#⤷ nobleman.【 ❝ be careful. i’m not the same as before. ❞ 】analysis.

[haveanotherkpopblog]

Defying Gravity

Inspired by @noona-clock‘s “EXO as Royal Princes”

Pairing: Do Kyungsoo x You

Genre: AU

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: None

Masterlist

It was happening. It was actually happening. After so many years of hard work and dedication, it was happening. A knighting ceremony. It wasn’t unusual, a knighting ceremony, but this one was extra special. And for more than one reason.

This was the first time Prince Kyungsoo would be conducting the ceremony. Prince Kyungsoo was a lover of great literature. He’s read all the classics and everything new. He was well educated and was proud of it.

The second reason this knighting ceremony was special was whom it was being held for. The daughter of a lowly nobleman, the sister of four brothers, the youngest of five. So much competition for the limelight. So many things to compete for. A young professor whom had many published, highly acclaimed works. Your father was ecstatic, your brothers less so.

You stood outside the Great Hall, staring at the polished, wooden door. It went really really well with the marble flooring. Dark oak against white marble. You would have gone a faded mahogany, but it’s not your palace. Instead, you focused on the swirls and lines, steadying your breathing. There was nothing to be nervous about, but the butterflies in your stomach didn’t seem to care. You heard footsteps approaching, but you focused on the door, concentrating on your breathing. The footsteps stopped.

“Miss?” a deep voice called. It was pleasant to listen to, like one of those ASMR’s, but you couldn’t worry about some guy with a nice voice. “Miss, are you alright? Do you need something?”

“I’m fine sir, just waiting,” you told him.

“Waiting for what?” the voice inquired. You rolled your eyes. Why was he being so nosy?

“Not your concern,” you informed him. You heard a scoff. “No offense, but unless you’re my family or the royal family, it’s not your concern.” There was a deafening pause.

You almost turned around when he spoke again, “You’re right.” The footsteps retreated and you let out a sigh of relief. You shook all thoughts of him out of your head and focused on the event ahead.

Horns blared, signaling the start of your knighting ceremony. The doors opened and you stepped through. Multiple important people (nobles, doctors, lawyers, and professors) stood on either side of you, lining the walls. The Prince stood at the end of the aisle, hands clasped behind his back.

You approached him slowly, eyes traveling just past his head. Your heels tapped off the marble, echoing through the crowded room. Now you had a legitimate reason to be nervous. The Prince was beyond handsome. It wouldn’t hurt if he smiled. He had nice, plump, heart-shaped lips.

Stop. No. Bad Y/N. He was the freakin’ Prince. You couldn’t be having those types of thoughts about your monarch. They’d have your head. Not literally, but you can’t be making up such thoughts! Pull it together! You stopped before Prince Kyungsoo and knelt. You watched out the corner of your eye as he grabbed his sword. You swallowed thickly, exhaling slowly.

“Lady Y/N L/N.” Wait… oh no. “For your great contributions to our kingdom’s literature and positive influence on our culture.” You knew that voice. “I hereby dub thee, Dame Y/N L/N.”

The blade was cold and heavy against your shoulders as you knelt there completely embarrassed. You rose, turning to face the other nobles. They applauded, unaware of how stupid you were feeling.

The celebration helped take your mind off what had happened before the ceremony. It was an honest mistake. You weren’t paying attention to who was talking. You were trying not to have a panic attack! It’s not like you were trying to get smart with the Prince.

The celebration lifted your spirits. There was a giant feast and dancing. Cooked lamb and sweat filled your nose as you stood against the wall, sipping your wine and watching your brothers attempt to flirt with the ladies of the court. You found it quite pathetic, the way they threw themselves at women. But, not everything was like the books, and unfortunately, your brothers chose not to read. You were listening to a particular conversation when you almost snorted your wine when you heard what your brother said to one of the ladies.

“That’s not very ladylike,” came a familiar voice.

You turned around and there was Prince Kyungsoo, standing behind your looking pleased with himself. You closed your eyes, pulling your mouth into a thin line. Great, you just made yourself look like a complete idiot in front of the prince for a second time. Today was going great.

“Your Royal Highness,” you greeted curtseying. You stood up, licking your lips, trying to find something to say.

“A lost for words I see,” he jested. “I thought authors were never at a lost.” He smiled, a nice smile. His lips really did look like a heart. It was almost supernatural. You brought eyes back to his, trying to make it seem like you weren’t just doing an analysis of his mouth.

“I didn’t realize that was you, with whom I was talking to,” you told him. He smirked, stepping closer to you. Your heartbeat sped up as your hands grew sweaty. Did he really need to be this close? And why was he so cocky? “But you know I didn’t know.” He tilted his head.

“I did,” he affirmed, slowly circling you. “I’m sure if you had known who were talking to, you would have been a bit more polite.”

“What are you doing?” you inquired, turning to keep your eyes on him.

“Assessing you,” he answered. You quirked a brow, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Pardon?”

“Not like that,” he assured you chuckling. “I’m just taking in the woman who supposedly writes great literature. You scoffed, shaking your head. He was a lot different than what you thought a prince was supposed to be.

“Supposedly’? If I remember correctly, and I should considering it happened roughly twenty minutes ago, you knighted me for my works. I believe your exact words were, ‘great contributions’ and ‘positive influence’.”

“Simply a script to follow. It’s standard procedure,” he said nonchalantly. You nodded, taking a step closer to him.

“And is spending weeks reading my books standard procedure?” you inquired, a smirk tugging at the corner of your mouth. He inhaled sharply, his eyes piercing yours.

“No.”

“So one could argue that his Royal Highness is impressed with my works, yes?” This was fun, watching him trying to come up with a response.

“That’s one way to put it,” he said after a while.

“How would you put it?” you inquired. He pursed his lips, taking a step closer until you were centimeters away from each other. He gazed down at you, dropping his voice.

“I’m impressed with the fact your work is considered a great contribution to literature.” You raised your eyebrows. “Nothing personal, I just don’t see how works about bugs can be considered great literature.” You grinned, tilting your head up slightly.

“I see, but let me ask you the same thing.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why would a books about bugs be considered great literature? After all, aren’t you ‘supposedly’ smart? You tell me, your Royal Highness.” You took a couple of steps back, pleased with yourself. He smiled, highly amused.

“Is that a challenge?”

“Perhaps,” you replied. He smirked, sticking out his hand.

“Challenge accepted.”

[panda-noosh]

Pass Me Your Blade {Assassin!Pidge x Assassin!Reader}

 Words: 5065

 Pairing: Assassin!Pidge x Assassin!Reader

  Summary: You had been ordered to kill the nobleman who went by the name of Zarkon. The job should have been an easy one – in and out, no bother. But all of that changes whenever you find out that one of the lead assassins at the Voltrol guild had been sent to do the exact same job as you.

  Warnings: Graphic violence. Graphic scenes of blood.

  Notes: if y'all sleep on Pidge i'm gonna flip a table. Also, I really like how this turned out for some reason. I love writing about assassins, and using all that fancy language from the olden days. I hope you guys like it too :)

  The thrill pulsed through you, just as it always did.

  It was a low thumping in the back of your head, an insistent need to get the job done, to do as you were ordered to do. You were not driven by spite of the person you were sent to kill, though you knew the details behind the persons reasoning for wanting this person dead; they had killed their family, slaughtered them in cold blood and left your customer to rot on his own. He had come up to the guild, shaky hands, looking over his shoulder – a new guy. He clearly had never hired an assassin before.

  This happened all too often. The rich and the higher ranked got off with things that the people of your status would be killed for. Hung in the streets, stoned, burned. You were shown no mercy purely because you weren't as useful to the government as a nobleman was.

  That was what drove your anger; the discrimination, the way you could understand exactly what your customer had gone through. You didn't remember your family. It had been long ago since they had been taken into captivity, forced to work for the higher-up before being slaughtered for not working hard enough. You had been the only one spared.

  You didn't remember it. You often chose not to think about it, losing yourself in the thrill of getting vengence.

  That was exactly what you were doing now. It was a paid job, but the satisfaction of ridding the world of evil was a good enough payment on its own. You would never tell your customers that, though. They would try and lower their prices if they knew you would do it free of charge any day of the week.

  You leaped off of the mast you were previously crouched on, cloak billowing out behind you. With one hand, you gripped the edge of your hood, keeping it pulled on over your head in an attempt to keep your identity at least slightly unknown, though you were certain any guards who happened to look up would recognise you instantly – or at least recognise the silver cloak you wore, the only thing that gave away the identity of the guild you worked for.

  In your other hand you held your knife. It was decorated with the blood of the guards you had taken down in the hallway. You felt guilt for killing them, that not having been your goal, but you had to get the job done, and they were in your way. There was no mercy you could have shown them that would have made your job any easier.

  You rushed across the grand marble floor of the palace you had infiltrated, making your way towards the double doors that would lead you into the nobleman's – Zarkon, you believed his name was – dining quarters. You were positive he was there; you had checked and double checked the analysis Lotor had given to you. After weeks of trailing this man, you were almost certain he should be dining at this moment in time.

  You kept your footsteps quiet. There was no point in rushing. Sure, you were eager. Eager to see the life drain from his eyes, eager to see justice be served, eager to get your job done – but being too quick on your foot would lead to people noticing you, would lead to your stealth becoming sloppy.

  But subtlety would have to be thrown out of the window eventually. You saw no above-entrance to get into the dining room, meaning you would have to walk directly through the double doors to finish this man off. You would have to be quick about it, giving yourself only a few seconds to inspect who you would have to take down before heading directly for Zarkon.

  You reached the double doors and glanced behind you one last time – there were no guards coming in after you. You were fairly certain you had rid of them all, some of them simply unconscious if they didn't cause too much of a racket. Those who had tried to grab you, or who had tried to call for help had been greeted with a knife in the throat.

  You grinned to yourself, turned on your heel, reached your hand out towards the golden handles of the door-

  Something slammed into the side of you.

  You grunted, falling to the floor. Your fingers knocked against the handle, sending a loud clanging noise to echo through the grand hallway you stood in. It must have also signalled the guards on the other side of it. There was no way they hadn't noticed the sudden jerk of the handle as you fell.

  But you couldn't worry about that now.

  You rolled onto your back, immediately kicking your feet up. You couldn't even see who had attacked you in the first place, but it most certainly wasn't a guard. The person had come from the rooftops – this person was an assassin.

  Competition.

  You nearly sneered, but instead took the time to clamber to your feet after having slammed your feet into the persons chest. You glanced around once you were upright, knife held in your hand – the blood would be an obtrusion, but it was the best you could do at this point. You had no time to clean it.

  That was when you saw the green cloak.

  Your eyes lit up in panic – Pidge Gunderson, one of the head assassins of the Voltron guild. You had heard of her, of course. She was renowned, even amongst the noble men. People feared her. She was small, but she was strong and she was fierce and she very seldom showed any mercy for people who got in her way.

  Apparently, that person was you today.

  The kick you had sent to her chest had most definitely set her off balance. As you stood up and looked over at her, you noticed her stumbling, gripping one hand to her breast and panting heavily. You had winded her.

  But that wouldn't be enough. She would recover soon enough if the rumours of her strength were anywhere near the truth.

  You gripped your knife tighter as she caught herself, eyes snapping up to meet yours. For a moment, neither of you moved. You kept your head down, trying to keep your eyes covered by the lip of your hood – she didn't care. Her hood had long since fallen from her head, revealing her dishevelled brown hair and her sinister eyes that were glowing behind a pair of circular spectacles.

  She panted, raised her knife and slowly started to circle you.

  “They always send their weakest ones on jobs like these,” Pidge spat. Her voice was low, clearly trying to keep up any air of subtlety that she could. “They should have known you wouldn't last a minute if you came across one of our people.”

  You didn't respond. If there was one thing Lotor had taught you during your time in the Galra guild, it was never to stoop to their level, never give them the satisfaction of a comeback. Especially if the assassin was as smart and quick as Pidge Gunderson.

  Pidge smirked at your silence, clearly impressed with your reserve. Assassins were known to be easily angered – that was part of what made them so scary, so feared amongst the nobility. If the nobility even stepped out of line once, rage from guilds all across the province would be triggered.

  “He's trained you well,” she continued. “But not well enough. You should have known to have stayed away as soon as you heard that I'd been given this job. Zarkon is my kill.”

   She jumped towards you then, but you were prepared. Your cloak flurrying behind you, you span out of the way of her first blow, landing in a crouch against the marble floor. Pidge was quick, though. She parried, immediately swinging her blade in a downward arc towards you, slashing it down your arm and cutting the fabric of your cloak.

  You hissed, stumbling up from your crouch. The cold feeling of blood dribbling down your arm was already starting to bother you, though it didn't stop you from sending your elbow up, slamming it into Pidge's chin as she came at you again. She grunted, her head swinging backwards, giving you just a few seconds to get away.

  Perhaps if you could get yourself up onto one of the masts, you would be okay. You'd be able to distract her long enough to allow you some time to get into the dining room, finish the job, and leave.

  But the risk was a great one, especially with your wounded arm. If Zarkon had guards with him – which he most likely did – you wouldn't be able to fight them all off with only one good arm.

  You cursed, your options dwindling. Lotor wouldn't be happy to know that you had come back to the guild with nothing to report on. You hadn't even gathered any useful information – you hadn't expected to run into trouble this large.

  Pidge recovered quickly from the blow you had sent to her. Her height made it easy for you to lose track of her, though the green cloak was far from subtle, warning you of her presence as she darted towards you.

  You dodged her first blow and swung your knife when she skidded past you. You heard her yell, your knife making contact with the side of her face, slicing her cheek. The cut was shallow, but it still drew blood – definitely not enough to keep her out of your way, but enough to distract her.

  You jumped up as she dabbed her fingertips against her now wounded cheek, one arm wrapping around the low masts. You grunted, biting down on your lip to disguise the cry of pain that so badly wanted to burst from your system as you did so – your arm was throbbing. Blood was pooling out around the wound, making tears sting your eyes as you felt it splitting even further with your attempts to pull yourself up onto the mast.

  It became too much. Your fingers loosened around the knife you had been holding, and you watched in horror as it clattered to the ground with a loud clink.

  Pidge's head snapped up to look at you, her eyes wide, alert. There was no way the guards hadn't heard that.

  You were proven correct whenever the doors to the dining room finally swung open. You cursed to yourself, pulling yourself up with one final burst of strength and kneeling down in the masts, looking down at the guards who flooded into the room.

  Pidge was still kneeling on the floor, delicate fingertips caressing the cut you had sliced into her cheek. She had looked away from you now, instead choosing to turn her death glare to the people marching towards her now.

  Your breathing grew shallow. Your knife was in the middle of the room. They would notice it. They would know there was somebody else in the room, another assassin alongside Pidge.

  You held your breath and watched the scene unfold, unsure of what else to do. There was no way you could retrieve it now.

  Especially not whenever Zarkon sauntered into the room, purple cloak billowing out behind him in a way that reminded you that this man truly thought he was a kind, some deity that should be praised and bowed to. It made you sick. For a moment, you were half tempted to just take the chance; jump down from the masts and attack him where he stood, no matter the consequences.

  You stayed where you were, the blood pooling around your fingers reminding you why you had fled from the scene in the first place.

  “An assassin,” Zarkon said as he walked towards Pidge. “What a surprise.”

  She didn't reply.

  Zarkon grinned brightly. Guards had grabbed Pidge by the shoulders at this point, her feet lifted off of the floor, green cloak dishevelled and her hair even messier. She didn't panic of flurry in their grip; she simply let them hold her, glaring daggers at the nobleman walking towards her.

  “Has Takashi not learned his lesson from the last assassin he sent to kill me?” said Zarkon. “What was their name? Allura? That poor girl – a beginner, I can only assume. She most definitely wasn't skilled in the art of subtlety, but that seems to be a running theme for people from your guild.”

  Pidge clenched her jaw, and you felt your stomach coil. The thing was, Pidge was good at being subtle. You hadn't even suspected her in the room with you until she had attacked. It was you dropping your knife that had roused the attention of the guards.

  Why wasn't she saying anything? She knew where you were. She had seen you scramble up into the masts. There was no way she believed you had fled without your knife – what kind of assassin would you be without your blade?

  Zarkon slowly trailed his eyes over the marble room, and it was then that he spotted the blade in question lying in the middle of the floor. You held your breath again, slowly ducking down a little bit further, hoping and praying to whoever was listening that you were hidden well enough.

  He frowned and approached the blood stained knife. It was short, almost laughable in comparison to the machete Lotor wielded, or the double bladed katana that Keith had. But it was your knife, and it currently had his guards blood on it.

  “This isn't yours, is it?” he asked. He kneeled down and picked it up between his forefinger and thumb, inspecting it. The blood dripped off the end of it, making you wince. “Who is with you, assassin? Who else is lurking around in my palace?”

  Pidge didn't reply at first. Her breathing had turned shallow, eyes darting around the room and yet she still refused to look up at you, hiding away in the masts.

  You felt cowardly. You wanted to do something. You oddly wanted to help, but you were weaponless, and you were injured. There was little you could do without risking both your and Pidge's life at the same time.

  Zarkon turned towards Pidge, his jaw clenched as her silence was the only response he received.

  “This was fun up until now,” he growled. “I was showing you mercy. I could have ordered my men to kill you on sight, and yet you are still breathing in front of me now. I suggest you tell me who is with you, or else I might not be so lenient.”

  Pidge spat. “Go to hell.”

  Zarkon's eyes darkened before he nodded to the guard who was holding Pidge. Your stomach dropped as the guard immediately pulled a dagger from his waist holster and held it to the assassins throat, causing her to grunt and writher a tiny bit in his grip. She was clearly trying to keep her dignity, not wanting to make too much of a scene in fear of seeming scared of a man like Zarkon; he was a coward. He got his guards to do his work for him, killed innocents purely because he feared the idea of competition. He made you sick, and now he was holding one of your own with a dagger to their throat.

  Because that was what Pidge was. You and her could have all the competition in the world, but Pidge was an assassin. She understood you. She knew what you had been through, and you both had the same goal.

  You had to do something.

  “Are you going to speak now?” Zarkon questioned. “One inch at a time, that blade will cut your throat. I will spare you if you tell me who your companion is.”

  “If you kill me, you'll never know.”

  Zarkon's eyes glowed. “You sure do have a smart mouth on you for somebody so small. How old are you, little one? Nine? Ten?”

  “I may be young, but I've seen things you wouldn't even dream of, Zarkon. I'm stronger than you in every sense imaginable. So do your worst.”

  What was she doing?

  Zarkon's grin only brightened. He nodded to his guard once again, and you watched in horror as the blade was dug a little further into Pidge's neck.

  She closed her eyes, breathing going erratic for a moment before she calmed down. Blood pooled over the edge of the dagger, dripping onto Pidge's sandalled feet.

  “Are you going to talk now?” Zarkon questioned.

  “The blade is mine,” Pidge hissed.

  Your stomach dropped. You weren't entirely sure you had heard her right – did she just claim that your fallen blade was hers? Did she understand how much trouble that could get her in? It was one thing entering the palace with one blade, but two would surely have her publicly hung for her crimes.

  Zarkon raised a bushy eyebrow, looking back down at your knife in his hands. You would do anything to retrieve that now. You needed to help Pidge.

  “You truly walked into my palace, intent on killing me with two guild blades?”

  Pidge nodded. “Two is always better than one, my good man.”

  “Funny how that works,” Zarkon growled, before he stepped forward and swung your knife towards Pidge in a surprisingly professional arc.

  Your legs took on a mind of their own, doing their own thing completely against your will. You were jumping from the masts before you could stop yourself, winding around a pole and landing in a crouch upon the floor. Your hood was still pulled on over your head, but a guard gasping, “A Galra assassin!” gave your identity away almost immediately.

  You didn't wait for the reaction of Zarkon. You needed to get to him as fast as possible.

  His arm was still in the air by the time you reached him. He went to bring it down towards Pidge, a killing blow, but your hands wrapped around his wrist and you tugged. He stumbled backwards, a cry of surprise escaping him as the two of you fell to the ground.

  You immediately took the initiative, straddling the nobleman and fighting your knife from his grip. He was yelling, screaming for his guards to do something, but all he had at the moment where the three guards who had been dining with him – you and Pidge had killed and knocked out the others.

  You span around, facing the two guards who were diving towards you. One of them still held Pidge, who was staring at you with wide eyes as you danced around the attackers.

  One of them pulled a sword from a sheath on his back – a proper sword, silver and glistening in the white light of the marble room. You smirked at it.

  “I always did enjoy a challenge.”

  You stepped forward, making it seem like you were going to try and clash your dagger against his sword – how stupid he must have thought you to be. Instead, your step forward turned into you rolling against the floor, back against the marble. The guard grunted, looking down at you, and it was then that you brought your feet up, landing them directly into the area between his legs.

  He cried out, eyes watering immediately. He doubled over, and you sent your heels into his chin, knocking him backwards.

  You stood up quickly, grabbed his fallen sword and stuck it through his chest before he could even comprehend the idea of standing up.

  The second guard came at you quickly. You span on your heel, immediately clashing your new weapon against his; now you had a sword. Now, your disadvantage was non-existent bar the fact that your skills in fighting were much more polished than his. Whilst the noblemans guards had been trained in the art of battle, you had been trained in the art of stealth. You knew how to creep around a man, how to take him by surprise; the guards knew how to charge, how to run into violence head first. They didn't know the manoeuvrers you did.

  That much was made clear in the way this particular guard struck his sword towards you. With the mix of shock from the death of his friend and the anger he must have felt, his moves were sloppy. There were tears stinging in his eyes as he made a sharp swing towards you; one you easily blocked with your sword. The shock off the swing wasn't even that big, meaning his hit had surely been one he hadn't exactly planned out.

  That was his first mistake; sloppiness.

  Zarkon was yelling in the background, still trying to stand up though the shock from the current situation was keeping him pinned to the floor.

  Pidge was writhering in her captives grip, yelling for you to stop being stupid, to get out of the way, but you weren't listening to her. The thrill was back again, and you couldn't help yourself.

  You would get both you and Pidge out of here.

  You swung your sword and the guard blocked it easy enough. He smiled as if he had won some kind of victory – that smile was quickly sheared as you parried and slammed the end of your sword into his neck. He gasped, sword clattering to the ground as his hands came up and wrapped around his own throat, his breathing suddenly turning into desperate gasps.

  You took your chance, swinging the blade and stabbing it through his stomach.

  Zarkon yelled. “Damn you! Damn you all!”

  He was still trying to get away. You could pay attention to him later.

  For now, you span on your heel and turned towards the guard holding Pidge. She was now staring at you with wide eyes, a slight smile on her face, but it shifted once she noticed where your attention truly was; not on her, but the guard holding her.

  Your gaze seemed to almost remind her that she was, indeed, currently being held in somebodies grip.

  She raised a brow, and to your surprise, she leaned forward and clamped her teeth down on the guards hands. The guard was in a daze, having just seen two of his friends be cut down with such precision, by a person so small, by a person beneath him nonetheless.

  He yelled, trying to pull his hand from between her teeth but she kept her grip tight. You watched on in slight amusement as she kicked her feet back, digging the heels of her shoes into the mans thighs until his legs gave in and he fell to the floor. Pidge immediately rolled out of his grip, and you found yourself tossing her your blade once she was free. She grabbed it, winked at you, span on her heel, and dug the blade directly into the mans throat.

  He stayed upright for the space of a few seconds before he fell to the side, blood spraying out between his fingers. In a matter of minutes, you were surrounded by three dead people and a panicked nobleman.

  You and Pidge stood side-by-side, casting glances towards the cowering nobleman. He was in the corner, knees bunched up to his chest, eyes wide and tear glistened. He wasn't even looking at his fallen soldiers, instead keeping his gaze directly on the two assassins in front of him.

  Pidge stepped forward. “What an interesting change of events, don't you think, Y/N?”

  You pursed your lips. “Just kill him and get it over with.”

  “There's no point in killing him. We'll let him rot here. He can't hire any more guards – not with the debt he's in. Not with the lives he's taken. We leave this palace and his entire empire falls.”

  Zarkon's eyes widened. “Just kill me.”

  “That would be mercy,” Pidge growled. “That is something you do not deserve.”

  She turned on her heel, placed your blade back into your hands before she walked out of the marble room. You watched her leave, your mouth open in shock; that was now what you had expected. You had expected her to put the man down as soon as she had the chance.

  But perhaps she was right; whenever you had to live with guilt, death seemed more of a mercy than life did.

  The night air encompassed you as you stood upon the lip of the rooftop that you visited one night out of every month. The stars were bright this night, the moon glowing a deep red colour; you had arrived earlier than usual just to see the red moon. Red. The colour of blood. Red. The colour you saw so often, the colour of the thrill.

  It wasn't calming. In fact, standing upon this roof now was almost a form of self hatred, reminding you of the people you had killed and the lives you had taken so you could afford to live as you did; certainly not in luxury, but you were well. You were alive. You were fed. You had clothes on your back and a family to go home to – a family of assassins, none of whom were related to you by blood, but that didn't matter. They protected you, and that was what made a family at the end of the day.

  “Where did it all go wrong, Pidge?”

  She stepped out of the shadows. You barely heard her. You very rarely did. You knew she was there though, watching you closely, keeping an eye on you like she had promised to do.

  She had been keeping her promise. You had saved her life that day, all them months ago, and she was now going to make sure no harm came to you.

  “I don't know,” she responded softly. “I prefer not to question it a lot of the time.”

  “That's odd of you,” you said, turning to look at her. “You question everything else.”

  She smiled lightly, ducking her head down with her arms folded over her chest. Once again, the hood of her green cloak was pulled away from her hair, releasing the light brown nest that she so rarely styled to look like anything more than a mess – but it suited her. You couldn't imagine her with anything else.

  “Questions are important,” she said. “They stop you from doing idiotic things. Sometimes questioning things is good.”

  “And what about impulse? Spontaneity? You miss out on such life changing events purely because you keep everything to a direct plan.”

  Pidge frowned. “That's not true.”

  “How is it not? I don't think I've ever seen you do something without a plan beforehand.”

  “You haven't known me for that long, Y/N,” she said, before she looked up at you. “That's what scares me the most.”

  You narrowed your eyes, unsure if she could see you in the darkness. The red moon seemed bright, but it did very little to illuminate the surrounding area. “What do you mean?”

  Pidge stepped forward then, startling you. You nearly took a step back, the instincts of an assassin welling up inside of you, driving you to protect yourself. But Pidge was no threat. Despite the scar you bore on your arm from the slash of her blade, or the scar she wore on her cheek from the slash of yours, you two were allies.

  Perhaps more than that, though you refused to ponder on such a ridiculous concept.

  “You've known me for no longer than five months, and yet I find myself thinking about you more often than not,” she said. Your eyes popped open in surprise.

  She took another step towards you, sighed. “You say I'm not spontaneous or impulsive, but I truly didn't mean for this to happen when I came up here tonight.”

  “D-Do what?” you stammered, before silently cursing yourself for sounding so weak. This was Pidge. You had nothing to be afraid of.

  “This.” She took the final step towards you, gently placed her hand on the back of your neck and drew you close to her. She paused, a breath away from your face. You could feel the warm heat radiating off of her, her skin boiling beneath the thick cloak she wore. You could smell the fresh blood on her, no doubt from a recent kill she had been ordered to be a part of.

  She let her gaze travel down to your lips, making sure you weren't about to pull away in disgust. A part of you was tempted – assassins weren't meant to fall in love. You were a killer. You didn't deserve to take lives and live a full one at the same time.

  But her eyes had trapped you, and the feeling of her small hand against the back of your neck, and the sound of her heavy breathing was enough to keep you frozen in space.

  And then she was pressing her lips to yours, and everything else fell into place at the same time.

  There was a constant weight on your shoulders, being an assassin. A constant fear that somebody was going to attack you, somebody was going to find the location of the guild and take you all out. That was always a risk, and it was one that left you on edge at all hours of the day.

  Never before had you believed that that edge could be taken off by something as simple as a kiss, but god did you suddenly melt.

  Your lips moulded against Pidge's, your body doing the exact same thing. You two seemed to fit perfectly together, her hands falling from your neck and resting themselves on your waist. You weren't entirely sure what to do with your hands, but found yourself placing them on either side of her face, pulling her that little bit closer to you.

  And the moment was perfect. Amongst the fighting and the violence and the lives you lived, this moment was perfect.

[yoakkemae]

musical  instruments  that  my  muses  know  how  to  play: 

melinda:  piano.  learnt  as  a  child  ,  kept  the  habit  as  an  adult.  the  house  she  had  with  andrew  had  a  piano  ,  but  she  left  it  and  music  behind  after  bahrain.  

alex:  none.  alex  didn’t  have  the  patience  for  an  instrument  and  preferred  more  physical  sports.

shōto:  none.  endeavour  wouldn’t  let  him  waste  time  with  a  musical  instrument  when  he  could  be  training  to  be  a  hero.

xiaolang:  piano.  he  can  read  a  music  sheet  and  play  accompaniment  but  he’s  not  the  best.  he  sucks  at  playing  the  recorder  ,  but  he  learns  it  in  school. 

spencer:  he  never  actually  learnt  it  ,  but  he  started  playing  around  with  a  keyboard  after  meeting  sammy.  he  can  play  melodies  ,  but  he’s  not  good  even  if  his  notes  are  accurate.

kanda:  violin  ,  not  learnt  in  this  life.  he  rarely  plays  it  just  because  of  that.  

dick:  guitar  and  ukulele  !!  he  learnt  guitar  at  the  circus  and  wasn’t  good  at  it  at  first  ,  but  he  kept  practising  and  got  a  lot  better  at  it.  ukulele  ,  he  learnt  when  he  was  an  adult.

rose:  none.  never  was  anything  she  was  interested  in.  she  did  do  cambodian  ballet  when  she  was  younger  until  her  mother  /  sisters  were  killed.

ben:  violin  and  piano.  just  a  part  of  princely  lessons.  

yaling:  none.  also  not  really  interested  in  it  and  preferred  to  do  sports.

kaito:  piano.  he  got  bored  one  night  and  taught  himself  to  play  the  piano  because  he’s  one  of  those  assholes.

shinichi:  violin.  i  feel  like  i  don’t  need  to  share  the  reason  why  (  sherlock  holmes  fanboy  ).

ran:  basic  guitar.  has  two  lessons  under  her  belt.  she’s  not  that  fond  of  it  ,  but  she  does  think  it’s  cool.

martha:  none.  leo  was  the  artistic  one  of  the  three  ,  and  martha  was  always  more  into  the  hard  sciences.

ahn:  a  little  bit  of  guitar.  he  knows  how  to  play  a  few  songs  ,  but  that’s  it.

jayoon:  technically  none  but  she  could  spend  a  few  hours  and  learn  how  to  play  any  instrument  perfectly  ,  cold.

nobleman:  same  as  the  above.

kakashi:  guitar.  had  to  learn  it  for  an  undercover  assignment.  hasn’t  used  it  since.  

sasuke:  none.  not  with  vengeance  on  the  brain.

naruto:  none.  no  money  and  no  time.

satoshi:  none.  not  with  training  on  the  brain.

tsubasa:  none.  his  parents  were  too  busy  trying  to  prepare  him  for  the  future.

[yoakkemae]

nobleman  has  always  been  a  little  bit  obsessed  with  koo  jayoon.  she  was  the  only  one  of  the  other  children  who  had  been  stronger  than  him  ,  and  jealousy  and  admiration  both  kept  his  attention  on  her.  even  when  she  escaped  ,  he  trained  with  the  hopes  of  becoming  stronger  than  her  (  even  though  the  professor  thought  she  had  died  but  he  knew  that  she  wouldn’t  have  ).

[yoakkemae]

Jayoon completely destroyed Nobleman's ribs in their fight, which actually ended up being a more serious threat than the stab wound to the heart. That had completely healed within a few hours, but most of his powers were working towards fixing his ribs, which took about two days to completely regenerate.

[yoakkemae]

Nobleman has two scars from Jayoon, one on his forehead that he received when Jayoon escaped from the facility ten years ago, and another one on his chest from when Jayoon stabbed his heart.

[yoakkemae]

nobleman  &  trinity.  [  a  mixture  of  canon  ,  headcanons  ,  and  @holmesdepot.  ]

i  personally  think  that  nobleman  and  trinity’s  relationship  is  a  lot  more  complex  than  we  see  in  canon  (  which  is  not  much  because  trinity  is  a  side  character  with  no  name  ,  even  in  the  credits  ).  it’s  clear  that  despite  their  ages  (  where  trinity  is  a  few  years  older  )  that  she  is  his  second  ,  and  in  part  it’s  because  he’s  a  full  classification  stronger  than  she  is  power-wise  (  so  he  was  named  leader  as  mandated  by  the  company  )  but  i  think  it’s  also  in  part  because  she  does  respect  and  like  him  well  enough.

out  of  his  team  ,  trinity  is  the  only  one  he  really  genuinely  cares  for.  some  of  her  brightest  smiles  in  canon  have  been  directed  at  him  ,  and  some  of  his  most  kind  moments  have  been  directed  at  her.  (  her  grinning  at  him  as  she  shows  him  her  hands  covered  in  blood  ,  his  smile  as  he  reaches  over  to  pat  her  head  ).  he  trusts  her  to  do  her  job  and  do  it  well  ,  and  she  trusts  him  not  to  lead  them  into  despair  ,  even  if  she  may  push  him  for  answers  for  his  orders.  (  but  ,  in  part  ,  that  shows  their  trust  in  each  other  because  he  could  very  easily  kill  her  for  the  disrespect  but  doesn’t  ).

i  don’t  think  that  they  could  be  romantically  involved  --  they  are  currently  a  little  too  broken  for  that  ,  but  there’s  certainly  a  type  of  codependency  there.  it’s  why  in  any  canon  where  nobleman  survives  and  trinity  does  not  because  she’s  killed  by  jayoon  that  nobleman  will  continue  to  go  after  jayoon.  in  a  world  where  trinity  survives  ...  nobleman’s  more  likely  to  cut  his  losses  with  hunting  jayoon  down  and  travel  with  trinity  to  take  down  the  organisation  (  and  if  they  find  jayoon  along  the  way  ...  ).

[yoakkemae]

nobleman, tag drop.

⤷ nobleman.【 ❝ our lives are so fucked up. we can’t even die properly. ❞ 】interactions.

⤷ nobleman.【 ❝ life doesn’t always work the way you want it to. ❞ 】images.

⤷ nobleman.【 ❝ be careful. i’m not the same as before. ❞ 】analysis.

⤷ nobleman.【 ❝ having a name is better than calling each other by numbers. ❞ 】character study.