#lifetime together. they won. but they didn’t even hesitate. knowing they might not marry this time. that it might end differently. that they

[ziracona]

Genuinely Futurama had the most beautiful ending to any show I can remember. The impossible sentiment of “Wanna go around again?” “I do.” Followed immediately by the first episode airing after the finale? I’m crying right now typing this.

[edelwoodsouls]

i still pick up at the sound of your call [fic]

"Is that a dalek on tv?" [or: Martha has some choice questions for the Doctor regarding the new Prime Minister's addess]

Inspired by this post

Word Count: 1,799 | Also on Ao3

"Oi, what the fuck is going on?"

The Doctor blinks. Pulls the phone away from her ear, to check the number again, check she isn't hallucinating. She'd hardly believed it when she saw it, hasn't seen those numbers strung together in years, though they're still burned into her mind.

Another life, another time.

Another friend burned to ashes.

She hesitates, for just a moment. Takes a deep breath. "Hey, Martha," she cringes instantly at the hollow lightness of her tone, only drawing attention to the lifetimes between their last words. "What's up?"

A heavy pause on the other end. The Doctor tries to imagine her old companion, for just a moment. She'd promised herself she would check up on her friends from time to time, make sure they were okay, if she could help them from the shadows in any way - but that promise has fallen between the cracks, lost along the way with everything she ever thought was true.

The last time she saw Martha, she saved her life. Moments before her own - his own, back then - had slipped between her fingers.

She'd looked happy. The Doctor could never have predicted Martha and Mickey of all people, but she was glad for them. She had ruined their lives in so many ways by crashing through them, by falling in love with Rose - this was the least they deserved.

So she imagines Martha like that. Curled up on the sofa, cornrowed hair and sparkling eyes. Legs tangled up with Mickey as they watch tv in the burnt orange glow of a dying London afternoon.

Oh, fuck. The tv.

"Uh, hi," Martha answers finally, wrong-footed and uncertain. "I wanted to speak to the Doctor, could you put him on, please? Sorry, I- uh, I'm Martha. Jones. I used to travel with him. I'm guessing you're the new companion? What happened to Donna?"

An unexpected lump rises in the Doctor's throat. Thousands of years - thousands - have passed since she last bothered to check in on Martha Jones. How many companions have been and gone in that time? How many have crumbled to ash beneath her fingers?

She swallows it down, files it under Compartmentalise, and Never Think of Again.

Sunshine. Enthusiasm. Energy. The tenets she's founded herself on this go around. She plasters a bright smile on her face, as if contorting her muscles will trick her tone into believing she means it.

"Just me, I'm afraid," she grins, skipping around the TARDIS to fiddle with the controls to keep her hands busy. "Had a bit of a change of face since you last saw me."

Furious whispers on the other side of the phone, far enough away from the receiver that even she can't hear them. She imagines Martha and Mickey, confusion and surprise warring with each other.

This reveal never gets old.

"Sooo, how've you been? How's Mickey? It's been, what, nearly ten years since you last saw me?"

"Uh, yeah," Martha returns to the phone, hesitant. She's never had to deal with regeneration, really. "I didn't know you could- I mean, when you said you change, I didn't realise that-"

"I can be anything I like! It's great, innit? I could have two heads or green skin if I felt like it. First time I've been a woman, though. Well, first time I remember, I guess. Still haven't been ginger, though. Maybe one day."

"Different face, same amount of energy," Martha laughs, and the sound lifts a weight from the Doctor's chest she didn't even know was there. "Mickey says hi."

"Yeah- hi!" A more distant voice echoes through the phone, startled at being addressed.

"Hi! It's great to hear from you!" She twirls the phone cord around a finger. If there's one thing she always regrets in her lives, it's the way her previous selves treated their companions. Each one with a different idea of relationships, of how things should be done.

This version of her thinks Mickey would be a great companion, if not for her Rose-tinted blinders.

"So, to what do I owe this call? Hope you kids have been keeping out of trouble, though somehow, I doubt it."

"Right!" Martha yelps. The whole regeneration thing definitely threw her for a loop. "Yeah, Doctor, what the fuck is going on? Is that a dalek we just saw on tv?"

"Ah, yeah... it is, yeah."

"And?"

"And I'm sorting it out?" The Doctor glances over her shoulder, towards the corridor the fam disappeared down a few minutes ago to get ready. They'll be back any second.

It's not that the Doctor doesn't want the fam to know about her old companions. They've met Jack, know she hasn't been on her own all this time, but- still.

Her companions don't have the best survival rate. It's selfish, probably, to keep having them, and yet she somehow never goes without them for long.

(She's lonely, she knows it. She's not a good person on her own. She clings to these fragments of knowledge and calls it reason.)

"But why is there a dalek on tv, Doctor? New security drones, that's what they're saying. Do they not remember the whole Earth-moving, twenty-seven planets, dalek invasion thing?"

"Or the Battle of Canary Wharf?" Mickey adds, words heavy with an underlying anger. Rose was lost to save the world from daleks, after all.

The least she deserves is to have her sacrifice remembered.

"I'm not sure, to be honest," the Doctor admits, flinging herself onto one of the crystalline seats near the console. "It's incredibly weird, actually. As far as I can tell, the entire human race has forgotten that aliens exist at all. No stolen Earth, no Titanic flying over London or Racnoss star at Christmas. No Battle of Canary Wharf."

"That's- I mean, how does that even happen?"

"I have no idea. Something to do with collective consciousness, I'd guess. Some manipulation from another race wanting to remove Earth's knowledge and wariness of aliens. The Arkangel network is still flying strong in your orbit, after all. It wouldn't be so hard to harness the technology. Maybe even your own governments, or some rogue branch of Torchwood. I never did find Torchwood 2 or 4."

"Then how the hell do we still remember?"

"Probably my fault. You're still keyed into the TARDIS's neural network, so she's protecting you from the effects. Sorry about that."

"No, it's- it's good," Martha splutters. "Are you going to try and fix it?"

"Maybe," the Doctor leans back in her chair, pulling the phone cord as far as it will go. "Once all of this is over, I might look into it. Just to check if it's malevolent or not. It's not a bad thing, necessarily. To forget. Some of things they must have seen..."

She shakes her head to clear it. Can't let herself stop and think for too long, or she might never escape the whirlpool's tide.

"Anyway," Martha says - she always was good at noticing her spirals, circumventing them. "How's Donna?"

Nevermind. She speaks the words lightly, but in a tone that says she noticed the Doctor's avoidance earlier and is bracing for bad news.

"She's great!" the Doctor manages a smile, glad to have something, anything to latch onto that isn't her own thoughts. "Happily married, actually. Won the lottery a few years ago, doing very well for herself."

"That's- that's really good to hear."

"She doesn't remember me." She lets the words fall, as much as she wishes she could hold them close and buried and gone. But Donna needs to be kept safe, and Martha reaching out to her would be- not good. "She doesn't remember anything that happened. I- I had to wipe her memory, after the daleks. It was killing her."

The silence stretches longer this time, and for a moment the Doctor is sure she's broken everything.

"Well, I'm glad she's happy," Martha says eventually. "There are worse fates, right?"

So many of your companions have had worse fates, she doesn't say, but the Doctor reads between the lines anyway.

"Yeah," she breathes.

"And how are you doing, Doctor? You're not alone, are you?"

"No! I'm great, actually. Got my fam. Yaz is really cool, you'd love her. Ryan and Graham are great. Jack's back in town right now, helped me out of prison-"

"Helped you out of where?"

"-and we're just sorting out this whole dalek thing! Should be all over pretty soon. Just, stay where you are."

"You know we can't do that, Doctor." If anything, Martha sounds amused. Determined. Ready to pick up her sword once again, defend the Earth from whatever might be coming.

In this second, everything is right with the world, and she misses Martha Jones in a way that hurts both her hearts at once.

"Well, stay safe at least. I'll call you back when this is done, to let you know."

"Thank you, Doctor. Maybe we could, I don't know- grab a drink, or something. Catch up."

"I'd like that," she replies, and they both know she has very little intent on following through.

Yaz appears at the end of the corridor, eyes bright, smile warm. She's chattering to someone, probably Ryan, completely oblivious, no weight on her shoulders.

The Doctor wishes she could keep Yaz like that, happy, delighted, laughing. Wishes that smile was just for her.

But she might have ruined it forever.

She's learnt to trust the TARDIS over the years, learnt that the TARDIS arrives when she thinks the Doctor should be rather than where the Doctor wants to be. She wants to trust that this, too, was for a good reason. The TARDIS has never led her wrong, in the end.

She has to believe.

"Well, I'll let you crazy kids go be heroes. Beat up some daleks for me, will you?"

"Of course, Doctor," Martha says. The Doctor imagines her smiling, linking fingers with Mickey. "Stay safe out there."

"Always," the Doctor grins. As Yaz and Ryan approach, she jumps up, throws the phone back on its hook and grabs hold of the TARDIS's controls.

"Who was that?" Yaz asks, wary, unsure of how to act around her. They need to sit down and talk, hash out the last ten months - and nineteen years - but now isn't the time.

Unfortunately, the time rarely seems to appear.

"Just an old friend checking in," the Doctor shrugs, avoiding her new companions' eyes. "There's daleks on the tv, haven't you heard? Let's fix that."

She throws the TARDIS into flight with a delighted whoop - after all these years, the thrill of flight never quite fades.

She's lost companions before, but as Martha’s call has reminded her, not all of them have met bad ends.

She refuses to let the fam down on that one, too.

[serzhantkris]

Something Worth Fighting For- 14

Summary: You’ve just begun to settle into life as an Avenger when a mission gone awry divides the team in half, and a familiar face shows up just in time to make you second guess your every choice. Third installment of the Worth Fighting For Series.

Words: 1739

AN: So, we are almost to the end of SWFF. We will probably be wrapping up around ch 17!

Part 13  Masterlist

How many sunsets could you say that you had seen in your lifetime? It had to have been thousands, all of them unique, their colors painting the endless sky and yet always familiar. No matter where you were, the forests of Algeria or the Russian tundra, sitting on a bench in New York City or here, watching the sky fall asleep over Wakanda, there were always sunsets. The sun didn’t stop for war.

It’s quiet, behind the big glass windows that overlook the expanse of fields and trees that make up the country. A winding river weaves through the fields, past distant farmlands and vanishing into the forest. It’s like looking into another world from where you stand, the white walls smelling of bleach, machinery stacked at the back of the room creating a disjoint from what is behind you to what is in front of you.

The whir of the sliding doors announces his presence before the soft footsteps that carry him to your side. He pauses, following your gaze out the window. The sun sets, slowly, like the sky is melting on the world. Bucky’s hand slides into yours, grasping tightly to your palm.

You finally turn to look at him, at the way the fluorescent lights ignite the blue of his eyes. He’s shaved, his beard shaped and trimmed neatly. The way Commander Phillips would have approved of. His hair is combed back from his face, the scent of shampoo clinging to the clean strands. There’s a soft smile on his pink lips, and it’s the first time in a long time that there isn’t dirt plastered to his skin.

“Do you remember,” he starts, looking out and up at the stars that fill the blue-black blanket nestling over the sky. “The night before we went after Zola?”

Seventy years later, and you still haven’t forgotten. Somewhere in a distant memory, you can still feel the warmth of the campfire, of Bucky’s hands twisting your hair into a braid as he told you about his sister and made promises of a future; and the terrible feeling of dread. The feeling that had come to fruition and sent you spiraling toward an entirely different future.

“Yes.”

Bucky nods. “We won the war.”

A mechanical whirring echoes in the hospital-like chamber and you glance down, frowning at the metal that glimmers dark and black in the bright lights. Bucky had promised you once, so long ago, that it didn’t matter what he lost as long as he had you. He had paid the price. And what sacrifices did you make? A mechanical body. Night terrors. Living through the deaths of everyone you’d held near and dear.

And now, after all this time, the two of you were standing side by side in Wakanda, your hand in his, and it was quiet. Was this what it had all been for? Was it finally over?

“Did we?”

Bucky looks at you, finally, and even now in the safety of Shuri’s lab, far away from Zola and Johann Shmidt and Hydra and Zemo and Tony Stark- he looked tired. No amount of sleep seemed to be enough.

The war, this battle that you and Bucky had been fighting your whole lives, had taken everything. It had taken everything and given back some, but nothing was the way it was before.

The light beyond the window had started to fade. It no longer touched the glass, drawing long shadows over the fields below. Reflections of you and Bucky had become clearer in the window, and you studied them carefully. Bucky was still looking at you, a loose piece of hair slipped past his shoulder and his metal hand tucked into a pocket on his modified jacket. 

“Shuri’s working on… Something.”

Your brows knit in confusion and Bucky sighs through his nose. Reaching out, you tuck the loose hair behind his ear. “What’s ‘something?’”

He hesitates, tumbling words in his mouth until he finds the right ones. “Something to fix me.”

You let go of his hand, turning toward him, finally letting the open air between you come to a close. Your hands slide over the coarse, neat beard and hold onto his face. 

“You don’t need fixing-“

“I do,” he says, hands wrapping gently around his wrists. He holds them there, eyes fluttering closed and head tipping forward until his forehead touches yours. “I can’t trust my own mind, Y/n. So-“

He takes a breath and your eyes slam shut, squeezing, lights dotting your vision as your hands grip the sides of his head, begging him not to say another word. 

“Until they figure out how to get this stuff out of my head-“

Your lips trembled and Bucky’s hands squeezed your wrists. A tear slid through your lashes, and then another. 

“I think going back under is the best thing-“

A choked sob catches in your throat as a tear rolls onto your lip. 

“For everybody.”

Your eyes open and you pull back. Bucky’s right hand lets go of your wrist,  carefully brushing the tears away. 

“That’s not fair,” your voice cracks and the barrier, the wall that stood between you and feeling has collapsed, and it hurts worse than being shot, worse than losing half your body. “I just got you back.”

“I know,” Bucky’s voice is a whisper, and his hand cups the side of your face, thumb still brushing the apple of your cheek. “But it’s the right thing to do.”

“It’s not fair,” you cry again, your chest tight and body shaking. Anger swallows your heart, not at Bucky but because you know he’s right. “It isn’t fair.”

Bucky lets go of your wrist and pulls you closer, holding the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest. You clutch the front of his jacket, knuckles white, and seventy years of pain, seventy years of grief and loss comes pouring out of you. Bucky does not move, only holds you tighter, closer, as though he could push you right through his chest and into his heart. The sound of your sobs filled the room, and while your heart is broken now, both you and Bucky know this is the only way to mend it.

Seventy-two hours. You had seventy-two hours until the stasis chamber was ready. Seventy-two hours until Bucky would go under, until he would be on the other side of the glass for God knew how long. You had been tossing and turning all night, your mind turning endlessly. Your eyes kept finding Bucky in the dark, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he slept. You wanted to commit it to memory, not wanting to miss even a second before he’d be gone once again.

The bed creaks under his weight as he moves, the sheets tugging down from your chin as he rolls toward you. A sleepy sigh falls from his lips and his eyes flutter open, his chest expanding with a deep breath as he pulls to consciousness.

“Sorry,” you whisper, reaching to brush a piece of hair out of his face. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

He hums softly, reaching to pull you closer. You let him, resting your head against his chest and listening to the soft patter of his heart. Bucky kissed the top of your head, resting his cheek against it with another sigh.

“I love you.”

The words set a fire in your stomach, just like every other time. You pressed a kiss to his skin, letting your lips linger. Bucky slides a leg between yours, tangling the two of you under the sheets.

“We could still have a life,” he says, his hand dancing up your shoulder. You shiver under his touch as the fingers trail over your neck and to your face, lifting it to look at him. The moonlight cast a blue glow over his face, and even with a rugged beard, he looks younger in this moment than he had in years. “When I wake up.”

“Is that a promise?”

Bucky shifts, pushing himself up on an elbow so that he can look at you properly. His hand grabs one of yours, bringing your knuckles to his lips. The bones under the flesh are mechanical, but the skin is real and warm under his lips. 

“I still don’t have a lot,” he says. “We might never have our own roof or regular jobs. Probably won’t have normal lives either. We can’t go back. And I still don’t have a ring-“

Bucky fumbles with your fingers, lacing them between his. You sit up, slowly, the sheets pooling at your waist. Bucky’s eyes trail over your naked torso, tongue between his teeth, and he holds your hand against his cheek. 

“But I still love you. I still want that future, that life, as long as you’re a part of it.” Bucky’s eyes drop to the mess of sheets under the two of you.

“We’ve been fighting so long,” you sigh, tracing shapes on the back of Bucky’s hand. “I stopped thinking about what life might be like if we ever stopped.”

Bucky hums, the sound deep in his throat, and he leans forward to place a soft kiss on your lips.

“We could find out,” he whispers. “When I wake up, if you still want this, this life, this- mess we’ve made of ourselves- marry me.”

Seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours to fill with kisses, to fill with making love and tangling your limbs together. Seventy-two hours in which you could lay the foundation of a future, maybe here in Wakanda where the stars shine brightly and the sun doesn’t stop, where Bucky finally sleeps through the night and where the skies hide you from harm.

“No,” you shake your head, and Bucky’s face falls and there’s a deep hurt etched in the contours of his face. “Bucky, I have loved you through war and death. Our whole lives have been filled with it, and no matter how many times life tries to wrench us away from each other- We always find each other. We always love each other. I’ll be there when you go under, and I’ll still be here when you wake up. But let me do it as your wife.”

Bucky smiled, turning his head to kiss the palm of your hand. He held on tight, kissing each fingertip, each knuckle; his lips trailing over your palm and down the veins of your arm, crawling over you and letting his lips roam everywhere he could reach. 

TAGS OPEN

@sallyp-53​ @cloverrover​ @yknott81​ @feelmyroarrrr​ @ipaintmelodies​ @lostinspace33​ @nuvoleincielo​ @thisuserlovesyouandyouandyou​ @creideamhgradochas​

[angstmongertina]

For King and Country (The Royal Masquerade)

So I was actually a really big fan of The Royal Masquerade, but I am a huge slut for angsty duty vs. the heart and the fact that we could marry Fabian but didn’t even get the OPTION of breaking it off with our current LI pissed me off just a little bit. So here I am writing fic for that particular option because it’s WHAT MY CHARACTER WOULD DO. So, enjoy?

AO3 Link

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There were several things that Lady Caterina of House Aster, the reigning Queen of Cordonia, knew deep down to be true. She knew that the position she had on the throne was tenuous at best, won through harrowing political strife and months of anxious planning and more blood than she cared to think about. She knew that an army was advancing on the capital, led by those who genuinely believed the lies they told about her, that the resulting civil war would tear the kingdom and her people apart. She knew there was only one soul left in the kingdom whose right to the throne could remain uncontested, who could end the devastating conflict before it began, and who would, by that simple fact alone, make for a far better leader than any of the individuals, herself included, who had spent so long vying for it.

She knew that her priorities would always, always, be her family first, her kingdom second, and herself a far distant third, that her costly victory was first and foremost to defeat those who might feel otherwise, that she owed her people true peace, however that might be achieved.

Such were the thoughts that swirled through her mind as she watched the young man before her, carefree and happy with his art. He bore little resemblance to Aunt Elise, at least that she could see, but something about his smile, his mannerisms as he reassured the young children playing nearby, brought to mind that night of the masquerade, more than a lifetime ago now, when she had unknowingly spoken to Queen Kendra. The same kindness, the same grace, was in his soul, and in spite of the faint pang she felt at her friends’ sacrifices going to waste, her mind was calm knowing that the crown was going to good hands.

Perhaps that was what Hunter had felt, only a few short weeks ago. Perhaps, in the end, it was only right that she do the same, for the good of Cordonia.

That may have been why she was taken so aback by his suggestion, by his offer of marriage to a woman he barely knew, whose reputation was in the process of being torn to shreds. That alone was a good reason for her refusal but…

But mirrored within the depths of the open, honest eyes of Fabian Rhys, she saw the young scribe she herself was only months earlier, living a comparatively simple and honest life in the library, far from the extravagant masks and honeyed half-truths of nobility. While her own position may have been a sign that neither birth nor upbringing were essential for political success, her ascension into a role she had not been prepared for had still been accompanied by friends and family and time to prepare.

Fabian, on the other hand, had a larger burden and fewer allies and, most importantly of all, a gentle spirit that had not yet been hardened by the world of politics. A spirit that she would see preserved, if there were anything in her power to do so.

In spite of herself, her gaze flickered towards Kayden, standing at her side. He watched her, as he always did, with that constant respect and unconditional faith that she didn’t deserve. There was no protest on his face, no trace of dissent. Nothing but deep understanding and acceptance, a recognition of the duty which bound them both. That strong sense of duty they shared, which had brought them together, given them understanding of each other and themselves, and which now threatened to drive them apart.

For a moment, she hesitated, but his lips curved into a smile, small and sad and endlessly supportive, and she knew.

Closing her eyes against the pinpricks of heat in her eyes, she drew a deep breath and stepped forward, taking Fabian’s proffered hand. “I accept.”

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She was not entirely surprised to find Kayden waiting for her outside of the coronation ceremony. At her side, as if sensing her hesitation, Fabian nodded, dropping her hand with an encouraging smile and walking swiftly out of earshot. For a moment, she watched his back as he left, already moving with the confidence of authority, but she could not avoid the conversation, not when she owed him far, far more.

“Cat— Your Majesty.” He sank into a low bow, the proper etiquette for a citizen to his queen, but it was not quite quick enough to disguise the emotion that flashed across his face before his usual stoic mask replaced it.

He knew.

As he straightened, she examined him. Dressed in his usual dark colors, it would have been easy to mistaken his attire for his usual leathers, but a closer look revealed that he was dressed in civilian clothing, without any insignias of the Crown Guard.

Which could only mean…

“Kayden.” Dark eyes snapped up to meet hers, a wordless confirmation, and she let a faint smile curve her lips. “I… I’m sorry.”

Almost before the words had left her mouth, he was shaking his head. “Do not be. Cordonia comes first. That is a point that we have always agreed upon. That I have always admired about you.” He drew a deep breath. “Besides, we both knew that this day would come eventually. A commoner, and worse still, a sorcerer, with Cordonia’s queen? It was never anything more than a dream.”

She shook her head, annoyed in spite of herself. “The circumstances of your birth make you no less than anyone else.”

His laugh was bitter. “Perhaps not, but the people would not be as inclined to agree. You know that just as well as I. After all, it is why Fabian has been accepted so naturally that even his marriage to the so-called usurper queen has had few repercussions. But I will not push our luck for my own selfishness.”

“I don’t—”

A quiet chuckle, this time tinged with a hint of genuine affection. “We both know that you would never betray your vow, especially considering the instability it could bring to Cordonia should anyone find out, but my mere presence at your side may threaten it nonetheless. We have not precisely been subtle, and even so, I would not have your rule tainted by association with a sorcerer accused of regicide. Pardoned or not, I am a source of division that I would not risk. Not against all you have sacrificed.”

Her laugh sounded weak, even to her own ears. “Kayden Vescovi, selfless to the last.”

He shook his head. “I do not know whether it is selflessness or selfishness, not wanting to let all of our other sacrifices to be in vain.”

“I assure you, nobody who truly knows you could ever accuse you of selfishness. And I have no doubt Hunter would agree with me.”

“Biased opinions, the both of you.”

She drew herself up to full height, though she was still what was no doubt comically short compared to him. “You dare accuse the queen and one of her most trusted advisors, the former King-Regent, of bias?”

That drew a true laugh from him. “As a loyal Cordonian to his crown, I would not dare, but as your… friend, I would do what I can, for you and for Cordonia, just as you have done these many months. If that means accusing you of that which is true, then so be it.”

She chuckled, though it faded as quickly as it came, and he cleared his throat, his face studiously blank.

“But… But as your friend, I must ask that you, not the queen but you, Caterina, hear me out and understand my decision.”

She nodded, taking advantage of the time to school her face into a mask of neutrality. “And what of you?”

In spite of her best attempts, her voice wavered and, for a heartbeat, something flashed across his face, gone so quickly that she almost wondered if she had imagined it. “What are my plans?” He sighed, though something resembling a faint smile curved his mouth. “My utmost priority is picking my replacement. In the mere month you have been queen and even before then, you have already had multiple attempts on your life, and I…” Any sign of merriment in his expression dropping, he swallowed, his throat visibly bobbing with the movement. “I would not leave you without first ensuring your safety. I will personally see to that, I swear it.”

“Kayden…”

His hand seemed to twitch at his side as he drew a breath, forcing another smile. “As the former Crown Guard, it is the least I could do for Cordonia, after all.”

She bowed her head, pretending she didn’t see the way he shifted, clasping his hands together behind his back. “Very well. I… We appreciate your thoughtfulness. But afterwards?”

An unusual look of uncertainty crossed his face. “I… I had hoped to find my mother, actually. I never found out what happened to her, only that she left the estate after my birth. Not that I blame her, considering how my father feels about my presence, but…” He shrugged. “Clearly, I did not come by my powers through House Vescovi, but perhaps I can find more answers from her.”

“That makes sense. No doubt there are many questions that only she might have the knowledge to answer. I understand completely. But…”

Dark eyes flashed up to meet hers, warm and familiar, and she barely resisted the urge to reach for him. “But, will you return, someday?”

For what seemed like a lifetime, he said nothing, his eyes serious, and she held her breath until he sighed, long and sibilant. “I do not know. But if my Queen commands it, then… yes. Someday.”

“She does.” She drew a deep breath, straightening and giving him her most proper smile. “Well, in that case, I look forward to meeting your replacement, and I wish you all of the best in your investigation. We shall, all of us, look forward to your return.”

“As do I.” She inclined her head in dismissal as he bowed again, deep and formal, though before he turned away, he met her gaze once more. “And Caterina? Thank you.”

In the silence, she watched him retreat, steps quick and assured through the halls that he knew much better than she did, even after a month of living within the castle, before letting out a shaky breath she did not know she had been holding. “No, Kayden. Thank you.”

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“You care for him. The Crown Shield, I mean.”

In the privacy of their chambers, away from prying ears, she turned to King Fabian. Her new husband stood in the doorway, bright blue eyes steady as he watched her, clear and sympathetic and utterly lacking in disapproval.

“How…?”

He laughed, stepping nearer. “It is not exactly a difficult conclusion to draw. I rather suspected it from the moment he accompanied you to find me. Of course, it is not until more recently that I might call it confirmed.” When she gave him a questioning look, he grinned, cheerful and boyish. “Now, I mean. He seems a good man—must be, since you and Lord Hunter have such faith in him—and from all I’ve heard, he is an excellent Crown Shield.”

“Was.” It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, and she smiled, carefully holding her hands still before she could fidget. “He has decided to pass his position on to another.”

“Oh? Is there any particular reason for it? If he is afraid of incurring my wrath, tell him that I harbor no ill-will towards him with regards to your relationship. Or perhaps I can tell him myself, if that would be more reassuring.”

She shook her head. “It is not that. I have no intentions of betraying the oath we made to each other and Cordonia, regardless. I fear that my pursuing anything would risk instability to the kingdom. Particularly with my reputation as it already is.”

“And his being previously accused of the murder of Queen Kendra certainly cannot help matters.”

“Precisely. I am afraid it is only your sterling reputation that has kept the kingdom in check, and will have to continue to do so.” When he laughed, she grinned, her heart lightening, ever so slightly. “At any rate, our former Crown Shield has elected to retire and pursue his own interests.”

“I am truly sorry that you two have been put into this situation.”

“But you certainly chose this direction for yourself and would have done so again were an entire kingdom’s peace not on the line?” She laughed, shaking her head. “No, we all did what we had to do. You have brought the peace that Cordonia needed, and I shall do my utmost to maintain it, just as Kayden will. Besides, there are worse fates than being married to a friend. At least among the nobility, marriage is often more a tool for political gain than a joining of like minds and hearts.”

When she glanced up, it was to find Fabian making a face, though to his credit, it was more mild than she rather suspected he felt, and she couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was lesson number two. Lesson number three is that there are always eyes on you. I do not think members of the court would take kindly to being looked at as though you ate a particularly sour apple.” She paused, letting a look of contemplation cross her face, though it did nothing to quell her amusement. “Or perhaps contemplating Cyrus’ endless requests for visitations?”

When his expression turned even more horrified, her laughter morphed into a most unladylike cackle, though judging by his own amused expression, he hardly seemed to mind, crossed arms notwithstanding.

“Dare I ask what lesson number one was, then?”

“Oh, I thought I already told you. Whenever you are facing any nerves, simply imagine the entire court in their smallclothes.”

That time, it was not she who doubled over in laughter, fairly leaning on the bed to maintain any semblance of remaining upright. She grinned, sitting beside him and watching as the tension left his shoulders for what was likely the first time since he had awoken that morning.

After a moment, he finally sobered, though he was still chortling as he turned back to face her. “I should hope that the other nobles are not aware of your… irreverence.”

“I expect I would be run out of the country should they find out. Or, I suppose, in some cases, never hear the end of it.”

“Perhaps, but I assure you that it is something the people might like to know. In fact, had they known, they might have been less likely to march against you.”

“Well, I shall keep that in mind in case I manage to incur the ire of our kingdom once more, then. I doubt there will be a second chance to maintain the people’s trust in me through a political match.”

He chuckled but his eyes were serious. “Perhaps not but they would also be fools to mistrust you without cause in light of all you have sacrificed for them.”

“And you. You did not ask for the crown. You were an artist, open and spirited, free to pursue your own wishes, to love whomever. And now you have allied yourself to me, stepping into the role placed upon you by a bloodline you knew nothing about until you took a stranger at her word.”

“I took the Queen at her word, a far safer leap of trust.”

She waved her hand airily. “Details, my king. But, to speak plainly, you have wed yourself to me, sacrificing any choice you may have had in the matter, and while you are free to have whatever relations you wish, the fact remains that it can only ever be in private. I have no doubt that this is not what you had anticipated for yourself and I apologize for that.”

“There is no need. I made the offer of marriage knowing what it would entail, and like you, I have no intention of doing anything which might threaten what we have given for it. Besides, it is as you say. I would either have to marry you or someone else for political gain. At least this way I can be sure of having an ally and friend.”

She smiled. “Partners, then.”

He took her outstretched hand, managing to keep a solemn expression just long enough to give it a solid shake before a wry grin curled his mouth. “I don’t know if a week ago, I would ever have dreamed of making a vow between a husband and wife like such.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Would you prefer we seal it with a kiss, then?”

When he laughed again, shaking his head, she grinned, throwing herself back against the bed with a sigh. Oh, he was not wrong in that she still cared for Kayden fiercely and the thought of building a life without him, after so many daydreams of what they would do together, stung, but she did what she had to do.

And if Cordonia could have peace, if her life with Fabian could have the friendship and laughter of the moment, then perhaps it would be worth it in the end.

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

When the people of Cordonia speak of King Fabian, it is with reverence and respect. Raised among commoners, having studied and pursued art as a career, unaware of his heritage until his kingdom was in peril, the People’s King delivered harmony to a land torn by strife and conflict since the death of Queen Kendra, brought about peace and prosperity, social changes and moves towards equality that ushered Cordonia into a new age. While scholars debate the details, it is held by many Cordonians that his rule still holds the record as the one plagued by the fewest number of internal conflicts and infighting, that the mourning bells tolled for a full week following his eventual death, and that the respect the Cordonian crown still holds amongst her people is in no small part due to his enduring legacy.

Fewer scholars and citizens alike mention his wife and queen, and fewer still discuss her role in Cordonian history beyond the scandal that suffused her early reputation. Following her scant month as sole queen, won through the vote at one of the most chaotic summits in recorded history and plagued by the threat of civil war throughout, Queen Caterina, once of House Aster, faded into the background soon after becoming co-ruler with her husband. Even the most vicious of rumors surrounding her dissipated in time, and as her husband’s reign continued, her role became that of a supporter, speaking on his behalf and caring for their children, turning from usurper queen to the non-threatening positions of dutiful wife and doting mother.

Those who have devoted true effort towards understanding her, however… The stories they tell are far different. While King Fabian carried out the decisions that brought support and benefits to the common people, he was not alone in their inception or planning. It was she who helped bring about peace with neighboring countries, whose quiet manners but strong will granted her husband the stability and courage to move forward with his goals. It was she who fielded questions and attention those days he needed to step back, to paint or wander the country, who kept his gentleness and spirit alive. It was she who raised their children to believe in stability and equality and above else, peace.

Those who know speak of Queen Caterina as a woman of principle and courage, of patience and understanding. A selfless hero who gave and sacrificed whatever was required, for her king and her country.

[kazliin]

Are you still taking suggestions for the arrange marriage au? If so ... what about the first time Yuuri thought that Victor loved him... and the completely refusing that thought because Yuuri is no Yuuri without anxiety

Previous ficlet

[Arranged Marriage AU tag]

Yuuri sat in the drawing room, fingers twisting nervously inhis lap as he waited for the arrival of his soon-to be fiancé.

It had all been so sudden and the reality of the situationwas still yet to hit him. Not yet a fortnight ago had his parents come to him,explaining the dire situation of their family finances their need for him tomarry. Yuuri had agreed without hesitation. The Katsuki family mingled with thehighest branches of society but, after the tragedy that had taken most of theirland with it, Yuuri had seen the strain in his father’s eyes and the worriedlook on his mother’s face as they pored over their financial ledgers. A goodname was not enough to feed or clothe a family, no matter how much any of themwished it otherwise.

So it had fallen to Yuuri to find a good match, a person ofwealth and means. As the second child, he had always known that marrying forgain was a possibility. He had no estate to inherit after all. That waspromised to Mari, the first born, and he didn’t begrudge her for it. Butsecretly, he had always hoped that he would marry for love.

It was a dream he was willing to let go of however, if itmeant providing for his family. And so he had agreed to whatever match theythought suitable and tried not to think too hard about what types might presentthemselves as his potential future partner.

Never in a hundred lifetimes would he have believed however,that the Nikiforov family would offer their son. When Yuuri’s mother had toldhim the news, just days after they had begun to search for potential suitors,Yuuri had scarce been able to believe it.

Yuuri’s parents had agreed instantly to the offer, knowingthat the Nikiforov’s son was by far the best match that Yuuri could possiblyhope to make. The Nikiforovs might be relatively new money, and occasionallyscorned by the highest end of society because of it, but their wealth faroutstripped even many nobility. With their trade in business, banking andforeign goods, they had significant influence in every aspect of society. Anywould be lucky to match with a member of the family, and all the wealth thatcame with it.

More than that however, it was not merely wealth that madethe prospect of marrying one of the Nikiforov line so tempting for many. TheNikiforov’s only child, Viktor, was beloved by all. Beautiful and charming, hehad captured many hearts when he had first made his debut in society and hadcontinued to break them ever since with his continued refusal of any and allproposals of marriage. He was easily considered the most eligible bachelor intown and his dance card was never empty at the lavish balls hosted at hisfamily home.

And now he was going to marry Yuuri.

It still seemed incomprehensible to Yuuri, why the Nikiforovshad chosen him. Mari had assured him that it made perfect sense. His own familyname was one of nobility, and of much higher rank than the Nikiforov’s own.Marrying into the Katsuki line would allow Viktor, and by extension his family,into aspects of higher society that could only be accessed by blood status ormarriage.

Yuuri wasn’t so sure. Viktor was young and beautiful and hadthe pick of any unmarried person in the city, and probably several married onesas well. In fact, from the way he had observed Viktor’s charm from afar, hewouldn’t be surprised if Viktor was able to ensnare a prince if he truly sethis mind to it. And yet still, he had agreed to settle for Yuuri.

It was likely due to pressure from his parents, Yuuri knewthat logically. It was unlikely that he was the type of partner that Viktor wouldselect of his own free will. And yet, even that knowledge didn’t quell theflutter in Yuuri’s chest at the thought of his future husband.

He had admired Viktor from afar for years, through ballsand galas and every event that he was forced to attend by nature of his birth.Viktor had a way of capturing every eye in the room, Yuuri’s along with it, andsince he had first seen Viktor during his own societal debut, Yuuri had neverlooked away.

Yuuri was startled out of his musings by the sound of asharp knocking echoing through the house. The noise of the front door creakingopen reached his ears and he tensed, knowing exactly who the callers must be.

After a few seconds, the sound of Yuuri’s parents meetingtheir new guests floated through the house. Yuuri felt himself tensing furtheras the voices began to grow nearer, the sound of the guests approaching growinglouder and louder in his ears. Finally, the door of the drawing room creakedopen and he leapt to his feet as his mother bustled through, fixing his handsbehind his back so as not to show just how much they were shaking.

Behind Yuuri’s mother came the Nikiforovs, each of themlooking easily glamourous while sporting the latest fashions as they glidedinto the room. Yuuri allowed his eyes to linger on Viktor for a moment, just asstunning as Yuuri remembered, before Viktor’s eye caught his own and Yuuriglanced away again. Yuuri’s father followed the guests into the room, usheringthem to their seats.

Yuuri dropped into a bow, allowing his etiquette training totake over.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he directed at Viktor and hisparents, hoping his moment of hesitation when they had stepped through the doorhadn’t been noticed.

The Nikiforovs returned the greeting, their tones respectfulas they addressed both Yuuri and his parents. Both of Viktor’s parents took upthe offered seats but Viktor stepped forward, coming to stand directly in frontof Yuuri.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he told Yuuri, voice low. Therewas the hint of a smile on Viktor’s face as he took Yuuri’s palm in his own,bending down to brush his lips lightly across the back of Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri felt his breath hitch as Viktor’s lips caressed hisskin, the touch feeling strangely intimate. There was nothing strictly improperwith Viktor’s actions, but it had still been rather forward and his lipsdefinitely lingered on Yuuri’s hand far longer than was needed.

After a few long seconds, Viktor let go, retreating to sitnext to his family.

After that, the majority of the discussions were between Viktor’sparents and Yuuri’s own. Although it was he and Viktor that were to be married,it was their families that would be joined and, as such, it was only proper thatthe heads of those families were the ones to make most of the arrangements.

Yuuri only spoke when spoken to, answering Viktor’s parents’questions honestly and hoping that they wouldn’t come to regret offering their sonto him. Viktor did the same to Yuuri’s own parents, his answers intelligent andcharming and Yuuri could see that his parents were instantly won over.

Neither he nor Viktor had a chance to speak alone however.Nor would they, etiquette dictating that they must always be chaperoned untilthey were married. It made another surge of nerves surge through Yuuri’s gut. Hehad admired Viktor for years but there would be so little time to actually getto know his husband to be until there were bound together for life.

At least he could reassure himself that Viktor was a goodmatch, far better than he had been expecting. Not only would his considerable wealthbe able to provide for Yuuri’s family but everything Yuuri had seen of Viktorpointed towards him being a good person. Even if Viktor had been coerced intomarrying him and their match would never be one of love, no matter what Yuuri’sheart secretly wished for, they could at least have a civil and mutually beneficialrelationship.

When Yuuri and Viktor’s parents finally finished conversing,both parties satisfied with the terms of the marriage contract to be drawn up, theNikiforovs stood. Viktor made his way over to Yuuri again, taking Yuuri’s handin his own again.

“I am honoured that you have agreed to accept my hand,”Viktor told him, voice perfectly sincere. “And I truly look forward to gettingto know you further, Lord Katsuki.”

“You may call me Yuuri,” Yuuri blurted out without thinking.It seemed so out of place for his future spouse to refer to him in such formalterms. At his words, Viktor’s face broke out in a smile.

“Yuuri then,” he smiled, before pressing a light kiss offarewell to the back of Yuuri’s hand and turning to follow his parents out ofthe room. Yuuri’s father escorted them to the door but his mother remained inthe drawing room with Yuuri, beaming at him.

“We couldn’t have hoped for a better match for you,” she said,practically bouncing as she spoke. “The young Mr Nikiforov seems utterlysmitten with you. His eyes barely left you all afternoon.”

“Mother!” Yuuri exclaimed, feeling slightly scandalised. “I’msure that is not true.”

Yuuri’s mother just continued to smile at him, face tingedpink with pleasure. Yuuri looked away, embarrassed.

It was true that Viktor had seemed pleased with him whenthey had spoken. But that was likely due to the swiftness with which thecontract had been agreed and the benefits he would gain from the marriage.

After all, what could possibly possess a man like ViktorNikiforov to be smitten with him?

[dangmanronpaimagines]

Hoshi, fuyuhiko, teruteru, mondo and gundam proposing to their s/o !

This was cute, cute, cute!!! Wow, I should make an otome game with theamount of cheese I’m able to stuff into the crust that is my lovely writing.HAHAHA!!

please enjoy

Ryoma Hoshi

He knows that he loves you, but he’s not quite sure if youknow that yet. While he’s confident in his feelings, he’s not the best atshowing them. That’s not because he’s completely socially inept either, it’sjust that when it comes down to the moments where he has the perfectopportunity to let you see the truth, he backs away a lot. Deep down, evenafter years of being by your side, he’s afraid that something bad will happen,something that he can’t fix. He doesn’t want a repeat of his failed love lifebefore. He wants you to die of old age, having had a happy life.

It takes a longtime for him to come to terms with the fact that he truly does want to spendthe rest of his life with you, his S/O. Even longer still to be convinced thatmarrying you isn’t such a bad idea. Longer then to understand that you truly dolove him as much as he does you. When he finally makes the decision and buysthe ring, he’s surprised that you hadn’t popped the question yet instead. Wereyou really that adamant for him to do it, or were you trying to make sure thathe was ready first?

He doesn’t give much thought on the type of ring to get you.During his time spent with you, he would understand if you liked flashy orsubtle jewelry, gold or silver, etc. and would get a ring that he thought wouldbest match your preferences. When it comes to proposing, though… He tries to come up with something special,but ends up just taking you on a lovely dinner date where you both wearsomething nice. Not being one to make a fuss out of occurrences, he asks you tostop reaching for the breadsticks for a second and to just listen to him. Despitethere being a piece of bread still comically placed inside your mouth, he startsto speak.

“Hey… I know that I’m not the best man on this planet, but…If there’s one thing I know, is that I must be a lucky one. I found someonelike you to give me something in life and that’s a hell of a lot more than Iever expected or wanted. Will you take this ring? I’d like to be your husband.That is… if you’ll have me.”

FuyuhikoKuzuryu

He’s known for a while that he’s wanted to stand with you, faceyou, read his vows, pledge his love to you in front of friends and family andthen seal the deal with a kiss. It’s a thought that makes him blush down to hisneck and up to his ears, but he knowshe wants it, and he really hopes thatyou do too, because he knows he did not spend hours in front of a mirrorpracticing how to save ‘I love you’ for the first time for you to tell him noto his proposal years later. You said you loved him too, dammit! You can’t takethat back!

He’s deep in thought on the ride home from the jeweler, afterbuying you your ring. He’s planning on making his proposal be one of thebiggest things that he’s ever done for you, but on the other hand he just wantsto get it over with and ask you to be his forever. When he pockets the box andenters his house, he’s still deep in thought when you pop out of nowhere,greeting your adorable boyfriend by slinging an arm around him and kissing hischeek. When he can’t help himself from smiling immediately and putting an armaround you too, he thinks ‘fuck it’ and asks you to go to the backyard patioand wait for him. You do so happily, wanting to spend time with him after along day of being apart due to life’s other responsibilities.

As you leave, he grabs a couple glasses and a bottle of winefrom the kitchen and then joins you under the night sky. For a long while, thetwo of you just enjoy each other’s company as you usually do. You talk abouteach other’s day, joke around, and just chat as you drink. It calms Fuyuhiko’snerves quite a bit, and in a sudden moment (for you at least, he’s beenreciting his lines in his head since you’ve been out there) he puts the box inyour hands. When you open it and then look at him with wide eyes and an openmouth, he’s got a grin on his face.

“Hey, don’t say anything yet. You know that I love you, and Iknow that you love me. If that weren’t the case then either I’m dense as fuckor you’re just a really good actress. I want to spend the rest of my life withyou, and if I didn’t think you would ever want to do that with me, you wouldn’tbe living with me and you wouldn’t greet me as soon as I walk through the door.We act like a married couple already, but I want to say our vows and make itofficial. Will you marry me?”

Teruteru Hanamura

This boy takes the thought of proposal seriously. When itcomes to the point where he’s thinking of spending the rest of his life withyou, he flips off the switch!! He’s done!! Eyes for you only!! …Okay, he’lllook and still joke around, but reallyit’s you that’s the love of his life!He wouldn’t even dare to think of actually betraying your trust! When hefinally realizes he wants to marry you, his game of finding the one is done. Hewon. Well, you have to say yes, first, but… that’s it!

So, he’s going to make the proposal romantic; you’re going toremember the moment for the rest of your life and when the light finally drainsfrom his eyes as he holds your wrinkled hand in his own, he wants there to havenever been a moment where you regretted saying yes to him. When you finallypass on, he wants the ring he gives you to be passed down from generation togeneration, inspiring his descendants long past his lifetime. Maybe one daythey’ll even inherit his passion for cooking just like him and become an evenmore famous chef than he…?

As expected, he cooks a lavish dinner for the two of you.While he does this all the time, the only thing that tips you off that it’s aspecial occasion is that the lights are dimmed, there’s candlelight’s on thetable, the fancy plates are out, and after he served the food, he disappearedand game back with a suit on. You make a joke, saying that you were completelyunderdressed in just a shirt and jeans, and he waved his hand at your statementdismissively saying that it wouldn’t matter later (his voice cracked a bit whenhe said that, despite the confidence he was still trying to exude). After youhad finished your meal and began to talk again, Teruteru got up from his sideof the table and came up to you, getting down on one knee with sweat drippingdown the side of his face.

“I-I… Love you more than anything, S/O!! I want you to be thefirst to taste any new dishes I make! I want you to be there with me when I’mold! I w-want-“ Through his speech, he actually ends up bursting into tears, whichmakes you console him. He might constantly act confident and laid-back, but theemotion of the moment causes him to stutter through his speech. Eventually, heasks you to marry him and when you say yes, his tears seemed to have vanishedand he’s back to his joking, friendly, perverted, self. But he does seem to beradiating happiness for the rest of the week.

Mondo Owada

He’s the one that is least prepared to propose, as he does itat the spur of the moment and without a ring to give to you! After a long dayapart, he ended up taking you on a date to the cliffside, letting you hop on theback of his motorcycle as you both reached your destination. Sitting on top ofthe rocks, you both just looked at the stars and enjoyed each other’s silencelike you’ve done many times before. When he turns his head to look at you, yourgaze is set not to the sky, but at him and after the shock of having him catchyou red-handed, you laugh awkwardly with a blush crossing your entire face.

“We’ve been together for years and you’re still acting likeyou’re some high school girl?” You gasp dramatically. “Me? Mondo, you’re thehigh school girl!!” “No, I’m not!” “Just the other day you got all stutter-ywhen I gave you a kiss as I passed you in the hallway to go to the bathroom!Don’t deny that you’re super cute!!” That conversation, while it may havesounded like arguing, was just light-hearted banter between two people that hadbeen married for yea-

Mondo paused. You guys hadbeen together for a while, but you weren’t married. It seemed like itsometimes, and in many cases, you practically already were. You lived together,ate together, slept together, cooked and cleaned together… He ends up sighingand rubbing the back of his head, suddenly serious. In his silence, you alsoclose your mouth and stare at him in concern. Did you say something that offendedhim? Was he upset with you? Did something bad happen earlier and he was waitingto tell you about it? In worry, you place your hand on his arm, but he ends up placinghis other hand on top of yours. He looks at you straight in the eyes and onlyutters a few words.

“Marry me.” Depending on how long you stay silent after thatin surprise, he may end up freaking out a bit. To your defense, he did say itout of the blue!

Gundham Tanaka

He’s had the box hidden away in his pocket for a few months,unsure of what the perfect time would be to ask you. Every time he even begins to think about how to present itto you, he ends up pulling up his scarf out of reflex and the tips of his ears turnred in embarrassment. He’s used to it now; the affection, the fact that there’ssomeone that loves him romantically, the close proximity he’s shared with you…It’s the honest moments, the times where he is forced to show his heart truthfullyis what still makes him hesitant. He would do it for you, though. He knows atthis point that you would not ridicule him for his honesty nor be afraid tospend the rest of your life with him.

He ends up taking you to the local fair one day, one that wasonly in town for a few weeks. While he wasn’t the biggest fan of the hugecrowds, he knew that you wanted to go and enjoy the parks many entertainments.You both ended up enjoying the food, the sights and sounds, and even the rides(although it could be said that you enjoyed them far more than he did). All inall, it was a fun day! You had thought so, at least, but seeing the frustratedlook on Gundham as he walked by your side made you think that he wished he hadn’thave ever gone. You tried waving a hand in front of his face as you walked andtapping his shoulder to get his attention, but you were only rewarded with a quickglance when you called his name. You both stop walking when he turns to you.

With the bright, twinkling lights in the backdrop and themany people passing you both on their way to go home, Gundham strongly gripsyour shoulders and pulles you closer. With his eyes closed and his head hangingdown, he speaks in a voice that’s very close to a whisper.

“I cannot help, but… admire your… I can’t… The sight of yourvisage in my mind- Sets my heart at e-ease… Please, S/O… Will you marry me?”You think his uncharacteristic stuttering is pretty cute and when you reach outyour left hand with a smile, you laugh as he fumbles through his pockets tofind the ring.

[goodluckdetective]

either grimmons 14 or 16. or both, idc

Hargrove as Simmons Dad AU!

You can find other entires to this verse here X

Warnings: Past emotional child abuse, fucked up family dynamics, implied past homophobia. 

ENOUGH

Simmons’ brothers visit Chorus two months after Charon sent everything crashing down.

Simmons told them they didn’t have to, when they floated the idea in his direction. Chorus was far away, and they had busy lives back on Earth. But they’d insisted, buying the tickets for the fastest shuttle they could afford.

Simmons was glad they were only able to get a flight until two months after everything went down. If they’d come here right after, they would be forced to take in the bandages wrapped around Simmons limbs, the broken arm, the pale pallor to his skin that screamed that he’d been through hell. Visible evidence of what his father had put him through. All for some money and some alien tech.

When they arrive, Grif insists on coming with. Simmons doesn’t bother to try to argue with him, he’s not sure he has energy for it after all the UNSC interviews about Hargrove and his relationship to the man. Grif agrees to stay in the Warthog instead of waiting in the shuttle bay with Simmons, just so Simmons can see them on his own terms first.

“You did the same with Kai,” Grif says. “Might as well return the favor.”

Simmons had done the same with Kai, but both men know that these situations are nothing alike. Kai had been a happy reunion, one with hugs and blubbering. Simmons’ brothers? The only thing Simmons has guaranteed is that their father’s shadow will hang over the entire conversation.  

Honestly, he’s glad Grif drove him here, Simmons thinks as he waits in the shuttle bay. If things went to shit, Grif would drive him away without his brothers, no questions asked.

His palms sweat as the shuttle lands, and he tries very hard not to twitch too much. The shuttle today is mostly relief groups, folks sent from Earth to help with rebuilding, and Simmons is sure he’s one of the few people waiting for a family member rather than an employee. The relief crew exits first, already in full gear and Simmons watches as they meet up with a soldier to take them to the nearest settlement. A few of them salute Simmons as they walk by, awe in their eyes.

His brothers are the last two off. Simmons only recognizes them from their com talks: they are almost unrecognizable to the teenagers he once knew. They even look different from when he saw them through a screen three years ago, talking about an award he’d won by a man who pretended not to recognize him. James has a beard now, though he’s trimmed it since they last talked, and Simmons can’t help but be awed at how tall he is as he walked through the exit door. Back when they were kids, James was a lanky thing, the shortest of them all despite being the middle child. Now he had more meat to his bones, his once perfectly trimmed haircut a little messy. The freckles that cover his face are one of the few things Simmon’s recognizes.

Alexander is next out. He’s built like Caboose now, not a surprise since he plays professional hockey, but still off-putting. His face has lost any of the baby fat it once had, and Simmons is surprised to find him wearing glasses. He doesn’t have a beard, but his red hair hangs past his ears, long enough to put in a short ponytail.

When they see him, they freeze. They look tired, Simmons thinks, dark circles under both of their eyes. And afraid. Like they’re kids again and frightened of what will happen when they start failing their father’s expectations. Frightened of what happened to Simmons repeating itself.

God, their childhoods were so fucked, Simmons thinks. He pushes the thought away. He’ll have more than enough time to dwell on it later. Instead he falls back into a role he knows, one he hasn’t played in years. The role of the big brother, desperate for their father’s approval but not desperate enough to force his father’s expectations on his brothers in turn.

“Hey guys,” he says with a wave. Alexander flinches and Simmons remembers he hasn’t seen his robot arm over the coms yet. He sighs. “Please tell me you’re not going to stand there staring for the next hour cus we got-”

He doesn’t finish. Alexander has dropped his bag and wrapped him into an uncomfortably tight hug. Which is just unusual, because when they were kids, Simmons can remember the times they hugged on one hand. Like when he left for the army, disinherited and determined to make something of himself.

“Dick.” Alexander says and for a big guy his voice sounds watery. Simmons reaches up to pat his back. He was always a crier when he thought Dad wasn’t looking. Simmons remembers the tears he got all over his basic uniform when he left.

“Hey Alex” he looks over Alexander’s shoulder and looks to James, mouthing “help me.” A smile breaks across James’ face, and Simmons doesn’t miss how red his eyes are. When Alexander lets go of him, James is quick to take his place, his hug more gentle but no less firm.

“You look so different!” Alexander says when they’re done with their respective blubbering. His winces as soon as he says it. “I mean, not cus of the robot-”

Simmons waves his concern off. “It’s cool. I didn’t leave with metal plating after all.” Alexander looks even more upset. Simmons taps at his robotic eye. “It isn’t a total loss. Got perfect vision in this eye now. Save half on all my eye doctor bills.”

“Have you even seen an eye doctor recently?” James says. He’s less a visible mess than Alexander; James had always been better in a crisis. He’s probably holding it together for Alexander. Like Simmons used to hold it together for the both of them.

“Depends on your definition of an eye doctor. Does a mad scientist count?”

“As long as it’s covered by insurance.”

That gets all of them laughing. They head out of the loading bay, making small talk. James talks about his three kids and Simmons is sure he’ll be bombarded with photos when they get to his place. Alexander, on the other hand, tries to convince him to adopt a dog for half the walk. Simmons doesn’t mind; he’s happy to avoid the elephant in the room.

Grif doesn’t bother getting out of the warthog when they arrive, and Simmons chastises him for it. They get into their usual banter for a bit, trading barbs and it takes Simmons a full minute to remember they have company. He looks over at his brothers. They look like they're trying not to stare at Grif’s mismatched skin that speaks of a surgery from a lifetime ago. Simmons wonders if they notice the patches of pale skin match Simmons own.

They don’t really know who Grif is, Simmons realizes, besides the fact that Simmons talks about him all the time. For a moment, Simmons considers sticking to “squadmate” as a descriptor, just to keep everything uncomplicated. Then he remembers his father, the same man locked up in a prison in one of the UNSC ships that landed a month ago.

Fuck it. He’s done lying for his family’s sake.

“This is my…partner Grif,” Simmons says, waving his hands awkwardly in Grif’s direction. His brothers start, snapping out of their staring. Grif just scoffs.

“Partner? Really Simmons? What are we, a buddy cop comedy?”

“The only other option was boyfriend. Partner seemed to fit better.”

“Partner makes us sound like cowboys. But stuffy and lame. Boyfriend is at least to the point.”

“It makes us sound like we’re in high school!”

“No, stupid pet names would make us sound like we’re in high school.”

“It’s like watching an old married couple.” Grif and Simmons snap out of their bickering to stare at Alexander. Alexander turns a bright red. “Shit, I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”

“He’s your younger brother alright, Simmons,” Grif says, leaning his arm on the dash. “He has awkwardness down. We could probably swap you and him out and Sarge wouldn’t even notice.”

Simmons considers that thought for a moment as James steps forward. He holds his hand out to Grif with no hesitation.

“It’s nice to meet you. Dick has told me a lot about you.”

“About how messy I am, right?”

“No, it was actually pretty flattering.”

Grif shoots him a look. Simmons resists the urge to groan. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

They all get into the car. The drive back home is filled with small talk and for a moment Simmons feels like this is normal. His father isn’t a mass murderer in prison. His brothers weren’t told he was dead for years on end. It’s just a normal family visit.

It’s a nice feeling. He rarely has anything “normal” when it comes to family.

His brothers go inside first. Before Grif follows them, Simmons grabs Grif’s arm.

“Thanks,” he says, under his breath. “For coming.”

Grif is silent. Then he shrugs.

“Wasn’t a big deal.” A smirk crosses his face. “Anyway, it’s nice to hear you had such flattering things to say about me.” He turns to the house. “Hey, James, what flattering things did Simmons say about me? I want details.”

Simmons lingers outside. This won’t last forever. Their father will come up eventually, Alexander and James will eventually go and visit him and Simmons will have to answer their questions upon questions. Their mother will call and claim Hargrove has been framed, that he would never do this, and Simmons will have to listen to that and wonder if it’s worth arguing with her instead of hanging up. He will have to put up with horrified looks as pieces fall into place.

But that’s later. For now it’s just his two brothers and Grif. Grif, who no matter where this goes, is going to be around to remind him how bullshit the entire situation is.

It’s enough. 

[supaliaxpress]

Episodes 15 & 16 Goblin Review: The person left behind must go on living life

Ahh... the ending of Goblin has me feeling “bittersweet” as I have mixed emotions coming from my “reviewer side” and “fangirl side.” For this review, it’s a combination of both episodes 15 and 16. 

In episode 15, the main purpose was to reveal how Eun-Tak remembered Shin and Sunny’s resolution. Eun-Tak went to Canada to find her lost memories, while at the same time she regained her powers to see ghosts; this is mostly due to summoning Shin (I think her powers in a way “reset”). In Canada, Eun-Tak learned more about the mysteries of her past: she met the designer of her necklace, met Shin at the red door they entered together, and walked through the troll pathway of the Maple trees with Shin just as she did 9 years ago. Even though she doesn’t remember, she is drawn to him and slowly begans to fall for him regardless of knowing his true identity. Shin did not tell Eun-Tak the truth that he was Kim Shin and that they know each other because he didn’t want to force her to remember. Eun-Tak’s memories returned after holding a red Maple leaf in front of the fountain where they talked about an eternal sad love 9 years ago. This scene is important because 1) a fountain symbolizes truth and 2) it’s the scene that symbolizes Eun-Tak and Shin’s fated love... an eternal sad love that transcends time (aka. the moral of the story). Notice how the way Eun-Tak’s voice changed as emotions returned to her voice. She summoned him in front of the Christmas shop where they once visited 9 years ago... And Shin immediately embraced her while giving her a passionate kiss filled with longing and love. Notice the emphasis on Shin’s hands... how carefully, but tightly he cupped her face as if he would never leave her again. AND LIFE RETURNED TO ME AS I WAS ABLE TO WITNESS A SEXY KISS BETWEEN THEM... I lost it when Eun-Tak wrapped her legs around Shin... ugh... That kiss was perfect. T.T

This time, GR introduced himself with his real name, “Wang Yeo,” and Sunny pretending to not remember him, while she confirmed for herself that he still remembers her. We learn that Sunny’s memories were never erased because God adhered to her wish, “Water is self-service for even God, in my store. And the same goes for my life. I’ll do what I want with my own life, so I wish he’d just get lost.” With this, God decided to stay out of Sunny’s life even if it meant Sunny suffering in loneliness with her memories while everyone else forgot, “Erasing memories is God’s way of being gracious to people, don’t you think?” Sunny continued to live a successful and independent life until the people from her past appeared before her again... reminding her of the pain of being the only one who remembers. But Sunny’s character has grown to show that she catches onto situations quickly: she adapted to Eun-Tak’s lost memories even if it was painful that she did not remember their past relationship, she couldn’t believe to see her brother appear before her in his Goryeo clothing, and she met her lover once again after leaving him. What’s interesting is how Sunny retained her memories while Eun-Tak lost them... however they both were still equally in pain and suffered as they were separated from the person they loved, but they both remained strong and made someone out of themselves (Sunny’s restaurant was a success and she owned the building, while Eun-Tak achieved her dream job and became successful). After seeing GR, Sunny decided with the resolution to move out of her building, wished Eun-Tak happiness, and even hid her memories from her brother after seeing him happy because she was moving on from her memories. 

The rest of episode showed us the happy reunion of Shin and Eun-Tak, as well as, the reunion of the trio: DH, GR, and Shin. Eun-Tak still couldn’t believe that Shin was in front of him and kept stroking his chin to confirm that he was real, while Shin assured her that it wasn’t a dream. However, the happiness felt too dream-like and we saw how Eun-Tak was still scarred from losing Shin when she woke up and summoned him to make sure that he was really back. This made Shin realize that even though her memories returned, Eun-Tak was still traumatized from losing him; that’s why Shin was the one initiating all the affection towards Eun-Tak. In episode 16, we were hit with a truckload of emotions (pun intended). Eun-Tak was able to reconcile with her ghost friends as well as the issue between her and her aunt; even when her aunt was terrible to her after death, Eun-Tak still thanked her aunt for raising her. GR was able to resolve his past with the maidservant and apologized to her for putting her in a difficult situation 900 years ago by committing suicide. GR and Sunny finally and properly said goodbye to each other while accepting that they could not be happy in this lifetime. Deok-Hwa was slowly growing up and maturing into an adult who will one day take over the company. And Shin and Eun-Tak got married (UGH THEY ARE JUST SO PRECIOUS... AT LEAST WE GOT A WEDDING T.T). However, their happiness was cut short (as well as my soul was crushed) as Eun-Tak sacrificed herself to save the children on the bus. This time Shin was the one who had to watch his loved one leave him behind, but Eun-Tak promised him that she would return and for him to wait for her, while to live his life well and not cause inconveniences to people because of her. (Guys... who else was ugly sobbing? I can’t stop crying from the moment Eun-Tak sacrificed herself until Shin’s sad and deep crying when he fell to the floor). 

Notice how the seasons went by naturally as Shin kept his promise to Eun-Tak to not cause unnatural weather, while wearing her scarf and reminiscing about her. 30 years later, Sunny’s death was GR’s last assignment as the two have a touching reunion, which this time GR leading Sunny the way... not Sunny leading him. Even though Shin was left behind, Shin continued to live well and spread miracles in peoples’ lives (read here for theory on Mr. Kim) until he finally crossed paths with the reincarnated GR and Sunny. We see that in this lifetime, they are finally happily together without anything blocking them (and I kinda think they might remember their past lives too with all the references they made). Notice how GR grabbed & handcuffed Sunny’s right arm and then he was the one who initiated the handshake when it was Sunny who did it previously. And lastly, our lonely goblin was finally shining when he reunited with a reincarnated Eun-Tak. If you didn’t notice, Shin was wearing the watch she had bought for him for their wedding; when a woman gives a man a watch, this symbolizes that 1) they are each other’s time and 2) he will wait for her just as she will wait for him. This time, it was Eun-Tak coming to him and granting his wish (the dandelion symbolizes fulfillment of wishes): her returning to his side. 

So what do I think about this ending? I think this ending was perfect for the series as it symbolizes the title of the drama: The Lonely Shining Goblin. (Though my fangirl side... I’m not satisfied lmao... I want more tbh xD). Everyone had a different story and problem, but it was up to each character to find the answer to their fate. To become a good CEO, DH was growing up from only seeing himself to thinking of others, asking questions, and maturing from a child to an adult. CEO Kim fulfilled his duties to Grandpa and lived a good life. GR and Sunny accepted their punishment, but determined their own happiness in their next life by having a new beginning and by GR being more straight-forwards in their relationship. And Shin and Eun-Tak overcame the boundaries of life and death, their love will transcend time as they continue to find each other (this is because she is human and he is an immortal - therefore their ending will always be sad because they can’t be together forever). Eun-Tak sacrificing herself was the ultimate expression of a pure and selfless love and that’s why her death was not predetermined (a human’s sacrifice is the only thing God can’t predetermine) - she did not hesitate to save others before herself.. just as Shin when he pulled the sword out to kill Park Joong Won. Therefore, that’s why I believe their love was able to defy time because their love is selfless. Their selfless love was the answer to their tragic fate... even though they could not be happy together in this lifetime... they were only selfish once they died as they asked God to let them be together longer next time. And that’s why I think Eun-Tak did not forget Shin because 1) she didn’t drink the tea and 2) God granted her wish to return to Shin just as God granted Shin’s wish to return to Eun-Tak’s side. Their reunion was pure and innocent despite their longing for each other... just as how they first met... because the foundation of their love is a “first love” and “selfless love.” (even though my fangirl side wanted a kiss lmao) I also think there’s a special reason why they reunited at Canada. Canada is known as a land of acceptance and openness... so Shin and Eun-Tak reuniting in Canada represents how they accept and love each other for who they are no matter the time they will meet or the age they will be. She will be his first and last bride. 

But not only does the application of selfless love apply to Shin and Eun-Tak, it also applies to everyone in this drama... GR and Sunny, DH, Samshin, God, and all the souls who were guided by GR. After thinking for awhile, I was trying to understand why they continued to show two more scenes of GR guiding souls to the afterlife... the first one being the reunion of the soldier and his widowed wife (first of all, I fuckin cried... it was so damn touching). Even though he promised his wife he would return, he didn’t because he sacrificed himself during the war while she lived her life till old age instead of committing suicide; because their love was selfless... they were able to meet again. The second one was of the selfish CEO and how he only cared for himself... but he didn’t realize that his selfishness would be the only thing that would follow him into the afterlife as his punishment - not his watch, his money, and his title. So to my next point on selfless love, becoming a grim reaper is a punishment on people who committed suicide. In a way this is a form of selfishness because you ended your own life for yourself and as punishment, you live a nameless life as a grim reaper to make you desire to live again and appreciate life because life is fleeting... just as Eun-Tak said to GR, “you live today as if it will be your last.”

The ending for Goblin is in a sense perfect despite the imperfections that we may find with it because we love this drama so much. In an ideal world, we want a happy and perfect ending, however, in the world of Goblin… it’s cruel that Shin will have to wait for Eun-Tak when she passes away again… and the cruel cycle continues, but that’s the choice they’ve chosen – a sad love to their tragic fate. I think the author has let it up to us to decide how Eun-Tak and Shin’s fate will play with the 2nd, 3rd, and 4th lives that Eun-Tak has remaining because she has laid the foundation of how their first life together happened - like Eun-Tak said, “Humans have four lives: a life of planting seeds, a life of watering the seeds, a life of harvesting and a life of cherishing the harvests.”

And you know, after thinking it throughly… perhaps that was the whole point of the drama.. to plant the seeds for the love story between Eun-Tak and Shin; not all beginnings end happily but what matters the most is how you continue to thrive after you’ve started. Therefore, I do think that it would be possible for Shin to become human during her 4th life so that they can properly cherish each other. For example, Sunny’s life. Sunny had planted the seeds of her love with Wang Yeo during Goryeo, but ended her life early to protect him. Her second life she watered the seeds by surviving on her own with no attachment to her first life. Her third life, she finally was able to harvest after reuniting with her brother and lover with her memories of her first life, but she was finally able to cherish the harvest in her fourth life by having her happy ending with GR/Wang Yeo with a clean slate.

So moral of Goblin: There are many types of love... there is selfish love and selfless love.. though a selfless love is a sad love... it is the only type of love that can last 1,000 or 10,000 years. If you genuinely love someone, you will continue to live a good life till its’ fullest even after that person’s death... And perhaps a miracle might just happen as a god may be listening nearby to grant your wish. 

Thank you Goblin... despite the harsh reality of the world and our fates... thank you for reminding us that we are the makers of our lives... and that’s what makes life beautiful. 

On the other hand... this is really me right now after writing this review as logical as possible:

Other Reviews:

Episode 1-4 Review: Our Homegirl Eun-tak

Episode 5 Review: 10 years into the future, You’re still beautiful and bright as ever, but I’m not the one beside you

Episode 3-6 Review: I can’t help but stare at your smile (Grim Reaper x Sunny Relationship Review)

Episode 6 Review: If you had really been a bad person, he only would’ve created a Goblin, and not the Goblin’s Bride

Episode 7-8 Review: It couldn’t be helped that this was the beginning of this tragic love story (Grim Reaper x Sunny Relationship Review)

Episode 7 Review: Is the thing that I’m trying to steal one more glimpse of… my own immortal life? Or, is it your face?

Episode 8 Review: I beseech the heavens and ask that, on a certain day, after 100 years, on an adequate day… I can finally tell her she was my first love

Episode 9-10 Review: I was thinking about whether or not I should hold your hand one more time (Grim Reaper x Sunny)

Episode 9 Review: I’d like it if I could use that as an excuse to continue on living on… together, with you

Episode 10 Review: Your magic doesn’t work on me.. you can never escape me

Episode 11 Review: So you did come and go for a moment in my life

Episode 12 Review: An absolute fate that is beyond human beings’ eternities

Episode 13 Review: My Life must have been a reward because I met you

Episode 14 Review: Please, someone save me from this curse

Deok Hwa and Grandpa Theory Review: From this moment on, this child will serve you, your Lordship

Important Anon Question regarding Pedophilia

[thesassybooskter]

A DANGEROUS GAME by Heather Graham: Excerpt

AVAILABLE MARCH 13TH 2018/ MIRA BOOKS

TROUBLE ALWAYS FINDS HER…

Wrapping up a normal day at the office, criminal psychologist Kieran Finnegan is accosted by a desperate woman who shoves an infant into her arms and then flees, only to be murdered minutes later on a busy Manhattan street.

Who was the woman? Where did the baby come from? Kieran can’t stop thinking about the child and the victim, so her boyfriend, Craig Frasier, does what any good special agent boyfriend would do—he gets the FBI involved. And asks Kieran to keep out of it.

But the Finnegans have a knack for getting into trouble, and Kieran won’t sit idle when a lead surfaces through her family’s pub. Investigating on her own, she uncovers a dangerous group that plays fast and loose with human lives and will stop at nothing to keep their secrets—and they plan to silence Kieran before she can expose their deadly enterprise.

Pre-order: Amazon | Barnes & Noble | Kobo | iBooks

Add to Goodreads

  Excerpt

Twenty minutes later, they were at Kieran’s apartment, which he had mostly been calling home as well for at least the last year. They still used his place now and then. Some­how—though he couldn’t remember the last time they’d slept apart—they were still maintaining two apartments. They re­ally needed to get rid of one of them. His apartment was larger—they both actually liked it better. But Kieran’s was in the Village, and often more convenient when they’d been out for a night, and they had gotten into the habit of staying there.

More of his things were even at her place, rather than his own.

Not even the sushi bar/karaoke place on the ground floor of Kieran’s apartment building was still going, and the streets surrounding St. Mark’s Place were quiet, as well.

Kieran seemed really tired as they trudged up the stairs past the silent bar and to her apartment level. Of course, she was tired. She’d worked some grim cases with him—little could have been much worse than some of what they’d already seen, endured and survived—but it had to have been traumatic for her, having a baby thrust into her arms.

And seeing the woman who had entrusted that baby to her staggering down the street with a knife in her back…

He intended to give Kieran whatever space she needed; re­specting that might be a need to curl up in bed with her own thoughts, praying for sleep.

He was startled when she turned to him with a grin. “Race you to the shower!” she said, and she was gone.

Racing to the shower.

He’d thought she’d be so exhausted.

Apparently not.

He followed her.

There were, of course, all kinds of ways to deal with strange happenings.

She was already naked, beneath the spray of water. He hesitated at the door, then left his Glock in the bedroom and shed his clothing.

He stepped into the tub. She was instantly in his arms.

Sometimes, people just needed to be held.

And sometimes, they needed more.

Her lips moved over his throat and chest, while her fingers danced down his torso. Her touch…the water…

He was instantly aroused.

They kissed and teased in the water. They lathered one another, intimately.

Then she laughed and moved away, escaping from the shower.

They’d long ago realized that for a man Craig’s size, mak­ing love in the shower wasn’t particularly erotic. It could be awkward, and slippery in the wrong way.

But heading out of the shower could be completely won­derful, catching up with another with clean flesh, sliding into a damp embrace with token pats from towels, and then fall­ing down into the bed, the coolness of the sheets against the heat of their flesh.

Foreplay quickly became something urgent, something needed, something more and more passionate with each brush of their lips, with the intimacy with which they caressed and kissed one another, with which their eyes met, and they came together at last.

Craig loved Kieran; she loved him. There was no ques­tion about that.

It still amazed him how intense their connection could be.

Just as it amazed him that they could live together, sleep together, wake together each morning, and still find it so new and exquisite every time they made love.

He thought that she would want to talk as they both came down after a sweet and wicked climax; she did not.

She curled against him, sighed and seemed to fall asleep almost instantly.

He dozed himself, but woke when she moved. He guessed she hadn’t been sleeping at all.

She crawled as silently as she could out of bed, wrapped herself in a terry robe and headed out to the living room.

He followed, and found her looking out the window on what remained of the night.

She didn’t hear him at first.

He sighed softly. “Kieran?”

She started and turned to him. “Craig, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. It’s Saturday—and you actually have time off. You can sleep as long as you like.”

“I was planning on sleeping past four in the morning,” he assured her. “Come back to bed.”

“I can’t forget that woman, Craig. I just can’t forget her.”

“I know. Come back to bed.”

“Kidnapping. That’d be an FBI matter,” Kieran told Craig.

“We don’t know that it was a kidnapping. Maybe the woman was the baby’s mother—or grandmother. Maybe she just wanted the child to be safe. Kieran—”

“Kidnapping,” Kieran said. “Craig, you know that poor little girl was taken from somewhere.”

“At the moment, the case belongs to the cops. The Bureau might be brought in, but right now, it’s not my call. We work hard to keep our relationships between agencies all nice and copacetic. I’m not running down there and demanding that we take the case. I’d be put in my place in two damned sec­onds,” he told her.

“But it must be kidnapping. You can talk to Egan, at least, okay?”

“I will speak with Egan—when it’s possible to speak with my director, I promise I will.”

“Really?”

“I just told you that I would.”

“What if he fights you on it? What if he’s dismissive?”

“I’ll fight back.”

“Really?”

“I’ll push and be obnoxious and call in all kinds of favors, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. I like it.”

He led her back into the bedroom and she slipped into his arms. Resting against his chest, she fell asleep.

He thought about his promise.

He hadn’t seen the woman, had no connection to the case, and in his life, he’d seen too many murders.

But he would keep his promise, and he was damned deter­mined that they’d get to the bottom of what was going on.

The woman had known Kieran’s name, and she had brought the baby straight to her, and that could mean…someone out there would be wondering just what Kieran knew about the woman, the baby—and the killer.

And that meant that Kieran might well be in danger now herself.

  About Heather Graham

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Heather Graham, majored in theater arts at the University of South Florida. After a stint of several years in dinner theater, back-up vocals, and bartending, she stayed home after the birth of her third child and began to write. Her first book was with Dell, and since then, she has written over two hundred novels and novellas including category, suspense, historical romance, vampire fiction, time travel, occult and Christmas family fare.

She is pleased to have been published in approximately twenty-five languages. She has written over 200 novels and has 60 million books in print. She has been honored with awards from booksellers and writers’ organizations for excellence in her work, and she is also proud to be a recipient of the Silver Bullet from Thriller Writers and was also awarded the prestigious Thriller Master in 2016. She is also a recipient of the Lifetime Achievement Award from RWA. Heather has had books selected for the Doubleday Book Club and the Literary Guild, and has been quoted, interviewed, or featured in such publications as The Nation, Redbook, Mystery Book Club, People and USA Today and appeared on many newscasts including Today, Entertainment Tonight and local television.

Heather loves travel and anything that has to do with the water, and is a certified scuba diver. She also loves ballroom dancing. Each year she hosts the Vampire Ball and Dinner theater at the RT convention raising money for the Pediatric Aids Society and in 2006 she hosted the first Writers for New Orleans Workshop to benefit the stricken Gulf Region. She is also the founder of “The Slush Pile Players,” presenting something that’s “almost like entertainment” for various conferences and benefits. Married since high school graduation and the mother of five, her greatest love in life remains her family, but she also believes her career has been an incredible gift, and she is grateful every day to be doing something that she loves so very much for a living.

​

Website | Twitter | Facebook | Goodreads

  A DANGEROUS GAME by Heather Graham: Excerpt was originally published on The Sassy Bookster

[mockdale]

meet dalia “dale” joshi - biography

BIOGRAPHY:

( anything within the bio can be changed based on what the Sam Joshi applicants write! )

1967. You came into the world laughing. Instead of a newborn baby’s typical wails, you welcomed the bright lights and loud noises of the hospital with a burst of laughter. The giggles that left your tiny little body left everyone in the room smiling, and though you didn’t know it at the time, your laughter left your parents with tears of joy in their eyes. On that rainy November evening, their family doubled in size: Sam and Dalia became the newest members of the Joshi family. Your laughter eventually settled down into a warm smile. Without any hesitation, you accepted life for what it was, bright lights and all. Your parents, Maya and Scott, call you their little ray of sunshine for the next few years. You were always the sun, your brother Sam, the moon.

1979. By the age of twelve, it’s become quite clear the type of person you will grow to be. You spent your childhood twisting your words into little white lies to stay out of trouble. You convinced your parents to let you try anything you could get your hands on: for a while it was soccer, then the violin, ballet lessons, science camp - you name it, you tried it. At the age of twelve, your obsession was with the guitar. You wanted to start a garage band with your brother after watching some of the neighbor kids perform. You were never very good at the guitar, but words were always your friend, and lyrics came easily. You keep a notebook hidden in your second desk drawer, pages and pages of lyrics kept secret from your parents’ prying eyes. It’s around this time that you start protecting your brother with your talent for words. He’d get himself into trouble, and no more than two minutes into your parents’ lecture, you’d jump in and save him from whatever punishment was on the table. His ideas inspired you, even when they weren’t necessarily…safe. You’d be a dynamic duo forever: cradle to grave, womb to tomb.

1981. You find your people when you’re fourteen. Sam had always been your best friend, but he was partially there out of familial obligation. You find Jane, Elijah, and Andy when you’re all put in the same English class. After a heated debate about the true symbolism within Pride and Prejudice, the four of you decided to agree to disagree, and instead start a friendship that you thought would last a lifetime. Instead of being a lone wolf, you had a pack. It was something new, and something that filled your heart with kinetic energy. Your talent for stringing together intelligent arguments and creating lies without much struggle came in handy once more: your parents wouldn’t want you sneaking out late at night to watch the stars with three other kids, passing a joint back and forth, planning for the future. That’s not the perfect Dale Joshi picture, after all.

1983. You fall in love for the first time when you’re sixteen. It’s different than you thought it would be. After all, your parents were the perfect example of a loving, heterosexual couple. ( You had a great respect for your mother - you found, after a while, that men were exhausting. ) No, normal was never your style; you fell head over heels for a girl. You’re known around school for being confident, charismatic, independent and strong - but around her, your words jumble up, your ears turn red, and all of your eloquent thoughts escape you. The trouble with being in love? You weren’t sure who you could turn to. Who would judge you for loving someone of the same gender? Would your parents disown you? Would your best friends ditch you? You spent half of that school year avoiding the topic of romance. Sure, your friends asked you why you started wearing more makeup to school ( a dark lipstick color might impress her, you never know ), and they may have noticed you drop all of your cards when you saw her at one of your speech and debate competitions ( you still won, so it didn’t matter ) - but they never forced you to talk about anything you didn’t want to. By the end of the school year, you came out to your brother, your two brothers from other mothers, and the sister you never had. They welcomed you with open arms. Queer. It felt more fitting to you than lesbian. You were queer, and proud. This ended in more fights than not, but you learned quickly how to land a good punch. You were born a fighter, and you wouldn’t quit anytime soon.

1988. There’s nothing quite like feeling on top of the world. Twenty years old, and you felt unstoppable. You were finally moving towards something better - headed to law school in New York City, a full ride scholarship that you had worked your ass off to earn - your life was only getting better from here on out. That is, until you lost Elijah. Elijah went missing, and some part of you cracked. He was practically family to you - and the fact that he went missing out of nowhere didn’t sit well with you at all. Still, your life wasn’t going to wait for you to solve this mystery. You move forward. You move away from Dogpatch. You start working towards improving your life - bringing justice to as many people as possible. You call Andy and Jane every weekend, your parents every other weekend. 1988 was the beginning of your life, as far as you’re convinced.

1995. You never pictured yourself as a “settle down and marry” type of gal, but Allison swept you off your feet one night in the library, and the rest was history. You had a small wedding, but all of the important people were there: Sam, Jane, Andy, your parents, Allison’s family and friends - it was something straight out of a fairy tale. Your law practice was looking up, your career beginning to earn the money that you’d studied so long for. You shared an apartment in New York City, adopted a dog named Milo, and took pictures every Christmas to send out to your relatives. It was a picture perfect life.

1999. Your world came crashing down on you when you lost Sam. It was all so fast - you got a call about a car accident from your sobbing mother, and you found your way to the hospital without a second thought. You sat by his bed, begging him to come out of this coma, blaming yourself for not being there to stop this from happening. What happened to your promise of going from womb to tomb? You couldn’t face this world without your brother. You’d already lost Elijah, you couldn’t lose your actual brother by blood. Unfortunately, fate was not in your favor. The heart monitor stopped, your brother was lost, and you couldn’t stop screaming. 1999 was the year you shut yourself off from everyone close to you. Maybe if I’m not close to anyone, they won’t get hurt. You trade in your closest friends for bottles upon bottles of Jack Daniels, you stop answering phone calls, you lock yourself in your apartment and you do what you do best: you lie. You lie about how you’re doing. You lie and say that yes, you’re getting enough sleep. You lie, but you win your cases. You lie to yourself and say it doesn’t hurt. You lie, because it’s the one thing you can depend upon.

2017. You got the call from Andy Whelan when you were in the middle of a drunken evening of work. It was unexpected, and you couldn’t handle it at first. But you shortly came to the realization that you only had one brother left, and he was on the phone, asking you to come back home. So home you went.

1988, round two. You have one goal: right the wrongs. Keep your brother alive. You’ve been given a second chance, and you fully intend to use it to save Sam from that car accident. If you can’t save him, what’s the point?