#juliet must have heard all the romeo and juliet lines

[pinazee]

Psy vs. Psy

I genuinely think that if they were going to bring back any psych villian, Lindsay Leikin would pose the biggest threat. She knows Shawn isn’t psychic, she has adequate motivation to target him personally, and has the skills to prove he’s a fraud and do it slyly as she is also highly skilled in deductive reasoning (she did manage to get them to the counterfeiter to begin with so she has legitimate talent). She could even orchestrate it from prison. Maybe her parole was denied again so, like, what else is she going to do? Plus, she’s kind of nuts. Faking being a psychic with the FBI is a whole other level of bold compared to a local precinct, then she met a counterfeiter and was like yes please, more crime, then killed him when he tried to run, slept with Shawn that same night, then tried to take him hostage when she got caught. Its just a shame she wasn’t a bit more charismatic or eccentric. They had her play it as a very normal girl swept into a life of crime because of a guy (probably because she was a “love interest” for Shawn) when the receipts show she was an absolute lunatic (look at her face after they found the guy she killed. This bitch is smiling).

Also, she just kinda gave up when she was caught. I wish she’d have been screaming “he’s a fraud!” as she was taken to the car or even had a heart to heart moment with Lou Diamond Phillips because she did betray him after all. Idk, i just wanted more. (But i think maybe the writers recognized this and thats how we get Declan later??)

Gus is basically siri at this point. Between the archeology, safes, online poker, the law, tennis players, space, comic books, of course pharmaceuticals, and now studies tender from all over the world- its a smaller list of what Gus doesn’t know. Gus clearly likes learning. I’m surprised he never thought of becoming a teacher or college professor, to try to pass that love of learning to the next generation. Though i guess we see he’s not that great with people surprisingly, considering he’s a successful salesman. (OH MY GOD WHAT IF THIS WHOLE TIME GUS ACTUALLY HAD LIVED UP TO HIS POTENTIAL AND BECAME AN INTERNATIONAL SPY. He knows all these things because of his job, psychs only been able to stay open because Gus can fund it from his spy job, joining psych was a good front but he was also lonely from never getting to be himself. I kid, i kid, but its a fun idea for me haha)

No fucking way shawn doesn’t know what a drill is. Henry definitely would have beat that kind of man stuff into him. The military time too. I just felt the need to point this out. its like the show itself is dissing my boy and i have to defend him lol

I love when Gus is proud and smarmy over shawns talent. Look at his face here. My boy about to prove you wrong.

And do you think Shawn is actually afraid of competition or do you think he learned at an early age from his father that he didn’t have value unless he was the best? Huh Henry, huh???(Weekend warriors “you don’t want to be a loser” comes to mind)

Henry trying some reverse psychology here. I can’t tell if its because Henry is actually concerned for Shawns safety like he said he wasn’t in the previous episode, or if he’s still taking it personally that Shawns using the gifts he “gave” him to be psychic. Probably both. We know he was really bothered by his motorcycle accident, so i wonder if he’s been kind of spiraling, and adding up all the crazy situations he’s been in. (Which, i don’t think Shawn tells him about. i think Gus calls him like a weekly report haha) I think the fact that shawns cases are becoming more dangerous he suddenly doesn’t like the idea of him being a detective, well a detective this way at least, because i think in his mind he’d be safer if he was an actual cop where he had a partner with a gun, and back up, and rules, and training. I mean we know he wouldn’t be, (look at what happens to Lassie and Juliet)

I just wanted to gif this because it’s one of my fave jokes in the episode!

Mildred to the rescue! Im not entirely sure how this worked but it did and thats what matters haha

*Appropriate reaction is appropriate*

[daltonsluvr]

IN THE COMPANY OF THE STARS

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

summary: amongst the peaceful covering of the astronomy tower, you find an unlikely comfort in the presence of none other than theodore nott. (1.2k wc)

authors note: first little drabble to bring me back out of my writers slump - and who better than boyfriend no.1 to do so??

"Is this seat taken?" You turned around at the voice, to see none other than Theodore Nott standing behind you, his hands in his pockets, indicating at the space next to you.

Technically, the seat he wanted wasn't a seat at all. It's a part of the Astronomy Tower floor, of which you were sitting on, your feet dangling over the edge. You had a book in your lap, which had been left long forgotten as you looked ahead of you at the stars which danced upon the night sky. It really was the prettiest place in all of Hogwarts.

Slowly, you shook your head, and he nodded in response, taking a seat beside you. It's strange, you thought to yourself, watching him closely as he too dangled his legs out in front of him. The two of you knew each other from classes and such, yet had only interacted a couple of times, usually to ask for a quill or something along those lines.

You realised then just how weird you must have looked, watching him so intensely, and so you forced your attention back to the landscape around you, focusing on the trees ahead.

A few beats. 1, 2-

"You come here often?" he broke the silence first, turning to look at you. You hadn’t noticed until that moment just how startlingly beautiful his eyes were - dead, but with a softness behind them. It was entrancing, to say the least.

"Yeah," you answered, meeting his eyes. "The stars don't ask too many questions, so they're pretty great company when I need some peace." You hadn't meant for the comment to be funny, yet you watched as a chuckle escaped his lips: a beautiful sound, really.

"Didn't think you'd ever be a quiet person," he half-laughed, his eyes crinkling slightly. "Anyone could hear your voice from a mile off."

"Even the loudest of us need some quiet, sometimes," you responded, shrugging your shoulders, and swinging your feet slightly. "This must be a regular spot for you then, huh, given your notorious 'Mr Silent' status?"

The statement was true - this was the most you had ever heard the boy spoke, to anyone. It was his turn to now shrug, before leaning back on his hands. "You could say that."

You assumed the conversation had reached its natural end, and so you took the book you had on your lap and opened it to the page you'd bookmarked, and began reading.

"Romeo and Juliet?" A voice from next to you read, and you turned once more to see Theodore now reading the cover of the book, raising a brow in your direction. "You read muggle literature?"

"Shakespeare is one of the greats, I'd be stupid not to," you answered. Upon seeing the look on his face, you continued, "Don't tell me you've never read Shakespeare."

He shook his head, and you laughed, endearingly. "You are seriously missing out, Nott. Muggle or not, he's amazing. A real genius."

"Well, talk to me, then," Theodore looked down at you, his eyes piercing through your own. "Tell me about this guy and his books."

"They're plays, really," you started, almost unsure as to whether or not to continue. But he looked at you, almost daring you to continue, and so you did.

It was unusual for you to find someone so interested in talking to you, especially about something as niche as the works of William Shakespeare, but then again, Theodore Nott really wasn't like anyone you'd ever met before.

"-this book was one of the first my mother gave to me, and so its always been my favourite," you finished eventually, your voice growing slightly hoarse from talking so much. "Sorry for talking your ear off."

"No worries," he said in return, sending a small smile your way. "The b-play, certainly sounds interesting."

Looking between him and the book, you reached out to him, book still in your grasp. "Here, take it. To borrow."

He looked at you, almost questioning you with his eyes. "Why?"

"Everyone needs to read Shakespeare at least once in their lives, and I'm guessing none of your friends own any of his works, right?" He shook his head once again, and you shook your own in mock exasperation. "Honestly."

You coaxed him once again until he took the book from your hands, and you watched as he felt the cover of it. "It's a bit battered, because it's the one my mother got me when I was younger. And I have written inside it, so you may want to ignore that as well."

You got up, book officially out of your hands, and you dusted off your robes. Finally ready to go, you made to leave, until he called out your name. You turned around to look back at him.

"Thank you." was all he said, a smile lighting up his features with genuity.

"No problem, Theodore-"

"Theo."

"Theo. No worries, Theo," it was your turn to smile as you turned to leave, leaving the Slytherin boy alone.

— —— — — —

"A boy left this for you." A small first year girl approached you no more than a week later, a box in their arms, which they had outstretched towards you. You were sat by the window in your common room, Transfiguration homework in your lap as you worked through the questions McGonagall had set you.

"Did the boy leave a name?" you questioned, looking cynically at the box in front of you, which you had taken from the girl.

"No, he said you'd know who he is." The girl gave you a small fleeting smile, before skipping off, presumably to go and sit with her friends.

The box was noticeably small, and could be carrying nothing more than a couple of things, you thought to yourself, as you carefully opened it.

As soon as you saw the contents of it, though, a smile spread across your face, and you had no doubts of who the box was from. You had never pegged Theodore Nott to be one for dramatics, so you couldn't understand why he had decided to return your book in a box, but nonetheless you appreciated the sentiment.

You picked up the battered copy, the pages just as beautifully crumpled as before, and you found yourself smiling again. A note lay underneath the book, and you picked it up to read what it said.

The play was great - you clearly have good taste. Shakespeare truly is one of the greats. Astronomy tower at 8? — T.N.

Delicately folding the note and putting it in your robe pocket, you took back the copy of Romeo & Juliet in your hands, and began to flip through the pages.

His chicken scratch handwriting tattooed the pages - not overlapping the actual text or your writing, but still written as nearly as he could in numerous corners of the book.

You laughed as you read through a few of them, most of which were his sardonic comments about Romeo's idiocy, and in turn Juliet's naivety.

Eventually closing the book, you set it aside, and smiled to yourself. You weren't exactly sure how you'd found a friend in Theodore Nott, but you were certainly glad that you had.

[muffinsin]

Hey, I like to think castle Dimitrescu has a nice sizable garden. I like to think the family employs maids to upkeep the gardens alongside the vineyards; planting and designing elaborate flower beds, Roman statues, trellises, arbor gate, a beautiful hedge maze mixed with climbing roses, secluded seating in dead ends and an elegant fountain hidden in the middle. I also like to think that once spring has sprung, Daniela reads in the gardens rather than the library.

I also also like to think that one late summer night, a curious outsider scales the garden walls for the sole purpose of picking a rose. What they find instead is Dani, sitting by the fountain reading out loud Romeo and Juliet. Enchanted by the youngest Dimitrescu’s beauty, the outsider (fem g!p) admires from afar. Dani is reading Act 2 scene 2 where Romeo scales the capulet garden wall to see Juliet again (aka the balcony scene). She reads out a Juliet line, “How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, And the place death, considering who thou art, If any of my kinsmen find thee here.” Before she can continue, the outsider reads out the Romeo line, “With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls, For stony limits cannot hold love out, And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me.” Of course, this startles Dani at first, but soon she relaxes and finds herself taken by this dashing outsider. She gets the idea to test this outsider and see how long they can recite the story until things become…..too heated.

Lol I’m sure you can see a pattern with me. I love romance, especially the classics. Also, happy new year day!🎉

I absolutely agree about the garden!🪴 also such an interesting concept!👀 I’ll admit I’ve never read Romeo and Juliet lol so this might be a tad bit messier than I’d like it to be- won’t lie tho I had a lot of fun with it😬 Happy new year! 🎊 (little late as I took my time with this request, but still! Happy 2024 y’all!🎊)

Let’s get into it!

Masterlist 1

Masterlist 2

You barely manage to hold onto the stone wall as you climb alongside the small ledge. It’s cold, and slippery, and if it wasn’t for the vines covering it, you doubt you would be able to find your grip again at all.

Below you lies sure death by now, rocks and hills, thorns and boulders. You don’t spare it a glance now- never has looking down worked for anybody. You’ll just be able to return the way you came, all the way at the end of the ledge and into the tree that stands tall and proud.

A rose, is your goal.

You’re not sure why you’ve accepted this bet in the first place- to pluck a rose from the gardens of the Dimitrescu family. It’s by no means an easy task, much less one that promises safe return.

Maybe it’s your curiosity that led you to accept.

After all, the Dimitrescus are somewhat of a myth, merely a very real one.

You’ve never personally laid eyes on any of them, but heard the stories.

Stories of women, virgins, dragged off and made into wine. Others enslaved to work at the castle, at which a gruesome fate awaits them should they not perform well.

Other stories speak of a woman, a countess, taller than any man or woman one has ever seen. And three commanders, daughters.

It is said they are a family of royal standard, yet blood-thirsty huntresses willing to kill and slaughter innocent people.

You know of their distaste of men- everybody does.

And yet you have never seen them, not one of them. Are they truly as bad as they are made out to be? Are they filthy hags with bloodied limbs and large, unforgiving eyes?

It says it is curiosity that kills the cat, and yet you’re feeling exceptionally curious.

Perhaps, your questions will be answered at last.

You steady your grip as you near what must be the gardens of the castle. The summer air is warm, and even from the opposite side of the wall do you smell the scent of many blooming flowers.

You freeze momentarily at a voice. Have you been discovered?

No, the voice is faint, and dreamy. Soft, and beautiful. You feel as though pulled in.

Faster and more eager than you should, you scale the ledge faster, eager to see who this beautiful voice belongs to.

“What man art thou that, thus bescreened in night, so stumblest on my counsel”, the dreamy voice goes on.

You frown- you know this quotation.

For a moment you feel a small blush creep to your face- how fitting the line is, in a way. Only is it you who suddenly has their mind invaded by the calm, soft voice from the other side of the wall.

It’s soft and warm, gentle and yet- hopeful. Phrases roll off the sweet maiden’s tongue like honeyed words, from what must be honeyed lips.

You wonder- is this one of the women kidnapped by the almighty Dimitrescu family? A beauty trapped in the castle? You would free her, and yet beg her to sing her sweet phrases more and more.

You keep moving, you can see a bunch of thicker vines near you, perfect to climb the thick stone wall and make your way into what can only be the Garden of Eden.

“By a name. I know not how to tell thee who I am. My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself, Because it is an enemy to thee. Had I it written, I would tear the word.”, the dainty creature reads aloud.

You grunt quietly as you at last climb the thick vines. As though enchanted by a siren’s spell, your eyes immediately find the woman the beautiful voice belongs to, and are at once unable to gaze away from her for even a moment.

Auburn hair falls down her back and shoulders, glistening in the beautiful light of the moon. It has her skin appear almost white-grayed, the pale color a contrast to her dark clothing.

She is ethereal, you realize. You can’t make out the details of her face from a distance, the urge to move closer to her taking over your mind.

The beauty sits perched on a small, regal looking bench, surrounded by flowers.

You watch her pick one, a white, large one, and bring it to her face. Even from the distance you see her eyes closing in content.

She’s completely in her own little world, it seems. It’s a beautiful sight to see. Never have you gazed upon such beauty and purity.

Then, she giggles, and it’s as though your heart skips several beats.

The flower you are supposed to pick- there are plenty right within your arms reach, yet you can’t be bothered. Your eyes have set on a by far more perfect prize.

The beautiful woman smells the flower once more before picking up the book resting in her lap again.

“My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words. Of that tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound. Art thou not Romeo and a Montague?”, she reads aloud in an angel’s voice, though she is giddy now. She seems to be reading to the flower she has picked, as though it was her beloved Romeo.

You’re blushing, the next line well on your mind. Again, it applies to you.

“Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.”, you whisper to yourself. What are you- a burglar, technically? A villager?- neither, if she shall not like even one. You wish to be whatever she wants you to be, for her.

Soon enough the dainty creature repeats, gently, the words from the verse.

“Neither, fair maid, if either thee dislike.”, she hums. You fully climb over the wall, hidden by the shadows as you step into the garden.

This woman, you notice in the back of your mind, doesn’t seem like a captive. Like a helpless maiden. She seems powerful, yet delicate.

Upon getting a closer look, you notice her golden eyes nearly glowing in the darkness of the night. They’re beautiful, unique and breathtaking.

You yearn to touch the beauty, to feel her words of love and affection addressed to you.

“How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? The orchard walls are high and hard to climb, and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here.”, she reads aloud, and her voice is so soft, so enchanting and alluring, seductive and sweet, innocent and tempting all at the same time, you can no longer hold back.

“With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls, for stony limits cannot hold love out; And what love can do, that dares love attempt. Therefore thy kinsmen are no stop to me”, you blurt out.

She’s visibly startled, so much so that the flower falls from her delicate thighs and onto the stone pavement, her golden eyes bright and wide as she turns her head adorably, trying to find you.

It seems even before you step out of the shadows, she finds you.

Still, the beauty stares in bewilderment as you approach, stepping closer and closer. She takes a step back, gasping when the back of her knees hit the bench behind her.

To your shock, a sickle is summoned to her hand, and her position grows defensive. Perhaps it’s foolish that it took you until now to realize that the dainty creature is no helpless maiden, but one of the predators taunting the village and its inhabitants.

But, she’s pretty.

And so you march on no matter the risk, as though she was a siren and had lured you in.

When in front of her, you bend down somewhat gracefully to grasp and pick up the fallen flower. It’s shines in the moonlight, not entirely unlike the beautiful woman’s eyes.

When you rise and, with to Daniela surprising and never seen confidence, grasp her hand, you note a small, but surprised gasp coming from her.

Her hand is soft, but cold, and she gasps again as you bend down to place a light kiss to her knuckles.

How…romantic. You’re unlike anybody she has ever met or even laid eyes on.

The woman wordlessly stares, a blush on her pale cheeks making her seem more petite and innocent than she surely is.

As she accepts the flower back into her hand, words tumble from her lips- the continuation of the verse.

“If they do see thee, they will murder thee”, she whispers.

Unbeknownst to you, Daniela’s words ironically are a warning. If one of her sisters or mother was to spot you, you will be slain. Her eyes glisten with something- curiosity, love, hope, darkness. You feel as if you could drown in those beautiful pools of gold.

You hold her gaze. For some reason you find yourself deeply disappointed when her hand slips from yours.

She looks shy, yet seductive. She knows exactly what she is doing, and is yet cautious- you are an intruder, after all, with intentions unclear to her.

“Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye than twenty of their swords. Look thou but sweet, and I am proof against their enmity.”, you answer, stating Romeo’s verse.

Again, you seem to almost be responding to her warning in the poem of the beautiful words of the verse coming from your lips.

Then, a small promise falls from Daniela’s lips. Again, you would not know the true meaning of the spoken phrase until later.

“I would not for the world they saw thee here”, she says, and means it.

Her sisters will not find this delicious and intriguing intruder. You’re all hers, she decides.

You’re quick to respond to her.

“I have night's cloak to hide me from their eyes, and but thou love me, let them find me here. My life were better ended by their hate, than death proroguèd, wanting of thy love.”

You smile at her blush, as well as when you notice her breath quicken. This woman is adorable.

Daniela feels as though her head is spinning. She feels weak at her knees at your romantic words. This is like the most delightful of games!

The auburn haired woman grips the flower a little tighter, smirking at you as she smells it again and smiles.

With a light push to your shoulder, she walks past you, elegant in her slow and seductive movements.

“By whose direction found'st thou out this place?”, she asks, real curiosity burning in her golden eyes.

You see what she is doing, too. She’s testing you, to see how far you will be able to go until you cannot keep up with her.

As though you were the predator you know this woman apparently is, you stalk after her as she moves, admiration and want clear on your face whereas her is a perfect mask of seductiveness, hope and eagerness.

You don’t keep the beautiful woman waiting, instead answer proudly: “By love, that first did prompt me to inquire. He lent me counsel, and I lent him eyes. I am no pilot, yet wert thou as far as that vast shore washed with the farthest sea, I would adventure for such merchandise.”

The woman’s eyes shine at your answer, and yet as you reach out to grab her, she spins and keeps moving.

She’s a siren, and you’re eager to be pulled under.

Her fingertips caress the flowers she passes, the vines and even the cold stone wall. She rests on top of the stairs of a gazebo, excitement betrayed in her eyes.

You stare in anticipation, your greedy eyes taking in the sight of this woman. Her auburn hair falling gently and blowing in the warm wind, the black rose tattoo in her forehead symbolizing her house. You wish to trace it.

The choker necklace sitting snuggly around her throat, regal and gothic looking, with a single, green gemstone embedded in it.

Her large cleavage, exposed due to the V-Cut of her dress. You do your best not to stare, yet feel your dick twitching beneath your trousers at the sight and scent of the woman, the flowery and sweet one lingering in the air as long as she is only around. You feel your arousal rising with every passing moment.

She’s the most stunning creature you have ever encountered.

“Thou knowest the mask of night is on my face, else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek for that which thou hast heard me speak tonight. Fain would I dwell on form; fain, fain deny what I have spoke. But farewell, compliment. Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,' And I will take thy word; yet if thou swear'st,

Thou mayst prove false. At lovers' perjuries they say Jove laughs. O gentle Romeo, if thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully; or if thou thinkest I am too quickly won, I'll frown and be perverse and say thee nay,

So thou wilt woo, but else not for the world. In truth, fair Montague, I am too fond, and therefore thou mayst think my behavior light. But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true

Than those that have more coying to be strange. I should have been more strange, I must confess, but that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware, my true-love passion.

Therefore pardon me, and not impute this yielding to light love, which the dark night hath so discoverèd.”

By the end of her turn, she is in front of you, so close that you feel on fire, almost. Her hands, bare and soft, rest on your shoulders as she gazes down at you from the step she stands on. Golden eyes betray the arousal she feels, and give a hint towards the delusional “love” she believes to feel already.

It’s a dangerous game, and one you’re eager to play.

The woman gasps as you grip her hips, slim but soft, and allows you to lift her off the step.

Her golden eyes find you, tension building up farther between the two of you. Her gaze is piercing almost, as is yours.

“Lady, by yonder blessèd moon I vow, that tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops-“, you begin, smiling softly as she eagerly responds, her hands squeezing your shoulders as you squeeze her hips.

Her cheeks are warm and pink as she talks, the dainty creature only yours for this moment.

“O, swear not by the moon, th'inconstant moon, that monthly changes in her circled orb, lest that thy love prove likewise variable.”, she responds, breathless.

Daniela feels eager, and she spots the eagerness in your eyes.

You feel her so close to you, and it’s making your head spin. All in you demands you to lean forwards and capture the woman’s soft looking lips in yours.

“What shall I swear by?”, comes your breathlessly spoken reply.

“Do not swear at all, or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self, which is the god of my idolatry, and I'll believe thee.”

You can no longer hold back.

A small, surprised gasp comes from the woman as you grip her back and push her forwards, your lips capturing hers effortlessly. She hums and moans against yours, her small noises more erotic than any you have ever heard before.

She is a seductress, a huntress, and you are her all too eager prey.

“Tell me your name, Juliet, I must know”, you beg, words hushed and whispered against her soft lips. She’s panting from the kiss, hands rising to your neck.

“Daniela”, she answers. “Daniela Dimitrescu”, she adds, as though there was any doubt remaining to her true identity.

You capture her lips in a kiss lest she can speak again, your tongue addicted to the taste of hers again already.

Her little noises, her moans and gasps, hums and giggles do a number on you. You must not look or reach down to feel yourself become hard, and you barely refrain from groping and kneading the soft flesh of her body.

Softly, you lead her inside the gazebo, and an equally soft gasp escapes your lips as the woman pushes you down on the bench.

You must not yearn for her touch, however, as she straddles your thighs immediately and leans in for yet another kiss, her hands coming up to the sleeves of your blouse, tugging gently.

You know what she wants, and grant it to the beauty.

With a simple movement you unbutton and take off your blouse, eyes watching hungrily as Daniela slips off your lap to undo the corset around her waist. You watch greedily as she pulls its strings and it falls to the floor, then reaches back to pull open her dress.

One by one skin is revealed as her dress inches down- pale shoulders, perky, round breasts and hard, slightly darker nipples, a soft stomach and waist with smooth and wide hips, black panties in the way to see her most intimate part. Thick thighs and black, near transparent tights, black heels. You can’t help ogling the beautiful creature.

Daniela blushes under your gaze, climbing back onto your lap as she kisses you. Your hips settle on her hips again, and you feel your bulge press up against her covered cunt.

You want nothing but to press up, to grind against her.

“Perfect”, you whisper, trailing kisses along her sensitive neck. She’s moaning and whimpering on top of you, hands kneading your thigh only arousing you more.

She cups your bulge, and you near bite down on her pale skin. Groans slip past your lips as she gropes and squeezes, eagerly exploring your body with one hand on your bulge, the other traveling up and down your front.

“You’re ethereal. Breathtaking”, you moan. You feel her shiver and hear her gasp at your words. She’s adorably sensitive as you prod at her neck, kissing, biting and sucking, creating hickeys on pale flesh.

Daniela lets out a light gasp as your hands slide up to her breasts, squeezing and cupping them. They’re large and round, soft and firm. A pull of her nipples has the redhead arch her back slightly for you.

“So beautiful”, you whisper, like you at last receive your prize. She whimpers, moaning and mewling softly for you.

With desperation clear in her golden eyes, Daniela grinds down on you, her warm panty-covered core rubbing against your bulge. You feel yourself growing painfully hard and twitching underneath her. You want release, and you want to grant her hers.

“May I, my fair lady?”, you whisper against her neck, lips brushing against her bruised and marked skin as your fingers slide down and toy with the waistband of her underwear.

She nods quickly, eagerly. “Yes, my love, please”, she gasps all so happily.

As soon as she stands enough to allow you to slide her underwear off, her eager hands grip the waistline of your trousers. Eager, seductive eyes set on you yet again and you nod, lifting your hips enough for her to pull the clothing down and expose you.

Your eyes widen as she drops to her knees, a hand snaked between her own legs, her other on your thigh. She stares up at you, submissively and blushing, yet so eager and enticing.

“Please”, you whisper, a gentle command for her to take you in her awaiting mouth. Daniela doesn’t have to be told twice, head leaning forwards as she takes you in, humming and moaning around your tip.

It’s been ages since she’s had one, she feels giddy with excitement at the prospect of getting to play with you!

You tangle your hand in her hair, feeling the soft locks as she bobs her head and squeezes your thigh.

Her cheeks are warm, her eyes bright whenever she glances up at you. Moans ripple from her throat and your head spins when she begins to finger herself, dragging moans and mewls from her lips which’s vibrations bring you immense pleasure.

At the squelching sound of her pussy accepting her fingers inside, you wish for nothing but to bury yourself deep within her.

She takes her fingers well, and is, by the sound of her fingers thrusting in and out, soaked.

You yearn to feel the woman around you, bouncing on your cock and receiving it hard from behind as her adorable, sexy breasts bounce for you, then clean the beauty up.

“Y-Yes, you’re doing so go-good!”, you praise, which only seems to spur her on more. Daniela hums and smiles, hips shaking for a moment as she curls her fingers within herself.

Truly, she would much rather have you inside than her fingers, if only so she wouldn’t have to be as gentle as she must be with her sharp nails.

She tastes the precum dripping from you for a moment, giggling as she lets go of your cock and licks it up eagerly. “Good girl”, you groan, panting and moaning for her. You cup your own breast and guide her head back to your cock, shivering as the minx drags her tongue along you and sucks your tip clean.

You gasp at the feeling, the pleasure driving you closer to your orgasm.

She too feels close, her thighs trembling and her hips bucking up as her thumb grazes against her clit and rubs it as she thrusts her fingers inside.

With gentle, shaky hands you grab her hair again and guide her back to her previous position, moaning as your cock slips back inside her warm and wet mouth and she bobs her head again.

You feel yourself at the back of her throat, pushing up against her collar necklace the deeper she takes you and gags around you.

Your fingers twitch as you play with your breasts, and your head spins. You’re so close, but want her to cum first. So you hold back and continue on moaning and gasping, praises for her falling from your lips that only edge her closer to her own orgasm.

Thankfully, she is not far away from hers, moaning and whimpering constantly with a flushed face and a mouth full of your cum.

At last you notice her cum, her moans and muffled scream bringing you to your own, as you hastily pull away to cover her chest and lips.

You pant and buck your hips beyond control at the erotic picture of the beautiful woman painted in your cum. It drips from her wet lips to her chin, sticks to her chest and collarbone.

You waste no time to pull her back on your lap, the woman’s glee giggles causing a wide smile to form on your face. She’s got you wrapped around your finger, with her sweet voice and adorable appearance and giggles, her unique physique as well as her beautiful eyes- and both of you know this.

Her lips meet yours once again. As you taste yourself on her tongue, you feel the primal urge to taste her.

Daniela blushes shyly when her wrist is grabbed and brought to your face, your eyes taking in the shimmer of slick wetness that coats her fingers.

When you wrap your mouth around the digits, the auburn haired woman grinds down again. Her wet cunt rubs directly against your cock and your head spins at the feeling of her wetness smeared against you.

You hum around her fingers, tasting the sweet, candy-like wetness that must be her cum. You almost chuckle. The sweet flavored taste matches her perfectly.

Daniela watches panting as you suck her fingers clean completely, only letting go of her wrist once all wetness is licked and sucked away.

As you feel your cock hardening between your legs and pushing up against her, Daniela squeaks adorably. She grinds down properly, moaning and whimpering at the feeling of her wet and sensitive clit rubbing against you.

As much as you are a fan of her wet body humping your cock, you barely have any restraint left. All of you urges you to push inside the beautiful woman.

“Can I?”, you ask, wanting to confirm her consent to this. Daniela giggles breathlessly, her hips raising already and her hand reaching between her legs as she sinks down on you.

“O-Oooh!~”, she moans, her mouth dropped open at the feeling of having you slide deep inside of her. She’s shivering and grips your shoulders tightly, as though to adjust to the feeling.

You stay still despite your urges to take the dainty creature and fuck her sore, instead allow her this time to get used to the feeling. Still, your cock twitches and throbs inside of her, and her cunt clenches around you as if to milk you of your cum.

“You feel s-so good, my love”, she whispers, panting and moaning as she moves her hips a little.

“As do you, my beautiful Daniela”

The phrase makes her head spin and has her clench around you tightly. To be called yours so boldly is doing things to her. She doesn’t ever want to let you go! No, you’re all hers, intruder or not. Her sisters would never have to find out…

Daniela gasps when your patience seems to come to an end. You thrust upwards roughly, eager to feel her clench around you again; and you are granted this.

“Divine”, you whisper back, your hands at her hips as you work your hips. You thrust fast and deep, and watch in delight as the redhead moans and shrieks from the pleasure, her hands tightening on your shoulders, her breasts bouncing as she is fucked on top of your lap.

Daniela’s head is thrown back when you lean down and wrap your lips around her breast, sucking eagerly. Now you have a taste of her, you are sure she is what can only be described as utter bliss.

“Ah-ah! A-AAAh!”, she shrieks and moans, little whimpers and moans falling from her black painted lips. She feels you thrust deep into her and does her best to match your thrusts, grinding down and panting soon at your pace.

You don’t deny her, instead move your hand down to rub her small clit in tight circles.

She can’t remember ever being taken like this; raw want and lust displayed in the form of pointed, skilled thrusts into her, hands gripping her hips tightly to ensure she would stay in place right where you want her, as well as the way your lips wrap around her nipple eagerly.

“Ple-A-AH! Yes! Yes! AAHMORE!”

She feels helpless in the best way, succumbing to pleasure and love, whimpering and gasping for more. Her thick ass presses against your balls every time she grinds down again, and as your limbs ache, you feel her riding you eagerly.

Daniela’s hips buck helplessly after a short while already. You feel her tightening around you every few seconds, her chest heaving and her arched back causing her breasts to push against you tighter.

You lose your other hand from her hip and slide it up her ribcage, until you cup her unoccupied breast.

The poor redhead feels herself be brought to her orgasm fast; with your cock buried deep inside of her and her clit rubbed, her sensitive nipples squeezed and sucked.

Eager to repay the favor, one of her hands slides down to cup your breast. The dainty thing is a lot stronger and naughtier than she appears, her fingers bringing you pleasure with ease even as her hips rise and fall.

She looks graceful riding you, even as her head is thrown back and her back is arched for you.

“S-So close, A-AAAAH! Y-yes! YES!”

You bite down on her gently, tearing yet another squeak and gasp from her lips. Her clit feels warm as it throbs under your fingertip, the needy woman so close.

When she cums, she tightens around you, so much it takes all of your willpower not to cum inside of her yet. You don’t want things to end just yet, too caught up in her bliss.

Daniela gasps when within moments she is picked up and turned, instead leaned against the bench with you still inside.

The new position allows you to thrust even deeper into your sweet newfound darling.

It’s ironic in a way; your intention to pick and steal a single flower from the Castle gardens, yet you pluck the most beautiful and precious one for yourself

[sl-vega]

✧Sticking to the Script✧-11

⋆｡°✩ 11-possessive much?

a/n: go here if you want to read along with the original romeo and juliet lines

"No, no, no, not like that, you need to make the brush strokes more even so the paint doesn't get clumpy."

"Don't cut that fabric yet-!"

"NO THAT SET DOESN'T GO THERE!"

"Oh Archons, this is what happens when I don't let the professionals do the work." Furina groaned as she rubbed her temples.

You, Lyney, and Fischl all walked into the auditorium together, seeing Furina yell at a group of students. There were many unfamiliar faces. You were told that most of the stage crew couldn't make it today, but all of the actors could, so Furina had to round up a bunch of volunteers to help with the production.

Suddenly, you saw a familiar figure enter through the doors by the stage.

"I'm so sorry about being late Miss Furina, I brought you your Starbucks order though, Chiori told me what you usually have." you heard a voice that you had grown far too fond of.

"Oh! Thank you so much Xingqiu, you're a life saver. You can go help Kazuha make the props." Furina said, gesturing to an area on the stage.

Xingqiu gave her a quick nod. He noticed you from across the room and he gave you a smile and a wave before setting his stuff aside and making his way to the other side of the room.

Fischl playfully elbowed you. "So that's the guy that has you this smitten huh?" she teased. You giggled, hitting her back "Oh, shut up." you responded.

The three of you made your way over to Furina who was about to give a small announcement for the cast.

"Attention! We'll be running the prologue and scenes 1-5 in Act 1 and after that, all of you will be working on sets together." she explained. "Places in five!" she snapped her fingers as everyone scrambled to their positions.

The chorus recited the prologue as per usual, you and Lyney had gone on and off stage. You were mentally preparing yourself for the ball scene. The two of you had already done it before, but you felt guilty about it with Xingqiu in the room.

I know that we're not really together, but why do I feel like I'm being disloyal?

Scaramouche had exited the stage, which cued Lyney to approach you. You took a deep breath, getting yourself into character. You weren't (Y/N), you were Juliet now.

It's showtime

Xingqiu was cutting paper into the shapes of hearts. Kazuha sat right next to him making origami hearts. Furina had told them that they were to be used as decorations for the ball scene.

Though Xingqiu was more focused on said ball scene rather than making the decorations for said scene. You and Lyney were very talented actors. The two of you were so in character. A little too in character for his liking.

But it wasn't fair for him to get in the way of something that mattered so much to you. He told himself that he was so focused due to interest. He totally wasn't jealous. Why would he have a reason to be?

He continued cutting the hearts, even though most of his focus was on you and Lyney. Xingqiu's read through the play before, he knew what was coming. He still continued his poor attempt of mutlitasking, which in turn was a poor attempt at distracting himself.

Snip

"Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much. Which mannerly devotion shows in this;"

Xingqiu watched you place your palm against Lyney's.

Snip

"Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?"

"Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer."

You had moved away from Lyney, face flushed and bashfully smiling.

Snip

"O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair."

Lyney had grabbed your hand yet again.

Snip

"Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake."

Snip

Lyney had cupped your cheek, your faces inches apart.

Snip

"Then move, while my prayer's effect I take."

Lyney had kissed you.

RIP

Kazuha turned over to look at his friend, who had just ripped several sheets of paper with a pair of scissors. Xingqiu kneeled down to the floor to pick up the ripped paper. He piled them on to the seat next to him, preserving the pieces that could still be used.

"Jealous?" Kazuha asked his friend, smirking. "Me? Jealous? Why'd I be jealous?" Xingqiu replied, getting defensive, he forced a laugh. Kazuha gave his friend an unimpressed look.

"A little bit, I guess. It's not that I don't trust her, I do, it's just-" Xingqiu sighed, he didn't want to disclose the true nature of your relationship. "Complicated?" Kazuha asked, trying to finish his friend's sentence.

Xingqiu nodded, "Yeah, let's go with that." He tried to put all his focus on cutting the hearts this time.

"She's an amazing actress though." Kazuha said, complimenting your skills.

"Yeah, she is." Xingqiu replied, trailing off.

That's all you were doing

Acting

That's all your relationship was

Acting

additional notes:

-this takes place on a saturday btw (no wonder most of the crew wasn't avaliable)

-once again the flower gif means a pov shift

-TRIPLE UPDATE LET'S GO

-hehehe possessive xingqiu

-him taking out his jealousy on the poor paper- LOL

-i quoted romeo and juliet word for word for y'all

-ALSO KAZUHA CAMEO

-lol not me slowly intergrating kazuha into the plot now

-doing this for the lovely @uuyuomi btw

-what if kazuha is actually endgame guys? 👀

-anyways I'm proud of this chap

masterlist

<prev ll next>

✧Sticking to the Script✧

Pairing: Xingqiu x FEM! Reader

Genre: fake dating, strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst (?), high school smau, modern smau

⋆｡°✩-Synopsis: Xingqiu just got entered into a special writing contest, the type that's invite only, the theme this year is love, the only problem is that he has zero romantic experience. but he really wants to prove himself as a writer. meanwhile, you just found out that your boyfriend cheated on you, and you need to show him that you're 100% over him, the only problem is that there's no way you can get an actual boyfriend that quickly. clearly, the solution to both of your issues is to fake date each other. it shouldn't be hard for an actor such as yourself, all you need to do is stick to the script.

(OPEN) Taglist: @freyao7, @thatoneswordgirl, @sn1perz, @latay7, @willowcandletree, @nmriki0, @help-whatdoimakemyusername, @httpsrenren, @cupid-spams, @aixaingela, @kaitfae, @luvkvni, @danhenglovebot

[pommedepersephone]

Thinking a lot about nightingales, as one does.

Like much of Good Omens, there are just LAYERS with the symbols. And the nightingale is no exception. I've been thinking about how all these meanings play into Crowley's heartbreaking line (sobs quickly). So, quick review of what we are working with here:

The song “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square”

The lines from "Romeo and Juliet"

The meanings of nightingales in literature, specifically literature related to Christian theology

Berkeley Square, and a recognition of love

I am in agreement with @biceratops7 that "A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square" is meaningful not just because of their lunch at the Ritz in s1e6, but all the way back to 1941. It's a romantic wish they share, the idea of a time when they'd be free to speak to one another - not confined to clandestine meetings like a nightingale singing in the dead of night.

And they got a taste of that...

But the song is about more than dining at the Ritz (as much as Crowley LOVES watching Aziraphale eat). If this song reminds them of that very fateful night, it also reminds them of the power of trusting one another.

Romeo and Juliet, and a warning of danger

We all know these two love them some Shakespeare, so they'd clearly be well aware of the famous scene about nightingales vs larks.

Juliet: Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day: It was the nightingale, and not the lark, That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear; Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree: Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

Romeo: It was the lark, the herald of the morn, No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops. I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

It's a warning, no nightingales signifies extreme danger.

Literature, and a reference to resurrection

I have to say here that I am only somewhat familiar with the Bible, so I will accept any corrections! But after reading the OWLS, I looked into the symbolism of nightingales. They don't appear in the Bible per se, but they DO appear in medieval literature, specifically John Peckham’s Philomena where a nightingale singing is used to represent the Christian soul - the bird sings a final song about the Crucifixion and dies. It symbolized Christ's resurrection and the renewal of the soul after death. This meaning persists, and given the many references to resurrection in s2, seems important.

If we assume that the conversation at the end of s2e6 contains an element of kayfabe as outlined by @ao3cassandraic (and yes, yes I do) then Crowley's "That’s the point, no nightingales" holds SO MUCH. It's heavy stuff, and based on Aziraphale's reaction, I don't think he heard it all at once.

To be clear, I'm not team body swap. Crowley stayed on earth and Aziraphale got in that damned blessed elevator. But their positions just swapped - the serpent is now left to guard humanity, and the angel of the flaming sword is headed to seek out truth. I think what we see in that master class of microexpressions on the elevator ride up is Aziraphale processing what was ACTUALLY said in the last conversation in the bookshop. It's a reminder of their actual feelings AND a warning of danger - and Crowley isn't just talking about the danger to them individually, but to the world. And with that read, it's also a reminder that they have to trust one another, even while they are now separated, like they trusted each other that night in 1941.

I have to have faith that our idiots will hear those nightingales again.

[allthemusic]

Week ending: 4th July

It's summer, and the charts are ticking along nicely, barring the week with three of the same song. Which really does seem to be an akward coincidence, thank goodness. That said, this week has some awkward lyrics, an awkward title and some awkward teenage romance, so we're not entirely out of the woods when it comes to awkwardness...

All Shook Up - Elvis Presley (peaked at Number 1)

This is quite a goofy song. Heck, I'd go so far as to say it's really goofy. But a bit like the Diamonds last week, that's not necessarily a bad thing. Indeed, Elvis makes a virtue of it here, turning it into a song about how shaky and unsure he is, faced with his love. He's all shook up, taken aback, a little mixed up, but I'm feeling fine.

All this is set to a boogie woogie piano rhythm and some percussion that sounds a bit like a hand knocking against a guitar. There's something appealingly low-tech and distinctive about it all, and especially the use of guitar and piano. No saxophone for once, which is kind of interesting - are we going to start coming out of the "sax in everything" phase? One song's probably not enough to come to that conclusion, but still, it's worth keeping an eye on.

I particularly like a lot of the little touches in this song, the attention to detail. It's things like the moment where the piano and guitar cut out right before the all shook up lyric, letting Elvis carry the song. Plus, there's his echo - a second, recorded version of Elvis, singing some harmonies that I'd never even really listened to before, but that really add to the texture of the song. And finally, there's what must be the sexiest part of the song, that little frustrated "uh" moan before the final all shook up. I don't know, I just bet people went a little wild for it, you know?

The song also wins a prize for the charmingly awkward lyric about how Elvis' love interest's lips are like a volcano that's hot. As opposed to all those cold volcanoes you hear about? It's a clunker, but the song's also about Elvis getting all awkward and stuttery, so it just about works, even adds to the song's charm a bit. Plus he follows up with the rather charming lyric about how I'm proud to say that she's my buttercup, which is just adorable, and wins me right back over. Good going, Elvis - or good going Elvis' songwriter, I guess.

(I'm less sold on him itching like a man on a fuzzy tree, but that's more because I just don't have a good mental image of what a "fuzzy tree" is?)

We Will Make Love - Russ Hamilton (2)

A saucy title, to be sure. Quite the confidence there, Russ! Sadly, it turns out that this song means "making love" in a more Jane Austen sense of just professing your love, I suspect. Or at least that's what the song very much implies. Still, you can have some fun with this one if you imagine that they're "making love" in the modern sense. It certainly becomes a much more daring and less dreary song, if you do that.

Because yes, this song is kind of dull. It takes the form of a story, with Russ singing about how When the moon takes the place of the sun in the sky / I'll call for my girlie to go walking by / To a place no one knows. There they'll "make love" when they're alone, and promise their neverending love to each other. So far, so standard, and the instrumentation, a strummy bit of waltzing guitar and backing singers going oooh-oooh-oooh-ooooh don't exactly help to distinguish it from everything else we've heard so far.

Then, just to help matters, we get two different pre-rock and roll ballad clichés in a row. First there's the "it's a shame we're too young to get married, but I still want to marry you one day" line, and then there's the Romeo and Juliet "it's getting late, so we've got to be parted, but please remain true to me" line. The only way this could be more textbook is if he were going off to war, at this point.

All of the rhymes are entirely predictable, throughout. I briefly want to cut Russ some slack here, because apparently he didn't have a songwriter or anything, this was just something he wrote about a girl from Blackpool that he'd fallen in love with. She was called Patricia, and they got married and seem to have lived pretty happily together. Which is cute, but the more I listen, the less I care, because the lyrics are just so lame and insipid!

I will give some credit for the final verse, because it does break free of some of the clichés, and goes for something entirely more inscrutable, all about how When the sun takes the place of the moon in the sky / We'll go on a journey, you and I / To a far distant land where our dreams were planned / In the clouds up above / We will make love. Which just sounds like they're planning a holiday, until you get the bit about the clouds, which casts it all in a very sinister light, like one or the other of them is about to die? Is this, in fact, a really dark song? Certainly, it makes the lines about kissing her goodnight and having to part seem a little more... worrisome, like two lovers locked in a suicide pact, or something. Almost definitely not the intended interpretation, but delightfully morbid, nonetheless.

A White Sport Coat (And a Pink Carnation) - The King Brothers (6)

I had to look up what a sport coat was. Turns out it's just a lightweight suit jacket. So yeah, this is a song about a young man getting done up in his finest 1950s duds and picking up a flower to go to prom with his dream girl. Unfortunately, everything quickly goes wrong: Once you told me long ago / To the prom with me you'd go / Now you've changed your mind it seems / Someone else will hold my dreams. D'awwww! She wasn't worth it, anyway!

Apparently the song, though performed by the British King Brothers trio here, was a Marty Robbins original, written in a car between a show and a motel after driving past a high school prom. And yeah, it really does capture that teenage awkwardness, the dude left alone with his pink carnation contrasting with his blue, blue mood, left to mope melodramatically about how he's all alone in romance. It's not poetry, but it's also meant to be a teenager singing, so it doesn't really need to be.

Particular mention, in this version, goes to the echo section, where the King Brothers sing these surprisingly lovely echoes over each other, their voices cascading over each other in a vaguely choral-sounding way. ACtually, I feel like all of their backing singing is pretty solid, even when it's just nonsense doo-wop sounds like dooo-waaaaah or ba dum ba dum ba dum. We need more nonsense doo-wop sounds in modern pop music, I think.

The song seems to have captured the popular imagination, enough that the pink carnation as a sign of being lonely in love got a mention in American Pie, which details a whole bunch of rock and roll clichés. It's the sort of lyric I'd never have noticed or suspected was a reference to something else, but now I've had it pointed out, I'll probably hear it every time I hear that song on the radio. Plus, Paul McCartney was apparently attenting a village fete in a white sport coat as a reference to this specific song when he met John Lennon.

(I promise, I don't try to link every other entry to the Beatles. But they're absolute giants of British popular music, I happen to like them a lot, and more relevantly, the musical era we're currently in is also like the primordial musical soup that they formed in, so it's just kind of hard not to find connections as you look into these songs. I'm not doing it deliberately, though, I swear!)

Well, I liked two out of three of those songs. They were all a little bit weird and goofy. But all the best songs are - certainly, it's never put me off. In particular, I loved that All Shook Up and White Sport Coat were about fumbling around in love, and about that feeling of being an average, awkward teenager, all tongue-tied and hesitant and unlucky in love. It may be a bit of a performance, but it's a charming one, and one I find eminently likable.

Favourite song of the bunch: All Shook Up

[paradigmkrp]

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ 𝐆𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐏 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆: #7 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄: May 29, 2023 ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆: The following post contains mentions of mental distress, sexual activities, pregnancy, addiction, and violence. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: All writers consented to have their muses featured in the gossip blog.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ Dearest Readers,

Stressed much? Campus has been quite quiet recently in preparation for fear-inducing final exams. While the library has no shortage of stressed students frantically buried in textbooks that have been untouched for the better part of the semester, Mimi Cafe appears to be overworking its poor employees with nonstop coffee orders to empower these last-minute study sessions.

Even after all of these years, Arcadia University’s student body remains ever vigilant in their need to procrastinate. Never change, dear students. For while you all have been one more chapter away from a breakdown, we have been carefully keeping an eye on you and it appears as if some of you have been less busy than others.

Or, better yet, busy in other places – both good and bad.

But first, the good.

As we’ve previously reported, there has been no shortage of buzz around the Young Thespian’s upcoming spring play. From accidental set destruction to ongoing speculation about what this year’s play will be, there is undoubtedly excitement for the annual event. With this much excitement garnered, it’s only natural to assume that the Young Thespians must be under an immense amount of pressure to pull together a successful play and every successful play starts with an amazing lineup.

What better face to include than none other than the President of the Young Thespians and Sora Royal himself, Prince Erasmus Weiss?

Yes, our readers, you heard it here first. By all reports from students both inside and outside of the theater group, it sounds as if Prince Erasmus will be the leading male in this year’s spring play.

Rumors say that the club will be putting their own spin on one of Shakespeare’s classics this year, the surprisingly fitting Romeo and Juliet. Much to the desperate hope of the prince’s fans, all eyes are on the royal to take the role of the tragic, dreamy Romeo.

Long admired for his beauty and poise, it should come as no surprise that the prince has taken his rightful spot as the leading man. After all, a quick look at the club’s roster will quickly reveal there is simply no better option. With Sora’s very own prince at the forefront of the play, the club is bound to sell out every night.

In fact, there has already been tensions over ticket sales, with many of the prince’s fans fighting to find any way possible to get their hands on tickets despite the fact that they haven’t even gone on sale yet. Fans are particularly eager to get front row seats to the play, going as far as hiring citizen students on campus to stand in line for them come ticket sale day.

For any particularly financially needy citizen students on campus, there may be easy employment for you in holding spots in line for Prince Erasmus’ particularly dedicated fandom.

Best of luck to the prince on his top tier acting gig and to his fans that are determined to be in attendance. We can only hope that hearts won’t stop.

While fans of Prince Erasmus and the Young Thespians are busy fighting for seats to the long awaited annual spring play, fans of Arcadia University’s men's football team bear witness to increasing tensions between two star players on the team.

There have long been rumors of disdain between Lord Emrys Narelle and Idris Adair. It’s notoriously difficult to get onto the university’s varsity team, where a certain level of competitiveness is encouraged and even rewarded. Naturally, tensions have a way of running high between fiery spirits that want nothing more than to win, thus fans have frequently shrugged off the evident contempt between the two men on the field.

However, it appears as if those bitter sentiments have made their way off the field as well.

Lord Emrys, who has notably been absent from the past few games due to his injuries, has been frequently spotted around campus with media conglomerate heir Idris. At first glance, it would seem as if the two have put to rest their differences for the sake of team bonding and friendship. However, our team has received several accounts that it has been anything but peaceful between the two men.

In fact, by all reports it seems as if tensions have only gotten worse off the field following Lord Emrys’ injury. From an argument in Mimi Cafe over a coffee order that held up the line so long it spilled out onto the sidewalk outside to a blatant disagreement in a hundred person lecture hall during a shared morning class, it’s nearly impossible to make sense of the seemingly endless reports we’ve received.

However, one thing is for sure, the two Sirius natives find themselves within each other’s orbit quite frequently.

There’s only one question we’re really left to ask: why?

Despite constantly being at each other’s throats for any myriad of reasons, according to our diligent witnesses, they never fail to enter and exit spaces together. Idris, who has long had a propensity for chaos – though remarkably appears to be a rather reformed man – is often spotted by the lord’s side, offering aid as he needs it, if only to quarrel mere moments later. As a member of Helping Hand, it appears the heir is quite charitable in his endeavor to take care of the football team’s injured captain.

Though members of the lord’s fanclub have been very vocal in their calls for the beloved Lord Emrys to receive better treatment from his seemingly temporary, hateful caretaker. Only time will tell whether their numerous trending hashtags and petitions will be enough to sway the notoriously problematic heir’s behavior towards the lord.

For the sake of his sanity and sobriety, we’d recommend that Idris stays clear of the fanclub’s rage. They have been known to be ferocious when it comes to the beloved lord. Interestingly enough, it was reported to us that the two didn’t interact at all during the Military Ball…

Though despite their lack of interaction at the Military Ball, there was no shortage of interactions to keep our eyes on. Most notably, we found our eyes drawn to a particular soul that one might say should not have been allowed within 300 feet of any royal event.

Mandatory criminal watch!

It isn’t often that a citizen has managed to catch our eye numerous times but there is undoubtedly a sense of responsibility we feel to keep our readers safe. That was particularly true as we kept our eyes on the long anticipated Military Ball.

As we’re sure you can guess by now that citizen is none other than Avani native, admitted menace to society, and possible future convict, Regulus Estarossa. We’ve had an abundance of criticism for the rather intriguing student in the past. From his awfully long disciplinary track record to the fear he has stricken in the hearts of countless noble students, Regulus has been a frequent name upon our pages.

Thus when we first heard about his attendance at the Military Ball, our first instinct was to assume the worst. We simply had to ask: What would he do there? Who would he beat up? Would he eat the entire event out of house and home with his abnormally large appetite? Would he be dressed like a waiter again?

As is necessary in any criminal watch, we kept eyes on him all night long, lying in wait for his chaos to begin. However much to our genuine surprise, Regulus was on his best behavior throughout the night. He didn’t cause a single problem – at least not one that any of our eyes bore witness to.

Has this thuggish citizen finally been tamed?

Not only was he dressed remarkably well for the event – his waiter-like attire appears to be a thing of the past – but he kept his hands to himself and conducted himself rather appropriately for the memorial event. We must say we’re quite impressed by his change in behavior. One might even say that this is the start of a new chapter for Regulus. We’ll be eagerly following along with him on this new chapter as he takes the path towards redemption.

Kudos to you, Regulus. May your redemption path be full of light.

Though it appears as if the problematic citizen wasn’t the only one who turned a new page during the Military Ball.

Lord Alon Lee seems to be headed towards a brighter path himself.

The Lee family has long been hailed for their longstanding name in Nanami, long being considered the gleaming example of nobility. Their name is nearly synonymous with power in the nation, and it should come as no surprise that the only son of the household is considered one of the most eligible bachelors from Nanami.

Indeed, Lord Alon Lee drew widespread admiration for his appearance alongside his parents at the Military Ball. Respectfully dressed in a classic black suit, even in his simple attire he had no issue keeping all eyes on him for the better part of the evening. And there was certainly a plethora of lords and ladies alike seeking his company and attention for the night at the Military Ball.

Could it be that Lord Alon has finally gotten a much-needed lesson in etiquette?

As we’re sure you remember, the Nanami lord received criticisms for his nonstop lack of regard towards Avani’s princess, but it seems as if those mishaps are nothing more than distant memories now. Or perhaps it’s only easy to forget about such transgressions when the man behind it all has such a remarkably perfect face.

Is this what they call pretty privilege?

Pretty privilege or not, Lord Alon has received well-deserved acclaim from Nanami houses looking to find a powerful suitor for their respective young ladies and men. At this rate, there may very well be an engagement on the horizon for the lord… if he so decides to take his pick of the litter.

However, while some lords were stealing hearts left and right at the Military Ball with their flawless faces, longstanding titles, and poised behavior, it appears as if others were up to no good.

Newly risen noble, Lord Rhys Park, has found himself on the receiving end of some rather interesting rumors regarding his love life.

Rising from mere commoner to Lord is bound to come with a shift in attitude and demeanor. By all accounts, it sounds as if the lord has been grappling with this sudden change as well. Rumor has it that Lord Rhys has been quite busy establishing his name among the highest of society, and has had no shortage of interesting brushes with young noblesses and heiresses alike.

He was spotted guiding at least one well-off, Sora heiress onto the dance floor at the Military Ball. Though we didn’t keep eyes on the man for long, some voices have reported that she was only first in a long line of many to come.

In truth, it’s hard to blame the lord. After all, while most nobles are born into their titles and raised with a certain expectation of how to act, Lord Rhys has been thrown headfirst into the intricacies of higher society and expected to conduct himself accordingly. It’s like putting an unsupervised thief into a bank vault and expecting them to not go a little crazy. Certainly, one can only expect the noble to go a little crazy at first.

So long as he doesn’t bring shame to his family’s newly significant name.

Yes, the first rule of thumb for any noble is to never bring shame to their household. Though quite clearly from the news we bring to our readers, some are better than others at abiding by this. There are those who couldn’t care less about the impact their raunchy actions will have on family names with centuries of history behind them, but we’d like to give Lord Rhys the benefit of doubt and offer him three well-meaning tips before his little house falls off before it has even truly risen.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎⁀➷ There’s no such thing as privacy. Even when you think no one is watching, someone undoubtedly is. Conduct yourself accordingly.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎⁀➷ Do your best to avoid bedding citizens. Though you may have been one yourself, it is important to remember that you no longer are one. Draw the line early, Lord Rhys.

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎⁀➷ Wrap it. All it takes is an ill-timed pregnancy and a shotgun wedding to ruin your reputation for good.

Heed our warnings, Lord Rhys, and continue to do your noble household proud. And while we beg the lord to pay mind to our tips, we must turn our attention to a name that has been printed upon these pages beside his far too many times to count.

The past is the past, but the present is yet again the gift that keeps on giving.

It seems as if one Sora citizen has found herself aiming to live the life of her dreams right here on Arcadia University’s campus. Indeed, Fiona Choi, ex-employee of Avani’s princess and self-reported member of the questionable book club on campus, appears to be trying to play cupid with none other than herself and Sora’s very own famous poster boy.

It should come as no surprise that Lord July Merlo has his fair share of fans on campus. He has long been considered the apple of every Sora youth’s eye. Stroll into any Sora teen’s bedroom and there is undoubtedly a good chance that you’ll see at least one poster of the noble hanging on their wall. Simply put, Lord July is a big fucking deal throughout Sora, with a name and reputation that speaks for itself.

Thus, one cannot fault Fiona for falling head first for the Sora celebrity.

Rumors have begun circulating that Fiona was seen fawning over Lord July on campus. Several credible witnesses even claim that she nearly swooned upon locking eyes with the noble from across the hall. All signs point to a typical parasocial relationship between fan and celebrity. Admittedly, it could be quite harmless. After all, what real damage can a mere citizen do just by crushing on a noble and surely, Lord July is no stranger to being on the receiving end of one’s affections.

However, allow us to remind you that Fiona is a part of Overbooked. Yes, the club with the oddly timed reading of Twilight that was seemingly suspected of some level of involvement and later cleared by the administration of all accusations.

Perhaps it is no mere harmless crush after all. Rather, it could be that Fiona is looking to live out her very own y/n fantasy with the help of the suspicious book club on campus.

We urge Lord July to keep a close eye on his food and drink – and hair – just to be safe. One can never be too vigilant.

While one citizen seems naively eager to live out her wildest fanfiction fantasies with a noble, a group of students on campus have been excitedly publishing their own fictions about none other than two seemingly unrelated students on campus.

New rich and noble students alike draw admiration and fame for none other than the wealth they hold and the names they bear. It isn’t rare to hear of fanclubs of varying sizes popping up seemingly overnight for particularly visually blessed members of society’s highest circles. However, it isn’t often that we hear of a fanclub blossoming on campus for what appears to be nothing more than a ship.

For one reason or another, students across campus have started shipping Lady Natsu Han and Matteo Celeste.

The fanclub for the purportedly nonexistent couple – affectionately named Natteo – has been excitedly trending the ship name across social media. With rather impressively designed graphic edits and videos of the two, it doesn’t seem as if the hype for Natteo will be dying down anytime soon. In fact, some of these edits have been designed so well, even our team had a hard time deciding whether they were real or not.

As the Natteo fandom grows day by day, our team has been diligent in investigating the reports. We spent hours trying to draw any possible connection between Lady Natsu and Matteo but our investigation reared no concrete conclusion, other than the fact that fans are confident the individuals would make a good couple.

Why?

Nothing more than the fact that they’re both so beautiful that they should grace the campus by pairing together to be the most dazzling couple at Arcadia University. Odd indeed but it certainly makes for a rather amusing topic of conversation. Perhaps Natteo will be proven right in the end, and Lady Natsu and Matteo will find their way to each other like true soulmates.

Though for now, all signs point to this being nothing more than a figment of imagination for seemingly countless Natteo followers who seem desperate to make this summer romance happen.

However, while hundreds of followers fantasize over a couple that may never come to fruition, at least one romance seems to be grounded in reality.

Indeed, it looks like some heirs and nobles are particularly eager to get started on their summertime romances. Lady Nana Amari and Sora Heiress Valentine Ryu were spotted on what appeared to be a first date at a restaurant in Cor de Rosa’s luxurious Novis Plaza.

A particularly diligent witness sent in photos of the two young women seated together at the restaurant and having a seemingly good time together. We must admit that at first glance, they do make a quite attractive pair. Earth and air have long been considered opposite elements, but as the longtime saying goes opposites attract.

Perhaps that will ring true here for these two women.

Could it be that cupid’s bow has hit Lady Nana and Valentine or is it nothing more than an alignment of power and money?

As much as we’d love to see true love blossoming between two like minded souls, it’d be remiss of us to turn a blind eye to the power play at work anytime two notable figures take interest in each other. Arranged marriages are a tale as old as time, and it is common knowledge new rich families are often desperate to raise their ranks to nobles. What better way to do so than by marrying their children off to those from the highest tiers of society?

It wouldn’t be unjust to argue that this could very well be the first step towards Valentine climbing the ladder of society’s social hierarchies, but for the sake of romance, we so desperately want it to be something different. Something real surely.

Though only time will tell whether Lady Nana sees fit to ask Valentine on another date.

Speaking of summertime romance, we’ve received a report from a very credible source that the most anticipated announcement of the year is in the works in Avani.

Much to the certain excitement of new rich heirs and nobles alike, it is being said that the Avani royal family will soon be seeking out suitors for the widely loved and adored princess. As the only heir to the Kobayashi name and throne, all eyes have been on Princess Eden’s love life, with many lying in wait for their chance to woo the beautiful royal.

After all, a royal’s love life is not just a personal affair. It can very well define the future of not only the royal family, but the nation as a whole. For any household looking to secure power in Avani, an arranged marriage with the nation’s princess is the most certain way to do so. After all, it has been reported that Queen Xana is an impressively firm leader who isn’t so easily swayed by charm.

Many Avani noble households have struggled to maintain security in the wake of the once shamed Kobayashi family securing the throne, who have not shown a particularly forgiving nature to those who have crossed them. Thus what better way to curry favor than by proving your household’s heir to be the princess’ perfect match?

It certainly doesn’t hurt that Princess Eden’s beauty has no rival in all of Avani, where she has affectionately been dubbed the nation’s dazzling darling, a testament to the Kobayashi family’s blessing of producing gorgeous female heirs.

Eyes will remain on the princess as the search for her suitor begins, and our team will be hard at work keeping up with the many stories that will undoubtedly come out of this rather intriguing period for the Kobayashi royal family.

May the search for a suitor go well so that the princess may find herself perfectly matched with the lord or lady – or citizen for those of you particularly brave – of her dreams.

As our readers struggle with finals in the week to come, we must encourage you all to keep your eye on the prize, because after finals comes the long awaited Summer break for Arcadia University’s student body. However, before the school lets out for the summer, Arcadia University tradition demands one last hoorah.

We don’t even have to say it and we know those of you who’ve been here for at least a year know exactly what is coming.

Already, we can hear the music, loud chatter, and drunken chaos. The biggest festivity on campus is yet to come and it’s right around the corner.

Arcadia University’s Summer Festival!

The biggest names in entertainment from the four nations are already preparing to make their way to Cor de Rosa to put on the most extravagant show of the year for the student body. Prepare your undoubtedly skimpy outfits, sanity, and livers, because the best has yet to come.

When asked about potential headliners, the school administration did not comment, but already rumors have begun to swirl. Indeed, we know of at least a couple of performers that will be gracing this campus from our credible sources, but where would be the fun in telling you already and spoiling the surprise?

Instead, we’d like to know who you all anticipate will be making their way towards campus.

Give us your best guesses in the comments and for those of you who are right, there may be a special reward in store!

If that isn’t enough to get you all through these intense finals, then we don’t know what is.

Happy Sunday, our dearest readers! Keep your heads down to your books and finish strong, because before you know it, Summer Fest will be here, and you certainly don’t want to miss that. After all, we’ll certainly be keeping an eye on you all for the duration of it.

Good luck on finals and like always, keep whispering and writing in, for we will always be listening.

Yours Truly, Lady Astor

[zablife]

@pacifymebby You have no idea the excitement I feel when I see a new chapter of this series! I'm so in love with your description of Bonnie and your immense talent for story telling. You always leave me wanting more (which is prob why I ramble in the comments, hoping you'll give me some bonus material 😉)

You've captured Sonya's melancholy beautifully in that opening scene. The way heartache and loneliness creep in despite being surrounded by the laughter of her family 😢 Freddie is never far from her thoughts and I imagine that will only intensify as her pregnancy progresses in daily reminder.

"Had he ever really believed that we could escape our families and run away together? Or had they all simply been whispered dreams to string me along, to keep pulling the wool over my eyes as his family made plans against mine." Oof, this hit hard bc it's the first time I've heard her waver in devotion toward her lover, questioning his motives more thoroughly. I can't help my own naïveté thinking Freddie would NEVER, but now you've planted a seed of doubt. (How dare you!!)

As much as I adore the thought of our Romeo and Juliet, I'm still drawn to those tender moments with Bonnie. His easygoing manner with her is exactly what she needs to pull herself out of a dark spiral. How could you not fall for someone who is such a constant source of support? However, I found it intriguing that she frames this as mercy, her sensitive yet stubborn side revealing itself. For some reason these moments make me believe she'll end up with Bonnie bc she doth protest too much for someone who doesn't care.

That last scene in the library, surrounded by her mother's possessions, absolutely gutted me. (Need a moment to dry my eyes thinking of a sentimental Tommy saving it all btw.) Reading those journals to reestablish connection was a bittersweet moment of yearning. (Tbh all I could think was how badly this girl needs a mother to guide her thru motherhood.) For a moment I lost myself in the loving gestures captured in time, the girls' portraits and locks of hair.

But I have to admit the deterioration of thought in the journal, evidenced by the repetition of the same three tarot cards, jarred me back to reality. And I gasped as I read those last lines about the similarities Polly must have already glimpsed in Sonya's cards. I'm filled with dread wondering how else she might emulate her mother. Curled in the fetal position waiting to hear what happens to our sweet Sonya next 😬 Don't make her suffer (too much) pls 🙏🏼

Edit: I forgot to add what a quiet, yet powerful moment it was when Bonnie catches her with her hand over her womb. The gentle way he reties her ballet slipper, telling her to be careful on the stairs had me like 🥹 God, I adore him 😍

t r o u b l e / chapter thirty seven

Sonya

When I wandered downstairs in a pair of pointelle knitted socks and one of my brother's tshirts the house was fairly quiet. Not for lack of people in the kitchen and sitting outside in the garden however.

The sun had cut through the clouds early and by the time it had risen the garden had reached a pleasant warmth that had drawn most of my family out into the sunlit terrace. John was half asleep, beer in hand as he reclined on a sun lounger, shirt off catching a tan. He looked far too relaxed for a man supposedly at war but when I saw him I couldn't help but feel glad for him.

Esme was sitting on a picnic rug on the lawn beside him, all the bairns scattered around them, the baby feeding at her breast. There was music playing from the stereo inside and little Kitty was dancing around, her little pigtails half fallen out already.

"Mornin trouble," grinned John when he saw me, shielding his eyes from the sun as he pushed himself up to get a look at me.

"Morning..." I said quietly, searching the garden for signs of my other brother's who should have been back by now. "Is Tommy back?" I asked already knowing the answer before I'd been given it.

"Nah," he said, "nothin to worry about though Fen," he added, "been held up a bit but it's fine, he'll be back in a day or two,"

"Right..." I said slowly, eyeing him sceptically, noticing then how mightily pissed off Esme looked with him, how even Ada had rolled her eyes.

"You don't tell someone not to worry when there's nothing to worry about John," said Ada with a smirk and a shake of her head before she opened her arms out to me and beckoned me over.

When I joined her on the rug she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me backwards into a hug, trapping me between her legs and arms so that I couldn't escape when she started asking me questions in a hushed voice designed to embarrass me and pressure me into telling the truth.

"Pol tells me you spent all day yesterday off in the woods with a certain boxer..." She whispered with a teasing grin.

"He's been told to follow me everywhere Ada so that's hardly a surprise..." I smirked back rolling my eyes at her.

"hasn't told him to carry you home though has he..." She said smugly her shit eating grin so wide and bright when I turned around with a gasp and a glare.

"Ada!" I hissed, "shut up!" I giggled giving myself away entirely.

"Ooo," she giggled, "careful Fen you sound a bit embarrassed there..." She teased me her eyes lit up with mischief as my cheeks turned a deep red shade of scarlet.

"Ada!" I cried hoping she'd shut up before anyone else noticed what she was saying.

How I longed to be back in the woods then, just me and Bonnie, or me and Pol, sitting by the campfire, peace and quiet. No big sisters trying to tease me, no older brother listening in with a shit eating grin on his lips.

"Oh aye Ada she definitely fancies him..." He called over, "shoulda seen the way she was staring at him trainin yesterday, bloody scandalous..." He sniggered as I picked up the nearest discarded toy and threw it at him. A wooden building block sent flying towards his stupid face.

Of course he dodged it and was all the more smug for it as he reached down to pick it up and toss it back.

And just like that we were fighting the way we had when we were just kids. Me John and Ada, the three of us scrapping in the garden, throwing toys at each other, chasing one another round in bloody circles, screeching and shouting, goading one another into rushing our attacks and scuppering our aim.

"Bloody hell!" He cried when Ada finally hit him with a building block, the wood bouncing off his arm. "Jesus Christ woman that was brutal!"

"Deserved it!"

"Were on the same bloody side!" He cried back rubbing his arm theatrically, enjoying the sound of his children's laughter as they watched us, watched their dad being an idiot.

It felt good to laugh like that. To be playing outside in the garden, giggling, tears in my eyes as I laughed at John who had now fallen dramatically to the floor, clutching his arm. He was acting up for the kids, but I knew that he must have been feeling the same way. Relieved to be so light-hearted, even if it was just for this moment. Messing around like he was a teenager, rolling around in the grass to make the littlens laugh. It felt so good to be smiling so wide. So good to feel the vibrations of my laughter through my body. And as I settled down and took my place on the rug I felt a weight lift from my shoulders for a moment or two. Because for a moment or two, watching Esme rise to help him her stupid husband up off the floor, laughing as he tricked her and tugged her down on top of him, play fighting her in the grass until the kids all clambered up to save their mum. For a moment or two it was easy to believe that we were a normal family.

That there was no threat to our lives. That our other brothers weren't off trying to save my sister from God knows what in London. That we didn't have any enemies. That there was no war that was keeping us trapped here. For a minute it was easy to pretend that this was just a little weekend trip home to visit, that I'd be able to go home, return to my little flat with Sylvia, go back to school, to rehearsals, spend my evenings dancing across a west end stage.

And then just like that I was thinking about him again.

Because my little life in London had been perfect and I couldn't ignore the reason for that. Freddie. Freddie who had kissed me so tenderly, held me so gently, fucked me so passionately. All those murmurs and whispers of love. All the promises he had made me. All the times he'd promised me we wouldn't always have to hide. That one day he'd take me somewhere far away where we could live peacefully, romantically.

I felt guilty for questioning those promises now. Now that there was a bloodthirsty war waging between our families. Now that his uncles had sworn death upon every member of the Shelby family, including me. Including the baby growing inside me, Freddie's baby. Would he still love me when he saw me next, would he still want me knowing that I carried his child. All that responsibility, the threat to his youth. To the future he had whispered promises of to me. Had he ever really believed that we could escape our families and run away together? Or had they all simply been whispered dreams to string me along, to keep pulling the wool over my eyes as his family made plans against mine.

I knew Freddie was involved in his families work, knew he had just as dangerous a reputation as my brothers... As any of his too. I couldn't help but doubt his devotion, his honesty a little when I thought about how carefully they must have been planning their attack on my cousin. Would Freddie have known it was going to happen that day? Would he have known it was happening whilst I lay in his arms?

My hand slipped over my lower belly, resting over my womb as the troubled feeling inside me swirled and threatened to drag me down into a dark place once again.

It had felt so good to laugh, but only for as long as we had been laughing. Only for as long as the playful smile had lingered on my sister's lips.

When she looked at me again it was with worry in her eyes. Her eyes which had noticed my hand, noticed the worry which had washed over me. When she smiled at me this time it was with sympathy. I wondered how much she knew.

"Where is Bonnie boy anyway?" Asked John then as he settled back down sitting on the edge of the sun lounger with Esme tucked under his arm, returning to the beer he'd abandoned before, holding it to her lips to taunt her. When she swatted him away he sniggered like a teenage boy.

"I don't know," I said thinking about the lad I'd left sleeping in my sister's bed that morning. How peaceful he had appeared to be, his curls scruffed by the pillow, his face stone still as he rested, as if he were hand chiseled by one of the greats. "Perhaps he's still sleeping..." I added trying to appear nonchalant as I returned my attention to the children, to Kitty who had come to join us on the rug and was offering me her hair brush, asking me to to fix her hair for her.

"Kitty love ask her later, you'll only go and ruin it whilst you're playin..."

"That's half the fun John.." I smirked sitting her comfortably between my legs as I set about trying to untangle her messy pigtails.

"You gonna come watch us train again today then love?" He asked me, teasing light in his eyes as he began to tell the girls how I'd hardly been able to watch them sparring the day before. How I'd probably been worried John was going to mess Bonnie's pretty face up.

His exaggerated version of events left my cheeks burning with a blush. Scorned me a little too, because they seemed so convinced of my crush on Bonnie Gold, all so easily forgetting the man to whom my heart really belonged. The one I'd been sneaking around with for months, falling in love with secretly. The one who had begged me to come and find him. The one I couldn't deny.

Did they really think me so fickle? Or perhaps not. Perhaps it was worse than that. Perhaps they didn't really believe the depths of my love for Freddie. Perhaps they thought it nothing but a sordid fling. Fucking for the thrill of fucking the enemy.

"I have training of my own to do John..." I said losing my smile as I thought about Freddie, "don't have time to watch you to showing off..."

"Aye thats what I'm always telling him an all Sonya..."

Bonnie's smirking tone caught me by surprise. The sound of his voice and the sight of his trainers in the grass making me jump, leaving me to look up at him from where I sat with wide eyes and the beginnings of a blush.

"Think we can probably take it in turns though eh lass, give each other some constructive criticism?"

But with the feeling of my brother and sister watching me, their eyes flickering between me and Bonnie with amusement, I found that my own voice had slipped away somewhere. That I couldn't do anything but blink back at him totally stunned.

"Aye is that what you call it..." Murmured John, earning a gasp and sharp smack from Esme, his cry only muted by her giggle.

Ada giggled too, speaking up for me when she realised quite how stunned I was.

"And what would you know about Swan Lake Bonnie Gold?" She asked him with a clever smirk. Her eyes sparkling as she waited for his reply. Watched him hesitate the way his teasing had left me to moments before.

"Enough to know she don't need to practice half as hard as she thinks..." He nodded to me with a smirk, his eyes bright like Ada's as he settled down on the lawn at our feet and lay back on his elbows. His lazy curls fell into his eyes and he tried to push them back to no avail as he tilted his head up to look at the sky.

The clouds were thin, hardly there at all and the heat coming off the sun was a cozy, dry heat. The kind that makes you want to stretch out and relax. The kind that makes you want to reach for an Aperol or a Margarita.

"Aye I can believe that!" Agreed John finally returning to his sun lounger, poor Esme carried along by him and plonked down in his lap as he sat on the edge, the weight of them both together almost tipping the balance. "Our little lass eh, always were the families little miracle weren't you, all the brains and all the talent..."

I hated it when he waxed lyrical about me and Sylvie like that, because it was always John who did. Always John who had been soft enough to say it out loud, that he loved the bones of us and thought the sun shone out his little sister's. But it always ended the same way, once he started on that train we always wound up in the same place, and I hated it.

"Hard to believe you're a Shelby ain't it..." He said, the words leaving the same sorry taste in my mouth, though it didn't linger for long and for a reason which surprised me.

The reason being Bonnie Gold and the way he chuckled so easily, grinned as he shook his head, so naturally, laughed like he really did think John was joking.

"Y'joking right?" He asked, looking between John and Ada, who was smiling with that canny smile she'd always had. She seemed so secretly pleased about something, like she'd noticed something no one else had.

"You're joking..." Said John, shrugging the lad off, hammering the nail in harder a second later with another thoughtless joke, "I'd be havin words with the milkman if it wasn't for Syl..." He said, only silenced when I stood up sharply and Ada tried to snatch at my ankle before I shot off across the patio.

I heard someone thump and scold him but I didn't come back when he shouted after me, all "give over fen lass you know am only jokin!"

In that moment the blood had rushed to my cheeks so furiously, the pain in my chest so sudden and sharp that all I'd been able to do was what I had done. Run away.

So I stormed through the house in a flurry of wounded pride and scornful tears. My heart fluttering with the sorry ache those kinds of conversations always stirred in me. How I wasn't really one of them... Not so much the black sheep of the family, simply not family... Only family because my twin has earned us the right to be called Shelby, with her cunning, wily type of elegance.

If it wasn't for her I wouldn't be a Shelby at all.

Maybe it was a silly joke, the kind of thoughtless remark only John could make with a giggle the way he had. But it still hurt and it still reminded me why I'd been so easily courted by "our" enemy.

If Freddie had been manipulating me it was obvious to me why it had been so easy... And if he wasn't, as I desperately needed to hope now, it was still obvious to me why I'd found room in my heart for a family who hated mine so much... If I wasn't really one of them, if the Shelby blood really ran so thin through my veins, then why would it matter if I started sleeping with the enemy... If I let his warm and tender hands clasp mine in the middle of the night.

I didn't feel like I was being followed but I knew that Bonnie wasn't far behind me. I knew he'd have pushed himself dutifully up off the ground and gone dawdling behind me. Never allowed to let the liability out of his sight. Knowing this however didn't make me slow down or check over my shoulder. Instead I ignored the thought, pushed it to the back of my mind and headed down to that gym my brother had supposedly had made for me and Sylvie. Locked the door behind me, connected my phone to the speakers and began to run through my warm ups. Flowing between poses as gracefully as I could, though when I caught my reflection in the floor to ceiling mirrors I saw only a worn out, tattered version of the girl I'd been only two weeks before, when I'd been skating the thin surface of perfection precarious and carefully. Whoever I'd been then, when they'd been printing my name in the arts segments and discussing my suitability for the role of Odette online. Speculating whether my naivety would make for a convincing, vulnerable performance, or whether it would leave me shaking and shying away at all the wrong moments.

I trembled en pointe, watching myself with such an intensity, knowing exactly the conclusion they'd come to if they could see me now.

I didn't notice the door twitch when someone tried it only to give up moments later. Too focussed on myself, my delicate baby bird limbs unfurling from my body as I fluttered and crested, moved myself in inhuman ways. The handle didn't move again, but I wasn't really watching the door. I was watching myself in the mirror. Watching my body bend and twist as elegantly as I could manipulate myself to move. As delicately as I could flutter and shiver through the phases.

And somewhere between the steps of my dance, I stopped thinking about my brother, stopped thinking about Sylvie and the family and the war. Lent back into the symphony which filled the room. Let the music hold me. My fingers felt like someone else's fingers as they brushed up over my ribs, my muscles yearned for the ache which came with every stretch too far, every desperate grasp at beauty. And by the time I settled on the sprung floor, my body undulating with ripples of tragedy, I was breathless and floating momentarily somewhere outside of myself. Looking down at myself folded over on the floor. Little tears in my eyes because I'd tried too hard again only to skim perfection and not quite hold on.

The song finished for the who-knows-how-many time. Left me in silence, sitting forlorn on the floor.

And this time when someone tried the door handle I heard it, pretended I hadn't heard it, but sat there listening to it - the loudest sound in the whole room - waiting on the inevitable.

"Sonya lass..." I heard Bonnie's voice through the door and found the relief a little surprising. It wasn't that I hadn't expected it to be him, I was hardly shocked to find he was still out there waiting like the dedicated guard dog my brother was paying him to be. It was that I was surprised to find myself smiling at the sound of his voice... Almost guilty feeling that I was glad it was him waiting outside and not John or Ada or Esme. "I'm gonna let myself in now if you don't mind..." He said, didn't sound impatient. In fact it sounded like he was smiling. That growing ever familiar boyish grin, knowing and easy going. One which was apparently contagious...

"You don't have to do that..." I called back, rising to my feet in a worn out daydream, "I'll just..." I trailed off as I reached the door and turned the latch to let him in.

When I opened the door he was stood with a little smirk on his lips, leaning in the doorway, his elbow on the frame. His hand resting idly on the back of his neck. His eyes were soft and warm when they met mine and I could tell he was on the brink of some kind of apology.

"I haven't finished..." I started to say just as he was about to give me that sorry...

"For disturbing you like..." He finished, trailing off when he realised that my lips were moving too.

When our eyes locked I felt a wave of shyness wash over me, a ripple which subdued me and left me looking back at him from under hooded lids. He wore a faint blush across the hollows of his cheeks and for a moment he looked as though he'd brought something of the wild woods inside with him.

"It's okay..." We said the words at the same time, our voices trailing in sync with one another in a way which made him grin and me bite the tip of my tongue.

"You look worn out sweetheart, y'sure you're not finished?" He asked with a soft smirk, stepping into the room when I took a step back and allowed him past me.

My fingers were still holding the edge of the door and when I pushed it shut again I let my hand linger against the grains of wood. Choosing to stare at them instead of at him.

"Lost count of how many times I heard that big crescendo..." He carried on, "I reckon you've at least earned yourself ten minutes..."

He'd already thrown himself down on a heap of mats in the corner, his head resting on the curve of a punching bag. It wasn't a resting place I'd have considered comfortable until I'd seen him lying back, legs stretched out before him, one hand behind his head. His chin raised as he nodded me over and shot me a cheeky smile. One I felt a tug of guilt in my tummy for being tempted by.

"C'mon Sonya..." He said softly, "ten minutes?" He said, pouting back at me when still I didn't stray from my safe spot by the door.

I bit my lip. I felt strangely as if on a precipice, as if the choice I made in that moment, to sit down with him on those old mats, was more important than it might seem. As if more depended on it than I was willing to let myself believe.

When my fingers twisted the latch on the door shut they did so without my saying so. Did it so subtly and subconsciously that the click as the door locked made me jump.

He grinned when I crossed the floor, my ballet shoes making the softest of sandy sounds as I trod lightly on the wood.

I didn't mean to sit as close to him as I did, but that too happened without my saying so. My legs working against me too to settle me down right beside him, my toes inside my ballet slippers brushing his calves as I sat with my knees hugged to my chest. My hips beside his hips.

I let my head rest on my knees and closed my eyes, curled up, my head beginning to fuzz again, suddenly self conscious to be near him. Fighting with the tug of the comfort he was trying to offer me and the guilt which sat knotted in the pit of my stomach. Guilt which twisted, comfort which dizzied when he reached out to me quietly, his fingers brushing a delicate pattern down my curved spine.

"Sitting like that ain't gonna relax you y'know..." He said softly.

"I'm relaxed..." I said indignantly, my voice tight enough to give me away without the scorned blush on my cheeks which blossomed brighter the more the memory of how I'd come to be locked in that gym burnt on my brain.

"Aye y'are.." said Bonnie, his fingers on my back still trailing carefully, this delicate leaf like touch, coaxing my gaze round to look at him over my shoulder. "I'd believe that if I hadn't seen you down by the stream the other night..." He said softly, "sittin by the fire with me da..." As he spoke his fingers drew flickering flames down my spine, their gentle flow soothing my, lulling me into a softer state. One which saw my shoulders settle as I closed my eyes and remembered the way it had felt to sit beside the fire, fresh air tired, wearing Bonnie's fleece, watching the sparks rise into the orange evening. "Half asleep when I carried you all the way home..."

It was the smirk in his voice and the memory of his strong arms wrapped around my body which drew me out of the spell. Which left me sitting suddenly stiff and self conscious. Unable to look him in the eye for the blush on my cheeks.

"Are you..." I started, about to ask if he was teasing me, cutting myself off when I realised what a stupid question that was.

"Teasin ye? No love..." He chuckled, "not me..." He said, "I wouldn't dream of it..." But the light twinkling in his eyes told me otherwise and I couldn't help the smile on my lips. One I wanted so desperately to swallow down for the shame it carried. How could I smile for him, how could I be so fickle as to give in to him when somewhere in London my heart was waiting for me.

"I mean it though Miss Gray... I have seen you... The way you are when you let go of all the trouble you're keeping safe an secret in that head of yours..." He said quietly, sitting up slowly, moving to curve around my form, his chest barely brushing my back as one arm curved around me, his hand resting atop my knee, the other brushing my hair from my cheek as his lips brushed my ear. "So I know what it looks like when you stop worrying about holding yourself together all the time..."

"I'm not worried..." I said stiffly, sitting so still, so afraid to relax into his hold and yet so desperate to. Longing to give in. An image of his lips pressed to my neck, to my cheek... To my lips... A jolt through my heart... A flutter in the pit of my tummy I couldn't control. And suddenly I was breathless. Letting him hold me like that, letting him keep me close to him. Knowing the undeniable fact... I wanted him closer still.

"Not all the time at least..." He said, his lips brushing a kiss to the peak of my cheekbone right beside my ear. His fingers combing through my hair as he asked me without words to settle down.

"I know you're worried love, got a lot to be worried about..." He said, "but you haven't got to be worried when you're with me..."

And it was those words which turned me on him. Turned my mood, twisted the knife though he hadn't meant to. Because he was just trying to be kind. Only trying to do his best for the brokenhearted girl he perceived me to be, the frail Shelby sister who needed picking up every other day, dusting down and patted on the head because she couldn't handle herself the way the rest of the family did.

And because he didn't understand me at all.

He thought I was scared...

"I don't need you to protect me from the Italians gypsy boy..." I said quietly, the serpent flicker in my tongue just like my sister's. Just like my brother's when he was about to play the viper. "I'm the traitor who's been fucking one of them remember..."

But when I stood sharply he was two steps ahead, his hand snatching my ankle before I could dash away. Before I could move from where I stood just beside him, his hand had closed around my ankle, calloused palm pressed tightly against the silk soft ribbons wrapped around me.

My eyes darted to look down at him only to find his glaring up at me. So fixed and stubborn, so scorned and determined as he remained clutching my ankle, preventing my escape.

"Let me go..." I started, my eyes already teary, the spite catching up to me as I tried hard to burn and hold my own. To be as sturdy as my sister always managed to be.

He didn't say a word, only shook his head subtly, slowly, half a No. His gaze holding mine, earthy dark and all too honest. His hand remained holding onto me and when I tried to tug myself away the muscles in his arm tensed against me. He held me in place so easily.

"I said let me go..." I said again, my voice quivering a little, trying my best to keep my eyes burning, trying my best not to let the fear or the hurt show - already knowing that both would be written all over my face.

He didn't say a word, the downward curve of his lips soft with sorrow as he held my gaze. Something in his quiet stillness reminding me of a tree, thick trunk and roots which run deep and hold the ground together.

I looked down at him, well aware of the tears brimming in my eyes. Well aware that I could scream for my brother if I wanted, but that it might not work in my favour, that perhaps my backstabbing had earned me my lonely lowly place at Bonnie's mercy. Knowing that even if I'd thought John would take my side, see to it that Bonnie never laid eyes on me again, I still wouldn't scream for him. Knowing that it wasn't Bonnie's hand around my ankle that I couldn't forgive him for, but his hold on me in general. The way he seemed to understand me even then when I was trying so hard to repair the veil between us.

The way his hand around my ankle held me back not because of his strength but because of my weakness... The weakness I felt in my knees when he held my gaze and begged me quietly to return to him. To settle down and speak to him...

And I almost did. Would have done had it not been for my wandering hand, the instinctive drift back towards my womb, the guarding press of my palm to the curve of my pelvis... And his wandering gaze, dark eyes following the path my fingers took before they bound together to hold me.

The path his fingers took when they slipped from around me and instead began to tie the ribbons of my shoes which they had disturbed. Securing them so that I wouldn't trip on my way out of the door.

"Be careful on the stairs..." He told me, nodding to let me leave. Letting me go from his sight, not shifting to stand until my footsteps had echoed lonely down the stairs and been swallowed up by the silence I left him in.

🐇 🌙 🪽

"Fen!" I heard John call after me when I went pitter-pattering up the stairs, past my bedroom to the library where I knew I wouldn't be disturbed - certainly not by John who hadn't read a book since primary school.

"Fen!" He shouted, only picking up the pace to catch up with me when he realised I had no intention of stopping for him. "Fuck sake girl come 'ere... Ada'll have me balls if I don't apologise to you!"

"Better hide the fuckin knives then John!" I snapped back, glaring at him over my shoulder from the opposite end of the hall. He stopped when he heard that, stunned for a moment before he found the composure to crack a grin.

"Jesus sis..." He chuckled, refusing to take the threat seriously. I didn't linger to hear his closing remarks or to wait on the apology he'd been sent to give.

Instead I hurried down the hall, my slippers dusting the old wood, letting me flit, window to window to the end of the hallway and through the arched door which opened into the library.

I had found it on my first day in the house, when wandering the halls trying to find my way back to mine and Sylvie's bedroom. It wasn't the kind of grand, spiral staircase library with books floor to cieling that you'd see in films. It was much smaller, with a window seat and a lamp, velvet upholstery, cushions I recognised from our childhood in the caravan. There were books, kept in an order which would only have made sense to one woman and her children. Because the library, I had realised quickly, upon running my finger along the spines of old dusty Enid Blyton books, was a shrine to a our mother. The cushions in the windows were ones she had crochetted herself. The rocking chair in the corner one she had sat in by the campfire on crisp november nights, the blanket draped across its back the blanket she had draped around the shoulders of me and my sister when she'd held us both in her lap. Her tiny angels.

There was a chest between two pale green shelves which had been salvaged from the last caravan we'd travelled in, a small bookcase which had only just been taller than me and Sylvie when we were about five. In a darker, mossier shade of green our mother had spent a melancholic week painting a pattern of leaves trailing up each side. There were pencil marks too which marked our heights as we'd grown. I could still remember the day I'd finally outgrown those shelves, how proud I had been. I'd asked if it meant I was tall now, like my brothers and our mother had laughed and said of course, as tall as the trees.

I'd thought that when we'd abandoned the road and moved into that cramped little terrace on watery lane, that these traces of our old life had been lost, thrown on the skip with the rest of our mothers possessions when she had died and our father had gone mad with grief. It was no mystery who had held onto these things. He'd never said anything about keeping them, the things she'd made to make our little house a home, but of course he had. Somewhere underneath his ice cold exterior, somewhere beneath the blade of his gaze, Tommy had a sentimental side. A softness, a longing to hold onto everything our mother had given us. Because all the love we'd ever known had come from her.

And here was the remnants of that love, so carefully and quietly preserved in a room hardly anyone ever went. Perhaps only Tommy, Ada, and now myself. Perhaps that was why he'd known it was safe to keep her journals lined up on the top shelf. The books she had jotted her life down in, through drawings and pressed flowers, locks of hair, baby teeth held in place beneath cellotape. Our names written beneath them with a month and a year.

I had found them the first night but I hadn't dared open them. Knowing what they contained only because I could remember so vividly a time when she had trimmed my hair and tied it with a little red string, showing me where she was going to keep it. Pressed between the pages of a red clothbound book beside drawings I didn't understand then but had been fascinated by.

Well, I didn't understand them still but I knew what they were now, and I wanted to try and understand. Needed to feel connected to at least someone from our godforsaken family. Needed to feel close to her again, because it had been such a long time since I had, and because it was her my brothers always told me I carried in my soul. She was the reason I was the way I was - so erratically emotional, so not Shelby.

So I ran my fingers along the spines, some of them shabbier than others, until I found the red bound book which she had carried with her in the last years of her life. One which she had started when me and Sylvie were born, which followed her pregnancy almost neurotically and then petered out, only returned to in drips and drabs when she had the energy to go walking, or the clarity of mind to write, and draw again. Because it had been after me and Sylvie, that her sickness had really got a grip on her.

I took the little red book and sat myself down on the floor by the window seat so that the light from outside could wash over me and the pages I turned, but so that we could not be seen from outside.

I knew the pages I was looking for but I took my time finding them. Slowing down to linger on each mark our mother had left, the words she'd written, the shake of her hand, the little tremmors you could sometimes see in the lettering. The petals she had picked from flowers and left pressed between the pages. Some of them with a name written beside them - the child who had picked the flower and brought it home to her. Sometimes the name made perfect sense to me, sometimes it was hard to imagine an adolescent Arthur Shelby bringing home a daffodil for his mam.

She hadn't learned to read until adulthood so her words on the page were sparse, just a feeling hardly articulated or a name and a drawing. Little sketches of little faces we hadn't yet grown into.

There was something about looking at them - the little traces of her, the mother she'd been when she'd been carrying us inside her - that touched me. Got to me in a way I hadn't known it would until it had, and now that it had I felt stupid for being surprised by it.

Little tears pricked at my eyes, gathered in my lashes when I let my fingers trace the sketches she had done of herself, a swaddled shadow that was Sylvie and I, drawn not long before we were born. Our names written down for the first time. As I let my fingers dust over it I felt the unearthly feeling inside me once again, this strange unfamiliarity. Something growing inside me, which wasn't me, but was for now a part of me. I let my hand rest over my womb once again and closed my eyes. My mind returning to Freddie, to the father of my unborn child, who I couldn't let myself believe had betrayed me. Couldn't betray him by believing my brothers, though they had determined it with such fierce conviction.

In that moment I felt so far away from home, despite being nestled as close to home as I could ever be again. Holding my mothers journals, surrounded by the last things she'd made, touched.

I turned the pages slowly, pressing on the bruise, letting the ache twist and sting in my chest as I retraced the final years of the life of a woman I was supposedly just like, but would never know. And then I came to them, finally.

The last few pages she'd written in before her despair had really consumed her. Tommy had talked of it only once, described her illness as a kind of rot. Something evil and festering, black mould that starts in your brain, in corners, little shadows, that gets in your blood and travels all around your body, and wherever it touches that place stops feeling like you, stops feeling like its a part of you, and as it spreads you recognise less of yourself, and so it goes that you know yourself less and less, see only the shadows of that black rot, until eventually it travels all the way to you heart. And once it does well, theres little to be done to save you and very little time left.

He said it ran in the family, a curse we all had to be wary of. He lived his whole life with the certainty that he carried that rot inside him, that we all did somewhere...

Of course, I grew older, realised our mother had been suffering at the hands of a neglectful, sometimes abusive husband, who was wrapped up in all sorts of criminal activity. That she'd been forced to abandon the life which had nurtured her soul. That the rot my brother believed in was simply a depression, a melancholy, a paranoia that ran a little too deep to be cured. That in the end it was just exhaustion with the world which had sent her into that river with pockets full of stones. Exhaustion and fear...

A fear which had started the day she'd drawn the cards I was looking at, sketched out in her little red journal.

The Hanged Man, reversed.

Ten of Swords.

Two of Cups, reversed.

Needless Sacrifice.

Betrayal.

A split between two halves.

She had drawn these cards not once, but many times over the course of several months. There had been evenings she had sat shuffling her deck, praying into them as she did. I hadn't understood it at the time but she had been asking them, desperately pleading with them to give her another answer. To show her something else. A future she could withstand.

But whatever she had thought those cards to mean had sent her over the edge, plunged her into an inconsolable depression. I couldn't help but wonder now, whether Aunt Polly had recognised the cards I had drawn. Whether her mind had returned to my mothers drawings. To the images which had torn her apart.

On the next page the sketches were eerily similar. The story unchanged despite the altered sequence.

Two of Cups, reversed.

Ten of Swords.

Death.

Taglist:

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@zablife

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbyswhore

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

@call-sign-shark

@only-malala

@galactic3a

@darkcastle167

@feyresqueen

[violettduchess]

A/N: My 2nd contribution to the Different Universe Same Love Content Creation Challenge, Day 5 Academia / Small Shop AU (I combined them), hosted by @xxsycamore and @queengiuliettafirstlady

Leonardo and f!Reader

Word Count: 2332

Fluff, Romance, First Kisses

“And the sunlight clasps the earth And the moonbeams kiss the sea: What is all this sweet work worth If thou kiss not me?” -Percy Blythe Shelley, from "Love’s Philosophy"

The little brass bell over the book shop door chirps out a greeting as a customer walks in. You hear it from all the way in the back, your ears honed to the sound as a conductor to each instrument in his orchestra. An exhale, a quick brushing down the front of your sweater. Excitement buzzes through you. Your heart is an eager child with its face pressed to the car window.

Is he here yet? Is he here yet?

He is here, his large hands and sculpted fingers splayed out on the wooden counter as he waits for you. 

God, he is beautiful with his tousled hair and whiskey-colored eyes. He elevates everything around him, even his white button-down shirt and brown leather jacket feel elegant and worldly because they are touching him. 

You pause a moment, hidden by a bookshelf, fingers wrapping around the edge to watch him, to enjoy this tiny bubble of time where he does not know you are there, his expression relaxed. He reaches down, picking up one of the small business cards of your bookstore, Parnassus.  You remember the first time he walked in and had immediately known the reference to Christopher Morley’s 1917 novel about a bookshop on wheels. That was the moment you had heard the faint thrum of cupid’s bow string, the second you began falling in love with Professor Leonardo Da Vinci.

You breathe out once and then pop out from behind the bookshelf, the smile on your face completely genuine. He is the sunshine that will always coax the shy flower to open itself to the light and blossom.

“Good morning Professor!”

He pockets your business card (he must have hundreds of them by now the way he plays with them and tucks them into the infinite pockets of his jacket) and returns your smile. Your heart falls into stereotype and skips a beat.

“Hello cara mia,” he answers, his lightly accented voice running over you like warm water. “How are you this morning?”

“Great.” You keep your tone breezy, an unconscious way of shielding him from the depth of your feelings. “I finished that edition of ‘Romeo and Juliet’ you recommended.”

He grins slowly, dipping his chin and looking at you through those long lashes, dark frames to golden pools of light.

“And? Did true love prevail?”

You know you can’t stop smiling when he’s around, you feel it in the way you want to smile and realize there is no where else to go with it. You’re already there.

“Sadly, the play still ends in tragedy. But I did enjoy the variations of the lines in Acts II and III.” 

“Of course you noticed them right away,” he teases. That honeyed dip in his voice, that winking grin on his lips….they should be illegal. Out of nervous habit, you brush your hair away from your face and then lean down, picking up a small package from under the counter. 

“So….I know you’ve been waiting…and here it is! It finally came.”

You know he is going to be excited. He always is when it comes to his purchases. 

“Ah!” He reaches for the package, his fingers brushing yours in his haste. Your hands tingle, his skin a conduit for all the electric feelings you have coursing through you, circuits of admiration and desire. He doesn’t seem to notice as he eagerly begins unwrapping the book like a child on Christmas morning. You curl your fingers inward, ignoring the echo of his touch.

“A thing of beauty,” he says when he has freed the book at last. You nod, smiling at the pleased look on his face. 

“The Selected Works of Christina Rosetti,” you read out loud as he touches the gold embossed cover. “You sure do like your love poems,” you say with a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes. 

Since he wandered into your bookstore seeking shelter from a sudden downpour, every book he has bought or had special ordered has been about love. He can talk about other subjects for ages, certainly. He’s regaled you with stories about historical events, art, architecture. And he is a phenomenal listener. He’s spent hours, cup of coffee in hand, listening to you wax poetic about Whitman and Dickinson and Poe and Frost and countered with stories about Michelangelo, Goethe, and Gaudi, but when it comes to the actual purchases he makes in your little store, they have always revolved around love. You can recite them like a litany: “Shakespeare’s Most Romantic Sonnets”, “The Lord Byron Collection”, “Rainer Maria Rilke: The Essential Poems”, “Wordsworth’s Love Poems”. Clearly he has someone he is head over heels for and your tiny flame of love is destined to burn, unrequited.

He glances up from the book. “Do you like Shelley?”

You know only a little about the poet Percy Blythe Shelley and yet the words that fly from your lips like escaped birds from a cage are: “I absolutely adore Shelly!”

He smiles and it does nothing to stop the immediate panicked stumble your heart has just taken, first at your lie and second, at that look on his face.

“The university has a very rare copy of “Love’s Philosophy” on loan. Would you like to take a look at it?”

*

And that simple question is why you find yourself rushing through a downpour of epic proportions, heels kicking up rainwater, hurrying to meet him at his office. You ignore the looks from the people heading home, grumbling under their umbrellas. It’s been a long day and here you are, a banshee in a pencil skirt, flying past them as fast as two inches will let you through a rain so thick you could probably wear goggles and see better than through your squinted vision. 

You run, nearly slip, your way up the steps and into the College of Arts and Sciences where Da Vinci is senior professor. The adrenaline rush that has been powering you began less than an hour ago when you realized you had spent too long picking what to wear, finding the right makeup tutorial on YouTube and searching for a hairstyle that would tame the lion’s mane on your head. Time had slipped so quickly through the cracks of your fingers that you ended up in the same clothes you had worn to work, your hair in a bun that valiantly tried and failed to hold all your locks, and a swipe of lip gloss that has long since faded. And now, on top of it all, you are late.  

Leaving little puddles in your wake you manage to find the elevator and then drip your way down the hall to the door that says “Professor Leonardo Da Vinci.” You try to steel yourself, but the scaffolding is weak and you buckle, hands on your knees as you struggle to catch your breath. This is a bad idea. Maybe you should cancel. You exchanged numbers. You could just send a text that due to the weather, you weren’t–

“Oddio, come in!” The door to his office has been flung open and there he is. Concern paints his handsome face as surely as embarrassment is coloring yours. You have no choice now but to step inside, acutely aware of how wet you are. That is until you take in his office and momentarily forget anything else.. 

Bookshelves filled to overflowing line the walls, stacks upon stacks of papers and notebooks and are those scrolls? He has Post-Its all over with reminders, even the bottom of his monitor is lined with them. Pencils, pens, a tablet, even an old-fashioned inkwell and quill are arranged on his desk. It is so impressive, so overwhelming in it's chaos, you forget for a moment your resemblance to a wet cat.

He approaches you, holding out a small hand towel. Outside the rain pelts the glass window of his office, eager to say hello. Your heart hammers back that this is all its fault. The rain ignores your accusation.

“Here. Please take this. I know I must have something here you can….change into…” He trails off and it dawns on you that he can’t seem to focus. You follow his gaze, your head dropping until you realize the rain has soaked you so completely, your blouse and skirt are molded to you, like Ives’s famous sculpture of Undine rising from the water. Your eyes fly back to his and what you see in them burns through you so strongly you’re half-surprised all the water clinging to you doesn’t evaporate immediately. 

You hurriedly grab the towel from his hand and it breaks the moment. Leonardo turns, clearing his throat as he makes a vague gesture toward the smaller, backroom of his office, words like “extra sweater”, “somewhere back here”, “right back” tumbling from his lips as he disappears.

Breathing out, you hastily begin trying to dry yourself off, your limbs as graceful as a marionette controlled by a drunken puppeteer. Of course you knock over a pile of books from the edge of his desk. Kneeling, you hurriedly try to gather them up again. When you notice what is in your arms, you can’t help but pause, a smile on your lips. All the books he has ordered from your store. You stand, carefully setting them back on his desk and breathe out. No one will be the wiser.

As you continue to try and make yourself somewhat presentable, your gaze begins traveling over the spines of the books in his impressively full bookshelf. You spot biographies of Renaissance greats, books on the cartography of Italy, engineering histories. Wandering further brings you to his collection of poetry. Whitman and Donne and Eliot. And then you pause. “The Selected Works of Christina Rosetti”. But this is clearly not the copy he ordered from your store. That one you just put back on his desk. This one has a cracked spine that tells a story of age and use and fingers that have turned those pages countless times. You scan the rest of his poetry shelf. “Shakespeare’s Most Romantic Sonnets”, “The Lord Byron Collection”, “Rainer Maria Rilke: The Essential Poems”, “Wordsworth’s Love Poems”. They are all already there, and all well-worn and older.

“I’m afraid all I have is this school sweatshirt the faculty was given for some reason or another and–” He pauses when he sees where you are standing.

You turn, confusion in the furrow of your brow.

“Professor-”

“Leonardo.” He is walking toward you, expression soft, the maroon-colored sweatshirt dropping from his fingers to the floor. “Call me Leonardo.”

He stops in front of you, closer than he has ever been. No store counter between you, no barrier. Your heart is the thunder accompanying the rainfall outside.

“Leonardo….” His name on your lips feels like a kiss. It affects him too, hearing you say it. He blinks those beautiful, golden eyes of his.

“Yes, cara mia?” He takes a step closer. 

“Why….” Your head is tilted upward, eyes on his face, your true north in the storm of emotion inside you. When you speak, your voice is hushed, as if a whisper could help you as you teeter on the knife’s edge between hope and regret. “Why…do you already have copies of all the books you’ve ordered from my store?”

Hope presses itself into your heart, breath held. Could it be….

He reaches up, brushing back the damp strands of hair from your face. His hands remain, cupping your cheeks, gentle and reverent. 

“Why do you think?”, he whispers, his voice husky with something that sends sparks of radiant want bursting through your veins.

“Leonardo,” his name is a breath, hope igniting into flame, as he leans down, brushing his lips against yours. Once. Twice. And then he kisses you. Soundly.

His mouth is on yours and his lips and tongue tell you a story: how he was drawn to you from the moment he saw you, how every order was just an excuse to see you again. He pulls you against him, wetness be damned, his hands running over you, joining in the telling. How he had hoped you would notice the topic of all his orders. How you would see how much he admired your quick mind and open heart. 

And now, pressed against him, rainwater bleeding from your blouse onto his shirt, skin tantalizingly visible and yet not, covered by wet fabric that doesn't quite hide its heat, he hopes you feel how much he has longed for you. How nights were eaten alive by visions of just this, holding you, touching you, discovering the mystery of what it means to taste you. He is a man of knowledge and you are a subject he has been aching to explore.

Breathless, you break apart, the only sound in the office the intermingled rhythm of your breathing and the rain falling outside.

Leonardo brings his lips to yours again, as if even this short break is too much, speaking between kisses. “The rain….brought me to your store….” You interrupt him when you kiss him back, gripping the back of his neck. He laughs softly against your lips. "And now it brings you to me. Like this."

You blink against the fog of happiness as you, still in the circle of his arms, glance down to see how soaked you both are.

"I'm so sorry! I should go home and change and–"

He tightens his hold on you, eyes gleaming, grin slow and sweet and rich as molasses.

"You, cara mia, will stay right here." He lowers his mouth to yours once more, your body yielding to his as a tree that bends to the wind. "I'm certain we'll figure out what to do about all these wet clothes."

💜

Tagging: @aquagirl1978 @atelieredux @alixennial @alexxavicry @rhodolitesroseforclavis @somekidnamedkai @ikemen-prince-writers-posts @bellerose-arcana @thewitchofbooks @ikehoe @redheadkittys @themysticalbeing

[scarlett-vixen]

R with Satan and fluff please? Thank you!

I’m sorry this took so dang long, you were like the third person to request but I wanted this to be good!! I’m so extremely happy you chose Satan for this, I had him in mind when I picked the word👀 I cheated slightly and built off a previous hc I have on this don’t sue me

Prompt: R- Romeo

Pairing: Satan x Gn!Reader

Genre: Fluff

“Two households, both alike in dignity

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,

From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,

Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.

From forth the fatal loins of these two foes

A pair of star-crossed lovers take their life,

Whose misadventured piteous overthrows

Doth with their death bury their parents' strife.

The fearful passage of their death-marked love

And the continuance of their parents' rage,

Which, but their children’s end, naught could remove,

Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage—

The which, if you with patient ears attend,

What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.”

Satan had read the entire play three times now, beginning to end, but he kept coming back to the prologue just for that one line.

“A pair of star crossed lovers”

The words etched in his brain, he had assumed he would make a connection about the two of you while reading, but he didn’t realize just how strong the connection would be.

It all started a few months back, he had been regaling you with his knowledge on why the rose was a symbolic item of romance in the human world and it’s equivalent in the Devildom, you had teased him about it when he finished.

“Okay Romeo, I just asked why they don’t grow down here, I didn’t need a romance lesson.”

You had caught him off guard, Romeo? Who’s that? Satan had been unsure if he should be offended or concerned, you confusing him with the name of someone else was not common, however your smile and laughter told him perhaps he was over reacting.

After that you had casually continued to call him by the name. Satan noticed though, you never used the name when any of his brothers were near, you only used it in a teasing manner when the two of you were alone.

He didn’t quite understand the joke but seeing the smile on your face when using the name made his heart flutter. He had been hiding his feelings for you for a long time now, always assuming you were far more interested in one of his brothers, love was a very foreign feeling to him but he knew that’s what he felt towards you. Yesterday though, things became a little more complicated.

The two of you were sitting at your desks comparing notes before class ended, the bell rang and you packed your things to leave, as you walked behind him you had softly said goodbye.

“See you back at the house, Romeo!” The name had been much quieter than the rest of your words yet it lingered the longest in his mind. Satan felt his cheeks warm up, that was the first time you had used the name outside of the HoL, he still didn’t know what it meant but he had stopped caring mostly.

Satan started to gather his things when he heard footsteps approaching, he turned to find Solomon with a shit eating grin on his face, the wizard laughed before speaking.

“How adorable, who would have thought the Avatar of Wrath would ever be compared to Romeo Montague, though it is very fitting for the situation I must say.” Boldly taking a condescending tone with the fourth born, somehow he had overheard you as you left the room.

Satan was entirely confused at this point, why was this Romeo so important? How did Solomon know about them? Were they one of your ex lovers? He felt a fire flicker in his heart at the thought. Tired of not knowing, Satan questioned why the name was so amusing.

Solomon had explained that ‘Romeo’ was a character from a very famous play in the human world, that the comparison between Romeo and the other main character Juliet to Satan and you was actually very interesting, Solomon could tell the fourth born was still confused and had offered to loan him his copy of the play.

Now here he was, alone in his room reading through the play for the fourth time, unsure of where to go from here.

This was a love story, a tragic one but still a play about two hearts in love, did you really feel the same way? Was it possible that you got the same feelings he did when the two of you were alone? Did your cheeks flush at the thought of him? Did your heart race when his hand brushed against yours in class? Was the nickname Romeo your way of revealing that you were in love with him?

He considered, for a moment, running to find you and confessing his love. He wanted to admit his feelings for you the same way the two lovers had in the play, you up on the balcony looking over the HoL’s garden and him down below looking up at you as the moonlight caressed your face, then perhaps he could finally wrap you in his embrace and know what it felt like to have you close.

But love is a cruel mistress. The more Satan thought about you the more he thought about the ending of the play. What if your love was forbidden just like theirs? What if somewhere along the way he lost control of his anger and hurt you? He could never forgive himself if he did. He wanted you happy more than anything, even if that meant keeping his feelings a secret.

After a while, Satan put the book down and decided to go for a walk to clear his mind. He was heading down the hallway when something caught his eye in the library, there amongst the rows of books stood you. He lingered in the doorway for a moment, he never knew why but something about you always captivated him, you looked just as stunning as you always did. As if you were pulling him in by an invisible rope, the fourth born started walking towards you.

“But soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun.”

You jumped slightly, the sudden voice startling you, Satan watched as you turned to face him. He felt his heart speed up, what the hell was he doing? His mouth went dry and his hands felt clammy, he had involuntarily quoted the line to you with no plans on how to follow up, what idiot does that?

“So you finally read the play?” The Avatar of Wrath watched a blush creep onto your cheeks, the warm smile you gave made him melt, he was in too deep to back out now.

“I did, and I hope that I’ve interpreted the theme properly,” Satan made his way towards you, gently taking your wrist and pulling you in close, lacing your fingers together in one hand and placing his other on your waist. “However, correct me if I’m wrong.”

Gathering all of his courage, the fourth born closed his eyes and leaned in, he placed a soft kiss on your lips terrified of being rejected. Satan pulled back just enough to look at you, the blush on your face now more pronounced, he felt his own face grow hot realizing what he had done.

“No, you got it right.” You gave a sheepish smile, your eyes locked on his lips, Satan was sure you could hear his heart beating in his chest.

“Good,” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you flush against his chest, his other hand still intertwined with yours, he locked his lips on yours once more, this time trying to convey the pure passion he had for you all along. He released your lips from his own and brushed his cheek against yours, he softly whispered against your ear. “Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight, For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

[queenlucythevaliant]

“Do you honestly mean to tell me, Edmund, that you’ve never read King Lear?”

Professor Digory was leaning forward over his desk, regarding Edmund with unreadable eyes. His voice rested heavily, deliberately on the name. There was a note of irony in it that was difficult to place.

Edmund shook his head. “I’ve never been assigned it,” he said. “Hamlet, Othello, Romeo and Juliet, but never King Lear. Is something the matter?”

The Professor didn’t answer. “What do they teach in these schools?” he was muttering, reaching back behind him. His plays were crammed so closely together on their shelf that he struggled to extricate Lear. When at last he managed it, he ran a hand over the cover, then passed it over the desk to Edmund.

“Homework?” asked Edmund.

Professor Digory smiled cryptically. “Consider it self-exploration.”

*

There was something almost magic about seeing one’s own name in heavily-serifed font beside lines of Shakespearean dialogue. Edmund flipped through the pages before he began reading and his eyes stuttered over it. “EDMUND.” Centered on the page. Words below. A soliloquy perhaps. If nothing else, he understood the Professor’s humor better now.

“EDMUND, younger bastard son to Gloucester,” read the Dramatis Personae. Introduced on the first page along with his father’s crass embarrassment. In scene two, he became a traitor.

“Legitimate Edgar, I must have your land,” said Edmund the bastard. A moment later he was lying to his father and older brother, turning his family one against the other. Edmund—the boy reading the book, not a bastard, not a traitor any longer—felt his stomach turn over.

Older brothers, like Edgar, like Peter, were given good things. They were heirs and high kings, the masters of their families. They were good and faithful and trustworthy. There is nothing to resent, bastard Edmund. He’ll be a better king than you, don’t you see? Not a treacherous bone in his body.

Peter wouldn’t have doubted his brother had Lucy not been there to contradict him. Edgar did as Edmund told him. He ran, and he suffered for it.

Yet younger brothers resented. There was no way around it. Their fathers and brothers and sisters could love them until their hearts stopped, but the resentment would be there anyway. Edmund remembered what it was like to choke on it. Your older brother will always be better than you, and when you don’t know any better, you’ll hate him for it.

Even now, there was a part of Edmund— (small, miniscule, couldn’t find it with a map or see it with a magnifying glass)—that still resented Peter. Peter the Magnificent, whom Aslan called to rule above all others and who his parents left in charge whenever they were gone. Peter, who had never let them down. Edmund resented Peter with a tiny, barely acknowledged corner of his heart, and he locked that resentment up in a black box and stashed it where he didn’t have to look at it. Edmund loved Peter; he did. He’d wager that no one had ever loved his brother or his king more. But that love would always be complicated by the feelings of insufficiency that lived in its margins.

Younger brothers resented. Did the Professor know? Was that what he had meant when he said “self-exploration?” The thought made Edmund a little nauseous, if he was being honest. He had never wanted anyone to know.

*

When Gloucester, Edmund’s father, was violently blinded as a result of Edmund’s treachery, the old man lamented, “As flies to wanton boys are we to the gods/ They kill us for their sport.”

Now that he was thinking about it, Edmund—King Edmund the Just—began to realize just how pagan King Lear was. Men cried out to Jupiter, Juno, and Apollo for salvation. No one heard them. There was no divine solace to be found. Edmund stared at the page, furious on Gloucester’s behalf, and with a lurch he thought, Aslan is on the move.

It was Mr. Beaver’s voice he heard in his mind. They had been terrible words, once.

Gloucester thought that the gods made him miserable for sport, but the heavens in Lear were bleak and empty. No divine ear heard him when he renounced the gods at the cliffs of Dover, only Edgar, who for all his goodness could not save his father for more than a few scenes. There was no redemption, only the terrible weakness of human hands.

Edmund had nearly doomed a whole world with his treachery. He would not trivialize Edmund the bastard’s treachery, but all the same, he knew that he had done worse. That Edmund had gotten his father blinded, his brother exiled, the kingdom in chaos, and more still to follow, but Edmund—Edmund Pevensie—had given over his family and nearly allowed eternal winter in all Narnia. Yet there had been someone to fix his mistake, even to the point of death. Who could save Edmund of Gloucester?

*

At the end of the play, Edmund repented. Was it enough?

Edgar charged him. “False to thy gods, thy brother, and thy father,” he said. When Edmund read the words, he imagined that Edgar spoke them with a choked voice, holding back tears, determined not to cry. He sounded like Peter the morning of their reunion.

Edmund fought his brother and lost, and as he lay dying, he admitted his guilt and tried to save Cordelia. “Some good I mean to do, despite of my own nature.” What was that nature? Spite? Treachery? Resentment? All that and more, Edmund decided. Just as his own had been, once.

Human nature, the insufficiency of human love. “Yet Edmund was beloved,” the poor bastard insisted, panting for breath. Had Reagan and Goneril really loved him? Edmund Pevensie didn’t think so. Edgar had, though. Gloucester too, in his insensitive way. And Cordelia had loved Lear, but still she hurt him with her bluntness. Lear loved Cordelia, but he cast her off. Kent loved Lear, but he could not protect him. They all loved each other, hard and fierce and wrong. It wasn’t enough to save them.

Edmund imagined himself old and infirm. He imagined himself with no siblings and three daughters, trying to pass the rulership of Narnia on. What if he made Lear’s mistakes? It didn’t seem likely, but it would not be impossible. If his mind failed him in old age and his temper ran hot, he might doom his own kingdom just as Lear did. Did the thought frighten him?

No, not for a minute. He could never doom Narnia so completely. He did not have that power. Only Aslan, the infallible king, oversaw Narnia’s rising and falling.

Edmund’s stomach twisted again, this time with pity.

*

“Well? What did you make of it?” asked Professor Digory.

“It made me sad.”

Digory snorted, very un-Professorly for a moment. “Tragedies tend to do that, my boy.”

“I don’t mean the deaths or the misery or the loss,” said Edmund, trying to collect his thoughts. “I pitied them, in the end. And it was almost like pitying myself the way I was. Lonely and resentful. Foolish and treacherous.”

“Self-pity?”

“No. More like—I sorrowed for them because there was no one to fix them or to save them. Even a traitor may mend—but we can’t do it on our own.”

*

EDMUND.

What you have charg’d me with, that have I done;

And more, much more; time will bring it out.

‘Tis past.

 ASLAN.

Here is your brother, and there is no need

to talk to him about what is past.

[blessednereid]

Pity the Living

Daniel Sharman x Reader Series

A/N: The Much Requested, and By Requested, I mean @rogershoe wanted me to write this, MY DANIEL SHARMAN FANFICTION!!!!!! The character that Y/N plays is based on my OC for FTWD and is not an actual character in FTWD. Basic Premise of the setting for this chapter is that they're in high-school/ secondary school. But for the majority of the story(minus flashbacks) it's set in 2016/17 when s3 of FTWD was filmed.

Story Summary: When (Y/N) (L/N) reunites with a high-school friend on the set of the job she's been working on for the past 2-3 years, not only is she excited to work with the guy who inspired her to go into acting, but to hear about what he's done since she's seen him. But the more they talk, the more she realizes, this reunion is not going the way she had planned.

CW: Cursing? brief mention of alcohol, anxiety, mentions of food, fake dagger, fake blood, bets,

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Career Day

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Most of the students around you were chorusing to the tune of your school anthem, but not you. You had heard the melody and sung it almost a million times. Whether you were exaggerating or not, not even you knew. Instead, you were whispering and laughing with one of your best friends, Daniel Sharman.

You met Daniel when you first came to the school. You didn't know many people. You didn't even know yourself in this place. It was a completely foreign experience, but he stuck by your side and showed you around.

Since then, you had made friends, joined the swim team, learned your way around the school without ending up in the boys' restrooms instead of the girls' ones. Despite not needing Daniel to show you around anymore, he still provided plenty of comedic support and pick-me-ups and was a great mate all around.

Your teacher had just finished introducing all the parents who were presenting at career day. The assignment being after the presentations were finished, you were supposed to think about what you wanted to be in the future. You had no idea what you wanted to be. But of course… Daniel did.

"An actor."

"An actor?" he nodded. "Like Macbeth?"

"No, Macbeth is a character. An actor is a person who plays the character."

"Why an actor?"

"Dunno. Just seems right."

You frowned. "Huh, that's nice. Knowing what you want to be."

"You could always try acting. It's worth a shot."

"Hah, if I ever tried acting, it would probably be when I'm old, senile, and look like Betty White."

"Oh, come on. You're a great actress!"

"What's that supposed to mean, Sharman?" you gasped.

"Just that you tell fibs and stories as if they were the truth. That's all acting is."

"I DO NOT!"

"How did you convince your mum that your dog jumped onto the table and ate the cake without making any noise last weekend, then?" You opened your mouth to speak before closing it.

"Cat got your tongue?" he teased.

"Shut up, Sharman."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

L/N Residence

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You and Daniel were both swimming in the pool in your backyard when Daniel asked you the question.

"Did you think about it?"

Still floating, you asked, "About what?"

"Acting."

You laughed incredulously. "You were serious?"

"Of course I was." He swam closer to you and pulled your leg down, making you flop around and splash water.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"Was just trying to get your attention," he remarked innocently.

You coughed. "You had it."

"Picture this," he waved you off. "Us, on the red carpet-"

"Who's red carpet?"

"Does it matter? We'll be each other's dates anyways."

"Why is that?" you asked.

"Because we're best friends."

"What if one of us has a boyfriend or girlfriend?"

He shrugged. "Ok, whatever. We're on the red carpet separately. It's both of ours red carpet-"

"So, does that mean we're in a movie together?"

"Yes, Y/N," he muttered exasperatedly.

"But that's impossible?"

"Why do you say that?"

You leaned closer to his ear. "BECAUSE I'M NOT BECOMING AN ACTOR."

He jumped away from you, proceeding to splash you with water.

"Mark my words. I know talent when I see it."

You sighed. "Could this just be you not wanting to be lonely in the acting world?"

He jutted his lip and spoke in a whiny voice. "Maybe…"

You laughed before splashing a giant wave of water at him. While he still had water in his eyes, you dove under and pulled him down.

He flailed around before his head popped up, and he calmed down.

"WHAT THE HELL!"

"PAYBACK, SHARMAN!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Announcement

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

The intercom gave a heavy buzz, and static-y noises ran amok over the building before a voice actually came through the speakers.

"Hello, Teachers, Students, and Faculty. Welcome back to school. We hope that you all enjoyed your holidays and got the rest you needed to pay attention in class today," the last part was passive. Your principal gave more announcements for clubs and sports around the school, such as upcoming games or reminders for students to buy the school yearbook.

You were nodding along interested, or looking for interest really when something caught your best friend's attention.

"The school will also be hosting its first-ever play, Romeo and Juliet. Interested people should report to the music room before the end of the week to receive information."

You saw Daniel's eyes widen only moments before he spoke up. "Hey," he waved at you. "You should audition!"

"Daniel, are you insane?"

He chuckled, "No, but I think you'd like it."

You tried arguing, but he wasn't taking no for an answer. "You're the one who said you didn't know what you wanted to do after you graduated. Doing this cannot hurt."

"Yeah, it can't hurt until I trip on my costumes and break my neck!"

"That rarely ever happens," he said exasperatedly. "Ok, how about this? You audition, and if you end up getting a role and actually doing the play, I'll give you fifty pounds."

You squinted. "Do you even have fifty pounds to give me?"

"Do you even have to ask," he feigned shock in the accusation? You gave a sour face before he truthfully answered. "Fine, I don't have it now. But I will by the time the play comes around."

"What do I get just for auditioning?"

"I'll convince my mum to make that cake you like."

"Fine."

"BUT!" he exclaimed. "You have to audition for Juliet."

"You're kidding?"

He laughed. "No, I'm not. You have to audition for Juliet."

"I hate you," you mumbled before sighing a whispered 'fine.'

He gave a toothy smile. "Then we have a deal."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Auditions

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You reluctantly walked onto the stage, Daniel's widening grin so visible in the audience. He said that he only put his name on the audition sheet so he could watch the auditions. He would've already been gone by the time it was his turn.

"Hello, My name is Y/n L/n, and I am auditioning for Juliet," your lips pressing into a straight line after saying the sentence.

You stammered through your first few lines. "Sh-Shall I speak ill of him— that is my husband?" You said with a laugh.

"Ah," you paused and clicked your tongue. "Poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name… When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?"

You said your following line in an accusatory manner. "But wherefore, villain... didst thou kill my cousin?" you said, though your voice squealed trying to pronounce 'didst.' "That villain cousin would have killed my husband."

"Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring!" Your voice rose and fell several octaves. "Your tributary drops belong to woe, Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy." Fake tears spring to your eyes, your voice cracked, and you began slowly falling against an invisible wall.

You looked down at your paper for what to say next. "My husband lives, that Tybalt would have slain; And Tybalt's dead, that would have slain my husband. All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?" You wiped your cheeks dramatically.

"Some word there was, worser than Tybalt's death, That murd'red me. I would forget it fain;" your lips quivered, and you sucked in deep, heaving breaths before speaking your line.

"But O, it presses to my memory. Like damnèd guilty deeds to sinners' minds! 'Tybalt is dead, and Romeo--banishèd!" You shouted.

You stood back up in a startling jump, and with a proud smile, you said triumphantly, "And Scene!"

The directors and some students in the audience, especially Daniel, gave a round of applause before the director dismissed you.

You took the steps to the stage and sat next to Daniel as the director called the next student to audition.

"You were amazing! The director might as well have given you the role right then and there."

You laughed, "Hang on, charmer. There were a bunch of Juliet's who literally said that entire thing so… fluently. I stammered through the whole thing."

"But you showed more emotion than anyone else. You only had a week to prepare. The actual show will be like child's play."

"They want people who can memorize and recite. The emotion can be added later, but it's worth nothing if they forget their lines."

"There is such a thing called improvising for a reason," he reassured.

"Who in their right, bloody minds wants to improvise Shakespeare?"

He turned his head and chuckled before waving a five-pound note in front of your face. "Here, I got to go before they call me, but you earned this at least."

"Five pounds for being forced to audition for a stupid play so you can prove a point? Wow, you must really fancy me, huh, Sharman?" you said sarcastically.

"Goodbye, L/n," he whispered before sneaking out the back door of the auditorium.

"Alright, next up. Daniel Sharman!" The director shouted your friend's name a few more times before giving up.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Headmasters Office

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

A week after your audition, you were called to the headmasters' office. Thus is the cause of the curious looks from your classmates. Oohs and Aahs flooded your ears as you grabbed your bag and headed out the door to the front of the school.

When you got to the front of the building and went into the headmasters' office, you saw the Theatre director, Ms Parker, standing behind the desk. "Headmaster Leo allowed me to use his office to do this. Isn't that cool?"

Ms Parker was one of the younger teachers in school. She was twenty-four, and this was her first year teaching after receiving her bachelor's degree in education and a master's degree in music production. A fact she could astoundingly ramble about for fifteen minutes. As proven at the auditions.

"I didn't want to call you to the theatre room. That would be too predictable, correct?" You'd come to realize she was a very eccentric woman. "I have called you in here to inform you that you have been selected to perform in this year's play of Romeo and Juliet."

A wave of shock coursed through your body, and you were sure it reflected on your face. "Are you sure?"

"Darling, I'm positive!- your audition was totally spectacular! So brilliant-in fact- that I am completely sure in my choice to make you our female lead- Juliet!"

"What!" Your eyes widened into a blank stare. Your thoughts were running rampant in your mind. You thought that performing on the stage would be a breeze when you weren't the lead.

"Ms Parker, I didn't actually want the part of Juliet! It's just that my friend dared me to audition for Juliet! Is there no way I can get a smaller part? I'm no Juliet. The show would be ruined," you rambled.

The directors' facial expressions softened, "Darling, you are the only choice. None of the other people who auditioned can even compare to the amount of passion you produced in that audition. I am determined to have you as our Juliet."

You whimpered out an "Ok." Professors had a strange way of convincing you to do extra credit assignments or things that aren't necessary.

"We have a chemistry read for you and a few of our other choices for Romeo after school today. Do you need to contact a parent to let them know where you'll be?"

"Uh, yes, please."

After you made your call, you walked back to your classroom with shaky hands. The class period was almost over, but you had to tell Daniel that you had gotten a part in the show. Not just any part- THE PART!

You shuffled into the classroom reluctantly. All eyes were on you as every student had assumed you'd been in trouble. Either suspended, expelled, or told your parents were going to have a sit-down with the headmaster.

You took your seat next to Daniel before taking out a piece of paper and writing out a note, encompassing the words, "I got the part!"

You slid the sheet discreetly onto his desk. When he read it, his eyes widened, and he quietly moved his hands toward yours, beckoning for a high five.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

First Rehearsal

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

After the chemistry read, the role of Romeo was given to a kid named James Mercer-Allen got the part. Though it was more because the directors were starting to become tired.

The next day was the first rehearsal. Swimming season was last semester, so there was no clash in schedules with the play.

"Alright, this rehearsal is to get acquainted with the stage, your fellow actors, and directors," she insisted. "Now, let's introduce ourselves. Can our Romeo please stand up?"

James stood up and gave a brief introduction. You were called on next. You stated your name, "I was on the swim team last semester, and I'm in my thirteenth year. I hope I can do this role justice."

More students stood up to introduce themselves. The entire process took more than thirty minutes.

The next thing to happen was that the rest of the students were called to recite lines for various roles. The only parts that had been cast preliminarily were Romeo and Juliet.

You and James had sat on the wooden stools unless there was a scene going on that needed Romeo and/or Juliet.

By the end of the first rehearsal, the majority of the speaking roles were cast. You went home exhausted but not expecting the conversation that waited for you.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Talk

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"We're moving?" you shouted at your parents from your seat across from them in the sitting room. "What do you mean we're moving."

"Honey, your dad got a job in the states, so we have to move," your mother argued.

"But what about school? No school will take me in the middle of the year, and it's my last year of secondary school. I don't want to spend the rest of my last year knowing nobody."

Your dad, the man of the hour, spoke up. "Dear, we're moving at the end of the year. After school ends."

"But- What about Uni?"

"You said you were taking a sabbatical year!"

"Yes, so I could intern in London!"

"Can't you intern in California?" Your mother whined.

"We're going to California? It's the furthest state?"

Your dad attempted to reassure you but failed. "Darling, it won't be that bad. Maybe you'll like it there more than you like it here!"

"I could never like anywhere more than I like it here!"

You agreed to go to your room and spent the rest of the day there. Later on, after you finished moping, you ringed up your closest friends to tell them you were moving. You did that until you were so tired you fell asleep on the phone with Sarah before you even called Daniel.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Confrontation

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

"Why am I hearing from everyone besides you that you're moving?" Daniel appeared out of thin air behind you, and the accusation was an assault on your conscience.

You could lie and tell him that you wanted to reveal that to him in person, or you could just tell him the truth- say you fell asleep. Mix-and-Match? You ended up just telling the truth. "I fell asleep when I was making some of my other calls. I was going to tell you, I swear!"

"Why didn't you call me first. I'm your best friend?"

"That's why! It was too hard. I kept putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I didn't want to tell you, I don't want it to be true, and telling you of all people would make it feel real."

"Why can't you stay for Uni?"

"I already told my parents I was taking a gap year. I didn't apply to any colleges."

"Crap!" he sighed. "Ok, well, we're going to have to make the most of it. And! You're getting a going away party!"

"Daniel, I don't need-"

"No debate! You are getting a going away party!"

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Opening Night

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Four months later, after all the rehearsals and memorizations of lines. After much running around the entire film department, it was finally opening night, and your nerves were shot.

You were scrambling all morning to find everything you needed. All your costumes were at the school, but you still needed to bring your black leotard, skin-coloured tights, and wear your hair in an up-do style.

You decided to do your skincare routine, but your panic got the best of you, and you forgot what every single product was used for.

Daniel came over and helped you get ready but found you practically hyperventilating.

Your parents drove you both to the theatre, and when Ms Parker told you that Daniel couldn't be backstage, you promptly told her that he was your emotional support. After much arguing, she finally let him backstage.

Around an hour before showtime, the director told Daniel that he had to go wait in the audience if he already bought his ticket or that he had to go do it now.

Before he left, he gave you a pep-talk. "Hey, so one time, I was in this play, and the idea was that I was expelled, and there was a piece of paper I had to give my 'mother,' but I lost it. So we had to improvise, but I couldn't find the paper, and I felt horrible. So just know, even if you forget your lines, you must improvise, and remember, it still probably won't compare to the embarrassment I felt that day. So you can laugh at my humiliation. "

You chuckled, "I will. Ok, go before you get in trouble."

"Ok, me, our parents and all your friends will be in the front row. I've already reserved the entire row. I brought a whole bag of jackets just for that reason!"

"You can't do that," you said in between cackles.

"For you, I'll do anything," he grinned.

A few hours later and the show was almost done. "What's here? A cup, closed in my true love's hand? Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end," you wept.

"O, churl! Drunk all and left no friendly drop to help me after? I will kiss thy lips; Haply some poison yet doth hang on them, to die with thine restorative." You leaned over James and let your hair fall to the side of your head to cover your face. You pulled back without actually kissing James.

"Thy lips are warm."

A whispery voice came from offstage, "Which way?" The cue for you to take the poison, which was actually cranberry juice.

"Yea, noise? Then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!" You grabbed the dagger and brought it near your chest. "This is thy sheath;" you drew the fake knife back three inches from your chest and stabbed it to where the bag of more cranberry juice was and punctured the bag. 'Blood' soaked through your dress. "There rust, and let me die." You fell dramatically onto the altar and waited for the scene to end as the crowd cheered.

After the show, you dashed into the crowd where your friends and family waited for you. Ovations and Applauses were passed, lauded boxes of chocolates and gorgeous roses were given.

When you got to Daniel, he practically tackled you with a hug. "I actually thought you died for a split second. The blood looked so real."

"Daniel, most people don't bleed that fast, do they?"

"I don't know but fear kicked in, and I couldn't make sense of anything."

You grinned and almost went to your parents before Daniel grabbed your arm. "You don't have a date to the Leavers ball, do you?"

"No, I don't. Why?"

He sighed. "Well, I was thinking that you could go with me. I don't have a date either."

You squinted, thinking there was some ulterior motive behind his actions. "Ok, I'll go with you if you give me the money you owe me before then."

"It's right here," he smiled.

Your face scrunched up, but you reluctantly agreed. You only had a month of school left, and you might as well spend it having fun with your friends.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

The Leavers Ball and the Getaway Party

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

You were dressed in a light blue, pleated, Mikado prom dress that cut off at mid-thigh. You had black wedges on your feet and a black pearl-beaded bracelet on your arm.

You were wearing a half-up, half-down style that framed your face and a silver necklace with a circle-shaped diamond.

You were sitting in the parlour when Daniel rang the doorbell. He was ten minutes late.

"Sorry," he said when your dad answered it. "I know I'm late. I was picking up Kat and James."

Kat and James were your and Daniel's respective friends who'd started last year after you and Daniel introduced them.

"Hi," you popped out of the shadows. "Alright, Mom, Dad, we're late, so we're just going to get goi-"

"Wait! I have to take pictures! Go get Kat and James."

"No, Mom. No pictures!"

"It's only right. I just want a few. We can take it outside."

You sighed but reluctantly caved into your mother's will.

The four of you took pictures outside of Daniel's Jeep Wrangler. You took ones with silly faces, just girls, just boys, and ones with all four of you before your parents allowed you to leave.

You were forty minutes late, and the ball was already in full swing by the time you got there.

You got on the dance floor immediately because one of your favourite songs was playing, but the DJ switched the song as soon as you found a decent spot. It was a slow song. You chuckled, and Daniel put his hands on your waist.

"Well, this is awkward."

A few minutes later, Daniel posed an interesting question.

"Did you know that I had a crush on you when you first came to school?"

"Uh, you stammered. "No, I didn't know that."

"Yeah, I did. It was short, though. Surface-level."

"Oh," you said. "Should I take offence to that?"

"What?" His eyes widened in realization with what he said. "No, that's not what I meant. You have an amazing personality. I just meant that… I just meant I like you more as a friend than to ruin that with any of those feelings."

"Oh, ok. You wouldn't have, though."

"I wouldn't?"

"No, everyone needs an ego boost every once in a while."

"Haha!"

"And besides, I've had feelings for you at one point too. But it was very cliche, so I tried to shake it as hard as I could."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "And did you?"

"Like I said, as hard as I could. If it's still there somewhere, it's buried very deep, so much so that I was embarrassed."

"Embarrassed to like me?"

"I mean embarrassed to try and make my life seem like some movie."

"Oh, well, if you did, it would've just made you that much better as an actress. Speaking of that, would you consider acting in the least?"

"Maybe, now that I'm leaving, it's basically the last thing I have to connect me to you."

"No," he said, pointing to your bracelet. "You have that."

You had forgotten that it was Daniel who gave it to you, but the realization brought a smile to your face. "Oh yeah, I'll never take it off."

Later on, long before the ball ended, you saw many of your friends leaving.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" Daniel approached you.

"Where is everyone going?"

He wriggled his eyebrows. "Afterparty!"

"But it's not over?"

"Quit being a party popper and just come with us, L/N!"

You gave in, something you did a lot, and you all started driving. When you got there, you realized you were at Daniel's house.

"The afterparty is at your house?" you asked.

"Well…" James answered.

Kat joined in. "It's really an afterparty!"

"This is your going away party!" Daniel finished.

"But I'm not going away for another month."

"Well, now you have an entire month for people to give you gifts and stuff, and you don't have to worry about the party!" He reasoned.

"But why did it have to be after the Leavers ball?"

"Because you're already in a dress, and it has to be a surprise! Surprise!" Kat exclaimed.

"Alright, fine!"

The entire night you partied and danced, and though you didn't drink alcohol, plentiful amounts of pop and mocktails were passed around. The music was a delight to your ears with all your favourite songs. There were chips and pizza with all your favourite toppings.

"This party is awesome!"

Daniel grinned. "Well, I am an amazing party planner if I do say so myself."

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Airport

☆◦ 。／｜＼。◦☆

Daniel's parents drove your family to the airport. Your parents had sold the car. Your dad would return in a week to close a deal on the house. Everything was official, and now you were leaving.

You got out of the car, and the tears forcefully began to fall.

"I'm really gonna miss you, jerk," you said disdainfully to Daniel.

He chuckled. "I'm going to miss you more."

"Impossible!"

He wiped the fallen tear from your eye, and for a moment, you could see every single multi-coloured speck in his eyes and noticed how sometimes they looked blue, and at others, they looked grey or green.

You noticed the curvature of his smile and the chisel of his jawline.You saw the hurt in his eyes that said, 'why do you have to go? You're killing me,' and wanted to never move from that position.

He continued to rub the tears that fell onto your cheek, and the sad moment was as sheltered as it could be. You felt safe with him, in his arms, just looking at his face and being reminded of how he comforted you in a place that felt as familiar as Oz felt to Dorothy.

"What am I gonna do without you?" you whispered.

"Get at least one acting job, get an assistant and an agent, I'll do the same thing, and then either one of us has our assistants reach out to our agents, so we get back in touch in case we ever lose touch."

He sounded so grave that you couldn't help but laugh. "That's assuming I do become an actress, Daniel."

"You're right," he whined. "But don't forget me."

"I promise."

And you tried to keep that promise. Throughout your first year, you interned at UCLA, working in the lab. You then applied to go to school there, and you still tried to keep Daniel in your mind. Maintaining a social life on campus combined with schoolwork already wasn't easy. However, you still wouldn't let yourself forget your best friend.

It wasn't until you entered your senior year and you were about to graduate that he started to wane in your memories. The things you did together became obsolete as new friends and memories replaced the old. The things he taught you were thrown out to make space for the new lessons you learned each day.

Even when you did become an actress, you never really remembered why you decided to. You remembered that your friend pushed you to do that play, but it was almost ten years ago, and for the life of you, you couldn't remember his name.

But you did do it, first as an extra, then a body double, and then you started getting l roles on smaller shows. But your big break was getting a quasi-lead role on the spin-off of a big television show, The Walking Dead. For two years, you enjoyed going to conventions and playing the complex character, Valeria Bishop, and you thought you had it all figured out.

But life has a funny way of coming full circle and throwing you a curveball that knows you off course and changes your life.

[alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer]

romeo must die

this one-shot is based on the song Romeo Must Die by Gabrielle Aplin, I highly recommend listening to it! shout out to @eugeniaslongsword for introducing me to it :) i even borrowed some lyrics from it haha. it is also inspired by the entire playlist I made, "being treated badly by someone doesn't make you love them more"

content warnings: past toxic/unhealthy relationship, the uncomfy 6-year age gap between Alastair and Charles

Masterlist | Read on AO3

"Alastair, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"

Alastair looked up from what he was working on. He was in the library of the Institute, along with Cordelia, Thomas, James, Matthew, and Christopher. They were searching for any clue as to how Lucie had done what she’d done or what Tatiana and Belial were planning. Alastair wasn't entirely sure how he got roped into the ordeal, but it seemed as though Thomas suggested him as an extra set of eyes, and Cordelia latched onto the idea.

"No," he said curtly, returning to his reading.

"Excuse me?"

"I said no. I'm quite busy at the moment." Alastair spoke under his breath, not wanting to draw the others' attention. How many times had Charles barked the same words at him, swatting him away, hacking away at paperwork or planning his next step in his career? The words sat bittersweet in his chest.

"Surely you could spare a few moments."

"I certainly could. But I do not wish to." Charles had a way of getting into his head and twisting his words and his feelings. It was not an experience he wished to revisit. It was better here, with an audience. It had also been easier in the infirmary, knowing that he held all of the power. His father had made him feel the same way, he thought bitterly. He understood now that what he'd done at school was not only to protect himself from the bullies. He wanted to reclaim the power stolen from him by his father; he wanted for once in his life to hold power himself. He hadn't yet come to the realization that holding that kind of power did nothing but harm. It was of no use, anyways, because it didn't matter how much he perfected his tongue and his wit on the other students at the Academy, he was never able to use it when it counted. Not with Elias, and not with Charles.

"It's fine if you need to take a few minutes, Alastair,” Cordelia said gently. All of the eyes in the room had come to rest on the two of them. Now he wished he’d spoken louder.

“It’s alright, Charles was just leaving.”

He had hoped that Charles would give up and leave knowing that everyone was watching him, but he was determined. He grabbed Alastair’s arm. “It’ll just be-”

Alastair stood, but pulled his arm away. “Don’t touch me.”

In a flicker, Alastair saw it: the anxiety began to set in. Charles began to realize that he would not be able to play his usual tricks. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I believe I was quite clear when I told you I don’t wish to speak with you. You’re the one who can’t let this go.”

“Must you act so childish?”

He rolled his eyes. “Must you always call me childish for thinking for myself instead of catering to your every whim?”

“I don’t understand. You said we were fine.”

Alastair sighed. Perhaps for a moment, he thought that was true. For just a second, he thought there was a world where he and Charles could be friends. But Alastair had decided that he would no longer call people who hurt him his friends. “Yes, well, I lied. I wanted to let you down gently, but it’s clear to me now that it must be spelled out for you. How shall I put this? You and I are past our dancing days, Charles.”

“But-” He stammered, searching for words. “What happened with Grace Blackthorn wasn’t my fault.”

“Maybe not. But what of Miss Bridgestock? Am I to pretend that what happened with Miss Blackthorn was not the same as what happened two years earlier?”

“You told me many times that you took no issue with that, that you understood.”

“I understood what you told me, which we both know was never the full truth. I was a sixteen year old desperate for your affections, and the fact that you truly believe I never had any issue with your arrangement is proof that you never genuinely cared about me or listened to my thoughts. I told you in the infirmary that this wasn’t your fault because I thought it’d ease the pain, but I lied. And I don’t have time to sit here and watch you cry over it.”

Alastair wished that watching Charles become flustered would have been more enjoyable. Instead, all he wanted was for this to end. “You- you’re different than when we met. You’ve changed. You’re cruel and callous, I don’t understand how I could not see how heartless you were until now. You are everything that everyone claims you to be. How am I to even know what the truth is when it comes from your lips?”

There was a time when those words would have cut deeply into him, eating at his every insecurity, but Charles mistakenly assumed that Alastair was the same person he was last July, with the same insecurities. “When we met, I was fourteen years old. I’ve grown up, and it is time for you to do the same. It’s been six months, Charles. You need to stop writing me. If that makes me heartless, I don’t care. And if you wish to know the truth, the truth is that the moment you leave here, if I never see your face again, it still will not be long enough.”

Charles stared at him for a long while, unable to find a proper retort. In the end, it was Matthew who stepped in. “Charles, I believe it’s time for you to go.”

He obliged, finally turning to leave the library. As he began to walk away, however, Alastair knew that he was not finished. His heart beat a little bit faster at the thought of such a confession, and faster again when he realized who would hear it, but there was no piece of parting with Charles that he wished to regret.

“Wait,” he said. Charles froze and turned to look at him. “I know it’s unlikely that you have it in the cold depths of your soul to care, but let the record show that I would have given you everything. I would have given you my life, all of the love and trust that I had to give, and then I would have given more. And you gave me nothing. So the next time you’re pondering my heartlessness, you ought to wonder what that means for you.”

Finally satisfied, Alastair did not wait for Charles to turn and leave again to return to his seat and pick his reading back up. He waited for a moment, but he couldn’t shake the feeling of everyone’s eyes on him. He stood once more, opening his mouth to speak, but the words were caught in his throat. Instead, he walked out of the library in silence.

Finding the nearest balcony, he attempted to steady his breath.

“Are you alright?” He heard from behind him. Thomas. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He shook his head. “I just needed some air.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

Alastair sighed. He backed up against the window and slid down to the floor of the balcony. “I know- I know that everyone sort of knew already, but… by the Angel, I feel so pathetic.”

“You’re not pathetic,” Thomas told him, sitting down beside him.

“You were right, of course you were. I was so… taken with him, back in Paris. I couldn’t see him for what he was. I was so naive, so foolish. I just- After everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been through, how did I not realize-”

Thomas put his hand on Alastair’s knee. “You wanted to see the best in him. After everything you’d seen and been through, you wanted to believe that there were still good and honest people in the world. And there are. I’m sorry that he was not one of them, but that does not make you foolish or pathetic. It makes you… kind.”

“I bet you’d never imagined describing me as such before.”

“It seems you’re full of surprises,” Thomas teased. “But that’s not true. I always saw the kindness in you, even back at school, when you did everything to keep it hidden.”

“As you can see, my ‘kindness’ has never gotten me very far.”

“You were out of practice. Following me on my reckless nighttime patrols, that was kind. More than kind. I don’t think I ever thanked you for that, for risking your life to protect mine.”

“I didn’t do it for gratitude.”

“And yet I owe you mine nonetheless.”

“I can’t go back in there, you know.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can tolerate you and your friends hating me just fine. But if any of your friends give me even an ounce of pity- well, we’ll see just where the limits of my kindness lie, won’t we?”

Thomas stood up, offering Alastair his hand. “Pity comes from those who cannot even begin to understand what you’ve experienced. For what it’s worth, I don’t think my friends will pity you. But if they do, you can ignore them. For Lucie.”

Alastair sighed and allowed Thomas to pull him to his feet. “Fine. Let’s get back to reading.”

“Speaking of reading, do you have the entirety of Shakespeare’s canon memorized, or only the lines you believe may pop up in conversation?”

“Excuse me?”

“‘For you and I are past our dancing days,’ it’s Romeo and Juliet, isn’t it? It’s the only one of his works that I got through.”

Alastair froze. “You haven’t read Hamlet?”

“I tried.”

“Othello? King Lear? Macbeth? Midsummer Night’s Dream?”

He shook his head.

“That’s impossible. And James is friends with you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Wait until my sister finds out you haven’t read Hamlet,” he warned, starting towards the library with urgency in his step.

“Wait, don’t- I just don’t like Shakespeare! What’s so wrong with that?” Thomas’ attempts at reasoning were futile, however, a welcome distraction from all of their recent sorrows finally taking hold.

Thanks for reading!! This was self indulgent af lol. I'm not to sure whether some people only wanted to be tagged in my social media AU, so if that's the case I'm sorry & please tell me!: @stxr-thxif @chaos-and-starlight @lifewouldbebetteronmars @littlx-songbxrd @dianasarrow @eugeniaslongsword @bookswitchcraftandcats @jamesherondaleofficial @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @livingformyself @anarmorofwords @foxglove-airmid @writeforjordelia @sapphic-in @thecodexsays @fortheloveofthecarstairs @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @shadowrunner2000 @thewarthatsavedmylife @fair-childd @icouldnotask @shadowhunting-hooligans @melanielocke @clarys-heosphoros @kiwichaeng @lightwoodsimp @thecrimsonsorceresss @theenchanteddreamer @adams-left-hand @yozinha-z @ipromiseiwillwrite @skirtsandsweaters @goodoldfashionednerd

[jp-hunsecker]

The only thing worse than a modernized adaptation of a Shakespeare play that retains the original dialogue, is a parody of a Shakespeare play that preserves the original temporal/geographical setting but makes the characters say things like “it’s time to make this city great again,” and features a diegetic soundtrack with covers of Roxette, Celine Dion, and Eric Carmen.

Dr. Johnson considered puns to be the lowest form of humor (and he had Shakes in particular in mind), but intentional anachronisms are by far much lower. Also, memo to the filmmakers: the Trump administration ended almost two years ago, and Romeo and Juliet premiered in 1597, so maybe choose targets that are a little more timely next time?

To be fair, Romeo was indeed dumb enough to fall for not one but two Capulet women in the play as written by the Bard; how the makers of this movie, however, could know that defies explanation, since they clearly don’t know or don care about their source material.

In Romeo and Juliet, the character of Rosaline is never seen or heard — a wise choice, assuming she was anything like she’s portrayed in this film. Moreover, she didn’t feel for Romeo the same way he felt for her. Here, though, Romeo’s infatuation is the excuse for the sort of amorous quadrangle that we have already seen a million times before.

It’s like they were going for a Taming of the Shrew sort of thing (they even allude to it), but suddenly remembered that someone had already done that long before and a lot better in 10 Things I Hate About You (which had Heath Ledger in it, a stark contrast to the low-rent Heath Ledger lookalike who plays Romeo in Rosaline).

One of the reasons 10 Things is superior to this drivel is that it never intended to take an apple and turn it into an orange; that is to say, it adapted a comedy into a comedy. It’s not fucking rocket science. With Rosaline, on the other hand, it’s like they thought the original ending was too depressing and just went from there, dumbing the material down from the bottom up.

Again, if the filmmakers had more than a passing knowledge of Shakespeare, they would realize that there’s no need to ‘lighten’ his work. The man wrote 17 comedies, so it’s safe to say he had a healthy sense of humor; so healthy, indeed, that he found room for it even in his tragedies. You see, Shakespeare was no hack; he knew tension must be relieved, and therefore included comic characters even in his more serious stuff; for example, the gravedigger in Hamlet, the porter in Macbeth, and yes, Mercutio in Romeo and Juliet.

Now, I’m not saying they should have made Rosaline a comedy revolving around Mercutio instead (expanding a minor Shakespearean character is generally a bad idea; Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead, anybody?); I am saying, though, that they should have never made a comedy at all — although, if you think about it, whatever this movie is, a comedy it’s not.

Consider this: Rosaline’s miseducation of Juliet includes having her read from an “erotic book.” Juliet claims “they don’t teach you that in finishing school” (we have no idea what she’s referring too because the film has zero imagination). Rosaline replies “wait till you get to page 74.” Page 74? What about page 69? It would still be crass, but at least it wouldn’t be random. You know you’re in deep shit when your movie makes the audience yearn for the comedic sensibility of Robin Hood: Men in Tights.

Rosaline movie review &amp; film summary (2022) | Roger Ebert The comedy in "Rosaline" is largely due how it thrusts Shakespeare's dialogue into modernity. However, the absurdity of…www.rogerebert.com

“The comedy in “Rosaline” is largely due how it thrusts Shakespeare’s dialogue into modernity.”

What it really does is thrust modern dialogue into Shakespeare (well, as modern as lines like “make [blank] great again” can be two years into the Biden era).

“It gets old quickly when it’s the only laughable effort inserted into the script.”

Actually, the entire script is laughable, which doesn’t mean by any stretch of the imagination that it is funny.

“However, it cuts right through all the formalities of traditional Shakespeare that might not appeal to certain audiences, so it has that going for it.”

That is to say, it has been dumbed down to pander to the lowest common denominator.

Rosaline Review - IGN Intentionallyanachronistic approaches to period pieces are having a bit of a moment in 2022, what with Persuasion …www.ign.com

“The script is an inventive romp through Shakespeare’s Romeo & Juliet.”

What’s inventive about going back to the same well that has already been sucked dry a long time ago by countless filmmakers and movies before this one?

Rosaline review - Kaitlyn Dever shines in comedic spin on Romeo & Juliet imply by invoking the name Juliet, Hulu's Rosaline, a comic retelling of Shakespeare from the perspective of Juliet's…www.theguardian.com

“Rosaline … understands what makes a good adaptation: a sense of humor at least on par with if not exceeding the original …”

Sure, because Romeo and Juliet was such a laugh riot to begin with.

Rosaline movie review: Slight and overfamiliar Romeo and Juliet remix Kaitlyn Dever is Romeo's jilted ex GF in Rosaline, a sweet but slight new comedy. To Eliza Janssen, the contemporary…www.flicks.co.uk

“ … at this point, tales of rebellious, independent princesses are the standard, not its subversion. The anachronistic feminism of Rosaline doesn’t just ring false — it can barely be heard at this point, over the riot grrl din of past remixed Shakespeare heroines in 10 Things I Hate About You and She’s The Man.”

“ … Rosaline’s obvious love interest Dario (Oscar Isaac-lookalike Sean Teale) is your garden variety YA eye candy.”

Not to mention the Heath Ledger lookalike who plays Romeo.

Rosaline Review: Kaitlyn Dever Is A Winning Lead In Flawed Revisionist Tale Retellings of Shakespeare's plays are as classic as the famed playwright himself. Whether they be a faithful adaptation…screenrant.com

“Retellings of Shakespeare’s plays are as classic as the famed playwright himself … it feels there is virtually no shortage to what filmmakers can do with those iconic stories.”

Watching this movie, you’d swear they’ve officially run out of ideas.

“ … there is initially something jarring about Dever’s Rosaline …”

If by “initially” you mean “all the way until the closing credits,” then I agree 100%.

“While Dever and Teale have genuine sparks, their courtship is a storyline that isn’t entirely necessary.”

Then again, the whole movie is unnecessary.

Rosaline Review: A Hilarious Retelling of Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet Spoiler Warning is a smart and refreshing modern twist on an iconic Shakespeare tale. The film is a unique and easily…movieweb.com

“Rosaline … makes the story of Romeo and Juliet so much more fun.”

That’s like saying a Passion Play could use more fart jokes.

“Rosaline is funny, dramatic, and relatable that uses 21st-century language and personalities while borrowing elements from the fictionalized story.”

That you personally need to be talked down to as if you were a small child or a Labrador doesn’t make the movie “relatable.”

“Rosaline places the most forgotten Shakespeare characters up front and center.”

Based on the evidence of this film, they should have stayed forgotten.

Rosaline offers an audacious alternative to Romeo And Juliet If the name Rosaline rings a bell, it's because she's the mentioned-but-never-seen girlfriend Romeo was dating right…www.avclub.com

“Adapting screenwriters Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber have made shrewd, intelligent changes from Rebecca Serle’s book When You Were Mine, on which the film is based, changing the setting and time period from modern day Southern California to Renaissance era Italy. This shift not only provides the proper basis for many of the jokes and comedic hijinks, it smartly disposes of modern trappings, adding a timelessness to the picture and justifying stoner Steve the Courier’s (­­­Nico Hiraga) blessed existence.”

First of all, the only thing for which that shift provides a basis is lazy anachronistic gags, and second, were idiot potheads that common in Renaissance Italy? Because otherwise I don’t see how that character’s existence could ever be justified.

“Maine and her cadre of craftspeople gift her follow-up to Yes, God, Yes … ”

From the truly unique Yes, God, Yes to a movie based on a book based on a play. Talk about diminishing returns.

Rosaline Movie Review: A Fresh Take on a Classic Story Rosaline is a hilariously fun twist on a classic story. Things change where you least expect them to, making this an…mamasgeeky.com

“Everyone knows the story of Romeo of Juliet, but they don’t know this version of it.”

If only there was a way to unknow it.

“There was no need to propel this into modern times and we are thankful they did not go that route.”

Aren’t you forgetting a little something? If 95% of the dialogue can be said to be a little, that is. Oh, but you haven’t forgotten, have you?

“We are also very happy that we didn’t have to listen to the actors speak in Shakespearean for ninety minutes.”

I’ll bet you are.

Rosaline review: Kaitlyn Dever elevates new Hulu comedy | Digital Trends Director Karen Maine's new comedy, , works overtime to find a new perspective in one of the most well-known stories of…www.digitaltrends.com

“Anyone who’s ever caught themselves rolling their eyes at the film’s iconic pair of young lovers will, in particular, likely delight in the ways Rosaline both plays up and pokes holes at their short-lived love story. (That’s especially true of an unexpected homage to The Graduate that Maine, Neustadter, and Weber throw out at exactly the right moment.)”

About that. The movie imagines that Romeo and Juliet would be rather dull together if left to their own devices, but it’s the filmmakers who are giving them a quote-unquote happy ending that no one ever asked for, so whose story is really the one with holes in it?

'Rosaline' Review: Kaitlyn Dever Grounds Fanciful Spin on 'Romeo and Juliet' Before Romeo fell for Juliet, he lusted after her cousin, Rosaline. He exalted her beauty to his friends ("The…www.hollywoodreporter.com

“Directed by Karen Maine, Rosaline recasts the story of its eponymous character as a digestible coming-of-age narrative.”

If by “digestible” you mean that it’s destined to become a turd whose place is in the crapper, you’re absolutely right.

Rosaline Rosaline reimagines Romeo and Juliet's story, offering redemptive thoughts on love as well as problems families should…www.pluggedin.com

“God’s name is abused 13 times, and Christ’s name is abused once.”

That, however, is nothing compared to how Shakespeare’s good name is abused.

ROSALINE: 3 STARS. "a high school story of romance and empowerment in a corset." "Rosaline," a new romantic comedy based on "Romeo and Juliet," alters the dynamics of William Shakespeare's play by…richardcrouse.ca

““Rosaline” is no “Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead.” Tom Stoppard’s absurdist, existential tragicomic “Hamlet” riff examines the mystery of life.”

But it is absurd in the sense that its very existence is a mystery (in other words, why did they have to go and make this fucking piece of shit movie?).

REVIEW: Rosaline Turns a Shakespeare Classic Into a Forgettable Rom-Com The works of William Shakespeare have remained popular and relevant for more than 400 years, but it seems unlikely that…www.cbr.com

“ … the period setting amounts to little more than dress-up, especially given the modernized dialogue and references.”

“ … it undercuts the impact of the source material — and not in a fun or subversive way. Rosaline turns one of the great works of world literature into an unremarkable teen movie.”

'Rosaline' provides snarky, modern take on 'Romeo and Juliet' If you are looking for another remake of the Shakespeare classic "Romeo and Juliet" fully equipped with Early Modern…www.oswegonian.com

“ … a cast of characters that range in age, race and sexuality is increasingly demanded by audiences, rightfully so.”

Every time I read something like the above I’m reminded of Fran Leibowitz, who once claimed, and I’m paraphrasing here, that art isn’t, or at least it shouldn’t be, a democracy, but rather an intellectual aristocracy. And rightfully so.

Romeo and Juliet Riff Rosaline Has Star-Crossed Intentions and Execution Between 10 Things I Hate About You, the Twelfth Night-inspired She's the Man and 2013's quirky zombie comedy Warm…www.pastemagazine.com

“[Rosaline is] a misguided work that highlights the insincerities that have emerged in Hollywood’s recent charge towards “inclusion” and “diversity.””

[socialanxiety-queen]

Queen-O-Ween Day 1: Halloween Lovers of 1954 • Fandom: Sam and a Colby|Solby Ship|ABO themes|and Gore in the one shot below • DO NOT STEAL MY WORK 💋

Every October the legend of the killer lovers of 1954 is spread around each home, warning teenagers to stay home.

Kat sat at the campfire with a few other teens gathered around for warmth. They were having fun on this cold Halloween night as a group of typically loud teens despite their parents warnings. Urban legends fell on deaf ears in this town, people didn’t care anymore. What was the point to? Legends were only stories parents told to their children to keep them from roaming the woods after nightfall.

“Story time!” Kat announced heartily as she tossed an empty beer can into the garbage bag they had brought along for such an occasion. Amber snickered and sat up from her lounged position, fully ready for this one, but Tara was picking at her skirt nervously. She loved Halloween but these woods freaked her out, they were cursed and everyone knew it. It wasn’t as if she’d ever truly seen anything but… Well, the rumors were enough.

“The Lovers of 1954,” Kat drew out with a creepy tone to her voice, “It all starts with the omega, Sam Golbach, who was the mayors son, only son in fact.”

“Damn,” Amber huffed, “Must of been terrible to present as an omega and be the only son back then.”

“Omega guys had it tough no doubt,” Kat nodded, her eyes focused on the flames, “Worst part was, his father would make him hide who he was, blockers and shit. He wasn’t about to be embarrassed by his so-called heir,” Kat rolled her eyes at that, when researching this shit it had made her pissed.

“An Alpha, Colby Brock, the ladies man here-,” Kat started.

“My grandmother said he was fine as hell,” Tara finally spoke up, probably a bit too loud, “But she said he only had eyes for one person so she never stood a chance.”

Kat nodded matter of factly, “He fell for Sam. He knew Sam was his omega but the father didn’t like that..” She threw some twigs into the fire, almost angrily.

The wind gushes around the trees, rustling the branches and leaves loudly, almost as if the forest was listening in and for a moment Tara feared it was as she looked out at into the darkness between the trees.

“He tried barring Colby from the house, demanding they never be near each other again,” Kat ran fingers through her colored hair in thought.

“Please, Colby wanted that bussy and no old ass man would stop true love,” Amber cackled as she opened up a vodka bottle and tossed the cap at least somewhat near the garbage bag. Thank fuck she hadn’t paid for new nails yet.

“Well,” Kat scrunched her face up in disgust at what her next words were to be, “The old ass man..”

“No...” Amber gasped.

“He publicly announced his son was a homosexual who needed to be sent away for treatment,” Kat’s scent soured as she spoke, “Colby knew it meant they’d torture Sam, and he decided they’d run away, get far away from this damn town.”

Tara could see something moving in the tree line, her ears zoned in on it and drowned the other two out. There weren’t any noise to indicate footsteps as far as she could hear but… There was definitely something there. What the fuck was it..?

“The dad found out about their plan, tried to shoot Colby dead, but Sam took a pocket knife and stabbed him before giving Colby room to do the same, sharing the knife between them. That continued their assault till the Mayor was a gurgling mess on the floor,” Kat shivered at the slight chill now forming around them despite the fire roaring healthily between them.

“Good for them,” Amber nodded pridefully and lifted her drink in a toast, “Fucking asshole deserved it.”

“The town didn’t care,” Kat shook her head quickly before Amber could continue her celebration, “They drug the two men out into the square and did a public execution.”

Amber narrowed her eyes and looked out over the lake where their town could be seen on the other side, all twinkling lights and glowing brightly like a ray of hope in the dark. In fact, that place held so many dark secrets it was almost ironic the sight, “Romeo and Juliet…” She sniffled, she might be the slightest bit tipsy…

“I’m not sure if they buried them together, which is why people suspect they come back every year. All those unsolved murders, they claim it’s them getting revenge on a town that killed them for something as simple as self defense,” Kat wiped Ambers tears away as she spoke softly, “They say Sam can be heard whistling his and Colby’s song, if you believe in ghosts coming back and all.”

Amber was about to answer when she noticed Tara was gone, she looked around and when a light whistling carried through the air, she froze, “Tara that’s not funny!”

Kat stood up and listened carefully, her ears peeking to hear better. But the tune was odd, old… If Tara was trying to scare them then damn it was working but…

‘You belong to me’ whistled sharply around the trees, something just a bit too old and coincidental for Tara to even know. No one knew what song was whistled deep in the night, no one stuck around long enough to find out either. When the tone of voice dropped, grew closer, Kat found herself scrambling to her feet to grab Amber.

“Wha-“

“It’s not Tara!” Kat yanked Amber down the path at their left and to the car they’d parked closer to the road.

Hand in hand, two men walked from the forest line, the melody being whistled by the blond as his other half opens and closes his pocket knife staring down at his lover. He leans down to kiss Sam, the taste of candied apples from such a time long ago… Sam holds his hand just a bit tighter, his own knife clutched in a white knuckle embrace in his free hand. The blade was dripping with fresh blood - from Tara, whose body now joined the rest. More blood to soak the grounds here, curse them all. They were robbed of their love by this god forsaken town and every year they would take back what they’re owed in blood.

“Let’s get them all Sammy,” Colby purred into his omega’s hair, “Let’s make them all pay.”

Sam smiled, his scent coating his alpha in adoration.

“Will let those other two live,” Sam spoke softly, he had heard their words and the knowing look from Colby sealed the agreement, “Let’s make the rest beg for their lives.”

Colby led his omega towards the town. The wind howled around the blood soaked couple as if trying to give a final warning to the people whose families are forever cursed in blood.

———

Note: Thank you for reading, if your interested in this story I’m going to start writing a backstory fic of the lovers and a continuation of this one on my AO3 [username is Middy] but I’ll post the chapters here if anyone is interested let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you! I’m also not hating on Tara in this it was really hard to decide who to kill.

[sangopearls]

-playing love interests

CW: NONE APPLICABLE.

💌 from @certainstatesmanwombatdean

“so this is kinda based on the "as hs classmates" hcs (10/10 btw, loved them) what if, say, reader was a theatre kid and they were trying to get the boys to joithe dept (seperately). mayhaps theres an upcoming audition for a corny romance musical? idk, i hope this isnt too vague 🙇”

i like the way you think. if you don’t mind, imma speed up the plot line a lil bit and you and the character are playing the main character and the love interest because hehehehhe awkward budding romance ;)

characters featured: zhongli, kaeya, childe, kazuha

CONTEXT: you and the character are cast as romeo and juliet (though reader is still gender neutral!) for your school’s play. the catch is, you inevitably have to do a stage kiss.

zhongli

high school au zhongli is definitely into theatre in the refined shakespeare way of that makes sense. like a play kid not a musicals kid if that makes sense

as a kid he for sure read shakespeare’s plays while everyone else was reading diary of a wimpy kid

so naturally, the usually-backstage director’s-right-hand-man member of your theatre department hears about the play, tries his hand at reading for romeo, and gets the part. after all, he has that timeless charm that makes him the perfect romeo to star alongside your juliet.

he can read emotions well so he can tell you’re struggling to retain the lines and are certainly nervous about the stage kiss. he wants to help comfort you and help you reach your fullest potential

you and zhongli are sitting in the dressing room aside from the other cast members who are working with the director. you both are reading lines, and you both know the scene that’s coming up.

“zhongli, i need to be honest with you,” you murmur. surely you can confess your worries to him. after all, the young man has a certain counselor-like energy to him.

“what is wrong, [Y/N]?” zhongli asks, stepping out of character. (although you must note the real zhongli truly has all the charm and sophistication of the timelessly famous romeo montague…)

“i… um… i’m a bit worried about the stage kiss,” you admit, “i’ve never kissed anyone, much less someone i have no romantic history with. i just felt like you had a right to know. i don’t want you feeling as if it’s personal.”

zhongli closes his eyes and nods. “i see your predicament,” he replies calmly. you relax. “if you don’t mind this proposal, how about this weekend, we get some dinner, run lines, and if you’re comfortable, try the kiss out. perhaps the romantic-like atmosphere will ease you and make you feel more at peace with our roles. but if you wouldn’t be interested, you have every right to refuse.”

kaeya

kaeya is That Theatre Kid who’s scored the male lead ever since his first show so nobody was surprised when the smooth-talking, born-to-be-a-star got the role of romeo.

after finding out you’d be his juliet, however, he definitely started laying it on thick. talk about the perfect opportunity to flirt with the most beautiful costar of his!

“kaeya, the director said we have to run the lines from act one,” you state, approaching kaeya with your script in hand.

“hm? i thought we were supposed start rehearsing the final scene,” kaeya asked, arching a brow.

“nope, you heard them loud and clear,” you reply, “besides, if i could avoid that scene, i’d like to. if you don’t mind, that is.”

“oh, i see,” he chortles, “you’re nervous about the kiss, aren’t you?”

you can feel yourself run hot with embarrassment. “it’s just—“

“no, no, i see,” he laughs with a smirk, “anxious to kiss me. afraid i won’t live up to the hype, darling? i can assure you everyone i’ve ever kissed always comes crawling back.”

“little full of yourself, aren’t you?” you shoot back, still shivering in your own sheepishness, “it’s not that, i’ve just never kissed anyone.”

“well, then, what a treat! i get to have one of your firsts,” kaeya slurs, “how about this- after school, let’s meet up at the park a few blocks from here, run lines, and we can try our hands at the kiss. i already bet you’ll be begging for more. whaddya say, juliet?”

(after writing that last one, i feel like kaeya would kin prince naveen from princess and the frog agsgsccabsbs they’re both hot tho)

childe

this man was thinking about the stage kiss the moment he saw the cast list and he will NOT stop teasing you about it

he’ll approach you from behind and throw his arms over your shoulders and press a kiss to your head “to build up the hype for the real deal”, earning him a shove every time.

“childe, we need to talk,” you say, catching him before he leaves from rehearsal.

“well, hey there, juliet!” he chuckles, “you caught me just before i got in my car. lucky you, huh? what’s up?”

you feel yourself constrict your body language. “i need to be honest with you,” you choke out. this clearly causes the ginger man to become perplexed, “i’ve been avoiding the kiss scenes in the play because, to be real here, i’ve never kissed anyone. i’m nervous. dumb, huh?”

childe shakes his head with a laugh. “no, not dumb,” he assures you. you relax a little at the sight of his smile. it’s one of his rarer tender moments. “kissing isn’t as big and scary as you think. i know it can feel like that, though, so i’m sorry for teasing you all this time.”

“i’m glad you understand,” you sigh in relief.

“not to sound like a pervert, but would it help if i kissed you right now? just to get one out of the way where we’re childe and [Y/N], not romeo and juliet?” he asks gently, “everyone’s gone but us. you don’t have a whole audience watching. and i promise i don’t bite.”

kazuha

he’s the sweet and calm theatre kid who’s usually cast into ensemble but managed to be such a perfect romeo in his audition that he had to get the part

he’s super laidback and devoted to delivering his best performance possible. unlike childe and kaeya, the kiss isn’t at the forefront of his mind (but it certainly isn’t forgotten ;))

“and with a kiss, i die,” kazuha recites, fully leaned into his character.

“um, cut, cut,” you mutter, sitting up. kazuha is visibly confused.

“is something wrong?” he asks, a genuine concern in his voice.

“i’m… just nervous for the kiss,” you confess, averting your eyes, “maybe we can just save it for the actual performance.”

“oh, i see,” he nods. he’s wonderfully understanding. “is this your first kiss? if so, i see why you’re uneasy.”

“ah… yeah…” you mutter, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. behind his gaze, there’s nothing but kindness. “bit embarrassing, huh?”

“no, not in the slightest,” he shakes his head, “you have every right to be nervous. especially because it’s a stage kiss, not a romantic one.”

“thanks for understanding,” you sigh.

“i want to make sure this show is as easy as possible on your conscience,” kazuha says, “if you ever want to ease into it and give it a try, please ask me. i’d be honored to be your first, and if you just want to wait until fate forces our hands, i would be okay with that, too. i want to make sure you feel as safe and comfortable as possible, [Y/N].”