#the march one was made the day I found out my sister in law is pregnant. this one was made yesterday. the day she left.

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

The MARCH of Time Part 2; or: FEELING THE DOG DAY BLUES

Fall Out Boy // Elina Brotherus // boygenius // via Pinterest // My Chemical Romance // Fall Out Boy //via Pinterest // Ron Padgett // via Pinterest // Phoebe Bridgers

#link goes to the first one #this is shorter than what I've been doing bc it's supposed to match my March one in themes and length #if that makes sense #the march one was made the day I found out my sister in law is pregnant. this one was made yesterday. the day she left. #Lu rambles #web weaving #why yes so much (for) stardust is in fact the album of my summer why do you ask? #cruel summer? no. cool summer. #OH btw the broken glass is supposed to thematically tie in with the lyrics from fake out #bc I didn't use the chorus but part of fake out says ''I just gotta figure out a window to break out'' #which like... yeah I feel that

[plentyoffandoms]

The Sweetest Gift (Part 2)

Main Masterlist ♡ Actors Masterlist ♡ Pedro Pascal Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @bring-me-in-warm 2nd gif @pascalsky 3rd gif @pajamasecrets 4th gif @300mirrors

WC: 2025

Summary: Pedro runs into an old girlfriend, who has kept a secret from him.

Part 1 can be found here

PEDRO PASCAL'S POV

I had my phone out, ready to call my sister, but she beat me to it.

I barely was able to get out "hello" before she started to go at me about the photos that have shown up online.

"Lux, calm down."

"Do not tell me too calm down. Who is he, and why does he look so much like you?"

"Remember YN?"

"Of course. The love of your life. The one who you let go. Why?:

"I didn't know this, but she was pregnant."

Silence, which is never good with Lux.

"Lux?"

"She had your son."

"And daughter." There was choking on her side of the phone.

"Oh my goodness. We have to meet them. We have to tell everyone."

"It will be me telling them. Not you, Lux."

"Tell me everything. How long have you known? Have you known this whole time, and you didn't bother to tell us?"

I was about to tell her when I realised that maybe I should save the story and tell everyone at once.

It will save me from repeating myself constantly.

I told Lux that idea, and I knew she wasn't happy with my decision, but she understood. Now, I just have to find time to tell them.

Lux, after we hung up, called everyone and made arrangements for us all to meet at our sister's place.

When I told Lux I didn't have time, she told me to make time as this is a family meeting.

So, days later, I found myself sitting in Javiera's living room, surrounded by the most important people in my life.

"Lux says you have something to tell us."

"Is that so Nicolás?" I was trying to play it cool. I'm trying to get them worked up because, well, I know once I tell everyone, they are going to be shocked.

"Do you guys remember YN?"

My siblings looked at one another and said, "Yes, Lux already knows where this is going, but the only two do not.

"She found out a bit after we broke up that she was pregnant, and well, I am a Dad."

The whole room was quiet, and then it was like a bomb went off. Every single person started to throw question after question at me.

"Okay, okay, everyone, quiet down, and I will answer your questions."

Once everyone settled down, I told them story how I found out, and I began to tell them about their niece and nephew.

"Their names are Jose Lucas, but he goes by Lucas, and her name is Verónica Emilia, and she goes by Emilia. Lucas is older by 8 minutes. Born in New York City, but grew up in a small town in Nevada. Their birthday is March 17th, 2000. He is a lawyer, and she is a wedding coordinator."

"And they are here?"

"Yeah, he works for Cravath, Swaine & Moore."

Nicolás let out a whistle at that, then saying that is one of the most prestigious law firms in all of New York.

"Anything else you want to tell us?" Javiera asked, knowing from the look on my face that I have more news to tell.

"Emilia is pregnant. I am going to be a grandfather."

YN'S POV

My children told me they had lunch with their Dad after Lucas ran into him on the street.

I am happy they are getting to know him. I mean, truly know him. Not just from the interviews and articles they read about him.

Emilia has seen him a bit more than Lucas, but I know once he has time, him and Pedro will make time to meet up.

My days usually involve me keeping busy doing the odd errands here and there, but lately, I have been staying home. Enjoying the quiet until my grand baby arrives.

I was watching one of the many new TV series that I have been meaning to watch but never got a chance to, when I heard a knock on my door.

I stood up, confused about who the hell could be knocking on my door. Brandon usually walks in, and he also has a key. I looked through the peephole, and I saw a woman standing there, looking around.

I opened the door just a bit and said, "Yes?" The woman looked at me and smiled.

"Are you YN LN?"

"Yes." Still confused as this woman looks very familiar, but I just can't place from where I know her.

"It has been a long time since we have seen one another. I would have been about 8 or so since the last time we saw one another."

It dawned on me, and I opened the door a bit more. "I am sorry, I don't want to call you the wrong name, but,"

"Yes, YN, it is me. My name is Lux now."

Lux. It suits her.

"Please come in. My goodness, Lux. May I give you a hug?"

The question was barely out of my mouth, and I was hugging her. I never thought I would ever get to see any of his family again.

"You started without me?" A new voice startled us. I almost jumped out of skin when I saw Javiera standing there.

"Javiera, you took too long, and I couldn't wait anymore." Lux said as she took a step back to allow Javiera and I to hug.

"Please come in. Can I get you two anything?" I stepped aside and let them come into my house.

~

The three of us spent hours talking. Catching up on the time that we have missed.

I listened as they talked about their lives and the rest of their family, and I have so dearly missed them. They, like myself, thought that Pedro and I would get married.

The sound of the front door and a male voice calling out my name had the two of them quiet down. "In the dining room, Brandon." I called out, and not even second later, there in the doorway, was my future son-in-law. "I hope I am not interrupting anything?" He asked as he smiled politely at Javiera and Lux.

"No, not at all. I would like you to meet Lux and Javiera." They all said hi to one another.

"Lucas will be here soon for dinner."

I looked at the time, and I noticed the day had gotten away on me. "I will order some pizza. I got a bit preoccupied." I smiled at the two women. "Come and have a seat. I will order from our favourite place and it will be here by the time Emilia and Lucas get home."

~

Emilia and Lucas showed up at the same time. He carried in her shopping bags for her and already placed them in the baby's nursery before coming into the dining room.

"Why is everyone so quiet in here?" He asked, and then he noticed the two new faces.

"Lucas, Emilia, I would like for you to meet your aunts, Javiera and Lux."

I watched as Emilia sat down, stunned at finally meeting two out of three siblings of their Dads.

"Nice to meet you two as well." Lucas said, the one who comes around to things more quickly out of the two.

Brandon was looking at the four of them, his mouth slightly gapped in awe. "Close your mouth, sweetie." I said to him.

~

The six of us finished dinner, and I was cleaning up, wanting them to have time with their aunts.

"So when is the wedding?" Lux asked Brandon and Lucas. "In about 4 and half months now." Lux clapped her hands in excitement. I can already tell by the way Brandon and Lucas are looking at one another that they are going to invite all of Pedro's family.

"And you, Emilia. Your mother told us that you are having a baby shower."

"It is in two weeks. I just found out my Mom made a baby registry so we don't get too many duplicates of stuff."

"If you two are available, I am sure we would love to have you." I called out. Wanting my children to spend as much as they can with their family.

"I will have to look at my schedule, but I am sure I can make it." Javiera said, and Lux said the same thing. I gave them the information.

PEDRO PASCAL'S POV

I was out grabbing some coffee when the paparazzi came swarming. They started to fire off the normal questions. Am I seeing anyone. What are my upcoming plans, but then one had me pause mid-step. 

"Pedro, there have been reports that you have been seen with a young male who looks an awful lot like you and a female." I didn't answer as we have not discussed what I should say.

"Do you have children, Pedro? Have you been lying to us this whole time?"

I ignored them as I got to my car and drove off. I did something stupid and drove to the address that Lux gave me after she informed me that Javiera and her went to YN's house to meet my children.

I already messaged YN that I was on my way to talk. That we need to talk with Lucas and Emilia.

With traffic, it took me a bit too long to get to her place. I knocked on the door, and Lucas answered.

"Dad," He pointed behind me, and I saw the cars stopping and the paparazzi getting out.

"Fuck." Was all I said before I walked into the house, closing and locking the door behind me.

"Close the blinds. Make sure the windows are all shut and locked and any doors as well. Some of them do not understand personal space and will do anything to get a photo of you."

Lucas, Brandon, and YN went around, making sure to do as I asked.

"We need to talk. They are starting to ask questions, and I stupidly brought them right to you."

"You can tell them about us." Emilia said.

"Are you sure? They will hound you until they get what they want."

"Pedro," I looked at YN, and she was calm, and she grabbed my hand and held it in hers.

"We knew this day may come if they ever met you."

"I just want to keep them safe, and that is including Brandon." I told her.

"I know, but they have made up their minds."

"And what about you, YN? They are going to come after you as well."

"Well, they can. I just won't answer them. What happened between us? Well, it happened. No one besides us needs to know what happened between us."

The five of us stayed at YN's place. I found myself not being able to sleep as I was worried about my family, so I started to look around the house.

I saw the photos of Emilia and Lucas all over the place, with YN thrown into the mix and a few newer ones with Brandon.

I heard footsteps, and I saw YN and the bottom of the stairs.

"Couldn't sleep?" I shook my head no.

The two of us sat on the couch that I had taken over for my bed.

"You did good with them." I said to her.

"They had their moments, but they were good kids."

"I am sorry, YN," I went to say more, but YN held up her hand.

"What happened happened, and we are here now together."

"But,"

"No buts, Pedro. We are here now, and we have two beautiful children and a granddaughter on the way. We have to look towards that and not what happened between us."

She was right. YN was usually right about these things. But I still love her, and that hasn't changed at all over decades.

YN went to bed, and I finally fell asleep, waking up only a few hours later to the sounds of YN cooking some breakfast.

And just for one brief moment, I imagined that this was my life as I ate with YN, my children, and my future son-in-law around the table with me.

#pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal #female reader #reader imagine #reader insert #pedro pascal x female reader #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal x you

[acrossthewavesoftime]

"My compliments to all the family except for Lott[e]."

Charlotte Philiberthe von Nassau-Beverweerd (1649-1702) (detail); created between 1675 and 1694, though the hairstyle would suggest a date in the 1670s; in the collection of the Rijksmuseum.

For Valentine's day, here's a tale of a romance that did not quite turn out as expected, but left a string of interesting documents.

Let's picture the scene: you're in love. Who do you tell? Well, obviously, you might confide the butterflies in your belly to your best friend, and it just so happens that the lady who's quite turned your head is a distant cousin of his.

This is the situation one Hans Willem Bentinck (1649-1709) found himself in during January and February 1675. His crush was Charlotte Philiberthe von Nassau-Beverweerd, a distant relation (their grandfathers were half-brothers) of his closest friend, then-Stadtholder of the United Provinces and future King of England William III (1650-1702).

William III of Orange and Hans Willem Bentinck; dated to 1676. Collection of Stichting Kasteel Amerongen, via RKD Research.

William interceded on his best friend's behalf, and seems to have taken "Lotte", as he called her, aside when the latter, living with one of her sisters who had married an English noble, paid a visit to the Netherlands.

The Stadtholder, who was friends with Lotte as she was one of the few people who would engage him in some good, old-fashioned banter and, her love for a good joke aside, was an extremely intelligent conversationalist, made her promise to give a reply as to what he should tell his best friend; but that reply never came and so, William, writing to Lotte's brother-in-law, Thomas Butler, the 6th Earl of Ossory (1634-1680), with whom she lived, added a few P.S.-s to his usual (largely political) letters to Ossory:

In late January or early February, William wrote to Ossory:

(P. S.) I beg of you to tell Lott[e] that, all her cruelty aside, I love her with all my heart, and to reproach her that she has neither written, nor even replied to my letter, as she had promised when we parted. I also hope that she will soon declare herself on that which she had promised me to think on when we parted, for Bentinck is very impatient to know how he stands, which seems very reasonable to me. G.*

(* In case you're wondering why William, or Willem in Dutch, signed as "G.", in his private correspondence: it's the abbreviation of the French equivalent of his name, Guillaume.)

However, it looks like Lotte was still ghosting both Bentinck and William, because he signed another letter to Ossory, datable to February 1675, off as follows:

My compliments to all the family except for Lott[e]. G.

A third letter to Ossory lastly mentions Lotte in March 1675:

(P. S.) I beg of you to assure Madame the Countess [of Ossory] of my very humble services, and [Lotte] as well, regardless of my not having any reason to be pleased with her. G.

One imagines that William may have taken his best friend aside and told him to forget about Lotte. Sadly, we have no information on how Lotte reacted to these messages.

If there is anything to be taken from this tale of historical heartbreak, it is that this sort of thing happens. If this Valentine's Day you find yourself unhappy because you're celebrating it alone and rather would not to, remember that you're not alone. Maybe also talk to your best friend, even if they're not a powerful noble in charge of a country.

Oh, and don't be a Lotte and ghost someone with an (romantic) interest in you. Just tell them in polite, but no uncertain terms that you're not into them.

From a historian's perspective, I find it fascinating how the Lotte-letters to Ossory highlight a part of William III's personality that is largely overlooked; posthumously often regarded as a guarded, almost robotically emotionless man, the young William in his early 20s who tries to play cupid for his best friend and adopts a very domestic tone in his missives going so far as to utilise nicknames paints a rather different picture.

Lotte was evidently forgiven, because she became a member of William and Mary's court, and briefly served under Anne as well. She never married, and her motives for doing so have been lost to history.

As for Hans Willem Bentinck, he met a woman called Anne Villiers (1651-1688) two and a half years later: she was, her mother having been the governess of William's bride Princess Mary, the future Mary II, a sort of sisterly figure to the Princess, and the two met through the marriage of their friends/employers. Contrary to William and Mary, for whom love only developed gradually in the aftermath of a fairly traumatic arranged marriage (especially on the then-15-year-old Mary's part), for Anne and Hans Willem Bentinck, their romance was much more organic: they fell in love at their workplace, so to say. To crown their personal happy end, William III stepped in to provide Anne, who was of a respectable family, yet had no fortune to speak of, with a dowry.

For the letters from William to Ossory, see: Japikse, Nicolaas [ed.]: Correspondentie van Willem III en van Hans Willem Bentinck (1927-1935), Vol. II, ii, letters 4, 15 and 16.

#valentines day #history #17th century #william of orange #william iii #hans willem bentinck #charlotte von nassau beverweerd #dutch history

[gwenmontrose]

Of Crossbows and Lawyers

@jilymicrofics February Prompt List | No. 8: Uncertainty

Words: 1.6k

First time writing in English, so I really hope it's decent! Inspired by one of my favourite scenes of one of my favourite tv series, Fleabag 💕

Lily Evans never had problems with the law during the first twenty-eight years of her life.

On the contrary, everyone who knew her would describe her as the model citizen. No speed tickets, no minor thefts, not even a single fine for a book returned late to the local library.

Nothing.

Even her appearance was one of a sensible, intelligent young woman, polite and well-mannered, with that kind of innate beauty that made people in the streets turn around to look at her.

She was, in her words, completely and utterly ordinary.

So, it was with a little bit of a shock that she found herself – at the ripe age of twenty-eight and two days – walking down the corridor of a posh London law firm, in her best suit, desperately trying to keep up with the marching pace of her sister, and just a few moments away from meeting her brand-new solicitor for the first time.

It was even more shocking that Petunia, of all people, was the one helping her out of the legal mess she found herself in, but life had taken a very unexpected turn just a few days before, so Lily had wisely decided to accept any given hand and not to question her neurotic older sister.

Besides, it wasn’t as if Petunia had decided to help her out of pure goodness of heart, or in the name of sisterly affection. When she had found out that Lily had been arrested during a peaceful march for women’s rights, which had unfortunately turned into an out-of-control riot, she had been positively horrified.

«Just think of what this could mean for Vernon’s imminent promotion!» she had hissed on the phone when Lily had called her, as if her precious’ husband’s boss could care less about his sister-in-law’s misdeeds. «We have to clean up your reputation quickly, before anyone else comes to know about this. You need the best defence attorney we can get»

She hadn’t even wanted to listen to Lily’s explanation.

«I don’t care if you were wrongly mistaken for the person who actually broke that window with a homemade crossbow» she had said, almost growling. «I just want to fucking erase your criminal record and be done with this nonsense»

Petunia had probably cursed only three other times in her entire life. Lily had been so stunned that she forgot how to speak for a good twenty minutes.

Therefore, Lily found herself in a truly surreal situation, but maybe this time her sister’s love for order and propriety was going to be her salvation, instead of a constant pain in the ass.

As they were approaching the attorney’s office, Petunia started to rattle off a long and interminable list of dos and don’ts and basic rules of what she defined as “civil interaction”, adding here and there sparse information about the man who was going to represent her.

«He’s on top of his game» she said, stiffly, marching with unexpected sureness down the corridor. «Maybe a bit too young, but he managed to pull Dave Thomas out of a very, very tight corner last year»

«Wasn’t Dave Thomas the one who broke into his ex-wife’s house to steal her –»

«Yes, Lily, and we don’t talk about this in public, please. He was Vernon’s groomsman at our wedding» Petunia levelled her with an icy stare and then went on. «Now, I hear this lawyer has the best success rate of his firm and he agreed to take your case because he’s apparently a feminist» Her mouth twisted in a strange grimace as she said the word. «Or something like that»

«It appears he still has a little bit of integrity left after defending Dave Thomas» muttered Lily. «Good for him»

«I’ve already filled him with the basics» Petunia ploughed on, ignoring her comment. «Just be serious, will you?»

«I’ll do my best»

«And do whatever he says»

«What if he asks me to –»

«And don’t flirt with him»

Lily was so taken aback that she almost burst out laughing. She rearranged her face in the most disbelieving expression she could manage, as if she were extremely offended by Petunia’s admonition, and scoffed: «I’m not going to f –»

Then the door of the office in front of them opened abruptly and the most gorgeous man Lily had ever seen appeared behind it.

«– fucking hell, okay» she concluded in a whisper.

He was tall, dark, handsome in a very effortless way, with warm hazel eyes behind stylish glasses and a stupid, infectious grin dancing on perfect full lips. He was wearing what was with all probability a tailored black suit, for it seemed almost stitched on his lean and athletic body, and he carried himself with that type of self-confidence that could only belong to a person who didn’t know the feeling of uncertainty.

Lily had always thought lawyers were kind of sexy, but she had never seen such a fine specimen and for a moment she almost felt grateful for the absurd situation that had led her to meet him.

Then she remembered she was going to be taken to trial for vandalism and private property damage and her enthusiasm dimmed a little bit.  

«Right on time!» he said, almost jovially, as if he hadn’t just flipped Lily’s world upside down. «Miss and Mrs Dursley, I assume?»

«Miss Evans» Petunia hastily corrected him. «She’s my sister. I’ve taken my husband’s last name»

The exquisite man in front of them smiled kindly – Lily noted that a dimple appeared on his left cheek when he did that – and then hold out his hand to her.

She shook it weakly.

«I’m James Potter» he said.

Even his name was attractive, for fuck’s sake.

«And I suppose you are the dangerous criminal who smashed open a shop window during a very illegal and reprehensible revolt against the status quo» he continued. «How disappointing of you»

Lily blinked.

«I’m joking!» he exclaimed, after a beat. Then he smiled, almost in a mischievous way. «My mother was at the march, too, you know?»

«What?!» Lily and Petunia gasped, the former with incredulous surprise, the latter with clear distaste.

«Oh, yes» he confirmed to both, proudly, before turning again his attention back to Lily. «But I dare say she was a little bit more fortunate than you, since she managed to hail a taxi and come home before everything went south»

«Lucky her» mumbled Lily.

«I must say, though, I’m very curious about the whole homemade crossbow affair» he went on. His eyes, which were sparkling with mirth, searched her in a way that made her feel strangely seen. «I know you don’t just judge a book from its cover, but you don’t seem the type to assemble Medieval weapons in her basement as a hobby»

«Usually I prefer something more traditional as reading a book on a park bench, but sometimes I like to change, you know, to liven up my life» Lily immediately said, forgetting everything about her predicament and her sister’s rules and not flirting with one’s lawyer.

«I think it’s a wonderful way to do so» James agreed. «Even if it occasionally lands you in the local prison»

«It was just a police station��

«My bad, miss Evans» he said, before smiling again. «Apologies»

«So» Petunia interjected, stiffly, before Lily could open her mouth, interrupting their conversation with the timing of a huge pimple on the day of an important date. «I see you hit it off wonderfully»

If James heard the razor-sharp quality of her voice, he didn’t seem to be put off by it.

«I think we’ll get along fine» he commented.

She really needed to stop thinking about him in very different and spicier scenarios.

«Yeah» she said weakly, trying to ignore the “don’t fuck your lawyer” look that Petunia was furiously sending her. As if she could afford to risk her dignity and pristine criminal record just for the thrill to sleep with her attorney. Even if he was something akin to a model. «You can go, Petunia. I’ll manage on my own from here»

Petunia scrunched her nose in a very irritated way, but didn’t dare to argue with her in front of a relative stranger. So, after giving her a stern and reproachful look, she hitched her bag to her shoulder and said a polite and detached goodbye to James.

«I’ll see you later» she said to her and, with a last warning stare, she went off in the opposite direction, disappearing down the long corridor and finally leaving them alone.

For a moment, they both remained silent.

Then James chuckled, almost to himself, and took a step back into his office.

«Shall we get started?» he said, beckoning her to follow him inside. «I’d hate for you to go to prison, miss Evans»

«I really hope you’re good at what you do, because I have no plans to do so in the immediate future» she replied, honestly, and then, feeling strangely bold now that her sister wasn’t there, she added: «You can call me Lily, by the way»

«I don’t think it’s proper for me to be on a first-name basis with my clients» James argued, but his voice was teasing. He sat behind a large mahogany desk that probably was worth a small fortune and invited her to take a seat in front of him. «But maybe I can make an exception for you. Lily»

Lily laughed and shook her head.

When she woke up that morning, she didn’t think that at the end of the day she would find herself in much more trouble than she already was, but it seemed like it was totally going in that direction.

And she certainly wasn’t going to complain about it.

#jily #<2k #jily microfic #james potter #lily evans #muggle au

[liiilyevans]

I love your Bluer characterization!

Every post it’s awesome 👏🏻

So for smutty prompt #35 ( Bleur)

send me smutty prompts

Thank you so much! I was kinda worried cause I've never written smut for them before. I'm so glad you enjoyed though, and I hope you enjoy this one just as much! ❝i couldn't wait any longer, baby❞

Fleur had not thought that she would spend her wedding night being questioned by the Ministry. Perhaps it was too optimistic or naïve of her to believe that her wedding day would be untouched by the war, but she had thought, they'll let us have this. Death Eaters have to get married, too. They will surely let us have this. How very wrong she had been.

They were all finally back at the Burrow, her and Bill and his family - her family now. How strange it seemed to long to call these people family for so long only for it now to feel odd to do so. She still felt like a guest her, though she supposed that wasn't entirely her fault. But if they were family now, she would care for them just as she did for her own parents and her sister.

Determination in her step, she lifted the hem of her dress and marched into the kitchen, leaving Bill to talk to his father. When she entered the kitchen, she found the twins talking quietly among themselves and Bill's mother scrubbing a plate with vigor. Molly didn't even notice her enter, but the twins' eyes were glued on her.

Ignoring them, she stepped up next to her new mother-in-law and gently laid a hand on her arm. "What can I do for you?" she asked. "What needs to be done?"

Molly blinked a few times as if just recognizing Fleur.

"Oh, dear," she muttered, her eyes filling with tears. "I am so sorry. Your wedding-"

"Was just as it should have been," Fleur said fiercely. "I would not change a thing."

Molly rung her hands together. "I had only hoped that we'd make it through the night." She gave her a watery smile as she glanced down at Fleur's dress. "You really were the most beautiful bride. And this dress is just . . . so breathtaking."

"You should consider her lucky then," George said.

"Yeah, Bill would have just ripped it off her," Fred added.

Both of them were grinning like fiends.

"I would have ripped what?"

"Nothing!" the twins said in unison.

Bill was scowling at them from the doorway, and normally it would not have been so intimidating, but since he had been mauled by Greyback, Bill's scowls had gotten much more stern.

"Oh, Bill!" Molly said before she burst out in tears and threw herself at her eldest son, mummering apologies about his wedding.

"Good job, Bill," Fred said.

"Yeah, you made her cry," George added.

"Shut up," he hissed before guiding his mother out of the kitchen and into the living room.

Fleur turned her eyes on the twins. "I saw you two with my cousins."

"No idea what you're talking about," Fred said, picking at his nails.

"Not a clue," George said. "We were with Harry all night."

How convenient for them that Harry was now gone.

"Well, you might want to know that both have boyfriends," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. They, in fact, did not have boyfriends, but neither of the twins needed to know that. "Both from Bulgaria. You might have known that if you had spoken with them instead of sneaking into dark corners with them all night."

The twins' eyes had gone comically wide.

"Excuse us," Fred said, standing quickly. "We've business to attend to."

"Have fun having your bodice ripped," George said cheekily as they exited the room.

Fleur rolled her eyes though she couldn't help but find them amusing. They were the first members of Bill's family she had meant after they were dating, and she had a soft spot for them.

Bill returned shortly after they left. Without saying a word, he swept her up into his arms, dropping his forehead against her own.

"I'm so sorry, Fleur," he said. "I wanted this day to be perfect."

"Do not apologize," she said fiercely. "It is not your fault. It is not your family's fault. You did not do this."

"I love you," Bill murmured. "I love you so much. Je t'aime, je t'aime."

He always did that. Whenever he said he loved her in her language, he repeated himself, as if he could never say it enough. Like he loved saying it as much as he loved her. His calloused hands slid up to cup her face, and she turned her head to kiss one then the other.

"Je t'aime aussi," she said.

"Dad's taking care of mum," he said. "Do you want to go home? We can stay here if you want, but-"

"Oui," she said quickly. "I want to go our home."

Bill smiled and slipped his hand into his pocket. His other hand slid down to grasp her waist, pulling her snuggly against him, and then she was being twisted and tugged through a tight tunnel. They landed in the sand - the lawn really - of their new home.

Shell Cottage was where Bill proposed to her, and where he would take her when he wanted a moment away from his family and his mother's hawk-like eyes. Fleur always found it rather comical that they were already fucking in a house that they were supposed to live in when they were married.

"Do you want me to carry you over the threshold?" he asked, a bit of his old self returning with the glimmer in his eye.

Fleur just rolled her eyes and opened the front door herself and marched in. It was not as if she had never been here before. Bill followed her, dunking to get in the doorway. His hair was still tied back, though a few stands had managed to escape his low ponytail. They framed his face beautifully, the bright red of his hair offsetting the scars that ran across his face.

Most people would consider his beauty gone now that he had those scars, but Fleur did not. She thought he was more devastatingly beautiful now than he had been before.

Beautiful when he'd promised to love her in French and in English earlier that day. Beautiful when he'd danced with her and held her like she was the most precious thing to him. Beautiful when he'd raged at Death Eaters parading as Ministry officials for interrupting their wedding. He was beautiful no matter what he did.

"Enlève ton pantalon," she said.

"Pardonnez-moi?" he said, a smirk falling over his face as he crossed his arms. Most men would have fumbled for the chance to get to remove their pants for her. Not Bill Weasley. No, he enjoyed making her repeat herself far too much.

"Enlève. Ton. Pantalon," she repeated, pausing after each word.

Bill laughed then. "Je t'aime, je t'aime," he said amusement lacing his voice as he slid out of his coat. Fleur would tell anyone who would listen that Bill's voice was made for the French language. Sadly, few people wanted to hear her talk about that.

When his hands fell to his pants, he raised his eyes and watched her with a smirk. Fleur only rolled her eyes in response. Then he was ever so slowly undoing his buttons and his zipper. He was being purposely slow, Fleur knew, and she tapped her foot. When he finally, finally, managed to remove his pants, Fleur shoved him roughly by the shoulders. Normally, she would not have been able to move him, but she'd clearly taken him by surprise if his startled face was anything to go by. He landed on the couch.

"Fleur," he said exasperated.

Fleur did not respond to him. Instead she grabbed the hem of her dress and yanked it upwards, thanking Merlin she had decided against a ball gown and gone with a fitted gown instead. It was much easier to slide her underwear off without as much fabric to shift through.

"Fleur, what are you doing?" Bill asked as he leaned forward. His hand slid along her bare thigh to steady her, but Fleur didn't need it. She managed to kick the underwear away before she gathered up her dress and sat herself in Bill's lap. His hands immediately found her waist, gripping tightly, and forcing her hips back on his thighs.

Fleur huffed.

"Not like this," Bill muttered. "I wanted this to be . . ." He paused and looked away from her. "I wanted it to be different."

"I cannot wait any longer, mon amour," she whispered resting her forehead against his own. "I need you." And she did need him. She needed him to tell her that everything was going to be ok, that they were going to win this war, that they were both going make it out of this alive. But first she needed her husband to make love to her, and she needed to make love to him. "I need you, l'amour de ma vie. I need you."

"Oh, Fleur," he said, his breath ghosting against her lips. His hand found the edge of her dress and slid up her thigh. Fleur's breath caught in her throat as he reached her center and easily slid a finger inside her. Bill raised his eyebrows. She rolled her hips against his hand a few times before he pressed another finger into her. He thrust once, twice, then removed his fingers altogether.

Fleur whined.

Bill ignored her, pulled his hand out from under her dress, and sucked the fingers that had been inside her into his mouth.

Fleur keened.

"Je vais manger ta chatte ce soir," Bill said, his voice dropping an octave or two. Fleur had no doubt that she would end up with Bill's face between her legs at some point tonight, but right now, she wanted him inside her.

She rose up onto her knees, and both of Bill's hands made their way under her skirt this time. One found the hip bone where his name was tattooed while the other slotted his cock against her. With a breath of relief, Fleur slid down onto him.

They remained still for a moment, their foreheads pressed together and sharing the same air. This was what she needed, to feel him against her like this, like she hadn't the past month and a half. They'd been lucky if they got a moment to cuddle, with all the planning and Harry and the war.

"Ma raison d'être," he muttered against her neck as she pulled the elastic from his hair. My reason for being. It was a French term of endearment that he had picked up when they'd taken an impromptu trip to Paris last fall. He'd fallen in love with it, and Fleur had fallen more in love with him every time he'd said it.

Bill's fingers found the back of her dress, gently undoing the zipper until the straps were beginning to fall off her shoulders. Reverently, he kissed her shoulder as he slid one strap off then did the same to the other side. Fleur let her fingers tangle in his hair until he started to slip the gown off of her. Once the top of the dress was around her waist, his hand found her side and squeezed.

Her eyes flew up to his, and emotion clogged her throat as she was hit with the amount of love that was shining back at her. Bill had always been so free with his love, as if he had so much more to give if only someone asked for it. He had been kind to her and teased her and helped her adjust when she first came to England. He deserved the world, and she would have given it all to him if he would keep looking at her exactly as he was now.

She hadn't realized she started to cry until he began to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

"Je t'aime, je t'aime," he muttered urgently. "Ne pleure pas."

She did not mean to cry and upset him, but she could not help it, could not force the tears to stop coming.

"I want to make it out of this war with you," she whispered.

"You will," Bill said, his hand gliding down her back.

"It is not me I am worried about," she said. "It is you." Bill's features softened then. "I do not want to be a widow for longer than I am a wife."

"Oh, Fleur," he muttered. "That won't happen. I won't let it. I will always come home to you."

It was such a beautiful promise for all that it might be broken.

She moved her hips then, softly rocking against him. Bill gasped, one of his hands going to her hip to steady himself. Fleur's hand found his face, her thumb running across his cheek and over his scars. He pressed a kiss into the palm of her hand, hissing out a breath as she dropped back onto him.

"Bill," she whispered, her own hands falling to her breasts as his ran up and down her back.

"Mon amour, you are so beautiful," he said, eyes locked on where she was rolling her nipples in between her fingers. "So pretty."

Bill's compliments were like no other man's. He had seen her first for her intelligence, and then her looks. No one outside of her family and a few close friends had really bothered to look beneath the surface. Bill always did. So, when he complimented her looks, she knew he meant it out of love, and less like the superficial way that most men meant it.

His lips found the space between her neck and her shoulder, and he sucked harshly at it. Fleur gasped, knowing he intended to leave a mark. His hips pressed up into her, and she tangled her hands in his hair. As soon as her hands were gone, Bill moved his kisses lower and his hands found her breasts.

"Please, mon amour," she gasped, dropping down onto him quicker than she meant to.

"Holy fuck," he swore, his hands going to her hips. "How are you always so good?"

Fleur laughed. "Practice?"

"Ferme ta bouche," Bill gasped against her skin.

She giggled when he told her to shut up, mainly because the syllables had been so broken up that he hadn't even sounded menacing. He muttered her name then, and Fleur continued to rock against him, heat coiling in the pit of her stomach.

"Je t'aime," she whispered after a particularly wonderful thrust.

"I won't leave you," he said suddenly, grasping her face in between his palms and forcing her to look into his eyes. "I won't. I refuse to let them take me from you."

Fleur wanted to kiss him and cry all at once. Her beautiful, brave husband. In the end, she settled for kissing him as her hips stuttered in their rhythm, and she dove over the edge with him.

They panted, sharing the same air, as Fleur caressed his face while he ran his fingers up and down her bare back. Gently, his hands found the clips that had been holding her hair up and it cascaded down around them, offering a brief shelter from the war raging around them.

"Ma cœur," he said, tracing his finger over her heart.

"Bill, je t'aime," she said softly.

"Je t'aime, je t'aime," he muttered gathering her up in his arms and holding her close to his chest.

At least for a little while, they could forget what darkness lay outside their beautiful home.

#bill x fleur #bleur #bill weasley #fleur delacour #i changed the wording slighlty #only because i love fleur speaking to bill in french #answered #my writing #smut

[valeriefauxnom]

Day 15 of Scaling the Walls of a Mystery Art!

With all the seriousness of late, it's always nice to have something more lighthearted, as this scene served for this chapter! Chelle seemed to hint at one time that she appreciates having another sister so that she is not completely drowned in the sea of brothers that comprise the rest of the Alberian royal fam, so I used that to synthesize a fun little sister expedition (even if they eventually roped Nedrick to do the hard work as Chelle would be wont to do)!

I was also glad I was finally able to bring back Bearen, the very important stuffed animal that's been kicking around my head somewhere since chapter 3 or so? I always intended to bring it back, but finally found a perfect opportunity at this time to help ease some tensions before we jumped right back into the thick of it!

Relevant exert:

“Good boy, Neddy, and for that trick you deserve a nice treat. Here, have a chocolate, -Beren-made, of course,-as a sort of eventual thanks on his part for your role in delivering his present.” Chelle had brought one along, just in case Zethia needed a bit more tempting than planned, but it would serve just as well for Nedrick marching to her tune and soothe any of his grumpiness at being played. Sure enough, he snatched that, too, grumbling all the way out about this and that. That left them laughing in the room at the scene. And honestly, though she would never admit to it, that was the ultimate motive for this ploy, long in the works, to be sprung now.  It was all merely a way to bring Zethia a bit of joy and reprieve from her worries as Auspex and sibling both.  And in that regard, Chelle had succeeded brilliantly, judging from how Zethia’s face grew redder from laughing so much for perhaps the first time in quite a bit.

Day 3 of a countdown for a new chapter! I think I'll be able to post it with the last picture!

As a last minute teaser, here's an additional tiny bit:

There he was, sitting all nice and innocently in a tavern with some old pals from days past, when this fancy-looking dude bearing the emblem of the crown walked in. Honestly, Ranzal’s first thought was that maybe the tavern had been up to something shady and the state was starting to throw its legal weight around, maybe give some fines or shut the place down entirely.  His next thought, when the messenger decided to start heading in Ranzal’s direction was: Oh crap, did I break a law or somethin’ accidentally at that party?

#dragalia lost #dragalia #scaling the walls of a mystery #dragalia lost fic #my writing #friend's art #The Great Scaling the Walls of a Mystery Art Compilation

[the-broken-truth]

I posted 306 times in 2022

That's 85 more posts than 2021!

306 posts created (100%)

0 posts reblogged (0%)

I tagged 239 of my posts in 2022

Only 22% of my posts had no tags

#resident evil village - 40 posts

#platonic yandere - 39 posts

#the young lords - 22 posts

#batman - 22 posts

#daughter reader - 20 posts

#fnaf security breach - 17 posts

#male reader - 16 posts

#yandere dc - 16 posts

#alcina dimitrescu - 16 posts

#yandere - 13 posts

Longest Tag: 35 characters

#kaleb heisenberg x bellatrix brooks

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Can I have Naruto parents beIN yanderes for a Reader who they found as a toddler and Naruto being a brother yandere

Kinda like the episode where Naruto was dreaming of his life with his family but it realty and they love her and the nine tails also care for her as his pup please

Broken Truth: I misread the ask. I made [Reader] Naruto's Twin Sister. I hope that is okay...

⦁ You are Naruto's Twin Sister, but with Kushina's Features: Crimson Hair, Emerald Eyes, and a killer right hook; Kushina said that when Minato was punched in the face and given a black eye when he was looking for you kicking.

⦁ The day you were born - the Hidden Leaf Village was on high alert and the twins were born without issue but it would seem that half of the Nine-Tails flowed into two halves into the twins meaning half of the Nine-Tails was in Kushina while a quarter of the Nine-Tails was within each of the twins.

⦁ Kushina noticed that Naruto - being the eldest twin- was very clingy with you. He would wrap his arms around you while you slept or scream if someone tried to come near you; that would signal Kushina to get very mad and get defensive.

⦁ Minato - being the Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village - ordered two personal guards to accompany Kushina with the twins at all times; if someone approached the twins or Kushina, that person would be thrown into jail without question.

⦁ Kushina would flatten anyone who tried to touch you or Naruto would bite the crap out of anyone that tried to disturb you.

⦁ As for the fox that lived inside of you, his fragment would keep you warm if you were cold or talk to you in your mindscape while you were sleeping if you couldn't dream; and if you could dream, he would be there in your dream in the shape of a small fox with nine fluffy tails.

⦁ As you grew, the overprotective nature of the family increased - Naruto became more protective, always holding your hand or growling at anyone who approached you.

⦁ Kushina would carry you all the time and coo at you as much as she could.

⦁ Minato made it law that no one was to approach the Daughter of the Hokage, anyone who did would be thrown in jail for one week and had to pay a fine.

241 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

#4

Can I have Yandere resident evil Ethan tall vampire lady and mia x daughter reader

Like how they came to be and how they take care of her and how they rescue her when they get kidnapped.

[Ethan & Mia Winters]

How You Were Born: You are Rosemary's Elder Sister, born years before her and trained by Chris Redfield while Ethan was searching for Mia at the Baker Household. When Ethan left, you were 5 years old and Chris took care of you for 8 years, training you to be a powerful soldier, also - Chris Redfield is your godfather. After Ethan defeated Eveline and saved Mia, he relocated you to a new home with your family and tried to have you live a normal life.

How They Care For You: You were homeschooled, your parents didn't like the idea of having you out in public and homeschooled you throughout the years. They didn't let you go outside of the property lines and tried to have you stay indoors and play with Rosemary and them as a family. They ordered out if you said you were craving something - even if it was a joke. They bought you whatever you wanted over the phone - books, clothes, tech, whatever you wanted...but you were never allowed to leave the house. There was a gym built in the underground basement so you could continue your training but you weren't even allowed to go on a morning jog. That was your life for years; they wouldn't even let you get a job.

What They Would Do If You Were Kidnapped: The moment they realized that you weren't in the house anymore, they instantly called Chris and the tracker they placed in your arm was going off - pinpointing your location to Chris, Ethan and Mia. Once they found you, Ethan would beat the crap out of your kidnapper while Mia would coo over you and call you 'her little baby' before having Chris take you back to the gilded prison that you called home.

[Lady Alcina Dimitrescu]

How You Were Born: You were the corpse of a maid's baby that the daughters were going to eat but Alcina had other plans for you. Implanting a fragment of the Cadou within your body, you breathed again and was reborn as [Reader] Dimitrescu - The Fourth Daughter.

How She Cares For You: She treats you a little bit better than her daughters because you were still so small and growing like a normal baby, plus you didn't get harmed by the cold or turn into flies but you did have the ability to flicker to different locations in the house and the Cadou didn't seem to mutate you in any way. She would take you to meetings, refusing to let anyone touch you or see you, and she was even cautious of his own daughters touching you.

What She Would Do If You Were Kidnapped: Depending on the person: If one of her family took you, she would march to their domains and break a few things before taking you back. If a stranger took you, she was going on a warpath, slaughtering anyone who got in her way and before turning the person who took you into her next meal before taking you home and increasing security.

248 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

#3

Can I request yandere batman Nightwing Red hood red Robin and older damin x clone baby daughter reader that clone with killer croc please. And how they raise her and how the family help

When Batman busted the geneticist for making meta-humans and sending them into the city to commit crimes - he was not expecting the latest. A Small Child with the Paternal DNA Genetic Code of one Waylon Jones - better known to Batman and the Justice League as Killer Croc.

The File that Nightwing found started that the Geneticist hired one of the guards at Arkham Asylum to acquire a sample of Killer Croc's Blood for the better study of the condition that made him like that - a rare disease that resembled something known as Epidermolytic Hyperkeratosis; perhaps the spawn would have been used as a lab rat if the Batfamily hadn't come along.

Damian watched the crocodilian child swimming around the tank with their powerful tail, smiling like the carefree child they believed that they were; he saw from the name on the tank that their name was [Reader] Jones.

Red Hood questioned the Big Bat if he was gonna inform Croc that he was a father now but Bruce decided against it because it would make the reptilian man infuriated and break out of containment to take back what belongs to him. Batman reached into the tank and pulled out the swimming child - who looked at Batman with confused blinking eyes before sniffing him, nodding - as if the agreed with his scent, before nuzzling against Bruce like a baby would its father.

Batman collected all the information about [Reader] before deleting all the information, destroying all of the samples of DNA and leaving the criminal tied up in a tree in front of the destroyed lab.

While the Batfamily looked through all of the research on the new member of the family, [Reader] and Damian were swimming in a large tank at that Bruce picked up and filled with water for [Reader] to keep their scales moist. As fast as Damian was on land - he was second best to his new sibling in the water; the benefits of a powerful tail.

Jason went around to collect the equipment of making an underground room with a heating rock and massive pool for [Reader's] new room, but he made sure to leave a card stating that 'Big Brother Jason' was going to be [Reader's] Best Brother.

Dick went shopping to find the fabrics to make water-resistant clothes for [Reader] so that they could be dry after their swimming sessions and resting on the rock.

As [Reader] grew, they became closer and began undergoing training with all the members of the family - stealth, combat, pistol practice, and everything under the sun, moon, and stars. When they reached the age of 16, they began going on patrol missions to cover the waterfronts but one of the brothers was always with them; they said it was for in case something happened that would overwhelm [Reader].

But the truth was they didn't want [Reader] to run into Waylon and find out who they really were, in fear of losing the reptilian sibling of the Batfamily.

[End]

254 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

#2

Can I request yandere Batman vampire x reborn wife reader x batfamily

Where the reader died a long time ago cuz of some vampire hunter's and she was pregnant at the time and the boy have final found her and want to take her back to where she belongs but this Time she a vampire hunter and The boys have to fight her and trun her into what she hates.

Broken: A Reincarnated Vampire's Lover that's a Vampire Hunter? This is gonna be interesting. Now, let's find out what happens by letting the words weave together!

During the times of old, Vampire roamed the night and ruled over the citizens as if they were shepherds to the sheep that feared the power of the immortals. The most powerful of all the nightwalkers but also the most peaceful was the Family of Wayne - Sired by Count Bruce Wayne.

Lord Bruce was a rather different vampiric lord - he was all-knowing and powerful but he refused to feed off the blood of mortals and managed to make an elixir that substituted for human blood with the same effects. The same went for his sons: Young Lords Damian Wayne, Dick Grayson, and Tim Drake. As well as his daughters: Cassandra Cain & Barbara Gordon.

What made him stand out the most was that he took on a Human Lover - A Village Woman by the name of [Reader] [Surname]. She came to his castle looking for work and found it as a cook in his castle but unlike all the other workers, she did not show fear to the Vampire Lord or his spawn. In fact, she loved them as if they were her own children and they began seeing her for something they never had before - A Mother.

Lord Bruce began falling for the woman and they began to court one another before Bruce placed a ring on her finger and seed in her belly. All was going well until a Vampire Hunter Group burst down the doors of Castle Wayne and attempted to kill the Vampire Head & his spawn but the maiden of Bruce got in the way and took a stake to the heart - it killed her instantly...as well as her child.

Heartbroken and Angry, Bruce and his children killed the hunters before sending his lover to rest in the Wayne Family Catacombs - besides his mother and father. His child was nameless but never forgotten - that was the only time they ever killed but they swore to never let it happen again.

Centuries would tick along and the Wayne Family would still be in power before the rumors began - The Tales of a Female Hunter going around and killing the Vampiric Heads of Families and she was skilled to not waste a single stake. It was told that this woman came from a village that was turned into ashes and rubble by a vampire lord's coven and she was going to avenge them.

When the rumor that the woman was around the Village of Gotham, Bruce sent his sons to scout around the castle to make sure this woman did not get in but she did - however, it did not go unnoticed. Damian was hiding in the shadows before he saw the woman break into the castle through a window - silently breaking it to where they wouldn't have noticed she was in but Damian saw and attacked the woman.

Once he had her pinned, the familiar scent of his mother's blood hit his nose; he roared to his brothers and father as he ripped the woman's hood from her head and mask from her face. His eyes widened as he locked eyes with familiar [Eye Color] eyes that met his in a glare. His mother was under him.

He was suddenly kicked off and the woman pulled a stake out of her belt and charged after Damian but she was tackled to the wall by Dick and Tim while the Count of Castle Wayne walked down the hall, looking wide-eyed at the face of the woman he once loved.

The woman yelled at him - promising his death and the death of his spawn, of all Vampire until she found the one who burned down her village. Bruce just looked at her and tried to make her remember who she was before he was spat upon as the woman struggled against the two men she once called her sons.

Bruce's blue eyes turned crimson as he grabbed the woman's chin, turned her head to get a clear view of her neck, before sinking his fangs into her flesh to steal away her mortal life. Bruce lost [Reader] before - he was not going to lose her again. He will have back what he lost and no one was going to take her away from him again. He will make sure she remained in this castle with the family she once had.

[End]

347 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Can I request yandere Poseidon x half blood rebellion daughter Reader

[Reader] was born long before Poseidon met Amphitrite & mated with a village woman that loved to sit on the beach to watch the sunset and sunrise. When Poseidon met Amphitrite, he instantly told her about his daughter and the woman made it clear that she was not going to harm [Reader] and accept her if she ever come to live in the ocean palace, however, that didn't seem to be what was going to happen anytime soon. Poseidon watched his daughter through the eyes of the ocean creatures and he wasn't pleased with what he saw - his daughter loved and respected her mother but she knew that he was her father and she wasn't pleased with that.

"The Daughter of the God of the Seas? Mother, you should have never told me that I was his daughter, you know that I never forgave him for taking my father [Her Mother's Husband] away from me. I wish he never went on that trip and I shall never forgive The God of the Seas for denying them safe passage... even if I have the same blood as him." [Reader] would announce on the day her mother told her that the man who raised her all her life wasn't her father but the Lord of the Seas was.

This broke Poseidon's heart to hear that his daughter hated him for taking away the man that raised her but he had no choice - that man was taking his place in his daughter's heart and he wasn't going to let it go on any further than it already has. He hoped that his daughter would forgive him and begin to see him as her father, but that didn't happen as time waged on. She refused to use her powers of the sea, she didn't speak to the creatures that tried to tell her things about her father and stepmother, she refused to send prayers to him, and she never accepted the grifts that he sent to her.

When her mother died, Poseidon revealed himself to his daughter and took her to the underwater kingdom against her will, knowing that the girl would never forgive him but as long as she was with him and his wife, he didn't care if she forgave him, she was his daughter. His. Nothing was going to change that.

376 notes - Posted June 7, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

[sims4royalsandimperials]

HIS MAJESTY THE EMPEROR’S WINTERFEST/NEW YEAR’S SPEECH 2022

*”Himlen Hänger Stjärnsvart” by the Stella Chamber Choir plays*

Eric: The winter holidays normally bring joy and families together. For some, it is a difficult time. My beloved nephew, Shane, lost his wife, Caroline, in September after she gave birth to their twin children, Tatjana and Sigurd. We have hung up an ornament with Caroline’s name in her honor. With my daughter, Kaya married to the Crown Prince of Kenauria, we have also hung up an ornament with Michael’s name in his honor. In any case, 2022 has been an unforgettable year for all of us. It has been a privilege for my wife and I to have been able to celebrate twenty years on the throne. In the 20 years I have reigned over Newcrest, I have presided over happy and somber times. This Winterfest, I hope we can continue to help each other and remember to be kind to one another. When I think back to my parents’ accession to the throne back in 1976, the first thing I remembered were my parents’ teachings to all eleven of us: Be kind, be gracious, and welcome everyone with open arms. I still continue demonstrating these teachings to this day to my daughters and my grandchildren. This year was jam-packed with events for my family and myself:

Eric (cont’d): In January, my third daughter, Kaya, married Michael, Crown Prince of Kenauria, who adopted my two grandchildren by her, a gesture which, although unprecedented, was also welcomed with open arms. I am proud to say I have His Royal Highness for a son-in-law.

Eric: In March, my beloved wife, Katrina, partnered up with her longtime friend King Arden of Lunaria, and through their efforts to bring missing individuals home to their families, celebrated the success of The International Missing Persons’ Resource Center, raising a total of §300,000,000 in resources in 2022 alone. The Missing Persons’ Resource Center, with Katrina and Arden’s guidance, have helped bring home 723 missing children and 144 missing adults, since its founding in 2016. We hope to hear more good news from those working at the Resource Center in the year to come.

Eric: May and June were packed with events for the Porcelain Jubilee. Members of our extended family, dignitaries from other countries, and our people came to celebrate with us. I will forever be grateful to have had the opportunity to reign over our prosperous country, however long or short, I shall continue to preside over our country, not only as your Emperor, but as your fellow citizen.

Eric: Unfortunately, our family and friends have been struck with turmoil and tragedy between June and July. On the 20th of June, our Prime Minister, Lars Anderssen, was shot in his home of Northern Brindlen Lakes by an unknown assailant. His eldest daughter, Astrid, was abducted by said assailant, whom we later found out to be Jacob Kelley, a former Prosecution Services agent who is still at large. Thankfully, the Prime Minister has made a full recovery, however, Astrid is still missing, and The Missing Persons’ Resource Center is working extensively to find her and bring her back home. On the 13th of July, my dear sister-in-law, Shirley Kensley Thompson, lost her battle with Pancreatic Cancer, and my family and I traveled to Lunaria to say our final goodbyes. Shirley was an incredible influence on my wife, my daughters, and myself, and we will forever be thankful for having her in our lives.

Eric: On the 18th of September, we lost one of our own: Caroline. Her pregnancy was a complicated one, according to those close to her and Shane. She died just hours after delivering her twins, with Shane at her side.

Eric: Even with these events, it is with great hope that in this continuously changing world that we continue to receive the overwhelming support of you, the people, as we end 2022 on an eventful note. I hope 2023 brings prosperity and peace for all of you. I wish you all a Happy Winterfest and a bright New Year.

#sims4royalsandimperials #Sim: Eric #Sim: Katrina #sims 4 royals #sims 4 royalty #sims 4 royal simblr #sims 4 royal family #sims 4 royal stories #sims 4 monarchy #sims 4 royal legacy #ts4 royals #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal simblr #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal stories #ts4 monarchy #ts4 royal legacy #best of 2022

[moorheadthanyoucanhandle]

THE BOOK WAS BETTER

One more list for 2023: Time once again to post the list of books I moved my lips to during the year just past. As always, this doesn't include articles, short stories, comic books, poems, cereal boxes, Bazooka Joe wrappers, road signs, scoreboards, skywriting, graffiti, or "the room":

N or M? by Agatha Christie

Anti-Semite and Jew by Jean-Paul Sartre

The Long March by William Styron

Hyperion by Friedrich Hölderlin

Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

Understudy for Death by Charles Willeford

The Coven by E. Howard Hunt

What Makes Sammy Run? by Budd Schulberg

Once Upon a Time in Hollywood by Quentin Tarantino

The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece by Tom Hanks

The White Mountains by John Christopher

The City of Gold and Lead by John Christopher

The Pool of Fire by John Christopher

As usual, I must start by sheepishly noting how embarrassingly short this list is; nowhere near the optimistic length I was hoping for at the beginning of the year. But it was still a fine year's reading, kicking off with the appallingly still-relevant Anti-Semite and Jew, one of several books I pulled off the shelves at my late sister's house in Virginia as momentos when The Kid and I were back there in January for her's and my brother-in-law's funeral (my sister and her husband died less than a month apart).

The only book-length work I've ever read by Sartre, it offers, in its earlier chapters, the best, most concise distillation of the bigoted mindset that I've ever read. In the later chapters Sartre gets pretty deep in the weeds about the motivations of "inauthentic" Jews in ways that seemed to me presumptuous. But it's still an extraordinary read.

Another I pulled from my sister's shelves was Budd Shulberg's What Makes Sammy Run? This turned out to be the first of three novels in a row I read about moviemaking, all by inarguable Hollywood insiders. The title character of Schulberg's famous 1941 yarn is the conniving Brooklyn-born hustler Sammy Glick, who runs up the ladder from newspaper copy boy to studio mogul, exploiting and stepping on everybody in his path.

Supposedly Sam Goldwyn offered Schulberg money to keep the book from being made into a movie; it remains unproduced as a feature to this day, though it was done as an early TV play and a successful Broadway musical. Goldwyn is said to have called it "doublecrossing the Jews," though as Schulberg pointed out, most of Sammy's victims in the story are also Jewish. In any case, Sammy's deviousness and sociopathic mendacity are an American archetype that transcends race. My biggest take-away from the book was that, bad as Sammy is, he's still less odious than our 45th President.

Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood is his 2021 reimagining, as a popular '70s-era paperback, of his own 2019 movie set in Tinseltown (and elsewhere) in 1969. As with the movie, it freely mixes real-life figures with fictitious characters, movies, TV shows and incidents, sometimes ridiculing sacred cows (Bruce Lee, most notably), sometimes forging into the realm of alternate history.

The book is not, however, a "novelization" in the usual sense; though he uses the same characters as in the movie, he presents them mostly in different episodes. The boyish wishful-thinking fantasy of revisionist violence with which he climaxes the film is referred to only in passing in the novel, around mid-point, while backstories and interior perspectives are explored in detail. I loved the film, but even if you didn't, you might like the book; I think I liked it a little better.

There's a sort of guileless stylistic freedom with which Tarantino writes prose fiction that I found highly enviable. For instance, throughout the novel he keeps describing a (fictitious) episode of the (real) '60s TV show Lancer on which his faded cowboy star hero has a juicy guest role as a villain. As Tarantino omnisciently describes the episode's plot, and warms to it, said plot gradually, and seemingly without conscious transition, takes over the narrative so that we no longer seem to be reading a story-within-a-story; we're just reading a good ripping western yarn.

Then when we shift back to the Hollywood story, it seems similarly artless and unfussy. This unpretentious feel may, of course, be an effect that Tarantino carefully worked to attain. But I doubt it; I think he's just lucky enough not to know better; blessedly unfettered by the "rules" of fiction writing.

Third in my unofficial Hollywood trilogy was The Making of Another Major Motion Picture Masterpiece by Tom Hanks. This one, which traces the genesis, development and shooting of a big-budget superhero flick based on a '60s-era underground comic, is also stuffed with stories-within-the-story, including two well-done fake vintage comic books, one a gung-ho '40s WWII-era flamethrower tale and the other a parody of it from the San Francisco underground scene of the '60s.

I understand the reviews for this shaggy-dog debut novel were cool at best, but I really enjoyed it. As drama it's a little mild, admittedly, with most of the characters, and especially the movie's good guy director, behaving quite respectfully and decently toward each other in a distinctly Hanksian manner. I found this sort of refreshing, and the author's digressions and obsessively-imagined worlds came to life for me. The book's overriding point seems to be that movies are made not so much by visionary artists as by relentless problem solvers.

Perhaps not surprisingly, therefore, his most vivid creation is his portrait of an insufferable young actor who's cast in the male lead and instantly paralyzes the production with his raging narcissism and unprofessionalism. The novel could have used more of this guy, and inevitably it makes you wonder if Hanks was thinking of anybody in particular.

Also, I appreciated that Hanks threw a shout-out to my beloved hometown of Erie, Pennsylvania (where he also set his directorial debut That Thing You Do!). 

Elsewhere on this blog I commented on The Coven by E. Howard Hunt and William Styron's The Long March. My year-end choice was more relaxing; I finally got around to John Christopher's "Tripods" trilogy of The White Mountains, The City of Gold and Lead and The Pool of Fire, which I'd been curious about since elementary school. Good stuff; I would have enjoyed them greatly back in my younger days. That's what I get for being lazy.

I also took on Hölderlin's Hyperion (1797), which, like The Long March, I picked up at the VNSA book sale. It's a philosophical yarn--it probably influenced Nietzche and Heidegger more than it did other novelists--written in a heightened poetic language, hence pages and pages of rhapsodizing about Love and Nature and the Beauty of Greece (where Hölderlin never set foot) and the superiority of classical Greek culture to modern culture. It can wear you down after a while, even if you more or less share his feelings.

A sample: At one point the titular hero is holding forth to his lover Diotima:

“‘Let me,’ I cried, ‘let me be yours, let me forget myself, let all the life of the body and spirit in me fly but to you; but to you, in blissful, endless contemplation! O Diotima! So did I once stand, too, before the shadowy divine image that my love created for itself; before the idol of my lonely dreams; I nourished it faithfully; I animated it with my life, with my heart’s hopes I refreshed it, warmed it, but it gave me nothing save what I had given, and when I had become impoverished, it left me poor; and now! Now I have you in my arms and I feel the breath of your breast, and feel your eyes in mine, your beautiful presence flows into all my senses, and I can bear it, now I possess all that is most glorious, and tremble no longer, yes! Truly I am not he who I was, Diotima! I have become like you, and divinity plays with divinity like children playing together!’”

To which Diotima replies:

“‘But try to be a little calmer,’ she said.”

That was my favorite line in the book.

#jean paul sartre #budd schulberg #quentin tarantino #tom hanks #friedrich holderlin #what makes sammy run? #once upon a time in hollywood #the making of another major motion picture masterpiece #vnsa

[linggluu]

2023 wrap up!

i just woke up from an hour log nap because i've had this migraine since tuesday :D (not covid) but i needed to get this all out with a nice, one direction comfort playlist in the background. what a year i have lived.

january - went on my first work trip (flying) in my life to north dakota! the bad thing about the NE is that you CAN drive everywhere. i've driven all up and down the east coast just for work , and my customers are literally 20 minutes from my office so i can always drive there but january was the first week i had to fly

february - started going to the gym consistently for the first time since middle school with my best friend. this lasted all the way until july but i'm still in the habit :)

march - discovered the strange tales of the tang dynasty. refreshing bc i haven't watched an (ancient) mystery/thriller in such a long time. lu ling feng and i share a last name! I NEVER SHARE THE SAME NAME WITH ANY ONE IN A CDRAMA.

april - big fight with jeff. discussing our future and how much $$ we're gonna need if we're actually going to get a house. he thought i shouldn't be bitching because i have a "good job" which made a good salary. whoa buddy, i have to keep myself alive. this was a fight that last months especially because he's in florida right now with NO JOB and NOT finishing his degree. at least pick ONE and do it. Someone has to stress around here and it clearly ain't him. am i wasting my time? we've known each other for so long, we are comfortable with each other other, if we dated other people we'd both be crushed? but i don't think we have the same goals.

may - delia still in the office. she's afraid of calling customers to tell them about deliveries. she's afraid of talking to drivers. she was so hard to train because she WOULD not pick up the phone. and she ate all the snacks in the office. and she ordered so much so stuff for herself because it was free. 5 months in and she was still afraid to talk to people. maybe this isn't the job for you? she got transferred out of my office THANK GOD

june - tensions rising in the house again. $$. getting married. my mom is getting on my nerves because she thinks i'm getting behind in life because i'm 30 and not married. and she wants me to get married BY my birthday in October or in December or by January. i'm not ready, i'm not in the mindset. she needs money, she also needs an ego boost of saying "my kid is married". i'm tired of coming home and walking on eggshells, wondering when she'll come and bother me. i'm tired of her sharing stress on me. i'm tried of her asking me for money all the time because i can't save. she keeps asking when i'm gonna bring jeff over but i never have because i don't want associating the good thing in my life with the bad thing. without the restaurant, she's even more annoying.

july - my mom started asking for $ again. A bulk of my check every month. my career and finances are finally getting steady because i'm in a nice groove now and i can save. stop asking me for money! the shitty thing is i found out my sis was slowly moving stuff out (she found an apartment of her own in may , i also found a house.) but she was denying it smh rude. my mom stopped me from moving out but not lili because i'm soft. and because "i owed her an explanation about jeff" . i don't owe her shit and i don't want to tell her anything about my personal life.

i moved all my shit out on July 7th which was a Friday. I was in the middle of a move while mom called me and cheerfully asked about if we were going to RI over the weekend and i faked it. liz helped me move and got me stuff for the room. air purifier, clothing rack, a mixer, a clothing chest thingy. i'm so lucky to have her.

that whole day was was so exhausting and terrifying because i was trying to move all my shit out while she was at work. a few days before this sister and brother in law gave me a spare bed and desk for free. they also helped me rent a box truck to get all this over. forever grateful. but at the end of that friday night, i was so exhausting i was SHAKING. then i typed out a long text message to my mom and shut off the phone.

i was afraid to turn it out, i cried all night because what kind of daughter ditches her parents like that and lies? i was so miserable that first night and first week. i was on the phone with liz all night and she was about to come sleep over.

why doesn't my mom ever ask stan for money? god i'm tired.

哭完以后还是一条好汉。

august - my mom kept calling me but i kept ignoring her. i didn't read her text message reply but one message i read she said 你真的狗卑鄙. how dramatic do you have to be? you used me my whole life to work my entire life , denied me of many opportunities and i didn't have the balls to leave until my younger siblings left because i was still trying to be a good daughter. life goes on. went on vacation to Philly with Lili and Stan at the end of august. my roommates C and K are nice :) one is a teacher one works for the state. both nice and clean girls just trying to live out here. everyone is clean, respects each other's privacy and safe. K has a cat named Gnocchi who totally runs the house. i love him ;;

september - life is settling in to a nice groove. work. gym. home. 三点一线。C is taiwanese so we get along great - culturally + food ;; she asked me to go to the cat shelter bc she wants to adopt another cat. this was the right choice. i make enough $$ to rent an apartment like lili but still the bulk of one check. not that worth it. i'm so lucky i found this older house. we all have our own rooms and i got the garage spot. the house is also owned by the same landlord who owns the apartment complex behind us! lawn, snow all done by him! i made the right choice. to live with roommates and kind of experience that college life i never got to experience, except it's work and i go to work now instead of class. is it weird or nah. but it's a good feeling. i don't like to be lonely and jeff's not here and all my friends are doing their own things and we live every where.

october - birthday month! i'm 31 and i'm fucking old. life is good in terms i don't have to come back to stress or the pressure of getting married or giving up my pay check like i'm still in high school. started rewatching naruto yay. still learning how to be an account manager. drivers and alberto and james and joe piss me off . i'm still too soft.

somewhere between october and november , i visited pioneer again. i miss it so much. i miss making medicine.

november - made up with jeff. we're going to his friend chris's wedding in july , the same weekend as jeff's birthday. lili also gave me her gaming pc. been playing games :D jeff also recommended me some games to get. thanksgiving was chill. went to boston with chelsea. spent too much money and time was too short. yay.

december - all of a sudden, it's the last day of december.

K had an Xmas party two weeks ago. I invited Lila, Sara and Liz. We ended up watching 一念关山 in my room. Christine stayed in her room and didn't mingle. For both Xmas and New Year's Chelsea asked if I wanted to spend it with her family but on Xmas I spent it with sibs and right now, I've been sick since LAST Saturday. I'm so grateful to her because she knows i'm not with family.

started back our ksll group chat. i miss my friends.

All in all, this was a crazy year. but i think i'm happy.

2024 goals:

lose weight (specifically 40-50 pounds by July) it's gonna be rough ugh

amp up my resume. promotion? new job?

save money/be more responsible about money

have a healthier life style

travel more.

deuces.

here's to 2024 i guess.

#personal

[saganandkatelynindc]

Washington DC

On Saturday, July 15, 2023, I will FINALLY take my 13-year-old grandson, Sagan and my almost 12-year-old granddaughter, Katelyn for their "Damma teaches Washington DC" trip that they were supposed to do respectively in 2020 and 2021. Thanks for screwing up EVERYTHING Covid!! 🙄

The trip was a big deal in this family - a rite of passage - and it happened the year you were 10 - until Covid. We left early on Friday after Thanksgiving and came home the following Wednesday. My first trip was with my sister-in-law, Michelle, nephew Bowen and Kepler in 2011; next trip was with Mark's cousin, LaVerne, her granddaughter Rachel and Anson in 2014; then LaVerne, her grandson Will and Colin in 2015; then my BFF, Gwynn, her granddaughter Charlotte, my former colleague, Amanda, her son, Dylan and Kylie in 2018. I started putting together Sagan's trip in 2019 for November of 2020 - when... well, you know. So, I moved everything one year ahead and included Katelyn since her trip was supposed to be in 2021, but that got changed too. November of 2022 would have worked with Covid, but now Sagan was in middle school and pulling him out of school seemed just plain wrong - so I said "nope." And that takes us to now.

I found my adult traveling companion - my friend Daphne - secured the date with the kid's families, bought the plane tickets and booked the hotel last summer. Before we left for South Korea and Japan I spent a crazy amount of time, re-doing my workbook and organizing our schedule - just ask Mark. I made it a flipping full time job! Since Covid, most everyplace requires time-tickets for entry. The tickets are free - but you have to know when the tickets are being released to get them. Every place has their own rules. Some places release the tickets at 8:00 AM one month to the day before you go. Some places release the tickets in blocks of 3 months at 10:00 AM; some in 6 weeks blocks at 12:01 AM. It is complicated - and I really wish they would talk to each other. The point is that I worked that out and got on line exactly a few minutes before release and refreshed until the place opened. The ONLY place I was unsuccessful was the Washington Monument. They release at 10:00 AM one month out. At 10:00 AM one month out I was going through security at the airport heading to South Korea. But no worries - I logged on at 10:12 AM. To my shock I discovered ALL the tickets for the entire day were gone. 12 minutes late!!!! They will release a few ticket at 10:00 AM the day before we wanted to go - but we will be taking a tour of the National Cathedral then - so we may or may not be going up to the top of the Washington Monument. (I'm putting my money on NOT.)

I gave the kids their required reading list and their assignment for their 5 minute oral reports the week after school ended.

I gave Sagan:

This is the Day:  The March of Washington. - Leonard Freed.

This collection of mini-books (easy-peasy)

What is the Declaration of Independence?

What was D-day?

Who was Neil Armstrong?

I gave Katelyn:

The Voice that Challenged a Nation: Marian Anderson and the Struggle for Equal Rights   - Russel Freedman.

This collection of mini-books (easy-peasy)

Who Were the Tuskegee Airmen?

Who was Amelia Earhart?

Who was Ida B. Wells?

These books had be traded after they finish them.  The toughest book on this list is “The Voice…”. But I wanted them to read it and I knew they could.

I also gave Katelyn: Red Tail Captured, Red Tail Free,  - Alexander Jefferson (one of the Tuskegee Airmen). Mark and I met him at an event at the African American Museum in Detroit.  I want Katelyn to be my Tuskegee Airmen expert at the Air and Space Museum. 

I am also giving Sagan:  Lincoln: A Photobiography - Russel Freedman. I want Sagan to be my Lincoln expert as we go through the Lincoln Museum in the lower level of Fords Theater.

The last 2 books did not need to be traded.

I also sent a Washington DC postcard to Sagan and Katelyn about their “teaching assignment.”  I wanted them to research and teach us about two men that gave their fortune to the US to enable so many to learn so much at no cost.  Sagan has James Smithson and Katelyn has Andrew W. Mellon.  I asked them to prepare a 5 minute oral presentation on their guy. They have worked hard and both have powerpoint presentations. I am taking my computer so we will be ready.

Notebooks are ready, timed entry passes are organized, Metro Cards have been refilled with $$$s, packing lists are sent, the kids have notified me that they completed all their reading and reports are ready.

We are ready to GO!!!

Here is what we have planned:

We are going to have a blast!!

Stay tuned!

[whimsicaldragonette]

ARC Review: Children of the Black Glass by Anthony Peckham

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Publication Date: March 7, 2023

Synopsis:

In an unkind alternate past, somewhere between the Stone Age and a Metal Age, Tell and his sister Wren live in a small mountain village that makes its living off black glass mines and runs on brutal laws. When their father is blinded in a mining accident, the law dictates he has thirty days to regain his sight and be capable of working at the same level as before or be put to death. Faced with this dire future, Tell and Wren make the forbidden treacherous journey to the legendary city of Halfway, halfway down the mountain, to trade their father’s haul of the valuable black glass for the medicine to cure him. The city, ruled by five powerful female sorcerers, at first dazzles the siblings. But beneath Halfway’s glittery surface seethes ambition, violence, prejudice, blackmail, and impending chaos. Without knowing it, Tell and Wren have walked straight into a sorcerers’ coup. Over the next twelve days they must scramble first to save themselves, then their new friends, as allegiances shift and prejudices crack open to show who has true power.

My Rating: ★★★★★

*My review and favorite quotes below the cut.

My Review:

This was fantastic! Much darker than I was expecting, and such an original story! The harshness of their world was so realistic and felt so immediate and real - despite being so far from the realm of anything I have known. That takes skill. The writing itself was excellent; clear, concise, full of profound truths, and managing to capture the way the children's perspective shifted as they grew used to the city of Halfway and began to leave their Mountain ways of thinking behind. I could almost see their brains expanding and their thoughts blooming. The children, Wren and Tell, and their friends Rumi and Cormoran, were excellent characters. So were the adults, although not many of them were particularly likeable. The children were all so clever and capable, but also the fact that they were children was never forgotten. They made mistakes it was believable that children would make. At the same time, they were able to succeed in a lot of their risky plans *because* they were children and either small or overlooked. I was never sure who was winning or even ahead - or even on which side. And by the end of the book it's still not entirely clear, and I love that. It's messy and so it feels even more real. I can't wait for the next adventure, for Wren and Tell and their found family's adventure on the Mountain and then maybe also after they've regrouped and figured out a way to move forward. I can't really picture what that will look like - will they try to retake the city? Will they try to forge a new path somewhere else? I don't know but I can't wait to find out because I know that, whatever, they do, they will be clever and engaging whilst they do it. *Thanks to NetGalley, Simon and Schuster Children's Publishing, and Atheneum/Caitlyn Dlouhy Books for providing an early copy for review.

Favorite Quotes:

As sleep crept up on him at last, Tell had a final thought: every rule you break makes breaking the next one easier.

---

Wren sighed. Sympathy didn’t exactly bubble through their veins, but terrible things bond people more than good things do.

---

Tell cut her off. “Everyone thinks we have no power because we’re children. That’s a mistake. And it makes us even more dangerous than they know.”

---

“Being funny isn’t the same as being happy,” Lilit explained, voice suddenly thick with feeling. “Often, it’s the opposite.”

#Children of the Black Glass #Anthony Peckham #netgalley #arc review #shilo reads #book review #best books of 2023 #favorites

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

“MAN MUST PROVE HE IS A BIGAMIST,” Toronto Star. February 17, 1933. Page 2.  ----- Accuses Himself, But Must Produce Documents Too, Court Holds ---- A troubled conscience caused William Payne to surrender to the police yesterday. He said he had gone through a form of marriage with one Christina Casteen, in October, 1923, although legally married in Winnipeg in 1921. 

"There are some peculiar circumstances to this case," said Assistant Crown Attorney Snyder. "He tried to get a divorce in the United States, I believe. 

"We'll have to hold the case over," he added, "as Mr. Payne, although he has pleaded guilty, has not given us sufficient documents as proof." 

The accused was accordingly released on bail on a remand until Feb. 24.

Amateur Sleuth Rose Davis acted as an amateur sleuth, she told the court. 

Suspecting a Ukrainian woman of stealing a dress from her shop, she went several evening to the Ukrainian Hall to see. if the dress would appear on the dance floor. It did not. 

"Then I read the paper, and saw where this woman had been accused of taking goods from a store," she added, in charging Sadie Zulyn with theft, "and I had good reason to think she was the thief, as she was the last customer in my store on the day the dress disappeared." 

The evidence not being all presented, the case was adjourned until Feb. 24. The alleged theft took place early last November. 

Elizabeth Commander, three times convicted of drunkenness, went to the Ontario reformatory for three months. 

"Give me a chance, I'll go to Montreal," requested Nellie Allen, who pleaded guilty to keeping a resort. 

She had been in jail for two years on a vagrancy charge before and had recently been given a suspended sentence. 

"She has been given two chances already." decided Magistrate Patterson. "She'll go to the Mercer reformatory for three months." 

Woman Dentist Charged Dr. Margaret Kinsman, a dentist of Windsor, was charged with criminal negligence while driving automobile. She was alleged to have injured Miss Alberta Douglas. 

"She had a scalp laceration and a fracture of the leg," said Dr. McGow, who had attended the injured woman in the General hospital. 

"I haven't Margt. Kinsman here," said her counsel. who pleaded not guilty for his client, "as I thought! there was going to be a settlement made within three weeks." 

The case was remanded until March 10. 

Restitution having been made, the charge against Fanny Waisglass of false pretences was dismissed. 

Mrs. Irene Cutler, convicted of theft, was asked by the court to sign a bond of $200 to keep out of departmental stores for the next two years. 

"I think her daughter's should also be on the bond," declared the crown. 

The two women accordingly signed the bond together. 

Mary Brindle. who possessed a lengthy police record, was sentenced to the municipal reformatory for three months, on a charge of keeping a resort on Oak St. 

Robert Small, found in, paid a fine of $10. 

Wm. Colleman, found in, also was given a fine of $10. 

Pasquale Facchini, up for sentence on a conviction of assaulting and beating his wife, was bound over to keep the peace towards both his wife. and sister-in-law on a bond of $200.

#toronto #women's police court #bigamy #bigamous marriage #theft #public intoxication #assault #long criminal record #woman in the toils #women prisoners #sentenced to prison #mercer reformatory #toronto jail farm #brothel keeper #fines and costs #wife beater #great depression in canada #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

[ktheist]

(why) we got married | m

synopsis. they say the 7th year of your marriage is always an uphill battle - but with the existence of your prenup coming to light thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend’s slip of tongue - first it reached your and his families, and then your family’s close friends and then your family’s close friends’ friends until - almost everyone is speculating on the grounds of you and taehyung’s marriage being anything but love.

you’re not sure if you’re even going to make past the second year mark in your marriage. but is the reason you got married really as important as why you choose to stay or leave?

muses. chairman!taehyung x stewardess!reader

alternative title. as you are.

inspired by. the 1 by taylor swift

genre. arranged marriage au with a pinch of drama and angst

words. 12.5k

warnings. explicit content

verse. knj. ksj. myg. kth. pjm. jjk. jhs. story time.

x

in your defense, neither you nor taehyung made an elaborated plan to deceive both his family and yours with the marriage which yes, had been founded upon a contract. but that’s not the point - the point is, your father and brother never sat down with taehyung and had a man-to-man talk. and his mother never sniffed out your reason for marrying her son being his abundance of wealth. but when all comes to light, thanks to taehyung’s lawyer slash family friend who made a slip of tongue - your parents and his were the ones most vindictive about who’s digging whose gold.

and to be completely frank, you were one article away from calling up your mother and telling her that you seduced taehyung into marrying you - just so she’d stop baring her fangs at mrs. kim. these days the headlines keep blowing up your mother and mrs. kim’s completely-by-chance meeting at a five star restaurant that erupted into manic yelling and pointing fingers.

“what did you say, you-” the audio bleeps for a split second before your mother in law’s voice comes back on, “-it was your daughter that seduced my son!”

“you crazy-” the audio bleeps again, “-you better watch your mouth or i’ll-”

the remaining seconds of the video are filled with bleeps that make it hard to even understand what either woman was saying. a wave of regret floods your chest as you scroll down the words strewn out into a juicy, tea-spilling commentary on your and taehyung’s past - the writer seems to pick up the minor little details that, in hindsight, leaves a big fat question mark out in the open.

when exactly did ___ ___ and kim taehyung start dating?

the answer was never.

the two times you and taehyung were photographed together was at a cafe near your office and the other, near his penthouse wherein you were discussing the terms of the contracts by yourselves. the one near taehyung’s penthouse being the final stage where you both signed it on your ipads. to the naked eye, you probably looked like you were on a date and being young professionals, it was only a given that both of you had some sort of electronic on you at all times - even during dates.

everyone just assumed you were together and with the assumption of being together, comes the conclusion that you were deeply, madly in love. was it the way the picture caught you two looking at each other with smiles on your faces? was it it’s sister picture that stilled you in a frame where you’re looking at your ipad and taehyung looking at you with the same - possibly remaining - smile from the moment the first picture was taken? that, you will never know.

but so it goes, you started going to socials together because taehyung needed some cleansing from his... charm-filled past. he used to go to those with different partners each week, and the previous woman that went with him always ended up refusing to talk about it or boasting about her ‘relationship’ with him. that was of course, after yoo now-kim jeongyeon got married three years ago. he used to attend those socials with her for the most part.

but someway, somehow, his public record was clean of any drama.

you would know, you’ve seen the man in action with your very eyes. on your 7th social event together, son chaeyoung had marched up to you and him like a ticking time bomb, red-faced and flaring nostrils and all. you were about ready to stand your ground when taehyung softly touched your hand that was around his arm and asked if you minded if he left for some fresh air.

of course you didn’t - respectfully, you couldn’t care less what taehyung does as long as it didn’t bring a negative light to you and him and the dynasties you both carried over your shoulders. everyone had their eyes wide open and ears perked for what was to come when taehyung walked chaeyoung out to the hallway. but nothing happened, and you were left to mingle on your own until he returned, looking devilishly handsome as always and strutted up to you with an air of refined sureness.

chaeyoung didn’t come back with him but everything remained quiet - not even a dramatic “stay away from my man!” at any point of your contract. you never asked how he did it - you thought it involved money, but over time, you realized it was just kim taehyung and all the things that made those women attracted to him. and just like a flame, he’d burned the moths’ wings until they couldn’t flutter over to him anymore after your wedding.

“uh, miss, we’re here,” the driver calls, meeting your eyes through the rear-view mirror.

it takes you a few moments to close the cover of your ipad and shove it into your handbag before pulling out bills that’s worth more than your car ride, “thanks, keep the change.”

and with that, you hop out of the cab, ready to put on a facade of grace and confidence. the staff who knows you greets you with a range of emotions, some with unhinged admiration from day one, others with curiosity on what’s truly hidden beneath those darken ray bans - without a doubt, aware of the drama going on between their boss’ mother and their boss’ wife’s mother.

either way, you make sure to return each smile and greeting like you always do. red lips sewn across your face like an ever smiling doll.

it’s only once you’ve entered the elevator and luckily left to your own devices, do you let your shoulder sag, the smile downturned into a frown all the way until a ding echoes into the small compartment and a red ‘8′ flashes on top of the doors.

you don’t fail to fix the secretaries a smile, relief flooding over you at how their warm - or was it profession-required - greeting hasn’t changed even after the rumors spreading about your inevitable divorce - of course, purported by you and taehyung’s mothers.

“son, if you don’t divorce that woman right away, i-i,” and here you see for yourself, the woman who called you ‘my daughter’ with the most loving voice, stuttering into a fit of rage, “i don’t think i can face my friends anymore - that bitch jihye has been slandering our family saying you used her daughter to get hold of the company!”

mina is about to knock on the door and announce your arrival when you hold a hand up before placing an index finger to your lips. she doesn’t need to be told twice when she nods once and steps back to leave you eavesdropping on your mother in law and husband.

“that’s fair,” there isn’t even a stuttered beat in his response.

“what-”

“that’s part of the reason we got married,” he goes on, “and ___ needs some help setting up her brother with some connection so it works out - and mom, please refer to ___ and mrs. jeon by their names, ___ is still my wife and mrs. jeon is the woman who raised her.”

“y-you-” mrs. kim stutters out in disbelief just when you decide to make your presence known, hand on the door, “you ungrateful child, oh my- oh my-!” you walk into the sight of the woman falling backwards with mr. ji the kims’ lawyer stretching his arms out to catch her, shouting “madam!” while taehyung launching himself across the room, “mom!”

mrs. kim ends up hospitalized.

“it was a case of stress and overworking that should go away with a good few days’ break,” chairman kim who also opts to assume his seat as part of the hospital’s doctor and a family friend of taehyung’s, fixes you with a reassuring smile.

the stethoscope and white robe gives off a more professional vibe than the sophisticated air you see him wear at family dinners.

“that’s a relief - it’s nothing life-threatening,” the smile you return doesn’t seem to sit right with him as his eyebrows knit together and a cloud seem to loom over his face.

“it’s really not in my place but,” he pauses, probably weighing out the pros and cons of offending you with what he’s about to say - but he doesn’t need to worry too much because after today, you probably won’t be seeing each other at dinners any time soon, “me and jeongyeon,” he means his wife and taehyung’s childhood friend, “are here for you if you need to talk - i know mrs. kim can be a little unreasonable at times, but give her some time. don’t give up on her.”

you nod once, murmuring a hollow ‘thanks for that, seokjin’ before watching the man strut down the hallway, the sound of his footsteps accompanying his leave. only when you’re left with the sound of your breathing, do you finally allow chairman kim’s words to sink into the deepest depth of your heart.

it’s not an easy task to keep your heart still and unbothered by your own mother in law’s words. even now, you can still hear her embellishing her headache, back ache, joint pains and every sort of non-fatal pains she has enough to get taehyung to stay by her bedside - so he doesn’t go home. doesn’t go back to the place where you two have built for yourselves.

and yet you can’t help but agree that - “if you’d divorced her just like i told you, i wouldn’t have fallen so ill!” she sighs, just as you’re about to slide the door open.

all of a sudden, the image of the delicate woman swaying and tumbling towards the ground flashes at the back of your head and you instantly recoil, as if the door was made from fire.

the fear of worsening mrs. kim’s health at the sight of you has you backing away, choosing to wait at the seat in the hallway instead. seconds stretch into minutes and minutes into hours until you feel your body being shaken.

your eyes which you never noticed fluttered close - snap open only to gaze at the face of an angel - a concerned one at that judging from the way his eyebrows knit together. and then you’re hearing the smooth baritone of his voice. you almost pulled out your phone from your purse to ask if you could have it recorded so you could listen to it as a lullaby.

that is, until you realize the angel’s disheveled wavy hair and eyes that look like they’re well on their way to falling asleep standing.

“taehyung,” the name slips out of your mouth with a surprised gasp as you note the pristine pastel background of the vip section, body jolting to sit up from your previously slumping position.

“have you been waiting all this time?” he takes a seat next to you - and only then do you notice the unkempt mess that he is.

the first few buttons of his shirt is undone whilst it hangs over his shoulders, untucked, tie hanging loose over his chest as he drapes his blazer over his arm. the sight is almost alien, especially coming from someone who can’t even stand a crease in his shirt.

“what time is it?” you wonder, reaching for your phone while he checks the rolex on his wrist - which proves to be faster than rummaging through your bag.

“seven-thirty - you’ve been waiting here for more than five hours,” and just your luck, right as the words hit the air, your stomach decides to remind you of the meal you’re about to miss if you stay here any longer.

the heat rushing to your cheeks a second later is immeasurably hot, “o-oh, okay.”

clearing your throat, you ask, “so how was mother? seokjin already told me but i wanted to hear it from you that she’s okay.”

“you know how mom is - keeps saying her head hurts from the fall even though mr. ji managed to catch her halfway,” in any other circumstances, you and him would have found humor in how your mother in law’s overembellished diagnosis to gain attention from you and taehyung - but this time, it’s only one of you she wants that from.

it doesn’t stop you from chuckling though, “it sounds just like her - maybe i should make some ginseng chicken soup to help her get better... or beef seaweed, you know, her...”

swallowing the lump in your throat is a feat - and unfortunately, you’ve failed terribly as taehyung gather you his arms.

only then, do you realize you’re sobbing like a child, emotions running wild as everything comes crashing in like a storm - his mother, your family, the whole fucking tabloids that’s being written and ready to be posted in the next few hours and the fact that the marriage may have been a fraud, but the bonds you made along the way had been more than just business. mrs. kim was a mother to you as much as yours is to taehyung. there may have not been any love between you two but you cherish his family like he cherishes yours.

“i’m sorry - for causing a- a scene - for causing mother to f-faint-” you weep and weep.

in your crying fit, you barely notice the way his arms tighten just the tiniest bit as he sways you left to right gently, one hand on the back of your head caressing your hair as he whispers something along the lines of “it’s not your fault” and “we’ll figure it out together.”

and so for the nth time in your one year of marriage, you’re banding together to capture mrs. kim’s heart again. the first time you visited her with taehyung, she narrowed her eyes at you and demanded taehyung explain as to why he didn’t come alone through the very same eyes next second.

when the man pretended not to notice and even placed a hand on your lower back just as your steps faltered in a ‘i’m with you’ kind of way, she opted to stare out the window while you unpack the broth you made onto the table. the portion you poured into the bowl you brought was getting colder by the minute as you spoke to her, “mother, i made beef seaweed soup, it’s your favorite, isn’t it?”

the only indication that she was listening was the way her eyes scanned the bowl of broth in front of her and proceeded to keep them on the window until you had to leave.

and so goes your second and third visits being received with shoulders made of ice a kind of silence that never fails to make your stomach churn with a sort of nervousness you should have felt when you meet your future husband’s parents for the first time. but the first time you met mrs. kim, your chest was filled with nothing short confidence and woo her you did along with taehyung’s relatives and closed friends. at the time, you didn’t think what you were doing - fooling everyone into believing that you’re marrying each other for love - would come biting you in the ass.

if karma existed then this probably you getting what you deserved.

on your fouth visit, you’d come alone because taehyung had an urgent meeting to attend. mrs. kim spared you a once over just like a rabbit who voluntarily and follishly hopped into the lion’s den.

“mother,” you offer her a smile, “how are you feeling?”

when silence is the only response you get, you quickly rummage through the paper bag you’d brought with you, “have you eaten? i made chicken soup-”

“don’t bother,” her voice cuts through the air like a blade. eyes as piercing as spears, “sit down, i know taehyung has an urgent meeting - it’s the only way to get him off my back.”

you’re not quite sure what she means but you have an inkling that the reason her hostility has yet to reach its pique is because taehyung has been giving her subtle looks to ‘mom, be nice to my wife’.

with a nod and a smile that seems to be glued to your face, you ask, “how was the bibimbap yesterday?”

though she didn’t cut you off, her response doesn’t exactly shed hope to your efforts being paid off when she dismissively says, “i gave it to mr. ji.”

the immediate ‘oh’ that tumbles out of your mouth is purely reflexive even though you know she’s never touched the meals you packed for her. but having her admit it is a different kind of heartbreak.

“i see,” is all you can say as you feel tears prick your waterline, a lump in your throat.

“this,” she places a folder of documents she seems to have ready by her bedside into your hands and without any explanation, sends you off with, “if you have any conscience at all, you’d sign these papers and stay out of our lives.  even though i never read the contract but i’m sure a smart woman such as yourself would’ve thought to include the alimony as well - you understand what i’m saying right?”

you tried to say something - anything but at that point, the look in her eye already paints a picture of you clinging onto taehyung’s wealth. and yet you still tried, “m-mother, i-...”

but no words come out and as though her point had been proven, she’d huffed out a sigh and tuned you out like she always did on your previous visits.

so you walked down the hallway with shades covering your tear stained eyes and a skip to your step that oh-so-badly wishes to break into an unceremonious run to a place where nobody knows you. where nobody looks at you with rounded eyes for the briefest moment that easily translates to mrs. kim ___, wife of kadore’s chairman who married her husband for money.

but all you can afford to do is keep your head up until you reached the bathroom door, check each stall one by one to make sure no one’s inside before you finally set down the document and your handbag on the sink. the first sob hits the air as soon as you see the woman in the reflection’s reddening eyes and smudged makeup.

it takes you several breath-holding, eyes-shutting and a couple more sobs breaking through the cracks of your walls before you can finally pat some powder onto the patch of skin under your eyes and on your cheeks where most of the damage was done. by the time you’re back in the hallway with shades darker than the night sky, you find your feet melting and becoming one with the floor at the sight of a man with jet black hair standing at the reception.

and almost as though sensing the heat of your gaze through your ray bans, the man turns around to reveal a pair of doe brown eyes and the smile you’re so used to seeing now missing in action and replaced with a straight line.

“jungkook...”

“how’d you know i’d be here?” you start once you’ve both placed an order for your drinks at the counter.

“how long are you going to keep doing this?” instead of answering your question with a real answer, jungkook heaves out a sigh, eyebrows knitting together in vexation as he fixes you with one of those ‘i’m not telling mom and dad but this is our problem now’ kind of look.

“how ever long it takes,” is all you say, reverting your gaze to the smooth surface of the table.

“are those the divorce papers?” you refuse to look at him but you know he’s burning holes inside the beige colored folder sitting underneath your handbag on the seat between you and him.

“i don’t know,” you shrug, shoulders squared as you meet his eyes through your shades, “i haven’t opened it yet.”

but jungkook being jungkook, he takes that as a bare affirmation, choosing to interrogate you on a different topic, “have you seen what people have been saying about you?"

“i don’t really care about what people say,” is all you have to offer.

“you haven’t,” he nods in conclusion, “they’re saying you can’t have enough of your husband’s money... they’re saying you’re coming here everyday to grovel over his mother’s feet to let you stay married - that’s how i know you’d be here. and judging from the looks of it, they’re not too far off.”

it takes you a good solid minute to stomach the new found information. you haven’t been checking social media because of those same exact malicious comments but that was just the beginning of a downward spiral of your reputation - you never thought your efforts and hard work of burning your fingers on hot stoves and redoing dishes to get a perfect one would be met with an assumption of groveling over mrs. kim’s feet all for your husband’s money.

“god, i need a smoke,” jungkook huffs, receiving a look from the waiter that’s setting your drinks down. only after she’s gone does he present you with another set of questions. “was he the one that paid off dad’s debts? all of them? even the loan sharks?”

“that...” you nod once, failing to keep your head high as you twirl the straw of your frappe around but don’t even take a sip, “and the money i said i had saved up and lent you to start your company,” you quickly add,“- but taehyung doesn’t care about that - he wouldn’t accept it even if you wanted to pay him back twice the amount.”

“then why are you...” it’s the way his voice breaks at the end that makes you look up only to see a man whose eyes are a little sunken and cheeks a little hollow - almost as if he hasn’t been sleeping nor eating well because of his foolish sister, “why are you letting that woman trample all over you like this? wouldn’t it be easier to just get a divorce-”

“that woman is my mother in law, jungkook. at least, practice the same level of respect you’ve been preaching about,” you speak over him - it’s funny how taehyung once stood up against the same woman you’re standing up for, for you.

when all that follows is silence, you go on. this time, in a much demurred tone, “and it’s not about letting myself get trampled over... if mom found out you lied about something and she’s acting like mother does because she’s hurt, would you just go on with your life like nothing happened?”

it takes a moment for him to register what you said before taking on a much less hostile tone though still just as firm, “___, this is your life... i don’t know what kind of ‘happy family’ delusion you’ve been living in but i’m willing to bet all my money that it’s not taehyung that gave you those papers to sign and made you cry in the bathroom stall for thirty minutes-” he throws you look, “yeah, i saw you go into the washroom after coming out of her room. i was gonna call you but you looked like you had to take a huge dump so i waited but we know that’s not the case now.”

silence lapses between you for the umpteenth time before you stubbornly announce, “i could’ve been taking a dump - you don’t know.”

the sight of jungkook’s jaw dropping and hitting the ground is laughable, if not for the fact that he’s shaking his head five seconds later. vexed. irritated, “this is getting ridiculous - we’re going home. now.”

and he doesn’t mean the penthouse that you and taehyung shares.

shooting up, his hand grasps your wrist and he would have dragged you all the way to the car if you hadn’t protested.

“jungkook, no - i’m not going anywhere,” pulling your hand back, you stand a good one head shorter in front of your brother which doesn’t do much for your cause.

“___, if not for you then do it for mom and dad - they’re getting too old to be worrying about their one and only daughter’s marriage prospect,” he tries to coax, knowing full well your heart would wither like a flower at the mention of your parents worrisome nature - especially when your business is out in the open no matter how hard you try to hide it, “and you haven’t been answering their calls either.”

“i know, i just-” before you can even finish your sentence, a flash of garnet and bridal pink catches your eyes.

“____... jungkook, i didn’t think you’d be in korea. how are you?” taehyung’s warm baritone is laced with confusion as he stares at your brother and then at you for a sort of explanation but before you can even open your mouth, jungkook’s already has his hand wrapped tightly around your wrist, “yeah, well someone’s gotta clean up the mess you started. ___’s coming back home with me - back to her real home.”

“i’m not - stop saying that and let me go,” you tug on your wrist only to wince at the pressure of his grasp, “jungkook, you’re hurting me!”

“hey, let my wife go,” taehyung takes a peaceful step forward, “we can talk ab-”

“oh no,” the laugh tumbling out of jungkook’s mouth drips with malice, “no, see, you lost your knight in shining armor privilege after you quite literally lied to our faces about how you’ll take care of my sister until ‘death do you apart’ when all it took was mommy dearest pretending to get sick while everyone labels my sister a gold-digging wh-”

you taking a step forward with a balled fist, is completely instinctive and you would say taehyung prancing towards the dark haired man with a fist that actually hits the mark, was also instinct-driven. except that he probably has better aim and his punches hurt more than yours ever would.

the first one, you admit was satisfying but when your brother ends up on the ground with your husband throwing blow after blow, you have no choice but to intervene.

“taehyung, stop!” the shriek that echoes against the walls almost burst your eardrums. you would have believed it to be mrs. kim if not for the fact that she’s nowhere in sight and you’re the one with your hands grasping onto your husband’s arms, trying to hold him back from sending blow after blow onto your brother’s half-conscious face.

“taehyung, don’t stop,” you frown, taking a seat next to him while swiping the ice bag off his lap before gently pressing it to his darkened jawline, “seokjin said to keep the ice on the bruise for at least an hour.”

“ahhh - ow - ow-!” the man whines, eyes screwed shut as his grits his teeth together but doesn’t recoil from your touch.

“maybe you should’ve thought twice about throwing a punch at a trained boxer,” you shake your head, lips curling into an inevitable smile.

after taehyung’s had a round of punches in, jungkook managed to flip them over so that he’s the one pinning the elder man down. the events that unfolded after that were the least bit pretty. the nurses and doctors attending nearby patients rushed to the two struggling men and then there’s you, shifting the shouting to your brother to “god damn it, jungkook! stop being a dick!”

it took five men - doctors and just-arrived guards alike - to pry your brother off your husband who still tried to get a punch in and was held back by seokjin who finally arrived at the scenes with half a mind to knock the both of them out as he calmly orders for jungkook to be dragged into one of those empty rooms akin to the one mrs. kim is staying at.

because taehyung was the one who started the fight, seokjin decided that an ice pack would do for the taller man whilst he treats jungkook and orders the other doctors to go back to their post.

picking up the mixture of garnet and bridal pink roses, he stares at their wilted petals for the longest moment, face painted with dejection. they must have been specifically ordered for mrs. kim-

“these are for you,” your train of thoughts halts in its track at taehyung’s words. his hand levitating midair as though unsure of whether to hand the bouquet to you or toss them away, “or were,” then he captures your gaze and you don’t think you can ever find your way out of the maze he’s able to hold you captive in with just his eyes, “you deserve fresh flowers specifically plucked from its stalk - you deserve a whole garden, actually-”

“taehyung,” your free hand covers his as if to say, “they’re lovely, thank you.” placing the ice pack down, you cup both hands around the flowers, bringing them to your nose, “and they smell wonderful - i love pink roses.”

“i know,” the tiniest smile peeks from his lips, “you told me that.”

“i did?” you blink, surprised.

“at our wedding reception, you got a little tipsy and started sobbing because the roses were blush pink and not bridal pink,” the sound of his chuckles drums in your ears like hymns just like it did a year ago.

back when you were decked in an elegant off shoulder white gown after changing out of your wedding dress. you’d stood in the sidelines while your families and friends danced to their hearts’ content to the sound of the music. white champagne in your hand, the background beginning to turn fuzzy and your thoughts began to get louder.

it didn’t help that the object of your frustrations was smack dab covering every inch of the vicinity from the gargantuan rose covered backdrop, to the tiny vases in every single table.

the sob hits the air like the first raindrop. you had to clasp your hand to your mouth as if you were about to cough to hide your mouth stretching into your crying mouth - you don’t know how to explain it but your lips tend to morph into an unshapely sight whenever you cry and covering it when you feel the waterworks coming has always been second nature. as for the tears - they were concealable because the lights were dim enough.

but then there was someone next to you - he just popped up out of nowhere really and because you were standing in the darkest corner, you couldn’t pick out any defining features besides his height but you didn’t have much time to ponder on that as his question fills your eardrums, “so, how does saying goodbye to the bachelorette life feels like?”

“it’s terrible,” you’d wept some more and he shifted on his feet slightly, as though noticing the tear in your voice but luckily for him, he didn’t even have to ask because you were spilling your innermost thoughts out loud, “they- they gave me blush pink and garnet roses- i want bridal pink and garnet roses.”

“oh,” distinctively rang in your ears among the sound of instruments and joyful laughter.

then comes another input, “i didn’t know they messed up your request,” and you didn’t know why he’d sounded like he was about to murder someone.

“yeah and,” you sniffle, “- and i didn’t wanna say anything because- because i don’t wanna be that bratty bride who picks on every little detail.”

that morning, you woke up to a box full of roses and they were the lightest shade of pink. taehyung was already awake and offered to ring up breakfast for the both of you after he’d bid you a good morning and a “something came in for you.”

the gifts were prearranged to be sent to the penthouse instead of your suite but then again, there were chocolates and champagne bottles that made past the hotel doors because of its edible nature - the roses too... their fleeting livelihood seemed like you’d enjoy them better in your hotel room than a week later after you’d come back from your honeymoon.

the card didn’t even leave initials but had ‘roses for a rose’ playfully written in cursive black ink. your heart blooms a garden but your head is what makes you search for your newly wed husband, only to see him looking at you with a tender smile - one that you thought manifested because of your own involuntary smile when you’d read the note.

“i don’t think these are for us,” you could feel the frown setting into your features, causing taehyung’s own brows to furrow.

“i think these are for... me,” and so you told a tale of a woman with ambitions rather than stars in her eyes, who felt a compulsion to at least tell the truth to her husband and the stranger whom she met at her wedding. of course, omitting the teary eyed part and the blush and bridal pink roses part.

taehyung had easily chuckled while the staff set down plates of delicacies on the round meant-for-two-people-on-a-honeymoon table, saying, “he has fine taste - they’re from halls & tara,” after the staff left.

it didn’t occur to you that the h&t initials on the top right corner of the card stood for the most well known florist in seoul until he’d pointed it out, which could only mean he’d been suspicious enough to take longer than a glance at the flowers.

“do you mind if i keep them? at least, until they’re not as fresh anymore.” you quickly added the last part.

“you can keep them in a vase and have them live longer... why? are they not the shade of pink you wanted?” he blinked once, hand halting midair as he was about to take a mouthful of pancakes.

“well- no, they’re perfect actually - i love them,” you almost stutter in your haste to explain while trying to be casual about how devastated you would be if- “it’s just that... i really didn’t know him or who he was- but he obviously knew me because it’s hard not to know the lady of the day- i’m not breaching any terms-”

it’s the way the trickles of laughter filling the otherwise silent room that got you to clamp your mouth shut. the way kim taehyung looked so ethereal and majestic in the pristine black and white setting of the room.

“i don’t mind,” he’d clarified a moment later, eyes twinkling with the remnants of laughter, “i understand why he’d want to desperately send you these if only to see you smile softly like you did - you look beautiful when you smile, by the way.”

the compliment had caught you off guard and your heart might or might not have somersaulted but if there’s anything seven years of becoming a stewardess has taught you, it was to always prepare an adequate response to every situation - and at that time, kim taehyung was infamous for his quick wits and reputation with the ladies. of course, words sweet as honey would come easy for him.

“thank you,” and so were the words of gratitude on your part as you schooled a smile and dug into the pancakes your husband made.

but sitting on the black leather couch, holding onto a similar colored bouquet, you can’t help but blurt out, “that was you? i was bawling my eyes out because of some mismanagement to my husband who didn’t even recognize?” something between a disbelieving scoff and an irony-induced laugh escapes your mouth, “why didn’t you tell me?”

taehyung’s shoulder line shakes as he shrugs, hand going up to scratch the back of his head as he drops his gaze, as if searching for the answer only to look back up into your eyes with a, “i didn’t think you’d be as happy if you knew it was me,” his gaze falters, like a bud of fear blooming behind his irises,

“why wouldn’t i be?” you blink once, not quite understanding where he’s coming from.

that is, until a small smile slips onto his lips and it’s heartbreaking to witness and even more devastating to know you’re in no place to let your arms gather him into a hug like you wish. to kiss his forehead until his worries disappear.

he twines his fingers with yours, thumbing the diamond on your fourth finger, “i’m sorry that i took away your choice to marry for love - that’s a bit corny isn’t it?” he scrunches his nose and you can’t help but giggle, “it’s not just some short term contract since we both agreed divorce is never in the equation,” neither of you believe in tainting the sanctity of marriage - no matter what cause it was founded upon - with separation, “but god, the things you’re going through right now - i promise i’ll make things right.”

taehyung’s eyes tend to appear in different shades along with his emotions - though you know it’s most probably the lighting. dark brown is for when he’s scrutinizing the hollow smiles and empty compliments he gets at functions. but sometimes you find yourself catching hazel.

like right now, as they capture yours and look at you as if you’re the only one he sees.

“taehyung...” you thought you knew what you wanted to say when you said his name but as you get lost in the midnight dessert of his eyes, you’re not sure if you can even muster so much as a squeak without falling apart.

and that’s when a knock reverberates into the air like thunder, forcing you to jolt away from the man until no part of you is touching any part of him.

“hey,” a somber voice greets as jungkook leans against the doorframe, “so they fixed me up and the chairman wants me gone in,” he looks down at his wrist, “two minutes and fifty-three seconds.”

blinking away the remnants of the emotions away, you stand up, giving the man a once over. his button up is marred with a trickle of deep red a few inches over his chest, hair matted and face sporting different stages of bruising. the bleeding’s stopped for the most part.

“you’ve definitely seen better days,” you announce, walking around the couch to get to where the man is rolling his eyes at.

“sorry for calling you the w-word,” that’s definitely wasn’t what you were expecting which prompts the belated, almost suspicion induced,“...okay.”

“i did that because i needed to confirm something,” he goes on, eyes flitting over your shoulder where you know your husband is staring right back, burning holes inside your brother’s head before he looks back at you, taking a full 180 in attiude, “and don’t worry about mom and dad - i’ll take care of them.”

it takes you a moment to digest his proclamation, all the whilst hyperly aware of the hand that makes its way on your lower back as a familiar dior scent fills your senses, “so you’re not gonna drag me home?” as though disbelieving the words that came out of your mouth, you add, “that’s all it takes? a few punches to the face?”

the twitch of his eyebrow doesn’t go unnoticed by you. nor does the deep breath he forces himself to take at the blatant insult and insinuation of your future boxing lessons to which he warns, “don’t get any crazy ideas,” then he turns to the man next to you, “i let you hit me - let’s get that out of the way first.”

and before either you or taehyung manage to get a word in, jungkook hand comes flying to your forehead, a loud sound of skin smacking against skin echoing throughout the room as you tumble backwards with an audible “ow- hey!”, barely noticing the much larger hand that’s covering yours. inspecting the patch of skin where jungkook just flicked.

without even an apology for the uncalled for assault, he nods at something over your head, probably taehyung, “you take care of my sister, you hear me? cause there won’t be a second time.”

and then he’s gone like the wind - you would have tracked down that wind and give him a taste of his own medicine like you did when you were children. you’d jump on his back and attempt to bite a chunk of his head if your nannies didn’t pull you apart  - but right now, you couldn’t escape taehyung’s hand on your waist even if you wanted to.

“let me see,” he instructs, gently coaxing your hand to unclasp the patch of skin on your forehead so he could softly blow on it.

you stay like that, standing at the doorway with your bodies too close and taehyung refusing to unhand you until your cheeks are replaced with a different kind of heat than the anger you felt for your god forsaken brother.

“god he’s an ass - you should’ve messed up his face more,” you huff, and you don’t know why - maybe it’s the way you stomp your foot, maybe it’s the way your cheeks tend to puff when you’re feeling vindictive or maybe it’s a mystery locked in taehyung’s head that you’ll never know but his chuckles sound like hymns in your ears.

and you thought that was the end of the electrified sensation on your skin where his touch lingers until you feel a pair of the softest lips on your forehead, right where the flick was supposed to throb. a grinning taehyung looking back at you as if asking, “my nanny used to do this to me when i bump my knee against a furniture...” a flash of worry blooms in his eyes for the briefest moment before he voices his concerns, “hope the magic still works.

the sight is heartwarming. endearing even. and you can’t help smile, cheeks hot, “it does - it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

and just as you thought he’s about to release you from the torment of having your heart skip multiple beats at a time and step back, he presses another peck on your forehead. a smile gracing his features, “another one for good measure.”

it’s a surprise your legs are still holding you up with how jelly-like they’ve become.

“th-thank you.”

mrs. kim discharged herself a week after the fight but not without standing in front of the hospital with her frilly fur coat and gucci handbag while she looks at the camera and consequently straight into the screen, “i have yet received a publicly apology for what jeon jungkook did to mine by the jeons. my taehyung couldn’t even kill a fly, let alone start a fist fight-” she shivers uncontrollably as though overcome with chills, “such a barbaric, uncivilized act can only come from-”

“you’re watching that?” a smooth baritone fills the room as a figure struts in beige slacks and oversized creme sweater, “again?”

he sits on the edge the backrest of the couch, looking down at you with an expression that makes your stomach churn. with butterflies or guilt for breaking your promise to stop checking out these articles, you don’t know.

“sorry,” you mumble, placing the ipad down a few inches from your feet as you bring your legs up against your chest, arms wrapped tightly around them, “worrying about how the press twists mother’s words comes from the plentiful of time i have on my hands after being sacked, i guess.”

it’s been a week since you’ve received your new schedule. to which you received a call right after to head to the headquarters in the heart of seoul only to be told that-

“___, you gotta understand, this whole fiasco going on with your family... it’s giving the airline a bad rep,” mr. bang leaned back against his recliner, his eyes hiding behind the beam of his glasses, “people are leaving bad reviews on the website that has absolutely nothing to do with our services but has everything to do with you and your husband.”

he meant the growing dissatisfaction upon the revelation of the artificiality of you and taehyung’s marriage.

nobody’s caught jungkook and taehyung in a video but there’d been witnesses and ‘sources’ affirming the two getting into a fistfight at the hospital. and so another record has been made in your long list of family drama.

“sir, please,” you could feel your eyebrows joining together from the sheer frustration and reality anchoring into the pit of your stomach, “i’ve been working for korean air -for seven years now- check my reconds,” hope blooms in your chest as you suggest the idea to your superior, “i’ve never been late, never had a customer complain about me, never made any mistakes prior to this-”

“it doesn’t matter what you did before this, ___,” he cut you off, voice heavy with emphasis.

but you weren’t backing out that easy, “please, it’s not fair to lay me off for something i have zero control in.”

at your wording, the man physically flinched, almost as though struck by a spear before he shook his head, denying your claims.

“you’re not fired,” he corrected, “you’re on paid leave... until everything calms down.”

it took everything in you not to let the frown slip onto your face. first it’s paid leave and then it a one month notice before they officially sack you - you’ve seen how this played out one too many times.

so you smiled, “with all due respect, mr. bang, how long is ‘until everything calms down’?”

the man’s shoulder line jolted as he shrugged, lower lip jutted out in a nonchalant nature, “that depends on how you choose to solve it, ___... i assume you are working on a solution, yes?”

it was a trick question. if you answered the affirmative, it’d be admitting what mrs. kim and almost everyone have been demanding - a divorce. if you answered no, then you’re as good as jobless.

“my husband and i are working on it,”  was all you say.

when taehyung found out later that night - he was livid. he was a phone call away from calling up mr. ji to sue the airline for discrimination. it took you stealing his phone away and running around the penthouse until you made him promise that he’d listen to you first.

he did, and you’d wanted to wait it out and see because, “there isn’t any damage to build our ground on anyway because i’m not fired yet.”

“well, dinner’s ready ” taehyung’s soft as silk voice tears you apart from your memroies, hand levitating midair until you take it, hoisting yourself up.

taehyung pushes himself off the couch, walking on the other side with your hand in his. it’s comical but endearing all at once and you giggle at how neither of you are willing to let the other go even though you’ll have to once you reach the four-people dining table.

“thank you,” you say as you lower yourself on the seat while he pushes the chair in for you.

home cooked meals have become a norm for the both of you ever since that day taehyung punched jungkook in the face. at first, you insisted that you should be the one cooking since he was injured but he stayed with you in the kitchen and you talked about your day and reminisced about your childhood and how you similarly had nannies that forbade you from coming into the kitchen.

then there was the peck on the top of your forehead he started doing a few days ago after you were sat and before he went around the table to get to his seat that’s across from you.

“did you go shopping today?” he asks in between cutting up the steak which he stole a whole plate from you into mini slices.

“yeah, with hwasa,” you nod - the woman had been all too delighted to see you after mismatched schedules and ghostly texts because of life and work getting in the way.

“the friend from high school?” taehyung surprises you yet again as he places your plate back in front of you, this time with the pieces all cut into edible bites. you’ve never mentioned hwasa to him - but it’s not a lie that she’s your closest friend from high school who got accepted into the same training programme as you at the beginning of your career.

“thank you-” you shoot him a smile before picking up the fork and knife, “and yeah, that’s her. we haven’t seen each other for months so we kind of went a little crazy with the dresses.”

he doesn’t look up when he speaks his next words which is why you have a trouble digesting them as you involuntarily blurt out a, “sorry- what?”

“the dresses you bought,” he reiterates, an amused smile on his lips - possibly because of your almost-choked state, “- can i see them?”

“oh,” clear your throat once, sipping down the red wine before chuckling nervously, “hwasa bought dresses - didn’t.”

taehyung hums, head tilting to the side as though trying to capture your avoidant gaze, “then put on whatever you bought that i saw lying on your bed - the door was open when i passed your room.”

at that moment, to say your heart quite literally crash against the floor, would be an understatement. it takes you a minute to gather yourself, another to force out a laugh as you attempt to brush the thought of taehyung seeing the black and red laces from savage x fenty hwasa adamantly insited you get after a story time on why you decided to get married to how something has definitely shifted between you and taehyung.

but no amount of gushing and squealing about made up scenarios brewing from hwasa’s little head could prepare you for what’s happening right at this moment.

“oh those?” a chuckle, “those are aren’t even worth showing.”

and just as you thought he’ll let the matter go like he would when you dismissively mention something that he inquired about, taehyung takes a full 180, eyes clouded with a sort of emotion you don’t dare delve into, “that’s for me to decide,” he takes a sip of the wine, pushing his chair back as he stands up, “i’m done,” with that, he places his plate down where geom, your mixed breen papillion and silky terrier shouts out an appreciative woof at the pleasant surprise.

patting the canine briefly, he turns to you, those clouded eyes seeping into your soul, “put them on - i’ll be waiting in my room.”

his footsteps echo against the walls as he ascends the stairs and disappears into the hallway where his room lies across from yours. it is a whole solid minute later, once you hear the door of his room click shut, that you make a beeline for the couch where your phone lies lonely.

dialing up the only person you know you can hold accountable for, you quite literally scream at the ‘hell-’ with a “hwasa, he wants me to put the lingerie on and show him!”

while your voice drips with dread, the other woman, choosing to be willfully oblivious, screams into your ears, “oh my god - oh my god. then what are you doing calling me?! go put them on!”

and that’s how you end up holding in a breath while deliberately repeating hwasa’s not so helpful pep talk of ‘you’re the hottest’ and ‘kim taehyung will be wrapped around your fingers by the end of the night!’

“but it’s been over a year - i’m not sure if i even know how to moan!” you’d protested while pull the strap of the garter around your thigh.

that was half an hour ago.

now, you’re debating on whether to knock like you would have before you started cuddling into the other while watching tv. but before that, you’d never did anything together unless it was family dinners and gatherings.

so you opt for pushing down the handle. the sharp ‘click’ being the only announcement of your entrance. taehyung’s walls are a deep shade of maroon almost black with the lights on its lowest setting. the sound of music playing in the background barely registers in your mind as you focus your attention to the figure that’s pushing himself up from his laying down position.

you resist the temptation to run and hide under the comfort your covers - an opposed response compared to your confident stride, placing one foot after the other until you stand a good two feet away from the bed and taehyung.

“what do you think?” the smile brandished over your face is nothing like your racing heart whlist you do a little twirl- but then again, you’ve always been such an actress.

“if the world were made of diamonds, i’d choose the rose before me... because you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever laid eyes on,” you wonder how he doesn’t even blink as those words pour out of his mouth, hand finding its way in the dip of your waist. staring. admiring.

“always the charmer,” you want to curse yourself for the unoriginal come back yet taehyung doesn’t seem to notice as he lets you push him to the bed whilst his eyes undress what little piece of clothing you have on as you crawl on top of him.

your toes curl at the sound of taehyung’s excruciatingly slow exhalation - almost as though he intends for it to caress your ears and seep into your pores before settling into the pit of your core.

the sharp charm of dior fills your senses as you place kisses on his neck, tucking his flesh between your teeth ever so gently, not expecting the delectable surprise that slips out of his mouth.

who would have thought kim taehyung was a moaner?

the giggle that trickles out of your mouth is blamelessly involuntary but catches his attention nonetheless, “what?”

“oh, nothing,” you nibble on his earlobe before whispering into his ears, “just thinking of how cute you’ll look moaning for me.”

and you’ve easily add to the long list of things you won’t forgive yourself in the morning. yet you still caress his growing size through his pants, giggling when the delicious sound hits the air for the second time.

“take it out,” he whimpers after one too many teases, “please.”

“only because you said please,” the way his chin tilts to follow your lips after you pecked them doesn’t go unnoticed by you but you clasp your hand against his chest, pinning him down with a shake of your head “uh-uh, you get up when i tell you to.”

the excruciating ‘fuck’ that leaves his lips is what truly lights up the flame in the pit of your stomach. you watch as his hand goes up to run through his hair in a sexually frustrated nature but doesn’t attempt to push himself up after that.

it only takes a few pumps for the clear fluid of precum to trickle over your hand, letting you smear all over his hardened dick and causing it to glisten underneath the luminescence of the room.

sparks shoot through your core and strike your heart into an erratic rhythm when you lower yourself over him, holding the slit of the black lace undergarment apart until he’s hitting every delicious inch inside of you.

you’ve barely even started to move when you break out into a cry, falling into his arms like a puppet whose strings got cut off. the arms around you are gentle as they hold you against him until you’ve come down from your high.

by the time you push yourself up, your knees are still trembling yet you nod when he cups your cheeks and forces you to look into those concern filled eyes, “are you good?”

“i’m fine,” the sniffle is probably the last thing you need to convince him, “i lost myself for a moment.”

this time, it’s his turn to chuckle, lips curling into a smirk, “it’s completely understandable to admit that you couldn’t hold out for more than a minute because i stretched you out so good.”

you want to protest - want to gain back the control you lost when he hit that sweet spot not even, yes, as he says, a minute into taking him in. but one single thrust right against that same exact spot and you’re whimpering in utter submission and devotion.

“that’s what i thought,” that damned smirk is the last thing you see before you succumb to his every wishes and command until you find yourself with a strong arm banded over your stomach, another arm reaching for a pillow and puffing it up before you feel yourself being gently lowered face flushed into it - the smallest gesture of tenderness that you didn’t expect to witness when you decided to tease him in the beginning.

the yelp when taehyung’s hands slip under the strap of the garter, doesn’t even manage to form fully when a moan replaces it as he yanks the garter and consequently, your ass against him, forcing you to swallow his entire length in one stroke.

“god, you’re so big,” if you were a little sober and a whole lot more conscious, you would have added that into the list of things you said that you would cringe at in the morning.

but you’re already one orgasm down in the foreseeable long list of orgasms that kim taehyung promises you as he sinks into you, moaning out your name like a holy mantra.

“i know you love it,” he agrees oh so innocently for someone who’s about to thrust into you like a godless being.

five strokes in and you’re cursing and screaming out in pleasure, hands gripping onto the duvet for dear life as you feel you convulse into a state of toe-curling euphoria. the way taehyung stops moving and trails down butterfly kisses down your back until the tensed muscles in your lower abdomen simmers down into pleasured twitches, doesn’t go by you.

“you can move now,” another sniffle, but this one has completely and irrevocably succumbed to your rawest desires.

it’s the soft chuckle and the one last peck on your left shoulder blade that has your heart stuttering. ungodly opposite to the way he moves his hips as he thrusts into you without so much as a warning - your last two orgasms were just preambles. ones out of the many that night that has you writhing and moaning in pleasure. some of which were incited by sides of you, you didn’t know existed.

the last thing you recall is taehyung gathering you in his arms like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you even in his sleep now that he’s had a taste. it’s endearing and daunting all at once. because for the first time since your marriage, you’re afraid of losing him.

a few days after that, you’re tying away on your macbook when taehyung comes home looking less like the man you knew. his hair, disheveled from having run his hand through them more than his hair gel allows. his eyes, carrying a sort of weight that latches onto him like parasites - or maybe that’s just the papparazzo that you noticed have been following you around. their numbers have decreased considerably after the rumor of taehyung hiring a team of lawyers which was no rumor at all.

it was the morning after you woke up with tingly legs barely able to function like it should and muscles sore but a sort of fullness in your chest when you noticed the man whose arms are wraped around you like a protective cocoon as he faintly snored away.

then came the muted sound of your phone from the other side of the hallway where your room door beckons you into its domain. it wasn’t as obnoxiously loud since it was at least twenty feet away and you would have ignored it and gone back to bed if not for the short interval signaling the person calling had finally reached the mailbox or hung up on their own. that was, before they hit call for the second time.

slipping out of taehyung’s arms, you trudged to your room with half a mind to give whoever this caller is a piece of your mind - god’s sake, the flashy red digits on your alarm clock stares at you at 5:23 in the morning.

“this better be good, hwasa or i swear-” before you can even finish the woman is already screaming into your ear like she’s being chased by an axe murderer.

“oh my god, oh my god - have you seen the news?!” except no woman chased by a murderer would sound this exhilarated, she went on before you could even get a “no one in their right mind would be checking the news at ass crack-” out.

“oh shoot, it’s still 5 something in korea, isn’t it?” she gasped - if you weren’t on paid leave, you’d be in hong kong, probably sharing rooms and getting tipsy in some club there, “but anyway, kadore’s chairman is suing insight, pullbbang and other websites for slander!” she shrieked.

"what?” you could feel the muscles on your face pulling into a contorted confusion but

after hanging up and telling hwasa you were going to look into the matter some more, you’d come up with multiple articles stating a similar fact as your overly enthusiastic best friend did. still in denial, you’d confronted your husband about it- he was still sleeping soundly when you strutted in and shook him up to which he confessed, eyes droopy and face puffy. the sight was so foreign to you because you were used to seeing him fresh and suited up but you’d found yourself making a little space in your heart for barely-just-woken-up-taehyung to reside in.

first came anger - you didn’t ask for him to do this, “what would everyone think if i went to you crying about a little bit of criticism for something i did do?” then came confusion because what exactly did you do that was so horrendously heineous to warrant these websites to write such malicious statements about you?

taehyung had seen every flash of emotions that pooled in your eyes and tugged on your fingers - you weren’t sure if he’d meant it but it successfully pulled you from drowning in your own thoughts, “i told you i’d make things right - these people won’t be able to say another word about you unless it’s the truth- that you’re a hardworking, amazing woman who deserves everything she has and yes,” he fixed you the most tender, sleepy smile “that includes the money i make - what’s the point of working if i can’t even provide my wife with the best?”

taehyung tosses the beige tuxedo onto the handrest of the couch adjacent to where you’re sitting with one leg up in nothing but a loose fitted sweater that hangs off your left shoulder. the half empty wine glass lies untouched on the coffee table since you’d put it down.

with a thump, he sinks himself into the leather material of the couch, hands cupping his face, as though if he rubs it hard enough, the deadset frown would go away.

before you know it, you’re padding over to the couch he’s on, hands finding their ways onto his shoulders, massaging the noticeable tension in his muscles until a grateful sigh slips out of his mouth, hand guiding your own to his lips where he presses a kiss on your knuckles.

only when you go around to take the spot next to him, hand smoothing out his hair, do you finally say, “is it the board again?”

mina has been keeping you updated on the turbulence that was caused by your fraudulent marriage being exposed. the chairman seat became taehyung by default when he got married as per his father’s will. but the board members have been vocal about abrogating his rights to succeeding kadore.

“there’s talk about votes demoting me to director,” he’s never sound so fragile - in taehyung’s long list of fluctuating interest from women and men to art and sculptures and to yatches and sports cars, kadore is probably the only thing he’s ever taken seriously.

you would know - seeing him decked in armani with soft wavy hair contrasting his strong features, weren’t your only reason for accepting his proposal of marriage. it had more to do with the way he spoke about the company. in a dimly lit room just like now, with a wine glass in his hand and the cityscape underneath that gave an illusion of stilled fireflies scattered all across the city, taehyung had spoken of his unforgivable regrets. the deals he’d let pass by. the merges he’d settled with instead of aiming higher. the brands he didn’t reach out to.

those regrets birthed fears and those fears were what made him even entertain the notion of a beneficial marriage.

or as the board likes to call it, an atrociously wickedly schemed marriage.

“they won’t have a ground to depose you to a director’s position if they can’t provide a solid reason,” you say and he blinks, clueless, hopeless.

it’s almost as if you’re facing a whole different man.

“what do you mean?”

“i’m talking about us doing what we do best,” you fix him a smile - one that probably needs a little convincing and grounding but a smile nonetheless, “we show them that the kims aren’t to be messed with,” you pause, letting the silence settle into brimming suspense before finally saying, “it’s been awhile since we’ve made a public appearance together, hasn’t it? how does lunch sound like?”

and so goes your multiple appearances in the most top notch restaurant together. the lack of chauffeur wasn’t intentional but helpful nonetheless to prove that the chairman was hopeless and irrevocably mad for his wife that he’d drive all the way to wherever she was to pick her up and then drive them to the designated restaurant instead of the convenience of meeting at said restaurant from wherever you both were prior to that.

then there was the hand holding, hip grabbing and not going a minute without smiling and giggling about what the other said. to outsiders, it would have looked as if things hadn’t been all that different - except you’d finally came out of your 1 billion doller cave after the whole ‘fiasco’ with your families. but it was the little hand kisses and forehead pecks in between taehyung making mini runs to get to your side to open your car door.

and the ‘how was your day’s and which are followed by a ‘you’re still deadset on working, huh?’s each time you told him about your in-the-work resume since you’re ‘at the risk of getting a notice of resignation any time soon’.

“what if you started your own business? i could buy a whole building in nonhyeon-dong that you could make as your headquarters?” he offers in between twirling the pasta around his fork after you insisted that- “my job is the only thing that i’ve got going on for me to prove that i’m not a gold-digger that everyone thinks i am.”

“i was thinking more like travelling from place to place like...” you shoot him a ‘you know’ smile before adding, “a cabin crew.”

“one of korean air’s biggest shareholders are letting go of her stock because her color pencil business isn’t doing so well these days,” he nods, deeply contemplative, “they’re gonna be sacking a few employees if they don’t get buyers by the next two months,” he surmises with a concluding nod to which you end up laughing and almost choking on your food.

picking up the water on your right, you quickly gulp it down before clarifying as to why you found his statement so funny that you’d risk your esophagus in the process, “no, tae,” that nickname is also one of the little things that just happens - you don’t miss the tuck in the corners of his lips when it slips off your tongue, “it’s sweet of you to want to buy me a share of the airline i’m working for but that’s the thing, it’s your money,” you reach out for his hand, smiling when he meets yours halfway.

a warm pressure engulfs your hand as he squeezes briefly, “and i told you, what’s mine is yours.”

“likewise,” you fix him a grateful smile, “but i like flying. i like being a cabin crew - on top of holding onto my job to prove people wrong, of course.”

the longest pause hovers over you like a grey clouds with taehyung’s beautiful but contemplating eyes holding you captive. as though trying to take you out part by part, trying to figure you out.

“then, what would you like me to do?” the question catches you off guard, like being hit by a wild baseball even though you’re walking right next to a baseball field, “you’ve always been so good at taking care of yourself - when you broke down in front of me... at the hospital... i didn’t know what to do-” his lips quiver just the slightest bit, almost as though holding back invisible tears, “tell me what to do. because it feels like everything i do isn’t the slightest bit helpful. ”

all of a sudden, the sands of time seem to have stopped, levitating midair within the dip of the hourglass. it’s daunting but heartbreaking at the same time - the sight of raw fear and uncertainty that’s pooling within taehyung’d eyes like unmoving river - you never knew your attempts to hold up your values reflects as a declaration of nonessential to taehyung’s own attempts to reach out to you.

“i don’t need you - to fight my battles, to solve my problems for me - though i’m immensely grateful that you did,” you say after what feels like an eternity, “but i want you so... stay as you are, supporting me like you’re doing now.”

“i don’t know if that counts as support - i’m not doing anything,” he counters, eyes downcasted until you reach out your other hand to cover his that’s already holding your left hand.

“you are - you never invalidated my feelings of wanting to work, you encouraged me to do bigger things and that means you believe in me - maybe i will take up that offer in the future but right now, i want to keep doing what i always have been,” you fix him a smile, “and i want to do it with you by my side.”

the tiniest of smile that slips onto his face tells you that his heart is still in a state of unrest. unconvinced. but he’s trying as he nods, “if that’s what you want,” and you thought that’s the end of it. until the foreshadowing “but,” that comes a second later, “i’m not gonna stop worrying and trying to fix things - we’re married, your problems are my problems too.”

the chuckle escapes your mouth signifies the good natured jest of your next words as you summon your hands back, already missing the warmth of his much larger ones around you, “well we weren’t exactly on that term until just recently.”

a shadow casts itself over taehyung’s handsome face as he picks up his fork, “that’s something i’ll regret for the rest of my life - not getting to know you beyond the contract sooner.”

“everyone makes mistakes,” you shrug before taking a peek at his expression as you mention a certain free spirited woman, “besides, you were too caught up with jeongyeon on our first year of marriage.”

she had been one of the few people who’d managed to bring out a side of taehyung you never knew existed.

boyish. bratty. someone who actually bicker and whines about the littlest things and everything that was on the opposite spectrum the crisp, suit-wearing, slicked back hair, charming man you married. sometimes, when you go out to dinners or the little moments when you find yourselves alone while attending functions, you see glimpses of that playful, boyish side of him. the human side of him.

over time, you realize that that’s also part of what makes taehyung... well, taehyung. it’s just only recently that you start seeing more than glimpses of these sides behind closed doors.

the way his eyes widen is enough for you to know that you’ve hit the nail right on its head. if the incomprehensible stuttering isn’t, “that... i was... we didn’t-”

“i know,” you fix him a jesting smile, “you may be a certified charmer for the most part but you’re not a homewrecker, tae.”

lunch goes on with you talking about how your father and brother are thrilled to have you and taehyung over for your monthly dinner. to which the man was partly confused and partly shivered in his seat at the thought of sitting down at a table with two of your favorite men in the world no doubt shooting him daggers while you’re not watching - or pretend that you don’t notice.

“i can’t avoid father forever,” he laments, finally giving into his fate as you walk out the restaurant, “and i have a lot of owning up to do to your family.”

“as do i,” you hum in agreement once before murmuring a ‘thank you’ as he holds the car door open after tipping the valet.

it’s only five minutes into the ride, once the car rolls to a stop at a red light does he turn to you, “you know, you don’t have to... with mom, reconciliation is a two way thing and she...” you notice the way his grip tightens around the wheel, eyes darkening as he breathes in, grounding himself “- she even made you file for divorce.”

the papers she’d given you that day still lied in your drawer, hidden away from taehyung’s pyromaniac hands. you’d caught him almost setting them on fire when you he found it lying on the counter after he’d returned home. all because spent a good chunk of the afternoon staring at it before leaving it to take a hot bath, not realizing taehyung would be home any time soon. ever since then, he hadn’t been on speaking terms with mrs. kim. turned down offers for dinners and luncheons, as he had directly told her in front of you through a phone call, “...not until you apologize to ___ first.”

“tae, mother was hurt by our lies and i understand why, i can’t promise i’ll be as accepting if i found out the daughter-in-law i cherished so much didn’t marry my son for love like i thought they did,” you lightly pat his hand that’s on the gear but instead he captures your fingers between his and guide them to his lips as he traps you within those beautiful eyes.

“you’re too kind for your own good, you know that?” there they are again, hazel underneath the light. but clouded with a sort of emotion you can’t pinpoint.

but before you can even muster a word, his eyes are already focused on the road as the car propels itself forward. but he doesn’t let go of your hand. he keeps it twined with his between yours and the gear. almost as if he didn’t want to be apart from you if he could help it. and neither could did you as you rub tiny motions into the back of his hand.

in your defense, you’ve stolen a precious gem from her that no money or gold could ever replace. and no matter how much you cherish the bond that formed after hours spent on shopping, tea times and mother-daughter (in-law) vacations, you’re not kind enough to unwrap him from your little fingers.

a smile curls on your lips as you guide taehyung’s hand to yours, placing a kiss on his knuckles and watching as his own lips tuck at the corners.

you’ll just have to make it up to mother some other way.

x

note. if you enjoy this then please leave a comment either below or in my inbox! and check out the other members’ installments to the series filed under ‘verse’ on top!

#bts smut #taehyung smut #bts scenarios #taehyung scenarios #v smut #taehyung x reader #bts fic #bts x reader #bts x you #taehyung fic #bts fanfic #taehyung fanfic #taehyung x you #taehyung fanfiction #bts fanfiction #bts au #taehyung au #verse: fine wine #bts imagines #taehyung imagines

[thejollyroger-writer]

where the quiet-colored end of evening smiles (part 3 of 4)

Summary: British soldier Killian Jones is nursing his sick brother back to health in the middle of the coldest winter the Pennsylvania countryside has ever seen, and in the middle of a war he never wanted to be a part of. Emma Swan has found herself surrounded by American soldiers who have taken over the family farm in Valley Forge, but the biggest change in her life comes from a young British soldier she meets delivering extra rations. Will they give into the temptations of their hearts, or decide that the chance of unrequited love is not worth the dare of being branded a traitor?

Title from Robert Browning’s “Love Among the Ruins,” 1855. Written for @cshistfic and my forever cheerleader @shireness-says, who made her dream event a reality. Thanks to @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @searchingwardrobes @profdanglaisstuff and @kmomof4 for being excited enough about this to make it happen. 💕

part one on AO3 / on tumblr

part two on AO3

"And I know, while thus the quiet-coloured eve Smiles to leave To their folding, all our many-tinkling fleece In such peace, And the slopes and rills in undistinguished grey Melt away— That a girl with eager eyes and yellow hair Waits me there" - Robert Browning

It’s not unusual for Ruby to show up at the door of their cabin; she is the only one who knows where they are, has been supplying them with food every once in a while. She has a feeling that David also knows where they are — the secluded cabin was his father’s, though he swore never to return to it. For weeks, their only connection to life outside their cabin is Ruby, with letters from Mary Margaret tucked into the bottom of her basket.

So, when there’s a soft knock at the door on unseasonably warm early March morning, the very last thing Emma expects to see is Mary Margaret, her swollen belly due any day now, and her eyes red from crying, clutching tightly to Ruby’s arm. 

“Mary,” she whispers, pulling her sister-in-law — her best friend — in for a hug after the moment it takes her brain to catch up. “What are you doing here?” 

“You know I wouldn’t have done this if it weren’t an emergency,” Ruby replies, ushering them into the cabin. 

It’s small, just enough for her and Killian to survive comfortably, a whole house crammed into a single room, but their two guests suddenly make it obvious just how small the cabin is. 

Ruby’s words make Emma think the worst, her heart sinking in her chest as she watches them sit at the table, Mary Margaret’s eyes finding Killian, standing wordlessly at the stove. 

“So you’re the reason my best friend disappeared,” she says. It’s not a question. 

He nods. This isn’t his place to speak, and he knows it. 

“Please tell me what’s wrong,” Emma says, her throat already dry. There is only one thing that would send Mary Margaret all the way out here in her state, and Emma can sense the words before they leave Ruby’s lips, a nod from Mary Margaret telling her to speak. 

“David’s been killed.” 

Her whole world seems to crumble from beneath her, head spinning as she tries to keep her feet on the ground. She has no words, and is unsure that she could speak even if she wanted to. 

“How?” Killian asks, his voice sounding much further away than she knows him to be. 

“I need your help, Emma,” Mary Margaret says, avoiding Killian’s question. “Please. I can’t do this alone. I need you to come home” 

There’s no argument in her, nothing can be said that will change her mind. She has to go back. 

And he can not go back with her. She knows it. 

He knows it. 

The air in the room is thick with the knowledge. 

Home . Where is home anymore? She would have sworn that it became this very cabin, that it became any place she could be with Killian, but when the word leaves Mary Margaret’s lips, she knows that the farm will always be her home, no matter what. 

“Of course,” she whispers, turning to meet Killian’s eyes. “Can we… have a few minutes?” 

She fully anticipates the No , hearing it in David’s voice — which only makes Ruby’s “Of course, Em,” hurt all the more. 

Neither of them move, frozen in their spots as Ruby and Mary Margaret move back through their door. The clock on the mantle over the fireplace ticks in the silent air, much slower than Emma’s pounding heart. 

“You have to go,” he says, still leaning against the kitchen workspace. 

She swallows, fingers gripping the edge of their dining room table. “Yes.” 

“I can’t… I don’t want to stay here without you.” 

“I cannot tell you what to do.” 

“I love you.” 

She sighs, her whole body shaking on the exhale. It is not the first time the words have been spoken under this roof, their feelings for each other quite obvious after giving up the rest of their lives to be together. In all definitions save the religious, they are married, have been together physically multiple times; perhaps in other situations, he would be able to return to the homestead with her as her husband, or at least her betrothed.

But that is not the situation they find themselves in, a fact they are both aware of. 

Finally, she finds the strength to stand, closing the space between them just enough to touch him, though she does not. She holds her hands at her side, fingers squeezed into fists. “What are you going to do?” 

He laughs out a single breath, shaking his head. In the ten weeks they have been together, his dark beard has grown thicker, stubble covering his chin, somehow making the sparkle in his blue eyes all the brighter. He has grown into the habit of running his fingers through the hair on his face, scratching along his jawline, and that is what he does now. 

“All I can do is go back to camp and hope that my brother keeps me from scandal. From death.” After all she has heard about the elder Jones brother, plus the few moments she knew him once he regained consciousness, she has no doubt that Liam will do anything to save his brother’s life, even if he has been missing from their camp for ten weeks.

“I will write to you.”

“How?”

“I don’t know, Killian!” she yells, throwing her hands in the air. All at once, she feels all the emotion that she has been holding in — fear, anger, despair, grief — and she crumbles against his chest, searching for solace in the one place she has been able to find it recently. She chokes out a sob, finally allowing her tears to fall. “All I know is I cannot lose you.” 

He presses a kiss to the top of her head, losing himself in the scent of her tresses, lovingly washed by his hands just the night before. “They are waiting for you,” he says finally, his hands gently pushing her hips away from him.  

It is not goodbye, but feels just as final, and they share one last kiss before she closes the door of the small cabin that has become their home, not knowing the next time she will see the man she has loved since the first time they met. 

But she is needed elsewhere, and for now, that is more important.

 She expected a bit of a mess. A few piles of papers on the desk, maybe an old tea mug or two. 

She did not expect the whirlwind of papers strewn about the small study, looking as if a tornado ran right through the middle of the house. 

“What the hell happened here?” she asks aloud, though she is alone in the room. 

“Sorry my organization strategy doesn’t fit your standards,” a voice from the darkened corner of the room says, making her jump. For a moment, she contemplates crying out, as she recognizes the figure in the corner as none other than her recently-deceased brother — but when she steps out of the shadows, revealing his pristinely-tied cravat, embroidered waistcoat, and knee-length jacket, she knows it is not David; it is his twin brother, their only other sibling. Sure, she hadn’t seen James for almost ten years, but she recognized the differences between him and David immediately. 

“Hello, brother.” 

He bows slightly, barely noticeable in the low light of the study. “Emma.” 

“You’re here for the funeral, no doubt?” she asks, trying to keep her contempt towards her brother out of her voice. Along with the other differences in their personalities, James was always much colder to her than David, separating himself from his other siblings as often as possible. 

And moving far from their farm as soon as he could, attending a prestigious college in New York City on the hard-earned dime of their parents. He left the day after he turned eighteen, almost ten years ago. 

“And to take over my duties as the head of household.” 

Had she not just placed the pile of papers in her hands on the desk, they would have fallen to the floor. She feels her stomach flip, but tries to calm it with a swallow. “Yes, of course,” she replies, trying to keep her voice as calm as possible. 

But she can tell that he recognizes the sheer shock written on her face. It’s a look that he became familiar with during their childhood, always going out of his way to scare her, to upset her. Just as he has done now. 

“Let me know if I can assist you as I did with David.” And with a small curtsey, she leaves the room. 

 It’s not very often anymore that Emma finds herself lucky. Over the past three days, her entire life has crumbled around her, losing her brother and having to leave behind the man who still holds her heart. 

But James has gone to town to call on the casket makers, leaving Emma to cover the duties as head of the estate. Which, today, includes responding to a small pile of correspondence left ignored by James, some delivered that morning.

Today, she is lucky to be covering James’ duties; otherwise, she would have missed a letter she knows is for her, written in a script that she would now recognize anywhere. 

Swan Household

Head of Staff 

What a clever man. He had no way of knowing who would be placed as their head of household; even she did not expect James to return home. But he remembered her technical title, given to her to be able to receive funds from David — the very same funds that covered them while they were at the cabin. 

Her hands are shaking as she pulls at the seal, hoping that it bears good news, even with how short it is. 

  E: 

I once again thank you for the generosity of bringing me into your home to recover from the effects of getting lost in the storm before Christmas. If not for your assistance, I surely would have met my death on the snowy hillside. I wanted to assure you and the rest of the staff that I was safely able to return to my camp and to my duties as a soldier. 

Though I cannot be thankful for the war that brought me to this continent, I am thankful for the time I was able to spend in your care. Perhaps if more households were as caring and understanding as yours, we would no longer need to fight senseless wars. 

I wish you peace and prosperity for your upcoming harvest months, and am eternally grateful. 

-Killian Jones

 Setting the parchment back down on the desk, she smiles, even as tears begin to form in her eyes. She misses him with every piece of her being, misses the way he smiles at her over his tea cup, his warmth in the middle of the night, his fingers as he washed her hair. That they were only able to spend a few short weeks in blissful happiness was immensely unfair, though she would never have left him for anything less important. She is thankful for his letter nonetheless, ensuring her that he returned to camp safely, even deceptively. She blinks, a tear falling down her cheek, and when she opens her eyes, she focuses on his name for a moment. Killian Jones , the man she loves. The man who, in any other life, any other circumstance, she would surely already be married to. 

But life is unfair, a fact that she is reminded of as her eyes move from his name on the parchment to the piles of other unopened correspondence on the desk. This life is unfair, but she has other responsibilities beyond sitting in David’s office and grieving for her broken heart. Grieving for what her life could have been. 

She has a life here, and right now, that life needs her more than ever. 

The morning of the funeral delivers a cold and dreary late winter day. A handful of guests arrive throughout the morning, all acquaintances of David’s, many of them merchants and farmers themselves. Each of them introduces themselves to James, knowing that he will be taking over the farm operations. 

The only reply James gives any of them is a small bow of the head. 

The dreary weather only matches the dreary feeling of being inside the house, the windows and mirrors covered with mourning fabric. Unprompted, many of their guests begin sharing lighthearted stories about David — how he spared a few coins when they were needed, how he would help deliver groceries when he went into town and was always available to anyone who needed his help. 

With each new story, Mary Margaret falls deeper into despair, flanked by Emma and Ruby the entire day. She is, understandably, inconsolable, tears only falling harder as the evening passes. She pauses only to take a few small bites of the biscuit and jam Emma shares with her. Not long after, she excuses herself, waving both her companions away as she leaves the room. 

Complete silence falls upon the room for the first time that day. Though a few of their guests have left for the evening, many still remain, faces Emma recognizes from the few times she was able to accompany David into the town, or was sent with Ruby. She smiles briefly at the baker, a greying man seated on their sofa, his young son asleep in his arms; beside him sits the owner of the closest dairy farm, the only animal their farm has not gained over the last few years. The seamstress that made Mary Margaret’s wedding dress; the journalist who wrote David’s death notice, seemingly taking notes for another article. 

Emma cannot help but wonder what the papers will say about the future of their farm, about the lost brother returning home — and sharing his unhappiness about it with anyone that will listen. 

Her fears only grow when the journalist — Isaac, she thinks his name is — fills the silence with a question she’s been avoiding for the last few days: “So, Mister Swan, what are your plans for the future of your family’s homestead?”

His eyes flick momentarily to Emma’s, holding a look that she remembers well from their childhood, one that sends a frozen chill down her spine. It’s the same look he used to give her before tattling on her, before getting her in trouble with their parents. “I’m so glad you asked, Mister Heller,” he replies. “I do not intend to pack up my life in New York and move back here, if that is your question. In fact, if neither my sister or sister-in-law can secure a new head of household in the next six months through marriage, I intend to put the whole estate up for auction.” 

Not for the first time of late, Emma finds herself nauseated, her stomach turning at her brother’s words. If she was not already sitting, she may have fainted, or at least lost her footing. 

Through marriage… the whole estate. He expects one of them to marry in the next two months — surely he must be joking. He cannot expect Mary Margaret to marry so soon after the death of her husband; she knows that he expects it only of her.

“A very sensible plan,” the journalist responds, marking down notes with his charcoal pencil.

Emma can’t help but disagree.

 Killian cannot believe she really wrote him back — but, at the same time, of course she did, has learned that she is nothing if not stubborn. The swooping letters on the page make his heart pound, remembering the delicate hands that wrote them, the way her fingers fit perfectly into his, how they would card through his hair as she sat staring at him, as if in awe of his very existence. He swallows, avoiding any deeper thoughts that would give him away, and turns his eyes down to the parchment in his hands. 

  Mr. Jones, 

The rest of the staff and I were happy to hear that you have successfully returned to your camp, and that you remain in good health. With the tragic death of our head of household, his twin brother has begun the search for a replacement, hoping that one of the ladies of the household will be willing to marry in order to keep the farm. Needless to say, things are a little chaotic, not to mention up in the air, here. The sooner this war ends and gives us one less thing to worry about, the better. 

Best of luck in your future endeavors.

E. Swan

 He reads it once, twice, again, trying to figure out exactly what her words mean. Surely this twin brother — which Killian did not even know existed — was not really expecting one of the ladies to marry, especially not his mourning sister-in-law. 

Oh, Emma, he thinks, his heart sinking into his stomach. In another life, he would have happily taken that offer, spending the rest of his days with the woman he holds most dear in order for her family to keep their farmland. 

In another life. A life that he does not find himself in, he is cruelly reminded when Liam enters their shared tent. 

“Pack your things, brother,” he says, beginning to do just that. 

“Why?” he asks, dropping the letter on his lap. “What is happening?” 

“We’ve been ordered to move west, and to do it quickly. There’s rumor of a storm moving this way and the captain wants to be clear of it before the rain hits. Orders are to pack up as quickly as possible and be ready to move before nightfall.” 

Jumping to his feet, he tucks Emma’s letter into the breast pocket inside his jacket and begins to organize his few belongings back into his pack.

Emma already thought she knew heartbreak, having to leave behind her sweetheart to take over the responsibilities of her brother. She thought she knew heartbreak when she watched them lower his casket into the ground, right beside where she watched them lower first their father, then their mother, years before. She even thought she knew heartbreak when James declared in front of the entire village that the only way they will keep the farm is if she marries in the next six months. 

But writing to Killian, replying to the letter he sent, and failing to receive a response after three weeks, hurts more than everything else combined. 

Especially as her symptoms grow worse, the same symptoms she recognized in her sister-in-law less than nine months before, and she can no longer avoid them. She is thankful to have Granny on their homestead (more thankful than usual), knowing the woman also includes being a midwife in her history. She measures Emma’s stomach, asks her when the earliest she could have gotten pregnant could have been. 

“New Years’ Eve,” she tells her, trying to keep herself from blushing remembering the evening — the excitement, the nervousness, the promises whispered in the darkness of their shared bed, the flickering of a single candle still lit to allow her to see his face. 

Granny hums, looking down at the measuring tape in her hands before turning back to Emma and nodding. “You’re barely showing yet, but I would say it wasn’t long after that. Eight or nine weeks.” 

That night, she does not even try to stop the flow of tears, curled up under the blankets in the coldness of her own room. She misses him immensely, wishes that he would just write back to her, even just to confirm that he is still alive. She knows there is no way to tell him that she is carrying their child, a being made by their love — and exactly the worst case scenario that David was trying to avoid when she introduced her to Neal. Tears come, puddling on her cheeks, dampening her pillow case. 

James gave her six months, but if she is going to marry without their knowledge of her current state, it’s going to have to be much sooner than that.

Other interested parties: @thisonesatellite @a-faekindagirl​ @lfh1226-linda​ @pirateprincessofpizza​ @gingerchangeling​ @kmomof4​ @onceratheart18​ @pirateherokillian​ @ultraluckycatnd​ 

#cshistfic #captain swan #cs ff #my writing #cs hist fic #cs fic #historical au #heartbreaking chapter #sorry yall #but like #not really

[hmslusitania]

I was scrolling through your blog and got a wonderful idea. Hear me out. The fire fam. But in a leverage plot. They are all criminals playing Robin Hood and evening the score for the little guy. Idk I just love it and both shows have given me all the found family I could ever desire. But just think, instead of joining the 118, they’ve all had moments where they had to make that choice of what direction to go. And instead of being LAFD they turn to crime. And still find each other. Because yes.

So, Anon, my dearest. This is a screenshot of the table of contents in my "Potential AU Ideas" document. Which I created back on March 9th (I started watching the show on March 1st). You may note that the very first entry is, in fact, a Leverage AU.

I am incredibly unlikely to write it at any point because I am 100% sure I would just do an absolute hatchet job with the plots because I am nowhere near as clever as John Rogers et al, so you have given me an excuse to talk about what the details would be:

To start, we have our Mastermind, Bobby, who used to definitely be on the side of right and good, but disaster struck his family, and you know how that building they lived in was 0% up to code, disconnected sprinklers, faulty alarms, highly flammable materials? Well, the company he worked for insured that building, and do you know who faced zero charges and even made money off this tragedy?

So anyway, he is invited to crime, and would necessarily pick up his crew of the following:

Hen Wilson, an extremely talented hacker

of note, her rival hacker in the other team is Karen. They met back in the 90s in a hacker forum and it takes them several jobs as rivals to realise they're in love, it's great

Karen steals Christmas as a way to flirt with Hen at some point (and donates it all, obviously, because she's Karen)

Eddie Diaz, retrieval specialist.

He's also just like...inexplicably good at basically any physical skill? Need him to play baseball for a job? Check. Need him to be a dance instructor? Check. Need him to be a music star? Check. They have found exactly one (1) thing Eddie can't do and it's cook, but fortunately Bobby's got them covered on that

also, Lena is of course the rival hitter. I don't know why, but the scene in the Last Dam Job where the goon is like "Who are you?" "Well, I'm not Eliot" except with Lena saying it has been absolutely stuck in my head since I first had this passing thought of an au so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Chimney, thief

yes his name is just Chimney. No, no other information is available and even Hen can't find it when she goes looking.

Rival thief, appearing both in the Two Live Crews Job, the Inside Man Job, and the Last Dam Job is his little brother instead of his father figure, Albert.

yes this is at least 45% because of John Harlan Kim's role in the Librarians

ANYWAY

They get super duper burned on that first job as a crew and so they need someone new. At which point, Bobby announces that what they really need is Buck. "What's a buck" everyone else asks, and they go to a crap theatre in a dark corner of Chicago where our dear sweet Buckles is just absolutely blundering his entire way through Hamlet. "This is the worst thing I've ever seen," Eddie says, because of course he does.

The story comes out that when Bobby was in his insurance hunter days, he had repeated run-ins with this kid, who had clearly spent way too much of his life deeply unsupervised and turned to art theft on a lark, and Bobby had ended up a sort of surrogate father figure to him (which is why Hamlet instead of the Scottish play because y'know avenge your father rather than encourage your husband to the dark side) and eventually somewhat maybe talked him out of crime! Which leads to the first encounter of the crew as:

Buck: Bobby?!

Bobby: Hey Buck. How've you been?

Buck: Good! Good, I'm acting now instead of grifting, and it's going pretty well actually! You'd be proud of me!

Bobby: I am

Buck: So what are you up to these days?

Bobby: Crime! Want to help?

Buck: oh thank god

ANYWAY (again)

That makes the last addition to their highly effective crew:

Buck, grifter

When Buck has to lay low for a while on account of having to fake his death because of the Freddie Costas thing, he sends another grifter in his place, secretly

he is...a bit miffed when he gets back to find his sister and Chimney have fallen in love, but hey, it means Maddie ends up staying with the Leverage crew on a permanent basis so it's kinda a fifty-fifty scenario

it takes him an embarrassingly short period of time to fall in love with Eddie, which is convenient since it takes Eddie an even more embarrassingly short length of time to fall in love with him. They're just. they're gross. They're absolutely gross.

And where is Athena?

Obviously, obviously, with all her Lawful-Alignment tendencies, Athena has to be the insurance agent-then Interpol agent who keeps having far too amicable run-ins with them. Because she and Bobby used to work together of course, because of course they did. Perhaps they also are somewhat in love? Possibly? Who's to say.

(I've been flipflopping on who would be Maggie for the purpose of this au and I think it might have to be Michael? Bobby gets him into crime -- in frickin' 9-1-1 canon, let alone in an AU -- after he and Athena divorce and it's all so weird between the three of them, but you know, they do all manage to stay friendly despite *gestures vaguely* everything)

So! Yeah! If I felt I had the intelligence to actually write Leverage-style scenarios, this is how I would do it! If you've made it this far, thank you for indulging me.

also, I did sort of write a ficlet on this theme once back when we were all doing the mashup prompts

#the ghost ship scribbles #the ghost ship answers questions #leverage au I will never write my love #9-1-1 #sorry for the long post I got excited #the ghost ship fuses realities