misadandan
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we won't eat our words (they don't taste so good) by zoeyclarke
Fandoms: Midsommar (2019)
19 Mar 2020
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Summary
They’re in her tiny apartment bathroom, her sitting on the closed toilet lid and him crouched on the bathmat in front of her. He’s busy cleaning off her knees, picking the sidewalk grit from the scrapes and wiping the crimson streaks from her legs. It’s weirdly intimate, or it should be, but it’s just intimate and not weird at all, really. Dani wonders if it would be out of place to put on a quiet Spotify playlist and maybe stroke his loose hair.
(In which Dani is held before she ever sets foot on Swedish soil.)
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Strawberries in the Garden by MostPreciousTreasures
Fandoms: Emma (2020), Emma - Jane Austen
08 Jun 2020
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The weather was lovely and the party was small enough for comfort - though Mr. Knightley had been talked into extending an invitation to Frank Churchill, which he did begrudgingly. Frank was expected to arrive late and Mr. Knightley was not embarrassed in his hope that he would just never arrive at all. For even with the younger man absent, Mr. Knightley did not feel his jealousy lessen. Just seeing Emma eat a strawberry was enough to set him off into a foul mood. He watched her laugh with Harriet and he wanted to ravish her, right there in the grass.
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Persian apologies mean nothing to Tamina, Princess of Alamut, with her city occupied and its defenders dead. But her duty as a Guardian is clear: first she must find out how much Prince Dastan knows about the Dagger of Time...and then she must kill him.
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A cynical inner voice told him that of course she was flirting; he was wearing an Italian suit and a watch that cost three hundred thousand dollars, give or take. But her profile was silhouetted against the Eiffel Tower and Jacques Brel was playing on the speakers, and so his heart skipped a beat.
Fucking Paris.
Or: One summer night in the City of Love, a drunken wager is turned on its head and Ben Solo makes the biggest mistake of his life.
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Summary
In the end, she has to hand it to him— he'd always been an expert in taking her by surprise, and it would appear that he's chosen not to shake the habit even in death.
"Rey Skywalker?" There's a vaguely sardonic twist to the corner of his mouth. "Does that make you my cousin now?"
"It seemed like a fitting tribute," she says in wooden tones. Be it dream or vision, she might as well play along— draw this out until reality comes crashing back. Who knows when he'll come to her again as solid and as vibrant as this?
"I see." Suddenly he's leaning into her, their faces so close together. "Tell me," he murmurs, his lips almost brushing against hers, "have you ever heard of the term kissing cousins?"
She registers the smell of alcohol on his breath at the same time that his eyes flutter shut and he slumps face-down into her lap, snoring softly. You're alive, is all she can think at first, staring down at his head of lush black hair.
Ben Solo is alive.
Alive and very, very drunk.