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capriccio-con-espressione · 4 years ago

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Teacher’s Day

（©GIF cred)

A/N: Happy birthday to our comedic meme material prince Hendery!😘 This is a re-upload from my old acc so I hope you guys enjoy! (P.S. Reuploaded again since the previous one failed to show up in tags)

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3027

Warning: Bratty Sub!Hendery, Dom!Reader, Femdom, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Profanity, Hair pulling, Spanking, Wedgie, Degradation, Anal play, Sex toys, Titty sucking/worshipping, Writing lines as punishment

“How much longer?” Blindfolded Hendery whines while you are leading him to the designated room for his birthday playtime, but this impatient boy obviously can’t wait.

“What is my surprise, to be exact?” The boy continues to inquire. “I hope I won’t be walking blindfolded for too much longer or I am starting to think that you are taking me to the slaughterhouse like I am a piglet!”

“I’ll make sure your surprise is worth the wait if you stop being this inquisitive.” You stop your leading steps. “Seriously? A piglet? Can you not ruin the mood by goofing around and exaggerating things this much?”

“Okay okay I am sorry.” Hendery playfully apologizes. “First asking me to wear the uniform from the Back to School Kit, second blindfolding me like this, I am really dying to know what it is!”

“Shh be patient.” You smirk while finally leading him inside the room, instructing him to sit down in a chair. “Do you know what’s special about today?”

“My birthday, of course! Why ask?” He asks, puzzled.

“It’s also Teachers’ Day in Taiwan as well.” You half-whisper in his ear while taking off his blindfold. “So I’d better teach you some manners as well as something unforgettable on this day…”

Hendery’s vision clears up as he glances around his surroundings: a blackboard with capitalized letters “DETENTION” written on it, a podium in the front left of the room, and several sets of desk and chairs arranged in neat rows while he’s seated in one of them, with a typical school bag hanging from the hook on the right side of his desk.

“Wow this looks legit…” He compliments. “So this is why the school uniform?”

You reply in a sly hum, picking up the 50-cm iron ruler originally leaning against the podium before approaching him. “I remember you mentioning role-play to spice up our sex life, so I figured this can be the peak of your birthday. You like that, my naughty schoolboy?” You smirk alluringly while tilting his chin up with the ruler.

“Fuck yeah, this will be amazing…”

You slam the ruler menacingly loud against his desk, startling him a bit. “Words, Hendery. No profanity allowed in this class. Aren’t you aware of the trouble you are in right now?” You motion toward the capitalized words on the blackboard.

“Hmmm...I have no idea…” He feigns innocence in those bright piercing eyes, in an obvious attempt to annoy you.

“Such an impudent lad. You are in detention because you don’t hand in assignments on time, slacking off in your studies, and last but not least, bad-mouthing your teacher.” You close in on him while maintaining a glare. “Are you sorry for what you did?”

“No, y/n-”

“How dare you call me by my first name?”

“Look, Miss Y/L/N I don’t really care. I am a very busy guy and you are just wasting my time.” He grins cheekily. “I am going to miss my club practice. I promise I will do better, so can’t you just let it go this time?”

“I don’t trust your empty promises, Hendery, especially this isn’t the first time you let me down.” You cross your arms. “And you shouldn’t be allowed any club activities since you fail to prioritize things correctly. You should sit here, properly complete the assignments you have missed under my supervision, and you are free to go after that. It’s that simple.”

“Why are you giving me such a hard time, Miss?”

“I am not being hard and unreasonable on you, all I am asking you to do is something that aids your learning and done by the rest of your peers, plus, you won’t know what your problems with learning are without these practices.” You sigh while taking out the workbook from the schoolbag and place it right in front of him. “Now stop complaining and do it.” You order as you sit down next to him.

Hendery huffs and reluctantly flips through the book to find the marked pages for this session. “20 pages of mathematics with 30 questions on each one? Are you insane?”

“This is the accumulated result of your indolence, boy. And you sure it’s appropriate to call your teacher insane?”

“Right right I am so sorry Miss-”

“Apologize properly.” You grab his arm to get all his attention, starting to get sick of his dismissive attitude and playing nice with him.

“I am really sorry that I called you insane, Miss Y/L/N...” His voice trails off at the end of the sentence while he diverts his attention to the questions in front of him again.

You watch him scribble down answers on the pages intently to see his every move, so when his arm scoots suspiciously close to the corner of the page where he’s writing something, you immediately take notice of it.

You abruptly stand up and snatch away the book from him with a strong force, making his eyes widen with disbelief. “‘Miss Y/L/N is an annoying bitch’? This is what I get after being this patient and communicative with you?” You continue to read the contents of the page. “And none of the answers are correct! You are really giving me attitude, huh?”

“Why should I listen to you when you’re such a pain in my ass?”

“Pain in my ass isn’t it? Now I should really inflict some real pain on your ass.” He yelps as you yank him by his hair, forcing him to stand up. “Bend over.”

Hendery winces at the burning sensation on his scalp as he complies, then you let go and press his waist down firmly against the desk as your other arm immediately delivers a sharp blow on his bottom.

“Apologize.” You order sternly after a dozen spanks.

“Never.” He retorts with a grunt.

“Such a shameless brat.” You muse while pulling down his trousers, then pull up his boxers between his cheeks and give a firm tug on it, causing him to whine in discomfort.

“Still unapologetic?” You sneer before giving a harsh slap on his bare flesh.

“Please stop...Miss...and I am really sorry…”

“Sorry for what?”

“I-I am sorry for disrespecting you!”

“Then? What about your horrible work on your assignment?” You resume spanking him again.

“Mmmf- I am sorry for messing up my homework! Please stop wedging me I beg you, Miss.”

You snigger at his plead and how easy it is to break him, but still you aren’t satisfied. “Combine your apologies into a sentence together and I will consider, and you’d better be earnest enough.”

“Ahh-I apologize sincerely for calling you bad names, a-and slacking off in my studies then failing to do my homework properly! Please Miss I feel so guilty right now…” He whimpers and shifts his butt, trying to minimize the soreness.

“Very well.” You decide not to be too hard on him at first to save it for later and release the fabric. Hendery sighs in relief, only to experience a similar mishap soon after again.

“You forgot to thank me, you poor-mannered lad.” You smirk at his misfortune, tweaking the clothing harder than last time, feeling amused that your boyfriend always falls into this trap by forgetting to express his gratitude when you just decide to have a little mercy on him.

“P-please Miss I am sorry for not remembering to thank you...ahhh…please I’ll be good...just spare me some mercy please…”

“How should I believe that you will have the brain to remember such basic manners next time, you airhead?”

“I-I will endure whatever it takes for you to believe in me, Miss. I am truly sorry…”

“Whatever, huh?” You mock his tone while shoving both his undergarments down his ankles. “You are going to take a sound spanking. Better remember to count out every spank and thank me afterward. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Miss. I won’t forget it this time.”

You swing the ruler in the air, warming your arm up, before striking his bare bottom.

“One! Th-thank you, Miss.”

You smack him again, but harder this time.

“Two! Ahh-thank you, Miss.” He kicks his legs, but only to find them restrained with his garments, which just excites him more.

You then continue to mercilessly redden his ass, interspersing the punishment with some sensual soothing rubs in between to prepare him for the sting and arouse him, and remain the same dynamic and rhythm until the twentieth spank, when you suddenly pick up the pace and inflict him with four consecutive blows.

“Twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four. Hnngh-thank you, Miss…” His voice falters.

“See? You are not that bad at calculating. Why did you mess up your math homework that much then?” You ask before smacking him for the twenty-fifth time.

“Twenty-five...thank you, Miss. I am sorry that I deliberately screwed up because I am just a defiant brat!”

“Then you promise to do your best in your work in the future?” You inquire, amused by his admittance while continuing his punishment.

“I will...I promise I won’t let you down ever again, Miss.” He assures you after counting out and thanking you.

“You promise you will be a pliant pupil that listens well to his teacher?”

“Ah-twenty-seven, thank you, Miss. I promise I will listen to you and obey you like a good student should do.”

“Very well. So you should never violate any school rules again, right?” You foreshadow what the plot of your session will lead, before whipping him for the last time.

“Twenty-eight...thank you, Miss. I promise I will abide by the rules.” He replies obediently, oblivious about the whole thing since it’s arranged as a surprise event.

“Good boy.” You praise before caressing his sore butt, brushing his inner thighs from time to time as he moans at your sensual touches. “You didn’t just miss out on math, but other subjects as well. Should I take out the other study materials for you so that you have an overall understanding of what you should do?”

“Yes, please. Thank you, Miss Y/L/N. May I sit down now?”

“Just a minute…” You reply, searching through the schoolbag while taking your mischievous plan to work. “What are these doing in your bag, Hendery?” You demand sternly, laying two objects in front of him.

Hendery becomes speechless at the sight of the large, rounded realistic silicone boobs and the veiny, ridgy dildo.

“Care to explain what this is for?” You deliberately ask while pointing at the tits. Excitement boils inside you as you expect his answer.

“This��is to fuck myself between them.” He shamelessly responds, with a devilish grin and a twitching dick, indicating his liking toward this turn of the plot.

“How about this?” You motion at the dildo.

“This is what I use to get a hot girl like you to fuck me to paradise…” He smirks dreamily, thinking of what you will do to him with it as you smirk at his sudden compliment.

“Now I see the main reason that your grades are slipping. You are not only unwilling to study hard, but also you are a lecherous slut! You should know well porno stuff is obviously prohibited in school, but I remember you promising me that you will not break any rule just now?”

“It was too late then, I already brought them before promising you.”

“That still doesn’t justify your behavior. You should be punished again. Remember you saying that you will obey me?” You grin knowingly as you lightly patted the ruler against your palm.

“Yes, Miss. Please punish me all you want as long as you won’t tell the authorities.”

You simper at his literal beg to get punished. “Why should I report you to my superiors,” You position the fake boobs right under his face, “when I can have all the fun and enjoy the little show myself?” You tap the ruler against his ass once again. “Now suck it just like what you will do to your dream girl, filthy boy whore. You may not be the best at your studies, but you’d better not disappoint me with this.”

Hendery happily commences engulfing the artificial mound while grimacing at the blooming tingle on his behind. The lewd sounds of him greedily slurping and lapping on the toy, the sight of his body squirming under your punitive ruler, and the corruptive contrast of his aristocratic profile doing the most sordid thing ever, all turn you on with the growing need for him to pleasure you.

“Are you wiggling your naughty ass just to direct me to hit where you crave the pain the most, you seamy little slutboy?” You comment on his writhing backside as he nods in affirmation while continuing servicing the tits.

“Perhaps you will love it when I abuse you here, right?” You wickedly tuck the ruler between his cheeks, earning a moan from him.

“Would you like sucking real tits, or maybe you just prefer fawning over silicones?” You sneer, knowing the answer too well as you rub the ruler on his rear entrance.

“I love real beautiful boobs more, of course, especially those of yours, Miss…” Hendery replies through moans, finally looking up at you from the saliva-covered toy while not forgetting to flatter you.

“Hmm you finally know how to properly treat your teacher now, huh?” You remark as you unbutton your blouse then free your boobs from the lacy cups. “Worship them.”

Hendery starts sucking on your breast after an admiring stare. “Since you’ve got your mouth worked up, I think I should stuff your other orifice too…” You say while coating both his ass, your fingers and the dildo with profuse lube. After gradually adding fingers to stretch him wide enough, you begin to slam into his needy prostate with the dildo, savoring the feeling of his wetness and vibrations coating your sensitive areas as well.

Both his hands grab and fondle the base of your boobs for support as his knees buckle a little at the sensation deep inside his behind. You tangle the fingers of your free hand into his hair, forcing him to make eye contact with you with a firm tug.

“Why do you turn to sex toys and risk bringing them to school, while your teacher is here to counsel you with both your studies and insatiable needs?”

“B-because I want you to f-fuck and punish me for being a slut…” He flicks his tongue on your erect nipple after replying.

“Is this why you got yourself in detention in the first place? Acting bratty in hopes of the opportunity to get some sexy discipline?”

“Mmm yeah…” Your “student” that used to be so deviant is now moaning mindlessly between pants and sucking while looking up at you so lovingly yet indecently, urging you to ram his ass even harder and faster. Blissful tears start to stream out of his lust-filled eyes as you shove his uniform jacket down below his shoulders, loosen his tie then undo his first few upper buttons to turn him into a disheveled mess even more. Seeing him rendered to a state like this plus the stimuli on your nipples cause your core to drip with satisfying needs.

“Such a messy needy baby...do you want to cum?” You coo as he quickly nods in response.

“Then will you manage your time well and complete your assignment properly?”

“...Yes, I will, Miss.”

“Will you be respectful to your teacher from now on?”

“Mmm of course I will, especially to my favorite teacher…”

“Last but not least, will you turn to your teacher for help when necessary instead of wanking with stupid toys?”

“Definitely, because my teacher feels so much better…”

“Good. Now you are allowed to cum as much as you want.”

Hendery cums after muttering some gratitude, not forgetting his manners this time. You indulge in a slow sensual kiss with him afterward, drawing him out of the orgasmic haze while whispering some praises to him, slowly guiding him back to his senses as well as doing a quick clean-up of body fluids.

“Did you know you just came with your dick completely untouched?” You playfully taunt.

“I know you are that good…” He sheepishly grins at you.

“Now one more thing for you to do as a reminder to always be a good boy.” You gesture toward the blackboard. “Write 28 repeated lines of ‘I will respect my teacher at all times’.”

“Sure.” He quickly answers while reaching down to pull up his trousers.

“Did I give you permission to re-dress?” You disapprovingly question.

“No, Miss…” He slightly blushes. “But it’s so embarrassing…” He mutters in protest while wobbling toward the board. covering himself.

“That’s the purpose of this punishment, making you so humiliated and disheveled that you will never forget your lesson.”

Hendery sighs while picking up the chalk, and starts scribbling down the requested line. The first ten lines look passable but after that, his writing begins to get sloppy.

“Rewrite this.” You erase the line that you deem intolerable.

“But-”

“No ‘buts’, unless you want some thrashing again.”

Your schoolboy groans but still has no choice but to comply, peeking at the board eraser in your hand while making efforts to win your approval. Finally, he reaches the 28th line without the need for you to demand him to rewrite anything.

“Well done, that’s my good boy.” You continue to compliment his obedience and hard work, embracing him while massaging some cool lotion into his still rosy ass, before helping him to re-dress.

“Do you like my way of discipline?”

“A lot. But you hit me so hard…” He jokingly glares before nuzzling against the crook of your neck, planting some wet kisses on it.

“I am already giving you enough privilege to suck my tits for this long, so be grateful.” He whines in response upon hearing this but holds on you even tighter, while subtly grinding against your chest.

“Happy birthday.” You utter affectionately, completely immersed in the intimacy while sensing his gorgeous features beaming in return.

“Happy Teacher’s Day.”

147 notes · View notes

monotonous-minutia · 4 years ago

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Benvenuto Cellini in 300 lines or fewer

for the lovely and incredibly patient @notyouraveragejulie, as requested! Happy Cellini-versary! took me long enough, but decided to get it done today to honor the occasion :)

Act I Scene I

Balducci’s house

Balducci: Teresa what are you doing looking out the window I told you never to look out the window. Besides I need you to listen to my rant. Can you BELIEVE what the Pope has just told me? He’s hired that delinquent Cellini to make his new statue instead of Fieramosca. I just can’t wrap my head around it.

Teresa: Maybe you could if it wasn’t so big.

Balducci: What?

Teresa: Nothing.

(Balducci exits)

Teresa: Ugh FINALLY I hate listening to his rants. )goes back to look out the window)

Masqueraders outside: LALALALA IT’S CARNIVAL THE BEST TIME OF THE YEAR

(Balducci comes back and sees Teresa at the window)

Balducci: TERESA WHAT DID I TELL YOU ABOUT STAYING AWAY FROM THE WINDOW what is even going on down there? I bet it’s that Cellini whipping everyone into a frenzy. Ugh, Carnival. (exits again)

Teresa: (goes to the window and is immediately showered with flowers) I don’t care what my dad says, hanging out by the window is fun. I love flowers. Oh hey, a note from Cellini! What? He’s coming here? Oh, that’ll be risky. But hey, dad’s out of the house, what could go wrong? Y’know, it’s kinda hard, dealing with all this—feeling like I have to listen to my dad, but wanting to indulge in the affections of my beloved. When I’m older, old like my parents, maybe I’ll be responsible, but right now I’m young, and I deserve to have some fun! Girls just wanna have fun!

Cellini: (appearing at the window) TERESA MY BELOVED

Teresa: Cellini, I love you, but it’s too dangerous for you to be here. What if my dad catches us?

Cellini: But look, it’s carnival, and it’s so gay! And I mean that like happy, but y’know, it’s pretty gay too. Besides, I love you. Why do you turn me away?

Teresa: Well, I just got done singing this empowering feminist aria, but unfortunately reality hits and I remember that it’s 1532 and I basically have no rights, so it’s best for you to forget me and move on.

Fieramosca: (sneaking in carrying a huge bouquet) The best way to a woman’s heart is with a cool sneak-in plan and a bunch of flowers. Hang on, is that Cellini talking to my Teresa?

Cellini: How am I supposed to just leave you behind? Let you be forced into the arms of that Fieramosca?

Teresa: I’d rather die than marry Fieramosca!

Fieramosca: …I just came here to have a good time and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.

Cellini: Okay, so, how about this: Come to the new opera Cassandro is presenting tomorrow night. While your dad is distracted, my apprentice and I will sneak over disguised as friars and spirit you away! We’ll go to Florence and live happily ever after! Nothing could possibly go wrong!

Fieramosca: Hmm, interesting plan. It would be a shame if someone were to...interfere.

Teresa: Sounds foolproof. But hang on, my dad is coming back. You have to hide!

(Cellini hides behind the door. Fieramosca hides in Teresa’s bedroom. Balducci somes back.)

Balducci: Teresa, what are you up to? Are you talking to people? How many times do I have to remind you that you’re not allowed to have a life?

Teresa: (distracting him so Cellini can sneak out) DAD THERE’S A MAN IN MY BEDROOM

Balducci: What??? Let me see!

(Balducci goes into Teresa's bedroom and comes out dragging Fieramosca) I can’t believe this! This is so inappropriate, Fieramosca, how dare you?

Fieramosca: No, wait, let me explain! I just came to visit! Cellini is the real rascal!

Teresa: Oh the poor man is raving mad.

Balducci: I will not stand for this! Servants, come here! Let’s teach this seducer a lesson!

Servants: OH YEAAAHHHHH LET’S STICK HIM IN THE FOUNTAIN

Fieramosca: NO WAIT

Teresa: This is the best thing ever.

Act I Scene II

Piazza Colonna

Cellini: I can’t wait to elope with Teresa!

(A bunch of Cellini’s friends and students come in)

Chorus: LALALALALA LET’S GET SLOSHED

Cellini: Yes, but for god’s sake none of those ridiculous drinking songs. Let’s sing about the glory of metal-workers!

Everyone: YEAH GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!! WE’RE THE BEST WE WORK WITH METAL THAT SPARKLES LIKE JEWELS AND RIPPLES LIKE FLOWERS AND IS MORE BEAUTIFUL THAN BOTH OF THOSE PUT TOGETHER

Bernardino: Alright folks, let’s drink up!

Innkeeper: Sorry lads, not until you pay your tab.

Cellini: Okay who’s got the cash? …nobody? Well this is a nice little pickle we’ve gotten ourselves into.

Ascanio: (enters carrying a bag of money) ASCANIO TO THE RESCUE

Everybody: YEAHHH VIVA ASCANIO

Ascanio: Okay hold your horses folks, before you spend this money, you have to realize where it’s coming from. It’s a down payment on that statue you’re supposed to build. Cellini, remember you promised the Pope you’d make that statue?

Cellini: Ugh, don’t remind me.

Ascanio: It’s literally my job to remind you.

Cellini: Fiiiiine I promise I’ll finish the statue.

Ascanio: Okay, cool. Here’s the money.

Cellini: Here you go, you troublesome little man, now give us our drinks.

(He gives the Innkeeper the money.)

Cellini: Okay, now that we all have had our libations, let’s talk revenge. You know that guy Balducci who’s always disrespecting me and trying to keep me away from my girlfriend? Well, I have a plan for Carnival where we can humiliate him in front of everyone as payback!

Everyone else: Sounds like a great time! We’re in.

Everyone: Yeah!! A curse on that guy! And while you’re at it, honor to the metal-workers again!!

Ascanio: That’s such a bop where’d it come from?

Cellini: We made it up while you were gone.

Ascanio: I always miss the fun stuff.

(they all leave to get ready; Fieramosca, who was eavesdropping, comes out into the open)

Fieramosca: Ugh, look at them all, plotting against my future!

Pompeo: (entering) Hey boo! What's with the long face?

Fieramosca: Alas, Pompeo, my only friend! What a week it's been! First off, I got an impromptu and very much unwanted bath at Balducci’s yesterday. And as if that weren’t enough, now Cellini and his apprentice are going to abduct my girl!

Pompeo: That’s actually not a bad idea.

Fieramosca: What do you mean?? You want him to steal Teresa from me?

Pompeo: No, the getting in disguise and abducting her part! Why don’t WE just don those same disguises and get her ourselves?

Fieramosca: Ohhh, I get it! What a great idea! Although I must admit, I am a little scared of what Cellini might do if he catches me in the act.

Pompeo: What you think he’s actually going to stab somebody? Here, let’s practice sword fighting so you’re prepared if he does try to pull anything funny.

Fieramosca: Good idea! (they practice sword fighting) HA LOOK AT ME, WHO WOULD EVER DARE CHALLENGE ME, ALL Y’ALL PEASANTS GET OUT OF MY WAY, I’M THE ROUGHEST TOUGHEST GUY YOU EVER DID SEE. Oh, Teresa, I wish you could know just how much my heart burns for you! I’ll be damned if I let that rascal Cellini come between us.

(They leave to get ready. Balducci enters with Teresa as the Piazza begins to fill with people)

Balducci: Well, Teresa, I hope you’re happy. I’ve decided to suffer through this vulgar comedy so you can stop nagging me about not letting you go to Carnival.

Teresa: I’ll never forget your sacrifice, dad. (Come to think, it DOES make me feel a little guilty to be running away from home...is it fair to leave him all by himself?)

Cellini and Ascanio: (dressed as monks) Quickly and quietly, let’s get down to business! The plot is about to start!

Chorus or Troupers: COME, GOOD PEOPLE OF ROME!! COME AND SEE OUR SHOW!!

People: THIS IS SO MUCH FUN CARNIVAL IS AWESOME

Troupers: Let the show begin! (They start a pantomime featuring a parody of Balducci and the Pope)

Balducci: What fresh nonsense is this?

Teresa: Uhhh maybe we should go?

People: SHUT UP AND WATCH THE SHOW

Balducci: You know what? I’m going to suffer through this whole thing and then go tell the Pope how you’re all mocking him! Because he and I talk all the time I guess.

People: WE SAID SHUT UP JUST WATCH THE SHOW

Cellini: Ascanio, can you see Teresa?

Ascanio: Nope but I see someone else trying to interfere with our plans!

People: HAHAHA WATCH THE SHOW THIS IS SO FUNNY LOOK AT HARLEQUIN LOOK AT THE OLD MAN HAHAHA

Balducci: I’M GOING TO TELL ON ALL OF YOU

Teresa: Dad, stop, you’re just riling them up!

Balducci: THAT’S IT I’VE HAD ENOUGH COME GET A TASTE OF MY WRATH (he runs onstage wielding his cane)

People: HAHAHA THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER

Fieramosca: Come on, Pompeo, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Cellini: Come on, Ascanio, let’s sneak over and grab Teresa!

Fieramosca: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Cellini: Teresa, it’s me! Come with me!

Teresa: ??? I don’t know who is who!

Cellini: Come with me!

Fieramosca: Come with me!

Teresa: You know, when I imagined myself falling in love, I never thought I’d have two fake monks vying for my attention.

Ascanio: WE’VE BEEN HAD YOU WON’T GET AWAY WITH THIS (starts chasing Fieramosca)

Cellini: Get out of my way! Cut it out! (He and Pompeo fight; Cellini stabs Pompeo.)

Pompeo: Oh, I’m dead! (He dies.)

People: OMG SOMEBODY DIED CALL 911 I CAN’T BELIEVE A MONK JUST KILLED A GUY WHAT KIND OF WORLD DO WE LIVE IN

Fieramosca: OMG I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU JUST KILLED MY BOYFRIEND

Teresa: OMG CELLINI

Balducci: OMG A DEAD MAN TERESA WHERE ARE YOU

Cellini: OMG I’M REALLY IN TROUBLE NOW

Ascanio: Well, that happened.

(General chaos ensues; Cellini’s students help him escape. Amidst the mayhem Balducci bumps into Fieramosca, and, thanks to his white monk costume, mistakes him for the murderer)

Balducci: I FOUND HIM I FOUND THE MURDERER

Fieramosca: ...are you telling me this is the second time in as many days I’m being accused of something that Cellini did?

Ascanio: Come on, Teresa, let’s get out of here!

Teresa: You don’t have to tell me twice! (They both run off.)

Act II Scene I

Cellini’s workshop

Teresa: Oh my gosh what a catastrophe! I hope Cellini is okay!

Ascanio: Have faith! My master is not one to let a silly little murder accusation get him down. I mean, he did actually kill the guy, but I’m sure it will all work itself out. Have faith!

Teresa: Let’s pray for his safe return! (She and Ascanio sing a very pretty prayer; Cellini busts into the workshop)

Cellini: HONEY I’M HOME

Teresa and Ascanio: OMG YAYY YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: It was a close call! Everyone was running after me with daggers and calling out for my blood! I thought for sure I was done for, but I managed to evade the crowd and find a place to hide, but passed clean out in the process. It was just my fortune that as I came to my senses, as group of white monks were walking past! I joined their procession and no one was the wiser. God led them right to you!

Teresa: OMG that’s such a harrowing adventure! I’ve got goosebumps.

Ascanio: And you’re sure this is 100% accurate, with no embellishments?

Cellini: What do you take me for? Now, come on, we’ve got to get out of here before they come after us again.

Ascanio: Whoops, they’re already here.

Balducci: Cellini, you scoundrel, abductor, murderer, and general all-around-annoying person! Relinquish my daughter. It’s time for her to unite with her husband, Fieramosca.

Cellini: OVER MY DEAD BODY

Ascanio: Don’t give them any ideas!

Balducci: Come on, Fieramosca, claim your bride!

Teresa: DAD NOOOOO

Fieramosca: Uh...I don’t want to cause a scene…

(The Pope enters with his retinue)

Everybody: OH SHI--OH DEAR IT’S THE POPE

Pope: Rise, rise, my children! Relish in my holiness, but don’t hurt yourselves.

Balducci and Fieramosca: Oh your Holiness, please grant us your assistance! That rascal Cellini has tarnished Teresa’s honor.

Cellini: Come on, I think that’s a bit of an exaggeration.

Pope: Well well, well, Cellini, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten in trouble with me, is it? For example, where’s my statue? The one I commissioned you to make?

Cellini: Well...it’s not quite done yet.

Pope: Are you saying I should find someone else to cast the statue instead?

Cellini: WHAT?? HOW DARE YOU!! SOMEONE ELSE CAST M STATUE?? I’D RATHER DIE THAN SEE SOME AMETURE DARE TO PUT THEIR GRUBBY LITTLE FINGERS ON MY MASTERWORK

Everyone else: Are you seriously yelling at the Pope????

Pope: Arrest this man!

Cellini: YOU ARREST ME AND I WILL DESTROY THIS MODEL RIGHT HERE THEN NO ONE WILL BE ABLE TO FINISH THE STATUE! NOBODY!! NOBODY!!

Pope: How dare you threaten me? What’s it going to take to calm you down?

Cellini: I want full forgiveness for all my crimes up till this point. Wipe my record clean.

Pope: Fine, fine.

Cellini: ALSO I want Teresa.

Balducci and Fieramosca: WHAT??? Your Holiness can’t possibly be considering this.

Cellini: I ALSO want more time to finish the statue.

Pope: …you know my weakness for art; fine, fine, I can’t really say no.

Balducci and Fieramosca: What audacity! But we’ll see who has the last laugh.

Teresa: Oh, what a fateful day!

Ascanio: Look at my master, he’s so clever and devious!

Pope: Okay, Cellini, here’s the deal. Finish the statue by tomorrow, and you’ll get all that you asked for. If you can’t finish it in time, you’ll be hanged.

Cellini: Fine!

Balducci and Fieramosca: He’s on the brink of ruin! We’ll see who wins this one!

Teresa: He’s doomed, alas! There’s nothing left for me in this world! Luckily I'm not going to end my life based on this notion like most operatic heroines, but I still feel dread in my heart!

Cellini: I’ve got to win this!

Ascanio: Come one boss you’re the best you got this!!!!

Act II Scene II

Cellini’s Foundry

Ascanio: TRALALALALALA….idk what I’m feeling...I’m happy, then I’m sad, then I’m crying, then I’m laughing, then I’m singing! Must be the hormones. Or the stress...our little bronze boy is finally getting finished today! But there’s a lot on the line. On one hand, I’m all scared that we’ll fail and my poor master will be hanged; on the other hand I can’t help laughing over how ridiculous the whole situation is...I mean, did you SEE the way my master stood up to the Pope?? Anyway, I better start getting ready. Tralalala! (He exits)

Cellini: What have I gotten myself into? How did I expect to finish this statue on time? All of Rome has its eyes on me

Ascanio: *Hamilton chorus voice* history has its eyes on youuuu

Cellini: What?

Ascanio: Nothing. I’m not here.

Cellini: Ah, why can’t I be a simple shepherd, whiling my life peacefully away in the mountains?

Chorus outside: Oooh!! here’s a grim old sea shanty

Cellini: I wish they’d stop! Nothing good ever happens when they sing that song!

Ascanio: (coming back) Not that song again!

Cellini: Take heart! We’re like sailors ourselves, but our sea is made of metal! Let’s get to work!

Fieramosca: NOT SO FAST!! I demand justice! Cellini, I challenge you to a duel! No need for all those sword-fighting lessons to go to waste.

Cellini: Someone finally grew a pair, eh? Fine, let’s duel right here.

Fieramosca: Not here! If I kill you in your own place, I’m a murderer. Meet me behind St. Anthony’s cloister.

Cellini: I’ll see you there!

(Fieramosca leaves; Teresa enters)

Ascanio: Here’s your sword, boss!

Teresa: Omg Cellini are you going to a duel??

Cellini: Relax, it’s just Fieramosca. (exit with Ascanio.)

Teresa: What if it’s an ambush????

Cellini’s workers (storming in) THAT’S IT WE’RE GOING ON STRIKE THESE WORKING CONDITIONS SUCK

Teresa: Oh heavens! What’s this ruckus? Come on, folks, just wait for Cellini to come back and talk about it!

Workers: NOPE WE’RE OUTTA HERE

(Fieramosca walks in)

Teresa: OMG FIERAMOSCA IS BACK WITHOUT CELLINI THAT MEANS CELLINI IS DEAD HE KILLED CELLINI (faints)

Workers: YOU KILLED OUR BOSS???

Fieramosca: What? No! Geez, this really is not my week. I’m just here to offer you the raise Cellini won’t give you.

Workers: NOPE WE’RE LOYAL TO CELLINI FORGET WHAT WE JUST SAID GET OUTTA HERE YOU RASCAL

Cellini: (coming back) What’s going on?

Teresa: (awake) OMG YOU’RE ALIVE

Cellini: ...was that ever in question? Oh, hey, Fieramosca, you’re just in time to help build the statue! Here’s an apron, get to work.

Fieramosca: What? I--

Everyone else: Get to work, or you’ll be taking another impromptu bath, but this time it’ll be in a sea of molten metal!

Fieramosca: YIKES! Okay, lead the way.

Everyone: COME ON LADS LET’S GET TO WORK

(the workers and Fieramosca head to the forge. Balducci enters with the Pope.)

Balducci: Teresa! What are you doing here?

Teresa: Uh, funny story.

Pope: So, Cellini, is my statue done yet?

Cellini: Nope, but it will be very soon.

Balducci: We’ll see about that.

Pope: You better be right.

Fieramosca: (running in) We need more metal for the statue!

Cellini: What, are you messing up my statue?? Let me go see (he runs to the forge)

Balducci: Fieramosca? What are you doing wearing an apron?

Fieramosca: Would you believe me if I said I got a new job?

Cellini: (coming back) Haha nothing to see here! Everything is going according to plan! We just need a bit more metal, that’s all, no biggie.

Workers: Just one problem: There is no more metal. And the fire’s going out. If we don’t get more metal in there quick, the whole thing will be ruined!

Balducci: Well, well, well, looks like I’m winning!

Cellini: NO THIS IS NOT THE END I REFUSE TO GIVE UP! Everyone, just grab anything metal and throw it in there!

Workers: What?? Even all your old work?

Cellini: I SAID EVERYTHING DIDN’T I

(Cellini, the workers, and Ascanio all start grabbing metal things and throwing them into the furnace)

Teresa: I can’t handle this stress!!

Pope: I can’t believe the nerve of this guy! Is it possible he could actually succeed?

(An explosion comes from the forge)

Cellini: OMG THIS IS IT I’M DONE FOR

Workers: WOOHOO WE DID IT LONG LIVE CELLINI

Cellini: We did it??

Workers: VICTORY! VICTORY!! LOOK AT THE STATUE ISN'T IT AMAZING

Fieramosca: CELLINI WE DID IT HOW ABOUT A HUG

Cellini: ...how about no

Pope: Well, Cellini, I didn't think I was going to be able to say this, but you made good on your word. I officially pardon your sins, and bless your marriage to Teresa. (He leaves.)

Cellini: YAYY TERESA

Teresa: YAYY CELLINI

Everyone: VICTORY!! LONG LIVE CELLINI!! IMMORTAL GLORY! GLORY TO THE METAL-WORKERS!!!!

The End

#Benvenuto Cellini #abbreviated operas #Hector Berlioz #Léon de Wailly #Henri Auguste Barbier #opera #opera tag

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windywooshes · 5 years ago

Text

Mike x Reader

It was a busy day. The night was fuming with the chatter and buzzing of the guests of the manor. All hurrying and preparing themselves. Acting, repeating, summarising...

As an annual tradition of the Oletus Manor, hunters and survivors joined sides to prepare a play for one another. Maybe it was a rabbit hole to Neverland, escaping the devouring gloominess of the house they inhabited for so long now. A way to cope and bond with one another. A solution to forget the fear and stress from matches and to just concentrate on things which are more pleasing and fun.

It all started with the first celebration from the veterans of the manor and evolved into a yearly event. Thanks to the growing amount of inhabitants, more roles could be given out this time as well. Those who weren't picked, had the joy of helping which seasoned the theatre piece with live and spirit in the first place.

Here you come in, as you were an important part of the beehive. Alongside Violetta, who was a very skilled hobbyist tailor, you produced the costumes and accessoires for the actors, cooperating with Miss Nightingale to design the most fitting and charming pieces you laid your eyes upon.

As you were more experienced with tiny knacks and decorations for the grande piece, you were in charge of the details and small additions to each piece of design, which brings us to the current nerve wrecking problem which snacked on your patience and energy like a patroller.

As it was laid out on the drafts, one of the costumes belonged to a certain someone. And this certain someone had a certain something on a very certain spot which you had the honor to do.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried your best to focus on the swing of the brush to make the desired artwork look as stunning as possible to fit the equally beautiful outfit (and man) in front of you. Yet whenever you tried to set your ink-coated tool down you heard a chuckle of the blonde and once you realised, the color was all smeared over the leg once again, squeezing out a sigh in frustration from your throat. Quickly grabbing the now golden tainted napkin for another time, you started to wipe off the glittering paint from Mike's leg.

It made you happy to see that the manor owner finally saw the potential in the young Acrobat, gifting him more skins and Emotes with each new season. Yet this one especially threw you into the cold water.

Mike patiently sat on the chair while you tried your best not to die from the weird situation you were thrown at. Brush in your dominant hand, shaking, you attempted once again to draw an elegant pattern of a rose on to the outside of his left tight which goes all the way down to his knee. One would tell you off for being too flustered by the nugget legs of the Acrobat as he usually wears skin tight outfits which showed just as much shape and form as his current choice. Yet you never got to see so much leg from this man. It was as if his bare skin was a forbidden apple, not allowed to be seen by the mere peasants of this world and you being one of them, committing a crime of disrespect against the gods.

It was a weird reaction as other survivors and equally hunters, showed off even more than this, yet you were fazed more by a leg than a victorian aristocrat from a bare knuckle could ever be. To underline the obvious, it could have a link to your slight adoration for the blonde. When your eyes landed on the energetic lad, your mind couldn't stop taking every bit of his presence in. Matches were the worst as you'd end up as a flustered mess, shaking and nervous, letting calibrations slip or reducing your kiting time drastically to barely 15 seconds incase you knew that he was watching you from a cipher. So many matches were lost, so many Blackjack games thrown into the dust. All because of one little distraction which was Mike Morton himself.

While you were suffering, Mike was clearly enjoying himself too much. As your head never dared to look up towards him, you couldn't spot the cheeky grin which grew on his lips since you were given your task. Too focused on it. Yet here he was, enjoying every little bit of this fiasco. Playing with your hair, wiggling his legs while you set down for a stroke, standing up to get a drink...it didn't matter, as long as he could cause a bit of a trouble and have you there with him on the spot, he would sparkle like a little firecracker. Chuckling whenever he saw your adorable pouting face next to him while you tried not to make your head explode from all the frustration. His cheeky attitude found a stop when you put the brush down and rushed off to the side to finally get something to drink and snack on.

„Don't overdo it, Morton.“

A hand on his shoulder, broke him out of his trance watching how you were talking to Vera at the tables. Turning around he found old Burke himself, nudging his head before leaving him again. But not with Mike. Quickly jumping from his seat, he followed the inventor, throwing two of his juggle balls in one hand just to keep himself a bit busy.

„I think, I didn't quiet catch that, sir ?“ he said, smiling up at the frowning elder as he came to a stop.

„You shouldn't stress the poor kid out for too longer. Otherwise they'll end up like Guard 10. Not a pretty sight.“ he sighed and rubbed his chin, looking off to the side at the target themselves.

„They are very fond of you, so don't play around with that.“

And like an old wise man, he disappeared all of a sudden- to the food table.

Spotting how you finished your small break and waving a goodbye to the others who joined you, the blonde rushed back to his seat. But with a thought bugging his mind like a mosquito in summer.

„Well then...shall we try again ? This time no knee-head-bumps though.“, you chuckled as you bend your wrists a bit to get them warmed up again before taking up the seemingly impossible task once again. But when you looked up with a small smile grazing your lips, you found Mike looking a bit more uncomfortable than he was before.

„Are you okay ?“

He shook his head and put his hands up, his little sunny side up smile back on the spot where it belonged.

„All good~ don't worry about it, (Y/N).“

Yet once your head ducked down, Mike's ears tinted pinkish due to the high blood flow and heart rate. What if Burke was right ? How would he know about your feelings for him though ? He wasn't even sure about them himself. His head started to fume and before he knew it, he felt a bonk and a head on his lap. A groan of frustration emitting from the bush of hair.

It seemed that Morton started to wiggle his left leg without noticing while lost in thoughts. Much to the dismay of the poor part-time artist who just tried their best to get the job done. Regaining your mind, you noticed that the male stopped his shenanigans and your rather awkward position. Firstly you didn't want to look, yet you were rather nosy to know what Mike's face looks like. If it would hold any reaction in it besides his smily facade. And you were not disappointed. Now not only his ears but nearly his entire face became a reddish hue, especially after he felt your tight grip on his leg which you just tried to put in place for half a minute before.

Seeing THE Mike Morton blush like this, trying to hide his face behind his knuckles, it was satisfying. Not in a mean way but rather in a ‚hah, that's for all that teasing from before‘ way. But you didn't want to blow your facade for now. Clearing your throat you apologised for the small outburst, receiving a choked up ‚hm‘ as a response. Usually you'd end up a flustered mess but oh how the turns have tabled. It was difficult to hold in the laughter. The acrobat tried his best to avoid any eye contact for now but you didn't mind as you still had a small comeback in mind which you want to squeeze into his arms before leaving for your other duties. Now that the man stood still, you also finally managed to finish the golden rose on his leg.

But before he could even take some time to thank you after he cooled himself off, he felt a soft sensation on his tight. Pulling your lips away from his exposed skin you couldn't hold back the grin which krept up your cheeks like predators to their prey.

With one last poke on the nose, you left the man on the chair. A carousel of emotions twirling around his heart as he stumbled through the lobby, on his way to rehearsal.

#identity v x reader #idv x reader #mike morton x reader #identity v #x reader #reader insert #idv #idv mike #mike morton #forgot the tags I usually use #this has been in my drafts for a while #wanted to write sth for the new costumes bcs they pwetty 🥺#wondering if I should do baseball snorty too just for fun #wanted to write for some other characters as well but head empty 😔#got an idea for lucky tho #aaaah this might not be the best one btw but #I still feel kinda 👌#it could be worse krkcks

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sinningismywinning · 5 years ago

Text

Do As You Please - 1

This wasn’t something you did often. Yet again, that doesn’t mean you haven’t thought of doing it more. The wet cobblestone clicked and cracked beneath your heels. The smell of musk and filth filled your nose. You tried to avoid bars at night, but after the day you had working alongside head seamstress Jeanne Tousaint, you could really use that bourbon.

Everyone in Birmingham knew that the best place to drink was the Garrison. Well, all the men knew that. People weren’t particular about women strolling into bars, unless they were whores, or chaperoned by husbands. You knew people would strew you a line of shit once you sat down to drink, but you figured that you’d get too drunk to notice. You pushed open the doors, feeling the central slab of copper, grease your hands with grime.

With your head held high, you made your way inside the dimly lit bar. There was an uproar of conversations. You noticed a few heads turning your way, but this was a regular card you dealt with. The pub was packed, so finding a lone seat was hard enough. You sat far from the door with an empty seat to your left. On the other side of that empty seat, was a man who smelled like the floor of the bar. He had an unkempt mustache. For whatever reason, that stuck with you. The barman walked towards your section. He paused at the man who looked like he had been drinking all day. “Another one Mr. Shelby?” he questioned while puling away his empty glass. Another one? The poor bastard was drunker than a doorknob, yet the man behind the bar seemed to egg him on, or so you thought.

The man mumbled back incoherently to your ears, but somehow the tender understood perfectly what he said. Must be a regular. It didn’t take long for the bartender to pour your drink. You thanked him kindly and slid your money to him. This process carried on 3 more times, until you stopped counting.Hours had passed, and time was not your friend. Everything in your vision was warping, and quite frankly you had enough confidence to chat up any patron in this vicinity. You loved being social, even in situations when you shouldn’t. It was easy to bite your tongue, but tonight was a night of fun. You spoke freely to the man behind the bar. He didn’t shut you down for speaking about your political beliefs, and quite frankly, seemed to treat you to the same standard as any man within that very pub.

The man a few seats down had suddenly traded places, as he began to sober up, and you went in the opposite direction. He would occasionally chime in to whatever conversation you held. The bartender watched his words carefully around the man, but you didn’t get the hint to carry yourself the same way. “Say, I’ve never seen you here before,” he spoke directing his body towards you. Long nose. You always picked up on odd attributes.

“As I, to you.” You slurred raising your glass. Wrong answer. He wanted to know your name, not your input. You saw the squint of his eyes and couldn’t help but giggle. He was trying to pick your brains. “You’ve got a mouth on you, yeah?” You were a smart-ass, but alcohol brought that out completely. You nursed your drink as the bartender rubbed his stubble with angst. “Don’t all faces have mouths, Mr... Sheldon?” you shot back, trying to remember what the bartender referred to him as. He didn’t know whether to laugh, or pity you. “It’s Shelby,” he spoke deeply, getting the hint that you had no clue who you were speaking to. He was right, you didn’t. “Shelby, Sheldon, all sounds the same,” you quipped with a short laugh.

He didn’t know where you had came from. You were dressed well, and seemed to take care of yourself. You couldn’t be a whore, or a street vendor. This puzzled him more. “Names Arthur, just leave it at that,” he shook his head with thinning patience and turned his body back to the bar. You were a tricky thing to figure out. You noticed the bar drop in noise as a man walked in. He solemnly nodded to a few lads sitting down in booths. Once he filled the gap between you and Arthur, the bar resumed its previous momentum. The man depressed his posture to quickly light a cigarette. His eyes glanced to you, but only momentarily. He didn’t have to flag the man down from behind the bar, it was almost as if the bar-hand waited in place for his arrival.

You watched the interaction as you sipped your watered-down bourbon. “The usual, Mr. Shelby?” he asked sincerely. The man now sitting next to you just nodded in response. Another Shelby? They certainly didn’t look alike, and they didn’t have the same affect on a crowd as the other did. It puzzled you. You leaned forward and looked down the bar at Arthur. Some would say your balls were bigger than most. “Brothers? Or Cousins?” you asked completely dismissing the presence of the man in-between you. Arthur let out a laugh and just shook his head. He found it entertaining to watch you run your mouth with disregard. Some would find it disrespectful and embarrassing, he simply found it amusing. “Brothers,” he spoke turning to the bar-hand. “Her drinks are on me.” He had taken a liking to you.

Your eyes widened. You didn’t know whether to be flattered, or annoyed. It was as if he spoke down to you by saying that. “I haven’t drank in a long time,” you swirled your glass. “You sure you can keep up with tonight’s habit?” Now the tables turned. He was on the other end of not knowing whether to be annoyed or curious. Maybe both. His brother, the middle-man, didn’t take his eyes off of you. He wanted to see how Arthur would play this one out. The drinks were having quite an unruly effect on your mouth. “Like what you see, love?” Your words made the bartender cringe. Tommy tilted his head with amusement. “Alright miss, I think its time I catch you a walk home,” he spoke lowly. The middle man raised his hand, “No James, it’s quite alright.” he spoke with a smoother voice than his brother. James nodded from behind the bar, not wanting things to get out of grasp.

“Maybe I do like what I see,” he turned to you. His sharp eye contact was more than what you expected. Usually men were intimidated by you. He seemed to have the higher ground with this altercation. Arthur shook his head from behind him in disbelief that his brother was feeding into this. Just as you were about to respond he beat you to it. “How much do you charge?” His words floated just like the smoke that left his mouth. He knew better. He knew you weren’t a whore. You were too posh to be one, and you set your standards low to even drink in a place like this. You let out a hearty laugh. If you didn’t, all of this liquid courage might’ve made you smack him. Men and their entitlement. That’s all that rang through your brain. You could tell by his suit that he had money. Yet, the way he spoke showed that he was raised here, in the slums.

“I charge more than what you could ever afford,” you stammered, caving in to his false perception of you. Bastard. “Tommy,” Arthur spoke trying to divert his attention from you. “Ooo, like Tommy gun?” you retorted to get under his skin. He may be blunt but you were rude. His face didn’t move in reaction. “No, Tommy as in Thomas,” now he knew why Arthur didn’t move away from you after drinking. No one else spoke to them like this. No one else dared to speak to them like this. You couldn’t be genuine with your remarks, you had to know who they were. How could you not know who the fucking Shelbys were?

“Can’t afford? It’s not about money, its about standards.” He said turning away from you. You weren’t going to be walked over like this. You set your drink on the bar to get a better grip at your words, but you managed to tip it over. It spilled onto his lap in a genuine accident. People in the booths were already eyeing your altercation with the brothers. “Aw fuck!” you stumbled trying to stop the spill of the glass. People went dead silent, some even stood. Most knew that the patience of Thomas Shelby, was none.

You immediately reached for a rag resting on top of the bar. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-” You reached to dry his shirt. Boundaries and bourbon didn’t go hand-in-hand. He grabbed your wrist to stop you. Even in your moments of coldness, you still apologetically tried to help. He opened his mouth slightly to say something, but quickly closed it. You were just a drunk girl on the wrong side of town. He had figured that much by now. Your eyes locked with his. “I think its time for you to go home dear.” Arthur spoke with pity as he got up to stand next to his brothers seat. It wasn’t suppose to be a night like this. Thomas’ cigarette burned in the ash tray. You were defeated. Embarrassed by your actions. He held his grip a little too long. When you looked at his hand he let go of you.

He turned over his shoulder to see everyone else in the bar drawn to you. No one broke their gaze. He turned to Arthur. “I’’ll take her home. Don’t need someone from here following her, and throwing her body in the Cut.” he poorly whispered. Arthur nodded in agreement. Thomas came into the bar to occupy his mind. He didn’t need your interaction weighing him down, as well as how he’d feel if you, a woman, was killed after he let you drunkenly leave the pub. He turned back to you, “Let’s go.” He spoke with no room for interjection. You knew better than to be rude in an instance like this. You looked down at your feet as the floor moved and wobbled. Your eyes played tricks on you as the alcohol warmed your chest. His hand found the small of your back as he pushed your way through the crowd. You didn’t expect your night to end this way.

#tommyshelby #thomas shelby #peaky blinder imagine #peaky blinders #thomas shelby x reader #angst #slow burn #arthur shelby #original character #y/n #thomas shelby x y/n #tommy shelby #cillian murphy

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concussed-to-pieces · 6 years ago

Text

Throw Your Love Away

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure

Pairing: Robert E. O. Speedwagon/OFC

Rating: Holy shit M

AN: I don't know what even happened here. This AU (or maybe just a prelude to his run-in with Jonathan Joestar?) burst into life yesterday morning and now, dare I say, it's finished. I don't know whether I've ever written that much that quickly, and it's all for the Speedwagon. Also! If anyone feels the urge to look at the most beautiful Speedwagon that I've ever seen, I will invite you to take a gander at suzannart's Tumblr. Because holy moly. Holy Moly. Enjoy!

[!WARNING!: For my abysmal attempt at writing a Cockney accent and 'historical' things in general. I'm so, so sorry.]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: For brief attempted sexual assault and canon-typical violence. Stay safe!]

Speedwagon couldn't have told a soul why he lingered where he did on that particular evening. He still couldn't quite parse it out to himself, so he had precious little hope explaining it to anyone else.

Ogre Street was relatively quiet that night. Things tended to get pinched and shallow during the winter, folks conserving their energy by huddling up to the nearest heat source and biding their time until Lady Spring graced them with her presence once again. But Speedwagon had never paid much mind to the cold, just flipping the lapels of his coat up against the chill wind while he made his rounds.

He had stopped for shelter in a small alcove midway through his jaunt, the wind threatening to sweep the hat clean off his head. Speedwagon heard some muffled grunting in the pitch black of the alley to his left, but he paid it no mind. Probably some drunk fumbling around in the dark.

“Please don't touch me-!”

Speedwagon's shoulders shot up around his ears. That was a woman's voice, high and cracking like she wanted to scream but couldn't draw the breath. The women of Ogre Street were just as ornery as the men, if not more so, so she couldn't be a resident.

“C'mon sweeting, let me see what's under that fancy party dress of yours…” came the slurring reply. “It’ll only hurt a little, I promise.”

“Get away from me!”

Speedwagon had heard more than enough, his jaw set in a grim line as he stormed further into the sheltered alcove. “Oi! What're you playing at there lad?” He shouted, probably louder than he needed to.

As his eyes adjusted to the significantly dimmer light, he could barely make out a lighter-colored mass on the ground. Something brushed past his arm and on instinct he grabbed, snatching a handful of homespun wool. The man squealed in surprise at being caught, twisting wildly this way and that to try and get out of Speedwagon's grip. “Mercy, Speedwagon! I-I didn't know she was yours! I wouldn't have-”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have your guts for garters right here an’ now.” Speedwagon snarled, his face inches away from the other man's.

“Ah, I might have...er, my hand slipped a bit…” The man hemmed and hawed, holding up his hands and a bloodied knife as if to appease Speedwagon. “Honest, it were an accident!”

“Get out of my sight.” Speedwagon tossed the man a good three feet, not turning until he had bolted back out into the street. “Oi, girl! You alright then?” He asked sharply, getting no reply.

She was lying limp on the ground in the snow, blood slowly pooling at her side. Speedwagon swore a blue streak and clapped a hand over her hip, feeling the frayed material of her flimsy party dress beneath his fingers and the slick heat of injured flesh.

“Easy now love, Speedwagon's got you.” He muttered mainly for his own benefit, taking the worn scarf off his neck and folding it to press onto the wound. “Easy, easy.”

She seemed to have lost consciousness and Speedwagon thanked his stars for that. Hopefully she wouldn't feel him jostling her as he picked her up.

“You are a proper lady. Wonder how you ended up here.” Speedwagon mused once he got a good look at her in the guttering light of the street lamps, perplexed. “No matter, ol’ Rob will have you right as rain in no time.”

She still hadn't roused herself after Robert had bound her wounds and wrapped her in the meager blankets he could scrounge up. He sat beside the pallet on the floor and took her hand. He wasn't sure why, but he'd seen doctors do it a few times so it invited imitating. Speedwagon realized after a minute that he could feel her pulse under his thumb, and he started absently counting the beats in time with his breathing. It was fast, almost made him lightheaded. That can't be good. Speedwagon frowned, brushing the hair off her forehead. He was no doctor, was Speedwagon, and they were hard to come by without the coin.

So he sighed and resigned himself to a sleepless night of watching her like a hawk.

…

He awoke to screaming and, still half asleep, Robert had his gun drawn and cocked before he realized what was happening. She was cowering on the pallet, blankets still wrapped around her as she flailed her leg out at--

A mouse, questing curiously up the worn bedding with little regard for her. Speedwagon didn't mean to chuckle, holstering his pistol and carefully shooing the vermin off the bed. “Go on lad, go on.” He murmured.

“Where am I?” She demanded after a momentary stunned silence.

“My sleeping quarters.”

“I mean where! I can see that I'm in some flea-ridden excuse for a bed!” She snapped at his glibness, clutching the blankets even tighter.

“Lord, you're lively compared to the gel that was all aswoon last night.” Speedwagon couldn't resist teasing a bit. “I'm glad that your side's not painin’ you overmuch, love.”

“My side? My…” She trailed off, her eyes half-lidding. “What happened?”

“One of the guttersnipes was tryin’ to...get to know ya’ a bit better. I warned him off, but not before he made to see the color of your insides.” Speedwagon winced inwardly, knowing that his language was rough.

She paled immediately, one hand vanishing beneath the blanket. “What am I wearing?”

“One of my shirts. I had to...you were bleeding.” Robert didn't know why he was fumbling. “Why weren't you wearing a corset? Whalebone or metal ribs might have stopped that blade before it did harm.”

“It's none of your business what undergarments I do or do not wear.” She replied primly.

“Fair enough and true that may be. Would you at least tell me what you were doing down in my slums then? I doubt you were here on purpose, out and about dressed like that.” Speedwagon tipped his hat back on his head, tugging thoughtfully at his forelock. “Though you rich folks seem awful poor when it comes to common sense.”

“I was...at a party.”

Speedwagon waited a moment, expecting more and huffing, “Well? That's it then?” when it didn't come.

“Why would I tell you more? I don't even know who you are!”

“Look here love, I'm of a right mind to stove in a head or two. If someone dropped you down here for a laugh, I'll march to his doorstep and give him a good drubbing. If someone made you leave your home in the dead of night dressed like that, I'll thrash him. I'm in no mood for japes that put young ladies in harm's way.” Speedwagon announced firmly, “The name's Robert E. O. Speedwagon, my lady.”

“Well. That was a lot of information.” She said weakly. “I'm afraid you'll have to drub me though, since I'm the one who put myself in that alley. I-I'm not familiar with this city. I came out to visit my fiance, you see, and…” She paused and Speedwagon spotted the sheen of tears before she blinked them away. “Pardon, I suppose I should not refer to him as such anymore.”

“Did he die then?” Speedwagon wished he could take the words back as soon as they left his mouth, cringing.

“Oh it's a terrible thing to say, Mr. Speedwagon, but I almost wish he had!” She cried. “That wretch has been stringing me along, stringing along my whole family! All his heartfelt platitudes and lovely poetic letters, just a means to an end! I caught him in such a compromising position with another woman and I couldn't bear to be in his presence one more second, I simply ran out of the house.”

“No doubt the side lover that a good married woman wouldn't know about.” Robert said darkly. “Well my lady, you're wrong on one account. Sounds like this betrothed of yours is the one what needs a straightening out.”

“He didn't force me to leave, Mr. Speedwagon. I was a coward and fled.” She wrung her hands in obvious distress. “A stronger woman would have confronted him.”

“Aye, and withstood the hellfire that was sure to come. I mean no disrespect love, but your frame doesn't strike much fear.” Speedwagon got to his feet, donning his coat and tossing her flimsy dress to her. He gestured at the battered washstand in the corner. “Scrub yourself in the basin, loving. Then, old Speedwagon will be your bloodhound.”

Her face hardened and she wiped away her tears, nodding jerkily.

Speedwagon leaned against the wall outside the door, doing his best to give her the privacy of a good cry and wash. Though she may be full up on weeping, judging from her resolved expression. He sighed and tugged at his lapels. A fine mess you're getting into, Speedwagon. You know these rich folks love to have pissing matches with one another.

…

She clung to his arm, shivering even under the extra layers of his shirt and jacket over her dress. “M-M-M-Mr. Speedwagon, are you not chilled?” She stuttered through her chattering teeth.

“When you been sleepin�� rough as long as me, loving, you tend to get used to the cold.” Speedwagon tossed her a grin. “Besides, if your description an’ memory is correct, we’re almost there! How's the side?”

“It stings a bit, but I'll manage. It was barely a graze.” She replied bravely. “Still, I'm glad you found me. In such a state, I don't know how long I would have lasted.”

“Think nothing of it, my lady. I come across helpless damsels in the gutter all the time. A regular Prince Charming am I, you might say!” Speedwagon said cockily, chuckling when she elbowed him in the ribs.

“You say such silly things, Mr. Speedwagon.”

“Darling?”

Speedwagon felt her jerk at the sound of the male voice, her grip on his arm threatening to bruise. And he was no small man! “Mr. Speedwagon, I'd like to introduce you to my former fiance, Lambert Coverdale.” Her tone was as cold as the weather and Speedwagon glared down at the well-dressed man who had called her ‘darling’.

“Darling, your family has been worried sick! You ran out so quickly last night, you didn't even give me the chance to explain!” The man was dressed like he was headed for a ride, tall boots on and riding crop at his side. “I was about to go and search for you again!”

“As you can see, darling, I'm quite fine. A little chilled, but none the worse for the wear. Don't let me stop you from going a-calling.”

“And who is this...er…” Speedwagon got an insane surge of glee from watching the Coverdale heir try and come up with a non-offensive term to use when addressing him, a man so clearly below his caste that he may as well be subterranean.

“Speedwagon.” Robert intoned, not offering his hand in a plain show of disdain. The man snapped the riding crop down into his palm, obviously agitated by Speedwagon's rudeness. “I've come to bring this gel safely back to her parents. Lead the way, love.” Robert made certain to keep his body between her and her former fiance as they brushed past him, his shoulder bumping the other man's a bit harder than necessary. “I'd advise you and your lot to leave as soon as things are sorted. That man is not to be trusted.” He whispered to her once they were safely out of earshot. “I'll wager he means to lay claim to you since he's gone this far. He may have even spent the night weaving a story for your parents.”

She had gone pale again. “You think he would try to force himself on me?”

“I can't tell for certain, love. All I know is that animals are dangerous when cornered, and that man's as slippery as a viper.” Speedwagon growled.

The door to the large townhouse burst open before they could reach the steps, and an older gentleman came storming down to greet them. Speedwagon was reaching for the brim of his hat before he could think about it, hastily turning it into a doffing gesture. That was close.

“Emma! You've returned to us!” The older man (Speedwagon could only assume her father) said gladly, entirely ignoring Robert and catching his daughter up in his arms like she was a wee child. She had started sniffling at the sight of him and simply nodded against his shoulder, throwing her arms around his neck and clinging tight. “When Lambert told us about your quarrel, we had feared the worst. Thank heavens you're safe.”

“Our quarrel?” Emma asked in confusion, raising her face.

“Oh yes my dear, he said you two had a terrible argument and that you left in tears! You were so distraught you even ignored his pleas to stay.”

“He said all that, did he.” Emma's eyes had gone hard again. “Papa, I would like to introduce you to Mr. Robert Speedwagon. He is a true gentleman and he saved my life last night.”

Speedwagon went bright red at the praise, stammering awkwardly and adjusting the collar of his shirt. Emma's father grabbed Robert's hand and pumped it vigorously. “I don't know whether we can ever repay you. Won't you come inside, Mr. Speedwagon?”

He hadn't actually stopped shaking his hand. Robert was afraid his shoulder would drop off at this rate. Damn these rich folk and their gratitude! He thought ruefully. “Oh no, uh, I wouldn't want to impose on your hospitality.” Next to the older man's cultured tones, his rough Cockney accent seemed all the thicker.

“Emma's mother was just getting ready to have tea. Please Mr. Speedwagon, I insist!”

And so Robert E. O. Speedwagon found himself seated on a filigree chair that he fairly dwarfed, fumbling his way through the niceties of tea. Emma kept shooting him grateful looks and he wasn't entirely sure if it made up for the trouble he had been put through, but it was a start.

“Listen.” The blond man said finally, his saucer clattering too loudly on the slender side table for the umpteenth time. Christ, if he ever lost his temper surrounded by furniture like this it would be reduced to naught but matchsticks! “I don't care much for beatin’ round the bush. Lo-er, Lady Emma, you ought to explain the situation.”

“Situation?” Emma's mother appeared to be a little more grounded than her father, the older woman sipping her tea and giving Robert an inquisitive look over the cup.

“I did not leave last night because of a quarrel.” Emma had been put into a different dress, still free of corset, Robert noted. It would be difficult for her to wear one with the wound on her side, he theorized, and he had to admit he hardly minded the view her lack of corset provided. She dug into the ruffles of her skirt, her fingers picking at unseen seams. “It would seem that I am not Lambert’s first choice.”

“Not his first…” Her father trailed off, stunned. Her mother just looked pained. Clearly the other woman had suspected as much. “Emma, have you any proof?”

“I found him in his study last night, wrapped around another woman. I...I'm afraid I lost my senses.”

Aye, and more besides I'll wager! Speedwagon thought wryly.

“I demanded an explanation and when none was forthcoming, I simply...walked out the door. I don't recall much, I ran for what seemed an eternity. I didn't feel the cold at all.” Emma tilted her chin towards Robert, indicating that it was his time to butt in.

“My residence is Ogre Street, sir. I make my rounds as usual on cold nights or warm. I had stopped for a moment in a small alley to wait out the wind, wherein I stumbled across Lady Emma and another miscreant. I regret to say I am a bit on the slower side, I didn't manage to keep him from slittin’ her. You'll want a doctor to have a look at the wound, I'd imagine.” He had gotten to his feet, beginning to pace. “I wrapped it as best as I could, she slept through the night. On waking and hearing the sad tale of her exodus, I decided that someone so churlish as that man's shown himself to be ought to get his jaw knocked.” Robert realized he'd gone on a bit of a tirade and he grimaced, tugging at his forelock. “Ah, I mean no disrespect, of course. And if it's all a misunderstanding, I'll be on my way without so much as a sneeze in the cur's direction.”

“Mr. Speedwagon, please sit back down.” Emma's mother said firmly. “There'll be no jaw knocking until we have a proper idea of the situation.”

“What exactly did you see Lambert doing, Emma?” Her father asked gently.

Emma flinched. “Father, I…” She trailed off, flushing. Robert felt a weird protective squeeze in his chest and he cleared his throat. “It's not something that I would care to repeat in polite company.” She said faintly.

“Lucky for you, Lady Emma, I weren't exactly raised a choir boy.” Speedwagon joked, trying to give her the courage to continue.

“True enough, Mr. Speedwagon. Father, Mother, Lambert was in his study very busily ravishing another woman who I know lives nearby.” Emma said all in a rush, her face wholly crimson. “I was so shocked, I couldn't even move for a moment. I stood there in the doorway and so complete was his focus on her, he didn't even notice me until I was beside him.”

Emma's father sputtered wildly. In a moment of fancy Speedwagon would have sworn the older man's mustache bristled with rage.

“I asked him to explain himself. He said he didn't have to, that this was the way things were.” Emma twisted her fingers. “I didn't understand, I was just so startled and hurt that I...I simply left.” She looked up at her father and oddly enough, at Speedwagon as well. “Am I wrong to be upset? Is this how things are?” She asked, her voice tremulous. “Am I simply naive, thinking that I would be enough?”

“Lady Emma…” Robert was at a loss for words, the blatant pain in her eyes catching him off-guard.

“Emma, my dear sweet Emma.” Her father held open his arms again and Emma all but collapsed into them, crying softly while he stroked her hair. “You are worth so much more love than that man's fickle heart could have ever given you.”

“Mr. Speedwagon, might I speak with you privately for a moment?” Emma's mother asked. Despite it being phrased as a question, Robert knew there was no refusing.

“‘Course, my lady.” He was relatively certain he was about to get his ears boxed by this prim and proper old woman, following her out of the sitting room and into the hallway.

“I will need your assistance in this matter, Mr. Speedwagon.” Robert blinked down at her. “Don’t look at me like you're some sort of buffoon! You brought our daughter home safe and from what I can gather unmolested, but I must ask more of you.”

“Me? But what could I possibly do for y'ladyship?” Speedwagon queried, more than a little startled. “I'm just a thug from Ogre Street.”

“True. Yet you obviously hold yourself to a higher standard than the ruffians you're surrounded by. Clearly higher than the scoundrel we promised our only daughter to. My husband, God bless him, is not getting any younger. If Lambert sees fit to lash out, I doubt the authorities would arrive in time to stop a tragic incident from occurring.” She raised an eyebrow at Speedwagon. “We are on Coverdale familial grounds and can do very little while we are here. I would be much obliged if you could maintain a presence here for a few more hours. If you would be so kind.”

“I...ma'am, what you're askin’ of me is a bit of a strange tint, make no mistake. I am...I will, then. Until you lot are safe back on your way, consider Mr. Speedwagon part of your merry band!” She seemed amused by the way he extended a hand to shake, humoring him by doing so.

“We need to get everything packed back up. This was to be the first trip of many, and these things take time. If you would just settle back in the drawing room, I'm certain we can be on our way in a few hours.”

Six hours later, Speedwagon was so bored he was considering trying to filch the entire tea set, tray and all. The fancy gold scrollwork on the ceramic would fetch a fair price, he was certain of that, and the spoons and tray could be melted down to a silversmith’s liking. As he pondered, he was vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps coming ever closer.

The far door to the sitting room flew open and in strode Lambert, looking like he had just fucked the handsiest whore in London. His clothes were askew, his hair was thoroughly mussed, and overall he radiated a smug air that made Speedwagon want to drag him back outside by his collar and introduce his face to the cobblestones. It seemed Lambert didn't notice him in the now dim room, as the man took a moment to preen at himself in the looking glass by the door before turning on his heel and heading across the room.

“Got anything stronger than tea for your courage, Coverdale?” Speedwagon drawled, making Lambert squeak. “I'm about full up of this weak pekoe brew.”

The other man whirled, eyes narrowing when they landed on Speedwagon. Robert simply looked up at him, deliberately keeping his face neutral. “You're still here then?” Lambert finally asked rudely.

“Why, where else would I have gone? What with my betrothed on her way back to me, all's well in the world.” Lambert visibly stiffened and Robert prayed he hadn't played his hand too early.

“Your betrothed? Certainly, there must be a misunderstanding.”

“Oh aye, she came tumbling into the rough streets late last night, sobbing her eyes out over some chap that done her wrong. I couldn't let that go on, so I told her I'd marry her instead of that jackanapes.” The large blond offered Lambert an infuriating grin. “She's enthusiastically accepted my gracious offer, so you're free to do as you wish with your other woman. I'd say I've done you quite the favor by taking the gel off your hands.”

“You...you cannot be serious.”

“On the contrary, lordship, I'm very serious.” Robert's grin didn't waver. He took sadistic delight in calling the gentry by the wrong titles, whether too high or too low was anyone's guess.

“Stop this ridiculous farce at once!” Lambert yelled, the butt of his riding crop nervously slapping at his thigh. “I'll have you brought before the assizes, you miserable wretch!”

“Why, whatever for?” Speedwagon rose to his full height, straightening his threadbare waistcoat. “And here I thought you'd be thrilled! Rich folk are so odd, you've got everything you could ever want and yet you bluster at me like a spring storm! I've half a mind to drub you anyway, no man ought to be breaking his vows ‘fore they're even spoken!” Robert growled.

He was a full head and shoulders taller than Lambert and he made that abundantly clear, glaring down at the fop until Lambert looked away with a huff of, “Where is Emma, you brute?”

“Ah, none of that. You can guess well enough where she is, but I won't be letting someone like you get anywhere near Lady Emma.”

Lambert scoffed loudly. “Lady Emma, she's a common-”

“I'll offer you the courtesy of shutting your mouth for you if I don't care for the words that come out it, Lam my lad.” Robert snarled. “I don't give a toss what comes of you after Lady Emma departs this house, but I expect you to behave as the gentleman you pretended to be during your courtship while she's still here. If you can't muster up that level of propriety, I'm not afraid to get into a dustup with the likes of you.”

“You will not threaten me in my own house!”

“I threaten you no more than the average schoolmarm, sirrah.” Speedwagon knew it was probably mean of him to take joy in this, but he recalled the fact that an innocent girl, barely a woman, could have very well died due to this man's indiscretion and his guilt withered away. “You seem as though someone ought to have given you stricter teaching. Not much one for catechism then?”

“You're one to talk, street trash!” Lambert seemed to be on the verge of losing his temper and Robert dropped a heavy arm around his shoulders.

“I meant no disrespect, y'lordship. I merely say as I see fit. You must understand, I'm just a thug from Ogre Street.” Speedwagon sighed mournfully. “Hopefully with this marriage, my fortunes will improve a bit.”

Coverdale appeared to have been struck dumb by Speedwagon's bold assumption, the young man sputtering while Robert gently steered him towards a chair. “You overreach your place, gutter vermin.” Lambert finally seethed once he was seated.

Robert shrugged, digging in his ear and then uncouthly flicking his findings onto the no-doubt costly rug. “I've not much an issue with that, sirrah. When your place has always been under the heel of someone else's boot, you get to longin’ for the sunlight.” He folded his arms across his chest and leveled the man in the chair with a stern look. It had quelled the rowdiest of his compatriots and it appeared to work quite well on the Coverdale heir. “I'll not lay a hand on you with ill intent if you behave agreeable toward the gel and her family. You and I will sit right here and wait until they're all packed, you'll see them off and that'll be the end of it.”

“I will not be ordered around by some-”

“I've been awful lenient with you, lordship. I'd hate to damage that winning smile you use to tup the ladies.” Speedwagon clenched his fists. “I would ask what your plan was with Lady Emma, but I'll wager a guess it had something to do with family land or money.” He fought the urge to spit on the rug.

“Oh very good, I'm incredibly impressed by your display of logic.” Lambert replied sarcastically.

Speedwagon leaned forward and was gratified when Coverdale shrank back from him. “If you would just stay in that bloody chair and keep your trap shut, I'd be much obliged.”

“Unbelievable.” Lambert sneered, folding his arms and hoisting his nose into the air. “Very well, you churl.”

“You honor me, your grace.”

Robert didn't take his eyes off the man sulking across from him for the next half hour, toying absently with the brim of his hat. A sudden bang! from the stairwell and a loud series of thuds heralded the approach of Emma and her parents, each one dragging a trunk. Speedwagon rushed forward, easily hefting the one Emma's mother had been saddled with.

“Are they all this light, my lady?” He jibed, making the older woman hide a smile behind her hand. “If you just leave those two on the landing, ol’ Speedwagon can take care of the rest. Strapping fella’ that I am!”

“Uncultured oaf.” Lambert muttered from his chair.

“You offerin’ to help, Coverdale?” Speedwagon asked, his smile wide with false cheer.

“I am not some manservant.” Lambert snorted.

“Well that's plain enough to see.” Speedwagon snarked back, strolling down the ridiculously wide staircase without so much as a glance backwards. Rich folk are impossible! He thought with a huff after he settled the first trunk onto Emma's family carriage. The second and third followed suit with little incident, Emma's father ensuring they were safely lashed to the rack of the carriage.

As Robert strode back into the townhouse for what he hoped was the final time, he heard a ruckus from upstairs. He sighed heavily and started up the stairs, rolling his sleeves to the elbow as he did.

Throwing open the drawing room door, he found himself faced with a sight he didn't care for in the slightest.

Lambert had Emma by the arm, his face purpling magnificently as he raised his riding crop with a self-righteous, “I'll teach you respect!”

“You spoilt, pampered ponce!” Speedwagon shouted, “Harm that woman and I'll separate the hand from your body with nothin’ but a tip of the hat!” He gestured to his chapeaux and the color left Coverdale's cheeks when he caught the glint of steel in the brim. “I didn't survive as long as I have on Ogre Street without pickin’ up a few tricks.” Speedwagon continued, easing forward to help Emma off the floor and usher the shocked young woman into her mother's waiting arms. “I'll be down to see you off in a minute, Lady Emma. Just as soon as I finish my conversation with this fine gentleman.”

Again, Robert felt a twinge of guilt at the way he was enjoying himself. And again, his mind reminded him of the abuse that surely would have taken place had he not been present.

Lambert brandished the riding crop at him, holding it like a fencer's rapier. “Do your worst, you baseborn scum!” He hissed.

Speedwagon simply knocked the crop aside with his free hand and then stepped into reach, his right fist lashing out for a furious blow to the chin that landed Lambert prone. “You couldn't handle my worst, sirrah, and that's an ironclad truth it is. You'd best keep your nose clean. If I hear of you sniffing about from any of my lads, I'll have to show off my parlor tricks. And I assure you, it'll be far less enjoyable than that love tap I gave you a moment ago.” Robert straightened his waistcoat, turned on his heel and left Lambert in a pile on the landing.

…

Emma wrote to him after spring had come, inviting him to call at their estate in the country. How she had gotten hold of his address, Speedwagon would never know. He debated on writing back. Ink and parchment were a bit more precious than he would care for, so Robert ended up returning her missive via the back of some receipts picked up at the local butcher. His handwriting was untidy at best, but he tried to even out his scrawl to the point of vague legibility.

Course I'll visit. Have to find a work crew headed your way though. Travel by train is murder on the pocket.

Speedwagon expected that to be the end of it, so when the damn woman herself showed up at his door he was a tad perplexed. He actually ended up rubbing his eyes a few times, not believing that she was standing on the worn stairs next to his humble abode. “Lady Emma! Is that you? My stars, a better sight for sore eyes I haven't seen!” He greeted her in his usual enthusiastic fashion, a little startled to find that the words were entirely true. “You're just as lovely as the first time I laid eyes on you!” She had grown worryingly pale, if memory served him proper.

“Ah yes, bleeding in an alley as I recall.” She quipped, smiling up at him.

Robert coughed awkwardly, toying with his forelock. “Well, er, perhaps a bit more lovely than that. I meant no disrespect, my lady.”

“Not at all! Are you ready?”

“Ready?” Speedwagon asked in confusion.

“I'm here to fetch you, Mr. Speedwagon.” She actually pulled at his arm like he was a small boy. “Hurry and get your things, otherwise we'll be late for the train!”

“Train?! Stars, you shouldn't tease a man so!” He scolded her, bewildered when she frowned fiercely. “You...surely you haven't.”

“Hurry!” Emma repeated.

Robert grabbed his hat and jacket, wet his thick hair down and hurriedly rinsed the dried blood off his wounded knuckles (he had been taking care of business directly before receiving word that a young lady was on his stoop). He dashed back out of his lodgings, twirling his hat before placing it on his head at a jaunty angle. Speedwagon then offered Emma his arm and a rakish grin, feeling like a mischievous boy once more. “How am I to repay you and yours for such a luxury, Lady Emma?” He bemoaned as they walked. “I'm none too influential, but I've a few favors I can call in.”

“Nonsense! Your company is more than sufficient.” Emma waved off his offer, going so far as to rest her free hand on top of his elbow.

Speedwagon flushed and found himself a bit teary at her offhanded admission of affection. Damn rich folk, their glibness will be the death of me for certain!

…

The Halford estate was modest in size by estate standards (so enormous by Speedwagon's standards), set on sprawling lands and bordered by thick copses of silver birch.

It was like a dream, being surrounded by greenery in its natural and uncultivated state. Robert took a deep breath in of the bracing air, dawdling as Emma pointed out the vinca that grew in the underbrush alongside the road. She bent down and picked one of the purple blossoms, then reached up to put it in the band of his hat.

Speedwagon blushed and obligingly removed his hat so she could place the bloom, laughing self-consciously when she worriedly pointed out how red his cheeks were. “It's just the fresh air turnin’ me ruddy, Lady Emma! No need for concern.” She could never be happy with the likes of you, and you're a damn fool for entertaining the notion. Speedwagon scolded himself.

“What's got you so pensive, Mr. Speedwagon? Surely you can't be worried about seeing my parents again? After all your heroics last time!” Emma chided him, misinterpreting his gloomy expression.

“Heroics?! Now love, I don't know what you recall me doing,” Robert began to protest, “Ol’ Speedwagon was simply doing the gentlemanly thing is all, nothing heroic about it, and you can't say the lad didn't have it coming what with his infidelity and brazen behavior, I was-”

“Mama will surely call a doctor for your hands.” Emma interrupted his ramble, frowning down at the scabbing skin on his knuckles. “Maybe I can say you had a tussle with the rose bush.”

“Unless your rose bush is over six foot tall and answers to the name Eurich, I'm not sure if your story will hold water.” Speedwagon smiled once more, a bit on the rueful side. He was caught off guard by her laughter and he relished the happy sound (coupled with the way her hold on his arm tightened). “You've got a lovely laugh, Lady Emma!” He complimented her, “Ought to do it more often.”

“I am certain I sound like a gaggle of hungry geese, but it's very kind of you to preserve my vanity.”

Speedwagon's reply was an over-loud honk! and that set her off again, the two of them laughing their way up the front steps of the Halford estate.

…

Speedwagon bedded down for the night in a guest room that was three times the size of his lodgings on Ogre Street. The bed felt gargantuan and too soft, like it was fit to swallow him whole. He stared up at the ceiling, raising a bandaged hand and wriggling his fingers.

“What are you playing at, Speedwagon?” He sighed. “These folk have no business harboring a gutter rat like you at their country estate. Especially with their lovely daughter around! Rich folk and their gratitude will be the death of me, sure as the sunrise.” Robert muttered. A knock on the door startled him and Speedwagon hurriedly fumbled to right himself in the too-giving bed, awkwardly asking who it was.

“It's just Emma, Mr. Speedwagon.”

“Ah.” Panic flooded him, certainly this was some sort of breach in propriety?! She couldn't possibly be this dense. Unsure of what to actually do, he did the only thing he could think of. “Uh, c-come in!”

She was wearing a simple nightgown that buttoned at the throat (Speedwagon was struck with the sudden urge to run his fingers over the smooth column of her neck), and she wasted no time clambering up onto the huge bed like that was where she belonged. Robert clutched the coverlet to his bare chest, feeling oddly exposed.

She had a thick book with her, he noticed dimly, the spine of it emblazoned with some incomprehensible gibberish of branded letters. “Look here, Mr. Speedwagon! Tomorrow, if it's alright with you, I'd love to show you some of my favorite flora on our estate!”

Speedwagon blinked at her owlishly. He had thought for certain that when she crawled into his bed…

Relief and disappointment settled over him in equal measure while she flipped through the pages of sketched plant life and pointed out the ones they would be seeing on the morrow. She really was just this sweet, this lovely. What an angel! Emotion tugged at his heart and Robert found himself leaning closer, blond hair falling into his eyes as he listened intently without hearing a damn word.

A gentle rap on the ajar door interrupted her excited tangent and Robert looked up guiltily, seeing her mother in the doorway. “Emma love, it's time for bed.”

“But Mama, I was…” Emma trailed off and sighed, almost pouting.

“Mr. Speedwagon will be here for you to bend his ear in the morning, I'm fairly certain. Come along now.” Her mother's tone was full of fond steel. Clearly she knew her daughter well, and loved her despite it all.

Robert fidgeted with the covers, flushing scarlet when Emma hugged him and then bounded off the bed with her book in tow. “I-I look forward to the stroll tomorrow, Lady Emma!” He said belatedly, tugging at his forelock in that nervous gesture.

Emma's mother lingered in the doorway after the younger woman had left, her expression thoughtful. “Mr. Speedwagon, Robert, if I may be frank with you for a moment?” She asked finally.

Robert's heart sank and he nodded mutely, certain that this was where he would be given a stern warning against familiarity with the gentry.

“My daughter is...she's a bit simple, Robert.” The older woman sighed. “She doesn't understand what suitors are actually interested in hearing about. All she cares for is her plants. And ever since what happened with Lambert, it's as though she's given up entirely on even feigning interest in polite conversation.”

“I'm not certain I grasp what y’ mean, my lady.”

The confusion must have been plain on his face because the older woman’s expression softened a bit. “Robert, my daughter has displayed an enthusiasm around you that I haven't seen from her in months. I had feared she would fall into poor health and entirely withdraw from society. But with you here, it's almost as if she's come back to life again, so to speak. I...thank you, Robert. Be delicate with her.”

Speedwagon barely slept that night. Be delicate with her. Was the mother giving her approval?! Surely not. That couldn't be it. Maybe she just assumed that their friendship might be beneficial in keeping her daughter's spirits up. That must be it. The rich folk certainly did seem to love having a token lower class in their midst, if only for the rough accent or entertaining idioms. The court jester to their kings and queens.

Robert groaned and buried his face in the pillow. That was all he was, so he may as well get used to it.

…

He didn't count on falling in love with his Lady Emma. Rather, he hadn't intended on it. But as spring turned to summer and summer to fall, he found himself a semi-frequent caller at the Halford estate. Emma was always delighted to meet him at the train station and he knew people must gossip about them. They made quite the pair after all, the rough-talking plug ugly from Ogre Street and the jilted Halford daughter who had nearly faded away like her beloved flowers at the first frost.

“What could she possibly see in him?”

“I bet this is some kind of gamble to trick her into signing the estate over to him! He's a con man through and through!”

“They just don't understand. And they don't care to.” Emma replied simply after Robert had voiced his concerns about the terrible things people said. It was less for his own comfort and more for hers, of course, he didn't give a damn what anyone called him. “You, Mr. Speedwagon, are my dear friend. If they cannot accept that, then I cannot accept them.”

With the chill of fall in the air, Ogre Street grew more frenzied. Winter was around the corner and Speedwagon found himself in the middle of more brouhahas than he would like as tempers thinned.

He stopped replying to Emma's letters, his focus wholly on survival, so it should come as no surprise to him that she popped up on his doorstep once again.

Speedwagon had been involved in a thunderous row with another upstart gang on Ogre Street and he could feel regret in his bones as he slowly dragged himself up the stairs to his lodgings shortly after sunrise. When he raised his eyes and spotted a lacy hemline, he stopped where he was. His brain sluggishly reminded him that it was rude to stare at a woman's ankles and so he tilted his head back. “Ah.” He rasped.

“Robert E. O. Speedwagon, what on earth has happened to you?!” Emma sounded distressed and Robert cursed himself roundly for concerning her. “You haven't replied to any of my letters, I feared the absolute worst!”

“I apologize for that, Lady Emma, I've been a bit...preoccupied.” Robert tried for a smile. “Had a run-in with a few boys from across the way. Am I to come a-callin’ to the Halford estate then?”

She stomped down the steps and threw her arms around him, startling him into silence. “You stupid man.” She muttered against his waistcoat, her voice thick. The feeling of her body against his sent shudders down his spine and Speedwagon was ashamed to admit that his greed got the better of him for a few moments. His arm wrapped around her and he cradled her head to his chest, murmuring nonsense into those thick raven curls. “Absolutely stupid.” She repeated shakily. “I have been worried sick, Mr. Speedwagon.”

“You were afeared for me, Lady Emma? Your kindness knows no bounds.” Speedwagon attempted to joke, his poor heart taking more of a beating than his body had. She had no business saying things like that to him, no business at all. “It's been a hard time of it here, I'm about ready to be whisked away to the country I'd say.” He offered her his arm. “Shall we, my dear Lady Emma?”

She stared up at him for a moment and Robert was instantly self conscious, mind running from the scar on the left side of his face to the smattering of freckles across the bridge of his somewhat-crooked nose. Truly he had a wide variety of unflattering features to peruse!

“What?” He asked finally.

“There's…” Emma fumbled with her sleeve for a moment, retrieving her handkerchief and daubing gingerly at his mouth. “You've got a little...something.” She said faintly. Robert licked the corner of his mouth on instinct and she flinched the tiniest bit, as if the sight of his tongue had startled her, before returning to her task of patting over his bottom lip.

“Easy Lady Emma, you'll take it clean off!” Speedwagon teased, trying to hide the tremor in his voice from the tender attentions she was paying to his split lip. His heart was being crushed to powder in his chest, ash that scattered to the wind every time he sternly reminded himself of their differences. “Much as I would like to sit here and have you doctor me, love, I'm certain we'll miss your train if we linger.”

…

Speedwagon cursed his infernal bad luck for the tenth time that morning, a violent sneeze rattling his whole body. It would seem that getting into tussles in the brisk fall weather had landed him in bed with a fever. He couldn't even recall the last time he had been ill! What damnable timing it was, to be bedridden while at the Halford's!

Though…

He cast his gaze upon the young woman who had firmly declared she was his nurse, watching the way her lips curved around words as she read aloud to him from yet another one of her favorite books. Perhaps it wasn't such a terrible thing to be nursed back to health by his dear Lady Emma, he admitted to himself. Though it pained his heart, at least for this pitifully short time he could play at being the one she gave her affections to.

And such affections! She alternated between fond exasperation and gut-wrenching tenderness, the combination often enough to have Robert pressing his reddened face to the pillow after she would depart. At least that he could blame on the ague, thank his stars for small favors.

It was havoc on his body, so starved for gentleness that he found himself helplessly coloring at every careful touch on his forehead. It didn't make matters easier that he was already so fair, a flush rising at the slightest change in his temperature.

The way his bones ached from the fever had him curled up in a miserable ball, still shivering under the heavy blankets. “Thank you, Lady Emma.” He managed to say when she brought him some water. “Afraid I'm none too formidable at the moment. Imagine what your town folk would say if they saw me lyin’ here, the meddlesome and dangerous thug from Ogre Street.” He grinned weakly and she gave him a light bop on the head.

“You're so much more than that, Mr. Speedwagon.” Emma huffed. “Don't forget, you fought for the honor of a woman you barely knew.”

“And I'd do it again in a flash! Let that bastard come!” Speedwagon boasted, his heart speeding up a bit when she fixed him with an unimpressed look. “Er, once I'm well, of course. But with your doctoring I'm sure I'll be back to the old Speedwagon in no time!”

“Mm, more’s the pity. I've rather enjoyed having you at my mercy.” Emma actually perched on the edge of the bed and leaned in, as if to kiss him. Robert was frozen stiff in disbelief, unsure if he should push her away or simply pull back or--

She brushed her nose against the tip of his own with a childish giggle and Robert couldn't help his startled laughter, a little overwhelmed by the panic that had flooded his body. “You shouldn't tease your poor Speedwagon, Lady Emma!” He protested after a moment, probably sounding just a touch hysterical. “A gel like you with a man such as myself, it’s unthinkable!”

“Is it though?” Emma asked flippantly before she flounced from the room.

Is it though?

Speedwagon's heart plummeted to the floorboards. “It absolutely is.” He muttered, clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap.

…

“I haven't got anything to give her, Master Halford. I can't offer her safety or wealth or anything but a hard life. This is what I'm...this is why I'm leaving. I don't intend to hurt the gel like that other cur and as such, it's for the best that I leave immediately.” Robert focused on the mantle, the young man unable to meet the eyes of Emma's father.

“You think that leaving without saying a word won't harm her, Robert?” The older man asked quietly.

“I know it will and damn my eyes for it, I just don't know what else to do!” Speedwagon cried, covering his face with his hands. The idea of leaving her filled his stomach with lead, but what other choice did he have? He could provide so little! She would probably say it didn't matter. It did matter though!

“You're avoiding another possibility, Robert. Stop wallowing in self-loathing and listen to me.” Speedwagon looked up through a haze of tears and found that Mr. Halford had moved to stand beside him, the mustachioed man's expression thoughtful. “My daughter cares deeply for you. I daresay, far more than she cared for Lambert. The union of Coverdale and Halford was one of convenience for both families, but my wife and I had also believed Lambert's intentions much more honorable than they were. Maybe we were blinded by pedigree.” He sighed. “You are...a strange exception, Robert.”

“Saints preserve me Master Halford, my heart is all a-pieces from her.” Speedwagon admitted. “Leaving her would be like tearing off my arm, but I've got no choice in the matter. She's a finely-bred lady and deserves a man that can improve her status, not one what makes the neighbors count their silverware after every time he comes callin’.” He continued with a dejected air, raking the hair back from his face in a fierce bid to regain his composure.

“Robert, do you really think that matters to her?” The elder Halford gave him a rueful smile. “All she seems to care for in life is her flowers and a certain rapscallion from Ogre Street.”

“Master Halford, I-”

Speedwagon's reply was cut short by the door of the study flying open and hitting the wall. Emma stood there, her skirts gathered up in one hand while she caught her breath. Robert was struck dumb by the magnificent picture she painted, all flushed from whatever mad dash she'd taken to arrive at that spot. “You cannot leave.” She ordered sharply. “Not until I have said my piece.”

“Lady Emma,” Robert began to protest, nervously glancing at her father.

“Just! Let me talk, Mr. Speedwagon.” Emma strode into the study, stalking back and forth in front of the two men like a caged tiger. “Mr. Speedwagon, did you not save my life in that alley?” Robert sputtered in confusion. “I could have very well died that evening and yet you stepped in and prevented such a tragedy from occurring.”

“Lady Emma, that's not-”

“You also handled young Coverdale for me, a feat that would not have been nearly so simple for anyone else in my family.” She talked over him, waving a finger. “You have been gracious and kind to me at every turn. You suffer from the admirable and woefully stupid condition of not reaching beyond your so-called place, convincing yourself that we should be nothing more than dear friends.” Emma placed her hands on her hips and glared up at the speechless blond. “I will have you know that I've been courting you for months, Mr. Speedwagon, and I refuse to let all the time we've spent strolling in my gardens go to waste!” She announced with authority. “That is why you cannot leave!”

“L…” The words died in his throat. She had been courting...so she wanted…? “Are you absolutely certain of this, Lady Emma?” He questioned her finally. “I am no fine gentleman. I won't be able to shower you with gifts for a good while. You would take me, even as low as I am now?”

“How can you say such things about yourself, Robert?” His name from her mouth had his body aflame. He had waited so long to hear her say it. “I would rather someone honest and kind than someone who can throw trinkets at me. I've had more than my fill of empty words and pointless flirtations. I want you, Robert.”

“Oh Lady Emma, you...stars, I could just about burst with joy right now!” Speedwagon sniffled, doing his best to dash the tears away. “This must be a dream. I've still got that damn ague, no doubt.” She hugged him tight enough to steal his breath and Speedwagon covered the crown of her head in kisses, too overwhelmed to think of doing anything else. “The best dream I've ever had.”

…

Their wedding was in the spring, to Robert's panic-stricken delight. And certainly, members of nearby estates could mewl and huff over the impropriety of it all, but Speedwagon tossed his care to the wind. His Lady Emma had chosen him, found him worthy instead of wanting. The sensation was so unfamiliar he could scarcely fathom it and he took every chance he got to display the affection he held for her.

She was no Ogre Street woman for all her ferocity and many were the times that Speedwagon reined himself in for her, terrified of accidentally going too far or making her uncomfortable.

Indeed, he was more of a blushing bride than she was on their wedding night, covering his red face with his hands while she straddled his hips. “Stars, I love you so much.” He sighed as she undid his suspenders and fought with the buttons on his placket. “You're an angel, you know that?”

His hands found their way to her hair after she settled into an age-old rhythm, carefully removing every pin that he could find. Robert stroked his fingers through her tangled tresses, luxuriating in the exquisite greed of being able to touch his wife, his wife. To think a man like him had a wife!

“I'm a husband now.” He murmured to her after they had finished and she had collapsed in his arms.

“That you are, Robert. My husband.” She mumbled against his chest.

“And you are my precious wife, Lady Emma.”

“You don't have to call me Lady-”

“Hush, I want to and I will.” Robert clenched his fist over his heart. “My dearest Lady Emma, I pledged myself to you before the clergy and all our guests earlier, swore that I would be the best husband a gel could ask for. But now...I swear to you, Lady Emma, you alone, that I will work as hard as I must and then some to become a husband you can be proud of! If...if it makes it easier for the time being, you can continue to be a Halford! I understand that the Speedwagon name is not exactly brag worthy and I-!” A messy kiss silenced his post-coitus rambling and Robert tensed.

“I am happy to be Mrs. Speedwagon, Robert.” She whispered when they parted, her eyes searching his own. “Truthfully, nothing would make me happier.” Robert’s eyes filled with tears and she wiped them away, smiling at him. “The news can't be that repulsive, can it?”

“No! ‘Course not, Lady Emma! I am quite...I am just a bit...er, flummoxed is all!” He floundered, cradling her to his chest once more and stroking her hair. “You're such an angel to me, my love.” He breathed when he was certain she was asleep, fondness making his voice catch. “An honest-to-stars angel.”

Live every moment, love every day, because if you don't, you might just throw your love away...

#robert e o speedwagon #jojo's bizarre adventure #pre-jojo #Because I am trash #robert e.o. speedwagon/ofc #alternative route #how does the jojo fandom even tag #godspeed speedwagon #canon-typical violence #gosh i love him #my stars #title taken from a speedwagon song of course #hey if you're reading the tags thanks for being here my broski I appreciate you #speedwagon is eternally done with rich folk #aside from jonathan of course #last names taken from band members #alternate universe #enjoy!

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magic-can · 7 years ago

Text

A Rant About the Skeleton Clique.

Before I say anything else I just wanna make this clear: this is NOT about Twenty One Pilots itself. They’re actually my favorite band. This is about their fanbase, the Skeleton Clique, which I am a part of (ugh.) Also, this doesn’t go for everyone, I’m talking about the fanbase in general (I’ve actually met some very sweet friends in the Clique!) Also, I’m gonna make a more in depth rant about this on my YT sometime soon-ish.

I’ve been seeing quite a few posts over the past few weeks talking about how bad the Clique is, I’ve even had quite a few conversations with my pal @sleeponsaturn about it. And you know what?

I agree.

This fanbase is horrible and the only reason I’m still in it is because I really love the band (and the 5% of nice people are 👍.) But why? Well hang on tight my lads because this is gonna be one long, anger filled post. (PS I mean full offence :>c)

First, the sheer amount of disrespect Ty and Josh receive. Crashing weddings, teleiophiles making disgusting comments about them, people acting like they’re perfect little angels with no flaws and screaming at people who dare criticize them! It’s extremely bratty. And have you considered that oh, I don’t know, Josh and Tyler are human beings just like the rest of us??? They shouldn’t have to fear their own fans every time they walk outside! They deserve privacy just like you and me! I feel so bad for the poor boys! Their families too, because they’re also stalked by you creeps!

Second of all, the drama. Oh the drama! Every little thing has to be taken to it’s extreme, like basic criticisms and simple comments. You see people screeching at casual fans telling them that they’re “fake” and being super pompous about it. You realize that this band was supposed to unite people and help them with their struggles right? Why are you bullying people over the tiniest things then? And you’ll see people acting like every. little. thing. is somehow “deep” and “poetic.” And yes, many people, including me, think the songs are indeed very deep and meaningful. But goodness, some of you are just way too out there.

And finally, (for now at least) Joshler. Look, I understand not every ship is romantic and I’m cool with that! But...there are people who do ship them romantically. You do realize that Ty has a wife right? Actually, you must’ve known that, BECAUSE YOU BRATS WON’T STOP ATTACKING HER ABOUT IT! Like yeesh! These are real people and not fictional characters! And stop fetishizing gay relationships for goodness sake! Think! Please, for the love of everything think!

I know this wasn’t too in depth but I just had to get it off my chest. Again, I’ll talk about it more later. Thanks for coming to my TED Talk. Thank you for talking the time to read this.

#magiccan speaks #twenty one pilots #top #tyler joseph #josh dun #tyler robert joseph #joshua william dun #the clique #skeleton clique #the skeleton clique #spooky jim #jenna joseph

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dachi-chan25 · 8 years ago

Photo

Going south AU!

“It’s our presence really necessary?” Since his travel to Dragonstone to meet his aunt, Jon decided he hated the south, far too warm for him. His clothes sticked to his skin on a completely disgusting way, his hair was even more at disarray than usual, and worst of all he couldn’t wear his everyday clothes. His cousin Sansa had made him a few breeches and tunics out of gauzy silk and fresh cotton, but he felt it would be a shame to ruin such fine garments with his sweat, so he was donning a black wool tunic, the thing was in a pitful state for Jon used it to train often but he would change as soon as the reached Sunspear.

Sansa laughed, Jon was especially grumpy since they reached the westerlands and the temperature kept on rising “If you wish to keep a good relationship with the Martells then yes. You’re the King cousin, at least until all the realms can reunite again and decide if they are to crown you and if the Red Keep and Iron Throne are to be repaired or if we wish to be independent like we were before the conquest, and this is the wedding of Princess Arianne, it would give the dornish a poor impression of you if you refused to come”

“I hate it”

She laughed again, and Jon cursed to all the gods and hells, she had no right to look so beautiful. That was of course the other reason why he was despairing in this hot wheater, the vision of his fair cousin in those light dresses that exposed far more skin than he was accostumed to made him feel a green boy anew.

Catching Jon’s sour expression she stopped laughing “I am sorry your Grace I shouldn’t be mocking you so. We should be arriving very soon, then you can take a bath and change into more appropiate clothes, I bet you’ll feel much better at once”

Jon groaned “Don’t call me your Grace, Sansa.”

“But I must, it’s the appropiate way to address you, in Winterfell among my siblings is not a problem if I call you Jon cousin, but here things are different and you know it”

Damn her and her political savvyness! Damn her cleverness! Damn her beautiful blue eyes and the curve of her delicate waist! But most of all damn the game of thrones people on the south so loved to take part in!

“I suppose I should call you Lady Sansa then” he wanted to make her mad, to have at least the smallest of hopes that she returned his feelings.

“You supposed correctly”

As unreadable and proper as always, he thought dejected.

Prince Doran himself recieved them among his children and brother. He was tired and his courtesies were surely more than lacking, not that it mattered much, for only Prince Doran and Princess Arianne seemed to look at him. Princes Quentyn, Trystane and the infamous Red Viper’s eyes were immediately drawn to his cousin. How could they not? Her bright blue eyes complemented perfectly the blue of her silky dress, the one with a big V of exposed flesh in the front that he tried desesperately not to stare at, her flowing red hair bright as burnished copper, and her lovely face. Every man’s dream.

Her manners however were perfect, she curtisied graciously and smiled. Prince Oberyn stepped forward and took her hand between his.

Jon frowned what was he–?

Oberyn bent and kissed her knuckles “You have truly grown into a beautiful woman Lady Sansa”

“I could never match your Lady Ellaria, but thank you my Prince”

He couldn’t believe this! He barely dared touch his cousin, she usually never permitend such close contact with anyone and he never wanted to make her un comfortable as much as he itched to hold her and kiss her soft pink lips… But he didn’t, the last time he had touched her so intimately was when he kissed her brow after retaking Winterfell, they were brother and sister back then, it wasn’t wrong, no matter if for a moment he had wanted to kiss her senseless, it wasn’t wrong, he was as brotherly as his budding feelings allowed him to be and that had to be enough (gods knew how disgusted he had been of himself back then) and yet, here she was, letting a stranger kiss her hand and call her beautiful without flinching.

He saw red when Prince Quentyn did the same, even more when he noticed the lad blush when his cousin smiled. For a moment he was back in the crypts of Winterfell (“I love Sansa as I loved her mother”) his fists tightened, but then he tried to relax, he couldn’t do this,Sansa would surely hate him if she saw him like this, the gods knew she had had enough man that desired her… He was disgusting, even if his intentions were to protect her, she didn’t needed nor wanted his protection.

When Prince Trystane turn came he had enough sense to look in other direction.

It was more than scandalous, one thing was touching a lady’s arm to escort her and another kiss her knuckles and bow to the level of her teats! But then Dorne was famous for such a relaxed behaviour.

Sansa, as most times, had been right he did feel better now that he bathed and changed. Though his uneasiness remained, his cousin was surely changing for supper, but he didn’t liked the idea of her being alone for long, dornish man were rumoured to be bold and if the innappropiate greetings Sansa got from Dorne’s princes were anything to to by he didn’t want to think what lesser lords and knights would be like, his cousin was far too corteous to stop them, and Lady Brienne would probably be stopped from taking any action that would offend their hosts, Jon cared little for it though, he didn’t meant to start any conflict with Dorne of course but he wouldn’t just stand by if any man dared disrespect his cousin.

He walked to Sansa’s door, guarded by Brienne and Podrick. “Has my cousin settled down?”

Brienne fixed him an icy stare, the knight woman had never quite liked him “Lady Stark is getting ready, Princess Arianne invited her to sup with her”

“Brienne, is that Jon outside?” came Sansa’s sweet voice from inside the chambers.

“Yes m'lady”

“Let him in please”

The tall knight stared him down and then stepped aside. Once he entered the chambers and took in the sight of Sansa sitting in front of the vanity’s mirror, hair unbound and wild around her naked shoulders a pout on her pink lips and a frown he ached to smooth with his hands, he almost fainted from the sudden heat prickling his skin, he averted his gaze at once and cleared his throat to announce his presence.

She turned around and sighed “Thank the gods you’re here Jon! I can’t tame my hair and I am in need of your assistance”

His throat felt parched suddenly, but he still approached her and took the brush from her hands “You should really consider taking a handmaid my Lady” he grabbed a handful of her bright copper locks and started brushing them softly, ignoring how much he to bury his face in them.

“Nonsense, I can manage just fine most of the time besides I have the sweetest cousin to help me the times I can’t”

Though her tone was light and teasing, he knew the real reason behind her lack of maids: she couldn’t bare the idea of a stanger touching her in such an intimate manner, one that reminded her so of her mother and the innocence of her childhood. It didn’t made it less of a torture for him nevertheless, he longed to not only help her dress her hair but of mussing it up in the throws of passion, of having that fire-kissed hair spilled over his furs, at the same time he felt guilty for such wanton and lustful thoughts when she showed nothing but trust in letting him brush her hair he dreaded to think what her reaction would be if she knew of his desires.

“I can’t think of a better suited task for a King” he replied.

Princess Arianne was already waiting for her in her solar. The table was richly served, a suckling roasted pig among plates full of colorful fruits and a bottle of what Sansa asumed was Dornish wine.

“I am greatful for your invitation Princess”

Arianne dissmised her courtesy with a movement of her hand “None of that formalities Lady Sansa come sit by me”

She did as instructed, not knowing exactly how to behave now that Pricess Arianne asked her to leave courtesies aside.

“Your hair has the most stunning color” Princess Arianne reached for a strand of her hair and twisted it gently in her fingers “You’ve already caused quite the impresión among the lords and knights of Dorne, why even my brother Quentyn couldn’t take his eyes off you, and believe me he is not the type to fawn over a pretty Lady”

“Thank you my Princess” she didn’t liked all this talk about her looks or the Prince’s opinion on her looks.

Arianne laughed “You needn’t look so weary my Lady, though I supposed I was a bit inconsiderate, I know you haven’t had the easiest of lives and rest assured I merely wished to compliment you”

She allowed herself to relax a little “Thank you my princess, you are also very beautiful, your hair specially it looks immaculate even in this heat, I could barely brush mine”

“It’s nothing really, I use some water and a couple of oils brought from Essos for that. I’ll have someone take a bottle to your chambers”

She smiled “You’re really kind my princess.”

The princess frowned and took a sip from her cup “You’re awfully proper my Lady, not that I think that is wrong but you look so young… You know my Lady, once my cousins told me something my uncle Oberyn advised them to do, they said he wanted for them to find pleasure wherever they could for there was very little of it in the world, to this dar I think is the wisest thing I’ve ever heard, don’t you agree?”

“I think he was very right about being little pleasure in the world, but personaly I could never dare to seek for it, I have too many responsabilities to my people to go out of my way looking for pleasure, besides the North is a very different place from Dorne”

“Fuck them” Arianne said hotly “All of them grand Lords seek their pleasure in brothels why should we not?”

“I could not say my princess” she said agreeing in her heart with Arienne’s rage and even took a sip from her wine. “Then you and your cousin never…?”

Sansa blushed “No! We never, you see we believed to be siblings and Jon is too honorable to think about me in such a way.”

“I see, I guess you must have had a very close relationship as siblings for you to believed that”

“No, quite the opposite really,we rarely spoke to each other, my mother did not like for me and my siblings to spend time with him, though I was the only one who pleased her in that aspect, we only grew closer after we met again”

Arianne smiled “See? Then what is the problem? Don’t you like him? Because I admit if I wasn’t getting married I would have definitely tried my luck with him, such handsome man, and strong from what I’ve heard.”

“I do like him” her face was very hot, but it wasn’t the wine nor the food she knew, it was this feelings she had never dared to voice “but I know he would never see me in that way, he is too honorable for that” and what a cruel joke from the gods that one of the things that made her love him so was also the one that would make her feelings remain unrequited.

“Honor” Arianne snorted “the worst mistress there ever was, dry as dust between the legs and as cold as the fucking wall in her affections.”

Sansa almost spit the wine from the laughter that overcame her.

“Good to see you smiling Lady Sansa” Arianne smirked “I wouldn’t be so sure about his disinterest though, his Grace seemed more than ready to punch my kin for kissing your hand”

Her eyes widened “I don’t know what to say, why would he do that?”

“Well maybe he doesn’t know that is the proper greeting here and can’t stand the thought of another man touching you”

Sansa considered it for a moment, Jon hadn’t had much time to adjust to being King and getting the fitting education for it, so it was a given he hadn’t known about it but jealousy? her heart skipped a bit, but no maybe that was not the case he never looked at her like Littlefinger, he barely looked at her at all and se preferred it that way for fear he would see through her and know about her feelings. But then she remembered what Theon told her about Jon forgiving him for what he did for her, not to mention the way Littlefinger had taunted about Jon being the same as him… Could it be?

The very next day she got her answer.

Jon had been in a very foul mood after his supper with the Red Viper tough he could not anything but warn Sansa to stay away from him and his lover. So she proposed to take a walk through the gardens the very next day, surely not even Jon could be grumpy with such a beauty surrounding him.

She had been wrong about it for now as Prince Quentyn explained the types of flowers and times of the year they bloomed to them Jon was frowning.

“You should really see Sunspear at summer, no better time of the year for the blood oranges and lemmons, I heard you were rather fond of lemmoncakes, and we have the very best of them in Dorne, just last year he had the biggest production in 5 years” Prince Quentyn enthusiastically listing figures and lots of different data about the crops and castle.

“Are you feeling well your Grace?” she asked him in a whisper when Prince Quentyn wasn’t looking.

“I’m as well as I can be my Lady”

But she noticed he was still looking at Prince Quentyn with displeasure, her conversation with Princess Arianne came unwillingly to her mind.

“This is my brother’s garden” he led them through an elegant arch adorned with orange an yellow tiles, on both sides of the cobblestone path beautiful rose bushes stood proudly filling the air with their sweet scent “There he is”

Prince Trystane was sitted on a bench, a book on his lap.

“Your roses are beautiful my Prince” she said in awe.

“I planted most of them for Lady Myrcella” his voice was tinted with sadness, but he shook it off maybe not wanting them to see him so vulnerable. Then he plucked a white rose from a nearby bush and extended it to her “It goes well with your dress m'lady, and I know Lady Myrcella would have liked to see you again so take it in her stead please”

Before she could thank the prince, Jon spoke.

“I don’t feel very well, I think I should return to the castle” he said with pained voice. “If you excuse me”

“Mayhaps your cousin hasn’t yet acostumed to dornish cuisine” Prince Quentyn suggested.

Prince Trystanne looked completely confused “No I don’t think that is so brother, Lady Sansa did we do anything to upset his grace? he looked angry rather that sick”

She felt her heart pounding wildly in her chest “I could not say, but maybe I should go and make sure he sees a Maester. If you excuse me my Princes” se curtisied and spoke properly but her mind wasn’t even into it, she just wanted to see Jon and maybe– Well she didn’t know if she would say anything to him yet, but maybe she would know when she saw him.

“Jon!”

Her voice made him stop, he had wanted to get as far as he could from the Princes of Dorne for fear, Sansa deserved happiness and lemmons and gallant gestures, she deserved someone who loved her freely even if he didn’t liked it, he was afraid because he had wanted to chase both Princes away from Sansa, he was afraid of her reaction would be if he did.

Damn Dorne! Seemed every man in the castle was after his cousin, he almost had punched the Red Viper when he suggested he and his llover would love to invite his cousin into their bed just to laugh it off and tease him about how in love he surely was with her to be so angry.

She catched up to him, chest heaving up and down, hair messy and unbound, eyes bright. He felt his loved her so much in that moment, may the gods forgive him.

“Are you truly un-well?” she aside her taking his hand as was her custom when she wanted him to really listen.

“Aye”

“Then you should see a Maester at once” she licked her lips and that was his undoing.

“No” his voice was breaking, he cupped her face in his hands expecting her to refuse his touch, instead she leaned into it. He looked her in the eyes willing her to understand “I don’t think a maester could help me.”

“Then who?“she asked breathing heavily.

“You” he breathed against her lips, closing at last the distance between them. Her lips sweeter and softer that he had ever dreamed, her kissing him back surpassed any hope and dream he had ever had, and now he vowed he wouldn’t let go, diplomacy and political matches be damned.

—————

Gods I am sorry for taking so long in writing this but my week has been pretty busy, I am working on the rest of the prompts I swear! So I actually don’t like the over-sexualization of dornish people cuz that is pretty racist in my humble opinion, but I love angsty Jon so here! Also I would love for Arianne and Sansa to be friends. Hope you liked it and keep sending prompts my way!!!

#Jonsa #Going South AU!#lol I´m the worst when it comes to innuendos #Travel to Dorne AU!#actuallyjonsa #repressing feelings all the way #Sansa is not even wearing really revealing stuff #Jon misunderstands dornish culture as flirting #get your head out of the gutter Snow #Quentyn was totally flirting with her tho #Elia and Oberyn tease poor Jon #Trystane is confused #Arianne and Sansa are super amused #my writing

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