#kind of want to maybe shave my beard so i can present in a more feminine way

[daz4i]

my gender rn is i will sometimes describe myself as a girl or woman (or use לשון נקבה in hebrew here and there) but if anyone did that to me i will physically assault them

[orkbutch]

my b if this comes off weird but you’re a cool butch so i thought maybe you’d have some insightful thoughts about what to say to a baby butch who isn’t confident they’ll ever look like anything more than a baby faced twink.

You're gonna get a kind of delirious ramble for this one sorry bud. idk if you're talking about yourself or someone else you want to support, but ... the idea of a "baby faced twink" butch isn't really rooted in what butches look like imo! Older butches tend to be everyone's icons, and age weathers your face; a lot of the handsome older butches we look up to were "baby faced". They were still cool butches when they were young. When I shave my beard I look babyfaced. If you want a beard, get on the T and see what happens I guess, but that isn't what makes a butch at all. Lots of butches have soft/round faces, small or delicate features, ect. I'm gonna be talking very much from my own view and experience here, but for me my butchness is about attitude. That has to do with how you dress, how you treat people and your own confidence. Dress cool, feel cool. Clothing and presentation is a big part of butch identity because it gives a powerful kick of confidence that underlies a lot of butch attitude. The confidence to wear whatever you want, regardless of how that makes you look in wider society. The confidence to take masculinity and make it your own, and disregard the hang ups men have about their height or strength or how chiseled their features are. Thats man shit. Don't let yourself buy into it too much. I know it feels like everyone else is so you kinda have to, but there's gonna be plenty of people that recognize your butchness without that shit. I think, truly, confidence and trusting yourself are huge parts of being butch. FEELING yourself. Every butch I've seen that people find particularly sexy/admireable are kinda smug. That's butch swagger, an underlying self-assurance, leaning into your own coolness and masculinity. Not to an off putting level, just a little. There are lots of ways to build your confidence! Focus on the responsibilities you have that you handle. Do shit that makes you feel good. Admire parts of your body that you enjoy. I like weight lifting for that - its helpful that it happens to give you muscles eventually, but even just the act of doing it fills me with a cocky confidence that feeds my butch masculinity. It makes me feel masc and hot. Same with cooking a beautiful meal for a date, or putting together a great outfit.

When I'm on my leathers, I feel peak butch. I feel hot, I feel strong, its like armour. I put it on and I become a certain version of myself. I look cool, I feel cool. It genuinely changes how I think. For me, butchness is both my identity and a form of gender play. Its something I can suit up for it, and when I take the suit off im still A Butch, but I'm not Doing Butchness. Doing Butchness is vital for feeling grounded and connected to being butch, though. Even though they're different, they're interconnected and important.

anyway. thats my butch ramble (i had a red bull and am on 0 meds so its very chaotic)

[foxboyclit]

im coming up on my 2 year t-aversarry so here's some assorted feelings on that (put under a cut because i didnt expect it to get this long oops)

first off, im hoping i don't get sick again so i can actually have a tea party to celebrate. even if its a little after the actual date i wanna do something

it looks like i cant grow anything more than some light whiskers but i never wanted a huge lumberjack beard anyway and i still get to shave regularly which is very euphoric. im a little disappointed though because ive always wanted a full beard

body hairs been really good though! its filled out nicely on my arms and legs and i have a full happy trail i am so so happy about that

my doctor said she noticed my shoulders had gotten more broad, which ive heard wasn't possible but apparently it is! and i see it myself too. she said i have more of an inverted triangle shape now, and it makes sense because ive noticed my hips shrink significantly. now apparently i wasn't very curvy to begin with but dysphoria makes me see things that aren't as prominent i guess

its also almost a year since my period stopped and i feel so much better having my emotions and energy levels at a constant state. i never have to think about whether i forgot to bring pads i haven't had cramps in MONTHS it's wonderful. i will say, ive noticed cis women are more comfortable talking about their periods around me and it's a mixed bag of emotions. im glad i give off that vibe that it's okay to talk about it but i feel bad saying "yeah im glad mine stopped" or "this is what i used to go through" which is the most i can relate to now so im kind of...sad? to not be able to talk about it? but also when i did menstruate i hated talking about it to anyone other than like. two specific people. idk

my voice is leveling out more, it still cracks but not as much as it did i feel like just a few months ago? still not where i want it but im getting closer and i love when my voice cooperates and is deeper without those cracks. ive gotten compliments on my voice too when i use my lower register! idk if the majority of people read it as masculine or even androgynous but i like compliments

still getting constantly misgendered, no matter what im wearing but im used to it. at least all my family, friends and coworkers respect my pronouns

ive been dressing a lot more feminine than i anticipated. but im having fun with it! its okay if im actually more feminine presenting than fluid like i previously thought. but also i could have another big swing in the opposite direction. i feel comfortable and stylish either way so im welcoming whatever changes

the gender fuckery of facial hair, flat chest and skirt has been *chefs kiss*

my t levels are on par with cis men! just knowing that makes me smile. estrogen is still high but it wasnt a concern with the doctor so im mostly okay with it

my libidos leveled out nicely, it's still a lot higher than before t but its not as intense as when i first started. adjusting to it has been pretty easy and im happy with where it currently sits.

body acne has mostly gone away! and i haven't had any massive breakouts or changes in my skin!

i swear to god i went down at least a cup size. its been waiting for the right time to pursue top surgery a hell of a lot easier. i always felt like if i had a smaller chest i wouldnt necessarily need top surgery, and i still want it but im more content with my chest now

i think all in all ive had to adjust my expectations for how id look by now, maybe its the dosage or genetics or aforementioned high estrogen or it just hasn't been long enough but i always expected to look more masculine this far in. it's still something i have to deal with from time to time but ultimately im happy with my body and im more okay taking this slowly than i anticipated

i dont have a conclusion for this other than wow. testosterone is one hell of a drug

[equinoxts2]

Quin's 2024 Simming Goals

It's that time again! In 2024, I would like to:

- Enjoy playing my game! I want to be less of a perfectionist about my builds (when you hate building, being told constantly that your landscaping is beautiful just adds unnecessary pressure) and add a little more levity and whimsy back into Kulo Sena. I want to fall in love with my game again, be kinder to myself and remind myself that I play and create worlds for fun, not to get a zillion likes.

- Spread more love in the community. I intend to like and comment on other simmers' gameplay posts more, for one thing - I know a lot of simmers whose games I love and who don't get as much credit for playing/worldbuilding as they do for CC. I'd also like to send more spontaneous appreciation comments through anon asks. I do that already but you can never have too much random acts of kindness.

- Give more of my sims a chance to take centre stage in storylines. For one thing, I've noticed that male sims don't often get to shine in my game, although I am healing my gender scars (slowly). Also, most of the drama happens in the headwoman's and lorekeepers' households at present, so I'd like to shift the spotlight onto a few of the other sims.

- Still in two minds about whether to share either of my hoods that are not set in the Senaverse: my solo RPG party of characters as I imagine they might be ten years later, and what was originally intended to be a Plants vs. Zombies inspired legacy but is rapidly evolving into its own thing. I like having multiple things to play while I build, and I'm having so much fun with both!

- Remind everyone here, not just myself, that the old cliche "new year, new me" is not always the best logic to follow. Sure, I'll be making some changes in 2024 - shaving my head and growing a full beard, for one thing, and maybe getting a starry sunset tattoo or something - but I'm not doing either just because it's a new year, they're things I want to do for myself anyway. The current me is enough. The same is true of all of you, simblr friends. Love yourselves, because I sure do.

And on that note: Best wishes for the year ahead!

[workingforitallthetime]

trying my hardest to "#FOR MY FILES" this but raven boy/shane wright and also raven boy/mason mctavish. why does he have so many canadian bulldog shaped bfs. more importantly mason/shane and that picture of them cradling the u18 trophy. the vibes between them are completely undecipherable and also logical at the same time. i want more

all very important thoughts, anon. and pondering the vibes among those three has prompted me to write a little more into the single existing scene with mason and connor and shane that i have in my top secret raven boy files, and i will give that to you below the jump. contains no explicit material regarding minors but if anybody is squeamish about minors existing in an a/b/o world this probably isn't the WIP for you.

Wright starts shuffling the pizza boxes around, consolidating the spare slices into one box and stacking up the empties.

Guenther flicks his last hand of cards toward the center of the table. “Knock off the omega bullshit, Shane.”

“Fuck off.” Wright tries to close the lid of the overfilled box, jamming it down over the rest of the pizza. “I’m an alpha.”

The room’s too quiet, like all the sound’s been absorbed into the padded partitions that section off their quadrant of the hotel’s conference center. Guenther’s mean laugh breaks the silence. “Son, your balls haven’t even dropped yet.”

“I got tested,” Shane insists, indignant as everyone else around the table laughs. “They said my levels are super high.”

“That doesn’t mean shit.”

Privately, Mason agrees with Guenther. The genetic test is maybe 70 percent accurate before you present. Not worth paying for, his dad said. Said Mason could prove himself just fine without some bullshit lab report.

“Scouts care,” Shane mutters, and no one tries to tell him he’s wrong. They’ve all heard that a doctor signing off on an alpha prediction can be enough to bump you up a team’s draft board.

“Nobody knows, though.” Zelly flicks the edges of his cards through his fingers. He probably worries about it more than most of them do. He’s the kind of small skills guy who’s probably spending his draft year trying to prove he won’t turn out to be an omega. “It’s not like any of us are going to be MacKinnon.”

It was big news when MacKinnon presented early. Showed up at the combine reeking of alpha and everybody knew what Colorado was getting at first overall. Knocked Seth Jones right out of the top slot, even though eventually he turned out to be an alpha anyway. Most first rounders do. Although the ones who don’t usually come from the U.S. program like Jones did.

Zelly looks around the table in search of agreement, but everyone’s looking at Mason. Mason keeps his hand still, fighting the nervous instinct to rub his knuckles over his beard. He wishes he’d shaved after all. But he was winning when he left Switzerland, and he wants to keep winning here.

“You have got to be an alpha,” Guenther pronounces.

“Seriously,” Stanks agrees with him. Guys are nodding.

Two seats down from Mason, Connor isn’t. His face is impassive as always, hard to read. But he’s got an awkward set to his jaw with his lip curled back a little, same as he did on the bus from the airport when nobody wanted to talk to him. Mason’s starting to figure out how to read him. Or at least he can tell Connor fucking hates any topic that might remind somebody he’s fifteen years old.

“What do you care?” Mason leans back in his chair. “You lining up to suck my alpha dick?”

Guenther’s voice is loud over the laughter. “Wright might be.”

“Fuck off,” Shane snaps. It must be hard for the little robot to deal with something he can’t control. No matter how hard Shane tries to work hard and do the right thing and ace the genetic test, he can’t predict how he’s going to present. Mason’s never seen him get even the least bit rattled before. Usually Shane’s the guy you want talking to the refs. He’s a good captain. Nice to everyone, no special treatment for the guys he likes. You can’t even tell who he likes. Maybe he actually hates all of them.

“Okay, stack ‘em up.” Mason shoves his chair back from the table and slots his poker chips into the cardboard box without bothering to sort them. “I’m going to bed.”

Chips click together and someone gathers up the stray cards and shuffles the deck to put away. Guenther and Stanks start arguing about the pot for tomorrow night’s game. Mason picks up his water bottle and falls into step with Connor on the way to the elevator.

The awkward conversation lingers around them like a bad smell. Mason can’t think how to change the subject. Connor’s quiet next to him. He hits the elevator button with the base of his water bottle. The doors open and the up arrow chimes almost immediately.

They’re the only ones in the car. Connor leans back in one corner and lifts his feet off the floor, boosting himself up with his hands on the railing that runs around the edge of the elevator. “Can I ask…” One of his slides threatens to fall off his foot and he points his toes upward to catch it. He lowers his feet back to the floor. “Never mind.”

“No, what.” Mason’s pretty sure he knows what’s coming. He looks up at the floors ticking off on the panel. 

“You don’t have to tell me.” The elevator starts to slow.

“It’s okay.” The numbers stop at their floor. Mason slips his keycard out of his pocket and balances it on opposite corners between his thumb and forefinger 

“You didn’t say…” Just before the doors open, Connor finally spits it out. “Are you an alpha or what?”

“Shit, I don’t know.” The vestibule on their floor is empty except for a glass-topped table with a vase and a fanned-out set of magazines about things to do in Texas. The flowers in the vase might be fake. Mason can’t tell.

The ice machine rattles in its alcove as they pass. “You haven’t presented?”

“Don’t look so surprised.” Most people don’t present at eighteen. Every year there’s some group advocating to move draft eligibility back to age 20 or 21. It’s always based on some bullshit about growth curves and developmental years but everybody understands the real advantage for teams would be knowing more about what they’re getting, dynamic-wise.

“I don’t know.” Connor rolls his eyes. “You just look…” He waves his hand like Mason’s self-explanatory.

“It’s the beard, isn’t it?” Mason rubs his knuckles over it. He does like the beard.

Connor snorts. “Yeah, probably.”

“You love it.” Mason shoulders Connor into the wall next to the door of their room. “Maybe it’ll rub off on you.” He scrapes his jaw against the side of Connor’s face, feeling reckless and giddy. Connor yelps, startled, and hip-checks him out of the way. Mason stumbles sideways across the hall. He keeps getting surprised by the power stored in Connor’s short frame. He lunges back at him, jamming his chin against Connor’s cheek. “C’mon, get some beard.”

Connor shoves him away with both hands on Mason’s chest. “Dumbass,” he says, but the tense set to his jaw is gone. He might even be smiling.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

You’ve just passed the last hour wondering what kind of cake you want to buy, but when you open the door, you completely forget about it. You gape at the man in front of you.

It’s been ten years, but you know at once who he is. Weirdly, it’s the beard you recognize first. It’s perfectly trimmed as always. When you were a child, you’ve often watched him shave. He liked to say it gave him a look of gentleman adventurer. But that was the time when he was working at an office. The armor he has gives him a whole new appearance. In this plain street, it should look ridiculous, but it's not the case. He’s radiant.

And in his hands, there’s the biggest cake you’ve ever seen in your life. It’s no less than five-tier with elaborate icing. It’s so beautiful it doesn’t look like it’s eatable. It looks like it belongs in a museum. You stare at it, then at your father. He smiles at you. He has the same familiar wrinkles at the corner of his eyes. It doesn’t look like he’s aged a day.

“Happy birthday” he says proudly. “I thought my kid deserved the best cake.”

You move back. Tears well up in your eyes.

“Dad ? But I – we thought you were dead. Mom and I held a funeral for you.”

“It seems a bit hasty, isn’t it ?”

“It’s been ten years !”

“That much ?” He gives you a warm, cheeky smile and winks. “Well, the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated ! It’s quite a tale, believe me.”

“Have you warned mom ?”

“I’ll give her a phone call later. Today is your day, son. It seems normal that you should be told first.”

You think about your mother who currently works in a cafe forty-five hours a week to pay the rent. Maybe she doesn’t need one more cause of stress right now.

“Come in.”

Your father laughs as he passes the threshold.

“You know, that’s funny. That’s how everything has begun.”

“How ?”

He puts the huge cake on the table, takes a sit, and answers:

“I was on my way to buy you a normal cake that day, but it wasn’t quite I wanted. You know how I always want the best for you.”

You know. Memories come to the surface. When you were three years old, your father gifted you a rocking horse “made by the most skilled of craftsmen”. It was the worker’s last job, because no one plays with horses anymore, but it was a masterpiece. Since then, he's always tried to overdo himself in the presents department. You remember the hours spent waiting in every cloth shop because every shirt, every pants must fit you perfectly in size and in color. You remember been forbidden to buy sweets anywhere else than in a specialized candy store. You remember his proud smile when you walked together in the streets and the grown-ups complimented you about your politeness and your good looks.

“I can’t deny that” you say.

“I must have wished really hard, because a fairy -you know how many there are near the forest – landed on our window and asked if she could come in, for she' d heard my wish.”

You look at him with widen eyes.

“You let a fairy in our house ?”

“I’m not dumb, son. I know they’re asking for trouble. But this one said she’d been moved by the sincerity of my heart and the purity of my wish. She didn’t want to stay in the house, she proposed me a quest. You know, the fairies make the best cakes. No human can surpass them in skill. Even the ingredients are far superior. Their honey is out of this world – quite literally. The fairy offered me to provide me with such a delicacy, on one condition: that I’d have to help them make it. So I’ve gone in the forest and into their realm. I've harvested their wheat for them. I’ve fought against the Giant Chicken of Doom for its eggs. I've climbed a mountain for finding the cow as white as milk.”

He shrugs nonchalantly.

“For me it seems it lasted like a week. I knew the time passed differently in their realm, but I didn’t think I was gone for that long. Well, it turned all right in the end, didn’t it ? I’m alive, you’ve grown into a fine boy, and you have the best cake a human could ever dreamed of.”

He beams at you and waits for your answer. You take a deep breath.

“Maybe Mom will eat it. You should tell her on the phone.”

“Mom ? It’s your birthday cake.”

“I know you think so, but Dad, I’m allergic to honey.”

His smile stays frozen, and he has a forced laugh.

“Allergic to honey ? Who’s allergic to honey ? Where have you heard such a thing ?”

“I am, and in the doctor’s office, when I was six years-old. You weren’t gone then, but you already didn’t pay attention to me.”

He clenches his fist as he glares at you, all warmth gone.

“How dare you ? I’ve risked my life for you ! I’ve always, always tried to get the very best for you, and…”

“For you, Dad. Not for me.”

You shake your head:

“I don’t know what to tell you. You were so obsessed with your quests for presents you forgot to ask me. You didn’t know if I liked horses. You didn’t know if I liked the clothes you picked for me. You didn’t know if I wanted to pick up my candy with my friends at the mall. You've never asked if I've wanted a cake more than your safety. And to be frank, I don’t think you cared much.”

“How dare -”

“How old am I, Dad ?”

He opens and closes his mouth several times, seeking for an answer that doesn’t come.

You can’t pretend you’re surprised.

“You know very well I was gone for years,” he eventually says. ‘”It’s a trick question.”

“I’m ten years older than I was when you were gone, it shouldn’t be hard to do the math.”

He gives you an aggravated look and sighs exasperatedly.

“The fairies,” he exclaims. “They must have messed with my thoughts.”

You nod.

“Maybe so. That’s one more thing you should tell mom. Call her. I’m going. I have a date and I’m already late.”

“You can’t go, I’ve just returned ! A date ?”

“Yes Dad, it’s my birthday. I’m supposed to pick up my cake with my boyfriend. Sure, it won’t be fancy, but at least I’ll be able to eat it, and with someone who cares about me.”

You turn your back at him and open the door.

“Stick around, though. Maybe Mom will forgive you.”

*

Back to Fantasy Masterlist

When you were just a kid, your father left the house to go get your birthday cake, only to never come back. Ten years later, you leave to go buy yourself a cake, only to see your father, wearing fantasy armor and covered in scars, was about to knock on your door.

[roran01]

So, let's talk about Dacia (well, I'm gonna be the only one who does rn). Dacia plays a big part in Romania's history even if it's small compared to other ancients from that time. But I don't care. And honestly I don't mind that much that he's (yes I think he's male) not in the show or in the manga. Maybe I would've been disappointed if he was anyways cuz I prefer my own design of him ...that I didn't draw often...

But suddenly I feel like talking about him, more about character interpretations actually... well headcanons if you will (how can it be headcanon if there's no canon?)

So I think he's a tall and bulky guy with long blonde hair, blue eyes and rocking a beard (it would make sense for most man ancients to have beards tho, don't know if they had smth to shave with besides Rome), he has a little scar on his right eyebrow mostly as a decor for now, I gave him fangs too so he relates to Romania but also because I want a wild look on him. I have arts on my old blog but I want to draw him again with my more improved art style one day.

I had something that looks like a dacic armor design but it had too many details and I was behind with the skills to complete it or even make art of, not anymore, but I just drew him in modern clothes like that. I have a modern look of him where he has shorter hair (long can work too since it's pretty common nowadays). He can look scary sometimes, however that's just looks, I gave him a gentle personality in contrast.

Magic, fairies and other mythical creatures are a thing in hetalia, so I don't see why not make that sick dragon wolf symbol a real thing that he has around, (and I would).

As for interpretations, his relationship with Romania is basically father and son, but he wasn't around him long enough as he lost to a battle against Rome when Ro was really young and he vanished since then. So Ro's memories of him are pretty fuzzy and vague. (Maybe that's what the scar on his face could be about).

Romania may have wanted Rome's acknowledgment before, maybe he still does (he's a romance country regardless if others denied it) but he would've wanted to know Dacia better too.

Dacia thinks Rome is really annoying and he was bothered by him all the time when that guy felt like doing it. Wolves and nature were a significant part in his life so he was surrounded by wolves all the time.

If he was present around Romania nowadays, he'd find ways to embarrass him whenever he could. He would be updated with meme culture and dad jokes, which would make him kind of immature but that's the funny thing about him.

[ser-ket]

I've been feeling really fucked up about gender for a long while now

I've been teetering on this line

where I want to lean into being pretty and deeply consider stopping T

but then I'm like, NO I love my body and my face the way they are Right Now!!!

And even though I feel like I don't pass all that well, for some reason I DO and I don't understand how others can see me that way but also I Like that I pass

But then I catch my reflection in a car or a window or look at myself in a bathroom mirror and I H A T E what I see and I feel sick to my stomach

And I'm overwhelmed by this feeling that I'm unattractive to women, or maybe the kind of women I want to attract, or that I'm invisible to them, and I want them to see me so badly (just queer women, and i want them to see me as butch, an identity I've never previously identified with?)

and I feel stifled in my presentation, like I can't wear certain things or wear my hair the way I want at work, bc everyone thinks I'm a dude and I don't want anyone to be Weird about it (esp bc I work with a bunch of mostly conservative boomer cis men)

I don't care, outside of work, what I wear or how strangers gender me, or what pronouns someone uses for me or whatever. It's just different when I have to see and interact with these people every day.

And then I go home at the end of the day and look in the mirror, and I'm like,

BLown away by how attractive I am? and how I would look SO NICE with MORE facial hair????? And then think about UPping my dose?

I swear the mirrors at home work different

Anyway, the solution here is to just Be Pretty and keep taking T bc I'm happy with my body and it would be cool if I could grow a (good) beard someday

And then I feel stupid for ruminating about it bc literally every time I have felt messed up about my gender and get depressed and think about it too hard I COME BACK TO THE SAME EXACT CONCLUSION I'VE BEEN COMING TO FOR THE LAST 10+ YEARS and I SWear to god this happens at least once a week and YOU'D THINK THAT I WOULD LEARN but I literally Cannot stop these moods with Logic

And like, this is all so fucking stupid bc I'm already Aware that I'm currently androgynous enough that it literally just comes down to: If I shaved, and how I wear my hair.

That's literally it.

Tested and proved.

This is all so fucking dumb.

I look at all the people I run into during a day, and like, there is Barely Any Difference between males and females. Males just grow hair on their faces and have oversized clits. That's it. How did society end up like this? Why did it spread so far and become so pervasive even in countries that rejected abrahamic religion and had no prior concept of binary gender?

And I think a huge part of my insecurities just stem from like, not spending irl time with my queer friends.

I'm 90% sure these moods are just triggered by me not liking my forehead, just to make it all stupider.

lmao HELp

[thedysphoriadiaries]

Entry 32 - 20 March 2023, 8:34pm

I've kind of realized (if you can even call it that) something.

I've been thinking about my entire tirade about feminine men: expression not being an identity, and stuff along those lines.

Am I not, to some extent, presenting myself the way that some of these men are? It's a given that even compared to them, I'm taking baby steps by wearing more feminine undergarments, but still.

Am I not acting like them, right now?

...

Some days, I'm fine with being me (again, I'm talking about being me in isolation. my envy can be triggered by simply glancing at a girl or woman). Other days, the constant reminder of how masculine I am (in terms of mannerisms, body, and dressing) hits me like a brick to the face.

I wonder what would have happened if I was brought up with a more classically female childhood, or if I was allowed to express this part of me. Would I still want to be a girl? Would stopping at being a feminine man be enough?

... would I envy my partners for being girls, if i could be like them?

Also, I kinda read up about how some crossdressing people do develop dysphoria later in life, but, i'm not too sure about that. not going to count on that.

i've also been visiting subreddits and looking around for people who found out that they were feminine men instead of trans women. that bag of experiences i got was pretty mixed. there were people who transitioned, only to find out that they were feminine men (which, imo, is the worst possible outcome for me), and there were people who tried being feminine men, but realized that they still wanted more.

There were also some people who realized that they fell outside the binary, or were something else altogether, but still.

If it's not me being trans, then why do I hate being male? Why the fuck do I envy the girls and women around me, arguably to a degree that is causing me distress?

Imagine envying your coworker or cousins, or family members. You shouldn't, but you do. And it has you beating yourself up because of that cognitive dissonance between what you're doing, in the face of what you shouldn't be doing.

Imagine wanting to be your partner. You shouldn't, but you do. And it breeds resentment towards your partner. It breeds the motivation to find out about things you can do to be closer to a girl than you are.

Imagine wanting to be a girl, but your own mind resists you on the grounds that it shouldn't be something you're supposed to want.

But yet, I want to be a girl.

It's preferable over that feeling of being left out when girls talk about girl things, like periods.

Am I supposed to feel lucky that I don't have them? Because I sure as hell don't know. I feel left out. Sure, nobody wants to have severe abdominal cramps every month, but... I... just feel so left out. I don't know why I'm supposed to feel lucky that I don't have them, and I wouldn't have been surprised if I wanted to have them at some point.

I'm fucking spouting nonsense again just ignore me. I have a feeling that someone out there is just going to ask me to shut up because I'm born a guy and will stay that way till I die. That I should be lucky that I don't have to worry about getting pregnant or having periods.

But it hurts being a guy. It hurts so fucking much, to the point I've literally planned ways to die, just so I don't have to suffer like this anymore.

or maybe I'm stupid.

...

other than that, i initially wanted to call the music store to ask about their guitar repair thing but felt so crappy that i eventually decided to just waste my whole fucking day away by sleeping.

and i keep saying that i care more about my guitar than i do for myself.

and i finally learnt how to shave my... beard (ugh), with my eyes closed. i don't even want to touch it anymore. maybe i should laser that off before i go for enlistment.

and i recently found out i can't watch shows for too long anymore cuz i'd just end up envying the women in said show 🙃

just end me already i'm just some crazy person who wants to be a girl; i'm not one. i can see the face and almost hear the voice of a girl whom I used to envy.

i don't know what i want, or if the things i want are just massively blown out of proportion because of years of repression and being taught that my own needs and wants are not important.

... FUCK ME.

[uncle-fruity]

I have long hair and a beard. I don't bind. I don't shave. I don't voice train, so my voice is fairly androgynous unless I really put in some effort to go one way or the other. Sometimes I wear eyeliner. I usually wear black pants and a t-shirt/tank top. I'm happy looking like this.

But I have gotten ma'amed and sirred by the same person in the span of one minute multiple times. People can see that there's some gender fuckery going on here, but they do not understand it. I never correct random strangers about my gender identity, meaning they are always correcting themselves when they change their mind about which gender they think I am.

There is no going stealth for me anymore. Not without a LOT of effort and/or physical discomfort. I wouldn't even know which gender to try to go stealth as. Maybe before T I could have stealthed as a GNC woman, but unless someone has a time machine or a T-Be-Gone potion, that's a moot point.

Should I go stealth as a woman? I'd have to shave every day (and probably still have dark stubble on my face by the end of the day) and probably present even more hyper femme than I did when I was actually IDing as a girl just to give the impression of a woman that people wouldn't immediately clock as Woman But Wrong. And not just shaving my face, but shaving my chest on any day I wanted to wear something low cut (and like...I would want to do that all the time; I wear a lot of tank tops). I once had a panic attack as a teenager at the thought of having to wear make up every day (at the time I thought no one would hire a woman who didn't want to wear makeup), but I would likely have to wear make up every day to go stealth enough to hide my gender fuckery. If nothing else, concealer to cover the aforementioned stubble. Any amount of butchness could easily break through the illusion of stealth if I slipped even one day. I would fail to perform the gender I have always had trouble performing without going over the top. At least all my legal papers have F marked as my gender -- oh, except my most recent driver's license has a picture of me with a full beard, so I guess that's another thing I'd have to beg the system to change for me & hope they go along with it. That's a lot of effort for a low maintenance guy to go through just for the "privilege" of hiding who I really am.

Or maybe I could try to stealth as a man? Wear a binder that restricts my breathing and hurts after prolonged use. Like, fuck. I stopped wearing bras because they were uncomfortable, so to switch over to binding every day? Fuuuuck that. I can't afford a visit to the dentist, much less surgery not covered by insurance that would have me out of commission for several weeks. Also, I have wide hips. I'm short. 5 foot nothing. So often even cis men are emasculated & degendered based on their height, so as a trans person that's just another avenue for people to break through the illusion of stealth. I'd have to train my voice down. I would have to change my whole personality to perform as manly as possible and not the fruity, smiley, bouncy guy that I am. Not that cis men can't be fruity, smiley, or bouncy, but if you're trans and trying to hide you can't really express yourself in any kind of way that would call your gender into question, and as I said, even cis men get degendered and/or bullied by others when they fall out of line. Frankly, if I was a cis man, I would probably still have my manhood called into question all the time just because I like ""feminine"" interests and vibe easier with the expectations placed on women more than the expectations placed on men. I am not tough or hard or domineering and I don't want to be. I'm not a human shield to protect everyone else. I don't have the resources or bandwidth to be a provider for anyone. My expression of sexuality is deeply unmanly/degendered. And while I believe that men shouldn't have to be any of those things, if we're talking about going stealth, I'd have to overcompensate where I could due to my lack of traditional manliness which, to be honest, I do not think I could perform every day for the rest of my life even if I tried. Not to mention all the hoops I'd have to go through to get my legal documents to look like they match my gender, which takes a lot of effort and money and time to finalize.

I guess what I'm trying to say is either attempt to go stealth would come with a lot of effort I am mentally & emotionally unable to put in. (As in I am neurodivergent & low maintenance by default, and I can barely mask at all these days, much less construct & effectively perform the mask of gender bullshit when no part of my heart is in it.) I'm too manly to be a woman and too womanly to be a man. In reality, that's how I like it. I like having a gender expression that confuses people who don't know how to think outside of two specific gender boxes. I like breaking gendered expectations placed on me. I like being my own person with a complex and healthy relationship to my queer ass gender(s). I don't want to try to go stealth, but I also genuinely think that I wouldn't be able to. I really don't think I could pull it off even if I put in maximum effort. And even then, to keep it up forever? No way am I doing that.

Honestly, at this point, I'd rather die being called a faggot than attempt to go back into a closet. Above all, though, I'd like to exist happily & comfortably wrapped up in my gender fuckery without the fear of someone killing me about it. And I don't think going stealth is going to help us as a society break down gender roles & expectations. If it works for you and that's how you like to live your life, I am fully on board with your interest and effort towards that goal, but to me stealth wouldn't be safety even if it was possible. To me, that's like saying prison is safety from homelessness: yeah, you have a roof over your head and a bed to sleep in every night to protect you from the elements, but at what cost?

someone brought up the concept of going stealth in a trans server and it made me kind of realize a thing I never see people talk about when the concept of ‘stealth privilege’ (not scare quotes just quotes) is mentioned. maybe it is mentioned but i’ve never seen it

I’m nonbinary/multigender. I can’t fucking DO stealth. I’d have to shove myself into the closet and present as a cis [my agab] or transition to looking like a cis [not my agab] (like i have the money for that (i don’t)). The closest I get to that is not mentioning my gender online IDK it just really hit me that if shit hit the fan a lot of nonbinary people would have to suck it up and present as a gender they don’t identify as. And y’know obviously in a case where i’d have to recloset myself or where other nbies would have to, I’d/we’d have way bigger worries than gender presentation and dysphoria but i never really thought about the fact that I don’t have the option to transition and then go stealth mode as someone who wants a very gender-fuck presentation

There isn’t really a point to this it just made me think more about the stuff you always talk about like how multigender people are consistently excluded from trans conversations.

(ALSO YES THERE’S ALL THE OTHER STUFF ABT STEALTH PRIVILEGE LIKE HOW GROUPS OF PEOPLE CANNOT TRANSITION OR STILL WOULDN’T BE SAFE IF GOING STEALTH, ETC ETC. THERE’S ALSO A LOT OF TRANS PEOPLE WHO COULDN’T GO STEALTH AND WOULD HAVE TO RECLOSET IN A SCENARIO WHERE YOU’D NEED TO PRETEND TO BE CIS. NOT IGNORING THAT. JUST. NOT THE POINT I’M BRINGING UP)

it's a tough conversation and while it's good that some people can go stealth, even if it's painful, even if it is presenting as the wrong gender, other trans people struggle to find ways to do that in the first place. some people can fit into the narrow male-female binary and pass as a cisgender person of gender they don't identify as for safety reasons and while it's horrible, it's good to have that there

i can't go stealth, either, it's impossible for me. i'm either gendered as a genderqueer cis guy (everyone in my neighbor thinks i'm a cis man, whenever i bring up that i'm trans theyre shocked). people dont ignore my feminine clothes or make my makeup either. ive tried to pass as a cishet "normal" looking man for a long time and while most strangers in passing didnt catch on a lot of people in my life gave me shit for it

im misgendered constantly, im sexualized for my hips and ass, but people are threatened by my beard and deep voice. i can't pass as a cis woman because of that, or how big and bulky and hairy my body is. but yet when people find out i have a uterus, i'm being constantly gendered as a straight woman instead of being recognized as a gay trans man

i can't even pass as a cis butch lesbian anymore. i'm genderfucked, like you said. there's nothing left to pass as

i don't know how to present in order to look "normal" anymore. i'm intersex. i have literally never been able to figure this out. my body is too masculine for womens clothes, too feminine for mens clothes. im androgynous, a hermaphrodite, theres nothing i can do to stop making people question my gender when they see me.

nobody should have to go stealth but some queer people literally can't, you're right. i think often about how the hell i'm supposed to unqueer myself for "Serious" situations. i can't figure it out

[madewithspice]

Pt2: Two of a kind || Erwin x fem!reader

Warnings: None, fluff

Wc:1.4k words

@antoxsmith and @hopeless-daydream3r. This is for you :)) sorry for the delay

Erwin always seemed so organised to the outside world. Not today, though. Four hours left until he visits you for the project. He didn't sleep the night before. He was thinking about ideas that will impress you.

Also, he couldn't swallow the fact that you invited him. His crush invited him to her house. He always admired you from far away. You were so intelligent and so calm. He paid attention to how you communicated with patients so smoothly. They always were relaxed with you. He couldn't do that because he was always so stiff and intimidating to the patients. He wished he had your ability.

It didn't help that you were insanely beautiful. Walking around with your pretty dresses and those big glasses that you pushed back all the time. For some reason you were always alone. Erwin was so confused how an ethereal woman like you with honey dripping off her lips wasn't accompanied by someone. Maybe everyone was too good for you. That's why he never approached you before.

He got out of the shower with the towel wrapped lowly on his waist. Stood in front of the mirror shaving his ingrown beard. His skin has to be smooth for you. What if he was lucky and you touched his face? He watched closely his reflection to see every detail. Every style of his hair didn't seem good enough for him so he left that for later because patience was leaving his body like the droplets of water.

He couldn't decide what to wear. So many options, but nothing satisfied him. He wore his black hoodie at the end, a casual look will make him seem friendlier after all. He took it off and ironed it so it looks freshly washed. Put some cologne on it and wore it again. He had some hours left, which killed him mentally. Erwin was running circles in his living room trying to ease his nerves. It was so embarrassing.

Equally embarrassing was the fact that you were running circles in your living room too. Suspecting the whole apartment for a hint of dust or dirt. You hadn’t seen it that clean since the day you rented it. You had chocolates on the table black, white, with nuts and fruits. You didn't know which one he'd like. Same goes with every juice you bought. You hated yourself for being so nervous because of him, but you couldn't help it.

Erwin was watching the clock all the time. He started sweating with every tick sound that it made. Spraying more and more cologne. He couldn't afford to smell bad. "Hey there. No that sounds weird" he was practicing how he'll greet you in front of his mirror. "Sup. How's going? Hmm too informal". He was a part of many presentations in front of highly awarded professors and doctors but he got tongue tied because of a pretty girl. He hoped the walk towards your apartment would help him relax and be less tense. It did until he was standing in front of your door and texted you he's there.

"Hello" was the only thing he could say when you opened the door with one of those cute dresses of yours. "Did you fall in a puddle of cologne, Smith?" You greeted him with a teasing remark. "My hand slipped a little bit" he looked at the floor entering your apartment embarrassed. "I was joking. You smell amazing" you get close to his neck and he's about to faint.

"You can sit on the couch if you want. Floor works too. I find it more comfortable" he sat on the carpeted floor next to you since you mentioned you prefer it. "Are you waiting for someone after me?" He said breaking the silence between you. "Huh? No. Why are you asking?" You asked while preparing the material for the project

"I was just confused about all of this" he pointed out the whole table. "Ohhh. That's for you. I didn't know what you like so I got every kind of chocolate and juice I could see" you admitted regretting what you did. What if he thought you were weird? "Im not that picky" he told you taking his notebooks out of his leather bag. "Let me get to know you then, so next time my table won't look like an elementary school party" you made him laugh. Even his laugh was perfect, you wished you could hear it more. "I see myself as an open book. You're the mystery here" you laughed because you didn't think that you are this mysterious. "Well we got time to get to know each other" you scooped closer to him to see what he had wrote on his notebooks.

"Those are my ideas. What do you think?" He asked getting closer to you and now your knees are touching. "We got pretty similar ideas. Impressive" you said showing him your paper. "That's good. I didn't want to argue with you about the subject of our project" "now you'll make me regret choosing the cardiovascular system" you both smiled admiring each others face.

"May I know why you wanted to argue with me?" You had a feeling that studying won't be done anytime soon. "Because it seems entertaining and you seem so fun to tease" you covered your face with the paper you were holding "oh? Thats why you do it all the time" he turned his head towards you and you could see the details of his face. You wanted to leave kisses all over it.

"We should choose heart failure" you pointed one bullet point on Erwins paper to change the topic. Erwin nodded and you opened the books you two have brought. You sat across him, glancing at him from time to time. He did the same with you. You two have build a comfortable silence. You could get used to this. Maybe a study date in the future wouldnt be so bad?

"Erwin, what about th-?" You said leaning to him but you bumped your head to his. "Are you planning to kill me before our exams next week?" He dramatically rubbed his forehead "maybe" you giggled rubbing his forehead. Your hands slipped on his soft hair and you quickly took your hand away getting shy because you realised what you did.

Hours passed since you started. The atmosphere was never this dreamy. The sound of keyboard the laptop was never so satisfying. Maybe because it was coming from the man that was in the same room with you. "Have you finished your part, partner? He questioned because you stopped typing. "I'm near the end, partner" you empathised the last word making Erwin bite his lip to hide his smile.

You definitely misunderstood him. He wasn't that obnoxious, he was just very passionate about everything he was doing. That was his motivation and it should have been yours too. You felt guilty how few days ago you wanted to never hear of this man but now? You ask many questions on purpose so you could listen to him explain everything with those sparkling eyes you adore.

"I think that's enough for today" he closed his laptop screen "you're leaving?" You looked at him putting his stuff back in his bag "it's past midnight. We have a class tomorrow, remember?" He told you but you only paid attention to the fact that the two of you stayed together almost all day. "You're right. When do you want to come again?" You stood up when he got ready with his belongings.

"I think its only fair to have you in my apartment next time. Let me treat you with a dinner too" he tied his shoes looking up at you "Are you planning to seduce me before our exams next week?" He stood up close to you smiling "maybe" he told you reaching the door handle "I forgot to tell. You looked so beautiful today" your heart was about to explode with his comment. "It was nice working with you Erwin" you tried to act cool but your heart eyes couldn't hide how much he affected you. "See you tomorrow, partner" he waved at you "Goodnight, partner" you closed the door sighing. This ended way better that you expected.

-Markie

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 14 - ao3 -

If Lan Qiren hadn’t had any idea on what to do with Cangse Sanren to begin with, he had even less of an idea of what to do when he received a letter from his sworn brother which, after some deciphering of the small talk and insincerely meant pleasantries that could just as easily be read as implicit threats, seemed to boil down to so I hear you have a lover now? and also come to the Nightless City at once.

I do not have a lover, Lan Qiren wrote back crossly. You should send whatever spies you have packing because they are clearly completely useless to you. Also, I have classes that I have no intention of missing. If you want company, recall that you have a wife.

That won him a few weeks of blissful silence, possibly due to Wen Ruohan’s shock but more likely due to Lan Qiren having spitefully chosen to send his reply by usual post rather than by special post, which was more expensive and also generally reserved for important sect matters and not for obvious fishing attempts for gossip about the personal lives of juniors.

Which Wen Ruohan should be above, anyway. What did it matter to him?

The response, not long after that, went something along the lines of so what you’re saying is that you haven’t won the immortal mountain’s disciple yet? if you come to Qishan, I can advise you and that irritated Lan Qiren most of all, because right up until that point he hadn’t known that Cangse Sanren was a disciple of the famous Baoshan Sanren, the best-known immortal still in contact with the mortal world.

Mostly because Cangse Sanren hadn’t ever bothered to introduce herself.

It bothered him, a little. More than a little. She knew how much he valued people acting according to the rules; even if she didn’t care for them, shouldn’t she respect his inclination?

(It turned out that she didn’t introduce herself because she didn’t have a proper name, just the title that everyone used for her. Baoshan Sanren let everyone keep the name they came to the mountain with, but Cangse Sanren had come too young for any name at all, and so she’d never gotten one in all the suspiciously unspecified years she had spent on the timeless mountain. It was a pretty good reason not to introduce yourself, as such things went, and it also belatedly explained why she took offense to people calling anyone old.)

I am not trying to win anyone, he wrote back to Wen Ruohan. And even if I was, which I am not, I would still have classes and am not currently at liberty to travel. Has there been some sort of terrible tragedy such that your Wen sect is so desperate for additional people in the Nightless City?

You are not just any person but my sworn brother, Wen Ruohan responded. Am I not entitled to see you? Maybe I want to see this beard you’re reputedly growing.

Lan Qiren rolled his eyes and threw the letter into the box he was keeping all the others. He was trying to grow a beard, as it happened, though being a newly-turned eighteen it was a slow and frustrating process. He wasn’t entirely sure he liked the itchy feeling of it growing, either, but stroking his chin as if in thought was nearly as cathartic as waving his hands, only more socially acceptable; he liked that part very much.

He’d always had a tendency towards strange motions – moving his hands or arms, tapping on things, or rocking back and forth when he was especially distressed – but his brother had always hated it especially, always quoting Do not move arbitrarily at him even though he knew that that wasn’t the fundamental meaning of that rule. That wouldn’t have been so much of an issue, except most other people seemed to agree with him, citing the importance of acting in a dignified and restrained manner, limiting unnecessary movement and remaining still and calm as a placid pool of water no matter what the circumstance.

The beard was an acceptable compromise. Given how common beards were in the sect, it would be hard to criticize Lan Qiren without accidentally insulting an elder – and it felt so good to be able to move freely, the action serving as an aid for emotional regulation that he desperately needed.

Of course, Cangse Sanren thought it was ugly.

Lan Qiren didn’t agree, but he also didn’t think it was any of her business what he did with his face. Even if it was ugly, so what? He wasn’t particularly egotistical.

Accordingly, he thanked her stiffly for her opinion and then proceeded to ignore it.

Apparently, that didn’t sit well with her, a fact Lan Qiren only discovered when he woke up one day, groggy and unclear as to what had happened the night before, to find himself shaven clean and Cangse Sanren beaming at him from within his own room, to which he had never invited her.

He did not react well.

Stories of your shouting have reached even Qishan, Wen Ruohan’s next letter said. Was what your little lover did really so bad? I hadn’t known you were so sensitive. It’s not as if it won’t grow back.

This is your fault, Lan Qiren wrote back, irrational and upset, his calligraphy rough from the way his hand shook – though whether in rage or something else he couldn’t quite tell. I don’t want to hear from you.

Truly his reaction had been out of proportion with Cangse Sanren’s offense. Shaving a beard, especially a half-grown thing like that, was little more than a childish prank, even if it had taken him several months to get as far as he had; in the end, it was really only a blow to his vanity, and perhaps the loss of a convenient emotional crutch.

And yet, when he’d woken up and seen her there where she wasn’t welcome – when he’d realized that he couldn’t remember the evening before, just the way he couldn’t remember what had happened in the Nightless City that day, waking up to Wen Ruohan smiling at him and an oath he didn’t know nor want – when he’d tasted the sour taste of day-old liquor on his tongue –

He’d panicked.

She’d realized it, he thought in retrospect; the ever-present smile had slowly dripped off her mouth as he stared at her blankly for the first few moments, frozen, and had morphed into an expression of shock when he had broken through his paralysis to start screaming at her to go, get out, leave – he’d even picked up some of his own things to throw at her, just to make her leave faster.

He continued smashing his things after she’d gone, unthinking in his frenzy and unsure why he was so upset, and in the end when clarity had returned and he realized what he’d done he’d been so ashamed that he’d grabbed his guqin and slunk away, retreating to the rooms where the Lan sect entered into seclusion. He couldn’t go into real seclusion with so little preparation, of course, but he was practiced enough at inedia that he could skip meals for a few days and not need to see the world for at least a week.

Part of the feeling of shame was that he didn’t know why he had reacted so badly. Wasn’t it normal for peers his age to play that sort of trick on each other? It hadn’t been meant as a real insult.

He had no right to feel so betrayed.

And yet, he did.

Cangse Sanren had visited later that day, her hand tapping lightly on the door bound by wards and her normally brash voice murmuring explanations and not-quite apologies – saying that she hadn’t realized what it had meant to him, that she wouldn’t have done it if she’d known, asking if he wouldn’t come out to talk to her about it and let her apologize properly.

He ignored her.

He ignored her the next day and the day after, too. His hands were unsteady when he tried to play calming songs for himself, his music tangled and knotted up like the feelings in his chest.

On the fourth day, she came and sat by his door in the evening, late and near to curfew.

“I didn’t know, you know,” she finally said after sitting there for nearly a shichen. “About what happened to you in the Nightless City.”

His hands froze over the guqin.

“Drinking liquor comes as easily to me as breathing,” she continued. “No one’s ever been able to play a trick on me because I got drunk – it’s everyone else who falls over in the end, not me. Maybe what why, when someone told me how badly your family handles its liquor, I thought only of how funny it would be…and not how it would feel, waking up and realizing that you didn’t know what happened. What someone could have done to you.” She was silent for a moment. “What I did do.”

Lan Qiren shut his eyes tightly.

Yes, he thought to himself. She was right. That was why he was so upset.

It wasn’t about the beard at all.

“An oath made when you didn’t know it doesn’t count, you know.”

He laughed harshly, the sound catching in his throat like thick mud. “It does,” he said, and his voice was hoarse from the lack of speech. “Of course it counts. It’s my honor, in the end…anyway, there’s no reason for me to lose my head over it. Sect Leader Wen’s powerful and influential; there are those who would cut off their right hands for a connection with him, much less an oath of brotherhood.”

He wasn’t even all that angry at Wen Ruohan for doing it, either, not really. There wasn’t much point – his few experiences with the other man so far showed that that was just what he was like, always taking instead of asking, and scheming was as innate to inter-sect politics as fighting. Might as well be angry at his grandfather for the ancestral weakness to liquor in the Lan lineage.

It had only been the shock of Cangse Sanren’s unexpected actions that had made it feel like a knife stabbed into his back, a scabbed-over wound suddenly ripped open again.

“You didn’t trust him,” Cangse Sanren pointed out. “You trusted me. And I scared you.”

Perhaps that was true.

“You’re still you, you know. Even while drunk.” She chuckled. “You talk more, care less what people think of you; you’re a little more willing to stand up for yourself, a little more bitter, a little less consciously kind. You told me all about music, something that went over my head, then went to sleep in just the right and proper way, albeit right on the floor. I had to wait until you were asleep to shave you.”

That was a relief to hear. Lan Qiren hated the idea of being so vulnerable.

Although – perhaps he wasn’t. According to Lao Nie, he’d apparently kneed Wen Ruohan in the balls that night for bothering him with nonsense or possibly for trying to leave before he finished explaining something, sometime either before or after their oath.

(After, he assumed. If it had been before, it seemed more likely that he would’ve ended up dead.)

“Anyway, I wouldn’t have done anything serious,” she added. “You wouldn’t have woken up married or anything.”

“It’s not you,” he assured her hastily, alarmed by the thought. “I didn’t mean to imply anything about your character, which I know is good; I know you wouldn’t have done anything like that. It’s only – you don’t always know what people think is enough, coming from the immortal mountain as you do. If someone really wanted to push the issue, or if you didn’t have the background you did, just you being in my room unattended might’ve served as an excuse. And then where would we be?”

She was silent for a while.

“You really don’t want to be married to me,” she finally said. “You’re not playing games or anything; you really don’t.”

Lan Qiren felt something lurch in his chest.

“No,” he said, painfully honest. “Did – did you?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, and Lan Qiren winced. The possibility hadn’t even occurred to him, not even when others had suggested it.

“I didn’t mean…”

“I know,” she said, and her voice was warm. “Don’t worry about me, Qiren; I’ll get over it soon enough. There’s no pain I won’t forget a day later, never learning anything, it’s just the way I am.”

He gnawed on his lower lip. “…can I ask why?”

“Why you, you mean?” He could hear her shrugging through the door, the fabric of her clothing rustling against the wall she was leaning against. “You care about things, deeply and truly. Rules, honor, the right path…I like the way you think, the way you care. You have a good heart and a good brain. Why not you?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and felt rather a wretch over the whole thing. “I didn’t mean to…to…”

She laughed. “You didn’t lead me on, Qiren! You only ever treated me as a friend, and I was, I think. Maybe still am?”

“You are,” he said, and looked down as his guqin, then sighed, picking it up and going to the door. There was no point in pretending to be in seclusion now that the knot in his heart had loosened, and he was starting to get hungry. “Come on, let’s go. I feel a need to graze on the kitchen’s leftover vegetables, as if I were a wild rabbit.”

She beamed up at him, round face shining like the moon.

The next day, after he finished doing penance for missing classes without advance notice – two dozen strikes, but no more – Lan Qiren went down the mountain and purchased some tea said to have especially strong stimulant properties, and gave it to Cangse Sanren.

She blinked at it, then looked at him.

“If you brew this in the morning, you won’t be so tired all the time,” he told her, and shrugged. “Since we’re friends and all.”

He didn’t have that many friends – so few as to not even have recognized her as being one. He was determined to cherish them.

She smiled.

The next day after that, there was surprising news in the Cloud Recesses, the gossip reaching the classroom faster than the messenger sent there specifically for that purpose.

Wen Ruohan had come to pay a visit.

[queeenpersephone]

An alternate universe from the “I Want to Believe” movie where, after Mulder shaves and they meet with Agent Whitney, instead of Scully being annoyed, she tells Mulder she just wants to get home to take advantage of his smooth face.

honestly where my mind immediately went... where your mind is anon... that’s the iwtb we deserved. so have the lead up to that. (also note: i haven’t rewatched iwtb, only the bed scene and select msr scenes, so i genuinely remember none of the dialogue just vague impressions) 

also sorry this is so introspective. it’s also 1am so i’m not even sure it’s introspective in a good way lmaO. 

-

The moment Agent Whitney reaches up towards Mulder’s face, Scully is onto her. 

Part of her can hardly blame the woman. Fox Mulder is a handsome man. A kind, brilliant, sexy man without ladder climbing ambitions is rare in the world Whitney inhabits; Scully would know. To suddenly be able to see a bit of sculpted jaw, that plump lower lip, would make even the most professional of woman swoon a little. 

The other part of her, the part of her who took Mulder’s heart and body for her own years ago, is itching for the gun she used to carry. Without it, she steps into Mulder’s space, ignoring the way he looks down at her in surprise and warmth. Maybe she should be slightly embarrassed that she’s seeking closeness for what is probably the wrong reason, but she’s not. 

Yes, Agent Whitney might be able to appreciate the clean shaven man who’s no longer hidden by a thick patch of hair. But Agent Whitney will never be able to appreciate what it means. 

Contrary to her soft protests in bed, Scully has never hated the beard. In fact, the beard complements the way he wears his hair now, longer and unkept, a sign of the years he’s spent hidden away in an office in a house where his name could never be on the deed. Mulder’s never been the cleanest, most organized individual by any means, but Scully has known since they met that he takes a certain pride in his appearance: his neatly pressed suits, his shapely calves built by years of running, his steady habit of shaving daily. 

Once they were on the run, however, all of that fell apart in a muddle of baggy, cheap clothes and dark circles and inexpensive hair dye. When they had settled, when Scully had gotten her job, she had pulled herself back together. But Mulder never had. There was nowhere to go, no one to see but her, and he had long stopped putting on airs for her. Would it have been nice to see him try sometime? Yes. Was she too busy basking in the fact they were alive and whole and together? Definitely.

She is somewhere between hurt and relieved that this foray back into the world that had burned them so thoroughly has catalyzed him into caring again. Because that’s what this is. It isn’t a meaningless shave, it’s a beaming message to the woman who has known him for over a decade now. This has brought him back to life. This has brought him back to life in a way she never could. 

She could embrace that fear that she’s not enough, the jealousy, even though Mulder had stepped away before Whitney could come anywhere near him. She could hit him where it hurts, she could beg him to leave this all behind and come home to her, with her. 

Or she could embrace the act, even if she’s resentful of the reasons. 

They watch Father Joe in silence for a long moment as Agent Whitney scurries off to see if he’s given them anything new. “I know what this is doing to you,” she says finally. 

He doesn’t look at her. “Do you?” He says evenly; in his tone, the words are barely a question. He knows her as well as she knows him, well enough to see her protests coming.

“I don’t want to regret bringing you out here,” she replies, watching his chest rise and fall. “This hasn’t been our job for a long time.” 

Finally, Mulder looks at her. “This is the right thing, Scully,” he says, emphatic, eyes shining, and all at once, Scully resigns herself to seeing this through. Sure, this is a psychic and a priest that molests children and dead FBI agents, but her current job is seeing her long-gone son in every sick child, so maybe it’s one half dozen or the other. Regardless, she can’t leave Mulder out here alone. She can’t leave him ever, not when that light is back in his eyes. 

Maybe it can chase away some of her darkness too. 

“Okay,” she says, not looking at him, but her clearly unexpected response is not one he will allow her to make facing away from him. He takes her arm, spins her in. 

“Okay?” He asks, shining eyes wide. 

“We’ll do this,” she tells him, reaching down for his hand with one of her own and reaching up to his face with the other. “But I won’t lose myself or you in it. So we do this together or not at all.” She softens. “Can you do that for me?”

Mulder sighs, leaning into her orbit. “Yes, Scully. I promise.” 

God, does she want to believe him.

She pushes the fear away and smirks instead, stopping him before he can make for Father Joe, who’s mumbling to himself a few yards away. “And Mulder?” 

He turns back to her, and she fits her tiny palm to his newly revealed skin, rubbing gently. He waits for her to speak. “We’re adding an activity back to our repertoire. Tonight. No excuses.”

He grins at her, slow and sure and god she has missed that bottom lip, she can feel its impact in her low abdomen, simmering with heat. “I knew you missed the best seat in the house,” he murmurs back to her, eyes hot and dark. 

“Mulder!” She chastises, even though she knows she started it, forcing back her blush as he fits his hand to her lower back and leads her over to their psychic witness. She refocuses. She promised to be present, to work this case, and she will, however much she fears what it might do to her. To him. To them.

Mulder’s hands find her back, her arm, her hands for the rest of the night. He treats her like a partner, a familiar dance that she’s missed more than she had thought. She exhales. 

Maybe they will survive this case intact. 

[rjhpandapaws]

Canon hankcon, "birthday" for the prompt, and that's all I'm giving you lmao. Whose birthday? Party or no acknowledgement? Homemade cake with haphazard candles or storebought fancy pants cake? How many birthday kisses from Sumo? I dunno you tell me.

//:3

It wasn’t any particular news that Hank didn’t enjoy his birthday much anymore. It might have been the grief but he had a hard time remembering a time before Cole when he did. It was old news to everyone it seemed except Connor who was waiting by his desk the morning of with a box in his hands. “Connor, what is that?” He asked as he moved to sit at his desk. “It’s a birthday present Hank.” Connor set the small box on his desk, “Isn’t it a human custom to celebrate them?” Hank bit off the annoyed sigh and reminded himself that Connor didn’t know better, “Most people do. When you’re young making it another year is kind of a big deal, but when you get to my age its just a reminder of how many opportunities you’ve missed.” Connor fell onto red for a moment and Hank regretted his words, “Do you want me to take it back?” His LED flickered as he did something in that head of his. “No.” Hank shook his head, “I appreciate it Connor, it was just a surprise. I’m not used to people caring after I spent years asking them not to.” Connor narrowed his eyes as he moved to sit as his desk, “I know now, so it won’t happen again.” This time Hank sighed, “Connor, its okay, I promise.” Connor still didn’t believe him from the looks of it, and Hank hated that he was right. He knew Connor meant well, but they were dancing around an unknown something and every time Connor would do something like this it reminded Hank that the android could do so much better. When he finally climbed out of his own head Hank noticed Connor had gotten to work. His LED was yellow which meant he was thinking about something too, but Hank didn’t have the nerve to ask. He looked down at the small precisely wrapped box and what it was that Connor had decided was worth getting him.

He opened the box as quietly as he could, he didn’t want to pull Connor out of his focus, the brunette hated that. The last thing he expected was concert tickets, they were rested on top of a neatly folded t-shirt. The tickets were for a holographic performance by Frank Sinatra. He set them aside and took out the t-shirt and found it was a signed Knight of The Black Death shirt, it was from one of their older tours and had only been up for bid. He didn’t know how Connor had found it or how much he had paid for it but he knew neither of them had been cheap. “Connor.” He said firmly. Connor came back to himself and tilted his head in question, “You know birthday gifts are supposed to be simple right?” “Yes.” Connor responded, “But they are also supposed to be something you enjoy, and I figured that this would have been better than simple. Jazz is something I know you enjoy, I would have done Knights of The Black Death but they aren’t currently touring.” “So you bought two tickets to one of the best jazz clubs in Detroit and won a bit on an auction only shirt.” Hank remarked. “Yes, I figured you could take a friend with you.” Connor continued, “I figured you would have more fun that way, the shirt took a while to get, but that’s the perk of not needing sleep.” Hank bit back a groan and found himself smiling nonetheless. He didn’t deserve this kind of effort and certainly not from Connor. Not to mention that Connor had seemed to greatly over estimate the number of friends he had. Other than Connor and possibly Jeff he really didn’t know who would want join him. According to the date on the tickets he had until that evening to decide.

He tucked the tickets back into the box and did what he could to focus on his work. His mind kept tracking back to how much thought Connor had put into this, some stupid day of the year to commemorate the mistake that was his life. That Connor had found their friendship for lack of a better word worth burning a few paychecks on. It baffled him. On some level he understood that not many people viewed him in the same light he viewed himself, but the fact that Connor of all people saw him as worth this much effort never failed to knock him off kilter. The day was thankfully slow, his head wasn’t in the right place for case work as it was, he wouldn’t have been able to handle a live one. He was pulled back to attention when Connor began to pack up his things for the day. Hank still needed to talk to him about the jazz club. God, how long had it been since he had asked someone on a date? Could this really even be considered a date if Connor was the one that bought the tickets? “Your vitals say you are distressed Hank. Is there something I can do to help?” Connor was standing with his blazer over his arm, it was a charcoal grey number he had picked out to replace the branded one. “Ah no. I was just thinking too much.” He said, here went nothing he supposed, “Would you like to go with me tonight? To the jazz club?” He didn’t miss the small smile that flashed across Connor’s features before he replied, “I would love too.” Hank nodded as relief crashed over him, “Think you could be ready by eight thirty?” “Of course.” Connor agreed, “I’ll see you then Hank.” He gave a polite wave before he turned to leave. Hank was grinning at his monitor like a damn fool.

He got home with just around two hours to get ready and realized he had nothing to wear that would hold a candle to how Connor would probably wind up looking. He dressed sharply despite being a plain clothes detective so it was certain he would be dressed to the nines for this too. He dug through his closet like a damn teenager looking for something that would fit and look nice. He needed to shower as well but that could wait until after he found something to wear that would be presentable. He decided on black jeans at the very least because he couldn’t be paid to wear slacks even for a maybe date. Then it was on to looking for a shirt which took longer than he would have liked. He eventually settled for a dark teal button down that he didn’t remember ever buying but was thankful to have nonetheless. The shower came next since he did have time, and after that it was just a matter of getting himself to look presentable. He shaved figuring it was time the beard went anyway and then tied his hair back in a half ponytail to keep it out of his face. He debated his glasses for a long moment before he put them on, he technically needed them all the time but he only used them at home to give his eyes a break. Satisfied with the way he looked, he fed Sumo, grabbed his leather jacket, and headed for the car. If he was lucky he would only be a little late to pick up Connor. Hank was not in anyway ready for the way Connor was dressed. He had changed his hair to loose curls and an undercut. He was in a maroon button down under a grey suit vest with black slacks. He was absent of a tie and the first couple buttons of the shirt were undone, and he looked nervous. When he saw Hank his LED rolled yellow and blinked a few times and Hank could have sworn it was red for one of them, but just as quick as it happened it was back to blue. His smile was back in place as he walked to the car.

“You clean up nicely Hank.” Connor said with what Hank was going to take a as a friendly smile because if he looked too much into how Connor had looked at him he was going to combust, “The glasses are a nice touch.” Hank let out a dry laugh, “Only you would find not being able to see attractive.” Connor let out a sound that was distinctly inhuman but still very clearly flustered, “I didn’t- that’s not- its-” He sighed, “That’s not to say that I don’t find you attractive normally.” There was a long stretch of silence after that then Connor seemed to realize what he had said and his LED strobed red. The car was alight with his very clear distress, “Could we maybe pretend that I didn’t just say that.” Hank chuckled lightly, “Of course. It will be just like it never happened.” Of course Hank planned to keep the memory for himself. It confirmed that he hadn’t been imagining whatever this unspoken thing was between them. It was unfortunate that it seemed that for now it would stay unspoken. At least he knew glasses at the very least were the key to getting under Connor’s skin. Maybe he could wear them to the station every once in a while. “For what it’s worth Con, you clean up pretty nice as well.” Hank remarked earning another smile from Connor. “I was worried I might be over dressed.” Connor admitted, “I’ve never been to one of these places before so I wasn’t sure what the dress code was.” Hank shook his head as he pulled into the parking lot, “You look just fine, I promise. If anything, I might be a little underdressed.”

“I think you look nice.” Connor said almost under his breath. Hank didn’t know if it was meant for him to hear, but he responded anyway, “Thanks.” He doesn’t get anymore response than Connor’s index finger cutting into his line of sight, “There’s a parking space four spaces up and to the left.” Hank hummed his acknowledgement and pulled into the space once they got to it. He checked to be sure he had the tickets and then got out. Connor followed suit. They were close enough to bump shoulders as they walked to the doors and Hank couldn’t stop the smile on his lips even if he had been paid. It might not have been a date officially, but that didn’t stop it from feeling like it. There was just something in the air that made it feel that way. After they were admitted Connor took his hand and lead him to a corner table with a clear view of the stage. They were early, there was still about twenty minutes before the opening act so the good tables were almost full. Like the parking space Hank chalked it up to Connor’s keen observation, he always was a few steps ahead of Hank it seemed. “Is this alright?” Connor asked his voice was void of its usual confidence. “Its perfect Connor.” Hank reassured, “There’s nothing to be worried about.” “You seemed upset with this idea earlier.” Connor said without looking at him. He was turned in a way that Hank couldn’t see his LED, “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.” “Hey.” Hank said sharply which caused Connor to look at him and like Hank had suspected his LED was on red, “I was just surprised. Its been... quite a while since someone had put that much thought into a gift. I love it Connor, and if I’m honest I’m still trying to convince myself that this all is real.”

Connor’s LED flickered and Hank knew he was being scanned. Under any other circumstance he would have found it frustrating but he got the feeling Connor was just as out of his depth as Hank was. He needed to know that Hank was being honest and Hank could give him that much. He apparently found what he was looking for because he smiled. “Then I suppose its a good thing I did.” Connor said after a moment, “Someone has to remind you that you matter.” Hank let out a dry laugh, “Damn Connor, usually you buy a man a drink before you get to the sweet talking.” It was a deflection and a poor one at that if the way Connor narrowed his eyes was anything to go by, “Hank.” “Right, no self deprecating comments.” Hank grumbled, “Do they even have android friendly drinks here. I probably should have thought about that sooner.” “They do, don’t worry.” Connor informed, “But even then, tonight isn’t about me.” Hank’s response was cut off by Connor narrowing his eyes once again, “How about we order a couple of drinks before the show starts.” Connor smiled, “That sounds nice.” Hank took his jacket off and rested it on the table to mark it as taken. Connor stood as well and they headed to the bar together. They were bumping shoulders again and Hank was tempted to take his hand again, but he didn’t. When Connor had taken his hand it was so they wouldn’t get separated by the crowd had settled down for the most part in anticipation for the show. Connor stepped up to the bar to order, “Could we get an Old Fashioned and a Thirium Sunset please?”

Hank wasn’t nearly as surprised that Connor knew what he liked to drink as he was at the fact that he had ordered an alcoholic drink for himself, or at least the android equivalent. The bartender seemed surprised as well but got to work on both drinks. “I didn’t know you drank.” Hank found himself saying. “I don’t usually.” Connor admitted, “But its not very gentlemanly to let your date drink alone.” Hank blue screened at that, he was relatively certain Connor meant it as a turn of phrase but he still hung on the word. Connor was smiling, he seemed glad to catch Hank off guard. The night after that passed in a haze of good music and better and conversation. Hank still had to drive so he stopped after two drinks, but the more Connor had the closer he moved and by the end of the night Connor’s usual perception of personal space was little more than a myth. Hank found he didn’t mind. When it came time to leave Connor’s balance was off so Hank put on of his arms over his shoulder and half packed Connor out of the jazz club. Connor tried his best to walk so it wasn’t as much dragging him as he thought it would be. “You have like, really pretty eyes.” Connor said out of the blue when they were nearly to the car, “They are very expressive.” Hank laughed, “Thank you Con.” He found himself wondering if androids could suffer from hangovers but he found himself sympathetic just in case. He got Connor in the car and belted in which wasn’t all that much of a feat, it seemed the cold air had helped him recover some. He was quiet on the way home, and if it weren’t for the fact that his eyes were roaming around the car Hank would have believed him to be in stasis.

“I think I’m back to normal now.” Connor said as Hank pulled into his complex, “Sorry about that.” Hank just chuckled, “Everyone gets that way when they find a drink they like. On top of that I’m pretty sure its your first time drinking. Getting like that is basically a right of passage.” “I could have at least picked a day other than your birthday to get like this.” Connor sighed as he looked down. Hank found a place to park and reached out to ruffle Connor’s hair, “It was nice to see you let loose for once. Tonight was nice.” Connor smiled, “I’m glad then.” If Hank were to be asked about this, he planned to blame it on his drinks, even if he and Connor both knew it was a lie. It was an out both of them could take if they decided this was a mistake, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from leaning in. The kiss he gave Connor was chaste and not much more than a brush of lips. The one Connor chased it with was the exact opposite and Hank found himself breathless when Connor pulled away. “I’ll see you tomorrow Lieutenant.” He said with a wink as he got out, “Happy Birthday.” Hank watched him walk into the building still waiting for his brain to come back online. Of all the ways he expected tonight to end, this was not one of them. Happy Birthday indeed.

@irrelevantbutfabulous

(Prompt from this list)

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

I’d put a crown at your feet... (Part I)

For the dearest @marilynmonroefanfics​ 💝👄

Hope you’ll like the story.

TW: mentions of smut

June 1972. Castle of Balmoral.

Walking through the Scottish lands, Philip Mountbatten, Duke of Edinburgh, was in a foul mood. 

He felt like his life was falling apart for two years. Or maybe for more years? 

He did not remember when it went sour, but for sure, he knew that his life was a complete mess.

First of all, his marriage was falling apart: he and Elizabeth grew distant from each other. Farewell, the sweet romance of the beginning! Even the birth of Edward, their last child, did not manage to patch things up between them.

Secondly, his “dear” wife did not show any maternal love for their children. She cast Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward away, often scolding them for their mistakes and barely complimenting their efforts or successes. 

Philip had to admit that he was not really present for his children, but he was not at ease with them. Moreover, Elizabeth took perverse pleasure remembering his royal duties.

But the final straw was when he discovered that his spouse enjoyed the company of other men, to say the least.

Amazing! And he was the one the press accused of being a cheating husband! It is a topsy-turvy world!

As he was brooding over the disaster of his personal life, he did not hear the sound of a four-wheel-drive coming near to him until a familiar voice called him:

"Hello there, dear brother-in-law!"

He turned around and saw Margaret at the wheel of her vehicle, a slight smile on her face.

"What are you doing here?"

"Invading Scotland! Seriously, I'm escaping from my sister's boring sycophants! They were wasting my day!"

Philip smirked: his sister-in-law was the best person to understand how he felt in this oppressive world. Even if they did not have the same character, Philip and Margaret managed to get along. Especially since they had to tolerate Elizabeth's obnoxious behavior for some years.

"If you talk about the Daniels and the Furlingtons, you took the best decision! I would do the same!"

"Is it not what you're currently doing? Escaping from my dear sister at long strides?"

The prince shrugged.

"Maybe..."

"I see... Fancy a ride?"

"Is it risky?" joked Philip.

"Oh, don't be such a coward! Get in the car!"

"How could I refuse such a lovely request?" said her brother-in-law with irony as he climbed in the car!

Soon after, they were driving into the Scottish countryside, enjoying the view at every turn. Philip admitted that his legs needed some rest after his long walk.

After half an hour of driving, Margaret stopped the car, and they appreciated the point of view.

"Well, I have to tell: you are an excellent driver!"

"Oh, I had a good teacher! Dad and I used to drive there when I was younger!"

She sadly smiled.

"I remember his laugh... He told me how bold I was!"

"I wish I could have those kinds of memories with my own father!" answered Philip.

"Sure, you were not lucky!"

Both stayed silent, watching the calm landscape until Margaret spoke again.

"If Dad were among us, he would never let Elizabeth behaving that way with you or the children!"

"You're probably right. Unfortunately, I don't know what your mother thinks about it!"

"Don't worry about that! She often criticizes Lizzie for her lack of maternal love! She said that the monarch of Great Britain should never forget both their royal obligations and their parental duties!"

"Regrettably, your sister does not really care about it!"

Margaret scoffed.

"You bet she did not listen! My dear sister repeats that her children are more a burden than a blessing!"

She turned towards Philip.

"Speaking of that, make some effort, damn it! It looks like you're trying to avoid them at any cost! Don't you love your children?"

This question hit Philip like a punch!

"What are you talking about? Of course, I love my children!"

"Then, act like it! They are craving affection, and they cannot count on their mother for that! They need their father, and if you don't do anything to rectify the situation, you will regret it!"

The Duke of Edinburgh sighed.

"I know that it's not an excuse, but nobody taught me how to be a father. I tried my best, but I only witness the disaster I've created!"

"Don't be so pessimistic, or you're going to make me depressed! Sincerely, between you and my sister, you are the better parent! You just have to improve it, and it's not too late!"

She frowned.

"But I can't even believe Lizzie dared cheat on you with this jackass!"

"You know the name of her lover?"

"The most recent one? Of course, I know his name... and you know him too!"

"Who is it?"

"You won't like it... But it's Roger Acherville, one of your squires!"

Enraged, Philip struck the dashboard.

"DAMN IT! THIS RASCAL BOWED AND SCRAPED IN FRONT OF ME, BUT SHARED MY WIFE'S BED!"

Margaret bit her lip: she wished she never had to tell that news to her brother-in-law, but she must tell him the truth, even if it hurts like hell!

"I'm sorry, Philip. I'd prefer never tell you this..."

He interrupted her.

"No, you were right. You did well to tell me who my wife is cheating on me with right now!"

Philip was upset. How could Elizabeth do such a thing to him, after all they have been through together?

"But now I don't know what to do ..."

He turned to Margaret and saw that she was wearing a big, mischievous smile.

The kind of smile that announced that she had an idea behind her head and that didn't promise well.

"What are you going to tell me again as a twisted idea?"

"You know the law of retaliation: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth..."

"I know this motto, indeed. And then?"

"Well, what I mean is... I allow you to get your own back on my sister!"

Philip opened his eyes wide: he thought he hallucinated? Did Margaret just authorize him to cheat on Elizabeth? 

Years ago, she would have torn his eyes out if he ever imagines that possibility!

But now, the circumstances were different, and she was his best ally in Buckingham Palace.

Moreover, the idea of finding solace in someone else's arms was not unpleasant... 

He nodded.

"Alright! You convinced me!"

"Really?"

"Yes! After all, why my dear wife should be the one having fun?"

"That's the spirit, dear in-law! Before you start finding a lover, do you know what would make me happy?"

"What?"

"Shave that goddamn beard! You look like a caveman!"

The prince consort laughed: he almost forgot his bushy beard!

"What is the problem with that? It looks nice to me! People would think that I am an explorer! Or a Viking: after all, I am a Danish prince! Or maybe Socrates, as I am a Greek Prince too!"

"Of course, and I look like the lost twin of Marilyn Monroe!" she taunted the Duke while playfully punching him on the shoulder.

The two royals laughed and spoke for a long time, far from their daily issues. After all, this day was the beginning of a new journey for Philip Mountbatten...

Two months later. August 1972

Philip adjusted his bow tie: he hoped he wasn't doing anything stupid by accepting Margaret's invitation to one of her parties. She had promised him that he would not be bored and that he might find the perfect person.

He sighed: he knew he was running a risk looking for a mistress. 

If ever the press caught him in the arms of a woman, his reputation was gone! And his wife would not hesitate to put him down!

Straightening his chest, he gave a satisfied smile and got ready to join his sister-in-law when his son Andrew entered the room:

"Good evening, father ... Oh, you are very elegant!"

"Thanks, Andrew."

"Are you going out tonight?"

"Indeed, yes. I'm accompanying your Aunt Margaret to one of her parties. According to her, I am the guest of honor."

The 12-year-old boy nodded.

"Does ... Mother approve of this?"

"I have to. At least, your father will stop my sister from doing something stupid!" answered a familiar voice.

With these words, Queen Elizabeth entered the room. Dressed in a pearl gray satin dress, she had put on her most exquisite jewelry. She looked stern, almost disdainful. 

"Good evening, mother. You are beautiful tonight!"

The queen ignored the compliment and turned to her husband.

"Can I count on you so that Margaret doesn't end up dead drunk in another man's bed?"

"I'll do my best ... And you, what have you planned tonight?"

"I'm attending a reception at the Indian Embassy. As for Mother, she spends the evening with her lady-in-waiting, and Edward stays with them."

"And what about Charles and Anne?"

"I have no idea, and I don't want to know!"

Philip raised his eyebrows.

"I thought every parent should be worried about their children's nighttime activities!"

She replied in an annoyed tone.

"Oh, don't say such nonsense! They are old enough to fend for themselves! Besides, I have other priorities!"

She glanced at the clock that sat quietly in the back of the room.

"If you have nothing else to tell me, I'll leave you! I have to go to the embassy! Have a good evening!"

She turned on her heels and took off at a brisk pace, leaving her husband and son alone.

The Duke saw the sad look on Andrew's face and felt pain for him: how many times has he witnessed his wife ignore their children's words?

He tried to cheer his son up:

"Come on, it's nothing. I'm sure your compliment made your mother happy!"

Andrew replied:

"Don't bother too much about it, father. She does not care what I tell her. And she does the same to Charles, Anne, and even Edward!"

The young boy turned his gaze to his father:

"Even you, she snubs you all the time!"

"Well ... let's say that between adults, things can get more complicated!"

"Well, that doesn't make you want to be an adult!"

Philip laughed at the clear opinion of his third child.

"Don't worry, it won't be like this all the time! I'm sure you'll find someone you get along with!"

"I hope so too..."

Changing the subject, Philip asked:

"So what about you? What are you doing tonight?"

"I'm staying with Grandma and Edward. At least, I am sure to have a good evening!"

"I think so too. Well, I have to leave you: if I arrive late, your aunt might strangle me!"

"What are you waiting for? Go ahead!"

"I'm going! See you tomorrow!"

"See you tomorrow, father!"

Philip kissed his son on the forehead before heading outside the palace, where a limousine awaited him.

He got into the back of the vehicle and ordered his driver:

"We can go, Henry! Let's go to Princess Margaret's residence!"

"Right away, Your Highness!"

And the vehicle set off, taking the prince to the place of the party.

A few minutes later, he arrived outside Kensington Palace, where several luxury cars were already parked in the driveway.

With a steady step, he entered the house where a butler greeted him with deference:

"Welcome to Kensington Palace, Your Royal Highness."

"Thank you. Could you tell the Princess that I have arrived?"

"She's in the main living room, Your Highness. If you please follow me, sir ..."

The Duke of Edinburgh followed the servant into a large room with dancing music and laughter.

Philip spotted Margaret, in her best dress, chatting happily with her guests.

The butler walked up to his employer and announced:

"Lady Snowden, His Royal Highness Duke Philip of Edinburgh has arrived."

"Perfect! He's coming at the right time! Thanks, Howard!" Margaret exclaimed before going to greet her brother-in-law.

"Good evening, Philip. I see you dressed up… But you still haven't shaved your goddamn beard! What did I tell you?"

“This must be my rebellious side…” smirked Philip.

This remark amused the princess, who grinned.

"You got the point!"

She took his wrist.

"Come on! I have some lovely people to introduce you to!"

And so Philip became acquainted with singers, actors, dancers, musicians, artists, and other socialites of good English society.

Suddenly, he noticed the presence of a young man who was talking to some artists.

Although he tried to stay focused on the conversation, he found it difficult to take his eyes off this mysterious young man.

The latter had dark skin, raven hair, and intense ebony eyes. Dressed in an elegant black suit, he was rather slender and had elegant hands.

Philip saw that he was wearing light makeup that showed off his face. 

Margaret saw that her brother-in-law seemed hypnotized by the young man. She smiled:

"Tell me, Philip, would you like me to do the introductions with that handsome brunette over there?"

"What? Come on, Margaret, you don't have to ..."

"No way! Follow me!"

Letting out a long sigh, the Duke followed the Princess, who addressed her guests:

"So, are you having fun?"

"Absolutely, Maggie! This night is awesome!"

"I am delighted about it!"

She turned to the man who accompanied the mysterious young man.

"Jonathan, you nasty little secretive! You did not present me this delicious young person who accompanies you!"

"Where are my good manners? Margaret, Prince Philip, let me introduce you to Piero De Angelis! He is a model of your husband Anthony!"

"I should have guessed! Anthony has always had an eye for beauty!"

The British princess turned to the man named Piero.

"And you, my dear, how do you like this evening? Are you having fun, I hope?"

"Oh yes, Your Highness. I'm having a great evening!"

The prince noticed that he had a voice that was soft enough for a man.

"I am delighted about it!" smiled Margaret, who nudged Philip lightly.

The latter, having understood the message, cleared his throat before asking:

"Like that, your name is Piero? Like the character from commedia dell'arte?"

"Not quite, but I admit it sounds like it! My name is spelled P-I-E-R-O, while the character is spelled P-I-E-R-R-O-T. That is all the difference!"

"I see ... When you take a closer look, you look a bit like him!"

"Oh, really? Do I look melancholic?"

"No, but your makeup is as subtle as his!"

His sister-in-law slapped her forehead: she feared Philip might bring out one of his sharp sense of humor. His jokes tend to upset those involved. 

However, she did not expect Piero to respond maliciously:

"Beware, Your Highness: appearances are often deceptive. For example, when I look at you, I can say that it must be several centuries since you last saw a shaving foam!"

This gibe amused Margaret, who gave a fit of laughter, while the other guests gasped in horror: how dared this young commoner speaking to the prince consort with such poor manners?

As for Philip, he was taken aback: no one ever ventured to respond to one of his jokes. But he had to say: Piero had some spirit, and he liked that!

He laughed:

"Well played! I appreciate people with some character!"

Philip offered his hand to the young man:

"I know when I lost the game."

Smiling, the young Mister De Angelis shook hands with the prince:

"It was an honor verbally sparring with a member of the Royal family!"

At the second their hands touched, Philip felt like electricity went all over his body. He thought it has been years since he underwent such emotion... 

As for Piero, he was mesmerized: he always found Prince Philip attractive when he saw him on official pictures, but now, the young man could affirm that the prince consort was handsome, to say the least. 

The young man also observed that Philip's piercing eyes hid something else, but he could not tell what: sadness? Or melancholy? Hope? 

Yet, he was sure that the Duke of Edinburgh was not as happy as he seemed.

When they stopped shaking hands, Piero bowed respectfully before Philip:

"It was a pleasure speaking with you, sir."

"The pleasure was mine, Signore De Angelis."

Amused, the young man slightly bowed his head before he turned his heels and walked away.

Philip smirked: this young Piero was the most interesting man he ever met so far.

He glanced at Margaret, who smirked slightly. Looks like she had something in her mind...

"What?"

"Nothing... I just confirm that you find your match!" she muttered as she sipped her glass of Martini.

Rolling his eyes, Philip answered:

"Please, do not make overly ambitious plans!"

"What? Do not give me that stern look!"

Shaking his head in disbelief, Philip glanced at the young man with a sly smile on his face: he had the feeling that Piero would have an intriguing role in the future...

Two weeks later, at Kensington Palace.

In the main living room of the palace, Philip and Margaret talked about many gossips and their respective marriages.

"I'm glad to hear that you and Anthony are on better terms!"

"Yes. I would not lie, it was struggling. But, in the end, it is worth fighting for!"

The prince nodded before sighing:

"I really hoped that things would get better between Elizabeth and me. Unfortunately, I have to certify that it only worsens! She avoids me most of the time, and I am sure she pretends to have different appointments to be with this Acherville!"

His sister-in-law puts a sympathetic hand on his arm.

"I am sincerely sorry for this, Philip."

"Thank you, Margaret. But, my hardship only strengthens my desire to see someone else... Someone who can love me for who I am!"

An impish smile came across Margaret's face.

"A little bird tells me that you have a specific young man in your mind, am I right?"

The Duke of Edinburgh raised his hands in defeat.

"There's no fooling you!"

The princess squealed in delight.

"I knew it! I saw this little sparkle in your eyes that says a lot about your feelings!"

"Wait a minute... Are not you upset by the fact that I may be romantically involved with a man?" 

She shrugged.

"As if I care! Choose whoever you want to sleep with, as long as it gets on Lizzie's nerves!"

"I recognize your open-minded character!" chuckled Philip.

"Indeed."

"Speaking of him, what can you tell me about this Piero De Angelis?"

"Are you reading on my mind? I was about to tell you what I know so far!"

"Go ahead!"

She cleared her throat and answered:

"Well, I asked my best friend, Lady Anne Tennant, to give me some pieces of information about him. According to her, he was born in a middle-class family who fled Italy during World War Two. Loving parents, close relationships with his siblings. A nice life, to sum up. 

He is six years older than Charles. She also told me that he graduated from Oxford, but he prefers modeling. He sometimes worked as a tutor for children of noble families. I approve of his model career: he has such good looks! It would be a shame not to take advantage of it!"

"Sure... What about his temperament? His hobbies?"

"As far as I know, he is an artist: he loves drawing, sculpting, dancing, taking artistic pictures, painting, acting, and singing! A perfect artist, I tell you. Those who know him say that he is patient, charming, cultivated, smart, polite, and humble... He has some humor, but you have already noticed it. Ah, I almost forgot! He has some... unusual tastes!"

Philip raised an eyebrow, puzzled.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't imagine something scandalous! It's just that he loves good fashion, jewels, and perfumes."

"He has a fondness for feminine things..."

"Exactly. Is it not a problem?"

"Oh, I would handle... At least, I'll have someone to give those kinds of presents!"

"That's the Philip I know! I might add that he currently lives in the area of Westbourne, in the neighborhood of Notting Hill... which is not far from here!"

"You planned everything, did not you?"

"I learn to anticipate, dear in-law! He lives in a small house, so you won't be disturbed by potential housemates."

Philip smiled before saying:

"Alright. So, am I supposed to go there, and ask him out?"

Her grin confused the prince consort.

"Oh, dear... That won't be necessary!"

As Philip was about to ask what she meant, a butler appeared:

"Your Highness, Mister De Angelis is here. Shall I let him in?"

"Perfect, just in time! Let him in, Howard!"

The prince could not believe his ears:

"You invite him?"

"Of course, dear in-law! Like this, you would get to know each other better!"

At the same time, Piero entered the room, escorted by the butler. Margaret gave her warmest smile towards the young man:

"Piero, caro mio! What a pleasure to see you! How are you since the last time?"

"I am fine, thank you. I did not expect an invitation from you..."

He noticed the presence of Philip and bowed:

"Your Highness..."

"Mister De Angelis..."

Suddenly, Margaret stood up from her place and said:

"Well, you know what? I'll pop over Lady Anne and picking some pastries, while you two have a nice little conversation. I would not be too long..."

"What? But..." started Philip.

"No protest in my house! Alright, see you later!"

She turned her heels and walked out of the palace, followed by her butler.

The two men stood silent, looking at each other. Piero broke the silence as he tried a joke:

"I see that you finally shaved your beard..."

The prince chuckled:

"Yes, indeed. As you can see, my interview with the shaving foam went well."

"I hope my joke didn't offend you."

"Absolutely not. I'm fond of that kind of blunt humor, and I was pretty happy to find someone to share it with!"

"You see me honored, Your Highness."

Philip shook his head negatively.

"No formalities with me: we are not at Buckingham Palace! You can call me Philip!"

Piero was surprised by this inquiry but didn't really pay attention:

"However you like, Philip. In that case, you can call me Piero. Or Peter, if you prefer."

"Understood, Piero."

The young man asked:

"Did your wife ask you to shave?"

Piero regretted asking that question because he saw a glimmer of sadness in the Duke's eyes.

The latter sighed:

"No, I was the one who took that initiative. And to be honest, my wife doesn't really care about my hair choices. In fact, she doesn't really care about me at all!"

This revelation surprised Piero: he did not expect Prince Philip to make such a confession to him about his married life!

"You ... are you arguing?"

"If only that was all that! But unfortunately, there is also indifference, contempt, and estrangement!"

"I am sincerely sorry for you, Your Highness. But you know, all may not be lost: things will surely work out ..."

Philip laughed bitterly:

"How I would like to be as optimistic as you! But when the person you love goes to seek passion elsewhere, you no longer have any illusions!"

"Indeed, seen from that angle, it is a bad start to save a marriage ... But why are you telling me all this? You do not have to tell me these things."

With these words, the prince approached the young artist and replied:

“That's right, I'm not supposed to tell anyone about it. But I've been looking for someone for so long who could listen to me and understand me. I'm tired of feeling isolated… Nonetheless, ever since I met you, Piero, it's like the light has returned to my life. Yes, I know we barely got to know each other, but I've always trusted my instincts when it comes to people I meet, and I've been right every time. "

Piero began to understand where the duke was going and panicked:

"Huh? Oh no! No, no, no, and three times no!"

"What do you mean?" Philip asked, confused.

"I can see exactly what you want to ask, and I refuse! I don't want to be a simple consolation prize! I saw what it was like to be the lover of a king or a prince, and it doesn't make you want to be one! "

He continued in a calm tone:

"I have no doubt that you are a handsome man with many qualities, but I cannot accept being just a passing lover until the day you reconcile with the queen. I do not like the idea of being a simple shoulder to cry on that you give up as soon as everything is better. "

Philip was speechless: he expected everything but that! However, he should have waited a bit before declaring his love. But the tension in his relationship was so unbearable that he despaired finding someone he could love unconditionally.

And this young Piero was the person he needed ... he still had to accept!

Philip dropped to his knees in front of the young man, and took his hands between his while looking at him with pleading eyes:

"I swear Piero: if you were to become my lover, it's because I feel like no love exists anymore between Elizabeth and me. I suffered from abandonment when I was just a child, and I know only too well the harm it does. I would never do this to a person who is dear to me..."

"But get up, damn it! If we were seen like that ..." Piero stammered, panicked.

"I don't care! I know you are suspicious of beautiful promises, but I swear to you that I will never disappoint you. You will always be showered with gifts ..."

"Hang on! I'm not a materialist!"

"I know, I know ... I will make sure to spend time with you, I will call you regularly ... I will be the most devoted lover that can exist!"

The young man laughs lightly:

"Please, it feels like a Barbara Cartland novel!"

"Thank you for this unflattering comparison!" grumbled the prince, who smiled.

Philip stood up and asked:

"What are you going to decide?"

Piero bit his lip: to tell the truth, he was torn between two feelings. On the one hand, he was scared to become the lover of the Duke of Edinburgh. He did not want to betray the Queen and being the next prey of the press!

But on the other side, he had to admit that he was always fascinated by Prince Philip and his magnetic charm. And then there was this vulnerability in this man that the young man found irresistible.

After a few minutes of thought, he replied:

"I admit that this somewhat surprising declaration of love took me by surprise. And even if I do not want to be an accomplice in adultery, I want to give you a chance!"

Reassured, Philip dared to kiss the young man's tanned forehead and replied:

"I promise you won't regret it! How much time do I have ahead of me?"

"Two months. I think that will give me time to see if I can give it a go or not."

"And that will be more than enough to convince you!" Philip laughed.

10 months later. May 1973

The spring sun sneaked through the curtains, caressing Piero's sleepy face.

The latter woke up slowly and opened his eyes, a smile on his face.

He turned and fondly looked at his sleeping lover. 

The young man smiled when he saw Philip so appeased: he was happy to have accepted the prince consort's proposal.

At the same time, the latter succeeded in his probationary period: he was a considerate, loving, affectionate, and caring boyfriend. 

Piero had never had so many presents in his life: the number of beautiful clothes that filled his wardrobe was impressive. And what about the magnificent jewelry that Philip brought back from his official trips?

All this had convinced the young man to become Prince Philip's lover, but also his confidant: it was to him that the Duke of Edinburgh told of his marital misfortunes and his doubts about his ability to be a good father for their children. And Piero felt privileged to be one of the few to know Philip's emotional wounds.

But what made their relationship so intense was when they had sex. Although the prince was a middle-aged man, he was an experienced and vigorous lover. The first time they had sex, they took their time to get to know each other's bodies better and to have fun.

The other times, the antics were more intense, even passionate ... as was the case last night, when they "celebrated" Philip's return from an official trip to America.

He remembered the feel of Philip's rough yet gentle hands on his body, their bodies moving against each other, their cries of pleasure filling the air... It was a pleasant experience, even if it was the umpteenth time they made love.

Of course, the two lovers would like to see each other more often, but they had to be discreet so as not to attract the attention of the media, let alone that of the Queen.

But hey, that didn't bother Piero who was delighted not to become the new darling of London.

Suddenly he felt Philip stretch and wake up. The prince turned to his lover and smiled at him:

"Hello, mein Liebe. You are very early."

"To believe that I took your bad habit!" the young man smiled.

"But it's not a bad habit to be early in the morning. On the contrary, it gives me more time to enjoy your presence ..." the duke replied before kissing his lover.

"Speaking of having time to spare, wasn't it today that you promised Charles to have lunch with him?"

"Damn, I almost forgot!" Philip exclaimed, hopping out of bed before rushing into the bathroom.

"What a scatterbrain!" Piero laughed while getting dressed.

"I heard you!"

"That was the goal, amore!" replied the young man, teasingly.

5 minutes later, the Duke comes out of the bathroom, ready to return to his obligations.

"Am I presentable?"

"Honestly, you are still handsome!"

Smiling, Philip kissed his lover's cheek:

"I'll call you tonight, I promise."

"I will wait impatiently for your call ... Come on, go join your son!"

"I'm going right now. See you tonight!"

"See you tonight!"

As the Duke left the house, Peter lay still on his bed, a thoughtful smile on his lips.

He was glad that the relationship between Philip and his children had improved, especially thanks to his advice.

Piero had relied on his life with his parents and siblings to empower his lover to be a more present father to his children.

Speaking of which, Piero would love to meet his lover's offspring: seeing how Philip talks about it, they must be very nice young people.

He would love to talk about the arts with Charles, who seemed to be very passionate about it. 

He would also appreciate being able to walk with Anne and talk about lots of things or reassure her about her future as a young bride. 

He would love to give fashion advice to Andrew who was already paying attention to his appearance when he was only 13 years old.

 And he would be happy to spend time with Edward, the youngest of the siblings. 

This boy worried his father a lot because he was silent and always seemed sad...

Suddenly the phone rang, interrupting Piero's thoughts. 

He picked up the phone:

"Hello?"

"**Dear Piero, how are you?**"

"Oh, hello, Margaret. I'm fine, thank you. How about you?"

"**Oh, it's okay. As much as I wish I hadn't had tea with Sally Frodenborough! This woman is so boring, I thought I was going to fall asleep!**"

The young man laughed.

"Now do you understand why I politely decline her invitations for tea?"

"**You'll tell me so much ... But let's forget about it! Tell me instead about your relationship with my esteemed brother-in-law! How is it going?**"

"It's a fairy tale, I can't say better!"

Piero knew he owed it all to Margaret: she was the one who introduced them at that party at Kensington Palace. Since then, she had become an ally and a friend of the couple and did not hesitate to invite them to her home so that they could meet again.

All this with the benevolent complicity of her husband, Anthony.

Over time, the princess and the young artist became good friends, and she often invited Piero to have tea at her place.

"**Glad to hear that, darling. Besides, I have to say that your relationship is very positive for Philip. He is happier, more serene, and closer to his children. You did a great job!**"

"I only encouraged him, he did the rest!"

"**Don't be so modest! However, I think my sister is suspecting something!**"

Hearing this, Piero felt a chill run through his spine: if the queen ever learned that her husband was cheating on her with a simple artist, he feared the worst!

"When you say she suspects something, do you mean she suspects Philip of adultery?"

"**No, I wouldn't go that far. But she can see the change in Philip's mood and she knows it's not her responsibility. She's not really trying to find out, but let's be careful!**"

"You're right ... But, I admit that there are times I wish I could spend more time with Philip. I understand he's doing his best without raising suspicion, but ..."

"**I see what you mean, and I understand you ... Oh wait: I just got an idea!**"

"Again? But it never stops"

"**My dad always said I was the most imaginative of the family. Okay, here's what we could do...**"

A week later, at Buckingham Palace.

In one of the palace rooms, Queen Elizabeth was having tea with her mother, Queen Mum.

"But what is Margaret doing? She should have been here since 10 minutes ago!" the sovereign said impatiently.

"Don't be so harsh on your sister, Lilibeth. I've heard that traffic in London is a bit chaotic right now. If so, she got stuck in a traffic jam."

"Maybe ..." Elizabeth replied.

Suddenly a servant entered the room and announced:

"Her Royal Highness, Princess Margaret, your Majesty!"

"Finally, here she is! Let her in, thank you!"

The servant shifted and let Margaret in, accompanied by a dark, smartly dressed young man.

"Hello, my dear sister! Hello, mom! Sorry for the inconvenience, but there was an accident near Piccadilly Circus which disrupted all traffic. I thought we would never get there!"

"You see, Elizabeth: I was right ..."

"Indeed, mum. But tell me, Margaret, who is this man with you?"

"I was just going to explain it to you: you see, I thought back to your history of tutoring for Andrew and Edward. And it turns out that this young man, Piero De Angelis, worked as a tutor in very good families. Here, I have some letters of recommendation from them. " she said, handing out a few missives.

Elizabeth took the letters and read them in silence. After reading it, she said:

"My word, your former employers are heap praise on you, Mr. De Angelis. They compliment your pedagogy, your intellect, as well as your patience with children."

She gave a slight smile.

"Since my sister seems to find you suitable for her nephews, I think we can take you on for a trial period."

Piero respectfully bowed while giving the monarch a hand kiss.

"It would be a great honor for me to serve you, Your Majesty!"

"This young man looks very pleasant to me. In my opinion, your sons will be in good hands!" said the Queen Mother, amused.

"Thank you for placing your trust in me, Your Excellency!" Piero replied, giving a slight bow.

At the same time, the door opened and Philip entered the room.

"Ah, Philip: at the right time! I present to you Andrew and Edward's new tutor."

Seeing who it was, Philip thought he was having a heart attack: but what was Piero doing here? It was too risky!

When he saw Margaret by his side, it didn't take long for him to realize that she had yet come up with a completely crazy idea.

Straightening up slightly, he cleared his throat and politely said:

"Welcome, sir ..."

"My name is Piero De Angelis, Your Highness. It is a huge honor to meet you in person!"

The duke refrained from smiling: he had forgotten that his lover was an excellent actor. And he had just proven his talent in front of everyone!

"And how did he convince you to hire him?"

"He was warmly recommended to me by several high society families. All were satisfied with the work of Mr. De Angelis. It seemed logical to me to have a competent person to supervise the education of your youngest sons."

"Sounds perfectly fine to me!" replied the prince consort.

Satisfied with her husband's response, the Queen said:

"Perfect. Then maybe you could introduce Mister De Angelis to his future students?"

"But of course. If you will follow me, sir ..."

And as they were about to leave, Margaret followed on their heels:

"I'm going with them, just to make sure Philip would not terrorize the poor schoolmaster!"

"Hey, I am not a monster!" scoffed Philip.

The three left the room. The duke waited to be far from his wife to scolding his lover and his sister-in-law.

"What's got into you? Did you ever think about the risk of being caught?"

"Oh, don't be such a coward! I thought you would be pleased to have your lovebird here!" whispered Margaret.

"And I thought it would be easier for you if I work here. You won't have to find excuses to see me... Besides, I wanted to meet your children."

The prince consort raised an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon?"

"You heard me: I wanted to meet your children. You talked about them since we started dating, that I aspired to know them better."

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed: it would be a miracle if Margaret and Piero did not drive him crazy. But, at least, he would manage to spend quality time with his sweetheart. So, why not take the risk?

"Fine, you convinced me. But, we have to intensify our discretion. Otherwise, we will be doomed!"

"I'll be careful, don't worry!" promised Piero as he gently held his lover's hand.

"Aw, you are so cute!" mockingly cooed Margaret.

"Please, Maggie: stop killing the mood!" grumbled the prince consort, rolling his eyes.

4 months later. August 1973.

"How do you find my drawing, Piero?"

"Let me look at it... Oh, it's beautiful! You have some talent, Edward!"

The young boy happily giggled: he really appreciated his new tutor. Unlike his predecessor, Piero was kind, patient, funny, and really interesting. Thanks to him, the little prince quickly understood his lesson by heart, and his grades improved. The same evolution can be noticed for Andrew: the teenager preferred learning with Piero to listening to his teachers at school.

"You think I am talented?"

"Absolutely! And for who you draw this?"

"For Anne! It would be her present for her wedding!"

"That's absolutely sweet, Edward. I am sure that she would love it!"

Speaking of the princess, she entered the room.

"Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis! Hello, Eddie!"

"Hi, Annie!"

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. How are you today?"

"Fine, thanks. I just come back from a horse-riding session with Mark!"

"Oh, lovely. How it went?"

"It went nice until it started raining. But we finished fast, so I would not soil the clean wooden floors of Buckingham Palace!" snickered Anne.

"Annie! Look what I've drawn for you!" cheerfully exclaimed Edward as he handed his drawing to his sister.

"Oh, thank you: I love it! I will show it to Mark: he would be impressed!"

"Can I draw something for him?"

"Why don't you ask him when he will come back?"

"Alright, I will wait!"

At the same time, Andrew entered the room, dressed in a nice suit.

"Good grief! I thought Mr. Brownsfield would never let us go!"

"Watch your language, young man! If your mother hears you, you will end up being lectured for hours!" gently advised Piero.

"I know, I know... But I am so relieved to be here!"

"I have noticed!"

Anne lightly cleared her throat.

"Piero, can we talk... in private with Andrew and you?"

"Of course! Edward, could you go with your grandmother? I have to discuss some important topics with your siblings."

"Are we finishing the lesson?"

"Yes, indeed. You can go!"

"Alright!" nodded the young boy as he exited the salon.

Soon as Edward left, the young man asked:

"What do you want to talk about, Anne?"

The princess sighed before answering:

"Well, it's about Charles... He is not well."

"Do you mean he is ill?"

"Depressed would be more accurate!"

"Oh, dear! And what depress him?"

Andrew explained:

"Well, his ex-girlfriend got married in July! And he did not really cope with their separation, months ago!"

Piero nodded: he knew that Charles was heart-broken since Camilla Shand, his former sweetheart, ended their love story last year. But he did not expect to be downcast to this point.

"And do you want me... to have a conversation with him?"

"Anne and I thought it would be helpful. After all, you are close to his age!"

"Mark tried to cheer his mood, but it did not work well!"

"Mh, I see... Fine, I will see what I can do!"

The two princes seemed relieved.

"Thank you for your help, Piero."

"That's what I am supposed to do. Where is he?"

"In the gardens. He needed some air..."

Thanking Anne and Andrew, Piero walked downstairs to the gardens where he found Charles, wandering like a lost soul.

"Charles?"

The Crown Prince looked at the schoolmaster and the latter saw deep grief in his eyes.

Slightly sighing, Piero kindly asked:

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I... I don't know."

"As you want. Perhaps it would take a weight off your mind..."

The prince breathed before asking:

"Could you walk with me... please?"

"Sure, of course."

The young man joined Charles, and they started walking through the gardens.

"I don't know how it happened... I should have known that she favored that Parker-Bowles over me! But I still clung to the last straw of hope until I heard of their engagement!"

"I'm sorry for your heartbreak, Charles. But that was another life lesson, even though it hurts..."

The Prince of Wales sadly sighed.

"And as if it was not painful enough, Mother still pressures me to find a suitable bride... Even Father worried about it!"

"You are only 25 years old: you will find her, I feel it!"

"If only my dear parents were as optimistic as you, Piero. But no, they repeated all day long that Father married Mother when he was my age, and I'm exhausted hearing it all the time!"

"What does your grandmother think about it?"

"She says that I should not hurry to find my future wife, because a hasty marriage would inevitably end in a disaster!"

Piero nodded.

"Your grandmother is right, Charles: if you only follow what your duties command, you will bitterly regret your decision for the rest of your life. Of course, you have to find your future Queen, but you must love her as much as she loves you!"

He saw tears forming in Charles's eyes.

"I know but... I feel like everything I do is not enough for my parents. Am I just a good for nothing?"

Instinctively, the young artist knew that he would break the etiquette... but who cares? So, he did hug Charles in a comforting embrace, gently stroking his back.

"It's okay, Charles. I am here."

The prince did not cry, but he felt relieved that someone finally comforted him, so he hugged back Piero.

"I know this is not very formal, but I thought it would help you!"

"To hell with formality! I needed someone listening to me..."

They stopped the hug and Charles stated:

"I understand why Andrew and Edward appreciated you, Mister De Angelis: your patience and your kindness are helpful for the four of us!"

Piero shrugged.

"I just... do what I think is the best for everyone!"

"And I am glad that someone like you ensures our well-being..."

The young man smiled.

"You have no idea how much I am honored to have your trust, Charles. Listen: I will talk with your parents about it, and we will sort it out!"

"Thank you, Piero."

Unbeknownst to the two men, Philip was looking at them from the window of his office. The Duke of Edinburgh smiled while seeing his lover bonding with his son: indeed, he was happy that his four children appreciated Piero. Even though neither of them is ready to tell the princes the truth about their relationship: they have to wait...

In the evening...

"Do you want your son going bonkers? Stop pressuring him about his love life!"

"But he is still unmarried! At his age..."

"Yes, yes, I know the story: at his age, you were already married to Elizabeth!"

Philip pinched the bridge of his nose: Piero and he argued about Charles's single status. His beloved artist thought that his eldest son would go down into depression because of the familial pressure.

"Piero, I understand your concern about Charles, but he knows his duties..."

"Oh, please: don't start lecturing me about duties! If you were that meticulous about duties, you would never choose to cheat on your wife!"

"Don't muddle up things, would you? She started the war!"

"Don't change the subject, would you? We are talking about your son, in case you forget it!"

Piero sighed.

"Charles believed that he felt like a failure towards you. And he can't count on his mother to dismiss his fears! For God's sake, be more supportive of your son!"

"But..."

"No buts! You have to admit that your eldest son is not your carbon copy!"

"I admitted it! But people start talking: he is unmarried, had no official girlfriends, and he prefers attending parties! Rumors are spreading all around the kingdom."

His lover gave him a dark look and said with a cold tone:

"Let me ask you this simple question, Philip of Edinburgh: what matters the most for you? The public image or the well-being of your son?"

Philip stayed silent, much to Piero's displeasure:

"Fine, I see... You know what? You have all night to think about it."

He turned his heels and walked away.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Did you really think I will spend the rest of the night with someone who does not listen to my advice? I really want to help you, Philip, and especially because I love you. But if you don't pull your weight, there is nothing more I can do. Good night!"

As he watched his lover walking away from him, the prince stood, desperate and worried. He messed up everything with his children, and now he messed up his love affair!

Philip sighed: why everything was so complicated? But, he had to acknowledge that Piero was right: he went back to his wrong habits, once again. 

And if he wanted to save what mattered the most to him, Philip had no other choice: he had to repair his faults...

14th November 1973.

The Westminster Abbey bells happily rang in the air. Indeed, the United Kingdom celebrated the wedding of Princess Anne and Captain Mark Phillips. A joyous day for the kingdom, and also for the royal family... Well, almost for Philip. Of course, he was so proud to walk his daughter down the aisle: what kind of father would not be happy for his child on this special day?

But what saddened the prince consort was that Piero barely talked to him since their argument about Charles. He could not blame him: the young man cared more about Charles, Anne, Andrew, and Edward than their own mother. 

As he watched his lovely Anne and Mark exchanging their vows, the prince spotted Piero, sitting near the Duchess of Gloucester. 

He knew that his wife allowed the presence of the young man at the ceremony to look after Edward, who was the page boy of his sister.

Piero was dashing in his pearl-grey suit, his white gloves, and his perfectly combed dark hair. Philip never ceased to be amazed by the angelic beauty of his lover. If only they did not argue 4 months ago, the prince would have already told the young artist how amazing he was.

But the young man was not inclined to speak with him yet, and this situation saddened Philip. 

Meanwhile, Margaret saw the two lovers with a sad smile: she hoped that this argument between Piero and Philip would not last long, as she feared it would break her brother-in-law's heart. She knew that the young Mister De Angelis was the only one for Philip, and she could not let this match made in heaven falling apart. 

Margaret smiled as she got another idea: the wedding reception will be the perfect occasion for a reconciliation...

Soon as they reached Buckingham Palace for the wedding lunch, Margaret whispered to Philip:

"Please, I know that you suffer, but talk to him!"

"I want to, but every time I look in his eyes... I only see anger and sadness. And I am the one who upset him!"

She gently patted his shoulder.

"You know what? Weddings are the best occasion to prove our love... or heal a relationship."

She winked before walking away, congratulating the newlyweds. As he thought about Maggie's musings, Philip smirked: after all, he learned to never give up what he held dear. And he would never give up on Piero... 

Later that day, as the guests were too busy dancing, gossiping, or enjoying food, the prince slipped away from the crowd and wandered in the corridors when he spotted Piero in a room, retouching his make-up. 

Smiling, Philip entered and said:

"Oh, dear: you do not need to change anything. You are already beautiful!"

Startled, the young artist stammered:

"What are you doing here?"

"We need to talk, I think.

Piero raised an eyebrow: 

"Really? About what?"

Philip closed the door behind him before answering:

"We need to talk about us. It feels like years since I hold you in my arms..."

"And why you do not hold me in your arms, precisely?"

The prince sighed.

"Because of my stubbornness, we are apart. And I regret it every second since that night. You were right from the beginning, Piero: what is the purpose of your help if I did not listen to your advice? I should have known that you're the right person since you only wanted the best for me. My words might sound hollow, but I will be grateful to you for being here when I felt alone!"

The young man sighed before looking at his royal lover with a sheepish smile:

"I had to confess: at first, I did not speak to you because I wanted to be sure you learned your lesson. But then... I took pleasure letting you stew for a moment."

Philip was shocked.

"Are you bloody kidding me?"

"Not at all. Besides... I already forgive you, my stubborn Viking!"

The prince smirked:

"And they said Arlequin is the trickster in chief... Looks like they underestimated Pierrot!"

"And you love it!"

"Oh yes!"

Piero laughed wholeheartedly. Then, he stated:

"So, you said that you missed the sensation of holding me..."

He opened his arms:

"Why don't we make up for lost time?"

Philip did not need to be asked twice and rushed into his arms, kissing him feverishly. Their hands rediscovered their bodies, every touch drawing breathed moans of pleasure from the two lovers.

"I love you, Piero."

"Ti amo, Philip."

And while the kingdom celebrated the wedding, the prince and the artist rejoiced in their reunion. 

June 1975. Balmoral Castle.

The summer went well for the royal family, and everyone appreciated the peacefulness of the Scottish countryside. For Piero, it was like discovering another place. He was amazed by the soft colors of the countryside and the calm surroundings, far from the lively Londonian life. 

To be honest, he did not expect the Queen to invite him to spend some days at Balmoral, but apparently, Edward insisted, and she accepted. How could he refuse the opportunity to be closer to his dear Philip? 

However, they both tried to be careful as he did not want to be caught by Elizabeth or the Queen Mother. 

But everything changed one day, as Elizabeth left with some of her friends for a horse-riding stroll with some of her friends, and her dear Mister Acherville.

It did not bother Philip, as he took advantage of her absence to spend some time with his dear artist. Once his wife went away, he looked for Piero until he found him in the gallery room, looking at the different pictures hanging on the walls.

Coming near to him, the prince gently held the young man from behind and said:

"Are you judging the quality of the paintings?"

"Well, I have to be honest that the painters were talented. Your wife should add your own paintings!"

"Seriously? She said it would look out of place... Besides, you are far more talented than me!"

Piero chuckled:

"You flatterer!"

"It is the truth! You're my perfect little Da Vinci!"

The young man turned around and put his arms around Philip's neck:

"And you're my handsome Saint John the Baptist with a mischievous smile!"

"You like my mischievous part of me!"

"No, I don't like it... I adore it!" chuckled Piero before kissing his lover.

Amused, the prince answered the kiss with the same passion... until they heard a collective gasp of shock!

They turned around and saw Charles, Anne, Mark, Andrew, and Edward who stood near the door, astounded and silent.

Horrified, Philip stammered:

"I... I can explain everything..."

"You better explain, yes!" said Anne with a cold tone.

Mark closed the door behind them, preventing any gossiping from the staff.

"Now that we are alone, can you explain what happens?"

"This scene does not really need an explanation..." smirked Charles.

Ashamed, the prince started to explain:

"I guess that we do not have the choice. As you have noticed, your mother and I do not have a good relationship for some years. I thought that it would improve, but she decided to spend some time with another man. I was so desperate, and I neglected you - and I am sorry for that. And then, your aunt Margaret introduced me to Piero..."

"Auntie Maggie and her plans!" snickered Andrew.

"You got the point, Andrew. And so, at the very moment I knew Piero, I felt like something changed... To be honest, I felt that I fell in love again. I would be forever grateful to Piero for everything he did for me."

"Was it your idea to hire him as Andrew and Edward's tutor?" asked Charles.

"No, it was again Margaret's idea. And I saw how you felt better since he spends time with all of you!"

"Do you plan to tell us the truth one day?" asked Andrew.

"We aspired to, but I do not want you to see me as an intruder in your family. But I can assure you that I deeply love your father as he loves me!" explained Piero.

The five young people looked at each other before Edward answered:

"You know, Mister Piero, I don't mind if you are in love with Papa. Besides, you love all of us more than Mum does. So, I am happy to have you here with us!"

"He is right: at least, you listen to us and you try to encourage us, unlike Mother!" added Andrew.

"I do not really care about my parents' affairs, as we all know that their marriage is doomed. But now, let's be honest, Piero: you made him happy, and it matters the most for us!" stated Charles with a genuine smile.

"I have to confess that this is quite unusual... But, my dear Anne has a high opinion of you, Mister De Angelis, and so am I. Don't worry, we won't tell anyone about your affair!" smiled Mark.

"You see, Father, we all support you, and we are happy to have Piero with us at Buckingham Palace. So, there is no need to worry." grinned Anne.

The two lovers sighed with relief: at least, they accepted their relationship. 

"Thank you very much!" breathed Philip with a slight smile.

"You're welcome, Father. But, the next time you want to show Piero your affection... Try being discreet!" laughed Andrew.

"He takes that from you, dear!" chuckled Piero.

"I guess so..." sighed Philip, even if he could not help smiling.

It looked like, after all, that they gained new allies... 

27 August 1979.

In his house, Piero was dozing on his couch, reading a collection of poetry works by Oscar Wilde while he listened to some trendy music on the radio.

Suddenly, he heard the voice of a journalist interrupting the music:

"Ladies and gentleman, we interrupt our program as dreadful news has just been released by Buckingham Palace: today, Lord Louis Mountbatten, Admiral of the Fleet and former Viceroy of India, has been killed by a bomb planted aboard his fishing boat while he was spending his holiday with his family in his summer home in Mullaghmore, in the north-west of Ireland. 

We deplored also the tragic loss of his grandson Nicholas Knatchbull and Paul Maxwell, a young local crew member. The remaining people present on the boat when the attack happened, suffered from serious injuries and were transported to the closest hospital..."

Piero dropped his book, troubled: it could not be! He rushed to his phone and dialed Philip's number. After a few seconds, he heard his lover's voice:

"**Hello?**"

"Philip, it's me! I have just heard about your uncle! Is that true?"

The slight sobbing on the other side of the phone answered his question:

"**They... They murdered him, Piero! They killed him! And they took his grandson's life! How dared they?**"

"I am terribly sorry for your loss, my love. I know how much he was a loved one to you..."

After all, Louis Mountbatten was not only the uncle of Philip: he was his paternal figure, a role model he praised so many times. Piero could not imagine how his lover suffered from this tragic loss.

"My condolences, amore mio. You are in my prayers, you and your family. I hope that the injured will recover soon."

"I hope so... Thank you for your call."

"You're welcome. How are the children?"

"Charles is deeply upset, Anne is crying, Andrew cannot believe it, and Edward tried to cope with this tragedy."

"I imagine... Don't hesitate to comfort them."

"I will... I am sorry, but I have to quit: Elizabeth required my help to organize the funeral. I'll call you later."

"Don't worry, it's fine. See you later, my love."

"See you later, angelo mio!"

As he hung up, Piero felt bad for Philip: his lover endured so many hardships in his life that the young man wondered if he can handle this new tragedy... 

5th September 1979.

Sitting in his living-room, Peter watched the funeral of Louis Mountbatten on television. He watched the royal family, Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and her husband Denis, and some major figures of the kingdom attending the obsequies, all dressed in black and showing a sad expression on their faces. 

The young man wished he could attend the funeral, just to be here for Philip and comforting him. But it was the mourning of a family, and he did not belong to this family...

Later that day, he heard a knock on his door.

"I don't remember to entertain someone today..." muttered Piero as he opened the door.

Much to his surprise, Philip stood there.

"Philip? But what are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you... Because I have something to tell you. May I come in?"

"Of course!"

The young man stepped aside and let the prince enter the house. Then, he closed the door behind him and asked:

"Do you want something to drink?"

"No, thank you."

"Alright. May I know what are doing here?"

He noticed that Philip held a large box under his arm.

"Hm, what is this?"

The duke sighed before explaining:

"Since the murder of my uncle, I thought about everything that happened in my life, both good and bad memories. And then, I thought about us, and I realize how important you are to me since we started our relationship. I wish I had met you sooner, but there we are. This tragedy casts light on the most significant person in my life: you."

He opened the box, revealing a golden crown before he put the ornament at Piero's feet. Then, he gets on one knee and said:

"You deserve everything, Piero. And moreover, you would be a wonderful consort. That's why I wanted to put a crown at your feet..."

"Wait for a second: it looks like a proposal... But you are already married!"

"I know, I know. I cannot divorce Elizabeth, and I think you understand that. But it is my way to say that I will belong to you, and you only for the rest of my life. And I wanted to know if you feel the same..."

Piero nervously chuckled.

"Oh Lord, that was unexpected!"

He kneeled near Philip and replied:

"I won't ask you to nullify your marriage, because I know what are the consequences. But I am moved by your gesture, and if you want to know, I will never look at someone else the way I am looking at you. I love you, Philip Mountbatten, and it won't change..."

"I love you too, Piero De Angelis." smiled Philip, relieved, before he kissed Piero.

As they tightly held each other, the two lovers felt like the sadness was less oppressive. They had the impression that nothing could tear them apart and they will surpass everything together.

October 1979.

"So, tell me more about this charming girl. What is her name, already?"

"Her name is Diana. Diana Spencer."

"What a lovely name! Is she the daughter of Count John Spencer?"

"Exactly."

Walking through the halls of Buckingham Palace, Charles and Piero were talking about the Crown Prince's new girlfriend, the young Diana Spencer.

"I know that you're dating her for perhaps one month, but how is your relationship?"

"Quite good, to be honest. She is calm, smiling, quite smart... Of course, she had different hobbies than mine but... I guess it's alright."

"I would like to meet her. I can invite both of you to my place if you want."

"It would be a pleasure."

A servant arrived.

"Mister De Angelis."

"Yes?"

"Her Majesty The Queen requires your presence in her office. If you please follow me..."

Piero was intrigued: why would the Queen want to see him?

"Alright, I arrive. See you later, your Highness."

"See you later, Mister De Angelis."

Piero followed the servant until they arrived in front of the door. The man knocked at the door before he announced:

"Mister De Angelis, Your Majesty."

"Perfect, George. Good afternoon, Mister De Angelis."

"Your Majesty," replied Piero.

The servant left the room. 

The young man politely said:

"Your Majesty, I renew my condolences after the tragic loss of Lord Mountbatten... I shall say that I share your pain."

The Queen answered in a neutral tone:

"Thank you for your consideration, Mister De Angelis. However, the pain is not the only thing we share..."

Puzzled, Piero asked:

"May I know what are you talking about?"

She looked at him with contempt:

"Don't you dare think I am a fool, Mister De Angelis? I have learned that you have an affair with my husband!"

Piero stared in amazement: how could she know about it? He was sure none of the children told their mother, neither Margaret nor Philip. So, it must be a servant...

"I am astounded by such accusations, Your Majesty. Your husband and I have only cordial relationships, and that's all!"

"Stop spreading your lies. I know that you are the mysterious person my husband comes to see almost every day."

She came closer to him and snarled:

"I gave you my trust, I even left my children with you, and this is how you thanked me?"

Usually, the young artist would have lowered his head and being ashamed. But this time, he stared defiantly at her and said with a cold tone: 

"Maybe I would be the rudest man in your kingdom, Your Majesty, but I can't stand such hypocrisy. Especially when it comes from someone who hurt her children and cheated on her devoted husband..."

"How dare you?!"

"I can ask you the same. You did not expect that I knew your dirty little secrets, am I right? After all, your lover was not really careful: he put his latest love letter in my office. What a big mistake!"

He restrained himself from smiling as he saw Elizabeth grew pale.

"But, I am a gentleman: I won't tell the media about your romance if you let us alone. Otherwise, the entire Commonwealth will hear about his adulterous Queen..."

"You have some nerve to threaten me as you do, Mister De Angelis..."

"I don't threaten, I warn: this is all the difference. After all, you would not have hesitated to destroy my life. Let's say that we are on equal terms for now..."

Suddenly, Philip and Margaret burst through the door.

"Ah, right in time, Philip. I have just tell Mister De Angelis that I knew about your affair."

As Philip was shocked, Margaret raised an eyebrow.

"And then? It's not like Philip was the only guilty!"

"You were supposed to support me, not to defy me!" snapped Elizabeth.

"How am I supposed to do that, as you enjoy belittle all your family members - it is a miracle that Mother is the only exception. And you deserve what happened..."

"Should I understand that you are behind this?"

"Absolutely, and I won't regret anything I did! And I am so glad that Philip has someone who did what you are supposed to do!"

The Queen fumed as she understood that her sister and her husband joined forces against her.

Philip added:

"You see, Elizabeth: you throw me away, but I won't running after you anymore. I finally find love again, and if you dare to mess up everything, I would not mind telling your friends about your relationship with Acherville."

Seething, Elizabeth raised her head in an arrogant gesture and declared:

"That is not going to happen for long, Philip. You know where your place is, and you will give this entertainer up!"

"I don't think so, dear wife. I am not the one who gives up so easily..."

He smirked.

"Now that you know everything, shall we leave you?"

"You're dismissed. Now, go!" she replied with a short tone.

The trio left the room, a relieved smile on their faces. However, they won't drop their guard, as they knew how embittered Elizabeth can be.

But it looked like she lost the war. Now, it was Philip and Piero's turn to conquer Buckingham Palace... 

To be continued...

N.B: This request is written like an AU and changed many things from the characters to the events. 

Please be kind and comprehensive and don’t snap about it!

Anyway, I hope you liked the story and I am waiting for your requests.

See you soon! 😘😷😍🥰💖

[iamapuffhuffle]

Arrange Marriage ~Halfdan x F Reader Part 1

Authors Note: There is hardly any Halfdan fics and I fell in love with him while rewatching Vikings and I just needed to get a bit more writings about him out there =) 

Felt weird writing this, seemed too quick. Usually I write long ass stories that chapters that take weeks to write.  -Also my first fic on Tumblr woot! Very nervous about this. ~Also loosely based on actually history to fit the story...like the show. Set year after second Paris attack in that 12 year time frame.

Warnings: Swearing, age gaps, arrange marriage, sexual themes, nudity. Angst (I think) If there are any others that I missed. Please tell me and I will add them.

Part 2 | Part 3

I’ve been staring at the approaching capital of Vestfold, Tamdrup. My legs bouncing slightly from excitement to finally get off this boat or was it because I’m heading to a new place that I’ve never been. Could be both. 

Looking to the man that stood on the edge of the boat. Up at my soon to be husband, while he told his men to raise the sail.

 He stepped down from the ledge and back inside the floating device. He headed over to the back of the boat were I was and sat down next to his first wife, Aesa, bringing her into a heavy kiss. Her dirty blonde hair wipes through the crisp morning winds. 

I advert my eyes while my nose scrunched.  

Leif Otryggsson turning around to face me, his older face held a grinning expression, “I am thrilled that we made it and with more than enough time before we are to be married. Right Y/N?” 

I look into his eyes and smiled slightly. His dark green eyes burned into mine until his gaze went back to Tamdrup. I’ve immediately dropped my smile. 

Our boat and the three others that followed us, pulled next to the wooden dock. Quickly thralls and Vikings dispersed and got off the boat.

Leif hopped of the boat. He looked as if to take in the moment and the scenery.  Coming back to reality, Leif helped Aesa off the boat, then he held out his hand to pulled me up. I noticed that I was the last one to get off. I stood up looking at Leif’s outwards hand, placing my smaller one into his rough one. He pulled me onto the wooden dock.

We walked forwarded over what to be fish guts and I step on the dirt of Tamdrup for the first time. My eyes focus on the cloudless blue sky that watched over us.

Why are I here? Right, being one of my father’s many children. I am the 12th child out of 16. Eight daughters and eight sons. My father is Earl Ragnvald of Nordmøre and he had 6 wives. My mother dead 3 winters ago due a sickness. I loved my mother dearly but it helped the grieving process a lot that my father’s other wives treated me like their own daughter. 

Father made a decision to create a closer alliance with Earl Leif. He decided to allow Leif to choose which one of us to marry. He had 5 to choose from, me being the youngest. Which he choose me, mostly because I was the only virgin. My sisters had experience in pleasing men and he decided to choose me. 

Vikings usually do not care for saving until marriage, but I never felt a need to have sex with anyone. A few warriors have tried but I declined all of them. Probably because I did not feel anything for them. 

I certainly do not feel anything for Earl Leif either. His light red hair that grew down his middle of his back. He held it back with a ponytail. A small braid on along his right check. His red beard was kept short but also a bit messy. His features looked like any other Viking, but maybe I can grow to love Leif Otryggsson. 

Leif wanted us to be married where he first married his first wife. On  a hill just outside Tamdrup. He says the gods will bless our marriage like they blessed Aesa and his marriage for many years. 

I heard a deep rough voice shouting a welcome to us. I blink to see Harald Finehair, as Leif said that he are close ally to Harald, who he self deems a King. He places his hand onto Leif shoulder. Greeting us to his capital and asking why Earl Leif was present.

Leif begins, “I only came to marry,” He gestures to me, “Y/N, daughter of Earl Ragnvald.” 

 Harald smiles, his rough voice erupts, “Welcome! My kingdom is small but doesn’t mean our feasts are. Come, follow.” 

Thralls follow right behind me. And Edda, a friend since I was young and a skilled shieldmaiden. Edda wanted to come along and stay with me. Earl Leif was hesitant at first but agreed to my request to allow her to come.

Edda was a taller than the average Viking woman, wavy, dirty blonde hair, pulled back in tight braid while her right side was cleanly shaved. Her sharp green eyes could cut anyone just by her glaring at them. She was well trained.

 As for me I can hold a sword, but I do not trust my talents with a weapon, I think I could never hold my own in a battle.  Edda always helped me with training, but I never consider myself a shieldmaiden 

We walked through a market place when Leif asked a question about where Harald’s brother was. 

 “Halfdan will be returning shortly. He has been scouting Rogaland.” 

“Rogaland?”

“One step closer for me to become king of all Norway, Earl Leif.”

King of all Norway is a great ambition. When travelling here Leif told me about Harald and his dream. Leif believes Harald Finehair will never become king. Leif just plays and tricks to be on the best side. Flipping sides when needed. But Leif is on Harald’s side until we head back to King Svein’s territory. 

We stopped in front of a few cottages. Harald states that they are empty allowing us stay while we are here. I thanked Harald as thralls brought our items inside. 

The day quickly becomes night, with that the feast begins. Me and Edda walk into the loud and cheerful hall. We both stand in the doorway as we glance around the hall to taken in the sights.

I felt the warmth surrounding me from the chilly summer’s night. The songs that were happily sung by the drunk folk. That included King Harald, his rough voice could be heard through the chaos. I see Leif and Aesa sitting together eating like everyone else. 

Edda pushes me towards the table. “Go. Sit down next to your soon to be husband.” 

I look back at her. Biting the inside of my check nervously.  

Edda rolled her eyes, “I know you weren’t until some else made you y/n.” 

I watched as Edda turns to a close by group of warriors and begun to speak to a few men.  

Taking a deep breathe and heading over to the center of the room. Sitting down on the bench on Leif’s right side, while Aesa was on his left. Being the closest to Harald’s throne. 

He sat drinking his mead while still trying to sing. Harald’s singing died out and he soon he raised his cup high, “To our guest! Even though I do not have my queen yet. The gods have blessed you with another wife, Earl Leif. Skol!”

Everyone lightly lifted their cups towards Harald and shouted ‘Skol’ with him and with that the chaos began again. 

I took a slightly sip letting the mead slide down. Leif leaned in towards me. He been drinking many cups tonight, it sent shivers down my spine and my stomach felt uneasy. He continued to mutter into my shoulder. Luckily he was speaking softly and how loud the room was, it turned to words in the wind that didn’t reach my ear. Leif went back to playing with Aesa’s blonde messy ponytail.  

Feeling less confined, I sigh heavily, II felt a hand on my shoulder, I jumped slightly out of my seat. Turning to see Edda, I relaxed. Edda leans down and whispers, “Eat Y/N, you’ll feel better. You look ill, your face is becoming pale.” 

I nod to her as I picked up a few slices of bread, stuffing my face, “Happy.” 

“Yes.” Edda chuckles as she patted my shoulder before leaving me alone again. I swallow what’s in my mouth. I picked at the bread and just took smaller bites. 

A short time has passed by and while I watched the others in their own amusements. A group of Vikings come from outside, bringing a cold draft in with them. There was about 15 Vikings and Shield Maidens looking around before dispersing in all directions. 

The Viking that lead the pack into the mead hall stayed in in the middle. Harald removed himself from a group and lifts his arms up happily. Harald shouts, “Brother, back so soon!” Harald places his arm around the Viking that once stood in front of the pack. The room shouted a greeting. 

My eyes followed the new Viking male. His short, dirty, blonde hair contrasted his brother’s long brown hair. I also notice that he also has many facial tattoos. That must be Halfdan the Black and both of them are heading this way. 

I’m trying not to stare but I felt like I had to take in his appearance closer than others I’ve met. It’s a different feeling that I’ve felt before. I watched them approaching the end of the table.

Once Leif left his attention off Aesa, he saw Halfdan. He jumped up off the bench, “Halfdan good to see you after all these years.” They grip their lower arms. 

“Yeah, too many years Earl Leif.” Halfdan spoke. His eyes went around the three of us. When our eyes meet, I felt my face getting warm. 

Leif gestured with his hand, “This is my first wife Aesa, It been years, you probably do not remember her, Halfdan.”

“Aesa, it’s good to see you again. You throw an axe at me.”

“It’s so good to see you too Halfdan. Too bad that I missed.” Aesa smirked. 

Leif interrupted his wife, “And this the daughter of Earl Ragnvald and my soon to be second wife, Y/N.”

I am kind of taken back. When our eyes meet, my body felt different. Different when Leif’s and mine eyes meet. This feels true strange.

Harald breaks our eye contact, “When are you both to be married. Should marry her soon Leif.”

“The gods will favor our marriage if we have it during the same moon me and Aesa were married.” Leif says, “In 2 full moons. Just before the summer end.”

My stomach turns again. It feels too soon. I allowed my head to drop before  taking my cup and gulping it down. Knowing it’s mead, it could be a long night of displeasurement. I was now the only one left at the table with Leif went to competed with the other Vikings. While Aesa left the table and is happily speaking to other woman, while I ate bread and drinking too much.

I noticed that Harald and Halfdan do not have wives. Strange they seem to be very popular with woman. I feel like there is history with Halfdan and Aesa, didn’t seem to end well.

After some time has passed, and I drank my weight in mead. I could feel it taking over my actions because I can not stay still. Feeling a bit wobbly as I try to find Edda through the crowds of people. I don’t usually drink this much. 

Finally finding Edda sitting with a few men. One of them is whispering something into her ear. “Sorry to interrupt.” 

Edda whispered something else to his, before standing and headed next to me. “You are fine. I watched you attempting to walk to me.  Let’s get your drunk ass to bed.” 

“I have to tell Leif before heading out.” Edda grabs my forearm bringing through the crowd and to Leif. 

I looked at Leif’s watching us as we approach him. “Earl Leif, I’m going to go head to bed.” 

“I’ll head back with you.”

“No, please continue to enjoy the feast.” 

Leif nods to me and I headed out of the hall. I bring my furs a bit closer to my skin hoping to stop the chill. 

After a short walk, we entered the lodge. We were greeted by the thralls. 

I want to take a bath to try to ease this feeling of displeasure. I asked the thralls to put a bath together. 

“The feast was interesting, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. You seem to have your fun.” I grinned at her. “I was my fault you were taken away from that handsome Viking.”

Edda sat on a chair, she leaned and smirked. “We are going to be here for a while, I have time.”

I sat on the opposite seat of my friend. I started to pick at the wooden table. “What is wrong y/n.”

 “I do not want to be married.”

Edda heavily breathed outwards in agreement. “I understand how you feel. You’ve been my friend for years. You’ve want to save yourself for the one. Which I think is fucking stupid. But that’s me. I fucked many Vikings because it’s what I desire. Y/n, what do you desire?”

I took a moment to think of an answer. What do I even desire. Yes I would love to lie with a man once and a while, but not knowing anything about them is... not what I want. “It changes Edda, I want to love. I am going to be a second wife. Just a new addition. I seen my father wives. My mother never got any attention, yes she loved him, but he loved the others more. That is what I my fear is. The person who says they love me then just go fucks someone else.” I breathe sharply inwards. I rub the side of my heads. 

“Maybe the gods will see you in this struggle and rewards you for your pain. They will...I know it. And look your bath is ready so go in and relax. I’m going to check the surrounding.”

I nod to her. I stood in front of the wooden tub. I thank the thrall and ask her to leave. She quickly leaves as I completely undress. Setting in and sit down in the hot water. It feels great as I roll my my shoulders. I sink more back in the water. After about few moments. Earl Leif comes in. He grins. 

“I am taking a bath Earl Leif, sorry that I can’t rise to great you.”

“Nonsense. Rise, we are to be married. You should not be shy about you own naked body. I will be seeing it a lot of after we are married.” 

I don’t like the sound of that. Make it seem that my body is a just a prize to be won. Sighing quietly to myself. I dig my nails into the side of the tub before I push myself to stand, greeting Leif. 

Leif walks more into the room and in front of tub. He stops me from sitting back into the tub. He gripes my forearms keeping me upwards. He brushes my hair away from off my skin, “Gods. You are beautiful.” His right hand traces along my collarbone and down my arm. 

My breathe hitches. I frown but he does not notice because his only focus is looking at my wet naked body. My body shivers from the cold air.

Leif smiles and his hand continues by going right under my breasts. I shiver and bite my lip not wanting to make any sounds to make him continue this show. Leif lets go of me and turns away. Allowing me to reemerge under the warm water.  

“I want to fuck you right now” Leif takes a deep inhale of my soaked hair. “But that will have to wait. I’ll leave you in Edda’s care as I go back to Aesa and the feast.”

I weakly nod and stare as Leif walks out of the room. 

After Leif leaves, I sat down once again. I am so happy that Leif is waiting until our wedding night as he thinks it will give him more luck. While Vikings usually embrace sex. If the gods favor me more...maybe, Leif will fall sick and die. 

Leaning my head back until my whole head went under. I just need to think. To empty my thoughts. But not a moment after, I am pulled back to the air above. 

I rub the water away from my eyes to see Edda. She let go on my hair. Her frown deepened, “Was worried that you was trying to drown yourself.”

I shook my head, “I wanted to see if the gods had a message to tell me. Are they putting me through a test. I wanted to see a sign. To see if this is my true fate.”