a crippling blow,

[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes deal me a crippling blow

[atrb=width,120] tag: charlotte words: 1812 notes: wow, that ended up being a LOT longer than i intended xD i got inspired with back story. lol! credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] porter had given up long ago trying to win a battle with his father. andrew middleton was hardheaded and stubborn, both traits his son had inherited, and they often knocked heads. porter had lived in the shadow of his siblings his entire life, so he'd always been the clown, the cut up, in the family. essentially, all he'd wanted was attention that he never got. being a bad kid seldom got him the attention he felt he deserved, but sometimes he'd been successful. his father would yell at him, porter would enjoy the sparse moments when the man was actually looking at him instead of through him, and then they would go back to not talking again. raleigh, andrew jr, and savannah would occupy his time with their achievements and porter would stumble around the city getting hammered and screwed until their next encounter. leading this type of life was what had driven him to move to new york in an attempt to make a relationship with his father once and for all. he'd tried, he really had. he'd even become the honorary vice president of the firm for a while, and he'd done a good job. he'd sobered up and taken the job seriously. then had come the test. when he'd been assigned a businesswoman to shmooze, porter had assumed his father had done so because he knew what his son was good at. so, he'd transformed into his old self in an attempt to woo her over to their side of the bargain so his father could win the biggest business deal of his career. the night he was going to 'seal the deal' still burned sharply, like an after image, in his mind, and that was precisely the reason why he was fuming as he entered the lobby of the ritz on the outskirts of town. andrew had summoned him here supposedly to make amends for his actions, but porter doubted it. it had been a year since he'd spoken with his father, and out of nowhere the old man wanted to bond? porter wasn't that stupid. sure, part of him wished it was true and even toyed with the idea that it might be - maybe his father had finally come to understand and love him after all? - but a larger part of him knew such an outlandish dream was too good to be true. andrew middleton never did anything unless it benefited him, and bonding with his youngest son wasn't unique. the desk clerks behind the registry desk smiled and waved at him - he frequented the high class hotel when he didn't want to take a girl home and brought her here to a neutral location - but he was too angry to notice. the closer he got to the room his father had rented, the angrier he grew. he could see himself all over again, walking into his new york apartment with the businesswoman holding his hand, taking her clothes off and pushing her down onto the bed... the pain was still there. gritting his teeth together as he entered the elevator and ordered the porter to take him to the fifteenth floor, he fumed silently to himself and the porter knew better than to attempt conversation. pushing his hands into the pockets of his gray suit, porter shifted his weight back and forth and watched the numbers ticking as the memories continued unabashedly in his mind. it was a week after the night he'd slept with the woman, and his father called him into his office. when he entered, the flatscreen tv his father often watched the news on was flickering in the corner. instead of speaking when porter entered, andrew pointed at the screen where an entertainment news show was blazing to life. on the screen, he slowly recognized himself in all of his nude glory - the best parts pixelated out for national television - rolling around on the bed with the 'businesswoman' from a week before. like all of his flings, porter had forgotten it had even happened until now when he realized, to his chagrin, she had somehow managed to film them having sex. then, as he looked to his father, he'd been surprised to see the man wasn't surprised. he had expected this behavior out of his son, the one son who was notorious for such actions. and then the reality hit him like a ton of bricks. his father had been the one to set it all up. he'd purposefully caught his son and blared it on television for the world to see to teach him a lesson - and to humiliate him. andrew admitted as much when he explained the business deal, the woman, everything had been a scam he had set up to test porter: to see just how committed to the business he really was. porter had failed. the elevator pinged at the fiffteenth floor, and porter dazedly strode out into the hallway. finding his bearings, he moved toward the hotel room with a purpose. his ice blue eyes smoldered in fury as he approached the door and took a deep breath to calm himself. raising his hand, he knocked, and his father's butler - leave it to the pompous ass to bring the help along on a roadtrip - opened the door to admit him. pushing rudely past the man, porter strode proudly into the main room of the massive suite and came face-to-face with his father. thankfully, he'd been steeling himself against this first encounter after a year, and he was only momentarily taken back by the impressive man. andrew middleton was sturdily built for a man of his age, and he was an imposing figure. and the one trait which none of his children had except one - porter - was the one trait that often made people look twice at him. andrew had pale blue, cutting eyes like his son. porter, however, refused to be cowed by him. he let his fury do the work of burning away any fear he felt in his father's presence. "how dare you..." porter began, his voice tight with anger. he pointed a finger at his father's chest but refused to close the distance between them. it was all he could do not to stride forward and punch the older man in his face. "did you come to my city to threaten me? didn't you have enough fun destroying me on public television?!" he fumed, his anger so great now that he couldn't continue talking as his throat closed up with emotion. he never allowed people to see how he really felt, and this was precisely the reason. andrew rolled his eyes, an action that made porter even more furious, and crossed his arms over his broad chest. "first of all, you do not own this town. i may come and go as a please. unless, by some miracle, you've managed to make a name of your own outside of your trust fund?" seeing porter's jaw clench, andrew smiled knowingly. "as i suspected. secondly, your sex tape was over a year ago now. i forgive you." porter's jaw dropped at the words and he snorted derisively before he could stop himself. "YOU forgive ME?! i should punch you in the-" "be civil, porter gregory middleton." there he went, pulling out the middle name. porter instantly felt like a child again, and he knew he'd been put in his place. despite wanting to argue further, he suddenly realized it was fruitless. balling up his fists but maintaining his self-control, porter closed his eyes briefly before looking his father in the eye with a level gaze. "what do you want? because i have a feeling you didn't come across the country to bond." his father chuckled and reached down to fill a snifter with his favorite brandy, offering porter a glass which he swiftly denied. "you may want it after what i am going to tell you, but that's up to you." seating himself in one of the white-striped armchairs in the room, andrew took a sip from his glass before taking his time to continue. "i am here to offer you the opportunity to redeem yourself for your past." "how benevolent of you..." "i am in the midst of settling a rather large affair with a fellow firm in new york. the company belonged to a widow's deceased husband, and i've convinced her to sell it to me. this will be a very lucrative deal for me. however, this widow has one request for the deal to be sealed. she has one unwedded daughter-" "oh, hell no." "let me finish, young man. you will marry her daughter, make mrs hirth happy, and i will get what i want." porter heard the way his father spoke in the past tense. he knew this deal was already said and done. he had no choice, and it infuriated him further. this was the future of his life they were talking about, and his father was throwing it around like a card in a poker game. besides, he didn't believe in love anyway, so why the hell would he want to get married? it was the last thing on his to-do list, but he somehow knew he had no choice. that grain of him that remained loyal to his father despite all of the shit he'd put him through wouldn't let him turn away from this. his pride had him defeated. as he opened his mouth to argue, he was cut short as the door to the hotel room opened to admit more people and his father stood smoothly as they entered. "so good of you to come, mrs hirth. i have just finished explaining our arrangement with my son, porter. thank you for coming," andrew drolled on as porter felt himself go numb. this couldn't be happening. looking toward the approaching women, all porter could see at first was the older woman. she was attractive for her age, but stern - that much was obvious - and her face was not kind. besides, what kind of woman would demand an arranged marriage for her daughter in today's society? she had to be a bitch. as the older woman moved out of the way, porter's curiosity got the best of him, and he peered at her daughter. as the younger woman came into view, porter thought he would have a heart attack. he recognized her instantly and even as his soul recoiled at the prospect of being chained to her for the rest of his life, his innards caught on fire at the memory of her body. for this was the girl he'd fucked only a week before, and it had been the best lay of his life. "porter, i would like you to meet charlotte. your future wife."

[CHARLOTTE HIRTH]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & YOU'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN ` YOU'RE JUST A LOVELY IDEA OF ONE WHO I ACCIDENTALLY LOVED AND GAVE EVERYTHING TO BECOME THE GIRL ON THE PIANO BENCH SINGING ALL OF HER TEARS - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - away
[atrb=width,240] Charlotte hissed as she felt her hair being tugged by the hairdresser that her mother had hired. Ophelia Hirth had not stopped gobbling about some business deal she had closed and how Charlotte was going to be just thrilled about the outcome. Secretly, Charlotte doubted that but she had learned at a young age that not saying anything was better than saying what she was really thinking. Whatever Ophelia had up her sleeve most likely benefited her and her alone, and Charlotte was just a pawn in the game. That was how it had always been since her last relationship had ended. Countless blind dates with millionaire sons and actors and singers that could heighten Ophelia’s career, and she was the one who could affect the outcome. She hated being a pawn, a emotionless pawn. It was her mother who had created the bitter bitch that was allowing her hair to be pulled out of her skull. It was her mother’s fault that inside, deep down beneath the exteriors, was a girl that wanted to be who she wanted to be. Those dreams were tucked away, tucked so far away that she was sure that she didn’t even know where the vault was. She had been bred to be the perfect little posh girl with the perfect little pressed clothes being the perfect size. It had started when she was five. Charlotte closed her eyes and the memories swarmed her mind like it was yesterday. A little girl bouncing around in pigtails in a ballerina dress, singing her heart out, searching for her hidden mother. A giggle escaped the little girl’s mouth as she bounced into the master bedroom, where she saw her mother reviewing what looked like a magazine. Honestly, the little girl had no idea what her mother did for a living, but she was curious and bounded over to her mother. Ophelia glanced up from the magazine and sighed a hideous sigh. ”Dear God, Charlotte, take off that hideous dress. And stop making that horrendous noise; little girls are supposed to be seen, not heard.” Charlotte flinched at the harsh words and slowly inched her way out of the bedroom, the pink tutu suddenly seeming tacky instead of cute. Fast forward ten years, and fifteen year old Charlotte walked in, her head hung in shame. The dress her mother had bought for her was too tight around her midsection and Ophelia had yelled. How could she have been so careless? Another tug from the hairdresser snapped Charlotte out of her thoughts and out of her dark history. Most people had no idea that she had once been bulimic, if only for a short while. Her mother had snapped her out of it, saying there was no way she was going to raise a daughter who threw up every day. Charlotte’s nanny, Annabeth, had put the girl through rehab one summer, and Ophelia had told everyone her daughter was spending the summer in Paris, perfecting her French. No, gossip on the Hirth family would only bring shame. One of the stylists by her tapped her on the shoulder and mumbled something about having an outfit picked out for her. Charlotte glared at the poor girl before standing up and removing herself from the brushes that were tugging her hair in a horrid manner. Her hair probably looked like a bird’s nest, considering her mother thought bigger was better. If she knew her mother as well as she did, there would be a padded bra somewhere in the dressing room as well, to give her breasts an extra perk. Ah, and it seemed that her assumption was right. Lying right next to the pink blouse and skirt was a push-up bra, which made her cover her chest with her arms. Great, make the girl feel self-conscious. Her mother was begging for a beating, she knew that for a fact. Ophelia was a bigger bitch than she was which truly explained why she was a bitch. Quickly, she slipped on the pink outfit before the tights and the heels. She looked at her reflection in the mirror and very faintly, since she was the only one who was looking, a bruise color was on her neck. A hickey. It had been resting right below her neck for the last week since her last ron de vou. A hand gripped her arm and she opened her mouth to yell at the person who thought they could just grab her arm like no big deal when her brown eyes landed on the large maid, Annabeth. A smile bloomed on her lips and she hugged the woman, glad to see a familiar face. Annabeth hugged her in return and led to the waiting car. ”Be nice to your mother, Ms. Charlotte” Annabeth whispered before gently closing the door behind her. Charlotte’s eyes watched the woman disappear from view before turning to the woman who gave birth to her. That was probably the only thing Charlotte could stand about her mother; the fact that Ophelia had brought her into the world. Ophelia Hirth, once a famous underwear model, looked tired. Charlotte knew her mother worked too much, but she never really had the energy to care. Her mother was a bitch. Ophelia glanced at her daughter before rolling her eyes and turning her attention to the blackberry that was in her hands. The mother’s outfit was simple enough; a black suit, pearl earrings, a pearl necklace and a wedding ring on her left finger. While it was widely known that the Ophelia was single, it did not stop the widowed mother from wearing her wedding ring. The countless flings had not lasted long considering the ring was a reminder of the past. ”Sit up straight, Charlotte. We are meeting very important people today,” Ophelia barked, and Charlotte sat up straight, cursing herself for listening to her mother. She had no backbone when her mother came into the situation, that much was certain. Her hands turned nervously in her lap, wondering why she was assisting her mother on a business deal. A fucking business deal. ”I assume you’re wondering why you’re hear. It’ll all make sense when we get to the Ritz. I need a glass of wine before we go into the lair.” Ophelia smirked at her metaphor before returning to her phone, leaving her daughter with more questions than answers. The car ride continued silently, and Charlotte allowed herself to wonder what was going on. The door came to a complete stop and the door opened seconds later. Charlotte got out and followed her mother inside, where they stopped at the elevator. The elevator was at one of the higher floors and she was sure it would be minutes before she got to the room where she was supposed to go. It was then her mother began to speak. ”Mr. Middleton and I have come across an agreement on one of the businesses we own and I asked for a clause,” her mother began, sipping on a glass of wine that magically appeared in her hand. ”You were the clause in a sense.” ”Just spit it out, mother” Charlotte barked, her eyes focusing on the numbers above the elevator that were slowly decreasing. ”You and Mr. Middleton’s son are engaged to be wed! Isn’t that wonderful?!” Charlotte gaped at her mother, not quite sure where her voice had gone. Marriage? That was complete and utter nonsense. She was a twenty-two year old woman who could make her own decisions. ”Oh hell no!” Her mother rolled her eyes. ”I didn’t ask for your permission, Charlotte. Mr. Middleton is a very successful man who has raised a very successful son. You will get married, because I don’t want my only daughter to be unwed forever, and you will be thankful. After your very public break up with Jason, this will give us great publicity.” Her mother had brought up the J word and Charlotte felt her cheeks fill with color. She followed her mother onto the elevator and the doors closed before she lost it. ”Are you out of your mind?! I’m twenty-two years old, you can’t do this to me! I’m not some pawn in your game, mother!” ”On the contrary, you are. So smile and be happy” Ophelia finished and the doors opened. Ophelia exited the elevator and greeted the secretary with a kiss on the cheek. Charlotte watched her mother before numbly exiting the elevator. Faintly, she could hear voices from the room she would soon be entering and she glared at someone before barking that she needed a glass of champagne. Or four. Someone opened the door and Charlotte followed her mother into the room. From behind her mother, she could see the gentleman that was the one who was ruining her life. He was older, a man that had a stern look on his face and was dressed in perhaps one of the fanciest suits she had ever seen, paired with the worst tie she had ever seen. Ew. She took a sip of her drink before her mother moved out of the way. ”Charlotte, this is Porter, your future husband.” Her eyes were wide as she felt the hand holding the champagne glass fall from her hands as she brought her hand to her neck. The glass shattered and she heard her mother apologize and the father letting off a nervous laugh. Her hand found the mark he had branded her with. Her mouth was open slightly before she closed it, not sure what to say. Charlotte couldn’t exactly admit that the two had met before. The best night of her life was back to haunt her, and she could feel her stomach drop. Now she could feel nervousness from the man who had admitted her did not believe in love, that he didn’t believe in her. ”Pleasure” she said stiffly, holding her hand out.	[atrb=width,140] words , 1656 words tagged , porter middleton notes , here is the outfit and omg these two are going to be priceless! team charter all the way!
[cs=2] TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0

[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes deal me a crippling blow

[atrb=width,120] tag: charlotte words: 1087 notes: ok, that one wasn't as long. sorry bout that. my headache isn't helping matters. lol credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] many things crossed porter's mind as the girl came into focus, and none of them were appropriate to say out loud. his thoughts were so loud on the inside of his head, however, he wondered if his father and charlotte's mother could hear him repeatedly thinking 'oh shit...' thankfully, his father couldn't read his mind - to the best of his knowledge - and he doubted charlotte's mother could either, but by the looks of her, he momentarily wondered if she was some sort of witch. she was an attractive older woman, even if her stern face made her ugly, and for a second porter thought that charlotte would age as well as her mother, and that wouldn't be a bad thing. then, he chided himself for even imagining actually being married to her, even if he had no choice otherwise. if it took the last ounce of his spirit, he would resist this engagement with all of himself. as the champagne glass shattered to the floor, porter and charlotte were the only two people in the room who didn't flinch. he was staring at her, and she was staring at him, her hand going to the place on her neck he distinctly remembered kissing and sucking on over and over again a week ago... no, he couldn't think about that. he had to get as far away from those memories as he could. he couldn't remember the feel of her skin, hot and sticking to his, and he couldn't remember the feeling of ecstasy he'd felt everytime... no. he refused to give in to those thoughts. now, she was the enemy: the reason his freedom was soon to be choked off. soon enough, the rest of the room recovered, and porter was able to break his gaze away from hers. taking a deep breath, he looked down at the floor and then over to where his father's brandy bottle stood on the small table. andrew had been right, he needed a drink. filling his glass as his father and mrs hirth began chatting each other up, porter tried to sort out his thoughts. he found his gaze looking at charlotte again, noting how dazed she looked. he imagined he looked similar, but he reminded himself he wasn't her friend. sure, they'd fucked - and that was the only word he could use for what had transpired between them since it certainly wasn't 'making love' - but that didn't mean he had to be nice to her. most women he slept with were forgotten the next day, and for a moment, he'd believed he could forget her. his mind had been on thoughts of her since that night, however, just as he'd worried would happen. he couldn't forget the pure bliss he'd felt with her, and he didn't think he would. even so, he was now in enemy territory. however, she didn't seem willing to expose their tryst anymore than he did, so he was safe on that front at least. what happened between them would remain in the past. what happens in vegas stays in vegas, or something like that. as their parents introduced them, porter forced himself to smile as he'd been trained to do as a youngster. although he'd thrown his family's values and beliefs in etiquette aside, he still knew how to conduct himself. he'd always been a gentleman, despite what the press believed. "pleasure indeed," porter replied to charlotte's comment, his ice blue eyes sparking with a hidden meaning without his permission. it certainly had been pleasure with her. everything about her had been pleasurable to him. but this was not. "very well..." andrew interjected in the awkward silence. reaching into his jacket pocket, he withdrew the dreaded little black box and handed it openly to porter. as it plopped down into his palm, porter stared at it like it was a snake about to bite him. he knew what was in that box, and he didn't want it. he wanted to throw it back in his father's face. glancing up at charlotte, he caught sight of her mother who smiled as if she'd just won a marathon. the look sickened him, and he instantly hated the woman, almost feeling sympathy for charlotte that she'd had to grow up with the woman. andrew coughed, cluing porter into what they were all waiting for. numb, walking like a zombie with the jewelry box still held in front of him like some sort of shield, porter moved past the armchairs and stood in front of charlotte. flashbacks to that night one week ago hit him like a wall as he looked into her face in the bright lights of the hotel suite. stiffly, he fell to one knee as if he'd been pushed by the strength of his father's glare alone, and he held the box over his head and stared at her waistline where her shirt and skirt met and where his hands had roamed only days before. swallowing heavily, he had to force his voice over the frog that had taken up a home in his throat. "charlotte... will you... will you marry me?" he managed, his voice weak. he was surprised he'd been able to say it at all. his father harumphed with pleasure, and porter felt the sting of recognition that he craved so much. he knew he was loyal to a fault when it came to his father, and his desire to get the old man's approval was unhealthy in an extreme, but he couldn't help it. years of being pushed aside and unnoticed had turned him into this... this shell. this was not how he'd imagined himself proposing when he got married. well, first off, he'd never imagined himself proposing period, but if he had then he would have come up with a scenario much better. he would have asked on the top of the eiffel tower or on some private island in the caribbean, not in the middle of some hotel room lit like a hospital with his father and future mother-in-law presiding over the event afraid he'd bolt at any moment. he didn't want to be married. he didn't believe in love, and he'd told charlotte as much before he realized she was going to be his... fiancee. the word sent a shiver of sickness down his spine as he continued kneeling, waiting for her response to his proposal. he was engaged, or would be as soon as she said yes. his life was over.

[CHARLOTTE HIRTH]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & YOU'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN ` YOU'RE JUST A LOVELY IDEA OF ONE WHO I ACCIDENTALLY LOVED AND GAVE EVERYTHING TO BECOME THE GIRL ON THE PIANO BENCH SINGING ALL OF HER TEARS - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - away
[atrb=width,240] She could feel his fingers taunting her skin, his breath leaving mist on her neck. Charlotte, however, needed to stop thinking about him naked and the way he made her body feel. He was enemy number one. Porter deserved to be the gum on her shoes, the yellow skittle, the white crayon; the reject in short. Sure, it wasn’t truly his fault for their predicament-that was her mother’s and his father’s-but she couldn’t exactly say anything to them. Porter would just have to deal with the wrath of her anger; there was no way to get around that factor. But as his icy blue eyes gazed at her, she couldn’t help but be struck with just how attractive he was. His brown bangs fell right in front of his blue eyes, his crooked grin and his pearly white teeth having the ability to melt millions of hearts and his muscular body. Oh god, she could feel her body reacting to his appearance as it was. But Charlotte knew he had a cocky interior that much was sure. Charlotte watched his eyes go to her neck and she felt herself blush even more, wondering if he was remembering the night. Probably not, the cocky bastard. He probably had dozens of girls bowing at his feet. Her mind wandered to when the engagement became public; there was no way Porter, of all people, would stop sleeping around. Internally, she cringed at the thought. He would throw her name into the gossip columns, not with positive things, but with negatives. Her name would be soiled just because Porter was someone who needed his sexual fix. Obviously she would too, but she wouldn’t be sleeping around. Maybe he would want to sleep with her…her thoughts disappeared to their sweaty bodies intertwined, the noises, the kisses, the touches. No. She would not give him the satisfaction about what had happened. It wasn’t worth it. Quietly, Charlotte stepped backwards and allowed maids to clean up the mess she had created. Her eyes closed and she looked at her mother, not quiet believing what was going on. This had to be a joke; seriously. There was no way her mother was going to force her to get married. That was so seventeen hundreds, and this was two thousand and eleven. No one besides the royals did this, and Kate Middleton was a commoner. Seriously? If Prince William didn’t have to marry some snobby princess, why did she have to marry a conceited rich boy? It made no sense, but she kept the harsh words to herself. Her eyes slid to his and were calmed that he looked just as dazed and confused as she was as he grabbed some brandy. Thank god she wasn’t alone. Sure, it didn’t matter much because she would hate him and confess this to him as soon as the ‘adults’ left, but whatever. It meant that Porter wasn’t too thrilled about this idea either. Charlotte sighed and glanced at her mother, who was making a fuss over the champagne still. It didn’t matter too much; it was just a glass breaking in a hotel room that would probably never get this much action ever again. But Charlotte swallowed her pride and gave a small smile to Mr. Middleton. ”Sorry about the glass.” she said, and he responded with an ‘it’s alright’ thing. Without realizing it, she could feel her body working its way towards him. She leaned closer and wanted to whisper all the dirty things that were running through her mind. She couldn’t help it; she was attracted to him. But Mr. Middleton let out a chuckle and Charlotte pulled away. ”It seems as though they’re bonding already!” Ophelia shrilled, a giggle escaping her mouth. Charlotte rolled her eyes, the truth almost escaping her lips, but she bit her bottom lip hard. No. There was no way the truth was ever going to get out. It seemed ridiculous that she even had the notion to tell the truth. Mr. Middleton pulled the velvet box out of his pocket and placed the box in the younger man’s hand. Charlotte almost cried, not from happiness, but from disappointment. There would never be a happy proposal, never a moment where she realized that true love did exist. No, she was getting married to someone who didn’t want to be around her and in front of her mother. All she wanted was to go home and sleep forever and ignore the pain that was rushing through her veins. Porter looked sick just looking at the box. That defiantly was not what she wanted. She wanted the man to actually ask for her hand in marriage because he wanted to marry her. Not because he was being forced. She wanted him to plan the whole proposal and feel nervous, not to feel dread. Marriage was supposed to be the next big journey, and right now, Charlotte could feel the chains being chained to her feet. This unity between businesses seemed silly and it seemed so old fashion. Her stomach dropped as the words left his mouth, weak words filled with dispare. Behind her, she heard her mother huff in annoyance, and Charlotte could only imagine what was going through her mother’ s mind. It was probably something of disgust and how Porter was not really trying and how this was a big mistake. Charlotte would totally be ok if the engagement was called off. ”Yes” she said, throwing confidence in her voice. She was not going to sounds weak. No, she was going to sound strong and as though this was the thrill of her life. The ring was placed on her finger and she was glad it was pretty. At least they had enough money for a nice fat ring. It was probably worth a pretty penny. Charlotte wouldn’t be poor any time soon, which was a good thing she guessed. She knew she could never deal with being poor. Poor was not even in her vocabulary. Sure, she did charity work, but that was different. Ophelia squealed with delight before ushering Mr. Middleton out of the room, claiming the love birds needed a moment. The door slammed a moment later and an awkward pause came over her. Quietly, she went over to the bottle of brandy and poured herself a small amount. ”We are not speaking of the other night with our parents. I am making that crystal clear.” she said, turning and glaring at him. ”You will not be getting my name or your name in bad press. I have worked hard making a good name for myself and I am not going to allow a cocky bastard to change that.”	[atrb=width,140] words , 1118 words tagged , porter middleton notes , here is the outfit it's not too epic, sorry if it disappoints!
[cs=2] TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0

[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes deal me a crippling blow

[atrb=width,120] tag: charlotte words: 842 notes: i was thinking maybe charlotte could grab him and try to stop him and they could have a 'moment' (; it's up to you though hee hee i'm loving this! credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] he knelt on the floor like a prisoner lowering his head over the chopping block. any moment and the axe would fall, dealing the deathblow. "yes." the axe clunked into position and porter's life was over. his eyes opened - for he found he'd been squeezing them tightly shut in hopes if he held his eyes closed long enough he would wake up from this horrid nightmare - and widened and he heard mrs hirth squeal like a schoolgirl. he realized he should be reacting instead of still kneeling on the floor like some retard, so he smoothly slid to his feet and pulled the ring out of the box, forcing it roughly onto charlotte's hand in an attempt to get it off of his person as quickly as possible. she gazed at it like any girl would, he supposed, but he looked away, searching for his brandy. as he stepped toward it and the old widow quibbled about what flowers would be in the wedding and something about doves, his father caught his arm, surprising him when he realized he'd almost forgotten the old bastard's presence in the midst of his own suffering. andrew looked at him sternly, but there was a pleasant smile on his face for the benefit of mrs hirth and his future daughter-in-law. porter didn't hide his hatred for the man as he stood still and stared him down. "good work, son." it was like he'd just made straight a's in school or passed the sat, not like he'd just proposed to his fiance. the reality of this backwards situation landed on him like a five ton whale, and he didn't respond, only swallowed the lump in his throat and forced his brandy glass to his mouth to down the rest of the liquid in one gulp. damn, now he needed more alcohol. before he could reach the bottle, however, he heard mrs hirth squeal again and usher his father from the room, professing the two youngsters needed a little time alone. shitdamnfuck. he almost dropped his empty brandy snifter but managed to keep a hold over it. he knew his face was probably ten shades of green from how nauseous he was feeling over the whole situation, but he managed to turn and offer weak smile at their parents as they disappeared, taking the servants with them, none too discretely. suddenly, charlotte pounced on him, and her nearness assaulted his mind with visions of their passionate rendezvous the weekend before. "We are not speaking of the other night with our parents. I am making that crystal clear. You will not be getting my name or your name in bad press. I have worked hard making a good name for myself and I am not going to allow a cocky bastard to change that," she hissed at him, and he saw her mother in her for the briefest of moments. all the bitch cared about was her image and self-importance, and porter had already screwed his so far to hell he no longer gave a damn. all of the stress and pressure of the last twenty minutes couldn't be contained any longer. porter laughed at her. leaning over to pick up the brandy container, he poured himself another glass - filling it far higher than was socially acceptable - as he chuckled. taking a sip before looking back at her, he swallowed and smiled his renegade smile. it was a dangerous smile, another trait he'd inherited from his father, and it spoke volumes about how very little he was willing to give to her. he would not be ruled by a woman. "you'd have to be insane to believe i would ever tell my father we've already slept together, and i just don't know your mother well enough to tell her such secrets." he winked and snorted amusedly. sure, he shouldn't be joking at a time like this, but it was his defense mechanism. he took another sip from his brandy and continued, "and how do you have any right to call me a cocky bastard, honey, when all you know of me is my dick? sure, i may be one, but that doesn't give you any right to say it." widening his eyes and pursing his lips derisively, he downed the rest of the glass and felt his head suddenly go woosy. damn, that was some strong shit. planting a hand on the nearest armchair, he attempted a glare but probably failed in his tipsy state. he hadn't been drunk since a year before when the sex tape had come out, but now seemed like a perfectly good opportunity to do so. "well, i guess i should go get started on embarrassing you in public," he joked, taking a step toward the door and not giving a damn if he was gone when their parents returned. he wanted to be as far from here as possible when andrew came back. next time, he'd know better than to answer the phone when the old bastard called him.

[CHARLOTTE HIRTH]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,10,true][atrb=style, background-color: #423c42;,true][cs=2] & YOU'RE NOT EVEN HUMAN ` YOU'RE JUST A LOVELY IDEA OF ONE WHO I ACCIDENTALLY LOVED AND GAVE EVERYTHING TO BECOME THE GIRL ON THE PIANO BENCH SINGING ALL OF HER TEARS - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - away
[atrb=width,240] Charlotte felt her cheeks flushed. Really? Really? He was going to joke around as though they were old friends? No. Charlotte refused to be laughed at. This situation was not truly ideal for her, and obviously not for Porter, but she needed ground rules. She needed to make sure that they were both on the same page, and he was making a mockery out of her rules. Her eyes glanced from the glass of too much brandy to his crystal blue eyes. She knew who he was; he was a Casanova, a man who got whatever he wanted when wanted it. Sure, she was a spoiled brat who got what she wanted, but at least she pretended to care. Charlotte wanted to make the best of her life and to make sure that people thought highly of her or, well, the public at least. She knew for a fact already that the majority of the rich population couldn’t stand her, but she couldn’t stand the majority of the elite population either. As Porter continued with what he deemed as a witty response, Charlotte watched him intently. He had to be so unhappy with his life and who he was as a person that he needed to tear everyone else down. Part of her felt sympathy for his unhappiness, while the majority of her couldn’t care less. He wasn’t making this a walk in the part at all. ”Excuse me for assuming what you would and wouldn’t tell your father. I don’t keep tabs on you.” she responded turning to face the window. The window overlooked the city below and she felt herself bloom with hope. Maybe she and Porter could get a divorce and she could just remarry in a year or two. They could be the next Kim Kardasian and Kris Humphrey, only more attractive and richer. Of course, it would last longer than seventy-two days, probably a hundred minimum, but that was alright. It was just to make her mother and his father happy for the time being before the adults got bored ruining their children’s life. ”I’m just speaking the truth, sweetheart,” she said sweetly, venom dripping from her voice. Porter was a self-centered asshole, and she was sure that the articles she had read in the press were correct most of the time. As he pursed his lips, she couldn’t help but look at the lips that had once caressed her body nights before. That night was supposed to be tucked far away in her mind, but she couldn’t help but remember everything. He was attractive, she was attractive, and they had sex. There wasn’t much to the equation and she couldn’t do much to pretend that nothing had happened. It wouldn’t work like that. Her mind had been replaying the night hundreds of times, and Charlotte had hoped she would run into him again, just not as her future husband. Charlotte’s eyes widened as she watched him think he could just leave right now. No, no one dismissed him. Ok, that was a little extreme, but she was not done talking to him. ”We aren’t done with his discussion, Porter!” she hissed as she pushed him into the wall. His body hit the wall with a thud, and for a moment, she hoped she hadn’t hurt him. And then she realized where she was. Her hands were on his muscular chest and she could feel his heartbeat underneath the silk shirt. Her brown eyes met his, and she suddenly felt the attraction that had been there days before. All Charlotte wanted to do was press her lips against his and have him ravish her against the wall, but she didn’t. His cologne filled her nose and she sighed before shaking out of her enchantment. ”I hate you. I really do. You are the reason I no longer have a life. I hope you’re happy.” Charlotte could feel his breath against her skin and if she moved just a little closer, their lips would touch.	[atrb=width,140] words , 669 words tagged , porter middleton notes , here is the outfit super short >.< sorry about that. the next one will be better, i promise!
[cs=2] TEMPLATE BY CALIFORNIA DREAMING OF CAUTION 2.0

[PORTER MIDDLETON]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=style, width: 400px; height: 600px; background: #e3e3e3; border: 2px dotted #ffffff;,true][cs=2]   I scrambled online and I know that I Will never be calm and well But I can get by in the meantime By myself Deal me a crippling blow Steal me from under my clothes deal me a crippling blow

[atrb=width,120] tag: charlotte words: 1237 notes: bahaha sooo perfect <3 credit: eliza @ sp

[atrb=width,250] charlotte's voice was grating on his nerves which were already raw and bleeding from the torture of the afternoon. he rolled his eyes as she came back at him with some witty retort that he successfully ignored through the fuzz of his tipsiness. at least he was already getting good at one aspect of this marriage thing: tuning her out. maybe if he stayed drunk the whole time they were married, however long that may be, he could deal with it. it wasn't like having children was part of the deal... at least not yet. he sure hoped it never came up. getting married was bad enough. cloning himself was even scarier. glancing over at charlotte, he had to admit the thought of having sex with her again was exceptionally appealing, but... no. he would not reproduce with her. she was clearly an entitled bitch used to getting whatever she wanted, except when her mother wanted something else. in many ways, they were alike... no, he chided himself. he would not find similarities between the two of them. they were not on the same team. it was him against her. if he had to get married, it would not be a happy arrangement. from the moment he stood at the altar - drunk and high, hopefully - until his dying day, he would make her life and living hell. regrettably, as he watched her speaking to him like he was a bad dog instead of her fiance, he couldn't help but notice the positioning of her hips or the way her mouth danced over the words she spewed at him. he knew, then, he would never get the feel of her out of his mind. their first night together was branded into his memories no matter how hard he worked to remove it. no, no matter how unhappy their union was, he would never forget that night. his hand clenched around his glass in a powerful mixture of anger and lust that he couldn't control. he was a guy, damn it. lust was like his sixth sense. closing his eyes, shaking his head, porter placed the empty brandy snifter on the table beside the bottle and moved past her to leave the room. he had to get as far from here as he could. thankfully, the butler and maids had departed with their parents so there was no one to stop him leaving. except for charlotte. just as he was about to get to the door, he felt her slender hands grab him with a strength which surprised him. granted, he could have easily shrugged her off if he'd been sober, but he wasn't. therefore, she easily pushed him against the wall, banging his head in the process, which sent a storm of dancing sparkles across his vision. shaking his head to clear his eyesight, he glared at her, this time succeeding. "yes, we are," he responded to her adamant refusal to end their argument. "i am very much done with this conversation." he would have pushed out of her grasp then and there if he hadn't looked into her eyes by accident. his defenses dropped and her hands on his chest suddenly felt hot against his skin. flashbacks to the night in the club assailed him yet again, and he forced himself to take a deep breath. something flickered in her eyes also, and for a moment he knew beyond a doubt that she hadn't forgotten any more than he had, but the look was gone as quickly as it came. "I hate you. I really do. You are the reason I no longer have a life. I hope you’re happy," she snapped, her voice hissing into his face as she leaned toward him. he could smell the sweetness of her over his own cologne, and the scent attacked him like he was a bug beneath a flyswatter. his biceps tensed as he tried desperately to resist the urge to reach out and grab her into his arms, taking her all over again as he had a week before. he clenched his fists and forced himself to glare at her, trying so hard not to melt into those feelings. maybe getting drunk hadn't been such a good idea after all. he didn't have control over himself, and he hated that. his body was being disobedient. "you had no life before i came along, princess," he hissed right back at her, using his anger to cover the lust that turned his voice husky and clenched at his throat. "you can hate me for the rest of my life for all i care. then, we'd have something in common. i don't need a little prima donna like you ordering me around." even as he said the hateful words, he wanted desperately to kiss her. his body tensed in the mixture of anticipation and denial and he pressed his head back into the wallpaper to resist. they were alone... no one would bother them for a while yet by his guess. he could push her away and be gone before anyone would know. but even as he reached out to grab her hips to push her away from him, his fingers dug into her flesh, refusing to let him release her. the lust took him over, fueled by his frustration and fury from the afternoon, and he pulled her hips against his just as he'd done the time before. his better judgement still managed to stay alive long enough for him to realize he couldn't have her to the fullest extent his body really wanted her with their parents waiting in the next room over, so he went with the next best option. freeing his hands, he grasped her face with a firmness born out of desire, and he kissed her hard and passionately, cutting off any words she was speaking. the kiss released all of the tension and his body relaxed, even if he wanted more of her than he was allowed or than he would allow himself, as he deepened the kiss. he could hardly breathe from the heady sensations washing over him, but he continued to kiss her until he thought he would pass out. finally, he released her and pulled back, looking almost shocked as he looked into her face, the lust still burning in his gaze even as revulsion swept over him. how could he betray himself like this? he was supposed to hate her, this embodiment of his life's torment, but he stood here wanting her so badly he thought he might melt into a little puddle of porter goo. suddenly, however, before he had the chance to put words to his actions or even to thrust her away from him, he heard a voice back within the room. "it appears they have bonded as we'd hoped, ophelia," came his father's booming voice, a hint of pride in his tone as if porter had finally done something right. stunned from both the kiss and the sudden audience, porter turned and gave his father a dumb look. andrew was beaming with pride, something porter had never before seen and regrettably, relished in. the look stunned him even further and all he could do was let his arms fall numbly to his sides as he stepped away from charlotte, embarrassed for the first time, in his life, that he'd been caught kissing a girl.