#I will not commit marriage fraud

[athena-xiii]

America is on fire, might have to marry several friends to get them here, my fuckin shoulder is dislocated cus I sat weird—

But like at least the queen who taught me to bake is demolishing the frat boys of YouTube

[youn8ss-2]

people on tiktok are talking about marriages of convenience (something people have been trying to get away from) and calling them lavender marriage, i genuinely can’t tell you how much i hate this generation.

[mochlus]

we need to abolish borders to that all my internet friends can come and live with me without me needing to marry one of them for immigration purposes every 2 years. it's gonna take like 30 years to get all of them here at this rate

[daeluin]

@andlightplay you don't understand fake married for legal purposes is my favorite au and it would work so well for them. it's like that tiktok of the guy who married his buddy to get paid more at work? like pete's all like 'me and patrick we have been committing marriage fraud for years & we get paid so much more and i buy him nice things and i just have to tiptoe around the fact we're not gay' and someone goes 'well you can be married to a man without being gay' and he goes 'hey. fuck off. i love him. i love my husband a lot'

[clover-the-awesomest]

OMG OMG THERES MORE

she wants everything dead but she sneezes like a puppy so that evens out /j

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[stayinlimbo]

We Become We

pairing: husband!lee minho x reader genre/warnings: friends to lovers, marriage of convenience, fluff, poor attempts at me trying to be funny, mc's gender is not specified word count: 1.02k note:  i am not dead yay. i tried my best since i haven't had time to write for almost a month so please take this as a peace offering ♡

Marriage. It’s an interesting concept, isn’t it? 

You’ve always thought so, at least. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

Yours happens to be a man named Lee Minho. The same man you’ve been friends with for as long as you can remember. The same man who asked you to marry him for a reason you didn’t get to learn until he was already down on one knee. 

(“I’m sorry, you want me to WHAT?” “Marry me. Please, I need health insurance.”

“Okay, yes, sure, whatever; now please get off the floor. People are staring.”)

Lee Minho, who, after dragging you to the courthouse and legally becoming your husband, finally elaborated on how his job would pay him more and cover both of your health insurances if he was married. So really, in his words, he was “doing you a huge favor” by marrying you. 

And, in all honesty, he really was. No, you didn’t have a ring to show off your new husband’s weird skill at finding loopholes in company policy, and you’re like thirty-five percent sure the two of you are committing some kind of marriage fraud, but does it really matter when you can finally start using the hot water in your dingy apartment without worrying if you’ll have enough money to fund your crippling caffeine addiction? The government will have to drag you kicking and screaming before you resort back to mankind’s cruelest form of torture: cold showers. 

Not to mention that marriage didn’t even change your relationship with Minho. And why would it? You’re still you, and he’s still him. He gets on your nerves just the same, maybe even a little bit more after he decided to frame your marriage certificate in his living room and send a photo to all your mutual friends. You’ll never forgive Minho for laughing at your helplessly panicked state when the group chat wouldn’t stop exploding with messages and incessant calls. 

You’re still his best friend that resides in his apartment four out of seven days of the week while he inhabits yours for the other three. Maybe that’s why, two weeks after your “wedding,” when it was time to renew your lease, Minho suggested with a simple shrug of his shoulders that you move in with him since “you’re here all the time anyway.” 

You’ve really got to learn how to say no to him because now you wake up next to your best friend/roommate/husband in his one bedroom, one bathroom apartment at the crack of dawn with a light pressure on your chest and fur in your face when his cats decide you need to wake up right now to feed them. 

Not to say you don’t like the new arrangement! No, that would be the furthest from the truth. 

Sure, you didn’t appreciate your skin care routine being interrupted by the unexpectedly high-pitched scream Minho let out when he saw you in a face mask for the first time, and what kind of person still has their phone’s brightness turned up all the way before bed? But who else would willingly tolerate your deliriousness before your morning coffee or indulge in your pleas to cook your favorite food three days in a row? 

Living with Minho has only made the purely platonic feelings you harbor for him grow stronger.

That’s what the fluttering in your chest means every time you see him, right? The reason for the smile that grows on your face when you hear the distinct jingling of keys at the front door?

Yeah, that must be why heat spread across your cheeks when he handed you his phone to text one of his friends back, because since when did the heart emoji make an appearance next to your pinned contact name?

You just care about each other, that’s all. It’s normal to want to make sure he arrived at work safely and ask how his day is going during your lunch breaks. It’s normal to start receiving back hugs before bed—a comforting weight as Minho’s chin rests on your shoulder while you apply the rest of the products to your face. 

It’s natural to have doubts about the nature of your relationship during an evening walk, acutely aware of his fingers lightly brushing against yours as you silently study his features illuminated by the soft glow of the scattered streetlights. What if he meets someone else and falls in love with them and wants a divorce and– oh. 

Has he always looked at you like that? With his gaze softening as it locks with yours? With the corners of lips lifting into the gentlest smile you’ve ever seen? With all the stars shining above you finding a second home in his eyes? A look so loving that it takes your breath away and you can’t tell if you’re about to laugh or cry in relief. 

And when you return home to get ready for bed, the familiar feeling of hands wrapping around your waist and a careful pressure resting by the crook of your neck quells the remnants of your worries.

It’s you and Minho. Minho and you, just as it always has been. Just as it’s always meant to be.

The distance between your bodies on the bed becomes nonexistent when you curl yourself into his side, laying your head on his shoulder and intertwining your legs with his as he immediately, unhesitantly, adjusts his arm, his fingertips finding purchase on exposed skin and roaming across the span of your back. A kiss to the top of your head is the last thing you feel before the gentle lull of breathing and the rise and fall of his chest begin to soothe you to sleep. 

…

Ah, marriage—what an interesting concept. Two people agreeing to sign a legal document and tethering their lives to each other for whatever reason, be it love, societal expectations, familial pressure, financial security, etc. 

You love your husband, and you’re beginning to think he loves you too. 

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist: @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn

[slashbitch2]

The Proposal AU! (part two)

Summary: when your boss Agatha faces the threat of deportation, she convinces you to marry her in return for a promotion- and things only get more complicated with a trip to Salem, an eccentric tarot-card-reading aunt, and a homophobic mother to convince.

Agatha Harkness x Fem!Reader

TW: deportation (which I admit I know very little about I'm not American lol) suggestive themes, sort of arranged marriage

W.C: roughly 1.3k words

PARTS: ONE, THREE

“There’s no way this is going to work.” You said, bouncing your leg underneath the table, finding it the only outlet for the sickening anxiety weighing down upon you.

To your left, Agatha was scrolling on her phone, nonchalant and entirely unaffected by your panic.

Realising you weren’t going to get a response; you allowed your gaze to travel across the room. It was barren, impersonal and imposing. The chair opposite was currently empty as you waited for someone to arrive. Who, you weren’t quite sure. You really didn’t understand anything about this entire process, and you silently prayed that Agatha did.

Agatha, who was infuriatingly casual about the whole thing. It wouldn’t surprise you if she didn’t understand the process, if she was just winging it- if she had dragged you into all this just to torture you. In an attempt to pass the time, you tried racking your brains for something you might’ve done wrong recently. A coffee order you had messed up, a report you had forgotten to submit, a mistake you might’ve made with her calendar. Yet, nothing came to mind.

Out of the corner of your eye, you looked Agatha up and down. Her coat was neatly folded over the back of the chair that she was slumped in, rather ungracefully you noted. She was wearing a purple jumper with a broach pinned to the collar, one you had never seen her without. You had always longed to ask her whether there was some meaning behind it, but knew better than to expect a genuine answer.

You glanced up at her face, framed by strands of dark brown hair falling from a messy bun, and watched as she chewed on her lip. Now this was a habit you hadn’t noticed before.

“Are you nervous?” You interrogated after spending a second longer staring at her lips than was socially acceptable.

“Why would I be? She murmured, not bothering to look up from her phone. “I have my gorgeous fiancé here with me.”

You sighed, willing her to show one ounce of normal human emotion and opening your mouth to refute.

“Well, isn’t that just lovely to hear.”

Both you and Agatha jumped in your seats at the sound of a foreign voice.

The man rounded the desk, dressed in a perfectly tailored, colourless suit. He had neatly combed grey hair and an impassive expression. “Lovely to meet you both.” He said, routinely taking his seat opposite. “I’m Tyler Hayward and I’ll be handling your case Miss…” the man’s eyes travelled across the file already opened on his desk. “Miss Harkness.” He finished, smiling up at you both coldly.

“Pleasures all mine.” Agatha smirked, tucking her phone away to pay the man full attention.

Finding your mouth suddenly dry, you nodded with a grimace that you hoped came across more like a smile.

“So, I have one question.” Hayward clasped his hands together, eyes darting between you both before landing specifically on you. He licked his lips, prolonging the tense silence, then finally, “Are you committing fraud to avoid her deportation so that she may keep her position at the company you work at?”

Right then and there, you could’ve sworn your heart stopped beating.

“That’s insane!” Agatha exclaimed, faking outrage as she slammed her palm down onto the desk- ever one for the dramatics. “The audacity to even suggest such a thing!”

You looked over at Hayward, seeing the glint in his otherwise frigid composure. You knew this was the kind of reaction he had hoped for, fake or not, and while this kind of intimidation tactic worked for Agatha with incompetent employees, it wouldn’t work on this occasion. She was doing herself no favours in trying to sell this sham marriage, and any remaining hope you held that she had a plan immediately went out the window.

“How dare you, we’re in love!” Agatha continued. “And I do not appreciate those kinds of insinuations that-“

“Hey, hold on now, love.” You intervened, ignoring how unnatural it felt to be referring to your boss in such a way. “He’s just doing his job.” Swallowing back your discomfort, you reached over to place a soothing hand on Agatha’s thigh, trying to ignore the way her skin radiated warmth through the layer of fabric. “But no, Mr Hayward, there is nothing fraudulent about the way I feel for Agatha. Unconventional, maybe. But definitely real.” You said through gritted teeth, attempting to force as much affection into your gaze as you could.

Which was especially hard with the way Agatha was staring back at you: a mixture of impressed, confused, and suggestive…

“My apologies.” Agatha said, placing her hand over yours. “I just get upset when people make assumptions about my personal life.”

“I understand that.” Hayward nodded, pulling your attention away from Agatha and back to him. “And you’re right it is unconventional for a relationship between an employer and employee. How, might I ask, does the company feel about this? I’m surprised they would allow such a relationship.” He inquired, though his curiosity wasn’t genuine. He knew that it wouldn’t be permitted, that this was a glaring flaw in your non-existent plan.

“The truth is…” You began, swallowed hard and thought desperately about how to respond. “Agatha and I… we’re just two people who weren’t supposed to fall in love… but did.” You shrugged, pretending as though you were reliving such great hardships. “And we couldn’t tell anyone we work with... As you pointed out, it would be deeply inappropriate.”

You smiled sadly, praying that Agatha would jump in so you wouldn’t have to monologue any longer. Each word you worried over, just waiting for you to slip up and have Hayward jump in and arrest you for fraud. You could practically feel the handcuffs around your wrists now, the cold metal tight against your skin, cutting into your flesh, constricting your movement. You felt your heart start to pound, your palms start to sweat.

Agatha must’ve felt you tensing up, as suddenly, you felt her thumb begin to trace soothing patterns against the top of your hand. Round and round. Real and yet ever so gentle. The soft contact drew you back into the moment, back to her.

Back to Hayward…

“So, no co-workers will be able to vouch for you.” He looked down at his file, grabbed a pen and scribbled something down. “What about family? Have the two of you told your parents about this forbidden love?”  He questioned, narrow-eyed and mocking.

“Oh, I…” You grit your teeth together, sucking in a lungful of air as you pondered how this would look. “My parents are out of the country right now.”

“Of course they are.” Hayward chuckled maliciously, jotting more down on his form.

“Well, my mother is actually on a road trip through the country with some… other relatives.” Agatha chimed in, regaining Hayward’s attention. “In fact, we were planning on joining up with them in Salem this weekend to share the wonderful news.”

“We were?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Oh yeah, how could you forget, sweetheart?” She fake-reprimanded. “It’s Aunt Lilia’s big sixtieth birthday road trip, the whole family’s coming together to surprise her.”

“Right…” You nodded along, though you couldn’t rid yourself of the frown adorning your face. You recognised what Agatha was doing. She was overcompensating, but she was only going to complicate this arrangement even further.

“How lovely.” Hayward drawled. “I suppose you’ll both be travelling up tomorrow then?”

“That we will.” Agatha gulped, your eyes tracing the movement of her throat.

You turned back to Hayward and met his evident annoyance with a smile, one more genuine. You didn’t like the man. You wanted to prove him wrong...

“I for one can’t wait!”

NEXT PART

[sadesluvr]

The Bride — PART TWO.

PART ONE

Thad, yes, Thad (short for Thaddeus) went by the common name of Jude. He was one of those men with Roman numerals at the end of his name; the same kind who had summer houses and Fortune 500 companies, which was why your ‘marriage’ had made sense in the first place. Whilst you weren’t a millionaire, you came from a stable home with decent money, making you the perfect partner for someone like Jude. You’d met at college, and as soon as you’d graduated, he’d taken you home to his parents and popped the question.  

And being a foolish, naive little twenty-one-year-old...you said yes.  

Contrary to how these ordeals typically went, Jude wasn’t an old man – at least not biologically, his mentality was debatable - but two years older than you. As they often did, your relationship started off as a fairytale; with financial stability and relative freedom, at least until you found out that his fathers’ company – the place he’d one day inherit – had been moving donations from the children’s and elderly charities they sponsored and pocketed it for their own.  

This revelation came at a time when you’d also found that Jude had been screwing one of his secretaries...so naturally, you decided to blackmail him. 

Which turned into extortion.  

It wasn’t really your fault; it was an eye for an eye. So long as he added your name to his will – which he’d neglected to tell you he hadn’t done – no one would hear about the funds.  

He then retaliated with hiding assets, routinely checking wads of cash with a UV light for your fingerprints so you could be left without freedom. 

You responded with a car crash and insurance fraud in his name. 

It was this kind of push-pull, give-take, fucked up excuse of a relationship that continued for seven years, ultimately bringing you to Havana today. Jude’s 30th birthday, one set to be shared with both of your families - and his mistress of the week.  

Even throughout all your chaos and drama, you had never expected it to end in a murder. Luckily for you, you’d evolved to become someone who thought two steps ahead. Just how ‘coincidental’ had it been for you to receive an unexpected drink from a mysterious gentleman, only two weeks after you’d overheard a conversation between Jude and his friends? 

“She’s fucking crazy, man. Straight psycho. I don’t know how she got this way, but I don’t know how much longer I’ll put up with it.” 

“Be fucking serious, man. You’ll never leave her. She might leave you, but you won’t. For one, you like the attention, and for two there’s too much wrapped in it. Your parents like her, and imagine all that stress going through in changing those estate papers? The only way you get out of this looking good without her tearing you to shreds is if she dies, and you become the sad, grieving widow.” 

“…So you see my predicament?” 

Tangerine was frowning, his moustache comically pointing downwards as his eyes remained blank, trying to take in everything you’d said, whilst Lemon, equally shocked, was also somewhat impressed; a hand covering his face as he tapped his lips with his index finger. It was silent until Lemon spoke, stretching as he did. 

“So, you’ve single-handedly committed fraud, blackmail, theft and staged a car crash —“ 

“—Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a boy three times a year.” 

“— Whilst shaggin’ a Cuban bellboy three times a year, but never went and offed this bastard yourself? What’s taking you so long?” 

“I don’t know how to use a gun.” You said earnestly, earning a nod of approval from the two men. It wasn’t a lie; just easier to say than the much larger, uncomfortable fact that you’d never really seen a way out of it all.  

The two men looked between each-other before glancing back down at the $20K. The money was there, and you’d presented a convincing enough argument – they just had to make sure there were no underlying risks. 

“And this husband of yours, he hasn’t got any hitmen or gangs around him has he?” Tangerine said, and you chuckled before vehemently shaking your head. “How do we know there ain’t a bounty on us if we don’t get his job done?” 

“I promise you, he’s just an ordinary white collar worker, nothing close to a Steve Jobs. You’d only have to worry about an enquiry, but I know a way of making this all spotless…Do we have a deal?” 

The Twins glanced at each-other again, with Tangerine raising a finger before dragging his brother around the corner, hands placed on his hips in frustration. Lemon looked behind him cautiously, his deep brown eyes painted with an inexplicable expression. 

“Right, now what do you make of all this, then?” 

“I think she’s a Mavis.” 

“Oh, fucking hell, Lemon —“ 

“No, no, no, hear me out on this one,” his brother interjected, raising a hand to silence him.

“Mavis is a Diesel, but she’s one of the good ones. Look, she starts off arrogant, feisty, a little naïve…but throughout time she matures and respects the other engines,” he said before nodding in your direction. “She got hitched at twenty-one, mate – maybe once we kill this fucker she can mature too. And hopefully go to therapy…” 

Tangerine shook his head, not because of the annoying tangent Lemon had taken, but the fact that it actually made sense. Running his tongue over his lips, he exhaled before taking out his phone and texting their handler, simply stating that ‘plans had changed’. 

“Right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s go bring her the good news.” 

When they returned you had opened the balcony doors, sat on the patio whilst indulging in another cigarette, staring out onto the streets of Havana. Couples walked hand in hand down the roads, whilst some men sat on the corners, laughing to themselves in the sunset and the dimming street lights, unbeknownst to the Shakespearean situation you’d found yourself in.  

Whether it was the buzz from the nicotine filled stick, or simply the fact that you’d become nothing but a black hole over the years, you were eerily calm; indulgent scenarios of Jude’s death playing in your mind like a movie.  

The two men – Lemon and Tangerine as you’d figured out – seemed decent enough, as decent as assassins could go, but you had no doubt that should your plan fall apart you’d be able to wriggle your way out of it. Because somehow, you always did. 

“Alright, love. Listen up,” Tangerine announced clapping and rubbing his hands together as he drew a seat opposite you, with Lemon leaning up against the balcony, arms folded over his chest. “We’ll do it. But we’ve got a few rules for ‘ya–“ 

“- We’re the professionals,”  Lemon interjected. “You can give us your ideas, but if we don’t like it, we ain’t doin’ it. Capeesh?” 

You nodded. 

“That’s right. If you fuck us over, or if we don’t get our money, your head is goin’ to be first on the chopping block, d’ya hear me? No second chances.” 

“Got it.” 

“And finally,” Lemon said ominously, walking over to you in his attempt to be intimidating. He was deadly, of course, but he didn’t have an inherent instability like Tangerine did. “You must never speak about this. If this shit blows up in our face, we don’t wanna see you crying on the news about ‘secret assassins’ n’ all that bullshit. We appreciate your discretion, yeah?” 

“I understand,” you hummed before rolling your eyes. “Why are you so convinced I’m going to turn on you? I hate my husband, and you’re practically giving me a way out.” 

“Well, I don’t know darling, maybe it’s got somethin’ to do with the fact that ‘yer first instinct was to blackmail ya husband when you found out he was cheating,” The moustached man said, raising his hands matter of factly. “Not knockin’ you darl’, it’s a good move, but you’ve got a pattern.” 

“You’re a Mavis.” 

“A who?” 

“Mavis from Thomas the Tank Engine. She’s a Diesel train, but she’s not like the others. You see, when she arrives in Sodor –“ 

“Can we hold the Thomas talk for one second, Lemon?” Tangerine scoffed. “We’re talkin’ business here.” 

“No, no, I wanna hear this,” you said with a smirk, cocking a eyebrow as you leaned in and stumped out your cigarette. “Besides, it’s getting late. Can’t we figure this out in the morning?” 

The man opened his mouth to protest, but Lemon nodded in agreement. 

“Ignore him, love. He gets cranky when he hasn’t had a nap,” he said, and you covered your mouth to giggle, much to the chagrin of the man next to you. Lemon looked down at his watch. “It’s only 9PM. We’ve pulled all-nighters before; I don’t see why we can’t do it again...” 

The two of you made googly eyes at Tangerine, as if you were children asking their parents to stay up for an extra hour. He looked between you both, ultimately letting out a frustrated sigh before popping his collar. 

“Alright,” he huffed. “I’m goin’ to get a fuckin’ drink because I don’t have the patience to deal with you two babies. When I get back, we’re dealin’ with this arsehole, got it?” He finished with a sickly faux smile. 

“Is he always like this?” you murmured to Lemon. 

“He’s a Gordon, he has no choice.” 

“Fuck me...” the man grunted, shaking his head as he made his way towards the door, pretending to ignore each of your requests for a drink and some snacks, with you specifying that yours weren’t poisoned.

He breathed a sigh of relief once he reached the hallway, striding towards the stairs to the lobby and in the direction of the bar, fiddling with his clothes upon reaching the counter. It wasn’t often that he made alliances, but he couldn’t deny that you were promising – already possessing the art of manipulation and recklessness needed to be an assassin.  

Raising a finger, he ordered a drink with the bartender, making a mental note to stop by the lobby vending machine for Lemon’s items, before glancing around at the clientele.  

Some of them seemed to be well off, like you, whilst others seemed middle to working class, and the longer he looked around the more it became apparent to him that he was looking for someone – the nameless bellboy you’d hooked up with – only to find Jude himself, (he recognised him from the photos you’d shown them) sat across the bar with his mistress, laughing obnoxiously loudly. She wore a skimpy red dress, and if he hadn’t had known better, he would’ve considered her a sugar baby, prostitute, or somewhere in between. 

Squinting, he found himself fidgeting again as he watched the sordid scene in front of him, with the bastard probably thinking that his wife was hunched over, puking her guts out into a toilet before she inevitably keeled over and died. He normally didn’t care about interpersonal relationships – it wasn’t part of his job – but he knew enough about the man to know that he wasn’t worth saving...even if you yourself weren’t morally infallible.  

Perhaps that was the reason he was resisting the urge to beat the life out of him. Either that, or the fact that he wanted you. 

Grumbling to himself, he downed a glass of whiskey before lighting a cigarette, taking a long drag as held the nicotine in his lungs and puffing it out like a dragon. 

All was fine until the bastard himself decided to make a comment. 

“Hey -- You can’t smoke here, dude,” Jude said in his snotty American accent. “Have some respect for the lady.” 

Tangerine shrugged, plastering a fake smile onto his face.  

“My apologies, I didn’t realise you worked here, mate.” 

Jude winced, his mistress shifting uncomfortably in his arms.  

“I don’t, but I’m sure you can --” 

“Well, that settles it then, doesn’t it?” the man interjected, a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.  “Bloody smart-arse, you are.” 

The woman clambered off him, watching as Jude became visibly more agitated, hands fidgety and eyes bulging. 

“They’re not good for you, anyway,” Jude continued, clearing his throat. “My ex-wife could barely pry herself from those things. No wonder she died.” 

Tangerine didn’t visibly react but found himself wholly amused at the fact that he was so confident to have thought you were dead already. Rigor mortis hadn’t even kicked in yet. 

“Yeah, well, if I had a partner that was anything like you, I’d smoke twelve packs a day fucking hoping that my lungs would dry up like ‘yer nan’s fanny,” he sniffed. “Fucking headache, trying to deal with you.” 

Jude winced.  

“I wouldn’t go there,” he said, his voice stern, but there was something in his stature that was rather unconvincing. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.” 

“Oh, I’m real scared. Fucking quaking,” Tangerine laughed. His hands itched to knock the life out of him, but knew that watching you slaughter him would be far more stimulating. “I pity you. You don’t even know what the fucks coming.” 

Slamming a note and a few coins on the table, he walked off without a second thought. It may have been one of the few times he walked away from a battle, but he was certainly not going to lose the war. 

PART THREE

Taglist: @mylatest-hyperfixation @thewizardcat @j23r23 (For commenting!🤍✨)

[crabbunch]

for @mcyt-aro-week - day 5 - flowers/wedding

"Etho," Bdubs says. "Should- should we get married?"

Etho blinks and sits up, moving his head out of Bdubs's lap. "What?"

"Well- hey, you didn't have to move," Bdubs pouts. "I mean, should we get married?"

"Why?" Etho says. He's not wearing his mask right now, and even with it on, he manages to expressive. He's obviously confused, which is weird, because Bdubs sort of thought...

"Well, you know," Bdubs laughs a little awkwardly as he rubs the back of his head. "It's- I mean, we're- I don't know! It just seems like something we could do."

It's hard to explain. He loves Etho. It's a deep, deep love, too, because Bdubs loves often and easily, and that's fine, he loves loving people, but Etho- Etho and him have been entangled with each other for so long that it's different. Bdubs knows Etho, and Etho knows Bdubs. Bdubs would do anything for a lot of people. He loves it. He loves them. But Etho...

Well. He's special. And maybe that kind of connection requires some kind of... marking. Celebration.

"I just kind of thought," Etho says. "That- um- marriage was for people in love."

"Bwuh- huh?" Bdubs says. "But- isn't that us?"

"What?" says Etho. "Um, no, I didn't think so..."

"Well, I do love you, you know," Bdubs says. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't."

Etho looks away, and a horrible dread rises up from Bdubs's stomach.

"But... um, you love me, right?" Bdubs says, voice wavering.

"Well, yeah!" Etho says. "Just- I mean, not in the get-married way."

"Oh," says Bdubs. "Oh! Well, that's fine. Okay!"

"Okay?" Etho chuckles, shoulders relaxing slightly with relief.

"Yeah, I was scared you were going to be like- oh, you've been hanging out with me for all this time, and you hated me for all of it, and were just too shy to say so. Wow!" Bdubs laughs. "So who would you want to get married to?"

"Um," says Etho. "I don't really know. No one, maybe."

"Oh!" Bdubs says. "So you- so if you're not saving your marriage for anyone, can we still do it?"

"Huh?" says Etho. "Oh, yeah, sure."

"Hey! You were so worked up about it earlier, and now you're just giving in!?" Bdubs says. "What's with that?"

"Huh? Well, if you're fine marrying someone who doesn't return your feelings, I'm fine with it," Etho says. "I like the idea of wedding presents."

"No, but-" Bdubs breaks off and grabs his face in his hands, frustrated. "It's not the hearts and kissing and stuff, because like, I wanna do that to you, but I don't care if you want to do it to me. It's just- you know me, yeah? And I know you. And that's the thing that I care about. That's the reciprocation."

"Oh," says Etho. He smiles. "Oh, yeah. Yeah, I love you. Like that."

"So we can get married?" Bdubs says hopefully.

"Of course," Etho says. "Make sure you require people to bring gifts on the invitation, though."

"You got it," Bdubs promises him.

- - -

Neither of them wear white. Etho, who has about 20 copies of the same outfit and wears nothing else, wears the same outfit he always wears. Bdubs isn't really surprised.

Bdubs borrows one of Cleo's dresses and looks absolutely fabulous in it, even if he does keep tripping over the hem. They pinned it up for him, but it's still far too long- NOT because he's short. Because Cleo's a giant.

It's totally worth it though.

Scar officiates, which means that there's a 75% chance they aren't actually legally married, but Bdubs isn't too bothered about it. This is more for sentiment than anything else. Actually, it's probably a good thing if his finances aren't tied to Etho's, since he commits tax fraud. Etho doesn't take off his mask when they kiss, which kind of sucks, but is also par for the course. Joel monologues loudly to anyone who will listen about the deep bond he and Etho share.

"Congrats," Grian says, grinning like a shark as he downs what has to be his 12th glass of punch, seemingly unaffected by it. "You've got a nice hustle going on here."

"You-! You and Scar and Mumbo did the same thing last season!" Bdubs protests.

"Yeah, but we ended up meaning it," Grian says dismissively. "This? Well, I mean, maybe you mean something by it. Etho doesn't."

Bdubs chokes on his own cup of punch.

Back in the games-

Well. Bdubs tries to keep his lives separate, but it's hard when some of his closest allies don't even bother pretending like it never happened. Etho and Cleo are always rubbing it in his face, the jerks!

The point being- he doesn't like thinking about it, but back in the games, when Bdubs had been red for the umpteenth time and not quite desperate, he had thought-

"He loves me."

And everyone had laughed.

Because the thing was- it had been a little bit of a lie. Playing up the role. Leaning into the blind faith that had carried him that far. But the faith had been there, and it had gotten him that far, so-

Etho doesn't love easily, and when he does, it's a choice, fragile and thin-spun from familiarity and the thrill of trying to stay. It's a little different from the love Bdubs feels- even the platonic kind.

And. The thing had been. That Etho hadn't chosen to love him then. Or he had, but it hadn't been enough, or maybe it was never love at all and it was just- the knowledge that Bdubs was Bdubs and Etho was Etho and that they'd always find each other.

Etho plays into the roles he's given, just like Bdubs. He's a little more subtle about it, sure, but Joel decides that they're soulmates and Etho plays along. Gem decides that he's washed up and he plays along. Cleo decides that they're divorced and he plays along.

Bdubs says, he loves me, and Etho lets him die.

That's how he knows there's something more than Etho just playing along there.

"Well, you think what you want," Bdubs says dismissively, and wanders off. It doesn't matter if Grian knows that he and Etho have stumbled into something a little different than love.

"Bdubs!" Etho shouts, waving him over to the gift table. "Look what Skizz got us!"

"A crockpot?" Bdubs squints.

"An essential for any newly-wed couple," Skizz says sagely.

"Well, if you say so," Bdubs says, and sits down next to Etho to help him unwrap presents.

[writing-zelda-brainrots]

I 1000% believe that Legend and Ravio got married for tax benefits.

--

[Name]: Legend, it says here that you have been "activity committing marriage fraud for money." What exactly is "marriage fraud?"

Legend: At my job , if you're married, you get paid significantly more money. So, me and one of my buddies decided to just get married. And now I make a bunch of money and I buy him nice things sometimes and it all works out good for the both of us. At work I kinda have to tip toe around the fact that I'm not gay.

[Name]: Well, Legend, I have news for you. If you and your "buddy" are legally married there is no fraud being taken place. You don't have to be gay to be married to a man. You- I mean, you did it.

Legend: I love him, also. I love my husband a lot.

--

[knightwithakay]

we’ve had a lot of Life Stuff happening recently but there’s a joyful power in being People Who Are Getting Married. sheer mention of the wedding invokes delight. every middle aged woman I know is over the moon. random lady in the town clerk’s office saw us swear we weren’t committing fraud for the marriage certificate and said, unprompted, “I was having the WORST day and now it’s such a GOOD ONE. have a wonderful life!” and then we paid our 70 bucks and left

[zackprincebooks]

Father Ardelian: Wow, Lord Vane is so pleasant and gorgeo--I mean generous! I'm sure nothing untoward will happen to me while I'm at Whithern Hall.

Lord Vane, holding a ceremonial knife over a pagan sacrificial altar underground: what

Sarah, with her corkboard full of red string: Lord Rufus has been alive since the Wars of the Roses and the entire Rufus lineage has been swapping places over the past four hundred years to commit vampire fraud and I've been trapped into marriage with him for some sinister reason so if you find this letter I'm already dead

Lord Rufus, spending hours painstakingly painting a portrait of Sarah as a Renaissance saint: what

[bluestrawberrybunny]

Well I'll be damned

Mr. Puzzles: Smg3, it says here you've been "actively committing marriage fraud" for money. What exactly is "marriage fraud"???

Smg3: At my job, if you're married, you get significantly more money, so me and one of my buddy's (Smg4) decided to just.. Get married, and I make a lot of money, and I buy him gifts sometimes and it all works out.. Good for the both of us. Yea at work, I kinda have to tip-toe around the fact that I'm not gay..

Mr. Puzzles: Well Three, I-I have news for you, if you and your buddy are legally married, there is no fraud being taken place... You don't have to be gay to marry a man, it's just- you did it!

Smg3:... I love him also.

Mr. Puzzles:...

Smg3: I love my husband a lot :)

SMG3 just wanted an excuse. Pansexual ass /silly

[wearethewinx]

I SAID I wanted to talk about Aisha:

It's been theorized that Aisha doesn't want to be a princess. I strongly disagree. She takes her role as the princess of Andros extremely seriously, and imo she clearly WANTS to be a good ruler. Yes, she snuck out to dance sometimes and refused her arranged marriage, but that NEVER stopped her from doing her Princess Duties, and she doesn't have baggage around the decorum of her station. She deploys it effortlessly when beneficial and takes it off just as easily. She drops everything at a moment's notice to return to Andros at the slightest sign of trouble to Be Their Princess

She is DEVOTED and LOYAL. Like, maybe the most of all the winx? She knew Flora for like, a week, and that was enough friendship currency for her to BREAK INTO HELIA'S ROOM AND PAW THROUGH HIS SHIT. Yeah Stella committed identity fraud for Bloom on day 1, but that's Stella. Aisha is responsible! Considers her actions carefully! EXCEPT when a friend needs a favor

That devotion includes her parents. Aisha's respect for her mother is paramount, even after the betrothal fiasco, and that's not just a passive thing. She proudly says "source: my mother told me and she's NEVER wrong" in class. I really wish we got to see more of Aisha's relationship with her parents

She knows a lot about poetry and speaks many languages. Again, I just wish we saw more of this

Basically homeschooled

Her royal education doesn't seem to include magic? Which is SUPER interesting to me. Every other princess we meet except Diaspro is canonically some kind of magic student, but Aisha seems self-taught. While every other princess in the magic dimension is learning to be a fairy or sorceress, the princess of Andros is learning diplomacy, fencing, languages, poetry, dancing, etiquette. That says a lot about Androssi royalty!

She's gentle

GENUINELY KIND OF A MAN HATER

I feel like Aisha is often flattened as 'the strong one' (and I do have personal beef w/ how people incorporate that into her design- she's sporty, not a bodybuilder. Dancing, motorcycling, and surfing are not activities that lend themselves to big bulky biceps!!) and I really think that's a boring disservice to her. IMO she's the sort of person who would really appreciate and treasure little friendship tokens, and spend a lot of time just. Trying to do nice things for the winx, and solve their problems. She treasures quiet time spent together.

Helia loving her (despite Aisha thinking he's a loser) because she knows a lot of philosophy and has a good command over her Vibes. Her and Brandon Doing Sports together bc the other Winx aren't interested and the other specialists annoy her too much, and them becoming catty frenemies. Aisha knowing about the history of Domino and the legend of the Dragon Fire, and bonding with Bloom over it. Bloom drawing a picture of the Winx together and Aisha keeping it forever. Aisha still being scared of the dark and Stella giving her a magical light. Musa helping Aisha plan something special to celebrate the Day of the Rose. Tecna Musa and Aisha bonding over the difficulty they have being openly emotional. Flora and Aisha fretting over eachother's well-being and bonding over their shared sense of responsibility to their families

[fvrtvne]

i'm not really sure why you rp isabela as avoidant to romance when she's clearly available to romance in game?

I'd have recommended coming off of anon so I could DM you about this privately, but no, you're choosing to waste my time with this ask.

Really? Really?

I need you to step back for a moment and ruminate on these questions ;

) Do you remember Dragon age 2?

) Did you just mindlessly mash through dialogue because hhrrrr pirate lady hot sexy hgghhdhghsouhhhh?

) Did you even play Dragon Age 2?

Look, I get it's hard to sit back and remember every piece of dialogue, but if you even remotely cared about Isabela as a character / actually cared enough about the game to listen to her dialogue then you'd understand that she does NOT want to be in a relationship when you first meet her.

Beyond maybe, idk, looking over her wiki, what vibes beyond finalizing your romance with her gave you the impression that she was going to throw her arms around you and run off into the sunset? Where in any of the story, even through bits of dialogue, does Isabela ever hint that she's ready to settle into a committed relationship?

Here, let me grab one of my favorite (not actually) excerpts from her wiki page; (which, btw, since we're here, google's free) ;

But Madam Hari grew disillusioned with the life of a fraud and eventually she converted to the Qun to give meaning to her life. She sold Isabela into marriage with a business associate of the Antivan Crows, Luis, when she refused to convert. While Isabela offers numerous interpretations of the bargain her mother struck when she was given away, she is noted as having told Varric Tethras once that her mother gave her away in exchange for nothing more than the promise that she would be looked after. Luis took her to Antiva City and they were married three weeks later, just shy of Isabela's nineteenth birthday.

Alright, cool, hoping you digested that, because I'm gonna go ahead and link this image that accompanies that entry.

Does this look like someone who's happy with the prospect of marriage? Does this look like someone who isn't traumatized by a decision made without her consent?

I know this bit was hidden behind comics for like maybe a month (year? idk) after it was published, but for fucks sake, it's been on something as accessible as wikipedia since (and i spent over 20 minutes scrolling) March 15th 2013.

Consider, maybe even momentarily, that Isabela perhaps doesn't want to relive that trauma, or perhaps doesn't even want to come close to feeling as trapped as she did when her mother had made a life-altering decision without a SHRED of concern for her daughters wellbeing.

Put yourself in her shoes for a moment, yeah?

She spends the next 8-10(ish) years of her life pretty much coping with this by never settling down, even in terms of location. Through her own dialogue, even being stuck in one place for too long is almost too much for her.

If that isn't enough, please, for the love of god, consider additional dialogue she provides in the game.

You know who shares a similar trauma to her? Fenris. You know who she has a healthy and casual relationship with because neither of them are looking for tied down commitment without some sincerity and legwork due to their similar feelings of helplessness? Fenris. You know what kind of blog you wouldn't send an ask like this to bc you're very clearly hung up on Isabela? Fenris.

Yeah, they fuck nasty, but even in the mission you do to even recruit her, Isabela proves time and time again (until you ofc complete her romance mission) that she's violently uninterested in a deeper connection beyond casually fucking. (In her own words; "it was just rutting".)

Sure, you can romance her and have a semblance of some kind of relationship with her, but you, as Hawke, (provided you're romancing her), spend SEVEN TO EIGHT YEARS building foundations of TRUST and COMFORT to prove to her that you're capable of not only understanding her past, but helping her through it. You're proving that YOU can stand beside her when shit goes south, and that you're not going to prevent any attempt she makes to claw toward her own self liberation.

I've been writing Isabela for close to 12 years now, and I know the ins and outs of her character better than I know half of my college coursework.

Anyhow, replay Dragon Age 2, learn to use google (it's free! as a reminder!), and maybe order yourself a size 24 loafer to match your clown-car? Idk. Hold this for me.