#he is NOT 'i am rich and better than u' charming. he is 'i learned how to talk fancy for my degree and i have empathy' charming | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

longitudinalwaveme · 4 years ago

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Poor Little Rich Boy

Hartley Rathaway isn't running away from home. (Probably.) Nor has he been kidnapped by the Trickster (not that Kid Flash believes that). What he is doing is celebrating the craziest 16th birthday ever.

Trigger warning for emotional/verbal abuse.

He checked himself, double-checked himself. His hair was perfectly coiffed, his suit was perfectly buttoned and perfectly neat, and he was perfectly prepared, mentally, for the show he was about to put on. However, it never hurt to be careful, so he turned to the butler who was to escort him outside and asked,

“How do I look, Edward?”

“Very good, Master Hartley. The Master and Missus should be pleased.” Thus assured, Hartley nodded, and the butler led him into the grand hall and to his parents. Predictably, both of them were impeccably dressed as well, and his mother was clinging to his father in an affectionate manner. For all the world, they looked like a loving couple, but Hartley knew better. He had heard the vicious rumors the maids and footmen told about his father’s rendezvous (with his hearing, it was impossible not to overhear), and he had certainly heard the squabbles the two of them had behind closed doors when they thought no one could hear-and maybe no one could-no one but him. If they hadn’t been in love with each others’ money, if they hadn’t been afraid that a divorce would lower their reputation amongst their business partners, they would have divorced long ago.

“I trust that you are prepared to make a good showing for our guests and the press,” his father said. It was definitely a statement, not a question.

“Of course, sir,” Hartley replied. There was nothing else to say. With that, he and his parents left their house and walked into their veranda, where Hartley was immediately blinded by flashing lights. This had happened enough times that he was fairly used to it, so instead he simply put on his happiest smile and acted like he was thrilled to be at this soiree. After about two minutes, his father smiled at him (for the benefit of the cameras).

“Happy sixteenth birthday, son,” he said warmly.

“Thank you, father. This soiree is better than I could have imagined,” Hartley replied politely. He hated his parents’ soirees, but it would never do to let the public know. His mother leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek.

“I can’t believe my little boy is already sixteen,” she said, in her best “sad parent” voice. Hartley forced a laugh.

“I suppose it had to happen eventually,” he replied.

“That it did, and your mother and I were prepared for it. Because you are sixteen now, we decided to purchase you your own private plane,” his father said. This time, Hartley didn’t have to feign his excitement (or his surprise).

“Really? Thank you!” he exclaimed. Did this mean that they were finally going to let him out of the house on his own?

“You are quite welcome, son,” his father replied. Then he pulled Hartley into a hug and whispered,

“If you expect to keep possession of the plane, I expect you to tell me every time you leave the house with it, where you are going, when you are returning, and who you are planning to meet with. Furthermore, you must have at least four chaperones with you no matter where you go, and I must know who they are before you leave. If you fail to do this, I will take the plane back, and you will be subject to an 8:30 PM curfew.” The two broke apart, and Hartley’s excitement vanished. There went his hope of finally being able to learn about the world outside of his parents’ social circle. However, he couldn’t reveal his disappointment, so he forced a smile back on his face and said,

“Thank you again, mother and father. You’re terrific.” After three more minutes of smiling and saying generically excited things for the cameras, Hartley finally got a reprieve, in the form of a loud splash. Bruce Wayne, Gotham City’s most eligible bachelor (and most notorious playboy), had apparently had one too many glasses of Domaine de la Romanee-Conti Grand Cru and had fallen into the fountain in a rather spectacular fashion, thereby attracting the attention of all the cameras and allowing Hartley to stop smiling and pretending to be happy.

“Am I excused yet, sir?” he asked his father.

“No, you are not. Your birthday is a big opportunity for us to network, and you need to be here for us to do so. This is for your future, son,” his father replied.

“You mean it’s for your wallet,” Hartley muttered.

“What was that, son?”

“Nothing,” Hartley said quickly. The last thing he wanted was to make his father angry at him. His father frowned.

“See that it stays that way.” Hartley started to give his father an assurance that it would when a loud burst of laughter came from the press as Bruce Wayne attempted to get out of the fountain, only to slip and fall back into the water. Hartley would have been mortified if he had been in that situation, but Bruce Wayne simply stood back up a second time and got out of the fountain, laughing and waving at the cameras.

“That Wayne is so crass,” his mother sniffed disapprovingly.

“Well, what can you expect? He’s new money. They’re all like that,” his father replied. However, their conversation about the flaws of new money people was cut short when the reporters, who were no longer being distracted by the entertainment provided by Bruce Wayne, turned their cameras back to them. Hartley and his parents immediately turned their smiles back on for the cameras, and led him towards another family, whom Hartley recognized as Mr., Mrs., and Kathryn Kendell, the wealthy owners of a fast food chain (Hartley couldn’t remember which one).

“Hartley, now that you’re getting close to adulthood, your father and I have decided, along with Mr. and Mrs. Kendell, that you and Kathryn should start dating.” Hartley was so shocked (and mildly terrified) that he almost dropped his act. Although his father had not said it, he knew that “dating” meant that his parents were planning for him to marry Kathryn once he finished college-and Kathryn was the most shallow, vain, and spoiled girl in his parents’ entire social circle. Why had they picked her? (If he had been braver, he might have wondered why he didn’t get a say, but he had always known that his parents were going to decide who he married, just as his grandparents had decided that his parents were going to marry each other. It was just how things were done.) However, he couldn’t say anything in front of the TV cameras, so instead he just smiled and tried to act like he was excited about the prospect of dating the girl. After a few minutes of small talk between him, Kathryn, and their parents, the news cameras finally lost interest in them and went off to film more of Bruce Wayne, who had evidently brought two dates to the soiree and was now trying to prevent a fight between them. As soon as the cameras were off, Hartley frowned and said,

“Sir, I….I’m not sure I’m ready for a serious relationship.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Hartley. Your mother and I were dating by the time we were your age. You will be fine. And besides, we and the Kendells both stand to benefit from a marriage between you and their charming daughter, so you need to cooperate with our plans,” his father said. Hartley winced. He really didn’t want to date (let alone marry!) Kathryn Kendell.

“But sir….I don’t think that Kathryn and I are compatible,” Hartley replied.

“You’re too young to know whether you’re compatible with her or not, son. That’s why we arranged this relationship,” his mother said.

“What does Kathryn think about it?” Hartley asked. He was almost afraid to know the answer, but maybe she felt the same way about him as he did about her.

“I love the idea. Why do you think I had Daddy set this up with your parents in the first place? You’re adorable, and you’ve got so much money. I’ve had a crush on you for a really long time,” Kathryn said. Hartley had to resist the urge to groan. Why had she had to choose him?

“See, Hartley? This will work out perfectly,” his mother said, and his father whispered,

“Besides, we’re lucky that we were able to arrange a marriage for you with anyone, given your….defect.” Hartley frowned, knowing that his father was talking about the fact that he was almost stone deaf without his highly advanced hearing aids, and wished, not for the first time, that his parents would stop blaming him for something so utterly out of his control.

“Rachel, Osgood, why don’t we leave our two lovebirds alone together? No romance can bloom with us old-timers around,” Mr. Kendell said.

“If you think that it will help, of course,” his mother said. With that, his parents and the Kendells walked to another part of the veranda, and he was left with Kathryn. As soon as his parents were no longer watching him, he said,

“I think I see a member of the Fall Out Boys,” and bolted into the gardens as soon as she looked away, where, much to his surprise, he found Bruce Wayne.

“Hello, Hartley. What are you doing here?” the man asked, sounding remarkably sober for a man who was so drunk that he had tripped into a fountain.

“Hello, Mr. Wayne. I’m...well….I’m trying to avoid the girlfriend my parents picked out for me. What are you doing here?”

“Hiding from my girlfriends. I managed to get them to stop hating each other, but now they both hate me, and, well, I thought it would be wise to hide for a bit until they cool off. Did your parents really choose a girlfriend for you?”

“Yes. I know it is traditional, but…..I do wish they had chosen someone other than Kathryn Kendell. We’re so very different, and I don’t think we’d be happy together,” Hartley replied.

“Is that your polite way of saying that she’s a selfish brat?” Bruce Wayne asked. Hartley almost laughed, but stopped himself. He had to try to think well of the girl who would probably be his wife (whether he liked it or not).

“It wouldn’t hurt her to learn a few more manners,” he admitted. Bruce laughed.

“No wonder your parents like her. They’re just as stuck up, arrogant, and pretentious as she is-no offense,” he said. Maybe he was drunk after all…...although Hartley had to admit Bruce had a point about his parents’ personalities.

“None taken. You did a nice dive earlier,” Hartley said. Bruce Wayne laughed.

“Thanks. Happy birthday, kid,” he replied. Hartley smiled.

“Thank you.” However, before their conversation could continue, Hartley’s very angry parents stormed into the garden.

“Hartley Robert Rathaway, you are grounded! Abandoning Kathryn like that was unspeakably rude and inappropriate, and you hurt her feelings badly. We’re just lucky her parents didn’t decide to leave. You are going to your room, young man, and you are staying there until I say otherwise,” his father said. Hartley sighed, knowing from experience what this meant. His father clapped his hands, and one of the security guards arrived and led him off towards his room.

“If you ever need someone to talk to at the next soiree, find me, Hartley!” Bruce Wayne yelled. Hartley appreciated the sentiment, but he was dragged out of the man’s hearing range before he could tell him so. About three minutes later, the security guard pushed him into his room and locked him inside. Hartley kicked the door in frustration, but he knew that he was trapped. His room was a good sixty feet off the ground, so he couldn’t leave via the window, and his door was made of solid cypress wood. He was going to be staying here until his father let him out, which, if the pattern established the last time held, would be about three days from now. After about an hour of fuming, he pulled out his flute and started to play, with his frustration adding strength to the song. He spent the rest of his birthday alternately seething, trying not to cry, and playing his instruments, all while trapped in his room. His father did have one of the servants bring him dinner, but the person who brought it to him did not speak to him, and neither did the guard by the door. After eating, he fell asleep at nine, utterly exhausted by the emotions of the day. He was woken at about three AM by a loud crashing sound. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said that someone was in his room. He looked around in confusion, but was unable to make out anything in the dark, so he got out of his bed and started fumbling around to see what had made the noise-only to see that his window was open. Hartley knew he hadn’t opened it, so how had it been opened? His room was several stories off the ground and, even if someone had managed to get a tall enough ladder, the grounds of his estate were literally crawling with guards, most of whom were as well trained-or better trained-than police officers. There was no way anyone could have gotten to his window in order to open it-and yet, it was wide open. While he was staring at the window in confusion, he felt someone-it was definitely a person-bump into him. He was about to scream when the person exclaimed,

“Darn! Darn, darn, double darn! Why did I have to pick a bedroom? Of all the rotten luck! I went through all this work to pull off this trick, and then I give myself away by walking into a bedroom!” The person’s voice was high and squeaky, and Hartley started to wonder if he was dreaming or going crazy. There was no way that a squeaky-voiced person, roughly his size, had managed to get into his room when it was sixty feet off the ground. It had to be a dream.

“W-who are you?” Hartley asked, trying to sound less afraid than he was. The other person seemed to turn on a flashlight, because suddenly Hartley could see that the intruder was a boy about his age, with blonde hair, blue eyes, a garish mess of a leotard, an odd-looking mask, a huge blue cape, and powder-blue shoes. In short, he was the least threatening home invader ever.

“Leaving,” the kid replied.

“Wait! H-how did you get in here? The estate is crawling with guards, and my room is sixty feet off the ground!” Hartley demanded. The kid stopped in his tracks and actually smiled slightly.

“I invented a pair of shoes that let me walk on air,” he said proudly. Hartley looked at him skeptically. There was no way that anyone with such a terrible fashion sense had invented technology that could revolutionize the globe-was there?

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he said. The other boy clicked his heels together, and suddenly he was levitating a good six feet off the ground. Hartley gasped.

“See? Airwalkers,” the boy said proudly. Hartley just nodded, dumbfounded. This kid had invented shoes that defied gravity, and he was using them to break and enter?

“A-are you going to hurt me?” he asked quietly. The boy didn’t look (or sound) dangerous, but you never knew. Maybe he was older than he looked and was actually a serial killer or something. The other boy looked hurt by the accusation.

“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a con man, not a butcher. In fact, you weren’t even supposed to see me-I was trying to find an unoccupied room and just thought that no one was in it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. It was nice meeting you, though,” he said. He started to walk toward the window, and suddenly Hartley had an idea. It was totally insane, but it would be the perfect way to see the world that existed outside of his parents’ social circle, and to get back at his parents for micromanaging his entire life.

“Take me with you,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

“What?” the other boy asked, clearly having been taken off guard by the request.

“Take me with you. If you don’t, I will make a racket and attract the security guards,” Hartley repeated. The small, rational part of his brain was telling him that this was a terrible idea, but he ignored it. He was tired of his parents and even more tired of being a Rathaway, and he just wanted to get away from it all, to go somewhere that didn’t expect him to perform all the time.

“Okay, okay, you can come with. I hope you aren’t afraid of heights,” the intruder said. He took off one of his airwalker shoes and handed it to Hartley, who put it on. Hartley then grabbed the boy’s hand and hung on tightly to him as they started walking out the window. Before they got five feet out the window, however, Hartley looked down-and immediately wished that he hadn’t. The ground was terrifyingly far away.

“Are you sure you aren’t afraid of heights? You look a little green,” the boy asked.

“I'm fine,” Hartley lied in a timorous voice as he swallowed his vomit.

“I can always take you back if you’re too afraid to go on,” the boy said mockingly. Hartley frowned. He couldn’t admit to being scared now.

“I told you, I am fine!”

“Just making sure,” the boy replied. Ten minutes of relative silence ensued as they continued to walk. The boy, evidently used to heights, whistled merrily, while Hartley berated himself for thinking that this was a good idea and tried not to faint, vomit, or think about how far he would fall if the boy dropped him or the airwalker shoe malfunctioned.

“You know, if we’re going to be hanging out together, we should probably get to know a little about each other, don’t you think?” the boy said suddenly. Hartley nodded. Maybe talking would distract him from how far off the ground they were.

“All right. Do you want to begin, or should I?” he replied quietly.

“I will! I’m the Trickster, but since we’re friends now, you can call me James Jesse. That’s my real name. I used to be a tightrope walker and an acrobat in the circus, which-trust me-is a lot more interesting than working for snobby rich people like the Rathaways, and now I’m the best con man who ever lived and I get to fight the Flash. It’s a lot of fun,” the boy said.

“Working for the Rathaways?” Hartley asked in confusion. Had this kid-James- been one of his parents’ servants at some point in between traveling with a circus and becoming a con man?

“Yeah. Why would you have been in their mansion if you don’t work for them?” Hartley stared at him in shock. James thought that he was a servant?

“Because I am their son,” Hartley replied. This time, it was James’ turn to stare in shock.

“You’re Hartley Rathaway?” he squeaked.

“Yes,” Hartley replied.

“Are you crazy? Your parents are gonna think I kidnapped you, and they’re gonna send every cop in the country after us!”

“I….I didn’t think about that,” Hartley said weakly. James’ arrival and the subsequent craziness had made him almost forget who he was, but now the reality came crashing down around him again. He was the heir to the fourth or fifth largest fortune in the world. No one would believe that he had voluntarily decided to leave his mansion, his servants, his apparently loving parents, his fine education, and his private jet in order to spend time with a crazy-looking teenage (was he a teenager?) burglar who was also a self-proclaimed con artist. If he hadn’t just done it, even HE wouldn’t have believed it. The media (and his parents, and the police) were definitely going to think that this boy had kidnapped him. Why was he so stupid?

“Yeah, I figured that out on my own. I’m taking you home before they figure out that you’re gone,” James replied. Hartley frowned. True, he didn’t want to be the reason that James was arrested for kidnapping, but he didn’t want to go back to being a prisoner in his own home, either. This was probably his only chance to live even a few days as anything but his parents’ puppet, and he didn’t want to give that chance up.

“I’m not going to let you take me back home. If you want to drop me off somewhere and go off on your own so that you don’t get accused of kidnapping, that’s fine, but I am not going back home until my parents drag me back there,” he said.

“Give me a break, Richie Rich. You live in a mansion, your family employs a hundred servants, you’ve had the best education money can buy, you’ve been to at least ten different countries, and your parents just got you a plane for your sixteenth birthday. Your life can’t be that bad,” James scoffed. Hartley laughed weakly.

“Oh, really? My parents are obsessed with molding me into the “perfect heir”-or at least, as close as they can get given the fact that I’m deaf, which, by the way, they have made clear is a sign that I am defective. My father has already chosen my college, my major, my minor, my roommate, the jobs that I will get after college, and my wife. You heard about one of his birthday gifts to me. The other was my betrothal in all but name to a spoiled, selfish girl that I honestly cannot stand. Neither he nor my mother asked my opinion about any of this, although, considering the fact that they talk to me about once a month, maybe that isn’t surprising. I’ve spent my entire life being told what to wear, what to do, where to go, and what to think by them, and I am tired of it-all of it! I’m tired of never being able to leave my room without a chaperone, I’m tired of having all my decisions made for me, and I’m really, really tired of being a Rathaway. Do you still think my life can’t be that bad? Trust me, you have no idea how bad it is!”

“You have your own plane, your own golf course, your own tennis courts, two Olympic-sized pools, and a professional chef, and you’re going to inherit 15 billion dollars. Forgive me if I’m less than convinced that your life is bad,” James replied.

“I spent most of my birthday locked in my room by my own father! If you hadn’t broken in, I probably would have been in there for three days!” James looked at him in surprise.

“Your dad locked you in your room? What did you do, attack someone?”

“No. I lied to the girl that they have decided I will marry to get away from her. Father was most displeased. He said that I had hurt her feelings and jeopardized their relationship with her parents, and so he had me locked in my room. It is his usual method for punishing my, ah, “unseemly displays” of rudeness,” Hartley replied.

“He’s done it more than once?” James sounded a tad appalled, though Hartley wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though his father was hitting him or anything.

“Yes. Usually it lasts about three days, although there was one time that it lasted for a full week, when I was 14 and told him that I didn’t want to go to his old college,” Hartley replied. He was aware that his parents would be furious if they knew that he was revealing so many secrets to a complete stranger, but he was so frustrated with them that he didn’t care.

“Does he feed you?” James asked.

“Of course he feeds me. He wouldn’t want his only heir to starve,” Hartley replied.

“Okay, okay, I give. Your life sounds pretty bad,” James admitted. Hartley began to reiterate his refusal to return home when he was interrupted by a yawn.

“You know, why don’t we discuss this more tomorrow-er, later today? I don’t want you to fall asleep while we’re a hundred feet off the ground, and we’re pretty close to one of my hideouts, anyway,” James said. Hartley looked at him oddly.

“What happened to (here a large yawn interrupted him) not wanting my parents to think I kidnapped you?” James shrugged.

“Well, if even half of what you told me is true, you need a friend, and besides, you’re way safer with me than you would be on your own. I’d rather be accused of kidnapping than murder. Oh, and you should probably prepare for descent. My hideout’s right in that clearing,” he replied. Ten minutes later, he and Hartley were back on solid ground, much to Hartley’s relief. James then led him to what appeared to be a trailer home painted in fluorescent green and pepto-bismol pink.

“I was under the impression that hideouts were supposed to be easy to miss,” Hartley said. James smiled.

“Would you expect a supervillain to hide out in a green and pink trailer home?” Hartley had to admit that James had a point, even if he thought that his description of himself as a super villain was a tad exaggerated. James opened the door to the trailer and led Hartley inside. The walls were painted with blue and yellow stripes, and yo-yos, hula hoops, dart guns, and unicycles were strewn around the floor.

“You can sleep on my couch,” James said. He gestured at a lime-green lump in the middle of the room. Hartley didn’t particularly want to sleep on the ratty piece of furniture, but he was so tired that he collapsed on it anyway, and was dead to the world after only a few seconds. He was woken at 9:00 AM by his new companion.

“Good morning, sleepyhead. We’re on the news,” James told him.

“Gimme five more minutes,” Hartley mumbled. He had never had a more uncomfortable night, and he was not at all ready to wake up.

“Look, Richie Rich, I know you’re not used to getting up early, but if you want to avoid going back home, we’re gonna have to go. Your parents have figured out that you’re not at home, and because people know that I’m in the area, they think that I kidnapped you, just like I said they would. We’re just lucky the Flash is off with the Justice League fighting aliens right now. If he was here, you’d already be back home.” Now Hartley was wide awake, and he jumped to his feet, only for a red-and-yellow blur to appear and solidify into what looked like the Flash, if the Flash had been under five feet tall.

“You’re under arrest!” James grinned, apparently familiar with the new arrival.

“Why, if it isn’t little Baby Flash!” he exclaimed. “Baby Flash” scowled.

“That’s not my name, and you are in trouble,” he said.

“Um, who are you?” Hartley asked. Not Baby Flash smiled.

“I’m Kid Flash, and I’m here to rescue you,” he said. Hartley looked at James in confusion. He hadn’t heard of any “Kid Flash.” James grinned.

“Hartley, this is Baby Flash. He’s Flash’s sidekick, and he has all of his powers. Baby Flash, this is Hartley Rathaway. He’s rich,” he said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Hartley said, not really knowing what else to say.

“Are you okay, Mr. Rathaway? Has he hurt you?”

“Call me Hartley. Mr. Rathaway is my father,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash smiled.

“All right. Hartley, then. It sounds like you’re okay, so let’s get you home,” he said, before Hartley could continue.

“Wait!” Hartley exclaimed. The boy looked at him in surprise.

“What’s the matter? Don’t you want to get home?” he asked.

“No, I don’t. I wasn’t kidnapped-I ran away,” Hartley replied quietly. He knew that the boy superhero probably wouldn’t believe him, but he had to at least try to convince him that he hadn’t been taken from his house against his will. Sure enough, Kid Flash frowned and glared at James.

“Undo your mind control, Trickster-now!” he demanded. It would have been a lot more persuasive, Hartley thought, if it hadn’t come from a boy who was nearly two heads shorter than both of them. How old was Kid Flash, anyway?

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re angry,” James said.

“I said undo the mind control! And I am not cute!” Hartley sighed.

“Kid Flash, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I am not under mind control. I ran away because I am tired of being a Rathaway, and this is my only chance to experience some freedom,” he insisted. Kid Flash looked at him skeptically, and then glared at James again.

“Trickster, I’m not kidding. Undo the mind control, or else,” he said firmly. James laughed.

“First of all, that’s the least intimidating threat ever. Second, I’m not mind controlling him. Mind controlling is Mirror Master’s thing, not mine. And even if I could mind control people, which, by the way, I can’t, how stupid would I have to be to mind control one of the most famous billionaires on the planet? Even if that WASN’T totally unoriginal, it would be an awful trick. Nobody would ever believe that Hartley Rathaway had voluntarily left his mansion to pal around with me. Heck, I barely believe it, and it’s true! Face it, kid, your own assumption that I hypnotized him makes it clear that I didn’t do anything of the sort. I’m an artist, not a hack,” he said.

“Then why is he here?” Kid Flash asked.

“He just told you: he’s tired of his life,” James replied cheerfully.

“How could anyone get tired of getting to travel the globe and live in a mansion?”

“I’m not tired of that, exactly. I’m tired of my parents controlling every aspect of my life. I just spent the majority of my sixteenth birthday locked in my room because I felt uncomfortable about their betrothing me to a spoiled, selfish brat, and I want to get away from them for awhile. I know that I cannot stay away forever, but I would very much appreciate it if you would let me stay away for a few days,” Hartley replied. To his surprise, Kid Flash looked sympathetic.

“Your parents sound about as much fun as mine. My parents yell at me all the time, too. They say I’m naive and complain about how I always have my head in the clouds and say that I need to grow up and face reality. My dad even threatened to send me to military school once. If I didn’t have Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris, I don’t know what I’d do. Go crazy, probably. I mean, it wouldn’t be so bad if they just yelled at me, but they yell at each other, too. I kind of thought that when they got divorced, the fighting would stop, but instead they just fight over the phone and try to use me as a go-between to deliver nasty messages. I never actually give them, but I still have to hear them all. Do your parents fight?”

“Not often,” James replied. Hartley rolled his eyes.

“I wasn’t asking you,” Kid Flash said, sounding annoyed. James just laughed.

“You’re so fun to mess with, Baby Flash.” Kid Flash glared at him and turned back to Hartley.

“Well?” he asked. Hartley smiled weakly.

“They do not fight in public the way your parents do; that would be detrimental to their public image. Nor do they fight in front of me. However, my hearing is abnormally sharp, so I have heard them fighting behind closed doors, and as such, I know that they are not so fond of each other as they pretend to be. It is quite disconcerting,” Hartley admitted.

“Well, I totally get why you ran away, but I also think that you didn’t think out your plan all that well. The streets are really dangerous for teenagers, and you’ve probably never been outside your estate without chaperones and guards. You don’t know the first thing about defending yourself,” Kid Flash said. Hartley frowned. He knew that the boy had a very good point, but he also knew that he wasn’t going to voluntarily give up his freedom, which would only last for a few days in any case. It wasn’t as though he was planning to leave his home and his parents for good. He just wanted to prove that he was capable of making his own decisions and controlling at least some parts of his own life; and to experience what it was like to not be a Rathaway for a while.

“You’re too cautious, Baby Flash. I’m only seventeen, and I’ve been surviving on the streets just fine. If you keep your wits about you, running away isn’t that dangerous,” James said. Kid Flash shook his head.

“Trickster, you grew up in the circus, so you’re used to traveling and taking calculated risks. Your IQ is practically in the genius range-I mean, you invented shoes that let you walk on air at 13- and you’re also armed with your stupid trick gadgets. You’re way more capable of taking care of yourself than the average teenager, if you even actually are one,” he said.

“Now, Baby Flash, if you can be a pint-sized superhero at eight, I can be a supervillain at seventeen. There’s no reason for you to assume I’m lying about my age,” James replied condescendingly. Kid Flash scowled.

“I’m twelve, not eight!” he exclaimed petulantly.

“Whatever. Eight or twelve, you’re still not even a teenager, so my point stands.” Hartley stared at the boy. He was only twelve?

“Doesn’t the Flash fight gangsters?” he asked.

“Yeah. Duh,” Kid Flash replied. (There were few things more insulting than having one’s intelligence called into question by a twelve-year-old in red pajamas.)

“Do you help him with that?”

“Of course! Why?”

“Because I am curious as to why in the world, if you are only twelve, the Flash allows you to fight heavily armed gang members. Isn’t that some form of child endangerment?”

“I have super speed, Hartley. No gangster could hit me. Besides, if Flash didn’t allow me to fight them, I’d just sneak out and do it on my own. I’m not gonna let being a kid stop me from taking down the bad guys!” Kid Flash replied. Hartley couldn’t help smiling. The boy’s enthusiasm was infectious.

“Fair enough,” he conceded.

“Okay, so now that you know why I’m a superhero, can we get back to the subject of how it’s a bad idea for you to run away from home?”

“I’m not running away from home. “Running away” implies that I am not coming back. I fully intend to return home. I just want to be able to live like a normal person for a few days before I go back to my life as the heir to the Rathaway empire for good,” Hartley replied. Kid Flash looked conflicted for a few seconds, and then he beamed.

“I want to keep you safe, and you want to be a normal kid for a day. So how about you and I, and Trickster, I guess, tour the city together? I can make sure that you don’t get attacked by someone and make sure that Trickster behaves himself, and you can do whatever it is that you want to do,” he said. Hartley frowned slightly. On the one hand, Kid Flash was cute and fairly amusing, and his idea had merit, but, on the other hand, his idea of independence definitely did not involve being chaperoned by a twelve-year-old. Before he could respond, however, James responded for him.

“Sorry, Baby Flash. You can’t come with us. I know that you wanna play with the big kids, but we’ll be staying out way past your bedtime,” he said. Kid Flash just smiled wider.

“Well, if I can’t come with you, I’ll have to take you back home and take the Trickster to jail,” he said. Hartley and James exchanged a look.

“All right, all right, you win,” James said quickly.

“Great! So where are we going?” Kid Flash asked.

“Somewhere my parents would never want me to go,” Hartley replied firmly.

“So, your kitchen?” James asked.

“No, not my kitchen,” Hartley said wearily. While it was true that his parents would probably have a fit if he went to the kitchen where the servants worked, he wanted to stay as far away from the Rathaway estate as possible.

“Your parents don’t allow you in the kitchen?” Kid Flash asked, obviously confused.

“Your parents let you in the kitchen?”

“Of course! Why wouldn’t they?” Before Hartley could answer the question, James butted in again, something which was becoming rather irritating.

“Let me explain things to you, Baby Flash. You see, Hartley’s parents are obnoxiously wealthy, so they don’t make food for themselves. Instead, they hire people to cook for them, and, being rich snobs, they would never want their precious heir to interact with their servants and possibly-horror of horrors!-start to sympathise with them. Therefore, in order to prevent him talking to them in any meaningful way, they’ve forbidden him from going there,” he said.

“James, I am perfectly capable of speaking for myself,” Hartley said.

“But I’m right, aren’t I?” Hartley sighed wearily.

“Yes, you are,” he said quietly. Maybe James’ claims of being a master con artist were less exaggerated than he had thought. Mentally speaking, the self-proclaimed supervillain was running rings around both him and Kid Flash.

“The more I hear about your parents, the more I understand why you wanted to run away. Are they really that full of themselves?” Kid Flash asked, apparently stunned.

“Yes, they are. Although, to be extremely fair to them, I really don’t know if they’re any worse than anyone else in high society. From what I’ve seen at my parents’ soirees, arrogance and a lack of basic human decency towards the hired help are endemic amongst the extremely wealthy. And I am not running away,” Hartley replied quietly.

“Endemic?” Kid Flash asked, sounding confused.

“Very common,” Hartley emended. He’d forgotten that the person to whom he was speaking was a twelve-year-old who had been denied the advantage of what his father called a classical education, which, as far as Hartley could tell, mainly meant learning how to speak and read Spanish, French, German, Italian, Mandarian Chinese, Latin, and Japanese, how to travel, how to ride horses, and how to become a pretentious snob.

“Oh. Yuck,” Kid Flash replied.

"We could go to Hawaii," James suggested.

"I've already been there. Um, four times," Hartley said.

"I haven't," James replied.

"Trickster, the only reason you're even getting to come along is because I want to keep an eye on you for the Flash. If Hartley doesn't want to go to Hawaii, then we're not going to Hawaii," Kid Flash said.

"Spoilsport. How about Las Vegas?"

"No way. Uncle Ba-I mean, the Flash, whose secret identity I definitely don't know- says that Las Vegas isn't appropriate for kids," Kid Flash replied.

"Besides, I've already been there, too. Twice," Hartley added.

"You two are tough customers. All right, how about England? We could ride that giant Ferris Wheel and visit Buckingham Palace and see that place where people's heads got chopped off!"

"I've-" Hartley began.

"You've already been there. I know! How many times, Richy Rich?" James snapped. Hartley flushed.

"Um, six," he mumbled.

"Be quiet and let Hartley decide, Trickster!" Kid Flash exclaimed.

"Okay, okay, I'll let Richy Rich decide for himself. You don't have to bite my head off," James replied. He fell silent, and Hartley made his decision.

"Could you maybe take me to a park?" Hartley asked.

"A park?" Kid Flash and James echoed.

"Yes. I...I want to see what it's like to be a normal kid, and from what I've seen on TV, that's what normal kids do. Besides, my parents would never let me go to a park that normal kids use, so it fulfills my desire to go somewhere that my parents don't want me to go too," Hartley replied.

"Okay. One park, coming up!" Kid Flash exclaimed, and before Hartley could even blink, he, James, and Kid Flash were standing near a playground, one that was located in, if the sign was to be trusted, "Jay Garrick Park". Hartley expected James to start complaining about going to a park rather than Las Vegas, but instead he beamed and made a beeline for the monkey bars. Kid Flash smiled, too...and was immediately swamped by small children.

"Kid Flash!"

"Can I have your autograph?"

"How fast can you really run?"

"Is the Flash here?"

"Who's your friend?"

"Is he a superhero, too?" Kid Flash's grin widened.

"Hi, kids! I'm gonna answer your questions one at a time, okay?"

"Okay!" the children chorused.

"First, yes, you can all have my autograph." Less than five seconds later, all the children were holding autographed papers.

"Second, I can run faster than the speed of light. Flash Fact: that's 299,792,458 meters per second! At least, that's what the Flash says. Third, Flash isn't here right now, but I promise that he will come here soon. Fourth, my friend's name is Hartley. He's not a superhero, but he is very nice." Hartley smiled and waved at the children.

"Hi, Hartley!"

"Hello. It's nice to meet you," Hartley replied, and he meant it. The children dispersed soon afterwards, but Hartley didn't mind. They all thought he was just an ordinary teenager. It was kind of nice to be anonymous.

"Want us to show you how to use the playground, Richy Rich?" James yelled from his seat on top of the monkey bars. Hartley nodded.

"Absolutely. If I'm going to be a normal kid for a day, I need to learn how to act like one."

Three hours later, Hartley had mastered everything on the playground except the monkey bars, learned the names, ages, favorite colors, and life stories of six kids, and been spun so fast on the tire swing that he had vomited (Kid Flash had been a little over enthusiastic). He could also honestly say that he’d never had more fun in his life.

“I’m sorry for making you vomit,” Kid Flash said. Hartley smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve always hated this suit, anyways. It itches like you wouldn’t believe,” he said. Then his stomach growled, and he blushed.

“I guess I’m a little hungry.” James, who had been doing an extremely painful-looking

exercise routine on the bar the swings were attached to, dropped to the ground, walked over to them, and grinned.

“Me, too, Richie Rich. Where do you want to go?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Hartley replied. He knew that neither James nor Kid Flash was likely to be

able to afford the restaurants he usually went to with his parents, and he had never tried fast food, so he didn’t know what might be to his tastes.

“I know a great Italian place,” James suggested. Kid Flash frowned at him.

“I don’t have enough money for a sit-down restaurant, and I don’t trust you enough to

believe that you wouldn’t spend stolen money,” he said. James just grinned wider.

“Money won’t be a problem, Baby Flash. My Zia-that is, my Aunt- Caternia owns the

restaurant, and she nevers charges famiglia,” he said.

“I do like Italian food,” Hartley added quietly. Kid Flash frowned.

“Well, if you’re sure….all right, give me the directions,” he said. James complied, and a

few seconds later, they were standing in front of a small but homey-looking restaurant, with a sign that read “Famiglia, Amici, e Buon Cibo”. They walked inside, and, sure enough, a woman rushed from what appeared to be the kitchen and gave James an enormous hug.

“Giovanni! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you! How are your cara madre and mio

fratello Alessandro?” she asked.

“Madre and Padre are doing well. Dad still talks about how much he misses his favorite

sister, but they’re glad that your business has been doing well,” James replied. His aunt beamed.

“Giovanni?” Hartley asked.

“Long story,” James replied.

“So, who are your friends, il mio piccolo piantagrane?” Hartley wasn’t surprised that

James had gotten a nickname like “little troublemaker”. He’d only known him for about 15 hours, and he’d proven capable of causing more trouble than anyone Hartley had ever met.

“The kid in the suit is named Hartley, and the boy in the red PJs is Kid Flash. Hartley, Kid

Flash, it is my pleasure to introduce you to my Zia Caternia,” James replied.

“Hi,” Kid Flash said.

“Chao,” Hartley added, glad that his lessons in Italian were proving useful for something.

“Chao, ragazzi. It’s very nice to meet you both. Are you three here for food?” James’ aunt

asked.

“Yes,” James replied. His aunt grinned again, and she led them to a table.

“This way, this way. Siediti! Rendetevi comodi-make yourselves comfortable! A waitress

will be out for you shortly,” she said. A few minutes later, a waitress promptly arrived, handed them their menus, and took their drink orders.

“I like your aunt,” Hartley said to James as he leafed through the menu.

“I like her, too. It’s too bad she has such a...a…”

“Scoundrel? Crook? Swindler? Trickster?” James suggested.

“Yeah, all of those-for a nephew,” Kid Flash said.

“Do me a favor and keep that quiet, okay? It would break her heart if she found out,”

James replied. Kid Flash nodded.

“If she’s managed not to find out by now, I’m not going to hurt her by telling her. She’s

really nice,” he said.

“Thanks, Baby Flash,” James replied, actually sounding sincere. A few minutes later, the

the waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders, Hartley deliberately going for one of the cheapest items on the menu. No matter who was paying for it, he didn’t want to cause them any financial strain. Twenty minutes of small talk, most of it revolving around teaching some Italian to Kid Flash, later, the food arrived. The three promptly dug in, and Hartley was pleased to learn that James was right-the food was delicious. As soon as they were finished eating, James’ aunt came to their table.

“Did you like the food?” she asked.

“Of course, Zia Catalina. You’re the best cook this side of Italy,” James replied, and Hartley and Kid Flash nodded their agreement. His aunt grinned.

“I’m so happy you enjoyed it! No cost for my nipote and his friends, of course,” she said.

“Are you sure, ma’am? I’ve got enough money to pay for it,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie per l’offerta, but I’m quite sure I don’t want your money, piccolo. Making good

food for my famiglia and our friends is reward enough for me,” James’ aunt replied.

“Thanks, Zia Catalina.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Kid Flash said.

“Grazie, signora,” Hartley added.

“Prego. Addio, ragazzi. Stay safe!”

“Bye, Zia Catalina!” James exclaimed. He gave his aunt one last hug, and then he, Hartley,

and Kid Flash left the restaurant...only for them to be approached by two grown men as soon as they were out of sight of the building. Kid Flash scowled, and James looked very annoyed. Hartley, for his part, felt more than a little nervous. Who were these men? One looked like he could be a movie star, with thick, wavy brown hair and broad shoulders, while the other, although tall, was also stocky and homely, and was wearing a strange set of blue sunglasses on his head.

“Hey, Trickster. Where’ve you been?” Movie Star asked casually. Hartley noticed that he

was holding a cigarette in one of his hands.

“Oh, you know...playing with toys, plotting new tricks, giving my airwalkers a good

workout...the usual,” James replied, equally casually. Movie Star pulled a lighter out of his pants pocket, lit up his cigarette, put it to his lips, and then blew out a puff of smoke.

“And what is Kid Flash doing with you, exactly?” This question, a much more abrasive

one, came from Blue Sunglasses.

“Knock, knock,” James replied. Blue Sunglasses swore, and Hartley and Kid Flash both

winced. Movie Star blew another puff of smoke.

“This ain’t the time for your stupid antics, Trickster!”

“Knock, knock!” James repeated.

“Fine. Who’s. There,” Blue Sunglasses replied flatly.

“Nonya,” James said.

“Nonya who?” Blue Sunglasses asked, clearly very irritated.

“Nonya business!” James exclaimed. Then he cracked up laughing. Blue Sunglasses glared

at him, and Hartley started backing away. This guy seemed like someone no one should want to cross; similar to his father, but with worse clothes.

“Easy, Len. No need to blow this out of proportion. Trickster does weird stuff all the time.

Him running around the city with Kid Flash for no reason is probably the least weird thing he’s done since we’ve met him,” Movie Star said calmly. Blue Sunglasses, apparently named “Len”, growled.

“It’s not the “weird” part that bothers me, Scudder. It’s the part where he’s runnin’ around

with the sidekick of our enemy! You think the Flash don’t keep track of where his sidekick is?” he exclaimed. Hartley turned to James and Kid Flash.

“Who are these two?” James sighed, and Kid Flash frowned.

“Len Snart and Sam Scudder. They're the biggest killjoys I know,” James replied.

“And they’re also Captain Cold and the Mirror Master!”

“You actually are a supervillain?” Hartley asked James. True, James was clearly far too

smart for anyone else’s good, and he had all of the fashion sense of a clown, but the fact that he was apparently on a first-name basis with two men as infamous as Captain Cold and the Mirror Master was the first definitive evidence Hartley had that James hadn’t been exaggerating his own notoriety.

“Yeah. Baby Flash and I both already told you that, Richie Rich,” James replied.

“I thought you were exaggerating.”

“Nope!”

“Honestly, I’m less curious as to why Trickster is hanging out with Kid Flash and more

curious as to who the third kid is,” Movie Star, who was apparently the Mirror Master, said.

“You’ve got a point, Scudder. That kid definitely ain’t from around here,” Captain Cold

replied. The Mirror Master blew another puff of smoke.

“What’s your name, kid?” he asked.

“H-Hartley.” Hartley hated to admit it, but he kind of wanted to go home now. Captain

Cold snorted.

“Hartley? What kinda name is “Hartley”?” he asked.

“I was named after my grandfather...because my father hates me. At least, that’s the only

explanation I can think of for why he gave me such an awful name,” Hartley replied. Captain Cold actually smiled (although it kind of looked like a smirk).

“I can sympathize, kid. I got stuck with the handle “Leonard Snart”, so I get how much it

sucks to have a cruddy name,” he said. At this point, Captain Cold and the Mirror Master were joined by a third man. This one was tall and lanky, with a mop of black hair, and looked as though he might be of Hispanic descent. He was also wearing a jacket over top of a green t-shirt. Kid Flash tensed up further, prompting Hartley to do the same. If Kid Flash recognized him, then the man was probably not good news.

“Why is the Trickster hanging out with Kid Flash?” the man asked. His voice was nasally

and a tad high-pitched for a fully-grown man.

“It’s the Trickster. Why does he do anything?” the Mirror Master replied.

“Point taken. But I don’t like having Kid Flash around. He’s a superhero magnet.” The man pulled a cigarette out of his jacket pocket.

“Look guys, I’ve got things under control. As long as Hartley here is with me, Kid Flash isn’t gonna be calling in any other superheroes,” James said.

“How do you know?” Captain Cold barked.

“A magician never reveals his secrets, Captain. Let’s just say that for once we have a common interest,” James replied. At this, the lanky man seemed to relax.

“You got a light, Sam?” he asked.

“Sure,” the Mirror Master replied. He tossed his lighter to the lanky man, who promptly lit his cigarette and started smoking. Hartley coughed. He hated cigarette smoke. Although it was generally frowned upon by his parents’ friends, there were still a few older men who were powerful enough to get away with smoking at gatherings, and he had never enjoyed having to talk to them for precisely this reason.

“Who’s this?” he asked, pointing at the lanky man.

“Mark Mardon,” James replied.

“The Weather Wizard,” Kid Flash added. Hartley sighed. Of course. Another supervillain. That being said, if he survived this, he would have definite proof that he could handle himself without supervision, so maybe there was a silver lining to the situation.

“Impressed? You should be,” the Weather Wizard said. James just shook his head and smiled.

“Mark acts like he’s hot stuff, but he’s not nearly as cool as he thinks he is,” he whispered to Hartley. Hartley wasn’t sure exactly how to react to that.

“Can you actually create tornadoes?” The newspapers claimed that the Weather Wizard was capable of doing something like that, but Hartley wasn’t sure how much of that claim was based in fact and how much was exaggeration for the sake of selling papers.

“Of course. You wanna see?” the Weather Wizard replied.

“NO!” Kid Flash and Captain Cold exclaimed in unison.

“Fine. I’ll just make a rain cloud instead,” the Weather Wizard said. He pulled out what appeared to be a long metal rod, waved it, and, astonishingly, it immediately started to rain in spite of the fact that the sky had been completely blue before he’d waved the wand. He then waved the wand again, and the rain immediately stopped.

“Neat trick Mardon has, huh?” Mirror Master asked.

“Quite,” Hartley replied, still mildly stunned by what he’d just witnessed.

“You should see what I can do with my mirror tech some time.”

“Well, it’s been nice talking to you guys, but me, Baby Flash, and Richie Rich-” James began.

“Wait a minute. You said your name was Hartley. You wouldn’t happen to be Hartley Rathaway, would you?” Captain Cold asked. James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all froze nervously. The last thing Hartley wanted was for three adult supervillains to know that he was the heir to the most successful publishing company in the world, but he didn’t know how else James could explain the nickname he’d given to him. Before Hartley could react, Captain Cold pulled out his cold gun and froze Kid Flash to the ground.

“Well, well, well. I ain’t got a clue how you managed it, Trickster, but you managed to find the son of the only billionaire in Central City. What’s he doing away from home?” Cold asked.

“I...I ran away. Kind of,” Hartley replied.

“You ran away from a mansion? What kind of moron runs away from a mansion?”

“I wasn’t running away from the mansion. I was running away from my parents. They control everything about my life, and I’m sick of not being able to make my own choices,” Hartley replied.

“They also lock him in his room when he disagrees with the choices they make for him. They may be richer than Croesus, but they don’t sound like much fun,” James added.

“In that case, maybe he can help us out. If we pretend we kidnapped him, I bet his folks would pony up a lot of money to get him back,” the Weather Wizard said.

“And it would bring the Flash and the police down on our heads. No go,” Captain Cold replied. Hartley felt relieved. The last thing he wanted was to be sort-of kidnapped.

“Besides, I don’t want to go back home yet,” Hartley added, hoping that either James or Kid Flash would be able to come up with a way to enable them to escape this situation.

“Cold’s right, Mardon. Kidnapping’s too risky,” Mirror Master said.

“Are you guys crazy? The kid’s a gold mine! Isn’t that worth a little risk?” the Weather Wizard asked.

“‘The kid’ can hear you, and has no particular desire to be used as a tool in a money-making scheme. As much as I’d love to see my parents lose some money, I’m not going to be returned to their control just so you can make a profit...especially since it would put James in danger of getting in trouble,” Hartley said, sounding braver than he felt.

“Besides, I took Hartley out to give him some fun, not to have you use him in a kidnapping scheme, Marky-Mark,” James added.

“No kidnapping, Mark. That’s final,” Captain Cold barked.

“Okay, okay. It was just a suggestion,” the Weather Wizard muttered.

“See you around, James,” the Mirror Master said. With that, he, the Weather Wizard, and Captain Cold walked off, and James, Hartley, and Kid Flash all breathed a sigh of relief. Hartley never wanted to meet James’ friends again.

After the three supervillains walked away, James smiled sheepishly as Kid Flash broke the ice that Captain Cold had encased his legs in .

“Well, that was interesting,” he said.

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it,” Hartley replied, still stunned by the fact that he’d met three of the most infamous criminals in Central City.

“Sorry about those killjoys showing up. If I’d known my coworkers were around here, I would’ve suggested someplace else for lunch. I didn’t want them messing around with my fun any more than you and Baby Flash wanted to meet them,” James said. Kid Flash frowned.

“How can you be so calm about this? Your ‘coworkers’ could’ve put Hartley in danger!” he exclaimed. James laughed.

“Richie Rich? In danger? From those stick-in-the-muds? You’ve gotta be kidding, Baby Flash! Sam and Len would never hurt a kid!” he exclaimed.

“The Weather Wizard wanted to kidnap him!”

“No, he didn’t. He just wanted to pretend he had to get money from his parents. That’s totally different. You don’t think I’d work with someone who’d hurt kids, do you?”

“Maybe not deliberately-but Captain Cold? Weather Wizard? The Mirror Master? Those guys are bad news, Trickster. If they thought they could get money from hurting a kid without getting caught, they might do it,” Kid Flash said.

“Look, Baby Flash. I’m an excellent con artist-and that means I’m also an expert at reading people. If those guys were the type to hurt kids, I’d know. They aren’t dangerous-at least, no more dangerous than I am,” James insisted.

“In speaking of “kids”, do your...friends...know that you’re a kid?” Hartley asked.

“As far as Len’s concerned, I’m 19. The first time we worked together, he said that he thought I looked really young, and that he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t working with a kid. So I lied and said that I was an adult to make sure that he didn’t use it as an excuse to chase me off and take all the loot for himself. The other guys...I dunno. I assume they think I’m an adult, but I don’t really know. Either way, I’m not about to tell them otherwise,” James replied.

“Wait… you really are 17?”” Kid Flash asked.

“Yes. Why?” James asked.

“Because your records say you’re 19. It’s why you went to jail and not to juvie when the Flash arrested you last year,” Kid Flash replied. James looked puzzled for a moment, and then smiled.

“Oh, that! I know why that happened. It’s a funny story, really-fitting of the Trickster, if I do say so myself. You see, because I grew up in a circus, my family moved around a lot, and I was born on the road. My parents called the records office to get my birth certificate, and we didn’t realize until years later that somebody had printed the month and the year wrong and had me down as being born two years and four months before I actually was. Since I was being homeschooled anyway, there wasn’t a big impetus for us to change it, so I guess we must’ve just never actually gotten around to getting it fixed.” James explained.

“You didn’t think it was strange that you were being tried as an adult at 16?” Kid Flash asked.

“Not really. I was calling myself a supervillain, after all. I figured they were trying me as an adult because of my airwalkers and my costume. I can’t believe it was because we forgot to fix my birth certificate. I tricked the legal system without even meaning to! That’s hilarious!” James exclaimed. Hartley stared at him in shock. If he had been arrested for something and then tried as an adult because of a mistake in his birth certificate, he would have been furious, but James seemed to find it amusing. He was never going to understand James. He was as just tricky to understand as his supervillain name implied he would be.

“This is awful! The Flash thinks you’re an adult! I’ve got to tell him about-” Kid Flash began. Suddenly, a red blur appeared in Hartley’s vision and solidified into someone Hartley had never expected to meet in person: the Flash himself!

“From what I’ve heard, there’s a lot you need to tell me about, Kid Flash. Let’s start with why you haven’t returned Hartley Rathaway to his parents yet. They’re worried sick about him.”

“Flash, I-” Kid Flash began.

“Aww, don’t blame Baby Flash. It wasn’t his fault,” James interrupted. Flash’s frown deepened.

“Trickster! Kidnapping is bad enough already, but if you’ve added brainwashing on top of it-” he said angrily. James just laughed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! All I said that it wasn’t Baby Flash’s fault. I never said it was mine.” “Trickster, you’re already in a serious amount of trouble. If you don’t want things to get worse, I would advise you to stop playing games.”

“Wait! Mr. Flash, it isn’t James’ fault or Kid Flash’s fault. It’s mine. James did break into my house, but it wasn’t to kidnap me. We ran into each other by accident, and I asked him to take me with him. I haven’t been kidnapped-I’m running away. Kind of,” Hartley said quickly. He didn’t want James or Kid Flash to get into trouble because of his choices.

“Running away? Why would-”

“Why would the son of the billionaire publishing magnates run away from home? Because my parents have planned out my entire life for me without ever once asking me if it’s what I want. Because they see me as defective because I was born deaf-”

“You were born deaf?” Flash and Kid Flash asked in unison.

“Yes. My parents couldn’t stand the thought of having a defective heir, so they paid billions of dollars to have me ‘fixed’...and they made sure that the news never caught wind of it. Even after they “fixed” me, though, they’ve made it clear that I’m still not good enough for them. They’ve picked my college, my major, my minor, and my future spouse without even asking me about it, and when I try to argue with them about it, my father locks me in my room and doesn’t let me out until I give in. I’m sick of being their son. I’m sick of only being loved because I’m their heir. And I’m sick of never being able to control my life! I ran away so I could get a taste of what it’s like to be a normal kid for once! All Trickster and Kid Flash did was help me do it,” Hartley explained.

“I was going to take him home when I found him, Flash, honest...but then he told me about his folks and how they’re never happy with him or each other and how they locked him in a closet on his birthday and how he just wanted to not be under their control for just one day. I...I just wanted to help him have fun,” Kid Flash added. Flash shook his head sadly.

“That explains a lot about the conversation I just had with your parents, Hartley. I thought the way they were talking about you as their heir seemed odd, but I just chalked it up to them being worried. But given what you’ve said, I can guess that it was really because they don’t care about you nearly as much as they care about what you mean for their future,” he said.

“Please don’t get mad at Kid Flash or James. Neither of them did anything bad to me. In fact, I’ve had more fun hanging out with them than I can remember having...ever,” Hartley said. He meant it, too. Despite only having known the other boys for less than a day, he already felt closer to them than he did to his own parents. The Flash gave James an odd look.

“While Hartley being a runaway does explain why you never asked for a ransom, it doesn’t explain why you decided to help him do it, nor why you continued to stick around after Kid Flash showed up. Why in the world didn’t you leave him? You weren’t making a profit off him,” he asked. A wide grin spread across James’ face.

“Because I like him. Duh. Just because I’m a supervillain doesn’t mean I can’t like someone and want to hang out with him, does it?” he replied.

“Why would an adult supervillain enjoy spending time with a sheltered teenage boy?”

“Two reasons. First, him being sheltered means he’s adorably naive, and I get a good laugh out of that. Second, I’m only a year older than Richie Rich here. There was a mix-up when my birth certificate was made, and it lists me as two years older than I actually am. My parents and I found that out a couple years back, and I guess we just never got around to fixing it. I wasn’t kidding when I told the court that I was a child at heart,” James replied. Flash’s mouth dropped open.

“You’re only seventeen?” he exclaimed.

“Chronologically, yes. Legally, no,” James replied.

“Mentally, definitely not,” Kid Flash muttered.

“You’re one to talk, Mr. Hasn’t-Hit-Puberty.”

“I have too hit puberty!”

“Sure you have, Baby Flash. Sure you have.”

“Quiet!” Flash exclaimed. James and Kid Flash fell silent.

“Thank you. Why in the world didn’t you tell anyone that you were only 16 at your trial?” the Flash asked James.

“I thought they knew. I didn’t realize that we still hadn’t fixed my birth certificate until Baby Flash there told me that my record lists me as 19,” James replied.

“Is there anyone who can confirm your real age?” Flash asked.

“My parents, my nonna, my zii and zie, my cousins, the other people in the circus…” The Flash nodded and disappeared.

“Well, I don’t know what that was all about, but I think I’ll be leaving. It was great spending time with you two-especially you, Richie Rich. Don’t let your folks get you down, okay?”

“Wait. Where are you going?”

“Away...before I get arrested for breaking and entering. It was nice to meet you, Hartley….and hey, maybe we’ll see each other again someday. Bye!” James replied, pulling something out of his pocket as he did so. Just as Kid Flash started to move on him, he threw the thing at the ground, and it exploded in a mass of colorful glitter, smoke, and streamers. By the time everything cleared up, the Trickster was long gone.

“Darn! He got away again! I’m never gonna be able to become a superhero at this rate. This is the second time today I’ve let a villain get away!” Kid Flash exclaimed. Hartley smiled at him.

“You’re only 12. I’m sure if you keep practicing, you’ll be at least as good as the Flash by the time you’re an adult,” he said.

“You think so?” Kid Flash asked hopefully.

“I know so. You’re already incredibly fast. With a little more experience, you’ll be a formidable opponent for anyone...even someone as tricky as James,” he said.

“And I’m sure someone as kind and smart as you are will find a way to break out from under your parents’ thumb,” Kid Flash replied. Hartley personally doubted that, but after the crazy day he’d been through...who knew what might happen next. Maybe he really would be able to become his own person instead of just his parents’ puppet.

“Thanks,” Hartley said. At this point, the Flash returned.

“All right, Trickster. Your legal age now matches your biological...where’s the Trickster?”

“He got away. I’m really sorry, Flash! I tried to stop him, but-”

“No need to apologize, Kid Flash. The Trickster may be younger than I ever dreamed, but he’s been able to outsmart even me before. The fact that he was able to trick you is nothing to be ashamed of. We’ll just have to track him down later. But first, let’s get Hartley home,” Flash said. Hartley sighed.

“I suppose I’ve had my day as a normal kid. You...you can take me home,” he said quietly. His parents were going to be furious with him for doing this, but getting to know Kid Flash and James would make it all worth it.

“Hartley, I may be taking you home, but I’m not going to abandon you. I’m contacting CPS as soon as possible. What your parents are doing to you is unacceptable,” Flash said.

“Thank you, sir,” Hartley replied. He knew that CPS would take one look at the mansion and his fine clothes and his tutors and dismiss any charges of child abuse out of hand, but he appreciated the thought anyway. Kid Flash handed him a sheet of paper.

“And here’s my phone number if you need someone to talk to,” he said.

“Thank you, Kid Flash,” Hartley replied. Again, he appreciated the thought, but it was pointless. His parents would never allow him to call someone they didn’t know...especially after the stunt he had just pulled. With that, there was a rush, and Hartley found himself in the sitting room of his parents’ mansion, facing his parents, both of whom looked very upset.

“I’ve found your prodigal son, Mr. and Mrs. Rathaway. I’d advise you to think about why he went missing. In my experience, happy children don’t run away from home,” Flash said.

“What do you mean? Our heir was kidnapped by a supervillain!” Hartley’s mother asked angrily.

“No, I wasn’t. I...I ran away with him,” Hartley replied quietly. He didn’t want his parents to become angry at the Flash and risk having them ruin the superhero’s reputation.

“You did what?” Hartley’s father exclaimed.

“Your son was unhappy enough at home that he chose to run away with a juvenile delinquent-your “supervillain” is only 17 years old-just so that he could have one day to make choices for himself. You and your wife should figure out why that is. And if I find out that either of you have laid a hand on him for this...I will make sure that you face justice for it,” the Flash said. With that, he ran out of the room and had disappeared from the estate entirely in the time it took to blink. Hartley’s father scowled.

“Go to your room, Hartley. We’ll talk more about this later,” he barked. Hartley sighed, but obeyed. Time to get used to being a puppet again. As he walked to his room, he could hear his parents fuming about “the nerve of that so-called hero”. As he entered his room, he shook his head wearily, stuck his hand in his pocket..and felt something. Curious, he pulled it out to discover what looked like a wadded up napkin. He unfolded it to find what looked like a computer chip...and a note from James. Dear Richie Rich: I told you that I don’t do mind control. I don’t. It’s not funny enough, and I’ve never been able to get the hang of it. But I think you can. You’ve had the best education money can buy, so I bet you’ll be able to figure out this mind-control doohickey the Mirror Master’s been trying to perfect. Maybe it’ll help you get some control over your life. Your friend, J.J. (the Trickster). Hartley was stunned. How had James gotten this into his pocket? And how could a mind control device help him get control over his life? Even discounting the dodgy ethics behind such an idea, how would he ever be able to use it? It was just ridiculous. He set the chip on the table near his bed, picked up his flute, and began to play. Music was probably the only thing he was ever going to be able to control.

FIN

#flash rogues #fanfic #pied piper #trickster #james jesse #kid flash #flash #barry allen #wally west #rachel and osgood rathaway #dc comics #@gorogues #@swashbuckler

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nastybuckybarnes · 5 years ago

Text

A Broken Fairytale - Five

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Reader AU

Summary: Sold by your mother, you work as a servant for the King and Queen of Acadia. The Prince, much to his initial dismay, takes a liking to you. When a wicked woman intervenes, your life is nothing more than a prison sentence. With a war on the horizon and a betrothal to a missing Princess that he can’t escape, Bucky is forced to be the Prince -and King- that his father wants. A pawn in a bigger game than the two of you realize.

Warnings: Language (Maybe), Fluff, minor character death, lil angst

Word Count: 3.4K

A/N: okay boys. It’s been five months. Omg im so sorry!!

SERIES MASTERLIST MASTERLIST edited poorly but oh well :)

~*~

“Do you know who (Y/n) is?”

Brock looks at the woman then scoffs. “Yeah, new servant girl. Decent enough. Why?”

The woman walks towards the Knight. “I want her gone. She’s been nothing but a thorn in my side since the day I got her. Get rid of her.” Brock raises his eyebrows, “What like, kill her?”

The woman groans and pinches the bridge of her nose. “Ideally, yes, I’d like her dead. But if you haven’t the stomach for that, then get her out of the picture in a different way. Kidnap her, ship her away, lock her up. I really don’t care. But my sister almost saw her daughter tonight. All these years of hard work… could’ve been wasted.”

Brock looks at the woman for a moment then shrugs, “what’s in it for me?” He asks. The woman smiles a yellow-toothed smile and pulls something from her pocket.

“This is what’s in it for you.” She drops a heavy coin purse into his hand and he smiles, opening it and inspecting the pieces of silver and gold in the light of the full moon.

“You want her gone? She’s gone.”

As he turns to leave, the woman grabs his shoulder.

“I want her gone before the new moon. And I’ll need proof. Or else it’ll be you being hunted. I’m a wicked woman and I always get my way.” She lets him go and he scoffs, brushing off his shoulder and shaking off the slight fear he feels.

“Like I said,” he turns on his heel to leave the property, “she’s gone.”

The woman smiles wickedly, content with herself and the way she’s taken care of her problem.

“(Y/n)! Hurry up! We won’t make it to Ben’s before sundown if you don’t move your be-hind!” Wanda calls, sending you a playful smirk as you finish paying for some flowers.

“Alright! I’m on my way!” She giggles as you catch up to her, linking her arm through yours.

“So, I saw Prince James leaving our room the other night. What was that about?” You sigh and shake your head. “He wanted something that couldn’t be.”

She purses her lips and nods, “well I hate to be a bearer of potentially bad news, but he’s joining his cousin and my brother today.” You glance over your shoulder, stomach tightening as you see the dark-haired prince. His eyes are already on you, a guilty look in them and a shy smile on his face.

“Come on. We’re almost there. You can pout and sulk later.” You elbow Wanda in the ribs gently but follow her towards the bakery.

A hand is suddenly on your wrist, gripping it tightly but not tight enough to hurt.

“Ladies. A lovely day we have, isn’t it?” You look up at the prince then over at Wanda. “Yes. Indeed it is a beautiful day, Prince James. I am... surprised that you joined us.” He smiles softly and nods. “I figured it would do me some good to spend time with the people who keep my Palace in one piece.” She smiles then looks down at her feet.

The silence is awkward and tense, and you want to run straight at the horses trotting past.

“Well, I’d better go see how much money Pietro has wasted. I want to give Ben a gift of some sort. He’s always so kind to us.” You make a mental note to get her back as she leaves you alone with the Prince. “(Y/n)... I’d like to apologize for my actions the other night. They were inappropriate and uncalled for, and you deserve better. That’s no way for a prince to behave and no way for a potential suitor to behave. I’m offering you my deepest and sincerest apologies.” You’re surprised, and you’re sure your face displays that clear as day. “Um... you’re forgiven, your Highness. Although I am still curious as to why you wish to court me.” He shrugs, running a hand through his hair. “I find everything you do... mystical. You are different than the other maidens in the country, and you’re gentle. I think that’s what drew me in first. You’re gentle despite what you grew up with. And before you go defend Lady Griffon, know that Steve informed me of her actions.” You don’t look up, almost ashamed of yourself for what she did.

“You’re strong. And smart. And I wish to know you better.” You find yourself smiling, despite your earlier hesitation.

“Well... I suppose there’s no harm in just speaking to you, is there?” He smiles triumphantly and shakes his head. “No, there isn’t. Now, I want to know anything and everything about yourself.”

Steve watches with a smile as you and Bucky talk and laugh together without a care in the world.

However, Steve’s not the only one watching.

From a few feet back, a set of grey eyes stare at the pair, almost taking notes of their behaviour.

A plan formulates in the mind of the staring man, a disgusting and dangerous plan, but a plan that will get him recognized and filthy rich.

“Why do you buy such strange things?” The prince asks, having insisted upon holding your few items.

“I pick the carts that have the least amount of people near them. Those are the people who need the money the most.” He’s absolutely awestruck by your response, falling harder for you by the second.

“And every time we go see Ben, I try and leave some coins in a discreet place for him to find later. I’m not sure if it works, but I know he seems happier every time I see him.”

“How? How are you the kindest person in the kingdom?” You giggle softly and shake your head, handing him a piece of banana bread.

“I’m not. However, I know what it’s like to be mistreated. And I’d never wish that upon anyone. No one deserves to be treated badly.” He frowns, looking at you in confusion, “even those who mistreated you? Do they not deserve to be punished?”

You sigh and shrug, “that’s not for me to decide. If punishment is what is meant to happen to them, then it will happen in due time.” He’s silent for a moment, pondering your words while chewing the baked good.

You’ve given him a lot to think about during your conversations, and he couldn’t be more grateful.

“So there is no part of you that holds resentment towards the people who’ve treated you poorly?” He asks after a few moments of silence. You shake your head and sigh, “what good would it do now? There’s really no point in hating people whom I may never see again.” The back of his hand brushes against yours as you walk and you can’t help but smile softly.

“You shall never cease to amaze me. Every time you speak I find myself even more entranced than before.” You look down and shake your head, ignoring the way your heart races at his statement.

“You’re far too kind, your highness.” He shakes his head, fingers snaking around yours for a moment.

“Please, no more formalities. I wish to know you for you and you to know me for me. That is... if that’s what you’d like.” You stop walking to look up into his nervous but oh so beautiful blue eyes.

“I’d love nothing more, James.” He smiles brightly, so brightly you’d think he’s looking at the creator of all good in the world.

“Very well, what do you want to know?” He asks nervously, his fingers taping nervous patterns against his palm. You smile and gently take his hand in yours.

“I’d like to know about the real James Barnes. Not the prince. Can you tell me about that?” He nods with a smile.

“I can.”

“So... you and Prince James seem to be getting closer with each passing day,” Wanda remarks when you, her, and May are getting ready for bed.

You roll your eyes playfully and shake your head. “We are simply learning about each other. I figured it would be rude to deny the Prince of anything he wants.” May raises her eyebrows.

“Is that why you’re sneaking out of our chambers and walking through the gardens with him nearly every night?” You whip around to stare at her and May who are staring at you with identical smirks.

“Y-you noticed that?” She giggles and nods. “Of course! It’s the talk of the Palace. Only good talk though, I promise.” You sigh then smile widely. “Wanda he’s wonderful. He’s sweet and caring and so charming. He gave me his cloak to wear last night because I was cold. And he kisses my hand and he whispers the sweetest nothings into my ear.”

May smiles at you, a knowing look in her eyes. “You fancy him.” You shrug, smiling bashfully. You turn away from her, your eyes catching on something in the sky.

“Is that... smoke?” You ask softly, walking to the window and peering out. Sure enough, one of the larger houses in the village is on fire.

Just as you’re turning to ask May and Wanda where it’s coming from, the door bursts open and Peter runs in, panting hard with tears streaming down his cheeks.

“Peter! What’s wrong?” May asks, jumping off her bed and gathering her nephew in her arms.

“I-I tried to s-save him!” You step forward and frown, placing your hand gently on his shoulder.

May gently rocks him side to side, trying to calm him down.

“Slow down Peter,” Wanda says, “start from the beginning.” He shakes his head then swallows hard. “There was a f-fire. At the bakery. U-Uncle Ben... h-he’s... I couldn’t...” He hiccups a sob and May gasps, arms dropping away from her Nephew to cover her face.

“No. Please dear lord no.” You take Peter by the elbow and guide him towards you, pulling him into a tight hug when he starts sobbing again.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, stroking his hair as he cries against your shoulder. You blink back tears of your own as Wanda coaxes May to sit back down, shushing the sobbing woman.

“B-but he's gone... h-he’s g-g-gone!” You hug him tighter and kiss the crown of his head. The four of you sit in partial silence for a while, May sobbing softly against Wanda while Peter gradually stops crying.

“It’s not fair,” he whispers. You nod, sighing heavily. “I know. And it’ll be hard. But I don’t think Ben would want you to be so... distraught over his passing.” He coughs a sob and clings to you.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around him and start humming.

When his sobs become less intense, you start singing softly to him.

“Hush now my Storeen Close your eyes and sleep Waltzing the waves Diving the deep Stars are shining bright The wind is on the rise Whispering words of long lost lullabies.”

Wanda helps May to bed, gently brushing her hair as you sing the lullaby to them.

“Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun, We'll be sailing Oh won't you come with me Where the ocean meets the sky And as the clouds roll by We'll sing the song of the sea.”

~*~

You sing and hum to Peter for the next few hours, ignoring the way your eyelids grow heavy.

When he’s finally asleep the moon is high in the sky and the village is dark, the fire having been put out long ago.

“I’m going to go make some tea and maybe start on May’s tasks for tomorrow,” you whisper to Wanda as you pass her. May is sleeping restlessly, tears still dripping down her cheeks.

“Oh (Y/n). You don’t need to do that.” You wave off her protests and start down the stairs, the lullaby stuck in your head.

You hum it to yourself as you heat up some water and clean up the kitchen, trying to get ahead for her schedule tomorrow.

You’re so focused on cleaning that you forget about the tea entirely. More important, perhaps, is the fact that you don’t notice the man watching you. Well, until you crash right into him.

His arms wrap around your waist and he pulls you up against his chest. “Careful,” he murmurs.

You stare up into his eyes, your lips parting for a moment before you push away from him slightly.

You offer him a shy smile before resuming cleaning.

“I heard about what happened,” he whispers, walking over to you and stopping you from continuing.

“Poor May and Peter,” you whisper, closing your eyes and trying to block out the memories of the two of them sobbing.

“If there is anything I can do to help you, please tell me.” You shake your head and offer him a tight smile. “I’m alright. I just want to get ahead in May’s chores for tomorrow.” He stops you again, taking your hand in his.

“You always focus on everyone else. Never yourself. I want to help you with anything you may need. Because I care about you. And I know you might just be trying to make me happy by allowing me to court you but... I do truly and deeply care about you.”

You take a deep breath and look over at him. “That’s the thing, I truly care about you too. I... I find that the feelings I have for you... they’re terrifying. I know that the product of these feelings will be nothing but pain.” He turns you to face him, waiting for you to look up at him.

“(Y/n). Please look at me.” You don’t, far too ashamed of your feelings and embarrassed at admitting them out loud.

“(Y/n).” The way he says your name almost makes you look up. Almost.

He cups your cheeks and bends down a bit, looking up into your eyes. “What’s wrong, doll?” He asks, gently wiping a tear off of your cheek. You sniffle and wet your lips before speaking.

“I’m scared. Of... of this being a hoax. Some kind of terrible joke. I’m so scared.” You squeeze your eyes shut, expecting a laugh or a reprimand. Instead, slightly chapped lips are pressed against your forehead.

“I understand. I really do. I’m scared too. But I’m willing to face the consequences if it means I can be with you. Even if it’s only for a short period of time. You’re worth it. So worth it to me, (Y/n).” You look up into his eyes and cover his hands with your own.

“Do you really mean that?” He smiles and rests his forehead against yours, his eyelids dropping. “I do, (Y/n). I know it won’t be easy because we won't be able to tell anyone, but I’d really like to at least try this with you. And if you really don’t like it... don’t like me, I’ll leave you alone.” You nod once, your own eyes falling closed. He breathes a sigh of relief against your mouth before carefully slotting his lips against yours.

You rest your hands on his wrists and lean into the kiss, your lips moving in sync with his. One of his hands trails down to your waist and squeezes gently. He pulls you slightly and you stumble forwards, desperate to keep your lips connected.

He continues backwards then spins you around and pushes you against the wall. Your hands find their way into his hair and you smile against his lips, gasping for air when the two of you finally part.

“Please don’t push me away again,” he whispers, his breath fanning out across your lips.

“I won’t. But... can you kiss me again? Please?” He chuckles lightly and captures your lips in a searing kiss. His right-hand moves from your waist to your thigh, pulling it up until you hook it around his waist. Grabbing your waist with both hands, he hoists you up while pressing you harder into the wall.

Your other leg instinctively wraps around his waist, your work dress hiking up around your middle. You wrap your arms around his neck and buck your hips, gasping slightly as he grinds against you.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and slides his tongue inside. The feeling is foreign, however not unpleasant, and you find yourself absolutely melting into it.

A soft moan leaves your mouth, the sound going straight to the growing tent in his pants. He grinds against you again and you whimper. Grabbing fistfuls of his hair, you tug hard, satisfaction and warmth filling you as he groans against your mouth.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles it as you catch your breath.

“Please,” you whisper, your mind not fully aware of what you’re asking for. The Prince, however, seems to know exactly what you want and attacks your mouth with more kisses while his hands start exploring your body over your dress.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.” You rip your lips away from his, hitting your head against the wall in the process.

“What the Hell, Steve!” The choice of language the man between your legs uses makes you raise your eyebrows. You take a look over his shoulder then immediately regret it.

Steve stands in the doorway of the kitchen, Wanda, Sam, Nat, Pietro, and Clint all with him.

You press your forehead against James’ chest and catch your breath while trying to muster up the courage to look at your friends.

James takes a half step back, holding your waist tightly as you place your feet back on the ground.

“What do you need?” His voice is rough and deep while his eyes are soft and gentle, gazing at you.

“Wanda was worried because (Y/n) was down here all ‘alone’. I guess she had nothing to worry about, huh?” Sam asks with a grin.

“Y-you guys won’t say anything to anyone... right?” Your voice is a nervous squeak and, upon realizing that you’re genuinely nervous, their eyes soften.

“Of course we won’t. But if you guys choose to pursue something, perhaps you should do it in a more private setting,” Steve says, a gentle smile on his face. You cast your eyes down and bring your hands in front of you, rubbing your thumb on your palm to distract yourself from the embarrassment you feel.

“Peter was waking up when I left. We should get back to him soon,” Wanda says, successfully breaking the awkward silence. You nod, looking up at Bucky for a moment.

“Go on. I’ll... I’ll find time to see you. I will.” You nod again, leaning your head back a bit as he leans down. His lips meet yours in a gentle kiss, different than the ones you shared a few moments prior.

Someone clears their throat and the two of you break apart. “I should... I should go,” you whisper. He rubs your cheek gently with the pad of his thumb and nods. “Yeah. I guess so.”

Shuffling behind you interrupts the moment and you glance over to the source.

“Peter,” you whisper, hurrying over to him. “It’s okay, Peter. I’m here now.”

He hugs you tightly and sniffles, “C-can you sing me the lullaby again please?” You nod and gently comb your fingers through his hair as you start singing, walking him slowly up the stairs.

“Oh won't you come with me Where the moon is made of gold And in the morning sun We'll be sailing”

Your voice trails off as you walk Peter away from the kitchen and upstairs to your room.

Wanda and Pietro follow quickly after, leaving Bucky to face all of his friends.

“You do realize you’re supposed to marry someone who isn’t (Y/n), right?” Natasha asks bluntly.

Bucky shoots her a glare but otherwise ignores the question, walking out of the kitchen without another word.

#bucky #Bucky Barnes #reader insert #bucky x reader #princess au #prince bucky #Lost Princess AU #princess reader #prince bucky x reader #prince!bucky x reader #Bucky x princess!reader #royal au #bucky x reader royal au #bucky x reader royal au #royal!au #bucky fanfic #marvel imagine #Steve rogers

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lovehotelreservation · 5 years ago

Text

Emerald with Envy

Summary: You weren't looking at him. You were looking at the crowd, the orchestra, the lead actor of the show. Claude knew it couldn't be helped. You had to shift your gaze elsewhere. He understood why you didn't want to look at him.

Even if he was your husband.

And yet, as he continued to watch you perform on stage, he just couldn't ignore the envy that was beginning to seize hold of his heart.

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Reader/Claude

HELLO BELOVED!!! it's been a while since I've completed writing this piece, but with the holidays here, I thought now would be nice to post the rather l e n g t h y Claude piece I've been working on. CONSIDER THIS AN EXPRESSION OF MY FEELINGS AFTER ACHIEVING HIS S SUPPORT ENDING AFTER THE WAR ; v ;

ANYHOW I HOPE U ENJOY!!!

..............

For all his tremendous efforts, crafted schemes, and unwavering resolve, there was something just so humorously ironic that Claude von Riegan, the newly annointed king of Almyra, could not even get a general admission ticket to a sold out show by the Mittelfrank Opera Company.

And yet he could not bring himself to chuckle at the absurdity of the situation.

It was not so much as his standing as king that caused the issue--especially with Archbishop Byleth's successes of bridging Fódlan together with other nations.

Rather, he was simply too late to buy a ticket for tonight's performance. The theater house was packed to the brim with nobles and common folk, all eager to witness the last run of a special production directed by none other than Mittelfrank Opera's former songbird, Manuela Casagranda.

And while Claude was curious to see how a show under his former instructor's helm had turned out, his true reason for zooming across the skies on his wyvern from Almyra to Enbarr was the star of the evening's show.

The Golden Deer representative who had won the White Heron Cup of the year 1180.

The one who would soon bear the crown as queen of Almyra.

You, the wife he cherished above anything else in the world.

And while he never doubted your love for him, he understood if there was a wariness in your heart.

He was asking so much of you upon quietly taking your hand in marriage after the war before immediately heading off for Almyra, after all.

But you understood him, as you had all this time. Beyond just his own vision, his actions in Almyra would shape the world for the better--for the kinder. As sad as it was to part so soon after the two of you had exchanged your vows, you eagerly awaited the beginning of a lengthy letter correspondence between you both.

It was by those letters that he learned of the show in the first place.

Your lifelong passion for performance had led up to this debut with the Mittelfrank Opera. However, constant negotiations and intense reformation within Almyra demanded his presence throughout nearly the entirety of the show’s run. With the production ending on this very night, your last letter expressed hope that he would be able to come watch you on the stage that served as the realization of your dreams.

And thus, rather than stand downtrodden outside the theater with a gorgeous bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand and a new Almyran-crafted wedding ring in his pocket to adorn your finger, he still made his way inside.

Backstage to be precise.

With all his efforts in his motherland, sneaking by security was nothing for him.

Surely, while he was going to have to figure out just which spot in the theater he would have to scale along for a good view of the stage, his utmost priority was seeing you.

To say hello, to kiss with love, to embrace so tight, to adorn with gifts.

Though, with the bustle of actors in the midst of powdering their faces and tugging at tights, orchestra members preparing to saunter out to their seats with instruments in hand, and the overall chaos of stage hands preparing scenery pieces and props, finding your dressing room wasn’t going to be easy, especially with the performance so close to starting.

However, he only managed a couple minutes of searching before a familiar robust and pristine voice called out to him.

"Claude? Is that you?"

Truly, Claude thought he was past the point where people could easily get the jump on him. And yet, he couldn’t hold back his surprise as he turned around with raised brows and a somewhat slack jaw.

Sure enough, with the elegant mane of fiery red hair--tied and tamed into a loose low ponytail--that was the first to catch his eye, he remarked with astonishment, "Ferdinand! Good to see you!" A grin quirking onto his lips, he took a step back as he took note of the duke’s overly embellished yet stylish red waistcoat and a matching black pair of tights and pointe shoes. "I'm digging tonight's look. No trusty horse boots though?"

Releasing a rich chuckle, Ferdinand beamed with pride as his hands rested on his waist, "A good eye, Claude! Though, I’ll happily have you know that I am performing tonight."

While not immediate, somehow Claude felt his smile wane ever so slightly. Still, maintaining his exuberance, he let out an astonished, “Really now?! That’s a surprise to me. Surely the news coverage in Enbarr isn’t so slack that a duke performing in a sold out show would go unnoticed.”

”Surely not!” Ferdinand remarked as he shook his head, a knowing smile on his features. “My inclusion was last minute, as the original male lead injured his leg during rehearsal. It was a great honor to be asked by Professor Manuela to step in as his replacement--like I could ever turn her down while she's in need.” Bringing a hand to his heart, he let out a sigh of nostalgic delight. “I happen to know this show by heart from how many times I’ve seen her perform it all those years ago. Plus to reunite in dance with--"

The moment your name was uttered from Ferdinand's lips, Claude’s shoulders tensed slightly as he immediately inquired, “Not meaning to butt in like so, Ferdinand, but where is she?" Lifting up your bouquet, he continued with a sheepish smile, “Gotta make sure these get into her hands asap.”

It was now Ferdinand whose smile turned from cheerful to reserved. His tone calming down, he answered, "As far as I know, she's still getting ready for tonight’s show.” The look in his eyes turned serious, if not narrowing slightly as he gazed towards Claude. “The last I saw her though, she did not look to be in the best of spirits. She even asked Professor Manuela for absolute privacy unless needed otherwise."

Claude felt hollow. “Did she now...?”

The words of your last letter flashed in his mind, as did memories of days from Garreg Mach. Those nights when the two of you would toe the line of curfew to instead take a stroll by the greenhouse and pond, you expressing your dreams of captivating audiences on a prestigious stage, to spread joy through the art of performance.

His response to your letter was expressing an apology, an honest admittance that he was unsure of how he would be able to take the time to come see your performance.

For someone who always managed to pull off the most inane but effective schemes, how could he have not realized that his absence during such an incredible milestone would leave you upset?

The fine wrapping paper around your bouquet crinkled slightly as he squeezed around the stems.

Noticing the change in Claude’s mood, Ferdinand let out a sigh. “All I will say is that she was hoping that you would show up to watch her. And having heard nothing from you since your last letter, she came to terms that you wouldn’t get to see her at all. This time at least.”

Claude’s lips quirked into a smile, albeit a bittersweet one as he let out a humorless laugh. “I can’t blame her for feeling that way. Though…” Resting your bouquet against his shoulder, he shook his head. “I’m not just gonna sit around and feel sorry for myself. Not when this night is--and should--be about her.”

His gaze shifted towards a nearby hallway, wondering if your dressing room was somewhere down along those walls. “I’m gonna make things right by her, whether I even have a seat or not.” Determination in his voice, he smiled as he raised his hand in a departing wave. “I appreciate the heads up, Duke von Aegir. Be careful when you break a leg out there, alright?” Amused at the thought, he chuckled, “From whatever seat I manage to whip out, I’ll be sure to give you your deserved applause as well.”

"Before you try to bring a wyvern into this sacred space to give yourself a seat, I'd rather you take this, Claude…!” Ferdinand exclaimed, his complexion paling at the idea of any sort of shenanigans occurring with Manuela around. Reaching in his pocket, he quickly withdrew and held out a theater ticket. “This was given to me for any guest of my choosing just moments ago, but it was originally set aside for this single hope that you would be in the audience."

His eyes lighting up, Claude grinned from ear to ear as he cheered, “Ferdinand, if there was ever a reason for me to take up religion, it’d be now!”

With a good-natured chuckle, Ferdinand seemed hardly affronted at his less-than-suave rush to pluck the ticket from his fingers, "It was already rightfully yours, my friend! However, if I may overstep, I would advise you go now to claim your seat, lest someone try to argue it is theirs."

Casting another glance down the hallway, his grip on the bouquet shifted. Though his gut churned at the thought of not getting to seek you out until after the show, the noble had a fair point. Yet, despite his inner conflict, his smile remained charming and untouched as he tucked the ticket into his pocket, fingers brushing against cool metal while doing so, "Right you are. I'd hate to cause a scene--tonight at least."

As the activity backstage picked up and with the ticket now in his possession, he bid his goodbyes before quickly taking off for his seat. There was much on his mind as he thought over what was revealed to him just moments ago, namely how he was going to make it up to you.

While he was already mentally cataloguing all the gifts and experiences he intended on showering and spoiling you with, he knew there was one thing that you wanted most of all.

And him being here at the theater, now seated at the balcony closest to the stage with a full view of the production below as it began, was the first step.

The title of tonight’s show brought back faint memories of Garreg Mach, having been a required read for all students as a means to have them become more cultured in the fine arts of literature. A story of a triumphant hero who sought to protect his motherland from an enemy nation that wanted to scrounge every bit of precious resources from a sacred forest, which was protected by an angelic deity.

Ferdinand eventually dragged himself onto the stage as the hero, looking distressed and weary as he was forced to retreat from battle. His character wandered about as stage hands deftly moved a set of glittering trees and flowers around in tune to the orchestra’s lamenting score.

All up until the composition fell silent before a dreamy melody filled the theater space.

Claude found himself grasping onto the railing, peering forward as a spotlight shone upon the furthest side of the stage.

In but a few moments, you soon stepped forward for your first appearance of the show.

His breath turned still, jaw slacking, eyes widening, heart fluttering.

You looked so radiant and beautiful.

While surely he would always be enchanted by your beauty, you looked so ethereal--absolutely perfect for your role. Your hair lusciously glistening under the lights of the stage, your face painted with make-up that accentuated your features, your body adorned with frills and drapes that would make for a delight to see as you danced.

Even by merely walking, you left him feeling captivated by the grace you exuded with each step.

And all the more guilty that he was not there to support you more than he did in the months leading up to the debut of the show and beyond.

Regardless, as he was already determined to amend anything and everything with you in light of his absence, Claude kept a steady eye on you throughout the performance.

As the plot progressed--with a newfound alliance between your and Ferdinand’s characters--it didn’t take long for him to remember the fact that a romance was woven into the story.

So dedicated to your role, you were able to convey a deep sense of yearning with every shy glance and each flustered sputter made towards Ferdinand, who carried himself with just as much earnest emotion.

Truly, the both of you looked as though you were lost within your own world together, even with asides to the audience, whether by a passionate decree, or a lamentful thought voiced out loud.

At no point did you look to Claude’s direction from where he sat above.

It was to be expected.

He gave you no reason to be hopeful.

Though he marveled at the sight of you carrying yourself so splendidly on stage, his elbows resting on the edge of the balcony while his chin rested upon his steepled hands, the vibrant glint of his emerald irises was more subdued.

For his eyes reflected the sight of you being embraced so affectionately by Ferdinand.

Again, you both were playing your respective roles. The war hero who was destined to fall helplessly in love with the enchanted forest’s deity.

Together, you waltzed amidst sweet, airy chords from the orchestra, Ferdinand’s arm curled around your waist, fingers laced with yours.

Together, you confessed and declared your love towards one another as he embarked for the final confrontation that would either save his country--and thereby the forest you swore to protect--or damn everything to ruin.

Together, as he staggered back from the final standoff only for his battleworn form to be caught within your comforting embrace, you shared a kiss.

And together, you both were ushered on stage for curtain call, boisterous applause welcoming the two of you for your performance.

Without fail, the theater was lively with praise from every patron for tonight’s performance.

Yet somehow, as you stood upon the stage, gazing out towards the audience with an appreciative smile on your face and a look in your eye that conveyed muted joy, one cheer caught your attention.

“That’s my girl!”

A whistle that soared through the air with such distinction, carrying a tone that was as striking as arrows that pierced the skies.

Amidst astonished gasps--was that a horrified “Claude?!” uttered from Lorenz down below?--and curious looks, at long last, you looked towards the balcony.

To him.

From the very moment he saw your head shift towards his direction, he beamed from ear to ear, bringing his fingers to his lips as he whistled once more.

The look on your face wounded Claude’s heart from how preciously surprised it was.

This only made him want to swoop you right into his arms and barrage you with kisses, to make up for lost time, for all the affection he could not physically convey.

And so he quickly took off to do exactly that.

As the audience proceeded to make their leave, Claude used the opportunity to sneak his way backstage once more.

Undeterred by any security who would come to stand in his way nor the near endless wave of cast members and orchestra musicians alike, he hurriedly sought out to find you--as he was certain that you were probably scrambling to seek him out as well.

However, the moment he was able to reach the main lounge area, he soon faced the sight of you, still looking so radiant in your costume.

All while surrounded by a multitude of adoring admirers, namely those of nobility, all of whom were instantaneously recognizable.

As he anticipated, there was Lorenz, singing high praises of your performance while near bathing you with roses. From how much he prattled out his passion for the show and the opportunity to watch the esteemed Mittelfrank Opera, it was more likely than not that he would refrain from bringing up Claude’s outburst.

By his side was a grinning Sylvain, who crooned on your graceful movements and expressed his appreciation for the fit of your dress. He gifted you with a bouquet of red orchids, but not before plucking a short-stemmed one to tuck behind your ear.

And as this occurred, Ferdinand stayed near you. While surely it was to catch up with Lorenz and Sylvain, he hovered by your side protectively as to ward off any bold, intense advancements towards you.

There was a look of overwhelmed but touched awe on your face as you were bestowed by a multitude of sweet words and gifts.

The eagerness in Claude’s smile waned.

And the wrapping paper of his bouquet crinkled slightly further in his hands.

”--with this, it would be best for us both to prepare for the cast dinner celebrating the final show,” Ferdinand hummed with a satisfied smile. “I do hope to see the two of you there. Professor Manuela would be thrilled for a reunion.”

”But of course!” Lorenz declared haughtily with a flick of his silken purple locks. “To miss out on this opportunity would be a disgrace on my nobility.”

Memories from the Officers’ Academy resurging into his mind, Sylvain’s expression became rather tense. “Professor Manuela huh…” Still, his expression soon brightened as he continued, “So long as all those pretty ballerinas are around, I’m game.” His eyes shifting towards you, one closed in a wink. “Especially if you’ll be there, angel.”

”Me?” You repeated curiously right as Ferdinand proceeded to lead you towards the dressing rooms with his arm raised in a polite wave, all while eyeing Sylvain sternly.

”We’ll see the two of you later then!” He remarked, all the while he swore that he saw a familiar flash of golden fabric from the corner of his eyes right as he guided you away.

With the fervor of everyone beginning their celebrations early with champagne and hors d'oeuvres or preparing to leave for the celebratory banquet, you and Ferdinand didn’t get to speak much once he brought you to your dressing room. Before he left to change in his own reserved room, he confirmed the details of the evening’s dinner with you.

Upon his leave, you soon let out a sigh as you took in the emptiness of your dressing room.

For just a moment, Claude was here in this theater, cheering for you at the top of his lungs.

And now he was not.

It almost felt like this was the twist in your dream that would cause for you to jolt up in bed.

There was so much swirling about in your mind and heart, all much too vast for you to even attempt to sort through, especially right before a celebration that called for merriment and bliss.

Not wanting to possibly damper the atmosphere of dinner, you resolved to sort this out upon returning home.

As you prepared to set down your gifted flowers and the like, you noticed that at the very center of your vanity was a bouquet of your favorites.

Astonished, you froze in place as a hushed “Claude?” tumbled from your lips.

“Heheh, now that’s the sound I’ve been wanting to hear.”

And then you heard the door lock.

You were swift to turn around.

There, proceeding to lean right against your dressing room door with a playful twinkle in his eye and a cheeky grin on his lips was none other than your husband.

Though his attire was more Almyran in style, his matured, yet still boyish features now more devilishly rogue by his decision to grow out his beard--one still kept neatly trimmed along his jaw--the man before you was the one to whom you had sworn an eternity with.

Claude.

Just as when you were too stunned to do anything but gawk in awe when he called out to you on stage, you were frozen from the rush of feelings that came surging from within at the sight of him. The indescribable joy of seeing him in front of you after so long, the immense relief that he was able to see you perform at least once, the lingering bittersweetness of his absence.

You didn’t know what to do or say.

He could tell with just a single look.

Still, his tone was light, now especially gentle as he spoke to you while his expression softened. “Something wrong?” He stepped closer, his usual proud stature loosening as he neared you. “I understand if I’m probably the last person you want to see--”

You held up both of your hands.

He felt something prick at his heart.

While you braved a smile on your face, you reassured with a shake of your head. “No it’s fine. I just…” You quickly turned around, your back facing him once more. “Just give me a moment to get out of this, okay?”

The sight of your back only weighed heavier on his heart. While he still played everything off coolly, he craved nothing more than to absolve the tension that was keeping the two of you apart. Though you could hear the grin in his voice, you couldn’t hear the ache in his soul. “A moment to wait for you is nothing. Take your time.”

While he went to mind himself with all there was to see in the room--scripts, costumes, small portraits of Mittelfrank alumni--you proceeded to change out of your dress.

Or at least, attempted to.

Being married, undressing in front of your husband wasn’t what was causing your fingers to tense.

It was this overall situation, this feeling of guilt for being upset over a noble cause, of feeling selfish for a man who just wanted to change the world for the better.

Your love for Claude was undoubtedly there.

But there was a lonely sadness that had lingered for so long nonetheless.,/p>

Which only made it more and more difficult to reach for the hooks and silk ties that held the back of your dress’s corset.

As your focus sunk deeper into the twisted nature of your feelings, this endeavor amidst such a tense situation only caused your body temperature to rise for a myriad of reasons.

But it only took the feeling of warm, calloused hands taking hold of your struggling ones for you to feel a welcome, shivering chill.

Furthered by the heat of breath that fanned over your ear and neck.

“Need some help?”

Standing before your vanity, you gazed at the reflection shown on the mirror, of you and your husband together.

Once again.

You had a feeling of where this moment would soon lead to. While one side was elated for what you foresaw, a part of you was adamant to not allow for your emotions to be swayed and cast aside so easily.

Steadying your voice as best as you could, you reassured, “I-It’s fine. You don’t have to worry about it--”

“I may not have to worry about it, but what kind of husband would I be if I left my pretty wife to struggle?”

His eyes peered at you as he stared at your reflection off the mirror before you, his words murmured just centimeters away from your ear. Though his tone carried some mirth and his lips were quirked in a smile, the usual playful light in his eyes was muted, his emerald irises dark and shadowed.

It was a look of passion.

And of love.

Just for you.

The tension in your fingers weakened within his grasp.

��...I’d appreciate your help then.”

And help he did.

Seeing your costume for the first time up close, he could be forgiven for any fumbling, especially while trying to assist you. Tugging at the top halter tie of your dress revealed a small hook that had to be undone, the tugs of your corset’s strings revealed clasps that his nimble fingers made quick work of.

As he continued to slowly help you undress, he could tell when the heat of his breath ghosting over your bare shoulders and his fingers brushing along your sides made you stiffen or shiver. While he certainly wouldn’t have minded if you shut your eyes in pleasure, what he came to notice was that you eyes were downcast to the floor, instead of staring right ahead to your respective reflections.

And in turn--

“You’re not looking at me.”

He found himself gripping onto the front bow that crossed right over your decolletage, emotions pushing the words past his lips before rationality could retain them in place.

Your eyes suddenly flashed towards the mirror, wide from surprise. “I’m sorry?”

In any other situation, he would have taken a step back to calm himself so he could approach the situation sensibly. But knowing that there was so much hesitation in your heart that you probably felt too guilty to admit, there was just no way that he could refrain.

His other arm curled around your waist as he drew you against him, holding your body close as he rested his chin on your shoulder with a sigh and a bittersweet smile.

“It’s selfish of me, especially to even bring this up as something bothersome. All night, you’ve had your eyes cast elsewhere.” His eyelids closed for a moment as he recalled your performance. “To the audience, to Ferdinand, Lorenz, Sylvain--and now your eyes are looking everywhere besides me, even when I’m right here, holding you in my arms like this.”

While his emerald stare revealed itself once more, he proceeded to bury his face into your neck, lips barely tracing over the delicate skin as he murmured, “But you have good reason to do so. I won’t deny that.”

Lifting his head, he gazed up at you with reverence as your eyes shifted over to look into his. "Actions say so much more than words ever could, and all I want to do is show--rather, to reaffirm the undeniable fact that you are the most important person in my life."

His fingers lingered at the front bow of your dress. From what he could assess, one tug at the fabric would free and expose your chest. As much as he craved to see your skin after so long, he waited for what you had to say.

You were quiet in response, an understandable hesitation given everything that had happened.

Though, he didn’t have to wait for an answer for long, by the way your hand rested comfortably over his and squeezed, all while you stared at him earnestly with the soft but yearning response of, ”Then show me.”

Claude had nothing else to say, but an answer to give.

The kiss he then hungrily planted on your lips was just the beginning.

Upon the dressing room sofa where you would sit upon to read over the script or letters from your husband while steadying your racing heart prior to a performance, there was a flutter within your chest as you were laid upon it with an urgency that was as needy as it was tender.

With all the intricacies of your dress, usually Claude would have loved to take his time tugging and undoing every ribbon and button, a pride in the dexterity of his nimble fingers as he undressed you like he would unwrap a present.

However, at this moment, after so long, he was in no mood for such indulgence. If something had to be torn or ruined, so be it. As king, he could easily offer monetary compensation to the seamstress of your costume --perhaps even commission for more lovely outfits for you to wear.

The orchid that Sylvain tucked behind your ear joined your pile of discarded clothes, with his Almyran garb soon following suit.

For every inch of skin revealed to his eyes, his mouth watered to kiss while his fingers ached to touch. He almost forgot to strip you completely from the moment his lips encircled around your nipples, all while his palms kneaded your breasts. How could he have ever forgotten the sweet warmth of your skin against his nuzzling face?

Your mewls from his attention to your chest reminded him to continue onward. For as much as he wanted to near worship your chest, there was still so much more of you he wished to revere once again. His lips continued their journey downwards, mouth ghosting over your stomach, trailing over your hips. His teeth just barely caught hold of the band of your panties before he tugged them down to your thighs, his hand dragging them off before he spread your legs wide apart.

Beneath the flickering flames of your dressing room chandelier, your naked body was bathed in soft golden light. Even now, fully stripped of your costume of a forest enchantress, you still looked so gorgeously ethereal.

As he thought during his days spent at the Officers Academy to now, you were lovelier than any divine deity.

His gaze shifted down to between your thighs, love and lust clouding his emerald eyes in a haze. Catching sight of the glistening shine of your dribbling core, he let out a groan before hurriedly planting his face down, his lips eagerly parted. Long, skillful strokes of his tongue had you mewling and arching against his head.

He grinned happily to himself. Even after so long, he still knew how to make you squirm by his self-proclaimed golden tongue, whether by its teasing flicks or the utter filth he would murmur to you. The focused pressure of quick circles over your clit to tender suckles had his name pouring out from your lips.

And truly, he did not want to cease. After countless months from having your addictive taste linger on his lips, he was ready to spend the night with his face right between your thighs.

However, it was for that same reason he could not indulge for too long, if by the increasingly aching throb of his cock.

For too long he had been away from you.

It was time at last that the two of you were joined together once again in the absolute most intimate way possible.

Looming above you upon the couch, chest broad and fine with hair, eyes gleaming with need and affection, Claude was settled between your legs. “Fuck,” was the word hissed so sinfully from your husband’s lips as he nudged the leaking tip of his cock against the slickness of your center.

Right as he slowly slid every heavy inch of his dick inside you, his lips sought out yours for yet another kiss. Somehow, for as much as he has kissed you up until now during this evening, he felt like he was still far from having his fill. He just wanted to make up for lost time, to satisfy his present urges, to express all the love he should have been putting more effort with doing so.

His hands cradled your waist as he worked his thrusts into a rhythm. Moderate at first, but hearing your moans and feeling your fingers thread through his hair while your legs curled around his hips encouraged him to start pounding into you. He wanted his name the only thing on your lips, to have his hair pulled and his shoulders near clawed, to have your body cling to him with absolute need.

In-between kisses that become messier, amidst the noisiness of his cock stuffing into your sopping center while his balls slapped against your ass, he still had a coherency as he spoke to you, his words husky but the look in his eyes sincere, "I've had my eyes cast to the future--our future--so much that I forgot how important it was to be with you now--"

A knock at the door.

The call of your name.

”We will be taking off soon. Are you ready to disembark?”

Ferdinand.

You were astonished, your eyes breaking contact with Claude’s to turn to the door. Your lips were about to speak when your husband spoke up, his voice cheeky yet firm.

”She’s not ready yet, but I’ll be the one to take her to dinner, Ferdinand. We’ll see you in a bit.”

Ferdinand’s flustered squawk went unnoticed by Claude, who only continued to hammer his cock into you.

Your gasped “Claude-!” was smothered by his lips with yet another kiss. When the two of you parted for breath, his gaze seized contact with yours as he gruffed out, “Don’t think of Ferdinand. Him, Lorenz, Sylvain--anyone. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?”

You were utterly surprised, breathless as you questioned, “Claude, you-- Are you jealous?”

”I’m your husband,” he clarified with absolute resolution, his grip on your waist slacking to instead give way for his arms caging around you. As his lips readied to claim another kiss from your mouth, he purred, “And I’m going to make that clear.”

He was certain that you would admonish him, whether immediately now or when the two of you were finished. However, seeing as how you were the one to initiate the kiss before he could, followed by your hands releasing his hair to cup his bearded cheeks instead, what he heard you say next was all that he could ever want to hear.

Dazed with pleasure as you were, the love in your voice and on the look of your face was absolute. “As your wife, you better.”

A wide grin soon spread over his lips. “Leave it to me.”

And so the two of you remained joined together. By lips, by skin, by words of affection. Your hips rutted back against his thrusts, his teeth made their presence known on your neck, making sure to leave at least one that would be hard to hide during dinner. It wasn’t long until you were both teetering on the edge of orgasm, you and Claude clinging and holding onto each other amidst it all.

“I’m gonna cum,” he gasped out, shuddering as he readied to draw out. “And unless you wanna get to bearing heirs already then--”

Your legs hugged his hips tighter, a mewled “That’s fine” escaping you.

Claude’s jaw went slack for a moment, just before tightening as a fiery resolve took over him as he proceeded to fuck you even harder, his voice in a low and satisfied growl, “That’s my girl. My sweet girl. Mine…!”

With the cries of each other’s names soon released into the air along with the heavy, hot rush of his seed pouring into you, your bodies soon collapsed back onto the sofa together in a satisfied heap, at last the two of you fully reunited--in body and in soul.

Though you both would have to soon get ready as to not miss dinner, for now, Claude was insistent on hugging you close so he could leave an endless trail of kisses along wherever he saw fit, all while your fingers gently stroked through his messy brown curls. The air was tender and light, any bit of tension and guilt from before completely washed away.

When his mouth met yours yet again, Claude stared at you adoringly, his tone tender as he remarked, “And to think, you’ve just captured the hearts of Fódlan with your talents on stage.” One eye closing in a wink, he grinned. “And you get to do it all over again to your adoring people in Almyra.”

Your head tilted slightly to the side, your expression curious if not confused. “My what?”

Claude froze. “Oh...right. About that--”

How he so very looked forward to spending forever with you.

#claude von riegan #fire emblem three houses #fe3h #reader insert #Fic #super freaknasty writing #management will return in a queue minutes

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doing-all-write · 5 years ago

Text

star light, star bright

Joe and Ben take a trip on a boat for a ice relaxing Guys Weekend. What Ben doesn’t expect is to fall in love with the owner of the boat. Or to drunkenly sing karaoke with her.

Pairings: Ben x O.C.

Rating: E (18+, PLEASE do not interact if younger than 18)

Warnings: S M U T. Dom!Ben, but mainly Soft!Ben, bad karaoke and lots of boat and ocean puns (I’m a monster)

Word Count: 14K

Inspired by this iconic photo:

A/N: HELLO. IT’S ME. BACK FROM THE DEAD (Or I had three events in a row at work and wanted to D I E) but to make up for it, have a nice thiccc 14K, smutty fic!! This is my first time writing smut so PLEASE don’t judge me too harshly on it!

But as always, feedback, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! I hope you love it!

ALSO!!! In my most favorite turn of events EVER, I have someone who wants me to tag them! So: @itsabenthing, you’re a real one. (If anyone wants to be tagged in future fics let me know!!)

The sun beat down, scattering nets of diamonds across the water. The slow roll of Jimmy Buffet's guitar mingled with the waves slapping against the hull of the boat. The gulls screeching as they whirled through the air, diving down when they spotted dinner swimming underneath the surface. The wind fluttered the pages of the book held in her hand as she adjusted the sunglasses on her face.

The pole she was leaning against warmed her back. She laid the book down and turned her face toward the sun. It warmed her bones and she took a deep breath in, letting the sea, salt and wind fill her lungs.

She checked her phone, made note of the time and stretched her legs and arms out, almost purring as she uncurled from her reading position. She tipped her head back, closing her eyes to soak up this moment as she patted the deck of her boat.

She had grown up around boats. Her parents owned the Nereid marina and her earliest memories were of sitting on her mom's lap putting her small hands on top of her moms soft ones, feeling the wheel turn smoothly as she memorized the movements. Pretty soon, she had been the one steering the boat and "learning the ropes" as she loved to tell people and thrived off of their pained groans.

She worked at the Nereid every day, learning from the people who came into the port. Incessantly asking questions. Asking about their boats, their lives, where they had come from, where they were going. Her parents had teased her for being so inquisitive but she was in awe of the people who came to the Nereid.

In her mind, they were great adventurers, living a free wheeling life on the sea that she wanted for herself. She would watch people leave and the pull in her stomach to follow them was so strong she could feel her legs tensing, as if getting ready to jump into the ocean to swim to their boat, desperate to join them in whatever adventure they had planned next.

Her parents had expanded the Nereid so several of them littered the coast of California but the original one had passed into her care after she had graduated college. Her parents still helped out and offered guidance when she asked but overall, the original marina was hers to make the calls. It had a charming appeal to it, and between word of mouth and the incredibly Instagrammable mural she had added to one wall, people flocked to it.

As she sat there, soaking up the warmth, she was grateful she had gotten out of bed before the sun had risen. She had woken up early, the last of the stars in the sky fading as the horizon turned from inky black to lilac as the sun began its ascent from the horizon.

Her dad had always told her that each sunrise was different. And that each one had details that would tell her how her day would go. It wasn't until she was much older and in the habit of waking up early that her father would confess he had made it up to coax her out of bed that early.

Some people had their horoscopes, she had sunrises. Whenever she could, she would haul herself out of bed, and clutching a thermos of coffee, watch the sun rise and predict how her day would go. This morning she had a feeling in her gut that today, the sun rise would be incredible. So she slipped out of her apartment above the marina, jammed her feet into flip-flops, crammed a hat on her head and set out.

The sun rise this particular morning had been various shades of pink. The colors closest to the sun a deep red. She had thought to herself that those colors must be what it's like to be in love. She felt a tug in her heart as she contemplated how long it had been since she had been with, well, anyone since she had broken up with her last boyfriend. She quickly shook herself from her melancholy thought and cracked open her book as the sun's rays grew stronger.

Now, the sun was beating down, making sure to fry away every last bit of the chill there had been that morning. She decided she should head back to the Nereid and check in, see how things were going and if she needed to put out any fires. She chuckled as she murmured to herself and one gull that had landed next to her boat, bobbing with the waves, "Well if there WERE any fires to put out, thank god we're by a ocean."

The gull squaked and flew away.

She shook her head ruefully as she stood up and raised her arms above her head, the crochet tank top she had put on over her bikini rising up above her denim shorts.

The sea unfolded before her, reminding her constantly how wide the world was. How many people there were to meet, so many stories to hear and places to see. Her body shivered involuntarily as she contemplated the vastness of it all.

~~~

Somewhere close by to where her boat had just been anchored, another boat was getting ready to pull into the Nereid marina.

"BEN! HOIST THE BOOM AND GET 'ER READY TO COME STARBOARD."

"Do you know anything about boats, mate?" Ben scratched his head as he contemplated Joe's Captain Morgan pose.

"No, not a damn thing. But it sounded convincing right?"

"Yeah, it's the confidence, ya know?"

"It's all about confidence Benny boy." Joe said, slapping Ben's shoulder as he joined Ben at the rail.

Ben offered him a beer which Joe accepted with a quick thanks, the sharp crack of the tab opening piercing though the air.

Ben held his can aloft in a silent cheers and Joe brought his over to gently tap the rim of Ben's. They nodded to each other and raised the drink to their lips as they took a sip.

The sun beat down on them, warming the tops of their heads as the ocean stretched out in front of them.

Joe took another sip as Ben asked, "So, are we getting to port soon? What's the plan?"

Joe considered it, "Well, we plunder first,"

"Obviously."

"Then we do some light pillaging,"

"Of course,"

"Then have a nice meal together because you're my friend"

"That's lovely buddy thank you." Ben leaned into Joe as he wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving him an awkward side hug.

"Anything for you, Ben."

"Hate to interrupt this touching display of male friendship but we're almost to port" Rich, the actual captain, called down to them as he deftly steered the craft towards land.

Joe peered up at Rich from under the brim of his baseball cap, "Shouldn't I be the one making those announcements? I am the captain after all."

Ben snorted, "Correctly identifying the starboard and port side does not a captain make."

"You're just jealous my nautical knowledge is so much better than yours."

Rich barked out a laugh as he shook his head, "The amount of nautical knowledge you have wouldn't even fill a Post-It note."

Joe pointed a thumb back at Rich, "I'm not sure we should trust this guy with our safety out in the open sea."

"I feel much safer in his hands than yours." Ben chuckled.

Joe gasped and brought a hand up to his chest, "I'm being attacked! My character is being demolished by my best friend and Rich!"

"What? We aren't best friends?" Rich deadpanned.

"Not with those insults you keep hurling my way, buddy." Joe wheeled around and pointed an accusing finger at Rich.

Ben laughed and stared back out at the horizon. He obviously knew the world was round but he could almost understand why people thought the world was flat for so long. He felt like if he stared at the horizon long enough, he could fall right over the edge and into the swirls of a galaxy.

Joe sidled up to his friend, eyeing him as he watched Ben's shoulders loosen up.

"You enjoying being in the cold grasp of that fickle mistress, the ocean, Benny?" Joe broke the silence as he clapped a hand down onto Ben's shoulder.

Ben snorted, "Absolutely. A pirate's life is a wonderful live and all that."

"It sure is." There was a. pause as Joe contemplated how he wanted to best introduce the next topic.

Finally settling on, "Speaking of she's and fickle mistresses and all that, how have you been doing since the breakup?"

Ben shrugged his shoulders, "It comes and goes in waves, ha." Joe let out a snort at his friends unintentional ocean pun.

"No, but, some days I think I'm okay and then something happens to remind me of her or our time together and I feel a twinge but," here Ben paused and cocked his head to the side, "I think that's just normal."

Joe nodded sagely, "Yeah. give yourself time, man. That was a long relationship. You're not going to get over it right away."

Ben nodded as he brought the beer can back up to his mouth to take a sip and surveyed the horizon. He could see the brightly painted mural getting larger by the second.

Rich sighed as he deftly steered the boat toward the Nereid. He had worked with Az and her family since he was young. He and Az were basically siblings, which is why, when he saw her standing on the deck of her boat tying it up, he laid on the horn.

Az jumped a foot in the air, dropping the rope she had been holding and managing to hit her head on the boom all at once.

"Fucking hell..." her voice drifted off as she turned around to see what asshole was responsible for taking ten years off of her life.

When she saw Rich pulling into the port with their most expensive boat she extended both middle fingers in a salute, complete with huge grin.

Rich laughed as he saw Az's two-fingered salute but the horn blaring had caused both Ben and Joe to jump and spill some of their beer.

"What the hell, man?" Ben shouted as he stared up at Rich.

"Yo, Rich, what was that about? Did someone cut us off?" Joe asked

Rich shook his head, "Sorry guys, I saw Az and wanted to fuck with her."

Ben and Joe looked at each. Joe cocked an eyebrow and Ben shrugged. They wandered over to the front of the boat to see what was going on.

Ben's first glimpse was of the sun reflecting off of her hair, causing it to look like gold. Then the two middle fingers raised high.

Joe noticed the shit-eating grin before he realized that she was directing her two prominent fingers at the man standing near the top of their boat.

Az noticed the other two figures on the boat about a second too late and lowered her hands, feeling bad that they may have thought she was flipping them off. She raised one hand in a sheepish wave as they pulled closer.

She laughed ruefully to herself as she turned back to securing her boat, Figures, she thought, the one time Rich actually has two cute guys in the boat I'm flipping them off. She took one final sweep of the deck as she shoved her book into her backpack and swung it over her shoulder.

She leapt from the deck of her boat onto the dock, landing with her arms raised triumphantly, waiting for Rich to cast judgement on her landing.

"And Az sticks the landing! The crowd goes wild! The judges give her all 10's!!" Rich imitated the screams of an energetic crowd as she waved and gave an exaggerated bow to her audience of...three now.

She came out of her bow and saw the two guys she had accidentally flipped off standing behind Rich, clapping along with him.

"Thank you, thank you. Please, no, c'mon, it was nothing." She said with mock modesty as she laid a hand across her heart and pretended to wipe a tear from her eye.

"How's your head doing?" Rich asked as he engulfed her in a hug.

"Well, I DID hit it on a large piece of wood so...not great."

"Ahh, c'mon. We were just having a good time."

"Were we?" She shot back as she stepped back and looked over his shoulder, "Hi, I'm Az, I definitely wasn't flipping you two off. I felt bad when I realized he had you guys on board."

"Oh no, I'm used to pretty girls flipping me off, it's fine." Joe said as he stepped forward with a hand extended.

Az let out a bark of laughter as she slipped her hand into his as they exchanged pleasantries.

Az turned to the blonde standing next to Joe and was barely able to keep the "Jesus FUCK you're gorgeous" from falling out of her mouth.

But he WAS. From a distance she could tell he was going to be cute but up close? Az was eternally grateful that someone as beautiful as this man could exist and be right in front of her.

He was checking all her boxes too; blond hair, dazzling smile, beautiful body (God she should ask who his trainer was and send them a fruit basket and a thank you note) the only thing that would really make him perfect was-

"You alrigh'?"

A fucking British accent.

Her eyes widened and Rich smirked. They both knew that she was well and truly fucked.

~~~

"Hey, Sal, how's it going?"

"Great, Az, the fish are biting and the sun is shining. Can't ask for more, eh?"

"Got that right. You stay out of trouble, alright?"

"Back at ya, sweetheart."

She waved at him as she continued down the marina. The sound of her flip-flops thwacking against the wood alerting her arrival to both regulars and newcomers at the Nereid alike.

Joe, Ben and Rich were sitting on the edge of the dock, feet dangling over the clear blue, watching her make her way down the boardwalk. After introductions had been made, Az had parted apologetically, saying she needed to do a lap but she would love to properly show them around once she came back.

"Does she talk to everyone?" Joe asked as he saw her stop at the dock next to Sal's and start talking animatedly to the woman there.

"Pretty much. I mean, she does own this marina so it would be kind of shitty if she didn't." Rich shrugged and readjusted his sunglasses.

Ben shoved his hands into the pocket of his jacket, "She OWNS this marina?"

"Yeah, her parents opened it and she took it over when they started branching out to other locations. This one's the most popular though, mainly because of her," Rich inclined his head to her retreating back. "And it's because she talks to everyone. Everyone loves Az."

"I've been meaning to ask, is her real name Az? Like, A Z?" Joe asked.

Rich snorted, "No, her real name is Azure which is a sick name but she thinks it's pretentious so she shortened it."

Joe nodded while Ben kept his gaze glued on Az as a little boy ran up and tugged on her shorts. She laid a hand over her heart as the child handed her a seashell with a huge grin on his face. Ben felt a smile growing on his face as she bent down to accept the gift, handling the shell with extreme delicacy, listening to the little boy as he told her everything he went through to get it.

Ben was entranced by her. When they had pulled into the Nereid he could tell she was cute. But when he had seen her up close, felt the full effect of her smile, how her eyes sparkled in the sun, the freckles dusted across her cheeks, he felt his breath hitch.

He could vaguely tell that Joe and Rich were talking about other things but he kept his eyes trained on Az. On her hair falling down her back, the way her hips swayed as she walked, the way it caused her ass to move-

"BEN. Come back to us buddy."

Ben jolted as he almost lost his grip on the edge of the dock, catching himself before he landed in the water, "What?"

"Rich said Az knows some good places for us to grab dinner and they'd love to take us out, does that sound good to you?" Joe asked as he furrowed his brow, reaching a hand out to steady Ben.

Ben cleared his throat, "Uh, yeah, that sounds great, thanks man." He inclined his head at Rich who just stared back at him, eyes inscrutable behind black Ray-Bans. Ben's gut suddenly dropped to the bottom of the ocean as he had the horrifying thought that maybe Rich and Az were dating.

Ben quickly dropped his gaze to the blue depths underneath his feet, wondering if it would be worth it to just jump in, start swimming and never look back.

Suddenly, Rich sprang up from the dock, "I'm gonna go check on Az, see what her ETA is to be done. I'll be right back." And with that announcement, strode off.

Joe's brow furrowed as he stared at Rich's back. "I don't know what just happened but I would say that we pissed off our captain."

Ben grunted as he kept his gaze laser focused on the fish cutting swiftly through the waves.

Joe tapped his foot against Ben's, "Hey, man, you know, you can communicate with me through more than monosyllabic sounds."

Ben huffed as he ran a hand through his hair, "I know. Sorry. I got myself all turned 'round but I'm okay now."

Joe's eyes cut over to Ben and as casually as he could, asked, "Was it about Az?"

"Uh-I mean-Not, like, explicitly but-"

"Well the way you were checking out her ass was pretty explicit I gotta say, Benny boy."

Ben's cheeks immediately turned red as he raked his brain for something witty to say. He finally sighed and dropped his head into his hands, "It was pretty obvious wasn't it?"

"You looked like one of those cartoon characters when they see a pretty lady and their eyes bug out of their head."

Ben groaned into his hands, "Dammit! She's just so hot and I don't know, maybe it's the ocean air doing something to me but I couldn't stop staring at her and then I saw Rich staring at me staring at her and now I'm worried that she and Rich are dating and I fucked up."

Joe slowly nodded his head as he contemplated Ben's predicament, "Well, it's good that we're by the ocean. If that's true you can always just drown yourself."

~~~

"He was drooling over you."

Az made an indelicate "OOF" noise as Rich grabbed her arm, doing a do-si-do move so she was facing him.

"Who? The Springer's dog? Because they just told me they tried some new medication to help with that-"

"No. What?" Rich furrowed his brow, "Is that really a thing you can do for dogs?"

Az shrugged, "I guess so. I'm not a vet, nor do I own a dog so my knowledge of cutting edge veterinary practices is sketchy to say the least."

Rich glanced over his shoulder to stare at the basset hound that was, indeed, sporting no less than three uninterrupted strands of drool which was three less than what he normally had.

He shook his head as he turned back to Az, "Okay, that's BESIDES the point. Though I do want to talk to them about that, I'm intrigued...ANYWAY. No. BEN was."

Az stared at Rich for three full seconds before bursting out laughing. Rich sighed and crossed his arms, waiting for the hysterics to die down.

Az dabbed her finger under her eye, "God Rich, that's hysterical. But seriously, why did you come over here."

"His eyes were so laser focused on your ass that I'm surprised there's not a hole in the back of your shorts."

Az's hands instinctively went to the back of her shorts, "Thank god I wore my cute bikini bottoms then."

"You fool. You absolute buffoon. One of the most attractive men I've ever seen in my LIFE was so absorbed by your ass that he almost fell off the dock when Joe yelled at him. I may be ace but that doesn't mean that I can't tell when someone is so thirsty for you that he would willingly drown for it."

Az stood there, staring over Rich's shoulder taking all this information in. The horizon spread out before her, various shades of blue.

"The title of my memoir should be called '50 Shades of Blue'" She finally muttered under her breath.

"AZ."

"Sorry, sorry! I heard you. I just-"

"It's always 'just' with you. You just can't because of the marina. You just can't because you're focusing on yourself. You just can't because of a million other reasons. You know what it JUST is with you?"

Az winced with each accusation hurled at her, "Jesus, just tell me so this can be done."

Rich took a deep breath and gripped her shoulders as he leveled his gaze at her, "You just don't believe you deserve this. You just are scared that someone will leave and you'll be left hurting like you were when your ex left you. But you know something? Even if this perfect replica of Michelangelo's David doesn't work out, you'll a) have a great story and TWO-"

Az's lips quirked into a half smile at Rich's lame attempt at humor.

"Is that you'll at least have given it a try. And I'll always be here for you to sing-scream 'thank u, next' with if he turns out to be a dick."

A laugh bubbled its way out of Az's throat, "Okay but like, we've already done that so often they threatened to call the Coast Guard on us."

A steely look settled over Rich's face, "And Barb from port five can still eat my entire ass. MY POINT though," at this, Rich ducked his head down to look right into Az's eyes, "just go for it, Az. Please."

Az's eyes flickered down at the water lapping underneath the boardwalk. The sun filtered through the cracks of the woodwork causing small sparks to light up as it hit the water flowing underneath.

She heaved a sigh, "Alright, FINE. Besides, if he's truly as into me as you say he is, this should be easy."

Rich clapped his hands, "Oh sweetheart, it's going to be easier than getting the Springer's dog to stop drooling."

~~~

To lighten the mood, Joe had started throwing rocks and bits of wood into the water yelling, "she loves Ben, she loves him not" with each plop while Ben kept threatening to push Joe into the water.

"You almost hit a fish with that one." Ben said, in a desperate attempt to distract Joe.

"He looked at me funny."

"They're fish. They look at everything funny."

"Fair point."

"Oh fuck, there's one swimming right at me."

"GET HIM, BEN. SHOW HIM WHO'S BOSS." Joe yelled.

Ben squinted one eye and gently tossed the piece of wood into the water near the fish.

"I'm going to call the cops." Came Az's voice in a sing song from behind them.

Ben turned around to find Rich and Az strolling back towards them. Az's arm hooked through Rich's which caused Ben's stomach to plummet.

She slipped her arm out from Rich's and dug her phone out of her pocket, "Hello? 9-1-1? Yes, this man here is abusing fish."

"Fuck, dude, we gotta get out of here. I can't go back to the slammer again." Joe laughed as he hauled himself up.

Ben smiled as he swung his legs up onto the dock. His feet fell next to Az's, encased in flip-flops, toenails painted bright pink as he traced the line of her legs up to meet her eyes.

Az's hand trembled a little as she offered it to Ben, "Need a hand?" A soft smile grew across her face as his blue eyes met her own.

The blue of the ocean was nothing compared to how blue Ben's eyes were, Az decided.

The green of Az's eyes were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, Ben decided.

The silence stretching between Ben and Az had gone on long enough, Joe decided.

"SO. Rich. What restaurant are we going to?" Joe loudly asked as he clapped his hands together, breaking the spell.

Az blinked and giggled nervously as she helped haul Ben to his feet. He smiled down at her and thanked her.

"No worries, you're lighter than expected."

"These are fake muscles. A pain in the ass to inflate every morning but so worth it."

The burst of laughter that erupted from Az made Ben smile wider.

She reached a hand out and wrapped it around his bicep, "So, if I squeeze too hard it'll pop?"

"Like a balloon."

She kept her eyes trained on Ben's face as she squeezed his arm and holy god she was not prepared for how solid it would feel. It took all of her will power not to get on her knees and beg him to choke her right there in front of God and everyone.

She cleared her throat, "Haven't heard anything pop yet."

"Well, clearly, your hand strength needs to be built up."

"I think there are some guys who would argue my hand strength is just fine." Az said without thinking. Her eyes widened as she realized the words that had fallen out of her mouth. Ben's breath caught in his throat as the image of Az's hand wrapped around his cock infiltrated his senses.

Rich's mouth dropped open as Joe made a noise that sounded vaguely like a hamster getting strangled.

Az ripped her hand from Ben's bicep "Well, I don't know what we're doing standing around here for, I promised you guys a tour so let's get started." She sped away down the pier, mentally chastising herself for coming on way too strong.

Rich stared at Ben, standing stock still, then at Joe who looked like he'd been hit on the back of the head with a two by four, and muttered, "Well, this is going to be easier than I thought."

~~~

"And this is the mural I commissioned from a local street artist. I actually caught her tagging a wall and I loved her work so much I hired her on the spot."

Ben and Joe stepped closer to take a closer look at the mural that depicted the ocean in a psychedelic fashion. Brightly colored fish, seaweed, shells, sea nymphs ("mermaids are overrated, it's all about sea nymphs now." Az had declared when Joe made a Little Mermaid joke) dolphins, sharks, even an octopus, in neon colors adorned the side of the building.

"It's really popular with Influencers and such. Tourists come to take pictures of it, it's been nothing but an incredible draw." Az said as she trailed her fingers over it as she walked down the wall. Her finger tips landed on the shark and she turned to look over her shoulder, "This guy is my favorite."

Ben meandered closer to get a better look at it, "Why is that?"

Az shrugged as she moved to stand beside Ben, "I've always liked sharks. I think they're fascinating and get a bad rep. We're the ones infiltrating their home. If someone tried to come into my home and polluted it at the same time, I'd probably consider eating them too."

Ben nodded slowly as his gaze drifted over the mural. "I like the octopus."

"Yeah? Why's that."

"He has a chill vibe about him."

"I can respect that."

Watching Ben and Az joke about the killer weed the octopus had, Joe hesitantly asked the million dollar question,"So, Rich, how long have you and Az been together?"

Rich snorted, "Too long." Hearing the squeak that came from Joe, hastily realized what he meant, "Oh, like, romantically? You think Az and I are, like, together together?"

"Um, yeah dude. You seem pretty comfortable around each other and I just assumed..." Joe's voice trailed off as a bemused grin melted over Rich's face.

"Are Az and I close? Yes. Do I love her? Absolutely. Is she a giant pain in my ass? Since day one when she told me I give off too much of a 'Jimmy Buffet' vibe. Am I also ace so therefore have no desire to date her or anyone? Oh you bet your sweet ass."

"So...Ben's clear to shoot his shot?"

"Ben's so clear to shoot his shot the whole fucking playing field is barren."

"You don't know the first thing about sports do you?"

"Not a thing my man." Rich confirmed cheerfully.

~~~

The sun had begun to make it's descent and the first whispers of orange and pink began to crawl their way up into the sky.

Seeing how small the gap between the sun and the horizon had gotten, Az clapped her hands together as she turned to the group, "So, if you guys are interested, there's a great bar nearby that I can get us either free or deeply discounted drinks. You in?"

Joe stared at Az for a beat then threw an arm around her shoulder, "I've never loved anyone more."

Az laughed as she rested her head onto Joe's shoulder, "And I'm sure it was me flipping you off that won you over and not the promise of free drinks."

"I've never been so into anything in my life." Ben muttered as he stared at Az. The words came out more intense than he intended. Az felt a warmth spreading through her stomach as she lifted her head from Joe's shoulder.

Ben blinked at his own intensity but didn't break his gaze from Az's as he stepped closer to her. The movement of her throat as she swallowed was the only thing that broke his gaze.

Rich's eyes were ping-ponging back and forth, relishing in the sexual tension.

Joe slowly slid his arm off of Az's shoulders and hesitantly stepped back.

Az could feel the heat building in her belly, a flush spread across her cheeks as she blinked up at Ben. The voice in her head finally snapped to attention and reminded her to say something, anything.

Her tongue poked out to swipe across her bottom lip. Ben shifted as his eyes darted down to track its journey, using his willpower not to capture her lips with his.

"Good, because the night's just getting started." Az said thickly as she slide her hands into the pockets of her shorts.

Only Rich caught her trying to wipe off her palms in her shorts and rolled his eyes.

He knew from personal experience that Az's palms always got extra sweaty whenever she flirted, clearly even a target as easy as Ben couldn't escape her clammy palms.

He just prayed that he wouldn't try to hold her hand in the next 20 minutes.

~~~

Az jiggled the worn handle on the innocuous wood door. She turned her head to glance back at Ben, "Don't worry, this is usually what happens."

"Good, because sketchy unmarked door? In an alleyway? I figured you had just lured us back here to murder us and wear our skins."

"Fucked up that you thought that. I would never wear your skins. I'd preserve them, stuff them and then use them as tasteful decor."

"JESUS Az." Rich declared as he stared at her, slack-jawed. Joe's face was caught in between amusement and horror.

Az winced as she finally got the doorknob to turn, "Too much?"

Ben waltzed through the open door, "Don't think there's ever 'too much' of you, love."

Az's cheeks flushed and she squirmed as he aimed a wink in her direction before stopping in the doorway to let his eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

There were Christmas lights strung all around the perimeter of the bar. Tables haphazardly littered the floor with chairs floating in between tables like so much debris. The back of the room was taken up by the actual bar. To the right, a small, hastily constructed stage with a karaoke machine looked to be the only thing that hadn't been there since the 70's.

Vintage concert posters promoting The Rolling Stones, Janis Joplin, Jimi Hendrix, Carol King, Fleetwood Mac, Queen and more were wallpapered in a collage. The jukebox standing guard to the side of the front door was playing Tom Petty and The Heartbreakers. There was a low rumble as patrons and bartenders talked to each other.

When the door opened and Ben stepped in, most of them turned to peer curiously at who had just entered but didn't paid him, or Joe, any mind. A few hands went up and some greetings were called out in response to Rich's greeting as he waltzed into the establishment.

Then Az walked in.

"AZ!"

The bar exploded in a flurry of sound and movement as chairs were abandoned and tables shoved as a crowd foamed up around Az. Ben, Joe and Rich were forced to shuffle to the side as hands and bodies crowded around her. Most of them offering to buy her a drink or updating her on events that had transcribed since they had last seen her. Az took it all in stride. She smiled and laughed and nodded and let herself be carried by the crowd to the bar.

When she reached the bar she turned her head and Ben saw her eyes flitting from corner to corner, trying to locate them after the crowd had bum rushed her.

Ben raised a hand and her eyes locked onto the gesture at once. She smiled and he saw her shoulders relax. She turned back to the grizzled fisherman that was either greatly exaggerating the size of a personal body part or talking about a fish he had caught earlier in the day.

He desperately hoped it was the latter.

A sharp jab to his kidney brought him back to the present, "What are the odds she's getting drinks for all of us?" Joe asked as he surveyed the crowd that was three deep by the bar. Ben shrugged as Rich weaved his way to a table that was right in front of the karaoke stage.

Ben and Joe followed Rich and sat down as if this was another normal Saturday night for him. Joe kept staring at the bar when he finally broke, "So, is that a normal occurrence? Or did you tell everyone to pull that stunt so we'd think she's cool?"

Rich snorted, "God, I wish we were that coordinated. No. This is Az's favorite bar. And again, she grew up here so a lot of those people have known Az since she was just a wee tot."

He shrugged, "Everyone loves Az, I don't know what to tell you."

Ben felt his head nodding in agreement, then without thinking, asked, "Do you love Az?"

Rich's head snapped up so quickly he felt something pop in his neck and Joe's eyes widened a comical amount at Ben's boldness.

Rich coughed as he tried to find the right words, "Yeah, but like a sister. I'm ace, so, romantic feelings? Not my thing."

Ben felt like he was going to pass out. Joe could see the gears turning in his friends head and decided to help drive the point home and asked Rich point blank, "So, you and Az are not dating?"

"Nope." Rich popped the 'p' with extra verve, keeping his eyes trained on Ben.

Ben coughed into his hand, "So, uh, is she-uh-dating anyone, then?" He slouched down in his chair, hoping to offset how nervous he sounded with some laid back posturing.

Rich watched the full grown man in front of him sink so low into his chair he almost fell off of it and thought, Jesus, they're both such idiots. I hope they bone all night.

"No. And there hasn't been anyone in a while." Then realizing how that sounded tried to make it better, "Not that there's anything wrong with her! She's amazing, she just puts all of her energy and focus into the marina. Not saying that she wouldn't do the same in a relationship, it's just-AZ! Thank GOD you're back!" Rich flung his arms into the air as Az approached their table with a tray full of drinks.

Did you say something that didn't sound great then to make up for it you talked more which made it sound worse?"

"We've known each other too long haven't we?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way. I'll be right back." She turned and went back to the bar to return the tray Penelope had given her to transport the drinks.

Penelope managed the bar and was always willing to let Az pick up some shifts bartending when she needed some extra cash. When summer time got to be particularly heady, Penelope would entice Az to work with promises of free shots and unlimited baskets of deep-fried mac and cheese.

"So, Az. Your new friends are, how do I want to say this? Absolutely stunning."

Az kept her eyes down as she slipped the tray on top of the stack behind the bar, "Yeah, I guess. I don't know if I would describe Rich as stunning but-"

A sharp sting landed on her hip causing her to yelp, "What was that for?"

Penelope stood with the towel already rewound and ready to strike again, "You know damn well I'm not talking about Rich and if you don't tell me why blondie can't keep his eyes off your ass I'm gonna smack you again."

She pulled her arm back to show she was serious and Az scampered to the other side of the bar with hands held up, "OKAY! Okay! I'll tell you, just-be cool man. Put the towel down."

Penelope stared at her.

Az rolled her eyes, "If I sleep with 'blondie' tonight do you really want me to be covered with tiny red marks and he's so disgusted by my disfigurement he jumps into the ocean to get away from me?"

Penelope's eyes narrowed as she considered, "Alright, fine." The towel lowered as she tucked it into her back pocket, "But I still want answers. No one that beautiful has come into this bar since last time you came in."

"Lop, you flatter me."

"I know. It's a tactic to get more information from you."

"I should be mad but I'm just so honored you think I'm beautiful I'll tell you anything."

"Alright, what's your social security number?"

"Not that flattered."

"SPILL. NOW." Penelope ordered, slamming her hands on the bar.

Az rolled her eyes, "ALRIGHT, GOD. I went out on my boat this morning and as I pulled back in so was Rich with-"

"I so wish you had said pulling out."

"Will you let me FINISH?"

"Bet you won't be saying that later tonight. Blondie looks like he knows how to eat pussy."

Az threw up her hands, "You know what? No. You don't get to know ANYTHING now because you can't behave yourself. Are you HAPPY?"

Penelope shrugged, "Not as happy as I would have been if you'd said you'd pulled out."

"You're impossible."

"So I'll see you in the morning for coffee and a recap of your sexual escapades?"

"Of course. Love you."

"Love you too," Penelope said to Az's retreating back.

~~~

As she slid into her chair, Az lifted her glass in a toast, "Cheers, I'm glad Rich picked your guys' sorry asses up."

Her eyes met Ben's in the gloom and he saw the Christmas lights reflected in her eyes like so many stars.

"I'm glad that he picked us up too." Ben smiled at Az and let his gaze linger with hers as he took a long pull from the glass.

Az couldn't stop herself from staring at his lips. How full they were. How good they looked wrapped around that glass. How good they would look wrapped around certain parts of her anatomy.

Rich and Joe exchanged glances as Ben and Az fell into a loaded silence. Rich took a gulp from his glass and slammed it onto the table, "WELL. I, for one, am not going to let this night go to waste. It's karaoke time."

Az's eyes lit up as she whipped her head, "You're so right. It absolutely is."

Joe was bouncing up and down in his seat, "Thank GOD someone else brought it up because I was about to ask if I could get dibs on first round."

Ben groaned, "Do we really have to do this? I'm not much of a karaoke guy."

Az turned to him, "You will be after you have about five more of those," indicating the half finished beer in front of him, "so drink up. Because I have a feeling Turn Around Bright Eyes is going to be our big duet."

Ben's mouth fell open in shock as Joe cheered and Rich rolled his eyes, "God, Az. I fucking hate that song. Even when they covered it on Glee it was still a trash heap."

"Everyone hates that song but by god is it the perfect karaoke number."

Rich opened his mouth to argue, mulled over Az's statement and shrugged his shoulders in defeat, "I can't argue with that logic."

"Oh real help you are." Ben shot to Rich.

"Sorry Benny Boy. We all gotta pay the piper for free drinks somehow. In this case, it's total humiliation in front of an audience." .

Ben rolled his eyes and downed the rest of his drink as Az, Joe and Rich cheered. "Let's get this fucking over with."

~~~

"CAUSE I'M MISTER BRIGHTSIIIIIDEEEEE! GUITAR SOLO!" Ben launched into an epic air guitar solo, complete with white man overbite, as Rich gawked.

"Holy shit, he's such a dork, I can't believe you want to sleep with him, Az. Az?" Rich looked over to see Az flailing as she air drummed along, threatening to hit anyone within a five foot radius.

Joe was blissfully jamming to the air bass guitar, eyes closed, not a care in the world.

Rich shook his head in amazement as he finished the last of his drink.

The table was littered with pint glasses, most empty, a couple filled with a sliver of amber liquid. They had worked their way through most of the karaoke classics. Joe's rendition of Livin' On a Prayer brought the bar down and Az's version of I Wanna Dance With Somebody definitely had Ben feeling some type of way.

They were well into hour three of karaoke, with most of the patrons clearing out after hour one. Penelope had gotten several incriminating videos of Az that she could barely wait to show her in the morning.

Lop was currently wiping down the counter, eyeing the plug of the karaoke machine as the final notes of Mr. Brightside died out as Ben looked up, surprised to find himself on his knees after his impassioned performance.

Az, Rich and Joe were on their feet, whopping and clapping wildly as Penelope gave Ben a nod, the most encouragement she had given him all night.

Ben stood up and gave a bow then stumbled as a whirlwind of laughter and cheering enveloped him in her arms, carrying the scent of coconut and salt with it. Az was laughing in his ear as she hugged him and pulled back to reveal her smile, making the whole room seem to glow. He stared at it, committing it to memory.

"C'mon Benny boy, it's last call." Az was saying as she wrapped an arm around his waist, "and Lop does not like it when we push our welcome."

"Some of us have things to do Az!" Lop called from the bar where she was stacking glasses.

Az rolled her eyes as Ben slung a heavy arm around her shoulders. Joe and Rich were by the door holding it open for the two of them as they sauntered through, the alcohol leaving them warm and loose but coherent.

"So, have you seen the boat we arrived on?"

Az snorted, "You mean the one that belongs to my marina? Yeah, I may have seen it once or twice." She pinched his waist as he protested, "Alrigh'! It was a conversation starter. You know? One of those things were I say something, then you say something else?"

"I know how conversation works, Ben."

"Are ya sure? Because you've been pretty quite."

Az's mouth dropped open in shock as she stuttered a response and Ben chuckled warmly as he pulled her in closer to his side, "'M jokin' love. Don't worry."

Az's head lolled into his chest, trying to hide her grin at being called love, as she groaned, "Have I told you you're a giant pain in my ass, Hardy?"

"A few times, maybe." Ben smirked as his hand slid down her back to rest on the curve of her back that sloped down to her ass.

Az inhaled sharply as she felt his hand move lower. Ben tried to act like he hadn't heard her but his widening smirk gave him away.

They rounded the corner and saw the marina rise up before them. The sound of the ocean softly lapping against the hull of the boats bobbing up and down momentarily bringing a sense of serenity to Az.

Ben was transfixed by the change that came over her when she stared out at the ocean. The wind picked up her hair, like the wind was trying to pick her up and take her where she needed to go. Her eyes were fixed on a spot out on the horizon and Ben wanted to follow those eyes wherever they went. He inhaled the scent of the sea and knew that he would always think of Az whenever he smelled the ocean from now on.

"Sing us a SONG on the PIANO man! Sing us a SONG TONIGHT!" Ben turned to see Rich and Joe stumbling up the dock, arms wrapped around each other and he couldn't figure out who was helping who continue to be upright more.

"Are they both managing to hold themselves upright? On each other?" Az had turned in Ben's arms when she heard the singing. She had drapped her arms around his neck, peering over his shoulder and could feel his chest vibrate as he laughed.

"We shouldn't judge too much, we're kind of doing the same thing." He murmured into her ear.

"Yeah but, we're not THAT intoxicated. I can stand up perfectly fine on my own, see?" Az extricated herself from Ben's hold and he immediately shivered at the loss of contact. Az stood before him and over-exaggeratedly stamped her feet into the ground and put her fists on her hips as she beamed at Ben.

Ben couldn't help the smile that broke over his face and Az's own smile grew wider as she contemplated the beautiful boy before her. His eyes reminded her so strongly of the ocean, always changing color but still feeling like home. He was charming, kind and funny. She was smitten. And she was fairly sure he was as well.

But she didn't want to assume. It would rip her from the inside out if she made a move and he gently let her down with that accent and those eyes looking at her with pity. She couldn't handle that.

Ben watched as a conflict raged behind Az's eyes, causing her posture to deflate. He tilted his head, trying to decipher what had happened but was jolted forward as Joe rammed the full force of his body mass into Ben's back.

Ben had a height and muscle advantage on Joe but when Joe had alcohol and the love he had for his friends coursing through his veins, no one stood a chance.

"BENNY BOOOY THE PIPES THE PIPES" Joe belted into Ben's ear, causing him to flinch,

"Hey buddy, you doing okay?"

"Ben, I am better than you have ever been or ever will be." Joe's eyes were going in two different directions as he tried to rest a hand on Ben's shoulder but missed by a mile.

Az laughed at Joe as Rich tucked his head into the crook of her neck and started whining about how he just wanted some french fries.

"I uh, seem to have done more damage than I anticipated doing." She sheepishly.

Ben shook his head, "Nah, karaoke brings out the worst in others. It was inevitable."

"Or the best." She said softly and looked at Ben with wide eyes and bit her lip. Ben shifted as he tried to come up with a response but it was challenging with Az staring at him like that and Joe trying to climb Ben's body so he could get a piggy back ride back to their boat.

"AAAAAZZZZZ. Please, I just want some fries!"

Az rolled her eyes and the moment ended as she turned to face Rich and grabbed the sides of his face, "Then by GOD man we are going to get you some fries."

Joe's face lit up, "FRIES? I also want those!"

Az giggled as Rich planted a sloppy kiss to the side of her face, "You're worse than the Springer's dog but c'mon gang let's get some starch."

Joe and Rich cheered as they stumbled down the pier towards fries and Az tried to herd them away from the sides so they wouldn't fall into the water. Ben watched them leave and shoved his hands into his pockets. He needed time to think. To be alone. So he made his way on board the boat they had come in on.

He climbed the ladder all the way to the top deck and laid out on his back. His arms crossed behind his head to offer some cushion as he gazed up at the stars.

He wondered what had made Az lose confidence in herself. He assumed he had made it clear he wanted her. Maybe she didn't want him? Maybe that glimmer in her eye was her way of realizing that she just wasn't as into him as he was into her?

He didn't think he could stand watching those eyes fill with pity as they tried to let him down gently.

He sighed, picked out the brightest star and sent up a desperate wish.

star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...

~~~

"I love fries. Almost as much as I love you Az."

"Thanks Richy that's very sweet. And after watching you eat a whole basket of cheese fries in under two minutes that really means something."

Rich mumbled something about how potatoes were his one true love as he drifted off to sleep, curled up on the recliner in Az's living room while Joe had taken up more space on the couch than a man that size should have. Checking to make sure both were asleep and not in danger of choking on their own vomit, she exhaled and scanned her apartment for her phone. The soft glow of it alerted her to its presence on her kitchen counter.

She crept over to pick it up only to be greeted by a text from Lop,

Can't wait to see all the hickies you have tomorrow at breakfast.

She rolled her eyes and wiggled her thumbs over the keyboard as she tried to formulate a proper response. Should she tell Lop the truth? That she was so terrified of being rejected by Ben that she wouldn't even take a chance? Or should she just ignore her text and go to bed?

She groaned, letting the weight of her head fall forward until it. thunked against her phone as she contemplated what to do.

She lifted her head, locked her phone and slide open the balcony door. The ocean air filled her with calm as she surveyed the boats bobbing in the waves.

She looked up and found the brightest star she could. She closed her eyes and with her whole heart started to wish.

star light, star bright, first star I see tonight...

~~~

30 minutes had crept by and her eyes refused to close. She did everything she could think of to relax and fall asleep. She had counted sheep. She had focused on her breathing. She had pulled up an ASMR YouTube channel.

(She quickly exited out once she realized she was only clicking on videos that had ocean sounds in them and realized how idiotic that was.)

In a moment of pure frustration she threw a temper tantrum, flinging her limbs, beating the mattress with her fists. She cursed her body and brain for failing her when she needed peace the most.

She took three deep breaths and wondered where Ben was for the 500th time that night. After leading the Drunk Brigade to get cheesy fries and when she asked him if he wanted anything and didn't receive a response, that's when she realized he wasn't with them.

When she tried to get Joe to give her Ben's number so she could check on him, he had pulled up Spotify and started blaring "Boss Ass Bitch" which meant Az had to wrestle it from him and put a stop to it before the other drunk individuals standing in line started a mosh pit.

After making peace with the fact that she definitely wasn't going to sleep any time soon, or even at all, she got up and hoped a walk would clear her head. Walking along the dock always put her at ease.

As the wind whipped around her, she pulled the sweatshirt she had thrown on over her shorts closer to her to combat the chill. She had planned to walk to her boat but something pulled her towards the boat that Rich, Ben and Joe had sailed in on. She liked going to the very top of it, it gave her the best view of the stars. When she was younger she liked to spend nights up there, reaching her hand up and pretending she could pluck the stars out of the sky.

She got to the top and froze as she saw a figure laying on the ground. Immediately her heart sped up and she thought through all the possibilities.

It could be some homeless person. They wandered the boardwalk sometimes. Maybe I could just leave and deal with it in the morning?

Oh god, what if it's a dead body? Was her next immediate thought, Then I'll somehow be blamed for the murder and go to jail and my whole life will be ruined.

When the body stirred, the relief she felt was short lived as she realized she would have to deal with a very LIVE body.

Direct action is the best action. Catch them off guard, knock them out, then call the cops. She slowly slid her phone out of her pocket and dialed 9 1. She nodded to herself, took a deep breath in and raced onto the deck waving her phone over her head,

"YOU BETTER TELL ME WHAT YOU'RE DOING HERE RIGHT NOW BEFORE THE COPS GET HERE ASSHOLE"

Ben jolted awake, not even realizing he had fallen asleep, and tried to sit up only for his head to collide with something solid, causing him to fall down on his back groaning.

Az rubbed the spot where her head had made contact with the mystery perp and wondered briefly if she was out of her depth if this person was willing to stoop so low as to headbutt her.

Ben carefully opened his eyes as the voice said, "Okay, headbutting someone is low ESPECIALLY when you're the one who broke onto MY boat and besides, NO ONE wins in a headbutt."

He recognized that voice.

He knew that voice.

"Az! Az. Az, look at me. Look! It's me! It's Ben! And I didn't mean to headbutt you, but, christ, you have a dense skull."

Ben? Az lowered her arm as the words cut through her adrenaline fueled rampage. She looked down at the figure below her and fully understood what had happened when her eyes met the blue ones staring up at her.

"Jesus, woman. You know how to give a wake up call."

Az breathed a sigh of relief, "Well you know how to scare someone! Why didn't you tell me you were up here?"

Ben looked down as he shuffled his feet and muttered, "Needed some time by myself." Az cocked an eyebrow in disbelief as she chewed over what he had just admitted to her.

Why did he need time to think? Was he worrying about her? That unspoken moment on the pier that was ruined by Az's overthinking and Rich's need for potato products after a night of drinking?

"Wait, why are you up here? Shouldn't you be holding Rich's hair back as he vomits into a toilet or something?" Ben shot back at her accusingly.

It was Az's turn to become sheepish and she rubbed the back of her neck, "I, um, I couldn't sleep."

Ben looked at her for a loaded moment before scooting over and patting the spot next to him, "Well, you're welcome to join me. I don't think I'll be going back to sleep anytime soon. Too much adrenaline coursing through my body."

Az whacked him on the shoulder as she settled next to him and the smirk on Ben's face grew as he turned his face up to the night sky.

"You come out here a lot when you can't sleep?"

Az hummed, "It's peaceful. Helps me put things into perspective."

Ben nodded, "Wish I lived near water. But I've forests near me which helps. Something calming abou' trees ya know?

"Yeah. Forests. Oceans. Mountains. Anything in nature that's bigger than you that reminds you of how small you are and how big the universe is. And how lucky we are to even be here at all."

"Oh, we're jumping right into the Deep Thoughts, huh?"

Az smirked, "I'm quite quick Hardy, ya gotta keep up."

Ben knocked his elbow against hers, "Well if we're jumping into deep thought territory, every time I look at the night sky I find the brightest star and wish on it. Helps me realize what I want to focus on in my life."

Az's eyes grew wide, "Wait, for real?"

"Yeah. Been doin' it since I was a kid. Why?"

"I do the same thing."

"You're joking."

"I swear on my LIFE."

Ben chuckled, "Well, I don't think we have to go that extreme, I believe you but, wow. Huh. Guess the universe is trying to tell us something."

"Guess so." Az smiled back at Ben and when he didn't drop his gaze, dropped hers first.

She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear as she drew her knees into her chest, still feeling the intensity of Ben's gaze on her.

"What?"

"What do you mean, 'what'? Not allowed to look at you?"

"You are but it just, I don't know, makes me nervous?" She flinched at the uptick that ended her remark and mentally chided herself for not sounding more confident.

"I make you nervous?" Ben could hear the smugness in his voice and knew he should tone it down but couldn't find it in himself to do so.

"Oh my god, I'm going to regret telling you this, but, yeah. I mean, obviously."

Ben leaned back on his hands as he studied Az's profile, "Why do I make you nervous? Not like I'm intimidating."

"You kind of are though?" When Ben made a shocked noise Az straightened up to face him, "No! No, no. Not in like, a bad way? Just in like, a, ah, you're very attractive?" She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks and pulled her hands into the sleeves of her sweatshirt and balled them up, "And, uh, for someone like me, that's very intimidating."

"You're intimidated by me because I'm...attractive?"

"Yes, Ben! I think you're hot! Smoking! A total smoke show! You happy? And I know that you think I'm just some dorky girl who likes cheesy 80's ballads but," she flung her hands towards the heavens as if to illustrate how fruitless it would be for him to like her, "here we are."

Ben could barely contain the smile that threatened to break his face in two. "Alrigh' well, first of all, thank you for sharing your real feelings." Az clambered up, muttering about how she had embarrassed herself enough when Ben hoisted himself up and grabbed her wrist, "but don't assume you know what I'm thinking."

Az's body stilled and Ben knew she was listening despite her not meeting his gaze, "You just thought I felt one way abou' you? That's a little short sighted. You ever assume you know everything about the universe? I've got whole universes inside me too!"

Az peeked at Ben through her eyelashes, "You get that line from the last John Green novel you read?"

Ben gently grasped her chin with his thumb, angling her head up so she would fully look at him, "Maybe I did. There's a reason he's so popular. But don't interrupt me." Az pouted and Ben traced the outline of her lip with his thumb.

She shuddered at the contact and Ben stared into her eyes, "I've wanted to kiss you since the moment I saw your hair shining in the sun and your two middle fingers greeting us as we pulled into port. I couldn't believe someone as beautiful as you wanted to hang out with someone like me. I mean, fuck, Az," he wheezed out a laugh, "I've been losing my mind trying to find ways to be closer to you. Make you laugh. Make you smile. I sang fuckin' Turn Around Bright Eyes just because you asked."

"And you were the best duet partner I've ever had for that song."

"While I take great pride in that, I'm on a role here."

"Sorry. Please continue."

Ben took a deep breath in, "Az, I've wanted you ever since I saw you. But then I got to know you and, fuck, that feeling has just increased. So please," his voice dropped to a whisper as he ducked his head and his lips brushed over Az's as he asked, "Can I kiss you?"

Az's breath came out in shaky bursts and she didn't trust herself to move. She nodded and Ben's lips melted against hers as he cradled the back of her head and wrapped an arm around her waist.

It felt like everything in Az was aflame. The fire that had been building in her ever since she laid eyes on Ben had reached a fever pitch.

His lips moved against hers and he groaned. Her lips were just as soft as he expected them to be.

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer to her. He grasped her waist with both of his hands, fingers digging into her sides to ground her to him. As if he needed to make sure that she was real and she wasn't going anywhere.

Az had no plans of leaving anytime soon. She stroked the short hairs that grew at the nape of his neck, causing Ben to grip her waist tighter and she let out a moan.

Ben almost came as she moaned into his mouth. He could feel his cock growing harder and when Az pressed herself closer to him she could feel it as well.

She pulled back from his mouth with reluctance and let out a shaky breath, "Someone's excited." Ben threw all delicacies to the wind, "My cock has been hard since we started hanging out." Az's eyes grew wide and Ben could clearly see how blown out her pupils were.

The wind blew a few strands of hair across her flushed cheeks and with a glance down, Ben could see her chest rising and falling rapidly. With that thought, he traced his hands slowly up her sides as Az's breath hitched in her throat.

"Is this okay?" Ben whispered as his hands crept up her sides, agonizingly slow, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as Az nodded. She could barely keep herself upright, there was no way she could form words.

Ben smirked down at her as his thumbs grazed the sides of her breasts and Az jumped. "Easy, it's okay" he whispered as he leaned down to capture her lips with his once again.

"I know but, fuck, Ben. I've wanted you all day." Az whined and Ben was certain in that moment there was nothing more attractive than the sound Az breathlessly telling him how badly she wanted him.

"Well, you don't have to wait anymore." He whispered against her lips and Az pressed her lips to his as she gripped his shoulders.

Ben's hands continued their agonizingly slow pace to the front of Az's chest where he realized she wasn't wearing a bra and he let out a groan, "Fuck, Az, I need you."

"Who's the impatient one now?" Az smirked as she nipped at his bottom lip and Ben whined.

"Is there anywhere we can go? Preferably with a bed?"

"Inside, there's a room at the end of the hall."

Ben planted a deep kiss on Az and pulled her down the hall. Az's head was still reeling with how he had just kissed her and was only slightly aware of Ben leading her through the door and down the hall of the boat to one of the bedroom's that was located on board.

Ben turned the knob and let the door swing open as he pressed another kiss to Az's lips. Her hands were clawing at his back and he registered distantly that he might have scratches on there that he would have to explain to Joe.

Not that he cared.

Az fumbled behind her as she kicked the door, briefly hoping it was closed enough. Ben had moved down to kissing her neck and she couldn't think about anything else.

She bent her head back to allow him more access as he nipped at the column of her throat, causing her to release little moans every time that were sending Ben's head spinning.

Az yelped as Ben picked her up, causing her to wrap her legs around his waist instinctively, and he deposited her on the bed where he stared down at her as she pushed herself up to her elbows and stared back. She cocked an eyebrow at him, "What?"

"Nothing, you're just...fuck. You're beautiful."

Az's smile was bashful and she suddenly found it extremely hard to look Ben right in the eye at that moment.

Ben, sensing her shyness leaned down so he was hovering over her body and whispered, "Now's the time when you tell me I'm beautiful."

Az laughed, and remembered this was Ben. Sweet, caring Ben who she had spent all day pining over. She wasn't going to waste another moment getting caught up in her own head.

Ben went back to sucking and licking at Az's neck as one hand reached up underneath her sweatshirt and traced the outline of her breast, causing Az to arch her back.

She whined, "Ben...please."

Ben smirked against her neck, "Please, what?"

"Touch me. Please. I've wanted this all day."

"Hmm, I don't know..."

"Please, sir. I'll do anything." Az breathed out before she could stop herself.

Ben pulled back and stared with wide eyes. Her own eyes were half-lidded as she stared up at him, pupils blown out, cheeks flushed, chest heaving, hips bucking.

Ben cleared his throat, "What-uh-what did you just say?"

A look of worry washed over Az, "Uhm, sir?"

"That's what I thought." he growled.

He leaned down so his lips were right against her ear, "And since my good girl asked so nicely...I guess I'll give her what she wants."

He traced a circle that got smaller and smaller until he was tracing around her nipple as he swung his other leg around so he was straddling her and started to grind his clothed cock into her cunt. Az was only briefly embarrassed thinking about how she could cum from grinding against Ben fully clothed like some pre-pubescent 13-year old.

She babbled. "Please, sir. Yes. Oh my god. Fuck. Ben. Please, I need more."

Ben chuckled, "I've barely touched you. If this is how you're reacting now I can't wait till I tease your little cunt with my fingers, tongue and cock."

"Oh my GOD Ben, please. I need more. Please, I'm begging you."

Ben smirked as he started tweaking her nipple with deft fingers. He brought his other hand up to stroke her throat, testing the waters, "How do you feel about me touching your throat? Do you like that baby girl?"

Az whimpered and nodded as she desperately tried to grind her pussy against Ben's aching cock even more. He hadn't even registered how hard he was. He was so focused on Az and how needy she was, his own needs almost escaped him.

He gently laid a hand over her throat and squeezed the smallest amount which caused Az to throw her head back and let out a moan so loud that Ben was sure every boat in the marina would hear it.

It made his cock twitch.

"That's my good girl." he cooed as he continued to tease her nipple. Az whimpered and reached her hands up in a grabbing motion,

"What is it sweetheart? Use your words."

"Kiss me. Please."

Ben smiled and moved his hand from around her throat to cradle her cheek, "Of course sweetheart." The kiss he gave her was sweet, gentle and deep which caused Az's head to spin even more at the difference between this kiss and his filthy actions. Az wrapped her legs around his waist to bring him as close to her as possible.

Ben chuckled, "You're already so needy."

Az rolled her eyes, "Shut up." and went back in for another kiss.

Their lips moved together as Ben reached his hands down to the edge of Az's sweatshirt and gave it a little tug.

Az pulled away and ripped the sweatshirt off in record time. Ben sat up and stared down at Az's body, finally exposed to him.

"Holy shit."

Az fidgeted under his gaze, "What? Not what you thought?" bracing herself for him to tell her he had changed his mind.

"Never in my wildest dreams could I have imagined you having a body as amazing as the one you have."

He leaned down to wrap his lips around her nipple as his other hand came to play with the one his mouth wasn't currently occupying. Az groaned but couldn't keep the smile off of her face as she reached a hand up to tug at his hair.

Ben switched from one nipple to the other as he glanced up at Az, "Couldn't let the other one feel left out."

"God forbid" Az breathed out as she arched her back after he gave a particularly hard nip.

He chuckled as he came up to plant another kiss on her lips, "Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

Her eyes snapped open as she felt his hands travel down her body, past her breast, where he gave her nipple one more tweak, down her waist, down to the top of her thigh as he danced his fingers up her inner thigh. Teasing her as he brought his fingers close to where she most wanted him.

"Ben..."

His fingers stilled, "What did you call me?"

She whimpered, "Sir..."

"Better." His fingers danced closer to her cunt.

"Sir...please. I need you." Her hips were bucking desperately and Ben looked down at the beautiful woman underneath him and couldn't believe he had gotten so lucky.

He fiddled with the edge of her shorts, as she whined. He smirked and moved to trace the outline of her pussy through her underwear, he took in a sharp intake of air, "Fuck, baby girl. You're soaking wet for me."

Az whined, "That's what you do to me. That's all for you, sir. Please."

Ben groaned as he bent his head down to capture her lips with his as he dipped a finger into her panties and teased the lips of her pussy open.

Her thighs fell open easily as she bucked her hips to get more of his finger inside her. Ben slowly dipped one finger inside of her, when he felt how wet she was, he added a second, and then a third.

Then removed them entirely.

"Baby girl, flip over onto your stomach for me."

Az looked at him curiously but did as she was told, "Like this?" she asked as she looked back at him and bit her lip. Ben groaned and palmed himself through his pants as she looked up at him with her big eyes.

She glanced down at his bulge, "Can I suck your cock?"

Ben almost choked. "Holy fuck sweetheart. You're gonna make me cum if you keep talking like that."

Az giggled and then moaned as Ben thrust his fingers back into her, "I would love for you to suck my cock but first, I really want you to cum for me." He said as he kept thrusting his fingers in and out of her dripping core.

The angle had his fingers hitting her sweet spot right away. He kept palming himself through his jeans. He pumped his fingers slowly into Az's cunt, feeling her walls clench around his fingers, her ass moving up and down as she fucked his fingers, trying to fill herself up more. She whined when Ben ripped his fingers out of her.

"Ben..." She looked behind her and saw that his shirt was off and was making equally quick work of his jeans and boxer briefs. "Take off your pants. Now." he growled as he stepped out of his own, letting his cock spring free. Az was transfixed by it. It was huge. She licked her lips as she saw the pink tip, leaking pre-cum. She groaned as she imagined wrapping her lips around it, making Ben cum down her throat. Swallowing every single drop of his cum as he moaned.

"Baby girl?" Ben's voice broke Az out of her reprieve and she quickly reached her hands down and shimmied out of her panties and shorts and threw them into the room.

She pushed herself up to her hands and knees and stared at Ben over her shoulder, "Well?"

Ben licked his palm and stroked his cock a few times as he admired the view of Az's ass in front of him, her pussy glistening with her wetness.

He licked the fingers that had been in Az's cunt and tasted how sweet she was as he walked forward. He inserted his fingers back into her cunt making her hang her head and groan.

He pumped them in and out a few times and smacked Az's ass, "Lie down on your back."

She yelped but did as she was told. Ben looked into her eyes as she laid down, "I'm so sorry, I should have asked before I spanked you, I'm so sorry-"

Az cut him off with a kiss, "No! No. It was so hot. Sir." She added as she smirked up at him. Ben chuckled as he kissed her lips and moved to kiss down her body.

Az's breath got shallower the closer he got to her pussy. He nipped at the inside of her thighs as he just barely brushed her clit with the tip of his tongue.

Az almost levitated off the bed, "FUCK. BEN. Please!"

Ben chuckled and inserted two fingers into her cunt and started making obscene sucking noises as he sucked on her clit. Az always used to say she didn't understand why people made so much noise during sex but now? With Ben working his magic on her with his fingers and tongue? She didn't know how she could be quiet.

All too soon, she felt the familiar burning sensation in her stomach as she reached her edge, "Ben..Sir.."

He hummed against her clit which made her throw her head back and let loose a new wave of moans, "FUCK. If you do that again, I'm going to cum."

"Cum on my face then. Please." Ben said as he hummed against her clit and made a come hither motion with his fingers causing Az to completely unravel. The heat that had been building inside of her all day consumed her body as her vision went white.

Ben kept lapping until she whimpered and tried to move away, even then he kept slowly pumping his fingers in and out of her.

"Ben, please..." her voice came out as a whisper as she tugged on his hair to indict she wanted him to move up. Ben placed a final sweet kiss on her clit before slowly kissing his way back up her body.

Az let out a deep sigh as she closed her eyes and let the few remaining pulses of pleasure wash over her, relishing in the attention he was bestowing upon her.

Ben paused as he took in Az's body, stretched out below him and whined in the back of his throat.

The green of Az's eyes were revealed as she smirked at the needy sounds that escaped Ben.

She quickly pushed Ben off of her and before he could protest too much she straddled him and bent her head down to nip at the line of his throat which caused him to cry out.

Az giggled, "Does that feel good sir?"

Ben's eyes were rolling into the back of his head as Az's core ground against his exposed cock, he could feel the wetness as he bucked his hips up into her, "God, yes, sweetheart, please that feels amazing, don't stop..."

Ben's voice trailed off as Az started kissing his collarbone, then his chest, then his stomach, when he finally registered what her intentions were, he moaned as his eyes fluttered closed.

Az peered up at him through her lashes and couldn't stop herself from admiring how beautiful he looked. Eyelashes resting on his cheeks, chest heaving, cheeks the color of an English rose and his eyes...were staring right at her as she placed a soft kiss onto his cock.

He whined and Az's hips bucked involuntarily at the noise. She smiled up at him and he reached a hand down to caress her cheek.

She hummed and pressed a kiss into his palm. She turned her head back to the more important, and pressing, task at hand.

She kissed Ben's thighs as he threw his head back and sighed in ecstasy.

In between kisses, Az teased "I've barely touched you and you're already this needy."

Only a sliver of blue could be seen as she looked up at Ben, "If I wasn't so desperate for you to suck my cock, I would have a much better comeback" he breathed out in between moans.

Az smirked and curled her fingers around his cock as she licked her lips in anticipation.

Ben was huge. She shouldn't have been surprised, Lop had even said he carried himself with an energy that seemed to imply he was hung, but god.

She wrapped one hand loosely around his cock and licked a wide stripe from his balls to the tip where she placed a gentle kiss on it.

The groan Ben let out had her swinging a leg around so she could grind her core into Ben's thigh as she continued licking his cock.

She finally, agonizingly slowly, wrapped her lips around the head of Ben's cock and started to bob her head up and down.

Ben reached his hands down to grasp her hair and move it out of her face.

Az spit on his cock and started working her hands up and down as she peered up at Ben, "Thanks for the hair tie."

Ben bucked his hips up into her hands as he gasped, "Not so much for you, mainly wanted to see your lips wrapped around my cock. Been thinking about that all day."

Az laughed and kept one hand pumping the length that she couldn't fit into her mouth. She looked up at Ben through her eyelashes and heard him mutter, "Fuck. Having your lips around me is even hotter than I imagined."

Az hummed and Ben screamed, "FUCK" and pulled her off of his cock, mashing his lips against hers in a frenzy, "If I don't fuck you now I'm going to hate myself forever."

Az laughed gently against his lips, "Well, we can't have that now, can we?"

Ben nipped at her bottom lip as he brought a hand up to lightly smack her ass, "Someone seems to have forgotten their place, baby girl."

Az whimpered as she felt the sting, "I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"Damn right," Ben said and stilled as his eyes met Az's with concern, "I don't have any condoms on me. Are there any on this boat?"

Az pressed a kiss to his cheek, "I have an IUD. It's fine. Just, please fuck me right now. Please? I'm begging you."

Ben exhaled and grabbed Az's hips with such strength that Az knew for certain there'd be bruises the next day.

Az clambered on top of him and lined up her entrance to the tip of Ben's cock, she slowly lowered down and the feel of her walls being stretched by his girth had her letting loose a string of curses that were almost drowned out by Ben's.

"Fuck, Ben, you're so big, god." Az squeezed her eyes shut as she bottomed out.

Ben squeezed her hips as he took every ounce of willpower not to buck up into her and fuck her until all she could say was his name, "Jesus, sweetheart, you feel incredible. This is so much more amazing than I ever could have imagined."

Az let out a shaky laugh as she started to roll her hips forward and back. Getting used to Ben's length, working it over. Ben couldn't take his eyes off her as Az's hips started rocking harder and harder against his cock.

He reached his hands up and grasped her breasts, rolling her nipples in between his fingers as Az threw her head back and let out a moan. Ben didn't think there was a better view in the entire world than this one.

Az reached a hand down to rub her clit as she rocked her hips back and forth and Ben's hips snapped up into her as his hands worked on her nipples. She felt her core tightening and that familiar warmth start building inside her for the second time.

She gasped, "Ben...sir...Ben..I'm so close, fuck, please don't stop, please"

Ben growled, "I don't plan on stopping any time soon, sweetheart."

Az moaned as she rubbed her clit harder and finally with a tweak of her nipples, Az felt herself coming undone around Ben's cock.

As she came out of her haze she could hear Ben babbling about how good she was, how tight she was, how he wanted to cum so badly. Az slowly leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ben's lips, causing him to pause in his actions.

She pulled back and smiled at him and he smiled at her. He gently stroked her sides, then grabbed on to her waist and flipped them over so Az's back hit the bed with a "OOF" and Ben ended up on top, hands on either side of her head.

He grinned down at her as she rubbed her hands up and down his arms, "Think you're so special huh?"

Ben's grin grew wider as he snapped his hips into her and Az broke down into moans and strained to get more of his cock inside of her. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Yeah, I like to think so."

"Please. Just fuck me."

Ben breathed out a laugh, "You don't have to ask twice." And started thrusting into Az as she grasped onto his shoulders, arching her back.

Ben could feel his thrusts getting sloppy and knew he was close. He reached a hand down and rubbed Az's clit, "Baby girl, think you got one more in you? I want you to cum with me."

Az nodded as her eyes rolled into the back of her head, "Uh-huh, yes sir, please, I want to cum again so badly, please please please please..." the last please fell on deaf ears as Az reached her climax for the third time. Her walls clenched around Ben's cock, pulling the best orgasm he'd ever had in his life out of him shooting thick, hot ropes of cum into her pussy as they both moaned and held onto each other as if they were life rafts keeping each other afloat.

Ben opened his eyes as he and Az caught their breath. They looked at each other and burst into laughter as they came down from their highs.

"Wow, uh, that was-"

"Amazing?" Ben asked, shyly.

Az's eyes grew warm as she brought a hand up to caress his cheek, "Yeah. Definitely worth the wait."

"Well, sorry. I didn't want to assume you wanted this as badly as I did." Ben whispered as he gazed down at Az with a soft look in his eyes

"Hmm, yes. Because a man who looks like a Greek god and can also make me cum THREE TIMES is clearly someone I don't want anything to do with." Az joked as she pulled Ben's face down to give him a gentle kiss.

Ben rolled his eyes as Az giggled. Which turned into a whimper as he pulled his cock out of her and he chuckled when he saw her pout, "Alright love. None of that. I'll be right back."

Az sighed and stretched out on the bed. She heard water running in the bathroom and Ben emerged with a warm washcloth.

He sat on the bed next to her and gently pulled her knees apart as he cleaned her up. Az smiled her thanks as Ben returned to the bathroom to clean himself up.

He walked out and saw Az had gotten underneath the covers, as he pulled back the covers he smiled, "Is this spot taken?"

A slow grin split her her face as she shook her head and patted the spot next to her.

Ben clambered into bed beside her and when he opened his arms wide, Az snuggled right into them. She sighed contentedly as Ben placed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

As they both drifted off to sleep, they both thanked the star they had wished on for making their dream come true.

High above, the star they had both wished on, seemed to shine a little brighter as it hung right above the sleeping couple.

~~~

Rich woke up the next morning with a headache, the feeling that he had fuzz all over his tongue and the need to never consumer alcohol ever again. He groaned as he sat up and saw Joe, who was snoring louder than a man that size should, was still sleeping.

Rich stretched and slowly made his way to the bathroom. As he finished up and walked back out to the living room, he peered into Az's bedroom and saw her bed was empty. He shrugged, Az usually got up early so he figured she was already out on her boat.

After making coffee and taking it out onto Az's porch, he saw her boat still in the port with no sign of activity. He cocked his head, mentally going through a list of places she could be at.

His feet were heavy as he meandered down he dock. When he got closer to the large boat, he had arrived on the other day, he saw that the door on the uppermost floor wasn't closed all the way. Grumbling about how Joe would make a terrible captain, he lumbered aboard to take care of it.

After closing the first door, Rich did a quick sweep of the other areas to make sure everything was good to go to take Joe and Ben back out on the boat today. If Joe could stomach being on a boat after drinking so much. As he reached the floor by the uppermost deck he saw the bedroom door open at the end of the floor with light coming through it.

He crept closer and peered through the crack. He saw Az and Ben, both sound asleep, Az curled up into Ben's chest, Ben's arms wrapped tightly around her waist.

Rich slapped a hand over his mouth and sprinted back to Az's apartment, pumping his fist the whole way.

He quickly dug his phone out of the recliner cushions and texted Lop a million exclamation points, peach emojis and eggplant emojis.

Almost immediately Lop texted back, "I fucking knew it."

Rich laughed as he crept back downstairs, leaving the lovers to wake up in each others arms and to thank their lucky star.

#ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy one shot #ben hardy smut #joe mazzello #original character #OC #original female character #original male character #ben jones fic #ben hardy fic #ben jones smut #ben jones oneshot #boats #i want a BF who sails so badly fuck #ben hardy x reader #ben jones x reader #joe mazzello fic

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antiquatus · 5 years ago

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✧ ━━ the courts of switzerland present GIULIO DE MEDICI of THE PAPAL STATES, a CARDINAL of THE CATHOLIC CHURCH. the THIRTY-THREE year old had been LEARNED and CHARITABLE before the break of war but have now become RUTHLESS and ZEALOUS. HE is often remembered by their likeness to JAMES NORTON and THE SMELL OF INCENSE IN HIGH-CEILINGED CATHEDRALS AS THE SOUND OF LATIN ENUNCIATIONS SPILL FORTH FROM HIS LIPS ; A RED GALERO TO KEEP THE GLARE OF THE SUN AWAY , WHICH NONETHELESS SPARKLES OFF A BEJEWELED PECTORAL CROSS ; and ANTIQUATED TEXTS SMUGGLED AWAY FOR PERSONAL PLEASURE . the rumor mills of europe claim that his allegiance lies with THE CHURCH and that he is for WAR.

yes, hello, i am henry ( twenty, gmt+8, they/them ) and this is my bastard supreme catholic crusader-king wannabe : giulio michele cardinal de medici, archbishop of esztergom and cardinal of the ( one, holy, catholic, and apostolic and bigoted ) church. here is his about page , his biography ( which is basically just the headcanons section of the app ) , some wanted connections, and ( if you care to read a whole buncha words ) here’s the whole application. read down the cut if you want it summarised + the first task! :) if u wanna plot, send me a dm @ i am a mushroom! 🍄#9146 or hmu here on tumblr ims.

content warning for usual mediaeval church brand of bigotry + mentions of: disordered eating, scrupulosity, obsessive-compulsive tendencies

SUMMARY

hhhhhhhhh

crusader-king wannabe, what else do u need 2 know?

hashtag only 1099 kids will remember

CHARACTER SHEET

BASIC INFORMATION

FULL NAME : giulio michele de medici

MEANING :

giulio — from latin, a cognate of julius, the meaning of which is irrelevant, as it was chosen more to invoke julius caesar

michele — italian form of michael, meaning who is like god?

de medici — medici, plural form of medico, meaning doctor, physician

MONIKERS / NICKNAMES : giulio, papabile

TITLE :

commander of several abbeys, scattered throughout the italian peninsula (multiple dates to present)

administrator of bozen (1538 to present)

archbishop of esztergom-budapest (1540 to present)

cardinal of the roman catholic church (1544 to present)

prelate of the roman inquisition (1550 to present)

vice-camerlengo of the apostolic camera (1556 to present)

GENDER & PRONOUNS : listen... he’s actually Agender but do u rlly expect the church/himself to like... accept anything beyond the gender binary... that being said, the imago dei is inclusive and also inherently non-binary so... there is that... (one day, giulio...... one day...........) — pronouns are he/him

ETHNICITY : white

DATE OF BIRTH & AGE: 25th december 1526, thirty-three

ZODIAC SIGN : capricorn sun / virgo moon / sagittarius rising

ORIENTATION : do u know that playlist in spotify that’s just like is this sufjan stevens song gay or just about god? ... yeah, like that exactly.

MARITAL STATUS : married to the LORD

OCCUPATION : cardinal, archbishop, crusader LARPer

CURRENT LOCATION :

switzerland...?

BACKGROUND

PLACE OF BIRTH : florence, tuscany

RESIDENCES :

basilica cattedrale metropolitana di santa maria nascente, milan, lombardy villa d’este, tivoli, lazio

RELIGIOUS VIEWS : roman catholicism, somewhat of a catholic mystic in the vein of pseudo-dionysius, hildegard von bingen, and meister eckhart (hashtag eckhart did nothing wrong!!!)

EDUCATION : private tutoring, ecclesiastical catechism, autodidact in a great deal many things

LANGUAGES SPOKEN : italian, latin, ancient greek, hungarian, bulgarian, serbian, russian, arabic, hebrew, french, german, spanish, english, old church slavonic

ALLEGIANCES : the church & himself (to him? there is no difference)

the house of de medici: only nominally loyal, he thinks there are far better things to pay attention to than temporal matters such as these

the one holy catholic and apostolic church: his #1 bae

FAMILY :

papa & mama medici: parents

piero de medici, older brother

francesco de medici, younger brother

giovanna de medici, younger sister

OTHER FAMILIAL RELATIONS :

—

APPEARANCE

FACECLAIM : james norton

HAIR COLOUR / STYLE : i’m so mad abt this... but yes... he has a tonsure... press F in the chat pls // though he has stopped shearing his hair in switzerland

EYE COLOUR / SHAPE : blue, and idk... eye-shaped?

HEIGHT : 1.85m / 6′1″

BUILD : fluctates: for reasons specified in the neurological conditions section below, this isn’t very consistent; however, if this was modern day, redditors would just spam him with “delete facebook, hit the gym, lawyer up!!!!”

SPEECH STYLE : mellifluous to the point of inane verbosity, uses more words than he should; that being said, he possesses the uncanny ability to pick up a language easily and quickly, inserting local colloquialisms to the point that he sounds like a native speaker; nevertheless, he consistently speaks in a formal register (sometimes! even to family members!) and has a very blunted affect, diminishing the effect if only slightly

RECOGNIZABLE MARKINGS : n/a

BEAUTY HABITS : for a mediaeval european, he is actually very hygienic; takes baths obsessively, definitely more than once a week, which does link to his fixation with purity both metaphysical and temporal; hates public bathhouses with a passion; combs his hair and parts it to the side, favouring his left

PERSONALITY

TROPES : the chessmaster, bookworm, our angels are different, knight templar, lack of empathy, lonely rich kid, affably evil, & raised catholic (duh).

INSPIRATIONS : lenny belardo (the young pope), crusader kings ii (the game), pope julius ii (history), adso (the name of the rose), john the beloved (history, the bible), jacopo belbo (foucault’s pendulum), henry winter (the secret history), the prince (the prince, niccolo macchiaveli)

MBTI : intj-t (the architect)

ENNEAGRAM: 5w4 1w9 4w3 (the researcher) sp/sx

ALIGNMENT : lawful good, insofar as goodness is aligned to catholicism

TEMPERAMENT : choleric but perhaps more arguably a choleric-sanguine hybrid

HOGWARTS HOUSE : slytherin

POSITIVE TRAITS : charitable (to catholics), brilliant, prodigious

NEGATIVE TRAITS : manipulative, narcissistic, self-serving, self-righteous

HABITS : has a tendency to fidget his fingers; gnaws on his lower lip to the point of bleeding when thinking, not that he realises it

HOBBIES : reading, writing, playing this new thing called chess

USUAL DEMEANOR : affable to the point of boring people, charming to catholics but cooler against non-catholics, somewhat easy to talk to but one has the niggling feeling that he’s not as invested in the conversation as he should be, people hear the word cardinal and thinks he’s bigoted to the extreme (which he is) but he always deflects and he can be agreeable (but probably slips by still calling istanbul constantinople though!), very learned and nerdy and will talk about theology all the goddamn day if nobody stops him, presents as a very non-threatening (affably bland) cardinal who albeit has very fixed opinions about All The Things

HEALTH

PHYSICAL AILMENTS : n/a

NEUROLOGICAL CONDITION : thinks of himself and presents as neurotypical but probably has szpd (schizoid personality disorder), a form of scrupulosity in the vein of alissa (in strait is the gate by andré gide); also arguably has some form of disordered eating, cycling between binging and extreme fasting, which gives him a weight leaning toward lanky

PHOBIAS : haphephobia, fear of touch; his scrupulosity can also be arguably defined as a phobia of sinning, but that’s basically a whole other complex

ALLERGIES : allergic to SIN!!!! n/a

SLEEPING HABITS : an insomniac, though he thinks it a common affliction; has a habit of reading until late as a way of staving off boredom; may sleep a grand total of only three to four hours at nighttime, though he makes up for it through a post-lunch siesta (which is a habit he picked up from the pope)

SOCIABILITY : presents as a social butterfly, if albeit sterner than most; can slip into conversations of any kind easily, but always ever in a professional context; has no real friends, but can lay claim to easy acquaintanceships; forever holding people at an arm’s length, which is just the way he likes it

ADDICTIONS : drinks the communion wine more often than he should; other than that, he can be almost puritanically temperate, to the point of self-affliction (?); addicted to the idea of purity

#bgintro #'but henry cigs weren't even a Thing in the 1500s!' ye i know but also this was Aesthetic ok let me live

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jamesmarlowe · 5 years ago

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『ANTON THIEMKE ❙ CIS-MALE』 ⟿ looks like JAMES MARLOWE is here for HIS SENIOR year as a FINE ARTS student. He is 21 years old & known to be CLEVER, INVENTIVE, UNRELIABLE & EGOTISTICAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ SLOTH. 25. EST. SHE/HER.

hi hello welcome 2 my twisted mind ☺️ marlowe is a character i’m still fine-tuning bc he’s brand-new, so this is unfortunately.... a bit of a mess.... and mostly made up on the spot.... c’est la vie!!

(a late addition but u can also peep his weheartit collection here 4 some vibes)

his government name is james marlowe but he only goes by marlowe & only introduces himself as marlowe like he’s madonna or sting.... most ppl who know him (apart from like close friends) probably don’t even know what his first name is. maybe he doesn’t have one!

hails from Appalachia, specifically a trailer park in a poor-as-dirt stretch of Virginia where he was born n raised, baby. he’s Appalachian white trash and not afraid to admit it. marlowe’s very casual about his upbringing and his dumpster fire of a family (no less than three relatives are currently incarcerated, one of which is his older brother who’s probably serving a minor sentence for whatever dumb shit Tim Riggins got got for in FNL or like, selling illegal fireworks out of his trunk :/ ). the only thing he’s a little self-conscious about is his twang which he’s mostly suppressed by now, but other than that, he’s got no shame in where he comes from bc lbr no authentic artist ever came from money anyway!

born sandwiched in the middle of five siblings, marlowe’s always been wild and creative and impulsive, a loud-mouthed kid with too much to say for his own good, prone 2 getting in trouble but learning absolutely nothing from it. it was his mission in life to be Different from all the other kids who grew up where he grew up, with the way he talked, dressed, acted, because he knew that he was destined for bigger n better things so it was just a matter of getting other ppl to believe it, & then seeing how far a little talent and a lot of charisma would take him >:)

from age 8 onwards, he told people he was an “artist” and that became his primary identity. when he was 16 he completed an independent sculpture project (called “Skyscraper”) where he constructed a 20-foot tower made out of junk collected from around the trailer park and then glued Barbies n other dolls all clawing over each other to get to the top, smack dab in the middle of Main Street and refused to take it down even when the local fire department showed up 2 threaten him with fines. it did eventually get taken down bc it was ‘structurally unsound’ and someone nearly got concussed by a falling mannequin head, but at least it got some attention from local newspapers and w/ that as the crown jewel in his portfolio, marlowe got into a few different art/liberal arts schools the following year. radcliffe was the only one who offered a partial scholarship and the east coast sounded nice n far from home, so anyways lets go ✈️ college

FAST FORWARD its senior year babey and marlowe’s been making the most of his time here at radcliffe. he’s a fine arts major but specializes in mixed media sculptures (and probably is really shit at most of his other classes, like art theory where u actually have to read textbooks? still life drawing? boring. yawn. won’t do it.) his entire profile as an artist i’m cribbing from Rachel Harrison bc I saw her exhibition at the whitney a little while ago and her sculptures made me go ?????¿¿¿¿¿ which i think is exactly the kind of bizarre nonsense that marlowe is going for with his “art”. feast your eyes on these masterpieces. the joke of it all is that marlowe is the first to admit that his art isn’t like.... good. but his philosophy is that if people respond to it & praise it like it’s art, then by definition, it’s art. and if it gets him places (like it got him onto Cultured Magazine’s “30 Young Artists To Watch This Decade″ list), then yeehaw!

When he’s not busy creating new monstrosities, marlowe takes one fat nap per day (usually at a time when he has class) and is otherwise a very social creature who needs constant attention. he’s got a lot of friends and is always looking to make more, not in a #fake way but just as a person who genuinely likes being around people. he very quickly gets bored if left on his own, so he’s prone to following people around campus like a stray cat regardless of whether or not they tell him to shoo. he dorms at Noland but is almost always found in other houses, often crashing in other people’s rooms (needs to be close to his friends or He’ll Die), and he definitely frequents parties, bc marlowe never passes up an opportunity to drink other people’s booze and get a lil messy and Chaotic. he’s [jim halpert voice] not a slut, but who knows? he’s kinda a slut! he’s also definitely pulled another stunt similar to Skyscraper by taking over the quad for a guerrilla art installation with his sculptures (and without the school’s permission oops) which may be the basis for some connections if ppl know him from that particular exploit!!

in summary..... marlowe can be a bit up his own ass at times, but being around him is generally a Good Time bc he’s easy-going and friendly and always down for anything, always. litcherally zero impulse control so nothing gets in the way of a dumb idea that might potentially make for a good story. perhaps he’s not the most reliable person, so don’t expect a prompt text back if ur in a life or death situation, and he doesn’t care very much about anything, so ur setting urself up for disappointment if you do expect him to care about something (the fact that he’s never been in a long-term relationship... very telling). all he wants to do is just have! fun all the time! he’s trying to scam his way into the American Dream with his dumb art, so that he can live a good life and maybe get rich and famous and eventually party at Art Basel in Miami with Frank Ocean! is that really so much to ask!

appearance: marlowe’s very vain and a lot of thought goes into his appearance even when (especially when) it doesn’t look like he’s done anything but roll straight out of bed. all of his outfits are as outrageous as his sculptures are ugly. think mismatched prints and loud colors, silk shirts gaping open like he got tired after the first three buttons, a pawn’s shop worth of jewelry, weird dangly earrings w/ feathers or tiny charms, tinted yellow or pink sunglasses, sometimes a bandana around his neck, just for extra flavor. his hair always has to look perfectly tousled; u can catch him checking out his reflection in pretty much every mirrored surface. at least half the surface area of his body is covered in tattoos & he’ll suggest getting more during every drunken night out, which... is why he has so many by now!

connections: to be quite honest its 2 am and i feel all of my higher brain functions shutting down so i’m gonna make these very simple n straightforward, but we can always workshop!!!! pls feel free to message me even if none of these strike ur fancy :0)

peers in the arts - friends, acquaintances, rivals, probably some former group project members holding a grudge....

fellow party animals who don’t mind sharing when marlowe inevitably mooches off their alcohol and drugs :)

unlikely friends!!!!! it’d be fun to have a friendship dynamic with someone who’s very different from him!!

a roommate in Noland... possibly one he’s not on good terms w/... even tho marlowe hardly EVER sleeps in his own dorm room, he uses it as a storage locker for all his “found” art materials. i can imagine that living in that mess would try the limits of anyone’s sanity :)

enemies - they can hate his whole Genius Artist shtick and they’d be valid :/

fellow insomniacs! marlowe is very much a night owl (regular naps during the day may be 2 blame but oh well) so he needs a fellow nocturnal to hit up the late-night McDonald’s drive thru with him and then lay on the grass lookin at the stars and contemplating life’s great mysteries while eating chicken mcnuggets

exes - idk if u can even call them tht when his past “relationships” have all had a lifespan of six weeks or less, but hey there’s drama in that too!!

fwb - i don’t think marlowe’s the type 2 be juggling too many fwb/hook-ups at one time simply because That’s A Lot of Work. that being said... he never likes to sleep alone ;)

#radintro #im working on some gif icons but full disclosure.... they gon be sparse and shitty!#so instead we have this pic where it looks like he passed out on a lawn and woke up w/ shit scribbled all over his face #and u know what? on brand #anyways plot w/ me!!!!!!#about

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antspaul · 5 years ago

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happy holidays @lollercakesff !!! I wrote you a fic! I hope you enjoy it ~ and have a wonderful holiday season!

I am posting the fic here, as well as on ao3, as it’s a little long (~10k).

charity (who is helping who?)

Summary: AU in which Anne is a little more poor but just as vivacious while Gilbert is a lot more wealthy and a little more cowardly.

Based somewhat loosely on the book Daddy Long Legs, written in 1912 by Jean Webster. There’s a movie with Fred Astaire and a wonderful musical based on the book. I always thought that Jerusha, the main character, was very reminiscent of Anne. The title comes from the song “Charity” from the musical.

PART I.

13 July 1899

Dear Ms. Shirley-Cuthbert,

I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected to receive a full scholarship to the University of Toronto. This scholarship allows deserving young men and women invested in the arts to attend college in pursuit of strengthening their craft. You were selected on the basis of your imaginative and enjoyable writing, which the University hopes that you will pursue once on campus.

The scholarship will cover your tuition and board for the four years it will take you to earn your Bachelor of Arts, provided to you from a very generous benefactor. There is also a small account in your name that will provide for your books. The funds in this account are stable and will not be replenished, so you are advised to spend very wisely. All additional details about your award are on the attached page.

In order to keep your scholarship, you will write your benefactor letters, at least once per month throughout your tenure at the University of Toronto, informing him of your progress, both academic and creative. Your benefactor will remain anonymous, and you may only address him as “Mr. Smith.” The address is provided below. You may use your book account to purchase postage, if necessary.

Congratulations once again. We at the University of Toronto will see you come fall.

Alastair Pendleton

Director of Financial Aid and Scholarships

University of Toronto

1 September 1901

To my magnificent benefactor,

I am sorry but I cannot address you as “Mr. Smith”, not when you have changed my life for the better in such a profound way. I can hardly believe that scarcely two months ago I was lamenting my future stuck on the farm and now I am here at the University of Toronto, ready to learn all there is to know in the world! And I have you to thank.

Please don’t think that I’m an ungrateful child. I truly appreciate everything that everyone has done for me. Until six years ago I lived the sorrowful life of the unwanted child that I was. You see, Mr. Smith, my parents died when I was only three months old. Does knowing I’m an orphan make you think less of me? I hope it doesn’t. I imagine a man as generous and kind as you wouldn’t care. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be giving charity to poor girls such as I.

Anyway, I lived in an orphanage, among other places, until I was thirteen and the most wonderful people in the world adopted me! Their names are Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert and they are brother and sister. I lived with them on a farm on Prince Edward Island. Have you ever been to Prince Edward Island, Mr. Smith? If you haven’t, you must go. I am quite certain it is the most breathtaking beautiful and splendid place on the planet.

I was told when I spoke to Mr. Pendleton in person that you don’t need to know anything about my life beyond my schooling and my writing. But since I will likely be mentioning Matthew and Marilla quite frequently, I thought that I would tell you who they were.

Will you be reading these letters? On the long train ride to Toronto, I thought long and hard about what I would do if I were a mysterious, filthy rich old man giving heaps of money to farm girls who couldn’t otherwise afford college. After a while I just gave up because I am not any of those things and could simply not put myself in your shoes. Marilla always berates me for my vanity, which leads me to think that I could not remain anonymous for very long. My opinion doesn’t matter, of course, but I do hope you read my letters. I intend to pour every speck of gratitude towards you that I possess onto these pages.

What is there left to talk about? Classes don’t start until tomorrow. I know that you wanted to know about my academics, but there isn’t any to talk about yet. I wanted to draft my first letter to you before homework became too overwhelming. Would you like to hear about my friends? My friendships certainly count as personal, but since I will mention them in the future as well, I will introduce them now.

My best friend and roommate is Diana Barry. Oh, how to describe Diana! She is the most dearest girl in the world. I met her when I had just arrived in Avonlea and immediately recognized her as a kindred spirit. Sharing a room with Diana is a dream come true! Her parents are rigid and close-minded. Perhaps I shouldn’t have written that because they are also very rich and seem to know every other rich person in North America. I don’t mean to be harsh but I’ve seen them make her cry enough times that I think I am entitled to my opinion of them.

Ruby Gillis is my second best friend. She’s also from Avonlea. She’s a wonderfully nice girl, maybe too nice for her own good. Ruby lacks imagination, perhaps, but sometimes an imagination as big as mine, I have found, can be a burden, as when you can imagine a beautiful future it sometimes leaves the present looking grayer than ever.

Who else is there to mention? Jane Andrews is the only other girl from home who also got in to U of T (University of Toronto, as I’m sure you know — writing it like that gives me such a thrill!) but I doubt I’ll be seeing her much, as she’s taken residence with her aunt and uncle in town. I’ve also met some new girls and we’ve become fast friends. Their names are Priscilla Grant, Stella Maynard, and Philippa Gordon. As I have just come to know them, I can’t tell you much except I can already tell they are kindred spirits. It’s just something you feel. I feel that we are kindred spirits, too, Mr. Smith.

I apologize if this letter has gone on too long, or if it’s not the type of letter you wanted me to send you. The letters that come from my desk usually go to someone I know very well, like my friend Cole or Diana’s Aunt Josephine.

Oh, those are two others I’m sure to mention a lot — Cole is an artist and is the kindest, most gentle soul I have ever come across. Aunt Josephine is a rich old lady who is a sort of parent to Cole. Perhaps you know her, though when I asked Aunt Jo if she was acquainted with an old rich man who sends orphan girls to college to be writers, she said she knew of none.

All that is to say that I don’t know who you are or what sort of person you are but I vow with all of the strength in my heart to do my very best to write these letters well.

Until next month!

Your eternally grateful friend,

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S.: I know you insist on remaining anonymous, but if I were to receive some sort of occasional acknowledgement that you are getting my letters, that would be more than welcome. I only thought I’d let you know.

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

21 April 1902

To my beloved benefactor,

I have not been able to stop smiling all week! Priscilla tells me I look crazed, with this Cheshire grin stretching across my face but I simply can’t contain myself and it’s all because of you! I don’t know how you found out that it was my birthday last week but your gift came just in time. My handwriting has never looked more beautiful than it does underneath the words “FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT.” Just seeing it on my table sends a thrill down my spine knowing you so thoughtfully ordered this for me yourself. How I wish you would have sent some sort of personal note with it. I know you have never answered my questions before, no matter how many I have asked. I am sorry to tell you that you’ll just have to deal with it as I can’t help but want to know you. Can you really blame me?

Classes are going much the same as in my last letter. I retook my geometry test and did much better, I am happy to report, due to Phil’s untiring help with studying. I even started to draft some short stories that I have been thinking about, though I find it difficult to put aside the time to write them as my studies keep me more than busy.

Here, Mr. Smith, is where I get more personal so if you still feel obliged to ignore ramblings about my social life skip to the end of the letter now.

As you know my birthday was last Thursday. Priscilla, Stella, Phil, Ruby, and Diana decided to surprise me and take me out for dinner! They escorted me to the most charming and expensive restaurant within five miles of our boarding house. At first I felt overwhelming unprepared and underdressed for such a formal occasion, sure that I stuck out like a sore thumb around all of the elegant ladies and gentlemen dining nearby. But soon the waiter brought out course after course of wonderful, delicious food and we were having such a pleasurable time that any insecurity slipped my mind completely. For a moment it seemed that nothing at all could tarnish such an impeccable moment!

But of course as soon as this thought entered my mind Gilbert Blythe showed up to ruin the dinner. As I have not yet mentioned Gilbert to you (that I remember, at least) here is all you need to know about him: he did something terribly humiliating to me when we first met in school at age thirteen and I have never forgiven him for it since. If he had left it at that we would be on better terms now but soon after he left Avonlea and on the few occasions we’ve seen each other since he has made a routine of offending me similarly. So as you can see why his presence at my special birthday dinner was less than welcome.

Perhaps, had I not known what kind of person Gilbert is, it would have offended me less when he sent a bottle of wine over to our table and offered to pay for my meal. But no doubt he only intended to flaunt his wealth before us like some peacock parading its feathers! He likely thought we would struggle to afford our meal. I have no aversion to certain types of charity, Mr. Smith, as you know, but his assumptions, and that inappropriate bottle of wine, nearly had me storming out of the restaurant in a rage. Diana and Ruby calmed me down and we politely but sternly declined his offer to the waiter. I didn’t see Gilbert’s reaction but I wish I had seen the smugness drop from his face.

It was a thoroughly exhausting affair. Emotionally, of course.

22 April 1901

I’m sorry for the interruption. I heard Diana call for me and it sounded quite urgent— a bouquet of flowers, it turns out, had arrived at the front door and were addressed to me. Thinking they were a belated birthday gift I readily accepted them. Imagine my surprise when the note inside revealed they were from Gilbert Blythe himself! I wanted to scream from the nerve of him and throw the flowers out but they were still quite beautiful so Ruby convinced me to keep them. The note on the inside wished me a happy birthday and apologized for his impertinence on my birthday. It almost made me regret writing those harsh things about him above. Almost.

Anyway, Mr. Smith, this is where my personal ramblings end if you don’t care to read them. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you that I spoke to one of the instructors here about my stories and she said they sounded promising and recommended that I submit one to the University literary journal! I might get published before the end of the term, if all goes well! If you care to read my work, I’ve attached the first four pages of a recent story to this letter.

Yours,

19 year-old Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, soon-to-be published author

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

5 February 1902

To my dear but frustratingly mysterious benefactor,

Can you believe it’s been a year and a half since I found out that you had selected me for the scholarship? I can’t. Since this letter will likely be incredibly short (examinations are upon us and will start soon, so I have little time to write) I wanted to start this letter by offering my undying thanks to you. So here it is: thank you, thank you, THANK YOU! And I’m so horribly mortified that I wrote to you in the manner that I did in my January letter. At the time I felt horribly unsympathetic to the wealthy and took out my frustrations on you. I wish every wealthy person were as kind as you. I suppose I really don’t know how kind you are but something tells me you are wonderfully nice.

Classes here are going well. I’ve said it before but I love being a sophomore! I finally feel like I truly belong at the University of Toronto. As much as I love Avonlea— have you visited yet? — I’m equally glad to be exploring the world on my own. As stressful as exams are, I love being at school. Even though I’ve been to only a few places in my life living in a city as large as Toronto makes each new day an adventure. I could explore this city for years and still find new nooks and crannies.

Since time is running short, here are several quick updates:

Ruby is still considering dropping out. Diana and I desperately try everyday to convince her not to, but our pleas seem to have done nothing to change her mind. It will be sad but not totally unsurprising to see her leave.

Ever since Aunt Josephine intervened with Diana’s parents, she has more confidently pursued her music. If you’re ever interested in hearing beautiful songs played on the piano then she plays a concert once a month. You could come and I wouldn’t even know you were there! It would be worth it, I promise.

Stella, Phil, and Priscilla are doing fine as well! Priscilla gets herself into trouble for pulling pranks on our new house matron, but scoldings never seem to bother her. Beautiful Philippa frustratingly has no shortage of suitors willing to do anything for her. It’s maddening in a funny sort of way to watch them trip over themselves to impress her as she pays them barely any notice at all.

What else? I have started to write for the newspaper! Just as I did in school. I will put in the envelope my very first story. It’s only a little book review but seeing my name in print gives me the same thrill as it did last spring when my story was published. I hope this time my writing will be met with less harsh criticism.

Well, that’s all I can think of to say today. I’ll try to send a longer letter next week if I can.

Faithfully,

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. I forgot to ask— if it isn’t too much trouble could you send me more stationery? I’m almost out of the paper that you sent me for my birthday.

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

10 May 1903

My deeply appreciated benefactor,

I deeply apologize for the time it took me to write you this letter. I'm also sorry for how many of my letters start out with an apology. I realize it's been more than a month since I sent my last correspondence. Can it be called correspondence if you never write back? You've sent me gifts, which I cherish with all of my soul, but never once have you sent me a single word back. After three years you'd think I would just resign myself to the fact that all you'll ever be to me is a mystery shrouded in enigma, albeit one I'm relentlessly grateful for. But if you know anything about me by now, Mr. Smith, as you should if you've read any of my letters, is that I am as stubborn as a mule. Every person I've ever worked for or belonged to has said as much.

As I wrote that above paragraph I've realized that some of my words to you could be considered rude. Would you mind terribly if I apologized again? It's just that this week has been one of the worst I have ever experienced. May I tell you about it? I suppose one of the good things about never hearing back from you is that you will never tell me I can't.

As I write this it's Friday, and the dreadfulness started Monday. What makes everything seem worse is that the weekend was so wonderful. Ruby came for a visit, sporting gifts for all of us from her and Moody's recent visit to America. Seeing her glowing face (I think she may be expecting but if she is, I doubt she knows herself) and hearing about how happy she and her new husband are softened the blow of her departure from school last year and everyone had a delightful time. Then she boarded the train back to the Maritimes Monday morning and everything seemed to put on a shade of gray.

For the rest of the day both me and Diana were terribly irritable in our sadness to see her go. Our crossness culminated that night when Diana and I had a horrible argument. I can barely recall how it started— I think that I made some offhand comment disparaging Gilbert and she jumped to his rescue, and everything devolved from there. We were shouting horrible things at each other that should never be said out loud, things we didn't truly mean but hurt regardless. We haven't spoken since and though I know we are both regretful I don't know how to approach her and I think she feels the same. Our friendship isn't over, at least, but I yearn for normalcy. Concentrating in class has proved near impossible, even in the classes Diana and I don't share, because I'm so distracted by my guilt and shame.

To make matters worse, yesterday I checked my mail at the post office and what would be there but not one, but TWO rejection letters from literary magazines. I was reading them up in a secluded tree behind the library, thinking I was alone. The first was firm but polite in their rejection. We regret to inform you that we will not be accepting your work at this time, but please submit more work in the future. The kind of dismissal that comes with an impermanent sting. The next, however, was clearly more personal. The letter described my writing as infantile, superfluous, and shallow— I starting crying on the spot. In my twenty-one years of life, I've been on the receiving end of much harsh criticism, coming from my peers, my teachers, even those I considered my friends. I often turned to writing as a way of comfort and solace in those moments. The thought that I wasn't even good at my one talent was too much to bear. So in my privacy I sobbed harder than I had in years.

But apparently my spot in the tree was not as concealed as I originally thought. Just as I was about to collect myself and climb down, I heard a man clear his throat and call up to me, "Miss, are you alright?"

I looked down and almost fell off the branch as I realized who it was. "Gilbert?" I exclaimed.

He looked surprised to see me, a wonder since that day I wore a bright yellow dress and my hair is as red as ever. "What are you doing up there?" he asked me, knitting his eyebrows together in that infuriating way he always does. "Have you been... crying?"

I shook my head but I'm sure it did nothing to hide my frazzled state.

"Do you need help coming down from there?"

"No," I said but he offered me a hand anyway and I accepted it.

As I brushed the leaves and bark from my skirt he asked me, "Would you like a cup of tea?"

My meltdown had caused me to miss lunch so I accepted. At the tea house, he as always volunteered to pay for everything which I found frustrating but I've gotten more used to Gilbert over the years.

We talked idly for a while. I asked him about his classes. He's a medical student, did I tell you that? Not in medical school yet, but in a pre-medical program. With all of his money, I don't know why he needs a career but I suppose you have to do something to fill your days. Anyway, I knew this term he's had a number of terribly strenuous courses and I was curious how he was handling them. Everything was going well, he said but didn't appear that interested in talking about himself.

"Do you want to talk about why you were so upset earlier?" he asked me suddenly. "I would understand if you don't, of course, but perhaps if you told someone you'd... feel better."

I sighed and pulled the letters from my pocket, handing them over to him. He scanned them quickly, raising his eyebrows.

"Wow," he said once he finished reading. "How could they be so..."

"Blunt?"

"Wrong," he finished. "These people clearly know nothing. "

I was a bit nonplussed at his reaction. "I should have worked harder on the stories, instead of rushing to send them in. I'm more angry at myself than at those who rejected me."

Gilbert shook his head. "Your work is far from shallow, Anne. If you wrote it, then I'm sure it was amazing." He scoffed at the letter.

“I didn’t know you had read any of my writing,” I said.

“I read your articles in the newspaper,” he was quick to reply.

“Oh. Well, I wouldn’t judge my writing on those little book reviews in the newspaper.”

“No— I meant the newspaper back home. In Avonlea. Bash would send them to me here, and I always loved what you wrote. Everything you wrote carried so much meaning. That stuck with me.”

"Well, thank you, Gilbert," was all I really could say. I felt a strange burst of affection towards him at that moment and it struck me that we are truly friends. Close friends, as close as I am to Priscilla, Phil, and Stella.

Gilbert has changed these last few years, too. It's the strangest thing. When I first met him and he was a boy of fifteen, he was much like every other boy I met back then— confident, rowdy, foolhardy. Then his father died and on the rare occasion he came back to Avonlea, he seemed to have retreated into himself. We blamed it on the grief and all of the money he came into with his father's inheritance (and, reportedly, that of a wealthy aunt). But recently traces of the old Gilbert, the one who defended me from Billy Andrews and called me Carrots, have resurfaced. I don't know really how I feel about all that. I just know that I was incredibly thankful to have him as a friend yesterday in the tea house.

Anyways, I know that all of that might have been too personal. I'll stop myself now as I hear Diana coming up the stairs and writing this letter has motivated me to mend things with her. I’ll write more to you in a few days with updates on my courses and all of that (everything is well, don’t worry) but I simply wanted to tell someone.

Thankful as always,

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. It’s Saturday now and Diana and I are on good terms again. I showed her the letters and she too thought they were preposterous. Diana has read the stories I sent in and liked them a lot. Because of her confidence and my talk with Gilbert on Thursday I’ve decided to send you one of my stories. I know you at least like my writing so perhaps someone will enjoy them.

PART II.

“It still doesn’t feel real,” Anne told Diana as they walked, arm-in-arm, through the front doors of the lecture hall. “Can you believe that it was three years ago that we first walked into this building for our first class?”

“We were terrified, if I recall,” said Diana. “Look at us now— tall, beautiful, intimidating senior girls!” She struck a pose, silly and exaggerated and the two dissolved into giggles.

They found seats, two right next to each other near the front of the room. Twenty minutes early as they liked to be to every class on the first day, only a few other students had yet arrived.

“I remember being frightened of the older girls when I was a freshman,” Anne said, pulling out her notebook and pen and placing them squarely on the table in front of her. “Now that I am one, I don’t know what there was to be frightened of. I scarcely feel older than I did back then.”

“Do you think that there will be many lower-years in this class?” asked Diana.

“I don’t know. If this course was offered my first term here, I would have stopped at nothing to take it.” Anne breathed out dreamily. “To think we’ll be studying only contemporary women writers— this is exactly the kind of course I envisioned taking when I first thought about going to college.”

“It’s too bad that the others couldn’t fit this into their timetables.”

Anne sighed. “Such is the busy life of a senior. Everyone says that we’ll have loads and loads more coursework this term but I think that I’ll hardly notice if the extra work is something I enjoy. Don’t you agree?”

Diana nodded firmly, and the room started to fill up with other students, mostly girls but a few boys showed up as well. Their instructor, the soft spoken but kind Professor Abbott, arrived five minutes prior to the class’s scheduled start time. He walked through the front door, trailed by none other than Gilbert Blythe, and the two seemed to be engaged in conversation. As they approached the chalkboard and instructor’s desk, Gilbert thanked the man and they shook hands before Gilbert left him.

“Hello Anne, hello Diana,” Gilbert said, standing in front of their table. “May I sit next to you?”

One of the only free seats in the room was right next to Anne, so she nodded, then asked, “You’re in this class?”

Gilbert sat down. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

Diana gently elbowed Anne for her rudeness. “We’ll be glad to see you at least twice a week now,” Diana said. “Last term we could barely catch a glimpse of you once a month.”

He chuckled. “Yes, the medical faculty keeps us quite busy. If this is how rigorous pre-medical program is, I can’t even begin to imagine the real thing.”

“You’ll get used to it, I’m sure,” Diana said.

“I have no choice,” replied Gilbert, sardonic but Anne could tell he was in a good mood.

Up front, Prof. Abbott ordered a red-faced sophomore boy to hand out papers with the reading list. He had prepared one paper for every three students, so Anne, Diana, and Gilbert shared a paper.

“Oh no!” Anne exclaimed as she read one title on the list.

“What happened?” asked Diana.

“I forgot to bring a book with me from home. This one here— Elizabeth and Her German Garden— I read it last summer and meant to bring my copy from home so I didn’t have to purchase another. But now I realize that I forgot to pack it, and we’re reading it next week.”

“Don’t despair, Anne, you can borrow mine when I’m done reading the assigned sections,” offered Diana.

Gilbert cleared his throat. “Actually, I happen to have an extra copy, if you wanted it, Anne.”

Anne perked up. “Really? Thank you, Gilbert!”

After class ended, Gilbert and Anne said goodbye to Diana and started the walk to Gilbert’s nearby apartment. Gilbert leading Anne, they reached his street only a few minutes later, as Gilbert lived only a street or two away from the main campus of the University of Toronto. The houses that lined the road embodied wealth and luxury. Though she had never been there, Anne knew that Gilbert lived in a small but ridiculously comfortable apartment at the top of one of these red bricked buildings.

She had never been on his street, either, but still the name— Sherbourne Street— felt familiar. As the two ascending the stairs of Gilbert’s building, Anne realized why: somewhere on the street, among its seven miles of fancy house after fancy house, live Anne’s mysterious benefactor.

Anne laughed out loud.

Gilbert turned around and threw up an inquisitive eyebrow. “Is something funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” said Anne. “It’s only that the world of the rich is so remarkably tiny, don’t you agree?”

“I suppose so,” answered Gilbert. “Why do you say that?”

They reached the top step and Gilbert pulled out his key to open his door.

Anne told him, “I’ve realized that you live on the same street as someone I know.”

Gilbert paused, his key only halfway in the lock. “Oh? Who?”

“Well, I’ve never met him. This might sound strange, but he’s— are you going to open the door or not, Gilbert?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Gilbert let them in. “You were saying?”

“He’s an old rich man who’s been paying for my education. I’ve never seen him in person, you see, but I’ve written him letters for the last three years so I feel like I know him quite well.”

Anne followed Gilbert through his apartment, which was quite larger than it appeared on the outside, until they ended up in a large library room with a fireplace and massive chairs with vast, soft-looking cushions. It was exactly the kind of library Anne yearned to possess herself, where she could sit with a warm cup of tea on a cold winter’s day.

“The book is over here,” Gilbert said, pointing to a shelf and directing her there. “So… your… old man has written you back often, then?”

“Well, not exactly. But I believe that you don’t have to know a person to know them.”

“That doesn’t make much sense at all, Anne.”

She pouted. “Never mind then. Maybe it isn’t meant to be understood by anyone else but me.”

He laughed, then, a soft chuckle that surprised Anne in its clarity. He pulled a book off the shelf. “Here it is,” he said, handing over his copy of Elizabeth and Her German Garden.

As Anne took it graciously, she couldn’t help but notice that he didn’t have another copy on the shelf but decided not to mention it.

The rest of the course was as enjoyable as Anne and Diana had hoped. Tuesday morning before class often brought Anne, Diana, and Gilbert together to a nearby tea house to eat lunch and discuss the week's readings. Anne looked forward to their meeting more than almost anything else. Gilbert seemed to appreciate the literature as much as Anne and Diana, even though the books were by women. He was able to offer both a male and medical opinion, the latter of which being particularly valued in their discussion of The Yellow Wallpaper. Both Anne and Diana thought his enjoyment curious, but their instructor was also a man after all. It wasn't so strange, and to have a man appreciating the words of a woman rather than the other way around was empowering to Anne as a writer herself.

Anne had never seen Gilbert so relaxed as he was during their Tuesday morning book discussions. Usually, in most other occasions when their paths crossed, Gilbert always seemed to be in such a rush, stressed out about business, or class, or some other small thing. Anne had always felt sad for him because of this, but to see him truly at ease painted him in a different light in her mind. His presence became something welcome, more soothing than it had ever been. She had realized they were good friends less than a year ago, and she wondered if Gilbert's father had never died, if business had never kept him away from Avonlea, they would be as good of friends today.

The term flew quicker than Anne had anticipated, as it was want to do, and soon Christmas was over and exam season was upon them. Anne barely caught sight any of her friends for those two weeks, as everyone boarded themselves in their rooms to study and write essays. The only person Anne saw with any sort of regularity was Diana, which only happened because the two shared a room.

The Monday of the second exam week, Anne and Diana decided to take a much-deserved break, going for a stroll in a nearby park to clear their minds.

"Have you seen Gilbert lately?" Anne asked Diana.

"No," said Diana. "I imagine he is incredibly busy with his own exams. Studying for our exams is hard enough. Can you even imagine what his must be like?"

Anne shuddered. "I would rather not. While I find the human body and all its functions endlessly fascinating, I've caught a glimpse of his more complicated textbooks. I won't be joining the pre-medical program any time soon."

"At the very least, we'll see him at the exam for women's literature," said Diana.

But when the day came, Gilbert did not show up. Diana and Anne showed up their usual twenty minutes early, expecting to see their friend, but he was nowhere to be seen.

As the minutes to the exam's start passed, Anne became nervous for her friend. She rose from her chair and said to Professor Abbott, who was seconds away from starting the test, "Excuse me, sir, but shouldn't we wait until Gilbert is here?"

Professor Abbott fixed her with an odd look. "Mr. Blythe won't be sitting the exam."

Had something happened? Had Gilbert dropped the course last-minute? That couldn't be right. He had attended every class.

Anne badly wanted to ask why, worried about her friend, but Professor Abbott gave her no room to do so, starting to read the instructions for their timed essay. She wrote a fine essay, though it took her longer than it would have had she not been so distracted by the empty spot next to her. When the exam finished, Anne wasted not a second to ask her instructor what he had meant.

"Mr. Blythe was only auditing the course," was his answer. "Therefore, he did not have to take the exam. I thought you knew that, him being your beau."

Heat rushed to her face. A younger Anne might have argued that Gilbert was not her beau in the least, but today she thanked him and left with Diana.

On their walk home, Anne clung to Diana's arm and asked, "It seems very strange that Gilbert would audit a course."

"It's not so strange," replied Diana. "Gilbert has always been interested in literature, and likely wanted an excuse to read more without having another exam to prepare for."

"Why do you think he didn't tell us?" asked Anne.

Diana peered at her, a curious glint in her eyes. "I have a suspicion."

When Diana didn't elaborate immediately, Anne stopped them in the middle of the walkway. A disgruntled set of girls behind them rolled their eyes to wind around them.

"What is it?"

With a small grin, Diana answered, "I think Gilbert took the class because of you."

"Me?!" Anne said incredulously. "Why would Gilbert do that?"

"You really don't know?"

"Know what? What is there to know?"

"Never mind," Diana said slyly, pulling them back into motion.

"Diana, quit messing with my head and tell me."

Diana laughed. "Are you saying that you really don't see the way he looks at you? He obviously loves you."

Anne didn't say anything, trying to wrap her mind around Diana's words.

Sighing, Diana continued, "If you don't believe me, just ask him yourself."

Anne huffed, confused at her irritation. "I think I will."

It took a few days to pin down Gilbert, as his exams kept him busy and occupied at the few moments he was usually reliably free. But finally Anne managed to catch him at their favorite tea house, reading a newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee, and sat down without invitation.

Gilbert looked surprised to see her there. "Anne, hello." He folded his newspaper and set it down in front of him. "Not that you're unwelcome, but what are you doing here?"

"Stella said she saw you here," Anne said.

"Oh," said Gilbert. "Well, do you want something? On me, of course."

"No. Actually, I have a question. An important question. Well, maybe it's not so important, but it could be. Depending on your answer."

"Anne— just... ask the question."

Gilbert looked a little nervous himself, shifting in his chair.

Anne took a breath. "Right. Sorry. I was only wondering... why did you take the Women Authors course?"

"Oh." He was quiet for a moment and Anne studied his face. "Well, I wanted to educate myself, I suppose, about literature written by women. I felt I didn't know much about the subject."

Unsatisfied, Anne shot back, "You decided to take an extra class for no reason in your last year of the pre-medical program?"

"I wanted to read something other than dry medical books. I'm sorry... did you want another answer?"

Anne sighed and stood up, more dejected than she thought she'd be. "No. I was just being silly. I'm sorry for bothering you, Gilbert. I should go."

"You don't have to."

"No, I should. I have a letter to write."

FROM THE DESK OF ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

1 May 1904

Dear Mr. Smith,

It felt right to address you in a more formal manner today because we have formal matters to discuss. As I graduate in three weeks, I imagine that this will be my last letter to you for some time. Don’t worry, I intend to tell you as soon as something big happens with my writing. You’ll be the first to know, before Marilla or Matthew or even Diana. I could never forget that you are the reason I was able to go to school and reach my full potential. Because of you, I’m not stuck at Green Gables, shoveling hay alongside Jerry or teaching at the small Avonlea school house and never seeing the world for the rest of my life.

You’ve already given me so much, Mr. Smith, and it doesn’t feel right to ask for more but I can’t help it. It would feel even less right to graduate without you in the audience, watching me.

Say you’ll come, won’t you? I know you wish to remain anonymous. Your decision to hide your identity has been my constant turmoil for the last four years and I don’t think I could bear to go out into the world without putting a face and a name to the man who has changed my life completely.

Please don’t be afraid that you’ll disappoint me. Is it presumptuous to tell you that? For all I know, you don’t care about me one bit and haven’t read a single one of my many, many letters. But if you have, and if you have found any meaning in them at all, please tell me you’ll come. I already love you with all my heart.

If you are brave enough to come, I have included in this envelope the invitation. Matthew and Marilla regrettably can’t make it so if you come, you’ll be the only one there specifically for me. If you aren’t, then I’ll try to forgive you. I’m not sure I’ll be able to, but I’ll really, really try.

Hoping to see you soon,

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

“Perhaps he’s running late.”

Anne slumped against the stage wall. “There’s no use. He isn't coming."

Diana pulled back an inch of the stage's curtain once more. She must have seen the same empty seat as before, as she said, "I'm very sorry, Anne."

"What are you two up to?"

Anne and Diana turned to see Gilbert, dressed in the same black and white graduation robes as them.

"We're trying to see if Anne's benefactor has shown up," Diana informed him.

Gilbert adopted a pained expression, a crease forming between his eyebrows. "No luck so far, then?"

"The ceremony starts in five minutes," said Anne miserably. "He isn't coming. I don't know why I expected any different. I've written him for four years with barely any response. I'm a fool for thinking today would be any different."

Diana crouched next to her, placing a reassuring hand on her back. "You're not a fool, Anne."

"Perhaps he got called away on urgent business," said Gilbert, with a tone perhaps meant to be reassuring but that came out with a slight irritation. "You never know."

"He's a coward," Anne declared, crossing her arms. "He never cared about me at all."

"You can't possibly know that," Gilbert said.

"Yes, I can. I can just feel it."

Gilbert infuriatingly pointed out, "Just last month you could feel that he was a kindred spirit."

"Would you stop taking his side?"

"I'm not taking his side," Gilbert insisted. "But perhaps your day wouldn't be ruined if you tried to consider things from his perspective—"

"I'm glad to graduate. Then I can finally wash my hands of rich men trying to control my life!"

Gilbert was quiet for a moment. "Is that all you think of me? Just another rich man controlling your life?"

Anne huffed but before she could respond, the professor organizing students called for graduates with B last names.

Diana stood up next to Anne. "We should probably go line up, Gilbert."

As they walked away, Diana turned around to shake her head at the other girl, sympathetic but disapproving, a look Anne had been on the receiving end of many times over their nine years of friendship.

Anne tried to compose herself after that, tried to still enjoy the moment she had anticipated for all her life. But as she walked across the stage, she couldn't stop her eyes from stinging or her heart from aching.

After the ceremony, the University arranged for a banquet of sorts for the recent graduates and their families. When picturing the moment in her head in the weeks prior, Anne had imagined her and her benefactor, who showed up perfectly on time for her graduation and had instantly turned into a grandfather of sorts, walking arm and arm through the crowd so she could introduce him to all of the people she had mentioned in her letters over the years. But in the face of the actual thing without any new friend or grandfather figure, Anne wished to skip the ordeal altogether.

Still, she had watched the graduations of other students older than her with jealousy for three years, anticipating her own shining moment. So Anne changed out of her robes, put on the new dress Marilla sent her as an apology for not being able to attend, a beautiful, soft blue thing, and resolved to enjoy herself. If she had to avoid Gilbert, then so be it.

Anne, Diana, and Diana's family sat at a large table under the largest white tent that Anne had ever seen. The sunset cast a pink and orange glow about everything and the faintest chill of evening air had begun to take hold, bringing a divine atmosphere to the banquet. Anne had almost started to relax when Gilbert approached their table. He had something in his hand which he seemed insistent on hiding behind his back.

He first greeted the Barrys, who always loved Gilbert Blythe, and then turned to Anne. "I was wondering if we could talk."

Anne swallowed and nodded. Gilbert led her to a bench under a tree, away from the crowds of people.

"Look, Gilbert, if this is about earlier today, before the ceremony..." Anne was quick to say, "I'm sorry. Really, I am. I had a horrible moment and ruined the day for you, too."

Gilbert shook his head. "I was trying to comfort you, but I only made things worse. And truly I am sorry that you were disappointed so sorely today."

"You aren't to blame," Anne told him. "It's Mr. Smith that I'm the most angry with."

"Right." He cleared his throat. "Well, I didn't bring you here to apologize. I mean not just to apologize. I mean— these are for you."

He held out a bouquet of flowers, beautiful pink camellias, which Anne only now noticed were the object he hid behind his back.

"Oh, Gilbert, these are beautiful," she told him, eagerly taking the bouquet from his hands. "This is the most lovely apology I've ever received."

Gilbert looked down, a small smile forming on his mouth. "It's not just an apology. It's also a thank you." Then he looked at her, the smile growing to fullness. "You don't know how... valuable your companionship has been these last four years."

Heat rushed to Anne's cheeks as she thought of her reprehensible behavior towards Gilbert the first few years of her time at the University of Toronto. "Even after how horribly I treated you freshman and sophomore year?"

"I probably deserved that," Gilbert said, laughing. "After I left Avonlea, I barely spent any time with people my own age who didn't own at least three homes. I'm afraid I often forgot to act around normal people."

"Still, I could have been a little less harsh."

"Perhaps that's true."

"So I'm a normal person, then?"

"You're anything but, Anne Shirley-Cuthbert."

They were quiet for a moment. The wind rustled the leaves of the tree above them as the final few rays of sun sunk below the horizon.

Suddenly, Anne had to ask a question with an urgency that surprised her. "Gilbert," she said. "This isn't a goodbye, is it?"

He looked at her in surprise. "No. Never."

"Oh. Good," Anne said, relieved.

Gilbert looked like he was about to say something, but at that moment a little girl with light brown skin and curly black hair ran up to him. She couldn't have been more than four. He laughed, picking the little girl up.

"Who is this?" asked Anne, not thinking about how disappointed she felt in that moment.

"This is Delly, my friend's daughter," Gilbert said. He stood up and sighed. "I should probably get her back to her family."

Anne stood up as well. "Yes, probably."

He walked a few steps away before turning around. Again, he looked like he wanted to say something. Instead, he picked up Anne's hand with his free one and kissed it. "I'm really proud of you, Anne."

Her heart beating loudly in her ears prevented her from making any response, and she was only able to watch him walk away, back to the crowds of people, as she tried to reckon with her own feelings.

A | S | C

1 June, 1904

To my forgiven benefactor,

I know I said that the last letter would be the last letter. I had thought that because I had imagined the last week would go a lot differently than it has.

If you had come to my graduation, there would have been no reason to continue sending letters in this manner. As I intend to stay in Toronto for the foreseeable future, I had pictured us having tea once a week and discussing books and my writing and the weather or any number of other things. But, as we both know, you did not attend. Before it happened, I had thought that I could never forgive your absence. I know I said that I would try but I was already certain that I wouldn't be able to forgive you. But I have surprised even myself.

I have realized that I don't know you at all, Mr. Smith, and have made my peace with this. I didn't come to this conclusion easily, that much is certain. I haven't the faintest idea why you never wanted to write back to me, or why you didn't come to my graduation. Perhaps you were busy. Perhaps you have not read a single letter I've sent. Perhaps you were as scared to meet me as I was to meet you. Whatever the reason, I'm afraid I have lost sight of everything you've given me. If our relationship, however one-sided it is, ends with scorn, then every time I think about University and all of the opportunities it has afforded me I would have to think about my anger. A younger Anne would have been content to live that life, but I certainly am not. So there you are, Mr. Smith. This young, foolish girl forgives you.

I've only now realized how valuable writing these letters has been for my personal development. You are my closest confidant. You know things about me that even Diana doesn't know, which is saying a lot. Had you responded, then I doubt that I would have been as honest as I was. If you'll allow me to be honest one more time, I have quite the dilemma. You see, these letters have allowed me to sort through confusing feelings and I feel more confused right now than I had ever been.

You see, Mr. Smith, I think I am in love. I wish you could help me. I could use some wisdom right now. As much as I have longed to be in love my whole life, I never thought to think about what it would actually be like.

When I'm with him, time doesn't exist anymore. And then he leaves, I'm aware of how quickly time passes by and I want to sob. I want to share everything there is. I want him to be there in the morning when I make porridge and I want to be there with him when he's doing the most boring business possible. Every time I read a good book, or think a funny thought, I wish he was next to me so I can tell him about it. At night I hate the moonlight because it's beautiful and he isn't here to see it with me. Do you understand what I mean? I really, really hope that you do. I think anyone who has ever been in love would understand.

Here is my problem and the source of my anguish: the man I am in love with is Gilbert Blythe. This may come as a shock to you, since I have frequently spoken ill of him in my letters. For this very reason, I am afraid I preemptively damaged my relationship with him permanently. We have since become close friends, but how could he forget how horrid I was to him, enough to love me back? I'm sure he'll also want to be with a distinguished woman from wealth, like that beautiful Winifred Rose I spotted him walking arm-in-arm with last February. I will forever be the red headed orphan girl who slapped him with a slate when I was thirteen.

I know you won't respond, but I still have to ask you. What do you think I should do? If you could just read this letter and think your answer really, really hard then I am certain I will feel better.

I will miss writing these letters and I will miss you, Mr. Smith. I will continue to think of you every day of my life.

Sending you all the love in my heart,

Anne Shirley-Cuthbert

P.S. In this envelope I have included my final transcripts as well as a check for $100. The check is not for much compared to all that you've given me but it's a start and I intend to pay you back every penny that you have spent on me. I received a small sum of money for a short story that will be published soon, and it's a start.

P.P.S. Did you notice my new stationery? I bought it myself also with the money from the advance.

A | S | C

6 June 1904

Dear Mr. Smith,

YES! I will be there— Saturday at noon. I can’t believe that I am finally going to meet you. It doesn’t feel real.

Love, love, love,

Anne

Once Anne arrived at the address told to her by Mr. Smith, she recognized the building as the tea place she, Diana, and Gilbert went to nearly twice a week during the Fall term. Had her and her benefactor ever been there at the same time? Had they ever crossed paths before, said hello to each other on the street without knowing each others' identity? For the first time in nearly four years, how close they lived to each other truly struck Anne. She knew he lived in Toronto, even knew what street he lived on thanks to the return address on the stationery he sent her every birthday. But they knew about the same businesses, ate at the same places!

All that time being so close and yet he still never made an effort to visit. Anne wondered if she would come to regret her choice to meet Mr. Smith here today. But she was too curious and had come so far. So she pushed her shoulders back in resolve and entered the tea house with as much confidence as she could muster.

A waiter in a nice blue jacket greeted her immediately.

"I'm here to meet with Mr. Smith," she told him.

Comprehension bloomed on the waiter's face. "You must be Ms. Shirley, then. Follow me."

He escorted her past large rooms with tables full of people eating lunch, past the kitchen door, past the restrooms, to a private tea room with a large window facing the park across the street. A large table sat in front of the window, meant to accommodate a large party of people. A single figure stood in the window, a silhouette in the face of the bright sunlight that streamed inside. This was it. She would finally meet her benefactor. Anne's heart stopped as the man slowly turned around. Only, when he did, he wasn't Mr. Smith. He wasn't even an old man.

He was Gilbert Blythe.

"Gilbert?" Anne cried. "What are you doing here?

"Hello, Anne." He swallowed visibly.

"You must leave now. I'm meeting someone very important and undoubtedly he'll be here soon, so if you could—"

"I know," Gilbert said.

"If you know, then you know why you must leave," Anne told him, irritation setting him. She approached him to try and push him towards the door. "How you could possibly know is another thing. Did Diana tell you? I told her not to tell anyone."

"No, Anne—" He paused, firm in his footing and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. "I know why you're here because you're here to see me. I sent you that letter."

"Did you impersonate Mr. Smith?"

"No, what I'm trying to tell you is..." he dropped his hands from her shoulders and moved one to scratch at the back of his head. "I couldn't impersonate Mr. Smith. Because he's me."

Well. Anne wasn't expecting that. She stopped in her tracks, mouth agape.

"Please, say something," Gilbert begged, a tremor to his voice.

"You?" was all that she could get out.

"You're Mr. Smith."

Blood rushed to Anne's face and she felt her heart and breath speed up dangerously. She grasped the back of a chair, tightly clutching the wood.

Gilbert pulled out another chair. "Perhaps you should sit down."

She did take a seat, but it wasn't the one he offered. "You're my mysterious, anonymous benefactor."

He gave a feeble laugh. "One in the same."

"I don't understand. How can you be Mr. Smith? You're not even old."

Sitting next to her, Gilbert said, "I never understood why you always wrote about my old age. I certainly never said that."

"Rich men who give orphan girls enormous scholarships are old. That just makes sense," Anne told him, nearing hysteria. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. "They aren't pre-medical students I hit with a slate when I was thirteen!"

"I owe you an explanation. That's why I—"

Anne's hands flew to her mouth in shock. "My goodness, the letters! Every horrible thing in the world about you I wrote in those letters!"

"You said a lot of things to me in person, too," Gilbert pointed out dryly.

"That's different! I didn't know I was insulting my benefactor to his face!" If it were possible, Anne felt her face growing even warmer. She surely looked like a tomato, with her face red enough to match her hair. "And you read my letters?"

"Every single one. They were the best part of my month."

"Every single one?" Anne echoed. "I suppose there's no hope that you skipped the last one, then?"

"I meant every one."

She buried her face into the table. "If Mr. Smith had been my matron from the orphanage, it would have been easier to take."

He patted her back awkwardly. "Well, I'm not so bad, am I?"

Anne wanted to scream, taking a deep breath to avoid doing so. "Could you just promise to forget about the last letter and never mention it ever again?"

"I'm afraid I could never do that, Anne."

"And why not?"

"Well, I— I just couldn't."

"Why would you do this, Gilbert? I can't wrap my mind around it. I just don't understand."

Leaning back in his chair, Gilbert paused a moment before saying, "You wouldn't have let me pay for your education any other way."

"You still should have asked."

"Maybe so," Gilbert said. "But come on, Anne, I've known how stubborn you are since we were kids. I had the bruises to prove it. And when I heard that you had been accepted into the U of T but couldn't go because of money, well, I had to help."

"But why me?" Anne asked him.

"You deserved it. And, well, maybe I was selfish."

"Selfish?"

He took a deep breath. "Maybe because I knew I was also going to Toronto. And maybe I wanted you there, too."

Anne didn't know at all how to respond to that. Her mind raced, replaying every moment they shared over the last few years. How her benefactor happened to know her birthday, when Gilbert had bumped into her at her own birthday party. How her benefactor didn't come to her graduation, when Gilbert was graduating himself. They even lived on the same street. Of course Gilbert was her benefactor. It made sense.

"Why did you agree to meet now? Why not before?"

Gilbert exhaled loudly. "You don't know how many times I almost told you, or how many letters I started to draft but threw away before I could. I didn't know if I should be Mr. Smith telling you I'm Gilbert, or if I should be Gilbert telling you I'm Mr. Smith."

"Mr. Smith doesn't exist," she said.

That made Gilbert go quiet. "I suppose he's not," he said finally. "Are you terribly mad at me?"

Anne sighed. "You lied to me and betrayed my trust for four years. I don't know how I could ever forget that."

"And yet?"

"And yet..." Anne was surprised to feel a smile forming and at last she laughed. "It's you, it's really you."

Hope or something like it bloomed on Gilbert's face. He grabbed her hand.

Anne told him, "You never answered my question."

Gilbert took a shaky breath. "Because," he said, "When I read your last letter, I realized you needed to know everything before I did this."

"Did what?" she asked, but she knew he was already leaning in.

Gilbert kissed Anne, and while Anne had imagined her first kiss much more chaste, she put all of the emotions she felt into it. When they pulled back, Gilbert had a goofy grin adoring his mouth that she was sure matched her own.

"Anne," he said urgently. "I love you."

"I'd tell you the same," she said, "but something tells me you already know."

YOU ARE CORDIALLY INVITED

TO THE WEDDING OF

ANNE SHIRLEY-CUTHBERT

and

GILBERT BLYTHE

Saturday, October 4, 1904

3 o’clock in the afternoon

At the St. Andrew’s Church

Toronto, Ontario

Reception to follow.

/ fin

#annesecretsanta #kindredspiritssecretsanta #kindred spirits secret santa #lollercakesff #anne with an e #awae #shirbert #royalcordelia #tessa im tagging ur other blog in case something gets fucked up lol #i hope you enjoy this lollercakes!#i love ur fic a lot :)

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rosesandrorys · 5 years ago

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✧･ﾟ( demeter + alexa demie + cis female ) 𝒎𝒂𝒎𝒎𝒂 𝒎𝒊𝒂 !! have you seen ( veronica “rory” flores ) around ? ( she ) have/has been in kaos for ( two months ). the ( twenty four year old ) is a/an ( bartender ) from ( los angeles, united states ). people say they can be ( hot-headed ) but maybe that’s not too bad ‘cause they can also be ( steadfast ). whenever i think of them, i can’t help but think of ( iced coffee at nine pm, the smell of the earth after rain, a four leafed clover poking out of a crack in the road ). ･ﾟ✧ ( penned by neha, 21, est, she/her ).

hiiiii everyone first of all i am so happy to be here the main is b e a u t i f u l and gives me so much greek god inspo! i’m neha this is my bby rory!! i’m going to add my big bio/about blurb that was in my app so if you want to you can read all about her, but if you don’t have time here’s a little tldr; for you!

rory is my LA club kid QUEEN, she basically grew up super poor but going to a school wanting to fit in with the rich popular kids, long story short she started selling club drugs n stuff to them, gained the friendship and money but once hs ended it, everything ended and she basically had to start over, only now she had the uphill battle w/ addiction to drugs/partying/bad decisions to also handle! she’s on the island bc her mom met a rich guy and he has a villa on the island he wants her to fix up, which is also doubling as a kind of ‘get clean’ retreat tho it ain’t rlly working even tho sgenuinelynunienly sometimes want to do better. she’s a hustler and has a sharp tongue, but on the inside she has a heart of gold and rlly just wants to be loved for who she is for like the first time ever <3

PLOTTING STUFF: she’s been on the island for two months now, but lil girl is all about having those connections bc she thinks its the only way she can have value (ugh poor kid) so lmk!! they could’ve met through the whole partying/drugs route, at the bar where she works at a bartender, or maybe at the hardware stores that she frequents because she’s fixing up the villa! i have more specific plot ideas but i don’t want to make this post too long so hmu or like this post for me to come to you!!

ok, that’s my two pieces said, now here’s the longish bio section if you want to learn more in depth about her :)Tw for abuse, drug use/dealing, addiction

B I O G R A P H Y

Rory is from LA born and raised! Her mother is a single mom and it was just them for a long time, with the rotating cast of her mother’s boyfriends. The two could just never seem to get close to financial stability and she grew up rough, never having enough money to keep up with the kids at school, then having to fend for herself once she got home because her mother worked nights.

At home, it all depended on what boyfriend out of the rotation her mother was currently seeing. The best strategy for all of them was avoidance, so Rory spent her days on the streets or at work, never really wanting to deal with the boyfriends. Throughout the years, she suffered abuse and neglect from these men, and though she tried to tell her mother, who was always just a little too busy, a little too high, or a little too blind to the effects. Besides, they needed the extra money that the various boyfriends gave.

Despite it all, at school Rory shined. She was smart, that much was clear, and she exuded a certain aura of warmth that could make anyone, even the girls with birkin bags and ice cold hearts fall in love. Her school was a dichotomy of rich and poor, and if she worked her ass off and put in maximum effort, it seemed she could fit in with both. But she didn’t want both, didn’t want the stigma of her background to follow her everywhere. She wanted to live in the world of marble countertops and athleisure accessorized with diamonds. So, with extreme effort, she pulled herself up to the social ranks of those girls in school, always going over to their houses to study, pretending she never learned how to drive so that they wouldn’t know she couldn’t afford a car, let alone the mercedes and italian sports cars they drove to school.

But keeping up has its price, and that price began to climb as she was integrated deeper. Rory needed money for twelve dollar salads and fifty dollar spin classes, and the money from her job (which she said her mom forced her to do to learn responsibility) wasn’t cutting it. She was a scrappy kid turned into a precocious young adult and she’d been scrambling all her life, this was just another bootstraps moment. She had the connections from her neighborhood, and what did rich kids like more than drugs? The answer was nothing, and Rory made the leap easily, starting off small and gradually building up a mini drug empire in her high school. She finally had spending money, but more importantly she had friends and people who cared about her, and she wasn’t going to give that up for the world.

Rory wasn’t dumb, she knew this couldn’t last forever, so she was also making solid plans to further herself in life. But an addictive personality ran in her veins as evidenced by her mother who was addicted to it all - drugs, boyfriends, and bad decisions. The moment it all started to go south could be pinpointed to the moment she herself started to use the drugs. Her friends were doing it after all, and she didn’t want to be a buzzkill. The drugs were an escape from her shitty life that was going nowhere, after all. They let her put on the rose-tinted glasses that she’d been denied since birth, and Rory ate it up.

But with every ascent, comes a crash and as the lag time from the drugs started to affect her performance in everyday life, grades started to slip, dreams fell to the wayside and prospects started to vanish. By the time she finished highschool they’d say - what a fall from grace. Because she’d forgotten one very important thing. If her friends made a mistake, it could all be very easily swept under the rug and forgotten by way of their parents’ money. Rory, however, had no safety net, and at the end of highschool she was left in the lurch: same terrible grades and attendance as her friends, but no large donations to get her into prestigious schools. Or, for a fact, any schools. She’d peaked, and what followed graduation was a spiralling descent back to where she’d started. The friends she’d been so fiercely loyal to moved on to college and beyond and she was left with nothing but the endless LA party scene filled with people she didn’t care about and worse and worse decisions by the day.

If it’d gone on for a couple more months, she’d probably have died. But the money started to dry up as her friends left, and the final blow was a drop gone wrong - high as a kite, she’d decided that handing off a major package to a much larger man in a dark alley was a good idea, and the inevitable tussle and robbing left her hurting. She was high and dry with no income and no savings. Twenty-two years old and nothing to her name. It was time for that scrappy kid to scramble once again, but that kid now had a mild drug problem and a chip on her shoulder the size of Texas.

It wasn’t going to be easy. But one thing Rory was always good at was cultivating her connections. Though her friends had moved on, Rory’s combination of dimples, winning smile, and just enough ass kissing had created just enough opportunities with the people in their lives, and the people at the parties she frequented. She had an in to the rich, and damn if she wasn’t going to exploit it. Odd jobs here and there was her life now, just enough to keep her drug addiction alive, just enough to keep her name in the back of the minds of the wealthy. She knew this would change her life somehow, she just wasn’t quite sure how yet.And who could’ve predicted how it happened.

It was mundane, a job making drinks at a classy party, one of those ones where the host barely shows up, where the adults sip their martinis and the kids do blow in the bathrooms. The party wasn’t anything remarkable, but what followed was. She was getting picked up by her mother, and the host of the party, a middle aged salt and pepper type man recognized her mother. They had gone to school together or something, Rory was exhausted and didn’t really care, but apparently her mother turned on the same charm inherent in Rory, and the next Friday had lined up a date.

Things progressed extremely quickly from there on out, with lavish dinners and getaway weekends for the two lovebirds. It was astonishing to watch, and the whispers of ‘gold-digger’ from the country club ladies couldn’t even come close to puncturing Rory’s mom’s thick skin. Both women had been to hell and back after all, had worked all their lives for pennies, and finally something serendipitous had happened. All the toxic exs were dropped within the first six months, the crappy two bedroom within a year, and after a year and a half marriage and a kid on the way - though nobody could quite say which one came first. It was a strike of lightning, transforming the tiny flores family immediately. Call it fate or fortune, but Rory was finally back in that world that she’d strived to be in.

This time, when the spiral came it was well supported and well recognized by Rory’s new step-father. He’d already been through the gambit of raising rich kids, two who were now nearing their thirties, and he could see the signs instantly. Bloodshot eyes, partying all night, sniffles and gaunt features. Rory was getting pulled in again, and fast, but this time there was finally someone looking out for her. She couldn’t escape the lure of the partying and the drugs alone, and this marriage had essentially busted it wide open for her, kicking away any barriers that had been there before. They couldn’t control her, really. She’d been scrambling so long that cutting off the money didn’t matter, she had her connections and her grit that had gotten her this far.

What Rory needed was an out, a way to escape the vicious cycle addiction had pulled her into and her step-father had just the thing: a house on a tiny island in Greece, a fixer upper that needed some love. Of course, he could easily drop a few thousand down and have it renovated much quicker, but he knew Rory had lost her purpose, so he offered it to her on a silver platter.Pride almost kept her in LA. The thinly veiled excuse to get her out wasn’t fooling anyone, but the last straw came when her step father asked her a very simple question: “What’s left for you here?”. For her whole life, LA had only given her pain, hardship, and drugs. Now, the latter was the only thing left. So, she took the deal, and the girl who had never left LA booked a ticket for the other side of the world.

Now, Rory has been on the island for five months. It’s not exactly rehab, but the drug usage has diminished bit by bit, She’s starting to find her footing and become part of the community. She still has that chip on her shoulder, but putting her energy into building something feels good. She’s never built anything in her life, and the house with its extensive gardens needs a lot of work so it’s keeping her extremely busy. When she first got there, the first thing she did was immediately pick up a job as a local bartender because she hates being dependent on her step-father’s money, for fear of him taking it away (trust issues much). The LA dust and glitter is slowly clearing from her eyes, and she’s discovering a much kinder and greener world.

P E R S O N A L I T Y

Rory is super charismatic and thus far has been turning on her charm in order to further things in life. She doesn’t have to do this anymore, so her genuine warmness is starting to shine through more. She’s been stung by basically all the relationships in her life, so she holds real companionship extremely close, loyal to the end and extremely passionate and protective.

Bitch has trust issues and a bit of an edge though, so getting to that deep companionship is really hard.She’s also a rough kid, had to claw and fight her way through her life, so she’s definitely a little rough around the edges. She doesn’t open up quickly, and she has a quick temper that acts as a learned defense mechanism. She definitely has a nasty streak when it comes to defense mechanisms, and can be quick with her wrath.

Years on drugs leading up to this quieter life have made Rory a bit antsy, and though she still does some drugs she’s transitioning to chasing an adrenaline high - her addictive personality is always going to be her fatal flaw.

#kaos:intro #like this if you want to plot i'll come to you!!#about

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heroquills-a · 5 years ago

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s1lentsnip3r replied to your post: hmmmmmmmmmm……….. i feel like doing a random mun...

bet

cracks knuckles.

@s1lentsnip3r @chaosmixed @metallumdash

words can’t describe how impressed i am by how much you bring your muses to life bwaze. i used to like, not really give a darn heck about metal sonic at all? but after that first thread we had where sonic and proxy got into a fight, i was immediately hooked. you just do such an incredible job at fleshing out characters that i otherwise wouldn’t have really thought much of before and you just have this unique and interesting spin on them that feels fresh. i love the way you play the chao and whisper’s wisps and atia is just a little gremlin but i love them so much, and i’ve literally never seen anyone play chaos before. you just have this way of utilizing that potential that your characters and concepts have and it’s just really awesome to watch. i love it. absolutely a stellar roleplayer. absolutely stellar mun!!

@skyfcx @masterprotector @cosmcther

ties you to a chair. listen here little mister. youre probably one of the OG ppl in this rpc that i’ve lowkey looked up to since first joining. you’ve already heard it plenty of times already but your writing is just ?? stellar ?? from the way you use colorful idioms, expressions, metaphors, to how you capture movement and action in such an engaging way. it’s always a treat to read. the way you portray your muses is just always spot on and i love how seamlessly you capture their mannerisms and speech patterns. your headcanons for tails and knuckles just make me so giddy they just feel so right for their characters, and as far as rosalina goes--- while i know next to nothing about the mario franchise or this character in particular i’m still intrigued enough to peek in on what she’s up to every now and then. over all, you’re a rad roleplayer and a fun person to chat with ooc !!

@chaosbcrne

i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again. i adore how you write shadow. i’m constantly blown away by how authentic he always feels and how realistic you write him while still remaining accurate and true to his character. like i legit cannot even think of any other place or media i’ve seen besides the games themselves (before sega started botching up his character anyway) where he’s portrayed as accurately as you write him. you manage to balance the serious, aloof, hostile side of him with his playful, competitive, smug side AND the inner naive, almost child like side almost perfectly. and then there’s more, because you add so much depth to him and realistically expand on so many unexplored facets of his character and his roots !! you can just tell this is a character who’s endured so many hardships and is still trying to recover and move on, and despite everything that’s hardened him into the person he is today he still has that innocent curiosity about the world and it makes me so emo every. single. time. you just put so much work into him and it shows, from your icons to your headcanon posts, to even the most minute detail. even when you host events you just go So Hard at it you’re literally out here setting the standard dude. and don’t even get me started on your writing style. i was hooked by the very first thread we did, i felt like i could never hold a candle to it honestly. just. the way you narrate shadow’s feelings and thoughts, how you capture his actions, his movement, his speech patterns, is just so good. and your vocabulary is so colorful and rich. just. hgnfhg its top tier content ALRIGHT you inspire me to push myself and to keep improving all the time and i have to say i couldn’t ask for a better writing partner. i love you so much eph 💕💕💕

@1110-01111011

hello yes trikey i love your omega so much. i’ve never really thought much of the death bot before but seeing all the headcanons and fleshing out you do for him just makes him so much more interesting and fascinating. down to the most intrinsic detail you put in for him it’s just really cool to see and adds so much to him that just !! i love it man. every time i think abt omega now my mind just automatically goes back to your portrayal because he is Just omega. i appreciate all the depth you add to him and his relationships to the rest of his team, it’s so pleasing to see and really helps solidify how strong team dark’s dynamic truly is..... not to mention your art is hecking gorgeous??? like damn dude, goals. anyway,, thank u for the blessed omega content. absolutely 10/10

@coolxnxblue @oforbis @hcrofraid @mastcrplanncr @powderbluestreaks

toxi i immediately fell in love with your sonic the first time we ever interacted. you just capture his sass so well, i just could not stop giggling that first night. he’s still my favorite sonic in this rpc, to be honest. and don’t even get me started on your other muses. it still baffles me how you manage to take on such a huge raster of characters yet manage to flesh them out all so well. every one of them feels so evenly developed and solid and just like bwaze you make me care about characters that i otherwise wouldn’t have before. i feel like i have a huge newfound appreciation for eggman bc of you and unsurprisingly he’s now my fave eggman on here hands down. and it goes without saying your writing is just, phenomenal. you capture dialogue so beautifully, the way you narrate on the feelings your characters are experiencing is engaging, to the point i’m lowkey intimidated by it sometimes LMAO. also your AUs are just rad as hell? and rlly interesting?? and your art style too ????? 10/10 roleplayer, i just think youre neat.

@antibadnik @godcontained

hey you? yes you. i love your muses so much. i especially love how you write amy, to be honest. she’s been my favorite character since forever and like?? you do just such a good job with her? i appreciate that you choose not to erase her intense affection for sonic, because more often than not i see people tone it way down to almost non-existent and it really is just such a big part of her character. i like the way you delve into that mindset of her’s, and expand on it and how it affects her. i also just. love your writing too. you just have this way of conveying feeling in your writing that’s always a punch to the gut you can feel it that hard. your headcanons for elise are really interesting too and definitely nothing i’ve actually seen before, what with how her powers work and how having to go emotionally dormant has effected her after all this time. also, i love ava. she is baby. it’s so cool getting to see a mute character!! all in all, its just good content man. god i love football.

@team-phantom @heartfelt-silver

pandaaaa i adore you !!! you were like my first friend in this heckin rpc. all of our dash shenanigans always have me wheezing and i just love your boys so much. i can certainly say without a shadow of a doubt that zero is one of my favorite takes on infinite. its hard to believe that he’s the same jackal who almost completely helped eggman take over the world--- he’s just come so far, he seamlessly fits into the rest of the cast. i adore how he works off of his team, and all their own unique little quirks that set them apart from each other. your headcanons and lore for your muse is just so sweet. and god i can’t get enough of your art?? your doodles always are a blessing to see ;-; i always appreciate you youre just such a sweet and kind mun, you’re so welcoming of ppl here and have this way of making ppl feel at home in this community. it absolutely wouldn’t be the same without you. keep it up <3

@lightdash @heartlop @enrichedheart

YOU. yes you. ame you’re so freakin’ cool and sweet. you’re always so nice and welcoming to people in the rpc it’s always a treat getting the chance to talk to you !! you’re another one of those peeps i look up to in this community TBH and youre muses are just portrayed and written so well!! i can just tell you’ve poured many years of thought, consideration, and work into your muses to the point that they’re just so finely tuned. i love the aesthetic you utilize for you blogs, from your icons to just the way you go about formatting your threads? and not to mention, your art style ??? is just so cute ??? ngl i lowkey wanna collab with you one of these days bc i just adore how you draw the sonic cast ;_; thank you for being a part of this rpc !! you’re wonderful !

@projectlightfox

moggg you’re so nice and chill to talk to. i love volt and harmony so much... they fit in really good with sonic world and mesh well with just about any characters i’ve seen them interact with so far--- even if its someone they don’t get along with. i’ve said it before but theyre just a really charming little duo and im always happy to see them on my dashboard. i love the overall aesthetic they got going, two travelers roaming the world from dimension to dimension. harmony is just a little bundle of precious fluffy joy and her interactions with sonic always make me cry. and volt--- he’s such a good dad !! he’s a really neat character and i’m certainly interested in learning more about the both of them. and as i said, you’re a rad person to talk to, i appreciate how welcoming and supportive you are of people. and your art style? absolutely adorable. thank you for being in this rpc ;-;

@dieviskais @solfading

king!! i’ve never seen anyone write the way you do, choosing to shift the view point onto the reader as if they themselves are the muse. it’s such a unique and interesting way to look into your muse’s mindsets and express how they are feeling and what they’re doing. your take on silver is very fresh compared to the way he’s typically written. i appreciate you don’t take the baby silver uwu route like don’t get me wrong he IS baby but he’s not a baby. you certainly have really neat headcanons surrounding his backstory and how he grew up, it’s nice to see the grim reality of his harsh bleak life being represented. it’s good !! your other muses are intriguing too and i’m eager to learn more about them. i love auburn?? he’s a really cool oc dude his aesthetic and powers are A+. and you know, i may be terrible at expressing it but you’re a delight to talk to!! never feel bad or discouraged for popping into my dms i honestly appreciate the company ;-; thank u for being u

@orbviously / @cubeviously

THESE TWO BOTS. i love them so much. literally every time i see orbot or cubot now in any context i just think back to your portrayal of them hebby, they’re just so dang spot on and good. i love how you go about interacting with people with these two tbh it never fails to make me giggle. i love your art style too it’s just pleasing to look at! you have so many creative AUs for these bots i’m honestly impressed by how much you manage to create with these guys man--- from their human/bot designs to their mobianbot designs theyre just so cool ?? even your other muses are always entertaining to watch regardless of what fandom theyre from youre just so fun to interact with. and just, you’re always a pleasure to talk to ooc, youre always putting a smile on my face! youre awesome hebby

@fishing-purple-cat

yes hi. sunny your take on big is so blessed. you’ve done so much justice for him. i’ve always really liked big tbh but i just love how much depth you put into his character, his backstory and his mannerisms. i love that you like,, actually give him a personality outside being a slow thinker. i can tell you’ve really developed your writing style with him, it speaks volumes about how much work you really put into writing him and it shows? heck, you even go the extra mile to draw your own icons and hang on i need a second to gush about your art because holy DAMN dude. your anatomy and painting abilities are nothing short of impressive--- especially your nack for painting backgrounds. i srsly gotta commission you at some point when i’m able to, heck. anyway, the rpc certainly wouldn’t be the same without you here

@lnfinitc

dude i love your take on infinite. he’s just about everything he should have been in forces, and even more. i love how malicious and intimidating you write him and your take on his speech patterns is just straight up eye-candy. i love your writing style, its so flavorful and rich--- your headcanons and lore on how infinite works is just astounding. and i like how you incorporate your drawings into your replies or threads too like even if its just icons your style is so heckin pretty ?? gosh dang. i’m definitely looking forward to interacting more in the future bc ur muse is just really fun and you seem like such a rad person !!

@pistolbitten

uhhh hello yes... while we haven’t interacted very much so far i JUST GOTTA SAY, i super enjoy your take on fang. from what i can tell he’s very well-rounded and fleshed out and a really interesting villain. i may or may not’ve been lowkey paying attention to that angel’s thesis thread you were doing w bwaze and aaron and i gotta say. holy damn. fang just done FUCKED UP. im certainly looking forward to him and shade interacting lmao. your writing style is so good too hh... just yeah i don’t have a whole lot to say if only because we haven’t interacted as much as i have with some of the other ppl on here BUT i certainly am looking forward to bc you seem cool. i’m loving what i’m seeing so far. have nack shoot sonic. DO IT.

@mobian-merc @funis-infinite

duuuudeeee. i’ll be honest i was super intimidated by you at first asdkjsah i don’t even know why i was ??? but like. you’re so hecking nice and fun to talk to ;_; scourge is an actual literal dipshit yet you manage to make him very likable and you have such a fun take on him. i’ve always been a little conflicted on the character tbh because of how popular he is and he seems like the type i’d like but i knew nothing about him and was kinda put off by the over hype sometimes, but honestly? your portrayal won me over. i love him now. he’s so stupid and hE’S GREAT. your infinite also seems so cool too i gotta hecking respond to that starter you made me when i get the chance, im looking forward to infinite & sonic just. talking and sassing eachother probably. i really like your writing style too!!! and your icons are absolutely gorgeous ok. alright, that is all.

@flyinginfreedom

uhhhhhhh hello i love your rouge so much ???? she’s literally so cool... you capture her aesthetic and over all mysterious yet cunning vibe perfectly and it’s just always a pleasure to see her on my dash. i loved her interactions with sonic during eph’s roadtrip event so much. your headcanons just feel so her and spot on, and you still manage to add so much depth and personality to her i just love it so much. i love your blog’s aesthetic down to the icons, and even the way you format your threads. over all just a stellar rouge blog and a really cool & chill mun!!

@rosehammcr @antihedgehog

hi rosie uhm i love your amy so much ok. she’s such a sweet heart, i love how you incorporate her tarot cards ?? it’s literally so cool... and the accuracy on those readings is shocking. she’s just such a sweet heart god i’m getting emo thinking abt her tbh like amy is !! one of my fave characters and !! you write her so well !! and your eggman too, god he’s incredible. i love how sinister yet goofy he can be he’s just a perfect combination of intimidating and silly. your takes on orbot and cubot also bring a smile to my face and i love how you incorporate them into your interactions!! you also just seem like a rlly rad person and i’d love to interact more !! yeah !

@a-wind-of-freedom

yuniiiiiiIII !! you’re such a sweet heart and your sonic is too. i’ve never seen someone play sonic the way you do before and it’s certainly interesting and unique !! you’ve got so many neat an thought out verses and AUs too, theyre all really intriguing ! our interactions with our sonics are always rlly blessed tbh starlight is just precious. i always appreciate getting to work with you as well for commission stuff, you’ve really been helping me out in that regard. plus you give me something artistic to work on and the chance to push my talents ! ;-; all in all you’re just a really sweet person and have a kind aura about you ! ;;

@champiionic

clears throat. hi yes you’ve been one of my fave sonics since day one. you’re just so creative with your muse its honestly impressive how many things you’ve able to come up with for sonic. from the portrayal you bring to the table down to your muse aesthetic its always just spot on you’ve got the blue speedster’s whole vibe down to a T. and your writing is just ? kisses my fingers. beautiful. your sonic is just so dang authentic, seeing him on my dash is always a pleasant sight. and i know this post is namely about sonic rpc muns & muses but i already love bubbles and blossom. i used to watch powerpuff girls when i was rlly little so its a real nostalgia trip to see them on my dashboard.

@hcpebloom @rcsebloom

bunny !! ur heckin sweet.. i love ur amy so much HSDFHDJ she’s just so soft. and unique too!! your headcanons for her are just so cute and make her stand out in her own way and i just appreciate that yo. and i admittedly don’t know a whole lot about cosmo since i havent really watched that far into sonic x but you’ve certainly got my attention with her. we just gotta interact more man ur muses are so precious !! ;_;

@fortruechaos

you !! your shadow is so good dude ! your portrayal of him is just so hecking accurate,, i highly appreciate how noble you write him to be. he’s serious, he’s prickly, but he’s got the world’s best interest at heart and it makes my heart do the fluttery thing. your writing is so good too gosh. no to mention youre just so hecking nice ??? youre just overall a rlly sweet mun & i appreciate your presence here in the rpc

@glittcrngcld @livelifc

hey fretcher ? ily. your muses are just so good from your canon characters to your ocs, i just love them sm?? and your ART? i swoon every time i see your doodles on my dash i’m still not over those doodles of lilly and azure ;-; not to mention your edits are scarily good like shit dude teach me your ways. your takes on your muses are awesome man i love ur sonic he’s such a MEME. and elise !!! she makes me so emo god. thank u for your blessed portrayals of these characters ! @elektrisch-felidae

YOU. precious is just, precious?? HAH. i love her, she’s so cool tbh. she’s so chill and laid back and seems like the kinda cool cat sonic can totally vibe with. you yourself are also rlly chill and fun to interact with--- even if we haven’t much so far. its no secret i just love sonic ocs so much and precious is just awesome. i love the idea of electricity powers. absolutely need to have sonic hang with her more ;;

@coldheartbeauty

SPEAKING of cool cats with cool powers, i love raven. her sass is just super entertaining to see on the dashboard tbh. i have to see her and sonic get into a sass off one of these days. her powers are also really cool too ? she reminds me of blaze in a sense, but just completely different in her own right. i also just hella love your art style its so cute, your doodles are always adorable to see!!

INHALES. ok. im done. if i missed anyone i am so sorry i ran out of steam. thank you all so much for making this rpc such an entertaining, dynamic, and creative place to be !!!

#🌀 — later guys! i’m outta here! ❪ ooc. ❫#i'm not tagging y'all down here LMAO it'll take me forever to #but yes #y'all are fuckin talented i have a whole lot of love for this rpc #lays down #okay im done #i'll be over in my sap corner if you need me

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sarasfm · 5 years ago

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Sarauniya “ Sara ” Davies, 24, pansexual, cisfemale, ISFP Enneagram 9w1; Pisces sun, Sagittarius moon, Pisces rising 1st year Advanced Encryption Major; did not go to a spy prep hs

Imma keep it real with you, chief, I have absolutely no idea what’s going on. I mean, obviously, I know what espionage is ; I’ve read books and articles, and I’ve seen Spy Kids and all the Charlies Angels and James Bond movies, but I genuinely think I need a minute to wrap my head around everything. Make that two weeks, because what’s this I hear about two murders ? I literally just got sent here to be safe, I — I’m sorry, I’m freaking out. Give me five seconds, and we can start again, because I promise I can totally pretend this is all normal. @gallagherintro

full name: sarauniya “ sara ” davies

dormitory room: 105

birthday: 20 march 1995

soundtrack: “ go gina ” by sza

favorite dish: efo riro

aesthetic: when i see them walking around in the halls, i usually see a flash of light reflecting from her earrings, eyeglasses perched on top of her head, and a caviar iphone always in her hands

Bio Points

her mom’s a nigerian baddie billionaire & her dad’s a soft academic brit

she grew up between london and abuja where their family’s business is based. it’s a trading enterprise, the largest industrial conglomerate in sub-saharan africa

she’s the eldest of three siblings, was raised to be prim & proper and groomed to run their family’s business. her family’s not pushy though and they’re really cool. very healthy dynamic so she doesn’t mind ; she loves her fam and would do it w a smile !

Coding is her Passion though. total dork. stayed up all the time just sleuthing and being an internet geek since she was a youngin’

loves education and is the type who would willingly stay in school to learn. has a degree in economics from harvard and was almost done with her mba when her littlest sister got abducted ! was it about business ? money ? who knows ! the sister’s fine now but her family sure is Scared especially since sara’s alone in the big bad united states

her mom made some calls and went “ gimbiya, look, u aint safe n we sorry. we’ll work something out to make sure u get ur mba degree somehow but shit is wild so we gotta get u somewhere near that’s safe asap. u like studying & ur a geek with computers right ? cool beans, go back to school & welcome to gallagher, babe ”

she enters gallagher in the middle of the spring semester very overwhelmed & inwardly ignoring how unhappy she is about having to be here bc she is not & does not want to be a spy. she just tryna distract herself by looking at this entire thing as a weird vacation where she can do stuff she wasn’t able to before because it’s literally detached from the world. she is mostly probably in way over her head, but let’s see !

Other Information

Nicknames: Sara (to everyone), gimbiya (to family, means princess in Hausa)

Languages: English (native), Hausa (native), Arabic (C1), French (B2)

Strengths: is money a strength ? also coding. and being the sweetest. and a general smartypants but that’s in a university setting & gallagher probably doesnt give a fuck

Relationship History: only has one (1) experience. ( well,,, 2 if a three-second drunken kiss w kass counts ) his name’s royce and they’ve known each other since their bougie secondary school back in britain. started dating at sixteen and went to harvard together. they’re long term as fuck. he’s like her best friend and their families adore the couple & each other. got engaged last september and sara broke it off before leaving for gallagher, oof. she deadass milked the opportunity but lbr she wasnt rlly Feeling It so she’s kinda glad for the ‘valid reason’ to appear bc it rlly wasn’t Love for sara so boy bye

Physical appearance: 1.76m, 55kg, long black hair, slim and toned build

Classes: GEN 105, GEN 206, AE 101, AT 101, PE 101

Personality

the sweetest. v charming & sensitive to others & curious about things. enthusiastic too ! loves adventures & is very passionate. queen of empathy.

she’s not stuck up even tho she loaded. she doesnt rlly talk abt her family having 12B or the fact that she’s an ivy league girl, bc she’s just generally very uwu

easily stressed and flustered and overwhelmed ! man, gallagher’s gonna shook this goddamn academic dork to her core for the love of god someone pls get the aed ready

rlly fun !!! can be a lil unpredictable bc it b lyk dat for rich girls. loves her independence which she hasn’t maximized bc of her ex fiancé & responsibilities but it’s chill so chill totally chill, no ounce of further longing exists in the crevices of this girl’s heart

she is so not good with confrontation and is so allergic to conflict ok. she will sweep discomfort under a rug and lie on it ‘til it’s flat which makes her a queen of repression & conforming

is she easily overwhelmed & stressed ? yes, but she’ll try not to show it so much. it’s all mostly an internal monologue so don’t underestimate her pls. she’s v smart and competent. can be so competitive ( albeit mostly inwardly ) and a boss ass business bitch like her business momma bc that’s what she’s been training for altho she is still generally a soft bab so ... yeah, if u would be so kind as to Estimate her, that’d be grand

she needs to always be on top of her game. maybe not the best in the class, but definitely pushes herself to be her best, so a lot of late nights studying & won’t settle for bad grades ever. gonna be rough in gallagher bc she is not spy material ok, she’s just a pretty rich geek behind a computer

just imagine her as the nice girl in ur ap classes who’s a lil awkward & just so happens to be super hot & stinking rich

Fun Facts

has a six-month old rescue pup named sooty ! who kinda looks like a sheparnese

has a tendency to ramble if she’s comfy w u enough or mayhaps if it’s too much man

is v diligent w keeping a journal & does it everyday

likes to dance ! not super good but she likes it. hits da clubs for dat shit

is a lil instagram famous bc she’s a gorgeous rich harvard girl & all that jazz. queen of selfies & of looking hot but doesn’t actually get to play around rip ffff

doesn’t drink much bc she is an extreme lightweight and 2 is her tap out limit

if she’s had more than 2 drinks, she is Very Honest but still very ramble-y

she is physically active but mostly just runs and does yoga. knows very basic self-defense. is not sporty, definitely not a fighter, may god have mercy on her soul

isnt a virgin but is not sexually experienced lmao lbr she kinda Itching to get out there

don’t ask me what her accent is because i have no clue it’s all over the place

Established Connections — just bc i think y’all would like to know

kassandra sutton — internet friends ! loves kass to bits. have known each other since sara was 14. when kass was 18, sara took her on a grad trip to montreal and became a lil lowkey into her. doesn’t help that kass drunk kissed her & doesn’t remember lmfao. poor sara told her then-bf & they had a lil fight but they made up bc sara didn’t talk to kass for months. eventually they became friends again & now sara’s in gallagher w no idea that kass is a mf sutton & honestly, my girl is just very shook w everything

Possible Connections

crushes — she does not know how to flirt. she is ,,,, p pathetic tbh but a real heckin cutie. will be super nice to ur bab ok

flirtationships — sara and i r gonna continue to keep it real w u chieves, her ex fiancé royce was vanilla and bland as fuck. can u believe she has not been single in a decade ? ? someone give her love & attention & fluster this soft innocent child. get her Experienced but also dont hurt her

enemies/angst !!! — or maybe do ! maybe hurt her. maybe obliterate her. maybe smash her poor heart to pieces, because tbh i would love that. so someone pls for the love all things holy and divine, someone hurt her !!!!

fwb — probably just one (1) bc she’s still a romantic ? and she’s probably gonna want something exclusive even if it’s no strings attached and will surely want to ,.,. get to know them a little bit more first ,,, at least ideally , idk , maybe impulse & thirst gets the better of her one of these days who knows lets find out !

friends !!! — sara will love u ok. she may be a lil easily flustered but she’s doesn’t rlly give up on ppl quickly. as i’ve said, queen of empathy. probs feels v sorry for majority of the gallagher & georgetown kids bc, .,.,., this environment just screams highkey Trauma to her and she’s valid bc she’s right

mentors !!! — she hates feeling dumb ok she Always has to be on top of her game, so u can bet ur ass after her first meetings in her classes she goes to ppl going “ hey could u help me out w working out ? boxing ? firing a gun ? literally everything & anything ? ”

anything & everything — meaning just come @ me & let’s talk about it uwu

( did i just create georgina’s antithesis ? fuck yes, and i am sooo excited to have a child that’s not always plotting & scheming & being mean like y’all have no idea ;_; nywy, that was long bc shutting up and brevity are things i do not possess. whats up it’s ur og flower garden girl rose here aka bugleweed aka fiancée of many and lover of all, and i am open to anything and everything ! just drop an IM or hit dat like & ill slide in ur dmz w love, plots & sanitized hands x )

#gallagher:intro

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goodmcn · 5 years ago

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* 𝖇𝖎𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖘𝖙 𝖌𝖗𝖊𝖊𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘 to all u skinnie legends out there who i am BURSTING at the seams to write w ! i’m 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 , i go by 𝑠ℎ𝑒 / 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 pronouns and am full of excitement to get some kickin plots started w my lil charmer son , 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒉𝒊 ! he’s a relatively new muse i’m trying out so forgive any of the kinks i’m workin out ! unless u like that shit which in that case u go boo and i love u . all likes will result in me comin to u for plots so make sure to love that 𝐥𝐢𝐥 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 down ! without further ado , here comes ur new resident boyband bf with dimples n commitment issues ! :~) :~) :~)

𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 here and do i have the tea for you . 𝒃𝒐𝒅𝒉𝒊 is back on campus , which is surprising considering the threatening note i left them . yes , i know all about 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 because of their 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝 . imagine the tabloids and how the 𝒈𝒐𝒐𝒅𝒎𝒂𝒏 family would feel for such information to come out , not to mention the reputation of 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐦𝐚 because of their actions . at this rate , 𝒉𝒆 is better off staying put in 𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐮 , 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐚 and living off that $966 m family net worth . what’s the point in studying 𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐲 with plans to 𝑪𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵 𝑼𝑷 𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑻𝑶 𝑩𝑬 𝑻𝑨𝑲𝑬𝑵 𝑺𝑬𝑹𝑰𝑶𝑼𝑺𝑳𝒀 𝑨𝑺 𝑨𝑵 𝑨𝑪𝑻𝑶𝑹 , is it worth it with what i know ? anyways , they may want to continue to be 𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 & 𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄 because the 𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒆𝒕𝒖𝒐𝒖𝒔 & 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒄𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒕 attributes make me want to spill . ( 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓𝑔𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑛𝑜𝑣𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑧 , 𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 , 𝑝𝑠𝑡 ) .

* TRIGGER WARNING : drug mention , death mention

⋆ ╰ 𝑺 𝑻 𝑨 𝑻 𝑰 𝑺 𝑻 𝑰 𝑪 𝑺 .

𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆 : bodhi alexander goodman 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 : bo , b 𝒃𝒊𝒓𝒕𝒉𝒅𝒂𝒕𝒆 / 𝒂𝒈𝒆 : june 6 , twenty - one 𝒛𝒐𝒅𝒊𝒂𝒄 : gemini 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒚 / 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒔 : cismale identifying with he / him / his pronouns 𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : to be determined ! 𝒐𝒄𝒄𝒖𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 : student at hworth majoring in anthropology and minoring in performing arts , member of ( undetermined vc / name but their artist - claim is PRETTYMUCH ! 🥴 ) , aspiring actor 𝒉𝒐𝒈𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 : gryffindor 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒕𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝒊𝒏𝒔𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 : jake peralta from b99 , finn hudson from glee , jim halpert from the office , han solo from star wars , sonny carisi from law and order svu , prince naveen from the princess and the frog

𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒊𝒕𝒔 : - impetuous , remiss , hedonistic , defiant , mercurial , afraid of commitment , truculent

+ benevolent , jovial , responsive , imaginative , assiduous , steadfast , sharp-witted , enthusiastic , magnetic , sympathetic

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑻 𝑬 𝑪 𝑬 𝑫 𝑬 𝑵 𝑻 .

001 : bodhi came into his family as the result of a closed adoption . he doesn’t know much about his birth family besides the few pictures his parents have shown him but he’s been told little to nothing about his roots besides the fact that his birth mother is also jewish . it’s not that his parents want him to remain in the dark about his past , it’s that they want to give him the choice to pick and choose what facets of it he discovers himself , and so far , bodhi’s been content living the life he knows : two loving parents who picked him of all people to add to their family .

002 : his mother , martha goodman , runs a foundation to empower women in leadership positions and makes a fortune running workshops and speaking tours . his father is the tv mogul of america . eric goodman has his own TV empire and runs shows such as the bachelor franchise , ER , will and grace , veronica mars , shameless , etc ( basically warner bros television productions . ) he grew up needing nothing , learning everything , exploring the world of the rich and famous with hollywood’s darling power couple keeping him grounded and putting a good head on his shoulders . while most in their tax bracket filled the expectation of the snotty rich families , the goodman’s seemed to have an ascriptive surname , building a reputation of themselves for being kind , self-made people who maintained humility and their good natures throughout their rises to fame .

003 : with a family reputation for being generally decent human beings , bodhi’s sparkling personality and kind disposition showed no deviation from this behavior , and he quickly charmed his way through every hollywood party or charity fundraiser his parents let him tag along to . there’s no expectation from martha or eric for him to be anything other than a good person , allowing bodhi to develop at his own pace and for that , he’s able to flaunt a relationship of mutual respect and absolute adoration of both his parents to this day ( a notably rarer and rarer thing in the circles he graces , it’d seem . )

003 : he’s well-liked throughout school , doing well enough in the sports he dabbles in to have a potential future in them , but it’s nothing that speaks to him the way the arts do . his teachers note his bright , inquisitive nature , the way he watches and recreates movements and noises with almost frightening precision , the tenacity and the desire for absolute perfection . it’s shocking , really , when his parents see his grades tanking around the same time he’s leaving middle school . they’ve given him what he wants , after all , without losing the perspective of discipline they mutually agreed upon . the private schools should be enough to keep him in line , but as it turns out , it’s nothing of their own intentional doing that leaves bodhi’s gpa with much to be desired . tired of his legacy being attached to his surname , he finds himself attracted to the way he makes people smile : at first , it’s the way he performs on a stage that gives him the approval he so craves , eventually , it’s the adrenaline that comes from intentional disobedience that starts to drive him .

004 : the headmaster of the ritzy high school he attends hesitates to label him a ‘ problem child ‘ — after all , bodhi’s well-liked among his instructors , has a thriving social life , and is actively involved in extracurriculars up to his ears . ‘ he’s not a bad kid , ‘ the headmaster explains to the concerned goodman’s , seated tensely in his office for a behavioral intervention meeting , ‘ he just makes some really , really bad decisions . ‘ and that’s to say the least , he notes : the list of his infractions include everything from harmless pranks and showing up to class hungover to provoking other students and being caught with illegal substances . they don’t condone such behavior , of course , but the school would never consider rejecting the decent sum his parents offer to scrub his academic record of such infractions .

005 : unwittingly , they fuel bodhi’s chaos . knowing he can get away with more and more than he ever considered possible , he carries on following whatever feels good or seems like it’ll fill his time . he hates sitting still and loves making other people feel good , a dangerous combination when fueled with the nearly 1 billion dollar empire his parents have at his fingertips . he’s saved only by his own charm and his family’s heft , getting out of dui’s and public intoxication charges without too much more than a salacious headline ( something he grows used to enough to remain unbothered by . ) it’s when he’s 17 and receives an offer from his first manager to join a group that he gets out of the rigidity of school that seemed to have been holding him back . it’s him and 4 other boys his age , meant to be something of nsync revamped , utilizing his musical inclination and dance talents to shoot him into the tabloids for reasons other than something that would scandalize his parents , for once . the group is playful and fun , and their fan demographic is mostly girls his age , so he’s more than pleased to finish school on the road during their first small scale tour through the US .

006 : while this gives him a new outlet for his energy , bodhi still finds himself in the occasional sticky situation with the law , much to his parents and now his team’s exasperation . his parents force him to enroll at hu as some sort of hope he’ll learn discipline , balancing his career and his studies , and for a while it works . recording during the school year and touring every other summer , bodhi strikes a balance that gives him some sort of fulfillment for a short amount of time — that is , until his mercurial side kicks into gear and combines with his natural hedonistic tendencies to cause one of the lowest of lows in his life . he’s halfway through his sophomore year when he feels a change of heart , losing passion for the now - boyish tendencies he’s become so comfortable with in his life , longing for something where he’ll be taken more seriously . he wants to impress , to blow people away , to make them feel , and while music has been there for him his whole life , he can’t help but think maybe he’s been meant for a stage or a camera and that’s what’s left him so empty . the prospect of having to tell his family and group he wants to throw it all away to pursue something he has no experience in agonizes him , pushing his nerves to the point he reverts to old habits trying to soothe them . he’s partying harder than he has in years with his close circle , much to the chagrin of a childhood friend who’s trying to talk him out of being reckless . he claims to remember none of the details of the night , but the memory of handing his best friend the first line of coke for the night and watching something go very , very wrong before bodhi’s able to follow suit is forever engrained in his memory . fucked up , terrified , and forever afraid of the very real responsibilities he’s faced with , he turns and hightails it out of the party . the police raid it a half hour later , and his friend’s death is ruled an accidental overdose on laced coke .

007 : bodhi doesn’t tell a soul about how he left his friend behind , about how he could have done something if he wasn’t such a fucking coward afraid of stepping up , and feels the loss deep inside himself every day moving forward . he ignores it by pushing his fun-loving disposition even further , trying to temper it with a push to be taken more seriously as an artist in order to make his transition into acting . he’s had small theater roles here and there and does a student film or two , but it’s nothing close to what he wants of himself . after all , hollywood wants a leading man , which bodhi has the absolute capability of being — if he weren’t so busy letting himself be consumed by his peter pan syndrome . he wants it all , to be taken seriously , but is unwilling to let go of the habits that keep him lodged in immaturity . always one to run from his problems , holling’s threats are now forcing him to face the reality of the consequences he’s tried so long to ignore . with his career , his family name , and his own future at risk , he’s being forced to recognize that good intentions aren’t always enough to keep him in one piece .

⋆ ╰ 𝑨 𝑵 𝑨 𝑳 𝒀 𝑺 𝑰 𝑺 .

001 : bodhi’s been something of a golden boy as long as he can remember , or at least some version of it despite his propensity for mischief . boy-ish , charming , with a heart perhaps too big for his body and seemingly allergic to anything remotely resembling responsibility . he’s a natural born leader when the event suits him — passionate and able to use his magnetism for bringing people together , but when he feels unmotivated , he’s about as helpful as he is good with his schoolwork ( which is to say : leaving something to be desired . ) despite this , he’s an outspoken advocate for good and through his jokes and headassery , will push for a message of benevolence and good energy .

002 : his bright , playful disposition makes him naturally magnetic . he’s a man’s man through and through but has a sensitivity engrained by his parents that lead him to respect all life , no matter the perceived or stereotyped value . despite his traditional ‘ bro ‘ demeanor , he’s quite respectful and his brash nature tends to avoid all objectifying or unbecoming commentary . with a devilish grin and an unparalleled enthusiasm for life , bodhi’s kind nature doesn’t seem so much of a pushover as someone who really just makes those around him feel alive . he has an air of self - assured confidence and mellow security , partnered with his belief that everyone has a value as a person and his kind , unrelenting eye contact , has the effect of bodhi making you feel like you’re the most important person in the room , solely by the way he pays attention to you . this is part of his passion , making others feel uplifted and important .

003 : his upbringing , despite not perfect , leaves him with a moral compass pointing a little straighter than what he’s found in some of the circles he frequents . despite a usually easygoing and breezy disposition , bodhi’s disdain for the egocentric or high - brow mindsets of his classmates often leaves them as the butt end of his jokes . he knows there’s no point in calling them out , so instead he takes a jim halpert - ian approach to their demeanors by pressing every single button made available to him . he gets an absolute KICK out of this and while he tries to leave the lady societies out of the equation of his teasing , many of his snotty sigma brothers have expressed quite the frustration with their wildcard member’s tendency to cause issues within their ranks solely for his own entertainment .

004 : despite having all the makings of a true leading man , it’s bodhi’s selectiveness with his efforts and fear of all things responsibility that leave him in neverland , a perpetual peter pan syndrome following someone who desperately wants to be taken seriously despite doing nothing to make himself more serious , thus his flaw of greed — he wants it all , but wants it given to him rather than work for it himself . he’s naturally playful , almost to a fault , using humor as a coping mechanism for his discomfort at some less than opportune times . having a heart as big as his leads to a level of sensitivity that sometimes teeters on being too much rather than too little — he’ll percieve slights that aren’t there , or take liberties with past conflicts as excuses to cause new conflicts of his own . he’s a perfectionist at heart , which leads to his tendencies to be all or nothing : he either will go after something with every intention of being the best , or will refuse to try at all . his inner confidence leads to an occasional miscalculation , biting off more than he can chew and leaving those around him to clean up after his mess despite his best efforts . he’s dedicated to certain people and causes but is otherwise unreliable , with a naturally fickle disposition that leads to some uncertainty as to whether he will really follow through or not unless it has to do with something or someone he’s expressed loyalty to in the past .

005 : LIKES TO FUCKIN MOVE ! he cannot fuckin sit STILL and u’ll always catch him bouncing his leg or wigging lmao he hates sitting down . sports were awesome for him but he THRIVED when he learned how to dance n honestly that’s one of his most notable talents . he fucking looooves to move , and lots of how he emotes comes from his body language bc he knows how important it is to be expressive in more than jsut your face , esp w acting . he’s left handed , LOVES animals , and feels most himself when he’s making someone else smile . he’s prone to random outbursts of musical inclination and is the one in his friend groups that often receives a ‘ bodhi SHUT UP ‘ because he’s trying to harmonize with the radio DFSDFSD . he’s more than willing to share his ecclectic collection of scars and scratches from the countless bad decisions he’s made , and has been a frequent star of barstool’s social media for some of his less - than - professional antics . there’s a running hashtag on twitter to make him the next bachelor but he can’t stay out of jail long enough for his dad to give him the green light KSFDJSDF

⋆ ╰ 𝐂 𝐎 𝐍 𝐍 𝐄 𝐂 𝐓 𝐈 𝐎 𝐍 𝐒 .

001 : exes - who doesn’t like a good exes plot :/ good terms , bad terms , on and off , whateva . give me someone he said ‘ i love you ‘ to in 24 hours , give me someone he dated for 6 months and never said it once , give me someone who he ghosted , someone who ghosted him , truly ANYTHING i am down to talk abt

002 : good influences - bodhi needs some ppl to help keep him in CHECK the mans can be a lil wild sometimes . im thinking 1 or 2 ppl who kinda work as his voice of reason when he can’t think straight n wants to dive off the roof into the pool to say ‘ bodhi no ! ‘

003 : bad influences - he’s a p good guy so i’d LOVE for some muses to bring out the worst in him

004 : hookups - he respects women by providing them w fire ass hookups n then never talking to them again KSDFKJSDHF im kidding , but fr he’s down . give me ongoing , former and ended badly , one night stand , all the TEA

005 : inner circle - i’m always a sucker for a good bro squad ( bro is forever and always gender neutral btw )

006 : party friends - this is self explanatory y’all !

007 : childhood friends from malibu / so cal area - he basically hasn’t grown up in like 12 yrs besides getting taller n buffer give me some childhood friends , a first love , former neighbors , even a mf pen pal ?

008 : friends w lingering feelings / skinny luvs - any of these in ANY extent would be desired and adored 😔✊🏼

009 : enemies / ppl who don’t like him / he doesn’t fw dfsfsd - bodhi’s pretty social but he kinda has this thing against rlly snotty rich kids so pls give me some high brow muses that he doesn’t get along w ! and makes his life’s effort to annoy n cause trouble w !

010 : fans ? - he’s in a boyband .. . . .. tbh it’s not the least likely thing in the world for him to have a stan or two at hu ? prettymuch n former 1D stans come thru DJFSJDHFKSJ

#holling:intro #im so tired of typing im sorry for this mess :/ SDFSDF #⎝ * 𝒃 . 𝒈 . › ooc .

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