#it was the dinner table conversation about Charles wanting to marry her first that really did it

[sparklyslug]

I have finally watched the Netflix Persuasion! Apart from a few fits of screaming at the top of my lungs early on, as I got adjusted, I actually thoroughly enjoyed it.

[ninlilwinds]

Is it too late to start again?

Character: Diluc, Kaeya, Zhongli, Childe

Summary: Constant fighting and arguments eventually take a toll. Is it the end?

Warning: Some language, fighting, kinda suggestive at some parts, i accidentally made Kaeya into a jerk (also has little comfort or resolution)... Diluc's is long... the rest are kind of short... also not proofread

"I'm sick of it, Diluc!" You raised your voice a little causing the maids in the dining area to leave and allow you privacy.

The argument had started due to Diluc informing you he would not be present during your 2-year anniversary. He had been absent for every celebration. His birthday, anniversaries, holidays. He was there for a bit during your birthday but left after handing you his present and giving you a quick kiss.

The house was empty. You had no one to talk to, no one to sleep with in the huge bed, so one to eat dinner with. Tonight, felt almost like a special occasion.

"(Y/n), when you married me, you know what you were getting into. I am a busy man." He stated, cutting into his steak.

You teared up and placed your silverware down, "But you promised you'd try to be with me at least once a week."

"I'm with you every day." He took a bite, still not really putting much enthusiasm to the conversation.

"You know damn well those don't count!" You slammed your hand down on the table and pushed your chair away to get up.

He looked over at you, slightly concerned now, "Well...perhaps we weren't meant to be in a relationship."

You stared at him, tears falling down your cheeks, "Yes. I suppose you are right." you took off your ring and placed it in front of him, "I'll be packing."

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚

It had been 2 weeks since your argument with Diluc. You had moved in with your friend, Amber. Once you explained the situation, she welcomed you with open arms and helped you through your grief.

After weeks of moping, you decided it was about time you stopped being a leech and actually worked. You had gotten ready, and though you looked pretty good. Feeling confident, you stepped out.

Your confidence was soon drained out of you as you saw Diluc walking towards the tavern, a woman talking beside him. You recognized the woman as the acting grand master Jean. He had moved on so fast, it made u questioned if he even loved you in the first place.

At that moment, you couldn't act mature, so you followed him around as he talked with Jean, trying to listen to whatever it was they were saying. Diluc bowed his head to Jean and her continued walking as Diluc opened the door to the tavern. Before you could stop yourself, you entered after him. You'd fault it to not having lunch yet and believing he wasn't on his shift...or play it off acting as if you'd gotten over it.

Diluc cleaned glasses behind the counter, his usually gloved hands bare. You noted he was no longer wearing his ring, and you wanted to be mad, but neither were you, so you couldn't.

Charles stepped up, "(Y/n), what can I get for you today?"

You sat at one of the barstools and avoided Diluc's glace, "The usual."

He nodded and began to prepare your usual snack along with your usual mocktail. It's what you ordered whenever you were waiting for Diluc to finish a shift. Not a strong meal (they didn't really sell those), but just a snack to keep you occupied.

Diluc whipped up your mocktail and placed it in front of you, his eyes wandering to your left hand as you picked up the glass. Neither of you spoke at first, and you didn't intend to break the silence.

"(Y/n)..." you hummed, letting him know you were listening, but not willing to meet eyes, "Can you please step outside with me?"

You bite your lip and nodded, "Sure."

You both went upstairs and stepped into the empty balcony, looking out into the streets.

"I regret how things ended that evening." He said, "Let's have a proper conversation over the problem. Hear me out, after this we can decide whether to officially end this or not." He grabbe dyour hand and placed your ring on your palm.

"Okay...go on." You closed your hand, holding the ring to your heart, your hand shaking a little.

"I was a terrible husband; I will acknowledge that. Despite promising to be with you for better or for worse, I still let you down. I implore you to please give me another chance. Give this another chance. I won't let my work take your place." You noticed Diluc's hands shaking just slightly.

You placed your hands on the railing and looked down to the people walking around, "You already promised that once... How do I know it won't end up like last time?"

He walked up beside you, "I can't prove that to you, unless you give me a second chance." He gripped the railing, his hands becoming pale.

You slipped the ring back on and placed a hand over his, "Alright I agree. But if...it doesn't work out a second time, that's it."

He turned his hand and intertwined your fingers, "Thank you."

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚

You both laid in your shared bed. Neither of you had talked since that moment in the balcony. You had explained to Amber, and she said you could get your stuff tomorrow. You thought tonight would be filled with Diluc trying to make it up to you, but he just laid turned away from you.

"Diluc." You called out.

He shifted over to look at you, "Yes?"

"Why were you with Jean?" You held your breath.

He remained silent for a moment then sat up, "I was asking for advice."

You turned your head to see his sitting figure, "Advice?"

"I wasn't sure how to make it up to you or forgive you. She suggested talking and asking for forgiveness." He spoke.

"And what about the making it up to me."

He avoided your gaze, ears blending in with his hair. He cleared his throat, gathering himself, "She suggested we...have some intimacy." He still didn't meet your eyes.

Your face grew red. Despite being married, besides your wedding kiss and your first kiss and some hugs here and there, you had barely touched. He had always been a gentleman, not wanting to push any of your limits or cross a boundary. You sat up as well, "And?"

"I wasn't sure if you'd prefer to simple be left alone." He looked over at you when he saw you move.

"I've had enough time alone." You scooted closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder.

He wrapped his arm around your waist and tilted your head, kissing you gently. You could feel your face become hot and could feel the heat radiating from Diluc's touch.

Once you parted from your kiss, you both laid down, this time facing each other, not wanting to be away from each other ever again.

Kaeya had begun to ignore you after one of your daily fights. It seems you had hit a nerve, calling him a "immature man child". You felt as if you always had to take care of him. When he was drunk, you had to bring him home. When he was hungry, you had to cook something. When he was sick, you had to take care of him. Now when it came to you being hungry, drunk or sick? He was nowhere around. It had been starting to get on your nerves. Your relationship seemed very one sided.

"This proves my point. You're acting like a child right now, Kaeya." You grit your teeth.

Kaeya continued reading, not even acknowledging you.

"Kaeya." You called out again. When he didn't answer you raised your voice to a shout, "Kaeya for Celestia's sake answer me!"

He looked up finally, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know! Anything!!" You sighed exasperated.

"We should break up." He said.

You stopped all movements and you felt as though your breath had left your body. After months of dealing with his bull crap, he had the nerve to break up with you. Well, if that's what he wanted, "Fine." You said, "Get your stuff and go."

Kaeya seemed a bit shocked. Did he really think he would get you that way? He'd have to think again.

"Very well." He stood up and went into your room. After a while he came back out with a suitcase. He didn't say a word as he left. You were on the couch, holding your tears back. You weren't going to cry in front of him.

But as soon as the door clicked closed, you dropped your head into your hands, sobbing. Months of trying, weeks of work, gone. You had wasted all that time on him. You felt tired and empty. Any good memories you had of him had faded and all that was left was bitterness.

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚

That same evening you heard a knock on your door. You opened it to find a tipsy Kaeya, "(Y/n)..." he smiled and held his arms open. You didn't move.

"Go to someone else Kaeya." You went to close the door, but he blocked you and stepped inside.

He laid down on the couch hugging the pillow, "Let's cuddle~"

"No." You went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water then walked over to him and forced him to drink it.

"Are you mad at me, my love?" He pouted.

"Yes. I am. And we're not each other's love anymore." You spoke. The best [art about him being drunk is he couldn't notice your puffy red eyes or wet sleeve.

He reached up cupping your cheek. You flinched and swatted his hand away, "Are you crying?" he sounded concerned. He was sharper than you thought.

"No. Not get up and leave."

You could see his hazy eyes begin to clear up as more tears resurfaced, having someone point out the tears made it harder to hold them in,

"Go away." You opened the door.

He stood up and hugged you, closing the door behind you, "(Y/n)...Is it me? Are you crying because of me?"

You choked on a sob and tried pulling away, "Let go."

He only held you tighter, "I'm sorry." His voice was shaky now. He didn't sound drunk, but it was so unlike him to ask for genuine forgiveness.

"I didn't realize how much it hurt you...I'm sorry, (Y/n)?" you stopped trying to pull away and hid your face into his shoulder.

He promised himself he would become better, for you.

You shifted in your seat, staring at your lover. Zhongli didn't talk, didn't show affection, and didn't really express hiss love as much as he could, especially after how long you've been together.

"How was your day?" You smiled trying to break the tension. This same reason was why you would argue with him so often, and he was always so gentle and it calmed you down, but didn't resolve the problem.

"It was tiring." He said and continued looking over the menu.

"Why?" You continued to try and break his walls.

"Well, I was working all day, and now we have this date." Was he saying your date was tiring.

You looked down, tears filling your eyes. You were tired too, but you still tried. A meek, "Oh." left your lips.

The night continued in silence. Zhongli never noticed your sniffled or how often you left to go to the restroom. After you were done you excused yourself to your shared room.

Zhongli usually had an evening walk, in which it seemed too private to ask to join him. You assumed he would think about his past and contemplate. After getting ready for bed, you covered yourself, sobbing into the pillow.

You felt alone. abandoned. Unwanted. Zhongli was a handsome man; he could have anyone. He was probably sticking with you out of pity.

Before you knew it, Zhongli had come back and was sitting beside you, pulling the blanket off of you. You tensed. When had he come in?

"My darling, are you crying?" He said in a gentle manner.

You mumbled, "No. I'm fine. Welcome back."

He pulled the blanket back and saw your teary face, "What's wrong?"

If you did decide to tell him, it could lead to another fight. One you didn't feel like having, "I guess I just feel sick."

Zhongli was as perceptive as ever, and sighed standing up, "This is about us, isn't it?"

You looked away and nodded.

"I have already told you of my true identity, right?" He held his hands behind his back.

Nodding again, you fumbled with the blankets, feeling uncomfortable. It was a very long and intense conversation when Zhongli revealed he was Rex Lapis. The topic always made you a bit uncomfortable.

He kneeled in front of you, "I must apologize, my love. Lately, I have been distancing myself from you more than often. Having a relationship with a mortal is very difficult. But I'm willing to face any challenges for you." he cupped your cheek, "But please have patience."

You nodded and wiped your eyes, "Okay."

He leaned down and kissed you slowly and lovingly, "Thank you."

He had been afraid of getting close to you, you wouldn't last forever, but by being afraid he was losing time he could be spending with you.

The next day, Zhongli asked you to join him on his evening walk.

"Can we not do this tonight?!" Childe yelled, causing you to flinch.

"When will we then? You're never around! This is the first time I've seen you for months! You think you can just walk in and not say hi? How have you been my darling lover?? Nothing just go to your room?"

"I have been working, (y/n). For you and your spendings!" He was getting agitated, "Be grateful!"

"I'd be grateful if you were here for longer! Am I even dating you??" You grabbed your head feeling dizzy from the rage filling you.

"Look, if you can't handle being alone, then date someone else." Childe huffed, shoving past you and into your shared room.

You blinked, "Excuse me?" you looked back but flinched when the door slammed shut, leaving you alone, again.

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚

You had left to buy groceries. There wasn't enough to cook a proper meal for your darling, who was still sleeping. You wanted to cook him is favorite as a sort of apology. You admit, yelling at him the minute he stepped inside your shared home wasn't fair.

Childe didn't know you went to go get groceries, so when he stepped outside to an empty house with your wallet and keys gone, he assumed the worst. Last night was a tough night for him. He had come back from months of fighting, and he felt dirty. He wanted to change before he saw you, but you had thought he was ignoring you or something.

That led to a fight, one that caused Childe to twist and turn in bed, not being able to fall asleep. And now the worst had happened. had you left him? His impulsive comment about breaking up that he said last night echoed in his mind. He grabbed his coat and ran out, if anyone could find you, it was him.

But before he could rush out to find you, he crashed into you as you climbed up the stairs of your house. The impact caused you to fall backwards, the groceries slipping from your hands. Childe's quick reflexes grabbed you by the waist and held you up. He couldn't save the groceries unfortunately.

"(Y/n)!" He pulled you close hugging you tightly, "I love you. Please don't leave me, I'll take more vacations. Please..."

you were the only one he could be real around, the only one that brought light into his dull eyes. He loved and depended on you and only you. He couldn't let you go that easily.

Your eyes widened and you wrapped your arms around his neck, "It's ok, I'm right here. I'm not leaving."

He picked you up, despite your protests about the groceries, and placed you on the bed. He leaned down kissing your lips as his hands trailed down your arms and rested on your waist, "I get a month off."

You looked at him in disbelief, " Really?"

He nodded with a smile, "Yes. I'm all yours for a month."

You hugged him and snuggled into the crook of his neck, feeling at home in his arms. The groceries would have to wait until after your cuddling was over.

[callmewrinkles3]

Disney

August 2019

Even if Dan said so himself, this was the best birthday he could have put together for Emmy. His original plan was Disney first, then Vegas, but Michelle and Adam couldn’t get the time off work so they had to get swapped around. Seeing family for her birthday was a good one though.

He’d woken her up with his head between her legs, delighting in the way that she mewled and begged him to keep going before cumming, pulling him for a blistering kiss when she was done. It set the day of fun, her laptop firmly ignored. She’d been working away at night after he went asleep, she deserved to relax on her holiday too.

Isaac had been attached to her the whole time, the pair in matching Mickey ears as Em pointed out all the different characters and rides. She brought him on the Dumbo elephant one and they waved down to the assembled crowd looking at them.

“She’s good with kids.” It was his dad who said it first, watching as she sang the “It’s A Small World” song to Isaac waiting in the queue to get on the ride. He was bouncing on her hip, chattering at her as Em took it all in and treated him like a small adult rather than a child. “Have you talked ab-“

“My life doesn’t exactly make it a good idea, Dad.” He needed to shut that conversation down in its tracks. Blake had half joked that they better not come home married. He’d been all set to propose to Em in Vegas, find a chapel and get married. Until they ran into Charles and he knew he couldn’t do that to Em. Not the media bullshit and the fans and the chaos.

“Just think. Cause it’s clear how much you love each other.” Another thing he hadn’t had the guts to admit to her yet.

But she was radiant, wandering around the park either carrying Isaac or holding his hand. Dan was at her side most of the time with his hand at her lower back. They stood there as everyone else went on the teacups and she leaned into him.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For a really, really good birthday. I’m lucky.”

It wasn’t over. They had a birthday lunch with everyone in the River Belle Terrace, joking and laughing as they ate while they watched the riverboat drift past. After that it was Galaxy’s Edge, Dan taking photos of Em before they went on the rides. He watched her look longingly at a droid and a lightsaber as they passed before convincing her to go back in. She built her droid as Dan watched, laughing as she picked her parts. The lightsaber shop was harder for him to convince her to go into, but once she was in he paid for her to make one. Em’s face when the Kyber crystal lit purple made it entirely worth it.

Isaac waved her off into each store but grabbed back onto her quickly, holding on tightly as he got tired. Michelle and Adam tried to put him in his stroller but he refused, Em bouncing him lightly and holding on. Dan could see how tired she was but she held on no matter what.

Finally it was time for dinner, going to one of the restaurants. This was what he was waiting for, the dinner and show and fireworks. They were crowded around the table as Isaac babbled about what he’d done and everyone else chatted. Em’s strawberry cheesecake came out with a candle on the top, Dan smiling at her blush and the way her nose wrinkled as she grinned and Happy Birthday was sung around the table.

“Mr Ricciardo, the Fantasmic show is about to begin.” One of the Disney cast members came over to direct them, Dan leaving a tip on the table and giving a tip to the cast member as she showed them to their private viewing area.

“Dan what-“

“It’s your birthday. Happy birthday, Emmy.” He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to lean in and kiss her and let the world know that for over a year she’d owned his heart. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t make her have to deal with even more media and crap going on, he knew the way people spoke about her as friends. As his girlfriend? Not unless he could protect her.

The show began, songs and characters on the stage as they watched. Isaac climbed onto Em, Adam trying to get his son back but Em waved him away.

“Love you Auntie Emmy.” He could barely hear Isaac but felt Em stiffen as he curled against her half asleep.

“Love you too, Baby. Love you too.” Dan watched as she tried not to cry, cuddling him tightly. Dan put his arm around her and scooched his chair across to hold her a little tighter.

She hadn’t told him much about her family. He knew Michael had been there a couple of weeks before and had nothing nice to say about them. But he wanted to make sure she knew how wanted she was.

They watched the fireworks after, Isaac carefully back in his stroller. It was the first time Dan held her hand around people and he took a joy in it. She was staring at the sky with pure joy on her face as it lit up with the reflection. She was beautiful.

They got through the parks and went through the private entrance back to the hotel, everyone saying goodnight. Dan said he was taking Em for a birthday drink before they went up to their respective rooms. Everyone hugged them goodbye before leaving Dans and Em to sit in the hotel bar, a glass of wine in front of each of them.

“You didn’t have to do that, Dan. You didn’t.”

“Did you enjoy your day?” She lit up again, a wide smile on her face.

“It was amazing. Every minute of it. I’ve never been to Disney before.”

“We should try go to Paris some time. That could be fun, head out there?”

“Yeah.” She drained her glass and stood, pulling her purse out before he stopped her.

“Stop Emmy, I’ve got this. Come back to my room?”

“I’ve got-“

“It’s your birthday, you can take the night off. Cmon. There’s still a couple of hours of your birthday, let me treat you properly.”

“If you insist.”

He took her hand and brought her upstairs, pulling Em into a kiss the second they reached his room. His girl had a good birthday, he wanted to make sure the entire day was perfect for her.

[ilyrafe]

𝒓𝒆𝒅𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒚 ✧ 𝒄𝒉 𝑽

pairing: charles brandon x duchess!reader

warnings: angst, a brief panic attack, forced kiss.

word count: 3,2k

taglist: @runawayolives​​ @kmuir1​​ @marytudorbrandon​​ @lharrietg​​ @shittingdicknipple​​ @alexa-fangirl-forever​​ @mis-lil-red​ @amberangel112​​ @ohmygoodie @itmejado​​ @radaofrivia​​ @scarlets-widow​​ @ragamuffin285​​​ @thereisa8ella​​​ @​​titty-teetee @dropletsofkaisoo​

a/n: shit goes down from now on just saying..........

redamancy masterlist | main masterlist

his guilt and conscience do not allow him to fall asleep and rest in his bed. if he wants to be civil and reciprocally, he needs to recognize when he is in the wrong and apologize. she didn’t do anything wrong, he shouldn’t have set such high expectations.

he puts on his robe and goes to the duchess’s chambers. strangely, he thinks it is a good thing that her room is far from his, just so he has time to think of the right words. it’s not the first time he’s been intimidated in her presence, and stuttering in front of her seems pathetic.

he takes a deep breath and knocks three times on the door. to his surprise, beatrice answers the door. 

“your grace.” she bows to the duke.

as he steps into her room, he smells roses and cinnamon, a different combination of scents, but just as pleasant. he can’t help but look into the duchess’s main environment, which is lit by candles in certain places. there are books everywhere and flowers from the garden that he recognizes. her dressing table has few items, just a small jewelry box, a brush, and a few hairpins, but her desk has lots of papers and a small leather-bound notebook that looks like a diary. being the curious creature he is, he’s already starting to wonder if she writes about him.

“charles?” y/n’s voice calls out to him, and she looks a little confused as to why he’s in her room in his nightwear.

she runs to put on her robe, even though charles saw her more exposed than usual. sensing her presence is no longer needed, beatrice excuses herself and leaves the duke and the duchess alone. charles mentally thanks the young woman as she leaves, because privacy is what he wants the most right now.

“i owe you an apology.” he starts. “i admit i should not have been rude to you at dinner, i hope you will forgive me. it will not happen again.”

once again, she can hear the sincerity in his voice. perhaps the image she has of charles is twisted. what if she is wrong about him?

“i owe you an apology, too.” she admits.

“what for?”

“for the way i have been treating, or mistreating you these past months.”

seeing her in a position of vulnerability is nearly shocking. it’s not even that much exposure from her, but charles sees her as a tough person, and hearing her words comforts him, because just like her, he feels sincerity and honesty in her apology. more than anyone else, he knows how hard it is to admit when you are in the wrong.

“oh, do not worry. you have your reasons and i understand.”

“even so, i shouldn’t have been such a monster to you.”

“it is all in the past.”

a small smile appears on her lips. apparently a white flag indicating a truce had been raised. charles says goodbye and goes back to his room, no longer feeling the pain in his back as he is always tense in the presence of y/n. his shoulders are relaxed as is his posture. with a smile on his face, charles goes back to his bed and for the first time since he got married, he sleeps peacefully.

(...)

a few weeks have passed, the eighteenth birthday of king henry’s new wife, katherine howard, approaches. the friendship between y/n and charles just blossoms, which makes the duke happier. conversations over dinner gradually linger, and making her laugh is almost a duty he gives to himself. it’s the most pleasant sound, and he finds it adorable when she covers her mouth when she laughs a little louder than usual.

they have a quite a lot in common. contrary to what she assumed, charles is far from arrogant. in fact, he doesn’t seem so fond of so many formalities. the way he talks about his parents, who are sadly deceased, is a little disheartening. he seems to need approval from others constantly, something she can relate to.

little by little, y/n manages to humanize in her own head the man behind the broad, strong body that charles has. there’s a sweetness in his blue eyes that she has been allowing herself to notice.

it’s difficult to get more information about her, though. y/n is very reserved and still prefers to spend most of her time by herself, which bothers him a little, and he still notices a little sadness in her eyes. he’s almost positive that something still disturbs her and he tries to make her feel comfortable enough to open up, but all of his attempts have failed.

give time to time, he keeps reminding himself.

(...)

the birthday party is grand, something the court and guests await. king henry always goes out of his way to show off to his subjects. the royal castle is a dream of gold, the most expensive flowers are everywhere, only the best food is being served, and the guests wear their most sophisticated attire. the king is ecstatic over his sixth wife, he will never spare any effort to make her happy.

the carriages keep arriving and more and more people enter the king’s castle. in one of them is charles and y/n, and both are as well dressed as the others in the royal court. y/n’s dress is stunning, and it’s completely different from the ones she’s ever worn in public. its rich emerald tone compliments her entirely, and the pearls in her hair soften her youthful appearance. charles is as well groomed as she is, but he opted for a monochromatic black attire, which makes him look even more imposing. regardless, they look complementary to each other.

“do not be surprised if male attention is focused on you.” he comments with a subtle laugh.

her puzzled expression cheers him a bit. he knows what is said about him and his wife, both the nasty comments and the most lustful ones.

he helps her down from the carriage and, with arms entwined, they enter the royal castle. as they are announced, all eyes turn to the couple. the king, upon seeing his longtime friend, goes to meet him with a proud smile on his face. the duchess’s distaste for the king is clear, but she knows how to hide it, for the sake of etiquette. after greeting each other briefly, charles and y/n follow to the main table, where the king is reunited with his wife.

“oh, you must be y/n!” the queen cheerfully says, properly ditching said etiquette. “your dress is marvelous!”

“thank you, your majesty.” y/n smiles.

the bubbly nature of the queen is pleasant; even charles thinks she’s quite funny with her antics. the age gap between her and the king is quite alarming, but she seems to be what holds him down a bit.

the music is loud, and the guests are all over the ballroom, either dancing or talking. for some reason, y/n feels unquiet. maybe it’s the heat, the loud noises or the constant glares she gets from other women. they don’t even try to hide when they’re obviously gossiping about her. she’s not entirely aware of her ‘fame’, but she knows she’s the subject of many conversations.

enthusiastically, the king taps his cup with silverware, drawing the attention of all the guests.

“first of all, i want to thank you all for coming to my beloved wife’s birthday, your majesty, the queen.” he says and hears applause for the sweet queen katherine. “happy birthday, my love. may the next few years of your life be as beautiful as you are.”

katherine blows her husband a kiss and he raises his wineglass to the guests. everyone raises their glasses and takes a sip, celebrating the queen’s life.

“i wonder how long this marriage is going to last…” charles comments under his breath, only y/n is able to hear, and she chuckles in response.

“i give it a year.”

they exchange a look, and when the music starts to play again, a few of the guests begin to dance in pairs.

“would you grant me a dance?” he asks.

as she looks around, she sees that her attention is focused on the king and queen. a dance won’t do any harm, she thinks.

“of course.”

he takes her to the center of the room by her hand, and soon they stand opposite each other to dance. if his memory serves him, he’s never been this close to her, and he takes this moment as an opportunity to really get a closer look, maybe he notices a new detail on her beautiful face? if he could, he’d spend hours memorizing every detail of y/n, because she’s so stunning, and with every observation she makes—of any subject—she becomes the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

y/n, however, is fighting all of her instincts. she doesn’t quite allow herself to look at charles. even though they are in a peaceful territory, he’s still the man who has been with her friends, he’s still the man who accepted her father’s offer to marry her in exchange for a mere position at the court. she’s certainly noticed his looks, and can’t deny that he isn’t as awful as she made herself to believe, and now she knows he’s an excellent dancer.

he guides her so masterfully and firmly, she feels safe, even though she isn’t very fond of dancing. regardless, he makes it feel pleasant. his eyes doesn’t leave hers for a second, but she looks around every now and then.

that’s when she sees a very familiar face, amidst all these people. one she would recognize anywhere, but the spin of the dance makes her lose sight of the person.

“is everything alright?” charles asks.

“yes…” she replies, toneless.

the dance continues, faster now. small heels mark the final part of the dance, and the noise of several shoes on the floor makes her uncomfortable. who is that person? the rhythm of the music picks up, people are talking loudly, the dance gets more energetic, and all she wants is to recognize that face. it can’t be.

she keeps searching for that face, but there are so many people in that ballroom, it’s pointless. the dance is making her feel a bit nauseous, she even contemplates leaving charles on the dance floor by himself, but when he bows down to her, she realizes the dance is finally over.

finally!

when they return to the main table, henry calls them to introduce them to the duchess of jämtland. even from afar, y/n can see how different the duchess is. pale complexion, light, straight and fine hair, bright blue eyes. she can’t help but compare herself to her. beside the duchess is her husband.

james.

the face she had seen. it’s him.

“charles and y/n, i would like to introduce you to my friends from sweden, your grace annika and her husband, james.” king henry says.

with each step she takes, y/n’s body freezes more and more, her heart beats faster and faster, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. james is not at all shocked, more like afraid. only he knows the reason for the terror on y/n’s face at that moment, as much as she tries to hide it, he knows her better than anyone else in that room. she cannot move a single finger to greet the duchess and her husband.

“it’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace.” charles says to annika and kisses the back of her hand.

when he turns his attention to james, y/n feels like fainting. as if her two worlds are about to collide.

“this is my longtime friend, charles, the duke of suffolk and his wife, y/n, his duchess.” henry says.

“it is an honor to meet you, your grace.” james says, repeating the same gesture as charles, but now with the woman he once promised to love forever.

y/n is unable to move throughout the entire greeting process, and the situation only gets worse when she notices the annika’s subtle bump, which she doesn’t seem to hide that she is pregnant, as she takes her belly in with her hands.

“they are here to visit my kingdom and james is possibly going to war with us. sweden is our partner against france.” henry informs charles, completely unaware of the history between james and y/n.

“my apologies,” y/n speaks, trying to regain herself. “i’m not-”

“would your grace grant me a dance?” james interrupts.

he looks at charles with a silent request, and the duke looks at his wife.

“she doesn’t require my permission.” charles explains.

“ah, of course! a dance! charles, take annika to dance, james, you take y/n to dance. let’s all dance!” the king shouts, clearly a little inebriated.

everyone gathers in the center of the room and starts dancing.  y/n’s hands are shaky and a bit sweaty, and james tries to soothe her with his gaze. he tries to apologize, but knows she will never forgive him. after everything that happened between them… it’s almost impossible to believe it.

“i can explain.” he mumbles.

“don’t.” she simply says.

her odd behavior hasn’t gone unnoticed, though. charles has never seen her so pale before, almost as if she’d seen a ghost. he glances at them, and he knows she’s on the verge of tears. he isn’t dumb — it takes charles less than a few minutes to realize that james is the man y/n claimed to love, months ago. the way they’re looking at each other is more than enough proof.

“y/n, please.”

“she is with child.” y/n’s voice trembles with her own affirmation.

james is heartbroken, more than he was when they saw each other for the last time, over a year ago.

“we can still be together.”

his speech outrages her, and she is forced to withdraw. she runs as fast as she can to the large and vast garden of the castle, and hopes that no one will find her, but charles and james have gone after her, and a small commotion is caused in the hall, which is quickly contained. the poor swedish duchess is left confused.

she feels that the walls are getting tighter and tighter, or maybe it’s the dress that is too tight on her body that doesn’t let her breathe.

breathe.

breathe, y/n.

only when she manages to get out of the castle and into the huge garden is it possible to hear the silence and breathe fresh air, no matter how cold it is. it’s behind a big tree that she finally stops running. her chest is tight, beating faster than ever. it’s all so disappointing and confusing, she just wants it to be over.

she thought she had experienced pain before, but now it’s different. a mixture of hatred and disappointment washes over her like a wave, and she reduces herself to tears. the more she thinks about it, more tears roll down her face and her heart feels tighter.

she hears footsteps approaching, and to her surprise, james finds her. he looks just as haunted as she is, and he’s panting from running so fast to find her.

“my love-”

“no!” she protests. “you betrayed me, james! how could you?!”

“y/n, please…”

“how dare you?!” she inquires through her teeth, not even able to hide her anger. “how dare you come to me with a wife? with a pregnant wife?!”

“you must listen to me, y/n.” he says as he grabs her by her shoulders and forcing her to look at his eyes. “i could not get to you if i did not marry someone... important. i did this for you, my love.”

he pulls her against him and kisses her forcefully, but y/n manages to punch him in the chest and break free of his embrace. she pushes him away and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand harshly.

“don’t you dare touch me.” she barks through gritted teeth, her voice is full of rage. “you went to bed with her for me? how fucking stupid do you think i am, james? don’t you know me at all?!”

unbeknownst to them, charles is near, watching the fight, prepared to attack him if need be, but from what he sees, y/n is able to fend for herself. there’s no doubt he is the man she told him about, and charles can’t deny his jealousy, not even to himself. he’s never seen y/n so heartbroken before, and all of his instincts are telling him to intervene.

“i still love you!” james claims desperately.

“i suggest you leave her alone.” charles says with the calmest tone to his voice.

y/n is only able to breathe when she sees the duke, because he brings her a sensation of security. she’s even able to breathe a little better.

“who do you think you are to talk to me with this tone?” james challenges. “i couldn’t care less if you are her husband, your grace,” he says with a mocking tone. “we all know this is an arrangement. she loves me.”

“i am trying to be peaceful for her sake, but if you insist on testing me, i’ll lose my composure and end you.” the duke threatens, and his tone is as cold as winter nights.

both men are now face to face, close to each other, and the possibility of the fight becoming physical makes her desperate, as the last thing she wants is a scandal.

“both of you, stop! now!” she exclaims as she pushes the two tall, strong men apart. she knows james, and he can certainly be scary. he’s a tall, built man with fighting skills, but it seems that charles is his elevated match. “i will not tolerate a scene.”

“he started it!” james barks.

“stop it!” y/n protests. she regains a bit of control over herself and wipes her tears with the back of her hands. “leave,” she pleads. “we have nothing else to talk about.”

“y/n-”

“james, please! i do not want to see you ever again.”

outraged, james does as she says and leaves, but not before pushing charles with his shoulder on his way out.

“did he hurt you?” charles asks as he cups her face in his hands. the scary look is no longer on his face, as he is now concerned. her teary eyes break him completely. she looks so broken and hopeless.

yes. deeply.

“please, i must go home.” she begs and sniffles, never before having felt so small. “please, i am begging you.”

“yes, absolutely.”

charles takes her in his arms and soothes her before they leave. for the first time, they’re in each other’s arms, and both of them feel complete somehow. in this very moment, charles represents the security she needs, and she is the equivalent of what is missing in his life. the comfort she finds in his embrace is something she didn’t even know could be real. not even in james’ arms she felt such care.

did james care for her at all?

the most heartbreaking thing is that she can feel her love for james turning into absolute hatred and it is terrifying.

“i am here for you, y/n.” charles whispers before placing a kiss on the top of her head.

---

feedback is always appreciated! 

[earnestly-endlessly]

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks 

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee 

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

[amysteryspot]

Don’t know how to stop - Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader

Prompts: 40. “I wasn’t lying when I said that I loved you.”; 69. “What do you want me to say?” + "Don't Know How to Stop" by Halestorm

Requested by: @sighonahurricane

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Changretta!Reader

Summary: “Or what, Thomas?” she interrupted him, defiance in her eyes as she glared back at him. “We both know you won’t kill me. You want revenge, want to see me suffer or you would have already killed me that night at the warehouse, in front of my father.”

Warnings: Smut/NSFW/+18, mentions of violence, swearing, there's a very brief implied reference to rape

Word Count: 2510

A/N: Not even going to try and find an excuse as to why this is longer than it should be, all you need to know is that I was in the mood. I absolutely loved to write this, but I'm feeling anxious about what you all are going to think of it. Really hope that you like it. For reference, reader is a Changretta and this is set between season three/four. Feedback is very much appreciated as always.

(Y/N) = Your Name | (Y/N/N) = Your Nickname

English is not my first language and this wasn’t proofread by a beta.

If you want to be tagged in my stories, just send me a message.

She had been the one that faced the Devil. Down on her knees in front of him, begging for her father’s life as he held the knife to her throat.

“One life for another,” she had offered, fingers curling into the fabric of his waistcoat. “You can have me. Do anything you want with me, just spare his life.”

The deal had been made that night, for reasons that Tommy still couldn’t understand, even after all these years. He wasn’t even sure if he had really considered the possibility of killing her, despite the rage clouding his mind at the time.

Vicente walked free, dragged out of the room in tears, at the expense of leaving his daughter behind, a prisoner of war.

Tommy confined her to the guest wing of Arrow House. He didn’t want to see her and be reminded of the reason why he slept in an empty bed now. It was easier to ignore her existence if he didn’t have to see her every day.

His son had other plans though. Somehow, Charlie found a way to escape his nanny and ended up finding (Y/N). Tommy knew something was wrong the moment he stepped into his son’s room to find it empty. It was safe to say that he was seeing red as he climbed down the stairs, calling for Mary and asking about the whereabouts of the nanny and the baby.

The door to her room hit the wall with a loud bang that startled both the women in there and Charlie, who was all curled up in (Y/N)’s arms.

Tommy looked at the nanny, ordering, “Take Charlie back to his room.”

She did as commanded, quickly, even though the boy didn’t seem very pleased with the idea of leaving (Y/N)’s arms. Tommy walked straight up to her, grabbing her tightly by the jaw, and almost lifting her from the ground.

“You don’t get to talk to him. You don’t even look his way or else…”

“Or what, Thomas?” she interrupted him, defiance in her eyes as she glared back at him. “We both know you won’t kill me. You want revenge, want to see me suffer or you would have already killed me that night at the warehouse, in front of my father.”

His hold on her had gone lax but he still kept his hands on her.

(Y/N) continued, “The boy came to me, I’m not going to blame a child for sins that aren’t his.”

Tommy observed her in silence for a minute. The rise and fall from her chest, the way both her hands were circling his wrist, how she didn’t show any sign of fear even though the imbalance in power was evident. He let her go, leaving the room without another world, only to be haunted by the image of her in his dreams.

“Are you going to kill her or fuck her?” Polly’s voice got him out of his trance.

He looked up at her but did not answer, because he didn’t know what to say.

Polly continued, “Because these are the two available options with you. You are either going to kill her or you’re going to fuck her. Considering that you are mourning, I would bet on the second, or you would have killed her already.”

She took a drag from her cigarette, taking her time in exhaling the smoke, before saying, “You men start wars because of your uncontrollable ego, and in the end, is always the women who pay the price of it.”

In the end, both Polly and (Y/N) were right. He didn’t kill her. His aunt’s words have made him realize something better to put a definitive end to this war between them and the Italians: a wedding. What could be worse for Vicente than having to marry his only daughter to a Shelby?

After a year of mourning, Thomas married (Y/N) Changretta, sealing the pact she had made with him for good.

They slept in separate rooms at opposite ends of the corridor. Since she was his wife now, Tommy had to get used to the idea that Charlie would have to be around her, or people would get suspicious. He had never been one to care about what people thought of him, but sometimes it was easier to maintain the appearances than to go against the norm.

If Tommy was worried about having to see her more often now that they shared the same corridor, he was wrong. (Y/N) was like a ghost. He rarely saw her outside of brief encounters whenever he was at home at the time the meals were served, the occasions when he found her in Charles’s nursery, or when she had to accompany at events.

On those occasions, (Y/N) was the image of a perfect, dutiful wife. She was well mannered and educated, making it easy for her to hold conversations with the most different people. Her charm and beauty helped her, and Tommy was surprised at how good she was at making people believe that their marriage wasn’t a sham.

His family and the staff of the house knew better though—all (Y/N) was was spoils of war.

They were surprisingly civil to each other, posing for the public eye as the perfect couple and avoiding each other like the plague at home. When they met at home, occasionally, a polite conversation could end up in a fight. Except for that night when Tommy found Charlie in (Y/N)’s arms for the first time, their arguments never turned physical.

Until one night when Tommy was especially pissed off by something business-related and ended up pressing her up between his body and the wall of her the drawing-room.

(Y/N) had never backed away from a fight, never showed any signs that she was afraid of him. But that night, that night the way she flinched when he touched her and the look of pure horror on her face as she looked at him, made Tommy let go of her immediately.

As he watched her ran away from the room, Tommy realized what must have crossed her mind, and the mere thought of it made his blood boil. The glass of whiskey that was on his desk exploded in a hundred pieces on the wall, before he retired to his room, plagued by the sight of her running away from him.

He tried to be more careful around her after that, always seeking some kind of consent from her before getting too close or touching her. Tommy would never force her to have sex with him, not for revenge, not because she was his wife.

They crossed the line from civil to friendly at some point, maybe after she sassed him because of Lizzie in front of the whole family, making everyone laugh, but he was not sure. What he did know for sure was that he started to see her as more than someone who was there because of a casualty of war somewhere along the way.

It was hard to ignore her after that. It was hard to ignore the beautiful woman navigating the corridors of his house, playing with his son in the garden, handling the staff, helping with the business. It was hard to ignore the woman he tried to avoid for so long, the woman he didn’t want to acknowledge.

He wasn’t sure at what point he had started to consider the idea to fuck her, it just happened. One night, after they arrived from a gala, fighting about something that Tommy didn’t even remember anymore, they fucked against the vanity in her room.

After that first time, it all went downhill. It was like getting high for the first time and then not being able to control the need to take another hit. (Y/N) was warm, soft, willing, and available, and Tommy decided that he wasn’t going to deny himself or his needs searching for other options when he had her right there.

Things escalated quickly and they developed some kind of silent agreement, another deal. During the day, they acted like old acquaintances, respectful, and civil to each other. But after dawn, they would seek each other out, drowning together in a desire that seemed to have no end.

That had been a long time ago, so long that he didn’t remember how it was not to have her around. Long enough for some unrequited feelings to show up.

He did his best to ignore the guy talking to (Y/N). They were hosting a dinner at Arrow House, the man talking to her was some rich bachelor from London that was being a little too friendly to Tommy’s liking. He downed the whiskey in one gulp and noticed Polly watching him, but his attention is quickly drawn back to his wife.

At the end of the night, after all the guests either left for home or to the guest wing and all that is left are the Shelby’s at the parlour, Tommy revels in the feeling of (Y/N) sitting beside him, reclining against the arm he rested behind her shoulders. From the other side of the room, Polly looks at him and smiles, like she knows something that he doesn’t.

It happens the week after the gala. They’re both getting ready for a family meeting. His room became their room, unofficially, because her things were scattered all over the place—her perfume and jewelry on the bedside table, dresses on the wardrobe, lingerie on the drawers, even the sheets smelled like her.

“Tommy,” she exclaimed in a reprehensive tone, as he pressed himself against her back, arms sneaking around her waist and preventing her from running away as his lips trailed down her neck. “What are you doing?”

“Giving some very due attention to my wife,” he answered, casually, walking them both closer to the bed.

“In broad daylight?” (Y/N) gasped, something between surprise and a protest, although she was doing very little to resist his advances.

“Want to see you,” he stated, before turning her around to kiss her.

“Your family is downstairs waiting for you,” she warned against his lips, breath uneven and fingers clutching onto his shirt.

“My family is downstairs waiting for us,” he corrected, nibbling her earlobe and smiling because of the sound she made. “Let them wait. They’re probably too occupied drinking, anyway.”

Any pretense of resistance from her part vanished when Tommy started to unbutton her dress. He was desperate to feel her skin against his, to taste her, and be inside of her. When they were both finally naked and pressed against each other on the bed, it felt like some kind of miracle.

Tommy drank her in, from the blush on her cheeks to the way her toes curled when he touched a sensitive spot on her body. All the scars, the birthmarks, the dips and curves, the softness of her skin, the heady taste of her on his tongue, and how wet she could get for him. He wanted it all, needed all of her.

He was tired to fight against it, tired of pretending that this feeling gnawing on his chest was something else.

“(Y/N/N),” he breaths against her skin, the feeling of her short nails scratching his back driving him crazy. “I love you.”

Her eyes open to stare right into his, something between surprise and uncertainty on her features. Tommy kisses her, gripping her tights a little harder to dive deeper into her.

The whimper of need that comes out of her lips makes him wild. All he can think about is how she feels, how good she feels, how right she feels. Here, underneath him, crying out his name, welcoming him into her body, scratching his back as the both of them get lost in pure pleasure.

All it takes to make her unravel is for him to press the engorged nub at the apex of her thighs. (Y/N) comes undone and brings him down with her, just a few trusts later, her walls milking him from his orgasm, his seed taking place deep inside of her for the first time in a long time because they were too lost in each other to care.

One more time they pretended, dressing in silence and walking down the stairs as nothing more than acquaintances. If his family suspected of something, they didn’t show it.

The meeting went uneventful, as planned. (Y/N) found a way to sneak out of the parlour before him and when Tommy went upstairs to his room—their room—he found it empty.

Sighing, he made his way to the other end of the corridor. He knocked one time, before letting himself in. (Y/N) was sitting in front of the vanity, taking the pins out of her hair. She was already dressed to sleep, the silk nightgown revealing her legs and a bit of the lace underneath. Their gazes met through the mirror as Tommy closes the door behind him.

“I wasn’t lying when I said that I love you.”

(Y/N) takes a deep breath, still not turning around to face him.

“Tom…”

“We’ve been dancing around this for too long, it’s time to face it.”

She sighs, a hand running through her face as she says, “What do you want me to say?”

He is in her in a heartbeat, pulling her up and pressing her against the vanity, just like the first time they had sex. Tommy takes her face in between both of his hands, nose brushing against her as he mumbles against her lips,

“I want to hear you say it.”

“Tom, I can’t. We can’t,” she protests, weekly, eyes closed and hands holding his wrists.

“A little too late for that because I don’t know how to stop this.”

“Your brother blinder my brother, Tommy. Your wife was killed because of that. I’m only here because you wanted my father that and I made a bargain with you. How this is supposed to work. What people will think?”

“Fuck what people think. We are already married, (Y/N). What happened, happened. We can’t change it. But this thing between us, this thing is real. I’ve denied myself that long enough, not going to keep pretending anymore. I love you. I’ve loved you for a long time now and I know, I know that you feel the same, so stop fighting against it and say it.”

Tommy’s lips brush against hers as he repeats himself, half plea, half command, “Say it.”

“I love you,” she whispers, eyes closed tightly as if the words will be less real if she can’t see him.

“Say it again,” he commands, nose bumping into hers while his thumbs caress her cheeks.

“I love you.”

“Again,” the sound is music to his ears and Tommy just can’t get enough of it.

(Y/N) opens her eyes, looks him in the eye, and professes, “I love you, Thomas Shelby.”

He smiles, for what feels like the first time in years, and confesses, “I love you too, Mrs. Shelby.”

.

Taglist: @stressedandbandobessed7771 @internalmess3 @theshelbyclan @giowritess @captivatedbycillianmurphy

[seasonsofeverlark]

Everdeen Scrooge

Author: @norbertsmom​

Prompt: Hunger Games Christmas Carol [submitted by @katnissandpeeta125​]

Rating: T

Summary: Several years after the war that ended President Snow’s tyranny over Panem, Twenty two year old Katniss Everdeen doesn’t want anything to do with the new Christmas holiday instituted by the New Panem Government. Can a ghostly visit make her change her mind?

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @mega-aulover​, my friend and beta, and all around expert on A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, which this fic is based on. This post includes chapters 1 and 2 out of a total of 6. The other chapters will be posted separately.

___________

Chapter 1

Katniss expels a puffy cloud of air then releases her bow string. There’s silence for a moment as the arrow flies.

  “You got it,” Gale exclaims as he stands up from their blind. 

  In the distance, gobbling can be heard as several turkey hens flee, a large gobbler lay still in the snow with an arrow sticking out of its side.

  The snow crunches under their boots as they approach it. Katniss pulls out her arrow as Gale picks up the bird by its feet. “This is going to make a great Christmas dinner, Catnip.” 

  “Nope,” Katniss says, shaking her head. “That bird is going to make several meals for the next few weeks.”

  “But,” Gale tries, as he loops the turkey strap around its feet and neck.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll give you your share. You did help me track it, and now you can carry it.”

  “What about Christmas dinner tomorrow?” Gale asks as he lifts the strap over his shoulder.

  “I’m not wasting all that meat on one meal,” Katniss says as they start walking back to town. “I need to make sure we have food for the rest of the winter. Who knows when I’ll get a chance to hunt again.” 

  “Are you coming to our party tonight? You mom and sister are planning to be there. I heard them planning it with my mom.”

  “Nope. I’ve got to get a decent night sleep so I can come back out hunting in the morning.”

  “Come on, Catnip. The new government has given us tons of opportunities, better pay, more affordable food, better houses even. You don’t need to hunt every day. You really need to spend some time with your friends and family.”

  While it’s true that the new Panem government has provided better lives for all of Panem. After the war was over and President Snow was executed, a new government was created with representatives from each of the districts. Katniss still has a problem trusting that things won’t go back to the way they were before the revolution. 

  She and her family nearly died of starvation after her father died in a mine explosion. Ever since, she’s been very frugal with food and with money. Gale used to be as frugal as she is, but ever since he fell in love with Leevy Johnstone, he’s been different. She’s tired of the same old argument. 

  Her best client, Haymitch Abernathy was dead. Gone these past few months. He was a victor and a war hero, but no one paid him no mind because he kept people at a distance. Just like she tried to do. 

  He paid Katniss extra coin for good game meat on a regular basis. She missed the old drunk codger.  When he died not many people went to his funeral, only Katniss, Peeta Mellark, and the old Capitol Escort, Effie trinket attended. 

   “Let’s just get this turkey in cold storage so we can go into town to trade the rest of our haul,” Katniss gripes, ignoring his plea.

  After the oohs and aahs from her mother and sister over the turkey, and disappointment in their eyes from the news of Katniss’ plans for the turkey, she and Gale head to town to finish their trades. 

  With trading at the now legal hob, and other merchants in town complete, Katniss and Gale head to Mellark’s Bakery for their last stop of the day. Even though Seam folks are now welcome in the front of the bakery, trades are still conducted at the back door.

  Katniss climbs the steps to knock on the door, while Gale stands at the bottom of the steps digging around in his game bag for his trade. She wishes she could have gone to the bakery on her own, but Gale said he needs to get something too. 

  The youngest Mellark, Peeta answers the door. Peeta has been in charge of the bakery for four years now, after his two older brothers married girls who inherited their own family businesses. 

  “Merry Christmas, Katniss,” Peeta greets with a warm smile. “Are you here to trade?”

  Katniss is momentarily blinded by his warm easy smile. It always takes her a second to snap back into the moment. She really enjoys when they spend time after their trades chatting, but first there’s trading to do. She needs to stay focused. 

  “Yes I am here to trade,” she says as she holds up a pair of fat squirrels. 

  “You always get them through the eye,” Peeta says, rubbing the back of his neck.

  “She sure does,” Gale says as he walks up the steps behind her.

  Katniss clenches her jaw and levels Gale a shut up look. She needs a good sale. “I know how much you like squirrels, so I got an extra one for you, because I know tomorrow you’ll be closed. I wanted to make sure you have enough game meat to last you-" 

  "One day,” Peeta says, smiling, his blue eyes sparkling.

  Gale covers a laugh from behind her.

  “A lot can happen in one day,” Katniss defends. “Besides, you could always bring a dish to one of your brothers’ homes. I’m sure they could use the extra game meat. How many nephews do you have now?”

  “Two with one more on the way,” Peeta says brightly.

  “See I’m sure they could use the extra meat.”

  “Okay, hold on; let me get the bread for you and some coin for the extra meat.”

  “Perfect,” Katniss says, nodding.

  When her trade is done Gale steps up with a rabbit from his bag. “A small bag of cookies, please.” 

“Sure thing,” Peeta says, taking the rabbit into the kitchen.

  After Peeta leaves, Katniss gives Gale an incredulous look.

  “They’re a present for Posy,” Gale defends. “She’s really into the spirit of Christmas, especially the presents,” he says with a laugh.

  After Peeta returns with the bag of cookies, Gale tucks them into his game bag.

  Katniss and Gale turn to walk back down the steps, but Peeta speaks up before they get very far, “Hey, Katniss. Could I ask you something?”

  Kaniss looks back to Peeta, but he’s looking at Gale. 

  The two men seem to come to some kind of silent agreement and Gale says, “I’m going to head over to the sweet shop for more presents for Posy. I’ll meet you out front, Catnip.”

  Katniss is a bit stunned by their exchange, but shakes her head and walks back to Peeta. “What did you want to ask me?” she asks, hesitantly.

  Peeta stammers for a minute, “Would you, ah,” he rubs the back of his neck and looks down at his shoes before blurting out, “would you go out on a date with me?” He looks back up; his blue eyes plead for her answer as his cheeks turn red.

  “Oh, I-I don’t date,” Katniss stammers out before running down the steps. She runs down the alley between the shops and almost collides with Gale, who could not have made it to the sweet shop and back already.

   "You know you were cold toward Peeta,” Gale tells her.

  “I was not.”

  “Katniss, listen to me. that Merchant is decent folk and you treat him…”

  “Like what?” Katniss asks, narrowing her eyes.

  “Like that,” Gale points to her face. “You need to stop pushing people away. One day you’re going to find yourself all alone.” He walks away toward the sweet shop, shaking his head.

  Katniss brushes what Gale has to say aside. Just because he forgot what life is like when you don’t have enough food to eat, she’ll never forget. She heads toward home without him.

  “Come on, Katniss,” Prim begs from her seat at the dinner table. Her fingers tangled in the ribbon she’s trying to tie. “I need your help wrapping these gifts for the Hawthornes.” 

  “Sorry Prim,” Katniss replies from her spot on the floor. “I need to finish the fletching for my arrows. It’s supposed to be unseasonably warm tomorrow, so I can’t miss a day of hunting when I don’t know if I’ll get another break this winter.”

  Mrs. Everdeen sets the stew she’s been working to simmer and walks over to help Prim out, deftly tying the ribbon in a well-practiced bow.

  “Thanks mom,” Prim says, before turning back to Katniss.

  “But Katniss, tomorrow’s Christmas. You can’t spend the day hunting; you were out there all day today. What about presents?”

  Katniss sets down her work and looks up at her sister. “Prim, You’re eighteen now. You know we don’t need presents, right? It’s just a made-up holiday the new Capitol thrust upon us to get people to spend money on frivolous gifts nobody needs anyway. We can celebrate the new year next week, like always.”

  “That’s not true, Katniss. It’s not a made up holiday. We used to celebrate with daddy. Right mom?”

  “That’s right, Prim,” their mother agrees with a nod.

  “Well, that was a long time ago,” Katniss huffs. “Things have changed, if you haven’t noticed.

   “So you’re not coming to the party at the Hawthornes tonight?” Mrs. Everdeen asks as she ties the ribbon on the last gift.

  “Sorry, nope. I already told Gale I wasn’t coming. I’m going to get to bed as soon as I’m done here so I can head out at the break of dawn and spend all day in the woods,” Katniss explains.

  Prim turns back to her mother. “Mom, make her come with us, please.”

  “I can’t make her go, Prim,” Mrs. Everdeen says as she caresses Prim’s cheek. She heads back to her stew pot and begins to ladle several servings into a crock, leaving just enough in the pot for Katniss’ dinner. “Put the gifts in a sack, please. Katniss has a mind of her own, always has. If she doesn’t want to go, we can’t make her, but I think she’ll be missing out on some good fun.” Mrs. Everdeen looks over at Katniss with a pointed look.

  “Yeah, yeah,” Katniss says. “Someone needs to make sure we have food to eat around here.” And with that, the conversation is over. 

  Prim and Mrs. Everdeen head over to the Hawthorne’s home and Katniss cleans up her work, eats her stew, and heads off to bed.

  Chapter 2

  Katniss is startled awake by the sound of someone stumbling around in the kitchen. She looks across the room and sees Buttercup standing guard on the empty bed. Her mother and Prim are still at the party.

  It’s not unusual for a patient to show up for her mother in the middle of the night, but they don’t usually just walk right in. Katniss slips out of bed without making a sound, signaling to Buttercup to keep quiet, but he jumps off the bed and runs down the hall. Katniss grabs the large stick she keeps under her bed in case a critter gets in. It should take care of any unwanted human as well.

  She creeps out of the bedroom and avoids stepping on the creaky floorboard just past her mother’s bedroom. As she peeks around the doorframe into the kitchen she sees someone rifling through the kitchen cabinets.

  As she tip-toes up to the trespasser, silent as a mouse, she raises her weapon above her head with both hands. If she’s going to strike, she’s going to make sure she does some damage. She takes in a deep breath and the intruder must hear because he straightens up and begins to turn around.

  She hears the stranger say, “You don’t want to do that,” before she brings the club down with all her might. But it doesn’t make contact until it slams into the floor. She must have squeezed her eyes closed before swinging because she has to open them to see how she could have possibly missed at this short distance.

  She looks up and sees the transparent, smiling face of Haymitch Abernathy, District 12’s recently deceased victor. “Nice to see you too, Sweetheart. Got anything to drink around here?”

  Katniss stumbles back, dragging her club with her until the backs of her legs hit the armchair in the living room and she plops down. “H-h-how can you be here? You’re d-d-dead,” she sputters as she pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around the useless weapon.

  “Yeah, I know,” he laments. “Thanks for coming to my funeral, by the way.”

  “Of course, you were one of my best customers,” Katniss answers. “What am I saying? Is this some kind of Capitol trick? How are you here? Why are you here?”

  “It’s no trick, Sweetheart,” Haymitch explains. “The dead who isolated themselves during their lifetime are forced to roam the earth alone. My penance is to warn others before it’s too late. You don’t want to end up like me.”

  “I’m not alone,” Katniss squeaks. “I have my sister, and my mother… I have friends.”

  “Sure Katniss. You have them now, but you keep pushing them away. In time, your sister will marry and move away, and your mother will die. Then what will you have?”

  Katniss opens her mouth to answer, but Haymitch raises his transparent hand to stop her. 

  “Don’t bother with the excuses, Sweetheart. I know them all. This is my warning to you. You will be visited by three more spirits tonight. Heed my warning, Katniss. Change your life before it’s too late.”

[redladydeath]

jhgfdfghjkhgf i was going to just post this in the video’s comment section but for some reason that’s not working so here’re act one of the william and mary play:

Mary: Look, you’re my best friend, okay? And, um, best friends tell each other everything, right? Oh my god. Excuse me. Oh, Maria Regina, it was awful! He was awful, William, my Dutch cousin, or as father likes to call him “the Dutch Dog” *laughs*… I had the honor of being forced to dine with the extended family. My little Dutch cousin William– and was he rude! Oh my god. He spent the entire meal either staring at me or grimacing at the food. No manners. And he’s old too, like, at least thirty, not that you’d know by looking at him, he’s very short, but old enough to know better, and all that I could hear the entire time was his breathing– no, no, no– wheezing, with his tiny little child-sized mouth. *imitates wheezing* [indecipherable] –cause he had [indecipherable] big monster of a nose to use, but I guess that was out of commission. And King Charles II– God save him– and all twelve of his spaniels, seated at the table, eating off of the plates– how am I related to these people?

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shh! Shh! My sister! We’re fighting! Oh god. Uncle Charles– God save him– William... ew. I’ve never fit in with this entire family and now I find out that my sister’s been ta… my sister– No, no I will not stand here and idly gossip. My sister– no. Sh– no. Sh– no. Sh– nope! Betty!

Betty: Yes, your ladyship?

Mary: Um, take Maria Regina will you?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship. Anne has been screaming for you, your ladyship.

Mary: Yes, tell her I’m dead.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: No, don’t, that’ll get her hopes up. Tell her that I’m resting– exhausted from a fascinating dinner with our exotic Dutch cousin.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: And I can trust you all? Oh, um, and would you bring me an ink, pen, and paper?

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: How’s this? Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear... girlfriend– no, no, no... lover– no, too saucy– um... husband? Yeah… it’s a woman, but we’re gonna call her a husband. Don’t get confused! Um, dearest husband, after my prayers to all-mighty God, I’ve come to make peace with you, for it is a strange thing for a man and a wife to quarrel. What more can I say to prove that I love with more zeal than any lover can? You are loved with a love never known by man–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: You are loved more than can be expressed–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: By your ever-obedient–

Anne: Mary!

Mary: SHUT UP!! –wife. But to my great sorrow, I find out that you’ve been corresponding with *whispered* my sister!

Anne: Mary!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your humble servant! To kiss the ground where you go–

Anne: What are you doing?!

Mary: Shut up! Oh, to be your dog on a string, your fish in a net, your limber trout–

Anne: She writes me too, you know!

Mary: No, she doesn’t!

Anne: Yes, she does!

Mary: Shut up! [indecipherable] If my letter has made the effect, dear “husband”, on your hard ear, I may without scruple call you my dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband.

Anne: She is not your husband and your letter to her are weird. Also, she sends me letters and calls me her husband and loves me more than she loves you and you’re a lesbian!

Mary: That word doesn’t even exist yet, Anne!

Anne: Lesbian!

Mary: Keep your voice down!

Anne: She writes me more letters.

Mary: Our love is forbidden.

Anne: Get over yourself!

Mary: She knows unlike you I’ll be queen!

Anne: Whatever. I don’t care. I don’t even want to be queen.

Mary: Oh, good, cause you never will be.

Anne: Of course I will! When your head gets so damned big from all the bullshit praise, even your ugly, masculine, lesbian neck won’t be able to support its weight. Snap! And your head will fall off, like our poor headless grandpa Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Mary: To imagine the death of a monarch is treason, I could look you in the Tower.

Anne: You couldn’t!

Mary: When I’m queen.

Anne: You wouldn’t!

Mary: I could!

Anne: Nu-uh!

Mary: Uh-huh!

Anne: You wouldn’t be the first queen to do that to a little sister.

Mary: Well, you came in here and started it.

Anne: I know. I have something to tell you.

Mary: You could’ve waited!

Anne: I have a memory. About mummy.

Mary: Did you? Really? Would you tell me?

Anne: When we knew she wouldn’t make it much longer, she asked me to come to her bedside. She had just got her blood let, so she was speaking very openly.

Mary: It’s okay, Anne!

Anne: She asked me “Do you know why I named your older sister Mary but named you after me?”

Mary: Why?

Anne: Mummy said… “Because prefer you to that bitch older sister!”

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Mom liked me more!

Mary: I was named after a queen!

Anne: Yeah, Bloody Mary! “Oh, look at me! I’m named after a fat, bloated Tudor Catholic!”

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I just came in here to ask how dinner went.

Mary: It was lovely. Leave!

Anne: Was it? I bet it was boring.

Mary: Only for a child but when you’re fifteen years old you appreciate stimulating conversation!

Anne: [indecipherable]

Mary: Good!

Anne: Was he… stimulating?

Mary: Ew! I mean… yes.

Anne: What was he like?

Mary: Tall, dark, handsome.

Anne: Really? Tall, dark, and handsome?

Mary: Mmyeah.

Anne: I’m jealous.

Mary: You should be.

Anne: Did he stare at you?

Mary: What? No.

Anne: I guess he wouldn’t. Not after what I have heard.

Mary: Oh, I don’t even want to hear your idle gossip– what did you hear?

Anne: Oh, it’s just that father told me that Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –Tried to marry you off to him.

Mary: What?

Anne: For some Dutch alliance.

Mary: What?

Anne: Yeah. He turned you down though.

Mary: He turned me down?

Anne: Three times.

Mary: What?

Anne: And here I was going to come in and make fun of you! I thought William was a tiny little goblin man. That would’ve been so embarrassing!

Mary: Right…

Anne: If you were turned down by an ugly little goblin man.

Mary: Right…

Anne: Three times!

Mary: Leave!

Anne: Why?

Mary: Leave!

Anne: I thought he was stimulating!

Mary: I want to be alone!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re so weird! Maybe you’ll actually fit in if you didn’t lock yourself in your room all the time writing creepy letters. Some queen you’ll be! You’re friends with a fish!

Mary: Well, I will be queen whether I want to or not!

Anne: Mary the Martyr, you’re engaged to Louis the fucking XIV, what right do you have to be mad at me?

Mary: ...Have you seen the latest portrait of Louis?

Anne: Yeah!

Mary and Anne: *squee*

Anne: He’s fucking gorgeous! Even for a Catholic!

Mary and Anne: *spit*

Anne: Milky skin, so fucking rich! Full deep eyes, tight little French ass…

Mary: Anne! God is listening!

Anne: [indecipherable] I’m just appreciating the work! Those portraits are rarely accurate though. You saw the portrait of Uncle Charles–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: –He looked like a Roman god dipped in oil.

Mary: What?

Anne: He glistened Mary! Like a buttered up Roman statue! In reality, he looks more like butter. Well… butter with syphilis.

Mary: Oh my god, you can be quite cruel Anne.

Anne: I’m destined to marry one of our fat, inbred cousins, so I’m allowed to be.

Mary: Sorry.

Anne: Yeah, it’s whatever. Well, I’m going! Unlike you I actually have friends to hang out with.

Mary: Oh, bad company ruins good morals.

Anne: Fuck you! See you at dinner.

Mary: That’s why that little Dutch dwarf was staring at me. Oh my God, could you imagine that tiny, wheezing little man crawling into your bed every night– oh my god, it’s an offensive thought! But the most offensive part? He said no! He said no to me! Oh my God, the man is a slug! William of Orange– blegh! And Uncle Charles– God save him– tried to make me marry that, not that I would’ve! No! I would’ve told him off, right to his face. I’m not afraid of him! I will not be made a sacrificial lamb. I would’ve told him off to his face! Right to his tiny, regal, little mustache: “No, Uncle! You may be king, but I will not marry that creature! Put me in chains; lock me in the Tower; feed me to the ghost of Cromwell; I absolutely refuse to marry that creature!” I would’ve told him off. I will not be made a sacrificial lamb!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, Jesus Christ.

Betty: Your uncle, King Charles II– God save him– is here your ladyship.

Mary: Okay, send him in.

Betty: Yes, your ladyship.

*dogs yapping*

Charles: Quiet, quiet, quiet! [indecipherable] Good doggy-woggys! Now, niece!

Mary: Oh, Uncle, God save you–

Charles: Rise dear! You’re one of the few girls at court I’d rather not see on her knees.

Mary: Oh– ew.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: I’ve just come from your mother and father’s apartments.

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Charles: Charming lady, your new mummy. She’s got those bovine hips, so I assume she’ll be plopping out heirs as soon as James’ dousing rod directs her away from foreign [indecipherable].

Mary: Oh my God.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: If God is good– and we know he is– she’ll give birth to a few boys before she’s spent. Women are quite fragile, as you know Mary. It’s especially hard with our good Stuart stock and– Oh, Dicky, no, no hump, no hump, daddy has a [indecipherable]. Might we can hope for a few younger brothers– you’d like that, wouldn’t you Mary?

Mary: Oh, yes, dear uncle. How I love being an older sister to our dear, simple Anne and how I’d revel in the opportunity to be an older sister again.

Charles: Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: [indecipherable] England [indecipherable] worry that another woman would take the throne.

Mary: Yes, poor England.

Charles: Yes.

Mary: Ah, ah, ah, ah!

Charles: Dicky! If that heifer can squeeze out just one little boy, England is saved! Oh, Mary, you see it’s not that women shouldn’t be involved in politics, it’s that they can’t. Their brains aren’t built for it! I don’t even know if you can comprehend what I’m saying to you right now!

Mary: I’m lost.

Charles: Yes, I assumed so. Oyster?

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty! *grunting*

Charles: *chocking, spits* [indecipherable] Go on, up! [indecipherable] Now, where were we? Yes– women are not fit to rule.

Mary: Sorry, once more.

Charles: I am king.

Mary: You are king.

Charles: I am a great king.

Mary: You are a great king.

Charles: Women… cannot be kings.

Mary: No, they’re queens.

Charles: …Very good Mary! I’m very proud. That’s a real thought you just had!

Mary: I’m lost again.

Charles: So, if I am king and women…?

Mary: Can’t be kings.

Charles: Then women…?

Mary: Can’t be great kings?

Charles: Exactly! I am very impressed with your understanding of Restoration politics. As king, I’ve found it requires tremendous subtlety. OW! Dicky, get off! Dicky, don’t let–! God, you bastard! Bite that hand that feeds you, ey? Groom of the Stool!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty?

Charles: Lock him in the Tower!

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty.

Charles: You made a big mistake, Dicky! No [indecipherable] bites a sovereign.

Groom of the Stool: Yes, your majesty!

Charles: Now, let us break our conversation into greater areas regarding your sex.

Mary: Ah, like needle crappy gossip.

Charles: And… boys.

Mary: Ah, yes, boys.

Charles: And… marriage.

Mary: Ah, yes, my purpose in life.

Charles: You a beautiful Stuart girl– Protestant– a large Protestant wedding to a regal, Protestant husband.

Mary: No, ha, Louis’ Catholic.

Charles: Louis? Yes, he’s Catholic.

Mary: Right, but you just said–

Charles: You, a beautiful Stuart girl– 

Mary: Oh no!

Charles: A large Protestant wedding–

Mary: Oh, god!

Charles: To a regal–

Mary: No!

Charles: Protestant...

Mary: Please!

Charles: Did you enjoy dinner last night? You [indecipherable] to impressed your cousin.

Mary: No.

Charles: William! Were you taken by him, Mary?

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: He was very taken by you.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: Your first cousin, so you’ll have a lot in common!

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: My dead sister’s boy! She was a real bitch.

Mary: *bahing*

Charles: And you’ll have the line of succession, so you won’t have to worry about being queen, Mary. William can handle it. Sorry he’s such a cold, ugly bastard.

Mary: *spluttering*

Charles: Your Catholic father *spits* is pissed. Not surprising, but I ordered him to shut the fuck up about it. The wedding is next week. La~!

Mary: Wait! Anne!

Charles: Oh, you’re too thoughtful, dear girl! Anne will be fine on her own.

Mary: No, no, no, marry Anne off to William!

Charles: Certainly not! You’re next in line after your idiot father. We’ll marry Anne off to one of the fat, inbred cousins.

Mary: But I learned French!

Charles: And now you’ll get to learn Dutch! It’s not a beautiful language, but it matches the people. The king exits!

Mary: *sobbing*

*church music / exert of “Aria” by Marco Rosano*

Priest: Gathered! His Royal Highness Charles II!

Ensemble: GOD SAVE HIM!

Priest: The bride’s father James (the eventual second)– what? Your father refused to attend!

Mary: *sobbing*

Priest: We are gathered today in the eyes of our Protestant God to witness the eternal joining of two people, and more importantly, two nations. Our beloved England and our at-least-for-the-time-being-not-enemy Holland.

*fanfare*

Priest: The Dutch Stand Stadtholder! ...William? ...The Prince of Orange!

William: *violent coughing*

Priest: William? You good?

William: Ja.

Priest: Do you need a minute?

William: [indecipherable]

Priest: Okay! So… the, uh… the Dutch Stadtholder! The Prince of Orang– William?

William: *violent coughing* [indecipherable]

Priest: We are gathered– we are– we’re gathered– we are gathered– gathered– and we are gathered–

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Pardon?

William: [Dutch word]

Priest: Sorry, I–

William: [Dutch word], stepping [Dutch word].

Priest: Oh, yes. *groaning* NOW! We are gathered for the joining of two people, two nations, and one [indecipherable] faith. Do you, Mary, take a solemn vow to obey and honor William until you’re parted by death? Okay, good. Do you, William, take a solemn vow to take Mary as your bride and treat her with whatever respect you happen to feel like showing her? Alright, whoo! You’re all good in here. You may kiss the bride.

William: *violent coughing*

*retro dance music* / exert of “Oh! Oh! I'm Goin' Home” by The Peppers

Mary: Wow. Midnight. Where did the time go?

William: Time for bed.

Mary: Right. Yup. Time for bed. It’s late and… it’s late and… it’s late and… it’s time for bed and there’s the bed, it’s time for bed and… we’re married now.

Charles: Now, nephew! To your purpose! God save Saint George and England! *giggling*

Mary: Right, historically, um, all of that actually happened. Well– oh, sorry, I was talking to someone else. Well, I guess it’s late, right? It’s late and it’s, um, time to go do– time to do– time to go do do do do do do do do doing of it. Ah! Wow. A ring… Is it for me? …Should I take it? …I’ll take it. Wow… a ruby… yes, ruby– rubies are very– rubies are red! Red. Rubies are… pink actually, now that I look at it. Funny, they’re really much more pink. Everyone always says “ruby red” but they’re much more pink when you look at it, oh look at that, it’s–

William: My mother’s.

Mary: Your mother’s? Wow. Beautiful. Ring. That was your mother’s. Ring, ruby, ring, ruby, ring–

William: She’s dead.

Mary: What? Oh, I’m sorry. About that– that she’s dead. What happened? Sorry! No, none of my business. Poor Mum! Um, my mom is dead. Died when I was a child so… I know what it’s like. To have a dead mum. *awkward laughter*

William: You don’t have to smile for me. You don’t have to pretend.

Mary: Dearest dear, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband– this is the woman again, um... You’ll find a pair of horns on your front door for… it appears I’ve taken another husband. Hm…

*whistle*

Anne: I brought you a going-away present. It’s another goldfish.

Mary: Thank you, sister.

Anne: I knew you already that one, so you’d like it. I hope they don’t eat each other. Do goldfish eat each other? Is it a long trip to Holland?

Mary: I don’t know!

Anne: You seem glum. Story time! When Aunt Catherine–

Mary and Anne: God save her!

Anne: Married Uncle Charlie–

Mary and Anne: God save him!

Anne: She had to leave Portugal in order to marry him. She hadn’t even met him yet, so I guess it could be worse.

Mary: Yes, but she came to England, I’m leaving it!

Anne: Yeah, fair. Just trying to help.

Mary: I don’t need your help, dear sister, this is my cross to bear.

Anne: Saint Mary the Martyr of English diplomacy! If only you were Catholic.

Mary and Anne: *spit*

*whistle*

Mary: I’ve never left London, that’s what scares me the most. God be with thee, sister. God be with thee, England.

William: …Two.

Mary: Oh. Yes, Anne got me one as a going-away pr– okay.

Anne: I hate him.

Mary: Well, he’s your brother now.

Anne: Please, I hated him when he was my cousin. I think you should be the first Protestant saint just for sleeping with him. I can’t even imagine!

Mary: …Neither can I.

Anne: WHAT?! TELL ME EVERYTHING!!

Mary: Well, considering we haven’t, that’s everything to tell!

Anne: Oh my God! You’ve been married a week!

Mary: This stays between you and me, Anne!

Anne: Oh, but Mary, I have to tell my friends!

Mary: I don’t like your friends!

Anne: Fuck you! The court would die if they knew!

Mary: No!

Anne: But Mary, you can’t tell something this juicy and force me to hold it inside!

Mary: Shh!

Anne: But it’s not you Mary, it’s him. That puny prig.

Mary: No.

Anne: But you don’t even like him!

Mary: What wife likes her husband?

Anne: He’s so gross and I used to think you were gross, but he’s like, super gross. Oh thank God you’re not screwing! Your kids would be so gro– I didn’t realize Papa hadn’t told you the truth about him!

Mary: Oh, what did father say?

Anne: He buggers boys. Said he buggers boys. Said if he takes the throne, England gets two queens.

Mary: …I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths, Anne… And tell my other husband I’ll send her the new address.

Anne: Gross! [indecipherable] each other!

*Dutch folk music* / exert of “Klompe Dans” by Camerata Trajectina

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Oh, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Ah, yes, thank you.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you.

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, good day William!

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Life in Holland. It’s beautiful. It’s very, very clean.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Your ladyship?

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Thank you! Please keep talking, Betty.

Betty: Your ladyship–

Citizens: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Anything in English– thank you!

Betty: *whispers*

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

*fanfare*

Betty: Supper time!

Mary: I’m not hungry.

Betty: Not you, your ladyship.

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland…

Mary: …Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

Mary: I must grin when my heart is fit to break, I must speak when my heart is so oppressed I can scarcely breathe.

Betty: Oh, that’s real pretty. The Bastard, your ladyship.

Mary: The Bastard?

Betty: Your half-cousin, King Charles II– God Save Him–’s bastard son, your ladyship.

Mary: Here?

Betty: Uh-huh.

Mary: Whoo!

Monmouth: Cousin!

William: Let me not interrupt your reunion. Continue this.

Mary: How’s home?

Monmouth: England is good! The family not so much. My father, Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –seems ill. Parliament hates your father, James (the eventual second) since he’s decided to be Catholic–

Mary and Monmouth: *spit*

Monmouth: –since we just had nine years of civil war, ugh! People would rather avoid any foreseeable royalist drama, so Parliament wrote the Exclusion Act to keep your father off the throne.

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –refused to sign it.

Mary: Oh, good.

Monmouth: No! That’s why [indecipherable] is shit! Charles II–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –dissolved Parliament, hoping to form a more moderate one.

Mary: Oh, good!

Monmouth: No! Bad! A group of Protestants then tried to blow up my papa Charlie–

Mary and Monmouth: God save him!

Monmouth: –on his way back from a race to [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: Oh yes!

Monmouth: –[indecipherable] watching the race, ALL OF NEWMARKET CAUGHT ON FIRE!!

Mary: Oh no!

Monmouth: No, that’s good! Charles’– God save him– house in Newmarket was destroyed, so they had to leave the race early, thus foiling the plot to kill him!

Mary: Oh, God is very generous to our family. And how’s Anne?

Monmouth: Married.

Mary: Oh, to one of the inbred cousins?

Monmouth: We’re royal! Inbred cousins are the only dignified option! How’s life in the Dutch court?

Mary: Um… clean, it’s very, very clean.

Monmouth: Ah, thank God you have William.

Mary: *hysterical laughter* ...Yes. No, I do see William from time to time. He likes to walk from stage left to stage right to stage right to stage left.

Monmouth: Incredibly generous man– looking forward to our dinner tonight! He invited me to hunt tomorrow and all the rest of next week! Very charming!

Mary: You’ve only been onstage for a minute and a half!

Betty: There are more officials for you to meet, your ladyship.

Monmouth: See you around, cuz. Ch-cha! …Ch-cha!

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Mary: Dank u.

Citizens: Ooo!

William: …Welkom in Nederland! *laughter, interrupted by violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Citizen: Welkom in Nederland!

Betty: Alright! Her ladyship has another engagement she must prepare for, so sorry!

Mary: Ugh, what’s next Betty?

Betty: Nothing, your ladyship. I just think you’ve been gawked at enough today.

Mary: Oh, thank you Betty!

Betty: What’s a lady-in-waiting for?

Mary: But I’m afraid William might be cross once he finds out I didn’t finish all the state greetings. I guess I’d actually have to spend time with him for him to be cross with me.

Betty: He’s not one to get cross about things; he’s quite charming actually if you get past the hermetic silence.

Mary: I suppose he prefers the company of *whispered* his men?

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: *laughing*

William: *starts coughing violently*

Monmouth: I love this guy!

*fanfare*

Betty: You’ve heard that already, have you?

Mary: Is it true?

Betty: Rumors, your ladyship. I also heard rumors of a girl who wrote letters to a woman she called her husband. And I now know a woman who still writes these letters!

Mary: Dismissed!

Betty: Your ladyship.

Mary: Wait. Put the children to bed, will you? Wait– wait, wait wait– just [indecipherable]. Don’t judge me! Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– stop!– husband… Let me start again: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear husband: You’ve not responded to any of my letter as of late!

Anne: Dearest sister!

Mary: Oh good God, Anne! Still able to interrupt me from across the English Chanel!

Anne: It is with good nice that I write. Since we last spoke… I’m pregnant!

Mary and Anne: *squeeing*

Anne: I know! I know! I fucking know! Ah, someone has to produce some heirs in this family!

Mary: Hey…

Anne: What have you been up to? Oh! My friends are here! Thank you, sis!

Mary: Anne is pregnant. My younger sister is pregnant …I’m jealous! Ugh!

*fanfare*

William and Monmouth: To hunt!

Monmouth: ♪ I’ll sing you eight, O! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Green grow the rushes, O! ♪

William: ♪ What are your eight, O? ♪

Monmouth: ♪ Eight for the April Rainers! ♪

William: ♪ Seven for the seven stars in the sky! ♪

William and Monmouth: ♪ Six for the six proud walkers! ♪ Five for the symbols at your door! ♪ Four for the Gospel makers! ♪ THREE, THREE THE RIVALS! ♪ Two, two the lily-white boys! ♪ Clothed all in green, O! ♪ One is one and all alone! ♪ And evermore shall be so! ♪

*fanfare*

Mary: Betty!

Betty: *imitating the song*

Mary: Stop!

Betty: Oh! Yes, your ladyship.

Mary: My cousin, the Bastard, and Prince William have been spending an awful lot of time together!

Betty: William loves the hunt.

Mary: How do you know?!

Betty: He told me!

Mary: You’ve spoken with him? Am I the only person in the entire world who’s not had a single conversation with my husband?!

Betty: You just need to catch him in the right mood.

*fanfare*

Mary: Dearest, dear, dear, dear, dear, dear– Oh my God, you’re pathetic! Two husbands and neither one replies!

Anne: Okay, so I wasn’t pregnant. Well, I was, but I’m not anymore.

Mary: Oh… Anne I’m so sorry!

Anne: I know. But I will be again. Maybe tonight! God be with me!

Mary: I don’t have to be Mary the Martyr. I can fix him. I can make it work. It’s a job, right? I-I-I-I-I-I-I-I’m just doing my job!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! Um, I was wondering–

William: Nothing!

Monmouth: The hunt did not go well!

William: Ugh!

Anne: Yup, pregnant!

Mary: Again? Wow!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’d love to talk with you!

William: …but–but–but we’re going to the hunt?

Mary: Yes, but I’d really like to talk with you.

William: …Okay?

Mary: In private.

William: Um… After the hunt?

Mary: Yeah, okay, sure.

*fanfare*

Anne: Okay, that pregnancy wasn’t meant to be, but tonight, THIS IS THE ONE!

Mary: Tonight, this is the one!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, William! I’m so looking forward to our evening!

William: Not in the mood!

Monmouth: The stag got away!

*fanfare*

Mary: The stag got away…

Anne: Pregnant!

Mary: Ugh!

*fanfare*

Mary: William, wait! Tonight?

William: Eh!

Mary: Wait! Here, for good luck!

Monmouth: *retching*

*fanfare*

Mary: Tonight! Tonight!

*fanfare*

Mary: Oh, husband! How was the hunt?

William: I got the stag!

Mary: Oh, you must be very merry!

William: I… uh… I’m exhausted. Ugh…

Monmouth: Come on. Shake it off.

William: *violent coughing*

*fanfare*

Mary: I will force myself to love this creature.

*fanfare*

Mary: *screams* ...Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! It must have been a chill!

William: [indecipherable]!

Mary: Oh, oh no! Oh no! Oh, my slipper! Oh, I–I’m so sorry to, uh, keep you from you duties!

William: I’ve been meaning to schedule a time for our talk.

Mary: Oh, you remembered?

William: What was the subject?

Mary: Us. You and me. Us and our… duties.

William: Ah. Our political duties are not as rulers, but as first citizens. Stadtholder means “the first citizen.” It is very different from life in England. For example, no Dutch citizen kisses my hand. In the Netherlands, we are all equals. Calvinists, Protestants, Jews– even the Jews Mary. [indecipherable] Do you like Holland?

Mary: Oh, it’s very, very clean. I’m not, um… I’m not sure if I’m fitting in.

William: Well, I don’t fit in and I was born here.

Mary: I feel the same way about my family.

William: Our family.

Mary: You’re very close to the Bastard, you know. Hunting and… actually talking and I was thinking, now that we’re actually talking, Anne is pregnant… again.

William: Ja? ...Yes? …This life is not the life you wanted, is that a true thing I just said? Bastard! Where is [indecipherable]?!

Monmouth: *whispers*

William: Your uncle, Charles II–

Mary: God save him!

William: –he’s dead.

Charles: …Oh.

Anne: I had a miscarriage. Oh, and Daddy’s the king now. God save him.

William: To his newly crowned majesty– James II– I send you greetings–

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James II! Boy, you’re the husband of my eldest daughter, the heir apparent to the throne of England, my father’s grandchild, my son-in-law: it’s King James II!

William: Ah. From one very close ally to another very, very close ally– that is what we still are, right?

James: Say it! Say my name, William!

William: King James II?

James: YES! That’s me, the king! Say it again!

William: King James II, I first wish to send you condolences on the death of your brother, God save hi–

James: I was at his bed when he passed.

William: Surely, you provided much comfort to Charles–

James: Oh, “surely provided much comfort to Charles,” yes! He converted, on his deathbed, to Catholicism!

William: *spits*

James: I’ll never forget his final words to me: “Make sure my whores don’t starve!” Men of power keep mistresses, you know… Do you know that, William?

William: …Well, uh, the reason I write is because, well, I have an offer for you. You see, here in Europe we have a little club. I call it “a league”. Not everyone is allowed into it, actually, but England most definitely would be allowed in “the league”. It is what may be described as “exclusive”. A lot of really great countries have joined: uh, Austria, Spain, the Netherlands, even Savoy.

James: Which countries are not allowed?

William: France.

James: Oh, don’t like Louis, do we?

William: No, I don’t! Louis wants to be king of Europe and he– he is routinely invading us here in Holland. Your son-in-law: who is that? That is me! Which I know you aren’t thrilled about, but your daughter is the Princess of Orange. Louis XIV is invading not just my country, but also her country.

James: Please. Mary’s country is, and always will be, England!

William: And as the future Queen of England, you should protect her.

James: I wouldn’t be so sure about Mary. While she is the eldest, she’s still a woman, and unlike you, William, I plan to perform kingly duties with my queen.

William: I just wanted to invite you to our league.

James: I’m very important, I’ve got to go.

William: France is at our borders as we speak!

James: That’s not my problem. Mary was betrothed to him for years, you know, before she married you. My idiot brother made that happen against my protests but I’m the king now! I wasn’t supposed to be, but God wanted me. God needs me! Sixty years of second-fiddle to King Syphilis and now I’m calling the shots, William! I don’t need you, you need me, and frankly, I don’t really like you.

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!

William: Why you do that?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: Shh!! Thank you. Ooo, ooo, how they all loved my brother Charles the Pervert– forced me to marry my daughter to that Dutch abortion! Now, I’d like to speak to the court! You all like… gossip, don’t you? Let’s talk about William.

*retro music / exert of “O Samba Brasileiro” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: They’re laughing, Maria Regina. They’ve been whispering all morning and I don’t– I don’t want to sound paranoid but… I hear my name. I hear William’s name and I hear… Betty’s name.

Messengers: God save him!

Mary: Hello?

Messenger 1: Your father sends us–

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: James II–

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Oh, Father sends you?

Messengers: God save him, yes!

Messenger 2: In his infinite and divine wisdom, we were sent to you–

Messenger 1: His oldest daughter–

Messenger 2: Possibly the future queen–

Mary: Possibly?

Messenger 1: Your mother, the queen–

Mary: She’s not my mother.

Messenger 2: Is hoping to reward England with many sons–

Messenger 1: But one’s eyes are to the future–

Messenger 2: He hasn’t forgotten his eldest.

Mary: Oh, we haven’t spoken–

Messenger 1: He thinks of you often.

Mary: Well, he doesn’t write.

Messenger 1: It’s not that he thinks of you as you are–

Mary: Okay…?

Messenger 2: More for what you could be.

Mary: Well, I’m just happy that he’s thinking of me.

Messenger 2: He’s thinking of your soul.

Messenger 1: Your eternal soul.

Messenger 2: Your eternal, everlasting soul.

Mary: Yup, those both mean the same thing.

Messenger 1: Since Jesus was crucified–

Messenger 2: [indecipherable], mind you–

Mary: Yes, I’ve heard.

Messenger 1: A church was born–

Messenger 2: The Catholic Church!

Mary: *spits* Oh, sorry, habit.

Messenger 1: James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has sent us–

Messenger 2: In his infinite and sacred judgment–

Messengers: To convert you to Catholicism!

Mary: …Yeah, no, I’m good.

Messenger 1: It’s the true faith.

Mary: Yes, next time he could just write.

Messenger 2: [indecipherable] reading materials!

Mary: Right, or even visit–

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] all the celebrities are Catholic.

Messenger 2: Wow, really?

Messenger 1: Really!

Messengers: Like who?

Messenger 2: The pope, you ever heard of him?

Messenger 1: Of course! Wow, the pope is Catholic?

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: God!

Mary: Debatable.

Messengers: Who else?

Messenger 2: Louis XIV.

Messenger 1: Whoah, he’s a heartthrob.

Mary: Yes, okay, I’ve heard enough!

Messenger 1: But Louis’ such a hunk!

Messenger 2: And Catholic!

Messenger 1: And… He’s Catholic?

Messenger 2: You better believe it!

Messengers: A Catholic hunk!

Mary: Okay, I’m married!

Messenger 1: For now.

Mary: …Excuse me?

Messenger 1: Hard to ignore the rumors–

Messenger 2: Naughty rumors–

Messenger 1: Everyone’s tittling–

Messenger 2: A-tittle here, a-tittle there–

Messengers: Tittle everywhere!

Messenger 1: That little Dutch devil–

Messenger 2: Evil Protestant pervert–

Mary: Oh, no, no, no, him buggering boys– that’s just a rumor!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messenger 1: Boys?!

Messenger 2: Buggering?!

Messengers: Buggering boys?!

Messenger 1: More like buggering the help.

Messenger 2: Dutch devil!

Mary: With the help?

Messengers: Buggering the help.

Messenger 1: Yes, everyone knows–

Messenger 2: Knows her name even.

Mary: Do you know their name?

Messenger 1: Well, I’ve said everyone–

Messenger 2: We’re part of everyone–

Mary: So, yes?

Messengers: Yes!

Mary: What’s his name?

Messenger 1: His name?

Messenger 2: His name?

Messengers: Squinty Betty!

Messenger 1: Squinty Betty’s a man?

Messenger 2: I didn’t know she was a man!

Messeger 1: No, I bet Betty’s a man.

Messenger 2: No, man, she’s a wo-man.

Messenger 1: Wo-man?

Messengers: Wo-man, she’s a wo-man!

Mary: Wait, Squinty Betty?!

Messenger 1: And the Dutch devil!

Messenger 2: Evil Dutch devil!

Messenger 1: Evil!

Messenger 2: Evil: that’s not good!

Messenger 1: No, it’s not good!

Messenger 2: That’s the opposite of good!

Messengers: And what’s the opposite of good?

Mary: Evil!

Messangers: *scream*

Mary: *screams*

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] James–

Messenger 2: King James–

Messengers: God save him!

Messenger 1: Has the fires burning.

Mary: Fires?

Messenger 2: To feel the heat.

Messenger 1: Ow!

Messenger 2: Careful.

Messenger 1: It’s the heat.

Messenger 2: I feel it.

Messenger 1: [indecipherable] King James [indecipherable] our beloved England [indecipherable] burning more evil people than Charles ever did.

Mary: Wait, he’s burning people?

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: He’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Father’s burning people?!

Messenger 2: [indecipherable]

Messenger 1: Evil people!

Mary: Jesus!

Messengers: Praise him!

Messenger 1: Praise Jesus!

Messenger 2: Praise God!

Messenger 1: Praise the pope!

Messenger 2: And above all, praise the king!

Messengers: God save King James II, long may he reign!

Mary: …William and Betty– no… No, I’ll have nothing to do with silly, irreverent myths… Betty! Um, throw these away. And, um, put the children to bed, will you? Oh– oh– oh– oh– oh, um… question: how is it you always to find William in such a talkative mood?

Betty: I just run into him.

*laid back retro music / exert of “Rain” by Walter Wanderley*

Mary: It’s late. No, you don’t have to leave. You were in Betty’s room. Do you know how I know that? Maybe because the entire court is talking about it! No, you don’t need to talk! I have tried to get you to talk for months, you do not need to talk now! Fuck off, Betty! The longest I’ve ever spent with you is [indecipherable]. You’re impossible! You’re thick! Uncaring! Cruel! My life here is suffering and now you make me the fool? To my father, to the court, and to myself! I’m the fool! You know, it was better when I thought you were gay; I thought “Well, at least it’s not my fault” but now I know, “No, it is my fault!” You turned down marrying me once before, why did you have to say yes this time? I was engaged to Louis XIV! I could’ve been in Versailles, in the most beautiful place on Earth and I would’ve been happy– no, I would be happy! And I would be liked and my family would love me and I would’ve done everything right, but then you came along! And ruined it! And everything! And me! And– this isn’t right! No! This is not how this was supposed to go! It was supposed to be me and Louis and it would’ve been right and normal and then I would be normal and happy and I don’t know– I don’t know why you had to say yes this time! Louis– Louis– Louis is– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis– Louis’ the king! Right? Right? And he’s beautiful! I assume. I’ve seen the portraits– which are rarely accurate– but I’ve always wanted to marry him! Well, I was always supposed to marry him– but at least he’s nice! Yes, I’ve not met him, but at least I’ve heard that he’s ni– well, I guess I’ve actually not heard anything, but I was alway supposed to ma– Well, I guess I always– Okay, well, I guess I’ve never really actually thought about it! Well, I guess I never actually like Louis, or men… Men in general. I mean, I write to a woman who I call my husband, and I’ve always had a crush on her, but she’s not very nice to me, and she writes to my sister more than she writes to me, AND I DON’T KNOW IF I’M A LESBIAN, OKAY?! I don’t like men! But I don’t know if I like women either– historically speaking, there’s some things we just can’t know about me, okay, historically speaking– but personally speaking, you know what? I’M FIFTEEN YEARS OLD!! How am I supposed to know?! You know what? No! I didn’t want to marry Louis, now that I think about it, because, well, I never actually thought about it because, well, I’M NEVER SUPPOSED TO THINK! But I am gonna think! Like you said, we’re just first citizens here, right? So I’m allowed to think! So I’m gonna think! So I’m gonna think! Right, let me think! …Okay. I have something to say. I’m fifteen years old, William. Do you have any idea how scary this is? Leaving my country, marrying you, a stranger, I… I don’t speak the language, I don’t have any friends, and you, my husband, are still a stranger. You don’t have to love me. You don’t have to like me. But please don’t be cruel to me. I… I do not know how much… more a fifteen year old girl can take.

William: …Betty’s a spy. Before I married you, I had asked her to inform me about you.

Mary: Yeah, a spy, that’s the best you could come up with–

William: It’s true.

Mary: Yes, my lady-in-waiting is a spy! …Well, what did Betty the spy say?

William: She said you weren’t like your family.

Mary: Well, I tried to be like them.

William: I never tried.

Mary: Well, I think that makes you honest.

William: But not liked.

Mary: Well, they don’t like either of us. We share that at least.

William: I need to say something.

Mary: Okay! Good! Yeah! Okay! I’m here! I can listen! …Is it a problem? Is it personal? Is it about what I think it’s about? I know what it is, William.

William: You do?

Mary: Yes. It’s about–

Mary and William: Your penis / Your father

William: Wait, what?!

Mary: What about my father?

William: He terrifies me.

Mary: Oh, yeah, me too.

William: The balance of peace in this world is a delicate thing and James isn’t.

Mary: You can talk to me about these things, William. I know who my father is, you’re not going to hurt my feelings.

William: Yes… My penis?

Mary: Oh, um, well, I mean… why haven’t we…?

William: I’m uncomfortable around–

Mary: Me.

William: …people.

Mary: Oh, yeah, well, same, haha... But, um… It’s just a job, right? We would just be… doing our… our job.

*classical music / exert of “Zadok The Priest, Hwv 258″ by the English Chamber Orchestra*

William: *panting*

William: *panting*

William: *panting*

Mary: I HAVE NEWS! …I’M PREGNANT!! I did it! William did it! We, um… well, obviously, we did it. Oh my God, I feel a strange thing!

William: Are you okay?!

Mary: No! Yes! No! …I feel… happy.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: Hello, Anne!

Anne: Hello, Mary.

Mary: You’re pregnant?

Anne: No, Mumsy is.

Mary: She’s not our mother.

Anne: They say if it’s a boy, God has chosen to make England Catholic again, but that’s only a 50-50 chance.

Mary: No, he wouldn’t baptize him Catholic, Anne.

Anne: I wouldn’t be so sure.

Mary: But we’ve just had nine years of civil war, why would he lead us into another?

Anne: To save us from the Dutch Devil.

William: Me?

Anne: I prefer “the Dutch Abortion” but “devil” isn’t bad. Gotta go!

Mary: God be with thee, Anne.

Anne: P.S. I may be pregnant, not sure.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Mary: Ohhh!

Messengers: Glorious day!

Messenger 1: Tra-la!

Messenger 2: We’ve been sent to you by your father, the king!

Messenger 1: God save him!

Messenger 2: Long may he reign!

Mary: Again, he could always just write.

Messenger 1: He has his own pregnancy to attend to.

Messenger 2: His future son!

Mary: Are you certain about that?

Messenger 1: God ordained it!

Messenger 2: A Catholic England!

Messengers: Tra-la!

Messenger 1: We’ve been sent to beseech you.

Messenger 2: Consider your child’s–

Messenger 1: Everlasting soul!

Messenger 2: Baptize your child in the Catholic faith!

Mary: *spits* …morning sickness.

Messenger 1: For your child!

Messenger 2: For your father!

Messenger 1: You must respect him!

Messenger 2: Honor him!

Messenger 1: It’s in the Bible!

Messenger 2: “Honor thy father”!

Messengers: The Fifth Commandment!

Messenger 1: Honor the king of England!

Messenger 2: God save him!

Messenger 1: Long may he reign!

Messenger 2: For England!

Messengers: Make the baby Catholic!

William: Mary?

Mary: Yes?

William: Honor is not obeying.

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Anne: I have news!

Mary: You’re pregnant.

Anne: Besides that, Mary, but yes.

Mary: Oh, congratulations!

Anne: Yes, same to you!

Mary: Thank you!

Anne: Thank you! I have news: people are talking about Mother’s pregnancy–

Mary: Ah, she’s not our mother.

Anne: –And they think it’s all a big fake! Everyone is saying how [video skips]

Mary: Who’s saying that?

Anne: The court, Parliament, everyone! Oh, they don’t like Papa; they say every nineteen out of twenty want him gone.

Mary: Yes, but not likely cause the king does not–

William: Mary–

Anne: Ew!

Mary: Anne!

Anne: Sorry… Hello, William… glad you got my sister pregnant. *retches*

Mary: No. No, it’s not right for me to dance… No! No, I can have this moment! I can be happy! Yeah, nothing’s gonna stop me– *claps* –from enjoying this moment! Go ahead!

*cheerful folk music / “Bransle de Bourgogne” by Brisk Recorder Quartet Amsterdam*

Monmouth: Ah! I thank you for the generosity both you and William have shown me over the last undetermined period of time, but I must leave.

William: Oh, where’re you going? I was going to plan another hunt.

Monmouth: There comes a time in every mans life where the cruel, [indecipherable] eye of destiny looks upon him! The hero of every story has his moment of action! [indecipherable] standing on the precipice of glory to see the apotheosis of my journey’s end on that glorious mountain green! Today I sail! This story shall no longer wander unguided like an orphan clinging from one vague historical anecdote to another! No! Search no longer, poor play, for you have found your hero! And that hero… it’s me. Someone has to save our England! I have a mighty army of almost one hundred men! Eighty two to be exact!

Mary: Wait, with eighty two men you’re planning to–

Monmouth: Invade England, seize the crown, depose your father, my uncle, and save England from Catholic *spits* tyranny?

Mary: You’re planning on doing this with…

Monmouth: Eighty two men! Historically, this is what I did, so yah. [indecipherable] sweet cousin, it will be a Protestant England! ALL HAIL KING BASTARD THE FIRST! CHA-CHAH! Ah! He-yaaaaaaaaaaaa!!

Mary: Eighty two men can’t overthrow the king of England!

William: He’s hoping the people will rise.

Mary: What would they do to father?

William: Kill him.

Mary: Ah! Ah!

William: Okay, okay, okay! The Bastard doesn’t have any support, your father will be fine! You can have this moment; you deserve to be happy.

Mary: How? I may not like my family, but I love them. Yes, I-I deserve to be happy, but Father doesn’t deserve to die!

William: He won’t, he’ll be fine!

Mary: You can’t know that for sure.

William: I do! …I-I promise you– I-I… I promise on the life of our child that nothing will happen to your father. I’ll see to it.

Mary: You will?

William: Mmhm.

Mary: …Okay… Okay, yes, okay… I’m happy.

William: Rest. Nurse? Take my wife to her bedchamber. Make sure she doesn’t want for anything.

Mary: Ooo!

William: [indecipherable]. James?

*evil music / exert of “Allegro” by Marco Rosano*

James: James?! Use my full title!

William: I have grave news.

James: Oh, has France invaded you again?

William: Your nephew, the Duke of Monmouth–

James: Who?

William: …The Bastard.

James: Oh, why didn’t you say?! How is the lad?

William: He’s leading an army to depose you and take the crown for himself.

James: *laughs* You’re having a laugh! …Shit! How dare he! Doesn’t he know who I am?! I’m the king! I’m very well respected and loved– everybody loves me! *gasps* Why doesn’t he love me?! Oh, he’s just a little shit bastard, I’ll crush him! How dare he not see how awesome I am! How powerful and strong and– oh! I am so mad right now! It was a good day too, it was going really well, I had just finished telling the queen “I’m gonna make it a good one today, you know!” Ugh, I am so mad right now I’m literally shaking! *gasps* I need to eat something!

William: I hope you now see that our relationship is very…

*execution drums / exert from “March to the Scaffold” by Paul Edward*

Headsman: *giggling* For your crimes against the crown, you are sentenced to death!

James: Say hello to your father for me, boy. Any last words?

Monmouth: Fuck off!

James: How dare you! Kill the bastard!

Headsman: God save the king!

James: No one questions my authority!

Monmouth: Piss off!

James: Bastard?!

Monmouth: I have still a few [indecipherable]

James: How dare you! [indecipherable]

Headsman: Thank you. One more!

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh?

Monmouth: You are!

James: Bastard! [indecipherable] I am not a douchebag, I am the king of England!

Monmouth: Douche of England more like it!

James: Cut off his head!

Headsman: [indecipherable] does anyone want to take over, huh?

Monmouth: It takes– ugh! –and this is all true– ugh! –five blows! Ugh! King Douche II! Ugh– *splutters*

James: Who’s the douchebag now, huh? Not me. I am not a douche! You hear me, Bastard?! I am not a douche! You hear me, England? I am not a douche! I am King James II! Not King Douche II! King James II! Charles didn’t respect me, and you, you didn’t respect me, but my people will. OR I’LL FUCKING MAKE THEM! They will fucking tremble in love and adoration– ohh! I want hundreds to pay for this bastard’s actions! I don’t care who they were, if they even so much as saw him walk by, they are to be executed. Churchyard trees are to be littered with corpses, the military men will be order to play in time with the twitching of their feet! And if you think that this is too much, too cruel, I’ll remind you: One, I am just being historically accurate, and two, I am the goddamn motherfucking King of England! William!

William: …your majesty.

James: Oh, I couldn’t’ve done it without you! …But I know what this is. Scared to lose a few more windmills to Louis, huh? What, you thought that you could bribe me with this little quid-pro-quo?

William: I didn’t do it for you, I did it for Mary.

James: Mary? Don’t you dare bring my daughter into this. What? You thought that I was so stupid that little nugget of information would have me on all-fours like a whipped bitch begging to do you any favor you asked? No! That little shit was nothing! I could have fought him off while wiping my ass! I owe you nothing! France may be at your borders, but England could join them just as easily! God knows Louis and I talk about it. *laughs* Tip-toe around me, William. Now, I’d like to speak to my daughter. Now!

William: Mary, could you come here, please? I have a letter for you from your father.

Mary: He’s safe! Thank you, William!

James: Mary, my eldest daughter! *laughs* You know, I fought your uncle Charles about you having to marry that–

Mary: [indecipherable] William’s wonderful, actually. Yes, I–I miss my home very much, but Holland, it’s very, very clean.

James: [indecipherable] they tell me you’re considering a Catholic baptism.

Mary: Oh, no I’m not, Father.

James: You have a responsibility to me, Mary. Biblically, I am your father and you must honor me.

Mary: Well– I do honor you.

James: Then you must obey me.

Mary: Well, honor is not obeying.

James: From King Douche II to you now?

Mary: King Douche?

James: How dare you! I am very [indecipherable] you talk back to me. I am your father and you must honor me!

Mary: Enough of this.

James: You will make the child Catholic!

Mary: Stop!

James: We all know you have no choice. You’re a prisoner.

Mary: Please…

James: [indecipherable], Mary, there’s hope in the distance!

Mary: What are you suggesting?

James: Just because you… lie with the Dutch Dog doesn’t mean you need to get its flees.

Mary: He’s my husband!

James: *laughs* William isn’t long for this world.

Mary: What are you planning?

James: Oh, come now!

Mary: What are you plann– ah! Ah!

James: *laughs* You look like him. Can’t even walk without wheezing, spits blood; your time in the tower is almost over, Mary.

Mary: He is the father of my child. William, could you come here, please?

James: *scoffs* Is he the father? Last I heard, he couldn’t perform.

Mary: You’re one to talk!

James: My performance isn’t to be questioned!

Mary: I know the rumors of the queen’s great belly!

James: [indecipherable] rumors: just a few!

Mary: Nineteen out of twenty! That’s what– ah! Ah!

James: Make the child Catholic!

Mary: *spits*

James: Your mother–

Mary: She’s not my mother!

James: No, your real mother! Remember the day she died?

Mary: Please, Father, I’m in pain! I don’t want–

James: The day she died the priest came to administer her last rites, to cleanse her soul. Without it, your mother would be damned for all eternity! Her skin would scorch, blisters would form– weeping blisters!

Mary: *voice breaking* …William?

James: A priest came… and she refused him.

Mary: William! …That’s a lie!

James: After my counseling she refused the Protestant priest. The Catholic bishop was called in and all was confessed. So, in your philosophy, Mary, is it your mother or your child who’s damned to unfathomable pain and suffering? Which is the one true faith? If you baptize that child Protestant, it means you believe it’s your mother suffering, right now as we speak. Have you ever considered hellfire, Mary? *laughs* It’s something to think about. Oh! Your new mummy’s in labour now. Got to run.

Anne: Mary– and William *scoffs*– the queen’s had a baby. It’s a boy. They’ve baptized him Catholic *spits* toldja so. But there’s something else. I have some gossip! All of London– they think it’s a changeling! They think it’s not a real child. They think she snuck a child into her bed to pass off as our brother! Oh! Papa’s going mad. Something’s going to happen. Something bad.

William: May I see it?

Betty: There’s nothing to see. ...You should go to her, William.

*dramatic music / exert from “2020” by SUUNS*

♪ And what you see is really what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ Do what you please, the thing what you see ♪ ♪ What you, what you, what you, what you ♪ ♪ And what you see you feel ♪ ♪ Coming real, take your way ♪ ♪ All through the way… ♪

~ Intermission ~

*guitar strumming*

Chorus: ♪ Good fortune [indecipherable] William and Mary [indecipherable]-tend ♪ ♪ May glories increase and their lives never end ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] daily successes our nation may find ♪ ♪ For England [indecipherable] they both are designed ♪

Mary: William?

William: Huh?

Mary: Why is there a Greek chorus?

William: [indecipherable] chorus now.

Mary: Yes, why?

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commands and we will obey ♪ ♪ Over the hills and far away ♪

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! What story with a Greek chorus ends well?!

William: It’s just a device, Mary, it doesn’t mean–

Mary: The letter! They’re here because of the letter!

William: We received a letter?

Mary: From England. They call themselves–

Chorus: ♪ THE IMMORTAL SEVEN! ♪

Mary and William: The Immortal Seven.

Mary: Parliament has invited us to England.

William: They’ve invited us to invade England.

Mary: Why would they do that?

William: I don’t know.

Mary: We can’t invade!

Chorus: ♪ Invade you must, there’s no time to waste ♪ ♪ James is a monster! Our country defaced ♪ ♪ Blood in the streets and corpses in trees ♪ ♪ Come and put our minds at ease ♪

William: Your father is in talks to invade with Louis. Where? Here! He’s–he’s had his boy and he’s baptized him Catholic and all of England is on the brink of Civil War again!

Mary: What does that have to do with us?

William: Um, well… They want us to depose your father.

Mary: It has to be us?

William: I don’t see another alternative.

Mary: Shoot, shoot, shoot! Is it right?

William: Right? We–we save England, we save the Netherlands, we keep Europe in balance– yes.

Mary: But is it right for a daughter to depose her father? It’s the Fifth Commandment, right? “Honor thy father!”

William: He doesn’t need to die.

Mary: Well, I know my history, William! You only depose a king by killing him. How many former kings do you see walking around?! But… He can’t invade Holland! It’s your country and you care so much for it and the people and it’s so very, very clean– Okay, yes! We should do this. But we have to do it a different way. No blood. No killing. If it’s an invasion, it has to be a bloodless invasion!

William: I don’t know…

Mary: Can you try?

William: Invade one of the most powerful countries in the world, other-throw its king, and not hurt anyone in the process?

Mary: Please?

William: …Ja.

Chorus: *gasps* ♪ What’s that you say? ♪ ♪ We prick up our ears ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] you come ♪ ♪ To end all our fears ♪ ♪ Think of what you both could be ♪ ♪ You’ll go down in history! ♪

Mary: We could, couldn’t we! Imagine all that “First Citizen” stuff here in the Netherlands– we could do that in England! You could bring all of your wonderful ideas to my country! Imagine: Freedom of religion!

William: Freedom of the press!

Mary: And no more torturing! Or bloody pomp and circumstance! And we do it bloodless! We ride into England and the people will rise with us and father will say “Oh wow, that’s what the people want!” And it’ll all work out [indecipherable] Why shouldn’t we be king and queen?! Neither one of us want the damn job so we’re the ones who should have it…

William: Would I be king?

Mary: Yes.

William: Who would you be?

Mary: The queen.

William: Right, but who’s the one in charge?

Mary: …Oh.

William: It would be you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Oh, me? No. 

Chorus: *murmuring in agreement*

Mary: No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! I’d rather not.

William: It’s not up to you, you’re first in line.

Mary: Ah, but you! You–you are after me!

William: Right, but you still come first.

Mary: But I don’t want to be queen– okay, wait, wait! Let me think… Okay, solution. ….We’ll… both be king and queen!

William: It does not work that way.

Mary: [spluttering] Listen! We go to England; you raise an army and depose– aw– depose father and then we say “Alright! We’re both king and queen!” What’re they gonna do, say no?

William: Joint monarchs– it would be a first.

Mary: [indecipherable] I don’t know if it’s right. God says to honor thy father, but… that doesn’t feel right.

William: We can say no, Mary.

Mary: No… You okay?

Anne: Yes, quite, sister.

Mary: Okay, good.

Anne: Stop staring at me!

Mary: Let’s keep going. And my heart says to bother you.

William: Your heart says that? What do we want to do?

Chorus: ♪ To England, to England! We sail, we sail! To England, to England! At last, at last! A tempest, a tempest! Begins, begins! And [indecipherable], and [indecipherable]! [indecipherable], [indecipherable]! ♪

Soloist: ♪ To England, we sail / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] / [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ The men are afraid ♪ ♪ There’s no debate ♪ ♪ Revolution now must wait ♪

*storm sounds*

Mary: Ahh!

William: THEY’RE CALLING IT THE CATHOLIC WIND! WE CANNOT SAIL FOR ENGLAND UNTIL IT PASSES! WE’VE ALREADY LOST A THOUSAND HORSES! WE HAVE FORTY THOUSAND MEN WAITING TO INVADE– BUT THIS WIND!!

Mary: There have been so many omens! This wind; the miscarriage! Is it a sign from God?! Can a daughter who deposes her father be a Christian?! Can doing what’s right and God’s will be at odds?!

William: WHAT?!

Mary: CAN DOING WHAT’S RIGHT AND GOD’S WILL BE AT ODDS?!

William: Oh, it is over.

Chorus: ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ William and Mary, our God has ordained ♪ ♪ Rex and Regina, this we say ♪ ♪ Sail on the future king’s birthday ♪

Mary: Wait, really?

William: Ja. It’s my birthday. The fourth. Historically, that’s just how it happened to work out.

Mary: Oh! Well, that’s a good omen, right? Happy birthday to you!

William: Yes.

Mary: William, wait! Look… I respect you. And, under normal circumstances, I would never breach this, um, unspoken agreement, but, um, it’s his birthday– ah, could we– um, uh– you know– could we do just one round of “Happy Birthday”? Um, what’s a good starting note? *hums* Is that good? *hums* Ready?

Mary, chorus, and audience: ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to you! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday dear William! ♪ ♪ Happy birthday to your! ♪

*cheering*

William: This is the greatest birthday present I’ve ever received. Thank you.

Chorus: ♪ William has come and we will defend ♪ ♪ To kick out the tyrant and and then will ascend ♪ ♪ His first steps on English soil ♪ ♪ Defender of faith and [indecipherable] ♪

William: Hello? Where the hell is everyone?

Peasant: *screams* Oh, it’s [indecipherable] Day. Everyone’s busy catching cats.

William: Ah. Well, um, I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith and– wait, why are you catching cats?

Peasant: To [indecipherable] the pope.

William: Ah. Well, I am William of Orange, Defende– the pope?

Peasant: *sighs* Not the real one sadly, but yeah. [indecipherable] cats and set them on fire.

William: Why you do this?

Peasant: For God! It’s tradition! …You’re not from around here are ya, foreigner!

Chorus: ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolu– ♪

Peasant: [indecipherable] you are making such a racket!

William: I am William of Orange, Defender of the Faith!

*cat screeches*

Peasant: [indecipherable] you scared the cat!

William: Good woman, have you not heard of our coming?

Peasant: …[indecipherable] in England?

William: I–

Peasant: [indecipherable] and whip em til their backs be bloody!! Ngyeehhhhhhhhh!!

William: *screams* I AM WILLIAM OF ORANGE! I COME FROM THE HAGUE BY INVITATION OF PARLIAMENT! Good lady! We come to overthrow King James II.

Peasant: *spits*

William: Progress. I am the [indecipherable]’s husband and myself, third in line. We come to bring stability and religious… freedom to this… country.

Peasant: Oh, you and what army?

Chorus: ♪ We are [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ Join is so you [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ James will soon be overthrown ♪

Peasant: Oh, [indecipherable], sir! I don’t have anything of worth but… I’d be proud to give you my cats.

William: *coughs*

Peasant: Oh, must be the cat smoke.

William: Oh, this air is filthy. I need a little rest.

Messenger: ♪ One man tried to poison your food ♪

Anne: ♪ Some with bullets [indecipherable] ♪

Chorus: ♪ Mostly [indecipherable] ready to fight ♪

Charles: ♪ [indecipherable] horse was white! ♪

William: Let us move forward!

James: William! What the hell do you think you’re doing?!

Chorus: ♪ James was appalled by the sight that he saw ♪

James: ♪ I’ll have your head, boy, remember [indecipherable]! ♪

Chorus: ♪ Soon his generals started to fall ♪

James: ♪ Troops, make an example of him! ♪

Chorus: ♪ James’ troops then began to abandon ♪ ♪ Our glorious William now [indecipherable] ♪

James: Did you not all swear your loyalty?! You are all my subjects! *gaps* Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You must swear your loyalty to your father! It is God’s will! The Fifth Commandment! Consider the hell– *splutters* What the hell? Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ Blood from his nose ♪ ♪ [indecipherable] to God ♪ ♪ James was denied ♪ ♪ His royal throne ♪

James: No! No! What the hell?! *spluttering* The Fifth Commandment– shit! This is terribly inconvenient

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To James [indecipherable] ♪ ♪ His nose really bled ♪

James: WAIT, WHAT?!!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ To France, King James ♪ ♪ Finally fleeeeeeeeeeee– ♪

James: STOP SINGING!

Anne, Messenger, and Monmouth: ♪ –eeeeeeeedddddd ♪

James: What, is this really historically accurate?! You’re just gonna let me go, William?! HA! Coward! I will return, William, I promise you that! Mary! Ungrateful daughter! You will suffer the fait of an unfaithful daughter. This is not how my story was… suppose to be told… To France.

Chorus: ♪ William has won now that James has fled ♪

William: *prolonged violent coughing*

Chorus: ♪ London is happy! ♪ ♪ With bonfires lit ♪ ♪ Willy’s lungs can’t take the smoke ♪ ♪ And all the fog just made him choke ♪ ♪ Over the hills and it must be done ♪ ♪ To England, Glorious Revolution! ♪ ♪ William commanded and now we’ve won ♪ ♪ Our new day begins with the rising of the sun! ♪ ♪ Of the sun! ♪

William: *groaning, gasping for breath*

[modern-vellichor]

Just Like Her Mother

Chapter Four

Summary: Your mother comes home, and things go sour. Warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, cigarettes/smoking, explicit language. 

Charles picked up the phone, leaning against the wall.

"Charles Blackwood speaking, who am I speaking to?" He said down the receiver, already annoyed at the late caller.

"Charles?" A voice echoed down the line. "Its Marjorie"

It's your mother. Charles heard your voice echo in a nearby room, and then heard your voice in the phone.

"Mum? Hey, what's wrong? Did something happen?"

Your mother chuckled.

"no, no. I'm calling from the airport. I'm about to catch a car to the house. I'm coming home"

Charles hung up his phone and left you and your mother to talk. You came out of your office not long after with a faint smile on your face.

"She's coming home," you half whispered to Charles. Charles pursed his lips in a painful looking smile and nodded slowly.

With that you retired to bed, and Charles was left to ponder.

As Charles began to climb the stairs he could hear the panicked whispers of you and Theo. He silenced his steps and creeped closer to the rushed conversation. He pressed his ear to the door of Theo's bedroom and listened intently.

"What do you think she did? Do you think she's hurt, or broke?" Theo rambled hurriedly, it was clear that your mother's sudden arrival home had started, or even frightened, the both of you.

"I don’t know. Its been months since I've seen her. What do you think she wants? Does she even remember Charles?"

"What if she breaks it off with him, after all, they're not married"

Charles's jaw dropped, and he heard you gasp. You voice cracked when you spoke next.

"I like Charles," you said slowly. Your lip quivered, but the sound of tires screeching on gravel and the sharp shriek of a car horn left you no time to wallow.

Baby James startled awake at the loud honk. Charles scrambled away from the door as the handle turned. You sent Theo to fetch his parents, not seeing Charles standing down the hallway. And as you rushed to souse the crying child, you ran into his chest.

"oh, Charles," you mumbled and continued down the hallways.

You seemed absent, there was something missing as you took the baby in your arms and soothed his cries. You held him close to your chest as Charles followed you down the stairs. You mother was already barging into the house and guffawing loudly.

You hugged her absentmindedly. Your mother insisted on everyone having a drink. You used James, who was asleep on your chest, as an excuse to get out of the awkward affair. Charles slipped out soon after.

You met him in the hallway with open arms. His arm wrapped around you as you rest your head on his chest.

"why do you think she's here?" Charles mumbled into your hair.

"I don't know," you were silent for a moment. "I'm sorry"

"Why?"

"Just in case," you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips before running off to your bedroom.

You walked down the stairs. You met your family at the open front door. Charles hid at the back of the group. You watched your mother exit the car, empty handed. It only deepened your suspicions. Your mother pressed an unwelcome kiss to your cheek. She pushed her way through the group to Charles. She gazed up at him lovingly. He looked uncomfortable. 

“Well,” she smiled. Her voice was sickeningly sweet< her perfume made your eyes water and your nose burn. “Don’t let me keep you up.”

The others made their way up the stairs. Theo took James from you. You and Charles stood next to each other, staring at your mother.

“Why don’t we talk in that little office of yours, hmm, darling?” You mother stated, in that honey sweet voice that ripped into you.

“It’s dads,” you mumbled.

“Was, honey,” she said through gritted teeth. 

She lead the way to the little office. You and Charles sat next to each other, knees touching, opposite your sneering mother. She poured everyone a drink, you sipped eagerly.

“So you two have grown quite close?”

“Well we live together, so,” you stated bluntly. You were being short with your  mother. You acted the same as you did towards Charles when he first moved in.

“That’s nice. I suppose you two are almost friends.”

You scoffed. Charles sipped his drink in silence. 

“I really enjoyed my stay in Greece, you two would have enjoyed it tremendously.”

Your mother sighed dramatically when neither of you answered her. You didn’t even look at her, you couldn’t.

“I’m moving to Greece. I’m not coming home again!” She blurted out. Both you and Charles glared at her.

“And i don’t want any of your filthy money either,” she spat. “You can keep all that blood money for yourself.”

You lit a cigarette and it hung loosely from your lips. You suddenly looked years older, stressed and angry.

“They don’t smoke those stupid things in Greece,” your  mother mumbled.

“I don’t care what they do in Goddamned Greece!” You shouted, standing up from your chair and advancing on your mother with a sinister grin.

“Okay, Marjorie,” You sneered. “You go to Greece. I’m the only tie you have the this family. We would have cut you off sooner, but now is better than never.”

Your mother looked terrified. Charles felt pride swell in his chest as he watched you tear into the witch.

“You run off to Greece, but you’re not a part of this family, whether you stay or go it won’t matter.”

Your mother made a defeated sound. Something like a whimper.

“Get out,” you whispered. And she did, she ran from the house with her pointed tail between her legs.

You settled yourself back down, picking up the phone. As you were dialing, you turned to Charles.

“Go to bed, this will take a while. I’ll be up later.”

Charles left you to your own devices. You didn’t tell him what you had been doing when you crawled into his bed that night. As the week went by, you had meetings with Theo and your uncle, none of which Charles was allowed to attend.

By Friday, Charles was utterly bored and slightly annoyed. The doorbell ramg three times before Charles finally got up and answered it.

“Can I help you?” He asked the elderly woman at the door.

She pushed past him and barged into the house.

“Get out of my way, boy. Where is the head of the house?”

Just as Charles was about to loose it, you came running up to the woman and embraced her.

“Hello, Maria!” You exclaimed happily. “You’re the first one here. You remember Hilda, yeah?”

The woman nodded, the frown easing off her face.

“Hilda will take you to your room, go on”

The two woman disappeared up the stairs. You turned to Charles.

“That’s great aunt Maria.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“That’s a surprise.”

As the day went on, more and more people arrived and the large house began to fill up. The house seemed small. It was busier than Charles had ever seen it. Everyone who stepped over the threshold seemed at home. You looked happier than Charles had ever seen. You greeted every familiar face with a wide smile. You introduced Charles to relative after relative. For the first time in forever, Charles felt like he was part of a family. By dinner time, the house was bursting at the seams. 

You led Charles away from your family and weaved through halls that seemed new to Charles. You stopped in front of a set of doors that he had never seen before. You pulled a key out of your pocket. As you pushed open the doors, a large cloud of dust kicked up.

You took Charles by the hand and dragged him into the room. It was huge, and open, and covered in dust. You pulled open curtains and warm, fading sunlight spilled in and painted the room gold. Charles stood in awe. You lit the lights and stood in front of Charles, arms held wide out and proud. 

“We haven’t used this ballroom since I was little,” you softly, but your eyes glimmered and brimmed with hope. 

“Help me with these tables.”

Together the two of you pulled sheets off of tables and set them up either side of the great golden hall. You sent Charles to fetch your family while you dusted and ran around with the staff. Soon the hall was full of life. You sat next to Charles, the two of you shouting and laughing with your family. Even though Charles didn’t quite know what was happening, he enjoyed himself.

You stood up, champagne flute in hand, held up to the heavens. The din was no more as you opened your mouth to speak.

“I’m so glad you all could make it. This family has always been one for impromptu reunions.”

An older man stood up and cut you off. You slid back down into your seat. 

“My grandfather, head of the family,” you whispered to Charles.

“Excuse my granddaughter, she’s always been very modest.”

You smiled, staring down at your lap. Charles took your hand and gave a reassuring squeeze.

“We are actually here to celebrate the newest heir to our family, which just so happens to be her beautiful self.”

If this news had broke to Charles when he first arrived, he would have married you as quick as possible. And he would have highly considered killing you too. But now, he gazed at you lovingly and raised his glass to the most unlikely relationship he had ever witnessed.

The hall lit up in  a chorus of cheers. The house was alive until the early hours of the morning when everyone retired to bed or passed out on the nearest flat surface. 

You had sat in the armchair looking over Charles’ bed. You watched him sleep, in a loving way. You wondered how you would break the news, pop the question. You listened to him breathe and ran over various scenarios in your head. It could only go two ways: he either said yes or no. He already lived here, so he either stayed or left. You had been so lost that you didn’t notice Charles waking up and gazing at you with a dumbstruck smile.

When you did notice, you couldn’t help yourself. “Move in with me?” You blurted, regretting it almost instantly.

“Darling,” he mumbled. “I’m already here.”

[soliverse]

baby don’t like it - q.kn

pairing: royal au duke!kun x princess!reader ft my best girl, Irene of Red Velvet

genre: angst, much muuuch stronger than the last one

warnings: mentions of violence, cheating, cussing, alcohol consumption (again, nothing too explicit, just giving you a bit of a heads up.

word count: 3171

Prompts:

“Keep the change, ya filthy animal.” - Home Alone (weird choice, I know)

“Baby, whether rain or shine, naughty or nice. I'm by your side.” - Ariana Grande (Not Just On Christmas)

ps: did I just write another angst for another Christmas special?

Yes. Yes, I did.

Baby Don’t Like It is a part of my Walking in a Winter Wonderland Collab with @suh-insane​ and @neocitybynight​. Once again, this is one of my first collabs and I am thankful for the approachable anons that let me join this event.

You can check the Walking In A Winter Wonderland event and the works of my fellow NCT writers over here!

networks: @nctcreations​ @kdiarynet @kpopscape

Men.

You’ve always hated them.

You’ve hated how your father treated your mother. You’ve hated how you’re treated all your life just because you’re not born as a man. You've always hated how they controlled every single decision in your life. You've hated how you're forced to marry someone you don't love for "the sake of our people".

But out of all the men that you hated; it was the one right in front of you.

As your assistants helped you get dressed, your husband was just sitting there on his phone, looking all nice and fine and smiling from ear to ear. He looked divine, suit garbed in black and red, making him look almost ethereal. Strands of his dark hair falls into his forehead, framing his perfect face even more. At the same time, he decided to wear his circular glasses, something that he did if he didn’t want to use his contact lenses.

Overall, his outfit made him look like one of those princes from those fairytale books that you had as a kid.

You can't help but roll your eyes, but you can't say whether it's from your assistants eyeing Kun or that he just HAD to be there to see you get dressed. After hours of getting ready, they placed a heavy tiara on your head as a finishing touch.

You stood up from your seat and twirled, making sure that everything looked perfect. You walked towards Kun and did a little wave to get his attention away from his phone. It didn’t work, so you walked closer to the couch and tapped his leg. This time, he shot up a look in your direction, still smiling.

“Oh hey. You good to go?”

You nodded as an answer. The two of you then made your way into your car, him being the driver. The car ride was eerily quiet. None can be heard except for other vehicles passing by and funky Christmas songs blasting from people outside. Well, there isn’t that much to talk about. You’ve spent every hour with each other that you feel like there’s more to share.

This is probably the reason why he suggested the event in the first place. Social events aren't really your thing, but at least it’s better than to stay at home and celebrate Christmas in silence. Or worse, spend it at your parents' mansion.

“Hey baby, cheer up a little.”

He was the first one to break the silence.

“Thank you for coming with me to the event. It means a lot to me.”

His voice was soft, just like it had always been whenever he’s talking to you. He moves closer from the other side of the and took your hand, squeezing it tightly. You never said anything. You just smiled at him in return, not really knowing what to say. It stayed that way until you reached the venue.

It was already a bit late at night and the whole city glistened from the twinkling lights that adorned it. The snow slowly falling down made your entrance to the party even more magical.

The car door has opened and cameras started flashing left and right. Dozens of paparazzi surrounded the area while the guards tried their best to keep them out. Kun made a point to wave to everyone, a move that everyone loved. You tried to force a smile as he wrapped his arms around your hips, feeling the silky fabric of the dress that you’re wearing.

Everyone greeted him, of course. His cheery self was acknowledged by everyone around him. Meanwhile, you just politely bowed at everyone else, forcing an awkward smile whenever someone tried to make interactions. They were probably bummed up that YOU had to go with, though. After all, Kun was the life of the party. The darling of the crowd. The Diana to your Charles.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome our honorable guests for tonight. The main benefactor of Little Angels’ Children Hospital and the people behind this lovely event, Duke Kun and Her Highness Princess Y/N of the Northernshore.”

The crowd applauded as you made your way into the grand halls and took your place in the seat designated for the both you. It was a table that was isolated from everyone else, so the two of you are just stuck together. Sitting there was uncomfortable to say the least. You knew he wanted to mingle with people, but being the introvert that you are, he can’t leave you alone.

The program proceeded as usual. The children from the hospital sang some carols which touched everyone’s hearts. One of the cute little girls gave you a small figurine that she made. You gave her a warm hug before letting her join the other children on the stage. Kun, on the other hand, was trying his best to focus on the gala.

“Is something wrong?”

“No. Not at all.” He chuckled awkwardly, sneaking peeking on his phone from time to time. You didn’t pay him that much attention and shifted your focus back to the kids. The host announced that dinner will be served soon and the program will resume right after. You felt the need to go to the bathroom and so you tugged on his jacket to get his attention. Some Christmas carol was playing overhead and so he leaned down to hear what you had to say.

“Excuse me for a second. I need to powder my nose.”

You shyly whispered in his ear. He again flashes a sweet smile before nodding. Other people are so standing up from their seats, taking this opportunity to mingle with other people while dinner is being prepared. The guards offered to go with you but you declined and insisted that they stayed with Kun. From far away, you can see a bunch of people enthusiastically going to his direction. You just sighed as you walked across the crowd of people with your head down.

As you’ve finally reached the bathroom, the first thing you did was lock the stall and breathe. You rested your head at the door for a few seconds before finally doing your business. You’ve heard some people entered the bathroom. Your ears perked up to listen at their conversation. To your relief, none of them talked about you. They didn’t take long inside, probably just touched up, and left the bathroom.

Making sure that no one is inside, you opened the door and proceeded to look at yourself in the mirror. You weren’t that bad. Your red silky dress complimented your body and skin well. There are strands of your hair cascading from your messy bun, but that just added to your look. You look fine. It’s just that in everything that you say and do, everything pales in comparison to your husband. Opening the sink, you washed your hands and tried to snap out of Grinch mode. After all, it’s almost Christmas. You should be having fun.

///

After leaving the bathroom, this time with a much jollier attitude, you saw Kun sitting in the same table. This time, he was with a woman. A woman that you knew pretty well.

Minji used to be your bestfriend during highschool. She was the only one kind enough to talk to you and actually get to know you as a person. Unfortunately, things changed just as soon as you reached college. Kun was a junior at that time and he became the guide that toured the freshmen throughout the university. Minji has been whipped ever since and Kun returned the favor.

Her family aren’t a part of the royals, which meant they can’t be together. A fact that had always pained you whenever you think about it. A part of you still felt guilty upon breaking the former couple apart. You never had the guts to faced Minji and so you made your way towards the open bar. Maybe some drinks will help you clear your head.

Trying to hide from other people and the guards, you picked a seat just right at the farthest corner of the open bar. You sat at one of the counters and ordered whatever drink that can get you drunk the fastest. You downed the drink fast, not even minding the harsh taste that it leaves as soon as it hits your tastebuds.

A voice suddenly interrupted your drinking session. You tried to hide your face to avoid being recognized, but the woman still sat down right next to you.

“A princess shouldn’t be drinking like that.”

“Excuse me?”

You finally turned around, casually flashing a playful smile at you. Your eyes grew wider at the sudden realization of who she is.

“Irene! It’s been ages!”

You almost spilled your drink to the floor as you stood up to hug one of your old college pals.

“It’s been forever, and yet you still act like a royal novice.”

The lass never changed. She was still her snobby self, a trait that you used to hate before you came to realize that that’s just her quirk.

The two of you are almost squealing before finally letting go of each other. You sat back down excitedly before pouring yourself another drink.

“Okay. Why are you here?”

“Remember Suho? The doctor? Well, he’s thinking doing business with the hospital. He’s making it some sort of an extension.”

"I still couldn’t believe that you got married." You said while chuckling. The old Irene had always had this intimidating aura to her that no boy ever dared to talk to her. It’s something that the two of you had in common.

"I could say the same about you."

Irene snickered as she motioned the bartender to bring more drinks for the two of you.  She casually grabbed her wine glass, being the classy lady that she is, and took a bit of a sip at her sparkling champagne, eyeing you shadily like there’s something she’s trying to tell you.

“I see that your husband is having fun without you.”

You just sighed as a response.

“Royals are for royals, Y/N. Minji isn’t born with a title.That is not your fault. Keep your head high for fuck’s sake. You’re THE Princess.”

You raised an eyebrow at her, preparing to talk her down to filth. However, her phone lit up from a phone call that she's receiving.

"I'm gonna have to leave you for a sec. It's Suhyun's babysitter."

She gave an apologetic smile before grabbing her purse from the counter and finishing the last of her drink.

"I’ll be back in a moment.”

She tossed a wink at your direction before you’re left alone in the bar once again. You started drinking once again when you felt a tap on your shoulder. Thinking it was Irene, you turned around and was about to talk smack to her. Instead, it was your husband. He grabbed you by your wrist and took you to an empty storage room nearby.

“The guards have been looking for you everywhere.”

His voice was low, but you can tell that he’s incredibly pissed.

"I just needed a drink to lighten myself up. Figured you need some time to hang out with your colleagues without your boring wife tagging along."

“You’re glad that I found you first. What would the media say if they saw the princess drinking like she’s in a college frat party?”

You just rolled your eyes at him and tried to free your hand from his tightening grip.

“I want to go home.”

“You are not going home in the middle of the event!”

You scoffed.

“Yes, I can. I’m the Princess. Just tell them I feel sick or something.”

You finally managed to escape his grasp and you walked out of the storage room by yourself and walked back into the. Sure enough, you used your acting lessons to feign an illness. The guards took charge immediately and escorted you back to the car. It caused a bit of a scene, so it didn’t take long before Irene found you. She whispered something in your ear and you just nodded.

“Change of plans boys. I’m going to we’re going to the hospital.”

///

"Wakey-wakey…”

Kun felt a sudden surge of pain running through his body. His vision was blurry, pupil still adjusting to the light blaring through his face. Despite this, he can definitely see one thing. It was a silhouette of a woman.

"Ugh… Who are you?"

Moans and groans escaped his busted lips, the taste of metal fills his mouth. Not only was his mouth filled with his own blood, he was struggling to talk because of the dryness in his throat. He tried to move but his body felt sore. His arms and feet were tied up to this chair, making it impossible for him to get up.

The last thing that he remembered is that he is on a car ride somewhere, until his own guards pointed their guns at him.

The woman just laughed as a response. She walked towards him, dragging something heavy behind her. The screeching sound coming from the friction of the floor and metal stings in his ear.

Suddenly, he felt a hand run up to his shoulder into his neck making all of the hair in his body stand up. He had never felt more scared in his life. He felt her face lean over and whispered something to his ear.

"You know very well who I am Kun."

"Irene…"

The woman laughed once again. It sounded darker and more maniacal than earlier.

"I'm glad you remembered you my name after all these years. However, I'm afraid I’d have to cut this reunion short."

Just as she stood up, another silhouette appeared from the dark. The tapping of the back of her heels filled echoed across the hospital room, completely stealing your attention from Irene.

This time, he's certain about who it is.

"When you said that you'll make my problems disappear, this isn't what I had in mind."

You took the coat off of your body, letting in fall to the floor. He was about to beg you to release him, but he noticed something.

You had that dangerous look in you. Your blank cold stare even scarier than Irene's. The typical shy demeanor was dropped and instead replaced by those of predator. Someone that wants to eat him alive and make him disappear in the face of the Earth.

"I had a little fun with him already, if you don't mind.”

Irene walked towards your direction, smiling from ear to ear seeing her old friend back like this.

“I’m afraid I have to leave you here darling. Suhyun and her father is probably looking for mommy right now. Call me when you need me.” She gave you a delicate peck on your cheek before walking away from the room.

Now, the two of you are left alone. Silence once again peeks in as the two of you just stared at each other. Even up until now, that never changed.

This time, you’re the first one to speak up.

“You’re probably wondering why you’re in this situation.”

You took one of the seats and dragged it just a few meters in front of him. You sat down, leaned back while your arms and legs are crossed.

“I know about the affair between you and Minji.”

“Baby, please. It’s nothing...”

He used his sweet voice again, but to you it sounded more like teeth-rotting sugar. That sickly sweet taste that made you want to gag.

“Oh, stop the bullshit. I know about ALL of the affairs.”

You finally stood up from your seat and held your right hand up in the air.

“Let’s see. There’s Rosie, Jessica, Heather…” You spouted more names, taking down a finger every time you mentioned one. Kun is now looking even more uncomfortable. This time, it was his turn to look down, hiding the guilt-ridden expression of his face. Your finger touched his chin, tipping his face up in your direction.

“Wanna know how I knew?”

You poked your tongue in your cheeks and rolled your eyes before giving him one hard slap on his cheek.

“It’s because of those damn glasses! I can see every lewd picture that they send you, asshole!”

You look down at his direction and you saw tears running down from his face. He was trying his best not to sob because his own mouth betrayed him.

“What, baby? you don’t like being slapped in the face? Isn’t that what you wanted Minji to do to you whenever you’re fucking at the manor when I’m at business trips?”

The last sentence made you choke on your words. The combination of seeing Kun crying and the recollection of memories made you a bit soft. Your legs shook, making you kneel down on the ground and sob like a little girl when someone had taken her toys away from her.

“Why did it have to be Minji?”

“I-I’m sorry Y/N. Please… Let me fix this.”

You wiped you tears away just as you dropped this bombshell.

“Why did it have to be her? My first love?”

Picking yourself from the floor, you went back to where your discarded coat is. You wiped your tears out with the sleeves of the coat while you rummaged through its pockets.

“I can’t stand it. Even when you married me, she ‘s still stupidly in love with you.”

“W-wait… What do you mean?”

“Minji used to be my pretty little angel. You just had to turn her into your slutty mistress, don’t you?”

You felt something hard on your right pocket. It was the gun that Irene left you earlier at the party. Right beside it was your phone, blowing up with notifications of people greeting you a Merry Christmas as the clock just turned 12:00 a few minutes ago.

“It’s a sad thing that this will be our last Christmas together.”

You said once again, finally calmed down from the tears that you have just shed a few moments ago. Kun was now shouting at his seat, finally aware of what you’re about to do.

“You are not gonna get away with this!”

“Oh. But I will…”

You smirked at him once again.

“If I killed you right now, Irene and his men would take care of your body and discard it without anyone noticing. They do it all the time. If people suspect that I did something to you, I can just say that I went to the hospital to get treated. They have logs and cameras over here to back up my claims.”

You cocked the gun in your hands and started pointing it to his temples.

“..And as for you baby, text records show that you’re about to run away with Minji tonight. All of your other secrets will be exposed and people will finally see what you really are…”

You took a deep breathe before mustering up the courage to pull the trigger.

“Merry Christmas baby. I’m sure they’d appreciate charity events in hell.”

[soramel]

Chained to You (Part 4)

genre: angst, romance, unconventional relationship warning: eventual smut A/N: cross-posted; the story continues at Part 18 in wattpad;

1 2 3 4

Part 4 words: 2,595

Drumming your fingers on the steering wheel, you unconsciously bit your lip as you tried to sort your thoughts out. You even closed your eyes... forehead scrunched in confusion as your failed attempt to detach yourself from all the happenings irritated you more.

So what if he has a woman?

It shouldn't be surprising at all because he's accomplished, has a good family background, and for sure, the looks that everyone would kill for.

Did I just admit that he's attractive?

You scoffed at the thought. Those sleepless nights you spent on analyzing worksheets after worksheets finally altered how your brain functions.

Your phone rang, pulling you out of your reverie. Its noise cutting through the deafening silence in your parked SUV. Then a knock came through the window, startling you. "Fuck!" you said out loud, clutching your chest.

It was your bodyguard. "Saeho!" you shouted at him sounding annoyed but it only muffled through the car door.

Taking a quick glance at your phone, you saw it was the devil you were just thinking about seconds ago. Instead of taking the call, you chose to open the window instead and talk to Saeho.

"What?" you snapped at him, also wondering how he found you so fast.

"You need to head back inside, Ma'am," he said in a stern voice, not liking the disappearing act you pulled.

You sighed and said, "I know. Just give me a break."

He watched you lean your head back on the headrest as you try to recollect yourself. The ringing of the phone just ended when it rang again with the same caller id. With a drag, you handed out the device to Saeho, but he just looked at it.

With another nudge of the phone in the air, he took it slowly from your hand.

"Sir," he answered as he put it by his ear.

There was a pause before Taehyung spoke up.

"Where is she?" he asked, his voice laced with darkness that even made a big man like Saeho gulp.

"She's safe, sir. We're in the basement parking. She's inside her car. She gave me her phone for me to answer," he explained.

"Get her back here. Now."

Then you heard the line cut off.

Saeho handed back the phone to you and pleaded for you to follow his boss' order. "Ma'am, this way, please," his voice having a more hint of emotion now as he snuck in his arm through the window to unlock your door.

With a huff, you alighted from the vehicle and passed him your purse.

Saeho followed your steps, taking an enough distance from you like he always does. You suddenly stopped from your tracks and faced him again.

"I can't really go back there this soon. I'm still annoyed," you wondered out loud, leaving the man in conflict. It really is indeed difficult to serve two masters at once. He didn't know what happened when he saw you rushing down the hall and it was not his place to ask why. But he was smart enough to deduce the reason behind your act.

He might not show it but he feels bad for you, but at the same time, he wants to keep his job. Taehyung pays him a handsome amount which sustains the needs of his wife and ailing child.

"We're in no hurry but we have to keep moving, Ma'am," he replied in compromise.

You turned around an walked towards the entrance at a much slower pace. He opened the door as you headed inside the elevator lobby and waited for a lift.

#

"She's tightly guarded, Sir. We can't find a window to execute the plan," the man spoke through the phone.

The news earned a sigh from the other line.

"Keep trying. It'll be more difficult to get to her once the ceremony's all over."

"Copy, sir," then the hired man ended the call.

Regardless, the receiver prepared himself for the worst, and that is having to do everything by himself.

"Useless bastards," he muttered under his breath.

It was two hours before midnight and they only had little time left to act on the situation. Once they miss this window of opportunity, they'd have to take matters to their own hands and it won't be a pretty sight.

There were still no progress from the team he sent. It was difficult to bypass the heiress' security. Although they blend well in the crowd, his men were trained enough to recognize the security team's tactic.

Namjoon wasn't the type to get his hands dirty. No matter what job that is.

J, negative

He then replied without hesitation,

Plan B

He threw the phone on the table with a thud after sending the text message.

#

When Jungkook received the order, he immediately left the hotel suite to pursue his target.

#

Saeho approached Taehyung cautiously and said, "Number unidentified, but I sent someone to follow through and extract information."

Taehyung's jaw tensed in response. "Why not grab one of them now?"

"We can't do that without grabbing much attention. Unless, that's fine with you, sir," Saeho replied. Taehyung's eyes were deeply set on you as you talk with your colleagues. He roamed his stare on their faces then to the people within your perimeter, then back to you. His eyes met yours.

Without breaking away from your gaze, he uttered, "I'll bring her back to her room. Keep me updated."

"Yes, sir."

Saeho then gave way to Taehyung as he strode the distance between you. From his cold demeanor, he flashed a warm smile to your colleagues, making them flustered.

You felt his hand slid around your waist. His hold was gentle yet firm.

"S-sir!" one of your colleagues managed to utter a greeting. Both men and women looked at your fiancé with admiration.

You casually introduced him to them. "This is Minho, Song, and Hyeji. My team in one of my projects. And you already know Jae."

Without further ado, Taehyung said, "Would you mind me taking my wife back? We need to head back early for tomorrow's wedding."

This made you take a step back but with his kind of hold, you were only able to put an unnoticeable distance from him. "Already?" you voiced out in protest.

"Sure!"

"Of course," your team replied in unison.

"You need to have a proper rest," Taehyung told you before flashing his swooning smile back to your colleagues.

"Thank you, excuse us."

You were still confused as he led you out of the banquet hall. You were stuck to his side until you could finally free yourself from his grip once you stepped in the lift.

"What's happening? Isn't it rude to just leave our own party? Like that?"

He's getting on your nerves and your annoyance is also starting to get the best of him. He thought the attitude was because he was 10 minutes late to your dinner.

Taehyung let out a sigh and faced you after pressing the floor button for your suite. "Charles will handle it. I just want you to get your rest."

Though that was just his excuse.

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, "If you were paying attention, I was still in the middle of a conversation with my team when you decided to have things your way. I didn't like that."

He tried his best to hide his sarcastic smile by looking down but you caught on. Your brow twitched in annoyance. His actions and the way he treats you makes you feel disrespected. No matter how much you want to cut ties with him, you need to know the tricks hidden up his sleeve.

Why would the news of merger suddenly brought harm to your family's life

Why the Kims, your supposed protector, are sweeping important facts under the rug

Why does your father trust them so much

Questions that you're sure would pile up as you try to uncover the truth. Despite that, you're determined to protect what's yours even though that means selling your soul to the devil.

You stared deep into his eyes.

"Fine. See you tomorrow at our wedding," you let out in a dismissive tone.

He sighed inwardly in relief as he watched the door slam right in front of him.

The room was dark as you entered. With a sigh, you blindly took off your accessories starting with the earrings.

You're getting married tomorrow and it's really happening. To an estranged childhood friend, a man you barely know, a lover of someone else. Red flags that were enough to stop someone from proceeding with the foolish ploy.

But this is for your family's sake.

The Kims are a possible threat you had to understand first.

On a flick of a light switch, you were startled to see a man standing in the middle of your suite. You almost squealed in shock but it got cut off when he approached you in a stride, stifling your voice.

Fear rose up in your chest and your imagination had gone haywire with the thought of why would be someone in here.

"Hush, I'm not here to harm you," he looked at you intently and you slowly start to associate a name on the man's face. It should have comforted you but it only added to your growing fear and confusion.

Jungkook?

He saw the recognition that flashed your eyes, then he continued in a much lower and hushed voice. "Promise me you won't scream, I just need to talk."

Your brows furrowed. What is Taehyung's friend doing in my room, surprising me like a murderer, in the middle of the night?

Just to know what the fuck is going on you nodded your head thrice, still breathing heavily, with your pulse racing.

Once his grip loosened, you immediately took a step back, holding your purse in front of you as if that was enough for a weapon to defend yourself.

"What are you do--" your loud and scandalous voice made him cover your mouth again. You didn't see how but he's now on your back, your body tightly pressed to his.

"Not so loud," his voice laced with irritation. It wanna made you scoff, you should be the one irritated in this situation, not him.

"Taehyung's not who you think he is," he murmured, hoping that will stop you from fighting him off.

You did your best to calm down to show him that you're ready to listen. Not that you don't know what he's talking about. You know who the true Taehyung is.

Jungkook loosened his hands on you once he thought he piqued your curiosity.

You turned to him, a little bit surprised at the very close distance he had put in between.

You looked up a bit to meet his eyes.

"I know who Taehyung is,"

You told him, full with pride.

He was about to speak when you cut him off, "So if you're here to warn me about his lover, you can leave. I've already decided," you told him and he seemed surprise at the news. It looked like that was not the thing he was pertaining about but you could care less.

This marriage is more than you and your feelings.

If being close to the threat will help save your family, then be it. If they're not and they're really trying to help, then better.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows in surprise, "You're truly whipped," he said in disbelief. Well that was not new to him. He knew Taehyung during his teenage years. He knew how he was or is with the ladies.

"I'm not. I-" you were about to spill some sensitive information but you luckily caught yourself.

No one else is supposed to know about this except you and your private investigator, Hoseok.

"Well that sucks but that was not just it, Princess," he informed, the title he used sounded like a mock.

"His family will use yours to get what they want. This might bring harm not only to your family, but to everyone."

#

Tilting your head to the side, "then this will be just another billion dollar venture for them," you stated after Jungkook told you what he could let you know... for now. He has yet to see for himself and the organization which side you're on. It was a huge gamble for them to involve you in this. If it were up to him, he would rather not involve a socialite like you. The type that Taehyung lures in and break. But to Namjoon, you were different.

He silently strode to the door and looked into the peephole to see if there are guards. "How did you get in here anyway?" you asked him, as you were sidetracked from his movement.

"The balcony," he stated as he walked back. "They'll eventually monopolize the IT industry. All the servers, engines, systems, running in this country will be under their control. Just masked in different names."

"We traced that 65% of the sector belonged to their family already. Indirectly,"

"and if this will go out of hand, there will be irreversible repercussions." he finished as he stood before you, meeting your gaze intently.

You walked around the living area of the hotel suite, settling on the couch. "I didn't know they had that slice too," you blurted out as you went in deep thought. The Kims are involved in a lot of ventures. May it be in security services and systems, management consultancy, logistics, and others. But so is your family. Well your mother's side to be specific. With it being more prominent in hospitality and airline industry.

You traced back your gaze to the intruder.

"Regardless, that's none of my business, Jungkook. The world is what it is." you told him.

And he knew.

A privileged woman like you won't understand it. Because the system fits well for you that you became a part of it.

His jaw almost twitched in disgust, but he managed to mask it off with a smirk. "Your family will be their puppet. You will bear the damages once things fall out of place,"

"Then I'll make sure it won't," you replied, looking at him straight in the eyes.

Taking a deep breath, you suggested, "I could pretend this didn't happen. I'll let you slip back where you came from without sending a distress call to my security next door." then you took out a black device out of your purse, lifting off its switch. Then you placed your thumb on top of it, ready to press it in any second.

He let out a chuckle. "You'll be lying dead on the floor before they arrive here, don't underestimate me."

You let out a sweet smile and shook your head. "I'm not. I know you're very capable of that seeing how you managed to get here," then you unceremoniously pressed the device which made made him jump to his feet and briskly left, leaving the glass door open. All the while making sure that you know how pissed he is and he's not yet done with you. If eyes could kill.

Saeho barged in right after a beep. "Ma'am," he let out. When you seemed fine, his eyes scanned the room immediately, looking for any threats.

With your gaze on the glass door, he jogged onto it seeing that it was ajar.

You stood up and headed into the bedroom. "Please close it. It's getting cold," you calmly ordered as you closed the bedroom door shut.

[willow-salix]

(Today's update for the fluffember prompt: whimsical, is brought to you by the amazing @myladykayo as the guest writer.)

Day 14 of isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

  

Knowing a second confinement period was going to happen doesn’t make it easier but at least we know a little more of what to expect this time. It’s not that bad, really. Things are not all that different for me, come to think of it. I still cook, clean, or try to have my grandsons act like responsible adults and do their part—and patch them up when they get injured.

Because apparently, just because they aren’t going out on rescues doesn’t mean they aren’t still injuring themselves, and believe me, they manage to do so in the most spectacular ways. Thank goodness John’s wife arrived right before lockdown to bring a little sanity to this madhouse.

We were both sitting at one of the picnic tables on the terrace with Jeff and Kayo, enjoying a moment of relative quietness. The boys were in the pool, playing some sort of ball game. I thought perhaps that this would be a day where nothing dramatic or ridiculous happened...

Sigh. I should have known better.

I must admit that there are times lately when I’m not sure what day of the week it is, or even what time of day, for that matter. So, when the alarm went off on my watch, I was as surprised as the others sitting with me. It was two o’ clock. I stopped the ringing, trying to figure out a way to go back inside to settle down with my viewing partner for another episode of the Big and the Boisterous.

Alan, who had decided that he didn’t feel like playing anymore had joined us at the table at the same moment. He whined a bit when our witch engulfed him in a hug but I know he’s putting up a show and he really loves the attention from her. “What’s this for, Grandma?” he asked, nodding toward my wrist. “It’s not... dinner time yet,” he added with a careful tone of voice as if he regretted mentioning meals.

She leant into him and whispered something that visibly reassured him. She probably told him she was going to cook—don’t tell anyone but it suits me too!

“It’s something I have to do,” I said.

I saw understanding dawn on our witch’s face and she smiled at me.

“Did you want to come along, dear?” I asked her.

Her expression changed to something I could qualify as a “heartburn face,” which I found a little disconcerting, but Alan chose that moment to exclaim: “Come along where? Can I go too?”

He darted a look toward her and I suspect that she kicked him under the table, thinking I couldn’t see her. They all think I’m blind but I see everything.

The comms unit on the table bleeped. While I noticed it was my colour on there and knew it was Mike (you might know him as the Mechanic) and was going to wait before answering, my son just pressed the button out of habit and his hologram popped out. Mike was clearly not expecting to have an audience and it showed on his face.

“Hey, Mike,” both Alan and John’s wife exclaimed at the same time; Kayo smiled and gave him a little wave.

“Erm, hello.” He looked at me. “I can call back later...”

Our viewing session is actually recorded. The show isn’t actually at 2 o’clock but it's usually a quiet time in the household and we use the video on demand service to watch—that way we can skip the ads. We debate on a lot of things during our watch sessions but we both agree that we can’t stand to watch it live.

“Oh, no! It’s your time, Grandma, don’t let us hold you back,” our witch said.

“We can stay and chat a bit now that we’re here, can’t we, Mike?” I asked, feeling that it was impolite to just leave at this point.

“I suppose we can...” he sounded about as enthusiastic as when he tried to peel off that charcoal facial mask I had him try for his T-zone.  

“I’m almost certain I will regret asking, but how did this all begin anyway?” John’s wife motioned between the holoprojector and me.

Mike rolled his eyes and sighed. “Might as well get this over with...” he muttered.

Everyone around the table, including Kayo, gathered around closer to listen in. I’m not sure why people think it’s extraordinary that I’ve welcomed Mike to the household. He was on the island for months while they prepared the Zero-XL so it’s only natural that I tried to bring him out of his shell.

“It all started when Mike was working on the T-Drive, and just like the rest of you, he has a habit of not stopping to rest and can be stubborn—”

“We were on a tight schedule and I wanted the drive to work. I had an idea about optimizing the fuel intakes and I wanted to try it right away,” he cut me off.  

 As if he realized that the reason for the tight schedule was right there at the table, he stopped, looking a little sheepish. Mike really fits in with the rest of them. Doesn’t know when to stop and too modest for his own good. No wonder I took him under my wing so naturally.

“So you went in after dinner, when you were supposed to be resting, and you didn’t have your protective boots on,” I provided.

“Oooh, I remember that!” Alan exclaimed, right before he scrunched his face at the memory. “Ohhh, yeah.”

“That bad?” our witch asked.

“I would have been fine, but apparently a little cut warranted ‘calling Grandma,’” he explained, air quoting the last part and sounding annoyed, but I could see the twinkle in his eye. He’s a good kid.

I ignored him and replied to her: “I’m telling you, dear, just like the others. Saying it’s nothing when he’s leaving a trail like Little Thumbling.” She made a face because she’s not quite at ease with blood and needles—quite ironic considering the family she married into if you ask me—so I moved on quickly. “I bandaged him up and had him settle down in the lounge with a snack so that he could rest and I could keep an eye on him.”

“I was forced to watch… dreadful things. And I couldn’t walk away.”

Mike had his “harsh and scary” face on but I know him by now and he was actually becoming more at ease as the conversation went. I couldn’t help rolling my eyes at him.

“Sure, we had to do a few adjustments at first, but don’t deny it young man, when I picked a series about boxing, you were hooked.”

“Boxing?” Alan’s expression was as doubtful as his tone of voice.

“What? Why are you making that face?” I asked

“Well you’re a grandma... don’t grandmas watch more whimsical shows like Walnut Grove or that singing academy one?”

“Clef-Hangers isn’t whimsical, it’s brain-numbing and unrealistic.”

I didn’t know where to direct my scolding gaze between Mike, who dared to criticize Clef-Hangers, or my own treacherous son, who thought he was really smart by hiding his scoff with a cough. I am so misunderstood in this household sometimes.

Jeff calmed down rather quickly as he seemed to realize something. “Wait… Boxing? The Big and the Boisterous is still running after all these years?” He seemed baffled. “Last time I saw it, before I was lost in the Oort cloud, Magdelena was pretending to be a rich investor so that Carlos noticed her and invited her to the gym.”

“Oh no, things have progressed a lot. They are married now and have five children. Her habit of buying expensive clothes and shoes to look like an investor turned into a shopping addiction though,” I said.

“Three. The two youngest ones aren’t his,” Mike growled.

“Well she was bearing the youngest for her best friend who couldn’t have children but by some miracle she became pregnant by  Carlos, so Magdelena decided to keep the baby. Carlos thinks the baby is his, however there was a fertility clinic involved, so we don’t know who the father actually is,” I felt I had to explain to the others.

“Magdelena doesn’t know her friend’s baby is Carlos’.”

“No. Charles is waiting for his moment to drop this titbit of information.”

It’s so easy to fall back in our discussion and speculations—healthy debating—but at this point, I could see Alan’s eyes were glazing over and John’s wife was frowning and mouthing something to herself. It’s not that complicated... youngsters these days, no attention span whatsoever.

“But... wasn’t Charles harbouring his secret the last time I, um, was there? That was months ago,” she said.

The dear girl was sensible and didn’t mention any beauty treatments that could have ruffled Mike’s feathers. “Careful planning takes time. They follow a realistic timeline,” I explained.

A non-committal sound came out of her mouth and Jeff choked on his coffee. How dare! Sometimes, he’s as bad as his  sons. I continued my story: “Anyway, after having to stay put for a couple of days, Mike couldn’t miss an episode anymore and began pretending to be busy close by when I was watching—”

“I did not!” he spluttered.

“And we ended up setting a time and began watching regularly. There’s really nothing much to it. It was our quiet time from you rowdy lot and we just continued it when Mike moved off the island.”

“The whole situation is kind of whimsical if you think about it,” John’s wife commented, earning a smile from Kayo and a nod from Alan.

I don’t think Mike ever was called whimsical in his life. And from the look on his face, he was thinking the exact same thing.

“I’m half tempted to watch now... I mean if Mike likes it...” Alan commented.

“You can jump in at any time, honey, Mike and I will quickly put you up to date. A big boxing championship is coming up and it will be exciting. However, we still don’t know if Carlos will recover from his drinking phase, today could be revelation time,” I mentioned.

“It’s not a drinking phase!"

" He was poisoned!” 

Both Mike and Kayo protested at the same time, then stopped and looked at each other, startled.

The table grew silent at the revelation.

“You watch the Big and the Boisterous too?” Alan asked, his expression a mix of curiosity and glee at the thought of obtaining some precious blackmail info from this discussion.

“... not all the time. I... I study the fight scenes,” she huffed and sat there, sulking, her face slightly darker than usual.

John’s wife raised her eyebrows. “Why? In case you need to throw birthday cake at your opponents? Unless you find one of Carlos’ sons cute...”

Kayo gasped indignantly. “I do not!”

Both girls elbowed each other, calling each other names, but they were also trying to hold back laughter so I didn’t worry about it. They have their own language by now and they keep the boys on their toes each time they team up.

I couldn’t help to take a moment to wonder which of Carlos’ sons could have caught my adoptive granddaughter’s fancy, however. I’m still not sure.

Jeff must have decided that both my viewing partner and Kayo had suffered enough because he hugged me, kissed my temple and said: “Well, go ahead, Ma, go have your moment and find out what’s happening at the gym. We’ll keep busy.”

“Call me when you are ready,” Mike said, before saying goodbye to everyone and giving Jeff a respectful nod and a “Sir.”

I don’t think he’ll ever be able to call my son by his name, or me by my own for that matter. And I have tried. I’d even accept “Grandma” now. But he won’t call me that anymore. He said it wouldn’t be respectful after what he did to us in the past.

I haven’t given up yet. Must be my whimsical side.

I stood from the picnic table to retreat to my room, but only managed to make it halfway to the kitchen when I heard a commotion coming from the pool area.

I told you,  I should have known better.

Sure enough, when I turned around, I saw my eldest grandson out of the pool clutching his foot. John’s wife sprung out of her seat with impressive speed, yelling “Oh for crying out loud! I have my back turned for two seconds and you manage to injure yourself, you big doofus!”

She stormed past me, grumbling: “I’ll get the first-aid kit...”

 

I guess Carlos’ drinking situation would have to wait yet a little more.

[all-you-need-is-paul-mccartney]

The Couple Next Door III (Roger Taylor x Female!Reader)

Find Part II Here

A/N: Okay, yes, I may or may not have written this in less than a day, and no, I’m not the happiest with it. Then again, I’m not exactly always happy with what I produce. As long as my works entertain others, that’s all that matters.

But anywho, I wrote this part of the series in 3rd person Omniscient for Roger because we need to know what’s going inside that tiny head of his.

Don’t forget to leave notes, show your support and interest in my pieces by sending in a reply. All support and feedback is greatly appreciated! :)

Summary: Roger and you spend dinner at the Garrisons, and Roger does some thinking.

(Again, Borhap! or Canon! Rog, whatever tickles your peaches)

WARNINGS: Swearing, slow burn, mentions of sex (nO sMuT), mentions of drugs, alcohol, overthinking(?) idk this part made me a tiny bit sad)

I’m rating this a T, but the subject matter is a little heavier than my previous parts of this fic. I would advise you to proceed with caution.

Roger stepped out of the shower, staring at his muted reflection in the foggy mirror before reaching for a towel. He took his time towel-drying his hair, and by the time he’d dried himself completely off, the steam in the bathroom dissipated just enough for him to be able to make out his facial features in that same mirror.

 At this point he reached for the blow dryer on the right side of the counter. After fully removing the vapour off the mirror with it, he used it to completely dry his hair. 

 His fingers ran through his blond strands carefully as he tried to make sure he didn’t leave anything wet. 

 As much as Roger liked his hair, he’d rather have some girl pulling on it than him. 

 But that was besides the point. 

 Roger set down the blow dryer after a while, and just stared at himself in the mirror, his hands on either side of the vanity. 

 What the fuck was he doing? 

 He decided to fake a relationship with you, (on a limb, I may add) for the benefits of having a nice place to live. 

 It sucked that his days of sleeping around were coming to an end, though he didn’t exactly mind it.

In a way, Roger loved you. But it was like… a weird love. Almost like a “you-are-my-best-friend-and-I-would-die-for-you-but-if-you-totally-wanted-to-kiss-me-I-wouldn’t-think-twice-about-reciprocating” kind of love. 

 He’d felt like this towards you since high school, but you were with someone, and he forced his feelings down by sleeping with so many women he probably couldn’t remember any of their names if he tried. 

Eventually, with all the drugs and alcohol he consumed, and all the skirts he’d been under for the last five years, that other, almost forbidden feeling towards you, was gone. 

 Well… Until now. 

 "Rog, you good in there?“ You called through the bathroom door. The sound of your voice almost had his heart jump up into his throat. He circled a towel around his waist, and opened the door. 

 You looked him up and down, and Roger could swear he saw your cheeks glow. "Damn, you’re looking good, Rogie." 

 He choked out a strained laugh, averting his eyes to the small droplets of water on his feet. "Wel-uh.. th-thanks, um… y/n." 

 You rolled your eyes, a dopey smile on your face. "And you thought I took those compliments seriously.” You squeezed past a nearly heartbroken Roger in the threshold of the door, and you reached into the medicine cabinet for your toothbrush.

“All I need to do after this is put on my lipstick, and you’re not even dressed! We’re supposed to be over there in five minutes!" 

 This had Roger disappearing immediately into the second guest room on the left, the one you decided would be his room after he forfeited the master bedroom over to you. 

 You just shook your head before shoving your tooth brush into your mouth.  

_______________________________

"Just… be calm." 

 "I am calm. You’re the one that’s not calm." 

 "Why would I tell you to be calm if I’m not?" 

Roger was about to respond just before Anna opened the door. Roger and you immediately slapped painfully wide grins on your faces, and greeted the older woman with a soft hello as you stepped inside. 

 "Something smells good,” Roger complimented as he removed his jacket.   "Thank you, Roger. It’s almost ready. I’d give it another fifteen minutes, and then we’ll dine.“

 Roger nodded to Anna with a smile and turned towards you. He helped you take your jacket off, and you watched as he placed the coats on an empty hook on the wall. 

 He faced you again, and winked. He reached down and grabbed your hand, giving it a warm squeeze before you were both led further into the Garrison’s home. 

 Anna encouraged you both to take a seat on the sofa while she continued watching the food. 

 "Charlie kept an eye on the casserole while I grabbed the door. He’ll be out in just a minute, loves." 

 "Take your time,” you called to her as she made a beeline to the kitchen, leaving Roger and you alone. 

 Roger pursed his lips, twirling his thumbs in the sudden, and awkward silence. He took this time to examine the tidy, well-furnished home. 

 He began silently counting all of the framed photographs on the wall. 

He came across one of Anna and Charles. It seemed to have been an older one compared to some of the others. They were in wedding attire, Roger guessed, from the thirties or forties, the newlyweds brandishing bright, and ecstatic grins. 

He couldn’t help but smile back at the photograph. 

He didn’t feel as if it were a necessity to get married, but he wished he would find pure elation being with you. 

 It didn’t matter if he could never properly marry you; if he discovered you were never in love with him in the first place… or even if things did turn out that way; he just saw you. No one else. 

It had to be you. 

Roger’s eyes flitted to the right when Charles returned from the kitchen. 

 "Sorry to keep you kids waiting,“ he said sincerely, sitting down in his living room chair. 

” ’S no rush, Mr. Garrison,“ Roger assured him. 

No one really decided to say anything after that. It was silent for a few second too long, and Charles laughed a little. 

"Geez, are you guys uncomfortable? You both look tense. You’re good here. You can relax. Been a long day for you two–" 

"Charlie?" 

"Oop– Excuse me," 

Charles pardoned himself from your presence to see what his wife needed. 

You sighed heavily, and Roger’s head began to spin. 

 How could this look more natural…? 

 ”… hey um…“ Roger mumbled gently, successfully grabbing your attention, and you raised an eyebrow in confusion. 

Roger licked his lips, his hand slowly lifting and moving to hover just over your knee. His eyes refused to look back into your own.

You caught sight of his hand in your peripherals, and after looking downwards, you glanced back up at Roger. 

"Is uh… is it okay If I…?” 

You simply nodded, and Roger sighed in relief, his hand lowering onto your leg. You shifted the smallest bit closer to him, and you smiled a little at how embarrassed he was to be touching you like he would with any other girl.

You placed your hand affectionately over top of his when he started rubbing circles on your pant leg with his thumb. 

Your cheeks were a pretty shade of pink, and Roger’s were, too. 

Charles returned from the kitchen just then. “She "lost her glasses”. They were right on her face and neither of us even noticed until she saw herself in the window!“ 

You and Roger laughed along with Charles in regards to his wife’s antics. 

"But enough about her, I see her every day. Tell me more about you. How long have you had this one for, Roger?" 

The drummer smiled at you, taking a moment to himself to search your entire face for an imperfection; maybe a loose eyebrow hair, some smeared makeup, lipstick on your teeth, or even an ugly zit he could make fun of you for later. But there was nothing wrong with you. 

He couldn’t find one thing on your entire face he didn’t like. 

"I wish I could tell you I’ve had her forever, Charles…" 

You looked into his eyes. There was something… not quite right. 

It was the way he was looking at you.

He’d never looked at you like that before. 

 Not with that much adoration; and never, did you ever think, you’d describe Roger’s tone as "dripping with affection”. At least, not when he spoke of you. 

“It’s been about five years.” Roger concluded. “Best years of my life." 

"And the fact you’re still going strong makes me very happy,” Charles mused, his eyes shining with joy. 

 "Things’ll get even better. Wait until you’re married and have children!“

That statement had your blood run ice cold, and you could swear Roger’s eye twitched at the word.

Children.

"I remember when my wife told me she was pregnant. It was one of the greatest days in my life, though their actual births and my wedding day are easily the top two." 

 You opened your mouth, but no words would come out. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Uhm…” Charles turned your way. “We never really um…” you took a deep breath and tried again. “Well, we’ve never really sat down and really… discussed whether or not we even want kids.”

“No um… we just… can’t see ourselves as parents. To a baby. With our face. It just seems so… surreal.”

“Roger,” The blond swallowed, and nodded to Charles in acknowledgement. 

“Becoming a father is so rewarding. Wait ‘till you have a baby girl or a little boy, and you hold 'em in your arms for the first time. All that doubt will just wash away. Anna and I were so confident in our parenting skills, we had four more little ones!”

You couldn’t imagine having more than just one child, let alone five, or any of Roger’s, for that matter. The concept was so foreign to you, especially when it’s suggested that the father of these kids is the man who purposely puts the toilet roll on backwards because, and only because, it pisses you off.

Anna called the three of you to the table, cutting the conversation short, though you were relieved to get your mind off how hilariously ridiculous it sounded that you were sort of expected to give birth to Roger Meddows Taylor’s offspring.

He, on the other hand, couldn’t shake the idea. He spent the whole dinner on auto-pilot, trying to imagine how a child could share both his and your features. 

He watched you a lot during dessert, trying to decide his favourite part of your face, something that he would be happy for your hypothetical child with him to be graced with.

But much like earlier, he realized he loved your face so much, he couldn’t make an ultimate decision.

Much like you, Roger thought the concept was close to impossible, as well.

He didn’t want to come down with a “Baby Fever”, so he took the next chance he could to talk about something distracting. The subject was averted to music, and Roger’s drumming and things like that.

He was just glad his subconscious wasn’t focused anymore about which room in the condo would hypothetically be the baby’s.

_______________________________

“Thank you for inviting us over, Anna. That was the best casserole I’ve had in my life. Just don’t tell my mother.” Anna laughed at your joke, and teasingly assured you she wouldn’t.

Roger, after helping you put your jacket back on, held the door open for you, and after saying your final good byes to both Anna and Charles, the both of you were left alone in the cool summer night.

Your slow walk down the drive with Roger was very quiet. You two didn’t say anything.

You both took slow, careful steps towards your new home, two pairs of eyes searching the sky for constellations.

Roger’s hands were stuffed into his jean pockets, and you had your arms crossed over your chest.

He expected you to start rambling about how much of a disaster the entire visit was, and how there was certainly not enough casserole for left overs as Anna suspected, but you said nothing.

So he said nothing.

Roger climbed the stairs up to your front door, and unlocked it, wordlessly holding it open for you. You just nodded in thanks, and stepped inside, Roger close behind.

That’s where you both disbanded. You went right upstairs, leaving Roger alone in the dark front corridor. He just sighed, and locked the door as his eyes fixed to the blackness of the room.

He went straight to the kitchen, and opened the refrigerator. There were a few beer bottles in the fridge, and he reached for one, twisting the cap off with his shirt before taking a swig.

He shed his jacket and tossed it on the couch before sitting in the chair on the other side of the living room, and propping his feet up on the ottoman.

Upstairs, he could hear the tub’s faucet running. You were showering.

Taking another sip of his beer, Roger decided to wait until you were out of the shower and in bed before he went upstairs. 

 "… Rog?“

Roger’s eyes snapped open and he sat up with a start, gaze shooting to the hand on his arm.

Your hand.

Roger exhaled, and rubbed his tired eyes, his brain registering that you’d turned some of the lights on.

"Scared the bloody ‘ell outta me, y/n,” He slurred groggily, rubbing his forehead and combing his hair back with his fingers.

“I’m so sorry! I went to knock on your door and you weren’t in there!" 

 "I was waitin’ here for you t’ go t’ bed…” he must have fallen asleep, you thought as you rubbed the side of his arm.

“Well I was checking in on you to let you know the bathroom was free if you needed in." 

” ’M fine, Love. Thanks, though.“ He removed his feet from the ottoman, and rubbed the back of his neck, a number of empty beer bottles falling from his lap and onto the carpet below.

”… I swear I only 'member grabbin’ one.“ 

”… You go upstairs, okay? I’ll put you to bed.“ You bent down and started picking up the bottles.

Roger, who was on his feet, and turning the corner, stopped to watch you. He counted every bottle you picked up off the floor.

The higher the number, the guiltier he felt.

By the time you picked up five, Roger was already gone, upstairs and changing into some nighttime clothes.

He blindly chose his clothes, the combination being a pair of checkered pants and a Rolling Stones t-shirt.

He didn’t even bother trying to make an effort to get up and brush his teeth. He just climbed into bed and shut his eyes. 

But as promised, you walked into his room, and sat on his bed.

”… Roger, you know I didn’t hear the faucet running.“ 

 That’s how easily convincing you were to him: Seconds later Roger was in the blinding luminescent light of the bathroom, you sitting behind him on the edge of the bathtub as he drunkenly brushed his teeth.

"Spit, rinse, and I’ll meet you in the room.” You rubbed his back gently before leaving him alone in the room. 

Roger removed the brush from his mouth, and stared at himself in the mirror, toothpaste froth lining his lips and dripping down his chin in an almost comedic manner. 

Roger thought the froth kind of looked like facial hair. He even giggled a little at the idea of him maybe one day having a beard.

But then his smile disappeared, and he wiped his mouth off. Although he remembered only drinking one, he knew why he drank so much more. 

 Those thoughts about you were returning. The more time he spent with you, the more giddy he’d feel, and the more close he’d want to get. 

Roger wondered how he used to be able to teasingly slap your ass and make sexual jokes with you all the time without feeling at the very least flustered with his own actions.

He did it in front of the band all the time when you were around, but it was like he was in high school again.

He always had the urge to kiss you at least once before he died. The constant suppression over the last few years buried that urge six feet under, but it seemed the suppression wasn’t working anymore.

What if, Roger thought, this would be different? He technically had no reason to suppress any feelings he had towards you; well, maybe except for dignity purposes, but that was all.

What if luck and pre-destiny existed, and his chance to be with you just so happened to be now, under these awkward circumstances that would overall result in a blissful future with nothing but happiness…

But why would someone like her want to be with someone like you?

With the depressing thought hanging over him like an obedient rain cloud, he shut the bathroom light off, and moped to his room, where you sat in wait. 

You helped Roger climb into bed, and you tucked him in, kissing his forehead like a child.

“If you need me in the night, you know where I am, Blondie.”

Roger nodded, and mumbled his good nights to you before rolling over.

When his bedroom door closed, Roger opened his eyes despite not being able to see anything in the room. 

He blinked. 

 At the beginning of this commitment, pretending to be with you seemed like a piece of cake to him… 

 … But Roger didn’t know how much longer it would be until his behaviour towards you wasn’t pretend anymore.

_______________________________

A/A/N: Wow, This is a lot longer than I expected it to be, but I’m glad this part is done. I think I may write in Roger’s perspective more in this fic because he’s got lots of shit running through his mind, clearly. What are y’all’s opinions though? 

Anywho, enjoy this, I’m gonna go find something to inspire me for the next chapter.

PERMENANT TAGLIST:

@culturefiendtrashqueen​

FIC TAG LIST:

@amy-brooklyn99​ @scarsout​ @kimmietea​ @ohtheseboysilove​ @demo-wise​ @suavishowell​ @bohemianahoy​

[johnny-and-dora]

how sweet the taste of certainty

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

or, amy tells her parents the shining, golden reason why she can't marry teddy. (a missing scene of my royalty au)

read on ao3 / read the original  -

The morning after she asks Jake to marry her, Amy stops a couple steps short of the heavy dining room doors, heart in her mouth, feet suddenly and brutally rooted to the ground. The eloquent and respectful speech she spent all night planning has seemingly evaporated, leaving her less of a person and more a pile of nervous mush.

“Are you ready?” Rosa meets her gaze, her armour glinting in the summer morning sunshine.

“No.” Amy admits, smiling nervously, calculating the nearest escape route and how long she could survive in the forest based on her existing hunting and foraging skills. “Do you think this is a bad idea?”

Rosa considers it for a beat. “No. I think it’s crazy, and it might blow up in your face, but I think it’s a good thing. For everyone.”

She can’t help but feel reassured by her best friend’s trademark bluntness, smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair again almost compulsively. It’s just breakfast. A breakfast that may as well be taking place in the middle of a minefield, but still just breakfast. She can handle breakfast.

Amy takes a deep breath, nods at Rosa, and pushes the doors open.

She’s greeted by the tail-end of an idyllic Santiago family meal; her parents sit at the head of the table, looking stoic and serious as usual. Three of her brothers are also dotted around, Julian in the middle of shoving an entire croissant in his mouth as he waves at her. David is mercifully absent. Silver linings. She definitely doesn’t need the golden child around today.

“Amelia – good, we were starting to worry…” Her mom trails off, a weight behind her words that instantly sends an unpleasant lick of irritation down her spine. She clenches her fists, resisting the urge to tell her just how much she really needs to be worried about. Just how close she was to smuggling herself and Jake over the border last night and never looking back.

Amy knows this won’t work unless she’s calm, firm and collected – she needs this to go perfectly, the stakes for this particular conversation so far past the roof they’re practically up in the stratosphere (Jake’s words, not hers). So, instead of letting out all the latent anger kicking around in her chest, she takes a deep breath and smiles politely, the one usually reserved for dukes that condescendingly call her “sweetheart” and then drop their jaws when she can recite state law from memory.

“You guys said you wanted to see me?”

“Prince Theodore has been asking after you. He’s waiting at the West Wing gate.”

“Good. I need to talk to him.” Amy says, forcefully enough that her mother sharply raises an eyebrow, sucking all the air out of the room in the process. “I need to talk to you, too.”

Her mom and dad share a quick, loaded glance. Everyone falls quiet, Tony and Simon no longer squabbling over who gets the last bread roll, Julian letting a blob of jam fall on his shirt without noticing. All eyes are on her as Victor gestures for her to continue – ideally, she’d do this with as little of an audience as possible, but she confesses to Jake later that she couldn’t help but revel slightly in the drama of it all.

She’s Amy Santiago – she’s fluent in five languages, director of the royal art collection, ambassador for human rights and one of the best trade negotiators in the seven kingdoms. She is capable of anything. She can do this. She’d barely last a week in the forest anyway.

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“Amelia…” Her mother sighs disapprovingly – it drills into Amy’s soul, but she stands her ground, making peace with her portrait being one step further away from the mantel. Her father eyes her warily as if he was expecting this.

“No, I know. I know you think it’s what’s best for me. I know a marriage like that worked for you two, and I know that it would benefit the kingdom and that’s great. But I can’t marry someone I don’t love, and you can’t force me to.”

“Accepting his proposal may seem like a risk, but a one worth taking.” Her father says. “He’s good for you, Amy – his reputation, his influence, it could really help you build something. You two are perfectly matched.”

Amy chews her bottom lip, a nervous tic she just can’t shake, gathering her courage. “Maybe in a different situation, Teddy and I would have worked. I see what you see in him. But it’s more than just on principle. I physically can’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

“Because - “Amy says, voice shaking a little, but eyes alight, “-I’m engaged to someone else.”

And, well, there it is. Her whole life changed by a single sentence.

It has the intended effect, increased tenfold thanks to a truly magnificent spit take from Julian as he chokes on his orange juice. Her parents stare at her in stunned disbelief – a wide-eyed Tony pats Julian on the back as his coughing dissolves into laughter. Best of all though, Amy can see Rosa smiling wide and proud in the corner of her eye, and it’s all she needs to feel newly emboldened, heart thumping in a way that makes her feel powerful instead of helpless.

“My God, Amy. I thought I had it with the whole one-night-stand with the Prince of Arabia thing, but you officially just won most dramatic family announcement. Well played.” Julian laughs, uproarious and bright. She’s glad he’s here.

“I…don’t understand. You are…already engaged?” Her mother asks weakly.

“As of last night, yes.” Amy tries to remain as neutral and matter-of-fact as possible, but she can’t help softening at the fresh memory of Jake saying yes over and over again, punctuating each affirmation with a kiss as she laughed, buoyant and alive with unadulterated joy. It’s all still very surreal, especially considering she hasn’t slept since; but if it is all a dream, it’s one she never intends to wake up from.

“I don’t see a ring,” Julian says, a bright grin plastered on his face that Amy ever so slightly mirrors, unable to completely tamp down her happiness any longer. “Isn’t there supposed to be a ring?”

“There is, but he has it. I proposed to him.”

“Oh, of course you did.” Julian shakes his head in a perfect marriage of awe and amusement.

“How…what…who…” Tony stammers – having graciously passed the point of no return, Amy decides to throw all her caution and concern to the wind and dive headfirst into the unknown.

“His name is Jake Peralta and he is the absolute love of my life. I have never been surer about anything than I am about that fact.” She consciously pours every ounce of conviction she has into her words, and it tastes like honey on her tongue, fresh air in her lungs. “He’s a baker and he helps out in the kitchen with Charles and he is the kindest, most loyal, most wonderful person I have ever met.”

There are so many ways to describe him – completely unexpected, completely full of warmth and laughter and more love than she thought any human being was capable of containing. Loving Jake is endlessly surprising, but it’s also the easiest thing she’s ever done.

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d never approve of me being with someone who didn’t have ‘reputation’, but the truth is that Jake is good for me in a way that Teddy could never be. He is unconditionally supportive and thoughtful, and he sees me for me, not just as a status symbol or some idealised fairy-tale. I love him and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with him.”

She says her piece, affection flowing from her almost of its own accord. As she does, she’s flooded with memories – throwing grapes at each other at the picnic they shared in the wildflower meadows beyond the gates. Jake smuggling cupcakes to her to cheer her up on bad days. Him clumsily risking his life climbing through her bedroom window just to help her rehearse her big address at a formal dinner, planting a kiss on her forehead every time she got through a cue card.

Their walks around the castle grounds, laughing at stupid inside jokes. Playing cards in the kitchens with Charles, Terry and Rosa. Teaching him how to paint and sketching him in increasingly ridiculous poses. Having dinner with his mom. Stealing away moments behind the stables and on staircases. Most vividly, their countless private rendezvous in the forest, free of all façades and responsibilities and reputations to uphold.

Amy refuses to hide any of it anymore – he is, openly and unashamedly, the man she loves.

No-one speaks, for a little while; she lets her honesty sink in. Her mother is wearing a look of abject horror – her dad’s expression is stony and unreadable, and it startles her when he is the first one to break the silence, directly addressing Rosa standing guard by the door.

“Diaz. Is all of this true?” Rosa glances at Amy, who gives her an encouraging nod. She knows her father has always valued Rosa’s directness as much as Amy does.

“Yes, sir.” She pauses. “And for the record, I’ve known both of these people a long time, and this is the happiest I’ve seen either of them. It’s kind of sickening, actually.”

Her parents exchange glances, a silent conversation Amy isn’t privy too – she’s too busy feeling her heart swell with further affection, this time for her best friend. She and Jake owe so much to Rosa helping them out, relaying messages back and forth and covering for them. When this is all over, Amy’s definitely embroidering a thank you pillow for her to punch.

“I see. Will you please bring this Jake Peralta here for me?” His tone is even and calm, almost unnervingly so. Rosa nods, quickly disappearing. She knows exactly where Jake will be; in the kitchens, probably stress eating day-old pastry and getting a last-minute pep talk from Charles (which is guaranteed to be largely unhelpful and delivered through hysterical tears).

She’d warned him that they’d probably want to meet him; he’d expressed anxiety about it last night, but Amy had quickly reassured him that no-one else’s opinion mattered to her about this. They’re getting married, whether her parents approve or not.

Obviously, she wants them to like him. She’s dedicated a lot of time to making sure he knows he is loved and accepted, and she’s willing to work even harder to wax lyrical about how wonderful he is for the rest of their lives if she has to. For now, though, she just has to focus on not getting them both exiled.

Her dad calmly asks her brothers to leave the table – Julian mutters in protest as he exits, only stopping to brightly clap Amy on the shoulder and earnestly congratulate her with an enthusiastic high five.

“He sounds great, mimi. I can’t wait to meet him.” For once, her older brother is completely sincere, save perhaps for the suggestive wink he gives her, and it’s a touching gesture that eases some of the relentless anxiety building in her gut. Amy dreads to think how insufferable the pair will be when they do finally meet. She can’t wait either.

Part of her is absolutely fucking terrified to be left alone with her parents with her open defiance and violation of their wishes hanging so ominously in the air – Amy Santiago has never been a rule breaker. She’s always worn the stupid fancy dresses even when she’s dying for something more practical and let Gina give her more and more complicated and ridiculous hairstyles and politely mingled with the endless line of boring high-status bachelors as her parents watched on hopefully. She’s always played the role of the only princess to perfection.

But then she thinks of little six-year-old Amy demanding that she be taught the same combat training as her brothers and twelve-year-old Amy petitioning to allow female members into the Royal Guard and, well. They really should have seen this coming from a mile away.

Thankfully, it doesn’t take long before Rosa strides back in, a clearly nervous Jake hurrying forward in her wake. For a moment, her original plan of whisking him away to start a simple life together swims into her head, a powerful urge to protect him surging over her.

But then their eyes meet, and he waves, a small nervous smile on his face. And then she notices, as it catches the sunlight streaming in through the window and glitters as if enchanted, the engagement ring hung proudly around his neck. And she just knows, as sure as the sun will rise, that they can handle anything.

“I understand that you are engaged to my Amy.”

“Yes, sir.” Jake rocks on his heels slightly, nervously fidgeting the way he always does when he’s anxious. “I’m very lucky to know her and I love her very much.” It’s not the most eloquent speech ever performed in this great hall, but it’s by far her favourite.

“How do I know you are good enough for my only daughter?”

“Oh, there’s no way I’m good enough for Amy. She’s the most incredible person I’ve ever met and the best thing that’s happened to me.” He steps closer to her, silently taking and squeezing her hand as he speaks. “But she still chose me, and I promise you that I will spend every moment of the rest of my life trying to be someone worthy of being loved by her.”

She wants to scream from the top of her lungs that he is completely and utterly good enough, and she wants to hurt anyone who has ever made him feel otherwise. Instead, she squeezes back, and mouths I love you while her parents exchange another hushed conversation.

“Well then - it appears there’s nothing we can do to stop you. Nor do I think we should try.” It could be a trick of the light, but she swears that she sees a glimmer of pride in her father’s eye. Her mom clears her throat, clearly still struggling to comprehend the situation.

“Mija, what we want most for you is for you to be happy. Does he make you happy?” She asks – Amy glances at the man beside her and finds her best friend, her fiancé, her favourite person. Easiest solve in the world.

“More than anything.”

“Then that settles that. You two have our blessing.” Her father says, as simply as if he was commenting on the weather. Amy blinks once, then again, her grip on Jake’s hand getting tighter.

“We…we do?”

“Yes, you do. We clearly have much to discuss, but I must first inform Prince Theodore that other arrangements need to be made.”

“I…wow. Thank you. Thank you, so much, I…” Her brain appears to be malfunctioning, so she does the only thing that feels right; she hugs her parents, whispering another strangled thank you, and then hastily pulls a stunned Jake out of the room, now squeezing his hand so tightly it’s probably cutting off all the circulation. If it does hurt, he doesn’t say anything – then again, in the moment neither of them seems able to speak.

She drags him into the nearest room; Holt’s classroom which, blessedly, is currently empty. Heart pounding, she finally meets Jakes gaze. He looks like he’s just found the end of a rainbow.

“Did they just…”

“Yeah. Yes. I think they did.”

“So, we’re…”

“Getting married. Yep. That is a thing that is officially happening.”

There’s a single moment before they’re both collapsing into shocked, near-hysterical laughter, an amalgamation of relief, disbelief, exhaustion and above all else, joy. Amy practically throws herself around him, performing some kind of strangled hybrid of laughing and crying as she buries herself into his shirt.

They stay like that for a while, completely wrapped up in each other. It could be seconds or minutes or maybe even hours – she doesn’t care. Time has ruled their life together for so long; now, it’s an insignificant enemy, no longer precious, unpredictable or finite. It’s bliss.

“Hey, listen. Rosa told me, uh, what you said. To your parents. About me being the love of your life and all that.” Jake says, suddenly adorably shy.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. She said it with a disgusted look on her face, but I think she’s secretly rooting for us.”

Amy hums in contentment, making a note to call her a secret sap and then hug her the next time she sees her. Jake clears his throat nervously, calling her attention back to him, all soft and warm honey gaze.

“You’re mine too, by the way.” He says sheepishly. “Just in case…I mean I hope you that know by now, but-“ She smothers his nervous ramblings with a firm kiss, finally. Finally, the abstract brush-strokes and subtle hues of the future they could have together come into sharp focus, vivid and prismatic.

Finally, she doesn’t have to wonder if their love is doomed to be some quiet, fragile thing. It’s not some fickle flickering candle at all, but rather something as bright and as certain and as inevitable as the sunrise. Something beautiful and familiar that, in earnest, is only just beginning.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, future wife.” He grins, kissing her again. She’s sure, now, as her lips meld to his that he is the person she was always meant to come home to, to find a home in.

Amy feels a wave of exhaustion overwhelm her; now that the adrenaline is wearing off, the unfortunate side-effects of not sleeping for almost twenty-four hours rapidly take hold. She barely suppresses a yawn, scrunching up her nose as Jake looks at her fondly.

“You wanna go back to bed? I happen to know an excellent nap partner.”

“Oh, great, me too. I’ll see if Hitchcock’s available.” She says, laughing when Jake pouts in offence, draping her arms around him, leaning up so that their noses are almost touching.

“It’s our first day together as an engaged couple. I want to do something special.”

“Ames, we have the rest of our lives to do something special.” He says, gazing down at her with so much undiluted affection that her resolve completely melts away. The rest of their lives. She really likes the sound of that.

“Okay, napping sounds pretty good right now too.”

“Good, because we have about five minutes until I collapse from twelve hours straight of nervous hysteria. Would you mind carrying me to your bedroom?”

She rolls her eyes and shoves him, but also offers him her hand. They soon collapse into Amy’s four-poster bed, quickly pulling the covers over their heads, wriggling around and fighting for space while they giggle like little kids. Amy sleepily leans into him when they’re all settled in, and she’s never felt safer than she does now, being lulled to sleep by the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“We’re getting married.” She whispers reverently, eyelids heavy – she feels his lips gently ghost against the top of her head in response, perhaps subconsciously as if he were made to do it. They drift off, and the last of her anxiety ebbs and flows away as if merely a bad memory.

It’s the best sleep either of them has had for months.

[totally-incorrect-theatre-quotes]

After the Rain (fanfic)

Emily

By popular demand and my own impulsiveness here is Emily’s chapter. Just a fair warning that this fic overs most of Lydia’s childhood and peeks into her adulthood. At times it gets to be very OOC and refers to the canon within the mini-universe that is my fanfiction collection. Also don’t @me for making my OC Wendy end game haha. 

Emily is a wonderful mother, this fanfic proves it, but uh...grab your tissues this is going to get sad at times

TW: Cancer, mentions of death, suicide mentioned, grief, bullying

____________________________________________________________

Emily knew. Lydia was about four or five years old when Emily got the first indication from a conversation lost to Lydia’s memory. The two of them were walking to the bodega down the street when they ran into the couple that lived in the other half of their duplex, they were a really nice couple with two children, including a son named David who was Lydia’s age and a new baby on the way. From conversation over the years, Emily had learned that the two of them had been together for almost ten years now and though they weren’t legally married they did everything a married couple would. She and Charles hosted them for dinner before while their kids had a playdate, Sara was a lawyer from an environmental company and Jessica was an accountant who got along famously with Emily’s real estate agent husband. Being only three at the time Lydia didn’t even notice anything about the situation, she just knew that the little boy from next door was a worth hide and seek opponent. 

It had rained that afternoon so Lydia was preoccupied jumping up and down in every rain puddle she came across, her yellow rain jacket making her look like a little duck as she hopped down the street. Sara and Jessica must have gone down to the store and gotten caught in the storm because their hair was soaked as they walked up the street. Emily invited them over for game night that evening and the three of them started talking. Lydia paid no attention to the grown-up talk until she saw the two women hold each other’s hands, and the one lady kissing the other’s as they made a joke. She stared at them for a second and was disrupted when her mom bid them farewell and held onto Lydia’s hand once more and started walking towards the shops again. 

“Mama how come they hold hands like you and daddy?”

Emily smiled gently at her curious but blunt daughter, “Because they love each other like me and daddy do. That’s why David has two mommies.”

Lydia’s eyes widened, “There can be two mommies?”

“There are lots of kinds of family’s sweetie. Sometimes it’s a mommy and a daddy, sometimes it’s two mommies or two daddies, sometimes it’s just one.”

“Are they married?”

Not wanting to discuss the long and complex history of trying to get marriage equality to a kindergartener Emily told her they were. The look on her face when she told her that was as if a light bulb had lit up in her tiny head. Very matter of factly Lydia looked up, smiled widely at Emily, her smile missing a few teeth that had become the property of the tooth fairy, and announced, “I want to marry a girl too!”

“That’s okay with me,” Emily chuckled unsure if anything would ever come of the conversation or if it would be another one of the musings of a child like how last week Lydia wanted to be a bird. Emily couldn’t tell the future, but no matter how it went she knew she’d love Lydia no matter what. Emily slightly hoped that the couple next door would be there while Lydia was growing up so that if she was, Lydia would never have to grow up thinking it was something abnormal. Unfortunately the next year Jessica had been offered a lucrative position in California and the whole family moved away, within a few months Lydia had almost completely forgotten about the family next door and they were instead replaced with an equally nice elderly couple that Lydia would always associate to be her childhood neighbors. 

Lydia was a little older the second time Emily thought she knew. She was in the third grade making valentines for the Valentine’s Day party in school the next day, most the kids in her class would be receiving a paper card with a lollipop taped to it and a quick, messy scribble that was supposed to resemble Lydia’s signature. Only one card was neat looking, it was also the one on the packaging that Lydia had said was her favorite. It was a cartoon cat holding a heart that said: “Be my meowentine” and Lydia signed her name with her I dotted with a heart. Curious as to who this prized valentine was going to Emily glanced down at the name and didn’t recognize it from the mental list of kids Lydia was friends with. It was addressed to a girl named Chloe. Even the cards for the kids she was friends with didn’t look as nice as this one. Emily wondered if this new girl was suddenly Lydia’s best friend or if possibly Lydia had her first crush. Not wanting to embarrass her daughter she didn’t ask, but she could see the next day the disappointment in Lydia’s eyes when the card she didn’t even get a card from Chloe. 

Lydia was ten years old when gay marriage was legalized in the United States. She was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast with her parents when they all heard it on the morning news. Nobody really had a strong reaction. Charles said something along the lines of how it was about time it was made legal and Emily thought back to that lovely couple that lived next door to them in the years past, wondering if they were celebrating the great news, not that they were never a family but now it was official. The life they had been living was now accepted by a majority of the country. Emily looked over to an obvious Lydia and was thrilled that her daughter was allowed to grow up in a time where love is love. Relieved that if Lydia was she wouldn’t have to hide it, and if she wasn’t that she could be an ally and appreciate the beautiful and diverse world they had to pleasure to live in. 

Ever since she had started middle school Lydia had become really insecure and self-conscious, it was a hard change to see in her previously confident daughter. She was painfully aware of how cruel kids could be at that age. It’s such a confusing time in life that people often take their inner anguish out on other people. It doesn’t make it right but that’s a fact of adolescence. She wished she could give Lydia a skip button and just let her fast forward through the awkward years of middle school but she couldn’t. Lydia came home from school the one day musing about how pretty the one girl in her class was dressed,  how nice her smile was, how smart and funny she was, always making jokes when the teacher wasn’t listening. Charles, a well-meaning, but not intuned to the more sensitive topics in life simply gave Lydia a pitiful look and told her, “Aw honey you’re beautiful too, you don’t have to compare yourself to them.”

It was very possible that that was what Lydia was doing but the way she talked about the girl reminded her of herself at that age when she had a crush on the boy who sat in front of her in English class. Lydia didn’t say anything more on the matter, simply thanking her father for the compliment and finishing her dinner quickly. Emily gave Charles a stern look but it was clear that he didn’t know what he did to upset her, to be fair Emily didn’t know if that was what had upset Lydia either, she hoped that if what she thought was true was true that she would have established enough trust that Lydia would feel comfortable telling her. 

She didn’t make a habit of snooping on the things in Lydia’s room but one night when she was putting away laundry one of Lydia’s dresses had accidentally been washed with Charles’ shirts. Lydia was off to school that day and when Emily went into her room her laptop was still open and turned on, resting on her desk. She walked past and couldn’t help but notice the title of one of the tabs open. The Kinsey Scale Test. She didn’t click on the tab to see the results, those tests only tell you what you want to hear but it was confirmation that Lydia was indeed questioning it. Respectfully she didn’t bring it up, knowing that if she was ready she would bring it up herself. 

Emily didn’t want to leave. She wasn’t ready to die, she didn’t want to lose Charles or leave Lydia alone but it wasn’t like she had a choice in the matter. The cancer had metastasized to her spinal cord and she had a three percent chance to live the next six months. She wasn’t scared of dying, she wasn’t particularly religious, she didn’t care what happened next, but she was so afraid of what this would do to Lydia. She was so young, she needed a mother still. There was so much of her daughter’s life she was going to miss. She was never going to get to see Lydia start high school, or take her to buy a dress for her first dance, or help her work through her first broken heart. She’ll never get to see Lydia find what she’s passionate about, she’ll never help Lydia fill out college applications or watch her open acceptance letters. She’ll never see Lydia graduate and go to college, she won’t have to hold back tears when her baby girl moves out. She won’t get to meet the people Lydia wants to share her life with, or meet the person she marries, or the children she has if she wants then. She’s going to miss everything that happened in her daughter’s life and there was nothing she could do about it. All Emily ever wanted was for Lydia to be happy and to have a good life and now she’ll never get to know how it all turns out. 

She wanted so badly to focus on the now, she was still here right now and Lydia needed her but she couldn’t help but to get lost reminiscing on the past or lamenting on a future she’ll never have. Over the weeks and months leading up to the end, she couldn’t even leave the hospital, it was nothing but the same four white walls as they tried to treat the cancer just trying to give her more time. Charles and Lydia kept her company when they could but Emily could tell when it was all becoming too much for the fourteen-year-old. She had to deal with all of this on top of all the other things going on in the life of an eighth-grader. She didn’t go to school much during the last month, she was given extensions on all her work and told to just focus on family and though Lydia desperately wanted to be there all the time Emily and Charles would insist that she would sleep at home and spend at least one day a week being with kids her age. She knew Lydia was still being bullied, most people pulled back knowing about the whole cancer situation but some kids just used that even more. Emily frequently caved when Lydia would stall going home, insisting that she wasn’t tired but twenty minutes later she would be peacefully sleeping curled up on a hospital chair or snuggled up like a kitten at the foot of Emily’s bed. She didn’t know how many more nights she would get with Lydia, and even though she was fourteen Emily relished in the nights when her daughter would fall asleep in her embrace, all the stress and worry melting from her face as she slept. Emily’s thoughts drifting from memory to memory of Lydia growing up, and though she was so grown-up she could still see that little baby she cradled all those years ago. The toddler that would terrorize the house during the day but look like an angel in her crib. The little girl who would run off the school bus after school and play all night until she fell asleep in the crook of Emily’s arm when reading a bedtime story, using all the funny voices that made Lydia giggle. She wondered where all the years had gone, and when Lydia had grown up.  

There was something on Lydia’s mind, she could tell. She could see it in her eyes but she didn’t know what. There was so much going on in her life that it could have been anything, but whatever it was it was conflicting Lydia. It was a very noticeable change in her demeanor. She avoided certain topics, she got defensive when a well-meaning nurse mused about how any boy would be lucky to date her. Lydia was sitting with her in the hospital bed watching some sappy soap-opera on the hospital television, and when a lesbian couple kissed on-screen Lydia trained her eyes down on the floor, not like she was disgusted but like she was ashamed. 

Every once and a while she would go to talk but stop herself as if she was doubting what she wanted to say. Emily tried to assure her they could talk about anything but Lydia would just change the subject saying it wasn’t important. What was important to her was being there. Everyone was aware when the end was coming, they knew it would be soon but they didn’t know exactly when it was going to happen. The third week of December Emily took a turn for the worse, she was rushed into the intensive care unit and Charles was told to bring the family to say their goodbyes. 

She died on the Eighteenth of December. A day that forever would invoke nothing but grief and heartache in Lydia. A puzzle that would never be fully complete no matter how many pieces she added because something would always be missing. It had taken her a long time to be okay. It had literally taken her a demon and a near-death experience to give her a new lease on life and while she still missed her mother very dearly every day, she was able to go on with her life. Something that she had almost cut short twice because she was so blind with grief and hurt. She learned to be more comfortable with herself. Slowly she had told people the truth, beginning by telling herself the truth as she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Telling her father had been hard but she felt stronger once she had, like she wasn’t so alone anymore. She had a variety of coming out stories from accidentally telling Delia, to the tearfully and serious conversation with the Maitlands, to the very casual statement told to Beetlejuice. She felt loved and supported, though she was still bullied and she had her heart broken she rebounded quickly. She met a girl she liked and after a while, she was proud to call Wendy her girlfriend. She was welcomed into the Blackwood family with open arms, and over time they two of them just got closer. The summer before her sophomore year the whole family took a trip to New York and went to Lydia’s first pride parade. She knew her community was large but she couldn’t help but to gasp in awe of just how many people there were like her, proud to be who they were. While the crowd could be overwhelming at times Lydia would always think fondly of the memory, and no matter how many parades she went to afterward that one would always be her favorite.  

There were hard times too. Every December was hard for Lydia, she would retreat into herself and unintentionally push people away. It took her time to learn to let people in and be there for her and she learned how to be there better for him. There were plenty of times where Lydia wished her mother had been there. In her junior year, she and Wendy had broken up. They had a silly argument that neither of them remembered but it lead to them being broken up for almost half a year before Lydia realized she didn’t want to lose her and asked her to prom. During first few weeks of the break-up, she wanted nothing more than to have her mother by her side eating ice cream and talking about their feelings. Barbara, Delia, and Beetlejuice were more than willing to fill the role, she appreciated it but it wasn’t the same.  She had her father save a seat for Emily at her graduation and she blew a kiss to the empty seat when she received her diploma. Lydia kept up with therapy over the years, going less frequently but she still touched base at least once a month but she learned skills to cope better. A task that once seemed impossible was now one of her favorite coping mechanisms, in the drawer of her dorm desk was a shoebox filled with letters for her mom that she had written whenever she needed to get something off her chest. Some were emotional and hard for her to write, others were her sharing good news, a once and a while some would simply be what she did that day. She never knew what to do with them, she knew nobody would ever read them but she couldn’t bring herself to throw them away. 

She beat herself up a lot about how she had never had to courage to tell her mother she was gay before she died. She knew her mom would have been accepting but at fourteen she wasn’t sure of anything anymore. There was so much happening during that time of her life that the lowest priority was coming out. She kept it a secret and it was a regret of her that haunted her for years. She would eventually come to terms with it and the fact that she couldn’t change the past.

Years and years had passed. She was now all grown up, buying a house in Connecticut with Wendy right next door to the place she called her home from the time she was fifteen. She had built a life for herself that she was proud of. Her unconventional family was a beautiful and chaotic mess and she added to the chaos by marrying Wendy and adding two children to their family. They adopted a two-year-old boy that, much to the dismay of Beetlejuice, came with the name Lawrence and they welcome a baby girl that Wendy and Lydia unanimously decided to name Emma. Lydia was never shy about telling her kids about her family, they were aware from a very young age that their one grandma was in the Netherworld and though they had a lot of questions about everyone else in the family their normal included Charles, Delia, Wendy’s parents and brothers, their Uncle BJ and the ghost-grandparents who nearly bawled when the met the kids for the first time. Their unique family definitely earned some concerned questions when Lawrence and Emma’s pre-school drawings included two ghosts and a demon. 

The children were six and four when Lydia finally thought they were ready. They packed up the car for the trip and drove an hour and a half back to New York City. They planned to do some sightseeing while they were there but most of their trip was welcomed with rain and thunderstorms. On the last day of the trip, they got the kids dressed, Lawrence in a red raincoat and Emma in a yellow polka-dot raincoat that made her look like a little duck when she jumped up and down in the puddles as they walked on the sidewalk. They arrived a the cemetery, Lydia’s memory drifting back to a dark time in her life where she felt so invisible and alone. She held tightly onto Wendy and her kids as they walked over to the spot. A grey colored tombstone with the words etched: “Emily Deetz. Devoted wife to Charles, Beloved mother to Lydia.”

Lydia gently placed a bouquet of red roses on top of the tombstone while she held back a tear. The rain had stopped before they got out of the car and the sun was peeking out from behind the trees illuminating the field in a golden-orange glow. Looking up at the sky Lydia pointed to her kids the rainbow in the distance. She took in a shaky breath, she had been waiting years to finally tell her. She thought she’d be more nervous, more emotional but she kissed the back of Wendy’s hand and said, “Hey mom, there are some people I want you to meet.”

[meangirlsx]

The End You Meant for Me (Part 1)

Pairing: Lydia Deetz x reader Word count: 2612 Warning(s): None Request: This first part is setting up the other parts which will be on this request, “Okay so like Lydia and her girlfriend spending a second christmas together and reader gets everyone in the house a gift, even beetlejuice! Lydia sees this as a huge step in their relationship because she sees how much her girlfriend has changed in a year considering she was very nervous, felt bad only getting Lydia a gift. To how shes more open and friendly with Charles and Delia, how she pokes fun at Beetlejuice, and how close she is to Adam and Barbara. Lyds is just head over heels in love.” and “Would you mind doing a Lydia x Reader (or Cady x Reader if you still write for Mean Girls) during the holidays? Christmas perhaps?” Note: MAJOR thank you shoutout to @sophiascaruso for talking through thoughts with me as I wrote this!

And @spooky-scary-lesbian thank you so much for requesting this and talking to me about it when I came to you with questions! I didn’t intend to make this three parts, but I started writing a flashback and it became this instead.

Part 2  Part 3

——

As you and Lydia approached the front door of the Maitland-Deetz residence, as you’d decided to call it, your heart started racing. You loved her family and they loved you. You were excited to spend Thanksgiving with all of them.

But today was the day you were going to tell Charles Deetz that you wanted to marry his daughter.

You and Lydia had been dating for almost three years, now, so you weren’t worried he would think it was too soon. You’d started dating not long after Christmas three years ago. Lydia had waited to introduce you to her dad and Delia until she felt really comfortable and confident that your relationship could last, and a little longer to introduce you to the family ghosts. But Charles and Delia had treated you like family since the day you met, and Barbara and Adam did the same. Beetlejuice had even taken a genuine liking to you.

You weren’t worried that Charles would hate the idea, either. You knew he liked you, and Lydia had told you he had even used the word “adore” when you were brought up in conversation. You were worried he wouldn’t like that you weren’t asking for his permission, though.

You hoped he would understand. Lydia loved him, and she valued his opinions on things, but you both felt that it was an out-of-date practice that treated women like property. Lydia had also told you that, back when she was 15 and they had first moved to Connecticut, he never talked to her about proposing to Delia before he did it. They’d worked through that since then. That was years ago, now. But you hoped it was at least a sign that Charles wasn’t a stickler for tradition when it came to proposals.

Everyone greeted both of you with smiles and hugs. Lydia visited very frequently, so she saw them all the time, and you went with her plenty. You found it endearing that everyone gave greetings as if they hadn’t seen you in over a year, anyway. They definitely knew how to make you feel like one of them.

Only a couple minutes after you arrived, Charles and Delia had engrossed Lydia in a conversation, so you took the opportunity to start making some plans.

“Barbara, Adam, can I ask you a favor?” you asked. You wanted to be as quiet as possible, but you wanted to avoid whispering, too. Whispering would seem more suspicious.

“Oh, of course you can,” Barbara said. “What is it?”

“We need to keep this very quiet, but I want to propose to Lydia.”

They did their best to keep their reactions calm enough to not draw attention, but you could see they were practically bursting.

“That’s wonderful!” Barbara said.

“Welcome to the family,” Adam said.

“Thank you,” you said with a quick laugh. “I want to talk to Charles about it. I was hoping to do it tonight, but we need to be alone to do that. Do you guys think you could distract Lydia after dinner?”

“Would it be easier to come over another time when she’s not here at all?” Barbara asked.

“She comes over so much, I’m afraid she’d end up showing up even if she hadn’t planned to.”

“We are on it, Y/N!” Adam said. “You can count on us.”

“Thank you so much. I really appreciate—”

“Hey, what’s happening over here?” Beetlejuice appeared and cut you off. “It sounds like scheming. I want in.”

The three of you looked at each other.

“He might actually be useful,” Barbara said.

You thought for a moment, then looked at him. “Okay. But you have to keep it a secret? Do you understand?”

He nodded like an excited little kid.

“I want to talk to Charles about proposing to Lydia, so I need her out of the room and distracted after dinner.”

Beetlejuice grinned. “I have enough material to keep her there until Christmas.”

“That’s not necessary, but I love the energy.” You looked at the three of them, so excited and so ready to help you. “Thank you. Seriously.”

Barbara gave you a warm smile and a gentle pat on the arm. “It’s our pleasure.”

The rest of the time up until dinner went about as you would expect. You appreciated that this was a group that had no interest in obligatory smalltalk. Conversations were real and deep and animated and weird, and you loved it.

The same was true during dinner.

Sitting at the table with all of them, you really did feel at home. They had welcomed you in with open arms from the moment they met you and never looked back. Really, you had done the same. Thinking about them all becoming your family, too, made your heart almost ache, it was such a nice thought.

After dinner, Delia requested that Lydia go upstairs with her and offered no further explanation. Charles didn’t seem surprised or confused, which kind of amused you. He was just used to that sort of thing. You didn’t say anything, and you tried not to make your glance too obvious, but Barbara, Adam, and Beetlejuice got the message and followed Delia and Lydia upstairs.

Your heart began to pound. This was your chance to talk to him. You wanted to take it — you’d specifically engineered the moment so you could take the chance. But you really didn’t want to mess it up or upset him. And you didn’t want to seem rude or careless by trying to talk to him before you’d bothered to help clean, so you started stacking plates.

You’d only been stacking for a second when Charles held his hand out to stop you.

“Oh, Y/N, you don’t have to start cleaning up right now. Everyone else will be able to help, too, when they come back, and then it will go much faster. Besides, I was hoping to talk to you.”

“You were?” You weren’t sure what he would want to talk to you about, but he seemed to be in good spirits. It was certainly convenient, too.

He walked over to the buffet table, opened a drawer, pulled out a nice box, then faced you again and gestured at your chair. You sat back down. He took a seat beside you and held the box so you could both see it clearly. He opened it slowly, revealing a beautiful locket. The way his gaze softened, it was clearly important to him.

“This locket belonged to Emily,” he said. “And it belonged to her mother before her. It’s been in the family for a few generations. Her father wanted to propose, but he didn’t have enough money for a ring at the time. His mother gave him this locket to use instead. Emily’s mother passed it on to her when we got engaged.”

You swore his eyes were shining as he talked about Emily.

“Emily always wanted Lydia to have it one day. The thing is, when we moved, we couldn’t find it. We thought it had gotten lost. I only found it last week, and I haven’t told Lydia.” He paused and looked into your eyes. “Because I wanted to give it to you.”

You had no idea how to respond to that. You watched silently as he placed the box in your hand.

“Now, I don’t mean to put on any pressure, and I’m not trying to tell you what to do. But I think it would mean even more to her coming from you. She doesn’t need my approval, or anyone’s approval, for that matter, and neither do you. That’s not what this is supposed to be. You seem serious about my daughter, and I know she’s serious about you. You feel like part of the family. It doesn’t have to represent marriage if the two of you aren’t thinking about that, yet. I just wanted you to have it. To do with however you please.”

You stared down at the locket sitting in its box. “Thank you,” you said, returning your gaze to Charles. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Charles reached out and placed his hand over your free one. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me. The love this locket represents… We wanted Lydia to have it no matter what, but we always hoped she would find...that sort of love. To think she’s found it with you, I—” His voice broke and his eyes began to fill with tears. “I’m really happy. For both of you. And I’m glad it’s you.”

Then he removed his hand from yours and leaned back, catching you by surprise. You felt yourself sit up straighter, not sure what had just happened. You watched him carefully for a moment. He wiped at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I really don’t mean to pressure you.”

“No, you’re not,” you said. “I actually wanted to talk to you tonight, too. About that. About Lydia, I mean. And me.”

Charles’s eyes found yours again and his mouth fell open just slightly. “About you and—” He cut himself off, breathed out, then simply smiled at you. “Please. By all means. Continue.”

His smile brought you comfort and you felt your heart actually begin to slow down. You were sure of this. You were sure of you and Lydia. And so was Charles. “I am serious about your daughter. I love her. So much. She’s become like my whole world.”

Charles smiled again at that. It was a fond smile with a hint of...familiarity? Though you weren’t sure why.

“I want to ask her to marry me.”

You couldn’t quite read the expression on Charles’s face, but it definitely wasn’t bad. If anything, he looked like he might cry again.

“I don’t want to ask for your permission,” you continued, doing your best to sound gentle and genuine, rather than factual. “Like you said, she doesn’t need anyone’s approval, and neither do I. But I would really like your opinion.”

“My opinion?”

“And support. Hopefully.”

“Well.” He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knee. “You have it. And so much more.”

You broke into a smile.

“It would be an honor to officially welcome you into our family. You’re really already a part of it.” His gaze shifted to the locket. “Emily would’ve loved you. She would want it to be you. And it’s not up to me, but if it were, I’d choose you for my daughter in a heartbeat.”

You stood, and so did Charles. You came together in a tight embrace. There were no words that could express how touched you were. You hoped your hug relayed everything you couldn’t say.

When you separated, Charles said, “I should go find a way to tell Delia she can stop distracting Lydia, now.”

“Wait, what?” you asked immediately, gripping onto his sleeve before he could walk away.

“I asked Delia if she would keep Lydia occupied long enough for me to talk to you.”

You pressed your lips together for a moment, then said, “I asked Barbara and Adam to distract her so I could talk to you. And they enlisted Beej.”

Without another word, you set the box on the table and the two of you took off running up the stairs to Lydia’s room. When you reached her door, you were surprised to hear complete and utter silence.

You exchanged glances, then Charles opened the door.

Lydia, Delia, Barbara, and Adam were sitting on the floor with their legs crossed and their eyes shut, holding hands. Beetlejuice was floating above them in the middle of the circle, also with his legs crossed, but his eyes were open, and he was juggling what appeared to be a few of Delia’s crystals. You figured it was a safe bet that she didn’t know he was doing that.

Lydia opened one eye, then the other when she saw you. She smiled.

“What are you doing?” Charles asked.

Without opening her eyes, Delia answered, “It’s a new meditation I learned. I thought it would be good to try after such a large meal. It helps with digestion.”

“Or lets the tryptophan settle in,” Lydia said.

You stifled a laugh. That made her smile wider.

“And I’m the necessary distraction to prove their dedication to the meditation,” Beetlejuice said. “Hey, that rhymed!”

Lydia’s shoulders shook with swallowed laughter, then she closed her eyes again.

As if she could sense Lydia closing her eyes, Delia opened hers. “We’ll be down in a minute,” she said, and winked at Charles.

“We’ll...be downstairs, then,” Charles said.

The two of you backed out of the room, hardly able to take your eyes off the peculiar sight. He shut the door behind you. You didn’t speak until you made it back down to the living room.

“She’s…” you started, but you couldn’t find the words to match your thoughts.

Charles shook his head once with conviction. “I love that woman.” Then he picked up the stack of plates you’d started earlier and made his way into the kitchen.

You began to follow him with more dishes, but you stopped when you realized the locket was still on the table. Charles returned for more plates, took one look at you, and his eyes lit up.

“I know exactly how to send that home with you without Lydia suspecting a thing.” He picked it up and carried it into the kitchen. You weren’t sure what he had done with it, but you trusted him.

“Y/N,” Charles said softly. “While we still have a second, if you don’t mind my asking, do you have an idea of when you’re going to do it?”

You nodded slightly. “I was thinking maybe Christmas? I thought she might like being around all of you to be able to celebrate with you. I mean, assuming she says yes. Not that we haven’t talked about it before, but—”

“She’s going to say yes,” Charles said with a smile.

The sound of footsteps on the stairs prompted you to get back to cleaning.

With seven of you working, the clean-up went quickly and easily. You loved the way everyone could laugh and have fun even when doing something as simple and tedious as cleaning up after Thanksgiving dinner.

You spent another couple of hours watching TV and playing games. You always found Lydia’s competitive streak kind of adorable, and watching her enjoy playing games with her family even though you knew she thought it was a little silly melted your heart.

When it was time for you and Lydia to go, everyone gave another round of hugs. As you put on your coats, Delia made a beeline for the kitchen, then ran back out with two bags. She handed one to each of you.

“You can’t have Thanksgiving dinner with this family and not take home leftovers,” she said.

Lydia thanked her and inspected her bag just long enough for Delia to give you a pointed look. You checked your bag, and sure enough, the locket box was hidden among the many food containers. You smiled your appreciation at her.

You also liked knowing that meant Charles had talked to Delia about everything.

“Thank you so much for joining us, Y/N,” Delia said.

“Thank you for having me!” you said. “I love spending time with all of you, and spending holidays with you means so much to me.”

“We’ll see you at Christmas?” Charles asked.

“I’ll bring her over between now and then, Dad,” Lydia said, almost confused.

You shot Charles a smile. “But I’ll definitely be here for Christmas.”

——

Part 2  Part 3  (linked at the top, too, but also here for convenience)

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