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attapullman · 2 months

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Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend.

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps.

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you.

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix.

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always.

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation.

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher.

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar.

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men.

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin.

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest.

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after.

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out.

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor.

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along.

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock.

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly.

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck.

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited.

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers.

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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hotvintagepoll · 1 month

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Propaganda

María Félix (Doña Barbara, La Mujer sin Alma, Rio Escondido, La Cucaracha)—Maria Felix is still possibly the most well-known Mexican film actress. She turned down multiple-roles in Hollywood and a contract with Metro-Goldwyn-Meyer in order to take roles in Mexico, France, and Argentine throughout the 1940s, 50s, 60s. She was so famous and so respected as a dramatic actress that she inspired painters, novelists and poets in their own art--she was painted by Diego Rivera, Jose Orozco, Bridget Tichenor. The novelist Carlos Fuentes used her as inspiration for his protagonist in Zona Sagrada. She inspired an entire collection by Hermes. In the late 1960s Cartier made her a custom collection of reptile themed jewels. She considered herself to be powerful challenger of morality and femininity in Mexico & worldwide--she routinely played powerful women in roles with challenging moral choices and free sexuality. But even still, years after he death, she is celebrated with Google Doodles, and appearances in the movie Coco, and holidays for the anniversary of her death.

Julie Andrews (The Sound of Music, Mary Poppins)—Oh where to start .... I'm not sure I even know how. She's just perfection. And it's not fair I can't bring post 70s work into this, because she just gets better and better, and her drag performance in to die for. But in the era I CAN talk about, she shows she has THE RANGE. Beautiful, feisty, funny, holding her own against Christopher Plummer, Paul Newman, Rock Hudson. Oh she's luminous.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

María Félix:

She's Thee Hot Vintage Movie Woman of México. She's absolutely gorgeous and always looks like she's about to step on you. you WILL be thankful if she does.

"María Félix is a woman -- such a woman -- with the audacity to defy the ideas machos have constructed of what a woman should be. She's free like the wind, she disperses the clouds, or illuminates them with the lightning flash of her gaze." - Octavio Paz

María Félix is one of the most iconic actresses of the Golden Era of Mexican Cinema. La Doña, as she was lovingly nicknamed, only had one son, and when her first marriage ended in divorce her ex-husband stole her only child, so she vowed that one day she’d be more influential than her ex and she’d get her son back. AND SHE DID! María Félix rejected a Hollywood acting role to start her acting career in Mexico on her own terms with El Peñón de las Ánimas (The Rock of Souls) starring alongside actor, and future third husband, Jorge Negrete. She quickly rose to incredible heights both in Mexico and abroad, later on rejecting a Hollywood starring role (Duel in the Sun) as she was already committed to the movie Enamorada at the planned filming time. Of this snubbing she said, quote: “I will never regret saying no to Hollywood, because my career in Europe was focused in [high] quality cinema. [My] india* roles are made in my country, and [my] queen roles are abroad.” (Translator notes: here the “india” role means interpreting a lower-class Mexican woman, usually thought of indigenous/native/mixed descent —which she had interpreted and reinvented throughout her acting career in Mexico— and what abroad was typically considered the Mexican woman stereotype, with the braids, long simple skirts, and sandals. This also references the expectation of her possibly helping Hollywood in perpetuating this stereotype for American audiences that lack the cultural and historical contexts of this type of role which would undermine her own efforts against this type of Mexican stereotypes while working in Europe) She was considered one of the most beautiful women in the world of her time by international magazines like Life, París Match, and Esquire, and was a muse to a vast number of songwriters (including her second husband Agustin Lara,), artists, designers, and writers. Muralist Diego Rivera described her as “a monstrously perfect being. She’s an exemplary being that drives all other human beings to put as much effort as possible to be like her”. Playwriter Jean Cocteau, who worked with her in the Spanish film La Corona Negra (The Black Crown) said the following about her, “María, that woman is so beautiful it hurts”. Haute Couture houses like Dior, Givenchy, Yves Saint Laurent, Balenciaga, Hérmes, among others, designed and dressed her throughout her life. She died on her birthday, April 8, 2002, at 88 years old, in Mexico City. She was celebrated by a parade from her home to the Fine Arts Palace in the the city’s Historic Downtown, where a multitude of people paid tribute to her. Her filmography includes 47 movies from 1942 until 1970, and only two television acting roles in 1970. She has 2 music albums, one recorded with her second husband, Agustín Lara, in 1964 titled La Voz de María y la inspiración de Agustín «The voice of María and the inspiration of Augustín», and her solo album Enamorada «In Love» in 1998. Her bespoke Cartier jewelry is exhibited alongside Elizabeth Taylor’s, Grace Kelly’s and Gloria Swanson’s. In 2018, Film Director Martin Scorsese presented a restored and remastered version of her film Enamorada in the Cannes Classics section of the Cannes Festival and Google dedicated a doodle for her 104th birthday. On august 2023 Barbie added her doll to the Tribute Collection.

Julie Andrews propaganda:

"She has such a simple but amazing beauty to her. Not to mention her amazing and melodic singing voice!"

"Roles like nannies and governesses can make us forget how attractive she was! A perfect combination of elegant and adorable, with the most incredible vocal range to boot!"

"Besides having one of the most amazing singing voices ever to grace the silver screen, Julie always had an understated beauty to her that wasn't always shown off on screen. But it's there nonetheless because her characters managed to pull some of the hottest men ever to grace the screen."

"The juxtaposition between carefree Maria and stern but fun Mary Poppins shows the power of the acting of this HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMAN"

"Charming, genteel, incredibly charismatic, beautiful, and has an angelic singing voice to boot. Her screen roles as Maria in The Sound of Music and Mary Poppins are absolutely iconic for a reason and she originated several well-known Broadway roles before those."

"the most beautiful woman 12 year old me had ever seen possibly"

"OMG OMG OMG she’s definitely been submitted before how could she NOT but!!!! I loveeee her so muchhhh rahhhh prebby!!!! cool!!!! mary poppins the beloved <33333 some people dislike it but I love jolly holiday so much because it IS a jolly holiday with Mary!!! no wonder that it’s Mary that we love!!!!!"

"I know many people who were taught in singing lessons "when in doubt, pronounce words how julie andrews would pronounce them." THATS CALLED INFLUENCE. THATS CALLED MOTHERING THOUSANDS."

#julie andrews #maría félix #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 4

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440mxs-wife · 3 months

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The Country Doctor, Chapter 1: A Fresh Start

Pairing: Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy x F!Reader (eventual). Other Characters are the usual suspects: Jim Kirk, Nyota Uhura. Spock, Montgomery Scott, Hikaru Sulu, Pavel Chekov (to be introduced in later chapters.) OMC's Travis Myers and Miles Cooper.

Word Count: 4530

Warnings: Divorce, break-up, ruthless businessmen, mentions of infidelity, but mostly fluffy (for now)

Summary: Fresh off of his divorce, Dr. McCoy receives word that he has inherited a 5,000-acre farm and home in Logan, Montana. Finally, he has an opportunity for a clean slate and to start his own clinic out west and leave his ex-wife behind. Along the way, he'll meet a cast of unique characters, each with a place in his new small-town life. But there could be trouble ahead in the form of a powerful CEO hell-bent on acquiring Leonard's property by any means necessary.

A/N: This idea was posted by @hailbop1701, with a specific list of plot points/dialog to be included. I won't put the list here, because it'll give away too much. Not sure how many parts there'll be, but I hope you like where I take the story.

A/N 2: If you’ve been tagged here, it’s because you’ve interacted one or more times on a McCoy story of mine, or we’re moots. Whether you like or reblog, I am eternally grateful for your support. If anyone else would like to be tagged on any future Karl Urban character postings, or would rather leave the Crazy Train, please let me know. Thank you, and enjoy the show!

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"Court is adjourned."

That was the declaration eight weeks ago, when Dr. Leonard H. McCoy sat at a table with his attorney in the Fulton County Courthouse in Atlanta, Georgia. The Honorable Judge Michael Simmons had just pounded his gavel on the bench to signify an end to the McCoy v. McCoy divorce proceedings. Unfortunately, his now-ex-wife, Jocelyn, had the better attorney, which resulted in a somewhat less-than-equitable division of their assets.

At least Leonard was able to keep his vintage pickup truck and the 4-bedroom, 2 bath, ranch-style home he had lived in with Jocelyn. She basically got everything else in the settlement, though, including most of the furniture. She didn't technically need the furniture, since she was moving in with her new boyfriend. However, he had a rental property that needed furnishings, so that's where they went.

Two weeks after the divorce was finalized, Leonard received correspondence from a law firm in Montana, with a request for his presence. The letter did not specify the reason for the request, and when he called the law office, no one was authorized to divulge any information. He didn't want to find himself on the wrong side of the law and besides, he was more than a little curious. Luckily, the law firm had a satellite office in Atlanta, so that's where he attended the meeting.

An hour or so after the meeting ended, a slightly dazed Leonard walked out of the attorney's office with a file folder and a property deed in his hand. The meeting was for the reading of the will for his distant uncle, Walter McCoy. Around 5,000 acres of land in Montana along with an old craftsman-style farmhouse were bequeathed to him to do with as he pleased. There were also various outbuildings on the property, such as a machine shed, a barn with a hay loft, and horse stables.

He had options. There was an Eastern conglomerate, NorthStar Corp, that was willing to pay a more than fair price to buy it from him, lock, stock, and barrel. With what they were offering, Leonard wouldn't have to worry about money for the foreseeable future, if ever. Or, he could make the break from Georgia and his ex-wife with her boy-toy to make a go of it in Logan, Montana. Although Leonard wanted to stay near his mother, Eleanora, he had to consider that this was his chance to start over somewhere else.

When he told his best friend, James T. Kirk, about his inheritance, Jim could hardly contain his excitement. He considered it to be the start to a great adventure and was more than willing to accompany Leonard.

Jim had no family ties to speak of, preferring to live a sort of nomadic existence. He even offered to take turns driving the moving truck the 1,900 or so miles to Montana. "Good music, good snacks, and good company are all we need to get us to our destination, Bones," Kirk told him with a wide grin.

The more Leonard thought about it, the more he warmed up to the idea of starting somewhere new. A place where he wouldn't have to worry about running into someone who knew about the divorce and wouldn't hesitate to share an opinion about it. So, with Jim's help, he cleared his house out of any remaining items, put them in storage, then contacted a realtor to list it for sale.

After only a few showings, a deal was quickly closed, with a $30,000.00 profit in his bank account to show for it. Leonard and Jim loaded up his remaining possessions into the moving van, hooked up a car trailer with Leonard's pickup truck on it, and headed west to Montana. The pair made a few stops along the way, renting a hotel room to rest for the night before hitting the road again the next morning.

The more miles Leonard put behind him, the more comfortable and free he felt with his decision. He wasn't too keen on leaving his mother behind, but she assured him that she would be fine, even encouraged him to take this leap. He made a note to send her a plane ticket so she could visit once he got settled.

Nearly four days and more than 1,900 miles later, Leonard turned into the gravel driveway that led to his new home. It was a charcoal gray with white trim craftsman-style farmhouse with a tall, red brick chimney on one side. The wooden wrap-around porch was accented with white, tapered columns, set on top of the slotted railing framing the area. He appreciated the large windows, which would bring in a good amount of natural light, as well as soft breezes on lazy summer days.

"Well? Is it everything you expected?" Jim asked.

"I didn't exactly know what to expect, Jim. I don't even remember either of my parents ever mentioning an 'Uncle Walter McCoy'. He isn't someone I knew well enough for him to leave me something like this, but I'll do my best to make the most of it. From what I've seen so far, though, at least the outside looks fine," Leonard replied.

"That's the spirit, Bones! Let's go have a look at the grounds, then inside the house. After that, we can start unloading your stuff," Jim grinned as he scrambled out of the truck.

Leonard stepped down from the driver's seat and closed the door. "Sure, Jim. Why not," he muttered to himself. He fished the house keys out of his pocket on his way up the porch steps. The front door was made of solid oak with a dark finish and leaded glass panels arranged in a geometric design. He inserted the key into the lock and tilted his head back. "Here goes nothin', I guess," he murmured, pushing the door open.

***

At just after 2:00pm, you stopped by the post office to retrieve your mail that had piled up over the last couple of days. Before you left, you strolled up to the counter to chat with your best friend, Nyota Uhura. Her shift was almost over, so she suggested the two of you meet for coffee and a snack at the Java Station Café on Main Street.

While you waited for her at the café, you thought about how you met her and what brought you back to Logan, Montana. Your now-ex-boyfriend, Travis Myers, had convinced you to move with him from Logan to Bozeman. He'd landed a lucrative position as in-house counsel for a large and powerful corporation. You found work at a tech company doing data entry work for a medical office. Not too terribly taxing nor was it what you wanted for a career, but it paid well.

Around the six-month mark of living together in the big city, Travis started coming home later and later in the evening. Missed date nights and other outings were becoming more frequent, with him coming to bed late and leaving before you woke up. Whenever you tried to talk to him about it, he always chalked it up to working late on a big case or project, so you let it go.

The last straw was when the two of you were supposed to meet a few of your friends for dinner. Since he was late picking you up from home, you asked one of them to drive you to the restaurant. From the lobby, you called Travis and told him to meet you there.

Just before you said your goodbyes, you heard, "Come back to bed, baby, I'm cold" in a woman's voice. You were furious, demanding to know who the woman was and how long he had been seeing her. After first denying everything, he ultimately confessed it was his assistant and it had been going on for about six weeks. You felt your world collapsing around you at his admission. Dinner was forgotten while your friends drove you back to the apartment to pack up your belongings.

You couch-surfed for about a month before finding an apartment back in Logan, where you had previously lived with your parents. Because Travis paid for most of the expenses such as rent and utilities, you were able to save up quite a nest egg to cover your new living situation. However, you weren't sure how much longer your savings would hold out, so you decided to look for a job to make ends meet.

The bell above the door tinkled, and Nyota rushed over to your table. After a brief hug, you both sat down and waited for your server to appear and take your order. Uhura was practically vibrating with energy, which meant she had something exciting to share. A few minutes later, with your order submitted, she spilled her secret.

"You'll never guess what happened today!" she exclaimed. "Two men came in today to file a change of address card."

You snorted. "That sounds like something that happens every day around here, Nyota, not that interesting. You're nearly jumping out of your skin about this. What is so compelling about them that has you barely able to sit still long enough to tell me?"

Uhura made a face at you to show her displeasure. "If you can keep from insulting me, I'll tell you," she pouted. You held up your hands in surrender as her cue to continue. "They moved here from Georgia, and one of them has the most tantalizing Southern accent. They were both tall, one blond hair with striking blue eyes, and the other dark hair and hazel eyes. He seemed a little grumpy at first, but Blue Eyes was the more charming of the two," she explained.

"Did you get a look at their new address, the one here?" you asked.

"The one with dark hair listed his name as Dr. Leonard H. McCoy, and his address matched the one for Walter McCoy's place," she replied.

Now she had your attention. Every so often, you drove by the farm, wishing you lived there instead of your small, one-bedroom apartment. You had thoughts about what it would be like to buy the place one day so you could fix it up and return it to some of its old glory. You'd heard through the grapevine that the owner passed away a few months back. It was also mentioned that ownership would pass to his only other living relative.

"I've always thought about that place, what it looks like inside, how I would spruce it up. Wait a minute, did you say Doctor McCoy?" you squeaked.

"And her brain has finally caught up with her mouth," Uhura joked. "I was wondering when you'd catch on to that tidbit of information. That house has a separate office space, ideal for treating patients. Word travels fast in this town, and once folks get to know there's a doctor in town again, Dr. McCoy is bound to need help. You know, with paperwork or coordinating treatment of his patients. Know anyone with those kind of skills?" she grinned.

In addition to your data entry job, you had acquired some basic medical training. The town had a couple of paramedics within the Volunteer Fire Department for the more serious cases. For now, it was enough, but it would be nice for the vacancy to be filled, especially by a handsome doctor. "Hmm. Maybe I should head out that way, introduce myself, see if he needs any help." Beg him for a job, you silently added.

"That's the spirit! If you're done with your coffee, we should drive out there and check things out. You in?" she held out her hand for you to shake.

After draining the last of your cappuccino, you nodded and shook her hand. "I'm all in," you declared.

***

Leonard and Jim wandered the property, taking in the condition and contents of the outbuildings. Many of the machines and tools were left behind. They noted which items were and were not still functional, to determine what could be easily returned to service or sold for parts. The good news was, the buildings themselves were structurally sound, although at least in need of a new outer coat of paint.

As for the house itself, Leonard was pleased to find a side entrance that led to an office, set apart from the main house. It was perfect for starting his clinic, with a small area that could function as a waiting room, and enough space for a reception desk. He made a note to check in town for a secondhand store to pick up a desk, some chairs and other furnishings.

Jim joked and told him that all he needed now was a pretty receptionist who could also perform nursing duties. Leonard glared at him in response, reminding him that after the way divorce went, he wasn't at all interested in dating. "Just doctorin'," he affirmed. "Maybe fishin', if the winds are just right," he added with a smirk.

A tour of the home's interior revealed hardwood flooring in the bedrooms and living room, while ceramic tiles covered the floor in the eat-in kitchen. There was a separate dining room space between the kitchen and living room. The centerpiece of the living room was a fireplace made with gray bricks and had a dark wooden mantle above it.

Before his arrival, Leonard contacted the utilities and asked for them to be turned on and transferred into his name. That gave Leonard and Jim a chance to determine what worked and what needed repaired. For the most part, the electrical system was in good working order, except for a few outlets that may need replaced or updated.

The water situation was another story. At first, when Jim turned on the high-arching faucet in the kitchen, the white farmhouse sink reflected a light brownish tint to the water. The pedestal sink and clawfoot tub in the main bathroom, plus the sinks in the half-baths were the same shade of brown. However, the more they let the water run, the clearer it became, which helped ease their minds a bit.

Leonard walked back out to the porch to make a mental list of what he'd need to bring the old house back to life and working order. The hardwood floors were in good condition, though they could use a bit of polish applied to them. There were a few non-working electrical outlets that would need an electrician's expertise to chase down the problem. In the bedrooms, there were spots where the wallpaper was peeling away from the wall. Not exactly a fan of wallpaper, Leonard decided it would be better to tear it all down and paint instead.

Overall, the pluses outweighed the minuses, such as the updated appliances in the kitchen and quartz countertops. Leonard could definitely see himself cooking up a Sunday dinner of his mother's chicken and dumplings with a peach cobbler. As an avid reader, he also loved the built-in bookshelves to showcase his personal library of classics. And the side-door entrance to the office space provided a break between his professional life and his personal life.

Jim joined him out on the porch and gazed out over the mature trees that dotted the property. "So now that you've taken the grand tour, what do you think, Bones?"

Leonard thought for a moment before answering. "Think I'm gonna like it here. Let's start unloading the truck," he directed. "Good thing we hit those consignment shops on the way here, or you wouldn't have a bed to sleep in," he jested.

Jim was about to unlatch the door on the moving truck when he noticed a car turning into the driveway. "Welcoming Committee?" he wondered. Leonard shook his head and rolled his eyes while he walked over to stand next to Jim. They both watched as the car rolled to a stop near the front of the truck.

***

The drive to the McCoy place only took about twenty minutes, which you spent silently reviewing your qualifications. Uhura could tell you were worried about making a good impression, which she was sure you would. She told you not to worry about it, that you were the best candidate for the job, if Dr. McCoy was hiring. "What if he's not hiring, though?" you asked.

"Then we'll have to convince him that he'll need your help, being the only doc in town. There really is no way around it, he will require an assistant," she reasoned. Her response sounded logical, so you accepted it and kept driving out to meet your prospective employer.

Soon your car was pulling into the driveway, where a large moving truck was parked. Upon seeing the two men standing to one side, you had to admit that Uhura was right. They were both strikingly handsome men. The dark-aired man carried a stern look on his face and his arms were crossed over his chest. The blond seemed a little more easygoing, self-assured, bordering on cocky, as if he knew what a good-looking man he was.

As you exited your vehicle, the men had started walking in your direction. "You ladies lost or somethin'?" the dark-haired man drawled. Ohhhh, that accent was enough to make you weak in the knees, you thought. You held on to your open door for balance.

"Yeah, can we help you?" the blond man wondered with a smirk.

When your brain finally rebooted, you responded, "Actually, we were hoping to be of assistance to you, since you're new in town." At this, you introduced the two of you and learned that the blond was James T. Kirk, or "Jim" he offered with a waggle of his eyebrows. His grumpy companion with the dark hair was the Dr. Leonard H. McCoy who now owned the property.

"I think we can manage fine with just the two of us. Good day, la--" Leonard was interrupted by Jim, who pulled him aside.

"Wait a minute, Bones, let's not be too hasty. I mean, these are a couple of gorgeous women who showed up out of nowhere to see us," Jim pointed out. "It wouldn't hurt to hear what they had to say, now would it?"

Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in exasperation. He was here to be a physician, to take care of people who need help, not dip a toe in the dating pool. When he looked up, he noticed that Jim had left his side and was talking to Uhura, while you had stepped up in his place.

"Excuse me, Dr. McCoy? I understand that my friend and I just turned up unannounced on your doorstep, and you don't know anything about us. But this is a pretty small town, and I should tell you, it won't take long for people to learn that we have a new physician to replace old Doc Thomas. Therefore, I'm offering you my services. I have some basic medical training, and I used to do data entry for a medical company back in Bozeman," you explained.

"Bozeman? Why on earth would you ever leave there to live here? Not to say that what I've seen so far of Logan isn't simply charming," Leonard added with more than a hint of sarcasm.

"I'll be glad to share that little tidbit of information once we've gotten used to working together," you shot back. "By hiring me, you'll have a well-organized appointment calendar, along with accurate patient files. You'll also have someone who knows how to take and record vitals, which leaves you free to do the doctorin'. So, do we have a deal?" you asked, your hand outstretched.

Leonard took a moment to consider your offer, bold though it was. He had to concede that in a town of this size, word would get around about a new physician and spread like wildfire. He'd probably end up with a huge influx of patients. Even if it was only at first, he might become easily overwhelmed. Patient care was of the utmost importance to him, and if you could make things easier for him, who was he to reject such a proposition?

His lack of response translated to you as a decline of your offer of assistance. As you started to withdraw your hand, he quickly grabbed it and clasped it between his own. "Whoa, hold on there just a minute. All right, you have a deal, but we'll do this as a trial run. A three-month probationary period, take it or leave it," he bartered, fighting the urge to smile.

"Thank you, Dr. McCoy! Three months? That'll be more than enough time for you to decide you can't live without me! In-in the office, I mean," you clarified.

Leonard couldn't help but smile at your blunder. "All right, now that we have that settled, I hope you'll excuse me and Casanova over there with your friend. We have a lot to unload, and I'd like to sleep in my own bed tonight rather than the couch," he stated.

"We can help, if that's okay with you? With four sets of hands, we can be done in no time. Besides, I've always been kind of curious about what the inside of your house looks like," you admitted.

You are one interesting woman, Leonard thought to himself. "Okay, let's get started then. Once we get everything out of the truck, I'll take you on the nickel tour," he winked. He whistled to get Jim's and Uhura's attention, then opened up the back of the truck.

***

"There, I think that's the last of it," Leonard declared after he removed the final box from the moving truck and placed it on the lawn. He jumped up to grab the leather strap, then pulled down the rolling door until it was flush with the deck. He latched and locked the door, picked up the box, and brought it into his new home.

Jim and Uhura had taken your car into town to pick up something for dinner, which left you alone with Leonard. During the unloading, you didn't get much of a chance to stop and look around. But now that most of the heavy lifting was done, you seized the opportunity to take in your surroundings.

You were so caught up in admiring the home's features that you didn't hear Dr. McCoy slide up next to you. "If you have your nickel, I'm ready to start the tour," he grinned. You dug in your pocket, which luckily contained the right coin for the price of your ticket. "Ready when you are, Dr. McCoy," you replied, handing over the 5 cents.

***

Video Conference Call -- Bozeman, Montana

Travis checked his watch to see that he had another ten minutes before his conference call was scheduled to start. He opened the blue file folder in front of him, which was sent from his employer regarding a property they wanted to acquire in Logan, Montana. He sat back in his chair as he thought about how you'd moved there after breaking up with him. Before he could stroll any further down Memory Lane, his alarm beeped to let him know it was time to start the call.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen," Travis greeted. He could see the CEO, Miles Cooper, at the head of the table, surrounded by other members of NorthStar Corp's Board of Executives.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Myers. I see you have the file in front of you, so let's begin. We understand that the principal owner of the McCoy property has passed away. As such, we want to move forward and make the new owner an offer to purchase the parcel of land and whatever's on it. The house, barn, stables--everything, down to the last shingle," Mr. Cooper explained.

"My source tells me that the new owner drove all the way from Atlanta, Georgia to check out the property. He is also a doctor, and the town has been without one since the last one died. In my opinion, this could present a problem. He may decide to stay and 'hang out his shingle', as it were," Travis pointed out.

Mr. Cooper leaned back in his chair and rested his steepled index fingers on his chin as he contemplated his next move. As he considered this new development, conversation buzzed around him among the other executives. According to one of the scientific reports he received, there were plenty of reasons for encouraging the good doctor to sell.

The report mentioned the discovery of several veins of copper and silver running beneath the surface. The financial gains from mining those resources would more than cover the initial investment paid to acquire the property. Whether the new owner was aware of these precious metals was unknown, but Cooper needed to act fast before the doctor learned of their existence.

With a wave of his hand, silence returned to the board room as Mr. Cooper had made a decision. "Mr. Myers, I suggest you do your best to convince Dr. McCoy to sell the property to us. I will have a new purchase offer drawn up that's more than fair, and you should strongly encourage him to accept it."

Travis carefully considered Mr. Cooper's words that carried the barest hint of a threat behind them. "Sir, I will present your offer; however, we should be prepared for him to turn it down and decide to become the town's doctor."

"You worry about getting a signature on that purchase agreement, Myers, and I will worry about whether or not a contingency plan will be needed. Before the previous owner's death, this was a working farm, right? Lots of tools, machinery? Farming is considered to be one of the most dangerous professions, you know. Accidents can and do happen. It would be unfortunate if an accident should befall the good Dr. McCoy," Mr. Cooper replied darkly.

There was no mistake in Mr. Cooper's intent this time. "Absolutely, sir. I will find a way to present your offer that will make it difficult if not impossible to decline it."

Mr. Cooper's eyes brightened and a smile graced his face. "Excellent, Myers, I knew I could count on you. I'll send that new offer over to you as soon as I have it and we'll go from there," he stated. "I appreciate your cooperation, Myers, I certainly won't forget it."

"And thank you, Sir. I welcome this opportunity, and I will not let you down," Travis concluded.

"Let us hope not, Myers. I'd hate for you to experience any....negative fallout, should you be unable to close this deal," Mr. Cooper remarked ominously before disconnecting the call.

Travis relaxed in his chair and began to formulate a plan in his mind. A sly grin crept across his face as he thought of the perfect way to get an inside look into the doctor's life.

Of course, it involved a trip to Logan and should he happen to run into you, so much the better. For him, anyway. Though there was a near 100% chance that you would want nothing to do with him. If that was the case, his plan may be a bust before it even gets started.

Especially after the way things ended between you discovering his infidelity. For that reason alone, it was likely your walls of protection against him and his crap were nearly guaranteed to be sky-high. But it was a chance he was willing to take, because he did not want to disappoint his client. Something told him that with a failure of this magnitude, Mr. Cooper was capable of making his life a living hell.

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Tags: @marvelouslytrekking @spacedancer1701 @anna-phora @hailbop1701 @writercole @lassie-bird @never--doubt @phoenixisred @wayward-dreamer @erindiggory @strangesgirls @dumpsterhippie @genevablog26 @lokis-deares @medicatemedrmccoy @rooweighton @mamamercurymist @d-doki-doki @malmeansbad @imamotherfuckingstar-lord @ghosttrekkie @noforkingclue @bellestalesoffiction

#leonard bones mccoy x reader #leonard mccoy x reader #au leonard mccoy x reader

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flowerwrites06 · 10 months

Text

lion and the fox finale — jjk

Plot: In a turbulent world of crime and intrigue, a fiery journalist makes an unlikely alliance with one of the country’s most notorious bosses. Pairing(s): Mafia Boss!Jungkook x Journalist!OC (Name: Belle) Rating: G | PG | M | R 18+ Type: Drabble | Oneshot | Two Parter | Series Word Count: 4.6k Genre: Mafia AU | Vintage (1940′s vibes) AU Tags & Warnings: crime, violence, sexual content, forced prostitution, mentions of racist/xenophobic implications and culture, mild scenes of harassment, some misogynistic behaviour, mentions of war, heavy mentions of drug use, infidelity. Authors Note: the finale is here, folks! thank you for the support on this series! Disclaimer: Please note that while some historical research has been done for this story, the MAJORITY of it has been altered in some way with creative liberties to match the themes and motifs of the plot.

Belle wore her own clothes to the meeting as they travelled to Namjoon’s personal teahouse, Gardenia Bloom. Jungkook knew he had no room to protest anything but at this point, Namjoon liked Belle’s presence more than his own. To be fair, Belle probably preferred her own solitude to his own presence. Since the morning Belle only spoke to him in professional terms, losing all of her softness, even that twinkle in her eyes when she looked at him.

It ached in his chest at how quickly things slipped away from him. Every time Jungkook looked at her, it was jumping into a pool, not knowing how deep or shallow it was going to be. But he kept diving anyway.

Gardenia Bloom was small and quaint but the men and women wearing their silks had sharp eyes, piercing into them without letting anyone catch a glance. Cherry blossoms were sparse during this time of year but there were momentary blooms, plucking off the branches and flowing into the breeze.

Namjoon already had a room occupied with a long dark wood table and paper walls with painted scenes of maidens serving tea to the nobility. His expression was neutral as they walked in but Jungkook knew he walked on thin ice. These two children and their questionable safety ran a dangerous line and no one trusted him to see to the end. Even Yoongi looked like he had reservations.

Jungkook and Yoongi sat next to Namjoon while Belle stood at the corner of the room. Her face still calm and stoic.

“Where are they?” Belle asked.

“They’re in the next room,” Namjoon answered. “You can go see them if you want.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped. He needed Belle to be here, as his strength. Even if she looked like she never wanted to see him again, he wanted her here. Much to his selfish relief, Belle shook her head.

“It’s alright.” Belle intertwined her fingers together.

Jungkook waited a long while, taking careful sips of his makgeolli as Seokjin took his sweet time arriving. He wondered whether he’d just abandon both his sons just to continue with this mission of becoming the leader. All this would be for nothing. Nothing but his own quest of power. His thirst of power that Belle believed he didn’t have, but perhaps he did. Perhaps he was no different from the predecessors he pretends to be better than.

Just as that dangerous thought entered his mind, the door slid open to Seokjin and his wife Akira. “Sorry for the wait,” Seokjin said, unfazed by their meeting. “Your guards do a thorough job in searching us.”

Seokjin sat on the floor table and waved for Belle to get him a drink.

Anger flooded through Jungkook but he didn’t say anything as Belle quietly poured the makgeolli as asked before standing back into the room like a trained maiden.

Akira, on the other hand, looked like a real mother. Distressed, eyes a little red but her poise calm and collected to ensure nothing was said unseemly to risk her son’s safety. It was only when looking at her that Jungkook felt a twinge of guilt.

“I have to say, I thought Yeou Pa had a slight moral ground,” Seokjin said. “But I suppose we’ve been rather frazzled.”

“The conditions here are simple,” Jungkook said, trying his best to get to the point before his urge to punch Seokjin face back into his skull sunk in too deep. “If you wish to continue on with this charade of being the sole Korean leader than you may take your Korean son and be on your way. Or you can choose your son with Akira and quit all this nonsense.”

Seokjin laughed, taking a generous sip of his makgeolli and waving his hand. Belle, again, poured the next cup of makgeolli for him. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you’ll never see either of them again.”

The room turned sour, curdled like milk.

Even Seokjin’s punchable smile flickered away as his movements paused. “You wouldn’t kill a child.”

Jungkook paused purposefully, allowing Seokjin to grow reluctant before glancing at Belle. “No, I wouldn’t. But that’s not the point, is it?” He asked and looked over at Akira. “I lost my marriage over a spy break-in. But you can kill a spy, hide it and hope no one finds out. A child. Knowing that your spouse went out of their way to make a new family for themselves. Because they were too ashamed to commit even if it meant their entire cause depended on it. That is quite the betrayal.”

Akira raised her chin, staying silent. “I want my son back.”

Seokjin took a breath. “Akira—”

“—in return, the Zaher family will break its alliance with Holangi Pa.” Akira didn’t spare a slight glance to Seokjin. Despite her run-down expression, her words cut like a poisoned knife through the room. And Seokjin couldn’t say a word.

The Zaher family had every power and right to protect Akira’s son. Seokjin offered her family nothing of value and Akira made her choice clear. Her son over her husband.

“Of course.” Jungkook nodded, trying to hide the feeling of triumph in his chest blooming like fresh flowers. “Show her the way, please.” He spoke to Belle.

Belle bowed to them. “This way, Ms. Zaher.”

Seokjin kept his expression hardened as he drunk another sip of the makgeolli. “It seems I’ve been given a taste of what you’re capable of.”

“I wish you didn’t have to,” Jungkook said.

“Namjoon, do you say you’re comfortable working with Jungkook?” Seokjin’s gaze flickered to Namjoon but unlike Jungkook, he took Seokjin’s comments with a cool expression. “After what his grandfather did to those soldiers.”

“What I decide to do is none of your business, Seokjin.” Namjoon tilted his head. “You’re not anyone’s don.”

“This isn’t finished. I still have Hebi Pa.” Seokjin stood to his feet and tried to make way to the door but Jungkook and Namjoon’s men blocked the path. “You kill me now, Hebi Pa will just strike right back at you. This time they probably won’t be so kind to offer you another marriage.”

If Jungkook had ended it here, all his troubles would float away. Even his bargain with Namjoon would dissipate. But it was Namjoon who spoke first.

“Let him go.”

Seokjin smiled as one of Namjoon’s guards slid the paper door open and he walked away.

“I could’ve given you my part of the deal,” Jungkook said, confused.

“But I don’t want a gang war,” Namjoon replied. “This has been on the low for a while, we can’t let it burst.”

Namjoon was right. Especially after that scuffle to get Taehyung and Angel, they really had to keep things as discreet as possible. But if risking a gang war meant seeing that smile disappear, Jungkook may have considered it.

Instead he sighed. “Another time.”

Jimin snuck into Don Takahashi’s bedroom in the dark of night. One of his younger mistresses slept next to him but he knew how to sneak into places without being noticed. Gaia knew that. Perhaps more than Jimin would’ve liked it.

A small knife through the neck was all it took. Takahashi only had a few minutes of staying awake, round eyes opened as he realized the incision but the choking of blood had him still and guzzling.

Jimin didn’t look back as he snuck out of the room.

The mistress’ scream led to chaos and chaos led to a quiet funeral. Gaia wore an elegant black dress and her short curls ended just at her jawline. She kept a neutral expression but a white handkerchief hung at her gloved hand.

Everyone gave their grievances with a hint of congratulations as the title of Don was now hers.

They returned to Gaia’s household as the afternoon sun was high in the sky. White handkerchief thrown on the couch and gloves strewn away as Gaia moved to the bar and poured herself a glass of whiskey with a squeeze of lemon.

“Do you not feel remorse for losing your father?” Jimin asked.

“I was a name on an alliance sheet for my father,” she said. “I had many siblings who were shipped off to another gang, unknown and unheard of. I will not do the same and be someone else’s pawn. Not anymore.” She took her first sip and looked out the window, her expression still unchanged. “You can leave now.”

Jimin hesitated. Force of habit had him leaving but he pressed his feet to the floor. Woods stuck on his tongue. He turned quietly and stared at her for a moment. Remembered how he used to admire the way she looked out into the view, like she wished for anything but this yet relished in what she had. “Everything I did and said wasn’t scripted, Gaia.”

“Does it help you sleep at night when you look at it that way?” Gaia asked. The sun made her eyes look bright green and venomous but her voice was sweet.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jimin said. “I don’t have anything to survive with if I wasn’t with Seokjin.”

Her eyes then flickered to him, the venomous look turned hurt and angry. “You don’t think I don’t know what this world is like? I’d have given you anything if you’d just. . .noticed.” Her voice cracked slightly. With a scoff, Gaia looked back at the window with a defeated sigh. “Get out of my sight.”

Jimin took a breath to speak but stopped. Guilt choked any defense that tried to push through because she was right. Jimin had gotten so close to Gaia that there could’ve been a better place for him. More than, Jimin knew that his feelings were becoming true. Yet he was frightened. A coward who needed to run back to the wings that found him. With that thought, he bowed and walked away.

Belle and Jungkook returned to the estate deep into the night. The meeting took out more of her energy than she wanted to and it didn’t help that she was made to go back to Jungkook’s household. She immediately made her way into the guestroom and settled on top of the soft bed. She heard footsteps behind her come closer.

Jungkook stood in front of her and knelt to the floor. He reached out and gently pulled off her shoes, releasing the aching feeling of her feet.

“Stop,” she whispered.

“You caused me a big victory today.” Jungkook caressed the pads of her feet, massaging them to feel better and Belle had to resist the urge to hum in pleasure.

“You did the talking.”

“Still, thank you.” Jungkook’s voice kept to the soft movements of his hands. “And I’m sorry. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met and it often scares me.”

Belle blinked slowly, trying to hide how much her heart fluttered.

Jungkook got up to his feet. “Good night.” He walked out of the room.

Belle took a shower and dressed into her white cotton nightgown. She looked at her empty bed. Silent treatments were for couples who wanted to last. There was no point in being angry at someone Belle never expected to be better. So with a sigh, she walked over to Jungkook’s bedroom.

Jungkook was sleeping, shirtless and rested on his stomach. His back lifted and dipped from each deep breath.

Belle climbed on the other side of the bed and snuck under the blankets. She snuggled into the pillows, closed her eyes and rested quietly.

Jungkook shifted and turned around. He pulled Belle closer to his chest, kissing her cheeks and her forehead then her lips. His arm snuck underneath her, wrapping around her completely until she felt safe and warm.

Belle climbed on top of him, straddling him. Palms pressed against his chest, the comfortable patterns of his heartbeat bringing her a sense of calm. She leaned in and kissed him. Soft and tender.

Jungkook’s hands rode up her dress, gripping at her thighs as Belle deepened the kiss. He sat up and placed Belle on her back, her head near the end of the bed. Jungkook pressed wet kisses down her neck and chest, pulling down her sleeves and suckling on her breasts. Pleasure bloomed through her body in a way that felt like leaning over the edge of a cliff. But it was enticing and lovely.

Belle turned them over again, pushing down his soft pants. She caressed her wet core against his length, making him groan.

Jungkook pressed his nails into her skin as Belle smiled.

Belle lifted herself and sunk onto his length. Wet and snug but it sent her to madness. Being full of him left her breathless. Belle gyrated her hips, pressing her palms on his lower belly. The luxurious bed began to squeak under the pressure. Belle trembled as she slowed down her pace, making Jungkook moan.

Jungkook intertwined his fingers to hers as Belle began to bounce on him. He cupped her cheeks before wrapped his arms around her hips, latching his hands, fucking into her. Belle let out a pleased whimper, shaking along the rhythm as the bed screeched violently.

Jungkook ran along the edge of his orgasm, pushing into her as he came to his climax, filling her to the brim.

Belle let out a pleased sigh.

Jungkook snuck his hand between her legs as he made them sit up. He rubbed her clit, driving her to an orgasm until her legs began to shake. Jungkook held her close while she was breathless, flushed and pleased.

Belle hid her face in his chest, following her breath with the sounds of his heartbeat. She lifted herself and kissed him.

Jungkook brushed his fingers through her hair, his gaze so deep and loving that Belle felt the weight of it, pushing her down.

Belle cupped his cheek before he kissed her forehead, making her melt into his embrace. It was so soft and intimate.

And so so dangerous.

Akira kept Kaito incredibly close to her for the next few hours. He slept on her lap, unharmed but drained by all the events. She would be angered by Jungkook’s brashness but she knew better than to blatantly blame people with stupidity. She was raised smarter than that. All this happened because of Seokjin’s brashness. He flew too close to the sun and targeted the wrong people. People who could easily tear them apart if they wanted.

They arrived back home, quiet and distant.

Akira cupped Kaito’s cheeks and kissed him on the forehead. “Take him to the next room for a moment, please. I’ll be with you as soon as possible, I promise.” She spoke that with her heart. She was never keeping him in a separate place again.

Kaito nodded with a smile as a guard gently guided him away.

“Give him anything he needs,” she said.

Seokjin smiled as Kaito walked out of the room as he left but as always it was never genuine. It was never anything.

As the door closed, Akira began to speak. “I’ve believed that I have done most things a good wife would do. Perhaps I’m too formal and not cheery enough to keep one’s interest piqued but I’ve done my best with the situation we’re in.”

Seokjin’s expression softened. “Akira, what I did had nothing to do with my lack of feelings for you.”

“That doesn’t resolve our dilemma.” Akira’s voice cut through Seokjin’s relaxed demeanour. “What I said to Jungkook was a proper promise.”

“You want to break this alliance.” His tone turned serious. “After all these years.”

“It may seem surprising to you but I don’t prefer having an unfaithful husband. Regardless of what his intentions were. And it honestly surprises me that you’d think I’d stay with you after what’s happened. I accepted your proposal for marriage out of my own interests, it was no trophy or benefit on my part.” Akira explained as best as she could. “But people like you always forget that. This is why you burn out first.”

Seokjin’s throat bobbed up and down before coughing. “What about Kaito?”

“He will understand what needs to be done,” Akira said.

Seokjin coughed again, pouring himself a glass of water. “He needs a father.”

“And he will have one. I will find one. It just won’t be you.”

Seokjin scoffed, shoulders shaking.

“Goodbye, Seokjin. I wish you would’ve just appreciated the family you had. The family that loved you.” Akira turned away and walked out of the room.

Seokjin tried to speak out her name but he coughed again, body lurching until he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Blood spurted out of him and stained the dark wood floor.

He saw footsteps coming closer to him. “Akira.”

But they were dark boots, large boots yet unusually quiet.

Seokjin stared up at the figure and saw Taehyung.

“You should watch who pours drinks for you,” Taehyung said.

Seokjin choked out a sound but more blood spurted out. He wanted to yell out for the guards but Taehyung’s hand moved quickly with the knife. Within seconds, Seokjin was gone and any trace of Taehyung dissipated. Tigers were good at what they did.

“It’s a popular venom Cho No Su uses to get rid of bad customers,” Angel said as she sat with Belle in their new room. The rain pattered outside and Taehyung returned, immediately rushing to clean the blood off him and change into new clothes. “I only used it once but some older workers had to use it every month.”

Belle hugged her knees to her chest, looking at the pack suitcases next to them. “You’ll never have to do that again. Go somewhere far away and forget what happened here.”

Angel nodded. “Thank you for this. You didn’t have to.”

“Don’t thank me, there were still conditions to the deal.”

“Still, anyone else would’ve taken information and left it alone.” Angel smiled. “Thank you.”

Belle didn’t know how much she deserved to be thanked for anything. Everything she did up until now was low and underhanded. Investigating was one thing but poisoning and turning over an entire gang with a succession crisis was another thing entirely. Not only that but her time in Yeou Pa was coming to an end. She had to pull away now or she’d never leave.

The deed was done. Jungkook won. All with the help of Belle. He clinked glasses with Yoongi and Rosyne, drank with them and celebrated but Belle was nowhere to be seen. It was only when Yoongi and Rosyne opted to leave for their houses that she appeared, a little drenched by the rain.

Belle straightened her position and intertwined her fingers together. “Our job here is done,” she said.

Jungkook’s heart squeezed within itself, panging in pain. “What’re you talking about?”

“My job was to help you take down Seokjin. That is what I did and now we can part ways,” Belle said, still keeping that neutral tone.

“You and I both know this was more than job.” Jungkook spoke through gritted teeth. “If this is still about what I said to you.”

“Your words shouldn’t have any impact on me,” Belle said. “That was never part of the plan and I will not intend to encourage it for a future that cannot happen under any circumstances.”

“Why the hell not?”

“I cannot be yours if you are here. Your family broke my family, Jungkook and for nothing else but profit. That can never be forgiven or reversed.” Belle shook her head.

“What if I help your mother and grandmother?” Jungkook was soft and almost desperate. “Bring them back to their feet.”

“They’re not your charity cases and I will not have my mother be indebted to you after what she’s been through.” Belle stepped back. “This needs to end.”

“You can’t leave.” Jungkook pursed his lips together. I don’t want you to leave. I need you here. “You know too much about the gang.”

Belle raised her chin. “So you’re going to kill me?”

Jungkook gulped. How easy it was to assume so. It wasn’t as if he’d proven himself not to throw threats in people’s way.

“Do it.”

Jungkook’s stomach dropped.

Belle held onto the knife in her boot and wrapped it in Jungkook’s hand, pressing the tip against her chest. “All the information dies with me. You can preserve your precious power and legacy when I’m done. But if I live, I won’t stop. No matter what.”

Jungkook was scared. Scared because he considered it. He thought about it just for his own survival. Then it slipped out of him. “I love you.”

It was worse than a stab. It was probably worse than death. The words lingered in the air, curdling it like spoiled milk yet still felt so sweet.

Jungkook took the knife away and placed it on the table.

“Take it back.”

“I’ve never lied to you, Belle. I won’t start now.”

“You have no idea what love is,” Belle seethed. “If you knew even for a moment, things would be different but they aren’t. So take it back.”

“No.”

Belle grabbed the knife and pointed the tip of his neck. “You don’t feel that way, you’re lying. People like you manipulate people like me all the time.”

“Then pretend it’s a lie. But I’m not taking it back.”

Belle pressed the knife further into his skin but pulled away. “You’re a coward just like your father.” Her voice cracked as she walked out of the room.

All Jungkook could do was smile. It was a lowly insult, below Belle. It was both a soft brush against his cheek and crack in his heart realizing what she wanted to say.

I love you too.

Gaia watched Seokjin’s body get taken away in his coffin while Akira stood quietly, touching Kaito’s shoulder. She couldn’t hug him quite yet since he was more than just her son now. He was the leader for Holangi Pa.

Jimin stood next to her, frozen in place. “We know who did this.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Gaia said. “Akira won’t look for vengeance and niether should you. Don’t be stupid.”

“We can’t just let them get away with it.”

“And what’re you going to do? Kill Jungkook, then get killed and rinse and repeat? Seokjin started this and his death finishes it. Calm yourself.” Gaia narrowed her gaze.

Jimin’s chest rose and fell.

As they returned to Gaia’s house again, Jimin stayed with his pout throughout the trip.

Gaia let out an annoyed sigh. “I think I preferred when you were faking your feelings for me. You were so much more alive and leading.”

Jimin sighed. “You had your father killed. I never had one, Seokjin was the closest to family I was given.”

Gaia pressed her lips together. “Well, you can grieve in your new freedom now.”

Jimin stared at her curiously. “What?

“Seokjin’s death means you’re of no threat to me. I’ll give you some funds and land. So you can be a free man and grieve your family that you love so much.” Gaia waved her hand as she sat herself on the couch.

Jimin hesitated, thinking for a moment to step away and be free. “You’re setting me free? Why?”

Gaia stared at him, scoffing while shaking her head. “You are a bumbling fool sometimes.”

Seokjin would provide many things for him. Anything he ever needed but freedom was never in question. Jimin wasn’t stupid. He knew he wasn’t free but not being free meant he got a meal and a house at the end of the day. Yet Gaia was giving him freedom. Not just freedom but money to start a life of his own. Jimin wanted to feel thrilled and grateful but he just felt more guilty than usual.

Despite all the things he had done to express his loyalty to Seokjin, Gaia still showed her love for him.

Jimin turned away from the door and walked to the bar, filled a small glass of whiskey and squeezed a lemon. He walked over and handed it to her. “I can still visit if you’d like me to.”

Gaia had a small smile on her face. “If you keep bringing me drinks, sure.”

Belle kept replaying the words over and over again in her head. The tips of her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She already had articles ready for publishing, piling up in the attempt to distract herself but there was no denying the voice in her head.

Shaking her head, Belle picked up the articles and walked into Hoseok’s office. She placed the papers on the table.

“All of these for Yeou Pa?” Hoseok asked.

Belle nodded. “It’s now or never.”

Hoseok sighed as he read through the words. “You know I can’t publish all of this. Yeou Pa is connected to other organizations that aren’t criminal. We’d be accusing them of association.”

Anger flooded through her.

“Maybe it’s good to take a break and come back. I know it’s been difficult.”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m telling you as a friend. The situation has changed.”

Belle sat down with a deep breath. “What about the underground newsletters?” She asked. “It’ll warn the organizations to lay low and I’ll use my own name.”

Hoseok’s expression softened. “It could work.”

“She didn’t miss a single thing,” Yoongi said, a sense of amazement behind his words as they were given the newsletters under Belle’s name. “She’s making us go silent.”

Not burning the empire but quietly corroding it. Jungkook would be forced to look back on his records as journalists and undercover police start linking business to him. It’s chaos without the fireworks.

Jungkook rested back on his chair. “Rosyne, how long will this take to ensure no tracking?”

“Months. Our profits will lower significantly,” Rosyne said.

“We could take care of Belle to send a message.” Yoongi raised his shoulders.

Jungkook narrowed his gaze but Yoongi only smiled. “Get started. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Rosyne bowed and walked out of the room. Yet Yoongi stayed, staring at Jungkook for a moment before sighing.

“You’ll get used to it,” Yoongi said. “Knowing you can never have something normal and comfortable like that.” His tone turned unusually serious before he left the room too.

Jungkook was left with a sinking feeling. He should’ve known nothing would come of it and if something did happen, it wouldn’t be good. But he sank anyway, so deep into the ocean that he just wanted to drown to make it easy.

In the end, Belle won and he lost.

Belle came back to her mother and grandmother’s home after her day at work. It was a small, quaint place but her grandmother kept the garden alive with yellow and red blossoms.

When she walked in, there was a warm scent of spiced meat and fresh rice.

Her mother sat at the television, turning her head slightly towards Belle before smiling softly. “You’re home.” She smiled though vacantly.

Belle leaned in and kissed the top of her head.

Her grandmother appeared from the kitchen, her skin glistening from the steam. “Good, you’re here. Food is just finished.”

Belle’s stomach already rumbled for some lovingly cooked food. She sat at the counter as her grandmother handed her a bowl of warm soup, rice and spiced meat.

“So. . .did you do it?” her grandmother asked.

Belle looked up at her, before sipping on her soup and feeling her belly warm. The familiar airs of her home loosened her body. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. But there was no denying that she had a victory. And she would hold onto it with her life. “I did it.”

Her grandmother hummed. “Well done.”

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