#muse: Anna Strong

[annastrxng]

Anna Strong Moodboard

[melpomeneprose]

( Just saying... )

[vocesincaput]

[melpomeneprose]

Okay now kiss.

@setauketloyalties <3

Mary had plenty of reasons not to like Anna but I do think that Anna absolutely smoked Mary with that "Worry about your husband, not your good name." line.

[anoseforrottenapples]

i love you, but you have to go. (Abe @ Mary)

Mary’s eyebrows drew together, a perplexed expression contorting her delicate features. “What are you talking about, Abraham?” She resisted his attempts to direct her toward the door, her hand reaching out to take his wrist instead. She had not known Abraham for long, but then she had not been living in Setauket for long either. With the death of most of her family in a sailing accident, and the disappearance of her brother Andrew on the frontier, Mary found herself having to chose between moving in with her odious older sister and her tiresome husband, or with her cousin Anna Strong. She chose Anna, and had come to live in the village almost a year ago. As much as she might have wanted too, Mary knew she would not be able to stay in Oyster Bay alone, and her brother-in-law promptly sold the family farm as soon as she left. “Are you in some kind of trouble, Abraham? If you are, perhaps I can help in some way.” She urged gently. “Why do you not tell me what the matter is?”  

[gremlinmodetweeker]

A Mysterious Culprit

A very short fluffy story, I promise.

A Mysterious Culprit

SFW

“Tell me. Where is he?” König snarled as he leaned in close to his captive.

“I’m not telling you anything,” the poor victim sniffed and turned away defiantly.

“Do not hide for him, girl,” König sneered, “it will make things worse for both of you.”

She shivered, but held strong against the giant man before her.

“We didn’t do anything! This is just a big mistake” the captive whined as she struggled against his hold on her.

“Oh it's a mistake alright,” König rolled his eyes before locking eyes on his prey.

“Let me go!”

“I will when you tell me why the kitchen floor is covered in flour and chocolate milk.”

König’s daughter looked up into her father’s eyes, blue matching blue for a painstakingly long moment before she huffed and turned her head away.

“I didn’t do it,” she snipped.

“I didn’t think so,” König nodded along, “there were no stools.”

“So you know it wasn’t me,” Holly relaxed in her father’s hold.

“Of course,” König reassured her gently, “I know it was your brothers. I saw their footprints in the flour.”

“I told them they should’ve covered their tracks,” Holly mused, squeaking when she realized what she said.

“So you were helping them?” König’s eyes sharpened, “kleine Rotznase!”

“I just told them to clean it! I didn’t try to make the cookies!”

“So you were making cookies, ja?” König chuckled darkly, “and you thought you were going to try and sneak this by me?”

Holly winced, but she stood strong under her father’s withering glare.

“Kinda?” she shrugged helplessly.

König sighed and let his daughter go. He ruffled her hair softly as he muttered a curse under his breath before turning back to the war zone that had made its way into the kitchen. Holly scurried away as fast as she could, most likely warning her brothers, the little snitch. König listened to her feet pitter-patter up the stairs before predictably hurrying over to her brothers’ rooms. He’d need to deal with her later.

He sighed and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen when you came up to him.

“What happened here?” you asked as you took in the utter state of your kitchen.

“Apparently die Kinder wanted to make some cookies,” König grumbled bitterly.

“Couldn’t they have waited until I got home?” you sighed as you put the groceries on the only clean spot on the counter.

König walked up behind you and hung his body over you, making you stumble a bit under the sudden weight.

“You’re so heavy,” you huffed, “have you been to the gym lately?”

König huffed , "That's why I'm heavy."

Thankfully, he relented with a tender kiss to your cheek and dragged himself off of you to give you some space to relax and take in just what you’d stumbled into. You let yourself rest back in his arms with a hum.

“So, should we get to cleaning?” you asked tiredly.

“Nein,” König growled, “they will clean it.”

“Have you figured out the culprit?” you looked up at your husband.

“Somewhat,” König spat, “they’re colluding against me. Me! Their father!”

“You’re also the one who’s trying to deal out a punishment,” you pointed out.

König grumbled as he pulled away to get a better look at the mayhem your children had let loose upon the kitchen. Wordlessly, he threw up his hands before looking back at you.

“How’d they even get the time to do this?” you asked.

“I was reading a story to the baby,” König explained.

You nodded and walked up beside him, taking care to avoid stepping on a puddle of milk.

“I love you,” you muttered, “but no more.”

“No more?” König asked.

“No more kids,” you laughed dryly, “Anna is the last.”

König looked between you and the kitchen, then crossed his arms over his chest. He snorted, and agreed, “No more.”

Story Masterlist

[annastrxng]

[melpomeneprose]

♫— I come over, quarter past two, love in my eyes. Blinded by you, just to get a taste of heaven, I'm on my knees…

[melpomeneprose]

Just girlie things!

This us? @curseconsumed, @annastrxng, @keptflame, @setauketloyalties, @pagetreader, @sharp-teeth-and-wide-grins, @anoseforrottenapples & @turnwashingtonsbaddies.

(This came up in my Pinterest and y��all were the first to come to mind. 🤷‍♀️ )

[escapismbook]

ESCAPISM CHAPTER ELEVN

Chapter Eleven | Escapism

→ Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female)

→ AUs: non idol!au→ Genre(s): dark romance, smut, mature, mafia

→ Trope(s): professor-student, forbidden romance, dark, sin-evil, passion, slow-burn, seductive, mafia

→ Rating: mature/explicit (this is mature/explicit content, so you have been warned.)

→ Word count: 8k

→ warnings + triggers: explicit smut, (female) OC is innocent and pure and Yoongi is desperate for her. Drug use, Strong language, Explicit scenes, finger-play, first-time-sex, Mentions of S.A, Violence, Dark Themes, Crime Elements, Alcohol, Club setting, Obsession, Possessive, Protective Love, Emotional.

→ Author’s note: Escapism is a dark romance—intense, poetic, and deeply atmospheric. It explores desire, deception, and the pull of the forbidden. This story contains mature themes, including:   

This story is also written by two authors. Both working on the two couple. Please read with caution. For those who stay, welcome to a world where love and darkness intertwine.

Dedication: Reaches out to cup your cheek, "now be a good girl for me."

(Don't forget to like and comment.)

Small note: when you see this font it means they are speaking Korean.

SONGS FOR CHAPTER |

Natalie Jane | Crazy

Chapter Eleven | Escapism

Aalia stood before a rack of evening gowns, her fingers grazing the silk and velvet, letting their texture soothe her. Her mother, aunt, and cousin busied themselves with the finer details of the dresses, discussing necklines and embellishments. Shopping had always been a rare escape, a pocket of time where expectations did not weigh so heavily on her shoulders. That is, until she heard the name that made her stomach twist.

"Lee will be attending tonight's gathering," her aunt mused, adjusting the collar of her blouse. "You should make an effort to be more engaged with him, Aalia.” And both her mother and cousin nodded.

The joy that had filled her only moments ago seeped out of her as though punctured by their words. The weight of their expectations pressed into her, heavy, suffocating. She wondered if she was merely a portrait painted solely for them to display for Lee.

Her cousin, sensing her silence, nudged her playfully. "You could at least pretend to be excited about your perfect future," Saron teased, but Aalia barely reacted.

Then, as if the air itself shifted, a presence made itself known. Min Yoongi walked behind his mother and sister-in-law, Hye like a shadow. He did not belong here. Not among silken fabrics and idle chatter of couture. He did not sift through racks of tailored suits or even pretend to be interested in the mundane task of shopping. He was simply there, moving in the background like a shadow stretching with the setting sun, ever-watchful, ever-present. And the distance she tried so desperately to maintain amused him

“Anna,” his mother Min Song smiled as they approached. “Byeol, I was just thinking about you.” As the women engaged in conversation, the corner of Yoongi’s mouth twitched, and his eyes looked at Aalia with amusement. He made no move to approach her, but he was enjoying this. 

Aalia clenched her jaw, tearing her gaze away, feigning interest in the dresses before her. But she could feel him watching the way she was struggling to keep herself together. She hated it.

She walked alongside Saron and Anna, her nephew’s small hand curled into hers as he babbled about a game he wanted. She clung to his voice, to the normalcy of the moment, but nothing could mask the awareness that prickled beneath her skin. Their mothers and her aunt walked a few steps behind them, engaged in their own conversations, their voices lilting and refined. And behind them, like a silent spectre, Yoongi followed.

He could see it in the way she occupied herself to avoid looking in his direction. It made his lips twitch, a lazy smirk pulling at his mouth as he allowed himself to indulge in her struggle.

Aalia tried not to notice when his hand slid into his pocket, his head tilted slightly as he leaned against a polished wooden beam at the entrance of yet another boutique, watching the way she pretended not to notice him there.

She stepped deeper into the store, her fingers grazing over the silks and satins draped across ivory hangers until she found it. An emerald-jade gown, its colour rich and deep. She lifted it from the rack and turned towards the fitting rooms.

The moment her hands reached for the door to close it, he pushed his way in, locking it behind him. Aalia spun around so quickly she nearly stumbled. “What are you doing?” she whisper-yelled, eyes wide, panic flickering across her delicate features. “Are you crazy?”

His nonchalant behaviour only served to infuriate her more. Yoongi didn’t answer immediately. He leaned against the door, his hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans, his expression infuriatingly calm, but amused. “You’re avoiding me.” His voice was smooth.

“Out.”

He laughed at her attempt to order him. He took a step closer to her. “Oh, don’t be like this, darling” he tilted his head to the side. “You practically invited me.”

“You hardly left me enough time to close the door,” she said. Yoongi smiled as he looked down at her. 

She inhaled slowly as if she was trying to calm herself. She looked up at him as he towered over her. Her gaze was intense and hard, like she was trying to be intimidating but he found it rather enduring and sexy. “You’re insufferable,” she said. His smile was slow, but then his eyes fell to her lips.

It had been a month since he had last tasted her. A month since her lips had parted beneath his. And now, here she was, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. His fingers twitched at his sides. He should not. He had promised her restraint. He leaned in, his forehead nearly touching hers, his voice a silken whisper against her trembling breath. “There are so many things I could teach you, Aalia.”

She sucked in a breath, but she did not move away. He stepped forward, she instinctively took a step back. Another step, and another, until the cool wall of the fitting room met her back. Her cardigan had slipped from one shoulder, exposing the smooth expanse of her skin.

His hand found her thigh, fingers gliding up, slowly, revelling in the way her breath hitched as he brushed against her bare skin. He cupped her face, his thumb tracing her cheekbone, tilting her head up to meet his gaze, their foreheads pressed together. She smelled of jasmine and vanilla, something so wholly her. “It’s been too long since I last tasted you,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over hers, but not touching. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” His voice was low, rough with want. “Hmm?” She barely had time to process his words before she found herself shaking her head. “No?” He whispered, his lips brushing against hers with each syllable, his tone filled with dark amusement. “Let me show you.”

He captured her lips in a scorching kiss. She did not kiss him back, but she did not push him away either and that was all the permission he needed. His hand gripped her thigh, lifting it to wrap around his waist, her dress riding up, exposing more of her to him. He pressed himself against her, trapping her against the wall, and she gasped. His lips curled into a sinful smile against hers, and he seized the moment, slipping his tongue past her parted lips, deepening the kiss with a desperation he could no longer suppress. She tasted like forbidden fruit plucked straight from the Garden, and he wanted to devour her. 

Aalia moaned, and it was his own personal hymn. His grip on her tightened, one hand tangled in the strands of her hair, the other sliding beneath the hem of her dress. The memory of last night, the way she had looked, the way her body had moved on the dance floor, haunted him. His fingers ghosted over the heat between her thighs, and his lips brushed against her ear. “Fuck, you’re so wet, darling.” 

Her hands moved, one on his chest and the other on his shoulder, gripping the fabric of his shirt as his finger pushed inside her. A gasp left her lips, and her head fell back against the wall as her eyes squeezed shut. The sensation was foreign, and heat coiled in her stomach.

“Look at me,” he whispered, and she did. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip as he pushed another finger inside her. “You’re mine,” he said. “Do you understand?” The way he moved his fingers, slow and precise, made her forget how to speak, made her forget every language she knew. All she could do was press her lips together, trembling beneath his touch.

Yoongi leaned in, pressing his forehead to hers, his breath hot against her mouth. He curled his fingers inside her, drawing out a small whimper that had him groaning low in his throat. “Let me hear you, darling,” he whispered. “Please let me hear you, Aalia.” A soft moan left her lips, but it was so small and breathless that it was only meant for his ears. His lips drew closer to hers, but he did not kiss her. He continued to move his middle and ring fingers and curling them.

“Yoongi,” she breathed in a shaky voice, and he smirked. Her hand dropping down from his shoulder to his arm, her nails dug into his skin. “Mm, Yoongi” she gasped quietly, and he could feel the tension build in her body, the way her breathing quickened and became more laboured.

He cupped her face with his other hand, his eyes locked with hers. “Are you close, darling?” he softly.

She nodded almost desperately. “Mmhmm, yes,” she managed to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

 His fingers curled again and moved faster, pressing against a spot that made her legs grow weak and her stomach tie into a knot. Her arms locked around his neck, pulling him closer to her. “Come for me,” he breathed against her ear, and he felt her come around his fingers. Her body trembled against him. He pulled back enough to look at her. He slowly drew his fingers from her, bringing them up to his mouth, licking the taste of her off his fingers. Aalia blinked as she watched him. she was stunned that he just did that more than what happened. “You taste so good, darling,” he said.

A sharp knock on the door. Her breath caught, her heart slamming against her ribcage. "Aalia, is the dress alright?" Saron's voice was light, casual, oblivious.

Her eyes widened in sheer panic. She was frozen, still pressed against the wall, her skin still burning from his touch. She turned to Yoongi, expecting him to at least feign some level of concern, but he was nothing but calm and amused. 

She cleared her throat, forcing her voice to steady. “Ye—yes,” Aalia stammered, and she could feel his quiet laughter in the air, though he didn’t make a sound. “It’s fine.” Yoongi chuckled. He found this comical, watching her scramble to compose herself.

Aalia shot him a glare before pushing against his chest, trying to shove him away. He allowed it, stepping back with an easy, amused expression as he watched her fumble through the situation. He wasn’t going to help her. He leaned against the opposite wall of the fitting room, his hands lazily tucked into his pockets, the smirk tugging at his lips so maddeningly smug that it made her stomach tighten. He was enjoying this.

“Well, let me see, girl,” Saron tried the handle. It rattled against the lock.

Aalia sucked in a sharp breath. “I’m already getting dressed,” she rushed out. “Could you get me the heels to go with it? The black ones.”

Yoongi lifted an eyebrow. 'Clever girl.'

“Alright, I’ll see you at checkout,” Saron finally replied, her footsteps retreating.

Aalia exhaled in relief, but Yoongi’s quiet chuckle snapped her attention back to him. He was still leaning against the wall, watching her like he watch his favourite program. She shot him a glare, but he only smirked. “That was quick thinking,” he mused, his voice smooth, teasing.

She ignored him, pressing a hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow. But Yoongi stepped closer and cupped her cheek, tilting her head up to meet his gaze as his thumb brushed over her bottom lip. He could still tasted her. The sweetness of her still lingering on his tongue making him hunger for more. But he didn’t kiss her this time even though he wanted to. 

"I..." she began, voice barely above a whisper. “I will go out first.” He didn’t move, but he nodded.

She reached for the lock with shaky fingers and slipped out of the fitting room. Yoongi waited. Just a few moments. Just long enough to let her get ahead before he followed.

Aalia joined her cousin at the register she waited for the cashier to total the amount. The others stood off to the side, wrapped in their own conversation. She let out a slow breath, steadying herself. She could still feel him. The ghost of his fingers lingered. She clenched her fingers around the silk of the gown, trying to shake the memory of his fingers between her thighs. But then—

"Ah, Yoongi," Mrs. Min smiled, a touch of relief in her tone. "I was looking for you."

Aalia didn't turn around, but she stole a glance from the corner of her eye. He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, posture relaxed, as if he had only just wandered in the store. "Sorry, I was on the phone," he lied.

Aalia reached for her purse, pulling out a neat stack of bills. It was from the bundle he had given her last night. The second the money touched the counter, she felt his eyes. She knew better than to look at him. She was using his money, and he had to hold back his smirk. 

The evening air carried the scent of aged cigars and imported whiskey, mingling with the subtle fragrance of rare perfumes that trailed behind women draped in the finest silks and velvets. Men in three-piece suits, their polished shoes clicking against marble steps as they ascended into the heart of the evening’s gathering.

Yoongi stood behind his father, the patriarch of the family, who greeted each arriving guest with a handshake. His mother moved through the room with an effortless grace. His older brother and sister-in-law mingled among the guests as well greeting them. Yoongi, however remained where he was, just behind his father with his hands in front of him as he stood tall.

The event had begun as everyone finally arrived; all the prominent families were in attendance, gathered in clusters, discussing business beneath the guise of pleasantries.

Yoongi leaned in slightly between his parents as he stood behind them, his elbows rested lightly on the back of their chairs, his dark hair fell over his eyes neatly and then—she arrived, and he lost focus. The emerald-jade gown she had bought that day clung to her, her dark waves cascaded down her back, parted to frame a face too innocent for a place like this, yet too mesmerizing to belong anywhere else.

His father said something, but the words barely registered. He caught himself, blinking once before forcing his attention back to the conversation at the table, but his eyes kept running to her.

As the night went on the air was thick with the scent of aged whiskey, Cuban cigars and chatter. Yoongi stood behind his father yet again as if he was learning. His hands rested loosely in front of him, fingers grazing over the signet ring on his right hand. But he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation happening before him between his father and Mr. Hong. 

He was watching her, and he didn’t bother to hide it. 

Lee enetered the ballroom, a few handshakes here and there as he moved closer. Yoongi watched as his brother greet him. It was polite, nothing more. Lee exchanged words with his father next, then with Aalia’s father, both men offering him nods and smiles.

And when Lee moved towards Aalia, Yoongi’s jaw flexed as his eyes followed the way Lee’s hand grazed the back of Aalia’s chair before he sat down beside her. He hadn’t liked it last night, and he didn’t like it now. He watched as Lee leaned in, close enough for their shoulders to brush.

The devil whsipered in his ear, Take what’s yours. Now. The room faded into nothing but shadows and murmurs, the only thing in focus being her. The way her fingers traced the rim of her glass. The way her throat bobbed when she swallowed. The way her posture arched as she sat. He could still taste her on his tongue from earlier that day. He could still hear the breathy little gasps she had made as she came on his fingers.

And now, she sat beside another man.

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to look away, even if just for a moment. He could feel it happening. The shift inside him. The calm, calculating professor-businessman was slipping away, unraveling thread by thread, and the other part of him—the part that had been molded in blood, in power, in ruthless hunger—was creeping to the surface. He rolled his shoulders back, forcing himself to relax.

Lee leaned in, close, his voice slipping through the layers of music and conversation. “Smile," he whispered, his tone smooth but firm. "People will watch."

Aalia turned to him for the first time that night, her dark eyes meeting his. She forced a smile just in case any members of her family were watching. "Don't tell me what to do," she said, her tone as soft as it was sharp. She turned away, back to her glass of champage, dismissing him with a slow sip. 

The night carried on, a seamless blend of conversation, music, and veiled transactions disguised as polite exchanges. Yet, through all of it, Yoongi’s attention never truly wavered. He played his part—standing behind his father, exchanging nods and the occasional smile, keeping up with the ebb and flow of conversation among the city’s most powerful men. But his mind was elsewhere.

Lee placed a hand at Aalia’s waist, guiding her through the dance, and Yoongi had never hated a dance more in his life. His fingers grazed over the signet ring on his right hand, twisting it slowly, methodically.

The bastard had his hand was at her waist.

Yoongi exhaled through his nose, willing himself to remain composed. It had been easier to control himself before. Before he had touched her. Before he had learned the way she gasped his name, the way she melted, the way her body responded to his every touch as if it had been made for him.

"Are you alright, Yoongi?" His mother’s voice was soft but knowing, her small smile holding a weight only a mother’s gaze could carry.

Yoongi turned slightly, his expression unchanged, his composure perfectly intact. “I’m fine, eomma.”

But she saw right through him. She had watched him from the moment Aalia entered the room, the way his eyes followed her. She had only ever seen that softness in his eyes once before—years ago, when he played the piano and the guitar, when music had been his escape before duty stole it from him.

"Fight for what you want," she said quietly, her voice steady but warm. "Or you will come to regret that you didn’t." Yoongi smiled as he looked down at her. Then, without a word, he took her hand and kissed the back of it. 

The waltz ended and Aalia stepped away from the dance floor as she made her way toward the champagne table. Lee was deep in conversation with a group of men, laughing at something one of them said. He hadn’t noticed her slip away.

She didn’t need to turn to know who was standing next to her. "You seem more invested," she said.

"I'm just making sure everything is in order," Yoongi finally said, voice casual. "And my father needs the help."

He took a step closer. “Mmhmm,” Aalia nodded.

Yoongi clenched his jaw. She was playing it cool, but her breath hitched the same way it had in that goddamn changing room. His mind flickered back to it. He exhaled sharply, pushing the memory back into the recesses of his mind. But it didn’t leave. No, it stayed there haunting him.

“There you are.” Yoongi’s irritation flared instantly at Lee’s voice. He looked at her, as if she belonged to him and Yoongi felt the urge to rip his fucking hand away. His hands clenched into fists at his sides. He forced himself to breathe. 

Lee barely acknowledged his presence, too caught up in looking at Aalia as if she were some prize he had already won. “We met, but we didn’t have the chance to make an introduction,” Lee said, extending a hand to him. “Kang Lee.”

Yoongi forced a polite smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He took Lee’s hand. "Min Yoongi."

Lee’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of recognition settling in his features. “Ah,” he breathed, “so you’re Mr. Min’s son?” The way he said it like he was standing in the presence of someone he admired.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly. "I believe so." A delicate, melodic laugh spilled from Aalia’s lips. It was quiet, but sharp.

Lee turned to her, brow furrowing. “What’s funny?”

Aalia took another sip of her champagne, waving her hand dismissively. "Just thinking." Yoongi smirked. Lee was a fool.

"Aalia! Come! I need pictures!" Aalia turned just in time to see Nari, one of her cousins, beaming as she waved her over. Yoongi felt an unexpected surge of gratitude for the interruption because it meant Aalia would not be near Lee.

As the night pressed on and the clock neared midnight, the grand event slowly unraveled. The laughter grew softer, the music faded into a low hum, and only a select few remained behind. The women gathered in the garden of the hotel, their gowns pooling over chairs as they sipped on tea, exchanging hushed gossip. The men, however, had retreated to the drawing room—a lavish chamber filled with the rich scent of the finest whiskey and curling smoke from imported cigars.

Yoongi sat in a deep leather chair, fingers resting idly against the rim of his glass. His eyes flickered toward Lee, who sat across the room, speaking to a few men. But then he saw him push back his chair and stand, a subtle tension coiled in his spine. Yoongi finished his drink in one slow sip, then rose to his feet. He wasn’t sure why he followed, only that he wanted to make sure Lee didn’t run into Aalia before the night ended.

But as he stepped into the lobby, he caught sight of her entering the elevator. He watched as Lee stepped out of the main entrance. Aalia hadn’t seen him and Yoongi moved without hesitation, slipping into the elevator just before the doors sealed shut.

She didn’t look at him. The air between them was thick. Yoongi leaned against the elevator wall, his gaze fixed on her. She was standing so still, her hands clasped in front of her as if grounding herself and the weight of the night was slowly settling on her shoulders. 

The elevator doors slid open, and Aalia stepped forward, prepared to walk to her room but Yoongi grabbed her wrist. Her breath hitched as he dragged her in the opposite direction, his grip firm but not painful. She tugging her wrist so hard that she broke free.

"Watch that attitude, Aalia," he murmured, his voice quiet.

Her fingers curled at her sides. She turned on her heel, intending to walk away, but Yoongi spun her around and threw her over his shoulder. "Yoongi!" Her hands bracing against his back. "Put me down!" But he didn’t seem to care as he carried her through the dimly lit hallway. 

With a swift motion, he pushed open the door to his suite and stepped inside closing the door behind him. He tossed her onto the sofa. Aalia landed with a soft gasp, her eyes burned with indignation as she looked up at him. Yoongi stood before her, his gaze heavy, his breathing measured.

Aalia stood, straightening her shoulders and she moved to walk past him, but he stepped into her path. She turned the other way, but again, he blocked her.

"Move."

Yoongi didn’t, watching her with that same infuriating expression. “No.”

She exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing. “Min Yoongi, move.” He stepped closer, his face mere inches from hers. She could almost feel the quiet storm in his eyes. His breath was steady, but the way his jaw ticked, the way his hands curled slightly at his sides, betrayed the war inside him. It was tearing him apart, watching that bastard look at her like she belonged to him. It drove him insane. His blood burned, hot and lethal, a venom laced with something far more dangerous than hate. 

Aalia had joined the party later than everyone and there was a reason behind it. She didn't want to attend. Aalia inhaled sharply, the weight of everything she had been bottling up was suffocating her. Her family had been relentless, pushing her toward Lee, weaving her future into something that felt like a noose around her throat. They wanted this union. It was expected. Tradition. Duty. She hated the way Lee’s presence felt like a chain she could never break. She hated the way her family whispered about when she would be his, never if. She hated that she was supposed to sacrifice herself—her happiness, her desires, her freedom—all for the sake of bloodlines and alliances.

And she hated that Yoongi was standing here, tearing down every wall she had built to keep herself from feeling it. This isn’t fair. This isn’t fair. She hated that he was not part of her life now all because of a single night because she wanted something she wasn't allowed to have.

"Yoongi—"

"Don't Yoongi me." 

Her nails pressing into her palms. She finally looked up, his gaze softened—just a fraction, just enough for her to realize he knew. She was breaking. Yoongi reached out, cupping her face. His touch was careful, like he was afraid she would shatter. “Aalia,” his voice dipped, gentle yet firm, “you’re not telling me something.”

The heat of his palm against her cheek burned, not from pain but from the unbearable weight of it all. He saw her. And it was too much. She shoved his hand away. “I do not need you to worry about what goes on in my personal life.” Her voice was sharp.

Yoongi watched as if the weight of the world had been placed on her shoulders. He saw how her family orchestrated every step she took like she was some pawn in a grander game. But for fuck’s sake—she was his. “When I see you with Lee, it drives me insane. I can’t stand the thought of him even being near you. I can’t stand the way he looks at you. It makes me want to snap his neck.”

Aalia felt the way his words wrapped around her. He needed to stop because everything inside her was about to break. She didn’t want to be tied to Lee. She knew deep down, that once she went through with it, she would never be happy. But she would do it anyway for family. For duty. She wanted to scream, to tell Yoongi to shut up, to stop talking. She had been avoiding the truth, pretending that she could live in this bubble a little longer, that she could silence the inevitable. But Yoongi was making her face it. He was making it real. His words—his presence—his touch— they were tearing that illusion apart. 

"It's none of your business," she said sharply, forcing her voice to be as cold as the air between them.

Yoongi scoffed. “Everything that involves you is my business, Aalia.” He reached for her again, fingers brushing her cheek in a way that made her heart take in a deep breath. His touch was soft, yet claiming. “I’ll be damned if I let anyone take you away.” His gaze darkened. “And definitely not that bastard.”

She shoved his hand away again, but the fire in his eyes didn’t waver. His gaze bore into her, the intensity unbearable. "Move," she demanded.

"No." His voice was firm, unyielding. “I’m not moving,” he repeated, his voice softer this time, but no less commanding. 

Aalia felt like she was drowning. She was breaking, but she would not let herself. He saw the way her hands trembled, the way her breath hitched in her throat as if she was swallowing back something she refused to let free. He saw the glimmer in her eyes—not a reflection of the dim golden light, but the shine of unshed tears she would not allow to fall. It made something tighten in his chest.

Tears that did not fall were infinitely worse than the ones that did. 

Yoongi stepped forward, closing the space between them with a gentleness. “Aalia,” he murmured her name, so gentle, so quiet. She inhaled sharply. She knew what he was asking her to do. He wanted her to let go.

Aalia shook her head, the movement barely a fraction, but it was enough. Enough for him to see the stubborn glint in her eyes, the iron will behind them. “I will not,” she whispered. The words were fragile and brittle, as if they would shatter if spoken too loudly.

And his heart clenched. He hated that she was fighting so hard to keep herself from breaking when she was already fracturing right in front of him. He touched her, his hands came up to cup her face and they were devastatingly gentle. His fingers barely pressed against her skin, just enough to cradle her. A soft whimpered sob escaped her lips because no one had ever touched her like this before, like she was something precious.

He saw the pain in her eyes—the ache, the exhaustion, the burden she carried alone. And it shattered him. God, if only she knew how much he wanted to take it all from her.

His thumb brushed along her cheek, his expression softened and then he pulled her against him, his arms wrapped arounder shoulders and his chin rested on top of her head. Slowly, her fingers curled around the fabric of his blazer, and just like that the dam broke.

It was silent. The tears did not fall in heaving sobs or desperate cries, but in the way her shoulders trembled ever so slightly. Yoongi did not speak. He only held her tighter. His hand smoothed over her back, and she let herself sink into him just for the span of a single heartbeat.

Then, just as suddenly as she allowed it, she stepped back, breaking away from him. She turned away from him, facing the balcony window, her fingers still curled slightly as if gripping something invisible. And then she took a deep breath and exhaled as if a decision had been made.

She brushed her tears away and turned to him. Yoongi felt his breath hitch because this time, when she looked at him, it was different. There was no hesitation in her eyes. Her lips parted, and the question that left them made his heart skip a beat.

“Do you,” she began, her voice steady but quiet, “still want to?” Yoongi knew immediately what she was saying. And his own promise he had made her—to be patient. But he also knew that this moment was hers to take. He only nodded. Aalia took a slow step toward him. “Do you mean it?” she asked, her voice eerily flat – numb almost.

Yoongi looked down at her as she reached him, his heart twisting at the sound of her voice. He didn’t want this to be a decision made from pain, from exhaustion, from desperation. He wanted it to be hers. Fully and truly hers.

Min Yoongi wasn’t religious, but the words that left him came out like a prayer. “Aalia,” he murmured. “You are the altar at which I would gladly kneel to and repent. You are both my temptation and my salvation. I would kneel not to beg for forgiveness, but to worship the ruin you made of me.” 

He reached out, his fingers barely grazed her cheek in an almost fearful way, as if she would vanish beneath his touch. Her eyes were glassy, reflecting the dim light of the suite, but there was no anger in them, no defiance, no witty words ready to cut him down. Only vulnerability, slipping through the cracks of her carefully constructed walls. And it fucking killed him. She was swallowing her pain like it was something she wasn’t allowed to show. 

Yoongi leaned in, resting his forehead against hers. His breath was steady, but his heart was a violent storm raging inside his chest. “I can wait,” he whispered, his voice so soft it barely disturbed the quiet between them. “I can wait for as long as you want.” His fingers tightened around her cheek, his thumb brushing against her skin in slow, soothing strokes. “I want you to be comfortable with me, Aalia.”

Her breath caught, and she closed her eyes for a moment. She had spent so long living for others, making choices that weren’t hers to make, walking a path that had already been decided for her. But this moment was hers. She wanted Yoongi. Not Lee. Not someone chosen for her. She wanted him. She wanted the man who set her world on fire with a glance.

She hadn’t even realized the tears that escaped until Yoongi’s thumb brushed them away. She wasn’t crying, and the tears weren’t from sadness, nor from pain. They were simply there, slipping silently down her cheeks. “I want to,” she breathed, her voice no louder than the hush of a prayer.

A brutal kind of ache settled deep into his bones and Yoongi exhaled slowly, his fingers twitching against her cheek. She had no idea what she was doing to him, how her words crashed over him like a tidal wave, sweeping away the last of his restraint. “Aalia,” he said, his voice deep, almost pained. “We can take things slow. We can wait—”

“Please.” It was a whisper. "Yoongi." His name from her lips had never sounded so devastating.

He clenched his jaw, his hands trembling with the weight of his own want, his own ruin. “Once I start,” his voice was lower now, rough, dark with warning, “I won’t be able to stop.” His hand slid down to her hip, fingers digging in as he pulled her against him.

She didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her head back, meeting his gaze with something he had never seen in her before. No hesitation “Then don’t stop,” she whispered.

He had been fighting the part of him that wanted to make her his, and now she was standing in front of him, looking at him as if he was the only thing in the world she wanted. His hand slid down to her hip, gripping her tightly, pulling her against him, “I won’t.”

And it wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was fire meeting ice. It was devotion and ruin all at once. Yoongi had kissed her before, but this was something so divine that felt both holy and blasphemous. His lips moved with fierce urgency, devouring hers as if tasting the very essence of heaven. He moaned softly against her mouth and traced his tongue along her bottom lip, and Aalia gasped when he backed her agaisnt the wall. Yoongi took the opening as an invitation. His tongue slid into her mouth.

Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into him as she pulled him closer. He hoisted her up effortlessly, her legs wrapping around his waist and he walked towards the bedroom of the suite where he sat down on the edge of the bed with her straddling him.

He exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against hers for a brief second before tilting his head back to look at her. “I don’t know what to do,” Yoongi’s heart clenched at the innocence in her voice.

He reached up, his fingers brushing over the softness of her cheek. His gaze, dark as midnight, softened. “Follow your instincts,” he murmured. “I’ll guide you.” Aalia exhaled and nodded.

Her hands moved to his shoulders, shaking ever so slightly as she pushed his blazer off. He watched her in silence, allowing her to be in control. Her fingers hesitated at his tie, then at the buttons of his shirt. She fumbled slightly as she undid each one, her touch light, uncertain. Yoongi’s gaze darkened, his chest rising and falling. He did not move and he did not rush her. Instead, he watched her take him apart piece by piece.

She reached the last button and her eyes dropped to his belt.

He tilted her chin up with a single finger. “Keep going,” he said softly, and she did. Her fingers brushed over the leather of his belt, unbuckling it carefully, while his hands, slow and deliberate, reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. The sound of the zip, the quiet rasp filled the room as he dragged it down. His fingers slipped beneath the straps, gliding them down her shoulders slowly. She felt the warmth of his breath a second before his lips pressed against her skin there, a featherlight kiss. 

His hands moved back on her hips, and then, slowly he rocked her against him and she felt it, the hardness in his black pants. Her breath hitched, and her fingers dug into his shoulders. Yoongi exhaled harshly, his control unraveling at the sounds she was making. “Mmm,” a soft moan escaped her.

His eyes darkened and he needed to kiss her again, deeper this time—like he was chasing that sound. He pulled back for a moment and took off her dress completely before his hands found her waist again and he flipped them so she was beneath him. 

He moved back to take his shirt off before he lowered himself again, his lips ghosting over her collarbone, her throat, the trembling curve of her stomach until he was between her legs. Her breath came in shallow gasps as he took her right leg, lifting it over his shoulder.

Her lips parted and a breathless whimper was trapped in the hollow of her throat. Her skin felt like it was burning and her heart stammering against her ribs as if trying to break free. He wasn’t just devouring her—he was worshiping her as though she were something sacred, something meant to be kneeled before. 

Her fingers dug into the sheets, gripping them tightly, before she inhaled sharply and forced herself up onto her elbows, desperate to see him. His inky black hair fell into his eyes, his tongue flicking against her like he was a desert and she the oases.

His gaze was heavy, dark with desire. He met her eyes as his tongue dragged slow and deep, and she choked on a cry, her head falling back. "Fuck," she breathed, and her body collapsed onto the bed, her thigh still over his shoulder while he held the other one down against the mattress. 

He exhaled a dark chuckle against her, and the sound echoed in her bones. "You taste so good." 

"Mmngg, Yoongi," she moaned. The sound alone made him groan against her.

His hand, firm and possessive, slid up her trembling body, reaching for the delicate lace of her bra. He curled his fingers around the fabric, tugging it down until the straps came undone, and he dragged it down so he could touch her breast. Her own fingers wrapping tightly around his wrist, as if to ground herself.

Yoongi smirked against her. Aalia’s breath hitched and she forced herself to look down at him again. Her free hand reached for him, fingers threading through his ink hair, pushing back the strands that had fallen over his eyes. Her body tensed, her breath catching as pleasure built, higher and higher until she could not take anymore.

He pulled away and moved up her body, his hand reached out to hold the side of her face and he kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue and lips. The kiss was hard and hungry as he pressed his body agaisnt hers. His fingers trailed along the side of her face, a gentle caress, before he pressed his forehead against hers. "Promise me," he whispered, “you will tell me if it gets too much, okay? I don’t want to hurt you."

"Mmhm," she nodded, her voice barely above a breath. "I promise."

"Good," he murmured. "I just want to make sure you're comfortable."

 Her fingers trembled as he took her right arm, guiding it around his neck, silently encouraging her to hold onto him. Then, his hand found her left hand and he intertwined their fingers before pressing it firmly against the bed and his thumb brushed over her knuckles. "If it gets too much, you'll tell me, and I will stop," he said. "But if you can’t speak, just squeeze my hand twice."

The tenderness in his touch, eyes and voice made her feel like she could break. She couldn’t stop the small smile on her lips and she nodded. "Yes," she whispered.

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to her lips and he pushed inside her. A sharp, burning stretch made her body tense and her breath caught in her throat. Her nails dug into his skin as she squeezed her eyes shut and a cry escaped her lips before she could stop it. She buried her face in his shoulder.

Yoongi stilled immediately. "Shhh, shhh… look at me," he coaxed gently, his palm cradling her cheek, guiding her to meet his eyes. "Breathe." Aalia exhaled slowly. "Do you want to stop?"

She shook her head quickly, her grip on their intwertwined fingers tightening. His gaze softened and he kissed her as if trying to distract her from the pain. His lips moved against hers slowly, his tongue tracing the seam of her mouth. And then, something shifted. The pain dulled, faded, replaced by something foreign. A warmth that built in slow, pulsing waves. "Mnngg," she moaned, her body arching towards him instinctively.

He groaned at the sound, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, to her throat, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against her skin. He felt her trembling beneath him. “Yoongi,” He had heared her say his name, but the way it sounded now was forbidden fruit dripping in honey. 

He reached down, locking her leg around his torso as he pressed slowly deeper into her, and she moaned louder. “Mmmh, Yoongi.” His fingers twitched and he gripped her thigh harder as he kissed her neck. Her fingers tightened around his hand and he pulled away from her neck to look down at her. 

She was his now. He had taken something from her that he could never be given back. The innocence was gone now. He could feel it deep within him, the weight of what was being done, of what he had just taken. She was his now.

He saw the subtle tremor in her lips, the silent desperation in the way she arched into him. He rested his forehead gently against hers. He could feel she was getting close. He could feel way she clenched around him. 

His hand caressed her lower back, arching her against his hips even more. He kissed her once more until they both broke. Yoongi’s body trembled against hers, and he pressed his forehead to hers as they both rode the crest of their high. 

He pulled her into his arms as he lay back on the bed and buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. His fingers lightly brushed through her hair, the delicate strands tangling around his fingers as he held her close. 

But then, when the morning arrived and he woke up, she was gone. He pushed himself to sit up and he looked around the room, but found no trace of her. A small laugh left his lips as he got up went to get ready before he made his way downstairs to the hotel’s garden where guests took their breakfast to enjoy the summer morning.

And that’s when he saw her sitting off to the side by herself wearing a pastle yellow, floral milkmaid dress that reached just above her knees. Her long hair fell down her back in soft waves and she still had not noticed him.

Aalia was mid-sip of her orange juice when Yoongi sat down in the chair next to her around the round table. But she did not look at him – not directly at least. 

Yoongi sat down beside her, but still, her gaze was fixed stubbornly forward, avoiding his eyes. She was doing her best to act indifferent. The way her fingers tightened around the glass, the slight tension in her posture. His lips twitched, the sight of her endearing. He couldn’t help the spark of amusement that danced in his chest.

“I can still hear your moans,” he murmured, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “It’s all I could think about while I was in the shower.”

Aalia's eyes flickered to him for the first time and she coughed. Yoongi laughed as he leaned back in his chair. She was so easy to fluster, and he liked it.

But then, something inside him shifted and his teasing smile faded, his gaze softened, as the gravity of the previous night hit him once more. She was his now—truly. His thoughts drifted back how she had trembled beneath him, how he had marked her. There was no denying it anymore. She belonged to him, and no matter how many times she tried to run from it, no matter how many walls she built, she would always belong to him.

He leaned forward, his expression softening as he met her eyes with quiet intensity. “We need to talk,” he said softly. Aalia’s fingers trembled for just a moment as she bit the inside of her mouth, looking at him like she was debating whether or not to run away again. But after a moment of silence, she nodded.

Yoongi’s heart beat a little faster, and he sighed, leaning back in his chair. The tension in the air thickened, and he let his gaze soften, studying her. “Are you alright?” 

She held his gaze for a moment before she nodded again. “Good,” he said softly, more to himself than to her. He relaxed a little in his chair, trying to push down the knots that had been forming in his chest. “Last night—”

“I do not regret it,” she interrupted him, her voice calm but firm. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”

He froze, his breath caught in his throat for a moment. Her words sent a strange chill through him, one that he couldn’t quite place. It should have been reassuring, right? She didn’t regret it. But something in her voice made him question it all. Then, his thoughts began to swirl, questions rising in him like the tide. He couldn’t let this go. He needed answers. “Then why for God’s sake did you run away this morning?” he asked, his voice tinged with confusion, almost desperation.

“Because I should be regretting it,” she said quietly, her words carrying a weight that made Yoongi’s heart pound a little harder.

His mind reeled with her response. What did that mean? Why should she regret it? His thoughts raced as he stared at her, trying to make sense of it all. “Why should you regret it?”

“Because this is wrong,” she answered, her voice soft but resolute. “And I could list you a few reasons why this-”

Before she could finish, Yoongi acted on impulse, his hand gripping the edge of her chair, pulling it closer to his side. His thoughts halted, crashing against the weight of her words. Wrong? “You’re mine, Aalia,” he said, his voice low, intense. “Especially after last night. And I don’t care about the professor-student dynamic. I won’t be your professor forever. And that thing your family has orchestrated for you, all I can say is, family be damned. You're mine.”

Please leave a comment and like. Follow for more updates, or read on A03

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64009903/chapters/164201557

[annastrxng]

Anna's narrowed eyes TURN from Abraham hastily. "Face it," she insists bitterly. "It's over." A crushed sob drowns somewhere between the corridor of her throat and quivering lips.

If you're hurt....

His words STING like salt being rubbed relentlessly into an opened and gaping wound. That was quite RICH. Wasn't it? "Oh, so -- NOW--- you're concerned?" The brunette SHARKISHLY asks. "Where were you when your father decided to take EVERYTHING from me? Strong Manor has been ripped from my fingers. I'll no longer get credit for all my labor this spring-- for Selah's Cauliflower. A-- and the Tavern-- I have to work in it, just to stay out of PRISON." She KNOWS it's not fair to lay the fault for this at his feet. YET---he is the closest person to her. The closest person she can LASH out at.

"Worse..." She begins, feeling sick to her stomach. "I have to move into the TAVERN. The same tavern where SIMCOE is billeted. Tell me, how is that PROTECTING ME?!!" She accusingly sobs, shoulders crumbling and shaking under the weight of even her OWN revelation. Sodden lashes faulter downwards in begrudging acceptance of her FATE.

Bile singes her throat. "Should have-" Anna laughs. "Does neither of us any good. Now, does it?" She hates the cruelty in her own ragged voice. "We all FAILED to get rid of him. This--" Her voice grits, "This is to be my comeuppance."

The hated officer follows her, lurking in unsuspecting shadows. He waits on her, taking note of her arrivals and departures.

"Tell Ben that I'm sorry. But I mustn't write nor meet. Not with you or with him---" She moves, abruptly attempting to brush passed him.

        ❝ Of course, it matters. If you’re hurt- ❞ Abe stopped himself before his voice could rise any higher, eager to cut in between her words until he realized exactly what he was saying. Of course, it mattered because if she was hurt, Abraham wouldn’t be able to live with himself. 

        But no, it shouldn’t matter. He was her friend, he wasn’t her lover anymore and while he would be there in her time of need, he had responsibilities (his farm, his wife, and his son). Yet, she had no one. Selah was gone. She had Strong Manor, and responsibilities there. He had Whitehall and his father. When Simcoe was mentioned, Abe’s body tensed. He stood up straight, tension pinched his shoulders up.

        He was her friend, not her lover, yet he cared about her as any good man would.

        ❝ I should’ve killed him in the cellar, ❞ he admits, his eyes flickering down to the moist grass beneath their feet. ❝ Simcoe. I should’ve killed him when I had the chance. ❞ At his core, he wasn’t a killer, but  Simco wasn’t deserving of mercy, not when justice was needed. Anna’s words echo back at him and it makes his stomach twist. Nothing, neither you or I do, is capable of making any difference. 

[lex-loudestwoman]

Kaylor Swiftgron: Which Muse Inspired Which Songs on Red & 1989

On the precipice of 1989 TV's release and amidst the Kaylorification of 1989 TV's rollout, I thought it'd be a good time to figure out which muses aligned to which songs. I did my research, which includes: lyrical analysis & music video analysis, the timing of when songs were written, which producers and co-writers were credited to each song, social media posts, and where the girls were in real time. Shout out to @sophietv for her incredible work on the Kaylor timelines and evidence, and to @swiftgronmasterpost and @swiftgronmasterpost for their work to outline everything from Achele to Rivergron to Swiftgron. Round of applause to you both!!

Let's get into it!! (and if you want to just see my conclusions for which songs are about which muse, scroooolllll to the bottom)

The Red Muses

2011

Red was written in two phases. First, she worked with her producer from Speak Now & Fearless, Nathan Chapman. They wrote 25 songs together between February and October 2011. She took these songs to Scott Borchetta and he congratulated her on a finished album, but she wanted to experiment with other producers and writers to play with new sounds. So, after October 2011 she started working with a handful of other producers to write more tracks for Red. Here's a breakdown of Red songs by producer.

Nathan Chapman:

State of Grace

Red

All Too Well

I Almost Do

Stay, Stay, Stay

Sad Beautiful Tragic

Starlight

Begin Again

The Moment I Knew

Girl At Home

Martin & Shellback:

I Knew You Were Trouble

22

We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together

Message in a Bottle

Bhasker: Holy Ground

Wilson: Treacherous, Come Back...Be Here

Walker: Everything Has Changed

Lind & Bjorkland: The Very First Night

McKenna: I Bet You Think About Me

The first time we know for sure Dianna and Taylor interacted was on September 4th, 2011 at the Fairfax Flea Market, which implied that the songs Taylor wrote with Chapman weren't about Dianna.

Karlie and Taylor dated (I think) starting in the summer or early fall of 2011. I think they weren't expecting anything super serious, but it was one of those flirtations that starts out strong and feels good with them and all of the sudden you're in love and you barely believe it and feel ridiculous for knowing but you have a feeling this person is for you, maybe forever... It sounds right for Taylor who has admitted how fast & hard she tends to fall for people when she's in love.

Taylor attended the Rodarte Spring/Summer 2012 fashion show during NYFW and sat front row next to Anna Wintour on Tuesday, September 13, 2011. Karlie walked in the show (slay). This was also the day that Taylor spent with a Vogue interviewer for her iconic January 2012 Vogue Cover and Article where she is quoted as saying "I love Karlie Kloss! I want to bake cookies with her!" She said this straight after leaving the Rodarte Fashion Show.

Interestingly, Karlie was quoted in a magazine as having been introduced to Taylor Swift at the Met Gala and they joked about baking cookies together! They both attended the Met Gala in May 2011, just four months before the Rodarte Fashion Show/Vogue Interview day! So it's pretty weird that Taylor would say the exact same thing, unprompted, when she saw a photo of Karlie Kloss at a fashion designer's studio on the exact same day she sat front row for a fashion show Karlie walked in!!

I imagine that Taylor and Karlie fell into something new and beautiful and sweet by accident. The Rodarte Show was on a Tuesday, maybe they met up for coffee the next day on Wednesday, September 14th in NYC? Who's to say!

All that said, I think Begin Again is about Karlie. It was written sometime between February and October 2011, which would've been a really, really fast turnaround for it to be about Dianna. Between the music video and the lyrical connections, it's very Kaylor coded. Starlight also could plausibly be about Karlie because they attended the Met together in 2010 and 2011, and their 2011 dresses were sparkly and tbh Karlie looked hot AF.

But, let's also remember that Taylor is on tour and just got herself out of two on-again-off-again, fairly toxic relationships, and as she said herself in Begin Again that the last 8 months she's been heartbroken and scared to get hurt from love (earliest would've been June 2010-February 2011 and latest would've been February-October 2011). Plus she's not even 22 years old, so she's not necessarily good at being in relationships yet. She's in a messy place, and she falls in love like a ton of bricks.

I think that this delicate, precious new thing with Karlie didn't work out (not for malice or hurting each other, just life) and over the winter they were distant but were still in contact.

2012

On January 17, 2012 we get tweets from BOTH Karlie and Dianna about the *iconic* Vogue article. This makes me think:

1. Karlie is still interested in exploring this new relationship with Taylor

2. Dianna and Taylor have kept in touch and have a lil something something going on, a little curiosity they might want to explore

3. Taylor likes public attention, and she likes feeling wanted, and she's got two hot ass women who want her. Do you blame the girl for being messy!?!

Dianna and Taylor attend the same pre-Oscars party on February 24th, 2012, and this is where I think Swiftgron starts to take off. Dianna is all happy and heart eyes online for the next three weeks until the Speak Now Tour ends. They're spotted together frequently in March and April. The Shirley MacLaine birthday party thing happens April 25th, Dianna's circus birthday party is April 28th, and I would bet anything they started hooking up sometime these first two months. I think Holy Ground was written about Dianna's birthday party, with the note on the door with the joke we made, and that was the first day.

Taylor writes Everything Has Changed and Run on May 15th, 2012, with Ed Sheeran, and records both EHC and The Last Time on May 28th, 2012. Everything Has Changed seems Swiftgron (thanks Gaylor twt for helping me figure out that the freckles are IN Dianna's green eyes bc girl bye I was full of questions). The Last Time is almost certainly about Liz.

But Run is very Kaylor coded! The pale blue eyes, use of darling, the laugh like a child (Begin Again), locket, picture frame...

On May 31st, 2012, Dianna is bearding hard with Henry Joost to distract from her appearance with GLAAD. I have a working hypothesis that Taylor Swift hates beards and is not a fan of having to use them or be with people who have them. I just don't think it works for her with how insanely famous she is, the guys are hyperscrutinized and she's honestly not very good at being a convincing heterosexual woman. I think there's some conflict between Taylor and Dianna because of the beard.

By June 10th, 2012, Taylor has written 22, WANEGBT, and IKYWT. I am inclined to believe that WANEGBT is about Emily or Liz. Same thing with IKYWT. 22 is about her besties and living life and being carefree and embracing all of the beauty and pain of falling in and out of love and everything that is your early 20s.

We get the whole Hyannis Port x Kennedys summer week of pap walks featuring Swiftgron all over the place! But it seems like they probably break up later in July. This was a hot and cold relationship for real.

WANEGBT is released on 8/13 and Dianna tweets at Taylor (like never ever?). On September 29, 2012 Dianna and Naya Rivera are on a cheeky, lil sexy vacation in Paris. Taylor goes to Paris that same weekend to film Begin Again at the Love Lock bridge (Karlie is also in Paris but there's no evidence to show that they saw each other at all).

However, I wouldn't put it past Taylor and Karlie to have seen each other while Swiftgron was cold. Perhaps in September 2012 right around when she filmed Begin Again?

October 17, 2012 Taylor writes This Love in LA according to her diary entries. So I think This Love is about the Swiftgron reconciliation for whatever happened this summer. Things are good for a bit, they go to the Ripple of Hope gala together on December 3rd, 2012. They're pictured together on December 6th, 2012 and Dianna's all cryptic online about her secret love.

Quick Aside: Karlie and Josh have been "officially together" ever since June 2012, but they were first seen together in November 2012 when they both attended the VS Fashion Show. I'm under the impression that these gay celebrities in their early twenties only needed a beard when they were in another relationship they were distracting away from. They didn't need a beard, they could just say they were focused on friends and their career (aka 1989 era). So who was Karlie dating in mid 2012 that needed to be covered up with plausible deniability? This would've been in the works for a bit before they launched it in November 2012.

Also, super interesting that Karlie also met Taylor for the "first time" at the 2013 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show, hmm? Anywayssss.

2013

I think everything Swiftgron blew up on February 14th, 2013 with the 'I Do' episode of Glee where Dianna Agron and Naya Rivera hook up on screen. Taylor made a whole big deal about this episode containing one of her songs and encouraged her fans to watch, but her song wasn't in the show (tweet was later deleted). But picture this: Happy Valentine's Day, watch your girlfriend hook up with the girl she told you not to worry about!! And then learn that they actually did hookup when y'all were on a break, like two weeks before y'all got back together!! Oooh boy!! I'm pretty sure this was what inspired Babe (in the music video Taylor was the mistress, but IRL Taylor was the main character who got cheated on instead of the mistress!!).

Dianna is a mess on Twitter after that and there might have been about two months of back & forth, maybe some breakup sex, but I think Swiftgron died dead by the time the article about them secretly dating dropped on April 16th, 2013.

The Red tour started on March 18th, 2013 and I can't imagine that made things any easier for Swiftgron. Meanwhile... I think Karlie and Taylor re-reconnected in this time period.

The 1989 Muses

2013

Taylor wrote 1989 while on tour for Red (except for This Love, according to the diary entry it was written on 10/17/2012). I think the breakup songs are about Dianna and the love songs (excluding This Love) are allllll Karlie.

If Taylor and Karlie did reconnect in Fall 2012, then Spring 2013 would be a long six months later...

Taylor and Karlie "meet for the first time" (which we have so much proof that it's not but like, okay, fine) on November 13, 2013 at the Victoria's Secret Fashion show. We know this isn't their first meeting or flirtationship, but it certainly is their first public outing to test what people say about their friendship.

Then, I'd wager Taylor plays "cat & mouse for a month or two or three" until they officially are girlfriends on March 6, 2014. Yay!!!

Songs About Dianna:

Red: Holy Ground, Everything Has Changed, Come Back...Be Here, Better Man, Babe

1989: Clean, Wonderland, All You Had To Do Was Stay, I Wish You Would

Songs About Karlie:

Red: State of Grace, Treacherous, Stay, Stay, Stay, Starlight, Begin Again, Message in a Bottle, Run, The Very First Night

1989: Welcome to New York, Blank Space, Style, OOTW, Wildest Dreams, How You Get the Girl, I Know Places, You Are in Love, New Romantics

[talesofalethrion]

Spotlight: Mik!

Will Mik choose to accept the dark gifts from the demon Greed or be strong enough to keep it at bay?

If we reach the next stretch goal of our Kickstarter campaign for Tales of Alethrion - Season 3 you'll be able to find out:

We only have 3 days left of this campaign, so it is the last chance to support our campaign 🪕

But back to Mik - a happy-go-lucky bard who travels from town to town, enjoying a good tale that he can put into lyrics and melodies and inspire heroes and crowds all over the realm. His muse, Ken, was a trusted friend who did the damage, while Mik did the singing.

Mik's adventure started in Tohan when he and Ken received a treasure map from the OG iconic duo, Wilhelm and Vito. They then traveled the realm thin before finally finding the X on the map. They found a huge treasure and a mysterious chest. This chest was unfortunately opened and a great evil called Greed was released. This became the end of Ken and the beginning of what could be a dark pact between Mik and Greed...

Art by: Anna Fischer-Larsen, Natasha Sallustio, Nadine Van Baarsen, Mikkel Mainz

[melpomeneprose]

Seconded, unfortunately.

Happy birthday Abraham Woodhull (October 7, 1750)!

[vivianleighwishesshewasme]

Wanna build a snowman

TCGxAnna (OC)

__________________________________________________________

__________Wanna Build a snowman______________________

Charlie could barely contain his excitement. He’d been bugging his parents all day to come out into the white cold barren land of their property and help him build a snowman before his cousins arrived for Christmas Eve. 

Now at six Charlie was a proper boy, but he still needed a hand for the larger snowballs. That’s where his dad came in. 

Mum was pregnant again with what Charlie hoped would be a boy this time. While he loved his little three year old sister, Anna, named for an aunt he’d never met, he needed a boy to teach boy things too. 

Anna had his Da’’s dark hair and sharp blue eyes but mum's sweetness. A proper Shelby gypsy princess. Yuck!

She obviously wasn’t built to help the boy create a snow army. 

Anna would be more interested in being pulled in the toboggan or going for a sleigh ride later. 

Charlie didn’t care about those things. He needed to build a snowman and snowball arsenal before his Uncle John’s boys came over for the weekend. 

He had already loaded his little sister onto the little wooden sleigh and was instructing her to hold the basket properly so the contents to decorate said snow general didn’t spill out as he pulled her along.

“Alright Charlie, come on, let's get a move on to this perfect snowman building spot before you mum and sister freeze to death. 

“Grace raised an eyebrow at him in a silent challenge.” He chuckled, they both knew she wasn’t that dainty. Not after she’d shot Cambell. 

____________________________________________

The Snowman was almost complete, it only needed the carrot nose. 

“Hey, where’d the carrot go?” Charlie frantically searched under the wagon, tossed the basket upside down to shake it. 

His gaze settled on his little raven haired sister.

 She was eating it!!! 

“Anna Helen Shelby, you put down his nose right now!” Charlie stomped his foot indignantly earning soft laughter from his parents. His little fist clenched in anger and his face flushed with more heat than the stinging cold weather could have chapped his sweet cheeks with. 

“Why do girls always ruin your plans? You better have a boy mum, I don't need another princess gaining up on me. Girls!” He stomped towards his confused sister as he snatched the carrot from her hands.

“Charlie Shelby!” His mother scolded him. Tommy laughed and shook his head.

“Women are good at that aren't they Charlie, ruining your plans.” The man grinned cheekily at his pregnant wife who seemed slightly amused by his musings. He liked fiery women. Charlie didn't know it yet but he’d probably fall in love with a strong willed woman too. 

Charlie and Tommy let out a little yelp as they were assaulted with fist sized white snow balls. 

Grace and Anna had declared war on their men. 

Tommy and Charlie happily abandoned the carrot to defend themselves from their beautiful traitors. 

“Girls are trouble.” Tommy stated while charlie grinned at him and nodded. They were indeed.

[applbottmjeens]

EVERYBODY BREAKS

Tags: Remember that Makarov drabble? this is it now, MENTIONS of TORTURE and IMPLIED sexual abuse(?), It's not a great time she clearly went through some shit, Tommy mention, Makarov threatens her baby and she folds :( Phillip mention but he's not showing up in this one. (Maybe I should write a sequel where he saves her?)

Summary: Makarov quickly finishes a dragged on interrogation with a captured Shadow.

They'd been pushing her for almost a day now. Nothing. If they got too close to her head, she'd bite or spit on them.

It took two people to gag her. One to hold her fucking head and try not to let her teeth latch onto you and another to quickly pull it between her teeth.

The fearsome Sergeant Pham of the 141, or should they say…

Regina 2-1. Graves' Queen of Hearts. How her loyalties shifted as soon as her heart was stolen, this once talent in her field, sitting in a chair and glaring at them after finally taking her.

Makarov gazes at the seething woman in his chair, the captured Shadow who'd almost sabotaged his plans. He wears a suit underneath Kevlar, like this is all some fancy business for him as he moves a strand of hair away from glaring brown eyes.

"It's so nice to finally meet you in person, Annabelle." Makarov coos, gazing at the bound soldier. Her dark hair is a mess, her limbs tied to the chair, fists gripping and struggling as she sees Makarov approach her close, a tired, biding anger in her eyes. Bruises and dried blood cover her nose and cheeks, teeth forced to bite into white cloth.

"The gag. What's it for?" Makarov asks his second in command as he looks down at the prisoner before him, putting out his cigarette to inspect the bound woman before him.

"She bites, Commander." Nolan remarks, glancing down at his arm, having made the mistake of exposing it. Her teeth marks are deep, sunk into his skin disgustingly.

The Commander approaches the woman with an amused grin, as if he's witnessing a stray animal caged.

"Look at that. She has spirit," He muses, pulling her by the hair to look into her wild, seething gaze.

"I'm glad you still have that fight in you." He says in English.

No amount of drugs forced down her throat, beatings and men handling her or teeth pulled could do shit. Stubborn, stubborn woman. He seems impressed, given what they'd done.

His voice is poison in her ears, condescending. Filled with superiority. She tries to squirm against him, but he only tugs her hair back to make her stiffen like some dog.

He speaks to Andrei again, and she picks up the words "Fingers" and "Eyeball" and "Mail". Her fault for falling asleep during Russian lessons.

Maybe it's best she doesn't figure out what the rest of his words mean, for her sanity's sake.

“It’s a shame we have to ruin such a beautiful face." He chuckles, her eyes gazing at the boiling kettle in the corner.

"Remove the gag. Get her talking." He commands, and the cloth is removed and spat out of bloodstained teeth and lips.

"Kill yourself." She spat before Makarov laughs, leather gloved hands pulling her hair, forcing Anna to look him in the eye.

“Give us an answer, Sergeant Pham…"

Nothing. Another knife hovers over her hand, bare as the tip nicks the top.

“We'll send all your little fingers to your teammates- old and new..." Makarov whispers, looking Anna square in the eyes as he speaks slowly.

"Maybe even a little souvenir for your son, to have a piece of his mother with him…"

Her breath hitches. He found the weak point. “A young mother like you risking everything she has… It’s brave. It’s mothers like you that make strong sons.” He muses, mock praise leaving his lips as the knife presses slowly onto her hand.

“You shut your mouth-"

“Little Sylas Thomas is such a strong boy��”

“You shut your goddamn mouth, I swear-”

“Please, Sergeant Pham. Little Tommy wouldn’t want to lose his mother before he could even run from gunfire.”

“STAY AWAY FROM MY SON YOU FUCK!"

“Talk, Annabelle.”

He speaks like she's a petulant child, his tone patronizing. Like she's just having a little tantrum.

“..Fine…” She sobs, trembling as she’d collapsed. She hopes they kill her. She’d rather they were bluffing about Tommy than risk him ever being put into danger. She sings like a bird.

All that physical torture was mostly an experiment. For fun. The knowledge of her son was the card up their sleeve.

Fucking cheap move, Konni. She stares at the lamp upon the ceiling, cold air coming in when they leave, making her hyper aware of how exhausted she is.

Her mind thinks of Tommy, her boy, his squished face and almond eyes that light up when she sings to him.

Would she get to see her son again? Would Phillip really waste resources to rescue her?

No. She could rescue herself. She'd done this before. She's crawled out of trash and bodies dumped out in the sun. She'll leave this place a bloodbath. Dying is the least they could do for even speaking her son's name.

Đụ má...These men and their goddamn audacity.

She was gonna make Nolan regret keeping her teeth. She still had some bite in her after all…

-

Đụ má - "motherfucker"