#Genuine Leather Bags for Ladies

[hidelleindia]

Ladies' Stylish Bags: Elevate Your Fashion Game

For every woman, a stylish handbag isn't just an accessory—it's a statement piece. It complements your outfit while being practical. From adding a splash of color to a simple look to elevating a casual outfit, a well-chosen stylish bag can transform any ensemble. Stylish bags for women aren't just about carrying things anymore; they're about carrying yourself with poise and confidence.

The Classic Tote Bag

Among the many options for stylish handbags, the classic tote bag is a timeless essential. Its versatility, durability, and chic design make it a must-have in every woman's wardrobe.

Why It's a Must-Have

The classic tote bag is more than just a fashion statement; it's a practical companion for the modern woman. With its spacious interior, it offers plenty of room to carry essentials like a laptop, wallet, makeup, and even a change of clothes. This makes it perfect for work, travel, or running daily errands. Unlike smaller handbags, the tote's roomy design allows for easy organization, ensuring everything you need is accessible while on the go. Plus, tote bags are built to last, making them a worthwhile investment for years to come.

Different Styles and Materials

Tote bags come in various styles and materials to suit every taste and occasion. From sleek leather totes exuding sophistication to casual canvas totes, there's a style for every outfit and personality. Whether you prefer a structured look or a slouchy design, the options are endless. Embellishments like studs, tassels, and hardware add a personal touch, letting you express your unique sense of style.

How to Style It

Tote bags effortlessly elevate any ensemble. For a smart office look, pair a leather tote with sleek heels for a professional vibe. Alternatively, dress down your tote with jeans and sneakers for a relaxed weekend outfit, perfect for running errands or brunch with friends.

The Cross Body Bag

In today’s fast-paced world, having your hands free is a necessity. Whether you're navigating crowded streets or commuting to work, cross body bags allow you to move with ease while keeping your essentials close at hand. These bags have adjustable straps that can be worn across the body, distributing the weight evenly and leaving your hands free.

Versatile and Functional Design

The charm of a cross body bag lies in its versatile and functional design, perfectly matching the dynamic lifestyles of modern women. Its compact yet spacious interior fits all your must-haves. From running errands to exploring new places, cross body bags transition seamlessly with you, offering practicality without sacrificing style. The adjustable straps provide customizable comfort, while well-placed pockets ensure easy organization on the go.

Recommended Brands and Styles

Lavie is one of the best brands in India, known for quality craftsmanship and trendy designs. Lavie offers a wide collection of cross body bags, from stylish satchels to versatile bags that can be used for any occasion. Whether you're looking for a classic handbag for work or a statement piece for casual outings, Lavie has a design for every need.

The Statement Clutch

Statement clutches are made for special moments when you want to shine. They're not like big bags; instead, they are designed to look elegant, holding just what you need. With space for lipstick, a phone, cards, and a little cash, you can enjoy formal events with ease. Though small, statement clutches stand out with their unique colors, fancy designs, and eye-catching details.

Perfect for Special Occasions

When it's time to celebrate, a statement clutch is your go-to accessory. Whether it's a fancy dinner, wedding, date night, or glamorous party, this little clutch adds a touch of elegance and charm to your outfit. Its compact size makes it easy to carry around and doesn't weigh you down while you're dancing the night away. So, next time you have a special occasion, grab your statement clutch and get ready to shine!

Elevate your style with the perfect bag for every occasion. Whether you choose a classic tote, a versatile cross body, or a glamorous statement clutch, these bags will help you carry yourself with confidence and style.

Feel Free to Visit Our Office

Business Name - Hiddle Accessories PVT LTD

Address - F – 430, SECTOR – 63,NOIDA, UP – 201301, INDIA

Phone - 9999650078

[ifoonline]

If you are looking for quality leather handbags at the best prices then you have come to the right place. Our bags are manufactured in India from top quality leather that is sourced directly from the tanneries. Our high quality products will make you look good and will last for years.

[senhanleather]

🌟 [The Magic of Handbag Making! ✨] Hey dear fairies, today I want to introduce you to a super cool handbag factory! 👜💫 Are you guys ready? Come explore this amazing place with me! 💥✨

In this handbag factory, every handbag is created by our team of designers with their heart and soul, and every detail is carefully crafted to make your fashion quotient skyrocket instantly! 🔥💃

Our factory has advanced production equipment and high-tech craftsmanship to ensure that every handbag is the best of the best! Every thread, every buckle is strictly screened, just to bring you the most perfect experience of use! 💪💖

Not only that, our handbags are also made with eco-friendly materials, focusing on sustainable development, so that you can contribute to the earth while pursuing fashion! 🌍🌱

Whether you're attending a party or going shopping, our handbags have you covered! From fashionable styles to practical designs, we've created a diverse selection for you to be the center of attention! ✨👛

So, dear fairies, if you want to have a one-of-a-kind handbag, come and visit our factory! We promise to bring you an extraordinary shopping experience and absolute value for money! 🌟💯

[creativeartandcraft]

Crossbody Bag, Genuine Leather Crossbody Bag, Genuine Leather Handbag, Leather shoulder bag Woman

#CrossbodyBag #genuineleather #genuineleather #Leathershoulderbag #WomanHandmadeLeatherBag #LeatherBag #handbag #WomanLeatherBag #CrossbodybagwomenGift

[pelleluxur12]

Buy Leather Handbags For Women Online In India

At Pelle Luxur, you can Buy Handbags for ladies online choosing from an infinite array of brilliant Latest Handbags for women in many different styles and designs at low offer price discounts at COD.

[eupheme]

I am so so in love with your writing- I genuinely forgot how much I prefer tumblr drabbles to published books sometimes because beautiful prose and deep emotion is a hill I will die on and you do it so beautifully!!

Just wanted to ask on your opinion with Logan being a little gentleman somewhere deep down (I mean he was raised in the 1800s)

Like, he curses and drinks and smokes like a sailor - but he'd still open a door for a lady or defend her against assholes, even if he'd spend the rest of the night trying to scare her off and hide that little streak of good manners

It's always swirled in my head but I just wondered if I'm the only one or if at least it's folie a deux ♡♡

I have been grinning over this ask, thank you so much!! same - my physical tbr has been piling up because I’ve been reading so much fic, and it’s so amazing to read this in reference to something I wrote. Thank you so so much 🥺💖

and anon, your mind!!! I LOVE this idea, there are definitely such gentlemanly moments about him - and it being something that connects him to when he was born is so sweet. like yes he’s might be a little short/grumpy, but the second someone is rude to you he’s there with a glare and a growled out “watch it, bub.”

I wrote just a little something with your ideas, because you already nailed so many perfect examples - (like trying to scare her off after, that’s so perfect! I would love to hear any more thoughts you have about this!) (and I love you use of folie a deux for this 💕)

It takes you a little while to notice the small things.

How he keeps you close to the shops, when you walk together into town. Keeping himself between you and the busy streets. That second of hesitation when he beats you to the door, only to yank it open - step aside to let you pass through first.

It’s like fitting together pieces of a puzzle, without the reference of the final image. Little moments, clicking into place.

It happens again, when you get into it at one of the stores.

The shopkeeper thinking he can push you around - make an extra buck - not knowing you're just as up-to-date on the hardware as he is. It takes no more than the change in your voice for Logan to be there. A guard dog at your shoulder, daring the man to try to hustle you again.

It leaves you sweet. Sideways glances thrown his way, as you head back to the Mansion. Your paper bag tucked under his arm - the way his eyes are so quick to slide from yours when you tell him, "thank you", muscles tensing beneath the hand that brushes his shoulder.

It slips from him at your touch, rumbled out between the sharp set of his teeth and brow.

"It was nothing. Don't mention it, sweetheart.”

A shift - the collar of his leather jacket turning up against the wind - blocking the lower half of his face from view. Still keeping you tucked to the side, where it's safe.

And you think you soften, a little further.

I am going to be thinking about this all week! Thank you, again! 💖

[immergladsss]

Maria and The King of Thieves

For @incorrect-quotes-of-moonacre, thank you for all the work you put into the fandom and Moonacre Week every year ❤️

[Read on AO3]

Chapter 1:

Our story begins, as many typically do, with misfortune falling upon our protagonist and thrusting them into a new journey, irrespective of the protagonist’s feelings on the whole matter; for that is exactly how Maria Merryweather, just sixteen years of age and freshly debuted, found herself living neck deep in the countryside begging for work at the wash house. 

“I know your lot!” The head laundry maid, Mrs. Miller, said with a scowl. “You come around here looking for work, only to quit within the first day!” 

“Please I–”

“Just look at your hands! They’ve never seen a day of work. There’s no way you’re a commoner! Probably the bride of a failed elopement. I will not be having any trouble at my door.” 

“Please!” Maria all but fell on her knees as she implored. “Please just listen! Yes, I’ve been fortunate enough to not know work, but no! I'm not some runaway bride! I’m an orphan who was robbed before arriving with my family! Whatever fortune I once had has left me crawling for crumbs and I am paying for it threefold! I promise I will not cause trouble. I simply need work to afford the replacement of my stolen garments.” 

“Hmm…” The lady, Mrs. Miller, studied her. Maria was wearing a simple brown linen dress, faded with age. Her hair was hidden by a once-white bonnet, though a few light-red strands stuck out. Not many around here had red hair. There were a few families…one of which could get her into trouble, though the redheaded brother hadn't been seen in over two decades…  “What family are you from?”

“The Trotters.” 

Mrs. Miller looked over her shoulder and shouted at her workers. “Which of you is willing to teach her?”

Most of the girls looked away, finding they already had enough work to keep them busy, but one girl raised her hand. She was tall, with blonde hair slicked into a bun and bright blue eyes. “I can help her.” 

“Ah, Ms. Swann. Perfect. Come over here. This is Ms. Maria Trotter.” 

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Trotter. Please, call me Jane.” 

Maria’s journey began with the first of three misfortunes: her father’s unexpected passing after her debut into proper society. This unfortunate event only left her with her governess, and whatever belongings she could carry while everything else was repossessed to settle her father’s outstanding debt. A fact that brought her great shame. 

But like the highbred lady that she was, she took it with grace. She held her faith in her heart and her governess's hand for support, genuinely believing that matters would sort themselves out with time. After all, she believed herself fortunate to still have an estranged uncle generous enough to take them in. She believed their move to the countryside would simply afford them new opportunities. She believed gentlemen could be found everywhere, not just in the city, and that one day she’d find a proper suitor.  

Little did she know a second misfortune was about to befall her. Just before arriving at the gates of Moonacre Manor, they were accosted by four masked bandits, who in a matter of seconds, took all of their luggage except for the carpet bag she had carried with her inside. She wasn’t able to take a good look at them, only that they wore bowler hats, black leather garb, and darkened eyes. 

Though incredibly shaken, and feeling her resolve crack, she managed to restore her optimism at the thought that none of the bandits had managed to open their carriage. No doubt all due to her quick thinking and her handy needle that she used to slash the hand that came through her window. At least she and Ms. Heliotrope were safe and sound. 

But Maria’s silent prayers were to remain unanswered as a third misfortune came upon her. 

“I’m afraid you'll both have to find means of financing your purchases,” Her uncle, Sir Benjamin, told them during supper that night. “Unfortunately, our coffers have run dry trying to replace all that the De Noirs have stolen from us.” 

“The De Noirs?”

“Yes, I believe those were the very bandits that robbed you and your governess. Unfortunately, there is nothing to be done. Moonacre is too small and unimportant for London to care about. And Lord knows our own magistrate can barely keep order. All I can offer you is shelter and food.” 

“But I don't know how to work! I've never worked a day in my life, and I need clothes!” 

“The laundry is always in search of workers. I’m sure they’ll readily teach you, their ways. However, for your safety, you mustn’t tell anyone you're a Merryweather. With their propensity, the De Noirs are bound to kidnap you too. Present yourself as a Miller or Trotter. Those are fairly common around here.” 

And that is how she found herself the very next day, clutching a meager shilling between cracked and bleeding palms, sobbing with all her heart, outside the gates of Silverydew after her first day of work.  

Maria knew no one was meant to know her true identity. The laundry gossip informed her plenty of how dangerous the De Noirs could be, especially their leader whom they simply referred to as the king of thieves, but when Jane found her crying and handed her a freshly baked roll of bread and a small tin of salve for her hands, Maria couldn’t help herself. 

She had tried so hard to remain strong and keep up with the rest of the ladies, but it was impossible. She was weak and her entire body was in pain. She was exhausted. She was hungry. She had never felt as low as she did then. 

She tried, she really did try to maintain her resolve, but when Jane wrapped an arm around her shoulders, Maria broke and released all that she had bottled in her heart. She confessed what had transpired in her life to have driven her to such a wretched state. 

..oOo.. 

“How are you doing?” Jane asked as she came to join her at the wash bin. 

Maria was finishing her third day in the laundry house. She had learned much, but still struggled against the feelings of incompetence, the aches of her body, and her wounded pride. She sighed, “I believe I am managing. Though my arms are still threatening to desert me.” 

“It's all a con, don’t fall for it,” Jane giggled. “Do you think you could help me load this onto the carriage? The magistrate seems to be in a bit of a rush and the other girls are busy.”

“Yes, of course!” 

At the count of three, the two heaved the trunk of freshly laundered garments and carried it out into the gravel road where the carriage awaited. 

Maria glowered at the coachman who was fully aware of their efforts but refused to come down from his seat and help them. 

As they lifted the trunk to load it onto the carriage’s rack, Maria’s grip slipped, and a burr in the iron handle tore open a newly healed crack in her palm. She yelped as the trunk came crashing down. Fortunately, none of the contents spilled. 

“Careful there!” The coachman yelled, but he received no response aside from Jane’s furious glare that shut him right up.

“Goodness! Are you ok?” Jane asked, rushing to her side. 

“Yes,” Maria mumbled, wishing to hide from humiliation. She dropped her head as Jane proceeded to use her handkerchief as a wrap for her palm. “I'm so sorry. I’ll return this to you as soon as I can wash it.” 

“It happens to the best of us. Don't fret. Once, the garments I was carrying fell onto the floor and I had to wash them all over again!” 

Maria smiled sheepishly but her mind was distracted by a dash of white paint only visible on a small portion of the flat steel tyre on one of the carriage’s back wheels. “Why would someone paint their wheel?”

“What do you mean?” Jane asked, peering over Maria’s shoulder. “Strange. I don't think I’ve noticed that before. Who knows. Come now, let's get on with this.”

After that, Maria began to notice certain carriages had that same mark. She spotted it on the magistrate's carriages, on the constable’s, and on some of the farmers.

..oOo.. 

“Are you ready to leave?” Jane asked Maria, who was busy hanging someone’s night clothes to dry. They had grown quite close over the days. Jane was trustworthy, clever, and readily lent an ear without any judgment, unlike the rest of the laundry maids. The majority of them still believed her to be a runaway bride and kept a guarded distance. As though her very presence would tarnish their reputation. The only benefit to their company was the gossip. Oh, how they loved to gossip! That is how she came to learn her uncle was once engaged to a Lady Loveday De Noir. He hadn't known of her identity at the time of engagement, but he broke it off when discovered the truth, believing she was there to steal from him. 

“Don’t wait for me today,” Maria replied as she picked up another nightgown. “I need to stop by the apothecary. I've finished my salve.” 

“Alright then, I’ll see you tomorrow!” 

Maria wasn’t eager to return home. Though she had grown fond of Wrolf, Sir Benjamin’s giant Irish wolfhound, and her pony Periwinkle, an unexpected gift from her uncle, Sir Benjamin’s never ending dour mood was a constant reminder that things just weren't right. 

But she also didn't want to return too late. The few times that she had, she had arrived to the sound of melancholic piano music and her uncle’s sobs, no doubt over his failed engagement. She was fortunate her room in one of the manor’s towers was too far to hear her uncle’s cries, though she could not help but feel pity for Ms. Heliotrope whose room was on the first floor. 

At the end of her workday, she always faced the same predicament: either she returned early in the day to find him storming about the manor and cursing the De Noirs, or late in the evening to find him sobbing by the piano and wailing for Loveday. There was no neutral ground with that man, it's no wonder his engagement failed. 

As she walked to the apothecary, Maria took a moment to appreciate the town of Silverydew. It was a quaint little town, and despite their hardships and occasional dealings with theft, the people were hardy, kind, and hopeful. Children ran about the square playing games with hoops and sticks. Mothers formed groups and shared recipes or the latest news. Men huddled around the tavern, commenting on the weather and their crops or businesses. Young ladies walked around the square, arm-in-arm, giggling over the young men who watched from a distance. Yes, Silverydew was certainly a better ambiance than the desolate and rundown manor that barely stood on its foundations, especially now that the town was preparing for the Harvest Festival. 

Perhaps if her circumstances were different, she too would be as excited as the townspeople. She had an inkling her uncle would not even consider attending, much less allow her to attend unchaperoned. Though perhaps she could convince Ms. Heliotrope–that is if she wasn't too tired from tutoring the magistrate’s children or staying up late from her uncle’s incessant mourning over his life. 

Maria sighed wistfully, wishing she could do something to help her uncle and brighten his mood. She wished to restore herself and the manor to its rightful state. However, she had yet to learn what caused the great feud between the Merryweathers and the De Noirs. It seemed no one knew, or at least would not openly talk about it. 

“Oh!” Maria cried as her face came crashing against someone’s back. She was so lost in her thoughts she failed to notice the person in front of her. She would’ve fallen to the ground were it not for the strong arms of said person. “Oh, excuse me!” she yelped, disentangling herself from his arms. “I didn’t–”

Maria froze under his gaze. Dark eyes were alight with mischief as the ghost of a smile broke into a dashing grin.  “I-I’m sorry,” she finished with a bright blush as she straightened herself and took a step back.  

“I haven’t seen you around here before.” He adjusted his coat then stuffed his right hand into his pocket and with his left, awkwardly brushed his hair back. A fruitless effort as his curls bounced right back into place and casted a sultry shadow across his handsome face.

“Oh, I’ve only been here for a few weeks. I don’t make it a habit to stay out very long.” 

“Reckon you’re not missing much then. Silverydew isn't known for its nightlife,” he teased. “It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss…?”

“Trotter!” Maria chirped. “It's Maria Trotter. And your name?”

“Robin.” 

Maria didn’t miss the fact that he failed to offer her his hand which showed no sign of leaving his pocket, but she decided he had his reasons and she had more urgent matters to attend to. “It’s a pleasure to meet you as well. Now if you’ll excuse me, I'm on my way to the apothecary before it closes for the night.” 

“What a coincidence, I am too. Allow me to join you.” 

It was not a long walk, but it allowed Maria to ask her own set of questions, “I haven’t seen you around either. Do you live outside of Silverydew?”

“Yes, I live on the outskirts of the valley. I don't make it a habit of coming into town quite often.” 

“Why is that?” Maria asked. 

Robin held open the apothecary door and gestured for her to walk in first. Then he leaned over her shoulder and whispered. “As you may have learned, these townspeople busy themselves by sticking their noses in other people’s business.” 

“You must forgive them, for what else are they to do,” Maria stiffed her giggle but continued, “There’s only so much to say about the day-to-day life here.”

Robin grinned crookedly. “Reckon I can come up with a few ideas,” he said in such a way that sent her heart racing. 

“-How can I help you?” The pharmacist asked, stepping up to the counter and startling Maria, prompting her to take a step away from Robin. 

Maria cleared her throat and tried to steady her thoughts as she said. “I’m here to purchase some salve.”

“That’ll be five shillings.”

“But…last week it was three.”

“I’m sorry dear. As summer wanes, the herbs become rare, and the price goes up.” 

Maria’s heart sank and she solemnly reached for her purse, pulling out all that she had: three shillings. A wave of embarrassment washed over her. “I'll come back tomorrow then,” she muttered. 

“Now, hang on. Keep your shillings,” Robin said.  “Charge it to my account–”

“--I can’t possibly–”

“Ms. Trotter, it's fine. If it makes you feel any better, simply pay me back whenever you can.” Then turning to the shopkeeper he said, “I’ll also need three needles, a roll of surgical silk, gauze, and antiseptic.” 

It was then Maria noticed he had taken out his right hand from his pocket. It was bandaged and blood had seeped through the fabric. “Goodness, are you ok?”

“Yes,” Robin reassured. “It's a common occurrence in my line of work.” 

Maria was appalled. Granted she didn’t know much about jobs in general, but she wondered what type of work could lead to such nasty wounds. “Well then as gratitude, please allow me to stitch you up.” 

Robin did not protest when after their purchases, Maria took him by the arm, led him outside to the nearest bench, and then motioned for him to sit. He watched with rapt attention as she expertly unwrapped his hand and wiped it clean with her own handkerchief and the antiseptic. “Goodness! When did you get this? It looks feverish!” 

Robin scratched his head as he sheepishly laughed, “It was a few days ago. My mate tried to stitch me up, but clearly, he failed spectacularly. The stitches tore today on a new job.” 

Maria tutted with a shake of her head but made no further comment as she readied the suture. Unfortunately, the silk was unruly with her gloves, and she was forced to unsheathe her hands, praying he wouldn't notice their state. Then she quickly stitched the gash across the back of his hand. She was so dexterous he hardly felt the sting of pain he was normally accustomed to. 

“Incredible,” he murmured, admiring her handiwork. “That’s quite a talent you have there. I may be needing more of your services.” 

“I’ll give my regards to my governess. After all, she's the one who taught me French Needlepoint,” Maria teased. Then she hurriedly reached for her gloves but froze when his hand gently encased hers. Her breathing hitched when he raised the back of her hand to his lips, his eyes gazing into hers. Her heart skipped a beat when he placed a soft kiss upon her bare and scabbed knuckles. 

“Thank you,” he breathed into her skin before releasing her hold. 

“Y-you’re welcome,” Maria barely managed to say. She nervously slipped her gloves back on, gathered her belongings, and stood to leave. “Have a good day Mr. Robin. And thank you for the salve.” 

She hurried out of Silverydew with a fluttering heart, entirely unaware of how intensely he studied her retreat.

Maria’s mind was occupied with thoughts of Robin her entire way home. Even the melancholic piano music that could already be heard outside the manor gates could not dampen her mood, but she wasn’t quite ready to go inside just yet. Instead, she headed to the stable to brush Periwinkle. It had quickly become her favorite pastime when she needed a place to settle her mind or heart. 

She searched all over the stables looking for her brush, but it was missing. “Digweed!” She called out. “Where is Periwinkle’s brush?” 

“It’ll be in the carriage house, apologies miss!” Digweed shouted from the garden. 

“Ahh, there you are!” Maria spotted the brush on the floor near the carriage wheel. She bent over to pick it up, then her heart dropped, the wheel also had a white streak. This development was enough to wipe her mind clear of Robin and send her into a sleepless night. 

The very next day, Maria approached Jane and asked her. “Is there a pattern to the De Noir’s robberies?”

“I’m not sure honestly. At times it does seem certain people are robbed more often, but I’ve never looked into it.” 

“Has the magistrate been a victim?”

“Yes, unfortunately.” 

“What about the farmer Mr. Smith?” She listed another who had a white streak on their carriage wheel.

“Yes, all the time. The poor man has lost much on his harvests.” 

“And Mr. Johnson?” Their carriages hadn’t had the white streak. 

“Now that you mention it, no. He’s one of the fortunate few who hasn't been robbed.” 

The next two days, Maria took her journal to work, and in her free time, cataloged all the carriages with the white streak. She concluded those that were painted, were the targets for robberies. 

This perplexed Maria. If her observations were correct, the De Noirs were purposefully targeting certain people. It was not random at all. This caused Maria to feel a wave of indignation. This would mean their robberies were no longer an act of survival, but of intentional harm. How dare they! 

She just knew she had to put a stop to this. That same evening, she went to the hardware shop and bought a pint of white paint and a paintbrush with all of her earnings. Then she waited. 

She waited at the outskirts of the woods until the sun had set and a crescent moon was high in the sky, and then she got to work. She went around every carriage and cart she could access and discretely marked a back wheel with the paint. 

She finished late into the night, exhausted, but proud of herself. She happily walked home and hid her paint in Periwinkle’s stall, before heading off to bed. 

It was a few days later that she was rewarded with the fruits of her labor. Rumors were circulating about, wondering if the De Noirs were beginning to soften their ways. A few times, carriages that had been stopped were released without a single item taken. That was all the confirmation Maria needed to know that the De Noirs were not acting randomly. There was a method behind their madness. They were targeting specific people, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

“You’re in a bright mood today,” Jane remarked. 

“Yes,” Maria said, scrubbing a stubborn stain on a coachman’s coat. “Yes, I believe I finally know what I am meant to do.” 

“Is that so?”

“Yes, but I can’t tell you just yet.”

…oOo… 

Robin wasn't one to visit Silveryday without reason. Due to its close association with the Merrwweathers, he could only ever go under disguise, and it was a massive inconvenience. 

But someone was thwarting his revenge. Which left him no choice. So, for the second time that week, he headed to Silverydew and straight to the hardware shop.

“Hello!” Robin called towards the back room. He didn't have to wait too long before a large burly and bearded man came out. 

“Yes, what can I do for you?”

“I need to know who’s purchased white paint in the last week or so.”

The shopkeeper was confused but told Robin all that he knew. Which unfortunately for him, wasn’t much. A customer's name wasn’t recorded unless the item was paid for in the form of credit. As a result, all he learned was that the shop had sold 10 cans of white paint, only three of which could be identifiable. 

“Thank you for your time,” Robin tossed him a coin. “I have a request though, keep note of who buys red paint.”

The only merit to visiting Silverydew was the possibility of running into the new laundry maid in town, and as luck would have it, he spotted her leaving the wash house with another maid. He frowned when he noticed that once again, she was wearing a very old dress. At one point it must have been a dark blue color, but it was now washed out to a greyish color. 

The long day had loosened her bun, and from beneath her old bonnet, curls bounced freely behind her. He watched her dry her hands on her apron, then slip on some silk gloves. 

Though she quickly learned the names of the townspeople, readily greeted them with a kind smile, and adapted to their customs, it was clear to anyone with a working brain that she was not a commoner. 

She held herself too proudly, behaved with a gracefulness that could only be taught, and spoke with words only seen in books or in sprawling cities like London. 

Even without those observations, she had admitted to having a governess and knowing French needlepoint. 

Robin followed from a distance, wondering who was to blame for the misfortune that forced her to break the softness of her hands with water and lye every day. 

When she finally parted from her friend, he snuck up to walk beside her and said, “Fancy seeing you here. It must be fate.” 

Maria nearly jumped out of her skin, then rolled her eyes in false annoyance. “Or perhaps simply the result of living in a small village.” 

“I take it you’ve lived in bigger, more crowded places?” he asked, adjusting his steps to match her pace.

 “Not a large city, but yes... Bigger than Silverydew,” she said, picking her words carefully. “How is your hand?”

“It's mended quite nicely.”

“Are you here for more sutures,” Maria said as she appraised his body, bringing about a sense of shyness he wasn't accustomed to. 

“Er- n-no,” he managed with an awkward cough. “Fortunately, no injuries today. My work has been slow recently.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Maria frowned, “So if it's not an injury, what brings you here?”

Robin smiled crookedly, “Business. Though, now that I have you here, there is something I’d like to ask. There are some interesting rumors floating about you...”

“Really?” Maria asked with amusement. “Pray tell, what is this information you've gathered.” 

“They say you’re a runaway bride. Some say you’re a witch. Others say you’re a noble who has eloped with a lowly hunter and is living in the forest. Hiding from your royal family with your husband.” 

Maria could not hold her laughter. She laughed like this was the funniest thing she’d heard since arriving at Moonacre. 

“Oh dear,” she managed in between breaths. “Please tell me where my rich family is so I can beg them to take me back! I’m weary of masquerading as a commoner!” 

“So, it’s not true then?” Robin asked. They had long exited Silverydew and were now walking down the gravel road towards the outskirts of the valley. 

“No,” Maria wheezed. “Unfortunately for me, none of that is true.” 

“And the bit about the husband–”

“--Especially the bit about the husband!” Maria cackled. “Oh, do forgive me for my uncouth behavior. I-I just can't help it. Out of all the lies!”

Robin had stopped and watched her with appreciation. “I’m relieved to hear that bit is also untrue.” 

His words sent a jolt through Maria’s body, immediately ending her fit of laughter. “A-And why would that be?”

“Well, as you know. The harvest festival is in a couple of weeks. If you’re unaccounted for, I’d love to be your escort. I heard there’s a circus coming this year. What do you say?”

“A circus! Oh, I’d love to go! But I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for you just yet. You see… My guardians are incredibly overbearing, so I doubt they’ll let me go. Can I let you know next time I see you?”

“I’ll keep you to your word,” he said. Then he leaned down near her shoulder and whispered, “And if they say no, I am talented in the art of sneaking about.”

Continue Reading on AO3

@theargopriestess, @maybeamagpie, @hotpotatoburn, @stabat-mater, @bedofthistles

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Wildflower

Previous chapter / Next chapter

a/n Tumblr keeps deleting paragraphs so I hope this is finally good. Thank you for the love!!! 🧡✨

Azriel x reader

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

"Here you are, little star." Lifting your head from a pile of papers, you were met with a charming smile on Azriel's face. Handsome. You always found him unbelievably handsome. With the Illyrian leathers and his slightly messy hair, he always looked way too tempting, and you were guilty of giving into your sultry temptation once in a while. 

Your recovery was awfully slow. Madja had you on bed rest for weeks. Not letting you lift a finger and leaving your bed wasn't an option. Azriel was by your side almost the whole time, neglecting most of the orders that Rhysand would give him, purely out of fear of losing you once again.

He would sit by your bed, reading your books or humming some unknown melody. Crouching down to kiss your cheek or forehead, massaging your tender hands and legs that are getting sore from not moving. Attentive. Yet he did not even once mention your last words that were said to him before you passed out. It weighed on his shoulders for days while you were unconscious. Shattering him to pieces that he did, indeed, leave you without even second guessing it.

Practically as soon as you recovered, Rhys got taken under the mountain and you were dropped to suddenly run the whole court. Something that you never wanted to do and hoped that you would never need to. You know that without the rest of the inner circle that Rhys also formed years before everything went south, you would have been screwed. With your mind clouded with so many thoughts, rational thinking wasn't your strongest point.

Azriel was your biggest rock during those years. Holding you close through restless nights, rubbing your shoulders as you sat in the chair answering letters all day long. He kept you alive. Kept you moving. Not letting you crumble, even if you turned into a shell the moment you realized how much danger Rhys was in. letting you hit his chest every time you broke down bagging, just to let you go under the mountain, to let you switch places with Rhys.

The cracks in your relationship remained, but you two turned a blind eye to them. Both needed someone to come home to late at night. Someone who was there to pick you up. You had been together for so long at that point that it genuinely felt stupid to just drop it all away. There was love there. At least from your side, even if you had become much colder and spikier. At times, you forget who you were. But Azriel was still the same shy yet cocky boy you had fallen for. "I'm here to claim my lady." Tugging at your hand, Azriel tackled you to the ground as you too couldn't help but laugh at how silly he could get at times. Resiling him on the fluffy carpet in one of the private rooms, you squealed as he pushed you down onto the ground before flopping right onto you. "How was the meeting with Helion?", his face was practically buried in between your breast. Clingy Illyrian baby, you thought to yourself, or maybe a horny one. Either way, a baby.

"Nothing new. He lifted some of the magic but he doesn't know how to get them off", you knew that getting upset over this was silly. But you couldn't help but feel like there was something more, just no one was truly trying. You left out the details of the little snarl you had with the high lord of the day court. You did not want to cause any unnecessary drama and make Azriel worried. Even though you were sure that, by now, Helion had probably moaned about it to Rhys at least twice.

Sensing your sour mood, Azriel leaned in to kiss your lips before biting the top of your breast, making you let out a yelp. "Do I need to chase your thoughts away?"," "What are you suggesting?", running your fingers through his slightly damp hair, you let yourself get lost in his eyes. Feeling some of his shadows make their way down your dress, nipping at your exposed skin.

"Do you have time? My list is pretty long", your chuckle was soon replaced by a moan when you felt him sliding his fingers closer and closer to where you wanted him most. "We can't", your fingers wrapped themselves around his wrist, "We have dinner with that poor creature Rhys stole from Tamlin", "Her name is Feyre", rolling your eyes you stood, smoothing out your dress. "You're good at remembering females' names all of a sudden." Azriel gave you an annoyed before following you out of the library. He knew a fight when the topic turned to other females was bound to get out of hands. Not that you were the jealous type. Well, maybe a little. But your insecurities come from a very rational fear. You two weren't mates. At least the bond hadn't snapped for either of you yet. Azriel had mentioned a pull that he felt towards you ever since you two met, but he never referred to it as a mating bond. So when Helion told you that the wires on your hands might have caused extra shields to surround you, meaning that such emotions were out of reach for you until they were off your body. Since then, this has been a sore subject.

You walked down the stairs like you owned this place. Eyeing Feyre up like she was a prey who was going to get eaten no matter what move she chose. Azriel pulled the chair out for you, and you gave him a smile as a silent thank you. "See, imagine me walking to her right. We seriously looked badass when we stormed to meetings like that ", Cassian was the one to break the silence. Piece of ham hanging from his fork as he continued to ramble, "I think we'll look less sexy with Rhys in the middle, though", Mor snorted, causing you to smirk yourself, even the side of Azriel's lips curled up.

However, the tension filled the room fairly quickly, and Azriel moved his hand to rest over your thigh, squeezing it gently as a plea to not start unnecessary fights. The gesture was sweet, you placed your hand on top of his, but it also annoyed you because you knew that he was doing it more for Rhys than you. High Lord's sister or not you didn't stand a chance against the high Lord himself. You would have stayed silent as the conversation around the table was the usual nonsense of family talk, but it's the lingering looks towards your hands that made you grip your cutlery tighter and tighter. You've stopped wearing long sleeves ever since your parents died. You wanted to see what stopped you from saving them. So you could be constantly reminded that you were weak and will continue to be weak until these things were removed.

Cassian was on his fifth joke of the night when you threw your cutlery on the plate, "You know it's not very nice to stare", you snarled through gritted teeth, "I just...", you sure had caught her rad-handed as Feyre dropped her gaze quickly. "No, take a good look at it", "Y/N...", Rhys's warning tone did nothing as you shoved your hands right in front of Feyre. "This is what happens to naive little girls who think that they can concur the world," "I concurred the world. I freed you from Amerantha ", and you knew that she did. That was all Rhys talked about ever since he returned. That, and that she was his mate. A tough girl, you thought to yourself, but then again, she probably didn't even know that you were Rhys's sister. "Remind me to bow when you become the high lady." With that, you turned around, storming out of the dining room. You heard Rhys apologizing. You heard chairs creaking against the floor. But you just couldn't. Couldn't swap everything under the rug and sit there like not long ago, you were all falling apart.

You were looking out of the window when you heard the doors of your room crack open. "If you're here to give me a lecture, you can rightfully fuck off." Azriel let out a sigh, his hands coming to rest on your shoulders. "You're rebelling against him for no reason", "I'm not rebelling", you argued, not feeling like by any chance you were to blame here. "I know you, sweetheart." The tone of his voice did wonders for soothing your frustration and you let your shoulders slump.

"Why does he purposely choose to ignore me?", "He sees you," and you wanted to agree with that, but it was a lie. When he came back, Rhys had called a meeting. A meeting that involved everyone but you. A meeting no one told you about until it was over. He didn't say that you did a good job running this place while he was gone.

"Does he? And what does he see? A burden? ", you moved out of Azriel's embrace, crossing your hands over your chest. "Y/n he found his mate. He's figuring it out." This, however, rubbed you the wrong way. 

"Why am I always the one who gets replaced? First by your two, now by her ", Azriel clenched his jaw tightly, not wanting to further upset you but trying to change your mind. "Okay, I'm going to leave you to brood." You let out a bitter laugh, causing him to stop in his tracks, "Yeah, do what you do the best run". Azriel growled. His hand instantly curled around your neck, dragging you across the room toward the nearest wall. You had wrapped both of your hands around his arm so that he wouldn't dislocate your head while carrying you like a rag-doll. "Why are you being so complicated", "I'm being an angel if you haven't noticed", your feet dangled in the air as Azriel breathed you in, "You and I have a very different understanding of angels, sweet", "Makes sense why our communication is so ragged", with that you were frown onto the bed. The sound of clothes being ripped filled the room. Panting, heavy breathing, skin against skin, and that delicious sound of sheared wetness. You clawed at Azriel's back as if it was your salvation. Trying to pull him as close to you as you could. You rock. He was here. Even if no one understood you, he always did. 

The next day, you two didn't leave your shared bedroom. Your body hurt, but you needed to be fucked to the oblivious until you couldn't think of anything else. Until nothing mattered. Until all, you could remember was Azriel's name. You woke up in the early afternoon. Limbs tangled together with your lover, who was peacefully sleeping by your side. Running your fingers down his cheek, you leaned in to kiss him, careful to not wake him up and slipped out of bed. You made your way towards the kitchen, fixing yourself a tiny plate of food before moving to do the same for Azriel, just granting him much more generous portions. You were about to grab a tray from the upper shelf and leave when Fayre walked in. Her eyes instantly went wide as she turned to flee. "I'm sorry about the dinner." Your words made her stop in her tracks as she turned back to you, still not daring to look you straight in the eyes. "Don't be", she muttered, "I'm just protective of him. Rhys sacrificed so much. I want him to be happy and safe. I had no intention of hurting you. Shameful for me to take my bad mood on our guest".

At your words, she had smiled, and in her eyes, you saw a genuine glimpse of understanding, "I know how you feel. I'm the same when it comes to my sister". You two stood there in an awkward silence before you offered her the food that you had spread out. A chance to start over, you told her. After all, if she was Rhys's mate, you had to start getting along. Because there was no way that you would stand between them. You two have been talking for hours. She had told you stories from her past, told you everything about her sisters. How you and Amren would make good friends with Nesta. "Are you like Azriel?", Feyra had asked you, "You mean a shadow singer? She nodded her head before taking another bite of the cake you two were sharing. "No, and if I'm being perfectly honest, I don't even know what I'm capable of," and you knew that she also could relate to that. Her knowledge of the powers that she had gained from all the High Lords was very little. Surely, that made her feel just as small and confused.

"I would assume you and Azriel are mates then", "Lovers, not mates", if you were being honest this was the last conversation you wanted to have with her, but you assumed that the concept of mate was also new to her so blaming her for being curious would have been foolish. "We've been together for some time... but... Az wanted us to have a mating ceremony even if the bond hadn't snapped. He firmly believes that once I get these handcuffs off that I would feel it too, but...", your mind drifted to all the endless conversations you two had had about this and how your heart would shatter every time you would look into his hopeful eyes. 

"But you didn't?", you shook your head, "Rhys got taken and I didn't want to do it without him. Plus, finding a mate is really important for Az and I just fear that if we're not... ", you trailed off, feeling a lump already forming in the back of your throat," that it would break him and if we have the ceremony, he wouldn't leave me out of the sheer respect he has for me." Fayre placed her hand on top of yours, giving you a reassuring smile, "Maybe if I figure out how to use my powers, I'll be able to help you out." You returned her smile. Deep down, you wanted to tell her that firstly, Rhys would never allow that because it would put her in danger, and secondly, that you were lost and had no clue yourself on how to fix this.

You made your way through the house towards the room that Rhys usually preferred to work in, a pile of op papers pressed to your side. After a conversation with Fayre, you opted to do some work inside of jumping your lover's bones one more time. You needed a reason to see Rhys. You walked in without knocking, and Rhys didn't even lift his head as you walked in. "Do you have a moment?", you asked, placing the documents on the side of his table. He only gestured to the book he was reading, mumbling, "Busy." "Rhys, I'm being serious," but he said nothing, and something inside you snapped. "You send me, Mor, Cassian, and Az to do shit for you constantly, and you can't spear two minutes for me?", harshly slamming the book closed, he looked up at you. 

"I haven't been here in over fifty years, so there's a lot to fix," "Fix? Are you being serious?", yet you shook your head, not wanting this to be the thing you two fought over today. If you were to get any help from your brother, he had to be in at least a decent mood, because once the water got rowdy, it's like all hell broke loose. "I want you to talk to someone other than Helion so I can get these things off me quicker." Your tone was much calmer now. You knew he understood. You hoped he did. He'd promised you he'd do everything to help. "Your hands can wait." Rhys's words made you feel like all of a sudden there was no oxygen in the room, "Sorry, what?" you mumbled. "I said. They. Can. Wait. There are more important things to do now," Rhys roared right at your face. You stepped back slightly, shaking your head in disbelief, "Like what, dear brother? Shoving your cock up Feyre?", Rhysand slapped his fist against the desk harshly before turning to point his finger at you, but before he could say anything, you winnowed. Winnowed without thinking. Just the need to get out lingered all over you. Somewhere where no one will find you, you told yourself. 

Not being used to the sensation of winnowing, you felt your body give in as you slumped in the dirt. Hands and knees deep in the wet and cold substance. You tried to look around, but the darkness seemed so thick that you swore you could probably cut it up with a knife. "How the hell did you get here?", you instantly turned to the side the mysterious voice was coming from, "Shit...", you muttered under your breath, realizing just where you took yourself by accident.

[lilliths-httyd-blog]

i went out dressed in a white shirt, a black skeleton-themed hawaiian shirt, black and white houndstooth-print leggings, wartortle socks, black faux leather ankle boots, a moon-shaped necklace and a black witch hat with a spiderweb-print veil today.

so basically i went to a hardware store dressed as a gay witch.

some old woman dressed in church clothes just about died when she saw me and my mum just about passed out from laughter when she saw the lady's expression. this woman genuinely looked like she'd just seen satan and was mentally preparing herself for the rapture.

then i saw some young kids and they were fucking terrified of me (good - i'll live rent free in their minds forever) and some middle aged women complimented my hat so that was nice. unfortunately we could not find the potato bags we were looking for so we have to hold off on growing those potatoes that sprouted in the depths of the kitchen drawer.

[charminggirl512]

complicated // jax teller x oc

Jax Teller x F!OC (Dolly Dawson)

Warnings: language, mentions of sex

Word Count: 2,071

A/N: My first Jax fic!!! I'm excited to see what y'all think of Dolly and can't wait to see where their story goes.

"Should've brought my own fucking grits," I say between my teeth as I stand on my tiptoes, just trying to reach the store-brand bag of grits that some asshole decided to put on the top shelf. 

"You need some help with that, darling?" The pet name pisses me off and I whip around to correct him until I see his face. He is easily the most attractive man that I have ever seen. 

"That would be great," I reply with a smile. He easily grabs them off the top shelf and hands them to me with a smirk playing on his lips.

"What's your name, darling? I've never seen you before, so you must be new to town," He asks and steps back which allows me to take in his leather vest with a multitude of patches.

"I'm Dolly Dawson. I just moved here from Georgia. Yours?"

"Jax Teller. I could tell you were from the South but I couldn't quite figure out the accent." 

"Well, thank you, Mr. Teller, for helping me." His smirk grows when I call him Mr. Teller and I wince at the over-the-top southern manners that have been ingrained in me since birth. Since moving to California, I've gotten quite a few stares for saying ma'am and sir and one lady seemed genuinely offended when I thanked her for holding the door open for me. "Sorry, force of habit. Still getting used to the California way of talkin'."

"Oh, I'm used to people calling me Mr. Teller, but it's usually in a more private setting." My jaw drops at his words which makes him laugh. "I'm just messing with you, darlin'. I usually prefer sir or daddy." 

  With that, I turn around and walk away from him. He calls after me but I pretend I don't hear him while I begin my search for the ingredients to make my mama's biscuits. I've been feeling homesick, so I'm making all the food my mama would make if I were home. She made me a cookbook with all of her recipes and gave it to me when I graduated high school and I'm finally getting the chance to use it. Jax steps behind me in the check-out line with a pack of cigarettes, a box of condoms, and a six-pack of beer. 

"Come on, now, Dolly. I was just messing with you." 

"I know you probably think that I'm stuck up higher than a light pole, but people don't speak like that where I come from, Jax Teller. That kinda talk is reserved for the bedroom and unless you live in this nice little grocery store, it was inappropriate." 

"Anyone ever told you that you speak like a politician," He jokes, and boy does he hit the nail on the head.

"That tends to happen when your daddy is one," I reply before turning around to make small talk with the cashier as she rings up my groceries. I finally make it outside and start loading my groceries in the trunk of my car. Jax comes out a second later and sits on his motorcycle, setting a cigarette between his lips before lighting it and putting his helmet on. 

    I climb in and attempt to crank the ignition, but it just sputters. I try again and again, yet it just makes a loud noise before going silent again. I slam my hands on the wheel and try to hold in a scream. I climb back out and open the hood, trying to inspect an engine that I know nothing about. 

"You need some help?" 

"Nope, I can handle it perfectly fine myself, thank you very much." 

"Well, Miss Dolly, I don't think that you'll be able to figure it out since it seems someone has stolen your catalytic converter." 

   With his words, I promptly burst into tears. I don't usually cry at the drop of a hat, but I've had a very rough past couple of weeks with no one to share the burden with. Jax seems to panic for a second before pulling me into his arms, running his hand over my hair, and comforting me. 

"We can fix this, sweetheart. I'll get a tow truck out here and then we'll take it to the garage my family owns. We'll get it all fixed up," He assures me. I nod into his chest and he reaches into his pocket to make that phone call. We stand there with me still wrapped in his arms until the tow truck comes. A man with curly brown hair climbs out of the driver's seat and a man with scars on his cheeks opens the passenger door. 

"Now, what are you doing making pretty girls cry, Jax? Usually, you wait a little longer to break their hearts," The curly-headed one says with a grin.

"Guess my flirting skills have gotten worse, Tiggy," He replies, and I can instantly tell that there's a lot of history between the two. "This is Miss Dolly Dawson from Georgia."

"Nice to meet you, Dolly. I'm Tig and this is Chibs. Let's get your car loaded up and taken care of so you can escape Jax like I'm sure you intended to." This makes me smile and he returns it before starting the process of loading my car onto the back of the truck. 

   As they're loading it up, Jax takes me over to his bike and pulls an extra helmet out of the saddle bag on the side. He clips into my head, fixing my blonde hair once it's on properly. He climbs on the bike first and I hesitantly get behind him. 

"You ever been on a bike before?"

"No. My daddy would kill me if he saw me right now. He calls motorcycles a coffin on wheels," I answer then blush at my possibly impolite words. He seems to find it funny, though, so I let it go before I get too worked up over it. 

"Well, I promise you'll arrive in one piece, darlin'. Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight. When I lean, lean with me. Don't freak out or you'll mess with our balance, but your job is pretty easy." 

   With that, we're flying out of the parking lot and onto the main road. The wind blows my hair back and I panic about what my hair will look like until I realize that I don't need to care about that. I just need to relax and enjoy this moment of doing something I haven't done before. I no longer needed to be worried about my every minute action. I could begin to enjoy my independence. 

   We pull into a parking lot that's surrounded by a large chain-link fence. As we park, a building sits in front of us and to the side of us. There seem to be a dozen men milling around the lot, some in mechanic suits, others in leather vests like Jax's. I'm beginning to think this experience is about to be a total sausage fest when a tall woman in heels comes walking out of the garage. She comes straight towards Jax and starts looking me up and down, appraising me like I'm a horse she's about to buy.

"Hi, sweetheart," She says before kissing him on the cheek, still staring at me. "Who's this?" 

"Mom, this is Dolly. She just moved to Charming and needed a little help with her car. Dolly, this is my mom, Gemma." I stick my hand out and she stares at it before shaking.

"Nice to meet you, ma'am." 

"You too, sweetheart. Let's get your car into the garage and then we can talk costs." 

   The two of us spend the next hour talking about how much this is all going to cost and how long it'll take to get the parts in. The office we sit in is small and crowded with papers, but there's something comforting in the sounds of people working and laughing outside the door. Once we've figured everything out, Gemma sits back in her chair and stares at me. 

"You know, you're just my son's type." I stare at her for a second before responding.

"Excuse me?"

"He likes that whole innocent little Barbie thing that usually ends up with his heart broken. You're not gonna do that, are you," She asks, obviously not looking for an answer. 

"I just met Jax today. I've spent more time talking to you than I have him." I've never seen anyone speak so bluntly and it was truly shocking. In the South, we're polite to everyone's face, and then we talk shit behind each others' backs. That did not seem to be the California way.

"I saw how you were looking at him, like he was your knight in shining armor. My son is a lot of good things, but a knight he is not. Don't go into this with expectations of changing him into some sort of Southern gentleman who goes to church every Sunday and is a perfect saint. That boy is a born and bred biker and I'm not gonna let him change for some pussy." 

"Thank you for helping me with my car. I'll be back in a couple of days to pick it up and pay. Have a good day, Mrs. Teller." With that, I stand up and walk out, slamming the door behind me. I start looking for my car before realizing that I have no way home. Right as I'm about to pull out my phone to call a cab, Jax walks out of the building next to the garage.

"Hey, darlin', you get everything figured out?" I continue to grab my phone.

"Yes, thank you for your help. I'm just calling a cab and I'll be out of your hair." My tone must be pissed off because he moves to stand in front of me and when I don't look at him, he pushes my chin up so that I can't avoid eye contact.

"What's wrong? What happened to piss you off?"

"It's nothing. I don't want to be in the way, Jax."

"You're not," He says gently, his thumb and pointer finger still holding my chin. "Did Gemma say something?" 

   My lack of response is an answer enough for him. He scoffs, shaking his head before trying to march over to the office. I grab his arm and he spins back around to look at me.

"Don't start something, Jax. It's fine. She just said that I'm your type and that I shouldn't try to change you. There's obviously something deeper there, so I'll just go home, pick up my car in a couple of days, and then stay away. I don't want to create drama for you." 

"She crossed a line, Dolly. She doesn't know you. She doesn't get to speak to you like that. I know that she was probably much harsher than you let on." I go to interrupt him and he holds up a finger. "She is right, you are my type, which is exactly why I was planning on asking you out."

"I don't want to-"

"I'm taking you out. I'll pick you up tomorrow at seven and we'll go to dinner." His authoritative tone is definitely attractive, but I've been bossed around all my life. I'm not gonna let some man I just met do it too.

"I don't get a say in that?" He's about to answer and I cut him off. "Things are... complicated right now, Jax. I don't need to be going out with men I just met." 

"I can assure you, darlin', things are much more complicated on my end. I've got an ex-wife who's three months pregnant with my baby and a best friend who's about to get out of jail. But complicated isn't gonna stop me from taking you out."

   While he's able to easily share the drama in his life, I'm not able to do the same so easily, not without putting him in harm's way. Especially knowing that there's a baby involved. At the same time, he seems to be the kind of guy to not take no as an answer when it comes to this, and I truly don't want to tell him no. 

"Fine." He seems pleased by this answer and gives me a show-stopping grin to show it. 

"Good. Now, let's get the groceries out of your trunk and I'll take you home." I nod and accept that this is probably going to be the beginning of a very long ride.

[writingsofwesteros]

https://www.tumblr.com/writingsofwesteros/716022354712690688/aegon-being-obsessed-with-a-bigger-woman-shes

When it’s time to greet everyone, he has the largest smile on his face thinking the lord is about to introduce his two daughters to him, one who he’s no idea the name of and his pretty angel with the most perfect squishy thighs, Alicent wanted him to find a woman to court as he’s passed the age of when he should’ve married and refused to marry Helaena, so he now has to find his own wife and he has to do it today. She thought he’d never and if he did it wouldn’t be for a good alliance it would be with the woman who has the longest legs or the first to offer to bed him, she thought she’d have to make an arrangement for him.

That is until it comes to greeting everyone and he has the widest smile on his face, cheeks red at the thought of meeting her instead of looking at her with longing in his eyes and when he saw one of the Lords make his way over but with only one of his daughters instead of two, only one girl instead of the two he should be meeting, instead of his sweet lady with the beautiful face and most ethereal womanly figure he’s ever seen. No instead it’s just her father and his snobby firstborn, so when he can’t see the second daughter coming towards him his face just falls.

All smiles and niceness vanished within milliseconds. He already chose his wife and she’s not here? You know he’d question where his second daughter is but the Lord didn’t want to introduce her as she isn’t what most men want she’s not the most attractive to men. He says so with a grimace probably insulting her but trying to hide it in his words, “Probably with the food my prince. She never strays too far from cakes I think you’d prefer her to stay there. My prince, my queen, this is my firstborn daughter..” his firstborn daughter laughing at his words while curtsying, but Aegon could not care less he’s just stone faced staring at them so she elaborates trying to explain more “My prince, my sister would prefer the food to the people, I assure you. She’s happy over there. Trust me her stomach shows for it.”

Aegon finds none of this funny. How’s it funny, he’s confused. She likes cake? So does he, he’s genuinely not understanding the humour right now, how’s it funny that she prefers food to people? He prefers food to people and he’d prefer if his second daughter was brought over so he could enjoy that food with her while she’s feeding it to him from her chest or he could just eat from her fingers sucking the cream and crumbs off, he isn’t fussy.

Well now he’s mad, he just has a dead eye look staring at them and it’s beginning to make them uncomfortable. Probably how his daughter would feel finding out she’s being mocked behind her back. He’s throwing a comment at them and leaving, “I once saw a whore like you in the brothels, no one wanted her, they said she was like a dry leather bag. Good day.” and he’s off.

!!!!!!!

I LOVE HIM!! I prefer food over people as well thank you very much hehe ;)

Alicent is apologising before gracefully running after Aegon whose on the search

[vs-redemption]

Congratulations on 3 years! Can I request leather bag forBakugo? Thank you so much!

I took 4 million years to answer this. I apologize. My new teaching job has literally sucked every ounce of energy I have. I'm starting to get into the routine now though which gives me time to write again :)

Tanbo Art (Katsuki Bakugo x GN!Reader)

Wordcount: 700 Warnings: none Picture credit goes to ME! I took it when I went to Inakadate villiage in Aomori, Japan.

“This is us!” You look over to your boyfriend excitedly as the train beings to slow down for the next stop. You hop up from your seat and reach for your bag resting on the overhead rack. You had changed trains twice already, but the fatigue of traveling was outweighed by your eagerness.

“I’ve got it,” Bakugo sighs while gently nudging you forward up the aisle so that he can grab your stuff for you. There’s an uncertain scowl on his face as looks out the window. “Are you sure this is right?” From what he could tell, you both were in the smack-dab middle of nowhere. There wasn’t even anyone else on the train, which made him wonder if there was really anything out here worthy of seeing.

“Uh, I think so?” You shrug sheepishly as you exit the train. There wasn’t even a train station where you were, just a concrete platform in the middle of endless rice patties with the silhouette of Mount Iwaki in the distance.

“You think so?” Bakugo repeats, fighting the urge to push you back onto the train before it could leave both of you stranded.

“It’s fine,” You slip your hand into his as the train pulls away and the complete stillness of being alone sets in. “Look, we’ll just follow that road. I think we have to go to that tower over there.”

Bakugo had to admire your sense of adventure. To him, vacations had always meant sunny places, relaxing days, and nice hotels. Ever since meeting you though, he’d found that discovering new places, trying new things, and getting out of his comfort zone could be just as rejuvenating as lounging on a beach or going to the crowded and overpriced places where most people spent their holidays.

He keeps a comforting grip on your hand as you both hike up the road towards the tower you’d spotted. A car would pass by every couple of minutes, but the walk was spent in solitude for the most part. Despite his uncertainty, Bakugo enjoyed the chance to chat with you about the nice old lady you’d both met at the first train station this morning, possible ideas for dinner that night, and what adventure you might go on the next day. It wasn’t often that he got to be out with you without people gawking or coming up to ask him for a picture or autograph. Being out in rural areas like this gave him the opportunity to feel like a normal guy.

“Look! People!” You tell him teasingly as you come up to a small gravel parking lot sitting at the foot of the tower. There were a few cars parked there and a handful of people meandering the area, all of them older. A man in a uniform was stationed at the door of the tower with a roll of tickets. Bakugo pays for two and then lets you go in front of him to start climbing the stairs since they were too narrow for you both to walk side by side.

When you reach the top, you step out onto the balcony high above the ground and let out a hum of surprise. “Katsuki! Wow!” He steps out right after you, sliding his arm around your waist protectively even though there’s a railing to stop anyone from falling.

“Oh!” His eyebrows shoot up as he takes in the view. The seemingly normal rice fields you’d walked through before had actually been used as a canvas. Different colors of rice plants had been strategically planted to create a massive work of art that could only be appreciated by a view from above. “They made the Momotaro fairy tale.”

“It’s amazing!” You pull out your phone to try and take a picture even though the art was too vast to fit in one shot. “This is certainly worth the trip over, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, definitely!” his replay comes quickly and genuinely. “Here, turn around so we can get a picture together.” His apprehension from before had all but vanished. He should’ve known you’d never suggest something that ended up being disappointing. And even if you both did end up somewhere dull one day, the experience of journeying together always seemed to strengthen your relationship and bring you closer than before.

[pelleluxur12]

[henryliamusa]

If you are looking to Buy Tulip Bags Online or want to Shop Women’s Bags Online, it could be a difficult proposition indeed. But, given the market dynamics, if you are able to research a bit, you could script a success story in every sense of the term.

At Angela Barbieri, based in France, we offer an exclusive range of Ladies Handbags Online, that will simply make you get enthralled with the variety of products. Our products are genuine leather-based and offer eco-sustainability as well.

[the-blackorchid1]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: MARC JACOBS FINE BLACK CALF LEATHER VENETIA RESORT SATCHEL BAG PURSE womens.

[tshureih]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: [$200 OFF] Gucci 1955 Horsebit handbag.