#giuliana capulet

[dailystillstarcrossed]

Still Star-Crossed One Year Anniversary | Favorite Dynamic ↳ The House of Capulet

[kitoky]

You keep us in this house not out of generosity but out of jealousy of a woman who died years ago.

[iris-candice-clemons-west]

When Still Star- Crossed gets cancelled and ends on a cliffhanger *Update* When SSC have Rosvolio KISS and you remember that you’re not gonna see what happens after

[veronagifs]

Ladies talking to each other in 1x01

[deputy-ajay-ghale]

Can you believe that Still Star Crossed ended with canon Rosvolio, Escalus and Isabella ruling Verona as a team along with Izzy's Venetian girlfriend, redemption for Giuliana, and Livia stabbing Paris to death???? Man, that's how you end a show.

[etherealnoir]

Gloomy Sunday (Still Star-Crossed!AU)

Characters: Rosaline Capulet, Benvolio Montague, (Prince) Escalus, Giuliana Capulet, Silvestro Capulet, Damiano Montague

Warnings: Smoking, swearing, death, implied abuse/negligence, implied racism.

Word Count: 3K

Setting: New York City, 1940s

Author's Note: I started writing this for Still Star Crossed Appreciation Month, but got side tracked and fell off because adult responsibilities. If I wrote everything I wanted to, it'd be miles longer.

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

Rosaline cursed at her cousin’s grave on the day of her funeral.

The clouds rolled in, dark and heavy with impending rain. The cold air nipped at her ankles through her pantyhose. She frowned at the lowering casket, guilty that she couldn’t protect the girl and angry that she wouldn’t listen. Aunt Giuliana dropped onto her knees in the grass beside the grave, and wailed as she reached aimlessly for her daughter’s ivory casket.

“Let me be with her! Please!” She cried as her husband knelt beside her and held her shaking form close, “They took my baby! Those bastards took my baby from me!”

He whispered something to her, but it was no use. She struggled against him, trying to pull him off of her.

“Let me be with my baby!” She screamed, “My Julie! My baby! I can’t do this without her!”

Livia turned away as a fresh pool of tears rolled down her cheeks, stifling a sharp gasp from the emotion bubbling in her chest. Rosaline stood firm, jaw clenched, staring down at the grave like it was the barrel of a smoking gun. She swallowed the lump in her throat, steeling herself for the public.

She told Juliet a thousand times to leave the boy alone. He was nothing but trouble, and her family wouldn’t accept them.

Everyone knew that she was there when Juliet was found. Nobody had the guts to ask her what happened. Maybe they were afraid of how she’d respond. Or maybe they were cautious enough to not get on the Capulet family’s bad side. Nonetheless, Rosaline remained firm in her silence. Even when Giuliana threatened her with violence. Even when she lost sleep and spent hours smoking on the fire escape of her tiny apartment. Even when she stared out into space and lost track of what she was doing. The days leading up to Juliet’s funeral melted into one another, becoming a long blur of gray and pale white and the occasional flash of guilty red splattered on the walls of her living space.

The ride back to the Upper East Side from Long Island was a quiet and tense one, save the occasional sniffle from Giuliana and the low whispers between Silvestro and his scary looking, scar-ridden associate. Rosaline and Livia sat side by side in the uncomfortable front seats beside the colored driver, making their status in the family apparent to everyone in the car. Rosaline wasn’t entirely sure Giuliana wouldn’t suddenly snap and lunge at her if she so much as glanced in her direction, so she was partially grateful for the distance. Instead, Rosaline leaned against the car door, watching the first few drops of the oncoming storm race down the window. She felt Livia slip her hand in hers and give it a small squeeze. Her younger sister had a knack for understanding when she was needed, but she never pried or pushed which made a huge difference. Livia was kind and forgiving in ways that Rosaline wasn’t. She was sure it was why her aunt was relatively nicer to her, and maybe even preferred that she was the new heir to the Capulet fortune. She was inclined to agree.

Anyone with sense could tell that this was a burden Rosaline didn’t want. The resentment towards Juliet for leaving her with this crept up the back of her neck and sat heavily on her shoulders, joined by guilt for being mad at a child for acting the part of a child.

“Could we listen to the radio?” Livia asked the driver, sweetly, “You can play it low, if you like.”

Moments later, jazz filled the tense car, cutting through the thick energy like a white hot knife. In the window’s reflection, Rosaline watched Livia close her eyes and allow herself to get lost in the melody. No doubt she was imagining being whisked onto a dancefloor with a handsome boy of high social stature. Rosaline wasn’t much of a dancer, but was a happy spectator whenever Liv managed to get her out at night. It was Livia who introduced her to Jazz. She became fast friends with their parents’ old Cotton Club peers and the up and coming musicians playing in the exclusive parts of the city. Despite what Liv said, Rosaline was inclined to believe these spirited men were filled to the brim with unrealistic optimism. Livia was determined to believe they were destined for fame and fortune, falling for one after the other with hopes of being some lucky musician’s ingenue. Everyone thought they were the next Cab Calloway. They couldn’t all be famous.

“For CHRIST’S SAKE, turn that off!” Giuliana spat from the back of the car, “We’re mourning my child’s death, not drinking gin in a run down alley!”

All three front seat occupants exchanged glances before the driver fidgeted with the dial, choosing to stop at a classical music station.

“Aaah...” Silvestro sighed, “now this is music. It reminds me of our trip to Vienna after the war. What year was that, honey?”

“‘24.” She mumbled, barely hiding her disinterest in the conversation.

“Mmm, yes. 1924. We were staying at Count Weiss’ estate. And his wife...uh...Jacqueline was it? She was there. We went to that wonderful little salon where the band played that one song. How did it go…?”

He hummed some nondescript tune that Rosaline didn’t recognize. Rosaline risked a glance over her shoulder. Of course he was drunk. At least he was a pleasant drunk.

She shifted her gaze, accidentally locking eyes with her uncle’s associate. He licked his lips at her.

She felt her eye twitch in disgust as she quickly faced the front of the car again.

--x--

Rosaline wasn’t surprised when Giuliana decided that she had to find her own way back home from the townhouse. It was dark, and the air was damp and cold from the late-autumn rain. People passed with their heads hiding beneath large umbrellas or soggy, heavy trench coats. The result of her hot comb treatment was devolving into a depressing mess of thick hair shrinking around her shoulders, as the wind turned her umbrella inside out.

Her aunt knew that she hated taking the train at night. This was punishment. She considered hailing a taxi, and then remembered her location. There was no way one would stop for her. The only other option was to walk across the width of the park. Her heels clicked across the slick pavement as cars passed, nearly splashing her every time they got too close to the curb. By the time she arrived at her apartment, she knew she looked like a drowned, miserable rat.

After stripping the soggy clothes off her cold skin, and bathing the filth of the day away, all she wanted to do was lay in bed and disassociate. Instead, she hung her clothing up to dry on the radiator, and climbed out onto the fire escape in one of her mother’s old long nightgowns. The rain finally stopped, but Rosaline was still careful to not get her clothes wet as she looked out at the passing cars below. It was well after midnight on a Sunday, and people were still out and about as if they had all the time in the world. She was almost jealous.

Rosaline held a Lucky Strike between her lips, and struck a match, shielding it from the breeze. She hadn’t had a smoke all day, and she’d convinced Livia that she kicked the habit. Something about the quiet of the night made her feel unbearably lonely.

Loneliness often led to past behaviors showing up like an old friend.

One of her father’s Jazz records played quietly from her bedroom. It was a low, melancholy song by a woman with a raspy voice. Nothing she recognized. But it was probably about love, or losing love, or never having love. She swallowed hard as she watched a gray plume of smoke escape her lips and float into the night sky.

“You know, you really shouldn’t smoke,” a voice called out from below, “It’s unbecoming for a woman of your magnitude.”

Rosaline groaned, and rolled her eyes. Not him. Not now.

“I suppose I should take up some other vices then. Maybe liquor and women?” She shot back.

Benvolio Montague grimaced, acknowledging the hypocrisy of his words. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he watched her from the sidewalk, “There’s that unwavering Capulet wittiness.”

“What do you want?” Rosaline said, clearly annoyed by his presence, “Don’t you have some shady characters to mingle with somewhere else?”

“I just…” something crossed his features, but he quickly pulled it back, “I’m sorry about Juliet. I heard the funeral was today. I would’ve come, but...you know.”

Rosaline took another drag from her cigarette and leaned up against the fire escape railing, “Yeah, I know.”

There was an awkward pause as they searched for the right words to say.

“I always did kind of like her,” Benvolio admitted, feebly, “She was a good kid. Kept her head in the books, unlike the rest of us. She didn’t deserve that. What happened, I mean.”

Rosaline said nothing but watched him carefully for a moment, trying to assess the situation.

“Thank you for your condolences. I’m sorry for your loss, too. But what’s the real reason you’re here? You don’t normally trek all the way uptown without a motive. Not when this could’ve been a telegraph.”

Benvolio tapped the side of his head and let out a low, humorless chuckle.

“There you go, being astute,” he sighed, “We gotta meet with Cal.”

Fuck.

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Can’t it wait? I’ve just settled in for the night.”

“Yeah, sure. Let me just ring him up and let him know you’re a little drowsy. I’m sure he’d be obliged to move the meeting to whenever you’re available, Princess.” And there he was. The Ben she knew, all awkward pleasantries pushed aside. The normalcy was comfortable. “No, it can’t wait. Another fight broke out with one of your uncle’s men and one of my uncle’s men. Cal’s not fuckin’ happy. It’s makin’ his place look bad.”

She put out her cigarette, annoyed that she didn’t have time to light another before she got dressed, “Does Silvestro know?”

“No. Apparently Cal called him to get you, but the old man was drunk. My uncle told me, I figured I’d just come get you. You’re welcome, by the way.”

She rolled her eyes, but inwardly felt a sense of disappointment that Cal didn’t come get her himself. All things considered, she didn’t see why he’d avoid her. She licked her lips and stepped away from the railing.

“Let me get proper. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Hurry up. Cal’s already mad, we don’t want him to kill us.”

She almost argued that he would never kill anyone, but that was a bold statement that she wasn’t 100% confident in.

--x--

Escalus’ club looked different when it was empty. When the dancers were done, and the liquor was put away, and the tables were stacked and shoved in the corner, it looked nearly menacing. With the ornate sconces out for the evening, the low overhead lights cast shadows along the walls, making Cal’s men look much larger and more intimidating than usual. In comparison, the young man looked much more like a novice. It was a fact that he was well aware of, as he had to take over his father’s club and businesses after his untimely death. Rosaline could remember a time when there was a softness to his face and hands that made her stomach flip in place when she saw him. In a little over a year, she watched as his features sharped and his hands became dusted with bruises and scars.

When she entered the room and his eyes softened, she saw a slight hint of that boy she knew as a kid. It immediately hardened again when Benvolio sidled up beside her and his eyes flickered between the two. Either he knew something they didn’t know, or he was making a very strong assumption.

“Huh…” he gestured to them with his chin, “What’re the odds of you showing up together?”

Rosaline opened her mouth to protest, but Ben beat her to it with a snort.

“It was a favor. She had no way to get here. It was the least I could do, y’know? After today…” he drifted off and shoved his hands into his vest pockets.

Escalus eyed her carefully as if trying to find the right words, and took a deep breath.

“My condolences...to you both. It was awfully crummy what happened to those kids. And I’m not gonna pass the buck. It was fucked up. I should’ve been more on top of things and I wasn’t doing my job. I should’ve been taking care of y- of things.”

Rosaline caught his gaze and held it for a moment, before he swallowed hard and forced his eyes to sweep the room full of goons. They came from both families, some of whom Rosaline recognized and some she didn’t.

“That’s why I called you all here tonight. This shit has gotta stop! You are messin’ with my business,” he continued, his voice thick with authority. Rosaline bit her lower lip, surprised and mildly turned on by the bass in his tone, “and when you mess with my business, you mess with my money. And when you mess with my money, I get mad.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Rosaline saw Benvolio’s uncle slip in between the double doors, and stand beside his men.

“Ah, so you did decide to show up,” Escalus said, staring pointedly at the new arrival.

“My apologies, sir,” Damiano removed his hat and bowed his head, “I had some...stuff to take care of back home.”

“This,” Escalus motioned to him, “is more important than whatever cockeyed business you’ve got. Your men are out of control, and clearly Benvolio is the only one taking this seriously, considering he had time to swing by and get Rosaline before you even got here.”

“Well that’s hardly fair. Silvestro isn’t even here,” Damiano mumbled under his breath. In a flash Escalus was across the room and nose-to-nose with the elder man.

“Did I ask where Silvestro was? Nah, buddy, you’re only accountable for yourself and your men. When your shit goes belly up because of these yucks, you only have yourself to blame.”

Benvolio raised his brows, clearly as surprised by Escalus as Rosaline was.

“My deepest apologies, sir. I didn’t--I won’t speak out of turn, again.”

Escalus sized him up for a moment before backing off and returning to the front of the room, “Yeah. You might want to consider who funds your business ventures the next time you decide to do that,” he cleared his throat and readjusted his suit jacket, “Where were we? Right. Your family is giving me bad press. I can’t have classy parties interrupted by your interfamily troubles. Not when I have people to impress and goals to meet. It’s ruining my reputation.”

Rosaline didn’t see how this was her issue. She tried to stay out of Capulet business. Despite her rite to leadership by blood, the Capulets made it clear that she wasn’t exactly included in their affairs now that her father wasn’t around to advocate for her. And good riddance. She took the opportunity to glance over at Benvolio as Escalus scolded the group at large, and he looked to be deep in thought. His sharp jaw worked and his thick brows furrowed. Perhaps he was thinking the same thing: What did this have to do with either of them? Benvolio had been known to get into a few brawls. But since Romeo’s passing, he’d been a recluse.

“And so, after consulting with both heads of the family, I decided…” Escalus clasped his hands together, pulling Rosaline out of her stupor, “we’re gonna have a wedding.”

There was a long silence. No one really understood where he was going with this. Rosaline’s heart stopped at the thought of him being engaged to another woman so quickly after…

“I’m sorry,” Rosaline said, shaking her head, “whose wedding?”

Escalus forced a smile on his face that looked more like a grimace, “Yours. To Benvolio Montague.”

“Absolutely not!” Rosaline felt the lump in her throat grow, and her stomach dropped, “I never agreed to any of this! Neither of us did!” She turned to Benvolio for back up, but he continued to stare at the ground with a clenched jaw, “Benvolio did you know about this?!”

“Of course not,” he replied sharply, refusing to meet her eyes, “This is the first I’m hearing about it. Same as you.”

The men in the room whispered among one another at the news, and Rosaline looked around the room for a sympathetic face. Any sympathetic face. Silvestro caught her gaze and frowned, but stiffened his back.

“It’s for the good of the families,” he said, firm in his stance.

“Yeah…” Benvolio mumbled half-heartedly, “The good of the families.”

“This is madness!” Rosaline spat. Her panicked eyes found Escalus and fury built in her chest, “It’s nineteen forty-eight, god damn it! How dare you marry me off like it’s the Middle Ages? I deserve to have a say! I’m as important as any of you bastards. Don’t I matter? Doesn’t what I want matter?”

Escalus squinted at her. “Don’t be hysterical,” he spat, “It’s on my dime. You get to stay home. You don’t gotta work a day in your life. Benny boy here gets to look over both companies, and you just gotta relax. If anything, I’d say Benvolio’s getting the short end of the stick.”

Escalus knew. He knew she wanted to go to school and work at the library. He knew she had plans for her life. She watched as every dream she had vanished in front of her eyes. Benvolio said something in her defense, but it sounded like white noise. Her vision started to spin, and her lungs tightened. She turned on her heels and rushed from the room as fast as she could.

Rosaline felt like she’d been slapped.

[cuorepietoso]

-004. MASKS

     The day-to-day.

     The wraith that skulks about in the city on the average day is a creature of few words and even fewer smiles. He seems restless and serene in equal turn, always watching with a strange sort of stillness interrupted by the occasional fidget, thoughts spilling silently out of him like blood. He’s a chameleon-- average height and nondescript clothing, sunglasses doing little to hide the sleepless nights written into the lines in his face and the bags under his eyes. Crowds swallow him, and the individual eye skips over him completely. Unrecognized by all but a few.

     The neighbors.

     To Sana Jamshidi, to Marco Rivera, to Flavio, to Giuliana, Battista is a strange but helpful lone wolf. Seemingly existing in a state of constant exhaustion and quiet bemusement, rarely speaking, always willing to fix a pipe or some lighting, to patch a hole. Willing to babysit the kids of the single mother down the hall, and tolerate the landlord so they don’t have to. The reluctant recipient of whatever recipe the culinary student on the first floor is testing, of baked goods from the old crone the floor below him, of hard cheek pinches and cooed concern over how skinny he is. The veteran with a habit of feeding stray cats. 

     The lovers.

     Broad grins and clever fingers, smooth euphoria only ever lasting for a single night. A charming smile, cool hands in the heat of the moment, and a warm silence as he cards his fingers through their hair. Unexpected tenderness in the feeling of cold fingers on a cheek, loved and lost. All he ever is, bits and pieces of what he used to be stitched back together for a quick fix of something he only allows himself to indulge in with strangers. They’re lucky if they know his name.

     The Capulets.

     A mystery, new to the city, a man with a face and demeanor so unassuming he can walk unrecognized by all but a few. A cold-blooded creature from the unknown depths, always shooting to kill, a holy terror in a city that only claims to play for keeps. Little more than a black pit himself, leading a life so redacted that even the best of hackers can’t get any useful information on him. Benedick. Captain Tahan. Where does he live? What, who does he love? Is there anything to him other than rumors of missing people and bodies buried so deep they may never again surface? Hard to say, impossible to know. 

     The Montagues.

     Only ever answering questions about himself with clipped, bare bones responses, and never otherwise volunteering any information, to his coworkers Benedick ever remains a question mark. Faded into the background by design, motivations unknown and unseen. Controlling and cooly polite and almost always infuriatingly right, voice and hands cold but gentle as he talks his way through a concussion protocol. The scraps of kindness he allows himself to dole out come often from left field, when he sits quietly with a young soldier after their first kill, or wishes someone’s sick relative well, or as he keeps his tone low and even as he clamps the artery of someone bleeding out on a steel table in a cold warehouse. Blink and you miss them, miss him.

     The Reality.

     There’s a patchwork quality to the truth of him, pieces of who he was and what he wants himself to be sewn together with a shaky hand, worn thin in some places. He is a Golem. Silent and cold and formed of clay, perfectly obedient, perfectly monstrous. Never truly alive, victim and villain in equal turn. His is a Thief, silent in the night, sticky fingered and clever. A Healer, careful kindness rationed lest he run out, and a Killer, meticulous and cold. A Man. A Ghost. A lost soul, rudderless in a stormy sea. 

     Battista Tahan is a man of many names and many faces. A cool-head, a humorless gun, a logical planner, a goddamn comedian. Familiar but distant as the cold light of a star in the night, to those that knew him before. The arm’s distance he tries to hold others at. 

     There’s something left of him, there has to be, but he doesn’t know what exactly it is.

[silvertons]

Livia is so very gracious. But you... You never seem to appreciate anything I've done for you.

[fallinfor-youreyes]

Straight Into Your Arms

For the Still Star Crossed 1 Year anniversary prompts by @dailystillstarcrossed. I just want to a major thank you to them for putting this together. It’s been great to see how many people still care about this amazing show that was taken from us.

Day 7: Comfort

Day 1 Day 2 Day 6 Ao3

(This is a continuation of the dance au but it’s not necessary to understand what’s going on.)

Everything hurts. She’s tired, exhausted, bone tired and with the beginnings of a migraine, but she can’t stop. Because stopping would be admitting to her vulture of an Aunt that she can’t. That she can’t figure out the dance Giuliana had choregraphed and performed 25 years ago, that she can’t perform the honorary dance at the newly christened Capulet Theater, that everything Giuliana had ever said about Rosaline was right.

She would never be as good of a dancer as the other Capulet’s before her, that she didn’t deserve the spot as head ballerina, that everything she was working to prove would be for nothing.

All because she couldn’t figure out a few simple moves to complete the routine.

She’s been practicing for over 8 hours and every bone in her body hurts. She has a few new bruises from falling, and worst of all, she’s alone.

Juliet had run off with Romeo, and by her last accounts, was teaching ballet for little kids in a prestigious California Studio. Livia was traveling Europe with one of the Verona Dance Academy’s investors son, who Rosaline had never met. And Benvolio, well, Benvolio was out in California as well, working on a music video that could change his career.

And she was the only one left, when she was the first one who thought of leaving.  

Rosaline does not agree with failure. She wants to prove herself, not only because it will be a slap in the face to her aunt, but also because this is one of the first times that her aunt and uncle have acknowledged that she is a Capulet, and one worthy of the family name. There’s some stupid part of her that is still 13, wanting the validation from her uncle. She wants them to be proud of her.

She falls again, landing harshly on her knee, and this time, she doesn’t get up.

The music continues to play, but she just folds into herself, bringing her knees up to her chest, and closing her eyes.

When she was 15, she made a promise to herself she would never cry over her aunt and uncle again. But this feels like a special circumstance.

She knows Giuliana gave her this dance because it’s difficult. Because it was the dance she used before she was a Capulet to make name for herself at Verona Dance Academy, that it was the dance that caught Rosaline’s fathers attention before Giuliana moved onto Silvestro.

She knows Giuliana wants her to fail.

So, she lets herself cry because her body hurts and now her knee is burning, and she only has 36 hours to learn this stupid dance.

Rosaline hears the doors to the dance studio open, but she doesn’t care. Let someone see her falling apart, she hasn’t allowed herself to do it in years.

The intruder is whistling along to the music, but they turn it off, and she can feel them sitting in front of her, but she refuses to look up.

“You know, most people expect happy tears when they come home after being gone for nearly a month.”

His hand brushes over her knee and she tries not to wince. Rosaline finally looks up at him. He’s tanner, his hair a little longer and a complete mess.

“Hi.” She says, and she throws herself at him, forcing him to catch her. “It’s been a long day.” She explains, wrapping her arms around his waist.

He presses a kiss into her hair, and pulls her closer.

“I can see that. I’ve missed you.”

She chokes back a sob, and holds on to him tighter.

“Hey, Rose, c’mon. What’s wrong?” He moves back slightly, so he can wipe the tears from her face.

“I can’t figure out the stupid dance, and my aunt is going to use it to massacre me, and god, I’ve missed you.” She slides her hands into his hair and tugs slightly. “It’s so long.”

Benvolio scoffs. “We’re not talking about me right now.”

She leans closer to him, until he’s close enough to kiss. “I’ve missed you.” She says again, because she has/

“I’ve miss you, too.” He surges forward and kisses her, and it’s been almost four weeks since she’s seen him, or held him, or kissed him, and for a minute, it makes everything feel better.

“Did you come straight from the airport?” She asks, once they pull back for breath.

He nods. “Well, first I went to your place, and when you were missing, I came to find you.”

“You should go home and get some sleep.”

He tightens her arms around her. “I’m not leaving without you.

“I have to practice. I need to get to this right.”

He brushes a tear from her cheek. “You can’t dance like this.” He presses a kiss you her forehead. “I know you Capulet. You are tired, and obviously emotionally drained. You need sleep. And then we can pick this up again tomorrow.”

“We?”

“I haven’t seen you in forever, Capulet. I don’t plan on leaving your side. And I can try to help you.”

She kisses him again, because he’s here, he’s present, because she might be falling a little bit in love with him.

“And you know, once this is over, maybe we can start thinking about California. A little more, permanently.” He says.

“What do you mean?” She asks.

“Romeo and Juliet were talking about maybe opening their own studio. And you know, we could move away from Verona and family grudges and have a place where ballet and hip hop and all other forms aren’t so separated.” He pauses, running his hands up her back. “Plus, I think you would love California.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.” He kisses her again, soft and slow. “I’ve missed you.” He mumbles against her lips, and she smiles.

“Let’s go home.” She says, and then Benvolio is effortlessly picking her up and spinning her, and her tears have dried, and she’s laughing.

She knows she doesn’t have the dance down yet. But Benvolio is home. And she might finally be able to leave.

Once Benvolio stops spinning them she grabs his face and leads his lips back to hers, and she lets herself relax. She can worry about her aunt and the dance and the new theater tomorrow.

Right now, all she wants to do is be with him.

[openmouthwideeye]

Rosvolio or Jake x Amy for the OTP meme please!

I went with canon!Rosvolio, because Jake x Amy are my happy brainless ship, & I’d have no clue for half of them.

Who is the most affectionate? Benvolio

Big spoon/Little spoon? Benvolio is usually the big spoon, but Rosaline big spoons if he’s had a rough day or she’s feeling particularly handsy

Most common argument? Escalus. Benvolio gets frustrated re: her practical approach to staying friendly with him, & Rosaline has trouble understanding why Benvolio isn’t secure enough in their relationship to stand up for himself. But twist! It’s actually a cover argument for the real issue of how they deal with abusive relatives

Favorite non-sexual activity? When they can escape their duties, they go horseback riding outside the city. They stop for picnics and Rosaline reads while Benvolio sketches. One afternoon she taught him needlepoint (he likes it better than she does) and he taught her the basics of fighting with a sword/dagger (she has more grit than finesse, but she holds her own)

Who is most likely to carry the other? Rosaline helps him to bed on the rare occasions he overindulges, complaining all the while. Ben likes to carry her, but she only indulges him in the bedroom

What is their favorite feature of their partner’s? He loves her eyes and that little affectionate smile when she lets herself just be. She loves sneaking glances at his ass but would die before admitting it. When he teases her about it, she insists there’s nothing she likes about him at all

What’s the first thing that changes when they realize they have feelings for the other? When someone challenges one of them, they’re challenging both of them. They always present a united front

Nicknames? & if so, how did they originate? They tease each other in public with overly saccharine nicknames, but when they’re alone, it’s always real names. Benvolio calls her “Rose” when his emotions get the best of him (this is true for both tender moments and angry ones), but Rosaline always calls him “Benvolio,” knowing how often he feels unworthy & wanting him to associate his name w/feelings of love

Who worries the most? Rosaline. Benvolio takes the stance that worrying only makes you suffer twice

Who remembers what the other one always orders at a restaurant? Both. She makes sure the kitchens make his favorite meals, and he remembers details like when she prefers certain wines & what faces she makes at certain flavors

Who tops? Benvolio to start, but Rosaline usually ends up on top

Who initiates kisses? She does at first because he’s v. conscious about making sure his advances are wanted. Once they establish a rhythm it’s usually Ben

Who reaches for the other’s hand first? Benvolio to show affection, Rosaline to show support

Who kisses the hardest? Benvolio. Rosaline prefers to explore

Who wakes up first? Rosaline

Who wants to stay in bed just a little longer? Benvolio. If he wakes up and she’s still there, he’ll wrap her in his arms & try to convince her to stay. But most of the time she’s already up, which makes lying abed less enticing

Who says I love you first? Benvolio. Rose is forthright with her feelings (“I trust you”) but Ben’s the one who drops the first actual ILY

Who leaves little notes in the other’s one lunch? (Bonus: what does it usually say?) Rosaline. They’re usually practical (don’t forget you promised to do XYZ), but they both know it’s her way of reminding him she cares. When she’s feeling impish, she’ll write him a terrible sonnet

Who tells their family/friends about their relationship first? Livia figures it out before Rosaline faces up to her feelings. She assumes Isabella knows, but she’s focused on running Verona & they have a v. awk convo. Ben tells his uncle in a fit of pique, but Rosaline wants to avoid her meddling family as long as possible, so Capulets Sr. don’t find out until she’s all, “Of course the wedding is still on!”

What do their family/friends think of their relationship? Isabella is wary & pretty outspoken about it, considering Rosaline’s vehement objections to the match & Benvolio’s reputation as a murderer/kidnapper. Once Rose wins her over, she’s pleasantly surprised by the genuine respect they have for each other. Livia is outwardly thrilled and quite smug. She takes every chance to tease her sister about husbands and nunneries, but keeps a close eye on Benvolio & worries more than she would have pre-Paris. Damiano uses their happiness to assuage his guilt & justify his actions, and it never crosses Silvestro or Giuliana’s mind to care that they’re happy (but they do, on occasion, try to use it to their advantage)

Who is more likely to start dancing with the other? Benvolio. He loves any excuse to touch her in public, & when they’re alone he likes to teach her tavern dances. He loves how exhilarated she gets, even if she refuses to partake in them in public

Who cooks more/who is better at cooking? Neither. Rosaline can, but she doesn’t enjoy it. Benvolio knows how to make soup and nothing else b/c he hovers over the cooks when someone he loves is ill.

Who comes up with cheesy pick up lines? Benvolio. They’re usually OTT on purpose, but sometimes he’ll say something absolutely ridiculous in earnest and Rosaline is just like, “Benvolio.”

Who whispers inappropriate things in the other’s ear during inappropriate times? Benvolio, but Rosaline gets her revenge

Who needs more assurance? Benvolio needs verbal affirmation (seeing Rosaline stand up for him mends a million broken things inside of him). Rosaline is more action-oriented. She gets assurance through the daily ways he looks out for her & spoils her (but she likes to hear it too)

What would be their theme song? I’m gonna jump out of the middle ages to say Certain Things by James Arthur

Who would sing to their child back to sleep? Rosaline sings their children to sleep, but if one wakes up in the middle of the night, Benvolio makes it to the nursery before the Nurse

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Rosaline keeps busy running the household, visiting Livia & Isabella, reading, & visiting the church to give alms. Benvolio distracts himself w/business, swordplay, and studying art techniques, but unless he’s buried in an art project, he’s annoyingly aware of every hour she’s gone

one headcanon about this OTP that breaks your heart They usually resolve disagreements early on, but when they fight, it hurts. Rosaline has a finely-tuned fight or flight instinct—she needs time to process her feelings, but when her temper flares, she wants to hash it out Right TF Now. Benvolio tends to wallow/avoid, and when he can’t, he straight up bares his soul, then gets hurt because she can’t deal with All the Emotions. Their conflicts are fraught because they fight on different levels & they’re still learning to navigate that

one headcanon about this OTP that mends it Neither can sleep if they’re fighting. Rosaline tosses & turns or bustles around the house doing meaningless tasks to avoid going to bed. Benvolio disappears into his studio or goes to a tavern and gets hammered. When they finally face each other, they’re both desperate to resolve things followed by makeup sex/snuggles, of course

[savingssc]

Chapters: 10/? Fandom: Still Star-Crossed (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rosaline Capulet/Benvolio Montague, Juliet Capulet/Romeo Montague, Livia Capulet / Paris, but he's a good guy in this one, past Rosaline/Escalus, Benvolio Montague/Rosaline Characters: Rosaline Capulet, Benvolio Montague, Livia Capulet, Juliet Capulet, Romeo Montague, Damiano Montague, Giuliana Capulet, more probably idk - Character Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, accidentally married in Vegas oops, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, or more accurately enemies to spouses to friends to lovers, protective!Rosaline, architecture ho!Benvolio, Nobody Dies, not even Romeo and Juliet that's right Summary:

In which Romeo and Juliet try to be impulsive and romantic, Rosaline and Benvolio get drunk and stupid, and what happens in Vegas... does NOT stay in Vegas.

[cookieswriting]

Feel Better, Capulet (SSC/Rosvolio - Querencia!arc fic)

((Set before Camaraderie!  Short and sweet, hope you enjoy!))

Movie night at Casa Montague, Dad’s headed out for the weekend so we have the place to ourselves! Ros isn’t answering Juliet, so if you see her between classes let her know will ya?

Benvolio grinned and typed out a quick response to his cousin.  It didn’t necessarily surprise him that his uncle hadn’t mentioned going out of town...it would give him too much to look forward to, after all...but it did little to hinder his relief coming into a full weekend of peace.  After a stressful week of classes and bartending, he was more than ready to make the most of his first weekend off work in months.

Before he could ask Romeo why he’d be the one to see Rosaline before her cousin, the object of his thoughts crossed into his line of vision.  Not far ahead of him, walking across the quad with her cellphone to her ear, the eldest Capulet wore a grim look on her face.  Benvolio watched silently for a moment before following her at enough of a distance to give her privacy.

Even with the distance, though, the shrill voice of whoever was on the other end of the line drifted back to him from time to time, and Rosaline’s apparent misery made sense.  Her caller was not happy.  As she tried to get a word in here and there, her shoulders visibly deflated inch by inch, until finally she just dropped onto a bench with a heavy sigh.  Ben froze, unsure of what to do, and concern filled him when she pinched the bridge of her nose.  He carefully stepped closer, trying not to spook her, and felt a strange surge of protectiveness take over at the sight of a tear slipping down her cheek.

“I know, Aunt Giuliana, I’m well aware of the cost.  I’m doing the best that I can to keep up with it, but the workload this semester is just a lot more intense than it’s been before, so I can’t work as much.  I-” Fingers tightened into a fist over her knee, and Benvolio clenched his jaw.  If he interrupted, she’d be embarrassed and more than a little annoyed with him; that much he knew from personal experience.  “Okay, yes ma’am, I understand.”  Benvolio hung back as she ended the call.  She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and took a slow breath; an exhaustion and vulnerability he’d never seen her show before seemed to weigh heavily on her shoulders.

Forcing a smile onto his face, Ben pretended as though he hadn’t heard or seen any of the exchange.  If she wanted to talk about it, she would bring it up...and probably not to him.  “Hey, Ros!” he called, jogging over to her.  By the time he sat down, any sign of her distress was gone, a mildly annoyed, mildly amused grin plastered on her face.  Idly, he wondered if he had that same ability when it came to covering up the stress caused by his uncle.  

“Montague,” she commented.  Despite her smooth mask, Benvolio could hear the strain in her voice.  “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“My uncle is heading out of town for business this weekend, so we are kicking off celebrations with a movie night tonight.  Juliet has been trying to get a hold of you to let you know...I’m on my way to grab some snacks, do you want anything specific?”

At the mention of her cousin, Rosaline glanced down at her phone and winced.  “Must not have even noticed the notifications while I was on the phone.  I’ll give Jules a call.”  She turned her attention to Ben, and the drawn look in her eyes left him feeling guilty.  “Thanks, but I’ve got a ton of studying to do and I’m not feeling great, so I’m going to have to pass for tonight.”

He watched her silently for a moment.  “Anything I can bring you from the store before I head home?” he murmured.  Rosaline raised a surprised brow at him, and for a second the smile was sincere.  It was the most he could do...but at least for a moment he distracted her from her stress.

“No...but thank you, Benvolio.”

“Feel better, Capulet.  Tell Jules to text me if she wants candy or something.”  She nodded silently, and he pushed himself to his feet with a wink.  Ben didn’t look back as he walked away, and tried to ignore how her breath seemed to shudder when she sighed.

Hey Rome, found Rosaline and let her know.  She said she’s not feeling well so she’ll catch up next time.

Yeah she just told Jules she’s got a migraine...she’s kinda prone to them.

As prone to them as her aunt is prone to yelling at her, maybe…

That sucks.  I’m on my way to the store.  Send me a list of what we need.

Throughout the rest of the night, he found his thoughts drifting back to Rosaline, the bits of conversation he’d heard, and her susceptibility to migraines.  It wasn’t until Mercutio flopped across his lap, chiding him for being distracted, that he forced himself to file those thoughts away for a later time...like when the issue might be any of his business to worry about, he thought to himself with a sigh.

[enchi-elm]

Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: Still Star-Crossed (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Lady Giuliana Capulet, Lady Tessa Montague, Benvolio Montague, Romeo Montague, Mercutio Additional Tags: Grief/Mourning, Scheming, Humour, Behind the Scenes, canon for the most part, Like it's not a stretch to allow what I'm including to be canon, Bro-ship Summary:

How does Lady Capulet grieve and Lady Montague scheme? What memories does Benvolio have of his friends? What else have Isabella and Escalus argued about? And Rosaline?

These short glimpses hope to fill out and colour in some of the characters and in-between moments in our lovely Still Star-Crossed universe.

[Ongoing work]

Dedicated to the authors I've admired from afar for weeks.

Chapter 2 is up! Benvolio, Mercutio and Romeo banter in the streets.

Extra: my own Unscene moment

*unknowingly writes two lines of iambic tetrameter*

*is pretty impressed with self, continues:*

Romeo rises to the bait with nary a pause, "

*stares at screen for fifteen minutes without typing a word*

[iris-candice-clemons-west]

Wait, so Damiano killed Benvolio’s Dad and had the NERVE to look at him like a stain on his favorite shirt?

[reginaking]

I was suspicious of Paris from day 1 and yet I SHIP HIM AND LIVIA SO HARD! She doesn't deserve this :( So is the reason he's doing all this with Lady Capulet to get revenge for Juliet? How does seducing Livia help?

Paris can choke, as soon as he tried to get with Livia in 103, I was suspicious. He was rushing. I had a feeling his family may have been involved in trying to destroy Verona, but now that I know he’s in league with Giuliana, and that she was hiding him because he’s the villain, I think his house is making a play for Verona and Giuliana was making moves to protect her and Juliet, and gain more power. Paris framing Benvolio may be payback for Juliet, but I think it’s about destroying the Capulets/Montagues and subsequently Verona. I’m speculating though because I haven’t read the books.

[constancwu]

still star crossed & ayto s5

Still Star Crossed:

The first character I first fell in love with: PRINCESS ISABELLA (…even before the show premiered because I knew she would be a boss) 

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: BENVOLIO   

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: Prince Escalus (….I mean I don’t hate him but I just don’t respect him at all even though I understand he is in a complicated position)   

The character I love that everyone else hates: Lady Giuliana Capulet (I don’t love her because she’s horrid to Rosaline and should be slapped but I don’t hate her just because I’m curious as to what she’s planning and also because I feel for her mourning) or Count Paris? I feel like a lot of people in the fandom don’t particularly like him but I find what they could potentially do with his character fascinating.      

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: n/a (I mean there have only been two episodes…) 

The character I would totally smooch: Benvolio Montague or Romeo Montague   

The character I’d want to be like: Princess Isabella    

The character I’d slap: Lord Damiano Montague, Lady Giuliana Capulet and Lord Silvestro Capulet  

A pairing that I love: Rosaline Capulet and Benvolio Montague (….also low-key Livia Capulet and Count Paris and it’s only low-key because we’ve had very few scenes)

A pairing that I despise: ummmm I don’t despise them I just don’t like how Escalus has treated Rosaline so I guess I’m not on the Rosaline Capulet and Prince Escalus pairing

AYTO (Season 5)

The first character I first fell in love with: Osvaldo was so sweet

The character I never expected to love as much as I do now: N/A I HATE THEM ALL! Actually, Cas still seems pretty chill.  

The character everyone else loves that I don’t: UMMM I THINK EVERYONE WHO WATCHES AYTO HATES THIS CAST JUST LIKE ME!  

The character I love that everyone else hates: At one point this was Tyler….now not so much. BOY BYE!   

The character I used to love but don’t any longer: TYLER 

The character I would totally smooch: None of them…I don’t want an STD 

The character I’d want to be like: None of them, they’re all idiots.  

The character I’d slap: 90% of the cast 

A pairing that I love: HAHAHAHAHAHA NONE…actually I like Mike and Cas now that they’ve gotten together after the show. 

A pairing that I despise: TOO MANY TO LIST. ALSO BECAUSE AYTO IS A ROTATION OF SHIPS……ugh  

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