#twenty is apparently an old age to get marriage proposals at | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

greatideas-badwriter · 11 months ago

Text

SasuSaku: Sacrificed To The Banished Prince Chapter 1

Sixteen. That's the age that a person reaches adulthood in Konoha. It's also the age when most sons and daughters get paired up for arranged marriages. The same can't be said for Sakura, though. No, at twenty-two years old, she's never received a single offer, largely due to the fact that her existence isn't known by many. As the illegitimate child of Baron Haruno and a traveling dancer, the poor young woman was brought up as little more than a slave. Most maids are treated with more care.

Sakura is the eldest of the Baron's four children. Just three years younger than her is Hihara, the family heir and only son. With blood-red hair, emerald green eyes, and tan skin, he received nearly thirty marriage proposals on the morning of his sixteenth birthday. He married Duke Hyuga's second daughter, Hanabi, though he remains in the Haruno estate while she stays at the castle. Apparently, their dislike of one another is mutual.

Next, there's Haruka, the most beautiful Haruno daughter. She has the family's red hair, long and flowing down her back, sparkling blue eyes, and a figure others can only dream of having. Her sixteenth birthday was two months ago, and she's been taking her time selecting a husband out of the many proposals.

In reality, Sakura knows Haruka's only holding out because when she's been wed, she'll have to move in with her new husband, and it's likely she won't be as coddled as she is at home. Haruka is a daddy's girl through and through. She's spoiled and mean but does a great job of appearing charming in front of others.

Finally, there's Hana, the youngest daughter. Unlike Hihara and Haruka, Hana is sweet and kind. At fourteen, she's soft-spoken and intelligent. She's the only sibling who doesn't mistreat Sakura. The two share a love for reading novels and often bond by discussing them.

After twenty-two years of being treated awfully, Sakura's spirit is beyond broken. With dull green eyes and an ever-present solemn expression on her pale face, the woman does what she's told and tries not to draw attention to herself. Any personality she had to speak of was squandered long ago.

"You should be thanking me. My father allowed you to stay here even after your slut mother ran off and got herself killed," Haruka shoved Sakura to the ground. The pinkette didn't try to defend herself because she knew by now it would only make things worse.

The middle siblings often find reasons to bully her, even if they have to make something up. This time, Haruka insisted the woman glared at her. It didn't happen, obviously.

"Here," the redhead lifted her flowing dress enough that her feet were visible and pointed one out toward Sakura, "Kiss it. Tell me how grateful you are."

Tears threatened to rise in Sakura's eyes, but she blinked them back. Gritting her teeth, she crawled closer to do as ordered, only to freeze when their father's voice rang through the long hallway, "Girls, quit playing and come to my office."

A tiny cry escaped Sakura when her hand was suddenly stomped on by Haruka's heel. She snatched it away to her chest when able and struggled to her feet with a low gaze. It was bleeding. She quietly followed her younger sister.

"What do you need this trash for?"

They stood before the Baron's desk, Hihara and Hana already present and waiting. The stern man held up a piece of parchment with an unfamiliar seal in dark blue, "There has been a proposal that cannot be declined." He set it on the desk before him and interlaced his fingers with his elbows resting, "The second Uchiha heir demands a wife from us."

Sakura expected Haruka to be excited because, as far as she was aware, none of her other suitors had a name even close to as powerful as "Uchiha". To her surprise, she wasn't. "No, Daddy, please! Don't make me!"

"This is outrageous! How many women has he gone through already, Father? Surely there's something you can do?" Hihara added.

The Baron lifted a hand to silence the room, "Sakura."

Sakura's eyes lifted in surprise, only to drop quickly down again, "Yes, Father?"

"You'll go."

Haruka gasped before laughing loudly, "That's perfect! Send the garbage to her death in my place. Thank you, Daddy!"

The pinkette couldn't help but ask, despite knowing it'd upset at least her siblings, "To my death…?"

Hihara responded, "Countless women have been sacrificed as wives to him already. Receiving a proposal means certain death by the monster's hand." When Sakura met her brother's eye in disbelief, he smirked, "Thank you for your sacrifice, dear sister."

After being raised under the idea that she was nothing, Sakura didn't argue. She didn't fight back when Haruka visited her bedroom later that night to beat and mock her. She didn't even shed a tear upon being bathed and dolled up like some kind of princess the next morning, only to be put into a carriage and immediately sent to the most northern part of Konoha, where snow covered the ground, and the air was cold enough to hurt bare skin.

'If only I wasn't about to be killed, I'd be so relieved to finally be away from everyone,' Sakura mused while watching the trees pass outside. 'Wait, why aren't we going East, toward the castle?' This was the first time she'd been permitted to leave the estate, so she was still happy regardless.

She looked at her hands with a grimace. Her nails were trimmed and painted a soft white, but there's no hiding the scars and callouses from the hard work she'd been forced to do.

'Will he kill me immediately, or will he want to consummate the marriage beforehand?' To say she was frightened is putting it lightly. Sakura didn't know what consummate meant, but Father told her before she left to expect it and that it was her duty as a wife.

"We're here, Lady Haruno," the driver interrupted the woman's train of thought. Sakura's spine straightened as the door to the carriage opened. She was helped outside by the frowning man. He removed her luggage and sat it by her feet, tipped his hat, and left her there on the side of the dirt road.

"W-Wait!" It was futile. She was alone.

The confused woman looked behind her, only to swallow hard. There, at the end of the lengthy trail she'd been left at, stood a mansion. It was black as night and gothic in style. Every window was dark and covered with curtains. The grass and garden were dead, the leaves from the bare trees lying unraked and messily mixed into the snow to make it a dirty brown color.

'Is this really the home of a member of the royal family?'

She carried her heavy suitcase, struggling all the while, up the path until she reached the door, where she hesitated. Before she could decide what to do, the door opened to reveal a pale-skinned man with dull eyes and a tense smile, "You're trespassing. State your business or leave the premises."

'What? Is this not the right place?'

"I'm the eldest daughter of Baron Haruno." Sakura bowed politely as the maids instructed her last night.

The man's eyes widened, and he cocked his head to the side, "You're Lady Haruno?"

She nodded, attempting to remain composed under his watchful gaze.

He studied her in silence for a moment before holding the door open and gesturing inside, "Follow me. Don't touch anything."

A second man wordlessly approached, took her suitcase, and followed the duo into the large home. The floors were bright white, the tile shiny enough to reflect the lights even though they were dim. Dark violet wallpaper with an elegant black design covered the walls. Expensive-looking vases and ornaments decorated the hallway, each one probably worth more than everything Sakura owns combined. "

Wait here." The young woman nods, bowing her head politely when the pale man spares her a glance.

It was silent between her and the second butler for the entirety of their wait, almost ten minutes. The pinkette begins to feel lightheaded. She wasn't offered any food before being sent off by her family, and her body has always been weak due to the neglect and abuse she suffered all these years.

Just as she began worrying she'd have to ask the silent man nearby to show her somewhere to sit, the original butler reappeared.

He held out a thin black envelope. "Usotsuki will show you to your room."

'What is this? A letter? Where is the prince? Will he not come out to kill me now?'

The confusion must've been obvious because he curtly explained, "Lord Uchiha forbids you from visiting the third floor of the estate, where his quarters are located. Until further notice, you'll begin planning the wedding. That letter contains an official greeting."

The next thing Sakura knew, she was alone in a massive, dark bedroom. It took mere minutes to hang the three dresses she owned in the wardrobe. Inwardly, the woman was terrified the murderous prince would come to kill her in the middle of the night, but she was also wondering if maybe things would be better that way. If he did it while she was asleep, then at least she wouldn't have to suffer anymore.

Lighting a candle at the desk near the bed, Sakura sat in the large chair and opened the letter from her soon-to-be husband. Intricate, neat handwriting met her gaze. Tears welled in her eyes as she read it.

"Lady Haruno, thank you for agreeing to travel to my home without an escort. Your cooperation is greatly appreciated. As for our engagement, allow me to clearly explain my intentions. We will not be married. His Royal Highness has demanded I search for a fiance, which is why you've been summoned. However, I do not agree with his demands."

"While I am certain your stay here will be temporary, please inform any of the staff of your needs, and I will see to it that they are met. I ask for your patience as I devise a plan to return you to your family. Please allow me one month to remedy the situation. In the meantime, you will need to act as though our wedding is inevitable. I understand that I'm asking a lot, but it's for both of our sakes. I do not wish to be married, and you likely do not wish to be married to a man like me."

A signature at the bottom of the letter read "Sasuke Uchiha".

Sakura's heartbeat soared in a panic.

'No! No, this can't be happening!'

If she returned home in a month, unwed, her family would be enraged. With shaking hands, the woman fumbled through the desk for a pen and paper, quickly writing a response.

"My Lord, your honesty is appreciated in this stressful situation. Please allow me to return the gesture with unsullied words. While I'm sure you have personal reasons as to why you wish to remain a bachelor, I beg your reconsideration. For my own reasons, I cannot allow this marriage to fail. Let us be wed as His Highness requests. Use me as a defense against further such demands. Whether you discard of me or not, I am fine with whatever outcome so long as our families are fooled."

Sakura would rather be brutally murdered by this mysterious prince than return home. She was sent here to die, and if she didn't do that, the punishment would certainly have her begging for death.

Hesitantly, the woman opened the door to her room and tiptoed into the hallway until she saw two maids passing by, "Excuse me, but can you please deliver this to Lord Uchiha?"

The maids looked at her with wide eyes. One of them gingerly accepted the letter, "As you wish, Ma'am." The pair bowed politely before scampering off, whispering excitedly to one another.

Sakura watched them for a moment before returning to her room with a sigh.

That was the nicest any staff had ever treated her. She fully expected them to hit or at least yell at her. Her body trembled with fright as she climbed into the comfortable bed and curled into a ball. One way or another, her life would soon be over.

#naruto #naruto fanfiction #narutofanfic #narutofanfiction #sakura #naruto shippuden #sakura uchiha #haruno sakura #sasusaku fic #sasusaku fanfiction #uchiha sasuke #sasuke #sasusaku #sakura haruno

28 notes · View notes

retaliationrp · 2 years ago

Photo

Why do the young poets all write about Persephone? Maybe it’s because they can relate to being half sunshine and half grave.

𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄: Aysel Dilan Karademir 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 & 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐒: cis woman & she/her 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 35 𝐎𝐂𝐂𝐔𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: owner of Soif 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: Civilian 𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐊: N/A 𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌: Deniz Baysal

+ adaptable, hard-working, resourceful - stubborn, proud, private

TW: ABUSE, VIOLENCE, DEATH, MURDER

Aysel is the only child that came out of Halim and Leyla’s torrid relationship. Although both sides of her family had immigrated from Turkiye, the brunette was born in Lancaster, AZ. Growing up, there wasn’t much to be said about her family, except for she hated being part of it. First, all that her father had ever known was violence and in so many ways, it passed along to his family. Being part of the Wild Coyotes, the Great Divide brought many changes in the man, most of them not worthy of being praised. Halim was too explosive to handle his relationships with love and care. The way he acted around other women was like he didn’t have anyone to go home to, and Leyla was so trapped in this vicious cycle of infidelity, domestic violence, and hate that on the first chance she got, she left Lancaster to never again be seen, thus leaving the three-year-old Aysel to be raised by the heavy hands of her father.

She spent most of her childhood and teenage years running around the clubhouse. Passed along from hand to hand of the women who wanted to be in touch with the Wild Coyotes, this was how life was for Aysel. Despite the Wild Coyotes treating her with care and being more like fathers and mothers to her than her parents had ever done, the only time Aysel actually felt like she had a father was when, in his eyes, she’d done something wrong. Her teenage years were even worse, especially after she started her sexual life. Her father grew more violent, and before she ended up becoming another number in these statistics she would see on tv, just like her mother, Aysel also packed her bags and left town in the back of a motorcycle, with the promise she would never set foot in Lancaster ever again.

Life away from Lancaster didn’t mean it was an easy one. She struggled to get by without a high school diploma. Aysel moved from town to town, working small jobs and earning less than she was paying to survive. Eventually, she managed to get her GED and with that, slightly better jobs, but still not enough to call it a decent life she knew she deserved. Aysel wanted to go to college, to be anything and everything her parents never were, including one simple thing: happy. She wanted to love, to live, and to scream to the world that she was not a walking tragedy, in spite of what life had made her out to be. She was bigger than her past, better than her wounds, louder than the silence in her chest.

The change came in the form of someone her roommate at the time had introduced her to when Aysel was around twenty-one years old. An older man, divorced, with no apparent kids, who had more money than Aysel had ever seen in her life and, who had taken an interest in her after seeing her one night at the fancy bar she worked at. At first, things were good between them. Despite their almost thirty-year age difference, Aysel saw this as an easy way out of her life of misery. She would take his gifts, pretend to enjoy the time they spent together, and even, she made him believe that she was deeply in love with him. In return, he paid for her college. She ended up graduating in Marketing and was hopeful that the year following her graduation would also bring her a better life. She just wasn’t expecting it to be in the form of a marriage proposal during a surprise birthday party her so-called lover had thrown for her, in which they were surrounded by his friends, clients and so on.

Although Aysel accepted right away because she didn’t want to publicly humiliate him, it took her a few days to decide whether this was the kind of loveless-but-comfortable life she wanted to live, or not. Eventually, her comfort and self-preservation ended up winning and two months later, the two tied the knot in a simple ceremony, surrounded by everything money could buy. However, getting married seemed to have flipped a switch in her husband, who became more possessive and rougher throughout the following months. Aysel was no longer allowed to do things she normally did or talk to people she regularly talked.

It was like living in her parents' marriage twenty-ish years later without having much recollection of it.

The fits of anger, however, were hard to forget. The make-up covering up wounds to go out of the house as a teenager, the readjustment of her hair so no one would notice in school… Once again, Aysel needed to get out. But being married to someone with as much money as her husband had, also meant she didn’t have many people to help her. She knew for a fact that couldn’t simply disappear, or he would go after her and things would end up much worse.

To this day, she still doesn’t know whether this was fate or pure luck that presented itself in the form of a heart attack, but as her husband was rushed to the hospital with her in the back of the ambulance with him, the gears in Aysel’s head started working in her favor. Being raised in the world of crime had taught her how to do her research diligently and to know how to leave no tracks behind. She remembered being taught how to fire a weapon by the guys at the clubhouse if she needed to. She remembered her adolescence being filled with ways to fend for herself, and yet, the simplest one seemed to come not from the brutality of the gang, but from one of the women who hung around her father: aconite. She remembered being told about the plant and what it could do to someone, in case she needed to handle her father properly.

A decision had been made. She bought a beautiful vase of aconite to welcome her husband home after being discharged from the hospital, and when he was cleared to go back to work, Aysel mixed a generous dosage of the flower into his morning coffee and hoped for the best. A few hours later, she received a call from the police saying her husband had been involved in a fatal accident. She mixed the rest of the aconite with water and poured it down the drain, then left home to play the grieving widow.

After her husband’s death had been ruled an accident due to his heart condition, Aysel’s life seemed to be fine again. The relief that exhaled from her lips when she hung up the phone was as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She split the inheritance money with the man’s ex-wife and remained in the city for a few more months before moving away again.

Aysel moved on. She started working again, started dating again, she worked out, she ate healthily… life was good. It became even better when, four years ago, she received a visit from someone she had never seen before. Someone who claimed to have known her father, and who gave her the news that would force her to break her promise and return to Lancaster: her father had died. Halim died of natural causes, during the night, and he had been found by one of his lovers the following morning.

To set his things in order, Aysel traveled to Lancaster. She sold his old business property to a new owner, his old house, and everything that could tie her to this place. Her arrival wasn’t as quiet as she hoped it would be. Her father being who he was, it made people talk. Old faces admired her growth, new faces tried to get whichever information they could out of her, and Lancaster just… little by little, in the month that followed her arrival, made her feel like she could try and dip her feet back into these waters.

And so, she stayed.

She bought a property and renovated it into what is SOIF, with its pretty walls and fancy bottle shelves. She bought herself a nice house and installed a decent security system, fell in and out of love with a few decent people, adopted a cat, and managed to create a name for herself in town, despite the shadow that her father’s last name still cast on it. It was best to be known as a dead man’s daughter, who could both mean safety and harm, but that had meaning in a town like this than to carry around a dead weight of a name.

#dark rp #mature rp #crime rp #oc rp #original rp #litterate rp #town rp #semi appless rp #death tw #abuse tw #murder tw #c.all #c.civilian

0 notes

slytherinnbitch · 3 years ago

Text

Day 7: Proposal

Since this marks one week, this is going to be extra long!

"Goodbye love," Draco says as he leaves Grimmauld Place a little late.

Harry was dressing when he left him in the room, he casts a tempus charm just outside the door. It's almost noon, Salazar knew why Harry didn't even bat an eyelid at his late morning.

He apparates to the Maya Magal in London, it's apparantly the best place to get engagement rings and both Pansy and Hermione vouch for it.

A handsomely dressed woman, probably Draco's age, greets him at the door and takes him inside.

"What would you be looking for today, sir?" she asks politely.

"Engagement rings, thank you."

"Do you have any choice or maybe a reference picture?"

"No, just something light and simple would do. He doesn't like heavy jewels or jewels for that matter." Draco says, belatedly realising that he used the masculine pronoun instead of the neutral one, Hermione had told him that Muggles didn't always see eye to eye with same gender relationships like Wizards and Witched did.

But the lady doesn't even hesitate before giving him a smile and leading him towards the middle of the store. She starts showing him a myriad of rings- all of them elegant and classy with intricate designs but nothing that would suit Harry.

After almost four hours of looking at almost each and every ring in the shop, he picks a simple band which a mixture of platinum and gold with tiny diamonds adorning it's edges. He immediately knows that this is it.

The lady smiles at him again, not a single sign in her face saying that she is frustrated or annoyed that Draco took such a long time.

"Would you like to engrave something on the inside?"

"Yes sure." Draco replies, he instantly knows what he wants. In the end, the lady- Lara tells him to come back in two hours for the ring to be ready and he thanks her and gets going.

A tempus charm shows him that he has about three hours to get home before Harry starts to suspect anything and that's plenty of time. He apparates to the cementry in Godric's hollow.

"Hello," he greets James and Lily as he sits down beside their grave on the ground, "So I wanted to ask you for Harry's hand. I know it's an ancient practice and well, you are dead but I want to do this right. I was raised this way and I'm rambling."

He takes a moment conjure some flowers before he starts talking again, "So I want to marry your son. Why should he marry me? I don't know that. Merlin, I don't even know why he loves me. Me, who is an angry arsehole to everyone and who never smiles. Weasley's definition not mine, just so you know. I can tell you why I love him though? Maybe that will be enough to convince you both. Harry, he has always been my guiding star. I don't know how but even in school when we were at each other's throats, he had been someone constant, someone always there. No matter in what way, just there. And afterwards, the war where well you know things happened and I was so bloody naive but he was there as well. He had been my only hope back then, that Harry might be able to save all of his from the doom which was Vol-voldemort. And he did, he even initiated the house unity in Eighth year and then we got seperated because of our careers and look at us now. Both working at the Ministry and even our departments are connected, somewhat. I'm an Unspeakable, you see. You would know that Harry is Head Auror but not about me. I don't know when that star, that hope became my everything. Slowly, but consistently. We grew closer and I can't imagine a day without him anymore. At the end of the day, I need to be around him else I can't fall asleep.

It's been almost twelve years since the war but some scars remain. I'm really hoping that you would look past those and forgive me and accept me as your son's husband-if he says yes that is. Maybe this is all in vain, Harry might just say no and that will be that. But I'm trying not to focus on the negatives right now. Thank you for your sacrifices and thank you so much for giving this world such a kind hearted, selfless person. Thank you for my Harry." He finishes at last, his eyes are slightly tinging but that's alright. No one's here to see him like this anyways.

He talks to them somemore, about everything about him and Harry and how much he loves him and how he would never let Harry feel like he did throughout his childhood and how he plans on proposing Harry on the anniversary of their tenth year together.

Its about 6pm when he leaves the graveyard and goes to pick up the ring.

.........

As soon as Harry hears Draco call out his goodbye, he takes out his notepad from under the socks in the drawer and checks everything he needs to do in order for everything to be perfect tomorrow.

Pick up ring

Ask the parents

Check in with Hermione and Pansy

Order the flowers

He makes goes to the Wizarding Jewelry Place first and asks for the ring.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The ring is ready and just how you asked it to be. I'll bring it right out," the old man says, who Harry got to know was the owner of the shop from Pansy.

He comes out after several moments and in his hands is a small jewelry box, with intricate golden work over the black satin. The man opens the box and shows Harry the ring, it's perfect with its platinum and gold band and a heavy diamond in the middle of it, he checks the inside and yes, the inscription is just how he had wanted it to be.

He thanks the man and hurries to Wiltshire after making his payment.

He apparates just outside of the Manor gates, after all these years it's fairly easy to enter. The Manor has transformed drastically, and Narcissa and surprisingly, Lucius's warm welcome behaviour had helped immensely.

He had been shocked when he met Lucius as Draco's boyfriend for the first time since the war, it had been after two years of dating Draco and he had been invited over. Gone was the bigoted, slimy bastard he knew, this Lucius was still as much of an arsehole but not the same one. They were not friendly exactly, but he liked to think that he and Lucius got along nowadays. Well it's almost been eight years so he guessed with time anything was possible.

The gates opens to him without any sort of hindrance. Just as he was going to knock on the door, Mipsy opens it and pokes her head out.

"Mipsy is here to greet Harry Potter. Who does Harry Potter like to meet? Master Draco isn't here today."

"Yes, Mipsy I'm aware that Draco isn't here. I'm here to meet Lucius and Narcissa actually." He explains, Mipsy nods her head and vanishes with a small pop, only to return twenty seconds later, and asking Harry to follow her to the parlor.

"Harry, dear. What do we owe this pleasure to?" Narcissa asks as he enters the room.

"Sure you haven't lost your way here? Draco doesn't live here any longer." Lucius says at the same time.

"Yes, Lucius I haven't lost my way and I know Draco doesn't live here any longer, since you know, he lives with me now," he retorts back- Merlin it's weird enough calling Lucius by his name in his head, it's weirder when he says it out loud. "I actually wanted to ask for something."

"See Cissa, I told you he had ulterior motives after all," Lucius says as he looks over Harry suspiciously.

"Oh Lucius, why don't we hear out the young man before you start with all your nonsense." Narcissa says and she waves her hand towards Harry in a way to tell him to continue.

"I want to ask for Draco's hand in marriage." Harry blurts out, the silence that follows is deafening. He looks from Malfoy to the other, both of them seem to be in an intense conversation which is being spoken through their eyes.

It's Lucius who breaks the silence at last, "Why do you want to marry our son? Why should we allow you?"

"Because I love him, I know it can't be as simple as that but that's the gist of it. I love your son with my whole being. I can't imagine a day where I can't see his face or without his insults which have somehow become a constant as well. I tried to find the many reasons for which I should deserve to marry him, I can't find one. But I want to, I want to be deserved enough to marry Draco Malfoy. I want to make him happy for the rest of his life and I want to do this right for once, that's why here I'm asking permission for his hand because even though it doesn't matter nowadays. Draco loves tradition and for him, this is of great significance and I want everything to be right this time." Harry finishes and when he looks over at them, because he had said most of that looking at the carpet, Narcissa's eyes a bit glassy and Lucius who never shows emotion, is actually beaming at him.

"Very well then, Harry. You have both our permission to marry our son and we both would be honoured to welcome you into the Malfoy family. I...I might have been wrong about you afterall." Lucius says and coming from him it's high praise. He is glad both of them and he tells them so and both of them smile fondly at him. They make him stay for tea and afterwards wishes him luck as he floos to Diagon Alley to meet Hermione and Pansy at the new cafe.

"So you got the parents blessings then?" Pansy asks as she takes a sip of her firewhiskey mixed coffee.

"Yup"

"And you have the ring?" Hermione questions as she sets down her wine glass. Seriously is this a cafe or a pub?

"Right here!" He shows them the ring and they coo over it for a minute. "Is this place even a cafe or is that just for the name?"

"It's a cafe and bar, of sorts. They provide a mixture of normal drinks but add alcohol to it. You should try the vodka and peach drink. It's absolutely perfect." Pansy answers as she calls over a waiter.

"No thank you, Pans. I have to go back to my boyfriend who shouldn't even suspect that I have been anywhere but work today. Do you have anything non-alcoholic?" He directs the last question to the waiter who has come.

"Yes, right about everything can be non-alcoholic or purely alcoholic as well. The mixtures are just out speciality."

"Oh then....you know what give me a vodka and peach drink. I deserve it after spending an entire afternoon with two Malfoys." Harry says. The waiter suppresses his amusement and goes to get his order.

Pansy and Hermione snicker at him, "Oh shut it. As if you both wouldn't do the exact same."

They are still chuckling as he discusses the details of the date he had set up for tomorrow. Nowhere public because neither of them liked that, so instead he had picked up a picnic spot for tomorrow night. It would be great fun to propose in the middle of night with only the moons and stars providing them light.

Pansy and Hermione were incharge of setting everything up and they would also be telling Draco that it was a joint anniversary gift to them and they had informed Harry as well. It was the perfect ploy and no one would suspect a thing.

"Alright, the two of you. Enjoy your night, go home safely. I need to get going if I want to make it home before him." Harry says as he gets up and kisses both their cheeks one by one.

"Ron and Blaise will be here shortly so you need not worry about it, darling. We'll be alright on our own till then." Hermione says back and Pansy adds,"Draco never comes home early so you needn't worry about it."

Seriously these two are in so much sync that it terrifies him at times.

He steps out of the cafe and on a impromptu decision apparates to Godric's hollow instead.

...

Draco apparates directly inside the Manor Gates after picking up the ring.

Tabota greets him and tells him that his parents are in the third floor parlor. He makes his way quickly-he doesn't have much time left, he needs to be quick now.

"Hello, love. What a pleasant surprise!" Mother says as he enters.

"Hello Mother," he says and then nods towards his father, "Father,"

"Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. I wanted the Malfoy signet ring." Draco says, getting to the point quickly.

"But I can see you wearing yours, son." Father says.

"Yes I know. I'm- I'm proposing Harry tomorrow." He announces and he is confused by their identical expressions of surprise and then repressed mirth. He didn't except that.

"Is that so?" Father says as he tilts his head, "Very well then, I'll go get it." He leaves the room and Draco is left with his Mother.

"I'm so happy for you, my darling." She says as she comes closer and hugs him.

"Well, I hope he says yes, else..." Draco replies as he hugs her back.

"Oh I'm sure he won't." Father replies as he enters the room. That was surprisingly quick.

"Here you go, son. I'm sure Harry would be quite delighted." He hands Draco the ring and engulfs him in a rare hug as well. Draco can't believe it, his parents approve. Not that he didn't know that, but it's different to know that so explicitly.

"Thank you. I need to get going now. Goodbye." Draco says, his parents murmur their byes and he apparates directly to Grimmauld Place.

Harry's yet to be home, so he decides to hide his ring and take a long bath.

Tomorrow is going to be perfect!

@cupofsquirrelfan hope you like this!

Day 6: Braid || Day 8: Tattoo

Part 2 and Part 3 of Proposal

Requests open || Let me know if you want a part 2 of this

123 notes · View notes

queerian · 3 years ago

Text

a roundup of things i have screamed at my friends on discord about CH Cherryh’s Invader

this is the second book in the Foreigner series, some mild spoilers may be contained within, but honestly, the whole series is just one long Bren Cameron and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

also forgive me for misspelling anything, i read Foreigner last year but i’m listening to Invader on audiobook so the spellings are not in my recent memory buffer

It’s so funny how Bren is always focusing on the wrong things I love it so much He understands so much and so little

Jago, banichi, tano, algini, ilisidi, cenedi, and the lady damiri’s entire household staff: my poor little meow meow the paidhi Bren: what a shame that the atevi have no word or concept of friend or love Also Bren: you have to understand, nadiin, that humans don’t have the biological imperative of association or manchi.

Jago, extremely offended that barb dumped Bren: that bitch Bren: I could never think that Jago considers me a friend. She’s atevi Bren, describing jago and banichi in such loving language but they could never love me back

This is the funniest take on pining

@darling-child-tisarwat here’s my favorite bren line ever tho i think it’s from book 1: “we have to like somebody, we’re bound to like somebody, or we die, banichi, we outright die.” not dramatic at all

Me: He’s so dramatic and has NO IDEA he’s so obsessed with conveying the right micro nuances He had NO CLUE

bren: gets injured, yeeted to mospheira and back in 24h, deals with pain and planetary and personal and professional crises, doesnt sleep or take meds, absolutely gluts himself on information overload and stress banichi: i will lay down my life to protect this delicate and dramatic little thing

@sylvanauctor jago: i'll never betray you nand'paidhi bren: she's just saying that to be nice

God I just realized he must be in his twenties He’s a baby!!! (i say this with all the creaky age of a 31 year old) Apparently he’s 27 in inheritor

Shannon: Can’t stop imagining Banichi and Jago as the confused but loving coparents of a very excitable little dog. Something fluffy and yappy

Me: fhsdfhgfd gotta make sure his little outfits and hair ribbons are all just so brencameron frisé banichi and jago to other atevi who dont know the paidhi: he's temperamental but he's very darling once he gets used to you. and so terribly loyal!

Shannon: He’s not committing a terrible faux pas on purpose, he’s just a little puppy!

Me: paidhi bren cameron: god. i'm so sorry. i pissed on the carpet. i'm SO sorry

bren: jago what is going on. where's banichi jago: *crickets* banichi: *shows up 45 minutes late with starbucks* gaslight girlboss gatekeep

bren: god. im so sorry. i'm such an idiot. god. you must all think me SUCH a clumsy fool tano: literally everyone here is pulling for you what the fuck bren: i cant fail at this terribly important job. i MUST say the right words. it's terribly important that i dont fuck this up tano: you've received two proposals of marriage and several bags of mail from school children

bren: they have no concept of friendship every atevi except jago, banichi, and tabini: i shouldnt be telling you this but-

@cassyblue/Erin: im still mad that bren is straight like that man is at least bi

me: i have not gotten to any point that confirms or denies this please let me live in blissful ignorance sure he's only mentioned dating a woman but he's clearly in love with both jago and banichi this is another reason he is hilariously adjacent to ivan vorpatril in my head (the other reason is how they think about/mentally categorize the overload of incoming mail)

Erin: Hes like Ivan if ivan didnt grow up in a toxic masculinity world

Me: bren: at home on mospheira no one gives a fuck about politics as long as their vacations arent affected ivan: literally everything about my life is dominated by politics Erin: i dont think Bren could survive alys hed just got mowed over

Me: ALYS. ILISIDI.

#invader #cj cherryh #cherryh #foreigner series #ancillari reads #queerian

16 notes · View notes

sasa-gay-yo · 4 years ago

Text

Levi At Your Wedding

Request / Summary: I loved the promise ring one so much and I was wondering if you could write one about Levi's wedding with reader?

Timeline: Timeskip

Warnings: some swearin’ and mentions of NSFW

Art Credits: AoT

It was nothing big because you two didn’t want it to be. Still, he was apprehensive. No, it took you months to convince him to let people even come to the wedding. The word wedding took even longer to enter his vocabulary. He probably was the last one to say it, even thought it was his wedding. At night, as you’d lay together, you’d talk about the flowers Hange wanted to put in your bouquet, or how Historia offered to buy clothes for you since you and Levi’s had acquired relatively primitive lifestyle in peacetimes, and he would almost fall asleep to it. You found it somewhat insulting, and had to ask him every day, ‘Do you really want to get married to me?’

Levi was never big on marriage and really knew nothing about it. No one around him was married, they were dead or under the age of twenty. He told you once, before these perfect years of peace and industrialization, that he didn’t see the concept of marriage necessary. People had all slowly learned that you were in a relationship with Captain Levi and that was that. He say nothing more concrete than the people knowing and respecting that. What was a paper going to do to change that?

One night, however, he convinced himself. He realized the necessity. The night before Historia granted them their honorable titles. He had been able to sit and process what happened at Shiganshina with you at his side. You held his hand and rubbed his back for hours and he let the tears fall for all his dead comrades, especially Erwin. You reassured him, and made him feel like he didn’t have to join his comrades out of guilt. He had nine others to care for and a country to build. He was needed. You needed him the most. He made love to you then. You were something he never wanted to lose, and he made sure you knew that.

It was then, buried inside of you, that he realized why people got married. He said it then and there too. It wasn’t a big proposal, and he didn’t have a ring and again didn’t know the concept of proposals, but he didn’t need one. After you two were done, laying in each other’s arms like always, he held on for dear life and asked you. You said yes. It was a done deal, and he was happy. So, when you asked him, ’Do you really want to get married to me?’ his answer was always yes. He bought a cabin for you two near the Scout HQ, painstakingly let you ask him everything about the décor, and you two even consolidated his years old bank account that he barely touched to help pay for this wedding. Wasn’t that enough for you to know he wanted this? These things were pretty irreversible.

Then came the actual wedding day. It wasn’t your handwriting on the calendar that hung in your kitchen anymore. It wasn’t something that you kept reminding him was coming near. He didn’t anticipate that part, but it seemed that everyone else had. They were waiting for years and years to finally give Levi and (Y/F/N) the perfect wedding, that it almost seemed like you didn’t have to plan anything (but he still had to pay for it which he will never understand). You were similar to Levi in that aspect. You didn’t want anything extravagant ever, and you would rather fix up something and work with it half broken then buy a new one. When Historia had taken you shopping for your wedding clothes, you’d never seen such expensive materials from Mitras at your disposal. You were once a farmhand.

However, seeing you walk down the makeshift aisle to him, Hange at your side, he decided that all this bickering, of people invading his house to talk about colors and food settings, all of it was worth it. You were smiling and happy. You were beautiful and perfect to him, wearing that and glowing. God, when he first started dating you, he never knew it would be like this. He never knew he could feel love this deep for someone. His eyes were just wide, remembering everything you two had been through to get to this point. Someone had called this the Period of Peace and staring into your eyes as you walked towards him, Levi felt those words. You were his peace. You comforted him. You made him feel strong. He was Humanity’s Strongest because you thought he was. He had to be the strongest for you. He felt like he was only put on this Earth to meet you at this point. Nothing else mattered as he looked in your eyes the whole time.

Perhaps even a few tears fell from your eyes as you saw him standing there in his military best. When you first started dating Levi, you could have never imagined you would be here now. As a nation and as a couple. You two had been through so many deaths and so many last kisses as he left for expeditions in the soft bright of the morning when you were half awake. A kiss that always said ‘see you soon.’ Now, when you kissed him, it was never a goodbye. It was a ‘have fun building a train at work’ or a ‘have fun meeting with the boat of Marleyans.’

You laughed at how red his face got when he was prompted to kiss you in front of all these people. Seeing this, you just gave him a small peck on the cheek, and you heard Jean and Connie outwardly protest. That’s when Levi grabbed you, needing to prove to the brats that he could kiss you, and left you breathless as he pulled back. Mr. and Mr./s. Ackerman. Connie and Sasha had given you a hand carved name plaque to put above your front door as your wedding gift. In black letters it said that: Mr. and Mr./s. Ackerman.

Levi didn’t expect there to be a dinner afterwards. He didn’t expect to be dragged along by an ecstatic you, ready to talk to any and everyone who came. Sasha and Historia hugged you. Jean commented on how he’d still take you from Levi if he didn’t treat you well. Armin gave a blushing congrats as you hugged him. It was all too fun for you. It was all perfect, especially with Levi at your side, only looking at you. In all honestly, he was looking at you, one, because he would be annoyed if he looked at anyone else, and this was apparently supposed to be his day, and two, because he wanted nothing more to just ride home with you and tear those expensive clothes Historia bought off of you. White was your color, and you had promised him mind-blowing after-wedding sex if he agreed to even have one of these things. He wouldn’t be lying if he said that was one of the only motivations he had for even showing up today. That and that fact that he couldn’t actually get married to you without showing up. Like he said, he wanted to get married to you.

When you finally got peace and quiet, you two sat at your own smaller table eating dinner and looking out at the dance floor that Hange herself had set up. There were people there playing instruments and someone had brought a newly built radio, so they all seemed to be enjoying themselves. One of your biggest motivations for throwing a wedding like this was not for you, but for them. The Scouts had become your kids, and they needed happiness. Even so, you looked wearily to Eren who’s empty eyes just stared at his friends having fun. You’d have to talk to him sometime about that and sometime soon.

“Did I tell you; you look amazing, dear?” You turned to look at Levi who was now looking away from you, trying to hide his blush after he said that. To this day, he couldn’t give you a comment like that without getting flustered.

“No, you haven’t husband, but you could say it again.” He rolled his eyes at you, knowing he wasn’t going to say it again. Every comment Levi gave you was fleeting unless it was in bed with you. In public, Levi had an image to upkeep and it was crumbling before his eyes, starting with the way he kissed you in front of everyone. He swore if one of those brats brought those new-fangled cameras and took a picture, he would beat them to a pulp before taking it from them… for research.

“How does it feel now that you’re married to me?” You asked him and he scoffed, looking out to the dance floor and taking a bite of his steak.

“Not very different. This ring on my finger is going to throw off my ODM skills.” It was your turn to roll your eyes at him and you grabbed his left hand, making sure that your rings were touching. He blushed again, looking down at your hands to avert his gaze anywhere but your eyes. He’d get lost in them now. Truthfully, he did feel different. He was feeling a bit overwhelmed by it too. He’d never felt this fluttering, this deepness of love. It was so much more than before, and to think it was all because he got to call you Mr/s. Ackerman. It had been echoing in his head over and over again, ever since the officiant had said it. You were his in everyway possible now. As a possessive man, it did things to him that he couldn’t explain.

“Did you at least like the wedding? That was my biggest worry.” He composed himself enough to look you in the eyes now.

“I liked it up to the part where I had to kiss you in front of all the brats. No one mentioned that to me.” You laughed and in hindsight, it was a good thing he didn’t know till then. He would have called off the wedding just for that reason.

“Still, you’re the one who pulled me in to kiss you.” The blush came again. Why was he blushing so much today? It was just a normal day? Ugh, this was so embarrassing for him. Of course it was all your doing. He would blame you for his image being ruined… but he wouldn’t mind kissing you again. He was still thinking about your promise in the back of his mind. How much longer would this reception go?

“If I let the brats see it at least once, they’ll stop pestering about not loving you enough.” Your heart warmed at that and looked back to the dancefloor. Connie and Sasha had gotten into some sort of competition with each other, and they were bumping into some of your friends, hollering at the top of their lungs. Your friends were definitely in for a surprise, having met the kids you always talk about for the first time. They weren’t kids, no, but they acted like it. They weren’t used to grown adults having his much fun, apparently, but you let them, even if Levi wanted to yell at them to pipe down. You always told Levi to stop yelling at them for having fun. The kids could finally be kids again.

“Do they tell you that you’re not loving me enough?” He just scoffed again, and brought you hand up to his chin, leaning on it to feel your warmth elsewhere. Yes, they told him that plenty of times. After you introduced yourself to them, when you had hid them from the Royal Government in your family’s cabin, they were always so curious about you and Levi. How did you meet? Does he actually have feelings? Does he really know how to love? Does he ever smile? It was endearing to you, and you got in trouble for telling them too much, even Levi’s sleeping habits. However, this devotion you had seemed to tell them that he wasn’t as devoted since he never talked about you.

That was definitely opposite of the case.

Levi was the one who loved you the fiercest. From the first kiss you had after saving you from Annie in Trost to two nights ago, after Hange had burst into you two naked, pulling you from him because of some stupid superstitions about weddings and not seeing you. It was uncomfortable to sleep in your own bed, without his arms wrapped around you. Without his words of love and affection after you two had cleaned yourselves off. Levi was an attentive lover. Levi was a lover, period, but they didn’t know that. They would never know that. Levi only showed that love to you. His special person. The love of his life, and you felt like it, too.

“When is this over? I was given a promise.” You pulled your hand from his grasp, scoffing at his boldness. His voice had trailed off at the end, hoping you knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Is that all you see me as? A sex object? That’s why you married me, isn’t it?” You crossed your arms, turning away from him. He just rolled his eyes at you, but that lovesick smirk didn’t leave his face. This was one of the reasons he loved you.

“You’re right. It is. Now, when do I reap my new benefits as husband? I’m sick of watching these brats dance and eat the food we have to pay for.” You looked over at your shoulder, smiling at him. You didn’t want to tell him that he probably had another two hours since you hadn’t started drinking yet. It was a goal of yours to get him on the dance floor at least once tonight.

“Patience is a virtue, not a curse. Also, I don’t remember promising you anything, Mr. Ackerman.” He rested his head in one hand, still smirking at you. This time an eyebrow quirked up, and it reminded you of the younger boy you met years ago, fresh out of the Underground. The one who has changed so much since you met him into this mature, strong, selfless man, yet he was still mischievous around you.

“Is that why you’re wearing that lacey number under those clothes, Mr/s. Ackerman? Didn’t promise me anything, huh? Did you let Historia pay for that too, or can I rip it off of you without any guilt tonight?”

#levi ackerman scenario #levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi attack on titan #snk levi #aot levi #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #levi ackerman smut #aot smut #Captain Levi #attack on titan levi #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyoujin levi

174 notes · View notes

kittenshift-17 · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! I've really been craving some snamione fics, and your writing has made me picky 😬 do you have any fic recs or authors you go to when you're wanting something good? (the spicier the better)

Girl, you came to the right place. My Snamione loving heart is all aflutter. MY TIME HAS COME!!

*scampers off to fetch list to all her fave Snamiones in no particular order*

Self Slain Gods on Strange Altars by scumblackentropy What do you want me to say, Granger? That you are mine and I am yours? You are. I am. Let's not fuck around.

Pet Project by Caeria Hermione overhears something she shouldn't concerning Professor Snape and decides that maybe the House-elves aren't the only ones in need of protection.

FALLING FURTHER IN by kaz2 Hermione begins to learn something of the man behind the dark sarcasms of the classroom.

Chasing The Sun by Loten AU, from Order of the Phoenix onwards. Hermione only wanted to learn Healing; she discovers that Professor Snape is a human being after all, and his actions dramatically shape the course of the war as events unfold. Complete.

Pride of Time by Anubis Ankh Hermione quite literally crashes her way back through time by roughly twenty years. There is no going back; the only way is to go forward. And when one unwittingly interferes with time, what one expects may not be what time finds...

Inkspots by mezzosangue When you are a double spy with two masters, no one is a friend. But the war ended last May, and Severus is now his own man. An owl brings a letter of change, but is it a good change? Canon Compliant, disregards Epilogue. Eventual SS/HG romance.

Splintered and Broken by A plus He had watched as the thin wood snapped across her knee with a violence he had not known she possessed. He had been her teacher for seven years and had never seen this girl give up at anything. Voldemort wins, Hermione leaves, Severus waits.

The Tattered Man by Aurette I was once asked to write a Marriage Law Challenge fic by someone who loves a sad tale. This short story is it. Angst, Character Death. Tissues recommended. COMPLETE

Saving your life by lilmisblack When Hermione is captured by Death Eaters, Severus knows there's only one way to save her. 'What are you doing? ' she asked, her voice shaky. 'Saving your life,' he said, just as he started kissing her neck.

A Murder of Crows by Hogwarts 91 14 yrs post-war: Hermione’s teaching at Hogwarts when an un-aged Snape awakens from stasis and returns to the school. Sparks fly when they meet. Can they learn to trust and love in time to defeat an evil plot bent on changing the wizarding world forever?

Advanced Floriography by Viridiantly Snape's first question to Harry about wormwood and asphodel in the Language of Flowers means 'I bitterly regret Lily's death'. Harry never gets the message behind the question, but what if Hermione does, years later? Mostly set in HBP, DH and after. A story of messages with flowers, the wizarding war, and different kinds of love. Slow-burn. Not canon-compliant, but canon-inspired.

Looking for Magic by Hypnobarb Severus Snape and Hermione Granger deal with traumas past and present and find they have more in common than they realize as they prepare for the ultimate confrontation with Voldemort. SSHG pairing. Not HBP compliant. This is a novel length story.

Synergy by Laurielove Hermione is being followed, and she suspects she knows by whom. But when they come face-to-face, how will she react to him and his startling request? SS/HG. M readers only, please. Written for the 2011 LJ SS/HG Exchange.

Post Tenebras, Lux by Loten "After Darkness, Light." A chance meeting ten years after the war may not be just a coincidence, and may prove to have very far-reaching consequences. A story of many things, but primarily of healing. SS/HG; rated M for later chapters. Complete.

For the Potions Master's Amusement by snape.submiss Now Complete! Severus Snape is not a kind man, but Hermione Granger is past caring. She wants his approval and will do anything to get it. How far will she go? Even she has no concept of the depths to which she will fall in her quest.

Latent Loveliness by Ladyreason Bellatrix gets in one last curse before her defeat which causes Hermione to fall into a deep sleep... She'll only awaken to one man's kiss. And boy, will she awaken. eventual SSHG pairing

Babble On by Aurette One person's nervous tic, is another's nervous joy.

Liminal by Cybrokat Severus Snape keeps running into a student playing piano. Why does he stop to listen, and how does she respond when she is asked to invite him when she plays? And what about Voldemort? Here there be fluff, romance, drama, and angst.

Sins of the Father by Emmaficready 9 Months after the end of the war, a destitute Severus Snape, practically living rough, gets news that will change his life forever. Severus Snape Lives! / POST DH / EWE WARNINGS: Abuse, Neglect, Character Death, Rape, Sensitive/taboo topics.

The Marriage Law by teshara 020 rewrite and update! When Hermione Granger and Severus Snape are thrown together by the ill-conceived Marriage Law, no one doubts they'll make a good undercover team for the Order. No one suspects that they'll find mutual respect, love, and a plot to destroy the world. A story in 3 parts.

A wizard s trial by snapeophil Hermione is out after curfew when she witnesses something that will change her relationship to her DADA professor forever.

The Prisoner and the Occlumens by duskywolfdaemon Hermione's plans to spend her seventh year on the run with her friends are shattered when Severus Snape shows up with a proposal she cannot refuse. *AU 7th year with Hermione attending Hogwarts. Eventual SSHG. M for reasons. ***COMPLETE***

Unintentional Inveiglement by onecelestialbeing Takes places during the summer after OoTP, the Golden Trio is forced to stay in hiding at Grimmauld Place. Hermione (who is of age!) begins gravitating towards Snape without knowing why, and he attempts keeping her at arms length, but will be able to remain doing so? AU

Innocent Shadows by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse "You'll sort everything. Gods, Hermione, you fought five Death Eaters to a standstill *and* defended and saved Snape."/ "Professor Snape."/ Harry rolled his eyes. "Yes. That." He waved his hand at the bed. "So this? Piece of cake." /Marriage Law /ss/hg HEA...always *grin*

Turned Over by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse Severus Snape inherited Hermione Granger at three o'clock on a rain-soaked Saturday morning in March. SS/HG HEA...Always :) COMPLETE

The Irony by awakethelion Hermione Granger gets stuck in her Animagus form and is put in the care of the only one strong enough to control her - Severus Snape. The over-achieving know-it-all Gryffindor, is, in the eyes of Hogwarts student body, home taking care of her ill parents, while in reality she is now living life posing as Professor Snape's familiar. J.K. Rowling owns all the characters.

Camerado by MillieJoan Hermione seeks knowledge from a reluctant Snape in order to help the War effort. What she receives is more than either of them expected. Set beginning in Hermione's sixth year, continuing into a slightly AU post-DH era.

Unto Their Own by CRMediaGal The Light has fallen, Darkness abounds, and Hermione Granger is struggling to survive in a far more sinister Wizarding world. When she is sentenced into Snape's charge, Hermione begins to wonder if everything is truly as it seems. For better or worse, their worlds are about to collide, perhaps even unite them against a common enemy. AU, Post-Hogwarts, Rated M.

Vixen by SLovingLecter After her parent's deaths Hermione is bound and trapped in her Animagus form, first for her own safety, then to ensure the safety of others during the war. Who is she bound to? Severus Snape, of course.

Another Dream by dragoon811 Due to his injuries, Severus is unable to resume his old life. He's determined to be lonely and miserable, but the yearly Order Christmas party becomes a bright spot, thanks to Hermione Granger. Complete.

Entangled by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse No doubt, she'd been showing off obscure spells she found in the archives, again. Apparently, she did that whilst drunk. Hermione never yet had any memory of it. / SS/HG HEA...Always :)

Time Immemorial by FawkesyLady Hermione loses it after the Battle of Hogwarts. Unfortunately, she still had that time turner and she uses it, sending her back in time, a mystery for the denizens of Hogwarts, circa 1976. OC's are important. Please note, chapters 21-26 could be considered crossovers with JRR Tolkien's Return of the King. In for long haul, y'all. Nominee for Marauder's Medal 2018, Best WIP.

The Offer of Just One More by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse The feeling in her chest twisted. Tightened. Ronald Weasley didn't want children. SS/HG HEA...Always :) This one's a slow burn.

Time's Hammer by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse She was about to break the time stream. Not just break it, but take a bloody hammer to it. SS/HG HEA...Always :)

Clash of the Conjurers by llorolalluvia In a world where the mere flap of a butterfly's wing can cause a hurricane on the other side of the globe, can one simple glance save a man's life? When Hermione and her professor are forced together against their will, can they overcome their differences, find order amidst the chaos, and save the Wizarding World? not Cannon compliant. Rated M for sexuality and violence. DUBCON!

Turned Over by IShouldBeWritingSomethingElse Severus Snape inherited Hermione Granger at three o'clock on a rain-soaked Saturday morning in March. SS/HG HEA...Always :) COMPLETE

One Step Forward, Two Decades Back by corvusdraconis AU/AO: [HG/SS] What-if Story. Hermione Granger gets erased due to a badly phrased, vague, and bitter wish. She is Hermione Granger no more. Now, thanks to Ron, she is Hermione Ankaa Black, sister of Sirius & Regulus Black, & member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Now what is she going to do? Multiple pairings in later chapters, and JP starts out as a rampaging jerk.

Absinthe by Aurette A dark deed on a dark night sends two lives spinning out of control. To forge a future, both must confront their pasts. AU, EWE, SS/HG, HEA

The Love You Take by Subversa Hermione is cursed by the Death Eaters, and Dumbledore believes Professor Snape is the only one who can help her and keep her safe. Hermione is 18 years old in this story, but she is still a student.

162 notes · View notes

fanfictionaries · 4 years ago

Text

The Seduction of Sirius Black - Part 1

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Sirius Black

Summary:

Hermione loves her boyfriend, but there’s just one little problem -- she’s hopelessly attracted to Sirius Black.

Warnings: Swearing, Smut/18+ NSFW, Angst, Ron bashing (sorry)

Author’s Note: Posting some old stuff! Honestly, editing it has been a nice lead back into really writing. Very cathartic!

Also, apologies for the Ron bashing in this story. I know it’s a stupid trope and to a certain extent I really enjoy Ron as a character, buuuuut I’m using it as a cheap way to move plot.

ALSO, this is obviously a AU where Sirius didn’t die in the Department of Mysteries.

ALSO (and this is the last one I swear), I AM a big fan of Wolfstar but I also have daddy issues and find Sirius Black extremely attractive and this is my tumblr so I can write the stories I want I guess. Haha Not to mention, Sirius Black gives BIG bisexual energy.

MASTERLIST

***

Hermione didn’t really know when it had happened – this attraction to Sirius Black. It wasn’t as if she had woken up one day with the sudden urge to jump across the table and shag the older wizard into the next life. The whole thing had occurred much more gradually than that, she supposed. However, despite all of the trivial aspects of her…situation, Hermione chose instead to focus purely on the fact that he was entirely off limits. For many reasons. There was no way anyone in her close-knit circle of friends would be okay with her becoming entangled with a man more than twice her age and who also happened to be her best friend’s god father. It would be unacceptable. It would be impractical. Most of all it would be highly inappropriate as she was currently dating her other best friend, Ronald Weasley.

She supposed the attraction was inevitable to a certain degree. At the beginning, nearly a year and half ago, things like physical attraction were far from her mind. She’d just started her new position at the Ministry, Harry and Ron were training to be Aurors, the war had just come to an end and thus her life was a whirlwind of people and places. But over time things slowed down. Ronald was stationed away on official Auror business more and more often, leaving very little time for him to visit her and when he did come back, he had to split his time between her and his large family. Harry, having waited for Ginny to finish her final year at Hogwarts, had gone and married her the summer after and for all intents and purposes abandoned her. Harry…

It was really all Harry’s fault. Or at least that’s what Hermione liked to think whenever she felt her heart skip and her pulse slip between her thighs in Sirius Black’s presence. It had been Harry’s idea for Hermione to move into Grimmauld Place with him and Sirius after the war. Family, it seemed, had taken an important role in everyone’s lives when Lord Voldemort fell for the final time. All of the Weasley children had moved back to their childhood home of the Burrow – even Charlie much to everyone’s great surprise and delight. Tonks and Remus moved in with her mother and father, Andromeda and Theodore, to bask in the cheer of their newborn baby Teddy. And Harry had moved in with Sirius. Everyone had felt the need to be closer than ever to the ones that they loved, and Hermione completely understood that need. In fact, if she had had a family to go to, she would have moved in with them as well. But her parents were still in Australia somewhere, the location even unknown to herself as she’d designed it that way. Harry, being fully aware of this fact, insisted that she move in with him and Sirius. Hermione had been fully prepared to get her own flat in London. But after a bit of prodding she’d accepted Harry’s offer, secretly grateful that her best friend was so kind and thoughtful. Now, she probably cursed him name at least five times a day.

Hermione had been happy for him and Ginny when they announced their engagement. She’d cried not only when Ginny asked her to be her maid of honor, but also when the two had said their ‘I do’s. However, Harry moved out of Grimmauld Place following their marriage and subsequently left her to live with Sirius Black all by herself. So now she sat in the quaint little kitchen of the Black home, sipping her morning tea, and trying incredibly hard to keep her attention on her book rather than glance up at the rugged wizard sitting across from her.

“Hmpf” Sirius let out the little sound of surprise before continuing, “Would you look at that. Sources say that while Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, announces no final decisions have been made in regard to the recent Magical Creature Equality Act proposed last month, there are certain voices in the Ministry that are persuading not only the members of the Wizengamot, but the Minister himself to vote yes for magical creature equality.” He read the words aloud, peaking over his paper at her and raising his eyebrows. “I wonder who those certain voices or voice is…” he mused humorously.

It was no secret that shortly after being appointed a position in the Ministry department of Magical Creatures, Hermione had gone about being a personal activist for Magical Creature rights. Merlin, she had written almost the entire Act herself. Her hand still cramped at the thought of the hours she spent in her office and the library at Grimmauld Place scribbling away with her quill.

“No idea,” Hermione responded, feigning ignorance but blushing all the same in embarrassment. She kept her eyes on the pages of her book but found no matter how many times she read and reread the same paragraph she couldn’t retain it. Slowly her eyes shifted to the man in front of her. His gaze was fixed on the paper and so she was free to take him in. He had just showered, his wavy brown hair hanging damp to his shoulders. It made him look, in her opinion, especially delectable that morning. Hermione felt herself blush even deeper at the lewd thoughts threatening to enter her mind before looking back down at her book and scolding herself.

“So, when is Ronald coming for a visit again? Need me to clear off any time soon?” Sirius asked, sparking up conversation after the long bout of silence.

“Unfortunately, he won’t be back till next month,” she sighed, ignoring the second half of Sirius’s question.

“Well that’s not too bad I suppose—” Sirius smiled warmly and set down his paper as he stood up “—It gives you plenty of time to focus on getting the Ministry on board with your Act before you’re…distracted.” Sirius added the last part with a teasing implication not lost on Hermione.

“My Act?” Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow jokingly as she stood up as well and took her teacup to the sink. She grabbed the sponge to begin washing up when Sirius took it from her hand.

“I can do the washing up. You’re going to be late for work. Besides, it’s not like I work or anything. Might as well do something productive today,” he stated dryly, turning on the tap.

“Hmm, yes. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. You’ve become quite the lay-about. When are you going to get a job and start contributing to the household?” Hermione asked cheekily.

“Lay-about? Need I remind you that this is my house that you live in, rent free. You’re lucky a kind old man like me has taken a liking to you, or you’d be on the streets, kitten,” Sirius said, flicking some water off his fingertips in her direction.

“More like taken pity on me—” Hermione shook her head “—and you’re far from an old man, Sirius. I swear, you’d like people to think you’re closer to eighty than twenty!” She exited the kitchen and slipped into her heels next to the front door.

“Mind picking up some milk on your way home, kitten? We’re almost out!” Sirius called out to her, ignoring her statement on his age. Hermione tried not to focus on the way her stomach flipped in response to Sirius using his nickname for her for a second time that morning.

“Sure thing!” she called back before exiting the front door and apparating the moment she hit the sidewalk.

Hermione found it very difficult to work that day. The summer heat had become abysmal, proving to be quite the sticky, humid season, and of course that meant the Ministry’s cooling charms were on the fritz. By the time the day was over, Hermione’s hair had grown three times its size. Catching her reflection in a Ministry window, Hermione had gasped at its state. Even she hadn’t known it could get that big. In addition, her silk blouse that she had tucked into a polyester pencil skirt had become damp and uncomfortable from the sweat that accumulated on her body throughout the day. And even after casting multiple drying spells to herself and her clothes, there was still nothing she could do about her hair. To add to her physical discomfort, she also struggled with a mental discomfort as well. Ron had been plaguing her mind all day long.

Ronald Weasley. Her oldest friend, now boyfriend. It hadn’t been a shock to anyone when they had gotten together after the war had ended. It had almost been expected in fact. She’d liked him since third year and aside from his short tryst with Lavender Brown, it had been obvious they would be together. Hermione loved Ron, she really did, but he was gone so often. Gone often and when he was home things felt…off. His affection seemed to have waned and Hermione was left thinking that perhaps it had something to do with her. Every time he chose to kiss her cheek as opposed to her lips or pat her leg friendly instead of holding her hand Hermione felt a little blow to her confidence. Bitterly she thought of how he and Lavender had been all over each other sixth year. She certainly wouldn’t enjoy having Ron’s tongue shoved down her throat in broad daylight, but surely, it’d be nice to have him show a bit of affection. In the beginning he’d been much more enthusiastic. They would often sneak off for a cheeky snog and hands often lingered under tables. They’d even gone all the way. It had been romantic and sweet, and Ron had certainly enjoyed himself. Or at least she thought he had. But now she wasn’t so sure. Maybe she’d been rubbish at it and he didn’t know how to tell her. Maybe he just didn’t find her attractive anymore. She had put on a bit of weight in the past year and a half. Hermione figured it was for the best as she was no longer starving to death on the run from Voldemort and his Death Eaters. But now when she looked in the mirror her eyes focused for too long on the swell of her breasts, the curve of her hips, the thickness of her thighs, and the softness of her stomach.

Despite this possibility, Hermione couldn’t help but feel guilty about her lustful thoughts involving Sirius. She often tried to reason with herself that it was perfectly normal to feel such base emotions. Everyone had them and as long as she didn’t act on them, she was fine. She was just lonely, and Sirius was there.

Resolving to speak with Ron about her concerns when he returned in a week, Hermione shook the troubling thoughts from her head and continued down Diagon Alley, intending to just pop by the small corner store at the end for some milk and maybe some ice-cream for later. She needed a small pick-me-up after the day she’d had. Jogging the last few steps to the corner store, Hermione pulled open the heavy door and sighed happily as the cooling charms inside enveloped her. She wiped her forehead with her arm and headed to the back of the store where the freezer section was. The store was practically deserted aside from a single witch staring at the ice pops with a heavy look of concentration. Hermione walked up next to her to stare at the ice-cream choices and smiled when she spotted the Rocky Road. It was Ron’s favorite.

“It’s a scorcher out there, innit?” commented the witch, her thick London accent coming through endearingly sweet. Hermione looked to her left and took in the girl. She was thin and tan with beautiful golden hair tied up into a long ponytail. She had a friendly, heart-shaped face and sparkly green eyes. Something about her seemed familiar – Hermione must have seen her somewhere before.

“I’m practically melting,” agreed Hermione, shaking her head, and grabbing the Rocky Road, thinking she would have that tonight rather than her usual Mint Chocolate-Chip.

“Any fun plans for the heat?” the pretty blonde asked casually, grabbing a box of grape ice pops and a carton of Rocky Road ice-cream as well.

“Not really. Probably just go home and cast as many cooling charms as possible—” Hermione crinkled her nose and quirked the corner of her mouth in a wry grin “—Yourself?”

“Me and my boyfriend are planning a nice night in. He’s just got back from assignment with the Ministry. He’s an Auror, so we’re doing a bit of celebrating before he has to go back.” The girl smiled, her voice heavy with adoration.

“How nice! My boyfriend’s an Auror as well.”

“Really?” the girl asked, eyes lighting up.

“Yes, he’s actually away on assignment right now. I wonder if they know—” Hermione had been about to ask if perhaps their respective partners were familiar with each other when a voice called out from the end of the aisle.

“Babe, they didn’t have the crisps you like, but—” Basket hanging from one hand and a bag of Salt and Vinegar crisps in the other, Ron stopped dead in his tracts at the sight of Hermione. His eyes grew wide, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “’Mione?”

Hermione stared back too, but unlike Ron she was unable to find her voice. Instead she just stared. Ron was back from assignment? Why hadn’t he told her? What was he doing there? Why was he calling this girl babe when—

“Wait—‘Mione? As in Hermione Granger?” the witch asked, taking a step back from Hermione and towards Ron. She looked at Hermione with wide, incredulous eyes. “Oh my gosh, I feel so foolish. I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you.”

Hermione looked on in confusion as she watched the witch hook her arm in Ron’s and smile politely back at her.

“Hermione,” Ron said her name again, but Hermione was too busy taking the two of them in. She felt like an absolute fool. The carton of Rocky Road slipped from her fingers and landed on the linoleum floor of the shop with a dull thud. Then, in a panic, Hermione turned on the spot and fled, hearing Ron’s call after her mix with a small ‘Oh my’ from the pretty blonde witch.

There were a million places Hermione could have gone. There were a million places Hermione should have gone. All of them much better choices than the seedy little muggle bar she found just outside of Diagon Alley. She should have gone home. Or to Harry. Or to Ginny. The smart choice was to tell someone what had happened and to talk it out. But instead, she spent the next four hours doing her best to get well and truly pissed. Drinking wasn’t like Hermione and certainly the first glass of whiskey had been hard to get down. But she found after the first two, she hardly tasted the biting liquid anymore and the dulling effect of the alcohol was just so nice.

It was just past ten in the evening when Hermione left the bar, tipping this way and that way in her heels and feeling exceptionally light-headed. The night had cooled down and the sun had just set, allowing Hermione to feel some semblance of relief as she walked down the street to a nearby alleyway. It probably wasn’t the best idea to apparate when she was so inebriated, but Hermione wasn’t really thinking in that moment. She just knew she didn’t want to walk. Thankfully, she managed to land, although very ungracefully, in front of Grimmauld Place without splinching herself.

“Shit,” Hermione whispered followed by a snort of laughter when she tripped over the threshold after finally getting her key in the keyhole. The world had gone all wobbly it had taken her ages to find the right key and get it in the lock. Closing the front door as quietly behind her as possible Hermione found herself overtaken by the strong urge to laugh again. Hermione Granger was well and truly sloshed and for some reason she found that to be very funny.

“Hermione?”

Hermione jumped at her name, letting out a little shriek as she turned around and found Sirius standing in the hall. The hall was dark, but light streamed out through the doorway to the kitchen illuminating him in long shadows where he stood, arms crossed.

“Sirius—” Hermione held a hand to her heart, feeling it beat wildly in her chest. “I didn’t think you’d still be up.”

“It’s past eleven, where have you been?” There was a strange tone to his voice, like he was angry with her but also like he was speaking to a small, frightened animal.

Past eleven? How long had it taken her to unlock the front door?

“I was—” Hermione tripped on the rug, catching herself on the wall and letting out another little laugh “—I stopped and had a little post-work drink.” Her words were slurred, even to her own ears and she laughed again, holding a hand over mouth in embarrassment. “Well, maybe one or two post-work drinks.”

“Are you drunk, kitten?” Sirius asked, sounding amused now.

Hermione continued down the hall, getting closer and closer to Sirius. Each step was a new struggle. A trip here, a wobble there. But Hermione didn’t care. In fact, she felt…good. Free almost. “Maaaaybe,” she drawled, giggling like a small child as she closed the last bit of distance and swayed before Sirius.

He stared down at her, arms now uncrossed as he seemed to be trying to figure out whether he should be amused or concerned. Hermione’s mouth went dry. Now that she was closer, she could see him more clearly and Merlin did she see him. There was a shadow of facial hair across his square jaw, and down his neck. Hermione found herself wondering what it felt like – whether it was soft or rough. Gaze traveling down the thickness of his neck she found his upperhalf bare, the only thing covering his torso, an open robe revealing the inky black of his tattoos. She loved his tattoos. They made him look dangerous. Mysterious. Hot. His chest was free of hair, the lean muscles dipping low and high like delicious hills and valleys she’d so like to explore. In fact…she reached out a hand, her body working opposite of a clear head as her fingertips tentatively touched the smooth planes of Sirius’ chest. He was warm.

He went sort of rigid under her touch, but Hermione barely noticed. Instead she was too entranced by the feel of him. Had she ever touched him before? She didn’t think she had. Her gazed traveled further south and with it, so did her fingertips. Ghosting down the center of his chest from sternum to bellybutton, she blushed furiously at the sight of thick dark hair starting at his navel and disappearing below a pair of pajama pants that sat dangerously low on his hips. She swallowed thickly, her breath coming in thick hot puffs as her hand traveled further, barely brushing the thick hair before a hand shot out and grasped her wrist.

Hermione gasped, looking up suddenly into the stormy eyes of Sirius Black before her. He lifted her wrist to shoulder height, pulling her forward slightly as he did it. The distance between them closed even more.

“Kitten.” It was a warning. Hermione knew it. But for some reason her whiskey-idled brain didn’t care. She liked the risk behind his tone. Her body practically purred at the sound of his special nickname just for her – the irony of that sentiment lost on her in the moment.

“Yes, Sirius?” she responded, her voice coming out deep and breathy and dare she say seductive? Hermione had never sounded like that before. She kind of liked it. Looking up at him with her best attempt at innocent eyes, she waited for him to say something.

Sirius stared down at her, his face a stony mask, but a war was raging behind his eyes. Hermione’s gaze flickered from the stormy grey of his eyes to the fullness of his lips and back up. With a deep breath and a long swallow that made his Adam’s apple bob in a mouth-watering way, Sirius finally spoke.

“You should go to bed.”

Hermione huffed, a bit like a petulant child but not quite as bratty. “What if I don’t want to?”

“It wasn’t really a suggestion.” His tone was dark, and it sent a surprising thrill through Hermione’s body. Her center throbbed. Her breath hitched. Maybe it was all in her head – this thick tension between them. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was certainly taboo, this…energy radiating between them. But Hermione didn’t really care because in that moment she made the sudden realization that she could have this. She could have this and not be the bad guy. Ron was the bad guy. All those months of guilt for feeling basic human attraction and he was off shagging some beautiful, leggy blonde. But now…she didn’t have to feel guilty anymore.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione lifted up onto her toes and closed the distance between them. Their lips pressed together for a moment, firm and warm. When Sirius failed to respond, Hermione’s stomach dropped, and she made the mortifying realization that he didn’t want to kiss her. She was just beginning to pull away, an apology poised on her lips when the grip on her wrist vanished and reappeared around her waist, pulling her in tightly as Sirius’s lips claimed her own.

It all happened very quickly. A meshing of lips and teeth and tongue that left her hot, sticky, and out of breath. Before she knew it, she was being pushed up against the wall of the hallway, her back and head hitting the plaster hard, but she did not care. The only thing she could focus on was the feeling of Sirius’s lips on her own and the hot cloud of their shared breath.

His hands remained wrapped tightly around her torso, gripping the material of her blouse in his fists, but Hermione’s hands were everywhere. She wanted to touch all of him, and she was determined to do so. It wasn’t until her hands wound themselves around his neck and threaded up into his hair, gripping the strands vice-like, that Sirius broke. He let out a ragged groan before moving his hands from around her waist to her front. Grabbing the material of her blouse in each hand, he gave a great tug, not even bothering to try and unbutton it. Hermione gasped at the sound of ripping fabric and the pop of her blouse buttons. Cool air brushing her sensitive skin and the hitch in his breath made Hermione acutely aware that she was now bare to him from the waist up. She remembered the bra she’d chosen to wear that day – a thin and see-through number that cupped her breasts perfectly but left little to the imagination. He was kissing her neck then, sucking and biting in ways that left her breathless and needy. His hands covered her breasts, kneading and stroking in a gentle way that contrasted so strikingly with how he was attacking her neck.

The only thing Hermione could do in that moment was hold on for dear life. Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest and when Sirius’s mouth traveled south to envelope of her nipples, she thought that actually had. She let out a low, needy moan and arched into him. Feeling bold, she slid a hand from his hair, down the firm planes of his chest and to the front of his pajama bottoms. At the feel of his hard length she whined, high and breathy. Her hand had been there for barely a moment before Sirius tore away from her, distancing himself the width of the hallway. Hermione leaned against the wall behind her, needing the stability of it to stay upright due to her still drunk nature and the shaky state of her legs.

“What?” she asked, looking at the panting man across from her with confusion.

Sirius stared at her for a moment, chest falling up and down as pieces of his thick dark hair hung in his face. Hermione tried to focus but the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to brush that hair from his gorgeous features so she could see him more clearly.

“You’re drunk. You should go to bed,” said Sirius, his voice low and gravely and filled with an edge of regret.

“But—” Hermione hesitated, confused at his response “—I don’t understand.” She crossed the distance between them, kissing up the older wizard’s neck. Did he think she didn’t want this?

“Kitten.” Sirius’s voice was strained, but he still managed to grab Hermione’s wandering hands and push her away again. Hermione gasped at his rough touch as he pulled her off of him. “I said you should go to bed.”

Hermione stared up at him in shock for a moment before a surprising rage filled her. Was she not good enough for him? Was she not pretty enough? Did he not enjoy what they’d been doing? The hot sting of angry tears reached the inner corners of her eyes and she tore out of Sirius’s grip before stomping up the stairs towards her room with a huff.

Part 2

#harry potter #fanfic #fanfiction #sirius black #hermione granger #sirius x hermione #sirius black x hermione granger #smut

53 notes · View notes

chiseler · 3 years ago

Text

Larger Than Life

In 1927, Albert Bertanzetti and his three-year-old son, William, were taking a stroll when they stopped to join a small crowd watching a film being shot on the streets of Los Angeles. During a break in the shoot, Albert suggested his son go show the director, Jules White, his little trick. So William toddled over to White and tugged on his pant leg. When he had White’s attention, William flipped over, went into a headstand and began spinning in circles. White was so taken with the trick he gave the young Bertanzetti a small uncredited role in the two-reel short, Wedded Blisters. Afterward, William earned a regular role in the popular Mickey McGuire series of shorts, where he played Mickey Rooney’s younger brother Billy. Taking prevailing anti-Italian sentiments into consideration, in the credits he was cited as “Billy Barty.”

Barty had been born in Millsboro, Pennsylvania in 1924, but when it was determined he had hay fever, Albert decided to move the family West, to the dry, clean air of Hollywood. Depending on how you look at it, hay fever was the least of Barty’s problems. Or maybe not, given how things worked out.

Apart from hay fever, Barty had also been born with cartilage–hair hypoplasia, a form of dwarfism. Being extremely small for his age at three (as an adult he stood three-foot-nine), when it came to early film roles he was almost exclusively relegated to playing diaper clad infants. It was a director’s dream—having an infant on set who could not only take direction, but could walk, run, talk and do tricks as well. As a result, along with the Mickey McGuire shorts, he played infants in everything from the all-star live action adaptation of Alice in Wonderland (1933) to Golddiggers of 1933 (1933) to Bride of Frankenstein (1935). In fact Barty, tiny as he was, would play diaper-clad infants until he hit puberty.

Over a career that would span seven decades, along with infants, Barty would play his share of elves, leprechauns, imps, Hobbits, trolls, assorted other fairy tale and fantasy characters, clowns, court jesters, pygmies, sideshow performers and mad scientist assistants. Ironically, for having appeared in over two hundred films and television shows, Barty did not appear in the three touchstones of American Dwarf-centric cinema: Tod Browning’s Freaks (1932), Sam Newfield’s The Terror of Tiny Town (1938), or Mervin LeRoy’s The Wizard of Oz (1939). No, although he would appear in the behind-the-scenes comedy Under the Rainbow (1981), contrary to the general assumption, Billy Barty was never an original Munchkin. There are reasons for this.

In 1932 when Browning was working on Freaks, Barty was only eight, he was not a professional carnival freak, and he was too busy with the Mickey McGuire shorts. And after the shorts’ seven-year run ended in 1934—two years before casting began on Tiny Town or The Wizard of Oz—Albert Bertanzetti, recognizing talent in all of his children, pulled Billy out of the movies and sent the whole family on the vaudeville circuit.

Now, 1935 was hardly the most opportune time to try and break into vaudeville. As an entertainment form it had been on life support for a decade already, with theaters either closing down or becoming movie palaces with performances, almost as a sad afterthought, taking place after that evening’s double feature had ended. Those performers who could were trying to break into pictures, and those who couldn’t were vanishing without a trace. Now here was Barty, who’d been working regularly in films for nearly ten years, trying to break into vaudeville. Nevertheless, Billy and Sisters, as they were touted, marched on, with a musical act featuring Barty’s sister Evelyn on piano and accordion, his other sister Dede playing violin, and Barty himself on drums. They all sang and danced a little, and the adolescent Barty told jokes and did impressions. In his later years he remembered the time fondly, mostly because it gave him a chance at that early age to see much of North America.

In 1942 Barty enrolled in college in Los Angeles and majored in journalism, hoping to become a sportswriter. While there, he joined the football and basketball teams, where he was both a novelty and a ringer. He also played second base on a semi-professional baseball team for a spell, where by his own account he was walked forty-five times.

Instead of pursuing work as a sports columnist after graduation, he returned to show business. Later he was quoted as saying, “You don’t see any little people doing newscasts, you don’t see any doing sports writing, you don’t see any sports announcing, you don’t see any coaches, but there are little people who are capable of doing these things, who have proven themselves.” You get the sense there was a little personal bitterness there, hinting he may have been forced back to Hollywood because that was the only place he could find work.

By 1947, now an adult with a gravelly but high-pitched voice, Barty sported a boxer’s face on a disproportionately large head. In many ways he resembled a diminutive William Demarest, and in many roles would adopt Demarest’s gruff but lovable demeanor. Shedding the diaper at last, he nevertheless picked up where he left off, playing assorted pygmies and leprechauns and elves, usually for cheap laughs.

In the early Fifties he became a regular member of Spike Jones musical comedy ensemble, The City Slickers, and was a big hit on Jones TV shows, where he became especially known for his slapstick, spot-on Liberace impression, and his ability to roll off his piano bench into a head spin, a trick which continued to serve him well.

Growing up, Barty said, he had no idea he was different, that his parents never told him there were things he couldn’t do because he was too short. By the time he was thirty, however, he’d come to learn the rest of the world was not quite as accepting as his parents. In 1957, Barty put out a call for little people from around the country to join him for a get together in Reno. Only twenty people showed up to that first convention, but it became the foundation for Little People of America, a support and advocacy group pushing for equitable treatment and civil rights for dwarfs, midgets and other people of unusually small stature. His aim was to ensure little people across the country would be treated fairly, would be able to get jobs, and would be granted the same accessibility rights afforded the normally-sized. It always struck me as a little odd that, for all his tireless efforts lobbying to normalize perceptions and treatment of little people throughout American culture, Barty, without much apparent gumption, would continue to take roles some might call demeaning, or at the very least helped cement those stereotypes he was fighting so hard to break. Perhaps to him it was simply paying work, it was showbiz, and he knew full well what his role was within that world. But the apparent ironic contrast between his activism and his work would lead to a public tiff in the Seventies with fellow small actor Hervé Villechaize of Fantasy Island. Barty, who’d appeared on the show, felt Villechaize was undercutting all his work when he said bluntly that people like him and Barty “were midgets, not actors.”

After the second annual Little People of America convention, Barty began courting Shirley Bolingbroke, a little person who had attended the meeting. When he proposed, however, she declined, telling him she was a devout Mormon, and so would never consider marrying anyone outside the faith. In 1962 Barty relented and converted to the church of Latter-day Saints, and the two were married. Although Mormon insiders and publicists have made a big deal of Barty’s enthusiastic True Believer status within LDS, it would be many years before he agreed to get baptized and receive full member status, and then only to participate in his son’s baptism.

Around the time of the marriage, as Barty was making regular TV appearances on various comedy and variety shows (including a recurring role on Peter Gunn), he also began hosting a weekday afternoon local kid’s show in Los Angeles which was called either Billy Barty’s Big Top or Billy Barty’s Big Show, depending on who’s doing the remembering. That stint may well have brought him to the attention of the sinister Sid and Marty Krofft, who in the late Sixties conscripted Barty to become a regular on several Krofft shows including H.R. Pufnstuf, The Bugaloos, and later Sigmund The Sea Monster, where he played the titular sea monster opposite Rip Taylor and aging child star Johnny Whittaker.

For all the low-brow antics and his uncredited roles in Elvis movies, it must be said Barty was always a compelling and charismatic screen presence, a, yes, larger than life character. In those few rare instances when he played roles that made no references at all to his height—like Abe Kusich, the shady drunken cockfighter in Day of the Locust or Ludwig, Rod Steiger’s sidekick in W.C. Fields and Me, he proved himself an electric onscreen presence who could dominate any scene.

(Just a quick aside, in 1980 Ralph Bakshi rotoscoped Barty to portray both Bilbo and Samwise Baggins in his animated version of Lord of the Rings. I wasn’t aware of that at the time, but thinking back on it now, the way both characters moved, it seems so obvious I was watching another Billy Barty performance.)

In 1975, around the same time he opened a Southern California roller rink he called “Billy Barty’s Roller Fantasy, Barty established The Billy Barty Foundation. As an adjunct to Little People of America, the Foundation aimed to provide practical assistance—money, adaptive equipment, etc.—to little people in need, particularly children. And after campaigning for George H.W. Bush during the 1988 presidential campaign, he sat on a panel of advisors working to hammer out the details of the Americans with Disabilities Act, which President Bush signed into law in 1990.

At the same time he was sitting on that panel, Barty was also producing, directing and starring in Short Ribs, a syndicated sketch comedy series featuring an all-dwarf cast including Patty Maloney, Jimmy Briscoe and Joe Gieb. The show, which was modeled after SCTV and SNL, only aired in the Los Angeles area and ran thirteen weeks. After the show went off the air, Barty was slapped with two lawsuits, one from the show’s co-producer William Winckler and one from the show’s co-writer Warren Taylor, both of whom claimed Barty owed them money. The suits ended up, inevitably, in small claims court. Barty lost both suits, and even though few people had ever heard of, let alone seen the show, news of Barty in small claims court was too much for reporters to resist, and the case received smirking national attention.

After the suits were settled, Barty continued to work, but a bit more sporadically. He had one-off roles on Frasier, Jack’s Place, and a few low-budget quickies, and seemed to be edging more into voice roles, providing characterizations for a Batman cartoon and The Rescuers Down Under, to name a couple. But he was still working until the end, when he ended up in the hospital with cardiopulmonary issues in late 2000. He died on December 23rd of that year at age 73.

In the late Eighties he told an interviewer, “I’ve never looked at acting as ‘Ahhh!’ and ‘Gee!’ I started in vaudeville when I was five and for me it was just walking on a stage and I’m gonna perform. Later on I was impressed by many things, like when I worked with Burt Lancaster and Kirk Douglas in Tough Guys. That was an ‘Ahhh!’ for me. When I look back, even today, I guess I can go ‘Ahhh!’ because I worked with Ruby Keeler and Dick Powell in Gold Diggers of 1933 when I was nine. Then they were just grown-ups on the stage. As I look back, I’m more awed now than I was when I was actually doing it.”

Those who knew and worked with Barty always recall what a joy it was, how kind and enthusiastic and funny he was, a real spark who could enliven even the most questionable production. I would never deny that. I’ve always loved and admired Barty, and have sat through countless godawful films and TV shows simply because he had a role, no matter how small.

That said, I do have to wonder if at the end, after all his decades of work fighting for the dignity of little people everywhere, he felt like a bit of a hypocrite for spending those same years and more cementing the stereotype in the American consciousness. I also wonder if he died still wishing he’d become a sportswriter for a Des Moines daily instead.

by Jim Knipfel

7 notes · View notes

imma-potatoo · 4 years ago

Text

I HAD TOO

I AM NOT SORRY AT ALL @superwholockandpfl

This is once again written for my friend k.c.cosplay on tiktok! Once again, amazing cosplays 💙💛💙💛💙💛💙

Same universe then this fic

*Logan is a dark side*

Ships: Loceit, parental logicality, parental anxceit

Warnings: none that I know of? Let me know if you want me to tag something

-----------

Perseus and Andromeda

-----------

Logan and Janus stood in front of the other four. Smiles completely coated their faces as they both held out their left hands. Janus holding Logan's bicep with his right hand.

Rings. On both of them.

"You- you got married?" Patton's voice was timid. He didn't expect this day to come. But he currently wanted his father-son dance with Logan

Janus and Logan's faces quickly turned to shock. "What?! No! We're engaged! These are engagement rings daa-- Patton!" Logan blushed at the almost use of Pattons old title. Not that Logan didn't view Patton as a father figure -far from it, Janus and him were the youngest sides- but calling someone dad while you are practically the same age and completely imaginary is quite weird in his opinion but I mean-

"My love, your zoning out again."

Logan could hear the amusement in his fiance's voice. Squeezing Janus' hand slightly; Logan cleared his thoat, "What was that question again?"

Roman was slightly laughing before Remus elbowed him in the ribs, "OW REM-" "Roman sh! Do you have a date picked out yet?" Virgil had a hopeful shimmer in his eyes

Logan and Janus looked at eachother briefly, "Not really, to be honest" Janus laughed slightly. "He just asked me last night," a lose curl falling from behind the yellow sides ear. Logan quickly catching it to tuck it back to its rightful place

The sides migranted over to couch. They had a feeling that they'll be talking for a while.

"Any ideas on a theme yet?" Roman was bouncing enthusiastically, hands tight fisted on the couch. A huge ear to ear grin spread on his face

Logan hummed, thinking back to a precious conversation, "We're thinking victorian or dark academia. But we're open to any suggestions!" his hand was tracing circles over and over on Janus' back.

Roman jumped off the couch. Bouncing up and down over and over and over, "FEAR NOT MY BELOVED FRIENDS! I will help you plan it!"

Romans eyes sparkled rapidly. Grin glowing like wild, he paused for a second or two before gasping, "WE COULD HAVE IT IN A HUGE GOLDEN BALLROOM! With crystal plates! And a hundred foot tall cake! An-"

It was at that point where the blue and yellow sides completely zoned out to Romans tangent.

The newly engaged couple gave eachother a look. This look said a lot of things. But mainly 'are we seriously going to let a side who thinks throwing glitter at random objects equels fashion. Complete control of our wedding?' that look. Its a very very specific look. But its a very obvious look.

The red creativity seemed to notice the couples glazed over eyes and blank expression. So he quickly stopped his rant to add on a rather important detail, "I mean... If you guys want me to help. Its completely ok if you don't!! I mean, its ok, I just-"

"Roman for the love of all things holy. Please stop talking." Logan was rubbing his temple with his free hand, "We would love to have you help plan our wedding. But we don't need a ballroom, or crystal plates, or any fancy fairy tale type things." He squeezed Janus' hand with a bright grin, "We just need eachother."

Roman's dramatic pose and extreme tangent faltered. He paused. Seeming to process the information. Before a small grin took his face. "then thats what you two will have."

Janus moved his gaze from Roman to the green twin... Looking at the floor.... With a pout that could kill a god.... Looking very non-Remus esq.

"Remus, do you also want to help plan our wedding?"

In the span of a second, Remus' face bounced between 50 different emotions before settling on complete and utter happiness, "I THOUGHT YOU WOULD NEVER ASK MY AMAZING DOUBLE D-"

Patton slapped his hand over Remus' mouth, "lets not talk about my future son-in-law like that! eeewwwWWWWWW!!! ROMAN HE LICKED MY HAND!!" Patton snapped his hand away as soon as he put it on.

Laughter filled the rest of the night... And quite a bit of wine.

------2 mouths later-----

Logan grumbled as he threw another crumpled piece of paper against the desk. Elbows on the desk, hands pressing into his eyes.

His supposed vows were going amazingly. Completely. Totally. A hundred percent. Amazing....... Oh who was he kidding? His vows were going terribly.

Not from lack of love or anything absolutely ridiculous like that. He loved Janus more then the stars, moon and galaxies combined. He loved everything about Janus.

He loved Janus' snark. He loved the way his eyes glowed when they watched a movie. Or how Janus' voice drips like steeped honey and smoked chives. Or how his snake eye dilates when he's happy. Or when he gets excited and talks for hours and hours about a philosopher or a certain myth that sparked his interest or reminded him of their relationship-

Thats it.

The last myth that Janus was talking about was Perseus and Andromeda.

Andromeda was to be sacrificed to save her kingdom because her mother boasted about her beauty to the nererids. The nererids told their father, Poseidon, and as revenge; Poseidon sent a sea monster to ravenge the kingdom. Perseus, the hero who slayed Medusa, saw Andromeda chained to the stone and slayed the sea monster. After saving her, he took her hand in marriage.

It was far from their love story. Far far from their love story. But...

The way his eyes lit up.

Logan could get drunk on that look. He could live off that look alone for the rest of his life. Oh and that smile

Logan takes his head out of his hands. Mouth agape.

He had an idea

---------

Janus had been hitting his head against his desk for hours.

Janus could write millions of speeches, and could convince armys to do his bidding, and he could use empty words to get his desires.

But these damn vows.

Janus supposes that its because he isn't used to truth. But he wants too! But the truth seems to be avoiding him more then mouse with a cat.

Logan likes cats, he could never get one before because Patton's allergic. Should he even call Patton by his name? Wouldn't he call him dad now?

He allowed his mind to wonder for a short period of time. Elbows on the desk, hands pressing into his eyes.

This needs to be the truth and its not like he's low on love for Logan. Far far from it

They met when they were younger. Really really younger. He doesn't even remember it. But according to Virgil, Logan and him stared at eachother for five minutes before actually talking to eachother -more like babbling- after that they were practically inseparable. They did everything together apparently. Then they stayed friends for a long time. They barely even talked to eachother by the time that he introduced himself to Thomas. But...

But then Logan became a dark side. Logan started to unbutton the top of his polo. Logan stopped wearing the tie. Logan started to wear ice blue makeup. The Logan he knew as a child came back.

The Logan who loved science, bugs and books. Who loved ranting about old dead philosophers and Janus loved to listen. Logan loved old libraries and classical music. The Logan that used to watch Bill Nye as a child and knows the theme song by heart. The Logan that loved old myths and stories. The Logan who would go outside to the imagination and watch the stars and constellations for hours. His Logan

His favourite constellation was Perseus-

He has an idea.

----The Wedding Day----

Janus adjusted his suit for probably the millionth time. Running his fingers through his hair, attempting to make it lay properly. But only making the curls more wild.

Grumbling obscurities while trying to smooth down his damn hair, he heard low chuckles behind him.

"You know your only gonna make it worse, right Jan?" Virgil was leaning against the wall. His own hair absolutely perfect.

Janus sighed, "I know dad. But I just want my damn hair to lay properly for once! This is why I wear my damn hat-" the chuckles turned into full laughter.

"Logan will love you, no matter how your hair looks," Virgil stood up straight (HA) and walked over to Janus

He took a comb and started to go through his hair. Janus stopped growing by the time he was fifteen, so he was maybe at shoulder height with Virgil. "You need to stop worrying so much, and thats coming from me. Lo loves you more then the sun itself. Don't worry about something as silly as your hair."

Janus watched from the floor to ceiling mirror as Virgil expertly calmed down the mess of his hair.

Meanwhile.....

"Patton please stop crying. Your going to stain my suit-"

"BUT MY BABY'S GETTING MARRIED!!!" tears were still leaking down his face. He's been doing this since he came into the room -which was about twenty minutes ago-

Logan sighed, a smile apparent on his face as he patted his father figure on the back. "I know." he straightened his bowtie slightly in the mirror, "I just love him so much dad," Patton sat down in one of the dressing room chairs. A smile covering his entire face.

"Jan isn't really one to cry. But when I proposed to him? Tears just started leaking. I thought he was upset, so I went to comfort him," blush growing on his cheeks, "then he kissed me and looked me directly in the eyes and said yes." Logan felt a huge grin spreading on his cheeks against his will. He looked out of the mirror and back to his father. "He said yes."

Patton stood up from his seat and put his hands on Logan's shoulders, "and now its your wedding day. You two are going to get married and live out your lives being complete loveable nerds as you talk about philosophy and the stars and things I could never understand. You two are absolutely perfect for eachother and I can't wait to see where you two go next." while tears still shone in his eyes, the smile showed that they were of happiness.

They stared at eachother for a few minutes. Patton nitpicking small details to fix on Logan's suit.

"Janus the one walking down the isle right?"

Logan laughed softly, "yeah, he said it was a more dramatic entrance. Thats my future husband, right there"

Patton looked a little puzzled, "Can you even call him your future husband if the ceremony is starting in less then ten?"

"I mean, technically thats in the futur- wait. How much time was left?"

Patton blinked. Looking in the eyes of his son, "Ten minutes."

A look of panic shot through Logan. "We have to go!"

Logan grabbed Patton's hand. Pulling him out to the room. The celebration hall was stunning

It was outside, circle tables scattered around the clearing like the stars above scattered in the sky. A banquet table for the newly weds, their parents and their best men. The altar was covered in delicate fairy lights illuminating a soft glow. The shimmering stars above their heads shone brighter the usual. The constellations of Perseus and Andromeda were by far the brightest.

Logan stopped in his tirade to the altar. And simply looked at the brilliant view that the twins had put together for them.

For once in his life. Logan was speechless.

"They did a good job right?!?"

Logan was still looking around the meadow, amazed at every tiny detail. From the black dahilas that Remus insisted on including because of the famous unsolved murder, to the fairy lights climbing up the pillers that was no doubt Roman's doing.

"Its beautiful... How di-"

"The twins are a very creative bunch, kiddo!! We have five minutes until your wonderful groom comes out!" The other guests were starting to fill the room as Logan took his place at the altar. It was mostly figments that Thomas had made. Emile, Remy, The Critic, etc. They all took their seats and watched the meadow.

Logan walked over to his place next to the altar. Hands fidgety and resisting the urge to mess with the hair that he spent so long combing down. Roman stood at his side, while Remus waited at the other side of the altar for Janus. Before he knew it the music started to play, the quests rose from their seats, he felt his desire to stand straight. But none of those compared to when Janus walked into the room.

Janus walked in with Virgil latched on to his arm. A periwinkle blossem on the left of his chest. He still had his yellow gloves on -he really hated taking them off. Without the gloves, Janus couldn't lie- but he was without his hat. He was in a black tux with a yellow bowtie.

Logan couldn't think of anything else more beautiful. Logan couldn't think of anyone more beautiful then the side in front of him. Logan couldn't help the gigantic, ear to ear smile as Janus arrived at the altar and took his hands in his own.

The officiant -Who Roman just summoned from the imagination- cleared his voice and spoke to the whole room of people, "Friends and Family, we are gathered here today to connect two side's hearts and souls through this ceremony.

Logic Logan Sanders, Do you take this side to love and to hold, to protect and charish and to adore until the end of your lives?"

His smile growing wider, eyes sparkling with deep love and affection; Logan gazed into Janus' eyes, lightly squeezing his hands. "More then the sun and the stars."

The officiant smiled slightly before turning to Janus. "Deceit Janus Sanders, Do you take this side to love and hold, to protect and charish and to adore until the end of your lives?"

Tears shone throughout Janus' eyes. He removed his hands from Logans and for a second the blue side felt his heart drop, only for it to swell when he sees Janus remove his gloves and place his hands back in Logans. "More then every lie, secret and promise I have ever made."

The officiant turned back to Logan, "Please say your vows."

Logan felt his heart throb as he opened his mouth,

"Janus. In the very very long time that I have known you, I find myself falling more in love with you every day. I love how you laugh. I love how when you're tired you curl up to my side. I love how you stay by my side through it all. My translation from a light side to dark, my learning cerve to our new family, every dilemma from the others that we have to enviably fix.

Every night, every day, every hour, every minute, every second. You occupy my mind. And god Janus, I never want you to leave it.

I love you. I love you more then Perseus loved Andromeda." Logan's eyes were shining with unshed tears, he lightly squeezed Janus' hands. "I love you Janus and I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you."

The officiant nodded, then he turned to Janus. "Please speak your vows."

Janus drew a shaky breath before speaking.

"Logan, I honestly don't remember when we met. You were my only constant, the unchanging variable that I could always fall back on. You were always there for me and I want to always be there for you.

I love you more then anything Logan. The way you light up when a new documentary comes out, drives butterflies to my stomach. When you laugh, I get lightheaded. When you smile, I get bolts of electricity to my heart. When you take me to the imagination for a date among the stars, I get so love drunk that things get dizzy. When you took me to our favourite place and got on one knee, I cried tears of joy.

There is nothing that I don't love about you. I've always found honest words hard to process. But believe me when I say that I've said no lies to you. You are the one person I will never lie to. I love you more then Andromeda loved Perseus," Janus looked up at Logan. The height difference apparent, but he smiled like he never smiled before. "I love you Logan. And I cannot wait to call you my husband."

The two sides gave eachother looked at eachother with pure adoration and love.

"Please put these rings on eachother."

They could hear Patton's loud sobs in the background as they slipped on the rings.

The officiant smiled wide, "I now pronounce you, Husband and Husband! You may now kiss your groom!"

They flew together like magnets. Logan grabbed the side of Janus' face to pull him closer, the earthy smell of cloves and plums filling his senses. Janus held Logan's arms and pulled him towards him. The kiss was far from chaste, but they pulled apart not long after to be met with......

"NOW YOU GOTTA STRIP AND FU-- OW ROMAN!!"

"NOT AT THE WEDDING YOU BABOON!"

The twins were a very chaotic bunch...

The wedding continued perfectly as planned. Then it came to the father-son dances.

Virgil as Janus were doing well. Virgil was giving Janus his best wishes and telling him how proud he was if him.

Patton and Logan??

Patton always cries at wedding to say the least...

Then it was their turn to dance.

Logan took his husbands hand and led him to the dance floor. It was lit by only fairy lights and the extra bright stars. They twirled and spinned and danced like they was only the two there.

The two battled for the lead before Logan won. Hand now in the swell of Janus' back and leading him in a very elaborate ballroom dance. Janus' scales glowing a bright yellow. Even over the music you could hear their laughter.

Patton and Virgil stood on the sidelines. Watching as their children had their fun. Virgil hummed slightly, "you owe me twenty bucks Patt."

Patton was very confused, he hadn't made any new bets recently or borrowed any money. "Why is that kiddo?"

Virgil turned and looked at Patton, "Ten years ago, you bet me that Lo and Jan would never get married. You owe me a twenty."

Patton grumbled slightly as he pulled a bill from his jacket pocket and handed it over. "This is the best bet I've ever lost then."

Virgil laughed, purple beginning to dust under his eyes. "You got that right," He took two glasses of champagne from the waiters walking by, "To our beloved children?"

Patton took the glass and raised it with Virgil. "To our beloved children." they then took a long sip and continued to watch as the couple danced.

The stars shining above, the moon full. They loved eachother more then Perseus and Andromeda.

-------

I. REGRET. NOTHING!!!

I also have 0 self control soo

The charcters are very ooc... But I don't overly care.

💙💛💙💛💙💛💙💛

20 notes · View notes

joonsdiary · 4 years ago

Text

the ceo’s keeper

↳ part three of the: (not) the love of my life series

pairing: seokjin x reader (female) genre: arranged marriage au // humour with a dash of fluff and sprinkle of angst word count: 5,8k

chapter summary: visiting seokjin in his Tower of Terror™ reveals he carries a lot more baggage than you intend to claim.

warning. alcohol consumption, a few curse words here and there; nothing worth putting the mature tag but i’d still advice to proceed with caution.

note. putting it out there since i don’t think i’ve mentioned it before, but this fic was initially inspired by yuna’s (not) the love of my life. just putting it out there as a song rec in case you’ve not heard it yet!

the proposal | the first date | the ceo’s keeper | the engagement

“Guess who’s in the front cover of Daily Gossip and is trending number one in the search engines?” Taehyung barged into Seokjin's office early Monday morning a few seconds after Mina phoned his arrival. His brother plopped himself in the plush leather chair across his office table, lifting one leg to rest it on top of the other.

Seokjin didn’t have to guess as he often donned the front cover of plenty of tabloids. But not because of anything work-related, which he never really understood. Were his date nights that interesting to many people? Must be, if they were constantly writing about it. He then remembered your quip a few days ago regarding his ‘date’ with the president’s daughter but was quickly reminded that a certain Yoongi had told you about it. The corner of his lips curled downwards.

“Aren’t I always on the front cover?” he doesn’t even bother to look up as he spoke while continuing to type endlessly on his keyboard. If there was one thing he hated about his job, it would have to be coordinating e-mails. He would usually allocate the task to Mina, but certain emails that contain sensitive information would have to be drafted by him.

“Yes, but, hear this—” Taehyung cleared his throat for effect and shifted in his seat, holding his phone in front of him theatrically, “Seoul’s most eligible bachelor’s newest FLING is somebody you won’t expect!”

“As I said, it’s nothing new,” he deadpanned.

Taehyung chastised him with a shush before continuing.

“Kim Seokjin’s date du jour – I’m pretty sure they used the word in the wrong context here – is the twenty-four-year-old hotelier – wait, she’s that young?”

“I can’t interrupt you, but you keep stopping yourself for your little commentaries,” Seokjin grumbled as he hit the send button, only partially listening to Taehyung. “And she’s practically the same age as you.”

“Yes, but an owner, albeit previously, of a hotel? That’s pretty impressive.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark, but one of the reasons why he’d agree to this whole masquerade in the first place is due to your reputation. You were a woman of class and grace in spite of your moderate — for a lack of a better term — upbringing. As far as he was concerned, you were respected among the elites; the perfect remedy to clear his name of his tarnished credibility, which he blames solely on the tabloids. Whoever he chooses to go on a date with, no matter how frequently the person changed every week, was no one’s business but his.

Yet the camera lenses never strayed too far from him wherever he went. It was tedious and stupid because he wasn’t some celebrity who craved attention. Yet he had to make peace with the fact because the board of directors was all about reputation instead of the actual work that Seokjin put into elevating the company.

“Anyway, back to the gossip,” Taehyung scrolled down further on his screen, “blah, blah – oh! We have a feeling she’s special because unlike his other dates, he brought her to his upscale restaurant, Chateau – You had dinner at Mom’s restaurant? That is certainly news.”

The fact that Taehyung still referred to it as ‘Mom’s restaurant’ brought warmth in Seokjin’s chest.

“It was a last-minute decision. She said she went on a date at the place you suggested the night before.”

“That is also news,” Taehyung said, teasing. “Do tell me the details, dear brother.”

“Apparently it was a move to get under her parent’s skin. It was shortly before she knew of my proposal, obviously. Nothing much to spill.”

“Mhm,” the smirk lingered on Taehyung’s lips, but he pressed on with the article. He quietly read with his eyes for a while before blurting out an expletive, which caused Seokjin to look up momentarily from his screen.

“What?”

Taehyung sighed as he squinted at his brother, reciting the text verbatim. “But their rendezvous, however, ended early with them parting ways; he headed straight to Kim Hotel after dropping her off. Does this mean the night didn’t go as they’d planned? Will she be another date-and-dash for our handsome CEO-to-be?”

“Date-and-dash,” Seokjin scoffed before laughing in disbelief. “That might be the best term they’ve come up with so far.”

“Yeah, well, we don’t want everybody to think this is another date-and-dash for you.”

“I’m only worried about Dad’s opinion. Everybody else can think whatever they want.”

“They can still hire an outsider as CEO.”

“Dad wouldn’t let them do that.”

“There’s only so much power he can hold. That’s what the board of directors is for.”

He paused, letting Taehyung’s words simmer. His brother never bothered much for the corporate side of the business, opting to delve more into his artistic side. He was responsible for much of the interior design of any and every Kim Hotel they decided to build, but that’s about it as far as his contribution went. If Taehyung was content and satisfied with whatever he chose, then so was Seokjin.

“You’re right,” Seokjin’s lips pursed, hating the admission.

“Aren’t I always?” Taehyung snorts before sighing and putting his phone away. “You’re going to have to put a little bit more pep in your step, as the saying goes, if you want to make this look more sincere than it actually is.”

Seokjin contemplated the implication of the word sincere. He thought he had been as truthful as possible in his interaction with you two nights prior. His conversation with you ebbed seamlessly, save for the second half of the night where you discussed business. It had been the sincerest interaction he had with a woman whom he didn’t have to bed that same night as he normally would. The farthest he’d gone with you so far was a chaste kiss on the forehead, which he deemed you were uncomfortable with.

“Should I make out with her on our next date, then?” Seokjin quipped. He didn’t mean it seriously, but the delighted look in his brother’s face told him they weren’t on the same page. “I was kidding, V.”

He threw the nickname out with an ill-intention, knowing how much Taehyung resented it. His brother sighed, slumping on the chair and mussing his curly locks. It baffled Seokjin how one could grow their hair out past their eyebrows, but it seemed to suit Taehyung, nonetheless, fitting with the artistic look he was trying to accomplish.

“It’s something to talk to her about. If she’s comfortable with it, then why the hell not?” Taehyung shrugged, tugging at his turtleneck.

Would you even be open to the idea? Hell, you’re bound to get married in less than three weeks, but he hadn’t entertained the thought. All the women he’s dated so far knew what to expect of him, and vice versa: sex after dinner. That was the mantra.

“I don’t know, Taehyung…” he trailed off.

It’s not that he thought of you as a prude, but his arrangement with you had strictly been business, and Seokjin was the type not to mix the two. He never pried with anything past surface level with the women he had relationships with; he never stayed long enough to know. Or he wasn’t interested enough to stay and get past the tip of the iceberg.

He no longer wanted to entertain the idea of forever with somebody, and longevity isn’t something he’s interested in. Been there, done that. Not exactly his cup of tea — he’d learned the hard way. Best he moved along.

“Fine, but mild contact is still on the table. You didn’t even hold her hand, according to the article.”

“I did,” Seokjin said defensively. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure, and that was a problem in and of itself.

“Tell her, Jin.”

“I will if it gets you off my back. Now kindly screw off,” he grinned at his inside joke before continuing. “I have a meeting with a contractor in five minutes.”

“Ouch, since when do you use such harsh words, dear brother?” Taehyung whined, clasping the front of this sweater with his hand. He straightened up, nonetheless, slipping his phone in the pocket of his black slacks. “Jeju?”

Seokjin nodded, opening another email that needed a return message.

“Shouldn’t Namjoon be here for that?”

“I already called him this morning. He’s still having way too much fun in Switzerland, but he’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“Taeri’s probably mad that you’re pulling her husband away from her so early after their wedding.” Taehyung laughed as he shook his head, but Seokjin only grinned.

“It’s been two months. He has to come back. This operation doesn’t run itself; I’ll have you know.”

Taehyung dismissed him with a passive, “Yeah, yeah.”

There’s a pause, and Seokjin furrowed his brows at his brother’s sudden teasing expression.

“But I still can’t believe he got married before you.” Taehyung pointed an accusing finger at him, and Seokjin laughed.

“I can’t believe it either. He’s certainly way worse than I am.”

“But better at break-ups than you are. You just leave them hanging,” Taehyung squinted his eyes with indignation. Seokjin gives his brother a tight-lipped smile.

“Not entirely true. I technically don’t do the whole dating thing officially. What’s more, I give them—”

“Mr. Kim, your ten-thirty is here,” Mina’s voice crackled through the phone. Seokjin sighed in relief, grateful for once that he was being interrupted with another meeting.

“I guess that’s my cue,” Taehyung turned, his Gucci loafers dragging him halfway through the office. “Don’t forget to tell Y/N.”

“I won’t. She’s stopping by later.”

“Oh? I should stick around, then.”

“We don’t need your constant badgering, thank you very much.” He called out, but Taehyung was already out of his office by then.

* * *

You had never been to the Kim Hotel before, there was simply no reason to step foot into one of their many copy-and-paste buildings that dotted the entire country. You joked to Seokjin a few nights ago about the hotel being his tower, but the building was indeed massive, which would make sense seeing that they are billionaires, after all. They wouldn’t have a measly bed-and-breakfast type of hotel like you do. You stood rooted to the ground, squinting up the massive fortress.

(You’d think at some point they’d have to consider the safety of the poor birds that get confused and end up slamming themselves into its reflective windows, but that seemed like a thought for another day.)

Pushing aside all the uneasy feeling that bubbled from your stomach, you collected yourself mentally and pushed through the revolving doors. It was exactly like you thought it was — the pinnacle of contemporary interior design. Everything blended seamlessly, uncluttered and unbearably white it was practically blinding you. Not wanting to be caught ogling the furniture, you made your way to the steel elevators, punching the button to the highest floor. Seokjin didn’t give you any details as to where his office is located, but surely the highest floor of this gargantuan building would belong to him. The doors slid open after what seemed like a lifetime, and you were greeted with a curt voice.

“Do you have an appointment?”

You blinked, unsure of what to say. “I believe so. My name is—”

“Finally! I thought you’d never arrive,” a brunette with an uncharacteristically wavy hair came bumbling out of what you assumed was a boardroom office. His hands were buried in the pocket of his loosely fitted slacks and an easygoing aura surrounded him. His presence was unmistakable, and despite not sharing the same facial features as Seokjin, you could tell who it was.

“Taehyung?”

His eyes lit up when you said his name as his lips formed into an attractive smile. He turned to Seokjin’s secretary.

“Mina, darling,” he said languidly, but the female did not bat her mascaraed eyelashes. “Will you let us in?”

Ah, so this was the lady you spoke with on the phone when you’d initially tried to get a hold of Seokjin. She seemed less terrifying when you met her face to face; her hair is pulled back in a low ponytail and she wore minimal makeup. She looked friendlier than she sounded, why were you afraid of calling, again?

“Mr. Kim is in a meeting right now,” she busied herself with her work while she spoke. “If you’d wait a moment—”

“But Mina, baby,” Taehyung crooned, leaning over her desk perhaps a little too close. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at his antics; he’s certainly quite different from how Seokjin acted. Whereas Seokjin kept himself aloof most of the time, Taehyung wore his emotions on his sleeve. Both are still unabashedly forward, nonetheless.

Mina stayed impassive, and you can tell why Seokjin hired her to guard his lair — the woman could not be cracked. You admitted to yourself that if Taehyung were to charm your pants off, you’d be completely hooked.

His efforts were rendered futile, however, when the wooden doors of Seokjin’s office opened and gave way to an ebony-haired woman. She was in the middle of securing her wool coat as her heels echoed with confidence through the marble floors, side-stepping to get around you but not before flashing you a lithe smile. The self-assurance you held before walking into the building had all but withered away.

“Taehyung.” She greeted him, but he only stared at her with an impassive gaze. “It’s nice seeing you around here.”

She headed straight to the elevators and disappeared even before you could blink.

“I didn’t think she’d be here today,” Taehyung mumbled.

“She’s the president’s daughter, right?” you asked, not bothering to remember what her name was. Taehyung nodded.

Strictly business my ass. You didn’t want to care, but your all-too-sudden sour mood said otherwise.

You push past the same wooden doors as the woman had earlier and you find Seokjin propped to his desk, hair slicked back, forehead taut in concentration as he focused on whatever was on his screen. If he’d been doing The Deed, you don’t think he’d look as put together as he currently does. That much was enough for you to relax into his leather chaise. Taehyung followed closely, opting to sit on the couch on the far side of the room.

“Future wife, how are you today?” Seokjin began, and you’re irritated slightly by his refusal to set aside whatever he was doing.

“About as well as one can be while visiting their corporate shark fiancé, Mr. Kim. You?”

Taehyung barked out a laugh from where he sat, and you patted yourself on the back. It’s the little accomplishments, you mused to yourself.

Seokjin’s head snapped at Taehyung and he gave his brother a glare that sliced through the room.

“I told you that you’re not needed here today, Taehyung.”

Taehyung ignored Seokjin, clutching his stomach as he wiped away imaginary tears. “Damn, can I be married to her instead?”

“I don’t like the idea of me being thrown around like a piece of meat for your amusement,” you deadpanned, and Taehyung straightened up quickly.

“I didn’t mean to offend, Sis. I only wanted to rile Jin up for my amusement.”

You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he gave you another million-dollar smile. Seokjin sighed as he stood, buttoning up the blazer of his suit. He picked up a manila envelope that was on the edge of his desk before rounding the table.

“You don’t have to sign today. You can take it home and read it over with a lawyer if you want.” He hands you the files before leaning back into the glass table. You shook your head as you pulled out the documents with confidence. If there had been one thing you learned from your parents, it was how to properly read official documents without glossing over important details. Legal documents often used extensive jargon, and you could easily tell they were drafted by actual lawyers. It gave you a tiny bit of relief that he wasn’t trying to scam you.

Your fingers skimmed your hotel’s name in print, somehow unable to wrap your mind around the fact that you no longer owned it. But the promise was clear in ink under commencement of your divorce: your hotel would be yours.

“Do you need one?” Your head lifted to meet Seokjin’s gaze after minutes of silence. He offered a fountain pen that glinted against the afternoon sun as he moved it closer to you. You felt a wave of emotions suddenly overwhelming you, and you blink up at him before shaking your head.

“Maybe I should look it over with a lawyer, after all,” you mumbled while giving him a timid smile. He nodded in understanding and moved back behind his desk.

“It’s no pressure at all.”

“It’s not that… I just,” you inhaled through your nose and out through your mouth. Between revealing your true feelings or lightening the mood with a banter, you chose the latter. “I just want to make sure you’re not hiding any tricks up your sleeves, Mr. Kim.”

“I’m not one to joke around with things like this, Ms. Hwang,” Seokjin said pointedly, and you frowned. Okay, not the mood I was going for.

“That’s true; he doesn’t. He’s as uptight as they come.” Taehyung quipped, rising from his comfortable spot before plopping beside you. He patted your shoulders, almost apologetically. “You’ll get used to him.”

“I highly doubt that,” you snorted, stuffing the papers back in their envelope. “I have no interest in being the CEO’s keeper.”

Taehyung peeled back from you for another belly laugh, and Seokjin rolled his eyes. “I’m right here, you know.”

Taehyung waved him off dismissively and turned back to you. “I wish we’d met under different circumstances, Y/N.”

There was a wicked gleam in Taehyung’s eyes, but you knew he was being playful rather than having malicious intent.

“Didn’t you say there was something else you wanted to talk about, V?” Seokjin’s voice was seething, which caused Taehyung’s grin to grow wider.

“Right, right,” he shifted in his seat as he whipped out his phone. “I made notes, hold on.”

“What’s this about?” you looked between the brothers with confusion.

“Apparently we did the whole ‘date’ thing wrong.” Seokjin deadpanned, rolling his eyes before he turned back to his work.

“Meaning?”

“One, lack of intimacy,” it was Taehyung who answered, and you blush at his comment. You’re reminded of how Seokjin had pulled you against him the moment you stepped out of the car.

“Going excessive on the first date would’ve made it seem disingenuous,” you pointed out, and Seokjin mumbled in agreement.

“Do you not know how Jin usually is with his former dates?” Taehyung asked, which froze Seokjin mid-type.

“I don’t make the habit of reading gossip blogs and tabloids for celebrities,” you mumbled, hoping they bought into your pretense of being calm. In your head you prayed Taehyung wouldn’t elaborate; the image of Seokjin with other women made you want to hurl your guts out. “I could honestly care less.”

“Right,” Taehyung gave you a slanted gaze, and you shrugged. “Please keep in mind to give a little bit more, next time, then.”

“Will do, Chief,” Seokjin grumbled, massaging his temples with both his hands.

“Second, no going home separately, especially since news of your engagement will hit the public this week.”

You fidgeted in your seat, the air in the room suddenly growing warmer.

“There’s a spare room in the penthouse suite,” Seokjin motioned at a door on the other side of his office with his chin. “The bathroom is always stocked with amenities in case—”

The word in case hung in the air like a thick fog, and Seokjin did not have to finish the sentence for you to figure out what he was trying to get at. The message was clear. But to be quite frank, you couldn’t care less. Right before agreeing to the arrangement, it was clear that Seokjin was that type of man, so it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that he would bring women to his home, which also happened to be where his office was. Yet, there was an uncomfortable prickle in your heart and your palm unintentionally raised to soothe the phantom pain.

“I’m alright with taking a spare office or something. I’ll work for a few hours then head home past midnight. That should raise enough eyebrows, right?” you hoped neither one of them noticed the slight quiver in your voice.

Taehyung must have sensed it because his voice grew quiet. “Okay, I’m sure you two will work something out. That’s it, for now. I’m going to assume the rest will come naturally.”

You had a feeling he had a longer list but opted to be sensible enough to feel your mood shift. Seokjin didn’t say anything, but the lack of clicking noises coming from his direction told you he’s not working, either. You turned, locking gazes with him, but he remained expressionless which irritated you more than you’d like to admit.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave,” you brushed imaginary lint off your high-waisted slacks as you stood up.

“So soon?” Taehyung pouted, earning a small laugh from you. The nerves were slowly dissipating, and you were glad.

“I have a date,” you paused, gauging Seokjin’s reaction. The scowl on his face made you smirk. “With some classmates from uni. Gotta keep up with the social circle if I want occasional help with my thesis, right?”

While that was true, the dinner isn’t until three hours from now. But you had no plans to stay here a minute longer; the tense air was suffocating you.

“Don’t be a stranger, Sis.” Taehyung engulfed you in a warm hug and you patted his back, chuckling in amusement.

“See you around, Taehyung.” As you pulled away, you gave Seokjin a slanted gaze. “I’ll give the papers back as soon as I can.”

You wobbled slightly as you headed for the door, disappointed that Seokjin didn’t stop you. He didn’t even bid you farewell. You scoffed.

“Have a good afternoon, Ms. Hwang.” Mina greeted you as you made your way to the elevator. You turned back to her with a genuine smile.

“You as well.”

+++

The pulsing beat of the music had your head throbbing with pain, but you didn’t think it’d be wise to complain. Especially because you couldn’t quite look Seokjin in the eyes for reasons completely unknown to you. Or perhaps you did know, you just chose not to dwell on them.

Two days after your productive visit to Seokjin’s Tower of Terror, your calendar graciously reminded you of another date you’ve set up with him. There was supposed to be a lunch date the day prior, but due to unforeseen circumstances (more so on his part rather than yours), you both agreed to have it cancelled. He apologized, but you dismissed him and said that you forgot that your mother had asked you to visit her and your father, anyways.

(In reality, she hadn’t and was delighted you called to say you were bringing them take-outs for lunch.)

“Wednesday nights are busier than I thought,” Seokjin mused, pulling you out of your mini daydream. You looked up, which proved to be a mistake because the club’s lights flickered in a way that accentuated his features; his straight nose that’s angled between his ever-so-prominent cheekbones. His fringe was down that evening — a sight that you have not yet witnessed. It made him seem younger than his actual age; more laidback, less prim and proper. In any other given scenario, this would not disarm you, but the occasional spark of colour highlighted how close his face was from yours.

In other words, you really ought to get used to being in close proximity to him if you were to continue this ordeal.

“It’s always full of people, no matter the day.”

Seokjin’s brows furrowed as his head dipped, inching his ears closer. You knew you’d flinch away if his arm wasn’t draped around your shoulders. “What was that?”

“I said it doesn’t matter what day it is — it’s always full here,” his scent made you feel more inebriated than the alcohol you held. You found it surprising that Kim Seokjin is not much into the club scene, thinking that people like him often spend half their time wasting away

He whipped his head to meet your gaze once more, a grin forming on his lips. “Of course, you’d know.”

There was something in the tone of his voice that made you want to defend yourself. “I have a social life too, Mr. Kim.”

“I never said you didn’t. But you’re more of a designated driver type rather than the drunk, party all night type of gal. Am I right?”

Your eye twitched in annoyance. Was he really stereotyping you now?

“You don’t know the half of it, Kim Seokjin,” you mutter, unsure whether he heard you or not. But you didn’t care, and instead proceeded to finish your margarita in one chug. You set down on the glass table in front of you before peeling yourself off of him and the velvet sofa. The desire to prove you weren’t prude — despite him not saying it outright — felt greater than your sense of logic and reasoning.

You wobbled slightly as all the blood in your system rushed to your brain. But you managed to steady yourself as you turned back to Seokjin. He watched you with interest, but his lips remained sealed in a grin.

“I do like being the designated driver at times. No shame in keeping my friends safe. Am I right?” you pushed Seokjin’s shoulder with one finger until his back hit the plush sofa. There was no turning back, you realized, when your leather skirt hitched higher as you placed your knees one after the other, effectively trapping him between your thighs. Alcohol was definitely coursing through your veins as you sat on his lap.

It never occurred to you that you’d be so brazen in front of Kim Seokjin. But here you were with your cheeks flushed and heart hammering wildly against your chest, wanting so desperately to prove that his expectations of you were wrong.

“But I can also have fun without being shit-faced.” The less you think about it, the better it was for you not to get embarrassed. So, you ignore his smug, seemingly unfazed expression as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

You were convinced you’ve only got one functioning brain cell left. But if Taehyung were present to judge, you knew he would gag with approval.

“Is that so?” Seokjin played along, and you weren’t entirely shocked; the man was probably used to such endeavours on a nightly basis before your arrangement. He placed his palm against the small of your back, and instead of pulling away, you leaned closer. Being this promiscuous in private was nothing new for you, but never when you knew there were several eyes trained on you like a hawk.

“Shall we give them something to write about, fiancé?” your eyes trailed down to his lips before meeting his gaze once more. You knew he wouldn’t oppose, but you still needed his consent. He nodded with a glint of amusement in his eyes and the next thing you knew, your lips were in his. He was firm and unwavering, slightly aggressive but he damn well knew what he was doing. It felt as if he'd set your body on fire with one singular moment.

You broke away first, eyes seeing but unfocused as you heaved a sigh, lungs welcoming the sweet taste of oxygen. Seokjin chuckled as he studied you with newfound interest, surprisingly well put together compared to you.

“Are you alright?”

“Mhm,” you peeled back from him, pulling your leather skirt down in the process. “That’s probably enough to placate the onlookers.”

You looked around, but the dim lights made it hard to see beyond a few meters. Seokjin followed your actions, and you feel the familiar warmth emanating from him once more. His arm was draped around you once more, but the gesture felt natural this time around. The mere smile he gave you was enough to send butterflies drifting in your stomach. You wouldn’t dare to admit it out loud, but at least you wouldn’t have to pretend to be attracted to him.

* * *

“Birthday?”

“Couldn’t you have just googled this? I’m sure I have a Wikipedia page.” Seokjin said, quite peeved that you didn’t know his birthday yet, when he’d memorized yours: May 24, 1996. You gave him a deadpan look and he sighed defeatedly. “December 4.”

“Year?”

“Seriously?”

You said nothing, opting to dip a fry in your Oreo-flavoured ice cream instead. He wasn’t surprised when you asked to ditch the club to eat, citing that you’d puke your guts out if you didn’t get any food in your system. He didn’t think you meant McDonald’s at midnight.

“1992.”

“Was that so hard?” you mumbled, typing the information on your phone. “Your birthday is coming up soon.”

“If by soon you mean two months from now, then yes.”

“Technically, it’s the seventh today, so it’s less than two months,” you pointed out but didn’t wait for him to return the conversation. “Favourite colour?”

“Are you writing a slam book? Would you like to know who my celebrity crush is, as well?” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, actually. Let me guess; is it Florence Pugh? Ana de Armas? Brad Pitt? Or someone local…Jun Jihyun?” you mused. He only shook his head at your antics, convinced that you were not fully sober yet. “I’m kidding. I’m just filling out your contact information.”

You slid your phone across the table, which landed perfectly in front of him. True to your words, most of the information was filled out: Rapunzel donned the first name, and nothing was filled out for the last name option. He chuckled but didn’t bother changing it to his actual name and proceeded to input his number.

“That was smooth, Y/n, I must admit. You couldn’t have just asked for it straight up?”

You shrugged. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He handed your phone back, and moments later, his phone buzzed in his jean pockets. He opened the message — no doubt it had been from you.

𝗂 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗏𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 “𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾” ;)

Seokjin simply shook his head; it felt unfamiliar for him to be smiling so much he could feel his cheeks go numb. If he knew how amusing it would be to go on a fake-real-date with you, he would’ve asked his father to set him up with you.

Wait, what?

He turned two strides back, retrieving the steps he made. Certainly, you couldn’t have grown on him so quickly — but in reality, it felt like that for a while now, whether he wanted to admit it or not. He thought the whole ordeal with you would be cumbersome, but it’s been quite the opposite so far. He commended your tenacity to go along with any plans he’s laid out, so far.

That’s because you’re holding her hotel hostage.

To be quite frank, it would’ve been none of his business if he decided not to meddle with his father’s whims. But he’d honestly rather be divorced and have his father lash out at him than be stuck in some arrangement he didn’t want. While it’s true that he could divorce you, either way, the key was the illusion of being in love. As Taehyung kindly pointed out to him: How devastating would it be that you both fell out of love, that they won’t consider rescinding the CEO position once you have it?

The stories would circulate around the heartbreak, instead of the bluff that was his arranged marriage for the sake of saving face.

Although now that he was sitting across from you as he watched you relentlessly dip your fried potatoes in your ice cream for the umpteenth time, the prospect of being married to you no longer felt as daunting. Especially if you were willing to make out with him on occasion as you had earlier. It wasn’t part of the contract, but he was willing to add the extra clause if you’d agree.

“What do you have that creepy grin for, Mr. Kim Seokjin?”

“I’m thinking of taking you home with me tonight, Ms. Hwang.” Seokjin’s satisfaction was evident in his smirk when he saw your eyes widen. He swore he saw you go through five emotions in the span of a mere second.

“Stop teasing. It’s not funny.”

He watched your already blushed cheeks turn a shade deeper as he chuckled. “I’m not teasing. Taehyung’s rules, remember?”

“Oh, right,” you blinked at him blankly. “I forgot to bring my laptop with me so I can have something to work with.”

“You were serious about occupying an office space?” he gawked, brows knitted.

“I was. I’m not sleeping over in your Mistress Suite.” You said in a monotone voice, but the indignation in your eyes told Seokjin you were more than serious — you were offended. At least he could tell that much.

“That name has a nice ring to it. Do you mind if I start calling it that, instead of just the guest room?” The pointed look you gave him made him think you were less than amused with his banter. Seokjin sighed and stood up, motioning for you to follow. “Don’t worry, no one has stayed there for two weeks.”

“I really didn’t need to know,” you grumbled. Seokjin reached out for you to take his hand.

“I’m sure you didn’t. But I’d still like to let you know that I wouldn’t do anything that would jeopardize this arrangement.”

That was part of the truth. The other part came in the form of his animosity towards infidelity. Seokjin genuinely hoped you didn’t think he would cheat on you during the span of your agreement. He had issues committing, yes, but he couldn’t begin to imagine inflicting such pain on another person. Not when he’s had firsthand experience on the subject.

It reassured him that there was an end to your charade, a point where he can say checkmate and the game would be over. Commitment still has to be made, for sure, but nothing that would leave him like an empty husk of his former self afterwards. No monsters under the bed, no skeletons in the closet, either.

You slid off the booth but did not take his outstretched hand, so he casually stuffed in his pocket. You were setting your limits, and he had to respect that. Perhaps the silly extra clause he thought of will not be a necessity, after all.

NEXT ;

thanks for reading this chapter. feedback is always appreciated! ♡

#seokjin fic #seokjin scenarios #jin scenario #seokjin scenario #bts scenarios #bangtan scenario #jin scenarios #seokjin fanfic #jin fanfic #seokjin x reader #bts fanfic #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #seokjin smut #jin #seokjin #taehyung scenario #writing

92 notes · View notes

etirabys · 5 years ago

Text

I read about a very cute and strange online marriage match in Age of Ambition. Before I jump into how they met, let me introduce one half of the couple, a woman named Gong Haiyan (born Hainan) – she was very entrepreneurial as a child and ended up founding a very popular e-dating service right when China was starting to use the internet. (While writing this post I discovered this particular chapter was also a New Yorker article.)

Gong Hainan was born at the foot of a mountain in the village of Waduangang, in Hunan, the home province of Chairman Mao. Her parents met under benighted circumstances. During the Cultural Revolution, they were paired with each other because they shared a political affliction: their families had been classified as “well-off peasants.” A village matchmaker put them together. Gong’s family raised peanuts and cotton and chickens and pigs.

...

When her neighbors began to open tiny businesses, Gong badgered her parents to let her join the trend. They laughed. “We have three neighbors, and a mountain behind us. Who is going to shop here?” they asked. Undeterred, Gong enlisted her little brother, Haibin, into a business proposition: They would buy ice pops and resell them door-to-door. After one day of lugging a thirty-pound Styrofoam cooler around the rutted village paths, her brother quit. “I could’ve beaten him half to death and he wouldn’t go out again,” she said. But Gong made a map of the village that identified which parents were known to cave in to their kids’ demands, and she charted the optimal route. Soon she was selling two boxes a day. “Whatever you’re doing,” she concluded, “you have to be strategic.”

(I freaking love this kid)

When Gong was sixteen, her test scores earned her a place at the top local high school, a transformative moment for a farming family. Shortly before school was to start, she was riding into town on a tractor-taxi, on her way to restock her ice pop supply, when the tractor plunged into a ditch. The other passengers were thrown clear, but she had been sitting on the front bench. Her right leg was crushed, and her nose was nearly severed. She would recover, but when she got out of the hospital, wearing a hip cast, she discovered that a rural school could not accommodate a student unable to walk. The school suggested she withdraw.

Gong’s mother, Jiang Xiaoyuan, would have none of it. She moved into the dorm and carried her daughter on her back—up and down the stairs to the classrooms, back and forth to the toilet. (Gong trained herself to use the bathroom no more than twice a day.) While Gong was in class, her mother hustled outside to the street to sell fruit from baskets to make extra money. I wondered if the story was a metaphor, until I met her mother. “There was one especially tall building, the laboratory, and her class was up on the fourth floor,” Jiang said, scowling at the memory of it. Gong had never seriously considered an alternative. “School was the only way out,” Jiang told me. “We never wanted for her to work in the fields like us.”

For some reason she ends up dropping out to work in a factory in a big town, does as well as she can as a migrant for a few years, but changes her mind when it becomes apparent how limited migrants’ opportunities are, and re-enrolls in school.

She had to get to a city. She said, “I decided to go back to school.” “Everyone in the village was against the idea,” she went on. “They said, ‘You’re a twenty-one-year-old woman. Go and get married!’” In the village hierarchy, the only person who ranked lower than a young woman was a young woman who had something better in mind for her future. But her parents supported her decision, and the school allowed her to reenroll in the eleventh grade. She scored the highest rank in the county on the national college entrance test, and earned a coveted spot at Peking University[, eventually gets a master's degree in journalism]

(I’m so emotional about her parents, guys, I actually teared up in the restaurant I was reading this in. Good job for supporting your incredibly talented motivated daughter in a social milieu where that’s not a normal thing to do!)

Then she founds her e-dating service. It was so popular she got profiles snailmailed in from rural hopefuls who wanted to join.

Gong was nothing like the other Web entrepreneurs I knew in China. For one thing, the top ranks of Chinese technology were dominated by men. And unlike others who glimpsed the potential of the Internet in China, she didn’t speak fluent English. She didn’t even have a degree in computer science. She still had a trace of the countryside about her. She spoke at high volume, except before crowds, when her voice trembled. She was five feet three, still with narrow shoulders, and when she talked about her business, I got the feeling that she was talking about herself. “We’re not like you foreigners, who make friends easily in a bar or go traveling and chat up a stranger,” she told me. “This is not about messing around for fun. Our membership has a very clear goal: to get married.”

That was a bit of background but hopefully it was worth it – she’s an extraordinary woman. She finds her husband on the dating service she founded, and it’s just so dense with hilarious detail –

(Guo’s posting reads as absurdly, bare-facedly picky to me, but the book lists other examples of postings on that dating website, and his criteria and phrasing are not at all atypical for Chinese men and women using the service.)

Not long after Gong Haiyan launched her business, a posting caught her eye: “Seeking a wife, 1.62 meters tall, above-average looks, graduate degree.”

The seeker was a postdoc, studying fruit flies. He liked to exercise, and he attached a jokey photograph of himself flexing his triceps in front of his lab bench. “He had the whole package,” Gong told me. Then she looked at his requirements and discovered, “I didn’t meet a single one.” She decided to answer him anyway, in a pose of high confidence. “Your announcement is not well written,” she wrote. “Even if someone meets all those requirements, she’ll think you’re picky.”

The man’s name was Guo Jianzeng, and he was embarrassed. “I’ve never written anything like this, and I don’t quite know what I’m doing,” he replied. Gong volunteered to polish his announcement. “After polishing,” she told me, “I could think of exactly four girls in the world who met the criteria, including me.”

GET HIM, GONG HAIYAN

Guo Jianzeng was thirty-three and shy. When they met, his phone had eight numbers stored in it. He was not a born romantic—his first gift to her was a replacement for a pair of broken spectacles—and he was not rich; he had less than four thousand dollars to his name. But Gong asked him to take an IQ test. She was surprised when he beat her score by five points. She was also moved by the way he cared for his widowed father. On their second date, he proposed marriage to her on the subway.

She rode sidesaddle on the back of his bicycle to the Ministry of Civil Affairs, where they paid nine yuan for a marriage certificate. The ceremony took ten minutes. Instead of a wedding ring, he bought her a laptop.

Nerds! Smart weirdos in a culture that I find alien (and sometimes horrible), doing recognizable smart weirdo things!

#rambl #eti reads stuff #eti reads age of ambition #sampl #more notes than usual

300 notes · View notes

baekchelor · 5 years ago

Text

ａｓｈｏｒｅ[ii]

pairing: bodevan cash x reader genre: Doctor! AU, Romance, Angst summary: After a fall out with your fianceé, and an opportunity to chase your dreams, you embark into a medical mission trip to Namibia where you run into self-taught doctor Bodevan Cash. Love ensues. word count: 3.1k

❝how foolish to believe we are more powerful than the sea or the sky. ❞ ― ruta spetys

ONE ｓｅｖｅｎｄａｙｓ

◄ ｐｒｅｖ

You really, really hope some patient shows up today. That the doorbell announces the arrival of a doctor seeker. That you will be able to aid someone apart from the hangover teen (also staying at the Shipwreck Lodge Hotel, three cabins left from yours) who came looking for aspirins and serum. That you didn't cross the ocean on a medical mission trip only to crawl back into Ethan's arms drown-and-out —no adventures, no anecdotes, no experiences or anything for the matter.

You groan out loud, a stream of curses following shortly after. It's been seven days since your arrival to Möwe Bay, Namibia. Seven days of only you, your self-destructive mind and Guns N' Roses playing on the stereo (the single thing that has kept you sane).

"This trip was supposed to take my attention away from you," the words are purled and aimed to the exquisite ring around your finger. At the sight of it, your heart drops lower into your stomach. This been useless. You're trapped with your thoughts in the middle of nowhere. The sand dunes were chosen for their location, there was supposed to be no hospitals, no dispensaries, no medical aid...Nothing! Apparently, there's also no patients. Hence, no distractions. Which means? More time to stare at your flipping engagement ring.

Frustrated, you close your eyes and, confirming your hypothesis, the immediate image that triumphs the darkness is Ethan's blue eyes lighting up as you gasped —amidst weeps— at the ring. The one nowadays, you tend to resent.

The memory sends your stomach into knots. How are you supposed to make amends with Ethan's hidden truth if you can't bring your mind elsewhere? Far, far away from the burn around your knuckles each time the ring appears on your range of vision.

Ethan supported your decision to embark on a trip alone. He knows joining Doctors Without Borders was a dream of yours, and that marrying a Surgeon Chief would make it unreachable. The main reason you asked and he agreed, however, was that you went hysterical when Ethan's soon-to-be ex-wife surprised both of you at the hospital, your hospital—the hospital you worked at.

In a couple months, you will take Ethan Gandy as your husband, and he completely forgot to mention he has been married before. Worse than that, really. He didn't think of sharing with you that he still is married.

Ethan and Harper have been separated for six years, way before you came into the picture, and she knew about your existence all along. The divorce has been in the works since your very first date —or so Ethan says —,and Harper doesn't love Ethan anymore, Ethan loves you and not Harper, and by the time you return to Manhattan, their marriage would've seen its last dawn. Nevertheless, you have yet to make amends with it, chew it the enough to swallow it down your throat until you make sure it will settle in your gut and that you won't throw it up.

You need to. Because you love him.

When Ethan proposed, kneeled beside the fireplace at his hometown in Alaska, not once you considered saying no. It felt meant to be. Both valued your career, both spent more hours at the hospital than at home, but both were willing to make it work. You could handle it, you could make love at the examination rooms, most importantly, you wanted to spend the rest life with him, no matter the sacrifices. Because the truth is, before Ethan, you have only fallen in love with medicine, and he quickly became your very own McDreamy.

You met him during your first year as a Resident. He moved to New York for a fellowship in surgery, and he was brilliant, in every way. You admired him from afar, heard all the wonders he pulled on the O.R until one day you diagnosed a weird case of sudden onset of total vision loss that required urgent surgery. You worked together on the case, medical talk evolved into personal questions, winks, shy smiles on the halls up till Ethan stopped the elevator, cupped both sides of your face, and kissed you. He was ten years older than you, and the age difference didn't prevent him from becoming your very own definition of love. If looks could kill, his would make love to you. Ethan yearned for you, you yearned for him —every day, every hour, every minute. From your skin to your bones, you were his.

Ethan was a goodbye you couldn't say, and you feared —especially when he got promoted to Chief— that at some point your busy schedules would force a breakup, a disagreement, or maybe a stupid fight over a toaster. But then one snowy night, he soothed the worries away when he popped the question at a cabin in the middle of the woods, over a cup of Rioja and the most endearing words. The ring was a dream, with engraved diamonds around a sapphire, because several times during your relationship, you would look up at him with stars in your eyes, and whisper how much you treasure the sapphire blue of his orbs.

It is that shade of blue that ascertained you belong wherever he breathed, but the colour turned grey when his wife —ex-wife— came into your life.

Ah, Ethan has a wife.

You force yourself to neglect the ideas aside, though you can't seem to do so. Ethan doesn't love her, he didn't cheat on her with you, yet... it is hard to acknowledge the man you will marry already waited for a bride to walk down the aisle. Ethan promised to spend the rest of his life with another girl, and he did not fulfil that promise once... What makes you think he will keep his vows to you?

"So much for that," you curse again.

"So much for what?" comes a voice behind you, "I'm plainly in urgent need of Corticosteroids."

You turn on your heels, Guns N' Roses play This I Love, and you face a worried looking man. He has long, brown hair, and the bags under his eyes are a shade of plum. Is he an addict? The perspiration over his forehead and anxiety might be symptoms of withdrawal...He isn't puking, though, and he isn't trembling either. In fact, he seems worried, but he is patiently standing at the doorframe, waiting for your response.

A response you don't seem to form. It could be the song, the waves crashing on the shore, or the fact you only had an Americano as breakfast, but the words have died in your throat, and you're entirely at a loss of action. This weird-looking boy feels magnetic, your body seems made of metal, and there's a force attracting you towards him. Maybe is because he looks out of a movie, with his psychedelic 70's style and the evident social awkwardness aura, but then Axl Rose sings about how he searched the universe and found himself within' her eyes and you realise that the magnet comes from his eyes. They're blue, not sapphire blue, ocean blue and they call to you.

After a second, you clear your throat, "I cannot hand you a drug without a prescription, sir. I need to examine you first."

"The patient isn't myself," he stutters. Hurriedly, he extends a hand your way, "Bodevan Cash."

As soon as your hand gets trapped in his, electricity jolts inside you. To your relief, he cuts it short, shaking your hand briefly. "What are the Corticosteroids for, Mr Cash?"

"Bo. You can call me Bo," right after he finishes, he drags his gaze away from yours. "Shortcut for B-Bodevan." His left foot bounces, anxious, and he's brought up his bottom lip between his teeth. He babbles, and it makes you nervous as well, "Eighteen Year-old. Preeclamptic toxaemia. Twenty weeks of gestation."

You abruptly realise the stethoscope around his neck. Right. He is a doctor.

"How serious?" you blurt. This is your chance to practice medicine. Finally. "I-I'm an internist. I might be of help."

Bodevan glances at you, questioningly, then he returns his attention to the floor, "Are you a Christian?"

For the first time in seven days, you laugh, "No. I am not." The laughter is a gruff, gravelly thing, the kind of chortle you would have expected from an old man, a lifetime smoker, not a successful young doctor who is about to marry the love of her life.

Bo's face pinched up in a crooked smile, "Good." He grabs your coffee cup, takes a big slurp and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Then he is out.

Unsure of what is meant to be your next move, you don't follow him outdoor. Not until he asks you to hasten in a very weirdly-worded polite way.

Bodevan is waiting for you beside his combi, which is parked on a parch of grass beside your cabin. When he spots you, medical kit tightly clasped, he runs around to open the passenger door for you. Once you're close by, he offers a hand to help you up. You ignore if the source of the live wires across your bloodstream is the gentle touch of his calloused fingers or the insides of the van. Your jaw drops. It is dramatically different from Ethan's BMW but in a better way. Bodevan adapted the vehicle into an Examination Room, and the work is so well done and complete it even has a couch so the patients can sit at the reception. <<A reception. Inside. A. Combi.>>

The doctor is now at the drivers-side of the van, the window rolled down. He reaches inside and flips the lock. It takes Bodevan less than a minute to hop inside, and even less to ignite the combi and speed across the sand-path highway.

"Moharerwa. Our Patient," he speaks. "She refuses the induced labour procedure."

It all makes sense now.

"You want the Corticosteroids to buy her time," that's why Bo is in such a hurry, probably also why he is anxious. He needs to medicate her corticosteroid to prolong her pregnancy and help the baby's lungs become more mature in little time to prepare it for life outside the womb. And Bo needs to do it fast, or else Moharerwa's preeclampsia will evolve into eclampsia, and she'll perish.

"The baby's life is the priority?" If she's 20 weeks pregnant, there's no other reason why she isn't on an O.R at this very moment, than to gain more time for her premature baby.

"For her," Bo says, his voice an octave lower. "For me, they both are."

You lean against the hood of the truck, not knowing what to say back, and allowing the classical music blasting from the speakers to continue their excellent job of keeping your thoughts away from Ethan Gandy.

And near the possibilities to save lives today.

Twenty minutes later, Bodevan murmurs —you're having a hard time deciphering if he's mumbling things to himself or to you—, that you've reached the destination. Eyebrows knitted, you wonder if the giant teepee in front of you hides a clinic instead of fancy carpets for a picnic at the Skeleton Coast.

"Let's go," he says, briefly meeting your eyes. As soon as you nod, Bo rushes out of the vehicle and into the teepee. You follow suit, every bit of amazed by your discovers. At least ten people are laying on cots, covered by colourful blankets in tribal patterns, and other five people have beelined at the couch inside Bo's combi. There's a wall with porcelain jars labelled with medicine and herbs names, a chest of drawers with mortars and pestles on its surface, and a portrait of Mao Zedong in the middle of it all.

The weirdness of the surroundings amazes you, but your attention is consumed by Bodevan Cash wearing a white coat, concerned eyes as he exchanges words with a red-skinned pretty girl. She must belong to the Himbas. You've read about the tradition of the Himba women apply red ochre butter to their skin and hair each morning. She is gorgeous, and so is the pregnant girl (Moharerwa, you assume) laying on the cot, where Bodevan is leaned into as he continues talking in an unknown language.

The concern in his gaze is familiar. You've seen it in Ethan's features when his patients are on a thin line against the veil of death.

"Tell Rellian to prepare," he instructs, getting rid of his white coat. You don't know if it's a good idea to chase his trace outside, but your feet didn't wait for your decision.

Bodevan takes his tank-top off, brings his hair into a bun and carefully lays down on the sand. He stares at the ocean as if the motion of the waves would induce the same rhythm to his heart. Then he brings his tighs, arms and palms into a lotus position as the salty-foam of the sea kisses his toes.

The last thing you want to do is disturb him, especially now that he's about to go on surgery, but your subconscious has a different plan, and she's made sure to glue your eyes at the muscles of his back, shifting each time he breathes in and out. He utters two words in a language you can't understand and ends his meditation by getting on his feet. Bodevan's palms are pressed together, thumbs close to his chest, and fingers pointing upwards when he slightly bows at the ocean, "Namaste."

He hesitates at your figure waiting for him, and for the tenth time today, he avoids your gaze, this time by looking down at his footprints on the wet sand, the ones that lead straight to you. Bodevan grabs his stethoscope and places it over the left side of his chest. He still neglects your stare, blue eyes dancing from one side to another, as his lips count his heartbeats. Satisfied by the cadence, he nods to himself.

Finally, Bodevan approaches you, "I need to scrub in. Moharerwa has signs of Fetal Distress and Placental Abruption." The sound of his voice is careful, laced with concern, but you're unsure if he's worried about you peace of mind, or his upcoming surgery. "Could you take over the clinic for me? I've rounds to make and six patients waiting to be examined. Peraa will help you out. She's kind of -the n-nurse here."

Kind of?

What he means with kind of?

Each word coming out of Bodavan's pretty lips increase your questions about the workflow in this clinic. He's got a kind-of-a-nurse, and he will scrub in with only his brother to assist him. No anesthesiologists, no scrub tech, no circulating tech, no nurses —because apparently, he's got any, just one that kind of is.

Bo notices your worrisome instantly. "Let me check your heart rate," he untangles the stethoscope from around his neck and places it over the skin of your chest. He explains his modus-operandi, the charts you will take over, and how Peraa can be of help.

Afterwards —and you don't know if he's doing for you or for himself— he goes over the surgery procedure. You swallow, trying to even your heart rate because the number of contractions per minute has increased considerably. Maybe it is rushing out because Bodevan is shirtless, acting all doctor like, and he seems like a flipping genius. He's an expert on anaesthesia, he's memorised the surgery, and diagnosed Moharerwa in a heartbeat. Most importantly, he comprehends the importance of engaging with a fresh mind and spirit, which lots of doctors doesn't.

Bodevan bites his lower lip, considering for a while, and that's when you know you're doomed.

"It's… faster than average…" slowly, Bo averts his eyes to find yours, lips stretching into a crooked smirk. You, on the other hand, flush a beet red. Saving you from your embarrassment is the fact that he seems as nervous as you (Thank the heavens!). He moves closer, ear tips removed, and his index and middle finger rest over your neck, at the side of your windpipe.

For the first time since you met him, he is gazing down directly at you. There's not a shy look-away, or discomfort present on his body language, quite the contrary. He's grabbed your shaky hands and entwine them with his. But you're no fool, you distinguish what the shape of his mouth is silently counting. You know he's trying to ease his heart rate as well. Bodevan rests his forehead against yours, "Close your eyes, please. A little while."

"Okay," you murmur shyly, casting your eyes downward to the sight of your intertwined palms before allowing your lids to flutter shut.

"Even your pulse, cool down your breathing," he murmurs, but nonetheless shrugs nonchalantly. His hands have freed yours only to travel upside to reach your shoulders, where they hold reassuringly. "There's no pressure, we do what we can, we try, we try hard, but we are not overpowered by the pressure."

Of course, you know that, and you're thankful for his kind words. Moreover, you are grateful because he thinks that's the cause of your uneven heart rate when, in reality, he is the one rushing it. He makes you nervous. Really flipping nervous.

When you open up your eyes to meet his, he's staring intently at you, with the same wildness you've grown accustomed in the few hours you've met him. His eyes are blue like the ocean, blue like a sunless sky. You met a sky without a sun, and a man without floor — a doctor who's clinic is a teepee, who meditates before surgery, who seems to be every medical specialist. And know, although is weird and you don't know what the hell is wrong with you, something in your inside squirms and yells today you found a pair of eyes you cannot live without.

Bodavan intrigues you, out of extent. You've crossed the globe, travelled from New York to Namibia, have a fianceé, and yet, you've never encounter eyes like his.

"How are you feeling?" he asks.

"Your eyes look like the morning sky," you mumble, every inch a fool. He smiles.

"And yours look like chocolate."

A pinch of guilt turns your throat into knots. The last thing you want is to "feel you belong" in the reflection of Bodevan's eyes. You don't belong in África, miles away from everything you're close of. You belong with your family, your friends, people you know how they're really like, not someone you've just met. You belong with Ethan. You still had no idea what you were doing here, other than hiding out very temporarily while Ethan took care of his… divorce. After that, you were going to take a plane back home.

Right?

#writing bode van is so HARD #ashore #ashore:one #bodevan cash #George mackay #George mackay x reader #captain fantastic #1917

78 notes · View notes

brycelahelalover · 4 years ago

Text

GOLDEN AGE

Pairing: Bryce × f!MC( Tesse Sterling )

Author's note: Sooo! Hi... My name is Chahnaz and this my first fanfic... actually it's my first post ever so i don't know how it's going to come out . So for anyone out there who will actually read this thing .. THANK YOU!! I hope you like it .

It's been 30 years. 30 years since Bryce and Tesse gave their vows to love and cherish each other for the rest of their lives .30 years since Tesse called Bryce her husband for the first time. 30 years since Bryce called Tesse his wife for the first time (and by the way he really loved it.. in fact he loved it so much that he called her only that for the first few months. It's like he forgot her name or something). 30 years in which they had two beautiful children. Alexander (Alex) and Alexis. And no they're not twins. Bryce thought that he was funny by giving the girl that name after Tesse got to name the first born and as much as she wanted to argue with him about giving the child that name for the wrong reasons, she didn't since she actually liked it and because she promised him she would let him name their second baby if they ever had one.

30 years in which they encountered both happiness and loss. Like happiness of celebrating weddings. of Danny to Sienna. Of Elijah to Phoebe. And of Jackie to Mike. Yes.. Jackie got married. Make no fault it wasn't easy for the poor lad to convince her.. in fact it took him months of proposing for her to say yes . Happiness of seeing Keiki go through college, getting her dream job and meeting the love of her life. But they also went through big losses. Like the loss of a patient or a loved one. It wasn't easy but they made it through. Together.

In these 30 years, Bryce and Tesse made it through major big stones in their careers. In fact Bryce now is the head of neurosurgery. And Tesse filled Ethan's place as the head of the diagnostics team after his retirement much to June's frustration. They were known as the power couple at the hospital. Granted, it took both of them a lot of hard work to get where they are but it was worth it.

IT WAS UNBELIEVABLE. ALL OF IT.

Tesse was sitting at the desk in the diagnostics office going through all the details that were presented to her for their lastest patient when her thoughts wondered to her spouse. She knows that she should focus. Christopher, the patient, still hasn't made it from Seattle. He was a wealthy 78 years old who seeked them as his last resort after his last 11 doctors came up empty handed for a reason to his symptoms. Yes, they started treating rich patients too since the whole ordeal 30 years ago because both rich and poor people have the right to the best treatment, adding to the fact that the hospital gains a good penny from the wealthy ones. But still as much as she tries to focus on the words in front of her, she can't. And she doesn't blame that on her aging brain, that as unfocused as it gets it's still as sharp as it was back in her twenties. But she blames it on her husband's behavior. Bryce has been acting quite weirdly as of late. She speculates that it's because of their marriage's 30th anniversary. But he has prepared surprises for her like that before but never acted like this. He spent a lot of time out which is surprising considering he never goes out without her.. or he prefers not to. Adding to the fact that he has been avoiding her and being really quit most of the time, which obviously isn't like Bryce since he's a talking machine that doesn't stop unless he's sleeping. So what could possibly caused this change in behavior. Well only one way to find out, she's going to talk to him later at home. She'll prepare a nice meal to celebrate their b-day while he's in the hospital since apparently he has a surgery that's bound to end a little bit late. And over dinner She'll attack, well not quite laterally cause she's not crazy but she will rain down on him with questions. Now that she forged a plan she feels a little less unfocused and goes back to work.

After a long day of work, Tesse is on her way out of the hospital when she decides to check out the surgery board to see exactly when Bryce's surgery end... or so she tells herself. And lo and behold, there's no surgery preformed at this hour by him. Well that ads to the list of suspicions. Why did he lie to her??. Tesse goes to check his office to see if he's still in. He's not. After that she goes to see if Danny by any chance saw him. He informs her that Bryce has left a couple of hours ago. So he's probably at home. On her way to her car, she gets her phone out to call him but he didn't answer " of course " said Tesse and not because he's used to not answering his phone in fact he's used to nag at her every time she didn't answer his calls . But because the man went to great lengths to hid whatever he's doing. Now remember how I said she wasn't going to attack him because she's not crazy... FORGOT THAT. She totally will.

After the whole drive thinking what he could possibly be doing she makes it home. And at her first step inside the door, she calls his name "BRYCE" you could totally hear the anger in her voice but she was met with silence, that is intel she hears one of the doors opening. Turning around she sees her son who was visiting after his law school finals to spend some time with his parents." Mom?" said Alex " .. you okay?" she could see the confusion writing on his face because of her near scream.

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm fine." replied Tesse.

"Then why are screaming dad's name?"

"Well, I don't know where he is. He's not answering his phone and he lied to me about having a late surgery. And Now he's not even home. So.."

"Do you want me to try calling him?"

"Sure. Though, I doubt he's going to answer."

And sure enough, Bryce still didn't answer his phone.

"Okay... So, isn't today supposed to be your marriage anniversary?"

"Yeah" Tesse answered dejectedely. She really didn't expect to spend it this way.

"So why don't we go to a restaurant? Have a nice dinner? Just you and me? "

"I don't know..."

"Please, mom? I miss spending time with you."

Not wanting to lower her son's spirits, she agreed and went to change her clothes. She wore a beautiful little black dress that fit her form perfectly. Sure, she was sad and angry at Bryce for ditching her but she didn't have to look that way. Not when her son went out of his way to lift her spirits. She really did raise a gentleman.

By the time she was done, she found Alex waiting for her at the living room dressed in a dress shirt and pants. He took her hand than kissed her knuckles" Happy anniversary, Mom" than placed her palm at the crook of his own. And they made their way down to his car.

The direction Alex was driving in, was familiar to Tesse but not to any restaurant she knew. Only when he parked in the drive way to the huge mansion had she realized where he took her. It was her parents mansion. She haven't been in this place since her mother's funeral over 5 years ago. She has been thinking lately of renovating it but it was a project that would take a huge amount of time. Time she didn't have. But still that doesn't answer the question as to why would her son bring her here. The place is supposed to be deserted.

"Alex? Why are we here?" She asked.

But Alex didn't answer her question, instead he lead her to the front door, taking out a key when they made it there and opened the door. Where he got that key she will never know, but she didn't have time to wonder about that a lot cause as they made their way inside, the light suddenly turned on and in front of her she saw all of her friends, Alexis, her brother Connor and in the middle, sporting a huge grin in his face, stood the one and only Bryce Lahela.

" Happy anniversary, Tesse " said everyone.

Through her overwhelm and joy, she could see the place has been cleaned and tidied. It was like no time has passed. She looked into Bryce's eyes knowing that was probably all his doing. He smiled, making his way toward her. Taking her hands, he said:

" Happy anniversary, Love. I hope you're not too mad at me "

And in that moment she knew why she could never be mad at Bryce Lahela.

The end

Hi again! It's me.. And you probably knew that. Again, I want to say thank you to the people who took time out of their day to read this. I know there wasn't much to it but I didn't want to make it longer than it was. Plus, it took me more than 3 hours. So there... I hope you enjoyed it and thank you. Again.

#Bryce Lahela #Bryce Lahela fanfiction #Open heart Bryce #Bryce ×f!MC #Choicesstoriesyouplay #PicelberryChoices #ChoicesOpenHeart #Open heart fanfiction #Open heart

12 notes · View notes

kickingitwithkirk · 4 years ago

Text

Beyond Seduction

Summary: Isobella Tennant wants her independence but society dictates she must conform to their ways. Sam Winchester is the most sought after artist in London and one of its most notorious rakes. He also has a secret he’s kept hidden. They come together with their own agendas and find something more than either expected.

Pairing: Artist!Sam Winchester x Isobella Tennant

Word Count: 3137

Warnings: Cursing, appearance shaming, low self esteem, dominating mother, attempted abduction and assault

A/N: for #OC Apprecation Day 2020 #OC’s are People Too

A/N II: Few months ago I came across a stash of old romance novels I’ve had for umpteen years when I had this idea for a series with Sam Winchester. I had been playing with for a while, getting nowhere, and one evening I was watching Thomas Kinkade’s Christmas Cottage with Jared Padalecki and viola Artist!Sam. Not an original title but I liked the sound of it.

Part II Masterlist

*no beta, all mistakes are mine

London 1875

December 21

“Your daughter will marry my son by lent.” Arthur Ketch forcefully stated as he stood in front of the drawing room window.

“Of course Isobella will marry Ernest, but it’s impossible to do it that soon,” Lavinia Tennant, the Duchess of Monmouth huffed out, running her hand down the over skirt of her terre D'Egypte dress trying to hide nervousness running through her, “but she is the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth, it will take at least a year to plan once the bannes have been read.”

“I have given you too much leeway already Lavi and will not have my son wait any longer,” Ketch said calmly, calling her the beloved nickname her husband gave her on their wedding night. Walking over and reaching out to stroke her cheek, watching with satisfaction as she trembled when he grabbed her arm instead, “or I will go to your husband about us.”

It wasn’t the first time he had inferred he would do it but there was something more in his tone this time.

Ketch’s roughness had been exciting, eliciting intense pleasures she had never felt and had come to crave. He was a far cry from her husband, who possessed a loving countenance and even temperament.

She couldn’t initially understand why Ketch hadn’t been accepted by their society. He was intelligent, charming and a Baron after all, even if the title had been bought by his father, who had been in the coal trade.

It was when she tried to end their affair his true intentions surfaced. Ketch had pursued her for the political advancement of his only son Ernest, who worked for Lavinia’s husband in Parliament.

Ketch planned to make his son Prime Minister of England and the Duke of Monmouth’s connections were his ticket. Blackmailing the duchess into forcing her only daughter Isobella to marry Ernest would solidify his position in society.

“I’ve instructed Ernest to propose again at your party in two weeks and she better not refuse him this time, you’ll make sure of that I have no doubt.” Ketch’s menacing tone said it all, he would follow through on his threat this time.

New Years Eve

“I hear he is indeed very talented,” Alexandra Pembrook informs her companion as they strolled into the library, stopping in front of the newly unveiled portrait of David Tennant, the Duke of Monmouth, “and not just as a painter according to Lady Vance.”

Isobella Tennant looked at her friend raising an eyebrow, “Since when do you listen to the idol gossip of Beatrice Vance? I thought you two weren’t speaking.”

“That juicy tidbit came by way of her ladies maid. Apparently, she overheard Beatrice telling Lady Lucas how her husband came home unexpectedly and almost caught them In flagrante delicto.”

“This is why I’m happy that I got Katie, she would never gossip about any goings on in this household.” Isobella firmly stated.

Katie had been her mother’s governess before becoming hers and then ladies maid after she was presented in society. Katie moved slower with age and hard of hearing so if anything scandalous was said in her presence, she’d never hear it anyways.

“I also heard he spent three months pursuing Lady De Burgh,” Isobella squinted slightly, trying to place the woman, “you know, Queen Victoria’s newest lady-in-waiting. Palace gossip is that he likes to savor his quarry like delicate morsels, bit by bit.” She licked her lips in emphasis, “Too bad he didn’t see you when he was here, I’d bet my new phaeton he would’ve been more than up for the challenge of obtaining you.”

“Lexi!” Isobella gasped, using her best friend since they were both in pram’s nickname, trying to sound scandalized at the implication but grinned at her knowing the notorious Sam Winchester, who she only saw briefly once while her father was sitting for him, wouldn’t have noticed her even if he sat on her.

She did not possess the in favor looks like Lexi; golden blond hair, cornflower blue eyes and envious curves that were enhanced by the fashions of the day, that seemed to tempt him judging by his preferred quarry.

Isobella or Izzy, as everyone but her mother called her, had inherited her grandmother Tennant’s shock of long, thick, unruly copper gold hair, as did her four brothers, who at least had the fortune of being able to keep theirs shorn short, and pale skin covered in cinnamon freckles for days. What couldn’t be overlooked by anyone was, like her brothers, she was tall.

So tall in fact, she stood at least half a head and, in some cases, a full head taller than most of the men in their acquaintance. Her only redeeming qualities, according to her mother, was her title of Lady Tennant and the inheritance that came with it.

Despite being the plainest deb to enter society in years when she was eighteen, Isobella had a line of suitors and was greatly admired for her kindness, quick wit, and intelligence, especially in debate, having learned the skill at her father’s knee.

Now her admirers had drastically fallen away. It seemed what was admired in the girl wouldn’t be tolerated in the woman.

Isabella’s options were dwindling as she was no longer a blossoming flower in society, being just a few months away from turning twenty three.

“Lexi, what kind of scandal could I get into, it’s not like I’ve got suitors beating down my door anymore.”

Lexi looked fondly at her best friend. She didn’t understand what had happened to all of Izzy’s admirers either. Her place in society and her illustrious title as the only daughter of the Duke of Monmouth had drawn a lot of the lesser ranking gentleman showing interest but she knew her friend well enough that their status wouldn’t matter to her if they actually loved her.

“You know Ernest is planning on asking again tonight.”

“You know I will decline again.”

“I can’t understand why you keep turning him down Izzy. He is dependable, would give you everything…”

“You know I love Ernest like a brother but there is no way we could make a go of it. He is too placid and I’m…”

“A damn handful, especially when that hard head of yours gets an idea. I didn’t love Pembrook when I agreed to marry him but now…I can’t imagine my life without him.”

“What I want is a man who will love me as is, let me be myself, not expect me to change for the sake of their ego.”

January 10

“Isobella Tennant, tell me that what I heard is not true!” Lavinia yelled as she swept into the breakfast nook.

Izzy and her father both looked up at the overwrought duchess. “Heard what mother?”

“That you were seen racing Ambrose Murdoch on the commons in a pair of breeches!”

“He said Boudicia couldn’t be as quick as his hunter being a mare…”

“And you were riding astride like some common…”

“… I wasn’t gonna let him get away with insulting my horse!”

“Horses, horses, horses! That’s all you think about! It’s time you stop messing with those animals and start breeding my next grandchild!”

“Lavinia! Don’t speak to our daughter that way.”

“David, I need to speak to you privately.” The duchess replied through her clenched teeth.

***

“Our daughter has turned down Ernest again, he is her last chance of getting married and it’s time you put your foot down and insist on her accepting him.” The Duke opened his mouth to say something, “No David, no more excuses. I know she is your favorite for some unfathomable reason and you’ve coddled her for far to long. She is not a fresh candidate anymore and with her plain looks and stubbornness finding another man to marry her…”

The Duke sighed as she droned on about Izzy turning out to be such a disappointment, too strong willed and independent for a woman, saddened that his wife had such a low opinion of their only daughter.

Isobella had always marched to her own beat, which was completely out of tune with her mother’s, long ago learning how to appease her vanity when it became apparent Izzy would not be the beauty her mother had been in her day.

Lavinia Emerson had been the most sought after debutante of her day, possessing luxurious blond locks, chocolate brown eyes and acres of creamy skin encasing a figure that, even after bearing five children, still turned heads.

When she accepted his proposal, David Tennant was under no illusion it was for anything other than for his title as the future Duke of Monmouth. But over the years she had come to love him and they had a good marriage, raising four fine son’s, all married with families of their own except Richard, the youngest at nineteen.

And yes, Izzy was his favorite, not because she was the only girl but she reminded him of his mother, she had that same free spirit but hadn’t above changing her ways for the sake of her family, as he was sure Izzy would once she was married.

“We’ve discussed this before and it’s time to tell her.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right, if she didn’t accept Ernest, who was an upstanding gentleman despite who his father was; Isobella would end up either alone, being exiled to the edge of good society and tainting her brother’s families or forced to marry anyone who would be willing to take her at her age.

Two nights later

Izzy stared out the large window still unable to comprehend the ultimatum her parents had given her.

Marry Ernest or loose Katie, her horses, and her freedom.

Her father knew what it would do to her under this virtual house arrest, to be at her mother’s by your leave and constant verbal assaults.

It would’ve been kinder to send her to a nunnery.

She thought about her visit to Lexi earlier that day.

“What choice do you have Izzy, you have to marry Ernest, you’d lose your sanity if your mother takes over complete control of your life.”

“If I’m gonna consider giving up my life, there’s one last thing I want to do and you’re going with me.”

Lexi sat up, “One last prank?”

Changing into the god awful orange servants dress she had wriggled from Lexi, Izzy ran down the servants staircase and out their entrance at the back of the house and hailed a hack to take her to Lexi’s and then the music hall.

Izzy walked hurriedly along the quiet streets after the variety shows had let out. She had been unable to find another hack after Lexi left for home so she was forced to start walking. It wasn’t the safest thing for anyone to do at night, especially an unaccompanied woman.

She was almost to the back gate of the grounds when she was grabbed by a man hiding in the shadows.

~~~

Sam Winchester pushed his hands deeper into his coat pockets, not actually cold from the night air turning chilly but disconsolate; it was his periodic companion. This last eighteen months all he had produced was portraits of London’s elite citizens, nothing inspiring him to create anything original, which gave him his fame in the first place.

He had decided to walk for a bit after leaving the Duke of Monmouth’s having repaired the loose corner of the frame around the portrait of said man. He liked the Duke, he possessed a sarcastic humor and was personable.

For a Tory.

Sam was halfway along the high wall surrounding the vast estate when he heard a rough voice hissing in the shadows, “Stop struggling bitch or I’ll give it to you far worse.”

He ran to the end of the wall remembering there was an alleyway leading to a back entrance. Pausing at the opening he was thankful a gas light was nearby illuminating a burly man struggling to hang onto a woman in a hideous orange dress who was putting up one hell of a fight to get away.

“Hey, let her go!” Sam shouted, rushing towards them.

“Fuck off, this ones mine!” He yelled, shoving her to the ground.

Sam swung his large fist smashing into the stranger’s face. He grabbed his bloody nose for a monument and then threw a surprise right hook making contact with Sam’s left temple briefly stunning him and making his getaway.

“Bastard,” Sam spit out, rubbing his head knowing he’d probably have a headache later. He turned to the woman on the ground. She had drawn her legs up, arms wrapped around her legs shaking.

“Are you alright?” He asked as he stepped towards her causing her to start crawling backwards away from him till she bumped into the wall.

Sam squatted down in front of her, holding his hands out in a peaceful gesture and spoke softly to her, “ I’m not gonna hurt you Miss, I want to make sure you’re not hurt, can you nod if you understand me.”

She nodded once, finally looking up from the ground at him.

Sam’s breath caught.

Even under the dim gas light he could make out her unique features and felt that particular skittering under his skin urging him to grab a brush and create like he hadn’t in a very long time.

“I’m Sam Winchester,” standing up he holds out his right hand to her.

“Is..Izzy Morgan.” She replies, taking his outstretched hand. A sensation rippled throughout her in a way she never had with any man, not even with Lord Greyson.

He was the only man Izzy had freely offered herself to and had rejected her in a not so polite manner, publicly gossiping about her attempted seduction of him. It was quickly quashed by her brothers paying him a brief visit.

Sam released her hand, staring intently as he lightly ran his long fingers along her jaw, tracing the contours of; her forehead, curved cheekbones, full lips and nondescript nose, fascinated with the freckles he could just make out in the dim, scattered on her soft skin.

If only it wasn’t so dark to make out the color of her eyes but that hair, absolutely wondrous! He dropped his hand and picked up the tendrils that had come loose running them between his fingers fascinated that it was silky, not wiry, with its kinkiness as he assumed.

She was plain and exquisite at the same time.

“I would love to paint you if you’ll allow me,” she scrunched her forehead confused, “could you ask your employer for time off?”

“You want to paint me, why?”

Sam dropped the hand still playing with her hair and pulled from his coat pocket his card to show he was serious.

“I will pay you generously for your time. If you like I can speak..”

“No! I’m sorry but it’s impossible,” Izzy hurried to the gate and opened it, “thank you for helping me, I am grateful..”

“Then repay it by posing for me.” Sam deepens his whiskey-honeyed voice and watches as she shivered, reacting to it as he hoped.

“I’m sorry but I can’t.”

~~~

Izzy awoke late the next morning exhausted from her previous night’s adventures. She shuddered feeling the bruises acquired during the struggle with her would be rapist.

The door to her bedroom opened and a younger woman she didn’t recognize entered carrying a tray of tea and a light breakfast.

“Good morning my lady, I wasn’t sure what you would like so I bought a few things. Please let me know what you prefer.”

“Who are you and where is Katie?”

“I’m Margaret, your mother engaged me to be your ladies maid. I was informed that Katie decided to leave and be with her sister in Brighton, my lady.”

“Please take the tray, I only have tea in the mornings and pull out my dark brown riding habit. I’ll dress myself today and will be gone till dinner, thank you.” Isobella instructed, heading into her bath and waited for the maid to leave. After she departed Izzy threw on her outfit and hurried to the stable, saddling the first horse there and took off to Lexi’s for a confab about what to do next.

January 19

Her fingers shook nervously as she buttoned up the servants dress she had borrowed from Lexi again. From the trunk she pulled out the big overcoat and long scarf that used to belong to Phillip, her oldest brother. He had given them to her years ago when the family was in Scotland and hers had proven inadequate for riding in the climate there. Opening a small drawer she removed her old, worn riding gloves and slipped them on. She closed the trunk and locked it.

Making her way up the exterior stairs to the street Isobella locked the door leading to the cellar of Lexi’s home and walked to the hired hack waiting for her, instructing the driver to her final destination.

As the carriage travels over the cobblestone streets Isobella goes over the plan one more time to make sure nothing was missed.

Lexi had suggested she should come with her to Wales while her husband sorted out the details from his father’s sudden passing making him the new Lord of Whitmore. That sparked an idea in Izzy’s mind and they set about laying out the details to pull it off.

Isobella knew her parents, or rather her father, wouldn’t object to her traveling with her best friend to give her some time to consider Ernest’s proposal; with a slight hint that she was inclined to accept upon returning.

What none of them knew was she had her own plan in place and it was to be the scandal of the decade.

The hack dropped her off at the end of the quiet street and she walked briskly towards the address on the card.

~~~

Sam came downstairs in no better mood than he had been when his butler Crowley had awoken him late in the afternoon. At least he was dressed. Well, as dressed as he was willing to get in a clean shirt, trousers and no shoes. He had an odd exchange with the new boy Crowley had engaged to help since he was, according to Crowley, seriously understaffed with the size of his household. Sam laughed considering it was only him, Crowley, Mrs. Mills the cook and a maid.

The new boy had scurried off the fetch more coal as the door knocker sounded. Sam opened it and was stunned to see who was standing there.

“Are you still interested in painting me?”

tbc

If your interested in a tag shoot me an ask

tagging: @atc74 @alleiradayne

#OC Appreciation Day 2020 #OC's Are People Too #sam winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester x OFC

12 notes · View notes