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btswrckd · 3 years

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War of Hearts

Mafia Boss!Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Summary: Being in an arranged marriage with Kim Taehyung does not mean you have to be civil. Or make his life easy.

Warnings: mentions of violence, slight angst, mentions of weapons such as guns and knives, brief mention of smut, future smut

A/N: I wanted to post this as a one-shot, but naturally, I couldn’t condense it enough. There’s just too much that can’t be left out. But the good news is that I’m about 90% done with this fic and should be able to post it in maybe 3 parts. Enjoy guys!

Also, title is inspired by War of Hearts by Ruelle. Go listen to her music, it’s amazing!

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“You’re asking me to do what, now?” you hiss through clenched teeth, fingers curling into the underside of the armrest of the boarding room chair. How your idiot cousins managed to both purchase a rather nice building in the middle of the city, and run a legitimate business as a cover to their true nature, is a mystery to you. Yet here you are, ten seconds from launching yourself across the table to strangle either one of them.

“I don’t believe I stuttered,” Joongki is confident in the way he answers you and buttons his suit jacket. “And I didn’t ask you to do anything, I’m telling you what’s going to happen.”

Your eyes flicker to Jeonghan as he stands by his brother and nervously stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He catches your eye, licking his busted lip as you raise an eyebrow, as if waiting for him to confirm what Joongki just said. You watch his hand come up to rub at his sore jaw and get some satisfaction as he works his jawbone back and forth.

Joongki lets out a heavy sigh as his brother all but whimpers under your gaze. He was well aware of how much you’d fight their men in getting you to the building, but he wasn’t prepared for the strong swing of your fist, or the nearly deafening sound of said fist cracking his younger brother across the face.

“We’re all each other has,” Jeonghan finally pipes up after deducing that his jaw was not broken. “This is for your own safety, Y/N. I don’t like it any more than you do but there’s no other option.”

“I will not be thrown under lock and key just because you two have enemies.” You’re standing before either of them can argue. “I didn’t ask for this! For you two to be who you are and making my life more difficult than it already is!”

Joongki scratches at his brow when a mop of messily done up chestnut hair pops up over the cubicle wall separating her from the boarding room. He waves his secretary away with a slight twitch of his lips, watching the flushing of her cheeks and bobbing of her head before it disappears. He’s too busy smirking down at his feet to notice the way you swing around the chair. Or the way Jeonghan desperately reaches to stop you from storming out. What he does notice is the small ‘oomph’ leaving your mouth when you stumble into somebody, and suddenly he’s brought back to the importance of the situation.

You don’t expect to be stopped, you certainly don’t expect to be stopped by a firm chest and steadying hand on your hip. When you finally catch your bearings, you blink up at the man that had somehow walked into the room without making a sound. It’s with a heavy heart that you recognize this man despite having lost contact with him years ago. You were children when you’d last met so it takes you a minute to see him clearly, your eyes roving all over his face. Starting with what used to be his bouncy black locks that were now replaced with slicked down hair, to the never changing intensity of his dark brown eyes, down to the defined jaw that used to harbor a little bit of cute chub, and finally back up to his plush lips that split into a grin.

“You,” you breathe airily and your stunned reaction only makes his smile grow wider.

“You,” he mimics and tilts his head playfully, eyebrows raised high in mock surprise. “It’s nice to see you too, princess.”

“Mr. Kim,” Joongki reluctantly smiles while extending his hand to greet his rival, fingers tensing around the man’s answering hand. “Thank you for coming. I’m aware that my brother and I are asking a lot from you and that this situation isn’t exactly ideal for either party, but I just want to thank you for helping us out.”

“I never said this situation wasn’t ideal for me.” Kim Taehyung gave one final squeeze to Joongki’s hand before slipping it into the pocket of his pants. His other hand remains firm on your hip, the heat from his palm burning through the denim of your jeans and making your breath hitch. “I believe my father’s been hoping to merge our families for quite some time. I look at this as an opportunity rather than a ‘situation’.”

“Yes, well.” Joongki shifts uncomfortably on his feet. The Kim family had great influence over 90% of the city and before your grandfather’s passing, Mr. Kim had high hopes of taking two entities and making them one strong force. With your grandfather’s death came the need for new leadership and it fell heavily on Joongki’s shoulders. To say he’d snubbed the Kim family when it came to working together would be putting it lightly. “It seems your father will be getting exactly as he’s always wanted.”

Jeonghan thrusts an elbow to his older brother’s arm. He may not understand the magnitude of being a leader, but he knows when to play nice, and this moment called for practically kneeling down and kissing the Kim family’s feet. He looks to the way you stand stiff in Taehyung’s arms and the curling of your fingers against his suit vest. For a moment, he considers calling the entire thing off and convincing his brother to find another way to keep you safe. He opens his mouth to do just that when Taehyung speaks.

“I have every intention of keeping Y/N safe, be it from whoever is threatening you, my own family, or even you two.” Taehyung’s deep voice rumbles in his chest as his hand pulls you ever so slightly closer. “My father may have wanted this for some time, but believe me when I say that I’ve wanted it longer. Nothing and no one will hurt her, I promise you that.”

Jeonghan and Joongki share a concerned glance with each other before your voice breaks the silence.

“Kim Taehyung.” His name sounds foreign coming from your mouth. The last time you’d seen him you were being carted away by your parents at the age of 10. The sudden announcement of your family’s move left you waving to a chubby cheeked, teary eyed Taehyung as your father pulled away from your childhood home. They died not soon after and you were taken under the care of your grandfather along with Joongki and Jeonghan. But even after your grandfather reestablished a relationship with the Kim family, you hadn’t seen Taehyung again since that day.

“Princess,” he husks out, eyes dropping to your lips and thumb stroking your hip in soothing circles as if it were going to help any. Something dark is swirling in your eyes as you regard him, and he’s sure you don’t recognize it as lust but he does. He sees it fester and simmer before you blink it away and sneer up at him.

You cousins simultaneously wince as you draw back and take one quick strike to Taehyung, kneeing him in the groin with a huff before you stomp out of the room. When Taehyung slumps to the floor with a pain filled groan, Joongki feels a bit of sympathy for him. Your temper and raging need to fight against anything and everything to do with this life will be a daily struggle. Jeonghan coughs to hide his laugh as Taehyung’s right hand man looks torn between helping his boss, or chasing you down to make sure you don’t get too far. This will certainly be entertaining to watch.

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“Let go of me!” you grunt out as Taehyung adjusts your frame on his shoulder. You’re kicking and pounding against his back with the hopes of getting free and escaping, but those hopes are dashed when he tosses you on the mattress of the master bedroom. You scramble back against the headboard as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt and rolls up the sleeves. The frustrated roll of his shoulders and neck is undoubtedly sexy, but it also serves as a reminder that you aren’t meant to find him attractive. At all. As you curse yourself for even thinking as much, he’s snatching your ankles and dragging you down the bed.

Taehyung would never hurt you, he knows that you know that, but watching the small bit of fear flitting across your face has him smirking down at you. He plants both hands on either side of your head to cage you in, hips pressed to yours as you unconsciously widen them to accommodate his frame. “If you wanted to go out, princess, then you could have asked. Jungkookie and Jimin would gladly drive you wherever you want to go.”

“Even away from you?” You glare at him, panic washing over you when you feel the bed dip and he’s on his knees, the added weight pulling you closer to him. His arms slide forward until his nose grazes yours. He’s so close that he could kiss you and you think he’s going to until his nose skims down the length of your neck instead.

“There is no getting away from me, princess,” he whispers against your skin. “I’d think you’d know that by now. You’ve been trying to run from me for the last 6 months and it’s gotten you nowhere.”

You’d beg to differ, Being underneath him was surprisingly pleasant. The push of his hips against yours made you gasp and arch into his chest. You slam your eyes shut to get ahold of yourself, silently reciting your mantra of ‘I’m not a horny teenager, I’m a grown woman, and I am not attracted to my husband’.

Taehyung could smell the sweet scent of berries on your skin from that damn bottle of lotion you love so much. He didn’t think it was possible to be jealous of an inanimate object but he is. He’s also tempted to throw the stupid thing away and burn down every Bath and Body Works store so you can’t get another one. The image of your hands slathering the cream up and down your smooth legs makes him groan and push against you a little harder. He likes to think he isn’t some creep who forces himself on a girl, and if you weren’t so responsive, he wouldn’t even touch you without permission.

A lot of men in their line of work didn’t think consent was an issue, some of them even found the fight to be a turn on, and you’re grateful that Taehyung‘s not that kind of man. In fact, he’d said on several occasions that he wouldn’t come closer than necessary if you weren’t okay with it. He even went as far as sleeping in one of the many guest rooms in the house, dropping the one and only key to the master bedroom in your hand so only you had access to it. This went on for 2 months before you’d lashed out and tried sneaking off for a night out with friends. Naturally Taehyung had hunted you down and dragged you back to the house, lecturing you on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone where you’d be. The next morning his things had been moved into the room and he invaded every inch of your space every chance he got.

You didn’t want to admit that waking up to his face inches from yours was something you’d easily gotten used to, but then again you didn’t actually need to voice it out loud. Not when you’d woken up one morning to find your legs tangled with his, your arms tossed across his torso, and clinging to him like a koala. You had squeaked and fell out of bed in your haste to untangle yourself from him. He had woken up in fear that something happened, but chuckled when he saw you on the floor, blankets and sheets raveled around your legs. Embarrassed and flushed, you’d shot him a glare as he’d gotten out of bed and strode into the bathroom to get ready for the day.

After that, you had made it your daily mission to see just how far you could push him to his breaking point. Little things such as “accidentally” walking away from Jimin or Jungkook in a crowded area, or turning down a meal that Seokjin had prepared because you were “exhausted” even though you’d done nothing that day, and even taking the hand of Namjoon or Hoseok once or twice instead of Taehyung’s when moving through a room full of people. You could see Taehyung’s frustration boiling beneath the surface and kicked it up a notch by giving your undivided attention to Yoongi during dinner one night. Yoongi of course, knew what you were doing and would have been scared of the repercussions of flirting with you if Taehyung hadn’t trusted him so much.

Yoongi played along with your little show, allowing you to lean in a little too close when talking, whispering in your ear about how much trouble you’d be in if Taehyung snapped, and letting you “subtly” run your finger across his knuckles. He had used his napkin to hide his smile when Taehyung had sprung up from his seat, snatched your wrist, and dragged you to the master bedroom. He had cleaned up the table and clapped Jimin and Jungkook on the shoulders, advising them to use headphones or sleep in the car for the rest of the night.

Taehyung had watched you stumble into the room, descending on you quickly when you had turned to yell at him. Whatever you were going to say had died on your tongue as he backed you against the wall, gripping your chin and hissing something about the possibility of killing Yoongi. You, equally as pissed, began to rant and scream about having your freedom taken away and wanting to teach Taehyung a lesson for confusing your already fogged up brain by being a gentleman rather than the piss poor excuse of a man most gang members are.

Taehyung had the audacity to smirk, fucking smirk, before crashing his mouth to yours and tangling his hand in your hair. He had tugged at the strands until you gasped and he slipped his tongue in to push against yours. He felt your hands wrenching the fabric of his dress shirt but he didn’t give you room to breathe, instead pressing you against the wall further. At some point he had started toying with the button to your jeans, waiting for your refusal, and when you hadn’t slapped him away, he popped the button open.

You had gasped loudly at the feel of his fingers, the rough pads running up and down your slit, stopping to press and rub at your clit before he was sinking his fingers in knuckles deep. You didn’t remember much else except for the overwhelming pleasure and the raspy sound of Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung echoing around the room. Afterwards, he had avoided you like the plague until you’d finally managed to corner him in the kitchen one night. You’d been huffy, demanding an explanation for his absence. Not that you’d missed him, of course. He’d said that he didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable that night and that he was sorry for losing control, to which you had scoffed. You clarified that discomfort wasn’t what you had felt, you were an adult, and just as willing as he was, and to stop tiptoeing around you.

“Princess,” the bane of your existence growls out, bringing you back to the present. He chuckles, deep and rich, and sends goosebumps across your skin. “For someone who wants to get as far away from me as possible, you don’t seem to be willing to let me go.”

You look down at your hands curled into his shirt and immediately release your hold. It seems you were too caught up in your trip down memory lane to notice. You drop your hands from his chest and avert your eyes to the door where two sharp knocks catch his attention as well.

“Boss,” Namjoon’s voice drifts through the wood, “your phone’s been ringing like crazy. Your father is trying to reach you.”

Taehyung sighs in disappointment and shifts away, pressing against your core one last time and you squeeze your legs together as if to keep him in place. He recognizes the faint blush on your cheeks as embarrassment and places a soft kiss to your cheek. “Be a good girl and do as you’re told, princess. I know you get a kick out of raising Jungkook’s blood pressure, but raising mine in the process will leave you widowed sooner than you’d think.”

You feel as though you’re finally able to breathe now that he’s out of the room and put a hand to your racing chest. It wasn’t just his blood pressure that’s been spiking lately. You sit up and tuck your arms beneath your legs, resting your chin on your knees. You really thought you were close this time around. The memory of being giddy as you tore through the airport to catch the plane to literally anywhere but here, only to freeze in the middle of the terminal as Taehyung stood in your way with his hands casually tucked in his pockets and his army of men around him. You run your hands through your hair and tug at the roots in anger, cursing your cousins and the day they were born.

Outside, Taehyung tugs at the buttons of his dress shirt while pressing his phone to his ear. “Dad?”

“Either your security system has gone to shit,” Mr. Kim calmly scolds his son, “or there’s a rat in your home. I’m looking through your camera footage as we speak, and unless I’m officially going senile, the cameras look like they’re in some kind of loop.”

“What kind of loop?” Taehyung is already making his way to the security room with Namjoon in tow.

“A car speeds past your security gate, seemingly at the same exact time every day, same make and model every time too. That’s not a coincidence, son, handle it quickly before it gets out of control.”

“On it.” Taehyung throws open the door to the security room, startling the guys watching the live feed from the cameras. “Where’s Yoongi?”

“Behind you,” Yoongi’s voice makes his presence known, trailing in and sitting at his personal computer to go through the footage Taehyung is there to discuss. “Everyone out.”

The other two men scramble outside with break neck speed. If Yoongi and Taehyung are here then something only they know about is going on, and nobody wants to get caught in the middle of it unless necessary.

“What’s going on with our cameras?” Taehyung looks over Yoongi’s shoulder at the computer screen.

“Nothing,” Yoongi sighs, pressing play on the paused screen while a miniature box with his personal coding pops up in the corner. “I noticed the same gray Tahoe driving down our street every day for the last week, and at first I thought somebody tampered with the cameras, so I built a code to filter through the system and push out whatever was installed to make this look like it’s on a loop. When nothing changed, I did some maintenance on the camera’s themselves, and still nothing. Someone is timing it just right to fool us, because check this out.” Yoongi pulls up another screen, zooming in on the corner of the frame where another car is doing a surprisingly good job of hiding. “So I can’t see who exactly the driver is, but I do know that they wait in this exact spot until the clock hits 3 on the dot. When that happens, they make a call, and out comes the Tahoe. Every. Single. Time.”

“One of ours?” Taehyung’s referring to one of the guys they keep on the property for extra measure.

“No one here did it. I rifled through their phones, computers, whatever I could and nothing popped up.” Yoongi confirms and points to the screen. “About an hour after the Tahoe zips by the screen, the car in hiding pulls out and goes the opposite direction, also part of tricking the cameras so we think there’s a glitch.”

“And the license plate?” Namjoon chimes in from the seat beside Yoongi.

“Belongs to a little old lady on the other side of the world. Looking for a date, Joon? She likes to read the same books you do and she crochets.” Yoongi jokes, “personally, I’d like a new sweater for Christmas.”

“Find out who it is.” Taehyung doesn’t laugh, not exactly appreciating the joke, and storms out of the room, throwing the door open so wide that it smacks against the wall.

----------------------------------------------------

You don’t recognize your own reflection. The woman in the mirror with foundation caked on much too heavily, curled and mascara filled lashes, and lips painted in a color that was meant to seem natural, did not look a thing like you. You’re close to wiping your face clean when the door to the room swings open and Jeonghan strolls in like he owns the place. It occurs to you that he probably does.

“What?” you huff at him as he comes up behind you.

“I know you’re angry,” he whispers, sadness in his eyes as he meets your reflection. “But we promised grandpa that we’d take care of you. Too much is happening for us to not take precaution. Everyone knows how much you mean to us and if they get to you, we’d be devastated.”

“Then why can’t I go abroad?” you ask, turning to him with pleading eyes and he takes a step back. You see tears building in his eyes as he takes in your appearance. He’s proud, you realize, as a smile spreads across his face. He’s proud of you, proud of who you are as a person despite the kind of business your parents ran.

“You’re gorgeous, little cousin,” Jeonghan lets out a shaky exhale, unprepared for the whirlwind of emotions slamming into him. “Grandfather, our parents, everybody would have loved to be here. To see you---.”

“Signing my life away?” you don’t let him finish whatever he was going to say. You don’t want to hear it. There was a time when you believed your wedding day would be a celebration, not a life sentence. You look down to the white of your dress, the gown suddenly felt too constricting and you wanted nothing more than to rip it off. “I don’t want this, Joenghan, please don’t make me do this.”

“If this were anyone else, I’d whisk you away without argument.” Jeonghan looks away from your face to keep himself from ruining everything. “But this is Taehyung, Y/N. You used to be friends and you cared so much for each other. We’ve known the Kim family for so long now that this would have happened eventually, don’t you think?”

“I would have still liked to have the option!” You stand from the chair and stalk towards him. “My friendship with Taehyung ended when we were children. I don’t know who he is now or what he’s done to get this far, but I do know that anyone willing to go to this length to get what they want is not someone to be trusted.”

“You’re being dramatic.” Joongki steps into the room and looks to his brother to find relief crossing his face. “It seems I got here just in time, little brother, you look like you’re about to hurl.”

“She scares me,” Jeonghan admits while moving for the door. “Men with guns, knives, even the occasional psychopath I can handle, but Y/N? Nope, that’s asking too much.”

You glare at your cousin slipping outside before you can say more, and you turn to Joongki. “I’m not being dramatic, you jackass, I’m being logical. You guys have hovered over me my entire life, is it so wrong to want control over at least this part of it?”

“I don’t need to remind you that this is for your own safety.” Joongki’s tone is harsh, a complete contrast to Jeonghan, but harsh was something you could fight against. Harsh, you could throw back in his face. The gentle lull of Jeonghan’s voice, you couldn’t, and often found yourself feeling guilty for hurting him.

“I don’t need to remind you that even if my parents were still alive, this isn’t the life I would have chosen,” you spit back at your eldest cousin, watching his shoulders tense. “Even if grandfather were still alive, I would have fought tooth and nail against this just like I am now. What the hell, Joongki? Weren’t you the one that was opposed to merging the families in the first place? And what, because you and Jeonghan pissed off some people, I have to pay the consequences?”

“Powerful people, Y/N,” Joongki hisses at you, “powerful people that wouldn’t think twice about torturing you to get to us.”

“So then this is more about protecting yourselves than it is me?” Your chest rises and falls with the building anger, and he looks at you with so much fire in his eyes that you’re sure Joongki would strike you at any moment. “This is about not having to babysit me anymore and dumping me off on some poor sack whose life I’m about to make a living hell!”

“It was always about you!” Joongki roars, the volume making you drop your eyes to the ground as you had with your grandfather and father. They’d never hit you, never even so much as raised a hand to you, but they were able to correct your behavior with their voices alone. “We didn’t babysit you, Y/N, we took care of you. We are still taking care of you not because we think we’re obligated to, but because you are our baby cousin. The only family we have left and someone is threatening that, threatening you, and if you think that doesn’t haunt us every time you’re out of our sight, then you’re wrong. I’d do this for Jeonghan too if I had to, I’d even do it for myself, as long as all of us are safe and alive. You want to make a mess of Kim Taehyung? Go ahead, turn his life upside down if you want to, so long as you stay under their protection.”

“I don’t want protection, Joongki.” You look back at his face with a trembling lip. “I want freedom. I want to walk down the street without your men trailing me or the fear of looking back and finding that someone else is. This is your world, not mine. This was our parents world, it wasn’t ours until they were gone. They wanted more for us, Joongki, don’t you remember that?”

“I remember their broken and bloodied bodies when they crossed the wrong person. I remember their pale, lifeless faces in their caskets as you curled up in grandfather’s lap and fought your sleep for weeks afterwards. I remember the way you screamed every time you shut your eyes because all you could see was ‘the bad man with a gun’. I remember promising grandfather that I would do whatever it took to keep you and Jeonghan from suffering the same fate that our parents did.”

You turn away from him to peer out of the window, seeing the guests that consisted solely of friends and family on Taehyung’s side. Children ran across the yard, parents scolded them for dirtying their clothes, and as you glanced around you spotted Taehyung. He was standing with Jungkook, a man he kept close to his side out of trust, nodding along to whatever Jungkook was saying. There was no denying how handsome Taehyung was, or the way it sent shivers up your spine when a little girl ran to him and he scooped her up without hesitation. You didn’t know what the little girl was excited about, but you could guess it had to do with your soon to be husband with the way she looked at him with stars in her eyes. His eyes were warm when he looked at her, accepting the little flower she’d picked from the garden around the side of the house. He tucked it into the pocket of his suit jacket, right where his heart was, and patted it gently in promise to keep it on. He set her down and she ran off with a giggle and a blush across her cheeks. You were staring too long, you knew, because he felt it. Taehyung peered up at the window in time to catch you moving away.

“Y/N,” Joongki whispers to catch your attention. “Please don’t be stubborn about this. Taehyung’s family may run in the same circles as our parents, but they’ve always been kind to us. My refusal to bring the families closer didn’t stop them from keeping a relationship with us.”

“Maybe it’s out of pity.” You try one last time to get under his skin, but you know better than anyone that he’s tired. Tired and defeated and hanging on by a thread.

“Even if it was out of pity, that’s something we can use right now.” He comes up behind you, smoothing down the back of your hair and leaving a kiss to the top of your head. He presses his forehead to the spot he just kissed and sighs. “Mr. Kim could think the lowest of me and the mess I’ve made of our family’s reputation, and I’d still take his help if it meant I didn’t lose you or my brother.”

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“You know, eventually,” Jimin sighs tiredly, trailing behind Taehyung as they walk into the house, “people are going to call the cops for kidnapping.”

“The cops aren’t stupid enough to go against our family,” Taehyung grunts out, the squirming and fidgeting nearly made him lose his grip more than once. It was admirable, at first, when you’d begun thrashing against him, believing you could truly break free. Now, it was a nuisance, and he promptly drops you on your ass in the middle of the living room.

“Asshole!” You seethe, jumping back to your feet and wincing at your sore bottom. You have no idea what set Taehyung off at the mall, but you’re pissed that he ruined the first outing you were actually excited about. One minute, you were browsing through your favorite section at the bookstore, and the next, he was dragging you out by the hand. In the car on the way over, he hadn’t spoken a word, refusing to explain himself, so you refused to get out of the car when Jungkook pulled into the driveway. Apparently, Taehyung wasn’t so mad that he couldn’t throw you over his shoulder and march into the house.

“Jesus, Taehyung, what the hell is your problem?!”

“Who was he?” Taehyung demands, shooing Jimin and Jungkook to the other room. He grits his teeth when Jungkook hesitates to move. ”Jeon Jungkook, did I or did I not tell you leave?”

“You’re pissed, Taehyung, and look like you could tear someone’s head off,” Jungkook fires right back and looks past his boss to you. You may not be afraid of Taehyung’s temper, but Jungkook is. He’s seen what Taehyung and his temper could do to things and people, and he’ll be damned if you end up hurt because of it.

“That head could be yours if you don’t get the hell out of my sight,” Taehyung snaps, “go!”

“Go, Kook,” you agree with Taehyung. You’ve never seen him go at Jungkook like this and it isn’t helping if Jungkook keeps defying Taehyung, so removing him from the situation seems like the logical answer at the moment. “It’s ok. Just go, please.”

Jungkook clenches his jaw and turns to leave with much reluctance. He’s out of sight but not out of ear shot when Jimin meets him halfway. “He’s going to hurt her, you and I both know that.”

“It’s not as serious as you think.” Jimins pats his shoulder, reassuring him that everything will be fine. “You know that someone’s been circling the house, and had Y/N not insisted on going out today, then Taehyung wouldn’t have been so on edge to start with. There’s too many people at the mall, too many entrances and exits, too many cracks to be slipped through, too many opportunities for someone to get at Y/N if they tried. Trust me, Jungkookie, this anger that you think Taehyung has is actually fear, okay? So leave them be to hash it out and we’ll go running in the second something seems off.”

Back in the living room, Taehyung is pacing, running a hand down his face, and seeming like he’s having trouble putting into words what exactly he’s upset about. When he finally stops, it’s simply to stalk towards you and stand toe to toe. “Why are there rules, princess, hm? Why do I tell you to stick to Jungkook and Jimin like glue when we’re out? Why do you think I stick to you like fucking glue when we’re out?”

“Oh, so it’s ‘princess’ now?” you scoff. “A minute ago, you wouldn’t say a damn thing, but now you’re asking me to recite some bogus ass rules like I’m in primary school. You don’t get to be pissed in this situation, Taehyung, not when I’m the one who’s getting zero explanation for your outburst.”

“I don’t need to explain myself,” he raises his voice, not quite yelling. “I need you to fucking listen when one of us tells you to do something. The guys aren’t here for decoration, Y/N, they’re here to keep you safe, but they can’t do that when you insist on being a brat.”

“I’m not a fucking brat!” you screech loud enough for half the world to hear. It’s actually surprising that Taehyung’s eardrum didn’t burst.

“Well, you’re not exactly a fucking saint,” Taehyung counters and it’s your turn to start pacing, your hands gripping onto the roots of your hair.

“Oh, my God,” you laugh humorlessly, “Oh, my God, oh my God, oh my fucking God, Kim Taehyung! You irritating, overbearing, senseless piece of---.” You don’t know what possesses you to swing your hand out, palm open, and try to slap his face.

He catches your wrist, sees the immediate regret in your eyes, yet still hauls you to the nearby wall. He presses you to the plastered surface, using his free hand to box you in so you can’t run away. Truthfully, he’d let go the second you ask, but a line has to be drawn. You have to, absolutely have to start listening to him and the other guys, otherwise something could go very, very wrong.

“Want to hit me, princess?” he hisses inches from your face as he leans in. “Want to get violent because you can’t do whatever you want anymore? That’s pretty ironic for someone who cried at the mere thought of being hit. I can barely raise my hand to you, but you can swing at me all you want, is that it? That’s not how it works, princess, I suggest you learn that real quick. Now you owe me something for trying to hit me. I let that shit go when you first kneed me in the balls, so it’s more like you owe me two, but I’m nice enough to collect on just one. Tell me who your little friend was in the bookstore.”

You’d like to think you’re not scared, yet it was evident what Taehyung was really capable of when pushed too far. He’s been patient with you, far too patient, and willingly plays along with whatever bullshit you pull for the day. It’s amazing he hasn’t broken your wrist for trying to slap him. Especially, when you know good and well that you wouldn’t hesitate to break his if the roles were reversed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. There was no friend in the bookstore.”

“The guy, princess,” he hisses, momentarily tightening his grip. “The guy in the store that was happily chatting you up. Who was he?”

You wrack your brain for this person he’s talking about and it’s like a cartoon light bulb goes off above your head. “The man who was talking to me about the book in my hand?”

“Yes, that guy.”

“He’s not a friend,” you insist, glaring at your husband, “just some stranger trying to hit on me. Is that what this is about? Some random guy trying to get my number? Your jealousy is really unparalleled, Kim.”

“I wasn’t jealous. Even if I was, you wouldn’t be the one I’d take it out on.That ring on your finger is there for a reason, anyone who can’t respect it or the boundaries it represents won’t live to see the next day. I’m asking about this ‘random’ guy because I don’t think he was random at all, I think he approached you with a purpose.”

“Contrary to popular belief, not everyone is afraid of you, Taehyung.” You relax now that he’s calmer than before. The grip on your wrist was loose and he was drawing patterns on your skin with his thumb.

“No, princess, they’re not afraid of me in front of you because they have a hard time believing anyone as gorgeous as you would have anything to do with someone like me.” He slumps against your frame, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have scared you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” you ask with shaky breaths. It wasn’t easy to hold him up and he wasn’t even putting his full weight on you. “Better yet, why didn’t you ask him right then and there?”

“Where do you think he is now, baby?” Taehyung opens his mouth against your neck, working the flesh between his teeth and using his tongue to soothe the sting before he bites down again. He feels your fingers grip his hair, to hold him in place or tug him away, he doesn’t know. He just knows that you haven’t recoiled from his touch yet.

Your head lulls back and your eyes shut on their own accord. Your hand also has a hard time listening to your brain as it reaches out to hook a finger in his belt loop and pull him closer. He obliges, using one knee to part your thighs and press against you. The sudden feel of his muscled thigh putting pressure against your clothed core makes you jump in his hold. When he flexes that muscle, you gasp and buck your hips. So he does it again, and again, and again until you’re riding his thigh, and he’s moving his mouth to the other unmarked side of your neck.

You choose an awfully slow pace for someone trying to get off. Taehyung’s done marking up the skin of your neck with deep shades of purple and can finally pull back a bit to admire you. He presses his forehead to yours as you let out a breathless moan and your face contorts with pleasure. You’re riding him slow, but with a purpose, he realizes, intent on enjoying every single push and pull of your hips. Both of your hands lock together at the nape of his neck and you whimper at your building orgasm. You don’t recall the coil in your belly winding as tight as it is right now with anyone else. No, only Taehyung can evoke this kind of reaction.

You know he can feel the wet patch growing on his pants and you’re thankful that he doesn’t comment on it. In fact, he’s rather quiet for someone who’d been scolding you just moments before. You don’t look at his face, not purposefully ignoring him, but completely mesmerized by the deep onyx color of his pants growing even deeper the wetter it gets. You clench around nothing, nearly sobbing at the empty feeling and rocking your hips just a little bit faster than before. You want more, you need more, you need, “your hand,” you gasp out to him. “I need your hand, Tae, please.”

“I can’t do that ,baby,” he groans at having to deny you, ready to shoot himself in the foot for being all too in control. “If I touch you, I won’t stop.”

“You did before.” You want to cry. You’re probably going to cry soon if you don’t get what you want.

“Barely, princess. I barely controlled myself last time. If I do it now, I’ll take you against this wall, and then every other surface of this house. You’re not ready for that yet. You can do this. Cum against me like this, baby, I know you can.”

You’re close, so fucking close but then...

“Hey, boss-- oh shit, sorry!” Seokjin’s shoes squeak against the tiled floor as he quickly spins around to face literally anywhere but you and Taehyung. “Uh, Namjoon and Hoseok need you for something.”

“What?” Taehyung growls out, watching your entire neck and face flush a deep shade of red out of embarrassment. “What could they possibly fucking need in this exact moment that you can’t handle, Seokjin?”

“Uh, th-they didn’t say,” Seokjin stammers, silently cursing Namjoon and Hoseok for sending him to get Taehyung instead of doing it themselves. Those little bastards had to have known Taehyung was busy. And you. Oh, the look on your face when you saw him hurt his heart. He knows how mortified you feel at having been caught. He can hear the rustling of clothes as you gather yourselves, the panting breaths of two frustrated adults doing adult things, and holy crap Seokjin wants nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. “I can tell them you’re busy, if you need me to.”

“No!” you squeak, shoving Taehyung away harder than you meant to, and Seokjin jolts at the octave of your voice. “I mean, no. Tae’s not...Taehyung isn’t busy. I’m-- I have to be...anywhere that’s not here.”

Seokjin hears you run off, the patting of your shoes carries you across the house with speed he didn’t think anyone but an olympic track star had. He doesn’t want to turn around. He’d kill to not have to turn around.

“If this isn’t as urgent as they made it out to be,” Taehyung’s voice is steely, cruel as he approaches Seokjin, “then all 3 of you are getting tossed into the river, do you hear me?”

“Understood.” Seokjin holds his breath while Taehyung shoulders past him, ducking his head down and following close behind.

Yoongi is busy deleting all the footage from the past hour when Taehyung barges in. “I’m already on it, and no, I didn’t watch it. I’m not some greasy perv. None of the other guys were in here either. I kicked them out as soon as you had Jungkook and Jimin leave you two alone.”

“Right now, Yoongi, you and Jimin are the only ones safe from me.” Taehyung leaves feeling a little bit better knowing that you’d at least be spared from the entire house knowing what happened.

Seokjin stops in the doorway of the security room. “You little kiss ass.”

“Don’t get mad at me because I’m doing my job.” Yoongi smirks at him. “It’s not my fault Namjoon and Hobi threw you under the bus.”

“So they did know!” Seokjin has half a mind to pummel the both of them.

“Oh, they knew. Namjoon was actually on his way to the living room when Jimin and Jungkook stopped him.”

“I’ll kill them,” Seokjin swears, “I’ll kill all of them.”

“Seokjin, get your ass over here now!” Taehyung’s voice booms, making Seokjin jump and scurry in his direction.

Namjoon and Hoseok are in the garage, standing a few feet away from the poor bastard tied to a chair. When Taehyung had called them earlier to pick up the guy talking to you at the bookstore, they didn’t imagine he’d look like an average Joe. Guys in the mafia tend to dress nice, carry themselves a certain way, even walk and talk a certain way. But this guy. This guy looks like he could be an accountant or a librarian.

“Man, this is going to really suck if he’s not working for anyone,” Hoseok comments, almost feeling guilty. “He really could be just some guy who saw a pretty girl and tried to get her number.”

“I’d agree if he wasn’t carrying Cecil’s business card.” Namjoon hands the man’s wallet to Hoseok.

“It must be nice to have such a big ego that you’d make professional hitman cards and label them as ‘business’.” Hoseok rifles through the wallet, pulling out credit cards, debit cards, cash, a few photos, until he finally finds a little white paper with Cecil’s number scrawled across it. “I’d hardly call this a business card.”

“Hobi, focus,” Namjoon reminds him, tilting his head in the man’s direction.

“Alright.” Hoseok approaches the man and bends to his sitting height, producing an I.D. card. “Sunho. How do you know Y/N?”

“Who?” Sunho whimpers, blood seeping from his busted lip. “I-I don’t even know who that is.”

“Seemed pretty chummy with her in the bookstore this afternoon.”

“That girl?” Sunho is quick to shake his head. “I just thought she was really cute, that’s all. I didn’t know she was married.”

“Ok, then how do you know Cecil?” Hoseok moves on to the next question without missing a beat.

“I don’t, I swear!”

“Why else would you have his card?” Namjoon asks as the garage door swings open, a very pissed looking Taehyung strolling in a second later. He whistles low and grips the back of Hoseok’s shirt to haul him out of Taehyung’s path.

“Oh, hey, Seokjin.” Hoseok shoots him a teasing smile. “I see you were able to get Taehyung’s attention.”

“I swear to God, I will fuck you up right here and now, Hobi.” Seokjin glares at the younger man before turning his attention to Taehyung and Sunho.

“Sunho,” Taehyung sighs, rolling his neck and shoulders. “I was very, very fucking busy inside my home and I was interrupted before anything productive got done.” He shoots forward and braces his hands on the arms of the chair Sunho is tied to. “So you see, I’m not in the mood for playing games. I’m going to explain to you how this works very carefully. Ready?”

Sunho manages a pathetic nod and Taehyung stands straight while undoing the buttons of his shirt sleeves and rolls them up his forearms. He swallows the saliva gathered on his tongue, panic washing over him when Taehyung produces a crowbar from the workbench he’s only now seeing.

“I’m going to ask you a few questions,” Taehyung explains, pointing one end of the crowbar at Sunho. “If you answer me honestly, I’ll let you go. Pay for the hospital bill that’s sure to wrack up given what these two have done to you,” he pauses to point at Namjoon and Hoseok, “and set you up for life as an apology. Sound fair?” He doesn’t wait for Sunho’s reply before continuing. “But if you lie to me, this crowbar will be the least of your worries, definitely one of the less painful weapons in our arson. Now tell me, how do you know Cecil?”

Sunho’s face is covered in tears by the time Taehyung is finished talking. His body shakes with how hard he sobs. “He ap-approached me last month, p-paid me $3,000 to drive a gray Tahoe down whatever street his guys called from. I didn’t think anything of it, until it got really weird. I noticed they’d only call me once a day at 2 or 2:30, tell me to wait at the end of your block until it hit 3 on the hour and then drive past the gate. They gave me your wife’s picture and told me to keep an eye out for her. When I realized they were stalking her, I thought I should warn her.”

“So you followed us to the mall?” Taehyung asks, crouching down to look Sunho in the eye. He uses the end of the crowbar to lift Sunho’s chin up. “What did you say to her?”

“I didn’t know what I could say,” Sunho sobs harder. “I mean, I-I was helping them stalk her. She’d think I was crazy if I just came right out and said it. So, I just walked up and asked her about the book she had. I didn’t know what the fucking title was, I just knew she had to be warned. I didn’t get that far before you came up and took her away.”

“Did Cecil tell you what he wanted with her?”

“No. Just to drive the car and watch out for her.”

Taehyung looks back to Hoseok, taking the picture from his outstretched hand. He observes the photo quietly. “These your kids, Sunho?”

“Yes.” Sunho’s bottom lip trembles. “Please don’t hurt them! Please! They’re just kids to a shitty father drowning in debt. They didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Did Cecil threaten them?” Seokjin comes up behind Taehyung, scanning the faces of two kids that couldn’t more than 8 and 10 years old.

“He said I could either take the job willingly,” Sunho cries, snot and tears mixing together at his top lip, “or I could watch him torture my kids until I accept it.”

“Where are they now?”

“Their grandparents’ house. Their mother died 3 years ago, it’s just me and them. I gave them to their grandmother the same day Cecil came to me.”

“Why you?” Hoseok wonders aloud. “There’s professionals out there to get jobs like this done. Hell, even Cecil’s guys, as dumb as they are, could do a better job than you did. Their morality wouldn’t get in the way either, that’s for sure. So what makes you so special for a job like this?”

“My kids’ mother.” Sunho releases a fresh round of tears. “She was a girl he’d taken care of in her teenage years when she was a waitress at some dingy dive bar. There was an accident 3 years ago. A head on collision with a drunk driver. Cecil hates that I survived but she didn’t. This is his way of getting back at me, I guess.”

Taehyung stands, makes his way to the workbench, and drops the crowbar on it. He braces his hands against the bench as Namjoon steps up next to him. “Yoongi?”

“Pulled up hospital records, a death certificate, and foreclosure notices on the house,” Namjoon confirms Sunho’s story. “It all checks out.”

“Get the kids, take Sunho, and get them as far away from here as possible. We’ll clean up his debt and set him up with enough to get himself started again.” Taehyung nods at Namjoon, but stops him before he gets too far away. “You make sure he understands that he needs to get his shit together. And to call us if anything happens, we’ll move his family again if we have to. Go.”

Namjoon gestures Hoseok to follow his lead, untying Sunho and ushering him into one of the many SUVs in the garage. He slides into the driver’s seat as Hoseok jumps into the passenger side, and he backs out of the garage to start his orders.

“Think Cecil would know we’d look into Sunho and set up fake accounts?” Seokjin asks Taehyung, following him on their way out of the garage.

“Yoongi will catch it if anything is fake.” Taehyung undoes the top three buttons on his dress shirt. It’s late, he’s exhausted, and he just wants to climb into bed next to you as soon as possible.

“Do you think Cecil’s after Y/N herself, or just trying to get to the Seong brothers?”

“We’ll be finding out soon.” Taehyung claps Seokjin on the shoulder before going his separate way. “And yes, Seokjin, it was important, so you can sleep peacefully knowing that you get to see tomorrow.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of the king size bed, crossword book out, and pencil scribbling across the empty spaces, when Taehyung comes back into the room. You want to say something, want to talk about what happened, but it wasn’t the first time the two of you had gotten a little too carried away. Well, more so you than him earlier when you’d begged for his touch, and then Seokjin had walked in. You’ve never, in your entire life, been more humiliated and turned on at the same time, and some part of your brain insists that it really wouldn’t have been bad if Seokjin hadn’t interrupted. You certainly wouldn’t have had to take a cold shower, that’s for sure.

“You’re still up,” Taehyung comments softly as if he hadn’t seen the light peeking out from underneath the door. He’d dismissed Jungkook before opening the door, expecting you to have simply fallen asleep while reading as usual. He’s unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it from his shoulders when his ears pick up the rustling of bedsheets.

His back muscles flex with each move and you bite down on your tongue for composure. “You didn’t apologize to Kook for snapping at him earlier.”

“Jungkook understands that when he’s told to do something, he does it. If he wants to fight back against his orders and be a rebel, then he’s going to be treated as such.” Taehyung unclasps the watch on his wrist, setting it down on the dresser. “If sometimes I go too far, they don’t expect an apology.”

“Because you don’t know how to give one?” Your tone is sarcastic and it makes him smile even though you can’t see his face. “Or you just don’t want to?”

“Because I don’t need to.” His hands reach for his belt, unbuckling the leather band and sliding it out from the loops of his pants. “We’ve been a tight group for a long time, but I’m still their boss and sometimes I need to be more strict than usual. The fact that Jungkook hasn’t been strung up by his feet and left to bleed out for arguing with me earlier says a lot already.”

“I know,” you answer immediately, having seen that very scenario dozens of times before either by accident or because your grandfather wanted to remind you and your cousins of what happens to people that can no longer be trusted. “This is the only time Jungkook’s gone against you, Taehyung, you know that.”

Taehyung whirls around to face you, understanding and patience written all over his face. “I need to make sure that it stays the only time he’ll go against me. The only reason he isn’t dead now is because it was on your behalf, which is his job. Yes, it’s unfair of me to be pissed at him for doing exactly what he’s supposed to, but when you’re with me there’s nothing to be afraid of and he needs to understand that.”

“Something in you scared him today,” you argue as he turns back to the dresser, pulling out a pair of sweats and plain gray t-shirt. “Something in you scared me. It’s like a switch went off inside of your head and you became an entirely different person.”

“I am who I need to be when the situation calls for it.” Taehyung steps up to the bed and braces one arm on the mattress as he leans closer, touching his forehead to yours. “I didn’t mean to scare you, princess, that’s my fault and I’m sorry. I want to say you’ll never have to see it again, but you know as well as I do that it would be a lie. What I can tell you is that it won’t always happen, I swear that to you. Right now, with whatever Joongki and Jeonghan have going on, and the spike in threats against your family, the boys and I are on edge more than normal.” He cups your face with his other hand after dropping his spare clothes to the bed. “It won’t always be this way.”

You don’t know what you’ve done in your past life to have fallen into the Kim family, or what you did to deserve one of the rarer, kinder mafia bosses that is Kim Taehyung. You’ve come to realize that you don’t hate Taehyung or any of the boys, but you hate the circumstances behind your being in his home. You’ve always detested this life and after your grandfather’s death, you vowed to get away from it. You didn’t take into account how quick Joongki would jump to throw you under lock and key, only ever gifting the small amount of freedom that came with having to attend your full time job.

Taehyung hadn’t expected your kiss, the soft press of your lips against his and the touch of your fingers wrapping around his wrist has goosebumps rising on his skin. You don’t kiss him often, only when you’re out at a charity event or at dinner with his parents, and even then it’s a small peck to keep up appearances. You push your tongue against his and he groans, slipping his fingers into your hair and stepping back as you rise up to your knees. The soft pads of your fingers trace up the path of his jawline until they tangle in his soft black locks, and then you’re tugging on the strands to tip his head back.

His other hand is at your hip, thumb slipping beneath the hem of your pajama shirt to rub circles in your skin. He doesn’t know what brought on this sudden affection, but he isn’t complaining. Your fingers card through his hair, one hand tracing down the broad plain of his chest and bare skin burning the tips of your fingers as they reach the waistband of his pants. He hisses out a small ‘fuck’ against your mouth when your hand slips into his boxers, toying with the length of him. Holy shit, he’s huge, and you moan into another kiss as you have a hard time wrapping your fingers around his cock. He’s thick and long, you note, using the tips of your nails to gently trace the veins running along his shaft. Precum pools at the tip and you circle your thumb around him to gather enough of it before pumping your hand down, then back up, and then back down again.

“What are you doing, princess?” Taehyung nearly chokes on the words as he pulls away from the kiss. You’ve built up a steady rhythm and he’s very near collapsing to his knees if you keep this up. He grits his teeth as the hand in his hair dives into his boxers to join the other, pumping along his cock in tandem. His fingers tighten in your hair, twisting the locks at the base of your neck and you gasp gently at the feeling.

“Earlier, in the living room,” you whisper against his lips, “I was so close to coming against your thigh, but then Seokjin walked in.”

“To be fair,” he growls out and bucks his hips against your hands, “I threatened to kill him for it, so---.” He does choke this time as you squeeze him just a little harder.

“You know what happened when I came back to the room, Tae?” You give him a sweet smile, but you know he can see the devious intentions behind it. “I got stuck having to take a cold shower. I’d blame Jin, but you’re the one who started it, aren’t you?”

“Baby,” he groans, “please don’t---.”

You’re pulling back, taking your hands with you, and falling back onto the mattress before he can finish his plea. You bounce slightly against the bed as you giggle at the death glare he gives you, his chest is heaving and a thin sheen of sweat coats his brow. “Not so fun when it’s you, is it, Tae?”

Taehyung heaves out a shaky breath and runs a hand through his hair. “Alright, fine. I take responsibility for leaving you the way I did.” He snatches your ankles, chuckling at the yelp that leaves you, and drags you down the bed. He spreads your thighs to make room for his hips and rocks against you. The thin material of your pajama pants does nothing to shield the feeling of his hard on pushing against your clothed core. You still feel every inch of him and your mouth drops open as he grinds his hips. “But what you call punishment, I call a reward, princess.”

He’s gone in the blink of an eye, his laugh echoing from the bathroom, and you bolt up to hurl a pillow at the door. Why is he so much better at this than you are?!

---------------------------------------------

Taehyung’s home is gorgeous. Well, you suppose it’s your home now too, but the fact that you’re about to be thrown into a house full of strange men and monitored 24 hours a day, doesn’t take away from its beauty. You thought the security gates were a little much when Jungkook first drove through them, yet it’s clear now why they’re necessary. A two story estate looms over you as Jungkook opens the SUV door so you can climb out.

“Welcome home, princess.” Taehyung stands in the middle of the foyer, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dress pants. He’d had every intention of being with you in that SUV after the reception, but his father had hauled him away for some ‘unfinished business’ with the Ahn family.

“More like a prison,” you mutter while Jungkook takes the backpack hanging from your shoulder. He hoists it over his own and grabs the handle of your rolling suitcase, waiting to see what your next move is. “The word ‘home’ doesn’t exactly come to mind, Kim.”

Taehyung hums, crossing the foyer in quick strides before he’s gripping your chin and pulling you so close that you stand on the tips of your toes. He feels the clenching of your jaw against his fingers and briefly worries that you’ll end up chipping a tooth with how hard you grind your teeth together. “Call it what you want, Y/N, but this is where you’ll be for a very long time. I suggest you get used to it.”

“Boss.” Jungkook clears his throat, eyes darting to the strong grip Taehyung has on your face before they’re matching his gaze. The slight tilting of his head serves as a warning and Taehyung nods in recognition before releasing his hold. When Jungkook had first been told that he would be your personal guard from now on, he vowed to do his best, even if it meant going against Taehyung from time to time.

You sneer at Taehyung when he smiles at Jungkook. Whatever passes between them in the look they share is unclear, and it bothers you. If Taehyung’s rough handling was meant to scare you, and Jungkook’s swift response to it was meant to deter that fear, then they were both failing. Miserably. It’s not that you’re afraid of Taehyung, that couldn’t be further from the truth. It’s how quick he can be at changing his entire persona in a matter of seconds.

Jungkook puts his free hand on the small of your back to guide you forward, leaving the foyer and entering the living room. He watches you scan the surroundings, gaze lingering a little too long on the loose objects Taehyung has chosen to decorate with. He makes a mental note to have those removed for the time being until you’re settled in enough to not try and kill Taehyung. It’s understandable that you’re frustrated, and angry, and hurt, but it’s also easy for those feelings to boil over and turn into something disastrous. He leads you through the room to the adjoining dining room, then the kitchen, and finally stopping at a door.

“It’s your room,” he explains as he opens the door and shuffles inside the much too big room meant for you. It’s bigger than the entirety of your last two apartments combined. He sets your backpack on the bed before rolling your suitcase over to the dresser in the corner of the room. Leaving the suitcase be for you to unpack at your leisure, he moves for the bathroom that you didn’t even notice was there at first. He comes out soon after and pulls open the doors to the walk-in closet, scanning it from top to bottom.

He’s checking for anything out of place, you realize, as Jungkook seems satisfied enough to make his way back to you. He isn’t anything like you imagined Taehyung’s men would be, the first couple of encounters with him should have been enough to tell you that. You had just been so adamant in hating this part of it to realize that Jungkook would most likely end up being your only friend. Your actual friends weren’t invited to the wedding out of fear of who may have been there. Exposing them to this life was never an option and you’d been doing a damn fine job of it since high school. Until Jeonghan had spilled the beans about your upcoming nuptials and the girls became giddy. Their faces had dropped when you lied that only a handful of people could attend, and they weren’t on the guest list. It took weeks of groveling for them to finally cave and forgive you.

“Y/N?” Jungkook’s voice snaps you from your thoughts. He quirks a brow when you shake your head in apology. “Are you alright?”

“I was just thinking,” you say, letting your eyes float around the room once more. “Thank you, Jungkook.”

“Of course.”

“Not just for checking the room,” you clarify, “but for not making me feel so out of place. I really appreciate it.”

“Jungkookie’s always been good at making people comfortable,” a voice has you spinning around quickly, a hand pressed to your racing heart. The owner of the voice beams like he’s just won the lottery, clearly amused at successfully scaring you. “Y/N. I’m Park Jimin. I’ll be accompanying you and Jungkook every time we leave the grounds.”

“Right,” you heave. Catching your breath seems to be a new level of difficulty for some reason. Well, there was one reason, actually.

Taehyung had been right behind you and Jungkook the entire time. Quietly observing you and the reaction you’d have to the house. He’d also been leaning against the doorjamb while Jungkook combed through the room. Which means he’d also heard your gratitude for the younger man and you pale at the thought of what might happen to Jungkook now. Not all bosses like when their wives become chummy with other men, especially if it’s a man they trust, and you fear you may have gotten Jungkook in trouble.

“Do you think of Jungkookie as comfortable, princess?” Taehyung pins you with a stare that you can’t quite decipher. He sees the look of panic in your eyes as you struggle for words. When you open your mouth to answer, he cuts you off with a stern, “Don’t. Lie. To me.”

“Yes,” you reply breathlessly, clenching your hands into fists. Fear runs down your spine when Taehyung pushes away from the door and draws near. You flinch when his hand reaches out, your body going stiff to brace for the sting of his palm against your cheek. But he doesn’t hit you, his hand frozen mid-air at your reaction. It’s when you feel the slight tug on a single strand of hair that you realize he’d meant to pet your head. You meet his eyes with tears welling in your own, chest rising and falling with short, rapid breaths.

“I’d never hurt you, Y/N,” Taehyung whispers, reaching out once more to graze the backs of his fingers against your cheek. The wet heat of a single tear sliding down your face catches on his knuckles and he grits his teeth. “Has anyone ever hit you before?”

Jungkook and Jimin immediately come closer to hear your answer. If anyone had ever laid a hand on you, they wouldn’t wait for Taehyung’s order to find and kill whoever it was. You aren’t just the boss’ wife, you’re theirs to protect now, and they intend on doing just that.

“No.” You turn away from Taehyung’s touch, drawing back to both create some much needed space, and to reel in the flood of emotions you didn’t expect to feel. Being a leader in a crime syndicate meant being vicious and violent, even to your own family if it proved a point. Taehyung was neither of those things, a heavy reminder of how gentle your father and grandfather would be with any woman or girl important to them. “No one’s ever...it’s just something I’ve seen many times before, is all.”

“To someone important?”

“To people who were people and deserved to be treated as such. Not like the punching bags they became because their boss couldn’t push aside his pride or ego.” You take another step back only to bump into Jungkook’s chest. Damn it. Too many people surround you, too many are witness to how easily you can crumble, and you want them out. You want room to breathe and catch your bearings. You also want the privacy to unpack your stuff.

“Out,” Taehyung demands from Jungkook and Jimin, neither men hesitate to do as they’ve been told. He moves for the door right after them, hesitating with his hand on the knob. Looking back over his shoulder, he sees you pulling a laptop from your backpack, along with a few romance novels and a jumbo book of crossword puzzles.

“Jimin isn’t the only one of the members you’ll be meeting today,” the softness of Taehyung’s voice makes your chest tight as you look up at him. “There’s 3 others roaming around here somewhere and another that’s away on an assignment, but he’ll be back soon.”

You nod your understanding, picking up a book to occupy your hands to keep your fingers from picking at the cuticles of your nails. It was something you’d always done when you got nervous, a bad habit that needed to be gotten rid of.

“I don’t want to do this to you, princess,” he states it like an apology as you draw your brows together in confusion, “but I’m going to take your laptop and phone.”

“Why?” One hand immediately falls to the computer he’s stepping back into the room for. You almost wrestle it away when his long fingers swipe it from the bed. “It’s important, Taehyung. I use it to edit my friend’s photos. She’s a photographer and I help her clean them up when she needs it.”

“I know you do, sweetheart.” He grips the computer closer to his side and holds his palm out. “You’ll get it back soon, I promise. I need your phone.”

“What if Joongki and Jeonghan call?” you scoff, because of fucking course Taehyung knows what you do in your spare time. “They’ll get worried if I don’t answer.”

“That’s a pretty weak excuse given how you tore into them after the reception. I might not have left with you, but I heard all about the way you swore you wouldn’t be speaking to your cousins anytime soon.”

“My friends will think I’m dead if I don’t answer their texts.”

“Your friends,” Taehyung steps closer and leans in, hovering inches away from your lips, “know that you got married today. They know that you’ll be occupied with your new husband. I can bet they’re wondering what you’re doing right this second, but can’t bring themselves to ask lest they interrupt what may be going on.”

Your back hits a wall you hadn’t realized he’d been backing you into. He’s not close enough to touch, yet that’s exactly what you want to do and find yourself pressing the book in your hand to his chest instead.

“I bet they’re wondering if you’re enjoying yourself,” he continues, pressing his forehead against yours. The back of your head thumps against the wall gently with the pressure as he uses it to keep your eyes on him. “They’re wondering if your new groom satisfies you enough, princess. If he’s kissing you like you deserve to be, touching you in all the right places,” his free hand clamps onto your waist, thumb dipping beneath the hem of your shirt to feel your skin, “if he’s able to hit that right spot inside of you over, and over, and over.”

Your breath hitches when his hand slides higher beneath the t-shirt you’d stupidly changed into before coming to the house. His fingers are hot against your skin as they’re splayed along your ribcage.

“I can do all of that for you if you’ll let me, princess,” Taehyung growls without meaning to. He’d only meant to distract you enough to take your phone. However, he’d somehow managed to arouse both himself and you with the way you clench your thighs together. Still, even knowing how turned on you are, he doesn’t press any closer than he already is. His hand doesn’t move any further up your torso though his thumb still rubs smooth circles on your skin. “I can make you feel so good, you’d forget your own name.”

You inhale sharply. You know he can and that he’d be the best you ever had. But giving in now, on your very first hour inside the new house, would be grounds for Taehyung to think you’re actually on board with this whole thing. So you do what you do best, argue. “You really think so highly of yourself, huh, Kim? I’m pretty sure I’ve had better.”

“Don’t push buttons when you don’t understand the consequences,” he whispers darkly, “or throw out empty challenges like that. I might be inclined to take them if you keep it up.”

You open your mouth to fight back, but a yelp comes out instead when his hand rips itself from underneath your shirt and is swiping the phone from your back pocket quickly. You aren’t prepared for him to reel back soon after, nearly losing your balance without him there to hold you up. “Taehyung, what the hell?!”

Taehyung smirks in victory, the phone and laptop in his hands, before he turns around and saunters to the door. “Disappointed, baby? All you have to do is ask and I’ll fuck you any way you want.”

Jungkook and Jimin are standing just outside, backs pressed to the opposite wall, and they both jump when the sound of glass shattering against wood follows Taehyung closing the door behind him. Jungkook wants to check on you, but the satisfied look on Taehyung’s face lets him know that you meant to break whatever had hit the door. “Uh, boss?”

Taehyung hands the laptop and phone to Jimin, who was looking at him with raised brows. “Give these to Yoongi, tell him to go through them, delete anything that can be used to track either device, and have him install the tracking app he created in her phone. I want us, and only us, to be able to access the app. If, for whatever reason, Yoongi feels like someone outside of the seven of us should be able to tap into it, I want to know who and why first. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.” Jimin disappears with the phone and computer, leaving behind a chuckle that has Jungkook rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and Kook,” Taehyung claps Jungkook on the shoulder with a mischievous grin, “buy Y/N a new perfume bottle. She seems to have broken her last one.”

#kim taehyung fic #kim taehyung smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts mafia smut #kim taehyung mafia smut

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findingjoynweirdstuff · 3 years

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Dream SMP Recap (June 13/2021) - Wall Nut Sales

Fundy and Purpled work in Las Nevadas and notice that the roads of the city are misaligned. Foolish gets into a skirmish with Bad over stolen glass and ends up becoming a walnut salesman to get it back.

A brief summary of the week’s total events can be found at the end of the post.

---

VOD LINKS:

Purpled

Fundy

Ranboo

Foolish

---

- Purpled sets up in Las Nevadas to build a new UFO

- He speaks with Fundy, who shows him the new flag. Fundy also shows Purpled his child, Yogurt. Las Nevadas is lacking in food production

- Fundy walks him through the toll road to the outpost. They take from the farm to grow their own food. Fundy doesn’t approve of them keeping a fox

- Fundy asks if Purpled has met the guy who calls himself “Meat.” Purpled has

- They go up to the Needle and Purpled challenges Fundy to an MLG contest

- Afterwards, Purpled builds a small shack

- They notice that the entire road system is one block misaligned from the casino center

- Purpled continues to go gather resources

- Fundy emerges from his hole in the ground and feeds Yogurt some berries

- Purpled makes a cow hole

- Fundy starts realigning the fountain

- Foolish logs on and Fundy asks him why he’s so handsome. (Foolish drinks chocolate milk)

- Foolish asks if Fundy is griefing Las Nevadas. He draws his weapon and starts drinking a strength potion. Fundy quickly says that he’s just revamping it

- Fundy returns to work on the fountain but sees Foolish put on Dream’s head as he walks away

Fundy: “Oh my god! I guess that’s why I thought he was handsome. That explains it.”

...

Foolish: I’ll be back in las nevadas later cya around!

Fundy: BYE! :3~~~~~~~ **** ^_^ :0 :D :WW::W:W:W

- Fundy keeps working

- He changes his shovel name from “I love HBomb more than 5up” to “Dap me up!”

- He finishes revamping the fountain and works on realigning the road

- Ranboo steals a few blocks of quartz. Fundy pauses the road work and goes over to the outpost

- Fundy plants a berry from outside the lava gate as a magic trick. Ranboo comes through and throws him some cookies

- Fundy finishes realigning the road and goes to the outpost. He sees Foolish lying on the ground beneath a trap door and leaves without another word

- While Ranboo does more outpost work, he occasionally checks on Foolish throughout. Foolish continues to lie on the ground beneath the trap door

- Later, Foolish works on the pyramid at his summer home some more

- He gets passive aggressive with the citizens of L’Sandburg (llamas) and Bad logs on to tell him to stop harassing his citizens. Foolish claims he was just trying to motivate them

- Bad tells his citizens (llamas) to prepare for war. To Foolish, Bad says to enjoy his buildings while he still can

Bad: CITIZENS OF L’SANDBURG! WE WILL DESTROY THE TOTEM MENACE

Bad: IT IS OBVIOUS THAT FLORIDA HAS HAD A NEGATIVE INFLUENCE ON HIM

Bad: HE MUST BE VANQUISHED

Foolish: It would bring me great pleasure to finally hack down your llama citizens

Bad: >:0000000000000

Bad: SO YOU HAVE CHOSEN DEATH

Foolish: no <3

- Bad runs over to meet Foolish face-to-face. He has one canonical bar of ping and slaps Foolish (the traditional greeting of L’Sandburg)

- Foolish notes how laggy Bad is, floating everywhere

Bad: I am currently not fully in this space o_0

- Foolish asks if he is drunk. Bad says that he is magic as he continues to hop around, lagging heavily. Bad steals stacks of glass and Foolish chases after Bad with an axe, attacking him

Foolish: “L’Sandburg was a mistake from the very start. I should’ve never let it -- from the very first moment they put a block of sandstone, I should’ve wiped it off the face of the Earth.”

- Foolish has trouble keeping up with Bad’s laggy movements. Bad starts dropping a trail of the glass on the ground behind him. When Bad finally stops, he offers Foolish a traditional L’Sandburg gift: blue glass

- Bad gets behind a random door on the road and hides. Foolish tries to get him to open it. Bad isn’t interested in cookies, so Foolish tries to sell him insurance. Bad is interested in neither insurance nor vacuums

- Then Foolish claims that he is a wall nut* seller. This sparks Bad’s interest

*the term ”walnut” was taken by another company

- Bad requests chocolate wall nuts. They cost five dollars for five nuts, and Bad throws Foolish one stack of glass for them

- Foolish knocks on the door again. This time, Bad throws him an Efficiency book and requests more wall nuts. Then several emeralds, again requesting another wall nut, then Ender Pearls

- Foolish offers Bad their premium wall nut deal to become a Platinum member. Bad continues to throw Foolish various items, each time requesting a wall nut. In return for the wall nuts, Foolish gets his stacks of glass back

- Foolish is out of wall nuts. Bad gets behind a door with a few spruce blocks as walls surrounding a 1x1 block area

Bad: this is mine

- Foolish asks him what he means. Bad says this block is his. Foolish strongly rejects this, and Bad asks for more wall nuts

- Bad returns to the chest and shoots Foolish. He asks for the arrow back, as it was a family heirloom. He leaves the 1-block house, but takes the door

- Just as Foolish is getting to return to building, Bad calls him for help. He’s trapped in a hole with a cow and turtle. Bad notices that Foolish sparkles (it’s a skin routine, apparently). Bad offers a fish in return for saving him

- Foolish tells Bad to kill the cow first. Bad refuses to kill Jeremiah (the cow), so Foolish starts waterboarding Bad (”accidentally, so it’s okay!”) to calm him down and unintentionally milks Jeremiah

- Bad starts drowning

- Foolish sleeps with both eyes open because he’s built different

- As Bad continues to drown, Foolish tells him that it’s evolution. He is on the way to getting gills, and eventually he will be a fish that Foolish can put in a bucket. Bad is delighted at the idea and tells Foolish that George was a pig yesterday

- The turtle is named Franklin now

Foolish: “Yeah, I’m definitely thinking we should kill one of these, if not both of them, before there’s too much, like, connection, and I’m afraid we’re already a little bit past the point -- it’s just gonna help you move on from the pit, you know?”

- Bad continues drowning as they chat. Finally, Foolish gets rid of the water. He is Bad’s hero, and Bad was the damsel in distress

- He tells Bad to give him the milk bucket, and when Bad refuses, Foolish puts the water back in the pit

Foolish: “Drown, you bastard.”

- Franklin (the turtle) and Jeremiah (the cow) both escape the pit. With only Bad remaining there, they continue to bicker about the bucket for a long while

- Bad finally gets out of the pit with scaffolding

- Foolish murders Benjamin and ends stream

END OF WEEK RECAP:

6/7 - Nothing much happens.

6/8 - Puffy writes a countersuit in the Lore Suit against Ponk

6/9 - Ponk shows Sam the valley, Fundy and Purpled officially join Las Nevadas, Ranboo receives an update from the Council

6/10 - Nothing much happens.

6/11 - Fundy and Tubbo spy on each other at the outpost

6/12 - George gets turned into a pig

6/13 - Fundy and Purpled work in Las Nevadas, Foolish bargains wall nuts with Bad

---

Upcoming Events:

- The court battle

- The final Egg lore stream

- Tales From the SMP: “Space Race”

- Ponk’s lore stream

- Dream’s lore video

#dream smp #dream smp recaps #long posts

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olderjustneverwiser · 3 years

Text

Draw Your Moon to Me (Fred Weasley)

A collection of short stories about time with Fred, heavily influenced by Foxing's latest album Draw Down the Moon, which is an album that everyone should listen to. Lyrics from each song are in italics at the beginning of each part.

Word count: 9.6K (will also be posted on my Ao3 to read in chapters)

Warnings: Fred does The Big Sleep, slight canon divergence, like one scene with an allusion to sex, friends-to-lovers, tooth-rotting fluff, pining, ANGST, so much angst, death, one scene of talk of marriage and kids, writing that gets better after the prologue, lyrics from the album sprinkled in randomly

Most of these images were found on pinterest and they are not mine!

Prologue- 737

The love never believed The dead who never speak The spells we're whispering Draw your moon to me

Two things have been constants since the dawn of man: love and loss.

Love is what created the world. Love is what kept the human race alive since the beginning and made our short time on this planet worthwhile. To live without love is to not live at all, and you saw proof of this every day in the way mothers would happily die for their children and young lovers still chose to be wed even in the middle of a war. You felt it in the way he made you feel weightless and loved when the world got too heavy.

While almost everyone loved, it was an indisputable fact that everyone who ever existed will die. Many have tried to fool death; to either hide from death or gloat some false attempt at immortality right in front of its horrid face, but it was fruitless. We all become dust eventually; nothing more than an empty shell and a memory for those we leave behind. No one can stop death forever, no matter how badly we may want to.

Love and loss have been the only constants in the world since the dawn of man.

You just never would have imagined you would experience both of these for the same person. At least, not so soon.

One- Go Down Together

You and I We'll go down there together Side by side And if you should fall I'll follow behind We'll go down there together

Your lungs burned as you ran, turning down yet another corridor in the vast castle. You willed your legs to carry you quicker while an identical set of redheads ran past you, wide grins adorning both of their faces.

"Having trouble keeping up with us, love?" Fred asked.

"Yeah, I think we may have to leave you behind next time," George continued without missing a beat. "Can't have you slowing us down."

"Oh, come off it," you snapped, "It's not my fault your legs are stupidly long."

The portrait of the fat lady was finally in sight and you breathed a sigh of relief, knowing your destination was close. Fred yelled the password and she slowly opened the portrait hole; scolding him for being so loud at this time of night while doing so. The three of you piled into the common room and finally allowed yourselves to laugh freely now that the prank was over and you were in the common room.

You were safe.

George threw himself down on a worn armchair, finally able to relax since the chances of getting caught now were slim to none. "Ah, I wish I could see the look on old Filch's face right about now. I'll bet he's furious."

"When is he not furious," you joked, taking your seat next to Fred on the sofa. "I'm just glad we made it back."

Fred couldn't help the scoff that left him at your comment, "Oh come on, the possibility of getting caught is half the fun!" He said, ruffling your hair before pulling you closer to him; his arm wrapped around your shoulders.

George raised an eyebrow at his brother's sudden display of affection, causing a blush to blossom on your cheeks. George had figured out your feelings for his twin last year, being the intuitive guy that he is, and to your surprise he never made fun of your feelings (although, he never missed the chance to send some smart comment your way when his brother did anything affectionate). He also never made it super obvious to Fred, and for that you were grateful. You wanted to keep your feelings to yourself for a little longer, if you could help it.

"I think we should try and hit Mad-Eye next," Fred exclaimed, "He's sure to give us a run for our galleons."

"Mad-Eye?" You asked incredulously, horrified at the thought of possibly getting caught by him.

"Yeah! We haven't hit a Dark Arts professor since we got Lockhart in fourth year."

"But he's scary!" You knew you must have sounded like a child, but you couldn't help it. He was scary and his bionic eye freaked you out.

"You know," George looked directly at you, a knowing glint in his eye, "You're always so nervous to join in on our fun. I wonder if there's another reason you're so keen to be friends with us." He wore the faintest hint of a smirk as he finished his statement, and you had half a mind to wipe it right off.

"You're right, George. I have no idea why I agree to be seen with you idiots, either." You replied as nonchalantly as you could, silently pleading with him to give it up.

George barked out a laugh and threw his hands up in defeat at your words, agreeing to drop the subject, "Fine, fine. You win."

Fred wasn't ready to let his comment go, though. "Georgie has a point, you know. You're not really a big prankster like us."

"You're my best friend, Fred. Doesn't it come with the territory?"

George feigned offense at your words, "What am I, just some bloke that hangs around?"

"You know you're both my best friends."

"Just indulge us. Why do you do it?" Fred asked.

You paused, carefully choosing your words before speaking, "It's the rush of possibly getting caught. You and George; you do it for attention, or to cause mayhem, or just to test what you two are capable of. When I first got roped into one of your practical jokes back in first year, I liked it for the same reasons, but now I like the rush it gives. The run back to safety, or watching from behind the nearest corner and hoping you're not seen. It's like being on a roller coaster; you're terrified during all of the swoops and drops, but you're breathless near the end and excited to do it again. It's exhilarating." You don't tell him that it's fun or exhilarating because of him, or the fact that he makes you feel alive when life gets you down; you're keeping that close to the chest for now. "Besides, we're in it together for the long haul, aren't we? If you go down, then we'll go down together."

You pointedly ignored the shit-eating grin on George's face. He could really just sod off.

Your reasoning seemed to be enough for Fred however, if his smile was any indication. "We'll go down together," he repeated, pulling you closer to him, "I like that."

Two- Beacons

I'm running with you now, we're a stampede, tell me Everything I know about love Now it's thicker than my blood I thought I couldn't move my feet, but I'm Running with you now, we're a stampede

School was out for summer, Fred's two favorite people were with him, and he was feeling good.

Not to mention the fact that he and George were officially adults as of April 1st, and they could quite literally do anything they wanted with their lives thanks to the prize money Harry had given them. Fred had decided that absolutely nothing was going to ruin his good mood today; not even the horrible news that the Dark Lord was back. It may have been selfish of him since he knew the whole situation was quite awful, but it was the first full day of summer, the family was finally able to celebrate their 17th birthdays, and you were leaving to go home in the morning.

Despair and dread would just have to wait a little longer.

It had been a perfect day of swimming in the lake behind the house and playing quidditch, followed by a huge birthday dinner cooked by his mum, complete with cake and a few presents as well. His parents got him and George matching watches, as it was customary to give a watch to a young wizard turning seventeen. Bill and Charlie gave them each a Gringotts bank note, knowing that they'd much rather have money for their shop than anything else. You had given them their gift on their actual birthday at Hogwarts; a lovely trunk with Weasley & Weasley stamped proudly on the front of it, ("For your wheezes," you'd said, "just don't tell your mum I said that.")

Since the party was over and everyone was too exhausted from the day to do much of anything else, Fred and George ended up wandering to the backyard, making plans for their shop and eventually, talking about you.

"Have you noticed a change in her?" Fred asked his brother. When he noticed the confused look on George's face he elaborated, "I mean, she's still her, but since the ball she seems a little different."

"I wondered when you'd finally realize it, mate." George said with a smile.

"What? Did she say something to you that night?"

"She says it all the time, you just don't know how to listen."

"Oi, stop with the bloody riddles."

"I really have to spell it out for you, don't I?" George sighed. "You didn't hear this from me, but I think she was a little upset that you went with Angelina."

"But why? She likes Angelina."

"Yeah, but do you?"

Fred didn't even have to think about his answer because no, he didn't like Angelina; not even close to the way he liked you.

"Ah! Speak of the devil." Fred looked up from the blades of grass he had been playing with and saw you, standing over them with a concerned look on your face and a small box behind your back.

"What are you two planning?" You asked.

"Nothing, my dear," said George, brushing grass off of his trousers as he stood, "but I think this is where I leave the two of you." With a subtle wink thrown in Fred's direction, he was off, leaving you and Fred alone under the stars.

"Should I be worried for my own well being?" You asked, taking George's spot against the tree Fred was leaning on.

He shook his head, "Not at all, love. Just discussing business plans."

You weren't convinced, but you let it go for now, placing the black box in Fred's hand. "Well, I have something for you."

"But you already gave us our gift."

"Yes, but I wanted to give the two of you something else," you explained, "It's really for you both, but since George ran off, I reckon you can give him his later."

Fred was intrigued, and he opened the box to reveal two silk ties, one deep purple with little orange designs all around it and the other the exact contrast; bright orange with purple details lining it. It was one of the nicest things anyone had ever given him, and the fact that it came from you made it all the more special.

"Obviously, there's one for each of you," you said as Fred ran his fingers along the soft fabric, "I thought when you finally open your shop, you can wear these on opening day. If you like them, of course. If not I can just bring-"

Fred stopped your rambling with a bone crushing hug, which you reciprocated after a moment. You seemed to soften into him instantly; your nerves seemingly calmed.

"I love them," He mumbled into your hair, truly meaning it. For a moment, he was amazed at how lucky he was to have you in his life. He thought of how he loved you, and if you could ever possibly feel the same as he did. His mind wandered to the conversation he had with his twin minutes ago about you not liking his choice of date for the stupid ball, and something clicked.

Fred pulled away from you suddenly, his hands still on your shoulders as he searched your face for any indication of your feelings. You seemed to shine even in the vast darkness of the country night, and Fred briefly thought of some metaphor for a light in dark times. He swore he saw a pleading look in your eye, but he lost his nerve; a rare moment for Fred Weasley. It had been a perfect day, and he wouldn't ruin it by confessing one-sided feelings.

Those would just have to wait, too.

"Really, thank you. Although now I suppose I have to get you a second gift too, don't I?"

"I'd expect nothing less," you teased, nudging his shoulder before leaning into him, and while you both traced constellations in the night sky, Fred thought this was a perfect ending to a perfect day with you.

Three- Draw Down the Moon

I want to draw down the moon For nothing but to deserve you Oh, but I want to show you, I I can keep it all together

You couldn't sleep.

While you normally slept soundly on your first night back at Hogwarts; being too exhausted by the journey to do anything other than sleep; this bed squeaked, Alicia was snoring, and you just couldn't turn your brain off.

You were thinking of Fred, of course.

He had been...different since you arrived at 12 Grimmauld Place a week before. At first you chalked it up to being in a strange place; you usually joined the Wesley's at the Burrow the week before term started, so you figured he was adjusting to life in a different setting. It could be the impending war that was making him act differently, or maybe it was the fact that he and George had turned 17 a few months prior, and now that they were officially adults, Fred felt that he didn't need to go back to school.

Alicia made her opinions clear to you at the welcoming feast, but you quickly waved them off. As much as you wanted her to be right, you couldn't let your heart accept the possibility that Fred may harbor the same feelings for you that you've had for him for so long. It would hurt too much when you'd inevitably find out that all he would ever view you as was his closest friend.

Finally having enough of this squeaky bed after one too many turns, you decided to go into the common room, making a mental note to find a book on household charms in the library the next day. You tiptoed out of the shared room and down the stairs to your favorite seat in the common room. It was a big chaise lounge with lots of pillows and since it was right up against the large window, it allowed you a perfect view of the moon on clear nights.

Once you were finally comfortable, you allowed your mind to wander yet again. That is, until a voice interrupted your thoughts.

"Couldn't sleep either I reckon?"

You couldn't help the frightened shriek that left you at Fred's sudden greeting, causing a wide smile to stretch on his face. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"

"What, you thought I was You-Know-Who coming to get you?" He joked, "Mind if I sit with you?"

Once your breathing returned to normal, you nodded, shifting so he could sit behind you with his back against the chaise; his arms around you and your back pressed against his chest. Alicia's words rang in your ear, her insistence of 'Everyone knows he fancies you. Everyone but you, of course,' but still, you buried them. This was not the first time you and Fred had cuddled, and you knew it wouldn't be the last. This was normal.

Perfectly normal for...just friends to do. Right?

"So why couldn't you sleep?" His voice once again broke you out of your reverie, and you searched your brain for a suitable response.

"My new bed is loud, I didn't wanna wake the girls up. I'll need to find time to look up a spell to fix it tomorrow." He muttered what sounded like an incantation in your ear in response. You turned to look at him, "What was that?"

"The charm to fix anything squeaky, obviously."

You stared at him, "Do I even want to know how you know that spell?"

Fred shook his head, "Don't be a prat, it's nothing like that."

"Sure," you answered, hating the pang of jealousy you felt, even though his response should have comforted you. "Your turn, Freddie. What's keeping you up on this lovely evening?"

He took a beat before answering, "Remember when we threw snowballs at Quirrel in our third year, not knowing we were actually hitting Voldy in the face?"

You chuckled, happy to be away from the conversation of squeaky beds, "I don't think that'll ever stop being funny."

"No, I don't believe it will."

You were quiet for a moment, "Remember when you nearly gave me a heart attack by trying to put your name in the goblet last year?"

"Hey! Georgie and I would've done okay if we could have made it in."

"You would have died if you would have been in that cemetery with Harry, what would I have done then?"

That quickly shut him up, leaving both of you in somewhat of an awkward silence until he spoke up again. "Remember when you went to the ball with George last year?"

Well, this was not where you expected this to go.

You turned to face him again to find he was already looking at you, "Only because you went with Angelina," you answered slowly.

Fred nodded, "Yeah, sorry 'bout that." His voice was quiet now, "I didn't think that one through."

"Why does this matter now, Freddie?"

"You know, everyone thinks my brother and I are fearless, but that's not true," you raised your eyebrow at this seemingly random statement, but he went on. "I thought I was, but it just took me a while to find out what I'm afraid of."

"Fred, what are you-"

"I wanted to ask you to go to the ball, only I didn't know how you felt about me, so I kept my distance and tried to stop how I felt. But what I've realized is that I'm never gonna stop loving you. If I could, I would have done it by now. I thought I was scared of screwing this up, but what I was really scared of is losing you," he took a breath, "I love you, so I'm facing my fear and telling you because I think you love me too."

Fred waited with bated breath for you to say something, but your brain seemed to have short circuited around the 'I'm never gonna stop loving you' part. Thankfully seeing his hopeful expression falter after a few moments snapped you out of your trance, "I swear if this is some sick joke I will never speak to you again, Fred Weasley."

Fred's face fell even more; affronted by the fact that you thought he would ever joke about this. Instead of replying, Fred placed a careful hand on your cheek and brought his lips to yours, and you felt like you had been submerged in water and now were finally breathing fresh air again. It was a strange mix of refreshed and utterly over the moon, and it was a feeling you'd never tire of.

He pulled away after a moment, and you realized you hadn't given him an answer yet. With a smile and a flutter in your chest, you whispered "I'm never gonna stop loving you either, Freddie."

Four- Where The Lightning Strikes Twice

When cartilage leaves our knees and Sky refuses to weep well I will stand ancient with you And if I'm too high to speak but Too drunk to shut up Let me take my time, let me find my words

Hogwarts was truly an awful place to be this school year.

You never thought you'd string those words together, but life under Umbridge's thumb was quickly becoming too terrible to bear. With Dumbledore gone and Umbridge fully backed by the Ministry, it was a wonder anyone at Hogwarts had held on this long. The entire student body was miserable, and the more you noticed students with scarred hands, the angrier you got, and life at Hogwarts seemed to get more hopeless.

Apart from Harry, this school year seemed to be taking a toll on the twins more than anyone. They had been banned from Quidditch and just about every other activity they enjoyed, they were tied with Harry for the amounts of detentions they had received, and they weren't learning anything in their classes; too mentally exhausted to pay much attention in the classroom.

Not that they were planning on using the skills they learned in the classroom in their adult lives, anyway.

You knew they were opening the joke shop right after graduation. To peers in the hallways and friends in DA lessons, the toys and treats Fred and George carried in their trunk were just welcomed distractions from the gloomy days at Hogwarts. You knew what they really were, though. You knew they were testing their products; seeing what would sell and what wouldn't, taking note of any side effects their candies may have. The twins were intelligent, more so than most gave them credit for, and they were planning something big.

You were happy for them, of course. Opening their very own store was their dream, and you wanted them to be happy more than anything else, but you also wondered when exactly they'd put their plan into action. They had been dropping little hints for weeks now, saying things like "If we wait until graduation" and things of the sort. While you wanted them to do what was right for them, you couldn't bear the thought of them leaving before the end of term. You had no idea how you'd survive these last few months alone at Hogwarts.

It had been a quiet day in the castle. No new decrees had been implemented, and Umbridge was overseeing the fifth years taking their OWLs in the Great Hall. The common room was quiet until Fred and George came rushing down the stairs from their dorm room each with a duffle bag slung over their shoulders and two brooms in George's hands.

And you felt your heart drop at the realization that this was it.

"There you are!" Fred shouted, noticing you by the window. He shot a look to his brother, and George mentioned something about waiting outside before leaving through the portrait hole.

Fred took a seat by you and grabbed your hand, although he could barely sit still in his apparent excitement. It was a sharp contrast to how you felt in the moment.

"Today's the day, innit?" Your voice quivered, though you already knew the answer.

He nodded eagerly, "It is, my love! We decided late last night. Everything's ready, the storefront is ours, and we can't take that pink toad anymore. This is it, our grand exit! It's going to be bloody brilliant, just you wait. I can't wait to see her face! Hogwarts will never see anything like this again!" He was too excited to stop his rambling, and in your heart you knew this was the right thing. Seeing the passion in his eyes made you feel a little better, but the fact that he was leaving you still stung.

"So I guess this is it for a while, huh?" You asked through a forced smile. "Promise you'll write, at least."

If possible, Fred's smile grew even more, "Ah, on the contrary. We want you to come with us today."

Uh, what?

Before waiting for you to answer, he continued on, "Come on, you didn't think I'd leave you here, did you? It'll be great; you can run the shop with us; work on the books or help with new product ideas!"

Your mind was racing; you never expected this to ever even be a possibility. Yet here it was; a chance to leave Hogwarts and Umbridge forever. A chance to drop out of school with only six weeks of term left. You couldn't even think about how angry your parents would be.

"Freddie," you started, "this is all very sudden."

"I know, and I'm so sorry, love. We planned on staying until graduation, really, but it's time. I won't blame you if you don't come with us, and of course I'll write to you constantly if you choose to stay. I just didn't think you'd want to and I don't want you to, either."

After many moments of silent deliberation you came to your decision. It was really the only choice, but it still hurt your heart to say, "Fred, I can't." The joyous look on his face fell, just a little, and it made you feel even worse. "I want to go with you so badly, and I'll miss you both so much, but it's only a few weeks. I'll graduate, and then I'll be right there to help with the shop."

Fred nodded, heaving out a sigh before speaking, "Well, I can't say that I'm not surprised or a little sad, but I respect your decision. Just know that I will be here on graduation day ready to take you to the flat Georgie and I are getting above the shop."

"I can't wait," you said, "I'll be there until you don't want me anymore."

"Well then I guess you'll be by my side until we're ancient." He punctuated his statement with a searing kiss, one meant to get you both through the coming weeks. "At least come to see us off?"

After you met George outside of the common room, the three of you ran to the Great Hall, and your best friends began their grand exit. Parchment whirled all over, purple and pink fireworks bursted all around you, and Fred swooped down on his broom to give you a final kiss, just to piss Umbridge off even more. You watched the boys fly off into the sky, and though you were hurting, you knew this was the right thing for them, and you'd be with Fred again soon enough. This time for good.

Five- Bialystok

Sacred insignificance Steeped in cosmic bliss I'm dragging myself back home But I'm homesick everywhere I go Oh, without you

Today was the first day Fred hadn't thought about the upcoming war in months.

It almost felt selfish to not think about it since people were disappearing every day, but Fred's mind just couldn't seem to go there after the day he was having.

After a busy morning at the shop with Hogwarts students stocking up goodies during the Christmas holiday, he left at around a quarter to one, taking the steps two at a time until he reached the flat above their joke shop, where you were waiting for him with a smile and a hot cup of tea.

Really, how could he think of all of the despair in the world when he got to come to this? This cozy, beautiful life the two of you were building together meant everything to him, and he was more than thankful to be able to walk home to you every day, knowing that he was one of the lucky ones. Not everyone gets to go home in times like these.

The two of you had decided to take it easy; just lay on the couch watching the muggle television you had insisted on buying when the three of you first moved in. It really hadn't taken much convincing for either Fred or George, and you quickly made it a focal point in your living room for movie nights. (Fred also couldn't deny that he absolutely loved seeing his father's face light up at the sight of it each time he visited, ‘Oh, what geniuses those Muggles are,' he'd exclaim, 'They even call them 'move'-ies, what fun!')

In the spirit of relaxation and taking it easy the two of you quickly changed into comfortable clothes and laid on the couch, your head on Fred's chest, not doing much of anything at all but watching some cheesy Christmas movie you had found.

The movie had ended, so you shifted your gaze from the television to Fred's face, resting your chin on the backs of your hands. Fred tightened his arm around you, using his other hand to flick a few stray pieces of hair that had fallen in your face and he felt...peace.

Because you weren't just his girlfriend, or his best friend; you were his home. The reason to wake up, to walk on, and to fight. He'd draw down the moon for you if he had to; just to prove his love to you.

"Whatcha thinking about, Freddie?" You asked, noting the pensive look on his handsome face.

"Just you, and us."

"Us?" Your curiosity was piqued and your cheeks turned the lightest shade of pink.

Adorable, he thought.

"Yeah, y'know, just this. Watching television next to you, dancing to your muggle music in the kitchen. It's nice, innit? Seemingly insignificant to an outsider, perhaps, but these little moments of bliss mean everything to me." He knew he was being a sap, but seeing the way his words made you smile made him not mind it one bit. "I feel homesick everywhere I go without you."

The blush on your cheeks deepened even more, "Well then I guess it's my job to always make sure you feel at home."

"You already do, love. I'm gonna marry you, y'know." It was an open secret between the two of you and everyone else you knew that you were destined for each other. Although you were young, just halfway to nineteen, it was obvious to anyone that spent more than ten minutes around the both of you. Still, the mention of this must have excited you, because you swung a leg over his body and moved to straddle his waist, pressing a quick kiss to his nose.

"I don't suppose I'll know when this proposal is coming, do I?"

"Of course not, it has to be a complete surprise."

"Just no grand, public gestures."

"Only the grandest for you, my love. Fireworks in the sky, dancers in the streets of Diagon, the whole nine!"

You shook your head, smiling despite yourself "Okay, but we'll need a house of our own after this spectacle. Any thoughts?"

Fred's answer was on the tip of his tongue, "A home on the outskirts of the city, with a big yard and lots of space for my experiments."

"And a big kitchen with a big table for when your family comes to visit."

Fred hummed in agreement, "And enough rooms for a few little troublemakers of our own, hmm?"

You pretended to think about this for a moment, “I don't know if I can handle any more Fred Weasleys in the world."

"Oh, shut it," he muttered, pressing a firm kiss to your lips, moving to a sitting position in the process; your legs still on either side of his as his hands began to inch your shirt over your head.

"A little eager, are we?" You asked, laughter in your voice as his fingers tickled your sides.

"What can I say; I guess this talk about kids got me excited and Georgie is out for a few more hours. Plus, I wanna practice."

Six- At Least We Found The Floor

"Well honey, at least you found the floor It can't get much worse than this" "Hey honey, this isn't the floor yet It's gonna get much worse than this"

Muggles had this saying; a turn of phrase that never really made sense to you:

Never say that things can't get worse, because they always will if you do.

You thought it was a load of bollocks. No one person was able to change what was going to happen just by speaking those words; Fate's mind was already made up. You rathered a different muggle phrase: If it's meant to happen, it will.

Things were getting worse each day in the wizarding world. It seemed like Dumbledore's death had been a catalyst; a way to open the floodgates and allow You-Know-Who to increase his numbers and put more of his master plan into action. Then there were more disappearances and murders, and of course the awful flight to get Harry which resulted in George losing a damn ear and Mad-Eye losing his life.

The wedding got ambushed, then Harry, Ron, and Hermione went missing, and since that night it's seemed like everything got even worse.

Fred was halfway out of his mind at this point. He had a tendency to fully immerse himself in anything he truly cared about, which could be both a blessing and a curse at times. It's what made him so gifted at charms and a successful business owner, but at times he'd make himself sick working ridiculous hours and forget to eat. Oftentimes when the shop first opened you'd wake up at one or two in the morning to find him at the dining table designing products or obsessing over the numbers. If he cared about a cause, he'd throw himself into it completely. Lately, it was The Order and Potterwatch. While you admired his dedication, you were starting to worry about his mental wellbeing.

Not even the Christmas season had raised the spirits of the Wesleys. With Ginny at school, Percy still being a prat, and Ron wherever he was, the family didn't think a get together was even worth it.

Despite the gloom this season, today was Boxing Day and Fred, George, and yourself had decided to visit Bill and Fleur. What you weren't expecting is for Ron to be there as well, looking even more scruffy than normal. The six of you spent the evening drinking and making plans for the war while listening to Ron talk about what they had been doing for the months they'd been gone. As you listened, you could tell that Ron held a lot back; not wanting to tell the full truth of what they were doing. You also noticed Fred getting more fidgety as his story went on.

After quite a few butterbeers and one too many yelling matches between Ron and Bill about Ron's recklessness, Ron, George, Bill and Fleur had gone up to bed, leaving you and Fred alone on the pull out sofa in the sitting room. He had been quiet, picking at his nails and staring at nothing.

"Knut for your thoughts?"

Your question seemed to snap Fred from his thoughts. "Just can't believe what Ron was saying earlier, 'bout them going hunting. We all knew they were doing something for the cause, but I didn't think they'd be daft enough to actually go hunting You-Know-Who."

"They're smart and Harry knows what he's doing, they'll be okay," you reasoned, only half heartedly believing what you were saying.

Fred rubbed his face furiously, keeping whatever tears may come at bay. "Everything is just so messed up. My little brother has been gallivanting all over England looking for evil incarnate, Ginny is probably being tortured over at school, and the world is going to shite and it's only getting worse."

You wished you could offer him any kind of comfort, but you knew this side of Fred. It was one that probably only you and George saw; one where the Fred everyone loved was overshadowed by one full of fear, dread, and pessimism. The only thing you could do to try to quell his nerves is hold his hand to let him know you were still here for him. You knew the demon in his ear wouldn't accept any words of comfort you'd think of, so the two of you sat on the couch in silence with his hand in yours.

"I want you to stay here for a while, please." He said suddenly.

"Excuse me?"

"Please," he repeated, "It's getting worse; I've got this feeling in the pit of my stomach that's telling me something bad is happening soon. Not a lot of people know about this place; you should stay here, help Bill and Fleur with the Order. You'll be safer."

"And what about you, Fred?" You nearly shouted, aware of the others sleeping upstairs but not really caring at this moment. The silence that followed told you everything you needed to know. "You're seriously leaving me here?"

"Only for a little while. I'll come visit as often as I can, of course, but this place is safer than the city. Just until this is all over. After we win and it's safe, I swear we'll be together, if you'll have me. I'll spend my life making this up to you." A tear escaped him, then another, until they flowed freely down his face and you knew he wasn't only crying for you, but also for his family and the terrible truth that the good side might not win this war. Soon you allowed yourself to cry with him; sharing last kisses and drying your tears until the two of you finally found sleep.

You were cold when you woke the next morning; Fred's side of the bed showed no signs that anyone had been there only a few hours before. You were alone, and you couldn't help but wonder if things could get any worse.

Seven- Cold Blooded

I wish that I could get out of my head but I'm back in it again It feels the same at least

You truly believed that you had run out of tears to cry.

The last few years had been trying for everyone in the Wizarding World, and although you knew that other people had far more important problems than you, you were sick of the sadness that surrounded you. You had cried for Cedric, for Sirius, Dumbledore, Mad Eye, and the countless muggleborns that were being hunted down everyday. You missed the childlike wonder you experienced during your time at Hogwarts, and you desperately tried to hold on to the hope that your side would win this war. For the first few months after Christmas, you also cried for you and Fred.

That was one of the only things keeping you going, really. Fred's promise rang in your head every day, 'After we win and it's safe, I swear we'll be together, if you'll have me. I'll spend my life making this up to you.' Part of you couldn't really blame him for what he did. He was only doing what he felt in his heart was the right thing to do, and it's not like he broke up with you or said he no longer loved you, so it could have been worse.

Part of you was also still incredibly pissed off at him, however.

What did he think he was doing, leaving you like this? Loathe as you were to admit it, you needed him. Especially now when the world was darker than ever, you needed the light he brought into your life. So yeah, you were pissed. Pissed off at the world, the war, and at Fred for leaving you alone, flailing in the dust with hot, angry tears falling from your eyes the first few nights at Shell Cottage.

Fred had only visited Shell Cottage a handful of times since Boxing Day. While he was with you, your worries would subside and your heart felt a little lighter, but then he'd leave with a kiss and a heartfelt 'I love you' and your world would get darker again.

By the time May came around, you were sick of it all. Sick of the worry and grief and hearing Fred's voice on Potterwatch more than you saw him in person. You were also sick of living on this bloody beach, so when the three of you got the call that Harry had shown up at Hogwarts to fight, you were the first to grab your wand and apparate to the Hog's Head.

After crawling through the tunnel connecting the bar to Hogwarts, you were met with members of the Order and dozens of students gathered in what looked like the Room of Requirement. You scanned the room for anyone with red hair, finding Arthur, Ron, Ginny, and finally Fred.

You were running before you even realized; it had been at least two months since he had visited Shell Cottage and missed him more than you thought you could miss one person. He turned as you neared him, and you ran right into his open arms.

"Hello, love," Fred said, placing a quick kiss on your hair.

You pulled away as Kingsley addressed the room, but Fred kept one arm around your shoulders. It was one of the things you missed most; the comfort he could bring you with just a touch.

While the Order made their plans for the battle, Fred volunteered the three of you to guard the entrances to the school. You noticed a fire in his eyes as he spoke, and it seemed like the adrenaline of the fight and finally being together again sparked something in Fred. He was no longer the Fred that left you on Boxing Day, the daring, determined, "anything is possible" Fred Weasley was back.

Teachers, Order members, and students disbursed all around you, and you knew it was time. George threw the two of you a wink before running off towards the entrances, yelling something about seeing you both later. Fred's arm left your shoulder but his hands quickly found yours, "Are you ready?"

You nodded, and Fred pressed one final kiss to your lips. It was soft and warm and over far too soon, and you tried to take in everything about the moment that you could. How his hands gently squeezed yours, the way a simple kiss made you feel like you were flying. The two of you stayed like that, foreheads touching, sharing a silent prayer and a brief moment of peace before you joined George for the fight.

Fred pulled away first, and you knew it was time. You both took a breath and ran off, hand in hand, into the chaos that awaited.

Eight- If I Believed In Love

Every time I run wild from the hint at heaven Oh now, what do you believe in? Every day I spent pent up in a blind I wonder Oh now, what do you believe in?

As a child, you truly believed that love was the key to everything. The books your mother read to you as a youngster fueled that belief, all with a princess in need of saving and a dashing knight who would do anything to help her. They made you believe that a life without love had to be bleak and miserable.

You grew up, and you knew that your parents loved you. You saw evidence of their love every day, even if they didn't say it. Then you met the twins, then Mrs. Weasley, and you saw the epitome of motherly love in her. Her love towards her children, and even her 'adopted' children, was unyielding and true, and it comforted you to see such love in one person.

You knew you loved Fred at a young age, but it was the same way you loved George, and Ron, and Ginny and Charlie. Before long, however, you realized that you were in love with him. It terrified and exhilarated you at the same time, not knowing if he would share in your love. Then he kissed you and told you that yes, he loved you too, and you swore you would never feel that feeling with anyone else.

But, if war was good for anything, it shook one's belief in goodness, kindness, and most importantly, love.

The Order had arrived at the castle just a few hours ago, but it felt like you had been fighting for days. The air around you reeked of blood and smoke and death, and the battle showed no signs of stopping anytime soon. Love wasn't going to save you now; your silly childhood belief that love would conquer all had no place here. Only fighting for that love was going to help you.

George, Fred, and yourself were near the school's main entrance, doing all you could to fend off the enemy. After shooting a hex at a masked Death Eater, you turned to your left and assisted George with two assailants he was currently struggling against. Fred had run off around the corner minutes ago, undoubtedly following a Death Eater, but you didn't have time to think about him right now. All you could do was focus on the evil in front you.

Once the smaller of the two was petrified and the other thrown over the rampart, the high pitched, sickening voice of Voldemort permeated the air. It felt like it was in your brain, piercing it, and a quick look at George confirmed that he was in the same boat as you; covering his ears as a feeble attempt to alleviate the painful stabbing in his head. As his announcement ended you finally breathed, finding little room to relax once you realized you'd get a short respite from the fighting.

"You okay?" George asked you, scanning your face for any signs of pain or discomfort.

"Yeah, you?" With a brief nod of his head, you breathed a sigh of relief. "Good, let's go get Freddie."

But as the two of you turned the corner and saw Fred, motionless on the stone floor, the little relief you had felt moments ago left you.

You didn't want to believe it; couldn't believe it. The thought of Fred not being on this earth anymore was too awful to even consider. Anything was better than that; you hoped he was petrified or that this was just an awful prank gone too far. But somehow you knew, deep down, that this was not the case. You wanted to be sick; you wanted to scream until your throat was raw and the crushing pain you felt in your chest was overshadowed by anything else, but you couldn't. It seemed like some twisted nightmare that you desperately hoped to wake from, but the ache in your heart was far too vivid to be a dream.

Fred was dead.

You barely heard George's anguished scream as he ran to his brother's body and you fought to breathe. Your legs seemed to move on their own as you reached the pair of them; slowly kneeling before Fred. Deep, brown eyes, open but unseeing and his lips frozen into a smile. You weren't crying, you couldn't even breathe as you looked at Fred's face; too shocked to do anything but stare as a line of blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

Your heart ached for George, and you knew you had to keep your composure for his sake. Using one hand to stroke Fred's cheek, you placed the other on George's arm and squeezed. "George," your voice was quiet and scratchy as you tried to catch a breath and swallow your tears down. "George, we have to go."

"No!" He wailed, clutching his brother's jacket even tighter, resting his forehead on Fred's chest as he cried.

"We have to bring his body back," you croaked after a few moments, "We have to carry him back. He deserves that."

George looked at you then, with shuddering breaths and heavy red-rimmed eyes. His body shook as he fought between the logic in your words and the pain he felt in his heart, but after a few minutes and more than a few tears, George nodded once and stood, preparing himself to carry his twin's body.

The walk back to the Great Hall was slow and quiet; the only sounds you paid attention to were the combined scrapes of your shoes on the ground and George's whimpers. You kept your gaze straight the whole walk, refusing to look down at Fred's face or think about anything other than getting to the Great Hall.

Your resolve was threatening to snap as you and George entered the Great Hall. You spotted the Weasley clan looking towards the doors; obviously waiting for their three missing sons. Mrs. Weasley was the first to see you, and you were able to pinpoint the exact second she realized that something was very wrong. The look on her face would haunt you for the rest of your life, but still you kept your gaze forward.

You watched as Ginny buried her head into Charlie's chest, and Bill wrapped a tight arm around his mother while Percy stood dumbfounded at what he was seeing. Finally you reached them and carefully laid Fred's body in front of them.

And that's when you broke, and the tears finally came as you dropped onto your knees. You cried for this family that would forever be broken, and for George who would live the rest of his life missing a piece of himself. You cried for Fred, gone way too soon from this world. For the time you lost and the final kiss you and Fred shared tonight. Finally, you cried for the life that you and Fred would never have now, and for the fact that you knew you would never find another love like the love he gave you.

A shaky set of warm arms wrapped around your shoulders, and part of you couldn't care less who it was, but then you heard the voice of the Weasley patriarch. "Fred would have made you my daughter-in-law one day, you know." His voice wavered at his son's name, but he was trying to stay strong for his family. "He's gone now, but he'll always be a part of us, you will always be a part of us, and we'll always love you."

He was genuine, but his words meant nothing to you. Fred was dead, and you thought to yourself that if this is what love felt like, then you didn't want it.

Nine- Speak With The Dead

In my dreams I'm on a porch with you I promise you I've been doing well in your name And I won't try to speak with you again Until I watch my last breath dissipate

It had been a little over one year since the Battle, and you were not okay.

Although, you suspected that no one really was. You knew that Harry still had nightmares of hearing Voldemort's voice in his head, and poor Andromeda was growing older by the day, and it was getting difficult for her to chase after one year old Teddy. George still refused to have mirrors in the flat above the joke shop the two of you still shared, and, well, you'd been dealing with Fred's death in your own way.

Since the Battle, you had been having dreams about him. They didn't come every night, but when they did they were glorious. Sometimes you would get to relive memories in these dreams; like late night love confessions or having snowball fights at Hogwarts. Other nights you got glimpses of what could have been. Once, you dreamed you and Fred were swinging on a big cypress swing on a back porch, watching identical little girls with unruly red hair chase each other. You knew it was incredibly unhealthy, but the nights where you could talk to Fred were the only things keeping you from going under. You told people you were fine and getting over it, but anyone who claimed that they were getting over the war was a damn liar. It infuriated you to hear about how 'great' everyone was doing these days.

So when you received the invitation via a proud looking tawny owl, you were initially furious.

Clean up at Hogwarts had only taken a few months thanks to the help of magic, and Headmistress Mcgonagall wasted no time in getting the students back in the classrooms the following September. Now, the beginning of June was quickly approaching, and seventh year students would be the first graduating class since Voldemort was defeated. Which caused for even more celebration, obviously.

You read over the auburn lettering once more as George walked into the flat, "Hogwarts School Invites Every Friend, Family Member, and War Veteran to Share in Celebration With Our First Graduating Class Since The Defeat on 12 June, and to Embrace the New, Better Wizarding World."

It made you want to be sick.

"Whatcha got there?" George asked, clearly recognizing the Hogwarts stationary. You read the letter to him and he scoffed, ripping the paper from your hands and swiftly lighting it on fire with his wand. "Bold of anyone to assume we'd ever want to go back to that place."

He'd stalked off to his room and slammed the door, and that was the last time either of you had discussed it. As days went by, and you remembered that two of those graduates were Ginny and Hermione, you begrudgingly decided to attend. George had adamantly refused, and you hadn't pressed. So on the bright morning of June 12th you apparated to the makeshift apparition spot in your nicest dress robes, a Draught of Peace in your pockets just in case.

You grew bored around the third hour of the party and needed to find somewhere to be alone, so you sneaked out of the hall and began to wander. You had found a secluded little hallway on the second floor, one that you couldn't remember finding during your time at Hogwarts. You were starting to calm down in the deserted hallway, but once you started making your way to the end, you heard a voice that made you stop.

"Peeves, it's graduation day, mate. School year's over. We have all summer to plan next year's pranks." The voice made your breath catch, and you had to lean into the wall to keep your balance. "Even a dead man has to take a rest, y'know." Fred's voice was getting louder, and soon you were met with the ghost of Fred, stuck at age twenty but still smiling all the same.

The two of you stood there, staring at each other for who knows how long, before it became too much and you crumbled; the wall the only thing keeping you standing as you sobbed.

All Fred could do was stand and watch, so that's exactly what he did. It was a while before he spoke, "You're here for the celebration, aren't you?"

You nodded, no doubt ruining your makeup as you desperately tried to dry your tears. "Why are you here?" You asked.

"Ah, I won't be here forever. I couldn't leave without George. I figured I'd stay here, raise hell for a while, then George and I could go to that unknown place together, not that I want that time to come anytime soon," he suddenly turned serious. "How is he, by the way?"

"Do you have to ask? He's bloody miserable without you, we all are."

"Even you?"

You turned back to look at him, "Fred, I don't think I'll ever not be miserable without you." Tears burned your eyes again and you let them fall, this whole day had you too mentally exhausted to fight them.

Standing next to you, Fred ached to touch you, offering any comfort he could, but he knew it was fruitless. While he'd be able to feel your skin, you wouldn't be able to feel anything, and that was bound to upset you even more. So he stood, watching and hoping you'd calm down soon.

"Will you do me a favor, love?" He asked quietly once your breathing had leveled out. "Please, try to be happy without me. I know it'll be difficult but you have to try."

He had a teasing inflection in his voice and you rolled your eyes, although it made the corners of your mouth turn up ever so slightly "This is not the time to make a joke-"

"It's always the right time to make a joke, especially if it makes you smile. But in all seriousness, I can't be the one to make you happy anymore, so you need to find someone who will."

You knew he was right; you'd known it for a while. Still, it hurt to face that reality. A life without hearing Fred's laugh, or seeing his smile light up the room, was not a life you wanted to have. You knew you had to, though, and somehow that hurt even more.

"I can't promise that you won't visit me in dreams, or that I won't cry when I see a picture of us together. But, I can promise that I will try to find happiness and love again."

"Good, because I don't want you to live a lonely life." He continued, a mischievous smile suddenly gracing his grey features, "It would just kill me to learn that you've been unhappy, love."

You barely felt your jaw drop as his comment, but despite yourself, a chuckle bubbled up and left you. Then you couldn't stop laughing, and once Fred joined in you laughed even harder. When was the last time you laughed like this? With Fred, no doubt? It felt good to laugh, and you hadn't felt good in a long time.

But of course, all good things have to end, so your laughs subsided, and the gravity of the situation hit you once again.

You stopped after a while, wiped your cheeks yet again and met Fred's eyes, "I love you, Fred," you said, knowing it would be the last time you would say those words.

"I'll always love you too, of course. Don't forget it."

You nodded and whispered a goodbye, remembering that you weren't able to give him a proper one at the Battle. He smiled and turned away, floating down the dark corridor until he vanished into nothingness.

You didn't go back to the celebration, instead opting to roam the old hallways until you grew tired. You apparated back to the flat, into your bedroom, which you and Fred once shared, and thought of sitting by the fire with Fred at school, dancing in the kitchen, and the way he'd look at you like you were the only person in the world. After a few laughs and many tears shed, your heart felt lighter than it had since the day you all lost Fred.

After it all, you were okay.

#fred weasley #fred weasley fic #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter fic #fred and george #weasley #hp #fred weasley imagine

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glorified-red · 3 years

Note

What is the boys go to method of persuasion (read: manipulation) and how would someone persuade them in turn?

This request took wayyyy too many of my brain cells, thanks fish, you’ve killed me

Batboys Method of Persuasion

word count: 1390~

warnings: none

I’ve been wanting to write angst for a few days now and I am so close to diving into Nightmare and never coming back until the whole series is written.

Dick Grayson

Dick uses social influence consciously and subconsciously all the time

Social influence is how we are all wired to believe that if the people we admire are doing something, then that behavior is normal and we should act that way as well

He uses this to his advantage whenever he leads the titans or any of his siblings

A role model of sorts

Dick acts like the perfect vigilante and people subconsciously follow

It started with Jason when he was first learning about Robin, then with Tim, and eventually with Damian

Going out to patrol with Jason and being very careful about what he’s doing in front of him in the off chance that he picks up the habits Dick has

Knowing Tim watches him so closely so Dick might as well take advantage of it to keep his brother safe with protective patrol actions

Seeing Damians adoration for Dick and genuinely trusting what his older brother says, so why not slowly show Damian how to assimilate into the family through his actions

Theres plenty of different ways this affects Dick however

The constant pressure of needing to be perfect and make the right choices

The feeling of everyone and no-one watching him at all times

And even people pleasing tendencies, because what else is left of his self-importance without admiration?

Which is exactly why the easiest way to persuade Dick into doing something, is making sure he likes and trusts you

He couldn't care less about what strangers think of him, but those close to him? Those inside his circle of influence? Dick wants them to love him

Thats exactly why he tries to keep the family together; exactly why he takes every argument with his siblings to heart

The Liking Principle: we are more likely to comply with requests made by people we like

Ask Dick to do something and he will cross a valley for you not only because he loves you, but because he feels like he has to go through with it to make sure you still love him.

Jason Todd

Jason loves to use reciprocity

He exploits it every chance he can when he’s the Red Hood, how else would he have gotten so powerful?

Reciprocity is how we feel obligated to give back to others what we receive from them, especially if there was no cost to begin with

Jason spared plenty of criminals as Hood to use them for deals or favors later, always bringing up the fact that he could've killed them and could kill them now

He’s not afraid to say to those criminals, “Remember when I did this for you? Yea, I want compensation now.”

He doesn't use it much to his family aside from the typical sibling drama of Jason driving to get Tim food and then bringing it up again to get a few pop tarts during patrol

The more the time passes though, the less he can use reciprocity since it'll lose its draw

So he tends to use it within a few days or weeks

Jason keeps tabs, especially when it comes to crime lords or mob bosses

With his family he kinda just remembers? He’ll see a cookie and automatically remember that Dick owes him a pint of ice cream

But reciprocity works both ways

Jason knows this, so if anyone is smart and cunning enough to see through his manipulation and do it back? He’ll comply

The best way to do this is through consistency and commitment

Make Jason commit to his morals or word by bringing up statements he’s made in the past

His word means a lot to him so twisting it or holding him to it will definitely make him cave

Especially if his word was public and other people were there as witness

But be sure to reward him and reciprocate so that he keeps doing it ;)

Tim Drake

Tim’s method of persuasion is so meticulous

Anchoring: the tendency to rely heavily on the information presented first when making a decision

He mostly uses this at work because it works better with numbers

Having a point value presented for the company so he can appease the snarky board of directors

Twisting and manipulating how the stock market values look by prefacing inflation or previous values from months past

Or maybe shifting employee percentages around to make it seem more successful than it really is, not by a lot but enough that Tim can get them off his back

It’s not lying, he’s just presenting the information a different way that makes it seem more pleasant for his side

Since Tim is well aware that information can be tweaked or presented in a bias manner, persuading him can be a bit tricky considering he’d much rather do his own research

The Ellsberg Paradox, a wonderful experiment that showed people tend to lean towards things they know about rather than take a chance on unknown factors

Like the true introvert he is, Tim needs to know every detail before he makes a decision on something instead of going in blind and regretting it

Want to persuade him into going to a party? He needs to know exactly who's going, what to wear, what’s being served, what’s the earliest time he can leave—the list goes on

Trying to persuade him into doing something risky? Give him the details and he’d have no choice but to sigh and go through with it

Damian Wayne

Damian and the hot-hand fallacy

When someone experiences a success, they’re more likely to continue that streak

He uses this to his advantage when it comes to Robin

Showing his father that he is self-sufficient because Damian busted this ring by himself and took down this villain too

Setting down a steady foundation of success to persuade more privilege and independence with the cape on

It’s a way to prove he belongs as well as keep the line of success for Robin going, purifying the colors so to speak

Dami also uses it on his siblings, especially when Dick took Batman’s role

Taking a weak, low point and showcasing the success that was brought to the mantle through him rather than previous Robins

It’s his confidence, his drive, the passion to maintain success lest he break that streak and tarnish his name

He's also used it to present new tactics or weaponry to the family, stating the success rate or how it has been used in the family before

However, with the inflated importance of Robin’s role, it doesn't take much to persuade Damian back into line

That’s where his weakness of persuasion comes in, The Authority Bias

Authority figures are perceived to be correct and have a stronger influence on others because of this

Damian not only grew up being forced to respect Ra’s and Thalia, but its so deep rooted in him that it is very rare for him to speak out against someone of higher authority than him

Hence why he respects Dick so much as Batman, or even Bruce because he is Damians biological father

So the easiest way to persuade Damian into doing something is to assert authority or dominance over him

There has to be merit behind it however, or he will call your bluff and not take you seriously

Bonus

All of the batboys share one method of persuasion that can also work on them: Mimicry

Its natural for us to respond more positively to people who act, look, or sound similar to us

This comes in handy with survivors on patrol, each of the boys mimicking body language or softening their voices to appear less threatening

In Jason’s case, he likes to appear more human by taking off his helmet so his voice doesn't sound as intimidating, it sounds similar and soft

For Tim, he sometimes takes off his cape to seem less like a super hero and more like an ordinary guy, especially for younger kids

In general though, it’s an unspoken bond between them all that they can tell exactly who each brother likes just by watching mimicking body language or adaptation of speech—very easy to tease each other about it

And of course, mimicry works on each of them as well

Makes them all—in their own way—feel less outcasted

Taglist ♡

@anothertimdrakestan

@bungunz

@red-hood-redemption

@missredrobin

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garthofshayeris · 3 years

Note

I've seen you've talk about how rebirth Garth is not real Garth and I believe you obviously mean personally I am still annoyed over Roy's clone from n52 that everyone keeps acting like is Roy is still a thing, but how is he different?

I’m so glad you asked! It sounds obvious, but typically people like a character for their personality or their story arcs or their character development. Like, why else would you like a character, right? So when there are huge changes to the things that make you like the character, uh…there’s not much left.

So, obviously with reboots some things are going to be changed. Maybe someone’s appearance is altered. some of their backstory is switched up, some personality traits get dropped or added. What sucks about Rebirth Garth is they changed everything about his character, none of it for the better. And for a character who, until now, has had a major part to play in Aquaman and other dc comics for about half a century, it’s honestly pretty insulting. So many creators poured their hearts into shaping him into a character before the reboot. There was so much love put into his stories, that the comparison to rebirth is so, so noticeable. Like…if Dick Grayson was rebooted with a completely different backstory and personality and was only vaguely related to the Batfamily, I think fans would be rightfully upset. I feel the same about Garth.

His personality, or whatever attempt they made at one, is bland and boring. He’s a brute who likes fighting and….that’s it. Compared to preboot Garth who is consistently sweet and sensitive and emotional and good. He’s just a good guy who thinks of fighting as a last resort, because he would rather use his words than his fists. It was such a lovely, refreshing take on a male character (and one who is in big name comics like Aquaman and Titans and JLA) that to lose one of his key elements is terrible sad and disappointing.

Garth’s story is, ultimately, completely tied to Arthur’s. They bring out the best and worst in each other. Garth is Arthur’s foil, from the start he is there to complement Arthur as a hero and they’re part of each other’s arcs. And his backstory heavily influences how Garth acts and what he does. His story is one of grief and loss and identity and overcoming stigma, prejudice, and taking control of your destiny. His story is about healing. Or it was.

Because Rebirth Garth doesn’t have any of that. He is, essentially, a completely different character who happens to be named Garth. Sure, he mentioned offhandedly that when he was in Magic College he had a girlfriend who Died Tragically and then they never mentioned that again. It’s a cheap imitation of his Tula storyline, told in like 2 panels, because Tula is also a completely different character now. They’ve spoken in canon once. Two characters who have been so closely joined together for 50 years barely know each other now. This is the same for every other character who still exists in Aquaman canon (they’ve written out a ton). He’s never even spoken to his other love interest in preboot, Dolphin, at all.

Let’s get back to Magic College though. Garth’s powers (or the few he retained from his original power set, though honestly he just like glows now? They’ve never really explained what he can do) are there because he went to underwater Hogwarts and I guess you can just do that and become magic. In comparison, preboot Garth has magic because he’s an abandoned prince from a long line of powerful sorcerer-kings. But power corrupts and his father is murdered and his mother flees, and although she abandons Garth as birth he is so haunted by their deaths that they plague his nightmares. His powers are earned through an incredibly moving journey that includes (among other things) closure from grief and the literal act of taking ones destiny into their own hands. Garth earns his powers because he is pure of heart, because he is brave, and because he loves so, so much and because others loved him. And when he uses those powers in other comics, you remember the meaning behind them. So Rebirth Garth being magic “just because” is so reductive, so boring, so uninspired. I’d rather him be an average atlantean.

But Garth has absolutely no history with the Aquafamily. Giving us an emotional story with him now would be meaningless because he has no part in the comics or the Aquafam. Sure, they mentioned once that Arthur “raised” Garth but…there’s no evidence of that. They don’t speak to each other in Rebirth. There’s actually no way Arthur could have done that in the canon timeline, but it doesn’t matter because they make no attempt to show he’s even part of the family. Garth has been to exactly zero life events for Arthur. He’s never met Arthur’s daughter. He’s never shown just hanging with the others, and they hang out with assholes who tried to kill them before. He is never there. But we are told, once, that he and Arthur like each other. This character means nothing. You can write him out of the few issues he appears in and nothing changes. He’s completely worthless as a character.

So his personality is gone, his backstory is gone, his character themes and growth are gone…surely he still looks the same?

Wrong. He’a ugly. I’m sorry, he is. Everyone is always posting pictures of him saying he’s so pretty (and comparing him to his look on TT:YO as if those aren’t completely different continuities?) but he looks like every other black haired character in DC right now. He looks like Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson and Time Drake and every other fucking guy it’s boring and it’s stupid. He has ugly straight hair (a far cry from Garth’s usual big, curly locks) in a boring ponytail because apparently YJ and TT are the only source the artists ever used to draw him. And his eyes. He has blue eyes. BLUE. When his character has had purple eyes for his entire existence, when his purple eyes have been a major plot point for his entire existence, when his purple eyes were his one defining trait for his entire existence. Insulting.

And he has eye tattoos. Sure, you say, because we all know Garth got his eye scars while training with Atlan (also now a completely different character) when claiming his birthright (written out of canon) to gain his powers (written out of canon) so yeah, maybe they’re just tattoos now. Except some dumbass at DC couldn’t be bothered to put them on the right side of his face. Yet another defining character trait completely fucked up because nobody at DC cared about making this character. He exists to tick off a box, to say “hey, look, we brought back a character you guys wanted. Buy our comics.”

So, when I say Rebirth Garth isn’t the “real” Garth, this is what I mean. The characters are different in every way that makes characters matter. He’s a character who shares a name and nothing else. And I hate him.

#garth of shayeris #sorry I have fucking clue how to post readmores anymore #so I’m sorry this is so long I have opinions and y’all are gonna see them

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virghogh · 3 years

Text

Guessing NCT's rising signs: Huang Renjun as a Cancer rising

Welcome to my first post where I write all about why I think this idol is X rising sign! I don't know how many of these I'll do because it heavily depends on how confident I feel in my guess of their rising lol for Renjun's rising sign, it's something I've been sitting on for a loooong time just to see if anything else comes into my head. At the end of the day we really have no way to know for sure, even if the idols gives us their birth time it still has to be taken with a grain of salt! But it’s still fun theorize and to test your skills while learning at the same time. So for now I feel pretty confident sharing my thoughts on Renjun as a cancer rising.

Let’s ✨explore✨ why:

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧long post! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✦ Before I even decided to look up his chart layout, there were 2 characteristics of Renjun that initially led me to think he’s a Cancer rising. His eyes and his physique. His eyes aren’t necessarily as big as idols we’ve seen with moon in 1st, but they’re still very notable features of his physical appearance that he’s very well known for. They’re bigger, soft and dreamy, and sometimes look like he quite literally holds stars in his eyes. The biggest physical feature though is his, well, petite frame. Next to his eyes, renjun is also really well know for his smaller build. It’s even a well known inside joke amongst NCT, they all him “big shoulders renjun” (lol) because “for a guy” his shoulders a on the smaller side. Both of these physical attributes can also be identifying characteristics of cancer risings.

✦ So, in general I think he is a Cancer rising. But if we want to be more specific; I do think he is a 3rd decan Cancer rising which is the Pisces/Neptune ruled decan. I initially chose this because his house and planet placements just make so much more sense to me when the rising is in the 3rd decan (I'll get into that below), but after reading about the 3rd decan I also think it fits his personality really well! With the Neptune and Pisces influence, he's more on the open side of Cancer rising but more notably, 3rd decans are a lot more inclined to art/creativity and sometimes, music specifically. These people also have a very dreamy attraction about them. He also has his Venus trine ASC which can further add to this kind of creative vibe he gives off, but is also drawn to! It emphasizes the importance of aesthetics, art and creativity in his life. If you've never been on Renjun stan twt then you might not know that a lot of his fans see him as this incredibly dreamy and ethereal boy (as they should) and I can see why!

*:･ﾟ✧house and planet placements *:･ﾟ✧

Scorpio moon, Sagittarius Pluto in 5th:

✦ yea... just yes. Okay but actually, if you read my NCT Dream Hexaco x Birth Chart analyses, I talked a lot about his chart already because I really like it. As someone with a Scorpio moon, I can't help but be really interested in how his plays out. And I have to say, I am quite attached to this theory because I think his scorpio moon in 5th just. makes. sense. I'm not going to go much into the descriptions of the placements, I'm mostly going to stick to the house influence. We know that Scorpio moons have really intense emotions, they internalize everything and are just highly sensitive people to their environments. Renjun has been incredibly open about his mental and emotional struggles ever since being a kid. I've honestly never heard an idol talk about their struggle like he has. He even opened up recently about how a few years ago he had an art therapist that really helped him and lowkey changed his life. I feel like a lot of this can be reflected in his 5th house. The house of creativity, expression, creation. His 5th cusp is also in Scorpio. 5th house in water tend to be really drawn to arts and music. Having a Scorpio moon, a moon sign that can be quite guarded, in a fire house can also explain his readiness/openness to share his emotions and art. Also let's not forget his chart ruler is his Scorpio moon in 5th! What I've wrote above are big themes in his life, which we've seen.

✦ As for the Pluto in 5th. Because his 5th house is in Scorpio this would mean the 5th ruler is in 5th. I know it might not make sense at first because it's pluto and pluto is misunderstood. But it makes perfect sense to me. Pluto in 5th is a deeply passionate and creative placement. It bring so much energy to this house, and can even create a borderline obsession with themes of this house. With creating and expressing. But I could also see having this and his scorpio moon in this house bringing so much energy, it just kind of adds to the confusion and intensity of a scorpio moons emotions and processing abilities, like, emotionally overwhelming. Scorpio moons always need an outlet and they usually figure that out the hard way at some point in life. The outlet can vary based off the chart, his is without a doubt connected to his art; whatever that may be to him.

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Aquarius Uranus in 8th:

✦ This part is brief because it's more of like, additional details to what's already in his chart. Something that is really well known about Renjun too is how much he is into space and aliens and stuff like that. He, once again, has been very open about it lol on variety shows I've seen him light up every time its briefly mentioned and he'll comment on how much he finds that stuff interesting. The 8th house is weird, it can manifest in a lot of different ways. The biggest point here for me is that the house is in Aquarius with Uranus here. I know someone with this placement too and, while they're open minded to astrology and tarot etc. it's a bit more focused on logic. I can't say for sure because I don't know him, but he kind of strikes me as the kind of person that would fight to death over aliens existing, but draws the line at astrology lol. I actually do think he would be open to astrology and tarot, but he'd need the right introduction to it. Anyways, yea this placement to me explains a lot of his interest in space and things we don't understand. He's expressed his curiosity in it. I think a lot of this is coming from his Scorpio moon and Pisces mercury/venus which is why I think it's just additional support.

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Pisces Mercury/Venus in 9th:

✦ THIS HOUSE right here... so much to say. Firstly, Pisces in 9th is probably one of the main culprits for his creativity, deep thinking and curiosity in the world. And more importantly: his imagination. I've mentioned this a lot when I talk about renjun but, he's very well known for his creativity, but I want to make it clear that there is a distinction between creation and imagination. His imagination is truly... on another level. Well, planet actually since it's pisces! Again, amongst fans it's really well known his imagination is just so unqiue. This is less about the 9th house and more about the fact that he has 2 pisces placements but it still affects it lol. He's very open about his imagination and speaks about it so naturally. He shared his drawing of a bird, hybrid, thing? and how it's an animal that steals your dreams in your sleep. Anyways, Pisces in 9th aren't necessarily the travelers we'd see with an air or fire sign here, but they like to travel mentally. He's also talked about how he's just in general a very curious person and you can tell his thoughts probably travel far and wide in his down time.

✦ What's really interesting to me about this house is his mercury is here and Mercury in 9th is a very specific kind of placement. It almost always guarantees an interest and talent in learning languages. I don't know if languages are necessarily a passion for him but he definitely is interested and cares about learning language and other cultures. He also did pick up on Korean and English with ease. Which also reminds me that, he actually was exposed to Korean at a young age because I'm pretty sure he went to a bilingual school (chinese and korean). This is also a big deal to me because planets in 9th, especially sun/mercury often indicate very early exposure to languages or other cultures... so yea that checks out. This can also be proved by looking at his IC in Virgo, which puts the ruler in 9th. His mercury is also sextile Jupiter. I also wanna comment that he has his Mercury in the 5th degree, I'm not great at degree theory yet but that feels significant to me. Of course we cannot forget his absolutely angelic voice. Renjun is also very well known for his stunning vocals. Not only are Pisces placements musically inclined but Pisces mercury are known for their sweet voices.

✦ As for the venus is 9th, I feel like I have more to say on his venus being in Pisces because that's where so much of his artistic creativity and imagination come from. But venus here adds to a lot of what I've written above, adding to his curiosity of the world. What I find most interesting about venus in 9th though, is it brings another inclination to art! He might really like art from different places in the world, or just exploring all types of art being very open minded to its different forms etc. Venus here also brings ease to language learning, and these people will naturally have other cultures and people from them as a big part of their life. I feel like, in general it's not surprising at all to me that as a foreign member (being from China), that he would have 9th house influence! It can often manifest as like.., travel, other languages, cultures and parts of the world etc. are just very naturally a part of their life. Some people never really contemplate life overseas or in another country. But for 9th housers, it's never not been an option. His 9th house influence can also make him a great teacher, mentor and just overall supportive person. We've seen some of this in the content he's made with NCT. Like trying to teach his members chinese with Chenle, except he was taking it way more seriously lol but was so supportive. He's also tried to get Jeno and Jisung involved in his art making, but keeping the process very open and fun.

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Aries sun, Taurus mars in 10th:

✦ This is the last part I'm going to cover because it is really just the icing on the cake to finish this up. The 10th house is considered pretty important when looking at celebrities/idols because it's very likely a lot of what we see from them is their 10th house influence. In the chart model I'm using for Renjun, it puts his MC in the very last degrees of Pisces, so there's a chance it's in Aries but either way with his sun and mars here they are still playing a big role. So for that reason, I'm opting for Pisces MC. I also think Pisces MC fits though because first it puts the ruler in his 7th house. Meaning he could really benefit and work well in something that involves a group! Because it's Pisces in Neptune, it also adds to his very ethereal vibe and how people just seem to love him wherever he goes. He's very magnetic and can come off as artistic and sensitive. He's known for being dreamy, unreal, artistic, sensitive.

✦ Again, we know he has an aries sun and taurus mars so I'm not going to explain them here, just how they affect the house, but having his these here makes so much sense to me too. Having planets in 10th also influences what kind of "vibe" people get from you, and what you're "known" for. Mars and Sun bring similar energy of being well known for for energy, drive, and even stage presence. Not being afraid to be on stage, being good with attention and spotlight. He's known for his kind of playful and childish behavior at times. He is charismatic, bold, brave, happy and upbeat. With the sun, he is again known for his creativity and creations and also self-expression.

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Thank you to anyone who read all this. I don't really expect many people to because I'm mostly writing this for my own curiosity and to finally just put this theory out there! Anyways, stan Renjun best boy <33

Thoughts and feedback are always welcome <3

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#tldr I love renjun #the way this is a whole essay and took hours to write #but there’s literally nothing else I’d rather spend my time doing #it’s my time I decide how to waste it lmao #NCT #kpop astrology #NCT astrology #NCT rising #astrology #zodiac signs #kpop #NCT dream #huang renjun #renjun #NCT 127

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haleigh-sloth · 3 years

Note

So I know FMA and Black Butler are manga women have written... what other ones are there? In your recent post I saw you have another favourite manga made by women excluding FMA, what is it?

I personally enjoy reading female authors depending on the story. Of course I can’t speak for them all, but I notice they don’t over-sexualize characters, even the men in their stories. Not saying it’s all male authors who do this, but they seem to over-sexualize characters more in their stories then women? What always gets me is when men say they don’t know how to write women but yet some women do it so easily... I feel men overthink it. We are opposite genders, not an alien species 👽 Like, just write a character and just label it a women?

Gonna answer all of these together.

First anon-yeah, idk dude like just create a human being and make them a woman. I’m not a writer tbh so I can��t say much more than that—but that seems pretty simple enough. I’m gandering that he just has no interest in incorporating female characters into his story unless it’s to draw them super sexualized in a very detailed way—because he sure as hell puts a lot of detail into it when he does this 🙄🙄🙄 I haven’t really made much commentary on this issue of his because it’s just...A Thing™️ that happens in manga and it is definitely NOT okay, and if we all really wanted go into it-our conversation could last for days about women in general being over sexualized in manga, and also just not being written into the story properly or utilized as an actual character—BNHA is absolutely not the only manga with this issue. I’m not excusing Horikoshi by any means but I’m just almost desensitized to it at this point. Isn’t that sad? Anyway.

So FMA is written by Hiromu Arakawa. Surprise surprise—FMA is one of the greatest stories of all time—in art, story telling, characters, and most importantly (to me) the ending is fuckin STELLAR. I say it a lot—top tier ending. I really hope we get one like that for BNHA.

In that particular post I mentioned my two fav manga of all time but I’ll list a couple more because they’re also written by women—but they’re Shojo so they may not be up you guys’ alley.

Fullmetal Alchemist is my top favorite manga of all time. I read that story in middle school—I didn’t leave my couch for three days and I was up all hours of the night because I couldn’t put my laptop down. And the anime FMAB is amazing also. At least once a year I get in a mood where I need familiarity and I just rewatch FMAB from beginning to end and I fall into the rabbit hole again for several months lol. It just has a very special place in my heart and it will never be replaced. This last panel reduced my 12 year old little to tears.

My second favorite of all time may end up getting replaced by BNHA depending on how it ends—but as of right now it’s still D. Gray-Man. D. Gray-Man is written by Katsura Hoshino (who I recently found out has the same birthday as me 🤭)

D. Gray-Man is still ongoing and it’s coming out on a quarterly basis due to the mangaka’s carpal tunnel. I started this one in high school it was my hyperfixation pretty much all throughout—but due to her health the chapters started slowing down and then eventually went on a very long hiatus. But now they’re coming out regularly—just sparingly. But D. Gray-Man is a very VERY good story—like breathtakingly so. It’s been ongoing since 2004. Almost 20 years and I’m still following it—and I’m gonna see it through til the end even though I’ll probably be like 30 lol. Possibly older. I recommend it but just know the chapters are currently coming out slowly. But Hoshino’s are is just—

Her artistic talent is unreal. Her coloring style HEAVILY influenced mine. The coloring style is very present in my current drawings. And Arakawa’s drawing style influenced mine as well.

I have a very very deep love for both of these stories. You have no idea.

Ahhh two more manga that were written by women but also are shojo so it’s not quite the same:

Fruits Basket and Ouran High School Host Club

Fruits Basket is good—I’d recommend it highly. They also are about to finish the anime remake that I’ve been wanting for over a decade. Written by Natsuki Takaya

OHSHC is definitely not for everybody. It’s very slice of life kind of? It’s a love story. The most interesting part about it are the two main characters—the love interests. Everything else about it is just fun light hearted stuff—no high stakes or anything. There is a climactic moment but it’s not life or death or anything lol. I recommend this if you’re just bored and need a fun read. I re-read it like once a year also because sometimes I just want a good love story—and this one is it. So is Fruits Basket. OHSHC is written by Bisco Hatori.

Also—thank you for reminding me that I need to get into black butler. I watched it but I always prefer the manga so I need to get into that one. Also another story by Hiromu Arakawa is Silver Spoon. I watched the anime and it was good so I’m gonna read it to get the full story. It’s not high stakes either so it’s more of a breather story but it was still enough for me to binge watch the anime. So yeah—those are my two favs of all time—written by ladies. Thanks for letting me ramble about my favorite things guys!

#anonymous #d gray man #DGM #katsura hoshino #fruits basket #furuba #ouran high school host club #manga #recommendation #personal #fma #hiromu arakawa #full metal alchemist

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night-unfurls-its-splendour · 3 years

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The Critique of Manners Part VI

~Or~

An Attempt at an Objective Review of Emma (2009)... VOLUME TWO

Haha, bitches you didn't think I could wait a whole week did you? Nah, not me. and guys, I added to it--all total, it's 9,023 words now. this half of the review is 5,214. HOW DO I HAVE SO MANY WORDS FOR THIS THING? I'm not gonna split it into a third part, because I don't need to for picture limit purposes, but buckle in.

If you didn't catch it, read part 1 here

Here it is, the stunning conclusion to my Emma Adaptation Review series (but this isn't really the end because I plan on doing some rankings later). In this half of my review of BBC'S Emma (2009) we'll discuss Costumes and all the very specific things that I love about this version, and some things I don't like, and some things I'm here to defend.

Let's dive in!

Costumes

Generally I liked these costumes pretty well. They were designed and facilitated by Rosalind Ebbutt, also known for her work on PBS’s Victoria and Vanity Fair (1998). And her work is, as her filmography would suggest, by turns, great and so-so.

These costumes are definitely in line with the adaptation’s general aesthetic: warm pinks and golds, with mints emeralds and blues to cool it off a little, are the order of the day. I really appreciate that every character has a definite color palette. The tradeoff is that this adaptation is the WORST EVER offender for the Jane Fairfax Blue™ trope.

Daywear

Emma’s daywear is full of warm and muted colors. Salmon and magenta are commonly seen. I love that most of Emma’s daywear consists of sleeveless or short-sleeved gowns with wide-sleeved linen blouses underneath. It’s not a commonly seen aesthetic so it feels light and fresh. My favorite of Emma’s daywear dresses is the pale yellow with purple floral print.

There’s one other in particular that I love.

Emma’s blue, sleeveless dress. I love this because of HOW OBVIOUSLY it’s a reference to this portrait of Charlotte, Princess of Wales. I mean...

I’M NOT IMAGINING THIS, RIGHT? WHY DOES NO ONE TALK ABOUT THIS? This is a REAL dress. They still have this exact gown of Princess Charlotte’s. It’s on display. It’s faded, but it’s the same dress.

Harriet has a fresh and innocent green, white and purple color scheme with healthy doses of peach and pink showing. I particularly like her white and purple floral print dress.

Mrs. Weston’s color palette varies, but leans heavily on tans and purples, which is very flattering, I must say, to Johdi May’s coloring and is really refreshing for Mrs. Weston who seems to get stuck in pinks and yellows a lot. No idea what’s going on with the laced-front dress though? This doesn’t quite read as authentic to me, but I do like that her first dress seems to be an apron-front.

I know I already said that this is the worst Jane Fairfax Blue™ offender, but guys I can’t stress it enough. WE ARE 5/5 ON DAYWEAR HERE. LOOK AT THAT. (Also of note, Jane 5 is one of Gwyneth Paltrow’s dresses from the '96 Emma.)

Mrs. Elton seems, at all times, to be wearing some form of pink, but I think I’m right in saying that the white day dress with the rose patterned bodice under the yellow and pink spencer is one of Jane’s dresses from P&P ’80. Can anyone confirm that? They did sneak in some Mrs. Elton Orange™ though, for Box Hill, and it’s worth noting that Mrs. Elton is the only lady who’s appropriately dressed on that occasion.

Isabella gets some understated day gowns that are very nice and also VERY “Jane Austen” in the sense that I feel like Jane Austen herself might have worn them.

Miss Bates, unfortunately is slapped with brown at just about every turn, but at least her “Nice” day outfit has some subtle leaf patterns, which is refreshing. Also Mrs. Goddard has a slappin’ cap. Love that.

Also, Harriet’s Grecian costume for the painting (upper right hand corner). What can I say, but that I love it. I love that it hints at the neoclassical influences on Regency fashion too. This is my favorite interpretation of the painting too.

Evening Wear

You know what I love about this version? It’s the first version of Emma where her gown for the Crown in Ball isn’t WHITE. I know, I know white was fashionable, but it’s just… it’s nice for not EVERY gown in a ball scene to be plain white friggin muslin and also, it’s not one she’s ever worn before, which is great.

Harriet does have only white evening gowns but that’s okay. My only complaint is that, specifically on her Crown Inn dress and in a lot of her costumes in general, the waistline seems just a little low. Hmm. I really like the pale blue pattern on her first evening dress though.

Mrs. Weston though. Woo. Look at those. She has a dark chartreuse gown with black lace trim that any other version would have put on Mrs. Elton, so you know from the dark tones that she’s a bitch. Not so with Emma '09, and that’s good. And her teal dinner number is a favorite of mine. I never paid much attention to her green and gold ball gown but it has some really beautiful, subtle leaf or maybe peacock feather patterns on it and I love that. My only problem is that there seem to be some fit issues. She’s got muffin top way too often. Her orange evening dress is a bit of a dud though, firstly, because it has long sleeves (which is an evening gown no-no) and the fabric slaps a bit too much of sari fabric for my tastes.

Jane, not only is put in blue with both of her evening gowns (although one is so pale it borders on white), ONE of them is another Emma ’96 repeat and not only that, it’s one of Jane Fairfax’s dresses in that film! Perhaps that’s enough to make it an homage, and I have to say, I think Laura Pyper wore it better.

Miss Bates only has one evening wear ensemble, but at least it’s cream and not brown.

Mrs. Elton’s gowns are surprisingly understated, and yet still seem to be annoyingly fussy and, what’s better? They’re not sickly green. One of them is actually a very pleasant mint.

Outerwear

Outerwear is roundly pretty great here. Emma’s primary choice of color for spencers is emerald/evergreen and one of them is Elizabeth’s Bennet’s from the 1995 P&P (though to be honest, I think Jennifer Ehle filled it out better.) I do love Mrs. Elton’s pink and yellow number with the slashed sleeves. Jane Fairfax’s only spencer is, you guessed it, blue, but her friend Miss Campbell has a rather fun mauve one.

There’s no shortage of pelisses and redingotes either. Harriet can be seen in one borrowed from Elinor Dashwood in the '08 S&S, Mrs. Weston has a rather fabulous purple one which she wears with the most delicious looking hat I’ve ever seen.

Emma has two. The first one is a great magenta number with military braiding (and I think she wears with it one of the brown slouch hats that Kate Beckinsale wore in the same role) and while the other pelisse is brown, they had the sense not to make her wear a hat with it that was also brown. Instead, they gave her a contrasting color. Good on ya, Rosalind!

Speaking of hats, I don't often single them out for commentary, but I want to here because… the hat authenticity is… kinda spotty. Let me show you.

Okay first of all, Emma may be a teenager in this pic on the upper left, but she is not dressed formally enough for her sister’s wedding (which is what’s going on in this scene) but at least her hat is pretty good. You can see the ribbons are on the inside of the hat here, which is as it should be… but she never wears this hat again. At any point in the series. Instead, we next see her in the one on the upper right and ye gads this is atrocious. WHY IS HER HAT NOT PINNED ON? IT’S SLIDING DOWN THE BACK OF HER HEAD. SOMONE FIX IT. PLEASE. But wait, there’s more. This kills me because these bottom two are so similar to the one she wore earlier (the correct one) but crappier looking. Jeez.

This is not a hat. It’s a peanut. You know who doesn’t have this problem? Harriet. She only has one sun hat but at least it’s correct.

I also wanna touch briefly on this ^ costume continuity issue.

WTF is this? She’s in the hall, her ribbon is contoured to the line of her dress; she goes into the drawing room and… it isn’t anymore? Wha happun?

I took more menswear screencaps for this version than any other version. And that’s because the men just have more outfits that are, y’know, different from each other.

Mr. Knightley is as understated as ever, but I wanna highlight the first pic there and why I love it. This is Knightley’s first appearance in the series and it’s the perfect establishing shot that shows the viewer everything they need to know about Emma and Knightley’s relationship and how it has always been. He sort of materializes, out of focus in the background, but Emma immediately knows he’s there. And to accentuate how much Knightley is part of her home and scenery, his clothes (similar shades of pale tan, white and minty green to the wall behind him) almost camouflage him and make him seem at one with the moulding.

He also has a rather lovely blue evening waistcoat that I WISH I could have gotten better shot of (although I do believe it’s also worn by Henry Crawford in the '07 Mansfield Park, so for further reading…)

Mr. Weston finally gets to wear clothes that aren’t all brown! He only has ONE brown outfit. He gets PATTERNED waistcoats, one of them a rather spiffing blue and brown striped number. And he wears TROUSERS! Because he’s a gentleman, and he’s not that old and trousers are worn by fashionable gentlemen in this period!

You know who else gets to wear trousers and at least one fun waistcoat? Mr. Woodhouse. Check out that lovely Sunday Best™ waistcoat. The red striped one. That’s delightful.

John Knightley’s evening wear intrigues me. That’s a double-breasted jacket, and you know I’m not totally sure that’s very authentic for evening-wear of this period, but it is different. Unfortunately he also has a flared top hat and that is definitely not on for this period.

One of my favorite things about this version is that they don’t dress Mr. Elton as a clergyman all the time. Yes, he may be the vicar, but he’s also allowed to dress like a fashionable, handsome young man. So I’m really happy that he gets to flex his fashion muscles here.

And speaking of fashionable young men, FINALLY frank gets to be COLORFUL and his trousers are even tight enough. Both he AND Elton are often seen wearing TWO waistcoats, as I would expect them to, and even though Frank’s a dandy, he knows that flashiness is gauche so his pops of color are bright, but not in your face. His green and red waistcoats are always worn under more muted colors, and I just love it.

The only problems are… what’s with the turned-down waistcoat collars? There’s no precedent for this, in fact I think it’s directly contradictory to the style at the time, and also it makes the cravats look a bit unruly.

A Critique of Manners

A lot has been said about the manners in this adaption. Like, the actual manners, body language and facial expressions, specifically vis-à-vis Romola Garai.

And, oh yeah, there’s a lot to pick at here, but first I’d like to talk about the facial expressions.

I'm mostly gonna be talking out of my ass here, but this is my take, so if anyone can make a better argument against my points, I am listening, because I don't really like talking out of my ass and I like to be informed. That said...

I tend to be lenient on the… exaggerated facial expressions because, something I’ve noticed reading Austen’s works through the last several months is that Austen is very descriptive when it comes to facial expressions and I just find it hard to believe that people in the Regency Era never made exaggerated expressions like this.

I’ve heard a lot about how Garai’s Emma is not dignified or lady-like. But let’s think about the context of Emma Woodhouse – she’s never been in society. She’s only had a governess to teach her, and we know Emma’s always been sort of averse to being told what she can and can’t do. Emma is the highest ranking woman in her social circle (barring Isabella’s occasional presence). Emma doesn’t have to be ladylike. At 21, she’s already her local Lady Catherine. She puts a lot of stock in her position in society but, as Mrs. Elton will be the first to hypocritically point out, she’s very poorly behaved. I'd be very curious to see what would happen if Emma went to London for the season. Probably, she'd be seen, comparatively, as a country bumpkin. Can you imagine how she might get on in a sea of accomplished young ladies? She can barely handle having ONE rival with any kind of grace.

Austen never describes bodily movements of the kind we’re looking at when we watch adaptations, so why not have Emma’s body-language be un-ladylike in the conventional sense of the time? I’m not saying this to excuse the absolutely inexcusable (Frank’s head in her lap, kneeling on the sofa backwards etc.), but while Emma’s mannerisms aren’t exactly ladylike for her time, they’re not overtly masculine either (which was one of my biggest problem with Death Comes to Pemberly for example.)

Yes, there’s an ideal for manners. But we know real people didn’t always follow those ideals. In dancing for example, many dancing guidebooks of the day were full of repeated instructions not to be too loud or rambunctious when dancing. What this tells us is that people were doing just that, and probably quite a bit, too. I think that, while taking societal strictures into account, we shouldn’t totally discount the idea that people in the Regency weren’t really that different from us, and young people especially.

Now I’ve already mentioned some of the inexcusable aspects of interaction in this adaptation and they’re so notorious at this point, I don’t think that I really need to go over them much here. Although I will say: is it ridiculous to have Frank Churchill put his head in Emma’s lap? Yes. Did it make me more viscerally uncomfortable with the situation on Box Hill than any other version? Yes.

I was like, 14 when I watched this the first time. This was an effective way to telegraph to young people like me that Emma is being extremely inappropriate here in a way that no other version really managed to, even when I watched them when I was older and understood the period more. I’m far more acquainted with Regency manners than I was then, but to be honest – if they had been accurate with the manners here, when I was 14 I would not have understood what the big deal was. Is there merit in circumventing historical accuracy in favor of reaching a less-informed but still-interested audience? Yes, I think so. There were three other versions of this, at that point, that did this scene with more or less pristine manners. Not every version has to follow the manners of the time to-the-letter to be good. That’s my feeling on the matter.

There are things that do really bother me though. Like the idea that Harriet Smith doesn’t know how to spoon soup, for instance. As I said in my review for the Miramax version, table manners are pretty basic, there’s no reason Mrs. Goddard wouldn’t have taught Harriet this. It does provide a good moment to show Emma tacitly coaching Harriet and showing the trajectory in which this relationship will go, but personally I don’t think it was necessary—there are plenty of other ways that could be done.

Also: kids at the dinner table? I know this is part of building the familial atmosphere but it really does annoy me, because apart from building the familial atmosphere (which they do very well and frequently in other ways) it really didn’t need to happen, and it doesn’t add anything.

The Heart of Highbury

So, as I’ve hinted at throughout this review, the bread and butter of this adaptation of Emma is emotion. This version goes hard and heavy on showingthe relationships – Emma’s relationships with Mrs. Weston, Mr. Knightley, her father, her sister, her brother-in-law, Miss Bates; Jane’s relationship with Frank; Frank’s relationship with his father; The John Knightleys’ home life – and it illustrates things that can be surmised from just reading the story, but really draws your attention to them in ways that other adaptations just don’t.

It does this from the very beginning with the prologue which explains in detail (not just in quick exposition between characters) how Jane and Frank were separated from their families at young ages. We know now, from psychological study, that being taken away from their primary caretakers during their formative years is one of the most psychologically traumatizing things for a child. This is deeply important context which is explained in detail by the narrator in 2-3 large pages (in my Barnes & Noble anthology) in the book.

In the featurette on the houses, they talk particularly about Hartfield and the Woodhouses being the heart of Highbury and how they particularly wanted it to feel homey because Hartfield is Emma’s house and they wanted the audience to feel why everyone is so drawn to it, and to Emma; to me that is what they did with the whole adaptation in microcosm.

I usually talk a bit about the dancing and I'm going to here as well because this is maybe the most special dance scene in any Austen for me. Of course I'm going to link to Tea with Cassiane as usual because she knows what she's talking about and I don't. But I wanna add some comments. She gives this a pretty low rating in spite of a generally favorable commentary because of two big oopsies, the circle dance formation is one, and the other is I believe, an issue with the style of dance not matching the tune in Emma's dance with Knightley. Throwing out any objective technical analysis though, this is my favorite Ball in any Austen and it all comes down to the cornerstone of this adaptation--emotion.

All of the songs and dances were original compositions and choreography made for this adaptation. So they're not period per se, but the tunes at least are representative of how Regency dance music should sound. These dances are upbeat, and lively and, damn they look like fun. Everyone is excited here and it makes me understand why dancing was such a big thing. Best of all that excitement adds to the emotional charge of the scene. "The Ship's Cook" is the most fast paced dance and I'm glad they made this the dance where Elton snubs Harriet because it really hits for me just what Harriet would be missing out on if Knightley wasn't so fucking aptly named. In all other versions you get the insult, but the dance that's taking place is usually a Baroque walker so it doesn't seem terribly like she's missing out on much. Here, this is like not getting picked for kickball-- not only is it a slight that no one wants you on their team, but you miss out on even playing the game. Harriet looks so lonely, and her feeling of being out of place rolls off of Louise Dylan so forcefully it chokes me up just thinking about it because I've been there, man. I feel this shit. *dabs eyes*. Ahem. So, yes, when Knightley engages her for the dance the excitement the viewer feels is that much more forceful and Harriet's exuberantly starting to jump in when the timing is off and Knightley gently pulling her back, it just hits me in the feels center, guys. (I wanna take a moment to give a shout out to every camp counselor who ever partnered with me for any game at summer camp.) Emma's reaction too, is gold. Her genuine relief at Knightley swooping in is one of those great reminders that Emma is Harriet's friend, and she does care about her.

Finally on the dancing front, I wanna talk about Emma's dance with Knightley and why I prefer it to the one in the 2020 version. I already talked about this a bit in the 2020 review, so I'm gonna try and keep it brief. That shouldn't be too hard, because I'm probably mostly going to repeat a lot of what I've already said about Emma and Knightley in this version as a whole.

The big thing everyone loves about the Crown Inn dance in the 2020 is the yearning, the sexual tension, the quivering touches etc. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE all of those things but... not all the time. Not in everything, and definitely not in Emma. Because Emma, to me, isn't about repressed sexuality or heated tension or seething passion. Emma and Knightley are the opposite of that, to me, really. One of my mutuals put it best, I think: "Emma and Knightley are more suited to stolen glances than hot touches."

In Part 1 I talked about how Knightley is Emma's comfort object. When Emma is out of sorts, Knightley re-centers her. It helps set up, and puts emphasis on, the crisis of the story in the last act--Emma not knowing what she has until [she thinks] she's lost it. Emma and Knightley are Friends to Lovers done as it should be. She is already so comfortable with him she doesn't even realize her own feelings. She just feels right with Knightley and that's what this dance is here to show you--a foreshadowing of matrimonial harmony.

The dance itself, of course, is always up to interpretation, because Austen never describes how it goes, just that Knightley asks Emma to dance and Knightley doesn't dance (barring charitable causes). If you prefer the sexual tension take, if that, to you is an improvement on Austen's story and gives you what you've always felt was missing, I'm glad that there is a version now that gives you what you've been looking for, but for me, I think the 09 approach hits closer their dynamic in the book.

Now do I do think the Emphasis on emotion maybe went a little too earnest in some places in this adaptation? Maybe. Just a little.

In my last review (1972) I went on a rather lengthy tirade about the scene where they turn Emma’s appeals to Harriet to exert herself and move on following Mr. Elton’s marriage into Emma guilting Harriet into thinking she’s a bad friend for being heartbroken and then throwing her into the situation most likely to rub salt in that particular wound.

In this version, while I love the emphasis they put on the stress Emma puts on her own guilt for being the reason for Harriet’s situation in the first place, I think it’s maybe a little too… much.

That’s the only way I can put it. I know I’ve just said that I think there should be a bit more expressiveness in period drama, but this doesn’t quite match the way I read it (Emma’s a bit less desperate in Austen’s prose. Very dedicated to helping Harriet feel better, but just a skosh more composed). I think she’s even crying in this scene.

While we’re here let’s go over to Box Hill ONE. MORE. TIME.

First of all, this is where this screenplay shines, in my opinion. This is the big turning point in the story and as such, should be a touchstone for the judgment of any adaptation. This sequence in the 2009 version is a perfect crystallization of everything I love about this version—namely that this is the version that, to me, most feels like someone read the book thoroughly, paid attention to what Austen was describing and then actually tried to convey it on screen. A lot of other versions sort of feel (to me), like the director glanced at the page and said “here’s what I want to convey in my version”. Insofar as making a piece of art goes, that’s good. Directors are artists as much as painters are and movies are their canvass, but it’s seldom that you find a director who honestly wants to hit as close to the author intent as possible and this Box Hill sequence makes me feel like that’s what Jim O’Hanlon was going for. I have the book open next to me as I write this and it’s shocking to me how minutely the atmosphere described in the book is conveyed here. Most of all, the fact that Emma’s insulting Miss Bates is not the only thing faux pas she makes here. Box Hill as a whole is a disaster, and it’s largely because of Frank.

“When they all sat down it was better; to [Emma’s] taste, a great deal better, for Frank Churchill grew talkative and gay, making her his first object. To amuse her, and to be agreeable in her eyes, seemed to be all that he cared for—and Emma, glad to be enlivened, and not sorry to be flattered, was gay and easy too, and gave him all the friendly encouragement, the admission to be gallant, which she had ever given in the first and most animating period of their acquaintance; but which now, in her own estimation, meant nothing, though in the judgment of most people looking on it must have had such an appearance as no English word but flirtation could very well describe. “Mr. Frank Churchill and Miss Woodhouse flirted excessively.” They were laying themselves open to that very phrase—and to having it sent off in a letter to Maple Grove by one lady, to Ireland by another. Not that Emma was gay and thoughtless from any real felicity; it was rather because she felt less happy than she expected. She laughed because she was disappointed…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Most other versions rush through Frank’s “excessive” flirting with Emma (Right in front of Jane) to get to “Three Things Very Dull Indeed” as fast as possible, and yes that’s the crowning horror of Box Hill, but there’s a very intricate setting here, too, and this version has the time to lay back and let it all unfold in the oppressive discomfort of an English summer day.

Even better than all of that though is Knightley confronting Emma after it all goes down. This treatment is neither plaintive, nor aggressive as it was in ‘96 and ‘97 respectively. I’ve already extolled the virtues of Johnny Flynn’s Box Hill rebuke, but for a change I’m not going to zero in on Miller’s performance which is, at least as good as Flynn’s, but on Romola Garai’s, which I find superior to Anya Taylor Joy’s. Specifically, her reaction once she’s alone.

ATJ in the 2020 version immediately breaks down sobbing and it’s hard for me to feel that she’s sobbing for “anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern” or that there’s much self-reflection going on there. To me it rather just feels like she’s crying because she got shouted at. The theatrics of it, to me, feel childish and self-centered.

I don’t feel that with Garai’s performance.

“She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck . . . How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in anyone she valued! And how to suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!

Time did not compose her…” --Emma, Chapter 43

Of course one can make the case that Emma's reaction should be a bit childish because Emma is an immature character, but that's the thing--I can agree with you anywhere else in this story but this is Emma's maturing moment. This is her turning point as a character. It's where we should see her reactions shift from the same childish denial we're used to seeing when Knightley scolds her, because this is different. It's not the usual brushing off of big brother Knightley, this is a young woman reacting to an esteemed friend pointing out how abhorrently inappropriate she's been and her having to admit that to herself.

I didn't really want to drag comparisons to the 2020 film into this, not on this scale at least, but this just jumped out at me the last time I watched the new film and I have to express it somewhere.

What I see in Garai’s performance is desolation and mortification. That shocked tearfulness of knowing you’ve been justly reproached for wrongdoing, but being too frozen in a pretense of composure to actually cry about it until you’re quite sure that no one will see you. And especially when it’s someone you esteem rebuking you, the horror of them leaving before you can admit that they’re right. There’s so much more depth here, I think, and I can’t even quite express what it makes me feel.

The aspect of time not composing her is another thing that they decided to put stress on in this version. Emma looks fucked up in the following scenes. When she goes to see Miss Bates, she clearly either hasn’t slept or has slept very badly. I feel like this is maybe an anticlimactic conclusion to this section but I’m afraid I’m very close to reaching incoherence, so I’m just gonna leave it here.

My absolute favoritest thing about this version though—something that sets it apart from ALL other versions and even adaptations of other Austen stories—is the inclusion of the post-confession conversation.

This is something of a trope in Austen books but it very rarely finds its way into adaptations: confessions of love are out of the way, the hero and heroine settle into an easy an comfortable conversation, glowing with happiness as they explain and laugh over their actions and misinterpretations of each other’s choices. It happens in Pride and Prejudice, in Persuasion, and yes, in Emma. This is the only Austen adaptation, that I've seen, to include this kind of conversation in any kind of detail. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice alludes to the corresponding scene in it its source material, but the lines pulled from it get tossed into the confession scene itself and then it flies through to get to the obligatory wedding—a side effect of rushing through endings, a convention I’m rather tired of.

Emma (2009) takes its time with this, as with all other aspects of this adaptation. For a version that’s so full of energy, its pacing is extremely laid back and comfortable, without dragging. When you hear the gentle musical swell and Emma and Knightley have their kiss (this whole confession sequence is so sweet and wonderful in its own right), you expect that to be it. But no, we cut to them, the picture of contented happiness, sitting together on a bench overlooking Hartfield’s garden, just talking and enjoying being together, with no teasing, no pretense. If Jane Austen stories emphasize anything, it’s the importance of communication in relationships, and I think that’s maybe why she made it a point in almost every story to show her characters communicating their feelings in words, even after all the conflict has been resolved. This is my favorite scene in the whole series (In case it being my header image didn’t make that obvious.)

This is followed rather promptly by a cut to the next day, with Emma bursting in to Donwell in hysterics about how they can’t be married because she won’t leave her father alone.

This is one of those maybe over-the-top choices that a lot of people don’t like, but guys, it was so funny to me when I was fourteen and it still makes me laugh. It might seem outlandish, but to me it’s just the emphasis on personal relationships and emotion coming through again and it always makes me smile.

Final Thoughts

It’s hard for me to give a proper round up of my feelings for this section because I think I’ve poured just about all of my feelings on each aspect into its dedicated sections.

At the end of the day, the only thing that really disappoints me about this version is the number of missed opportunities there are here. One of my favorite parts of reading Austen is when I run across a line in dialogue or narrative that just… slaps. But they never make it into the adaptations. Emma is full of them and I just wish that Sandy Welch could have taken an opportunity to slip a few of them in.

In summary, I think this is a wonderful, heartfelt adaptation aimed at getting to the emotional heart of a story that often gets caught up in the Mean Girl-ness of its main character than the coming of age story that it is. It's one of my favorite period dramas because it's one of the few that really captures the spirit of the source material as it's always felt to me. There's really only two other period dramas that I esteem on the same level as this, and they're North & South (2004) and Jane Eyre (2011) and it's for the same reasons; because they impact me deeply on an emotional level--which is what art is supposed to do--because of how well it captures the essence of the story that I know and love.

So did I succeed in a more objective review of Emma 2009? I' feel like probably not. But I tried my best. It’s so hard to be objective about something that makes you as happy as this adaptation makes me.

Ribbon Rating: Most Agreeable (83 Ribbons)

Tone: 10

Casting: 9

Acting: 9

Scripting: 7

Pacing: 10

Cinematography: 7

Setting: 9

Costumes: 6

Music: 8

Book Accuracy: 8

#emma 2009 #emma woodhouse #mr. knightley #jane austen #jane austen emma #romola garai #jonny lee miller #period dramas #regency

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adorehs · 4 years

Text

undercover

Hello! Welcome to a very chaotic story.. I really cannot accurately describe all that happens. Heavy influences from Quantico which I have been watching and the American Assassin series which I have began reading.

For @majorharry‘s #majorharry20k with the following prompts: “Should–should we kiss?” (6) and “You’re making this so much harder than it has to be.” (30)

Summary: FBI!Harry and Y/N work together to solve a crime and romance ensues. Enemies to lovers if you squint. (6k words)

Warnings: violence, smut (unprotected), mentions of death, use of alcohol, there is a lot happening

The gun felt cool against your skin which juxtaposed your body which was coated in a light layer of sweat. You were hyper aware of its presence under your dress, along with the wig on your head and the colored contacts you wore, making you feel entirely uncomfortable for the simple assignment you were given.

You sat in the backseat of a government SUV, eyeing the dashboard monitor at the front of the car. It’s view showed multiple angles of the casino you and your partner Harry were headed to. You watched as various members were let in under what seemed to be a heavily guarded building.

You glanced to your right to see Harry reading over his new persona, mouthing certain phrases to himself as he folded the alias card into a black handkerchief, tucking it into his suit pocket.

The two of you and your analyst Mitch were briefed on the mission a few hours earlier. There was a man and a woman, siblings, who were believed to have bombed a casino in London earlier that week. Now, you and a team were set to find and detain both siblings, along with disarming the bomb before it is too late.

“Bellagio’s guest list for nights like this is pretty exclusive but they recently had some people added so we should be able to get by just fine but play off me if need be,” Harry spoke with a gruff voice, adjusting his collar to ensure his communication device was hidden properly.

You defensively shifted towards Harry, “I know my alias,” you stopped to wrap your radio harness tighter around the wire of your bra to hide it’s bulk, adjusting the receiver in your ear you continued, “I was supposed to use it last mission but I didn’t need to.”

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Okay, no need to get defensive.”

You look at him one last time before eyeing the camera footage at the font of the car again. You see a skip in the footage and scoot forward in your chair, “How do you rewind this?”

Mitch meets your eyes in the rear view mirror, “You have to call back to the cyber ops, we can’t do it from here.”

You nod, testing to see if your comm was working before asking the same question, prompting the security team on your case to rewind the footage. “There!” you point out, asking them to go back and pause it again, “There’s a cut,” you decide after seeing a frame by frame replay.

“No camera has him after that. It can’t be a blind spot, he just disappeared,” Harry agrees.

“Someone was probably waiting in a blind spot to take him,” Mitch informs, “They're five to ten feet, there is enough room.”

Having the camera back in current time, you watch as a cab pulls through one screen and stops before it reaches the next camera's sight, “So do you think that's them? Picking up whoever that was?” you ask, looking at Harry.

He sighs heavily, “Probably,” he hesitated. He didn’t want to have to follow the cab, “We can call someone to trace the cab though, right? So we still make sure shits good at the casino,” he replied.

Mitch slows to a stop as he approaches a stop sign, “Ask them to get their license number from another camera and find out who drives that cab,” he suggests, “Then whoever follows them can see what's going on.”

You nod, relaying the information to the analyst team assisting you all on the case. Your eyes follow the monitor as you watch the cab leave the building with an excessive roar of their engine. A crinkle forms between your eyebrows, “Why was that so loud? Wouldn’t that draw more attention to themselves?”

Harry sucked his teeth as he racked his brain for a logical answer, “It would,” he agreed, “Maybe it’s to derive our attention.”

You shrug lightly, “That could be it. We definitely need to get more people out here just in case, though,” you agree.

“It could go both ways,” Mitch reminds you, “They could be a step ahead, knowing how we think, and really be escaping and we would be too naive to realize.”

“This is so confusing,” you whine, “Why can’t they just pull a stunt we already know.”

Harry’s lips tug upward into a smirk, “We don’t have to know what they’re planning, we just need enough people to be ready no matter what,” he reminds you.

You open your mouth to reply but a noise in your earpiece stops you. “They’re headed south on Las Vegas Freeway,” someone comments, “Be ready to follow through once they stop.”

You and Harry approach Bellagio, arms linked. It wasn’t the original plan, but Mitch said it would be easier to go in together rather than to be seen leaving the same car fifteen minutes apart in a crowded area.

You both approach the bouncer, Harry giving the buff man his alias, “Oliver Irvine,” he speaks casually. The bouncer's gaze moves to you with an unimpressed gaze, “Maggie Greene, but also my plus one,” Harry speaks again. The man glances at the door and back at you with a grunt. You sigh softly, leaning closer to Harry while also shrugging your arm up to make your breasts look more pronounced, “We know the Russell’s,” you mention the siblings. You watch in amusement as his eyes widen slightly, panic visible on his face.

The bouncer’s face scrunches up in confusion, “We’re visiting from London,” Harry helps him remember your names.

He clears his throat, “Of course, I remember them mentioning Irvine now,” he nods at Harry. You bite your lip softly in attempts to keep yourself from laughing, “Head in,” he sidesteps and you wink at him whispering a soft thank you, making him smile slightly like a schoolboy.

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and you let go of Harry’s arm. You make a beeline for the bar and immediately ask for a pale ale. The bartender eyes you up and down before returning slightly after with your beer. You thank him softly and look around the club, sucking your teeth with distaste at the bitter substance. You hate beer but you need to encompass Maggie Greene and Maggie likes beer.

You spot a man looking at you and you smile at him, giving him permission to come up to you. He approaches you with a smirk, “Hey, I’m Rob.”

You twist the hair from your wig around your finger carefully and you lean forward giving him a face full of cleavage, “Nice to meet you Rob, I’m Maggie.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, his eyes refusing to meet yours.

You look down at your full beer and lift it slightly so he sees before laughing at him, “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait.”

He laughed back and with a stutter replies, “Yeah, I figured,” he paused. Looking at your eyes, you silently hope he can’t tell they’re not your natural color because of the dim lit building. “Sorry, I just don’t know how I haven’t seen you here before, I come here every few nights,” he explains.

You perk up at that, he probably knows someone, you think to yourself. “No, I’m new, I came with my boyfriend.”

He nods with his head down and a chuckle, clearly disappointed, “And who’s that?”

“Oliver,” you say simply, pointing at Harry who is talking to a guy towards the back of the crowd, “How come you’re here so often,” you counter.

“The owner is a friend of a friend,” he smiles, lifting his hand to meet yours. He takes the drink out of your hand and sets it down on the bar before speaking, “They’re coming later today, maybe I’ll introduce you.”

“Oh cool!” you feign enthusiasm. You're beginning to regret speaking to him. The more you talk, the faster he seems to go. “Who are they? Oliver was telling me about some of the regulars he met last time,” you trail off in hopes of getting something.

“My friend? Her name’s Jazzy. Jazzy Russells,” he tells you, “Heard of ‘er?”

You shake your head lightly trying to suppress a smile, “No, but I’d love to meet her,” you send him a lipstick sweet smile. You pick up your beer with a slight tilt towards your body spilling it along the hem of your dress “I’m sorry,” you gasp, “I need to freshen up. Would you mind holding my drink?” you ask with no intent of drinking anymore.

He smiles at you and nods, allowing you to rush to find a secluded area. You find a nook next to the bathroom where an occasional straggler looks near. You put your phone up to your ear so it looks more natural and press the button on your comm to speak directly to your team.

“A found a guy who said he’s meeting Jazmyn later today,” you speak in a hushed voice, “Said he’d introduce me,” you tell them.

“Great,” you hear on the other end, “Can you get Styles in with you?” they ask.

“Probably, yeah.”

“Okay. Styles meet Y/L/N and devise a plan,” they conclude.

You nod slightly in confirmation, texting Harry to meet you near the women's room.

When he arrives in a haste, he has a light lipstick stain on the apple of his cheek and smells strongly of a woman’s perfume- his own scent masked heavily. “Jesus, Harry, did ya smother her?” you ask, licking your thumb and attempting to smudge the lipstick off before deciding it’s no use. You sigh, “Go wipe it off in the bathroom, you look ridiculous.”

His face scrunches up in disgust, “Why’d ya do that?” he asks, using his handkerchief to wife off the lipstick and your spit, making sure to keep his alias card hidden.

“Because I told that creep I was talking to that you were my boyfriend so he wouldn’t try anything,” you whisper harshly as you see a woman approaching the bathroom.

His lips upturned forming a smirk, “I knew you liked me.”

“I don’t like you, you just need an in,” you remind him. “Seems like I’m the only one doing any work of value,” you complain, “By the way, that perfume? Doesn’t suit you.”

Harry groaned, “I ran into a drunk girl on my way here, she threw herself on me and kissed my cheek to get some guy away from her,” he explains.

You shake your head with a bitter laugh, “Whatever. Just know, you’re making this so much harder than it has to be.”

Harry looks at you intensely before breaking out into a grin, “Awww, Y/N, no need to get jealous. I promise I won't let anyone kiss me tonight if that’s what you want,” he teases.

You look at him unimpressed, “No, I don’t care what you do, just don’t blow our cover. What are we going to say when I show up with you to meet Jazmyn and you smell like another woman but I claim you’re my boyfriend?”

“Relax, I’m a professional,” Harry shrugs, leaning against the wall next to him.

You scoff, “Doesn’t seem like it,” you mumble.

Harry rolls his eyes in response, fed up with you, “What’s the plan?” he asks.

“So I was thinking,” you pause when you hear Harry grumble an oh great, “I was thinking when we meet Jazmyn we get her a bit drunk,” you shrug. You knew she wouldn’t just reveal anything to you. Especially sober. You meet his eyes, “Then you take her up to her room to take a nap or something? Or back to wherever she says she’s staying,” you shrug, “And from there you take her wherever you can that’s alone and you interrogate her.”

Harry nods, “Okay and Justin? He’s gonna be out all night we can’t just get one of them.”

“Well, if he does end up coming I’ll just flirt or something and get him alone. If he doesn’t, you have to get Jazmyn to tell you where he is or whatever.”

He hums, “Okay so when Jazmyn comes, we have to get her drunk then I take her back? That's it? That simple?” Harry was skeptical. He had done enough work in this field to know that simple plans are never executed to perfection.

“That simple.”

Getting Jazmyn drunk was proven harder than you both thought. First, you asked if you could buy her a drink since she just arrived but she insisted she plays better when sober. Then, Harry tried to hand her a drink while she was approaching a game of craps but she knocked it out of his hand onto some random man’s suit who was none the pleased. He sighed an insincere apology to the man as you suppressed a laugh. Harry then immediately found you to keep from drawing attention to himself.

Safe to say the plan was not going well.

On top of that, Oliver, the man you had met earlier, would not leave you alone and insisted on buying you drinks. You took them carefully and set them on a random surface when he looked away, but the inconvenience it gave you was not taken lightly.

You both were on the edge of giving up when Mitch told you through your earpiece that they had gotten Justin, Jazmyn’s brother, and he wasn’t talking. He kept saying his sister has it under control.

Harry looked at you briefly before walking off to find Jazmyn in a rush. He found her playing the same game of craps he left her at and she had just finished betting a push on her opponent when Harry whisked her away.

“Hey,” he breathed on her, voice steady.

“Hi,” she giggled back. Harry smiled, maybe he was getting somewhere with this. He watches as her opponent rolls a perfect twelve and she cheers quietly at her neutral state. “Think I’ve gained four hundred,” she speaks quietly.

Harry raises his eyebrows, “Impressive.”

“I make good bets,” she shrugs with a smile. Her hand finds his, intertwining them together, and Harry watches as her face falls. “Where’s your girlfriend?” Jazymn asks.

Harry smiles fondly and points to the bar, “She’s getting me a drink, ya want one?”

She huffs out a breath in frustration, “Sure,” making Harry smile.

You approach not a minute later with an old fashioned in hand and Harry transfers it to Jazmyn’s. She smiles at you and asks how your night has been.

You glance at Harry and back at Jazmyn, “It’s been pretty good, love getting tipsy,” you shrug. You lean into her, “I always find someone when I get him drunk,” you whisper with a wink.

Jazmyn’s eyes widened slightly, “And today?”

“Workin’ on it,” you shrug, “Why?”

She looks at you and sighs in frustration, “No particular reason.”

You smile to yourself. She’s interested in one of you, you just have to figure out who. “So, Jazzy, are you in a relationship?” you ask her a bit louder then intended.

She shakes her head sadly, “No, haven’t liked someone in a while.”

You purse your lips and nod slightly, “Well I’m sure we can find you someone here, come on!” you enthuse, “There are hundreds here.”

She shakes her head, “I’ve had my eye on someone since they’ve walked in,” she starts, “But it turns out they have a boyfriend,” she looks you in the eye.

You mask your surprise with a soft smile, “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind- they don’t have to tell anyone,” you whisper.

Harry looks your way with a nod. His face is hardened and his jaw is clenched. He looks upset but you couldn’t put your finger on what. “I’m gonna go get a drink,” Harry paused, gesturing to the drink he sacrificed for Jazmyn. You nod in response, watching him walk off.

“They really don’t have to tell anyone?” Jazmyn asks once Harry is out of earshot.

You watch her carefully. For a moment you forget she’s a wanted criminal- a ruthless murderer. In a vulnerable moment, you almost forget that you are supposed to be trapping her.

“Maggie?” she asks. You look at her confused for a moment before remembering where you are and what you are doing.

“Don’t have to tell anyone,” you confirm with a sweet smile.

She smiles back, showing all her teeth. “When shall we go?” she asks.

“A bit forward are we?” you ask, taking the drink out of her hand and taking a long sip, keeping your eyes locked with hers. She shifts, slightly uncomfortable, as you hand the drink back and slightly push the glass up to her lips for her to follow your lead and take a sip as well. “Don’t wanna get to know me? Buy me a drink?” you continue your teasing.

She looks you up and down, “I know everything I need to know about you.”

You raise your eyebrows, slightly unimpressed but wholly not surprised, “Is that so?”

“You like hard liquor, you hate your boyfriend but he gives good dick, your game of preference is poker but you’re bad at bluffing,” Jazmyn trails off, her finger playfully tapping on her chin, “Oh, and you’re hot. I know what I need to know, now let's go?”

You chuckle at her eagerness, “Not all right but I’ll give you props. Not bad.” You begin looking around for Harry, who you find looking at you with an emotionless expression from across the room. “I’ll go get my room key and we can head up,” you wink.

You meet Harry’s gaze and keep it as you make your way across the casino to meet him. “I got her,” you tell him, “I need a key card.”

He nods and scrambles to find one he was given during the briefing, “Third floor, good job agent Y/L/N.”

You fake a gasp as you grab onto the card, “That’s a new one… a compliment?”

“I won’t say it again,” Harry shrugs, watching as you turn on your comm.

“I got her to go back with me. We’re meeting in the hotel room. What now?” you speak to your team.

“Y/L/N, bring her up to the room. We have it equipped with just about everything you’d need. Interrogate her if you can. If she won’t break just detain her and bring her back to us. Styles, you go follow in after ten minutes to help with whatever method is needed.”

You both murmur your agreements and Harry sees you off.

You meet Jazmyn back where you left her but this time she has two large men with her. You smile at both of them before leading the four of you to the elevator, “So you’re an important woman?” you ask.

“Very important. But don’t worry, they’re just here to keep me safe,” she replies, gesturing at the two men’s gun holsters.

You nod, selecting the third floor and waiting patiently as the elevator slowly moved up to the second and finally the third floor.

“Do they have to come in with us?” you ask innocently, hoping you don’t have to blow your cover so soon.

“Is that a deal breaker?” she asks sadly.

“Yeah.. not one for being watched,” you shiver in discomfort. She nods and tells them to wait outside your room and to not let anyone in. They nod obediently and you unlock the door, letting both you and Jazmyn into the large room.

She shuts the door quickly, nearly pouncing on you as you stand by the bed. Her lips meet yours briefly as you pull back in shock. “Would you like a drink?” you ask, turning around and heading towards the mini bar.

She sighs in frustration, “No, that’s okay. Just want you,” she pauses as she watches you bend down to get a drink.

You rise again, holding a bottle of wine. “You sure?” you confirm. She nods in reassurance and you shrug, “Okay, I’m gonna get a glass. Make yourself at home,” you gesture towards the bed.

You leave her and close the bathroom door. You hastily whisper that you are taking your comm off and to contact you through Harry and you detach the harness and tear off the earpiece. You return with a plastic cup, pouring red wine into the cup.

You take a sip, eyeing Jazmyn and you smile at her. You walk towards her slowly, watching as she straightens her posture at your presence. You smile at her intimidation and hold her chin with your forefinger and thumb. “What am I gonna do with you?” you tsk.

She smiles, “Kiss me.”

You set down your cup and lift her chin to meet your height. “No,” you whispered, “Let me please you.”

You were officially worried. It had only been about five minutes. Harry wouldn’t be here soon enough and you really didn’t want to have to do anything with Jazmyn.

“Okay,” she bit her lip, raising her dress without a second thought.

You hid your fear with a sultry smile- helping her lay down on the bed and kneeling down onto the floor. You began kissing up her legs, her hands reaching your wig. You pulled away abruptly in fear but it was too late. Your wig had come off.

“What the fuck?” Jazmyn asks softly. Her eyes widened as she realized what was happening. “Who are you?” she sneers.

You stand immediately but you’re stopped by Jazmyn grabbing at the necklace you wore around your neck. The braid your hair was put in falls onto your back and she yanks it with her other hand, making you groan.

You growl, launching yourself at Jazmyn. “You bitch!” you scream, unhooking the necklace and using the chain to wrap her arms into a makeshift hold as she thrashes in your hold. You use all the momentum you can gather by a simple step forward and thrust her onto the ground using all your body weight.

You step on her hand with a heel but she sweeps your other leg out from beneath you with a swift kick. You fall onto your back and she untangles herself from your necklace, throwing it to the ground as you instantaneously try to stand up before she can reach any weapon.

You reach under your dress and grab the gun you held under tight with your stockings and you quickly point the gun at her. “Don’t fucking move,” you sneer.

“Shoot me,” she replies with a matching tone.

You lower the gun to her leg and attempt to shoot- but nothing happens. The gun wasn’t loaded. Your eyes widen in disbelief and she lets out a deep chuckle and stands for herself. “Good one, Maggie,” she mocks.

You hear a thud from the door and both of you glance at where the noise derived from. “Harry,” you whisper and Jazmyn lets out a “Fuck.”

You sigh in relief as you see Harry’s large figure make its way through the door, assertively pointing the gun at Jazmyn’s leg just as you did before. She chuckles, “Bet it isn't loaded either.”

Harry smiles in response, “Yeah, I bet.” He shoots her. She falls immediately, surrendering to the ground with a tight grasp on her thigh, as Harry speaks into the comm, “Rowland, wipe the cameras and get up here.”

You walk slowly towards Jazmyn, kicking her in the chest with your arms crossed, watching her head hit the carpet of the hotel room.

“What took you so long?” you asked Harry as you turned slowly, making sure to keep your heel on Jazmyn’s chest.

“Had to take out the guards,” he pants lightly, recovering from an adrenaline rush, “Why?”

“Took your sweet ass time, huh?” you ask, watching him roll his eyes.

“Don’t get pissy with me- you didn’t even go through with the mission. She almost got you and you had a gun,” Harry accesses.

“My gun wasn’t loaded!” you yell out of frustration, releasing the cylinder and removing the magazine. “No cartilage,” you show him.

“How the fuck did you not think to check if the gun was loaded?” he asks, his voice raising.

“Why would I check? When have you ever picked up an unloaded gun?” you defend yourself, your voice raising to match his volume.

“I check every time regardless!”

“I was never given a reason to!”

“You should know to! Come on! You were trained for months on this shit at the same academy I was!” Harry yells, “Do better, it’s your fucking job to work a gun.”

Your eyes meet his, “Don’t tell me to fucking do better,” you beg.

Just as Harry was about to reply, the door opens again, this time revealing Mitch. “You guys good in here?” He asks, immediately heading over to you and leaning down to tie Jazmyn’s hands together.

You remove your foot from Jazmyn’s chest and kick her onto her stomach making her groan in pain, “Fine,” you reply shortly.

“We’ll be down there later,” Harry nods as Mitch hoists Jazmyn up, leaning her body weight onto his. Her head falls down, chin hitting her chest at the lack of blood and energy in her body.

“I’m leaving now to get her back,” he gestures towards Jazmyn with his head, “I’ll send a car, though,” he speaks over his shoulder as he walks out of the room.

You sigh in relief of Jazmyn finally being off your hands. You walk over to the bed to sit down when something catches your eye. The necklace. You kneel down to take a hold of it, dragging it towards you on the ground, watching as the necklace falls into two separate chains.

“Fuck,” you gasp, “She fucking broke it.”

Harry's eyes widened, “So what, she broke your necklace. Big deal, you can get another one,” he shrugs dismissively.

You shake your head no, looking for the two rings you keep on the now broken chain. “No, fuck I need that,” you cry out.

Harry looks at you before asking again, “What's the big deal?”

Your eyes water slightly as you look at him, “They’re my ex-husbands.”

Harry sighs heavily and lets out a quiet, “Fuck, sorry.”

“Fuck’s right,” you chuckle, eyes closing in a prayer as you spot the rings that had fallen beneath the bed. You reach under the bed, retrieving the two rings, placing both onto your hand- yours on your ring finger and your ex-husband- Ryan’s- on your thumb.

“Why’d you keep the rings?” He finally asks.

You shrug, admiring the gems on the rings. You had just recently cleaned them in hopes of preserving their life, as they tend to get dirty and battered sitting on your neck during long missions. “He died on the field,” you swallowed harshly. You had been forced to talk about this multiple times with a psychologist during your preliminary training but it didn’t prove any easier as time went on. “Keep ‘em for luck. He’s the reason I got into this.”

He nods, “That’s nice.”

You let out a sigh and look at him, “Yeah, sometimes. Other times I wish I could forget.”

He watches you carefully as you stand up and retrieve your hardly touched wine from earlier. You drink what was left in your glass with a single gulp. “How can I help you forget,” Harry speaks after a long pause.

You look at him and with a longing glance you tell him, “The alcohol helps.”

“How can I help?” he asks again.

“You don’t need to help. You’ve done enough.”

“I think I could help if you’d let me,” he persists.

“And if I don't let you?” you ask, confused. Every assignment you had with Harry he had been nothing but cold. He spoke when spoken to. He paid no mind to you except when it came time to critique your performance. You didn’t understand why he was beginning to care now, when you already had a foundation of hatred thick on the surface.

“I’ll find a way myself,” he shrugs.

“I’d like to see you try,” you scoff. You had no reason to believe he had spent every mission analyzing you- how you reacted, how you spoke, how you moved. The way you went about your work was inspected to the motive and you had no idea.

Harry watched as you turned once more to the minibar, looking for a stronger alcohol. The mission was over and you were officially off the clock. You felt no guilt or shame and there was nobody in your ear telling you otherwise.

He watched as you turned with a mini bottle of crown royal and a can of sprite. “Come on now,” he said, approaching you with his arm out. “Hand over the bottle. No need to drink that much tonight,” he tells.

You defensively shift so your body is shielding the bottles, “Let me do what I want, I’m not working anymore” you argue, “What does it matter to you anyway, you hate me,” you mumble under your breath.

Harry sighs, “I don’t hate you.”

You look him in the eye before concluding he’s telling the truth. Slowly, you set the drinks down onto the small table beside you, “I don’t believe you.”

“Why not? I think you’re pretty good,” he shrugs.

“Today is the first time you’ve ever said anything kind about my work in this field. Every other mission we’ve been on, you’ve told me where I could’ve been better,” you start, glaring at him with an accusatory expression. “Anyway, what gives you that right? You’ve only been here for six more months then me.”

“Because why be good when you could be great? I might have only been here for six more months then you but my position was higher six months ago then yours is now,” he reminds you. “I work smart. You work more. That’s not good in this field. You have to be quick on your feet.”

You scoff and turn around from him, “Okay so how does that prove you don’t hate me?”

“I want you to be the best. I think you could be.”

“So you’re a pretentious asshole because you think you can fix my performance? Cool.”

Harry lets out a sigh of frustration. You’re never going to understand how he cares for you and he knows that, yet he refuses to outright say it. “I never said that.”

“You implied it,” you argue back. He was getting on your nerves.

“I’ve also implied that,” Harry pauses to swallow the lump in his throat. He doesn’t think it’s appropriate to confess to this now, but as you said, you’re off the clock. “I’ve implied that I think you’re attractive. Why can’t you notice that?”

Your eyes widen in shock, “Stop playing with me. I know you haven’t implied that.”

“I have,” he nods, moving closer to where you are standing, “Like when I tell you I won’t let anyone kiss me but you? I mean it.”

You turn and look at him, “Should–should we kiss?”

“Yeah,” he whispers. Gently, unlike what you would assume, his hand finds your chin and tilts your head towards his before aligning your lips into unity. He shifts you with a grunt to a free wall and pushes you up against it with a thud. His tongue forces its way into your mouth and you let out an elicit moan at the new sensation.

Your hands found their way beneath his dress shirt and crawled at his happy trail. Harry steps back to discard the clothes on his torso and he watches as you drop the slim straps of your dress down your arms, unhooking your bra, allowing your breasts to fall free.

His mouth finds its way to your hardened nipple and he flicked one, then the other, between his teeth and eventually he moved his fingers to help the dress past your hips. You moan softly as his mouth works at a steady pace, making your nipples sensitive and erect in their own capacity.

His mouth left your breast, leaving sloppy kisses down your body. Your hands find their way to his hair as your head knocks back in pure ecstasy. You squirm at the feeling of his lips on your hips and feel his fingers claw at your panties.

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. He looks up, nodding at you in confirmation of what he is about to do. You hastily nodded back and watched as he rids your panties and holds your hand softly as you step out of the clothing that had accumulated at your feet.

He wrapped his arm around your waist as he sponged kisses back up to your mouth, biting gently on your bottom lip. Your hands find their way to Harry’s slacks, working quickly to unbutton and unzip them, pulling them down along with his briefs.

Finally, you take in the sight of the naked man in front of you. You involuntarily let out a gasp and Harry chuckles softly before he pressed his body close to yours again. His lips find yours and his erect cock presses into your stomach as your arms find their way into Harry’s hair.

You held him close to you, tugging him even closer when he tried to step away. That was all the invitation he needed to help hoist you up off the ground. Your legs legs around his waist and he keeps you steady with an arm under your ass, the other in your hair.

You kissed his shoulder repeatedly as he carried you onto the mattress, setting you down fully onto his lap. His hand left your hair to find his cock, pumping it a few times before lining up the tip with your wet entrance.

With short huffs of air out of swollen lips, you slowly lower yourself down onto his cock, allowing for a loud, erotic moan to leave his lips as your hips meet. He falls further back into the bed, stretches a leg out to prolong the feeling of warmth as you slowly start to move up and down on his shaft, releasing an immense amount of pleasure into both of your bodies.

He tugged your hair back, giving his access to your neck and jaw and he sucks harshly as you quicken your pace on his member, pressing down deliberately in an attempt to feel him everywhere.

Trying to keep your clit rubbing on his pelvis resulted in a series of hot and short breaths being released within the next few minutes. The pressure against his body was unbearable and you had never felt so full before in your life.

“I can’t,” you pant out, not slowing down your movements. You hadn’t felt this good in a long time so stopping seemed out of the question. You pushed deeper, pausing for a moment to catch your breath, before quickly moving against his shaft for the second time.

“Me neither,” he replies, just as dazed as you. He groans aloud as you squeeze against his cock, causing it to throb in preparation of its release. He tries to pull out but you push him down further into the mattress.

“I’m on the pill,” you barely get out before you come, shivering at the sensation. Harry followed shortly thereafter. He sighs in pleasure, helping you off his cock and into your lap before wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing you desperately.

You watch as he leans back, admiring your body. Your nipples were still erect from pleasure and your breathing was unsteady, short huffs attempting to bring you back to a normal state. There were accidental red marks adorning your neck and a hickey beginning to form on the underside of your chin, “Sorry,” he chuckled, swiping his thumb over the marks he left.

You laugh lightly, “It’s okay,” before rolling over onto your side. Harry stands up slowly, making his way to the bathroom, returning with a towel to help clean you up before he lays back down with you.

“So,” he starts, “We should talk about this…”

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