#(in the women’s room fyi)

[asteroidaffliction]

[senatortedcruz]

those religious guys who say they can't hang out one on one with women, can't be in a room alone with women, can't shake hands with women etc are all disrepecting you as a human being FYI

[madamechrissy]

♡ Time after Time ♡

♡ ♡ Pairings ♡ ♡ CEO! Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

♡ ♡ Warnings ♡ ♡ MDNI- Just sexual tension in this chap hehe, more explicit as we go. Gojo is really a dick at first FYI

♡ ♡ Word Count ♡ ♡ 4.2k

♡ ♡ Summary ♡ ♡ Satoru Gojo is your boss And you've been his head assistant for over two years now. You do everything for him, including and not limited to cleaning his messes, picking out his clothes, and writing his speeches. Sixteen hour days... night calls... You are tired of being overworked and at his beck and call. You decide you are going to put in your two weeks notice. He is shocked, and wants to try to keep you, because you're the best. But you know better. Right? .You really wanna fucking quit. You also wanna fuck him. Also, fuck him.

A/N (Kinda has 'two weeks notice' vibes a bit! No use of y/n.) Fully finished. This was my first gojo fic so maybe a Lil less put together than my current ones

Masterlist- Playlist

Chapter 1

You looked up at him from your desk. You were tired, so damn tired. You needed a fucking break, a long one. Your mind wanders to that vacation away from Tokyo that will never happen, not because you don’t have vacation days or money. Nope, it was  because you work far too fucking much, twelve to sixteen hour days sometimes. For him, your damn boss, Satoru Gojo.

Always asking you to stay late, always running his errands, saving his ass, covering for him. Writing speeches, making presentations, finding him dates even. When Gojo wanted something, he got it, and it didn't matter if it ruined every plan you ever had, you had to get it done for him.

He ran casinos, owned a hotel, a nightclub, you name it, Satoru Gojo owned it. He’d inherited some from his family but mostly he was self made. Even the tower you worked in, Kamo Tower, was one of the best in the city. Everything Gojo touched seemed to turn to gold, or better yet platinum.

You had been so excited two years ago to be his intern, then ecstatic when you quickly moved up the ranks to be his head assistant. You made good money, enough to send home to your family and take care of them too. But you literally were constantly at that man's beck and call.

Your tired eyes lower as you rest your chin on your hand for a moment, for even last night at two am you'd had to run to his fucking rescue.

You were asleep, but the phone never stops fucking buzzing.

Dick boss: I need you.

You: no.

Dick boss: triple OT pay?

You: fuck. What is it?

Dick Boss: I'm in a bit of a bind…

The bind? Three passed out naked women in his bed, and a room destroyed, that he needed to get fixed so he could sleep. Yeah.

The night before? Well he had urgently needed you to pick out his outfit for his soiree, he was too coked out to pick apparently. And Gojo Satoru had so many three piece suits, ties and shoes, it was actually disgusting.

Nanami Kento walks up to you, overworked from his own boss in the building, a trait you two share as head assistants. He hands you a cup of coffee in a styrofoam cup, with your name written on it in sharpie, clearly from one of the coffee shops nearby. If you had time to have a fucking life you would have flirted with him, for sure. Maybe he would have, too?

Dirty blonde and handsome, his suit stretched across his muscles just so… and fuck if he didn’t look like he needed a damn vacation too.

“Long night?” Kento asked, grabbing you out of your thoughts, an amused and tired expression on his face. You sigh, nodding.

“Thank you for the coffee. I owe ya one.” You let the sweet liquid hit your lips, eyes peering to Gojo's office. There was some lady in there, pretty as fuck in some crazy attempt at business stripper, but he for some reason was scowling at you. What, you dared to sip coffee and not work for two minutes?

“Not at all. Happy birthday.” 

“Shit that’s today?” You teased, but you did know.

“We don’t really get birthdays.”

“Haha no we don’t. But thank you!”

“Of course. Take care of yourself okay? Gojo is… ugh.” Nanami looked disgusted as he shook his head, pushing up his fancy glasses. You couldn’t help but giggle at that as Nanami walked off.

Your phone rings, because of course Gojo can't just come to you, you must go to him. Your eyes roll.

“Yes, Sir?” You answer the phone, tapping your glittery manicured nails on your desk, the one treat you gave yourself.

“My office.” That silken command may have excited most women, shit, most human beings, but it was a source of annoyance for you.

“Coming.”

You sighed, hanging up the phone and sipping your coffee. The office coffee usually went cold daily with the amount of shit you had to do. You smooth down your dress, adjusting the buckle of your belt just a tad before walking towards the giant glass office.

Gojo’s office had floor to ceiling windows surrounding it that had a ridiculous view of the cityscape below. You all were on the top floor of Kamo Tower, after all. The air was filled with a faint scent, woodsy and fresh, a signature fragrance that lingered in the space, distinctive to Gojo.

As you enter, you see Gojo himself reclining casually in a lavish chair, his signature Gucci sunglasses on, covering those ridiculous blue eyes. Which you honestly appreciated because he made shit hard to focus, even after two years of working as his assistant.

“Sir?” You stand there cautiously, thinking of just putting in your notice then and fucking there, like that dream you had in your two hours of sleep.

“Status update on my meetings?”

“I sent you them all.” He smirked, arrogant. You grit your teeth. “You have two meetings today, Sir, one for the new hotel partnership, then you have a meeting with Mr. Suguru about your casino. And of course, you have your event tonight.”

“Speaking of that, I need you to come with me tonight for the charity ball.” You sigh, shutting the door behind you, resting your aching head against it.

“I asked for tonight off.” You murmur, and Gojo scoffs, grinning, damn fangs like some vampire glinting from the sun that beamed in. He stands, stretching his long elegant limbs, before he walks closer to you, making the scent of him waft through your senses.

“I'll pay you well. Plus you’ll be going as my date for the event, not going to make you actually work. You'll get to relax and shit. Drinks and food.”

“As your date?” You blink, pursing your lips.

“I know, it’s kinda a dream scenario.” He laughed at his own joke, a habit he certainly had.

“Since when does CEO Satoru need a date? Especially me . I can just arrange you a date like I always do.”

“It's a delicate partnership and I need someone who is smart. Not eye candy. I need you, law school girl. Plus you’re American, and a lot of the people there are too. So it’s a no brainer.” You sighed, the comment about eye candy biting.

Men hit on you pretty frequently, any time you weren’t working, which you could not say was very often. But of course Gojo banged models on the regular, and you had no time to look like a model, you barely had time to slap on some mascara and concealer every day to hide how tired you were.

“So you don't need anyone pretty… is what you're saying.”

He pauses then, frowning at you. “You're very pretty.” He'd never said that. He'd barely complimented your work. You catch your breath; looking up at him, curious how he had gotten just an inch away.

“‘Not eye candy.’”

“We'll no, you dress kinda boring… like business and shit. Not sexy at all. I mean I’ve never seen you not in a business dress unless it’s at night and I call you, then you wear pajama shorts and shit?”

You snort. “I would dress up if I had a life. All I do is work.”

“Exactly, that’s what I mean by not ‘eye candy’. How you dress, not your looks. But I'll make sure your outfit looks killer, no need to thank me.” Gojo winks at you, lowering his shades, those insane cerulean eyes making you overheat against your will. Big and glittering with silver, the irises the prettiest blue that the earth could scarcely recreate. Eyes that made anyone do anything he wanted.

You were almost immune to that by now.

“It's my fucking birthday and you want me to do overtime?” You demand, and frowns with those full lips.

“Birthday?” Gojo looks confused, as if you should not have one of them, for it’s inconvenient.

“Yeah. Twenty-sixth.”

He evaluates you. “Why did I think you were like twenty two?”

“I’m not sure. If I was I wouldn’t even have my law degree yet, baby face maybe. But it’s my third birthday here, and you never give me the day off. I will absolutely not put in OT.”

“What, you have plans, hot shot?” Gojo chuckles, his tone mocking.

No. Sure don't. “Yep.” You lie. He knows.

“Cancel em.” He shakes a hand dismissively and you scowl.

“No.” You cross your arms under your breasts, and his gaze darts down for the briefest of moments.

“No?” No one turned Gojo down. No one ever told the gorgeous CEO no. His six foot four frame hunched as he placed an arm on one side of you, peering down, frown still on his handsome features. You bravely glare back up at him.

“No. Gojo, I'm really exhausted, and I just want to have fun and actually relax for my birthday.”

“Have fun with me. And make killer money. Win win.”

“That's work. Not fun.”

“Hmm.” He tilts your chin up with his long fingers, making you peer up at him, surprised at the contact. “I'll make it fun. Promise. Then I'll give you the day off tomorrow. Deal?”

“I could find you a smart American girl? Eye candy too.”

“You're my best, though, I need you.”

Bastard.

“Ugh. Fine.”

He grins, and you catch a breath as he backs away. “Good. I'll have the outfit brought to your apartment later? I’m assuming you don’t have anything fancy enough for this one.”

“Probably not. Fine. Need my size?”

His eyes are drinking you in as he smirks. “You think I haven’t gathered your size by now?” Your cheeks overheat. Though you’re used to him, at the end of the day you still had a damn vagina, and it reacted to him. He chuckled deeply, turning away and waving a hand. “You're dismissed.”

Just like that, your birthday night was just work. Work for Gojo.

***

“Can’t wait to put in my two weeks ugh.” You grumble to yourself as you finish up your makeup, for once having fun with it. If you had to work your birthday you would absolutely look gorgeous for it. Lashes, winged liner, red lips.

The dress he had ordered laid in a satin box on your white day bed. You sigh, opening it finally, and you blink rapidly as you look at the gown encased in baby blue and white tissue paper, the colors of Gojo himself. You gently pulled out the gown and most of your irritation died off.

Black and decked with sequins, it glittered in the light, it was a velvety fabric, as soft as a caress. As you slid it on it glided over your curves, accentuating the nip at your waist, the arch of your hips. The neckline plunged ridiculously low, revealing a generous amount of cleavage that you typically kept under wraps at work. You wonder how Gojo knew you had just so much up top…

Pervert is what he was.

Pervert with killer taste.

The dress had a slit that went dangerously up one of your well toned thighs, exposing nearly all of one leg, while the rest of the dress hit the floor. It was if he truly knew every measurement you had, for the dress could not have hit any better. Those damn analyzing eyes of his…

You spun to look at the back of the dress, which dipped daringly as well, exposing an expanse of skin, from shoulder blades down to the dimples on your lower back. You rummage through your little cherry wood jewelry box, eyeing to see what would work with the dress. Luckily, everything went well with black, so you snatched up a pretty silver cross necklace and earrings.

A text pops up, and you read it.

Dick Boss: Waiting out front in the car.

You: Just a few.

You slip on your shoes and spritz some body spray on, your favorite from Victoria’s Secret you save for special things, then slide on a pair of black heeled boots, contemplating putting on underwear. Did it matter what kind? It wasn’t like you’d had any dick since like college at this point. And you definitely weren’t fucking Gojo, since neither of you were interested.

You because you saw the girls he fucked. Him because… you weren’t ‘arm candy’. Or a dumb ass bimbo. Sometimes you wished you were, since they seemed sweet and happy in life, while you drowned.

Dick Boss: I’m waiting…”

Fucking Gojo. Ugh. You decide to slide on some lacy boy shorts, just in case that slit did go too high you’d have some coverage. Peeking one last time at the mirror, you had to admit you looked beautiful. You text Gojo.

You: Coming now.

You locked up and headed down the stairs of the apartment building, and there was Kiyotaka, Gojo’s driver, opening the door of the black limo for you. Kiyotaka, who somehow was your age now. That boggled your mind more than Nanami. Gojo wore people out, very clearly, but even you had it easier than Kiyotaka.

“My lady.” He said sweetly, and you smiled at him, sliding in, and there Gojo was across from you, long arms spread across the backs of the seat, his head rested back so that his throat was exposed. His head snapped down, and he looked right at you, no sunglasses, only those eyes. His lips parted, and you tensed, prepared for some lewd comment or rude one.

He blinked those white spiky lashes, arms sliding down as Kiyotaka shut the door, gaze taking you in ever so slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. You felt yourself holding your breath as it lazily traveled down and back up your body, clutching your little black evening bag tightly.

“You look…” He trailed off, shaking his head a bit.

“Thank you for the dress.” You cut him off. He exhaled, nodding.

“Of course. Consider it my birthday gift. You look… really fucking hot.”

You giggled at that. Not beautiful or breathtaking. But you’d take it. “Thank you, the dress is so beautiful.”

“Your body is that banging and you hide it like that?” He was somehow right next to you now, and you shiver a bit at the nearness. “I should reprimand you.”

You roll your eyes. “I can’t dress like this at work.”

“You sure the fuck can. I’m the boss, I say so.” His fingertips trailed down your shoulder, and it sent tingles through your body. Why was he so close? “I’m buying you a new wardrobe.”

“The fuck you are. I like to be professional, unlike you.” You smack his hand off errantly, and your bare shoulder grew cold without the touch.

“You do really look good.” You took in his outfit, a black tux, which fit his slim muscles perfectly. It was some shit Bruce Wayne would wear. Maybe Gojo was some super hero or villain. It would fit.

“You do too. You always do.”

“I know.” He winked at you, leaning forward to snatch up champagne and pop it, pouring you both glasses. You took one, letting the bubbles tickle your nose, taking a sip of the sweet drink, moaning softly and shutting your eyes.

“Delicious.” You lick your lower lip and find him a breath away. You don’t move, but you’re frozen, confused as he looks at you like he never has. “Satoru?”

“Are you really thinking of quitting?” He asked softly. You have never seen Gojo like this.

“How did you know?”

“I know everything, baby girl.” He gently runs his long fingers through your hair, a rare frown on his lips.

“Baby girl? The fuck, Satoru. Yes I was thinking of it, an seducing me is not going to change my mind. Is that the point of this?” You demand, irritated, and against your better judgement, fucking horny. His eyes study your own seriously.

“If that was my intention, you’d damn sure know.” Each word was bit out, distinctive, and his hand tightened in your hair, far too strong, yanking your head back. You scowl up at him, your hands clenched into fists.

“Oh, would I?” You challenged him, notching your chin up a bit. He laughed but it was without humor.

“How many women have you heard me fuck in my office? How many have you had to send home? You think I don’t know how to fuck the shit out of you if I wanted to. You wouldn’t even be able to walk.”

Gojo’s whisper was against your lips, and you could taste whiskey on his breath, mixed with his mints he constantly sucked on. He wasn’t touching you, but he was so close you could feel him…

“I won’t fuck you though, so what’s the point of even joking about it. You don’t want me anyway. Not your type.” He snorted, and one of his big hands came to your waist, touching the bare skin of your back and wreaking havoc on every sense you’ve ever had.

“You know my type?” You nod. His thumb brushed under your breast, an action that made the peaks of your breasts tighten, aching against the sequined gown. Damn if his gaze didn’t drop down. You cursed yourself. “The women who entertain me aren’t necessarily my type.”

“Hmm.” It grew difficult to focus. You sip your champagne, leaning back a bit, but Gojo’s grip stays. “It doesn’t matter. You’re talking out of your ass. Too much cocaine tonight?”

His grip tightened, and it made you gasp, looking up at his darkened eyes in the dim light of the limo. “I haven’t had any. I’m just pretty fucking irritated my best assistant wants to leave. You’re ungrateful.”

“Ungrateful!” You snort at that, tossing back the champagne and grabbing at his hand, his wrist, trying to get him off of you. “How the fuck, Satoru? I literally do everything for you!”

“And I pay you damn good!”

“I know. I’d rather be broke somewhere than do sixteen hour days. It’s my damn birthday and here I am!”

“As if you really had plans. You have no friends and no life.”

“Bullshit.” You grit your teeth, shoving at his hard chest. “That’s because I have no damn time! You think I wouldn’t have a boyfriend or something by now?”

“Maybe that’s your problem, why you’re so bitchy and stuck up all the damn time. You need to get fucked good.”

You slapped him then. Slapped your Boss. Slapped Satoru Gojo.

His hand caught your wrist, brutally squeezing, pale cheek just hinted with pink from your mark.

“Ring a little true?”

“I can get fucked if I want.” You yank your hand back.

“I didn’t say that. Clearly you can get fucked. It’s just you don’t even want to and you blame it on my hours, as if you were the type.”

“I’d fuck Nanami Kento if I had any damn time.” Gojo’s eyes widened at that, and his grip on your waist became brutal. “Yep. Sure would. He’s built as fuck, oh and he remembered my birthday. If either of us had time I sure would. So does that answer it for you?”

Gojo bared his teeth at her, a little blue vein in his temple popping out. Your heart beats in your chest, brutally, the thudding loud in your ears. “You… would fuck… Nanami… Kento?”

Each of his words were forced through his teeth.

Ah, you made him mad.

Good.

“Who wouldn’t? He’s hot.” You try to shrug casually.

“Out of anyone in the office?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Including me.”

You open your mouth to say yes, but you know it’s not fucking true. Of course you’d have fucked Gojo, if he wasn’t a dick boss, if he was just a dude…

Look at him.

“Cat got your tongue?” His free hand caught your chin, forcing your gaze to his piercing one. You gulp, licking your lips.

“No.”

“No, what?” His voice was a wicked caress.

“No… not including you. Goddammit. Is that what you want to hear? That I’m not blind? Of course you’re attractive, and you know it, stupid!”

He scoffed. “You’re childish.”

“You!” You shoved at him again, and he let you go, grabbing your glass and refilling it, watching you like a hawk. “It changes nothing. I am planning to leave. I will find a replacement, someone even better than me.”

“There is no one better.” He sounded sincere, a rare thing for Gojo, emotion cracking in his voice as he downed his own glass.

“You think fucking me will keep me as your damn assistant?”

“It’s worth a shot. I’m the best fuck there is.” He shrugged, some of that casual demeanor coming back, and you wanted to yell at your body for its reaction.

“It won’t happen.”

“Yeah? Why?”

“You’re my boss!”

“But you’re leaving.”

“I…”

“Hmm? You seem at a loss for words.” You scowl, looking out the window as the lights flickered by.

“Are we there yet?”

“Childish.”

“Says you!”

“You need a good orgasm. Or ten. Get you to be less of a stuck up nag.”

“I do not! And I am not!”

“You do, and you are.”

“I orgasm plenty, thanks!” You felt your body on fire at that, and Gojo couldn’t look more satisfied, like the Cheshire fucking cat, the grin as wide as it could go, running his hand through his silken white locks.

“Oh, do tell.” He practically purred.

“Cut the shit, Satoru. You’ve never talked like this in the years I’ve worked with you, where the fuck do you get off?”

“I get off in women. Or on them.” He shrugged, enjoying your open mouth, once again lost for words.

“You know I did not mean that!”

“Where do you get off? On a dildo maybe.” You blinked, eyebrows low in a scowl, wanting to hit him again. “No, don’t look the type. Maybe a rose toy. Hmm… or just these little things.” Gojo lifted your hand, already small but ridiculously small in his own, swallowed by him. “They don’t hit deep enough, do they?” His whisper shook you to your core.

You burned, breathless, as he held out his own hand to yours, fingers so fucking long they rivaled the length of a dude’s dick. Likely larger than the couple of dude’s in college, which was about all of your experience. He grinned as you stared on, palm hot and hard against your own.

“I… you…” You wanted to cuss him out. Quit right then.

You also wanted his fingers in you.

“I could get you off, put you in a good mood. We don’t have to have sex for that.” His hand took your own, putting your hand by your heat, between your thighs.

“Why… are you…act- acting like this?” You managed to breathe out, but you had no energy to move away from him, or shove his hand off. Because if you were being honest with yourself, you’d love to ride your frustration out on him.

“Maybe I realize how much I need you to stay as my assistant.” Gojo’s supple lips kiss down your jaw, firm but delicate, as his hand brutally grabs yours and shoves it against yourself, moaning in your ear. “Is my assistant already hot for me? Are you that easy to get wet?”

“Fuck off.”

It’s a whisper. You want it. And you hate him. You hate that your pussy is pulsing against your joined fingers through the barrier of your panties, that the moan in your ear made you wonder what he sounded like when he came. Gojo slid his own finger against your panties, pausing, moaning again, pulling back to look at you.

He was gorgeous.

Your chest rose and fell with your breath.

“Fuck.” He whispered, and something was just different. You saw Gojo with women, always so self assured. But something seemed surprised, vulnerable, when his long finger pressed against the damp sticky fabric, just grazing your clit. You arched your hips up, and his fingertip ran up slightly, pressing more, and Gojo’s lips were just a breath away…

“We’re here, Sir, my Lady.”

Fuck.

You two shot apart, and you struggled to catch your breath, adjusting your dress, gulping down one more glass for good measure. Gojo adjusted his pants, not even looking at you, clearing his throat. You cursed as you saw his tie.

“You can’t tie a tie for shit, Satoru.” You leaned over to him, pulling it apart gently and re-tying it. You noticed his Adam's apple bob up and down. He was quiet. Satoru Gojo, quiet. “There.”

“Thanks.” He said gruffly, and your eyes met.

What the fuck just happened?

Kiyotaka opened the door, exposing them to some cool night air, and you got out, curious just how the fuck this birthday night was going to go.

Chapter 2

Completed fic on ao3, will post chaps on here as well

https://archiveofourown.org/works/55424137/chapters/140629990

[astrids-blog333]

Beneath the Silk - Chapter One

Emperor!Lucius Verus Aurelius x Reader

Fandom: Gladiator II

Chapter One Summary: A political marriage to Lucius is forged to secure the empire’s fragile peace. Though emotionally distant, Lucius is drawn to your quiet grace, while you struggle to navigate the undercurrents of power within the Roman court. But even the smallest kindnesses draw his gaze, leaving you both uncertain of where duty ends and attraction begins.

Warnings: angsty, slow burn, injury/blood (mild), anxiety and stress, manipulation, power imbalance, alcohol consumption.

A/N: This is a three-part fic I've been writing, and I'm hoping to get all three parts out in the next day or so, FYI Chapter Three will be 18+. It is set post Gladiator II, and there are slight deviations from the original plot (i.e he never married and is emperor). PLEASE PLEASE comment/like/reblog it really does help. I love the Gladiator movies so much, and I love him so much. Anyways, hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (OPEN)

WC (Chapter One): 3.8k

chapter two - chapter three

The halls of the imperial palace stretch far before you. You’ve been in this palace many times, yet today it all feels different. Your feet feel heavy, and every step you take seems to echo off the marble floors, louder than the last.

A summons to the Emperor’s court, a marriage proposal from Lucius Verus himself, does not go unanswered. As the daughter of a senator with ambition for more power, more influence, you have a duty to follow his wishes.

This meeting is not just an opportunity; it is the beginning of a marriage that will secure your family's future, a political alliance forged in the name of power and stability.

Your family’s future.

The door ahead opens, revealing a room bathed in golden light, its shadows stretching far along the stone floors. From it, a servant steps forward, bowing low. “My Lady, the Emperor is expecting you.”

With a nod, you move forward, your nerves hidden behind a composed exterior as you step into the room.

You are struck by the sheer presence of the man before you.

An Emperor.

He sits tall, his posture regal, yet there’s an edge to him, something dark that seems to pull the very air towards him. His gaze lifts as you enter, his eyes sharp, cold, but also appraising. The moment your eyes meet, you feel an unsettling stillness settle over you, the kind of quiet that could erupt into a storm at any moment.

He says nothing at first, his gaze lingering on you, as if taking measure of your very soul. The corners of his lips curl into something that could almost be mistaken for a smile, but there’s a coldness to it that sends a shiver down your spine.

"My Lady," he finally speaks, his voice smooth. "I’ve heard much about you." You hold his gaze; this is a game of power, of politics, and you are determined to play it well.

“I’m honoured to meet you, Emperor,” you reply, your voice steady even though your heart is racing inside your chest. You’ve heard the rumours, but now, standing before him, you understand.

Lucius Verus Aurelius is not just a man.

"You are just as your father said," He continues. “A woman of duty.”

For a moment, his expression softens, a flicker of something more human crossing his features. But soon it's gone again, replaced by that same cold, calculating gaze.

“The court is full of men and women who are all too eager to present themselves,” Lucius adds, his voice lower now, almost thoughtful. “But it is rare to find someone who doesn’t seek the approval of others.”

Lucius looks at you for a long moment, something unreadable passing across his features. Then, without another word, he turns and gestures to the throne beside him. “We shall see how you fare in Rome, My Lady."

The days following your first meeting with Lucius have blurred into a single long string of formalities, discussions and countless meetings. The whispers around the court grow louder, as does the weight on your shoulders. This marriage, your marriage, which was once discussed in vague terms, is now an inevitability. Your father has spoken on your behalf, assuring the Emperor that you are prepared to fulfil your duties.

This marriage is not simply a union of you and Lucius; it is a bond that must strengthen the empire, settle the mounting tension between factions, and solidify his reign. The senators, the generals, and the noble families all have their eyes on this union, their agendas clear.

It is political. It is power. It is survival.

You stand by the window of your quarters, gazing out over the sprawling city below. The weight of this arranged marriage presses in against your chest, and the reality of what it means is finally sinking in.

You are not marrying Lucius for love. You will never marry for love. The two of you, bound by the will of those in power, are being forced into unity, and regardless of the greater good, it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

Lucius, you’ve learned, is a man who does not easily show emotion. In your brief interactions with him, you’ve seen the icy exterior he wears like armour.

The few words you’ve exchanged with him since your first meeting have been curt, formal. There has been no warmth, no kindness, no hint of empathy. He seems determined to keep things strictly business.

The door to your chambers creaks open, and your father steps in, his expression as unreadable as ever. His presence fills the room, and for a moment, you feel as though you are being suffocated by his expectations.

“They’ve confirmed the date,” your father says, his voice low. “The wedding will take place in two weeks. Everything is now in place, finally.”

Your throat tightens, but you hold your composure. “Two weeks? That is quite soon, is it not?”

He nods, his eyes calculating. “It’s necessary. The tensions between the eastern provinces have been growing. The marriage will solidify our alliance with the eastern legions and quell any dissent within the senate.”

You nod, but inside, a cold knot begins to form. You are a pawn in this game. Your father, the Emperor, the senator, all of them are using you as nothing but a tool.

As your father speaks of the preparations, you can’t help but wonder about the man you are to marry.

The thought lingers in your mind, but you push it away. There’s no room for feelings in this arrangement.

Only duty.

The door closes behind your father as he exits, leaving you alone once again. You stare out at the city as the last light of the day fades into the dark night.

You know that there is no turning back now.

The grand hall is filled with the soft murmur of conversation, the clink of shining golden goblets, and the rustle of expensive, fine silk. The air is heavy with the scent of roasted meats and perfumed wine.

This is the atmosphere of celebration, of happiness, but you feel anything but celebratory, or happy.

You stand near the edge of the room, your sharp gaze occasionally drifting to Lucius, who is surrounded by the usual assortment of nobles, advisors, and foreign diplomats seeking favour with their ruler. His posture is far too perfect, his expression unreadable, as it has been all evening. He is, as always, a flawless picture of regal composure.

But something about him tonight seems different.

Your marriage ceremony had been short, almost perfunctory, with little fanfare or flourish beyond the required vows and rituals. Now, as tradition dictates, you find yourself at the centre of a sea of well-wishers, all of whom are eager to congratulate you on your new role as Empress.

You watch Lucius from a distance. He stands in a circle of powerful men, but his gaze keeps drifting toward you. It’s subtle, a brief flicker of his eyes before he turns away again, agreeing with a senator or nodding to some advisor's boring anecdote.

You don't envy this part of his job, of his duty.

But the glances, those you catch. You catch the way his jaw tightens for a fraction of a second, how his fingers grip his goblet just a little too tightly. He’s noticing you, even if he’s trying to hide it from both you and himself.

You take a sip of your wine, your nerves beginning to settle as the alcohol warms your insides. You’re not sure if it’s the drink or the fact that everyone’s watching you that makes you feel so exposed. You can feel their eyes on you, their judgement lingering on you like a shadow.

You look to Lucius again, this time locking your eyes with his. This time, neither of you looks away.

You can’t put your finger on it, but you sense the conflict within him. The coldness he wears so effortlessly seems at odds with the tension in his gaze.

The music plays on, and slowly, the crowd around Lucius begins to thin. The revelry continues, but you remain rooted in place, watching him. But then he turns towards you again and starts through the crowd in your direction.

Your breath catches in your throat, and suddenly, your palms feel clammy. The warmth of his presence envelops you, his scent intoxicating, a fine balance of rich leather, smoke, and something darker, more primal.

For a short moment, neither of you speaks. The silence stretches. The world around you fades into a dull hum as you lock eyes with him. The tension is so thick it’s almost suffocating you where you stand.

“I hope you’re enjoying the festivities,” Lucius finally says, his voice low and even, betraying nothing.

You can’t tell if it’s his disinterest or something else, but you know you’re being measured, evaluated. “I am,” you reply. “But I do find myself wondering what happens after all this. Once the celebration ends, once the court has gone, what is left for us?”

Lucius tilts his head to the side slightly, intrigue crossing his otherwise stoic features. “That remains to be seen, My Lady.” His words are polite, detached. “Marriage is a... business arrangement. Nothing more.”

The words sting, but you manage to keep your composure. It’s what you expected, what you have been prepared for your whole life. A loveless marriage with a man who wishes not to be with you, who wishes for nothing to do with you.

“Perhaps,” you say, taking a small step back, giving yourself some space to breathe, “but even some business arrangements can be... complicated.”

His eyes narrow just a fraction. “Complicated, yes of course.” His voice deepens. “But I don’t believe you are the complication I expected.” The words hit you like a stone to the chest, and you can feel the sudden weight of everything pressing down on you.

He doesn’t touch you, but the intensity of Lucius's stare almost feels like physical touch.

Before you can even think to reply, he steps back, his posture relaxing slightly as he adjusts the clasp of his cloak. His gaze lingers on you for one final moment.

As quickly as he appeared, Lucius turns away, his figure swallowed one again by the crowd.

You exhale, not realising you’d been holding your breath the entire time.

The palace is a maze, and you can feel the harsh looks follow you down the corridors. Today, you have the chance to walk through them, away from the crowd of courtiers and their insistent chattering.

The hall stretches before you, lined with columns that give the space a sense of grandeur, but the silence, which is only broken by your footsteps, is almost unsettling. You are alone in your thoughts, but there is no real solitude here, not when you can feel the eyes upon you at all times.

As you round the corner, you spot a young girl struggling, trying to steady herself while clutching at her side. It's such a subtle shirt in her stance you nearly miss it, but you can see the discomfort in the way she winces as she tries to carry on her task.

You slow as you watch her. It is a brief interaction, just a glimpse of vulnerability, but enough to catch your eye. You can’t possible ignore it.

Without thinking twice, you approach, stepping carefully so as not to startle her. “Are you all right?”

The girl, startled by the sound of your voice, looks up. Her face is flushed, and she quickly straightens, hiding her discomfort behind a forced smile.

“I’m fine, my lady,” she replies, her words quick, too quick. There is a slight tremor in her voice that betrays her. You study her for a moment, something isn’t right.

“I don’t believe you.” You keep your tone even so as to not scare her, but your eyes are sharp, persistent. “Let me see.”

She hesitates, glancing down at her hands, before finally lifting her sleeve. The sight of the deep gash in her arm catches you slightly off guard. It isn’t too serious, but it has clearly been left untreated to long as blood has begun to stain the fabric of her tunic.

“Why hasn’t someone seen to this?” you ask, lowering your voice.

The girl's eyes dart to the side, refusing to meet your gaze. “I didn’t want to trouble anyone, my lady,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Sit,” you instruct, your words firm but gentle as you gesture to a nearby chair. “I’ll have it cleaned.”

As you move to tend to her wound, you feel the air shift. The sudden silence is broken by footsteps approaching from the other end of the corridor.

You don’t need to look up to know who it is. Lucius’s presence, even without words, seems to fill the space.

Without a word, he appears in the doorway. His eyes briefly flick over the scene before locking onto you. His brow furrows as he observes you kneeling beside the girl, your attention wholly focused on her.

For a moment, there is no movement, just the quiet exchange between you two. Lucius takes a step forward. His voice, when it comes, is low.

“You would... help those beneath you?”

It isn’t an accusation. It is a question, a quiet observation wrapped in the careful tone of someone trying to understand something they don’t quite grasp. Perhaps he refuses to believe that you, a Lady of the Roman Empire, who was born into wealth and prosperity, would even think to help a lowly servant girl.

You don’t look up immediately, your attention still on the maid as you clean her wound. “Everyone has a place,” you say, not pausing in your task, “but kindness should have no rank.”

Lucius is silent for a moment. When you finally look up, you address him, "Would you not agree, Emperor?"

You catch the brief flicker of something in his eyes. It isn’t exactly surprise, but it isn’t disregarded either. For the first time since your marriage, you see a different side of him, something unexpected that seems to make him seem faintly protective.

He nods, his gaze softening for the briefest of moments before his expression shifts back into something guarded. “I’ll have someone fetch a healer,” he says, his tone returning to its usual clipped edge. “Stay here.”

You don’t have time to dwell on it, though, as the girl's soft voice interrupts your thoughts. “Thank you, my lady. I... I don’t deserve this.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face as you finish cleaning the wound. “You do. We all deserve kindness, even when the world sometimes forgets it.”

Lucius pauses for a moment in the doorway, watching, listening, before disappearing down the hall again to carry out his command.

The night has long since fallen, and the grand halls of the palace are quieter now, the hum of courtly chatter and the heavy clang of armor replaced by the soft rustling of distant servants and the occasional glimmer of torchlight reflecting off the polished marble. It is the kind of night that promises solitude, a rare gift in a world so full of eyes, all pointed towards you. You find yourself walking the halls alone once more, needing nothing more than the silence to clear your thoughts.

You had spent the better part of the day in meetings, your role at the heart of Rome’s politics growing clearer with each passing day. The weight of your new position, all of the alliances, the shifting balances of power, and the many expectations are all beginning to wear on your mind and body.

The only place you can find any peace is in the gardens. They have become your sanctuary, so you find yourself slipping away from the palace’s watchful eyes to find some reprieve among the trees. The night air is cooler here, and the stars overhead shine brightly.

The sound of footsteps draws you out of your thoughts. At first, you think it’s just another guard or servant going about their duties, but as the figure comes closer, you realise it is him.

Lucius.

His presence is a shadow before it becomes a figure, tall and commanding, moving with purpose even in the utter stillness of the night. He doesn’t say anything as he approaches you, his eyes scanning the garden briefly before settling on you. You’ve seen him in many situations, in the heat of power struggles, in the midst of grand gatherings, but in this, this stillness, this quiet, he is different. It is almost as if you can hear the thoughts churning beneath his calm exterior.

“I didn’t expect to see you out here,” you say, your voice softer than usual, unsure of how to read the situation.

Lucius says nothing for a long moment. He merely looks at you. His lips part slightly, as though he might speak, but then he chooses not to. Instead, he takes a step closer, and you notice, almost imperceptibly, that he is giving you space.

“What are you thinking?” you ask, the words escaping before you can hold them back. It isn’t an ordinary question; this isn’t about politics or alliances. It is more personal, an invitation into the silence he carries with him, the part of him he keeps locked away. You wonder whether one day he will share them with you, his wife.

His eyes flick to yours, and for a second, there is a hesitation, a hint of something that makes you wonder if he’ll answer truthfully.

“Nothing worth saying,” he finally replies, his voice cool. He is always in control, always aware of what he reveals, to whom and when.

But tonight, it seems, something about the air between you has changed. Perhaps it is the quiet, the absence of everyone else, or maybe it is the sheer weight of the responsibilities that both of you now carry. Some of these responsibilities you now carry together.

“I don’t believe you,” you say softly, your gaze not leaving his. It isn’t defiance, it’s just the truth. You’ve learned enough in your time here to know that Lucius is a man of many layers, many masks, and that some things can be seen even if he never speaks them aloud.

His jaw tightens, but there is no anger in his features, no sharp rebuke. Just the unshakable, steady gaze that has become his trademark.

The only sound is the gentle rustling of leaves in the night wind.

Finally, he breaks the silence, "I've seen you in the gardens before, what draws you to them so?"

You pause, thinking for a moment before answering. "The night reminds me of home." He looks at you, raising an eyebrow slightly, prompting you to continue.

"I have never lived anywhere but my childhood home, so coming here has been...difficult, to say the least." You pause, unsure of how to continue.

"I found that even though my whole life has been turned upside down, the night sky has not changed. The stars are in the same place they have always been, so when I look up to them, I can forget everything else, and I could just as easily be home again."

His eyes narrow, as if measuring your words. "You don't seem as disillusioned as most would be," he observes. "Most would be angrier, most would resent being used as a pawn in the empire’s games."

You tilt your head, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. "And yet, here I am. No resentment, simply...remembering." You pause, glancing down at your hands, seeing they tremble slightly.

"Just doing what I must."

Lucius steps closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor drawing your attention. "And what if your duty requires something more than you expected?" His voice drops, a thread of vulnerability threading through his usual detached tone. "What if you’re asked to choose between what’s right for the empire and what’s right for you?"

The question hangs in the air like a challenge, but you meet his gaze without any hesitation. "Then I will choose both, Lucius. I will find a way."

He speaks again, softer this time.

"Earlier, when you helped the servant..." He pauses, his voice a little quieter, almost as if uncertain of his own curiosity. "Why did you do that? It was nothing more than a small injury, but you treated it as if it were life or death."

You bite your lip, the memory of the servant’s injury still fresh. It had been a simple cut, nothing that would have warranted a second glance from anyone else. Yet, something in you had insisted on helping. It had felt… right.

"You see, Lucius," you say, carefully choosing your words, "in a place like this, where everything is always about power and control, it's easy to forget the little things. The ones who are dismissed, the ones who are invisible. It's not much, but I can't help but think that if we forget them, we lose something essential to who we are as people."

He is quiet for a long time, his gaze never leaving you. There is something unreadable in his expression, something buried deep beneath the surface.

"You're different," he finally says, his voice low. "Most would never think twice about such a thing. They would walk past, their eyes trained on the bigger picture, and yet..." His gaze softens, though he quickly masks it with a brief glance away.

You swallow hard, "I just... I just want to do what’s right."

A fleeting silence passes between you two, heavy. The moment feels fragile, like something could shift at any moment, pulling you closer or pushing you apart.

Lucius steps closer again, the distance between you shrinking even further. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the power of his existence wrapping around you like a clock.

There is a stillness in the air, a charge that hums between the two of you, and then, almost unnoticeably, his hand brushes yours. It is so light, so momentary, that you almost think it is an accident. But the sensation of his skin against yours sends a jolt of something through you.

Your breath catches in your throat, and for a moment, neither of you moves. His hand hovers just a fraction above yours, as if unsure whether to pull away or linger. His gaze flickers between your eyes and your hand, and you can see the battle within him, something he isn’t willing to show, but still cannot completely hide.

But then, just as quickly, he pulls away, his hand falling back to his side.

"I should go," Lucius says, his voice returning to its usual coolness. "There are matters to attend to."

You nod, though the tightness in your chest makes it difficult to breathe. "Of course."

As he turns to leave, you can't help but watch him, your thoughts swirling. For all the power he wielded, for all his control, you know there is something more to that man.

all parts of this series are out now, hope you enjoy 🫶

[harmonyrae]

To Love a Prince

Synopsis: A feeling without a name. What you’ve felt ever since he walked into the audience hall on the day of your debut. Love at first sight only happens in fairy tales, right?

Content Warnings: SFW (future works could have NSFW elements fyi), plot & heavy angst, bullying - mean girls style, Sera being a blunt badass bitch once again (bless her), feeling invisible & forgotten (idk what that’s called)

Word Count: 7k

“Ellie! Are you positive you don’t want the book?”

Sera’s booming voice echoed up the stairwell making you cringe and brace for impact. A chorus of crying erupts from the bedroom next door and you sigh, so it begins. A blur of white and loud clicks pass your open bedroom door.

“Sera! The twins were sleeping!”

Cora yells down to her and you hear Sera swear. Your mother chastises her before both women climb the stairs to rush into the room with the screaming children. 

“Pamina no… Jane was just falling asleep!”

You step out of your room and lean in the doorway to watch the chaos unfold. Cora picks up her daughter and shifts her to her hip. Your mother chases after Pearl who had crawled out of the bed with her sister. If Leo wasn’t such a well behaved child you’re not sure how Rafayel and Cora could have managed with the twins. The girls are as wild as Winnie was as a child. Strangely enough, the set of twins that Winnie had a year later were nothing like their mother. 

“Jane, I know you are exhausted, please?”

Winnie was desperate, thankfully Zayne scooped his daughter into his arms to give her a moment of rest. He held his children to his chest and hummed in their ears, calming them down almost instantly. 

Cora and Sera tuck Pearl and Pamina in with a sigh of relief. Zayne settles Jane and Darcy into their cot before checking on Avalon. Theo’s daughter could sleep through anything, you’re convinced. 

“Is everything alright?”

Sylus walks in with Rose fast asleep against his shoulder. Sera gives him a kiss on the cheek before carefully taking their daughter to her cot. You could hear muffled giggling from downstairs where Leo and Sephie were playing with Rafayel and Caleb. 

This was your new normal. The past two years had been nothing but babies and whispered conversations at family dinners. You couldn’t even play your piano unless the house was completely empty. Those moments were few and far between nowadays, with your mother urging your sisters and their husbands to bring her grandchildren by. 

If it weren’t for your debut, you’re not sure your mother would even notice your existence. You know it’s unfair to think like this, but you’re rather used to it. Being the youngest, and quietest for that matter, meant sometimes you were just forgotten. It rarely bothered you, you preferred being alone. Reading your book and playing your piano in utter silence was your idea of a perfect day.

“Ellie, you’re quite sure you don’t need the book?”

Sera’s presence next to you takes you by surprise, drawing you back to the room full of babies. Their parents slip past you, tiptoeing out of the doorway you’re partially blocking.

“Yes. I’ll be fine.”

You turn on your heel and return to your room with Sera right behind you. To your surprise, all of your sisters and your mother are waiting for you in your room when you return. You hadn’t even realized they passed you, perhaps you do spend too much time in your head. 

“Sylus said Leo is already sleeping, even Sephie’s giggles can’t wake him.”

Sera plops down next to Cora who leans over onto Sera’s shoulder and closes her eyes. Theo extends her hand to you and you walk back over to your dressing table. You sit and let Theo finish pinning your hair in place, your long hair is usually twisted in a braid so you’re thankful she took over. You were completely lost in how to fix the mess on your head. 

“Has anyone discovered why the Queen has turned the debutante presentation into a circus? 

Winnie examines your bookshelf, pulling a few out to “borrow” as she makes her inquiry. Your mother, laid back on your bed with an arm over her eyes, just groans in response.

“Most likely due to last season being so dull, no young ladies got married at all! And the balls were apparently ‘too bland’ - even the Queens Ball was a disaster.”

“Who knew stuffing a hundred doves in a box could be so gruesome?”

Sera barely contains her laughter. What was meant to be a glorious release, the sky filled with dozens of beautiful doves, turned out to be a catastrophe. Seems the delicate birds are not so “delicate” afterall, especially if they are fighting for air in a confined space. 

“Time to get dressed.”

Theo taps your shoulder and helps you remove your housecoat. Your dress hung loosely on your petite frame, yet another reason you wish you were more like your sisters. At least they had a semblance of a figure, unlike you. Theo ties a silk belt and does her best to accentuate your delicate features.

“Ellie is bound to be the diamond of this season. Even if the Queen wasn’t asking the ladies to, what did she say… ‘prove themselves worthy of the attention” - Ellie would have piqued her interest.”

Spinning around, taking Theo with you, you stare at Winnie. 

“What do you mean?”

“Not only are you well known in society already, playing at nearly every ball you attend each season, but you are also the last Raeton daughter. The Queen always pays special interest to the baby of a noble family. The last bird to leave the nest. The final act of a magnificent play! Society will remember the Raeton name based on what you do.”

Your jaw aches from how you grind your teeth, your fingers rubbing small circles over the tight muscle. Theo pulls your hand away and turns you to face her. 

“Don’t listen to her. This is your first season, today will be the worst of it. You look lovely, Ellie.”

You can’t help but smile, you could always rely on Theo to calm you down after Winnie riled you up. That was the song and dance of your childhood. Cora and Sera in the stable with their horse, Winnie releasing frogs into the sitting room while Theo sat on the couch with her pen and paper, you lifting your feet to avoid the creature while you practiced at the piano. Now, they all have children of their own and you… well you’re still at the piano. 

“Yes, Eleanora, you look beautiful sweetheart. For the first time I am not worried about a debut, even with the Queens theatics. Ellie, you are charming and talented and kind… I have no doubt this season will be kind to you, even if you don’t find a match right away.”

You may be charming, talented and kind, but you are also awkward, high-strung and timid. Regardless of how today goes, you doubt the season will be any less taxing as all those before. 

The carriage ride to the palace was quiet. You breathed a sigh of relief as you leaned back and extended your hands. You close your eyes and move your fingers over the imaginary keys, humming the melody to the sonata you chose to impress the Queen. It was nothing extraordinary, an original piece you wrote when you were a child that you’ve spent half a dozen years perfecting. Today, you didn’t want to be experimental, you wanted to be safe. 

The palace is crowded, young ladies cling to their mothers while couples huddle together to speculate what each of them will be doing. The doors to the audience chamber were usually open upon arrival, allowing family to file in and wait for the Queen. The guards in front of the doors remain completely silent, which only fuels the wildfire of rumors. 

When the doors open, the crowd rushes forward to find a spot to stand. Your grip on your mothers arm grows tighter and she pats your hand, urging you to keep your eyes closed until she says so. You follow her instructions and steady your breathing. Just get through this and you can go home. Everything will be fine. The Queen’s booming voice startles the crowd.

“Today we are welcoming young ladies into society, witnessing the flower bloom. Watching them bask in the sunlight. However, we are also welcoming a distinguished guest, who will be staying at the palace this season, eager to see what our humble society has to offer.”

The crowd becomes lively as families begin to huddle close to whisper and speculate. The Queen clears her throat and continues.

“Our kingdom strives to have an exemplary relationship with all of our neighboring nations. With news of the mounting tension in Philos, we are offering our aide to bring their country back to its former glory. The King has sent his son, the crown prince, to initiate those efforts. He will be joining us this season as our most honored guest. Please, Prince Xavier, join me!”

The crowd goes completely silent as they turn towards the opening doors. A young man enters, dressed in white, his blonde hair swept across his forehead. He scans the crowd as he walks towards the Queen, his bright blue eyes catch the sunlight and shine like clear diamonds. Your throat tightens and your palms become slick with sweat. You’ve never been a nervous person, how is it that just a glimpse of this prince is enough to unsettle you? 

Prince Xavier sits next to the queen and leans back, as if he’s at afternoon tea and not a formal gathering with all of society. The Queen nods to the man standing beside her, he steps forward and begins reading off names. Young ladies step forward, curtsy, greet the queen and announce what they will be presenting. Some ladies sing, some play an instrument, but when Miss Langford drew a rather impressive sketch of the Prince the Queen was elated. 

“Miss Raeton.”

Your mother squeezes your arm when your name is called. She walks with you, arm in arm. You keep your eyes cast down to the floor to avoid the stares of the crowd and the judgemental glare of the Queen. When you reach the front, you curtsy with your mother and wait for the Queen to address you.

“Lady Raeton, she is your youngest, is she not?”

Your mother stiffens and now you’re the one holding her steady.

“Yes, your majesty. She is.” 

“Well, the final Raeton daughter enters society at last. I do look forward to seeing how you fair during your first season. Am I correct in assuming you’ll be performing a piece on the piano forte today?”

“Yes, your majesty.”

She smiles and gestures to the piano that had been set up for the occasion. The placement was curious, right under the largest windows with the drapes pulled back to allow the sun to nearly blind the player. As you sit, you immediately feel the intense heat of the sun and almost giggle at the thought of the Queen trying to intimidate the player with temperature. Luckily, your piano at home was right next to the window and you were very used to playing under such conditions.

You close your eyes and allow your fingers to rest against the keys, visualizing yourself at home without a huge crowd and two royals watching with your entire social standing in the balance. As the first note echoes through the hall, you feel your shoulders relax and your lips curl into a soft smile. You play with gusto, not holding back as you press the keys firmly and confidently. The song is meant to inspire and it does its job, you feel unstoppable. 

As the song ends, you almost feel disappointed, wishing you could play more. When you look up at the Queen she isn’t even looking at you, she’s looking over at the prince. He leans over on the armrest, his chin propped up on his hand, his eyes locked on you. Your cheeks flush, you stand and curtsy once more before rejoining your mother. The next young lady steps forward and the presentation continues, your mother gives you a quick hug while the Queen is distracted.

“That was marvelous, darling. I’m so proud.”

As the presentations come to a close, the Queen stands and clears her throat. 

“Miss Langford? Miss Raeton?”

Upon hearing your name, you almost trip over your own feet. Your mother gives you a gentle shove and you step forward to address the Queen. Miss Langford - tall, curvaceous, gorgeous - sways her hips as she steps up beside you. 

“I would like to formally invite you both, and your mothers, to tea. Retreat to the drawing room and I will send someone to fetch you. I would like an encore performance, wouldn’t you enjoy that as well Prince Xavier?”

Your eyes flick to the prince, who stares at the Queen in surprise. He nods and offers a polite smile to you and Miss Langford. The Queen claps her hands and waves her hands.

“That is all for today! You may go!”

As the hall empties, your mother fights against the crowd to get to you. She holds you close and drags you toward the window. You’re about to complain, but her lips close in next to your ear.

“I just overheard Lady Danton, the Queen intends to find a match for the Prince this season. It is Lady Danton’s opinion that Miss Langford and you, my love, are her top choices for the Prince.” 

You stare at your mother. She must have gone mad to believe a single word Lady Danton said. You? A suitable match for a Prince? Surely not. 

A tall gentleman approaches you and your mother.

“Please follow me.”

Your mother, Lady Langford, Addison Langford and yourself, follow the man through the winding halls of the palace. He opens the door to a large parlor and you see the Queen, the Prince and other royal family members lounging with their tea. The Queen rises and approaches you, after exchanging pleasantries, she gestures for you to sit and enjoy a cup. 

“Please, have some tea. I shall demand the encore once you’ve had time to replenish!” 

Sipping your tea, you try to think what you’ll play next. You had only practiced one song, while you know countless others, you hadn’t expected this. Sudden changes always make you anxious, you can’t seem to catch your breath. Even drinking, quite possibly, the most expensive tea you’ve ever had couldn’t distract you from what your mother had said. Were you truly being considered a match for someone like the Prince?

You spot him by the window, his eyes lit up in the afternoon sun as he examines the palace garden. He’s tall, broad, well-dressed, rather quiet and his face… he’s unbearably handsome. His soft features and wide eyes make him appear almost lost in the chaotic whirlwind of the Queen’s presence. 

Addison approaches him with a sickeningly sweet smile, her curtsy a tad too low, her torso leaning forward until her decolletage was on full display. In front of the Queen? Her own mother? She’s just asking for a scandal with this performance. She makes small talk with the Prince, the corner of his mouth tipping into a polite smile. You wish you were more outgoing, you’d walk up and join the conversation. If Lady Danton is right, you have an equal opportunity to impress him. Wait, why do you care? Do you care?

“Miss Raeton! Do play us another song!”

The Queen chirps from her armchair, her feet propped up on a cushion as a servant refills her tea cup. You look over to your mother and she nods. You can see her cup tremble as she lifts it to her lips. And she thought your debut would be less stressful than your sisters…

You take a seat at the piano, thankful it is positioned in the corner far away from your audience. Perhaps they will just enjoy the soft music and not pay too much attention. Of course your hopes are in vain, as soon as you begin playing a familiar tune the Queen claps.

“I do love this melody, but oh! Prince Xavier? You must know a duet or two, how about you play with Miss Raeton?”

The Prince stares at the Queen, his posture growing tense as everyone in the room focuses on him. He clears his throat and straightens his jacket. 

“Yes, your majesty, I know a few. However, Miss Raeton’s performance is lovely, I would not want to impose.”

“Nonsense! Miss Raeton, you must play with the Prince! I insist!” 

Well, if she insists... You’ve played duets before, but your father was the only one who took the time to practice with you. It’s been years since you’ve had the chance. You look over to the Prince and bow your head, you’re unsure if he will see the gesture as an apology or an invitation. 

“Of course, your majesty.”

You look over at the Prince, whose cheeks flush as he walks towards you. You move over to make room for him to sit. He raises a brow and hesitates, leaning forward just enough to whisper. 

“Are you quite certain you wish to play Secondo?”

A giggle escapes before you can stop it. Your father had encouraged you to learn how to harmonize by ear, and now it was second nature. Typically, the more experienced player would play Secondo, your decision to sit on the left side was a statement. One you were not willing to take back. You sit up straight and flash a smile. 

“Quite.”

The flush staining the Prince’s cheeks deepens as he sits next to you. If this means you would no longer be a worthy candidate for him, so be it. He tilts his head toward you and stretches his fingers over the keys.

“What would you like to play, Miss Raeton?”

His voice dips as he says your name, slow and sweet. You see his lips part to flash a coy smile in your direction. Oh… your heart flutters and your stomach drops. The way he is looking at you out of the corner of his eye is… why are you so nervous?

“Are you familiar with the Sussex Waltz?”

He nods. You turn away from him and place your hands over the keys, waiting for him to begin. You hear him chuckle softly before he begins to play. Your fingers dance across the keys together, his playing the sweet melody while yours harmonize effortlessly. As the song comes to an end, your hands brush against each other, when he doesn’t pull away immediately you nearly fumble the finale. Closing your eyes, you see it through and when you hear the room fill with applause you open them to look over at the Prince.

“You play very well. I must ask, did you compose the piece you played at the debut?”

You nod, your eyes flit back to the keys. His fingers remain beside yours, his pinky brushes against yours as he stretches his fingers. A shiver runs down your spine as he maintains contact, when you glance at him he wears the whisper of a smile. 

“I… I’d very much like to… to play with you again. If you are willing?” 

Your heart flutters, the way his voice shook as he asked… Your cheeks ache from how wide your smile has grown. 

“I would… very much. Yes, I would like that.”

“Your Highness, that was incredible.” Miss Langford curtsies. You notice how she dramatically bats her dark lashes at him. 

“Thank you, Miss Langford. But I believe the praise is better directed to Miss Raeton. I provided the melody, but she brought the piece to life.”

The Prince watches you, his cerulean eyes scan your features like he’s committing you to memory. You’re too distracted by Addison’s glare to notice how the Prince blushes as his eyes dip down to your neck.

“She certainly did! Oh, your Highness, her Majesty told me you were invited to Lord Blackwood’s ball. I do hope you’ll be in attendance.”

You feel the Prince move his hand away, his pinky was still linked with yours when Addison approached - had she noticed? 

“Yes, I… I will be attending.”

“Forgive me for my boldness, your Highness, but I must insist you save me a dance.”

You stare at your hands in your lap, Addison has always been confident while you hide in the shadows. The way she smiles and dances, graceful and elegant, she’d be a perfect princess. 

“O-of course.”

You stand and curtsy, whispering your thanks and farewells to the pair. You don’t stand a chance. 

“She insisted he save her a dance, he agreed and then he didn’t ask for you to save him a dance?!”

Your fingers spasm causing you to hit the wrong key, turning the soft tune sharp. You’d been playing all morning and your hands were aching, but your newly discovered anxiety had kept you up all night. Playing is the only thing that can calm you down. Your sisters had left to take the children to Rafayel’s aunt’s house a few hours ago. Talia was kind enough to volunteer to watch them overnight, which meant your sisters could truly enjoy the ball. So when they returned to prepare for the ball they were shocked to see you were still seated at your piano. 

Sera sent the rest of your sisters away, promising to get you ready. Cora made her promise to “be nice” and Theo gave her a stern look - they really must think you are too fragile for Sera’s bluntness. Sera nearly shoved them through the door before pulling a chair over to the piano. She propped her feet up on the stool next to your thigh and threw an arm over her eyes. 

“Go on, tell me what’s wrong. And don’t say you’re alright, I know you’re not.”

Thus began the story about your interaction with the Prince, his lingering touch and Addison’s interruption. Sera’s demeanor had shifted from “tell me your problems” to “let’s plot” rather quickly. Now, she was positively livid at the notion the Prince hadn’t asked you to save a dance tonight. 

“I… he was probably surprised by how forward she had been…”

“He’s a Prince! Surely he’s been trained to handle surprising encounters with more dangerous adversaries! And yet he could not muster up the courage to ask the young lady, who he's obviously more interested in, to save him a dance? It is positively ridiculous!” 

“Sera…”

“No! I do not care if he is a Prince. You deserve better! A man who will tell other young ladies that he is not interested. I have known you all your life, you think I do not know that you only play Beethoven and skip tea when you’re upset. Did you even sleep last night?”

You pull your hands back and stare at them in your lap. You hadn’t realized how intuitive Sera was, or that she’d paid attention to your habits so closely. Your silence tells Sera all she needs to know. 

“Ellie… you’re losing sleep over someone who you do not truly know and who is treating you as an option. You are not an option. And if he had any sense, he would have seen that right away.”

“She’s right.”

Sylus’s voice startles both of you. Sera drops her feet off your stool and turns to face him.

“You do not even know what we are discussing!”

Sylus strolls in and settles onto the sofa, unbuttoning his overcoat as he leans back. He smiles, winking at you before he narrows his eyes on his wife.

“Do I need to know? Even if I disagree, I know better than to say so when you’re using that tone, my love.”

Sera scoffs and crosses her arms.

“What do you mean I have a tone? What tone is that, exactly?”

You touch your lips to remind yourself not to laugh, you’ve missed how passionate Sera can become. Sylus loves to tease her, riling her up just to see what she’ll say. 

“The tone of a big sister fighting for better treatment for her little sister. Feisty, with the right amount of bite.”

Sera deflates, her shoulders relaxing as she realizes his intent. 

“Well… she does, does she not?”

“That is why I agreed.” 

Sera turns back around, her cheeks are flushed, but there’s a subtle smile she’s trying to suppress. She looks up at you and tries her best to look stern. 

“Do not give him any more of your attention.”

“Pardon?!” Sylus chirps.

Sera flips her hair over her shoulder and scowls at Sylus.

“I’m talking about the Prince, you crow! Now sit up or you’ll wrinkle!”

Sylus chuckles turn into a belly laugh when you snort. Sera stares at both of you with her arms crossed. She stands and grabs your elbow, pulling you up.

“I despise you both. Come on, you need to get ready.”

Sera guides you upstairs to your room, she begins pulling dresses from your wardrobe - completely ignoring the dress hanging up on the door.

“You are not wearing that boring old thing. We will find you a dress that will make the Prince regret his indecision. He shall watch you dance all night long with the knowledge that his cowardice caused him to lose his chance to be with Eleanora Diana Raeton.”

You don’t argue with her, you’re not only too tired, but also the thought of the Prince staring at you all night… It may be improper, but it is a nice feeling. 

Sera braids your hair and twists the ends securing them with a few bejeweled pins and twists loose strands into delicate waves. Putting your simple dress to the side, Sera pulls one of your more… opulent… dresses over your head. The square neckline and heavy beading flatters your small chest and the wispy sleeves fall elegantly over your shoulders. Your best gloves fit snugly around your upper arms and the necklace around your neck is your absolute favorite. 

“How do you feel?”

Sera looks at you in the mirror, her hands smooth the soft ivory fabric before wrapping around your waist to hug you.

“I feel… beautiful...”

Sera’s smile lights up the room.

“Good. Enjoy yourself tonight, dance, drink, be merry. Do not let the Prince ruin your happiness. And if he asks to dance? Refuse him.”

“Sera!”

“What? Just tell him your card is full and he should have secured a dance last night…”

With that, she turns to bounce out of the room. You giggle to yourself, if only you had the courage to do what she suggests. You make your way back to the dayroom to play the piano until the rest of your party is ready to depart. Your mother is shocked at your choice of dresses, but praises you for your boldness.

The ride to the Blackwood’s manor is filled with the latest gossip. Miss Reed has accepted an arranged marriage, Miss Tate was caught with the stable boy, Miss Krout spent the winter courting Lord Winslow only to reject his offer of marriage. You should really write all of this down, there’s too many scandals to remember.

Lord Blackwood welcomes your family and almost immediately after being announced, everyone breaks off. Rafayel and Cora make for the garden, Sylus and Sera search for wine, Caleb and Theo waste no time joining the other dancing couples and Zayne and Winnie find themselves surrounded by pregnant guests asking for advice. 

You cling to your mother, who whispers encouraging words in your ear. You spot the Queen, seated next to a large floral arrangement, which she is immensely displeased with by the looks of it. Her companions keep her laughing and her glass full. 

Eventually, you see Addison with her usual group, huddled together in a corner. Addison occasionally points to a young lady, eliciting a giggle from the rest of the gaggle. When she spots you she immediately starts walking over. You sip your wine and say a prayer, your fingers digging into your mothers arm just as she arrives in front of you.

“Lady Raeton! Miss Raeton, how lovely to see you both. Eleanora, I barely recognized you… your dress is gorgeous.”

You feel your mother tense, you’re glad she can also sense how insincere Addison is. Before you can reply the booming voice of the announcer echoes through the hall. 

“Prince Xavier of Philos!”

Every head turns to the giant staircase, the Prince stands at the top, he nods to the crowd as politely as he can. His hair is slicked back, with his white double-breasted tailcoat and matching trousers he looks like an angel in the candlelight. He begins to slowly descend the stairs and Addison immediately rushes past you towards him. You hear your mother sigh loudly.

“She’s rather eager isn’t she? She’ll make a young man very irritated… I mean happy one day.”

“Mama!” You gasp.

She chuckles and pats your arm. 

“Do not wait on him all night. Mr Jeremiah Bloom appears to be very interested in taking you for a waltz.”

You stare at her for a moment, it’s rare that your mother and Sera agree on something. But it seems waiting on the Prince to “choose you” is something neither woman wants for you. You search the room for Jeremiah and find him by the dessert table. He tries to appear nonchalant, but you noticed how he’d turned his head away a moment before. Taking a deep breath you make your way across the room.

Keeping your head down, you make your way past the Prince and Addison, only stopping briefly to curtsy before continuing. Your chest aches when you don’t hear the Prince say anything, but when you look over your shoulder you see Addison dragging him to the dance floor. 

“Miss Raeton, coming to inspect the offerings?”

You smile, eyeing Jeremiah as he places a small cake on his plate. He’s an attractive man, curly brown hair, bright eyes, and a sweet voice.

“Mr Bloom, yes, it appears they have a lovely spread this evening.”

He nods, his cheeks turning rosy as you step a bit closer. 

“I must say, I am surprised to see you in attendance, usually your shop keeps you busy all season. Did you provide the arrangements tonight?”

“Yes! Ahh yes, I did. I am invited to every event my shop provides arrangements for, I do not usually attend. I was able to hire a delivery boy this season, so I had more time to relax after finishing the designs.”

You examine the flower arrangement on the table. The pink roses are in full bloom, bright and fragrant. It seems his garden was blessed this season. 

“They’re beautiful…”

“Thank you… Miss Raeton, I would… I would very much like to ask you to –”

“Miss Raeton?” 

Jeremiah’s face pales as he looks at the man standing behind you. The voice is sharp and deep, when you turn to face the man you’re shocked to see the Prince standing a tad too close. Your eyes blow wide when you see him, your legs shake as you try to curtsy, you lose your balance and he catches you.

“Your Highness, I lost my footing, forgive me.”

“I would like to ask if you would honor me with a dance?”

He holds onto your arm, his eyes locked on yours. 

CRASH

A waiter drops a tray of champagne behind you, glass shatters as the liquid soaks into the back of your dress. You gasp, shifting forward, the Prince holds onto you, but your other hand flails and lands right into the top layer of a decadent cake on the table next to you. With the back of your dress wet with champagne, your hand coated in sugar and your confidence sinking into the floor, you let out a pitiful cry. 

You pull your arm away from the Prince and bend to pick up the bottom of your dress. Carefully maneuvering around the broken glass you rush to an open doorway. You can hear the waiter apologizing profusely and the hurried footsteps of the Prince behind you. 

“Miss Raeton!”

You don’t stop. You’re turning the corner when you hear Addison’s voice. Peaking around the corner you see Addison standing with the Prince, her hand on his arm. She leans closer and places her other hand on his shoulder. Your throat tightens, your cheeks burn, tears spill before you can stop them. Your cake-coated hand drops, smearing across your already ruined dress. 

“Miss Raeton will need time to clean up. Would it not be better for your Highness to dance and mingle while you wait for her to return? Surely, she would not wish for you to worry yourself with her condition. Come, dance with me until she returns.”

She tugs his arm and turns him around, leading him back to the dance floor. You’re about to back away and continue your search for a place to clean yourself when you see the waiter. He's still kneeling on the floor picking up broken glass, but he looks up at the Prince and Addison as they pass. The man smiles at Addison, he nods and chuckles to himself as they pass him. 

No. She wouldn’t. Would she? Who would believe you?

You bite your lip and a tear slides from your cheek into your mouth. The salty aftertaste of your tears serves as a reminder - you never stood a chance. You race down the hallway until you find a servant who points you in the direction of a cloakroom. When you find the door, you hurry inside and search for a towel. You pour water into a basin and clean your hand before turning your attention to your dress. The beautiful ivory discolored, drenched from your knee down, the bitter scent of the champagne lingers no matter how much you wipe at the fabric. 

There’s a knock at the door, your mother or one of your sisters must have seen the incident and made their way to you. Sitting down on a chaise to slip off your soaked slippers. 

“Y-yes, come in.” You stutter through a sob, barely looking up when the door opens.

“I-I’m alright, I think I should go… I should go home.” You sniffle loudly.

“Eleanora.”

You stand so quickly you almost tumble over, the Prince shuts the door silently before slowly making his way over to you. Using the back of your hand you dry your cheeks and blink rapidly to dispel any remaining tears. 

“Y-your Highness, you should not…”

“I should not be here?”

He stands in front of you, his brows knit together with concern. You watch the concern turn to frustration as you step aside, trying to create distance. 

“I… I am not…”

That feeling without a name wells up deep in your chest. You’re exhausted and angry, so angry. Why is he wasting his time with you? Why is he here? Addison is waiting for him. You grip the towel in your hands so tightly your fingers start to hurt. Finally, you huff and look up at him directly.

“I do not need your pity. Your intentions should remain elsewhere. I am sure Miss Langford will be a splendid Princess.”

You stalk past him only to be caught and hauled backwards. His hand wraps around your waist, an arm slinking up your back to pull you flush against him. When his lips find yours every inch of your skin is set ablaze. The room fades to white, you drop the towel and grab onto his shoulders, fingernails digging into the fabric of his coat as he deepens the kiss. Something deep in your stomach begins to coil and writhe, your hips press closer to his. He groans softly, which makes that feeling bloom. He pulls back, resting his forehead against yours. His hand settles on the side of your neck, thumb tracing your jaw.

“Never suggest any other woman would ever be worthy of that title.”

His whispered words bring fresh tears to your eyes. He moves his fingers to your chin, his nose rubs against your cheek lovingly. 

“Ever since I saw you sit down at that piano I’ve thought of nothing but you. You closed your eyes, your fingers danced across the keys, your smile… Like the music was singing to you, telling you a secret only you’d understand. I had forgotten what that felt like��� to feel for the sake of feeling.”

His thumb traces your lower lip, his own lips drag across your cheek to your jaw. You close your eyes, letting the world fade away as you embrace this moment.

“All I’ve ever known is my duty to the crown. But you reminded me of something I’d long forgotten. Something dead and buried. I did not believe in love until the moment I saw you. You may think I’m mad…”

“No…”

He leans back just enough to meet your eye.

“I do not… think you are mad.”

The corner of his mouth twitches and you lean in to kiss it. He shudders, his hands moving up and down your back like he’s afraid to let go.

“I only want you… please…”

“Your Highness, I –”

“Xavier. Please, please call me by my name.”

You pause, every argument dissolving on your tongue. Love, the feeling without a name. What you’ve felt ever since he walked in the audience hall that day. Love at first sight only happens in fairy tales, right? No. You’ve never been so sure of anything. You love him.

“Xavier…” You whisper.

A soft gasp, he stares at your lips.

“Xavier…” You whisper again, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, your fingers sliding through his soft hair.

“Xavier…”

He closes the distance, his lips capture yours once more. The tenderness from the first kiss has melted into something passionate and raw. His lips move with intensity, faster and deeper than before. He moans and you shiver, gasping at the warmth that spreads through your chest. As his tongue slips in and your knees give out. He holds onto you, backing you both up until you feel the chaise behind you. He lowers you both onto it, one of his hands dipping to pull your leg up to his side. His fingers dig into your thigh and you whimper, letting one of your hands drop down to his face. His skin is hot, his pulse rapid, you want more. 

“Xavier…”

Whispering his name against his lips proves to be your undoing, he groans and dips his lips to your neck. He presses open mouth kisses down the side, to your collarbone and across your chest. His hand begins to pull up your skirt and he lifts himself up to look at you. You nod, urging him to continue whatever he has planned. Caution long forgotten, the feeling of safety, happiness, love… That’s all you want to feel.

His hand dips under your skirt and traces your inner thigh. You gasp, your chest rising and falling faster as he continues to place kisses to your heated flesh. His fingers move higher and higher as his lips capture yours again. Your stomach tightens with anticipation, more, more, more… 

Click

“Oh! Your Highness!”

Xavier flies backward, standing and taking a step back. You stand and straighten your dress, your eyes locking with Xavier for a moment before looking towards the door.

“Miss Raeton…”

Addison Langford stands by the door, a hand over her heart, her face barely holding back her rage. She closes the door and steps further into the room. 

“Eleanora Raeton. I am… Well, I am shocked.”

“Addison…”

“Your Highness, I do hope you are not considering a union with a compromised woman.” 

She looks over her shoulder at the door, you can hear muffled voices in the hallway. 

“Addison please…”

“You shall call on me early in the morning, your Highness. I am sure my mother will be delighted to accept your offer to marry me.”

Xavier hands curl into fists, he takes another step forward.

“I am certainly not the only guest to see Miss Raeton enter this cloakroom. And I did not come alone. I imagine the gossip will be damning when you are seen leaving, your Highness. I may, if so inclined, be willing to dampen those rumors.”

You sob, your hands clutch your stomach. Xavier turns to look at you, he reaches out but you back away. His face twists, anger and desperation melt into helplessness. Someone of his standing, even if he’s the one who compromised you it would be disgraceful for him to propose to you. His father would never approve of the marriage, he wouldn’t accept a woman like you as the future Queen of Philos. Even if Addison covers up your indiscretion, she has the upper hand. You stumble forward, locking eyes with Addison. She has the audacity to smile, but why not? She won.

You open the door and let it swing open fully. Outside, Addison’s mother waits for her, the moment she sees you she gasps. She steps forward and looks past you, seeing her daughter and the Prince inside. You close your eyes and slide past her, but you still hear her mutter under her breath. 

“Disgraceful…”

You continue down the hall, looking up to see the hall lined with a few of the Prince’s guards. They must have accompanied him. A few guests just stare, leaning to look past you. You hear their gasps and whispers as the Prince exits the cloakroom. Your name on their lips, your dress askew, the Prince’s hair a mess - the damage is done. 

Ducking down another hallway, you break into a sprint. Your shoes forgotten in the cloakroom, the cool wooden floors under your feet turn to gravel as you rush through the front door of the manor. You run, your lungs burn and your eyes sting, but you don’t stop. You stumble and fall, your knees and palms breaking open on impact. 

“Miss Raeton!”

Mr Wilson, your family's coachman, rushes to your side. He kneels and pulls his handkerchief from his breast pocket, dabbing at your bloody palms. You look up at him with tear filled eyes. 

“P-please take m-me home.”

Mr Wilson helps you up and escorts you to the carriage. He pulls out a blanket from under the seat and wraps it around your shoulders.

“I will find a servant to tell your mother where you’ve gone. I will be back in a moment.”

He turns and jogs to the house. You sit alone, shivering and bloody. You’ve ruined your reputation. You’ve ruined your family's reputation. And worst of all…

Your heart is completely shattered. ✨♔❤️‍🔥✨

AN: I know. I hurt my own feelings with this one... This is it for Part 1 of the Regency AU series. There will be a Part 2 eventually, which will be the conclusion for each story. Part 2 may have smut or there will be a "bonus chapter" for that. I like how it's SFW yet suggestive imo - let me know what you think!

If you're curious, CLICK HERE to see a breakdown for each couple & their kids/ages. I know it's a lot to keep track of when reading lol

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙: @trishiepo0 @not-so-quite-human @kitsunetori @babyx91 @libriomancer @lilyadora @crowskitten22 @letharue @silverbrain @alastor-simp @drama-trauma @0tterteeth @mysticcollectionvoid @godzillaglitter @godoffuckedupcats @klmpun @ariallaisawesome @kiude @tati-the-fangirl @mtcozylove @3fingersofscotch @stxrrielle @angelicspaceprince @hebreeee @beykyuns @sylusgirlie7 @goblynn @moonberry69 @laddelulu30 @mariojins @zhongtar @emneedshelp @xsammijoanneex @bubbleteakittyy @canta-loop @sylus-crow @mikachux3 @msturi2u @katasstrophie @never-justforever @rione-x @lalaluch @bruisedchickensoup @creator-freak

[jewish-vents]

this post will be long but I want to share what happened to my family this week while still on vacations abroad. we are french jews who made aliyah in 2013 (for context : parents + 2 girls) when I was just a young pre-teen. I'm now 22 and I realized my mom was nostalgic of France these last months especially after October 7th, and my grandparents still lives there, so we decided to go for 2 weeks and more to visit.

What happened to us this week was one of the scariest reminder of my life of why we made aliyah. Before visiting our grandparents in Paris, we went to the french riviera (Nice, cannes, Marseille) and got assaulted multiple times with my mother and little sister, fyi my dad stayed in Israel since he's working. My mom has 3 necklaces around her neck : an Israeli yellow ribbon necklace for the hostages, an Israeli map with the star of David, and the Chai חי the whole package lmao. On the first day in Nice, An arab man in his 50s in the tramway hit my mom in the back with his fist and she thought he wanted space to leave the tramway but the man actually assaulted my mom, stood up in front of her and cursed her out in arabic. I have no idea what he told her but it was so scary like ????!

Second time in the same day, we arrived to the hotel to check in and they asked us our IDs so we gave them our Israeli passports. The employee looked at us like criminals, told us he "doesnt like war" and throw the passports at us. We paid for a bedroom with a view and he gave us a wrong shitty room TWICE (coincidence? i think not).

Marseille was the worst. We sat in a restaurant on La Joliette and the waiter who was first friendly, chatted with us and asked us where we came from. My mom said Israel and the waiter who had our drinks turned his back and left us without a word, without serving us. The manager asked us to leave, my poor Mom was angry and shocked we didn't wanted to make a scandal since people were already staring at us. This literal discrimination and xenophobia.

We finally went to Paris to visit the grandparents. The city is beautiful. Last week, on March 8th was international womens day and we decided to go with mom and sister to the protest. For some reason, a pro Palestine rally infiltrated the feminist crowd and there were tons of police.

Seeing all those Palestinians flags send chills down my spine. My 15 yo little sister had a panic attack in the streets and cried because of the men wearing balaclava all around their faces with keffieh screaming. She told my mom that those men looks exactly like Hamas. My mom said it felt 'like the morning of October 7''. It was a surreal feeling one of the scariest feeling ever. I'm forever thankful for the existence of Israel, this is heartwrenching for me to realize we're really in danger outside israel. I don't even recognize my birth country where I grew up. I had tons of nice memories. We're leaving this Sunday morning and I cannot stay here any longer. The country is beautiful but this is not worth it if we are scared. We already went to other European countries like Croatia, Greece, Czech Republic and never felt unsafe but France is really scary if you're being exposed as an Israeli imo. My advice is if you're going, don't mention to anyone you're Israeli

.

[magnoliarabbit]

Protectiveness and Possessiveness in Invincible

I think Invincible did a lot to establish a core issue of Mark’s character in Season 3 — particularly how his protective instincts, while they come from pure intentions and are seen as a good masculine trait to have, can manifest in unhealthy ways.

At their core, these tendencies stem from a place of care. After what Nolan did Mark is left as the protector of his family. He steps up by offering to drop out of college to help raise Oliver, he support Debbie through her grief, he keeps them safe from people like Angstrom Levy.

Yet, when it comes to Eve, his protectiveness takes a turn, blurring a thin line from protectiveness to possessiveness.

From the beginning, Mark’s relationship with Eve brings out his irrational side. During the Flaxan invasion, he reacts aggressively and drops everything to save her. In the Season 1 finale, he insists on following her to "keep her safe," and later, he refuses to leave her hospital room—even when Cecil explicitly tells him Eve wouldn’t want him there.

His instinct isn’t to fight alongside her but to shield her from danger entirely, whether it’s against the alternate Invincible variants or Conquest. The irony is that Mark needs Eve’s help just as much as she needs his. Without her and Oliver’s intervention, he wouldn’t have survived Conquest. But he still has those expectations of himself to be the protector simply because he’s supposed to be earth strongest hero (another fun discussion to have another time about men being expected to be strong no matter what!)

The real issue is that his protectiveness morphs into entitlement over Eve. Him staying at the hospital or following to keep her safe? Eve doesn’t welcome that level of coddling. This obsession with her and that possessiveness over her is also shown within how the alternate Marks treat Eve.

The Season 2 Episode 1 Variant Invincible feels so entitled to Eve that he paralyzes her to make her stay with him forever. He does this all while thinking he's protecting her; if he paralyzes her, then she won't fight back and he and Nolan won't need to hurt her.

Another Mark variant is searching for women who embody Eve to fill a void inside him; again, obsession and entitlement. (Comic readers know what I mean)

Even Omni-Mark harbors an unexplained hatred toward her (likely over rejection, because let’s be honest—nobody wants that guy. Or because she was a thorn in his side while conquering earth. Idk if anything was ever revealed about him).

The Mark variants show extremes of how much his flaws could corrupt him.

Our Mark isn’t innocent either. During the hospital visit Cecil’s warns him that Eve would disapprove of him putting her first. He’s overstepping just like in Season 1.

Symbolically, it makes sense for him to be so fixated on shielding her: Eve is coded as unapologetically feminine, while the Viltrumites embody toxic masculinity at its worst. Mark wants to defend her from that brutality, especially after seeing how easily Viltrumite strength can overpower her. But Eve has been a hero longer than Mark and understands the job’s risks and prioritizes saving others over her own safety. She’s feminine, that’s why she cares about helping others outside of fighting. That’s why she doesn’t want to be protected. By putting her above the mission, Mark disregards her agency—something she’s called him out for before in Season 1.

FYI, the show amplifies these flaws compared to the comics. Cecil doesn’t mention Eve would be upset with Mark over the hospital thing, so the show highlights Eve’s frustration over being coddled so much more than the comics.

Season 3 and those Mark being protective scenes in Season 1 finale felt like a set up to me. I really do believe we’re going to be tackling Mark’s possessiveness issue soon. We do discuss his obsessions over fighting to keep his people safe to an unhealthy degree in the comics but Season 3 feels like it’s kicking it up a notch and planting the seeds for something similar happening much earlier.

Mark’s heart is in the right place, but he needs to learn to respect Eve’s autonomy and that he needs her just as much as she needs him. We see what letting that unhealthy possessiveness can do to him. And again, I do think this is foreshadowing for Eve being very unhappy with Mark soon when she finds out about the hospital thing. I hope she will be, because they need to bounce back from the mid writing on Eve in Season 3.

[fan-goddess]

‘His ceremonies laid by, in his nakedness he appears but a man’

A/N: Surprise! I'm making this a strange sort of drabble like series with Aemond and dragonseed! This title is long af but the quote so fits I love/hate it! It ain’t entirely fully proofread so errors may pop up I may correct later fyi

Warnings: Smut, dragonseed is back and unnamed as ever, brothel working, sex working, not dark!Aemond but clingy at nonetheless! (If I miss any let me know!)

Taglist: @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee

Series Thing Masterlist

The men you were hired to please in the nicest of terms were always much older and sweaty than you, as if they had competed in two tourniments before arriving. Though the likelihood that they had even competed in one throughout their lifetimes was slimmer than they had even been.

The young men were always given to the more older, experienced ladies for their teachings, or so the brothel madam would sometimes laugh as the young lads were dragged by their hands to a room beyond the main hall. It was a rare time whenever a younger looking man would specifically request a more younger lady, as the older the men were the younger the ladies sent to their assigned room became.

That day, you had already been paid for by three men whose skin dripped in exhausted sweat and stained the covers of the bed with a mixture of their bodily fluids. By the time night came around though, the brothel bellow became heaving with men of all ages, a familiar head of short silver locks came bounding through them with a practised ease.

His voice rang through the crowd staring at the breasts of the ladies he was offered by the Madame. Yet when he looked up to the balcony ledge where you were perched watching the sights bellow, he stopped where he had stood, and pointed with a fierce look in his eye that you knew all too well in a man.

The look of a predator who has caught sight of fresh game, and is ready to begin the hunt of the night.

The eldest son of the king, the boy whispered by all to become the future king of the seven kingdoms of course choosing to ignore with hated stares his elder sister, points a finger to you and by the way his lips move you know he has demanded a reduced price.

He may have more money than all the men in the room combined but even he knows like any poor man how to strike the right sort of bargain for a better price.

That night, you were bought and fucked by a Targaryen for the first time in your life. A service that used to be an honour to the highest of all for whores, or at least it was before the Targaryen men became too indifferent to their flesh of the night.

It appeared the once well known hunger of purpled eyed silver haired flesh has trickled down to its last generation, as the man who’d left his spent to trickle down your thighs gave no indication that he desired you particularly for your hair or for your eyes.

He barely even looked at you as he forcibly took you from behind and pushed your face into the thin sheets that had yellowed in age.

He even left as soon as he came, quite literally, as by the time you looked around the door was swung open and the overwhelming stench of alcohol remained pungent. It appeared this young Prince had a thin layer of wine on his skin instead of the usual stench of overwhelming sweat.

You did not see the recognisable sight of silver locks for quite some time after that. Many a nights were you forced to look away to the window as men of all hair but silver took you on the bed you fucked to keep. Yet they were no different from the eldest prince at all. They all had only the idea of completion in mind.

Which you suppose was why it was so shocking when the infamous one-eyed Prince came to the brothel in search of a women to warm his cock, and laid a single eye on you as you stood oblivious on the same balcony you had stood on when you were chosen by his brother.

It was like a strange sick dream when you saw the younger Prince refuse to take his eye off you as he bargained a price with the Madame. Again, he too knew how to strike a deal similarly to his eldest acknowledged sibling.

When the Prince finally entered your chambers and met eyes with your naked form sitting on the bed awaiting to be told the orders, it was made quite quickly to you that the One-Eyed Prince was not like a regular laying customer.

Yet he still had his regular moments it seems, as while he managed to humanise your body, he still found a way to objectify your soul.

The Prince uses you like any other man would, and yet he still somehow manages to find a way to make you feel mortal.

While he takes you, he has you on your back and his eye looking deeply into your own. A single hand of his stroking the left side of your face while a thumb catches on the edge of your lips.

Even after spilling his spent of the skin of your stomach, he explains he cannot dare father a bastard and bring the shame to his already soiled family legacy. Going as far as to grab a lone stained cloth from somewhere in the room to mop up his cooled down spent away and throws someplace random.

The one-eyed Prince stays with you the whole of that night and morning, something you could easily say was a first in your working career.

His head lays on your overworked thighs that twitch randomly in patterns even he with his highly educated mind cannot comprehend. But he does not complain at all, instead only burrowing further into your overwhelming warmth you subconsciously provide him with.

You dare not to say anything as you place a hand on his head and thread your fingers through his hair, waiting with baited breath as his lets out a tired sigh and wraps his arms around your body tighter.

When your fingertips catch on the rough leather of his patch you do not dare take it off in fear of being caught in the familiar feeling of a dragons rage. So you merely ghost your hand over it and he does not make a disapproving sound.

He reminds you heavily of a child craving a mother’s affection, even though you know he has one waiting no doubt anxiously for him in his own chambers back up at the castle. Yet it appears the prince lives in a strange limbo of ignorant bliss, as you can feel his eyelashes brush lightly against the skin of your thigh as he closes his eye, and not a minute later you can feel his bodies breath even out as he begins drifting away.

The One-Eyed Prince falls asleep against your naked spent body, and you can only force your body to relax as your eyes shut tightly and sleep to not come at an easy price. For that night as the Prince rests by the base of your stomach, dreams fill your head of overwhelming fire and blood comes storming down around you.

At the end of your dream mere seconds before you are awoken by the grumbling child, a two eyed man with features mimicking yours holds a sword angled to the base of your throat and sneers at you, before allowing the blade to swing you with heavy cost.

[hyperionheights]

bones sexuality headcanons

yeah i dont have proof (except angela) i just Know. call it my lesbian spidey senses. disclaimer that those are MY headcanons, you can have your own opinions on those ofc

main characters:

brennan: bi (preference for ugly men... but i digress). she probably started exploring her sexual orientiation in college and came to the conclusion that she's attracted to every gender to varying degrees. she's probably tongue kissed angela a few times pre season 1

booth: cishet ally! ⭐️ he's a bit confused but he's got the spirit, i'll give him that.. bi wife energy start playing whenever he walks into the room

zack: gayboi with a bad case of hero worship for dr brennan. naomi from paleonthology made him realise this isnt really what he'd like to excavate, if you get the gist... ;) (ew)

angela: imo? bi, but it's up to anyone. canon queer and i'm very happy about it

hodgins: bi. putting my foot down on this one- to me, hodgela is bi4bi. one day early into the series angela goes "why is everyone so hot... being bi is so hard" and hodgins is like "yeah, tell me about it" and they have a Oh, You Too? moment

cam: distinguished (ex-disaster) pan. she's all cool and collected now but in middle school she was probably stuttering whenever she saw a pretty girl

sweets: pan. boykisser. i just KNOW. that man is not heterosexual. probably had a few boyfriends in high school too

aubrey: bi? preference for women but in an alternate universe he and sweets are a thing

goodman: token straightie along with booth except i actually like him even tho even tho he took a 2 month sabbatical and never came back

squinterns:

clark: bi. a bit repressed and only realised it after breaking up with nora but as long as he gets there it's fine

daisy: pan. absolute girlkisser. she has the wlw equivalent of whatever zack felt for dr brennan. swaisy is a disaster pan couple.

fisher: pan- and i wont have it any other way. he was 100% checking sweets out when he came over to b&b's in s8, so i like to think when hodgins asks sweets "what is it with you and interns?" in 9x23 he's including fisher

wendell: bi and in a lab au he's dating vincent thank you

vincent: english twink and i think he and wendell should kiss in the lab lost & found

arastoo: straightie but we still love him. pan wife energy since he and cam are married

finn: god, i have No Idea but i have a feeling he doesn't either

wells: aro, and maybe ace too, but fyi even if he wasn't no one would want him

jessica: ... i used to say lesbian but i kinda let the jaubrey of it all get to me... pan vibes perhaps? i'll have to think it over. in another universe she and daisy are a thing too btw

other characters:

caroline julian:... lesbian. no i will not give an explanation for this one. sham marriage and all.

karen delfs: big pansexual energy coming from this random profiler?? i like her

villains: (do not take those seriously, but also...)

pelant: unlabeled. getting strangled by hodgins awoke something in him but he didnt have the time to figure it out between 8x01 and 9x04

taffet: very VERY mean lesbian

epps: heterosexual incel

broadsky: internalised homophobia over booth, clearly

kovac: the man pretended to be married to his sister. i'm not sure i even wanna know

[mandaplease10]

A Polin Take Nobody Asked For #5

*Penelope & Colin Aren't Friends*

Once again, there are complaints about how Pen & Colin were never actually friends because we never see them be friends. We're simply only told they are friends and now we're supposed to believe Colin loves her after saying he would never court.

Well, I am here to tell you why that is wrong. Oh and someone on twitter claimed this season has no narrative... like are we watching the same show??

FYI this is a long post!

Season 1:

Colin dances with Penelope after Cressida spills a drink on her. Even before this, he sought her out to have a conversation with her.

There are several times we see Colin and Penelope speaking at balls or gatherings.

Penelope tries to tell him about Marina and he is grateful for her friendship and care, but he doesn't listen to her because he thinks he knows Marina. Yet, he still took the time to hear her out for the most part.

Once Marina's secret is revealed, Colin apologizes to Pen and recognizes she was just trying to look out for him.

Colin goes traveling the first time because of Pen inspiring him to do so.

Colin singing in the drawing room and lowers his voice/stars at Pen when she walks in.

Season 2:

Their letters - This is a huge element to their friendship and their storyline. Honestly, I would love to have seen what their letters entailed over the years. Maybe one day we'll have a scene of them going through their old letters or something.

Colin's arrival - hello! That look he gives her when he sees her there in the drawing room after greeting his family. I believe had Hyacinth and Gregory not rushed him and Anthony didn't walk in to go to the races, he would have walked over and said something to her.

At the races- he sees Pen and walks over to her. He initiates the conversation and talks about their letters until Eloise ruins the moment.

Another moment he initiates a conversation is when Pen assumes he met someone on his travels and he talks about how he 'found himself' thanks to her letters.

Lady Crane was right about you - He knows that Pen cares for him and is special in his life and the fact that someone else saw that made him open his eyes a little more.

Defending the Featheringtons - Colin stood up to his friend Will when he said something negative about Pen's family and then again when he realized Jack was scheming around.

You are special to me. I will always look out for you - HELLO! Yes, Colin has a hero complex, but he doesn't do this for everyone! He doesn't seek out to help Cressida or other women of TON, but he risked standing up to a "Lord" to save Pen's family from ruin.

You are Pen. You are my friend - Colin literally calls her his friend and holds her above just another woman. Yes, in this moment she was sort of friend zoned, but the fact he still wanted her in his life, means something.

"I would never court Penelope Featherington" - Yes, this was not a good look, but this was also Colin trying to put on a facade in front of the gentleman. Plus, I also believe that in his state of mind, what he was doing and how he is around Pen, is just how they are together, yet in other's eyes, it was very much courting action.

Season 3:

His arrival - Immediately looks for Pen and when he doesn't see her, looks towards her house confused as to why she isn't present.

The Gardens - Smiles when he sees her and is eager to talk to her, upset when she cuts their conversation short.

The ball - Stares at her and watches her from afar and rushes after her when he sees her in distress.

Goodnight Mr. Bridgerton - Tries to joke around with her and have a friendly conversation, but realizes something is wrong. Feels horrid when he realizes why she is upset with him and wants to talk it out, gets upset when she leaves.

The Featherington Garden - Again, he seeks her out because he wants to make things right with her. THIS ENTIRE SCENE IS PRACTICALLY A WHY YOU ARE SPECIAL AND MORE THAN A FRIEND TO ME DECLARATION. If you actually watch this entire scene, you will see that there is genuine friendship and love there.

The Meet Cute - Seriously, the fact that HE remembers how they met AND he was the one who brought it up, says A LOT.

The Drawing Room - He listened to her and brought her to a place that makes her comfortable. He even made sure it was during a time when they would be alone. Also, it is obvious he feels something during the touch of hands and her attempt at flirting with him.

The Ball - They have yet another conversation amongst the two of them and he encourages her to talk to someone. Then they have a laugh. A genuine laugh, one that she never really had with Debling later on... Then we have the little bouts of jealous Colin when she's speaking to Lord Remington. Then how angry he gets when the word gets out about him and Pen and how he rushes after her in worry.

The First Kiss - Once again, Colin is seeking her out... in the middle of the night... bribing her maid for alone time. Like... not just anyone does that. Colin only had to do the one kiss. The one peck because that was all Pen asked for, but guess what? He went in for another one and would have kissed her again if she didn't leave. We can tell on his face, that he felt something he never felt before.

The Dream - Most people don't have romantic dreams about their friends unless there are feelings there.

The Willow Tree - The awkwardness is everything and pure friends to lovers.

I could continue the rest of their moments, but I'm not going to because so many of the same people keep saying the only reason Colin wanted Pen is because of Debling, well guess what everything that I listed above is PRE DEBLING. Yes, there is that moment in episode 1, but it isn't until episode 3 when Debling actively tries to pursue Pen and vice versa.

So, yeah, Polin haters can keep complaining and trying to make excuses as to why they dislike the season, but the receipts are the there to debunk those claims.

[goosefruit]

rock, paper, …

vanessa shelly x fem!reader

subby vanessa 💖

cw: smut, scissoring, masturbation, pillow humping, porn watching, mentions of oral sex

a/n: hello im back from the dead and fyi im sorry if this is so unserious but i just rly wanted to write this for some reason

================================================

You had a hunch of where you could find Vanessa when you came home to an eerily silent house. 

Creeping up to the bedroom door, your suspicions were confirmed by the faintest groans coming from the room. You couldn’t help but smile at the familiar noise, one that made you squeeze your thighs together as you anticipated what awaited you on the other side of the door. Making an effort to be quiet, you entered. 

A very gorgeous and very naked Vanessa laid on the bed, a fluffy pillow between her legs and a laptop propped up beside her. Even from here, you could see the large wet patch forming as she desperately rocked her hips back and forth, the flush on her pale skin growing deeper with every gasp that fell from her lips. 

Her work clothes were strewn messily on the floor, evidently in a frantic rush.

Poor Vanessa. So horny she could hardly wait till she got home.

It almost made you want to forgive her for having fun without you. 

You stood there, admiring her, for only moments more before she realized your presence. 

“Oh shit! I’m- sorry baby, I lost track of time.” Vanessa slammed the laptop shut in one swift movement while reaching over to cover herself with the bedsheets. Your usually dominant girlfriend melted into a puddle of embarrassment at being caught in such a position.

“I’m quite offended that you didn’t invite me to join,” you rolled your eyes at her playfully, sauntering up to her side of the bed. “And what were you watching? Don’t tell me those pictures I sent to you just last week weren’t enough!”

“I just, um—had fantasies.” 

She made no attempt to stop you as you reached for her laptop, and you took that as permission to flip it open.

“Oh, you dirty girl…” you mumbled as the screen lit up to reveal a video of two women with their thighs interlocked, wet cores pressing up against each other. One of them was blonde, and the other had hair that resembled yours. “So this is what you fantasize about us doing?”

A little noise escaped from the back of her throat as she met your gaze—pupils sinfully blown, green eyes slightly hooded over as if to plead with you. The sound of shifting beneath the sheets told you that she continued to pleasure herself against the pillow. 

“Y/N. My pussy aches, fuck, so bad, every time I think about rubbing it on yours. I can’t help myself.” She panted, lids drooping though she tried to maintain eye contact.

“Let me give you what you so desperately need, sweet girl. Come here.”

It took mere seconds for your clothes to join Vanessa’s on the floor. You climbed on top of her, tangling your fingers deep in her hair, savouring her lips in a heated kiss. Her needy moans sent goosebumps along your skin, and you were soaked, through and through. It drove you crazy when your girlfriend was loud in bed. 

Peeling back the sheets, you pulled away from her mouth to take in her naked form. You grabbed the pillow from between her thighs, the musky scent of her sticky goodness lingering on the fabric.

“So perfect, baby,” you held one of her legs up, allowing yourself to shimmy between them, just until your vulvas were inches away from touching. “Gonna bury my face in this pussy after we’re done here.”

Her hands gripped on to your hips as she tried to pull you in closer, but you wanted to take your time with her, tease her a little.

“Y/N, I swear to god…”  

You rolled your hips forward so that you barely grazed against her. A shaky moan sounded in the back of your throat at how slippery she felt — heaven. Pure heaven. 

Vanessa seemed to agree, throwing her head back as her chest heaved with gasps and pants. Her nails dug into the skin of your hips. Unable to hold back for any longer, you closed the distance between you, thighs fitting together like the last two pieces of a puzzle waiting to be solved.

The first sensation melted away any thoughts left in your head. So warm, and so, so, wet. 

“Fuuuck,” Vanessa groaned, her voice raspy and gravelly. 

You grinded frantically, trying to find some friction for your swollen clit. The squelch of wetness joined the chorus of lewd sounds that already filled the room. 

“Mmm- you like that baby?” You panted out. “Doesn’t my pussy feel so much better than that damn pillow? Hmm?”

“Oh yes, baby, you feel so fucking amazing. Fuck…don’t stop, please go faster..” Her hips moved in small circles, and she let out a soft moan every time it hit the spot just right. 

“No pillow can fuck you as good as I can. Can a pillow fuck you like this?”

“No! Only you can!” Vanessa’s mouth fell open as her brows began to furrow. 

The whole bed shook from your effort, and you had to interrupt the intensity of the moment to move her laptop—that was still on the bed—to the night stand. She giggled as you stretched over, barely reaching the nightstand, given your current position.

Her hands traveled up your chest, massaging your tits and admiring how your nipples hardened under her touch.

“Let’s cum together,” she gazed up at you, full of lust, immediately bringing the mood back.

It only took minutes more before you were both on the edge. Every time your clit bumped against hers, you became increasingly aware that you weren’t going to last very much longer.

“Nessy, I’m close,” you hated how pathetic you sounded in that moment, but were too horny to care. 

Vanessa grabbed your hips once again, and gave a few more firm thrusts. 

That was all you needed. The pressure ignited the fireworks in your stomach, setting off explosions of pleasure. Vanessa squeezed her eyes shut, the arch in her back and the twitch of her thighs telling you that she too, had teetered off the edge.

“I’m in love with your pussy,” she moaned blissfully, words slurred. 

You tried to reciprocate, but, well—a hoarse scream was all you managed. 

For a minute or two after, you remained in your position, basking in the afterglow. Her sweaty body underneath you, core still radiating warmth against your own. 

“So,” you broke the silence, smiling at her. 

“So..” she beamed back.

Slowly, you untangled your shaky legs from hers, a string of wetness connecting her to you for a moment longer. You leaned in to kiss her, and ran your tongue along her chapped lips. 

“By the way, I haven’t forgotten about the promise I made earlier,” you whispered into the kiss suggestively. “I still want my dinner.”

“All yours,” she whispered back. “Though I wonder if it will taste any different…now that your uh…juice is mixed in with mine.”

“Ooh, can’t wait! It’s like a new smoothie flavour!”

She shook her head, laughing, as you got on your stomach. 

[m-ete0ra]

(FYI NOT NAMI but I did use Nami and Viví as a reference, this is my friend)

—— “Mugiwara Mischief ”——

This is my first time drawing One Piece and trying to copy the iconic style, but i think it fits very well for a rendered attempt! 😄 i've drawn luffy before, just for myself (bro i love his dumbass sm but my favorite is DoFlamingo >w>). This is also my first time drawing a female character in a style different from how I usually portray women in anime. I typically don't draw round eyes or work in this particular style, so it was an interesting challenge :T

Context: This was a gift for a friend's birthday, and i printed it out poster-style for her to hang in her room 🥰

[oscconfessions]

Hot take but why are Cabby and Suitcase haters one in the same, if ykyk hate what you want ig but why so, aggressive abt it, why go into places that are all for this character and then start yapping abt how much you hate the character

then complain… when ppl tell u to stop… like you put urself in this situation… you could’ve avoided that… this rlly goes for all haters of characters who intentionally bother fans of said character for whatever reason like just hate with other haters why bother going into spaces where you know it’s gonna be a fan club of a character hate I don’t understand

Back to cabcase // not the ship but calling ‘em cabcase to address same issues // but erm… do you guys have a problem with women winning or… “ugh ur reaching this is not misogynistic!! biggest reach ever u have no real reasons!!”

Idkkk chat I think constantly berating and belittling two characters for being ‘too emotional and sensitive’ as well as actively believing the only reason they won is bc they have mental issues is… iffy… just maybe…

and just to b sure I don’t come off as bias. I WANTED KNIFE TO WIN. I WANTED HIM TO WIN SO BADDD UGHHHHHH!!! WDYM HE DIDNT WIN!!!!

But watching these Case haters come out of no where… saying shit like “oh I’ve always hated Suitcase” “She was better when she spoke less” “She only won bc she’s a mentally ill woman” girl don’t pmo I know what you are and nobody is surprised to see that these are the same ppl who were mad when Cabby won; and fyi again I WANTED BALLOON TO WIN TOO UGHHHHHH I CAN NEVER WINNNNNNNN

But genuinely all of this shit that’s targeted towards Cabcase feels so misogynistic it’s not even funny especially the “over dramatic” bits

fym overdramatic?? If you got your reality shattered or constantly felt you had to prove you weren’t a manipulative monster you would probably “raise your voice a little” too

Balloon can be overdramatic, ofc he can be overdramatic he’s a goddamn poet. A POET. He literally screams and yells and raises his voice more than Suitcase ever did and y’all wanna call her overdramatic and whiny?

Knife literally killed ppl lol! He has a Dora doll as a comfort item! // good for him // He resorts to violence as his first instinct to emotional turmoil!! When he got his reality shattered same time as Case He got so overwhelmed with his anger (which is an emotion) he “DRAMATICALLY” flew across the room to punch that CEO (dramatically) but Suits crying?? CRYING THAT UR NOT REAL?? That’s too far!!! Be a man!!

Cabby crying?? Cabby being angry?? Bc she’s afraid she’ll never be anything more than just a screw up? No matter how hard she tries?? That’s too much!! She’s being overdramatic!! Wahwahwah!! She needs to “man” up!!

I will never ever fw a cabcase hater, I live by the // hate what you wanna hate, love what you wanna love // mentality. But as somebody who could probably care less for these two winners and was literally pissed tf when they won… the hatred they get is so blatantly rooted in the fact they’re women. And no matter how much I bring up these talking points bitches will still go and yell “REACHING WAAAA REACHINGGGG UGGHHHH THEYRE FICTIONALLL” while simultaneously saying the most absurd things abt real women // fiction affects reality //

If you hate cabcase, more power to you. If you actively put down ppl who love cabcase I’ll be the first to tell you that you are a very miserable kind of person.

Hate responsibly ig. Idgaf it’s midnight I’m tired I’m a ghostly ghoul I’m a lesbian protector I’m Knife from Inanimate Insanity and I should’ve won and hating women is not cool goodnight or don’t I guess

.

[evelyns-envy]

✎why can't we just...love like kids?

synopsis: you and Aaron Warner's families have been friends for decades. it started with your great grandparents, leading all the way down to the two of you. when Aaron gets overwhelmed at one of Anderson's huge business parties, he seeks refuge in a certain other 15 year old who he may or may not be secretly head over heels for.

warnings! - aaron being soft for once, comfort, aaron ranting, mentions of abuse (anderson), this is in bullet point format bc i find it easier to read!, yelling, aaron on the verge of a panic attack, occasional use of y/n (i know i know im sorry), alcohol!

THIS IS PART ONE FYI PT 2 WILL BE LINKED WHEN FINISHED!

SETTING THE SCENE

before the world went entirely to shit, Paris Anderson would have constant business meetings.

some would end up becoming more of a large party, with quite a bit of drinking involved.

the first family ever on the invite list was yours, considering how far back you guys went.

your father was heavily involved with the Reestablishment, alongside Anderson, causing you and Aaron to get very close very quickly.

while the adults drank, argued, and slurred their harsh words, you and Aaron would seek out a place to truly hear each other speak.

y'all's main "hiding spot" was the lush gardens behind the Anderson Estate.

however, some events would occupy the serene space, causing you and Aaron to opt for his lavish bedroom instead.

as long as you two were together, it really only mattered that you were together, two fifteen year old's just trying to live for a little.

THE 14TH ANNUAL BALL.

Anderson liked to call the business parties "balls" to make it seem fancier than a bunch of spiteful adults mocking each other and yelling.

Aaron however, called them "bitchass anger meetings".

they all sat in the dining hall, massive circular table taking up the entire room, enough chairs to seat about 200 people.

yet the table was split into three different sections!

one section was dedicated to the men and women who were members of the Reestablishment, one for their spouses and the small children, and the last section for the adolescents.

you and Aaron were never more than a seat apart, more than likely right next to each other.

you two were an impermeable duo, no other kids daring to try and come between you both.

when y'all eventually snuck off once the "ball" got rowdy, it was out of the blue to no one.

June 18th, 7:43 PM.

they had begun.

begun the drunken words which they would regret in the morning (or not.)

Aaron had been called over to the adults section by his father about 15 minutes ago.

you could see him there blonde hair slightly messy from your fingers running through it earlier when you were attempting to fix a stray hair.

his suit was perfectly pressed, standing by his father's side as if he was a statue. he didn't move, didn't blink, didn't speak unless spoken to.

how he was raised.

"it's pitiful, truly. he's going to grow up to be just like his daddy, cruel and damn mean."

a voice whispered to your right, snapping you out of your trance.

"Aaron is nothing like Anderson- and he never will be. shut your trap before i staple it shut."

that sort of tone was reserved for people talking shit about the few people you genuinely cared about and would defend with your life- one of them being Aaron Warner.

the girl's eyes went wide and she averted her gaze from you, staring at her plate.

you rolled your eyes, poking uninterestedly at the shredded pork on your plate.

when you look back up at the stiff boy next to Anderson, you find yourself making eye contact with him.

you smiled (like an absolute idiot), and it was visible that was trying not to do the exact same.

you nodded towards the large glass door on the right side of the ballroom, silently hoping he would get the gesture and follow you outside whenever he was dismissed.

he nodded faintly ensuring no one saw him move without permission.

you rose from your seat hastily, eager to get some fresh air (and to see him heheh)

little did you know... it would be a little until your best friend was allowed to leave.

heheh

[taki118]

Yakuza Fiance ep 5 Manga Comparison

After the overstuffed ep 4 ep 5 is a breath of fresh air still some context missed but not as badly, as always the differences are below, and I'm using fantranslations cause I'm lazy.

So thankfully they did keep the conversation I said the dropped last time. Re-ordering things is still dumb to me (I think the Renji talk would have been a better cold open) but at least its here. Though again there are some differences

For one they took out Yoshino noticing all the missed calls/messages from Kirishima which is a funny thing. The anime does make up for by actually having Yoshinos head move around the room as Kirishima points out weak points which is a nice gag that takes advantage of the medium (wish they would continue that)

(Not relevant but I think the box of sauces they show at the end of the scene is reference to an extra the manga had about Tokyo not having a bunch of sauces that Osaka has)

For once the anime adds in a scene that isn't ominous starring, giving us Yoshino looking at test results to flow into her fears about the actual exams, which is nice.

So its not a change here but due to pervious change the dialogue in the anime makes less sense. So as I said in ep 4 when Yoshino is talking to Kirishima about her dad he lets her in on the fact he's looked into her family so when Yoshino asks him here how much he knows about Tsubaki it makes sense. Because the anime dropped this bit the anime view has to assume that like Yoshino assumes he did this.

So here is a bit they dropped during the conversation after meeting Tsubaki that I feel like is a waste

Yoshino more explains what she means when she says Tsuabki is such a Kyoto girl, noting they went all the way to Ise once and just had food from a Kyoto restaurant chain. Its funny and sad to see it go but overall ok to drop.

This isn't like a dialogue change but a shot change kinda I havent mentioned it much but a lot of the shot choices the anime makes are odd but this one is a bit of a loss. When Yoshino looks at the sandals in the anime she just does a height comparision with Kirishima and its cute but

But its not as cute as Yoshino tugging Kirishima by the arm to look with her. Also it cuts that Tsubaki is starring at Kirishima who's obviously enjoying the attention.

The conversation Tsubaki has with Kirishima about his behavior towards Yoshino (which FYI is really important and I could talk more on) is pretty accurate a few reorderings but this was dropped and i just think its a shame

Its good insight, and an added visual to help bring everything across.

Anyway the lead into Tsuabki and Kirishimas "date" is much the same the big drop is this bit with Yoshino

It again shows that she is a lot smarter than she gives herself credit for, knowing what they'll talk about.

So the ferris wheel scene is pretty accurate but they left out a rather important bit where Kirishima is explaining his theory about Yoshino having never lost a kidney.

They don't show HOW Kirishima knew the scar wasn't quite right for kidney removal, in the anime the assumption is that he looked it up in the manga they note that he had a specialist take a look this specialist being one of his friends with benefits. This is important because this lets you in one WHY Kirishima is primarily with these women (and they are all women) all of them have something he needs, connections, information or skills that he does not have access to normally. He's not just sleeping around for the fun of it even Ayano the girl we see in ep 3, she's a model with boyfriend who has connections. This is subtle set up to pay offs down the line as Kirishimas actions are better explained. Its a rather important loss and really eye opening on re reads as things begin to click.

and this leads into another thing where technically its the same but subtleties are missed. The anime just has Tsubaki note this is an odd convo on a ferris wheel and questioning why Kirishima is so fixated on Yoshino, before Kirishima talks about the train ticket.

The manga however first has Kirishima state he wished he could be on the ferris wheel with Yoshino, which adds context to why Tsubaki asks her question. Then Kirishima hesitates, he thinks for a moment before bringing it up because he knows this information will get to Yoshino and he's weighing his options. It adds weight to what he says letting the reader know that this is indeed important. Also it removes a line where Kirishima explains he wasn't given any extra funds so he had to scrape it together another hint for later.

So the rest of the ep is pretty accurate, nothing I can really take too much note of, not as much as other episodes but what was dropped is pretty disappointing in many ways.

[bluedesertbruja]

This post is super long and idk who will read it but if there's anything I love to do on the internet its post aimlessly to no one. (anyway)

It gets said a lot that Betty was naïve in how she entered her relationship with Armando, but we fail to take into account how desperate Betty was to live her own life. From the beginning of her character arc she talks about needing a change.

It starts with Roman's invitation, saying he has a guy for Betty but she needs to ask permission (at her 25 yrs of age). Don Hermes says no.

Betty argues back. Don Hermes' excuse is 'you can't go out with strangers'. But Betty isn't really fighting about going out with some guy. Deep down she knows Roman and his neighborhood troublemaking annoying friends are up to no good. It's not about them. It's about her wanting something, asking for it and being denied.

The scene ends like this:

He says the world is dangerous for women and she doesn't understand that. She claims that she can defend herself and he says the above. Betty runs off crying. Dona Julia goes after her and when she returns Don Hermes asks if she's calmed down. From that question alone, it seems as if this isn't the first time Betty has fought with her dad about the rules he imposes upon her. Nor is it the first time that Betty has ran out of a room crying bc she fought with him and lost.

This has happened before.

I don't want to assume that everyone feels the way I feel about Don Hermes, which is that he's annoying. (I'm using 'annoying' as a broad term to describe his overprotection and the traditional\patriarchal way he runs his household, fyi, I know its there. I see it. But I'm not going to delve in that direction).

But there's a reason he's annoying (overprotective). Everything he does for Betty is laced with good intentions, but those good intentions are a double edged sword. At this stage in the story he appears overprotective and suffocating. It's when Dona Julia is pleading with him to let Betty go out that we hear a mention about Miguel (whose original name was 'Juan Ramon' but gets changed to 'Miguel' later on)--a guy who Betty cared about but 'disappeared'.

Let's backtrack to Betty running out of the room when Don Hermes says no. She cries to her mother about how overprotective and controlling her dad is. It's one of the few times Betty is open with someone about how she feels about the way he treats her. We get brief information about how he decided her education, about how she was sent to catholic school, how she wasn't allowed to hang out with the other girls bc she was too young, that the only male friend she was allowed to have was Nicolas and it was bc they were 'practically raised together' (and bc they knew his mother).

She continues to say ‘how is a man going to see me as a normal woman if you keep me treating me like a child? When the only thing I do is stay locked away in this room with only books and stuffed animals?’ The Miguel Situation gets its first mention and its foreshadowed that it hurt Don Hermes and Dona Julia to see their daughter suffer, but Betty says that one bad experience shouldn’t be a reason why she stays that way the rest of her life (which is very brave of her to say considering we know later how afraid she is of letting herself fall deeper in love with Armando).

The last thing she says to Dona Julia is key,

Betty's running theme is change. The eagerness of something to change. Either she needs to change or her dad needs to change. Something needs to change bc she knows she can't keep living the way she's living. She's desperate for something, anything to happen in her life. She goes on to say:

'Queira la major estudiante, la tuvo. La queria graduada con honores, especialiaziones, la tuvo. La queira trabajando en un gran empresa, la tiene trabajando en un a gran empresa. Yo ya les cumpli. Ahora quiero cumplir con mi vida.’

Again, it's not only about going out with some guy. It's about Betty living her own life now that she's done all the things that have been asked of her. From Betty's pov, she's played by the rules, so at what point is she free to do what she wants?

She is the quintessential good daughter, quintessential good student, and later on the quintessential loyal employee that becomes the quintessential loyal clandestine girlfriend--bc those were the rules she was told to play by. But she's at a point in her life where that's not enough to sustain her.

After hearing this, Dona Julia goes back to Don Hermes to plead on behalf of her daughter, however she says something concerning:

Dona Julia is afraid that if Don Hermes doesn't loosen his restrictions, that Betty will have a nervous breakdown and fall into a depression that will cause her to move out of the house.

Sidestepping the 'what if our daughter moves out' comment---

When Betty confides in Armando about her relationship with Miguel and how it ended, she doesn't call it 'depression'--however the way she describes it is very intune with what depression is.

She didn't want to live, she cried many nights, she missed classes at university. She lost the motivation to do anything. This is more than just a 'break up'. It's a traumatic experience and its aftermath is a period of depression that Betty almost didn't survive. Her parents watched her go through this, helplessly and Betty claims it's why her dad protects her so much.

Here we see her showing that she understands Don Hermes and why he does what he does. However, when we see Betty's childhood flashbacks post letter, we see that Don Hermes has always been this way as a consequence of how the world treats his daughter. We see that Betty gets bullied, marginalized--no loving parent wants their child to suffer. So he isolates her from that world so that nothing bad can ever touch her. He tries to provide her with everything he can--books and stuffed animals. Things to fill a void with.

No one can blame him for wanting to protect his daughter, but by isolating her he inadvertently teaches Betty that the solution to when things get hard is to lock yourself away and internalize everything.

In Don Hermes' defense his child rearing is mostly focused on ethics and math. A parent does what they can. So it's no surprise that after the Miguel Incident, he became even more tightly reigned over Betty's life. But again, it does more harm than good.

After Betty's ghosted by Roman and his sketchy loser friend, she's disappointed and cries. Don Hermes has no idea how to comfort or understand a 25 year old woman as he does not see her as one. He assuages her like a father would a child. He says 'We'll go do something together as a family. We'll go see a movie on Friday, champ'. (Not a literal translation). Then he says to Dona Julia, 'If I hadn't given her permission to begin with, then she wouldn't be upset about being (plantada\ghosted)'. He has no problem being seen as the bad guy in Betty's eyes if it means she avoids getting hurt in a worse way.

A couple days later, Don Hermes insists on driving her to work instead of her walking to her bus stop bc he fears she'll run into Roman and his current loser friends.

Betty says to him:

'Let me handle it' she says. Don Hermes doesn't look convinced. And then immediately Nicolas shows up at her door:

Dona Julia is also looking out for Betty and off screen took it upon herself to have Nicolas walk her to the bus stop that morning. She knows Betty needs some kind independence but using Nicolas as an intermediary gives her reassurance.

Betty rejects both options and rushes out the door. Don Hermes, pulling a Dona Julia, takes Nicolas with him and follows Betty on her way to her stop just in case something happens. What they see is Betty doing what she said she would do--handle it.

When left to her own devices Betty can and will handle things on her own, but both her parents insist in their own ways, to keep her in a protective bubble.

As the series progresses we see Betty become friends with el curatel, more specifically Aura Maria. We can all recall when AM has Betty join her on a double date and said date doesn't end well for Betty. Her date is uninterested, rude--despite Betty's best efforts. She gets home late and her dad is not happy. He calls her a 'descarda' when he sees the car dropping her off and then claims she didn't ask permission, to which Betty says 'Well I called my mom and let her know bc you weren't home'. Which leads to this:

Betty becomes the sole breadwinner of her household at some point but Don Hermes reminds her that that doesn't give her any right to decide what she can do with her free time or what time she can come home at. He then makes claims about AM and the men AM is associated with. Betty then defends her and the men (even tho they were lame):

Betty's face here is trying to contain herself but you can tell she's upset. Especially bc it wasn't the best evening, so to be getting yelled at over it doesn't feel worth it. But also, you can see Betty has a fire in her eyes; quiet frustration and inner rebelliousness bc she has been reminded yet again, that she has no freedom despite having a job in a 'great company' and having all the graduation merits and on top of that, now financially supporting her family. It's not enough. And might never be enough.

Despite this, Betty reigns her anger in and goes back to being the quintessential good daughter:

Don Hermes is not fully convinced but he appears to calm down after that.

A lighter altercation between them happens when he takes Betty home after a lanaziamento. He accuses her of taking too many liberties bc of the job that she has, criticizes her being out too much, criticizes her friends. His main worry is that she forgets her traditional values (Betty: Yo sigo siendo de las casa).

As we know, all Betty does is work and get caught in whatever mess el curatel gets her into. Regardless, Don Hermes doesn't like it. He doesn't like the women Betty surrounds herself with and he doesn't like her work or its events:

'The (fashion) world is too much, it's not for you'\'I know it's not my world, it's my job'.

I don't think Don Hermes is trying to be cruel when he says this, rather, I think he fears Betty will one day throw away the values and ethics he's taught her. (She kinda sorta does) Before she leaves for Cartagena, he insists she take a picture of him and Dona Julia, which gives weight to another inner fear of his; that Betty will forget her family and where she came from.

He stubbornly refuses to see (and accept) that Betty is an adult woman who wants to act like an adult woman. She does want to go out with her friends and dance and have the occasional drink. She does wants to date and meet someone, fall in love and in return show the love she's capable of giving.

She's desperate for the opportunity but believes it will never happen for her, so she decides to only dedicate herself to work and by doing so--and out of loneliness, she embraces her fantasies of (an) Armando that we know doesn't exist bc he's the only one that sees her value as a person and a professional. But when Mariana reads her the tarot cards---

Key word here: Change. Both of your lives are going to change.

Betty has been seeking a change in her life. This feeds into her illusions but she doesn't truly start to believe anything could happen until Armando begins to start acting differently around her.

We know it's the plan taking its course but for Betty this is a dream come true. But even in the beginning she's cautious, she doesn't know if the kiss they shared was a mistake and would rather not mention it to him in order to continue keeping the work relationship they already have (and she's happy to maintain if it means to being in his life).

But because Armando seeks her out, it's difficult for her to resist despite the type of relationship he's offering her. In a similar vein to Armando post letter, when he mentally refuses to put the clues together about why she's acting differently--Betty doesn't put together the recent embargo with his sudden interest in her. Where Armando chooses to be blind; Betty's inner frustrations and illusions of having something in her life that's not just work and an over controlled life, speak louder.

There is naiveté in play. It's true that she doesn't know a lot about the world but it's at the result of the overprotectiveness of Don Hermes that Betty doesn't read the signs as clearly until she reads the letter and is cruelly brought down back to earth.

Betty thought that Armando was the change she had been yearning for and her desperation for that change, for that dream to come true---is why she accepts the relationship he's offering her. He's trusted her implicitly until then, so why would she doubt him now?

The Letter happens and Betty's first instinct, the first action she wants to take is to run away. She doesn't want to go back to work, but Catalina reminds her of her responsibilities, that she can't just jump ship when people like Armando are depending on her. Betty especially can't leave as her parents are also depending on her and to quit suddenly with no warning would raise suspicions.

TW: for brief mentions of ED.

(I talk briefly about Betty skipping meals. I don't think the character has an eating disorder per say, but if you gotten this far and this makes the reader uncomfortable, count 5 paragraphs down to skip).

Betty enters the Gaslighting Arc depressed and dead inside. She's no longer a student, she can't afford to take days off to lay comatose in her bed. She also can't let her parents find out that something like Miguel (only worse) has happened to her again.

Post letter on, the series makes a habit of showing Betty either skipping breakfast or skipping dinner. Usually this is just done to show that a character is in a rush and usually bears no importance.

But this happens multiple times. At El Meson she orders vodka and they never get dinner. At Le Noir, despite Nicolas saying they make great eggs, she has him order wine. The night of Armando's last lanzamiento, Armando knows she hasn't eaten and offers to bring her dinner which she rejects. And lastly her diary entry\ voice over from the night she buys the mercedes\rejects Armando's call:

'Desvanezco' is to 'fade'\'vanish'. '...I am fading away before him while he only cares about his company' (rough translation).

Betty acknowledges here that she's not taking care of herself. In the first entry Post Letter she states that she doesn't have the strength to resuscitate herself again. She's metaphorically dead but the reality is that she's depressed and the only thing sustaining her during this period is her anger. (and alcohol). And once the Junta Directiva happens and everything is revealed, Betty in only left with the hurt.

(TW: End of ED mention)

Audience members get annoyed with Betty in the first half of the Cartagena Arc bc she continues to put herself down--Catalina is almost the audience insert with how put off she is with Betty's self deprecation.

It's not healthy or helpful for Betty to view herself this way and yes, it's a learned behavior that she needs to break desperately. But what the audience forgets is that Betty is tired. This is a woman that has tried to change things in her life and she always gets it wrong. Her first foray into love is a failure bc he used her, her attempts at dating are another failure, when she tries to change her look it's another failure; she put all her love and hope into Armando and then he betrays her.

She's been beaten down so much by those attempts, on top of society's view of her--that of course once in Cartagena she immediately feels out of place. Of course her first instinct, yet again, is to run back to the safe haven her dad has always provided for her.

'This isn't my world' which harkens back to Don Hermes telling her a similar thing, '...That's not for you'. It's not helpful and fuels Betty's fight or flight. And she's always picking flight.

This is Betty's first time away from home. This is the first time she has ever been away from her parents. That's why the airport scene with them is so dramatic. She's never slept a night away that's not in her house. A 'niña de la casa' no more. This is the opportunity that she's been waiting for but she doesn't see that yet amid the heartbreak.

Catalina has to guide her and essentially push her out of her comfort zone; and challenge her way of thinking and seeing the world and herself. Betty's always wanted changes in her life but she never knew that in order to embrace new things into your life, you have to be open about it mentally. You can't hide and internalize everything in your entire life. It's damaging to oneself.

In the middle of her trip she tells Nicolas, "No. I can't leave. I'm living something very important here. They (the board) can wait'. Betty is finally putting herself first and putting her foot down. Had they insisted on her presence at the beginning of her trip, she would have gone back.

Betty didn't just need to get away from Armando, she needed to get away from her family, specifically her dad. The internal and external changes that Betty goes through in Cartagena would not have been possible in Bogota. Not with Don Hermes breathing down her neck and Dona Julia flustered in the background. It wouldn't have happened as he wouldn't have allowed it.

Betty needed to leave the protective bubble of her family to learn that she can put herself together, that she can handle it and come back stronger.

Don Hermes' goodbye at the airport consists of giving Catalina instructions of things Betty isn't allowed to do (she doesn't drink, she doesn't party). He, again, refuses to see her as an adult woman. But he is forced to when she comes back from Cartagena:

He goes on to say, 'I feel like I'm lecturing another person, not my daughter'.

But that doesn't stop him as he lectures her into the night:

This is inadvertently what he's taught her to do tho--run away from a situation bc it became hard.

However Betty defends herself and says she came back to deal with issue at hand and take responsibility for her part in it. She's not proud of what she did.

'Don't think I did all of that and then went on vacation. I needed a change in my life'.

This is the change Betty truly needed, the one she's been waiting for and the one that sticks. She needed to learn to see the value in herself, realize that she's not the only one who has ever suffered and more importantly learning not to abandon herself as soon she gets hurt.

No one else was ever going to give her that. Not a relationship, not her family, not her friends. Those people (specifically her family) may love her but in certain instances their love and affection is a blind spot for them and can inadvertently hold her back bc of their insistence on protecting her from the world.

My personal feelings for Don Hermes aside, he loves his daughter and everything he does is well intentioned. He's not necessarily a bad person or bad father, but his over protection is suffocating and his refusal to see that his daughter is no longer a child plays a part in Betty's arc about wanting people to see her as she is--A person that is smart and capable and deserving of respect.

He plays a big part in why Betty does what she does, her inner rebelliousness, her frustrations come from the restrictions he imposes on her. He's not wrong about certain things but he's not 100% right about how he goes about them when it comes to Betty.

As a husband...well.

Anyway.

Betty becomes more independent Post Cartagena and her dad kind of slowly accepts it, especially when it's said in passing that she as a midnight curfew. He's still annoying, but that is simply his character trait.

If you made it this far, thank you. There is no prize except for the inner satisfaction of finishing this post.