#shout out to the costume department for messing up the sides between scenes

[callmeahopelesscase]

Mon's earrings appreciation post 💕 2

yes, it's all the same pair. yes, I'm obsessed with them.

(the first one)

#shout out to the costume department for messing up the sides between scenes #it gives a better look at this set which I'm considering a win #i want these so bad #gap the series

[miyacchis]

Notes from a Con Man - Musical Great Pretender Stage Report Act 1

This is a bit extremely rambly, but I want to give some description of the distinguishing features of the staged version of Great Pretender as compared to the anime, although my plan is not to give a complete recap of the plot, as I’m sure anyone who is choosing to read this has watched the anime - or so I assume, but you know you do you. I try to control myself and keep it just to what is relevant, but I’m also a wordy bitch and that will never change, so, reader beware, I guess.

 The stage is set up with three levels (the stage level, the second floor, and the third floor where the band is). Both the stage level and second floor have a couple of rooms that can be pulled out or opened, and backgrounds are projected onto the set to create different settings. With the exception of the opening theme, which is taken from the anime, all of the music is live, and there’s very good interplay between the band and the performers, and I don’t know if I’d ever been to another show that felt so vibrant/alive/idk?

First, the biggest change made for the sake of clear storytelling on the stage is the addition of a framing device: the plot is conveyed to the audience through Edamura’s (Miyata Toshiya) narration as he tells his story to a prosecutor after the events of LA Connection. The play opens where LA Connection ends with Edamura being questioned at a police station, where it’s clear that he has been attempting for hours to convince detectives to believe the team-confidence-wild-and-wacky-adventures ™  explanation as to how he came to be in possession of a bag stuffed with foreign currency. Detectives are fed up with him and ready to go berniewiththesteelchair.jpeg on his ass. Enter Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), an elite prosecutor who seems to be on track to become attorney general, although it is unclear to those at the police station why he would take interest in Edamura’s case. 

Edamura is initially reluctant to open up to Kitaoji (Kato Ryo), certain that he won’t be believed, but after Kitaoji quotes from Shakunetsu (side note: I had no idea that in English Shakunetsu was turned into Die Hot which is an absolutely incredible pun and I really commend the translator), Edamura thinks Kitaoji might be just the person to believe him and help him to make amends to all those he had harmed through his life of fraud. Kitaoji encourages Edamura to start at the beginning and goes to eat a piece of candy, prompting Edamura to question, “What would you do if this simple piece of candy was sold for $5 million?” at which point he begins telling his story, transporting us first to a club in Hollywood where we are introduced to the plot with Sakura Magic and, more importantly, Laurent (Miya Rurika, goddess, dressed devastatingly in green), who is identified in quick succession as a French trader, an arrogant Don Juan, and the “bastard who got me into this mess.” 

Edamura bumbles through Laurent’s plot to build hype and clinch a deal with Cassano (Otani Ryosuke) by having Abby (Yamamoto Chihiro) “test” the “drug,” while giving small asides to Kitaoji to explain the main players and reveal to him that this is all a con job, but when Edamura is called to sign the contract to supply Cassano with the drug for $5 million, he flips out, pulls Salazar’s (Mikami Ichiro) gun, and flees the club, without the excuse of believing that he had taken drugs as he did in the anime. It is also not at this point that Edamura makes the connection between Laurent and Kudo and realizes that he’s been set up (Miyata!Edamura is overall a bit less perceptive than Kobayashi!Edamura, as we shall see, although I think this was a function of simplifying aspects of the characters’ interactions for the sake of clarity for the stage). 

Kitaoji pops in and out of the story from this point, donning different costumes (an unhoused person, Toyotomi Hideyoshi, Razzie from the Shakunetsu series, etc.) to illustrate different aspects of the main characters’ conversations, and he serves as a way to get into Edamame’s head, allowing him to express what he is thinking and feeling as events in the story play out. It is in the metanarrative that we get some of these more comedic scenes, as well as additional insight into Edamura’s character as he grapples with his own identity as a scam artist and the son of a child trafficker.

After escaping Cassano’s henchmen outside the club, Edamura rejoins Kitaoji to ask if he’s following the story so far, which of course he is not (lol), so Edamura dives into how he met Laurent and came to be in LA. From here we flashback three days, joining Edamura and Kudo (Fukumoto Shinichi) in Asakusa as they spy Laurent as a potential mark. Edamura pulls the wallet-switch trick, and this scene generally follows the anime, although parts, such as the scenes showing Edamura selling water filters and Edamura and Kudo being raided by what seems to be the police, have been cut. After realizing that Laurent pickpocketed him and saw through his grift, Edamura quickly follows and catches him as he is about to depart in a cab to the airport. Just a moment to talk about this cab because it was such a cute, clever idea; it was really just a little push car driven by one of the supporting cast, and it can be disconnected in the middle, so as the driver pulls off, the back seat can be left behind, allowing the audience to watch Laurent and Edamura’s conversation as they are taken to the airport. 

Similarly to the anime, the successive scenes are nominally delivered in English, so Edamura switches to a dialect of Japanese to represent his accented English, which I mention only because Miyata discussed Edamura’s code switching with Kobayashi (Edamura’s Japanese voice actor) in an interview in vol. 51 of Stage Square and how he was concerned that he might confuse Standard Japanese and the dialect during scenes where he has to go back and forth quickly. Kobayashi reassured him that as he got into the character of Edamura Miyata would naturally fall into dialect whenever speaking to Laurent and Abby, and I’m very biased, buuuttttt throughout the run of the show, Miyata performed this beautifully, and as someone who for several years lived in the Tohoku region, the dialect of which Edamura’s accent reminded me of, his accent made me really nostalgic. 

Anywayyyyyy

After Laurent and Edamura bet on the outcome of Laurent’s upcoming “business negotiations” and it’s agreed that they will travel to LA together, the opening theme plays, the main cast is introduced, with Edamura running up and down the set to give a sense of action, the title in massive letters is lowered onto the stage, and we rejoin the main plot with Edamura trying to elude Cassano’s gang on the streets of LA by hiding behind the title. The supporting cast gives us some great background color as like random people in LA, like we’ve got some girls with Starbucks cups, some people breakdancing while simultaneously mugging a Dodgers fan, a skateboarder shouting “STREET”...for some reason. Perfect encapsulation of America *chef’s kiss*

Laurent finds Edamura and tells him to come home because he’s a good boy (😳), and Edamura is then introduced to Abby who, just as in the anime, kicks and knocks him out, after which they collect him and take him to an upscale hotel where Cynthia/Paula Dickens (Senna Ayase) is performing as a jazz singer. Laurent greets her briefly, but we don’t properly get introduced to her character until a later, very frustrating scene, but I’m not going to get started on that yet (it’s not her that’s frustrating, but it’s how they chose to have her and Edamura meet, but anyway we’ll get there). She sings “Summertime,” and it’s a lovely performance; all of her acting choices are very clearly informed by her experience in Takarazuka - she has these really dynamic, almost over-the-top movements and she uses that to her advantage to be one of the more comedic actors - and it’s really entertaining to watch.

Laurent orders them drinks; Edamura has something pink in a little martini glass, and he splutters when he tries to take a sip because he can’t handle his alcohol, which makes Laurent laugh, giving a lot of credence to Laurent’s statement soon after that he derives a lot of pleasure out of toying with naive boys like Edamura who pretend to be tougher than they really are. There’s also some funny adlib with Abby at this point where she gets brought different plates of food like fake fruit on one day and a tower of donuts on another. Laurent explains who Cassano is and the plan to defraud him and gives Edamura a notebook with a fabricated recipe for Sakura Magic, so the notebook is not part of what Edamura prepares himself when he goes later to get himself captured by Cassano to negotiate with him. Edamura has a couple of outbursts accusing Laurent and Abby of putting on airs, pretending to be carrying out justice, repeatedly interrupting the band who give him dirty looks and Shi-won, dressed as one of the saxophonists, loudly blows the saxophone back at him, and this prompts Laurent to be like nah we’re getting too much attention here let’s continue this back at the hotel. 

The hotel scene is fairly similar to the anime, but once Edamura is left alone, we get the first instance of him thinking about his family as he reflect on what Laurent had to say about how people don’t always believe the truth that is in front of them as they would rather believe whatever is most convenient. He flashes back to his family going home together after his father finished a case (the hotel room is on the second floor with his mom and dad entering on the stage level; the younger version of Edamura is done in voice over), and of course they seem like a happy family, although it’s interesting that what his dad has to say about ethics was cut from the script. The scene focuses more on Edamura idolizing his father as a great lawyer.

Okay, so we’ve finally come to the scene I absolutely hated and did not think was necessary, after Edamura leaves the hotel room. He is approached by three unhoused persons, one of whom he at first thinks is Kitaoji coming to interrupt the narrative again, but he soon realizes that they are “real homeless.” It was really just a disgusting, cruel stereotype; one of them is playing with a rat they found, another is acting like a junkie, and the ringleader is trying to get money off of him because they haven’t eaten in three days and then they steal his little Toyotomi Hideyoshi figurine and play keepaway with it and don’t stop until Cynthia/Paula Dickens (at this point she’s Paula tho so I’m going to refer to her that way) enters and is like knock it off. So that’s how they meet. Cool. They could easily have come up with something else and they just didn’t.

But, anyway, since he got his figurine back, he explains to Paula that his hobby is collecting capsule toys, and during his explanation, a gacha machine is projected up on the stage, out of which comes Kitaoji dressed as Toyotomi, followed by a bunch of other figures from Japanese history. This part always got a pretty good laugh out of the audience, and I think it was a pretty cute way to stage it. Paula insists they go to dinner together, so she can hear more about Toyotomi, and the capsule toy figurines all follow to a diner (serving “breadfast” 24hrs lol) where Shi-won is dressed as someone named Ricardo. The figurines all start to get drunk, while “Ricardo” fixes Edamura and Paula some tacos; meanwhile Edamura explains that Toyotomi began as a simple peasant, but because of his hard work and study, he was able to climb all the way to the top and unite all of Japan as a powerful lord. 

Edamura asks why she decided to help him before and he despairs that he must seem like a beaten dog, but she explains that while she might seem confident, she faces tremendous anxiety getting on stage every day, particularly as she wants to make it big as a performer but can’t expect to get the attention of a label just because she can sing a bit. (In the background, Francis Xavier is completely sloshed and ends up drinking with Ricardo) Edamura suggests that she take inspiration from Toyotomi as someone who was able to trick even his enemies into working with him and represent herself as someone more important than she is to get music producers onto her side. She seems fired up by this proposal, and she says that she’ll follow the example of Toyotomi, “Japan’s best confidence man,” which gives Edamura his own motivation to get back to trying to win the bet with Laurent. He asks Paula to wish him good luck and runs off, and we get the first dance scene with Edamura and a number of samurai as he builds up to confronting Cassano. The scene ends with him running into a video shop, presumably to rent Cassano’s movies.

Laurent and Abby are called to Cassano’s mansion - they argue if Edamura is capable of pulling off a job like this, although Laurent insists that he has a natural talent - but they are certain that he must be dead when they hear from Salazar that Edamura was taken into their custody at the airport trying to run. However, Edamura bursts onto the scene, dressed in a new Hawaiian shirt, and at this point, Miyata looks as though he has been in a swimming pool, but it’s just sweat lmao. Cassano informs them that he’s made a new deal with Edamura for $10 million, and when they ask how, we get a flashback showing how he got onto Cassano’s good side by praising Shakunetsu with Kitaoji, as Razzie, acting out scenes from the Shakunetsu movies on the second floor of the stage. Whenever Cassano hugs Edamura in these scenes, it was really funny because his jacket would get just absolutely covered in Miyata’s sweat just ugh gross lol 

Cassano’s accountant joins them and they play out the whole bit about confirming Edamura’s credentials as a pharmaceutical scientist, at which point Edamura finally realizes that Kudo is working with Laurent, when he calls Kudo to thank him for deceiving Cassano’s attorneys. After Cassano has confirmed Edamura’s identity, he takes the crew to his factory and insists that Edamura make Sakura Magic for them right there and then so that they can be sure to properly replicate his recipe. She does this the whole play, but particularly during this scene, you can really see how well Miya Rurika portrays Laurent as always calm and and in control before Edamura but as quietly losing his shit whenever he feels like they’ve been backed into a corner, and we also get some very cute like Laurent clearly being exasperated with Edamura but the two of them starting to be able to play off one another as they convince Cassano that the factory isn’t up to snuff for making Sakura Magic. 

They have to clear out because they hear someone coming, but Cassano promises that he will build a new laboratory for Edamura and entrusts his care to Salazar. The police bust in after everyone has left; Anderson does the absolute most to show off to everyone that he’s properly securing the scene, but he’s clearly relieved that Cassano slipped through their fingers once again oh my how does this keep happening oh well better luck next time. We get a proper introduction to Paula and Shi-won as members of the FBI who have come to investigate Laurent and his organization (Paula has changed into this beautifully tailored brown tweed pantsuit and she pulls it off so well), and Paula threatens to expose Anderson’s connections to Cassano if he doesn’t follow her lead.

After the scene in the factory, we return to the present in the interrogation room with Kitaoji and Edamura. Detectives bring Kitaoji additional files on Edamura, asking if the prosecutor has heard of the attorney Ozaki. They inform him that Edamura is Ozaki’s son, and Kitaoji is a bit shocked; he leaves, saying that he will review the files. The detectives collect the money before exiting the room, but not without getting in a dig at Edamura, telling him that he clearly takes after his father. Edamura is stricken by this statement, and the act ends with Edamura battling with this internal conflict. 

I don’t think anyone would want to read all of this, but if you have, thank you so much. I hope some of it at least was interesting or informative. I’m going to end there for now, as I’ve already gone on for too long, and I’ll finish writing up the second act in another post.

#it's too long i'm sorry lmao #i have not edited this so sorry as well if there are mistakes #great pretender

[artificialqueens]

If you care to find me (Jan/Jackie) - Rune

Hello! I’m a first time submitter, long time fan. Y’all can call me Rune. I desperately wanted to write for Jan and Jackie because they’re two of my faves from this season, and thus a college-lesbian-AU was born. Comments and concrit are always welcome and I’m open to requests either here or on my blog at @runic-riptide Hope y’all enjoy!

The party was in full swing by the time Jackie arrived. She could see a few other people from the theatre department, but overall she didn’t recognize many of the people crowded into the sorority house. The Kappa Lambda Mu sorority was all fashion majors and a few of them had made the costumes for the theatre department’s performance of Wicked. That led into the current raging after party for the closing night of the show.

Jackie thought it had gone really well, they’d gotten a standing ovation at the end and thankfully none of the sound equipment had fucked up during the show. As the main sound tech, that had been her biggest worry for weeks. But now it was over and she could enjoy the party.

“Jackieeeeee!” a heavily accented voice called over the music. Jackie was blindsided by a mess of giggling French girl, as Nicky plowed into her side, the Red solo cup in her hand splashing something that smelled overwhelmingly of coconut rum onto the carpet. “You made it!”

Jackie reached out to steady Nicky; how was she still standing in those heels? “Yeah, I couldn’t miss it!”

“Come, we’ll get you a drink! Crystal is mixing and everything tastes wonderful!” Nicky shouted over the din. She took Jackie by the wrist and began leading her through the throng of people towards the kitchen. Jackie waved at Gigi and Heidi, both girls camped out by the snack table that was set up in the living room as she was pulled.

The kitchen had less people but not by much. There was a small cluster of people crowded around the makeshift bar on the island and Crystal was standing on the backside shaking a tumbler full of what looked like UV Blue and edible glitter.

“Miss Methyd! We have a theatre nerd in need of a drink! S’il vous plait!” Nicky hollered. Crystal nodded and dumped the blue mixture into another red Solo cup, handing this one off to an already tipsy looking Brita.

Crystal grinned at Jackie, her makeup already smudged a bit, “What can I getcha, Miss Cox?”

“Um, something fruity? With not too much alcohol?” Jackie replied. She could handle her liquor, but preferred staying sober in large groups. “Thanks!”

“Coming right up!” Crystal smiled and began pouring lemon vodka and Sprite into a fresh tumbler. She shook it lightly and poured the mix into a cup before adding a dash of Apple Pucker and a lime wedge. “Here you go! It’s a Sour Clown! A Crystal Methyd original.”

Jackie thanked her again and took a small sip. It didn’t have much of an alcohol taste and she was grateful.

“Come on, Miss Cox! Let’s go find your people!” Nicky said as she finished pouring more coconut rum into her cup. She took the wrist not supporting a cup and Jackie was pulled back into the main party.

Gigi and Heidi were still by the snacks, Brita was attempting to twerk on the makeshift dance floor, and Aiden and Jaida were standing nearby, badly hiding matching grins behind their own cups. Jackie scanned the crowded room and had to stifle a brief flash of disappointment, as the girl she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the throng of bodies.

Nicky pulled her down onto the cushy couch pushed against the far wall and promptly stretched out, kicking off her heels and laying stockinged feet in Jackie’s lap. Jackie grinned at the younger girl, only Nicky could be so comfortable with someone she’d barely known two months.

“So, tell me Miss Cox, Miss Cox if you’re nasty, tell me…what is up with you and the cheerleader.” Nicky grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Jackie could feel heat creep up her neck and hoped the lights were dim enough to hide the blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she mumbled into her cup.

“Ne ment jamais a une fille francaise, mon petite. It’s unbecoming.”

“Nicky, you know I don’t speak French.” Jackie groaned. Apparently, they really were having this conversation.

“Never lie to a French girl. We can smell bullshit from a kilometer away.” Nicky translated, grinning smugly.

“There’s nothing between me and-and Jan. Nothing.” Jackie argued, plucking at the runs in Nicky’s tights.

“Please, Jackie, I have known you for what? Two months? Two and a half? It is painfully obvious that you like the cheerleader.” Nicky retorted, taking another sip. “Remember? You slipped and cut the music during the first dress rehearsal when she came out as Elphaba? Everyone turned to look and you turned as red as the skirt you were wearing that day.”

“You remember what skirt I was wearing?” Jackie giggled.

“Of course! Dear Gigi made it for you, said your others were…? Ah, de matrone? Motherly? Matronly!” Nicky yelled, finally finding the right word.

“My other skirts are not matronly! Gigi just likes short skirts.” Jackie argued, slightly offended.

“Yes, they are, dear. Every other skirt you own looks like you got them at a librarian’s estate sale.” Gigi chimed in, taking the seat next to Jackie and tickling the bottom of Nicky’s foot. Nicky shrieked and kicked, nearly upending Jackie’s drink all over her.

“Arrete ca! Devil child! The audacity of you!” Nicky cried, scrambling to sit up straight.

“So what’s the tea? What’s the dish?” Gigi said, ignoring Nicky’s remarks.

“Jackie is refusing to acknowledge that something’s up with her and the cheerleader. You know, the one. Elphaba?” Nicky replied, outrage at Gigi forgotten in favor of gossip.

“Ahhhh, yes. Jan, Miss Jan Sport. Theatre major extraordinaire and cheerleader 24/7.” Gigi grinned at Jackie. “There is definitely something up.”

“There is nothing! I swear!” Jackie complained. She grabbed Nicky’s cup from her. “I am not nearly drunk enough to be talking about this.”

Jackie took a large gulp and tried not to cough as the rum burned down her throat. She really did not want to talk about this. She’d done four productions with Jan and every time Jan was the only one she’d noticed during the shows. She was… captivating. Her vocals were astounding, nearly the entire department was jealous of her ability to belt high notes like they were nothing. And during the dry runs, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, brown eyes lit up with love for her craft. Her passion was enthralling and Jackie fell a little bit more in love with her every performance. Not that she’d ever tell Jan any of this, being a behind the scenes kind of girl. The only interactions they’d had were when Jackie needed to set up her mic. But the brilliant smile she got from Jan was worth the limited moments she got to spend with the other girl.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Jackie.” Gigi snorted. “You look at her like she hung the moon and it’s obvious to everyone but Jan, apparently.”

“Good, I’d prefer if it stayed that way. She barely knows I exist anyway. I’m just a sound tech, as long as she sounds good, that’s all she needs to know about me.” Jackie replied.

“And you’re just as oblivious, dear.” Nicki continued as if Jackie hadn’t spoken. “We all see the way she looks at you as well.”

“Looks at me? Jan doesn’t look at me. I think you’ve spent one too many nights staring too hard at your sewing machine, Nicky. You must be going blind.”

“Oh, she looks at you alright.” Gigi smirked. “In fact, she’s looking at you right now.”

Jackie started and nearly dropped her stolen drink. It took a good amount of her willpower not to start looking around for the other girl. “Ha ha, Gigi, very funny.”

“Oh, it is no joke, mon petite. Jan’s by the entryway to the kitchen, staring at you like she’d rather have something other than liquor on her lips.” Nicky grinned smugly.

Jackie swiftly cast her eyes to the kitchen, trying not to move her head too much. Gigi and Nicky were right. Jan was standing there, staring directly at her. She looked gorgeous. No remnants of the green makeup remained and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, tendrils curling over shoulders bared by a sleeveless black dress. Jackie’s cheeks burned as Jan smiled, noticing Jackie staring back. Jackie swiftly lowered her gaze, taking another large drink of rum.

“Well? Go over there! She obviously wants you to!” Gigi encouraged.

Jackie shook her head. “She could be looking at you or at Nicky. I’m telling you, there’s nothing about me to stare at.”

“Un autre mensonge, mon petite. There is plenty about you to stare at. If you weren’t so devoted to your international studies, I’d have snatched you to model for me already. Those legs, that neck, the dignity with which you hold yourself. I’d have the best model in Kappa Lambda Mu, if you wore my clothes.” Nicky countered, not sounding nearly as drunk as she looked.

“I agree.” Gigi continued. “You have a lovely face and your body would look wonderful draped in silks.”

“Now who’s lying, ladies?” Jackie replied, nervously.

“You. I thought that was what we were talking about, non?” Nicky asked Gigi.

Jackie went to take another drink and found her cup empty. She was already buzzed, the alcohol thrumming pleasantly under her skin. But she wouldn’t risk having to pass Jan to get back to the kitchen for another. She stood and sat the empty cup on the coffee table. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Air?” Gigi teased. “Looks like you’re thirsty to me, Miss Cox.”

Jackie shook her head and made for the front door. More people had arrived and she was bumped several times on her way outside. Finally, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, leaning back against it and sucking in a large breath of cool spring air. She moved to sit in one of the several papasan chairs dotting the porch and removed the light hoodie she’d been wearing. The breeze felt wonderful on her heated neck and Jackie closed her eyes, inhaling. She sat for a few minutes like that, letting the breeze wash over her as the dull thud of bass thudded against the inner walls of the house. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that the fairy lights strung up along the porch had come on and smiled at the whimsical twinkling. She could leave right now, she’d Ubered here, so she could call another. She could put tonight and Nicky and Gigi’s words behind her, not having to worry about seeing Jan again until the fall production. But her legs felt tingly and the breeze was so nice. She could spare a few more moments before pulling out her phone. Her eyes slipped shut again, just as she heard the music quickly rise and fall in volume and the front door shut.

Jackie opened her eyes and was caught in the stare of another pair of brown eyes gazing back at her. Her throat closed and the breeze suddenly felt frigid on her exposed skin. Jan was standing there, staring back at her, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the faint music. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Jackie croaked. She swallowed and tried again. “No, just needed some air.”

Jan nodded and gestured at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit? It’s boiling in there.”

“Sure,” Jackie replied. “It is pretty packed.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“It was nice of the Kappas to throw this for us. We worked hard on the show.” Jan commented as she sat down. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to Jackie and she could smell lavender and cedar.

“You guys did all the work. Long nights rehearsing and all. And performing for all those people.” Jackie shrugged, shaking her head to rid her nose of the smell.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. We didn’t have hardly any mishaps with the sound this show and none at all on opening or closing night. I don’t know much about the sound aspect, but that couldn’t have been easy.” Jan smiled.

Jackie laughed, “It’s just a bunch of button pressing, really. Not hard at all.”

Jan shrugged, “You’d know better than I do, but I still think you did an amazing job. You always make sure everything works as best as you can.”

Jackie blinked, stunned. “There are plenty of techs who do what I do.”

“Yeah, but none of them ever get my mic set up right. You get it right every time. From day one. When we did Rent?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I was so convinced I’d spend the entire run through majorly uncomfortable because the mic set up was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised when everything felt fine. I asked the production techs about you and requested you ever since.” Jan smiled, curling her long legs up into the chair.

“Wow, uh, thank you? Glad I could help?” Jackie laughed. Her blush was back in full force and she wished the fairy lights were red or pink so she could blame it on them. “You were amazing in Rent, by the way. Your Maureen was awesome. I’d hoped you would keep performing.”

Jan’s eyes lit up, “Thank you. I love theatre and singing, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Jackie couldn’t think of anything else to say and the conversation tapered off. Jan was still looking at her though, fairy lights reflecting in her brown eyes. Nervous at the scrutiny, Jackie dipped her head, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Gentle hands moved her head back up and tilted her face towards Jan. The younger girl leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to Jackie’s. They were only there for a second, but Jackie’s breath hitched at the light pressure. “Yeah, you did. Me.”

Jackie swallowed and reflexively swiped her tongue along her bottom lip. She could taste honey and hoped it was from Jan’s lip chap. “Uh. What. What was that for?”

Now Jan sported a blush and finally dropped her gaze. “I thought- It was stupid, I just thought that maybe you, uh, liked me? But I was wrong, I’m so sorry, I’m not usually so forward-”

Jackie cut her off by kissing her again. She felt Jan gasp, and her eyes slipped close as Jan’s lips began moving against her own. Jan did taste like honey and Jackie thought it was the sweetest thing she’d tasted all night. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and eventually Jackie was forced to pull away, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air. She could feel that her face was flushed and saw a matching one across Jan’s.

“You weren’t. Wrong that is. I’ve, uh, liked you since Rent. I just thought that you wouldn’t notice me, me being behind the scenes and all.”

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” Jan replied, grinning wide. “Would you want to get coffee tomorrow? With me?”

Jackie grinned to match, “Yes. Yes, it’s a date?”

“Yeah, a date.” Jan moved closer to Jackie. “But I’d really like to keep kissing you now. You taste like coconut rum and it’s my favorite.”

Jackie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Jan’s once more. It looked like she’d have to thank Nicky for the stolen drink tomorrow. After her date.

#rpdr fanfiction #jan sport #jackie cox #nicky doll #gigi goode #crystal methyd #brita filter #jaida essence hall #heidi n closet #aiden zhane #jankie #lesbian au #college au #fluff #rune #s12

[langdxn]

I'm soooo curious how others perceive Cody, like his personality and stuff! Do you think you could write something where the reader is a fellow actress on ahs, and the moment Cody and her meet, the tension is heavy and sparks are flying, and after a while of getting close and hanging out Cody confesses his feelings? You can write it as a fic or as headcannons and add smut it's all up to you! I'm just so curious now hkgjfkfjjd 💕💖❤️

asdfghjkl this has ruined me 💕💕 I’ve never tried headcanons before so this probably sucks but here goes! I’m so sorry this is so long 😭😭😭

The first read-through for a season is terrifying enough, nobody knows who’s returning, who’s not returning, who the newbies are, what to expect.

You’re new this season so you turn up early just to introduce yourself before all the chaos ensues.

You’re the first one in the room and once you’re settled at your named seat, your handbag scooted neatly under your desk, the door creaks open and a heavily-ringed hand curls around it. Cody peeks round the corner and he’s already beaming from ear to ear before he’s seen who’s in the room.

Your heart doesn’t know whether to soar or sink like a stone because Cody freaking Fern just walked in smiling like a soft boi.

He’s stood in the doorway squealing with glee, he’s back for another season and he wasn’t dreaming it! He throws a “oh my god this is actually happening” in your direction.

He can’t decide whether to run over and greet you or sit down before everybody piles in and things get crazy. He settles for the latter because he’s shy as heck, so he saves himself the nerves by waving happily across the room. “Hey, you’re new here! Nice to meet you, I’m Cody!” His Michael rings glint in the early morning sunlight — he must be a morning person.

His Aussie accent is drop dead GORGEOUS by the way, there’s nothing that can change my mind about that, I don’t make the rules.

He spots his seat directly across from you and flings his bag on the table, pulling out his chair and sinking into the (indescribably uncomfortable) plastic chair.

So the read-through goes okay, Sarah Paulson’s front and centre smoking and Evan Peters is slumped in a chair in a dark corner.

Scanning through the script, you searched the pages for any scenes where you and Cody are together. From page one, you’re noticing his name above yours A LOT.

You looked over to him and you find Cody gazing back at you, wearing such a warm smile he lights up the whole fucking room.

You quickly looked back down but you couldn’t help looking again and this time he’s winking.

Or blinking really.

It’s a wink.

But he can’t wink.

So he blinks.

Turns out Cody’s character is hopelessly in love with yours and your character bats him off daily.

So when you’re on set, you never know whether he’s gazing at you longingly because he’s getting into character or it’s real.

You’re just lucky he’s not caught you staring at him back.

Yet.

One day before you settled down for filming, you swore you caught him and Leslie Grossman giggling and gesturing towards you. In any other situation you’d think it was a bad thing but they’re too kind to be malicious, especially not behind someone’s back.

Sometimes you’d sit together at lunch and he’s aaaalways reading, he’s nose-deep in philosophy books 24/7 and he’ll read some paragraphs out loud to get everybody talking.

Well, not quite everybody... Gus doesn’t even bat an eyelid.

Every day he’s wearing a different extravagant ring. The costume department must be out of jewellery because he’s always trying them on and ‘testing them out’.

He’s a people person. If he’s not talking, he’s listening, asking questions and actively getting to know everybody.

He’s forever the most popular guy during breaks in shooting, he’s always swamped by people, cast and crew trying to speak to him. That’s why it’s so hard to catch five seconds to speak to him one-on-one... not that you’ve got any courage for that, at least not yet.

“Ask me who I’m wearing,” he shouts over to Billie, gesturing at some out-of-this-world outfit he’s got ready for a photoshoot later. “BALENCIAGAAAAAA!”

Seriously, he LOVES dropping AHS references. It’s obvious he’s a superfan and he tries to restrain it but he’s just so happy to be where he is, living the dream.

Asking him for feedback on your performance in certain scenes is just impossible, he’d never say a bad word about anybody.

DID I MENTION he tries to wink at everybody but... it’s just not happening. He’s working on it. 

Weeks later, you’re filming a scene where Cody has to try and kiss you and you brush it off.

His hands are resting on your hips and he’s towering over you, his lips are hovering so close to yours and his gorgeous blue eyes are pleading with you to let him touch you.

You keep messing up the scene because you’re shaking and blinking frantically, it’s not that you’re not a professional but he’s literally right there begging you to capture his lips and melt into him.

Cody laughs it off and tries to calm you down by whispering that it’s okay to be nervous... like that’s not how you calm a girl down but bless him for trying.

A bunch of takes later, you were shaking so much your lips accidentally brushed together and finally that contact was all you needed to snap you out of your nervousness.

You nailed the next take and the directors finally called it for the day so you all head back to your dressing rooms.

Just as you’re about to leave, Cody taps you softly on the shoulder and takes you to one side.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he nervously flicks his hair back from his forehead, looking down at his feet. “I was nervous too.”

“What’s there to be nervous about?” You enquire feeling a little intrusive at first but as you’ve got him in private, it wouldn’t hurt to ask.

“Haven’t you seen the way I’ve been looking at you ever since the read-through? I can’t take my eyes off you, I can’t stop thinking about you.”

It’s like someone just smacked you with a brick, you’re totally dumbstruck.

“I—I thought that was just method,” you stutter, shaking your head nervously and some of your hair falls in front of your face.

Cody reaches to brush your hair behind your ear, his azure irises burning into yours like he can plunge right into your soul and pluck out your deepest desires.

“Is this method too?” He whispers.

He gazes at your lips as if he’s making a mental map of your face, knowing full well they’ll be the first thing on his mind in the morning and the last thing at night.

You dare to look down at his, he’s caught his bottom lip ever so slightly between his teeth.

Without another word, his fingers snake gently around the back of your neck and pull you in.

Cody’s lips press so softly against yours, begging you to let him know you feel the same.

Your eyes are closed but it’s like fireworks are dancing all around your vision, like a watercolour masterpiece forming in your mind.

You break away from his lips to breathe deeply and open your eyes to see his eyes glistening, a loving, fulfilled spark ignited by finally, finally kissing you.

You lean back in to sink into his lips, drawing into him deeper and deeper, you feel him smiling so hard against you — he took a risk on you and it paid off.

His large, gentle hands ghost down to your waist and pull you close until you’re flat against him, feeling his heart beating so frantically in his chest it might burst out.

You wrap your arms around him and he breaks your kiss for a moment, drinking in the sight of you flush up against him and feeling you still shaking in disbelief.

“You don’t need to be nervous anymore, Y/N,” he coos, “I’m falling for you.”

#cody fern #cody fern fanfiction #cody fern headcanons

[wewillwriteyou]

Crazy Little Thing Called Love || Chapter 6

A few elements from the main plot: A fine line falls between fiction and reality: what starts as a musical slowly becomes a game-changer. Tables will turn and it will get clear as the sun that the only unstoppable power in life … is love.

Summary Chapter 6: It’s time to admit the truth. How more can Ben trust his bottled feelings for Alex to stay bottled? How more can Liz blame her nerves for the way she is acting with the people she loves? Sometimes there just come a time you can’t keep it in any longer. 

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst is still around, folks. Some kissing and hints of sexual scenarios but nothing specifically graphic. Safe territory for everyone ✌🏼😏

A/N: This chapter is a rollercoaster of emotions and, more importantly, it’s essential for what’s to come in the future of our characters. Trust us, folks, don’t miss this one ✨💞

Sunday, 24 November 2019

As the rain started to fall from the sky, the princess stepped outside the castle and let the cold water wash away her thoughts. “Poor little girl – whispered the Sorceress looking at her from far away – if only she knew there is still no remedy for the love filter. Yet.”

“Please, wait!” Alex shouted, waving her hand in the air trying to stop the bus from departing.

She was clumsily running while a multitude of bags full of stage costumes was dangling from her arms.

As if she was invisible, the bus sped off leaving a disappointed Alex in the middle of the street.

“Breath in. Breath out” Alex repeated to herself, trying to calm down while a few raindrops started to fall from the grey clouds gathered in the sky.

She abandoned everything on the sidewalk and searched for the phone in her purse.

Whom to call?

She knew she had missed the last bus headed to campus and she was perfectly aware that her parents were out of town that weekend because her father had in program one of his concerts.

Her finger almost pressed Joe’s name. After all, she was there stuck in the city centre at almost 6pm because she had promised him a favour.

However, she did not want to hear his parent-style voice ready to say I told you, after he had repeated her at least ten times that it was better to go in the morning, because on a Sunday afternoon the chances to catch a bus were rarer than eating a decent meal in the college’s cafeteria.

She scrolled in the phone book until she found the name of the only person she knew being reliable: Elizabeth.

“Please, pick up Liz” Alex whispered tapping her foot on the ground as she could feel the rain get more intense.

No reply.

She puffed and tried to call her again.

At that moment, a voice shouted her name and she snapped her head to see a smiling Ben leaned against the opened car door, just a few meters away from where she was standing.

“Are you okay? Do you need a ride back to the campus? I don’t think you’ll be able to catch another bus at this hour,” he said shrugging his shoulders.

Alex, with the cell phone still pressed against her ear, looked at the deserted road, then back to Ben who was staring at her. She rolled her eyes and muttered between her teeth:

“Elizabeth you better have a great excuse when I come back”  

***

The ringing of the phone echoed in the dorm room.

“Don’t you want to answer?” Gwilym lifted his head from her chest to look her in the eyes.

Elizabeth smiled a little and placed a hand on his cheek, “I thought we said we needed some alone time…”

He smiled “Yeah, but it might be important”

She gave up and shifted on her bed to reach her nightstand, where her phone had eventually stopped ringing.

“Alex,” she put the phone back and laid down again, “I’ll call her back later.”

Gwilym climbed up the bed so that he could lay his head on the pillow as well and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, dragging her closer to his chest.

He was quite afraid to speak, but he knew he’d regret it if he hadn’t.

“Are you avoiding everybody?” he blurted out.

Elizabeth shook her head, “Why do you say that?”

“Well, that was your friend calling and you purposely refused to answer, Denise is wondering why you missed Art History yesterday and you skipped rehearsal last week… Shall I go on?”

She sighed but didn’t respond, her hand tracing shapes on his sweatshirt.

“And… – Gwilym continued anyway – and you haven’t spoken to Joe in two weeks…”

She knew he would have said that. And she also knew he was completely right.

She was avoiding everyone. Well, most people.

The thing was that since the kiss with Gwil on stage and the scene Joe had caused, she had felt the need to keep a low profile for a while and sort some things out in her head.

Like, why did she have the constant feeling her life was suddenly off? She had dreamed of being with Gwil for the past two months and now that he wanted to be with her, she had… changed her mind?

What’s wrong with me?

Why couldn’t she let herself go with Gwilym? For the past two weeks every moment she hadn’t spent alone or with Alex, she had spent with him. And yet, as soon as they started making out, she would feel things weren’t right, she would get self-conscious and awkwardly break the moment.

You’re just nervous… Yeah, but it wasn’t just that.

A sense of guilt about having wrecked things with Joe was constantly sneaking into her deepest fears.

And here came the biggest question mark she couldn’t bring herself to address: why was Joe constantly on her mind?

“Liz, now you’re scaring me. You’ve never been this quite – Gwil brushed a hand on her hair and rested his head on hers – I think it’s actually the first time you shut up since I met you”

She lightly chuckled and he smiled proudly, wondering and worrying about what was going on inside her head.

Elizabeth sighed, “I keep going around that day at the auditorium and I can’t shake the feeling most of it is my fault”

“What are you talking about?” Gwilym shifted so that he could see her face.

“I knew I had a crush on you – she admitted, while staring at her hand on his stomach – and Alex even suggested I talked to you about it… but I was too scared you’d turn me down so I waited. Then it happened what it happened and Joe flipped out. Everyone at the auditorium saw the scene and a friend from Econ class told me it’s already spreading on campus. I feel too awful to even step outside and to top it all now Joe won’t even talk to me…”

She struggled with getting out of the last sentence without letting her emotional state take over her.

“And in all this mess – she continued looking up to his eyes – you’re the only good thing and I can’t even let myself enjoy it…”

Gwilym smiled sweetly and bent down to place a chaste kiss on her lips, making her smile a little as well.

“Is that what all of this is about?” he asked and she turned to him with a confused look on her face, while nodding slightly.

“I’m glad you opened up, Liz – he started, while brushing her hair again – but believe me, it’s not that big of a problem, you know? People on campus talk about all kinds of stuff but it’s a matter of what? Two, three days? A week maybe? Believe me, before we know it they won’t even remember us…”

She still looked hesitant, so he added, “Besides, it’s not like we did something horrendous, didn’t we? I mean t’was a kiss on stage during rehearsal for a play. It’s not like we were shagging in a public place…”

Elizabeth almost choked on her laughter and Gwilym chuckled seeing the redness creeping up on her cheeks.

He took a breath before continuing on a more serious tone, “The real problem now is that we have to talk to Joe… - he glanced at her and he noticed the girl nodding along, while still playing with the fabric of his sweater - but you don’t have to worry. We’ll do it together”

She looked up at him again and smiled “I like that”

He chuckled “I know you do. Now please, can you go back to being Elizabeth?”

She laughed “Fine, I’ll be back… I’m sorry I haven’t been myself lately”

“That’s okay,” he smiled again and leaned in to kiss her.

She parted her lips and deepened the kiss, while his hands roamed from her side to her back.

She perched herself to roll on top of him without breaking the kiss. With a hand she began unzipping his sweatshirt and broke the kiss when she realised she couldn’t do it with one hand. Gwilym giggled.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing – he smiled. He was happy to see that she had opened up to him and it seemed to have improved their relationship as well. He continued – I like this side of you”

She frowned “What side?”

“The impulsive one. I’m glad we are where we are now”

He was smiling so sweetly, Elizabeth almost felt bad. He was charming and gentle and kind and everything anyone could ask for in a great person.

But she had that awful feeling he was not her person.

Now that her fantasies were coming true, she was starting to feel like maybe this wasn’t how things were meant to go. Maybe Gwilym wasn’t destined for her. Maybe she was keeping him from finding his destiny. Maybe he was keeping her from finding hers.

Why hadn’t this come to her before?

And why didn’t she have the guts to stop what was inevitably going to happen?

In the fraction of a second her brain elaborated this thought, she smiled and shut her thoughts in a corner of her mind, letting the irrational part take control of her actions.

She bent down to kiss him again, roaming her hands inside his sweatshirt and under his tee, slowly pulling it upwards.

Gwilym pulled back for a second “Are you sure?” he asked with his breath short.

Maybe this is the push I need to understand what I feel.

Maybe this will help me see what I need to do.

Maybe this is what is meant to happen.

Her irrational side was trying to justify why she was going along with it, but the truth was she didn’t know what she was doing. And for a change, maybe she actually even liked the idea of not knowing.

As an answer to Gwil’s question she just smiled and pressed her whole body into his, kissing him ardently.

He rolled both of them over so he could hoover her and broke the kiss for an instant to look at her in the eyes one more time, before locking her lips in another passionate kiss while pulling her jumper over her head and throwing it on the floor.

As item by item their clothes hit the floor like raindrops on a stormy summer day, the ticking of rain against the windows of the dormitory covered and hushed the sounds coming from room 896.

***

Alex’s eyes were lazily tracing the route of the raindrops on the car’s window, while inside the vehicle a pleasant warmth was hugging the air.

Ben looked at her from time to time, always swallowing the words in the back of his throat not knowing what to say.

“So – he started, and Alex reserved him one of her dry gazes – what were you doing in the city? Shopping? A date?”

“I just had to pick some things up for Joe,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders.

“Are you his assistant now?” Ben smiled, turning in her direction for a second. Alex rolled her eyes, but a friendly grin curved her lips.

“He wishes! No, I kindly volunteered because I wanted to have a stroll in the city centre anyway. I didn’t expect the tailor to be this chatty and I somehow ended up talking with him about my role in the musical”

Ben laughed along her hushed giggles and she looked at him with the corner of her eye.  

“Lucky for you I was there,” he then said.

Alex just nodded and Ben wondered if he had accidentally stepped over one of her many barriers.

“Yes, for once I have to admit you were in the right place at the right time” she replied, making Ben breath in relief. He smiled widely and Alex noticed.

He saw she was staring, so he raised his eyebrows and asked:

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

Alex giggled and scrolled her head. She blushed a little, but she knew he could not notice that.

“Nothing” she shrugged and came back to stare at the road.

She would have liked to tell him the truth. To tell him that she enjoyed his company too. To tell him that, if it wasn’t for Lucy, she would have let him ask her out.

But clearly, she couldn’t tell him.

The air around them, for once, was lightweight and Ben felt as if something was finally starting to change between them.

Too bad for him that he did not stop his tongue in time.

“Oh c’mon, I know you like me,” he joked, maybe a little too cheeky.

“Excuse me, what?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow. Her insides trembling a little at those words.

“I mean, deep down, you do like me”

“Not in the sense you mean”

“So you do!” Ben exclaimed, looking at her once again. The redness on Alex’s cheeks grew darker, but the worst part of her character spoke for her when she opened her mouth:

“Why are you insisting so much? How many times do I have to reject you to make you stop once and for all?” her voice showed a tiny bit of exasperation, but Alex knew she was just playing the role of the heartless one.

“Reject me? You never rej–“

Alex cut him off violently.

“Yes Ben, I have! I am doing it right now: I do not like you and I never will. You are not my type and the sooner you accept it, the better it would be for both us! For the whole damned world!”

The silence fell heavy between them, like a stone falling from the sky. The air inside the car once again became awfully quiet and Alex wanted to jump out the window and disappear.

She had hurt him. She could tell by his tensed hands on the steering wheel and the expressionless face, that she had taken his heart and threw it on the ground mercilessly.  

“I’m sorry – she mumbled, fingers fidgeting and palms sweating – I didn’t mean it”

Ben chuckled. Sardonic. Cold. And Alex felt the stings of guilt burn harder inside her stomach.

“You didn’t? Really?” he asked without diverting his eyes from the road not even for a second.

Alex breathed sharply; she had to think about her words twice this time. The last thing she wanted was to worsen the whole situation. Mostly because, deep down (and not even that deep), she cared about him. Even if she would have never admitted it.

“Ben, I’m not the answer. I don't know which answers you are searching for, but trust me if I tell you that I would be just another problem in your life”

“Why do you think I’m looking for answers? Maybe what I need is questions, not answers” Ben replied, squeezing the wheel a little harder.

“Don’t talk trough enigmas: shitty philosophic words are not gonna solve … this! We need frankness and truth and –“

“Do you want the truth? – Ben thundered, cutting Alex off – is that what you want, Alex?”

She froze on her seat, looking at him with her mouth agape as if a part of herself perfectly knew where all that conversation would have ended.

“Ben, don’t say things you’ll regret”

“Fuck regrets! You asked for the truth, didn’t you? – He harshly said briefly turning his head in her direction – the truth is I am in love with you, Alex. That’s it”

“You’re not, Ben! For fuck’s sake, cut the bullshits!” Alex talked back, shouting from the top of her lungs.

Ben cursed under his breath and, with an abrupt movement, he drove away from the main road to stop the car on the edge.  

He hit the brakes sharply, but Alex did not flinch. She was ready to face the storm that was about to burst out from Ben’s mouth.

He undid his seat belt and turned his whole body in her direction, but she remained impassive with her eyes fixed on the rain that was copiously falling on the windshield.

“What are you not telling me? Because honestly, I do not understand a shit of what is going on! A minute, you are friendly and giggly, the other one you are bitching me out! Why? Is it because of Allen? – Alex, who had remained still like a statue until that moment, snapped her head in his direction with furrowed eyebrows – are you guys … having a thing or something?”

“What does the fuck has Allen to do with all of this? We went out once for a coffee and, in case you did forget about it, you’re the one who is in a fucking relationship!” Alex replied, unbuckling her seat belt as well to move her body freer and look at him directly in the eyes.

“So the problem is Lucy? That’s why you act like … this with me!”

“I act like this because I respect her! I told you a million years ago: I’ve been with people like you, who cheated on me like I was nothing and do you know how does it feel? Like shit, that is how it feels!”

Before she could recompose herself, bitter tears rolled out from her eyes and before she knew, Alex was crying.

She looked away and tried to dry her face with the hem of her sweatshirt, sniffing loudly from her nose and breathing slowly to swallow the mixed emotions down her throat.

“You know, this is actually ironic. I can’t count the times I wished, just for a day, to be on the other side; to be the one my partner cheated on me with and not being the cheated one. And now, that I am in this position with you, while Lucy is somewhere on the campus thinking that her boyfriend is simply strolling around the city alone, you know how I feel? – Alex sadly asked, gazing at Ben who was speechless – like shit”

Ben sat correctly again, staring at the road ahead.

Alex copied his actions while searching for a tissue inside her bag.

The only audible sounds were the rain and their breaths. Nothing else was perceptible.

“It’s not easy for me either. I wish it was, but it isn’t” Ben then mumbled, breaking the thick silence.

“If you love me, as you said, why don’t you break up with her?” Alex questioned. Her voice had lost all its colours, sounding cold and distant.

“It’s complicated” he replied without hesitation. Alex nodded and looked out of the window to hide new tears that were blurring her sight.

“Complicated – she echoed – you could have just said you did not care enough. That would have hurt less” her merciless attitude was back.

But this time, Ben did not add a word. He simply started the engine and, after they had both buckle their seat belts up again, drove away heading towards the campus.

***

She heard her phone beeping for the third time and she tried to reach the nightstand without moving her right arm, momentarily useless since Gwilym was using her shoulder as a pillow.

“Shit” she muttered and threw herself out of the bed to reach the phone. She crouched down, feeling suddenly exposed with no blankets or clothes on.

Three messages, all from Alex.

“Crap – she said out loud and she heard Gwilym mumbling something on the verge of waking up – Gwil! Up up Gwil!”

He mumbled again while sitting up on the mattress and stretching his back, his eyes still closed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked still sleepy.

“It’s Alex. She’s coming home. She’s gonna be here any minute. Please get dressed!”

Gwilym got dressed really quick and helped Elizabeth gather all the things that were laying around.

She was too focused on tiding up to notice the grin he had from ear to ear. Or maybe she was forcing herself not to look at him in the eyes, cause she knew she’d instantly feel guilty when looking to his innocent, loving, smiley face.

When they were done however, she was forced to face him and when she did all the thoughts in her head came flushing back in.

She gave him a small, nervous smile before hiding her face in a tight hug.

She hugged him because it was the only thing she knew she could do to show him she cared about him without letting him know what was actually going on inside her head. Because when she had something going on, he could read it right on her face.

“Today was nice” he said softly inside the hug and she limited to shake her head in a nod.

“Alright, I should go now” he kissed her head and smiled again before heading to the door.

She smiled as well but the smile faded from her lips as soon as he closed the door behind him.

Her feet walked her to the bathroom and she automatically turned the shower on, gradually removed her clothes again and stepped under the hot water running.

Why didn’t she feel better? She thought she’d clear her mind but it had actually made it worse. Why did she feel like she had used Gwilym? Why did she feel like everything she did was wrong?

And yet again, why was Joe’s face always on her mind?

Was he the reason everything felt so off?

If anything, she was even more confused than a few hours before and she struggled trying not drowning in her thoughts, as she let the hot water wash away the lonely tear that had dropped from her eyelid.

***

The car stopped in a dark corner of the secondary entrance, just a few steps away from the gate that guided through the dormitory’s garden.

They both agreed that it was better to not draw attention, so Ben avoided the main parking lot in front of the Campus façade.

The rain had subsided, but a few annoying drops were still falling from the grey clouds all gathered above their heads.

Alex was putting on her coat again, under the silent gaze of Ben who did not know what to say or what to do.

“Thanks for the lift – she cold-heartedly said, collecting the bags she had put under her seat – good night”

But she waited for a second. The one last burning hope in her heart died soon after, when Ben simply nodded in her direction without saying a word. She slightly scrolled her head and opened the car door; before it closed behind her back, she was already walking away.

“Fuck! – Ben muttered, punching the steering wheel – you complete idiot!” he said to himself. He raised his head and saw her figure getting more distant by the second.

It is now or never. He thought and, without thinking about it twice, he exited the car to run after her.

In the meanwhile, Alex was walking fast, cursing the mud pools that were dirtying her shoes. The grass was soaking wet and cold splashes were coming from both, the ground and the sky, wetting Alex as well.

What she truly wanted, at that moment, was to disappear under her heavy blankets and forget about the whole world.

She even wished to go back to her hometown. She wished her father had never gotten that new job and, in particular, she wished she had woken up early that damn morning, avoiding arriving late at the auditorium.

They would have never met. She and Ben.

It would have been better. She convinced herself.

And, with this last thought, she reached the door and stopped in front of it to look for the magnetic card inside her purse.

“Alex, wait” Ben’s voice recalled her attention. Suddenly and unexpectedly. She closed her eyes and inhaled, trying to find the strength to turn around without feeling the need to punch him in the face.

When she glanced behind her back, she saw him there. He was standing a few steps away, in the middle of the grass while the rain was boosting again.

“What do you want now?” her voice cracked a little, showing off an inner fragility that Alex hated.

Ben took a step closer.

“I could not let you go with the conviction that I don’t care about you – he started, taking another inch towards her direction – I care more than enough about you” he admitted, shouting a little to overpower the dashing of drops against the trees’ leaves.

Alex thanked the darkness that was surrounding them; otherwise, he would have noticed the redness that had spread on her cheeks.

“I don’t know what it is, but … I can’t stay away from you,” Ben added once he was literally a step away from Alex. If he’d lowered himself, the tips of their noses would have touched against one another.

“It’s wrong. This entire situation, is wrong” she replied, but her resolute tone melted into a confused bubbling when Ben pushed away a strand of her hair behind her ear.

Alex looked up at him with widening eyes that, unfortunately for her, spoke louder than her actions. Her gaze was screaming kiss me now, asshole.

And Ben, who had the same sparkling flare in his pupils, got that silent message loud and clear.

When her gaze fell on his lips, Ben interpreted that action as the green light he was waiting for; without further hesitation, he cupped her face and pressed his mouth against hers.

Taken by the heat of the moment, he hadn’t even noticed that Alex had already put herself on her tiptoes, but once he had parted his lips and felt her warm tongue playing with his bottom lip, he understood she wanted it as much as he did.

The bags slipped away from Alex’s hands, as she stretched her arms behind Ben’s back to pull him closer. His hands squeezed her hips and kept her glued against his body.

The kiss was short but passionate. Almost desperate.

They soon parted from each other, breathless and confused. They stared into each other’s eyes for another brief and silent moment.

Then the awareness of their action hit them like a train and they both felt as if they were being run over and thrown away from the rail.

Alex gently pushed him away and, after opening her mouth uselessly because not a single sound exited her lips, she bent down to collect her stuff. Ben stepped closer to help her, as she started struggling to look once again for the card to enter the dormitory.

“Thanks,” she shyly said and turned around to open the door.

Ben remained there, looking at her ready to step inside the building. But she froze for a moment and turned her head again.

“What?” Ben asked indecisive, not to know what to expect.

Alex sighed and rolled her eyes; she put down the bags and walked closer, then, with the same attitude of someone who has no choice, she gripped the collar of his jacket and pulled him down to deposit one last chaste kiss on his lips.  

When she let him go, Ben was incredulous and Alex giggled noticing the stupid grin that was curving his lips.

“This is how you kiss a lady good-night, Hardy,” she then said, a second before closing the door behind her back and disappearing inside the dormitory.

“What the fuck was that?” Ben asked himself, passing a trembling hand through his wet hair as an excited giggle escaped his lips. He gave the door one last gaze, before scrolling his head and walking – well, floating – toward his car.

“What the fuck was that!” Alex muttered, abandoning her back against the wall once she had stepped inside. She passed a hand through her wet hair and a spontaneous, unwanted giggle flew out from her lips.

She recomposed herself and, climbing the stairs to reach her room with complete chaos crowding her head, she was sure of only one thing: Ben was a damn good kisser!

Fuck!

-

Chapters: ⬸ previous | next ⤑

A/N: Hello folks! Did you expect this ending? What do you think of Liz’s choices? Did you tear up as well when Ben ran after Alex? Let us know in the comments below! And don’t forget to like and reblog if you’d want your friends to read this story!

Enjoy! 

Tag List: @littledarlingwellaway​​ - @petriwhore​​ - @bohemiandelilah​​ - @misshystericalqueen​​ - @loki-lover095​​ - @inthelapofthe39​​ - @starsoflovingness-wq​​ - @minetticatinwonderland​​ - @cairdes20​​ - @friendswillbefriendsblog​​ - @o-holynight​ - @trash-record-collection​ - @please-stop-me-now​ - @theappleofmybri​ - @imgonnabeyourslave​ - @babygotblueeyes​ - @mi55chanandlerbong​ - @deaky-with-a-c - @luckytrashgooprebel - @thosequeenboys - @rogahs-drowse​ - @rogerismyfairyking​ - @killer-qu33n-of-disaster​ - @sunshine112​ - @a19103​ - @queenlover05​ - @modymody99​ - @bensrhapsody​ - @peterwandaparker​ - @sjeunhaelover​ - @franciu95​

#crazy little thing called love #CLTCL #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody cast #borhap #borhap cast #borhap boys imagine #joe mazzello #ben hardy #gwilym lee #lucy boynton #rami malek #allen leech #joe mazzello x oc #ben hardy x oc #gwilym lee x oc #lucy boynton x rami malek #smut #fluff #angst #deakyswhitequeen #sweetgcreature #wewillwriteyou #wewillwriteyou masterlist

[rogertaylors-lipgloss]

American Girl, the Formerly Untitled Ben Hardy x Reader Chapter 4

As I said in my post earlier, this is kind of a filler chapter to get us from point A to point B. Taglist is open, enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 4.5k+

Warnings: Tooth-rotting fluff, irreverence for Uber drivers, Slight Dom, Godless Smut. 18+, y’all. 

Two Months Later

Filming was well underway and although most of the major costuming decisions had been made, you still had plenty of work to do on set, constantly mending and adjusting the boys’ wardrobe pieces. Ben was particularly bad about popping buttons, but after the sixth loose button in a handful of days you had finally realized that he was doing it on purpose.

When he walked up to where you and your sewing kit were set-up clutching a shirt in one fist and a small, unseen object in the other. You smirked. “Let me guess, another button?” You held your hand out expectantly and Ben sheepishly handed over the small object. He caught your eyes and flashed you a grin, knowing you were a sucker for that award-winning smile. “You know Ben, the other boys can manage to make it through days of filming without having a wardrobe malfunction. I’m beginning to wonder if you might have some nefarious ulterior motives in constantly destroying that shirt.”

He clutched the shirt to his chest in mock outrage. “Moi? Why Y/N, you wound me!” You giggled as he stepped around the desk you were sitting at and swooped down to place a kiss on your ear. “I can’t help it if this shirt is just a bit too small for my rippling muscles.” You snorted, and he pinched your side in retaliation. He peppered small kisses along your cheek and slipped his arms around your shoulders as you quickly reattached the button to his shirt.

“There, all better!” You pull your head away from his greedy lips and he scoffed in protest. “Now, get back to set before Roger Taylor decides you’re more trouble than you’re worth!” He chuckles and turns to wink at you before walking back over to the cameras.

Later that day

You had already completed your work for the day, but the boys were hanging around waiting for Rami and Lucy to finish one of their scenes. The whole group was supposed to be going out for drinks and karaoke tonight, so you cleaned up your desk and made your way to join them in waiting. You stopped in front of one of the doors, taped to it was a sheet of paper that read, “The Band,” and underneath someone had scribbled in “plus Lucy,” “plus Allen,” and “plus Y/n.” It had been Joe’s dressing room, and not even a week into filming the boys had taken the couch out of Gwil’s and finagled it into the space. The two couches sat opposite each other, centered around a large television that Rami had mounted to the wall. Opening the door, you were instantly greeted by Ben, Gwilym, Joe, and Allen.

“Y/N!” They collectively shouted, Ben winking at you from his spot on one of the couches. Allen and Gwil are sitting across from him, and Joe’s plopped down in the ratty bean bag you had begged him not to get on one of your most recent thrifting adventures.

“Hey, guys. What are you watching?” The four of them had their eyes glued to the television screen in front of them.

“We’re watching Undrafted, Joe here’s bloody brilliant,” Allen answered with a giggle. You’d lived in the UK for a few years now, but his Irish accent still made the corners of your mouth pull up into a grin.

You step gingerly around Joe, whose long legs take up almost the entire space, and walk towards Ben, who pats the seat next to his. Smiling, you fall onto the couch next to him and turn your attention to the screen. Joe had forced you to watch it the first week you’d met him, and at this point you’d seen it at least ten times. His character, Pat, had just struck out and was screaming and stomping around the outfield. It was your favorite part and it never failed to make you laugh every time. Joe beamed up at you as you struggled to contain your laughter.

God, how Ben loved the sound of your laugh. You pulled your feet up onto the couch and perched your legs across Ben’s lap. As the group of you watched the movie, Ben couldn’t resist running his fingers up and down your jean-clad legs.

By the time the movie was winding to an end, Rami and Lucy finally finished filming for the day and made their way into the dressing room. “Y/N!” Lucy shrieked, and you jumped up off of the couch (Ben wincing as you accidentally grazed one of his balls with your foot) and ran over to greet her. Over the past several weeks you and Lucy had grown inseparable and any minute she didn’t spend on set she spent distracting you in the costume department. “Boys, we’ll see you all later! Y/N and I are going to get ready and we’ll meet you at the karaoke place in a couple hours.” Rami pecked Lucy’s cheek goodbye before moving to take your vacated seat next to Ben, who winked at you as you waved bye to everyone.

“Wait, did they say hours? As in plural?!” You heard Joe complaining as the door shut behind the two of you, who both chuckled at the zealous redhead.

“Come on, we’re going to get ready at my place!” Lucy grabbed your hand and pulled you away with her.

---

A little while later, you found yourself standing in front of Lucy’s bathroom mirror as you curled her short, platinum hair loosely around the hot wand in your hand. You spritzed her locks with a bit of saltwater spray before gently tousling them with your fingers. “Ta-da!”

“Wow,” she exclaimed. “Tell me again why you aren’t working for hair and makeup on set?”

You rolled your eyes and smiled at her in the mirror. “I’m glad you like it, Luce.”

You’d helped her pair together light-wash boyfriend jeans with a white Rolling Stones tee, the sleeves rolled up and the hem twisted and tied so that it rested just above her belly button and matched the color of her lipstick to the that of the lips on her tee. She had decided to finish off the look with her favorite pair of black creepers before whirling around on you. “Alright, Y/N, it’s your turn now!”

She ignored your groans and protests, pushing you into the bedroom where you’d left your bag of clothing options. After several minutes of digging, Lucy emerged with an army green tank top that covered your chest to the neck, although the way it clung to your every curve left little to the imagination. She tossed it at you, along with the shortest pair of denim shorts you owned. “Hold on!” She rushed back through the bathroom and into her own closet, returning with a pair of solid black suede ankle boots and a black felt hat. She couldn’t stop smiling as she perched the hat atop your head and finally declared you “absolutely perfect!”

“Not bad, Luce!” You admired yourself in the floor-length mirror she had leaned against the wall of her bedroom. “Not bad at all.”

She pressed a kiss to your cheek, forgetting all about her lipstick and leaving you with a red imprint on your face. “Oops! Let me get that!” She carefully dabbed the red smudge off without ruining your makeup underneath, then the two of you set off for the small, hole-in-the-wall karaoke bar that Gwilym had vouched for.

---

Ben sat at a large table with Joe, Rami, Gwilym, and Allen, knee bouncing underneath table as he looked to the door, anxious for your impending arrival. When you and Lucy finally did arrive, his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you in that skimpy little top. His mouth was practically salivating as he thought of that same top in a crumpled mess on his bedroom floor. This was going to be a very long night, he thought.

Ben and Rami had left two empty seats between them for you and Lucy to slip into. Ben pressed a kiss to your cheek, murmuring, “You look incredible tonight, love.” You blushed and returned his kiss. Settling into the table, you turned to Joe.

“So Joe, how many times have you put your name on the list already?” You asked, unaware of Ben’s lustful eyes still on you.

Joe scoffed playfully. “Only five!” The table laughed at his response, except for Ben. You turned to look at him and recognized that all-too-familiar look in his eyes. As everyone else returned to their own conversations, Ben scooted his chair closer to yours and placed his hand on your bare thigh. You met his gaze and smirked before leaning in to whisper in his ear. “Are you feeling alright, Ben?”

“If I say no, does that mean we can leave sooner?” You shook your head and giggled when he groaned out loud. “What can I say to get you to meet me in the bathroom then?” Ben leaned in and his breath on your neck (as well as his words) sent your pulse racing. His fingers traced their way up your thigh, closer and closer to the hem of your shorts. As his index finger started toying with the edge of the denim, he looked up at you with those big blue eyes, hoping (read: knowing) you wouldn’t be able to resist. But unlike Ben, you were hyperaware of your surroundings.

You lightly swatted his hand, glancing around to make sure no one had noticed. “Ben!” You chastised him playfully and he smirked at you, leaning back in to whisper in your ear, “Fine, but the second we get in the car, I am ravishing you in every way I know how.”

You gave him a small kiss on the lips. “Couldn’t we at least make it back to your place first?”

“Hey, I can hear you guys!” Joe cried out, fake disgust riddling his facial features.

“Oi, mom and dad are having a grown-up conversation!” Ben quipped back, the table erupting with laughter.

The boys already had their drinks, so you leaned over to Lucy and asked what she wanted before you headed over to the bar, leaving a whining, needy Ben alone at the table.

There were quite a few people crowded into the karaoke bar that night, but you didn’t mind sliding onto a barstool and waiting patiently for the bartender to take your order. You noticed Ben’s gaze still on you, as if he were hunter and you were Bambi’s mom. He couldn’t help but admire your ass in those shorts, feeling his own pants grow tighter as he watched. When the bartender was finally able to free up her attention long enough to pour you and Lucy some shots of tequila, you took the small tray from her and nodded in thanks as you carefully headed back to the table.

While you’d been gone, Joe’s name was called and he had begun his rendition of “Bennie and the Jets.” Laughing as he overemphasized every Bennie with an airy squeal, you and Lucy clinked your glasses together before downing one, two, and three shots each. Ben was engaged in conversation with Gwilym and Allen, but his hands never left your thigh as you and Lucy giggled at one of Rami’s stories. The night continued on this way. You and Lucy eventually got up and sang ���Woman” by Kesha, Ben and Joe sang none other than Queen’s “You’re My Best Friend,” earning jealous pouts from both Rami and Gwilym as Allen laughed. It was absolutely terrible and as much as you liked Ben, you cringed slightly when he echoed Joe singing “happy at home.” Gwilym had been surprised when you recognized a song that he’d chosen by the Irish-rock band, The Pogues, that he’d pulled you up on-stage with him as the two of you belted out “Fairytale of New York.” It was a beautiful train wreck, and all of the boys got up to sing “Bohemian Rhapsody” as the ultimate big finish. You and Lucy sat back and cackled as the other patrons raised their eyebrows at the five very tipsy boys tripping around onstage as they attempted to head bang to the guitar-heavy rock section of the famous song.

After exchanging goodbyes, you and Ben climbed into an Uber and made your way back to his apartment. In the dark of the backseat, Ben was silent with his lips pressed to your collarbone as his hands attempted to explore your body. The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and cleared his throat, turning up the music slightly, and you giggled as an embarrassed Ben halted his attempts. He held on to your hand, however, drawing circles on your palm with his index finger. When the car finally came to a stop, your feet had barely touched the pavement outside before you were being swept off of your feet.

“Ben!” You shrieked as he bolted up the sidewalk and through the front door of his townhouse. Once inside, your feet once again only touched the floor for a moment before Ben had you pushed up against the same door he had only just slammed closed.

“Have I told you how much I love that you get along with my friends?” He asked, his chest pushed up against your own. His question was rhetorical, but before you could answer anyway (like the smartass you are), his lips crashed into yours with bruising force. His hands wandered up and down your body, torn between squeezing your ass and groping your chest. Your own hands hung useless at your sides, unsure of how to reciprocate Ben’s attack on your senses.

From deeper in the apartment, Frankie came strutting out to see the commotion, barking as she made her way. Ben ignored the pup, his hand sliding up one of your thighs to lift your leg and wrap it around his waist. You murmured his name in a weak protest. He groaned in acknowledgment but continued sucking at your collarbone and grinding his hips eagerly against your center. Your eyes darkened, but you were quickly pulled right back out of the trance when Frankie finally found the two of you and began barking in earnest. Ben finally gave up when Frankie put her two front paws on the back of his legs.

Sulking, he set you back on your feet and turned to lift the pup into his arms. “Frankie, we’ve talked about this…” he muttered as he disappeared with her, presumably to let her out into the yard. While he was busy, you bolted for his bedroom. Your overnight bag sat on the floor, Lucy having had her assistant deliver it from her place to Ben’s while you’d all been out. You heard the sliding door open and Ben and Frankie shuffle outside, and you knew you didn’t have much time. Quickly, you unzipped the bag and dug around until your hands brushed against the lace fabric you’d been searching for. You pulled out the black lace bodysuit, a more affordable echo of the expensive garments you’d seen in the window of Agent Provocateur while shopping in London. Luckily, not long after that, you found a small boutique that carried much more reasonably-priced lingerie. You’d never really worn actual lingerie before, aside from a pretty matching bra and panty set. As you rid yourself of your karaoke clothes, you realized that this was entirely new territory. You dashed into the bathroom and made sure to wipe down the key areas that you knew had collected sweat throughout the night and ran a brush through your hair to tame it. You admired yourself in the mirror, spritzing a small amount of your signature perfume on your neck as you heard the back door open once more.

Ben closed the door behind him and walked back into the main living area. Expecting to find you where he left you, his brows knit together in confusion until he walked down the hallway to see the door to his bedroom wide open. There you were, perched intentionally across the foot of his bed, gazing up at him with the most “come hither” eyes you could muster. His own eyes widened as he took in the sight of you scantily clad in black lace.

He stood there for a moment and you began to worry that he’d had a stroke. Standing up, you walked slowly over to where he stood, still frozen in the doorway. Your inner sex goddess took over as you stopped about an inch away from him. You looked up into his piercing green eyes, clouded with lust, and flicked your gaze down to his lips, still swollen from earlier. Your tongue darted across your lips as you slid a finger into the waistband of his jeans to pull him towards you, guiding him until you felt your legs hit the back of the bed. When you pulled him down onto the bed with you it was as if his trance had been broken. Suddenly, he was back on top of you with the same fervor he’d had when you’d first arrived home.

“Y/N, you minx,” he moaned, his hand running across the lace that covered your stomach. You reached between the two of you and began undoing his belt. Unbuttoning his jeans, your lips never leaving Ben’s, you managed to push them and his briefs down his hips far enough for his cock to spring out. Though this wasn’t the first time you’d seen it, a small gasp still escaped from your lips, Ben moaning as you took it in your hand. “Fuck,” he cursed.

A devilish smile played across your lips as you gently pushed him off of you and onto his back. You pressed a light kiss to his jaw, continuing to intermittently pepper kisses on his skin as you made your way tantalizingly slowly down his body. His hands found their way to tangle themselves in your hair, and when you halted just above his member to suck a mark on his pubic bone, he absentmindedly tightened his grip and tried to buck his hips into you.

You removed your lips from him, tutting. “Easy, Ben. Don’t you want to take this slow?”

He cried out as you allowed your tongue to just barely graze the head of his penis. “Y/N, love- please. Please, please, please.” You were slightly taken aback, you’d never had a man beg you. You were even more surprised to feel yourself growing wetter with each “please” he uttered. Ben whimpered as you pretended to think about it, tracing your fingers across his abs as you made another mark on his thigh. Looking down at his swollen, throbbing cock, leaking with precum, you suppressed a moan. Finally, you took him into your mouth, wrapping one of your hands around his base so that you wouldn’t choke on his enormous length. His cock twitched on your tongue and you hummed against him, causing him to cry out once more. You started to bob your head up and down on him, but Ben’s fingers tugged on your hair, pulling you off with a pop. Worried, you asked, “did I do something wrong?”

Ben’s eyes flared and softened, “no, no, no, baby. I just wanted to try a more, uh, mutually beneficial position.” When you looked confused, he sat up to pull you further up the bed. He kissed you softly on the lips, before uttering, “do you trust me, love?”

When you nodded, he helped you position yourself until you were straddled in a reverse cowgirl-esque position across his chest. He tapped your knees and it finally dawned on you what he was trying to do. That cheeky bastard wanted to sixty-nine. You repositioned yourself so that your knees rested on either side of his head, your lace-clad center hovering over his face. Before you could return your mouth to its earlier work, Ben moved the fabric of your bodysuit to the side so that you were on full display to him. After thoroughly coating them in his mouth, Ben carefully slid his index and middle fingers into your dripping core, eliciting a loud moan from you. His head moved and, much to your surprise, his tongue flicked across your clit several times before his lips attached to it, sucking relentlessly. You felt your knees buckle and his name fell from your lips, but you pushed through the pleasure and tilted your head to take his cock back into your mouth.

The two of you continued this way for a few moments before Ben curled his fingers inside of you to press against your sweet spot. You sputtered against his cock and it fell out of your mouth. As he picked up speed, you managed to croak out, “Ben, I need you.”

His fingers still continuing their relentless assault, Ben grinned. “M’right here love. I can feel how close you are my sweet girl. Fuck.”

Trying to keep yourself from coming, you were on the verge of tears. “Ben, stop. I want- I need your cock, baby. Please, Ben.” Satisfied that he had the upper hand, he removed his lips and fingers from your soaking pussy. You moaned at the lost sensation and carefully moved off of Ben. He knelt behind you and unzipped the back of your lingerie before sliding it off your shoulders and helping to pull down and off your legs. Once you had been freed, with your back still to Ben, you knelt on the bed on your hands and knees, wiggling your ass in the air to get his attention. You knew you had it when his hand came down on your ass with a hard smack, and you cried out at the impact. 

“Naughty girl,” he chastised, his hand connecting with your rear once more as he lined himself up. Massage the sore spot with one hand, he brought his other down to rub his cock against your folds. “You’re so fucking wet, baby. Who did this to you?”

Eager to see more of this new, dominant side of Ben, you ground your ass into him as you teasingly said, “Gwilym.”

Another smack, then he gathered your hair in his hand and twisted it so that you were pulled back against him. His other hand came up to caress the side of your face, down your neck, and in the valley of your breasts, then moving to toy with one of your nipples. You squirmed, but he only pulled your hair tighter, pinching your nipple in response. Your center ached for him and you tried to rut your behind into him once more. Your hand snaked down to your clit and began rubbing circles in search of relief, but Ben grabbed your wrist in his hand. “I don’t think so, love. Liars don’t get to come.”

You swallowed, and wanting to see how far you could take this, you said, “Who says I was lying?”

A blistering heat rose in Ben. “Is that so?” Releasing you from his grasp, he pushed you down in front of him and grabbed your hips. You cried out in ecstasy as he forced himself into you and immediately started pounding you so hard that you swore your eyes rolled back into head. Tears spilled down your cheeks as the sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, interrupted only by your cries. You whimpered his name, over and over. Ben felt your walls tighten around him and his hand connected with the flesh of your ass once again. “Tell me, Y/N. Tell me or I won’t let you come.”

You stayed silent, sure that he was bluffing, but you sobbed when he suddenly pulled out and began stroking himself with his hand. “Say it, Y/N. Who made you this wet?” He asked once again, running the fingers of his free hand between your folds.

Mascara streaming down your face, you finally relented. “You. You did Ben.”

“Not Gwil?”

“No. Only you, baby.” You had barely gotten the words out of your mouth when he plunged back into you, reassuming the same brutal pace as before. This time, he wrapped his arm around your waist to reach between your legs, circling your clit to bring you closer to the edge. His own orgasm was quickly approaching and when you finally came, you clamped down on him so tightly that the sensation of his own release prolonged your orgasm. His movements stuttered and his hands tightened their grip on your hips as he held you in place, milking every last drop of cum from his erection.

You collapsed, bringing Ben toppling down on top of you. He rolled off of you and onto his side, and you flinched as his cock slipped out of you. Ben could sense how sore you were and pulled you closer to his chest. You focused on steadying your breathing and Ben brushed the hair from your face before nuzzling his face into the back of your head.

In your post-coital haze, you weren’t thinking clearly about the potential consequences as the words “I love you” fell from your lips. Only after the words had escaped and were already hanging in the air did you realize what you’d said. You froze, waiting for his response.

Ben shifted beside you, propping himself up on his elbow. “What did you say, Y/N?”

You winced and covered your face with your hand. This was it, the rejection. You were sure of it. But instead, Ben gently took hold of your wrists and pried your hands away. “Please, say it again.”

Your heart-rate picked up and you let out a deep breath before finally repeating yourself. “I said, ‘I love you,’ Ben.” You looked up into his eyes, unable to read the intention in his face, and for the shortest moment you braced yourself for the worst. After all, he was an actor. He was already recognized frequently for his role on Eastenders, and you knew that once Bohemian Rhapsody hit theaters those one or two girls who recognized him at the store would turn into hundreds. Why would he want to tie himself down to you of all people when soon he would have women tripping over themselves to get to him? Maybe your fears had been right, maybe this was just an on-set fling.

But then the corners of Ben’s mouth tugged into the widest smile, his eyes sparkling with adoration. “You love me?” He asked, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. You nodded.

“Do you love me?” You asked, and he blinked down at you incredulously.

“Do I love you?” Ben’s lips found yours, his hand that had been on your cheek moving slightly behind your ear. You leaned into his touch, but he broke the kiss. “Of course I love you, you looney!” You both giggled and he kissed your temple before settling his chin atop your head, holding you to his chest as you both drifted off to sleep.

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[runic-riptide]

if you care to find me (janxjackie)

The party was in full swing by the time Jackie arrived. She could see a few other people from the theatre department, but overall she didn’t recognize many of the people crowded into the sorority house. The Kappa Lambda Mu sorority was all fashion majors and a few of them had made the costumes for the theatre department’s performance of Wicked. That led into the current raging after party for the closing night of the show. 

Jackie thought it had gone really well, they’d gotten a standing ovation at the end and thankfully none of the sound equipment had fucked up during the show. As the main sound tech, that had been her biggest worry for weeks. But now it was over and she could enjoy the party.

“Jackieeeeee!” a heavily accented voice called over the music. Jackie was blindsided by a mess of giggling French girl, as Nicky plowed into her side, the Red solo cup in her hand splashing something that smelled overwhelmingly of coconut rum onto the carpet. “You made it!”

Jackie reached out to steady Nicky; how was she still standing in those heels? “Yeah, I couldn’t miss it!”

“Come, we’ll get you a drink! Crystal is mixing and everything tastes wonderful!” Nicky shouted over the din. She took Jackie by the wrist and began leading her through the throng of people towards the kitchen. Jackie waved at Gigi and Heidi, both girls camped out by the snack table that was set up in the living room as she was pulled.

The kitchen had less people but not by much. There was a small cluster of people crowded around the makeshift bar on the island and Crystal was standing on the backside shaking a tumblr full of what looked like UV Blue and edible glitter.

“Miss Methyd! We have a theatre nerd in need of a drink! S’il vous plait!” Nicky hollered. Crystal nodded and dumped the blue mixture into another red Solo cup, handing this one off to an already tipsy looking Brita.

Crystal grinned at Jackie, her makeup already smudged a bit, “What can I getcha, Miss Cox?”

“Um, something fruity? With not too much alcohol?” Jackie replied. She could handle her liquor, but preferred staying sober in large groups. “Thanks!”

“Coming right up!” Crystal smiled and began pouring lemon vodka and Sprite into a fresh tumbler. She shook it lightly and poured the mix into a cup before adding a dash of Apple Pucker and a lime wedge. “Here you go! It’s a Sour Clown! A Crystal Methyd original.”

Jackie thanked her again and took a small sip. It didn’t have much of an alcohol taste and she was grateful.

“Come on, Miss Cox! Let’s go find your people!” Nicky said as she finished pouring more coconut rum into her cup. She took the wrist not supporting a cup and Jackie was pulled back into the main party.

Gigi and Heidi were still by the snacks, Brita was attempting to twerk on the makeshift dance floor, and Aiden and Jaida were standing nearby, badly hiding matching grins behind their own cups. Jackie scanned the crowded room and had to stifle a brief flash of disappointment, as the girl she was looking for didn’t seem to be in the throng of bodies.

Nicky pulled her down onto the cushy couch pushed against the far wall and promptly stretched out, kicking off her heels and laying stockinged feet in Jackie’s lap. Jackie grinned at the younger girl, only Nicky could be so comfortable with someone she’d barely known two months.

“So, tell me Miss Cox, Miss Cox if you’re nasty, tell me...what is up with you and the cheerleader.” Nicky grinned, taking a large gulp of her drink.

Jackie could feel heat creep up her neck and hoped the lights were dim enough to hide the blush. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” she mumbled into her cup.

“Ne ment jamais a une fille francaise, mon petite. It’s unbecoming.” 

“Nicky, you know I don’t speak French.” Jackie groaned. Apparently, they really were having this conversation.

“Never lie to a French girl. We can smell bullshit from a kilometer away.” Nicky translated, grinning smugly.

“There’s nothing between me and-and Jan. Nothing.” Jackie argued, plucking at the runs in Nicky’s tights.

“Please, Jackie, I have known you for what? Two months? Two and a half? It is painfully obvious that you like the cheerleader.” Nicky retorted, taking another sip. “Remember? You slipped and cut the music during the first dress rehearsal when she came out as Elphaba? Everyone turned to look and you turned as red as the skirt you were wearing that day.”

“You remember what skirt I was wearing?” Jackie giggled.

“Of course! Dear Gigi made it for you, said your others were…? Ah, de matrone? Motherly? Matronly!” Nicky yelled, finally finding the right word.

“My other skirts are not matronly! Gigi just likes short skirts.” Jackie argued, slightly offended.

“Yes, they are, dear. Every other skirt you own looks like you got them at a librarian’s estate sale.” Gigi chimed in, taking the seat next to Jackie and tickling the bottom of Nicky’s foot. Nicky shrieked and kicked, nearly upending Jackie’s drink all over her.

“Arrete ca! Devil child! The audacity of you!” Nicky cried, scrambling to sit up straight. 

“So what’s the tea? What’s the dish?” Gigi said, ignoring Nicky’s remarks.

“Jackie is refusing to acknowledge that something’s up with her and the cheerleader. You know, the one. Elphaba?” Nicky replied, outrage at Gigi forgotten in favor of gossip.

“Ahhhh, yes. Jan, Miss Jan Sport. Theatre major extraordinaire and cheerleader 24/7.” Gigi grinned at Jackie. “There is definitely something up.”

“There is nothing! I swear!” Jackie complained. She grabbed Nicky’s cup from her. “I am not nearly drunk enough to be talking about this.”

Jackie took a large gulp and tried not to cough as the rum burned down her throat. She really did not want to talk about this. She’d done four productions with Jan and every time Jan was the only one she’d noticed during the shows. She was… captivating. Her vocals were astounding, nearly the entire department was jealous of her ability to belt high notes like they were nothing. And during the dry runs, she was beautiful. Her long blonde hair falling over her shoulders, brown eyes lit up with love for her craft. Her passion was enthralling and Jackie fell a little bit more in love with her every performance. Not that she’d ever tell Jan any of this, being a behind the scenes kind of girl. The only interactions they’d had were when Jackie needed to set up her mic. But the brilliant smile she got from Jan was worth the limited moments she got to spend with the other girl.

“That’s a lie and you know it, Jackie.” Gigi snorted. “You look at her like she hung the moon and it’s obvious to everyone but Jan, apparently.” 

“Good, I’d prefer if it stayed that way. She barely knows I exist anyway. I’m just a sound tech, as long as she sounds good, that’s all she needs to know about me.” Jackie replied.

“And you’re just as oblivious, dear.” Nicki continued as if Jackie hadn’t spoken. “We all see the way she looks at you as well.”

“Looks at me? Jan doesn’t look at me. I think you’ve spent one too many nights staring too hard at your sewing machine, Nicky. You must be going blind.”

“Oh, she looks at you alright.” Gigi smirked. “In fact, she’s looking at you right now.”

Jackie started and nearly dropped her stolen drink. It took a good amount of her willpower not to start looking around for the other girl. “Ha ha, Gigi, very funny.”

“Oh, it is no joke, mon petite. Jan’s by the entryway to the kitchen, staring at you like she’d rather have something other than liquor on her lips.” Nicky grinned smugly.

Jackie swiftly cast her eyes to the kitchen, trying not to move her head too much. Gigi and Nicky were right. Jan was standing there, staring directly at her. She looked gorgeous. No remnants of the green makeup remained and her blonde hair was pulled into a loose bun, tendrils curling over shoulders bared by a sleeveless black dress. Jackie’s cheeks burned as Jan smiled, noticing Jackie staring back. Jackie swiftly lowered her gaze, taking another large drink of rum.

“Well? Go over there! She obviously wants you to!” Gigi encouraged.

Jackie shook her head. “She could be looking at you or at Nicky. I’m telling you, there’s nothing about me to stare at.”

“Un autre mensonge, mon petite. There is plenty about you to stare at. If you weren’t so devoted to your international studies, I’d have snatched you to model for me already. Those legs, that neck, the dignity with which you hold yourself. I’d have the best model in Kappa Lambda Mu, if you wore my clothes.” Nicky countered, not sounding nearly as drunk as she looked.

“I agree.” Gigi continued. “You have a lovely face and your body would look wonderful draped in silks.”

“Now who’s lying, ladies?” Jackie replied, nervously. 

“You. I thought that was what we were talking about, non?” Nicky asked Gigi.

Jackie went to take another drink and found her cup empty. She was already buzzed, the alcohol thrumming pleasantly under her skin. But she wouldn’t risk having to pass Jan to get back to the kitchen for another. She stood and sat the empty cup on the coffee table. “I’m going to get some air.”

“Air?” Gigi teased. “Looks like you’re thirsty to me, Miss Cox.”

Jackie shook her head and made for the front door. More people had arrived and she was bumped several times on her way outside. Finally, she slipped through the door and shut it behind her, leaning back against it and sucking in a large breath of cool spring air. She moved to sit in one of the several papasan chairs dotting the porch and removed the light hoodie she’d been wearing. The breeze felt wonderful on her heated neck and Jackie closed her eyes, inhaling. She sat for a few minutes like that, letting the breeze wash over her as the dull thud of bass thudded against the inner walls of the house. When she opened her eyes, she noticed that the fairy lights strung up along the porch had come on and smiled at the whimsical twinkling. She could leave right now, she’d Ubered here, so she could call another. She could put tonight and Nicky and Gigi’s words behind her, not having to worry about seeing Jan again until the fall production. But her legs felt tingly and the breeze was so nice. She could spare a few more moments before pulling out her phone. Her eyes slipped shut again, just as she heard the music quickly rise and fall in volume and the front door shut.

Jackie opened her eyes and was caught in the stare of another pair of brown eyes gazing back at her. Her throat closed and the breeze suddenly felt frigid on her exposed skin. Jan was standing there, staring back at her, a small smile on her face.

“Hey,” she said, just loudly enough to be heard over the faint music. “I thought you’d left.”

“No,” Jackie croaked. She swallowed and tried again. “No, just needed some air.”

Jan nodded and gestured at the chair next to her. “Mind if I sit? It’s boiling in there.”

“Sure,” Jackie replied. “It is pretty packed.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as nervous as she felt.

“It was nice of the Kappas to throw this for us. We worked hard on the show.” Jan commented as she sat down. The breeze carried the scent of her perfume to Jackie and she could smell lavender and cedar.

“You guys did all the work. Long nights rehearsing and all. And performing for all those people.” Jackie shrugged, shaking her head to rid her nose of the smell.

“Don’t underestimate yourself. We didn’t have hardly any mishaps with the sound this show and none at all on opening or closing night. I don’t know much about the sound aspect, but that couldn’t have been easy.” Jan smiled.

Jackie laughed, “It’s just a bunch of button pressing, really. Not hard at all.”

Jan shrugged, “You’d know better than I do, but I still think you did an amazing job. You always make sure everything works as best as you can.”

Jackie blinked, stunned. “There are plenty of techs who do what I do.”

“Yeah, but none of them ever get my mic set up right. You get it right every time. From day one. When we did Rent?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course. I was so convinced I’d spend the entire run through majorly uncomfortable because the mic set up was wrong. I was pleasantly surprised when everything felt fine. I asked the production techs about you and requested you ever since.” Jan smiled, curling her long legs up into the chair.

“Wow, uh, thank you? Glad I could help?” Jackie laughed. Her blush was back in full force and she wished the fairy lights were red or pink so she could blame it on them. “You were amazing in Rent, by the way. Your Maureen was awesome. I’d hoped you would keep performing.”

Jan’s eyes lit up, “Thank you. I love theatre and singing, I couldn’t see myself doing anything else.”

Jackie couldn’t think of anything else to say and the conversation tapered off. Jan was still looking at her though, fairy lights reflecting in her brown eyes. Nervous at the scrutiny, Jackie dipped her head, “What? Do I have something on my face?”

Gentle hands moved her head back up and tilted her face towards Jan. The younger girl leaned forward and lightly pressed her lips to Jackie’s. They were only there for a second, but Jackie’s breath hitched at the light pressure. “Yeah, you did. Me.”

Jackie swallowed and reflexively swiped her tongue along her bottom lip. She could taste honey and hoped it was from Jan’s lip chap. “Uh. What. What was that for?”

Now Jan sported a blush and finally dropped her gaze. “I thought- It was stupid, I just thought that maybe you, uh, liked me? But I was wrong, I’m so sorry, I’m not usually so forward-”

Jackie cut her off by kissing her again. She felt Jan gasp, and her eyes slipped close as Jan’s lips began moving against her own. Jan did taste like honey and Jackie thought it was the sweetest thing she’d tasted all night. The kiss felt like it lasted forever and eventually Jackie was forced to pull away, inhaling large gulps of the cool night air. She could feel that her face was flushed and saw a matching one across Jan’s.

“You weren’t. Wrong that is. I’ve, uh, liked you since Rent. I just thought that you wouldn't notice me, me being behind the scenes and all.” 

“I’m glad I wasn’t wrong.” Jan replied, grinning wide. “Would you want to get coffee tomorrow? With me?”

Jackie grinned to match, “Yes. Yes, it’s a date?”

“Yeah, a date.” Jan moved closer to Jackie. “But I’d really like to keep kissing you now. You taste like coconut rum and it’s my favorite.”

Jackie leaned forward again and pressed her lips to Jan’s once more. It looked like she’d have to thank Nicky for the stolen drink tomorrow. After her date.

#fic #if you care to find me #jan sport #jackie cox #fluff #drinking

[searchingwardrobes]

Natural Opposite: 11/16

This chapter has been a long time coming, and I am so excited to finally share it! Though Emma and Killian’s relationship doesn’t escalate in the physical sense yet, some walls still come down emotionally. This chapter is also one of the reasons for the M rating as we find out more of Emma’s back story.

Huge thanks as always to my awesome beta @distant-rose, and a shout out to everyone in the CSBB for the discord chat to help me pick the song for this Halloween dance. Especially @katie-dub who recommended “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra. Be sure to check out her CSBB story, Princess of White Chapel, because it is SO good! Actually, everyone in the CSBB put out exceptional work, so be sure to give them all the love and attention they deserve.

I can not fully express how much I love the chapter art that @optomisticgirl did for this. It was the first piece she made, and I was just blown away the minute I saw it! So be sure to go over to her blog and like and reblog because she deserves all the love!

Here is her other chapter art for this story:Two Four Five Six Seven Nine

Summary: Dance is more than Emma Swan’s career; it’s practically saved her life on more than one occasion. But when it comes to reality TV shows, she’s always danced in the shadows of her twin brother David and her sister Elsa. Her first season as a pro on Dancing With the Stars was a disaster, and she enters her second season determined to prove herself. All she needs is a good partner. Hollywood bad boy and ladies’ man Killian Jones isn’t what she had in mind.

Rating: M for mature themes, steamy dance routines, and sexy times (But NOT smut)

Trigger warnings: discussions of online solicitation of a minor, bullying, statutory rape, and emotionally abusive/controlling relationships; stalking; anti-Rumbelle, anti-Neal

Can also be read on Ao3

Tagging: (let me know if you want to be added to my tag list) @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @jennjenn615 @kday426 @bethacaciakay @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @winterbaby89 @followbatb @onceuponaprincessworld @hollyethecurious @ohmakemeahercules

Chapter Eleven: Dark Waltz

Emma was a nervous wreck arriving at the studio to rehearse with Killian. She wasn’t sure how she should handle the gossip. Should she bring it up? Would he? Should she just pretend not to know and ignore it? Would it make things awkward between them? Killian was always flirting with her, trying to get her to open up, but he had never actually asked her out or made a move. She liked things where they were: friendship with innocent flirting. She didn’t want those stupid pictures to mess up the delicate balance they had struck.

But when she stepped off the elevator on the top floor, the sound of loud shouting from the studio at the end of the hall had all thoughts of paparazzi pushed from her mind. She raced down the hall, along with several other celebs and pro dancers towards the room where Jefferson and Belle rehearsed. Emma was shocked to find Robert Gold on the floor, Liam Jones on top of him. Killian was trying to pull his brother off as he threw punches at the older man. Belle was crying and begging Liam to stop. Finally, Jefferson and Graham joined Killian and the three of them managed to pull Liam back and calm him down. Security then rushed in and ushered Liam, Gold, and Belle out of the room. Jefferson followed along with his partner.

Once they had gone, Emma turned to Killian in shock. “What the hell was that all about?”

Killian ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Apparently Gold has been stalking Belle. Liam came to bring her coffee this morning, and he caught Gold in here with her. Liam said he was touching her somehow, but my brother wasn’t exactly focusing on talking, if you know what I mean.”

Emma’s forehead wrinkled in concern. “Poor Belle.” She reached out and laid a hand on Killian’s arm. He was clearly agitated. “Security will sort it all out, okay? We’ve had crazy shit happen before, believe me.”

“I’m sure you’re right. I just hope Belle’s okay. She has such a kind heart, and she’s good for my brother. I’d hate for him to have to go home so soon over all this.”

Emma just rubbed his arm in silence for a moment. “Do you want to cancel our rehearsals for today? Go make sure Liam’s alright?”

Killian shook his head. “We’ve missed so much rehearsal time already. And aren’t we choreographing the group number this afternoon?”

He had a point, so despite Killian’s obvious worry, they headed back to their usual studio. They jumped right into their waltz, working hard all morning. It seemed to calm Killian to have something to focus on. In the midst of everything, Emma never did bring up the TMZ pictures.

******************************************************

Emma and Killian had been teamed up with two athletes for the group dance: figure skater Aurora Briar who danced with Sean Herman, and NFL football player Lance Knight who was partnered with Gwen Pendragon. They had to dance to the song “Somebody That I Used to Know” by Goyte. Gwen had been on the show almost since the beginning, and kind of took charge. Emma wanted to do a vampire themed paso doble, but Gwen decided that they would do a dance patterned more after the song’s music video. So the number ended up being a combination of a tango and a modern piece, and the story was about three widowers looking at the paintings of their deceased wives. The paintings came to life, and the dance ensued.

Killian argued that after Emma’s incredible choreography with “Heart Shaped Box,” she should have more say. But Emma pulled him aside to talk him down.

“This is supposed to be fun,” she hissed at him.

“Your idea was way better, Swan,” he argued, “and the judges still score this dance.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Emma told him, “but Gwen’s been on this show for a really long time. She’s already won the mirror ball twice and gotten three Emmy nominations for her choreography.”

Killian’s jaw clenched. Lance teasingly asked if they were finished kissing in the corner. Emma turned bright red, thinking back to those TMZ pictures they had never discussed.

“Shut up, Lance!” Emma shot back.

Killian deflated and gave Emma a sheepish smile as he scratched behind his ear.

“Sorry, love, I just see so much talent in you. I hate to see it underappreciated.”

Emma felt her heart soar at his words. She had worked so hard for so many years, yet always felt under other people’s shadows. Namely her brother’s and her sister’s. The fact that Killian saw so much in her was both encouraging and terrifying.

They went back to the rest of the group, and Killian behaved himself. He and Aurora were the stronger celebs when it came to picking up the choreography, but Lance was determined, as athletes usually were on the show. Killian provided good balance for the two intense competitors, getting both Aurora and Lance to laugh and enjoy the group dynamic. Emma marveled at his ability to get along with everyone so easily. She wished she had that quality.

The rest of the days leading up to the Halloween episode flew by. They filmed the requisite clips of their team trash-talking the other one and pretending to “spy” on the other group’s rehearsals. In the frenetic pace of everything, those pictures on TMZ never came up. Even the media seemed to lose interest as news that Belle French had put out a restraining order on Robert Gold consumed everyone’s attention. Killian had been worried that Gold would press assault charges against his brother, but when the obsessive content of the man’s texts and emails to Belle became public, the billionaire had other things on his mind. And Emma hated herself for even thinking it, but part of her was glad that the drama with Gold would be at the forefront of everyone’s minds in the studio come Monday afternoon.

*****************************************************

Emma and Killian, for the first time all season, were scheduled to dance first for the Halloween episode. The set department, like every Halloween, had outdone themselves. Emma had asked for a graveyard, and they had delivered. A black iron gate flanked the dance floor, and in between were an assortment of tombstones. Dry ice sent fog billowing throughout the scene.

“Did they have to use my actual name?” Killian whispered in her ear as she took her place in front of the largest of the tombstones. It read in large, block letters: “Killian Jones.”

Emma just shrugged at him. “Better you than me,” she teased, “now go find your mark.”

He squeezed her hand before walking to the other side of the dance floor and taking his place behind one of the iron gates. The premise of their dance was fairly simple: Emma was a bride widowed on her wedding day. The costume department had made her a gorgeous lace wedding gown that was tattered and stained with blood. Black roses adorned her hair, which was down in a messy mass of curls. Killian, the deceased groom, was dressed in a tux that was in similar shape, and the makeup department had rubbed his skin with white foundation. But the truly gruesome part were the bloody wounds they had added to his face.

“The makeup team sort of knocked the handsome out of me,” he had joked to Emma when she first saw him.

Emma had just shaken her head and laughed. “No make-up artist is that good.” She swore she could see him blush through his heavy foundation.

The video package this week was fairly innocuous. It focused more on the storyline of their dance and silly Halloween jokes than on the actual content of their rehearsals. As it wound to a close, Emma knelt before the tombstone, a black rose in her hand. Camera angles would make it appear to the viewing audience at home that Killian’s ghost appeared out of nowhere to dance with her.

The strains of “Dark Waltz” by Hayley Westenra began to play as Emma set the rose on top of the tombstone. As she always did when performing, Emma reached deep inside of her, to emotions that she normally kept buried. My character has lost her lover, Emma lectured herself internally, She’s alone and grieving.

Later, Emma would try to pinpoint exactly what opened the floodgates of pain, but she could never decide if were the first melancholy notes of music or the gentle touch of Killian’s hand on her shoulder. Whatever it was, she danced the waltz with a raw emotion she had never experienced before. It wasn’t just the grieving widow who was desperate to hold onto her lover, it was Emma as well. Killian fed off her energy, and they both grasped for one another in an almost desperate way. It was truly a dark waltz, just like the song said.

At the end, when Emma spun back around to find Killian’s “ghost” suddenly gone, her own choreography called for her to collapse to the ground in grief. It didn’t, however, call for tears. Yet they came anyway. Something about the character being so utterly, completely alone - abandoned forever -tore at Emma in a way she couldn’t explain. Emma choked, attempting to hold the tears at bay, yet they streamed down her face anyway. She put a trembling hand to her mouth, taking deep breaths through her nose, but they wouldn’t stop. Soon, Killian was there, helping her up to her feet. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest where her tears wet his shirt.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, making no move to steer her towards the judges.

Emma took a long, shaky breath and nodded as the tears finally stopped flowing. She gave Killian a wobbly smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He gave her a gentle smile in return, reaching up to brush her tears away with his knuckles. “Are you sure, love?”

She nodded, her cheeks flooding with heat. She turned towards the judges with shaky steps, Killian’s arm a strong support at her waist. The judges and most of the audience were on their feet. Marco asked her a question – something about her emotions - and she stumbled over some kind of answer about being swept away by the story. She wasn’t entirely sure due to the roaring in her ears. She barely registered what any of the judges said. Tiana had to deduct points for an illegal lift, but otherwise, the feedback was positive. Upstairs, the roaring in her ears continued as Ashley interviewed them. It mostly consisted of Ashley marveling over Killian’s disturbing makeup. Emma had a feeling her partner was trying to intentionally pull the attention away from her and her emotional outburst because he laughed and teased Ashley for several minutes about his fake bloodied face. Then the scores were announced: two tens and a nine. Emma was still numb as Killian grabbed her in a tight hug, pulling her up off her feet. The second Ashley announced a commercial break, Emma dashed for the backstage area, ripping off her mic as she went.

Emma found a corner behind the plywood sets and lowered herself shakily to the cold concrete floor. She pulled her knees to her chest and buried her face in the circle of her arms. She felt the black roses atop her head slip down over one ear.

“Please mates,” she heard Killian’s voice behind her, “give her some bloody privacy.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder, and thinking back to the start of their dance, shuddered at his touch. “I sent the camera guys away,” he told her softly, “so if you want to tell me what happened out there –“

“No,” Emma cut him off, “I don’t.”

“I’d like to help –“

“Killian,” she snapped, “leave me alone. Please.”

She heard him release a long sigh, then his hand slipped from her shoulder. It fell silent around her again, and she assumed he had done as she had asked. Then a hand touched her elbow.

“Damn it, Killian, I said –“ Emma’s words died on her lips when she lifted her face to see her brother kneeling beside her. “Oh,” she muttered sheepishly, pushing hair out of her face, “I didn’t know it was you.”

David shifted so he was sitting on the floor next to her, his arm around her. Emma sagged against him, resting her head on his shoulder like she used to when she was a kid. For several minutes, they just sat there. Ariel appeared at the far end of the corridor, her silhouette outlined by the stage lights behind her.

“David, we’ve got a troupe dance in five!”

“Gimme a minute!” he snapped back in irritation. Ariel shrugged and headed back towards the stage.

Emma dug an elbow into her brother’s ribs. “You better get going.”

David made no move to leave. Finally, he leaned over and whispered against her hair. “It was about Neal, wasn’t it?”

Emma stiffened.

“You don’t have to be so tough, Emma,” he told her gently.

“I know what you’re going to say,” Emma groaned, “and the last thing I want to do is talk about this on some therapist’s couch.”

David actually chuckled. “Oh, I think Mom and I have given up on trying to get you to do that. But you know, you’ve got a family of four people. Five, if you count Mary Margaret, which she would. And not one of us would mind being a shoulder to cry on or a listening ear. We may not be a conventional family, but we all love you.”

“David, come on!” It was now Ruby shouting for her brother.

“Go,” she told him, giving him a shove, “before you get fired.”

He kissed the top of her head and left her. Emma yanked the crown of depressing flowers off her head and threw them aside. Black roses. No wonder it brought back memories of Neal.

**************************************************

It was past two in the morning, and Emma couldn’t sleep. And after how the show ended today, she desperately needed to. The results had been a shock to everyone: no one had been eliminated. In retrospect, Emma should have seen it coming. The producers hadn’t given the pros even a hint of what the theme was for the week. Turned out, it was one that always proved dramatic: partner switch week. Instead of dancing with Killian, she had been paired with baseball player August Booth. Emma groaned as she stirred her hot chocolate. Baseball players were notoriously stiff dancers. It could be Leroy all over again. At least the guy was attractive.

Emma shuffled over to the couch and settled down with a heavy quilt draped across her legs. She took a sip of her cocoa as she sagged against the cushions. Retrospection wasn’t one of Emma’s strengths, but she attempted to at least pin down what was bothering her. Knowing she had to dance with a new partner was stressful, so it could be that. Or maybe it was the second dance she would have to do with Killian: a dance off against Elsa and Graham of all couples. They were definitely going for drama next week, that was for sure.

Then Emma remembered her embarrassing meltdown on a live television show. She set down her mug and buried her head beneath the covers. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t sleep because her emotions were too close to the surface. Fear and pain that she had pushed aside for ten years had come bubbling up without warning. Why now?

Emma’s phone, which was lying on the coffee table, lit up with a text message. She snatched it up, curious as to who would be contacting her at such an ungodly hour. She blinked to see a message from Killian.

I’m outside, but I didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Emma’s brow furrowed in surprise. Everything okay?

I’m actually here because I’m worried YOU aren’t okay.

Emma let out a long breath. She gnawed on her lower lip, considering, then rose from the couch with the quilt still wrapped around herself. She opened the door to see Killian on the other side, his gaze hesitant. She was surprised to see him in a baseball cap.

“How did you even know I would be up?” she whispered.

He shrugged. “Lucky guess? You seemed pretty shaken up today.” He shuffled his feet, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “And I couldn’t sleep either.”

Emma gave him a teasing smile. “That worried about switching partners?”

He smiled back. “Maybe I am. I’m sure Jasmine is a fine dancer, but there’s only one Emma Swan.”

Emma felt inexplicably shy all of a sudden, standing there in her plaid pajamas with a ratty old quilt draped over her shoulders. She cleared her throat awkwardly. “Look, Killian, everyone’s asleep –“

“I know,” he interrupted quickly, “I was wondering if you’d come with me.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Not really in the mood for partying.”

He shook his head, his eyes sparkling. “I had something else in mind. You can even stay in your PJs, and . . . are those wookie slippers?”

Emma chuckled as she shuffled her feet, “A Christmas present from Henry.”

“Ah, I see.” She suddenly realized that Killian himself was in a long sleeve tee and jeans, in addition to the cap. It was the most casual she had ever seen him.

“Um,” Emma mumbled, letting go of one end of the quilt so she could tuck her wayward hair behind her ears, “I’ll go change. Just wait here.”

Emma quickly threw on a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt, then pulled her hair into a messy ponytail. She slipped into a pair of flip flops, joined Killian outside, and they headed downstairs to his car.

“Never seen you in a hat,” she commented.

He shrugged. “I didn’t want any more pictures getting out.”

Emma felt herself blush as he opened his car door for her. “So you saw those.”

“Aye,” he said as he slid behind the driver’s wheel, “I’ve gotten used to that sort of thing, but I know you’re not. I hope you weren’t too upset by it.”

“I was at first, but nothing came of it, so . . . “ Emma trailed off, unsure what else to say. The pictures honestly seemed like a whole lot of nothing compared to the memories that wouldn’t quit invading her mind since their waltz that afternoon. Silence settled between them, but not an uncomfortable one. Emma leaned her head against the window, looking up at the hazy LA sky.

“I just want you to know,” Killian said softly, “that I’m doing this as a friend. I can tell your heart is troubled, and I’d like to help if I can.”

Emma turned to examine his profile as he concentrated on driving. She pulled her knees to her chest as she took in the sincerity of his expression. Neal had made her cynical, untrusting, and yet here she was driving through LA with an actor of all people at 2:30 in the morning. She closed her eyes and waited for the panic to set in. She was shocked when it never came.

The rest of the twenty minute drive was a quiet one. Finally, Killian pulled up to a marina on the coast where a row of sleek yachts were moored. Emma got out, eager to feel the sea breeze on her face. Killian came to walk beside her, resting his hand at the small of her back to guide her up the pier.

“You have a boat?”

“Aye,” Killian answered, stopping in front of a yacht with gold trim and the name The Jewel of the Realm painted on the side in navy blue, “and here she is.”

“She’s not The Jolly Roger?” Emma teased as he helped her on board.

“No, but Jewel of the Realm,” he replied, emphasizing the first letters, “see what I did there?”

Emma nodded, “I get it.”

“Now, Swan,” Killian told her, guiding her up a ladder to a deck area on top of the yacht, “I want you to relax while I get us out a little ways from shore.”

Emma looked at the pile of cushions and blankets artfully scattered around. She arched a brow at Killian. “Are you trying to seduce me?”

Killian reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his expression earnest. “I meant what I said in the car. I find the sea calming. That’s all I want to give you, Emma. A little bit of peace from your troubles. If I can.”

Emma swallowed nervously, taking a quick step back. She hadn’t been expecting him to sidestep such an open invitation to an innuendo. This kind offering of friendship was almost harder to deal with than his flirting. Emma masked her discomfort with a joke. “Well that’s good because I may just fall asleep.”

Killian ducked his head with a soft chuckle. “If so, then my work here is done.”

He turned to go down to the wheel, but Emma stopped him. “Wait. You – you’ll come back up in a few minutes, right?”

He smiled softly. “Aye, love, as soon as I lay anchor.”

Once he had left, Emma sank down to the cushions and drew a blanket around herself. The air here on the water was a bit chillier than in the city. She leaned back, tilting her head up to look at the sky. As they headed farther out to sea, she could see stars twinkling overhead. Killian was right; it was calming. The rocking of the boat and the repetitive whooshing sound of the water caused Emma to drift off for a moment. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when the cutting of the engine and a loud splash awakened her. Killian came back up the ladder, smiling softly at her as he settled in next to her. They both lay there, looking up at the clear night sky. Killian said nothing, and Emma appreciated the silence. When she finally spoke, she could only manage a whisper.

“His name was Neal.”

Killian turned to look at her, “Henry’s father?”

Emma nodded, looking away from his gaze and up at the stars instead. “I was sixteen when I met him online. I had a MySpace page, and that’s where we started talking. He said he was eighteen.” Emma fiddled with the edge of the blanket across her lap. “I was young and stupid, shared too much personal information. He wanted to come to one of my dance competitions.” Emma let out a long, shaky breath. “That’s when I found out he wasn’t eighteen.”

Still Killian didn’t speak, but he brushed his hand against hers. Emma grasped it, threading her fingers with his like they always did on the dance floor.

“He was twenty-five,” Emma continued. She chanced a glance at Killian, but his only reaction was a slight clenching of his jaw. “Anyway, Ingrid never knew he was at that competition. He made me promise not to tell anyone about him. He said people wouldn’t understand. He kissed me and told me I was beautiful. Said that watching me dance was mesmerizing. I convinced myself it was love.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “You don’t have to tell me anymore if you don’t want to,” he told her softly.

“No,” she said in a shaky voice, “I want to. I need to.” The next part was the hardest to tell. “It was always at my competitions that we would meet. This went on for a year. When I was seventeen, he asked me for a dance lesson. So I snuck out of my hotel room where the competition was being held . . .“

Suddenly, Emma felt as if a weight had settled on her chest. She sat up, struggling to breath. Killian sat next to her, rubbing her back soothingly. She put her head between her knees, breathing in through her nose, and out through her mouth, the way Ingrid had taught her.

“Did he rape you?” Killian asked gently.

Emma shook her head as she let out a long, cleansing breath. “No, but it was the night I lost my virginity. Like I said, I thought it was love. After that, he . . . changed. He became more demanding of my time, more intrusive, more critical. It became harder and harder to hide things from Ingrid, but Neal kept saying that she would never understand the way he loved me. But Ingrid knew something was wrong. I was skipping rehearsals, my grades were dropping, I was tired all the time. She and I were always fighting. It was the same with David and my sisters. I started pulling away from them. Neal encouraged it. Only now can I see that he wasn’t who he said he was.”

By the time Emma finished, tears were pouring down her face. She turned towards Killian, who let her fall against his chest as ugly sobs tore at her. She hadn’t cried like this in over ten years. His arms tightened around her.

“I’m so sorry, Emma,” he told her brokenly. “Does he know about Henry?”

Emma pulled back, rolling her eyes as she scrubbed at her tear-stained cheeks. “Why do you think he disappeared? I told him I was pregnant, and that was it. I couldn’t reach him; not online, not by phone. It was like he took what he wanted from me, and when things got complicated, just like that, he was gone.”

Killian said nothing, putting his arm around her again and drawing her close. She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to the soothing sounds of the water.

“I guess, that dance. . . Neal left me broken. Somehow, I tapped into that pain today.”

Killian still didn’t let her go, and Emma felt herself go limp against him. She had never felt so safe in a man’s arms before. “Did he go to jail?” Killian asked.

“No,” Emma breathed out shakily, “I was so freaked out, it was weeks before I told Ingrid about the baby. By then, I had deleted my MySpace page. I just wanted to erase him from my life. Maybe his name wasn’t even Neal. Who knows?”

“But you didn’t let him stop you from dancing. You are so strong, Emma Swan.”

“And I have Henry,” she added, a wistful smile spreading across her face. “Being a dancer, and young, I was pretty far along before I knew about him. When I saw his little hands and feet on that ultrasound, I knew I could never give him up.”

“Does he know?”

Emma nodded. “I’ve always tried to be honest with him; explaining things as he was old enough to understand them. And he’s had a heck of an internet safety talk, believe me. Multiple times.”

“He’s a tough lad,” Killian said, “like his mother.”

Emma pulled away from Killian’s embrace, brushing at tendrils of hair that had stuck to her wet cheeks. “Ugh. I’m not acting so tough right now.”

“I disagree, Emma,” Killian told her, “I’ve never seen such strength.”

#csbb #csbb fic #csbb 2018 #cs ff #cs modern au #dancing with the stars au #enemies to friends to lovers #Natural Opposite #searching wardrobes

[gripefroot]

Scene You Later

Bucky’s scream echoed through at least three floors of Avengers Tower. 

Had he known it elicited only chuckles and sniggers from his so-called friends lounging around elsewhere, his embarrassment would have been a thousand times more burning - or is that the pain throbbing in his ear? But regardless, his teary-eyed sniffles are contained behind the closed door of his girlfriend’s bathroom, where her eyes glint with glee as she wipes a courtesy antiseptic wipe around the new piercing, despite there being no chance whatsoever of Bucky getting an infection. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve done this,” 28 says with a fond pat of his cheek, turning away to refill the piercing gun lying on the bathroom counter - and it gives him a deeper shudder than any rifle or shotgun. “Thank you for letting me practice on you.”  

“Did I have a choice?” Bucky's eyes are still watering, and his voice comes out more strained and cracking than he’d like - it’s a good thing he’d been able to glower Sam and 41 away from watching at the door before this had started.  

“Sure!” A beaming smile as she turns, wielding that gun in a way that would make him laugh any other day, but as the nerves continue to cry with pain - this is as bad as a gunshot! - he just cringes, and clenches his fingers into fists on his knees. And though the sight of her pretty, though mildly terrifying face, would lend some comfort - Bucky squeezes his eyes shut, too, and holds his breath as he feels the piercing gun align with the next marked position in the top cartilage of his ear.  

Thunk.  

“Ahhh!” 

She’s trying to be sympathetic - really, she is - he can see the tremoring sympathy in her eyes through blinked back tears. But he can hear her suppressed snicker, too, as she quickly whisks a tissue towards him, which he takes to dab at his watering eyes.  

“I’d rather be stabbed,” Bucky says woefully.  

“Technically, you are being stabbed,” 28 chirps. “But on purpose.”  

“Maybe that’s what makes it worse.”  

“We can study that sometime. I’m sure that’s the scientific data Stark would love to see.”  

Bucky wants to laugh. Really, he does - he even tries, but the noise strangles in his throat before he blows his nose, and lobs the crumbled tissue right into the garbage can. A clean shot. But he’s too miserable to gloat. His ears feel as though they’re on fire.  

“Last one,” 28 tells him, and her smile is a little rueful. “Won’t be so bad. Just in the lobe.”  

No, it’s not so bad. He doesn’t yell. Just gritted teeth and a grunt, and a scowl at the shining silver stud, and she hums happily to herself as she cleans that with a smile, and backs up.  

“They look good,” she muses. “Turn towards me.” 

He does. Tries to smile, but grimaces.  

“It’s not enough,” she decides, nose wrinkled and brows knitted. Arms crossed as she studies him - and he studies her back, for distraction - those glowingly bare legs from a pair of shorts, a slip of black lace against her shoulders peeping from a loose shirt. He forgets the pain.  

“Are we sure these are going to heal?” Bucky asks.  

“Steve’s did, a few years back,” 28 says brusquely. “Took less than a day, if I remember correctly.” 

“Really? How many did he get?”  

She shrugs, indicating a forgotten number. “We did his nipples. That was fun.”  

“You did what - ” 

“But don’t worry.” A winning, feral smile. “That’s not for you. Not tonight, anyway. Yours will be covered. Mostly.”  

A small comfort - especially when she turns to rummage through a small box of piercings in various sizes. Some are genuinely frightening, though Bucky isn’t about to voice that fear. Though he does gulp, when she picks out two matching studs, and starts to put one in the gun.  

“How bad is it going to be?” he asks in a squeak.  

“Bad. Gird up your loins, buddy.”  

Her gentle fingers using a pen to mark two even spaces beneath his bottom lip isn’t so bad. Feels good, actually. But he knows what’s coming, and so he swallows hard. No more shouting, Barnes. This is nothing compared to what you’ve been through, you coward. No shouting. No -  

“Ughhh!”  

Not a shout. Just a groan that echoes in the bathroom, and he tastes blood.  

“One more,” 28 tells him bracingly, and he peeps open a glaring eye to see her smile. “One more, and we’re done for tonight.” 

“For tonight?”  

“Just one more!”  

Bucky hopes, in his heart of hearts, that Sam hadn’t suggested to the others that they listen at the door.  

“Done,” 28 announces, and he breathes through his mouth as she starts to clean up the mess on the counter. “Hopefully they’ll heal enough to look like they’ve been there a while by the weekend. And tomorrow we can do your tattoos and hair!” 

“My hair?” Bucky chokes. “Tattoos? Babe! What kind of mission is this?”  

“A sensitive one.” But she’s grinning over her shoulder, eyes raking over his face and lingering on his new...holes. “And you’re the only one that can take the lead. Steve’s done the grunge undercover before, but I’m telling you - it was not good.”  

“I’m not sure if that’s very complimentary,” he grumbles. Then stands, blood rushing to his head, and he bites his tongue as he folds up the chair to put away.  

“You’ll do great,” 28 promises, and arms full of things to take back to the underground costuming department, her hip bumps into his back end, and he forgets the pain again as the jolt brushes warmly against him through the thin fabric of his gym shorts. Now that the threat is over (for now) he can remember the sultry promise she’d whispered in his ear after the team meeting that morning, after he’d been assigned to this mission with only Agent 41 as backup (and maybe that’s part of his apprehension) - and he has a feeling that promise might be coming to pass sooner rather than later. 

Yes, he can get over the stinging pain of his new ear and lip decorations. He wonders if the lip piercings will affect...ah, his performance in certain activities.  

“I’ll be back.” And the door is left swung open as she wanders for the elevator, humming her song.  

Be back. She’ll be back. Bucky stares after her for a minute more, and then rushes down the hall to put the folding chair away in a well-known (and thoroughly desecrated) storage closet. He’s even cheery enough to whistle, on his way, thinking of lighting some candles and maybe a spray of that cologne she likes so much… 

But his whistling falls flat, and his tongue finds the inside stud of the piercings below his lips. With a grimace he shoulders the door shut, and brings up his fingers to touch the cool metal.  

He can already imagine Sam’s laughing face. Now you’re even more tin, Tin-man!  

To distract himself, he brushes his teeth (gingerly), and without looking in the mirror. Then finds the few candles 28 keeps in a dresser drawer to spread out and light to flicker gently around the room. She’s still not back by then, so Bucky doffs his shirt to throw into the laundry for good measure. Stretching out on the bed, he stifles a yawn, weaving his hands behind his head. Then he flops onto his side to face the door, hoping he looks as seductive as she does when she lays out like this.  

A knock at the door crawls pleasantly over his skin - wondering why she’s bothering with this unnecessary formality, Bucky calls out a warm, “Come in!” before threading his fingers through the loose ends of his hair in some attempt at casual sexiness, like he’s seen movie stars do.  

But it’s not 28 that peeks through the door, and his gut plummets to his feet.  

“Whee!” Sam is howling, his wrist snaking through the crack, phone in hand, and Bucky’s heart nearly stops in horror as he hears a tell-tale click! Beneath Sam’s face is 41, staring with her eyes wide and mouth open, and then Clint in the lowest position of this totem from hell, looking gleeful in a way that Bucky knows he’s going to have his work cut out for him regaining his reputation.  

“Get out!” he shouts, but it’s too little too late. The damage is done, and the door already snapped shut as the pillow he launches from the bed bounces harmlessly off the wall, a sad trophy of his indignity. Unfortunately the enormous scowl on his face has pulled painfully against the new piercings, and his mouth throbs - tenderly he touches them again as he falls back against the pillows, all hope of sexiness gone.  

It’s to that pathetic scene 28 returns: sliding through the door with a whiff of perfume, and after locking the door she pauses to pick up the fallen pillow, fluffing it with a solid punch.  

“I brought supplies for tomorrow,” she tells him, and Bucky grunts as the pillow is thrown into his gut. Meanwhile, the sound of boxes and other things being dumped in the bathroom, and how on earth can she still be so happy when he feels so miserable?  

Silhouetted in the candlelight, she draws his attention: arms crossed, that same studying expression that she’d worn earlier - but now it’s softened and sweetly sly, and her lips are twitching.  

“Go on,” he sighs. “Go ahead and laugh.”  

“I can’t laugh at you,” 28 tells him. Maybe a little rueful. “Oh, Buck - you look so miserable!” 

“Sam got a picture,” Bucky admits grudgingly.  

“Oh, dear. Should we hack into his phone tonight to erase it instead of…?” 

That piques his interest. Propping himself on an elbow, a flutter of life in his chest, he stares at his lover with growing eagerness. “You know...” he drawls at last, and he feels a grin coming on. “Bet we have time for both.”  

“What should we do first?” 28 asks, and her question is coy and taunting.  

“Hmm,”  Bucky pretends to think. “Sam could save it or send it before we get to it.” 

“True.”  

“But…is he really as important as this?” Waggling fingers between them, with a suggestive wiggle of his brows. 28 bursts out laughing, and the sound is music, and her movements are music, too, as she saunters over with those eyes reflecting the light of a dozen candles.  

“Glad you think we’re important,” she coos, and leans over like a shadow. But her eyes are on his lips, and then her thumb is there, tracing the curve - and her eyes narrow. “I wonder what it’ll be like to kiss you.” 

“Only one way to find out. C’mere, babe - let me pay you back for the stand-up job you did on my face, crazy girl.” 

~

All the buoyant happiness and confidence, on lend from his other half, disappear within ten minutes of the mission.  

It’s the itchy fishnet sleeves of his shirt - if it can even be called that - and the sweltering, too-tight strain of his leather pants. It’s the stink of perfumes and bodies and alcohol and fried food. It’s the music playing so loud and with bass so deep that Bucky’s sure his bones are going to be rattled out of his body. And it’s not knowing the reflection he catches sight of above the bar - teal hair and thick eyeliner, absurd clothes, but at least his scowl is in character - or so 28 had said, laughing her pretty head off before he’d stalked out of the Tower.  

At least 41 is having the time of her life. Then again, with her cotton-candy-swirl hair and bouncing along to the music on the dancefloor, eyes closed in bliss despite that she’s likely deaf already - she seems to be fitting in perfectly.  

“Target just entered the building,” says a voice in his ear - Bucky isn’t sure he’d heard right at first - so he taps the comm device for clarification, and with a sigh Clint says, more loudly, “The target, Barnes! Your four o’clock. Get her.”  

Get her, Bucky grumbles to himself, but swivels on his barstool to glare out moodily (but casually!) in the direction he can see the target approaching the bar - red and black hair, heels that look like they could kill someone (and according to reports, they have), and a nose ring that reminds him of a Spanish bull. Go on and get her, Barnes. I’ll just stay out here in the Quinjet with my ears still in working order and tell you what to do. Hey, don’t go through a metal detector! 

And just his luck - the target sits in the stool next to him, with an interested once-over, and trying not to sigh aloud, Bucky turns back, casting her a smile as sly as he can manage.  

She returns the smile with another appraising flicker of the eyes, and then looks away to wave over the bartender.  

“Can I get you something, Beast Boy?” 

“Huh?” 

“Something to drink.” Then to the bartender, more loudly to be heard over the pulsing music, “Cosmo.” And the target’s eyes go back to Bucky, waiting.  

“Uh, whiskey, neat.”  

The bartender nods, and goes.  

“Is that how you picked up 28?” Clint asks in Bucky’s ear, and his hair stands on end as he licks his lips, the target turning slightly to face him with a smile that radiates ferality, but not in a good way. “Dude. I thought she had higher standards than that.” 

Bucky files away a determination to give Clint a good, old-fashioned bloody nose. But later.  

“I saw the way you were looking at me.” The target leans close, ruby-red lips too close to his ear for comfort - oh, that’s his personal space - but he doesn’t recoil, and forces himself to smile back.  

“Didn’t realize I was being so obvious,” he rasps back.  

“Oh, you were.” Her eyes glitter. They look black, but not a cozy black. And not the kind of glitter that he knows from you - this woman is all the lethality that 28 has, but all wrong. Out of time. Crooked. Dark. Corrupt.  

“Wow, she’s playing you like a fiddle,” Clint observes. “Let her keep playing. The FBI is on their way.”  

Idly Bucky wonders if 41 had even noticed the target. He doubts it. 

Scarlet-painted fingernails curl over his knee. He doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close call. Instead lets his own gaze drift over the target’s face (without shuddering, because her rap sheet is easy to recall when he’s within arms-reach), and her lips curl into a deeper, more frightening smile.  

“Here are your drinks!” chirps a voice.  

Bucky nearly falls out of his chair, vice-like grip on his knee or no. Because sliding two drinks on black napkins across the bar, absolutely beaming with plum-purple lipstick and a nose ring - is the only woman he wants to let touch him.  

The target slides a bill to 28, who takes it with a wink and a snap of bubble gum before disappearing around another bartender.  

“So,” the target says, and lifts her drink to her lips for a sip, and Bucky remembers that he has a whiskey. “A bright fella like you got a name?”

“Tom,” Bucky tells her.  

“Tom.” Her eyebrow quirks. “I like it.”  

“Thanks, it’s from my mom.”  

“You’ve been spending too much time with 28,” Clint complains. “Target’s not gonna take you seriously if you keep - ” 

“My name is Nova,” the target leans close again, with fruity breath. “My daddy gave it to me.”  

Bucky hears Clint gagging, and wishes he could do the same.  

“He’s over there,” she continues, nodding her head towards the door - Bucky turns, a knot of apprehension in his stomach, to see a massive, balding man staring stonily in their direction. As soon as he sees he has Bucky’s attention, he lifts the corner of his blazer to give a peek of a gun holster.  

Just one gun? He’d laugh if he could feel a shred of humor in the circumstances. 

“He won’t hurt you,” Nova purrs, and Bucky shivers - but thankfully, she mistakes his revulsion for interest. “Let me go to the little girls’ room for a minute, and I’ll take you home. I want to play.”  

He manages to nod, sipping his whiskey but his throat is already dry - and some instinct in his head is screaming at the top of its lungs: Get out of there!  

“ETA ten minutes,” Clint reports, as Nova winds her way through the crowd. Bucky doesn’t miss that she appraises several other clubbers - it’s a wonder that he’d gotten her attention, really.  

“Not soon enough,” Bucky grunts for Clint’s benefit.  

“Tough night?”  

Oh, that’s a pretty sound - and a welcome one. Tension dissipates from his shoulders as he hunches over the bar, catching sight of 28, just a step away, cleaning out glasses with pursed lips and laugh lines. But her gaze is tinged with sympathy, at least. And what is she wearing - more fishnets? A choker necklace? And a violently-violet wig that suits her better than he would have expected... 

“It’ll be over soon,” Bucky sighs. “Who let you come here, anyway?” 

“Steve and I had a chat,” she smiles, and sets a clean glass back in a neat row behind the bar. “He felt sorry for you. I was bored. We struck a deal.” 

“Deal?” 

“I come to keep an eye on you and Tiny Dancer,” 28 nods towards 41, but appears more amused by that situation than anything. “And...Steve gets to take all four of us on a run tomorrow morning.” 

“What!” Clint’s outburst over the comm makes it squeal, and Bucky flinches at the noise. “Why am I part of the deal?” 

“Because you, Robin Hood, have been watching 41 instead of the exits,” 28 tells him sweetly, tilting her head to address him in her own comm device. “The FBI won’t be getting in here alive.” 

Bucky’s stomach sinks. And he glances over towards the bathrooms - no sign of Nova. No sign of - of her daddy, either. He cringes.  

“But,” 28 adds, with a bright smile, and the next time she leans over to pick up a glass Bucky can see - there’s a fake tattoo beneath that choker necklace. Far below. Wait, is she just wearing a bra -  

Temptress, the tattoo says in bold script. How apt.  

“I will be heading out for the pregame,” she tells them. “As soon as your girlfriend is back from the potty. Just be aware, in case I don’t come back alive.” 

“I think it would take more than a couple backdoor thugs to take you out,” Clint says dully. 

“Why thank you, Clint, that’s very sweet of you.”  

“Five minutes ‘til the Feds show.”  

“And here’s our main star now,” 28 says brightly. “Wish me luck, fellas.”  

Bucky tries not to watch her go - drags his eyes back to the nefarious Nova, instead, but the retreating back of his actual girlfriend, and the love of his life, is like a magnet. But, because he wants to go home, he forces himself to play the part, and doesn’t shiver too badly when Nova wraps herself around him upon return with a grin that frightens him.  

“Wanna dance first?” Her breath is hot in his ear, fingernails raking dangerously across the back of his neck beneath his teal hair, and he swallows. 

“Yeah. Definitely.” 

That’ll give 28 time to clear the exit, at least... 

As bad as forced flirting at the bar had been, dancing is worse. Evidently Nova is quite the handsy type, as Bucky suppresses his every instinct to run away to help 28 with her objective - and he can smell alcohol on the target’s breath, and how does she do anything with fingernails this long? And how is she still interested in him after beholding firsthand how he can’t even move his hips to the music correctly, as Clint gleefully points out (multiple times) over the comm. At least, that’s what he thinks Clint said - with the music thumping, it’s hard to be sure.  

“Clear!” comes 28’s panting voice, not nearly as soon as Bucky would have liked. “FBI just turned up, too. Wanna bring her out, Buck?”

Bucky leans forward with as sultry a smile as he can manage, and half-shouts into Nova’s ear, “Let’s head out.”  

“Don’t have to ask me twice.”  

“I hope Bucky isn’t too sad that his date is about to be arrested,” 28 goes on mournfully - probably for Clint’s benefit, as Clint starts to cackle, but Bucky just slings an arm around Nova’s shoulders to steer her towards the back, where he explains to her he has a motorcycle waiting. She seems to like that, with her hand pawing at the front of his chest as she lets him lead.  

“Seems to be plenty of other fish in the sea, as it were,” Clint says, wheezing slightly. “Bucky can just head back inside and find a new date. Did you see the girl in head-to-toe nylon?”  

“I did!” 28 chirps. “I stopped to ask her where she bought it. Very nice lady.”  

Bucky disguises a choke. Past the bar, past the bathrooms - the dingy, rust-colored door to the back alley is quiet, blooming under red lights with smears of paint on the walls. Tries to appear as though he’s enjoying the target’s teeth sinking into his ear, but he’s already planning a long, hot, and soapy shower.  

“Your place or mine?” Nova’s voice cloys in his ear.  

“Um - ” Bucky shoulders through the door, dragging her along by her waist -  

And into a waiting circle of FBI agents, flashing lights, and an unmarked van. Beside the van, Bucky’s happy to see, is the man termed Nova’s so-termed “daddy,” kneeling, cuffed, and bleeding slightly from a head wound. 28 stands smugly above him, arms crossed - and Bucky goes limp, staring at those fishnet stockings and - and - are those garters?  

Nova screeches, but she doesn’t stand a chance. Swarmed with officers, and coming out as tightly cuffed as the other man, and led away (despite that her screaming gets louder and louder) to the van, which is promptly opened, and she’s taken inside.  

“Not bad.”  

Now that’s a saunter Bucky will always love - he smiles at his girlfriend, who beams back before winding her arm through his - a much gentler, much more desired touch, as she leans her head against his shoulder, and the FBI agents start to mill away into their trucks and cars to head out of the alley.  

“I’ll never be the bait again,” Bucky vows.  

“You did good, though.” Eyes peer up at him, reflecting the flashing red and blue, but her smile is all sweet serenity, and he can’t help chortling, just a little bit.  

“We were lucky she took it.”  

“Well, I enjoyed the show,” Clint chimes in. “Now, which of you is going to go back inside and get 41 for me? She’s about to jump into a kiddie pool of glow stick juice.” 

[spaceorphan18]

Finding Kurt Hummel: Glease

Masterpost

4x06: Glease

Well -- we’re still amidst a ton of Klaine angst -- but we, thankfully, get to skip over other story lines I’m not as fond of such as; Marley’s eating disorder, the Newbies doing Grease, and Rachel/Brody/Finn/Cassie nonsense.  I will take Klaine angst any day. 

Role You Were Born to Play

So Kurt wasn’t in episode five, but there are still some things in this episode that I need to discuss.  

First of all -- we’re entering the part the main part of season 4, where Kurt just doesn’t get a lot exploration or commentary -- and therefore we get to fill in some of the blanks.  I’ll try to do my best at explaining what are facts and what are my own headcanon. 

Anyway -- there’s not a whole lot of Blaine in this episode either, but here are some things we learn: 

Kurt and Blaine already discussed spending the rest of their lives together.  I’m gonna guess this was as early as when they got together in season 2, back when Kurt said Blaine was on board going to New York with Kurt. 

They were going to move to Province Town and buy a lighthouse and start an artist colony.  Okay, they were weirdos. 

Kurt’s not talking to Blaine.  AT ALL.  It’s kind of implied over the next three episodes that after Blaine left the loft that morning, Kurt has done his best not to be in contact.  Which is a very Kurt-ish thing to do.  He doesn’t really face his problems head on.  He likes to avoid them, and ignore that he feels anything.  

Blaine has a Kurt scrapbook -- which most likely means that Kurt has a Blaine scrapbook.  They probably made these together.  

After looking at the still -- I noticed there some postcards, and I while I can’t really see what they say, I’m almost positive that they were from Kurt (it looks like his name) -- and, awww, bbs, Kurt sent Blaine postcards from NY!!

Sill in Mourning

So, like a good roommate -- Kurt’s helping Rachel prep for her Glass Menagerie audition.  This scene is really about Rachel and Cassie getting to spar once again, but I’m going to ignore most of that an concentrate on Kurt. 

First - I’d like to point out that Kurt’s looking disheveled and is wearing black.  Look, I know the narrative isn’t focused on Kurt, and is more interested in telling Blaine’s story, but I need to make this clear.  This break up -- fucking sucks for Kurt, too.  Breaking up with Blaine is not something he ever wanted or anticipated.  And dealing with the shock and the pain of what Blaine did is something he’s in the middle of doing right now --- even if we don’t get to see much of it. 

He’s putting /no/ effort into how he looks -- which is a big thing for Kurt.  He’s wearing sweats, for god’s sake, and doing really nothing about his hair.  And while I, shallowly, kinda like this look, it means that Kurt’s hurting so much he’s not concentrating (either) on things he loves.  The black, which he’s worn since that night at Callbacks, also, is something he’ll continue to wear until he and Blaine have their talk in Thanksgiving. And the black, very obviously, is for mourning.  He’s grieving the death of his relationship. 

So -- on to the plot -- Tina’s giving him updates on the play.  Why would he care? Why would Tina care to tell him about it? I have to wonder if Tina’s passive-aggressively trying to get him to talk to Blaine.  I wonder if he listens because there’s a part of him that, while I’m sure Tina’s bugging him, wants to know what’s going on. He may have cut Blaine off completely -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not willing to hear second hand details. 

So -- Cassie comes in with her abs and her ‘I don’t give a fuck’ attitude and tells them that if they still have baggage over their exes -- go home and fix it.  

Rachel, I should note, claims she has closure (well, you did get something at the end of that episode....) but is totally lying to herself about her feelings because she’s too busy pretending to be an adult and be fine with things that are not fine instead of dealing with her issues.  (That’s sorta her arc this season.) 

Meanwhile, though Kurt is at least admitting he’s not fine.  In fact, he’s not fine at all -- and when Cassie mentions having baggage and no closure, and when Rachel mentions she’s fine, Kurt gives her a look -- this look that says, I fucking do not have closure and am not fine and c’mon Rachel.... 

Kurt breaks down and decides he’s going.  He admits here that he hasn’t seen or talked to Blaine since that night -- and I’m guessing that any kind of closure now is better than what he’s going through.  He’s not sleeping (hey, didn’t someone else mention that in the previous episode?) -- and taking sleeping pills to force himself to sleep.  And watching The Notebook, over and over.  

And as I mentioned earlier -- it’s not just that this romantic relationship failed.  It’s not even that both Kurt and Blaine just lost their best friend.  They had their entire lives planned out, together, and now Kurt’s entire future (because he thought he was gonna go to NYADA, too) is out of whack -- and so not what he thought it was going to be.  

So -- Kurt wants to go back, because maybe-- just maybe seeing Blaine again won’t hurt so much.  Maybe they’ll be able to work something out.... 

Kurt what even are you doing, lol? I mean - I understand that you’re mirroring Cassie, but why? Do you want abs, too? 

I need to mention, though, that Kurt begs Rachel to go with him because he can’t go alone.  The thing is -- this stuff sucks -- and Kurt, while definitely trying to handle everything alone, is not doing a good job.  Rachel, right now, is his only real friend -- and adopting her attempt at shoving away her feelings and issues seems like something Kurt wants to try in order to not feel so much pain.  (Granted, this comes up more in Thanksgiving, but I thought I’d point it out here.) 

Making a Return

Kurt and Rachel return to Lima.  And this is the first time he’s come back since he left.  It’s always a little weird returning home, especially for the first time.  It’s the same, yet weirdly different.  Anyway -- Rachel’s all about her ego and Kurt’s like, ha, no, I’m nervous and anxious because I’m really here for Blaine, and idk how that’s gonna go. 

For nostalgia’s sake -- Rachel brings up the time that Kurt pretended to have a crush on her to get out of dating Mercedes.  So, did he tell her about that? Cause Rachel didn’t know at the time.  Anyway - this is all to lead up to the return of Mercedes.  

And it’s so nice to see Kurt light up when he sees her.  Life might suck at the moment, but seeing her is always a balm on his heart (at least in my interpretation.) 

Also, hilariously, Mercedes said that they should come back stage and see people, cause they’ll freak when they’re there.  Other than Finn and Blaine, who’s really gonna care that they’re there?  Lol...

This scene. Damn, this scene.  I don’t even know where to start.  

Can I say it’s pretty hilarious when Mercedes hightails it outta there.  She doesn’t want to have anything to do with that little mess of a group. 

Other than Blaine’s stutter at seeing Kurt, and saying he didn’t expect them there, there is /no/ dialogue between the two of them.  But the non-verbal communication is off the charts.  Finn and Rachel have a majority of the conversation here -- and I wish I had the After Elton review of this, but they summed it much better than I will -- but while Finchel is being somewhat petty with each other -- Kurt and Blaine are just having a really, really sad conversation with their eyes. 

Kurt keeps trying to look at Blaine -- and he can’t.  Because Blaine is so beautiful, and so lovely, and it fucking hurts to look him at because how could Blaine do such an awful thing to him. And how can he still have so many feelings, so many conflicting feelings.   (A side note - I am not letting Kurt off the hook for his part to play.  But in a way, he won’t really realize that until he breaks the relationship a few years from now.)  

And then there’s Blaine -- who is staring at him, with those sad, puppy dog eyes. And he’s so, so sorry.  

Kurt tries really, really hard to focus on the little Finchel drama going on.  Because ever time he sneaks a little peak at Blaine, it’s so much harder. 

There’s an interesting moment -- where Finn says they’re proud of the play, and Blaine puffs his chest a little -- like he is proud of what they’re doing, and he’s gonna try his best even though he’s breaking inside, too.  Kurt desperately tries to ignore that.  Blaine’s heart breaks a little more in that moment.  So does Kurt’s. 

I mean -- remember last year at this time? When Kurt was so proud of Blaine on that stage? And they were intimate for the first time afterwards? Yeah - like that isn’t in the back of their minds, too. 

I also want to give a shout out to the costume department.  Kurt dressed all in black, yet so pale looking.  While Blaine is in white -- Teen Angel ironically, though with such darker features.  They’re two sides of the same coin -- two parts of the same pair.  They’re matched up, even when they’re broken.  Oh, bbs <3 

Blaine gives one last lingering look to Kurt before he takes off.  And the minute he’s gone, Kurt begins to breath again.  And he nearly breaks down.  Because seeing Blaine again makes it almost worse.  It makes all these feelings even more real than they already were.  Blaine is still Blaine -- yet he is changed, and seeing him again doesn’t fix what happened.  

Rachel, who is better at masking her feelings, gives him a pep talk -- and he gives in to her -- cause it’s much easier to let someone else take control.  (Which is saying something -- because Kurt very much likes to be in control.) 

Performances

Blaine as Teen Angel is -- ironic on about hundred levels.  Here’s this a projection of a flawless and perfect prince for you Kurt -- and it’s a bit of a mockery.  (This scene is more for Blaine -- who, side stepping the fact that it wouldn’t be possible, sees Kurt in the audience and it causes him to falter.) But Kurt looks like he’s going to be sick during the whole thing.  Everything on that stage was something he believed in -- and everything is now a lie. 

As an aside -- though -- it’s actually a good thing that Blaine has slid off Kurt’s pedestal.  To actually really love someone, you need to see their dark side as well as the light, and love them anyway.  And Kurt will eventually come to the conclusion that he does. But, shattering this perfect image, and seeing the truth underneath, is not an easy thing to come to terms with. 

The look on Kurt’s face as Blaine gives one last dashing look before he leaves the stage.  Goodbye overly romanticized ideal of the man I loved.  You’re never gonna have that back, Kurt but that’s okay, I promise!! 

Man -- Kurt spends this entire episode nearly in tears but never really breaks down.  Kurt’s usually an easy crier.  But he’s doing his damnedest to control his feelings.  And it’s probably tearing him up inside. 

Kurt’s at least enjoying the play as a whole a little better. 

So -- we get this whole ‘You’re the One That I Want’ montage.  And, first I’m glad we’re skipping Marley’s eating stuff and Ryder kissing her to calm her down and a whole lot of no -- yuk.  Also, it’s fascinating to me how much better Finn and Rachel sound when they start singing opposed to Ryder and Marley. Also, also -- it cracks me up that they flashback to the pilot, and they still include Kurt’s WTF look in the flashback. Anyway, I digress.... 

Finchel has this little fantasy.  Who’s dreaming about the other couples? Who knows.  The point, though, is that the show is letting us know that despite being broken up -- all these couples still want each other.  

Well damn, Chris.  I mean...

You all have seen this scene gif’d a million times.  You know what the close ups look like (I can’t still it without it being awful.)  Kurt and Blaine dance with each other -- and it’s cute.  Watch for their background moments, because they’re goofing around when not in focus, and it’s adorable. 

Finchel Lite

So -- Finn and Rachel get this complex and length little scene that hits on a lot of points about their relationship.  And then Klaine gets thirty seconds.  Ug.  I’m not bitter at all....  But the a point I need to take from the Finchel-ness is that Rachel says that home no longer feels like home.  And Kurt doesn’t understand for another thirty seconds. 

Blaine wants to talk -- Kurt doesn’t.  Because Kurt’s in way too much pain to have any kind of rational conversation.  (And because Kurt tries not to have these hard conversations whenever possible...) 

But oh, Blaine -- you opened with the /wrong/ thing to talk about.  Kurt really, really doesn’t want to hear about details about what happened.  It doesn’t matter what actually happened, it’s the fact that it did that hurts Kurt so much.  As I said in the Break Up post -- it’s the fact that it happened at all that shatters Kurt.  And rehashing that isn’t going to help.  

The conversation here about trust is interesting.  Kurt is right, relationships are about trust.  Blaine didn’t trust his relationship enough.  Kurt trusted it too much -- and the thing is -- the real key here -- is that Kurt does whatever he can to shield himself in from pain and heartache.  He’s spent years shielding himself off from people who have kicked him when he’s down, and trying to show that he doesn’t care.  He’s spent years perfecting this perfect defense against his own emotions. 

And he let Blaine in.  He let Blaine into his heart, and let him see the most vulnerable parts of him.  And no one -- /no one/ had the ability to hurt Kurt as deeply as Blaine.  Because Kurt protects himself.  Except the one time he thought it would be okay to let his guard down, and his heart got stomped on in the worst way.  

The trust conversation doesn’t come back until the end of season five -- because yeah, it takes Kurt /that/ long to figure how how to trust Blaine again.  But also -- he’ll need to screw up the relationship, too, to fully understand.  But man - we have a bumpy ride to get to that point. 

Meanwhile - Kurt’s about to lose it, and he can’t stay any longer because he’ll be just a mess.  And he says that Rachel is right -- Blaine, who was one of the definitions of his home, feels the furthest thing from it.  

Kurt takes off with Rachel, and I’ll bet you anything, the minute they round that corner, Kurt, who’s tried so hard to control everything this entire episode, breaks down crying.  Oh bbs.  It gets better. 

So yeah -- that’s the episode.  And Kurt’s absent from episode 7 because it’s time to make Blaine become a real boy, and let him forgive himself.  These are tough times -- but there are some great things to dig through coming up.  I’m kinda looking forward to it. :) 

#finding kh #kurt hummel