explore Sydney, my love, but for the next few days, it's official business with Prime Minister Morrison and a few royal engagements. You know as well as I do that Cordonia needs to branch out and connect with other foreign counterparts and Australia is a strong ally to have."

Riley was still glancing out of the window as she nodded, a sigh escaping her. "I know. I was just so excited. It's hard to differentiate between queen and excited wanderlust tourist in times like these."

Twenty-four hours on a plane and I still have to shake hands with random men when I could be enjoying my time on Bondi Beach and ‘chilling’ with the locals.

In anticipation of this trip, Riley had the time to research the country and their customs and memorise some key facts, mind you, most of these facts consisted of things she had learned from movies. She was fascinated with Mick in Crocodile Dundee and couldn’t help but swoon at Hugh Jackman as The Drover in Australia. Damn, that man almost rivalled Liam in looks. Maybe she should get Liam to grow some scruff, although, being a King, a beard would likely raise some eyebrows.

By the time they were ready to leave for the Cordonian International Airport, Riley had compiled a list that ended at three pages long. Maxwell was rightfully impressed when she showed him and he expressed his desire to feed, as he said, a ‘fluffy koala who would be a perfect addition to the menagerie’ at her estate in Valtoria. Riley had laughed but her stomach twisted when she read up and realised that they were a vulnerable species and it was illegal to own one anywhere. That made Maxwell deflate although within minutes he had emailed her a follow-up list requesting emus, dingoes, wombats and kangaroos.

Riley scanned her own list. Some facts surprised her while others she thought were a no-brainer. For instance, Australians used slang for nearly everything so a simple word like 'afternoon' was more accepted as 'arvo' and it was definitely not a shrimp but a prawn and they did not put them on a barbie for those wrongly informed individuals. And contrary to popular belief, animals in this country would not kill you. Although, Riley had made a note to steer clear of forests. Drop bears seemed to be plausible.

Liam laughed as he leaned over to press a kiss to her cheek. "I know, Riley. We'll have all of next week to explore."

The royal jet finally landed as the plane whurred to a stop and the engines disengaged. The door separating the back of the plane to the royal couple's seats slid open and Bastien stepped through.

Bastien bowed once he reached them. "Good morning, Your Majesties. I have received word from the Cordonian ambassador that you'll be escorted to the Cordonian embassy as soon as possible. However, before that, you'll be having a photocall with the Prime Minister and Mayor of Sydney."

Liam nodded at Bastien, heaving a quiet sigh. Royal duties never stopped for the lives of monarchs. Liam had half a mind to damn trade talks and alliances to hell and join Riley in her obvious zest to see Sydney's wonders, yet, he knew, that could not come to pass. Cordonia needed all the allies it could gather and Australia could be beneficial for Cordonia's growth and strength as a nation.

Liam glanced over to Riley and found her gnawing at her bottom lip, her fingers drumming against the armrest of her seat.

He reached over and gathered her hand, twining his fingers with hers as she glanced up at the contact. He pressed his lips to her knuckles and gave her a wink.

“You’ll be fine, Riley,” Liam said, naturally understanding her nerves. They’d been married a year and it still surprised her how easily he read her. All those years of body language lessons had paid off.

She gave her husband a nod as she tightened her hold on his arm and followed him out of the plane and into the awaiting fanfare.

****

“Oh my gooosh...look! Look it’s a kangaroo! And a dingo! Is that an emu over there? If Maxwell was here, he’d be freaking!”

The week of trade deals and diplomacy were over for the royals and they now had the all-clear to travel and explore one of Australia’s most famous cities. Currently, they were at Sydney’s Taronga Zoo and being guided through a section of the park that housed Australia’s more famous land creatures.

Liam’s heart swelled as he stared at his wife, his grin spreading when he saw her bouncing on the tips of her toes like an over-excited school girl, her finger pointing to the kangaroo hopping over to them and a dingo perched on a rock face watching them with curious eyes.

“Would you like to feed him, ma’am?” A zookeeper handed over some fresh carrot for the king and queen to take.

Riley squealed at the suggestion. “Would I ever!”

The Zookeeper smiled at her obvious delight and lead her over to a fairly placid looking kangaroo, his kaki fur soft to the touch. It surprised Liam how friendly some of these animals were. It was almost as if this was a daily occurrence for them and considering how popular this zoo was, he thought he was right in his assumption.

“Love, don’t be so loud. You don’t want to scare the poor creature away.”

Riley rolled her eyes at her husband but her smile was still blinding as she turned back to the keeper. In her enthusiasm, she almost snatched the carrots from her fingers.

As she approached the kangaroo, the large mammal quirked its head to the side as if contemplating if it should approach the beaming human nearly skipping over to it.

“Now, Your Majesty, you want to approach the roo as calmly as possible. Although they are friendly, any sudden movements can frighten them and you don’t want one of their claws to snatch 'ya. They'd tear you to shreds.”

Riley faltered at those words, a flash of worry marring her face. The zookeeper saw her hesitance and chucked good-naturedly.

"Not to worry, Your Majesty. These roo’s are more likely to engage in a harmless game of tag with the food than they are to attack. They've had a lot of experience with people."

A barely heard sigh of relief escaped the Queen as she approached the kangaroo. She held out her hand, palm flat, and guided the vegetable to the kangaroo. Riley's eyes widened in joy as she watched the native Australian mammal sniff her hand and gently grab the offering with its claws and nibble it.

Riley stood there, staring, long after the kangaroo has finished, her eyes darting to the enclosure around her.

“This is so cool. Why haven’t we visited sooner?”

Liam chuckled and wrapped an arm around Riley’s waist, pressing a kiss against her temple. “I don’t know, my love. But if seeing all this makes you happy then I must make this venture to Australia more often.”

Riley gave her husband a smirk. “Don’t you mean, ‘The Land Down Under?’”

The last syllable was exaggerated to the point of it being comical as Riley attempted the Australian accent, emphasising the last syllable of ‘under’ so it ended more in as ‘unduh’, yet she failed spectacularly. Liam laughed at her attempt. It was endearing.

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say the Australian lifestyle is catching up with you.”

Riley shrugged. “What can I say. This country is fascinating. Their accents too. Whew,” Riley paused to fan herself, pretending to swoon. “Have you heard their accents yet? Hot.”

Liam frowned. “I thought you liked mine?”

Riley laughed, stepping away from him and following in the footsteps of the zookeeper who was taking them to the koala enclosure. “Oh, maybe so, but have you heard the way they say, ‘G-day'? That’s my kind of greeting.”

Liam gave Riley a half-mocking serious look and then his mouth lifted, his eyes glinting in mischief, "If it'd suit you...I can greet you in a way that has proven very popular in the past."

Riley had the good sense to stop and stare at Liam for a minute before giving him a mischievous smirk of her own, ending with a wink for good measure. “Nope. I think I’d rather leave Hugh Jackman to do that for me.”

***

"Can we please go to Bondi now?"

Liam nodded at his wife while trying to finish up his conversation with Olivia who had decided to call while they both were enjoying their morning tangled together between the sheets of their beachfront hotel suite.

Apparently, decisions on the Cordonian Golf Tournament couldn’t wait until next week when both the King and Queen would arrive back, yet Olivia felt it necessary because ‘Neville would surely make it a point to prattle on about how important it was because of its location on Cormery Isle’ and Olivia couldn't stand his voice as she was threatening to stab him in the leg.

Liam advised her that would not be wise and to go ahead with the finishing touches of the marketing and contracts for vendors and finalise the competitors who were scheduled to play.

“Liam! Come on! Bondi can’t wait any longer!” Riley’s voice was loud in his ear as he said his final goodbyes to Olivia and told her to he’d see her next week.

He hung up and glanced over to where his wife was standing and his jaw nearly dropped at what he was seeing.

The swimsuit she had on hugged her curves and revealed her cleavage in a tasteful yet sexy way and the elegant cut-outs at the side of the material made her become exceptionally beautiful than she already was. She was one voluptuous woman and Liam could not take his eyes off her.

Riley glanced up and found Liam’s gaze a little bit south of where it was meant to be. “Hey. Liam. My face is here. You’ve seen these,” she waved to her chest area for emphasis, “...far more times than I can count so I’d get that look off your face. No surprises here.”

At her words, Liam’s jaw snapped shut and he shook his head, grinning at Riley’s words. She was right, of course. Some days he had free reign to worship every spectacular inch of her body and he could spend hours upon hours doing it and she’d gladly let him, yet, now was not the time.

Riley wanted to go to Bondi and so they would go to the beach she so desperately wanted to visit. He could fantasise later.

“Okay. I suppose I can wait till later to appreciate the gift of your body but I suppose we should go to this so-called ‘Bondi’ you are so fond of. I wouldn’t want to make you unhappy.”

Riley jumped up and down, clapping her hands in excitement. “Yay! Hurry! I want to see the lifeguards!”

She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she went to the balcony of their suite and looked over to the not too distant horizon to see the white sandy beach that was a notorious spot for people of all ages and ethnicity.

Riley couldn’t help the spring in her step as she stared at the beach that she would soon be visiting, plucking the list of the activities she wanted to do while here and ticked Bondi Beach off her list. The edges of the paper were tattered now from the constant opening and closing of the parchment yet it was still stable enough for her to still be able to cart it around with her.

Riley smiled as she ticked it off and glanced up finding the temperate at a hot 28 degrees already and it was just before 11:30 in the morning.

Jeez. New York can get hot but the Australian sun is murder.

She felt a bead of sweat already gathering at the nape of her neck. As she gathered her stuff that was needed for the beach she called over her shoulder to her husband in the bathroom.

“Don’t forget your thongs, Liam!”

Riley couldn’t help but jump at the voice that bellowed through the door. “Don’t forget what?!”

Liam opened the door and gave his wife an incredulous stare, shocked at hearing the words that came out of her mouth. Surely, she wouldn’t subject him to that kind of humiliation. Yes, he was all for a bit of roleplay now and then but...in public? He was a king. He could not and will not subject himself to that.

“My love, you know that I adore your quirks and your enthusiasm in certain aspects of our travels. And it surprises me even now that some of the words you say still perplex me, after all this time together, but if you subject me to wearing a thong -- I will call Bastien and arrange for the royal jet to take us home to Cordonia immediately.”

Riley stared at her husband in muted silence, her lips quirking up into a smile hearing the words coming out of his mouth. The laugh that had started to bubble up in her throat burst forth after Liam lapsed into silence.

Riley was laughing so hard that she had doubled over, her arms clutching her chest in silent laughter, tears in her eyes. “Oh my...gosh! Liam!” Another burst of rambunctious laughter escaped her and reverberated throughout the suite. Any other time Liam would find her laughter endearing for it was one of his most favourite sounds in the world yet this time he found himself quite irritated at the fact that she was laughing at him. Yes...he was very well aware that she was laughing at him.

Annoyance stirred in his chest and he could not help it seeping into his tone as he said, “Well...by all means laugh at me but I stand by my words, Riley. I will not engage in this sort of behaviour.”

Riley was still laughing as she stood upright, bursts of laughing still spilling out as she made a solid effort to control herself. “Behaviour? What kind of behaviour? Liam--”

She cut herself off and stood up straight, shaking away her mirth as she walked up to Liam and grabbed the swimming trunks that were grasped tightly in his hand at his vexation. She stared up at him with a neutral mask but Liam could see the unsaturated glee behind her eyes. “Honey. I never said anything about a thong. I said, thongs. Plural. These.”

She points to her feet and Liam follows her finger and his eyes widen at seeing what she had on and then his brow furrowed in confusion. “But these are called flip-flops.”

Riley chuckled. “You’d think, right? No. Here they are called thongs. Different use and a very different context here.”

Liam’s eyebrows knitted together as he ran his hand along his jaw, an obvious sign of confused contemplation. “How strange…”

Riley nodded. “Strange indeed but I’ve learned to embrace the strange. I’ve noticed that in the Australian people. They’re more laid back than even I thought I was. It feels freeing to be here than in Cordonia with all those uptight, stuffy nobles.”

Liam lips quirked in a smile. “Yes. Well. I have come to understand why you love seeing new places and I can’t say that I haven’t enjoyed my time here.”

Riley raised her eyebrows at him as she got a pair of thongs for Liam and placed it alongside the beach bag. “Oh, and who was griping at me a week ago at all the trade deals and enquiring about alliances to this country with disdain?”

Liam rolled his eyes. “Yes, but I was simply saying that after a long day of meetings. In the end, Morrison granted us that alliance...did he not?”

He did. Though it was not for a lack of trying for some constituents and other specific requirements for Cordonia to meet with Australia's standards. The Prime Minister asked for a fair amount and Liam, at the end of a very long day and at the end of a very long week decided to grant Morrison his stipulations because not only would it be good for Australia but the added revenue it would bring to Cordonia and its tourism will increase ten-fold. Australia had three times as many citizens as Cordonia and this was an opportunity not to be passed up.

Riley sighed. “Yes, he did but made every opportunity to persuade you to give in at every roadblock that he made. Gosh... that man irked me.”

Liam raised his eyebrows. “And here I thought you said you thought he was a nice ‘bloke’”

Riley grumbled. “Well...I’d rather him be forthcoming and be a little more flexible with his demands rather than railroad my husband into an alliance where we are giving more to them than they are to us.”

Liam’s heart warmed at her care for him and the care that she had for Cordonia, yet, despite her words being right, Liam knew that this was the right thing to do for Cordonia. His country needed all the friends and strength it could get from outside of the realm. Australia was an undeniable force and Liam would be damned if he didn’t take it.

“Morrison might be a bit...direct...but he did make some good points. And we came to an agreement. Now…”

Liam goes over to his wife and wraps his arms around her, pressing a kiss to her neck. “I believe we have someplace to be right now?”

Riley leaned into Liam’s touch and squeezed his forearms that were cinched around her waist. “I believe we do, my king. Get ready to soak up the sun and enjoy all that these Aussies have to offer!”

Liam chuckled and rolled his eyes as his wife left his embrace and grabbed the few last things and waited by the door, bouncing on her toes in her overzealous excitement

“Okay, my love. Let’s see these Aussie locals and the lifeguards you are so desperate to meet.”

“They are called sheila’s and blokes here, Liam. Get it right.”

Liam just chuckled as he followed his wife down the corridor to the elevators to begin their day with sun and sand.

***

“Oh! Can we get this for Hana? She’ll love this! Maybe we could get this for Chance?”

Riley traipsed around an Australian souvenir shop, a spring in her step, as she plucked item after item in their waiting trolley. The knick-knacks she had gathered for their friends included a small plush kangaroo for Hana to add to her collection, a few fridge magnets to adorn their kitchen once they return to the palace, a life-sized koala plush doll for Maxwell, and a few t-shirts for them all. Riley also had a few bottles of Australian whiskey for Drake and a boomerang for Olivia. Riley was sure that a boomerang would come in handy. It wasn’t sharp but it could do some damage to those who wielded it properly. If anything, Riley thought, Olivia would appreciate it. She liked weapons of variety.

Liam watched in admiration at his wife’s constant energy during this whole trip. They were set to leave for Cordonia tomorrow and Riley had suggested a shopping trip. And how could Liam refuse anything his wife desired?

Liam stopped when Riley came to a hat stand, jumping on her feet in excitement as she pulled off an Akubra with strange string hanging from the brim and at the end of said string were corks you’d find in a champagne bottle and it followed around the circumference of the wide-brimmed hat. What in the world…?

A small exclamation of delight escaped her mouth as she admired herself in the mirror. “Liam! Don’t you think this would look good in my hat collection? It’s so unique!”

Liam chuckled as Riley moved her head from side to side, the dangling corks at the end of the string swishing in front of her face. “It certainly looks charming.”

Riley grimaced at his words, turning so that she had her full glower on him, the hat sat firmly on her head, not budging from the quick pivot of her steps to face him. “Charming? You think I just look charming?”

Liam raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms along his chest. “What other words should I have chosen, my love?”

Riley’s grimace transformed into a light-hearted care-free smile. She tipped the hat towards Liam, just like the Drover in Australia as a show of acknowledgement.

“Why, mate! I’m a true-blue Aussie, of course!”

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