#I hope I made him suitably unsettling

[hueseok]

( 16. ) A LOVER’S KISS.

a friends with benefits relationship never ends on a good note. unless, both parties are not dumb fucks who find themselves falling for each other along the way of their agreement, of course.

and in yours and jeongguk’s case, you should have known better than to think the two of you would be an exception to the so-called curse of being friends with benefits with someone you already hold dear to you, since not even five months since it was agreed upon—the line between being only friends and being a little like lovers only continue to get hazier and hazier.

━ jeongguk x reader ━ 4.1k words. ━ 18+ ━ smut | angst | fluff | friends with benefits au | idiots to lovers au | college au | yearning? pining? | ft. swimmer!jeongguk, editor-in-chief!reader (small appearances from swimmer!jimin & associate editor!taehyung) ━ warning/s: swearing

note. no smut for this part, but i’m keeping the rating 18+ and have the smut label above since this drabble series overall isn’t suitable for minors !!

[ chapter index. ]

EPISODE 16. the one with a lover’s kiss !

jeongguk couldn’t sleep the night before the competition.

it’s not the first time this happened, of course. one can guess that he should be used to it at this point due to the nerves and the pressure and his desire to do great for the sake of the university’s reputation and for his own reputation as well (and maybe because of the expectations of his coach too who often wasn’t that kind in order to push him to the farthest of his limits). 

however, as made apparent by you before you attended class earlier, he didn’t just have the game to keep in mind for tomorrow, no—because as you have explained to him and cruelly reiterated when he called you a few minutes ago just for the purpose of hearing your voice before he tried to sleep—tomorrow was also going to be the day in which you were going to tell him your decision on whether you were willing to fully take him back again or not after the whirlwind of events that happened to your relationship these past weeks.

he wanted to believe that he had a good chance in winning you back; he wanted to confidently say that there was perhaps no way you would reject him, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high either. god knows how much that could hurt once you give him your answer and it turns out to be the opposite of what he was guessing. though a part of him was already convinced that surely, you wouldn’t have entertained his sweet gestures this week since making up if it wasn’t going to lead to you taking him back, right?

right? 

you possibly couldn’t be that brutal.

though in your defense, he didn’t think he had the right to be angry if leading him on was your plan all along. truth be told, he has been both intentionally and unintentionally brutal to you before to have the nerve to complain, that if you were going to take this opportunity to get the revenge you wanted, then he should just be a man about it and accept it the way it is.

***

“i don’t see her.”

jeongguk couldn’t breathe. he took a dramatic inhale to calm himself and regulate his heartbeat. “anywhere? you don’t see her with the guys and just—somewhere in the bleachers, maybe?”

“nope.” jimin glanced at him. “why? is ____ not coming? haven’t you two made up already? don’t tell me you did something stupid again.”

“we’re fine.” he rolled his eyes, slightly unsettled by his own statement. “it’s just important that she’s here.”

“yeah, i know, she’s your lucky charm, blah blah blah.”

“it’s not that.” jeongguk huffed. “well, it’s a part of it, but it’s bigger than that. is it wrong for me to want to try and find her before the competition begins?”

“yeah, coach would kill you if he doesn’t find you here when he arrives, so i advise you to just chill and be patient. maybe she’s just running a bit late.”

“yeah, you’re right. i’m just paranoid, am i?”

“what are you even exactly paranoid about?” jimin asked.

jeongguk frowned. talking about it out loud made it too real, and he preferred not to do it because of that, but he figured that he should at least tell someone about it if he wanted more insight perhaps. at least jimin has been a far better partner to yebin than jeongguk ever was to you to not be the person suitable to talk about this with. “she said if she doesn’t attend, that means she’s dumping me.”

jimin’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. “really? i never thought ____ had it in her.”

“she made it clear that she’s not going to see me anymore if i don’t see her today. i’m practically on the verge of death right now—or the start of my emo boy era.”

 jimin snorted. “didn’t you already go through that phase?”

“no, i haven’t.”

“yeah, you have. you’ve been moping for a few solid weeks when you and her weren’t okay. can’t say that you don’t deserve it. after what you did, you realize that it’s fair for her to play you around a bit, right?”

jeongguk wanted to strangle jimin sometimes because of his bluntness and desire to always tease the hell out of the people he’s close with (which unfortunately included jeongguk). but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that it was good to have a friend like him who could slap the facts in your face in order for you to see the truth and the implication of your actions—and be sometimes funny with it, for that matter.

“is it really?” jeongguk asked.

“well… i mean, it is in a way that you should see how lucky you are that you’re going to get your answer straight away. if i was her, i would have dragged this winning her back thing for a whole year before dropping the bomb that maybe we should just stay friends.”

“you seriously can’t be that cruel, jimin.”

“i could be, if someone really fucked me up.” he laughed. “but ____ isn’t like that. and i know she has strong feelings for you too. so maybe the best course of action now is to just trust what she decides for the both of you and live with it.”

this wasn’t the pep talk that jeongguk was expecting to receive before the tournament.

“and what am i supposed to do if she doesn’t come and that means we’re really over?” he questioned again.

jimin sighed. “then i guess you just have to go back to your emo tendencies and move on.”

***

the first time jeongguk personally asked if you could go to one of his matches, you and him weren’t secretly sleeping with each other yet. you were still in that weird phase of being great friends when you have the rest of the gang with you, but suddenly being really quiet and awkward with each other when it was just you two. he never even thought of inviting you alone when it came to his scheduled races, believing that he was doing the both of you a favor by not putting yourselves in a situation wherein you and him will just fall back to the usual cringeworthy interactions that will lead him physically wincing whenever he remembered them.

but that time, you overheard his conversation with taehyung who was apologizing that he couldn’t come for his match that weekend because of a project he needed to work on, and jeongguk, upon hearing him explain, visibly expressed his disappointment at the news because he wanted a friend to be there just so they could take a proper picture and video for him that he could look back after (if it wasn’t mentioned yet, jeongguk was obsessed with always doing a better performance than his last).

“i can go,” you volunteered before, your eyes focused still on the monitor inside the campus publication office but your ears were paying attention to them. “i’m free this saturday.”

jeongguk looked at you afterwards with a look that showed absolute hesitance. he was thankful that you weren’t peering at him to notice. “oh. you sure, ____? i wouldn’t want to bother you.”

“it’s fine.” you flickered your gaze to him. “though, if you don’t want me to be there, that’s totally okay too—”

“what? don’t be ridiculous.” a very very awkward chuckle tumbled out of jeongguk’s lips, one that taehyung furrowed his eyebrows at because of how fake it sounded. “why wouldn’t i want you to be there? of course you can come. i’d be really glad if you do.”

he didn’t know what response he was expecting, but you grinned, nodding in an skeptical manner, and then returned to what you were doing like nothing happened. jeongguk decided to face taehyung again afterwards, the latter staring at him with a similar dubious yet funny look, but he punched his arm and opted to flee from the office, muttering that he was going to be late for class if he stayed any longer.

fast forward to when the tournament came and he finished first place, he was ecstatic, brimming with pride because of his accomplishment—and when he met you outside the locker room to thank you for really coming and taking shots of him that he would review that night, he was a bit startled when you congratulated him with a tight hug, not used to that kind of affection from you.

sure, he always knew you were sweet to your close friends. you were like that to goeun, taehyung, and haru.

to him, though? that was the first.

“i’m so proud of you, guk!” you told him, the smile on your face so bright that he thought he might have to squint to look at you properly. “this is your first win of the season, right?”

jeongguk nodded. “yeah, i think it is.”

from that point forward, things weren’t so awkward between the both of you. your friendship solidified further when he asked if you wanted to help him with something at his uncle’s newly built restaurant, and you agreed, recognizing the same newfound comfort he was beginning to feel that you were eager to foster it more because it didn’t sit right with you how you were alright with everyone else and yet weird with him.

now, he didn’t want to think of the possibility of things being like that again. he barely survived not talking to you that much during the soomi fiasco and the period wherein he purposely avoided you to not cause any more damage than he had after the confrontation. it was one of the driving forces why he made up his mind in truly pursuing you—the realization that he wasn’t fond of the idea of not being able to talk to you every single day, of not being able to tell you the most random things and be certain that you would always know what to say next.

entering the natatorium, jeongguk didn’t appear as if he was hiding the fact that he was searching for you among the crowd. he already quickly spotted taehyung, haru, and goeun at their spot (you weren’t there), and then he tried searching for yebin, hoping that you decided to accompany her instead this time to create some kind of suspense (you still weren’t there when he saw her). so, all he could do after was let his eyes explore the whole venue as fast as he could, his heart hammering harder at every instance he failed to find you.

was this going to be the end of it all?

were you not coming?

was yesterday the final moment he got to hold you?

“guk,” his coach abruptly called his attention, “take your jacket off. it’s about to start,” he said, noticing jeongguk’s stiff posture as he stood there at the starting platform, immobile while the other players he was competing against were already removing their clothes.

jeongguk took one long scan again.

he still couldn’t see you.

and although he has yet to dive into the water, it felt as if he lost the ability to swim and was drowning to the bottom of the pool.

****

“congratulations!”

jeongguk could at least afford them a genuine smile as taehyung, haru, and goeun pulled him for a group hug. they simultaneously and continuously patted his back, the two boys doing it in a harsh manner to annoy the hell out of him that jeongguk had to groan and shove them off to prevent them from doing further damage to his aching body, though not without laughing and muttering his thanks for both being here and congratulating him.

“you did great back there,” haru said with a proud grin. “you’re definitely going to be the cover of the next issue again with the victory. i doubt i have to get ____’s approval just to make that happen.”

at the mention of your name, jeongguk’s attempt to seem fine crumbled a little. it didn’t go ignored by the rest of the gang with him; although they weren’t aware of the deal you and jeongguk had, they could understand that your absence today meant that something was wrong.

goeun cleared her throat, the silence insufferable that she couldn’t resist finally speaking up. “well, uh, haru mentioned that he’s also treating us today.” she placed an arm around haru’s shoulders, tiptoeing and struggling in the process. “right, ru?”

haru glanced at her. “i am?”

“you are.” taehyung chimed in, linking his arms with haru as if to lock him in. “you said you would if jeongguk wins first place.”

“i did?” haru’s tone remained confused.

jeongguk had to chuckle at their dumb effort to lighten the mood again. it was obvious that no conversation which involved haru saying that he was going to treat them later if jeongguk indeed won occurred. 

“don’t worry,” jeongguk said to haru, “i already messaged my uncle about the win and he’s gonna cook for us at the restaurant.”

“thank god.” haru exhaled a relieved breath. “because i do not have enough money right now to pay for all of us.” he glared at goeun.

“sorry, but someone had to say something,” she muttered.

“and you thought saying that i was going to treat everybody was the perfect thing to mention?” asked haru.

her shoulders lifted up in a shrug. “you’re the most generous out of us three.”

“no, he’s not,” taehyung butted in, “i think that title goes to me.”

“is it?” goeun asked. “you’re probably the most frugal of us all.”

“sensible is the right term for that,” defended taehyung.

jeongguk was about to join in the banter, to divert the teasing towards taehyung more as some sort of payback for the back slaps he got earlier, but just as he was opening his mouth to get a sentence out, he saw you coming into view.

you were here.

you came.

but you were late. what did that mean?

“____,” jeongguk breathed out.

the group automatically shut up, whirling around to see where jeongguk was staring at.

he was very much tempted to run to you, but his knees stayed put, somehow frozen in place. a part of him perhaps knew that talking to you immediately might be the wrong choice. he was afraid that the reason why you arrived late today was because you were still planning to reject him, that you were just being nice about it by doing it in person instead of text—but that was more cruel, in his opinion. he rather you don’t see his face when give him the news that you’re not willing to be with him again.

“hey,” you said, looking directly at him before diverting your attention to the rest of the crew. “you guys mind if guk and i speak alone?”

a pause.

“yeah, it’s cool.” haru was the first one to say, followed by taehyung, and then goeun.

“thanks.” you smiled.

they awkwardly shuffled and made their way to the exit of the locker room. they gave one last look to jeongguk just as they disappeared into the hallway, as if they were wishing him luck or reassuring him that everything was going to be okay, and looked at you too, as if they were sending a similar message that translated more into ‘please don’t break his heart or else this friend group might turn weird’.

when they were gone and definitely out of earshot, jeongguk finally had the courage to take a step forward. “____,” your name tumbled out of his lips again, “what are you—”

“i told you so,” you cut him off. you were going to lead this conversation, you made that mental note to yourself earlier prior to leaving your place, and you were going to say everything you had to say to him that maybe you never had the courage to do so in the past. “you didn’t need me here to win.”

he frowned. “winning is the last thing on my mind today, honestly.”

“that’s not a good mindset for an athlete.”

“it isn’t.”

you pursed your lips. “still, you won.”

“i guess, i did, huh?”

“without me there too.”

“yeah, you already said so.” although he didn’t appear resentful, he sounded bitter. “are you going to keep repeating that because you want to prove that even without you, i’ll be okay?”

“that wasn’t my intention.”

“then what is your intention exactly? i thought you said that if you didn’t come today, then that would mean that you’re not willing to give me a second chance.”

“and yet… i’m here, guk.”

he raised his eyebrows. “you are, but you were… you’re late.”

“because i chickened out.”

“you chickened out?”

you moved forward and sat on the empty bench across him. it was a lot easier to pour your heart out when doing that was only done through your imagination. “i was supposed to be here earlier. it’s just, uh, i… i’ve been—i’ve been stalling.”

it was true. you were adamant last night that you were going to give him a second chance. you were confident that for the past few days, regardless of how short the span was, jeongguk managed to prove to you that he was serious in wanting to commit to a real relationship with you. you saw that in the manner he always looked after you, in the manner he made time for you, in the manner he didn’t shy away from showing you affection when he felt like it—you were convinced that even though he never said it out loud, he really liked you, because the things he did… you were positive that you didn’t just do that to someone you didn’t like.

but you were also really fucking scared. it dawned to you last night (while you were overthinking everything and talking to yourself) that it indeed hasn’t been that long and that you were being too easy again for jeongguk; you were laying yourself out to him without him struggling that much. and why? because you loved him, of course. because you were afraid that if you prolonged this, he would give up and you were going to be alone and hurt once more.

“hey.” jeongguk placed his hands over yours as he knelt in front of you, hair wet and expression sincere; you didn’t notice him walk towards where you were, you were too preoccupied in your thoughts again to catch it. “you don’t have to…” he struggled with what he was going to say, mostly because it wasn’t what he wanted to happen, “you don’t have to give me a second chance if you’re not up for it.”

“really?”

his heart dropped. it was only a hypothetical statement; he didn’t expect you to bite the idea.

“um…” he tried to speak, realizing that acting like a martyr isn’t part of his portfolio, but he was willing to act one right now to not make this harder for you. “i mean… it’ll suck ass, and i’ll probably cry for months, and i’ll beg you first not to date anyone else while we’re still studying in the same university—but after that, after i stop being a big baby about it,  i’ll…”

“you’ll what?” you were waiting for what he was going to tell you next. the corners of your mouth were turned slightly upwards at the hint of playfulness in his tone.

he scooted closer to you. fuck his knee; the high probability of it being bruised if he stays kneeled on the ground was the least of his worries. “i’ll stay by your side and i’ll try harder until you get tired of me. it’s what i told you the other day, didn’t i? i won’t ask you to be gentle with my feelings—i’ll let you torture me and walk me around like a dog. i’ll follow you wherever you’ll go, just patiently waiting ‘til you decide i’m worth your time. i’ll let you hurt my feelings, ____, because between us two, i know that it’s my heart that deserves a pretty good beating.”

you snorted at how dramatic his speech sounded. “hurting you is far from what i want. i’m not that sadistic.”

“then what is it that you want?”

“you.”

jeongguk couldn’t stop the smile from conquering his features. he got the answer he wanted to hear. “i want you too.”

“i don’t mean that in a horny way, okay?” you quickly clarified and he had the strength now to laugh. “i want you to be here for me—all the time—is what i mean. i want you to continue being my best friend, and i also want you to kiss me whenever you feel like it. i want you to annoy the shit out of me, i want you to hug me, i want you to volunteer to do the most random stuff just to help me, and i want you to keep proving that you want us to work, guk. i want you to always remind me that it’s safe to let my guard down and give you my 100% all the time.”

“i’ll do that, if that’s what you want,” he promised. “you can trust me, babe. you can even exceed that 100% and make it 200 or a thousand—” your laughter echoed in the locker room.

jeongguk joined you, laughing as well, but as he did, it was also sinking in that what happened between the both of you left a huge mark that made it difficult for you to trust him. he couldn’t blame you, no, not after what he did, and he was eager to change that. he was optimistic that he could do that—because he knew it inside him that he has strong feelings for you. he could even say that he loved you and it would feel right.

“i’m sorry for being late,” you said.

he shook his head. “don’t be. i kind of deserved it.”

“well, you’re not wrong.”

“wow. you’re not a sadist, huh?”

you snickered; jeongguk grinned. he could stay in this moment forever, just you and him staring at each other, this unexplainable yet gooey feeling in your chests making it seem like everything was going to turn out fine.

and then he asked, “can i kiss you?”

your eyebrows rose. you remembered the last time he asked you that, when you were both in the middle of sex and you were hesitant to grant him that kiss because you were afraid of the repercussions that would soon come after once you did. yet, thinking more about the moment, he didn’t really ask you before, really. it was more like a demand, a plea, and it was different from what he was doing right now because despite appearing like he could beg just to get that kiss, it was still so sincere and was done out of—

love.

love? he hasn’t said that out loud before. you didn’t want to assume. but the way he was gazing at you…

you placed your palms on his cheeks while he didn’t hesitate in extending his arms so that they were circled around your waist, pulling you closer that unconsciously caused you to open your legs to make space for his upper body. 

“doesn’t your knee hurt?” you whispered.

jeongguk pressed his lips together. “it’s tolerable.”

there you were again, with that infectious laugh, leading jeongguk to be tempted further to just kiss you without waiting for an answer. “okay, guk.”

he gave you a questioning look.

you rolled your eyes. “yeah. you can kiss me. but if you do...” you trailed, “that would mean that you’re taking the lucky opportunity of being my boyfriend.”

“i’ll make sure to thank you every day for that wonderful honor.” he allowed himself to push forward and kiss your lips. it was what he was dying to do for the past week; it wasn’t enough that he was only close to you or had the permission to hug you every now and then—his body craved to have you close, not in a manner that was horny like disclaimed just seconds ago too, but for all the reasons that you illustrated as well. 

kissing you gave him the signal that you were close. and god, did he always want you close.

“i’ll be better,” he murmured, kissing you continously. “i’ll treat you better, ____.”

you didn’t answer. you just smiled and kissed him further.

when for the past months, having your mouth on his was the thing you had to avoid the most, finally having the liberty to do it now just drove you to do it over and over again.

note. hehe surprise? this update took so long that i think it took two whole damn years before i got the motivation to write again and finish this 😭 apologies for that lmao. life has been a whirlwind but since i'm now in a much happier state, i decided to try continuing this and i'm glad that it ended up with me finally concluding the story :D

honestly, i'm not too sure if got the vibes / essence of the story still since i haven't touched this mini series in such a long time. nonetheless, i did reread it and i hope that i brought justice to what you might have thought the ending was going to be! (also, i might edit this later on for improvement bc i just realized that my writing perhaps did not improve lmao but for now, this is what i can only offer >.<)

as always, THANK YOU FOR READING & FEEDBACK IS ALWAYS APPRECIATED ! ♡(ˆ‿ˆԅ)

taglist (1/3): @fan-ati--c @marknee @sexymenandcuteanimals101 @jiminisnotavirgin @joondala @afangirllikeme-blog @jxxvk @this-is-seriousbusinesz @swga-ficrecs @apollukee @bloopkook @jaerisdiction @thisartemisnevermisses @koolvrr @wearenot7withu @brilliantmoon7 @naturules @betysotelo18 @jinyoungie0922 @codeinebelle @minimoni7 @turquoiseandplaidinautumn @moonchild1 @taeshuworld @daydreambrliever @lilyflowerguk @rjsmochii @namjeonii @drownforryou @sugapiie @emeriroth @xius-exos @sw33tnight @lunaoceanchild @outropjmm @dojacandy @brit97 @abyjil @haruharux23 @haniiii @callmejimmeo @itsalyssa15 @hinawariinoue97 @libra04 @gukkmoans (striked means tumblr won’t let me tag them!)

[ai-em-maes]

🔥🖤 Whispers of a Burning Flame 🖤🔥

~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter Index

Characters - Self Insert OC x Aemond Targaryen

Summary - After escaping capture by a rival family, Vaemyra Blackwood takes residence at the Red Keep, where she embraces her newfound identity as a dragonrider of Valyrian blood. Her presence catches the eye of Prince Aemond, and the two slowly grow closer amidst the shadows of their shared peculiarities.

Word Count - 2.7k

Content - 18+, Major slow burn, fluff, a smidge of angst, smut in later chapters

A/N - n/a

Likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

At the next sunrise, Aemond sauntered out for his morning exercises. Chatter and clashing steel filled the training yard, punctuated by sharp, commanding barks. As the prince navigated the throng of hulking knights and their squires, he spotted a dainty head of silver hovering at the arms station. He drew nearer, and found Vaemyra scrutinizing the array of weaponry available for use. 

Aemond offered her a soft smile. “My Lady.”

Vaemyra glanced up, and for a split second, her breath caught at the sight of him. As much as she still delighted in his presence, a night’s sleep had done little to assuage her worries from the evening before. 

“Oh. My Prince… Good morrow.” In her hands was a held a shabby, hand-drawn bow.

“What brings you here on this fine day?” inquired Aemond.

“I was hoping to find a more suitable archery set to practice with,” Vaemyra sighed, placing the weapon back on its rack. “The equipment I’ve used here at the castle thus far is, well…” 

“Shitty. I’m aware. It’s been years since our Master of Arms has refortified our selection.” 

A silvery chuckle escaped Vaemyra’s lips. “I suppose I’ll have to return to Raventree Hall on dragonback to retrieve my own bow and arrows.”

Aemond went tense. He was unsure whether the statement was another of her jests, but the thought of Vaemyra leaving the Keep unsettled him deeply—even for the short time it might take for her to journey there on dragonback. Some overly fearful part of him even worried he might never see her again if she returned home. 

“There’d be no need for that,” he blurted. 

Lady Blackwood shot him a questioning look.

“What I mean to say is…” He swallowed. “…I would very much like you to stay.”

A smile illuminated Vaemyra’s face, bright as the summer sun, and the prince’s pounding heart fluttered like a bird in its warmth.

Vaemyra bridged the distance between them. “I might be swayed to oblige.” Her voice was sweet as birdsong.

Aemond’s hand burned at his side, yearning to reach for her.

Not a moment later, Ser Steffon approached to inform the prince it was past time for his drills to begin. Lady Blackwood curtsied and left them to their practice.

As he sparred, Aemond fought harder to keep his focus than he did to keep his footing. Even once training had concluded, his stomach remained in knots. Aemond glanced back at the arms station, filled with its shoddy bows, dull arrows, and all manner of other rusted and worn weapons. He pursed his lips in thought, Vaemyra’s last words echoing in his mind. “I might be swayed to oblige.”

A clever grin tugged at the corners of Aemond’s mouth. The dragon prince wasted no time making his way to the armory to speak with the Master of Arms and his bowyer.

Lost in reveries of the prince, Vaemyra strolled through the Keep on her way from the training yard. However, this bliss came to an abrupt end when she felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck. Her body reacted first, as if seized by an invisible force, and she slowed her pace to survey the corridors. She saw nothing of note, at first. A huddle of chattering ladies and their maids. Several Queensguard knights with their squires in tow. A maester on his way to the library with a satchel of scrolls.

But then, there it was. A silver shadow. Vaemyra squinted, and when her vision focused, she made out the shape of the King Consort, Daemon, lurking at the far end of the hall. Their eyes met, and she felt the heat of his smoldering stare on her skin. And then he vanished.

Three days later, Vaemyra still couldn’t shake the bizarre encounter from her mind. Not having the faintest idea what it meant, she wondered if she’d somehow imagined it all. But she knew, without a doubt, that it had filled her with a creeping unease. She paid a visit to Nightgleam, and found the dragon restless, unable to cease grumbling or flicking about her tail. Vaemyra nuzzled her cheek against Nightgleam’s warm scales in an effort to soothe them both. 

After a long morning on dragonback, Lady Blackwood was eager for rest. Upon entering her bedchamber, her eye immediately drew to a peculiar shape resting on the bed. She stepped closer, and waiting for her was a sleek, hand-drawn bow of yew, stained a deep black. Immaculate etchings of dragons adorned its limbs. Beside the bow lay a leather quiver, holding twelve black arrows tipped with dragonglass. The arrows’ fletchings were ravenfeather.

Just as with the dagger, a letter bearing the Targaryen seal accompanied the new gifts.

“Stay with me”, it read. Once again, the letter was unsigned, but there was no mistaking the identity of its benefactor.

The exquisite craftsmanship of the archery set left Vaemyra utterly spellbound. Arrows could be crafted quickly enough, but a bow this fine would have taken at least a fortnight to construct. And yet here it was, mere days after she had expressed her desire for new equipment. Prince Aemond must have had it specially pulled from the royal armory, just for her. With a blissful smile, Vaemyra clutched the bow to her chest. 

Rest could wait. Vaemyra flew from her chambers at once to find Aemond and thank him. She hurried through the Keep, occasionally stopping passersby to inquire of the dragon prince’s whereabouts. But when he was nowhere to be found in the Scholar’s Wing, the training yard, the Great Hall, or any of the courtyards, Vaemyra relented and resolved to try again later. He must be occupied. I wouldn’t wish to disturb him.

In the lonely passageway leading from the Serpentine Steps, Vaemyra sighed and turned about. She then found herself face to face with Daemon Targaryen. 

“Your Grace,” she gasped. Her curtsy, quick and unsteady, betrayed her lingering shock.

Daemon’s eyes combed over her with the same intensity as they had a few days before. “My Lady,” he purred. 

A slight tremor passed through Vaemyra’s body. “Might I be of service to you today, Your Grace?” She was unsure of what else to say.

Closing the gap between them, the King Consort pressed his palm against the wall beside her head, pinning her in place. His gaze groped her up and down, like a hungry wolf upon a lamb. 

“I overhead you recently,” he lilted, towering over her small frame. “Speaking about me to my one-eyed nephew.”

Vaemyra realized he must have been referring to her jape with Aemond about the dagger. She shuddered to think that neither she nor Aemond had been aware of his presence.

“I’ve had my eye on you since you arrived here, you know…” Daemon murmured. He brushed the side of Vaemyra’s face with the back of his fingers.

Though nearly petrified, Lady Blackwood still summoned the willpower to keep her defenses intact. “What is the meaning of this?!” she demanded. Her lips pressed into a thin, dark line. She tried to shove him away, but it only spurred him on.

Daemon brought a finger to her chin, tilting her face towards his. “My nephew is mildly intriguing—I’ll grant him that much. I suppose I understand why you might think yourself to be infatuated with him,” he whispered, drawing their lips closer. “But he can’t please you. Not like I can.” 

His touch was suffocating. It invaded the depths of Vaemyra’s mind, though she could not fully comprehend why. She felt captive, and powerless. And for a brief, but terrifying moment, she was back in the Bracken camp.

That very instant, a fist sent Daemon staggering sideways, nearly toppling him to the ground. In his place stood Prince Aemond, trembling with rage.

“My, my”, Daemon crooned, his smile wicked. He straightened and swallowed the blood from his lip. “Such disrespect for your King Consort.”

Aemond hissed through gritted teeth. “How dare you lay your filthy fucking hands on Lady Blackwood.”

Daemon advanced on him until they were eye to eye. “Oh? And what do you plan to do about it, nephew? Tattle on me to the Queen like a little boy?” 

Aemond’s glare blazed like violet dragonflame. “I’ll kill you.”

Vaemyra’s eyes widened, and she gasped aloud.

Daemon cackled. He placed a hand on Aemond’s chest and gave him a light push backward. “Is that so?”

The moment Aemond’s hand jerked toward the hilt of his sword, Vaemyra threw herself between the two men. She seized the prince by the wrist and yanked him down the corridor, away from his uncle. Daemon stayed there, sneering.  

Aemond trailed behind Vaemyra as she bounded through the halls. When she was certain they were safe from prying ears, she stood directly beneath him, hands balled into petite fists. 

“I thank you dearly for rescuing me from that ordeal,” she huffed, “but what in the name of the Fucking Gods would possess you to threaten the King Consort?! He could have your pretty head mounted on a spike!”

Aemond lapsed into a brooding silence, eye refusing to meet hers.

“Are you even listening?!”

“He won’t retaliate. It would mean admitting what he’d been doing alone with you.”

Vaemyra buried her face in her hands and released a heavy, troubled sigh. “Gods, let us pray you are correct.” She shut her eyes and turned away from him as she tried to compose herself. How could someone so intelligent be so recklessly stupid?

Several minutes passed in silence before Vaemyra pursed her lips and spoke again. “Thank you for the bow and arrows. …They’re extraordinary.” 

Aemond perked up. “Of course. You…deserve fine things.” A faint red tinged his ears.

She spun to face him again, her smile full of affection. “You are very kind, My Prince. I suppose I won’t need to return to home anytime soon. …But now, I should like to find a quiet place to ease my mind from…all this.” Her voice softened. “Are you alright? Is there anything you need of me before I go?”

There were many things Aemond wished to ask of her. An embrace. A kiss. A promise to be his. But he merely shook his head.

Lady Blackwood nodded, then began to take her leave. But before she could reach the end of the corridor, the prince called after her. 

“Do you truly think my head is pretty?” 

Vaemyra glanced at him from over her shoulder. She flashed a coy grin, then continued on her way.

However, as the day wore on, her thoughts kept circling back to that moment at the Serpentine Steps, and the suffocating dread that had taken hold of her.

That night, at the Hour of the Wolf, Vaemyra writhed in her sheets, whimpering and short of breath. Visions of her capture tore through her dreams like a storm. She saw herself, happily loosing arrows in the wood. Then heard the gurgled screams of her maid as her throat was slit. Tasted the grimy rag in her mouth as she was gagged and tied. Felt her body stripped and shaved like a sheep. Smelled the stench of ale on the men’s breath as they gripped her face through wooden bars.

When she could suffer no more, Vaemyra convulsed awake, slick with cold sweat. Her eyes ricocheted deliriously through the darkness of the chamber. With one hand clenching the neck of her chemise, she channeled all her might into breathing, deeply, from her stomach.

Night terrors were nothing new to her. In the weeks since the abduction, she’d been visited by them periodically, but this particular dream had been especially visceral. She pulled her knees to her chest and watched the moonlight weave in and out from behind the clouds outside her window. When this did little to dispel her restlessness, Vaemyra rose from bed, lit a candelabra, and ventured from her chambers into the halls of the Red Keep.

The castle teemed with life in the sunlit hours of the day, but at night, it was cloaked in an otherworldly stillness. Even the serfs and nightwatchmen floated through the corridors like wayward spirits. The cold stone beneath Vaemyra’s feet chilled her as she wandered aimlessly. Eventually, her attention was drawn to the glow of a distant hearth, its orange light flickering through the darkness like a tiny heartbeat. She followed it into a chamber—a tapestry room—and set her candelabra on a nearby trestle.

Facing the hearth were two tufted armchairs a small distance apart—one empty, and one with a crown of silver hair peeking from over its backrest. An arm sleeved in leather draped to its side. Vaemyra crept closer until the figure’s identity revealed itself.

“My Prince?”

Aemond’s head snapped toward the sound of her voice.

“My Lady.” He began to rise in formal greeting.

“No, please. There is no need,” Vaemyra protested as she took the other armchair. 

The prince resettled in his seat, heart thumping at the sight of her in nothing but a chemise. He cleared his throat. “What has you up at this hour?”

“I suppose I might ask you the same,” she teased, looking solemnly into the fire. 

In truth, Aemond’s encounter with the King Consort had left him too agitated to sleep, and the tapestry room was a favorite of his for restless nights. But at the moment, his own troubles were of little concern. Not when Lady Blackwood seemed so shaken and weary, as if trapped beneath a sullen veil. Her face, usually brushed with dark paints and powders, was bare. Her exceptional beauty remained, but never before had Aemond seen her so exposed. So vulnerable.

The prince studied her dotingly. “Is something the matter?” 

“Just a nightmare. I have them often these days,” Vaemyra answered in a voice so faint that Aemond struggled to hear it. She did not move her eyes from the crackling hearth. 

“I see. …I regret I hadn’t realized you were bearing such a burden.”

The lady shook her head. “I do all I can to conceal it. I know I am different. A Blackwood, and yet not. I look nothing like any of my kin. And my mother, sweet though she was, was a whore. I’m peculiar, and dark, and no one’s idea of a proper lady. I hear how others at court speak of me. Heard it my whole life. I pretend that I don’t, to appear strong, but I do. When the world sees you as lesser, you cannot afford to be weak. So I keep my weaknesses hidden, lest the world devour me whole. Even when the pain of all I’ve endured threatens to tear me apart.” She squeezed her eyes shut, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “…Forgive me. I mean not to trouble you, My Prince.” 

Aemond leaned forward and delicately laid his hand over hers. “Trouble me. Please, trouble me.” 

Her breath hitched as she met his gaze. “Aemond…I mean, My Prince—”

“Call me Aemond, if it pleases you. As it pleases me.” 

“…Aemond.”

“Vaemyra.”

Illuminated by the firelight, they drew closer. Their breaths mingled, and then their lips joined in a passionate kiss. Vaemyra caressed the prince’s cheek, ebony nails stark against his alabaster skin. Aemond savored her with a slow, deliberate devotion, as if he were memorizing the very sensation of her against him. The warmth of her skin, the taste of her lips. She answered with equal fervor, her mouth pressing to his with a desperate hunger, as though she could never get close enough. The kiss deepened, full of longing and need, leaving them both burning and breathless.

The stir of passing nightwatchmen disrupted Aemond and Vaemyra’s trance. They pulled away from each other, and one could have heard a pin drop in the pregnant silence that followed. At last, the echoes of the watchmen’s footfalls faded into the corridor.

“…It is very late,” Vaemyra whispered. “I should return to my chambers.” She swiftly rose from her seat and glided to the doorway. Just as her hand reached for the candelabra, the prince spoke.

“I would court you with more grace if I knew how.”

The lady’s heart skipped a beat, then fluttered like a thousand butterflies taking wing in a summer breeze. 

“Your every gesture has gladdened my heart,” she replied, gazing back at him adoringly. “Goodnight, Aemond.” 

“Goodnight, Vaemyra.” His voice was soothing and tender.

Then, Lady Blackwood descended softly into the hall and back to bed, long before her maids could find her missing.

[glimmervoi]

A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - XI Escape

masterlist

e&b masterlist

notes: sorry that it took me so long to upload this! i've been so busy lately that I just havent been able to sit down and focus on this. im not too pleased with this chapter, but then again what else is new lol. i hope that you guys enjoy though. <3

It felt like an eternity since Hoseok had departed, leaving you to gather your composure in the solitude of the supply room before venturing out to fetch their tea. Rae had already departed, expecting you to be in the kitchen working on their refreshments.

After serving their tea, you swiftly made your exit, heading straight for the maids' chambers. There, you found Rae pacing anxiously, with Alice by her side.

Upon your arrival, the two maids' eyes widened in relief. Rae hurried towards you, her hands gripping your arms as she checked you over frantically. "My God, I was so worried!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with concern.

"Did he do anything to you?" Her voice trembled as she released your arms, scanning you for any signs of harm. Relieved to find none, she continued, "That was incredibly bold of him to follow you out like that in front of his mother and his brother. Imagine what could happen if his mother decides to mess with you!"

Alice stood silently behind Rae, her expression inscrutable as she studied you. You shook your head, feeling your lower lip wobble with emotion. "He didn't do anything to me," you started, your voice unsteady, "But he did something to..." Your words faltered as the haunting images of Lady Pyke flooded your mind once more.

"He did something to...?" Rae prompted, leaning forward with concern etched across her features. Taking a deep breath, your hands shaking, you recounted to her what Hoseok had said to you.

Rae's expression twisted into one of sheer horror as your words filled the air. Alice, her hand trembling, instinctively covered her mouth. As you concluded recounting Hoseok's words, Rae exhaled a heavy sigh, her hand finding its way to her chest, her eyes reflecting a mix of shock and disbelief.

"I can't wrap my head around it," she murmured as she shook her head in disbelief. Her lack of interrogation brought a wave of relief, her immediate belief a comforting balm to your unease. As you nervously intertwined your fingers, a chilling realization sliced through your thoughts, sending shivers down your spine.

"Could he... could he possibly do the same to me?" you whispered, your eyes glistening with tears of fear. "I turned him down so many times... What if I've angered him? He made these ominous warnings. What if... what if he intends to harm me like he did Lady Pyke?"

Alice shook her head, her expression pensive. "I don't believe he'd resort to the same extremes with you," she assured, her eyes meeting yours. "His fixation on you seems romantically driven. It's unlikely he'd risk losing you by taking your life. It's possession, not destruction, that drives him."

"He's playing a dangerous game by engaging with her openly before the Queen," Rae remarked, her gaze probing as she studied you intently. "The Queen holds tight reins on marriage prospects for her sons, allowing only those she deems suitable. As a maid without status, if you disrupt her plans by becoming the focus of Hoseok's affections, she won't hesitate to eliminate you."

You wrapped your arms around yourself, suddenly feeling colder than you ever had before. Fear gripped you tightly. Your stay in the castle hadn't unfolded as anticipated, but now it was spiraling into something far more ominous. What had once been mere grievances—a harsh supervisor and monotonous routines—now paled in comparison. Instead, you found yourself entangled in the unsettling fixation of a Prince whose motives remained inexplicable. He had committed unthinkable acts for you, his threats hanging heavy in the air. And looming over it all was his formidable mother, a presence radiating danger. Any association with the prince, coerced or not, would only draw her unwanted scrutiny, placing you in perilous waters.

Rae turned to Alice, her expression a mix of seriousness and contemplation. "Do you think... maybe... we should consider sending her away from the castle?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Staying here would only be a death sentence for her."

Alice's eyes widened slightly, and a strange look flickered across her face before she slowly shook her head. "I don't think that would be the best idea," she said, fidgeting with the edge of her white apron. "If Hoseok is truly this obsessed with her, he would go to the ends of the earth to find her. She could be in even more danger if she runs."

Rae placed her hands on her hips. "Yes, but staying here puts her directly in the Queen's path. Hoseok might be crazy enough to chase after her, but the Queen will outright kill her once she learns about her son's infatuation. And she will find out—he's being far too obvious about his feelings."

You frowned as you listened to their debate about your possible fate. Both made valid points. Running could endanger people outside the castle—Hoseok would surely kill anyone he suspected of helping you. But if he continued to be so bold, especially in his mother's presence, the Queen herself would end your life.

It was selfish, but... you did not want to die. That was the entire reason you had come to the castle in the first place. Your home village was a death trap due to the lack of resources, and the city offered no opportunities unless you could miraculously learn a new skill overnight.

You were bound by a five-year contract with Sanria, though you had not seen the irritable old maid in some time. It was not as if you could simply flee the castle on your own.

You wished to escape and needed assistance. Clearing your throat, you steadied your voice and fixed your gaze on Rae and Alice. They turned their attention to you, their argument fading away.

"I do not want to die," you said, clutching the hem of your white apron. "I'm sorry, but I don't. I want to leave, please. I know it's a risk, and I know it could put you both in danger, but I..."

Your voice cracked slightly, and you took a deep breath. Rae's eyes were understanding, and she nodded. Alice, however, did not look pleased. Rae spoke before Alice could refuse.

"I understand," she said, taking your hands in hers and giving them a gentle squeeze. "I promised to do my best to keep you safe when you first arrived. What kind of friend would I be if I didn't uphold that promise?"

Tears welled in your eyes as you pulled the red-haired maid into a hug. "Thank you," you whispered into her shoulder. She ran her hands soothingly down your back, and you held each other for a long moment.

When you pulled apart, Rae turned to Alice. “Inform your brother. We have another girl to make the journey.”

"Promise me you'll send a letter as soon as you get settled," Rae said, giving your arm a reassuring squeeze. You nodded, sniffling as you tightened the brown cloak around your body. The chill from the hidden hallway was slowly seeping into your tired bones.

"Of course, look for a letter from someone named..." You paused, tilting your head in thought. Then, a giggle escaped your lips. "Miss Ear. It's Rae backwards."

Rae laughed quietly, though Alice remained silent behind her, seemingly lost in her thoughts. Nerves twisted in your stomach as you glanced at the heavy stone door that would allow you to leave the castle undetected. You wished to maintain a lighthearted demeanor for Rae's sake, but deep down, you were terrified.

You feared that your escape would be traced back to Rae and Alice. If Hoseok discovered their involvement, their lives would be in jeopardy. By fleeing, you were placing them in grave danger. Yet, if you remained, you risked your own life—a selfish decision, but one you felt compelled to make.

Should you manage to execute this plan successfully, Rae and Alice would be safe. How could Hoseok possibly prove they had aided in your escape?

You turned to Alice, offering her a grateful smile. "Thank you again," you said sincerely. Without her and her family, you would have nowhere to turn. Alice seemed to barely register your words, lost in thought as she chewed on her lower lip.

You could understand her lack of focus. You were putting her family at risk as well. Turning to Rae one last time, you murmured, "Truly, I am so grateful for all that you have done for me here." You pulled her into a tight embrace, her arms encircling your waist as you heard her sniffle against your chest.

"Be safe out there," she replied, giving you one final squeeze before releasing you. She nodded towards the cloaked man standing by the door, his face concealed. He had remained silent the entire time, but when you looked at him, he shifted slightly.

"Joseph will escort you down the river. He will drop you off at the field just beyond the riverbank, where there should be a horse waiting for you. It belongs to the stables, but she is an old mare, so her disappearance should not cause much distress. Ensure she is fed and allowed to drink from the river regularly, and she should fare well," Rae explained.

"Alright, I'll be sure to take care of her," you said, your fingers brushing against the leather pouch hanging at your side. It contained some of your own supplies, such as dried meats and berries, and a water satchel that you would need to fill after leaving the castle.

Rae took a step back, her eyes damp as she looked you over once more. "It's time for us to go," she said, grasping Alice's hand. The physical contact seemed to break Alice from her haze, and her eyes flickered to meet yours.

"When you arrive in Esteria, go to the house with the green door," she said quietly, her voice holding a strange tone. "Knock three times. When the door opens, repeat what was written on the piece of parchment I gave you."

You nodded, your mind flashing to the short sentence written in an unfamiliar language.

"It’s time," Joseph said, his deep voice startling you. You glanced at him, exhaling a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. You wanted to embrace Rae once more and thank Alice again, but Joseph was right. It was time to go. If you didn't leave now, you would only continue to hesitate.

Rae gave you a small wave, accompanied by a watery smile. Alice simply stared at the ground as you whispered one last farewell before disappearing through the stone door that Joseph had opened for you.

The air outside was frigid, knocking the breath from your lungs. If you had thought it was cold in the stone corridor, the air here was like an icy version of hell. Through the thick, snow-covered trees, you could hear the distant sound of the rushing river that surrounded the castle.

You heard Joseph closing the door behind you as you stared up at the full moon. His boots crunched over the frozen grass as he approached, stopping at your side.

"Ready?" he asked. You could feel his gaze on you, even as you continued to stare at the sky. You wanted to shake your head. Your legs were beginning to tremble, and the weight of your decisions pressed heavily on your heart.

You swallowed and nodded. "Yes."

He made a sound of acknowledgment before beginning the walk into the forest. You followed quietly, staring at your own worn-down boots as you put more and more distance between yourself and the crazed, lovesick prince.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the riverbank, where a rickety old wooden boat sat waiting. A lantern on it flickered to life as Joseph lit it before gently pushing the boat into the water. You stared at it, apprehensive. Light would surely draw attention to your escape.

Sensing your thoughts, Joseph nodded toward the trees. “The river is mostly concealed by the forest. By the time the lantern becomes visible, you’ll be far enough away from the castle.”

You made a sound of acknowledgment as you allowed him to help you into the boat. It wobbled beneath you, and you sat down quickly, fearing you might plunge into the icy water.

Joseph joined you a moment later, picking up a wooden paddle from the boat's floor. The river was calm here, so he had to row the boat himself. The silence was broken only by the sound of Joseph’s quiet grunts as he pushed the boat further and further from the large castle. You did not look back at the massive building as you drifted past the tall, bare trees.

You found yourself shivering as you tried to avoid staring into the darkness for too long. The last thing you needed, especially as you were about to begin your journey alone, was to frighten yourself with imaginary monsters hiding in the shadows.

After what felt like hours of nervously fidgeting and biting your bottom lip, Joseph pulled the oars from the water and placed them back on the boat's floor. You had reached the bend in the river that would lead you in the direction of Esteria.

The pace of the water quickened here, and the boat began to move much faster. The lantern attached to the boat swayed, its light flickering and casting strange shadows against the wood.

You had become so accustomed to the silence that when Joseph spoke, it startled you. You were so tense that you yelped and nearly tipped the boat over. He didn’t seem to mind the disturbance, merely holding the sides of the boat to steady it as he spoke.

"My sister didn’t give me an exact reason as to why you wanted to leave the castle," he murmured. He wasn’t directly asking, but you could tell he was curious. You hesitated to answer. He was helping you escape, yes, but this was no simple case of wanting to get out of a contract or getting involved with a low ranking Lord.

You were now the target of a prince’s affections, a prince who had brutally murdered a lady. Anyone who got in the way was in severe danger. If you told him, would he turn the boat around and force you to go back?

As the trees began to thin, revealing a frostbitten landscape of dead grass and bushes, you sighed softly. It would be rude not to tell him, especially when he was helping you with such a risky escape. He had the right to know exactly why you were running like a dog with its tail between its legs.

"Are you pregnant?" he asked. You whipped your head to face him, your mouth falling open slightly in disbelief. Your worry was temporarily forgotten as you watched the man examine you.

"Do I look pregnant?" you asked, raising an eyebrow. He regarded you silently for a moment, and you quickly covered your mouth, realizing how your response might have sounded.

He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling in a manner reminiscent of Alice’s when she was pleased. "No, you do not appear to be pregnant," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Occasionally, when a nobleman becomes too friendly with a maid, she finds herself…with a child. Typically, she or another maid will come to me for assistance before Sanria learns of the situation. I help them escape."

His voice was gentle and soothing, which eased your nerves somewhat. You tightened your cloak around yourself and nodded slightly. "I understand. It’s kind of you to risk your own safety to help."

Joseph glanced at his hands, worn and calloused from years of labor. "When you are the elder brother to two sisters, you inevitably develop a protective instinct for other young women who remind you of them."

"That’s very noble," you murmured, offering him a small smile. "Aren’t you ever afraid that you might be caught? That you might face severe punishment for your actions?"

He nodded, his expression darkening. "Of course I am. Alice could suffer repercussions for my actions as well. Even worse, my family in Esteria could be in danger if the nobles or even the royals find out about my little scheme. Despite the risks, I believe it is worth it. I save lives. These young women do not deserve the fate they’ve been handed."

Another pang struck your heart, and you nodded. He was putting himself in significant danger to save these girls, to save you. The least you could do was share with him the full reason for your escape.

You swallowed nervously. “I’m leaving because… well, a Prince confessed his love for me,” you muttered. Your heart began to race. Joseph's face went expressionless, and he remained silent for a moment. The only sound around you was the rush of blood in your ears.

Then, a look of alarm and dread quickly overtook his features. “What?” he asked, his eyes even darker than before. His face had turned noticeably paler. Had it been a mistake to tell him?

“A prince cornered me earlier,” you said quietly, staring at your lap. “And he confessed his love for me.”

“Why?” was all he managed to ask. His foot knocked against the oar on the floor of the boat, and you wondered if he was tempted to turn the small vessel around. You prayed to whatever God that lived in the sky that he wouldn't.

“I don’t know,” you breathed, shaking your head. You looked up at him, frowning. “We had only spoken twice before his confession. He said it was love at first sight.”

Joseph turned away, seemingly at a loss for words. Did he believe you, or did he think you were fabricating an elaborate lie? Would he return you to the castle, or would he continue down the river?

From his reaction, it was clear that this was an unprecedented situation for him. The uncertainty only heightened your own anxiety. If no other maid had faced such a predicament—at least not one that attempted to flee—did that mean Hoseok’s feelings were genuine? How could he have developed such intense emotions so swiftly?

Joseph rubbed his face roughly. “Which prince was it?” he asked, his voice heavy with fatigue. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of shame at his reaction. You were a burden, an unexpected complication that he likely didn’t want to deal with.

“Hoseok,” you replied quietly. His head jerked up, his mouth falling open in disbelief. He repeated the name twice, his voice rising in volume. Your eyes widened. While you had not been expecting an excited reaction, you had hoped that he would have been a little more understanding than this.

“Shit,” Joseph huffed, his frustration palpable as he picked up the oar. Your heart dropped for a moment as he dipped it back into the freezing water. “Of all the princes, why did it have to be Hoseok?” he groaned. “This is exceedingly dangerous.” Then, he began to push the boat faster down the river.

You buried your face in your hands, a sigh escaping your lips. “I know,” you whimpered, tears threatening to spill. “I don’t understand why this is happening. If I had known that coming here would endanger so many people, I would have stayed in my small village.”

Joseph shook his head. “You’re incredibly fortunate that Rae arranged for you to leave so quickly,” he said, fixing you with a stern look. “That Prince... he may appear kind on the surface, but his heart is dark.”

“Do you think he’ll realize that Alice and Rae were involved in my escape? Do you think he’ll even care after a few days?” you asked, shaking.

Joseph hesitated for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh. “Hoseok is an obsessive man,” he said gravely. “If he sets his sights on something, he will stop at nothing to obtain it. Had you stayed at the castle, he would have made you his in no time.”

The rocky shore was drawing closer, signaling the end of the first leg of your escape. “Listen carefully,” Joseph instructed, removing the oar from the water again. The boat began to drift toward the shore on it’s own as the waves of the river grew softer and slower.

“You are not to leave Esteria,” Joseph instructed firmly. “No matter how much time passes, you must stay hidden. Hoseok will never stop searching for you. He possesses a dark soul. Your only chance of safety is to remain concealed. Do not return to the castle.”

The boat gently bumped against a large stone, rocking slightly before coming to a halt. Joseph climbed out onto the rocky ground and helped you onto the shore.

“For your own safety and that of those you care about, you must be exceedingly cautious with your decisions from now on.” He said his voice soft. “You will be okay if you can manage to stay quiet and hidden.”

You nodded, your voice hoarse as you murmured, “I understand. If anything happens, please don’t hesitate to turn me in. I would prefer being returned to the castle if it means ensuring your safety, as well as Alice’s and Rae’s.”

Joseph averted his gaze, conflicted between agreeing with your request and arguing against it. The silence was broken by the distant sound of a horse neighing.

You turned swiftly toward the noise, surprised to find the old brown mare tethered to a thin tree nearby. You hadn’t noticed her when you arrived at the shore.

Seeing this as your cue, you moved towards the horse, eyeing the small packs that sat by its side. Joseph followed close behind, his boots crunching over the small rocks and dead grass.

“After a day’s worth of travel, you should come to a fork in the path. You’ll have to go to the left, away from the water. That means you need to take as much water as you can before reaching that fork.” He said, loading the small packs onto the horse.

“After another half-day’s journey, you’ll encounter another fork. This time, veer to the right. Continue straight until you reach the village. You’ll know you’re approaching when you see smoke rising from chimneys,” he finished.

“Understood,” you murmured, committing the directions to memory. “Follow the river for a day, then turn left at the fork. Walk for another half-day, turn right at the next fork, and look for smoke.”

Joseph nodded with a reassuring smile. “Exactly. And... be safe,” he added quietly. He then assisted you as you climbed onto the back of the mare. “I’ll have Alice make sure you’re mentioned in her next letter home.”

You attempted to smile at him, but it faltered, unable to mask the concern and sadness you felt. Before you could utter a final farewell, Joseph gave the horse a firm slap on the rear. The mare whinnied and surged forward.

Caught off guard, you had no opportunity to look back as you focused on steadying yourself. It took a few moments, but you eventually managed to regain your balance and guide the horse to a more controlled pace.

As you traveled down the old path, you silently prayed to any higher power that things would turn out well. There were more lives at stake than just your own, and you feared you would struggle to live with yourself if anything were to happen to those who had helped you.

[kami-kun1003]

this is based off an AU i have where Silver is a lot more paranoid and dishonest, but learned to hide it behind his peaceful mask of the soft spoken boy we all know and love. basically Silver if Disney had made him a villain like the other characters but he’s still not quite as bad

i kinda just wrote all this in one go so excuse any poor writing

~~~

There were so many people here.

Silver breathed in for seven seconds, allowing the air to fill his lungs, then let it out slowly.

He’d never seen so many individuals before in his entire life. Hundreds of students standing in one massive room, all wearing the same dark ceremonial robes.

Despite his attempts to remain calm, his heart stubbornly refused to cease its rapid beating. He’d always been taught to be wary of strangers; you never knew which one could be a foe.

And now he was surrounded by them.

Potential threats were everywhere. Someone could be lurking in that shadow, waiting for the opportune moment to strike. That person over there looked fidgety— was he armed with a hidden blade?

Silver’s eyes darted around as his anxieties grew. How had Father and Malleus been fine for an entire year without him and Sebek to protect them? He knew not to underestimate their abilities, but you could never be too cautious in a place like this.

His breathing grew erratic as the world seemed almost dreamlike. He couldn’t stop the paranoia from overtaking his mind.

An arm bumped into him. He whipped his head around, ready to defend himself against whoever the assailant was, only to realize it was Lilia.

“Oops, my apologies, Silver.” The fae smiled cheerfully at him. “Isn’t this exciting?”

He wanted to argue that it was anything but exciting. That it was terrifying, and he was overwhelmed and wished to leave.

But of course he couldn’t. So instead, he forced his muscles to relax and returned the smile. “Yes, I’ve been quite enjoying myself.” The lie rolled easily off his tongue. “I’m looking forward to being sorted. I hope the Dark Mirror finds me suitable for Diasomnia so that I may be at your and Malleus’s side.”

Only the last sentence was true. He despised the idea of walking up there for everyone to see him with his back turned. What would they think? What if they found him weak? What if something happened while he was away? He wasn’t sure he could get to Lilia or Malleus in time if an assassin were to take advantage of him being on the other side of the room.

“Soothe your nerves, there is nothing to be afraid of.” As though reading his thoughts, his father attempted to reassure him. “It’s only natural to be nervous, but I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

But you might not be. Silver held back a sigh and merely nodded.

“Trust me, Silver.” Lilia chuckled behind a hand. “You’re always so worried over us. It’s truly endearing.”

There it was again; talking down on him like he was just being a silly, overdramatic child. Silver deeply hated that, and wouldn’t take it from anyone but his father.

“Right. I’m sorry— I’ll try to compose myself better.” He responded with his usual expressionless face.

“That’s the spirit.” Seeing Lilia’s joyous grin was almost enough to wash away his fears. “I believe it’s nearly your turn. Don’t panic, now.” His tone was light and teasing, as though oblivious to how likely it was for that to actually happen.

“I won’t.” Silver dearly hoped his words wouldn’t turn out another lie. “I’m not that scared, old man…”

“Really? I noticed you looked rather unsettled for a while.” His father pointed out, always the observant fae. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine.” It took some effort to keep his voice calm. “I greatly appreciate your concern, but there’s no need to worry about me.”

“Well, if you say so.” Lilia shrugged, and turned his attention onto the current student being sorted into Octavinelle.

Silver wasn’t sure what he’d do if he was put into anywhere aside from Diasomnia. Request a dorm transfer, perhaps, no matter how tedious the process was.

He wouldn’t allow anything to stand in the way between him and his duty as a bodyguard. Not seperate dorms, not the other students, not his own sleepiness.

He was theirs, forever and ever.

[onmywaytofanfic]

IBIKI MORINO HEADCANNONS

So here I introduce to you some of my HC for Ibiki Morino in my new fic in which I will explore this generation a little bit more using Ibiki Morino and his wife. I need to thank @yamanaka-shin for actually encouraging me into exploring this idea. It helped me creating a new OC that I am head over heals for her and everything surrounding this couple. I just hope that you like it, and apologising for jumping into a new OC and fic with my main OC, Reina, beeing so underdeveloped. I hope to change that and keep tracking of both of them and evolving as a writer and drawer(?) maybe.

Hope you like it:

Ibiki in my story is actually a trans-man. Unfortunately, you are going to hear his dead-name a lot, Amhya Kudo, because of the B*** of his mother.

He named himself Ibiki Morino, he is the head and the founder of the Morino clan, since his father did not have a clan and he completely rejected his mother’s clan.

His mother had two children, him and Idate Kudo. Both were born because his mother’s father forced her to have children through which pass down the family lineage. Because Ibiki was assigned female at birth, he would not be suitable to be the next head of the clan, instead it would be  Idate. 

Idate would reject his mother’s clan too and escape to the Tea country as means of eluding her imposition of being the next head.

When someone talks about the “Kudo’s downfall” it is because they started to produce less and less boys and more girls. Some tongues speak about them killing their own little girls and force their women to have more children waiting and hoping for boys. Right now the only known biologically born male known is Idate and he has deserted from the clan. It has been condemned to extinction due to their radical and unsettling values that have not evolved nor progressed regardless of the time that has passed. 

When Ibiki made his own clan it was accepted by the third, even though it did not fulfill the requirements of a minimum of members. That was granted to Ibiki due to his efforts against Kirigakure. (Where he confronted Kisame).

 His mother, Shun Kudo, would became a rogue nin, when after all his tryings to shut down and destroy her son led her to commit treason and be in cohorts with Tamiko Yamanada (EIko’s mother) famous for been a counterfeiter and a phony. Ibiki would be in charge of looking for her.

Shun Kudo was the leader of the interrogation and torture department, Inoichi appointed him as the head of that department from the beginning.. Inoichi never wanted that position so he was more like an adviser to the leader of the department.

Kudo’s clan was famous for their torture techniques.

Kudo’s clan was originally a subordinate of the Yamanaka’s, Inoichi after many things that happened with Shun he decided to break that connection among clans and instead he decided that her son’s new clan would be the perfect substitution of them. 

Ibiki’s favorite form to spend an afternoon is with a cold beer, a good movie or book and just be relaxed there. He also likes to prepare a small BBQ for himself.

His flat is quite small, it has a living room with a small kitchen, a bathroom and a small bedroom. He has always wanted a home big enough for him to have a dog. 

He has a very minimalistic lifestyle, his wife changes that, although not too drastically.

When he dresses up to go out with his civilian clothes they look very gothic in style.

Actually is a good dancer, but doesn’t show it too often.

He is also a great chef.

Later in life he discovers videogames and he does enjoy them a lot. He is a good gamer, a secret good gamer.

He is pansexual, however he has only been romantically involved with Eiko.

He had a flinch with Anko, they are great friends right now. She was the one that named his disease “First love headache”. From that moment Ibiki knew that he needed to find Eiko to settle things with his own heart so he could move on, either with her or without her. Anko has actually helped him a lot, especially once Ibiki’s love was corresponded by Eiko. 

One thing has been discovered, her name is Eiko Yamanada Morino

[fatecanberewritten-writer]

A Stranger with a Familiar Face | Chapter One: To Start Anew

Stars Series | A Stranger with a Familiar Face

It was a gray day in Paris, rain threatening emptily to fall from the dreary clouds. He’d hoped for the sweet smell of fresh rain on the pavement, the dainty fragrance of flowers the market nearby was selling, or, most fittingly, the intoxicating scent of freshly baked bread - but all that met his nose was garbage and dirty gutters. It, surprisingly, had him missing New York, and Gellert Grindelwald was quite certain that nothing would make him miss New York.

With a sigh that went unnoticed by his Acolytes, Grindelwald glanced pensively around the street Rosier had recommended. The neighborhood, centrally located in the Boulevard Haussmann Les Grand Magasins De Paris, was wealthy enough to impress Purebloods interested in the cause, yet unimportant enough to remain under the radar. Blood thirsty as she was, Vinda Rosier was proving to be a valuable asset. 

Sauntering down the mildly busy street, the hungry eyes of his Acolytes watched him, patiently awaiting his decision. The man took his time, reveling in his returned power, reveling in being in his own skin once more. After such a significant drawback in America, Grindelwald was finally feeling like his former self, finally feeling like he was back on track. His heterochromatic, all-knowing eyes settled on a particularly fine house in the middle of the lane, and he gently tilted the end of his cane towards it. His Acolytes descended on it like a pack of wolves.

As if conjured, a hearse drawn by two black horses turned the corner, drove coachmanless down the cobbled street, and settled in front of the chosen apartment. Grindelwald stood alone beside it, watching the street, waiting patiently. Two green flashes came from the windows above. Not a soul looked up.

Grindelwald hardly stirred as the door reopened. Nagel and Krafft emerged, each holding one end of a sleek black coffin, Krall and MacDuff following along with a second. He watched on with hardly a trace of emotion on his face, not daring to show any pleasure in the Muggles’ deaths. This was a necessary evil. The hearse continued down the street, and Grindelwald led his followers back inside the now vacant apartment.

“Yes,” Grindelwald mused, walking from room to room in surveyance. The couple had been well off - old money, most likely - and their home would be very enticing to Purebloods, once they de-Muggled it. “This will be suitable after a thorough cleanse.” His eyes traveled to each of his companions as they made themselves comfortable in the apartment. They settled on Nagel, who stood at attention as their gazes met. “I want you to go to the circus now,” he ordered gently, stepping closer to the dark-skinned man. “Give my note to Credence, begin his journey.”

Nagel nodded, leaving the apartment. Thoughts of Credence Barebone replace his presence.

“When we’ve won,” started Rosier, filling the unsettled silence and pulling Grindelwald from his calculative thoughts, “they’ll flee cities in the millions. They’ve had their time.”

“We don’t say such things out loud,” Grindelwald quickly intervened, stopping the supportive smirks before they got out of hand. Their supremacy was a dangerous ideology, one that could easily turn potential allies against them. “We want only freedom,” he preached. “Freedom to be ourselves.”

Rosier watched him with a pensive respect. “To annihilate non-wizards,” she added.

“Not all of them, not all,” he assured, his eyes finding Abernathy’s for a moment. “We’re not merciless.” 

The American wizard was the only one among them that was not Pureblood - in fact, he was quite the opposite. Born to two No-Majes in Upstate New York, Ulric Abernathy had always been torn between two worlds. While more easily accepted into Wizarding society than most other places, namely Britain, Muggleborns in America faced their own challenges set in place by MACUSA’s strict secrecy laws - once they are old enough to control their magic, all trace of magic is erased from their non-magical family’s memory. Since he was eleven, Ulric has had to juggle two separate identities, hiding the biggest part of him from those who had raised him. The assurance of his family’s safety had been the biggest factor in convincing him to join the cause. 

Grindelwald’s gaze flitted back to the others, easily picking up on the air of confusion surrounding the Purebloods. “The beast of burden will always be necessary,” he concluded, and all parties looked satisfied.

A soft cooing close at hand caused everyone in the room to stiffen. The Acolytes tried not to catch their leader’s eye, fearing punishment for not having cleared the apartment completely, but Grindelwald looked only towards the closed door at the far end of the room - a nursery.

He felt an all too familiar prickling on his skin, as though struck with a sudden chill, and though they did not know it, he would not be punishing any of his careless Acolytes. It seemed as though they had stumbled into a happy accident, though Grindelwald wondered if it was an accident at all. He took a deep breath as he started towards the room, preparing for the moment of judgment he knew to come.

The child made not a sound as Grindelwald gently pushed open the door. Carrow, a woman more prejudiced towards Muggles and Muggleborns than anyone else in the room, followed closely, poorly hiding the excited look in her eyes. She knew that if Grindelwald decided to do away with this spawn of dirt, he would turn to her, and she would oblige all too gladly. She felt her confidence growing as the child looked up at her fearfully.

But yet, as Grindelwald crouched before the young boy, the hardly-year-old child looked into his mismatched eyes with nothing but curiosity. Everyone in the room held their breath.

Grindelwald watched the boy for a long time, attempting to manipulate his abilities as a seer to look into this boy’s future, though he knew that’s not how his abilities worked. Surely there was something, he told himself. He would not have gotten that chill if there was not. He would not have chosen this home.

The child’s wide blue eyes stared back into the man’s heterochromatic eyes, and slowly, gradually, his left eye, only his left, darkened from a soft blue to a dark, dark brown, mirroring the man before him. A grin broke out on Grindelwald’s face.

“He is a wizard,” Grindelwald announced, rising.

Carrow’s smile fell into a sneer, and she pulled out her wand as if she’d been ordered. “Then he is a Mudblood,” she hissed, sizing up the child, “and he deserves to die.”

From the back of the group, Abernathy lunged forward, MacDuff’s reflexive grip on his wrist being the only thing that kept the Muggleborn from drawing his wand. Carrow cowered slightly in shock. She knew, of course, of his blood status, but the reserved man had never before reacted like this to her blatant and repetitive degrading of his kind. She’d never thought he had it in him, but the look in his eyes now was almost murderous.

In the midst of the action, Grindelwald had bent down to retrieve the child, with whom he now stood strongly. His face was hardened and dark, and while not quite as murderous as Abernanthy’s, it set fear in Carrow’s bones as she turned back to face him. “We do not speak that way of our own,” his voice boomed, drawing all eyes back to him.

Carrow’s voice was much quieter, much less confident as she next spoke: “Our own?”

Grindelwald’s eyes narrowed. “Is he not a wizard? Is not Abernathy?”

The witch was blinking rapidly, stumbling over her words. “Yes - yes but - ”

“But nothing,” Grindelwald countered almost calmly. “You will remember your place, Carrow, or you will be reminded of it.” Carrow watched him in shock, frozen, unsure of how to proceed. Grindelwald spoke again before she could form a decisive thought. “I think it is best if you leave for now. Return only when you remember the Greater Good that we are fighting for.”

After a moment of processing his words, Carrow backed away from him, hastening out of the room, taking the path as far from Abernathy as she could. Grindelwald surveyed the room as she departed, watching the reactions of his followers to determine which of them would favor her ideals to his. His eyes lingered on Rosier, but she watched him only with devotion.

Finally, his eyes met Abernathy’s, and he ushered him forward. With no hesitance, the American wove his way through the group and stood strongly before his master. The child sat on Grindelwald’s hip like a christened prince, one sure to inherit the entire world. “Sir?” said Abernathy.

“As the one among us who will most closely relate to the child, I will leave him in your care,” Grindelwald declared. “You will raise him, I will teach him, and when he is old enough, he will join our ranks. I have no doubt that he will be a valuable asset, as you are, Abernathy.”

Abernathy took a moment to respond, but eventually he nodded. He had not considered fatherhood in a long time, not since he had to break the heart of the No-Maj he had been in love with even before he knew he was a wizard. But, as Grindelwald placed the recently orphaned child in his arms, he took on the responsibility as swiftly as he would take any of Grindelwald’s orders.

“What will we call him?” Rosier piped in, and as she did, Abernathy was reminded that he would not be raising this child entirely on his own. The weight on his shoulders lessened a little.

In response, Grindelwald looked deeply into the child’s mind, using legilimency to sort through the fading and undeveloped thoughts of a toddler. After a moment of silence, he emerged with an answer. “Alderic Beaufort.”

Rosier’s eyebrows furrowed. “Alderic Beaufort?” she repeated slowly.

Grindelwald nodded. “It was the name his parents gave him, and it is the name he will keep.”

“Forgive me,” Rosier started again, and Grindelwald considered her with patience, though many others in the room were beginning to lose theirs. “If he is to start anew with us, would it not be fitting if he were to have a new name as well? Perhaps your name,” she offered, then with a glance at Abernathy, quickly added, “or Abernathy’s.”

Grindelwald chuckled at the flatterence, stepping closer to the child in Abernathy’s arms, watching him as he responded to Rosier. “It matters not what he is born or thrust into, it matters only what he chooses to become. And we can only hope that, like us, little Alderic will choose the Greater Good.”

[anjumbai]

Officer K.

Movie: Blade Runner 2049 IMDB: 8 Director: Denis Villeneuve Adapted From: Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Phillip K. Dick

Contains Spoilers "I'm officer K. I am a replicant and I follow the orders of my higher ups without hesitation. I'm not a biological human. I was designed by humans to follow the orders of humans. I don't disobey them, no matter how harshly I get treated for being a replicant. My predecessors tried to be different, they tried to have a free will. How big of a sin that is. So now, I hunt them down. I'm a blade runner, and I guess this is how my life is supposed to have meaning." Officer K didn't have a monologue. It's just something I imagined him to have to pass through the dystopian society of Bladerunner 2049. It's a megacity with huge infrastructures, technology at its finest, every hedonistic activity you could possibly ask for. But Officer K does not fit in this city, he doesn't even look like he wants to be there. He is the "literally me" character, an embodiment of just one of the lonely people in Los Angeles. He follows orders because there is nothing else for him here. He also has an AI generated holographic girlfriend, who is basically designed to do nothing but love him. It's a life filled with lies, and he just wants to find a truth for him, a truth that would give him meaning.

The movie starts with a scene of Officer K shutting an old free willed replicant down. By shutting down I mean killing him. It's his job. But as the replicant is about to die, it tells Officer K something really unsettling. "Because you've never seen a miracle." This sentence makes Officer K think, it makes him feel something. He later on finds a yellow flower, a flower- something nonexistent in the society of blade runner. This flower may let him find something close to a truth. He finds a crate underneath the flower, which is actually a woman's body. The people in officer K's department think that maybe the replicant murdered her, and then buried her. But after some time, they realized that she died during childbirth. And even more shocking, it wasn't a human woman. It was a replicant. A replicant capable of giving birth.

The movie does a fantastic job of setting up the urge to find the truth for Officer K. His eyes seem dead, but Ryan Gosling does a perfect job in speaking with only his eyes. This movie was really atmospheric, and it wasn't the dialogues that made the movie amazing, it was the silence. It was the eyes that spoke volumes without inching a single word. The amazing soundtrack perfectly suitable for the dystopian society just made the atmosphere even better.

Now that replicants are capable of giving birth and Officer K knew it, he was ordered to kill the child as it can cause a havoc in the real world. Replicants aren't supposed to give birth, or feel happy, or even spend time in stuff that gives meaning to life. Nah, that's another sin. Officer K took the orders, but you can see it in his eyes that he isn't after the child, he was after the truth. What if he was the child?

Replicants are engineered humans with implanted memories, and while every memory they have is also engineered by someone else, officer K had one that just felt different. It felt real. He considered the chance to be someone who was born, not created by somebody else. He sees hope, he finds meaning to his life. He believed that he was special.

But through a series of unfortunate events, he finds out that he wasn't special. He was just unfortunate enough to be implanted with somebody else's real memories. The foundation of meaning, the foundation of something hopeful that he was able to build- all shattered through a short series of events. Officer K was just- us. A terribly lonely man, he tried to cope up with his loneliness through an AI generated girlfriend. How comedic yet tragic that is. It's just like what we do, we get lonely and before we know it we start hovering through sites we shouldn't hover through. It's all a lie. It's all build upon lies, and that's basically how officer K has lived his entire life.

But hold on, that shouldn't be it, right? It wasn't. Officer K, in the end, decided that he won't be shackled to following orders or being lonely. He tried to find a meaning to life. Was he able to do it? Maybe. Otherwise, why would he be the embodiment of a "literally me" character? None of us want to be lonely. It's only when we see somebody break the shackles of loneliness and be free is when we wanna say "he's literally me". We do our best with whatever we're given. We're all replicants for most of our lives, but it's when we decide to be something more than that that we can be something we can be proud of. Something we can be happy about. To every officer K in the world, you aren't officer K cause you're lonely and have no meaning of life. You're officer K because you know there's something better than that out there and you are ready to do everything to get that.

[madeofspite-and-memes]

little crow pt.2

I had to continue it idek why. this is from the rebels pov now. first part linked at the end.

tw: blood, bruises, broken bones, restraints, violence, death of a loved one, mild dehumanisation at the end, suicidal ideation, lady whumpee, could be considered intimate whumper?? idk

the rebel was no Stanger to blows. she was remarkably familiar with them actually. but this was different. bound like this she couldn't punch him back as her closing fists ached to. adrenaline buzzed under her skin, anticipating a fight. but she could do nothing to defend herself. so settled for annoying him. she made sure to work up a suitably disgusting blob of blood and saliva to spit at him, his smirking face to be precise. before conjuring a smile so savage, dripping with the blood pooling in her mouth, baring her teeth like fangs, eyes bright with inhumane rage, she hoped it could unsettle him as much as he unsettled her.

his face said it all. the disgust or even the discomfort as he registered her grin was nothing compared to his...relief? definitely relief. his features undeniably relaxed as he saw this was her only act of rebellion, all she would do was spit at him. he had feared more. so she laughed, loudly and abruptly. it may have seemed unhinged to those not understanding the joke.

"you look utterly terrified! what do you fear? I would snap my chains and reveal I was playing you? to be captured and have everyone I love killed was a part of my ingenious scheme all along? I have fooled you one final time? do you fear, even now, bound as I am at your feet, that I will burn you and your empire with my righteous flames? do I scare you?" the taunts fly with well earned confidence but his face is all she needs to see. because if only for a second, she saw it, this is exactly what he feared from her. then it was gone.

"arrogant. to say the least. scrap of a thing like you could never scare me..."

"I doubt my size will matter when I behead you, but continue" she interrupted gleefully. then she saw it, the composure in his eyes snapping, his jaw locking just a bit too tightly. she knew that look to well. maybe she'd get lucky, maybe he would kill her in a fit of rage.

"you don't have the best survival instincts do you sweetheart? unfortunate quality for a girl who made herself so utterly inextricable from her rebellion, from my demise. all those others were so disposable, no saviours, no potential martyrs among them, no, the only one worth my time was you. not your friends, not your allies, not your shitty little girlfriend, no I was glad to kill her..."

that was enough. she barely registered surging to her bound feet, somehow blessedly dodging the confounded guards, no, the only thing she register was the delighted swirl in her stomach as she saw the monsters face pale as she charged at him like a bull.

the fight, unsurprisingly, didn't actually last long. the guards weren't even necessary, bound and unarmed as she was. once they toppled over, down to the plush carpeted ground, she was quickly pinned by the monster. her attempts to headbutt him were admirable at best, pitiful at worst. with her wrists already bound his fists were free to pelt and beat her as he wished. maybe someone else would have been crying, begging, whimpering, god knows what. but she screamed. she screamed like a banshee, she screamed every curse or insult she knew, she screamed every gory threat her mind could conjure, she screamed the names of every comrade he killed, swearing vengeance.

then, apparently, he was no longer amused by it. she tried to bite his hands as they wrapped around her throat, squeezing until no sound emerge any longer, then left them there, watching her wheeze. not stealing her breath but shortening it. she cringed slightly at the glee in his face, devouring her wide blown eyes, shallow little gasping breaths, eyes gnawing on every cut and bruise, every drop of blood running down her face like thick tears.

"quiet now before you loose you voice" every guard in the room would say he sounded predatory, she knew he felt victorious, beating her, even in her current state, was a great triumph, because she was dangerous, she had to be, its why she was still alive, "your absolutely feral, clever, sure, cunning, absolutely, but you can't control yourself, like a filthy wild animal. a little crow. my little crow now." he had drawn uncomfortably closer for the last part, so she drove her head up into his nose. the kings nose collapsed sideways against his face, gushing blood down onto her until she would have sworn she was drowning in it. it wasn't enough. she could bleed him dry of every drop of blood in him, it would never be enough to avenge her country, her comrades, her allies, her girlfriend, herself. she knew for every ounce she took of his blood he would take a gallon of hers. no, a broken nose was nowhere near enough.

but it was a start.

I think that's a link to the first part idk I am clueless sorry.

[kanisema-blog]

Operation: True Love (?)

Chapter 8

I sat at my small kitchen table, eating a simple breakfast of toast and scrambled eggs. The events of the past few days played on a loop in my mind, and I found it hard to concentrate on anything else. The connection between Kiko and me was undeniable, but the uncertainty of our situation left me feeling unsettled. Today, I was meeting him at the softball field, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would bring.

After finishing breakfast, I got ready for the day, opting for comfortable yet casual clothes suitable for the field. I grabbed my bag and headed out, my thoughts still lingering on Kiko and our recent interactions.

The softball field was bustling with activity when I arrived. I spotted Kiko almost immediately; he was in the middle of a game, laughing and joking with his teammates. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, and I took a deep breath to steady myself.

As I walked closer, I noticed a girl playing alongside him. She seemed particularly attentive to Kiko, her eyes following his every move with a certain longing that I recognized all too well. Despite her obvious feelings, Kiko seemed oblivious, focused on the game and the fun he was having.

Kiko spotted me standing by the sidelines and waved enthusiastically. He jogged over, a big smile on his face.

"Hey, Miranda!" he greeted, slightly out of breath but clearly happy to see me. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Hi, Kiko," I replied, trying to match his enthusiasm. "You look like you're having fun."

"Yeah, it's been great. I want you to meet someone," he said, turning to call the girl over. "Jeya, come here for a second!"

The girl jogged over, her smile faltering slightly when she saw me standing next to Kiko. He introduced us with the same friendliness he always showed.

"Jeya, this is Miranda, an old friend of mine. Miranda, this is Jeya," Kiko said, gesturing between us.

"Nice to meet you, Miranda," Jeya said, her tone polite but curious. "I've never heard Kiko mention you before."

"Nice to meet you too, Jeya," I replied, forcing a smile. "We go way back."

Jeya nodded, glancing at Kiko with an expression I couldn't quite read. "Well, I should get back to the game," she said, giving Kiko a meaningful look before jogging back to the field.

I watched her go, feeling a mix of emotions. It was clear she had feelings for Kiko, and seeing her made me realize just how complicated things were.

Kiko turned to me, his expression apologetic. "Sorry, I didn't mean to make things awkward. Jeya is a great player and a good friend."

"It's okay, Kiko," I said, shaking my head. "I understand. You have a lot of friends."

He nodded, looking relieved. "Thanks for understanding. Do you want to watch the game? It's almost over."

"Sure," I said, following him to the bleachers.

We sat down, and I watched as Kiko rejoined the game. Despite everything, it was hard not to be drawn in by his energy and enthusiasm. The way he moved, the way he laughed—it all brought back memories of happier times.

As the game ended and the players dispersed, Kiko came back to sit next to me. "So, what did you think?" he asked, still catching his breath.

"It was fun to watch," I said honestly. "You’re really good out there."

"Thanks," he said, smiling. "I'm glad you came."

There was a moment of silence between us, and I felt the weight of all the unspoken words. Finally, I broke the silence.

"Kiko, I appreciate you inviting me today," I said softly. "But I can't help but feel like there's a lot we haven't talked about."

He looked at me, his expression serious. "I know, Miranda. There's a lot we need to figure out. But right now, I'm just glad we're spending time together again."

I nodded, feeling a lump in my throat. "Me too."

We sat there for a while longer, watching as the field emptied. Eventually, Kiko stood up and offered me his hand. "Come on, let me walk you to your car."

I took his hand and let him lead me. As we walked, I couldn't help but feel a mix of hope and uncertainty. The future was still unclear, but for now, I was willing to take things one step at a time.

When we reached my car, Kiko turned to me, his eyes searching mine. "Miranda, I want us to keep doing this. Spending time together, reconnecting. Is that okay with you?"

I nodded, my heart aching with a mixture of emotions. "Yes, Kiko. That's okay with me."

He smiled, and for a moment, it felt like everything might just work out. But I knew better than to get my hopes up too high. There was still so much we needed to work through.

As I drove away, I glanced back at Kiko standing in the parking lot. I couldn't help but wonder what the future held for us. But for now, I would focus on the present, and the small steps we were taking towards something more.

The road ahead was uncertain, but I was willing to see where it would lead.

[skyfireflight-writes]

Letters from the Forest

XIV

Dear Anna,

I am now certain that we are seeing the same cat, and it is definitely stalking us. As I was keeping watch last night, I heard an extremely quiet rustle in the foliage a few yards from our camp. I doubt I would have heard it at all if it had not been for how still that part of the forest was at the time. In the direction of the rustle, I saw two gleaming eyes gazing right at me. It was unsettling, to say the least. A large blue cat had lay down in the brush and appeared to be just watching us, not making any move to come closer.

The moonlight was bright enough that I could make out some of the cat’s features, and I saw the same ones that I noticed before and relayed to you in my previous letter: a long scar across its side, the exact same pattern of spots in its fur; it also appeared to be the same size. And one feature I had seen repeatedly but did not mention to you: it has a strange, distinctive fold near the point of its right ear.

I dared not move as it kept its eyes on me, and I debated whether or not to wake Adiel and alert him, or let him sleep until it was time for his watch. But it didn’t move either, just lay its head down on one of its forelegs and watched us. It dozed for a time, though even then I dared not take my eyes off it. In the end, I did wake Adiel a bit earlier than originally planned, but he was understanding and agreed that I was right to do so. I stayed up with him for a time, but the cat still did not move, though it never seemed to fall asleep.

We debated – quietly, of course – on whether to leave and sleep elsewhere, or stay where we were until morning. Given how the trees themselves had once again woven themselves to secure a place for us, the possibility that we may not find a safer place tonight and run into danger in the dark, and the near certain futility of truly evading the cat if it kept stalking us, we decided to stay put. Though it took me some time, I finally did get to sleep during Adiel’s watch – with his assurance that he would be fine and would wake me if necessary, of course! Don’t think I’m a bad friend and just left him alone with a predator.

Thankfully, when he awoke me in the morning, the cat had not made any move to attack us, and we both greeted the morning in one piece. That said, the cat is still following us – it is staring at me as I speak. Adiel and I both think it is trying to assess if we might be suitable prey for it. We doubt it is simply curiosity for a new being in its environment. I do hope it decides in the negative.

One more thing – we encountered a tree with large, round, soft-looking red fruits. It looked similar to the nectarines we have back home, but still distinct. The tree seemed to want us to eat its fruit, as when we got close, it lowered one of its branches in front of us and waved it slightly, as if to encourage us to take it. However, we remembered the poisonous and carnivorous tree we saw before, so Adiel and I quickly decided against eating the fruit. We still have enough of our own food left, and we did not want to risk being poisoned.

My hand is cramping, and I should get a move on and pay more attention to my surroundings. Until my next letter.

Signed -----

[First] [Previous] [Next]

[more-than-a-princess]

They were friends, or so their mutual teasing indicated. She wouldn't have pressed her luck with a nickname he despised if she didn't trust him not to turn his gang on her family, and he wouldn't have reciprocated in kind if he still found her to be a danger to his own. Formalities didn't suit him, of that much Sonia was sure: but how would he fare in the yakuza otherwise? There were only three paths out of street gangs, or so she'd observed: joining the rest of society and obtaining a real job or education, joining the yakuza, or the third option she didn't want to think about. The option that had led him to Hope's Peak and her company in the first place, his friend's demise. Unless he sought employment and set his gang aside, she felt he'd have to face formalities one day. And Mikey, Sonia thought, did not make for a suitable foot soldier in any family: he'd have to lead or, she felt, he'd be discontent. She'd known the boy for only hours and yet that was enough to discern that leadership was natural to him and anything else would leave him unsettled.

More unsettled than a haunted ride, to be sure. Though Sonia preferred the haunts. "A few of them, yes," She confirmed with a smile, far more dreamy and content than most would be when meeting ghosts. She was hardly ever allowed to be so whimsical, or even so cheerful in public. Soft and knowing smiles were allowed under the right circumstances, but showing her passions and therefore her weaknesses...her mother worked so hard to shut them away. It made the entire Borghese Family vulnerable, her passions. And yet she clenched her fists around them and refused to let them go, like a child with a favored blanket. Comfortable yes, but also what she needed to keep a hold of her sanity most of the time. "They possess fascinating stories paired with the ability to make you so very aware of your limited mortality. But that is a benefit of traveling, I think: finding more places that give you inspiration, and people who understand you when you feel alone. Though when you are dancing, you are never alone."

Something Mikey hadn't appreciated, at least where her comfort where the clowns were concerned. Sonia frowned: she'd only been trying to help. If his gang likely didn't fear his feet knocking out several of their permanent teeth, she assumed a bit of teasing around his fear would be warranted. "I imagine a spiteful, vengeful ghost abandoned her," She suggested, half-listening to the story in order to carry on their conversation. Strangely enough, it was more interesting than the ride's lore and she could always ride it again. She likely would, if the clowns wouldn't faze him a second time. "Maybe it is simply too romantic to fathom, if the ghost in question never loved her in the first place and only wanted her for power and control. I see enough of that in real life, who is to say it would not carry into the undead? Nevertheless, it still looks like fun, heartbreak aside. Spending my years haunting somewhere or someone sounds far more preferable than crossing over into the afterlife!"

If only because the afterlife, as she knew it in her family's Catholicism, seemed rather dull in comparison to Limbo, or even Hell itself. She'd read The Divine Comedy as soon as she was able to get her hands on it as a child, alongside plenty of other reading material inappropriate for children.

She followed Mikey off the ride: she'd been first to get on and therefore last to disembark. The walk back out into the sunlight was jarring, both in brightness and heat. "Sure, let us try the...what is it," Sonia paused to glance at the map. "Splash Mountain! A depiction of 19th Century Rural America apparently, based on a 20th Century film. Well, it shall cool us off at least." That, and the drop looked fun. The American West area of the park wasn't too far away and she could see the tan-colored mountain in the distance, and the riders who cried out as their logs began their descent.

But Sonia's smile faded at his suggestion, noticing the costumed character before shaking her head. "I really should not," She sighed, turning towards the mountain instead. "If I am caught here in a photograph by anyone, I imagine my family's security will converge quickly and our day out will end earlier than I think either of us intended. It is probably for the best that I refrain from photography whilst here."

Still, she gave the Mouse a wistful look. She would not have minded meeting him, personally: it was better than meeting princesses, with their overly cheery expressions and espousing of true love. Mostly, Sonia felt sure Mikey would never let her live it down if she posed next to a heavily made up woman in a ballgown and tiara. "So, the Splash Mountain, then?"

He visibly cringed as she called him 'Sano San', vaguely aware that this was likely payback for his little nickname for her that she disliked so much. "Wow and here i thought we were friends. Fine then.. princess. Whatever suits you." He shrugged, playing it off so she couldn't tell how much the formality irked him. Two could play at that game.

It was nice, teasing this mafia boss to be who he'd just met, and having her tease him in return. He couldn't say many people tried to poke fun at him, and if they attempted, it usually ended up with him punching them. Instead, he enjoyed the familiarity of the bantering with her, not able to quite hide his grin as they moved into the line for the ride. "So.. you've actually met these wrathful spirits that your family offed?" Manjiro asked dubiously, not too concerned with the families that surrounded them. They were at the haunted house, and people would likely assume they were roleplaying, or retelling spooky stories. "Nah, I've never left Japan. Might be cool to visit elsewhere sometimes though." If his gang would be okay long enough for him to ever take a vacation... Gods knew he needed one though, and he was still only a teen.

He almost laughed as they watched the ghosts spin around. "Yeah I'm a leader.. but I don't know any dance moves. So I don't think I could lead someone around like that. It's not so easy for me at least. I've never even tried to dance." What good was dancing when he led a gang, that spoke with their fists? He knew that it was something a lot of couples did, but he'd never really even talked to many girls. Yet, the way the ghosts moved around made his eyes sparkle a bit. "It does look kind of fun though."

The ride wasn't fun for long as they entered the room with the clowns. Mikey tried not to give his companion a total death grip, as the juggling clowns grew closer. He would kill whoever thought that clowns or ghosts weren't scary enough, and that they should be combined. He shot a quick glare at Sonia, when she said she wouldn't tell anyone. "I don't need your pity... I won't be scared anymore dammit." He grumbled, forcing himself to stare right at one who was drifting much too close to their car.

Soon enough they were out of the room and onto the next, luckily. He eyed the bride left behind on the altar, and frowned. All the ghosts had seemed to be having fun, until this room, with this sole, lonely ghost. "What kind of deadbeat ghost left her here like this? That's pretty messed up. Makes me want to kick his pasty ass." As much as he'd never thought much about romance, let alone marriage, he knew it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

Then they were on to what seemed to be the finale, as there was a whole cemetery full of ghosts. "Well.. they do seem to be having fun, but would being dead really be like this? Partying all the time?" He had his doubts, although he hoped Satori and Baji had joined a choir and learned some dance routines. The car finally went to the end of the ride, and they pulled up where they started. The workers ushered them to get off.

Originally, he'd wanted to go to the roller coaster next. They were his favorite kind of rides. Now that she mentioned it though.. it was a rather hot and humid day, and the inside of the haunted house had been a bit warm and stuffy. "How about the water ride? It's a good way to cool off. We can do the roller coaster after if you want. We should have time for both."

He checked the map and headed for the log ride, as long as she agreed. There were more games on the way, a giant statue of mushu, an enormous castle seemingly made of ice, and.. "Oh hey it's Micky Mouse." Mikey pointed over to the guy in the costume, walking around. He was surrounded by children, taking photos as he went. "You can get a picture if you want, since you've never been here before."

[onestepbackwards]

You got anything for robot subway twins? I’m tryna get that robodick. Like you’re just their care taker or mechanic of Gear station and are tasked to upkeep the androids, but they love you 🥺

OH BOY DO I Sorry this took a while, Anon! I hope you enjoy! Word Count: 2918 - - -

Gear Station was a mess.

But it was your mess. Your favorite place to be.

The hustle and bustle of the crowd may have been chaotic to some, but it was a welcome, usual sight for you. You had to be here every other day, so you were fortunate it was a place you enjoyed seeing. Though you wished you were here for regular work. You bit your lip anxiously as you passed by different groups of people, heading for the back of the station. You had a specific job to do today, after all. Some depot agents had called you in early. Apparently there had been a near accident by the tracks. Everyone was okay, but it seems the station's androids were a little… Beaten up. You had been upset when you heard over the phone what had happened. Not so much for needing to come in to do repairs on your day off, but actually for the robots. Two robots, to be specific.

Ingo and Emmet were their names. Two identical twin robots the station had commissioned to have built.

They had been bought and brought in a little over a year ago. They were rather popular too.

The station had them made to be subway bosses. Gear Station had decided to branch out, and become a battle facility. However, the higher ups were having issues finding suitable battlers to run the subway.

So, the idea of a robot AI was tossed out, and lo and behold, the Subway Bosses were created.

They did their jobs well. Both were incredible battlers, and also amazing with people. Not to mention how real they looked. They were so human-like, it was almost unsettling.

The only giveaways were the occasional hidden seam under their clothes, their glowing eyes, and how they were a bit too… stiff. Stiff in a way that a human couldn’t naturally be.

Other than that, they were well loved by the community. They were respected in the station, both for their manners, and their battle prowess.

You adored them. You didn’t tell anyone this, but you genuinely liked the two of them. Probably more than you should. It was a secret you kept close to your heart. It was silly, you knew. Having a crush on the Gear Station androids, especially when they couldn’t feel emotions like humans. …But the way they looked and talked to you sometimes, it made you almost believe that they could.

It’s another reason you were willing to come into work so easily. You cared about your robot friends, and the idea that they could be hurt… It didn’t sit well with you. So when you entered the back area of maintenance designated for the robots, you expected the worst, but hoped for the best. You couldn’t help but gasp when you saw the two. Ingo was sitting on a chair, fiddling with his arm, which was sparking and squeaking, and moving oddly. Emmet was fretting over him, though he had a large dent on his back. Upon hearing you, both twins quickly looked over. Emmet’s face quickly turned into a relieved grin. “You’re here!” You quickly rush over to the two, worry clear on your face. “Oh Arceus, what happened!?” You asked, quickly setting down your tool bag, and looking over their ‘injuries’. Ingo happily showed you his arm, and you quickly got to work on the diagnostics. “Some kids were having a battle by the tracks. For safety reasons, they should not have done so, yet there were no depot agents on duty at the time.” Ingo began explaining, wincing a bit when you bent his arm. You gave him a slightly odd look. It was as if he had felt pain. How odd. “Ingo and I were in the area, and had seen them having a battle through the security system. We alerted the agents and security, but we were closest to the area in question.” You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. “Emmet and I approached, asking them to please battle elsewhere, or to wait for the battle subway. They got upset, and attacked us instead.” Ingo spoke, and you had to hold back a flare of anger. Those rules exist for a reason. Emmet watched as you fiddled with Ingo’s arm, pulling out a tool to look at it closer. You didn’t notice the affectionate look he gave you. “Ingo and I attempted to pull out our pokemon to calm the situation, but one of the kids who was close to the yellow line lost their footing.” Your head shot up. Emmet held up his hands. “They are safe. Ingo and I ran and caught them, though we fell on the tracks in the process. There were no trains on the way, but the rail caused some damage.” You briefly looked at the damage done on Ingo’s arm, and Emmet’s body. The rail had done that much? Both twins shared a look. “...And one of the children may have attacked us with their pokemon the moment we tried to climb off the tracks.” Ingo finished. “They what!?” “I assure you, we are alright. The station is already taking steps to handle the situation. As of right now, all of them are temporarily banned from the station, and the higher ups are pressing charges to the parents for property damage.” Your lips formed a fine line. You were upset. You hated that this happened. A lot of people love the Subway Bosses. But a lot of people also didn’t take them seriously. They were just robots, they’d say. It’s not like they can feel, they’d say. It made your blood boil, even if what they said were technically true. Just because the Bosses didn’t ‘feel’ things, didn’t mean you shouldn’t respect them. Ingo hissed when you tugged a wire. Your eyes shot up, and his eyes were on you. “Apologies. That… is tender.” Tender…? You nodded. “Sorry. I’ll try to be more gentle then.” You responded, and Ingo gave you a nod, and a small ‘thank you’. You had never heard of them ‘feeling’ tender before. Then again, they had never gotten damaged as badly as they had, today. You rarely ever see their internal wiring. But it was a bit odd. A little bit of time passed without you all talking, but you couldn’t help but feel your mind buzzing with different thoughts. As you finished attaching some wires, and fixing a seam, you decided to speak. “I’m glad you both are okay. You two didn’t deserve what happened.” You mumbled, feeling your face heat up. You felt both their eyes snap to you, though you were surprised to see such a gentle look on their faces when you glanced up. Emmet gave you a soft smile, one that took your breath away. “Thank you, darling."

You felt your face heat up again, and had stuttered a moment, before looking away. “N-No problem!”

‘C’mon! Get a hold of yourself!’ You chided in your head. He had never called you ‘darling’ before, but that doesn’t mean you should lose focus!

….Even if you really wanted him to call you that again.

You were so flustered, it didn’t even occur to you that Emmet shouldn’t be able to call you that in the first place.

It took a little bit more time, but you were able to get Ingo’s arm functioning again, though it unfortunately wasn’t perfect. “That should do for now. I’ll need the station to contact the company for some spare parts. After that, anything that needs fixing is purely cosmetic. Sorry about that.” You explained as Ingo flexed his arm in awe. “Just be careful not to do anything strainious! Just because it’s working okay now doesn’t mean it’s 100% fine.” You pointed out, and Ingo gave you a brisk nod. “Bravo! I will take your word to heart.” He said, looking over his arm in wonder. He then looked back at you. His hand reached forward, much to your confusion, and landed on your cheek. You sharply inhaled at the action. His hand, despite wearing a glove, was warm against your cheek. Your eyes met his glowing silver ones, and you felt your mouth go dry when he gave you a loving smile. “Thank you, my dear.” You felt your heart pound in your chest. At that moment, it felt so real. They weren’t robots you were hired to take care of. They were real people. Real twins that you had feelings for. Swallowing back your feelings and thoughts, you gave him a shaky smile, but backed away out of Ingo’s grasp. Ingo frowned at the action, but simply pulled his back. “It’s no issue! I’m happy to help!” You were also eager to take a break and get away. You were getting too flustered. Damn your crush on these two. You were reading way more into this than necessary. There’s no way they would feel something for you. It was against their code. Mentally sighing, you turned to face Emmet, motioning for him to turn around. You still had to deal with that dent, after all. The sooner you finish this, the sooner you could leave, and avoid looking dumb over your silly feelings. “Your turn, Emmet. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that large dent.” Emmet pouted. “I am Emmet! I will be fine.” You shook your head, and crossed your arms. “Emmet.”

He pouted once more, before facing away from you. You were thankful he didn’t put up a fight, and got a closer look. Upon inspection, it didn’t look too bad… But you didn’t want to just leave it. Years of experience has told you leaving something like this could cause problems down the line. …And you really didn’t want to see Emmet in pain, or to see him malfunction because of a stupid decision. You cared about him too much for that to happen. “Okay, I’ll need to buff out the dent, but I’ll need to take off your back plate.” You explained.  You also wanted to get a good look at his circuits, making sure none were damaged in that accident. Gently, you opened up Emmet’s back panel, and let out a sigh of relief. So far from a glance, it looked fine. You would just need to adjust where some wires were. Maybe tighten a few things, and tighten a few screws. You could feel your anxiety ease up. Emmet was fine. Both of them were fine. Nothing to worry about. It didn’t take long to buff out the dent in his back plating, after taking out a tool. It would need new paint, sure, but it’d be an easy fix. What was more on your mind were the wires and the circuits. You briefly looked over those in his back. You took one of his wires into your hand, examining it. However, Emmet’s back shot straight up, and he let out a gasp. The action startled you enough to let go, and you froze. Had you… hurt him? “Emmet…?” You asked carefully, hand hovering over the wire. Before you can ask if he’s alright, his head turns slightly to look at you from over his shoulder. “I am Emmet! That… tickled, is all.” You wanted to raise an eyebrow at him, but he simply looked at you with that same smile, and glowing eyes. You wanted to ask questions. Tickled? What did he mean? “What-” “Do not worry! I am fine! The wiring is just sensitive!” You gave him an odd look. You didn’t doubt the wiring was ‘sensitive,’ but… that was an odd reaction to have. You decided to be a bit more gentle. You softly gripped the wire, and noticed the younger bot had tensed. Carefully, you properly adjusted the wire, though Emmet seemed dead set on squirming. Odd noises were coming out of his voice box as well. If you didn’t know any better, you would have sworn they were moans. But that's not possible. Right? “Emmet, you need to sit still-” you begin, trying to avoid hurting him while moving the wires. Your hand brushed up against one closer to his core, and he let out a squeal. “S-Sorry, darling!” he whimpered. Your eyes were wide. Hesitantly, you brushed your hands against the wires once more, and Emmet gripped the table in front of him, letting out what definitely sounded like a low moan. You could feel your brain wanting to blue screen. Were you giving him pleasure? That sure as hell didn’t sound like pain. Feeling yourself grow hot, you quickly finish what you set out to do, trying to be as gentle as possible, and ignore the delicious noises that were coming from the bot in front of you. Thankfully, you didn’t have much left to adjust, so you were quick to close his back panel, and begin getting your things together. “That should do it for you two, for now. You’ll both need some minor replacements, but you both should be functional. I’ll have the station order in some parts, and I’ll finish the repairs when those are shipped in.” You explained as you put your stuff together. Emmet stretched a bit, and looked over at you. You didn’t want to leave, but those noises… and how gentle both had been treating you… You had to leave before you made a fool of yourself. “If that’s everything, I’ll be on my way-” You began, and headed for the door. However, you were cut off when someone grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into a metal chest. You take a moment to gather your bearings, and froze when you realized what had happened. Glancing up, you were in Emmet’s hold, who had a strange look on his face. You wanted to speak, but all the words you could say seemed to catch in your throat. “Thank you, darling. We appreciate everything you do for us. We are very fortunate to have you as our caretaker.” He spoke softly, and ran a hand through your hair. Before you could register the words in your head, Ingo stood next to you both, and took your free hand in his own. “You mean so much to us, dear. Please take care of yourself, and stay safe on your way home.” He then took your hand, and pressed your knuckles against his lips in a small bow. The entire time, he never took those glowing eyes off of you. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and licked your lips. You felt your mouth go incredibly dry. After a few more moments, Ingo let go of your hand, and Emmet let you free from his grasp. You stepped away from them, and struggled to find your words. “I-I will! Thank you!” You stammered, and backed away towards the door. As you began to open it, however, you turned around to face them. “And uh… You two mean a lot to me too. Please take care of yourselves as well.” You said softly, before quickly shuffling out the door. When you closed the door behind you, you ended up leaning against it, your hand over your chest. It was as if your heart was trying to leap out of your chest with how hard it was pounding. Your mind was racing, and you could barely think straight. “Oh Arceus. I’m in trouble.” You whispered, before grabbing your bag and heading home. Meanwhile, Ingo and Emmet shared a look, and let out a small noise of frustration. They were so close! Oh, how they wanted to confess to you! They had been working for months! They can’t tell you when exactly they somehow broke their code, and gained feelings for you. However, they knew one thing. They wanted you. They wanted you as a partner, not as an engineer. You worked so hard for them! You cared for them, more than just robots for the subway! The way you treated them was more than just objects, you treated them like they were people. Something not a lot of humans did. It wasn’t hard to fall for you. Both wanted to cherish you. Hold you close. Do all the things human partners did. But they weren’t human.

Not to mention, they were still getting used to the whole ‘having feelings’ thing. They had a lot of catching up to do in terms of affection and relationships.

But they were very observant. It wasn’t hard to pick up on things from couples on the subway, and learn a few things from some research.

It wasn’t hard to figure out you had some sort of feelings for them, either. They were designed to be observant, after all!.

But then there was the problem. How to confess to you, and properly court you. They were robots, after all.

They weren’t blind. They knew having a relationship with them would be met with some side eye, and they wouldn’t be able to give you everything a human partner could.

But they wanted to try, for you. They wanted to be happy with you.

All they needed to do was show you their affection, just like they had done today!

Now if only they could actually confess to you.

No matter. They both have time.

Maybe next time they’re alone together with you, they’ll finally have the courage to do so. Until then, well…

They don’t mind pining for you from a distance, for just a little bit longer.

[cinebration]

Engage My Services (Sherlock Holmes x Reader) [Part 2; Request]

I have to ask to Sherlock and the reader from Engage My Services ever get together. Who admits their feelings first?—Requested by @inlovewithhisblueeyes​​

Part 1 | Part 2

Warnings: none

Gif Source: henrycavilledits

In the months that followed your broken engagement to that odious man undeserving of mention, you found yourself thinking of Sherlock. It would not have been an unusual occurrence, as he was your friend and an acquaintance of the family, if not for the fact that you had begun to consider him in a different light. Perhaps it was not merely that you were seeing him anew; it was as likely that you had merely removed the wool from your eyes to understand how things truly were.

It came to be that some five months after Sherlock had rescued you from the arranged marriage that you found yourself utterly unsettled by the realization that you had developed feelings for the great detective. Perhaps they had been there all along, those pesky feelings, the kind that made your stomach flutter and your skin prickle.

Regardless, you resolved to quash them for the sake of your own sanity and emotional wellbeing. It was common knowledge that Sherlock was not suitable husband material, not least of all because he was known to be a brilliant mind but an abysmal candidate even for proper friendship. He had not the capacity to see beyond cold logic and to understand the heart of things, particularly people. You knew this from having seen him interact with clients and “friends” alike, treating all with the same disconnected aloofness that made him such a formidable detective.

He seemed different around his sister, Enola, that was evident, but she occupied such a distinct place in his life that it was generally understood she was the only person for whom any and all affection Sherlock was capable of experiencing was directed. The man had not the capacity to extend any such emotion to anyone else, least of all a silly young woman who had nothing to give him.

For that was how you viewed yourself. Yes, you knew your worth. You knew that while the disreputable almost-husband your parents had thrust on you months before was undeserving of you, you felt undeserving of Sherlock. Such a phenomenal intellect as his had no time to waste on you.

No, for you it would be some middling lord or landed gentleman who would treat you well but for whom you would have very little feeling beyond some fondness developed over the years as a necessity of survival. It was what had happened to your mother; while she claimed to love your father deeply, something that had occurred over a great many years, you knew in your heart that the woman had settled, convincing herself that she could be at the very least not unhappy in her circumstances.

It would be the trajectory of your life, too, as it was for so many of the women in the world you inhabited. Those who married for love were the subject of novels in which they were punished for such frivolity. The very thought of it flooded your mouth with an acrid taste you could not remove for days.

~~

Seasons changed, and the social scene changed with it, following the ebb and flow of unseen social currents as seaweed and flotsam floated with the tide. Your parents found themselves elevated a rung or two—the very same outcome they had desired from your arranged marriage—and as such, they brought you along with them in the hopes of securing you a more appropriate suitor.

The parties to which you were dragged always overstimulated you in the wrong ways. You did your best to adhere to your manners, but when you had been too long among the crowds and the raucous festivities, head slightly dizzy from the wine you sipped with the too-rich dinner, you found yourself speaking improperly to any man your mother situated before you. This impropriety extended itself not so much in indecent behavior as it did in you dismissing the men impolitely.

“I’m sorry, sir, but I would much rather speak with the hair that has escaped from your head,” you lobbed at one poor unfortunate soul.

The man reared back as though slapped and hastened away, blustering through the crowd with the brute force of offended pride.

A small chuff sounded behind you.

You spun to hurl another insult but froze in your tracks. The faint trace of an amused smile played out on Sherlock’s lips as you met his gaze. Utterly lost for words, you wrung your hands together and cast about desperately for some sort of salvation.

“I have never had the pleasure of seeing Lord Farthing so severely eviscerated with mere words,” he said, drawing nearer to be heard over the rumble of the crowd around you.

Pressing the back of your wrist to your forehead, you mustered up a shaky smile and suppressed the urge to shrug. “I have grown tired, and I’m afraid it…weaponizes me.”

“Clearly.”

Clearing your throat, you managed, “How are you?”

“Bored.”

“I meant in general. I saw some of your recent cases in the papers. You have quite a chronicler.”

“Yes, that Boswell of mine certainly has outdone himself in exaggerating my efforts.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that, having seen some of those efforts firsthand.”

He smiled politely, perhaps because he had been taught to do so, and glanced around the room as though seeking escape. Mortified that you had socially blundered, you hurried to excuse yourself, not least of all for the flutters in your stomach.

“Please don’t,” Sherlock said. “I have no one else to talk to whose company does not drive me to exasperation.”

Blinking in surprise, you nodded and followed him over to the fringes of the crowd, where the general murmur was quieter and the space less populated. You sat on a settee in the corner, nestled between two pillars holding up the balcony to the second floor of the building.

Peeling the gloves from your hands, you wrung them between your fingers as Sherlock sat beside you. The unpleasant sensation in your stomach was growing, hardening into something akin to a knot. Swallowing thickly, you stared out into the crowd. Your parents floated from group to group, ingratiating themselves with the lords and ladies in attendance in a blatant show of obsequiousness.

“Have your parents found you another suitor?”

You twitched in surprise to hear Sherlock’s voice. It took a moment for his question to descend through your awareness, like a stone sinking through water to the bottom of a pond. “Oh, no, thankfully.” You glanced back at your parents. “Although, I would not be surprised if they are trying to select one from the group here.” Your lips pulled into a deep frown.

“Well, if whomever they select you consider unsuitable, you need not hesitate to enlist me.”

Heart leaping into your throat, you turned your attention to Sherlock. His intense gaze met yours unflinchingly, utterly serious.

“I should think I would,” you heard yourself say past your tightening throat. “I think I only have one suitor in mind.”

A tiny furrow appear between Sherlock’s eyebrows. “I see.”

“Do you? I don’t think you possibly could.”

“Who is the suitor?”

Heart knocking about in your ribcage, you inhaled shakily, perturbed by the tremors of anxiety running through you. Sherlock’s piercing gaze felt too much, your skin hot and icy cold by turns as you felt the word forming on your lips. You had to speak it, if only to hear an answering “no.”

“You.”

Sherlock blinked, the furrow suddenly a deep valley slicing across his forehead. “I don’t understand.”

“I…if you would have me, Sherlock, I would very much like for you to be my suitor.”

The detective leaned back in his seat. You could nigh hear the mechanism in his mind churning as he processed your request. The longer he sat there, the worse your agitation became, coursing through you like lines of galvanization.

“I am not one most would considerable suitable,” he said at length.

“Does it matter to most if it only matters to one?”

“I would not be an easy companion.”

“I never asked for easy.”

“I prioritize my work.”

“I would be happy to help you with that in any way I could.”

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I am not sure I could provide you with what you require.”

“I need very little.”

“I am not speaking materially.”

“Neither am I.”

You both stared at each other. You wondered in a moment of absurdity whether he could hear the savage beating of your heart as it tried to dislodge itself from your chest.

Sherlock nodded a fraction. “I…would be willing to try.”

The tension in your body broke, replaced with a surge of warmth. “That is all I would ask of you.”

[psychopompstories]

Wish For Wings

Author’s Notes: Ok, everyone. I wanted to take a moment before we start this one. The psychopomps are meant to be a respectful exploration of death, but some content may not be suitable for all readers. This story includes themes related to the pandemic. If that’s not a story you want to read, please feel free to skip this one.

Content Warnings: pandemic related topics, death of a child, death

“Fools,” Cat murmured. Her eyes narrowed as she watched the marching, chanting humans gathered nearby. They were shouting and waving signs, accosting other people on the street. Their bare faces set them apart from all the other humans in the area. Especially the ones moving around and inside the nearby hospital. She could have said more, but sometimes there were no words strong enough.

I made a low croaking sound. Not agreement, or disagreement.

The silence between us was heavy. Heavy with the weight of unspoken things, unspeakable things. We were old, she and I, and had seen many ages of civilization rise and fall. And yet, she still took it to heart. She could disdain and look down on Egg and Dog for their sentimentality while being just as passionate in her views.

A bare-faced man shouted at a passing stranger, who veered to avoid him, trying to keep distant. Cat grew more and more irate, silently vibrating with compressed rage, until a low, eerie sound came up from inside her. A few mortals nearby shied away, unsettled by the sound of her, though none looked her way.

“They are naught but the choices they make,” I eventually said, if only to break her fixation. “Altruism is a choice, and so is selfishness. There is nothing unnatural in holding one’s own life in greater esteem than the life of another.”

“They should know better,” Cat hissed. “Ignorants, dealing death with their eyes wide open, how dare you say that to me, Crow. They destroy themselves and others in their idiocy, this insanity that drives them is just that.”

“So you agree with Egg,” I said, the words coy. “That humans have gone, or have always been, mad.”

“Humans have always been violent.”

The silence that followed was long.

Cat was so infuriated, glaring at the protesting mortals, that she didn’t notice the arrival of another guide. A hoof larger than her own body stepped into the space at her right, and another followed, making no sound. Cat reacted without thought. A sound like water hitting a hot pan, a yowl, and the side of a car slapped her as she clawed at the metal. The outburst lasted a mere moment, but she was left with fur bristled and a tail twice its usual size.

"Good afternoon, Cat," Lock said. A horse of statuesque proportions, they nonetheless moved with a delicate grace that made even Cat look ungainly. Their long face was solemn. Their wide, dark eyes were bright.

Perched on the lamp post above, I said absolutely nothing. In a different age, I would have been screaming with laughter, but instead there was silence. A perfect, painful silence. Any attempt to regain some semblance of dignity was utterly lost by the way we watched her.

"You're both intolerable," she said.

"Rubbish," they said, pawing the ground with one hoof. "Is that how you would greet an old friend?"

"Where have you been?" she asked.

"Away."

My wings shift, a sound of old pages turning and dust gathering. "When hopes and dreams are loose in the streets..."

"Yes, well," they said, giving their head a shake that made a silken mane ripple against a muscular neck. "They do tell their most compelling stories when they're facing death together, do they not?"

Cat made a disgusted sound. “Is that what you would name this--” She nodded her head sharply towards the bare-faced humans. “--this disgrace? Inspired?”

“You can't hate them, Cat,” Lock replied, the words a gentle rebuke.

“I can.”

“You can’t.” Dipping their head low, they rubbed their nose against their leg, then snorted a warm gust of breath in her direction. “They are simply people, my friend. And people are all fundamentally the same.”

She made a sound in her throat, harsh and choked. “How so?”

Lock and I spoke together. “They’re alive.”

“And they die,” Lock added, with a soft whicker. They sighed, a heavy sound, but not a hopeless one. The sigh of one who had endured the ages with all their hope intact, banked like coals on the darkest nights. “You must understand, Cat. Lies are the plague of this age, destructive as they have always been. The lies and greed of the few will never serve the many. But those who give their lives to the betterment of others will always outnumber those who do not, and their actions change this world more than those would profit from the dead.”

We were interrupted by a child, who wandered over with a spring in her step and a smile on her face. Her eyes were bright, she skipped right up to Lock and though the top of her head barely reached their muzzle, she showed no fear. “Hello!”

Lock brushed her head with their muzzle, their breath stirring her hair, making her giggle and grasp for their nose. “Hello, child.”

I knew her. She was one of mine, her time already come after so short a life. Her attention turned to Cat and she crouched down to offer a hand, her small voice gentle, “And hello, kitty.” Cat, tamping down every bit of anger in her body to a single twitch of her tail, delicately sniffed the girl’s hand. She did no more, and the girl seemed to feel this was fair, not slighted by it.

Gliding down from my perch, I alighted on the ground nearby and the child laughed. “Crow! I didn’t know you’d be here. Did you get my present?”

“I did, sweet one.” I tilted my head and met her eyes. “Would you like to stay for a while or are you ready to go?”

She looked back towards the hospital, sad for a moment. No regret in her expression, simply sadness. “People are going to miss me.”

“They will,” I agreed. “Because they love you. But you know you can't stay?"

She nodded slowly. "I know." Putting her fingers into her mouth for a moment, looking younger than her years, she made a quiet sound. "Can I stay here with you for a little while?"

"A little while," I agreed.

An ambulance came around the corner, lights and siren blaring, and Cat murmured something about needing to go and slunk off in that direction. Her back was still bristled and her gait a prowling stalk that made mortals in her path shiver and look around for where the chill had come from. Lock talked quietly with the girl, asking her about her life, and I let them go without interruption. Fond reminiscence wouldn’t hold her back. No sign of regret on her at all.

Her family had loved her well.

Eventually, another figure came wandering out of the hospital doors, passing right through the glass without seeming to notice. He had a dazed, exhausted air and his steps were slow. He kept looking back, like someone who had forgotten something, until he turned his head and saw Lock.

They met his eyes with gentle warmth, drawing him over with a quiet whicker. His hand brushed at their forehead, pushing aside the long fall of their mane to expose the blaze on their forehead. His other hand reached for his face and removed the blue surgical mask that hid his features. “Are you here for me?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“I am,” Lock agreed.

Dark brown eyes wandered back to the hospital. “But...”

“You have given all that you could,” his guide reassured him, and though their voice was quiet, it rang with the clarity of a bell. “More than anyone could have asked of you. Time is a precious thing, and you have made a gift of it to so many.”

“If not me,” the man replied with a slow smile, tired but genuine, “someone would have cared for them.”

“Perhaps,” Lock agreed. "The gift given to you, you have given to and for others. You, and those like you, change this world far more than you know."

There was a moment of silence.

“There are people I would like to see, if I may.” The man discarded much of what he was wearing, down to the scrubs, anything that left his hand faded into semi-corporeality as they touched the ground. They would linger for a time and then fade, like dew evaporating in the sun. “Just to check in one last time.”

“Even if you cannot help them?” Lock asked, in a firm but compassionate tone.

“Even so,” the man agreed with a nod and no hesitation. “It would bring me peace to see them again.”

Lock made a quiet, velvet sound and turned, neck arching in invitation. “Come along, then. One last time.” The man had no trouble climbing up to sit astride their back, despite their great height. In silence, the two departed.

I am, like all of my kind, called to the ones that need me. The old, the young, those whose death comes as the earth turns, a natural progression of age or disease. Such times as these come like clockwork to the human world, nature's reminder that She is no tame creature. Humankind will endure and overcome, as they have always done.

No great change is unmet by resistance. Cat spoke the truth, humans have always been violent. And they have always been passionate. But their plights, their causes, cannot be ours.

We must look to our purpose, no matter the choices made by those we guide. No matter their choices, they all meet the same fate. Death does not play favorites, and nor should we. But we are, like those who dreamed us into being, flawed. At times, we hate them. And at times...

The child was playing with a feather she had found, and didn’t seem to notice the other spirit. That was often the way of things. Unless their lives were bound in some way, there was no reason for them to see each other in this in-between place.

I hopped over to her, rustling my wings. "Come now, let’s be on our way."

"Ok," she said, twirling the feather between her fingers and smiling at me. She gave the protesting mortals one last look, her eyebrows scrunched together. “I wish I could make them be less angry.”

“As do I,” I agreed. “Don’t worry, sweet one. I am not here for them today. Today is your day. I wish it did not have to be today, but we will fly together this once, before you go. Hold tight to that feather, and wish for wings."

[pagetreader]

Bixby’s next words cut sharper than any blade might, "Perhaps this is true, but I would much rather be lacking the ability to lend comfort than to be a self-important cow."

But before Penelope could so much as open her mouth to reply, Benjamin rushed forward and promptly decked the man in the face, sending Bixby to crash backward into the refreshments table. Penelope squeaked in shock, raising both her hands to cover her mouth in hopes of stifling any further shock, as well as to cover the uncouth smile of delight at the burning sense of justice she felt had been delivered. 

That delight, of course, was soon plummeting into a deep and unsettling dread, for this would surely not bode well for either of them, especially considering all conversation had ceased and every eye present was now fixed upon the scene. Next thing Penelope knew, Bixby was demanding a duel to settle the matter. Her dread twisted into a gut wrenching panic.

Oh dear God, no!

"Don't be a fool," Mr. Tallmadge chastised the pathetic heap of a man, "You laze about playing cards all day. I was a veteran. Do you really want to test if my aim has remained true?" 

“Gentlemen, please,” Penelope tried to interject, her voice not sounding very assertive as it did meekly terrified. The girl who stood up for herself only moments early had vanished clear into thin air. 

Slapping away the hand that was offered to him, Bixby continued to snap, "You insult my honor, and now you insult my manhood with such remarks. If you are truly so cowardly, then say so now!"

"I demand nothing but an apology to Miss Featherington,” Tallmadge answered, “I believe you insulted her honor first, sir. I only chose an eye for an eye."

Truly, Mr. Tallmadge was a gallant knight like from the tales of old, but never would Penelope have wanted him to be thrust into such trouble on her account. In fact, she’d regretted she’d never approached him about her plans in the first place if it meant he’d be safe from harm. 

When it was revealed that Bixby was embittered by the loss of his uncle, suddenly his demeanor had made all the more sense, and while the redhead wasn’t sorry she’d taken a stand, she rather pitied the man enough to wish that the altercation had never transpired. 

"Come, Miss Featherington," Mr. Tallmadge urged, "I don't think this is suitable for your ears."

Penelope, not realizing she’d been holding her breath, finally exhaled as she was led away from the chaos, but Bixby continued his angered shouts, baiting her companion with words they all knew he wouldn’t be able to permit without repercussions. 

"But then again, maybe you can."

Mr. Tallmadge came to an abrupt stop, his stance rigid and Penelope prayed he would let it go as she squeezed his arm pleadingly, but to no avail. 

"Outside. Now."

The command was cool but authoritative, sending a shiver up Penelope’s spine. God in heaven, she had to put a stop to this before it was too late. 

“Benjamin,” she addressed urgently and forgetting the importance of formality entirely. Her eyes were brimming with fear as she lightly tugged his arm, “Please, don’t do this. The man isn’t worth all this – and certainly not your life.” 

If she could so publicly display a more intimate act of affection, she would have taken his hands, perhaps pressed her hands to his chest or even cradled his face – anything to get him to look at her and listen.  “Please,” she implored again, “Please don’t.”

The phrase "incorrigible, but right" soon proved to be painfully lacking. It was clear by Bixby's mood that he'd been caught at an inopportune time, and the sparkle in Benjamin's eyes quickly faded as that mood grew more cantankerous. What had he brought poor Penelope into? In his experience, Bixby could be abrasive at times, but certainly never rude.

Before he could offer their excuses, the latter surprised him when she rebuffed, “I’m afraid I'm inclined to disagree, Mr. Bixby. A book can provide stimulation and comfort.” Bixby opened his mouth to reply when she delivered the fatal blow: “Two traits you appear to sorely lack.”

The man merely gaped at her for a moment, and Benjamin felt a stinging swell of pride within his chest. He wasn't certain she was capable of self-preservation, and had come quite close to leaping to her defense.

Bixby, however, clearly had other thoughts in mind. "Perhaps this is true," he coolly agreed, "but I would much rather be lacking the ability to lend comfort than to be a self-important cow."

Benjamin acted before his brain. Although he was a man who tried to be slow to anger, when it came to a woman's honor -- or any of his friends, really -- he tended to become hotheaded and brash. His fist connected harshly with Bixby's nose, causing the man to jerk and topple backwards into the refreshments table. He knocked over quite a few glasses of lemonade with his flailing, and nearly took the tablecloth with him as he plummeted to the floor.

Benjamin immediately felt a stab of regret, but not for the cursing man on the floor. This would not reflect well upon Penelope; she had enlisted his help, and this was his brilliant solution?

"I demand satisfaction," Bixby seethed. Taking out his handkerchief, he placed it over his bleeding nose and glared up at Benjamin with the intent to murder. "Choose your second, Tallmadge, and a pistol you believe to be on par with my superior aim."

Benjamin shook his head. "Don't be a fool," he chastised. "You laze about playing cards all day. I was a veteran. Do you really want to test if my aim has remained true?" Here, he held out a hand to the other man, but Bixby smacked it away in a fury.

"You insult my honor, and now you insult my manhood with such remarks!" he snapped. "If you are truly so cowardly, then say so now!"

While the man struggled to rise to his feet, Benjamin coolly said, "I demand nothing but an apology to Miss Featherington. I believe you insulted her honor first, sir. I only chose an eye for an eye."

By now, their onlookers were openly gawking. One man finally exclaimed, "Come now, Tallmadge -- the man just lost his uncle!"

Bixby flinched as though struck, his bottom lip petulant and full, much like a child's. Benjamin immediately felt sorry for not having known about his loss, but he still couldn't find it in himself to regret the punch.

"Come, Miss Featherington," Benjamin encouraged. "I don't think this is suitable for your ears."

"You can't hide behind her forever, Tallmadge!" Bixby called after him. With his lips curling into a cruel sneer, he added, "But then again, maybe you can."

Benjamin came to a dead stop. Although he could sense Penelope's willingness to leave, it took everything in him not to turn around and swing yet another fierce uppercut toward Bixby's smart mouth. "Outside," he coolly commanded the man. "Now."

[captainpikeswoman]

Inspired by your latest McCoy post, how would Captain Jean-Luc Picard react to being called by his full name (I know he doesn’t have a middle name in canon, but I headcanon his middle name as Alain)?

Let’s give him the middle name Alain! Hope you like it!

Calling Captain Picard by his full name would include:

•he’s always always always gone by Jean-Luc. He loves his name, he loves the heritage and significance of it.

•but these days he mostly goes by ‘Captain’, so it’s nice for him to just be Jean-Luc again when you’re around. And he very much likes the way his name rolls off your tongue.

•he can’t help but smile everytime you greet him with a gentle call of his first name, it’s intimate, it’s sweet. If you ever do it when other people are around he’ll blush a brilliant brick red colour! So you try as much as possible to keep it as a private thing.

•you manage to make calling him ‘Captain’ suitably flirty that it works even as a nickname when you’re surrounded by others- he can only be himself in private after all.

•he only ever gets Jean-Luc Alain Picard shouted or used by you when he’s up to something! If you think his hatching some cheeky little plan, or withholding information from you, you’ll squint as you stare into his eyes and try to read his mind. He can’t help but laugh as you break out his full name! But actually it’s a good warning to him that you’re onto him, that you know he’s up to something.

•so yeah, he feels a little like a student called in front of the headteacher to explain what they’re up to…but that just makes him laugh, we all know of his rebellious streak- and it manifests itself as laughter when you say his full name.

•perhaps his favourite thing to be called by you is Jean-Luc Alain, you only ever call him that when you’re seducing him, or when you’re sighing his name in relief or satisfaction! It never fails to spur him on. If you ever want to get him raring to go- to go from naught to sixty really fast, then you use that name. Because that’s the effect it has on him, it gets him eating out of the palm of your hand! He’d give you anything you asked for if you called him Jean-Luc Alain- it’s his weak spot for sure!

•absolutely no one else is allowed to call Jean-Luc by his middle name; Q dared to try once and Jean-Luc spent the whole day ignoring him…it was very unsettling for Q! So he made sure never to make that mistake ever again! Calling him Alain was reserved only for you; not even Beverley would dare.