#but I also love the scene where frank asks if everything's all right because he can tell something's off | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

toomanytookas · 8 months ago

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*throws confetti* in celebration of the delight that is this chapter

I don't want to forget to mention them, so I'll start by saying yay for more Beth and Ellie! It was hearbreaking to get a more in-depth explanation of the shared trauma and difficult, tangled dynamic that they have with the readers' sister, but of course you did it in such a gentle way where the reader had Joel as such an understanding and caring listener. It's beautiful to see that the three of them have such a strong and healthy and happy dynamic on the other side of the worst of things and knowing the depth of the past just furthers how wonderful it is to see Ellie be this sassy teenager who clearly has known love and is able to give her own into the world. I'm looking forward to Joel meeting them and particularly to see how he approaches meeting Ellie.

To pair the other comment I have about the more emotionally vulnerable side of this chapter, that comment you made in a reply to me the other week about about her liking everything Joel does and that being meaningful and special for him makes even more sense now. I love how the way they fit so well together is something that is healing and validating for them both.

In that vein as well, I loved that frank discussion of the things that needed to be talked about for now and the things that could maybe be left for later regarding their kinks and safety and consent, especially with ALLLLLL of the anticipation and excitement of wanting to know what those other things could be buzzing in the reader's head (believe me I'm also curious especially since you mentioned that they explore more stuff in my kink ask hahaha. Even if you don't include them all in these final chapters, I would love to just see their list someday or something).

This cracked me up: “I just asked you to fuck me while I’m asleep, I think we can be honest with each other." I loved how that infusion of humour demonstrated how matter-of-fact this conversation was in a way? Yes, it is serious and yes it was important, but it also wasn't ceremonial, it was a talk between them like any other.

Ok. Now we're gonna go in for it. AND HOLY HELL WAS I IN FOR IT.

A bit of an aside:

I have to laugh a bit because my birthday is November 10, so even though we’re in a completely different timeline from them, it does somehow feel like this was some sort of extra treat for me that they were doing this on that day in their world. 😂

I genuinely can’t remember at this point if this is the first time we are seeing from Joel’s perspective, but WHAT a rush to get it for this scene. All of those moments of him thinking the reader is in the edge of waking up before he’s reached his initial goal of being inside her literally started to make my heart pound a little, it was soooo good.

I looooved the contrast of these two passages together:

You were so fucking responsive, even in your sleep — you followed his instructions perfectly and your thighs shifted just enough for his cock to slip between them.

He wanted to see the exact moment you woke up and realized he was doing as you asked, he was doing what you wanted. He was giving it to you just right.

When I've thought about my approach to writing softdomming and devising scenes for it in the past, I've spent a lot of time thinking about the fact that it is often just as much about providing service and care and performing a bit of wish fulfillment as it is about asking for submission and receiving the fruits of submissive acts... It’s kind of how you frame it (that you are the provider, that you are creating a safe and gentle space, that you are the protector that makes it possible for your sub to let go and enjoy the moment) that makes the experience what it is rather than what the acts themselves are and how the roles of giving and receiving might typically be perceived/aligned... A sub could just as easily be performing the same acts as part of their submission, but the framing of it, the mentality of why it's happening and what it does for the other person, is part of what makes it a contribution to the dynamic and the energy of the scene.

ANYWAY, that was really long especially since they're not *expressly* engaging in a negotiated full on D/s thing here (lol oops sorry but I figured you might be interested/wouldn't mind chatting about this more so I figured I'd go ahead and include it!), but this felt like such a perfect example of how someone might hold both of those thoughts of delighting in someone's responsiveness and submission while at the same time thriving on a situation in which being the more dominant actor is thrilling because it has to do with doing something that they know their partner wants. It put me in such a great space to hear Joel’s inner monologue of it all and I really, really, really loved it.

This comment is getting OUT OF HAND so I'm not going to keep talking your ear off, but the switch back to the reader's perspective was brilliant and the way Joel turned on his beautiful mouth once she was awake again made the contrast of everything that had come before it so, so, so good and it all was just delightful. I would absolutely have cried from the pleasure and safety of the space, too.

🧡

Maintenance Request Chapter 19

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 7.6k

chapter summary: you and Joel have your third date, a bit of a discussion, and try something new together when Joel stays at your place for the first time. 👀

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 fun fact, I wrote the second half of this chapter in a sort of fugue state, late one night during NaNo last year. I swear this just poured out of me. Joel knew what he wanted. 😂 happy chapter 19 on the 19th!

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, pretty girl, good girl, handsome, cowboy), kink negotiation, some discussion of past relationships, somnophilia (kissing, fondling, p-in-v sex), mention of breasts, dream sex, dirty talk, a bit of crying while being fucked (in a good way)

Chapter 19

Saturday, November 9 Eleventh week of the semester

The rest of the week was a whirlwind – you saw Joel for at least a few minutes every day, and you talked on the phone most nights. By Thursday, you had your next date planned. Sarah had a sleepover on Saturday, so Joel was going to stay the night at your apartment. For the first time.

On Saturday, you caught Beth and Ellie up with your new relationship status – Beth had been pestering you about it since you’d told her about it over text (tell me everything!!) – and they immediately started complaining about how they hadn’t met him yet.

“I know! I know,” you wanted to wave your hands in front of their faces to get them to chill out. “I was thinking I could invite him to brunch next week.” You took a big gulp of coffee and watched their reactions.

Ellie narrowed her eyes and stared at you. Beth looked thoughtful.

“You sure you want him to meet both of us at once?” Beth asked, and Ellie snorted. “Throw him in the deep end?”

You shrugged. “I mean, he can handle it or he can’t. But I’m pretty sure he can.”

Beth smiled. “Fine with me. What about you, Hell’s Bells?”

Ellie glared at Beth for the nickname, as always, but you knew she secretly loved it.

“I guess that’s fine.” She furrowed her brow and stabbed a piece of egg with her fork. “If he does anything weird or fucked up I’m not gonna ignore it.”

You nodded. “I wouldn’t ask you to. But he’s not an asshole.” She squinted at you. “I know, Ells. But you know I trust you, right? If you did notice something, I’d want you to tell me. And I’d listen.” You knew you weren’t really talking about Joel, at this point, but you wanted her to know that anyway. She nodded and sighed.

“Yeah I mean I do want to meet him. He can come to brunch.” Ellie shrugged.

“Thank you. I’ll ask him tonight.”

Beth nudged Ellie with her shoulder. “Maybe I can meet him this week for lunch, first, give you a full report.” Ellie laughed, but you could see the idea relaxed her a little bit.

“Oh!” Ellie sat up straight. “What are you cooking for him?”

Beth pointed at you with a forkful of pancake. “Do not make soup.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was one time!”

Ellie smirked. “Even if you don’t create Soup Geyser: The Sequel, it’s probably not a good date food. What if you spill it all over yourself?”

Beth laughed. “I dunno, maybe that’s a good thing. Then you can take your clothes off.”

Ellie dramatically gagged and covered her ears. “I don’t want to know about that!”

You and Beth both laughed as she started in on a monologue about how men, and hearing about her aunt dating them, were gross.

…

Later that afternoon, you’d just finished cleaning up and making sure the food was almost ready when you realized you needed to change before Joel arrived. You stepped into your bedroom and stripped off your shirt at the exact moment you heard a knock at your door. Shit.

You froze, not sure what to do, when he knocked again. “Shit,” you said out loud. You were standing in your bedroom in a lounge bra and sweatpants. How did you lose track of time so badly? You ran to the front door.

You hesitated once you got there but reasoned that Joel had already seen you naked, so you’d just open it and then run back to change. You nodded to yourself, and then opened the door, shielding your body behind it.

“Hey, darlin’, everything alright?” He looked like he’d been about to knock again. He eyed your bare shoulder.

“Sorry, Joel, wasn’t quite ready yet. You can come in and I’ll go change.”

He smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Guess I am a little early.”

You laughed and invited him in, and watched as his eyes swept down your body. “You sure you need to change? I like this look.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, Joel, go sit on the couch. I’ll be back in a minute.” He did as you said while you ran back to your room and changed into the outfit you’d picked out earlier (complete with some green lingerie underneath – it was his favorite color, after all).

When you arrived back in the living room, you found Joel looking at the pictures lining your fireplace mantle. “I recognize Ellie and Beth,” he said. “Is this your sister?”

You stepped up next to him and nodded. “Yep. And our parents.” You continued on your photo tour for a few minutes, introducing Joel to your family as you went. He snaked an arm around your waist and leaned in behind you.

“This shirt’s pretty on you, baby.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder.

You smirked at him over your shoulder. “Thought you liked the other look?”

Joel grinned, unrepentant. “I can like both, can’t I?” You laughed and led him into your kitchen.

“Sure you can. Have a seat, dinner will be ready in just a sec.”

He sat, and soon enough you joined him and placed the food in the middle of the table, which you’d set earlier, before he arrived. You poured him a drink and dug in. He complimented the food, sincerely, which made you smile.

“So, you’re officially invited to brunch next weekend.” Joel snapped his head up to meet your gaze. He looked surprised, and pleased.

“I am?”

You smiled. “Sure are. Got the Ellie-and-Beth stamp of approval.”

He grinned. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“We might do lunch with Beth during the week, first.”

He nodded. “Whatever they want, darlin’. I want Ellie to be comfortable.” He reached over to squeeze your hand. “That’s the most important thing.”

“Thanks, Joel. I know she’s not actually my kid, but in some ways she is.” He tilted his head at you, considering your words. “Yeah, I know it’s confusing. Well, you know Ellie’s 14. My sister had her right out of high school.”

“Not too different from when I had Sarah.” You nodded.

“Yeah, she had a rough time. Ellie used to come stay with me a lot, even when she was really little. And then, um. Right after I finally broke up with Matt, Ellie actually lived with me and Beth for about…” you looked up at the ceiling, counting back in time. “About 2 years? Almost. When she was 9.”

Joel nodded, taking that in. “It makes sense that you’re so close.”

You smiled. “Yeah, hard not to be. And Beth helped a lot, so they’re pretty close, too. But my sister is doing a lot better now. She used to, um…” You trailed off, thinking through what you wanted to say. “Well, part of the reason Ellie is more wary of people I might date is that my sister dated, um, more than a few men, and they were in and out of their house all the time. That’s part of the reason she lived with me. Not all of it.” Joel nodded, face solemn. He squeezed your hand between his own. “But yeah, she’s doing a lot better. She’s a nurse, works a lot of weekends and nights. Ellie has her own room here and sort of comes and goes as she pleases. Their relationship is a lot better than it used to be, too.”

“That sounds like it was hard, to send her back.” You sighed. He was so good at seeing right to the heart of what you were thinking. And feeling.

“It was, and it wasn’t. I’m so glad they’re doing better, you know? But I do miss having her here all the time, even now. And now she’s a teenager and wants to be with her friends anyway.”

He laughed a little. “I’m familiar with that change.”

You laughed, too. “Yeah, I bet. But she’s doing well in school and she actually talks to her mom about her life, so I feel like it’s going pretty well. And I sort of have my sister back.”

Joel scooted his chair a bit closer to yours and put his arm around the back. “Sort of?”

You sighed and closed your eyes. “Our relationship took a hit during all of that. But it’s getting better. We talk more now. She’s been teasing me about you.”

For a moment you both sat quietly as he considered what you shared and you leaned in to him, head on his shoulder.

“Everything I learn about you impresses me more, sweetheart.” He murmured his words into your hair, and it made you shiver.

“What? Joel–”

“It’s true.” he squeezed you against him. “Not everyone would do that, you know. Even for family. It’s…” he sighed. “I love watching you get to know Sarah. I know I’m going to love seeing you with your niece. It’s just something special. Getting to know you in every way I can.” You leaned up to press a kiss to his chin and felt him smile in response.

You were quiet again until you felt Joel shift underneath you. “Joel? What is it?” You leaned back to look at his face, and caught him staring at your cabinets with a frown on his face. “Joel.”

“Hmm?”

“Joel Miller, are you looking at my broken cabinet door and thinking about how you want to fix it?”

You watched as a flush took over his cheeks. “Maybe I am.” He sounded sheepish and you grinned.

“I don’t think I even have the tools you’d need. Sorry.”

He shook his head, frowning at you playfully. “What, not even a hammer?”

“Ok, I probably have a hammer. And maybe, like, a couple of screwdrivers.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. I’ll fix it another time.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Darlin’,” he cut you off. “I’ll fix it.” He smiled at you, amused by your protest. “You know it won’t take me even five minutes.”

You laughed, loving his confidence. “Oh yeah? Well, who am I to argue with my Hot Maintenance Guy?”

He bit back on a smile and tilted his head. “Thought I was Hot Construction Guy?”

You grinned. “You are. And Hot Maintenance Guy, and Hot Gardening Guy. Whatever I’d seen you doing that day.”

Joel laughed and pulled you into a short kiss. “Well, I’m definitely your maintenance guy. So I’m definitely gonna fix those cabinets.” You sighed, giving in.

“Not right now, though. We have better things to do.”

He perked up. “Oh? Like what?”

“Let’s clean up and then you’ll find out.” You winked as you stood to gather your plate.

Between the two of you, you made quick work of the dishes and leftovers. It was nice, doing something so domestic with Joel. You fit together by the sink and moved around each other in the kitchen like you’d done it before, like it was comfortable. You’d never smiled so much while doing dishes in your life.

“There is something I wanted to ask you about, honey.” You turned to look at him where he was washing a pot as you dried your plates.

“Oh? About what?” You saw a tiny smirk in the corner of his mouth and narrowed your eyes.

“Just about what you said, when we were in bed after our first date.” You flushed, feeling the heat enter your cheeks. But you also appreciated that Joel was bringing this up while you were doing something so totally unrelated to sex. So you could focus. Or try to, anyway.

“Yeah, I remember.” You bit your lip.

He cleared his throat. “Ah, well, did you, um. Can you tell me more about what you like? And don’t like? I like the sound of it, you know that, but I’d never want to get it wrong.”

“Um, yes. I, well. I like waking up and already…” You took a deep breath and told yourself to act like a freaking adult. “I like to already be having sex, basically. To wake up with your mouth on– on my pussy. Or your fingers inside of me. Or your cock.” You felt more than saw Joel’s sharp intake of breath and smiled. “It’s difficult to do that last one without waking me up, but it’s my favorite.”

Joel coughed. “I, um, I really want that, too.” You finally met his gaze with your own and you could see how much he wanted it. You held your breath. “Shit, sweetheart, that sounds so fucking good. I just… since you’d be asleep, I want to make sure I’m doing the right thing. Since I can’t check in with you.”

You put down the plate you’d finished drying five minutes ago and turned towards him, taking his hands in yours and drying them off with the towel. “I trust you, Joel. I know you’d do it how I wanted – make sure I’m ready, and all that.” You finished drying his hands and put the towel down on the counter before lacing your fingers through his. You considered your next words. “I don’t… we can use a safe word. We don’t have to talk about all of that right now.” He squeezed your hands in response. “But I do have one. We can use it, so you know when my reactions are good and if they’re not. I know I can’t use it while I’m asleep, but it could help.” He disentangled and lifted one hand to place it under your chin and guide your eyes back up to meet his.

“I’d like that, honey. And I’d like to talk about that more later, what other things you might like. That we might like together. But we can take it slow.” You nodded, smiling. “And, um. Well. Remember when I told you there were issues with Sarah’s mom that she didn’t know about?”

You nodded. “I do, but Joel, you don’t have to explain now–”

“No, I mean,” he interrupted you but then took a deep breath. “I just wanted to say, part of it was that we weren’t really compatible. At all. She thought, well. That some of the things I like are…” He trailed off and you tilted your chin to press a kiss to the hand still cupping your face, encouraging him. “She thought I was strange for wantin’ ‘em. Like all the sweet things I like to call you, honey, and how I like to call you mine. To her it was too much, not what she wanted. We can talk about it more but like I said, we can take it slow. Figure it out together.”

You felt the shiver run up your spine at the idea of learning what more he might like to try with you. “I just asked you to fuck me while I’m asleep, I think we can be honest with each other.” He grinned.

“So, tomorrow morning? Want me to try it?” You nodded. “I need to hear your words, sweetheart.” As he asked he slipped his right hand around the back of your neck and pulled you closer. His lips brushed yours and you shivered.

“Yes, Joel,” you felt your pulse pick up at the idea and heard the hitch in your breath.

“Yeah, baby? You’d want to wake up with me already inside you?” Your eyes fell closed and you nodded. He pressed a kiss to your jaw, just in front of your ear. “Maybe my fingers? Maybe my tongue?” He licked the shell of your ear. You shivered and your hips squirmed as you pressed your thighs together. “You want to wake up to find my cock already deep inside this pretty pussy?”

“Yes, Joel,” you breathed again. “I love it. Yes, please —” you cut off as he gripped your chin in his hand.

“Shhh, honey. Shit, what a good girl you are, letting me slip inside you while you’re asleep, huh? Take whatever I want? Give you what I want?” You sighed. “Can’t believe it. So fucking perfect for me.” He kissed your neck again as his thumb covered your lips, holding your mouth closed. He took a deep breath and relaxed again.

“Well, honey, I told you before. I’ll give you whatever you want. So I guess we’ll see in the morning, hmm?” You grinned under his finger and nodded. “But maybe we can get started right now.”

...

Sunday, November 10 Eleventh week of the semester

In the morning, Joel woke up first. Before he even opened his eyes, he felt the warmth — the warmth of the sun through the window, the bed beneath him, and the soft wonder of your body against his. You’d moved in the night, but not much. He was still wrapped around you, just with more space between your bodies, his right arm thrown across your waist. He blinked his eyes open slowly, careful not to move as he took in a deep breath and just looked at you.

You were on your side, turned away from him, but he could see the outline of your profile over your shoulder. You were peaceful in your sleep, mouth slightly open, eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. He stared, almost stunned to find you with him in bed again. How did I get so fucking lucky?

As he looked at you, careful not to move his arm, your discussion from last night came back to him and suddenly he was hard. He was so fucking hard, his cock filling so fast it took his breath away as the blood rushed south.

You wanted him to be inside of you when you woke up. It was a fucking dream even thinking about it. He wanted it, fuck, he wanted it so fucking bad, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. How could he manage it, without waking you?

He kept his breathing even, despite his cock urging him forward, and considered what to do. It was still early, and you’d told him you liked to sleep in on weekends. So maybe he had time on his side. (He always woke up early, because of Sarah.) The first thing he needed to do was get rid of his briefs.

Joel slowly, gently, pulled his arm up from around you. You shifted in your sleep, but he moved slowly and successfully snuck it away. You settled back into your pillow and remained deeply asleep. He sighed in victory.

Slowly, cautiously, careful not to shake the bed, he reached down to slide his briefs off, kicking them somewhere in the sheets. He watched you the whole time, but you breathed evenly, slowly. Still asleep. He smiled. Maybe he could do this.

He rolled back onto his side and considered you. You were a few inches from him. Maybe if he slowly came up behind you you’d snuggle into him in your sleep, making it easier to touch. He nodded to himself. That was probably the best way to start.

Slowly, trying to move like he was asleep himself, he scooted towards you on the bed until his chest came back into contact with your back. He slowed even more there, gently pressing against you until you responded in your sleep — your body titled back against his, moving unconsciously together until he had you spooned in front of him again. He was careful to angle his cock down, not to get it stuck against your ass. (Even though the thought of pressing in between your cheeks almost had him thrusting forward, overcome with want.)

Joel took a moment to breathe in his success. He had you wrapped in his arms again, and he could feel your naked ass pressed against his pelvis. It was so fucking good already. He took a deep breath to calm himself. He was close to what he wanted, but he didn’t want to fuck this up.

He carefully curled his body so his hips moved forwards, and his breath caught as his cock almost arrived right where he wanted it. The tip poked at the join of your thighs, and he sighed. Now what? How would he get any closer? He paused to consider his options again.

But you, it turned out, were on board, even in your sleep. Suddenly you let out a tiny, breathless moan, and he stilled. Peering over your shoulder, he saw that you were still asleep. A dream? He grinned. He could work with that.

Leaving his hips where they were for now, he lightly ran his fingertips up your torso until he was cupping your breast. He tried to use the lightest touch, to encourage your dream without waking you up. He teased the very tip of one finger over your nipple and your body relaxed against him, like you were a puppet and your strings were cut. He stilled again, but you were still asleep. He was on the right track.

He watched your face intently as he lightly teased your nipple with his fingertip. In your sleep, your mouth opened wider, and you sighed. He was mesmerized, watching as your tongue peeked out of your mouth, the tip just touching your bottom lip. He realized his own mouth was hanging open, the desire to lick inside yours almost palpable in the air around him. He suppressed a shiver.

Suddenly, you tilted your head to the side and whispered something. He leaned closer, not quite hearing you. To his great joy, you did it again, and he realized you had whispered his name. “Joel…” he grinned. He had to have you, just like this. Had to give you exactly what you wanted. He just had to figure out what to do about your legs.

He looked down and saw that your feet were twisting in the sheets. He wondered if this was his chance. Lightly slipping from your breast, he slowly moved his hand down to your thigh. You muttered something, but a quick check showed him you were still very much asleep. He only needed an inch, at most.

Ever so lightly, he gripped your thigh and pressed to ease it upwards. You were so fucking responsive, even in your sleep — you followed his instructions perfectly and your thighs shifted just enough for his cock to slip between them. He gasped, and then stilled as his eyes quickly sought your face again. Still asleep. He moved back to his previous position, hand on your breast, before thrusting slowly forward. His cock lined up perfect against your slit, and his eyes almost rolled back when he realized how fucking wet you were. Again. Fuck. His cock glided smoothly against you and he had to fight to keep from letting himself thrust inside, from filling you up right then and there.

Joel teased lightly at your nipple as he gently pulled back again before thrusting his hips forward once more. This time his cock nestled inside your folds and he heard a breathy little moan punch itself out of you when the tip of his cock nudged your clit. He grinned. Yes.

He kept that up for a few more thrusts — gentle movement, he told himself, slow and steady, so fucking wet, sliding so easily against you, fuck — watching your face like a hawk for any trace of wakefulness.

On the next pass, his cock almost caught against your entrance, and he stifled a deep moan of his own. Fuck me. That was the final hurdle, he knew. How could he slip inside you without waking you up? He’d have to go slow, ease into you, so slow and smooth you’d never notice.

He forced himself to keep his hands light, not to grip or pull or tug. At the same time his hips moved with almost terrifying precision. He knew you were wet enough, and still ready from last night. He just had to take the final step.

Joel took a deep breath and, eyes still locked on your face, let himself nudge at your entrance on the next thrust. He stopped there, just there, with the tip of his cock nestled right at the place he most wanted to be.

His heartbeat was racing and he felt winded. He wondered if his pounding heart would wake you before his cock did.

Gently, so gently it almost knocked him out, he pushed forward with his hips. The head of his cock pushed against you before sliding past your entrance, stopping just inside. Joel realized his mouth was hanging open as he stared at you. He felt torn. He wanted to look down, to see, but he was afraid if he looked away even for a moment you’d wake up. He gritted his teeth and kept his eyes on your face.

He pushed forward again, and he felt his cock sink deeper inside you. Fuck. Your cunt was fucking perfect. He had no idea how you could be so fucking wet all the time. Were you always like this? You’d said it was just for him, but did that mean you were always like this around him? Shit. Hold it together.

He was panting. He tried to keep it quiet, but it was so much. So fucking much. He blinked to keep his eyes from closing.

Joel took a deep breath, still focused on you, and took one more gentle thrust to slide himself all the way home. He bit down so hard on his lip to fight back a moan he was worried he drew blood. He realized he’d let go of your breast to clutch at the comforter beneath you and was in danger of leaning his weight forward to fall on top of you. He stilled. He panted. He stared at your face.

You were somehow still asleep. How?

He took the gift he was offered and moved. His hips pulled gently back, and he felt every inch of your cunt squeeze tight around his cock as he pulled out, until only the head of his cock was left stretching your entrance open. He breathed in through his nose, and then breathed out steadily while thrusting back in at that same slow, infuriating pace. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck me.

He managed three or four more agonizing thrusts, doing everything he could to be silent and gentle, to keep you sleeping while he fucked you. He realized now the goal was for you to wake up, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He paused inside you after his next thrust, taking a deep breath, looking over your slumbering face. He started to smile.

Slowly, gently, he leaned down towards your neck as he pulled almost all the way out of you again. As he slid home this time, just a tiny bit faster, he pressed a kiss to your neck, right under your ear. You moaned. His smile turned feral.

He continued like that, thrusting inwards and pressing kisses to your neck and your shoulder, getting wetter and sloppier each time. Your breaths started to come faster and faster, and then he noticed your hips were starting to push back against his.

His eyes flew back to your face. He had to see it. He wanted to see the exact moment you woke up and realized he was doing as you asked, he was doing what you wanted. He was giving it to you just right.

He wanted to push you over the edge. On his next thrust he cupped your breast again, and your voice was clearer this time, calling out to him in your sleep. “Yes, Joel, yes,” he teased your nipple and thrust forward. “Joel,” you called out, brow furrowing. He knew it was coming. He stared at you, and on the next thrust, he pinched your nipple at the same moment his cock bottomed out inside of you.

It was fucking heaven. Fucking transcendent. Your eyes flew open as you gasped, throwing your head back onto his shoulder. Your hands grasped at nothing until they found his arm, and you clutched at him. He pulled out again and thrust back inside you, hard, and you cried out. He smiled.

…

You were having the most amazing dream. Everything was warmth and pleasure and there was a man holding you and you knew it was Joel. Joel, wrapped around you. You were floating together, somehow, twisting together as he spooned you from behind, but somehow also kissed you and touched you, everywhere. You sighed.

His embrace tightened and you hitched your leg over his. “Mm, that’s my good girl,” you heard him say, and it melted through you like hot chocolate. “That’s it, baby. Show me.” You weren’t sure what he wanted you to show him, so you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue. “Fuck yeah, baby. Let me see that tongue.”

Dream Joel, somehow spooning you and making out with you at the same time, licked your tongue as you stuck it out for him. The slide of your tongues together made you press your thighs tight. “You’re so goddamn hot baby,” he muttered in your ear while making out with you. You moaned back, somehow still kissing him, “Joel.” He grinned at you, wicked and intent. He bent down suddenly to lick at your nipples and you gasped. “Joel!” He smiled and you hummed at the feeling of him worshiping your tits.

In your dream the two of you were floating upwards, towards something — there was light above you, and warmth below you. Everything felt amazing.

Dream Joel ran his hands down your body, grasping at your hips and your legs. You smiled. “Love the way you look, honey,” he murmured, and you told him you loved the way he looked, too. He smiled. “Open up for me, then, sweet thing. Let me inside.” You did as he asked and opened your legs. Dream Joel, talented man that he was, managed to kiss you and eat you out at the same time, and you sighed into it, mouth opening for him again. And then you felt something warm and hard and gorgeous slide against your pussy. You sighed and pushed back onto it.

“Inside, Joel,” you tried to demand, your voice weak and breathy. He chuckled, darkly. “Not yet baby, wanna feel you.” He slid his cock back and forth against your soaking wet pussy and you moaned. “You feel so good on my cock, honey. You hear that?” You listened, and you heard him panting behind you, heard the slick glide of his cock as it nestled in your folds. “Shit, sweetheart. You’re so wet for me.”

“Always,” you sighed out.

“I know you are, baby. Can’t stop thinking about it, about sneaking my fingers inside your underwear everywhere we go, see if you’re ready for me. Ready for me to slip inside you, no matter where we are.”

You nodded. “Always ready for you, Joel. Always want you inside me. Want you inside me right now.”

“Honey I told you, I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t you worry.” Dream Joel slid back again, and on his next thrust his cock notched right at your entrance, and you sighed. “Yes, please, Joel.”

“Shhh, honey. Just let me give it to you. I’ll give you whatever you want, you know that. All you have to do is lie there and take it.” You moaned as he pressed the head of his cock inside of you. It felt huge and perfect and warm and like you never wanted to be without it.

Dream Joel rubbed his hands up your torso as he fucked into you from behind. “That’s it, honey. Take me inside you. Let me fill you up. Let me stuff my cum so deep inside of you it’ll be dripping out for hours.” Your breath caught at the idea and you started to breathe harder and faster. He pinched your nipples and thrust into you, hard. “Feel it, honey? Feel how perfectly my cock fits inside this cunt?”

“Yes, Joel, yes,” you cried, almost crying for real. “I need it.”

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he crooned, softly. “You’re such a good girl, you know that? Such a good fucking girl for me. Letting me put my cock inside you whenever I want, letting me fill you up. Sitting on my cock like an angel. Like you were meant to be right here, in my lap.” Dream Joel thrust inside of you again, and you cried out.

“Joel, please,” you sighed as your brows pinched together. The dream suddenly felt so real, so physical, you couldn’t figure out which way was up or down. You were spinning, falling, and when you crash landed back into your body you gasped.

Your eyes flew open and all you could feel was Joel. He was fucking everywhere. His body was pressed all along your back, his fingers pinched your nipple, his mouth was on your jaw.

And his cock was hard, and it was deep, deep inside of you.

Your head flew back as you gasped for air, staring up at the ceiling without seeing. Your hands grasped for purchase on something, anything that would hold you there, keep you from flying apart and spiraling into the air, until they found his arm and you held on for dear life. Suddenly Joel pulled his hips back and then thrust inside of you, hard. You cried out, maybe his name, maybe no words at all. Fuck. You needed to catch your breath. Your hips were pinned under his, your pussy wet and dripping and tightening around his cock. You could feel a tear slip from your eye to land on the pillow under your head. Fuck me.

Before you could even try to make sense of your surroundings, to catch your breath, Joel’s lips found your ear.

“Good morning, honey.” His voice was deep and rumbling and fucking vicious. He thrust inside you again, pinching your nipple and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Your next breath came out like a sob. “How’d you sleep?” You felt a tear form at the edge of your eye again, and he curled forward to kiss it away. “Shh, baby, you’re ok. You’re so fucking good, honey, my good fucking girl.” He thrust inside of you again, and his cock slid against you so easily, so wonderfully, that you breathed through another sob. “Honey?”

You realized, distantly, that he was starting to worry about you. You squeezed his arm. You had to say something.

“Y— yes, Joel. Yes.” You felt him grin against your shoulder.

“Yeah, honey? That feel good?” You nodded, frantically, reaching one hand back to grasp at his hip. “You want it bad, don’t you? Want this cock to split you open?” Your breath hitched, again. “Want me to push deep inside you, don’t you, sweet thing? Fill you up? Leave you fucking dripping?”

Real Joel echoing Dream Joel spun you upwards again, disorienting you in your pleasure. You whined, and thrust your hips backwards towards him. He pulled out and slammed his cock back into you, pulling back on your hip to urge you onto him. “Fuck, honey, you need it, don’t you? You need it so bad.” You could only grasp at him and nod, feeling another tear run down the side of your face. He kissed that one away, too.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. You can have this cock whenever you want.” He thrust forward again, pinning you to the bed. Your right knee bent in front of you and he followed, curving his body into the same position, somehow driving his cock deeper. “It’s yours. Yours to use, honey. Yours to touch, to lick, to sit on whenever you want.” He started up a steady pace, pushing his cock inside of you so deeply, so right on every thrust. Your face was turned, left side on the pillow, profile still open to him. He pressed kisses everywhere he could reach.

“I’m going to make you come, honey. And I want to see it.” He curved his right hand over your hip, seeking out your clit with his fingers. “I want you to come on my cock. I want to feel you squeeze me, baby, squeeze me so fucking tight.” You sighed into the pillow. “Can you do that for me? Yeah, ‘course you can. Be a good girl, honey, and come for me.”

His fingers started circling your clit, and you felt it building inside of you like a tidal wave. It was almost too much, so much, more than you could handle. You were actually crying now, tears running down your face that he kissed away. “J— Joel,” you whined, and he twisted to press a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“That’s right, honey. Let me have it. It’s mine.”

Something about the way he claimed it, claimed you, sent you over the edge. You flew over it, into the air, twisting, falling, electrified. The orgasm erupted through you, and you felt more wet gush out of you, absolutely soaking his cock. He groaned.

“Holy fucking shit, honey. Yes. Fucking give it to me.” He talked you through it, pressing kisses anywhere he could reach. It shuddered through you and you clamped down on him as your orgasm crested. You sobbed one more time, and he bit down on your shoulder to ground you.

As you came down, you realized his hips were speeding up. You whined and thrust your hips backwards again. You wanted it. You wanted him, inside of you, dripping out of you, like he promised. He nodded, seeming to understand.

“That’s right, honey. I’m going to give it to you. That’s what good girls get, right? And you were perfect, honey. My good fucking girl.” You clutched at the pillow as you pushed your hips back, trying to tilt them to give him the best angle. He sank deeper, somehow, and moaned. “I’m going to give it to you so deep, baby, so fucking deep.” He sighed, dreamily. “Fuck.”

His thrusts picked up, and you let yourself drift, feeling perfectly used as Joel pumped his hips into yours. His thrusts caught, uneven, and you heard him groan from deep in his chest. He clutched at you, with one final, devastating thrust, and came. His mouth was hot on your ear as he said your name in a voice that made it sound like a prayer.

For a moment, neither of you moved. You were both breathing hard, and you were a fucking mess — wet, everywhere — cum all over, sweaty, and tears that had dripped down your face and soaked your pillow.

Joel sucked in a deep breath and carefully, gently, pulled out of you. You still gasped — you were sensitive from the night before, still, and he’d just fucked you so hard you’d cried, for god’s sake — but he was so soft and gentle with you that it barely hurt.

He flopped to your left on the bed, and with a groan, you heaved yourself onto your right side so you could look at him. You fell in the wet spot, but honestly, the entire bed was probably a wet spot at that point.

He turned his head, and for a minute you just looked at each other. You’d thought you’d seen him wrecked before, but that was nothing. You could see, now, what it actually looked like. And he was wrecked. You imagined you were the same. His hair was wild, his face was awestruck. He was red and sweaty and fucking beautiful.

Slowly, he started to smile, and you returned it. Then he laughed, and you laughed back. Soon you were both giggling into your pillows, curled towards each other, linking fingers in the damp sheets.

Joel took a deep breath, and managed to stop giggling long enough to say, “I think you might have killed me, honey. Can’t move my legs.” You giggled and buried your face in the pillow. “No, I’m serious. First you knock me over with the idea of fucking you awake, much less telling me to do it? Jesus, I almost came before I ever got inside of you, trying to figure out how to do it without waking you up. Best fucking idea I’ve ever heard, honey, shit. Holy fucking shit.” He sounded winded, and awestruck. Like he couldn’t believe that just happened. “You were so beautiful, baby, taking it so well, even in your sleep. Couldn’t tear my eyes away from you.” He sighed, grinning. “Jesus, when can we do it again? I wanna do it again. How’s every goddamn morning sound to you?” You laughed outright. He cleared his throat. “Was it, um. Was it what you wanted?” He looked hopeful, and a tiny bit worried. You didn’t know how he could be, not after you came harder than you ever had in your life. So you told him that.

“Joel. I just came harder than I ever have in my entire life.” You figured he needed to hear it, and his answering grin told you he appreciated it. “I can’t feel my legs, either.” He laughed, and you tracked it across his face. Beautiful. “It was so fucking perfect. I was having the best dream about you, I guess because of what you were doing to me for real, and then suddenly the dream and reality came together and I— fuck.” You closed your eyes against the memory of that moment. “I’ve never felt anything like that.”

“It was fucking beautiful to watch,” he murmured, eyes traveling over your face and chest. “Never seen anything like that, either.”

You smiled. “In my dream you were fucking me from behind, and it just… melted into real life. I felt like I fell back into myself and couldn’t tell up from down in the best fucking way.” You bit your lip. “Every morning, huh?” He winked at you. “I dunno, if you make me come like that every day I might not make it to work.” He laughed, and finally reached for you again. You went easily as he pulled you into his chest, pressing your bodies together. You sighed, sinking into him happily.

“You fit so well in my arms, sweetheart.” He pressed a kiss to your hairline. “Let’s just stay right here, for a while.”

You hummed, agreeing, nuzzling your face into his shoulder. You were both quiet for a moment, just letting the moment wash over you, when you felt him tense.

“Joel?” You questioned lightly, wondering what he was thinking.

“I, um,” he cleared his throat. “Just want to make sure of something, honey. You were, well, the crying. Was that… ok?” He sounded so careful, so worried, it made your heart clench.

“Yes, Joel. That wasn’t just ok.” You tilted your head back to meet his eye so he could see the sincerity on your face. “It was exactly what I wanted. It was perfect.” He relaxed, and his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “Sometimes I cry during sex. Not all the time, but it’s not necessarily a bad thing when it happens. Like just now, it was a really, really good thing.”

“That’s what I thought,” he nodded, “but I wanted to make sure I was reading you right. Would be a pretty upsetting thing to get wrong.”

The two of you nestled back into each other, holding tight, breathing in deep together as you came down from the intensity of the sex you’d just had. It had been beautiful, and rough, and exactly what you wanted, and now you were worn out. In his arms was exactly where you wanted to be.

After a while you started to doze off again, but you didn’t want to sleep the morning away, so you shook yourself back awake. You stretched, idly, and you felt Joel’s gaze on you. You looked up to find him admiring your legs as you stretched them along the bed.

“See something you like, cowboy?”

He smiled. “You know I do, gorgeous.”

“Want to get up, grab some breakfast, maybe?” Joel smiled and nodded, but pulled you in rather than letting you get up.

“Maybe in a few minutes.”

You smiled.

…

Joel drove you to a diner about halfway between your apartment and his house. You’d never been there, but had driven past it many times, and told him so.

“This is a favorite of ours,” he told you as you both climbed out of his truck. “Sarah usually demands it at least once a month. We have family breakfast with Tommy.” You smiled at the thought.

Breakfast was easy, full of easy conversation and light teasing. Joel snuck some of your food and you retaliated by drinking some of his coffee. His feet nudged yours under the table as he grinned at you, and you rested your chin in your hand to watch him watch you across the table. It really drove home for you how much you liked being around Joel. The sex had been mind-blowing, obviously, like always, but you’d also spent weeks circling each other before finally starting to get to know each other over lunches and coffees and now dates. Every moment you spent with him showed you there was something more, here. It was in the way he couldn’t look away from you, the way he listened so carefully, like he always did, as you told him silly stories about the diner in your hometown. The way he remembered tiny details from everything you’d ever told him. You felt yourself falling, just like you’d told Beth.

It was scary, but it was also pretty wonderful.

...

a/n: 😏

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#tlou #chaptered #read #author: burntheedges

201 notes · View notes

aspoonofsugar · 2 years ago

Note

I have to be frank it black sun makes way more sense as the beauty and best played straight ( blacksun got years of teasing mutual attraction and development ( from v1 to blacksun goodbye scene inv6 which had romantic this isnt the end connotations ) with sun going out of his way to help blake like beauty did for the beast and sun had done more for blakes arc then yang ) while bb got nothing for a romantic relationship nothing hinted at them being more then friends till arguably v7 ( the last 2 eps of v6 at best none of the blake and yang moments there were inherently romantic so it reeks of direction change either the change was made after v6 or during the writing of v6 last eps due to bbs popularity )

Hello anon!

I have to be frank, as well... I disagree completely :)

At the same time, though, I think your feelings and reasoning is understandable and valid. I'll tell you more, you are actually right in saying Blake and Sun are another example of Beauty and the Beast :P

I'll explain my reasoning immediately, but before that, let me say I have already talked about Blake's arc, Yang's arc, Black Sun, Bumbleby and ships in RWBY. You find all the asks and metas, if you click on the links. In any case, I'll be taking parts of these posts to answer you.

Now, let's start...

BLAKE'S ARC AND THE BEAUTY AND THE BEAST ALLUSION

Blake's arc and development can be summarized with this quote:

Blake: When you've been at someone's side for so long, after a while they become a part of you. But that's just it, they're only a part of you. Don't forget about the rest.

At the beginning of the series, Blake has been at Adam's side for so long her whole self has become his. This is the essence of their abusive relationship. Blake is initially presented as a shadow, both because she is a Faunus and because she is Adam's shadow. She follows him around, she obeys his orders and has been poisoned by Adam's White Feng propaganda. In order to follow Adam, she has cut all her other positive relationships, like the ones with her parents. This is why the moment she leaves Adam in the Black Trailer, she finds herself alone.

This dependence is made clear also through Blake's Beauty and the Beast allusion. Adam is initially:

Blake's Beast romantically

Blake's Beast when it comes to the Human/Faunus conflict > specifically, he and Blake are both beasts that fight against society for freedom

Blake's cursed Rose who is poisoning her life

In short, Adam is Blake's everything. This is why Blake's growth and salvation does not really lie in her finding Adam's substitude. The point is not that she is in a bad relationship, but then she finds a shiny new love interest and everything is alright. The point is that the relationship with Adam has grown so dangerous and abusive specifically because it has isolated Blake from others. So, Blake's recovery lies in her finding a huge support system made of different Beauties, Beasts and Roses ready to help her.

This starts with her team:

Ruby is Blake's new Rose. She resembles Blake's younger self and makes Blake believe into idealism once again. She is also the one who leads Yang and Blake to meet.

Yang is Blake's new Beauty/Beast when it comes to her romantic subplot. She becomes Blake's partner and ultimate love interest

Weiss is Blake's new Beauty/Beast when it comes to the Funus/Humans subplot. Their parallel journeys mirror the evolving balance of the world and I would not be surprised if by the end they share a moment where they fight side by side in something Faunus related.

In short, all Blake's subplots and sides that are initially focused on Adam get separated and she finds a different relationship for each.

This doesn't stop with her team of course! Throughout the Mistral Arc she finds 2 other Beauties and Beasts that play a key role in her development.

They are:

Ilia: she is the Beast the Beauty redeems and the Beauty who lost herself in the shadows, like Blake is initially.

Sun: he is the Beauty that helps the Beast and at the same time he is the Beast who lets go of the Beauty:

Blake: I have to admit, I think I was kind of getting used to having you around. Sun: I go where I'm needed! And… you don't need me anymore. Blake: Well, when you say it like that, it sounds sad. Sun: Look… despite the drama and the fighting and the numerous attempts on my life, I had a lot of fun! But you're with who you're supposed to be now.

Neptune: I don't know, man. It just feels like you're letting her go. Sun: It was never about that, brainiac.

It is funny to me that you consider Sun and Blake's goodbye as foreshadowing of their romance because it clearly isn't. If anything, the message is the opposite: Sun is giving up on Blake. He has initially followed her out of genuine care and romantic interest. However, by the end of their adventure he realizes Blake is already where she needs to be... aka her team and Yang:

Sun: You think you're being selfless, but you're not. Yeah, that chameleon friend of yours got me pretty good. But I'd do it all again if it meant protecting you. And I can promise Yang would say the same.

Notice how he juxtaposes himself to Yang and Ilia to Adam in this scene... this is not by chance...

This development in itself is rather meaningful in Blake's story. It ties with the deconstruction of toxic masculinty tropes her arc is about. Sun is a friend, who has been there for Blake when she needed him. This doesn't make him entitled to her, though. His selflessly helping her without the final "getting the girl" represents this.

Back to Blake's arc and allusion. A sure way to easily find Blake's numerous beauties and beasts is to use her shadow/light motif. Blake's name means both white and black, which is mirrored in her color scheme. This also means she is both light (beauty) and shadow (beast). This is also why she is linked to the twilight:

You can find this motif with all Blake's Beauty and Beasts. She is the white and black to Adam's red and black. This means they are both shadows (so no complementarity) and that Adam has tainted Blake's white (the light) with red (the blood) (see the White Feng symbol turning from white to red). At the same time, she is the black to Weiss's white and the shadow to Yang's light.

Ilia and Sun's symbolism is instead made clear in Blake'svolume 5 character short, where she keeps moving between day (Sun)

And night (Ilia)

Ilia and Sun are Blake's shadow and light in the Mistral Arc and their help is necessary for her to grow and face an even darker shadow together with an even brighter light:

In short, it is not only about Blake and Adam and Blake and Yang/Sun, but rather it is about Blake and her huge support system that is presented to us through the lens of her fairy tale.

In the post you are referencing, I specifically talk of Blake/Adam as an inversed Beauty and the Beast and as Blake/Yang as a straight version because I was thinking about it structurally.

What is Beauty and the Beast structure in a nutshell? It goes like this.

The Beauty's Father gives her a rose from the Beast's garden. The Beauty leaves the Father to live with the Beast. After a while, Beauty and Beast grow closer, but at one point Beauty asks to leave to visit her Father. The Beast says yes, but gives her a time limit. If Beauty doesn't come back before that the Beast is gonna die. The Beauty overstays at her Father's, but then rushes back to the Beast when she realizes she loves him. She finds the Beast dying, but her love restores his Prince-like form and they live happily ever after.

This structure fits Adam and Yang. Not Sun.

Blake meets Adam through her father's organization. He appears as a beautiful rose, but in reality he is a beast. Blake leaves Ghira to stay with Adam. However, after a while, their relationship becomes abusive and Blake leaves Adam. This hurts him and he grows obsessive and crueller. As a step in her healing process Blake goes back to Ghira until she grows strong enough to face Adam. Obviously not to rejoin and heal him, but to fight him off.

Blake leaves Ghira and loses herself. After a while she finds a precious rose (Ruby) and meets Yang. After they spend time together in the same team, Blake leaves and goes back to Ghira. This hurts Yang deeply. However, differently from Adam, Yang is able to grow and to welcome Blake back once she returns.

Blake never leaves nor hurts Sun, so there is really nothing to forgive here and there is no need for the Beauty and Beast's reconciliation, which is key in Blake's fairy tale. You could argue Sun leaving Blake in volume 6 is the Beauty leaving the Beast. Still, Blake doesn't suffer for this and Sun leaving has really no consequences for her.

Similarly, both Adam and Yang have a rose, which links them to Blake. Sun instead completely lacks the rose symbolism. Another hint he is not the main Beauty/Beast to Blake's story, even if he is clearly important.

Now, I don't care if you think Blake's story is well written or not. What is important is that you realize this is what we canonically have in-story. This is clearly the reading the authors want us to go at. Now, let's see if you are right about Bumbleby being shoved into the story in volume 7.

BUMBLEBY'S FORESHADOWING

Black the beast descends from shadows. Yellow beauty burns gold.

This is the very first time Blake and Yang are mentioned and they are literally called Beauty and Beast. Now, I know there is a huge discourse about this line and some people say it is bullshit. Some others instead argue that Blake and Yang were meant as a platonic version of Beauty and the Beast, while Sun and Blake were meant to be romantic.

Even dismissing Red Like Roses, though, volume 2 and 3 still clealry code Blake and Yang romantically.

Yang and not Sun is the one who convinces Blake to go to the party:

Yang: And if you feel like coming out tomorrow, I'll save you a dance.

So, symbolically she is the one who brings Blake to the dance:

Sun: Sooo, does this mean we're going… together? Blake: Technically, though my first dance is spoken for.

Notice that Blake and Yang wear complementary outfits (black and white, yin and yang), while Black Sun have both black clothes.

Not only that, though:

Blake: I had someone very dear to me change. It wasn't in an instant, it was gradual - little choices that began to pile up. He told me not to worry. At first they were accidents, then it was self-defense. Before long, even I began to think he was right. This is all just… very familiar. But you're not him. And you've never done anything like this before. So… I want to trust you. I will trust you. But first, I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me that he attacked you. I need you to promise me that you regret having to do what you did.

Adam: And as I set out upon this world and deliver the justice mankind so greatly deserves, I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love. Yang: Blake! Where are you!? Adam: Starting with her.

Yang is directly compared to Adam aka Blake's previous partner and lover and she is Adam's target the moment he is trying to hurt Blake. Like, crazy ex-boyfriend targets new love interest is a recurring trope. Not to count Yang losing her arm is juxtaposed to Pyrrha screaming Jaune's name while he is being attacked by Cinder. Arkos is clearly romantic and the 2 scenes happening frame beside frame is a way to equate the 2 relationships.

Just to be clear, Yang losing her arm to Adam is something decided since the very beginning:

Scathing eyes ask that we be symmetrical, one sided and easily processed. Yet every misshapen spark's unseen beauty is greater than its would be judgement.

The Yellow Trailer's quote foreshadows this event and it was confirmed by Yang's voice actress. If Yang losing her arm to Adam is something planned early on, I don't see why Yang and Blake fighting Adam together shouldn't be. It is a very rational development that lets 2 of the main girls overcome their respective trauma.

Before we explore Bumbleby's fight against Adam, though, let's focus for a moment on some songs. Bumblb and All That Matters were released respectively with volume 4 and with volume 5 and they are both Bumbleby's songs. You could argue Bumblebee is not "canon" because it was a later addition. Still, All That Matters is canonically a song about Yang's feelings over Blake leaving and it is clearly romantic. It also plays in key moments like Blake and Yang meeting again and the group hearing about Blake and Yang's fight against Adam. Both times, the one who starts the theme song is Ruby:

Blake: Well… I'm not going anywhere. Ruby: That's all that matters. That we're all here together. Right? Yang: Yeah.

Blake: I'm so sorry… Yang: Don't be. This isn't on you. Blake: But-- Ruby: You're safe, that's all that matters

Again, very clear symbolism, Ruby is the rose that brings the Beauty and the Beast together.

Now, let's explore Bumbleby's fight against Adam. Throughout the fight Yang and Blake's bond is clearly coded as romantic. There is literally no ambiguity here. For starters, Adam is 1000% jealous of Yang and Blake. This is an actual line he spits:

Adam: What does she (Blake) even see in you (Yang)?!!

The implication is that Blake is now in love with Yang and Adam is jealous and doesn't understand why her ex-girlfriend would choose Yang over him. There is no other interpretation possible. Sure, you may argue that in real life a jealous bitch thinking 2 people love each other is no proof this is actually the case (in many cases they may very well be wrong). However, this is no real life, but a story, which means lines like this and in such a context are as clear as day... they are framing Yang as Blake's love interest.

Thematically, the whole fight frames Blake and Yang's relationship in juxtaposition with Adam and Blake. Adam was abusive and a liar, who kept hiding things from Blake. Yang instead wears her heart on her sleeve and has had no hesitation to race to Blake's side, when she was in danger. Similarly, both Adam and Yang were left by Blake and were both hurt by this. However, Adam has kept obsessing over Blake and decided to stalk her and to hurt her. He is given the chance to let go, but doesn't. Yang instead works to empathize with Blake's decision and tries to understand her point of view. When Blake comes back, Yang forgives her and is ready to stand beside her once more.

This is ultimately why Yang wins her 1v1 against Adam. Adam is blinded by jealousy and rage to the point he loses sight of Blake. For all his obsession over her, he is quick to forget her existence during the fight. Yang instead never loses sight of Blake and fights to block Adam's vision of her, waits the right moment and then uses Adam's sword to bait him to where Blake is. In this way she and Blake can finish the fight. This is the thematic meaning of the fight. Yang sees Blake for who she is, while Adam only sees himself.

The scene itself is full of symbolism related to both Beauty and the Beast and Goldilocks aka Blake and Yang's fairy tale.

On the one hand Blake spells out the just right:

Blake: She's not protecting me, Adam. And I'm not protecting her. We're protecting each other.

In other words, Blake herself is Yang's just right.

On the other hand Yang and Blake allude to the Beauty and the Beast together thanks to the song Nevermore. Nevermore alludes to Evermore, which is a song in the 2017 remake of The Beauty and the Beast. By the way, the remake came out in March 2017, while volume 6 came out in October 2018... so they were rather close by.

Speaking of symbolism, there is more actually... The episode where Yang and Blake defeat Adam is called Seeing Red, which is apparently the title of an episode of Buffy The Vampire Slayer where 2 queer characters die (can you confirm @hamliet?). RWBY plays with this and makes its episode and inversion with Blake and Yang killing Adam. Finally, there is the very unsubtle motorcycle symbolism...

Bumblebee smashes Adam in the face and then sails toward new adventures in the river... again... the meaning is really not subtle...it means that Bumbleby as a ship is sailing.

In short, by volume 6 we have... 1 romantically coded dance, Bumbleby being compared to Arkos, Yang being compared to an ex love interest, said ex love interest targeting Yang twice out of jealousy, 3 love songs, heavy handed Beauty and the Beast and Goldilocks symbolism and other generic unsubtle symbolism...

Other than this, we have 2 perfectly structured paralell arcs that are so since the Black and the Yellow Trailers. Each girl has to go through opposite development and grow on her own with the help of family and friends. Only in this way they are able to meet each other again and to accept each other to defeat a common enemy together...

As you can see, there is actually a lot and to tell you the truth...Blake and Yang's journey throughout volume 4 - 5 - 6 is where their bond is really developed and tested. They are set up as each other's objective throughout the Mistral arc, they go through a conflict and solve it. This is how you make a bond important narratively, not through jokes or 2 characters being cute together, but through conflict. I am saying this because it is true that volumes 7 and 8 have gone out of their way with the Bumbleby cute stuff, so that everyone has realized they are meant to end up together. However, these volumes have really not been as important as the Mistral arc for their relationship. They are shown to be closer as a result of them defeating Adam. However, they have not really received that much focus compared to Mistral and that is alright... it is not every character must receive the same amount of focus in each arc.

In short, the meat of Bumbleby is Mistral and not Atlas. As a result, the idea this relationship has been invented in Atlas is false for the simple reason all its development is before they even reach the Kingdom.

BLACK SUN WAS TOTALLY THERE... AND THIS WAS A MISTAKE

Ok, now let's talk about Black Sun. I 100% agree with you that the ship was there and it was being built on romantically... which is honestly the whole problem.

As shown above, it is not that Black Sun was romantic and Bumbleby was not. They were both romantically - coded. As for why, there can be 3 explanations:

They were not sure they could make Bumbleby canon, so they were ready to use Sun as a spare (I honestly think this is partly true).

They wanted to have Sun be Blake's unrequired love interest, so that he can add a piece to the deconstruction of toxic masculinity (what they end up doing)

They wanted to show Black Sun as a Teen Immature love and Bumbleby as end game (probably a thing they wanted to accomplish, but were too ambitious with)

This last one may have very well been the idea here. After all, the Beacon Arc focuses on such immature loves and Black Sun happens at the exact same time Weiss develops her crush on Neptune. Now, I think we can all agree Weiss isn't ending up with Neptune... However, Black Sun has way more focus and is way more important than Neptune and Weiss's thing. Let's briefly summarize Black Sun teasing.

Sun starts flirting with Blake the moment he sees her, Blake goes to the dance with him and blushes at him during the Vytal Festival while a love song is playing:

After this, we have Blake and Sun’s interactions in volume 4 and 5. There it is made clear as day Sun has still feelings for Blake. Moreover, their interactions are full of jokes/tropes usually found in slap-stick comedies...(btw this is also why the discourse about Blake “being abusive” for slapping Sun or Sun “being creepy” for stalking Blake is missing the context imo). Like, meeting the parents with the mother teasing the relationship and the father disliking the partner is a romantic trope. There is also Blake and Sun's whole conversation about words where Blake tells Sun about what her loved ones represent to her. She talks of Sun as "earnest", but adds she has yet to properly decide, which obviously led many shippers to read it as foreshadowing.

At the same time... this is really all tbh... there is a lot of teasing and Sun is super important for Blake's arc because he fits the role of the Helper... However, he is not set up as some kind of objective, Blake does not really show any kind of romantic interest for him in volume 4 and 5 and she even talks of her teammates as the people she loves the most in the world:

Blake: Shut up! Do you think I like being alone? Every day… every day I think about them! Ruby, Weiss, Yang… they were my friends! I loved them like I never thought I could love anybody. And I hope they hate me for leaving.

Finally, Sun is never compared to Adam and the antagonist he helps Blake defeat is rather Ilia, who is another romantic interest, but of the unrequired love type.

Speaking of unrequired love... it is true Black Sun has 2 love songs, (Not Fall in Love with You and Like Morning Follows Night) but the theme for both is unrequired love:

See, you'll never understand What I feel, what I see (…) Trying to search for this happiness Lost in the lights But it seems that it's all Just out of my sight Just out of my reach, Can't seem to get it right Like I'm cursed with this turbulence (…) Yet I still believe in you Every breath, every word Every smile, every glance Could be another chance That you'll finally see The love that is me

Girl of my dreams you would make my life complete But you're a distant dream to me Then I know and I know that you're-- Out of my league How could it ever be? What am I supposed to do- Just sit here and not fall in love with you?

The implication is that Sun likes Blake and that he is running after her, hoping she will notice him. This seems to confirm the unrequired love reading...

However, the point is that all in all... Black Sun is a mess. It is romantically coded, but thematically, structurally and symbolically it is not as deep as Bumbleby. Moreover, it can't really decide if it wants to be a teen first love or an unrequired love and it is ultimately never addressed. Sun simply gives up on Blake after having helped her and leaves.

As you can see, I am really not happy with this resolution myself and even if it is true Sun is definately coming back in Vacuo... I am also not that sure he is gonna be that important or that his relationship with Blake has to or needs to find a closure by this point. After all, it is clear Bumbleby is endgame, so a love triangle would really add nothing to it.

There is also another problem with Sun himself, that ultimately makes him a less interesting romantic interest for Blake than Yang... so far he lacks an arc of his own... you insist he has been more important than Yang in Blake's arc because he has helped her a ton, right? However, what about Sun's own arc?

A romantic relationship should drive both partners to grow, so that they can end up together despite conflict. The conflict can be either external or internal. Bumbleby has both kinds of conflicts. On the one hand Blake and Yang trigger each other. On the other hand Adam gets in the way of their bond. This means they both have to grow as people (internal) and defeat Adam (external).

Black Sun lacks this on Sun's side... sure you may say the conflict arises on Blake's side... she is scared to open up to people and there is the whole White Feng Sun must help Blake to fight... However, this makes for a very one-sided relationship with one character way more complex and rounded than the other... All in all, it is a kind of dynamic that has its limits for the story.

Mind you, the writers actually wanna us to think that Sun has changed thanks to Blake. In Before the Dawn we have this:

Sun didn’t rise to Scarlet’s bait, which was pretty strange. But it also wasn’t his style to devote himself to a cause like this. He usually went wherever his whims took him, whether that was across the sea to help a friend or to get noodles at three in the morning. To pledge to fight a big cause with no clear solution or end in sight? That really didn’t sound like Sun. Maybe his time with Blake in Menagerie had changed him.

However, this is an example of telling and not showing... really in the series this never comes up nor it is ever explored. It does not contradict the story. It actually makes sense when considering what little we know of Sun and if we reread some interactions with Blake using this interpretative key. However, it is surely not one of the main topic explored in Blake and Sun’s relationship, while I think it could have been great if it were. Ironically, though, I think Blake and Sun's romantic teasing actually goes in the way of said explorations.

Volumes 4 and 5 are full of slap stick comedy jokes and romantic teasing and so anchored on Blake's own arc with Ilia and the White Feng, that Sun has very little time to have an arc of his own... Basically, all the space that could have been used to explore him is given to Blake and her own struggles... Sun is adorable and the best person ever to have around... but this is actually it... he does not change, nor is he particularly challenged by the events around him.

In the end, his struggles with his teammates and his flaws have been explored in the novel rather than in the series itself. Sure, he might have an arc in Vacuo, but given there are tons of characters that need development and a part of his problems have been dealt with in Vacuo, I am not sure he is gonna be super focused on... we'll see. One thing is for sure... if he were meant to be Blake's final partner these sides of him should have been focused on while they were together... however, they were not because ultimately his bond and dynamic with Blake is never symmetrical... he fits the role of the helper in her arc and that is more or less it...

CONCLUSION

I actually think you have all rights to be annoyed by how Black Sun has been solved, but I honestly think you have got the wrong target... the problem isn't Bumbleby whose whole story is clearly set up and rather well structured, but Black Sun itself, which could not really decide what it wanted to be... Hopefully, I am wrong and Sun and Blake's screentime in Vacuo will give us a resolution and make some choices clear, but as for now, I doubt it.

Finally... I am kind of meh to the whole idea... "THERE WAS DIRECTOR CHANGE DUE TO BB POPULARITY!"... I mean... RWBY has had so far no problem killing off Pyrrha and Penny... 2 very popular characters in popular ships... if they were going for... "Let's give the people the ships they want!"... I can assure you they would not have killed off those 2.

And that is all... thank you for passing by and have a nice day!

#rwby #asksfullofsugar #bumbleby #black sun #anonymous

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lordabovehelpme · 3 years ago

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I honestly don’t think Frank would be super dominant in bed like a lot of people write him to be. Not that I dont love it! But just think, everything else in his life is rough, blood, sweat and pain, but in bed with intimacy he would be gentle, and praise his lover left and right

Okay anon- we are on the same brain wave! 🧠

I totally agree with you! I see a ton of people writing him all gruff and dangerous, and while he is (and I have a hoot reading those) I also feel like it’s something he wouldn’t be around his lover.

Here’s my thoughts...

If you don’t know him that well, like he hasn’t let you in yet or you’re just a quick fuck- that’s all you are. Then he’s all gruff and pushy and dominant. Because he doesn’t necessarily care about what you think or to be honest, care at all. So I totally understand writing him like that for those situations.

However.

Once you wiggle your way into his heart, he gets protective and boy does he care. He’d tear the world apart if something even barely harmed you, including himself. So there’s that fierce affection for you that makes him fall to his knees, that brings out his smiles, that threatens to make his heart burst.

Like you said, his life is full of death and blood and pain. And there’s no way in hell he’s bringing that to you. He’s already amazed you’ve stuck with him for this long, afraid that his sins and actions will taint your brilliance.

In the bedroom, (or elsewhere- I don’t judge) I can totally see him spending extra time making sure you’re ready for him.

He holds you from behind, putting your legs over his thighs so you’re spread for him. He rubs his hands over your body, touching you everywhere but where you want. And not until you’re nearly begging him, he’ll start to rub circles on your clit.

You’re all breathless and leaning back against his shoulder, eyes half opened and your own hands gripping at his forearm.

He fingers you, eats you out, making sure you’ve cum at least once before he even gets his cock out.

I can see this going two ways, the first being classic missionary where he can see your face, making sure that you’re not showing any signs of discomfort while he slides into you. The second being him having you on top, letting you work down on him at your own pace.

And he’s always asking if you’re okay, if it feels good, if you need to stop, if it’s too much. Somehow it makes you feel even more sensitive, maybe it’s because he’s pouring as much love as he can into your skin.

Afterwards, he’s all cuddles and kisses. Like melted goo, puddy in your hands. But not before he slides a warm washcloth between your thighs, telling you how amazing you are, how pretty you are, how perfect you are. Kisses pressed against your flesh as he lets his heart run wild.

It’s never about him, and even when you try and make it, it’s because he wants to give you eveything and please you.

So yeah- thank you for sharing!

I’m actually in the middle of writing a softer intimate scene with frank right now. So keep your eyes out! Hehe

#sweet anon #frank castle x reader #frank castle

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maxwell-grant · 3 years ago

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Having asked your thoughts on designing Frankenstein's daemon, might I now ask your thoughts on bringing Count Dracula from the written word into illustration? (I'm definitely in favour of the 'Hairy Old Mountain Man of Horror pretending he's people' look from the original novel; one of the small tests too many Draculas fail to pass is an absolutely tragic lack of the Evil Beard and/or Wicked Moustache explicitly described by Mr Stoker).

Unlike with Frankenstein, where I think the design needs to be painstakingly thought out in order to achieve the best balance of the creature's traits for horror and tragedy alike, I think with Dracula you can actually just take an approach of "whatever works". Because as I mentioned before, I think much of the appeal and longevity of Dracula is how the character's both a layered villain as well as a shapeshifting narrative force that can be tailored to whatever you want to do with. Granted, there are bad or dissappointing Dracula designs, of course there are, but in regards to the leeway you get for reinterpretation, you get a lot more of it with Dracula than with other literary icons.

Like with Frankenstein, I'm gonna bring up how I'd tackle a less grim, more comedy-centric Dracula first, one that's less a force of horror and more of a charismatic villain, and I think to that end I definitely agree that people are sleeping a lot on the hairy old man barely-passing-off-as-humanoid of the original story. Despite very much loving these performers, I'm actually not a fan of takes that mold Dracula too closely to people who've portrayed him, like Bela Lugosi and Christopher Lee, partially because I think it's a waste of an opportunity to create your own Dracula design. Since I can't draw (yet), I'll do what I usually do and make a board of images to try and convey some of my thoughts on one way I'd design Dracula.

(Pictured: Kiwi's design for Dracula, Hotel Transylvania concept art, Nandor, Castlevania Dracula, Charles Dance in Dracula Untold, Vladislav, a Transylvanian rug)

I used the images in my other Dracula post and I’ll post it here again because I absolutely adore @kiwibyrd's designs for Dracula and it's main heroes, in particular I love the way it strikes a good balance at making sure Dracula looks distinctly separate from the humans, but not too much that he couldn't conceivably operate in society as just a harmless old man. I also adore the mustache and bushy eyebrows and pointy ears and I think these three are wonderful features to keep on any Dracula design. I'm also very partial to the Hotel Transylvania concept art, even if it makes me incredibly depressed to look at all the great designs they had for Dracula that they threw in the trash because they somehow decided making him look like Adam Sandler was the idea to go with.

I deeply adore What We Do In The Shadows, both the movie and the show, and Jemaine Clement's Vladislav is one of my favorite (maybe even my actual favorite) on-screen Draculas. But I also enjoy Nandor just as much, and I think it's really great that as a character he's completely different from Vlad while also being ostensibly a take on Dracula, and in particular I bring up his Jersey look because "Dracula in common clothing" is a criminally underrated concept for a joke.

As a character, I'm very partial to comedy takes on Dracula that play him up as a decadent aristocratic supervillain, the kind that can get away with talking in third person. I also have this idea for a version of Dracula who dresses ostentatiously in finely-broidered Romanian or Transylvanian patterns, maybe even wearing a rug as a cape, claiming that he's carrying the legacy of his people on his back. And of course he's lying, he's not Vlad Tepes and he's not even Romanian, he is just a parasite pretending to have a history to be proud of, but good luck getting him to admit that. And finally, I'd like this version to be played by Charles Dance, and I consider it a tremendous crime against humanity that he has yet to play Dracula proper even despite being in a film with the character's name on the title.

So that's kinda how I would design a take on Dracula for something more comedic or more based around him as this guest character and personality on-set. Now, if we're talking a more serious version, I think the possibilities increase, and I won't be getting into all of them because I may prefer to keep them to myself, but I'll elaborate a few ideas.

For example, the edition of Dracula I personally own comes with these really scratchy, really creepy B&W illustrations related to the story, that I can't find scanned online so I'm uploading them here so you can look at. They don't necessarily depict the scenes but rather some of the story's moments, like Van Helsing staking Lucy, Renfield in a straightjacket, Dracula as a coachman, and they are more focused on conveying the horror of the concepts at play.

Dracula never looks the same way in any of the illustrations, in fact you kinda have to piece him out of them by trying to find teeth or capes or eyes or bat-features to see where he's hiding this time. In the first, it's the half-man half-bat, in the 2nd, he's the shrieking bat silhouette next to Renfield, and in the latter, he's the gaping jaws and eerily humanoid eyes in the wolf. The effect to me almost feels like if you were to look at a bunch of tv static and then see a humanoid shape form for a split second before everything went back to normal, something like you'd get from Slender Man or other modern creepypastas, and I’ve argued before that Dracula’s form of horror is a very modern one.

In terms of illustrations of Dracula that keep up the original traits while still pulling off horror, I definitely have to hand it to the one at the left of the image above, drawn by regourso on Deviantart (account deleted at present). Going back to Castlevania’s many takes on Dracula, two in particular that stick out to me would be Castlevania: Judgment’s armored dress Dracula, who’s got this great twisted heart/rose motif going on in his outfit, and Dracula’s final form in SOTN where he just sits in his throne and his cape twists into all these monsters, particularly how it’s depicted by witnesstheabsurd’s depiction.

I’m not particularly a fan of how Dracula’s “final form” in these games is usually just some big demon, and part of what I like about his final form in SOTN instead is that, while it’s not a particularly challenging final boss, I do find it interesting the idea of us never actually getting to see what Dracula’s true final form looks like, only an ever-shifting pitch-black torrent of teeth and claws and bloody veins pouring out because that’s ultimately what Dracula is and brings to the world.

On the flip-side of the rotten old monster, we have the charming seductor Dracula, and while I’m really not a fan of how various adaptations have convinced people that “the point” of Dracula is that he’s a seductive force and an allegory for Victorian xenophobia and I’m reeeally even less of a fan of adaptations that make Dracula some misunderstood tragic hero (and I think I’ve made rather violently clear my feelings on interpretations that play up a romance between him and Mina), that the seductive force part exists is impossible to deny, so conversely, while on one hand we can have Dracula as the gargantuan whirlwind of predatory violence, we can also go for Dracula as the tantalizing lover.

I’ve seen a lot of opinions proclaiming Frank Langella as the best Dracula because he was the best at actually being seductive while still playing Dracula, although I haven’t yet seen his performances. If I had to point at one picture I look at and do buy for a second the idea of Dracula as a romantic character, it would be that particular still of Raul Julia in the left of the above image. And it’s strange for me to think of Raul Julia as attractive because I mainly associate him with his brilliant comedy performance of M.Bison (I know it’s far from the highlight of his career but, look, I grew up with Street Fighter, I can’t help it) but those eyes are definitely looking pretty convincing to me, if nothing else.

And I’ve included this still of Sebastian Stan in the right because, during a conversation between me, @krinsbez and @jcogginsa about who could be a good fit for Dracula, jcog suggested Sebastian Stan, partially because he’s Romanian, and I’ve learned recently that Stan was actually interested in playing the character in Blumhouse’s upcoming remake. And you’d think I’d hate this idea considering how much I don’t care for tragic anti-hero Draculas, but who says that’s what he’d have to play?

Do you have any idea how much actors, who are traditionally known for heroic or supporting roles, usually LOVE it when you give them a chance to cut loose as the main villain?

I’d want Sebastian Stan to put all of his charm, all of his talent, all of his good looks and etc, into playing the absolute most vicious, bloodthirsty and irredeemable Dracula put on screen. Someone who is exceedingly, eerily good at being a lovable protagonist, who’s all smiles and charming eyes and politeness mannerisms and maybe even a funny accent, and then it isn't as funny when he's flying through your window intent on kidnapping babies to feed to his brides, except he may take a moment or two to do so because he's feeling pretty hungry himself right now.

Now, admittedly this is kind of a lot to juggle in regards to a single character, which is why my answer for questions like these inevitably has to be “depends on what I’m going for”. That being said, if I was going to try and cast someone who I think could both look the part of Dracula, as well as respectively, play “cartoon aristocrat” Dracula, “mercurial embodiment of evil” Dracula, as well as realistically be an attractive, even seductive performer who can charm viewers even as the character descends into horrible villainy, and juggle these performances even?

I think I’d have to go with Mads Mikkelsen. Not specifically because of Hannibal (I actually haven’t watched it yet), although it’s definitely a factor, the thing that actually made me pick him specifically is, other than his looks, his voice, his reputation for playing sinister characters, the fact that he loves the role and wants to play it, or how many people are deeply in love with this man, or that people already joke that he looks like a vampire, was watching him in Another Round, and specifically that glorious final scene where he’s just dancing to his heart’s content and just, moving with such spring in his step and such joyful vitality even though he’s past his mid-fifties, and that was the moment where, in regards to how much you all love this man, I went

And now I am going to add “casting Mads Mikkelsen as a dancing Dracula” to The List of Reasons Why I Became a Filmmaker.

#replies tag #dracula #horror tag #bram stoker #charles dance #sebastian stan #mads mikkelsen #castlevania #raul julia #wwdits #what we do in the shadows #vladislav #nandor

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bakugosbratx · 4 years ago

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omg could you do a dark villain Shoto x fem reader smut?

NSFW 18+ The Pawn— AU Villian! Shoto Todoroki x Fem! Reader

Warning: 18+ content. Unprotected sexual intercourse, alternate universe, toxic relationship, stolkholm syndrome, fluff, angst, gaslighting, manipulation, kidnapping, murder of family, punishment, bdsm, power play, yandere tendencies, etc.

Words: 2,410

Check out my other works here

A/N: Thank you so much for your request! I am so sorry it took me forever to do it. But I hope it meets what you’re looking for. This is my first time writing for Shoto so I apologize in advance.

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @quietlegends @idfkwtfgof

“Any last words?” Shoto questions with a demeaning scowl of disgust, his index finger becoming restless on the pistol’s trigger. The barrel of the gun is resting on the man’s temple while he pleads for mercy.

“I’ll have your money by next week, I swear!” The man cried.

“You said that last time. To be quite frank, I’m not really fond of your lying, Y/L/N.” Shoto admits, cocking the gun so it can fire. The terrified man’s eyes grew wide as tears stream down his face.

“Shoto,” his breath hitches, “p-please. I have a family to take care of. A wife and two children. Please.”

Horrific muffled screams filled the kitchen where your family reside as the gunshot went off. Blood leaked from your father’s bullet wound onto the floor beneath him. You all were forced to watch, tied up and helpless. Shoto even had his crew gag you so your words would not disturb his business meeting. He hates interruptions.

“Disgusting.” Shoto complains, referencing to some of the blood covering his face. Igniting his left side, he sets your father’s corpse on fire. The smell of burning flesh filled your snot filled nostrils as more whimpers escaped your cloth covered lips. This caught Shoto’s attention.

“You,” he calls out as he makes his way towards your tied up body. He picks you up with ease, throwing you over his muscular shoulder. “Are coming with me.”

Your muffled remarks were no use as well as your kicks. You are terrified and not sure why Shoto, Japan’s notorious killer, is doing in your household right now, but you know it’s not good.

“Sir,” one of the men stopped you two as Shoto is making his way towards the exit. He pauses his motion, waiting for the man’s question. “What do you want us to do with the other two? Heroes will be here any moment.”

Shoto pondered the man’s words for a moment. You are silently pleading that he will just let them go, but that was not even a thought in his mind. “Leave them be.”

“But sir—“

“The house will be burnt to ash in any given moment,” he activates his left side for emphasis, “if you want to stay alive, I suggest you gather up the others and get a move on.”

The man nodded and Shoto begins walking out of the house. You struggle in his grasp, but Shoto remains undisturbed by your antics. Throwing you into the back of a van, he slams the double doors. Now all you are left with is your thoughts.

This doesn’t seem real. It truly can’t be. Your family is being massacred and there is not a thing you can do about it. You can even hear their muzzled screams as your house goes up in flames. Still, you are useless as the van starts and drives far away from the crime scene.

Shoto Todoroki is Japan’s worse nightmare. Numerous accounts of murder, abuse of power, kidnapping, anything terrible had Shoto’s name on it. No one knows much about the villain’s personal life except for his heroic father with a bad temper. Some say it is his fault for the way his son turned out and Shoto would agree, but Shoto’s crimes will not be taken from him. No, they are all his doing and he is proud of it.

“Y/N,” Shoto called, making you snap out of your thoughts. You turn to meet the man that now claims you as his. “Are you alright, love? You hardly touched your food.”

“Oh, I’m fine.” You mumbled, giving a soft smile. Bringing the ramen noodle soup to your lips, you forced yourself to eat the food. Your stomach is in shambles as the thoughts from that night came back. There are still many unanswered questions and unknown puzzle pieces, but that is a life you need to forget about. You are Shoto’s now. You have no choice but to be his.

Shoto studied your features. If there is one thing Shoto is not is dumb. He is observant. Just one wrong look and you are in deep trouble. Considering you have been living with Shoto for over a year now, you have grown accustomed to his ways. You have learned to appease him in anyway to make you happy. Especially if it is going to keep you alive.

“You know I don’t appreciate when you lie to me.” Shoto nonchalantly reminds you, noticing how quickly you swallow when the words flow out off his tongue.

“I-I’m not lying, Shoto. Honestly.” You stammered, hoping he would not notice the fear trickling in your eyes. He did, though. Shoto noticed everything about you. One of the many things you despised about him.

The rest of super was ate in silence. As you have learned, this is never a good sign. When Shoto is quiet, he’s plotting. Usually, it’s your punishment. You can see it in his eyes and the subtle touches he does to you. All to make you feel uneasy. Just like he can read you, you are learning to read him just the same.

Once dinner was over, he gathered the dirty dinning wear and washed them. You remained in your chair until you are granted permission to stand up. Your heart is racing with anticipation. What is Shoto plotting? Especially for something as simple as lying.

“Y/N,” Shoto paused to make sure your attention was his. The hairs on the back of your neck are standing straight along with your body stiffening. You hear him walking towards you, his one cold hand and other warm one rest on your shoulders. “Go upstairs to our shared bedroom.”

“Y-Yes, Shoto.” You mumbled, scurrying up the steps like the good behave girl he taught you to be. If only your filthy little mouth could stop lying.

Shoto is quick to follow after your trembling body. His presence is swallowing you whole as he march up the stairs behind you. Your clammy palm turns the golden doorknob into the master bedroom. You immediately turn around, groping your butt in fear for what may happen to it.

Shoto shuts the door behind him, leaning against it with his arms folded. His face held its usual unamused look as he glares at you.

“I’m giving you one last chance to be honest with me, Y/N.”

“I-I have been honest a-all along, Shoto.” You argued. Shoto’s glare intensified.

“You were thinking about your family again, weren’t you?”

“What? No, I-“

“You’re just like your father.” Shoto scornfully chuckled, strolling towards you. His right hand folded around your neck, giving it a nice squeeze as he whispered in your ear, “and you know how much I truly despise your father.”

His hot breath seemed to linger on the shell of your ear. Your eyes harden as they meet his. His icy hand seemed to make this choking experience even worse. You would get frostbite if it gets any colder, but something in you snapped. You have not fought back in months. You became the submissive girl Shoto desperately wanted you to be yet you are still in the same position as many times before.

“You’re one to talk.” You choked out. The hold on your neck became stronger, circulation being lost to your organs. You are pushed onto the bed, Shoto’s muscular form on top of you.

“Don’t you ever compare me to that monster again, understand me?” Shoto growls as he watch you struggle beneath him. You started to turn pale as your body loses its natural color from lack of air flow. His hatred from his father and yours is taking over as you slowly start to become unconscious. He finally lets go.

You cough, grasping for air. It felt like there was not enough in there to supply your deprived body. Especially with Shoto’s suffocating presence on top of you.

“You have some real nerve talking to me like that, Y/N. When will you learn that your family is the true bad guys in the situation, not me. They screwed me over and I came for what they owed me. You’re just a pawn.”

“You’re lying..” You mumbled out in disbelief. Shoto’s devious grin just grew wider at the tears in your eyes.

“I’m not like your father.” Shoto spats, venom dripping from every wretched word. Your heart is aching and this only fuels the fire.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, warm tears streaming down your face. Shoto only chuckled at your mere offense.

“I plan on it.”

Your look of disgust was ignored as Shoto’s lips trailed from your neck to your lips. You forced yourself to kiss back. You always do. You two had sex plenty of times and sadly, you enjoyed it, but when it’s used for punishment or after he has tears down any sheer ounce of self esteem you possessed it is quite difficult to get in the mood.

“Why do you keep me here?” You finally breathe out as your lips disconnect. Shoto furrowed his eyebrows together.

“Because your family is dead.”

“I know that!” You exclaimed. Shoto is very intelligent, but someone who is also literal. He does not always catch onto what you’re actually trying to ask. “I mean, if I’m just some pawn, why keep me here? Why not let me have the same fate as my family?”

Shoto stayed silent. He pondered how he should answer this. He just started touching you outside of the bedroom a couple months ago. It even took him a long time to have sexual intercourse with you. He knows he could have killed you off. He is sure of it. You have been a pain in his ass since he collected you for payment yet you’re still here.

“I don’t know.” Shoto answered, truthfully.

You sigh. You are not sure what answer you were expecting, but knowing where this is leading does not make you feel any better about yourself. You just feel more used.

Silence over fell you two. Shoto is in deep thought as so are you. You are worried that your days are numbered now, but Shoto was not even thinking about that. He is more thinking of himself and how he can’t murder you. He actually likes having you around. He may never say it and his facial features will never show it, but with you by his side, his frozen heart starts to thaw. Just by your simple glimpses and touches.

Part of him hated you for that.

“Shoto,” you whisper, catching his attention. You made yourself look away. You have so many conflicting thoughts. Shoto is all you have now and in all honesty, you have grown not to hate the guy. You love the soft touches and the way he keeps you warm at night. He is so observant of the slightest of things. That’s more than your family has ever given you.

Your right hand cupped his cheek. He seemed slightly tense by the action, but he instantly fell into your touch. Your thumb grazed his cheek.

“I-I,” you meet his gaze, “I enjoy your company.” You admit. Shoto kept silent, but your words meant something to him. You both are not good with this kind of stuff. You were never taught it. This is the closest thing you two will ever get to ‘I love you.’

Your lips connected once again. During the process, each one of your articles of clothing was discarded to the ground below. Shoto kissed down your exposed breast, stomach, and finally stopped at your pussy. He swiped his tongue between your folds sending chills down your spine along with needy moans escaping your parted lips.

“Shoto, please.“ You whined, wanting him to make you soaked already, but you are on Shoto’s terms. He gets to decide everything.

Luckily, he did not make you wait long as tongue swirled on your sensitive clit. Your legs rested on his shoulders as he devoured you. Small groans is all Shoto could do as his tongue explored every inch of your pussy. Not a spot was missed nor would he allow there to be. Your clit was being the most spoiled. Your entrance was then meet shortly after. You did your best to conceal your sweet melodies of pleasure, but Shoto is not allowing you to do so.

“You have a voice for a reason. Use it.” He orders in a low growl amongst your cunt.

“Shoto,” you sob, “I’m about to cum. Please.”

You arched your back as your cunt was about to release. Shoto sped up the pace, helping you meet your climax even sooner. On que, you sing sweet little melodies of moans as you release into the man’s mouth. Every drop was swallowed by him.

Shoto stood up, grabbing your hips to pull you closer to the edge of the bed. “Keep your eyes on me at all times. Understood?”

You nod, eagerly. “Yes, Shoto.”

Shoto aligned his erection with your weeping entrance. Shortly after, your walls are hugging his length as it dives deeper and deeper into you. Each thrust loosened you even more and he kept a steady pace. You gripped the expensive European satin bedsheets as you babbled incoherent words and phrases. You kept your eyes locked on Shoto the whole time just like he ordered.

“Shoto.” You finally moan aloud as his dick is inside of you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” He groans. Your crying cunt was dripping with your slick onto the fabric of the bed and on Shoto’s cock.

“Yes.” You manage to blurt out as you gasp for more. His cock felt amazing no matter how much you wanted to hate him for it. This is one of the ways he shows affection. You learned to accept that.

Shoto’s hands find their way to your bouncing titties. The difference between temperatures sent your body into overdrive. He loved seeing the lewd faces you make as he used his power to pleasure you. Shoto’s dick did not stop thrusting into you through this process either though it is twitching.

Pre-cum leaks into your cunt. Shoto removes his hands from your breast as he picks up the pace. His knees start to buckle beneath him as cum flows from his cock. Every drop is milked from him until he pulls outs.

This is his way of saying ‘I love you.’

©bakugosbratx

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marvelouspeterparker · 4 years ago

Text

all worth it

pairing: tom holland x interviewer!reader

summary: tom is an actor, doing interviews is a part of his job. but there’s just something about you that makes him feel like the stress that comes with press tours and interviews is all worth it.

warnings: none, just fluff

notes: literally got this idea from looking at an onward interview gif (the one where he recites the lines from back to the future, iykyk) also imagine the pandemic never happened in this jfskgh

so tom loves his job, obviously

he gets to be his number one favorite superhero, make people happy, do what he loves, and more

but that doesn’t mean that there are no downsides to his career

there is actually a lot of stress that comes with being in the limelight and that includes people constantly watching your every move, being critiqued, questioned and put on the spot

and the perfect time for all this to occur? during interviews

now some of the time, interviews are nice, sometimes they’re even fun

but unfortunately a lot of the time, the same questions are asked in each and every one, one after the other, for hours on end and it honestly gets very boring and very draining very fast

so to be quite frank, he wasn’t expecting much when he walked into the next room for his last interview of the day

but when you walked in, he couldn’t help but perk up a bit

you were pretty and you seemed very nice as well, greeting everyone, including the crew as you made your way over to tom, jacob and zendaya

some of the interviewers would just walk straight to their seat and start the questions almost immediately, no warmth in their manners––but you, you were different

you shook each of their hands, smiling wide as you said hello

you couldn’t really contain your enthusiasm, you were a big marvel fan, and a fan of each of them, so you couldn’t tame your smile even if you wanted to

your energy was infectious and tom was more than grateful for it

when you reached him, he looked into your eyes deeply and you had to snap out of your daze before you made a fool of yourself

‘hello darling’ he licked his lips as he looked up at you, a gracious smile on his face and you blinked a couple times before responding

‘hi it’s––so nice to meet you, i’m a big fan.’ you turned to look at the others, ‘of all of you, really.’

they all ‘aww’ed and accepted your compliments, thanking you as you took your seat

when you were given the green light to start, you gave a curt nod to the crew behind the cameras and started right away

you were professional and good at your job, making the cast feel welcome and at ease after a long day of work

you told jokes, asked interesting questions that others hadn’t and since you were a marvel fan, you were able to ask specific questions that showed your genuine interest in the comics, the films, the plots and more

tom could feel himself getting more comfortable as the interview went on and the smile never left his face throughout the entire thing

when it ended and they turned the cameras off, you all felt a bit disappointed that you would have to say goodbye so soon, you were all having a good time and genuinely laughing so hard that your cheeks hurt

you thanked them all for their time and jacob was quick to wave you off

‘no thank you––i think we can all agree that we saved the best for last today.’ he looked to his friends and they nodded along

zendaya chimed in ‘for real, this was fun.’

you smiled, honored that you managed to make their day a little better and tom spoke up quietly, making you turn to look at him

‘yeah this, this was really great. thank you y/n.’

you could feel your cheeks heating up but you nodded, smiling as you tried your best to calm your raging heartbeat ‘my pleasure’

tom would have loved to speak with you more afterwards honestly, but unfortunately as soon as he exited the room, he and his friends were being ushered towards the next location for the day, preparing for the long week they still had ahead of them

though you had hoped to see more of tom, you only had one interview with him, so you wouldn’t be seeing him any time soon

or so you thought, anyway

your boss surprised you with a chance to go to the premiere, and interview some of the cast and other actors on the red carpet of course (since you were there for work)

you honestly thought that if tom did see you, he would only give you a small wave, maybe a slight head nod at best since you’d already interviewed him, but to your surprise, when he saw you, he smiled immediately and made his way over to you, swerving away from his entourage (which consisted of his brothers, assistant, and others you didn’t recognize)

‘hi love, how are you?’

his eyes were shining under the bright lights on the carpet and there were hundreds of shouts and conversations going on around you, but he somehow managed to make you focus only on him, from his voice and presence alone

‘good! how are you? you excited? nervous?’

he laughed, tilting his head, ‘both, but you know, i’m really proud of this film and i’m ready for people to see it’

you didn’t have much time to talk since there were plenty of other interviewers, journalists and on top of that he had to take pictures so you wished him good luck and he thanked you genuinely

‘i have to run, but be sure to tell me what you think of the movie afterwards, yeah? i know you’re a marvel fan, wanna see if it lives up to your standards’ he winked and you stuttered for a bit, agreeing as he walked off

you were shocked that he wanted to hear your opinion, but granted there was a camera on you both, which you might have forgotten about while you were talking

but you couldn’t help but think, was that flirting? does he really want to know what i think?

you tried to push the butterflies down and focus on the film as you watched and honestly, it was easy to forget about everything else once you looked at the screen

the film, the plot, tom––everything was so captivating and entertaining, you couldn’t look away even if you tried

it wasn’t until after the film had ended, and you’d stayed for both end credit scenes that you realized you had no way of contacting tom

surely he would have things to do after this, after parties maybe? so you most likely wouldn’t see him outside

and it’s not like he followed you on instagram––he probably wouldn’t even see your dm if you sent one

as you were on your way out, thinking about all this, you felt a hand tap your shoulder and you turned, a smile on your face

but soon realizing it wasn’t who you’d hoped, you tried to not let the disappointment show on your face but as you looked clearly, you realized the man looked familiar

‘hi’ he smiled, ‘i’m tom’s assistant’ you nodded, greeting him a little confused

‘tom’ he started, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, ‘wanted me to give you this’ he handed you the paper and you opened it, feeling your stomach jump when you realized a number was scribbled on it, signed -tom ;)

without even realizing, you stared at the ink on the paper for a few seconds silently before his assistant snapped you out of it

‘he wanted you to know that he’s not a dick and he would have come if he could’

you laughed and looked up at him

‘honestly he felt really bad he couldn’t come himself, trust me.’

you nodded and put the paper in your bag, ‘thank you, i’ll be sure to use this’ you smiled

he smiled too, ‘tom hopes you will’

you had a feeling that tom would be busy that night, and probably hungover the next morning, so you waited a couple of days before contacting him

and during those two days, tom was honestly freaking out inside...and outside

were you not interested? was he too forward? did he do something wrong? did you get the wrong idea of him?

he was even texting harrison, jacob and zendaya about it in their group chat

tom: i’m an idiot aren’t i

zendaya: yeah but we already knew that

tom: 😑

harrison: i’m sure she’ll text you, maybe she’s just busy

jacob: yeah man, you’re a total catch

jacob: and anyway if she doesn’t want you, i’ll have you 😏

tom: thanks babe 😘

zendaya: i’m just gonna go––

tom: but anyway, i don’t think i’ll ever shoot my shot ever again because this is just embarrassing

not even a full minute passed before the he send the next text

tom: nevermind she just texted me

tom almost dropped his phone when he saw the message pop up

maybe: y/n: hi tom! this is y/n :) i’m free to give you my thoughts on the movie when you are

you felt like you were going to be sick when you hit send on the message––you didn’t want to bother him, it’d been several days, what if he changed his mind?

and you––nevermind he responded immediately

tom: hi darling :) i’m glad you used my number

tom: i’m free to talk now actually, we could facetime if that’s easier? only if you want, of course

you paused when you read his text, luckily you had showered and gotten dressed today so you didn’t look a mess but you opened the camera just to check if you looked alright

were you really about to facetime tom holland?

when you finished fixing your hair, smoothing down your eyebrows and licking your lips, you swallowed your nerves and replied

y/n: sure, i’d like that

he took a deep breath and hit the call button, eagerly waiting for it to connect when you answered

when you both came into view, you smiled, greeting each other shyly

‘was a little worried when you didn’t call me that night’ he admitted sheepishly

your brows raised, surprised ‘oh i just––i assumed you would have been busy you know, after parties and all that’ you laughed and he joined you, a small smile on his face

‘darling even if you called me during the party, i would have left just to talk to you––missed hearing your voice honestly’

when you paused to answer a blush coated his cheeks and you couldn’t help but think how cute he looked

‘sorry was that lame?’ he laughed nervously and you shook your head, biting your lip to suppress your smile

‘no––that was, really sweet actually. i––like talking to you too, it’s really nice’

soon you get to talking about the actual movie and you couldn’t stop the praises from flowing

‘honestly it was incredible tom, you were incredible, i loved it’

‘thank you love, i’m really glad you enjoyed it, i was hoping you would.’

and the way that tom smiled bashfully and blushed, even pointing the camera away from his face to hide at one point had you swooning more than ever

after that, you and tom texted here and there, sometimes even facetiming, and he wouldn’t hesitate to compare you to his other interviewers and even tell you about it

‘had an interview today, can’t even compare it to yours, love’

you just rolled your eyes, a smile on your face ‘oh shut up, tom’

you talk often but due to both of your busy schedules, months go by before you see each other again

you run into him at red carpets for other marvel movies, and there’s never a dull moment between the two of you

‘‘there’s my favorite interviewer’ his smile was wide as he walked up to you. ‘you excited for this one?’

you scoffed, fully having a conversation with tom as though you weren’t on camera ‘of course i am, it looks amazing’

‘even better than my movies?’

you raised your hands in surrender, ‘legally, i can’t answer that’

he put a hand to his chest, acting dramatically offended ‘wow well, i guess it’s time for me to go then’

‘at least save me a seat?’ you joked

‘you know i will’ he smirked

by the time ‘the devil all the time’ press came about, you hadn’t told tom that you were assigned to interview him, honestly it was a last minute schedule change

honestly, he’d gotten good at hiding his bad moods from the public, but you’d known him for enough time now to be able to see when he wasn’t at his 100%

which is why you could see him visibly brighten up when he walked into the room and saw you

‘what are you doing here?’ he asked, clearly (pleasantly) surprised as he hugged you

‘uh, my job?’ you joked, ‘you didn’t actually think i only interviewed for the mcu did you?’

he blushed, ‘well i uh––no, obviously not’ he said unconvincingly but you brushed him aside as you got ready for the interview

once you started, tom couldn’t help but smile as he watched you, you were just really good at your job and he enjoyed being with you, even when it was for work

‘so obviously audiences are used to seeing you as peter parker, a rather lighthearted character, despite all the hardships he’s had to face––would you say approaching a character as dark as this was challenging in any way? mentally, emotionally, or just in regards to the fact that the public would be seeing a new, more sinister, villainous side to you?’

‘i mean it was a little daunting, definitely. but i was excited to sort of branch out mentally and challenge myself emotionally for this role––the story was fascinating to me and i was just so proud to be a part of this project, i tried not to think of any downsides.’

he paused and licked his lips, a glint in his eyes. ‘and honestly, we all have a little bit of a dark side, don’t we?’

you paused. of all times to flirt––

‘well hopefully not to the same extent of your character,’ you joked and thankfully the conversation smoothly transitioned elsewhere

now the fans took notice of your bond with tom

they noticed that tom seemed to smile the brightest and laugh the loudest during your interviews, even jumping into other conversations and answers to questions that were directed to his costars

there were dozens of videos, hundreds of edits––

‘tom falling for his interviewer for 9 minutes straight’

and you’d seen them––it was sort of impossible for you to not

you’d been tagged in so many of them, even your friends sent them to you

i mean you weren’t blind, tom was attractive and he did make your heart flutter but you assumed that he didn’t want a relationship since his career was only progressing, skyrocketing either––it would probably be difficult to maintain a solid relationship, or maybe he just wasn’t interested in you so you said nothing

it wasn’t until he had a break from filming that he asked you to hangout, and still you thought nothing of it, until he asked what time he should pick you up

you paused, and he even thought that you froze when really you were just processing what he said

‘like a––date?’ you asked hesitantly

he smiled, scratching the back of his head nervously, ‘yeah? yeah i––like a date.’

you smiled, ‘i would love to tom. but aren’t you worried about pictures spreading online? headlines and all that? i wouldn’t want to add any more stress––’

‘i promise love,’ he interrupted your worried rant, ‘you make it all worth it.’

#idk how i feel about this might delete it we’ll see #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #tom holland hc #tom holland headcanon #tom holland headcannon #tom holland fluff #tom holland x interviewer!reader

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laurasimonsdaughter · 3 years ago

Text

The Counterfeit Marquise

A literary fairy tale published in 1697, presumably by Charles Perrault and François-Timoléon De Choisy (who spent a considerable amount of his life in drag, just like the protagonists of this story).

Translated by Ranjit Bolt, featured in Warner’s Wonder tales: six stories of enchantment (1996).

Cw: gender disphoria.

The Marquis de Banneville had been married barely six months to a beautiful and highly intelligent young heiress when he was killed in battle at Saint-Denis. His widow was profoundly affected. They had still been very much in love and no domestic quarrels had disturbed their happiness. She did not allow herself an excess of grief. With none of the usual lamentations, she withdrew to one of her country houses to weep at her leisure, without constraint or ostentation. But no sooner had she arrived than it was pointed out to her, on the basis of irrefutable evidence, that she was carrying a child. At first she rejoiced at the prospect of seeing a little replica of the man she had loved so much. She was careful to preserve her husband’s precious remains, and took every possible step to keep his memory alive. Her pregnancy was very easy, but as her time drew near she was tormented by a host of anxieties. She pictured a soldier’s gruesome death in its full horror. She imagined the same fate for the child she was expecting and, unable to reconcile herself to such a distressing idea, prayed a thousand times to heaven to send her a daughter who, by virtue of her sex, would be spared so cruel a fate. She did more: she made up her mind that, if nature did not answer her wishes, she would correct her. She took all the necessary precautions and made the midwife promise to announce to the world the birth of a girl, even if it was a boy.

Thanks to these measures the business was effected smoothly. Money settles everything. The marquise was absolute mistress in her château and word soon spread that she had given birth to a girl, though the child was actually a boy. It was taken to the curé who, in good faith, christened it Marianne. The wet nurse was also won over. She brought little Marianne up and subsequently became her governess. She was taught everything a girl of noble birth should know: dancing; music; the harpsichord. She grasped everything with such precocity her mother had no choice but to have her taught languages, history, even modern philosophy. There was no danger of so many subjects becoming confused in a mind where everything was arranged with such remarkable orderliness. And what was extraordinary, not to say delightful, was that so fine a mind should be found in the body of an angel. At twelve her figure was already formed. True, she had been a little constricted from infancy with an iron corset, to widen her hips and lift her bosom. But this had been a complete success and (though I shall not describe her until her first journey to Paris) she was already a very beautiful girl. She lived in blissful ignorance, quite unaware that she was not a girl. She was known in the province as la belle Marianne. All the minor gentry roundabout came to pay court to her, believing she was a rich heiress. She listened to them all and answered their gallantries with great wit and frankness. My heart, she said to her mother one day, isn’t made for provincials. If I receive them kindly it’s because I want to please people.

Be careful, my child, said the marquise: you’re talking like a coquette.

Ah, maman, she answered, let them come. Let them love me as much as they like. Why should you worry as long as I don’t love them?

The marquise was delighted to hear this, and gave her complete licence with these young men who, in any case, never strayed beyond the bounds of decorum. She knew the truth and so feared no consequences. La belle Marianne would study till noon and spend the rest of the day at her toilette.

After devoting the whole morning to my mind, she would say gaily, It’s only right to give the afternoon to my eyes, my mouth, all this little body of mine.

Indeed, she did not begin dressing till four. Her suitors would usually have gathered by then, and would take pleasure in watching her toilette. Her chambermaids would do her hair, but she would always add some new embellishment herself. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders in great curls. The fire in her eyes and the freshness of her complexion were quite dazzling, and all this beauty was animated and enhanced by the thousand charming remarks that poured continually from the prettiest mouth in the world. All the young men around her adored her, nor did she miss any opportunity to increase that adoration. She would herself, with exquisite grace, put pendants in her ears – either of pearls, rubies or diamonds – all of which suited her to perfection. She wore beauty spots, preferably so tiny that one could barely see them with the naked eye and, if her complexion had not been so delicate and fine, could not have seen them at all. When putting them on she made a great show of consulting now one suitor, now another, as to which would suit her best. Her mother was overjoyed and kept congratulating herself on her ingenuity. He is twelve years old, she would say to herself under her breath. Soon I should have had to think about sending him to the Military Academy, and in two years he would have followed his poor father. Whereupon, transported with affection, she would go and kiss her darling daughter, and would let her indulge in all the coquetries that she would have condemned in anyone else’s child.

This is how matters stood when the Marquise de Banneville was obliged to go to Paris to deal with a lawsuit that one of her neighbours had taken out against her. Naturally she took her daughter with her, and soon realised that a pretty young girl can be useful when it comes to making petitions. The first person she went to see was her old friend the Comtesse d’Alettef,11 to ask for her advice and her protection for her daughter. The comtesse was struck by Marianne’s beauty and so enjoyed kissing her that she did so several times. She took on herself the task of chaperoning her, and looked after her when her mother was busy with her suit, promising to keep her amused. Marianne could not have fallen into better hands. The comtesse was born to enjoy life. She had managed to separate herself from an inconvenient husband. Not that he lacked qualities (he loved pleasure as much as she did) but since they could not agree in their choice of pleasures, they had the good sense not to get in one another’s way and each followed their own inclinations. The comtesse, though not young any more, was beautiful. But the desire for lovers had given way to the desire for money, and gambling was now her chief passion. She took Marianne everywhere, and everywhere she was received with delight.

Meanwhile, the Marquise de Banneville slept easily. She was well aware of the comtesse’s somewhat dubious reputation, and would never have trusted her with a real daughter. But quite apart from the fact that Marianne had been brought up with a strong sense of virtue, the marquise wanted a little amusement and so left her to her own devices, merely telling her that she was entering a scene very different from that of the provinces; that she would encounter passionate, devoted lovers at every turn; that she must not believe them too readily; that if she felt herself giving way she was to come and tell her everything; and that in future she would look on her as a friend rather than a daughter, and give her such advice as she herself might take.

Marianne, whom people were starting to call the little marquise, promised her mother that she would disclose all her feelings to her and, relying on past experience, believed herself a match for the gallantry of the French court. This was a bold undertaking thirty years ago. Magnificent dresses were made for her; all the newest fashions tried on her. The comtesse, who presided over all this, saw to it that her hair was dressed by Mlle de Canillac. She had only some child’s earrings and a few jewels; her mother gave her all hers, which were of poor workmanship, and managed at relatively little expense to have two pairs of diamond pendants made for her ears, and five or six crisping pins for her hair. These were all the ornaments she needed. The comtesse would send her carriage for her immediately after dinner and take her to the theatre, the opera, or the gaming houses. She was universally admired. Wives and daughters never tired of caressing her, and the loveliest of them heard her beauty praised without a hint of jealousy. A certain hidden charm, which they felt but did not understand, attracted them to her and forced them to pay homage where homage was due. Everyone succumbed to her spell and her wit, which was even more irresistible than her beauty, won her more certain and lasting conquests. The first thing that captivated them was the dazzling whiteness of her complexion. The bloom in her cheeks, forever appearing and reappearing, never ceased to amaze them. Her eyes were blue and as lively as one could wish; they flashed from beneath two heavy lids that made their glances more tender and languishing. Her face was oval-shaped and her scarlet lips, which protruded slightly, would break – even when she spoke with the utmost seriousness – into a dozen delightful creases, and into a dozen even more delightful when she laughed. This exterior – so charming in itself – was enhanced by all that a good education can add to an excellent nature. There was a radiance, a modesty in the little marquise’s countenance that inspired respect. She had a sense of occasion: she always wore a cap when she went to church, never a beauty spot – avoiding the ostentation cultivated by most women. At Mass, she would say, One prays to God; at balls one dances; and one must do both with total commitment.

She had been leading a most agreeable life for three months when Carnival came round. All the princes and officers had returned from camp, and everywhere entertainments were being held again. Everyone was giving parties and there was a great ball at the Palais Royal. The comtesse, who was too old to show her face on such occasions, decided to go masked and took the little marquise with her. She was dressed as a shepherdess in an extremely simple but becoming costume. Her hair, which hung down to her waist, was tied up in great curls with pink ribbons – no pearls, no diamonds, only a beautiful cap. She had dressed herself, but even so all eyes were fixed on her. That night her beauty was triumphant.

The handsome Prince Sionad was there, dressed as a woman – a rival to the fair sex who, in the opinion of connoisseurs, took first prize for beauty. On arriving at the ball the comtesse decided to go and sit behind the lovely Sionad. Chère princesse, she said as she drew near and introduced the little marquise, here is a young shepherdess you should find worth looking at. Marianne approached respectfully and wanted to kiss the hem of the prince’s dress (or should I say the princess’s) but he lifted her up, embraced her tenderly and cried delightedly: What a lovely girl! What fine features! What a smile! What delicacy! And if I’m not mistaken, she is as clever as she is beautiful.

The little marquise had responded only with a bashful smile when a young prince came up and claimed her for a dance. At first all eyes were fixed on him, owing to his rank. But when people saw her answering his questions without awkwardness or embarrassment; saw what a feel she had for the music; how gracefully she moved; her little jumps in time; her smiles, subtle without being malicious and the fresh glow that vigorous exercise brought to her face, total silence, as at a concert, descended on the hall. The violinists found to their delight that they could hear themselves play, and everyone seemed intent on watching and wondering at her. The dance ended with applause, little of it for the prince, popular though he was.

The acclaim that the little marquise had received at the Palais Royal ball greatly increased the comtesse’s affection and concern for her. She could no longer do without her and she offered her rooms in her house, so that she could enjoy her company at her leisure. But on no account would her mother agree to this. The little marquise was almost fourteen and, if the secret of her birth was to be kept, it was vital that no one should be on intimate terms with her except her governess, who got her up and saw her into bed. She was still quite ignorant of her situation and, though she had many admirers, felt nothing for them. She cared for nothing and no one but herself and her appearance. People spoke to her of nothing else. She drank down this delicious praise in long draughts and thought herself the most beautiful person in the world; the more so since her mirror swore to her every day that the praise was justified.

One day she was at the theatre, in the first tier, when she noticed a beautiful young man in the next box. He wore a scarlet doublet embroidered with gold and silver, but what fascinated her were his dazzling diamond earrings and three or four beauty spots. She watched him intently and found his countenance so sweet and amiable that she could not contain herself, and said to the comtesse: Madame, look at that young man! Isn’t he handsome! Indeed, said the comtesse, but he is too conscious of his looks, and that is not becoming in a man. He might as well dress as a girl.

The performance went on and they said nothing more, but the little marquise often turned her head, no longer able to concentrate on the play, which was The Feign’d Alcibiades. Some days later she was at the theatre again in the third tier. The same young man, who drew such attention to himself with his extraordinary adornments, was in the second tier. He watched the little marquise at his leisure, as fascinated by her as she had been by him on the previous occasion, but less restrained. He kept turning his back on the actors, unable to take his eyes off her and she, for her part, responded in a manner less than consistent with the dictates of modesty. She felt in this exchange of looks something she had never experienced before: a certain joy at once subtle and profound, which passes from the eyes to the heart and constitutes the only real happiness in life. At last the play ended and, while they waited for the afterpiece, the beautiful young man left his box and went to ask the little marquise’s name. The porters, who saw her often, were happy to oblige him; they even told him where she lived. He now saw that she was of noble birth and decided, if possible, to make her acquaintance, even if he went no further. He resolved (love being ingenious) to enter her box by accident.

Ah, madame, he cried, I beg your pardon: I thought this was my box. The Marquise de Banneville loved intrigue and made the most of this one. Monsieur, she said to him with great frankness, we are indeed fortunate in your mistake: a man as handsome as you is welcome anywhere.

She hoped in this way to detain him so that she could look at him at her leisure; examine him and his adornments; please her daughter (whose feelings she had already detected) and, in a word, have some harmless amusement. He hesitated before deciding to remain in the box without taking a seat at the front. They asked him a hundred questions, to which he replied very wittily. His manner and tone of voice had an undeniable charm. The little marquise asked him why he wore pendants in his ears. He replied that he always had: his ears had been pierced when he was a child. As for the rest, they must excuse these little embellishments, normally only suitable for the fair sex, on the grounds of youth.

Everything suits you, monsieur, said the little marquise with a blush. You can wear beauty spots and bracelets as far as we’re concerned. You wouldn’t be the first. These days young men are always doing themselves up like girls. The conversation never flagged. When the afterpiece was over he conducted the ladies to their coach and had his follow it as far as the marquise’s house where, not daring to enter, he sent a page to present his compliments.

During the days that followed they saw him everywhere: in church; in the park; at the opera and the theatre. He was always unassuming, always respectful. He would bow low to the little marquise, not daring to approach or speak to her. He seemed to have but one object, and wasted no time in attaining it. Finally, after three weeks, the Marquise de Banneville’s brother (who was a state councillor) called and suggested that she receive a visitor – his good friend and neighbour, the Marquis de Bercour. He assured her that he was an excellent man and brought him round immediately after lunch. The marquis was the handsomest man in the world; his hair was black and arranged in thick, natural-looking curls. It was cut in line with the ears so that his diamond earrings could be seen. On this particular day he had attached to each of these a pearl. He also wore two or three beauty spots (no more) to emphasise his fine complexion.

Ah, brother, said the marquise, is this the Marquis de Bercour? Yes, madame, replied the marquis, and he cannot live any longer without seeing the loveliest girl in the world.

As he said this he turned towards the little marquise, who was beside herself with joy. They sat and talked, exchanging news, discussing amusements and new books. The little marquise was a versatile conversationalist, and they were soon at ease with one another. The old councillor was the first to leave, the marquis the last, having remained as long as he felt he could.

After this he never missed an opportunity of paying court to the girl he loved, and always made sure that everything was perfect. When the good weather came and they went out walking to Vincennes or in the Bois, they would find a magnificent collation, which seemed to have been brought there by magic, at a place specially chosen in the shade of some trees. One day there would be violins; the next oboes. The marquis had apparently given no instructions, yet it was obvious that he had arranged everything. Nevertheless, it took several days to guess who had given the little marquise a magnificent present. One morning a carrier brought a chest to her house which he said was from the Comtesse Alettef. She opened it eagerly and was delighted to find in it gloves, scents, pomades, perfumed oils, gold boxes, little toilet cases, more than a dozen snuff boxes in different styles, and countless other treasures. The little marquise wanted to thank the comtesse, who had no idea what she was talking about. She found out in the end, but reproached herself more than once for not having guessed at once.

These little attentions advanced the marquis’s cause considerably. The little marquise greatly appreciated them. Madame, she said to her mother with admirable honesty, I no longer know where I am. Once I wanted to be beautiful in everyone’s eyes; now the only person I want to find me beautiful is the marquis. I used to love balls, plays, receptions, places where there was a lot of noise. Now I’m tired of all that. My only pleasure in life is to be alone and think about the man I love. He’s coming soon, I whisper to myself. Perhaps he’ll tell me he loves me. Yes, madame, he hasn’t said that yet; hasn’t spoken those wonderful words: I love you, though his eyes and his actions have told me so a hundred times. Then, my child, replied the marquise, I’m very sorry for you. You were happy before you saw the marquis. You enjoyed everyone’s company; everyone loved you and you loved only yourself, your own person, your beauty. You were wholly consumed with the desire to please, and please you did. Why change such a delightful life? Take my advice, my dear child: let your sole concern be to profit from the advantages nature has given you. Be beautiful: you have experienced that joy; is there any other to touch it? To draw everyone’s gaze; to win all hearts; to delight people wherever one goes; to hear oneself praised continually, and not by flatterers; to be loved by all and love only oneself: that, my child, is the height of happiness, and you can enjoy it for a long time. You are a queen, don’t make yourself a slave: you must resist at the outset a passion that is carrying you away in spite of yourself. Now you command, but soon you will obey. Men are fickle: the marquis loves you today – tomorrow he will love someone else.

Stop loving me! said the little marquise. Love someone else! And she burst into tears.

Her mother, who loved her dearly, tried to console her and succeeded by telling her that the marquis was coming. There was a lot at stake and this incipient passion caused her considerable alarm. Where will it lead? she asked herself. To what bizarre conclusion. If the marquis declares himself – if he plucks up courage and asks for certain favours – she will refuse him nothing. But then, she reflected, the little marquise has been well trained; she is sensible; at most she will grant such trifling favours as will leave them in ignorance – an ignorance essential to their happiness.

They were talking like this when someone came to tell them that the marquis had sent them a dozen partridges, and that he was at the door, not daring to enter as he had just returned from hunting.

Send him in! cried the little marquise. We want to see him in his hunting clothes. He entered a moment later, all apologies for powder marks, sun burn and a dishevelled wig. No, no, said the little marquise. I assure you, we like you better dressed informally like this than in all your finery. If that is so, madame, he replied, next time you will see me dressed as a stoker.

He remained standing, as though about to leave. They made him sit and the marquise, kind soul, told them to sit together while she went to her study to write. The chambermaids knew what was what and withdrew to the dressing-room, leaving the lovers alone together. They were silent for a while. The little marquise, still flustered after her talk with her mother, scarcely dared raise her eyes, and the marquis, even more embarrassed, looked at her and sighed. There was something tender in this silence. The looks they exchanged, the sighs they could not contain, were for them a form of language – a language lovers often use – and their mutual embarrassment seemed to them a sign of love. The little marquise was the first to awake from this reverie.

You’re dreaming, marquis, she said. What of? Hunting? Ah, beautiful marquise, said the marquis, how lucky hunters are! They are not in love. What do you mean? she rejoined. Is being in love really so terrible? Madame, he replied, it is the greatest happiness in life. But unrequited love is the greatest misfortune. I am in love and it is not requited. I am in love with the most beautiful girl in the world. Venus herself would not dare put herself before her. I love her and she does not love me. She has no feelings. She sees me, she listens to me, and she remains cruelly silent. She even turns her eyes away from mine. How heartless! How can I doubt my fate? As he spoke these last words, the marquis knelt down before the little marquise and kissed her hands – nor did she object. Her eyes were lowered and let fall great tears.

Beautiful marquise, he said, you’re crying. You’re crying and I know the reason for your tears. My love is irksome to you. Ah, marquis, she answered with a heavy sigh, one can cry for joy as well as pain. I’ve never been so happy. She said no more and, stretching out her arms to her beloved marquis, granted him the favours she would have denied all the kings of the earth. Caresses were all the protestations of love they needed. The marquis found in the little marquise’s lips a compliance that her eyes had hidden from him, and this conversation would have lasted longer if the marquise had not emerged from her study. She found them laughing and crying at the same time, and wondered whether such tears had ever needed drying.

The marquis immediately rose to leave, but the marquise said to him pleasantly: Monsieur, won’t you stay and dine on the partridges you brought? He needed little persuading. What he desired more than anything else in the world was to be on familiar terms in this house. He stayed, even though he was dressed in hunting clothes, and had the exquisite pleasure of seeing the girl he loved eat. It is one of life’s chief delights. To watch at close quarters a pink mouth that, as it opens, reveals gums of coral and teeth of alabaster; that opens and closes with the rapidity that accompanies all the actions of youth; to see a beautiful face animated by an often repeated pleasure, and to be experiencing the same pleasure at the same time – this is a privilege love grants to few.

After that happy day the marquis made sure he dined there every night. It was a regular affair and the little marquise’s suitors, who had had no cause to be jealous of one another, took it as settled. She had made her choice and they all admitted that beauty and vanity, however powerful, are no defence against love. The Comte d’****, one of her most ardent admirers, had a keen sense that his passion was being made light of. He was handsome, well built, brave, a soldier: he could not allow the little marquise to give herself to the Marquis de Bercour, whom he considered vastly inferior in every respect to himself. He decided to pick a quarrel with him and so disgrace him, thinking him too effeminate to dare cross swords with him. However, to his great surprise, at the first word he uttered when they met at the Porte des Tuileries, the marquis drew his sword and thrust at him with gusto. After a hard-fought duel they were parted by mutual friends.

This adventure pleased the little marquise. It gave her lover a war-like air, though she trembled for him nevertheless. She saw clearly that her beauty and her preference for him would constantly be exposing him to such encounters, and she said to him one day: Marquis, we must put an end to jealousy once and for all; we must silence gossip. We love one another and always will. We must bind ourselves to one another with ties that only death can break.

Ah, beautiful marquise, he said, what are you thinking of? Does our happiness bore you? Marriage, as a rule, puts an end to pleasure. Let us remain as we are. For my part, I am content with your favours and will never ask you for anything more. But I am not content, said the little marquise. I can see clearly that there is something missing in our happiness, and perhaps we will find it when you belong to me entirely, and I to you. It would not be right, replied the marquis, for you to throw in your lot with a younger son who has spent the bulk of his fortune and whom you still know only by appearances, which are often deceptive.

But that’s just what I love about it, she interrupted. I’m so happy that I have enough money for us both, and to have the chance of showing you that I love you and you alone.

They had reached this point when the Marquise de Banneville interrupted them. She had been closeted with her agents, and thought she would refresh herself with some lively young company, but she found them in a deeply serious mood. The marquis had been greatly put out by the little marquise’s proposal. Ostensibly it was very much to his advantage, but he had secret objections to it, which he considered insurmountable. The little marquise, for her part, was a little annoyed at having taken such a bold step in vain, but she soon recovered, deciding that the marquis had refused out of respect for her – or that he wished to prove the depth of his feelings for her. This thought made her decide to speak to her mother about it, and she did so the following day.

No one was ever more astonished than the Marquise de Banneville when her daughter spoke to her of marriage. She was sixteen and no longer a child. Her eyes had not been opened to her situation, and her mother hoped they never would be. She was careful not to agree to the match, but to reveal the truth would have been a painful solution both for her daughter and the marquis. She resolved to do so only as a last resort. Meanwhile she would prevent, or at least postpone, the marriage. The marquis was in agreement with her on this, but the little marquise – passionate creature that she was – begged, entreated, wept, used every means to persuade her mother. She never doubted her lover, since he did not dare oppose her with the same firmness. Finally she pushed her mother to the point where she said these words to her: My dear child, you leave me no choice: against my better judgement I must reveal to you something that I would have given my life to conceal from you. I loved your poor father and when I lost him so tragically, in dread of your meeting the same fate, I prayed with all my heart for a daughter. I was not so fortunate: I gave birth to a son and I have brought him up as a daughter. His sweetness, his inclinations, his beauty, all assisted my plan. I have a son and the whole world believes I have a daughter. Ah, madame! cried the little marquise, is it possible that I …? Yes, my child, said her mother embracing her, you are a boy. I can see how painful this news must be for you. Habit has given you a different nature. You are used to a life very different from the one you might have led. I wanted you to be happy and would never have revealed the sad truth to you if your obstinacy over the marquis had not forced me to. You see now what you were about to do? How, but for me, you would have exposed yourself to public ridicule?

The little marquise did not answer. Instead she merely wept and in vain her mother said to her: But my child, go on living as you were. Be the beautiful little marquise still – loved, adored by all who see her. Love your beautiful marquis if you like, but do not think of marrying him. Alas! cried the little marquise through her tears, he has asked for nothing more. He flies into a rage when I mention marriage. Ah! Could it be that he knows my secret? If I thought that, dear mother, I would go and hide myself in the furthest corner of the earth. Could he know it? In floods of tears now, she added: Alas, poor little marquise, what will you do? Will you dare show your face again and act the beauty? But what have you said? What have you done? What name can one give the favours you have granted the marquis? Blush! Blush, unhappy girl! Ah, nature you are blind: why did you not warn me of my duty? Alas! I acted in good faith, but now I see the truth and I must behave quite differently in future. I must not think about the man I love – I must do what is right.

She was uttering these words with determination when it was announced that the marquis was at the door of the antechamber. He entered with a happy air and was amazed to see both mother and daughter with lowered eyes and in tears. The mother did not wait for him to speak but rose and went to her room. He took courage and said: What’s the matter, beautiful marquise? If something is distressing you, won’t you share it with your friends? What? You won’t even look at me! Am I the cause of this weeping? Am I to blame without knowing it?

The little marquise dissolved in tears. No! No! she cried. No! That could never be, and if it were so I would not feel as I do. Nature is wise and there is a reason for everything she does.

The marquis had no idea what all this meant. He was asking for an explanation when the marquise, who had recovered a little, left her room and came to her daughter’s aid. Look at her, she said to the marquis. As you see, she is quite beside herself. I am to blame. I tried to stop her but she would have her fortune told, and they said she would never marry the man she loved. That has upset her, Monsieur le Marquis, and you know why.

For my part, madame, he replied, I am not at all upset. Let her remain always as she is. I ask only to see her. I shall be more than happy if she will consider me her best friend.

With this the conversation ended. Emotions had been stirred, and would take time to settle. But they settled so completely that after eight days there was no sign of any upheaval. The marquis’s presence, his charm, his caresses, obliterated from the little marquise’s mind everything her mother had told her. She no longer believed any of it, or rather did not wish to believe. Pleasure triumphed over reflection. She lived as she had done before with her lover and felt her passion increase with such violence that thoughts of a lasting union returned to torment her. Yes, she said to herself, he cannot go back on his word now. He will never desert me. She had resolved to speak of it again, when her mother fell ill. Her illness was so grave that after three days all hope of a cure was abandoned. She made her will and sent for her brother, the councillor, whom she appointed the little marquise’s guardian. He was her uncle and her heir, since all the property came from the mother. She confided to him the truth about her daughter’s birth, begging him to take it seriously and to let her lead a life of innocent pleasure that would harm no one and which, since it precluded her marrying, would guarantee his children a rich inheritance.

The good councillor was delighted at this news and saw his sister die without shedding a tear. The income of thirty thousand francs that she left the little marquise seemed certain to pass to his children, and he had only to encourage his niece’s infatuation for the marquis. He did so with great success, telling her that he would be like a father to her and had no wish to be her guardian except in name.

This sympathetic behaviour consoled the little marquise somewhat – and she was certainly distraught – but the sight of her beloved marquis consoled her even more. She saw that she was absolute mistress of her fate, and her sole aim was to share it with the man she loved. Six months of official mourning passed, after which pleasures of all kinds once again filled her life. She went often to balls, the theatre, the opera, and always in the same company. The marquis never left her side and all her other suitors, seeing that it was a settled affair, had withdrawn. They lived happily and would perhaps have thought of nothing else, if malicious tongues could have left them in peace. Everywhere, people were saying that, while the little marquise was beautiful, since her mother’s death she had lost all sense of decorum: she was seen everywhere with the marquis; he was practically living in her house; he dined there every day and never left before midnight. Her best friends found grounds for censure in this: they sent her anonymous letters and warned her uncle, who spoke to her about it. Finally, things went so far that the little marquise went back to her first idea and decided to marry the marquis. She put this to him forcefully; he resisted likewise, only agreeing on condition that the marriage would be a purely public affair, and that they would live together like brother and sister. This, he said, was how they must always love one another. The little marquise readily agreed. She often remembered what her mother had told her. She spoke of it to her uncle, who began by outlining all the pitfalls of marriage and ended by giving his consent. He saw that, by this means, the income of thirty thousand francs was sure to pass to his family. There was no danger of his niece having children by the Marquis de Bercour whereas, if she did not marry him, her notion that she was a girl might change with time and with her beauty, which was sure to fade. So a wedding day was fixed on, bridal clothes made and the ceremony held at the good uncle’s house. (As guardian he undertook to give the wedding feast.)

The little marquise had never looked as beautiful as she did that day. She wore a dress of black velours completely covered in gems, pink ribbons in her hair and diamond pendants in her ears. The Comtesse d’Alettef, who would always love her, went with her to the church, where the marquis was waiting. He wore a black velours cloak decked with gold braid, his hair was in curls, his face powdered, there were diamond pendants in his ears and beauty spots on his face. In short, he was adorned in such a way that his best friends could not excuse such vanity. The couple were united for ever and everyone showered them with blessings. The banquet was magnificent, the king’s music and the violons were there. At last the hour came and relatives and friends put the couple together in a nuptial bed and embraced them, the men laughing, a few good old aunts weeping.

It was then that the little marquise was astonished to find how cold and insensitive her lover was. He stayed at one end of the bed, sighing and weeping. She approached him tentatively. He did not seem to notice her. Finally, no longer able to endure so painful a state of affairs, she said: What have I done to you, marquis? Don’t you love me any more? Answer me or I shall die, and it will be your fault.

Alas, madame, said the marquis, didn’t I tell you? We were living together happily – you loved me – and now you will hate me. I have deceived you. Come here and see.

So saying he took her hand and placed it on the most beautiful bosom in the world. You see, he said, dissolving in tears, you see I am useless to you: I am a woman like you.

Who could describe here the little marquise’s surprise and delight? At this moment she had no doubt that she was a boy and, throwing herself into the arms of her beloved marquis, she gave him the same surprise, the same delight. They soon made their peace, wondered at their fate – a fate that had brought matters on to such a happy conclusion – and exchanged a thousand vows of undying love.

As for me, said the little marquise, I am too used to being a girl, and I want to remain one all my life. How could I bring myself to wear a man’s hat?

And I, said the marquis, have used a sword more than once without disgracing myself. I’ll tell you about my adventures some day. Let’s continue as we are, then. Beautiful marquise, enjoy all the pleasures of your sex, and I shall enjoy all the freedom of mine.

The day after the wedding they received the usual compliments and, eight days later, left for the provinces, where they still live in one of their châteaux. The uncle should visit them there: he would find, to his surprise, that a beautiful child has resulted from their marriage – one to put paid to his hopes of a rich inheritance.

#Charles Perrault #François-Timoléon De Choisy #genderqueer folktales #trans representation #laura retells #except not really it's more like laura copy pastes this time

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