#i know where the pg common room is now

[defectivegembrain]

Person: *tells me their name*

Me: Oh, nice to meet you!

Me: *silence*

Helpful social skills mouse living in my head that's awake from time to time: They want to know your name now!

[theealbatross]

kiss me (s.s.)

Plot | You fought, kissed, and made up. But it could never be that easy.

or, Sebastian took two steps forward and three steps back.

Tags | insecurities, social pressures, obsessive tendencies, slytherin!reader, dark!seb and reader if you squint, but not really, underage drinking (theyre all 16-18 in this), they're just crazy about each other and can't tell anyone, kissing (duh) nothing too PG, happy ending?, read 4k words and figure it out, if the end made you scream say 'aye'

[ 6th Year ]

“Spin that fucking bottle!”

If you had known what absolute monstrosity you would create when you introduced muggle sleepover games to your housemates you would’ve gone to bed early.

But now, you were surrounded by drunk, nosy, Slytherins that were dead-set on exposing each other’s most embarrassing secrets. No one was safe.

“Imelda!” Everyone cheered, Grace quickly hooked her arms around the other girl’s neck when she tried to escape.

The party had long since been over, most of the students from other houses had already retired to their own rooms but those who had friends in Slytherin (like Poppy and Natty) or were too drunk to journey back to the spiraling staircases of their houses safely (like Everett and Samantha) decided to sober up for a while in the Quidditch Grand Champion’s common room.

“Are you actually as mean as you pretend to be or do you just not know how to make friends,” Natty slurred, pointing and wagging a finger at her.

If she was in a better constitution, she would’ve been able to brush off that accusation easily and with confidence but a dozen of improved (thanks Garreth) Firewhiskey shots later and the ever-guarded Imelda flushed in embarrassment to the surprise of everyone. The small circle burst out laughing, Imelda pushed Grace away in annoyance.

“It’s okay, ‘melda. We love you as you are!” Poppy was definitely still hammered.

“Next, next, next!”

The bottle spun and spun but your eyes were at the boy who had just returned from tucking Ominis in their shared dorm. You smiled up at him as he sat in the reserved space available just for him right beside you. “Omi?” you mouthed.

He squeezed your hands, silently letting you know your lightweight friend was now safely tucked in his own bed and ready to welcome the worst hangover he had ever known tomorrow.

“Well, well, well! Our brilliant, beloved, beater!”

It was when you turned your eyes back down on the ground that you saw that the mouth of the bottle was now undoubtedly pointed at Sebastian.

“Mate, I just got here!”

The crowd booed, Sebastian receiving light punches and playful jeers. “It’s the rules, Sallow!”

Everyone looked at you expectantly, the false inventor of such guidelines. You smirked, shrugging, “Rules are rules.”

Sebastian gaped at the betrayal. He gave you a look that lets you know he’ll get you back for this, even secretly poking your waist sharply. You didn’t like the way your housemate’s eyes glinted at the small interaction. Oh no.

“Alright, Alright,” Garreth shushed the crowd with two outstretched hands. “I have the million galleon question! I’m sure everyone will praise my genius for it!”

“Get on with it already!”

The Gryffindor threw a drunken glare at the voice from the back of the common room. “Now, I’m sure our dear Sebastian, despite receiving many letters of admiration and flutters of pretty lashes –”

“Gross,” Imelda grumbled.

“—has yet to officially court someone!” Garreth announced, arms stretched wide like he was a ringmaster about to start his greatest show. Everyone oo-ed and ahh-ed and cheered.

You didn’t like where this was going.

Sebastian, for all the eyes that were on him, managed to maintain the small smile on his cocky face.

It was true. You were not blind to the … physical developments he had undergone the last two years nor to the attention it had garnered him. The boy you had sneaked around Hogwarts with in your fifth year had disappeared and was replaced by a man. An unfairly tall, tanned, attractive man. You damn near walked past him again if he had not pulled you to his side on your first day during your 6th year.

You weren’t ignorant of it, nor were you dumb enough to deny your attraction to your friend.

But you are a lady. And his friend.

His most trusted, beloved friend (his words not yours).

You’d rather not risk your lifelong connection if he won’t. You know how to read between the lines as blurry as it had become. He’s lost too much and you refuse to become another scar in his soul. The both of you have had enough of that to last you till the next lifetime.

“So, my question is,” your eyes widened when you felt two hands on each of your shoulders, in your deep reverie you have failed to notice Garreth sneaking behind your back or that all conniving eyes and raised eyebrows were now on you.

Sebastian smiled.

“Kiss, Marry, Kill.”

[ 7th Year ]

It was by incredible luck that your 7th year of Hogwarts called for the Triwizard tournaments to be held in Hogwarts.

You were prepared to enjoy the event in relative peace. Happy that for once you would be the spectator of all the action instead of being the one in the middle of it.

Life just can’t make it that easy for you.

You did not even realize that Sebastian of all people had thrown his name in as consideration until he had been called and your dreams of a quiet last year in Hogwarts were shot to the depths of hell. It was the first time in a while that you felt true fear, the type that froze all your blood solid.

The fight that followed in the Undercroft was explosive.

“How could you be so reckless, Sebastian?! People die in these games! Why would you do this?!”

Just the thought of it makes your stomach sink. Sebastian will be front and center of this bloody battle of pride that is broadcasted to the entire wizarding world. It was different when it was the two of you jumping through all types of danger – this time you won’t be able to help him. He will be alone.

Yet, when you had expected a valid explanation and a plan out of all this madness he instead looked at you with such anger and vitriol that you physically flinched.

“Because I am sick of being just your friend!” Even Ominis pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning on. Foreseeing a tragedy about to uncontrollably unroll. “I’m constantly surrounded by you two! Ominis Gaunt, the scion of the purest bloodline in the wizarding world, the Heir of Slytherin who could do no wrong! How brilliant!”

He cackled a laugh, he looked like a man at the brink of insanity. How long had he been holding on to these thoughts?

“And you!”

“Sebastian enough –” Ominis tried to cut through his mania but he wasn’t having any of it. Once the words were out, there was no taking them back in. He was cursed – he will have to see it through.

“Famed Hero of Hogwarts,” each word was dripped in poison, the insecurities bubbling inside him caused him to lash out at anyone and everyone who dared question his decision. How could they understand? How would they understand a nobody? “Do you know how tired I am of being in your shadow?”

He felt the sting before he heard it, the slap drowned the Undercroft in silence. Then, the weight of his grave words sunk in. The green haze in his head cleared just to see the boiling tears falling down your distraught face.

What has he –

“Then let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian,” your face crumpled, physically pained by such cruelty from your dearest companion. “You’re on your own this time.”

That had been months ago, aside from the few classes you had together he had not even seen you anywhere else. Not even in the first game when he had sent you an owl begging you for a chance to apologize and dedicating his win to you. The victory over the other contestants tasted bitter when he couldn’t find your face in the celebrating crowd.

And the pit in his chest turned into a black hole when he caught Ominis at the edge of the celebration shaking his head. She didn’t come. He’s lost her.

Ominis refused to help him – not that he deserved any. In retrospect, it was ... silly – the insecurities he had been shamefully hiding. He knew his friends had never seen him short of an equal but it’s difficult to see the good when the entire world is looking down at you with cruel, disapproving eyes when your back is turned. Cruel whispers they made sure only he could hear.

“I thought he’d live somewhere more posh.” “Sallow? Dating her? That’s preposterous he’s an orphan with barely a galleon to his name.” “Why do you think they keep him around?”

It was stupid and irrational and he handled it in the worst possible way. Lashed out at the one person who least deserved it, who went through hell to drag him back out, then benevolently tended to all the wounds and scars in his humanity till he was himself again.

“Let me free you of such shadow, Sebastian.”

He slammed his head on the wall he was leaning on, the heartbreaking image of her distressed face was a nightmare that had chased him awake or asleep.  Sebastian may deserve this but you most definitely didn’t. He never deserved you.

Yet, here he was, sitting on the floor of the Ravenclaw Tower with a wilted bouquet of wildflowers he had picked before breakfast, hoping he could catch her somehow. He ignored the giggles, snickers, and confused questions thrown his way no matter how embarrassed he felt. He wasn’t moving from this spot until he can apologize – the silent treatment was torture worse than Crucio. And he had been hit with one.

At the first sound of the walls transforming, he was already up on his feet, his hands instinctively brushing his hair as if looking presentable would even out his chances of repairing his most treasured friendship.

The door opened and finally, your eyes met his. The tension was something that would choke even the greediest puffskein. Your eyes were wide, unblinking and your lips were pursed in a fine line that communicated how much you loathed being in his presence. He hopes you know that you could never hate him as much as he hated himself at this very moment.

“For you!” It was only when it was being offered to you did he realize how abysmal the dying bouquet he had been carrying in his hands since this morning looked. But it was too late now, she was already here, looking at the flower then back to him and all the lines he had practiced flew out of his head.

Instead, he just fell to his knees, prostrating, tears already threatening to fall down his face. He had never been an honorable man. “Sebastian! Get up!”

“I will do anything you ask me to,” The feel of her touch made his skin tingle. After months of not even catching your eyes or hearing your voice and it was more than worth it to suffer through all this humiliation just for this moment. Even if you may never forgive him at least he could apologize. He’ll have a better last moment with you than your fight. “I’ll win the games. I’ll quit. I’ll drop out of Hogwarts if that’s what you want just, please … forgive me.”

He felt your arms wrap around him but he was too distraught, barely comprehending that you had somehow pulled him back into the room until the two of you fell on the ground and the door of the room slammed shut. Still, he continued sobbing in your arms, his arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he drenched your neck with his anguished tears. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Sebastian wasn’t playing fair but your forgiveness was a prize he was willing to cheat to earn. There would be no point of honor if he lost you – anyone else but you.

“It wasn’t anything you did. It was me,” he sobbed. “I just – you and Ominis became such incredible people that I realized it was me who had not become anyone. I am a nobody!”

“Sebastian that is just not true –”

“It’s moronic I know! But I just thought … if I could win these games … if I could stop being just myself and be a champion then I can finally earn the spot beside you.”

It was embarrassing to admit all that, the deep insecurities that had festered inside of him the moment he was finally faced with the reality of the world. That he was surround by great people who has and will achieve great things and he was … him. A failure, a murderer, a burden.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” your cold voice woke him up from his self-lashings.

He sniffed, nodding, finally finding the strength and shame to sit up on his knees in front of you. “I … I really am so sorry.”

He pinched his eyes shut, preparing himself for the worst. His nails digging in his palm in an effort to stop it from shaking. However, it took one touch of your palms to break through all his pretenses. “I forgive you.”

He crumbled in relief, jumping into your open arms in a mess of tears, snot, and even more apologies.

“I know, I know,” you shushed him, hands tight even as he soaked your shirt through. “Ominis talked to me and … Sebastian you really are so silly. What do you mean you're a nobody? You're the top student in our year! So much so that all those Ravenclaws have declared you their enemy. You're the greatest beater in our generation that even I have been receiving owls begging me to somehow convince you to play for their team when you graduate! I can't even imagine how many times I would have gotten in trouble or straight-up died if it wasn't for you! I swear you're so fucking daft sometimes!”

He nodded eagerly, taking any jabs you may have if it meant you were talking to him. Even if it was still difficult for him to accept that any of those achievements you dictated could ever surmount to what you had achieved he knew it wasn't smart to try and correct it now when you had just forgiven his transgressions. “Stupid, stupid, boy.”

It was there in that room that your fractured friendship was mended with a bunch of dead flowers and Sebastian’s tears.

To celebrate, you had produced a couple of leftover Hogshead Brew for the two of you to enjoy till you were tipsy enough to forget the past horrible months without each other and were now giggling to each other’s face as if to make up for all the laughs you were owed in the months of silence.

“Lay back down, your eyes are going to be swollen shut.”

He’s been crying so hard for so long that he was too tired to do anything but follow your words, laying at the center of the bed you’ve conjured and sighing at the warm cloth you pressed on his eyes that miraculously stopped the world from spinning.

If he thinks too hard about the shameful faces he had shown you, he fears he’s going to combust, instead he focused on the rake of your nails on his hair, the familiar scent of your perfume he had given to you as a gift for your birthday last year, and the weight of your head as you laid on his stomach while the alcohol coursed through his body.

“You shouldn’t quit.”

He folded the cloth in one eye to take a peek at you. You giggled sweetly, clearly taking the drink harder than him, and gods above did he miss it. His happiness was cut short however when you crawled over the length of his body and instead plopped next to him, your head resting on his outstretched arm.

Physical affection wasn’t new to the two of you – after what you had been through hugs and holding hands were something the two of you found comfort in, a reminder that despite everything, the two of you made it out together – but after a few months without it he was faced with the realization of how unconventionally intimate your friendship truly was.

“Like I said, Ominis explained to me how you’ve been feeling – only another man would ever understand a bruised man’s ego. And if this is what’s going to make you feel better then I will support you till the end.” He turned his head so he can look at your eyes. When you cupped his face he felt his gut curl on itself from adoration. “But make no mistake Sebastian, the two of us have always been equals. We’re kindred spirits, remember?”

Kindred spirits, he thought. He remembers the first time he called the two of you that -- something a little cheeky for the first witch who didn't sneer in disgust at the prospects of his less than favorable past time. The curiosity in your eyes then was one he had seen in his own, even then he had this funny feeling that you were going to get along very well.

If he only knew how right he was, he would've thought he was a prodigy in divination.

A tear once again pebbled at the memory but just as he closed his eyes ready to wipe it away you were already sitting up, throwing the wet cloth and pressing a kiss on the edge of it. Sebastian sucked in a breath, blinking to see you hovering over him now. He’s never seen you this zealous. The passion in your eyes is almost mirroring his own.

It would seem whatever was in that brew had smashed through your inhibitions and his pride as he let you continue peppering kisses all over his face.

“You are very precious to me,” she whispered fondly, her gaze soft, drunk and adoring then it turned dark, an emotion crossed your face that he’d only seen when you had been fighting the meanest of foes. “I’d blow this entire school up before I let any of them think they could take your place in my life.”

Sebastian shuddered, his entire body burning under your gaze.

Leaning over again, you pressed another kiss on his other eyelid. “I won’t allow anyone to take you away from me.”

On his forehead. “And you are not allowed to leave me. I forbid it, Sebastian.”

As pathetic as it was, the words were everything he needed to hear. The possession healing over all his insecurities like a balm.

He has always been a selfish lad. His parents and everything he had ever known were ripped away from him at too early of an age that it made him realize that he needed to protect Anne because she was all he had but even that exploded spectacularly into a tragedy.

And then he met you and finally, finally, he met his person. Someone who was seemingly made just for him. Someone who understood him for all his secrets and flaws and still called him a friend.

However, it would seem that he was cursed of a cruel fate. Because the one person who was supposed to be just his turned out to be the most sought-after witch of their generation with the type of magic that had not been seen in centuries. At first, it didn’t matter, he was confident of his place in your life. But as the two of you grew up, the reality that your position in society were skies apart was when his insecurities began to painfully blossom.

But this … it was nice to be claimed like this. To be able to hear and see the crazed obsession he had only seen in his own reflection be mirrored by the one person he needed it from the most. The whole world can laugh behind his back, it didn’t matter anymore. The most brilliant witch in history is in this bed with him, kissing all his insecurities away and branding him as hers.

He chuckled but was cut short when you pressed a softer kiss just by the edge of his smile. His heart threatened to pound out of his chest, his ears failing to hear anything else but the next words out of your mouth. “Do you understand me, Sebastian?”

It has never been clearer: she is his.

“You are mine.”

With her final words, Sebastian’s brain seems to finally function again. A surge of alcohol and courage caused him to raise his limbs to cup your face, pulling you closer and closer so he could finally do what he had been dreaming about since your first duel.

A kiss. A promise. The final bind that would lock your souls together forevermore.

You gasped, smiling through the kiss before you plopped your entire body on top of his, your body finally getting overwhelmed by the alcohol and all that has happened in the past hours – knocking you straight into a dreamless sleep.

For the first time in a long, long while, he was at peace.

The two of you may never remember this moment but he’ll know it in his soul. In this dim room, surrounded by her scent, and her skin, and her kisses – he has finally found where he belongs and who belonged to him.

He pulled you into him – tighter, closer. It didn’t matter, you were his.

Only his.

“Guess we made up?”

When you woke up Sebastian was already lounging in the ottoman by the end of the bed, casually reading a book while you were crawling towards him with your blanket over your head and suffering through a hangover.

If not for the redness in his eyes you would’ve thought you hallucinated his teary apologies.

He was quick to open up his form, grabbing a decorative pillow for you as you laid down on his lap dramatically. You don’t remember much but you knew enough that the big fight was forgotten and forgiven.

“Guess so, darling,” he chuckled nonchalantly, back to his cool, charming self as if he hadn’t been a crybaby in your arms just yesterday.

‘Darling’? That’s new.

You grinned, letting him pet you. You weren’t complaining, not being friends with Sebastian felt wrong and it was a miracle you stood your ground as hard as you did.

“Aren’t I so gracious, dear?” you teased, poking his stomach to make him flinch. The two of you laughed. “What happened after I popped out that blasted poison from Hogshead?”

When you try to comb through your memories your headache fights back with a vengeance so you had hoped he would supply the blank pages in your mind.

He stared at you for a beat before sighing, looking truly as miffed as you. “I wish I remembered, I’m in the dark as much as you.”

And as much as he knows it was wrong to not try to remember, he also knew he wouldn’t be able to live through the embarrassment of what he might’ve been telling you while he was drunk and emotional again. It was a mistake but he was more than happy to let those blank memories remain blank. What’s important is that you are friends again.

“Let’s focus on the future now, hm? No sense digging through what would definitely be an embarrassing moment for me,” he groaned, pinching your cheeks when you gave him a teasing smile.

You hesitated, biting your lip but then nodded. “If you say so.” It was in the past after all.

Sebastian was glad you let it go. (He will regret this in years to come.)

“Speaking of futures, I had wanted to ask you,” he played with the short strands of your hair, heart full of adoration as he looked down at your face. “Go to the Yule Ball with me? Gotta have a pretty date for this year.”

You dramatically gasped, “The Future Triwizard Champion asking little old me? Also, I was your date last year, scoundrel!”

He burst out laughing, you jumped into his arms, pressing a kiss on his cheeks.

His lips tingled, his head ached as it begged him to remember. But then you flashed him that bright smile and nothing else mattered.

“I would love to.”

The two of you were back to what you had once been. It would just be greedy to ask for more.

Right?

[atombombkaytee]

My Echo, My Shadow and Me

Summary: Hancock and I retire to The Third Rail after a long day to find that it’s particularly busy. Still, we manage to find a quiet spot to indulge in heavy flirting, booze and chems. However, I notice a shadowy figure across the room - somehow, neither Hancock or I recognise the stranger (another ghoul). Hancock is keen to introduce himself but the sheer amount of intoxicants we’ve consumed could have the potential to lead to a very interesting evening.

Pairings: Hancock x Female OC/Reader, Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Female OC/Reader

Warnings: (This first part is largely PG but we will see - in future parts - all of the following) Heavy alcohol/drug use, public groping, smut, MMF threesome, anal.

Part 1.

Occasionally, The Third Rail became so lively that you could easily delude yourself into believing that the bombs had never plummeted from the skies all those years ago. It is only when you're completely sober that you can discern that virtually every person in the vicinity disfigured by the enduring effects of radiation.

Nevertheless, the bustling crowds of sweaty bodies (dancing, laughing, and clinking their glasses without a care in the world) were surely reminiscent of what it was like pre-war. I couldn’t be sure. I was born into this shithole of a world. What would I know about living pre-bombs?  

I grunt a sarcastic chuckle into my pint glass, fogging the edges with my breath. I'm sure it was warmer in pre-war bars than it is here. Being underground in an old railway tunnel helps retain some heat, but there's a subtle yet constant breeze coming from somewhere.

Still, the alcohol helps. As do the masses of bodies. Alcohol helps with a lot of things. Even now, many still use it as a respite from the horrors of daily life. A beautiful dissociative escape, where the only thing that matters is the moment.

Unfortunately, I'm the only sober one tonight. Well, almost. I’ve managed to get one mixer deep, tucked in tight against the bar, waiting for Hancock to join me for a celebration. Today ended much later than we anticipated when a large group of Supermutants seeking revolution entered Boston Common. We dealt with them, of course, but it significantly cut into our relaxation time - something both Hancock and I equally hated. 

The dancing crowd swells behind me, swaying in time to Magnolia’s silky voice. Occasionally, someone brushes against my back. I'm desperate to feel more drunk. I tend to get irritable far more quickly when I'm sober, much like Hancock... maybe that's one of the reasons we've always gotten along. Feeling overstimulated, I swill back the ends of my glass and signal Charlie for another.

Lucky for me, no human could possibly serve booze as fast as that robot. It’s mere seconds before another full pint glass is in my hand and I greedily neck it back. I smile to myself, sensing the warmth in my belly spread into a pleasant haziness behind my eyes. These quadruple shots are certainly doing the trick.

An immense wave of gratitude washes over me as I perceive a hand between my shoulder blades. It unmistakably belongs to someone familiar, amidst the numerous inebriated strangers who have been using me as a prop for the last thirty minutes.

“Hey, dollface… how you holding up?”

He angles his head downwards, drawing himself nearer to me, enabling me to still take in his words amongst the competing sounds of music. In response, I offer a smile, albeit tinged with irony, and he promptly detects the subtle distress reflected in my eyes.

“Oh… well, why the hell are you sitting up here then?”  

With a light-hearted chuckle, he shifts his focus from me to locate Charlie. His hand instinctively wraps around the nape of my neck and delivers a playful squeeze, firm enough to hurt, yet, ultimately, conveying a sense of comfort and protection.

“Charlie - do this ol’ ghoul a favor and hand me that great, big bottle of whiskey - oh - and two glasses, if you’d be so kind?”

I can't help but watch him adoringly as he swoops in to solve all of my problems, like always. I've only spent a little over four months working alongside him, but I'm pretty sure that I'm falling for him. He's courageous yet gentle, sweet yet just, violent yet empathetic. I've come to realize that he's a very intricate person... well, ghoul. And, boy, does he know how to make me feel good.

Ignoring our rather large age gap - human/ghoul relationships aren’t uncommon in the wasteland, although they are generally disapproved of in most settlements. Except here. Here, in Goodneighbor, things are different. Here, Hancock and I can openly celebrate our relationship and relax in public without any judgment. As the Mayor, Hancock receives special privileges that he graciously extends to me. Moreover, the majority of the residents in Goodneighbor are ghouls themselves, and those who are human are generally open-minded outcasts who have found a welcoming home here. It's an ideal situation.

“Follow me…” He murmurs intimately next to my ear. With his palm placed reassuringly on the small of my back, he guides me smoothly through the mass of people - most of whom acknowledge their mayor with a rowdy toast of their glasses.

Once we’re out of the thickest part of the crowd, he grabs hold of my hand and leads me to a dimly lit table for two at the very back of the room. Both the noise level and the number of people are much more bearable here. I plonk myself down on the torn couch - enjoying the coolness of the leather seat against the back of my tired thighs.

“Jesus… thanks for rescuing me, yet again…” I snigger, holding my glass in place while Hancock pours a generous serving of whiskey. The liquid fills the vessel with a rich, golden hue.

“Why the hell is it so busy in here tonight!?”

Hancock puts the whiskey bottle back on the metal table between us with a thud, causing several small white flecks of paint to flutter to the ground. He leans back comfortably against the sofa, draping his spare arm around my shoulder while he surveys the room.

“You tell me, sunshine! Could be since we cleared up those raider gangs last week? Could just be a few more people traveling through.”  

His black eyes glisten and gleam like polished onyx under the sporadic beams of the spotlights that intermittently flash across his face. The aura of pride he exudes is palpable, adding even more charm to his demeanor. Seeking refuge in his presence, I nuzzle closer to the comforting warmth emanating from his body, finding solace as I press my cheek against his faded scarlet duster coat. Meanwhile, I continue to take measured sips from my glass of whiskey, relishing its smooth taste.

The mist brought on by alcohol is steadily encroaching upon my senses. I have firm intentions of becoming extremely drunk, and with Hancock already pouring himself another drink, it seems obvious that he shares that inclination.

(Part 2)

(Part 3)

(Part 4)

[therealslimshakespeare]

Regency Elvis

No I haven’t got a title for the series yet send help

…to seem like cherries in the spring…

Unedited, written today in between work because I have a brain worm with this idea and y’all have been requesting more Honeymoon vibes and while this has no learjets or even smut in this installment, I think I’ll be able to provide that shortly as i build a lead up. So heads up, this story will become quite mature. And dubious. So if that’s not your jam, be aware. For now have 3k of Pg 13 virginal musings on an arranged marriage to a roguish man. 😏

I picture 1973-ish, post divorce Elvis for this era, it’s part of the morose, vampiric kick he was on, he was serving such kitsch and seemed like he was pissed and maybe a tad bitter and I’d really like him to take that out on me so…here we are. Also, I’ll be joyfully ripping off Jane Austen’s writings and Beau Brummell’s life for this, as well as smushing Pre-Raphaelite artists too near to the Napoleonic wars. Also,  I won’t apologize for overusing the word “oneself” to describe…oneself. But this is mainly about being ridden hard by grumpy, divorced and needing an heir Elvis so, let’s not fret over historic details. Lord knows the man may end up having unseen depths, kindly ones, one hopes

It didn’t take one as experienced as yourself and your maid longer than five minutes to don one’s evening gown in private and add the last touches to the arrangement of one’s hair.

You had been gone from your bridal party more than twenty.

Yet no one noticed.

Too busy in the adjoining sitting room discussing your business behind the closed door, such as marriage was a woman’s business, or perhaps your mother knew you needed such peace before stepping out and spending the evening making happy over your engagement.

A Husband.

You were bound to be given to one at some point but that didn’t help one resign oneself to it as much as one might hope. Yet it wasn’t a shock, not if you were being honest and it helped perhaps that he was your father’s acquaintance and that anyone so young and penniless and handsome as to have caught your girlish yearnings beforehand had, in a polite fit of heroism, gone off to France and got themselves summarily pulverized by Napoleon's artillery. Finest cannons in the world, it was said, killed half a generation of young Englishmen in the flower of their youth.

So now, adorned with spring blossoms about your virgin head and stood in your childhood room for close the last time, you hoped those bright young men were pleased with themselves for leaving you in such a lurch.

There were worse fates than marriage to a very wealthy, very reticent, very bewhiskered stranger. Cannon balls to the gut, for instance, or a hussar’s saber to the neck. That’s what you told yourself hourly in these days of lonely, neglected engagement. But according to your mother’s friends, commonly chittering over your head as they readied you for the day and even now in the adjoining room, heedless of your prolonged absence, you were facing a martyrdom of sorts.

“-such rank and such commendations, they are the product of wartime and now that peace is in sight, really Hortencia, what will there be of their social standing? Your poor girl. This match is a disgrace waiting to happen.”

“The Prince is bound to tire of Mr. Presley’s fashions and his sports, then where will the new couple be? Where will you stand? How can you bear it, Hortencia?”

“His commonness aside, it’s in poor taste of him to marry the daughter of one’s investor. It speaks of…of leverage.” This later part was hissed as if it were a terrible scandal.

That was very much the point of your marriage, you had surmised -leverage. But with the slowly tanking fortunes of your own noble family, just about anyone who condescended to marry you would be in a position to be a savior, one might as well have a wealthy and impressive savior, if one was going to be saved, than have a squalid and portly savior, no matter how very royal and inbred his noble blood. Not that the ladies saw it that way.

Common, quite common your groom was, and yet far too wealthy to be ignored. Companion to the Prince Regent, Arbiter of Dandified Refinement and a coal mining tycoon from the country. Filthy rich, passably handsome from your brief observations and rich. Did we already mention that? That he was Rich?

You were going to enjoy a wealthy husband, you were determined, and you were going to aid your poor, cheated parents as best you could in your new wifley position. Which was more than what those chattering crone’s outside could boast in terms of their own daughter’s loyalties or affections.

You dismissed your maid and twirled before the mirror, allowing yourself one last moment of peace and preening -eavesdropping, too- before joining them. You looked very fresh. That much was commendable, you hoped you didn’t look too young or if you did, you had hopes he wouldn’t mind. Not that first impressions mattered much, the engagement settled and the contracts drawn up, but you did so wish to not be spurned. You had only met him once, and you’d been a child then, tiny gloved hand shaking his when you should have been curtseying, he was younger then, too, and happy and gay enough to laugh it off.

That was before her.

You hadn’t met him since, though at times he was at the far upper end of your fathers table or across the room at court or else straddling the enclosures at ascot. But he had been younger then, merrier, less…hairy, less maudlin and less tanned than he was now.

But all of this erstwhile gallant merriment had been witnessed by you from a distance, and you had not seen much of him at all during his brief marriage, his wife’s preferment of town and its vanities grew with his one disillusionment of them. They had taken to the country in what one supposes was an attempt at refocusing. Harmonizing, a chin up try at domesticity and fidelity.

What occurred instead had the whole nation reeling in scandalized shock.

“There are far more unsuitable candidates in the upper echelons of society,” your mothers voice floated in, soft yet strained in her effort to

maintain civility with her supposed friends, “she could do far worse. A girl can grow used to the mature habits of an older man, she does not grow used to cruel caprices of vain peacocks.”

”Hortencia, it is natural to console oneself in the face of tragedy, but dear friend, you are handing your child to a wolf.”

You wanted to snicker at the thought that mother’s friends had waited until days before your wedding to showcase their tender, loving concern. You would be glad to move to the country with your new husband, to leave behind such stupid circles, loneliness on the open moors of Northumbria was welcome compared to the shiny cesspools of London and Bath.

“And his wife not yet dead!” Mrs. Turvydrop would be the one to object to that aspect.

In your occasional fits of honesty regarding the entire situation, you had to admit that the living existence of his divorced young wife, somewhere thriving in the continental Riviera, gave you a mild panic. The church was not at all fond of such breaking of covenants, but the woman had been in the wrong, there was a lover, there was a midnight abandonment of her husband‘s house, and there were the acquittals for manslaughter given to your groom.

Indeed, were it not for this public shame hanging over his otherwise irreproachably fabulous career as a national success at everything he set his hand to, you doubted that Mr. Presley would even consider marrying someone with so little to offer as yourself. Life is full of things we wish were different, and you wished your fiancé did not have a living first wife. So did Mrs. Turvydrop, it seemed, although you doubted the deadness of the previous Lady Presley would have done much good to the reputation of a man so ruggedly unconcerned with convention.

“His wife was adulterous. The Bible and the church give room for such annulments.” Your mother was at the ready, though her voice was weary. “This marriage will be Sanctioned before God, it is all quite proper, I assure you.”

“Indeed, but is he? A prince's companion is no recommendation for a husband.”

“Truly!” Another voice rose up to agree, “it leaves open all sorts of speculation as to what kind of man would drive his young wife to such extremes! She was every bit as sweet and delicate as your child. To have been driven to madness from such a genteel beginning suggests much blame on his part.”

“He is common. What did they expect?”

“Common? He is uncouth, why his taste for food and confectionery is so bizarre as to be nearly repulsive, forget that it is served on gold plates.”

��You could even say, without much speculation, that it serves to reason his marital tastes are similarly appalling.”

“Rough appetites those mining men.” Lydia Carmichael’s voice agreed and you laid your hand on the knob, knowing your procrastination was inexcusable but far too invested in the subject being discussed to think of interrupting. “What if he -what if he’s brutish?”

“Yes!” Countess Jessop warmed to the theory and a Cacophony of scandalized voices rose like girls adding to a ghost story in the upstairs attic of a finishing school. “What if he was so…so brutish…that his poor lady wife had to flee from him?”

“Horse flesh and steam engines.” Mrs. Turvydrop sagely expounded, “It’s the only thing I’ve heard tell that interests him.”

“And a good waistcoat.” Countess Jessop tittered.

“Mark my words Hortencia, he has foul designs for your child.” Lydia Carmichael sighed, “He’ll break that girl like a licorice stick.”

“By your own admission he’ll likely be too busy with horses and steam engines to bother with her.” your mother returned wryly and filled yourself with smug comradery for her wit, you opened the door and presented yourself to the doubters.

The picture of you was hardly settling.

Virginal and swathed in blushing pink silks, your copious flowers were perhaps overdone but you looked a May Queen, airy and bright, like one touch of a masculine finger on your porcelain self would wilt you like a peony, breathed upon too hard.

Your eager face questioned your mother, a silent, unspoken query: “do you think he’ll like it? Will he like me?”

Her eyes filled with tears, seeing in you her promising young babe and a bound bride all at once. She saw you briefly as a man might, and she trembled at the sudden vision she had of Elvis Aaron Presley, Esquire and Dandy sinking his teeth into you like a delectable pastry.

“You are a vision of loveliness, dear.” she expressed with a choked voice, eyes watery and hands trembling as she grasped your own. The confusion shown on your face at her grief hurt her deeply, she knew you were not naive but you were a hopeless optimist, and as such you could beam and blush at so grave a prospect as marrying a wounded man. Like stags, spurned husbands tended to be crueler in their second rut. “Come, let us go down and join the men.” she urged with a brave smile and you followed her, gloved hand pressed in hers.

[horus-unofficial]

So the other day I opened a storage hatch at the back of my Minotaur’s cockpit, where I’d assumed spare parts were stored, only to find a hallway inside. On further investigation, it looks like my Minotaur has an entire crew deck with about 2,500 square feet of space. It’s actually pretty nice—personal cabins, common area, medical bay, armory, showers, laundry, stocked kitchen. The kind of thing you’d see on a little freighter or something, except everything is green and has little spines and there’s occasionally decals that say things like “fuck the KTB.”

Thing is, there’s a few doors I can’t get to open no matter what codes or biometrics I input, and I’m hesitant to take a plasma torch to the locks. It’s my mech, after all—feels wrong to go cutting it up, you know? Maybe it just wants a little privacy.

I’d love to tell my lancemates so we could get some use out of the space, but I know they’ll have questions. So, is this a standard feature? I know HORUS PGs ‘mutate’ every now and then, but this pretty advanced for a quirk of evolving code. Also, do y’all have any idea about the door locks? Thanks.

mutations can get that advanced if you leave a HORUS PG to its own devices for long enough- ask the hundreds of goblins that spawned OSIRIS clones overnight when their pilots werent paying attention to the codes they had running in the background

the doors are probably locked behind puzzles. if you treat it like an escape room where the clues are all personalized to you as a person specifically you might be able to make some headway on unlocking the doors, tho thats a guess based more on our character references for the minotaur and admittedly our mechs arent exactly known for their predictability

[in-the-shadow-of-the-blog]

In the Shadow of the Attack

Summary: Sebastian is impatient to hear from MC after the attack on Hogwarts. (Hufflepuff MC, implied Sebastian Sallow x MC)

Word count: 750

Rating: PG

Warnings: Spoilers for endgame, mentions of death/grief

Sebastian paced up and down the Undercroft, impulsively tapping his hand against the side of his leg. Ominis could sense the apprehension coming off his friend in waves. It was almost contagious, but he thought at least one of them should try to remain calm.

“What do you think is going on down there?” Sebastian asked.

“I don’t know, Sebastian. But the castle hasn’t collapsed, so that must be a good sign.”

“But is she all right?”

“Are you sure she’s even involved in what’s happening? Maybe Poppy was wrong, and she’s sitting in the common room with the rest of her house.”

Sebastian shook his head. “I’m sure. Whatever is going on down there has to do with Ranrok. And if it’s related to Ranrok, MC is involved.”

“If you say so.”

It had all started very suddenly. Tremors shook Hogwarts; not enough to cause damage, but enough to create concern. Then the teachers had appeared, ordering students back to their common rooms before disappearing somewhere within the castle. That was hours ago.

Now, the earth was still, but the entire school was abuzz. None of the faculty or heads of houses had come to them with any explanations. Sebastian couldn’t find MC anywhere, and neither could their other friends.

Risking the wrath of Professor Sharp if he was caught, Sebastian had snuck over to the Hufflepuff common room. Several students clad in yellow were milling about with anxious faces as they watched the staircase. His arrival had almost caused a stir, Poppy Sweeting’s face the first to fall when she realized he was not the person she was looking for.

“When you see her, tell her to find me as soon as she can,” he’d asked her. “She’ll know where to look.”

Poppy had agreed, and he couldn’t imagine she would go back in her word.

“What if Poppy didn’t give her my message? What if she couldn’t, if something terrible happened?”

Ominis stopped trying to answer every worried question that spilled from Sebastian. It did nothing to soothe his own worries about MC. She was his friend, too, and Ominis didn’t like to think of the danger she could be in.

Finally, the gate of the Undercroft swung open. Sebastian’s pacing stopped, and he and Ominis turned toward the doorway.

“MC?” Sebastian asked.

She was in one piece, and he didn’t see any obvious injuries, but Sebastian felt a pull at his heartstrings when he looked into her eyes. Red-rimmed and shining with more tears threatening to fall any moment, Sebastian was too familiar with a look of grief when he saw it. He rushed to her, taking her hands in his own.

“MC, are you all right?”

MC nodded. “It’s over. Ranrok is gone.”

“Something is wrong,” said Ominis. “I can hear it in your voice.”

MC squeezed her eyes shut, and she felt a tea roll down her cheek. She felt so hollow thinking about it; she didn’t want to say it. Part of her still couldn’t believe it had really happened. Her friends waited patiently for her to find her voice, though it didn’t stay with her for long.

“Professor Fig…” she trailed off, unable to finish, but the boys didn’t need to hear anything more to understand.

“I’m so sorry, MC,” said Sebastian, pulling her into a hug.

Sebastian’s embrace filled her senses as she buried her face in his shoulder. He was warm, smelling of the library and the books he was always buried in. His concerned shallow breaths close enough for MC to feel them against the shell of her ear. It was enough to help her forget, just for a moment, the harrowing ordeal she had just been through.

With Sebastian’s arms around her and Ominis’s hand on her shoulder, she felt safe and comfortable. It was the first time she had felt that she could let her guard down since she had gone to see Ollivander. And she couldn’t hold it in anymore. Once the first sob was out, the rest followed, unbidden, into Sebastian’s shoulder.

He held her tighter, as if he could force the grief away from her and replace it with himself. Under different circumstances, it might have worked.

“We’re here for you, MC,” Ominis said softly.

She could only nod her thanks. MC could never put into words how grateful she was for their support. She knew, after everything that happened during the school year, she could face anything with her friends at her side.

—

Notes: I wanted it, so I wrote it…

Masterlist

[cherrysoulth]

ᴍᴀᴅɴᴇꜱꜱ - ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ʙʀᴇᴇᴢᴇ

💕Pairings: Female reader X Daechwita! King AgustD-1 // Female reader X Daechwita! AgustD-2

📝Summary: When the sound of Daechwita vibrates in the internal battle between the royal family twins. A king and a lover. Lust, Love and Betrayal are on rampage. You need to make a choice- Love or saving the trust. And your choices will have consequences...

✏️Genre: angst and fluff 

✏️Rating: PG-18

📝Word count: 3493

⚠️Warnings: Mentions of sex, violence, cheating/affairs

Hii! Welcome to my work. I'm new in this platform but been posting my writing for four years now in AO3. English is not my first language, so please if you find grammar mistakes, let me know. :)

Big thanks to @moonleeai 💚

<<<𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 1 | 𝕸𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 3>>>

The hot breeze makes its way through again as you fan yourself, and you take a shallow breath, already done with the weather. Although the shade of the trees next to the lake protects you from the sun's merciless rays, the heat is in the air like a furnace. Inside the palace's walls, the rooms are more chill and there's barely anyone outside who knows any better but you find yourself coming here every day, today too, regardless of the temperature, looking at the water's reflection mirage. The same your memories have seemed to turn into.

One of your ladies-in-waiting comes over with a servant to take the task, apologetically, having missed your leave, now that you can roam around almost freely. She's genuine, new, but growing fond of you by the day. The other ladies, full grown women, and some already married, seem to find her endearing, although they scold her into learning the manners of her status. You know the oldest, the prime minister's wife, has to have sent her after you when she went to the sewing room without you.

A little scrunch marks your nose as you give her a naughty expression and she looks at you with her doe eyes. She definitely takes after her brother and you can't avoid smiling at the thought. Far too early to tell but you are sure she'll have lots of suitors when she comes of age. Boys already look at her, taken by her beauty.

Unable to stand the heat any longer, despite the servant's efforts to make wind around you, you stand, startling the youngster slightly. The image of the water had her captivated as much as it did you; just for very different reasons.

You motherly caress your slightly swollen tummy over the white and red hanbok again, uneasy now that you are on your feet. But it's starting to become a common thing as the days go by. This pregnancy feels different, you feel like your belly has started to swell too early. Everything feels odd around it but you can't really place why.

The walk back to the centre of the palace is quiet, as servants surround you to cover your head with an umbrella and fan you from different directions. You enter the rectangular patio leading to the throne room and walk inside as the guards on sight open the door for you.

Yoonsuk raises his eyes from the scripts and stands at your sight, your two boys run to you from their place next to him where they are being taught some of their ancestor's history by their tutor. Although you know they are smart, Yoonguk, who is only three, is probably not learning much in this class. However, Yoonhyung, at the age of six is already able to write in Hangul the simplicity of thoughts he can have at his age. You are proud of them, such good and well-behaved kids deserve it.

"How is the little one behaving?" Yoonsuk wonders, approaching as you do, leaving your ladies at the other side of the open door, as they to the kong. "Ladies, you may retire, thank you. Kim Namjoon-nim, you shall continue the lessons in the library. The Queen and I have matters to attend." he orders as you stand from hugging your sons and the tutor politely bows to the both of you before leaving with the two beautiful boys. The guards close the door and you hear the metallic sound of their spears as they get in front of it.

The King hugs you from behind, breathing on your neck. "I've been sweating a little bit, dear husband. You may not wish to do that," you warn him, caressing his hands over your stomach.

"Nonsense," he says, kissing at the crook of your neck, leaving a soft bite that makes you turn around. "Guards! Make sure we are not disturbed!" he orders before pushing you by the same shoulder down; a nonverbal order you know way too well now. He seems to get off on the fact that you do it in this room, somehow. You reach into his pants to free his shaft, stroking him when it springs out. "I don't fancy you doing that now, get on your back," he says, grabbing your wrist and not letting it go as he gets on his knees, kissing you as you obey.

His hand sneaks under the hem of your skirt until he places it over your stomach, able to see the little swelling on your belly. He caresses the area that he can only watch with pride. "This is the last time I'll ask you to do this here. It has been fun but I owe you the comfort of our bed now that you carry for me again," he says as he lowers the fabric creating a cushioned form covering your stomach before his thumb circles on your bud. "You've been so obedient these last couple of months … Being my beloved wife, my queen… my lover… my concubine… So obedient, yes." The rubbing is the only one to blame for the way you start to get wet since the words only imply his ratification of his ownership over you. "My love," he whispers as he leans over, fingers working into sliding slowly into your depths.

You remembered that was exactly how you conceived the new crown prince or princess. Just like this, he leaned with his body over yours pulling out his fingers and pushing himself slowly in, as he had the habit of. It was never a warranty of him being soft or gentle, just that he didn't want to hurt you.

When he slid in, you wrapped your legs around his waist raising your hips as he thrust in you carefully, you felt his weight and warmth. That time he leaned over your body completely, now he’s careful and uses his elbows to make sure he doesn’t crush you. He feels good inside of you and although you had been stepping away from him emotionally before your affair was broken, now you feel even more conflicted than before.

He ignored you for the length of seven weeks, or mostly so since he would still sit down to eat with you. The bedroom was your prison, feeling the coldness of the bedsheets as he wouldn’t even step foot inside the four walls.

He spoke to you in short sentences and didn’t share any information with you as he used to. You felt for the first time, despite how he had been so sexually inactive months before, how it must have felt to be in an arranged marriage in which your husband didn’t want you. Missing the comfort of Yoongi’s words and love, drove you insane. You had never felt so lonely, even with the company of your ladies.

After that period, when the doctor corroborated that there was no pregnancy since you had bled twice. He had shooed your ladies out of the room, he had ripped your clothes and fed with your body his lust.

He made you moan and cry in all the ways he had learnt to love you for the previous seven years. All, while muttering all the changes that would be made in your lives to sort whatever had been breaking your marriage in the first place. Followed by a death threat on any chance you could take to have a lover again, right after he had spurted his seed inside of you, with the first lights of the sun turning the sky purple.

Since then, and without chances to know if Yoongi was alright or even breathing, you adapted and assumed your destiny. Yoonsuk is right, you are the perfect wife, even if you miss Yoongi. Even on the nights, you don’t share a bed with your husband, you cry in silence for the sorrow of losing him.

“Your Majesty!” shouts one of the servants at the other side of the door when Yoonsuk tries to angle better and starts hitting your sweet spot, making you moan against his collarbone, at the same time eliciting a grunt from him.

“How do you dare to disturb me!” growls Yoonsuk, before rising on his thighs and putting your knees against his chest, closing your legs and angling in a way that makes you have to muffle your sounds with your sleeve.

“Your Majesty, it’s important!” says the servant with a cracked voice.

“Speak!” Yoonsuk growls as you get closer to your orgasm. He forgets your knees raising you by the hips, still thrusting, raising your lower back from the floor.

“Your Majesty. There’s a group of bandits making their way down to the capital… But… But they-” the servant doubts to speak.

“They- what?” he growls once more giving the last thrust that sends you over the edge with the muffled sound of a scream against his palm.

“They are raising a rebellion, Your Majesty…” the man says and you can hear the tremble of his voice through the sense of your own body shattering, making it stop suddenly.

You feel Yoonsuk start to soften while he clenches his jaw, eyes locked on the door. He lets you down carefully and arranges your skirt before putting his wet member back inside his slacks. He stands and helps you up gently before holding you in a hug, kissing your forehead and you surround his well-formed abdomen with your arms.

"Tell the councillors to come here. We'll discuss this," orders Yoonsuk. "Take a seat with me, my queen," he offers, pointing with his hand to his throne where there's another one slightly lower for you.

You walk your way to it while correcting your hanbok, and as you sit down you feel your own drip staining the inner layer of it. Which makes you shift in your seat a second enough for Yoonsuk to guess why and smirk at you as he sits too.

“I’m not done-” he says facing the other extreme of the room but side eyeing you.

“I know. After this, in my room?” you question, tilting your head his way, but then he tilts his to look at you.

“My room. Tonight,” he says and you suddenly feel a weight lift from your chest, although you hadn’t realised it was there at all.

Being truthful to yourself and stopping to excuse his behaviour, he’s been truly using you when it comes to that matter. He has been taking you anywhere, any time, for the last three months, like a haunt does a bitch and you have let him. Yoonsuk is a generous lover and sleeping with him isn't a sacrifice, but the humiliation of being treated like that has probably been something you’ve taken for the sake of repaying for his damaged pride. Maybe because you know the consequences of your transgressions, your betrayal, should have ended with your two sons being motherless. Instead, your husband whom everyone, including you, thought crazy; gave you a second chance and has used your body to show you where you belong; at his side, like it always was. You feel like even if your inner self has wanted to tell him otherwise at the beginning, your acceptance has made things easier for everyone.

Those two sentences, what he’s said right before taking you on the floor of the room that represents his power, means he’s finally moved past your punishment and you two are one again. The image of Yoongi looking at you with his smile hits you for a moment and you have to push him away once more, not without your feelings betraying you in the form of a tear falling over your left cheek.

“Does that make you happy?” wonders Yoonsuk, tilting his head to look at you again as the guards open the door and you dry off the tear.

“Thank you,” you whisper and you feel the bile rise in your throat, from your lie. You don’t feel thankful, that's not it. Internally, you still wish you could get out and find your way back to Yoongi but there’s simply nothing you can do to change your circumstances. You see he’s raised his eyebrows in surprise and presents you a gummy smile, a second after, when you look at him from your position. Something in his smile makes your stomach bubble and you feel the butterflies of the love you thought lost.

Maybe you should really, truly, accept that this is your life now. That you can still love the man you used to, even if he’s a monster. What else is there for you to do?

When the ministers and counsellors take their places, some look at you, though just a second. You know it's a second guess to having seen you as they entered, probably surprised.

Your affair was shut down to anyone who had knowledge of what was going on that night. The fear of the king is bigger than their need to gossip. But the lack of your presence in the throne chambers and the lack of either of you visiting your sleeping ones soon raised discomfort.

What in the past was looked forward to; the king losing interest in you (in order to gain favour through their daughters becoming the king's concubines), was now feared.

Taehyung, the prime minister and long-time friend, had openly asked his wife about the matter. She dared then to translate the discomfort everyone who was highborn had with the events, but you were unable to answer. Feeling shame for the first time.

However, the king waited, not taking anyone publicly to his bed. The idea he could mortified you so much, that you dared to speak it out loud during one dinner, where you ate alone.

Aware of your appetite's lack of appearance while the matter rounded your head, the king spoke: "Is that all you are going to eat?" his eyes were on you like daggers. Four weeks into his distancing could mean this was the first sign of you carrying what he was sure would be his brother’s child, not his. Although he had slept with you too. "Not feeling your appetite I see," he mentioned taking a sip of his drink, "feeling nauseous maybe?" The vile raised in his throat as much as it did in yours.

"I have things on my mind. That is all," you said, not daring to keep your eyes on him longer than to acknowledge what he was starting at.

"And what is that then?" he questioned, placing the cup over the table with a clang. If he thought you were missing or even thinking about Yoongi his blood would boil immediately.

You dared to stare at him longer, after watching the motion and he raised an eyebrow, "what do you care?" you hissed. The solitude was finally weighing on you and your well-hidden resentment towards your husband decided to show.

"What do I care?" he chuckled humourlessly. "What about my wife, the mother of my children, who I have loved dearly, yet decided to betray me but still has her head? What about that?" he pointed, slamming his palm over the table, standing.

"How fair is that when you can go around court sleeping, unpunished, with everyone's daughters or wives?" you muttered, vile in your words. "And I, just the wife, have to look away."

His eyes were bulged and his lips parted too, then his face composed as he gripped one edge of the table. His eyes showed lust. "Is that jealousy?" he asked with what seemed like a purr, you got flustered. "So it is true. You did it because..." his eyes bulged again, "you thought I was sleeping with another," he instinctively surrounded the table when you looked away. There was a partial truth to it, just as you confesed the night you got caught, though you don't know if it was just what gave you the courage. Would you have done that if you never suspected him? Or was it truly because he was making you grow distant in the heart through his actions? Or both? He kneeled next to you and grabbed your chin for you to look at him. "As I already told you, I never did. Not once." His face was the one of the man you bowed to spend your eternity with, sincere but also hurt, staring at you, the woman he loved and a tear rolled down to soon be followed.

His lips were on yours, forgiving, loving, intense, and soon your back was against the cushions you were sitting in. He was feeling you against his body differently, unguided by lust but tenderness, yet you could feel him hard against your thigh.

Soon the kiss escalated and he was breathlessly trying to remove his clothes and yours, unorganised, a knot from you, then his, a naked shoulder, a raised layer of your skirt, then he seemed to look at the moon through the window and think, stopping abruptly. He then separated from you and put everything in your clothes back into place, doing the same with his before going back to his seat to eat in silence. Leaving you completely stunned. You didn't, however, dare to ask why and somewhere between hurt and horny, you stood to leave the room. He didn't say a thing or looked at you.

He kept even more distance after that and with that prospect, you were sure he would never take you back as his wife. That you had even given him the idea of taking concubines to hurt you, which froze any hopes you had to have at least some sort of comfort at his side.

Then a second period came and the doctor discreetly notified you and him that would ensure there wasn’t a baby to be expected. Yoonsuk nodded and dismissed him.

He then grabbed your head softly and planted a kiss on your forehead, "Thank the goods," he whispered and then walked out of the room. In the days following, you caught him staring at you constantly when you shared the same rooms or came across at the patios. So did the whole court, like the prime minister confided in his wife.

After that week, in the afternoon, before the sunset, your husband, the king, walked his way to your rooms with his servants at his talons. With everyone at court that day seeing it. Then you got to know and understand the truth.

He placed a hand over your belly in his bliss and pronounced, "I'm sure my seeds will flourish soon," with a smile as he looked at the moon again, almost full, and you could only stare at him. "It has worked twice," he added, kissing your forehead. Your eyes bulged as he looked at you from above. "If I had slept with you the other day, a month ago… I wouldn't have trusted anything growing in you," he muttered, sincerely.

Your new baby was indeed conceived in that moment although you hoped it didn’t. Not after the things he had muttered between growls.

"I'll kill any man who dares be less than two feet away from you."

The voices around you seem to quite abruptly and your husband's hand on your arm sends you back to reality. You realise everyone is looking at you, and meet his eyes.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asks, worried in his tone.

"Uh? Oh, no, no, I'm all right. What were you asking?" you respond, having overheard the punishment for following the bandits should be thirty whips at the centre of the traitor's town, to make an example.

"I asked if you needed anything?" He keeps his tone low, only for you to hear and the others keep their respectful silence. "The prime minister eloquently pointed out that you look affected by the heat. Do you need something to drink or eat?"

"Just a fan and some water." he gestured for one of the servants waiting against one of the columns to approach and gave the order.

"Let's continue."

"If I may," asked Chancellor Jung Hoseok. The King nodded for him to speak. "I know maybe now won't be the best time but reducing the taxes and making things a little less tight has always worked to keep the people content and loyal… Maybe we can prom-"

"Your Majesty," interrupted the chancellor's words as Captain Kim Seokjin rushed into the room and bowed humbly.

"What is it, Seokjin-ssi?" Yoonsuk speaks with more patience than he shows to any of the others.

"I have news of who is leading the rebellion." You can automatically tell Seokjin doesn't want to say it, that it's going to anger the king.

"Go on."

"It's the traitor, Min Yoongi, Your Majesty," Seokjin says, looking at the floor instead of the monarch, probably as scared as anyone else.

The whole room gasps, including you, and you can feel the eyes of your sovereign on you.

Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I would really appreciate if you let me know if you liked it, either with a kudo or a comment. It encourages me to keep writing!

[gothamusing]

DEADPOOL AND WOLVERINE (2024) PART TWO. a collection of memes derived from the deadpool and wolverine movie, for roleplaying purposes. feel free to edit as you see fit. do not steal. (18+).

i know how to fuck people up for money, but you, you, know how to save them.

they call me the merc with the mouth. they don’t call me truthful timmy, the blowjob queen of saskatoon.

you know what, you’re a fucking joke.

i have never met a sadder, more attention-starved, jabbering little prick in my entire life.

you will never save the world.

you couldn’t even save a relationship with a goddamn stripper.

i wish i could say you’d die alone, but it’s one of god’s best jokes that you can’t die, except that’s on all of us!

i’m gonna fight you now.

you dirty bitch!

i take it all back, the honda odyssey fucks hard.

oh, we’re just getting started.

i don't like you.

and who’s this succulent reminder of my own inadequacies?

i can tell you now, it’s just a common courtesy to ask before you drink up all of my liquor.

it’s a good thing i don’t give a fuck.

it’s like pinocchio jammed his face in my ass and started lying like crazy.

people like us don’t go quietly.

let’s get the fuck out of this place.

don’t listen to him, he’s a fucking liar.

you made it out alive?

look, there’s strength in numbers, all right?

i know what it means to feel self-doubt.

dick head here, talk to him about team up. then he came down with a little case of the deads.

if he survived that, he is praying for death.

where i come from, we call that suicide.

i’m sick of this shit. i'm sick of hiding.

let’s face it, our world’s forgot about us.

i ain’t know my daddy, but i’m sure i shot out of his dick ready.

you're all fucking dead.

my god, read the room.

i’m not looking for company.

i got to have a life because of you.

trust me, kid, i’m no hero.

i couldn’t have them thinking i wanted to be there.

this suit’s all i got to remind me of who they were.

we won’t pull this off without you.

where'd you get that little beauty?

oh, this is gonna be good.

you know how long i’ve been waiting for this?

you just make sure people know what happened here today.

when you get out of here, you have a drink for me, yeah?

some motherfucker’s still trying to ice skate up hill.

you shouldn’t have done that.

you are an interesting one, aren’t you?

you’re hiding from them, from all the ones you let down.

that’s not all you did, is it?

i can silence all those voices.

i've got you.

either you kill me or i kill you. both wonderful options.

oh come on, mr. pg-13 except the last one.

why are you like this?

i know your brother.and as much as i wanna fucking kill you, every bone in my body wants to fucking kill you. he would not let me stand here, and watch you die.

my brother loved you.

if he knew about you, if he knew where you were, he would have torn a hole in the fucking universe to bring you home.

they’re gonna make him do this till he’s 90.

you put all these bullets in my belly and i’m gonna find out why.

you don’t have to stick your fingers in me.

jesus, just ask sometimes.

we had an agreement.

oh, i hate you so much.

why was thor crying?

you tried to kill me.

you come for the king, you better kill the king.

you had to go and piss on my side of the fence, and now the fence must come down.

don’t worry, i’ve called some friends to make sure were not disturbed.

what’s cafe gratitude doing here?

oh, that's funny. i can gently tap the fourth wall too. the proposal.

the fuck was that?

bitch, you think that’s what i do?

i take it they’re not friendly.

i’d love to get in the mix, but i have low bone density and i have to keep my face safe.

when i want your opinion, i’ll take wolverine’s dick out of your mouth.

i think it’s been steadily great since endgame.

what are you talking about?

uzi time, baby.

i think i'm hit.

you did that on purpose.

listen to me, gorgeous. how long does it take for you to regenerate?

you really are god’s perfect idiot, aren’t you?

how dare you, you insensitive son of a bitch.

how was i supposed to know he doesn’t regenerate? i’m not a medicine woman.

i’m gonna get you to safety.

hey, why are we stopping?

listen to me. you're gonna live.

i don’t think he’s gonna make it.

i could taste his final thought. he was so afraid. but he died a hero.

he died from murder, you dumb fuck!

what’s the wind resistance on those blowjob handles?

sorry, i'm just a catty bitch when i'm jealous.

all right, let's do this. maximum effort.

the mask is really intimidating, huh? it’s like batman except he can move his neck.

if you’re not gonna swallow, spit it out.

trust the laws of physics if you don’t trust me.

you heard that asshole upstairs. even if we pull this off, we’re dead, permanently.

you didn’t ask for any of this.

i lied right to your face.

say hi to your friends for me.

i can’t hear you over all the noble sacrifice.

why are you fucking doing this?

sorry, i’m just stalling. i think i’m nervous about dying.

for the first time in my life, i am proud to wear this suit.

there’s nothing you or i can do to bring them back now.

he has risen, babygirl!

we’re doing just fine, you piece of shit.

what the fuck is happening here?

i was just doing what you don’t have the guts to do.

you look damn good in that suit.

i'm so sorry.

i wanna show you something.

i could eat.

you know the avengers discovered shawarma?

what are you gonna do next?

i’m shaking like an angry vibrator.

everyone wants to matter.

give me the fucking dog.

i did it for you.

i know you don’t want me, but i did it for you.

turns out, i am the world’s saving type.

i’m tired of these absolutely vile rumors that i got (blank) killed.

holy shit, girl, you crazy.

gotcha, fuck face.

[possessivesuffix]

Crossposting from Twxttxr: some interesting news about ongoing research by colleagues, from a workshop "Diversification of Uralic" just this Thursday and Friday

Do the Permic languages have loanwords from Old Norse? e.g. ONo. ár ~ Komi & Udmurt ar 'year'. This would've been sensible during the brief time when Norsemen originally from Sweden were in charge of trade along the Volga and settling in inner Russia, forming the Rus' (later Slavicized, but as we know from Byzantine sources they remained Norse for centuries) — and also the Norwegians too were known to conduct exploration + trade along the Barents Sea at the time, our oldest written reports of "Bjarmia" come from them after all.

Do the Finnic languages have loanwords already from Pre-Proto-Germanic into Pre-Proto-Finnic? My first reply would've been "yes surely", this has been discussed for half a century and there's dozens of etymologies out by now. Turns out though that there's still a lot of room for skepticism if we try to assemble a big picture. Most of these could be (and have been proposed by other analyses) to be proper Germanic after all, or from some non-Germanic kind of Indo-European, or even incorrect. There is unambiguous evidence I think at least of loans lacking *ā > *ō, but that's already though to be one of the latest common Germanic innovations, perhaps barely post-PG. [Follow-up question: do we even know where Pre-Proto-Germanic was spoken? might not have been anywhere convenient for contacts with Pre-Proto-Finnic.] — A few similar problems also in the less discussed supposed layer of Proto-Balto-Slavic or pre-BSl. loans, but by areal considerations it seems obvious to me there must've been Uralic/IE contact somewhere in the Russian forest belt for ages already, even if it might not have left enough evidence to clearly distinguish from things like pre-Indo-Iranian loans.

Do the Samic languages have loanwords that are not from any historically attested branch of Scandinavian, but some sort of a lost variety entirely? This could be an explanation for an unexpected sound correspondence *j → *ć in many loans; it might also explain some loans that look surprizingly archaic, e.g. lacking any reflection of Siever's Law. One example showing both is indeed *Tāńćə 'Norse', from some sort of a *Danji- variant of Proto-Germanic *Daniz.

Several new hypotheses on the history of of sibilants in Ugric, adding to the growing tally of evidence that traditionally reconstructed *s > *θ and *ś > *s "in Proto-Ugric" are actually later developments. A paper supposed to be coming out soon!

No linguistic evidence so far, but a 1670 travelogue by de La Martinière appears to still report seemingly pre-Uralic populations along the Barents Sea coast — and even on Novaya Zemlya, traditionally thought to have been uninhabited (as reported by other early modern explorers) before some Tundra Nenets briefly settled there in mid 19th century. Apparently there's been no real archeological investigation, but also at least two stone labyrinths are known as signs that humans still must've at least visited there sometime in the past. [By current knowledge, labyrinths from Sweden and Finland have mostly been built in late medieval and early modern times though, so they don't suggest especial antiquity either. Could the ones on NZ in fact have been left behind by some of these historical Northwest European expeditions?]

Various discussion also on the development of Samoyedic. Nothing particularly all-new (maybe on Nganasan, more on that in a PhD thesis to appear later this year though), but a few main results include 1. clear recognition that there is no "North Samoyedic" group (as has been suspected for several years now), 2. confirmation that there is regardless a narrower Nenets–Enets group, and 3. some development of a model where all three of Nenets, Enets and Nganasan may have moved to the tundra zone independently from further down south (as is certainly the case for Northern Selkup, the most recent northern expansion of Samoyedic speakers).

[odder-oddish]

Bond- Prologue

Okay, okay. I wanted to share something for my Incubus Ace/ Demon Hunter Felix work... which is shaping up to be one long project. So here's the beginning. Nothing super exciting yet; just a little background and exposition, but a preview of what's to come. This fic might get a lil' heavy, but no warnings for this chapter, unless you count Ace's dirty sense of humor.

Hello, heathens. Today we're covering an exciting topic in the Infernal Realm, for all of you who like to dabble beyond the spirit realm. That's right, demons. Now, the first thing to know about demons is how to protect yourself against them. Two of the most common tools are easy to find, but important to understand how to use. The first is salt. It's a common belief that demons can't pass over salt lines, but that's only partially true. The reality is demons can't pass over salt lines without disrupting them. So they won't completely ward off a demon, but if you lay a salt line, you can check to see if an invisible demon or Hellspawn has crossed the area. Second is silver. Most weapons don't hurt demons at all. Silver does hurt demons, but only if it breaks their skin; it sets their blood on fire. So keep a silver knife or blade ready; you need to break skin, so blunt objects won't be enough

Continue reading on pg 9, "Salt and Silver"

-Witchcraft Weekly, volume 54.

Empty rooms were the scariest, Felix had always thought. Terrifying as it was throwing a door open only to be greeted by a demon, at least then he knew where it was.

But luck was not on his side today, as he carefully swept the room of a dingy motel, looking for the invading creature. They'd gotten the right room, as Elodie had pointed out some tracks of blood on the carpet, and the lights to the room weren't working, but the demon itself was nowhere to be seen. Felix hoped it hadn't fled; it had taken long enough to track the demon here, starting over would be a nightmare.

"Checking the closet," says Elodie. She had to lower her flashlight, so Felix kept his aimed on where she was looking. Elodie reaches the small closet in the room, holding a silver blade. in one hand and sliding the door open with another. "Damn. Nothing."

"Checking the bathroom," says Felix. Elodie turned to hover the beam of her light over the door as Felix steadies himself and then swings the door open. He doesn't see anything at first; the cheap appliances dont't offer much hiding space, except behind the shower curtain. Creeping up to it, Felix opens the curtain, but once again sees nothing.

"I don't think it's here," he says, before turning around, getting ready to leave the bathroom…

…and coming face to face with the demon.

The demon, as well as the human body it was possessing, was clinging to the ceiling like a lizard. A young man was possessed, but the shadowy eyes and black veins pulsing out of its skin made it clear that the thing was a demon, as if it's position on the wall wasn't evidence enough. "It's here, Elodie," Felix shouts, dropping the flashlight to brace himself as the demon leaps at him.

Elodie begins reciting an exorcism as the demon attempts to claw into Felix's chest. He slashes at it with his own silvered knife, managing a small cut into its arm. The creature recoils briefly before moving in for another strike, which Felix ducks underneath before darting out of the bathroom.

Elodie was on the other side of the room, focused on the chanting. Even though she posed the greater threat, Felix seems to be the demon's current target. He flipped on survival mode. He and Elodie knew the odds of beating a demon in a brawl like this were low, and with a human being possessed, Felix couldn't go in for the kill even if he did have the chance. The only option was to survive the assault until the exorcism was over.

The demon skitters down the wall onto the floor as it exits the bathroom and Felix launches himself out of the way as it tries to lunge for him again. He can barely think over the adrenaline pulsing in his veins, but manages to strike at the demon again, to keep its attention on him. He goes in for another swing, but the demon is ready this time, and Felix is knocked to his back, rolling back up onto his knees just in time to avoid a lethal swipe at his neck, the demon having grown long, sharp claws. They plunge instead into the skin of his forearms, and Felix shouts in pain, but holds strong.

After what feels like minutes, but is only about ten more seconds, Elodie finishes the exorcism. The demon screeches, a high-pitched sound that pierces Felix's ears. The claws retract back into human fingers, the human falls back limply, and the demon's spirit is pulled out of the body and thrown back to hell.

"You alright?" asks Elodie, coming to his side and pulling out a first-aid kit.

"I'm fine. Check him out," says Felix, tilting his head towards the unconscious man. He pulls some gauze and a roll of bandages out and begins treating the wound on his arm himself. It stings but he gets through it.

Elodie looks over the man. Felix isn't 't too concerned, because when demons used their powers to heal themselves, the bodies they possessed were also healed. "Just the small cut from where you nicked him. It wasn't even enough to burn the skin." She starts to clean the cut and the man startles awake.

"Holy shit, where am I?" the man asks, trying to sit up. Elodie gently places a hand on his shoulder, guiding him to lay down. "Who are you?"

"Take it easy. You were just possessed by a demon," she says. "I know that sounds hard to believe-"

"It doesn't, actually, not after everything that happened," the man interrupts. "Do you see my glasses, I can't see without 'em."

Without saying a word, Felix stands up to find the glasses, as Elodie keeps talking to the man. His name is Dwight, and he was in Vegas for a corporate event, but got lost trying to find a venue, then blacked out and came to in the driver's seat of a taxi. He hadn't been able to control his own body, watching the stolen car speed down the street before parking in front of this hotel and coming into this room, where he'd been for about three hours.

"I swear I didn't steal that car, though. Am I gonna be arrested?" he asks frantically, as Felix returns with the glasses.

"You'll be alright," Elodie assures him. "We have a government contact who will take care of any nearby camera footage or anything."

Felix tunes the rest of their conversation out. They give the same speech to all the people the save, how demons choose weak, unsuspecting targets, so it's unlikely they'll be a victim twice, a support group they can contact to share experiences with, and an explanation of what happened.

Felix finishes cleaning his injury before pulling out his phone to call Jonah. He shares Dwight's name and description of what happened, and Jonah assures him he'll take care of the stolen taxi, keeping Dwight's name clean.

Elodie gets Dwight set up with another place to stay for the night before they part ways. In the car, Elodie drives while Felix sketches the spirit he saw in his journal. The details are vague because he only saw it for half a second, but it's better than nothing.

"That should be the last of them," says Elodie as they pull up to their own hotel. A valet takes their car as they enter the resort. "Three demons in two days, though. That sucked."

"I'm glad Haddie got us out here, though. Things could've been a lot worse."

Elodie nods in agreement. They'd uncovered a plot by the three demons to start a fire in the poker room of one of Las Vegas's busiest casinos. The chaos and injuries could've been so much worse.

"I'm so looking forward to a good night's sleep, for sure," she says, unlocking the door to the suite they shared.

Felix agrees. They'd been woken up at three a.m. from a call from Haddie, telling them she'd had a vision revealing the location of one of the demons. He was ready to lie down for a long time. Taking off his jacket, he moved over to the window to examine the view of the Las Vegas strip, and froze.

"We have to leave," he said, pointing to the window sill. Elodie gasped. The salt line they'd set for protection was broken in the middle. A demon had been here.

"Damn it, I knew there was something off in that casino yesterday. I should've listened to my gut," said Elodie. In order to track down the demons, Elodie had performed a ritual that allowed her to see traces of nearby demons. She'd found a faint trail unlike the three demons they were tracking, but had brushed it off as nothing but a former trail, as it was weaker than the others. "We need to kill it before it hurts anyone else."

"How would we do that?" asks Felix. He was already moving to the bedroom to throw his belongings into a bag.

Elodie doesnt answer for a minute, pacing back and forth in the room. "Hang on, our trap worked," she said, gesturing to the windowsill. When they left the salt lines, they had laid silver tacks buried within them. As the demon entered the room, it must have cut itself on the tack, leaving a few droplets of blood on the wall. "We can summon it and then kill it." She leans down, collecting the blood in a small glass vial.

"Are you sure? We've never performed a summoning?" asks Felix.

"We don't have a choice. If this one broke into the room, he could be tracking us or have our scent or something. We can't risk him finding us again. Plus, I've been studying rituals, and Mikaela has been giving me some tips."

"You're right. This is our best option. Maybe we can use the safehouse south of here. It's a bit of a drive, but better than doing it here."

"Good thinking. I'll call Zarina and make sure it's okay. We should drive separately, just in case."

"You go ahead now. I'm going to check the room for anything else out of place," says Felix. Elodie quickly gathers her things and after a quick hug goodbye, leaves the room.

Felix immediately gets to work. He doesn't bother checking furniture or other hotel items; he's more concerned about their personal items being stolen or tampered with. He looks over his journal, the extra knives they keep, and some of the extra spell components Elodie didn't take with her. Nothing seems out of place. Felix is just about to leave when he spots it.

Lying on the bedspread of Felix's bedroom, just beneath the pillow is a green and black poker chip. Upon glancing at it, Felix doesn't see anything out of the ordinary with it. But it most certainly wasn't here before. He reaches into his supply bag and pulls out a lead box. Lead is known for being able to ward off infernal properties; if that chip is cursed, it won't be able to affect him while it's in the box. Felix inserts the chip into the box, finishes packing, and heads out into the night.

As he climbs into the car waiting for him in the parking lot, he rubs his eyes. He's exhausted, and the safe house is a six hour drive away. No matter; catching this demon takes priority right now, and if that means giving up a few more hours of sleep, he'll do it.

_________

On late nights like this, slot machines are Ace's favorite stomping grounds. They're full of people addicted to the sounds and lights, and it's far too easy to get people going, spending more, risking more. He lives for the cheap thrills.

He slinks up to a woman in her fifties. She slams her hand on the machine; four sevens had shown up but the last symbol didn't match. So close. She turns to get out of the chair, but Ace puts a friendly hand on her shoulder.

"Oh, so close! Give it another go, why don't you?"

"I don't know. This one's having a bad streak."

"That's how they get you. You step away just before the big win," says Ace, fully aware that he's lying about the machine's algorithm, and statistics in general. "Next one's on me," he adds, sliding another dollar into the machine.

The woman's eyes light up as the wheels spin around, but once again, no money is won. "So close!" Ace shouts sympathetically.

"Maybe I'll try again," says the woman, pulling another dollar bill out of her purse. Ace grins and walks away.

This casino gig is the best he's had in a decade. He's a natural at getting people to spend just a bit more money. The crooked owners made a devilish deal a year ago, wanting more money for their business, and Ace had been assigned here to help. It was a lot better than signing contracts and seducing people daily.

Not that he didn't enjoy that. In fact, right after encouraging a young man to splurge on some top shelf whiskey instead of the normal stuff, he spots two gorgeous men laughing at a roulette table. Ace runs the numbers in his head; he'd met his quota of money he'd convinced others to spend for the evening. He deserves a good time. After all, he'll have to feed soon and these gentlemen make a fine target.

He goes up and introduces himself, and their positive responses tell him he's read them right. They're a couple, but looking for a third tonight, and Ace is more than happy to volunteer his time. He goes to buy them another round of pink cocktails, but the bartender stops him.

"Hey, boss has a job for you," says the bartender.

"Ugh, seriously? This late?" asks Ace, knowing that this time of night is prime time for his sort of work, but he likes to complain.

"You're lucky, it's a quick one." The bartender leans over the bar so only Ace can hear what comes next. "Room 13 in that hotel next door. There's a pair of demon hunters staying there. Go in and mess it up just enough to scare 'em off. Let 'em think we're on to them."

"Sure thing," grumbles Ace. "But gimme those drinks first."

The drinks are ready in record time. Ace takes one in each hand and returns to the table where the guys are celebrating a win. Doesn't matter. The casino will win it back soon enough. Triple zero roulette, an addition Ace had suggested, always beats people out.

"Gentlemen, I got a quick piece of business to take care of," says Ace. He hands a glass to each of them before winking. "But I'll be back before you can say 'spit-roast'!" The couple laughs and Ace turns to leave.

The crisp air is a welcome feeling as Ace slips into a back alleyway. He finally allows his human disguise to slip. While his physical features don't change much, he sprouts a pair of horns, his eyes darkens, and his tails slips out behind him. The room is on the first floor, so Ace simply forces the window open through sheer will and peaks inside.

Everything looks empty. The lights are off and he doesn't hear anything. There is, however, a line of salt in the windowsill. This job just keeps getting easier. Ace climbs through the window gingerly, but disrupting the trail of salt nonetheless. Perfect.

He surveys the room, looking for any obvious traps he'll have to destroy, but sees nothing. Upon entering one of the two bedrooms, he notices a small bag with a handful of herbs, stones, and other strange objects, and thanks Lady Luck that the room was empty. He hated dealing with witches or spellcasters of any kind.

The other room has fewer signs of a demon hunter, but there is a large journal sitting on one of the desks that catches his eye. Ace wants to flip through it, but he's on a time crunch. Doesn't want to risk being spotted by demon hunters. So he settles for one more ill omen that is sure to leave the hunters confused. He conjures a poker chip out of the void and tosses it onto the bed. There's absolutely nothing special about the trinket, but hopefully, it'll cause the demon hunters more paranoia as they try to figure out what it does.

As he begins to leave, he hears someone speaking outside the door, prompting him to leave in more of a hurry. Slightly careless this time, he scrapes his hand on something sharp. Fuck, they'd left silver on the windowsill. But there was no time, so Ace slips out the door and shuts the window before the door can open.

As he walks back out into the dark night, he shifts his appearance back to his human disguise. He reenters the casino smiling, looking for the lucky pair he'd found earlier. It was shaping up to be a damn good night.

Do let me know what you think. I've got the first chapters of the story written and under revision. It's gonna be a long ride, but should be fun to write, and hopefully, for y'all to read.

[commander-writergirl]

Red String of Fate

Synopsis: In a world where your soulmate is picked for you with a name tattooed, you are born with the rare trait of not seeing colors until you meet yours. You never expected the universe to foresee the divided mind of your other half.

Pair: Jake Lockley x Jewish!fem!reader, Steven Grant x Jewish!Fem!reader, Marc Spector.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none (as of right now)

Word Count: 1709

Notes: This was brought on by either @softlyspector​ or @starryeyedstories​ talking about liking soulmate AUs and the idea in Judaism of the red string. And the idea that when you were a red string bracelet, it doesn’t just protect you from evil but can fall off when you have met your soulmate.

------------------------------------

-Twenty Years Ago-

“And remember never take it off.” I looked at my mother as she tied the thin red string around my left wrist. “It will fall off when you have found the one.”  

I looked at the string. It was red, my mother had said as much but it just looked dark grey to me. “But won’t I see color.” I looked at her. It was a rare way of finding your soulmate, not seeing colors. From what I had overheard, no one in my family had ever been born this way.

She smiled and stroked my curls back. “Then wear it for protection from evil.” She kissed my forehead before getting up and going back to her craft room.

I looked at the string again and played with the small charms on it. One a Hamsa and the other a crescent moon. I looked at the knot and noticed it was made to grow with me but not slip off.

-Fifteen Years Ago-

It’s for protection from evil.  

I sat in the hospital playing with the charms. The doctors said I was fine. A few bruises from the seatbelt and a few scraps but nothing major. But no one wanted to tell me that my mom was gone, having suffered the blunt of the pick-up ramming into the side of our car.  

Drunk Driver

Dead before EMS

I sniffled and curled up hoping my dad would get here soon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

-Present Day-

I twisted the charms on my bracelet as I waved down a taxi. I quickly climbed in before a familiar scent caught my attention.

“Now how is it you always find your way into my taxi, carino?”  Jake’s accent was a mix of the Spanish language he cursed in and the side-effect of growing up in New York.

“I wouldn’t know Jake, maybe just luck.” I smiled sitting back. “Home please.”  

He nodded his head, and I caught a glimpse of the green in his shirt. I chewed on my lower lip. Since meeting Jake, I could make out things people had told me were green and blue. Like the trees, the grass, my favorite dress apparently was a  mix between the two called teal.  

After first meeting Jake, I stood in front of my apartment and just stared at the sky. It was a clear light blue. I found myself grabbing anything I could tell the color of and putting it at the top of my drawers; in the side of the closest I opened the most.

I called my father in tears because it was the first time, I could see the true color of my own eyes. The colors everyone complimented.

But then it came crashing down when I realized Jake had to be my soulmate. But something was wrong. I could only see blue/green colors. I couldn’t see the other 80% of the rainbow. And the thin red bracelet my mother had placed on my wrist all those years ago was still snuggly set against my skin.

“What has you thinking so hard back there?” I shook my head and looked over to see him looking at me in the rearview mirror.

I chewed on my lower lip. “Have you ever heard of someone with the color blindness, only getting part of it back when they meet their soulmate?”  

Jake blinked at me before turning his sight back on the road. “Guess that explains why you don’t have marks on you.”  

I nodded. Jake didn’t talk about what marked him for his soulmate from what I had seen of his skin, I couldn’t see a name or symbol or even a phrase for first meetings.  

Having your soulmate’s name on you was the most common. Color blindness was the rarest, so rare there was little anyone who could teach me to help me find mine.

“You know you never told me what your mark is.” I said watching as his jaw ticked.

“You’ve never asked before.” His fingers twitched and I could tell he wanted to reach for a cigarette you usually smoke.  

“Well, I’m asking now.”  

Jake shook his head and sighed, “Color blindness.”  

“So, you couldn’t tell what color the dress was the day we meet?”  

He shook his head, “And to answer your first question; no, I don’t know what it means if you only get some color back.”  

I looked back out the window. “Maybe I have more than one soulmate.” Or maybe I’m messed up from the car crash. I squeezed my eyes shut at that thought.  

“It’s a possibility.” I felt the car slow as Jake stopped in front of my building.  

“Maybe.” I went to pull out the money to pay him before he put his hand over mine.

“Don’t worry about it Carino.” The corner of his mouth ticked up.

I smiled and kissed his cheek. “You are such a mensch.” I felt his eyes on me as I got out of the car and walked up the steps.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No Jake, there’s no possible way.” Marc said in the mindscape as Jake parked the taxi.

“Hey, how else do you want to explain us seeing green and blue shades, Spector?” Jake got out and walked towards the apartment building.  

After a few strings between contacts, Steven was able to get a research job which meant Marc and Jake got to pick home base.

Jake’s choice of New York had won.  And within the first month, he had met her.  

Curly hair and smooth skin. A smile that brought the stars for a day. And she brought him latkes over the holiday season, clocking him much easier than he clocked her.  

Steven wanted to meet her, but Jake’s protectiveness prevented it. He just didn’t know if it was to protect the system or her.  

“I think it would be quite nice to have a soulmate.” Steven mused.

Jake had to hand it to Steven, he made it seem like a dream come true. And even though Jake wasn’t as terrified or reserved as Marc, he was worried about putting her in danger.  

“No, it’s not nice. It’s a danger.” Even Jake could hear the self-doubt in Marc’s tone.  

“Doesn’t matter.” Jake said as he walked into the apartment. “No one but me, sees her.”  

Jake sighed as he took in all the green around the apartment. He truly never realized how many plants Steven had.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I walked down the street. Photo day was always interesting. It always amazed me how many people would pay for historical photos from New York. As I looked over the last few photos I had taken, I bumped shoulders with someone.  

“Oh, I’m so...” I looked at the person. “Sorry. Jake?”  

He looked like Jake, but he didn’t wear a flat cap or facial hair. His shoulders also seemed to curve a little.  

“oh uh...” He began to stumble over his words before looking around and pulling me away from the crowd.

“Jake, what is it?” I blinked a few times and realized the brink wall behind him was now something other than grey. When I placed my hand on his chest, I could see the red string exactly as it should be seen. “Jake?” I looked at him but found his attention had moved to the space around us.

“Bloody hell.” I stepped back from the man who looked like Jake.

“W-who are you?”  

He looked back at me and quickly took my hand. “It’s okay, I’m not gonna hurt you.” The British accent threw me but his thumb rubbed against my hand in soothing circles.

I took a deep breath and looked at him. “Please explain.”

He nodded and gulped. “My name is Steven Grant. Jake Lockley, the man you’ve been meeting is an alter.”

I blinked at him, “You have DID.”

He tilted his head, “How..?”

“I took psychology in college, stuck with it for a while. Didn’t understand why it interested me so much.” My voice got quiet as I took in the deep red of his shirt before setting my hand against his chest. “Guess I know why now.”  

Steven set his hands over mine. “Jake is very protective, he wouldn’t let... me meet you when I first asked.”  

I could tell the ‘me’ was supposed to be plural but for now I would let it go. I smiled lightly and nodded my head. “Yea I get that vibe from him.” I giggled a little as his thumb brushed against my red thread.  

“Could I buy you tea,” Steven smiled. “Or coffee. I know American’s prefer coffee; Jake certainly makes sure I remember.”  

I couldn’t help laughing. “I would like that very much.”  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Steven was completely different from Jake. He had thrown himself into being around me. He even took me on dates. Though Jake had started to loosen up, having me sit up front when he drove me places. Keeping his hand on my knee as he drove.  

Though I felt they were both still keeping something from me. Or someone. There were still colors I couldn’t make out, some were dull.  

It was when Jake finally invited me to their apartment that I realized there was someone else.

“So it’s not just you and Steven?” I asked looking over a notebook that had writing in it that didn’t match Steven’s clean script or Jake’s messy quick writing.  

“How long have you known?” I felt Jake behind me before his arms encircled my waist.

“Since I met Steven. He was hesitant on the ‘me’ part when he explained you didn’t want them to meet me.” I ran my finger over the writing. “He must be military. The way he writes.”

“He was, didn’t last long.” Jake’s grip tightened around me holding me against him.

“I can imagine.” I closed the journal and turned in Jake’s arms. “I would really like to meet him.”

“That last little bit of color bothering you as well?”  

I nodded my head and buried my face into his chest. “It’s so annoying.”

Jake chuckled and kissed my head. “Steven and I will talk with him later and see if we can convince him.”

“Okay.” I looked up at him, “Can I know his name?”

“Marc. Marc Spector.”

[angelasscribbles]

Hinge: Reconciliations

Series: Hinge.

Fandom: The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir

Pairings: Drake x Riley x Liam

Word count: 3,505

Rating: PG

Warnings: none  

A/N: A place where I feel canon failed us was never really letting Liam truly confront Constantine about his hand in the setup, nor Drake with Bastien. So I wrote it. This would take place not long after Homecoming Part Two.

Everything else: Master List.

 Liam x Constantine

“Finally, you come to see me!” Constantine struggled to sit up. A nurse hurried over to adjust his pillow then retreated quickly to give them privacy.

Liam felt so many emotions pull through him as he stood in his father’s presence for the first time since he’d learned that Constantine was behind the setup that had almost cost him the woman he loved.

He had been prepared with anger, hurt, righteous indignation, and condemnation. He would be well within his rights to express all of the above. But it lodged in his chest as his eyes took in the sight before him.

The hale and hearty man Liam had known all his life had been replaced. Constantine had gone downhill rapidly in the scant few weeks since he’d last seen him. The man in front of him now was frail, weak, and puny. He barely looked like the father Liam remembered from a month ago as he lay, pale and listless, against the stark white hospital sheets.

“You’ve been home for days!” A thread of his usual regal demeanor showed through as Constantine glared at his son.

Just like that, the anger was back as Liam returned his father’s glare, “I’ve been busy repairing what you tried to destroy!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Riley! You were behind the setup!”

A sliver of regret flitted through his eyes, before demanding, “Is that what all this is about?”

“All what?”

“This!” Constantine gestured around the palace’s private hospital room, “Do you think I haven’t noticed that I’m practically a prisoner in my own home? That my personal guards have been rotated out and replaced with men that I never chose? I may be dying but I am neither stupid nor blind!”

“I can’t trust you, Father!”

“I was trying to protect you, son!”

“From what? Being happy?”

“From being hurt and from being perceived as weak! And I was right! Look what happened! You broke an engagement, something that is unheard of for royalty, and a day after you announced your engagement to a non-council-approved commoner, the palace itself was attacked! You were attacked! She was attacked! Your best friend was shot and almost killed! Can you really tell me that you don’t believe those things are connected?”

“Yes, Father, I can! And I’ll tell you why! The attack on the palace was well coordinated and executed with precision. That took time to plan. Definitely more than a day. More than the few days between my broken engagement to Madeleine and the Homecoming Ball. That attack would have taken place regardless of who my fiancée was!”

“Hmph!” Constantine scoffed but he looked thoughtful for a moment before replying, “I’ll concede that might be true but Liam…son…I know you don’t want to hear this, but that girl isn’t trained for this! She-“

“She can learn everything she needs to learn! She’ll have advisors, friends, and plenty of support, she’s not like Leo’s mother who came here with nothing and nobody! She has the Beaumonts, she has Lady Hana and Olivia, she has Drake-“

“Drake!” Constantine snorted, “If you’re smart, and you really intend to marry this girl, you’ll send Drake Walker far away from here!”

Liam’s mouth fell open, “Why would you say that?”

“That boy’s in love with her and if you can’t see it, you’re a fool!”

“I’m aware of his feelings,” Liam scoffed.

“Yet you still plan to make him her cultural attaché?”

Liam laughed but there was no humor in it, “I see being confined to that bed under armed guard hasn’t kept you from your intelligence network.”

“Liam,” Constantine paused to catch his breath before continuing, “I’m not your enemy.”

“You certainly feel like my enemy right now,” Liam said brokenly as he finally sat, taking the chair next to his father’s bed, “Of all the people in the world, I never imagined it was you that tried to destroy me!”

“That wasn’t my intention, I love you! Everything I did, I did to protect you!”

“I want to believe that, to believe you, I really do,” he released a slow sigh as his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose, “please explain your reasoning. I’m listening.”

“Thank you. I just need a drink first,” Constantine reached for the water on the bedside table with shaking hands. Liam leaned forward and helped him steady the cup. When he was done, Constantine replaced the cup, took a deep breath, and began, “You know what happened with Leo’s mother, Helena.”

Liam nodded.

“I loved her. I was devastated when she left me. And weakened. It’s hard to rule from a place of heartbreak. I didn’t want to see that happen to you! I promised your mother, as she lay dying in my arms, that I would always protect you! I couldn’t watch history repeat itself, I couldn’t break my promise to Eleanor!”

Liam watched in astonishment as his father dissolved into tears. He had only seen his father cry once before, the night his mother had died. He shook his head as confusion spilled through him, “But why would you assume that history was going to repeat itself?”

“Because if a noblewoman from Cordonia, who was raised for it, couldn’t handle the pressures of the throne, I didn’t think that a waitress from New York could!”

“Even if that had been true, it was my mistake to make! But it wasn’t a mistake! Riley is not a mistake! She can handle it; I wouldn’t have proposed to her if I didn’t believe that. How can you entrust me with an entire country, but not my own love life?”

Constantine slumped against his pillows in defeat, “I thought I could save you pain down the road by breaking the two of you up before you got too attached. I didn’t realize that it was already too late. When I saw you after the coronation, I…I regretted my actions, but then the morning the engagement tour kicked off, you seemed in good spirits, so I thought maybe-“

“I was in good spirits because I had found the loophole! From there it was a matter of winning her trust back and finding Tariq so her name could be cleared. Neither of which was an easy task! Both of which pulled time and attention away from the very duties you wanted me focused on! All the pain and anguish I suffered was at your hands, not hers!”

“I know,” he croaked out, “I’m sorry son. I was wrong. Can you ever forgive me?”

“I want to,” Liam’s voice cracked, “but I don’t know if I can! I need a little time…”

Constantine’s voice trembled, “Time is something I find myself in short supply of these days.”

“I know,” Liam reached for his father’s hand, “that’s why I’m here. I’m not leaving until we’ve hashed this out.”

Tears streaked down the old man’s face as he squeezed his son’s hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

Riley x Regina

Riley pushed the food around on her plate disinterestedly. Her eyes flicked to the woman sitting across from her before dropping back to her plate.

Regina noticed, “I know you only agreed to this luncheon because Liam asked you to.”

Riley carefully placed her fork on the plate in front of her then leaned back in her chair, bringing her eyes up to the older woman’s face, “I would do anything for Liam.”

“Is having lunch with me really that bad?”

“I’m not sure,” Riley lifted the linen napkin from her lap to her mouth then dropped it onto the table before continuing, “Were you involved with, or did you have knowledge of, the conspiracy to set me up and cause a false scandal?”

Regina raised her eyebrows in appreciation as she lifted her glass, “Direct and to the point. I like it. That’s a good quality in a queen.”

“A position you never wanted me to assume.”

“Oh, my dear, that’s simply not true,” Regina waved one hand in the air as she sat her drink down with the other, “Yes, I advocated for my niece because she was better prepared for the actual job. But anyone with eyes could see how Liam felt about you. I was prepared to take you under my wing and guide you into the role. Then the scandal broke. Are you telling me that was a setup?”

“Are you telling me that you didn’t know that all along?”

“Yes, dear, I am.” Regina waited patiently while staff cleared the plates and then sat desert in front of them, “Who would do that, and why?”

Riley kept her eyes locked on Regina so she could gauge her reaction, “You should ask your husband that question.”

Regina’s fork faltered halfway to her mouth, “What?”

Riley noted to herself that Regina’s surprise seemed genuine as she replied, “Constantine decided that I wasn’t fit for the throne and took it upon himself to have the lock on my door disabled and to send a drunken man into my room under the mistaken impression that I wanted to sleep with him.”

Regina closed her eyes briefly then fixed Riley with a level stare, “Well that explains your chilly attitude toward me. I can assure you that had I known about any such plot, I would have intervened and put an end to it.” Precisely why her husband hadn’t told her. “My husband can be misguided and pigheaded, but he loves his children. Whatever he did, I’m sure he thought it was in Liam’s best interests.”

“But he-“

The queen mother held her hand up to forestall Riley’s protests, “I’m not excusing his behavior. I’m telling you that he’s old, dying, and terrified of not being there to guide his son into his new role. Do you know how long a new Cordonian king traditionally has the counsel of the former monarch?”

Riley shook her head no.

“Ten to twenty years. That’s a decade or two of having the advice and guidance of the last person to do the job. Liam is going to have his father for months, maybe weeks at this point.”

“I’m not insensitive to the fact that he’s dying,” Riley shook her head, “but he didn’t just hurt me, he hurt Liam and that’s the part that I’m having a hard time forgiving. I don’t care that he went after me. I understand that my credentials are not up to what he had expected and wanted for his son.”

Regina smiled approvingly as she turned her attention back to the apple pie in front of her, “You do love Liam, that’s clear.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Well, that gives us some common ground, then, doesn’t it?”

Riley studied the other’s woman’s face for a moment before begrudgingly conceding, “Yes, I believe it does.”

The rest of their time together was spent discussing matters of court, governance, and decorum.

When the meal was over, Riley pushed away from the table, “This has been illuminating, but I need to get back to the hospital now.”

“Do you really think that’s wise, dear?”

Riley paused, turning back to look at her future mother-in-law, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“People are going to notice your devotion to your…guard.”

“I don’t care if they do! He took a bullet to save my life! And not just because he’s my guard, but because he loves me, and he loves Liam! Drake is not a liability and I think any monarch that seems indifferent to the health of the person that took a bullet to save them would be viewed by the public as cold and heartless!”

Regina took in her expression as Riley’s face darkened, “I can see you’re very passionate about both of them. Just…be careful. The press can be relentless. As you’ve already discovered.”

Was Regina tacitly acknowledging, and accepting, the arrangement between Liam, Drake, and herself?

“Yes, I have. Don’t worry, I will.”

Drake x Bastien

Drake looked up when the door to his room opened. He had been expecting Riley, but it was too soon for her to be back from her luncheon with Regina.

The last person he had expected was Bastien.

“How are you doing?” the older man asked as he made his way to Drake’s bedside.

“What are you doing here?”

“I guess I deserve that,” Bastien sighed as he sat in the chair next to the bed.

There had been a time when he would have been at Drake’s side the moment it was safe to do so. A time when he would have been in that ballroom to protect Liam. Instead, he’d been in bed asleep when his king, his country, was attacked. He was no longer in the loop so he found out like everyone else, on the news. He would have come to see Drake sooner, but the hospital was locked down in the immediate aftermath of the attack and he was no longer on the ‘let through security’ shortlist. He still wasn’t, but the entire hospital was no longer on lockdown, just the floor Drake was on and the guard at the top of the hallway had recognized him and let him through.

“You deserve a lot worse, Bas,” Drake was angry, and hurt. He felt betrayed by the man he thought of as a father.

“I understand why you’re mad, and you have every right to be…but….I just had to see for myself that you’re okay. I know I’m not great at showing my feelings, but I love you and your sister-“

“If you love me, how could you do what you did, huh? You just sat there and watched me go out of my mind trying to clear her name, the whole time knowing you had all the answers!”

“Constantine ordered-“

“I don’t care what Constantine did!” Drake roared as he sat straight up in the bed, causing pain to shoot through his shoulder, “Fuck!” His hand flew up to cover the wound as he slumped back against the bed.

“Are you okay?” Bastien moved closer to the bedside, reaching for the wounded shoulder.

Drake shoved his hands away, “I’m fine! Stop deflecting! I understand that you had to follow orders, but the moment Liam was crowned, your loyalty should have shifted. The Guard serves Cordonia and its leader, not any one individual man. You taught me that!”

“That is true. My only defense is that I was ashamed of what I had done, I truly believed what I had been told, that Liam was better served married to Madeliene, and I didn’t know there was a loophole. I thought it was too late anyway, that there was no way out of the engagement for him, so what was the point? And I swear, I honestly had no idea where Tariq had gone!”

“But you didn’t really look for him either, did you?”    

Bastien dropped his head into his hands with a deep exhale, “No. I did not.”

“You could have at least given us a head’s up, Bas.”

The older man’s head swung up at the notes of hurt and betrayal in his godson’s voice, “You’re right. I could have. But I thought the girl was on a plane back to America that night. I had no idea until she showed up at Fydelia that she was still even here and if you’ll remember, no one bothered to tell me that an investigation had been launched to clear her name!”

“Yeah, well, turns out we were right not to trust you!”

Bastien stared at him in astonishment, “Had my king questioned me, even once, I would have come clean immediately. In fact, I did, once the question was asked. How can you doubt my loyalty?”

Drake’s anger faltered a little. Bas had a point. He had come clean the moment he was questioned about anything relating to the investigation, and he hadn’t known about it before then. But he had known Riley wasn’t on that plane that night.

“But you did know, Liam told you to release the Beaumonts and send them after her!”

“But that was the last time I was privy to anything regarding her! When she didn’t show back up at court in the days following the coronation, I assumed she had chosen to leave the country. When Constantine ordered me to track her down and ensure she had left the country, I refused, as I’ve already told you. Furthermore, I have never refused a direct order from Liam. My volunteering information would have moved up the date that you had all the information, but it wouldn’t have helped you find Lord Lambros any faster because, as I’ve said, I didn’t know where he had gone.”

Drake considered that. Normally he’d call bullshit, Bastien knew everything that went on under his watch. But he and Liam had gone to great lengths to ensure that no one had known where she had been until that night in Fydelia.

At most, Bastien was guilty of not voluntarily disclosing information about orders given, and carried out, under the previous regime. Not exactly treason but also not exactly trust-inspiring. “You knew she was innocent.”

“What does that matter? Neither the press nor the royal council care what I have to say, unless I were to divulge the former king’s role in the setup, a scandal that the crown can ill afford.”

Again, it was a fair point. But Drake wasn’t ready to let him off the hook just yet, “You knew how Liam and I both felt about her though! You could have helped-“

“No!” Bastien leaned forward as he hissed, “I told you I didn’t know about the loophole! Knowing that his father had been behind the setup would have only hurt Liam, I didn’t see how it could help him in any way! So, it’s not that I maliciously withheld information, it’s that I didn’t see the point in disclosing it! Tariq was gone, the damage was done, and Constantine was dying! Liam was weeks away from his wedding to Madeleine! I didn’t see the point!”

“But she was innocent-“

“And there was no way to prove that without either Tariq’s statement or revealing Constantine’s role in it, something that even Liam wasn’t willing to do! So, again, I didn’t see the point!”

Drake had run out of objections. Everything Bastien said made sense. He had only one question left, “But what about me? You knew how I felt about her, you knew she was important to me!”

“But she didn’t need her name cleared to be with you....”

Drake stared at him in stunned silence before whispering, “Please tell me that you did not withhold this information because you thought you were helping me!”

“I-“ his eyes dropped to his lap.

“Bas! No! I didn’t want her by default! I wanted her name cleared so she could make an actual choice and because she doesn’t deserve to have something like that hanging over her for the rest of her life!”

Bastien shook his head, “You deserve to be happy, too, Drake but that wasn’t why, I swear! I did consider that it might be a fringe benefit if it opened up the possibility for you to have the woman you loved, but again, if I had known about the loophole, and the investigation and thought that my input would have helped clear her name, I would have spoken up sooner. I promise on my friendship with your father!”

“Fine,” Drake huffed, “I believe you. I’ve made some stupid mistakes in my time so I can’t judge you too harshly. I just need to know that I can trust you moving forward.”

“You can. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry for the rift I’ve put between us.”

“Me too, Bas. Me too.”

The two men locked gazes, both with the same thought in their heads. Perhaps this was a start at mending that rift.

Drake hoped so. The scandal had been cleared, things had been set back to right and the future lay spread out in front of all of them.

Now all he had to do was catch the would-be assassins and shut down whatever this new threat was, help Liam reassure the public that Cordonia was still a safe place to live, and keep their allies from deserting the ship all while planning and executing security for the royal wedding, an enormous undertaking under the best of circumstances, much less while he was functioning at a deficit, Liam and Riley were being targeted and his faith in whom he could trust had been shaken to it's core.

The door opened again and this time it was Riley. He looked up, his breath caught in his throat, and his heart skipped a beat, just as it always did when he looked at her. Determination swirled through him. He couldn’t lose her. He wouldn’t lose her! He’d find a way to fix it all and keep her safe.

He had to.

[mischiefmaker615]

Jealous

Rating: PG

Summary: apparently Loki isn't quite fond of other males in the picture 

One moment you are bantering with Loki and the next thing you knew, he’s disgusted as you to see if he could beat your ‘you wouldn’t last one day as me’ comment. You two weren’t dating, but there was plenty of teasing from the team on how both of you liked each other but there was no way in hell you two were going to admit that. Just recently though, Loki seemed to have a slight change in heart, and although you both argued like cats and dogs, there was a strange fun about it where he just couldn’t help but start flirting after. Soon his replies to your sharp comments became no more than seductive teases and to be honest, you didn’t know whether you loved it or it fired you up even more. Anyway, apparently, he proved he could be you alright, somehow completed a day as a SHIELD technician but somehow, that’s not what had concerned you, it was when he got back that got your feathers all puffed up. After a good few minutes of ‘I told you so’s’ by a smug Loki who was now in his usual form and attire- leather, green and gorgeous, you finally had enough and walked away in a huff.  He was careful to keep his teasing, airy tone even though he wanted to grit his teeth "and by the way, I got you a date for tonight. The chivalrous Rogers is coming this evening for coffee."

You came to a dead halt as your cheeks reddened, spinning on your heels to face him and saw he seemed dead serious on what he just said. ‘’Steve and I are just friends- why did you possibly think setting up a date was necessary??’’ ‘Could it be that she truly hadn't noticed Rogers' subtle advances?’ Loki thought as he crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame as he watched you from the center of your room. ‘’let us understand darling that I did not ‘set up’ this little event, he merely asked and seemed to be rushed off before I could give a proper answer. But if you are so blind as to see this man has feelings for you, allow me to explain from my own observations.’’ He smirked, noticing how your brow twitched at the very thought. ‘’Perhaps it was because while I was you, he brushed his fingers against mine while taking the files from me. Or the fact that he looks truly disappointed whenever I mentioned- as you, that I needed to hurry and finish up to return back to your precious god of mischief’’ he rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in play thoughtfulness, "I think he's jealous of me to be quite frank, but perhaps I should be jealous of him..." he gaze dropped back down to you to see your blushing face, full of denial and confusion. Cap was attractive, without a doubt and a true gentleman.. but most f his attempts at flirting you tried to ignore before.. you didn’t see or feel for him in that way regardless. He was your first friend when you joined SHIELD many years ago; you trained together, worked and hung out in group settings at the tower.. have you really been blind to any hints that he had feelings for you? And perhaps it had slipped your mind to warn Loki before he posed as you at SHIELD to keep to himself anyway considering most men there seemed to always see you as eye-candy.. ‘’he and I are just friends.. S-Steve wouldn’t do those things-‘’ "Wouldn't he?" Loki questioned, lacing the words with a teasing tone, though the question was a real one. Even though Loki couldn't say he particularly liked the man, he had to admit that he wasn't stupid. Steve saw a quality woman in Y/N and from what Loki had noticed, once he's made his decision, he's not one to back down. Loki wouldn't have guessed that he and Rogers had anything in common, but it seems they both had good taste. "Rogers is a man, and a man with a heart at that. You think he wouldn't attempt charming a woman as worthwhile as you?" Your cheeks reddened for another reason now, moving your eyes away from Loki as he spoke to you, your heart fluttering at the words he said and yearned for him even more. Loki could be an ass hole sometimes, but he’s also adopted a kinder side recently, something you truly believed was the real him. but at times you couldn’t help if it was him just teasing or mocking you, like some cruel prank he conjured to amuse himself. shaking your head, you push past him, wings folding tight so you wouldn’t knock him down in the process. As Y/N pushed past him, he let his fingers run along a wing as it brushed against him, savoring the softness of it, trailing the line of your metacarpal and flanges, "Glad to hear that I have nothing to be jealous about, though. I'm not particularly fond of sharing." he pushed off the doorway to leisurely follow after you, his eyes starving as he looked you up and down from behind. ‘’Trust me, I'd prefer it if he didn't come, I'd much rather it just be us." You came to your final halt, feeling him last minute stop himself as he dumped lightly into your wings and turned to face him, a finger poking his chest to try to seem more intimidating considering he was taller than you. ‘’since you got us into this mess than I will have to deal with it. As usual. I’ll get this coffee thing over with here but I require you to remain in your chambers until the hang out is finished.’’ Hang out seemed a bit more swallowable than the word date. Loki grinned at your red face and the finger you jabbed him with. You were such a stunning creature and that flush, that almost innocent way you got flustered, it stirred up his heartbeat, making him want to run his fingers over other places on you beside just your wings.  Sighing, he tucked his hands behind his back in a casual effort to keep his hands to himself, "But must I be sequestered away in my chambers, darling? That seems a dull night and, besides, I'd like to keep my eye on the captain. I'll greatly enjoy the dirty looks he'll no doubt send me if I do join you." Loki could already see it now. Of course, the Captain would want time alone with Y/N to prove to himself that Loki was nothing but a job, but Loki didn't want to give him the satisfaction or the opportunity for him to 'make a move' as the Midgardians say. "If I'm on my best behavior, will I get a reward?" He leaned down closer to you, looming over ever so slightly as he took in your features, a mischievous glint in his eye, "Speaking of which, I still need to cash in on my first reward since I followed through on our agreement flawlessly." Was he truly.. jealous? ‘’..how about a nice warm handshake as your reward considering you still got us into this mess.’’ You offered but he merely gave you a smile as if he were dealing with a small child.  "That's quite generous of you, darling, and a tempting offer. Perhaps... perhaps I'll ask for that next, but no. My request for you is much smaller and simpler.’’ He rested his chin on his folded fingers as he examined you, a sly, cat-like grin curling his lips, "What I want from you, dearest Y/N... my humble request is for you to tell me, with full sincerity, one thing that you truly like about me. That is my prize. No sarcasm or agent-like propriety, just a kind, direct truth." He meant it. Those words had been a gift, more precious to him than you probably knew. Your eyes widened as he gave you an answer you didn’t expect- compared to a thousand you thought of what he wanted. How was this much simpler than a handshake? Sincerity? Truth? Something you liked about him.. you stepped backed ever so slowly as he advanced with the same speed, holding eye contact as you seemed to search in his eyes for any hint that what he said was what he actually said. ‘’y-you..’’ you stutter before you fall about into a chair, hands gripping the arms as your eyes slowly move back up at him and you bit your lip.  You did have feelings for him.. your sarcasm was pretty much a way of keeping it down, denial in a way, or perhaps your own way of expressing your true feelings in the only way you knew how- considering your species was a bit on the violent side to begin with.. but looking up at him now, who waited patiently, despite a slight playful grin at what he knew what he was doing to you.. he deserved it. He’s changed so much considering from how he started, and the fact that he’s put a bit of effort and that he was trying to adapt and get along here since New York.. well, ‘’..your.. well, you’re You. There’s not exactly a word to put it.. when you know what you want, your determined and work hard to get there. Despite how you feel towards particulars, in the end you try your hardest to accommodate to those whom you actually like.. and despite your given god title, you always seem to tell the truth first and use honesty towards others from the beginning.. regardless of how sharp it may come out but at least you hold your ground against those who are trying to tear you down..’’ at the end, Your eyes began to slowly lower and your voice quieted but Loki knew you were finished. He had only asked for one but it seemed like your heart wanted to flood out, it seemed like what you liked about him was.. him just being him. In a fluid motion, he crossed the small distance between you both. Bending down, he rested his hands on the armrests on either side of you. His movements were steady and slow, so as not to have you shrink back from him at all. He didn't want to frighten or intimidate you or make you feel trapped or unsafe in anyway, but he wanted your full attention on him. Looking down at you, he waited patiently until you'd lift your gaze to look up at him again. "Shall I return the favor?" His gaze trailed your features as he offered a soft smirk, "There's so much good to be said of you, darling. You, dear Y/N, have integrity. No one dares doubt you or your intentions. You and your heart are too good and beautiful for anyone to question if your heart is in the right place. Beyond that, you have the strength of will and character to stand up and actually bring your good intentions to life. You don't waste your skills and talents. You don't back down. You won't be cowed by anyone, even a so-called villain like me. You're ideal, in every sense of the word." You wouldn’t have noticed the tears if one hadn’t had ran down her cheek and he gently reached up and used his thumb to brush it away, allowing his hand to linger where you slowly leaned into his hand. He really thought of that about you? Truly?  "Come now, no tears." He wanted to pull that gorgeous face closer to his, to kiss away those tears, but he knew he couldn't. Rogers was here and was no doubt searching for Y/N. begrudgingly he let his hand slip from your soft skin as you both slowly stood up and he took a step back. "Worry not, I'll put up a little illusion to hide any redness.’’ He commented as he followed through, the flash of light moving over your blushing cheeks and slightly watery eyes as his illusion settled into place, "Can't have the Captain seeing any red eyes. He'll think I've been cruel to you." he chuckled at his joke, trying to lift your spirits just a bit before he bowed, "I'll remain out of sight. Best behavior and all." He offered before turning and leaving down the tower's hall so that the captain wouldn't see you together just as you heard a door open.  ‘’Y/N! thank you for being able to make it- I feel like its been awhile since we’ve had the chance to really catch up’’ Steve beamed as he entered the room and you turned with a new smile on your face. ‘’long time, no see yet I’ll have to agree- even though we saw each other at work’’ you awkwardly laughed, obviously still trying to collect yourself but Loki’s spell seemed to hold up fine when he didn’t seem to notice any previous tears on your face. ‘’true but its not the same as catching up’’ he chuckled and turned to indicate to head over to the kitchen with him and you did. ‘’work can get in the way of things but its good to just relax when you can, I feel like Fury’s been in a bigger mood lately so work might be cut out for us sometime soon’’ he sighed and began making the coffee as you leaned against the center island counter and watched.  You both talked about work a bit and previous missions, laughing and bonding and comparing of the old days, even on some days where you both were partnered up. You both were great together, but you didn’t know if what Loki had mentioned was now getting to your head because you now became aware on just how Rogers seemed to look at you when you spoke. Moving your eyes down to your coffee, you busied yourself by stirring it but your attention was drawn back when Steve’s voice seemed to lower. ‘’so how’s the project coming along?’’ ‘’project?’’ ‘’come on Y/N,’’ he said gently as you both took a seat at the table now, his voice gentle and eyes searching yours ‘’we know you prefer being back in the field, babysitting tends to be on another level of patience’’ he hinted, meaning Loki and you couldn’t help but lightly laugh as you took a sip of your drink. ‘’stubbornness runs in anyone, cant expect adjustments can be immediate, but things are actually coming along nicely, I’d say he’s more than half way adjusted here’’ you told him, not sure why your voice was lowered to, Loki wasn’t here. it wasn’t a secret though; you had volunteered though to be here often to watch over Loki- keep him out of trouble until he’s become more adjusted and trusted to lengthen his boundaries. ‘’but of course there are things back there I do miss..’’ ‘’oh yeah?’’ Steve grinned and your eyes dropped with a slight redness to your cheeks.  The more time you spent with him, the more settle hints you noticed from Steve. The way he looked out you when you spoke, how he listened and laughed and smiled.. the way his body was fully turned towards you at a close proximity you might add where your knees were almost touching. Your drinks were almost finished and it was getting late, but your mind wasn’t finished yet. The pause in conversation left a good gap where your mouth decided to blurt out ‘’we’re just friends right??’’ This seemed to take him back, silent at first as he looked at you with slight confusion and.. well, for the first time in your life, it was hard to read him. you bit your lip as you looked at him as his eyes seemed to search yours in a short amount of time before he chuckled and set down his mug.  ‘’of course we are Y/N, why would you need to ask that?’’ You looked down with slight embarrassment as your fingers played with the handle of the mug ‘’well.. it’s just that- there’s been rumors and I tend to overthink things and don’t want to assume anything and you’re a great guy and all but-‘’ you rambled but you trailed off when he offered a smile and a shake of his head.  ‘’Y/N, you truly are an amazing woman,’’ his voice lowered ever so slightly ‘’but I think we all know you like someone else.’’ Your cheeks reddened at his knowing smile and insinuation to meaning Loki. Your eyes glanced down before meeting back up at his and they were gentle but not hurt as he rests a hand on yours. ‘’hey it’s okay, you’re still my best partner out in the field,’’ he encouraged ‘’but out here we both know who you have feelings for, its just up to you whether or not you want them officially known, so you should really be speaking with a different person.’’ He playfully smirked and leaned back in his chair with a light stretch. ‘’I know you got this, but you rest easy. I should probably take my leave now, got to man headquarters until you return’’ he winked and stood, getting to your feet as well as you looked up at him with a relaxed demeanor now. ‘’I will.. and thank you Steve, I’ll see you on the field soon’’ you promised and picked up the mugs to take to the kitchen as he left you with a small side wave and left down the halls.  That went.. better than you expected, and from what you picked up on, you only sensed honest from him so you knew Cap was going to be okay. Setting the mugs into the sink, you enter the living room and look down the halls, debating whether to let Loki know it was all clear or figured he had went to bed already. ‘’that seemed to go well darling,’’ He strolled out of the dimness behind you, pulling his hands out of his pockets to raise them in mock surrender in case you responded poorly as you turned around but he was far enough to not earn a punch from your little jump scare. The last thing he needed was for you to clock him out of reflex which he knew you were capable of. Giving him a small look, your body relaxed a little as he smiled and walked slowly towards you and you knew you were ready to tell him how you truly felt.  With the same smile, Loki seemed to have been thinking the same thing as he stood in front of you now, shoes close enough to touch your own as your gazes held.  "Before you get upset, I never did fully agree to ‘stay’ in my chambers."

[flurrys-creativity]

Vampire Dad

Pairing: Song Mingi (Ateez) x Fem!Reader; Genre: Fluff, Parent AU, Supernatural AU; Rating: sfw, pg-15; Warnings: vampire mingi, vampire daughter, term of vampire being used for a genetical mutation, mentions of being burned at the stake, a floating child, being bitten, mingi trying to make pancakes, mentions of the superstitions against vampires, upset reader, somewhat angry mingi, ONE suggestive joke; Wordcount: 875

Summary: Vampires were feared by society and the town would do anything to eliminate them. So keeping your family, a.k.a your husband and daughter, save was your utmost priority. Even when your daughter made the task almost impossibly harder.

A/N: I forgot how I got this idea, I just remember it’s @sanjoongie​ ‘s fault... maybe @mingsolo​‘s fault too... yeah probably.. I wrote for Mingi after all :D

You had to fight the urge running straight to your four year old daughter, floating around the living room. Your motherly instincts flared up, wanting nothing more than to save your little girl. Despite the fact she clearly needed no help.

Biting down on your lower lip, you stormed over to the windows instead. You closed the curtains and silently prayed nobody had seen a floating child in your home.

If anyone had, your daughter - no your whole family - would be in trouble. All of you would be burnt on the stake as vampires. 

You sighed as you clutched the fabric, the mental image haunting you. Vampires weren’t real - at least not in the way the media portrayed them. Yet scientists haven’t created a better term for people with a specific genetic mutation. A mutation that portrays some of the common myths about vampires.

Your husband was one of these “vampires” and when your daughter was born she inherited the mutation as well. 

You turned around and glared at your floating kid. Whenever she got her ration of blood to let her small body develop normally, she abused her vampiric powers that came along with it. “Listen here, young lady”, you almost growled while you wagged a finger at her and carefully approached her. “I told you over a hundred times to keep your human appearance.”

She only giggled and shook her head, moving further up and slowly out of your reach.

You inhaled sharply and pressed your lips into a thin line. As much as you wanted your daughter to be herself as freely as possible, you had to make sure nobody would ever know. As soon as your secret got out the people in this town would freak out, fearing the “evil” that the “vampires” would bring upon them.

Without hesitation you jumped up and grabbed your child, pulling it down and into your arms. You were about to scold her again, when she suddenly bit you - her fangs piercing your skin. You let her go reflexively, watching how she floated back up to the ceiling.

Now she glared at you, droplets of your blood running down her chin.

You glared back, ignoring the pulsing pain in your upper arm. “That’s it”, you hissed and stormed out of the living room. 

You surprised Mingi in the kitchen, where he unsuccessfully tried to make pancakes. With the rage roaring inside of you, you pulled Mingi away from the stove and pushed him against the counter top. You stared up at him, needing to breathe deeply several seconds before you could talk to him. 

His eyes flicked over your face and body, shortly zoning in on the bite mark on your upper arm and the slowly drying blood that had trickled down. “What happened?” He asked, voice layered in concern.

“Our daughter happened. Floating in broad daylight. In front of open windows.”

Mingi’s lips twitched with amusement and he quickly relaxed again, grateful it wasn’t anything serious. 

“And when I pulled her down she bit me.”

“Just close the curtains and let her be. She only has those spurts after her blood meal. She’ll be out of power in a few days again.” Mingi shrugged with his shoulders, about to turn back to the stove.

“If you don’t teach our daughter basic vampire 101, I swear to god, I’ll drive a stake through your heart”, you hissed, knowing full well the fury within you made you say such harsh things. You stepped away from him, taking a deep breath. “She bit me”, you said - a lot calmer now - “I can’t believe you’d just let that behaviour slide.” You swallowed the lump in your throat, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “Aren’t you in the slightest bit concerned our baby could be caught? You know what will happen! How could you be so calm about that?”

When the first tear trickled down your cheek, Mingi realised how upset you actually felt. He quickly pulled you against his body and wrapped his arms around your smaller form, rubbing one large hand over your back. Once you had calmed down again and only hid your face against his chest, he called for your daughter.

His eyes narrowed as she floated into the kitchen. “Down. Now.” Mingi watched silently until your daughter stood on the ground, looking up at him with the biggest pout. “You know full well that we have rules, young lady. And you know the consequences for ignoring them.” 

You peaked at your daughter, seeing her nod slowly. “No blood until next year”, she whispered and looked down at the floor.

“And I expect something else from you”, Mingi added, his chin shortly pointing towards you as he stared sternly at your daughter, waiting.

“I’m sorry momma.”

“Sorry for what?”

You hesitantly tugged at Mingi’s shirt, thinking it was already enough but he ignored it.

“Sorry for not listening to you.”

“And?”

“Sorry for biting you too.”

Mingi tightened his hug around you, nodding proudly. “That’s right.” He kissed the top of your head. “Daddy is the only one allowed to bite mommy.”

“MINGI!” You sputtered incredulously, before you started laughing and shaking your head. He always knew how to lighten the mood again. 

© all rights reserved

Taglist: @xavi-in-kpopland​ @songsoomin​ 

[emmedoesntdomath]

YOU WANT A CHARACTER WE KNOW ABOUT

FINE TELL ME ABOUT

KATHERINE MOTHERFREAKING PLUMBER

OKAY AGGRESSION?!?!?!? ANYWAYS-

so katherine (✨motherfucking✨) plumber/pulitzer is- BY FAR- the most unrealistic character in the entirety of the newsies ‘verse, and that’s just a fact. sorry. does this mean I do not adore the woman? don’t put words in my mouth (BRONTEEEEE MY LOVE).

in reality, joseph pulitzer’s daughter katherine died at age 2, from pneumonia. she was the third of seven, and not the only child to pass from illness (her older sister, lucille, who was their father’s favorite, died at 17). as one can probably infer, she was not a journalist who wrote under the byline of katherine plumber.

furthermore, while women were most certainly ALLOWED to be journalists, it was typically common for them to be restricted to the socials, reviews of literatures, and advice columns (this was referenced in the stage version). there are exceptions to this that exist, and i will acknowledge that (look up nellie bly), but that…was typically about it. again. exceptions. noted.

the more important tidbit is that KATHERINE would not have been allowed to be a journalist. she would not have been allowed to be an enterprising woman given her high status. regardless of the journalistic abilities of women, katherine’s own position would have been heavily regulated and diminished.

now that we’ve successfully established that there is little historical basis for her character, let us get to the fun stuff!!!

look, katherine and jack’s relationship in newsies isn’t love, and that NEEDS to be made clear- and that’s okay, actually. they don’t need to be in love. if anything, it’s lust at first sight, because they’re attracted to each other (jack’s also attracted to davey, but do we talk about that? nooooooo) (that was obviously a joke). even then, though, the banter is a tad boring (read: it’s a disney show. it has to be pg. i have full confidence that the banter would have been fabulous if given a full chance).

but katherine ADORES the newsies, because to her, they are the little lost children that she has adopted (no takebacksies). jack thinks she’s insane for willingly inserting herself into the mess, but everyone knows that jack has no room to talk about being insane, so it’s all good. race calls her their stepmom, and she didn’t even get the joke for the first couple WEEKS after he said it (we all know who their mother is) (that’s right, it’s our favorite walking mouth).

she’s best friends with sarah. interpret that as you will.

also, she and race would totally have a girls brunch every saturday where they’d just get drunk off cheap margaritas and shit talk everyone. it would be glorious.

[imdonnalynn]

Not So Simple, But It Is (1/1) REPOST

Summary: Mal and River have a certain bond, but is Mal willing to take the next step?

Pairing: Malcolm Reynolds/River Tam

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 1,448

Warnings: None really, adult situations, talk of adult situations.

A/N: I wrote this over 15 years ago and it's one of the ones I actually still like so I'm reposting here on my tumblr.

Disclaimer: The characters of Firefly (series) / Serenity (film) do not belong to me so do not sue me for copywrite infringement.

----------

Mal sat comfortably in the pilot’s seat of Serenity just gazing out at the stars, thinking. A year passed since the crew risked their lives to uncover the Alliance’s lie about Miranda. A year since Wash and Shepherd died. And just five months ago they found a new pilot, Drake. Mal liked him well enough, and he meshed with the crew alright, but Zoë didn’t associate with him much. Understandably of course he would never be Wash. Zoë put up quit a fuss when Drake was brought on to meet the crew. She argued that River did just fine and no one else was needed. Mal argued in return that River was more useful on a heist for her mental abilities and combat skills. Mal would never admit aloud but he loved to watch River in action. She looked like she danced when she fought. Her mental state improved dramatically in the last year. She honed her abilities, reeled them in. Now it wasn’t so hard to block the crew’s thoughts out. Before Miranda she heard every thought and envisioned just about every memory. There’s no telling what secrets she knows about the crew. But she would never tell any of their secrets.

“Hey little one,” Mal said thoughtfully over his shoulder to River in the doorway. Behind him he heard her tiny feet against the floor as she made her way into the room to sit in the co-pilots seat.

She sat down and placed her feet in the seat and wrapped her arms around her legs loosely. “How did you know I was there?” she asked not prodding his mind. She liked to hear Mal talk and she would purposely find something to talk about just to hear his soothing voice.

“I’d know those tiny footsteps anywhere,” he teased glancing at her then back to the stars.

She rested her cheek against her knee and just watched him. The things she knew about him…would probably shock the rest of the crew. She knew stuff about him that Zoë didn’t even know. Then again, she knew stuff about Mal and Zoë that Wash had not known. That was the case with the crew in general. She missed taking a dip into his mind it was so…enticing but sometimes downright frightening. But it was wrong to just swim around in anyone’s mind no matter how harmless it may seem. People generally took what they thought and imagined for granted. It’s the one place where they have complete privacy, to keep their own fantasies, secrets, and desires. In Mal’s case she saw he was capable of such evil…just like her. She and Mal had more in common than people thought.

It would be so easy…

“What’re you doin’ little one?” his voice held a hidden meaning as he tilted his head to look at her. What he meant was…are you in my mind?

She nodded no against her knee.

He smiled lightly and settled further into the seat and stared back at her. For the longest time they just stared at one another. Something about her eyes were so comforting. They held such strength in them, and he needed that all too often. “What’s got you up and about?” he asked quietly.

“You,” she stated softly.

“Me?” he replied, not really a question.

She nodded then propped her chin against her knee. “You found a way in,” she smiled. “You always find a way in.” She blushed lightly and turned her gaze to the console before her. What the crew dreamed would sometimes make its way into her mind. She could easily block them out…all but Mal. He was her very own guilty pleasure. She knew he knew about her habit, but he never said anything to her aloud. She never told his secrets and he never told hers. An unspoken agreement.

“What did you see?” he’d never asked her before, and he didn’t know why he did now. He knew she understood that he couldn’t help what he dreamed of. Just because you dreamt something didn’t mean you were willing to do it or had done it.

“Dreams are answers to questions we don’t yet know how to ask,” she quoted softly.

What were dreams? Why do we dream what we dream? Are dreams a way of letting our subconscious play? Or were dreams somehow linked to the spiritual world? Were they visions of a possible future? One could never tell. Maybe they’re a way to express your darkest desires and not so excepted habits that everyone would disapprove of if you really fulfilled them?

“I felt it more than saw it,” she admitted softly glancing at him. Her heart leaped at the piercing gaze he held on to her. “I knew it was you…” she trailed off. “I don’t understand though.” She said shaking her head lightly.

He looked away and swallowed the lump in his throat. “Don’t understand what?” he asked knowing they were headed into dangerous waters. Was he ready to have this inevitable conversation? Was he ready to explain to River with words what he felt, or what he wanted?

“You hesitate…” she swallowed nervously. “You think I’m broken.”

Mal sighed heavily and ran a hand through his spiked hair. “River…”

“…everyone thinks I’m broken,” she said sadly.

“You’re not broken River,” he reassured.

“But you think I am,” she pressed.

“I don’t think you’re broken,” he defended himself.

“Then why do you hesitate?” she insisted.

He looked at her sharply, “Because it’s not as simple as you want it to be. The things people do in life don’t just affect themselves but the people around them too. And for me and you…” he trailed off shaking his head. “…it just wouldn’t be right.” He whispered the last little bit.

A tear slipped down her cheek, and she quickly wiped it away before he could see it. She wanted desperately to be seen as the young woman she was. Not the child she was when she and Simon boarded Serenity three years prior. She wasn’t the unstable seventeen-year-old psycho anymore. Granted she still had her spells but that was an unfortunate side effect of her treatment by the Alliance. When she did take a spell, it didn’t last so long, and they were very mild compared to her early days on board. She could fly the ship, go on heists and Mal had even let her make a deal or two with Zoë when he had to stay on board for some reason. So why wasn’t she good enough to be with?

He’s ashamed of you…her conscious whispered.

River gasped and jumped from the chair to her feet and looked frantically around the room. “No…” she whispered covering her ears.

Mal stood instantly and was across the room and in front of her in a matter of seconds. “River?” he took her face between his hands and made her look at him. “You, okay? What’s wrong?” he asked concerned. It’d been months since her last spell, and he hoped and prayed that he hadn’t caused her to fall now. She looked deep into his eyes and took a deep shaky breath. “Mal please, tell me the truth…I want to hear you say it…” she hoped he understood what she needed, what she craved.

Mal clenched his jaw and leaned his forehead against hers. “Truth is…there is nothing in this verse that I want more than to show you how I feel but I’m scared to death River. I’m scared I’ll hurt you more and that’s the last thing you deserve. I don’t see you as a child and I don’t think you’re broken.” He kissed her forehead and let his lips linger. “You are a gift…never let anyone tell you otherwise.” Slowly he traced his lips down the bridge of her nose and rested his lips against hers in a full but soft kiss.

River was assaulted with a wave of emotion and sensation. No one had ever showed her this much affection and it made her stomach clench. The sensations from another person's dream and the actual physical sensation were very much different. He felt so soft but hard at the same time and she wanted to feel more. Did the weight of his body feel the same as it did in his dreams? Her dreams?

“Thank you,” she breathed as they parted.

He shook his head slightly gazing down at her still cupping her face, “No…don’t ever feel like that.”

She understood now. It wasn’t just her he was worried about but himself too. He wasn’t sure if he was ready to go another step. But she would wait…she had too.

THE END