#you cannot stop me from dressing him like a romance novel love interest

[solaire-and-magia]

Hello tumblr it's me again, I bring an older gpose. Because I like putting him in nice clothing. I also like making him look happy because he DESERVES to be happy, dangit.

[litgwritersroom]

The Hating Game

S2 | Lucas/MC | 5600+ words | @i-boop-you

Enemies-to-lovers office romance based off of the novel of the same name.

Birthday fic for @tammyisobsessedwith. Trope: Office Romance. Character: Lucas.

“I have a theory. Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them.” - Sally Thorne, The Hating Game

Tick-tock, tick-tock. The clock on the office wall continues its ever-present drilling, reminding me time is ticking and I have better things to do than play this little game with my biggest rival. For the life of me, I cannot stop playing.

I stare ahead where his desk is opposite mine, and ignore what I’m paid to do for something much more gratifying. Winning against Lucas Koh.

It’s the mirror game today. I do one thing, he does the same, then he does something else, and I copy it, and on and on it goes until one of us gives in and the other wins. I keep a score of our victories and losses, and he’s one ahead of me, so I cannot afford to let him win again.

Lucas runs his thumb over his bottom lip, a subtle wet line appearing on both, his eyes locked on mine. Not to be outdone, I do the same, my lips pouting at the same time as his, copying the heavy look of superiority in his stare.

He’s wearing the light blue shirt today; paired with the yellow striped tie that’s the flashiest thing he likes to dress in while at work. Always the same, always the same, is dear Lucas Koh. Every two weeks the wardrobe cycle continues, down to a pat. Nothing new.

The main office door opens and out comes our boss, ready to unconsciously decide the winner of today’s game.

“Doctor Lucas,” Jasper says, using his needling nickname for Lucas and gratifying me not once but twice by doing so, “Take these files to Erikah and get me ten copies.”

He dumps a hefty stack on Lucas’ desk. Once his hands are free, he stands with them on his hips, pushing back his jacket to help define his physique. Jasper isn’t a bad looking man, in fact he’s incredibly handsome, but just like Lucas, there’s one vital flaw to him that’s really hard to look past.

“Honey,” he calls out my name, eyes sweeping down over my legs through the glass desk, “you’re looking lovely today, no wonder Lucas has been slacking all afternoon. I should move your desk into my office instead of out here, and maybe some work would get done.”

He’s a total ass.

I laugh insipidly, just how he likes, and flick my hair over my shoulder. “And if I’m in your office all day, sir, how do you expect me to get any work done?”

Jasper smiles and bites down on his bottom lip. He always stands tall, but when it comes to standing around me, he does so with his hips thrust forwards, really emphasising the pea under the mattress that is his cock in his trousers.

I have no interest in sleeping with our boss, but I’ve learnt that it fucking drives Lucas mad when I flirt back with Jasper. Even now, the files Jasper gave him already in hand, and he’s still here, watching on with a surly furrow of his brow.

Sitting on my desk, leaning down towards me, “I’m sure I’d find a way to keep you busy, Honey.”

My fake laugh comes out, the really annoying one that Lucas hates. I flash a look at him and catch him frowning deeply. Jasper spots me looking on and turns suddenly to see Lucas still there. “Doctor Lucas, do you need further instructions?” He asks.

“No, sir, of course not,” Lucas says, a fake smile raising the corners of his mouth. “I’ve got some other things to copy, so I’m just gathering them up.”

“Try not to work too hard, son.”

With that, Jasper gets up from my desk and heads back to his office.

“Need a hand with the heavy load, Lucas?” I ask. “If the task is too much for you.”

“Of course not, Honeybuns, I would never think to trouble you with actual work,” he bites back. He has no extra papers, only the ones from Jasper. “Besides, how else will you flirt with the boss if you leave with me?”

I wave him off, delighting at how infuriated it’ll make him. “Oh, we’re hardly flirting. Keep it up and I’ll start thinking you're jealous or something.”

Already I’m back at my computer, setting out on catching up with what I can while he strops off and dismissing him and the conversation all in one go.

Lucas is on his way to the lift, talking back to me as he goes. “And if you keep it up, I’ll start thinking you’re trying to make me jealous … or something.” He repeats my last line like a ‘gotcha’, and I have time only to glare at him before he disappears into the lift.

Since he got the last word, when I check off the tally I keep of our score, the line goes hard through to the next page. I’m still glaring at those closed doors long after he’s gone.

By the time our great Lucas makes his return, there’s scarcely time enough for us to get in another jab or two before the clock tells us it’s hometime. We both wait at our desks until Jasper leaves first. Like usual, he’s on the phone and barely gives us a wave before he heads down to his Jaguar.

That leaves Lucas and I alone.

“Are you not getting a lift back with your boyfriend?” Lucas asks, beginning the ritual bickering that accompanies our daily trek downstairs.

“Don’t you obsessively take note of everything in my life enough to know that I don’t have one?”

“I meant the boss. Don’t worry, you don’t have to hide it from me. I swear it’ll be our little secret.”

“I’m afraid not, Lucas. Looks like you’ve still only got one little secret to keep.”

“Let me guess, that’s a penis joke? Way to keep it classy, Honeybuns.”

“Well, if the shoe fits, Doctor Lucas, and let's face it, the shoe in question isn’t very big, is it?”

“Why are you so concerned about my dick size, Honeybuns? Do you think about it a lot? Does it keep you up at night?”

“The only way it can keep a girl up at night.”

We’re in the lift, bags and jackets in hand, standing face-to-face. Despite the space within the lift, we’re close. The tips of my toes are placed in line with his, my chest near enough to bump into his at the slightest jutter and jilt of the mechanical box we’re in.

“So you admit it?” He smirks. “Thinking about me keeps you up at night?”

I’m furious at myself for blushing, but I can’t hide my face and show weakness. My lips purse, I reply, “With my head over the toilet.”

“After drowning your sorrows all night, I’ll bet.”

“At the thought of having to spend day after day with you.”

“More like at the thought of not getting to spend night after night with me.”

The doors are just about to close, but a hand snaps in, blocking it from going all the way. The doors open again and the Head of HR ushers herself in, but at the sight of me and Lucas toe-to-toe, she lets out an ungodly groan, rolling her eyes.

“God, I thought you were both gone,” Marisol says, doing nothing to disguise her strained voice. “I thought it would be safe to get in the lift.”

“Come now, Marisol,” Lucas says, putting on his hoity toity accent just because he knows it’ll annoy me more. He’s good at playing these wind up games; he always knows how to push my buttons, and more infuriatingly, he knows how to do it where it doesn’t look like that’s what he’s doing. So I look crazy. “Honeybuns and I aren’t that bad. Mummy and Daddy just have disagreements from time to time, nothing out of the ordinary.”

“You two are the worst part of my job,” Marisol replies, deadpan.

As soon as the doors open to the car park, Marisol gets straight out of sight. My spot is allocated next to Lucas’, so we’re still heading the same way. We’re playing a new game as we stride across the stoney ground. This part of the day, the only two games are, ‘No, After You’ where we each let the other in front, making them paranoid we’re going to do something childish like pants one another or shove them over the ledge to the ground floor and kill them.

Today the game is ‘Race You’. We’re both speeding, but trying to make it look like we’re not. We’re a pace beneath jogging and fooling no one.

“Careful there, Honeybuns, after a full day of doing nothing, I don’t want you to strain yourself,” Lucas jabs as he tries to overtake me.

I speed up, elbowing him back. “I suppose it makes no difference to you since you’re already going home smelling musty.”

“I’d hardly go that far, but I can understand that even the slightest break of a sweat would be foreign enough to you that you think it’s too much.”

“I’m just glad there’s not a poor, unfortunate girl waiting in your quiet, dull flat for you to stink the place up the moment you step in the door.”

“Give it thirty minutes and there’s going to be a poor, unfortunate girl in your quiet and dull flat. Only this one’s sadder because she knows not to expect any company.”

God, ouch. Fuck him. So what if there hasn’t been another human being in my flat besides my landlord doing his annual check up in the last few weeks. Or months.

Yeah, no, he’s got a point, that is sadder. Fuck him harder for being right.

“Oh, like you’ve got a booming social life, Mr Spends Every Waking Moment Not at Work at the Gym,” I cut back at him.

“Hey, if you want pointers, all you have to do is ask, Honeybuns.”

That’s when he knocks me with his hip. We’re right at our cars now, and I go knocking into my orange Fiat 500. I can only throw him a glare, mouth hanging open in a sneer while he smirks and climbs on his dumb motorbike.

Because he’s not sexy enough, apparently.

Just as I’m thinking about riding it (the bike, not Lucas … I swear), I get a wisp of determination through me. Wasting no more time, I throw myself in my car, lobbing my purse and coat into the passenger seat over the books I keep forgetting to take into the flat. Before Lucas can rev up his engine, I’ve got the keys in the ignition. I spin out of the parking spot without buckling in my belt yet. I do it absently as I drive to the exit.

When I pull up three cars behind Marisol, the obnoxious roar of a motorbike pulls up next to my window. Lucas’ ass sits perfectly in my line of sight. God, but he’s got a better ass than most girls I know.

One more of life’s great injustices.

My eyes flicker up, just in time to catch Lucas catching me ogling his ass. Aw, fuck. I quickly spin to face ahead, eyes determinedly on the standstill traffic, hands gripping hard on the steering wheel. Lucas revs his engine, trying to get my attention again, to rile me up some more.

I ignore him. Or I want to. But it’s so satisfying getting a win, I can’t resist for too long. I roll down my window, giving him the cutest evils I can. It’s his cue to flip up the lid of his helmet. God, he shouldn’t be so gorgeous even in that stupid thing, but he is. It’s like he was made to be physically flawless.

Still, you can’t have everything. Hence his total asshole-ary.

“We’re going to be stuck here for another five minutes at least,” he grins. “So feel free to enjoy the view while you can. I’d hate to think that you're too embarrassed to enjoy something fantastic, but come to think of it … that’s pretty on-brand for you, right?”

I screw my face up, making a disgusted noise. “First off, your ass is not that great -” He throws me a disbelieving look - “and secondly, I never let embarrassment rule me, so there.”

Oh, that was lame. That was so very lame, lame, lame.

Despite already turning away, I turn back sharp to add, “... And thirdly!” My finger is up, poised to emphasise a point that never comes. I sit there, mouth open, head empty.

A car leaves, and so begins the slow plod forwards. I use this as an excuse to drop the conversation, but Lucas halts next to me again, and leans down on his handlebars, resting his head over his arms, so that he can look properly into my car.

“You were saying?” He asks, shit-eating grin as present as ever.

I pause just for a moment, pretending I’m relishing my awesome comeback before firing off the blank that is, “... I was just going to reiterate again that your ass is not that great. Pretty mid, if you ask me.”

“Well, in your humble opinion, I’m going to take that as a ten out of ten.” He sits back up, revs his bike once more, pauses only so I can hear him add, “Your own is probably a nine point five. See you tomorrow, Honeybuns. I promise I’ll work you harder than usual just so you can keep up with me.”

There’s only the crude and obnoxious sound of his bike as he shoots off to the front of the queue, followed by the nauseating smell of his exhaust.

How annoying that he gets to cheat to win the ‘Race You’ game.

He was spot on with how long it took me to get home. There was no racing for me even when I managed to finally pull out of the building’s parking garage. There was never a chance for me to rush when it came to rush hour.

Still, I got home in the end, so that’s always something. Into the quiet flat goes the poor, unfortunate girl. Not a dull flat, though. I literally have stuff everywhere, bursting from my shelves, stacks of books with nowhere to home them, ornaments of every calibre, and pictures hanging on every wall. This flat is more alive than me as I immediately grab my laptop and go lie on my sofa with it the moment my coat and shoes are off.

Time to write some fanfiction. Well, first I have to answer my comments. Then, I can write. Set up my playlist, reread where I last was, set out a goal of a thousand words, and here I go, delving into the world I created for Chris Evans’ Captain America.

After a phone call to my parents, a dinner of leftover butter chicken heated up in the mee-cro-wav-ey, and a quick shower, I went back to writing for the night. To change things up, I got snuggled up in bed to finish up the latest chapter. The perfect place to be for writing smut before lights out.

Maybe that’s where things went wrong though. Maybe that’s where they went very, very wrong.

Was I asleep? I must have been.

Why else would Lucas Koh have been in my bedroom, in my bed.

I only noticed him at first as he slid his hand up my thigh while I lay there, dreaming of the day. I woke up to his lips pressing into the back of my shoulder, his breath hot on my neck, sending a surge of heat between my legs.

“Hey there, Honeybuns,” he said, his hushed tones singing into my ear. The tingle spread throughout the rest of my body as his delicate touch moved up my thigh, like a warm whisper on my cool skin. “It’s tomorrow. Time for me to work you so fucking hard.”

His fingers slipped under my shorts, his lips caressed my cheek, making their way to mine. His mouth was hot on my skin, opening me up instantly. His fingers brushed over my clit. I moaned into his mouth, and he panted back, the feel of his hard-on at my hip. He circled his finger over me and over me and over me and - and -

I had the vaguest idea that I was dreaming by this point, but I couldn’t allow myself to slip out of it. I couldn’t wake up before finishing. I needed Lucas to stay; I needed his mouth, I needed his fingers; I needed him.

“I knew you thought of me late at night,” he whispered, keeping me so on edge I felt like I might cry. “I think about you, too. Do you have any idea how many times I’ve dreamt about bending you over the desk to play ‘Who Can Make Who Cum First’?”

My voice shakes as I reply, “I think you’re gonna win -”

And he does. I falter at his touch, twisting in his arms as he sees a side of me I swore he never would. I want to look in his eyes as he makes me cum, I want to feel him there, I want him - I want Lucas Koh in my bed and I -

Oh fuck!

I snap awake, springing up in bed with my eyes staring out in the darkness of my empty, Lucas-Koh-less room. The words ‘what the fuck?’ repeat in my head over and over like their racing my pulsing heart.

Oh my God, did I have a wet dream about Lucas? How. Dare. He. Who does he think he is to penetrate my mind and my sleeping consciousness like this?

I’m too riled, the area between my legs too electrified, for me to sleep again. I lay there for the next hour staring at the ceiling, watching without seeing as the darkness shifts across my room, being parted away by the morning sun.

Fuck me, Lucas Koh, you are not going to get the better of me. This means all out war.

When I get to the office, I am a storm. A fire. One to be reckoned with. I blaze in there wearing the tiniest skirt I own, feeling the fringe sway just below the curve of my ass; my heels clack on the hardwood flooring, announcing my entrance. Lucas is watching from his desk, the look on his face like someone’s brought out the most tempting dessert -

Face first, I hit the floor. I swear loudly as the contents of my black leather bag go spilling across the room. I refuse to look at Lucas as I scour for them on my hands and knees, but I hear him clear his throat, his chair scraping across the ground as he goes to get up. Fuck.

“Nice try, Honeybuns,” he says. “You almost looked respectable for a minute there.”

He bends down in front of me. No amount of curtaining my hair over my face to shield me from him could hide that outrageously unfair bulge that presses down his tailored trousers. If Jasper’s was a pea in a mattress, Lucas’ was the stuffing that made it feel just right.

“Something caught your eye there?” He asks, narrowing in at me while the corner of his mouth turns up.

“Nothing of note,” I say, hauling myself onto my feet. I stand rightened, my head held high like there had been no mishaps on my part, staring him down. Or up, since he’s taller.

Lucas is still smirking smugly as he whips his hand up, holding a condom wrapper between his fingers. “Big night planned?”

I swipe at it before he can see the expiration date that’s come and gone. I use the momentum of my sweep to propel me to my desk, wiping my hair behind me in my wake.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Interpret my asking however you like, Honey.”

I glare at him as I hang my coat up, turning my head sharply in hopes of catching his eyes looking somewhere they shouldn’t be. No such luck. It’s like he knows my very next move each time. Worse still, even the thought of him looking at me lewdly makes me want to press my thighs together to block out how it really makes me feel.

He leans against his desk, arms folded over his chest, as smug as Jasper on his worst days, and cocks his head at me expectantly.

“If you must know,” I say, my mind melting as panic mode sweeps in, “I do have big plans.”

“Not with any family, I hope.”

I sit at my desk, shooting him daggers as I gracefully take my place. “Of course not.”

“So, big date?” He prods, the look on his face clear that he thinks this is bullshit.

I hunch forwards, trying to channel the aura of one of those creepy witches who give out curses in the movies in the hopes it’ll give him the heebie jeebies and he’ll back off. “What’s it to you?”

He shrugs. “Just curious. I’ve known you for a year and a half now, but I’ve never seen you go out on a date.”

“Stalker much?”

“More like you’re just really boring and predictable.”

“Oh, well, when was the last time you had a hot date?”

“How crude would it be for me to say last night with your mum?”

I screw my face up to hide the fact that I kind of want to laugh. “Extremely.”

“I actually do have a hot date tonight,” he said, tongue flicking out over his lips, reminding me of how they felt crawling across my skin last night - I mean, in my dreams. How hot and soft they were, the way they lit my skin on fire, made me feel more alive while I slept than I have in the waking world in God knows how long.

“Oh really?” I asked, incredulity masking the heaviness that’s weighted itself in my stomach. “And who’s the poor, unfortunate soul that you’ve suckered into having to spend hours of alone time with you? I want to give her a medal.”

He smirks. “Don’t forget to give yourself gold.”

Rolling my eyes, I replied back, “You still haven’t given me a name. Is this woman as imaginary as your last girlfriend?”

“Oh, she’s real, all right, and you still haven’t told me your big plans, Honeybuns. If you want to know about my night, you have to tell me about yours.”

Why is that making me hot? Why is him bossing me about, niggling me to come clean, to confess so that he can one-up me again, making me stir like some godless heathen? I mean, sure, I guess I am, but like … not for him. This shouldn’t be happening.

I can’t let one sexy dream steal my power. I have to keep fighting back. This is all a game after all. Today, it’s just ‘Would I Lie to You?’, and you can bet that I’ll lie through my teeth to win against Lucas Koh.

“Well, if you must know, and let’s face it, you’re such a creepy little stalker you’d find out anyway -” I catch him raising his brows - “yes, I also have a date.”

“Wow,” he says, in the most deadpan tone. “Thinking about me in the dead of night must really be getting the better of you if you need to get all dressed up like this and go on a date.”

We lock eyes. I feel like I’ve flatlined.

“Wha…” he begins, confused, before his eyes widen and his jaw drops. “Oh. Is that what all of this is about? The short skirt, the date, the condom?” He smugly narrows his eyes at me as I do my best not to go red. “Did you have a sex dream about me last night?”

“No,” I say, but as it slips from my lips I can feel my cheeks burning. “I just … I really have a date.”

His brows knit together. And thus begins the rapid fire questions. “Where are you going?”

“The Beach Hut.”

“What time?”

“6.30.”

“Drinks or food?”

“Drinks.”

“Favourite drink?”

“Violet Man.”

“You like it spicy?”

“I like it spicy.”

“Who’s you date?”

My mouth opens. Nothing comes out. I sound like I’m being lightly strangled as I choke out the words, “None of your business.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shrugs, finally getting his ass up off of his glass desk. He strides around it to get to his seat. “My date’s at 6.30 at the Beach Hut, too. So, I guess I’ll see you there.”

Now it’s time for me to narrow my eyes at him. Bastard.

During the morning, we play the Quiet Game. Neither of us talk until lunch; our conversation remains told through glares, pointed note-taking and typing, and slight change in our expressions; a tilt of the head, a sharp look in the eye, a curl of the lip.

Lunch is ‘Let’s Order Out’ where we go back and forth on picking more inane take-aways that the other is going to hate until we just get our usual Deli salad and sandwich. I paid for it today, meaning Lucas will pay next time.

After lunch, ‘The Mirror Game’ is back in swing. He picks up a pen, as do I. When I swivel in my seat to get a file, I hear the wheels of his chair turning, too. On and on it goes, game after game, bringing me closer and closer to the point that I’m dreading: the end of the working day.

We don’t get out until 5.30 or 5.45 usually, so I have time to gather myself before the supposed date. I spend a ridiculous amount of time holed up in the bathroom to buy myself time, but when I come out, Lucas is still at his desk. He looks like he’s waiting for me.

“Do you need a ride?” He asks.

I had to drop my old girl off for her MOT this morning, which wasn’t an issue since I’d just need to go home and not anywhere else after work. Oh how the turn tables.

“No need,” I say, grabbing my jacket. “I’m just going to walk. I have time.”

“Did you bring an umbrella? It’s pouring out there.”

The rain had been lashing it down on the floor length windows all afternoon, dousing out the sun and putting a dreary spin on what was already a pretty dour day.

“You drive a motorbike,” I said. “I can’t imagine how I could get wetter than riding that thing while clinging to you.”

He raises a brow. “I’ve got an idea or two.”

“You know what I mean.”

He walks up next to me and I fall into step beside him, and together we head to the lift for one ride down. “Of course I do,” he grins, “and I actually did the smart thing and looked at the weather forecast this morning, so I knew it’d be raining. That’s why I brought my car.”

“Won’t your date be pissed to see you showing up with another girl?”

“I don’t think she’ll mind since it’s you.”

“Oh, she knows me, does she? What, does she work with us or something?”

His gaze is hot on me. “...Yeah, you can say that.”

He’s lying, I know it. There is no girl. He’s just messing with me. My game plan to get a text from my mum about an emergency is no longer needed, not when I can show him up for trying to show me up.

“Is she pretty?” I ask.

He replies, “Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

“Then how did she get suckered into a date with you?”

“She lost a game.”

“What kind of game?”

“Her favourite kind.”

Again, we’re standing inches apart. His feet are slotted in-between my own, and I’m so close to being as up close as I can be. He’s sprayed fresh aftershave on, and his breath smells like mint.

“Do you like to play games with a lot of different girls?”

His brown eyes sparkled as he shook his head, but not fast enough for me not to notice the galaxies of colour that shaped around his irises. “No. Just one.”

I can feel myself leaning towards him, willing myself to give in and close this small gap.

“Lucas,” I say, my lashes fluttering of their own will, “who are you taking on a date?”

All at once, my back is to the hand railing before I’m suddenly off my feet, my ass perched on top of it, positioning me so my legs wrap around his. He’s hunched forwards, one hand on the railing by my side, the other on the curve of my hip.

I’m gathering my thoughts to this new position when Lucas’ lips are on mine like I’m dreaming. As much as I will myself to wake up, nothing changes, we are still kissing, the heat and passion scaling along with time.

He holds me steady, pushing up in between my legs, making me want to clench my thighs shut at the rush he’s creating. His tongue finds its way in my mouth as he softly opens me up, trying to teach me how to play a new game called ‘Battling for Dominance’.

My toes curl in my shoes as I press him in, closer being not close enough. Lucas Koh is kissing me and it’s the most alive I’ve felt in a long time.

The doors draw open, the heavy pinging noise of the lift bringing us to our senses. Our kiss breaks and in the second it takes him to begin helping me down again, all my pent up feelings melt together making me dizzy.

Lucas offers me his hand. I take it, not saying anything if he’s not going to say anything. Neither one of us lets go of the other, not until we get to the passenger side door of Lucas’ car. My mind’s too much of a pool of sticky candle wax to even think up a playful jarb about his car.

Lucas opens the door for me, making my heart flutter again. As I sit on his leather seat, I have a moment alone within his car to think as he makes his way around to the driver’s side.

Lucas Koh kissed me. I kissed Lucas Koh. Right now, we’re on our way to a restaurant to fake dates. And he kissed me. And I’m really horny about it.

After buckling himself in, Lucas half turns to me and asks, “All set?”

“Are you taking me home?”

“No,” he says, voice hard. “We’ve got dates we better not stand up.”

I raise my brow. “Really?”

“Yeah, at the Beach Hut,” he insists. Already, he is pulling out of his space. Luckily we took long enough that we’re one of the last to leave the car garage, so there’s not as much waiting around. “They’ve got a table of two waiting for me, Honeybuns. It’d be rude of me to not show up after they’ve held it all day.”

My stomach squirms as doubt takes hold of me. Does he really have a date? I’ve always lamented how unfair it is that he’s so good looking. He doesn’t get to be devilishly handsome without being free of sin, though. Is his personality as off putting to others? Is there not a whole bunch of groupies ready to climb him while I’ve been playing dumb games?

We park close by, and Lucas gets out of the car first with an umbrella. He holds the door open for me, the umbrella up already to shield me from the rain. As we walk, his arm is around me, holding me close, so tight into him.

If I were the girl waiting for him and I saw him coming in like this with me, I would be beside myself with anger. There’s no way I would stay … so in the off chance there is some hapless beauty sitting waiting at a table for two under the name Koh, I shuffle in closer to Lucas.

“Hi there, good evening,” the host says as we enter. “Table for two?”

“Yes, I phoned and reserved a table earlier,” Lucas states. “Under the name of Koh.”

“Ah, yes, you wanted the small table in the window, right this way, Sir.”

Lucas takes my hand before I can peel away awkwardly in the off chance there is someone waiting. My heart does a somersault in my chest and I lock my fingers in with his.

The table is more secluded than those around it. Being by the window means it’s in a dark corner, the weather outside making it cosy.

“Can I get you a drink while you both get settled?” The host asks while Lucas busies himself taking off my coat.

Every time he touches me, it makes me realise how starved I was, and how happy I am that I waited for him. His small touches, the brushes of his hands down my arms, holding my waist, the ghost of his kiss on my lips, he feels like a feast after I’d been starving all day. I want to devour all of him.

“Two Violet Mans to begin with, please,” Lucas tells the host, waving away the cocktail menus. As they bid themself away, Lucas turns to me and motions for me to sit. “I told you I had a date with the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen. I don’t know what to call this game, but I feel like I’ve won.”

Funny thing is, I was going to say the same thing, too. Checkmate, and all that.

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Unlucky in Love

masterlist

Gif credit to @ogledalo-moje-duse​

Summary: Spencer is unlucky in love - until he isn’t.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, some suggestive content

Word Count: 3.4k

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love.

           It wasn’t for lack of trying. In his early twenties, Spencer often caught himself fantasizing about being on the receiving end of some great storybook romance straight out of one of the classic novels on his bookshelf. On the rare occurrence where his mind was able to slow down long enough, Spencer would daydream about what his future partner would be like. Would they share his fondness for the written word, or his penchant for foreign cinema? Would they find his tendency to go off on tangents endearing and his less than fashionable style of dress charming? Spencer liked to think so, but the likelihood of finding someone who could accept him despite all of his quirks seemed low.

           But still he hoped, even though he knew hope was a dangerous thing. Hope gave life to the possibility of disappointment – and if there was one thing Spencer did not need more of, it was that.

           Spencer Reid was in love with the idea of love – obsessed with the idea of his soul intertwining with someone else’s. But with his thirtieth birthday quickly approaching and absolutely no prospective love interests in sight, Spencer was feeling more than a little disheartened. It certainly didn’t help that everywhere he turned, love was running rampant. Hotch had Beth, Penelope had Kevin, Jennifer had Will, and Morgan had… any number of possible partners. Emily and Rossi were both unattached, but happily so in a way that Spencer just couldn’t quite manage.

           It wasn’t that he didn’t like seeing the people around him happy – it was just that he couldn’t help but wonder when he’d finally get his chance at love.

           A month before Spencer’s thirtieth birthday, everything changes.

           When a member of Garcia’s victims’ support group goes missing, it’s all hands on deck at the BAU. It’s not that they’d give any less than one hundred percent on any other given day, but as with any case that hits close to home, everyone on the team is in a frenzy trying to put the pieces together. The thing that makes this case different is the fact that people from other departments are quick to lend a hand. It comes as no surprise to Spencer – Penelope is a social butterfly by nature. She made it her business to know and befriend everyone in the building. Her sunny disposition is hard not to love, and her current distress had garnered the support of more than a few non-team members.

           By the time the case wraps up, the bullpen is much busier and, much to Spencer’s chagrin, much louder than usual. The steady influx of people has Spencer’s head spinning and he can’t seem to focus on the papers sitting in front of him. What should take him thirty seconds to read has almost taken twenty minutes, and at this point the words on the paper are all running together. Spencer knows that it doesn’t help that he’s running on less than three hours of sleep, as evidenced by the frequency of his yawns. Worse even is the fact that his coffee cup is empty and no, he thinks, that simply will not do. With a sigh Spencer pushes away from his desk, bones creaking as he stands.

           With his coffee cup in hand, Spencer shuffles to the breakroom. He goes through the motions of preparing his drink, lazily stirring in the mountain of sugar before turning to leave.

           Spencer supposes that if it weren’t for the fact that he was horribly sleep deprived, he would’ve seen you walking down the hallway. But alas, Spencer’s alertness had been compromised by poor sleeping habits, and he isn’t aware of your presence until his body is colliding with yours and his hot coffee is dripping down the front of your blouse.

           “Ouch,” you whimper, and Spencer is immediately overwhelmed with guilt.

           “O-Oh my God, I am so sorry,” he splutters. Without waiting for a response, Spencer’s rushing into the break room and procuring a thick stack of napkins. The part of his brain that controls logical thinking is apparently overrun by the onset of his mortification, and in an act of absolutely panic, he begins to dab at the stains with one of the napkins.

           “I-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m so so sorry,” Spencer stutters out, frantically attempting to blot the stain. “I’ll give you money for a new shirt. A-Actually, you should probably take this one off.  The best way to treat scalds is to immediately get the person away from the heat source. You should also run some cold water over it.”

           In his hurry to rectify his mistake, Spencer hadn’t managed to take a good look at you. When his eyes leave the stain in favor of looking at your face, he prepares himself to see anger there. What he doesn’t expect is for your face to be just as flushed as his, with eye brows raised in shock.

          Spencer also doesn’t expect this to be the moment he’s been waiting on his entire life, but one look into your eyes tells him this is it - this is your person.

           Stunned into a stupor, Spencer stills, eyes boring into your own. You’re even more beautiful than he’d dared to let himself imagine, but in all honesty that didn’t matter much. What matters is the fact that there’s a faint hint of smile lines etched into your skin, and your eyes are so inherently kind that Spencer has no doubt that you’re as gentle as you are alluring. Your benevolence is also evidenced by the fact that you hadn’t immediately begun to yell at him, and for that he is thankful.

           Spencer’s revelation renders him unable to form any semblance of thought, and before he knows it almost a solid minute of him gaping at you passes. You begin to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

           “I, uh, appreciate the help, and you seem like a nice enough guy, but your hand is on my boob and I kind of make it a point to not let strangers touch the goods. So, if you don’t mind,” you stammer, looking pointedly at his hand that is still pressing a napkin to your chest. Spencer recoils as if he’s the one that’s been scalded.

           “I-I didn’t mean to, um, t-touch your -,” Spencer gulps, “- chest. I swear I was just trying to get the stain out. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he chokes out. Spencer had imagined the moment he’d come face to face with his person a million times, and none of his daydreams had accounted for the possibility of him giving her second degree burns and inadvertently copping a feel. His emotions fell somewhere between mortification and elation.

           “Mm likely story,” you murmur, lips upturning into a smile that has Spencer feeling weak in the knees. Spencer practically swoons. “Do you make it a habit to ask strangers to take their tops off, or am I just special?”

           Oh God, had I really suggested that? Spencer cringes and wonders what good an IQ as high as his was when it seemed to fail him at times like these. Speaking to women had never been a specialty of his, despite Derek’s coaching, and Spencer was floundering to come up with an acceptable response.

           You are the most special woman in the world, probably. Nope – too creepy, and Spencer definitely doesn’t want to scare you off. Not when he’s been waiting the better part of thirty years to meet you.

           I didn’t mean to insinuate that you should take off your shirt, but I also wouldn’t particularly mind if you did. Even worse – that would certainly earn him a stern talking to from HR.

           Spencer decides to go for the honest approach.

           “I-I’m not sure how to answer that.”

           His honesty draws a laugh from you, and Spencer loves the sound so much that he decides then that he’ll never tell a lie again. You shake your head at him and reach for the napkins that he still has clutched in his hands.

           “What’s your name?” you ask him as you continue his earlier efforts to sop up the coffee.

           It’s probably the easiest question he’s ever been asked. That doesn’t stop him from making a fool out of himself, though.

           “I’m Doctor Spencer R-Reid. Uh, I’m Spencer. Y-You don’t have to call me Doctor.”

           Someone please put me out of my misery.

           Your eyes meet his again and he can tell that you’re holding back a laugh.

           “Okay, then, Spencer,” you say as you discard the napkins in a nearby trash bin. “I’m Y/N.” You punctuate your words with an outstretched hand, and before Spencer can think better of it, the usual spiel come tumbling out of his mouth.

           “The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It’s actually safer to kiss.”

           Your lower your hand and cock your head to the side.

           “Are you always this forward, Doctor Reid?” you tease him, eyes flashing amusedly.

           “I-I didn’t mean that we should kiss,” Spencer interjects, cringing at the way his voice has suddenly raised in pitch. “N-Not that I wouldn’t kiss you! I-I’m sure that kissing you would be really n-nice. I just meant that… you know. Germs.”

           Are you there, God? It’s me, Spencer. A hole opening up in the ground and swallowing me up would be great.

           To Spencer’s delight, you don’t seem offended in the slightest.

           “I cannot believe that they’ve been hiding you up here, Spencer Reid. I should’ve come to visit Penny years ago.”

           Wait – what?

           “You work here?”

           You nod.

           “I work on the floor below this one – sex crimes,” you explain.

           “For how long?”

           “Coming up on three years now.”

           Three years. You’d been right under Spencer’s nose for three years and he hadn’t the slightest clue. You’d parked your car in the same parking garage and taken the same elevator as he! How many times had your paths nearly crossed in the last three years? If he’d been just a little bit earlier or a little bit later getting into work, might the two of you met earlier? The possibility of it was maddening.

           “Oh, wow. I-I’ve never seen you,” Spencer mutters lamely. But miraculously, you don’t think he’s lame, if your response is any indication.

           “Nor I you, Doc. It’s a shame, too. You’re a funny guy.”

           Spencer Reid has been called a lot of things in his lifetime – funny was never one of them.

           “Y-Yeah. I’m a real riot at parties,” he deadpans.            “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” you hum, and Spencer really hopes that you mean it. “Would you mind escorting me to Penelope’s office?”

           Spencer nods, and the two of you fall in step together. Spencer’s wracking his brain again for something – anything- he could say to fill the silence. Thankfully, you don’t seem quite as inept at conversing as he, and you beat him to it.

           “You look a little young yourself, Spencer. How long have you worked here?”

           “Uh, I’ve actually worked here for almost eight years. I started when I was twenty-two.”

           Your eyebrows raise in shock.

           “Twenty-two, huh? That makes you – what? Thirty now? I wouldn’t put you a day past twenty-five,” you muse, and Spencer isn’t quite sure what to make of that. You must pick up on the conflicted look on his face, because you clarify. “That’s a good thing, Doc. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m thirty.”

           Spencer has to remind himself how to breathe.

           “I’m not thirty yet. Technically I have twenty-three more days. I could have a rapid decline in attractiveness by then.”

           Spencer’s not usually one to try to be funny, but she seems to have a good sense of humor and he wants to impress you in any way he can.

           “I guess I’ll have to swing back by in twenty-three days and find out.”

           The two of you come to a stop in front of Penelope’s office and Spencer tries not to look as disappointed as he feels. He doesn’t want your meeting to come to an end – not when there’s so much about you that he wants to know. He wants to ask about your opinion on books and obscure foreign films and most importantly, Spencer wants to know what you think about him. Did meeting him affect you in the same way it did him? Did you secretly wish to make this moment last, too?

           Spencer wants to say so much, but he can’t. He’s too awkward and too scared and too nervous to find the right words. So instead, he gives you a tight-lipped smile.

           “I’m sorry about your blouse. Can I please give you the money to buy a new one? I feel like it’s the least I can do.”

           “Absolutely not. It’s really not that big of a deal. Didn’t even really care for the shirt, if I’m being honest. Red really isn’t my color.”

           Spencer wants to tell you how wrong you are – that he’s infinitely certain that you’d look irresistible in any color – but he doesn’t.

           You reach for the door knob, and Spencer’s shoulders slump.

           “It was nice meeting you, Spencer.”

           And then you’re gone, and Spencer can’t help but think that he royally fucked up the most important introduction of his entire life.

--

           When Spencer envisioned how his life would look at age thirty, he’d imagined it being a lot different than it is now. He’d hoped to use his intelligence for something great – finding a way to cure Alzheimer’s had been his main aspiration. Yet, here he was, thirty years old with nothing more than three PhDs to his name. He’d accomplished nothing of great significance, and the idea of having wasted his intelligence was eating away at him.

           In short, Spencer Reid was in a bit of a funk.

           It didn’t help that he hadn’t seen you since that fateful day in the bullpen. Spencer had contemplated paying you a visit, but the lingering embarrassment over his actions kept him from reaching out. He didn’t think he could handle how badly a rejection from you would hurt, so instead he sulked around the office and wallowed in his own self-deprecation.

           Spencer’s birthday wasn’t something he tended to advertise. From a young age, he’d chosen to observe it silently. Usually, his mother would forget, and he never really had any friends to celebrate with, so the day was always rather unimportant to him. Perhaps he would order takeout and gorge himself on greasy food while he sat alone in his apartment. It had been good enough for him last year, and he supposed it would have to suffice this year as well.

           He made it a point not to mention it to his coworkers, and the day passed by just as any other day. By the time five o clock rolled around, Spencer was waving a goodbye to his coworkers and heading out the door. As he waits for the elevator, he debates on whether to order Thai food or pizza for dinner.

           Just as he settles on Thai, the elevator doors open.

           “Oh, thank God, I was worried that you had left already!”

           Before Spencer can get over the initial shock of seeing you, you’re stepping out of the elevator and into his space, an excited smile on your lips. And then you’re holding out your hand, and Spencer’s almost moved to tears when he sees you wielding a single chocolate cupcake.

           “I wasn’t sure if you’d like chocolate or vanilla better, so I went with my gut. I get the feeling you’re a chocolate kind of guy,” you say, eyes shining as you look up at him. “So, was I right?”

           “You brought this for me?” Spencer asks, voice barely above a whisper. He can’t fathom it – that you had spared him any thought past your initial meeting. Spencer had surely expected you to forget about him entirely. Either that, or you’d written him off as someone to be avoided.

           You nod.

           “Of course, I did. It’s your birthday. Everyone deserves something sweet on their birthday.” You pause, the smile dropping from your face. “It is your birthday, right? I didn’t miss it, did I?”

           Spencer is slow to shake his head.

           “N-No, you didn’t miss it. I’m just surprised you remembered.”

           You chuckled softly.

           “You’re very unforgettable, Doctor Reid,” you say, and Spencer’s heart flutters in his chest. “And you didn’t answer my question.” You gesture to the cupcake expectantly.

           “Chocolate is my favorite,” Spencer breathes out, raising a shaky hand and taking it from her. “I… Thank you. You didn’t have to do this. It’s not that big of a deal.”

           “Are you kidding me? You’re turning thirty. That’s a very big deal, Doc.,” you argue, and Spencer gives you a tentative smile.

           “If you say so.”

           “I do,” you smirk, before hitting the button to open the elevator doors. “So, do you have any big plans to celebrate?”

           The doors open and you and Spencer file into the elevator together– an event three years in the making.

           “Not really. I was just going to order some food and stay in,” Spencer says before taking a bite of the cupcake. It tastes wonderful – better than a store-bought cupcake could ever be. This cupcake was undoubtably made from scratch, and the thought of you taking the time out of your day to bake something for him makes him feel weak at the knees. Pair that with the way you’re looking up at him and Spencer worries he might collapse.

           “What kind of food?”

           “Thai,” Spencer says around the mouthful of cake.

           “Mm,” you hum. “You know – I happen to love Thai food. And I also happen to not have any plans for the evening.”

           Even Spencer, who struggles to decipher the simplest of social cues, can deduce that you are insinuating that you want to spend the evening with him. He’s thankful, then, that he had already swallowed the bite of cupcake, because there’s no doubt in his mind that he’d have choked on it. Spencer gapes at you, but your gaze is unwavering and your body language gives no indication that you were joking.

           “D-Do… Do you want to, uh, come over?” Spencer trips over his words more times than any grown man should, but in his defense, he isn’t exactly well versed in matters like this.

           “Do you want me to come over?”

           “Yes.” Spencer answers so quickly that it should be embarrassing, but it’s hard to feel anything but happy when you’re looking at him like that.

           “Then in that case, I thought you’d never ask,” you sigh dramatically, and then the door opens up and you link your arm with his. “You know, I was beginning to think I’d never see you again. I’ve been driving Penelope crazy asking about you, Doc.”

           “You’ve been asking about me?” Spencer asks, incredulous.

           “Absolutely. It’s not every day that you meet a guy who has the audacity to feel you up and ask you to undress within the first five minutes. I just had to know more,” you tease, and Spencer can’t help but laugh. Despite the cold air of the parking garage, Spencer feels warm – warmer than he’s ever felt and he knows that it has everything to do with the way you’ve pressed yourself against his side.

           “In that case, I’m very glad I spilled my coffee on you,” Spencer says and you let out a snort.

           “Yeah, I could’ve done without that part. And the part where you called me germy.”

           “I did not mean it like that,” Spencer insists. You hum and detach yourself from him, and Spencer instantly misses the contact.

           “Because it’s your birthday, I’ll let you off the hook,” you announce, making your way to the other side of his car, all while never taking your eyes off him. “And if you’re lucky, birthday boy, I might just be willing to test that theory of yours.”

           Spencer cocks his head to the side.

           “Theory?”

           You nod, and the smile that creeps across your face is the best birthday present he’s ever gotten.

           “You said you thought kissing me would be nice. I think we should find out.”

           Spencer Reid is, by most people’s definition, unlucky in love. But as he steals glances at you on the way to his apartment, his chest swells with a hope that maybe – just maybe – his luck is about to change.

[deannaroxannewrites]

Tropetember Day 5 - Accidental Confession / In Vino Veritas (Drunk Confession/Drunk Dial)

Unrequited love? Bite me

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x GN!Reader

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Rating: Teen and up

TW: Drinking/alcohol, language, vampirism/blood mentions, FWB mention

AN: Day 5 of @tropetember. Not my best work but hope you enjoy. Might rework this slightly at a later point.

A visit to the Salvatores in Mystic Falls should be pretty fun, until Damon decides to drag you to a party the Originals are throwing.

Find this story on Ao3 here.

Word Count: 1.5k

“Damon, you cannot be serious.”

Your best friend just gives you puppy dog eyes. Bright blue and sad as can be. It’s kinda pathetic.

“Pretty please.”

You huff, knowing you won’t win this argument. You’ve known him since you were both children, through him being turned by Katherine and later Stefan turning you (long story), and then on and off in the intervening century and a half. You even had a casual friends with benefits arrangement when you were both lonely/bored. Knowing him so well, you decide to save everyone the time and give in.

“You’re paying for my outfit Damon! I can not believe you’re making me go…”

He scoops you up and spins you, making you squeal as he thanks you. Stefan, who has been observing from the couch being absolutely no help, just laughs.

“You won’t regret it. It’ll be fun and we can learn some things at the same time. We’ll be the most attractive spy duo in history.”

You just roll your eyes and go to grab your keys before stealing Damon’s wallet. If you’re going to have to face the Mikaelsons again, you weren’t doing it in something you’d worn before. And you were going to buy something expensive out of spite.

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

The entrance to the Mikaelson’s house was the same as any other house in Mystic Falls: opulent, excessive and with far too much marble. You’d take a cosy cabin over this nonsense any day.

Clinging to Damon's arm, you enter the space and, thankfully, Klaus is the only one of the family greeting guests.

“Darling, it’s been a while.” You can’t help the reactionary smile as you embrace him. He could be bat shit crazy at times, but he’d always been kind to you.

“Klaus! I’ve missed you.” Out of your eye corner, you can see Damon giving you both evil eyes. Had you accidentally on purpose forgotten to mention you knew the original family? Oops, your bad.

Klaus doesn’t let you go far, holding you at arms length to admire your new outfit. You do look stunning in it, if you do say yourself.

“Beautiful.” He leans in to whisper in your ear “My brother really doesn’t realise what he’s missing.”

You laugh him off, ignoring the implication. You knew better.

“Now boys,” you say, glancing between them, “I’ll have no part in whatever this little competition or measuring contest is, and I expect you all to leave me out of it.” They both look a little guilty as they nod. “Marvellous. If you need me, I’ll be somewhere out of the way with a glass of champagne.”

And with that you head further into the party, leaving them to bicker.

-----

"Urgh, I've missed you so much! I can't believe you left us."

You and Rebekah are both waaaay too many glasses of champagne deep at this point. You’d been there a couple of hours by now and it had only taken Rebekah 30mins to realise you were there and take you hostage. You're currently sequestered on a sofa in a corner and are both a bit sloppy.

"What do you want me to say Bekah? It's your arsehole brother's fault."

"Wait, what? What did Klaus do?"

You laugh, just a tad hysterically and fortify yourself with another sip out of your glass.

"Wrong one. Go older"

A look of understanding comes across her face and she wraps an arm around you. You, sadly, don't have enough of your wits about you to realise that this isn't the best place for a drunken heart to heart.

Everything starts to spill out of you. How you and Elijah had spent so much time together. How you thought he liked you back, only for him to turn up with what's her name wrapped around him. How he'd laughed when you'd expressed your surprise that he was dating, and how it made you feel like nothing. It was too much for your heart to handle. So you’d left, had a fun rebound weekend with Damon and tried to move on.

Rebekah pulls back slightly, wiping a tear that had escaped without your permission.

"You're too good for him anyway," she says and you laugh.

"I wish that were true.” You pull yourself together a little and put on your best fake smile. “For now, I'm just going to don an air of indifference and pretend I'm not in love with your oldest brother."

Your mirth leaves you instantly as you hear a refined voice behind you ask, "now why on Earth would you do that?"

It’s amazing how panic can sober you up.

You turn slowly and meet the eyes of the oldest Original. He’s in a suit, as always, and has a confident smirk plastered across his face. That pisses you off.

“Cos he’s an asshole” you coolly reply before turning to Rebekah, pressing a kiss to her cheek and walking swiftly out of the room to find Damon to take you home. You’d embarrassed yourself quite enough for one night.

You’d never admit that you were disappointed that Elijah didn’t try to stop you.

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

One of the advantages to being a vampire was that you very rarely got a hangover. Instead, you just slept in a little, made a cup of coffee and did some yoga before heading out to treat yourself to lunch. You didn’t need to eat but you enjoyed the taste, there was much more variety in food than blood.

You'd only arrived in Mystic Falls a couple of days ago for your visit to see the Salvatore brothers and as such hadn't had a chance to try out the Mystic Grill. This seemed like a perfect fit opportunity. Something greasy would be perfect right about now.

The grill was a bit dingy but it worked for the place and you were happy to learn that they have a pretty good menu selection. Your excitement was soured though when Elijah decided to join you for lunch.

Dressed in yet another suit, no tie and the top buttons of his shirt undone, he oozes charm and money. Add in the handsome features and knockout smile and you were lost. You're sure back in the day the ladies with delicate constitutions had to keep their smelling salts close. You could easily have fainted over him.

But he wasn't interested in you, as he had made very clear, so you were just annoyed that he was existing in your space.

Elijah watched you eat for a few moments, clearly taking note of your reluctance to acknowledge him.

"For someone who's in love with me, you don't seem particularly happy to see me darling."

You groan quietly and lower your utensils. Wishing him away wasn't working.

"What do you want Elijah?" You sound bitter, even to your own ears. So much for attempting to sound neutral.

"One of my favourite people, who I haven't seen for a long time, has reappeared and I want to spend time with them. Is that too much to ask?"

You start eating again, using it to buy time. You had honestly missed his company. You just weren’t sure if you could bear him breaking your heart again, even accidentally and unintentionally. Luckily, he had more to say.

“Klaus told me off after you left, you know?”

You look at him in surprise.

“Told me that I’d wasted my best opportunity at happiness. Which is especially concerning considering who it was coming from.”

You nod your agreement. Klaus wasn’t exactly known for his sentimentality.

He continues, “would you believe that I really thought you were too good for me? That I really thought you weren’t interested?”

“Elijah, you can not be serious.” You pull a face at him. “I literally spent all of my time with you, hanging on your every word. I would have followed you to the ends of the Earth. How could you not have known?”

“I just thought you were being your usual effervescent self. I started dating again to try and let you go.”

Miscommunication. You shake your head. 30 years of heartbreak all because of miscommunication. God, you could bang the pair of your heads together. It’s basically a crappy romance novel. Ok, this is ok. You can fix this. You have pretty much forever left, after all.

Taking the initiative, you lean forward and grasp Elijah’s hand. His eyes fall to where you wrap your fingers around his. A hopeful look takes over his face as he returns to your eyes.

“Elijah?” You smile. “Would you like to go on a date with me?”

He laughs. It’s a beautiful sound. You’re going to make it your personal mission to make him do it more often.

Lifting your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss on them.

“I can think of nothing else I’d rather do.”

[arvinsescape]

The Princess and the Guard.

A/N: Chapter two is here, this Chapter is a bit of a filler and more will happen in the next Chapter. I hope you all enjoy! I will accept feedback and constructive criticism. 

This series is not historically accurate and is not intended to be so please bare that in mind when you are reading, I am no real expert on how royalty works (even if I am from England).

This series will contain misogynistic language and views, violence, death and nsfw content. I will always put the relevant warnings into each chapter!

Teaser, Chapter one, Chapter two, Chapter Three, Chapter four

Warnings: None.

W/C: 2.4K (The chapters are set to get longer starting next week.)

Chapter two:

“You look like you had a good evening your highness.” Annie said as you made your way into your bedroom, your interaction with Tom still had your heart hammering in your chest.

“It did not turn out as badly as I had anticipated.” You answered and Annie smiled as she got to work unpinning your hair, taking the butterfly grip out first and placing it carefully into your jewellery box.

“Did you meet someone?” She asked, almost excitedly.

“No, no one my mother would be happy with.” You almost sighed. “Anyway, tell me, what will you be doing with your day off?” You asked changing the subject, Annie got a day off a week to be able to do as she pleased.

“I was hoping to go to the market and then visit my mother’s grave.” She said and you smiled sadly at her, she was so close to her mother, it saddened you that she lost her so young. “Then I was hoping to attend the bar that most of the staff do.” She said and it piqued your interest.

“Most of the staff? Who else goes?” You asked.

“Well Tuwaine and Sam go often.” She said and you smirked, it was no secret that Annie was attracted to Tuwaine. A blush often creeping up her neck and onto her cheeks when she spoke to him. Sam and Tuwaine were the lead chef’s in the kitchen. “Harry attends when he can.” She said and you smiled.

Harry and Sam where twins and Tom’s younger brother’s. Harry was in charge of training the royal guard to protect the crown and due to this he didn’t often get time off. They had an even younger brother Patrick who was training to be a stable hand, he loved the horses and taking care of them. Tom’s father worked as the groundskeeper, you’d had many conversations with him whilst walking through the grounds. Tom’s mother made most of the dresses you and your mother wore.

It was strange to you, your parents had employed Tom’s for years and you wondered if they would possibly be happy about you and Tom but you knew that was a long shot. Although your mother loved Tom’s family, she was still proper and everything had to be done in a certain way to her.

“Thomas goes.” Annie broke you from your thoughts, you tried to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face at the mention of Tom’s name. “He’s gets a lot of female attention.” She laughed and your stomach warped with disappointment.

“He does?” You asked.

“Well of course. Not to step out of line but he is a very attractive man. Women are all over him when he comes. He doesn’t often entertain them though.” She laughed.

“He does not?” You asked and she smiled shyly.

“He seems to have a very specific type. I’ve only seen him leave with three women this year and they all have a lot in common.”

“They do?”

“I’m sorry, I am saying too much. It’s not my place, Thomas probably would not appreciate my gossiping.”

“I will not tell him.” You smiled in reassurance and she returned it. She encouraged you to stand as she started working on unlacing your dress.

“Please forget I said anything, I wouldn’t want to start any vicious rumours.” She said and you decided to drop it, she’d asked, so you would. It would be wrong to push her because at some point she wouldn’t be able to deny your request and that was an abuse of your power that you didn’t like.

“How long has it been since you lost your mother?” You asked her, you knew it was the anniversary of her death tomorrow, she’d asked you politely and almost shyly for the second day off this week and of course you had given it to her.

“Ten years.” She said as she slipped your nightgown over your head before moving your ballgown to be cleaned. You moved to your jewellery box and looked through it to find the pearl necklace you’d received a few years ago from a suitor when he’d asked for your hand. You clutched it in your hand as you moved towards Annie and took her hand in yours.

You placed the pearl necklace into her palm and she gasped slightly as she looked at what you had given her.

“I want you to take this and I want you to sell it, it will get you a good price. Buy something nice for your mother’s grave and for yourself.” You smiled and you watched as tears pooled in her eyes.

“Princess, I cannot accept this.” She said as she tried to give it back to you.

“You can. I insist. I would rather this necklace went towards something nice and to a nice person rather than collect dust in that box.” You smiled.

“Thank you, your highness.” She said as she wiped at her eyes and you pulled her into a hug.

“I hope you have a lovely day off tomorrow and get to do what you wanted to do. I will miss you, Jane is lovely but she is not you.” You laughed.

“Thank you. I shall see you when I return.”

**

You didn’t mind Jane, she was a very good maid but she was nowhere near as shy as Annie is. She’s very open about what she wants and isn’t too afraid to give certain opinions. You’d had a pretty uneventful day, the palace had been quiet due to most of the staff being off for the day and your parents had been visiting a Lord not too far away, which meant most of the guard was also gone. Jane was currently unpinning your hair and she was staring at the butterfly grip.

“I always wanted to be a princess.” She said as she put the grip into your jewellery box, not as carefully as Annie would and you had to bite your tongue in order to not shout at her. “I would love to marry a man who could make me rich.” She added and you almost rolled your eyes.

“Life as a rich woman is not as glamourous as one might assume.” You said.

“It has to be better than how it is for us though. You have your pick of the men.” She said and you raised your brows. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“I may have my pick of many men but not many of them are nice.”

“But they have so much money. Not to be too inappropriate but that must be a good thing.” She said and you sighed.

“That is inappropriate. I would not like to be married to a man who I cannot stand.”

“What about that Duke? I’ve heard he has taken quite a liking to you.” She asked.

“I do not know him so well so I would not like to pass judgement.” You said as she began to brush your hair.

“I always wanted to marry your brother, he would have made me a princess and your sister.” You did raise your brows at that. “Sorry that was out of line.”

**

Once Jane was finished, you were quick to dismiss her, you did not enjoy her company at all the way you enjoyed Annie’s. You decided to head to the library in search of a romance novel you’d read so many times you’d lost count, after having found it you made your way back towards your room. A pair of voices however, stopped you in your tracks, you knew it was rude to eavesdrop but one of the voices had caught your attention.

“Jane.” You heard Tom’s voice, almost in warning.

“I don’t understand.” You heard Jane huff. “I thought you liked me.” She snapped.

“I’m not sure what gave you that impression.” You heard Tom answer, almost bored.

“We kissed last week.” Jane stated matter of factly and you swear your heart stopped at her words, you knew you shouldn’t have been bothered about it but you couldn’t help it.

“No, I believe you kissed me and I rejected you. I’m sorry Jane but I don’t like you that way.” You heard Tom say and it was like the words forced your heart to start beating again.

“Well I’m sorry that I don’t look like her.” You heard Jane snap. “You need to get a grip Tom, she’ll never like you back.” Your ears perked at that, he liked someone?

“I think you should go.” You heard Tom warn again.

“Unless you get some sudden cash injection and title change you’ll never be able to have her. Don’t make yourself miserable over a woman you can only wish has feelings for you, or even remembers your name.” Jane snapped again and you heard her footsteps as she rushed away from the conversation. Your heart was beating in your chest, your grip on the book was tight. He liked someone? Someone of a higher status?

You spent a few moments collecting yourself before you made your way around the corner and down the corridor, hoping Tom would have moved by now, he hadn’t. You realised that your appearance was less than appropriate, hair down, nightgown on, no shoes on at all. What would he think?

“Princess.” You heard his voice and you almost smiled.

“Tom.” You greeted and he smiled at you.

“Out for a late night walk?”

“No. Well yes. I wanted a book from the library.” You stumbled over your words, it felt foreign to you, you’d never struggled with what to say.

“I don’t think the Princess should be walking alone around the palace.” He almost scalded.

“Really? Who is going to tell me off? You?” You teased and he laughed.

“No. However, I would like to be a gentleman and escort you back to your room.” He said and you blushed.

“What would people think if they saw you escorting me to my bedroom?” You laughed and he smiled.

“They would probably assume I am doing my job.”

“You are Harrison’s guard, not mine.” You reminded him and he smiled.

“Correct, I am. However, Harrison does not need my services tonight and you may. Like I said, I would like to be a gentleman.” He smiled again and your heart fluttered.

“Alright then.” You said as you fell into step next to him, he looked down and smiled.

“You have no shoes on.” He pointed out and you laughed.

“I do not.”

“It looks cute.” He added and you both blushed. “Sorry, I should not have said that.”

“It’s alright, I cannot really get angry at a compliment.” You reassured.

“Please be careful where you step, I would not like you to hurt your feet.” He said nervously and you laughed.

“Tom, I thought we were passed the proper talk.”

“You still speak proper.” He teased and you breathed out a laugh.

“I apologise, I’m not really used to speaking to people that don’t expect it of me.” You said and instantly regretted the words. That sounded awful. “Wait, no. Sorry I didn’t mean-“

“I know what you meant.” He reassured and you relaxed.

“So Tom,” you pried. “Tell me. Do you have a special girl?”

“Something like that.” He answered.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You laughed. “You either do or you don’t.”

“Well I am in love with a woman, yes. But I doubt she sees me in such a way.” He answered.

“I’m sure she would.” You reassured. You were almost back to your room and you found yourself disappointed.

“Even if she did, it would be frowned upon. She is much too good for me.”

“That can’t be true. Tom, you are a lovely man. No one is too good for anyone.” You said.

“That isn’t true, this woman is special, she’s too good for everyone.” He said and you found yourself wanting to know who this woman was immediately.

“Who is it?” You asked as you stood outside your bedroom door.

“If I told you that Princess it would land me in a whole lot of trouble.” He said, there was no one around and you found yourself grateful.

“You can trust me.” You said and he smiled sadly.

“Even if I did tell her, it would change nothing. I’m in love with a woman I cannot have. Even if she did love me back, it would never be allowed. She would never be allowed to marry a guard.” He said and your heart burst in your chest, he was talking about you, that much was obvious and it filled you with a feeling you’d never had before, you couldn’t describe it.

“What if she didn’t care? What if the men she was supposed to marry didn’t interest her.” You said and he smiled.

“It wouldn’t matter, she can do better than me.” He said, you were close and if anyone were around they would deem it inappropriate but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

“What if she didn’t think so.” You said, your faces had somehow gotten closer during the exchange. Your heart beating in your chest.

“Oh Princess, you really are perfect.” He whispered, it almost sounded like he was talking to himself. You found yourself holding your breath in anticipation as he leant even closer to you, your eyes closing. You waited to feel his lips on yours but you never did. Instead you felt his lips on your cheek, the spot he’d kissed was burning as he removed them.

It took you a moment to open your eyes, composing yourself, but once your eyes had opened you were met with nothing, you watched as he made his way down the corridor, around the corner and out of sight. You were left with your heart almost beating out of your chest and the biggest smile on your face you’d ever had.

**

Taglist: @allthisfortommy , @bi-lmg , @bigassnocash , @thoughtfulfireangelpersona , @aidinniram 

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please let me know!! 💕

[starsaroundsaturn]

books I still can’t believe I’ve read to this day because they are literally nightmare fuel, and my thoughts or memories/conceptions on them

the 100 by Kass Morgan--how the heck did this get out of the garbage to be printed. MY FRIEND. YOU ARE GIVING US NUCLEAR DESTRUCTION. THEY ARE RETURNING TO EARTH. THIS COULD BE FOUND FAMILY, EXISTENTIAL HORROR, SCIENCE FICTION, DEEP AND PHILOSOPHICAL, OR LITERALLY A COMEDY SHOW. YOU LITERALLY COULD’VE MADE THIS LIKE A CAMPING TRIP. INSTEAD YOU CHOOSE TO SHOVE LIKE EIGHT LOVE TRIANGLES IN MY FACE WHEN NONE OF THE CHARACTERS ARE UNIQUE OR WELL DEVELOPED AND I CARE ABOUT NONE OF THEM? I CAN APPRECIATE ROMANCE MY DUDE. THIS IS NOT ROMANCE. THIS IS LITERALLY JUST THE RIPOFF OF ANOTHER BETTER BOOK THAT I NEVER GOT TO READ.

Rating: 0/10 I will die mad

American Gods by Neil Gaiman-- “But Lyra, you love Neil Gaiman! The Ocean at the End of the Lane was amazing” hmm but I raise you that I didn’t need his wife cheating on him, definitely didn’t need her ghost haunting him, definitely didn’t need the very explicit sex cannibalism scenes (yes. literally. sex and cannibalism. chill. very cool. apparently goddesses are preying mantis now.) this book was, however, atmospheric. if someone had given this big hulking man a child to take care of it would’ve been better. 

Rating: 1.3/10 this book gave me trauma I want to forget

Ruby Red by Kirstin Gier--this was not a book series. this was a contrivance to make me want to scoop my brain from my skull because the main character was judgmental and bitchy and for some reason she was the chosen one and that one guy wanted her and then he didn’t and there was this weird discussion of sexism that was done sublimely poorly and my gosh, please NEVER experience this

Rating: .2/10 the screaming this book made me do tore my throat up but I probably needed it

Blue Bloods by Melissa de La Cruz--disgusting as sin, and please stop with the twincest. Yeah you heard me right “reincarnated angels” sure but it’s twincest. DISGUSTING. And if I remember correctly he was in love with her mom. WHAT THE *&%^ IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE. I CANNOT BELIEVE I ACTUALLY READ MORE THAN ONE OF THESE WHAT WAS I THINKING.

Also realizing that this series was by Melissa de La Cruz clarifies my understanding of why whenever I picked up one of her books was like trying to swallow poison I have no trust for this author anymore

Rating: -36/10 I would rather drink broken glass and hot sauce than read or think about this series again.

The Guinevere Deception by Kiersten White--WHY DID YOU BOTHER WITH THE VIRGINITY PLOTLINE THAT’S A NO FROM ME. I genuinely find the virginity plotlines in books by most authors extremely disrespectful and dumb. Sincerely. Virginity does not need to be sensationalized. It does not need to be a plot point in your book. People who just genuinely do not want to have sex whether for religious or personal reasons exist. Also, WOULD YOU STOP IT WITH THE STRANGE RELATIONSHIP STUFF IF SHE’S GOING TO BE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH ARTHUR DO NOT MAKE HER INTERESTED IN HIS UNCLE THIS IS SQUICKY. I also genuinely hate the “fragile little thing with enormous magical powers” trope. Just let her have godlike power. Just make her like Izuku Midoriya, and her power crushes her bones but she’s this determined kid who keeps her chin up. I don’t want a “fragile heroine” to read about I want a human being. Yes she can like dresses, yes she can need people, yes she can faint, just STOP making her feel like a damsel in distress fumbling in the dark. Make her a real person and I might actually read the second book.

Rating: let ants bite my wrists rather than read this/10 just once let a book that sounds interesting actually be good

These Broken Stars by Amie Kaufman and Meagan Spooner--Read Unearthed, it was better. Make the horror existential if you must give me this romance stuff in the background, thanks, this would’ve been better as a horror novel. or just cut through the middle man and read Contagion by Erin Bowman for that kind of grossness involved in aliens possessing your body with extra points for when the aliens possess your body but not in a negative way, because that book was better

Rating: 4/10 it was fine but I still can’t believe I read it

disclaimer: if you like these books I am happy for you, this is me being salty because I can be salty here. no hate to you if these books are ones you enjoyed. some of my criticism may be actually noting endemic problems in the writing, but a lot of it may also be just because these were not the books for me

[bywordofaphrodite]

Book Reviews 7&8: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen & Anne of Green Gables by L.M Montgomery

This review’s theme is female-led romantic classics ! Audience age: roughly age 10+

This review is about two of my all-time favourite female-led classics! Pride and Prejudice is one of the only classics I can truthfully say I enjoy, sorry to lovers of classics I just cannot bring myself to love many of them. Elizabeth Bennet is a timeless heroine, and her story is an easy, comfortable read. Anne of Green Gables, likewise, echoes the same sentiments, albeit with considerably more hijinks added into the mix- and with the heroines’ age gaps and very different circumstances, this is to be expected!

Nostalgic review

Rating: ★★★★★

These novels are, if I didn’t already make clear, comfort stories in the best sense of the word. It’s been several years since I last read either of them in full, but there is a special ease about them at all times; even in the midst of disaster, you know there is hope just around the corner.

In the case of Pride and Prejudice, I’ll admit that as much as I love Lizzy, it is the entirety of the story that draws me in more than just her character. I love the general vibe of the novel, the drama and gossip in the town and all the fuss that comes about with each new ball the Bennet sisters must attend for social reasons. The surprising scandals are all very alluring, and really, Jane Austen’s stories walked so Gossip Girl could run!

On the flip side, Anne as a character- she is one of my absolute most favourite characters ever written. I’m no orphan and I’ve never had to struggle in the way she did, but I grew up the odd one out in a small town, with a hot temper and a huge imagination that always managed to get me into trouble. Everything about Anne is relatable to me- right down to the infamous scene where she attempts to dye the red hair she hates and it goes green instead (I tried to bleach mine and it went orange, so I didn’t fare much better).

While it has been a long time since I last read these books, I am expecting more positive surprises than negative ones, now that I’m older with a bit more perspective!

Pride and Prejudice Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: Elizabeth Bennet, the second daughter of a middle-class family desperate to marry off their five daughters, navigates her way through matters of marriage, estate, love and temperament in an attempt to make a match that ensures her own happiness in a time where love was not always a priority.

Set in Regency England, the middle-class family the Bennets begin to fear their ruin as Mr Bennet grows older. See, Mr Bennet’s estate and fortune detailed in his will can only go to a male heir upon his death, thus ruling out his five daughters without their marriages taking place. As luck would have it, two eligible rich men arrive in town, and Mrs Bennet becomes obsessed with setting up her daughters with them. Amidst numerous balls and trips to the rich families’ residence of Netherfield, Jane Bennet catches the eye of sweet Charles Bingley, while Elizabeth begins a cold war with Bingley’s best friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, after he slights her upon their first meeting, to Mrs Bennet’s fury.

Over time, Mr Darcy becomes increasingly attracted to intelligent and witty Elizabeth, but so do other, less appealing characters to the likes of Elizabeth’s pretentious and stupid cousin, the clergyman Mr Collins, and the handsome militia officer Wickham, who tells Elizabeth that he has lost his fortune because Darcy stole it from him. When Elizabeth’s fifteen year-old sister runs away with Wickham in the middle of the night, Elizabeth is forced to hear our Mr Darcy’s side of the story and put aside her prejudice toward him. He, in turn, overcomes his pride, and by the end of the novel the two are able to freely admit their love without pride or prejudice standing in the way.

For such an old book, it really does stand the test of time. The lessons Austen teaches in this story are forever applicable to relationships in any timeline, though we have to make do without the fancy dresses and balls (and the gender norms and sexism, so it’s still a win for us, I suppose). I enjoy her writing and love how humorous it is; Austen perfected the art of polite mockery. Elizabeth is a good role model, and her character development over the course of the novel is wonderful.

Characters who aged well: first and foremost, Elizabeth Bennet of course. She’s headstrong and real, and satisfyingly selfish when necessary (nobody should be selfless when presented with a proposal from Mr Collins, and I will not hear otherwise). Mr Darcy remains an eternal heartthrob- I do sometimes wonder how someone less determined to see the bad side in Darcy would have viewed him from the get-go (my guess that had Jane been the perspective offered, Darcy might have been cut a bit of slack earlier. But where would be the fun in that?). I won’t comment on all the characters, but I will mention that I appreciated Jane much more as an adult. As often happened with sweeter female characters, internalised misogyny used to get the best of me on occasion and I would resent them for being ‘boring’. Now I just think she’s lovely.

For a villain, Mr Wickham aged so well. I once saw a Tumblr post declaring him the 1800s equivalent of a modern-day fuckboy and it’s stuck in my mind ever since because yes, that’s exactly what he is.

Characters who aged badly: Everybody hates Mr Collins, but I don’t know if I’m entirely correct in listing him here, given he wasn’t well liked back in 1813 either. As an antagonist, he technically aged well, but I’m going to keep him here anyway because I felt like ranting about him. The same goes for nauseating Mrs Bennet and Mary… they aged as intended, but I will remain frustrated with them anyway.

Favourite scene/quote: ‘An unhappy alternative is before you, Elizabeth. From this day you must be a stranger to one of your parents. Your mother will never see you again if you do not marry Mr Collins… And I will never see you again if you do.’

This line never fails to make me laugh, whether on paper or onscreen. He does delight in vexing his over-excitable and irritating wife, and in this case it was all the more pleasing: he saw his wife trying to force his favourite daughter into marrying perhaps his least favourite person on the planet and supported Elizabeth’s decision to reject the man wholeheartedly, as well as reinforces the bond between father and daughter in a humorous way.

Scenes I particularly enjoyed are the ones surrounding Wickham’s secrets and shocking fake elopement with Lydia, partially because Lizzy and Darcy become close, but mostly because all the detective work unravelling the drama is so entertaining. It’s pleasing to see Darcy come out the undisputed hero after all Wickham’s deceit and attempts to ruin many girls’ reputations in attempts to get their fortunes.

Anne of Green Gables Review

Post-read: ★★★★★

Synopsis: red-headed orphan Anne Shirley is adopted by unmarried siblings Matthew and Marilla Cuthbert by accident. After a trial period, they agree to keep Anne, and the misunderstanding brings the greatest joy to their small farmhouse in the town of Avonlea.

This book! Everything about it!

As I anticipated, time did not change any of my love nor expectations for this book, but rather made me fall in love with it all over again.

Starting at the beginning, Anne’s introduction to the Cuthberts starts off with her first asking him to call her by a name she chose herself, and then settling with keeping her own name as long as they remember to spell it with an ‘e’. This alone is already something I relate strongly to- I can’t bear when people forget the second ‘e’ in my name… it looks so empty.

Moving on from the names!

Anne is enrolled in school, a place she is successful in due to her intelligence, yet many adults in the town, including her teacher, refuse to treat her very well. Anne’s temper gets her into trouble of numerous occasions with adults and classmates alike, the most memorable instance being when the handsome popular boy Gilbert Blythe calls her ‘carrots’ and tugs her plaits to get Anne to notice him- and she does, but likely not in the way he hoped: she smashes her writing slate over his head. Utterly iconic move.

The friendship between Anne and her neighbour Diana is a high point of the book, too. Anne is always on the lookout for ‘kindred spirits’ or ‘bosom friends’, terms she applies not only to Diana, but also to Matthew and her second teacher, the amazing Miss Stacy who represents that one literature teacher every writer child connects with.

Navigating dozens of scrapes and accidents, Anne manages to graduate school and attend an academy where- with Miss Stacy’s encouragement- she obtains her teaching license in one year instead of two, and ties first place with Gilbert Blythe, whom she has ignored to the best of her ability since the ‘carrots’ incident, though he has tried many times to obtain her forgiveness. Toward the end of the novel, Matthew has a heart attack that shatters both Anne and Marilla, and she gives up the scholarship she won in favour of teaching close to home in order to stop Green Gables from being sold. Gilbert Blythe passes on his teaching position at Avonlea school to Anne so she won’t have to struggle, and Anne finally accepts that she has lot more love for Gilbert than anything else.

Though they do not get together in this book, the following sequels end with their marriage, and their developing romance is a special part of this first novel too.

Characters who aged well: Anne Shirley, best girl! I think I’ve already listed enough examples to showcase what I think of her, but I also think she has aged very well as an interesting character and feminist role model, all the way back in 1908. Gilbert, too, is a wonderful example of how a man should be, and his character growth is every bit as good as Anne’s. The supporting characters are wonderful too.

Characters who aged badly: Mr Phillips, Anne’s first teacher who treated her terribly and tried to marry a student in the same classroom. Predator teachers exist now too, of course, but this man simply did not cop the jail time he deserved (yes, times were different then, I don’t care).

Favourite scene/quote: ‘I’m not a bit changed- not really. I’m only just pruned down and branched out. The real ME- back here—is just the same.’

This is the essence of Anne’s story, and I like to think for many people. Most people like to think they’ve changed while growing up, but the truth is that most people remain the same, they just grow into their ideas and find new dreams to follow; change doesn’t have to signify loss, just growth.

There are many great scenes in Anne of Green Gables, and narrowing down favourites is quite hard. As a romantic, I loved any scene with Gilbert, even though Anne herself was desperately trying to ignore him. All of Anne’s scrapes are hilarious, too, but if I had to choose, it’s when Matthew picks Anne up from the station the day they meet, and the quiet man- whose only interactions are with his sister- immediately takes a liking to the poor orphan girl no other adult has ever been kind to. Their ride home together signifies a beautiful change in both their lives, and their instant bond is heart-warming.

Overall verdict: I’ve read both of these novels more times than I care to count, so there was never really any strong doubt that I wouldn’t continue to love them a fair amount. It may seem a ridiculous thing to say that I still find them both to be well-written, but as someone who finds many ‘classics’ incredibly boring and too wordy to properly enjoy (looking at Charles Dickens, by the way), I’m making a note of my contentment with Austen and Montgomery’s writing styles. I do generally prefer female authors in the first place (and not just because most men can’t seem to write good female characters to save their lives) so I’m not entirely surprised by this, though I think it necessary to mention after my shock over the stunted sentences in Enid Blyton’s works and Nancy Drew and the Mystery at Lilac Inn.

While rereading these books I also felt compelled to re-watch the televised versions and show them to my younger sister too (she loves them!). I do have personal favourite versions, and this is due not only to the actors in the cast, but to which I deem the most accurate and faithful in comparison to the original written source material. For Pride and Prejudice, contrary to the popular version amongst most people who reference it, my favourite is not the Kiera Knightley movie. I greatly prefer the BBC show, finding the casting, setting and costuming far more accurately detailed. I don’t hate the movie, just to be clear! But if you want accuracy watch the television show, especially because the episodes had a chance to explore more of the script than the movie did, so there was no need to cut things out or rush certain developments.

As for Anne of Green Gables, there are a few different movies and series. My forever-favourite is the Megan Follows and Jonathon Crombie led film series, with the first movie released in 1985. The casting was perfect, I adored the settings and costuming, and Megan as Anne captured everything about the character in the most perfect way imaginable. As for the newer Netflix series Anne with an E, I have only seen a few episodes but I think that was really well done too; the casting of the leads was also very faithful to Montgomery’s novels. It’s a shame that Netflix chose to cancel a show that so many young people really enjoyed, but I hope maybe some of them will watch the movies or pick up the books!

The true importance of these books for me as a child was my connection to the characters, which hasn’t changed at all. Though I do identify in part with Elizabeth, it is Anne who is so much like me, and while I haven’t reviewed past the first book here, I can confirm that my personality has evolved in the same way hers does in the sequels. Something interesting I noticed when mentioning either of these series to people unfamiliar with them is that they are surprised I like these books. The reason? Owing to how old the novels are, people expect the characters to be boring and grounded in sexist tropes. While I cannot deny there are plenty of books out there that are full of these issues, the characters of Elizabeth and Anne are very much feminist in the best way possible. They fight against the expectations for their gender and forge their own paths. Their relationships with the male leads take a long time to develop- Anne and Gilbert do not get together until proper adulthood- because they want everything to be done on their terms, within their own certainty. Neither lead suffers from ‘not like other girls’ syndrome, both cherishing their friendships with the women around them, and Anne especially is a celebration of the best parts of femininity.

Ultimately I find both Pride and Prejudice and Anne of Green Gables to be comfort novels. There is conflict and angst, humour and love, and the reassuring knowledge that by the end of it everyone will get their happy ending.

[tcm]

The Romance of Murder...The Murder of Romance by Theresa Brown

George Stevens— director of SHANE (‘53), GIANT (‘56), GUNGA DIN (‘39) and WOMAN OF THE YEAR (‘42)—won the first of his two Best Director Academy Awards for A PLACE IN THE SUN (‘51), one of the iconic screen classics that started off the 1950’s. (His second Oscar was for the epic GIANT). A PLACE IN THE SUN is truly textbook filmmaking at its finest. The movie has six Academy Awards to its credit. Stevens takes us by the hand and masterfully lays down bread crumbs for us to follow. His filmmaking here is romantic with scenes flowing seamlessly from one into the next, using a few wipes and many super slow dissolves. Superimpositions linger onto the next scene like ghosts. His slow dissolves make me swoon.

A PLACE IN THE SUN is based on a Theodore Dreiser novel and is a remake of the 1931 film directed by Josef von Sternberg. Stevens’ version stars Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor and Shelley Winters, all three acquitting themselves very nicely in a morally ambiguous triangle. Frankly, I’m torn. I want to be a good and ethical audience member of society...but I’m swept up by the romance of the film.

Montgomery Clift gets an utterly fantastic intro into the movie. Underneath the film’s credits with great musical fanfare, the movie starts with a young man hitchhiking on a highway. Thumbing for a ride, he backs up into the camera and after George Stevens’ director title card disappears, Monty (if I may be so informal) turns to face the camera. Stevens slowly dollies into a close-up of him. My God! That beautiful face of Clift’s fills up the entire screen. Man or woman, if you’re not a goner by that point, then you need more vitamins. 

And that’s just the first five minutes of the movie! Maybe THAT’s the lure...and the danger of this film – the beauty of Montgomery Clift’s face. (Or maybe it’s just my moral code that’s a bit askew.) His character seems like an unassuming young man. He’s in town to get a promised job from his rich uncle. He’s shown to be the type to work for what he wants; willing to start at the bottom. He’s not looking for something on a silver platter. He doesn’t seem manipulative or calculating. When he meets his rich relatives, they barely hide their condescension. At one point, he’s at the front gate of the “big house” during a party of arriving guests. He wants but has no entry into this world.

It’s kind of amazing through Stevens’ direction how unseen Clift’s George Eastman is. At one point, when he is invited to a big party, in his best blue suit, the camera follows him into the mansion. The butler doesn’t acknowledge him. He’s not greeted by his cousins. No one talks to him. He wafts through conversations with nary a person turning their head. The hoi polloi doesn’t see him. He is alone amidst a crowd of people. He goes off to play pool by himself. He’s unseen until...

Look who does see him when he goes to work at the family business; all the gals on the assembly line. They make with the wolf whistles. Working class women see him. Here, Stevens introduces us to another leg in this triangle: Alice Tripp. Let me give a hand to the great Shelley Winters, who didn’t shy away from unflattering roles. Here, in a nowhere job, she lives alone in a rooming house, goes to the movies alone. A cog in the wheel of life. She’s a nice girl...a nice enough girl. She eases into a relationship, of sorts, with George. They drift together, keeping company. 

Stevens does something interesting when trouble begins for George. He keeps him in the dark: keeps him hidden. He keeps us from seeing him. When George makes his “Valentino” moves on Alice with the help of a loud radio and her living on the ground floor (easy access?), they’re both hidden in the dark and slightly out of frame when he takes her to bed. We see this motif again when George comes over to Alice’s place (finally) to celebrate his birthday after his dizzying night in the arms of an angel. We don’t see either of their faces when she has to tell him she’s in ‘trouble.’ Interesting set-up the way Stevens blocks the scene – he has Shelley’s back to the camera AND her body obscures Monty from our view. Another time he’s in darkness is when Winters goes for that god-awkward doctor’s visit (“I... cannot...help...you”). George waits in the car’s darkness to find out what the doctor can “do” for her. Why is he not seen?

Alice’s desperation is palpable. She demands he marry her. That’s understandable. So why am I not sympathetic to her? I’ve tried several viewings to suss “why” from my psyche. They would have gone on to have a pleasant and unremarkable life together. He would never know what he’d missed out on. But there is that nail in his coffin...and a most beautiful nail it is.

When George is fully and finally SEEN, it’s by an Angel.

To say Elizabeth Taylor is beautiful is quite an understatement. She plays Angela and she is absolutely a ravishing thing of beauty. We see her when George sees her earlier in the movie. He is not registering on her radar, even though she was on his. And since there’s none so blind as those who cannot see, she has not seen him, though he has seen her several times during the movie. It’s him making that pool shot that finally catches her attention. (“Wow!”) She is quite a vision floating into that billiard room in a stunning Edith Head dress (who won an Academy Award for Costume Design), as though she’s on a white chiffon cloud. It’s love at first sight. Instantaneous, magic. 

We can see they’re right for each other. She’s his passport to getting recognized. No no, he’s not using her. His own idea for a cost proposal for his uncle gets him kicked upstairs into an office and out of the factory line. Angela adores him, gives him entree into her world. She takes him by the hand and pulls him out of that lonely room into the party. As they’re embraced in a dance, Angela notes the intrusion of us, the audience in the dark: “Are they watching?” They are dreamy. They are beautiful.

But there IS an intrusion, a very real one, when Alice confronts George with her pregnancy. She stands between him and paradise. Is it murder if you merely wish someone dead? Yes, Monty should do the right thing. Make a clean breast of things. Would he be forgiven? Would he lose everything? The thought of paradise lost is unbearable. I’ve tried to put myself in Alice’s shoes. But it’s heart over head; emotion over logic. Who doesn’t want what they want? Perhaps I struggle because I wonder, how COULD I give up the thing I want most in the world, the thing just within my grasp. Could you?

A PLACE IN THE SUN is a masterpiece of filmmaking, acting and checks all the boxes. But we were set up! I think the movie is a set up for George and for us. Sound is used effectively in this. The loons...the dog’s bark permeating...the radio news of a drowning is itself drowned out by the roar of a speedboat. Franz Waxman’s Academy Award-winning music in this does me in, whether it’s romantic, foreboding or narrating Monty’s inner dilemma. Waxman’s love theme puts me in a trance. William C. Mellor’s cinematography wins him an Academy Award with breathtaking scenes. In the movie, there is a moment in the woods between Monty and a Ranger that stops me as dead in my tracks as it stops George. I can’t even describe HOW it’s lit, but it looks unlike anything else in the movie. I wait for it. William Hornbeck won an Academy Award for Film Editing and the screenplay by Michael Wilson and Harry Brown also won an Oscar.

But I put the onus and blame on George Stevens for breaking my moral code. He set us up for failure by putting the beauty of Monty and Elizabeth in our path. I’m not a bad person...I want to do the right thing by society...one should face consequences for their action. But Monty and Elizabeth together; she holds out all one can dream for and paints a picture of a loving paradise he fears will slip through his fingers.

Now I ask you: is that fair?

[phoneboxfairy]

Love in Quarantine ch 1...

(ao3 link -> https://archiveofourown.org/works/23417971/chapters/56125711)  Okay, the first chapter is pretty light on the smuttiness. But from chapter 2 on...not so much. This is pretty much two horny twenty-somethings spending a week of isolation *really* getting to know each other...enjoy!

It all began on a typical afternoon at the guild. The hall was filled with hustle and bustle, with its occupants fighting, flirting, eating, or reading.

Of course, it’s always the typical days that end up going haywire.

The first sign of trouble was Wendy sneezing then claiming to feel fatigued. She never got sick, usually protected by her sky dragon magic.

This wasn’t a good sign.

“Come, child. Let’s go to Porlyusica’s house before you get any worse.” Carla grabbed her then flew off. This left the rest of the guild shrouded in uncertainty.

What was going on…?

Minutes ticked by, each one seeming like an hour. Lucy tried to read, tried to pay attention to her book, but just couldn’t. Somehow, from across the room, Natsu noticed. He moved away from his fight with Gray mid-punch, walked over to her, put a hand on her shoulder.

“You alright?”

She shook her head.

“Not really. I’m worried about Wendy.”

“She’s a tough kid. She’ll be fine.” Shoulder squeeze. The touch was familiar, comforting. She found herself wanting him to hold her close, wanted to hug away all her fears. Irrational, but honestly Lucy didn’t mind the feeling. She wanted to be close to him...although she wasn’t about to admit it out loud.

Not just yet anyway…

Minutes later the hall door flew open. Porlyusica came rushing in, as close to panic as anyone had ever seen her. She had several words with Makarov, then both got the entire guild’s attention.

“Okay, you brats, this is serious! We need you all to report to the dormitory immediately.” “Wait. Gramps, is Wendy okay?” Natsu shouted, met with similar sentiments from the others.

“She’ll be fine. She has a mild magic bug that could jeopardize the entire town if we’re not careful.”

“Indeed. I have enough antidote to vanquish the bug but I cannot administer it until you are all quarantined. Listen to this old fossil. For once he’s got the right idea.”

There was more clamor as everyone made their way to the dorms behind the hall proper. Luckily the guild’s recent expansion had included building more residential facilities in addition to Fairy Hills.

Nobody could have predicted that they would be used in such a manner, though.

The quarantine itself was initiated fairly easily. Wizards were paired off in each room, typically with a teammate. Then they were given an injection of the antidote. Happy, Carla, and Lily went with Porlyusica to give Wendy some company as she recuperated. Anyone who already had a dorm in Fairy Hills went there, although Lucy couldn’t help noticing that Levy was accompanied by Gajeel and Juvia had somehow convinced Gray to bunker down with her.

One room was left, which meant she was going to be more or less stuck with Natsu for a week, which was how long the antidote took to work. A certain less vocal part of her found the situation appealing.

That didn’t make it any less awkward. Stuck in a room with someone you had growing feelings for but didn’t have the nerve to do anything about it? This could be a nightmare.

Ugh. Well. Better make the best of things. Lucy set her bag down and glanced around the room. It wasn’t huge but it was nice. The kitchen was stocked with enough supplies for the week. The window gave a nice view of the waterfront. A couple comfy chairs, a desk to write at…

...And one full-sized bed. The irony wasn’t lost on her.

There was just one bed...when did my life become a cheesy romance novel?! She shook the thought out of her mind and plopped down on one of the chairs, book in hand, determined to distract herself.

Easier said than done. Natsu, true to form, was working out by the window. From where Lucy was sitting she had the perfect angle to watch his every move as she read.

Talk about a distraction…

At one point she glanced up at him. Their eyes met. He grinned.

“Yo Luce. Let’s spar.”

“What, here?”

“Sure! I won’t even use fire. What d’you say?”

“Alright. Just be careful. We don’t want to destroy the dorm.”

“Deal.” That was that. Lucy took a moment to change into her Taurus form, then they sparred. Both took every opportunity possible to train, but in this case it was just a fun way to pass time.

Being careful didn’t mean taking it easy. Lucy knew that and went after Natsu at full strength. He noticed, grinned, and she forced herself to ignore the fluttering butterflies just south of her tummy.

At one point things took a rather interesting turn. She had him pinned against the wall despite his best efforts to wriggle free. Was he going easy on her? Probably. She knew damn well that he could have knocked her on her ass if he felt like it.

Still, she rather liked feeling like she could kick his ass. She also rather liked how it felt to be pressed up so close to him...although she wasn’t about to admit that out loud at the moment, along with the sudden desire to have him push her up against the wall and…

Whoa, whoa. She stopped that line of thought dead in its tracks, well aware that she was blushing like mad. At least she could shrug it off as a side effect of their sparring.

“Good fight, Luce. We should do that again sometime.” He flashed one of his trademark grins. Lucy couldn’t help agreeing with him. It was fun.

“Definitely. I think I’m gonna go take a shower, though.” If Natsu responded she didn’t see or hear. She grabbed her towel and a change of clothes then headed to the bathroom to wash away the sweat and to clear those intrusive thoughts from her mind. Or try to, anyway.

So I have feelings for my best friend. So what? Natsu’s a great guy. He’ll understand…right? Still, doubt flooded her mind. What if she told him, and what if he shrugged her off…? Well, she would have to figure that out soon.

Once she had toweled off and gotten dressed, she smelled something cooking.

Huh...guess he made himself a snack… She pushed the door open, made her way to the kitchen nook, and there was Natsu eating a bowl of noodles on one of the chairs.

“Hey. Dinner’s on the counter.” “Oh...thanks.”

Lucy grabbed her bowl and they ate together, enjoying the meal as well as relaxed conversation. Then they played games into the night. It felt nice to not have any obligation for a few days. Eventually the game ended. Natsu washed dishes and Lucy lay down in bed with her book. Several minutes later he claimed the spot next to her. She sat bolt upright, trying to keep her heart from racing and the blush from deepening. "What are you doing?" "Uh, laying down because I'm tired. Duh." "I...I...I'm not sure that's a good idea." "Why not? There's room for both of us." He quirked his head. "You okay? You're actin' even weirder than usual." "Me? I...I'm fine. Everything's great." "Nice try. Come on, Lucy. You know you can tell me if something's up." He put his hand on hers, squeezed gently. Such sweet warmth. "It's just that...I like you, and not just as a friend. It feels like we've been more than that for a while...I just, you know, didn't know how to say it. You...you probably think I'm crazy, huh?" "Nah. Come here." He pulled her into his arms, rested his forehead on hers. Grinned. "Everything's better when we're together. Even quarantine, I guess." "Yeah..." She giggled. "Hey Natsu?" "Yeah?" "There's something I want to try, if it's alright." "Okay. Go for it." He looked adorable, his expression a mix of amused and confused. So she blushed, leaned forward, letting her mouth meet his in a gentle kiss. His hands brushed over her waist. Neither seemed too keen on letting go, at least until a need to breathe prevailed. "Wow..." she exhaled. He chuckled. "Still want me to sleep on the floor?" "Nuh-uh. You can stay." With that she slipped out of his arms and lay down. He followed, laying so they were face to face with hands clasped. "So, uh...when was the last time you had a relationship?" "Two years before we met. How about you?" She hadn't expected him to ask, but fair was fair. "Right after I ran away, about a year before I joined the guild. I tried to have a fling after you left, but it didn't feel right." "How so?" "Like, the guy was nice and all, but I couldn't do it." I felt like I was cheating on you, she thought. No way was she going to admit that out loud, though. "That's when I started focusing on getting the guild back together." She yawned, pulled her blanket up around her. She was about to doze off...then Natsu pulled her back into his arms and kissed her forehead. "Huh? Whazzat for?" "Bringin' Fairy Tail back together. Night, Lucy." "Oh...night, Natsu..." The last thing she remembered was feeling his warmth around her, feeling so comfortable in his arms... I could get used to this...

[spaceskam]

Something’s Coming, Something Good

for @andrea-lyn for 12 days of malex ( @malexsanta)! Here’s an absurdly long Austenland au! I hope you enjoy it:) (special thanks to my betas @zuluoscarecho and @pippsmcgee)

ao3

“Michael, this was cute when we were kids, but this has got to stop.”

Michael frowned as he looked around his apartment. He didn’t really see what he had to stop. Sure, he had a particularly strong interest in old fashioned love stories and Jane Austen in particular, but he still had a job and a place of his own. His special interests weren’t destroying his life, so why did he need to stop? Perhaps his place was a little too covered in floral and he had a stack of books a little too high, but that was his own business. And the large cardboard cutouts of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet respectively were just as personal.

“I like it this way,” Michael argued. Maria sighed loudly and gave him that ‘sweetie, no’ look that she gave him a lot. It was basically all she gave him whenever he spoke about anything he was serious about.

“Michael, your obsession is ruining your love life,” Maria said, eyes full of sympathy that he didn’t think he needed. He was fine. “You have these impossible standards for men and women alike and I’m scared that you’re going to keep searching forever for something you won’t find.”

“I don’t think I have impossible standards, I think I’m just not willing to settle for something less than I deserve,” Michael said stubbornly, “I’d rather be alone forever than settle for someone.”

“Okay, that’s not what I meant,” she sighed, sitting beside him, “I just don’t want you to be disappointed all the time. This was the fourth girl you said wasn’t for you in the last few months and it was over something silly.”

“She fake laughed at my jokes that weren’t funny!” he argued, “I don’t want to date a girl who I can never tell if she actually thinks I’m funny or not!”

Maria dropped her face into her palms. It felt like a good time to tell her what he had planned for the next couple of weeks. Well, actually, it felt like a bad time, but when it came to Maria and his fascination with 19th-century romance it was never really a good time.

“And because of my lifelong appreciation,” Michael said, watching Maria slowly peek back up at him, “I’ve decided to go to this place called Austenland.”

Maria blinked very dully at him for almost an entire minute. Michael, on the other hand, was nearly bursting with excitement. He tried to keep it under wraps for her though. If he got too excited, she would get anxious on his behalf all over again.

“Excuse me?”

“Okay, so, it’s this place where you get fully immersed in a Jane Austen experience. Period costume, period events, all that fun stuff. You even get a romance with one of the actors and everything, it has great reviews and I’m just… It’s going to be great, I think,” Michael said, keeping his smile tame even though he’d spent all night watching the introduction video over and over and over. 

“Michael,” Maria said slowly, those pitiful ’sweetie, no’ eyes back in full view, “Michael, how much did that cost?”

He pressed his tongue to his teeth and smiled. “Only, like $10,000.” Maria’s eyes bulged.

“Honey, you cannot do that! That is way too much! That-that’s like ten month’s rent!” she said and Michael just smiled tensely. He knew it was a lot, but, God, it felt worth it. All he wanted was to be immersed in that life‒$10k felt like a small price to pay for a lifelong dream.

“It’ll be okay,” Michael said, “Actually, it’s going to be perfect.”

“Okay, you know what, I support this,” Maria decided, nodding as she put her hands over Michael’s, “I want you to go and get all of this out of your system.”

Michael rolled his eyes but nodded. He couldn’t see the issue with enjoying something with his whole heart. He didn’t need some romance that was less-than when he could have the world. There was nothing wrong with knowing what you wanted and going after it and refusing to settle for less. To him, that sounded more healthy than anything he’d seen anywhere.

“Okay. I will.”

-

“Oh, I didn’t know we were supposed to show up in costume!” 

Michael managed a smile as he looked down at his own period garb and then to the woman before him who was dressed to the nines. In fact, it looked far too extravagant for someone just stepping off a plane, but she gave him a kind smile, so he gave one back.

“Yeah, me neither,” Michael joked, “Are you going to Austenland too?”

“Yes!” she said excitedly, eyes lit up like she was bubbling with joy. It was a nice change from the bleakness and the negativity that surrounded everything else back home. “My name is Isobel… Windsor,” she giggled, “I made it up.” 

Michael chuckled, “I can hear that. I’m Michael.” She shook his hand firmly.

“Ooh, Micahel, fun!” she cheered, clapping happily. He couldn’t help but smile fondly at her. “I’m so excited!” 

“Me too,” he agreed just in time to see a horse-drawn carriage pull up. Excitement began to stir in his bones even more and he helplessly bounced on his toes. 

A woman in expensive period garb that he recognized from the introduction video stepped out, grinning a truly sinister grin. Another girl hopped off the front of the carriage from where she had been driving the horses. She had on an outfit not too unlike a traditional stable boy’s, her long hair braided down her back. Michael couldn’t help but smile at them both.

“Good evening,” Mrs. Pennington said, smiling between the two of them, “I am Mrs. Pennington. How was your flight?”

“Great,” Isobel said. Michael barely opened his mouth, before Mrs. Pennington already began to cut him off.

“And this is Elizabeth. Elizabeth, get their bags,” she instructed, snapping the girl with the braid into place. She grabbed both of their bags and smiled at them. “So, Miss Windsor and‒”

“Oh, about my pseudonym,” Michael began, but Mrs. Pennington just shook her head.

“We already assigned one to you,” she said, “Mr. Gilkes.” Michael blinked a few times and thought about arguing, but chose to smile. No sense arguing over something as silly as that.

“Alright, Gilkes,” he repeated.

“Miss Windsor, you can step into the cab,” she said and then turned to Michael, “Unfortunately, it’s only a two-person cab, you’ll need to sit on the back of the carriage.” Michael took a deep breath, but nodded with a smile. 

Liz came around the back and helped him get all settled on the back and she gave a sugary sweet smile before mouthing ‘don’t mind her’. He nodded curtly and bowed his chin to his chest. He wasn’t going to let something like sitting on the back of a carriage ruin his time.

This is all he’d ever wanted. He was going to have a good time.

-

“We don’t usually have men coming here, Mr. Gilkes, you are a rarity.”

Michael managed a smile as Miss Pennington stood behind a nice, old fashioned desk. Isobel had been holding his hand for some time, squeezing every time she got too overwhelmed with excitement. Michael would squeeze when he got too overwhelmed in general. He squeezed right them.

“I’ve been reading Jane Austen’s novels since I was eight,” he told her, “I really love them. I could recite passages from Pride and Prejudice by the time I was thirteen.”

“How quaint,” she said, standing a bit taller, “Now, we have several different packages. You, Mr. Gilkes, are signed up with the basic, copper package while the women have signed up with the premium, platinum package. I feel it would be in your best interest to upgrade seeing as you will be excluded from some things.”

Michael squeezed Isobel’s hand again. He got the cheapest package?

“I’m alright with the package I got, ma’am,” he said as kindly as he could. Mrs. Pennington stared at him for a moment and then gave a really tight smile that had him questioning if he should really break the already broken bank just so she would stop staring at him like that.

“Alright, well, as you already know, with your stay here, you are promised a romance experience with one of our fine actors to truly reenact a better time when love was pure and untainted,” she said wistfully. Isobel squealed softly and squeezed his hand. Michael stayed quiet and chose not to point out just how common affairs were back then. He felt like it would ruin the mood.

“Oh, Michael, this is going to be wonderful,” Isobel said as she leaned closer to him. He nodded. Even if everything was exactly how he pictured it, he knew that he was signing up to get a truly fantastic experience with a Mr. Darcy type. Or, Elizabeth Bennet. Or anyone, really. That’s all he’s ever really wanted, really. Someone who could both sweep him off his feet and challenge him. Maria didn’t seem to understand that. 

“If you follow me, now, we’ll get you both dressed up before we head towards the main estate,” Mrs. Pennington said. 

They both followed her, Michael being led into one room by a group of stern-looking women and Isobel being led into another. Inside, he was surrounded by men’s clothing ranged from the insanely posh to rags. He genuinely would’ve been happy to play inside that room for days. Hell, if they’d let him, he would’ve enjoyed the women’s clothing for a whole nother day. He wanted to dress in both. Besides, he was very curious to see how he might look in a corset.

Instead, however, he was ushered towards an array of bleak and ragged clothing. He smiled through it all, letting them remove his own outfit and dress him in a loose, billowy white shirt with high waisted breeches to tuck them into. They were paired with uncomfortable shoes that felt a little too snug, but they fit the outfit too well to complain. Michael sat still as they combed his hair, tugging and gelling it to slick back like they wanted. When they showed him a mirror of his curls all tamed, he couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, Michael, you look so cute!” Isobel squealed when the met in the hall. She had on a large blue dress that seemed to have a million layers, her hips looking impossibly wide in it and a nice corset hugging her tightly. Her blonde hair was done up big and probably heavy on top of her head, curls spiraling down around her naturally pretty face that had very faint makeup covering it.

“And you look beautiful,” he said, laughing as she teasingly scoffed and tossed hair over her shoulder. 

They were once again put back on the carriage to head towards the main estate and this time Michael couldn’t find it in him to complain about sitting on the back. It was a never-ending gorgeous view of luscious gardens and woods and carefully tailored, well, everything. There were barns and stables and little sheds and they all looked so accurate. Michael had spent a lot of time studying this period of time and it really felt like he was in the right place. This was where he was meant to be the entire time, truly.

This was his time period.

When they arrived at the main building, he had to pause and take a deep breath. Again, he bounced on his toes and gazed up at all the wonders this week would hold. Just looking at it made it hard to imagine leaving. Couldn’t he just stay right there forever?

“Come along now.”

Micahel and Isobel followed dutifully as they were led into the house and towards their rooms. They went to Isobel’s first, a large room packed with little trinkets and figurines with a massive canopy bed in the middle. It felt like a queen’s room and it seemed very fitting. When she stepped inside, he wondered what she could’ve possibly looked like in a normal house. This seemed to be her space.

Michael was then led down to the servants’ quarters and into a much smaller, less extravagant room. Still, he couldn’t find any complaints in him. It still looked like everything he’d ever wanted. It felt good. If only Maria could see it, she would tease him about just how in his element this happened to be.

“We’ll have dinner in the dining room later,” Mrs. Pennington instructed, “I trust you can find your way.”

He turned to her and tried not to bounce on his toes. He did anyways.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

-

Finding the dining room was much more difficult than anticipated.

He’d found the kitchen first and one of the sour-faced chefs had to boot him in the correct direction. He wasn’t late, though, and that was really all that mattered. He arrived at the door beside Mrs. Pennington at the same time that Isobel did, still looking stunningly gorgeous. She did a little shimmy when she spotted him, raising her eyebrows and sticking the tip of her tongue through her teeth.

Mrs. Pennington opened the doors.

“Good evening everyone, may I introduce our guest of honor?” Mrs. Pennington said, stepping aside to make way for Isobel first. “Miss Isobel Windsor, heiress of the Windsor fortune.”

“Good evening,” one of the men said, standing to be ungodly tall. Michael wished he still had Isobel’s hand to squeeze. Or he wished Maria was here to hug him from behind whenever he got overwhelmed. 

“And this is Mr. Michael Gilkes, an orphan of no fortune who we took in from the kindness of our hearts,” she introduced. Michael smiled through it, ignoring the stabbing feeling he had from hearing his truth on display. But she didn’t know that‒that wasn’t her fault.

“Hi,” Michael said, almost cringing outwardly at how bad that sounded.

“This is Mr. Maxwell Evans,” Mrs. Pennington said, ignoring him, “The fourth son of the Earl of Essex.” He bowed with a curt smile. “And this is my dear nephew, Sir Alexander Manes.”

Michael eyed the man who did nothing more than salute with a single finger. He was genuinely gorgeous, dark hair and tanned skin. His hair seemed just as forcibly tamed as Michael’s and he had a little bit of stubble that dotted across his jaw. Michael wondered if that one was for him.

“And, let us not forget, Lady Jenna Cameron,” Mrs. Pennington said and another very pretty blonde woman stood to greet them. Micahel smiled and nodded to her, suddenly feeling outnumbered. Two beautiful women and two gorgeous men and then… him.

The evening dragged on like that. Mrs. Pennington, Isobel, Jenna, and Maxwell speaking and speaking and speaking while Michael sat out of place and Alexander stuck with his nose stuck in a book. Michael had spent a lot of his life imagining what this would be like and he was ruining it, letting it waste away while he sat awkwardly.

"C'mon, Michael," Isobel pressed as they sat down for dinner, "Say something fancy."

Michael smiled at her and nodded, taking a deep breath as he looked around the table to people making small talk. The only one not engaged in small talk already was Sir Alexander Manes.

"Sir Manes," he said, trying his best not to seem too irritating. The man looked up at him. "I know there's a ball to look forward to at the end of the week. Are you attending?"

"I suppose, though I'm not sure it's something to look forward to," he said. 

Michael gulped softly, "Oh? Why not?" 

"There's something so very ingrained in the human psyche that says we should enjoy social events like that and I disagree," Sir Alexander said, "There's no need for an event that only serves as a place for faux niceties when I can gather whatever from a person like this."

"Like what? A simple first impression?" Michael asked. 

Sir Alexander nodded. "That's all that's needed."

"Well I do hope my first impression of you is incorrect," he said. He licked his lips and looked down after that, hoping it wasn't too obvious that his hands were shaking. That was a very Maria thing to say. He hoped he didn't sound rude. 

Isobel squeezed his hand under the table. When he looked up, he saw Sir Alexander still staring at him.

"Oh, and Michael, are you planning on going to the ball on your own?" Mrs. Pennington asked. He turned to face her, seeing a simple tight smile on her face.

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, I know you've failed at love in the past," she said. Isobel squeezed his hand as he just stared at her. “I mean, how sad is it that you’re nearly 30 and haven’t had a single romantic relationship?”

Michael looked around the table and found a mix of snickering and pitiful faces. It felt like dinner back home all over again‒full of disappointment for Michael’s love life. Great. Beautiful. Pushing through it all, Michael smiled.

“If you’ll excuse me,” he said softly, pushing himself out of the chair and walking into the halls.

He considered escaping back to his room but reaffirmed in his mind that he couldn’t let it ruin his night. Instead, he decided to go exploring. He wanted to truly revel in this old house and just play pretend for a little while. Maybe he was unlucky in love, but so what? He didn’t need a person when he had a whole world to explore.

Michael wandered around, managing not to run into a single person as he did so. It made him feel at ease. He considered that maybe he should’ve just rented an old house with the money he spent here and spent a few nights pretending he was Dorian Grey or something. Well, not Dorian Grey‒just maybe as beautiful and lucky as him.

About an hour of wandering led him to the ballroom. Michael grinned as he walked into it, closing his eyes as he breathed it in. It reminded him of when he had a girlfriend for about a month back in high school whose mother made her go to cotillion and he had to escort her to her coming-out party. He’d enjoyed it so much that she had dumped him, but still.

He slowly started doing the waltz alone, murmuring a rhythmic one-two-three under his breath. It wasn't too unlike what he did in the privacy of his own house, but this time he had the extra benefit of the way his shoes sounded on a real ballroom floor. It made him feel at home.

Until a voice broke his peace.

"Are you having fun, Mr. Gilkes?" Sir Alexander asked. Michael stumbled to a stop, staring towards the doorway with wide eyes. He was leaning against the doorway, nothing but amusement on his face. Michael couldn't find words. He tried to think of what Maria would say, but somehow 'more fun than I would ever with you' sounded unwarranted. "I still can't believe people actually pay money to come here. Do you actually enjoy this place?" 

Michael blinked a few times, still not knowing what to say.

"You don't speak much, do you? You know that's considered rude in many social circles," he said, stepping further into the ballroom with that smile still on his face and a cane in hand, "And then when you do speak, that in itself feels rather brash."

"Is the cane there to make you look more full of yourself?" Michael asked and then nearly retreated into his body. Why did he have to say that of all things? Thankfully, Alexander just smiled.

"Probably," he answered, but tapped the edge of the cane against his leg and Michael knew his face paled at the hollow sound it made.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean–"

"You said what you were thinking," Sir Alexander said, "So you meant it."

Michael stood there and took a deep breath, waiting for his payback for that stupid, stupid sentence to come. Why did he always speak before he thought?

“Nonetheless, you didn’t deserve to be called out. There’s no shame in taking a while to fall in love or never falling in love at all,” he said, tapping his cane on the ballroom floor. Michael gave a single nod and wished he would leave so he could stop this never-ending cycle of embarrassment. “Felt you should at least hear that.”

Alexander walked away before Michael could construct a response.

-

“Don’t worry, darling, I’ve got you.”

Michael clutched his sketchbook behind his back as they walked around the gardens. It was nearly impossible not to take note of how Jenna was hooked onto Maxwell’s arm and Isobel was hooked onto Alexander’s and he was hooked onto absolutely no one. He wasn’t even jealous as much as he was irritated. This didn’t feel very fair.

Maxwell helped Jenna step up beside a fountain and she gave him a kind smile and Michael took that as his cue to escape. He’d learned very quickly that if he third wheeled, he did something stupid or annoying that ruined it for everyone. Like that time Maria was about to get her first kiss at the movies and he reached between them to steal a twizzler. 

He let them get lost in themselves for a moment before quickly taking a step back. Then he took another step back and soon he was out of the garden altogether. Michael very quickly wandered towards the barn that was close by and collapsed into a mound of hay. 

“Excuse you, this definitely qualifies as cramping my style.”

Michael scrambled to a sitting position and peered over to the other side of the mound and found Elizabeth sitting there with a pile of hay on her head and her book in her lap. He gave her a sorry smile.

“I didn’t see you there, I’m sorry,” he said. She just giggled and shook the hay off her head. Her hair was in a braid once again and she was still the only woman on the grounds who was wearing pants rather than a dress.

“You’re fine,” she promised, smiling in a way that lit up her whole face. Michael reached over to pick a few strands of hay from her hair. “Needed an escape?”

“I guess,” he said. She scooted closer to his side of the hay bail. “I’m not even really supposed to be out here. Mrs. Pennington is probably going to be really irritated with me for running off.”

“Maybe so, maybe not. I’m sure she’s not really keeping tabs,” Elizabeth tried. Micahel huffed a breath and plucked the last bit of hay from her hair.

“Hopefully. ‘M Michael, by the way. I know she said your name was Elizabeth.” 

“Yeah, but call me Liz.” 

Michael nodded curtly. “Alright, Liz.”

Michael leaned back into the hay, letting out a slow breath and closing his eyes. He needed a break. And a phone, perhaps, to vent to Maria. This was the longest he’d gone without her in some way and it was making him anxious.

“Not to insult you or anything,” Liz said, swinging her knee to bump his, “But you paid a fuck ton of money to enjoy the fancy shit and you’re sitting in a barn.”

Michael quirked a smirk and looked over to her. She was easier to talk to than the rest of them. It helped that she wasn’t as fancy.

“Honestly, I thought I would be better at all this. I spent so much time studying the time period and wishing I was there, but turns out I’m just as bad here as I am at my own time,” he sighed. She leaned in close and raised her eyebrows.

“Maybe you just need something a little more your speed.”

-

“I disagree that this is my speed.”

“Hush,” Liz laughed, handing him a bow and an arrow.

Michael looked over beside him to see Maxwell guiding Jenna to shoot her arrow semi-towards the target and then Alexander was helping Isobel shoot it directly at the bullseye. Isobel saw him looking and then gave him a very hyperactive thumbs up. He nodded back and then looked back to Liz. He could do this.

“Come here,” Liz urged, sidling up behind him despite being much shorter. Maria didn’t have to be present for him to hear her teasing him. 

She placed her hands on his hips, turning them to some probably specific angle and put her lips by his ear. He looked over at her and felt a bit jittery at how long her eyelashes were and the fact that she was all pressed up against him. Then he remembered it was probably bad to be jittery whenever you had an arrow in your hand.

“So you’re gonna pull it back with three fingers,” she whispered, “Balance your weight. Keep your back straight and push your hips forward just a little.” He gulped when she pressed into him to guide his hips. “Steady and… release.”

It flew and flew and flew straight into the ground about four feet in front of him.

Liz let out a sweet little laugh, “Well, let’s try that again.” Michael nodded and couldn’t really take his eyes off her for a moment.  Yeah, sure, he failed, but he failed at a lot of things and most of those things didn’t involve a pretty girl pressing up against him.

“Do you need me to teach him or are you just messing around?” Sir Alexander asked suddenly which made Michael’s eyes very reluctantly move away from Liz. Alexander was staring at them with a look very similar to when Michael had rudely said he made a shitty first impression.

Michael just stared back.

“No, I’ve got it,” Liz said and Michael felt that fuzzy feeling return as she grabbed his hips again.

It took a few shots, but Liz eventually got him to hit the target. Maybe not the bullseye, but it hit the target and it got him squeezed by Liz and that made it a million times worth it. 

“Maybe you’ll be better with the horses?” Liz suggested as they started walking towards the stables. He had a permanent smile etched onto his face as he watched her.

“Yeah, maybe.”

He did not.

Michael spent about twenty minutes attempting to get on his horse. Poor thing probably got kicked in the side a million times and Michael would take a second each time to apologize. He would say sorry and pat her on the nose before he tried to climb onto her again and then would promptly kick her in the side again. In all that time, everyone else had managed to go so far with their own horse that they were completely out of sight. Anxiety built in his stomach and he moved to the horse’s face.

“Hi,” he said, giving her his best smile, “I know I’m really bad at this, I know, but… can we just do this one thing together? Maybe you could bend down? Is that bad for your legs? Don’t do it if it’s bad for your legs. You know, I heard that running upstairs is really bad for your legs and that scene in Game of Thrones when Jamie ran up the steps on a horse was probably actual hell on that horse, so...  I am rambling to a horse.” Michael sighed and pet her face as she just huffed in his direction. “Could we make a deal? Just let me ride you long enough to get back and I’ll never kick you again.”

Michael really did think they were on the same page, so when she responded by running away, he was a little more than irritated.

“Come back!” he called, trying to run after her, but there wasn’t much to do. Chasing after a horse was basically pointless.

This really was not his day. Or week. Or month. Or year. Maybe Friends was right.

It took a few seconds for Michael to rationalize that he was going to be stuck on foot. Which was fine, he’d definitely experienced worse in life. Walking through a field and some woods wasn’t going to be the end of the world. So, he started trekking after them. He knew he’d probably get there well past when everyone else did, but that was fine. Truly, he needed a good walk in silence. Maybe the horse sensed that and gave him what he was desperately needing. What a kind horse.

Only when it started pouring rain did Michael consider that maybe this just really wasn’t meant to happen. He’d only been there for two days and it had gone about as smoothly as riding a unicycle over gravel. If he hadn’t paid so much money, he probably would’ve just got on a plane and gone home. Maybe Maria would be down for a pity round of rom-coms and popcorn. That sounded better than anything that was happening to him here.

“Mr. Gilkes, did everyone abandon you?”

Michael whipped around to see Sir Alexander riding towards him on his big white horse. He had a smile on his face despite the rain and despite the fact that Michael's hair had completely come untamed and was starting to curl hectically and despite it being too cold to be walking or riding in the rain. Michael could only take it as mocking.

“I’m fine,” he answered. He didn’t like being mocked, he got enough of that in every other goddamn aspect of his shitty life.

“You aren’t, it’s raining and even your horse abandoned you,” Alexander said. He dismounted the horse with a shocking amount of grace for a man who had only one leg. Michael wondered how long he practiced that.

“I can just walk, it’s fine,” Michael insisted. Alexander shook his head.

“What kind of man would I be if I left you lost in the woods while it was raining? I’m not evil,” he chuckled, gesturing towards the horse, “Come on.”

“Well, see, I don’t think we can both get on one horse because I-I don’t, I can’t, and your leg, like‒”

“It’s fine,” Alexander insisted and then suddenly Michael was being lifted onto the horse.

“Oh my‒” he gasped and Alexander just laughed, helping him swing his leg to the other side so he was straddling the horse.

“Now scoot forward,” he said and Michael tried to while Alexander helped push him a bit. Then Michael tried not to have a heart attack when he climbed up behind him.

“Sorry,” Michael mumbled, putting all his focus into keeping from doing anything stupid. Sir Alexander laughed behind him.

“Sorry for what?” When Michael didn’t answer, he added a simple, “I’ve ridden horses since I was a kid, I’ve got you.”

Michael’s face flushed and he nodded. For a moment, he tried to figure out which Maria would tease him for more: Liz pressing up against him to shoot arrows or Alexander lifting him onto a horse and pressing up against him on the horse. He could hear her voice in his mind, ‘Oh, Sir Alexander, what big strong arms you have!’ and then Michael would say, ‘you’re embarrassing me, he’s going to throw me off the horse’ and then Maria would say, ‘no, he won’t, he’s trying to get serious dick’ and then Michael would say, ‘oh my God!’. 

Though, he would admit that he liked being held from behind by a guy strong enough to lift him onto a horse.

When they got back to the stables, Alex helped him down and then led the horse away without another word. Michael went inside and tried to figure out if he was embarrassed about what happened or not.

He chose not to be.

-

“It’s rude for a gentleman to doodle the entire evening, Mr. Gilkes.”

Michael blinked a few times as he looked up to where Mrs. Pennington was all but glaring him to death. He licked his lips and looked around. There wasn’t really anyone to talk to. Sure, Isobel would quickly pull him into the conversation if need be, but she seemed to be trying really hard to seem interested in forcing Sir Alexander to talk about his book. Jenna, who was nice enough, seemed to enjoy the overwhelming attention she was receiving from Maxwell. Then Mrs. Pennington was focusing quite hard on her needlepoint when she wasn’t trying to send daggers into his head with a single look.

“Right,” Michael said, peering down at his sketchbook and then back to Mrs. Pennington, “Men should be outside doing… manly things.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and Micahel was pretty sure everyone else was looking at him too. Which made sense. They were all doing their period things and Michael had come here to also do period things, but instead, he was just drawing pictures of a boy who was acting and thinking of a girl who wore pants in a time where she shouldn’t.

He suddenly had a very strong urge to go find that girl. She probably wouldn’t be staring at him like everyone in this room was.

“I’ll go… do manly things.”

Michael excused himself and very quickly made his way outside. He didn’t exactly know where to find her, but he was sure that he could find her and that he would be able to make it seem like he found her by happenstance and not that he was being creepy. The last thing he wanted was to be super creepy towards her. She’d been the only one who hadn’t made him feel completely out of place here. It reminded him of summer camp whenever he hung out with the camp counselor the whole time because he couldn’t seem to make any friends that like was supposed to. 

He eventually heard the faint sound of Dancing Queen by ABBA summoning him towards a tiny shed and decided that was a good place to start. Even if it wasn’t Liz, it was obviously someone infinitely better than anyone inside the house. So, he knocked.

The music stopped and he heard some quick stomping inside that made him smile. When the door flew open, Liz stood there with her braid undone and legs bare with only a long, billowy period-shirt. He smiled childishly large at her and she reciprocated it.

“Hello, Mr. Gilkes,” she said, “What brings you my way?”

“I was just wandering and I heard the music, thought I’d come see what’s going on,” he said, keeping his eyes on hers and hoping beyond hope that she’d invite him inside. He needed to be around someone like her for a little while. She reminded him of Maria in all the ways that he needed.

“Ah, well, I know it’s technically inappropriate for a man and a woman to be alone together,” Liz said, shaking her head teasingly, “But… you wanna come in?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Michael stepped up into the tiny little shed and saw that it was basically functioning as her bedroom. It was quaint and homey and modern and it made him relax a bit. Liz made no move to put on pants or tame her crimped, frizzy hair and she still looked insanely gorgeous. Honestly, nearly everyone here was gorgeous. Was that a requirement?

“How do you feel about an ABBA dancing session?” she asked.

“I feel like it’s exactly what I need.”

Whenever Michael and Maria were teenagers and he either slept in his truck or on her bedroom floor, his only release from hell was blaring Queen and ABBA while he and Maria danced around the room. It was hard to be sad whenever Freddie Mercury was boosting you up and how could they possibly be stressed about life whenever they decided to perform an entire production of Mamma Mia! with just the two of them. And now, how could he be upset about awkwardly being a third or fifth wheel whenever he was jumping around and singing Money, Money, Money with a girl who was this stunning?

They danced through a few songs until they ran out of breath and collapsed onto the little futon in the corner in a pile of laughter. It was the best Michael had felt in days and it actually had nothing to do with the amount of skin he could see of hers. That was just a bonus.

“I’m sorry, by the way,” Liz said after they caught their breath, “For yesterday. I should’ve stuck around in case the horse decided to abandon you. That was my bad.”

“Nah, it’s okay,” Michael said, waving it off, “I said I could do it. I just didn’t wanna ask for help. And then Mr. Perfect strolled up to save the day. Still not sure how to feel about it.” Liz snorted a laugh.

“Between you and me, the actors are paid to be perfect, you can’t really hold it against them,” Liz explained, turning to face him completely. For a moment, he considered touching her, but he didn’t. It felt too out of place. “But Alex is sweet, so he probably just genuinely wanted to help.”

Michael gave her a skeptical look. “Sweet? He always looks mildly to extremely irritated with my general existence.”

“Yeah,” she laughed, “I think that’s just his face though.”

Michael chuckled along with her for a moment and then they quieted down and just looked at each other. Maria would really like her. He could see the three of them hanging out and bingeing silly romcoms together. If he got anything from this trip, he hoped he’d gained her friendship.

“You think we could play another song? I didn’t realize how much I’d miss music being here,” he admitted. Liz flashed a big smile.

“Absolutely,” she said and stood up. She walked over to her phone and typed for a second and then the opening to Lay All Your Love On Me started playing and Michael was on his feet. That was easily a favorite of his. There was something about it that felt so unabashedly freeing even when it was literally about being possessive.

They started jumping around again, dancing closer and closer until she was touching him and he was touching her. She was a lot shorter than him, but it didn’t take away the charm of having her move against him as she held onto his hands. He barely noticed when they stopped moving.

He did notice when his forehead touched hers.

“You know,” she whispered, her eyes flickering down to his lips. He tried not to get excited. “We probably shouldn’t be doing this.”

Michael moved away instantly. “You’re right, I’m sorry for being so forward.” 

Liz rolled her eyes.“Don’t be silly, I like your forwardness. It isn’t there that often, but I like it,” she said. He chewed on his bottom lip and it was the only thing keeping him from smiling. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I think I can arrange that,” he said. She giggled and shooed him out the door.

He felt much better.

-

“Jesus, you are way too good at that.”

Michael let Isobel lean over his shoulder to get a better look at his needlepoint. He found it wasn’t too hard if you didn’t think too much about it. Whenever he looked to hers, though, he saw that she should’ve probably thought a little harder.

“Isobel, what is that?” he laughed. Jenna leaned over to see the monstrosity Isobel was creating. She quickly joined in on the laughter.

“Is it Cthulu himself?” she asked which had them all laughing harder.

Isobel tried to pout as she held it out in front of them. “No, it’s supposed to be an elephant.”

“An elephant?” Jenna nearly cackled, “From what planet?”

“Ours!” Isobel whined, but it was quickly cut off by infectious giggling, “Listen, we can’t all be Michael.”

“You don’t want to be me,” Micahel said, shaking his head as he put his needlepoint in his lap, “That’s basically the only thing I’ve done right since I’ve been here.” 

“Oh c’mon, you can’t let Mrs. Bitchington ruin your time here,” Jenna said encouragingly. Michael shrugged.

“It’s not just her,” he admitted. Isobel grabbed his hand and he immediately calmed down a bit. She had a magic touch sometimes. One squeeze and a weight would lift off his shoulders.

“You know, I feel pretty shitty about the way she excludes you all the time. I still can’t figure out why,” Isobel admitted. Michael had an idea about why, but he chose to shrug. “You want to be here more than either of us do. It’s just not fair.”

“Do I?” he asked. He’d been under the impression that they were both as excited about it as he was. Or at least Isobel since she was the one who always seemed so eager to play along and engage Sir Alexander in conversation.

“My husband is super rich,” Isobel admitted, “He’ll basically pay for me to do anything if it means getting out of his hair.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Isobel said, waving him off, “It doesn’t bother me. It means I can do whatever including coming to this super fun place.” 

“Not sure if fun’s the right word,” Jenna mumbled before clearing her throat, “It’s not the worst, but… I don’t know, I’m trying to enjoy it. It’s just not my type of thing, you know.”

“Why’d you come then?” Michael asked. Jenna sighed and leaned back into the uncomfortable sofa.

“My sister loves this stuff,” she began, pulling loosely at the thick fabric of her dress, “She always wanted to come and she planned to one day. But, uh, then she got sick and now she can’t come, so she forced me to so she could live vicariously through me.”

“Man, you’re a good person,” Isobel huffed, “I don’t think I could do something I didn’t want to do just for my sibling.” 

“Really? I think I could do something insane for my best friend if she wanted me to because she couldn’t,” Michael said decidedly. He, in fact, had done a lot for Maria and she had done a lot for him. If she wanted him to do something crazy that he didn’t want to, he was sure he could do it for her.

“Still, it’s really sweet of you,” Isobel said, nudging Michael. She had that heartfelt smile on her face though and he felt warm inside. “But, if we’re gonna talk about Mrs. Bitchington, I find it super weird that it’s always the three of us and then two of them. Like, that’s so unfair.”

“It is unfair,” Jenna agreed, “I mean, apart of this whole thing is a romance, right? Where’s your romance?”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind,” Michael said, but his mind immediately jumped to Liz. He hadn’t seen her since the night prior and she was still hovering around his brain. He was eager to see her again and the more he thought about it, the more he itched to get away.

“I know that face,” Isobel said.

“What face?” Michael asked. She gave him a distinctly Isobel expression that he hadn’t actually seen on anyone else and he was struggling to decide what, exactly, it meant.

“That one,” she said, circling his head with her finger. Jenna chuckled beside him. “The one a boy gets when he’s thinking about a girl.”

“Okay, so maybe I’m thinking about a girl,” Michael agreed. Isobel’s eyes lit up.

“Is that girl around?” When he didn’t answer, she shoved his shoulder. “Michael! Go find the girl!”

Michael didn’t want to say no, so he didn’t.

Wandering around outside, it wasn’t hard to find Liz sitting on the bank of the little lake that wasn’t too far behind the house. He plopped down beside her and focused on his sketchbook. Or, pretended to be focused on his sketchbook even though he was very aware of the way she leaned closer and how she was smiling at him.

“Are you supposed to be out here?” she asked. He scribbled in the weaves of her braid that he happened to be drawing, trying to seem busy.

“I’m drawing.”

“You’re supposed to be inside,” she teased. He licked his lips and tried his best to channel his inner Maria. He looked over to her and grinned, letting his eyes trail up and down her. 

“I mean… I don’t have to be drawing.” Liz’s eyes went wide and she giggled, shoving his shoulder gently. “No, but I’m tired of being cooped up in there and playing third wheel all the time. Show me around, Liz, please?”

“How very scandalous,” she mused, “Didn’t you pay to be cooped up?”

Michael gave an exaggerated frown and kicked her foot. Her nose scrunched up and she looked so cute he thought about kissing her right then. He didn’t, though Maria would’ve been proud if he had.

“You’re right,” he sighed dramatically, “I guess I’m going to go be all bored and alone somewhere with no WiFi.”

He pushed off the ground and went to stand up, but Liz quickly grabbed his arm. He hit the ground again and barely had any time to adjust before there was a small hand at the back of his neck and lips on his. He melted into it, letting her set the pace and the boundaries. It was a good kiss. She was a good kisser.

And it was the first kiss he’d had in over two years and kisses were nice.

“Are you sure you can sneak around with me today?” she asked as she pulled away. He realized that, for at least the next couple hours, he was completely at her beck and call. And he was completely okay with that.

“Yes,” he said, “Absolutely.”

Liz stood first and grabbed his hands, tugging him up onto his feet. He smiled down at her when he got there and felt that strong urge to kiss her again. He didn’t really get the chance to even say that before she was on her toes, their noses smushing together as well as their mouths and his heart was slamming in his chest. He missed kissing someone.

“If you stay right here, I’ll go swipe us some lunch from the kitchen,” she said against his lips. He nodded dumbly.

Michael watched as she ran towards the house, impressively light on her feet. His first instinct was to call Maria, to tell her he actually kissed someone, but he knew he couldn’t. He just had to revel in it by himself which, honestly, was a lot to handle. He managed to do it if only so he didn’t embarrass himself in front of Liz.

She returned with a picnic basket in her hands and a mischievous glint in her eye.

Liz led him away from the lake and towards the back garden that he hadn’t actually been to yet. It was secluded and she laid out a blanket before laying on it herself. Staring at her with the sun on her face and the clothes she wore made Michael crave the idea of stealing one of the dresses they had and fixing his hair up like women did back in the day. He wanted to layout in the garden in one and he wanted to feel pretty. He wanted to feel pretty and be kissed senselessly for it and be told things poetically that had his mind reeling.

That wasn’t an option, so he just laid beside her instead.

They spent at least two hours talking and laughing and feeding each other and discussing their lives outside of this place. Liz explained it was a summer job she took on and that for most parts of the year she worked on her Ph.D. in biomedicine. Michael tried not to feel too much less than when he said he was an English teacher at a middle school.

When they weren’t speaking, they were kissing and Michael decided he could get used to being kissed all the time. He honestly didn’t think it mattered who or where, as long as he was being kissed and felt like he wasn’t unwantable. Well, actually, he was fine with being unwantable in most aspects of his life, but if he could kiss for a few minutes a day with a stranger, that sounded fine.

“Mmm, you should probably go back inside,” Liz said eventually. Michael sighed pathetically and pouted.

“I really don’t want to.”

“I really think you should.”

She ran a hand through his hair, tucking the already gelled strands behind his ear. She gave him one last kiss before she started folding up the picnic blanket. 

“So, can I see you tomorrow?” Michael asked. She grinned and nodded.

“You can count on it.”

He started making his way back towards the house, working on taming the smile on his face. The last thing he needed was Mrs. Pennington gaining another reason to be irritated with him. He was just fine with the current reasons.

Except, when he got back, the only person waiting around and looking irritated was Sir Alexander.

-

“Good news!”

Michael looked up from his plate at Mrs. Pennington’s announcement. She was beaming in a way that Michael felt was almost sinister. He wondered if he could get away with sneaking back out to find Liz if only so he wouldn’t have to see Mrs. Pennington do… that.

“Mr. Kyle Valenti will be joining us for the remainder of our time here!” she announced.

As if one cue‒most likely actually on cue‒a man burst in through the doors with an air of importance. He was actually gorgeous with a chiseled face and an easy smirk. His cheeks were stubbly, but it worked almost too well and Michael’s mind scrambled. He’d seen attractive men before‒hell, Sir Alexander was a force to be reckoned with‒but this man knew he was attractive and therefore carried himself to make it even more so. Confidence itself was no match for him.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his words coming out as natural as breathing.

Isobel kicked Michael beneath the table. He tore his attention from Mr. Valenti to look at her. Her eyes were wide with excitement, her smile so big that her teeth were showing. She was interested. Which made sense‒they were both beautiful enough to be models. Michael gave her a quick little thumbs up.

“And who might you be?”

It took Michael a moment to realize that basically everyone had been introduced to Mr. Valenti except for him and that he was sitting beside him and that he was leaning all close. He had to blink a few times to catch up with what he had clearly missed. When did that happen? 

“Oh, um, Michael. Michael Gue- Gilkes,” he fumbled. Mr. Valenti grinned and grabbed his hand, kissing it once and then a few more times.

“It’s a pleasure to meet someone who graces the Earth with such beauty, Mr. Gilkes,” he said and Michael gulped. What the fuck was happening?

“Oh, thanks, you too,” Michael fumbled. Mr. Valenti chuckled and Isobel gave Michael a look that said ‘damn, look at you’.

Dinner went on with the new addition, only Michael was no longer left out of the conversation. Not that he typically minded being in his own headspace, but he was here to experience everything. Mr. Valenti made sure that he was constantly being talked to, showering him in attention. Every extensive ramble would end with, “And what do you think of that, Mr. Gilkes?”, and Michael would have to answer. It was overwhelming and alluring all at the same time.

When dinner began to wind down and they went to the sitting room, Michael felt like he was in a haze. This is what it was supposed to feel like. He was supposed to be fuzzy and flattered. That was the whole point of this entire trip. He couldn’t wait to go home to Maria and gush about all the attention he was getting, even if it was all acting.

“So, there I was, and there was a bear,” Mr. Valenti explained, standing up in the sitting room as he told his story. Michael mimicked the way Isobel had looked at Sir Alexander and the way Maxwell looked at Jenna, that wide-eyed interested look. He seemed to feed on it. “And he came towards me! Running, growling‒I had to act fast.”

“Bears don’t attack unless provoked,” Sir Alexander said, voice dull with disinterest as it had been every time he spoke this evening. Which was very little.

Mr. Valenti glanced at him for a moment. “This one did.”

“Unlikely. Unless it was a mother and you got too close to her baby,” he said, then paused, “Or this entire story is bullshit which feels more accurate than anything.”

Mrs. Pennington gasped at his language, looking over at him with overly mothering eyes. Sir Alexander just stared back with a face that said ‘what?’. She tilted her head and he took a deep breath, looking away.

“I need a different book,” he said, standing with his cane in hand. He spared Michael a glance before not-so-subtly hitting Mr. Valenti with his cane. Michael tried not to smile because that wasn’t nice.

But the look Sir Alexander gave him was.

Still, Michael was quite sure Mr. Valenti was there to be his romance and he would at least give Mr. Valenti the attention he so clearly wanted. It wasn’t until much later when he ran into Liz in the hall outside the kitchen that he realized maybe he shouldn’t have been so eager to play along.

“Oh, you look normal. I thought you would never get that ‘oh, sir’ look off your face,” she teased. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he tried to gauge if she was mad at him or not. She didn’t seem mad, but most people weren’t too happy when they saw you flirt with someone else after making out with them.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Liz rolled her eyes.

“It’s okay, you aren’t required to be attracted to women,” she said, leaning against the wall with that fond expression on her face. Michael blinked dumbly.

“No,” he said, “I am, I just… have a broad taste.” Bisexual didn’t sound like a very early-1800s thing to say, but the fact that he didn’t say it made him feel kind of stupid too. He bowed his head and heard her little giggle in response. He didn’t realize how tense he was until she smoothed her hand over his shoulder to make him relax.

“Are you having fun being doused in manly attention?” she asked, nose scrunched up as if she knew she was slamming the ’make him blush’ button.

“You aren’t upset with me?” he whispered. Liz scoffed, her hand moving to his cheek.

“Michael, we just kissed a little, I’m not your keeper and I don’t think you feel like I am. Go! Swoon over all the sexy ass guys that you literally came here to be courted by,” she insisted, “Don’t be ashamed of wanting that‒that’s the opposite of the point. You’re supposed to be proposed to by the end of the story, aren’t you?”

Michael nodded and breathed slowly, quietly thanking her with the tilt of his head. She slipped her hand into his hair and tugged him closer.

“Get up in the morning, dress nice, do your hair how you want, and make them all stare. Stop being scared when you’re here to be someone else,” she whispered, ending it with a firm kiss to his lips. 

He went to bed with a plan to do just that.

-

“Can I speak to you for a moment, Mr. Gilkes?”

Michael would be lying if he said he wasn’t shocked to see Isobel and Jenna outside his bedroom door. While they were friends and very friendly, they never really came down to the servants quarters where he’d been set up.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, moving to let her in. The moment they were behind closed doors, Isobel gave a big wild smile that was a whole lot more Isobel than the structured sentence she had greeted him with.

“Me and Kyle started talking last night,” she said, so giddy that he grinned right back.

“Oh yeah?” he asked. Jenna just smiled and shook her head.

“Yes!” Isobel said, giggling, “I really like him, so… I was wondering how you’d feel about possibly switching.”

“Switching?” he repeated, looking between the two women.

“Yes, you get Sir Alexander and I get Mr. Valenti.”

“Or Maxwell, if you want,” Jenna added, “I don’t really mind.”

Michael blinked a few times and tried to order things in his head. They only had about half a week left here and they were all so ready to switch. That wasn’t a part of the story. However, he didn’t want to ruin her time here. She was actually enjoying it and Michael was having fun with Liz… even if she had just told him to get showered by male affection. It was fine. So, he nodded.

“Sure, I’ll take Alexander,” he said. He was the most attractive of them all, in his opinion. Even if he was sort of a dick who Michael clearly annoyed.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Isobel asked. He nodded.

“Of course not, go be happy.”

-

“I have a fun little task for you all!”

Michael nearly sighed when Mrs. Pennington announced that. He found that the best way to enjoy this place now that Isobel had asked for Mr. Valenti was to quietly sit beside Sir Alexander and sketch while he read. He wouldn’t say it was accurate bonding time, but it had resulted in some of the calmest moments he’d had since he arrived. He was pretty content on doing that until the ball where Sir Alexander would probably propose to him even though they’d done nothing but annoy each other at the least.

“I have written a play that I would like you all to star in!” Mrs. Pennington said cheerily. Isobel, Kyle, and Maxwell all made sounds of intrigue, Michael and Jenna managed a smile, and Sir Alexander…

“Absolutely not,” he said. She gave him that motherly look like she did quite often. “No, I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, you are, so split into pairs,” Mrs. Pennington pushed. Alexander scoffed, dropping his head into his hand. Michael eyed him for a moment. It felt ungodly disrespectful. He almost smiled. “Ladies choice?”

“I guess we can be a pair, Mr. Evans,” Jenna said. He grinned with what could only be described as heart eyes.

“And, Mr. Valenti, I would enjoy your company,” Isobel said. Kyle looked supremely excited about that. Which left Michael to be paired with Alexander, which was expected since Isobel had asked him to switch suitors. Still, it felt weird. He kept replaying that moment in his mind where he insulted his cane only to realize he had a false leg.

“I guess that leaves us, Sir Alexander,” he said. Alexander picked up his head and looked at him, nodding with a sigh. He looked extremely disinterested in the entire prospect. Michael understood because he wasn’t really keen on the whole thing either.

Still, Mrs. Pennington pushed them to go run lines.

Michael found himself walking through the garden with a man who probably hated walking through the garden with his cane. It added an extra layer of guilt to the whole situation.

“I’m sorry about this, Sir Alexander,” Michael said, holding back a tree branch so it wouldn’t hit the man, “I’ll do my best not to annoy you.”

“You don’t annoy me,” he said almost before Michael finished speaking, “You make me nervous.” Michael froze for a moment and blinked at the man who walked past him. “And call me Alex.”

Michael watched him continue to walk and mulled over his words. Oh, he thought after a moment, this is the pairing I was supposed to have. He cleared his throat and ruffled his hair in hopes that his curls looked alright. Mrs. Pennington had given him a look from hell when she saw it. But, hey, he looked better and Liz had said to enjoy himself and look good. And he was going to look good for the guy he was supposed to be paired with.

“So, you like horses?” Michael said as he followed Alex towards the bench he was sitting at. Alex huffed a laugh and nodded, straightening out the leg with the prosthetic. Michael eyed it for a moment before he realized he was probably being extremely rude. When he looked up, Alex didn’t seem to mind.

“When I was first starting PT, they asked me to decide on a goal-- what I wanted to be able to do again-- and focus on it. I chose horseback riding,” Alex admitted, “It’s the only reason I was able to save you the other day, so… you’re welcome.”

“Thank you,” Michael said, sitting beside him, “That’s really impressive.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Alex said, shaking his head. When he looked towards Michael, the fact that they were always intended to be paired made even more sense. “Can I ask you a question? Why did you come to this place?”

Michael chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know. I really enjoy everything about the time period‒well, most things about the time period. I like the dramatics of it all.”

“Really? I think the only thing I like is the simplicity. It’s so easy to just exist in a place that feels cut off,” Alex admitted. Okay, this was easy. Holding a conversation with him was easy.

“Absolutely. And the clothing is super fun,” Michael added, nodding towards the proper garb Alex had on. Michael’s was loose and peasant-y, but it was still comfy and simple.

“And it’s quiet. Super quiet. No constant noise like it is everywhere else,” he said and Michael again agreed. He lived in an apartment, quietness was a virtue.

“And,” Michael said, pausing for a moment as he tried to build up his inner Maria. He could be ballsy too, “The men.”

Alex stared at him and a slow smile slinked onto his face. It was world-altering. It was a very comforting thing to see and Michael had to wonder why he didn’t do it more often. He should do it all the time.

“The men,” Alex echoed.

Michael breathed slowly as they stared at each other for a moment. He could feel his cheeks heating up and his mind swim frantically as he tried to think of something to say so he didn’t sound stupid. He found himself desperately trying not to embarrass himself that he hadn’t even felt around Liz. Well, he always wanted to avoid embarrassing himself, but this felt like a life or death situation. It wasn’t… but it was.

“I-I like that there’s time to draw here,” Michael added limply. Alex’s head tilted in interest.

“Right, you’re an artist,” he said, casually snatching Michael’s sketchbook from his arms like that was something you do. He clearly didn’t have the same panicky thought process that Michael did.

“Uh, yeah, but don’t‒”

Michael’s protests didn’t really do much of anything as Alex continued to flip through his sketchbook and seeing drawing after drawing of his own damn face. Michael wondered if perhaps the dirt was loose enough to bury himself under.

“You seem to have a lot of me,” Alex said casually. There was nothing condescending in his tone or anything mocking on his face. He was just curious. Michael imagined Isobel or Maria squeezing his hand and nodded.

“You’re aesthetically pleasing and… quiet and curious. You’re, like, a token Mr. Darcy figure. You’re created to be a fantasy,” Michael answered.

Alex’s fingers gently traced the lines that Michael had drawn of his face, having tried and failed to capture the beauty of him. Still, Alex seemed impressed and entranced and Michael thanked whoever was listening that he wasn’t being shamed.

“So… I’m your fantasy?” Alex asked, tilting his head towards Michael. He felt his heart drop into his stomach and he tried not to gulp. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. He channeled Maria once again.

“Well, you do your job very well.”

Alex didn’t smile at this, he just nodded and turned to look back at the sketchbook. Michael wasn’t sure if he’d fucked up or not.

He hoped not.

-

Three hours of not-so-successful line-running, Michael and Alex made their way out of the garden. It went as well as one could imagine practicing a shitty play would be. They got distracted and talking more about things that felt much more interesting than the play itself. Like Alex’s penchant for cooking and his history in the Air Force and Michael’s job as an English teacher and the existence of his best friend Maria. It had him feeling a little more jittery than expected.

That jitteriness was immediately shut down and replaced by worry when he saw Isobel and Mr. Valenti making out against one of the sheds, hardly even trying to hide behind shrubbery. It immediately soured Michael’s mood and he scoffed.

“What?” Alex pressed. Michael gestured haphazardly towards the pair.

“That’s not right,” he said simply.

“Two straight people kissing?” Alex asked. Michael stuck his tongue out at him without thinking which earned him a smile that he quickly ignored.

“She’s kissing an actor, right? Where’s the line at? Where does truth end and fantasy begin when you do stuff like that?” Michael pointed out. He knew Isobel, not incredibly well, but enough to know that she probably wouldn’t understand that it wouldn’t carry on past this week. It was asking for heartbreak when Valenti turned out to be nothing more than an actor doing his job for a paycheck. Perhaps, more than his job description, actually.

“It’s a dangerous game they’re playing, I suppose,” Alex said. 

Michael shook his head.“She’s going to end up heartbroken because of a stupid game and he won’t even feel bad,” he decided. Alex breathed in so deep that Michael had to look over at him. He was already looking right back.

“I don’t know,” he said softly, “A week prior, I never would’ve seen any of this as anything other than a game, but now…”

He never finished his sentence. They stared for a moment until Michael decided that it was far, far too overwhelming and gave him a small nod before walking away. The entire trip back to the house was full of his mind trying to decipher what the hell that meant and then having to remind himself that this was indeed a game. It meant nothing. He couldn’t be stupid.

Which caused him to stupidly bump into Liz.

“Hello there, Mr. Gilkes,” Liz said, smiling up at him fondly. He had the urge to kiss her if only so he would stop thinking about kissing Alex which was a really terrible reason to kiss someone. So, obviously, he didn’t do it.

“Hi,” Michael said. She laughed at him, stepping up close to him and reaching up to spring one of the loose curls.

“So, how’s it all going?” she wondered. He huffed a laugh and shook his head.

“It’s all right out of a storybook,” he answered, sarcasm dripping from his tone. She smirked.

“That’s the point.”

When she walked past him, he didn’t bother to watch her leave. As gorgeous as she was, he had more pressing matters on his mind. Like the fact that Isobel was kissing an actor or that he was going to have to act in a play even though he was a shitty actor.

The main culprit invading his mind, however, was Sir Alexander Manes himself.

-

Alex was shaking.

“You know, for an actor, you’re pretty shit at this,” Michael whispered to him playfully as they stood backstage. Michael wasn’t really fond of acting on stage, it was actually the worst, but this didn’t feel like acting. There was no audience, it was just the six of them fucking around for Mrs. Pennington.

Alex gave him a pretty nasty glare which didn’t really hit the way it should because he looked downright terrified. It didn’t make sense considering he knew they were going to have to put on this damn play eventually. You’d think he’d be comfortable. But, no, he was nervous.

Still, they galloped on stage at their cue.

“Alas, my dear friend,” Alex mumbled. Michael gave him a smile. 

“Louder,” he instructed softly. Alex took a shaky breath and nodded.

“Alas, my dear friend!” he announced, so loud that his voice cracked. Michael squeezed his eyes shut to try to suppress his laughter. “You’ve been stabbed!”

Michael looked at him with wide eyes. He’d casually skipped half the damn script. With a small laugh, Michael got on the ground to pretend to be dead. Alex stood frozen for a bit before he awkwardly went to sit beside him, overly cautious for his prosthetic leg. 

“You’re supposed to be crying,” Michael told him carefully. Alex blinked and then frowned, sniffling in quite possibly the least believable way. Michael almost started laughing out loud. With a shake of his head, he said his next line. “Tis but a scratch.” 

“Let me hold you, my dear friend,” Alex said, scooting closer. He didn’t actually make any move to hold him which didn’t matter, but it had them both snickering under their breath.

“Oh, this life we have led,” Michael began, gazing up at Alex in the most loving way he could. He wasn’t an actor by any means, but he’d spent enough time playing Maria’s fake boyfriend to pretty accurately capture an ‘in love’ face. “I fear the day we let it go.”

“We will meet again. Ours are meant to be in every lifetime,” Alex spoke back, again too softly but Michael didn’t bother correcting him. He just smiled at him.

“Ah, for this moment, if it may be my last, it seems we are alone in this world. Just you and I in this very moment,” Michael recited dramatically. Alex just stared at him.

“I love you,” he blurted suddenly. Michael’s eyebrows furrowed as he stared at him. That wasn’t in the script. Had he really forgotten the script that badly? Alex’s eyes widened at his mistake and Michael just managed a comforting little smile.

Maxwell badly galloped onto the stage behind them in an off-kilter rhythm. 

“You’re supposed to be dead,” he whispered to them. 

“Oh, yeah,” Michael said, dropping to the floor completely in his death and Alex managed an ‘oh no’ that almost revived him with laughter.

A little commotion went on around them as Michael played dead, the image of Alex saying ’I love you’ cycling through his mind over and over and over. What a weird thing to throw in. 

“And they all died!” Jenna announced a little too early or perhaps not, causing a slow slinking of his fellow “actors” to the floor. Alex laid on his chest.

If anyone asked him, he would say it was a very successful performance.

-

High on the adrenaline of the play, Michael grabbed Alex’s arm the moment they got off stage.

“Let’s get out of here,” he pressed. Alex blinked curiously but nodded with a smile. 

Michael gave Alex time to grab his cane before they began rushing away from the makeshift stage, speed walking away from it all and towards the house. Alex stayed close as they moved, smiles on both of their faces. It was hard to pinpoint where it all came from. He just knew one minute Alex was laying on his chest and the next he needed to get him alone.

They found themselves huddled behind the door of Michael’s bedroom, bodies all but touching as they took each other in. Alex had been beautiful since the first day, but seeing him smile like that felt like a brand new type of gorgeous. It flurried into Michael with new knowledge of his shitty stage acting skills and soft hair and the way he felt on his chest. 

This is what it should feel like. 

Michael remembered Maria trying to explain to him what it felt like whenever she really, really liked someone, especially back in high school. She’d explained the heart-pounding, mind-numbing, euphoric feeling of it all. He always thought it was bullshit. While he wanted something out of a book, he couldn’t understand how anyone real could make you feel that way. Now, here he was, giddy to be alone with a boy for once. It didn’t feel like dread or duty like he usually felt whenever he found himself alone in a room with someone. This felt like he wanted it.

He didn’t let go of his hand.

“I feel someone in the early 19th century might have a few words to say about two men who close themselves in a bedroom together,” Alex whispered, though he made no move to back away or let go.

However, his words shattered Michael’s thoughts and rudely reminded him that he was an actor. This wasn’t real. This was a game that he signed up for. He shouldn’t feel so comfortable.

But he did. And, for a moment he considered pleading him to stay.

Instead, he said, “Maybe I should let you go then. Wouldn’t want to get either of us into trouble.” He paused for a moment, squeezing Alex’s hand. As long as he was aware this wasn’t real, he could be a little reckless. Just a little. “I had fun with you.”

“So did I.”

Alex stared at him for a moment before he blinked and looked to the side. He took a deep breath and then gave a curt smile before turning to open the door. He turned the handle and everything, but he paused before he pushed it open.

“Mr. Gilkes, during the ball tomorrow… may I steal a dance or two?”

“Yes, of course, Sir Alexander,” Michael agreed, that giddy feeling slowly but surely rearing its head again.

Alex nodded and then very quickly seemed to make a decision, turning back to Michael and capturing his hand again. Michael held his breath.

“When I look at you, I feel right for the first time in my life,” he admitted, completing the romantic fantasy in Michael’s mind. He truly was the perfect actor.

Alex pressed a kiss to the palm of Michael’s hand and let it linger for a moment. It felt more intimate than anything Michael had ever experienced in his life. It made his heart pound. 

“Good night, Mr. Gilkes,” Alex said softly, quickly disappearing outside of the door and leaving Michael alone.

His mind was in a haze as he went to his bed, laying down fully clothed. He wanted to replay those last few minutes in his mind forever. He wanted to tell Maria. He wanted so much.

He wanted that feeling to never, ever go away.

-

The ball was everything a young Michael could’ve ever dreamed of.

Fancy costumes, beautiful men and women, live early Romantic era music, dancing. He couldn’t even help the smile that overcame his face as he, Jenna, and Isobel made their way into the ballroom. It was the real answer to his fantasies and suddenly the whole week was worth everything awful that had happened.

In the sea of bodies, he spotted Liz who gave him a little wave and a wink. She was wearing a dress for the first time, dressed up in a way similar to Isobel and Jenna. It was different, but she still looked gorgeous. Jenna got whisked away by Maxwell, Isobel got whisked away by Mr. Valenti, and Michael considered whisking away with Liz until a familiar face stood in front of him.

Alex looked even better in his special occasion fancy garb than he did in his daily fancy garb. The pale blues of the suit made his skin look even darker than it usually did and accented his already dazzling eyes. Michael was immediately brought back to the night before whenever they had snuck off to his room for nothing more than a kiss on the hand.

“May I have this dance?”

Michael held out his hand, allowing him to pull him into a very Regency-esque dance that had been taught to them through the week, but Michael had already known. It was something he did in his free time, something he did when he needed to remember what the point was. It was natural to him. Doing it with a good looking man, however, was new.

“You know, I seem to recall you saying you didn’t like social events such as this,” Michael pointed out with a grin.

“I can make an exception, I suppose,” Alex said softly. Michael raised an eyebrow. 

“Oh, I can make you enjoy this?”

Alex stared at him for a moment, confliction on his face before he quickly pulled Michael off the dance floor. Michael let him, though the confusion never left his face.

“Michael, can we speak for a moment? I need to tell you something that-- that I'm not supposed to tell you,” Alex said, his eyes shifting over to someone. When Michael followed his gaze, he saw Mrs. Pennington all but staring them down. Alex gave his hand a little squeeze. “Please?”

“O-Okay,” Michael said dumbly, letting himself be pulled through the crowd. He overheard Maxwell wistfully propose to Jenna and then Mr. Valenti wistfully propose to Isobel. His stomach started churning. 

Alex tugged him outside onto the balcony, closing the door behind them and creating a world for just them. He stood close, his cane beside both of their feet as he leaned in. His eyes were so big and worried and nervous that Michael couldn’t help but listen attentively.

“I-I know that I made quite a horrible first impression on our first meeting, but I hope I’ve changed that. You see, I had no intention to even speak to anyone here more than I had to, much less fall for anyone, but I did and I have and I… I feel connected to you in a way I haven’t before and I just can’t imagine never seeing you again,” Alex gushed, seeming so sincerely honest. Michael stared at him, eyes growing wider each moment. He was a fantastic actor. “Is there any hope that I can see you after this is over?” 

There was something awful about how conflicted Michael felt in that moment. The illogical side that was still caught up in the feeling of the night before wanted to say yes. He wanted to tug him close and kiss him and never leave. But this wasn’t real. Every single emotion he was feeling was intended from the start. 

“Oh,” Michael whispered, slowly pulling away from him. Alex’s face dropped. “I didn’t realize this would feel so…”

Alex’s eyebrows pulled together, his head tilting like a desperate puppy would. “So what?”

“Fake.”

Michael took a large step away, watching as Alex got a downright pitiful expression on his pretty features. It made it harder to leave.

“No, but it’s not‒”

“No, you were right, this is a dangerous game that I shouldn’t have played in the first place,” Michael said. He didn’t think it would’ve felt so bad had he not had that moment of belonging and security in his bedroom the night prior. That felt too good to be fake. But it was and that made him feel uncomfortable. “I want something real.”

Michael didn’t stay long enough to hear anything else Alex might have to say, instead quickly escaping into the ballroom again to find the one real thing he had experienced in the entire week he’d been there. It took him a moment, but he did eventually find Liz’s short stature in the sea of people, talking to an elderly woman with a smile on her face.

“Liz,” he called. She turned him with pleading eyes. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“Yes, please,” Liz agreed, taking his hand.

Her laughter followed him as they all but sprinted away and out of the house. He made sure she had a good hold on her dress before making a beeline through the grass to the little shed they’d danced in earlier in the week. He didn’t really let himself breathe until he fell onto her couch.

“Any reason in particular we just made a great escape?” she asked teasingly. He closed his eyes, breathing in slow. He tried to push away the conflicted feelings he had about leaving Alex. He was a fucking actor. 

“I realized that you were the only person who hasn’t been putting on a show for the whole week,” he said softly. It helped convince himself just a little bit more that he indeed made the right choice.

Until she didn’t respond.

Liz stayed quiet until he pried his eyes open. She looked downright guilty. He felt his heart drop into his stomach. God, he needed Maria.

“I don’t think I was really putting on a show, but,” Liz said, grimacing as she spoke slow and controlled, “I was originally intended to be your love interest. I’m an actress.”

“Of fucking course,” Michael groaned, slapping his hand over his eyes. Of course. The one real thing wasn’t even fucking real.

“But I really do like you, you know, as a person. I had so much fun with you and I felt bad about tricking you like that, so I put some space between us. Nothing I did with you was acting, though,” Liz explained. Michael sighed dramatically all over again. Suddenly, he realized that he was indeed getting all of this out of his system. This was all one giant mindfuck.

“Well, thanks for telling the truth, I guess,” Michael whispered. It suddenly made a bit more sense that Alex didn’t really start giving him any attention until halfway through. She backed out and Alex had to swoop in and save the day. How very Mr. Perfect of him.

“I would want to be told the truth, so…” Liz explained, shrugging. He lulled his head back on the couch and tried to let it all sink in. If he knew how badly this was going to feel, he never would’ve blown so much money on it in the first place.

“Can I admit something, though?” Michael asked.

“Sure.”

“Alex’s character was pretty convincing,” he said softly, again imagining that safe feeling in his bedroom paired with the soft kiss to his hand, “There were moments where it felt real.”

Liz just gave that comforting smile of hers and placed a hand on his shoulder. He decided that would have to do.

“I know.”

-

“I think me and Kyle are going to keep seeing each other after this.”

Michael looked up from where he was packing his bags and saw Jenna staring too. Isobel seemed very blissfully into the idea that whatever they were was legit. Michael wasn’t sure if he should say something. Maybe they were, maybe they weren’t. He didn’t know and he didn’t want to upset her for anything.

“I have to admit,” Jenna said with a smile, “They could be pretty dreamy when they need to be. My sister is gonna love all the stories.”

“My friend is too,” Michael agreed. As much as he knew Maria was fed up with his obsession, he also knew that she was a sucker for any story that involved a gushy romance. He was walking away with two different versions of that.

They finished packing up their things before heading outside. The carriage was waiting for them, all ready to wheel them away so they could go home and return to modern life. Michael couldn’t tell if he was sad to leave his childhood dream or glad to get away from the drama. 

“You know, I had a lot of fun with you guys,” Michael said, sighing softly as he took in the large house behind him, “I hope we can keep in touch. Like, on social media.”

“Aw, me too,” Isobel gushed, squeezing him in a hug. Jenna laughed gave his arm a little squeeze.

“Absolutely,” she said with a smile.

Maybe this thing wasn’t a total bust. If he was walking away with friends, then maybe it was worth it.

“Wait!” 

They all turned to see Alex hauling ass after them with his cane in hand. Michael furrowed his eyebrows as Alex came towards him, desperation on his face. Really?

“Michael, please,” he said as he got close, “I never lied to you, you have to know that.” Michael shook his head, giving the nicest smile he could manage.

“It’s okay, I know you’re just doing your job. And you were the perfect fantasy. You can stop now.”

“But I‒”

“No, it’s okay,” Michael assured him, seeing Alex’s face scrunch up in a panic, “I’m over it.”

Michael made his way towards the carriage and gave Alex one last look. The man looked torn, like he didn’t know whether to keep at it or to let him go. He let him go. Michael let out a heavy sigh as he sat across from Jenna and Isobel.

They were silent for a moment as the carriage got going. No one said anything until the large house was completely out of sight. Isobel reached across to put her hand on his knee and gave it a little squeeze. He was able to relax just a bit, even if Alex was still on his mind.

“You know, Alex did a very good job at pretending to fall in love with you,” Isobel noted kindly. Michael snorted, nodding his head.

“Yeah, he really did.”

“He asked me if there was any way I could go with Kyle so he could spend more time with you. Good thing, though, since we really hit it off,” she informed him like it was something to ignore. Jenna’s eyes widened a little and shot a look at Michael. He was already feeling overwhelmed. He gulped.

Michael spent the rest of the ride to the airport trying to rationalize why Alex would have requested him. That didn’t make sense, especially since he was supposed to be with Liz originally. Why would he do that? And, hell, why would he have asked Isobel and not Kyle or Mrs. Pennington?

He got on the plane, trying to convince himself that it didn’t matter.

-

Dorothy was right, there really was no place like home.

Michael instantly curled up on the couch the minute he got inside, breathing in the comforting smell of home and nothing more. He was going to be alright. Whatever that experience was, it was necessary for him to move on.

He glanced around at all his floral and antique decor and decided that could all stay. Just because he no longer felt the need to pretend he was going to have a great Mr. Darcy love, that didn’t mean he couldn’t like his aesthetic. He would have to remove the giant cardboard cutouts, though. 

Michael stood up after a moment and lit a candle, letting it make the room smell like home even more. He needed that comfort. As he settled into the soothing smell of lavender, his phone buzzed and he pulled it out to see follow requests from Jenna, Isobel, and even Liz. That made him feel even more at home. He didn’t need a boyfriend or a girlfriend or anything to be at home. He just needed friends.

He called Maria.

“Hey!” she answered, sounding as cheery as ever. Michael smiled. He missed her a lot. It felt like too long. 

“Are you home?"

"Yeah, don't have to be at the bar until later."

"Well, you were right, I’m over it,” he sighed, “Even perfect guys aren’t perfect.”

Maria made a mournful little noise, “Oh, honey. I’ll be right over.”

“See you soon.”

The call ended and he put his phone down. Michael closed his eyes for a moment as he stood there, taking in the smell of the candle and the security that came with Maria being on her way. He was going to survive this. He didn’t need Alex.

Alex, Alex, Alex. The confusing man haunted his mind. The confusing man he wanted out of his mind. Whatever that was, it wasn’t real. Alex was an actor and he played his job well. Too well. Honestly, dangerously well.

A few minutes later, Maria knocked on the door and Michael smiled thankfully. He quickly made his way to open it and prepared himself for the backbreaking hug she was going to give him, only to not receive it. Instead, Sir Alexander Manes stood across from him nearly out of breath and wide-eyed and in normal clothing. Hell, he even had a leather jacket.

He looked even better.

“I tried to catch you at the airport and I missed you by a few seconds, so I got on the next flight here and I ran and I wanted to give you this,” Alex said, leaning harder on his cane as he held out the sketchbook he’d forgotten. Michael’s eyes went wide and he stared at him, more than a little confused.

“You came all the way here to give me this?” Michael asked, very hesitantly taking the book from Alex’s hand. He nodded sincerely.

“Yes.”

“That’s a little extreme,” Michael pointed out. Alex’s face fell again and he nodded once, licking his lips.

“Right, sorry,” he said, using the wall to help him balance. He almost took a step in the opposite direction to leave, but then he stopped. Michael would never admit how thankful he was that he stopped. “Look, I’m an ex-Airman. I just got discharged because of my injury and I haven’t done anything in a long time, so my aunt basically forced me to come play stand-in before Kyle could come. I’m not an actor, I’m just some guy who… who fell for you. Really, really hard. We just connected like something wild, like something…”

Michael took a slow breath and tried not to smile. This felt too overwhelming, too much like a romcom, too fake. But he was here. Would he really be here if it was fake?

“Cosmic?” Michael offered. Alex smiled.

“Yes, cosmic,” he agreed, adjusting his stance to stand up straighter. He fixed his grip on his cane. “I used to think my aunt’s work was ridiculous and I thought all the people went there were too. But, the truth is, I really enjoyed it, just like we talked about. For a moment, love that simple was very real to me. Then I realized it was because it was that simple. Love is the easiest thing and I want that with you if you’ll let me.” 

Michael smiled so simply and almost leaned forward. He almost gave in, he almost melted. But this really was too good to be true.

“You don’t even know me,” Michael said softly. He didn’t walk away like his brain was telling him to, though. He didn’t close the door. He wanted so badly to be convinced.

“But I would like to.”

“Alex…” Michael trailed off. Please be real, please be real, please be real.

“You said you didn’t want fake. I don’t want that either. Do you think… we could try to be something real together? I promise I won’t show up at your door without warning ever again,” he said with a warm smile. 

The tone he used reminded him of the kiss on the hand he’d given him and how comfortable he felt being alone with him. Even now, he couldn’t find himself to be weirded out that he’d come all this way to give him back his book. It felt sincere. He seemed so, so sincere. 

For a moment, he got lost in how sincere the kiss on the hand felt.

For a moment, he wondered what it would be like to kiss him for real.

For a moment, he almost did.

“No, no, this isn’t real! Don’t you get that?” Michael laughed, turning and walking a bit deeper into the apartment before turning back to him. Space would help get his mindset back. Alex never crossed the threshold, he just stared with hope in his eyes. “This is a story, this is a fantasy. You can’t be real.”

“Michael, can’t you understand that you are my fantasy?” Alex asked. Michael sighed and his shoulders dropped, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. God, he wanted to kiss him.

“You can’t say stuff like that when you don’t mean it,” Michael whispered as a last-ditch effort. However, he was already gravitating back towards Alex. “You don’t know me. I don’t know you.”

“And I will tell you everything there is to know. I will prove to you that everything is real, I swear,” Alex promised. Michael couldn’t even fight the stupid smile from taking over his face even though he wished he could look a little more serious in this situation. “You say I’m a fantasy or something, but you’re the one who is too good to be true. You're kind and talented and beautiful. You're shy while also somehow managing to speak your mind. I'm just so intrigued to learn every little detail about who you are. Please, let me."

“Man, I really wanna kiss you now,” Michael huffed, still smiling. This was real. This was his. He was allowed to have this. 

Alex smiled right back.“Then do it.”

Michael closed the distance between them, both of his hands grabbing onto Alex’s face and kissing him. It was easily the best kiss he’d ever had, something better than he could’ve ever imagined. He was so comfortable. He was at home. This was it. This was everything.

This is what he was supposed to feel.

He really was going to get his true fairytale ending.

[eyreguide]

A Detailed Book Review of Jane Eyre

My thoughts on the novel was originally posted in parts on the Bookish Whimsy blog for a readalong of Jane Eyre in 2013.

Chapter I - XI

Re-reading these first chapters I am struck by the fact that Charlotte Bronte started our introduction to Jane when Jane finally rebels against her bullying cousin John and the irrational hatred of Mrs. Reed. It’s a powerful representation of Jane’s character because although she becomes outwardly subdued and her passionate nature is restrained for much of the book later, it’s important to know that this is who Jane is, no matter the cultural conventions. As a child she’s not cute and cuddly and as an adult the “rugged points” in her character must be accepted by the people she allows to get close to her.

The other aspect I find so interesting is how quick Jane is to point out hypocrisy. I think I read somewhere that children excel at recognizing hypocrisy and what is and isn’t fair and while it’s pretty serious how unfair it is that Mrs. Reed shows such disdain for Jane and gives preferential treatment to her children, and how Mr. Brocklehurst is so intent on making the Lowood girls humble and plain yet his family lives in ostentatious luxury, Jane can put her statements about these circumstances in such a way that shows a very ironic and sly wit that I really enjoy. For instance:

-  “Abbot, I think, gave me credit for being a sort of infantine Guy Fawkes.”

-  “Breakfast was over, and none had breakfasted. Thanks being returned for what we had not got…”

-  “Mr. Brocklehurst was here interrupted: three other visitors, ladies, now entered the room. They ought to have come a little sooner to have heard his lecture on dress, for they were splendidly attired in velvet, silk, and furs.”

It was great to read Jane grow into an adult - with her childhood memories sometimes tempered by the adult Jane who is telling the story so we can get that bit of humor and a little bit of perspective - like why she felt she was an outcast at Gateshead. Of course now that we are at Thornfield, there’s so much stuff to look forward to reading about!

Chapters XII-XXI

Oh Jane. I find your restlessness so endearing! When I was a teen, I would re-read those passages where Jane wishes to see more of life and “more vivid kinds of goodness” and really empathize with how she was feeling. I think this is one of Jane’s great monologues in this book, and I always find it funny how such deeply heartfelt thoughts are suddenly followed by Grace Poole and the strange laugh. It’s like those momentous thoughts of hers should be it’s own chapter!

Now Mr. Rochester! I just love him so. He acts so unconventionally with Jane from the beginning - and his sense of humor is so skewed! Cause it’s kinda mean how he didn’t introduce himself to Jane in Hay Lane. But Jane wasn’t even upset, so you know it’s true love! :D I love how Jane can barely follow and almost certainly doesn’t understand some of the things he talks about in their second conversation and yet she holds her own and comes up with great answers! The back and forth banter in those scenes between Jane and Rochester just remind me how much I love Charlotte’s writing because it’s intelligent with that touch of humor. And re-reading it I am again reminded how much I associate Michael Jayston’s voice and acting with Rochester now because I just hear and see him in this role completely! (I’m referring to the 1973 miniseries adaptation - my favorite!) Mr. Rochester is so talkative too, Charlotte makes it clear through Mr. Rochester’s words that he is falling in love with Jane, even if Jane is not so sure.

There’s really all kinds of moments in this section where I’m just gleeful every time there is an indication of Mr. Rochester’s interest in Jane. My favorite is the tantalizing “Good-night my–” Ahh, what was he going to say?? And then the whole scene after the fire in his bedroom is full of indications as well as the Gypsy scene, the scene in the garden after Mason’s attack and Jane asking for leave. These are all some of my absolute favorite parts of the book because this is the kind of romance I adore - the subtly indicated and gradual evolution of love. It’s just so beautifully done!

Chapters XXII-XXIX

The too short amount of time we get to see of Jane and Rochester’s courtship is one of the highlights of this book for me. So sweet and romantic on Mr. Rochester’s part and so sassy and teasing on Jane’s; I feel like this is a heightened idea of how Mr. Rochester and Jane’s conversations went towards the end of the three months they were getting to know each other in the beginning of the story. Where Jane was just beginning to realize her power of “vexing and soothing him by turns.” Their banter in these couple chapters just makes me smile!

But my favorite chapter in this book is chapter 27 - the one where Mr. Rochester talks to Jane after the interrupted wedding. The scene where Mr. Rochester’s secret is revealed is incredibly devastating, but in this chapter the emotional damage to this reader just gets worse. It starts with the fact that Jane believes Mr. Rochester didn’t really love her, to her realizing that he did and still does, but that doesn’t change the fact that she must leave him. And Mr. Rochester is deluding himself with a hope that he can keep Jane with him by promising to treat her as his only wife. It’s so tempting and Jane does love him, but she just can’t compromise her integrity and her moral beliefs and it’s an exquisitely painful dilemma. And even though Mr. Rochester has committed such a betrayal, I love that Jane forgives him almost instantly when she sees how remorseful he is and how much he still loves her. It’s such a big thing to forgive him for, but I completely understand it because Mr. Rochester is a flawed character and he tried this because he was desperate to secure Jane. This is the time that Mr. Rochester is totally truthful as well (it is his only recourse now) and when he has no more secrets and no more games to play but is earnestly pleading, it’s so darn moving! And romantic! So much of both Jane and Rochester is revealed in this chapter and I think that’s why I find it so powerful.

Jane’s three days wandering is a part of the book that I didn’t used to appreciate as much - it really is distressing to read how Jane suffered and was almost ready to give up. But she clung to her dignity and to her moral convictions. As if it wasn’t enough that she had to turn her back on the love of her life, she also had to suffer starvation and mortification! But again everything just reinforces Jane’s strength of character and makes her a fabulous heroine to look up to.

This section has all the extreme ups and downs of the entire book! Though I don’t really think of it, it is pretty odd that Charlotte Bronte plotted this story to have such a climax in the middle, but I feel the last section of the book is a genius addition that really completes Jane’s journey.

Chapters XXX-End

St. John Rivers - the anti-Rochester. Re-reading this part of the book again, I focused on all the things that made St. John the complete opposite of Rochester. And there’s a lot. St. John is blonde and fair to Rochester’s black hair and dark features, tall and statuesque to middle height and square-ish, a minister and philanthropic and you know Mr. Rochester isn’t that concerned with religion and early on Jane points out that Rochester’s brow is deficient where it should indicate benevolence. St. John likes to read at mealtimes and study, while Mr. Rochester can’t stop talking to Jane, St. John is completely honest with Jane and Rochester is considerably less so. Both however are intelligent, and both study Jane’s character well and find something in her to attract them but Mr. Rochester sees Jane as his equal and really better than him, and St. John sees Jane as the diligent workhorse he’s always wanted. 

That’s where I really have a problem with St. John. Sure he’s striving for good things, and wants to use his skills and intellect to make a difference and fulfill a duty to God, but with his dismissal of the individual needs of a person and then of a woman, it’s hard to feel very sympathetic with him. He continually puts reason above feeling and in doing so cannot understand the complete beauty of humanity. Of course for Jane, meeting him at this point in her life when passion has not resulted in happiness, it is great for Jane to see the other side. In this section Jane matures even more - she knows that she needs to be loved for herself and not what she can do. And she gets the family and financial independence to live free and contented on her own. 

So she can return to Mr. Rochester as his true equal - she doesn’t have to worry about depending too much on Rochester’s wealth and connections because she has some of her own. But I think the transformation Mr. Rochester undergoes is the greater. He’s so broken when Jane comes back - humbled and accepting of his fate - and what breaks my heart is that while Jane was strong enough to soldier on without him, Mr. Rochester was not. It’s too romantic that Rochester needs Jane that much. And he’s not just humbled by the experience, but also accepts God and his past. Passion balanced with reason. Just like Jane. Now they can have their happily ever after. I’ve long thought Jane Eyre a study in that balance of passion and reason - Jane was too passionate at Gateshead but tempered at Lowood by Helen’s reason, then Jane is pushed towards an excess of passion at Thornfield and an excess of reason at Moor House, to finally find the middle ground with Mr. Rochester at Ferndean. 

This book is just so extraordinary to me. It has so much depth and has resonated with me so strongly ever since I was a teen. I wonder what I would have thought of it if I had read it when I was older, but I’m so glad I had the chance to grow with this story because I’ve found so many different things to appreciate about it at different times in my life.

[daysiias]

{ zendaya ♔ 24 ♔ she/her } well, well, well if it isn’t daysia collins running around peach hollow. legend has it, they come from tangerine towers and have lived here for six years. if you’re wondering what they’ve been up to, i hear they’re a crisis counselor for a living. they have been known to be quixotic yet nurturing. a word of advice to them, always look over your shoulder. you never know who is watching. { kim ♔ 25 ♔ est ♔ she/her }

yall know me. i’m kim, i play serenity, and i’m one of the admins!!  this is my damaged but optimistic baby, daysia. ITS PRONOUNCED LIKE DEJA VU :’) i just created her in november but she so quickly became my favorite muse to write. so buckle up! and pls plot w me. i am fragile and if i don’t get any plots i will hide in a dumpster, where i belong.

TW FOR DEATH, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, CAR ACCIDENT

here is her pinterest and a spotify playlist if you wanna check those out ~

daysia jade, day, dj, deej – anything goes. she’s 23 and will turn her head to just about anything. she’s a spring baby born march, 1996.

her childhood was pretty good. she and her brother grew up a year apart, and her parents divorced early. early enough that daysia can barely remember a time where the family was hole, and likes it that way.

however, her father did not take the divorce well and turned to drugs – meth to be specific. he only saw the kids on weekends and even then, daysia and marcus absolutely knew what was happening. perhaps they didn’t know his choice of poison, but they knew that it was just that: poison.

he was never abusive and always took care of the kids, even if he was tweaking out of his mind. there were a few instances that were touch and go, like when he forgot to take dinner out of the oven and it caught fire, or when he forgot to change the sheets – little things that added up.

when daysia was 16 and marcus was 15, they were involved in a car accident. her dad was high behind the wheel, lost control of the car, and they hit the guard rail. they went over an embankment and down a short hill before the vehicle came to a complete stop, flipped over. she watched the life drain from her brother’s face, and never got into a car again, up until recently when she started letting @malcolmvramsey​​ drive her places she needed to go. she always tries to give him gas money, but he rarely takes it.

a good deal of resentment built up for her father, but she remained stoic, even when he went to prison for drug charges and the dui he’d racked up that ultimately killed her brother. she didn’t let anyone know that she was hurting, because she numbed it all. she threw herself into her school work and her artwork, painting constantly. melting colors together somehow helped her cope. she could get her emotions out on paper. in fact, that still rings true today. in her bedroom of the apartment she lives in, she has covered one of the walls in canvas and paints over and over.

in an effort to start life over, daysia left detroit when she graduated high school. she transferred to peach hollow where she went to winchester university, not wanting a lot of attention. this is where she really came to life.

daysia was able to push michigan to the back of her mind entirely, because peach hollow had so much to offer. the people were better. the music was better. the parties were better. the education was better. there wasn’t a single thing she missed from home aside from her mother, who she kept in regular contact with and still does. they’re always texting and facetime before bed every night.

she came alive. college changed her. she was studying a subject that interested her and meeting people who didn’t have to know about her past. she did, and does everything to keep michigan her dirty little secret. she liked the party scene, but only drank or smoked weed. she refuses to touch anything that might turn her into her father. she was even hired on as a crisis counselor for a local hotline, contractual to her graduation.

in the past month, daysia has plummeted, however. nobody would ever be able to tell. she is the queen of poker face, an absolute delight to be around. she can be a little aloof, and is constantly stoned, but it’s how she gets through the day. she is an absolute goof, loves to crack jokes and make people laugh. she loves to laugh herself. these are all traits that show and cover the inner turmoil constantly trying to bubble to the surface.

about three weeks ago, daysia received word that her father passed away in jail. he overdosed, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. so she didn’t. she did, however, stop doing school work and started drinking more. she’s mere days from flunking out of school and losing her job. but nobody knows, because she acts like she doesn’t know either.

all in all, she’s doing a lot of self sabotage but covering it up with every ounce of grace she has.

as for her personality and relationships, daysia excels. she is nurturing, so when a friend, or even a stranger is hurting, she tends to go to their side and comfort them. as long as she can make them laugh, then everything will be okay. she makes friends pretty easily, and keeps them for the most part. she is fiercely loyal and will absolutely scrap to defend her loved ones.

she loves love. there is no gender she isn’t curious about and absolutely loves romance, though she also tries to hide that. her walls are ten feet tall. she’s in to hook ups, flings, and polyamory. she’s very open in that sense!!

FUN FACTS

she has an english bull dog named frank!! he is her pride and joy. she dresses him up in outfits, has regular photo shoots with him and loves going to the dog park. he isn’t legally an emotional support animal, but that’s definitely what he is to her. if he doesn’t like you, she won’t either tbh

she has this lil purple pen looking thing that is always on her. it’s her weed vape and she will hit it anywhere. her dumb head is always in the mfing clouds

she has a spotify family plan that is currently only her, mac, and dom and she will absolutely invite anyone she meets bc spotify premium is something everyone should enjoy

wears a lot of graphic tees and jeans, kinda a tom boy. doesn’t love dressing up but will occasionally. also doesn’t rly like make up but DOES know how to beat her face

1000% unable to be alone for like any period of time?? like if she gets off work and no one is in her apartment she just leaves. she goes next door to mac, goes to the peach pit, anywhere she can socialize. being left to her own thoughts will always turn out poorly.

really loves poetry. cannot write it to save her life, but loves going to slam readings or checking out poetry books from the library. her adhd brain can’t handle novels – poetry is just the right length to keep her attention and dig into her soul.

oh yeah, she’s got some pretty intense untreated adhd lol

OK SO WANTED CONNECTIONS IF UR STILL HERE LMAO

ex-roommate: something happened between daysia and this person, whether it was a relationship gone wrong, a friendship with tension, or just the other person being a damn slob – and daysia removed them from the house and moved someone new in. they are probably on shitty terms.

roomate(s): ^^ the forementioned current roommate or two!! i would like her to be veeeery close to whoever lives here. they have to be ok with her dog, her weed, and how mf needy she is.

current flings: a few people are probably on her list of suitors right now. people she spends time with romantically, but hasn’t committed to. she absolutely cannot be alone, at any point… ever! so, she has someone with her at all times. m/f/nb, all good.

party friends:  this one is pretty self explanatory!! these are friends that daysia may or may not talk to outside of a party, but will always cling to at one.

close friends: she lets very few people all the way in, but those that make it are generally taken care of by day. she makes sure that they are as comfortable with life as possible and spends a lot of time with them

exes: as daysia is a ticking time bomb, there have been many people she’s blown off. whether they once hooked up, were together, or what have you, daysia has a lot of exes. she never means to hurt anyone. it just sort of happens and she has accepted it.

[thatscarletflycatcher]

My assorted thoughts on LotR, both novels and PJ movies.

The Fellowship of the Ring (the novel) felt extraordinarily slow to me up to the council of Elrond. I was told that’s because it makes reference to stuff that happens in The Hobbit, which I haven’t read, but then I think novels should be good stand alones by themselves, so...

In that vein, the movie I liked the most was precisely The Fellowship of the Ring, I think it adapted the novel to screen very well, and it set up some variations in character arcs that, though I didn’t feel were needed, sounded interesting (eg: Aragorn, will go back to this later).

Once Tolkien was done with the worldbuilding, things started to get more dynamic and reach the sensation of serendipity by The Return of the King, which is amazing. The Return of the King is my favorite novel of the trilogy, but then it is clear its awesomeness draws from the hard work of the first two novels.

I also feel like this story is the kind of novel that is best enjoyed once you have finished it and had some time to let it sink in.

I found most characters to be relatable and even endearing. My favourites are Aragorn, Theoden, Eomer and Eowyn. As for the hobbits... I couldn’t grow to care much for Sam and Frodo, or Bilbo, and for Pippin and Merry only when they get separated and each has a story, one in Rohan and the other in Minas Tirith. However, I did enjoy the scourge of the Shire and how it shows how much the quest changed them all.

People talk a lot about the randomness of Tom Bombadil, but, can we stop for a minute and think of how Radagast makes that apparition in The Fellowship of the Ring to disappear into thin air later on?

Middle Earth is amazing, the mythos is amazing, the epic is amazing, the battles are amazing, the songs are amazing, the thing about the languages is just... no words. The romances on the other hand... well...

Arwen and Aragorn. I know it feels very romantic in a metaphoric way to see the beloved as an otherwordly creature filled with superhuman beauty and power and wisdom. On the other hand... You cannot just say that an elven lady fell for a mortal man as if it were par de course. As far as explanations go, Aragorn saw her and fell for her beauty (that side is understandable), and then Arwen fell for him because... Galadriel dressed him up years later in Loth-Lorien? What? Elves are painted as such superior creatures to men that it doesn’t make much sense. 

It does make sense, I accept, structure wise: Aragorn wins the girl’s hand, the races of men and elves are rejoined. But psychologically wise? I don’t get it.

Eowyn and Faramir. I love this couple in theory, the way in which their personal stories mirror each other in many ways, and how they differ (given that Theoden and Denethor are foils to each other). They get few scenes, but they get far more than Arwen and Aragorn, and have some of the most beautiful and emotional lines in those, and yet... it isn’t developed to its full potential. I know, the story is not about romance, I get it. However there’s something that doesn’t sit well with me:

Eowyn changes her mind/heart in... a split second. Yes, Tolkien says that maybe she finally understood her heart better, but I don’t see how “I’m in love with Faramir” can be wrongly read as “I love Aragorn and he doesn’t love me back, I wanna die”. Painted this way, Eowyn is either stupid or fickle. And Tolkien didn’t need to do that. He could have totally let her change her mind through the time she spent with Faramir, warming up to his kindness and loving treatment of her. So...

#Farawynforeva

Regarding the movies... They have become a classic for a reason. The settings are breathtaking, the casting is perfect except for some minor details (Blonde Faramir??? Also, but that’s personal, I cannot for the life of me warm to Elijah Woods Frodo. Gah), the score is extraordinary (I’m gonna say heresy and say that the high parts remind me for some reason of the one for Legends of the Fall, I’m sorry), the undertaking of adapting the source material to fit a trilogy of movies is something we are not likely to see again any time soon, and yet...

My impression is that, as the trilogy goes on, the focus shifts from character to action, and character arcs and plot points are left hanging. For example, Aragorn.

Movie!Aragorn is not as self assured as the character from the novels. PJ decided to give him doubts about reclaiming his right of kingship, and the angle is interesting: Aragorn knows himself man and thus at least somewhat fragile to the temptations of power, just as Faramir and Gandalf are; he fears to repeat Isildur’s mistakes (and given that in the end even Frodo succumbs to the power of the Ring, I don’t blame him). The first movie ends with Boromir’s death (which is at the beginning of The Two Towers in the novels), which moves Aragorn to accept his burden as king and swear to Boromir that he won’t let Gondor fall. 

At this point the audience gets prepared to see the further transformation of the avoidant ranger into the commited king, to see him become a wise judge, a compassionate leader and a healer of his people and then... it doesn’t happen. Aragorn keeps wavering well into The Return of the King, when he needs to be pushed to go face his duty because “Arwen is dying”. Seriously. Aragorn seeing some men are not strong enough to be at the battle of the Black Gate and sending them to Cair Andros where they could be useful? Nah. Aragorn exiling the soldier that committed treason to save Faramir, but at the same time sending him to serve him in Ithilien? Nah. Aragorn healing Faramir, Eowyn and Merry because “the hands of the king are the hands of a healer”? Ain’t no time for that, gotta have a full sequence of will-they-won’t-they with the dead army and Gollum making a plan to separate Sam and Frodo and also let’s just stuff Shelob and Cirith Ungol in The Return of the King too, because there’s so little material to translate on screen for that last movie. GRRRRR.

Gimli stops being a character after The Fellowship of the Ring and turns into Just Comic Relief™. The whole plot of Faramir falling  for the temptation of the Ring in The Two Towers is completely ignored in The Return of the King, as if they were two different characters. The Two Towers spends a lot of time focusing on Eowyn, to later on try to wrap up her story in two tiny scenes in Return of the King. And there are probably other things I cannot recall now that give the same impression. Arcs and plot points are set up and then deflate.

I’ll add more if I remember anything else.

[daycollins]

{ zendaya ☁ twenty six ☁ she/her }  among the whispers around peach hollow, have you heard of daysia collins? no? well, let’s catch you up to speed. rumor has it, she’s been seen strolling around blueberry boulevard & have lived in peach hollow for six years. it’s good to have her around because i hear she’s a crisis counselor for a living. recent events must have her trembling because it hasn’t be long since everyone found out she flunked school. let’s hope they learned their lesson that the truth always catches up to you.

yall know me. i’m kim, i play winnie, and i’m one of the admins!!  this is my damaged but optimistic baby, daysia. ITS PRONOUNCED LIKE DEJA VU :’) i just created her in november but she so quickly became my favorite muse to write. so buckle up! and pls plot w me. i am fragile and if i don’t get any plots i will hide in a dumpster, where i belong.

TW FOR DEATH, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, CAR ACCIDENT

here is her pinterest and a spotify playlist if you wanna check those out ~

daysia jade, day, dj, deej – anything goes. she’s 23 and will turn her head to just about anything. she’s a spring baby born march, 1996.

her childhood was pretty good. she and her brother grew up a year apart, and her parents divorced early. early enough that daysia can barely remember a time where the family was hole, and likes it that way.

however, her father did not take the divorce well and turned to drugs – meth to be specific. he only saw the kids on weekends and even then, daysia and marcus absolutely knew what was happening. perhaps they didn’t know his choice of poison, but they knew that it was just that: poison.

he was never abusive and always took care of the kids, even if he was tweaking out of his mind. there were a few instances that were touch and go, like when he forgot to take dinner out of the oven and it caught fire, or when he forgot to change the sheets – little things that added up.

when daysia was 16 and marcus was 15, they were involved in a car accident. her dad was high behind the wheel, lost control of the car, and they hit the guard rail. they went over an embankment and down a short hill before the vehicle came to a complete stop, flipped over. she watched the life drain from her brother’s face, and never got into a car again.

a good deal of resentment built up for her father, but she remained stoic, even when he went to prison for drug charges and the dui he’d racked up that ultimately killed her brother. she didn’t let anyone know that she was hurting, because she numbed it all. she threw herself into her school work and her artwork, painting constantly. melting colors together somehow helped her cope. she could get her emotions out on paper. in fact, that still rings true today. in her bedroom of the apartment she lives in, she has covered one of the walls in canvas and paints over and over.

in an effort to start life over, daysia left detroit when she graduated high school. she transferred to peach hollow where she went to winchester university, not wanting a lot of attention. this is where she really came to life.

daysia was able to push michigan to the back of her mind entirely, because peach hollow had so much to offer. the people were better. the music was better. the parties were better. the education was better. there wasn’t a single thing she missed from home aside from her mother, who she kept in regular contact with and still does. they’re always texting and facetime before bed every night.

she came alive. college changed her. she was studying a subject that interested her and meeting people who didn’t have to know about her past. she did, and does everything to keep michigan her dirty little secret. she liked the party scene, but only drank or smoked weed. she refuses to touch anything that might turn her into her father. she was even hired on as a crisis counselor for a local hotline, contractual to her graduation.

in the past month, daysia has plummeted, however. nobody would ever be able to tell. she is the queen of poker face, an absolute delight to be around. she can be a little aloof, and is constantly stoned, but it’s how she gets through the day. she is an absolute goof, loves to crack jokes and make people laugh. she loves to laugh herself. these are all traits that show and cover the inner turmoil constantly trying to bubble to the surface.

daysia received word that her father passed away in jail. he overdosed, and she wasn’t sure how to feel. so she didn’t. she did, however, stop doing school work and started drinking more. she flunked out of school and lost her job.

at the same time, she got into her first serious relationship. day fell hard and fast for her best friend, mac. their relationship started out much like a fairy tale. she wanted to keep it like that forever, but her addiction and ptsd took over. she tried her very hardest to hold onto mac, but he moved back to nyc with their best friend, dom, in tow. she still misses them to this day and finds it hard to keep friends like she kept them close. the littlest things will remind her of mac and she’ll start to spiral. two years later and she’s still hung up, but she’ll deny it to the very end.

it’s safe to say that when this happened, daysia crumbled. she realized just how many people she’d lost and how many she had -- and she didn’t have anyone at that point, or so she thought. she continued to isolate and stopped answering her phone, and within the week, her mother was there to drag her home to detroit for detox. 

she spent the next few weeks laying in the bathroom, going through withdrawal from alcohol and the various benzos she’d started eating like candy. things were bad. her mother never left her side, and after many na and aa meetings, after snatching pill bottles and miniatures out of her room for months, daysia cleaned up her act. she put on a healthy amount of weight, started working out, went to aa or na two or three times a day until she was comfortable enough to skirt by a day or two without one. she finished up her degree that summer and started waiting tables. she saved up every cent, finally having enough money and credit built up to buy a house where she really wanted to be: peach hollow.

after talking to her old boss, they agreed to take her back on as a crisis counselor when she moved back

so the newly clean and sober (aside from weed lol) daysia is living in a house on blueberry boulevard with @dawsonsawyer​

as for her personality and relationships, daysia excels. she is nurturing, so when a friend, or even a stranger is hurting, she tends to go to their side and comfort them. as long as she can make them laugh, then everything will be okay. she makes friends pretty easily, and keeps them for the most part. she is fiercely loyal and will absolutely scrap to defend her loved ones.

she loves love. there is no gender she isn’t curious about and absolutely loves romance, though she also tries to hide that. her walls are ten feet tall. she’s in to hook ups, flings, and polyamory. she’s very open in that sense!!

FUN FACTS

she has an english bull dog named frank!! he is her pride and joy. she dresses him up in outfits, has regular photo shoots with him and loves going to the dog park. he isn’t legally an emotional support animal, but that’s definitely what he is to her. if he doesn’t like you, she won’t either tbh

she has this lil purple pen looking thing that is always on her. it’s her weed vape and she will hit it anywhere. her dumb head is always in the mfing clouds

she has a spotify family plan that is currently only her, mac, and dom and she will absolutely invite anyone she meets bc spotify premium is something everyone should enjoy

wears a lot of graphic tees and jeans, kinda a tom boy. doesn’t love dressing up but will occasionally. also doesn’t rly like make up but DOES know how to beat her face

1000% unable to be alone for like any period of time?? like if she gets off work and no one is in her apartment she just leaves. she goes next door to mac, goes to the peach pit, anywhere she can socialize. being left to her own thoughts will always turn out poorly.

really loves poetry. cannot write it to save her life, but loves going to slam readings or checking out poetry books from the library. her adhd brain can’t handle novels – poetry is just the right length to keep her attention and dig into her soul.

oh yeah, she’s got some pretty intense untreated adhd lol

OK SO WANTED CONNECTIONS IF UR STILL HERE LMAO

ex-roommate: something happened between daysia and this person, whether it was a relationship gone wrong, a friendship with tension, or just the other person being a damn slob – and daysia removed them from the house and moved someone new in. they are probably on shitty terms.

current flings: a few people are probably on her list of suitors right now. people she spends time with romantically, but hasn’t committed to. she absolutely cannot be alone, at any point… ever! so, she has someone with her at all times. m/f/nb, all good.

party friends:  this one is pretty self explanatory!! these are friends that daysia may or may not talk to outside of a party, but will always cling to at one.

close friends: she lets very few people all the way in, but those that make it are generally taken care of by day. she makes sure that they are as comfortable with life as possible and spends a lot of time with them

exes: as daysia is a ticking time bomb, there have been many people she’s blown off. whether they once hooked up, were together, or what have you, daysia has a lot of exes. she never means to hurt anyone. it just sort of happens and she has accepted it.

[theotakulifechoseme]

Marriage Alphabet for V?

Is... is there any way to change it so my mouse button doesn’t go back a page?!?! It’s an Xtreme gaming mouse that I got from Menards.

-Mama Nidiot

V:

A-About, what about you made them want to marry you?

The affection that they showed V made him want to marry them. Just showing they cared by reminding him to take care of himself, to eat, get enough rest, and even the moments where their skin brushed against his own made his heart flutter. And he makes sure to return the favor.

B-Baby, would they want kids with you as soon as possible?

V wouldn’t mind having kids from the get-go, however, he does ask his partner what they wish. If they wish to have children later, he’ll understand and not press the issue. He knows children are a very big responsibility, and communication is key.

C-Celebration, how would they celebrate your anniversaries?

A picnic on the beach late at night with an extra blanket in case they get cold. For one, it speaks to V’s aesthetics, while for another he loves how the moon and stars reflect off the water and his partner’s eyes. The sounds of waves crashing against the shore also set the mood, along with a few candles. Also, he’s fond of engaging in a childish splashing war against his partner, as it makes the prize, a kiss, all that much sweeter.

D-Divorce, how would they handle if you wanted a divorce? What caused it?

A divorce would just shatter this poor man. V is the type to throw his whole being into marriage and would do whatever he could to try and make it work. However, if the marriage makes his partner unhappy regardless, he is willing to let them go as their happiness matters more to him than his own. As for what caused it? Probably his Devil Hunter lifestyle.

E-Earnest, are they serious about your marriage? Or can they be a little immature about it?

V is 100% serious.

F- Favorite, what was your favorite things before and after you got married to each other?

His favorite thing is just having the time to surprise his partner by showing up on their doorstep with a small trinket or something that caught his eye and reminded him of them. As they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder. After they’re married, his favorite thing is to come home and relax with them on the love seat and read aloud his favorite poems, or theirs, or even a novel or two depending on his mood. And if they have kids, he greatly likes hanging out with them, too, and asking about their day.

G-Giving, do they spoil you?

Not in an over extravagant way, no. V is all about giving his partner praise when it’s due, and maybe teasing them with light kisses that have them begging for more, along with light cresses. V also tends the spoil them by always having their favorite flower(s) on hand. No one, not even Griffon, knows where he gets them from.

H-Honeymoon, what did you two do for your honeymoon?

One thing for sure they did was visit The Musée de Cluny - Musée national du Moyen Âge, Cluny Museum - National Museum of the Middle Ages. V is a sucker for the Gothic and loves strolling through the place. He even geeks out a bit, which is so cute to watch. Also, the Louvre Museum is a must as well as the Notre Dame Cathedral and the Paris Underground Catacombs. Be ready for V to actually scare his beloved while in the catacombs, or even sneaking them away to a private alcove for a quick kiss or two.

I-Invest, how much do they contribute to your marriage?

V contributes a lot to the marriage and expects his partner to do the same.

J-Jealous, do they still get jealous even though you’re completely theirs?

It doesn’t happen as often as it did when they were just dating, however, the little green monster sometimes rears its ugly head when someone blatantly hits on them even though it is obvious they are married. V has threatened others more than once that has come to his partner with unwanted advances, which Griffon gleefully helps with.

K-Kiss, how often would you two kiss? Do you still have that spark?

V’s not gonna outright pull his partner into a deep kiss in the middle of the street or anything, though he may place butterfly kisses on their fingertips or kiss their knuckles, which always sends his partner into a flustered mess. So yeah, there’s always a spark, regardless of the kiss.

L-Live, where would you two settle down at?

V would prefer a home out in the countryside. Maybe a cottage or ranch style home... Though he isn’t opposed to converting a place into a home, mainly if it has an interesting history or something. Like an old church or maybe a classic schoolhouse.

M-Make, do they still make your heart flutter after years of marriage?

Oh yes, V will always make his partner’s heart flutter even after years of being married. He lives for it.

N-Never, what is something they would never do?

Cheat. V is very much a faithful man. He always would never harm his partner either.

O-Opportunity, do you two still get the opportunity to be intimate with one another?

For sure. V just has Kyrie and Nero babysit the kids when they wanna do the naughty.

P-Pet names, what pet names do you two give each other?

“Dear” “Sweetheart” “Love” “Darling” “Beloved” etc are all types of nicknames V calls his partner. His partner mainly calls him “Pretty Boy” “Poe” or, just to be funny, “Sweeny Todd” or “Ichabod” just because it seems to fit (and not that V could totally pull of either of those Johnny Depp characters, what are you talking about?).

Q-Quiet, do you two keep quiet about your marriage? Or do you always brag about one another?

V keeps it relatively quiet. He’s not one to really brag about it, however, if someone asks or needs clarification, he won’t hesitate to say “Yes, [Name] and I are happily married to each other.”

R-Romance, how do you two keep your romance alive?

Candle lit dinners and evening strolls help.

S-Selfie, would they take multiple pictures of you? Would they save them on their phone?

V has a few photos of both of them together on his phone and about 10 or so of just his partner. One of which is his partner reading under a maple tree during late fall when all the leaves have changed color. It was so beautiful that he made it his lock and home screen. In contrast, his partner has hundreds of V, and they have yet to figure out their favorite of just him, but they adore the one Nico took of them carving pumpkins together, with Griffon passing judgment at V’s pumpkin.

T-Teenagers, do you still act like teens when you’re older?

A bit. There are just some things that V cannot help but get giddy about, mainly Halloween. Around that time it is like everything froze from back when they were younger and getting to relive those moments over and over.

U-Unrelenting, what hasn’t stopped since you two got married?

V picking up little trinkets from the times he’s gone on his Devil Hunting missions. Without fail, he always brings something back that reminds him of his partner.

V-Valentine’s Day, what plans do you two make?

V always plans for them to either see a concert, be it classical or rock music, or a play/opera before going out to eat. One year it might be all dressing up and glam, while the next its more down to earth and homey.

W-Wedding, what was your wedding like?

You’d think it’d be this small classy affair... Nope, V is just as prone to the dramatics as the other DMC guys are. V wanted a small outdoor wedding that seemed like something out of a renaissance romance. Everyone would’ve expected fairies and elves being apart of it if they didn’t know any better.

X-X-Ray, can you two see through each other? Can you see when you’re lying or not?

Given that he’s pretty perceptive, V has an easy time reading his partner, though, on the other hand, his partner has a hard time reading V because he is so good at bottling up his real feelings. They just trust that with time he will come to them in his own time.

Y-Yearly Tradition, what do you two do every year for your wedding anniversary?

Normally travel to places that are rich in history and art and explore, similar to their honeymoon.

Z-Zesty, Give me your own zesty letters!

What do I even put for this, like really????