#How to pick something up in a ladylike manner?

[lizzy019]

𝒜𝓇𝑒 𝒴𝑜𝓊 𝐼𝓃 𝐿𝑜𝓋𝑒? ...𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝑅𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝒯𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒯𝒾𝓂𝑒?

Sub!Two-Bit x Fem!Reader [Reader is best friends with Two-Bit] SLOW BURN!

cw -> somnophilia, masturbation, couch seggs, breast play, cowgirl, dacryphilia, light degradation

Word Count -> 6.2K (crazy ikr?)

Two-Bit is mah baby whatchu on abttttt

“Blasted car.” You muttered to yourself, parking your now useless vehicle onto the side of the road where people couldn’t hit it.

The car had stopped working, shooting out clouds of black smoke from its exhaust pipe while the little clunking noise had become repetitive from somewhere in the back of your vehicle.

With obvious exhaustion in your eyes, you find yourself trekking along the muddy and overgrown sidewalks, trying to spot Two-Bit’s house anywhere nearby to stay for a bit until a tow company could come pick up your car. Unfortunately, while you couldn’t find his house, you stumbled upon him trying to pick up a random innocent girl on the streets, who so clearly wanted nothing to do with him.

So with tired steps, you made your way over to the two and sighed heavily to announce your presence. This had Two-Bit looking over in confusion, smiling at you instantly and forgetting the other girl quicker than he could even think it. His hands grabbed your shoulders and happily shook you, making you a little dizzy, but a smile still managed to cross your face.

“Heya, numbnut! You wanna go with me to get ice cream? I’m so hungry, but food’s too hard to cook.” He frowned, hands moving to fix the little fold of hair hanging over his forehead. How could you possibly say no to him?

“I mean, I would, but my car’s busted. I think the engine’s worn out, and I was hopin’ I could stay over at your place until a tow truck driver comes by to pick up my car for a fix.” You murmured, hands pushed deep into the warm fabric of your pockets, eyes staying fixated on him as you watched him think.

With a soft grin on his lips, he nodded his head happily and politely let you loop your arm with his. In this sort of neighbourhood, any woman was likely to have something improper done to them without the supervision of another man. With paced steps, Two-Bit began to lead you to his house, talking away gleefully as you travelled to your awaiting destination.

“Oh, it was gnarly alright! The movie was sick, I don’t think I’ve ever seen somethin’ so swell! I ain’t never watched a movie starrin’ a girl either, but it was pretty alright. What about you, numby?” He asked with a smirk, awaiting an answer as you only shook your head and smiled.

What a big goof he was.

“Unlike you, I was drivin’ up to go get food. I was runnin’ low and you know how my family gets. I gotta be the one to do everythin’ nowadays..” You contempted, gently bumping him with your hip to try and get him to stumble. It was playful, a common little joke you did to amuse each other.

“Why were you buggin’ that girl? You gotta stop flirtin’ with ‘em just to bum their money, Two.”

Two-Bit scoffed at your words, bumping you back playfully and shrugging. Soon, you arrived at his home.

“My life’s boring, smartass. Gotta do somethin’ while Brenda’s at school, yeah? Somethin’ aside drinkin’ and eating cake while watchin’ Mickey, but it doesn’t matter. I like my way of doin’ things.” He answered, walking you to the side door and allowing you into his little bungalow house.

While inside reeked of cigarettes, alcohol, and overall dirtiness, it held a sort of comfort that made it appealing to you. Maybe it was the mess in the kitchen that was all too real at your own home, or maybe it was the way Two-Bit flopped so freely onto the sofa without a care in the world in hopes he’d turn on the TV and find a rerun of a Mickey show, or maybe it was the way the house had this.. warm feeling. Regardless, you threw away all ladylike manners and plopped yourself down beside him, trying to prevent him from moving with your weight and giggling when he slammed a pillow to your face.

“Hey! That’s not nice, I’ve been nothing but kind to you.” You tried to act innocuous, yet it was rebutted with another whack of the pillow which had both of you laughing hysterically.

The hand on the time’s clock finally hit 6:30, and just a moment or two later, Two-Bit’s mother and Brenda came through the side door. Why was the side door so popular for entry when there was a front door?

Nonetheless, Brenda’s beady blue eyes met yours and the cute 6 year old ran over to you with the most curious and gleeful expression you could possibly think of. She was the spitting image of Two-Bit, chubby face with the cutest eyes, lovely dirty blonde hair and the prettiest little smile. She looked like an absolute sweetheart!

“Are you another girlfriend that.. that Keith brought home?” Brenda asked you, a soft inhale between words as she collected some of her thoughts to speak them properly. You had to choke back a laugh, smiling so widely you were sure you looked like the Cheshire cat.

“No, sweetie, I’m not. You’re Brenda, aren’t you? Your brother says everyone calls you Annie.” You responded with faux serenity, trying to maintain your composure at the sweet sight of the little female version of Two-Bit. It was honestly adorable.

With a bright little gappy smile, Brenda nodded and hopped onto the couch beside you, sweet little hands coming to fiddle around with your purse.

“Yeah, everyone calls me Annie or Bren, but you can call me whatever! I’m just happy you’re not one of those weird girls he brings over, they scare me.” She muttered, her little petite hands releasing your purse before moving to the sleeve of your shirt. She seemed very curious, but before you could say much, Brenda tried to wriggle herself into your lap to watch Mickey more comfortably. So Mickey Mouse was common in the household?

“Alright Annie. You know you’re very pretty, right? You look a lot like your brother and your mother.” You paused to speak, gently beginning to split the little amount of hair she had to put two small braids on her head.

Entwining the hair together to form a pattern while Two-Bit and Brenda laughed at whatever was playing on the TV screen, you didn’t have the chance to see his mother walk by, a tired expression clearly tainting her facial features before she appeared in your peripheral vision. She seemed very content watching the three of you, and you paid no mind as to not embarrass her.

“Do you three want anything in particular for dinner?” Her dulcet and soft voice rang through the room, alerting the two siblings and you as well.

You could only shrug, putting the decision on the two as you finished Brenda’s braids. Now she had two lovely french braids, loose enough to be comfortable but tight enough to stay in place.

“Potatoes ‘n gravy!” Brenda exclaimed with glee, hopping off of your lap to scurry over and help her mother in the kitchen with dinner.

You smiled graciously at this sight, and a simple thought ran through your head as you watched. Brenda was a good kid, swell beyond belief and as kind as any girl could hope to be. Two-Bit sat up as well, handing you the remote in case you wanted to watch anything while he walked over to help set up the table. It seemed everyone had a job in the family, a role to play to get a task done.

You shut off the TV, setting the remote on the coffee table and sighing while you pushed yourself up off of the sofa to follow behind. Entering the kitchen, you were met with the unpleasant sight of garbage mixed with beer bottles, cigarette packs, carton boxes and filth piled up. While it had you frowning, the way Two-Bit had Brenda on his shoulders, grabbing the plates from the highest shelf to set the table, and his mother with the most affectionate smile anyone could ever display while she watched them was what distracted you from the mess. As long as they were happy, nothing else really mattered.

His mother’s gaze fell to you, and with a smile, she gestured you over. Without a second thought, you hurried over and smiled back, giving her the softest expression you possibly could.

“Yes, ma’am? Did you need something from me?” You asked politely, and his mother nodded slowly.

“Yes, I need you to mash the potatoes while I make the gravy. They’re already peeled, could you do that for me? If you don’t wish to, I could get Keith to do it.” She hummed out, moving to the fridge to dig out the proper ingredients while you agreed to it without a doubt.

How could you possibly say no when she looked so tired already?

With gentle motions, you began to mash the softened potatoes, carefully smashing them in the bowl they were in and adding the occasional sprinkle of salt and pepper to add flavour. No one likes flavourless, warm mashed potatoes anyway.

Sitting at the dining room table, skies dark outside and the one light overhead keeping the dining room table lit, you all were happily chit chatting over some steamed chicken, mashed potatoes and veggies. You had to admit, Two-Bit’s mother could cook really damn good. Regardless, you couldn’t help but occasionally frown whenever it seemed that Brenda disliked the veggies. It was sweet though, you could see your own younger self in her at times.

“Annie, are you okay, sweetheart? You look like you don’t like your food.” You always found yourself in awe by how gentle his mother was, but you smiled when Brenda pouted and pushed away her plate, everything nearly licked clean off except for the damned veggies.

“Mama, I don’t wanna eat ‘em! Yucky.” She pouted, bottom lip pushed forward in a plea to not eat them.

With a soft sigh, their mother nodded and shooed away the child to go watch shows on the television while she finished the rest of the veggies. You felt bad, but you didn’t wanna say anything in case you were interrupting something. But you turned to Two-Bit and saw him purloining the vegetables from his mother’s plate, and it wasn’t even sneakily anymore. He probably had the same thought process.

His mother turned to him with a wide smile, and you couldn’t help smiling yourself. She looked so happy.

“Keith, where will your friend stay? The guest room is occupied with all of our things. Would it be awkward to ask if you two could maybe share a bed for tonight? If not, we can clean up the guest bedroom for her.” She was almost too sweet, and you could tell Two-Bit was thinking the same thing.

While it would indeed be a bit awkward sleeping together with your best friend, you didn’t wish to put her through more work considering she just came back from a 14 hour shift. You shook your head, taking all the plates and cutlery to put them into the sink. In the kitchen with a sponge in hand, you began to clean all the used dishes and cutlery, as well as the glasses. It was the least you could do since they let you stay at their place for a day or two until the tow truck came. Unfortunately, there was still no one. Apparently they were “behind on schedule.”

Once you were finished, you looked back into the living room where Two-Bit had another beer in his hand, Brenda was sitting with a box of juice, and their mother laid on the armchair with a blanket on her lap trying to get some sleep. It was a sweet sight, you couldn’t lie.

“Two-Bit, can I use your shower? I promise I won’t be long, but where is it?” You asked serenely, smoothly almost.

His gaze wafted over to yours, and he nodded while he sat up to lead you to the bathroom. Soft steps followed by creaking floorboards were all that was heard for a moment or two. The hallway walls were littered with family photos, the one that stood out to you the most was the one with just Two-Bit, his mom and his dad. Two-bit had a father?

You paid no mind, tippy-toeing until you found the bathroom at the end of the hall. You thanked him silently, giving his arm a little slap before giggling and hiding away in the bathroom.

Stripping the clothes you wore off of your body so you could freely shower, the cold tiles of the floor stinging your feet, you began to find yourself smiling at the little collection of rubber ducks you presumed were Brenda’s. It was sweet, honestly. You turned on the shower, keeping it at your favourite temperature before hopping in to wash away any stress left behind from your car incident. While it was nice staying with Two-Bit, you had this little nagging feeling in your chest, something tight that made everything feel a little too rough around the edges.

You tried convincing yourself that it was just stress as you washed your body with soap, lathering it on all parts of flesh that were dirty or sore before rinsing under the shower’s waves of rain. You were losing it, there was no way you were falling for Two-Bit and just how lovely his whole lifestyle was. There was no way from a simple visit to his house, you had finally managed to convince yourself of it.

But that can only hold out for so long.

Two-Bit handed you a shirt while you embarrassingly covered your breasts from his view, taking the shirt in your free hand before he turned around so his back faced you, giving you privacy to put it on. You did just that, you threw the shirt over your head and popped your arms through the sleeve holes, finding the shirt to be just a tad bit too loose as it hung low around your collarbone.

Nonetheless, you found it cozy and you found yourself liking the smell of it. Needless to say it stunk with cigarette and beer, but it also had that scent that only Two-Bit had, that little chocolatey and woody kind of smell. It was nice, you couldn’t lie.

It had now reached 10:30 at night, you were exhausted from everything and honestly, you really didn’t want any more disturbances, so you tugged at Two-Bit’s arm and gestured for him to lay down and rest as well. Your head rested on the pillow he provided you, eyes already shut as his weight dipped the bed. You smiled softly when he covered your body with the blanket, it was sweet.

“Mmh.. thanks for everything, Two-Bit. ‘M sorry the tow truck company isn’t here yet, I swear I called them twice.” You apologized, hands tucked close to you as you felt yourself drifting off too quickly.

Two-Bit didn’t seem to mind, he was busy watching how your body looked in his shirt. He couldn’t tell you what was happening to him, how you affected him and how you annoyingly messed with his mind more than you already did. He simply gave a hum of acknowledgement to your statement, watching you fully succumb to the strength of your exhaustion before he moved his hand to rub at his crotch.

It was wrong, he knew it was. But he also knew you were a deep sleeper, he could use that to his advantage.

A hand came to dig his own half erection from his underwear, and his other trying to gently push up your shirt without having you stir or move. It was a selfish and greedy way to get what he wanted, what he’d been seeking since he first met you. He knew you’d never feel the same, you’d never wanna be with a guy like him. Someone scolded by society, shunned and disgraced.

Two-Bit was different from Keith. Keith was soft towards his family, loving to his friends, but Two-Bit was the one who was rebellious, boisterous and careless.

Soft groans left his mouth as he watched the slow rise and fall of your chest, nipples erect from the cold of the air. The way they moved and swayed whenever you subconsciously moved your body to become more comfortable. He felt so wrong, he didn’t know if this was a Two-Bit move or a Keith move. Whichever it was, it was a low move for the sake of getting his own pleasure.

His strokes on his weepy cock became more desperate until he focused solely on the tingling and burning of an orgasm building up. Poor Two-Bit, struggling not to moan, cum, or move too much for the sake of himself and everyone else’s sleep. But surely enough, his hand clasped the tip of his cock while thick spurts of semen began to spew out from the head, overfilling his hand and some inevitably pouring onto the bedding.

A loud whimper managed to leave his throat, until he too was knocked out from exhaustion. The sleep had managed to overcome his own need to clean up his hand and rid it from the semen on it, but he was dead asleep before he even had the thought to go and clean himself up. He’d do it in the morning..

Waking up to rustling fabrics wasn’t the most pleasant way to start your morning, but it was enough to get you going. You pulled down your shirt which you thought innocently was shifted while you were asleep, stretching and accidentally bonking Two-Bit right in the head. This woke you up more properly, and you began to apologize lazily.

“Mmh.. sorry, Two. Didn’t mean it.” You hummed, voice groggy from lack of use during the night while you tried to blink your eyes awake. Unfortunately, you were still too tired to even care about starting the day when the bed was warm and Two-Bit was there beside you.

However, Two-Bit looked down at his crotch, angry with his new morning wood he hadn’t realized until he moved his legs. But when he saw you were oblivious to it, he took it as his chance to get out of his own room as fast as he possibly could. Pants on and shirt messy, he zipped out from the room, leaving you hazy and confused all by yourself.

You didn’t mind, eyes adjusting to the daylight beaming through the curtains. You hummed and groaned softly, pushing yourself off of the fabric mattress and rubbing your eyes. Everything was stiff, your legs and back especially. Maybe some breakfast and a walk would do you some good.

You hobbled out of bed, securing some pants before peeking into Brenda’s room to check in on the sweetheart. She was just happily snoozing away, you couldn’t bring yourself to wake her up. Tip-toeing to the living room and dining room, you saw their mother still on the couch, Two-Bit reading the newspaper and sipping some tea. This had you smiling, he looked rather handsome with eye bags and glazed eyes.

Wait- handsome?!

You caught yourself mid thought, looking at him more thoroughly and your eyes uncomfortably drifted lower to where a slight bulge was most prominent under his pants. Your own body shivered, eyes darting back into the kitchen out of nervousness and discomfort as you made yourself a tea as well.

Soon enough, once your water had finished boiling, you had poured yourself a soft tea with sugar and honey to get you started, and you sat near the television to spectate over his mother in case she woke up and needed anything. She was such a sweetheart, and definitely needed the most care. Soft sips were the only noises heard in the room, coming from you and Two-Bit drinking your morning drinks. While it wasn’t pleasant, it had a nice and cozy, homey feeling.

You occasionally looked over at Two-Bit, seeing him unfocused as if he was using the newspaper to look busy but in reality it was only to cover up whatever else his mind was doing. It always wandered, Two-Bit’s thoughts.

Once you had finished your tea, you’d set it down on the coffee table and hurried to get dressed, needing to see if they took your car or not. Your own blouse was put on, pants as well before you rushed to the front door to grab your shoes. A soft “see you” was uttered by Two-Bit, and you responded with the same words before lightly jogging out of the house to go check.

Jogging through the front door and down the stairs, you managed to spot what looked like an oil blotch where your car was parked previously. A “yes!” escaped you when you realized they’d taken your car, and hopefully would be finished fixing it in a day. You didn’t wish to invade Two-Bit and his family’s home as if it was normal.

You jogged back to the house, a little tweak in your breath but overall having a more refreshed feeling now that you had breathed in the fresh air and got that good news. Once you entered through the side door like before, you found yourself looking around in confusion. Where had Two-Bit’s mother gone? Your worry was soon replaced with relief when Brenda had rushed into the living room, jumping with energy while her mother followed behind her.

Her tired eyes met yours, and she smiled gently at your soft huffs and puffs. Her smile didn’t hurt you in the slightest.

“Running in the morning? I didn’t take you for the athletic type, dear.” She hummed, taking the newspaper from Two-Bit to read it herself and sighing deeply.

“What misfortunes ruin our world now?”

You chuckled at her question, shrugging and playfully slapping the back of Two-Bit’s head. It earned a soft chuckle from him, and you chuckled as well.

“John Kennedy is elected President? What a mockery to our country.” Two-Bit’s mother hissed, earning a laugh from you both.

You looked at the bill for your car’s payment and the due date of your car’s pick up day.

$324.

Bill due - Sept. 18

Pick up day - Sept. 14

You had a week to pay off your car’s repairs, and had to wait three more days until you could pick up your vehicle?

It nearly had tears in your eyes, but you let them flow freely since you were all alone in the now quiet house. No Two-Bit, no Brenda, or their mother. The only sound in response to your sobs were the echoes of them once they left your throat.

How could you possibly pay off this bill in that short amount of time? Everything was getting so stressful and worrisome, it was all just piling up and piling up-

A loud creak startled you out of your spiral, making your body tense almost too fast and had your poor heart rate increasing faster than it had to be. Regardless of that, you tried your hardest to stop your unnecessary tears, fearing whoever was in the house would ridicule you for it. Whoever it was, it had every nerve in your body tightening as the footsteps grew nearer.

The door to Two-Bit’s door had opened, and sure enough, it was him. At first, you couldn’t tell what his expression was, but he hurried in to help you when he saw your current distress.

For a second, you truly didn’t know what to do, but you handed him the papers you received and he read them over carefully for your sake and his comfort. Two-Bit had to re-read it multiple times over, reading it out of confusion and laughing afterward. This seemed so incredibly stupid! You both were rather incredulous about the whole situation, but when he saw you had true distress, worry, and stress behind your beautifully coloured eyes, he knew he had to act properly. Even if you were best friends, he really had to step up and be the person you could lean on.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. I’ll help pay this off with you, yeah? You don’t even owe me after, how’s that sound?” Two-Bit offered generously, his expression grim as he saw you wipe tears from your face.

However, words couldn’t describe how happy he was when he saw you smiling all big and wide again at his offer, still sniffling a little. His hand came to gently rub your shoulder out of comfort and instinct, he couldn’t ever tell you how he felt seeing you so melancholy.

“Yeah, thanks, Two. I’d really appreciate that.” You hummed, sniffling once or twice more before he pulled you in for an honest hug.

Soon, it was the evening of the next day. You’d become Brenda’s “favourite girlfriend of Keith’s” despite not being his girlfriend, but you let her call you it anyway. You were happy the sweet little girl liked you so much to begin with!

You sat with Brenda on the couch, her in your lap as you both watched whatever was on TV. Two-Bit was staring holes into your skull as you put your focus on the screen, but he could tell you were only doing it for his sister’s enjoyment. He loved that about you, the way you were so sweet to his sister purely because you were his best friend.

He didn’t want to be best friends though.

It was almost unhealthy how obsessed he was with you, how desperately he wanted to be wrapped around your inner walls and feel your body pressed to his. To feel what your kisses would be like, to grope you and have you as his in totality and to push any risk and discontentful thoughts of being just a friend. It was like some uncontrollable magnetic pull, something that attracted him to you without meaning.

Two-Bit stuttered out of his thoughts when his mother came into the room, looking at Brenda with knowing eyes. Brenda gave a “hmph” before hopping from your lap, and she hurried off with her mother. You were confused, but you didn’t want to ask questions and seem rude for not letting his family have their privacy. You watched as the two put on their outdoor shoes before Brenda waved goodbye to you.

Soon enough, they had headed out and it was just you and Two-Bit alone in the house once again. While this caused you discomfort, you didn’t say anything and just shut off the TV.

However, Two-Bit sat right beside you, stiff as a sack of twigs before his eyes met yours. You could tell he was nervous from the way his eyes couldn’t maintain eye contact, and the way he was fidgeting in his seat was also a definite giveaway. But you didn’t say anything out of kindness.. and because he looked a little too pathetic.

“I gotta talk to you. Not no joke either, need you to be serious here.” He muttered out to you, hoping you heard him properly since his voice was all too quiet.

You nodded at his words, giving him your full and undivided attention while you waited patiently for him to properly collect and plan out what he wanted to tell you. It took some time, some open mouthed tries to spurt a word or two out, yet he struggled.

Finally, he worked out whatever knot he had in his throat and looked at you more seriously.

“I dunno how to tell you this, but somethin’s been goin’ on with me. I used to see you as a friend, a good friend no less, but now you’re lookin’ more and more like a goddess from the heavens. I catch myself havin’ these spirals of likin’ you so much to the point it hurts, and then it goes to some lewd and lustful part of me that wants to have you so fully in my hands. My little Minnie mouse, I dunno what to do anymore.” Two-Bit spoke almost too fast, you had to focus and listen real close.

Once you understood, you gave the softest hum and looked at your own lap. You didn’t quite know how to react. Sure, you felt the same, but how would that work? Regardless, your gaze came back to meet his and your confused expression became more accepting, more serene and agreeable.

“The feeling’s mutual then. I guess it’s a requited emotion we’re both experiencing, is it not?” You hummed out, your legs moving to straddle his hips while you looked at him intently.

Two-Bit was absolutely ecstatic when he got your confirmation on you feeling the same about him, his heart beating almost too fast and it felt like it would rip right through his ribcage. Hell, he’d let it do it if it wasn’t for him needing his heart to live. His dry hands came to touch the skin of your waist under your little top.

Your skin was so soft, warm and plush when he pressed his fingers into it to grip you better. The strength of his grip wasn’t too bad, but it showed his insistence on having you stay on his lap. You couldn’t help but smile, a hand coming to gently pull his bottom lip away from the top one. Soon enough, your mouths were pressed to one another and everything began to unfold.

Tongues swirling around, you could only enjoy what he tasted like. Beer obviously, but there was this little minty taste too, something alluring that had you trying to push your mouth closer to his own. Unfortunately, you could only go so far.

Nonetheless, his hands needily tried to tug at your top to signal that he wanted it off, and that he had to have you in that totality he yearned for for so long. Desperate attempts were ensued, and he finally managed to fling it off of you and toss it to the side. The kiss was put on pause as he eyed your breasts so perfectly held up by your bra, a lovely shaded colour that complimented your skin.

“Oh baby, you’re so pretty..” He hummed, unclipping the bra and putting it to the side. He was practically drooling when he saw your supple breasts on display, just for him.

Two-Bit attached his mouth to your nipple, eliciting a moan from your pretty lips while his hand was playing and tweaking the other one until they were both hard and tingly. Call him a simp, but he was genuinely getting off to your soft noises and the way your body reacted so pleasantly to his ministrations. You felt your pussy leaking in your panties for him, for his own body.

“Oh, Keith.. yeah, you’re doin’ good, baby. Fuckin’ shit..” You groaned, a hand grasping his bicep while the other fiddled with his hair.

The praise you so graciously handed him and calling him his real name had his already erect cock tightening the confines of his jeans further. He’d love hearing you degrade him, but maybe that’d be too embarrassing to ask for and he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t need it that bad.

He pulled away from your nipple, his hands moving to wriggle your pants off of you, pulling your undergarments off with it until you were bared entirely to him. While it was indeed a bit embarrassing, you found yourself yearning for some kind of acceptance from him, not just some blank stare.

Truth be told, he was just admiring how wet you’d gotten for him, and how it’d stained your panties and left a lovely sticky patch all in between your thighs. If he’d known any better, he’d be eating it all up like it was his last meal. But no, this moment wasn’t about one person getting pleasure only. Two-Bit wanted to experience a moment of true cherishment with you, where it was both of you in your own world experiencing only feelings you could bring each other. So he took his clothes off as well, both of you bare and flat on the sofa. No, he wanted you to be in control, he wanted to see you take him like every fantasy he had of you wanted.

“Get on top’a me, baby. You take the lead, yeah?” He murmured out sweetly, stroking his weepy cock in his hand while he waited for you to start.

You both adjusted positions, now he was flat on his back on the sofa with his hands at your hips, and you meticulously fisted his cock once or twice before sitting yourself atop it. It was a struggle, but your self-lube and his precum were enough to make the movement quick, and soon his erection slipped into your pussy’s walls and enveloping his length happily.

Moans were bouncing and echoing off of the living room walls, the only thing repeating in your mind was how to move your hips and legs, and how amazing Two-Bit’s hard rod felt deep inside your core, kissing your cervix with a painful little pang until everything became mind numbingly sensational.

“Oh Keith! Yeah, baby, get that dick in there! Come on, you makin’ me do all the work? You lazy sack of shit.” You chided with pants and hard inhales, exhales becoming too hard to control.

He moaned wildly at your degradation, hips bucking into your pelvic bone to make up for his slacking that you made abundantly clear you disliked. His head was thrown back, hot streams of tears falling down his cheeks while he tried so hard to appease you and overcome your expectations.

The orgasm bubbling and moving in your lower stomach was almost painful with how strong it was trying to push through, but you held on and smirked at his tears. It showed how good you were making him feel, and it was honestly pretty hot. Regardless of that, you focused for a bit longer, watching him really begin to writhe and squirm.

“Oh fuck, baby, gonna cum! Ohh God yes, don’t stop! I’ll be good, wanna be good for you, baby!” Two-Bit shrieked in ecstasy, the orgasmic feeling of your walls tightening against him was almost enough to have his tip burst out semen, but he held on just like you were.

It was like a silent challenge to see who’d climax first.

Two-Bit struggled, eyes squeezed shut as they spurted more tears. Sure enough, his fingers dug into your waist when his climax shot through every nerve in his body, causing his movements to cease while he waited for his pleasured climax to simmer down.

You thrusted yourself onto his cock once or twice more until you too reached the climax you were pining for. It made a loud moan rip from your rest, reverberating your vocal cords while your release lifted you to cloud nine. It was white, searing pleasure, nothing less of congenial ecstasy.

Now it was just silence, asides the huffs and puffs you both gave as you recuperated from what was the most heavenly experience you could possibly live to go through.

“Well.. that was a wild experience, haha! Come on, let’s go wash off before Annie and mom come back from their program.” Two-Bit hummed out, kissing your cheek graciously before taking your hand and leading you off into the shower.

It was now safe to say you two had grown more close after that day. Hand holding became common, visits at each other’s places and shaboinking was a regular. You couldn’t say you disliked it at all. Except for the occasional weird stares you received out in public whenever people caught you two being all close. In the 60s, it was more improper for a woman to be boisterous and forward about her relationship, especially in the hood.

Now it came down to one final issue, and while it didn’t cause much harm to anything important, it served as a great annoyance to your day and commonly had you groaning with an eye roll and with a smile.

Little miss Brenda with all her curious questions, always asking you the cutest but most annoying things on the planet. It was sweet, but it got progressively harder to tolerate.

“Are you and Keith in love? For real this time?” She asked with a tone you couldn’t exactly code out, but you simply chuckled and patted her head.

“Yes, Keith and I are very in love, for real this time, Annie.” You answered, watching her expression contort into skepticism.

“He’s my brother, and even I wouldn’t trust him with that.” She retorted, pouting and stomping away.

This had both you and Two-Bit snickering quietly to yourselves, sharing a soft and innocent kiss before he parted to go and chide his sister.

[inaconstantstateofchange]

The Lost (Demonic) Art of Innkeeping

Lesbian BingYuan Pseudo-Historical AU

Word Count: 3k

Read it on AO3 here

Shen Yuan sighed as the warped and bowing front door creaked slowly shut behind the village head. It was nice of him to walk her out to her new property, but something about Yue Qi’s mannerisms kind of felt a little more like he was trying to get her away from the train station before she could change her mind. Looking at the dilapidated building in front of her now… she couldn’t say she blamed him. 

More wind than a self-respecting building should rightfully allow entry whistled through numerous cracks in the once-sturdy walls around her. There were several inches of dust and grime on every single surface, and some frankly concerning scuttling from down the hallway to her left. And, even for someone as unfamiliar with the intricacies of woodworking as her, Shen Yuan did not like the look of some of the spots on the ancient support beams. She cast a fretful look about her, but surely the listing agent would have had to disclose structural failures to that level. Not to mention, the village head would likely not have been in such a rush to leave her to get settled in if he thought he would return to find her squashed like a bug!

The pictures she had seen in the listing hadn’t been lying exactly, but the preponderance of ‘Look at its historical glory days! How beautiful! How magnificent to be the one to return it to its former splendor!’ inclusions suddenly made a lot more sense. Shen Yuan scowled to herself for a moment, then set her face. No! She was going to overcome this. So what if the prospect of the amount of work that was going to go into this project was honestly far more than she would have signed off on apportioning at the start. Like hell she was going to go back empty-handed, with nothing to show for her latest “ill-thought-out investment”. This time, it was going to work. Her admittedly-thin face could not take another year of knowing looks and ‘good-natured’ humor verging on cruel pity at every single social event she found herself at. 

She turned to set her valise on the floor beside the entrance, then quickly thought better of it when she saw the pile of rags there arranged in the form of a – hopefully unoccupied – nest. She squeaked – in a very ladylike way! – and darted two steps away, clutching her valise protectively closer. Her traveling clothes she could take or leave, but she’d be damned before she let anything happen to her prized texts! 

Shen Yuan picked her way across alarmingly creaking floorboards to inspect the rest of the dilapidated inn — her inn, as of the paperwork signed just this morning. The kitchen was… a kitchen! She verified that there was a stove and an antiquated icebox just as stated in the listing details, then opened one or two cabinets aimlessly. Cobwebs, cracked and dusty teacup, snake, more cob—Shen Yuan swore her neck creaked like the rest of the hinges in this place as she looked back to her left to confirm. Yup! Still a snake! Hah! She exhaled harshly, biting down on what would definitely not have been another squeak, and slammed the cabinet door shut again as she speedwalked out of the kitchen. 

Behind the cupboard door the teacup spun, and toppled, another hairline fracture joining the others obscuring its original pattern. 

Shen Yuan paused again once she was back in the main hall of the inn, at the foot of the stairs that she was in no way optimistic enough to try out tonight — or at all, for that matter, at least not until she’d had someone out to look at them who was not affiliated with the building’s seller. Surely even a town this quaint had to have a carpenter, right? 

Her mental crafting of her to-do list broke off, interrupted by a yawn that almost cracked her jaw. Ergh, the hours of travel by train to get here – after already waking up hellishly early because the seller was in such a rush to get the paperwork signed – had exhausted her beyond reason. The sun had barely slipped below the horizon, flinging its last glimmers of golden light filtering through the surrounding trees and beating themselves against the grime-coated windows. Normally she would be up for hours yet! Now, all she wanted to do was find a bed that wasn’t housing some horrific manner of creature or fifty years’ worth of mold growth, and sleep for an entire day. 

As she poked her head tentatively into each of the four rooms on the first floor of the inn, however, Shen Yuan began to think she might, possibly, have made some slight miscalculations along the way. Nothing remained of the beds that existed here at some point in the past aside from their frames, all in varying states of disrepair — and in one tragic case, decomposition. The only linens she could find had more hole than cloth remaining to them from long exposure to the elements and the wild creatures that had been the only living beings using this place for its intended purpose for the last decades. 

Her eyes started to prickle with frustrated, overwhelmed tears, and she strongly considered just walking back to the train station to curl up on a bench and wait for the next train, dignity be damned. Only the brief recollection that the train service to this remote area was intermittent, not daily, kept her from following through. She threaded her fingers into the weave of her braid, draped over her shoulder, and squeezed tightly, trying to press the stress, overwhelm, and near-panic out into it. She had grown tired of the nail marks etched near-permanently into her own palms one day, and finally settled on this technique as a workable substitute. Sometimes – like now – she did miss the horribly satisfying bite of stinging flesh beneath her nails, however. 

Okay! Whatever! This shitty house-that-would-be-an-inn was not going to defeat her! A temporary retreat on her part was not a victory on its! She told herself all of these things staunchly, on repeat as she stepped carefully back out the front door the village head had ushered her so obligingly into just a few hours prior. She thought about heading back down the path toward the village proper, maybe seeing if Yue Qi had a spare bedroom, but the thought of the knowing look on his face as she admitted she was in over her head made her feel like she was going to vomit. 

Nope! Nope! She would figure something out, but she would not be doing that. Hell, people camped out under the stars all the time! And this region was known for its incredibly temperate climate and beautiful wildlife. She was just… doing preliminary research on the local attractions! Exactly! She nodded firmly to herself, determinedly ignoring the way the trees darkened forebodingly over the pathway back to the village. She would just… stay right here, and get a little catnap, and things would look better in the morning. 

Shen Yuan cast about for a spot that seemed tolerable, debating with herself over a few top contenders, before settling back against the trunk of a tall and sturdy tree. It was close enough to the inn that she didn’t feel like she was leaving its air of vaguely comforting – albeit rather derelict – civilization, but far enough that none of the creepy-crawlies within its walls were likely to bother with her. It was… not the most pleasant place of repose, but she convinced herself firmly that she had certainly had worse! …Even if no particular examples were coming to mind right at the moment. 

Shen Yuan closed her eyes and dozed off into a fitful sleep, valise serving as a very lumpy headrest. The moon above her shone down bright and yellow, almost-full. It followed her into her dreams, duplicating itself, then bleeding dull crimson from the outer edges, yellow eaten away until it remained only in the middle, burning like fierce and fiery eyes. She felt trapped in some sort of contest of wills, her eyes locked with the doubled moons as her own heartbeat grew fainter and fainter. At last, just as she felt on the cusp of… something, the moons blinked out, and she gasped awake, lurching forward. 

Crack!

Shen Yuan let out a loud groan, a blinding starburst of pain erupting from her forehead as it felt like she rammed it right into a wooden fencepost — a good one too, not the halfway-to-rotten things marking out the borders of her new property. Had she somehow moved in her sleep?? Was this normal?? Why did anyone ever go camping?! 

The ringing in her ears finally started to fade out, bringing with it fragments of a rich, melodious voice… stammering apologies? What was going on?? 

Shen Yuan carefully pried open one eye, wincing as even the tepid rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon managed to stab their way in, exacerbating the incredible headache building from the point on her forehead where she must have made contact with the woman before her. The woman who… Shen Yuan choked on her own spit as her vision finally shook into focus. 

Dark brown hair – so dark you could call it black without making a liar of yourself – billowed entrancingly out from the loose grasp of a handkerchief that was clearly not up to the task of containing it. Several thick sections had already fallen out from the front, framing the young woman’s face in a perfectly effortless manner, drawing the eye to the painfully exquisite symmetry of her face. Her skin was smooth and clear, and her eyes were just big enough to fall on the alluring side of unusual.  

Who allowed beauties like this to waste away in provincial villages! With a face like hers, this girl should be making her way in the big city by now, taking it by storm! Didn’t anyone ever tell her these provincial towns were supposed to be for the elderly and unlovable? 

She opened her mouth to say… something, hopefully none of the insipid things actually running through her mind, but the beauty beat her to it. Or, perhaps Shen Yuan was just finally able to hear her properly, with the ringing in her ears finally fading away entirely. 

“Furen? Can you hear me? Oh, this is really not ideal, I should probably send for Mu-dafu, but—” Her voice was rich and velvety, slightly husky in a way that sent shivers down Shen Yuan’s spine, but still girlish and sweet. Who knew people like this actually existed outside of novels — certainly none of which might be found in Shen Yuan’s own valise!

Shen Yuan took a deep breath, exhaled through the remaining pain, and managed to get both eyes open this time. The woman was somehow even more stunning like this, backlit in the gentle glow of the rising sun, and Shen Yuan almost had to slam them closed again at once. 

She raised a hand to placate the fretful girl, waving it loosely. “No need, no need! No harm done, see?” She put on her most unaffected expression, although the dubious look on the other woman’s face told her it maybe had not been her finest effort. “In fact, it’s truly what I get for sleeping outside!”

The girl’s beautiful face creased in a delicate frown — almost a pout. “I… wouldn’t go that far, but I was coming over to check on you, furen. Most people know not to stay too long out he—”

Shen Yuan cut her off, feeling guilty even as she did so, but needing to clarify to this lovely vision that she was not in fact some foolish wanderer. “Ah, yes, I’m hoping to stay in the building as soon as possible, but I got in quite late last night – the paperwork took ages, that weasel kept trying for more concessions – and, well… none of the rooms were really in a fit state—”

Now it was Shen Yuan’s turn to be interrupted, as the woman blurted out, something in her eyes that looked like shock, “You’ve bought the inn?” 

Shen Yuan bristled, pulling herself up as much as she could when she was pressed up against a tree trunk, her travel clothes extremely rumpled and her braid wisping undone around her. “Why yes, I have! All on my own, thank you very much, and I’ve got quite the plan for it! Now, if that’s all, I’m quite well, as you can see. No need to trouble yourself any further.”

The young woman lurched forward, reaching out toward Shen Yuan but stopping herself abortively. Her eyes had flooded with some strange emotion Shen Yuan found herself unable to discern. “No, no, furen, I apologize! You look extremely competent! It’s just that no one’s been willing to take a chance on this place in ages. We all thought it would just get swallowed by the woods someday.” She paused, then continued on, seeming almost bashful. “I… really am glad to hear you’ll be here to stay.”

Shen Yuan dissembled awkwardly for a few moments, feeling like she had made a bit of a fool of herself with her overreaction. “I… apologize, as well. Few things have gone exactly to plan recently, and I fear it's made me forget my graces. Do forgive me.”

The young woman’s blush darkened her cheeks becomingly as she glanced away, before her eyes darted back to meet Shen Yuan’s, almost sparkling. “Still, I really do feel horribly about it! You must allow me to make amends, I insist!”

Shen Yuan almost waved her off, but then judged that she was not in fact too good to pass up this opportunity to check a few items off her to-do list without having to go back into town herself. 

“... If you really do feel it necessary, I wouldn’t be opposed to some information about the village itself.” Shen Yuan paused, groping for a politic way to state it. “The inn is in… something of a worse state than I’d been led to believe, and I’m finding myself in need of a few specialists sooner than I’d hoped. Would you happen to know if there’s a local carpenter?”

The young woman hummed thoughtfully, looking back in the direction of the village with something of a shadow falling across her face. Her answer came slowly, almost unwillingly. “The Lius are the only ones nearby who would be able to manage the work you’ll be needing, I’d imagine.”

Shen Yuan smiled happily at her, imagining an elderly couple carrying on the traditions of yesteryear. How inspirational! And she was not at all above benefiting from their – presumable – expertise. 

She clapped her hands once decisively, dipping her head to the woman in front of her. “Thank you so much! You’ve truly saved me some legwork on that one.” She stood up forcefully, shaking out the worst of the wrinkles in her skirt and traveling coat. As she did so, another thought struck her. She paused for a moment, then decided it wasn’t like she had much to lose. “Ah, actually, guniang…”

The young woman, getting to her feet alongside Shen Yuan, shot up even faster at being directly addressed. “Yes?”

Shen Yuan was momentarily distracted to find that the clearly younger woman was… actually a bit taller than her. Shen Yuan was used to being one of the tallest women of her acquaintance, and wasn’t quite sure how she felt about this. The young woman gave a polite cough, and Shen Yuan felt her cheeks heat as she realized she’d let the pause extend awkwardly. 

She gave a slight cough, then continued, just a bit too quickly. “That is, I’d meant to ask, would you perhaps know of anyone else in the area who might be looking for a job as a housekeeper? I’ll need a cook too of course, in the future, but… given the state of things, a housekeeper is definitely the first order of business.”

The woman’s eyes widened fetchingly before she tilted her head forward, the thick locks of hair that framed her face obscuring them for just a moment before swaying back as she raised her head to meet Shen Yuan’s gaze. An enigmatic expression played over the edges of her lips briefly before they stretched into a true smile. 

“Actually, furen, if you’re taking applicants, I’d put myself first on the list.”

Her shapely lips opened to continue on, no doubt to lay out her references or skills, but Shen Yuan didn’t let her finish. “Hired!” She blurted out immediately. If this beauty did not know how much higher she could aim, well… Shen Yuan would certainly help her out in the future, but she truly could not afford to let this opportunity pass her by. Please do not hold it against her, guniang! Shen Yuan thought of the snake awaiting her inside, along with other untold horrors, and firmed her heart. 

The young woman’s cheeks had darkened with a delicate blush, and she smiled directly at Shen Yuan with a truly overwhelming force. The sun itself would crawl away in shame at being so tragically outdone! 

“I’m looking forward to working with you then…” The young woman’s voice trailed off leadingly. 

Shen Yuan flushed again, realizing that, this entire time, she had neglected to properly introduce herself. Her new employee was liable to quit before she even began if Shen Yuan kept making such a poor showing of herself! 

“Shen Yuan,” she rushed to correct her oversight. “Pleased to meet you.”

The young woman’s eyes creased shut in a brilliant smile. Just before the lids pressed closed, Shen Yuan could swear the light glinting off of them gave the illusion of a red spark buried deep within them. For a moment, a vision of twinned red moons twisted through her mind, fractaling away as the other woman opened her mouth to speak. 

“This one is Luo Binghe, Shen-furen.” Her tone shifted subtly, her next words coming out as almost a purr. “And I’m certain the pleasure is all mine.”

[raydiationpoisoning]

I don't believe I've shared her before, so here she is, my Arcane oc, The Cleaner. That's just her name. That's all she's known as. Be it graffiti on the walls or bodies that need dumped, she's your girl.

How did you get her card? You don't recall. But everyone who knows her knows that she's good at what she does. She cleans up and disappears into obscurity the second it's spick and span.

She isn't from Zaun or Piltover because she's not from anywhere. She doesn't need to be someone, she does something, offers a service, and is reliable. That's all that matters.

Though she carries herself like an upper-class woman, her skills and know-how reflect a rough life in the undercity. She has no loyalties. She works on commission rather than contract. She has cleaned out the skeletons in noble closets and undone chemical spills in places no one cares to.

No one knows where The Cleaner goes at the end of the day, but there are whispers that she has a home she keeps in perfect stagnant spotlessness, frozen at the day her world ended. She has a lock of hair in her pocket and gun at her side. A ladylike manner and gloves that never come off.

No fingerprints are ever found because The Cleaner doesn't have them. She's a professional no one but seems to have a fondness for all children. It is her Achilles high-heel.

And bonus jayvik!

Pick up boyfriend gently like a cat. Trust me, he will love it.

[lilbagdermole]

Toph's Characterization, ATLA Comics - A Dissertation

Chapter One - The Rift (Part One)

I'm going to start with the third entry of the 'Avatar: The Last Airbender' Comic Series because Toph's characterization isn't too off-putting in 'The Promise' (though it still had many infuriating panels that I'll get to in the future) and she isn't present in 'The Search'. So, we'll start off with 'The Rift' - the first and only Toph-centric comic, despite being a fan favorite character and one of the main characters of the show.

And, the very first panel with our favorite Earthbender is a slap to the face to Toph's character arc as well as her personality:

Toph Beifong is questioning whether or not Earth Kingdom citizens can united alongside Fire Nation citizens.

This is coming from the first member of the Gaang that warmed up to Zuko when he presents himself in the Western Air Temple (and willingly went to speak to him, despite everyone's disapproval).

This is coming from the same person who willingly sat down for a cup of tea with Uncle Iroh. And even after discovering he was a member of the Fire Nation Royal Family, she still thought and spoke highly of his character (Aang does state that Toph mentions that Iroh gives great tea and advice).

This is coming from the same person who travelled across the Fire Nation, observed how their is good in evil; fought beside the Fire Nation Prince to stop the war and even reassured him that HE WAS GOOD when he doubted himself during the Ember Island Play!

Obviously, Toph may have her doubts and concerns given they're discussing the government of a Fire Nation Colony - territory that once pertained to the Earth Kingdom. And yes, hostility and dissatisfaction may be a legitimate concern. However, it's the way she phrases her sentence that irks me. It almost seems as though Toph is doubting the possibility of genuine unanimity forging between the two different Nations. And it's really off-putting because Toph had never ONCE, during her screen time on ATLA, questioned the possibility of blossoming friendships with people of the Fire Nation.

It's also a lesson Aang teaches her in 'The Avatar and The Firelord':

Toph: It's like these people are born bad

Aang: No, that's wrong. I don't think that was the point of what Roku showed me at all (...) Roku was just as much Fire Nation as Sozin was, right? If anything, their story proves anyone's capable of great good and great evil.

And now, we commence my substantial hatred for the portrayal of Toph's manners:

Yes, in the original series Toph does have a few scenes (that I can recall, three) where she does something that is generally un-ladylike and bad-mannered. But, I cannot understand what it is with Bryke and their obsession of depicting Toph being rude and gross in almost every other scene.

In 'The Promise' we had a few other scenes and 'The Rift', not fifteen pages in, and we get these two scenes almost back-to-back. And, it no longer correlates to Toph's want to disconnect from her pompous upbringing. This is how Bryke choose to write their "tomboy" coded characters, and it's disrespectful.

We don't see any other female character do these types of actions. Not Katara, not Suki, not Ty Lee, not Mai, not Azula. Toph is exclusively the only character that acts this way. And it really leaves a bad taste in my mouth once you come to terms that Byrke associate "tomboy female characters" with unhygienic, gross and rude behavior. You can write Toph desiring to abandon her rigorous upbringing and be less traditionally feminine without portraying her this way. It's just perpetuating a very nasty stereotype that's already been constructed with this type of media.

And don't get me wrong, there is nothing wrong with depicting female characters doing things that are considered unladylike (example: burping, picking their teeth, etc.). But, how come no other female character acts this way? We never see none of the other traditionally feminine characters, such as Katara or Mai, act this way. Like I said, it's feeding into a very weird and harmful stereotype.

Oh boy.

So, we enter the central conflict between Aang and Toph.

To contextualize this, whilst Aang is explaining the Air Nomad Traditions to the air acolytes, he ends up saying "That's just how it's done." and it triggers Toph's past childhood trauma growing up secluded and misunderstood by emotionally neglectful parents. I actually really enjoy that we're exploring Toph's past and her own traumatic experiences; it makes her a more compelling, relatable and human character and gives her personality a lot more depth.

However, it's what comes next that infuriates me to my core (and the reason why I wanted to write this monstrosity of an analysis). Toph becomes arrogant, rude, insensitive and disrespectful to Aang and to his culture.

It's just odd we never explore this trauma beyond this. The trauma that Toph has, while interesting and a great set-up for some internal character work, it's utilized solely to progress the conflict (and once it's resolved, Toph's inner struggles are abandoned). And it's odd that this traumatic event in her childhood is the setup for her sudden and spontaneous love for the future and her avoidance of her past.

It's even odder when you remember that in the original series, Toph never wanted to flee her past. She loved her parents and felt remorse for leaving them. She just wanted them to understand that she was a capable fighter and see her beyond her blindness.

For you to understand my disappointment in this particular characterization, we first have to analyze Toph during ATLA. Throughout the two seasons where she is present, Toph had never once disrespected Aang's culture or his spirituality. On the contrary, she seemed amazed with the Western Air Temple the moment she sensed it's architecture beneath the cliffs: "Wow ... it's amazing!"

Aang reassured her that friendships carry on throughout lifetimes (and it comforts her);

When he's meditating, she's the only one remaining quiet:

Season 3, Episode 6: The Avatar and The Fire Lord

Katara: Do they have bathrooms in the Spirit World?

Sokka: As a matter of fact, they do not.

She's always showed nothing but respect for Aang, his culture and his duties as the Avatar and last airbender, yet, now, for some reason she is characterized in such an unflattering and antagonistic light. And it's crazy to me that Toph is suddenly someone who resents the past and is all about the future... since when has this been one of her defining character traits?

It just... keeps going... And it's so sad to see. This just makes Toph so unlikeable and this just isn't the same Toph we got to see in the animated series. And it what world would Toph Beifong choose a random dude she just met over her friends, especially her FIRST FRIEND (Aang)?

AND NOW SHE IS LYING TO PROTECT THIS RANDO BECAUSE HE ADMIRES HER?

In what world would Toph do this? And don't tell me this is because Toph is enamored with Satoru. Toph, canonically had a crush on Sokka, yet she never did anything stupid nor disrespectful for Sokka; she never compromised her morals or beliefs to protect Sokka.

And I cannot fathom Toph being this unbothered by the pollution. True, she was never a big environmentalist in the main series; however, I would like to believe that Toph would advocate for the protection of her element, especially given she is so in tune with nature: Badgermoles taught her how to bend, she sees through earth, her element is centered around nature... I just can't rationalize Toph being this indifferent to the lack of care for the environment.

Sigh... Here's a little montage of Aang's ability to maintain inner peace:

Season Two, Episode Eight 'The Chase': Aang lashing out on Toph despite Toph being the only one to justify how Azula, Ty Lee and Mai kept finding them.

Season Two, Episode Eleven 'The Desert': Yelling at Toph and blaming her for Appa's kidnapping, despite Toph being unable to see nor protect Appa, because she was protecting her friends.

Season Three, Episode One 'The Awakening': Aang being so frustrated that the world thinks he's dead that he flies away at sea, during a storm.

Season Three, Episode Seventeen 'The Ember Island Players': Literally get's so infuriated with an unreal depiction of his relationship with Katara that he forcibly kisses her, because immaturely possessive and quote: 'Overreacting? If I hadn't blocked my chakra, I'd probably be in the Avatar State right now!?

'The Promise' - Part One: After Katara is held by Zuko and he enters the Avatar State.

Yes, Aang sure is in tune with his inner peace.

It's also hilarious that they really think Toph is the one provoking the earthquakes when she's the best earthbender alive and is more in tune with her bending then any other bender there. I mean, I get it we have to shove the "everyone loves and defends Aang" but not even Sokka came to Toph's defense? Katara?

Another thing that really rubs me the wrong way is that Toph was literally pushed into Aang's life because she "waits and listens" - yet, here, Toph is anything but patient. She's explosive and reactive. During ATLA, whenever she fights, she always has a moment afterwards where she listens to the other person. The best examples are with Katara in 'The Runaway'. She's actually considerably patient if you actually analyze her character throughout the series and isn't as hotheaded as she's portrayed here.

Not everything in this first part is horrendous. I do enjoy that we get confirmation (that unlike a certain canon couple) Aang and Toph are able to have their squabbles and then talk things out to understand one another's perspective.

We also get to see them work together despite being at odds. And, just like in the animated series, they work in really great harmony and comprehend the other without saying many words. I really enjoy that we get to see them put their differences and disagreements aside and work like a unite when it's called for. That is something that I really enjoy about Taang and their dynamic.

We also get a lot of cute panels with Toph and Aang - and man they are a really good looking couple. In a later analysis, I'll get more into depth on their relationship in this comic (and her relationship with her friends), but for this initial part it wasn't too badly butchered.

And's that's it for the first part of this analysis.

[cerebraldischarge]

I needed to get out of bed. Not to do anything urgent or important, but spending my last two months in bed is absolutely not what I wanted, that’s kinda the point of skipping the sickness-and-aging bit.

I noticed that there was a cemetery on the route of the bus that takes me into the center, but it was in the other direction, so I decided to ride in the usual - in this case, “wrong” - direction first, until I could find some ice cream. With some difficulty and a bit of a detour, I located some delicious ice cream - ginger flavored, which I never had before. Having finished the treat and placed some stickers in strategically crowded places - while also trying to act like something of a moving billboard, with a positive message on my shirt, but probably failing because I’m so dang short -, I found the cemetery and started to explore. For about 90 minutes, I meandered to and fro, always following whatever looked interesting - and trying not to lose track of where the gate was, because I wasn’t planning on being locked in again.

At first, it was a pretty generic experience. A lot of Jesus stuff, a lot of gooey love quotes, vivid and gorgeous flowers, and an extraordinary abundance of ivy - I think more than I’ve ever encountered. Some crows said hi, too. A few pictures were taken. One headstone was covered in glitter hearts. One made me audibly squeak because it featured a shiny statue of a modern cruise missile. Fitting for a retired Lt. Colonel, I admitted, but still pretty cool.

I did the usual two things I do in cemeteries simply because my grandmother sternly warned me not to - take a drink of water, and steal something small. I also stumbled over a broken, overgrown, unmaintained headstone and would’ve fallen if I didn’t grab another, sturdier one. Of course, this was the moment when a trio of teenagers walked by. Luckily, I’m old enough not to care. Have your giggle on my behalf, boys.

And then I found that part. You know, the section where each one looks exactly bleedin’ identical. That’s how I recognized it, having been partially distracted by a tree. This made me pause. Because hang on a pea picking minute - how does such a staunch individualist get envious at this? How does such a chaotic entity develop almost a love affair with a people and a culture where order is everything and spend years being ashamed of not meeting its standards?

I’m a walking paradox. Looks like I need to lay that eighteen-year-old to rest first, before I can do it too.

Things I do because I was told not to, at some point.

Cut. I mean, I do enjoy it, but I probably would’ve forgotten about it just like any teenage pastime, if not for the absolute insistence from all the adults that it’s somehow wrong.

Eat meat. Obnoxious vegan friend in freshman year, ‘nough said.

Wear pants. “Not ladylike”, apparently.

Cut my hair short. Same reason. There should probably be a separate list for this one.

Pick up bones and stuff from the ground. Parents and germs, you know how it is.

Talk about death like it’s a normal thing. Because it is! What could be more normal than something that happens to literally everybody?

Talk about so-called triggering things. I realize I would have more friends if I didn’t do this, but for me, some of these are sources of joy, and sometimes teasing people is a source of joy in itself.

Eat the lemon from the cocktail. Sorry, scurvy is more important than manners.

[jackievernonthompson]

How to pick something up in a ladylike manner?

How to pick something up in a ladylike manner?Always walk to the side of the item, close your feet, lock your knees, go down gracefully by bending the knees .There is a certain manner and approach that one should follow while practicing all these daily habits. Get in touch with us to learn more interesting values.

[thoushallnotfall]

No Good

Masterlist

Pairing: Ace Merrill x Chambers!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Notes: I’ve been sick lately, so you know ya girls been binging all her favorite comfort movies. Every time I watch Stand By Me I think to myself ‘I need to write for Ace; the love of my life.’ And now here we are.

This uh...this got kind of heavy for a minute there. It's angsty that's for sure, but I mean we get some good fluff at the end? So...yay?

Let me know if you’re interested in any more Ace fics! ❤️

Warnings: Mentions of abuse

"That’s enough Ace!” You yell as you run across the street. “Let him go!”

Ace Merrill, local gang leader and world-class jerk, was currently pinning your little brother to the ground.

“Aw, how sweet--is big sister here to rescue you?” Ace taunts your brother as he holds a lit cigarette up to his face.

“Beat it y/n; this is none of your business.” Richie, your older brother, says as you approach.

“Of course it's my business when your friend is threatening our little brother!" You snap. "Now get off him Ace! I'm not kidding around here." You warn, looking down at the blonde. He smirks.

"Oh yeah?” He says, standing up to look you in the eyes. “You gonna do something about it sweetheart?" You stare him down as Chris, now free, jumps up and goes to stand by his friend Gordie. Ace smirks as you glare at him, and you roll your eyes as you turn to your brother, checking him over for any injuries.

"You okay?" You ask, hand going up to push back the wisps of hair on his forehead as you look over his face for any cuts or burns. He quickly pushes your hand away.

"I'm fine y/n, stop fussing." Chris says, though there isn’t much fight in it. You sigh as you look down at him, looking far more mature and world-weary than any 12 year old should. Your concern for you brother ebbed, it was quickly replaced with a tide of anger. You put your hands on your hips as you turn to Ace and Ritchie.

“Uh oh Eyeball--I think she’s mad at us.” Ace jokes as Ritchie laughs. You scowl.

“What’s wrong with the two of you, huh? Do you get off on picking on a couple kids that can’t fight back or what?” You ask as you scowl at them.

“Listen Y/N, my friend here was only politely askin’ Chris to take back an insult he so rudely threw Ace's way. That’s all.” Richie replied, smirking as he places his arm on Ace’s shoulder.

“You know you should really teach that brother of yours some manners y/n.” Ace adds with a smirk.

“That’s bullshit!” Chris says behind you, and you turned to look at him. “I called him an asshole because he stole Gordie’s hat!” You turn back around and see the hat in question, now sitting on top of Ritchie’s curly head. “Gordie’s brother gave him that hat! They can't have it!” Chris adds, and your frown deepens. Everyone knew what happened to Dennis Lachance; that hat probably meant a lot to his little brother.

“Eyeball, did you see me steal anything?” Ace asks Richie with a smirk.

“No way Ace--the kid gave it to you.” Ritchie responds.

“That’s a lie!” Gordie yells as he stares daggers at Ace.

“This is ridiculous; just give the hat back Ritchie.” You say as you move to take the hat off your bother’s head. Ace snatches it before you have the chance.

“Now hold on a minute,” Ace says as he holds the hat up just above your reach. “The kid gave me this hat--it’s mine, fair and square.”

“Stop fooling around and just give me the hat Ace.” You say as you jump up to snatch it from his hand. He moves it away from you at the last second as he smiles. He leans forward, invading your space.

“What’ll you give me for it?” He asks, looking you over with his icy blue eyes. You glare back at him.

“You know damn well I don’t have anything to give you.” You say, annoyed beyond the point of caring about manners.

“Oh--hardly ladylike of you y/n, cursing at me like that.” Ace replies sarcastically.

“Shut up and just tell me what you want.” You shoot back. He laughs.

“Feisty as always I see.” He smiles. “I like that.” He holds the hat out to you. “Go out with me tonight and you can have it.” The two of you stare each other down, while Ritchie looks over at his friend in surprise.

“Hey come on Ace--that’s gross man, she’s my sister!" Ritchie says, looking horrified at the idea.

“Don’t do it y/n--who knows what he’ll do to you.” Chris pleads behind you. You and Ace ignore them as you glare at him and he stares back with a crooked grin on his face.

“Fine.” You agree.

“Y/N!” Chris exclaims in shock. Ace's smile widens with satisfaction.

“But you give Gordie his hat back now.” You add.

“If I give the kid the hat now, how will I know you’ll hold up your end of the deal?” Ace asks.

���Unlike some people, I’m not a liar.” You say. He stares back at you, before laughing.

“Alright, deal.” He says, offering you the hat which you quickly grab from his hand. “I’ll pick you up at 8.” He says as he turns to walk away; Ritchie looking between you and Ace before he runs off to join his friend.

You glare at their retreating backs until they turn the corner. You turn to Chris and Gordie, both of them looking at you mournfully. You smile at them, offering the hat to Gordie.

“Here, I think this is yours.” He looks down as he takes the hat from you.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He says as he hugs the hat close to his chest.

“You know usually, when someone does something nice for you, you thank them.” You say, smiling as you lightly ruffle his hair.

“R-right. Sorry--I mean, thank you.” He says, putting the hat back on his head with a small smile.

“What were you thinking y/n?” Chris cuts in, clearly upset. “You know what that asshole could do to you?” He asks, looking at you with concern. You just smile back.

“You don’t have to try and protect me Chris--I’m the big sister, remember?” You remind him. “Listen, don’t worry about Ace; I can handle him.”

“But--!” He tries to argue.

“That’s enough now.” You cut him off. “I’m a Chambers--we’re made of tougher stuff, right?” He sighs, looking at the ground.

“Yeah.” He agrees, before lifting his head. “Just promise me you’ll be careful.” You laugh.

“I promise.” You say. “Now, it looks like you two have somewhere to be.” You say, eyeing their sleeping bags. “Go have fun, and don’t worry so much.”

You watch them leave as Chris waves back at you. You return the wave, watching them until they were out of sight. The boys no longer visible, you let out a long sigh.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wondering just exactly what you’d gotten yourself into, before turning on your heels and heading for home.

It was all well and good to say you that you’d be fine--it was another thing entirely to actually back that up. You'd know Ace for a long time, and while you didn't think he would do anything to you, there was always that lingering chance you were wrong.

--

That evening you lie to your parents and say you’re going with a friend to the movies, before leaving to wait a little ways down the road. You didn’t even want to think about what your dad would do if he found out you were going out with a boy--especially one like Ace.

While you're thinking about the potential consequences of getting caught in a lie while also being out with a boy, the boy in question pulls up next to you on the street. Surprisingly, he's on time.

“So excited you couldn’t even wait inside, huh y/n?” He asks with a smile. You roll your eyes.

“Cute.” You reply sarcastically as you get in the passengers seat. “You know my dad; he would kill us both if he saw me leaving with you.”

“He could try.” Ace jokes, though you had a feeling it was said more genuinely than he let on.

“Let’s just go before anyone sees us.” You reply.

“Yes ma’am.” He says, driving off into the night.

--

Neither of you say much on your way to the diner. Your thoughts drifted between how much trouble you’d be in if Ace didn't get you back at a decent time, and thoughts of Ace himself. You’d know him for a long time--before he was Ace. Back then he was just John; the troubled kid from school your brother palled around with.

You were younger than Chris is now when you'd first met him. You were shy as a child, and you didn't understand why people treated you differently. Now you know of course--everyone knew the Chambers were a bad family. So there's no way your deadbeat dad could raise anything but deadbeat kids. The three of you were bad seeds going nowhere fast. As far as Castle Rock was concerned, you were all no good.

Since good mothers didn't like their kids hanging around with anyone from the Chambers family, you never did have many friends growing up. Instead, you followed Ritchie around like a duckling; despite his constant complaints about it.

And that's how you met Ace. He and your brother constantly picked on you or would leave you behind when they ran off to play, but you didn't care. You would take anything over being alone. And sometimes, in those rare moments when you and Ace were left alone together, you saw a different side of him. When he wasn't trying to act out for his friends, when he wasn't showing off or acting tough. He was almost vulnerable then, a bit unsure of himself, and more than anything you remember how sometimes, he could even be kind.

The moments were always so few and far between that every time it surprised you; that he could be nice to someone, and that the someone was always you. You wondered sometimes if anyone else had ever seen that side of him, or if those fleeting moments of sweetness were reserved just for you.

Now more than ever you wondered if that side of him was still buried somewhere inside him, or if he'd let it die along with his name--strangled down deep in the darkness of his heart.

--

You pull into the diner, the lights from it's neon sign washing the parking lot in a soft, red glow. Ace parks his convertible and a carhop quickly comes out to take your orders before hurrying back inside. Ace pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from the top pocket of his shirt as you turn to him.

"Okay, what's your game?" You ask point blank.

"What do you mean?" He asks back, pulling a cigarette from the pack and placing it lightly between his lips before putting the pack away. He lights it, quickly snapping the lighter shut as he takes a long drag.

"I mean, what are you trying to accomplish from all this?" You throw your arms out to vaguely gesturing around you. "Because if you think you'll be getting anything from me tonight you've got another thing coming." Ace throws his head back as he laughs, the cigarette glowing faintly between his fingers.

"I'm serious--I know you Ace Merrill, and I know when you're going with a girl you're only after one thing." You say as you look over at his profile. He takes another puff from his cigarette, slowly blowing out a cloud of smoke. He smiles at you as he ashes over the side of the car.

"Well damn, it sounds like you got me all figured out sweetheart." He says, smirking as he turns his head to look at you. "And yet you still agreed to come out with me tonight, so what do you know about that?" You scowl.

"I was coerced and you know it! Like I'd willingly agree to go out with you." You huff, crossing your arms as you slide down in your seat.

"Ouch--that's not a very nice thing to say y/n." He says sarcastically, still smiling.

"As if you have any room to talk." You snap back. "You're a jerk to everyone you meet."

"Funny, I don't recall ever being a jerk to you." He responds. You open your mouth to argue, then stop.

When was the last time he'd actually been mean to you? Had he ever, really? Sure, there was his general abrasive attitude and his sarcastic jokes--but had he ever, genuinely said something meant to hurt you?

"See, you can't think of anything. Admit it, I have always been good to you." He says, a triumph grin on his face.

"Good might be an exaggeration--and anyway that hardly matters. You not being a total jerk to one person doesn't change the fact that you're a bully to everyone else." You counter, sitting up as you speak. "I mean, just look at how you were treating my brother today!"

"Listen, the kid's gotta learn sometime how harsh life is; I'm doing him a favor teaching him how the world works." He says, flicking the butt of his cigarette out into the parking lot.

"A favor?" You repeat. "All you're doing is making life harder for a good kid who already has it hard enough." You slump back down as you sigh, looking down at the dashboard. "Trust me, he doesn't need a lesson about how hard life can be." You say more to yourself than to him.

Ace eyes you from the driver's seat, but before he can say anything the food arrives and the moment passes.

You eat your burgers and fries, talking about nothing in particular. Ace is his usual, rough self, but you grow a little more comfortable as you talk. Mostly you bicker back and forth, the whole conversation one small argument after another. Still, it wasn't an uncomfortable atmosphere to be in.

You talked to Ace less now than you did as kids, but you fell back into step like you still spent everyday together. His usual goading and pestering, and in return your typical annoyed response. Maybe you seemed like you weren't enjoying the conversation, but in truth you didn't mind. If anything, as much as you would hate to admit it, you almost missed talking to him like this. Not worrying about his gang or your brother or whatever anyone else thought about it.

Just two old friends talking like they'd never lost touch in the first place--though you'd sooner swallow your own tongue than say any of that to his face.

--

After you finished eating Ace told you he wanted to take you somewhere. You were a little worried about the time--or where in God's name he was planning on taking you--but it's not like you really had a say in the matter. Ace pulled out of the diner and headed out of town without a word of input from you. He soon turned on a country road that started to go up, and before you knew it you were parked on a cliff side out in the wilderness. From your spot above the world, you could see the lights of Castle Rock surrounded by a blanket of darkness.

You scowl over at Ace.

"Are you serious? I told you--"

"Just shut up and get out of the car, would ya?" He says, jumping out the side of the convertible. He moves around and grabs a small metal cooler from the floorboards behind the driver's seat. You watch him suspiciously as he heads to the front of the car, getting up to sit on the hood.

"You coming or what?" He asks, looking back at you as he sets the cooler down.

"Fine--but you better not try anything funny." You warn, getting out of the car. You hop up on top of the hood, cautiously sliding up to the back. You pull your knees up and wrapping your skirt around your legs, hugging them to your chest.

"Relax already. If I was gonna try something I would've done it in the car." He tells you as he opens the ice chest to grab a beer. He pulls out a Swiss Army knife and opens it up, using the bottle opener to pop the top off the bottle. He offers it to you, and--after a moment of contemplation--you slowly take it. He quickly works on getting himself one as you take a sip.

He takes a swig of his beer as he looked out over the scenery in front of you. It was a nice view. The two of you sat for awhile, just silently enjoying the scenery while you drank.

"Nice view, huh?" He says absently after a long while.

"Yeah, it is."

"Reminds me just how small this town really is." He takes another drink from his beer as he talks. "Can you picture being somewhere like New York City? You could go all the way up in the tallest skyscraper they got and look out, and you would still never see the end of it. Can you imagine living somewhere that big? Where no one knows you?" He asks.

"No, I can't." You answer honestly.

"There's trains that can take you further and faster than any car, boats that can take you around the world, and now they got planes that can fly you through the sky." He takes another drink. "All that, and I'm still gonna die in this shit town." He says, looking out over the lights of Castle Rock with contempt. You look over at him, staring quietly at his handsome face. You knew what he meant, how he felt. You felt it too.

"You don't have to. You could leave, go someplace else. Somewhere new." You say. He laughs through his nose.

"Yeah, go where?" He asks.

"Anywhere." You reply. He smiles, though there's no humor in it.

"Let's be real y/n; some people just weren't meant to leave." He finishes his beer as he smirks. "We both know the only way I'm getting out is behind six feet of concrete or laying six feet under--whichever comes first." He throws his bottle hard, and it disappears over the side of the rocks down into the trees.

You had never heard him be so introspective before. Then again, you felt similar. You were sure a lot of kids from Castle Rock did, but none of you talked about it so openly like this.

"Things don't have to be that way." You say quietly. "You could change--try to be better." He laughs.

"Yeah, sure. I'll get right on that." He replies sarcastically.

"You could!" You say with more force. "I have!" You say, turning away. "I mean, I'm trying." You say, sighing. You take a long, full drink of your beer, tossing the bottle out into the darkness.

"You think I want to be stuck here forever? Just to end up like my mom? Married to some piece of shit who beats me when he's angry, and he's always angry." You start to tear up, but you keep going; your eyes looking down at you knees. "Too afraid to leave, too afraid to stop him from taking it out on our kids. Always afraid, always hurting--miserable until the day I die. And then I still won't escape because they'll bury me in the dirt of this town where I'll be trapped forever, and a tombstone will be all that's left of me. The only reminder that I lived and died here--and for what?"

There were tears running down your face, which you quickly whipped away with the back of your sleeve. You looked back over at him, his face was a mask, hiding any hint of emotion.

"I refuse to let this place swallow me whole. I don't care what they say about my family--I'm going to be better. I'll get out of here even if it kills me, and then no one will tell me I'm no good ever again." You say with more resolve. He looks over at you for a long, quite moment, then cracks a smile.

"Listen, you point me to the assholes telling you that, and we'll just see how good they are at name-calling when they've got broken jaws." He jokes. You can't help but laugh in spite of yourself.

"You see? That's the kind of thing that's gonna get you in trouble." You reply, smiling over at him. He shrugs.

"What can I say? A tiger can't change his stripes."

"Tigers are still just cats you know. Yeah, they're big, but they're only fierce when they need to be. And just like house cats, they can also be sweet." He laughed at that.

"Yeah, just imagine me--sweet."

"You could be, if you tried." You say, smiling at him.

"Oh really? But I thought I was a jerk? Or was it a bully?." He says as he smiles over at you. You playfully punch his arm as he laughs.

"You are a jerk and a bully." You reply. "But I also know you can be nice if you really wanna be."

"Oh yeah? That's something you know, huh?" He says, leaning in a little. "And who exactly do I got to be nice to?"

"Well, you could try being nice to me." You answer.

"So, how exactly would you like me to be nice to you?" He asks, looking at you with a playful smirk.

"You could start by laying off my little brother and his friends." You say sweetly. He throws his head back as he laughs.

"Oh is that all?" He asks, looking back down at you. "And what exactly do I get if I do?"

"You're not supposed to expect a reward for being nice." You tell him. "But," You pause as you lean a little closer. "If you're nice to me, maybe I'll be nice to you." He smiles, his eyes glancing down to your lips.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?" He asks.

"Mhmm." You smile.

"You drive a hard bargain sweetheart, but," He leans forward. "You got yourself a deal."

You smile and close your eyes as you feel his lips meet yours. His hand moves up to cup your cheek as he deepens the kiss. Your heart was pounding like a drum in your chest and for a few, sweet moments, everything else disappeared. It was just you and Ace--no Castle Rock, no worries about the future, just the two of you together. Strange how a kiss with the right person can make you see stars, when all you saw before was the darkness.

You pull back and look at him.

"I mean it about the kids though--we're over if I find out after all this that you've still been giving them a hard time." You say. He rolls his eyes.

"Yeah I get it, I promise--now quit harping and come here." He said, pulling you to his chest as he leaned down to kiss you again.

You weren't sure what the future would look like for you or Ace; but you knew right here, right now, this is exactly where you wanted to be.

[fitzrove]

Hi, it's me again. Did the show do anything different in terms of Elisabeth's "character"? I loved those details for La Mort but it also feels like people aren't great at a balance between them and Elisabeth.

I fully admit that Elisabeth isn't my favourite character, and hence I haven't deep-dived into her characterisation in different productions the same way I have into Der Tod/La Mort, so I'll be much less eloquent when describing her. However, I really liked how they approached her character!

First of all, you should know that Bruxellons (a small production with no understudies for anyone) ran into some trouble right before the premiere, because Marie-Pierre de Brienne (principal Elisabeth who had rehearsed the role and already played it in the previews) couldn’t perform. They had to cancel three shows (incl. the original premiere) and were desperately looking for someone who could cover the role on extremely short notice. Enter Romina Palmeri, who agreed to do it on a Sunday night, had to fly in from another country, first rehearsed with the rest of the cast on Wednesday and was on stage for the premiere on Thursday. So four days of preparation in total. I was there at the premiere and she knocked it out of the park - you seriously couldn’t tell she came in on short notice.

I only got to see Romina’s performance, so this writeup will be based on her acting choices - don’t know if it was different with Marie-Pierre, who was fortunately able to return to the role after a week or so. (However, as the show’s run was extended because of the cancellations and MPdB wasn’t available for the new dates, Romina got to play the role again for the last few weeks of the show’s run, including the derniere.)

Elisabeth at Bruxellons

To me, what most characterises Elisabeth in this production is that she has some rebellious, strong-willed and spirited teenager energy throughout. She’s so lively and sweet at the beginning - in Wie Du, Max gives her a book as a parting gift, and she’s extremely excited about it; in Bad Ischl there’s a really funny moment where she slumps down on a chair without much care for ladylike manners and Ludovika struggles to get her (Sisi’s) hoop skirt to settle properly, it keeps flipping up.

At the risk of this turning into a Brussels Franz Josef appreciation post: god, he’s the best FJ to ever FJ. First time I’ve ever cared so deeply about the character. He’s perpetually anxious and conflicted over his duties and his wish to be gentle and good, and the reason he picks Sisi, to me, seems to be that it’s his one act of choosing his own happiness (acting according to his secret wish to be a compassionate free spirit) over the pressure he faces from his mother and the court around him, his one attempt at escaping the stifling social order he’s been raised to navigate within. Sisi seems to see this and Nichts ist schwer is so good because of it - they genuinely care for each other on a deeper level than “love at first sight”. FJ is so shy when he first takes Sisi’s hand and Sisi is happy to encourage him, and most of Nichts ist schwer has them stand together in a world of their own, happy. She loves him and thinks they can really make it work!!

And then it’s interrupted by Alle Fragen. Elisabeth seems a bit frightened by the ceremonial procession around her - well, I guess anyone would be with that organ music - and both her and FJ are equally anxious at being gawked at from all sides. When they stand together and family members come to congratulate them a few interesting things happen: Max reaches out to take Sisi's hand in his own and say something to her (maybe to plead with her or to offer words of encouragement) but Ludovika slaps it away; Sisi frightenedly reaches out to Helene but she (clearly bitter about Bad Ischl) recoils and bows to her with a cold smile instead, making it really clear that she's empress now and it makes her isolated. She seems devastated by this. So, along these lines, it really makes FJ’s refusal to side with her after/during Eine Kaiserin muss glänzen - even though he really wants to be free, but seeing the realities of the world around him, he feels like he can’t - feel like an even stronger betrayal.

Ich gehör nur mir has her take on a somewhat colder, more contemptuous and cynical attitude. It’s maybe even the beginning of her starting to harden herself to the world around her to survive. Of course, she’s still sweet and triumphant - but the way she turns her back at the audience and stares contemptuously at the giant anchor at the side of the stage (the only major, fixed setpiece) for the duration of the instrumental verse is very poignant. She’s turning her back on the power of the empire and choosing herself.

In Spiegel, she’s downright cold to Rudolf. She enters the stage only at the end of the song - Rudolf is too anxious about speaking to her to even approach her directly, he’s singing the song all alone and Elisabeth only walks in right before her lines happen, in her nightgown, reading a book. The line in the translation is “What are you doing here? What is it? You’re bothering me”. She doesn’t really struggle to make a choice between staying completely independent and helping Rudolf, just walks off after dismissing him. Of course, this makes Totenklage even more devastating - she’s very distraught - especially because the actor playing small Rudolf stands to the back of the stage during the number, listening to her, dressed in the veil of the dead.

Schleier fällt: She’s very happy about it, no undercurrent of sadness. She even jumps into La Mort’s arms when he picks her up.

Uhhh... what else? I feel like this will be a bit disappointing. Romina Palmeri is my favourite Elisabeth among all of the different productions for sure, but I still don’t have very deep analysis to give out :’D Mostly I think she’s really pretty and her acting is so good/the choices so interesting that for the first time I actually care about the character and her journey adhajdkjhaj (I’ve been known to skip Elisabeth’s songs, especially nichts nichts gar nichts, while watching bootlegs. Here I wasn’t the least bit bored, which is high praise!)

I actually recommend asking @szabadmadar about Sisi, they’re more well-versed in the character :D (Hope it’s okay to tag you!)

[bela--dimitrescu]

"Oh my. I hope you don't really think turning Daniela's head around is an achievement," Bela said with a chuckle. "She falls in love five times a day." She picked up her wine glass from the table next to her and took a sip. "Still, be nice to her or you will regret it." No matter how annoying her youngest sister sometimes got Bela was still protective of her, especially because Daniela was too naive in her opinion.

"Do not expect any graditute from me. You have to earn it." She leaned back in her seat, crossing her legs in a graceful, ladylike manner. It was clear that manners and appearances had been ingrained in her, prim and proper as always. "All I have seen you doing is bark but I haven't seen you bite yet. Get off your high horse, Leon." The blone replied, taking another sip of her wine. "House Dimitrescu will not fall. I'm not worrying at all. We can easily deal with some stupid men, as we have done since decades." Bela rolled her eyes, she couldn't stand men that were full of themselves, actually, she couldn't stand men in general. Unfortunately, she had to tolerate this one. "Why don't you go out and hunt this Redfield down. Do something useful."

"just be honest with me...do you hate me?" - leon

Bela raised an eyebrow at him. "Hate you? No. Do I like you? Also no. I'd have to say I'm indifferent. I haven't known you long enough to form a personal opinion of you." The eldest Dimitrescu daughter replied matter of fact. "Disappointed not all women swoon over you right away?"

[anyoneseenadam]

The Moon Spirit - One

Dorian x reader (throne of glass) (future fenrys x reader)

Description: When you’re taught to be a queen from such a young age, nothing could go wrong. But when the king starts to fear your growing power you find yourself thrust into a world of faeries, evil magic and powerful men, learning to stand on your own can be harder than it seems.

warnings: blood, graphic descriptions of violence, objectification, gross old men, Dorian is a ball of love and niceness however, angst, fluff, possibly smut in later chapters

word count: 4.5k

a/n: ahhhhh I’m finally writing this!! This has been in my head for so long now so I’m so glad I’m finally getting it down and I’m really excited to develop it further and possibly go into some poly!dorianxfenrysxreader but that shall all be revealed soon lmao, pls comment and let me know your opinions and theories and shiz it always makes my day!!!

—————————————————————————-

“Wake up.” You felt insistent tapping on your forearm, groaning as you shook it off, turning onto your side and burrowing deeper into your soft duvet. “C’mon wake up princess,” your brain barely registered Dorian’s whining as you groaned in return, throwing and arm out behind you and batting at his firm chest.

“Go away.” You moaned as you felt a firm body land on top off yours. Dorian pressed his face in between your shoulder blades as his arms wormed their way beneath your stomach, warm fingertips massaging the skin of your belly as you cracked open an eye, albeit reluctantly.

“I have to say all those lessons in ladylike manners sure paid off.” You heard Chaol’s sarcastic voice and turned your head just enough to glare at him as well as he sat comfortably on the armchair next to your fireplace.

“I also have lots of lessons in stabbing rude boys, shall I demonstrate those,” you grumbled, flipping him off before shaking your clingy boyfriend away, sitting up in bed and glaring at both of them as they laughed at your disgruntled expression. “What do you want and why are you waking me up?”

“Well, my love,” Dorian moved behind you to gently start brushing your hair as you hummed in delight at the attention, both of you ignoring Chaol’s eye roll, “It is your birthday isn’t it?”

“So you choose to torment me?” you asked as Dorian stood again, smiling at you boyishly as he moved around your room, tidying away clothes.

“Well seventeen is a big one,” he wiggled his eyebrows at you and Chaol moved to translate as you stood and made your way to your bathroom where a bath had already been run for you, the hot water smelling of expensive soaps and salts.

“We have to make appearances today, and there’s a ball tonight.” Your shoulders slumped as you realised what your day entailed.

“Appearances?” you gave your friend a pleading look, but he just shrugged his shoulders sympathetically.

“Carriage through the city, the whole point in the public seeing you so much is to dampen any threat of revolution and they haven’t seen the two of you together recently. Your birthday is as good a time as any.” The older boy explained as your dark-haired prince moved closer to you, wrapping his arms tightly around you and kissing your head.

“I know it sucks princess, but if we make the rounds this morning, we’ll have all afternoon to ourselves before the ball.”

“I don’t like being a show pony.” You grumbled as the familiar frustration prickled behind your eyes, tears forming on what was supposed to be a happy day for you.

Chaol and Dorian averted their gazes at your words, both feeling a deep sense of guilt over something they truly couldn’t control. You had spoken of this before, only in confidence to them; Dorian the love of your life and Chaol alike a brother to you, you had told them how you felt like a toy, a shiny thing for the king to display, waved around in front of the public until you were drained, and they were putting artificial colour onto your face. You had once described it as being alike a corpse in makeup, dragged around for others entertainment as you slowly rotted and decayed until you were unrecognisable.

“I’ll be there the entire time my love, when it gets too much I’ll drag the attention away from you okay?” you nodded as he stroked your arm reassuringly.

“I love you,” you said to him as you leaned up to kiss him gently.

“I love you too baby, happy birthday.”

Chaol walked past as he left the room so you could clean, ruffling your hair as he passed. “Maybe next year you’ll grow,” he mocked, narrowly missing your smack as the three of you laughed.

“Clean up, we’ll be waiting when you’re ready,” Dorian pressed another kiss to your head before he was dragged out of the room, his grin easy as you waved him away.

--

You washed quickly without the help of the maids that usually surrounded you. You presumed that was a birthday present from Dorian as he knew how much you despised the bustling groups of women that would preen over your every feature.

You spent half the bath scrubbing off layers of dead skin and the other massaging your hair until it had no option but to shine in the morning light. Cleaning your face and dragging a razor over any visible body hair as you repeated the rules you were taught in your head.

1.      Never look anything less than perfect. A queen must look put together.

2.      Always stand straight.

3.      Never smile with your teeth.

4.      Wave to children only, adults get a polite head bow.

5.      Speak once spoken too and only if given permission from the Crown prince…

The list went on for what seemed like hours and at one point you had it written down and pinned on your wall next to your mirror, reading it every day. The first four years you had spent under the king’s care were the same. Lessons followed by more lessons, restrictive diets, and waist training. They broke you down and remodelled you into the perfect queen, and throughout those lonely years you never once saw Dorian, excluding the first time you met as children.

Only when you were twelve did you see him again, and from then on you did everything together. When he sword trained you practiced ballet, when he read, you read, when he ate, you ate. You became one person, never doing something without the other, Chaol turning your duo into a trio soon after.

When you turned fourteen he kissed you. You both knew you were to be married one day, but one snowy day he had pulled you aside and kissed you quickly, face as red as the roses your mother used to grow every summer. He had asked you to be his girlfriend, speaking so quickly you barely heard him as you held in laughs at your usually so composed prince. You had nodded in response and he kissed you again, holding your hand tightly as the two of you escaped the castle for the night, determined as he was to take you on a real date.

You dried quickly when you got out the bath, rubbing your favourite lavender scented hand cream into your hands and neck. You towelled your hair off and dressed quickly, mindful of the delicate necklace that always hung around your neck, the one that secured your place in the glass castle. Even if you didn’t know why.

Your dress was dusty blue with silver stitching, the king and queen liking when you and Dorian sticked to a theme. You thumbed some silver earrings in and adorned your wrists in similar dainty, silver bracelets, finally twisting your hair into a low bun and pinning away the loose strands, applying minimal makeup.

You heard a soft knock at the door before it pushed open, a familiar mop of dark hair appearing at an odd angle from behind the door. You smiled when you saw him, unable to escape the rush of feelings that appeared whenever he walked in a room, all easy smiles and suave manner.

He sauntered over to you with a cheeky smile, his hands hiding something behind his back.

“Maybe Chaol was right about the height thing,” he commented when he reached you, your similar heights long gone as you both grew into your bodies, the days of being young and without consequences gone.

You jabbed him in the rib jokingly, “It’s my birthday and all I’ve gotten so far is abuse.”

“Let me change that then,” he pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw, and you shut your eyes, revelling in the attention from your lover. He pulled away and revealed the flat box he was holding. “I know you can’t take your necklace off, but I thought this would go nicely with it,” he opened the box in your direction, and you looked down at a beautiful gold necklace with a circular pendant showing an opalescent crescent moon with three stars on the gold plating it rested on.

“Oh Dorian,” you whispered, picking the necklace up gently to admire it.

“Of course I have a million other presents waiting for you later, I have to treat my best girl,” he scrunched his face up in the way that always reminded you that he too was just a boy, despite his lessons. You loved these gentle moments when you both let your masks drop, and instead focused on the true love you shared, a lack of care for the way it was pushed. You instead focused on the luck that had given you a man you could truly love, through all the pain and harsh words, the world had given you someone to endure its hardships with, and for that you would remain grateful.

“Put it on for me?” you smiled at him, biting your lip gently as he turned you around, clasping the necklace that sat perfectly under your crystal behind you neck, his fingers soft and gentle as they trailed down the chain and settled between your collarbones, his touch almost wary of the stone as he moved to stand in front of you.

He seemed like he was about to say something but clearly decided against it, instead reaching to tug some strands of hair down to frame your face, twirling them in his long fingers.

“We’ll be fine today, it’s only an hour or two.” He said, his voice steady and sure, his courage coursing through you as he cupped your face lightly.

“We will be. We always are.” You moved away and sat to pull on your shoes as Dorian checked his sword was hanging safely from his side still before he picked up a light shawl, slinging it around your shoulder and linking arms with you.

“The city awaits my love,”

--

Chaol was escorting you through the courtyard when you were surrounded by a fleet of soldiers, exchanging a worried glance with Dorian.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, his arm tightening around you as he and Chaol both scanned the area.

“Yes your highness, however a rather dangerous prisoner is being taken to the king, so we are simply on high alert.” A guard you recognised said, Dorian frowned but you all continued onwards, only slowing when you passed an ever-larger group of guards. When you passed them you looked to the centre where a beautiful girl with a tear-stained face stood, being dragged along, her blonde hair matted with blood and dirt. She locked eyes with you, and you felt a pulse of power go through your body, her turquoise eyes widening for a second as time seemed to slow around you, a soft glow emitting from your neck. However before you could ponder it she was dragged away, and Dorian was asking you a question.

“Huh?” you asked quietly, mind occupied by the strange, beautiful girl.

“What do you think she did?” he asked, his grin cheeky.

“Maybe she steals princes hearts and eats them,” you joked, nudging his side even though your smile didn’t feel real, hiding your shaking hands behind the pleats of your skirt.

“Shame mine has already been stolen,” he flirted, and you laughed genuinely as he helped you into the carriage, pushing down the thoughts of the girl and the anxiety that surged through you as you prepared to plaster on a fake, placid smile.

“I haven’t eaten it yet though,” he laughed, joining you and squeezing your hand.

“Save it for dessert.”

--

The rest of your day passed slowly. Practiced waves and polite conversation taking up a majority of your morning as you tried to keep a pleasant facial expression when all you wanted was to curl up with your very cute boyfriend and sleep your birthday away.

You hated being put on display, the way you were shown off like a shiny toy and your hand was frequently finding Dorians, holding his tightly while you dug your nails into the palm of your other hand, the biting pain reminding you that you were in fact human.

By the end of the long, slow loop of Adarlan your shoulders were aching, and your mouth hurt from the still, soft expression you had kept it in. However you didn’t let your shoulders drop as you moved swiftly through the castle, Dorian by your side and Chaol a pace behind. Instead you only let your shoulders fall when you reached your room as you squealed, clapping your hands together and turning to Dorian with wide eyes when you saw the copious amounts of presents laid out for you.

“Dorian this is too much!” you exclaimed as you tackled him in a hug.

“Nothing is too much for you angel.” He muttered, kissing your head as you practically swooned in his arms.

“You read too much romance,” you said, ducking your head to hide your heated face.

“Plus a solid twenty percent are from me,” Chaol said, and you turned, hugging the tall man tightly too.

“Thank you!” you held your hands to your face, biting the tips of your thumbs like you used to as a child as Dorian led you to the seats where the presents were placed.

“I think this one needs to be opened first,” he said, a glint in his eyes that you couldn’t place as he passed you a large but light box. You opened the lid cautiously as Dorian exchanged excited looks with his brother. You were met by a ball of white fur, bright blue eyes blinking up at you and you gasped.  

You placed a hand over your heart as you reached into the box, picking up the kitten that was roughly the size of your hand and cooing gently as you stroked it, tears filling your eyes. You looked up at Dorian and he smiled at you as you pressed the furball into your chest, nuzzling its soft head.

“I found it abandoned on a street and had to take it home,” he explained, “He doesn’t have a name yet.”

You wiped away a tear that had escaped as they laughed at your emotional state, “Amaris,” you whispered, still choked up, “My little ball of light.”

You leaned into Dorian’s arm and kissed him gently in thanks, his head coming over your shoulder as you cooed at the small kitten that was pawing at your hand like new parents.

“As sweet as this is we’re going to be here for hours if you take this long on everything,” you stuck your tongue out at Chaol, placing Amaris in your lap as you were passed more presents. You ended up opening many presents for Amaris, Dorian sheepishly explaining that he got slightly carried away, countless books, dresses, hair pins and bags filled with sweets from all over the world.

By the time you were finished you all felt slightly sick from the taffy you had shared but the aches left from your smiles were real this time. Maids came in to clear away the wrapping paper and dishes Dorian had ordered up when he realised you hadn’t had any substantial food yet that day.

“I should go, we’ve got dinner then the ball in an hour and I can hear the maids outside,” Dorian said late that afternoon, his arms tight around you as you snoozed on his chest, Chaol having left to complete his duties for the day, not having the luxury to laze around like you and Dorian, and Amaris curled on Dorian’s chest next to your head.

“Do you have too?” you whined, and Dorian laughed,

“Yes, now c’mon. Wear the gold dress tonight,” he was referring to an intricate rose pink and gold dress he had bought you, currently hanging on the screen in your room, the matching tiara in a velvet case on your vanity. You looked over to it with heart eyes, wondering how you got so lucky before you sat up and Dorian marvelled at you, eyes puffy from your nap and lips parted and pouty. He reached up and stole a kiss, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before deepening the kiss with a hand on the back of your head. He pressed into your body, his tongue seeking out yours and you moaned softly into the kiss, his grin a promise of more to come later in the evening.

He pulled away too soon, leaving you breathless and left with a wink as you were surrounded by a sea of flustered maids, getting swept up in the lace and satin, the rush of the room silencing your mind for the time being.

--

You sat next to Dorian on a velvet seat, Dorian’s hand protectively resting on your knee as you spoke to the duke and duchess of some shit you didn’t care about. They were speaking about their fifth horse when you felt a sharp gaze on you and turned to see the king staring at you with his cold eyes, and for a second you felt that pulse of power again, the Duke cut off mid-sentence as the world slowed. You tore your eyes away quickly, clenching them shut as the image of the blonde girl came back into your head, Dorian gazing at you with worry as he excused the two of you.

“What happened?” he asked, leading you to dance as you forced yourself back into your practiced facial expression, the mask slipping on hiding your fear.

You placed a hand on his shoulder and leaned into his embrace, “I need to talk to you about something that happened today,” you whispered low enough for him to hear.

“Are you okay? Did someone do something?” he asked, grip tightening slightly as he led you in a waltz.

“Not quite, I’ll tell you when we can go somewhere more private.” You peered over his shoulder and met the kings’ eyes again, watching as he spoke lowly to Chaol who turned slightly pale before bowing and making his way over to you.

“May I but in,” he asked, and Dorian nodded, still watching you cautiously as he passed you to Chaol.

“The king wishes to speak to you after the ball, he says it’s the first thing you have to do.” He told you quietly and it took all your training to mask your fear.

“Did he say why?” you asked, taking a deep breath when he shook his head. “Okay, that’s fine. Thank you for letting me know.” You finished your dance with Chaol before carrying on with Dorian, occasionally having to entertain a noble who would breathe heavily in your ear for ten minutes before Dorian found an excuse to steal you back, giggling like the teenagers you were as you did.

When the ball ended and everyone began filing out, all wishing you a happy birthday and you and Dorian a happy future you felt the ball of anxiety that had been in your stomach all night grow, consuming your entire being and swallowing you whole.

“Are you sure you’re okay going alone?” Dorian asked for the fourth time and you faked a laugh to appease his nerves.

“He probably just wants to let me know of new duties now I’m older, I’ll not be long.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“But why won’t he let me or Chaol escort you,” he looked concerned, his trust in his father depleting as he grew older.

“Probably because you’ve both been drinking,” you squeezed his hand as his shoulders slumped, “I’ll be fine.”

“Come up to my room as soon as you’re done okay?” you smiled at his concern, placing a hand over your new necklace, and walking back, away from him.

“Promise.” You blew him a kiss, “see you in a minute, I love you.”

--

You knew something was wrong even before you walked in the room as you watched the queen walk out, eyes red. Her breath stopped when she saw you and she looked as if she were about to come over to speak to you, but shook her head, continuing on with a tight smile.

The guards opened the doors to the large throne room, escorting you into the dark room.

The king sat alone.

The room was dark, lit only by the light of the full moon coming in from the glass walls and ceiling. He sat on his burnished throne; his crown lopsided on his head as he swirled a goblet of blood red wine.

You stepped forward, head bowed, posture never faltering as your mind travelled back to the way you had watched your grandmother stand up to him as well, only to pass away less than a month later leaving you with no real family.

“It’s a shame really,” he started, voice low and gravelly and you stayed silent, waiting for him to continue. “You were truly doing so well, and Dorian the poor boy, this will affect him greatly I presume.”

You fought the bile rising in your stomach at the implications of what he was saying, but kept your mouth shut.

“And I have been nothing but fair, giving you all you could ever dream of and keeping you on a tight leash. But I suppose teenage girls will always want to disobey.” He stood then, motioning to the guards who came and kicked you down, landing on your knees harshly with a yelp as you looked up at the approaching king with fear in your eyes.

He reached you, his hand stroking your cheek lightly before trailing down to your necklaces, gently twirling the stone between your collarbones before holding the one Dorian had gifted you tightly.

“Hmm, tacky,” was all he said before tugging harshly, ripping the necklace of you, and throwing it to the side. “I guess I’ve dragged this out enough now.”

You were shaking were you sat, tears slowly trailing down your face but still to afraid to say a word, even as a guard you didn’t recognise approached you, drawing his sword as the others held you tightly. Your eyes widened, fear seeping in as you started fighting the guards, desperately thrashing in their grips as you met the kings’ eyes.

“You can’t do this,” you begged but it was futile as he laughed in your face, “Please it will destroy Dorian, he is your son please don’t do this.”

“It builds character, a strong king needs to be broken.”

“What about the public! They will figure it out, you can’t spin this one.” You were pulling at strings, but you had to try anything you could.

“I AM KING! WHATVER I SAY GOES, WHATEVER I SAY IS THE TRUTH!” he exploded, and you started sobbing, begging for your life as the king turned away, gesturing for the guard to continue. You were shaking, pulling away from the guards as you fought against their death grip.

You watched the guard raise the sword above his head, squeezing your eyes shut as you sent a prayer to any god that was listening. As you prayed, clutching your necklace letting loose sobs and cried for Dorian you failed to notice the glow emitting from you. You heard the guard step forward to slash down and raised your hands to brace for the blow, a blow that never came.

You looked up to see the three guards that were next to you were all sliced in half, blood spilling onto the floor. You screamed pushing away, slipping on the blood as you tore away sobbing as the king turned to you, face white with fear and rage.

“GET HER!” he screamed but you had already begun running, skirts bunched in your hands, the glow around you shielding you from their arrows as you tore through the doors and into the courtyard, running as fast as your legs would allow, dropping yours arms as the full force of the moons light hit you. You saw a path you and Dorian often took to sneak out and headed for it, hiding behind the mock door that was covered in shrubbery, a hand pressed to your mouth as you muffled your sobs hearing the guards stopping nearby, speaking in hushed tones.

You felt something wet press against your leg and almost screamed, looking down to see Amaris gazing up at you with those bright, unblinking eyes. You held in your sobs, picking him up and pressing him into your chest as you quietly made your way down the path that led to the woods, walking in the moon veiled forest.

Your dress was bloody and torn, your delicate heels had snapped, and your feet were tearing from where you stepped having removed them. You ran through the woods, heading as far away as you could get, however you eventually had to slow walking and holding in your sobs as you realised what you had done.

Not only had you used magic, but you had also killed three men and left Dorian. You held Amaris tighter to your chest as he licked at you gently, your necklace still glowing even thought your entire body ached, ready for rest. But you ploughed on, coming out of the forest onto an empty dirt road.

You sat down for a second, letting Amaris down as you sobbed into your hands until you had no tears left, your entire body still shaking. But you forced yourself to stand, picking up Amaris and walking down the road, luckily finding a small farm with horses.

You quietly took a horse, placing down your tiara in its place, wishing you could apologise more but instead mounting the horse and leaving, riding into the night, tears drying on your face as you held your light close with one hand. You wished you could just wake up, wrapped in Dorians arms as he comforted you after your bad dream, but the pain in your body suggested that wasn’t going to happen.

You wanted Dorian but you needed a plan. And you needed a drink.

--

Chaol stood in the throne room, his hand clenched so tight his knuckles were white as he watched the king spin his story of your sudden disappearance, the sound of Dorians silent cries breaking his heart.

When they were excused he dragged Dorian to his room, where he finally broke down, falling to his knees and sobbing into his hands, muttering about how he should have protected her.

“Dorian I know this isn’t what you want to hear right now, but I think something bad happened to (y/n).” he said, approaching his brother cautiously as he looked at him with wide, tear filled eyes.

“What?” he asked, his voice breaking in his throat. Chaol finally unclenched his hand and passed what he had been holding to Dorian.

The gold necklace was caked with blood.

[moral-turpitudes]

A Sister’s Intuition:

A/N: The gif has nothing to do with this one. It just made me chuckle cuz this most certainly has fighting.

Also, this is a weird mix of Arthur actually killing the church dude, but instead of Linda trying to shoot him right after like in the show, this story is like the event that causes her to go off the rails and try to shoot him (and fictionally, Y/N lol can you imagine). So this, in my fucked up mind, is the calm before the storm that is the lovely Linda with a gun.

Trigger Warnings: Fighting obviously, Mentions of Blood, Angst, Family Drama?, Cheating, Taunting, Swearing.

Word Count: 2,114

Characters: Shelby Family x Shelby!Sister Reader

Requested: Yes, well it was suggested but still. Long story short I have a bone to pick with my brothers gf and this was cathartic. 

Request by: Anon, you can find it here.

Summary: Linda is being Linda and Y/N can’t stand her messing with her brother Arthur’s head another day. She just snaps. People and their feelings get hurt. Nothing like a nice bloody family dinner at the Shelby-Gray household.

Y/N’s skin crawled as she heard the voice of the woman downstairs. Her heart racing and fists clenching as she heard the half-hearted laughs and forceful exchange of pleasantries that were painstakingly muttered by the rest of the Shelby family.

As she smoothed out her dress, she heard Polly calling for her, surely to help with setting the table for dinner. With shaking hands she opened her door, her eldest brother Arthur’s laugh echoing through the lavish house as she made her way down the stairs.

“Y/N, nice of you to join us.” Thomas said, patting her on the shoulder as she sulked to the kitchen, avoiding Linda’s ever-judgmental gaze.

“I’ll set the table.” She said, Polly nodding at her with an annoyed expression as she glanced out into the dining room. The feeling fortunately seeming mutual.

“How’s the farm treating you brother? Having fun with the baby?” Ada asked, as Karl reached for one of the rolls in the basket Y/N was setting down.

“It’s good, quiet.” He said, his eyes looking tired and emotionless as the years went by.

“Don’t eat too much now, you won’t want dinner sweetheart.” Ada said, giving him a warning glance as Y/N silently set the table, glancing at Arthur’s troubled state. Thomas couldn’t help but notice his youngest sisters rage as she harshly set the silverware down, especially the knives.

It had been two years since the first conflict between her and Linda. The whole thing starting as Linda slowly brainwashed Arthur. No one really noticed at first, how she sunk her claws into him. How he’d stop his excessive use of cocaine, or his anger fueled drunken rampages on a dime. How he’d mess up on missions, putting them at risk. Or how he started asking Linda for permission to go places and her ordering him to be home at certain times when on business. No one noticed that while some of his habits were best left in the past, he was also leaving part of himself. The part of him that she knew and grew up with. The part that smiled and joked. The part that didn’t question himself and his worth on a daily basis. This was how she pulled him in, and he was forever tied to her now. Seeing as their 1 year old sat in his lap, giggly and oblivious to the pressures and expectations he’d be raised on years later whether Arthur wanted him to be or not.

The big blow up between them though, was when Y/N learned she cheated. If she inherited one good thing in life from the Shelby family it was her intuition. Her ability to sense when a person meant harm. Her ability to know when someone was nothing more than a snake. A soul-sucking, venomous snake.

The night she found out, she made sure Arthur was alright, or at least alive, knowing how he could spiral at any given moment. That was one thing about growing up around a dysfunctional family. Knowing when the others needed help, and knowing when to help set others straight. And he had seemed okay, at least until a few days later.

That same week Arthur killed the man she’d cheated on him with, going down a dark spiral as he grappled with his sins. His eyes brimming with tears and hands stained red as he walked into the house unannounced, nearly giving Polly a heart attack.

Y/N remembering how she sat him down and wiped the tears from his eyes and blood from his busted knuckles as he stared at her.

“These are the hands of a devil, Y/N...how can I be saved like this?” He asked through tears.

“Don’t ask how god can save you. Ask how you can save yourself.” She said, wrapping his hands in gauze.

“What?” He asked, confused. The tears streamed down his face as she urged him to drink a glass of water, given he was already in a drunken state.

“You have to save yourself, Arthur. I can’t do it for you. Linda cheated on you yeah? Well it’s not the first time she’s hurt you. No one else can really see it...not even you...but I can...She’s made you into someone you’re not. You may need to slow it on the drinking and drugs, and get your anger in check, but you don’t have to completely ruin yourself over some words in a book or some girl alright? I want my brother back...” She said giving him a strong hug. She wasn’t known for talking much, always preferring to stay in the background and being quiet, but she threw insults and plans around in her head just like Thomas. But when she did say something, people listened.

The day after Arthur attacked Linda’s lover, she decided to meet with her at her house. The rain pouring down as she made her way up the winding dirt roads, her thoughts running through her mind as she reluctantly stepped inside the farmhouse.

“Oh, Y/N. Wasn’t expecting you.” She said, a disgusted look on her face.

“We agreed last night to meet but I guess you didn’t remember. Must’ve been a bit preoccupied I see.” Y/N said, leaning to the side as she saw yet another man walking around the house that wasn’t Arthur. There was a long, awkward silence before she continued.

“I’m just here to warn you that you’ll get what’s coming to you. You don’t fuck with the Shelby family.” She said spitting at her feet.

“You know Y/N? You’re just like the rest of them. No morals...no class...nothing.” She said.

Y/N smirked as she inched closer to her, standing almost eye to eye. With a quick draw of her arm, she landed a harsh slap to her face. Her handprint stinging and bright red as it adorned Linda’s cheek.

“You’re one to talk about morals and class. People like you make me sick.” Y/N spat, walking off as Linda stood there holding her cheek. Her mystery lover nowhere to be seen as he’d retreated back to the bedroom in hiding, most surely thinking Arthur was there.

As she set the final glass down, she was brought out of her horrendous memories by the voice of her brother John.

“Aye Y/N, how’s your training been going with Finn and the guys? Think you could take him out yet?” He said, a mischievous smirk on his face. Linda scowled as she glanced over at Y/N, probably remembering how her face stung after the blow. The event seeming years away due to the hectic business of the blinders and the growing number of kids in the family.

“I highly doubt she could. Even if she grew up with you lot as brothers. Besides, it’s not ladylike. You can’t fight around the children.” Linda said, sipping her tea.

Y/N’s eyes pierced hers as she sat there. Her appetite fading as she got up from the table.

“Y/N...now’s not the time for this. Sit down.” Polly said, pointing at the empty chair between her and Thomas.

“I have no desire to sit with someone I can’t trust. You’ll get what’s coming to you Linda. I swear it on our mums grave.” She said getting up from the table again, this time making it to the kitchen before hearing quick footsteps.

“You said that last time and nothing happened. What are you going to do? All this family does is make empty promises. You’re just a worthless girl with nothing but her families bad manners and filthy blood money...” Linda continued, Y/N zoning out as she unclasped her earrings and threw them on the counter. Her eyes scanning Linda’s movements as she stepped closer, cracking her knuckles. John got up as soon as he heard her bad-mouthing his sister. Finn stood and made his way near her only for John to hold him back with a smirk, knowing this was long over-due.

She didn’t say anything as she swung a left hook, a loud crack sounding through the room as Linda stumbled back. John cheering slightly as she regained her composure.

“I told ya you’d get what’s coming to you.” She said, as Linda lunged forward and went to slap her in the face, but failing as Y/N blocked her hand and twisted causing a scream to erupt from her lying mouth. Blood was dripping from her nose as Arthur and Thomas came in. To her surprise, they didn’t jump in nor did Arthur try to stop her, knowing all too well his once precious Linda was bound to pay somehow. Polly and Ada shielded the children, holding their hands over their eyes as the mini brawl panned out.

“You’re going to hell!” Linda yelled, punching Y/N in the shoulder as she cried.

“I’ve been there already love, it’s quite nice.” She said moving back and raising her arms up to guard her face, looking for an open spot, eventually landing a final blow to Linda’s ribs that left her on the ground gasping for air.

Thomas suddenly grabbed Y/N’s arm and yanked her back. She wasn’t kicking and screaming, but he could see the rage in her eyes. The way his and Arthur’s often looked.

“Enough. Alright? She got the message. Enough.” He said.

“No. No I don’t think she did. Get off me.” She spat, trying to wrestle her way out of her brothers grasp.

Thomas let go so he wouldn’t hurt her, but watched on as she stalked towards Linda and Arthur.

“You can see how you’ve torn this family up right? I can’t speak for everyone, even for the man you’ve hurt, but I can speak for me and I’ll never accept you into this family again. Never. Now get out of my fucking house.” She said lowly, grabbing Linda’s arm harshly as Arthur tried to stop her.

“Y/N I’ll take her, you go cool down.” Arthur said, his hands shaking a bit as he was still torn between the hurt from Linda’s past actions and the love he had for her. 

Y/N stood up with her arms crossed, her knuckles bloodied and aching as she stared her brother down.

“Arthur...do you remember what I told you that night? You have to save yourself. She’s going to keep you trapped in those same situations again if you don’t do something. She’ll hurt you if you don’t watch out.” She said, wiping a tear from her cheek as she shoved past her brothers and Polly, the children crying as an awkward silence fell over the house. She sulked back up to her room, cleaning her knuckles and bandaging them the best she could, knowing everyone probably hated her now.

“What was that aye?” Thomas asked.

“Fucking hell Tommy.” She said, jumping slightly at his voice from the doorway.

“I was just doing what no one else wanted to fucking do. Someone had to make her and our idiot brother see reason.” She said, wincing as she tried to wrap the gauze around her knuckles.

Thomas silently came over and helped her, trying to think of something to say as he snipped the last of the white fabric.

“You all hate me I already know. I just couldn’t sit there as she acted like everything was fine. Like she didn’t hurt him multiple times. She’s nothing but trouble and no one fucking understands that.” She said, tears welling up in her eyes.

“He can protect himself...I’m sure he’ll come around. And we don’t hate you. Besides, if I was betting on you that would’ve been the best fight of the year. I know for a fact you can take down Finn.” He said, trying to lighten her mood.

“I already did, he just doesn’t talk about it.” She said giggling and wiping the tears away as she gave him a hug. He sighed as he wrapped his arms protectively around her.

“She also had it coming. She said I had no morals...and no class....I just couldn’t let her talk that way about me...and about our family.” She said.

“Aye she did have it coming, I’ll agree on that. But you can’t listen to her. There will always be people who’ll say those things. They just don’t understand us.” He said.

“Well, they should work on that then aye? I guess next time I’ll try not to beat anyone up. I’m not promising anything though.” She said, Thomas chuckling as she broke from the hug and went into her room.

“I’ll see what’s going on down there. You just rest. But uh,,,do me a favor aye?” He asked.

“Yeah?”

“If someone does say something, don’t go at them alone. Tell me alright?” He asked.

“Okay...” she said with a sigh, hoping the night could be over with.

“Good, I’ll see you at the family meeting tomorrow then. Bright and early.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh fuck off Tommy...Goodnight.” She said, play-punching his shoulder.

“Goodnight.” He said, putting his cap on and making his way out the door to whatever family chaos awaited him.

[zodiyack]

Curiosity Killed The Cat

Requested by Anon: I know we do happy Elizabeth Shelby but, could you imagine teen Elizabeth figuring out that Bonnie was never her real dad? And it was a dead beat bastard? I’m feeling kinda angsty????

Pairing: Bonnie Gold x Female!Shelby!Reader, Mentioned Male!Character x Female!Shelby!Reader, Bonnie & Reader + Elizabeth Shelby (platonic)

Warnings: Angst, swearing, mention of teen pregnancy

Words: 1,898

Summary: (See Request)

Note: I like- I had an idea, altered it a little halfway through, and then went with it. I hope you like it, anon!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @simonsbluee, @fandom-puff, @marquelapage, @stuckysslag​, @psychkunox​, @darling-i-read-it​, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow​, @i-love-superhero​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist | Elizabeth L. Shelby Masterlist

She had never meant to invade another’s privacy in her life...but one little detail pulled the small bit of string sticking from the yarn ball, unraveling into one big mess. That was how she’d ended up in the situation never meant to happen. But it did.

It was a slow morning, Bonnie out to help with the Peaky Blinders and Y/n helping Ada and Polly with the boys. Elizabeth had a free day from her schooling and her ever growing mind was still as inquisitive as it was when she were just a babe.

The study, in which her parents did most of their work, was not off limits to her, just a place where she hadn’t been as often. Because of that, she decided she’d spend her time taking care of her boredom by snooping around.

All was going pleasantly until she found a letter, hidden in the bottom drawer of her mother’s wooden desk. Elizabeth frowned to herself, knowing better than to stick her nose into things that were not hers to know of, and began to move the items in the drawer to return the letter to its original place. However, the glimpse she caught of her name, or what looked like her name, sprawled in messy handwriting, caught her like a fish on a hook and reeled her in.

The word had been seen slightly between the folded end and the middle. She wasn’t completely sure it had been her name, so she debated leaving it alone and moving on with her day or giving into the pull of the hook of intrigue.

Biting her lip, she looked around. Then she breathed slowly and carefully unfolded the paper.

When Bonnie and Y/n returned to their home, they had expected a few things. Perhaps the house would be spotless and Elizabeth would act as if it were nothing, or the house would be a mess and she would have a boy over- that idea caused Bonnie to almost crash the car. Thinking of many things they’d find, Elizabeth with her arms crossed, a paper in her hand and a conflicted look upon her face was not one of them.

It was like they were the teens caught out and about in the middle of night by returning after curfew and she was the angry parent. Her expression caused her parents to stop in place and give her a questioning look. Ellie unfolded her arms and held up the paper. Right at that moment, Y/n’s heart stopped and dropped into her stomach. She squeezed Bonnie’s hand tightly.

“Who wrote this?” The two exchanged a knowing glance. “Mother. Who wrote this?”

Y/n hesitated getting the answer out of her mouth. The letter was something she hadn’t thought about, something she yearned to forget. “Your father.”

“My father? But I thought he was my father.” Elizabeth gestured to Bonnie, who sighed and moved to take a seat opposite to Elizabeth. “Have a seat, mum, I think we have something to talk about.”

“Indeed we do, Elizabeth.” Bonnie avoided his daughter’s- step-daughter’s eyes as he spoke, staring at his hands.

Y/n did as her daughter requested, more so demanded, and sat beside Bonnie. She too held a sheepish manner.

“Please, tell me, why am I just now learning of my father? Why not when I was a little girl? Why is he not a part of my life?”

The final question led Bonnie to surge upward from his seat, finally making eye contact with a now startled Elizabeth. “That man will have nothing to do with you if I have any say in this whatsoever!” His face was as red as a tomato, but calmed a few shades as Y/n put a soft hand on his arm.

“You don’t have a say in it. This is between my mother and I.” She looked at him apologetically, “You will always be my dad, but I want to know my real father.”

“He’s right...ya know? I never really wanted you around him...but-” Was it worth it? Ruining his image before Elizabeth had the chance to even meet him? He lived right there in Birmingham, she could meet him and see for herself, but, as Y/n thought more about it, he was a cruel man, one who neglected to even care for his child or his lover who was carrying said child.

“But what? Is he dead or something?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing!” Moments prior, Bonnie had scared Elizabeth with an outburst of his own, but it was the adults this time who nearly fell out of their chairs in surprise. “Either let me meet him or leave me to find him on my own.” She whipped around, her shoes clacking against the floors as she paced quickly to her room, leaving her parents to discuss her ultimatum.

Each meal went by with an awkward tension hanging over the three, the room filled with silence if you didn’t count the scraping of spoons against bowls or forks against plates. The simple sound only worsened the strained feeling in the air.

No answer came to Elizabeth, so she took matters into her own hands, following out her second offer and sought to find the man who gave her life. Each day she’d ask the name of which had been signed on the letter, going as far as to put his name in the newsprint. As a Shelby, she didn’t have to pay a single thing to have the people put anything in the news, but the goodness of her heart got the best of her and the people themselves. They offered to call the place she had been staying when they had a lead, but sadly, no calls had been made.

But one day, while she sat with the same hopefulness by the telephone with a cup of coffee in hand, the ringing filled her ears and a smile struck her face instantaneously. She almost dropped the coffee onto the carpeted hotel flooring as she jumped to set it down and grab the phone. “Hello?!” Her voice beaned with joy.

“Miss! There’s a call from the newsprint office,” the woman from the front desk said, voice ringing with a sense of rush, “they’re on hold- they say it’s urgent!”

The smile on Elizabeth’s face widened, “Please, put them on the line!”

“Miss Shelby, we have him!”

He waited for her in the lobby of the hotel, confusion obvious on his features. Elizabeth slowly walked down the stairs and the second her eyes met his, she felt sure that it was him. “Father!” She grinned and raced to him. Ellie threw her arms around him the second she reached him.

A small feeling of uncertainty picked at Elizabeth when he didn’t hug her back right away. She noticed his hesitation almost instantly but brushed it off when he finally wrapped his arms around her small frame. “You must be...”

“Elizabeth. Elizabeth Luludja Shelby.” She paused, furrowing her brows a little when he scoffed at her middle name, but continued nevertheless. “I’m um...your daughter.”

“Did your mother tell you about me?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, sucking in a breath bitterly. “No.”

“Oh...It’s fine with me. Never liked the whore that much anyways.”

Another pang of guilt struck Elizabeth, but again, she ignored it. “Yeah...” She laughed nervously, the unsure feeling growing deeper, twisting into a big sign that told her in capital letters to RUN. But she didn’t.

The two spent the day together, bonding and discussing what he would’ve done with her had he been given the opportunity to be her father. Of course, he never wasted the chance to call Y/n slurs and ghastly words. All seemed fine, Ellie wondered why on earth her parents thought he was a bad man, until he did yet another thing to make Elizabeth’s fight or flight mode prepare itself despite her not exactly wanting to.

He offered to hold her bag whilst she used the toiletries, then when he handed it back, took her to a shop. There, when paying, she found that a large amount of funds she’d been saving up since childhood had been missing. She bit the inside of her mouth and shook her head. But still, she refused to give up on him just yet.

They walked the streets, making small talk as they went by. “You got a lover yet?”

“Not quite. Mother said I should be sure before giving my heart to someone.”

“Yeah, well, your mother got herself knocked up before she was even of age so. Best think about who you’re getting advice from, Eirene.” He butchered her name off the bat, but she’d ignored that too, only correcting him each time- just not this one. “Date and fuck whoever you want, don’t let that bitch boss you around.”

He leaned closer to her, allowing her to smell the alcohol under his breath, the tobacco and surely, without a doubt, plenty of drugs. She cringed, scrunching her face and looking away from him in hope to get fresh air, but something about that smell stuck with her. What had he used her money on? Did his breath smell like that before? Was he intoxicated at the hotel?

“Listen, I think it’s best I get going...” She tried to pull away from him, but he caught a grip on her arm, tighter than he should’ve.

“No. You’re staying with me and that’s final. Come on Eliza, lets go meet my friends. You ever try snow before?”

That was the final time the red lights flashed. In what felt like a split second slowed dramatically, Elizabeth socked her father in the nose, hearing a cracking sound before he let go of her arm and she stumbled backwards a little.

“You bitch!” His grumble was muffled from behind his hand. He covered his nose and mouth, blood on his hand from either places but Ellie didn’t know which. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

She was ready to apologize, but for once, it felt good to do something un-ladylike. “I seldom act as barbarous as that, but I know one thing. I feel not guilt for my actions, but justice. You call my mother horrid names that she would never be defined by, you can’t even stay clean for a visit with your own daughter nor keep your thieving hands out of anything that is not your own! Let alone remember my name!”

“And?!”

“And-” She hesitated, but rolled her eyes and let it out. “And fuck you. I believe there is good in everyone, but you have shown me otherwise. I thought mother and...and my father were wrong, that my birth father was a good man, but the day started with joy and ended in disappointment. I’m ashamed to even be from your blood. May you rot in the deepest depths of hell, you dishonorable bastard.”

Gasps came the people around them, making Elizabeth look around and glare at the bystanders, “Fuck off before the Peaky Blinders have you all...”

She turned to the man, still on the ground clutching his face, and thought about how she’d spent just a little less than a month searching for him; news traveled fast in Birmingham. “In fact, you’re lucky all you got was me. Because, if you have any brain whatsoever, you’ll leave Birmingham before you get the Peaky Blinders too.”

[cummingforkylo]

The Prince Of Alderaan Chapter II

Chapter Summary: Lady Whistledown’s latest papers leaves you quite indignant and unsure of your next steps. Hyde Park is beautiful at this time of year but when you venture out with your Mama, you have anything but flowers in mind. 

Chapter One | Read On AO3 | Send me a Ko-fi

Rating: Explicit...eventually

Word Count: 5,309

Warning: None as of now

Pairing: Kylo Ren x reader

Notes: Okay, Okay, I KNOW if you’ve seen Bridgerton you know that I pretty much took this one key element from the storyline but I promise i’m going to do it differently.This story is inspired by the netflix show/book series Bridgerton. It’s kind of a crossover because I do use some themes and characters from the show but it is mostly a Kylo x Reader fic. Remember: historical accuracy is not the goal!<3 

Dearest Lords and Ladies of London,

After the first event of the season last night I’m sure we are all wondering what scandal or excitement awaits our hungry appetite! This writer has heard from her sources that while the ball seemed to be laden with the typical talk(Miss Philippa Featherington danced with no one, Lady Browning indulged far too much in champagne and had to be removed from the party by her son, Lord Linfield was rejected by countless ladies for a dance…despite his sizable fortune-perhaps it is the lingering oder of cabbages and onions that accompanies him wherever he goes) there was one bit of excitement that stood far above the other more typical anecdotes. The most scandalous young lady of this season so far, Miss Huntington, seems to have caught the eye of the most coveted (and reluctant) bachelor of the season, the Prince of Alderaan.

Prince Kylo Ren of Alderaan spent much of the evening avoiding the dance floor and was seen to scurry away from many very suitable young ladies including Miss Bridgerton-Queen Charlotte’s choice of the season. While he resisted strongly(and some might even have called his actions rude) most of the young ladies he encountered he seemed to be unable to keep himself away from Miss Huntington. Miss Huntington, still fresh off of her family’s embarrassing gambling scandal last year did not do herself any favors at the Danbury Ball. She danced with a number of men who would have been perfectly adequate for her, but she seemed to have had nothing but contempt for them. Showing no more interest in them then a horse shows a fly and this mare perhaps should not be brushing flies away too quickly, no matter how much their buzz annoys her.

But perhaps the Prince sees something in Miss Huntington that society as a whole does not, because after ignoring the Queen’s choice of the season all night, the Prince and Miss Huntington came together for, by all accounts, a most heated dance.  I will be interested to see if Miss Huntington has a royal caller today and what that could mean for her prospects later on. Perhaps the Queen has chosen the wrong girl for the diamond of the season this year, perhaps we have all put our eggs in the wrong basket. But—perhaps not. Only time(and this writer) will reveal.

Yours most sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

“Contempt?” You gasped as you paced back and forth in front of the piano in your sitting room. Mama was sitting in front of a table holding the latest Lady Whistledown, a quickly cooling cup of tea completely forgotten sat on the table in front of her. “I didn’t show any of those men contempt! I was perfectly polite, Mama!” You complained. You were affronted to hear what that wretched Whistledown had written of you, written of you and the Prince.

“I understand that, but the members of the ton might not now that they’ve read this.” Mama sighed. Nerves clenched at your stomach, how could your status seemed to have gotten lower since the Danbury Ball? “Not all of what she wrote of you was terrible, dearest.” Mama said, trying to perk up. She set the paper down next to her tea on the table. “Don’t you agree, Ella?” she continued, looking to your lady’s maid who stood nearby.

“Oh, yes, not all of it was-“

“She compared me to a horse.” You said, turning around to face the two of them, frustration and irritation plain on your face. Ella’s face dropped and she nodded, looking away. “Sorry, Ella. I do not mean to take my own frustrations out on you.” You said.

“She did mention the Prince being taken with you-“

“Yes, what was the word she used to describe our dance?” You asked, “Oh yes, heated. That’s a scandalous word if ever I’ve heard one.” You said. You strode over to the table and picked up the copy of Lady Whistledown Society Papers that now sat on the table beside your Mama. You found yourself wanting to rip it into a million pieces, that of course would not be a proper display, even just in front of your mother and lady’s maid.

Your Mama reached out and took your hand, running her thumb along the backside of  it in a comforting way that only a Mama knew how to do. You looked down at her and found yourself for what felt like the millionth time, wishing things were different. Wishing things had not exploded for your family last year. How much easier would life currently be if your father had not indebted himself to so many people, not made a mockery of your lives? You tried to brush away the thought but anger pulsed through you. A most unlady-like feeling, anger. It caused you to think of actions you wanted to take but never could, words you wanted to speak but never would allow yourself to. It made you long even more for a different world wherein you could do and say those things. And longing wasn’t ladylike either.

“Dearest, she also compared you to Daphne Bridgerton and said the Queen herself may have been wrong in her choice. That the whole ton might have been wrong in thinking the diamond of the season was Miss Bridgerton, and she means that it could be you.” As your Mama spoke a whole knew vista of opportunities, and chances seemed to open up before you. You could, no, you had to prove this true. That you were more eligible, more likable and just…more than anyone else. The Prince could call on you and he could court you, and ask for your hand and marry you. Then all this worry, all this anger and pain and scandal would be for naught. It would be forgotten about because you will have made the match of the season. Even if he was rude, cruel and you became irritated at the mere memory of his mocking voice, you would still become a Princess when you married him and that was exactly what your family needed. Yes, that was the goal and you were heartened by it.

“My guess is you will have quite a lot of callers today, suitors ready to vy for your hand.” Mama said and you smiled because you really did agree with her.

*

Your mood dissolved as the day went on, you spent the entire day in the sitting room awaiting on callers. You paced, and no one called. You sat on the sofa and tried to read, and no one called. You  played piano and no flowers or gifts arrived. You talked to Ella about other things to try and distract yourself and no one called. You picked out fabric for your next dress from the swatches the Modiste had sent and no one called. Not one suitor. You had been so  convinced that the Prince would call, or at least send flowers that in the afternoon when there was a knock at the sitting room door you were sure it was the Butler there to tell you that he was there but instead the door opened and your eldest brother walked in with his wife and your niece and nephew close behind. Matthew was jovial as he greeted you and your Mama,

“Did you read Lady Whistledown today? That woman has a knack for writing compelling stories does she not?” He asked as he grabbed a biscuit and sank down at the table. His wife, Rose sat down next to you at the piano as the children ran about already causing havoc. You rolled your eyes, had they not read the same thing this morning? Why would he think it compelling?

“She compared me to a horse, Matthew.” You found yourself saying once again, turning to look at your elder brother who attempted and failed to hide a smile.

“I told him not to bring up Lady Whistledown.” Rose sighed, reaching over to take your hand in the sweet and gentle way that she did.

“Ella, can you call down to the kitchens for more tea, please?” Mama said, looking to Ella who said,

“Of course, Ma’am.” She curtsied and left them. Matthew watched her go from the room, and leaned back against his chair.

“She may have made a few brash statements, my dear sister but she also reminded everyone that their choice of Daphne Bridgerton for the diamond of the season could be false and it could be you.” Matthew said, delicately selecting another biscuit from the tray in front of him.

“That is precisely what I pointed out out to your sister earlier.” Your mama said approvingly glancing from Matthew to you over her teacup.

“That was before absolutely no suitors came to call this morning,” You reminded your mother, irritation coloring your voice once again.

Your nephew sped past the table his father was at, grabbing a biscuit as he went.

“Simon, where on earth are your manners?” Rose asked. Simon stuck his tongue out at his mother and continued his game of chasing his sister around the couch with the biscuit in his mouth.

“You had no suitors this morning? None at all?” Matthew asked, and the shock in his voice made you want to shrivel up and die. It was unfair, unfair that Matthew was there to bare witness to  your suffering, unfair that he should be here with his happy wife and children watching you fail at your only duty in life. Your mama shook her head to answer for you because you were looking anywhere but at your elder brother. Rose squeezed your hand and your chest flooded with sudden emotion. The tiniest gesture made you feel as though you were not alone. Had she once felt like this? Had she too wondered if anyone would want her? Had she wondered if she would amount to anything more than the hated title of ‘spinster’? No, Matthew had been there from the start, he had been interested and active in seeking her out.

Matthew was  frowning as if in thought, “Does father know?” he asked, trying now to hide some of his shock by asking pointless questions. Of course Father didn’t know, Father wasn’t home, how would he know? Mama answered in a more polite fashion than you would have,

“Not yet,” She said.

“Hm. Well. There is still time.” He said shot you a quick smile, perhaps you weren’t entirely useless. Your mood did not improve, even when you retreated to your room to get dressed for walking in Hyde park. You knew you could not get discouraged. You knew you had to prove yourself as the best. Lady Whistledown might have helped along the No Suitors Situation but she herself had also said you could be the rightful Diamond of the Season and not Daphne Bridgerton. Everyone had already said this to you today and now you had to remind yourself. You had to convince yourself because it would take that confidence to pull it off. As Ella helped you dress you found your mind floating back to the night before, at the Danbury Ball and how flat every dance had felt, every look between you and a man had had no significance, every touch was dull and expected. It had all been nothing. All except one—the Prince. The rude, cruel, infuriating Prince Ren who had called you improper, even though he had been the one staring at you. Kylo Ren, who had…touched your skin. Your heart pounded at the mere memory of his fingers grazing against your back. It made you ashamed but not nearly as much as it should have, because it also was the only memory from the Danbury Ball that exhilarated you. He had sought you out, and you alone, it had to have meant something. And yet when he danced with you it seemed as though all he wanted from it was to humiliate you. You wished it wasn’t possible. You wished it hadn’t worked. And you very much wished you still weren’t thinking about it.

***

Your thoughts of Prince Kylo Ren didn’t abate when you left your house for the short carriage ride to Hyde Park. You were still thinking about him as you strolled along the walking paths with your Mama and your Lady’s maids. You were trying to work out what exactly he had meant by his behavior, why choose you to be the only young lady he danced with and then be nothing but rude to you? Perhaps he did not think himself rude? Perhaps he just spoke his mind very bluntly. You considered this as the best option for a while, barely noticing where your feet were carrying you as you walked alongside your Mama. But a memory resurfaced from that night, that made it very clear to you that this could not be the case. It was the memory of the smirk that seemed to hang even in his voice as he said, “You stared at me, my lady.” Your insides twisted at it. That and the way his eyes burned. He knew precisely what he was doing, he knew he was trying to humiliate you, trying to make you feel as if you had done something wrong. “How improper,” those words sent a spark through your body, something akin to anger and embarrassment. His voice had been dark and intense, your mind was absorbed in it…accompanied with the feeling of his gloved fingers against the bare skin of your back. It wasn’t the correct place for him to place his hand while leading a dance, it was slightly too high. Yet, he had done it. Accidentally? It must have been. He just had not been used to dancing with someone quite that much shorter than him, perhaps. Those fingers blazed through your memory, leaving little room for anything else in your brain. You could imagine his fingers there again as you looked out across the Serpentine River, which was little more than a shallow man-made pond that cut through this section of Hyde Park.

Your mind was so wrapped up in the feeling of those fingers, and the burn in his eyes that it took you far too long to notice you were staring directly at the real thing. It took your mother taking your arm and hissing in your ear,

“Staring at the Prince is not very lady-like.” She squeezed your arm and you blinked. She, of course, was right. Across the lake, the prince was standing arm in arm with the Queen Regent of Alderaan, his mother. Someone he had not been seen with years. As you took him in you realized he had not noticed you yet,  you should look away, being caught staring at him yet again would surely end in more humiliation. He paused in his walk with his mother, his expression was irritated, lips tight, body stiff and upright as she spoke to him. His eyes flicked up and you were very suddenly caught in his gaze. Caught wasn’t quite the right word to describe it, trapped was probably more accurate. A shiver ran up your spine, it was that same blazing glance, a whisper of the memory of a hand on your skin. You watched as humor suddenly joined the irritation on his face, recoloring it. He turned to look at his mother, spoke and then pulled his arm away from her. He began to walk to the foot bridge nearby. She called something after him but he ignored her, she turned to her Lady’s maid who was standing nearby but your eyes were following his Grace as he walked over the bridge.

“The Prince is headed in this direction,” Mama hissed to you quite unnecessarily. You were about to hiss back that you knew but you started to feel not only his eyes on you, but many eyes on you. Everyone who had gone for a late afternoon stroll through Hyde Park seemed to be looking at you.  All because Prince Kylo was stepping off the foot bridge and striding over towards you. You found yourself having the insane desire to run away. Perhaps it was because you couldn’t face him after he had caught you staring, or perhaps it was because of your disastrous dance at the Danbury Ball…or perhaps it was because of the persistent and scorching thoughts of his hand in yours, his fingers on your back. You wanted to hide from all of that and hide from his gaze but he walked up to you a moment later and inclined his head respectfully,

“Miss Huntington,” He said and then he turned slightly towards your Mama. “Lady Huntington,” He said.

“Your Grace,” Your Mama said, dropping to a curtsey. When you finally remembered how to move, and curtsied as well.

“Your Grace,” You mimicked your mother.

“What a pleasant thing, to meet you here.” Mama said, smiling almost adoringly up at Kylo. “Were you escorting your mother?” She asked. Something shifted slightly in his face, the subtle shift was enough to make his face go from mildly polite to the beginnings of irritation.

“Yes.” He said. “But I happened to see Miss Huntington across the Serpentine and thought she looked as though she could use a companion this afternoon.” He said. He offered his arm to you. You didn’t move. You were unsure if you should take it, unsure if you even wanted to take it. You knew you should and something inside of you did long for it, longed for his gloved hand in yours so that you could again revel in the memory of it against your bare back. Shock swept through you  at your own thoughts, and with that shock was the realization that the prince had his arm held out to you still, “Would you care to walk with me, Miss Huntington?” He asked. You took the proffered arm as gracefully as you could manage while you still recovered from your own thoughts and the longing that still drove you to consider his hand at such length.

“Yes, of course, Your Grace.” You said. You watched him give your mother a tight smile and nod, before he turned you away form her and began walking.

It was quiet except for the sound of your steps as you walked along the Serpentine, you listened to his heavy footfalls and your lighter ones keeping pace. Was he going to mention the rude things he had said when you had last spoke? Should you bring them up? You were about to ask him if he planned on insulting you again on your walk when he spoke,

“I thought you might have learned your lesson about staring the last time we met.” He spoke casually as though he wasn’t attempting to wound your pride. “That does not seem to be the case.” He said. You looked about, wondering if anyone was within earshot, but no, Mama and her Lady’s maid were the closest people to the both of you and she was at least twenty yards back.

“First of all, Your Grace, I did not realize I was looking at you this afternoon.” You said, turning to look up at him. He was so much bigger than you that it felt as though you had to lean back to see his face. “Secondly, I maintain that the last time we met, I was only looking at you because I had caught you looking at me.” You insisted, and again the memory of that evening filtered into your head. The way you had felt his eyes upon you and how you looked back with curiosity.

“Hm.” Was his answer, and for a long moment it seemed as though he was going to leave it at that, then he spoke with no humor in his voice, “You presume to know better than I?” He asked. Your body felt tight and if you had not been holding on to his arm, your hands would have been shaking. Was it just because he was a prince that he was this intimidating or was it more? No, it had to be more, there was something about him that screamed at you to be nervous, to be afraid. You had to take a deep breath before you spoke to him again,

“I presume to know when I am being looked at across a ballroom, Your Grace.” You said, turning your face away from him so you looked forward at the path in front of you instead.

“Do you know so acutely what that feels like?” He asked, you felt his eyes on you again, that intense gaze that had burned into your across the ballroom at the Danbury estate. He was mocking you again, because he knew you did not know what it felt like.  You swallowed and your eyes flicked up to him and then away again as you tried to recover.

“Perhaps not, but I knew I could sense your gaze.” You insisted.

“Perhaps I could sense yours.” He said.

“That’s impossible because I was not looking at you yet.” Your voice was colored with anger now and you wished you could take back the words, your frustration only seemed to spur him on.

“I think you might have been.”

“I was not.”

“Says who?”

“Me.” You almost ripped your arm away from him but you knew deep down that you could not. Not only was it impossible because you knew it would cause a scandalous scene but you could not because your body would not allow you to pull away from him. It felt like you were glued to his side.

“You seem unreliable to me,” His voice was humorless, irritated at your refusal to accept his version of events. You walked in silence next to him, not wanting to give him more fuel to flame his suspicions that you were an unreliable source, or a hot tempered girl. “Did you have many callers this morning?” You were so surprised by the question that you stopped walking, or you tried to because with your arm in his he simply towed you along with him.

“Excuse me?” You asked, breathless. It wasn’t an entirely unreasonable question for a friend to ask but you would not consider him a friend or even a potential suitor at this point. He had made it quite clear that he thought of you as nothing but an improper, unreliable, little girl.

“Lady Whistledown wrote that you might surprise everyone by making the match of the season,” He explained as he continued to tow you along with him. You turned your head to gaze up at him again, he was shocking in so many ways. Not only did he follow no real social protocols, but he spoke his mind and was too handsome to be reasonable. You wished you did not think it true, but as you looked at him you couldn’t help but notice again every pleasant thing about his face. Full lips, dark eyes with their fire-gaze, straight nose, and skin that was kissed with beauty spots in all sorts of delicate places. You blinked a few times, trying to beat back all the feelings that rose with appreciating his beauty,

“You read Lady Whistledown?” You asked, hating how stupid you sounded.

“Doesn’t everyone?” he asked. Your brow knit, you didn’t like being reminded of that fact. It must have shown on your face because he raised an eyebrow and his lip twitched towards a sardonic smirk, “I thought you would appreciate most of the things she wrote of you, Miss Huntington.” He observed. The idea that you would appreciate the things she wrote of you, of your family irritated you more than anything else he could have said. You let out a long, slow breath, trying to not let the anger towards Lady Whistledown effect the way you spoke to him. You were about to answer when he continued, cutting you off yet again, “You should appreciate that she’s willing to speak of you at all,” The frank way he put that boiled your blood and again you found yourself wanting to rip from his arm and march off but your body betrayed you once again and you remained stuck next to him.

“She…I can’t believe- that woman…she compared me to a HORSE!” You exclaimed, your voice dripping with contempt as you tried to not speak too loudly. Kylo frowned in thought a moment,

“I had not recalled that.” He said easily ignoring your fuming. “So, did you have callers this morning?” he asked again. You felt deflated, you had been so angry only seconds before and it was like it had been a soap bubble that he had burst. You swallowed and forced your eyes down, away from him. You felt your cheeks burn and you hoped your embarrassment didn’t show too much,

“No.” You said in the most dignified voice you could manage, lifting your chin. You weren’t sure why you were telling him the truth, but lying about it made it seem more shameful.

“No?” He confirmed, sounding surprised.

“No.” You said again, “No callers, no flowers, nothing.” He had walked you down the Serpentine to the next footbridge and now you were beginning to cross it. As you reached the middle of the bridge he stopped and looked down towards the water, you paused and stood on your tiptoes to look over the railing on the bridge as well, there was nothing but shallow dirty water below. Nothing of interest, but it was a good way to avoid his gaze.

“That surprises me. You danced with others at the Danbury ball I presume?” He asked.

“Yes,” You finally did look back towards him and again were struck by his handsome face. Your heart started to thrum faster in your chest. “I did think that perhaps you would call,” You admitted in a rush. The silence that fell seemed like the longest silence in your life. You wished you had not said anything. The words hung in the air and you wished they were physical so you could grab them and press them back inside of you, into your chest where he could no longer know them.

“Why would I call on you?” It was the emphasis on ‘you’ that hurt more than the sentiment itself. You let out the breath you had been holding and tried to replace the hurt with the frustration you had felt towards him earlier.

“I was the only young lady you danced with at the Ball,” You said, “And now you’re standing here, walking with me and asking if I had any callers. Forgive me, for thinking that might mean some form of interest, Your Grace.” You said.

“I am not interested, Miss Huntington.” He said so easily that you felt that same hurt as before. Why was he here then? Why was he walking with you now when you could have been walking with someone who was truly interested. Perhaps it was rude but at the moment you didn’t care,

“Why are you here then?” You demanded, you were finally able to pull your arm away from him now. “If you want so little to do with me, why walk with me?” You placed both hands on the railing of the bridge and turned fully towards the water once again. You tried to even your breathing, it was unbecoming to be gasping for breath even if it did feel like you had been kicked in the stomach.

“To irritate my mother,” He answered. Now it was easy to replace the hurt with anger, he was using you for his familial issues and it was at the expense of the rest of your life. How were you to have any suitors if he took up all your time with stupid walks that were only to his benefit.

You turned slowly towards him, feeling like anger was swelling up inside of you like the soap bubble from before, only you doubted it would be as easy to burst this time.

“To irritate your mother?” You asked, your voice dangerous and quiet. He was unapologetic. “How dare you? You think just because you’re some…some Prince that you can use me however you would like for your petty problems with your mother?” You gasped out, you were shaking now. Your whole body was responding to the indignity of what he was doing to you. His face darkened slightly and he stepped towards you, towering above you. Anyone watching might have mistaken this for something romantic if it hadn’t been for the loathing that was apparent on your face.

“You speak to a Prince like this?” he growled.

“When this Prince has acted anything but gentlemanly and has insulted me repeatedly-“

“Even when what I’m doing will help you in the long run as well?” He asked, his voice lowering even more.

“-by blatantly disrespecting me and my—what?” You pulled up short when he asked you that. “How on earth could this help me?” You paused, and then added with as much sarcasm as you could muster, “Your Grace.”

“Have you not noticed how many men have been watching you since I took your arm for this walk?” He hissed, leaning down closer to you. You could smell him now, and his scent with the overwhelming power of that dark gaze was enough to make you lose your breath for a moment.

“I-What?” You asked again, hurriedly looking around towards the other groups of people in the park.

“Don’t look now, stupid girl.” He growled. “Yes, my interest in you has piqued the interest of quite a few other men. You need suitors. I need my mother to stop pushing for me to marry…and I also need some peace from the idiotic Mama’s who push their daughters on me at every event I attend.” He said.

“I…I don’t understand.” You said softly, but you were beginning to, you remembered the way you had felt eyes on you when he had first come over to you. It hadn’t just been the eyes of gossiping old ladies, no, it had been the watchful daresay jealous eyes of men. He was proposing something to you, not something you would have thought of…but something almost as helpful.

“If you and I are seen together…seen as an item. Seen as if we were courting, you would become the most appealing girl in the ton. You would also become a challenge and men love nothing more than a challenge.” He said.

“And you…”

“Well, I would get exactly what I want as well-“ His eyes flicked to the other side of the river and down back where they had come where his mother was still walking with her Lady’s maid. You felt as though your heart would beat out of your chest, if he was right, if this worked it could very well get you a match by the end of the season.

“Do you think it would work?” You asked.

“If Lady Whistledown believes it. The whole ton will follow.” He said. “You just need to stop making scene of us in public.” He said. “Now take my arm again,” He instructed. “And walk back with me.”

You did as he said, hoping against hope he was right. He had to be right, your future was relying on it. You had to maintain that you were courting, you had to maintain it realistically and you had to do it while not thinking too much about his hand grazing your skin or the way his fire-gaze scorched your insides, burning excitement into your veins.

[winterrose527]

have you done an Ella - museum curator, Robb - investor on a tour work??

Ummmm no I had not! And wow was this one cathartic to write. It came out way longer than expected because this is a subject near and dear to my heart...

Thank you for this prompt!!

***

She was so sick of this shit.

Over a year of it. Ever since the governor’s order in April 2020. Back then she’d almost believed it was just a blip, a couple of weeks. A vacation, almost.

But then the ban on gatherings. The shutdowns. Finally the masks.

Every museum in the country had shut its doors along with libraries, movie theaters, and every other place desperate parents could take their children on a rainy Saturday.

Theirs had been luckier than most. An endowment a few years prior, which had been earmarked but not mandated for an expansion had been used to keep the lights on and the staff fed - literally. Their programming had gone virtual and understandably attendance had dropped but not entirely – thanks to a few local artists that had generously donated their time for a last minute plug.

Ever since restrictions had lifted, the crowds had returned somewhat. A rainy spring and summer had helped, but they were nowhere near their ‘pre-pandemic’ levels (and with the Delta variant on the rise she wasn’t super comfortable with the term ‘post-pandemic’ to describe their current state of affairs).

She wouldn’t say that today though.

No, today everything would be rosy – not just the botanical gardens that abutted the museum and had been started in 1853 – no, 1854.

Not that she imagined the potential donor would be fact checking her but nevertheless there was no room for error. She needed to represent the museum well. Her colleagues were counting on her – not to mention the collection itself depended on her.

The board had decided at its most recent meeting if they didn’t get an influx of donations within this quarter they were going to sell off a few pieces from the collection.

There was nothing sadder to a museum than deaccessioning. The staff all loved and protected the collection, and they truly felt the impact they and it had on the community. Myrcella loved to walk through the galleries on Thursday afternoons to see the regulars who’d come to visit the paintings like old friends of theirs, stopping by to say hello to a Baroque oil here or an Impressionist watercolor there.

So if schmoozing yet another prospective donor was what it took to mean that Mr. Poole’s favorite still-life stayed put for his bi-weekly Wednesday morning visit, then she would schmooze. She would schmooze Sansa Stark like her life depended on it.

She knew Sansa Stark sort of. It was the sort of thing where pre-pandemic they had run into each other at half a dozen events every year and always had a lovely chat and discussed getting together and then never did. The North was a small world and they ran in similar circles. But they weren’t friends.

Still, she was her best bet. From the wealthiest and most philanthropic family in the North, of course she was.

And she had to deliver.

The board had all made it clear that they expected results, and it had been suggested that really Myrcella Baratheon shouldn’t have such a hard time finding donors. But all her usual suspects had come to her with their own sob stories full of please tell me you won’t shut your doors but without any promise of relief, and the people she knew down south – the sort that profited from the world being in such dire straits had no interest in a little regional museum. No matter how much she marketed it as a hidden jewel.

To them, there was little worth in a jewel hidden, and they had no interest in having their act of charity buried under the northern snows.

So Sansa Stark was it.

She smoothed her dress, chosen carefully for the occasion. Sansa was always impeccably dressed and favored ladylike, tailored dresses for daytime, just as Myrcella did. Today, which had turned out to be a gorgeous one, she’d chosen a pale blue scallop trim knit dress, her grandmother’s wristwatch her only accessory. Feminine but appropriate. More comfortable than the clingier dresses she only ever so occasionally wore when taking around a male potential benefactor.

“Good luck,” Gilly, their glum registrar said as she raised her wrist to her nose to make sure she could still smell the scented oil she’d spread there that morning.

“Thanks baby,” Myrcella sighed, “Lunch from that naughty salad place when I’m done? My treat?”

Gilly smiled at that, “My treat if you get her.”

“Oh, now the stakes are really high,” she teased and blew Gilly a kiss and walked through the halls.

She felt eyes on her as she went. It was a small, tight-knit team, and it made it all the harder every time she received a sheepish regret. If she couldn’t succeed, one of them might lose their job if the board couldn’t decide what to sell. Even if they could, depending on how long this lasted.

Game face, Baratheon.

She took a deep breath and then smiled for fifteen seconds. She let it drop, knowing that it would still be in her eyes when she walked outside and it felt a little more genuine when her heels clacked along the gorgeous marble floor.

Walking over to the security desk, the smile reappeared on her face.

“Morning Roddy,” she grinned.

“Good morning to you Miss Myrcella,” Rodrick greeted her, “You see the game last night?”

“You’ve known me for four years,” she noted, “When in all of that time have I ever seen the game?”

He chuckled, “There was that one time in 2018.”

“Oh no, I totally lied about that,” she assured him, shrugging, “I wanted you to think I was cool.” She then looked around the empty lobby, “No Miss Stark?”

He grimaced, “Not yet. Traffic is back though, folks still aren’t used to it.”

She nodded, picking at a non-existent thread on her dress and looked around. Her eyes narrowed in on something and she crossed the lobby and picked up a tiny scrap of paper, crumbling it in her hand and then walking back over and tossing it in the trash behind Roddy’s desk.

“I’ve been sitting here for two hours, didn’t see it,” he noted.

She smiled, “Well you’ve been doing less important things like making sure no one robs the place.”

He opened his mouth to say something to her but then his gaze was directed behind her, “I’m sorry, sir, we don’t open until 11 o’clock on Tuesdays.”

“I sort of have an appointment,” the man said.

She knew that voice. She’d heard it before. In a coat closet at Alys Karstark’s birthday party. At the next table over at a charity even in 2019. Deep, stubbornly Northern, as unyielding as Valyrian steel.

She felt her palms sweat and forced herself not to rub them on her dress, rubbing them together instead and then turning around with a bright smile.

“You’re not Sansa Stark,” she greeted him.

He grinned sheepishly, though she wasn’t sure this man had ever had occasion to be sheepish in his entire life, “Afraid not. Myrcella, right? We met at that thing – that um… save the…whatsits.”

She giggled, and she heard the sound echoing garishly on the marble, “I believe that evening we were saving the seals. Or the… tulips, maybe.”

His smile spread slowly across his face, a dimple marking its end like an exclamation point, “Well we did our part even if we can’t remember what it was, I’m Robb Stark.”

She liked that he introduced himself. He’d done so every time they’d met, as though he in no way expected her to remember him. Sansa had done it the first five or so. Must have been how they were raised.

On the other hand, she’d been raised to act as though someone was foolish for not knowing who she was, introducing herself had been something she’d had to learn when she moved north, like parallel parking and salting her stoop.

Her hand extended and his met it, taking hers in his larger one and shaking it firmly as he looked her in the eyes briefly and then her lips slightly longer before purposefully going back to her eyes, “Myrcella Baratheon, and I remember you, Mr. Stark.”

“Well if that were true you’d remember I prefer Robb,” he noted, releasing her hand.

She shrugged, leaning forward conspiratorially, “Old habits. Can I get you something to drink before we begin our tour?”

“No thank you, I’m fine,” he shook his head.

She nodded, “Well it’s beautiful out now, why don’t we start in the botanical gardens. There’s been a bumper crop this year, we recently had the Cerwyn wedding here, did you attend?”

He fell into step next to her and said, “No, I didn’t. I was meant to but they reduced it to just family.”

She nodded, “Right, seems to be happening quite a bit. Will you do the same for your wedding?”

He stopped walking briefly and before she could stop too he had started again, “No… uh, rather than reduce the guest list we decided not to have it at all. We called the engagement off in January.”

“I’m so sorry!” she internally stabbed herself in the throat, “I didn’t know.”

He shrugged, “The nice thing about there not being any events over the past year is that the press didn’t really get wind of it.” Then stopped abruptly, “Not that… it’s not like that makes up for the past year or anything.”

She laughed, “Don’t worry, I know what you meant. I am sorry though, about your engagement.”

“As am I,” he agreed, “But it’s for the best. We parted as friends. Had we gotten married, I’m not sure we could have done so, so I’m grateful for that, and for her.”

A gentleman.

So many men played the part. Opening doors, buying flowers. So few of them realized that manners mattered very little when they were offered without grace.

“That’s lovely,” she noted, pleased for once not to have to lie.

It was a gorgeous day, a perfect seventy-nine degrees and clear blue skies. As though they’d understood the importance of the occasion, the Phlox stood proudly in battle formation and the scent of honeysuckle surrounded them.

“Sansa wanted me to apologize for missing your meeting,” Robb noted.

“I hope nothing’s the matter?” she asked.

A grin overtook his face, “No nothing at all. She’s in labor.”

She smiled, grabbing his forearm briefly. They both looked down at her hand on it and she pulled it back as gingerly as she could.

“That’s wonderful,” she told him, “Her second, right?”

He nodded, “A girl. And I’ve convinced her out of the name Corona.”

She chuckled, “Oh come now, you could call her Corrie for short.”

“And her parents idiots for long,” he noted. Then told her, “They weren’t really going to call her Corona.”

She smiled, “And here I was about to tip off the press…”

He smirked, “Narrow miss, then.” He looked around, “So. Flowers.”

“Not just flowers,” she pointed out, “We have a community garden to the left and down that lane local beekeepers keep their hives.”

“My mistake,” he allowed with a close-lipped smile.

That smile annoyed her. It was the same one she’d heard in the voice of every southern donor she’d called when they’d offered her good luck with her little country museum.

It was the smile someone gave her when she’d already lost.

“Perhaps we should go inside,” she noted, “I can show you our contemporary wing which we’ve recently devoted to elevating female and underrepresented artists. Or perhaps that’s a bit too avant-garde for you. Would you like to see our hall of armor and weaponry? I believe we have a few pieces that your ancestors left on one battlefield or another.”

“I’m sorry,” he noted, rubbing his jaw, “I told Sansa we should just cancel this meeting but she insisted.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Stark –“

“Robb,” he corrected her.

“No, I’m addressing Mr. Stark right now,” she argued, all of the frustration and helplessness of the past few months bubbling up inside of her, “May I ask what exactly it is about this that you find amusing? Is it the painting that we’re going to have to sell so that it can end up in someone’s climate controlled storage unit and never looked at again? Or is it the leaky roof? Perhaps the pay cut we asked all senior employees to take? Or how about the summer interns who had gone through a rigorous hiring process only to be told we couldn’t take them on at all? I certainly hope it’s not the seniors who used to come here for their Saturday afternoon watercolor classes which we had to cancel because we didn’t have anything to pay the instructor even though it would have been the perfect activity for them because it is outdoors and safe. Or maybe it’s the after-school programs you find so laughable…”

“I’m not laughing,” he pointed out. “But you’ll forgive me if I take your righteousness with a grain of salt.”

“I’m not sure that I will, actually,” she argued.

“No?” he asked, “Well let’s talk about those seniors? Don’t you think that funding is better spent ensuring they have free and safe access to the vaccination that can actually save their lives? Or what about those kids? Sure, the after-school program is great, but how about providing computers to allow them to do remote learning? Now I’m sorry if you have to lose one of a thousand paintings in this place, but if money can be better spent giving people what they really need then I’m sorry – sell the damn thing.”

That was hard to argue with.

But not impossible.

“So you’ve drained your coffers?” she asked.

There was only room for one of them on the moral high ground and she’d always enjoyed the view.

His cheeks had turned blotchy in anger but they paled now, “Excuse me?”

“Are you in the red?” she asked, “Declaring bankruptcy? Let’s not go that far - Taking out loans? Leveraging assets?”

His jaw clenched, revealing a muscle in his left cheek that might have been attractive if she wasn’t about to rip his head off.

“No,” he noted, “But my family’s company and my family have given an exceptional amount this year already.”

“Well,” she pointed out, “It has been an exceptional year already.”

“Are you always this haughty with potential donors?” he asked, stepping ever so slightly closer to her.

A flash in her mind of his hand ghosting across the back of her neck as he secured her coat over her shoulders. That smell.

“Never,” she admitted, stepping ever so slightly towards him, “But you’re not a potential donor, are you? And tell me, is it really because you don’t think it’s worthwhile or because it doesn’t sound worthwhile?”

His face contorted in anger, “You think we’re giving so that people will write songs about us? We want this country back on its feet. We want to return to normal and if we can’t do that, we want to make sure to give people as comfortable an existence until it reverts on its own. Tell me, Miss Baratheon, can you actually find fault in that?”

She shook her head, “No, I can’t.” He looked surprised and she shrugged, “It’s a flawless argument. Just an incomplete one. Giving an exceptional amount right now isn’t enough. You have to give until it hurts, because you can. It is wonderful, exceptional, heroic, to be doing all that you have done so far. But what comes next? What comes after? What happens when the dust settles? When things open? When we get things under control? What happens when people are ready to return to what was before and none of it is left because it wasn’t deemed essential. Because it’s just flowers and amateur beekeepers and pretty watercolors? I understand that we are not on the top of the list and we shouldn’t be. But we should be on the list. We need to do more than survive, Robb. There are things apart from us that we need to endure. Things we need to protect.”

His mouth twitched at that.

“I’m sorry to say I don’t have time to see the armor,” he told her.

She felt the defeat trickle through her veins slowly.

She held out her hand, “Thank you for letting me rant at you.”

He shook it once again, narrowing his eyes at her, “Something tells me you’ve still got some left in the tank. I’d quite like to hear it. Have dinner with me tonight and convince me.”

It was happening to all of her girlfriends. After a year in isolation, their ability to detect a creep from a mile away had withered. She hadn’t thought that hers had too. He’d seemed like one of the good ones.

She pulled her hand away, “That’s not the way I do business, Mr. Stark.”

His eyes widened in horror, “No, that’s not what I meant. I don’t get to make these decisions.”

“You’re the CEO,” she pointed out.

“Yes I am but Sansa insisted on inserting a clause into her contract that she gets final say over any philanthropic decisions,” he sighed, “I literally am not even allowed to choose the location of a book drive.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at that, a tiny bit of hope bubbling inside of her, “So when you said you should have cancelled the meeting…”

“It’s because Sansa’s already decided that we will be giving a donation, she wanted to discuss the structure of it with you – you know whether you’d prefer a lump sum, or whether you want it in increments, if you wanted it to be public to inspire other donors or whether you wanted it to be private so that they couldn’t use it as an excuse not to give…” he waved his hand, “She’s better at the specifics and I’m sure she’ll be calling you in between contractions to fine tune them.”

She laughed, “Please tell her not to. A pledge is more than enough to take to my board, we can map out the nitty gritty whenever she or whomever will be replacing her in the interim has time.”

He nodded, “You’ll have them within the week.”

She was about to thank him but the words caught in her mouth, “So wait a second… did you just wind me up for the sake of it?”

He grinned, a chuckle present in his voice though it hadn’t yet broken, “I’d like to point out that it took very little to wind you up.”

She laughed, because he was right and admitted, “It’s been a tough year.”

He nodded, “For everyone. So, now that you know I have absolutely no control and can hold absolutely nothing over you… have dinner with me.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I enjoy arguing with you,” he told her, then grinned sheepishly, “And because I lied. Sansa told me that I could cancel the meeting and I insisted on coming because I wanted to see you. The bad thing about this year is that there were no events where I could have a chance of bumping into you…”

“Oh that’s the bad thing about this year?” she asked.

“Well,” he grinned, then did a scarily good impression of her, “Maybe it shouldn’t be at the top of the list, but it should be on the list.”

[ragingbookdragon]

You Can Take Off All My Clothes And Never See Me Naked PT. 6

A Haytham Kenway x Reader Story

Word Count: 3,200 Warnings: Explicit Language, Mentions of Past Abuse

Author’s Note: This chapter does go deep into the past abuse, so if that’s triggering, please be advised and be responsible. -Thorne

Haytham…was conflicted. Which wasn’t something he was too keen on telling anyone, let alone admitting to himself—he was a rather proud man. Feelings of the heart—love, which he even dreaded thinking about it—were not something he was truly accustomed to following.

           He’d not had any dalliances nor anything deeper since leaving Ziio and while he knew he’d never forget her, he couldn’t help but feel the same deep longing when he thought of (Y/N), the desire to hold her.

           Regardless of the fact that their social standings proved error, she was about as tight lipped about herself and her feelings as a miser’s purse during tax season. She was temperamental and found herself in deeper situations than she realized, partially in anger, the other part—well, it was mostly anger. She was snippy and used so much profanity that Haytham was surprised she hadn’t been struck by biblical lightning.

           But she was smart, absolutely, phenomenally intelligent, and could bounce theories with him back and forth for hours, pointing out every little instance of error and correcting it—(Y/N) was really the reason they’d conquered the gang-headquarters so easily, and increased trade-route with southern merchants. She could read and speak at least four different languages, from what Haytham had inconspicuously spied her doing so, and found that she gathered more information from drunk patrons than any of his top informants. She was broad-minded, which made him smile as he remembered the way she took Charles down six or seven pegs when she mentioned the Cherokee and Creek tribes. He’d never admit it, but the anger that had filled her and righteously come out towards his second-in-command filled him with great desire for her. He almost felt juvenile for even thinking about it. Foolish, is how he really felt.

           And she was beautiful. Not because she took special care of her appearance—she did, but that wasn’t what Haytham meant—but because she simply was. She hid every aspect of herself that she could, her personality, her life, even her soul. And while Haytham couldn’t claim to be the most open person, even he was more so than (Y/N). He briefly wondered if his attraction to her was the result of her obscurity. Did he genuinely feel attraction to her? Or was he just enticed by her secrets? By the dark shadows that lurked behind her eyes, holding tight to an equally dark past? Haytham had the feeling that her past was just as dark as hers, and from the little pieces she’d shared, the scar, the betrayal, perhaps worse.

           He heaved a sigh and rubbed his eyes, waiting for the spots to disappear before he opened them once more. When he did, she was before him, a cocked eyebrow high on her forehead.

           “That was quite a sigh.” She remarked. “Everything alright, Haytham?”

           He almost smiled at how easily she used his name now but forced himself to frown. “I’m fine, (Y/N). Simply tired.”

           “Probably wouldn’t kill you to take the day off,” she said, collapsing into the seat before his desk. “Or days.” Her eyes shown with humor. “All work and no play makes dull boys. Isn’t that what they say?”

           Haytham chuckled. “Something along those lines.” He flicked a piece of paper her way, watching as she picked it up and read it. “Truthfully, that’s what I’m dreading.”

           (Y/N) glanced up at him. “I shouldn’t be surprised that the elite are holding a ball during a war, and yet, I am.” She tossed the invitation back onto the desk and crossed one of her legs over the other. “Are you required to go?”

           “Not required,” He said, and she filled in for him.

           “But bad manners and image on you if you don’t.” He nodded and she hummed. “So, what’s the deal? All you have to do is go, say hello, spend an hour, and then leave?”

           He allowed himself a rare moment of complaint, lolling his head back onto the chair. “That’s the deal. I don’t want to spend an hour talking to uptight colonists.”

           “This coming from the ‘King of The Uptight Gentries’, himself?” (Y/N) deadpanned and Haytham’s head snapped up as he glared at her; she waved it off. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Haytham, but—”

           “I don’t understand why people say don’t take this the wrong way, and then say something that is usually taken the wrong way.” He remarked and she rolled her eyes.

           “Well if you don’t act like a pissbaby about it, you’ll be okay.” Again, she ignored his glaring eyes. “So, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re an uptight asshole who’s arrogant around people who aren’t of the same social standing that you are.” His jaw dropped. “You think that people who are of lower classes aren’t really worth your time and that’s why you think attending a ball of the colonies is a pain in your ass—because you’re of the gentry and they think they’re better than everyone else.” (Y/N) simply wore a satisfied expression. “And that’s why all your friends are also uptight assholes.”

           Haytham felt like he’d been slapped, and he could feel the heat creeping up the back of his neck and across his cheeks—she definitely saw it because she grinned.

           “Aw, are you embarrassed?” (Y/N) huffed a laugh. “I’m not surprised. You’re not the type to get insulted with the truth very often.”

           “I am not embarrassed.” He countered, though his flustered appearance and voice did little to convince her.

           She leaned forward and hit him with a barrage of commands. “Then look me in my eyes and tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they were a servant or a maid. Tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they didn’t have shoes on their feet and were begging for money or food.” Her eyes narrowed almost sadly, and she murmured, “Tell me you’ve never disregarded someone because they weren’t fortunate like you, and born into a wealthy, high-class family that never wanted for anything.”

           “I—” he couldn’t manage anything and it had been a long time since Haytham felt any form of shame, but as he lowered his head and frowned, he felt it searing through his chest with a fury.

           “You’re a good person, Haytham.” His head shot up and he met her eyes, though they held a heavy bearing. “But for all the good you do for the upper-class…you’ve still got a long way to go with the little people.” (Y/N) rose from her seat and headed for the door.

           Something in his mind screamed at him to stop her and he called, “(Y/N), wait.” She turned, waiting for him, and he confessed, “I…have yet to find a partner to attend with me.” He tried for a smile. “Would you do me the honor of attending with me?”

           A rare smile crossed her lips, and it made his heart thump wildly in his ribcage. “I shall.” She spun on her heel and opened the door.

           “I’ll have a dress ready for you!” he added, and she simply waved a hand in response.

           When the door shut, Haytham collapsed into his chair and breathed, “Oh god, what have I done?”

***

           He smiled politely at every couple that passed and while his composure gave off the feeling of full confidence, inside, Haytham was a mess. (Y/N) hadn’t shown up yet, and he felt like a fool waiting around for her. He briefly wondered if she was standing him up. And while he wouldn’t put it past her—because it was something she would absolutely do—he felt like she would’ve at least sent a note before it. He let out an inaudible sigh and the ladylike giggle from behind him nearly sent him a foot in the air. He spun and he followed up an elegant navy-blue gown adorned with glittering jewels; he felt like he’d been shot.

           (Y/N) stood there with a coy smile, the gown tailored perfectly to her. “Lord Haytham, if I may be so bold, it’s almost as if you’ve never seen a woman before.”

           His mouth opened and closed like a fish and he blurted out, “You look beautiful.”

           She pressed a hand to her chest, toying with the ribbon at her décolleté, “I feel I should’ve known this was the color you’d choose.” She took his arm and squeezed his bicep. “Navy Blue is your signature color.”

           Haytham swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “It’s always been an easy color to request.”

           (Y/N) laughed delicately and whispered, “Liar.” She nodded to the doors. “Do be a gentleman and escort me.”

           He snapped his mouth shut to prevent any more embarrassing statements and did as she said. As they neared them, he murmured, “I can help you when you need it when dealing with the elite. Some things might be—”

           “I know how to act like a lady, Haytham.” Her words were short and clipped and they booked no room for questions, but something in the way her jaw set told Haytham that she’d learned etiquette in a less than pleasing way.

           “As you say,” he replied and tipped his head at the guards stationed at the doors.

           They walked inside and immediately he could feel the eyes of the room on him, and gauging (Y/N)’s reaction, she could too. But she merely smiled and batted her eyelashes as they passed the other attendees.

           She gracefully plucked two champagne chutes from a servant’s tray and handed one to Haytham. “Here,” she hummed, taking a sip of her own.

           He accepted it with a quiet, ‘thank you’, and raised it to his lips. It was light, bubbly, and pleasant to the palate and as it went down his throat, he looked to her. Her eyes inconspicuously drifted from the patrons of the ball, sometimes lingering on people she seemed to know, others she didn’t.

           “Anyone catch you eye, (Y/N)?” It came off more teasing than he’d meant, and she chuckled.

           “Why? Are you jealous, Haytham?” She stared into his steel eyes. “Afraid to lose to a colonial man?”

           His jaw twitched and a flash of indignation came across him, but not at her—rather the thought of some other man taking his place.

           A woman appeared from the side and practically squealed. “(Y/N)!”

           She turned her head, face brightening at the woman in the lavender gown. “Grace!” (Y/N) pulled away from Haytham and he almost made a noise of complaint at the loss of contact. She hugged the woman before pulling away, looking her up and down. “Look at you! You look absolutely wonderful!”

           Grace flipped her long golden hair. “Well, it’s all thanks to you!” Her green eyes shifted to Haytham and she nudged (Y/N) in the ribs; a flash of pain crossed her face and Haytham almost asked about it. “Who’s this handsome fellow you’re with?”

           (Y/N) shushed her. “Grace!” The woman giggled and she sighed. “He’s my boss.” She turned and held out her hand to Haytham. “Grace, meet Haytham Kenway. Haytham, this is an old friend of mine, Grace Montgomery.”

           Haytham took Grace’s hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, a charming smile on his lips as he greeted her. “A pleasure to meet you, Lady Montgomery.”

           Grace giggled like a schoolgirl causing (Y/N) to roll her eyes. “The pleasure’s mine, Mister Kenway.” She looked at (Y/N). “If I wasn’t married to my Isaac, I’d be beating you away with a stick.”

           (Y/N) couldn’t fight the rather unladylike cackle that left her, and she quipped, “You and every other available bachelorette in the colonies.”

           The women laughed and Grace looked at Haytham. “Mister Kenway, I hope you’ll allow me to steal (Y/N) away for a few moments. Isaac and I owe her a lot, and we’d love to catch up with her.”

           Haytham saw a colleague coming his way in his peripheral and he smiled. “Of course. Please, enjoy your time.” He met (Y/N)’s eyes and winked, watching her turn away quickly, but with a smile.

***Later That Evening***

           For a master of observation and tracking, Haytham was absolutely clueless about where (Y/N) had gone. She’d made a game of catching his eye the entire night and sending him flirtatious smiles—at least, that’s what he hoped they were. But somehow, she’d managed to lose his watchful gaze and disappear into almost thin air.

           He inconspicuously looked around for her, not wanting anyone to know a man had lost his partner, god forbid anyone ask where she was. Haytham passed the balcony and stopped, catching sight of the familiar navy-blue gown billowing in the wind.

           He walked up behind her and leaned on the railing beside her. “Long night?” he asked.

           (Y/N) didn’t look at him, but a grin crossed her lips. “A lot of smiling and ass-kissing.” Her eyes drifted to the rose garden below them and she offered, “Care for a stroll in the gardens?”

           Haytham rose and held his hand out, watching her set hers in it. They ignored the looks people gave them and descended the stairs into the garden, finding refuge in the arch.

           She sat on the bench, Haytham beside her and she looked up at the sky. “It’s beautiful out here.”

           “It is,” he responded, but his eyes were on her. He watched her raise a hand to her ribs and gently prod the area. “Is something the matter?”

           (Y/N) glanced over then down at her hand. “Oh, no. I recently got a tattoo and I—”

           “A tattoo?!” Haytham’s voice reeked of incredulity.

           She rolled her eyes. “I take it you’re a tattoo-virgin, then?”

           He almost recoiled at being called a virgin of anything. “I’ve scars all across my body, but no…no tattoos.”

           “They’re not that bad.” (Y/N) shrugged. “It’s sore, but nothing serious.”

           “What is it?” Haytham asked, cheeks reddening, and he cursed himself at such delinquent thoughts running through his brain.

           “A sun and a moon.”

           “May I ask why those symbols?”

           (Y/N) met his eyes. “To remind me that with the night comes the day.” He eyes went to the stars. “That there is hope for tomorrow.”

           “That’s a beautiful sentiment, (Y/N).” he murmured.

           She huffed lightly. “Feels a bit childish.”

           “It’s not.”

           She looked over and smiled heartfully. “Thank you.” He tipped his head in acknowledgement.

           They lapsed into a peaceful silence and over time, their hands had drifted together, thumbs brushing the backs of them.

           (Y/N) let her eyes fall to the ground. “It covers the scar below my left breast.” She felt his eyes on her but refused to look at him. “In fact, it’s not a scar at all…but a brandmark.” (Y/N) heard his sharp intake of breath and she stood, suddenly feeling cramped.

           She took a few steps away and leaned against the opposite arch, gazing out at the cityscape. “I received it when I couldn’t pay back the ‘time and resources’ he’d poured into me.” Her fingers dug into her side and the pain relieved her tension. “I was beaten and abused…humiliated and assaulted.” The tears felt hot coming down her cheeks. “For fifteen years, I lived in hell.”

           “How’d you escape?”

           (Y/N) looked over her shoulder; Haytham had stood and begun walking in an arc to stand on the other side of the arch. “I wasn’t the only girl there. There were others.”

           “A harem then?”

           She nodded. “Of sorts.” (Y/N) let out a heavy breath and wiped her cheeks. “A woman named Na’ilah trained me to fight. With my body, with weapons, with anything I could hold.” She met Haytham’s gaze. “We planned for two years to escape but…someone found out and told.”

           “You obviously got out.” Haytham recognized.

           “I did.” She nodded. “Na’ilah had managed to send message to a merchant’s boat. The guards appeared as we were boarding.” (Y/N)’s face twisted painfully. “Na’ilah threw me up to the sailors and told them to go. She…stayed behind to fight the guards off.”

           “Did she succeed?” he asked.

           “She did,” (Y/N) answered with pride. “She saw me off with a tearful smile and I never saw her again.” She looked at him. “I was twenty-five. I had no money, nothing to my name, and nowhere to go, but somehow I managed to get to the colonies and from there on I’ve…” she sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping. “I’ve managed to survive.”

           Haytham stood up from his leaned position and held out his hand to her. She took it. “How many have you told your story to?”

           (Y/N) scoffed. “That I haven’t killed afterwards?” He didn’t say anything, and she lowered her eyes. “You’re the only one.”

           “Truly?”

           Her eyes shot to him and she scowled. “It’s not exactly something I find I enjoy reminiscing about, Haytham.”

           He shook his head. “I meant no disrespect, (Y/N).” He met her gaze. “I just assumed you’d found someone to tell.”

           “Haytham, I’ve built a life on killing men who abuse women like I was. I’ve never really found time to tell people my life story.”

           “And yet, you’ve told me.” His words were soft, and he stepped to her, free hand coming to rest on her cheek, warm and gentle.

           (Y/N) narrowed her gaze, but it wasn’t with suspicion, rather fondness. “And yet I’ve told you.”

           Haytham’s heart grieved for her, for her pain, but with it came the urge to protect her. To keep her from ever feeling harm again. The indignation from earlier came back and with a harsh thump to his ribcage, he finally found himself admitting it—he was irrevocably in love with (Y/N).

           “(Y/N), I want to—”

           His words were cut off by the brush rustling and they split like they’d been burned, eyes narrowing suspiciously at the intrusion. A boot stepped out and (Y/N) picked up the concrete vase, raising it in defense. Someone turned the corner, and she felt her arms go slack.

           “Shay?”

           The Irishman smiled, but it dropped when he saw the vase. “Oh my god, were you going to hit me with that?”

           “I mean—I don’t know!” (Y/N) gestured to him. “What the hell are you doing here?” She set the vase back down and he turned to face Haytham as well.

           “We’ve got a bit of a situation, sir. We need you both.” The two looked at one another and Shay smirked. “Were you two having a moment?”

           Their heads snapped to him and they both snapped, “No!” They met eyes and laughed, and Shay rolled his eyes, spinning on his heel.

           “Yeah, yeah, and I’m the Queen of England.”

           (Y/N) glared at the back of his head and hiked her dress up, kicking him in the rear as hard as she could. “Yeah, and with hair like that, you’d pass!”

           Shay howled and turned on her. “That wasn’t nice!”

           “I’m not nice, Shay! I’m a bitch!”

           He scowled at her. “If my father didn’t teach me to respect women, I’d agree with you, but I won’t.”

           Haytham watched the two of them as they bickered, but his eyes kept drifting to (Y/N)’s face and all he felt was warmth spreading though him.

[green-angst-and-ham]

Pepperony Medieval au when Tony was bastard son of Lord Stark and Blacksmith and Pepper would noble's daughter

Anon, I am so very, very sorry it took me so incredibly long to answer this. As I explained in my last post, there were some...technical issues. (Also I’m a moron). Anyway, I hope this is worth the wait! This is my first prompt fill, and I’m still sort of getting a feel for writing these characters, so definitely let me know if anything feels weird or OOC. To the two lovely people still waiting on me to fill their prompts, those will definitely be coming shortly, now that I’ve gotten my act together.

There were very few things for which Lord Anthony Edward Stark would risk the wrath of his father. But those few things were well worth the risk, as Tony reminded himself each time he veered his horse off the beaten trail and into the thick woods surrounding the Potts family manor.

He abandoned his horse the moment he came within sight of the castle; the stealthier he could be, the longer this great secret was likely to be kept. And keeping it was of the utmost importance. Not so much for his own sake,  but for hers. He was a bastard son with a poor reputation and far more enemies than friends; he had little left to lose no matter what he was caught doing. But she was a lady of quality, heiress of all her father’s lands, and the world they lived in tended to place far more fault on a woman’s shoulders than a man’s in any situation, regardless of who was truly to blame.

A risk. It was a risk, but it was a risk worth far more than most, and their hearts would not allow them not to take it.

There was no candle burning in her window, nor had he expected there to be. After all, it was not as if he could tell her when to expect his visits, and though he often stayed up late into the night, carried away on some wild idea, Lady Pepper Potts had always been more...practical. Which was why neither of them had ever expected to be where they were now, six months into a secret romance that would spell nothing but trouble for them both if ever they were found out.

After a moment’s deliberation, Tony bent down and picked up a few small pebbles. Taking careful aim, he let one fly at the wooden window-frame. Then another, and another. “Oh, honestly,” said an exasperated voice from within the room as the third pebble struck home, and Tony grinned. A moment later, the flickering flame of a candle lit up the black square of the window, and Pepper, with a cloak thrown hastily around her shoulders and her red hair disheveled, stepped out onto the parapet, shaking her head when she saw him.

“Throwing rocks, Tony? Truly, that’s how you choose to wake me?”

“It’s romantic!” Tony protested. “I saw it in a new play a week ago, some sentimental tragedy that had the whole audience weeping when the young lovers died at the end.”

Pepper raised an eyebrow. “The last time you came, you compared the two of us to Lancelot and Guinevere. Must you always liken our love to a story that ends in a disastrous early death? Because it’s hardly comforting.”

“Well, in all fairness, I doubt my father would go quite that far. Although, I admit, there are some days when I wouldn’t chance it.”

He saw her pass a hand over her mouth and knew she was trying to hide a smile. He had long since ceased talking of his father with any sort of respect, but Pepper had been brought up with better manners. She never shied from criticizing Lord Stark, but she was at least a little more tactful about it. “Come up here, you rogue,” she said, half-laughing and trying to pretend she wasn’t, “before someone hears you talking like that.”

Tony needed no second invitation. Nor did he need a rope or any other sort of aid to reach the window; the Potts castle was old, and the stones stuck out in various places. He had made this climb often enough that he knew exactly where every foothold was, and he could be quick and quiet about his forbidden visits. She was sitting on the bed when he stepped lightly through the window, braiding her long red hair. He sat down beside her, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ve missed you,” he said, because he always said that.

“So have I,” she answered. “You haven’t come in quite some time.”

“My father took it into his head to make himself even more unpleasant than usual over the past few weeks. I’ve had to be...cautious.”

She pursed her lips and folded her hands together in that prim, demure way that fooled everyone but him into thinking she was just another ladylike lord’s daughter. “You know I don’t like to speak ill of anyone, Tony, but men like your father make the word “nobleman” quite ill-fitting. There’s nothing noble about him.”

“There was once,” Tony said, almost to himself. She looked at him, her eyes questioning in the candlelight, and he shook off the brief moment of solemnity. He had little time with her as it was; he would not waste it with thoughts of the man who only grudgingly allowed himself to be called Father. “Besides, we won’t have to worry about him forever, my sweet.”

That was another thing he always said, at some point or another, during these visits. And she knew what it meant. “You’ve been scheming again.”

“Not scheming, Pepper. Dreaming. I was hardly born into a high place in the world, you know that. If I am to have one, I’ll have to earn it myself. Make myself someone great. So great that we would no longer have to hide our love, because no one would dare say anything about it. And I can do it, too, in time. I know I can. I’ve almost perfected a new sword-blade, something that makes steel look like parchment-“

He was speaking more loudly now, the way he did when he allowed himself to be carried away into the future he imagined for the two of them, the future he would build with his own hands. He needed nothing from his father, not his name, not his money, not his approval. He already had what he needed. A brilliant mind, clever hands, and a woman who saw the heart beneath it all.

“Someday, Tony,” she said softly, laying a hand on his arm. “For now, better a secret than nothing at all.”

“Sometimes I wonder if it’s still a secret,” he said, turning back to her and once again shaking off his somber thoughts. “Or if they’ve all noticed our incredibly obvious feelings for one another and are just waiting for us to come out with it so they can reveal we’re not as stealthy as we think we are.”

She shook her head in exasperation, but she was smiling. “For a man so brilliant, my dear Lord Stark, you certainly do talk like a fool sometimes.”

“Which is only to be expected, my dear Lady Potts, for I’m a man in love. Men in love are always fools.”