#and there is a lot of waxing poetic about grant's name on here and his choice to (eventually) change it | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

loosesodamarble · 1 year ago

Text

A Double Enchanted Tale

Here's my contribution to the Disney crossover event from @vs-redemption.

This is Disney’s Enchanted (with some plot changes) featuring Nacht x Josele (my oc) and Finral x Mallory (@sailor-muno's oc). Cameo from the ZorAcy ship (from @faewraithsworld). And not to worry I'm using my friends' ocs with permission~!

Cast -Josele as Giselle -Nacht as Robert -Finral as Prince Edward -Mallory as Nancy -Sterling as Morgan (Robert’s daughter) -Yuno as Pip the Chipmunk (but a more character appropriate bird here) -Liliane Vaude as Queen Narissa -Alecdora as Nathaniel (the queen’s lackey) -Zora and Acylla as Phoebe and Ethan (the couple that almost gets divorced but doesn't)

Putting this under a cut because it got loooooooooooooong. Lots of little headcanon notes as well as some drabbles for scenes in narrative format (not my best prose writing but I think I would've gone insane trying to do it all in headcanon format).

..........

As with the original film, this story begins with Josele waxing poetic and singing about True Love’s Kiss. She imagines her True Love™ with pitch black hair and sparkling blue eyes.

Yuno, Josele’s little songbird friend, helps put together the statue of Josele’s True Love™.

Josele’s song attracts the attention of a troll. When it tries to take her away, she fights back.

Elsewhere in the forest, Prince Finral is returning from a diplomacy mission in another kingdom, attended by Alecdora, Queen Liliane’s henchman.

Liliane keeps sending Finral away as a foreign ambassador to keep him distracted from romance. So long as he doesn’t find a bride, she can remain on the throne.

Finral isn’t a fighter but he’s always concerned about people who might need help so he rides into the woods, following Josele’s (kinda wretched) screams.

Alecdora attempts to follow but is left behind as he’s without a horse. He can only grumble that Liliane should try to have Finral killed and not just distracted. He’s fed up with the guy too.

Finral is chasing after Josele’s voice. Josele is fighting for her life.

Josele is up in the trees, trying to smack away the troll with tree branches. Yuno is desperately pecking at the troll.

.....

Finral followed the shouts of a woman’s voice through the forest until he happened upon a troll the size of a house, reaching into the trees.

“Leave me alone already!” Finral looked up to where the voice emanated from and saw a lady with brown hair. “There’s no way I’m going anywhere with you!” She had a tree branch held in both hands and used it to smack at the troll’s fingers when it got too close to reaching her. Finral also barely made out the flittering movements of a bird flying at the troll’s hands one in a while.

“Ahem!” Finral forcibly cleared his throat then projected his voice. “Sir Troll! I know I just arrived but it’s clear to me that you’re bothering that lady. She has no interest in you so I suggest you be on your way.”

The troll didn’t look at Finral and instead just grunted and continued to reach up.

Finral groaned but went on, “If you seek the attention of a fair lady, you must do better than this. Attempt a more gentlemanly approach. Give your name and offer a small gift in greeting, like flowers or even a particularly lovely stone.”

Granted, Finral had no clue if those strategies worked. He had always wanted to attend balls and other events in search of his True Love™. But he was so busy helping his mother establish friendly relations with other lands that he never had the time for romantic socialization.

“Love isn’t something you can force. It’s something you build through mutual efforts.”

“Would you be quiet?!” the troll snapped at Finral, finally giving the prince attention.

“Ah… Well…” Finral uttered.

“Or how about you leave?!”

The lady in the trees jumped down and swung her branch down on the spot between the troll’s eyes, the weak spot of those creatures. With a pained roar, the troll held its face and ran off into the woods. Finral wished he’d been able to do more. But he couldn’t not feel glad that the monster was driven away and that the lady in the trees was safe.

Speaking of…

Finral watched the woman land on a lower branch of a tree and lean against the trunk, probably letting out a sigh of relief. He got a better look at her. Brown hair that shined like varnished wood, a fair complexion, and arms that showed more muscle than Finral had ever seen on a woman.

“Excuse me, miss! You’re alright, yes?” Finral called up to the woman.

She turned her face to Finral and his breath was taken away by the beautiful depth of her brown eyes.

“Me?” She gestured to herself. “Yes, I’m oka—”

All of a sudden, her foot slipped and she was falling to the ground. Finral spurred his horse forward. And not a moment too soon as Finral caught the woman in his arms.

For a moment, the two of them stared into each other’s eyes.

“Hello…” the lady whispered, her face now colored a rosy hue. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Prince Finral,” he managed to say despite the tenseness of his throat and the heat in his face. “And you are?”

“Josele.”

“A name that’s as lovely as you are brave.” Finral’s heart thumped in his chest. He’d never had such a reaction to a woman. Did that mean that Josele was… his True Love™? “Would you… marry me?”

“Y-yes! Yes of course!” Josele blurted out, giggles bubbling in her voice.

“Then it’s settled, we’ll be married in the morning!” Finral exclaimed with glee.

As Finral and Josele rode into the sunset, singing refrains that came to them as naturally as breathing, the little bird that had been around earlier watched them leave. The bird was Yuno, Josele’s faithful companion.

“But he doesn’t even look like the True Love™ from your dreams, Josele!” Yuno yelled while flying after them.

.....

In New York City, Nacht and his daughter Sterling are on their way home in a taxi.

Nacht brings up to Sterling that he’s going to propose to his girlfriend, Mallory Demiscura.

Sterling: Her name sounds like an evil stepmother's name. Nacht: That’s not nice to say, Sterling. Mallory is a fine woman. And what’s more, she looks like she could actually be your mother. Sterling: Is that why you’re thinking of marrying her? Nacht: … Maybe.

Sterling frowns at the lame reasoning. It’s so unromantic. She wants her dad to marry someone he loves, not someone to be her mom.

As Sterling pouts and stares out the window, she spots a lady in an elaborate wedding dress climbing up a telephone pole.

Sterling hurries out of the car to investigate and Nacht of course follows.

Sterling: Aren’t you afraid of falling from there, miss? Josele: Not to worry! I’m used to being in high places! Nacht: So she’s a drug addict… Sterling: Or she climbs stuff often. Jeez dad, no need to be judgy. Nacht: Lady, I think you should get down from there! It’s not safe! Josele: Nah, I’ll be fi— (slips and falls) WAH!

Nacht instinctively goes to catch Josele because of course. Nacht is hurt more by the collision than Josele is. Sterling’s jaw drops at how durable and muscular Josele is.

Sterling: How did you get like that, miss? Josele: Get like what? So disheveled and dirty? Heh, well I’ve been wandering around, completely lost, all day. But I’ll be fine, I just need— (wobbles and collapses on top of Nacht again) To rest. Nacht: Uh, well, uh… We can take you in for the night? Sterling: (pumps her fists in victory) We’re bringing a princess home!

.....

Nacht pinched the bridge of his nose after pushing all of the rats, pigeons, and roaches out of the apartment. First a lady climbing in a wedding dress and now a vermin-led housecleaning job. Maybe he was hallucinating. He was pulled from his thoughts by Sterling tugging on his shirt.

“Do we have to wash the dishes again? Because the rats touched them?”

“Use the disposable ones for now. Please,” Nacht groaned.

“Okay.”

After Sterling left his side, Nacht noticed a sing-song voice coming from the bathroom. It had to be Josele. Nacht approached slowly, taking in the sound of Josele’s voice. Admittedly, she had a lovely voice. There was then a pang in Nacht’s heart as he remembered how Morgen used to sing.

Morgen probably would’ve loved a weirdo like her, Nacht thought with a scoff. He couldn’t help but smile though. Nacht stopped in front of the door but before he even knocked, Josele opened the door.

“Good morning,” Josele said with a grin. Such a blithe and innocent look. Like she hadn’t nearly fallen to her death—or at least a broken bone—last night. “You’re looking well, Nacht.”

“Uh…” Nacht glanced down before hurriedly locking eyes with Josele. Holy hell, she is ripped! “Morning. So uh… you…”

“The shower is absolutely lovely,” remarked Josele, glancing back into the room. “I’m used to bathing in rivers but that was a whole new experience!”

“In rivers?” Nacht repeated. Did she grow up in the wilderness or something? “Right. So look, the thing is—”

“Nacht? Who’s that?”

Nacht’s head whipped in the direction of another woman’s voice. Mallory stood a few feet away, jaw dropped and eyes wide in a look of confusion and hurt.

Mallory was there. Seeing Nacht talk with Josele. While Josele was only in a towel.

“Oh hello there! I’m Josele!” She strode up to Mallory without a second thought and began to shake the redhead’s hand. “It’s so nice to meet you! What’s your name?”

“Mallory…”

“Oh that’s a gorgeous name!”

“Thanks?” Mallory pulled back a bit. Her face twisted, looking more horrified by the millisecond. “Uh, what are you doing here?”

“I was on my way to the castle to be married—”

Nacht hurried to the women and stepped between them.

“Mallory, please listen,” Nacht started while holding Mallory’s shoulders and moving her away from Josele. “She and I, we’re not— You have to understand.”

“Understand what, Nacht? That you’ve finally decided that I’m not good enough for you?” Mallory choked out. Tears had already formed in her eyes. “I thought we were just taking it slow because of Sterling and…” Mallory quickly rubbed her eyes. “And we have our careers to worry about too! But I guess the real reason was—!”

“That’s not it at all!”

Mallory pulled away from Nacht and stormed towards the exit. “I’ll go! If she makes you happy, I won’t get in your way!”

“Are you leaving already?” Josele asked, stepping in the way of Mallory’s exit. “But you just arrived.”

The question made Mallory pause. “You don’t want me to leave?”

Josele and Mallory stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. Both seemed confused. And Nacht had to step in.

“Ladies, please, I can explain everything,” Nacht said as he got between them.

“Okay then…” Mallory nodded for a moment then looked Nacht dead in the eyes. “Explain.”

.....

Nacht explains to Mallory the situation with Josele. And she listens.

Mallory is baffled to say the least but considering Josele’s behavior, it seems to be the most believable explanation.

Nacht asks Mallory if Josele could stay with her only for Mallory to say her apartment is getting renovated and she’s already sharing a space with her three sisters.

But Mallory promises to help look for leads about how to get Josele home.

The situation still puts a strain on the relationship since Nacht will be focusing his attention on Josele until she returns to Andalasia.

Mallory is jealous of Josele’s hopeless romanticism and optimism. She was once a romantic herself but lost her spark. She ended up with Nacht because of proximity and convenience.

Nacht takes Josele to his workplace. He hands Josele over to his coworker, Secre, hoping she can help locate Josele’s home.

Meanwhile, Nacht tries to help move along the divorce proceedings for Acylla and Zora. In Nacht’s opinion, they had to split sooner rather than later.

.....

Josele approached Acylla with a wide-eyed, almost awestruck smile.

“Your eyes…” she whispered sweetly. “They’re gorgeous with that little sparkle in them. And your presence is so calm and graceful.”

“I, well…” Acylla flushed at the forward compliments being given to her. “Thank you, miss.”

“The person who holds your heart is a very lucky individual,” Josele commented as she took Acylla’s hands.

And those words made Acylla’s shy grin drop into a deep frown instantly. “He may have held it before but he dropped it like a hot potato.” The words made Josele reel back. Acylla only continued, “And believe me, I doubt he feels lucky to know me at this moment.”

“I don’t understand…” Josele whispered as she shook her head. She glanced at Zora who scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Aren’t you two in love?”

“Read the room, lady,” snapped Zora. “We’re sick of each other.”

Nacht buried his face in his hands and groaned. First his personal life. And now his professional life was being torn asunder by a woman who made a dress out of his curtains before skipping away, without shame or guilt.

When he raised his head, Nacht had every intention of snapping at Josele to keep her nose out of Zora and Acylla’s business. But then he saw them, the tears in her eyes. Soft and real, truly broken up by something most people would brush off as an unfortunate but unextraordinary event. So Nacht ended up pulling Josele aside and quietly letting her know that she didn’t have to worry since the divorce was what the former couple wanted.

“But they’re losing the love of their lives, Nacht,” Josele whimpered as her tears fell. “I can’t imagine loving someone one day and then… not loving them the next…”

“That’s just how the world works,” Nacht said. He almost included an “I’m sorry.” But what did he have to be sorry for?

When Nacht glanced past Josele’s shoulder, he saw Zora staring at Acylla. Not with annoyance as he had been earlier. But rather, he looked curious, as though examining Acylla for the first time. As for Acylla, she was red-faced and avoiding Zora’s eyes.

The air between the two had changed. Nacht didn’t know how but it had…

.....

Mallory is still on her own commute to work. On the way, she spies a man in an elaborate medieval style tunic standing in front of a bus.

Finral: Be still you beast of steel! Those poor civilians in your belly don’t deserve to be eaten! Bus Driver: (honks aggressively) GET OUTTA THE STREET! Mallory: Oh no. That man’s gonna get himself run over. (runs over and grabs Finral out of the street) Finral: Hey hey! Wait wait wait! I was helping those people! Mallory: You were causing a traffic jam! (brushes Finral down because he looks like a mess) You good, man? Finral: I am a good man, yes. Or I’d like to think so. Mallory: Um… Yeah I don’t think you’re doing so hot, sir. (thinking) He does look hot though…

Mallory and Finral get to talking once they get some distance between themselves and the street.

Finral goes on and on about finding his “precious doe” and “other half.” But he doesn’t mention Josele by name.

Still, Mallory gets a weird feeling that Finral’s fairy tale dreamy attitude is familiar…

Alecdora runs up from out of nowhere and grabs Finral away, saying he knows where to find Finral’s love.

“Lead the way, Alecdora!” Finral exclaims as he and Alecdora run off.

“Alec-darrel? What kind of name is that?!” Mallory asks. She tries to chase them for a moment but she’s not fit to keep up.

And then, a little songbird (Yuno), lands on her shoulder and seems to glare at Alecdora.

“What’s your story, little guy?” Mallory asks sarcastically. “I’m actually thinking of chasing after Prince Charming there.”

Yuno chirps aggressively at Mallory and directs her to follow Finral. So she does!

At some point, Alecdora makes his first attempt to kill Josele with a poison apple provided by Liliane. Only to fail.

.....

“That’s how you know~!”

Josele’s melodious voice rang through the air.

“That’s how you know~!”

Came the harmonious echo of what felt like half of New York City, somehow knowing the song that Josele had begun.

Nacht had thought he was dreaming. Honestly, he’d thought that since he first met Josele. Yet sitting in an open carriage as everyone from street musicians to newlyweds performed in Central Park felt strangely real. Every smile on the people’s faces was wide and genuine. The clouds from the morning had parted and the afternoon sun made the colors around Nacht brighter.

And the brightest person there was Josele.

The song and dance had concluded. But people were lingering, mingling amongst themselves or approaching Josele as she stood within the carriage with Nacht.

Nacht blinked a few more times. But he couldn’t take his eyes off of Josele as she spoke with the people who complimented her song or thanked her for the experience. And she replied with a “no, thank you for joining” and such.

How did she manage to be so kind and genuine? Okay, Nacht knew why: fairy tale princess turned real. The question still lingered in his mind. He wondered if the kind of magic Josele exuded was something everyone had a little of, and that’s what made everything happen.

.....

With Mallory, she’s caught up with Finral who is separated from Alecdora thankfully. As they’re walking, she tries to get across that she knows where Finral’s “other half” is.

As she tries to explain, she gets a text from one of her sisters.

[Is he cheating?] The question is accompanied by a picture of Nacht and Josele, sitting in a carriage and surrounded by… a lot. [Check social media. They’re there.]

Mallory looks up what’s trending and finds pictures and videos of some chaotic flash mob. With Josele and Nacht seeming to lead it.

The doubt in Mallory’s heart starts to come back. She and Nacht had never done anything like dance or sing together, especially not in public. And yet with Josele…

.....

“Is something the matter, Miss Mallory?” Finral asked gently, breaking Mallory out of her gloom.

“Oh! Uh…” Mallory slid her phone into her purse, making her chest tight with guilt at hiding Josele’s location from Finral. But perhaps their reunion could wait an hour or two? “I’m… fine?” She shook her head. “It’s just that the man I love…” The words felt so heavy in her mouth that she trailed off and had to take a breath. “He’s not all that good at being loving.”

Finral blinked then stared wide-eyed at Mallory. “But how can that be? A fine woman such as yourself is surely easy to love. Why, I can already name several things that make you splendid!”

“L-like what?”

“Well for one, your hair! It’s the loveliest shade of red I’ve ever laid my eyes on!” Finral exclaimed with a wide grin. “I bet if you were to give a twirl, it’d fan out so beautifully that the crowd would stop and stare.”

“I don’t think I could do something like that!” Mallory squeaked, feeling herself warm up as people were already eyeing her and Finral because of his loud voice. “But, um, thanks for the compliment.”

“And I have more to give, still!” Finral quickly followed up. “Your smile. It shines as bright as the sun. Surely, that smile alone has made the day of your sweetheart.”

Mallory shrugged, not wanting to admit that she’d never seen Nacht smile. Not truly. Only ever the empty, cordial smile he used at work.

“There’s also your heart, so full of kindness. We only passed by each other this morning and yet you’ve returned to aid me.” Finral went on waxing poetic. It was incredible how genuine he sounded. Not a hint of irony to him. “Your lover, whoever he may be, should be ashamed for not treasuring you the way you should be!”

Mallory pursed her lips and nodded a little. She did want for a love that was… more. But she was never brave enough to ask that of Nacht.

Raising her head, Mallory locked eyes with Finral. His warm grin and the way his eyes looked at her with gentleness. The deepest parts of her heart wanted that.

Mallory wanted the bold and free love that Finral was offering.

It’s just that he wasn’t offering it to her…

.....

Finral breaks out into song. Let’s call it “With All Your Heart.”

I’m not writing the whole thing out (not a lyricist here), but the gist of the song is Finral explaining his belief that love should be expressed boldly and being proud of one’s love will make them happier. It’s why he’s so forward.

Finral’s song number gets the crowd going as much as “That’s How You Know” did. Mallory is in absolute awe of the literal magic in front of her eyes and excitedly runs alongside Finral as he encourages other couples to loudly proclaim their love for each other.

Yuno is following along the whole time and is picking up on the vibes with this pair.

When the song ends, a pair of doves fly up to Mallory. They give her a wreath of flowers and tickets to a ball happening later that week, addressed from Nacht.

And now she’s thinking of Nacht again and her heart hurts realizing that she’s already smitten with another man, a taken man.

Finral hears of the ball and excitedly thinks of taking Josele there before returning home.

Mallory agrees to help him get tickets. She wasn’t just going to give up the tickets for her and Nacht, but she’d at least help Josele and Finral’s love.

Alecdora finds Mallory and Finral and takes away the prince saying he has a lead on where Josele is. Mallory tries to argue that she knows but Alecdora ignores her.

Yuno comforts Mallory for a moment then chirps, as if to reassure her that he’ll get Finral back.

.....

Nacht blinked a few times, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Can you say that again?”

“We don’t see any reason to divorce,” Zora repeated with a smile. He looked at Acylla who grinned back. “That lady from yesterday, she was so right. Acylla’s eyes have a beautiful sparkle to them. It was the first thing I noticed. I really am lucky to have fallen for her.”

“But just the other day you two were having problems,” Nacht pointed out, to which the couple snickered.

“Everyone has problems, Mr. Faust.” Acylla’s hold on Zora’s hand tightened. “But should we really allow the bad things in life to outweigh the good ones?”

Nacht raised a brow. “You’re really going to try again after a chance encounter with—”

“Have you considered that it wasn’t merely chance?” Acylla posed. “Maybe we were meant to meet that lady and she would remind us of what really mattered.”

“Like how sweet you are when I’m not bothering you,” Zora joked. The couple laughed again before sharing a brief kiss. “Yeah, I could get used to this all over again.”

Nacht fell silent. His mouth snapped shut as he had nothing to say.

There it was again. That strange magic that Josele’s presence exuded. At work again in Nacht’s life.

Nacht guided Acylla and Zora out of the office while reassuring them that Josele would hear of their gratitude towards her. There was no doubt in his mind that Josele would be overjoyed to know that the couple’s marriage had been saved.

“What a peculiar woman,” Nacht muttered, feeling a smile come to his face just thinking of everything Josele had done in only two days. “What else could possibly happen now?”

.....

The timeline of events does get extended. There’s an extra two or three days of shenanigans.

Mallory keeps on putting off telling Nacht that she’s met Finral because 1) Alecdora keeps dragging Finral off and Mallory would rather not say “I’ve seen him but I’m currently not with him” due to the inconvenience, and 2) she just wants more time with Finral herself.

So Nacht and Josele have their misadventures while Finral and Mallory have theirs.

Josele and Nacht’s misadventures include: 1) taking Sterling to an archery range since the kid is interested and when Josele tries her hand at the bow, she cuts her fingers on the fletching, 2) Josele helping some kids find their lost pets with her little animal summoning ability, and 3) Josele decorating a statue with flower wreaths and teaching Nacht and Sterling how to weave flowers together during that time.

Mallory and Finral’s misadventures include 1) getting caught up in a dance off on the streets which Finral absolutely flops since its break dancing and not ballroom, 2) coming across a runaway teen and talking things out with them (Mallory gives more grounded advice like finding a shelter while Finral’s advice is optimistic but helpful in keeping the teen’s spirits up), and 3) meeting Mallory’s sister Athena and her boyfriend, during which Finral convinces the boyfriend to go ahead with proposing.

Meanwhile, Yuno is fighting for his life against Alecdora, trying to separate him from Finral so Finral can meet up with Mallory again. Alecdora has tried clipping his wings, selling him to a pet store, and even threw him into a bird of prey exhibit at the zoo. It’s crazy.

Nacht eventually takes Josele and Sterling out for dinner, during which Nacht reveals the story behind Sterling’s lack of mother.

Sterling is Nacht’s adopted kid, but she wasn’t meant to be. She was supposed to be adopted by Morgen, Nacht’s brother.

Years ago, Morgen’s apartment building caught fire. Something about a stove being left on.

Instead of escaping immediately, Morgen went to every room he could to help others get to safety.

He eventually found a woman with one of her legs pinned under debris and a baby in her arms. The woman insisted that Morgen take her baby and leave her to die. If her baby lived, that’s what mattered.

Morgen carried the baby girl out, using his own body to protect her from the smoke and flames.

Morgen and the baby escaped, but he sustained some bad injuries.

While in the hospital, Morgen said he wanted to adopt the baby girl, named Sterling, once he was recovered. However, he wasn’t getting better, only worse.

With his dying breath, Morgen asked Nacht to take care of Sterling. “I know you have no attachment to her, brother. But please, watch over her. Don’t let the hope that lives in that child die.”

And so Sterling became Nacht’s child.

Alecdora makes a second attempt with a poison apple and Yuno saves Josele from this one.

Alecdora and Yuno face off. It ends with Alecdora “killing” Yuno.

After they return to the Faust apartment and Josele comforts Sterling, Nacht talks to Josele about staying in New York.

.....

“It’s been nearly a week since you’ve arrived, Josele. And if he hasn’t come by now, I just don’t think your so-called prince is coming at all,” Nacht whispered, trying to be gentle with the woman’s feelings.

“But he is,” Josele insisted once more. “I believe in him.”

“And maybe that belief is misplaced. You can’t hope for the impossible.”

At Nacht’s words, Josele’s expression twisted into a frown. A look which Nacht hadn’t seen since Josele had cried over Acylla and Zora’s situation days earlier. But the current frown she wore was markedly different.

“What’s with you, Nacht? Why can’t you have a little hope?” Josele asked as she leaned forward, closer to Nacht, more aggressive than she’d ever been before. “Why is it always ‘let’s stop now’ or ‘it won’t work’ or ‘it’s a waste of time’? Why are you always so gloomy?”

“I’m not gloomy, I’m realistic.” Nacht felt his chest grow tight as Josele’s eyes narrowed and she let out a sharp exhale. “You can’t always get your hopes up. Otherwise, you’ll get disappointed a lot.”

“So I should be like you and never get my hopes up?” Josele shot to her feet as she yelled.

“That’s not what I said!” Nacht rose to his feet too. “I’m just saying that hoping for the impossible will never work out!”

All Nacht has wanted to do was to spare Josele from the heartbreak of someone giving up on her. He didn’t intend to get Josele fired up, to cause her to come to the defense of her own hopes and desires.

“Well at least I have hope! Unlike you!” Josele jabbed Nacht in the shoulder, as if to emphasize. “You’re so afraid to try new things! You’re afraid to open your heart! Sometimes you’re so kind and sometimes you’re like this!” So caught up in her emotions, Josele started to pace back and forth. “And it just—! I don’t know—! All of it makes me so—! You make me so—!”

“I make you what?” Nacht pressed, leaning in close without really thinking.

“You make me so angry!” Josele snapped. “I’m angry with you, Nacht Faust!” The fierce scowl on Josele’s face was blinked away, and then she grinned. “I’m angry! Oh my gosh, I’m angry!” Her laugh, like a chime, echoed for a moment. And then, “Wait, I’m angry.”

Josele frowned again and then punched Nacht square in the stomach. The impact sent Nacht to the floor—it still shocked him how surprisingly muscular she was. Nacht groaned and held his aching torso.

“I’m sorry! Oh I’m so sorry!” Josele yelped while kneeling on the floor beside Nacht. “I didn’t think—!”

“You’re good, Josele. It’s fi—” Nacht paused when he felt Josele pick up his head and then rest it on her lap. “Josele?”

“I’m still angry, you know,” she whispered. Her fingers stroked through Nacht’s hair. “Just because not everything is as good as I want it to be, doesn’t mean I should resign myself to the bad, right?”

Nacht held his tongue for a moment. As refreshing as it had been to see Josele upset, he wasn’t going to risk a second bruise to the stomach.

“I still don’t know if your prince is coming. But… I guess we can give it a few more days.”

“Thank you, Nacht.”

It was then that Nacht dared to look up at Josele. The look on her face was… She wasn’t beaming the way she normally did. But she wasn’t scowling either. She looked… impassive. Yet peaceful. As if she was lost in thought. Something about Josele in that moment was… beautiful.

“Josele?” Nacht reached up and touched her cheek with the back of his hand.

“Hm?” Her eyes drifted down to meet Nacht’s gaze.

“We should get to sleep now. So we’re not exhausted in the morning.”

“Y-yeah…”

The silence that followed was heavy. Not even a “goodnight” was shared, only quick and quiet nods of acknowledgement.

When Josele sat back down on the couch, she noticed how fast her heart was racing. And she knew that the thought of Nacht, of standing so close to him, was the reason. But that couldn’t be right. Her True Love™ was Finral. Right?

When Nacht sat on his bed, he buried his face in his hands, feeling how warm he’d become. Seeing Josele and the new sides of her brought on by conflict, however small, had him wanting more. But she was not his to love.

Rest wouldn’t come easy to either of them that night.

.....

The morning before the ball, Mallory finally is able to get Finral away from Alecdora for good (taking Finral to her sisters’ place ensured that the man wouldn’t come knocking).

And Mallory is finally able to explain to Finral that she knows where Josele is.

Nacht receives a call from Mallory and she explains everything to him.

Mallory brings Finral over to Nacht’s apartment for the reunion.

Finral tries to prompt Josele into song but it’s Mallory who picks up on it and tries to feed Josele the words.

Still, everyone (except Sterling) agrees that Finral and Josele should return to Andalasia together. But not before a date in New York and some time at the ball that evening.

While Josele and Finral head out for their date, Nacht and Mallory sit down and chat.

Mallory: Sorry I couldn’t bring Finral by sooner. Nacht: Mallory, it’s fine. You were probably busy with work so it makes sense that— Mallory: No no, I wasn’t putting it off. I literally couldn’t bring him because some other guy kept dragging him off! He was super weird and really rude too. Even his name is weird: Alec-darrel. Nacht: That can’t be his real name. Mallory: That’s what it sounded like to me. Also, this bird kept on finding its way to me and it acted a lot smarter than the birds I usually meet. I haven’t seen him in a couple days though. Nacht: That must be the Yuno bird Josele told me about. Mallory: The bird’s name is Yuno? Not something like “Cheep” or “Chirpy”?

When Josele comes back from the date, she’s very worried about going to the ball. Mallory and Sterling immediately volunteer to help.

.....

The time came for the ladies to pick out dresses to wear to the ball.

“If you really want to get… to get Nacht’s attention, try wearing complementary colors,” Josele remarked while eyeing the rows of dresses.

Her chest ached as she thought about how lucky Mallory was to have Nacht’s attention on her. To be the one to make him stop and stare in awe. But why? Josele had Finral so why did she want Nacht to see her, to admire her?

“S-since your hair is such a lovely shade of red, you would look good in green.”

“Yeah! Daddy says green makes my hair look extra pretty too!” Sterling piped up. “I’ll go find something for Mallory! Just you wait and see!”

“Hmm.” Mallory pursed her lips and tilted her head to the side. “But isn’t Finral’s tunic green? It’d look weird if he and I… matched.”

The suggestion of which actually made Mallory’s heart flutter. She knew how silly her thoughts were but she couldn’t help it. The days spent beside Finral repeated in her mind and she wanted to remain beside him, even knowing they were both promising themselves to others.

Josele gave a weak laugh and shook her head before saying, “Oh no, it’s fine if you two matched.” She shrugged. “You two already do a fine job of matching energies so matching appearances isn’t out of the question.” She blinked and caught herself. “N-not that you and Nacht don’t also get along well! You’re both intelligent and understanding of me and Finral’s… peculiarities. A-and you, uh…”

“Sele, it’s okay.” Mallory took Josele’s hands in her own then patted the back of them. “I know Nacht and I aren’t two peas in a pod, but we’ve managed.” With a reassuring smile, she stepped back. “Now, let’s think about what you’ll wear. You ought to look like a princess for… for Finral, huh?”

A sickening jealousy twisted Mallory’s stomach. There had to be something wrong with her for wanting to be with Finral despite Josele being his True Love™. So she pushed down the wish for Finral to serenade her as his love.

“Let’s think about what you’ll wear now.” Mallory approached the dress rack. “Black goes with everything. And I know you’re more for blue but I personally think purple works better with black.”

“Yes, they make quite a pair…” Josele muttered, immediately imagining Nacht in the black suit and purple dress shirt she’d seen him wear the night they met. It was a dark and elegant look. Nacht looked…

“Oh right! Nacht!” Mallory yelped. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear black or purple because then you’d kinda be wearing Nacht’s colors! Not that it’d be bad if you did. It’d actually be good. More than good! Great even!” Mallory paced the boutique floor and gesticulated wildly as she spoke. It was quite cute, how animated and lively she was.

Smiling as she watched, Josele recalled when she first met Mallory. The red-haired woman seemed like she had been trying to restrain her feelings that fateful morning. But now, her fluster was on full display. It was cute. And she seemed more like herself.

“Because you two honestly look great together in my opinion. NOT THAT YOU’RE TOGETHER! WE CLEARED UP THAT CONFUSION ALREADY!” Mallory laughed in a way that sounded painfully forced. She then turned to Josele. “What I’m trying to say is that you’ve done each other good! I mean, you’ve brought Nacht out of his shell and he’s really gotten you adapted to New York!”

Josele blinked. “Finral hasn’t gotten used to New York?”

“Not really?” Mallory replied while giving a shrug. “He’s not talking to buses anymore but… It’s just not the place for him.”

“Well I quite like it,” Josele admitted. “It’s not as pretty as the forest I grew up in, but there’s so many people and so much to do. Each new day is an adventure.”

“There sure is a lot. Though I personally would want adventures like fighting a troll,” Mallory joked and earned a giggle from Josele as well.

The laughter between Josele and Mallory died down however. Though neither said it out loud and neither recognized how the other felt, there was a sad tension shared between them. The lives that they initially saw for themselves were no longer what they wanted.

“Mallory!” Sterling piped up, finally returning from her search. “I found the perfect dress for you!” She looked between the women. “Did I come back at a bad time?”

“No no no, Sterling!” Josele quickly knelt down by the girl. “Thank you for coming back.”

“You said you had a dress for me?” Mallory asked, hoping to dissipate the earlier atmosphere.

Sterling glanced between them again. She may have only been six, but even she knew that something was wrong.

.....

The ball scene! AAAAAHHHHH!

Finral would try to profess his love for Josele but he’d fumble it, so unlike his usual eloquent self. He’s got Mal on the mind.

Josele does her best to compliment Mallory and Nacht as a couple but Mallory points out that she looks sickly when trying to speak.

Mallory and Nacht can barely look each other in the eyes because they know they love Finral and Josele. But they stubbornly think they should stick with how things are.

Finral dances with Mallory. Nacht dances with Josele. Both men hold the women as close as they can in the dance because no one wants to let goooooo!

Still, Finral guides Josele away so they can return to Anadalasia. And when he goes to get Josele’s cloak, Liliane (disguised as a hag) comes and offers Josele the poison apple.

Finral only tries True Love’s Kiss with Josele once. After one try, he knows it’s not gonna work.

When Nacht tries to deny that his kiss might save her, Mallory snaps at him, “Don’t you dare give up. Josele needs you!”

Josele’s fight against Liliane is much bloodier, actually drawing blood from the evil queen.

But it’s Yuno pecking Liliane directly in the eyes which makes her fall to her doom.

Once the dust settles, the four adults finally speak honestly.

Mallory and Nacht officially break up and wish each other the best with their new loves.

Finral and Josele bid each other goodbye and hope for one another’s happily ever afters.

Mallory takes to the fairy tale world well, evening singing her own song on her first day.

After a year of dating, Mallory and Finral have their full fairy tale wedding.

Josele gets herself established in the real world, working some odd jobs before being able to establish her own boutique.

While Nacht does propose early on, they still take a couple of years to date and plan.

.....

“And they all lived happily ever after. The End,” Sterling stated with finality. “So? What do you think?”

Sterling’s younger siblings—Dawn, Dusk, Sirius, Merel, and Vivian—stared in awe.

“It explains why Mommy’s so good with animals,” commented Dusk.

“Mommy was gonna be a princess?!” Dawn gasped.

“But she married a lame lawyer instead…” Merel grumbled.

“Daddy’s job isn’t lame!” Sirius retorted.

“Daddy’s kinda lame for being kidnapped by a dragon though,” Vivian muttered.

“Kids, it’s time for bed!” Josele said before poking her head into the living room.

Nacht leaned his head into the door frame too. “And what was that about me being lame?”

“Sorry Daddy,” Vivian whispered.

Together, Nacht and Josele tucked in the kids before going to their own bed.

“Are we living happily ever after, Josele?” Nacht whispered as he stroked her hair.

“I’d like to think so…” she whispered back, smiling.

#disneycindy #black clover #black clover au #nacht faust #finral roulacase #black clover oc #josele canty #mallory demiscura #soda's ocs #bel's oc #nacsele #finmal #WAAAAAHHHHH THE FINMAL AND NACSELE!#zoracy #it's in the background but it's there!

9 notes · View notes

ppersonna · 5 years ago

Text

love like this - pjm | m

never used to get excited to sit here in the silence. holdin' on to something the way im holding you. didn't used to know how fast time walks and runs and flies by. i never thought i’d feel so deeply, but damn, i do - love like this, ben rector

↳ summary- Jimin wants to make sure this birthday is your favorite one yet.

↳ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

↳ pairing- park jimin x reader

↳ genre- smut, fluff, good god this is so fluffy because i am going through it right now.

↳ warnings- shower sex, oral sex (f receiving), praising, fluffy dirty talk, jimin being best boy, cute sex, light breeding kink, unprotected sex (wrap it up babes!), jimin internally waxing poetic about oral sex lolol

↳ a/n - hi babies! i am in my feels right now and whipped this out because 1- its jimin and he’s my actual baby and 2- i lowkey dreamed abt this sort of scenario and im....... emotionally unwell llllloooooollll. i really hope you like this! i super recommend listening to the song in the title/summary because fuck its CUTE and sums up alot of this relationship! pls feel free to comment, message, talk to me in any way! i love you lots!

“Wake up, my love.”

Jimin’s whispers in your ear is like hearing the harps of heaven. The way it vibrates and rolls down your spine feels like silk. It doesn't startle you awake like it should, it simply awakens your consciousness.

Your eyes flutter open and the blinking red light of your alarm clock is the first thing you see.

11:54 pm.

You must have fallen asleep waiting for your boyfriend to return home from work, like you said you would. You had plans. Tomorrow is your birthday and Jimin wanted to spend the night beforehand with you. It was some sort of tradition, dedicating the night before a birthday to each other. It started out friendly, back when you both denied yourself the feelings you were both falling in. It lasted through the years, and through the relationship changes.

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” you mutter through a half-awake yawn.

He smiles at you from where he stands above. His hair falls in his face slightly, and he reaches his hand out to cup your cheek.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry I’m late. Hobi kept us at practice until we had the dance down. You know how that goes…” he sighs.

You roll to sit up in bed and nod at the boy in front of you.

“I’m going to go shower, okay princess?” He states as he lowers himself to sit on the bed for a moment. “I’ll be back once I’m not drenched in sweat.”

You wrinkle your nose playfully at the thought, and he touches the tip of it lightly. There’s no need to exchange any more words. Jimin leans forward and captures your lips in for a kiss.

It’s sweet, so sweet it makes you nearly slide back down into bed into a puddle. He tastes like chapstick and sweat. He holds you there, kissing you like you’re the only person on earth he cares to be around, before he pulls away and smiles.

“Go back to sleep, baby. I’ll wake you up when I’m back.”

He stands and enters the en-suite bathroom, yellow light from the bathroom flooding into the darkened bedroom. He closes the door, but not all the way, so you can hear the way the water falls and his humming echoing against the tile walls.

You’re awake now—you stretch and yawn for a moment in bed before you decide to join in the shower with Jimin.

His back is turned to you when you pad into the bathroom and peer through the glass shower door. He’s humming his own song—it’s probably stuck in his head from practicing through the choreo all day.

He notices your presence by the chill of the air wafting through the open door.

“My baby,” he murmurs as he spots your sleepy smile. “Come join me.”

The door to the shower swings wide open and he stands in the spray as he watches you undress.

His eyes follow your hands as they tug at the t-shirt covering your frame. It’s old—from back in your college days, but Jimin finds it more alluring than any lingerie. It’s so classically you it makes his heart beat fast in his chest. He’ll forever associate the baggy shirt with the way you look in the mornings, messy hair and wrapped in his blankets in his bed. It’s domestic and sweet.

The shirt comes off and Jimin swears his breath hitches in his throat at the sight of your body. It’s been years now that you’ve been together, and yet it still feels like the first time all the time. You’re undeniably attractive, of course you are, but it’s more than just that. It’s the freckles that dot your shoulders, the scar on your stomach from your appendix surgery, the color of your skin tickled gold from the sun. It all culminates to be more than a seductive body with luscious curves. It’s you.

The shorts come next. Jimin is sure they’re an old pair of his boxers and the sentiment of you in his clothing pounds hard in his chest. He’s hypnotised by your long legs, soft hips, thighs that meet in the middle so softly and gently. He loves your body, every inch and curve and delicate sway. He watched as you struggled as a teenager to love and accept your body in its state. You hated the way it seemed too much, not like the others in school. Jimin thinks your body is the perfect mold. He loves the way his hands fit in the hourglass curve of your waist. He loves the plushness of your hips and solid strong thighs that hold you up with confidence.

Jimin loves every single inch of you and hasn’t stopped telling you that since the day he confessed his feelings to you.

“Come to me,” he whispers. His eyes drag up and down your body, before they settle at your own eyes. “I need you.”

You’re loathe to deny any request from the man, especially one that sounds so sweet.

The tile floor is heated from the temperature of the water. Jimin’s always liked the showers to nearly roast the skin off him. His hair is slicked back and his tanned and toned arms open for you—your favorite spot to slip into is the spot he designates between his arms for you, only you.

Your body presses against his and he’s warm, so warm that you audibly moan and press further into him. He feels like bliss. His arms encircle you and pull you tight around the middle while yours circle his neck. Any stress or discomfort in your body floats away with the steam of the shower as you rest your head on his damp collarbones. Jimin’s comforting grasp, and the way he presses his wet lips into your forehead, your nose, your cheeks, is the balm for all your wounds.

“I think it’s midnight,” he whispers as his hands smooth up and down your back. “It’s your birthday, baby.”

A smile spreads across your face, and you bury your blushing cheeks into his chest.

“I’m ollllddd,” you whine playfully and he pokes your sides with a laugh.

“Oh shush,” he chides. “You’re not that old… you’re just older than me.”

“Jimin!” You lift your head and gasp and Jimin throws his head back in laughter. You can’t help but join in, but your hands tickle at his sides, regardless.

“Okay, okay! I give!” He chokes through his laughter. “Mercy, please.”

You grant his plea and soon the laughter dies down and you hold each other tight, allowing the water to cascade down your joined bodies.

“I love you,” he whispers as he presses his lips to your neck and shell of your ear. “I’m so lucky to be the first one to wish you a happy birthday, every year.”

A lump in your throat forms and your eyes mist over. Jimin’s always been the one. He would wait up with you all night long every year of your birthday. He’d sleep over at your house in high school, stay on the phone with you during his idol training days, facetime with you while on tour across the country. Jimin’s been the one.

“I love you, Jimin.”

Finally, your lips meet where they’re magnetized to most. His plushy pink lips are turning red from the heat of the shower and they feel like warm pillows against your own. His hands wrap around you possessively, and he holds you like he doesn’t want to break you and like he can’t get enough all in one grip.

As he kisses you, he guides you down to the granite bench of the shower. It was an addition Jimin insisted on when building the house. Initially, you resisted and thought the idea too gaudy and expensive, but now that you’re here, being pressed into the warm rock surface, you’re thankful Jimin didn’t let up.

“Let me give you your first gift,” he whispers as he finally pulls his lips away from yours.

You’re breathless. You press your back against the wall of the shower and nod dumbly at the man above you. He adjusts the spray of the shower so it continues to bathe the two of you in warmth—he refuses to make you uncomfortable for even just a second.

Jimin stands before you, and you’re reaching to grasp at his hardened length to take what you think he intends to give you, but he bats your hands away.

“No, my love,” he coos as he lowers himself to his knees. “Today is all about you.”

Shivers erupt down your spine and your nipples prickle at the sensation. Jimin smiles as he watches the buds wrinkle and harden on your skin and he leans forward to pull one into his mouth. It feels hot, hotter than the water pouring onto your skin, and soft mewling noises escape you.

Jimin’s always known your hot spots. He spent the first 6 months of your dating life nearly writing a thesis on what spots you loved most, where you reacted the best when he focused his attention. He’s learned that worshipping your body with slow and languid kisses and licks has your internal temperature heating to its boiling point.

He sucks gently, nibbles the buds in his mouth as he palms the other with his hand. He loves the way you feel in his grasp, the weight of your pretty breasts filling his palms. He’s obsessed with every curve that makes the shape of you. He can’t get enough. He thinks he’s memorized your body in his sleep.

You gasp his name and arch your back to allow him more room, more access to your chest. He laves his tongue around the nipple he sucked on, before he switches to the other. He never lets them remain untouched for long—his tongue works on one while his fingers grasp the other.

Your legs spread open unconsciously, core dripping with heat comparable to the steamy shower above you.

“Please, Jimin,” you gasp out as he nibbles a bit and pops a bud out of his mouth.

His face shows no sign of teasing, no intent on making you beg or earn. Jimin is dominant with you, through and through, but tonight he has no intention of making you kneel before him or beg for his cock. He wants to worship you, wants to pour his love out with his tongue against your clit. And he intends to make it known how deep that love goes.

“Yes, my baby,” he whispers as his lips trail up your collar and neck to kiss at your lips.

His baby. You shiver at the sound of the possessiveness in his voice. It never fails to make you weak, to have you eating out of the palm of his hands. You’ve always been his, even before you truly knew it.

He doesn’t linger long on your lips. He cups a cheek and rubs at the gentle skin beneath your eyes as he gazes into you. Tonight, Jimin’s eyes say more than just raw or carnal desire. The color and look in Jimin’s eyes could write sonnets that rival the great Shakespeare himself. He looks as if he could compose symphonies devoted to you and the way you make him feel. The thought rolls around your head and makes your heart swell so big it feels as if it cuts off the air to your lungs.

Jimin trails his lips down your body, kisses at your reddened nipples one last time. His lips against your stomach and hips and thighs feel like his exaltation to you, as if he’s praying to you, a goddess, and offering his supplication for what you have given him.

He presses your legs open wider and stares with heat and desire at your center. It’s slicked up with arousal and colored a pretty pink that makes him dizzy with love. Jimin thinks his favorite color is the shade of fuschia of your clit.

You’re whimpering as he spreads your folds apart with his fingers. You can feel the heat of the shower, the solid breath escaping his plush lips that you’re desperate to have on you. Your legs tremble and Jimin smiles as he watches your big eyes plead for him to give you something—anything.

“My beautiful, perfect baby,” he invokes like a prayer. “So pretty and laid out for me. I love you. I love this sweet little pussy and how wet you get for me.”

Another desperate whimper leaves your lips and he can feel the desire rolling off you in waves.

“Let me hear you, baby. Let me hear those pretty little sighs as I drink you up.”

He leaves you no chance to agree to his gentle command and instead buries himself into the apex of your thighs. You gasp as his tongue makes contact with your clit and begins a languid vertical motion from your dripping hole back to the nub of nerves.

You whine out his name graciously, desperately, as his tongue dives into you and laps at the juices coming out of you. He drinks it like its wine, the finest and most expensive vintage. The way your body tightens and trembles at his touch makes him groan against your pussy. He feels so powerful with you, so loved and adored. He finds it incredible that even amid him pleasuring you, your response to his ministrations pleasures him as much as your mouth would.

His tongue and lips against your nub feel like stinging, delicious fire. It feels like the shower heats to a simmer by his actions alone, and it leaves scorching marks on your skin that make you gasp. His fingers grip at the thickness of your thighs and leave prints where they hold you tight. He likes the way the plush skin feels beneath him—the way his fingers leave bruises on your delicate skin.

“Jimin,” you cry. “Please, more.” You’re desperate for more but you’re quickly losing the ability to coherently ask for it.

Jimin normally would make you verbalize it, make you tell him exactly what you want him to do. But he feels merciful tonight. Maybe it’s the sweet gasps and moans you make that go straight to his cock and to his heart. He’ll give in tonight, make you feel in control of the events tonight.

“You want my fingers, baby?” He asks sweetly while his tongue spells his name out on your clit. He wants your body to recognize just who gets you going, who works your body to the brink every single time. You’re his, and he wants every atom, every strand of DNA inside you to know that.

You’re nodding quickly, hands trembling as you try to grip at something and come short. The slippery granite does nothing more for you than add to the desperation you feel and you’re nearly keening for him.

“Yes, my love,” he agrees.

Jimin slowly inserts his middle and pointer finger into your core. It’s a stretch for now, but he’ll slowly work you open until you can take every inch of his thick cock later. He wants to take you all night, have your body pressed up against his as he makes love to you on every surface of your shared bedroom and adjoining bathroom. He wants to give you a birthday present of filling you up as much as you want and can take it.

Once you feel his fingers breach you, your moans turn from breathy and needy to loud and wanton. It feels incredible to feel him inside you, filling an emptiness that lingers anytime he’s not within you. Once Jimin first slid into you so long ago, you knew he was the missing piece to your body and your soul.

“Fuck!” You shout as he flicks his tongue against your clit and sets a pace with his fingers.

He smirks against your cunt as you shout, knowing he’s got you now wrapped around his fingers. He coaxes more out of you by curling his fingers, pressing against the spongy spot within you that stops your breathing for a moment and makes your legs jerk. He coos his revelry into you and increases the speed. He wants to see your undoing, wants to watch the way your body lets go around his fingers and against his tongue.

Jimin’s tongue continues its barrage on your clit and you’re winding higher and higher and you can feel the way your stomach tightens to prepare for your end. He can feel your channel tightening and it eggs him on to continue, to pump faster and slip in a third finger while he suckles at your sensitive clit. You’re gasping out his name, pleading and begging and warning him as the end comes closer and closer.

In an instant, you snap and your cunt convulses around his fingers. He can feel it pulsating around him and your clit throbs against his tongue. He smiles, closes his eyes as he listens to you cry out your bliss and tug at his wet hair. He wishes he could record the way you scream his name at your end, always unable to hold back whimpering and whining his full name instead of whatever honorific he makes you call him the rest of the time.

He loves that you know it’s always him, always Jimin, making you reach your high.

Jimin’s tongue laps at the wetness escaping you as you settle down. Your breathing remains harsh but you’re able to inhale deeper and open your eyes. You peer down at him as he pulls his fingers from within you. Your gaze melts his soul. It speaks more than your words ever could. It tells him just how in love with him you are, just how devoted you are to him for the rest of your life.

Jimin doesn’t give you time to speak. He pulls your weak legs to standing and guides you out of the shower. He rubs you with soft, warm towels and dries your entire body before drying himself. He dries your hair with a smile as you peek at him through the white towel, before you lean forward and kiss him. He holds the kiss, moves his lips against yours deeply and passionately as he lifts you and walks you towards the king-sized bed. The blankets are messy from where you slept, but neither of you care to fix it. He tucks you into the sheets and follows suit.

His fingers trail hot on your skin as he kisses at your face, your chin, your neck.

There’s no speaking as he hovers over you, lines his thick length with your aching core and slides into you.

“Jimin,” you whisper as he sheathes himself fully.

The way you say his name sounds like a grateful prayer, a thankful benediction to him. It sends him reeling.

He starts the pace slowly, watches the way your eyes bore into his as the sound of skin slapping skin fills the room. It feels like white, hot bliss to be buried inside you. The slickness of your first orgasm coats him and he slides in and out of you easily.

Jimin never felt what home was until the first time he slipped between you. He never understood that home wasn’t a place, a brick and mortar building with belongings. Home is buried within you, taking two beings and joining them as one. He thinks wherever he goes, home will always be the way you cling to him, whisper your adoration to him as he makes love to you.

He can’t help himself from kissing your face, pressing his lips against your eyelids and your cheeks as he ruts into you. Your hips are matching his speed and time, egging him on and desperate for his own end. You want to treat him as well as he treated you.

It’s not just your body that feels deliciously stretched and full of Jimin—it’s your entire soul and being that feels as if you’ve finally found a piece of you that wasn’t quite complete. Jimin fits himself into that slot so easily, without fail.

“I love you,” he groans into your ear as he licks and kisses it gently. “I love you, so much.”

His words make you whimper, make your pussy tighten impossibly around his thickness and it makes him moan.

“Want to fill you,” he whispers as he sucks a mark into your neck. “Want to give us a baby.”

It makes your heart burst. You’re desperate for a family, want a child with the idol above you so badly you dream of it nightly. Jimin wants it too, wants to see you swollen with his baby, wants to start and raise a family with you, you, only you.

“Please!”

It’s all you're capable of asking, only capable of begging for what he offers you. Your heart rate speeds incredibly at the thought of finally establishing more than just you and him and bringing a life that is proof of your devotion and love.

He keeps at it, moving his hips faster and faster. He lifts his head up to throw it back at how good you feel, how close he is. You can tell he’s close to the edge by how desperate his breathy moans and sweet words come out. He drops a hand to circle at your clit—he wants to come with you, wants to make this moment about both of you, about the culmination of you.

The added pressure along with the look on his face that reads as if he’s memorizing every moment of this love-making sends you over your edge unexpectedly. The turbulent waves crash over you and send you soaring high, higher than you think you’ve ever been before. The passion in the love-making makes your end so much more overwhelming—it’s the physical manifestation of how much he loves you, and you love him.

Your walls contracts around him and Jimin whimpers a ‘fuck!’ as he feels himself unravel and pump his seed into you, as deep as he can make it go. The feeing is unparalleled, the highest point of bliss you think you’ve ever felt. You’re gasping out as it feels your entire body is sucking him in, milking him and wanting to keep him buried inside you for as long as you can. Jimin doesn’t think he’d ever leave if he had the choice.

The come-down from the high is just as blissful as the orgasm itself. Jimin is sure he’s never met someone who makes post-coital cuddling as intense and orgasmic as the sex itself. You hold him so sweetly, whisper your praise into his ear, tell him how much you love him and how you hope to be his forever and ever. You tell him you can’t wait to have his baby, to start a family with him.

Jimin holds you close, pulls the blankets tight around your still damp bodies.

As your breathing slows and evens out and he whispers a soft ‘happy birthday’ to your ears, Jimin knows he’s never felt a love quite like this.

#bts smut #jimin smut #jimin #bts fic #bts imagine #bts park jimin #bts jimin #park jimin smut #kpop smut #bts fluff #jimin fluff #park jimin fluff #bangtan smut #bangtan fluff #bangtanarmynet #heartsforbts

1K notes · View notes

lizziesquire · 4 years ago

Note

hi liz! if you ever have the time, energy, and interest, would you consider writing up an advice post for incoming law students? i'm starting in the fall and i'm a little terrified, but i've always looked up to you so, so much and would really value any wisdom you have. but absolutely no pressure – i know you have a busy life and don't want to be a source of stress <333

hi hi, bb!!!! yes, of course!!!! congratulations times a million on getting into law school, and welcome to the profession :') !!!!!

i hardly feel qualified to give advice, but—here are some tips off the top of my head, and please let me know if there's anything in particular that you'd like me to elaborate on or explain or touch on that i haven't included in the below xx

remember that it's school and that you've done school for your whole life. people loooooove waxing poetic about how law school is a different beast and to ring the alarm bells about how hard it is and yadda yadda and. that's true to a certain extent. but remember that, at the end of the day, it is just school. and you've done school your whole life to have gotten to this point. trust in your study habits, trust in the learning methods you've learned and cultivated over the years that work best for you, and just. trust in yourself and your brain. law school is difficult not because of the subject matter—yes, it's hard, but there's nothing more special or more difficult about it than were new mathematical concepts or forms of poetry that you've had to learn to recognize. it's an area of study, just like any other. law school is difficult because of the politics and the mind games and the constant second-guessing that you go through, particularly if you didn't grow up with family in the field.

don't get intimidated by the jargon. unknowingly or not, lawyers love using jargon, and that applies in the classroom, too. you'd think that they'd explain to you what "trespass on the case" is versus "trespass" before getting inanely into the facts of tickle v. barton in civ pro, or to explain to you what civ pro even is. you'd think that someone would sit you down and explain how federal regulations and state law and federal law all work together (or don't) generally before throwing you into the realm of admin law—you'd think that people wouldn't take for granted that not everyone understands that cases make their way up to scotus from district courts to courts of appeals to scotus and to explain how bankruptcy courts and the federal circuit fit into the picture, etc. etc. but they don't. most of the time, no one will interrupt class to ask the professor what the heck a motion in limine or the writ of habeas corpus (or what a writ is at all). but just know that most of your class is right there alongside you. don't get intimidated! use google to your advantage! res ipsa loquitur is just another name for something that is explainable in plain, everyday english. remember that this profession thrives off of gatekeeping and elitism, and don't let it get to you. laugh at it in your head, how silly it all is, and go "ah, per se just means it violated the statute" and move on. you are not any less because you didn't come in knowing what it meant. the fault is on the legal education system, not you!

don't worry about the curve. i never understood why people worry so much about the curve when the act of worrying won't impact a damn thing. no amount of worrying about the curve is going to improve your grade—in fact, energy wasted in thinking about it when you're just going to land somewhere along it may actually hurt rather than to help. the curve is what it is; no use in fretting about it. just do the best you can and let things fall where they fall!!! it's not as if the prof will go "ah, X person worried 4 hours more than Y person, thus X person deserves the A- more." nope! tune it out. it's all mind games. screw that!!! don't buy into it. focus on you, do your thing, and that's that!

there's a lot of processes to learn about. don't worry. you will. what the heck is a clerkship? what is oci? how does it all work? long-term planning is ofc necessary, sometimes, but!! as a 1L, and especially as a first semester 1L, do not worry about all of that. just focus on your schoolwork and take things one day at a time. figure out a study and reading schedule that works for you. figure out if you want to be briefing every case or if there's a different system that works for you (like highlighting the holding and reasoning in the textbook and making margin notes). when you're feeling overwhelmed because people are talking about jobs and internships and externships and fellowships and scholarships, just. take a breather and remember that, at the end of the day, you're there to do school. so do school! learn about the things you're interested in, but don't buy into the panic about everything. go at your own pace, ask questions, and breathe through it all. you got this.

listen to what the loudest people are saying, and don't get intimidated just by the amount that people say or the number of times they speak up. my best friend—he's top of our class, graded onto law review... he didn't realize that some of our most verbose classmates were utterly inane until the beginning of spring semester, when he'd turned to me during one of our walks and went, "you know, you were right. i actually listened to what X person was saying, and he just repeats what he reads in the notes of the textbook!" Here he was, top of our class, feeling impressed by someone just because they raised their hand a lot and took up a lot of air time. don't fall into the trap. actually listen to what they're saying instead of automatically assuming that they're right to be taking up that much space when, in reality, they're just being a showy peacock for no good reason.

remember that cold calls don't count at all towards your exam. they can be scary, for sure, but remember that they don't count! focus your energy on the end goal of the exam instead of preparing the nitty gritty details of every single case. at the end of the day, all you're going to have in your outline (summarized notes distilling all of the cases into a couple sentences of their holding and reasoning) is a couple sentences from the case and the professor won't care at all about how well you can recite the facts of Nyx. remember the end goal!!! it's all about the exam--don't sweat the cold call.

surround yourself with people who make you feel good and safe and genuinely cared about. unfortunately, lawyers self-select into the profession b/c they think that being argumentative or a dick is conducive to being a good lawyer (i'm not a lawyer yet, but i have a gooooood feeling that it's not). surround yourself w folks who don't stress you out or make you feel badly about yourself and are. just a good support system!!!! law school is tough for so many reasons. connect with people who make you feel good and whom you want to support and commiserate and celebrate with, through the ups and the downs. find your peeps!!! the rest will fall into place.

i hope this helps, bb!!! sending lots of love. please update me on how things go, and i'm always here for any questions/fears/etc.!!! i'm so proud of you, bb law student!!!!!! sending tons of good vibes your way, and enjoy the heck out of this summer xx

#asks #anonymous #prelaw

11 notes · View notes

hopevalley · 4 years ago

Text

Season 8, Episode 2: Honestly, Elizabeth

I think I’ll do all my write-ups this year scene-by-scene. It’s easier to keep track of everything that happens in the episode that way, and I can write up thoughts while I’m watching the episode.

I’ll just jump right in!

Scene 1: Narration/Jack Jack

The first scene starts out with Elizabeth writing in her journal about the arrival of Lucas’s mother to town, and I think the writing here was actually polished up as to be concise and fairly decent. I didn’t mind seeing Jack staring at his father’s picture, but I think what would have made a much more compelling scene would have been for him to turn away from the picture and pick up a toy off of the ground and just start playing with it. Something symbolic of moving on, or at least of Jack’s lack of connection to his father at this age. While he’d certainly be curious when he gets older, at his current age he has no real reason to care.

Elizabeth waxing poetic about how strong and brave Jack was, and how her son embodies those same traits is…I don’t know. It came off a little silly to me—like it was trying just a little too hard to be meaningful.

—

Scene 2: Lucas check on Helen

I like that Lucas seems to care for his mother a lot, and that he wants to help her. I think he realizes there’s perhaps more to her visit than merely wanting to see Elizabeth, but isn’t willing to push for that kind of information. My guess is that they’re just not that emotionally close to one another.

—

Scene 3: The Crate of DOOM

Joseph from the railroad brings a delivery for Lee and in helping Joseph carry it, Lee hurts his back. This was a genuinely good scene. CALLCARSONCALLCARSONCALLCARSON. It also has the advantage of making everyone feel friendly and neighborlike. Elizabeth popping out of her house, Jesse just stopping by… It was nice.

—

Scene 4: Nathan and Elizabeth Talk

Opal’s dress was really cute in this scene, and Robert really is growing up fast! I’m glad Allie and Opal seem attached to him; the show feels more cohesive with its little friend groups and it’s been hard to really show that off since Cody left. Allie fills that void easily and I think gets better lines/dialogue/scenes as well. She gets treated like a character of the appropriate age.

Also, Nathan treating Robert respectfully is nice. It comes off like he recognizes Robert’s good intentions and genuine enthusiasm and treats him appropriately, too.

The little quip about Allie being interested in boys was cute (and not over-the-top), and I like that Nathan is the first to bring up the missed…dinner date. Elizabeth’s response is interesting to me; she does seem a little more enthusiastic, at least about how fun it would have been had she followed through on it. When Nathan suggests they could try it again, though, she clams up. I think what’s interesting about it is that she doesn’t look disgusted or unhappy with the idea, just…a tad uncomfortable—like she wants to say something but can’t/won’t. A pretty good scene.

—

Scene 5: Introducing Joseph Canfield

At this point in the episode I knew I’d love Joseph. He’s so wholesome and pleasant both in his demeanor and his offer to pray for Lee.

—

Scene 6: Nichols and Dimes

I really am enjoying Fiona’s interactions with Mike Hickam. Actually, I’m enjoying that Mike gets any lines at all. He’s a pretty good actor and deserving of the screentime. Also that man has a butt and they’re showing of in like, every other scene he’s in LOL. Fiona trying to explain the reason for the name of the shop is quirky without being too over-the-top I think. It works well enough and I think lends some more personality to her character.

This scene gave us some more low-key genuinely funny stuff with Jesse repeating “Nichol isn’t spelled that way, right?”

Henry’s surprise at the barber being a woman isn’t too over the top either. At this time, barbers would just about always be men, because not only did they handle haircuts and shaves, but it served as a gossip (and business, as Fiona mentioned in the last episode) center for all the men in the area AND the barber usually also treated things like toothaches and first aid if a doctor wasn’t around.

I admit her reaction to all the men running off was...a bit surprising. I figured her feelings would be hurt, but she literally just laughs it off, maybe just too excited at having her own business to continue to think about, you know, what will happen if she doesn’t get customers.

—

Scene 7: Joseph runs out of gas.

There isn’t much to say here, but when he walks back to town he sings “It Is Well with My Soul” which was always one of my favorite hymns. My pastor had his own piano arrangement of it and everything. I knew from this moment forward that I would defend him to the death.

—

Scene 8: At the clinic

This is probably not the most...accurate medical scene ever, but it wasn’t bad. The best part about it was actually Molly, though. It looks like she’s really thrown herself into working with Carson and she’s used to it and even enjoys it!

—

Scene 9:Nathan and Bill talk

The scene is super simple but I think it was excellently done. Nathan wants to adopt Allie and Bill thinks that’s a fine idea in theory, but in starting proceedings (court filings, public notices, et cetera) he could stir things up. It sounds like Bill and Nathan spoke about Dylan since Bill knows how Dylan found him (the newspaper article).

Bill mentions a fee and at first I thought this was going to be the start of a really sour joke about Bill being greedy or something, but to my surprise (AND IMMENSE RELIEF), they were just discussing it like a business transaction...which it is. Nathan trusts Bill to be fair with that... AND I LOVE IT.

Allie’s mother’s full name is Colleen Mayes Grant. Allie’s full name is Allison Mayes Parks. Would Parks also be Colleen’s full name if she were married to Dylan? Am I missing something here?

Anyway, Nathan and Bill then talk about the money that Nathan used to trap Dylan, and Nathan admits he got it from Lucas, which...surprises Bill.

“You asked Lucas?! You do love your niece.” Nathan is a little amused by it, but I think this is interesting. I mean, 1) Nathan asked Lucas in the first place, which is telling, but also, 2) Lucas loaned him the money without even asking what it was for. Maybe they are not on such bad terms after all, lol. ;)

Nathan points to a map and asks about some land, and Bill says he owns that land, and that he was thinking of building a cabin on it but he’s just not really that sure he wants to. Nathan asks if he’d be willing to sell and Bill (jokingly) asks, “How much of that money did you give back to Lucas?”

Good scene, wholesome scene. I genuinely enjoy watching these two interact. It almost reminds me of the older seasons when Bill and Frank and Jack would all scheme together; stuff like this just helps build up the characters a lot, and it helps the town feel...real.

—

Scene 10: Lucas and Elizabeth Chat

This was a short but nice scene. I think it’s clear Lucas is a bit worried about his mother and asks Elizabeth to visit her in the hopes that it might encourage her to talk to someone or feel better.

At first I thought this was perhaps a bit much, like...she barely knows the woman why would Helen even want a visit from Elizabeth? But then I thought...well, Lucas is probably thinking of the fact that Elizabeth has spoken with Helen now and again about her writing, so a visit from her would be expected since she’s in town.

I like Elizabeth’s honesty in admitting she was intimidated by Helen. “So she does bite!” Kind of a cute/silly scene. I liked it.

—

Scene 11: Rosemary and Elizabeth talk.

This was probably the second weakest scene in the episode. Rosemary just says hi and tells Elizabeth she can’t help with anything regarding Lee, and then Elizabeth says she’s off to visit Helen, and Rosemary says “Oh, the old saying...the way to an editor’s heart.”

Elizabeth replies with, “I don’t think that’ show that saying goes.”

I think they were trying for Funny here but it misses its mark and doesn’t really add anything to the episode. I’d have rather had an earnest word of encouragement from Rosemary.

—

Scene 12: Elizabeth visits Helen

There are a lot of things to like about this. Helen takes her job very seriously, and corrects Elizabeth (“book” vs. “manuscript”—it ain’t a book yet!). Helen comments on Elizabeth being undisciplined but this is an objectively true statement (whether Elizabeth likes it or not).

I think Helen is actually really understanding when Elizabeth blurts out that she was late with her first draft because, “I decided not to let my writing interfere with my life.” She’s pretty calm about it, and says maybe her trip was for nothing.

Elizabeth springs back and hurries to explain that while her writing means a lot to her, and she takes it seriously, it’s also not her main source of income. I was really worried that Helen was going to come off as this huge bitch hurting Poor Widdle Ewizabiff’s Feewings but I think she’s actually pretty great in this scene. She doesn’t come off as the bad guy, but neither does Elizabeth. In fact, I feel like both characters communicate quite cleanly and it seems Helen appreciates Elizabeth’s spunk, haha.

—

Scene 13: Henry and Lucas have a meeting

The writers straight up wanted to negate some of what happened last season, and I think that was a smart choice. There are some lines in this scene that I really enjoy a lot. “I like you, Henry. I don’t know why, but I do.” I think Lucas likes Henry because he’s been mostly up front with Lucas about his methods...which he does here, too.

“I’m willing to get my hands dirty.”

Henry’s proposal is that he will double the crude output in the first year he’s back as Lucas’s partner, and if he doesn’t manage it, he will walk away. However, if he is successful, he becomes majority owner at 60% and is allowed to make all business decisions.

This is a very good opportunity for Lucas, provided he trusts Henry can at least maintain current output. He loses nothing if Henry walks away and he loses hardly anything (in fact, he loses a bit of profit and a LOT of responsibility) if Henry manages it and stays on.

When asked why he had a change of heart, Henry says he “has his reasons.”

—

Scene 14: Joseph comes back to town + Fiona’s

This actually isn’t its own separate scene, but rather, the camera pans from the previous scene to Joseph walking into town.

Joseph stops Hickam about getting some gas, but Hickam is sent away to hold up his end of a bet while Jesse helps Joseph.

The camera then is in Fiona’s barbershop, so I’m counting these two scenes together. Hickam asks for a trim and she agrees to do it. He apologizes for running off earlier and she accepts his apology with grace and says she’s glad he came back. He tells her it was the right thing to do and she calls him out instantly for having accepted a bet from Jesse.

This is a pretty funny little joke, but the best part about it is actually how it ties Hickam and Jesse together. They’re around the same age and they could be friends; I like the implication. Some of the male friendships have suffered a bit in recent years so it’s nice to see those getting a splash of attention.

Anyway, Fiona doesn’t take offense and Hickam seems relieved.

—

Scene 15: Sergeant gets some pats

Sergeant is a good boy and so deserves some pats! The only thing I hate about this scene is the dialogue. Robert is like, a farm boy...and you’re telling me he’s never ridden a real horse? Please. This is in a time period where most of these kids would know how to ride a horse. He’s no larger a horse than any other horse in town! The bigger concern should be that Sergeant is an ex-mounted police horse, which means he needs a more experienced rider (and that certain signals could mean different things to Sergeant than they would mean for a farmhorse).

It’s still pretty cute overall, but I think they could have had the kids currying him or something instead. “We can start by patting him” seems a little silly when this horse has been patted by everyone in town 3 billion times by this point.

The camera then adjusts to the window of the saloon’s upstairs room where Helen is watching Elizabeth spend time with the kids.

She’s more or less smiling and watching Elizabeth and the kids, studying them. As predicted, she has already decided she likes Elizabeth.

—

Scene 16: Hickam narrowly avoids death

Or more like, he moves while Fiona is trying to cut his hair and she gets his ear with the scissors. He literally runs out of the barbershop, past Helen and Lucas who are now out for a walk, and straight to the clinic.

—

Scene 17: Rosemary talks to Elizabeth and the kids

This is a continuation of the last scene where the camera catches Rosemary from outside the clinic (as Hickam goes in) and follows her over to Elizabeth where she says hello (they are still with Sergeant but over by the church now).

I’m a little tired of these Cute Widdle Opal moments. She’s like, nine years old. The fake smiling and “oh my goodness!”ing is too much for me at this point. I probably hated this scene the most.

—

Scene 18: Lucas talks with his mother

Helen calls out the situation exactly for what it is: Elizabeth is the reason Lucas has settled in Hope Valley, and Lucas and Nathan are vying for Elizabeth’s hand. Lucas admits these are both true.

Just a nice little scene. Helen seems pretty normal and good here.

—

Scene 19: Elizabeth talks to Nathan

On her way out of the mercantile (with a cloth to clean Opal’s face) Elizabeth runs into Nathan who is on his way up to Bill’s land to check it out. She says he must be serious if he’s going in the middle of the day out to look at it, and he says he is. “I think it’s time I settle down.”

She walks down a step or two and turns after him as he’s about to go into the mercantile: “Nathan? When you’re back from your trip, perhaps we could get together?”

And he agrees to this, almost in a tone that’s like, he doesn’t want to seem too excited.

As soon as Nathan is in the store, Robert goes flying by on Sergeant with the worst posture I’ve ever seen.

Elizabeth steals Newton from Nathan and goes after Robert, catching up to him and dragging him back to town right in front of Jesse and Joseph.

Joseph is of course iMMEDIATELY like: “I want to live in this crazy place.”

This isn’t how I would write a scene like this, mostly because I would assume that Robert could ride a horse (and his posture later kind of says this...lol) and it’s really hard to film something like this without it Actually Being Dangerous (mostly due to the gravel in town—a horse could kick that into someone’s face and they’d be messed up, or they could slip in it)(also, the filming location doesn’t have a lot of Large Spaces where they can really let a horse gallop safely). I’d probably have a stunt double dashing off at an actual run if possible, and show Elizabeth catching up to Robert who has been thrown from the horse. He’s fine (landed in some prairie grass or something) but then it’s actually really scary.

Her “catching up” and “helping” just doesn’t work very well when it’s very clear these horses are moving at a leisurely pace.

But if you can use your imagination it wasn’t a bad scene.

—

Scene 20: Lee and Rosemary

It’s the next morning, and Rosemary helps Lee sit on the couch. Rosemary gives him his coffee but there’s no sugar in it (this is hard to believe; they’ve been married how long? She’s been making this every day for how many years?) and she boogies over to Elizabeth’s.

—

Scene 21: Rosemary and Elizabeth have a chat

Rosemary talks to Elizabeth about the chase after Robert and then to little Jack and there’s a little moment where she looks at Jack and talks about how her and Lee like hearing him laugh when the weather is nice and the windows are open. It was a nice touch.

Rosemary offers to babysit until Laura arrives.

It’s a nice scene but I’m a little tired of the babytalk for a child that is way older than they’re acting. This is a 2-3 year old child, not a baby who can’t talk.

—

Scene 22: Bill meets Joseph Canfield

Joseph came back to town to have another look around and consider buying the gas station. He mentions the church, and Bill says they don’t have a pastor right now because “he left to become a missionary.” I’m not sure which pastor they’re talking about here: Zeke or the guy before him, or even Frank? My guess is Zeke since they took the time to give him a name, and there’s no reason why Frank would do that when he’s been written away as finding his calling in mentoring/pastoring/caring for terminally ill children.

Joseph says he’s looking to settle down and would like it to be Hope Valley, which is....sudden. I’m not sure what the script could have said instead, but maybe if there was some kind of hint that his wife isn’t happy in their current situation? Or maybe that he’s been looking around and that he found Hope Valley when he wasn’t even looking—just doing his job.

It’s a hard sell either way. There’s a whole lot of nothing in this area, so it’s hard to imagine Hope Valley wouldn’t be on the map with a railroad stop...lol...

Joseph says he doesn’t want to build, so Bill says he knows a guy.

Good scene. I’m always happy when Bill gets normal interactions, and it seems like in this scene we’re meant to imagine that he is actually on his rounds (since Nathan is away).

—

Scene 23: Elizabeth and Helen edit...

Helen says “dour” in a way Elizabeth has never heard it said, and it sounds kind of clear that everything Helen says, Elizabeth just blanks out and can’t discuss reasonably.

“I’m just not used to writing this way.” You’re...not writing. You’re editing. There’s a difference. And Helen seems to be trying to get at the Author’s Intentions (“Would you describe this character as dour?”) to ensure that Elizabeth’s writing matches what she’s going for.

They’ve made it past ONE page at this point. They do share a chuckle over how slow their progress is, though, and I mean, as a writer that’s a whole entire mood, so it’s fine.

—

Scene 24: Henry’s cabin

For some reason Henry owns a cabin and Joseph, Bill, and Henry are checking it out. Bill is mostly snooping to find things wrong with it lol, which is very in character for him, considering Henry is (or at least was) the enemy.

Joseph decides to buy the place because it’s not too far from town and there’s room for the kids to play.

Boom he’s in.

Welcome Hope Valley, Joseph!

—

Scene 25: Robert’s Sorry + Helen’s Truth

Robert has atoned for his sins by cleaning all the stalls out or something. Helen and Elizabeth meet Robert on a walk. He’s atoned for his sins by cleaning the stables.

Helen and Elizabeth chat a bit, and Helen drops a bunch of Truth Bombs:

-Authors often feign indifference to the characters they create, or insist they are mere fabrications outside themselves.

-Elizabeth is honest with herself and with others, and honest in her writing.

-Most people are uncomfortable and afraid, and hide behind characters they’ve created for themselves.

She then says that she’s like that (kind of an awkward delivery line) and then instantly launches into saying she came to see Lucas and to see her, too, but if she’s being completely honest, she’s come because her husband has left her.

(Scene break for commercials)

Elizabeth runs after Helen and calls her “Mrs. Bouchard” but quickly corrects herself to call her “Helen” (NOW IT MAKES SENSE WHY HELEN DOESN’T WANT TO BE CALLED MRS. BOUCHARD!) and asks if she wants to talk about it.

“There’s really nothing to say. It’s not going to change anything.”

Lucas’s father is in London, supposedly, and as Lucas walks over to the two of them, Helen asks for Elizabeth to keep this just between them, as he doesn’t know yet.

I’m not sure where they’re going to go with this, or how they’re going to resolve it, but it’s possible this was just a misunderstanding (seems farfetched but hey, it’s Hallmark).

As an aside, the flowers they have out on display are all summer flowers. Does it matter? No. Am I pointing it out? Yes.

Lucas offers to take both women to dinner and Elizabeth says she isn’t able to go. I think she should have stated she had a prior engagement (so she didn’t appear to be rude), but Helen takes him up on the offer.

Walking away, Elizabeth runs into Laura, Emily, Anna, and Timmy, which was nice because all the mentions of Laura without actually seeing Laura made me worry she wasn’t on the show anymore, haha.

Laura isn’t with Jack because Rosemary wanted to watch him for the day. Elizabeth turns around and asks Lucas for his help with something.

—

Scene 26: The Surprise for Rosemary and Lee

Elizabeth comes over to collect Jack with a surprise: a nice dinner all premade, a bottle of wine, and some mood music. ;)

This is a wholesome and sweet scene. Elizabeth leaves with Jack and Lee struggles to his feet to dance with Rosemary.

—

Scene 27: The letter

Henry goes to the mercantile to see if there’s any mail and there IS...the letter he sent out last episode has been returned...opened.

Henry’s upset by this (he seems genuinely hurt) and asks Ned if he opened it. Ned says he didn’t, and Florence defends him by saying he would never do that. Henry leaves and Ned says he forgot to take care of something in the back and wishes Florence good night.

Very suspicious. I don’t think Ned opened the letter but I do think he read it. He looked a little upset himself...? Not sure what’s going on here. Could it involve a relative? Nora? A business proposition?

—

Scene 28: Florence and Molly

At the saloon, Florence and Molly talk about the letter, and Florence says she thinks the person who opened it was the person Henry sent it to.

Molly notices Bill laughing and having a good time with a woman she doesn’t know and stares at them. Florence points it out and says Molly must be bad-tempered because she’s hungry and suggests they order and eat. Molly gets up and marches right on over there and embarrasses Florence with her BS.

She mentions the chili in the cafe and then fakely says, “Oh nooo, I’m being rude,” and introduces herself to Helen.

Helen doesn’t shake her offered hand but does give her name. She’s extremely awkward and leaves in a hurry, with Florence on her heels.

Helen tells Bill he must have a “fan.”

Bill says he wasn’t aware of that.

The classic Bill Squint™.

—

Scene 29: Mike returns

Mike comes back to have his haircut finished. She says she’ll be more careful this time; he admits it’s his fault...and they both agree that they’re both to blame a little bit.

Clara and Faith drag their men in and insist on them getting haircuts/trims. I liked the scene with Fiona and Mike, but didn’t really care for the last bit as much. Mostly because everyone hates the idea of her cutting their hair and this is supposed to be funny, even to her? Like...I don’t know. It just falls flat for me.

—

Scene 30: Rosemary is a bad influence

Rosemary asks Elizabeth how the meeting went. They talk about the fact that Lucas and his mother are nothing alike and Rosemary says, “Well maybe he’s like his father.”

Elizabeth is like “Let’s hope not.”

And of course that gets the ball rolling. Before long, the truth is out: Helen’s husband left her.

Elizabeth really should have...shut her mouth lol. But at least Rosemary believes that’s a bad position for Elizabeth to be in.

Lee comes in with Jack wearing a little outfit...

And then the truth comes out that what’s in the crate is a LOT of coffee. 250lbs of it.

—

Scene 31: Bill and Molly Talk...sort-of.

Bill chases Molly out of the cafe and insists they talk about what happened the night before, and Molly says she made a fool of herself. Bill tries to figure things out by saying he’s been a bachelor for a long time (probably trying to ease into it by admitting he just hadn’t realized she was Interested because he’s not used to the whole thing, to take some pressure off you know?) and Molly stops him like, “Are you under the impression that I’m interested in you as a suitor?”

Bill is more or less like, well...yes (but I wasn’t alone in that thought).

Molly tells him she was curious about the woman with whom he was dining. “True, I have mentioned to Florence that it might be nice getting to know each other seeing as how we’ve lived in the same town for years...”

Bill: “Well, see? You are interested in me.”

Molly: “You flatter yourself.”

She then leaves.

Anyone who knows me will know why I don’t like this scene lol, but at least neither character is being made a fool of, here. Pretty sure Molly is both curious and jealous.

—

Scene 32: Henry’s tirade

I think they should have rerecorded this scene because it 100% sounds like Henry is drunk off his ass and not just angry. More punctuated words would have fixed this easily.

Anyway, Carson comes by the mercantile just in time to see Henry yelling at Ned and Florence about the letter (but specifically Ned). Henry sees Carson come in and leaves, but falls outside. His blood pressure is ridiculously high. Outside, the acting is fine and he sounds angry (but deflating).

“Sometimes what you do in between [birth and death] just isn’t enough.”

This makes me really curious about that leTTER... It almost has to be a personal matter: family, perhaps?

—

Scene 33: The Confession

Elizabeth runs into Nathan while she’s out with Sergeant and they talk about Bill’s land. Nathan’s very enthusiastic about the land and the idea of living there.

LOOK AT HIM.

This is probably the most animated we’ve seen him!

(I think this talk of land and building on it might be forcing her to think of Jack, by the way. They already have the profession in common and now the land/planning for the future thing, too? A future she never got to have with Jack? OOF.)

I think at this point she’s worried that he wants to do this FOR HER and the guilt is what prompts her to speak. She goes on to tell him that he means a lot to her, and so does Allie, but she thinks he’s looking for more than friendship.

He says he wasn’t trying to hide that, and she thanks him for his honesty. She goes to express that he wants more from her than she can give. He was shot that one time when she thought it had been him who died, and she can’t go through that for real, not again. She doesn’t want to lose him the way she lost Jack.

He says he wouldn’t let that happen and she gets (RIGHTFULLY!) upset because that isn’t something he can meaningfully promise, and it’s pretty insulting considering the way Jack died; he isn’t better than Jack, after all. Anything could happen.

So Nathan says that his solution, what makes his promise different, is that he would quit the Mounties.

And she says, “No!”

Then we get the lines:

Nathan: I know you feel the same way that I do.

Elizabeth: I can’t.

Nathan: Elizabeth, I’m in love with you!

Elizabeth leaves hurriedly on Sergeant and that’s the end of the episode.

—

I don’t want to end this without talking about the last scene a bit. I think some people might be a bit confused about it. I think she has feelings for Nathan and has been repressing them because it’s too scary a thing to consider. She wants to let the idea go but knew she couldn’t just cut things off without saying anything.

But how do you say something like that kindly? How do you do that without hurting feelings or looking stupid?

I feel like the talk about the land, as well as Nathan’s comment earlier in the episode about settling down, has forced Elizabeth to be honest with Nathan the way that she is honest in her writing, and she does this specifically because she doesn’t want Nathan to go making decisions based on feelings for, or a potential future with, her. It isn’t fair to Nathan or Allie.

For those of us who haven’t lost a spouse traumatically, I don’t think it’s easy to understand this specific brand of anxiety/fear, but this episode made it really clear that this is something she’s really struggling with. The heart wants what it wants, but it also feels fear sometimes (and in this case, rightfully so).

Nathan offering to quit was wonderful but I think it would frighten Elizabeth just as much to feel she’s the cause for someone giving up something they’re passionate about. I personally think she’s thinking too much of Jack when it comes to that. Sure, Nathan’s a Mountie, and sure, he likes his job and is good at it like Jack was, but I think for Nathan family and safety would always come first.

It didn’t come first for Bill. It didn’t come first for Jack. But it would for Nathan. I don’t think Elizabeth realizes this—that for Nathan this isn’t him giving up his passion for love (or to settle down). It’s settling down because he wants to make a life here for himself and doesn’t want to ever have to leave, a choice he won’t get if he stays with the Mounties

For Jack, the Mounties were a Calling, a lifelong passion.

For Nathan, they were a career he enjoyed.

I’m interested to see when this will be revealed in the story and how that will make Elizabeth feel. No matter what, it’s scary to be the person ‘forcing’ someone else to give up something big, in this case Nathan’s livelihood (in exchange for her peace of mind). I have some personal experience with this. In fact, when I was dating my (now-)husband for the first time, he wanted to move to be with me. We were young. He had a college picked out. He had a career path. I had a job doing physical labor and I was living at home. If he needed help, my family would be too poor to assist and we had no extra space for him to stay. I refused. We actually broke up over it. There’s just so much pressure on the person who isn’t giving something up: fear of feeling indebted to someone, fear of the relationship HAVING to work out (or it was a waste of everyone’s time and money)...

Anyway, this storyline could mean a lot to me if it’s done right, so...I hope it is. :)

—

Overall this was another enjoyable episode. I was shocked at the intensity of the ending, and pleasantly surprised by most of the rest of it. Fiona’s actually growing on me as a character (she’s made of sterner stuff than some of them). I’m definitely looking forward to next week and I hope you are too!

My only real criticism so far, other than the ones outlined above, is the sheer number of scenes. I think it might be...a bit much. Almost...scattered? But we’ll see how they do in future episodes.

Feel free to message me with any thoughts/opinions/et cetera. ♥

#when calls the heart #analysis and meta discussion #character studies and information #long post

8 notes · View notes

fifteenleads · 4 years ago

Text

amīcitia

Chaos amidst order, like fire burning water itself.

All in all, a dire situation, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in sheer madness.

His grip on the floating plank tightens, willing his weakened biceps to work with him, even as the rest of his submerged body shakes in earnest in the freezing river water below. The dark clouds overhead thicken as lightning strikes the distant altar; the Hydraean is not pleased with Ryuunosuke, and the result of that displeasure is the destruction of Altissia.

While First Secretary Ango had promised protection for the Oracle for the Rite of the Summoning, he did not extend the same to the fallen Prince and his deplorable retinue, who will actually face the Trial and receive the Astral's blessing for it. It was an unfair deal Ryuu accepted, regardless— nothing else mattered to him, so long as his betrothed is kept safe.

A laughable sentiment— Ryuu never considers Lady Kouyou as anything but an estranged older sister, yet he remains utterly devoted to her, nonetheless. Their shared grief over the loss of Kyouka during the Siege of Tenebrae had bonded them in a twisted but tragic understanding to do everything it takes to survive.

It was the only principle Ryuu swore to live by as they embarked on their journey to reclaim Lucis from the Empire— his last order to them, in fact, before everything began and went to hell.

An order, it seems, he won’t be able to see through to the end, as Imperial soldiers stare him down, like vicious hunters to helpless game, trapped without any form of escape.

Osamu considers his limited options at this point— the most logical one would be to swim away, let himself get swept by the unnaturally strong current down the major canals into the open bay. Ango had mentioned something about boats in the briefing; maybe he could commandeer one of them and make his way to the altar post-haste. The other, more impulsive one, is to muster the little strength left in his thin, untrained arms, and teach these glorified lapdogs a lesson in humility for daring to underestimate a half-dead Crownsguard with only raw intellect and an uncanny secretarial experience to show for it.

To be fair, though, he did take combat training with Kunikida seriously— or, at least, as much as what was expected of him at bare minimum. Those lectures on ‘ideals’ and ‘expectations’ didn’t rub off him as much as they both would have wanted, but who needed physical prowess when he had aptitude for harnessing the King's magic?

That sentiment now bites him hard in the back, with the King long-dead and the Prince, too, now feared dead. ‘Don’t blame me when you’re all alone out there, Dazai.’

A small voice in his head tells him to just let go of the plank and let himself sink— a lot easier for everyone, by far.

Osamu levels his would-be executioners with an unnaturally serene gaze. With more than half of the city destroyed by Divine Wrath and the remainder plunged in utter chaos, it wouldn’t be surprising if a member of the Lucian Prince’s entourage winds up dead or permanently incapacitated at this point. Atsushi would probably sense it— he did always have the strongest affinity with the Armiger, probably more than its actual owner, Ryuu himself. Kunikida, who’s always had his back since they were children, would just know — theirs was an unconventional partnership, enough to overturn propriety and station twice over, and then some.

And Ryuunosuke— His Royal Highness, whom he is tasked to protect and mentor— Osamu feels genuine regret at the prospect of leaving his young charge to face the rest of his life alone, all because of a fleeting moment of cowardice. He had been looking forward to teasing Ryuu at his wedding as one of the royal groomsmen, too, but that certainly isn’t happening now.

He closes his eyes and lets go, one finger at a time. Everything around him slows down— the rumble of explosives, the clap of thunder, the sound of gunfire, then—

— the shrill of a drawn blade, followed by two thuds and a loud splash, and Osamu feels himself being pulled to safety and roughly thrown onto the pavement. He barely has time to process the dead soldiers beside him before he feels a strong kick to his gut.

“I’ve always heard that the brat Prince’s shady advisor is an impossible man, but I never expected him to be this much of a mess,” intones a cocky, nasal voice from above him. Osamu looks up at his unwilling savior by instinct, and instantly resists the temptation to laugh. It seems that the rumors about the High Commander of the Imperial Army being a Napoleon are actually quite accurate, after all.

Osamu immediately rises to his full height, dispensing with any courteous gestures right off the bat; his head bows and knee bends to no one else but his own Liege. “I suppose this is the part where I express my deepest gratitude for saving this worthless life, Lord Chuuya Kashimura Nakahara, High Commander of the Imperial Army of Niflheim, First Prince of the Imperial Province of Tenebrae, younger brother to Lady Kouyou Tokutarou Ozaki, Venerable Oracle of the Six.” He cocks his head to a side, as if to ask if he had missed anything.

The recitation of his full title elicits the desired effect, and Lord Chuuya comes at him with full force, roughly grabbing Osamu by his dress collar and yanking him down to his level. “Do not speak Sister’s name with that plummy voice of yours, Lucian scum. It is your royal brat’s selfishness and naivete that brought her into this whole mess.”

A mess which, until now, he still has yet to forgive, Osamu does not say, looking directly into those clear eyes, blue as the sky, yet burns brightly like fire. For a moment, he thinks he is looking into Lady Kouyou’s eyes, deep red as the sunset, yet calms gently like water. It is the only differing trait between the two half-siblings, as they share everything else like copies of each other, from the bright salmon of their hair to the sharp angle of their jaw, down to the unwavering pride with which they carried themselves as heirs to the Royal House of Tenebrae, even as they were abruptly orphaned, deposed, and held captive as political prisoners, acting in the interests of the Empire against their will.

Lord Chuuya, it seems, still retains that fire of rebellion within him, just as Lady Kouyou still holds the quiet spark of revolution close to her heart. It makes Osamu relieved, in all honesty— ‘He still holds you in high regard, Your Majesty.’

“What are you grinning about, Advisor?” The Crusading Prince spits out at him, his voice dropping several octaves as the grip on his collar tightens in all earnest. Osamu widens the space between his lips a little further in response, before finally deigning to reply, “Nothing at all, Your Highness. I am merely amused at how the Imperial Raiment hardly suits your frame at all.” There is no lie in this, either; the stiff, white robes marking one to be from the Empire are made to appear large and imposing— neither of which befits Lord Chuuya’s lithe form at all. Still, he manages to make it work, somehow, and make the outfit his own, in more ways than one.

There is a short silence as Lord Chuuya considers his words, before Osamu feels the tight sensation around his throat loosen and he remembers to breathe once more. “Enough of this farce. We merely waste time here,” the Prince huffs indignantly before brusquely turning in the other direction. “You are coming with me, Lucian Advisor. We find my Sister and that royal brat of yours.”

Lord Chuuya does not give Osamu time to assent, instead trudging ahead along the ruined walkway, angrily kicking the stones along the path. Osamu could sense palpable anger from his hunched form, and the growing urgency and desperation from beneath it. He is reminded of Kunikida’s forcefulness for a moment, and it makes him want to hold on to his life just a little longer for now.

‘You must survive,’ Ryuunosuke had told each of them, coal eyes burning with grief and rage as they watched Insomnia be consumed from the far outside, with no way back in. ‘Promise me.’

“As you wish, Your Highness.” Osamu puts his hands in his pockets, slowly moving forward until he falls into step with Lord Chuuya. Time, too, flows normally once more— the rush of the river current, the crackle of boots on gravel, the howling of a far-away tempest, then—

— a slight pause, followed by a deal to start a partnership, as unconventional as the last. A temporary truce, too, for so long as they have loved ones they cherish and wish to keep safe. “If we’re doing this properly, Your Highness, you might want to know your companion’s name as early as now, just so we can coordinate our attacks properly later, should the need arise.” Osamu follows with a smirk, for added measure— surely, someone who serves in the military should recognize the benefit of the practical suggestion.

Lord Chuuya merely raises an eyebrow incredulously. “What the hell are you talking about? Of course I know your name, Osamu Dazai,” he says in a much more relaxed tone, the sudden use of informal language momentarily throwing Osamu for a loop. A snort leaves his lips before he could stop himself, which soon blows into low, controlled chuckles as he turns away, clutching his sides with one hand and covering his mouth with the other.

Annoyance creeps into the Prince’s voice once more as he questions the sudden fit. “What’s so funny, Dazai?” It takes Osamu a full minute to calm down as he wipes tears of laughter from his eyes. “Nothing at all, Your Highness— or, should I call you Nakahara instead?” he offers, as if to return the unexpected courtesy granted him.

There is hesitation in Lord Chuuya’s stilted movements as he raises a hand to the back of his head, absentmindedly threading the long, red mane there, still dripping wet from the rescue earlier. “... Call me ‘Chuuya’,” he asks instead, looking away, a slight flush on his cheeks. “Only the Niffs call me Nakahara. It makes me feel… quite uncomfortable.”

‘Do forgive him his rudeness,’ Lady Kouyou had apologized for him long before. ‘He is actually quite a gentle child.’

Osamu smiles at the memory, noting all of these things in Chuuya and more. ‘Indeed, he is. You must be proud of him, Princess Kouyou.’

It was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen, befitting only her alone: ‘I indeed am.’

“Very well, Chuuya, since you doth insist so much,” Osamu complies, raising his tone to that of the plummy impersonation the Napoleon Prince hates so much, “but blame me not if I end up calling you names you might dislike. Consider yourself warned.”

The well-placed taunt elicits the desired effect, and Osamu merrily skips on ahead, effortlessly dodging Chuuya’s attempts to stick his daggers into his back. It’s a much easier feat than drowning himself, by far, and surviving seems a lot more bearable now.

Hope amidst despair, like sunlight dispelling the darkness.

All in all, a fortunate circumstance, Osamu muses. He means not to wax poetic, but there is a certain beauty, too, in subdued contentment.

#bungou stray dogs #soukoku #skk #dachuu #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #final fantasy xv AU #episode ignis AU #ignis!dazai #ravus!chuuya #first meeting #platonic / romantic compliant

14 notes · View notes

teliangel · 5 years ago

Text

As If It Meant Something

Author’s note: I’m back, here to make everyone feel terrible things once again. This time we’re buckling down and experiencing the events of the terrible Princeit relationship from Remus’ perspective cause Reflections wrecked me, so if I have to suffer, you do too :)

@tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors thank you for making this monstrosity a possibility, ily so come scream with me.

PLEASE NOTE, if you haven’t read LAOFT this isn’t gonna make a lick of sense, so go read that, get emotionally steamrolled, then come back to be emotionally sucker punched by this slugger.

TWs: Remus typical violence, abusive relationships, thinking fondly of an abuser, contemplation of murder, grief handled poorly, jealously handled equally poorly, hurt with no comfort (again)

Parings: Remus/Deceit, Roman/Deceit, brief LAMP mention

Remus was in love.

It had been love at first sight, instantaneous and intense, like most things were for him. But from the first revel he had attended, left to his own devices but not the least bit shy for it, his eyes had unavoidably landed on the king, and in the span of a second he was completely smitten. But the king was the king, and he was an unremarkable Summer aside from being remarkably annoying to most, so getting close enough to share what he felt was a vital declaration of devotion was nigh on impossible. So he watched. He had thought he might like to dance at his first revel, or pester some pixies, or get into whatever the clusters of unseelie were involved in, but he found he'd rather gouge his eyes out than look away from the king. He was polished and regal and perfect, and Remus wanted to look at him for forever.

But the revel had to end at some point, and then he was flocked by simpering fae paying their dues. Remus was terrible at being patient, and the impulse to tear through the bodies between him and the king was nearly unbearable, but if he made too much of scene then he'd be done away with before he could even get close, and while being offed while looking at that beautiful, beautiful face sounded blissful, he really would like to talk to the other boy first. Eventually the king stepped down from the dais and off into the shadows, devoured by them like he was made of the same stuff, and Remus followed him in what was probably a complete breach of protocol. He never was good at remembering the rules, and he cared even less about the ones he did remember. And then he was crowded up in the king's space, the other boy's brow pinched in all too familiar irritation, a confession spilling from his lips like blood from a fresh stab wound. He started and he couldn't stop, words running into each other until he was completely uncertain if he was making any sense whatsoever, and the king's expression slowly shifted from frustration to shock to amusement. And then he was laughing, so hard and bright that Remus stopped speaking immediately just to listen to the sound in dumbfounded pleasure. Surely no one has heard such a genuine laugh from the king before because he couldn't imagine anyone being able to be afraid of him if they had. The thought made him feel like he had swallowed the whole damn sun and it was burning bright in his belly. Then the king had asked for his name and he had given it, because there wasn't a single part of himself he wouldn't offer up if only the king would laugh like that again.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus had never hated anyone with the intensity that he hated Roman. Honestly, he hadn't known he had it in him to hang onto any one feeling aside from his love for Dee for longer than a breath, but here he was, broiling in his own rage. By the sun and stream and all things rotting, who did that human think he was? Riding into the revel on the king's horse like he had any right to be there, and staying plastered to the boy's side all night like some unfairly pretty leech. It made Remus want to break something or set something on fire or gut the human and strew his entrails from one end of the woods to the other and- Well. It upset him. Which was why he was out pacing instead of at the court, because if he saw the bastard's face, if Dee so much as smiled at him, he was liable to do something drastic and Dee would get angry. And it didn't help they looked so alike, slight distortions of each other, like brothers with different fathers. Was this how humans felt about changelings? The invasive same but not the same, the feeling of something replaced, an unfair exchange? If it was he could understand why the sensation would drive a mother to stab a fae child with a hot iron poker. The worst part, though, was how betrayed he felt. There was no doubt in his mind that Dee loved him, even if he never said as much. Remus was the one who was so effusive with the word love that he got stuck on it sometimes, repeating himself over and over, increasingly frantic with the thought that it might not come across right, that Dee might not believe him, until the king would laugh and shut him up. But he knew. He knew Dee loved him. Who else would he tell his secrets to, who else would he be calm and relaxed with? No one but Remus. And Remus knew he was a lot to handle, that everyone thought he was awful and disgusting, but that made him all the more sure Dee loved him because why would he put up with him otherwise?

But if Dee had brought this human back with him then that meant- that might mean-

No. He didn't believe it.

It had to be the witch's fault (for he knew the other boy was a witch, he could smell it on him like burning hair and bonfires), he had some sort of spell or charm placed on Remus' love. Well, he wouldn't be fooled. He saw the witch for what he was - an usurper, a substitute, a sham - and he wasn't having it. Roman had to be done away with. He'd have to be subtle, or Dee might get upset. He wasn't great at being subtle, though. The exact opposite, really. But everyone in court knew his brand of 'play', and if he accidentally loped off Roman's head, well whoopsie, things went like that sometimes! And that was if Dee didn't get bored first, which surely he would. Roman was just a boring old human who'd age and break with use. Remus was obviously better. He just had to wait for his love to come to the same conclusion. He wasn't a patient man by any means, but if it was for Dee, he could wait.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus was feeling . . . Something.

The feeling, whatever it was, didn't show up often, and he didn't pay much mind to it when it did. He liked straightforward things, easily defined and acted on, not feelings he couldn't articulate. But he couldn't sleep tonight, and was feeling unusually pensive, so he was rolling the something over in his mind like a worry stone. The crux of the feeling, the root of the strange thing, was that he didn't exactly hate Roman anymore. He wasn't sure when the change had taken place, when his not-so-subtle attempts to murder the witch turned to more playful pranks, when the mere sight of him stopped making Remus want to remove his eyes. Granted, they weren't lovers like he and Dee were (the mere thought of that caused a sense of revulsion that Remus rarely ever experienced), and they weren't friends either. And every time the king kissed Roman he still wanted to stab him in the neck or maybe strangle him- and not in the fun way. But . . . But on nights like tonight, when he and the human had sat on either side of Dee at the revel, wine and conversation flowing easily between them and the king's mood high . . . well. He felt . . . fond? Happy? He didn't know! But he didn't hate Roman anymore, and he hadn't even noticed it until after a long day the human had woken him up coming in far sooner than he had wanted to wake that night, and instead of throwing a rock or a knife at him like he would have in the past he simply twisted his hand and left the witch's hair in knots, the other boy squawking indignantly. And it kept happening. Sure, he still injured Roman from time to time (he was a biter, he could not help this), but the tone of their relationship had shifted, somehow. And he felt strange. He didn't think he'd be any more sad if Roman died now than when they'd first met. But it would make things odd. They were sort of balanced, like this. As bitter a taste as it left in Remus' mouth, Dee needed things from Roman that the Summer simply couldn't give. He'd never be so polished and charming and civil. But the things that scared Roman about Dee where the things that Remus loved most. And if Dee didn't have the two of them, who did he have? Remus was of the humble opinion that every living creature should worship the ground the king walked on, but they were all too chicken-shit to even look at him properly most of the time. So who would love Dee if not them? That made the something-feeling even more complicated. Remus hated overthinking things and waxing poetic about his feelings (he wasn't Roman) but lying here in the dark, listening to his king and the human breathing soft and deep, he seemed unable to stop. The worst thing about this sort of mood and the something-feeling was that it made him feel something spongy and oddly vulnerable in his chest, because it made him realize that Roman wasn't actually all that awful. Maybe- maybe if he had met him before Dee had taken the human on, or maybe if they had met in literally any way that wasn't him trying to steal his lover, or-or- He shook his head viciously to dispel the thought, freezing when Dee snuffled in his sleep before hunkering back down. Hypotheticals were the worst for making the feeling stronger. Because maybe, under other circumstances, they would have been friends. And maybe he'd prefer those hypotheticals, and that was worse. Because what did that mean? What did that say about them, and what they had, and Dee? What did it say about him? Nope, he didn't want to think about it, or the something-feeling. He flopped over with a frustrated grunt, burying his face in the king's shoulder and rubbing his nose along the scales that peppered it. He wanted things to be simpler, and the resentment towards Roman for complicating things was almost always simmering right beneath his skin.

But.

But maybe one day it wouldn't be like that? Maybe things would get simple again, and Roman wouldn't have to die for it to happen, either.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Remus was ecstatic.

He had been given a quest and it was going to fix everything. Finally he could prove himself to Dee, prove his dedication, and take back his rightful spot as the favored lover. He was nearly dizzy with the heady combination of delight and relief. The quest had settled on him with the reassuring weight of a down comforter, heavy and sweet. He nearly wept from it, as disgustingly sentimental as that was. This proved that Dee still had faith in him. That he trusted him to earn his place back. They both had an out now, one that didn't involve hurting Roman more than a little bit of heartbreak would. And, well, Remus wouldn't gloat too much when he succeeded. He knew how unpleasant it was to be unseated, to feel like you were loosing a lover. Maybe Dee could even be convinced to keep him as a knight! He was useful enough. The entirety of his life didn't have to be uprooted. And then they'd all live happily ever after and all that sappy shit.

Yes, this was perfect.

Everything was going to be okay.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing was okay.

Nothing was going to be okay ever again either. Remus' life was as good as over, dead and decomposing, without even a grave to mark its passing and- and-

And Dee was dead.

It couldn't be real. It didn't feel real. He couldn't have been gone for that long, not long enough for things to get that out of hand, and what was he going to do? Everything he'd ever done was pointless. It amounted to absolutely nothing now, and he shrieked into the night air with a lack of anything else to release the bubbling agonized thing burning in the back of his throat like bile. Roman was supposed to take care of their king while he was gone. Sure he wasn't as good as Remus, but he was competent enough, and loyal to a fault. Except he wasn't. He wasn't the man Remus thought he was at all, and he had spun back around to hating the witch more than anything on this earth. How could he? Dee had no one but them. No one who loved him, no one he could trust. There was Remus, and Roman, and that was it. And the second he was away the witch had pranced off to the next shiny thing. Hadn't he loved Dee at all? Remus had. Did. He thought the sun rose and set at the king's feet, thought all the flowers bloomed just to bask in his light, and Remus was built up around his every desire and would gladly rip himself apart tooth and nail for him and- And there was nothing. He had come back to nothing. His room in the court taken by another, his seat at the throne replaced by three for a witch a human and another seelie, his treasures meant for Dee -as proof of his love- taken by his replacement. All he had now was a bird singing at his shoulder and chest so full of unnameable feeling that he wasn't sure how it wasn't bursting through his bones and flesh, rending him open in a bloody mess. Because oh, he was bleeding. But there was no wound. Nothing to stitch together or slap a poultice on. Just carnage that had no exit mark. Remus crumpled over on the dew soaked grass beneath him. He didn't know where he was, nor did he much care at the moment. Maybe he'd get up soon and do something useful like set something on fire or pull the wings off a pixie. But for now he curled up on the ground and wept for everything that could never be fixed. And as his feathery companion settled on his head, her beak ruffling and preening his disheveled hair, he could almost imagine it was fingers tugging knots free as soft words were exchanged above his head. He could pretend he was in his old room, the revel just outside whenever he was ready to go back.

He could afford to pretend for just a little while longer. After all, no one was looking for him now.

#laoft #tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors #sanders sides #tw violence #tw abuse #tw unhealthy relationship #tw unhealthy coping mechanisms #tw hurt with no comfort #who wants to get back on the angst train with me since apparently I never get off?#questionable writing

85 notes · View notes

lilibetts · 5 years ago

Photo

for Tricks and Treats of Riverdale Theme # whichever freaking one involves spooky shit like possession or whatever.

“So, what are you going to be for Halloween, Jughead?”

It was the question Jughead dreaded the most, especially coming from Betty.

He had just gotten an afterschool job at the Twilight Drive-In and he’d been working as many hours as he possibly could on top of school and babysitting Jellybean to afford costumes for both of them. But then it turned out they were behind on the phone bill, so he spent most of his money to make sure it was paid up through the next month.

“Uh, it’s a surprise. What about you, Betty? Are you going as Nancy Drew again this year?”

She bit her lip and looked down at her shoes. “No, I decided to change things up now that we’re in high school. So I’m going as a medieval princess, kind of like Game of Thrones but not character-specific.”

Jughead was sure her choice had absolutely nothing to do with how last month Archie had announced he was going as a medieval knight. Then their indecisive friend had changed his mind and picked Spider-Man after Veronica Lodge wouldn’t stop waxing poetic about how yummy Tom Holland was.

“Cool. I guess I’ll see you later tonight?”

“You’d better!” Betty chirped, pontytail swishing violently as she skipped away. She didn’t mean that as anything more than her usual staunch commitment to kindness and friendship. And Betty was friendly with virtually everyone. Jughead sighed miserably as he watched her turn off towards her home.

Ah, the pangs of unrequited love.

He had been living with his crush on Betty Cooper for the better part of four months, which was an eternity in the timespan of a fourteen-slash-fifteen year old boy. And he’d keep living with his crush until it granted him mercy and faded. Or he died of old age.

Whichever came first.

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

Betty stood before her bed, staring down at the costume she’d bought when she thought she would complement Archie’s own, and felt monumentally stupid. What if Archie hadn’t changed his mind and she showed up in this medieval princess gown? She’d look obvious. Everyone would be snickering behind her back about Betty Cooper and her pathetic crush on Archie Andrews.

There was no way she could do this.

Pulling down the ladder, Betty headed up into the attic and started going through the boxes, looking for something radically different that she could pull together at the last minute. It was in an old trunk of her mom’s that she found it: a black leather jacket. It was the last thing she expected her mom to have ever owned but her curiosity was dashed by the figurative lightbulb going off above her head.

“Yes!”

Back there, on the clothes rack, there’d been...yes, Polly’s Homecoming dress from last year! It was long, just a shade off-white, and perfect.

Crushes made teenage girls do stupid things, that was true, but that only made moments of determined defiance like this all the more sweeter.

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

“That...is not a medieval princess.”

Jughead took in her outfit with raised eyebrows.

“Well spotted, Jughead.” She smiled even as she rolled her eyes at him. “For your information I am Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It’s actually perfect because her name is Buffy Anne and Buffy is a variation of Elizabeth and—”

“—and your middle name is Ann.”

“I didn’t think you remembered my middle name, Juggie.”

“Well I do. Not much escapes this steel trap here.” He rapped his knuckles against his forehead. “Interesting prop you have there, Buffy Cooper.”

She held the wooden stake aloft. “I didn’t have a crossbow lying around, but I did find enough in the garage to fashion myself a stake.” Then she looked him up and down. “You do look rather dashing, Sir Juggie.”

She didn’t mention that his costume had been Archie’s first, one of the many acts of charity from the Andrews family. He was mostly grateful that Betty had changed hers, so that he didn’t seem obviously, pathetically in love with her by matching.

They were two years too young for couples costumes.

And y’know...not actually together.

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

Betty wasn’t entirely aware of it happening. One moment, she was laughing and crossing the street with Jughead, Archie, and Veronica, surrounded by dozens of other trick-or-treaters, the next she was holding her stake at the ready and keeping a careful eye on the four year-old vampire hissing as he ran at a shrieking fairy.

She managed to fly away and the baby vamp’s mother grabbed ahold of him. “I VANT TO SUCK YOUR BLOOD! I VANT! I VANT!” He screeched as he kicked and struggled in vain to free himself.

A woman stood in the middle of the street, hysterically crying as she cradled a giant halved avocado.

Demons, small skeletons, and ghouls of all sorts were running after confused and terrified adults, only for their attacks to be thwarted by a legion of mini superheros. A tiny Captain America with a star-spangled tutu flung her shield at a troll and knocked it out cold.

A bear wearing a blue-and-gold letterman jacket charged down the street and the strange boy crouched next to her...who was apparently Spider-Man...leaped away, slinging webs at the houses as he went. The bear continued to chase him and so Buffy shrugged and turned her attention to the zombies lumbering at a group of scared parents.

No sooner had she slammed one down into the concrete than a dashing knight with a black and gold cape and a sword came to her rescue and dispatched the second zombie. The third found himself floating in the air helplessly while a raven-haired girl with glasses, some kind of private-school uniform, and a purple/black tie pointed a wand at it.

Buffy spun her stake with her fingers and addressed the dark-haired knight wearing, of all things, a gray crown beanie. “Thanks. I’m not usually the damsel type, even if I’m frequently distressed. But if knights in shining armor look like you, then feel free to rescue me anytime.”

“You wouldn’t need to ask, my lady.” The knight bowed low. “If I may ask, what are you called?”

“Me? I’m Buffy Summers.”

“I wouldn’t dare be so familiar. I shall call you Lady Elizabeth.”

Buffy shrugged. “I don’t think anyone’s ever called me a lady, but sure, let’s go with that. And what do they call you, Mr. Tall, Dark, and Delicious?”

“Prince Forsythe Pendleton Jones, the third.”

She whistled. “Sounds like a mouthful.”

He sheathed his sword and gave her a wink and a charming smile. Butterflies erupted in Buffy’s stomach, and for once, it wasn’t monster-related cramps.

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

Prince Forsythe could hardly tear his eyes away from the strange woman who looked like a princess and yet fought the droves of warped creatures at his side like a warrior. She was clever and very forward.

“You know,” she said after sending a werewolf flying into some nearby bushes. “It’s kind of a thing around these parts for two warriors to share a kiss after emerging victorious in battle.”

Very forward.

After growing up around the palace and the constraints upon behavior between men and women, Forsythe found Buf- Lady Elizabeth refreshing. “That could be arranged, my lady.”

He tapped the pommel of his sword against the mangled gray skull of...hell, he didn’t have the faintest clue what that being was. But small as it was, it kept growling and trying to eat someone’s pet dog.

The witch with the indecent dress length stuck her finger in the air. “Merlin’s Beard, I’ve got it! I know who the Dark Lord is that’s casted a spell on all of us! You two, hold them off while I duel with Mr. Honey. You! Ginger girl with the candelabra? Keep on running across the lawns, lead the rest of them away!”

Forsythe twisted around and spotted the lady with flowing red locks and an elaborate nightrail, rushing across the green holding a three-pronged candlestick aloft.

Lady Elizabeth turned back to him. “FYI, I better be the only one you’re My Lady-ing, because I’m definitely a one-prince woman.” She executed a peculiar spinning kick that was all lethal grace and a sinister red-horned devil became entangled in an enormous spider’s web.

“Of course!” He shot back, insulted that she would think so low of him. “I’m no scoundrel!”

When Lady Elizabeth smiled at him then, it was as if the dark clouds that always followed him had parted, and there shone the sun.

They dispatched the last of the hostile creatures, with the assistance of other tiny, brightly colored warriors, and one very small princess with no qualms about using her scepter as a hammer.

The battle finished, Forsythe drove his sword into the ground and curled his arms around his Lady Buffy, dipping her backwards in a hard and exuberant kiss.

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

Buffy curled her arms around her prince in gray beanie and kissed him back just as enthusiastically. Had she ever had a kiss like this before? Maybe it’d just been so long because of the pressures of being a Slayer. It was hard to have a normal dating life when you had to vanquish the forces of evil every other week, and then pass pop quizzes.

His lips were so soft against hers, and she felt the tingling all the way down to her toes. Betty gasped against Jughead’s lips, her head feeling strangely fuzzy all of the sudden.

She froze.

Jughead’s lips?

Her eyes flew open, only to see equally startled blue ones staring back at her.

They sprang apart, gaping at each other as they tried to make sense of what had just happened. Betty wasn’t sure how to feel about this development—maybe she was still half in love with Archie, but right now she didn’t exactly feel horrified that she’d kissed Jughead Jones and liked it. A lot.

Jughead didn’t look grossed out either.

They were still staring at each other when Veronica came storming out of a yellow craftsman house down the street, fuming. “Honestly, if you’re going to go around calling yourself ‘Mr. Honey’ that’s pretty much a giant advertisement that the one thing that’ll defeat you is summoning a spray of vinegar!”

Archie limped over to them, mask in hand and his costume torn in several spots. An embarrassed Moose Mason, shirtless save for his ripped jeans and letterman jacket, was a few paces behind.

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

Jughead was doing his best to not be too hopeful about the shy smiles Betty was shooting his way even as they were joined by their friends. Even Cheryl, who glared at them as she stomped past.

“Oh, Bettykins,” Veronica murmured, hugging her best friend. “I’ll never make fun of you and your love of sleuthing ever again.”

“Vindication!” Betty playfully hissed out.

Archie groaned. “I don’t know about you guys, but I think I’ve had enough of tricks. Let’s go back to mine and treat ourselves to more greasy pizza and fizzy pop.”

Everyone else readily agreed and they started the trek back to the Andrewses. Jughead fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called his mom to check in on her and Jellybean. Both were fine, but his mom was exhausted from chasing ‘Jelly-cat’ all over the Southside.

One block away from Elm street, Betty dropped behind the other three and linked arms with him. Something fluttered in his chest when she grinned over at him.

“So, Prince Forsythe, any regrets about your choice of costume?”

“You know, all things considered, I have to say none at all, Lady Buffy. And you?”

“I don’t know, I have a feeling I’d still have kicked ass as Princess Elizabeth of House Cooper,” she mused.

“No question about it. Shall we, my badass lady? I’ll share a cheese pizza with you.”

“Have more romantic words ever been spoken?” Betty giggled, her arm tightening in his. “Lead on, my brave prince.”

All in all, it wasn’t that bad of a Halloween. Everyone was mad at the Daeneryses who had ordered their tiny dragons to burn a bunch of the candy (and some houses). The mayor blamed the incident on hallucinogenic drugs being leaked into the water system. Veronica did not handle the lack of recognition for her efforts well. Archie and Moose winced whenever the word ‘bear’ were so much as mentioned.

And Betty? Starting the following Monday at school, she started waiting at the corner of Dillon and Main for him, so they could walk the rest of the way together.

Maybe hope wasn’t just for fools after all, even ones named Jughead Jones.

#bughead fanfiction #bughead #riverdaleevents #avarosier writes

83 notes · View notes

ghostofviperwrites · 5 years ago

Text

New Blood

Requested by: @i-ship-it-okay

Pairing: Seiya Sanada/FC

Category: Smut/

Warnings: Smut, language

51. How should I know her last name? I don’t know her first name!

“Seiya!” Bushi called across the crowded cafeteria catching his stablemate’s attention. As well as that of the rest of the people spread throughout, a mixture of wrestlers and office staff, as Bushi definitely wasn’t being quiet in his question to get Sanada's attention.

“What?” Sanada asked breaking from his conversation with Kazuchika Okada to look over his shoulder at Bushi.

“Who was that girl from the other night?” Bushi asked.

“You’ll have to be more specific.” Sanada said his expression showing he was clueless as to who Bushi was talking about.

“The girl from the club?” Bushi asked impatiently.

“Again. You’ll have to be more specific. There are a lot of girls from a lot of clubs.” Sanada retorted earning a few chuckles around the room.

“The girl with the short black hair, and the bangs? The one you fucked against the wall. What was her last name?” Bushi continued after seeing a flicker of recognition on Sanada’s face.

“How should I know her last name? I don’t know her first name!” Sanada scoffed turning back to Okada with an annoyed shaking of his head as Bushi gave up trying to get what he was looking for and turned back to Desperado to continue the conversation without knowing the girl’s name. He could still tell the story even without the details he usually liked to give.

“So disgusting. They think that’s attractive? Just hooking up with random sluts all the time.” Sanada’s head popped up as a group of interns walked past his table, his attention focusing on the pretty girl with an absolute look of derision on her face as she walked past. Seeing she had his attention she sneered and pointedly turned her head away, nose stuck in the air. Sanada rolled his eyes with a grin. As if that was going to deter him. She really should have just minded her own business. Instead she had put herself firmly on his radar.

Pushing her from his mind for the time being, Sanada tuned back into Okada’s ramblings about his latest sports car. The man collected cars like Sanada fucked women. Don’t get him wrong, Sanada liked a nice fast vehicle, but that was the extent of it. Okada could wax poetic about cars for hours, from their paint jobs to the engines, there wasn’t a detail he would gloss over. Really he could only listen to Okada ramble on for so long.

Rising abruptly Sanada clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You’re boring the shit out of me.” He said with a smile leaving an annoyed Okada staring after him as he left the cafeteria.

Sanada didn’t really care. Okada would get over it. For now he had a fresh new intern to find and put in her place. She was probably floating around HR somewhere for first day orientation. By the time he was done with her she wouldn’t need it. She would be out the door and on her ass. Sanada strolled casually through the building hallways checking out some of the new office hires. It had been a bit since he had been down this way. He tended to avoid the corporate side as much as possible. Poaching the office talent was more Naito’s thing. In fact, the last time he had been in this neck of the woods was when they were supposed to have a meeting with the head of HR. Instead he and the rest of LIJ had walked in on Naito fucking Manamie Hino over her desk. Needless to say that meeting had been cancelled.

Speaking of…Sanada paused outside Manamie’s office head cocking to the side as he looked at her shapely rear as she bent over the filing cabinet. Taking a quick glance at his watch Sanada figured he had a few minutes for a detour, stepping into her office and quietly closing the door behind him and leaning against it. He almost laughed when Manamie screamed as she turned around and saw him, her hand flying to her chest as she tried to calm her racing heart.

“Sanada.” She said when she settled. “What are you doing in here?”

“Are you not happy to see me?” Sanada asked, mock hurt filling his tone. “It wasn’t too long ago you were ordering me to appear in your office.” Manamie swallowed nervously. Of course he wouldn’t forget that. She was stupid to think that little interlude with Naito would be the end of it.

“I didn’t order you.” Manamie said defensively. “I had a personnel matter that had to be dealt with. That is my job.”

“Is it your job to let Naito fuck you over your desk?” Sanada asked stepping away from the door. “Or is it your job to let me do the same?”

“I am not going to let you fuck me over my desk!” Manamie sputtered angrily.

“You sure about that?” Sanada taunted stepping towards her as she retreated. Her breath hitched as she looked into his eyes, seeing nothing but pure sexual desire in them that struck a chord deep inside her. It was almost hypnotic as he trapped her between his body and the desk, his groin pressing into hers as she felt how excited he was. Unbidden her hands moved to rest on his waist pulling him closer as her eyes drifted closed when his cock pressed against her core.

“You want me. You don’t need to fight it.” Sanada said softly, his fingers running through her hair. “I’ll make you feel so damn good. I promise you’ll cum all over my cock.” Manamie whimpered at his dirty words her legs already spreading to grant him access as Sanada’s hands moved to push her skirt up. Sanada’s thumb pressed into her clit making her gasp as he rubbed soft circles on the sensitive nub. Manamie clung to Sanada as he kissed along her neck, sucking on the collar bone as he fingered her pussy. A cry of disappointment rang through the office as he withdrew and stepped away from her.

“Turn around and bend over. Just like you did for Naito.” Sanada said unbuckling his pants and sliding them down, cock in hand as he stepped forward once Manamie was in position. Sanada rubbed his dick along her slit before pushing inside, stretching her as he entered. Sanada snapped his hips burying himself deep inside her before he began thrusting hard as Manamie pushed back against him, her hand reaching down to rub at her pussy moans and grunts filling the office as their bodies rushed towards completion. The desk scraped along the concrete floor from the force of his thrusts, breaths coming hard and heavy as sweat began dripping from his brow.

“Cum for me.” Sanada spat, his palm smacking down on her ass as Manamie screamed her pussy clenching around Sanada as his cock jerked, spurting his cum into her.

Breathing heavily Sanada stepped away pulling up his pants and straightening himself back up as Manamie slowly pushed herself up, her skirt falling back down her legs as she cursed herself for giving in to another of the damn Ingobernables. There was just some type of magnetism in each and every one of them that made them impossible to resist.

A knock on the door startled Manamie who scrambled to make herself presentable as Sanada opened the door without a care in the world. A sinister smile lit his features as the intern he had come to see was at the door, her nose crinkling as the obvious smell of sex wafted from the office. That look of derision from earlier, the one that had put her on Sanada’s radar in the first place, filled her face as she easily discerned what had happened in the locked office.

“Come in Yui, Sanada-sama was just leaving.” Manamie said trying to regain a sense of professionalism.

“No I wasn’t.” Sanada countered. “Yui was actually the reason I came over to your neck of the woods Manamie. I need to have a few words with her.” He fixed his cold stare on the impudent intern. “You don’t mind if I borrow your office for a bit, do you?” He asked solicitously as he grabbed Manamie’s elbow and guided her out, shutting the door in her face and locking it before she could get a word out. Turning to face Yui, Sanada brushed past her to take a seat in Manamie’s chair.

“I’m not falling for your stupid little tricks.” Yui said, her arms crossing stubbornly over her chest as she took a step towards the door. “I’ve heard about you and your little friends. Using women at your will then having them fired.”

“We don’t have them all fired.” Sanada smirked. “Look at Manamie. I have no intentions of getting her fired even after fucking her. Naito hasn’t fired her despite fucking her. She serves a purpose.” He looked Yui over with a sneer. “Impudent little interns on the other hand. Not so much. You are a dime a dozen.”

“You can go to hell.” Yui said with a sickly sweet smile. “I’m not staying in here for you to sexually harass. Take your pathetic little dick and find some other slut to pass your time with.” She felt triumphant for a blissful second, until she looked at Sanada who still had that damn smile on his face her insult rolling right off him.

“I don’t want another slut. At least not right now.” Sanada said plainly pushing himself to his feet. Yui watched warily as he rounded the desk, shock coursing through her when he moved to the door, pulling it open and gesturing for her to leave. Hesitation in every step Yui approached the door, keeping a close eye on his movements as she slipped out into the hallway. “You made a big mistake Yui. I was going to just fuck you and have you fired. Now you’ve upset me and I’m going to play some much more interesting games with you.”

Sanada walked away from Yui, leaving her watching as he walked down the hallway and out of the offices his words echoing through her mind as dread filled her as she wondered just what he meant by those words.

#sanada fanfic #sanada imagine #njpw fanfic #wrestling fanfic #mywriting #ghostofviperwrites

4 notes · View notes

raendown · 6 years ago

Link

Pairing: MadaraTobirama Chapter: 5/18 Word count: 1956 Summary: When Tobirama is exiled from the Senju clan without warning, without even the chance to plead his case, it feels like his life is over. What does he have to live for now without his older brother to believe in him? Captured by the Uchiha in his moment of weakness, Tobirama slowly learns to live again with the last people on earth he would have ever expected to care for - or to fall in love with.

Follow the link or read it under the cut!

KO-FI in the blog header!

Chapter 5

The seals on his wrists were hasty and clumsy, no sophistication in the symbols. They were drawn in the fashion of someone copying an image without truly knowing the meaning behind it. Someone in the Uchiha had clearly gotten their hands on some kind of chakra suppressant seal to use as an example but it was obvious that none here were masters of the art. Any self-respecting seal master would have cried themselves to sleep at just the thought of having their work bastardized as much as the mock cuffs that had been forced upon him the moment he woke up after his last visit from the two brothers.

Not to say that they didn’t work. Sophisticated or not the seals accomplished what they were meant to. He could feel his chakra seething just under the surface, boiling and rolling and crashing against the barrier they made like water breaks against a cliff, but they were sufficient to keep him from releasing anything and thus he remained powerless. Maybe if he hadn’t spent the last month motionless and flopping about on the floor letting his muscles atrophy then he might have been physically strong enough to think about another route for escape. Hindsight had always been a bitch.

All things considered, though, his situation wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been. He had expected his jailors to drive him hard with impossible tasks but Madara hadn’t lied when he talked about hauling laundry around. It earned him all sorts of different looks, from curious to barely concealed distaste, but he supposed he could understand that. He too would have stopped to stare upon seeing his ancestral enemy waltzing through the compound to go wash clothes in the little stream running through the western quadrant. Knowing he would have done the same did not stop him from making each trip with a stiff back and a constant frown of discomfort, hating the feeling of so many hostile eyes on his back. It seemed a miracle that no one had yet tried to attack him while he was vulnerable. Whether they refrained because Madara had warned them to leave him unharmed or whether they all simply enjoyed seeing him lowered to this state had yet to be determined.

Tobirama hurried back to the Head family home as quickly today as he had every morning for the past couple of weeks. Working for Madara wasn’t so bad as long as he was able to keep his pride in check. And doing that was easy enough when he reminded himself that he was literally nothing now, no clan name to back him, no authority to wield. Honest work was about the only option he had left, though if he had found honest work anywhere else he would certainly have expected to be paid for it, but even if he would hesitate to admit it he was grateful in a strange way for a break from the horrors of the battlefield. So far the work he had been given was mostly house chores and it was a novel thing not to wash blood from his skin at the end of every day.

Letting himself passed the front gate of Madara’s home, Tobirama first made his way around to the backyard to hang the clean clothing up to dry. When the line was full and his basket empty he went in through the back door, eyed the dishes in the sink, and then dismissed them in favor of wandering down the hall towards Madara’s office. Easy his duties might be but some of them were still abhorrent. That particular chore could wait until the end of the day when he could get rid of them all at once.

Madara’s office was cushier than his own workspace had been in the Senju compound, one corner of the room piled high with pillows in case the man was too tired to crawl down the hallway to his bedroom at night, the other wall lined with squat bookshelves and ancient weaponry hung like decorations above. Tobirama made his way straight towards the pillows to flop down and stare morosely at the man kneeling at his desk, right under the window where he could make full use of whatever daylight came filtering through the protective mesh screens.

“Done?” Madara asked, not lifting his gaze from whatever he was reading.

“Clearly,” Tobirama drawled in return. Then he sank further down in to the pillows and closed his eyes to sulk pointedly.

“Hmm, that was quick.”

“Didn’t feel quick. Why do your clothes always require extra scrubbing?”

Madara chuckled. “I make sure they’re extra dirty just to frustrate you.”

Even if he knew that wasn’t true, it still sounded enough like something he would do that Tobirama gave a low noise of disgust. Actually he had noticed it was really Izuna’s clothing that always took longer to clean and from the dirt stains in certain places he suspected a harsh training regimen as the culprit. He hadn’t yet found the courage to ask whether his rival had always trained this often or if it was a newly developed habit; he wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer. Was he supposed to feel guilty about how much damage the man could do in battle without himself there as a shield, an equal force to cancel out the deaths either of them were capable of causing in a single encounter?

As if sensing his thoughts spiraling downwards again, Madara grunted from across the room and Tobirama opened his eyes just in time to catch the scroll that had been tossed at his head.

“You’re supposed to be a genius, right? Here’s your next chore.”

When he opened it to find columns of messily scrawled numbers he lifted one eyebrow with conflicted reactions warring inside him.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to let the prisoner do your accounting?” he asked. Madara waved his question off with one hand, still engrossed in his own work.

“There’s no names on there to tell you who our suppliers are, no locations to give away. It’s just numbers. You’re a scientist, shouldn’t you be good at numbers?” The man shrugged carelessly. “Reckon the columns and you can take a break. Just make sure you’re back here to cook dinner.”

“Seriously?”

“Like I said: they’re just numbers. What harm could you do knowing how much we spent on food the past few months?”

Tobirama held his breath, unrolling the scroll to take a second look. There was a lot of damage he could cause with these numbers, actually. Many people would pay handsomely for even small information like this; he could think of a dozen different weaknesses he could assume from just food budgets alone. He would have liked to say he could buy his way back in to the Senju’s good graces by providing them with inside information but he wasn’t that stupid. They weren’t that easily bought, as much as he wished suddenly that they were. Since the scroll in his hands was as good a distraction as any against such musings he buried himself in the task given to him without complaint.

It was oddly nice to be given something to do that used his brain again after so long. Working out simple arithmetic wasn’t exactly a challenge but the routine calculations were time consuming and it was better mental exercise than wondering what he could add to his detergent that would make the laundry a little softer once it dried.

When the damnable seals had first been applied to his wrists and he realized Madara was serious about putting him to work he had thought perhaps they intended to take advantage of his mind. He’d been infamous from a young age for his genius and his knack for creating new jutsu, new weapons, and for the sealing skills he had cultivated with the aid of books sent to him by their Uzumaki allies. As much as he appreciated not being forced to bring those skills to bear in a war that would inevitably find its way to the people he once loved, household chores did get boring after a while. Being asked to help with the accounting was almost like Madara was granting him a treat for good behavior.

He avoided mentioning that in case the fool grew contrary and took it away.

Although it only took him twenty or so minutes to work through the entirety of the small portion he’d been given, Tobirama neglected to mention he was finished for another couple of minutes, taking an opportunity to quietly study the other man in the room. Madara was more of a mystery to him every day. The most Tobirama had ever known of him before was a screaming battle persona and the exaggerated memories Hashirama liked to wax poetic about every so often. He had expected his time under the man’s thumb to leave him bone-weary at the end of every day from bring run in to the ground with work; he had expected to be humiliated and degraded, to have his temper tried at every turn.

Reality was much harder to wrap his head around. Madara was calm in the moments between the never ending string of disasters that made up his life. For making such an impressive figure in battle he was incredibly goofy in everyday life. He woke with his hair sticking out at funny angles and walked in to walls before consuming his morning coffee. He sat down on pins the clan children left on his cushion and hung his body out the window to shout at them without a care for how it left his rump on comical display. He tripped on rocks and absently stabbed people with chopsticks while making gestures and even stood on his own hair sometimes when he tried to get up from his desk.

But in the moments around those, when he was still and there was no one to disturb him, he was as calm and poised as any clan head should be. Under the screaming and the wild mane there was a good head with a smart brain. Beneath that lay a bleeding heart that gave in to a good set of pleading puppy eyes faster than Tobirama had ever seen.

Had he been captured by any other clan at odds with the Senju, Tobirama knew very well that most would not have taken the time to hear his story let alone believed him enough to look in to it themselves. And even less would have seen any point in keeping him alive once they realized that he could be of no use as a bargaining chip. Maybe Madara really did just want a slave to keep his house clean and his yard tidy but he was a kinder master than Tobirama would have found in anyone else. If he had been given the option to choose his own path he would have chosen death in an instant. But if he had to choose his own captivity, as much as he hated to admit it, he would choose Madara a hundred times over.

At least, based on his experience so far.

Warm and comfortable in the mountain of pillows he had sunk his body in to, Tobirama never noticed he was falling asleep in the midday sun until his eyes slid closed and he was already gone. The scroll of accounts slipped from his fingers to roll gently across the floor and bump in to Madara’s knee but Tobirama was not awake to see the soft look in those dark eyes as his greatest enemy sat and watched him sleep away the afternoon.

#rae writes #madatobi #madara #tobirama #fanfiction

26 notes · View notes

lovelyirony · 7 years ago

Text

Seeing Stars (And Not Just On Your Shirt)

First of all, it should be said that Tony Stark had at least two PhD’s, an argument could be made for four if you truly counted soft sciences, and Tony Stark Knew His Shit.

There were four things he knew for sure:

1.) Rhodey was his best friend for life

2.) Quoting “mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell” to Pepper when she was drunk would never not be funny

3.) You weren’t supposed to order three mimosas at a baby shower (thanks for the late advice, Jane)

4.) He did not like the art teacher Steven Grant Rogers

It all started when Mr. Kirby retired, Tony didn’t cry at this, and they had to look for a new art teacher. And they find a new art teacher who has biceps that could probably crush watermelons and a smile that melted the devil.

Tony did not yelp and run into a wall.

Or notice that Steve offered to help him up and gave a little smile that could’ve burned rocket fuel.

And he definitely didn’t fall in love in about five minutes after Steve looks at him for maybe a millisecond and says that Tony’s Mona Lisa tie with the mustache on it is “cool.”

“That’s your least-cool tie,” Clint says. Tony sniffs and turns. “Your coolest one is the one Natasha got you that says ‘life is nothing but robots and smiles.’ I like that one, why don’t you wear it?”

“Because you like it.”

“One of these days you’ll admit that you love me.”

“This year is not that year.”

“I didn’t say year!”

“Point still stands.”

Sure, Tony comes into the art room for lunch because they have nearly the same schedule and Steve doesn’t come into the staff room because he thinks Principal Fury is scary.

“He wears an eyepatch Tony, how isn’t that creepy?”

“Because he attends literally every musical showcase that we’ve ever done and cries if anyone sings Phantom of the Opera music. He’s soft like that.” Steve laughs. Tony smiles back and laughs a little, and no. He doesn’t think Steve looks cute. Or that he should ask him on a date. It’s stupid.

He has a freak-out about feelings at midnight when he’s drinking a glass of wine.

“Natasha, I need help.”

“You called me. I was asleep. This better not be about your existential crisis among technology.”

“It’s not that yet. It’s about emotions.”

“Repress them.”

“Natasha, that’s really unhealthy and you shouldn’t do that.”

“Half of your problems solve themselves if people think you don’t care.”

“THAT’S NOT HOW IT WORKS NAT OH MY GOD.”

“So what? You’re a weakling? Sad. Spill, what is making the man sad?”

“I kind of like Steve Rogers and I’m having a crisis because liking people is stupid and his entire face is fucking stupid and his organization of grades is literally the worst system ever and he won’t let me fix anything about it, and--”

“Tony?”

“Yes?”

“I’m not dealing with this. Either do something about it or don’t.”

“I’m not going to do anything about it.”

“That’s unhealthy.”

“You were literally talking about repressing your emotions, like, five seconds ago how are you able to give me advice?”

“You called me asking for advice, likely because if you mess up Pepper’s REM cycle she will destroy you and anything surrounding. Including your little desk toys that you say you aren’t emotionally attached to.”

“If you tell any of my kids this I will sue you so hard your head will fall off.”

“Why do you think I wear chokers all the time? It keeps me together.” Tony snorts. “But Tony, in all seriousness. You like him. You should do something about it.”

“I think not.”

“Fine then, don’t call me. Call Rhodey and have him say the exact thing.”

“Hmm. No.”

“Bye.” The phone call ends with a click.

Tony stays up until three a.m. He decides that liking someone is entirely too much trouble and should be avoided at all costs.

No one told Steve this, and he shows up to Tony’s room in a patterned button-up with stars all over it and the sleeves are rolled up--the sleeves are rolled up--and Tony can’t speak.

“Hey, I seem to have lost my grading pen, did I leave it in here?” He asks. Tony fumbles around at his desk before throwing an electric blue pen at Steve’s head and ushering him out with a nervous laugh and a throwaway line.

“Do you and Mr. Rogers have a thing?” One student, Kamala asks. “Because I could see it.”

“Kamala, what have we said about questions pertaining to my personal life?”

“That you haven’t answered one since college?”

“Exactly. I’m trying to break a Guinness World Record.” The class snickers as Tony waxes poetic about angles and how science was actually not superior to math, which explained everything about science. Dr. Banner could choke.

Pepper hosts an end-of-the-school-year party in May, on the twenty-seventh. Tony tells Steve to go, because Pepper makes cream cheese roll-ups that are to die for, and there is even talk about Clint bringing his fruit punch again, which makes him redeemable.

“I don’t get what you have against that guy,” Steve says.

“He doesn’t have anything against me,” Clint responds. “He just thinks I’m not human. Which is a fair point.”

“Are you?”

“Pfft, I dunno. One time I woke up in a pile of Cheeto dust and a phone number. I called the phone number, it was for the CIA. That’s the reason I took off a week in December.” Steve manages to look mildly surprised, but then tells Clint about how they’re all pretty sure Bucky works for the CIA because he keeps mentioning Roswell, and only Rhodey and Wilson know about that one. Maybe.

As it turns out, inviting Steve to the summer party was a horrible idea because he’s wearing an actual t-shirt and shorts and shit he looks really good. Like, Cher in Moonstruck good. shit.

Tony manages to say “THERE’S PUNCH” and then downs about two glasses and tries to put on AC/DC songs for the rest of the night.

“You are so fucking useless,” Rhodey whispers. “Just talk with him.”

Just Talking With Steve is Not Just Talking. Because Steve is Nice and Attractive and Has a Nice Sense of Humor.

And maybe Tony wants to kiss him on the cheek. And maybe Tony laughs so hard he snorts when Steve does an impression of the school board director Pierce. And yeah, maybe he thinks he develops a heart condition when Steve hugs him goodbye and Steve smells like fresh soap and laundry and paint.

They hang out a lot over the summer. Steve paints a lot; it’s his side job. His paintings are good, and Steve even lets Tony see the before of it all. Tony shows Steve his ideas for robots and his dreams about random things. They listen to old forties records and loud rock hits.

Clint’s the one who points it out.

“You guys started dating!” He says. Steve raises an eyebrow.

“Huh?”

“You went out to dinner last night.”

“To discuss school,” Tony says.

“You had wine, you were so not discussing school. You were probably bitching about the problem kids.”

“Still school-related,” Tony butts in.

“You have also stayed over at each other’s houses.”

“Apartments,” Steve offers. “And driving home at three a.m.? In this economy? No thank you.”

“You have clothes at his house, Tony,” Natasha adds.

“Convenience, I am lazy,” Tony says. “Natasha is slandering my name.”

“Is it really slander if both of you want to share a bed and make love or whatever cheesy shit it is that you do?” Steve and Tony look at each other.

They do hang out more frequently. Tony got rid of his dating app. (Not like it was helpful anyway.) Steve had planned a picnic.

“Son of a bitch, we are dating,” Steve says. “Okay wow, I had plans for this. They were good plans.”

“Please tell me you weren’t gonna play Ed Sheeran.”

“You think I was going to...? I have romantic standards, and they are set very low, Tony. You know this. Wanna go get eggrolls after this?”

“Hell yeah, you’re paying.”

#anyway clint is a goblin #he's not human at all #high school teachers au #tony stark #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #mentioned:#sam wilson #rhodey #pepper potts #bucky barnes #kamala khan #she's a lil shit i love her #also tony???? emotional problems out the wazoo #natasha is Done #Professionally Done

136 notes · View notes

sandwichbully · 6 years ago

Text

Sammy’s Avenue Eatery, 23 November 2018

“When people are hungry, you feed ‘em.”

OK, so about three years ago, I was working at UCare - “UCare, health care that starts with denying you your oxygen!” - and it was a slow afternoon one afternoon. Most afternoons were slow and the mail room was overstaffed for what we needed, so I logged a lot of time on Facebook and I saw this joint, Sammy’s Avenue Eatery, and I thought their sandwiches looked pretty good, so I made it a point to go there. ... aaannnddd I never did. I was broke as shit at the time, working fourteen hours a day six days a week between two jobs (and still being broke all the time) and feeling like shit because I was a terrible letdown to my then-girlfriend (the one from this episode) because I was always tired and just wanted a goddamned beer and two cigarettes. Eventually things improved but not by much and yadda yadda yadda, a whole bunch of shit happens, and going up to Sammy’s Avenue Eatery has been low priority. But I never forgot it. It kind of even nagged at me. And today, with it being almost fifty degrees for what is surely the last time this year if it isn’t the next to last time this year, I made it a point to go to what is likely going to be the final Sandwich Bully episode for 2018 - unless y’all want to come pick me up in your petite bourgeoisie automobile with “the heat” on in December and January. So I rolled up on the corner of Emerson and Broadway and walked in and looked over the menu and waited for the nice lady to finish making a chai latte for this other lady and I asked her which she preferred, the Hot Roasted Chicken or the Turkey Bacon Club. She said honestly that she preferred the chicken but they were out of that so turkey and bacon (I had to specify because I’ve had exactly one experience with turkey bacon and that shit is fucking gross and it’s so gross that I’m compelled to put up a picture of my first ex with a caption mocking her voice in which she chides me for having high blood pressure but that is seriously some SD&A shit and - Hm? Oh, Sound Design and Assembly. That was my old record review blog but I didn’t review records so much as I bitched about pop culture and waxed poetic on having picked up nookie the night before.)

Wait. Where are we?

OK, let’s start that over. She said honestly that she preferred the chicken but they were out of that so turkey and bacon (I had to specify because I’ve had exactly one experience with turkey bacon and that shit is fucking gross) it was and I grabbed a cranberry ginger ale and I found myself engaged in a conversation with her. Lot of personal stuff that isn’t my business to put up here but I guess maybe I can talk about the political side of it and that part was refreshing because nobody was bringing out words with “-ism”s on the end, we were just on the same wavelength, talking about how Minneapolis government is mishandling or outright ignoring a bunch of problems and how there are easy - very easy solutions to them. The homeless encampment whom the city couldn’t decide to house in either a warehouse or a vacant fucking lot? Well, hell, how many boarded up houses are there in north Minneapolis? I figured put the homeless at least in the warehouse out of the elements. The woman I was talking to told me they had plenty of empty houses in this neighborhood. A solution I never thought of. And even thinking about it now, I realize that there’s a lot of red tape and the banks own those empty houses but why does the bank own an empty house? Why is it held by a private entity and not by the state? What are the escheat and adverse possession laws in Minnesota? (And that’s over thinking it but that’s because capitalism doesn’t provide for simple solutions without the transfer of liquid assets.)

And enough of that. Anyway, at one point, this dude comes in and says he doesn’t have time to stop in and eat at the moment but he was just wondering what the soup of the day was for when he came back later and the woman said it was alright if he didn’t have time to eat, she’d fix him a “little” to-go cup (it was more like an eight ounce cup and I don’t know how metric people measure soup; by volume - 237mL - or by mass - 227g) and she handed it to him and told him to have a good day and he said thank you and he walked out the door and she stared out the window and she said, “When people are hungry, you feed ‘em.” No conditions, no clauses, just simple straight to the point action and solution. And she told me about how she wanted to start a homeless shelter, not like the ones downtown where you have to "tell ‘em everything about your life just to get in the door”, she wanted to start one where if you were tired, you could sleep, and if you got caught fucking up, you got kicked out. Simple as that. And my brain goes to how dangerous that would be because what about all the rapists and murderers and then my privilege checks itself and I got to remember that homeless folks aren’t homeless because they’re murderers and they do just want a warm place to sleep and a little something to eat. She told me she wanted to open a soup kitchen, too, and told me that one place downtown was in such a great location because it was centralized and somebody could even walk for forty blocks to get there, and they would, too, because, as she put it, “hunger travels”. I know that. I remember the time, it was like ten years ago or so, that I was with Georgie and we were starving and I walked two miles in a snowstorm to the food shelf and I lied on the paperwork and told them our twenty eight year old roommate was our four year old son because I thought I could get us more food that way (and, hey, there were three people in the house). I remember being dismayed at what we got and dutifully trundled it back home. I remember all that. Maybe it was meant to be that I didn’t get to Sammy’s until today to have this conversation. Maybe as a (timely) reminder to be thankful for what I do have, maybe as a reaffirmation of my beliefs, maybe to just talk to somebody over lunch, which I never get to do because I live alone and work alone.

ANYWAY! How was the sandwich!? How was the fucking sandwich, Charlie!? Remember how this blog is called Sandwich Bully? And it’s about sandwiches? And how it’s not a place for you to peddle your bleeding heart commie* beliefs or pontificate on how we need to be good and charitable toward our brothers and sisters!? HOW THIS PLACE IS MEANT FOR SANDWICHES!?!?!? TALK ABOUT THE FUCKING SANDWICH, CHARLIE!!! It was good. As I was grabbing a pop, the woman (I know her name I just don’t know how she spells it) told me that if I wanted to bundle the sandwich and drink into a combo, that she had chips and I told her nah, I had to watch my salt and she said she knew that was right. I watched her slice my tomato right out of a whole fresh tomato which I’ve seen maybe only Trieste do - slice fresh to order. And she asked if I liked onions and I said I did and she asked if I liked pickles and I said I did and then she held the pickle slices over the container and gave them a little wiggle and told me, “Getting the salt off them for you,” which was cool. Aint ever had anybody do that for me before. And then we set to talking while I ate at the counter and you read about all that. Well, let’s start with the size issue. I ordered a half sandwich (around seven dollars) and it was big enough that I feared what I might have gotten if I had gotten a whole one (around eleven dollars). Trust me, I beg of you, please trust me, I am on my knees begging you to trust me: Order the half sandwich. That is the reasonable human serving size. The tomato was crisp (natch) and the pickles and onions added necessary sour and bite. The cheese, I don’t know what it was but it was white and it was creamy and, tag-teamed with the bacon, it kind of overpowered the turkey but the bacon-cheese combo overpowers most things. The mayo on the sandwich was applied to the bread pre-grilling which, a few years ago, I would have said “ew” to but recently I had the revelation that mayo is just eggs and oil (no, not that part) which are both things that are perfectly alright to be applied to direct heat (that part) and I’ve been waiting to try frying my grilled cheese with mayo on the outside but I never buy bread and I never buy mayonnaise - Why buy mayo when you can make aioli? - so I finally got to try this technique at Sammy’s and I have to admit I didn’t notice anything inherently distinguishable about it but, again, bacon-cheese combo. Overpowers everything but... OK, probably the last time we get to do this this year unless somebody wants to drive me somewhere during December and January so we have to make this one good. Let’s see, let’s see, let’s see... [clears throat] But the real blackout drunk correspondent of Armenia Decides, 2018... No no no. [clears throat again] But the real evil twin unplugging the good twin’s life support so she can assume her identity and run off with her husband... No. Come on, man, you got this. You have literally nothing else. OK, I think I got it. But the real guest star in the dangers-of-huffing-gas-as-a-pregnant-teen episode of this highly rated Saturday morning teen show never to be seen again as, metafictionally, her character had been shipped off to an island of misfit one-off characters, each themselves never to be seen again, turned cannibal after the last hunt didn’t yield the boar’s head required to appease the god behind the sun, he who in-turn took his great veil from the white ball in the sky and scorched their crops in anger and now, teen pot dealer and teen wheelchair basketball player and teen army brat and teen with an eating disorder and all the rest, none of whom were ever seen again, are forced to turn on each other for survival, their malevolence a dance for the god behind the sun’s enjoyment, for when enough blood is spilled he veils his white ball and grants them rest from the heat, but now, a new arrival - The Pregnant Teen Gas Huffer... is the house sauce, which I suspect is a honey dijon vinaigrette. It was sweet, a little complex but not so complex that I couldn’t guess what it was while I was eating it. It stood out and balanced the savory fattiness of the bacon-cheese combo. The lettuce? We don’t have to do the lettuce thing, do we?

I mean, it’s probably the last time this year.

Overall, not a bad bike ride, it was a pretty decent sandwich - it was good but I’m not falling over stupid for it. I mean, hey, it filled me up and I ordered the half sandwich. If there was a quarter sandwich option, I’d go for that. It tasted good, too. She asked me how it was and I told her it was wonderful and she said she was glad I liked it and I told her I was glad she made it. I guess that there was a sense of openness, of community to the place, which we’ve been over before: I prefer to go to places that feel worn in and homey. Places like Band Box and Ideal where the proprietors and the patrons are literally neighbors, where people have been going for years, people who are eating there now worked there in high school because their parents knew the manager. Sammy’s has that vibe. It’s kind of like Nye’s. I liked Nye’s (yes, past tense) when you could walk in and say hi to Phil, sit down, and have an ice cold Żywiec and there was a college football game on you could ignore and it was red Corinthian leather booths and tacky martini murals on the walls and mirrors behind the bar to make the liquor selection look more impressive (or whatever the mirrors are back there for) and it was locals in there. Last time I was in Nye’s, there was no Phil, the new guy didn’t know what Żywiec was, the interior designer clearly got all their ideas from IKEA (still love you, IKEA, but you are not meant for a bar), and the only patronage in there were literally tourists asking about the history of the Mississippi River. I can’t fuck with that scene because it doesn’t feel like it’s a part of the community that supported it through the years. Ownership changed and nobody gave a fuck about preserving the community aspect of the place, it’s clearly a cash grab more cynical and distasteful than when they made Game of Death with B-roll of Bruce Lee and two actors who looked nothing like him. Sammy’s, on the other hand, feels like it’s part of its community. Established in Near North, playing a role in Near North, employing Near North, feeding Near North. GO. GIVE. THEM. YOUR. MONEY.

* I was once briefly involved with a Randian Libertarian who called me literally a “bleeding heart commie” because I told her Atlas Shrugged was “right-wing oriented”. Ah, to be young again.

#2018 #near north #club sandwich #turkey bacon club #escheat and adverse possession #community #metric soup

1 note · View note

itsthelinernotes · 6 years ago

Text

Let’s Talk About Lyrics About Love

The fantastic new Dirty Projectors album, Lamp Lit Prose, is finally here. Well, not really finally since it’s only been something like a year since their Self-Titled, maybe problematic, powerful album of break up jams came out. And folks, I am happy to announce David Longstreth is in love again and everyone knows it.

If you skim through the reviews of this album you’ll find two things. A near universal agreement that this is a 4 star/B/7.5 record, and that the lyrics of “Break-Thru” specifically the reference to Julian Casablancas, Archimedes, and Felinni are worth mentioning (these are likely attempts to appease our sweet algorithms that watch over our content consumption). The consensus in these reviews is that these lines are a bit embarrassing. My friend David Sackllah, likely the only reviewer who will read this (Hi Dave <3) mentions specifically the line “she keeps it 100 in the shade” in his review for Consequence of Sound. Indeed it’s an embarrassing line, it’s up there with Longstreth hits like “What hits the spot yeah/like Gatorade/ you and me baby/ hitting the spot all night” from Temecula Sunrise. But maybe the fact that it sounds like a teenager trying desperately to impress a crush with his knowledge of things speaks to something more about love.

Anyone who’s been in love knows embarrassing lines about love are the truest expression of being hopelessly in love. Love after all makes no god damn sense and if you’ve felt it you have made a fool of yourself. Not to wax poetic and fall victim to exactly what I’m talking but the nature of love is a kind of surrender. You surrender any sense of being cool because you want something so bad and wanting anything is not cool.

So when I hear a line like “She keeps it 💯/in the shade” my reaction is first “oh my god how dumb” then of course I’m forced to face my own history of professing love and concede a point.

Of course lyrics like this are much more prominent in Pop Music. A favourite recent example of mine is “Who gave you eyes like that,/ said you could keep them?” From I Really Like You by Carly Rae Jepsen.

The brilliance of the “eyes” lyric from Jepsen is that it only barely makes any sense. What it’s pointing to is the inherent unfairness that comes with love. If you’re in love with someone you can’t help but be powerless to them. She’s referencing this authority imbalance in a playful way. She knows she’s powerless to her love’s eyes and suggests that some sort of governing body or person must have granted the tools of authority. Of course conjuring such a figure of authority is absurd, the same as love itself. If you’re a stingy reader of lyrics you may look at that lyric as non-sense and sticking out from the rest of the lyrics of the song which are a coy attempt to test the waters. Does this person like me as much as I like them? The very act of determining it is attempting to plot the balance of power between the people. If I like you and ou like me we’re equally balanced, if one likes the other and not vice versa, one person has more power.

This is an old concept. Shakespeare showed this in The Tempest when what’s his name let whats her name (I’m far too lazy to Google the characters I’m thinking of. I’m writing this off the top of my head on my phone) cheat at chess because he just didn’t care for rules or logic as long as it was in service of his love. Similarly many musicians will surrender any regard for the rules of grammar, cultural coolness, etc. To express their love. Speaking of grammar, remember the time Sufjan Stevens wrote an open letter criticizing Miley Cyrus’ grammar? While the tone of that letter is admittedly hard to parse, there are plenty of criticisms of lyrics that rely on some sort of “this doesn’t make sense”. It doesn’t even have to be about love, think of when Drake claimed to start from the bottom and people (in Canada at least) collectively shrieked “He was on Degrassi though!!!!!!!”.

Ultimately one of the great powers of lyrics and art I suppose is its ability to shirk rules (I don’t mean “great” as a value judgement or to mean “good”). However it can get into weird territory when music, which is so deeply tied to social capital and “coolness” explores territory outside of the rules of cool. Whether this was his intention or not I think that’s what Longstreth has done on Break-Thru and throughout a lot of his work. I mean, the man has dedicated a lot of music to singing about Don Henley. And I’m willing to go along with him on this ride cause I’m in love and it’s fucking embarrassing.

2 notes · View notes

textsfromumbridge · 7 years ago

Text

All the men and women merely players (3/5)

A Christmas gift to this wonderful fandom, and in particular a gift for @catty-words and @rebeccaplimpton (my favorite owl).

Chapter three: Loser like all of these idiots (AO3)

Someday he was actually going to murder that Geoffrey guy.

And maybe that someday would actually be this very day.

It wasn’t just that the guy kept stalking him in rehearsal - he claimed to have mastered all of his ensemble parts so he’d come to Nathaniel so he could be a proper understudy. Like that guy could ever be a decent replacement for him. The guy wouldn’t be a proper replacement for anyone, but especially not for him.

Maybe he was just a little more harsh on him because of the incident with Bunch at that Saturday rehearsal. If he hadn’t shown up, he was sure he would have gotten to at least second base with Bunch, possibly more.

But no, the idiot just had to show up and completely kill the mood.

He’d been so damn close! Bunch had even been the one to make the first move, which meant that he was totally in her system now - but it was all dependant upon the right atmosphere and the right moment.

It had been right there: an abandoned hallway in a locked building, no way for anyone to disturb them. And not in a creepy way - just in the ‘certain activities should really remain private’ way. No spectators required.

But of course freaking Giles just had to break that unspoken rule. He just had to ruin this like he ruined everything.

Now how was he going to get Rebecca, to get Bunch to go near him again? She’d retreated right back to the ridiculously named Chan Plan. Apparently that was safer than actually doing anything with someone who wasn’t named Josh Chan.

Fucking Muggle.

“Mr. Plimpton?”

“Yes, Mr. Whitefeather?”

He was screwed. Clearly someone had said something, or someone had found out about his moment with Bunch - and now his teacher was going to use it against him. What else did Mr. Whitefeather need to blackmail him into doing?

“Don’t worry,” his teacher immediately tried to reassure him in that doofus-like way. “I just wanted to have a quick chat about your future.”

What the - his future? What was that supposed to mean? This was not a good sign.

“You probably already have everything figured out for next year,” Mr. Whitefeather just yammered on and on, “but I was hoping you would consider something else.”

Like what exactly? What was he going to be forced into now?

“I know you didn’t join the program voluntarily,” Mr. Whitefeather finally admitted to at least part of his shady dealings. “But you are a very talented young man.”

Okay, something bad was coming. No one ever complimented him without there being some kind of ulterior motive - or without it being used to soften some kind of blow. Had something happened to his mother again?

“Thank you?” Even in an awkward situation he prided himself on feigning politeness.

“I just think it would be a waste of talent,” Mr. Whitefeather continued, “to let our production of Cinderella be your only theater experience. So I’ve done a little research.”

A little. There was no way that the gigantic binder his teacher just foisted upon him constituted a little anything. Even his own, admittedly fantastic, muscles were surprised by the weight of it.

There was just so much in here that he didn’t even open it to see what was inside.

“A little?” he remarked skeptically.

“Just some applications and information about theater programs,” Mr. Whitefeather tried to brush it off. “Some of these can be combined with a business degree - seeing as that was what you intended to do before the stage called to you.”

What the hell?

Wow, the man certainly had a flair for the dramatic. Not that he didn’t already know about that, but this just proved it once again. The stage called to him? Seriously? What kind of Bunch-esque nonsense was that?

She would totally say something like that, looking all serious with her eyes laser-focused on her target. Maybe she wouldn’t say it about him, but she would absolutely say it about herself.

And this was not about her, so why was he going there? Again?

“Mr. Whitefeather,” he tried to interrupt the incoming dramatic monologue before it even started.

“Nathaniel you have grown so much in these past few weeks,” Mr. Whitefeather had started to wax poetic and he was not going to stop. “When you started with us, you were angry, and distant, and dismissive of all of us. But you have grown into it, and your bond with Ms. Bunch is truly something special. The chemistry!”

This was not going into a direction that he was comfortable with. He had not grown or changed significantly over the course of these past few weeks. He was not suddenly friends with any of these people. There was absolutely nothing special going on between him and Bunch.It was just teenage hormones and general idiocy (yes, that last part was referring to that Graham moron).

No, he was not going to let that go so easily.

“I’m sure this will be our best show yet,” there was just no stopping Mr. Whitefeather when he was on a roll. “And we do owe a lot of that to you, Mr. Plimpton.”

Was this a thank you? Was this actually Mr. Whitefeather wanting to thank him for the effort by doing all this ridiculous research that he was never going to use? There was no way that his father would ever allow him to study theatre, not even on the side. There were so many more important things for him to do.

Trying to take over the world, for example (thanks Pinky). His father may not have seen the humor in it, but Nathaniel almost did. For a few seconds, before the importance of business and the company were impressed upon him yet again.

“Thank you?” It came out as a question.

“I just feel like not pursuing this further would be a waste of your talents,” Mr. Whitefeather smiled at him. “I would be happy to act as a reference for any of these applications. I just hate seeing talent such as yours go to waste.”

Had he offered the same thing to Bunch?

Not very likely - she would have started doing this very research about three to four years ago. She probably already asked - read: demanded - that Mr. Whitefeather vouch for her in every possible way. And knowing Mr. Whitefeather even a little bit, he probably wrote her an extensive letter describing her every virtue in great detail. And not even in a creepy way.

Nathaniel’s description of Bunch’s virtues - that was not for anyone under eighteen. Or for anyone to hear really - not even for Bunch herself. It might actually make her think that he gave a damn about her.

Which he really didn’t, of course.

“You don’t have to decide right now,” Mr. Whitefeather just kept on talking and talking. “I just feel like you should consider all of your options.”

Except this was not a real option, not for him. Plimptons did not study theater. They never did anything even remotely frivolous. They went to school for business and got excellent grades, and they spent the rest of their time working out and otherwise being the perfect son.

Otherwise he might make his mother upset again.

“These options aren’t,” he tried to explain it to his teacher.

“Just consider it,” Mr. Whitefeather interrupted him before he could finish a sentence. “Just take this binder and look through it. When you feel like it. No pressure.”

The man was infuriating. Mr. Whitefeather just refused to let him off the hook, even though he was fully aware that Nathaniel was not going to be able to pursue this. This one show was risky enough - his father had questioned his absences, even though he hadn’t even been at home himself.

“I’ll take the binder,” he agreed, knowing he’d get rid of it the second his teacher had his back turned.

Wait, did he owe his teacher something now? After the whole totally setting him up to nail Bunch thing, and now the binder, he really kind of did owe the man something. He had to say something.

“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me,” he just blurted it out without another thought. “Especially the whole helping get me laid thing. So, I kind of owe you, and I figured… You’re clearly really into Coach Wilson, and I have some solid advice to make that happen.”

It was so obvious, anyone could see what was happening. Well, except maybe that Grant guy, but no one else seemed to manage his particular level of cluelessness. Even creepy Karen seemed to have caught on to the ogling and the flirting and the swooning.

And if Karen had caught on, everyone knew.

And if everyone knew, it was about damn time to actually do something about it that was more than just making googly eyes at various exposed body parts. Coach Wilson was totally into it, but the man wasn’t making a move.

Someone had to do something - and he knew that Bunch “shipped” it. It would totally also score him bonus points with her if he made it happen.

“Mr. Plimpton, this is highly inappropriate,” Mr. Whitefeather stammered. .

“That’s kind of the school motto,” he correctly surmised.

The guidance counselor was basically writing up seduction plans for a student she treated like a daughter. That one guy that made the students call him Robert had been fired for doing it with a student. Creepy Karen had some weird ass activities going on in the Bio lab with some of the school’s pet snakes.

Honestly, a little teacher on teacher flirtation was nothing compared to what his poor eyes had seen in that lab.

“You may have a point,” the older man acknowledged.

There was a beat of silence. All he had to do now was wait - the bait was set and Mr. Whitefeather was totally ready to bite.

He held on to his stupid binder for a little while longer, mentally figuring out if the humongous thing would fit in his locker. Maybe he didn’t have to throw it out right away.

“So, about this advice?”

So predictable.

It was all over.

It had happened so quickly, so easily. It didn’t take him any effort at all to throw her in the garbage, where she belonged.

Josh Chan had dumped her.

He’d just abandoned her, just like all the other men. Just like her father, like Robert, like all of them. He was just like them.

Somehow he’d seen inside her garbage head, somehow he’d seen that she really wasn’t worth it, and instead of making her happy he’d just moved on to some pretty blonde transfer student who only seemed to care if her eyebrows were on fleek.

That Anna girl was probably a drug dealer too. The girl was always trading something or other with her fellow fashionistas - Valencia would probably know all about it.

Poor Valencia was probably heartbroken - which for her only showed in the level of rage she exuded. Heather was the only one who hadn’t run away screaming, because Heather was smart enough to see what was really going on, and badass enough to give as good as she got.

Heather was kind of really awesome, okay.

Unlike Josh, who was really The Worst. Like, he officially threw Nathaniel Plimpton off the throne of hell - or his dad anyway. Still, Josh was the WORST.

He led her on. He made her believe that they were going to be together, and then when she found him at Hector’s party he didn’t want to be seen with her.

Not like he had at - he never wanted to be seen with her. He was embarrassed by her, embarrassed to be seen with her, but not too embarrassed to make out with her when no one else was around.

And she’d just let it happen.

It was just so embarrassing - she was smarter than that, right? Or at least, she’d really thought she was. Maybe that was the worst part, because her smarts were a big part of the very little she had going for her.

The feelings were swallowing her up and none of them were good. She could just feel herself slipping back into that depression state of mind, and there was absolutely nothing that she could do to stop it.

What was the point when no one wanted her?

Well, except Nathaniel, but he didn’t count. It didn’t matter that he obviously wanted to have sex with her, not when Josh wasn’t interested in her.

Josh Chan was supposed to be her perfect match, her soulmate.

Nathaniel was just... a roadblock. Someone who got in the way of her happily ever after with Joshua Felix Chan. He was never supposed to be the Prince, not off stage.

So maybe he was really charming on stage, and he was hitting more than a few of the right buttons off stage. Still, it didn’t mean anything. It couldn’t mean anything, because she wasn’t meant to be with Nathaniel Plimpton the Third.

(Her mother would die of happiness if she even mentioned his name, which was another point against him. Not that she hadn’t already gathered quite a lot of reasons not to even think about him. Chief of them being Josh. )

It did not matter that Nathaniel was tall and attractive with those blue eyes that just randomly turned soft with warmth when seconds before they’d been lit up by a spark of intelligence. She never asked him to be kind to her - she didn’t even want him to be kind. She didn’t want his pity, or his perceived little crush.

And there he was, staring at her again.

He’d been doing that a lot lately, and even more so after the stupid Josh thing. Somehow he just knew that she’d been dumped.

Ugh, he was the worst and she didn’t even know why she was thinking of him again.

“Stop pitying me,” she hissed at him as she walked by.

“Pity is for losers,” he corrected.

Which was basically her title at this point. So why wasn’t he rubbing it in?

“So?” she stopped in her tracks.

“I’d pity Chan,” he smirked. “Not you.”

What?

If anyone was the loser in this scenario, it was definitely her. Josh was the captain of the team, the leader of the pack. She was just a theater nerd whose own people didn’t even respect her. She didn’t even have friends - she’d just been lying to herself again. Paula was her only friend, but that was just kind of weird.

She was very aware of how weird that was, but it didn’t change anything. It’s not like she would suddenly become more likeable overnight.

Not that she cared about that - she didn’t. She wasn’t going to remember any of these people anyway, when she made it big.

So if they didn’t care about her, and she didn’t care about them?

“You okay there Bunch?” Nathaniel was still around for some lame reason. “You’re about to start catching flies.”

If she didn’t care about anyone - that included stupid Nathaniel - it would be easier. She could be bad, really bad.

“Fuck off.” She flipped him off for good measure.

It was time for her to get some good old-fashioned revenge.

They could not put it off any longer. They had to do it.

Mr. Whitefeather was making them practice that one scene: the final scene. The scene that involved the true love’s kiss neither of them really believed in. Still, they had to sell it to the audience.

But with Bunch being in her current state, he doubted they could sell water in a desert together.

She was completely occupied by her stupid revenge plan. He didn’t even know what she was planning exactly - he was very sure that he probably really did not want to know a single thing about it - but it was obvious that it had completely consumed her.

Bunch was acting like a jilted bride, like she’d been left at the altar by this complete idiot. It was a high school fling at best - it wasn’t like she’d even remember Josh Chan at their ten year reunion. She’d probably be ruling the world by then, or just the Broadway stage. Or quite possibly, both.

She was ambitious like that - she had more than a little Slytherin in her. And if she wanted to, she could have a lot of Slytherin in her - yes, he meant sex. A lot of it.

But perhaps they’d start with a kiss - a staged one at that, right in front of meddling Mr. Whitefeather. Sure, he had game, but not the kind of game he wanted to show to his teacher (no matter how much Mr. Whitefeather would probably learn from it). This needed to happen just between him and Bunch, if it was ever going to be something real.

Ew, why would he want this to be ‘something real’? He just needed to get her out of his system. One go and he would be right back to normal.

Well, maybe one night. There were a couple positions he was sure she wouldn’t mind trying. But just one night, because Nathaniel Plimpton the Third did not do anything more than one night. He did not do relationships. Ugh, the thought alone made him more than a little sick to his stomach.

That was kind of a good thing at this point, because thinking about having sex with Bunch had made his loose pants much too tight all of a sudden. Which again: just fine when it was just him and Bunch, but not okay with their teacher right there.

“Can we get this over with already?” Bunch was less than excited.

“Miss Bunch,” Mr. Whitefeather gently chided. “We are looking to create a certain atmosphere here. This kiss is supposed to be the culmination of your incredible chemistry throughout the show. It needs to be romantic, loving, a true embodiment of happily ever after.”

Wow, no pressure there. Clearly Mr. Whitefeather still had some serious heart eyes going on - head in the clouds, thinking of Coach Wilson at inopportune moments, the whole shebang. He’d now reached the spreading the feeling stage, trying to get others to join him in a love bubble of their own. Sickening.

At least Bunch seemed to agree with that sentiment, her pinched face in sharp contrast to the romantic scene they were supposed to be playing out.

If it continued like this, there would be actual vomiting before they even got close to working on the actual scene. And he was not sure if it would be him or Bunch, but he was fully aware that Mr. Whitefeather would be the cause.

Something had to be done, and he knew he was the man for the job.

“Mr. Whitefeather,” he just had to play this right. “I’m sure you understand that it is kind of uncomfortable to practice a kissing scene with one of our favorite teachers examining everything. So how about you give us some time to practice it ourselves?”

Sucking up worked - he’d seen Bunch do it enough to know that much. He probably wasn’t as good at it as she was - less experience - but he was willing to give it a try if it meant that Mr. Whitefeather would go off somewhere, anywhere. It was bad enough that he’d have to do it in front of a full auditorium at some point, but for the first time? Yeah, it was not going to happen with all the hovering that was currently going on.

“Oh, I remember my first kissing scene,” Mr. Whitefeather was immediately off on another random tangent.

“I agree with Nathaniel,” Bunch ended their teacher’s story before it began.

She was absolutely being nice to him because it would get them what they wanted, and it was absolutely turning him on.

That had nothing to do with how much he liked it when she used his first name - that should not be a thing. That dramatic way she spoke was not going to be a kink for him. He did not want to have to kinkshame himself.

“Rebecca is right,” he got right on the wagon.

Of course he had to use her first name to get the right effect. Mr. Whitefeather was never going to buy it if he kept calling her Bunch. That was the one and only reason he was using her first name.

“Finally my two leads are on the same page,” Mr. Whitefeather was delighted at this development - as delighted as he was all the damn time.

He was not going to ask his teacher if the man could just leave already, but he was definitely sorely tempted. But he was not raised to be rude to his teachers, even if he was smarter and better adjusted than they were. Plimptons respected authority - and his father’s authority above all else.

“Your exercises really helped us,” Bunch was laying it on a bit thick now.

If she said anything about getting in touch with anyone’s feelings, especially his, he was going to throw up the salad he had at lunch.

Sure, he did appreciate the unnecessary help Mr. Whitefeather had given him in the seducing Bunch plan, but it wasn’t like there were any feelings involved here. It was all teenage hormones and getting some things out of their systems.

“Your chemistry is just so inspirational,” Mr. Whitefeather looked about ready to swoon. “It’s a shame you’re both seniors, because I’d love to keep working with you two, together.”

One show, no encores, no repeat engagements. There was no way he would be blackmailed into doing anything else.

And doing this voluntarily? No, he was not that far gone yet.

“You flatter us,” Bunch practically pushed their teacher out the door.

He just made sure to smile at the man until the second after the door closed in his face. Then, he prepared for battle.

Bunch was certainly not going to make this easy for him. He was just about ready to curse Josh Chan’s name for ruining this for him. She’d pretty much been a sure bet before - she made the first move to kiss him last time - until Josh “dumb-dumb” Chan showed her that all men were superficial assholes. And while Bunch obviously knew that in theory (and maybe some practice) the reminder had stung.

And that was why she was currently glaring daggers at him instead of letting herself be seduced by their circumstances.

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Bunch was dismissive.

Damn you Josh Chan! Damn you Graham for interrupting what had been such a promising moment!

“I never thought you wouldn’t take your role seriously,” they both knew he was baiting her with that one. “It’s about true love, Bunch.”

For a girl who had no trouble manipulating people to get what she wanted, she definitely had a mushy side he could easily take advantage of. She clearly wanted to believe in soulmates and true love, and if that did not get him what he wanted, he was still baiting her.

She never could let him win.

“You’re the worst,” she declared.

“I’m okay with that,” he shrugged.

That stopped her in her tracks. Not in the way he’d wanted, with her dropping the subject and moving on to the good parts of this meeting, but in that analytical way that told him she might be seeing something he didn’t necessarily intend for her to see.

What kind of quip could he use to distract her? Making her angry usually worked, but she’d been filled with so much anger that it had become a little risky. Too much anger and she’d walk right out and he’d never get another chance to get with her. Because that was all he wanted from her.

“As long as it gets you what you want,” Bunch was still looking at him like that.

“Would you prefer I fake some feelings?” he tried to distract her.

He wasn’t moral enough to play the honesty card all the time. It worked on Bunch, but many a girl had needed a few sweet nothings whispered in her ear to allow him a few liberties. Either way, the result was the same: he got what he wanted and he moved on.

“You aren’t that good an actor,” she dismissed him.

“That sounds like a challenge,” he was almost amused.

Maybe if he pretended not to notice that she’d actually stepped closer to him to properly dismiss him, maybe she wouldn’t notice either. Maybe she would keep doing it.

“No thanks,” Bunch scoffed. “Let’s just get through this stupid scene.”

She was still moving closer, no matter what her actual words were saying. So maybe he wasn’t alone in feeling this ridiculous attraction - he knew he wasn’t - and they could just finally get it over with.

He needed the show to be over, and her to be out of his head, so that he could go back to his normal life. The life that he was supposed to lead, the one that did not involve theater and this girl who’d somehow made him pay attention to her.

“If you insist,” he drew her in closer with his words.

“Don’t act like you don’t want to kiss me, Nathaniel,” she reached for him with one hand.

It was going to burn right through his chest. It shouldn’t be possible, but that single touch of her hand had completely drawn him in. How did she do that?

“You’ve been wanting it too,” he whispered, slowly moving down to her level.

She could not deny that - he did not want her to deny it. She needed to admit that she did want him, because that meant he won.

But was he even keeping score still?

“I’m acting,” she reminded him, taunted him.

Her hand had made its way to the back of his neck, pulling him further and further down as she reached up to meet him.

“And I’m not?” he quirked an eyebrow.

His hand was on the small of her back, and this was absolutely not going to be allowed for their stage kiss. That was all chaste and romantic and pure - and why was he even still thinking about that?

This kiss, this had nothing to do with Ella and Prince Topher.

“Please,” she whispered.

If that was still in response to something, he’d long since forgotten it. It was a plea for him to finally bridge those final inches, a plea to not let that Grant guy interrupt them this time.

How could he not grant her wish?

Their lips met sharply, a contrast to how slow they’d been moving before. This was all pent-up frustrations, hormones, attraction against their wishes. She pulled at him, contorting him into the perfect position to just keep kissing her. And so he had to push back, clinging at his perfect control by the edges of his fingernails.

They continued to fight even in this kiss, a yank on his hair and a tug at her hips to get her even closer. It was desperate, frantic, passionate… And it was everything he wanted, or was it?

“Bunch,” he pulled away to catch his breath.

“Shut up,” she pushed him against the closed door.

He’d dreamt of this, but not this.

“Slow down,” he tried to reach for her face, gently.

“Shut up,” she repeated, pushing his hand away.

There was no way for him to move comfortably, and yet she tried to pull at him. Another kiss, one that seemed even harsher than the first, all teeth and tongue.

God, it was hot, it really was. Bunch, Rebecca… She couldn’t stop trying to get even closer to him, pressing her body tightly against his.

But he felt a doorknob pushing against his back, and his neck was starting to hurt from being pushed and pulled into such an awkward position.

“Rebecca,” he spoke without thinking.

The change was absolute. She stilled immediately, eyes wide and hands trembling as she tried to fix her shirt.

He hadn’t even been staring at her cleavage - what the hell was wrong with him?

“I need to go,” she disentangled herself from him, her body shaky and her face closed off.

And he was left alone in the room, pants too tight and heartbeat racing.

The clock had struck midnight and Ella had run from the prince. But there was no glass slipper, no clue as to what had gone wrong.

She did not mean to be distracted, she just was.

And it was a serious problem.

“Rebecca,” he’d said.

Nathaniel Plimpton had used her first name, and it was soft and warm and completely unexpected. And most of all, it was bad and wrong.

If he’d just kept that stupid, surprisingly soft mouth of his shut, she’d have been on top of him in an empty classroom at this point.

But no, he just had to use her name and ruin everything.

How dare he make it sound like he gave a damn about her? This was Nathaniel Plimpton the Third - he didn’t do anything involving the full spectrum of human emotions. He was supposed to bang her and leave her, just so Josh Chan would never be able to have her first time.

Because he didn’t deserve it.

Not that it was even about deserving it, it was about her choices. And she’d chosen Nathaniel for this one. Just this one time, just to get those damn hormones out of the way so they could both move on with their lives. She wanted to be bad, to let the animalistic urges rule her just once, just like they ruled everyone else in school.

So why wouldn’t he just let her?

He’d been turned on when he said it, but she knew all about how true feelings came out when the normal filters were gone, and what he’d said was her name. She couldn’t get over it, couldn’t get it out of her head.

“Cookie?”

It was probably just another twisted, devious manipulation. He was the Evil Plimpton after all - perhaps this was like She’s All That after all and he needed to make her believe that he gave a damn about her so she’d fall for him.

She could probably expect a prom invitation any day now.

Not that she’d say yes to that - she’d seen the movies and she didn’t exactly want to end up crying on prom night. Not that she’d cry, because she didn’t actually care about Nathaniel and his hurt feelings. She didn’t!

What she cared about was her revenge.

“Cookie?”

Yes, all she wanted was revenge against Josh Chan. He was the only man, the only boy that mattered right now. Only until she’d left him weeping, of course.

He’d be sorry he abandoned her, sorry that he ever led her on and made her feel like glitter was exploding inside of her. He’d be sorry for the secretive affair, for not wanting to be with her out in the open. Joshua Felix Chan would be sorry for all of it.

And maybe then, finally, she could get Nathaniel out of her head, and the way he’d looked at her after he said her name.

“Rebecca!”

“Don’t call me that,” she whirled around to confront Natha- Paula?

Oh, right, they were supposed to be coming up with revenge plans together.

“Cookie?” Paula seemed more than a little freaked out.

“Sorry,” her apology was only slightly exaggerated. “My head was just off in the clouds, you know what that’s like.”

Did she sound blase enough? Good, because it was awkward, the kind of bad awkward that people remembered. Especially when by people she meant her best friend and guidance counselor. Paula was too good at figuring things out for her to learn anything that might make her suspicious.

Which was why she could never learn about what had happened between her and Nathaniel. No one ever needed to know that.

She was going to have enough trouble looking him in the eye ever again after that, and they were supposed to be love interests. In the show. She meant they were supposed to play love interests.

“Right,” Paula didn’t seem to buy it, not completely.

“So, what’s the plan for Chan?” she purposefully rhymed, knowing it would distract Paula.

As expected, Paula snickered happily. Sometimes she worried about her friend, about why she treated one of her students as her best friend instead of finding someone she was on more equal footing with.

But that was not a concern right now. Right now, there was nothing but vengeance.

“I have brought in an expert,” Paula grinned evilly.

That was disconcerting. Not the grinning, no, she wholeheartedly approved of the evil grinning and possible future cackling. The bringing in an expert part was her real concern.

Because who could this be? Who at this school was an expert on pain and vengeance and evil plans? (They were making evil plans!)

“Sup?” Heather Davis nodded as she dropped into one of the chairs.

Wait, Heather was the expert? That made little to no sense - Heather was generally one of the most chill people in the entire school, and while she definitely wouldn’t let anyone mess with her, there was no vengeance in her bones. Heather was the kind of person who called someone out on their shit and then moved on with her life.

Which was super cool, but definitely not what she was going for right now.

“Heather,” she nodded like she’d been expecting this all along.

“I’m just here for moral support,” Heather opened up a notebook and started doodling. “I’m thinking about being a psych major, and this is fascinating.”

That was both the most and least surprising thing she’d ever heard Heather say. Which meant that it was actually perfectly on brand for Heather.

She had a beanie over her messy curls, and this week the colored streaks in her hair appeared to be purple. Hipster culture had nothing on Heather.

Honestly, she wished she were half as cool.

“I’d say sorry for being late,” Valencia Perez threw open the door to Paula’s office, “but I’m not actually all that sorry. I had things to do.”

What the actual hell was Paula thinking? This was probably the worst idea ever.

Or the second worst, because practicing a kissing scene with Nathaniel Plimpton in an empty classroom might have been one for the books. Really, how did she think that was going to end? (Spoiler alert: sex. Lots of it.)

Ugh, why did she keep coming back to stupid Nathaniel?

Paula actually brought Valencia in on the revenge plan against Josh? Did she want Rebecca to get murdered? Because that was absolutely what was going to happen when Valencia found out she had been all over Josh when they were still dating. It was going to be death by yoga and claws. And words. Vicious, vicious words.

She’d have to change schools after this - her mother might actually kill her, because changing schools this close to graduation was going to kill her chances at several of the Ivies she’d been forced to apply to.

Was witness protection an option here? She could change her name and move across country.

Rachel, she could be a Rachel.

“I’m glad you’re here, miss Perez,” Paula was still smiling. “It’s time for us to destroy Josh Chan.”

Now those were fighting words. Now she was interested. Now she was no longer distracted by Nathani- damn it.

His face was just so damn distracting, especially his eyes. And his mouth.

This was not helping!

“Right, so I’m only here because I hate Josh Chan,” Valencia picked the most prominent chair to gracefully sit down in. “You were probably the reason he broke up with me, and I kind of hate you for it, but at least he didn’t leave me hanging on for another ten years. He’s scared of confrontation like that.”

That was a surprisingly mature standpoint from the person who’d been lowkey bullying every loser at this school for the past four years.

Was she right to be suspicious of that, or was Valencia Perez actually growing? Had Heather’s mellow disposition rubbed off on her? Those two had been spending a lot of time together lately, and while it made sense for Valencia to be the alpha female, Heather’s almost supernatural calmness was kind of infectious.

Either way, she should probably be grateful.

“We all hate Josh Chan,” Paula was pleased at how well this was going.

“I don’t,” Heather shrugged. “But keep going, this is fascinating.”

The four women came together as one to figure out what would hurt Josh Chan the most. It was almost inspirational.

Oh my God, she was finally part of a girl group now!

He’d been avoiding her for days, pretending his ego wasn’t bruised by her abrupt departure from that classroom. And it wasn’t, because he didn’t care about Rebecca Bunch. Not at all.

It was just a little unflattering that even a pathetic loser like her bailed on him. That was all that was.

Still, it was a good sign that he needed to stay focused, that he needed to do a few extra reps at the gym this week, because clearly his perfect physique was failing him. His body could not be trusted this week, especially not around Bunch.

So, avoidance.

Of course, that only went so far, because he still had to see her in rehearsals. But after his demand to work some more on some scenes that in no way involved Cinderella herself, Mr. Whitefeather had rather reluctantly acquiesced.

After all, he did not want the show to fail because he’d left it all to depend on chemistry. That Jim guy was still woefully behind on learning his lines, and Tim wasn’t much better (if he finally managed to correctly guess who was who, anyway). They had a lot of catching up to do to get even in the same stratosphere as he was in. And that was the only reason why Nathaniel was currently running through the same few scenes over and over again until these idiots finally got it right.

“Once again, from the top,” he ordered, barely even breaking a sweat.

Jim and Tim - Tim and Jim? - were wrecks. The amount of sweat those idiots produced wasn’t quite healthy. And here he’d figured that Jim (it was Jim, right?) had been in excellent shape, seeing as how he showed up at the gym at least twice a week.

Well, clearly he’d just been there for the girls, because that was all he could talk about.

“Hello there fellas.”

Of course there was no way that she could just let him be. Not in his dreams, and not in real life. No, Rebecca Bunch just had to interrupt his manly bonding time.

(As if he would ever try to bond with any of these losers.)

“Hey Rebecca,” Jim immediately sidled up to her.

“Jim, get back to work,” he ordered, rolling his eyes. “You’re still pathetically out of shape.”

It said something for his natural leadership skills that Jim didn’t even speak another word before he started another circuit of reps. Yes, he was a true leader.

“That’s alright,” Bunch wasn’t deterred even for a second. “I wanted to talk to you anyway.”

Of course she wanted to talk to him now, when she could act like she had the moral high ground in front of their cast mates. She did so thrive around a captive audience, and he’d rather not have a dramatic confrontation straight out of Les Miserables.

The word miserable was right there in the show title, and he’d actually seen it a few times. There was a lot of death, and both men involved in the Confrontation were dead by the end of the show. He didn’t exactly fancy ending up like that, not that he thought Bunch would actually resort to murdering him. He hadn’t quite earned that yet.

Or had he?

“I’m busy,” he dismissed her.

He wasn’t even lying about that - he was busy because these idiots needed a lot of work and the premiere date was getting ever closer. They were due for their costume fitting soon, and if everything fit properly - and he’d made sure it would - they would start rehearsing in costume in a week or so.

Which meant that in about a week, he was going to have serious trouble trying to look Bunch in the eyes - just the idea of her in a corset was already ruining his life. The reality would undoubtedly be much, much worse.

“Or we can do this here,” she had him cornered and she knew it.

Damn her and her everything.

None of these losers were ever going to know about anything that had happened between him and Bunch. They might actually start to think that he was on their level, and then they’d treat him like their buddy.

That could never happen, should never happen. He was superior in every way, like a Plimpton should be.

“Maya, could you take over?” he left the tiniest girl in the group in charge.

Oh, her looks were deceiving - that tiny person could take down every single fragile man boy in that group with just a few phrases. The time she explained to Tim that his long time girlfriend had been faking it with him had been particularly brutal - or just particularly entertaining for him.

Maya could be trusted to run a tight ship.

“Totes,” Maya saluted him.

“Ma’am,” he nodded at her, playing along with her little joke.

That seemed to surprise Bunch, as she stared back and forth between him and the tiny girl with the big glasses, as if there was a thing going on there that she wasn’t aware of. When all it was, was a congenial relationship between cast mates. Maya wasn’t completely useless, and she was willing to work hard, unlike most freshmen.

It meant nothing, but Bunch was undoubtedly going to make a big production out of this small, insignificant moment.

“Let’s go, Bunch,” he did not have the time or the patience for her usual shenanigans.

“No calling me Rebecca this time?” she pointedly asked as she followed him into the empty hallway.

Oh yeah, she was not going to let that stupid mistake go. One freaking slip of the tongue and he was going to hear about it forever - or just until graduation, because there was no way he was ever going to see Rebecca Bunch again after that.

They were going very different places in life - him to Stanford and her to some ridiculous drama school in New York, probably. That was where losers like her thrived.

“You didn’t seem to like it last time,” he remarked, unwilling to let her have the last word about anything, not even this. “I never met anyone who was scared of their first name before.”

Yeah, that hit its mark, as it was intended to. How else was he supposed to get back the power he’d lost with a single word?

Bunch would never let anyone call her afraid, and she especially would not let him get away with it. Her ego wouldn’t let her.

“Scared?” she huffed, blowing herself up for proper hysterics.

“Running away tends to mean fear,” he had the high ground now.

It was funny how she tried to seem taller, tiny as she was compared to him. Sometimes, because of her giant personality, he almost forgot that she was tiny enough for him to pick up and carry. He was strong enough - stronger than that Chan idiot.

Obviously, he was superior in every way, not that Bunch would notice.

“Well, I’m not running now,” she crossed her arms over her chest.

He looked down and gulped. Well, there went his focus.

Damn her for continually distracting him from his moral high ground. Half the time, she wasn’t even doing it on purpose, but judging by the scheming glint in her eye, she was very aware of what she was doing right now. And she was most definitely up to something - she wanted something from him.

“I’m so proud of you,” sarcasm dripped from his every word.

Was she still on that revenge scheme? Probably.

“Flattered,” she returned. “I’m still not scared, Nathaniel.”

Was she actually trying to make him say her name again, just to prove that she was not going to run away from him again? Yeah, he was not actually dumb enough to meekly follow along with that pathetic little scheme.

He had his pride.

It was not going to keep him warm at night, but he was still going to hold on to it for as long as he could. At least here at school, he had the possibility of maintaining his pride - at home, there was no question he had to swallow it and take whatever his father was in the mood to dish out that day.

“What is it going to take?” Bunch was not amused by his silence.

“What is what going to take?” he just had to play dumb, to make her say it.

Was it about getting something out of her? Perhaps it was, perhaps he just wanted her to eat crow for a bit. Perhaps he just wanted her to be honest for once about where they stood - they’d been hiding in played parts and denial for a while now. Maybe some truth wouldn’t be so bad.

Or maybe it would ruin everything. He’d be forced to give her truths in kind, and he had none to give. There was nothing to give, just pretty words that didn’t mean a thing, and a final dismissal either from her or from him.

Because he didn’t actually care.

“I need you to do it again,” she scrunched up her face at his raised eyebrow. “I need you to say my name again.”

And neither did she. He was a convenient means to end when it came to the Chan Plan - he was not foolish enough to think that she’d given up on Josh Chan just because he’d dumped her. If he apologized, she’d take him back (not that she’d ever had him before).

It was true love after all.

“Is Josh coming by?” he was not fooled.

“Yes,” she couldn’t even look at him as she said it.

He laughed, because what else could he do? Walk away and tell her he was not going to be a part of this ridiculous scheme? That would mean something.

“It won’t work,” he just said, because someone had to say it.

Her friends - since when was she friends with Valencia Perez anyway? - clearly hadn’t discouraged her from any of these ridiculous schemes. Him saying something wouldn’t actually change anything, but at least he said something.

Giving her false hope seemed more cruel, somehow.

“I don’t care,” she seemed smaller then.

Still, he pressed on, reminding himself that he didn’t actually give a damn about her hurt feelings.

Or his own.

“Fine,” he ignored whatever passed for inner turmoil in his head. “If your kink is being called by your first name.”

Yes, he was absolutely going to be an asshole about this. She’d left him hanging, embarrassed him, no matter how much he was not willing to admit that. There was no way that he was going to let her off so easily.

“Nathaniel,” she pointedly caressed every single syllable of his name.

That was not a thing for him. He did not just kinkshame her about this, only to feel his pants getting tight just because she said his full name in that soft voice she hardly ever let him hear, with her head slightly tilted and her eyes filled with warmth.

He was not going to get turned on by her play-acting at kindness. He was going to beat her at this game.

“Rebecca,” his voice was low, hinting at hoarseness.

Did he do that on purpose, or did that just happen when she smiled at him like that?

There was no guile in her in that moment, just a soft smile and a slight widening of her eyes, as if he’d said something that she’d actually been waiting to hear. Had she, maybe - no. No, it didn’t matter.

“Rebecca,” he dumbly repeated, taking a step closer to her.

She followed his lead - that never happened - and moved in closer as well. His eyes frantically roamed the hallway, trying to find Chan’s hiding place. Obviously Rebecca, Bunch had spotted him and now she was just playing along for her revenge plan.

But there was no one else there. Just like in the room, when he was left angry and rejected.

There were so many feelings bubbling up inside of him and he didn’t want to feel any of them - but just being faced with Rebecca so close to him made them impossible to avoid. Maybe he had the right idea when he avoided her for several days in a row.

Avoiding her made things easier, left him clear headed for once, instead of feeling muddled and constantly confused about what the hell was going on with him and where his life was going. He knew exactly where his life was going, he knew what he was going to be doing with the rest of his life, and it had never seemed particularly confusing before.

These stupid losers were getting to him. Rebecca was getting to him.

Rebecca was suspiciously silent, and he was not willing to break the silence either. Any word would just ruin the fragile peace that existed between the two of them.

Her hand had once again landed on his shoulder. He knew where this was going, and he wasn’t exactly protesting.

He wanted her, he was very aware of that. He wasn’t conflicted about that.

She kissed him again.

It wasn’t like the last time. This time she reached up on her tiptoes, her moves gentle and languid as she pressed closer to him.

Their lips met once, twice, and then a third time.

Time slowed down, sped up, and then stopped completely. There was a faint buzzing of people in the hallway. They weren’t alone, but he couldn’t be bothered to see just who was there and what their response was to Rebecca kissing him so softly.

This was everything he’d dreamed of. It was different somehow, but he didn’t exactly understand how. It didn’t make sense.

She pulled back, breathing heavily, and he smiled down at her. He probably looked like a complete dope, but she didn’t make fun of him for it.

“Rebecca,” he said her name again, just because he could.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw Josh Chan passing by. His eyes widened as he saw Rebecca with him, but he never paused.

He didn’t tell Rebecca. That would be cruel.

So they’d kissed again.

It still didn’t mean anything. Not at all.

She just had a brief lapse of judgment and kissed Nathaniel Plimpton in a very public hallway without Josh Chan being anywhere in the vicinity.

Maybe not all was lost though - Josh had probably heard about it by now, because the rumors were spreading like wildfire. Most of the rumors involved him seducing her for some bet (so her She’s All That idea wasn’t even that outlandish), but they at least got the very public kissing right.

Some of the stories even made it seem a little romantic, some story of star-crossed lovers meeting on the stage and falling for each other just as their characters had. Those stories talked of stealing romantic moments - some people even told tales of Nathaniel plying her with romantic gifts.

There were boys who acted more… immaturely. Comments about how she must have some assets that tempted the great Nathaniel Plimpton were now a regular part of her day. Whispered asides about how she must be a freak in the sack lasted for about a week before they quite abruptly stopped.

Nathaniel was behind that, she would put money on it.

She hadn’t talked to him outside of rehearsal for a week. She just couldn’t face him after she’d so stupidly let herself be soft and kind and vulnerable in front of him.

But how could she not have kissed him when he said her name like that?

He’d looked almost lost, those blue eyes wide and questioning. She couldn’t take it, couldn’t stand him looking at her so softly. She had to kiss him.

At least then he wouldn’t stare at her with feelings in his eyes. They looked like feelings anyway, but how would she know what feelings looked like on a soulless automaton like Nathaniel Plimpton the Third?

Except he wasn’t soulless. She’d actually hurt his fragile little man baby feelings when she left that first time. She wasn’t even aware that he could have feelings - she didn’t want him to have that ability.

That was just too much, too complicated. She wanted her revenge on Josh and then she would be free to leave this place in a few months.

New York was calling her and she had to answer. Her future was right there, amidst the bright lights of Broadway, no matter what her mother said about doing pre-law as a solid backup if her little hobby didn’t actually turn into something.

She just had to get through this show without caring too much about Nathaniel, about anyone else. She could leave Paula - there would be other students who needed her help a little too much. She could leave her girl group - they’d forget all about her anyway when they all went to different colleges. Or no college at all, because Valencia was not planning on going anywhere. She could leave Nathaniel in California, leave him to become that asshole he was genetically predisposed to become.

In ten years, at their high school reunion, she’d swoop in with her first Tony award and look down on everyone who’d ever made her feel inferior, and he’d be there with his first (or second) trophy wife, still trying to fill his daddy’s shoes. Maybe their eyes would meet briefly, and she’d remember this moment. But that was how their story ended, how it was supposed to go.

If she wasn’t meant for Josh Chan, maybe she just wasn’t meant for anyone after all. Maybe the stage was supposed to be the real love of her life.

At least she had learned that much.

That was something she could do, throwing herself into her career, throwing herself into the world of Cinderella for these last few weeks (barely months). She could pretend to be the commoner turned princess, and she could sing and dance with her prince.

Ella could have her true love and her happily ever after. Rebecca could have a career and the memory of a few heated kisses with a boy she could never care about.

The hormones were still there, buzzing under her skin, and she would be on top of him right this second if she believed that she could pull it off without him getting soft and gooey and kind on her.

Ugh, that was not hot. It wasn’t.

Why couldn’t he just let her be all over him without consequences?

“Are you comfortable?” Maya pulled at the lacing on the back of her corset. “Not too tight?”

The answer to the first question was definitely a no, but the second question was probably safer to answer. Seeing as that answer would actually be related to her costume.

“It’s fine,” she tried to sound calmer than she currently felt. “Thanks Maya.”

“No probs,” the freshman shrugged. “Short girls have to stick together.”

They pulled on the dress together, awkwardly lifting it over her head as Maya tried not to fall off the stool that was the only way Maya was tall enough to assist with this part.

“Just the zipper now,” Maya easily fixed up the dress.

Shouldn’t it be too tight and uncomfortable? That was her experience with costumes in this school, always made for the pretty, skinny girls. Not this time.

“All done,” the tiny freshman hopped off the stool. “You totes look like a princess. Hashtag fairy tales, hashtag true love’s kiss, hashtag happily ever after.”

And with that, Maya rushed off to help someone else, and she was left staring at herself in the mirror. All she saw was a complete stranger.

She’d pulled her hair back awkwardly, and she wasn’t wearing a crown yet, but from the neck down she looked like an actual princess. The corset emphasized her chest a little too much, but since the dress was actually made with her measurements in mind, she wasn’t too uncomfortable. She actually looked like she had a waist, and the big skirt made her feel like she actually was a princess.

“Knock knock,” Mr. Whitefeather was waiting outside the door.

“I’m coming out,” she called, taking one last look at that strange royal creature she saw in the glass.

How was this regal women the same pathetic girl she saw in her reflection this morning?

Shaking off those thoughts, she stepped out into the hallway, holding her skirts so that she wouldn’t step on them and embarrass herself in front of everyone. There was just so much to this dress that she had to consider.

“Miss Bunch, you look like an actual princess,” Mr. Whitefeather gushed. “I think the color is perfect too. It’ll match your prince.”

Nathaniel would be in costume too. Oh, she hadn’t even considered that. As much as she wanted to think that he might just look ridiculous, she was a woman with eyes. There was not much that Nathaniel could not pull off.

He was going to have the girls in their class throwing their panties at him, and she’d have to pretend like the idea of that didn’t sting.

She was gliding down the hall into the auditorium, where everyone else was gathering to see their friends in their costumes. Heather and Valencia were helping each other, adjusting bows and lines on each other’s dresses, touches lingering a little longer than strictly necessary.

So that was happening now.

“Meet your princess,” Mr. Whitefeather stopped them right in front of Nathaniel.

She looked up at him slowly, terrified that he’d shatter her blooming confidence with a well-placed remark - but even more scared that he would not react at all.

Everything stilled for a second, and then their eyes met.

His reaction was everything she hoped for. Not that she’d thought about his reaction to her in this dress even for a second. No not at all.

Once again, he stood ramrod straight, almost too still to keep breathing. His eyes roamed over her body slowly, hotly, until she felt goosebumps break out on her skin. He took a deep breath then, his body slowly going back to normal posture as he tried to act like she didn’t affect him at all.

Well buddy, kinda missed the mark on that one.

She was getting to him, and not even in his stupid heart-eyed way. No, this was chemistry fizzling between them, desperately trying to pull them closer.

It was Mr. Whitefeather who gave them an excuse, a reason other than just temporary insanity to reach for each other.

“How about you try your dance?” Mr. Whitefeather proposed. “You need to get a feel for how the dress is going to move. You might need to adjust the distance between you two a bit. You’ve been dancing closer than the dress might allow. We just need to be sure.”

They had been moving closer and closer in rehearsals - she didn’t think anyone would notice, except maybe Nathaniel. He noticed. She’d felt that he noticed.

Her face was flushing just thinking about how often she’d noticed, about how sometimes it seemed like he was in a constant state of arousal around her. It was only fair.

“Your highness,” she curtsied and he bowed.

The kiss on the hand had never officially been added to their choreography, he’d just started doing it one time and it had stuck. And they’d never faked the gesture, had always committed to this part wholeheartedly and grabbed on to any excuse they had to touch each other. Or at least, that was her excuse. Was it his as well?

“Milady,” he murmured as he stood up straight. “Would you like to dance?”

She could hear music in the background, and everyone else in the room was fading away until there was no one there except the two of them, just as it was supposed to be. Her stupid, confusing prince had placed his hand in hers again, and she’d tried not to trip over her skirts as he swept her off her feet.

The music got louder, and they swept through the choreography like it was second nature, because by now it was. She felt like she would remember these steps for the rest of her life, like she could be woken up in the middle of the night and still follow every step.

Still, it was different with her giant skirt swishing between the two of them. Breathing was difficult enough, but that had nothing to do with the corset and everything to do with the way her prince just would not stop looking at her.

He led her around the floor, still pressing as close to her as her damn dress would allow - not close enough, but they managed. Their hands were the only real points of contact for a while, until they fell into the crescendo of movements that led to her favorite part of the dance: the ending.

Nathaniel’s arms were around her waist, and as she let herself fall down into his hold without hesitation, he never stopped looking at her face, even though her chest was right freaking there and looking spectacular in her corset.

His eyes never strayed as he held her for endless seconds. Her heart was pounding heavily in her chest. There was glitter exploding inside of her once again.

Gently, slowly, safely he pulled her up into a standing position, standing much too close for this to be entirely proper for a royal ball.

She did not care, and neither did he.

God, she wanted to kiss him again, wanted to hear him break the illusion of acting by whispering her name in her ear. Had anyone ever said her name quite like that, like they were marvelling at the luck of being allowed to say it?

No one that she could remember.

“Nathaniel Plimpton,” a deep voice bellowed. “You take off that ridiculous outfit this instance! What do you think you are doing?”

That broke the soft spell they’d been under. There were others in the room again, but she refused to look in the direction of the voice - maybe Mr. Whitefeather would send away the intruder and they’d just be able to try again.

This was not how it ended.

She glanced up at Nathaniel. He’d gone completely still in the most unnatural way, as if he’d snap in half if she so much as breathed on him too harshly. His eyes were wide, his skin no longer golden but pale and clammy in her warm hold.

��Father,” he breathed, panic in his electric blue eyes.

AN: Soooooo, thoughts? :P

#rethaniel #rebecca x nathaniel #otp: can’t be with cedric if you’re already with ron #crazy ex girlfriend #my stories #fic: all the men and women merely players

15 notes · View notes