#you can just see the 'HOW UNLADY LIKE' written on her face

[oiksuga]

come on and show me

prompt: smell of mint: “the strength of love and hate are one in the same.“ for @tooruluv | #tooruluv2kparty pairing: oikawa x f!reader tags: angst, misunderstandings, childhood neighbors to enemies (?) to ?, rated M for Makeout (so rated pg-13) warnings: underage alcohol consumption, ambiguous ending wc: ~4k synopsis: the one where you and oikawa grow up right next door of each other. complementary songs: unholy - hey violet // new girl - finneas // like real people do - hozier a/n: this fic had me biting my nails. i haven’t written in ages and to tackle something this long made me woozy. hope you enjoy it! (update: decided to turn it into a semi-angsty one-shot instead, maybe i’ll continue it as a side project, but for now, it is done!) no beta we die like men. i’ll proofread later.

You first meet Tooru Oikawa at the age of six. He had just moved to your street. The house right next door, no less. Quiet, shy, a bit of a crybaby. He clung to his mother for the entirety of that first meeting, a stuffed cartoon alien tightly clutched in his right hand. Your mothers, naturally, hit it off. You and Oikawa on the other hand, well that’s was a work in progress.

You tried to play nice, you really did. Your mother had told you about how it was just them two and his older sister. His father had died a little over a year before. So obviously you felt bad. You went over to his house on a few ocassions. His mother would welcome you with open arms each and every time. He was another story.

He had enough manners to come say hello, even inviting you up to his room to play with some toys (at the behest of his mother) but the minute she was out of sight, he’d go back to his own things, paying you no attention. Not that you particularly fancied playing with him, but if you walked this far to visit him, you would think he could acknowledge you for more than 2 minutes.

Tired of wasting valuable playtime sitting on the floor of his room, you take matters into your own hands and ask your brother for advice. He was a year older than you and Oikawa, so naturally you believed he held the secrets to the universe.

You approached him after dinner, and presented him with your problem.

“And I don’t know why he makes it so hard to be friends. And mom just keeps forcing me to visit him.” The huff of indignation only made him laugh.

“Well Y/n, you have to understand that he’s lonely. He is not very used to having others around him.”

“But if he is so lonely, wouldn’t hanging out with me make him feel better?”

“Remember how mom told you his dad is no longer with him?” you nod, “Well he has been living with other girls so much he probably wants to play with another boy. Guys don’t always want to play princesses you know?”

“So would he want to play with me if anothery boy was present?”

“Well, that is up to him, but it would interest him.”

“Then will you come with me tomorrow when I go over?”

“Sure”

And that is how you found yourself at his doorstep once again, brother in tow. His mother practically bounced off the walls seeing he had accompanied you. Did she also think he needed a boy to play with? She called Oikawa down, and you could hear some grumbling from his end. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, a confused looked ag the sight of two people instead of one.

Your brother went up to him first.

“Hey, uh Tooru right?” First name basis already?“I’m Y/n’s older brother. Well I just wanted to see if you wanted to hang out with me and a couple of my friends today?”

Huh, so that was his plan. Your brother is the unofficial leader of his group of friends, comprised of various kids in the neighbourhood. Some his age, some more around yours. They like to cause trouble and torment other kids at times. Your mothers were close too. Unfortunately for you, none of them had any sisters your age. So everytime you were supposed to play with them, you were miserable.

After that first meeting, your brother and Oikawa had become quite the pair. He took him “under his wing” (as he liked to call it) and formally inducted him to his squad. They were over the moon to have someone new to hang out with (read corrupt). You, on the other hand, could not hate it more. Now that those two were buddies, Oikawa was always present in your home. Anywhere you looked he was there. And now that he had other people to be with, he came out of his shell. Gone was that snotty kid with the alien plush, now replaced with a self-absorbed bastard you wanted no relation to. Too bad he never took the hint. It got worse once you both turned 14.

“You know Y/n, I’ve gotten so many confession letter this week. But oddly enough, I have not gotten one from you. You need to hurry up before one of these girls wins your spot as my girlfriend.”

“Well good thing I have enough smarts to never feel the need to do something like that.”

“Ouch Y/n you are killing me over here. Whatever, I’ll just look for it in your room when you are gone.”

“What the- how are you going to do that? You know what don’t tell me. Just please get out.”

“Or you are gonna do what? Call your brother to-“

He was interrupted by the arrival of yet another nuisance in your room.

“Hey Oikawa, please leave the poor girl alone. Stop being such a pain”

Enter Hajime Iwaizumi. Ah Iwaizumi. The other half of the obnoxious duo. Not that you don’t like him. No, quite the opposite. He keeps Oikawa tame and off your hair, something which you are deeply grateful for. But he also has his habits of annoying the crap out of you. All of your brother’s friends do. But you like to think that deep down they’d do anything for you.

“Not now Iwa-chan, Y/n is about to confess her secret feelings for me.” He says, clearly aware of the growing irritation on his friend’s face.

“Don’t make me pull you by your hair again. We are going to be late for the movie.” He emphasized his threat by rolling up sleeves, a tell-tale sign he was about to beat the crap out of Oikawa.

“Alright alright Iwa-chan you are such a hard ass.” He now turns to you, taking a few steps forward and stands right in front of you. “I’ll see you later, m’lady.” With that nickname, he took your right hand and kissed your knuckles. You could only srunch up your face. Gross, how many of those shows are he watching.

You heard the downstairs door shut and with that, it was silent again.

Finally, peace.

Years went by, and Oikawa’s popularity only skyrocketed. Everyone around him found him attractive, so naturally they’d hang on to him. He was also really good in volleyball, so everyone would go to see him play. Your brother and him remained close friends. Hosting parties together, going on weekend long trips with all their friends. All things you were forbidden from participating in because, as your brother said, this is not the crowd you want to be with. Your parents still let you host your own events, but nothing of that magnitude.

Soon enough, years went by, and you began your senior year of high school. This was going to be your years. With your brother now gone, having graduated and gone off to college, it’s your turn to be the life of the party. No more “you can’t be there.” Now all eyes will be on you. And what a better way to make your debut than with a party. While classes didn’t start until a week later, it was your brother’s tradition to take over your parent’s beach house for a weekend and hold a last big major bash before the semester began.

Invitations were sent, music was chosen and all that was left to do was tidy up the place. You brought some of your friends with you to help you get the place ready before the chaos began. Sweeped everything, locked away valuables, and got them settled in two of the rooms so they could sleep comfortably after. As you were outside stocking up the bar area, you heard a collection of voices coming from the living room. It’s too early, why are there people coming already? As you walk back in, you are greeted with Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and their two friends, who were also part of your brother’s group, Hanamaki and Matsukawa, all too sitting too comfortably in your couch.

“I hope you guys know this is a respectable place.” You crossed your arms at the sight of them getting too comfortable in your couches. Feet up on coffee table like savages.

Oikawa spoke first. “Relax darling,” God you hated that nickname, “You do know we have been here more times than you right? The parties that have happened in this place oh man.” You felt indignated at his attempt to one up you in your own home.

“Well if I recall correctly, this is still my parentms place, so I can have you and your friends kicked if I wanted to.”

At that, the other three butted in, a chorus of “Oikawa what the hell man,” and the sound of Iwaizumi hitting the back of his head.

“Okay fine. I’m sorry Y/n that you are so jealous of me and my party animal ways.”

“God you are exhausting. But anyways, I am glad you guys are here because I need help hanging some lights outside. Iwa and Mattsun, could you pretty please come with me to hang these?”

You led them outside, before sticking your head back in, directing your gaze to the two remaining guys camping in your couch.

“And don’t think I have forgotten about you two. Kiyoko needs some help putting more stuff together, and the rest of the girls went out to order food, so please make yourselves useful and go.”

You play some music on the speakers, and get to work.

Soon enough, the party was in full swing. You swam through the sea of bodies trying to locate the kitchen. The sheer number of people was disorienting. But to your luck, the swaying crowd somehow guided you to your destination, slightly sticky from stranger’s sweat, but otherwise unscathed. You make way to the counter and try and lift yourself onto it. The drinks in your system making in a harder task than usual. You are halfway through climbing in a more unlady-like manner, when a voice calls out for you.

“Uh Y/n, need some help?”

You turn around to see Oikawa. His face was flushed, you assumed it was from whatever was in the plastic cup in his hand. Hair disheveled, forehead shiny from his sweat. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway, and the lighting made his chain glint at an angle. If he wasn’t Oikawa, you’d admit he was attractive.

You become aware of your compromising position and stop your attempts of getting on the counter. The suddent movements make you wobbly, and you grab onto the counter to keep stable. You notice him walking over to you, and motion for him to stop.

“I don’t need your help. Just get me a water bottle from the fridge please.”

He obliges your request and gets some water for you, going so far as to opening the bottle, and hands it you. You are silently grateful, as you don’t think you have the coordination to do it yourself. As you are drinking, feeling the relief of the coolness down your throat, you notice he’s staring at you. This felt odd, there was something about the way he looked at you. You felt too vulnerable. It was getting awkward.

“So, you enjoying the party? I saw you doing a shots competition outside earlier. Did you win, Mr. Party Animal?” You made sure to emphasize the mock of his nickname.

He huffs indignantly. “Well Y/n-chan, cannot believe you doubt my abilities. If you must know, I did in fact win, with an impressive 5 shots down my system. And look at me, cool as a cucumber.”

You look at him for a second, brows furrowed, and then burst out laughing. “‘Cool as a cucumber’? God you are lame.”

All he can do is stare at you. You have never laughed like that. It’s always measured, not too loud, not too long. This is different. He likes different.

When you stop, you notice he is staring again. You feel small. As if you are under a million spotlights, all pointed at you. You are about to ask if he was okay, but seems like someone beat you to it.

“Hey Tooru~ I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Are you okay?” She notices the position you are in, and slightly grimaces, “Tooru who is this.”

He blinks, a bit too hard, and turns to face her. “Hey Sara, this is Y/n,” he motions to you, “you know, the one who organized this party.”

Sara. You know who she is. And she definitely knows you. You two met at the last student council election, a few months back. When you found out you were running agaisnt each other. She was the current president, and you held a lower position as secretary, so running for president felt like a giant leap. Though it seems that after a month of campaigning, debates, and a tiresome election you had won. A very exciting moment, and what felt as a good culmination to your high school career. You and Sara had an extensive talk about it over coffee, in which she assured no ill feelings towards you.

By no means were you guys best friends, but you also like to think you were not enemies.

“Oh Y/n and I know each other. Great to see you again, and amazing party, you really know how to entertain.” Well that answers that, she doesn’t hate you. Great. “Do you mind if I borrow Tooru over here? There are some things I need to talk to him about.”

“No problem at all, glad you are having fun.” You wave goodbye and with that they were gone. You were alone.

Now feeling more sobered up, you decide to go back to the masses. Your newfound energy leading you to the makeshit dancefloor, letting loose to Makk’s karaoke rendition of Pursuit of Happiness. What a movie moment. Everything letting loose in a beach house living room.

The thing that wasn’t a movie moment though? How much you needed to pee. How come no one ever informs you of the effects alcohol has on your bladder?

Once again, you venture through the bodies to find the bathroom. There was no line, which should have been a sign. But you made no thought of it, until you swung the door open and found, in the most cliche moment ever, the ever-present Tooru Oikawa passionately making out with Sara. That sobers you right up.

If they noticed, you wouldn’t know, because you bolt out immediately and go straight to your room. You go to the bathroom there, and as you are washing your hands, you stare at yourself in the mirror. Even though you only saw them for a second, the image of those two making out was burned in your brain.

There was something about the way he held her, pressed to the sink counter, hands on her waist, that made you feel something inside. You chalked it up to general lust and splashed cold water on your face, trying to stop whatever your brain was imagining. You left the bathroom, ready to take a break in bed.

That was, until the man in question made his appearance in your room.

“You know there are laws against trespassing right? So I don’t know what you are doing here but-“

“I came to apologize.”

Well that’s a first.

“Apologize for what exactly. You haven’t been an ass the entire night, if anything, I should congratulate you for that.” You say, tone more snarky than you intended. What were you even pissed about.

“Well I think you and I both know what you walked into. And I just wanted you to know that is not who I am, nor how I behave.”

Oh

“Well let me be the first to tell you that I don’t care who you suck face with, as long as it doesn’t happen in my presence.” What was up with you right now.

“What if it was with you? Would you care then?” He took a step towards you. You took one back.

“What are you talking about.” Why did he keep walking towards you. This room cannot be that big.

“I think you know exactly what I mean,” Your back was met by the wall at the end of the room, and Oikawa now stood in front on you, “Darling.”

Something about the way he looked at you, combined with the alcohol in your system and the muffled music you could hear from downstairs made your insides feel on fire. I must be going crazy, you thought.

Because as soon as that god-awful nickname left his lips, you pulled him down onto yours.

“As your big brother, it is my duty to protect you from all the evil things that are out there. You know that right?” 

“That includes Oikawa right? He is such a meanie. I don’t know why you even hang out with him.” 

“Well, Tooru is different. He means well, he just doesn’t express it how you are used to. Boys his age usually behave like that. But he’ll grow out of it. You’ll learn that eventually.” 

“Well I don’t care. He’s mean and I hate him. I don’t care if he changes. I’ll still hate him.”

“Haha. Well I’m glad. Wouldn’t want you messing around with someone like him anyways.”  

Curse the heavens. There was no denying it. Tooru Oikawa was an amazing kisser.

He knew exactly what he was doing. Grazing his tongue to yours every now and then. His hands, god his hands, his right one was holding his chin, while his left one slid up and down your waist. 

Curse his perfection. This cannot be that snotty kid from all those years ago. This is a whole different person. Yes that’s it. This is not Tooru Oikawa. Because Tooru Oikawa is not capable of making you feel these things. 

Like any normal person, you have to breathe, so you break the kiss. He has the audacity to whine at that. You look of to your side, because something tells you that if you look at him right now, lips swollen and pupils wide, who knows what’ll happen next.

He doesn’t like any of it. 

He takes this opportunity to move his mouth south, landing on the flesh of your neck. He seems to have caught you offguard, if the sound you make at his action is anything to go by. He works his magic in the area. Biting. Kissing. Sucking. Anything that’ll draw out more of those noises. And you wish he’d stay there for eternity. 

But you are you. A little selfish. And always wanting more more more. So you take him by his shirt and lead the two of you onto the bed, gently sitting him down and taking a seat directly on his lap. Now this is more. 

But this also felt wrong. On so many levels. You don’t think you could ever look at your parents again if you have sex on their bed. But the desecration of their sleeping place is a small price to pay for the enormous pleasure you are sure he would bring you. Because if there’s one thing Oikawa Tooru believes in, is doing his best. 

And he sure as hell will do his very best with you. 

“Well well darling, look who is eager now.” He spoke with that sickeningly sweet tone he always uses. But there is something else behind it. You can’t really pinpoint it, but before you could ponder on that, he got a hold of your hips and started to drag you along his length. 

Well if you are off to hell, might as well enjoy the ride. 

You decided to be bold and unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, sliding it off his shoulders and onto the floor. You could sit here and wax poetic about how intimacy goes beyond physical appearance and his muscles are not important, but you are no philosopher. So you’ll say it. He’s hot. You knew the guy was ripped, having been witness to the arduous workouts he and your brother did over the summer, but this was something else. 

Your brother. Ha. Imagine if he could see you right now. Actually don’t. That’s weird. But he would be dissapointed wouldn’t he. All those years being so put off by the mere presence of Tooru Oikawa and now you are sitting atop him, like some sort of worship. Oh the hypocrisy. 

No you can’t think of him right now. No get out of there. 

“Something the matter, princess?” Ah again with the nicknames. “I think you’ve had enough fun up here. Maybe it’s my turn to be on top don’t you think?” 

You nodded. Because that is all you could muster. You feared that if you opened your mouth, all of your thoughts would slip out. 

He rolled you to the side, off of him and onto the mattress. He stood up and groaned and god the way that made you feel. He kneeled on the soft surface, and leaned down to face you. Because he is the epitome of cliche, though, he makes sure to flash you the biggest smile you have ever seen. It looks different. It looks genuine. That’s new, a bit exciting even. 

And before you know it, he goes back to work on your neck. He used his knee to put a slight pressure between your legs. You cannot keep your thoughts straight for long, because the next thing that comes out of your mouth is a moan of his name.

You’ve never used that tone with his name. He, of course, loves it. 

“You cannot imagine how many times I have imagined of doing this.” While you are on your way to what could be a very mind-blowing orgasm, and you are incapable of coherent sentences, your hearing is very much okay. But there is no way you heard what you just heard. Because what the fuck.

“Stop.” It’s low, a bit above a whisper. He couldn’t hear you, you conclude, so he keeps at it for a bit, but when he feels the push of your hands on his chest, he pulls away immediately. 

“A-are you okay? Did I hurt you? Do you want to stop this?” For someone with the charm of a western hero he sure is insecure. 

“What did you mean by that? What do you mean by ‘I imagined of doing this’?” Well of course you know what he meant. But what did that mean for you two? This isn’t something that should be happening. And you tell him just that. “This is not something we should even be doing.” Crap. 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

You might not be very fond of him, but you know him. So you know he is probably getting too much inside his head right now, so really you should have seen his next words coming. 

Except this is all new and you haven’t been able to see any of this coming. 

“You know what, you are right. I am sorry. I think we should leave. Actually, this is your room, so I’ll go.” You have to be imagining things, because there is no way he sounds hurt over this. Is there? 

You want to ask if there’s a genuine chance he meant what he said. You really do. But you are scared of his answer. All your life he has been the kid you cannot stand, your brother’s annoying friend. But this changes everything. You have no feelings for him, that you know. But apparently there is chance he does. So what are you doing about that. 

Before you can ask, you hear the door shut. In a flash, he is gone. How befitting.

And like that, once again, you are left alone. All you can hear is the boom of the speakers. 

Your lifelong long was to have Tooru Oikawa out of your life. Now that you have succeeded, why do you not feel at peace. 

fin.

#um hi there #i have not written in ages jesus #rip my ao3 fics i feel sad for not finishing them #haha i need help #tooruluv2kparty #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #tooru oikawa #oikawa x y/n #tooru oikawa x reader #oikawa x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

[cummingforkylo]

The Prince Of Alderaan Chapter II

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

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

Rating: Explicit...eventually

Word Count: 5,309

Warning: None as of now

Pairing: Kylo Ren x reader

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

Dearest Lords and Ladies of London,

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

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

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

Yours most sincerely,

Lady Whistledown

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

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

“Oh, yes, not all of it was-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

*

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not yet,” She said.

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

***

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Your Grace,” You mimicked your mother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Perhaps I could sense yours.” He said.

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

“I think you might have been.”

“I was not.”

“Says who?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No?” He confirmed, sounding surprised.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And you…”

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

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

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

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

#kylo ren #kylo ren x you #kylo ren x reader #kylo ren fanfiction #kylo ren reader insert #ben solo #kylo ren au #regency!kylo #fanfic #writing #kylo ren smut #fanfic: tpoa

[lily-mj-fae]

Elain and Lucien and the Bond

So I have to comment on this again. I find myself frustrated. A lot of people only look at it through the skewed lenses of Feyre, Rhys, and all of the other mated pairs SJM has written. So before I begin let me preface this by saying a few things: 1) I do not hate Elucien. I am not against it becoming canon. I think there’s potential, but they have a long way to go. 2) While I am going to talk about Lucien in what I think might be perceived as a negative light, I do not hate him. I do not dislike him. I rather like him. But because so many people like him (and so many dislike/don’t care about Elain) they don’t look at how she might be perceiving things. 

So Let’s start with something that I think is important.

Elain is often criticized for not rejecting the bond. People won’t accept that there’s a possibility that she doesn’t know there might be more to it than the not one, but two times we see in canon (and possibly more if Feyre and her nosiness is any indication). I think there are two problems here.

Elain not knowing is very fitting for her at this time. While she’s taken steps to learn about and begin embracing Fae life, it’s very clear she’s still adjusting. And that’s OKAY. She has eternity more or less to figure shit out. (I also think it would have been okay for it to take Nesta longer to deal with her shit, even if i understand the intervention was for her own good). But because of her ended engagement (in which her fiance threw the bond in her face and told her she belonged to Lucien because of it) and her budding feelings for Azriel (Because whether you like it or not that’s there. And it’s okay), she likely doesn’t want to even think about the mating bond. Let alone learn more about it. She’s rejected the bond twice at least. And I think that it’s reasonable to her character to believe that’s that. Especially with keeping him at an arm’s length. She’s making no moves to further anything between them. That alone sounds like someone who isn’t interested. To his indirect actions, her indirect actions are equal.

Why is she the one responsible for handing the whole thing? Lucien is the one from the culture with mating bonds. He hasn’t asked her for anything. They expect Elain to be forthright with him about the bond, but not him with her? He could be straight forward with her. He could ask her; whether it be to give him an answer (probably not the ideal) or to at least spend time together and get to know each other. But he has just as much a responsibility to be direct with her, if he wants direct from her. 

Now. let’s talk about some of the other things.

I think that while Lucien might be kind of giving her space while also trying to build something, it’s important to note that from her perspective some of his actions might not come across that way. And while we as readers (and Elain probably does too) understand that Lucien is not doing anything maliciously, or with ill intent, she might feel like he is trying too hard. 

Her actions around him show she is uncomfortable. (I don’t care if the word uncomfortable hasn’t been used. Her actions show it). She keeps her distant. Only engages in polite conversation. And is eager for excuses to leave his company. Yet he still comes around, still asks for her company (which going back to how she was raised, she’s not likely to reject because it would be rude), and is giving her gifts while she clearly did not feel close enough to reciprocate. Whether you agree or not, it is possible that from her perspective he is giving her unwanted affection and ignoring what she likely thinks are clear signs of disinterest.

Between those things and the fact that she doesn’t return the gifts, people seem to think she’s leading him on. But she doesn’t use the gifts. And again, looking at how she was raised, it could be considered rude/unlady like to reject a gift. So she doesn’t. The only reason she didn’t keep Az’s was because he rejected her and told her them almost kissing was a mistake. But we know that she’s uncomfortable by the gifts. The “barely gave a thanks” draws to mind the image of someone who was given a gift they’re not a fan so they give that cringe/smile and say thanks in that tone that tries to sound happy but isn’t. 

Now maybe Elain isn’t being clear enough. Maybe Lucien isn’t noticing that. Maybe he is, but he’s holding on to hope to break through just enough that they can get to know one another.

My point here is that Elain’s perspective is equally important here. And that there are many things at play with these two. Yes, they’re going on two years of this nonsense. But it is not wholly to blame on Elain. They both play a part in it.

#elain archeron #i'm not tagging ship #or him #because i don't want this to come off as anti either #it's just something i wanted to get out there

[sweet-evie]

A Fantasy AU (Broken) WIP Written Months Ago Involving Marianne, Charles, & Child Lelouch -- Part of the Prologue

Marianne smirked at the thought of how unbecoming her idea of fun was. The other ladies of such an austere Court would have branded this inappropriate and ‘unlady-like’. Not that any one of them would have the guts to say that to her face. As Consort to one of the most powerful men in the world, she didn’t have the time to concern herself with the trivial and snooty opinions of the aristocrats.

Besides, there wasn’t anything wrong about personally supervising your son’s education on the way of the sword. She would have taken over his instruction herself. But alas, certain traditions had to be followed and respected -- even if she found them completely ridiculous.

Sighing wistfully, the Queen Consort carefully arranged the folds of her tailored gown, sitting in the shade of a canopy while one of her handmaidens stood behind. She kept a sharp ear on the clacking of clashing wood, her son’s grunts and impassioned yells, and the careful shuffling of feet on dirt.

“That’s it. Good. Don’t lunge yet. Step lighter.” Lord Andreas Darlton side-stepped a clumsy slash. The Prince yelped as he fell on his knees, wooden sword still tightly grasped in his hand as the shield tumbled to the dust. “Keep your shield up, Your Highness. You don’t-- Agh!”

Lord Darlton stumbled backwards, rubbing his eyes to rid them of sand. A handful thrown on his face by one determined and relentless child. Was the Prince this desperate for victory that he’d purposely discard fairness and honor? Marianne did her best to suppress a quiet laugh and an amused smile, watching her son as he moved on to snagging his chance. He whacked the Master of Arms on the elbows, the sides, and the knees.

“Your Highness, such unscrupulous tactics are below you.” Darlton coughed, gratefully accepting the damp towel one of the squires rushed to give him. He wiped his face and caught a glimpse of the Crown Prince’s chastised expression, wooden sword hidden behind his back as he hung his head. “A man fights with honor, extending respect even to his enemies--”

“I reckon that’s enough sword practice for today, Lord Darlton.” The Queen Consort of Britannia brushed invisible dust from her dress as she approached them and her distraught son.

“As you command, Your Majesty.”

Without words of protest, he acknowledged the Queen’s command once more with a respectful bow, extending the same gesture to the Crown Prince as well. Mother and son watched the lord leave with his squires and his aide-de camp, and Marianne waited until he was well out of earshot to address the young Prince, who in this stretch of time, gathered up his wooden weapons and put them away.

“Am I in trouble?” Lelouch asked, a tiny hint of meekness hidden in his voice, overshadowed by the obvious pride in his person.

Marianne raised an eyebrow. “No, of course not, my Prince. What compels you to think so?”

To his own credit, the boy did his best to suppress the surprise. He wasn’t going to be sentenced to stay in his room all day? “I cheated.”

A boy of eight. He still had so much to learn, but she was glad that he was on the right path. He thinks practically too, prioritizing self-preservation over tacky notions of ‘honor’ in a battlefield. Lelouch vi Britannia with his dust-stained face and grime-covered clothes. A ruler-in-training, she liked to call him in the privacy of her own mind.

“That wasn’t cheating, my love. You were smart.” Crouching just enough to be at his level, she brushed some dirt from his cheek -- leaving a streak of fair skin on-show. “I do not encourage you to train for ceremonial or traditional purposes. You’re fighting to survive and to protect yourself. You win, you live. You lose, you die. Life or death. You would rather live, wouldn’t you?”

The boy nodded, and Marianne flashed one of her charming smiles, ruffling the head of raven hair affectionately.

“Marianne.”

All turned to the stairs just in time to see His Majesty descend -- Bismarck Waldstein, an ever constant presence beside him. The Queen’s handmaidens, the passing servants, and the Crown Prince himself dropped into one knee in honor of the ruler who had recently taken control of the entire continent. Not a King. But, Emperor Charles. Lelouch mumbled this under his breath, wrapping his head around the fact that it was a title he would one day inherit.

“Oh hello darling.” Marianne crooned, disregarding formal Court etiquette. Emperor he may be, he was her husband first.

“A word.”

Two words coupled with a casual wave of the hand, dismissing those present in the vicinity. The servants scurried off to continue their tasks, the Queen’s handmaiden curtsied and made herself scarce. Lelouch looked at his mother with wide purple eyes, full of questions and unending curiosity. Still, she knew that whatever Charles was about to say was not meant for their son to hear. So she told him to go and find his sister and perhaps even a few of his cousins. She knew he wanted to stay, but her boy knew better than to ask questions he wouldn’t get answers to. Still a little miffed, he reluctantly received the casual pat on the shoulder from Charles zi Britannia himself, and accepted Bismarck Waldstein ushering him away from his mother’s and father’s rendezvous.

Marianne eyed her husband, took silent note of how broad his shoulders appeared underneath that tailored and regal suit. He was rather attractive, especially if he chose to do away with that atrocious powdered wig. How he could stand them, she would never understand.

She was still busy ogling him when his question cut through her almost inappropriate thoughts. “His studies and training are faring well, I presume?”

Oh, right… Their son. She nodded once to confirm and took his arm to lead him into the opposite direction. The training arena was built above one of the palace’s largest gardens. When she first came here, Marianne often wondered what the purpose was. Was there any political gain to be had for noble ladies to gawk at squires and knights sparring and training? Perhaps there was, now that she thought about it.

But this wasn’t why she opted to converse with her husband there. The orchard and the greenery offered lovely sights to stare at, and meant less hiding spots for any nosy eavesdroppers. Marianne held her skirts gingerly as they descended the steps.

“He can think on his feet. What he lacks in gifted swordsmanship, he makes up for with cunning.” Marianne smirked, nudging Charles’ side. “He is my son, after all, is he not?”

Charles allowed the tiniest quirk at the corner of his mouth as he grunted his agreement. “For his scholarly education?”

“Top marks from his tutors, as expected.” Marianne crooned as they entered the walkway between a row of flowerbeds. “But we both know you didn’t seek me out here, of all places, to talk about Lelouch’s brilliance.”

As she busied herself with admiring the loveliness of the flora and the fauna, she missed the ephemeral amusement in Charles’ face. Marianne always had confidence in her own intellect and potential, and it shone through in the simplest of interactions with her. He had married a captivating woman, and even his father had little to no objections about their marriage nine years ago.

Nevertheless, here and now, she was right. As much as he cared about his children’s education and upbringing, there were matters which he placed greater value on. The subject of the Sword of Akasha was one matter.

“I want to halt the progress of finding the lost key.”

The statement was followed by a cautious silence; one Marianne maintained whenever she processed thoughts -- turning ideas over and over again inside her head.

“What brought this on, Charles?”

“We don’t have the resources to spare when Française and the Prussian empire have come together to subdue Britannian influence.”

“So why stop the search for the key and the other artifacts?”]

------

This AU was one of my favorites. For some reason, the plot I constructed just refused to cooperate, and it all devolved into ONE HUGE MESS. Like it always does XD

#code geass #marianne lamperouge #charles zi britannia #fanfiction #alternate universe #lelouch vi britannia #fantasy au #wbad blog #wbad fanfiction #wip #i posted it here because i think it's genuinely good #if only the plot worked haha

[themulberrytree]

character sheet.

full name: Shallan Davar pronunciation: Sha-Lahn Dah-var (fuck IPA i am not doing that shit again)

nicknames: strong one (by hoid), love, dear (by adolin), storming woman (mostly by kaladin)

height: 5′6″ age: 19/20 (rosharan years) / 21-22 (earth years)   zodiac: gemini (donut ask me when her bday is i donut have a date yet) languages: (spoken/written): veden (native), alethi, azish, selay (moderate skill in speaking only) thaylen (reading/writing only).

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair colour: rich, deep red, only red. eye colour: bright blue skin tone: shallan is very fair, though she spends as much time in the sun as she can, so her face is dusted with freckles. body type: slim and slender. unlike the curvaceous body type often seen on alethi women, shallan is much smaller both in figure and stature. she could be mistaken for delicate, at first glance. as she spends more time training with her blade, her body becomes much more defined and muscular, but she will never achieve any kind of bulky muscles, she simply does not have the body type.

accent: her natural veder accent would be considered low, given shallan’s isolation out in the countryside. she can speak in a more posh (re: acceptable) accent, but she has little reason to do so. dominant hand: right posture: shallan has the posture of a perfect vorin lady, back straight and shoulders back at all times. when sitting, her freehand always covers her safehand, placed delicately in her lap unless she is sketching. when walking, her hands are clasped in front of her. she is rarely animated in her posture when speaking, and depending on her company, she works hard to blend in. when alone, shallan may slouch when studying, or do her work in a very unlady like fashion on her bed. if she trusts her present company, they may witness this lapse in acceptable posture, but only if she trusts them.

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth: jah kaved hometown: some hick town in the middle of the countryside. birth weight / height: 6 pounds, 3 ounces. 18 inches. manner of birth: natural first words: pa siblings: (all elder, all brothers) helaran, balat, twins: wikim and jushu parents: lin davar, and an unnamed mother, malise davar (step mother), all deceased. parental involvement: shallan remembers a somewhat happy childhood (although the likelihood of that being the case is up for debate). her mother taught her how to draw, and was in charge of shallan’s education in the early years. much of her early years have been forgotten due to the trauma of shallan’s witnessing (see: committing) her mother’s murder. she did not speak at all for half a year afterwards. from that point on, her father became overbearing, and with each year he was less of the man shallan had first known. he was violent towards two of her brothers and the servants, often scaring away tutors, so shallan’s education in those critical years was sporadic at best. her father demanded complete obedience, and any deviation on her part meant that a servant got beaten in her place. in order to spare them and placate her father, shallan worked hard to draw little attention to herself and obey. it was her father who also chose her devotary (purity) rather than her having the opportunity to choose for herself.

ADULT LIFE

occupation: she is the ward of jasnah kholin, having managed to convince the woman she was worthy of wardship at seventeen. after being taken in, shallan begins her education in scholarship, fine tuning her skills in making logic based arguments, study, and critical thinking.

on the shattered plains, she secures work with highprince sebarial as a clerk while maintaining the work in finding urithiru that she started with jasnah, and working to infiltrate the secret group known as the ghostbloods.

she latter assumes a more public role as a knight radiant, the first of the order of lightweavers in centuries. while her status as a radiant is known, she works very hard to keep her work covert. she deals in spywork and information, and uses her lightweaving to form disguises for herself and associates. she has also used her abilities to battle unmade, work oathgates, and help run reconnaissance in kholinar.

as highprincess, her duties would include helping manage affairs of the realm and detecting intrigue to better aid her husband.

close friends: lmafo what are those????? jk, her brothers, later adolin, renarin, kaladin, jasnah (sort of, more teacher/student) wit/hoid (when he’s around). relationship status: verse dependent, married to adolin kholin in canon financial status: her family is destitute, and shallan herself has little experience in personally handling money. that being said, she knows how to balance finances and plan expenses. when working for sebarial, she manages to secure a comfortable pay from him, her later marriage secures her financial security, though her status as a radiant could’ve done that too. driver’s license: she could probably drive, but would be terrible at it due to the fact that she’d keep lookin out the window. she has little experience on horseback, but can manage. criminal record: technically none yet, having managed to get away with murder twice. she had also stolen successfully from jasnah kholin.  

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation: bisexual romantic orientation: biromantic, could be polyromantic preferred emotional role: submissive (someone pls force her to accept comfort i am beggin) | dominant |  switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role: submissive |  dominant  |  switch  |  sex repulsed | libido: she’s basically DTF anytime and anywhere, and yes, i wish i were kidding, but she’s just horny on main. turn ons: she’s into more traditional kinds of attractiveness, people who look put together. but she really enjoys some kind of hint at wildness, hair that won’t quite stay, a kind of subtle ruggedness. post-battle disheveledness  is HOT. allow her to talk about her studies, things she’s working on or wanting to start, she’ll love that. don’t be afraid to talk about your own interests, she goes off on her own a lot, so she’ll want someone with their own hobbies too. be kind, be willing to grow and change and share. be there if she asks. laugh at her absolutely fucking awful jokes. on the more physical side, not being afraid to show affection in public. that spot on the neck below the ear? yeah, kiss it. leave a mark. kiss the inside of her wrist. do not be afraid to be rough with her, she’s not easily hurt and she doesn’t always like being treated like a china doll. go to town. BUT you must also be good at taking your time. tenderness is a good trait to have in every day life, but if you can translate that into the intimacy of the bedroom, give her a slow buildup, ur golden. turn offs: unnecessary rudeness, lack of independence. anyone who treats her like she needs protecting, or thinks she needs to confine herself in some way, for any amount of time. never laughing at her terrible jokes, or indulging her seemingly random curiosities. being a skybreaker. love language: physical touch is primary, but quality time and words of affirmation are also great. relationship tendencies: shallan has a tendency to fall fast. even when she’s telling herself to be careful and take things slow, it’s easy to pull her in and have her grow an attachment on a superficial level fairly early. she’s good about letting the other person lean on her for support, but she’s not so great when it comes to sharing anything deep about herself. she has a habit of trying to mold herself into what she thinks the other person would like, and clinging to that. if confused she might play around with feelings, though she’s not fully aware she’s doing it. she’s big on positive reinforcement, she’ll let you know if she enjoys your company, and when she’s invested in the relationship, she’ll look for fun ways to spend time with that person. she might attempt to appear more serious and mature than she is, but her silliness will slip out. when she loves though, she loves completely, and a distracted heart is settled once she makes a decision about what she wants.

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song: flowers, from ha.des.town iris, goo goo dolls moth’s wings, passion pit: this is more a general vibe. i picture it when shallan is in a creative spurt. sun, sleeping at last: for the same creation aesthetic. fire drills, dessa (for when she finally Snaps. and also some lines just really Hit)

hobbies to pass the time: drawing is the big one. she’s always got her sketchbook and something to draw with on hand. it’s an art she’s perfected and uses it both for her lightweaving, and to relax. she enjoys scholarship, exploring history is of a special interest, but taking a closer look at the local flora and fauna is just as fun. she’s naturally curious, so if something grabs her attention, she will want to take a look. she also enjoys discussing what she’s working on with other people, sometimes just so she can use them as a sounding board, but also because they might have insights she doesn’t. it’s very fun for her to explore ideas. she likes going on walks, exploring the area around her. just spending quality time with people she enjoys too. mental illnesses: Dissociative Personality Disorder is the big one. ADHD, PTSD, some depression. physical illnesses: None. left or right brained: right fears: CONFINEMENT. she fears vulnerability and relying others, but she also craves it quite a bit. she fears being understood completely because she’s certain there isn’t anything left to love if someone were to see everything. she fears what she can’t understand, and losing the people she loves, more than she already has. self confidence level: extremely low. she projects an air of self confidence, but frequently downplays her talents. she finds it completely astounding that adolin might actually find her attractive in any sense, let alone be interested in her as a person. her trauma and what she precieves as crimes has left her feeling hollowed out, because she is so terrified of someone really Seeing her, she works hard to hide those corners of herself from others and often feels like she’s failing at even that. vulnerabilities: shallan keeps secrets. too many of them. and she can often dig herself into a pit and struggle to get herself out, and even when she’s in that deep, she has difficulty asking for help. she doesn’t always think things through. her dpd can leave her particularly vulnerable depending on which personality is in control (veil in particular has trouble seeing the Big Picture). it’s easy to goad her into a fight (of the verbal variety) and she will stop at nothing to have the last word. if you have members of her family to hold over her, that’s a good tool. and shallan cannot resist a good mystery, that is a surefire way to pull her in.

tagged by: @luck-crowned tagging: @marblecarved (for mary, emma, or horace!), @melnchly (meg or ros), @minastiriiths, @arturiusrex, @gxtenoughnxrve, @ambiidexter, and @arborvitas

#c. shallan #this took me several days of fact checking the books for some shit lmafo #anyway meet my garbage daughter

[chequeredwhitpost]

🌍🌎🌏Saving the World🌍🌎🌏                      --Douxie X OC--

--------------------------------------- Part One --------------------------------------------------

The lot of us trudge through the icy terrain, freezing cold wind at our backs, being ankle-deep in snow. Our bodies are shivering and cold to the touch, but we’re almost there. Almost… there. 

Hi. My name is Emmett. I am the great wizard-ess of Crysto magics and Vibra magics. 

‘Pfft. Yeah right.’

And I am really fortunate enough to have a connection and be able to study under the guide of Merlin. (Even if he is a big jerk sometimes.) But this? This environment is dreadful! I never signed up for any quests to go on for world saving! This is ridiculous. And I’m freezing my butt off!

I feel a few shivers run through me as we reach the top of the hills. A great view this would be… IF everything weren’t LAYERED IN ICE!

I. Hate. The. Cold. 

If it wasn’t already clear, myself and the rest of the team of people I know are on a quest to ‘save the world’. What a load of bull, if you ask me. I mean, our enemies are on their way to resurrecting a great and vicious BEAST that wants to slay the world! What hopes do we have in finding this lady’s tomb? How powerful could a human have really been? 

Not that powerful, in my opinion. 

I feel a great bonk on the back of my head, and fumble forward. My feet snag in the snow and I go down-- face first. Looking up behind me I see that it was Merlin who hit me upside the head…. With his staff. 

I growl under my breath and glare at him.

“What the bucket was that for, old man?!” I snip.

“You were doubting our opportunity to prevent the end of the world. Again.” 

“Yeah? Well that’s no reason to hit me on the head!!” 

Hisirdoux sighs and helps me up off the cold ground. 

“You have to try and keep hope that this will work, Emm’.” 

“It will work.” Merlin grumbles. 

“Whatever you say…” 

“Are you asking to get bonked again?” 

I huff a breath.

“No, master Merlin.” 

“Then I suggest you keep that loud mouth of yours shut.” 

I sigh and follow Merlin through the trees. We come up to a large bank of ground. But the ground --- big surprise-- is all ice. For as far as the eye can see, too. I shrug my shoulders and turn around to head home.

“Welp, guess it was all for not! Let’s go home~.” 

Archie flies in front of me and scowls. I huff and hold my arms out on either side.

“Oh gimme a break! What do you say we do from here on?!” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Bids Merlin, “We cross the ice.”

I look at him and laugh. 

“Oh that’s funny.” 

“How so?” 

“You actually… hah, you expect me to walk out on that thin ass ice!?” 

“Uh, language, Emmett.” Archie scolds.

I shoot him an angry glance. 

“It shouldn’t be… thin.” Merlin pokes the ice with the butt of his staff. It only dents.

“You’re actually going to cross it??” 

“Yes.” 

I roll my head back, looking at the grey sky.

“Ugh. Fine. BUT IF WE DIE I’M GONNA KILL YOU GUYS.” 

“Uhhh.” 

Douxie shakes his head at Archie, 

“Just let her have that.” He whispers. 

I grumble under my breath and swing my arms out to motion to the field of ice. 

“After you.” I say through gritted teeth. 

We start walking out onto the ice-- me second in the line-- and it’s almost like everything is gonna be fine… until we hear a crack. I stop for a second, thinking one thing. 

I’m gonna die. 

I wait a few seconds but no more cracks appear, so I keep moving. But then another loud chip sounds out and I freeze in anticipation. 

“Um, you guys hear that right?” I croak. 

“Nothing to worry about. It’s only a simple leak in the ice.” 

“Leak… in the ice?” Douxie frets. 

“Yes. A leak in the ice, that’s what I said.” 

“BUT WHAT DOES THAT MEAN????” 

“It means that the ice is cracking.” 

“Oh fuzz buckets.”Sinks Douxie. 

“You are hopeless, old man. YOU LEAD US OUT HERE!! ON A MINEFIELD OF ICE!!!” 

“Wait… If the ice is cracking… what’s going  to happen to us?” 

“What do you mean?” Archie asks. 

“Where… will we go? Are we gonna fall off the hill?” 

“More like we’ll fall underneath it.” Merlin blurts. 

I turn pale. 

“WHAT?!” 

 Merlin sighs a deep breath and turns to face us three. 

“You might want to brace for impact in case this goes south.” 

“What.” 

He crashes his staff into the ice, piercing a hole in it. He bends over as, like, a bazillion cracks are formed from his hole. He plucks his staff back out and kneels down, peeking through the hole.

“Hmm. It’s just as I thought.” 

“WHAT NOW???”

He looks up and chuckles.

“We’re about to fall into a deep cavern.” 

“Oh shi---” 

The ice cracks and we plummet down into the caverns. 

Screaming. 

For our lives. 

(Or at least I am.)

||||||||||||||||

When I finish blacking out… I open my eyes and see darkness. I shiver. It’s even colder now than before! I hold out my hand and summon a glowing crystal to shine the darkness out of its place. I huff a breath, seeing the air of mine out before my face. 

“Douxie? Archie?” I call. 

“Ugh….” 

“Here…” 

I sigh a breath of relief upon hearing their groans of life. As for Merlin though. . . I don’t really care. 

And then I feel another hit to the back of the head.

“OW!!! ...Ergh, damnit!!” 

I turn and see …

Merlin.

“What was that fo---” 

“Doubting me, of course.” 

“Can you read my thoughts or something!? Damn dude!!” 

“‘Dude?” 

“Language, Emmett.” Groans Archie. 

“Oh shut it, Arch.” 

I gruff, rubbing the back of my head. 

“So unlady like…” 

I watch as Douxie gets up and comes over to my side. He lends me a hand in getting back on my feet. I thank him, still rubbing my aching head where I’ve been hit.

“So… Where are we?” Archie asks, changing the subject.

“Good question.” Douxie hums.

Merlin looks around and says nothing. He sees a corridor in the cave and just starts walking for it. No plan exposed. No secret map shortcut. Nothing. Foolish old man. 

“You want to get hit again?” Douxie asks me.

“Wha--? Can everyone read my mind?!” 

“It’s written all over your face actually.” 

“What is?” 

“Your doubts and emotions. You’re practically an open book, Emm’.” 

“Whatever. . .” 

“We should probably follow him before he gets away.” Notes Archie. 

“R-right.” 

|||||||||||||||||||

“Whoa… What is this place?” I ask, gazing upon a small frozen garden within the depths of the cave. 

A glowing tree resides in the middle of the garden, with a small podium nested in front of it. I gasp upon the beautiful sight. 

“I believe we have found her tomb.”

“Her tomb?” 

“The Guardian of Beauty. The Wizard of Life. The ____ of ____. But her true name… Was Juni of Gardevonn.” 

“Wait… She sounds familiar.” 

“She should. We’ve been discussing her powerful potential in my lectures as of late. But you wouldn’t know that in between your naps, now would you?” 

“Ooh, he has you there.” 

“Archie.” 

The small cat-dragon huffs a snicker and perches on Douxie’s shoulder. I roll my eyes and we move forward for the tree. I can't help but marvel at the glowing tree’s blue color. I hum a note and we come up to the podium, which is now noticeably frozen in ice. I huff a breath and reach my hand out for the ice. Upon contact, I feel something similar to it.  Like … My crystal magics. 

“It’s not just ice.” 

“It isn’t?” 

“Nope. This is a mixture of the cold stuff and crystals.” 

“So… I would ask if you can get the book out-- but i’d rather know what the book is before we potentially risk our lives for it.” 

“It is the book of monsters.” Answers Merlin. 

We all look at him.

“The book of Monsters?” 

“That is correct. A book about all the weaknesses monsters have. Monsters not from this world.” 

“Wait… What would a human wizard have a book like this for? Where did she even get it?” 

“I'm afraid that she was never given this book. In fact, she wrote it herself.”

“What?” 

“She was the first with mastery over life. Naturally, she’d keep a book to all the weaknesses of monsters who lived.” 

“And ones that might be coming back?” I check. 

“Yes. That is the hope anyway.” 

“Great. Let’s bust it out and get going then!” 

“I’m not so sure it’s that easy,” 

“Sure it is,” I mark, “I can remove the crystal protection and Archie can melt the ice with his dragon breath.” 

“Oh. Right.” 

“Hmm. Just proceed with caution.” Merlin heeds. 

We nod. 

I put my hands against the cold surface and cast a spell to remove the first half of protection. It’s gone in a matter of seconds. I feel a bit dizzy afterwards but nothing new. Then, I step back beside Douxie and he grabs my hand. 

Looking at him, he nods and smiles at me. 

“Your hands are freezing.” He notes. 

“I wonder why.” I joke.

“Cheeky.” 

Archie melts the ice and makes sure to be careful about not burning the book. Once the cover is free, Merlin steps forward and rips the book out of the ice. But as we think it's all good, the cave rumbles. 

“Oh wonderful.” 

“Let’s get out of here!” 

“I agree.” 

And we run. 

Run run run, back to Camelot.

To prepare for the worst. 

#wizards #wizards tales of arcadia #wizards of arcadia #Wizards oc #TrollHunters oc #trolls #trollhunters #troll jim #i LOVE this show #xdouxie #douxie #hisirdoux #douxie casperan #merlin #merlins amulet #for the glory of merlin #morgana #tales of arcadia morgana #more story #save the world #camelot #king arthur #ancient beasts #evil vs good #good vs bad #callista #gumgums #glory #amulet #daylight is mine to command

[annieleigha-blog]

Invitation [Part 1 - Masquerade Ball]

Please be kind. I haven't written anything in a very long time. Let me know what you think? Hope you enjoy this story.

Lady Annie Leigha of Edgewater & Miss Briar Daly

All images and characters belong to their perspective owners.

Books: Desire and Decorum

Genres: Drama, Friendship, Romance

Rating: G

Pairings: Mr. Sinclaire/MC

Characters: Annie Leigha, Briar Daly, Ernest Sinclaire and a little bit of Mr Woods.

Series: Masquerade Ball

1,277 words (~7 minutes reading time)

Lady Annie Leigha of Edgewater spent her early morning, sat in the townhouse library pondering her life and the loves of romance, a stack of her favourite authors by her side, filtering through each page as she sighed softly to herself. Wondering what else her future will bring.

What name do they call such a woman as I.. besotted and so in love.. with a man such as he..?

Let me count the ways that I love thee?

I love thee to the depth and breadth and height..

My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight. 

Oh how Miss Elizabeth Barrett Browning and Mr William Shakespeare viewed the love between a man and a woman.. all the words have been written.. how does one compare to such.. who wrote sonnets, romance and tales as though they had lived them all.. had they live them all?

As I daydream about such matters, I think of him. I wonder what he is doing now. Is he dealing with matters of business or is he taking a turn of the town? Oh how I wished I knew it all..

Lady Annie.. I am taken from my thoughts by my best lady and ladies maid. I turn my head as she rushes forth, letter in tow.

This arrived for you in this moment. She hands me a parchment.

Please let it be from him or at least good news.

The seal belongs to Duke of Braggard as my brother had once called him.

What can he truly want from me now? I fall back on to the settee.. covering my eyes, groaning loudly than deemed appropriate.

Annie.. Briar gasps at me dramatically, as though she cared about such things as propriety.

She giggled softly, sitting next to me.

Do you want me to open it? She offers,  wanting to know more than I.

Oh if you must, eyes still closed as I thrust the letter towards her.

Such beautiful cursive too.. she says haughtily, reading the letter without a word of it.

I groaned loudly again, while Briar giggles softly, loving toying with me.

It’s nothing too important really.. she makes to get up, knowing farewell I want to know though I wish I didn’t HAVE to know.

Oh Annie.. I will let you out of your misery.. the man is holding a ball at his estate, and he requires your utmost attention or he shall be buried in the nigh, his grave, with words such as this, death to a broken heart she giggles softly at her antics.

Oh Briar.. what does it ACTUALLY say? Please.. I am besides myself as it is.. I groaned again

All this groaning Annie.. how scandalous. What will the gossip mongers think?  Briar  says with a laugh. Not just a giggle, but a full-bodied laugh that shakes the settee.

They will think, Lady Annie Leigha of Edgewater is being accosted in the library by some unknown master.. Briar cackled with even more laughter. I bury myself in the settee,  piling pillows atop.

Briar pushes the pillows off my person, and flicks my nose.

Briar ! I gasp as she giggles again and apologies for inflicting  me that tiny bit of pain.

She straights up and begins to tell me what the letter says.

It shall be a masked ball.. she hugs the letter to her person.

How mysterious Annie.. She takes hold of both my hands, pulling me up in all her seriousness.

I do wish to come.. can I? She whispered, uncertainty in her always confident voice.

No one will know it is me, will they? She pleads softly, as if I wouldn’t do anything for my best lady.

Oh say yes Annie, she all but begged, as if I could turn her down.. ever.

I sat still for a moment, a seriousness in my posture and looks, letting the suspense kill her a little.

I don’t know Br.. slow words exited my mouth slyly, eyes viewing the most crescent fallen I have seen on her beautiful face in a while

It’s okay.. she stands up abruptly, giving up on all hopes of attending the ball, about to walk off hastily.

Of course you can come. We will browse the best houses and choose the best dresses. In an unlady like fashion, she picks up her skirts and runs towards me and picking me up as if I weighed nothing, both giggling in excitement.

Oh really Annie? I don’t know what to say?She stutters unlike the confident Briar  that I know.

Come forth. We shall make haste. It will be our little secret.. maybe a husband can come out of this? I wink mischievously.

A knock on the door brings propriety in, shoulders pushed back, polite smiles and soft-spoken words.

Lady Annie, if I may interrupt? Mr Woods asks respectfully, hating to interrupt their happy together.

Mr Woods,  is everything okay? I can see Briar making moon eyes to Mr Woods.

You have a visitor, may I send him in? 

Who is it? Not quiet sure if I am to say yes or no. I look at Briar and she sends me a reassuring smile.

A Mr Ernest Sinclair, My Lady.

Briar  squeals, and coughs for propriety’s sake.

Allow him to come if you please Mr Woods, he nods and disappears to fetch my beloved.

Hello Lady Leigha, he bows and addresses Briar with a nod.

What brings you here this fine morning Mr Sinclair? My heart flutters as he moves forward. His usual tight smile on his beautiful face.

His words do not come so fast, as I watch the emotions play across his face.

Does it deem inappropriate to say I needed to see you? Big smiles adorn our lips.

So straightforward Mr Sinclair. Can I assume you just heard news of the up coming ball at the Dukes estate? Eyebrows raised in question.

Nothing runs by you My Lady. Can I be braise and ask to escort you for some shopping in town? Hopeful eyes.

I would love nothing more.. looking at Briar slyly.

We would love to bring you in to a very secret tale Mr Sinclair.  I do hope you agree to help us?

I would love nothing more than to agree to some mischievous My Lady, he agrees fast.

Then let us set off. Briar .. I wait patiently.

Are you ready? She nods her head in the read , a big smile adorning her face.

As you wish My Lady, winking as she walk by, Mr Sinclair eyeing me with a questioning look.

I pat his chest, a surprised look, before his neutral expression returns.

After you My Lady, I snicker softly as I follow Briar.

You remember where the parlour is Mr Sinclair? Briar and I shall make post-haste. If you please Mr Sinclair, nodding his head in understanding.

We shan’t be too long, she says just before she turns to walk towards the stairs.

As you wish My Lady. He says as he watches her walk away, talking to her best lady.

#desireanddecorum #desire and decorum #annie leigha #ernestsinclair #ernest sinclaire #playchoices #long post #long reads #choices #choices fandom #choices fanfiction #choices fanfic archive #sinclair x mc #ernest Sinclair x mc

[lenfaz]

MissMatched.com, ch.1 (1/?)

In a world where every dating site swears by their algorithms and databases to find the most accurate match with a high percentage of compatibility, a new site is giving them all a run for their money. Missmatched.com promises no data or algorithm, just a few people that *know* how to find your best match based on their instincts and their vibes.

Emma Swan is hired to investigate if there's a fraud involved with the site’s claim of not using any type of statistics. That path leads her right into the hands of Missmatched.com founder, Killian Jones, who promises her that he'll prove he's worth his salt by finding Emma her perfect match without any data or algorithms involved.

A new story by me, dedicated from the bottom of my heart to the wonderful @businesscasualprincess All the thanks in the world to my beta @sambethe

Also on Ao3 or FF.net

Sometimes she hated her job. Maybe hate was a strong word, but somedays, Emma Swan wished that she would have picked something else. Something simple, easy, boring. Ordinary. Something that was the embodiment of everything she lacked while growing up. Like an actuary, or a financial clerk, or even a data processor.

But no, she had to live on the edge and choose to be a PI, because after a stint with the law and coming out of it almost unscathed, risk was the way to go. After all, the only one who showed any interest Emma’s life had been the bounty hunter who had tracked her down two states. Following in her footsteps and choosing a life with a certain amount of danger seemed like a natural choice.  Which wasn’t a bad thing, per se. No one was waiting at home with baited breath for her to come back.

Sure, she had a few colleagues here and there that she’d meet for drinks. A few regular clients that would invite her to Christmas parties and Thanksgiving dinners, but no one would miss her terribly if she went. No one’s life would be torn apart in pieces if something were to happen to her.

And most days, Emma Swan was ok with that, it was the hand that was dealt to her by life and she was ok with it.

But not today. Today she was standing outside the building that held the headquarters of her new case and she was not ok.

Who knew the world of dating services could be so lucrative? And cutthroat? Apparently, it was - so much so that everyone had up in arms when a somewhat new and innovative site had started to take away their clientele. Their advertisement - a sworn oath that they didn’t use any type of data analysis or algorithm to find your perfect match - had most, if not all, of the competition screaming bloody murder - or fraud.

The scandal had been so big that the local chamber of commerce had decided to hire a private - third party and impartial - observer to investigate whether or not the site was advertising under false promises.

Enter Emma Swan, local PI, to see if MissMatched.com was telling the truth.

So there she stood, taking a deep breath before she made her way into the building that supposedly held a heap of happy endings Emma Swan wasn’t looking forward to seeing. It was one thing to know you were alone in the world, but it was another thing altogether to be reminded of it by sugar-sweet stories of happenstances and meet-cutes.

She really should have recommended the case out to another firm.

At first sight, MissMatched.com’s headquarters were nothing out of the ordinary. A few signs with the company’s logo here and there, and - unlike some other sites’ offices she’d visited while doing her pre-case research - an almost healthy absence of anything red or that resembled a heart. If anything, the place looked more like a regular tech company than anything else. Big white boards on the walls, a few conference rooms where people were hanging out and working out of, printed sticky notes and pics, and a couple of wooden doors that held what Emma guessed were the co-founders’ offices.

She quickly approached the front desk. It was a mahogany and it seemed to be vintage, with lovely wood carvings around the edge and down the legs. A redhead was sitting at the desk, slowly flipping through a few folders and reviewing some files. She lifted her head and smiled at Emma.

“Welcome to MissMatched.com, here to find your soulmate?”

Emma started to snort before she quickly covered it in an unlady-like cough as she realized the woman’s face was shifting from helpful to disheartened. “Actually, I’m Emma Swan, I have an appointment with -” she checked the post-it in her hand - “Liam Jones.”

The woman nodded in understanding. “About the investigation, right? I’m not sure what they think they can find,” she said with a shrug. “We’re the real thing, you know? Completely legit. We know, you know. We just know.”

Her fervent defense was starting to give Emma a few goosebumps - and not the good kind - before the woman seemed to get ahold of herself.  “Apologies, Killian always tells me to tone it down. I’m Ariel.” Emma shook the hand that was held out to her, a polite smile on her lips. “So... Liam Jones?” she asked, bringing the attention back to the matter at hand. She didn’t have time for small talk, this was business and business only. Besides, Emma Swan didn’t get paid by the hour, so she needed to get this show on the road.

“Right! Right! Sorry about that… well, I’m afraid that there was a situation downtown and Liam is stuck in traffic. He won’t be able to make it.” Ariel bit her lip in a silent apology.

Of course he couldn’t make it. This was not off to a good start if the owners were already avoiding their first meeting with her. Emma could already foresee having to struggle with them each step of the way to get them to release information, or let her interview staff and clients.

She was already so caught up planning ahead on her alternatives that she almost missed the fact Ariel was continuing to talk to her. “Which is why Killian freed his schedule for the day to meet with you and cover for his brother.”

“Killian?” Emma squinted at Ariel, who nodded.  

Killian Jones, co-founder of the site.”

“Oh, yes yes.” Emma shook her head, she knew that. She’d read that the site was founded by two brothers, but Liam Jones seemed to be the one handling the commercial and business side while Killian Jones ran the actual matching department, according to the information she was given.

“Alright, let me ring him for you and he’ll meet you here in a second. Please have a seat or feel free to start looking around. We’ve got nothing to hide” Ariel grabbed her phone and Emma took the time to look at some of the pictures framed on one of the walls. Happy couples of all shapes, ages, colors, and genders smiled back at her. Some of them even had thankful messages written underneath.

Thank you for bringing us together!

Who knew true love was just one town away?

I can’t believe our friends never thought we’d be a good match!

As advertisements went, it was effective. Emma tried to see if her usual built-in lie detector worked on pictures, but she wasn’t getting any vibes off of them. They seemed real.

She was so deep in thought about that, looking attentively at the pictures, that she didn’t notice the footsteps behind her.

“Miss Swan?” an accented male voice spoke and Emma turned around.

The first thing she noticed was the man’s blue eyes. The second was his dark hair. And the third was the overall package of what was the most handsome man Emma had ever seen in real life. A handsome man who was now approaching her, his hand extended to shake hers.

“I’m Killian Jones.” His hand was soft but firm as he shook hers. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

#cs ff #cs au ff #lenfaz fics #captain swan #missmatched.com #hook x emma #online dating #or something like that

[impala-dreamer]

Words Can Hurt

SPN FanFic

~Dean and Y/N investigate a couple of strange deaths in upstate New York.~

Dean x Reader, OMC (Ryan), Sam (barely)

4,129 Words

Warnings: SFW, few curses, mentions of show level gore and deaths, tiny bit o’angst, mostly crack and fluff to finish. 

A/N: This is my entry for @jalove-wecallhimdean  500 Followers - Do It Like Dean Challenge! Congrats Sweetheart! My prompt was, “Start talking Chuckles!” Hope you like it!

“I just do not get it. It’s like… the guy literally took a long walk off a short pier.” Dean shook his head, confused and also just a little bit amused by their current case.

Y/N nodded, looking out at the calm water. “Yup, that’s exactly what he did.” They were standing on the edge of a broken down pier overlooking the Hudson River. The old wooden dock had been long abandoned and overtaken by the greenery that lined the coast. It was mostly hidden from the road, but today, police tape and flashing lights brought attention to the crime scene.

A man walking into the cold water and drowning in itself wasn’t enough to bring hunters into town, but add that to the three other odd deaths that had taken place over the last week, and Y/N’s interest had been piqued. She turned and climbed back up the small frozen hill, her heels digging into the dirt, and smiled at the handsome detective who held his hand out for her.

“Well thank you sir,” she said, accepting his assistance.

He flashed a brilliant smile, all teeth and twinkling eyes as he looked her over, his hand locked around hers. “Not a problem at all Agent. It’s not every day we get the FBI to help us out; and never agents as beautiful as you.”

Y/N laughed, blushing at his compliment, “Well, we do try to help out where we can.”

Dean cleared his throat behind her, annoyed at the blatant flirting happening before him. “So, Ryan… it is Ryan, isn’t it?” The young detective nodded, releasing Y/N’s hand and facing Dean. “We’re gonna need to see any files you have on Mr. O’Donnell, follow up with his family and that sort of thing. Also the info on the other cases we spoke about.”

Ryan nodded, “Sure, but I’m still not sure what those have to do with this?”

Dean scoffed, puffing out his chest, asserting his fake authority. “Why don’t you let us worry about that, son?”

The detective agreed and walked off, leaving Y/N to scold Dean in peace, her hand flying to her hip. “Why do you have to do that? Poor guy’s probably new at this and you go treating him like he’s a toddler.”

“Me? Why do you have to flirt with every cop we talk to? It’s unlady like Y/N.” Dean pushed past her and headed towards the Impala.

“Excuse me!” She called after him in a hushed voice, leaning over the hood of the car as she glared at him. “I can’t help it if guys like me! If you haven’t noticed lately, I fill out this power suit quite nicely.”

“You’re unbelievable. Why don’t you go cozy up to your boyfriend and get the files?” He waved a hand towards the detective and hopped into the car.

Y/N rolled her eyes and set off. There was no use arguing with Dean, but she did enjoy the back and forth. Kept things interesting when the hours got long. She missed Sam; he usually stepped in to shut them both up. Without him around, who knows how long they could go on like this.

“OK, so… victim numero uno dies of quote: ‘self imposed asphyxiation’,” Dean read from the case file while Y/N paced around the motel room, trying to piece together the information they had. “It sounds like he held his breath until he died.” Dean looked up, his brows knitted together. “Is that even possible?”

Y/N shrugged, “I mean, I guess it is if you’re cursed or something.” She stuck her thumb in her mouth, chewing on the nail as she pondered. “You think we’re dealing with witches?”

Dean sighed dramatically and rubbed his forehead, “God, I hate witches.”

“Yeah, I know.” She kept pacing as she talked through her thoughts. “The woman who choked last Tuesday, it was on a sock, right?” Dean mumbled in agreement. “And the kid two days ago, he literally bit off more than he could chew, died eating an entire ham. You see the pattern here?”

Dean was watching her with glassy eyes as she jogged back and forth across the ugly green carpet. “Yeah, I think I get it.” Y/N kept up her pacing, turning around once she hit each wall and starting again.

“So, great, now we just have to figure out the whos, the whats,” she rambled on just as quickly as she walked. “The wheres, and the whys, and all that crap. Do you think it could be something else? I mean, maybe it’s not a witch.” Dean blinked wildly as she carried on, trying to follow her through his exhaustion. “If it is, it’d have to be a very powerful witch to curse so many people. And they’re not connected at all. So how is it happening? How is the witch doing it, ya know? Maybe we should call Sam. He could have some ideas worth thinking over…”

“Sit down and shut up, Y/N!” Dean yelled, his patience finally breaking.

Almost instantly, Y/N fell to the floor, sitting down cross legged on the scratchy carpet; her lips sealing shut. Dean sighed, hanging his head and covering his eyes with his hand, thankful for the moment of silence. It took a few seconds before he realized what had happened and his head snapped up, looking at Y/N in shock. “Hey, you… just sat down and shut up. You never ever listen to me. What the hell?”

Y/N’s eyes went wide and she shook her head, unable to answer him.   

Dean laughed. He couldn’t help it, and he knew she’d be angry, but he did. He threw his head back and laughed at the amusing possibilities of the curse. Y/N glared at him from the floor, waiting patiently for her speech to return to her.

Dean calmed down after a good while, wiping the tears from his eyes with his shirt sleeve. “OK. OK. This is… awesome. So, if I understand correctly, whatever anyone is told to do, they do. The curse, or whatever it is, is making these idioms become fact. Or commands. I told you to can it, so you did. Mom tells her kid he’s gonna bite off more than he can chew, he does. What’s with the sock?”

Y/N mumbled from below, “Ick ah oct in in” She struggled to open her mouth, stretching her jaw until it finally gave way a little.

“What? Excuse me?” Dean started laughing again, but held himself in check.

“Stick a sock in it,” she finally said clearly. “So she did. Until she choked. That’s just terrible.”

Dean pursed his lips and shrugged, “Yeah, especially if the sock was dirty.”

“You are such an asshole, you know that?”

Dean’s phone rang before he could offer a witty retort; the raunchy guitar lick filling the small room. Y/N climbed to her feet, stretching her legs as Dean answered the phone. She shuffled through the files on the table, looking over each victim’s life, written in short, choppy paragraphs on photocopied paper. How sad, she thought, that an entire life could be boiled down to a few lines of smudged black and white.

“Well that was your boyfriend, Ryan,” Dean informed her with extra emphasis on the detective’s name. Y/N rolled her eyes beautifully. “They found another body.”

“Really now? And what’d this vic do? Face-palm too much? Eat shit and die?” Y/N chuckled and Dean sneered.

“You really should leave the jokes to me, Sweetheart.” He sighed and continued. “Nope, this guy…” he smiled, trying not to laugh again, “ripped an arm and a leg off at the used car dealership.”

“Because the car was gonna cost him…”

“Yeah, an arm and a leg.” Dean scrunched his eyes shut and did his best to not make a tasteless joke. After all, someone had just died. “This case is gonna kill me.”

“Any ideas Agent Nicks?” Ryan asked, his pretty blue eyes focused on the line of cleavage peeking between Y/N’s blouse; a fact that did not escape her notice.

“A few, none that we can share with you yet unfortunately. But thank you again for all your hard work Detective.” She batted her eyelashes and touched his arm, laying her fingers in the crook of his elbow. The young man smiled, swallowing hard, his face turning a deep rose at the attention he was receiving.  

Y/N heard Dean let out a huff behind her, surely, she knew, accompanied by a stunning eye roll.

Ryan reluctantly left the two fake Feds to examine the body, turning back not once, but three times to smile at Y/N before he turned the corner and disappeared into the labyrinth of hospital hallways.

“That dude needs to chill,” Dean commented as he pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

Y/N flipped the file folder onto a clean examining table and joined Dean by the corpse. “Huh, I was actually thinking I might let him take me out tonight. I could use a little wine and dine.”

Dean sucked in a breath, filled with uncalled for jealousy. “You bite your tongue! You don't want to go out with-”

“Ouch!” Y/N yelped, her hand flying to get mouth; tears of pain springing to get eyes.

Dean cringed, “Shit, I'm sorry. Did you?”

“Yes.” Y/N whined

“Is it bad?”

“Yes!” she groaned through clenched teeth and gave him a hard stare. “Let's just get this over with. And stop with the idioms please!”

The body was a mess. How a forty three year old, out of shape, restaurant manager could rip his own arm and leg off was a mystery never to be solved, but there it was, plain as day. He'd been able to sever both limbs before collapsing from blood loss and shock, the gruesome event caught on security camera.

There were no marks, no ritualistic carvings, no hex bags on his person or at the scene; nothing that could account for the strange deaths overtaking the quiet New York suburb. There was no connections between any of the victims, and nowhere to start digging for an answer. They didn't even know what they were looking for since the lack of  paraphernalia made it clear the cause was not witchcraft.

Y/N and Dean walked down Main Street, silently observing the bustling neighborhood, raising eyebrows at each other as they noticed the strange behavior around them.

Dean nudged Y/N in the side, calling attention to a man loading up his truck with what looked to be the entire contents of his home. “See what's missing?” Dean asked with a chuckle. “It's everything but the kitchen sink.”

Y/N shook her head, trying not to laugh. It was funny, sure, but it could very easily turn deadly. A scream filled the air nearby, and Y/N took off towards it. Dean followed to find Y/N at an outdoor cafe, looking at a shrieking couple. It seemed the wife had jabbed a fork into her husband's hand.

Dean grabbed Y/N’s arm, pulling her away, heading back towards the motel as she giggled. “She stuck a fork in him, Dean. Cause he was done.” Neither hunter could hide their amusement any longer, and seeing as how the man would live, they allowed themselves a moment of laughter. They chuckled all the way back to their room, collapsing, out of breath onto the bed once they arrived.

“Did you see that old man, Y/N/N? He was foaming at the mouth!” Dean slapped a hand on his stomach, enjoying the merriment.

Y/N began to settle, sitting up on her elbows. “This is all very funny, but also not good dude. What about the guy who was sitting in the E.R. after trying to ‘keep his eyes peeled’? We gotta make with the research tonight. This has to stop.”

Dean sat up, “OK. You get started, I'll go grab us some burgers.”

Y/N’s eyes were burning as she scrolled through page after page on her laptop, coming up short with each new idea. Finally she gave up and called Sam, filling him in with what they had so far.

“Huh, it sounds pretty bad there. You want me to take a ride?”

“No, Sam. We got this. I’m just having trouble pinning down the cause, but thanks.” Y/N sat at the table, pouring over the files for the thousandth time.

“Well, it sounds like this case we worked a while back, but it can’t be that,” he confessed, his voice pouring out from the phone speaker.

“Oh yeah? What was it?”

“The Anti-Christ.”

Y/N laughed, “Wait, you’re serious?”

“Uh, yeah Y/N. But I don’t think it’s that. Have you considered a Trickster?”

“I… have not…” Quickly she typed the name into her search engine and scanned through some page summaries. “Huh, that could be it.”

The door burst open then, Dean rushing in with take out bags and a proud grin on his freckled face. “I got it! It’s a Trickster!” He said excitedly.

“We know,” Y/N said, motioning to the phone.

Dean deflated instantly, sighing, “Oh man, you called Sam?”

“Hi Dean.”

Dean glared at the phone, “Hey, you wanted to sit this one out, so sit it out.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and picked up the phone, “Thanks Sam, I’ll call you later.” She glared at Dean with her usual expression when he was being an ass. “You’re so cranky lately.”

He opened one of the bags and dug through it, pulling out a foil wrapped burger and tossing it at her. “Yeah, well I don’t like this case. I feel like I can’t say anything.”

“Maybe if you just tried being nice…”

“I’m always nice! I’m a joy to be around!”

“Right, clearly. Anyway,” Y/N picked up some crime scene photos and flipped through them. “The trickster theory might fit.” Dean settled down in the chair across from her, unwrapping his dinner and barely paying attention. “It’s funny, well, if you’re not on the receiving end of it. It’s clever, and there’s been random candy wrappers found at each crime scene.”  

“What? No there hasn’t,” Dean took a huge bite of his cheeseburger.

“Yeah, there have.” Y/N stood up and dropped the pictures in front of him, “Read ‘em and weep cowboy!” She walked away, pulling out a dress from her bag and slipping into the bathroom.

She showered quickly and changed, keeping an eye on the clock. She dried her hair, and pulled it back, letting loose waves fall around her shoulders. It wasn’t until she was fiddling with her mascara that she heard it. A strange stuttering noise coming from the room behind her. Cautiously she opened the door and peeked out, seeing a sight that simultaneously made her cringe with guilt and stifle a laugh. Dean was sitting where she’d left him, the photos clutched in his hands, crying like a baby.

“Are you actually weeping?” She asked, stepping out of the warm bathroom. She went over to him and place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He pushed her away, wiping at his eyes. “Not cool Y/N,” he sobbed.

“It’s OK Dean, you just have to wait for it to pass.” She tried to take the pictures away from him, but his grip tightened around the edges. “I’m so sorry.”

“No you’re not.” He looked up at her with red eyes, his cheeks stained with tears. He looked pathetic, but she couldn’t help but laugh. “Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “Why are you fancy?”

Y/N stepped back and spun around, showing off her tight black dress, “You like?”

“Yeah,” he said, the tears finally stopping. “I mean, no. What? Where are you going?”

“I have a date,” she grinned.

“A date? You’re not really gonna go out with that pretty boy detective, are you?” Dean stood up, jealousy clearly plastered on his wet face.

She shrugged, “So what’s it to you?”

“We’re on the job for one thing! And… and… he’s… no! Why would you do that?”

“Calm down dude. He’s hot and I’m bored.” She turned away, grabbed her purse and checked herself in the mirror one last time, adjusting her hair.

“Yeah but Y/N…”

“But what Dean? I’m not allowed to have a little fun? You get to pick up hussies in every town, but I can’t let a guy buy me some drinks? Don’t be an asshole.”

Dean pulled in a breath of air, puffing his chest out, “You can’t go out with him!”

Y/N spun around, her eyes wide with anger, “Give me one good reason why!”

He opened his mouth, ready to strike, but couldn’t. His lips snapped shut and he looked down at the ugly carpet under his feet.

Y/N shook her head, “There, see? That’s what I thought.” She stalked towards the door, pulling it open before turning back for one last jab at her friend. “Ya know what Dean? Go fuck yourse-”

“Don’t say it! Do not say it!” Dean threw his hands over his ears, screwing his eyes shut tight. “While the pipes could use some cleaning, I do not have time for that right now! Someone’s gotta finish working!” He yelled.

Y/N bit her lip, her eyes mere slits as she glared at him. “Fine. Sorry,” she softened. While it would have been amusing, she really didn’t need to think about Dean jerking off until he died. “Don’t wait up,” she said with a flip of her hair as she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

All things considered, she probably should have listened to Dean. What started out as an amazing date, drinks at the fancier bar in town, Ryan dressed in a tight, sexy red sweater, had turned into the stuff of nightmares. Well, a nightmare for anyone else; for a hunter, it just seemed par for the course.

Somewhere between handsy flirting at the bar and drunken kisses in the alley, he had gotten the best of her, knocking her out with a quick blow to the head. When she woke up, Ryan was securing her wrists to a bedpost, giggling to himself as he worked.

Y/N came to, pulling hard at her bindings as she took in the situation. “Well, fuck, I’m all for a little rough sex, but usually I get asked first. You don't even know my safe word.”

Ryan just laughed spun around, turning away from her. Y/N sighed and took stock of her surroundings: the room was rather nice, one of the nicest she’d ever been held hostage in anyway. The bed she was sitting on was soft, with a plush golden comforter and plenty of pillows; her hands tied together against the wooden headboard. All in all, it could have been worse. Her purse however, filled with her cell and gun, was across the room staring at her. She was stuck; there was no getting around it. However, if he was going to kill her, he’d have done it already.  

“So, Ryan, if that is your real name,” she joked, trying to distract him while she wiggled her wrists from the tight rope, “what’s your deal, man? Roll into a new town, get a fancy job, start killing people? That’s cool, a little psychotic, but cool. I can dig it.”

Again he only laughed. He sat on the edge of the table that held her purse and watched her with glee in his eyes.

“You’re not very chatty, huh? Well, good news is, I am. It’s a problem, really, I’m told. I just get to yappin’ and I can’t stop, you know? Some find it endearing, but mostly I just get yelled at to shut up. What can you do?” More giggles. “So you gonna tell me what you want from me? I can only assume you know what I do with my time, as well you realize that I know what you are.” Laughter. “OK, start talking Chuckles! What do you want from me?”

A loud boom of laughter filled the room as Ryan lost himself in his amusement. He doubled over, clutching his stomach as the wave of mirth washed over him. Y/N rolled her eyes and then got a spark of excitement as the ropes holding began to loosen.

“You know, I’ve been having such a good time here,” he said, finally calming down, but still grinning like an idiot. “This town is just chock full of sarcastic folks who don’t really think before they speak. They just spit out whatever’s in their tiny heads without a caring how their words could affect other people. I’m merely showing them that words can hurt.”

“Oh yeah, you’re a fucking saint.”

He tilted his head and frowned, “No need to be mean, Y/N. I’d be nicer if I were you, especially since I still haven’t decided what to do with you and your hunting buddy.”

Dean. Dean had no clue where she was, no idea she was in trouble. Suddenly she found herself hoping that he’d been overly jealous and had come looking to bust up her date.

“Well why don’t you just get it over with? This is beginning to bore me.”

Ryan bolted forward, climbing onto the bed next to her, his knee pressing against her leg. He looked down over her, his voice filling with a sharp bite as he spoke. “I think I want to play with you a little more. Have some fun.” He ran a cool hand down her face and Y/N cringed, turning away as best she could. “What should I make you do? Could tell you to bang your head against the wall, or… maybe… let the whole thing… ‘go up in flames’...” His fingers closed around her cheeks, forcing her to look up at him. “The possibilities are endless, and oh so much fun.”

“Yeah, how about you drop dead?”

Ryan turned quickly at the sound of a voice behind him. He released Y/N’s face and she craned her neck to see Dean in the open doorway, holding a wooden stake high in his hands. “Hey Y/N/N, you cool?”

“Oh I’m just chillin’ Dean, you?” She sighed, and pulled at the ropes with renewed vigor. The Trickster flew off the bed towards Dean as Y/N watched on nervously.  

“You know me,” Dean smirked as he dodged a punch, “thanks for keeping your GPS on.”

Y/N laughed, “Thanks for being so untrusting.”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” he said while driving his fist into Ryan’s face. “It’s that I don’t trust anyone really.” He punched again, sending the fiend reeling backwards. “Especially baby-faced detectives who hit on my girl.” Ryan lunged forward but Dean fended him off, grabbing his head and forcing it into his own knee.

“Your girl?” Y/N questioned.

Ryan fell backwards onto the floor, dazed and exhausted. In one quick motion Dean fell to his knees, jamming the blood-soaked stake through the monster’s heart, killing him instantly. Dean bobbed his head proudly and pursed his lips, “Suck on that, dick.”

Y/N smiled, as Dean stood up, so proud of himself. She gave a final twist to the ropes and managed to release one of her hands. “Dean?”

He looked over and remembered that she was tied up. He came to her side quickly and released her other wrist.

“Dean?” she asked again, trying to catch his attention.

“Yeah?”

“You said ‘your girl’. You think I’m your girl?” She bit her lip, looking up into his bright green eyes.

They filled with something she hadn’t ever seen before, something she couldn’t name, something that looked like, but couldn’t possibly be, love. “Yeah, you are. I mean, if you…”

She didn’t need to hear the end of his sentence, she’d heard enough clique phrases to last her a lifetime. Y/N lifted her hand and placed it gently around the back of his neck, pulling him down as she sat up. Their lips met and the friends turned a corner together. Dean’s hands flew to her face, cupping each cheek between his big fingers. He pulled away and held her there, just looking down into her face. “So, I guess that’s a yes?”

“Just shut up and kiss me Dean.”

The Trickster’s spell had been broken, but her words still took root within him and he complied willingly; pressing their lips together and kissing her like it was the only thing he ever wanted to do.

Forevers: @1-800-misha @amanda-teaches @arryn-nyx @atc74 @autopistaaningunaparte @ayeeitsemry  @bea789 @because-imma-lady-assface @babypieandwhiskey @blanketmadeofstar @brewsthespirit-blog @britt-spn @buckysmetallicstump @bulletscrossbowpie @charliebradbury1104 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @chelsea072498 @cici0507 @clairese1980 @collectivekiera @cosmicpeanuthologram @createdbybadappreciation @cyrilconnelly @dannnyphantomm @deanxfuckingadorablexwinchester @demonangelimpala @docharleythegeekqueen @dustycelt @evyiione​ @faithfulpanicmoon @feelmyroarrrr​ @flowermisha​ @freaksforthewin​ @frenchybell @fuckyeahfeysand @gemini75eeyore @ghostkitty1103 @hamartiamacguffin @impalaimagining @im-super-potter-locked @inmysparetime0 @jpadjackles @jotink78 @kristaparadowski @kas-not-cas @katrodriguez99 @lavendellove @love-kittykat21 @luciisthebest @maddieburcham1 @mamaredd123 @mogaruke @megafrontliner311 @megansescape @mija-novella @milkymilky-cocopuff @mogaruke @mrsbatesmotel53 @mrswhozeewhatsis @my-life-is-here-soo @myfand0msandm0re @mysteriouslyme81 @naadestiel @notesfromalabprincess @notnaturalanahi @obi-wan-my-only-ho @pain-of-artifice @percussiongirl2017 @percywinchester27 @petrovadixon @pinknerdpanda @poukothenerd @riddikulus-obsessions @riversong-sam @sam-winchesters-long-locks @scxrchy @smoothdogsgirl @spectaculicious @spontaneousam @summer-binging-spn @superbasementflower @supernaturallymarvellous @supernaturalyobessed @tennesseewhiskey-and-pie @thecynicalnerd @the-latina-trickster @therewillbeblood @tom-is-in-my-tardis @typicalweirdbookworm @thegreatficmaster @vine-colored-assbutt @whatareyousearchingfordean @wi-deangirl77 @wvnchxstxr @xxthevampirediariesexpertxx @yearoftheweasley @youtubehelpsmesurvive @yvngkinggchristyy

The Dean’s List:  @anokhi07 @assbutt-fan @bringmesomepie56 @deadinside-muser @deangirl-withanimpala @delessapeace-blog @ellexirmalfoy @just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms @leather-moccasin-hero @msdooos @mskitty416 @ruprecht0420 @soullessbabee  @tmccarney @torn-and-frayed @twoboys-and-afallenangel @vesperlady04

#500Doitlikedeanchallenge #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean winchester #crack #fluff #angst #silly #case #supernatural fanfiction