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ashintheairlikesnow · 3 years

Note

Seconding the 'mob guys watching over Chris for Paul's suggestion!

CW: References to murder/mob organization stuff, references to parental death, grief, referenced past whump of a minor

Every Tuesday at 9 am, just like clockwork, Sean Malley lumbers into a coffeeshop nestled into the corner of a flat featureless strip mall. Contrasting to the pale concrete nothingness of its surrounding, the little coffeeshop is painted a warm, rich brown along the exterior, with heavy platers spilling over with purple and yellow flowers every few feet until Sean reaches the door.

It’s a welcome bit of individuality along this ring of small strip malls and larger big-box stores kept out of the city proper by a pile of zoning laws too draconian to fight. He’s been coming here for ten years now, more or less, and has seen the little coffeshop through its earliest days struggling for business right to now, where he feels reasonably certain he’ll be dead long before they close this place for good.

He moves inside, the light immediately warm and slightly dimmed. The scent in the air of freshly roasted coffee beans and baked goods. The cannolis they sell came from him, Sean’s proud of that - his wife had a favorite recipe and he’d given it to them after she passed, hoping for one batch for the service. They’d just kept making them, having one ready for him when he popped in, and... well, they’ve sold them ever since. Even call them Christa’s Cannolis, handwritten in cursive on a little placard. She’d have been tickled pink, he thinks sometimes, to see it.

One of his knees comes and goes as it pleases these days, giving his step a bit of a shuffle-scrape. He’s smiling, though, and humming as he goes.

Life is good for Sean Malley, all things considered.

Truth be told, he hadn't actually expected to live this long. Keeping close to Conor and his family had paid off in the early days - just as his instincts had kept him safe when the Garden erupted in in-fighting, too. When the Clean-Up happened, during the Garden’s most vicious in-fighting, Sean had seen half the men he’d watched start as snot-nosed dumbasses taken out one by one, clearing the way for Conor’s fucking grandson to make his play for power.

Those kids who’d run lookout gigs and then moved on to guard duty or work with the cargo coming in... one by one those kids-turned-adults, with families of their own, had been removed from the picture. Fifteen, all told, a bloodbath stretched out over six months - sixteen, of course, if you count how Paul’s murder went all wrong.

The one comfort had been watching Conor’s grandson lay the groundwork for his own comeuppance the whole time - promising favors for loyalty and then killing the ones he’d promised those favors to. That’s no way to start yourself as leader, and... well.

Trash had been taken out, in the end. Riley Higgs had gotten rid of the poison - and the poison’s friends - and his crew’s a damn sight better than Conor’s grandson’s people had been.

Riley, for one thing, understands that an organization like the Garden works, in the end, on trust. On being a family.

Don’t kill your family without a good damn reason, now do you?

Now Riley... he had a good reason. And Sean had made sure Riley Higgs knew a few very important facts that kept him on the man’s good side, and very much alive when the dust settled.

Even if he had did have to live with a bum knee. And back. And his hip’s started twinging every time it rains...

"Morning, Mr. Malley!" His favorite barista calls out, giving him a wave from behind the counter. She's a pretty thing, just cute as a button. Probably in her late twenties but when you’re as old as Sean is, everyone looks like a child playing pretend.

Still, it always brings a bit of sun in the old man's day to see her bright pink hair before he ever takes his seat. He always tells her she should move on from here, do something with her life other than serve old men their coffee and watch them while away the hours.

But I like it here, Melody always replies, giving a little shrug of her shoulders. I like our regulars, too. Besides, this place pays better than the job I’d get with my actual degree.

"G'morning to you, Melody!" He calls back, moving to have a seat in his usual spot, sinking gratefully into the plush armchair by the bookshelf in the corner. His favorite coffee table book, a heavy thing full of photos of World War II, is already laid out on the side table next to it, bookmarked where he’d left off last week. "Busy day, today?"

Melody is already heading his way, coffee in hand just how he likes it, one of Christa’s Cannolis on a small plate in the other. Sean’s doctor has been on him about cutting out sugar, and he’s done it just about everywhere else, but he still has his cannoli on Tuesdays. Christa had been so proud of herself when she’d mastered that recipe...

"Not really,” Melody says with a shrug, breaking into his thoughts. “Just the usual morning rush and a couple college kids, wandered outside but they left their drinks, I figure they’ll come back. One of 'em looks like he got mauled by a real weak bear."

Sean feigns surprise. "Oh, does he now?" He takes a sip of his coffee and sighs happily. "Not too hot. You had it out already, didn't you?"

"I saw your car pull into the lot," Melody says, giving a little it's nothing gesture. “I knew you’d be in, so I kept an eye out for you.”

"You're a doll, Melody, and this place would be lost without you." He presses the twenty-dollar bill into her hand, and when she protests, he shakes his head, adds another ten, and closes her hand firmly around the cash. "Take it, take it. I'm an old man on my own, who've I got to spend it on, huh?"

"You're not that old, Mr. Malley," Melody sighs, an old song and dance between them. “You’ve got grandkids who could use it, too, you know.”

"Ha! Trust that my grandkids never want for anything, Melody. Besides, live the life I've lived, and sixty feels like eighty-two. Go on, then. Cilly'll be along in a bit."

He sits back to drink his coffee as she heads back behind the counter, watching through the front window the cars that pass along the highway, the scattering of people getting in and out of their own vehicles in the parking lot. It's a perfect, and perfectly normal, Tuesday morning. Just like any other.

A perfectly normal Tuesday where one creature of habit makes it a point to get a quick look at another.

A flash of red catches his eye, and he frowns, watching a bright red Northern cardinal alight on the bench placed outside the shop, preening one wing briefly and then seeming to look towards the lot.

Sean follows its gaze, silently chastising himself for being so utterly taken by a simple bird, but... Northern cardinals are more or less unheard of around here, especially in the city. This one seems to cock its head in his direction.

"Someone," He mutters to himself, "is a bit lost."

There's a peal of laughter, as the door opens, the little bell on top chiming to announce them, and there they are.

Two young people walking inside, heads tilted together. One of them has thick, wavy black hair, one of those haircuts the younger people like so much now, shaved on the sides but long on top. The younger guys in the Family wear their hair like that now and then.

Sean thinks he liked it better when everyone kept things neat and tidy, but times change, and the Garden can't stagnate just because an old timer's got opinions. Riley’s take is he’d rather is people look like they could be anybody anywhere, and Sean has to admit the kind of haircut he’d like to see would stick out like a sore thumb.

Both of them are wearing all black head to toe, the black-haired one in a tank top and baggy pants, a large yellow lightning bolt on a cord settled just below their collarbone. Honestly, if he gets past the hair thing, they’re cute as a button, too.

Really, though, he’s not here because of them.

He’s here to get a good look at the young man walking in beside them.

It’s funny - it’s been nine - ten? - years since he last saw Paul Higgs alive, the day before he and his sweet Ronnie were gunned down in their own home in the night... but tears still prick at the corners of Sean’s eyes when he see the ghost of Paul in his son’s narrow face.

There’d been a joke when the little one first came into the world, that somehow Paul and Ronnie had put together a child where her genetics simply skipped out entirely. He’d been a little clone of Paulie from the start, and he’s different as a man than he’d been as a child lining toy cars up at their feet in the warehouse on Saturdays when Ronnie needed a break.

Sean pulls his phone out, idly scrolling - his daughter had helped him to get Facebook and a couple other things besides, including some kind of app that had his favorite card games. He pretends now to be fascinated by something he sees, but in truth he pulls his camera up and starts recording.

“It, it, it could change everything,” Paulie’s boy is saying, breathlessly excited, hands moving through the air in a blend of gesture and general happiness. “You see? Everything! Make it, it, it-it safer, make... make things better.”

“I know, I know,” The other one replies, deep voice warm and thick with love, and Sean sighs, missing his Christa now more than ever. He consoles himself with a bite of cannoli. “I already told you I’m in, Chris, okay? I’m going to help you. You don’t have to sell me on it.”

Tristan ducks his head with a shy smile, and boy if he isn’t Paul’s spitting image in that, too. Paulie hadn’t smiled much, not like his kid does - maybe that’s what he got from Ronnie - but in a smile like that, well... you could see where he got it from. If you’d known Paul, of course.

Which the kid didn’t, not anymore.

“It could, um, be dangerous though.” They’re barely audible now as they go back to where they left their still-steaming drinks, sitting down on a nearby couch. “Nat’s worried. And, and, and you know Jake-”

“Chris, you could walk across a crosswalk when the light starts blinking and Jake would still worry about you,” The other one teases. Sean knows their name, but right now it won’t quite come to mind, lingering on the tip of is tongue, never quite landing. “It’ll be public, yeah-”

“Telling everyone who... who, who I am.” Tristan starts tapping his fingers on his pants, a peculiar finger-twist-tap-tap-tap gesture that Sean once knew as well as anyone, when the boy was small. But it’s the words, with a hint of nervousness lining them, that get his attention. “The... the whole world’s going to, to, to to-to-... to... to know about Tristan Higgs.”

Now that gets Sean’s attention. He cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and starts a new one. It takes work not to sit up, or drop his cannoli, or in some other way give himself away.

He knows, then?

How?

Sean looks down at his phone, looking over the scar on Paul’s boy’s forehead, the only remaining evidence of what had been much more visible the first couple times they’d seen him out after it happened. Sean and Cilly had figured maybe a fight - people get into them, really. Paul wasn’t exactly gentle as a lamb, and why would his boy be?

But now... he wondered. His instincts told him the two were related, and of course he knew from the time they’d worked with WRU pretty closely under the table that those memory things they did sometimes failed. Sean had done a fixer job once for someone whose pet had recovered memories too fast and killed a servant in a panic...

“Oh, Paul,” Sean murmurs. “What’d your boy do, hm?”

“I’m, I’m going to to to t-... to tell everyone who I am,” Paul’s boy is saying, leaning forward and taking the hands of the other one in his own, squeezing them tight. “I’m... will, will, will you come with me? When, when I... so someone’s there?”

“What? Holy shit, Chris, go to the Olympics? With you?” They inhale and exhale, blowing some hair from their eyes, and smile. “You should take someone who knows more than I do about all that stuff, Chris, take Jake, or-”

“Jake has has to stay here. To, to protect the house. But... will you come with me?”

Sean cuts the video, sends it to Riley, and this time adds a message.

Olympics are in Chicago this year. What’s Paul Jr. planning?

He feels eyes on him and glances up to find Tristan looking over at him, an expression of uncertainty on his face. Sean’s been watching him for years, popping up in places, the way you sometimes see the same faces at the corner store, the mom-and-pop, a coffeeshop like this one. Now, he watches Tristan look him over, knowing he’s familiar but not knowing why. Part of him, with a pinprick of an old, old grief, wishes Paul’s little boy would recognize him now.

Most of him knows it’s better if he doesn’t.

Tristan looks away, and goes back to talking, but his voice lowers and now Sean can’t quite pick up what he’s saying beyond a few scattered words. He gets a couple photos of the lovebirds with their head together, sipping coffee, and sends those on to Riley, too.

Job done, he settles back to finish his cannoli and drink his coffee. Tristan and-... Laken, his name suddenly supplies, only an hour after he’d started trying to remember it - get up and leave, Tristan’s arm around Laken’s waist.

Good for the kid, Sean thinks, with a smile. By this age Paul had an elementary school son running around, but you know, it’s good to take your time on these things, and it’s nice to see that all the shit they’ve had to stand back and watch still wraps up nicely into Paul’s boy living a pretty nice life indeed.

His phone dings just as Cilly enters - right on time at 10, like clockwork - and he glances down to open the message from Riley.

I’ll get one of our guys to look into it. This might give us the out on the business I don’t want to be in I’ve been looking for. Kid looks good, looks like Paul. Family genes run deep.

Sean greets Cilly, even older than him but a sight more spry, and glances out the window. The bird’s gone from the bench, of course. The day is bright and shining.

In Laken’s car, they’re halfway back to the house Laken shares with their roommates when Chris suddenly sits straight up. “Mr. Malley,” He breathes out, green eyes widening.

Laken jumps - he’d been silent, preoccupied and in thought - and nearly jerks the car into a curb. “Damn, Chris! You scared me. What’d you say?”

“The old guy, in, in, in the the the the-the-... the coffeeshop, who kept looking at, at me.” Chris rocks forward, hands on the dashboard, his eyes staring ahead but not at the road, they’re looking far ahead... or behind himself, back in time and not space, when and not where. “His name’s Mr. Malley. I, I, I knew-... my dad knew, my, my, my dad, my dad-”

He winces, the headache splitting him apart, and Laken hits their turn signal, pulling into the parking lot of a generic fast food place, swinging into a parking space and turning to look at him.

“Chris? You okay?”

Chris’s face has gone pale, cold sweat breaking out. It still happens, sometimes, and when they lean over to touch his shoulder he flinches back from them, instinctively.

Laken exhales. “Okay. Ride it out, Chris. Let the memory go if it’s hurting, it’ll come back to you. They all come back now.”

“No! No, I, I, I want-... Mr. Malley knew my dad, I went to-... work, with, with him sometimes, his his his wife babysat me, I... I know him. I knew him. I knew-” He turns to look at them, and they fight the urge to try and touch him again.

Not yet.

“Do you... do you think, think, think he knew me?”

Laken swallows. “I don’t think so. Wouldn’t he have said something, if he recognized you? If he was your dad’s friend? Are you absolutely sure that-”

“Yes, I’m, I’m sure. I know it was him. I, I, I know, he, he, he gave me me me Dinotopia books... for Christmas one year...” Chris jerked in a breath and let it out again, hands going up over his head, folding himself in half until his forehead rested on the dashboard, pressed to the cool molded plastic. “He, he, he, he came to their funeral, he hugged me, he said, you’re too young to to to to have to lose so much, and everyone said-... everyone said stuff I hated but but but not him, he said, he said-”

“Chris, please, don’t hurt yourself doing this-”

“He said grief gets worse before it gets better, and and and and he said-... he said... he said don’t let anyone tell you that R-Ronnie’d want you to to to be strong, she’d want you to scream your head off if you want to, your dad’d be proud if if if if-if... if you told us all to go to hell, and... and and and and it felt like he was the only person who who who knew them at all that day, everyone said, said, said stupid things but not him, not-... not him and not Mr. Cilly, not-... not my Aunt Jo, not anybody, but he-”

Chris chokes on a sob and when Laken throws their arms around him he melts into it this time, crying against their shoulder, the two of them uncomfortably arched over the center console and the gear shift.

“It’s okay,” Laken whispers, running their fingers over the slowly growing fuzz of his hair. “It’s okay. Let it ride, Chris. It’s okay.”

“He, he, he was my dad’s b-b-best friend-... Why d-didn’t he, if he saw me, why wouldn’t he-... I s-see him all th-the the the time, why doesn’t he know who I am?”

“Maybe he’s like Akio,” Laken says, and feels him trembling under their touch. “Maybe he’s always thought you were dead.”

“I w-was,” Chris whispers “When I, I, I was Baldur. When I was training. When... when I... was good. I was dead.”

“Chris-”

“I was dead,” Chris says, and they kiss his head, helpless to think of anything else to do. “When my p-parents died, I died, too. Mr. Malley made m-me feel like I I I wasn’t. Why didn’t he kn-know me? Why didn’t a-anyone know I was alive?”

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”

“Hurts,” Chris whispers. “Why, why, why didn’t anyone help me before she she she-... before I was-... why didn’t anyone help me?”

Laken’s own eyes burn, and they draw circles on his scalp with their fingertips. “I can’t answer that,” They say, low and soft. “I’m sorry. But you know you have people who can and will help you now.”

For a while, Chris’s only sounds are sobs, and Laken can only make soft soothing nonsense noises and feel like shit that it’s not enough.

“Ev, everyone knew she-she hated me,” Chris whimpers, and sounds younger than he ever has, and Laken wants to throw a punch or scream and they can’t do either, only sit in the car and glare at people who look in as they walk past. “Everyone.”

“Chris-”

“Everyone knew, why, why, why why why didn’t they stop her?”

Back in the coffeeshop, Sean and Cilly are in the midst of an argument about a baseball game that happened 30 years ago when his phone rings. He holds up one finger and picks it up, lifting it to his ear.

“I have a job for you,” Riley says, with his cheerful hint of brogue. Funny, to remember that this part of the family only came here a few decades ago. “It’s a job I know you’ll enjoy.”

“Watching Paul’s boy is my retirement gig,” Sean says amicably. “You know I don’t do the dangerous stuff any longer, Mr. Higgs.”

There’s a silence. “I’m going to do some looking into what you sent me. But in the meantime I need to give you a job, and you’re going to do it.”

“And why is that, Mr. Higgs?”

“Because you’re going to want to do this.”

“What is it, then?”

Another pause.

“I want you to find Joanne Botham.”

Sean thinks of the dour, angry woman who had ignored Tristan in his funeral suit, gathering mourners around her while she sobbed over Ronnie’s loss, Ronnie’s own son alone on a couch staring off into space until Sean himself had sat down and told him, don’t let ‘em say your mom’d be proud of you bein’ stoic today, kiddo. Ronnie’d want you to scream if you felt the urge.

The kid had looked at him like he’d been given water in the desert, a starving man offered a bowlful of broth. Mr. Malley?

People will say a lot of real stupid stuff to you today, Sean had said. His eyes had gone to Joanne Botham, and Ronnie’s sister’s icy glare when she looked at her own nephew had made his blood run cold with anger even then. Likely in the future, too. But you just remember Paul and Ronnie weren’t saints. And they’d never want you to be, either. I’m sorry for your loss, Tris. No one on God’s earth has loved their kid like yours loved you. Should’ve seen his face when he told us your mom was pregnant with you. Could’ve lit the world with all the sunshine there.

A clap on the back, a whispered thank you, and that had been the last day Sean Malley had ever seen Tristan Higgs alive.

Until, of course, Riley had told him there was a boy living in a pet liberation safehouse who looked remarkably like Paul. Until, of course, Riley had shared that he’d known Tristan Higgs was alive all along. Until, of course, Sean had been told he couldn’t make a move because WRU was protecting all the players who had stolen his friend’s kid.

Until... now.

“Mr. Higgs?” His voice drops, and Cilly sits up, alarmed at the sudden change in tone.

“You heard me. Find Joanne Botham. I have a feeling we are about to get the opportunity we’ve been waiting for.”

The phone goes dead on the other end, and Sean slowly sets it down, finishing his second cup of coffee in a gulp. Then he looks at Cilly, and starts to smile.

“Riley’s got work for us,” He says, and when Cilly’s eyebrows raise he doesn’t wait for him to ask for more. “Don’t worry. You’re going to like it. Finally get to do what we should have done ten fucking years ago.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump , @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @vickytokio @whumpiary @orchidscript @moose-teeth @nonsensical-whump

#whump #speak out arc #chris the strawberry blond romantic #emotional whump #grief tw #referenced parental death #referenced past whump of a minor #referenced murder #memory loss #memory recovery #recovering whumpee #caretaker and whumpee #hi made myself cry during chris's part towards the end wheeeee

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 4 years

Text

Choose Me Instead II Draco Malfoy x Reader II Chapter 4 of 27: Potions

Summary: Pretending to be in a relationship with Draco Malfoy to get back at your ex might have not been the smartest idea you ever had. Especially during your last year of Hogwarts where you should be focusing on exams and your future plans. However, you were just pretending. There was no way in hell you could actually catch feelings for someone like Malfoy. … Right?

CHAPTER 3

A/N: I’m blown away by how many people have started reading my fic. Thank you all so much <3

Words: 3550 Pairing: Draco Malfoy x female!Reader, post-war Warnings: mentions of sex, references to trauma in the form of nightmares

The moments you and Malfoy shared on the Quidditch field that Saturday night kept replaying in your head for weeks. It’s beneath you. The sentence had stuck with you. You knew he was right about it. Ron Weasley didn’t deserve any more of your attention. However, it seemed impossible to get rid of the anger that filled you every time you saw him.

You spent so many days together and never wanted to fall for him – no, you tried to stay away when he first approached you, feeling it was not right. Hermione was your friend and you knew, this behavior would hurt her. But he wouldn’t stop trying to get you to go out with him and before you knew it, he teared down all the walls you had so carefully built around yourself. It was the first time in a long while that you felt like a normal teenager and just when you started to trust him and the first feelings started to blossom – he turned away, acting like your time together never happened. It hurt. It hurt so fucking much. And who was Malfoy to understand that?

You avoided Ron whenever possible, keeping yourself busy with schoolwork and Quidditch. For the first time ever you joined the team and it turned out to be an amazing decision as it took your mind of things. Things mainly being Ron or Malfoy.

You watched Malfoy during meals out of the corner of your eyes. He usually sat together with Zabini, Parkinson and Nott, listening to them but not joining in the conversations apart from the occasional smile or remark. In class, he sat in the back, working quietly on his own. Sometimes you passed him in the hallways or the library and then you noticed him writing in the black notebook over and over.

A strange fascination kept drawing your attention towards the young man. He was not the Malfoy you grew accustomed to over the years – no more stupid fights or devious pranks. A lot less mean remarks and insults. Of course you knew the reason behind his change but it didn’t stop you from searching for his white blond hair in the crowds, wanting to watch him from afar.

You wondered about his life. He spoke about so many personal things that night. Although it was always with a sarcastic or cynical undertone, the painful honesty behind his words now sent shivers down your back when you thought about it. Yet, not once did you talk to him again afterwards – and he avoided you too as far as you could tell. At least, he always looked away when your eyes accidentally met from across the room, focusing on the book in front of him again. That notebook was another riddle. Although you already guessed what it was, you were curious nonetheless.

Soon the days grew colder and the leaves turned brown. Less time was spent outside, more and more did you find yourself huddled in front of the common room fireplace with a mug of hot tea and a good book. Hogwarts started to feel like home again. It was a slow process but each day the memories began to be replaced with new ones. Better ones. For some it was harder than for others. Ginny was one of them. She smiled and laughed loudly during the days but some nights were still difficult.

Tonight was one of them. You opened your eyes, blinking a few times as you needed a moment to fully wake up. Something startled you in your sleep. Then you heard someone tossing and turning – it came from Ginnys bed. You reached for your wand and whispered “Lumos”. Shining the light towards your friend, you saw her distorted facial expressions as her hands kept twitching. She was mumbling something you didn’t understand at first but then one word stood out – Fred.

You were up on your feet in seconds, kneeling next to her bed. “Ginny,” you softly touched her arm. “Ginny, wake up.”

Her eyes flew open and a gasp escaped her lips.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “Just a nightmare.”

“I-I saw –,” she stuttered and looked at you, slowly realizing where she was. When she did however, she remembered about him as well. You saw what would happen next by the way her lips started to tremble and without hesitation pulled her into a hug. Tears were streaming down her face, quiet sobs shaking her whole body. You held her for minutes, stroking her back, wishing you could do something to ease her pain.

At some point Ginny let go of you, reaching for a tissue on her nightstand. “I’m sorry for waking you up,” she mumbled after cleaning her nose.

You smiled empathetically at her. “Don’t worry.”

She sighed, smiling back at you sadly before she started rummaging through the drawer. “Damn,” she pulled out an empty bottle.

“What is it?”, you asked.

“It helps me sleep,” she explained and added – after she saw your worried expression – with a chuckle: “It’s nothing addicting, don’t worry. It’s just … ugh, I knew I forgot something.” She let herself fall back against the pillow.

“Where do you normally get it from?” You looked at the small bottle. It didn’t look like she bought it somewhere. It looked handmade.

“Madame Pomfrey.”

You nodded, standing up to grab a robe. “I’ll get it.”

“No! Oh, Y/N, please don’t, I can manage,” Ginny tried to protest but you shook your head.

“It’s fine, really!”, you smiled at her.

“She’s probably asleep anyways.”

“She always has someone working the night shift. I’ll just grab that –,” you took the battle and put it in the pocket of your robe. “– and I’ll be right back.”

***

Hogwarts at night always felt a little creepy. Dark and long hallways, ghosts passing you by and that eerie silence … A shiver ran down your spine and you sped up a little, wanting to be back in bed as fast as possible.

The door to the hospital wing was open, illuminated by a glimmer of light coming from inside. Good, so someone was there. You slipped through the door and made your way towards the office of Madame Pomfrey.

“Come in,” she called when you knocked on the door.

She was turned away from you, her nose stuck in a book. To your surprise, she wasn’t the only one in the small office. In front of her desk stood no other than … Draco Malfoy.

“Oh.”

Malfoy didn’t look at you. “The healer that has worked for my family for decades said it’s alright,” he said with a pressed voice, directing it at Madame Pomfrey.

The woman sighed softly before she turned around. “Well, honey, your healer probably also gets paid by your family.”

“What that’s supposed to mean?”, Malfoy asked, sounding almost offended.

“Nothing,” she replied. “But I disagree with him. Although the medicine has no immediate side effects, prolonged and excessive use of it can make it stop working altogether. I believe, this wouldn’t help you very much either and –”

“I know, I know,” he interrupted her, clearly having had this talk before.

Madame Pomfrey continued talking in a stern voice: “I refilled your bottle twice during the past ten days – it says so in my book here and I keep very good track of all my patients – so I can’t give you anymore.” A sad smile appeared on her face. “I’m sorry, honey. I can however offer you this.“ She pulled a small cotton bag from one of the drawers. “It contains different herbs. Put it under your pillow and it’ll help you sleep.“

Malfoy hung his head, looking defeated and exhausted. „What about the … dreams?“

„I’m so sorry, honey, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

With another sigh, he finally gave in and took the cotton bag. “Good night,” he muttered and left the room, without even glancing in your direction.

Feeling as if you had just witnessed something that wasn’t meant for you to see, you stood awkwardly in the corner of the room, waiting for the healer to speak.

“Poor boy,” she mumbled and shook her head with a sad expression. Then she looked at you: “What are you here for, dear?”

You took a step forward, holding up the bottle.

“Oh dear, this is really in demand tonight,” she took it from you.

So Malfoy was using the same medicine as Ginny? Interesting.

“It’s for Ginny Weasley,” you explained. “She’s not doing well tonight so I came to get it.”

Madame Pomfrey nodded, quickly glancing into her patient book. Then she disappeared behind a few shelves and came back with a fully filled bottle. “It’s been a while for her. I’m glad to see she’s needing less,” she said. “Give her my best. Good night, honey!”

“Good night,” you replied, smiling at her.

Stepping outside the office, you were surprised to see Malfoy leaning against the hospital wing doors. He looked nervous, shifting uncomfortably, drawing circles on the ground with his foot.

“You forget something?”, you asked when you reached him.

He looked at you for the first time, his eyes taking your pajamas and bathrobe. “Nice outfit,” he sneered.

“Have you looked in the mirror?”, you replied sarcastically, pushing the doors open. You referred to the sweatpants and the oversized shirt he was wearing, surprised someone like Malfoy even owned such clothes.

He followed you outside. “I was just –”, he began after a moment. “I wanted to make sure –”

“I haven’t met anyone on my way to Madame Pomfrey. She was alone in her office,” you interrupted him, guessing where this was going.

“Right,” Malfoy mumbled.

“Anything else?” You stopped by a large staircase. “I have to go up here.”

He shook his head. “No.” After a brief moment of hesitation, he added: “Good night, Y/L/N.”

You could hear the unspoken ‘thank you’ within those three words and sent him a very tired smile, just wanting to get back to bed. “Night, Malfoy.”

***

You were the first to arrive at the Potions classroom and leaned against the cold stone wall with a yawn. It was the last class for today and you looked forward to going back to your room for a quick nap.

Ginny had fallen asleep quickly after you had brought her the medicine and so did you. Although, you had a restless night after that, waking up countless times from weird dreams. All of them featuring one specific person: Malfoy. The two of you walking through the Forbidden Forest, sitting in your childhood room, talking on the Astronomy Tower. Waking up confused and not feeling rested at all, you wondered what it meant. Why would you ever dream of him? Just because you talked a couple of times and you accidentally got involved in very personal situations? Just because you kissed once? Oh, the kiss – also a frequent visitor in your dreams. Not that it meant anything. He was an objectively good kisser, nothing more, nothing less.

“Y/N?”

You looked up when someone called your voice. Ron walked towards you, noticeably agitated.

“You have a couple minutes?”, he asked.

No, was your immediate thought. “Yes.”

“Good, good,” he looked behind himself, checking if anyone else was in the hallway, fiddling nervously with his hands. “It’s about Hermione.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Well, I know you told Ginny about … us,” he started. “She screamed at me more than once for it.”

You suppressed a smile.

“Anyways, I was wondering … please don’t tell Hermione,” Ron finally managed to get out.

His request irritated you. “Don’t you think I would have told her by now if I wanted her to know?”

“I … No, I don’t know,” he shrugged. “You know how girls are.”

“Excuse me?” There it was again – the all too familiar rage starting to form inside of you. “How are we girls?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just noticed you’ve been avoiding me ever since school started and Hermione even started questioning me about this and I’m afraid it’s some sort of plan of yours to … y’know, get back at me.”

“What the fuck, Ron! How manipulative do you think I am?”, you spat at him. “I don’t care about your stupid relationship and I’m not getting involved. I know it’s hard for you to comprehend but some people actually still have values and don’t treat their supposed friends like shit!”

“Treat you like shit?”, now he started to raise his voice as well. “When have I ever –”

You interrupted him: “Don’t act dumber than you are!”

His face slowly began to turn red. “I never once said we were anything serious!”

“You joked about us moving in together after school!”

“Yes, Y/N,” he hissed. “I joked about it.”

You started at him in disbelief. “You’re such a jerk.”

“And you’re … you’re … ugh,” he stammered, his face still glowing red. “It’s not like I don’t have any feelings for you! I had a huge crush on you but Hermione …” He crossed his arms. “I can’t have both and she’s …”

“No, you can’t,” you glared at him. “Now, get the fuck away from me.”

Ron clenched his teeth, not making any efforts to follow your demand. “You have to promise me you won’t tell her!”

This guy was unbelievable. “I don’t have to do anything!”

“Y/N, you have to –”

“Has your mother taught you no manners, Weasley?”, a sudden voice said behind him. Malfoy arrived at the classroom door, nonchalantly letting his bag slip from his shoulders and leaning against the wall across from you. “She wants you to leave her alone.”

Irritatedly, Ron looked at him. “Shut your mouth, Malfoy. I’m talking to Y/N!”

“No, you’re harassing her,” his voice was cold as ice. “So leave or you’ll regret it.”

Ron scoffed. “Yeah, right. What are you gonna do, Death Eater?”

“Mr. Weasley!” Professor Slughorn stood in the now open to the classroom, looking at the three of you in shock. “How dare you insult your fellow classmate like that?”

Ron’s eyes widened. “I’m … He provoked me, Professor!” He pointed a finger at Malfoy who raised his hand in a ‘I-don’t-know-what-he’s-talking-about’-gesture.

Slughorn shook his head in disappointment. “Mr. Weasley, you will come with me. You two”, he looked at you and Malfoy. “Class will start in ten minutes. You can come in once your classmates arrive.”

You nodded and Ron trotted inside, head hanging low. Then the door closed behind him. Turning towards Malfoy, he was watching you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Beneath you,” he mouthed silently.

Letting out a huff of air, you rolled your eyes. “I don’t need you to come to my rescue. Ever.”

He shrugged. “I didn’t come to your rescue though. I just can’t stand the sound of Weasleys voice.”

“Right,” you stood up straight.

Anger and disbelief were the only two emotions you felt in this moment. To think that just three months ago, you were head over heels falling for this boy – and now, he acted like such an idiot. Running around, completely disregarding the feelings of others. Your feelings. Your eyes began to burn and you swallowed hard, trying to keep the tears from coming. He didn’t deserve any of that.

You could feel Malfoy still watching you. Thankfully, he stayed quiet.

Finally, the others arrived. Inside the classroom, you were met by an angry looking Ron. “Two weeks of detention,” he hissed when Harry sat down next to him. “For telling the truth about Malfoy! Can you believe it?!”

Serves you right, you thought.

“Open your book, page 124,” Slughorn announced when the students had settled down. “You’ll work on the assignment in pairs of two. Following pupils will work together: Miss Parkinson and Miss Granger …”

Before he could continue, both girls started to protest. He raised his hand. “No, you cannot switch. As we told you in the beginning of the school year, we will actively try to demolish the house rivalry. Making you work together is an important step towards this goal. So, let me continue, please. Mister Zabini and Mister Finnigan, Miss Weasley and Mister Nott, Mister Malfoy and Miss Y/L/N …”

Oh for gods sake. Did the universe desperately plotted to get the two of you to spend time together? Suppressing a groan, you grabbed your books, going over to Malfoys table at the back of the class.

Wordlessly, he grabbed his bag, removing it from the chair next to him.

“Seven years of not talking alone once and now I have to put up with you every second day.” You wanted the sentence to come out nicer than it did and mentally slapped yourself for sounding so mean.

Nevertheless, Malfoy nodded in agreement. “I’m just as thrilled about this as you are, Y/L/N.”

The two of you started working quietly and efficiently. Potions had always come easy to you, even when Snape used to be the teacher, and apparently, Malfoy seemed to be just as skilled.

“Did you tell anyone?”, you broke the silence suddenly while stirring the violet liquid inside the cauldron.

He quickly glanced at you. “If I did you would have noticed.”

Probably true.

“Did you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

The two of you continued working for a while. You kept glancing at Malfoy, remembering the dreams from last night. A strange sense of curiosity formed inside of you. You watched him, the way he read the instructions carefully, mumbling to himself at times. Then suddenly your eyes began trailing off, wandering down to your lips. The moment in the storage room suddenly flashed before your eyes and without noticing, you licked over your own lips.

“Enjoying the view, Y/L/N?“

You realized in terror that Malfoy had stopped working and was now looking at you with an amused expression.

“No, what, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you uttered, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“Don’t worry, I know of the effect I can have on women.“

You snorted. „You’re awfully arrogant, Malfoy.“

„It’s the truth. Not even good Gryffindors such as yourself can resist the Malfoy charm,” he chuckled to himself.

“In your dreams, Malfoy.“

He didn’t reply to that but instead smirked at you, causing you to blush even more. “Don’t worry, my standards aren’t low enough for you.”

“Says the girl who slept with Weasley,” he had leaned in and whispered those words very close to your ear.

You knew no one could have possibly heard him but flinched nevertheless and lightly hit his arm. “Shh!”

Malfoy chuckled. “We’re done, Professor,” he then announced loudly and stepped back from the table.

Slughorn came over, taking a good look at your work. “Mhm, very well done,” he concluded after a moment. “You’ll receive an excellent mark for that. Well done! You can clean up and then start your homework assignment. Page 125.”

You smiled at the old man, happy about his praise and happy, that working together with Malfoy had been such an easy task,

“Anyways,” you began when the two of you had cleaned the table and stored everything away. “How’s that whole thing going?” You nodded towards the place where Astoria Greengrass was sitting.

Malfoy simply shrugged. “Every day I’m one step closer to go looking for a fake girlfriend.”

You snorted.

It was a strange feeling, having disliked Malfoy for so long and now being able to converse so easily. In your mind, you knew it would have been smarter to stay away, avoid him whenever possible. At least for your family that was the smarter approach. He had been a Death Eater and even though you’d never bring it up and strongly believed in second chances, his family still upheld these values. They still fought on the wrong side of the war. It disturbed you how effortlessly you had formed a connection with him.

You looked up from your book when you felt that strange sensation of someone staring at you. A little irritated, you searched the room with your eyes. It was Ron. The redhead was staring at you angrily from across the class and when you saw him like that, the weirdest thought popped into your head:

How mad would he be if I were to be Malfoys girlfriend?

It was a crazy thought, nothing you planned on taking seriously. But Ron admitted he had felt something for you. So how funny would it be to pretend you were dating his childhood enemy? Oh, he would be fuming.

You looked over to Malfoy who was scribbling on a piece of paper. No. No, this was too crazy. Right? Of course, it would be just for fun – just to get back at Ron. He even accused you of having some sort of plan to hurt him. You never considered yourself a person who was interested in revenge but this would be harmless. It wouldn’t even count as revenge. It would help Malfoy out and piss Ron off. Win-win. A few months of playing ‘happy couple’ in public and it would be done. A simple task. No way would you be able to develop any deeper feelings for that Slytherin. No way.

***

I hope you liked it! I’d love to hear your thoughts about this chapter! <3 A/N: I’m sorry that it takes me a while to get to the whole fake relationship thing. But it would feel so rushed so that’s why I’m trying to slow it down a little. I hope you can understand <3

CHAPTER 5

“Choose Me Instead” Masterlist HP Masterlist Tags: @writerdee1701, @youareinllve, @sjmahoney, @detroitobsessed, @takura-rin, @jadam268, @wynterwind, @mina672, @renaissance-confiance, @harpoon999, @doitforthevine67, @rinasrights, @flowerpowerpixie, @gold-flowing, @starkssnarks, @bookcornerkins, @harpersmariano, @markedsweetly, @iraniq, @pointlesscoconut, @hvrcruxes, @pillowjj, @idkatee, @jungjxxhyun, @magicwithaknife, @graystherapy, @sophia-gwendolyn, @nxstalgicnxbxdy, @sunsetsofanemoia, @s4dthrills, @tommy-holland, @lordfxxker, @streetfighterrichie, @awaken-the-sirens, @destiels-assbutt13 If you want to be added to the tag list, let me know! :)

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy x oc #draco malfoy #draco #malfoy #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagines #draco malfoy x gryffindor #slytherin #gryffindor #fanfiction

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gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Brothers II

This one is for @chenria and a followup to Brothers which I wrote for @flyboytracy Sorry this took so long...it was a little more of a challenge than the last one :D

As usual, thank you to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 and @janetm74 for their amazing support ::hugs you all::

I hope you enjoy it :D

-o-o-o-

“So, you’re brothers?”

Scott stared at the woman. She had obviously had enough something to be happy and a little loud, but it was the piercings enough to attract lightning that were particularly striking. If he wasn’t so tired, he might consider her a challenge. “Yes, ma’am. We are brothers.”

“You don’t look like brothers.”

Beside him, Virgil shifted his feet. Give him any excuse and his younger brother would be dragging him out of the building. It was late and to be honest the only reason they were still here was because of Penelope.

Usually, this kind of party would be right up Virgil’s alley. It was being hosted in an art gallery featuring several master works of some artist Virgil had babbled about for most of the week, but it had been a long day and Virgil was beat and both of them really just wanted to go home.

As it was, his brother was frowning at the painting behind the woman fit to bust a blood vessel in his forehead.

Speaking of the woman… “Regardless of how we look, we are indeed brothers.”

The three piercings through her bottom lip stuck out as she pushed her chin up at him.

“Prove it.”

Scott arched an eyebrow. “I’m afraid you’ll have to take our word for it.”

“Your word? What about his word? All muscley and scrumptious here hasn’t even said hello.” Her eyes literally crawled all over Virgil and Scott was hard put not to roll his eyes.

One of those.

This time with extra surgical steel.

He shot a glance at his brother and as expected, Virgil was completely oblivious.

Lightning rod took a step towards Virgil. Scott nudged his brother in warning.

“Huh?” A dopey blink followed by a frown at the woman. “Oh, I am so sorry. I was distracted by the Dali behind you. The elephants have always fascinated me.” His eyes darted back to the painting only to be drawn forcibly away again by courtesy. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name, ma’am.”

“Ooooh, ‘ma’am’. Really, Muscles, you are something else.” Was that a diamond in her eyebrow? “The name’s Exe.” She pronounced it ‘X-E’ like a computer’s execution file.

Definitely one of those.

“Nice to meet you, Exe.” But Virgil’s attention was still drawn back to the painting and he was frowning again.

“So, you like a little Dali, do you? Surrealism your thing?”

Virgil didn’t answer immediately, again distracted by the painting, and Scott had the urge to nudge him. It was very unlike him to ignore someone like this.

Not that she seemed to care. In fact, she edged closer as if his distraction was just an extra lure.

How did Virgil do that?

His brother didn’t even have to do anything and women were fawning all over him.

And he didn’t even notice!

“You know, I think this painting is a fake.” Virgil’s frown deepened as he stepped around the woman as if she was just an obstacle.

The obstacle turned and followed Virgil coming to stand beside him, her hand on his arm.

Scott felt the urge to slap that hand away.

Virgil continued to be oblivious.

Scott fought the urge to slap him up the head.

But fake art? Scott stepped up beside the woman hanging of his brother’s arm and feigned interest. Okay, so it wasn’t totally feigned because mystery, but the amount of interest he had in the painting was being countered by that woman’s other hand that was now on Virgil’s chest.

This prompted his brother to frown at Exe, but all polite manners and all, Virgil only took a tiny step away before blurting out the detail he had spotted on the canvas that proved this was definitely not a Dali Llama or whatever it was.

Something about an elephant?

God, the woman was literally swooning at every word Virgil said. If she got any closer she was going to get one of those piercings on her face caught in the fabric of Virgil’s suit.

Typical.

His brother was too damned polite for his own good. Scott stepped forward a little to bring himself into her eyeline. “So, Exe, do you have a favourite painting here tonight?” He threw some energy into his smile.

And was completely ignored.

Exe appeared to be staring at Virgil’s ear.

Virgil was back to frowning at the painting.

Scott sighed. Perhaps some reinforcements were required. He scanned the crowd looking for one particular splash of pink.

Bingo.

A gesture with his eyes and Penelope was zeroing in on them fast.

“Oh, Lady Exeter, I see you’ve found our Dali.” Lady P, all refined and poise swooped in between Scott and the Lightning Rod.

Virgil took one look at her and began spouting forgery claims. “Lady Penelope, this can’t be a Dali, just look at the colour on that elephant. That pigment was not available during Dali’s time.”

Penelope turned to stare up at the painting. “Oh my, that is disconcerting.”

Not as disconcerting as Exe resting her head on a still oblivious Virgil’s shoulder. He was that focussed on the painting, the rest of the world apparently did not exist.

Maybe Scott needed to find some good coffee. That had dragged Virgil out of his studio at the worst of times.

“I will see to that immediately, Virgil. Inquiries will be made and the culprit found.”

“Virgil? Oooooh, what a virile name.”

Virgil startled and it was as if he suddenly realised exactly how close and how clingy this woman he hardly knew actually was. His eyes widened and screamed help to Scott.

Exe just smiled up at him and snuggled in more.

“Oh, Lady Exeter, I do believe your father has arrived.” Penelope held a straight face, but it was a knowing one.

“Dad’s here?”

“I do believe so. I can have the car sent around to the rear exit if you like.”

“Yeah, better do that.” A grimace. “He doesn’t know about the extra nose piercings yet.” But then she looked up at Virgil. “Hey, Muscles, wanna come have some fun? I have a real Rubens in my apartment. It might need a…close examination.”

Her intended examination obviously had nothing to do with any painting other than perhaps body paint.”

Scott took a step toward her just as Penelope caught Exe’s arm gently and nudged her away from Virgil. “Come dear, Lord Exeter is coming this way.”

As the two women moved, Scott closed the gap between himself and his brother. It gave him a great view of the longing look sent in his brother’s direction as Penelope dragged Lady Exeter away.

Virgil swallowed hard.

Scott just didn’t get it. “How do you do that?”

His brother blinked up at him. “Do what?”

“No effort flirting.”

“What flirting? I wasn’t flirting.”

Scott sent him a flat stare and then parroted Virgil’s voice. “Oh, this painting is a forgery.”

“It is!” And that prompted a whole bunch of babbly art words to fall out of his brother’s mouth.

Okay, so Scott got the gist of most of it, but honestly, the sight of Virgil being so passionate about something did the same thing it always did.

It made Scott smile.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Scott Tracy #Virgil Tracy #earth and sky

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dialovers-translations · 4 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Do-S Kyuuketsu VERSUS II Vol.1 Ayato VS Laito [Track 3]

Original title: ざわめく心

Source: Diabolik Lovers VERSUS II Vol. 1 Ayato VS Laito [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here

Seiyuu: Midorikawa Hikaru & Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: I am really digging the underlying themes of this drama CD so far! Whether it’s the tension between Ayato and Laito related to their past, or the many implications of the MC’s awakening and what it does to her body, etc. This is all stuff I wish the games would touch upon a little more, especially the latter! The scene where Ayato prompts to bite him in particular, I found very fascinating! In HDB, they refer to Yui’s awakening quite often, but only in a few chapters/routes, they specificy that she also has to drink blood now, while in the rest it is kept rather vague. :S

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5 ll Track 6

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 3: Restless Heart

*Rustle rustle*

*Thud*

Ayato: ...I doubt he’ll be able to track us down any time soon soon. ...Honestly, you should get a lil’ better readin’ the room!

You tilt your head to the side.

Ayato: It was my perfect opportunity to give that mysterious freak a good punch in the face. Come on, this way. We’re gonna hide underneath the table.

*Rustle*

Ayato: There’s honestly no reason to hide, but you kept on complainin’...Geez, why are women always such softies?

You smile, noting on his unusual kindness.

Ayato: Haah...? I-I’m not being nice or anythin’! I’m my usual self! Anyway, come here!

Ayato pulls you underneath the table with him.

*Rustle*

Ayato: I’m sure while we’re hidin’ down here, it’ll give that guy some time to cool off his head. ...More importantly, why didn’t you just take my hand right away earlier?

*Rustle*

Ayato: Answer me...Oi.

You hesitate.

Ayato: You weren’t thinkin’ ‘bout grabbin’ his hand, were you?

You keep quiet.

Ayato: The silent treatment, huh? Che...You should know that won’t get me to forgive you better than anyone. You really never learn, do you?

He pins you down.

*Thud*

Ayato: If you won’t give me a proper reply, I’ll keep on repeating the question to your body, until you finally decide to be honest with me.

*RIIIIIIP*

Ayato: You actually...Hahaha...Gave me the cold shoulder because you were hopin’ I’d do somethin’ like this, no? Heh. Even if you deny it, I’m pretty sure an idiot like yourself is still capable of realizin’ things would turn out this way.

You turn your head to the side.

*Rustle*

Ayato: Just admit it...That you want to feel good through my fangs...All you have to do is upset me after all. Isn’t that true? You see, I don’t dislike that erotic side of you...However, Chichinashi, you keep on refusin’ to accept that part of you. But you know, ‘cause you constantly deny it, I can’t help but want to ask you over and over...

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: Like this...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Come on, show me your neck. I’ll suck you. ...Hurry up.

*Rustle*

Ayato bites you.

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Haahn...Mmh...Haah...Your blood really is delicious. Haahn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Mmh...Nn...Haah...But...It feels a lil’ different from usual. Is this ‘cause of the lunar eclipse as well?

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Mm...Nnh...Hah...Nn...If you’re bein’ affected by it, then...Hahaha..I guess you’ve started awakenin’ after all?

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Hahn...Mm...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Haah? Are you scared? I asked the same question before, but why are you so afraid of it? Come on, this side of your nape is up next.

He continues sucking your blood.

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Nn...Hah...Well, I don’t particularly care ‘bout a Vampire woman’s blood either, but as long as the blood belongs to yoーー ...Woah there. I nearly ran my mouth. ...I guess it’s ‘cause of that damn moon? Geez. Bein’ a Vampire can be surprisingly annoyin’ at times as well.

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Hahn...Mm...How’s that? You’ve gotten heated, haven’t you?

You try and hide your flushed cheeks.

Ayato: Idiot. Don’t hide it. I can tell regardless. All it takes is a little touch...To tell whether you’re feeling good or not. ...I’m feeling great. Your blood has started circulating through my body. I feel as if I’m about to go high. Come on, let’s enjoy things a lil’ differently today. (1) ...Come here.”

*Rustle*

Ayato: Closer, much closer to me...

You scoot over.

Ayato: Exactly. ...Here we go.

*RIIIIIIIP*

Ayato: You should try bitin’ me.

You seem surprised.

Ayato: Why, you ask? To check whether you’ve actually awakened or not, duh.

You seem skeptical.

Ayato: ‘I can’t’, my ass. Do it.

You shake your head.

Ayato: Haah...Switchin’ it up between bein’ bitten or bitin’ can be nice every once in a while, you know? Besides, you might surprisingly enjoy it as well.

You are afraid to hurt him.

Ayato: It’s just a lil’ game. Come on.

You give him a gentle bite.

Ayato: ...! Idiot! When you just lightly nibble like that, it only tickles! Do it stronger. Like how I’d bite you.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: ...!! ...Hahaha! Mine aren’t that weak!

You bite him stronger.

Ayato: ...Ugh! Yeah, that was better. Hahaha. The moon is totally to blame for this. My senses are in complete disarray. Who would have thought Yours Truly would ever enjoy the kind of fucked up shit (2) Laito’s into. Haah...

*Rustle*

Ayato: However, only right now, it’s kinda fascinatin’ to me. Haha...Chichinashi. How did I taste? Your moist lips...they look great. Mmh...

Ayato kisses you.

*Smooch*

Ayato: How’s that? Did you remember that you belong to me now? Come on, say it.

You hesitate.

Ayato: Well? Did you remember or not? All you need to do is nod your head, you know?

He holds you close.

Ayato: You are mine. You don’t belong to that shitty bastard Laito. Right?

You start crying.

Ayato: ...!? Oi! Why are you cryin’!? I don’t understand!?

You sob.

Ayato: Ah...Fuck! Don’t cry, I said! Do you want me to suck your blood more or somethin’?

You shrug, shaking your head.

Ayato: Haah...? You don’t know...?

He pins you down underneath him one more time.

Ayato: In that case, I’ll take it as a sign that you want me even more. So I’ll give you exactly what you want. As you wish...

*Rustle*

Ayato: Right here, on your shoulder...You quite like it here, don’t you?

Ayato bites you once more.

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Hahn...Mmh...Nn...You really have no idea how you keep on pushin’ us ‘round, do you?

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: Mm..Nn...Hah...Timin’ those tears of you perfectly...Mm...Nn...

*Sluuuuurp*

Ayato: ...Your tears have dried? Right?

*Smooch*

Ayato: What’s with that expression? Why do you seem so surprised?

You suddenly get up from underneath the table.

*Rustle rustle*

Ayato: ...Woah!?

You run towards the door.

Ayato: ーー Oi, Chichinashi! Where are you goin’!? What if Laito finds you, aah!?

You leave regardless.

*TIMESKIP*

Laito enters the room.

Laito: ...Oh dear. Playin’ hide-and-seek over there, huh? You’re rather mean, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: Laito...!?

Laito: Not only did you neglect our match, but you even made Bitch-chan cry, it seems? Fufufu...~ You’re such a cruel man, Ayato-kun.

Ayato: You’re the last person I want to hear that from...!! In that case, I don’t mind pickin’ up where we left off right here, right now?

Laito: Nfu~ I like that idea! Honestly couldn’t wish for more. ...However, since our prey just so happens to be on the run right now, why don’t we do it like this...?

Ayato: ...Hah?

Laito: A hide-and-seek showdown. To see who can capture this poor lamb on the loose first, that is~

Ayato: So whoever catches her first, wins?

Laito: Exactly! It might not bring that same sense of satisfaction as throwing fists does, but it’s still plenty fun, no? With our senses somewhat disrupted, I think it’ll be even more exciting since we can’t just easily seek her out through scent alone.

Ayato: Hah! Bring it on! I can already picture where she would have run off to.

Laito: I wonder? Do you truly understand how a woman’s mind works?

Ayato: ...Ah!?

Laito: Nfu~ Well, let’s give it our best shot. To find what is ‘ours’...~

Ayato: ...Keh!

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) He uses the verb いく or ‘iku’, which usually means ‘to go’, but can have some sexual implications such as ‘reach a climax’ as well.

(2) Ayato refers to letting the MC bite him as an ‘act of perversion’.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers VERSUS II #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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leah-halliwell92 · 4 years

Text

Mr. Telford History Teacher

Summary: You needed one last elective class to fill the second to last category for your minor. Little did you know the one teaching it would have more effect on you than the corse itself.

Part I – Part II

Trigger Warning: Mentions of rape!!

Tara and Lyla took you to their dorm. Tara taking your keys and going to yours to take whatever you’d need for an extended stay while telling you that she and Lyla would take turns when it came to staying with you rules be damned.

You’d noticed Jax tell Tara something as Lyla got you settled in but was more focused on keeping it together and listening to all that Lyla was telling you. From where the bathroom is to helping yourself to any and everything in the fridge. You opted to crash on Lyla’s bed as she promised to come back with food after her afternoon classes were done. She swore up and down you’d be safe here, so closed the door behind her as she left.

//00//00//

Author’s POV

“Oppie’s last class is with Darby Jr. so won’t be too hard to pull him a way from everything,” Jax told Tara as Lyla approached.

“Make sure there’s no cameras around this time Jax,” Lyla said knowingly a serious look on her face.

Tara didn’t like it but knew there wasn’t much she could do to spot it you were just as close as family if not more.

Jax knew she didn’t like it but knew that if he didn’t set the asshole straight you weren’t going to be the only one. This stops now.

Jax nodded to Lyla agreeing and kissed Tara’s forehead before leaving with Lyla. Both went their separate ways with Jax going to Chibs’ office to give him an update. May God have mercy on the poor douche the got in the way of that angry Scott.

~Time Skip~

Oppie kept an eye on Johnny as he took the notes he needed to take making sure to keep himself in check while class was I session. Guy needed his ass handed to him its true, but that doesn’t mean Oppe is gonna put his college career in jeopardy to prove a point...yet.

As soon as class was dismissed, Oppie made quick work of tailing Johnny. He kept an eye out for Jax as well as any cronies Johnny might have and sighed in silent relief as Jax and Juice came into view.

Jax made the first move.

“Hey buddy how are ya? Haven’t seen you in a while,” Jax said jovially as he threw his arm over Darby.

Johnny was about to move away when Juice did the same thing from the other side. They frog marched him to an empty classroom and pinned him to the farthest wall where Jax nodded to Oppie who nailed him in the stomach.

“Didn’t your mama teach you to respect women?” Jax asked holding onto Johnny as he bent forward coughing up a storm at the hit, “Cuz last I heard sexual harassment of a woman is still illegal.”

“Meaning you could go to jail,” Juice added seriously.

“We may be called a gang,” Oppie said his frame towering over the whimpering Darby Jr, “But at least we aren’t racist bigots that treat women like dirt if they don’t measure up.”

Johnny went to say something but was cut off as Oppie delivered a swift and powerful kick to to Johnny’s...Johnny.

“You know for such a macho man,” Jax teased, “Its really sad you need to rape women to feel all powerful.”

Johnny was still out for the count after Oppie kicked him in the balls.

“Don’t you dare go after a woman again Darby,” Jax said with such a calm demeanor that had the other two boys worried, “Cuz next time we won’t be so lenient.”

“Watcha gonna do? Kill me?” Johnny asked.

Jax grinned at him and said, “Na, I won’t need to.”

“That’s not our job dude,” Juice said with a nasty grin, “There is a guy that will be on the market for kicking some Aryan ass. So I might watch it for a while.”

//00//00//

On another side of campus, four men were having a similar discussion.

“You and yours have been getting away with harassing women since you got your ten year,” Chibs said seriously his body practically vibrating with contained fury, “It ain’ enough tha’ they feel like they’re being swept under the fuckin rug and led to depression and worse but now we have proof that you are part of that ring.”

“You assholes don’t have anything,” Darby said through gritted teeth. “You sure ‘bout tha’?” Chibs asked with a menacing smirk.

He pulled out a thumb drive from his pocked and plugged it into a nearby computer showing Darby all the dirt that had been gathered on him pertaining to the rape, harassment and even disappearances of some of the female alumni of the school.

Darby paled as he saw the material.

Tig grinned like a maniac and said, “Boys I’m sure we’re all just fascinated with what we’ve seen but I’m curious to check somethin’.”

“What’s that?” Happy asked a dangerous smirk on his face.

Tig’s grin grew and he said, “Let's see if his balls are made from steel or glass.”

Tag List:

@ideclareflananigans @come-join-themurder @miss-nori85 @xbreezymeadowsx @tommyflanagans @theidiootti1 @flanagirl @jtelford @lovelypoltergeist @chibsisadream @kid-from-new-zealand @fictionalhoomanofnowhere

#chibs x reader #filip telford #teacher chibs #chibs imagine #soa imagine #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy chibs #Tommy Flanagan

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puppy-phum · 3 years

Text

get to know me

am going to mix these two different tag games into one post so thank you a lot for tagging me @jazthespazz and @i-am-just-a-kiddo ♥

it’s somehow funny to do these same games again after a while so let’s see what I come up with:

Part I

name: real name petra but i prefer vish/vishie over here ^^

pronouns: she/her

star sign: aries ♈

height: 178cm (which am coming more and more proud of while i realize how damn tall every cdrama actor is lol)

time: 10:37pm as am answering this one

birthday: 10th april!

nationality: finnish

fave bands/groups: ah well this is always a hard question but let’s go with these: BTS, DAY6, OneRepublic, Hurts, Oneus, Hoppipolla, TXT, Red, Mamamoo

fave solo artists: (forgive me if i’ve assumed any of these wrong) Novo Amor, Talos, Crywolf, Liu Yuning, SYML, EDEN, PVRIS, Joker Xue, NF, Halsey, Sleeping At Last, Nuz, HyunA, Sam Smith, Taemin

song stuck in your head: it’s OneRepublic’s Rescue Me bc of the song tag game i did earlier today :’D that one always gets stuck in my head whenever i as much as see the title lol

last movie you watched: i think it’s The Yin-Yang Master (2021)? I haven’t watched any movies after that bc am so busy with all of my dramas haha

last show you binged: i think binged would be The Journey Across the Night! I watched that as a whole in 4 days

when you created your blog: in 2013

the last thing you googled: ummm i think it was “what is a ball of wool called” bc of fic purposes haha as a non native speaker i always get a bit lost with words like this

other blogs: none, i just dump everything here like the idiot i am

why i chose my url: dates back to my intense summer of binge reading J.R. Ward’s Black Dagger Brotherhood series. Vishous was my favorite of the brothers haha. i first used this username in some random game on my nintendo ds lol

how many people are you following: 358 which somehow feels like a lot but also like way too few?? i should probably search for some new blogs with other topics than cql, bts and/or dmbj bc i do love a lot of things at once

how many followers do you have: over 800

average hours of sleep: i’d say around 7h

lucky numbers: i remember answering 5 previously? i don’t really have a lucky number but 5 pops into my head

instruments: nope, no. not touching those tyvm. i admire everyone who can play any instrument tho

what i’m currently wearing: black jeans, socks with foxes on them (plus my woolly socks), a gray cardigan (my fave thing ever!) and an orange/brown top

dream job: writer would be ideal but that is very faaaaar into the dream zone

dream trip: around different parts of asia to taste all the amazing food ;; maybe a road trip of sorts through europe? or inter railing? another trip to london bc i miss that ;; a trip to the very northern part of lapland to see all the auroras etc! i’ve never been that far north :’D

fave food: if i need to quickly name something then sushi. otherwise am pretty fine with anything spicy

top three fictional universes you’d like to live in: i remember thinking about this a lot the last time i answered this but hmm. currently i’d say dmbj still bc that world is fascinating AND i would love to talk to the characters. mass effect would be the second one currently bc i miss those games and the space stuff is super cool! and the third one would be assassin’s creed rogue bc that is my fave ac game and i like the northern sea and the places in it AND i could probably be one of abstergo’s employees instead and just test/play those simulation games haha

Part II

Last Song: am currently listening to my playlist with just everything so i have Andrew Belle’s The Enemy playing right now (also I only just now realized that Andrew Belle also sings Pieces which is one of my fave songs? my bff linked that to me after it played in some tv series she was watching)

Last Movie Last Stream: i didn’t want to mention the same movie again or skip this question and i’ve wanted to talk about this anyway so! i watched Liu Chang’s bday live last night :’D it was so much fun even if i couldn’t understand anything. it was just nice to watch him being himself and have fun and chill with his fans. also the songs were amazing ;; i cried with Liu Sang’s character song as well as the ending. and all the while i couldn’t turn my gaze away from his eyes! he has such pretty eyes and they were absolutely Sparkling throughout the whole stream, it was so nice :’)

Currently Reading: Devotions by Mary Oliver (i adore her poems! they’re a very nice change after Siken haha) and then some uni stuff for a course about culture and mental health plus my thesis

Currently Watching: Douluo Continent, Word of Honor, The Long Ballad

all of these are amazing and make me feel different things! i started Douluo Continent just a while ago and am now on ep 16 i think? it’s been very pretty and very chill and i watch it during the weekend while i wait for new episodes to the other two :’D it’s nice to see Xiao Zhan again and i’ve enjoyed the rpg game type of feeling in it? the group of seven is doing amazing and it’s interesting to watch them craft their team work! Word of Honor again has reached the ending and i just hold my breath with it. am not too far gone with it so i am not getting as heavy feelings about it as i probably could but i enjoy it alot still and i do cry at times ^^ and then The Long Ballad has just blown me away! i didn’t expect to love it this much and be this invested in it but everything about it has been such a positive surprise and it keeps making me super emotional! i love the characters and the story and the romances even! it’s a great accomplishment for me. also yes i cry on the daily bc of hao du and bc of ashile sun’s hair haha

(i am also rewatching Ultimate Note kind of and been thinking about getting into rewatching Reboot bc it has been on my list ever since i finished it)

What is antipoetry to you: okay hmm i had to google this too and have to agree with Kiddo here. i don’t have strong feelings about poetry tbh, i wasn’t into poetry that much before maybe a bit over year ago? Siken has really blown me away haha. but i have always loved song lyrics which i never thought as poetry but then Kiddo said to me that they consider them poetry and yeah ok. i agree? so idk poetry can be whatever i suppose. i’ve never seen any rules in it anyway. i know there are many rules for different types of poetry but then again. i feel like poetry has always been just words put together to feel things and i guess that is the core purpose of every written type of art in the end right?

Currently craving: a drama as good and as personal as The Journey Across the Night. that show really just stole my heart and i want that feeling back. i think about that show every day. i miss Li Jia and his two partners. i miss the vibes. i miss sitting on my floor watching it and just sobbing my heart out haha. also! craving a properly subbed, whole version of Anti-Fraud League. only the first 12 eps are badly subbed out there. wetv has... blocked? deleted? the whole show??? i need it to my life, i wanna see Xiao Yuliang being cute as Mi Ruo and i wanna know where the story goes smh

thank you so much for these both! i had fun ^^ also am sorry this is so long but haha if you’re asking me to talk about myself and my interests then this is what you get :)

tagging (to do which ever part you want or both!): @cross-d-a @jockvillagersonly @humanlighthouse @kholran @xcziel @minmoyu and @leonzhng ♥

#tag game #this was so much fun ok #also yes am an emotional mess #especially when it comes to liu chang/liu sang #and if anyone has any knowledge #about anti-fraud league #then am all ears???#thank you for tagging me!!

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redladydeath · 3 years

Text

jhgfdfghjkhgf i was going to just post this in the video’s comment section but for some reason that’s not working so here’re act one of the william and mary play:

Mary: Look, you’re my best friend, okay? And, um, best friends tell each other everything, right? Oh my god. Excuse me. Oh, Maria Regina, it was awful! He was awful, William, my Dutch cousin, or as father likes to call him “the Dutch Dog” *laughs*… I had the honor of being forced to dine with the extended family. My little Dutch cousin William– and was he rude! Oh my god. He spent the entire meal either staring at me or grimacing at the food. No manners. And he’s old too, like, at least thirty, not that you’d know by looking at him, he’s very short, but old enough to know better, and all that I could hear the entire time was his breathing– no, no, no– wheezing, with his tiny little child-sized mouth. *imitates wheezing* [indecipherable] –cause he had [indecipherable] big monster of a nose to use, but I guess that was out of commission. And King Charles II– God save him– and all twelve of his spaniels, seated at the table, eating off of the plates– how am I related to these people?

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shh! Shh! My sister! We’re fighting! Oh god. Uncle Charles– God save him– William... ew. I’ve never fit in with this entire family and now I find out that my sister’s been ta… my sister– No, no I will not stand here and idly gossip. My sister– no. Sh– no. Sh– no. Sh– nope! Betty!

Betty: Yes, your ladyship?

Mary: Um, take Maria Regina will you?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship. Anne has been screaming for you, your ladyship.

Mary: Yes, tell her I’m dead.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: No, don’t, that’ll get her hopes up. Tell her that I’m resting– exhausted from a fascinating dinner with our exotic Dutch cousin.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: And I can trust you all? Oh, um, and would you bring me an ink, pen, and paper?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: How’s this? Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear... girlfriend– no, no, no... lover– no, too saucy– um... husband? Yeah… it’s a woman, but we’re gonna call her a husband. Don’t get confused! Um, dearest husband, after my prayers to all-mighty God, I’ve come to make peace with you, for it is a strange thing for a man and a wife to quarrel. What more can I say to prove that I love with more zeal than any lover can? You are loved with a love never known by man–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: You are loved more than can be expressed–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: By your ever-obedient–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: SHUT UP!! –wife. But to my great sorrow, I find out that you’ve been corresponding with *whispered* my sister!

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your humble servant! To kiss the ground where you go–

Anne: What are you doing?!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your dog on a string, your fish in a net, your limber trout–

Anne: She writes me too, you know!

Mary: No, she doesn’t!

Anne: Yes, she does!

Mary: Shut up! [indecipherable] If my letter has made the effect, dear “husband”, on your hard ear, I may without scruple call you my dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband.

Anne: She is not your husband and your letter to her are weird. Also, she sends me letters and calls me her husband and loves me more than she loves you and you’re a lesbian!

Mary: That word doesn’t even exist yet, Anne!

Anne: Lesbian!

Mary: Keep your voice down!

Anne: She writes me more letters.

Mary: Our love is forbidden.

Anne: Get over yourself!

Mary: She knows unlike you I’ll be queen!

Anne: Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t even want to be queen.

Mary: Oh, good, cause you never will be.

Anne: Of course I will! When your head gets so damned big from all the bullshit praise, even your ugly, masculine, lesbian neck won’t be able to support its weight. Snap! And your head will fall off, like our poor headless grandpa Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Mary: To imagine the death of a monarch is treason, I could look you in the Tower.

Anne: You couldn’t!

Mary: When I’m queen.

Anne: You wouldn’t!

Mary: I could!

Anne: Nu-uh!

Mary: Uh-huh!

Anne: You wouldn’t be the first queen to do that to a little sister.

Mary: Well, you came in here and started it.

Anne: I know. I have something to tell you.

Mary: You could’ve waited!

Anne: I have a memory. About mummy.

Mary: Did you? Really? Would you tell me?

Anne: When we knew she wouldn’t make it much longer, she asked me to come to her bedside. She had just got her blood let, so she was speaking very openly.

Mary: It’s okay, Anne!

Anne: She asked me “Do you know why I named your older sister Mary but named you after me?”

Mary: Why?

Anne: Mummy said… “Because prefer you to that bitch older sister!”

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Mom liked me more!

Mary: I was named after a queen!

Anne: Yeah, Bloody Mary! “Oh, look at me! I’m named after a fat, bloated Tudor Catholic!”

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I just came in here to ask how dinner went.

Mary: It was lovely. Leave!

Anne: Was it? I bet it was boring.

Mary: Only for a child but when you’re fifteen years old you appreciate stimulating conversation!

Anne: [indecipherable]

Mary: Good!

Anne: Was he… stimulating?

Mary: Ew! I mean… yes.

Anne: What was he like?

Mary: Tall, dark, handsome.

Anne: Really? Tall, dark, and handsome?

Mary: Mmyeah.

Anne: I’m jealous.

Mary: You should be.

Anne: Did he stare at you?

Mary: What? No.

Anne: I guess he wouldn’t. Not after what I have heard.

Mary: Oh, I don’t even want to hear your idle gossip– what did you hear?

Anne: Oh, it’s just that father told me that Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –Tried to marry you off to him.

Mary: What?

Anne: For some Dutch alliance.

Mary: What?

Anne: Yeah. He turned you down though.

Mary: He turned me down?

Anne: Three times.

Mary: What?

Anne: And here I was going to come in and make fun of you! I thought William was a tiny little goblin man. That would’ve been so embarrassing!

Mary: Right…

Anne: If you were turned down by an ugly little goblin man.

Mary: Right…

Anne: Three times!

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Why?

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I thought he was stimulating!

Mary: I want to be alone!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re so weird! Maybe you’ll actually fit in if you didn’t lock yourself in your room all the time writing creepy letters. Some queen you’ll be! You’re friends with a fish!

Mary: Well, I will be queen whether I want to or not!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re engaged to Louis the fucking XIV, what right do you have to be mad at me?

Mary: ...Have you seen the latest portrait of Louis?

Anne: Yeah!

Mary and Anne: *squee*

Anne: He’s fucking gorgeous! Even for a Catholic!

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Anne: Milky skin, so fucking rich! Full deep eyes, tight little French ass…

Mary: Anne! God is listening!

Anne: [indecipherable] I’m just appreciating the work! Those portraits are rarely accurate though. You saw the portrait of Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –He looked like a Roman god dipped in oil.

Mary: What?

Anne: He glistened Mary! Like a buttered up Roman statue! In reality, he looks more like butter. Well… butter with syphilis.

Mary: Oh my god, you can be quite cruel Anne.

Anne: I’m destined to marry one of our fat, inbred cousins, so I’m allowed to be.

Mary: Sorry.

Anne: Yeah, it’s whatever. Well, I’m going! Unlike you I actually have friends to hang out with.

Mary: Oh, bad company ruins good morals.

Anne: Fuck you! See you at dinner.

Mary: That’s why that little Dutch dwarf was staring at me. Oh my God, could you imagine that tiny, wheezing little man crawling into your bed every night– oh my god, it’s an offensive thought! But the most offensive part? He said no! He said no to me! Oh my God, the man is a slug! William of Orange– blegh! And Uncle Charles– God save him– tried to make me marry that, not that I would’ve! No! I would’ve told him off, right to his face. I’m not afraid of him! I will not be made a sacrificial lamb. I would’ve told him off to his face! Right to his tiny, regal, little mustache: “No, Uncle! You may be king, but I will not marry that creature! Put me in chains; lock me in the Tower; feed me to the ghost of Cromwell; I absolutely refuse to marry that creature!” I would’ve told him off. I will not be made a sacrificial lamb!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Betty: Your uncle, King Charles II– God save him– is here your ladyship.

Mary: Okay, send him in.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

*dogs yapping*

Charles: Quiet, quiet, quiet! [indecipherable] Good doggy-woggys! Now, niece!

Mary: Oh, Uncle, God save you–

Charles: Rise dear! You’re one of the few girls at court I’d rather not see on her knees.

Mary: Oh– ew.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: I’ve just come from your mother and father’s apartments.

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Charles: Charming lady, your new mummy. She’s got those bovine hips, so I assume she’ll be plopping out heirs as soon as James’ dousing rod directs her away from foreign [indecipherable].

Mary: Oh my God.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: If God is good– and we know he is– she’ll give birth to a few boys before she’s spent. Women are quite fragile, as you know Mary. It’s especially hard with our good Stuart stock and– Oh, Dicky, no, no hump, no hump, daddy has a [indecipherable]. Might we can hope for a few younger brothers– you’d like that, wouldn’t you Mary?

Mary: Oh, yes, dear uncle. How I love being an older sister to our dear, simple Anne and how I’d revel in the opportunity to be an older sister again.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: [indecipherable] England [indecipherable] worry that another woman would take the throne.

Mary: Yes, poor England.

Charles: Yes.

Mary: Ah, ah, ah, ah!

Charles: Dicky! If that heifer can squeeze out just one little boy, England is saved! Oh, Mary, you see it’s not that women shouldn’t be involved in politics, it’s that they can’t. Their brains aren’t built for it! I don’t even know if you can comprehend what I’m saying to you right now!

Mary: I’m lost.

Charles: Yes, I assumed so. Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: *chocking, spits* [indecipherable] Go on, up! [indecipherable] Now, where were we? Yes– women are not fit to rule.

Mary: Sorry, once more.

Charles: I am king.

Mary: You are king.

Charles: I am a great king.

Mary: You are a great king.

Charles: Women… cannot be kings.

Mary: No, they’re queens.

Charles: …Very good Mary! I’m very proud. That’s a real thought you just had!

Mary: I’m lost again.

Charles: So, if I am king and women…?

Mary: Can’t be kings.

Charles: Then women…?

Mary: Can’t be great kings?

Charles: Exactly! I am very impressed with your understanding of Restoration politics. As king, I’ve found it requires tremendous subtlety. OW! Dicky, get off! Dicky, don’t let–! God, you bastard! Bite that hand that feeds you, ey? Groom of the Stool!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty?

Charles: Lock him in the Tower!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty.

Charles: You made a big mistake, Dicky! No [indecipherable] bites a sovereign.

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty!

Charles: Now, let us break our conversation into greater areas regarding your sex.

Mary: Ah, like needle crappy gossip.

Charles: And… boys.

Mary: Ah, yes, boys.

Charles: And… marriage.

Mary: Ah, yes, my purpose in life.

Charles: You a beautiful Stuart girl– Protestant– a large Protestant wedding to a regal, Protestant husband.

Mary: No, ha, Louis’ Catholic.

Charles: Louis? Yes, he’s Catholic.

Mary: Right, but you just said–

Charles: You, a beautiful Stuart girl–

Mary: Oh no!

Charles: A large Protestant wedding–

Mary: Oh, god!

Charles: To a regal–

Mary: No!

Charles: Protestant...

Mary: Please!

Charles: Did you enjoy dinner last night? You [indecipherable] to impressed your cousin.

Mary: No.

Charles: William! Were you taken by him, Mary?

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: He was very taken by you.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: Your first cousin, so you’ll have a lot in common!

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: My dead sister’s boy! She was a real bitch.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: And you’ll have the line of succession, so you won’t have to worry about being queen, Mary. William can handle it. Sorry he’s such a cold, ugly bastard.

Mary: *spluttering*

Charles: Your Catholic father *spits* is pissed. Not surprising, but I ordered him to shut the fuck up about it. The wedding is next week. La~!

Mary: Wait! Anne!

Charles: Oh, you’re too thoughtful, dear girl! Anne will be fine on her own.

Mary: No, no, no, marry Anne off to William!

Charles: Certainly not! You’re next in line after your idiot father. We’ll marry Anne off to one of the fat, inbred cousins.

Mary: But I learned French!

Charles: And now you’ll get to learn Dutch! It’s not a beautiful language, but it matches the people. The king exits!

Mary: *sobbing*

*church music / exert of “Aria” by Marco Rosano*

Priest: Gathered! His Royal Highness Charles II!

Ensemble: GOD SAVE HIM!

Priest: The bride’s father James (the eventual second)– what? Your father refused to attend!

Mary: *sobbing*

Priest: We are gathered today in the eyes of our Protestant God to witness the eternal joining of two people, and more importantly, two nations. Our beloved England and our at-least-for-the-time-being-not-enemy Holland.

*fanfare*

Priest: The Dutch Stand Stadtholder! ...William? ...The Prince of Orange!

William: *violent coughing*

Priest: William? You good?

William: Ja.

Priest: Do you need a minute?

William: [indecipherable]

Priest: Okay! So… the, uh… the Dutch Stadtholder! The Prince of Orang– William?

William: *violent coughing* [indecipherable]

Priest: We are gathered– we are– we’re gathered– we are gathered– gathered– and we are gathered–

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Pardon?

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Sorry, I–

William: [Dutch word], stepping [Dutch word].

Priest: Oh, yes. *groaning* NOW! We are gathered for the joining of two people, two nations, and one [indecipherable] faith. Do you, Mary, take a solemn vow to obey and honor William until you’re parted by death? Okay, good. Do you, William, take a solemn vow to take Mary as your bride and treat her with whatever respect you happen to feel like showing her? Alright, whoo! You’re all good in here. You may kiss the bride.

William: *violent coughing*

*retro dance music* / exert of “Oh! Oh! I'm Goin' Home” by The Peppers

Mary: Wow. Midnight. Where did the time go?

William: Time for bed.

Mary: Right. Yup. Time for bed. It’s late and… it’s late and… it’s late and… it’s time for bed and there’s the bed, it’s time for bed and… we’re married now.

Charles: Now, nephew! To your purpose! God save Saint George and England! *giggling*

Mary: Right, historically, um, all of that actually happened. Well– oh, sorry, I was talking to someone else. Well, I guess it’s late, right? It’s late and it’s, um, time to go do– time to do– time to go do do do do do do do do doing of it. Ah! Wow. A ring… Is it for me? …Should I take it? …I’ll take it. Wow… a ruby… yes, ruby– rubies are very– rubies are red! Red. Rubies are… pink actually, now that I look at it. Funny, they’re really much more pink. Everyone always says “ruby red” but they’re much more pink when you look at it, oh look at that, it’s–

William: My mother’s.

Mary: Your mother’s? Wow. Beautiful. Ring. That was your mother’s. Ring, ruby, ring, ruby, ring–

William: She’s dead.

Mary: What? Oh, I’m sorry. About that– that she’s dead. What happened? Sorry! No, none of my business. Poor Mum! Um, my mom is dead. Died when I was a child so… I know what it’s like. To have a dead mum. *awkward laughter*

William: You don’t have to smile for me. You don’t have to pretend.

Mary: Dearest dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband– this is the woman again, um... You’ll find a pair of horns on your front door for… it appears I’ve taken another husband. Hm…

*whistle*

Anne: I brought you a going-away present. It’s another goldfish.

Mary: Thank you, sister.

Anne: I knew you already that one, so you’d like it. I hope they don’t eat each other. Do goldfish eat each other? Is it a long trip to Holland?

Mary: I don’t know!

Anne: You seem glum. Story time! When Aunt Catherine–

Mary and Anne: God save her!

Anne: Married Uncle Charlie–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: She had to leave Portugal in order to marry him. She hadn’t even met him yet, so I guess it could be worse.

Mary: Yes, but she came to England, I’m leaving it!

Anne: Yeah, fair. Just trying to help.

Mary: I don’t need your help, dear sister, this is my cross to bear.

Anne: Saint Mary the Martyr of English diplomacy! If only you were Catholic.

Mary and Anne: *spit*

*whistle*

Mary: I’ve never left London, that’s what scares me the most. God be with thee, sister. God be with thee, England.

William: …Two.

Mary: Oh. Yes, Anne got me one as a going-away pr– okay.

Anne: I hate him.

Mary: Well, he’s your brother now.

Anne: Please, I hated him when he was my cousin. I think you should be the first Protestant saint just for sleeping with him. I can’t even imagine!

Mary: …Neither can I.

Anne: WHAT?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!

Mary: Well, considering we haven’t, that’s everything to tell!

Anne: Oh my God! You’ve been married a week!

Mary: This stays between you and me, Anne!

Anne: Oh, but Mary, I have to tell my friends!

Mary: I don’t like your friends!

Anne: Fuck you! The court would die if they knew!

Mary: No!

Anne: But Mary, you can’t tell something this juicy and force me to hold it inside!

Mary: Shh!

Anne: But it’s not you Mary, it’s him. That puny prig.

Mary: No.

Anne: But you don’t even like him!

Mary: What wife likes her husband?

Anne: He’s so gross and I used to think you were gross, but he’s like, super gross. Oh thank God you’re not screwing! Your kids would be so gro– I didn’t realize Papa hadn’t told you the truth about him!

Mary: Oh, what did father say?

Anne: He buggers boys. Said he buggers boys. Said if he takes the throne, England gets two queens.

Mary: …I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths, Anne… And tell my other husband I’ll send her the new address.

Anne: Gross! [indecipherable] each other!

*Dutch folk music* / exert of “Klompe Dans” by Camerata Trajectina

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Oh, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Ah, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you.

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, good day William!

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Life in Holland. It’s beautiful. It’s very, very clean.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Your ladyship?

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you! Please keep talking, Betty.

Betty: Your ladyship–

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Anything in English– thank you!

Betty: *whispers*

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

*fanfare*

Betty: Supper time!

Mary: I’m not hungry.

Betty: Not you, your ladyship.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland…

Mary: …Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

Mary: I must grin when my heart is fit to break, I must speak when my heart is so oppressed I can scarcely breathe.

Betty: Oh, that’s real pretty. The Bastard, your ladyship.

Mary: The Bastard?

Betty: Your half-cousin, King Charles II– God Save Him–’s bastard son, your ladyship.

Mary: Here?

Betty: Uh-huh.

Mary: Whoo!

Monmouth: Cousin!

William: Let me not interrupt your reunion. Continue this.

Mary: How’s home?

Monmouth: England is good! The family not so much. My father, Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –seems ill. Parliament hates your father, James (the eventual second) since he’s decided to be Catholic–

Mary and Monmouth: *spit*

Monmouth: –since we just had nine years of civil war, ugh! People would rather avoid any foreseeable royalist drama, so Parliament wrote the Exclusion Act to keep your father off the throne.

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –refused to sign it.

Mary: Oh, good.

Monmouth: No! That’s why [indecipherable] is shit! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –dissolved Parliament, hoping to form a more moderate one.

Mary: Oh, good!

Monmouth: No! Bad! A group of Protestants then tried to blow up my papa Charlie–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –on his way back from a race to [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: Oh yes!

Monmouth: –[indecipherable] watching the race, ALL OF NEWMARKET CAUGHT ON FIRE!!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No, that’s good! Charles’– God save him– house in Newmarket was destroyed, so they had to leave the race early, thus foiling the plot to kill him!

Mary: Oh, God is very generous to our family. And how’s Anne?

Monmouth: Married.

Mary: Oh, to one of the inbred cousins?

Monmouth: We’re royal! Inbred cousins are the only dignified option! How’s life in the Dutch court?

Mary: Um… clean, it’s very, very clean.

Monmouth: Ah, thank God you have William.

Mary: *hysterical laughter* ...Yes. No, I do see William from time to time. He likes to walk from stage left to stage right to stage right to stage left.

Monmouth: Incredibly generous man– looking forward to our dinner tonight! He invited me to hunt tomorrow and all the rest of next week! Very charming!

Mary: You’ve only been onstage for a minute and a half!

Betty: There are more officials for you to meet, your ladyship.

Monmouth: See you around, cuz. Ch-cha! …Ch-cha!

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

William: …Welkom in Nederland! *laughter, interrupted by violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Alright! Her ladyship has another engagement she must prepare for, so sorry!

Mary: Ugh, what’s next Betty?

Betty: Nothing, your ladyship. I just think you’ve been gawked at enough today.

Mary: Oh, thank you Betty!

Betty: What’s a lady-in-waiting for?

Mary: But I’m afraid William might be cross once he finds out I didn’t finish all the state greetings. I guess I’d actually have to spend time with him for him to be cross with me.

Betty: He’s not one to get cross about things; he’s quite charming actually if you get past the hermetic silence.

Mary: I suppose he prefers the company of *whispered* his men?

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: *laughing*

William: *starts coughing violently*

Monmouth: I love this guy!

*fanfare*

Betty: You’ve heard that already, have you?

Mary: Is it true?

Betty: Rumors, your ladyship. I also heard rumors of a girl who wrote letters to a woman she called her husband. And I now know a woman who still writes these letters!

Mary: Dismissed!

Betty: Your ladyship.

Mary: Wait. Put the children to bed, will you? Wait– wait, wait wait– just [indecipherable]. Don’t judge me! Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– stop!– husband… Let me start again: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband: You’ve not responded to any of my letter as of late!

Anne: Dearest sister!

Mary: Oh good God, Anne! Still able to interrupt me from across the English Chanel!

Anne: It is with good nice that I write. Since we last spoke… I’m pregnant!

Mary and Anne: *squeeing*

Anne: I know! I know! I fucking know! Ah, someone has to produce some heirs in this family!

Mary: Hey…

Anne: What have you been up to? Oh! My friends are here! Thank you, sis!

Mary: Anne is pregnant. My younger sister is pregnant …I’m jealous! Ugh!

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: To hunt!

Monmouth: ♪ I’ll sing you eight, O! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Green grow the rushes, O! ♪

William: ♪ What are your eight, O? ♪

Monmouth: ♪ Eight for the April Rainers! ♪

William: ♪ Seven for the seven stars in the sky! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Six for the six proud walkers! ♪ Five for the symbols at your door! ♪ Four for the Gospel makers! ♪ THREE, THREE THE RIVALS! ♪ Two, two the lily-white boys! ♪ Clothed all in green, O! ♪ One is one and all alone! ♪ And evermore shall be so! ♪

*fanfare*

Mary: Betty!

Betty: *imitating the song*

Mary: Stop!

Betty: Oh! Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: My cousin, the Bastard, and Prince William have been spending an awful lot of time together!

Betty: William loves the hunt.

Mary: How do you know?!

Betty: He told me!

Mary: You’ve spoken with him? Am I the only person in the entire world who’s not had a single conversation with my husband?!

Betty: You just need to catch him in the right mood.

*fanfare*

Mary: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– Oh my God, you’re pathetic! Two husbands and neither one replies!

Anne: Okay, so I wasn’t pregnant. Well, I was, but I’m not anymore.

Mary: Oh… Anne I’m so sorry!

Anne: I know. But I will be again. Maybe tonight! God be with me!

Mary: I don’t have to be Mary the Martyr. I can fix him. I can make it work. It’s a job, right? I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m just doing my job!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! Um, I was wondering–

William: Nothing!

Monmouth: The hunt did not go well!

William: Ugh!

Anne: Yup, pregnant!

Mary: Again? Wow!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’d love to talk with you!

William: …but–but–but we’re going to the hunt?

Mary: Yes, but I’d really like to talk with you.

William: …Okay?

Mary: In private.

William: Um… After the hunt?

Mary: Yeah, okay, sure.

*fanfare*

Anne: Okay, that pregnancy wasn’t meant to be, but tonight, THIS IS THE ONE!

Mary: Tonight, this is the one!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’m so looking forward to our evening!

William: Not in the mood!

Monmouth: The stag got away!

*fanfare*

Mary: The stag got away…

Anne: Pregnant!

Mary: Ugh!

*fanfare*

Mary: William, wait! Tonight?

William: Eh!

Mary: Wait! Here, for good luck!

Monmouth: *retching*

*fanfare*

Mary: Tonight! Tonight!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, husband! How was the hunt?

William: I got the stag!

Mary: Oh, you must be very merry!

William: I… uh… I’m exhausted. Ugh…

Monmouth: Come on. Shake it off.

William: *violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Mary: I will force myself to love this creature.

*fanfare*

Mary: *screams* ...Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! It must have been a chill!

William: [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh, oh no! Oh no! Oh, my slipper! Oh, I–I’m so sorry to, uh, keep you from you duties!

William: I’ve been meaning to schedule a time for our talk.

Mary: Oh, you remembered?

William: What was the subject?

Mary: Us. You and me. Us and our… duties.

William: Ah. Our political duties are not as rulers, but as first citizens. Stadtholder means “the first citizen.” It is very different from life in England. For example, no Dutch citizen kisses my hand. In the Netherlands, we are all equals. Calvinists, Protestants, Jews– even the Jews Mary. [indecipherable] Do you like Holland?

Mary: Oh, it’s very, very clean. I’m not, um… I’m not sure if I’m fitting in.

William: Well, I don’t fit in and I was born here.

Mary: I feel the same way about my family.

William: Our family.

Mary: You’re very close to the Bastard, you know. Hunting and… actually talking and I was thinking, now that we’re actually talking, Anne is pregnant… again.

William: Ja? ...Yes? …This life is not the life you wanted, is that a true thing I just said? Bastard! Where is [indecipherable]?!

Monmouth: *whispers*

William: Your uncle, Charles II–

Mary: God save him!

William: –he’s dead.

Charles: …Oh.

Anne: I had a miscarriage. Oh, and Daddy’s the king now. God save him.

William: To his newly crowned majesty– James II– I send you greetings–

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James II! Boy, you’re the husband of my eldest daughter, the heir apparent to the throne of England, my father’s grandchild, my son-in-law: it’s King James II!

William: Ah. From one very close ally to another very, very close ally– that is what we still are, right?

James: Say it! Say my name, William!

William: King James II?

James: YES! That’s me, the king! Say it again!

William: King James II, I first wish to send you condolences on the death of your brother, God save hi–

James: I was at his bed when he passed.

William: Surely, you provided much comfort to Charles–

James: Oh, “surely provided much comfort to Charles,” yes! He converted, on his deathbed, to Catholicism!

William: *spits*

James: I’ll never forget his final words to me: “Make sure my whores don’t starve!” Men of power keep mistresses, you know… Do you know that, William?

William: …Well, uh, the reason I write is because, well, I have an offer for you. You see, here in Europe we have a little club. I call it “a league”. Not everyone is allowed into it, actually, but England most definitely would be allowed in “the league”. It is what may be described as “exclusive”. A lot of really great countries have joined: uh, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, even Savoy.

James: Which countries are not allowed?

William: France.

James: Oh, don’t like Louis, do we?

William: No, I don’t! Louis wants to be king of Europe and he– he is routinely invading us here in Holland. Your son-in-law: who is that? That is me! Which I know you aren’t thrilled about, but your daughter is the Princess of Orange. Louis XIV is invading not just my country, but also her country.

James: Please. Mary’s country is, and always will be, England!

William: And as the future Queen of England, you should protect her.

James: I wouldn’t be so sure about Mary. While she is the eldest, she’s still a woman, and unlike you, William, I plan to perform kingly duties with my queen.

William: I just wanted to invite you to our league.

James: I’m very important, I’ve got to go.

William: France is at our borders as we speak!

James: That’s not my problem. Mary was betrothed to him for years, you know, before she married you. My idiot brother made that happen against my protests but I’m the king now! I wasn’t supposed to be, but God wanted me. God needs me! Sixty years of second-fiddle to King Syphilis and now I’m calling the shots, William! I don’t need you, you need me, and frankly, I don’t really like you.

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!

William: Why you do that?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!! Thank you. Ooo, ooo, how they all loved my brother Charles the Pervert– forced me to marry my daughter to that Dutch abortion! Now, I’d like to speak to the court! You all like… gossip, don’t you? Let’s talk about William.

*retro music / exert of “O Samba Brasileiro” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: They’re laughing, Maria Regina. They’ve been whispering all morning and I don’t– I don’t want to sound paranoid but… I hear my name. I hear William’s name and I hear… Betty’s name.

Messengers: God save him!

Mary: Hello?

Messenger 1: Your father sends us–

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: James II–

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Oh, Father sends you?

Messengers: God save him, yes!

Messenger 2: In his infinite and divine wisdom, we were sent to you–

Messenger 1: His oldest daughter–

Messenger 2: Possibly the future queen–

Mary: Possibly?

Messenger 1: Your mother, the queen–

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Messenger 2: Is hoping to reward England with many sons–

Messenger 1: But one’s eyes are to the future–

Messenger 2: He hasn’t forgotten his eldest.

Mary: Oh, we haven’t spoken–

Messenger 1: He thinks of you often.

Mary: Well, he doesn’t write.

Messenger 1: It’s not that he thinks of you as you are–

Mary: Okay…?

Messenger 2: More for what you could be.

Mary: Well, I’m just happy that he’s thinking of me.

Messenger 2: He’s thinking of your soul.

Messenger 1: Your eternal soul.

Messenger 2: Your eternal, everlasting soul.

Mary: Yup, those both mean the same thing.

Messenger 1: Since Jesus was crucified–

Messenger 2: [indecipherable], mind you–

Mary: Yes, I’ve heard.

Messenger 1: A church was born–

Messenger 2: The Catholic Church!

Mary: *spits* Oh, sorry, habit.

Messenger 1: James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has sent us–

Messenger 2: In his infinite and sacred judgment–

Messengers: To convert you to Catholicism!

Mary: …Yeah, no, I’m good.

Messenger 1: It’s the true faith.

Mary: Yes, next time he could just write.

Messenger 2: [indecipherable] reading materials!

Mary: Right, or even visit–

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] all the celebrities are Catholic.

Messenger 2: Wow, really?

Messenger 1: Really!

Messengers: Like who?

Messenger 2: The pope, you ever heard of him?

Messenger 1: Of course! Wow, the pope is Catholic?

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: God!

Mary: Debatable.

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: Louis XIV.

Messenger 1: Whoah, he’s a heartthrob.

Mary: Yes, okay, I’ve heard enough!

Messenger 1: But Louis’ such a hunk!

Messenger 2: And Catholic!

Messenger 1: And… He’s Catholic?

Messenger 2: You better believe it!

Messengers: A Catholic hunk!

Mary: Okay, I’m married!

Messenger 1: For now.

Mary: …Excuse me?

Messenger 1: Hard to ignore the rumors–

Messenger 2: Naughty rumors–

Messenger 1: Everyone’s tittling–

Messenger 2: A-tittle here, a-tittle there–

Messengers: Tittle everywhere!

Messenger 1: That little Dutch devil–

Messenger 2: Evil Protestant pervert–

Mary: Oh, no, no, no, him buggering boys– that’s just a rumor!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messengers: Buggering boys?!

Messenger 1: More like buggering the help.

Messenger 2: Dutch devil!

Mary: With the help?

Messengers: Buggering the help.

Messenger 1: Yes, everyone knows–

Messenger 2: Knows her name even.

Mary: Do you know their name?

Messenger 1: Well, I’ve said everyone–

Messenger 2: We’re part of everyone–

Mary: So, yes?

Messengers: Yes!

Mary: What’s his name?

Messenger 1: His name?

Messenger 2: His name?

Messengers: Squinty Betty!

Messenger 1: Squinty Betty’s a man?

Messenger 2: I didn’t know she was a man!

Messeger 1: No, I bet Betty’s a man.

Messenger 2: No, man, she’s a wo-man.

Messenger 1: Wo-man?

Messengers: Wo-man, she’s a wo-man!

Mary: Wait, Squinty Betty?!

Messenger 1: And the Dutch devil!

Messenger 2: Evil Dutch devil!

Messenger 1: Evil!

Messenger 2: Evil: that’s not good!

Messenger 1: No, it’s not good!

Messenger 2: That’s the opposite of good!

Messengers: And what’s the opposite of good?

Mary: Evil!

Messangers: *scream*

Mary: *screams*

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has the fires burning.

Mary: Fires?

Messenger 2: To feel the heat.

Messenger 1: Ow!

Messenger 2: Careful.

Messenger 1: It’s the heat.

Messenger 2: I feel it.

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] King James [indecipherable] our beloved England [indecipherable] burning more evil people than Charles ever did.

Mary: Wait, he’s burning people?

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: He’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Father’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Jesus!

Messengers: Praise him!

Messenger 1: Praise Jesus!

Messenger 2: Praise God!

Messenger 1: Praise the pope!

Messenger 2: And above all, praise the king!

Messengers: God save King James II, long may he reign!

Mary: …William and Betty– no… No, I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths… Betty! Um, throw these away. And, um, put the children to bed, will you? Oh– oh– oh– oh– oh, um… question: how is it you always to find William in such a talkative mood?

Betty: I just run into him.

*laid back retro music / exert of “Rain” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: It’s late. No, you don’t have to leave. You were in Betty’s room. Do you know how I know that? Maybe because the entire court is talking about it! No, you don’t need to talk! I have tried to get you to talk for months, you do not need to talk now! Fuck off, Betty! The longest I’ve ever spent with you is [indecipherable]. You’re impossible! You’re thick! Uncaring! Cruel! My life here is suffering and now you make me the fool? To my father, to the court, and to myself! I’m the fool! You know, it was better when I thought you were gay; I thought “Well, at least it’s not my fault” but now I know, “No, it is my fault!” You turned down marrying me once before, why did you have to say yes this time? I was engaged to Louis XIV! I could’ve been in Versailles, in the most beautiful place on Earth and I would’ve been happy– no, I would be happy! And I would be liked and my family would love me and I would’ve done everything right, but then you came along! And ruined it! And everything! And me! And– this isn’t right! No! This is not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be me and Louis and it would’ve been right and normal and then I would be normal and happy and I don’t know– I don’t know why you had to say yes this time! Louis– Louis– Louis is– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis’ the king! Right? Right? And he’s beautiful! I assume. I’ve seen the portraits– which are rarely accurate– but I’ve always wanted to marry him! Well, I was always supposed to marry him– but at least he’s nice! Yes, I’ve not met him, but at least I’ve heard that he’s ni– well, I guess I’ve actually not heard anything, but I was alway supposed to ma– Well, I guess I always– Okay, well, I guess I’ve never really actually thought about it! Well, I guess I never actually like Louis, or men… Men in general. I mean, I write to a woman who I call my husband, and I’ve always had a crush on her, but she’s not very nice to me, and she writes to my sister more than she writes to me, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’M A LESBIAN, OKAY?! I don’t like men! But I don’t know if I like women either– historically speaking, there’s some things we just can’t know about me, okay, historically speaking– but personally speaking, you know what? I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!! How am I supposed to know?! You know what? No! I didn’t want to marry Louis, now that I think about it, because, well, I never actually thought about it because, well, I’M NEVER SUPPOSED TO THINK! But I am gonna think! Like you said, we’re just first citizens here, right? So I’m allowed to think! So I’m gonna think! So I’m gonna think! Right, let me think! …Okay. I have something to say. I’m fifteen years old, William. Do you have any idea how scary this is? Leaving my country, marrying you, a stranger, I… I don’t speak the language, I don’t have any friends, and you, my husband, are still a stranger. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to like me. But please don’t be cruel to me. I… I do not know how much… more a fifteen year old girl can take.

William: …Betty’s a spy. Before I married you, I had asked her to inform me about you.

Mary: Yeah, a spy, that’s the best you could come up with–

William: It’s true.

Mary: Yes, my lady-in-waiting is a spy! …Well, what did Betty the spy say?

William: She said you weren’t like your family.

Mary: Well, I tried to be like them.

William: I never tried.

Mary: Well, I think that makes you honest.

William: But not liked.

Mary: Well, they don’t like either of us. We share that at least.

William: I need to say something.

Mary: Okay! Good! Yeah! Okay! I’m here! I can listen! …Is it a problem? Is it personal? Is it about what I think it’s about? I know what it is, William.

William: You do?

Mary: Yes. It’s about–

Mary and William: Your penis / Your father

William: Wait, what?!

Mary: What about my father?

William: He terrifies me.

Mary: Oh, yeah, me too.

William: The balance of peace in this world is a delicate thing and James isn’t.

Mary: You can talk to me about these things, William. I know who my father is, you’re not going to hurt my feelings.

William: Yes… My penis?

Mary: Oh, um, well, I mean… why haven’t we…?

William: I’m uncomfortable around–

Mary: Me.

William: …people.

Mary: Oh, yeah, well, same, haha... But, um… It’s just a job, right? We would just be… doing our… our job.

*classical music / exert of “Zadok The Priest, Hwv 258″ by the English Chamber Orchestra*

William: *panting*

Mary: I HAVE NEWS! …I’M PREGNANT!! I did it! William did it! We, um… well, obviously, we did it. Oh my God, I feel a strange thing!

William: Are you okay?!

Mary: No! Yes! No! …I feel… happy.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: Hello, Anne!

Anne: Hello, Mary.

Mary: You’re pregnant?

Anne: No, Mumsy is.

Mary: She’s not our mother.

Anne: They say if it’s a boy, God has chosen to make England Catholic again, but that’s only a 50-50 chance.

Mary: No, he wouldn’t baptize him Catholic, Anne.

Anne: I wouldn’t be so sure.

Mary: But we’ve just had nine years of civil war, why would he lead us into another?

Anne: To save us from the Dutch Devil.

William: Me?

Anne: I prefer “the Dutch Abortion” but “devil” isn’t bad. Gotta go!

Mary: God be with thee, Anne.

Anne: P.S. I may be pregnant, not sure.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Mary: Ohhh!

Messengers: Glorious day!

Messenger 1: Tra-la!

Messenger 2: We’ve been sent to you by your father, the king!

Messenger 1: God save him!

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Again, he could always just write.

Messenger 1: He has his own pregnancy to attend to.

Messenger 2: His future son!

Mary: Are you certain about that?

Messenger 1: God ordained it!

Messenger 2: A Catholic England!

Messengers: Tra-la!

Messenger 1: We’ve been sent to beseech you.

Messenger 2: Consider your child’s–

Messenger 1: Everlasting soul!

Messenger 2: Baptize your child in the Catholic faith!

Mary: *spits* …morning sickness.

Messenger 1: For your child!

Messenger 2: For your father!

Messenger 1: You must respect him!

Messenger 2: Honor him!

Messenger 1: It’s in the Bible!

Messenger 2: “Honor thy father”!

Messengers: The Fifth Commandment!

Messenger 1: Honor the king of England!

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: Long may he reign!

Messenger 2: For England!

Messengers: Make the baby Catholic!

William: Mary?

Mary: Yes?

William: Honor is not obeying.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: You’re pregnant.

Anne: Besides that, Mary, but yes.

Mary: Oh, congratulations!

Anne: Yes, same to you!

Mary: Thank you!

Anne: Thank you! I have news: people are talking about Mother’s pregnancy–

Mary: Ah, she’s not our mother.

Anne: –And they think it’s all a big fake! Everyone is saying how [video skips]

Mary: Who’s saying that?

Anne: The court, Parliament, everyone! Oh, they don’t like Papa; they say every nineteen out of twenty want him gone.

Mary: Yes, but not likely cause the king does not–

William: Mary–

Anne: Ew!

Mary: Anne!

Anne: Sorry… Hello, William… glad you got my sister pregnant. *retches*

Mary: No. No, it’s not right for me to dance… No! No, I can have this moment! I can be happy! Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me– *claps* –from enjoying this moment! Go ahead!

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Monmouth: Ah! I thank you for the generosity both you and William have shown me over the last undetermined period of time, but I must leave.

William: Oh, where’re you going? I was going to plan another hunt.

Monmouth: There comes a time in every mans life where the cruel, [indecipherable] eye of destiny looks upon him! The hero of every story has his moment of action! [indecipherable] standing on the precipice of glory to see the apotheosis of my journey’s end on that glorious mountain green! Today I sail! This story shall no longer wander unguided like an orphan clinging from one vague historical anecdote to another! No! Search no longer, poor play, for you have found your hero! And that hero… it’s me. Someone has to save our England! I have a mighty army of almost one hundred men! Eighty two to be exact!

Mary: Wait, with eighty two men you’re planning to–

Monmouth: Invade England, seize the crown, depose your father, my uncle, and save England from Catholic *spits* tyranny?

Mary: You’re planning on doing this with…

Monmouth: Eighty two men! Historically, this is what I did, so yah. [indecipherable] sweet cousin, it will be a Protestant England! ALL HAIL KING BASTARD THE FIRST! CHA-CHAH! Ah! He-yaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Mary: Eighty two men can’t overthrow the king of England!

William: He’s hoping the people will rise.

Mary: What would they do to father?

William: Kill him.

Mary: Ah! Ah!

William: Okay, okay, okay! The Bastard doesn’t have any support, your father will be fine! You can have this moment; you deserve to be happy.

Mary: How? I may not like my family, but I love them. Yes, I-I deserve to be happy, but Father doesn’t deserve to die!

William: He won’t, he’ll be fine!

Mary: You can’t know that for sure.

William: I do! …I-I promise you– I-I… I promise on the life of our child that nothing will happen to your father. I’ll see to it.

Mary: You will?

William: Mmhm.

Mary: …Okay… Okay, yes, okay… I’m happy.

William: Rest. Nurse? Take my wife to her bedchamber. Make sure she doesn’t want for anything.

Mary: Ooo!

William: [indecipherable]. James?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James?! Use my full title!

William: I have grave news.

James: Oh, has France invaded you again?

William: Your nephew, the Duke of Monmouth–

James: Who?

William: …The Bastard.

James: Oh, why didn’t you say?! How is the lad?

William: He’s leading an army to depose you and take the crown for himself.

James: *laughs* You’re having a laugh! …Shit! How dare he! Doesn’t he know who I am?! I’m the king! I’m very well respected and loved– everybody loves me! *gasps* Why doesn’t he love me?! Oh, he’s just a little shit bastard, I’ll crush him! How dare he not see how awesome I am! How powerful and strong and– oh! I am so mad right now! It was a good day too, it was going really well, I had just finished telling the queen “I’m gonna make it a good one today, you know!” Ugh, I am so mad right now I’m literally shaking! *gasps* I need to eat something!

William: I hope you now see that our relationship is very…

*execution drums / exert from “March to the Scaffold” by Paul Edward*

Headsman: *giggling* For your crimes against the crown, you are sentenced to death!

James: Say hello to your father for me, boy. Any last words?

Monmouth: Fuck off!

James: How dare you! Kill the bastard!

Headsman: God save the king!

James: No one questions my authority!

Monmouth: Piss off!

James: Bastard?!

Monmouth: I have still a few [indecipherable]

James: How dare you! [indecipherable]

Headsman: Thank you. One more!

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh?

Monmouth: You are!

James: Bastard! [indecipherable] I am not a douchebag, I am the king of England!

Monmouth: Douche of England more like it!

James: Cut off his head!

Headsman: [indecipherable] does anyone want to take over, huh?

Monmouth: It takes– ugh! –and this is all true– ugh! –five blows! Ugh! King Douche II! Ugh– *splutters*

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh? Not me. I am not a douche! You hear me, Bastard?! I am not a douche! You hear me, England? I am not a douche! I am King James II! Not King Douche II! King James II! Charles didn’t respect me, and you, you didn’t respect me, but my people will. OR I’LL FUCKING MAKE THEM! They will fucking tremble in love and adoration– ohh! I want hundreds to pay for this bastard’s actions! I don’t care who they were, if they even so much as saw him walk by, they are to be executed. Churchyard trees are to be littered with corpses, the military men will be order to play in time with the twitching of their feet! And if you think that this is too much, too cruel, I’ll remind you: One, I am just being historically accurate, and two, I am the goddamn motherfucking King of England! William!

William: …your majesty.

James: Oh, I couldn’t’ve done it without you! …But I know what this is. Scared to lose a few more windmills to Louis, huh? What, you thought that you could bribe me with this little quid-pro-quo?

William: I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Mary.

James: Mary? Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this. What? You thought that I was so stupid that little nugget of information would have me on all-fours like a whipped bitch begging to do you any favor you asked? No! That little shit was nothing! I could have fought him off while wiping my ass! I owe you nothing! France may be at your borders, but England could join them just as easily! God knows Louis and I talk about it. *laughs* Tip-toe around me, William. Now, I’d like to speak to my daughter. Now!

William: Mary, could you come here, please? I have a letter for you from your father.

Mary: He’s safe! Thank you, William!

James: Mary, my eldest daughter! *laughs* You know, I fought your uncle Charles about you having to marry that–

Mary: [indecipherable] William’s wonderful, actually. Yes, I–I miss my home very much, but Holland, it’s very, very clean.

James: [indecipherable] they tell me you’re considering a Catholic baptism.

Mary: Oh, no I’m not, Father.

James: You have a responsibility to me, Mary. Biblically, I am your father and you must honor me.

Mary: Well– I do honor you.

James: Then you must obey me.

Mary: Well, honor is not obeying.

James: From King Douche II to you now?

Mary: King Douche?

James: How dare you! I am very [indecipherable] you talk back to me. I am your father and you must honor me!

Mary: Enough of this.

James: You will make the child Catholic!

Mary: Stop!

James: We all know you have no choice. You’re a prisoner.

Mary: Please…

James: [indecipherable], Mary, there’s hope in the distance!

Mary: What are you suggesting?

James: Just because you… lie with the Dutch Dog doesn’t mean you need to get its flees.

Mary: He’s my husband!

James: *laughs* William isn’t long for this world.

Mary: What are you planning?

James: Oh, come now!

Mary: What are you plann– ah! Ah!

James: *laughs* You look like him. Can’t even walk without wheezing, spits blood; your time in the tower is almost over, Mary.

Mary: He is the father of my child. William, could you come here, please?

James: *scoffs* Is he the father? Last I heard, he couldn’t perform.

Mary: You’re one to talk!

James: My performance isn’t to be questioned!

Mary: I know the rumors of the queen’s great belly!

James: [indecipherable] rumors: just a few!

Mary: Nineteen out of twenty! That’s what– ah! Ah!

James: Make the child Catholic!

Mary: *spits*

James: Your mother–

Mary: She’s not my mother!

James: No, your real mother! Remember the day she died?

Mary: Please, Father, I’m in pain! I don’t want–

James: The day she died the priest came to administer her last rites, to cleanse her soul. Without it, your mother would be damned for all eternity! Her skin would scorch, blisters would form– weeping blisters!

Mary: *voice breaking* …William?

James: A priest came… and she refused him.

Mary: William! …That’s a lie!

James: After my counseling she refused the Protestant priest. The Catholic bishop was called in and all was confessed. So, in your philosophy, Mary, is it your mother or your child who’s damned to unfathomable pain and suffering? Which is the one true faith? If you baptize that child Protestant, it means you believe it’s your mother suffering, right now as we speak. Have you ever considered hellfire, Mary? *laughs* It’s something to think about. Oh! Your new mummy’s in labour now. Got to run.

Anne: Mary– and William *scoffs*– the queen’s had a baby. It’s a boy. They’ve baptized him Catholic *spits* toldja so. But there’s something else. I have some gossip! All of London– they think it’s a changeling! They think it’s not a real child. They think she snuck a child into her bed to pass off as our brother! Oh! Papa’s going mad. Something’s going to happen. Something bad.

William: May I see it?

Betty: There’s nothing to see. ...You should go to her, William.

*dramatic music / exert from “2020” by SUUNS*

♪ And what you see is really what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ Do what you please, the thing what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ And what you see you feel ♪ ♪ Coming real, take your way ♪ ♪ All through the way… ♪

~ Intermission ~

*guitar strumming*

Chorus: ♪ Good fortune [indecipherable] William and Mary [indecipherable]-tend ♪ ♪ May glories increase and their lives never end ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] daily successes our nation may find ♪ ♪ For England [indecipherable] they both are designed ♪

Mary: William?

William: Huh?

Mary: Why is there a Greek chorus?

William: [indecipherable] chorus now.

Mary: Yes, why?

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commands and we will obey ♪ ♪ Over the hills and far away ♪

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! What story with a Greek chorus ends well?!

William: It’s just a device, Mary, it doesn’t mean–

Mary: The letter! They’re here because of the letter!

William: We received a letter?

Mary: From England. They call themselves–

Chorus: ♪ THE IMMORTAL SEVEN! ♪

Mary and William: The Immortal Seven.

Mary: Parliament has invited us to England.

William: They’ve invited us to invade England.

Mary: Why would they do that?

William: I don’t know.

Mary: We can’t invade!

Chorus: ♪ Invade you must, there’s no time to waste ♪ ♪ James is a monster! Our country defaced ♪ ♪ Blood in the streets and corpses in trees ♪ ♪ Come and put our minds at ease ♪

William: Your father is in talks to invade with Louis. Where? Here! He’s–he’s had his boy and he’s baptized him Catholic and all of England is on the brink of Civil War again!

Mary: What does that have to do with us?

William: Um, well… They want us to depose your father.

Mary: It has to be us?

William: I don’t see another alternative.

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! Is it right?

William: Right? We–we save England, we save the Netherlands, we keep Europe in balance– yes.

Mary: But is it right for a daughter to depose her father? It’s the Fifth Commandment, right? “Honor thy father!”

William: He doesn’t need to die.

Mary: Well, I know my history, William! You only depose a king by killing him. How many former kings do you see walking around?! But… He can’t invade Holland! It’s your country and you care so much for it and the people and it’s so very, very clean– Okay, yes! We should do this. But we have to do it a different way. No blood. No killing. If it’s an invasion, it has to be a bloodless invasion!

William: I don’t know…

Mary: Can you try?

William: Invade one of the most powerful countries in the world, other-throw its king, and not hurt anyone in the process?

Mary: Please?

William: …Ja.

Chorus: *gasps* ♪ What’s that you say? ♪ ♪ We prick up our ears ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] you come ♪ ♪ To end all our fears ♪ ♪ Think of what you both could be ♪ ♪ You’ll go down in history! ♪

Mary: We could, couldn’t we! Imagine all that “First Citizen” stuff here in the Netherlands– we could do that in England! You could bring all of your wonderful ideas to my country! Imagine: Freedom of religion!

William: Freedom of the press!

Mary: And no more torturing! Or bloody pomp and circumstance! And we do it bloodless! We ride into England and the people will rise with us and father will say “Oh wow, that’s what the people want!” And it’ll all work out [indecipherable] Why shouldn’t we be king and queen?! Neither one of us want the damn job so we’re the ones who should have it…

William: Would I be king?

Mary: Yes.

William: Who would you be?

Mary: The queen.

William: Right, but who’s the one in charge?

Mary: …Oh.

William: It would be you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Oh, me? No.

Chorus: *murmuring in agreement*

Mary: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’d rather not.

William: It’s not up to you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Ah, but you! You–you are after me!

William: Right, but you still come first.

Mary: But I don’t want to be queen– okay, wait, wait! Let me think… Okay, solution. ….We’ll… both be king and queen!

William: It does not work that way.

Mary: [spluttering] Listen! We go to England; you raise an army and depose– aw– depose father and then we say “Alright! We’re both king and queen!” What’re they gonna do, say no?

William: Joint monarchs– it would be a first.

Mary: [indecipherable] I don’t know if it’s right. God says to honor thy father, but… that doesn’t feel right.

William: We can say no, Mary.

Mary: No… You okay?

Anne: Yes, quite, sister.

Mary: Okay, good.

Anne: Stop staring at me!

Mary: Let’s keep going. And my heart says to bother you.

William: Your heart says that? What do we want to do?

Chorus: ♪ To England, to England! We sail, we sail! To England, to England! At last, at last! A tempest, a tempest! Begins, begins! And [indecipherable], and [indecipherable]! [indecipherable], [indecipherable]! ♪

Soloist: ♪ To England, we sail / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ The men are afraid ♪ ♪ There’s no debate ♪ ♪ Revolution now must wait ♪

*storm sounds*

Mary: Ahh!

William: THEY’RE CALLING IT THE CATHOLIC WIND! WE CANNOT SAIL FOR ENGLAND UNTIL IT PASSES! WE’VE ALREADY LOST A THOUSAND HORSES! WE HAVE FORTY THOUSAND MEN WAITING TO INVADE– BUT THIS WIND!!

Mary: There have been so many omens! This wind; the miscarriage! Is it a sign from God?! Can a daughter who deposes her father be a Christian?! Can doing what’s right and God’s will be at odds?!

William: WHAT?!

Mary: CAN DOING WHAT’S RIGHT AND GOD’S WILL BE AT ODDS?!

William: Oh, it is over.

Chorus: ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ William and Mary, our God has ordained ♪ ♪ Rex and Regina, this we say ♪ ♪ Sail on the future king’s birthday ♪

Mary: Wait, really?

William: Ja. It’s my birthday. The fourth. Historically, that’s just how it happened to work out.

Mary: Oh! Well, that’s a good omen, right? Happy birthday to you!

William: Yes.

Mary: William, wait! Look… I respect you. And, under normal circumstances, I would never breach this, um, unspoken agreement, but, um, it’s his birthday– ah, could we– um, uh– you know– could we do just one round of “Happy Birthday”? Um, what’s a good starting note? *hums* Is that good? *hums* Ready?

Mary, chorus, and audience: ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday dear William! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to your! ♪

*cheering*

William: This is the greatest birthday present I’ve ever received. Thank you.

Chorus: ♪ William has come and we will defend ♪ ♪ To kick out the tyrant and and then will ascend ♪ ♪ His first steps on English soil ♪ ♪ Defender of faith and [indecipherable] ♪

William: Hello? Where the hell is everyone?

Peasant: *screams* Oh, it’s [indecipherable] Day. Everyone’s busy catching cats.

William: Ah. Well, um, I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith and– wait, why are you catching cats?

Peasant: To [indecipherable] the pope.

William: Ah. Well, I am William of Orange, Defende– the pope?

Peasant: *sighs* Not the real one sadly, but yeah. [indecipherable] cats and set them on fire.

William: Why you do this?

Peasant: For God! It’s tradition! …You’re not from around here are ya, foreigner!

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolu– ♪

Peasant: [indecipherable] you are making such a racket!

William: I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith!

*cat screeches*

Peasant: [indecipherable] you scared the cat!

William: Good woman, have you not heard of our coming?

Peasant: …[indecipherable] in England?

William: I–

Peasant: [indecipherable] and whip em til their backs be bloody!! Ngyeehhhhhhhhh!!

William: *screams* I AM WILLIAM OF ORANGE! I COME FROM THE HAGUE BY INVITATION OF PARLIAMENT! Good lady! We come to overthrow King James II.

Peasant: *spits*

William: Progress. I am the [indecipherable]’s husband and myself, third in line. We come to bring stability and religious… freedom to this… country.

Peasant: Oh, you and what army?

Chorus: ♪ We are [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ Join is so you [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ James will soon be overthrown ♪

Peasant: Oh, [indecipherable], sir! I don’t have anything of worth but… I’d be proud to give you my cats.

William: *coughs*

Peasant: Oh, must be the cat smoke.

William: Oh, this air is filthy. I need a little rest.

Messenger: ♪ One man tried to poison your food ♪

Anne: ♪ Some with bullets [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ Mostly [indecipherable] ready to fight ♪

Charles: ♪ [indecipherable] horse was white! ♪

William: Let us move forward!

James: William! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!

Chorus: ♪ James was appalled by the sight that he saw ♪

James: ♪ I’ll have your head, boy, remember [indecipherable]! ♪

Chorus: ♪ Soon his generals started to fall ♪

James: ♪ Troops, make an example of him! ♪

Chorus: ♪ James’ troops then began to abandon ♪ ♪ Our glorious William now [indecipherable] ♪

James: Did you not all swear your loyalty?! You are all my subjects! *gaps* Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You must swear your loyalty to your father! It is God’s will! The Fifth Commandment! Consider the hell– *splutters* What the hell? Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ Blood from his nose ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] to God ♪ ♪ James was denied ♪ ♪ His royal throne ♪

James: No! No! What the hell?! *spluttering* The Fifth Commandment– shit! This is terribly inconvenient

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To James [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ His nose really bled ♪

James: WAIT, WHAT?!!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To France, King James ♪ ♪ Finally fleeeeeeeeeeee– ♪

James: STOP SINGING!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ –eeeeeeeedddddd ♪

James: What, is this really historically accurate?! You’re just gonna let me go, William?! HA! Coward! I will return, William, I promise you that! Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You will suffer the fait of an unfaithful daughter. This is not how my story was… suppose to be told… To France.

Chorus: ♪ William has won now that James has fled ♪

William: *prolonged violent coughing*

Chorus: ♪ London is happy! ♪ ♪ With bonfires lit ♪ ♪ Willy’s lungs can’t take the smoke ♪ ♪ And all the fog just made him choke ♪ ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commanded and now we’ve won ♪ ♪ Our new day begins with the rising of the sun! ♪ ♪ Of the sun! ♪

William: *groaning, gasping for breath*

#redlady speaks #it takes. a really long time to transcribe something #history brainrot #william iii #mary ii #the glorious revolution #charles ii #james ii #queen anne #the stuarts

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estrel · 4 years

Text

Catalysts & Changes: a 15x16 Meta

I wanted to talk really quickly about Dean’s change this season, especially regarding 15x16.

My main focus of this meta is to talk about Mary’s impact on Dean being the catalyst for this change we’ve been seeing, but I’m also going to be mentioning some Cas/destiel things to tie into this. So, here we go:

I. Mary as Catalyst & Myth

Mary is Dean’s reason. By that I mean that literally the whole reason Dean hunts--or, rather, continues to hunt, since John honestly forced it on him--was all in the hopes of catching what killed Mary. That was the main purpose of season 1, other than finding John. This is Dean’s motivation, his basis as a character.

Dean has also mentioned on multiple occasions that Mary was why he was brave, why he kept fighting, and that he often thought about her.

Dean: I was scared, too. I didn’t feel like talking, just like you. But see, my mom...I know she wanted me to be brave. I think about that every day (1.03 Dead in the Water)

Remember this quote, because I think it’s eerily similar to the one in 15.16 that I’ll talk about later in this post.

This makes sense--she’s his mom, he should be affected in some way about her death. But Dean takes it to the extreme, based his life around it, held on to it for far too long. Sam was different, because he never actually knew Mary, and we know from earlier seasons that their feelings about her are pretty different.

Meanwhile, almost any time Dean has dreamt of something ideal, Mary was there (think of his djinn dream in 2.20 where Mary never died, and in heaven in 5.16). We can especially see that this is true because of what Amara said in Gimme Shelter:

Dean: What was the point?

Amara: I wanted two things for you, Dean. I wanted you to see that your mother was just a person. That the myth you’d held onto for so long of a better life, a life where she’d lived, was just that: a myth. I wanted you to see that the real, complicated Mary, was better than your childhood dream because she was real. That now is always better than then. That you could finally start to accept your life. (15.15 Gimme Shelter)

Here, Amara was anticipating a turning point. She had wanted Dean to be “released” by having Mary back, but obviously this didn’t happen. Instead, Mary’s death was once again the catalyst for Dean’s change, just like it was the first time when Azazel killed her. We can also see from this that Dean has always been stuck in the past, hence Amara telling him that he should be focusing on now, instead. Another thing to note for future reference is the “real” line. Remember Cas saying “we are” when Dean asks him what is real.

Mary was also not exactly what Sam or Dean--hell, not even the viewers--had been expecting when she returned. She was scared, alone, and had trouble dealing with being back in a new century with her little boys all grown up and even worse-- hunting. But Dean eventually accepted this. He accepted the real version of Mary, but continued to idolize her and bring up the past.

II. Mary’s Death

Now let’s take a look at what’s happened since Mary’s second death:

Denial. Dean hopes Mary isn’t actually dead, even though all signs point to this.

Grief. Dean cries alone at the site of her death.

Blame. Dean blames Jack and Cas for what happened.

During and after the funeral, Dean avoids talking about it with anyone. However, he is obviously affected by her death. Sam even holds Cas back from going to Dean while burning the pyre. Bobby makes a comment about Dean being a lot like him and not wanting to show his feelings to others.

These all sound like the Dean that’s been built up since season 1. Not dealing with his feelings properly at all, pushing people away, denial. The one thing that makes this time different from other deaths, though, is that--just like the first time Mary died--there's no body to bring back. It's implied in 14.19 that if there had been, Dean would have tried, because he even tells Sam:

Note: This is also an episode where we see Jack being a mirror for Dean by doing exactly that--doing everything in his power to try to bring Mary back by himself. It doesn’t work; Mary’s gone for good. And she’s happy--she’s in heaven!

In addition to there not being a body, Dean also knows who did it. It's not some unidentifiable yellow-eyed demon that he can spend years tracking down, it's Jack. It's his son, it's someone he can't and won't kill, because he's family, even if he’s guilty. So Dean has no outlet for his rage except to put blame on not only Jack, but Cas (specifically in 15.03 The Rupture, Jack is dead at this point and he pushes Cas away for several episodes). And here is where Dean begins to change.

III. The Shift: Anger, Apologies, and Forgiveness

Because then, in 15.09 The Trap, there is a big, significant shift. Dean forgives Cas:

Dean: You’re my best friend, but I just let you go. ‘Cause it was easier than admitting I was wrong.

He cries, looks around, and gets on his knees.

Dean: I don’t know why I get so angry. I just know-I just know that it’s just always been there. And when things go bad, it just-it comes out. And I can’t- I can’t stop it. No matter how--how bad I want to, I just can’t stop it. And I forgive you, of course I forgive you. I’m sorry it took me so long to...I’m sorry it took me ‘til now to say it. (15.09 The Trap)

This is an incredibly important scene because it shows that Dean knows about his anger--the anger that Amara talks about in 15x15, and he wants to stop it.

Amara: I thought having [Mary] back would release you...put that fire out. Your anger. But I guess we both know I failed at that.

Dean: You’re damn right. (15.15 Gimme Shelter)

After this, Dean clarifies that he’s not only angry, but furious. This is change, this is change caused directly by Mary’s death--by Amara bringing her back again. Dean might say he is furious, but he has also said before that he wants to stop his anger. And, in many ways, he’s been taking steps towards doing that:

For example, here in 15.09 when Dean forgives Cas, (gif credit)

and here in 15.14 when he tells Jack he’s trying to forgive him for killing Mary, (gif credit)

and again in 15.16 for not telling Sam and Caitlin about the dead bodies when they were younger (gif credit)

and most recently, at the end of 15.16, when he didn’t tell Sam about Jack dying. (gif credit)

So now we’ve taken the turn towards forgiveness. Dean has been handing out apologies and forgiveness like never before this season, which is a definite change to how it used to be with him. He’s opening up, and he is trying to do better and be better than before. Billie also tells him this at the diner:

(gif credit)

I’m inclined here to believe that Dean is on that road to forgiveness with Jack. I mean, he said it himself in 15.14 that he’s trying, and Cas also vouched for him when Jack asked if forgiveness from Dean was a possibility. So in 15.16, when Dean says they have “no choice” but to let Jack die, it’s not because it doesn’t haunt him. It clearly does, with the entire episode dealing with Dean coping with the deaths of children, even his brother. He doesn’t want Jack to die, but his anger, his fury towards Chuck is taking precedence over that. It’s something he wants to change, but feels like he has no choice in the matter.

To add on to this, Jack has been a clear mirror for Dean this entire season. Dean’s argument with Sam about them having no choice is an indication of this. Just an episode prior in 15.15, Jack told Cas that the choice wasn’t his whether or not Jack died. So the pair ups in 15.17 aren’t all that surprising. With the episode being titled “Unity,” I think that the four of them will reach an agreement by the end of the episode (I keep mentioning agreements in all of my metas, because I think Chuck/Amara and Sam/Eileen’s agreement had important implications, but alas...), and be unified in a new plan to defeat Chuck.

As for Dean? I don’t think his ending is going to be expected. He is changing--he won’t be making the same decisions he used to make in earlier seasons.

I also find it fascinating that they made 15.16 a flashback episode to their past as children. Not only did 15.16 show us Dean being annoyed by sex, ignoring a possible love interest (which we were right as an audience to assume it would be written that way, because it has been so many times before), and how he’s dealing with the prospect of Jack’s death (with all of the imagery of dead children), but it really brought to light how much Dean has changed.

The most obvious way they showed us this was through this scene with Caitlin (who looks eerily like a young Mary...interesting), who says this:

(gif credit)

Dean: Always am.

Caitlin: You have changed. The old you never would have admitted that.

Dean: Well, I’m not sure that’s a good thing.

Caitlin: I think so. What do they say about getting older? You tell the truth more because lies...they don’t make anything better. (15.16 Drag Me Away (From You))

Now, ignoring the fact that Dean has admitted this (in 1.03), we know that the only time he has admitted to being scared before was in relation to Mary. But I think what the writers were going for here was not only to highlight Dean’s recent character growth by admitting to Caitlin that he’s changed, but also the running theme of lying this season. I’ve said it before that Sam has been the only one telling the truth in s15, and I think it’ll eventually come into play during the final episodes. The truth/lies aspect will become a central plot point--I mean, it already is. But I think it’ll factor into how the show will end as a whole, especially with this episode and previous ones alluding to normalcy and the possibility of it for Sam.

I’m going to finish this here, because I’ve dragged on too long, but some other (destiel) things to note are:

Dean falling to his knees in the hallway as a parallel to falling on his knees in Purgatory, praying to Cas, apologizing.

Dean cutting off Baba Yaga’s fingers, whereas Cas restored a woman’s fingers in 15x15. The pastor telling Cas that people are god’s hands; they lift each other up with each finger. The implications of Dean cutting people off, and Cas bringing people together.

another amazing meta regarding 15.16 and another about dean changing + 15.16

#i have literally spent HOURS on this #im so sorry it's so long oh my god #supernatural meta #rambleoncas meta #spn 15x16 #spn spoilers #spn #supernatural #destiel #dean winchester #roc original #my post

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wing-ed-thing · 4 years

Text

Cabaret (Might Guy x Reader, Chapter VII)

Synopsis: You can't stand Might Guy. Honestly, how could anyone be so boisterously unaware and sickeningly positive? Your heart sinks as the both of you are teamed up to infiltrate and collect information from the Hidden Sound's gritty nightlife. Maybe losing yourselves in the dark of the underground will help you both come to an understanding.

Word Count: 1,737

Warnings: Alcohol, Foul Language

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIIIChapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI

Notes: Y’all it’s my man MIGHT GUY’s BIRTHDAY TODAY! Damn you know I gotta do some celebratory squats.

Guy woke up in the middle of the night to find himself still on your couch. The lights still lit up the room. Guy squinted at the glare of the side lamps. A weight weighed on his chest and after a few blinks, he realized that it was you. He craned his neck and gazed upon your softened features. The tension of your day had since vacated your face. Your hand bunched up in his shirt. Sparks of chakra pulsed from your hands with every breath you took. Guy watched your chest rise. A burst of chakra came when it fell.

He felt his energy being pulled from his network and swiftly replaced by fragile warmth. Every exhale felt like a slow heartbeat. From your fingertips came a puff of fiery spirit energy. It traveled up Guy’s chest, resolving itself in front of his nose.

Guy slowly pushed himself from the couch and weaved a finger through your balled up fist. Placing your hand in your lap, he maneuvered his forearm under your knees. He picked you up with ease. Guy unconsciously held his breath, careful not to wake you as he made his way to your bed. He placed you in the unmade nest of blankets, turning the nightstand lamp off as the covers enveloped you.

Guy made his exit swift, turning off all of your lights before allowing that partitioning door to softly close.

***

When you woke the next afternoon, you felt more rested than usual. Suspiciously so, but you hardly paid any mind. After all, you had a date.

You looked at the clock. It’s blinking neon slots showed 2:47pm. You groaned and stretched, silently cursing what hostessing did to your sleep schedule. The covers were thrown aside with laziness. You might as well get used to staying up and sleeping in late if this mission was going to last as long as you assumed it was going to.

You studied your wardrobe with disinterest before plucking out a few articles of clothing that you guessed that your date would like. You frowned at your reflection in the mirror as you considered that this would be the first time you went out of your way to dress for a man. The feeling lessened at the prospect of not having to wear an evening gown for a few hours of the work day, but it did not lessen by much.

Making your way to the subtle door, you gave it a light knock before letting yourself in. As you figured, Guy had been up for quite some time. You made your way over to the kitchen where he leaned over the sink. He donned workout gear. Guy gripped a water bottle in his hand as he panted. Red overtook his face. Small beads of sweat he wiped away with a small rag.

“I didn’t get a chance to brief you last night.” You told him as you leaned on the other side of the counter. “I should probably fill you in before I go.”

Guy took a breath and another swig of water.

“You’re not going.” He exhaled. You rolled your eyes.

“Guy, just let me brief you.”

“There’s no shame in taking something you can’t handle off of your plate.” Guy placed down his water bottle. Both hands gripped the counter firmly. You almost laughed. He was kidding, right?

“I can handle myself just fine. Just let me-”

“That’s not what I got from last night.” He looked into your eyes. You kept waiting for a signature Might Guy smile or for him to break and tell you that he was just joking, but it never came. You faltered, unsure of how to answer.

“Well fuck, I’m not going to confide in you just so you can throw it back in my face.” You snapped, more disappointment in your voice than you wanted. “Let me tell you what kind of information I got yesterday-”

“It’s not safe. I can’t spot you. I can’t make sure that you’re safe the whole time.” You crossed your arms, heat rising hotter and hotter to your ears.

“I don’t know why you won’t listen to me right now. Yesterday-”

“It doesn’t matter.” You blinked, a smile of disbelief fighting onto your lips.

“Guy, what the hell?” He came around the kitchen island. You recoiled at the hand that Guy tried to place on your clothed shoulder.

“There will be other opportunities. We don’t even know if this one will help us.” You slapped his hand away. A momentary shock rippled through the two of you.

“It’s not a big deal. I don’t understand why you’re making it a big deal.”

“If it’s not a big deal, then you don’t have to go.”

“What the fuck happened to ‘We are on a mission together’?” You stepped closer. “‘Whether you like it or not, that was Lady Tsunade’s call’? Or does that just apply when I’m the one throwing the fucking tantrum.” Guy stayed silent as you challenged him. You puffed your chest out, face in close proximity to his as you glared. “I’m the point of contact so I get to call the shots.”

He spoke your name with a sigh. But you were out of the room before another word fell out of his mouth.

***

Your date rented out a whole private room for your date which made you wonder just how much more the ninja of the Sound were paid. He had taken you to a relatively nice restaurant too: a traditional place where he spoiled you with half the menu. Surely you were sore about being bought as nothing but an expensive ornament, but you couldn’t muster up the rage to be angry at free food (at least for the moment).

It was at that chabudai where you learned that his name was Shou, a Jonin-level ninja.

“Wow, that must mean you’re pretty strong, then.” You sighed, gazing with wonder into his eyes. Chiasa taught you that one. Shou looked to the side with a bashfully prideful smile.

“Well, I mean yeah, kinda.” He feigned modesty. “I mean, I’m kinda gonna be a big deal.” Your date shoved a piece of teriyaki into his mouth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You crooned. “You gotta tell me everything! All this ninja stuff is so fascinating.” The ninja chuckled, diving into his rice.

“Top secret, missy, I can’t tell you everything.”

“Oh who’s a girl like me gonna tell?” You giggled, leaning with your elbows propping you against the table. The Sound ninja hesitated.

“Maybe later, beautiful.”

You frowned inwardly despite the coy expression plastered to your lips. You weren’t about to push it right now.

***

It became abundantly clear that perhaps Tsunade put you in the right position as a host girl after all. You stared at the empty glasses on the table, then back at your date. The Sound ninja roared with laughter, once again, in a private booth at the club. You laughed along with him, showering him with flattery as you fed him drink after drink.

“The three L’s,” You remembered Yuzuki telling you. The memory reeked of cigarettes. “Liquor Loosens Lips.”

You snuggled into your target’s side, his arm loosely around your shoulders. The rim of your glass met your lips. A gaze lingered on your skin. Your eyes narrowed and your attention immediately snapped towards the bar.

Guy stared your direction, a cup in his hand and cloth in the other. His leer raked across you and you nearly shuttered under the intensity. Guy put the clean glass with the other. You kept waiting for a look of reassurance or a subtle wink to remind you that he was there for you, but he tore himself from your connection. His diverted eyes hit you like a door slamming in your face. A pang of hurt erupted in your chest. You scoffed. Your date didn’t notice.

You grasped the bottle of scotch by the neck and refilled the ninja’s drink.

“So, Mr. “Big Deal”, how did you manage that?” You shifted in your seat, laying a hand on Shou’s chest.

“It’s not exactly legal, sweetheart.” You toyed with his robes as you pouted.

“Clients tell me these sorts of things all the time.” You glanced back to the bar. Guy was already looking your way. “I doubt that anything you could say could surprise me.”

Your hand came over his as you grasped his drink. Your breath hitched as you trained your focus on your kekkei genkai. You let a spark pass which transformed into a trickle of controlled energy. The scotch met your lips. The drunken Sound ninja studied you, tongue wetting his lips as your head came to rest on his shoulder.

“I don’t know much about it,” He began, persuaded by nothing but your touch, “But some opportunities have come up among the ninja. Some serious cash is involved I know that.”

“How cryptic of you.” You glanced down, then back up. “Cash for what?”

“Information of course.” The ninja tapped his drink and you reached for the bottle, but someone grasped it before you did.

“Having a good time, Shou?” The unfamiliar ninja in front of you mused, reading the label on the side. Your date lifted his cup with a silent nod. Wasted. You focused on the chakra flow, making the information exchange as small and undetectable as possible.

A group of them stood in front of you. Two went around to help their comrade from his seat next to you. They tipped handsomely. You recognized them from your first night of work. The rest of the group patted Shou on his back and rustled his hair, helping him as he floundered to the back room. A woman trailed behind the main group. From your recollection, she usually stayed behind. You watched as they went, disappearing behind the curtained doors to the left of the bar.

You frowned at the table. They took the bottle of scotch with them. You began to neatly gather the empty liquor glasses onto the tray, but were interrupted once more. The unsettling feeling of a man standing to close sent a shiver down your spine.

“Excuse me, Yakushi-san. Let me clear this booth and I’ll be right with you.” You attempted a pleasant exterior. The uneasy presence lingered closely behind you. A hand made its way to your waist.

“Of course.”

Thank you to everyone who liked, reblogged, and followed. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

#might guy #might guy x reader #might guy relationship #Maito Gai #maito gai x reader #maito guy #Maito guy relationship #gai sensei #guy sensei #naruto #naruto x reader #x reader #x you #naruto x y/n #naruto x you #naruto imagines #naruto imagine #naruto headcanon #naruto headcanons

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liannyeong · 4 years

Text

Things just work out (in the end)

Summary: Two close friends who decided to marry each other if they’re still single at the age of 30. What can happen, right?

Word count: 3181

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): Fluff, Just a pinch of angst

A/N: Yay a new fic! And finally, I have gotten used to spelling Jaebeom’s name correctly. This idea is totally cliche lol but well, I just had to write it when ideas started popping in my head. Originally, I had other plans for this plot but I decided to condense it into just a short fic lol. I actually aimed for a 2k word count but well, I always end up writing more whoops ~

Long-time friends, that's what they really are, Not the best of friends but they're close enough to lean on each other and share about their problems. For example, failed relationships. None of their relationships ever last a year. Their friends wonder why, but not even they know the answer to the problem. In the end, they're labelled as the curse in any romantic relationship.

"You know," Jaebeom starts, after a night out with their mutual friends. He had just dropped off their friends who lived along the way, and is now left with her as always. They live the closest to each other anyway. "I'd say we should make a deal."

"A deal?" she echoes.

"Yeah. Let's get married if we're both single by the age of 30."

She snorts. "That's 5 years from now!"

Jaebeom shrugs. "Anything can happen in 5 years."

She keeps quiet, thinking it over before she speaks. "And if we're still single?"

"We marry," Jaebeom says so offhandedly, as if it's nothing serious.

She has a brow raised. "Just like that?"

"Yeah, why not?" Jaebeom retorts. "Nobody seems to want us. And even if they do, it never last more than a year. So why not we skip the basics and get married?"

She bursts out laughing. "You're mad," she says disapprovingly.

"Well, just think about it," Jaebeom insists. "I don't think we've got anything to lose. After all, how bad can it be if there are two 'cursed ones' in a relationship?"

---

ii.

Surprisingly, she agrees. In the year they both turn 30, they hold a small wedding. Then, she moves into Jaebeom's apartment because it is larger. As the months go on, nothing seems to change -- only that Jaebeom has become more gentlemanly towards her. Perhaps being married to someone, having another person to take care of has made him kinder, she doesn't really know. What she knows is that she doesn't hate it. It actually feels nice to have someone to be with at the end of the day. Jaebeom has been a spectacular husband: he listens to her rants about anything, helps her cook dinner. It has been really great.

But sometimes, she can't tell the difference between Jaebeom being chivalrous or... well... having feelings for her? It sounds as if she's too full of herself to think about it, but how can she not when he does things that are questionable?

For example, in one breezy day, Jaebeom took off his jacket just to tie it around her waist when she was wearing a dress that touched just above her knee.

"In case there are any perverts lurking around," he had said dismissively.

Or the few times when he noticed her shivering from the coldness of the air. Be it the air-conditioner of their car or the chilly air anywhere else, Jaebeom would drape his jacket over her body silently, and focus back on whatever he was doing.

Or that one time when they were stranded in the rain with no umbrella. The man threw his precious leather jacket over their heads, then pulled her by the waist with one hand as he led them across the street.

It doesn't seem anything, really. But that last incident is the last straw. Jaebeom has never held her without her permission. He has always made sure not to do anything physical to her, if she doesn't consent to it. The other part of her mind argues that it was just a one-time thing. She can't really comment much on it, can she?

The easiest way to figure this out is to ask him directly. But god, wouldn't it make her look like fool? Imagine Jaebeom saying that "No, I don't have feelings for you. What made you even think that?" Or "We married because of our promise, nothing else." Ugh, this seems like an unnecessary stress on her mind.

One thing's for sure though: even if Jaebeom doesn't harbour any feelings for her, the things he do certainly has an effect on her... She wonders what kind of feeling this is...

---

iii.

Jaebeom is an aspiring singer-songwriter. He has put his works out there to the world through his Soundcloud, which landed him a stable job at a local music company. She knows he's well-known in the music industry -- he's always got big projects to do, producing songs for popular idol groups out there. It's fascinating. Having known him for years, seeing him slowly gaining the recognition he deserves makes her happy.

But with bigger projects to tackle, that means longer working hours. And he will certainly bring his work home. It's frequent that Yugyeom, Jaebeom's partner, comes over to their shared apartment to continue with their projects. Usually, she would hear the same damn beat played a million times across the house. Today, it's more quiet. Perhaps, they're sourcing for inspiration? she wonders to herself. Well, it's not as if she minds the quiet ambience.

She heads to Jaebeom's room-slash-studio to call him for dinner but as she raises her hand to knock, she hears Yugyeom saying, "Hyung, you should tell her you like her--"

She freezes.

"Shut the hell up, Yugyeom. These walls are thin!" Jaebeom hisses.

"But hyung--"

"Drop it, Gyeom-ah. We're not talking about this now," Jaebeom cuts.

Her mind reeling. Jaebeom has someone he likes...? What...?

She totally misses out the footsteps on the other side, until the door swings open suddenly. She jolts in surprise, her hand still raised up.

Jaebeom is looking at her, wide-eyed, as if caught doing a heinous act.

"How long have you been standing here?" he asks after clearing his throat and his face from any expression.

"Just. I was about to knock your door but you opened it," she lies smoothly. "Dinner's ready."

"Great! I'm hungry!" Yugyeom exclaims as he jumps out of his seat and brushes past the two of them like an excited puppy. He heads to the kitchen by himself, leaving the married couple in the hallway.

Jaebeom's voice is soft and cautious as he asks, "Did you hear anything?"

She blinks up at him, trying her best to put on a blank expression. "No? Was I supposed to hear something?"

Jaebeom actually flushes. "N-no. It's great you didn't hear anything," he mumbles.

She nods, eyeing the man. "Let's eat."

---

iv.

Jaebeom always lets her listen to his finished work before its official release to the public. One particular song is about wanting to get closer to another, but they can't because of certain circumstances. Another is about loving a person from afar. It bears a resemblance to Jaebeom's situation, if her thoughts are correct. And her curiosity only gets bigger.

"Your songs... It sounds real," she tries to start the topic in mind. "Do you... possibly... have feelings for someone?"

Jaebeom swivels his chair to look at her in surprise. He looks caught.

She lets out a gasp. She sputters, "You-- Wait, who is she-- Oh, wait, no--" She halts herself when her mind clicks. "Why did you agree to this marriage thing if you have someone you like?! Oh god-- What have I done??" she panics.

"Hey, relax," Jaebeom's calm voice cuts her panic. "It's nothing, don't worry."

"Don't worry?!" she repeats in anger. "How can I not worry?! You're-- Oh god, you could have been with the person you like right now, if not for this--" she gestures the space between them, "thing between us!" She buries her face into her hands, mumbling to herself, "What have I done..."

Jaebeom crouches before her, hands closing around her wrists delicately to pull them away from her face. He brushes her cheek with a knuckle, smiling softly. "It's fine, really. It's no big deal."

"How are you so calm about this?"

"It's because I don't regret anything."

"You don't regret anything?" she echoes his words. "Not even this marriage agreement between us?"

Jaebeom's smile falls just a little. There's a certain warmth in his gaze, a gentle expression on his face. It's one that she has never seen before. Well, not directed to her at the very least. "I don't."

"Why?"

"Because," he starts slowly, "you have been a great partner so far. I don't have any complaints about you."

She frowns, feeling that something is amiss. "There's something you're not telling me."

Jaebeom blinks. Then his shoulders slump. He settles on the floor, sitting cross-legged in front of her.

"You're right. There is something I haven't told you," he admits. He lets out a sigh. "But how can I, when I might risk losing everything I have?"

"What's going on--"

Jaebeom looks at her dead in the eye.

"I like you," he confesses.

She draws a deep breath.

"I don't know when it began. But after the wedding, after a few months into this marriage arrangement, I guess I developed a soft spot for you. Which gradually became real feelings. Perhaps the feelings have always been there, I don't know, but I only realized it through this marriage."

"I--" she gapes her mouth like a fish. "I thought you-- I thought you like someone else!"

Jaebeom shakes his head. "I don't. I like you."

She gasps.

"I--" Jaebeom reaches forward but she immediately rises, backing away. The man looks hurt but she can't wrap her mind around this new revelation.

"I'm sorry I need time to process this," she says hastily before striding out of his room.

---

Jaebeom seems to understand her position, so he minimizes any interaction or encounter between them. After all, she's still a little confused. It's not easy to accept the fact that Jaebeom has fallen for her when all they've ever been was close friends. Sure, she may have liked the chivalrous way Jaebeom treated her, but she doesn't think it's any indicator that she may harbour the same feelings toward her.

Anyway, Jaebeom doesn't been home for days. She doesn't even know how he's been. Is he eating alright? Is he stressed? Is he okay? She knows it's her fault -- it was her reaction to his confession that made them like this. Still, she can't help the uneasiness in her heart when Jaebeom disappears for days.

So when the man comes home in the wee hours of the night, she feels her heart pound. He looks so tired, so ragged, like a homeless person. He looks like his life got sucked out of his body.

"Jaebeom--" she calls softly.

He slowly turns, his eyes are heavy, dark circles and eye bags underneath. "Did I wake you? Sorry about that... Well, good night." He drags himself into his room and the door clicks shut.

She stands alone in the doorway of her own room. He looks horrible... She wonders if she could cheer him up. She realizes she actually misses his company. The way he would always be there for her at the end of a long day. The way he would listen to her attentively as she rants her heart out. When has she ever done the same for him? She reckons she has never.

With new determination, she pads over to his room silently, then sneaks in. Jaebeom is already fast asleep, not having changed out of his clothes. He's sprawled out on the bed, and she slowly makes her way to him. The bed dips under her weight, then she rests her head on his arm, snuggling close to him.

"Wha--?" he mumbles groggily, looking over at her.

She only shushes him, curling an arm around his waist as she joins him to sleep.

---

vi.

When she wakes, Jaebeom is still passed out. But his body is turned towards her, his breathing soft and slow. She's still got her head pillowed on his arm. Her eyes wander his face, from the two brows to the twin moles above his left eye, down to the two closed slits and to his round nose, until--

His lips, crafted perfectly like a cupid's bow. The soft pinkish color. She wonders what it feels like to kiss him.

Wait.

What?

K-kiss Jaebeom?

She jolts up, suddenly very awake. She glances back at Jaebeom and her eyes automatically lands on his lips again. Her heart pounds in her ears. Oh my god.

She stomps out, into the safe haven of her own room, her heart beating fast.

No way.

Does she actually like Jaebeom???

---

vii.

Things are still awkward between the two of them. She doesn't mention about the night she slept over at his room. Neither did Jaebeom. It's probably best to leave it for now. She wouldn't know how to face him when she's been having weird feelings since then.

Speaking of which, her mind is plagued with thoughts of Jaebeom and her newfound feelings. She has been trying to rationalize her emotions, but now, she wonders if she's in denial.

What's so bad about liking Jaebeom, anyway? she ponders. He has been a great husband. Hell, she hasn't felt this comfortable with any man before! Comparing to all the boys she has ever dated, she must admit that Jaebeom is the best among them. But wait, Jaebeom and her are not considered as dating, right? If Jaebeom is already this good, what more a real dating relationship? Or even better, a real marriage?

She blushes furiously, raising a hand to cover her face. At the same time, she accidentally knocks over a hot pot, letting out a yelp of pain. The first thing her body does is to put her hand under the running tap water. As she lets the burn cool, she looks over at the kitchen floor. The contents of the pot have spilled all over the tiled floor. She sighs. She shouldn't be this distracted while cooking.

The man who plagued her thoughts emerges from his room haphazardly, his face painted with worry. He glances over the floor before going back to her, especially on her hand.

"I'll grab the first aid kit," Jaebeom says. He comes back, calling her over with a hand held out for her to grab. He then leads her to the couch in the living room, sitting her down and opening the kit. He takes the seat next to her, their knees knocking.

Jaebeom helps to apply a burn cream onto her hand. She will never admit this, but his touch is more scalding than the heat of the pot. She flushes.

"What happened?" he asks gently as he rolls a bandage around her hand.

"I just--" She makes the mistake of looking up. She realizes how close they are. Jaebeom's face is just a few inches away. She can hear his soft breathing. She can even count his lashes. Embarrassed, she averts her eyes, mumbling, "I got distracted, that's all."

"You should be more careful," Jaebeom says, closing the kit and putting it away afterwards. "Just rest, okay? I'll clean the kitchen. We can just order in today."

She nods. Jaebeom heads to the kitchen and starts to clear the spill on the floor. She watches as he picks the soggy vegetables and dispose it into the bin. She slumps in her seat. All she wanted was to cook a simple soup for dinner. Now, Jaebeom who is busy has to clean the mess she made. She feels sorry.

So she turns on her phone and places an order on Jaebeom's favorite from his favorite restaurant.

---

viii.

After coming to terms with her own self, she decides that it's time for them to settle this awkwardness between them.

She knocks onto Jaebeom's door and the man lets her in. He looks a little worried, a little uncertain about what's happening.

"It's about us," she begins once she settled comfortably on his bed.

"Oh," he lets out.

"Look, I-- Um--" she stutters. She breathes out then starts again, "When you confessed to me, I just... I didn't know what to make sense of it. So I'm sorry with how I behaved afterwards. I just didn't know how to deal with it."

"It's fine, I understand," Jaebeom says softly.

"But I just can't stop thinking about it," she adds.

Jaebeom leans forward now, quick to assure her. "Hey, look... If you're uncomfortable living with me, I can move out. We can just sign the divorce papers. It's not a big deal."

She shakes her head. "It is a big deal--! I just--"

The man smiles weakly. "You don't have to force yourself to live with me. I'm not hurt if you don't return my feelings. I understand really. I have made you uncomfortable--"

"No, Jaebeom!!" she nearly shrieks. "What I mean to say is-- I think I-- I think I like you too..." Heat rises in her cheeks and she knows without doubt that her face is as red as a tomato.

Jaebeom stares blankly at her, stupefied.

"I've been thinking a lot about it," she continues. "Back then, I thought... It isn't a bad idea to marry you. But now..." Embarrassed, she's staring at her lap, afraid to look at Jaebeom's face. "I want you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you," she confesses.

Jaebeom moves forward, kneeling on the floor, a hand gently cupping her left cheek.

"Do you really mean that?"

She nods, blushing.

Jaebeom smiles, his eyes forming crescents. "Spending my life with you, I'd love that."

She looks at him, face gleaming with happiness. Her eyes accidentally look down to his lips and she turns redder. She looks away quickly, abashed.

Jaebeom must have noticed this as he follows her face, peering at her. His hand is still pressed against her cheek. "Can I kiss you?" he asks softly.

She gulps. What does it feel like? her mind wonders. She tilts her chin up, a silent agreement. She watches as Jaebeom moves closer and shuts her eyes when he's just a breath away. Their lips gently brush against each other, and it already feels otherworldly. The moment their lips connect... God, it feels so good. She feels how plump and soft his lips are. And god, the way he rolls his lips against hers... It's electric.

She swears that is the best kiss she has ever had. Reluctantly, they pull apart for air, both their chests heaving. Jaebeom doesn't move away though, he presses their foreheads together. Her eyes feel heavy as she opens them. Jaebeom is already staring back, as if he couldn't believe that they kissed.

"Is this real?" he whispers.

"Yes, it is," she answers before lunging forward. Jaebeom topples backwards, his head hitting the floor with a thud. She worries, but the man laughs it off, giddy with happiness, so she can't help but smile along. She leans down, pressing a quick kiss onto his lips. Jaebeom stares up at her fondly, tucking her hair behind her ear. That hand cups her neck, and he directs her for another kiss. His other arm tightens around her waist, pinning her close. They kiss like teenagers, when chemicals are high.

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