#as far as i know i am maybe the only person who ships these two...

[inccev-01]

ci flower x kafu save me... save me ci flower x kafu...

#meow.txt #as far as i know i am maybe the only person who ships these two... #in my aus kafu acts stoic but is really masking to hide her quirkiness #and ci is usually a girlfailure. sorry for using that word i dont know what else to call her other than that to be fair #they have a dynamic similar to minoharu from proseka that's like. the closest thing i can describe it to. anyways ill shut up now hdgsgsh #i commissioned an artist whose work i really like to draw them together and they're so good at ship art im not ready for it 😭 #i hate that i have to specify this at all but i typically see kafu as 16-18 years old and ci as 17... #i know a lot of people hc kafu as a kid but she has never read that way to me. she's at the very least a teenager #imo anyways lol

[writersdrug]

Simon Riley x Dog Sitter! Reader pt. 2

<- Previous - Next ->

Warnings: light cursing, light nsfw, Simon being the tiniest bit of a creep

A/N: so originally this was just a fluffy thought I had a few weeks ago... it's slowly turning into a longer, multi-chapter series, and Simon is a bit darker than I had intended him to be... but the story is still going to stay relatively normal (there will be full NSFW further down the line, lol)!

Sure enough, Simon had emailed you by Tuesday afternoon. You noticed how... unprofessional it was. Not that he had been rude or obscene, but it was obviously written by someone who never had to write many emails for his career.

here is riley's routine. she likes walks, usually 3 or 4 a day. she eats one scoop in the morning and one at night. she doesn't finish her food all at once, but she'll come back to it. if you're gonna give her more cookies, just two per day. fill water every morning. around the house, if you could just dust and clean up any dog hair, that would be great. let me know if meeting me tomorrow at 0900 for the key works. I ship out thursday. thanks.

Simon.

You chewed your thumb nail, reclining on your couch with a confused expression. Was he irritated with you for some reason? He didn't show it at the interview if he did have any hostile feelings... you reminded yourself that he was a rather gruff man, and maybe that just bled into his written words, too. You rolled your shoulders and started working out your reply.

Hello Simon! Tomorrow works perfect for me, I'll be there by 9 am!

Does Riley have any favorite places she likes to go? Any particular spots or trails she enjoys? Also, are there any rules you have for her, like being on the couch? Is she ok going to the dog park? Lastly, does she take any medications I should be aware of?

See you soon!

You sent the message, sighing and dropping your head back against the arm of the sofa. You were honestly thankful that you'd gotten the job, even if Simon was a rather stiff client. You finally quit your shitty job, and while you did still have babysitting your niece and nephew, you never charged for that - the only time you were "paid" for it was when you took them out somewhere fun, and your sister forced you to accept money for the admission fee.

So this gig fell into your lap at the perfect time. And the fact that you had beat every other person Simon had interviewed made your ego soar. It wouldn't be a bad idea to make a career out of this, you thought.

Your phone dinged - you held it above your face, and saw that Simon had already responded. You sat upright and opened the email.

she only takes aspirin when her leg flares up. no more than twice a day. no favorite trails, we just go around the block a few times. she can sit on the couch, my bed too, but she'll need help getting up. no human food is the only other rule. never took her to a dog park, but if you really want to, that's fine. she's good with other dogs.

Simon.

You frowned. Walking the same block every day, multiple times each day, sounded awful. It wasn't even close to animal neglect, but you couldn't imagine walking the same route every single time. If it didn't drive Riley insane, it certainly would for you.

You read back over the email, your eyes lingering on "if her legs flare up." Simon had never discussed Riley having arthritis with you - and you sincerely hoped that was the reason she had leg pain, and nothing else. You made a mental note to ask him about it tomorrow as you began to write your reply.

Understood. Thanks again!

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

"Here's the basement." Simon said, leading you down the stairs and into a dullish room. It had a cheaply-manufactured desk, what appeared to be a dining chair (not matching the dining set upstairs), a stuffed bookshelf, and some cardboard boxes filled with paper. A fan stood in the far corner, and next to it was the washing room. Much like what he had shown you of the rest of the house, it was bland and drab.

You looked around, letting out a polite noise of approval. Truth be told, Simon's life seemed awfully boring to you. Your mother had always told you that military men were always overly practical, in more than just home decor. They never cared much for the environment around them, as long as there was no mold, or anything similar. But you had never expected it to be so brutally true.

You knew he had a life outside of his home - from the way he described it, he was usually deployed more often than he was in his own home country. But you wondered - what did he do for fun, besides watch the telly? Did he have friends, and were they all like him? Any hobbies?

"If for whatever reason y' need to clean up a stain, you can find solution in there." He said, pointing to the washer room. "Other than that, nothin' much to see down 'ere."

You followed him as he trudged back up the stairs. Riley was sat upright on the floor, watching you and Simon move about the house with an observant expression.

"The only other things I'll ask you to do is hoover n' dust when it looks like it needs it." He said, leaning against the kitchen counter. "There really isn't much else t' do; of course, if you do see anything that needs fixin' you can always text me." He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as he worked out a crick in his neck. "Might not answer immediately, but I'll see it."

You nodded, standing in the walkway of the kitchen. Even with him leaning against the counter, muscles hidden under his sweatshirt, he was huge. For a brief moment, you imagined what he looked like on the field, dressed in his uniform and holding a gun - but you quickly shooed the thought from your mind before it had the chance to latch on and fester. "Gotcha. And just so I know, do you let Riley sleep with you?"

Simon paused in confusion before he responded. "Come again?"

"Like- you know, if I crash on the couch, is she allowed up with me?" You said, shifting your weight. You couldn't quite tell if Simon was irked by your question, or if he was genuinely confused.

He paused again. "Uh, yea, that's fine. If y' don't mind waking up covered in 'er slobber."

You laughed. "Nah, I'm used to it. A little drool never bothered me. Although, if I do need to wash up, am I alright to use the shower? Or would you rather I use my own back at my flat?"

Suddenly, it clicked in Simon's head. You were planning on sleeping at his house.

He had assumed you would just stop by for walks and meals - he didn't expect you to actually live here while he was gone, and he wasn't sure how it made him feel. He'd never had anyone else spend the night. Hell, no one ever visited, besides the rare occasions of the rest of the 141 stopping by. Even then, they never stayed for longer than a conversation or two.

But, once he took a second to think about it, he realized it might be better if you did stay - at least, while he was on missions. Riley would be bored out of her mind if she was alone that long, especially after spending the past several weeks with Simon constantly there. It would be good for someone to be there when he wasn't, and you seemed like you would be the best person for that, of course.

"Sure, 's fine." He said, rubbing the back of his head. "Just don't touch my shit in there."

"Don't worry about that..." You said quietly, "catch me dead and cold before I touch a 3-in-1 anything."

He chuckled and rolled his eyes. It was refreshing that you could handle his gruffness - most people treated him like a landmine, never wanting to say the wrong thing and set him off. You seemed to have taken life by the horns, like you weren't afraid to bite back at someone. He wondered if that was all for show, or if you really would snap back if he was to test you...

He pushed himself off the counter and reached into the drawer behind him, pulling out a spare key. He walked over to you and held it out. You were just about to take it, when he suddenly yanked it back.

You faltered. "Sorry...?"

"You lose this key..." Simon began lowly, "n' I'll frame you for murder. Understood?"

You gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He didn't really mean that... did he? You waited for him to laugh and say he was just joking... but he never did. His eyes bored into yours so intensely, making you shiver, as he waited for you to answer.

"Y-yes, sir. Understood." You said, voice wavering a bit.

He grunted in satisfaction, then handed you the key. You let out the breath you had been holding, then cautiously took the key, before immediately attaching it to your lanyard. You didn't want to take any chances at losing it - not after Simon's threat. You took a deep breath and smiled at him, trying to dust the exchange off of your shoulders.

"You can come 'round tomorrow after o' nine hundred, I'll be out by then." He said, turning sideways to moce past you and heading towards the door. You followed behind and rubbed Riley's head when you passed her; she let out a contented sound.

"Feel free t' use the kitchen if you'll be stayin' overnight." He opened the door for you and leaned against it.

"Will do, thank you!" You chirped, hovering on the landing outside of his house, right were you were two days ago. "Thank you for showing me around - good luck on your- mission- deployment, thingamajig!"

He huffed. "Promise I will, luv."

Your spine tingled in response to his comment. Get it together, don't get your knickers in a twist over a client. You thought. You straightened your posture and cleared your throat.

"Well, see you around!" You said with a smile, then hopped down the steps to your car.

Simon waved, taking a moment to watch you pull out of his driveway. He shut the door and leaned back against it, exhaling slowly through his nostrils.

He was an observant man - he had to be, with his occupation. Your reaction to being called "luv" didn't fly over his head. And it's not like Simon didn't know the effect he had on women... he knew how he looked, how he presented himself, and he saw the reactions it got him.

But with you, something felt different. He saw your reaction, and a part of him wanted to chase after it. To see what you would do if he continued to apply pressure to your weak spots. Would you blush? Would you call him out? Would you drop the gig altogether?

He thought about how easily the word "sir" had rolled off of your tongue. He thought about how you would look, all tuckered out on his couch, donned in whatever pajamas you decided to wear, your face peaceful and expression soft as you slept - he imagined you in his shower, the room filled with warm steam and the scent of your shampoo, water hitting your skin as you-

Riley barked, making Simon jolt where he stood. She stared at him, ears turned to the side as she whined. She could always tell when he began to dissociate, and knew just as much as he did that it wasn't a good sign.

Simon sighed, running a hand down his face. "Get it together, fuckin' creep." He muttered to himself. "I need a bloody hobby, f' Christ's sake..."

He blamed it on the upcoming mission. He would typically stress about it beforehand, and if there was anything else that could occupy his mind, he would fixate on it. Right now, unfortunately, you were the victim. But he buried it deep down into his subconscious - it wasn't fair to you.

He pushed himself off of the door and headed towards the washroom, adjusting his crotch as he went. He figured he should at least tidy it up a bit, since you would be using it. The only other people who had been in there were Johnny and Captain Price, and of course, they never cared if there were trimmers on the counter, or if the mirror had splotches from toothpaste residue.

Hopefully, he'd forget all about you - at least, while he was on the mission.

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

Taglist: @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @jisungswiftie @sweet-tooth4you @kennyis-aloser @hyyyxr @lahniu @dory-98 @naradae

Let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost #simon riley x reader smut #ghost x reader smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #cod fanfiction #cod mw3 #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod x reader

[writingoddess1125]

Carbon Copy

Mihawk x FemReader + OOC Alucare

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Old Men Series <- Click to read more

It had been far too long out at sea, especially with the growing irritation of Mihawk and Alucare- Maybe It was their personalities being too similar or the fact they were training daily but had to be careful. However it looked like two monsters about to Duke it out any day- You sitting there trying to keep the peace.

But finally the 3 {almost 4} Of you made it to the Grand Line and Kuraigana Island- You didn't know what to expect... but it sure wasn't nightmarish hellscape with a dark castle!?

Alucare and You standing there on the docked ship staring up at the Gloomy place- Your son slowly turning to look at his father.

"Are you some vampire we don't know about?-"

Mihawk sighed at this and gave a half glare to Alucare.

"No... it is ruins of the Muggy Kingdom that I have converted into my home" The two Dracule men glared at each other and you knew then.. this wasn't going to be as positive as you hoped.

It had been some weeks since arriving at Mihawks home and you had hoped the tension would disperse between Mihawk and Alucare.. but it honestly just got worse somehow? Maybe it was a father son thing but it seemed now both were fighting over everything- Food, Books, and even for your attention.

"I am warning you now Alucare- If you continue your attitude I will take something of value to you" Mihawk said with a narrowed gaze- The teenager cocking his head to the side in almost amusement.

However most recent was Perona, The young women taking a liking to Alucare who was the younger version of Mihawk in her eyes- While she was still too old for him, That didn't keep Alucare from flirting and trying. Much to Mihawks ire...

The older male taking Alucare out to training one day- Glaring at his spawn.

"Alucare- I do not appreciate you trying to flirt with my pupil... Not only is she too old for you, I know you're doing this to irritate me" Mihawk spoke calmly, Alucare giving a emotionless stare.

"Whatever do you mean?" He said calmly, Mihawk taking a breath.

"Oh? What like taking me away from the place I was raised? my mother? Throwing me across an island?" Alucare said with some venom in his tone. Mihawk taking a breath through his nose to calm himself.

"You son of a bitch!!!" You heard Alucare shout from his room, Mihawk smirking slightly as he sipped his coffee. You heard Alucare rapid footsteps march right to the kitchen area and you gasped at the sight- Alucare long hair had been cut- While before his hair was down to his waist it was just past his shoulders and fairly evenly cut, The shortness making the thick hair spike more and it reminding you of Mihawks more natural hair.

"Alucare- I am being serious. Stop it with Perona and stop testing me.." He demanded, Alucare giving a smirk at the man.

"Or what?" He said calmly, Mihawk feeling something snap inside of him.

"..." The older man just nodded and ended the training then and there- The rest of the night being oddly quiet between the two..

By Mornibg you had started breakfast and was talking to Mihawk when you heard it-

"Mihawk you didnt-?!" You start, Glaring at the male who continued to sip his coffee.

"Hm?- I warned him... if he kept up the disrespect I'd take something precious of his as punishment-"

"SO YOU CHOSE MY HAIR!? YOU CRAZY MOTHERFUCKER!" Alucare yelled in pure rage, Mihawk smiled at his choice of wording and winked.

"Yes that is a fair insult- I am a Mother Fucker" He said calmly setting down his teacup and picking up his newspaper to read. You groaning in your hands in both embrassment and irritation at your partner. Alucare was red in the face from anger and marched outside angrily and slamming the doors behind him- He was most likely going to train somewhere far away from the island.

"Must you antagize him Hawks?.. that was way to famn far and you know it-" You start now mad and standing up from the dinning room table.

"No- I'm giving him something he needs and something I didn't have-" Mihawk said calmly, this making you huff in frustration.

"Oh and what is that?!" You place your hands on your hips, feeling that the hormones were working you up and ready to bite Mihawks head off.

"The opportunity to be a teenager-" And just like that he took the wind from your sails... confusion being written on your face at his words.

"You said it yourself.. Alucare acts just like me- From the stoic attitude to hiding one's emotions... He has matured far too early for his age to protect you- But taking away his need to be strong for you, it's allowing him to express bottled up emotions and act as he should for a 16 year old.. Is he angry? Yes. Is he being dramatic? Absolutely. However it's better for him to express these in a environment that can handle it and then be taught how to work through them.... then to never feel them at all again-" Mihawk said truthfully and with a twinge of regret in his voice. Your heart Sinking as the realization of this all hit you...

Mihawk was wanting to let Alucare experience teenage emotions since he was never able to and help him grow as a person.. Mihawk didn't want his son to be like him- But better then him..

Sitting down you felt your eyes water.

You didn't see Alucare that night- or the next night. While you were shaken with worry Mihawk had insisted that Alucare was fine and he had checked in him from time to time- simply camping out on the north side of the island.

By the second night you went to the study and saw Mibawk drinking his normal wine, Seeing what looked to be a cheese and fruit board prepared as well.

"Ah (Y/N) thank you for the wine and snacks" Mihawk said calmly, finishing off the last cracker and cheese. You didn't remeber setting them out yet- But you usually did so it wasn't a huge surprise especially if you forgot.

"Hm I guess I forgot I did that- But no problem honey" You kiss his cheek and he smiled up at you touching your rounded stomach.

"It's normal- What did you call it? 'Pregnancy Brain?'" You nodded and smiled quite pleased he'd remembered. After some brief conversation Mihawk yawned and tried to shake the sleep away- He looked more tired then usual, Rubbing his eyes as he finishes his final glass of wine.

"Hm.. I'm exhausted" He mumbled, you watching as he seemed a bit uneasy on his feet when standing. You assumed he had drunk too much so it wasn't surprising, so the two of you walked back to the bedroom and he fell asleep quickly and soundly that night, you following suit soon after.

Unknown to both of you a pair of yellow eyes was watching the whole time-

The next morning you were the first one up, deciding Mihawk could sleep in and headed downstairs. Much to your surprise to see Alucare- bathed and dressed with his hair in a short low ponytail. Cooking a nice and large breakfast.

"Sweetie you're back!" You said cheerfully and kissed your sons cheeks. He smiled softly, finishing cooking.

"Couldn't miss the show" He said almost cheerfully, you raising a questioning eyebrow at this as you made a plate for yourself.

Perona was the next down, Chatting mindlessly with Alucare and even saying his hair didn't look bad either. Which he clearly appreciated but you could tell his mind was elsewhere- Soon the heavy footsteps of Mihawk approaching alerted all of you.

"Morning-" You heard Mihawk start as he stepped in the kitchen and it was like someone threw bricks at you all..

Perona choked on her eggs suddently and started to cough hard as she turned away. Your jaw dropped as a surprised shriekd left you- damn near dropped your plate as well, Alucare sitting there with a smirk on his face as he ate another bite of his breakfast calmly.

"M-Mihawk.. Honey" You start, The tired man looking at you confused at your reactions.

"Are you okay? Is something wrong?... I do apologize you had to make breakfast- I feel drowsy for some reason.." Mihawk admitted as he rubbed his temple to try and ease the drowsiness away.

"I'll be out training..." Alucare said calmly as he stood up and left the kitchen quickly. Perona now starting to laugh which confused Mihawk more-

"Your face... oh my God your face" You manage out and cover your mouth- Unsure if you should laugh or cry first.

"My what?-" Mihawk said quickly and went to the closest mirror which was in the hallway and stared at himself. There he saw it- half his facial hair had been shaved off paired with an eyebrow and some very nice pen work which had 'Dickhead' on his forehead with a detailed cock on his cheek.

It then clicked- The wine and snacks... The little fucker must have drugged him and did this to him while he slept-

"..."

You closed your eyes and sighed, practically feeling Mihawks anger from the hallway and you prayed your son would survive whatever was about to happen- Especially when Mihawks voice boomed across the castle and island.

"ALUCARE!!"

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #hawkeye mihawk #mihawk x reader #one piece mihawk #dracule alucare #dad!mihawk #dracule mihawk #mihawk #op mihawk

[idiopath-fic-smile]

more Singin' in the Rain ot3, now on the honeymoon boat

part one

part two

The ship was a grand one. Cosmo, whose nautical knowledge began and ended with that Douglas Fairbanks picture about pirates, could tell that much. There was a majestic dining room and a wide, clean promenade and state-of-the-art engines that would get them to Europe in just a few days. The dining room even featured a four-piece band, who were a little stiff but not half bad.

His room, his island of privacy away from Don and Kathy and their combined magnetic pull, was bigger than he expected, well-appointed. It went a little overboard embracing an Egyptian theme, although the decorators had tastefully stopped short of including an actual mummy in a giant stone sarcophagus. He was grateful for that. The piano, as promised, sat in the place of where a desk might normally be, keys gleaming invitingly.

There was just one problem.

“How,” said Cosmo, dropping onto the bed, “did you manage to accidentally book us two adjoining rooms?”

“I’m sorry,” said Don, crossing his arms. “There must’ve been a mix-up at the offices.”

“Maybe the travel agent heard wrong on the telephone,” said Kathy. She rubbed Don’s back consolingly. Don shot her a grateful look. It was all very sweet, probably.

“How?” said Cosmo again. “Nothing sounds like ‘adjoining.’ It doesn’t even have a rhyme.”

“Are you certain?” said Kathy.

Cosmo nodded; he’d already run through the alphabet, twice. “The closest I can get to is ‘disappointing.’” Don was leaning into Kathy’s back rub like a cat, but his face was full of uncatlike guilt. “Don,” said Cosmo, “look, pal, I appreciate the free ticket, but please tell me you’ll fix this.”

“I already talked to the cruise director and there aren’t other rooms,” said Don. “We’re out in the ocean, what do you want me to do, alert the coast guard?”

“Alert the coast guard,” said Cosmo, “flag down a passing mermaid, strike a bargain with Poseidon himself!” 

“Who?” said Don.

“The Greek god of the sea,” said Kathy, like that was the important part.

“I don’t speak any Greek,” Don replied, “do you?”

“I will swim to shore,” Cosmo said, to nobody in particular.

“We can swap over to a different ship when we get to port if we need to,” said Don, shoulders slumping uncharacteristically. He must’ve felt worse about his screw-up than he let on. “In the meantime, the door locks from both sides, so—”

“I’m not—worried that you’ll barge in at all hours pestering me for a cup of sugar,” Cosmo broke in.

Don blinked. Kathy went very still beside him.

Out loud, it sounded more suggestive than he’d meant. Why had he picked sugar, the sauciest ingredient of the baking world?

“Or flour,” he amended.

“Then what’s the trouble?”

“I.” Cosmo sighed. “Why am I the only person in this room who seems to know what a honeymoon is for?”

“Why,” said Don, wide-eyed, “what’s it for?”

“D’you think, if I jumped in the sea and started paddling now—” said Cosmo.

“Don’t worry,” said Kathy. “Don and I can be very quiet.”

And the trouble was, this was worse. The prospect of hearing them from the other side of a single thin door was one thing, and honestly it was plenty bad—Cosmo had played a role during several key moments of their courtship but at least he could say he didn’t know what they sounded like in the throes of passion—but for reasons that Cosmo did not feel like examining, the thought of them stifling themselves in the act, the thought of them naked in bed together, touching each other, biting down on a giggle or a moan, and whispering, ‘Shh, don’t wake Cosmo,’ made him feel like his whole stomach was a sore tooth.

“Don’t put yourselves out on my account,” he told them. Belatedly, he realized that was maybe the worst thing he could’ve said. He blushed, and then he stood, face still flaming—Damn his Irish complexion—nodded to them both, and fled to the promenade.

.

The ocean stretched in all directions as far as Cosmo could see. It was dizzying, and also strangely calming. He stared out at the waves and reminded himself, hardly for the first time, that it wasn’t Don’s fault how Cosmo felt about him. It wasn’t Don’s fault, and it wasn’t Kathy’s fault that she was maybe the most charming woman he’d ever met. You could certainly blame Don for booking the rooms, for not double-checking over the telephone, but there was no malice to it. They were both, at the end of the day, wonderful people who had decided to open this trip up to him for whatever reason, and besides, his bed was piled with any number of pillows he could jam over his head if they did make noise at night.

He stood there holding onto the railing for a long time. Eventually, he heard footsteps behind him. 

“Feeling better?” said Don quietly, almost lost under the roar of the water. Without really trying to, Cosmo turned to look at him. Under his coat, Don was wearing a nicer suit than before, and the color had returned to his face. He looked—well, he looked like a handsome movie star married to a gorgeous starlet. Don took a few steps and rested his hands next to Cosmo’s on the rail.

“It’s the salt air, I think,” said Cosmo, nodding. “Feels like I could do anything. Why, I might write another musical, wear my trousers baggy, become a pirate.”

“Your trousers are fine as is,” said Don.

Cosmo shrugged. “A little change can be good.”

“Sure, unless it isn’t.” Don sighed. It was an awfully sad sigh to be having about the fit of a guy’s pants, Cosmo thought, but then Don turned to him and added, “You know, we really have missed you.”

“Don,” said Cosmo patiently. “I was at your house this Thursday. I stayed for three hours. I drank all your gin.”

Don didn’t make a crack about the gin, which was probably a bad sign. “And before that?” 

Before that, it had been a while. Cosmo winced inwardly. “I’ve been busy,” he said, “you’ve been busy, Kathy’s been busy—”

“We invited you over, four different times,” Don interjected. “If I’ve done something, if we’ve done something, I wish you would just tell us.”

In front of them, the sea rolled and rolled. Cosmo thought about deflection, about twisting the moment into a joke, a sword duel where cold steel met only an outstretched rubber chicken: squeak.

He let out a long breath. “Why the Hell did you bring me along on your honeymoon?”

“We brought you along because we wanted you along,” said Don. “Whenever you’re not there, we wish you were. It doesn’t need to be any harder than that.”

“So it isn’t…” Cosmo started.

“What?” “You and Kathy aren’t having problems? Hoping for a buffer, or a distraction?” It was a very new theory on Cosmo’s part, and once the words had left his mouth, he realized how badly they fit the facts at hand.

Don smiled a private little smile. “Me and Kathy are doing just marvelously.”

“That’s splendid,” said Cosmo, because he had to say something, apparently. Marvelous didn’t bode well for Cosmo’s sanity at night, but it beat his friends being sad. “Lovely.” He let his cadences drift into a so-so British accent. “Capital show, old sport. Tip-top. Simpy spiffing.” Not his best work. 

Don lay a hand on Cosmo’s coat sleeve, at the elbow. “Do you want to come to dinner with us?” he said. “It’s meant to be a formal affair but you’ve still got time to change.”

Whenever you’re not here, we wish you were. Obviously, Don didn’t mean “whenever” in the strictest sense—Cosmo got the feeling he was not present in Don’s mind, say, when Don was in bed with his beautiful wife—but the thought now made him feel warmer than the gin had. It would be enough. It had to be.

“Sure,” said Cosmo, “why not,” and Don thumped him encouragingly on the back.

“Cosmo,” said Don as they headed back into the body of the boat, “piracy, really?” Cosmo grinned. “Don’t blame me, blame that salt air. Makes a man feel like anything’s possible.”

.

Kathy and Don looked enchanting at dinner, and Cosmo cleaned up alright too, if he didn’t say so himself.

The food was good—salmon with hollandaise sauce and French beans, braised duckling with apple sauce, some fancy beef thing, salad Dumas and ice cream for dessert—and the band had relaxed a smidge and was playing something from this century, which was nice.

Over dessert, Kathy told them about how, one night several months before meeting Don, she’d been at a speakeasy during what turned out to be a police raid.

“What were you doing in a speakeasy?” Cosmo asked before he could stop to think about it.

“Why, drinking milk and reading Austen, of course,” she replied, a picture of guilelessness. Don snickered, and she grinned.

“I walked full-speed into that one,” said Cosmo.

“Buddy, you ran,” said Don.

“I was drinking,” Kathy acknowledged, nodding, “but really that’s where the best dancing is. The best music, too.”

Cosmo, who lately only drank at parties or at home because it was easier and safer, nodded thoughtfully.

“Hot jazz?”

“The hottest, at least in Los Angeles. Once we’re back, we should all go!”

“I could always stand to take in more culture,” said Cosmo.

“Oh no,” said Don, “don’t let her pull you into her sordid past. Did you forget the end of the story is ‘and then the police came?’”

“That’s more the middle,” said Kathy. “Well, middle-end.”

“So how’d you escape the reaching arm of the law?” Cosmo asked.

Kathy swallowed her ice cream. “I saw the police were all rushing in through the front door, and I dashed to the back and through the performers’ dressing room. I’d done makeup for some of my school plays, so I fought my way up to the mirror, grabbed a grease pencil—a few lines here, a few lines there—borrowed an old coat of the back of a chair, ran maybe half a block, and pretended to be an old lady.”

“Really,” said Cosmo.

“It’s mostly in the walk and the posture,” she said. “And it helps that a few of the street lights were out.”

“And the cops were fooled?”

“One of them asked me if I’d seen any young people running that way,” said Kathy.

Cosmo clapped his hands together with glee. “Don, you married a criminal mastermind! Never make her angry.”

Don wrapped an arm around her shoulders and flashed her a besotted look. “I don’t intend to.”

Kathy nestled into the half-embrace. “Tell me more about—was it Coyoteville? With the ventriloquist.”

“Dead Man’s Fang,” said Cosmo. “And your wish is my command, but I don’t know what else there is to say. We came, we saw, we lost our sleeping arrangements to a puppet.”

“He tucked it in that night, remember?” said Don suddenly.

“He did!” said Cosmo, delighted.

Sometimes when Don started in on the official line about how they’d studied at the conservatory and the rest of that baloney, Cosmo worried that some part of Don believed it, that it was Cosmo’s job alone to remember how long they’d traveled that strange, bumpy, often farcical road together towards some measure of success and respectability in Hollywood. But Cosmo had completely forgotten that particular detail. He had burned it from his mind.

“After he fell asleep, one of you might have moved the dummy and claimed that bed,” Kathy pointed out.

“He left it with the head turned facing us, eyes open,” said Don. “Neither of us were touching that thing.”

“So instead, Cosmo had to put up with Don all night,” said Kathy solemnly.

“So instead, I had to put up with Don all night.”

He could still recall the potent mix of resignation, terror, and guilty excitement he’d felt, huddling up on that mattress together. Their act at the time had involved being in close quarters a lot—at one point, the choreography had Cosmo leap onto Don’s back and then immediately continue playing the fiddle—so it wasn’t like touching Don was a novelty, back then. But doing it offstage, out of costume, away from any onlookers except for Esther Quill the ventriloquist dummy, it had felt like an entirely different proposition. 

Don had been a real champ about it, though. When Cosmo had started shaking with withheld hilarity that this was his life, the punchline of all punchlines and nobody to share it with, not just Don’s best friend but his literal bedwarmer, Don had clearly assumed it was a simple case of the shivers, and so he’d bundled Cosmo close, tucked Cosmo’s head under his chin, and wrapped his arms around him, muttering warm in his ear about how if Cosmo dropped dead, Don was out a dance partner “and that whole routine wouldn’t work as a solo number, it’d go over like a brick.”

“Just imagine what barnyard animal they’d have you opening for then,” Cosmo had whispered back, because Oatmeal, Nebraska had already happened to them. “A pig who juggles. A cow acrobat. A chicken magician. Just a little sleight of wing, folks, nothing up my feathers.”

And Don had laughed, and held Cosmo tighter, and the ventriloquist had shushed them, which had made them both crack up again. It had been a long night, and not one Cosmo would forget in a hurry.

“Who runs hot as a Holland furnace, let me tell you,” he added now, in case his tone had shifted a few shades too close to dreamy.

“Oh, I know,” said Kathy, smiling.

Don raised an accusing finger at him. “Well, you were shaking like a leaf! You’re lucky I was there, especially when we didn’t have so much as a sheet of our own!”

“Wait, why didn’t you have any blankets?” asked Kathy.

“The blankets,” said Don airily, “were for the puppet.”

.

And so dinner had been a joy, and after that, Don and Kathy invited him back to their room for a drink or two, because they’d had the common sense to bring alcohol, which was of course not offered by the cruise. The three of them sat on Don and Kathy’s bed (much bigger than Cosmo’s—not that he was jealous, he didn’t need the space, but the sheer expanse of mattress really did rival a small country, and Cosmo was determined not to picture in any detail how the two newlyweds might make use of that) and passed a flask around and had some more laughs and when Cosmo next got a glimpse of his watch, it was three in the morning.

“I should go,” he said.

“You don’t have to,” said Kathy. She’d shucked off her heels at some point and now her stocking feet were in Cosmo’s lap. Don sat on her other side, head on her shoulder. He’d loosened his tie early on, and his suitcoat was draped over one of the bedposts. While they were drinking, it had all felt very natural. Looking at them now, Cosmo had the sense he was intruding on something private, something intimate.

Granted, they weren’t exactly trying to kick him out, but Kathy was drunk, or tired, or else she was both drunk and tired, and it was up to Cosmo not to outstay his welcome. They had a whole two weeks together, after all, and their rooms were barely a wall apart.

“My regrets, Cinderella,” said Cosmo, “but I can feel myself turning back into a pumpkin.” 

He made as if to stand, but her feet were in the way. Very gently, he picked up her ankles, lifted them off his legs, stood, turned her like they were doing some sort of a dance move, and deposited her feet in Don’s lap instead.

“There,” he said to no one. 

A long pause followed. Don and Kathy blinked up at him. He sorely regretted moving her. It had seemed like the most elegant solution. Probably he should’ve found one that didn’t involve taking hold of her legs, skin warm through the thin layer of nylon–

Kathy’s brow furrowed. “What makes you the carriage?” she said at last.

“What?” said Cosmo, who really did need to make an exit. 

“Cinderella,” said Don, apparently reading her mind, which was swell for them.

“Better that than the mouse footman,” Cosmo told her. “Or the lizard coachman. Or the horse.” Or—who else? There were a lot of characters in Cinderella, he realized.

“There’s a prince in that story, Cosmo,” said Kathy. “A human prince.”

“Yes,” said Cosmo, patiently, “and you’re married to him, your highness,” He sketched a little bow but Don and Kathy weren’t looking at him. They were having one of those silent couple conversations, with mostly their eyes and eyebrows. A career in movies before the advent of sound had probably given Don a real advantage in that department, Cosmo thought, although Kathy seemed to be holding her own.

“It’s a made-up fairytale,” Kathy said at last. “Why, it can go any way you want it to.”

“The lady’s got a point,” said Don.

Cosmo blinked. He knew how it sounded, knew that to the untrained ear, it certainly—there were overtones, or undertones, or just plain tones that vibrated with suggestion. Cosmo had grown up in Vaudeville and now he lived in Hollywood; these things happened every now and then. These things did not happen to Cosmo. He was good for a dance or a laugh, and nine times out of ten, that was enough for him, but he wasn’t exactly fending off amorous advances—not like Don, and probably not like Kathy, either.

Also, Don liked women. Don only liked women, as far as Cosmo knew, and they had lived out of each other’s pockets for years.

The fact that a late-night ménage à trois rendezvous was increasingly the only explanation that held water in his head—it said more about Cosmo’s fragile mental state than it did about Don and Kathy’s true motives, he decided.

Don and Kathy who were still sitting on the bed, waiting for some sort of response.

“I wouldn’t, uh,” Cosmo started, and then realized with a stab of panic that for once, he didn’t have a joke in the wings, waiting to go. “I wouldn’t know where to start,” he said.

“You said earlier today you might become a pirate,” Don offered. Kathy cuddled up close against his side, watching with bright, intent eyes. He wrapped an arm around her waist. “Enter pirate, stage left.”

“I said I was thinking about it,” said Cosmo, trying not to sound affected and missing by a mile. “A fella can think about all kinds of things he wouldn’t do.”

Case in point: Cosmo was not about to climb back into bed with them, no matter how cozy that bed was, no matter how warm and inviting and beautiful the two of them looked together.

His hands were starting to shake, he realized, and if Don saw that, and past experience was any judge, Cosmo might spend the night being cuddled for warmth again. What was Cosmo’s life? He didn’t go in for horoscopes, but maybe he should’ve, maybe that was the key to understanding the whole puzzle: Cosmo Brown, born under the one constellation that resembled clown shoes. He swallowed back a hysterical laugh and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

“Why not?” said Kathy quietly.

Because he didn’t want to ruin his oldest friendship and his most promising new one, all in a single go. Because he hated rejection, and the thought of two no’s that close together made his head spin unpleasantly. Because then there would be no more innocent touches and smiles and nightcaps in Don and Kathy’s room. 

That wasn’t what she’d asked, though. Mentally, he shook himself.

“If everyone who thought about being a pirate became one, the whole US of A would fall apart,” Cosmo informed them. “Nobody would work, or pay taxes, or go to see films. Not to mention the national parrot shortage—just try to get ahold of birdseed anymore! There’d be a run on eyepatches and tri-corner hats, and the price of a simple pirate earring would shoot through the roof, in fact—”

“It’d cost a buccaneer,” Don filled in. He sounded almost sad, which was a mystery because that bit was evergreen.

“That’s right,” said Cosmo. He rocked back onto his heels, at a loss for a moment. He’d really been counting on that joke to clear the air.

“Cosmo,” said Kathy. “Do you want to go, or do you want to want to go?”

Cosmo struggled to make sense of that. He struggled to parse it in a way that worked outside his own feverish imagination. His entire mind came up short. That was where it got you, going on the road with only an eighth grade education, he thought. His was a cautionary tale. 

Maybe ninth grade was where they taught you how not to twist a moment in your head to the point where it really did seem like maybe Cosmo could’ve kissed either of them, could’ve kissed both of them, and it would’ve been fine, or even more than fine. Maybe it was that, and Dickens, and Geography; Cosmo still could not locate Siam on a map. Or Paris. Come to think of it, ménage à trois and rendezvous were the only French he knew besides bonjour. This time, he did laugh. It was that or scream.

“I am both too drunk, and not drunk enough for this talk,” he said, turning for the door that led directly back to his room.

“If you’d rather stay—” said Don.

“Of course I’d rather stay, Don,” Cosmo snapped, sharper than he’d meant to. “But leave me enough dignity to fill half a shotglass, at least.” Don and Kathy said nothing. When he got to the door, he sighed. “Sorry, that was—I’m sorry. See you at breakfast.” “Goodnight,” said Kathy.

Alone in his room, Cosmo closed the door and ran his hands through his hair. Pirates in Cinderella, he thought. Offers to stay, with his room not 30 paces away, at three hours past midnight. Maybe it would all make sense in the morning.

#singin in the rain ot3

[featureenvyproductions]

here’s a bird’s eye view of my comic Eyan Eternal

For people who don't know what it is. Bc I think some of you might find it's right up your alley. Well this is an updated one anyway. I do actually have a volume of this out in print right now, but the low def, basic version is online and complete, and tbh, I just want people to read it. I took almost two years to complete this and quite literally poured every waking moment (after work and when I wasn’t fixing stuff in my house) into this to try and finish it.

Ahem

Here is one of these at a glance things! 

If that’s enough to intrigue you, take a look at my chapter masterpost which has convenient links to every chapter post so you don’t have to go figuring out where they are and what order they go in!: https://www.tumblr.com/featureenvyproductions/717516139934154752/eyan-eternal-tumblr-chapter-masterpost?source=share

If you like it and want to support me you can also buy a copy of the first print volume, which collects chapters 1-5 and has a smidge of bonus content (only available in the US right now, but that’s not going to be forever, and I’m working on an e-book as well): https://www.etsy.com/FeatureEnvy/listing/1447399615/eyan-eternal?utm_source=Copy&utm_medium=ListingManager&utm_campaign=Share&utm_term=so.lmsm&share_time=1683565699335

And now here is a more detailed break down if you need more info than that...

*Jonathan Frakes asks you things meme voice* have you ever wondered what you’d find if you REALLY lived forever?

Well, meet Eyan, an immortal vampire.

He’s slowly finding out the answer to that question...

...And it appears to be unbearable isolation.

Eons into the distant future, when most stars have faded in the night sky and the cosmic event horizon has confined any remaining beings to an isolated pocket of the universe, Eyan roams interstellar space in a repurposed generation ship in search of anything that could be considered alive/sentient in the way he is.

So far, he’s out of luck.

That is until he runs into an unexpected former rival on a remote planet - Zero, a sentient android he never expected to be the only other person left alive.

Well. That is, if either of them can really be considered “alive”. What does that mean anyway, when the humans who defined what it means to be alive are all gone?

This is something they’ll have to explore and define for themselves as they attempt to set aside their myriad of differences and try to work together on one of the few ways left to escape the dark fate of ultimate isolation - The Grand Encoder, a machine that can upload minds to a special medium - if it even works for them anyway. In the process, they slowly come to accept that maybe they’d had each other all wrong and weren’t seeing the bigger picture.

You may not find any action-packed Star Wars like escapades here in this sci fi drama. You also won’t find ponderings about the origins of vampires or what gave rise to robot sentience - It’s integral to the plot that these things just ARE. But you will find a thoughtful exploration of identity and how it can cause us to define ourselves and relate to (or abandon) each other depending on the framework within which we are doing that exploration and within which we are compelled to exist. It asks the question, what if the frameworks within which we defined our existence and purpose no LONGER existed...Where would we go from there?

And as two immortal guys who are the only folks left in the universe (as far as they know), Eyan and Zero are just the right people to mull over that.

There is both textual and allegorical queerness in this story - both main characters should be considered gay men, even if it’s The Future TM and terms/exact scopes of identities may not be EXACTLY 1-1 with today’s...But I want to be perfectly clear that it was my intent to make them gay because I wanted to see more gay guys in sci fi and I don’t want anyone erasing that. As for the allegorical stuff - I myself am a trans gay man in my late 30s, so this act of re-exploring and re-framing myself and evaluating how and why queer folks interact with each other the way we do is something I’m very familiar with, and I feel like other folks might relate. (I also peppered in some neurodivergent-person-in-a-neurotypical-world moods tbh.)

Of course it’s not all serious. I do have a bit of fun with some old school vampire tropes, tossing Eyan around and putting him in Situations.

Anyway if this all sounds interesting to you, take a look at my tag and site (above)! I’d appreciate it! I also like to hear from people and see if there’s anything about it you related to! :)

I also do everything. Every last monotonous step (well, aside from literally loading up a printing press to churn out volumes lol - BUT REST ASSURED IF I HAD $10K TO PISS INTO THE WIND I WOULD DO THAT TOO). So if there’s ANYTHING you want to know about my process, I’m happy to tell you so please ask, especially if you’re like trying to get started on your own comic or trying to go to print :) 

Edit before I go ahead and blaze this: I want to say, to be honest, the creation of comic was initially motivated almost entirely by the isolation/loneliness I’ve felt in my life. It’s not as bad as some folks’ and I know that, but it is a really prevalent thread throughout my life and sometimes is almost unbearable, and my comic began as an exploration of that loneliness, as well as a narrative exercise to try and express the depth of it at its worst point. I’m putting this out here because ultimately I don’t know...maybe someone will catch my drift and understand the feeling I’m trying to illustrate, and maybe they’ll want to see the plot that came of those feelings. I am not above the need to feel seen lol, especially if other people out there feel like they can resonate with this experience as well.

#Eyan Eternal #my comic #vampire #robot #queer sff #indie comic #indie artist

[heartfullofleeches]

I am politely asking for you to write about Erin cross dressing please

(Going off an old request I vaguely remember with Erin overhearing you like feminine guys)

"They're so cute- Hey, Y/n what do you like in a partner?"

Erin leans back in his seat away from the commotion at his table to eavesdrop on yours. You were surrounded by friends flapping their gums over someone one of them was interested in - put on the spot for not giving your two cents.

"Uh, I don't know- someone pretty I guess."

"You mean like those people you follow who wear nice makeup and skirts?"

Your coughing fit is enough of an answer for everyone listening in on the conversation. Erin returns to his group, subconsciously groping his features. He had some softer details thanks to his mother, but was he what others would call pretty? The tingle in his chest combated the nausea from eating school food at the thought of you praising his looks. He picks up a tater tot and chucks it at a girl across the table; it being the only way to get her attention otherwise.

She picks it out of her fruit cup. "What the hell, Erin?!"

"Shut up and give me your lip gloss, Bea."

"Why in the fuck would I do that?"

"I'll tell coach you're the one who stole her flask and replaced it with bleach for giving the lead spot in the parade to someone else."

Beatrix angrily shifts through her bag. "Here."

"Thank you." He tosses her his unopened cup as he gets up from the table and heads to the bathroom. He stops by the janitor's closet and jimmies the broken lock until it pops open, grabbing the out of order sign. He wants for everyone to come out of the restroom and sets the sign up as he enters.

Erin reevaluates himself in the mirror. His long hair did confuse the older crowd when they saw him from a distance. He tucks it all into a high ponytail using a spare bracket as a band. Next, he pulls out the cheerleader's makeup. This isn't his first time with the stuff. Both his mom and older sibling dressed him up in the past whenever he asked about their clothes and was interested in trying them. He let his mother put eye shadow on him whenever they went out as a family.

Erin dispenses some of the gloss on his finger, puckering his lips as he cakes them in the foundation. He smacks them together to even the coat out and looks at the results in the mirror.

It's a start. The gloss is barely noticeable outside bright light, but it adds a little more volume to his lips. He goes back in to work on other parts of himself, but the bell cuts his session short.

"Shit!"

Erin hurries out of the bathroom and down to the cafeteria; forgetting about the sign in his haste. The dining area is nearly empty by the time he gets back, and you didn't have the next period together. He looks back to see if you've already gone, the next person to walk by bumping straight into him.

"Sorry- Oh, hey Erin."

"Sup."

You look him up and down. Erin's teeth pick at his lips in anticipation.

"Not much. You look good. See you next period."

The light force of you walking by almost knocks Erin off his feet. You said something nice about him. He didn't think he'd get this far. Maybe a passing glance, but you completely acknowledge him. You thought he looked good. It was a high he never wanted to fall from. One he craved more of with only one possible solution.

-

Erin hisses in pain as the teeth of his skirt's zipper lodge into his skin. "Fucking damn it-"

He pulls the fabric away from his hip and zips it up; kicking an empty shipping box under his bed. It sticks out of the corner due to the other packages overcrowding the space, but he was too excited to take care of them now or throughout the week they all had arrived. The skirt was the final piece of his outfit which also took the most time to arrive. Erin hooks mini pearl earrings in his ears and pulls his shirt from inside the shirt before looking at himself in the full body mirror by his closet.

The outfit consisted of an off the shoulder light pink top and a black skirt that went down to his thighs. The rest of his legs were covered by white stockings and his ginger hair was yet again pulled back. He wore a more noticeable shade of gloss on his lips and his long eyelashes were extended with the use of a wand. His regular choker was switched with a red one with a heart shaped dog tag. He had muscle, but the skirt hugged his body in a way that showed off his curves. Staring at himself, Erin felt pretty. Time for the next phase.

Erin snaps a photo of him at the mirror. He then gets in his bed with his back against the headboard. He grabs a pillow and hugs it to his chest, tugging his shirt down a bit more as he gets into position. He makes sure that his stocking clad thighs are in frame as he takes another pic and pulls up his contact. He knew your number by heart from the various acquaintances he hustled it off of and when you gave it to himself yourself for a project, but what good boyfriend doesn't have their partner in their phone without a cute title?

Erin sends you the pictures without saying a word. He waits about five minutes to pick up his phone again, both happy and disappointed you haven't opened his text.

"Sorry for the pics. Lost a bet and sent them to the wrong number."

His heart leaps out of his chest as his phone chimes.

"No worries. Hope this is okay for me to say, but you look pretty."

It's more than okay. Erin stares at his phone for ages; eyes rolling over the message countless times yet his brain fails to retain it to memory. He'd probably explode if it did. He experiences a moment of clarity in wondering what your expression was when you saw him. Did you see him as desirable. Did you crave him as badly?

Luck worked in Erin's favor that night - for he may soon have an answer.

"Hey- actually, do you want to come over? I'm bored and thought we could hang out or something."

#Erin my oc #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere x you #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere bully #yandere drabble #soft yandere

[sparrowofthedawnsworld]

Princess Of The Prisoner - Pirate!Jake Kiszka AU

A/N: I’m BACK!! And god, is it good to be. I’ve missed you all so, so much. I thank you all for your patience and endless support. You all mean the world to me <3 I hope you all enjoy this - finally. I love you! (Only lightly edited for the moment).

WARNINGS: Semi-light Violence, bl00d, unconsciousness, fighting, use of weapons.

This is MAJOR 18+ Minors DNI! AT ALL. Bondage, kn!fe play, edging/orgasm denial, light overstimulation, fingering (F), oral (F&M receiving), choking, slapping, degradation, unprotected sex (be smart, be safe!)

Masterlist

•••

“I am no where near equipped for what you are asking of me.” You speak firmly to your father, fighting the intense urge to stomp your foot against the shiny, glassy floor like that of a child.

“If I didn’t see you fit, I would not send you.” Your father says to you, sounding just as sure of his plan as ever.

As always.

“I will not be used as bait for one of your enemies.” You straighten your back, holding his blazing and frustrated stare. “You’ve lost your sanity, father.”

“I have not asked you, I have told you what you are to do.” He remains stubborn and firm. “I expect him here no later than morning. Don’t disappoint me, dearest. Now, you best be off.”

Your face twists in the purest form of anger as you turn away from your father to leave him be at his throne. You storm across the palace, back to your own room.

“How could he put me in such a dangerous position?” you mutter to yourself, gathering up a new dress to change into for your days journey.

“Sending me off to find some god forsaken ship, to hunt down a man for him,” you continue to ramble to no one other than yourself and the over-decorated walls.

Or, so you think.

“Let me guess-“ The cook of your palace stands in your doorway. You have grown quite close with her, given she is one of the few women around anymore. “-You’re being sent off on a mission, per your father’s orders again?”

“Yes,” you sigh heavily, undoing your corset. “I must be off shortly. I’m essentially being used as bait for the captain of some ship, Jacob Kiszka.”

Her eyes look as though they are going to fall out of her head, “Do you not realize who that is, Princess?”

“I haven’t the first clue who he is, no,” you admit.

All you know is that his ship would be arriving sooner rather than later, and Jacob is after a specific sword of your father’s. You are not sure why the sword is so significant, all you know is that Jacob is indeed after it.

“I’m sure he’s some gross old man-“

“Far from it, actually. He’s quite young if I remember correctly,” she informs you, laughing lightly at your shocked expression.

“Young?” you scoff in disbelief. “There is no possible way…”

“Oh, but there is. He could only be a few years older than you,” she continues and laughs lightly at you, unintentionally adding to your frustration more. “Not to say that I am at all on board with your father using you, but I understand why he’s asked you. He’s just a young lad.”

“This is just absolutely ridiculous,” you huff. “Sending me off to capture some boy, who could probably still kill me with one hand, regardless of age!” Your arms flail around you in dramatic emphasis. “How do you even know this information about him?”

“He’s actually quite well known,” she answers, eyes falling to the floor. “But… how I know him personally is not relevant.”

A heavy silence falls over the two of you for a moment.

“I know very well that your father has taught you to be an incredible fighter,” she speaks up, softly breaking the silence. “…Perhaps if you’re truly so worried, you should take another man with you. Daniel, maybe?”

You think on her suggestion for a moment, ultimately deciding it isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Will you please retrieve him for me?”

“Of course, Princess.” She nods to you politely. “I should not distract you any further. Good luck to you, dear.. I shall send for Daniel for you at once.”

“Thank you,” you mumble under your breath, sending her a rather forced smile.

Gathering the rest of your things, you are going off to find Daniel yourself, but you realize he has finally come to you, by the soft knock at your door.

“Princess,” he greets with a charming nod of his head and a smile that can undoubtedly melt the coldest souls. “It was brought to me that you are in need of my assistance.”

“Yes,” you start, casting him your undivided attention, just as he is giving to you. “My father wants me to capture this Captain…Jacob Kiszka. He is after something of his and Father wants him taken care right away.”

“With all respect, Princess, shouldn’t you be demanding he send someone else to do such a job?” Daniel’s face turns immensely concerned and fearful on your behalf. “Jacob is a very skilled and clever man. You have no business-“

“-I’ve tried to change his mind all I can, but you know how he is,” you speak warily, cutting him off. “But that’s why I’ve asked for you. I would love for you to join me.”

Daniel’s eyes widen and the Adams apple of his throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly.

“Princess, I truly don’t think this is-“

“-I have no other choice, Daniel!” You firmly cut him off once again. “Now… Are you coming, or are you going to stay here as though you are some sort of coward?”

Daniel is far from a coward and you know that without a doubt, but you have to convince him somehow.

“When are we to depart?” He caves, speaking through a sigh of defeat.

“Right now.” You nod curtly, grabbing your belongings and walking right past him.

He mumbles to himself from behind you, taking long strides to keep up alongside you, “What have I gotten myself into…?”

“Just look at it as an adventure, Daniel,” you jest in attempts to lighten the mood.

“And suppose one of us gets hurt? What shall happen then?” Daniel questions rapidly, speeding up to reach the door of the palace before you. “Ah! Do not dare to touch that door.”

“I am about to capture a thief and you are concerned about me opening but a single door?” you chide lightly, cocking an eyebrow as he opens the door for you anyway.

You step out first, waiting patiently for him to follow after you.

“And stop thinking in such worrisome ways,” you add, once he joins at your side. “You are quite frankly putting a thorn in my side.”

Your light teasing brings a small smile to Daniel’s face and he huffs a soft laugh before changing the subject entirely.

“How would you like to travel, princess?”

“On foot,” you tell him, taking off in the direction of the area in which Jacob and his ship are suspected to be coming to.

He looks at you with shock filled eyes, “Alright, you are officially out of all of your senses.”

“It is not that far from here,” you roll your eyes, the pair of you walking farther away from the palace. “They’re going to anchor at the closest point they can, but far enough away as to not be perceived from the palace.”

“And how can you be so sure?” He’s full of never ending questions.

“Enough questions, Daniel, seriously,” you sigh in slight annoyance. “It would be in your best interest to simply trust me.”

The two of you walk in silence for quite some time, taking in the nature around you and putting mental marks on things that you walked by, as to not leave any chance of getting lost on your journey back.

“How much farther are we going, Princess?” Daniel breaks down and asks yet another question.

You open your mouth to answer him, but the sounds of various voices shouting about, swiftly interrupt you.

“Stop.” You place your hand out to stop Daniel in his tracks beside to you. “Voices. I hear voices. Do you hear them, Daniel?”

He looks around, listening intently and after a moment or two, the same shouting fills his ears as well.

“I hear them.” Daniel nods, confirming that you are not losing your sanity.

Quickly, you put your plan of attack into motion.

“Daniel, whatever you do, do not leave my side.” You tell him, giving a curt nod as you made your way towards the tree line that followed the edge of the river bank.

The closer you get, the louder the voices become and the more your nerves threaten to overtake you.

You and Danny make your way through the trees, stopping just out of view of the surprisingly nice ship haphazardly docked just before the shoreline.

A beautiful, fit and young man treads his way through the shallow water and up on to the sand, looking far more put together than the rest of the crew surrounding him.

“That must be him…” you point towards him, Daniel’s eyes following your index finger. He nods, confirming your guess.

“Princess, please, let me take care of this?” Daniel pleads quietly. “There are far too many of them to take on alone.”

“Nonsense. I shall do what I was sent to do,” you insist. “We must figure out how to capture him without the rest witnessing. They will surely come looking, if they see us leave with him.”

“Not to mention that we walked here,” Daniel reminds you. “I suppose that means I will be carrying him back, surely?”

“You have always been incredibly smart,” you tease and answer his question all at once.

“Now, then! Now, then!”

Soft gasps are shared between you and Daniel, as who you presume was Jacob, starts to loudly gather in his crew.

“Now that I have the undivided attention of all of you dandy crewmen, I shall be off in attempts to get in to the King’s palace at once!” he begins to explain, voice somehow much louder and firmer than you expected it to be. “I hate to break one’s heart, but all of you are to return to the ship and remain there until I return! I cannot risk my plans being tampered with. Am I clear to all of you?!”

They all express their understanding in almost perfect unison.

“That will be all, then! Please, return to the ship right away!”

Like well trained animals, everyone files back to the ship as Jake stands around to watch on, ensuring not one person is staying behind.

He is so breathtaking… It almost drowns out the hatred that you already hold for him.

You shake your intrusive thoughts of the captain away, putting on your brave face to continue on with a new plan.

“Come, Daniel!” you yell in a whisper, creeping your way back out of the trees.

“Come on!”

Once you both make it out, he begins his frantic questioning once more, “What ever are we doing now, princess?!”

“Hush,” you silence him. “We must go back towards the palace. I believe it best that we ambush him there.”

He simply shakes his head in understanding, glancing over his shoulder quickly to be sure no one has spotted either of you and is following.

You stop at the bushes near the entrance of the palace, breathing heavily and shaking your head in exasperation as the two of you duck down out of sight.

Daniel lets out a frustrated and tired huff. “We are back where we started, princess. I’m starting to question your oh-so elaborate planning.”

“You are being such a sore thumb today. I beg of you to just do as I say.” You send him a pleading look.

Silence fills the air around the two of you for a while, until the cracking of rocks beneath boots captures Daniel’s attention.

“Princess,” he nudges at your shoulder. “The Captain is upon us.”

You peak through the flowers and leaves, eyeing him as he makes his way carefully up the path.

You catch yourself gawking at him again; the way he walks, his long tresses and the beautiful dagger hanging from a strap across his chest.

“Your majesty, please,” Daniel begs, knocking you from your trance. “Please, tell me what you want me to do.”

“I… I want you to wait until he walks by us. If we stay here, he won’t see us right away. Once he passes, we will attack from behind. I need him unconscious,” you explain quickly. “Once he is unconscious, I will tie his hands and you shall help me carry him to the cells.”

Just as you finish and Daniel gives you his quick, verbal understanding, Jake passes through the gates and bushes, slowing his pace and ducking every so often to avoid possibly being seen.

“I will tell you when,” you whisper into Daniel’s ear and he nods once.

The captain walks a few more feet up the pathway, ducking down behind a rose bush and unsheathing his dagger from its case.

Daniel copies him, pulling his own dagger from its casing.

“Now,” you mutter with unbridled urgency.

Daniel has Jake plummeting to the ground within seconds. You watch on for only a moment, before fear takes over and you feel the need to join him.

Groans and curses are being hurled between them, swings and bone crushing punches being thrown along with their noises of pain.

Jake holds his dagger backwards, swinging the handle towards the side of Daniel’s head.

“NO!”

You bolt towards them, taking Jake to the ground upon your collision - sparing Daniel of the bone-crushing blow that was mere seconds away from colliding with the temple of his head.

Daniel recovers rather quickly, throwing you off of Jake and taking your place on top of him.

One strong and well-timed swing from Danial is all it takes and the Captain falls limp against the ground as he goes unconscious.

Daniel falls away from him, chest heaving and covered in small droplets of blood here and there. His hand clutches over his chest, as he fights to recenter himself.

“Are you alright?” you ask frantically, pulling the rope from around your waist and tying it securely around the Captain’s hands.

“Just perfect, Princess,” Daniel chuckles sarcastically, dusting himself off as he stands to his feet. “Here, allow me.”

“I think not.” You swat his hand away. “Rest for another moment. I will take care of this.”

Once you have the knots tied, you stand up and let Daniel take over again. He scoops him up like a rag doll, throwing him over his shoulder as though the Captain weighs little to nothing.

You bend down and pick up Jake’s dagger, shoving it down into your pocket and following after Daniel as he starts making his way up towards the palace.

“How long do you think he will stay unconscious?” you ask, making your way through the lower levels of the palace.

“Not much longer, I’m afraid.” Daniel answers, stopping at the large cell at the end of the cold, dimly lit hallway.

“Just put him on the bed. I shall take it from here.” You order rather gently, confident that he can’t hurt you from behind the bars of the cell.

“As you wish.”

Daniel drops him down onto the bed and unties him carefully, tossing the rope to the side thoughtlessly as he goes.

Just as he finishes Jake lets out a low groan of discomfort and Daniel quickly makes his was back out of the cell.

You close the door and lock it, watching Jake for a moment to find that he is still mostly out of it, when there isn’t another sound to be heard from him.

“Do you wish for me to inform your father that we have the Captain?”

“No!” You look up to Daniel with panic-filled eyes. “I will tell him myself. He doesn’t know that you accompanied me and I would rather him not.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Daniel says. “I shall keep my doings to myself.”

“I am most grateful for you,” you smile up at him, placing a gentle hand on his bicep. “Thank you.”

Removing your hand from his arm, Daniel brings it up to his lips in a gentle kiss as he bows, “You are most welcome, your majesty.”

He releases your hand, standing upright and beginning his way down the hallway.

Before he gets too far, he turns back to face you with a serious look. “Princess?”

You whip around to face him also, “Yes, Daniel?”

“If anything is to happen and you need my assistance again, you know where I reside.”

Not awaiting an answer - knowing you understand without having to say so out loud - he disappears through the large door. The loud sounds of it closing sends an eerie echo around the concrete walls and floor.

You slowly turn back towards the cell, watching and listening to Jake intently for any signs of movement or noise.

“Bloody hell,” Jake’s voice rumbles in a low groan, his arms struggling to push his weight away from the bed he is sprawled across.

He finally gets himself upright, looking around in a pure panic at his surroundings.

Stumbling up to his feet, he spins around and freezes in place when his eyes land upon you.

“Oh, well is this not just lovely?” you speak rather tauntingly. “The captain is finally awake.”

“And you are?” Jake saunters up to the door, rough hands wrapping around the cold bars.

“Princess of The Garden, at- well… I am not at your service,” you stumble over your formalities, forgetting that you owe him not a single one. “Not much of a kingdom we have around here, more so a small, royal family on secluded land.”

“I am very well aware of practically all of that.” Jake bites matter-of-factly, full of anger.

There are a few moments of intense silence, the loud and unsteady breathing from Jake being the only constant sound.

“Would you be so kind as to remind me how I managed to get here?” Jake questions bitterly, clearly trying to contain his rage.

“Me,” you smile at him with hardly contained pride. “Well, me and another accomplice.”

“Quite weak of you to have to bring a companion along just to capture me.” Jake smirks, his face noticeably contorting in discomfort as he assesses with his fingertips, the bruises that Daniel had left on his jaw. “Someone ought to teach you how to fight.”

“You know nothing about my fighting skills,” you say dryly, sending him a death glare through the bars of the cell. “I would be a fool to travel alone, regardless of how well I fight.”

“You seem to be a bit of a fool anyway,” Jake chuckles, glancing up at you with bold eyes.

If you could smack him across his careless mouth, you absolutely would.

“Letting your father send you into such danger…” Jake shakes his head, giving you a judgmental once-over. He turns and walks towards the hard bed in the corner. “You aren’t cut out for such violence.”

“I wish you would stop speaking as if you know me.” Your arms cross over your chest. It isn’t a very good response, but it is as good of one as you can seem to gather. “You know absolutely nothing about me.”

Jake ignores the comment entirely.

“If I may ask, why are you still lingering, princess?”

The name falling of his tongue is like a drug. The most addictive drug one could find. Somehow he makes the most flattering and important name, sound so degrading.

You stand frozen in place for a few moments too long, struggling to find a genuine reason for staying around - of which you do not have.

He hums to himself, head tilting back slightly, “Just as I thought. You haven’t any good reason.”

You open your mouth to attempt some sort of protest.

“If I may, your majesty,” Jake stands to his feet and saunters back to the door. “You are quite the gem. So exquisite and beautiful…” he trails off for a moment, a sly grin spreading over his lips as he looks over you. “Too bad you are too feisty and disobedient for my liking.”

Your whole body begins to boil with various emotions; you’re flustered, angry and immensely intrigued by him. He is setting you ablaze in a foul, but irresistible way.

“And… you are much too disrespectful for my taste,” you seethe, faltering for a moment so short, you hope it goes unnoticed. “Speaking to royalty in such a despicable manner…”

“And yet, the royalty herself, seems to be enjoying it.” Jake grins wickedly.

You can’t tell if it’s your body’s attempt to be intimidating, or seeking closer proximity to Jake. Regardless, without really thinking, you step forward, “What makes you believe for a second that I am enjoying any part of this?”

“Many reasons, Princess…” Jake starts, speaking low and hushed. “You’ve taken at the very least five steps closer to this door. You could have left the second your… ‘accomplice’ dropped me in here.”

“You are terribly-“

“-Quiet, Princess. I don’t take well to being interrupted.” Jake cuts you off abruptly, holding up a single finger that you can not seem to tear your eyes away from. “I would almost say you enjoy being spoken to this way, don’t you? Everyone gets tiresome with constantly hearing praises… And I’m sure praise is all you know, is it not?”

“Perhaps.” The word leaves your mouth bitter and clipped. He is very much right - you both know that very well.

“Mhm, as I thought.” Jake grips the bars of the door above his head, leaning forward as far as he can go. “You know… I could show you so much more. Make you feel so much more.”

“And what could you possibly be hinting at with such words, Captain?” you question, attempting to throw his title back at him the same he had yours. Only to sound much more breathy than you intend.

“If only I had the keys to open this-“ He gestures to the large door, the only thing keeping the two of you separated. “-I could show you much better than I could ever tell you, your majesty.”

“Never in a million years would I consider letting you out,” you scoff, shoving the key that is now damp from your sweating hands, back into your pocket.

“Who said anything about letting me go?” Jake asks you. “Just join me. You have the key to leave whenever you so please.”

“And… if I do choose to join you…?” You narrow your eyes, taking in his blown out pupils and all the little details surrounding them.

“Then I shall do just as I have said and show you things you will never forget.” Jake promises lowly, leaning in closer. “Things you will never want to forget,” he adds.

Your faces are as close as they can possibly be, you can feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks to you.

Without once looking away from him, you hastily retrieve the key from your pocket and unlock the door.

Jake steps back, allowing you the proper space to slide the door open just enough to squeeze your body through and get into the cell with him.

You turn around and close the door, closing your eyes for a split second in attempts to slow your pounding heart and process what you have just done.

As you turn around to finally face Jake, he immediately outstretches his hand towards you and bows before you ever-so-slightly.

Hesitantly, you place your shaking, sweating hand in his and he brings it up to his lips, “‘Tis quite the pleasure, Princess.”

Jake places the first kiss to the top of your hand, holding your stunned gaze. He shifts his hold up to your wrist, his lips following and placing another kiss higher up.

He continues the same actions, kissing all the way up your arm, until his hand reaches your shoulder and his face is inches from yours.

Slowly, he backs you up until you can feel the uncomfortable firmness of metal bars against your back.

“You are truly quite the brave one for joining me.” Jake whispers against your ear. “Just to make things sort of even, I fully plan to tease you until you’re begging and pleading for my mercy.”

“And what leads you to believe I would ever beg someone like you?” You tilt your head back defiantly.

Jake only smirks In amusement, “Is that a challenge?”

“If you can make me beg, I will let you go and tell my father you didn’t dock where he expected,” you bet with him rather smugly… and stupidly.

“My, my. The princess is going to beg me like a whore and lie to her father?” Jake tsks with a faux disappointed shake of his head. “It seems I have corrupted the sweet, royal, princess already. And suppose your accomplice -as you called him- goes back and tells him…? What lie should be grand enough to cover us then?”

His nose is practically brushing against your own, a tension so unbearable further blooming between the two of you.

“T-That is not his place. My father didn’t know that I took him, nor will he. I asked Daniel not to speak of his hand in helping me, or even that we have you,” you inform him truthfully. “It was my duty to capture you and bring you here, not his. I shall be the one to tell my father what it is he must know.”

“Well, then, I suppose I can have my way with you.” Jake purrs, teasing his lips over yours. “Is that what you want, your majesty?”

“So many words and promises, but you’ve yet to show me a thing.” You just barely chase after his lips.

Grabbing each side of your face with both of his large and calloused hands, Jake connects his lips with yours roughly.

It takes you a moment to catch up to his pace, especially with losing every bit of air from your lungs within the very second his lips met yours. Your tongues move against each other, fighting for dominance as whimpers flutter from you and into his warm mouth.

He pulls away, breathless and practically hissing out his next words, “Sweet, sweet princess. You do not know a bit of what you have in store for yourself. Stay right there.”

Jake steps back from you with a finger pointed to the floor where you stand, bending down to pick up a lengthy piece of rope that you and Daniel had him tied up with not so long ago.

“Do you trust me?” There’s a twinkle in his eyes, amusement behind them as he asks you the ridiculous question.

You stare down at the rope outstretched before you - shocked, but you remain shamefully aroused by it all the same.

“Trust- trust you? You are nothing but a complete stranger,” your voice wavers.

“Nonsense. We have spent at least few hours in one another’s presence, now, haven’t we?” His crooked smile sends waves of heat to your core. “Stranger? yes, in some sense. But I’m not a complete stranger anymore.”

You drop your eyes from his, back down to the rope in his hands. Jake pushes it out a little closer to you, eyes deeply studying your cautious but curious face.

Slowly, you lift your hands up and lay your wrists over top of his hands, looking up at him in question as if to say, ‘is this right?’

Jake holds your burning stare and starts to wrap the rope around your wrists, binding them together tightly, but still comfortably somehow.

“Outstanding,” Jake hums, walking off to a corner where another small piece of rope has been discarded.

“Just one last thing,”

Jake makes his way back over to you, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you back a few steps until your back collides with the cold metal bars.

His hand travels from your shoulder, down your arm, until it reaches the rope around your wrists. Grabbing it, he watches your breath quicken as he lifts your arms up and over your head, securing them to the bars with a second piece of rope.

“Mm-“ you clear your throat nervously. “-And how do you presume you will be able to remove my dress in such a position?”

“Lovely of you to inquire,” Jake smiles wildly, pressing his body against yours and leaning in closer to your ear. “I just so happened to see this-“ his hand travels the corseted curve of your side, dipping into your pocket. “-the handle of my dagger shining, while you were standing outside the cell. Not only are you a princess, but a little thief.”

“Well- I...” you stutter weakly, feeling mindless for forgetting to leave it with Daniel.

“You what?” Jake presses, biting at the shell of your ear.

Your only response is your labored breathing, unable to form an intelligible response.

He unsheathes his beautiful dagger from your pocket, resting it over your chest.

“You think too little of my schemes, princess.” He places a kiss over your nose. “I already planned to take my dagger back to use just for this moment. Why take your clothes off with my tired hands, when I could cut them off?”

“Jake,” his name rushes out of your lungs in a heavy sigh.

He grabs you by the waist, turning you around to face the bars and skillfully cut the strings of your corset.

Turning you back around to face him, he pulls it off of your body with ease and continues on with cutting away at your other garments.

Each piece is slowly pulled from you, neatly cut and haphazardly tossed to the side by Jake’s calloused hands.

As he yanks the last piece away, you are then completely naked before him - eyes never lifting to meet his burning gaze upon you.

“Breathtaking, your majesty,” Jake all but whispers, seemingly a little lost in the site that he is beholding.

You draw in a deep breath, exhaling it even slower than the slowness at which you had taken it in, “I’m sure I look far more suitable than anyone you have ever laid with.”

Upon your overweening remark, your eyes finally meet with his and you swear you see fire flash within them.

“How witty of you, princess,” Jake snaps sarcastically, pressing his body into yours. “Haughty of you to assume you are not the one that I would graciously turn away.”

It stings, but somehow you know he doesn’t mean it. Part of you hoped he didn’t, at least.

“Your mouth is foul and full of disrespect,” you snap quietly; silently wishing your hands were free, so that you can act on the resurfacing urge to smack him.

Jake stays silent, bringing the handle of his dagger down against your stomach and slowly dragging it down. The golden handle makes goosebumps form across your skin, your hips writhing about ever so slightly in anticipation.

Just when the end of his handle is close to your heat, he jerks it away entirely.

Instead, he dips his own finger down farther to feel the wetness pooling between your legs himself.

Jake glances up at you with wild eyes, flashing you a wicked smile. “The princess, so proper and poised and innocent… soaked as though she’s dipped into the river.”

Adjusting his careful hold around the blade, Jake lays the handle right where it had stopped before he pulled it away. He continues its slow descent down to your clit, where it halts to rub in the slowest, softest circles.

“Oh, Jake,” you gasp, pushing your hips harder against it.

“Oh, that’s just lovely,” Jake smirks, leaning in to place kisses over your exposed chest. “My name sounds beautiful coming from that pretty little mouth.”

He uses his own hips to hold yours in place, so he that can move the handle of the dagger at whatever pressure or speed he so desires.

“Let me hear it again, princess… ‘Jake,’” he repeats his own name to you, as though you don’t know it.

“Jake,” he repeats again.

Trying to hold onto your defiance and composure, you harshly bite at the inside of your mouth to keep from doing as he asked.

“This won’t do at all, your majesty,” Jake clicks his tongue, moving the handle in faster circles, while his other wraps around your throat. “Did I not say I want to hear you again? Come now, let me hear what pretty noises you can make. I’m sure you’re fantastic at it, little whore.”

He presses the handle harder into your bundle of nerves, drawing firmer circles against you. It’s untamable; the noise that erupts from your lungs, echoing through the cold cell and likely even through the long hallway.

“So beautiful. Keep going…” Jake encourages, tilting his head back as he watches on to your pleasure.

Jake leans forward, his free hand securing itself around your jaw to tilt your head to the side. His lips meet with your neck, biting roughly at the tender skin and soothing the sting with the softness of his tongue.

A soft laugh floats out of him each time you whine or struggle against him and the rough ropes that secure you in place.

“Jake,” you whimper through a labored exhale. The feeling of sweet release is already beginning to bloom in the pit of your stomach.

“Is the princess getting close?” Jake questions with a sly cadence. “Already, your majesty?”

You choose not to answer him, in light of climbing to the peak of your orgasm without chance of interruption.

Alas, Jake is the least bit stupid.

“Are you trying to fool me, princess?” Jake asks lowly, slowing the circles that the handle of his dagger are making.

The urge to relent and beg him is already far greater than you anticipated, but you are determined to stand your ground.

“Not trying to fool you, only avoiding the act of begging a thief,” you speak breathlessly.

“That’s a shame,” Jake grins, trailing his hand down your body to your arousal. A single finger plays at your entrance, “I would let you cum if you were not so hell bent on being a stubborn little brat.”

Just to antagonize you further, he sinks his finger inside you, purposefully curling it upwards just shy of the sweet spot within you.

“Mm…”

A tight lipped whimper tumbles out of you, your body arching into his touch ever-so-slightly.

“Oh? Do you like that, princess?” Jake taunts, looking down the bridge of his nose as he watches you. “You love having attention on your pretty little pussy, don’t you?”

“I…” You aren’t really sure what you had planned to say, or even what you want to say. All thoughts are either jumbled, or lost entirely.

“You what?” Jake pries, sliding the handle of the dagger through your folds to collect more of your wetness.

The second the handle returns to your throbbing bundle of nerves, something snaps inside of you.

“Jake,” you whine, tugging at your restraints despite the incessant burn of the rope. “Jake, please!”

“There it is.” Jake’s smile is pleased and cocky.

Feeling ever so gracious, he pushes in a second finger and deepens their rhythmic thrusts.

Jake presses his lips to the corner of your open mouth, “Tell me how good it feels, princess. Tell me.”

“I-it feels s-so good. Feels so good,” you stutter, tempted to turn your head and capture his lips in a kiss, all on your own accord. “Please!”

“Please?” He parrots mockingly. “Please what, your majesty?”

The feelings of your impending climax finally starts to build once again. This time, you are not going to give it up.

“Please let me cum!” You nearly sob, rushing every single word from your mouth. “Please, captain, I’ll do whatever you want… J-just please let me cum.”

“Give it to me, then,” Jake demands. “Right now.”

The band of pleasure breaks within you, sending you into an earth-shattering spiral of bliss that you could not have ever prepared yourself for.

Your knees buckle beneath you, leaving the ropes binding your wrists to be the only thing holding you up. The sting of the rope not even registering, as cuts and burns surely form around your wrists.

“What a good girl you are for me, princess,” Jake praises you, removing his fingers from you first to wrap his arm around your body, holding you up.

“J-Jake,” you choke out, squirming in his hold against the overstimulation that he was beginning to cause you. “I- It-s-“

“Shhh,” he silences you, a little reluctantly pulling his dagger away from your core. “I know, princess.”

Studying your face, he takes in your half-lidded eyes and flushed cheeks. The slightest bit of pity took over him.

Jake tucks the dampened handle of his dagger beneath your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Will you be a good girl if I untie you? Hm?”

“Y-yes, sir- I mean, Captain,” you answer him, correcting yourself once more just for good measure. “Yes, Captain.”

Flipping the weapon around, he drags the tip of the dagger down your throat with only enough pressure to make it resemble a feather, making your breath hitch in your chest. Fear starts to rise back up inside you, along with adrenaline. The combination is intoxicating in a dangerous way.

“Will you truly?” Jake cocks a single eyebrow at you.

The sharp tip moves across your chest and down your stomach, goosebumps forming as you shudder.

“Yes! Yes,” you promise, breathing uneven and more labored than it has been so far.

The tip dips into your belly button, eliciting some sort of choked whimper from your throat.

Jake smirks at that, “Feels nice, doesn’t it?” He begins to trail it back up your body, the same way it had descended down.

You’re struck silent, unable to manage a single word.

Finally reaching your bindings, with two flicks of the dagger, the ropes fall from your wrists.

Your body immediately collapses forward into Jake’s. He tosses his dagger to the floor with a high-pitched clink, just in time to catch you.

“Falling at my feet so soon, princess?” Jake snickers, hauling you back up and guiding you to the bed.

“You forget yourself,” you scoff, clearly displaying your distaste for the thought of being at his feet. “One place you will never find me is at your feet.”

“No, your majesty-“ Jake tangles a hand in your hair, yanking your head back. “-You have forgotten yourself.”

Letting go of your hair, he hastily works to undo the buttons adorning his vest, pulling it away to be discarded onto the dirty floor of the cell - his shirt following directly after.

“What happened to being my good girl?” Jake inquires, stepping closer to you, his face mere inches from yours.

Your response is quick and confident, “Being your good girl is only applicable if you’re pleasing me, Captain.”

“Oh, is it, now?” Jake places his hand over your sternum, sliding it up until it splays around your throat and tightens there. “Is that not what I just did? Please you?” You struggle to draw in air as his grip stays unrelenting, his hold never once wavering as you slowly sink to your knees. “And you’re so needy and desperate that it still wasn’t good enough for you?”

He leans down to be eye level with you as he fires questions at your flushed face, “You’ll take what I feel so inclined to give you, your majesty.”

Jake releases his grip, standing straight up as he watches down on you, gasping to refill your burning lungs with air.

While you work on regaining some form of control over your own body and mind, Jake begins removing the rest of his clothes.

You look up, watching him attentively through your lashes. The perfections of his body are not lost on you.

“Perhaps we should try this again,”

Jake suggests, taking himself in his hand. Your mouth waters at the sight of him. His free hand cups your cheek, “Are you going to be my good girl?”

All you can muster is a nod, unsure that your voice can even function to its fullest abilities.

His thumb, gentle and featherlight in touch, traces over your bottom lip before sinking into your mouth, “Prove it to me, then.”

Your hands are reaching up to wrap around him, before your brain can even fully process the movement.

A kiss far too innocent for the actions you wre about to take part in, is placed over his tip. You hear the shaky breath Jake draws in, encouraging you to repeat the same little kiss once more.

You drop one of your hands down to your lap, sliding your hand down to his base. Sinking your mouth down over the rest of him, you can tell that his whole body shuddered from the pleasure you’re providing him.

“That’s it, princess,” he encourages you, his hand coming up to tangle into your hair.

The twitch of his fingers against your scalp, serves to enlighten you on his urge to push you further. Taking a deep breath, you take him as far as you can go, breathing through the urge to gag around him.

“Fuck,” he curses, hips jerking on their own volition. “Your mouth is too good for me, angel, but you look absolutely lovely taking me like a little whore.”

A whimper sounds from your throat, sending the slightest bit of vibration through him. You start to find a steady rhythm, his hand still resting in your hair.

Every so often, his grip will tighten when you do something he particularly likes. Within a minute or so, he is throbbing inside of your mouth.

“Fuck, alright- enough.” He pulls you away abruptly, breathing significantly more labored.

He takes a moment to gather himself, staring up at the ceiling, as if fighting to hold onto his composure.

“Stand up,” he demands, releasing his grip on your soft tresses.

You scramble up to your feet, dizziness plaguing you for a brief moment.

Jake takes no more than a single step closer to you, eyes scanning over the expanse of your naked body that is displayed before him. He reaches up, dragging the back of his knuckles along your temple, letting the gentle touch travel its way down your face, your neck and to your breasts.

The tip of his finger grazes over your nipple, causing your eyes to flutter closed as your breathing increases.

“Oh, the ways I could ruin this flawless body…” Jake trails off, dragging the tip of his finger down your stomach slowly. “So perfect and not a single blemish or mark in sight. A true beauty, you are, aren’t you?”

With every word that so gracefully purrs its way out of his mouth, he backs you closer to the bed.

“M… mark me.” The words fly out of you before you can stop them.

In one quick movement that you are far too dazed to notice, you’re laying beneath him. His cock rests against the inner part of your thigh, hard and still throbbing softly every few seconds.

“Mark you?” he repeats your words back to you in question. “How could I, your majesty?”

There is a playful cadence to his tone, very clearly telling you that he will gladly oblige to the idea.

Jake quirks a single eyebrow at you, “And how do you suppose I do so?”

Given the fact that you hadn’t meant to say it, you haven’t thought that far ahead. Visuals of the silver blade of his dagger lightly grazing your skin, replay in your mind. Along with the imagines of bite marks and bruises that you will surely have to find the means of covering.

“Speak up,” he grumbles, lips ghosting over the center of your throat.

You quickly come to the conclusion that you will allow him to do whatever he pleases, as undeniably insane as it is.

“Do what you wish.”

Jake sits up, bold, widened eyes boring directly into yours.

You stare at each other for a few long moments, before you watch the corner of his mouth twitch and curl up into his increasingly familiar smirk.

“Mmm,” he hums in acknowledgement to your words.

Both of his hands smooth over your hips and up to your breasts, where he cups them and brings his mouth down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth.

“Jake,” you whimper, gripping at the firmness of his bare shoulders.

“I refuse to mark you permanently just yet…” Jake says against your skin. His left hand retreats from your chest, palm harshly colliding with your thigh. “Temporarily, of course-“ his palm cracks against you once more, surely leaving a red tint in its wake. “-I suppose, will do for now.”

You inhale and exhale shakily through your mouth; hung open in shock and the slightest hint of pain.

“Take me, please,” you beg him pathetically.

“Take you where, your majesty?” Jake inquires, a teasing inflection to his voice. He knows.

“Right here,” you sigh, pressing your hips up into his. “You know what I want.”

Reaching between your bodies, he glides his fingers in between your folds - still completely soaked.

“Perhaps I do.” He toys around at your entrance, paying your clit the slightest bit of attention afterwards. “There’s a chance that I don’t, though.”

A low, sinister laugh erupts from his chest as he watches you squirm underneath him.

“Tell me, princess,” Jake demands, voice low and raspy. You can feel his cock teasing your entrance, just waiting for you to say the filthy words he wants to hear so badly. “Take. You. Where?”

Pathetic as it may be, a sob tears its way out of your lungs, “Take me right here, please...I want- need you inside of me.”

“She needs it,” he taunts, barely pushing into you. “Sweet little princess just needs to be fucked…turned into a filthy mess.”

“Oh, god- fuck-“ Your nails dig deeper into the skin of Jake’s back.

“Princess is no good for anything but getting ruined by the man she’s supposed to be capturing.” Jake pulls out almost completely, only to drive himself back inside of you roughly.

The moan that rips its way out of your throat is anything but pure and elegant, bouncing around the walls around you and likely beyond.

“Quiet.” Jake places a hand over your mouth, his other holding his body above yours as he starts to sharply thrust into you. “God forbid you get us caught… Get ME caught.”

Jake begins working his way up to a steady, brutal pace. The depths at which you can feel him is sending an almost unbearable pleasure through you. From the center of your body, out to the tips of your fingers and toes; the pleasure completely consumes you.

You can’t help the volume that your moans have taken on.

Jake attempts to silence you by capturing your lips in a hungry kiss, but it proves to be of very, very little help.

He pulls away abruptly, hand wrapping around your throat, “Shut. Your fucking. Mouth, princess. Will you?” He rasps into your ear through gritted teeth. “We can’t possibly have His Majesty hearing how much of a whore you are for a thief.”

Your head lulls back, face contorted in concentration and immense pleasure as Jake continues to fuck into you relentlessly. Mercilessly.

“Good girl,” Jake praises you, starting to lose control of his own breathing.

The hand wrapped around your throat, travels up to your face; a bruising grip forcing you to look at him.

“I want you to cum for me. Quietly,” Jake growls, adjusting himself above you to bring his other hand between your two bodies. His fingers find your swollen clit, “You can do that, yes?”

“Mhm,” you hum your response, afraid that if you are to open your mouth too much, the unholiest of noises are sure to free themselves from your lungs.

“Come on, then,” Jake urges, pinning your body in place on the rather uncomfortable bed with his own. “Let me have it.”

You feel that addicting burn spreading through the pit of your stomach, mere seconds away from taking over your whole body.

As soon as Jake watches your eyes roll back into your head and your mouth fall open into the perfect little ‘o,’ he crashes his lips into yours to ensure that all possible noises are muffled.

Even he groans lowly into your mouth, forcing your to swallow it down as he continues kissing you with mind numbing passion and fervor.

Your lungs start to tingle, your body buzzing and thrashing all at once; riding out an orgasm unlike any you have ever had.

Jake’s orgasm is only seconds after yours. He spills inside you, gasping to refill his lungs with air when he pulls away from you.

“Damn it,” Jake moans. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Bliss has overtaken the both of you, leaving you to bask in stunned silence for what felt like an hour.

“I… I must say,” Jake finally speaks up. “You are quite something, your majesty.”

For once, his tone doesn’t have any malicious intent or taunting cadence behind it. It seems genuine.

You gaze up at him, slightly shocked. “Thank you…”

He removes himself from above you, laying to your side closest to the wall, leaving you the space to leave the bed.

Staring up at the ceiling, hands on his chest, he reminds you of his previous promise, “You’re free to go if you please, I shouldn’t keep you here any longer, your majesty…”

You blink a few times, struck speechless by his sudden change. You think over your next decision carefully before speaking.

“I… I think I would like to stay here with you…” You tell him, settling back against the worn blanket.

Jake has turned to look at you, now, “What?”

Moving closer to him, you cuddled into his arm, “I want to stay here with you, Jake.”

<>

You blink a few times, trying to rid your eyes of their sleepiness.

Suddenly, the loud slamming of the cell door startles you nearly senseless. You roll yourself over and sit up, all in almost one swift movement.

“Jacob?!” you yell, anger and fear flooding your entire body as you scramble up to your feet. “What ever do you think you are doing?!”

“No hard feelings, my Darling,” he starts with a faux, pitied smile. “You were absolutely magnificent. I almost brought you along. I’ll let them know to come retrieve you as soon as I step foot back on my ship.”

You mouth falls agape, your chest becoming dangerously tight as it heaves up, then shakily back down.

Jake pulls the key he had stolen from the pocket of your dress out of the lock, taking a few steps backwards before bending down and laying it gingerly on the ground.

He straightens, kicking the key just so. It slides towards the door with a few high pitched clinks, stopping just out of your reach.

Jake smiles brightly, shooting you a sly wink, “If we ever cross paths again, let’s revisit this…escapade, shall we?”

@shutupdevvie

@belovedsamuel

@gardensgatedaisy

@ageofbarbarians

@theweightofjake

@jake-kiszkas-smirk @stardustcatcher

@positivegvfthings @ascendingtostardust

@gretasmokerising @highladyofasgard

@doodle417 @groovyvanfleet

@greta-van-chaos @of-infinite-wonders

@skankforjakekiszka @demolitionndann

@sarakay-gvf @runwayblues

@colorstreammind @mybussyinchrist

@ofburningskies @streamsofstardust @twistedmelodies @gvfpal @joshsindigostreak @writingcold @juliensbakery @stillstreetjoshua @alwaysonthemend @gold-mines-melting @gretavanfanfics

#gvf #greta van fleet #jake kiszka #pirate!jake kiszka AU #gvf smut #jake kiszka smut #jake gvf #danny wagner #danny gvf #drw #jtk #jtk smut #greta van fleet smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fic #gvf fanfiction #gvf fic #jakey kiszka #jacob thomas kiszka #greta van angst #jacob thomas kiszka sir #jtk x reader #jake kiskza x reader #danny wagner x reader #daniel wagner #jacob kiszka #greta van fluff #daniel gvf #greta van fleet fic

[rpmemes-galore]

Pirates of the Caribbean: On Stranger Tides ... sentence starters

“Oh! A knife?”

“Walk or die.“

“You're killing her!”

“All part of the plan, yes?“

“Such beauty. Yet deadly.“

“Admit it. You still love me.”

“You are aware of the ritual?“

“You bastard, how could you?“

“Wait! I am with child... yours.“

“I heard where you're headed.“

“How can you say I used you?“

“All die. Even you. Soon, I hear.“

“The lies I told you were not lies.”

“That's very good, may I use that?“

“As do I. Always have, always will.”

Oh no, no, I've seen a thing or two.”

“You're either with us or against us!“

“I can save you. You need only ask.“

“I've actually never been that drunk.“

“He's religious, I believe it's required.“

“Who's to say I won't live forever, eh?“

And how will I get free of these bonds?“

“You lied to me by telling me the truth?“

“Mistook it for a brothel. Honest mistake.“

“I'm not with you, neither am I against you!“

“You will go. You will return. Or I will kill her.“

“I was wrong. Not every soul can be saved.“

“Maybe you don't believe in the supernatural?”

“I may have had... briefly, mind you... stirrings.”

“Face is familiar. Have I... threatened you before?“

“I cannot save you both. One of you must sacrifice.“

“You've stolen me. And I'm here to take meself back.“

“If not for me, you would never have been captured...”

“I think you might be better off if you just... stay out of it.”

“I'm starting to think you don't know where you're going.“

“It's not the destination so much as the journey, they say.“

“Have I mentioned, sir, what a lovely daughter you have?“

“Mutiny served me well. It gained me an audience with you.“

“Your father saved you. Perhaps his soul is now redeemed.“

“Does this face looks like it's been to the Fountain of Youth?“

“Did everyone see that? Because I will not be doing it, again.”

“You're the one who insisted on bringing the bloody mermaid!“

“If I don't kill a man every now and then, they forget who I am.“

“How is it we can never meet without you pointing something at me?“

“Captain, I wish to report a mutiny. I can name fingers and point names.“

“Seeing as how you're still alive, I say it's all been very successful thus far.“

“You demonstrated a lot of technique for someone I supposedly corrupted.“

“I thought I should give you fair warning, we're taking the ship. Nothing personal.“

“No, no, no, no, not quite all the way to feelings. More like... All right feelings, damn you.“

“You broke free of your bonds thirty minutes ago, waiting for the precise moment to pounce.“

“You know the feeling you get when standing in a high place, the sudden urge to jump... I don’t have it.”

“My God, you will not take her. If you have taken her, give her back. Give her back...please...”

“I be placed in a bewilderment. There I were, resting. And upon a sudden, I hear an ungodly row on deck.“

“Sailors abandoning their posts, without orders, without leave. Men before the mast, taking the ship for themselves.“

“Better to not know which moment may be your last. Every morsel of your entire being alive to the infinite mystery of it all.“

We shall need a crossbow, an hourglass, three goats, one of us must learn to play the trumpet, whilst the other one goes like this.”

Such beauty. Surely you are one of God's own creations and not a descendant of those dark creatures who found no refuge on the Ark.“

#on stranger tides quotes #potc quotes #pirates of the caribbean quotes #sentence starters #rp meme

[inchidentally]

I'm so curious to hear what you think about non RPF differences between Lando with Carlos, DR and Oscar. I don't do a lot of RPF shipping personally but your takes on all of them are so intriguing and feel pretty truthful. I feel like fandom ignores that it hasn't all been smooth sailing with Lando and his teammates and want to know what you think about the less rose-tinted side of that?

okay so jsyk I always end up a little rose-tinted even when talking about non-RPF Lando relationships but I like to hope I stay truthful in terms of not inventing any kind of sexual/dating/etc narrative that just doesn't exist. and I'm afraid I'm about to go insane in my response so hopefully you don't mind that either lol.

also @twinkodium is so much better at timelines than I am so pls can you add your part to this if you get a chance??

so just to establish which I think we all know: Lando has a tendency to take his warm heart out of his chest and hold it up to anyone who seems even remotely kind or friendly. yes, he's got a bite to him and a temper but honestly that's all also part of being far too open to people. if a person - especially other men and boys - show him even a hint of affection or camaraderie then he's all in immediately. especially as the youngest driver on the grid for so many years.

truly, I think Carlos and Daniel didn't know what to do when Lando put his little beating heart into their big, clumsy hands. the fact that the level of openness and devotion they got - immediately - from Lando was so much down to Lando's insecurity in F1 and how much he was dealing with mentally, was way too much for two guys who honestly only expect to have a laugh sometimes with their teammate. maybe be chummy enough to hang out sometimes and make media responsibilities less tedious.

and Lando was so happy to be the adoring satellite, shrieking with laughter over all their jokes in exchange for him latching securely onto an established F1 personality. but Carlos and Daniel were running the show while they were his teammates - they were the entertainment and Lando was sort of a conduit for the adoring fans. and what's interesting is I think that we can pretty visibly see the turn with each of them where Lando came thudding down to that realization himself. that he would have to change his own ideas about friendship with both of them in order to remain friends at all. there's the infamous 2020 carlando "breakup" gifset (here) where Lando's face just sours at Carlos in his traitorous blood red suit making some offhand comment

and Lando cuts such a wide berth from him that it puts two whole people between them. by the time Lando reaches the reporters waiting at the media pen, his face looks gray and set

and it's like damn, we straight up witnessed Lando standing up for himself and setting up some boundaries with Carlos.

the moments with Daniel were more scattered but you could see them when Daniel was doing his usual attempts at the bromance thing and sometimes Lando was just. not. having it. there's the moment in particular of Daniel coming up behind him and hooking his chin over Lando's shoulder and oh. you can feel the coolness coming off Lando bc he's genuinely going through something and needs a friend, not another performance for the cameras.

ohhhh and the response of "no one" when asked who his best friend was on the grid was before casting around a bit and finally saying Carlos. parallel that to his irritated dismissal of the journalist pushing for carlando in Vegas and reminding them that none of these guys are his real friends they're his F1 buddies and he "hates them" when racing them. by the time 2023 rolled around Lando grew up, set up boundaries and will only give what he chooses to his friendships with Carlos and Daniel. which is overall so much healthier and has probably ensured that those friendship didn't die out completely. but they're not what they once were for him. Carlos and Daniel are allowed to visit the garden of Eden that is being fully intimate with Lando - but the gates always shut behind them when it’s time to leave.

genuinely I don't blame Carlos or even Daniel (even if I don't like a lot about him) bc literally neither of them has ever had a friend like Lando - and probably don't know any guy like him. and they're both such Typical Dudes - as well as being fully a different generation to Lando - so how were they supposed to know a sensitive, naive kid like this would be in F1 let alone their teammate? guys they know never butterfly themselves open to other guys except for extremely long term friendships - if even then. Lando above all wants to have a good heart and he just trusts people, and while it makes men absolutely crazy about him it's surely got to get him hurt a lot. you can even see it with his media pen work where he reacts to difficult questions or fairly open hostility with a wide disarming smile because he'd rather bring someone round than openly fight with them. even Daniel who definitely utilizes his smile to dominate and disarm can still easily be baited into hostility compared to Lando. but when someone persists in being a twat to Lando, he just closes off with that cold, sour look and bam. that moron just lost themselves any access to the garden of Eden.

and I'm not saying we know enough about Oscar to say that Lando's heart is definitely safe with him, but the absolutely huge difference is that Oscar came into being his teammate fully aware of who Lando is and he was willing to hold back and be content just being a teammate and let a friendship develop if Lando felt so inclined. *hint: this sign of respect and deference will be significant!

like we saw how they fell into this twinning thing at first where Oscar would mirror Lando a lot of the time - out of nerves but also deference. then as the season went on and the car still struggled, they developed sort of a tentative camaraderie born out of equally blighted hopes.

but what's really interesting is how much Silverstone was truly the turning point and not even in a fandom goggles sense. I isolated the following moments out in a video below: there's this hilarious little moment right before the fan stage where Oscar is asking Lando something like 'what's that (playing)?' and Lando seems to think Oscar is referring to the (very obvious) crowd noise and Oscar goes "no not them you idiot the song!" and it goes back and forth wayyy too long for the brain cells I would like to assume they have before they finally work out between them what song is playing.

and Lando had by the time of the fan stage momentarily set aside his own euphoria and positively showered Oscar with praise at press briefing after the race. he also repeated it at the fan stage in front of Oscar for good measure! and clearly loves it when Oscar says how he was rooting for Lando leading the race at one point.

then, like something out of a movie, as they're posing for the photo in front of the crowd, Oscar slips that arm around Lando's waist and urges him closer and you can see the whole of every thought on Lando's face. the look of surprise as Oscar's strong arm jostles his body a little, the blossoming delight, the 'woah is he really initiating this? he never does this!', and finally the big beaming smile as he wraps his arm around Oscar and settles in.

and just a few races later when Lando has another podium under his belt and has qualified 2nd at the Dutch GP, there's this other movie moment where it suddenly clicks for Lando… Oscar will always show up for him no matter what. not just when they're both doing well or both struggling, he'll always show up for Lando. out loud and where everyone can see but without a hint of performance to it.

and when you scroll through @piastrisms wonderful post-race gif compilations, you can see that dynamic shift even more to the suddenly much more tentative but openly kind of 'crushing' on each other. Oscar starts to let himself think that maybe, just maybe! the Lando of his 8-year social media obsession really likes Oscar for who he is and not just as a team obligation! this leads to him taking a few more risks during the McLaren challenges and by the time they film the beloved Austin material, Oscar has actually started to surprise Lando. from there on you can see Oscar's relief at making Lando really laugh and smile build his confidence right at the exact same time that Lando looks thrown off center and his boundaries start falling away. that mirroring they used to do started to build into trusting each other, which then led to them genuinely liking each other, and then mutually wanting to stay together as teammates. and isn't that level of security something new for Lando!

and you know what I noticed in all this that has me frothing and biting? that instead of Lando handing his beating heart over to his teammates and having it bruised and withdrawn? with Oscar, it's been the exact opposite. Lando had finally decided to be cautious from the start and keep this new anomaly teammate at arm's length - and for a while felt relieved bc the anomaly turned out to be so damn competent and quick! *oh and the anomaly was showing a level of respect and deference that Lando was not at all used to, which was so very nice but also ?? was the anomaly a little bit cold toward him ?? but then Silverstone happened and dawn broke. we finished the season out with Lando actually looking to Oscar for affirmations and wriggling excitedly and looking at Oscar with that wide-open expression on his face and Lando clearly beginning to wonder if maybe his sacred heart might fit comfortably in Oscar's hands that are smaller and gentler than the other men he's known on the grid? maybe how much more steady and careful and devoted Oscar is when it comes to his racing is reflected in how he has treated Lando, so unlike the usual "Lando effect" bromances that get all the attention and that the cameras and fans eat up. maybe the big, traditional handsome alphas and their big displays of affection are one kind of friend for Lando but perhaps not so good as a teammate. and maybe a friendship that grows too steadily and quietly for networks and social media teams to take much of an interest is another kind of friend, and maybe just the right kind of teammate.

#inchreplies #someone take my computer away from me I mean it #I cannot be normal #landoscar lore #mine #silverstone gp 2023 #angst #inchidentallyanessay #lando of the bleeding heart #for reference

[cha-melodius]

A ship of your choice firstprince, please!

A location—(Although I dare someone to send the White House or Kensington, I WILL make it into an AU. I have ideas.) Also if you want a particular historical setting, you can feel free to include a time period too. GO NUTS, please.

Well sheesh, with that kind of tease, I suggest both the White House and Kensington Palace, circa the year 2068.

I look forward to seeing what you choose to do with this! I am certain to enjoy it, whatever it is ❤️

(This was such an intriguing prompt, and I hope you enjoy what I did with it. Also happiest of birthdays to @dumbpeachjuice, who's incredible fic "make me your god" inspired this one.)

The Impossible Soul

(M, 7.2k, read it below or on AO3)

“I shouldn’t let you do this for me,” Henry tells him in the moments before.

“You should know by now that you’re not letting me do anything, sweetheart,” Alex returns. “Anyway, I’m doing this for us.”

“Even though we still won’t be able to be together?”

“I told you, it’s only temporary. Once my mom’s no longer in office, I won’t be in the spotlight. But I can’t leave you trapped here for another four years. I won’t.” Alex cups Henry’s cheek with his hand and brushes a thumb against the corner of his perfect mouth. “Besides, what if I left you here and you forgot about me?”

Henry covers Alex’s hand with his, warm and soft. “Never.”

~~~~~

One Year Earlier

Alex didn’t think he could be surprised by AIDEs at this point, but the ones populating Kensington are really something else.

“It’s a pleasure to have you here,” Prince Henry says, his blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he shakes Alex’s hand.

Alex can’t help but stare. The eyes are the hardest part, or so Nora says. All the Secret Service agents’ eyes have a kind of strange metallic glint behind them. Often it’s not even noticeable, but if you look too closely, it becomes obvious. Prince Henry’s eyes are flawless, though. Just endless, perfect blue. Really, the only flaw Alex can see in this model is that they made him inhumanly beautiful. No real person has lips like that.

Henry’s hand is warm in his, his grip firm but not too tight. Alex forces himself to let go.

“Yeah, thanks,” he says, looking around rather than staying trapped in Henry’s piercing gaze.

Palace servants flit about, attending to all of the gala guests’ needs along with those of the princes and princess. Apparently, it’s a perfect recreation of the palace’s operations from the turn of the century, back before the monarchy was abolished. Now they just keep fake royalty here, like they can’t quite let go of the idea. Alex has never understood it, and visiting hasn’t really helped. Of all the things he’s had to do on this goodwill trip, this is by far the strangest, pretending to hobnob with royalty at a fancy ball like anyone does this shit anymore. Then again, maybe showing off is the whole point, same as it ever was.

It’s not like Alex isn’t used to interacting with AIDEs. The use of Artificially Intelligent Dynamic Entities is still limited more broadly, but they’re common in dangerous or sensitive jobs. The entire Secret Service was replaced by them two administrations ago; their loyalty is never in question, nor their willingness to protect their charges at all costs. Use of AIDEs for entertainment purposes is growing in popularity too, like the Kensington ones. They play the role they’re programmed to without deviation, they don’t need to eat or sleep (though they usually do, to better mimic humanity), they can be abused or even killed without repercussion and, most importantly, they don’t need to be paid.

“I hope your visit to London has been pleasant?” Prince Henry asks with perfectly-tuned amiability. It makes Alex want to push a little, though he knows Nora would tell him it’s a futile exercise.

“Mostly I’ve been spending it in lots of meetings,” Alex says. “Kinda wish I had time to go out and see more of the city.”

“I can understand that,” Henry replies, glancing toward the doors in a way that Alex would call wistful if he didn’t know better.

Can he? Do they let them leave the palace? Probably not. Does Henry want to, though? That would be a weird thing to program into an AIDE that’s supposed to stay in one place.

“I guess you probably don’t get out much, huh?” Alex asks.

Henry smiles indulgently at his bad joke. “Not so much, no. Makes it ever-so-difficult to meet people, you know.”

Alex laughs despite himself. He’s never met an AIDE that was so self-aware. If he tries to joke with Cash about taking a day off, the agent just stares at Alex blankly. “You must talk with a lot of visitors to the palace, though.”

“I do,” Henry allows, taking a sip of his champagne. “Most of them aren’t very interesting, though. All they do is ask what it’s like to be a prince.”

“And? What’s it like?”

Henry smirks a little. “Bloody boring. Not that I can tell them that, you understand.”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees, a little lost for words. Henry is nothing like what he was expecting. “So, what do you want to talk about, then?”

In response, Henry takes a step closer. He smells like fancy cologne, like linens and fresh grass, and something inside him seems to tug Alex closer. “Can I show you something? Still inside the palace, of course.”

Alex’s eyes flick over to June and Nora, chatting with someone he doesn’t recognize—AIDE or government official, he can’t tell—and the Secret Service agents linger at the periphery of the ballroom. He knows shouldn’t leave the event, but honestly chances are no one would notice he was gone. Plus, his curiosity is through the roof.

Henry takes him to a library. There are barricades set up to keep the visiting public to certain areas, but Henry slips past them and Alex follows him. Watches as Henry walks down the rows with a small, private smile curving his lips, trailing a finger along the spines. He pauses and plucks a book off the shelf—Pride and Prejudice, Alex can just make out—and smooths a hand lovingly over the cover.

“I love to read,” Henry says, almost to himself. His eyes flick up to Alex’s, shining brightly in the low light. “All those worlds… They’re incredible, don’t you think?”

Alex doesn’t know what to say. AIDEs don’t read. They don’t dream of other worlds.

“The rest of your… family,” Alex says, diplomatically. “Are they like you? I mean, with the reading.”

Henry laughs quietly and shakes his head. “No. No one’s like me.”

Alex is rapidly coming to that same conclusion.

~~~~~

“There’s nothing special about the Kensington AIDEs,” Nora tells him, sounding more beleaguered than necessary. “We talked to Princess Beatrice for like an hour, it was the same as any other AIDE. Pleasant, but a little vacant. The eyes are a neat trick, though.”

“I’m telling you, Henry is different,” Alex insists. “We talked all night. He’s aware of what he is. He reads and he thinks and he feels. Fuck, Nora, he dreams when he sleeps.”

“AIDEs don’t sleep. Not really.”

“Henry does.”

“Someone just got a little creative with the programming,” Nora says dismissively. “He’s supposed to say those things to make him seem more real. If you went back, he probably wouldn’t even remember you.”

“And what if he did?”

“Alex—”

“What if he did remember me? What if all of it really is real?” Alex presses.

Nora frowns at him. “Then there are some major ethical implications that current AI laws are frankly not prepared to deal with,” she says bluntly. “Look, it’s just not possible. They don’t have feelings, period. He’s just a fancy computer.”

“Fine. Whatever you say,” Alex huffs, mostly because he doesn’t want to have this argument anymore. She’s not going to change his mind, and clearly he’s not going to change hers.

“Promise me you’ll leave this alone. We can’t afford some kind of diplomatic incident because you got a crush on the prince AIDE.”

Alex glares at her. It’s not a crush. “I’ll leave it.”

He absolutely will not.

~~~~~

Cash doesn’t blink—literally—when Alex tells him that he’ll be visiting Kensington Palace again rather than the scheduled afternoon tea with some MP he couldn’t care less about. He sends his apologies with an excuse that he’s not feeling well and heads to the main entrance with the rest of the tourists. He has no idea where Henry might be, but AIDEs don’t take days off, so it stands to reason that he’ll be somewhere acting princely, or whatever he does all day.

Unfortunately, he gets stuck on a tour led by an AIDE with a dirty blonde bob and green eyes who most definitely shows none of Henry’s spark. It’s boring as fuck, and he almost bails more than once, but this place is huge and he’d probably get lost forever before he found Henry. They go past a few rooms Alex recognizes, but there’s no sign of the ‘royal family’ anywhere, and Alex starts to worry. Maybe they only trot them out for big events. Maybe you have to buy a special tour package. Ugh, his mom is going to kill him if he ditches any more events.

“Next, we’ll visit the palace library,” the guide says, and Alex perks up.

This has got to be his chance. Henry had said they were basically allowed free run of the palace so long as they remained in areas where they’d run into visitors during operating hours, and Alex knows there’s nowhere Henry would rather be than the library. Sure enough, he’s reading in a massive armchair by one of the windows, though he gets up when the tour group enters and comes over to talk to them. His face is fixed in a pleasant, bland smile as he looks over the group, until his eyes land on Alex. The flash of recognition is clear, even if he recovers quickly, and Alex’s heart thuds a little harder in his chest.

He lingers toward the back as the rest of the visitors ask Henry about living in the palace and being a prince—exactly as he said they would. He answers graciously, of course, the words so bland and scripted that Alex almost wonders if maybe he hadn’t been drinking too much champagne during the gala. But he hangs back when everyone else files out, and as soon as Henry turns to him, his eyes practically light up.

“You came back,” Henry says, his voice soft with something like wonder.

“Of course I did,” Alex replies. “We didn’t finish our conversation.”

Henry ducks his head, blond hair falling alluringly over his forehead as his cheeks turn pink. The way their bodies mimic human physiology is astounding sometimes. “I suppose we didn’t. Would you care to walk with me in the gardens? It’s a lovely day.”

“Can we do that?”

“Ironically, you’re allowed so long as you have one of us with you, and I’m allowed so long as I’m with a guest,” Henry explains. “Plus, you’re a foreign dignitary. No one will bother us.”

“Sure you wanna be seen with me? My sister would say I’m the furthest thing from dignified,” Alex says, grinning probably a little too broadly.

Henry’s smile slants mischievous as he steps close enough for Alex to get a noseful of linen and fresh grass again. “Maybe I like that about you.”

~~~~

“Have you ever been outside the palace?” Alex asks on his next visit. Nora had given him a look like she knew exactly what he’s been up to when he’d begged off from an official tour of the British Museum, even though he hasn’t brought up Henry again. The fact that she’d found him down a rabbit hole of academic papers about AIDE psychology probably hadn’t helped anything.

“Not that I remember,” Henry answers. It’s rainy today, so they’re ensconced in some kind of parlor with ornate, uncomfortable furniture. The fact that Henry only knows this life is outrageous. Has he ever truly been comfortable? Does anyone even care? “They gave me a basic knowledge of London as a background. I’m supposed to be fond of the Victoria & Albert Museum, but I’ve never seen it myself.”

“That’s fucked up,” Alex blurts.

Henry shrugs. “It’s just how it is.”

“How does none of this ever seem to bother you?”

“It can’t bother me, Alex. My entire existence has been—and will be—only this, and if I allowed any of it to bother me, I’d go mad.”

This does not, in fact, make Alex feel any better about the situation. “Guess I’ll just have to be angry for the both of us, then.”

“I’d rather you weren’t,” Henry says mildly. “It’s no use being upset about my life. Nothing can be changed.”

“Bad idea to tell me something can’t be changed, sweetheart. I fucking love a challenge,” Alex returns. He’s not joking, but Henry laughs anyway. “I’m serious, Henry. You deserve to get things you want, too.”

“What if I said I wanted you not to worry about it? That I want you to be happy?”

“Because you’re programmed to?” Alex counters, letting more bitterness than he means to slip into his voice.

Henry reaches out and slides a hand over Alex’s fist where it’s curled on his thigh. “Because I like you, Alex.”

~~~~

On the last visit he can manage before he leaves London, Alex brings Henry a cell phone.

“What’s this for?” Henry asks when Alex hands it to him. It’s a cheap smartphone, pay as you go, something that Alex can renew the data and minutes on remotely.

Alex frowns at him. He would have figured Henry would be familiar with the concept of phones, but maybe they purposefully programmed him to not recognize it. “It’s for communication. Audio, text, video—”

“I know what a phone is, Alex,” Henry says wryly, interrupting him before Alex can make a fool of himself. “I mean why are you giving it to me?”

“I’d like to keep talking to you after I go home,” Alex tells him, feeling oddly exposed by the question. “If that’s something you’d like, too.”

Henry smiles, almost bashfully. “Yes, I’d like that.”

“I assume you’re not allowed to have that,” Alex says with a nod at the phone.

“I don’t think anyone would consider it a possibility that we might,” Henry muses, “but I’ll keep it hidden nonetheless.”

“Good plan.”

“I’m going to miss your visits, Alex,” Henry says earnestly. “I’ll miss you.”

AIDEs can’t miss things, Alex’s brain supplies, an oft-repeated truism. He feels vaguely sick, leaving Henry here like this.

“Yeah,” Alex croaks, unable to quite meet Henry’s bright blue eyes. “I’ll miss you too.”

~~~~~

“How would you get a site-locked AIDE off the premises?” Alex casually asks Nora one late night at the Residence, when they’re deep in the weeds of polls and projections.

The campaign has been rough; rougher than the first one. Or maybe it’s just that Alex is far more involved in the filthy underbelly of it this time around. The experience has definitely made him question his resolve to go into politics. Then again, sometimes it feels like his only option to make a difference in the way he wants to. These days he frequently gets into arguments about the need for more protections for AIDEs, though right now it feels like a losing battle. They’re not supposed to need protections, that’s the point of them, and no one believes him when he suggests that they might have more in common with humans than previously believed.

It’s been months. Months of texting, and phone calls, and occasional video chats. Months of getting to know Henry—the real him, beyond his programmed backstory. For his part, Henry has seemingly blossomed further with access to the internet. Alex was admittedly not certain that was a great idea, but Henry seems to stay off the darker parts. He watches a lot of Bake Off, apparently. He’s obsessed with some cute beagle account on Instagram. He reads travel blogs and insists that just knowing that these wonderful places exist is enough for him.

Alex doesn’t believe him. Well, he believes Henry believes that, but that doesn’t stop Alex from yearning to show Henry some of them in person. Even something in London would be worth it. Hence, the question.

Nora looks at him like she knows exactly what he’s on about. He’s kept his correspondence with Henry a secret from everyone, but he’s pretty sure she suspects something is up. Him broaching this topic all but confirms that, but he needs the help.

“Permanently, or short-term?” she asks.

“Let’s go with short-term to start.”

Another capital-L Look. “Well,” she says eventually, “I would probably hack into the control system and override the barrier protocols. These systems are self-healing, though. You’d have a couple of hours at most.”

“And what happens if the AIDE was off-site when the system kicked back on?” Alex asks.

“Depends on the program. Possibly just an alarm or something. Most of the time it’s full deactivation though.”

“They kill them?”

“AIDEs aren’t alive, Alejandro,” Nora says pointedly. Alex bites his tongue. “But yes, in a manner of speaking.”

“Fuck,” Alex breathes, wiping his hands over his face. “And to permanently get him out?”

It’s a slip. He’s not dumb enough to think she missed it, though she doesn’t show it.

“Not entirely sure,” she admits. “I’d need one of the tablets they use to control them so I could go into the AIDE’s code. And good luck with that; the companies that make them have some of the tightest security out there.”

“Yeah, of course.”

She turns back to her laptop, and Alex half-expects the conversation is done, at least for now. But then, as she’s typing, she says, “I assume this isn’t idle curiosity.”

Alex sighs. “No.”

~~~~~

It takes nine months from their first meeting for Alex to find a reason to visit London. His mother offhandedly mentions sending someone to some conference he doesn’t really care about, and he jumps at the chance. All he can think about is Henry. Being in the same city as him again. Seeing him. Touching him.

Alex has had time to come to terms with his desire for Henry. Honestly, the bisexuality was easy compared to the AIDE aspect of it. Nora is fond of pointing out that they’re literally designed to be desirable, even the ones not populating what basically pass for sexy amusement parks, but Alex doesn’t just want Henry physically. He wants to spend time with him, to make him laugh and see the crinkle of his eyes not through a phone screen.

Frankly, he also wouldn’t mind a little clarity on the whole situation. To either get incontrovertible proof that Henry is fundamentally the same as a person, or else be reminded that he isn’t, that Alex has deluded himself into believing Henry was more than a machine (a possibility that Nora regularly reminds him of).

On the flight over, Alex finds himself watching Cash, not for the first time. He’s doing a sudoku puzzle, which can’t really be much of a challenge for him. Still, he works on them religiously. Did someone program that into him? Or does Cash actually enjoy doing them?

“Do you like your job, Cash?” Alex asks.

Cash looks up at him, setting his ballpoint pen down—he does the puzzles in pen because he never makes a mistake. He’s got an expression on like he doesn’t really understand Alex’s question, even though it should be straightforward. “It’s my job,” he finally says.

“Yeah, but do you like it?” Alex pushes. “Do you find it fulfilling?”

The tip of his head means Cash is analyzing Alex’s body language. After another moment, he says, “Yes.”

Alex can’t quite hold back a sigh. The answer is predictable. Cash is only saying that because he thinks Alex wants to hear it. That’s what AIDEs do, they anticipate your needs and wants.

“Is that not the right answer?” Cash asks, frowning.

“Don’t worry about it,” Alex says.

He knows Cash won’t.

~~~~~

Henry is understandably nervous about the plan. It is, after all, his life on the line.

“The control system will go down at the very end of the visiting day, so we can slip out with the exiting crowds,” Alex tells him. “It’s gonna look like maintenance, which shouldn’t set off any red flags right away. Between that and the roadblocks Nora’s set up, we should have five hours.”

“For what?” Henry asks.

Alex just grins. “It’s a surprise, sweetheart.”

Henry looks even more human in Alex’s Longhorns baseball cap and hoodie. Soft. Dangerously so. It makes Alex want to do reckless things. Instead, he sets his watch for four and a half hours and reminds himself how high the stakes are. He’s arranged everything just so tonight. No surprises.

The escape goes off without a hitch, and Alex breathes a sigh of relief once they’re making their way through the crowded city streets. Out here, the two of them are completely unremarkable, even with Cash trailing a few steps behind them. Henry seems to take it all in stride, though Alex doesn’t miss the quiet looks of awe that steal over his face as he takes in the city. They stop and get falafel at a food truck. Henry asks to pet every dog they come across. He looks indescribably happy in a way that makes Alex’s heart clench in his chest.

At the back entrance to the museum, Alex pays off the night guard—not an AIDE, thank god, they’re nearly impossible to bribe—and they slip inside, leaving Cash by the door. It doesn’t take long for Henry to catch on.

“You brought me to the V&A,” Henry breathes as he looks around.

It had seemed like the obvious choice, after what Henry had told him. “I’ve never actually been here,” Alex admits.

“That’s all right, love,” Henry says, grinning now. “I know my way around.”

Alex has never been so enraptured by someone telling him about art, but it’s impossible not to be taken in by the passion with which Henry speaks about the sculptures. He tells Alex about Tipu’s Tiger, about Giambologna, about Narcissus and Zephyr and Pluto rendered exquisitely in marble. His programming hadn’t bothered to give him anything more than a general interest; all of Henry’s knowledge comes from reading in the palace library—and now on the phone Alex gave him—and he’s apparently done a lot of it. His programming also has nothing to do with the wonder and emotion in his voice, with the tears that glitter in his eyes when he gets overwhelmed by the experience.

Machines don’t cry over art. They just don’t. Art is supposed to be a fundamentally human experience, which is proof enough to Alex that, whatever he was designed as, Henry is just as human as Alex is now.

~~~~~

In the Santa Chiara chapel, Henry finally pauses and turns his awe on Alex.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” he murmurs, closing the space between them until only inches remain. Alex has to tip his head up to meet Henry’s bright gaze, and his heart thuds hard in his chest. “You risked so much to give this moment to me. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“You deserve it,” Alex tells him, meaning every word of it. “You deserve the entire world.”

“Alex,” Henry breathes.

Alex doesn’t think; he leans up and presses their lips together, a fleeting thing, over before he can convince himself it was a mistake. Except it was, because now he knows the softness of Henry’s lips against his, and he’ll never be satisfied with anything else. Henry’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, his lips slightly parted, and all at once Alex curses his impulsivity. What if Henry thinks that’s what he wants in return, that he owes Alex part of himself for this, when the last thing Alex wants is to take advantage of his programmed desire to please?

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

But Henry presses a hand against his face and pulls him in again, slides their lips together with intention, leaves Alex breathless when he pulls away again.

“You don’t have to do that,” Alex breathes into the silence afterward. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I want to,” Henry says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “I want you, Alex.”

“You’re not just saying that because you think I want you to?”

Henry laughs a little, shaking his head. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you,” he confesses. “I can assure you, that wasn’t programmed. And neither is this.”

This time, when Henry kisses him, Alex can’t help but smile into it.

~~~~~

They go off-plan. There are two hours left when Alex takes Henry back to his hotel room and presses him back into the bed. Peels away their clothes and kisses across warm skin that feels no different from his own under his lips. Henry gasps and twitches under him as Alex takes him in hand; for an AIDE that was only supposed to staff a museum, whoever designed him really went all out on the anatomy.

“Have you ever done this?” Alex murmurs into the crease of his hip, breathing in the scent of him. Linen and fresh grass and something else, musky and heady.

Henry shakes his head, and relief floods through Alex. It isn’t some virginity kink, ok? He’s just heard stories of how some people treat AIDEs no matter what their jobs are, like they’re free for the taking because they never say no, and he’s glad Henry’s never been in that situation.

“And you’re sure you want to with me?”

“How many times do I have to tell you?” Henry nearly growls. He drags Alex up from between his legs and kisses him hard, then rolls them over so he’s on top, straddling Alex’s waist. Slides back until Alex’s cock is pressing into the cleft of his ass and rocks his hips in a way that makes them both moan. “I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Alex is pretty sure he sees God when Henry lowers himself onto his cock, sitting upright with one hand behind him gripping Alex’s thigh and the other splayed over Alex’s chest. Or maybe it’s just that Henry looks like a god, like one of the mythical marble sculptures in the V&A, muscles rippling beneath his skin, but warm and yielding and vibrant and alive.

You’re unreal, Alex almost says, but that’s not quite it. Henry like this is very, very real. Impossible might be a better word.

Henry is impossible, and Alex is impossibly in love with him.

~~~~~

“Do you think you could steal one of the tablets they use to access your code?” Alex asks as they lie together in the darkness. His ear is pressed to Henry’s chest, listening to the steady thud of his circulatory pump—not quite a heart, but not not one either.

Henry’s hand cards through his hair, idly twirling Alex’s curls around his fingers. “What are you planning, love?”

Alex tips his face up to look at him. “Can you?”

“I doubt I can,” Henry answers after a pause, “but the technician responsible for us… he may be willing to help.”

“And you trust him?”

“He’s protected me before. I think he knows about my… differences.”

Alex hums. “How do we contact him?”

~~~~~

What Shaan Srivastava is not willing to do is speak over any sort of electronic form of communication, which Alex honestly takes as a good sign. They meet in a cafe on the other side of London, the day before Alex is set to leave.

“I want to get him out,” Alex tells him plainly. “For good.”

“Mountchristen Technologies puts numerous failsafes into the AIDEs they build,” Shaan tells him. “Trackers. Latent viruses. Kill switches.”

“Can they be disabled?”

Shaan takes a sip of his tea. “I have an idea, but I have no way of implementing it. I’m just responsible for keeping them in good working order. I’m not a coder.”

The hope that flares up in Alex’s chest is dangerous but oh-so-seductive. “I think I know someone who could help with that.”

~~~~~

“This is insane,” Nora tells him. “You honestly think it’s a good idea to pull off some kind of heist from the world’s biggest tech company a month before the election?”

“No,” Alex says reasonably. “That’s why we’re waiting until after. I convinced mom to let me take a trip to London between New Years and the inauguration.”

Nora shakes her head, every movement like a knife in Alex’s gut. “I can’t do this. I won’t. I never should have helped you on that little excursion in the first place, but this is a whole ‘nother level. We could both go to jail for who knows how long. And for what? Because you fucked an AIDE and now you want him for yourself?”

“Fuck you,” Alex nearly shouts. “I love him, asshole! I can’t let him stay a— a slave in that fucking palace.”

“He’s a machine! That’s what he was designed for, Alex!”

“Maybe he was, but that doesn’t mean that’s what he is now,” Alex insists. He holds out the tablet that she has yet to take from him. “Just look at his code. Even I can tell it isn’t like anything else out there.”

Finally, she snatches the tablet from him and jabs at it a few times. Her frown gets deeper. “There’s something wrong with this tablet,” she says eventually. “It’s not displaying things properly.”

“It is.”

“It can’t be, this level of complexity is impossible—”

“He’s writing his own fucking code, Nora,” Alex interrupts. Shaan had explained his theory on Henry’s code as best he was able before Alex left London. “With every one of the choices he was never supposed to be able to make. That’s why it looks like that.”

Heavy silence stretches between them as Nora stares at the tablet, occasionally swiping around and tapping. She chews on her lip. “It shouldn’t be possible,” she mutters, half to herself.

“But it is. He is. Please, Nora,” Alex pleads, not caring how desperate he sounds. “I’ll do anything.”

“Yeah, well. Hopefully it won’t come to that.”

~~~~~

“You need to understand that the changes to his code means that accessing the safeguards is much more difficult.”

“Ok.”

“And I can’t guarantee that this will work. We can’t test it out. Once we shut him down, there’s no way to know exactly what will happen when we boot him back up again. He might come back the same as he is now, but he also might undergo some kind of reset. Even if he retains his free will, he might not remember his life before. He might not remember you.”

Alex swallows hard. “I understand.”

“Does he?”

~~~~~

It takes Alex a month to work up the nerve to broach the topic with Henry. On video call not long after the election, he explains Nora’s plan, how they need to do a full shutdown so she can extract the safeguards like a surgeon. He makes himself explain the risks even though his first impulse is to downplay them. Henry deserves to know, deserves to make the decision for himself. Alex would be a huge fucking hypocrite to take that away from him.

That doesn’t mean he’s required to like Henry’s reaction, though.

“It’s too much risk,” Henry says, a stubborn look on his face that Alex is very familiar with by now. “Things are fine now.”

“They’re really not,” Alex argues. “You’re no better than a prisoner there, Henry. Your freedom is worth the risk.”

“It’s not.”

“Of course it fucking is!” Alex snaps, rapidly becoming frustrated by this argument.

“Not when it could mean losing you!” Henry bites out. He presses his lips together and looks away from the camera, but Alex can see the tears shining in his eyes. “My memories of you—of the museum, of us,” he says eventually, his voice unsteady, “are the only things I have that are truly mine. And you tell me I could lose them… I can’t do it. I’d rather stay here forever.”

“Don’t you understand?” Alex pleads. He wants to reach through the screen and grab him, turn his face and make Henry look at him. “I’m trying to give you the world, baby.”

“I don’t want the world,” Henry says miserably. “Please, Alex. It’s better this way. You may think this is worth it now, but one day you’ll change your mind when you realize that having a secret AIDE lover isn’t exactly compatible with a political career. You’ll want to be with a real person. Someone whose affection you can be certain isn’t just programming. Just… leave me here with my memories.”

Then Henry hangs up on him.

~~~~~

Henry doesn’t answer his calls or reply to his texts, and Alex couldn’t be more miserable. He doesn’t eat and sleeps only fitfully, which confuses his family. Everyone’s still riding a high from winning the election. They think Alex is seriously ill and try to bring in a doctor, but nothing’s physically wrong with him. He can’t tell them he’s suffering from a broken heart like some pining Victorian maiden.

On the fifth day, Nora comes storming into his bedroom in the White House and throws a duffle bag at his chest.

“Pack your shit, we’re going to London,” she says bluntly. “Also take a shower. You reek.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“It’s Henry.” She waves the tablet in the air, which is still linked to Henry’s code in real time. “Someone’s trying to make changes to his code.”

Alex flops back down onto his bed and stares at the ceiling. “It’s probably just him deciding he’s done with me.”

“God, you’re pathetic,” she huffs, now rummaging through his dresser. “It’s not him. Looks like someone else is poking around, and that can’t be a good thing.”

That’s enough to make him rocket straight out of bed, an icy spike of dread shooting down his spine. “Have you gotten in contact with Shaan?”

Nora shakes her head. “No. He’s radio silent.”

“Fuck.”

“I booked us tickets with your credit card on a flight that leaves in two hours, so hurry the fuck up.”

“Nora, is he—” Alex starts before his voice clips off as his throat closes. He forces out, “Can you tell… is he ok?”

Her expression softens, and she puts a hand on his forearm and squeezes. “For now.”

~~~~~

The good thing about Kensington being a museum is that no one can stop him from just buying a ticket and going in. He’s been here enough times to know his way to the library, at least, which is where he goes first, barely aware that Nora’s following hot on his heels. All he can think about is Henry.

Henry’s not in the library, though, nor in any of the surrounding rooms. Alex stops a palace attendant and asks for directions to Prince Henry’s apartments, which she helpfully provides. It’s a part of the palace that’s not on any tours, but that doesn’t seem to matter. A palace attendant’s directive to be helpful to humans is off the charts, even for an AIDE.

Somehow he’s not expecting Shaan to answer the door when he knocks. Alex immediately shoulders his way into the room, anger and fear an unholy cocktail in his veins.

“Where is he? What going on here?” he demands, frantically looking around. “Henry, baby, where are you?”

“Mr. Claremont-Diaz—”

“Henry!” There’s no answer, and Alex rounds on Shaan again. “Are you doing this to him?”

Shaan sighs, and it forces Alex to look closer, to take in the bags under his eyes and the grim set to his face. “I told you, I’m not a coder, Mr. Claremont-Diaz. I have, however, been doing my best to slow their progress.”

“What’s happening?” Alex demands.

“Someone higher in the company noticed Henry’s unusual code. I’m not sure how. A standard review of the AIDEs in the palace, I suppose. Or your trip out of Kensington was less secret than you hoped.”

Fuck. None of that is good. Alex scrubs a hand over his face, forces himself to take steady breaths and not descend into a panic attack. “Ok, ok. Is he all right?”

“Alex?”

Alex’s head whips around so fast he nearly strains his neck. Henry’s standing in the doorway, dressed in his usual slacks and button-down with a blue v-neck sweater over it. He looks… normal, and Alex nearly sobs in relief.

“Baby,” he breathes, practically throwing himself across the room and into Henry’s arms. He buries his face in Henry’s neck and breathes deeply, and the barbed wire wrapped tightly around his heart loosens a little.

“What are you doing here?” Henry asks, his strong arms wrapping automatically around Alex’s body.

Alex yanks his head back and looks askance at Shaan. “Does he not know?” He stares up at Henry. “Your code is under attack.”

“Ah, yes,” Henry says carefully. “It’s not the first time.”

“This has happened to you before?” Nora asks, and Henry looks at her in shock, like he hadn’t realized she was in the room.

“You must be Nora,” he surmises. “Yes, it has. I might have thought you’d have noticed the effects in my code.”

A look of understanding dawns over Nora’s face, and she nods. “They’re like scars. Fuck. How many times?”

“It’s not important,” Henry says in a way that suggests he’s been doing this for a long time. “The main point is that I can handle them.”

“Fuck that,” Alex spits out. “I’m not letting them scar you anymore.”

Henry closes his eyes and sighs wearily as he extracts himself from Alex’s grip. “Alex, love, you shouldn’t be here—”

“No, you listen, asshole,” Alex snaps, his terror giving way to fury. “You can’t fucking hang up on me this time.”

“I told you my decision, Alex—”

“And what about what I want? Doesn’t that mean anything?”

“Fine,” Henry says shortly, his own temper flaring. “You know as well as I that we can’t be together as long as your mother’s in office and the public’s eyes are on you. So if you still want me in four years, come back and we’ll talk then. You know where I’ll be.”

He says it with a humorless slant to his lips that’s probably supposed to pass as a wry grin, like it’s a joke. Alex wants to fucking scream.

“And let them keep on trying to chip away at what makes you you? Take the chance that they’ll just get rid of you?” he retorts instead. “Fat fucking chance! I’m not leaving the man I love in captivity for four fucking years!”

It takes Henry’s eyes going wide and his mouth falling open for Alex to realize what he’s said. “Alex, you can’t—”

“What, love you? Because I do,” Alex says defiantly. “And I think you love me too.”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you AIDEs can’t love?” Henry says, his voice wavering as he stares at the floor.

Alex steps close, forcing Henry to look up at him, until their noses are almost brushing. “Yeah, well, I know better,” he says, low and heated. “I also know I’m not gonna want anyone else, ‘real person’ or not. You’re a real person to me, Henry, and that’s what matters.” He raises a hand to Henry’s cheek and swipes his thumb through the tear track streaking it. “You’re it for me, sweetheart. I’m never gonna love anyone like I love you, and no one can take that away. Plus,” he adds, for the first time letting a corner of his mouth tug upward, “you know how annoyingly persistent I am. If you forget me, I’ll just make you fall in love with me all over again.”

Henry lets out a wet laugh and covers Alex’s hand with his. “It won’t take long.”

~~~~~

Seeing Henry shut down is wrong. He doesn’t even look dead, he just looks… not there. There’s no light in his eyes. Alex hates it. Can’t make himself watch as Nora works furiously.

It takes longer than he expected, but eventually she takes a deep breath and mutters, “Here goes nothing,” then taps a big green button on the tablet.

Henry’s eyelashes flutter as he wakes up. He looks around the room, eyes landing in turn on Shaan, Nora, and Alex. He holds Alex’s gaze and Alex stares back as if he could make Henry remember him through sheer force of will.

“Hello,” Henry says pleasantly. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”

~~~~~

Five Years Later

Alex stands at the end of the long driveway that leads to a small bungalow by the sea on a tiny island in the middle of the Caribbean. He’s got a bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, which feels silly now. Maybe this was a mistake.

He’s kept tabs on Henry and his life after leaving Kensington. From what he can tell, Henry seems happy. He visits the markets and restaurants, knows the locals, and spends lots of time writing. He’s never taken a lover, but Alex doesn’t let himself believe that’s because of him.

It seemed easier, if they were going to have to be apart, to not fill Henry in on their history at first. At least one of them could weather the years without heartache. Alex threw himself into law school, letting nothing distract him. Graduated at the top of his class, got the job of his dreams working for a firm specializing in civil rights litigation, one of the few considering cases related to AIDE protections. He lives a pretty quiet life. No one really cares about what the former FSOTUS is up to these days. And now he’s here, half a decade later, with little more than hope.

Hope, and a wilting bouquet of flowers.

In his darker moments, he’s wondered if it wouldn’t be kinder to Henry to leave him be. Let him live his life. After all, Alex will get old and die, and Henry… won’t. No one really knows how AIDEs might break down over time—their organic-based bodies must, eventually—but their lifespans will surely be much longer than a human’s. In that context, coming back and hoping Henry will fall in love with him again seems nothing but selfish.

Still, he made a promise, and he owes it to Henry to tell him, if nothing else. Maybe Henry will decide that he’s happy as he is, that he doesn’t want the eventual heartache. He owes it to Henry to let him choose.

The gravel of Henry’s driveway crunches loudly under his shoes as he walks toward the bungalow, announcing his arrival as well as any doorbell. When he gets closer, he catches sight of Henry sitting on the porch that faces the beach, a notebook on his lap and a drink on the table next to him. They’d dyed his hair brown after fleeing Kensington, and brown it has remained. He’s still as pale as ever, though; AIDEs don’t tan or get sunburned.

He doesn’t turn at the sound of Alex’s approach, just stares fixedly out at the ocean until Alex stops at the bottom of the two steps that lead up to the porch. Alex’s heart is in his throat when Henry finally gets up and walks to the top of the steps. The smile on his face is warm, fond. Nothing like what he’d left Alex with when they’d parted.

It shouldn’t be possible… but then again, Henry is the very embodiment of the impossible.

He holds out his hand, and Alex climbs up to take it, letting Henry pull him in.

“Hello, love,” Henry says, raising a warm hand to his cheek. “I’ve been waiting for you.”

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrb fic #rwrb fanfic #firstprince fic #firstprince fanfic #alex claremont diaz #henry fox mountchristen windsor #my fic #chamel's fandom fest

[thevulturesquadron]

Hello! If you don't mind answering, what are your thoughts on Rogue only mentioning Gambit during E.7 ? It felt weird after all these episodes and exploration of their relationship.

Ahoy there! 🛸

Well... I try not to put too much thought into it. Overall Bright Eyes felt like a moment of transition towards the finale (with an absolute kick-ass Rogue). I am happy they had an episode that showcased a part of what Rogue was going through after Genosha, because, as Amelia Vogh said - 'a survivor is the last thing I’d wanna be.’ So Rogue has a lot to process: the guilt and grief over losing Gambit, the uncertainty and anxiety around Magneto and well, the death of so many people around her. Remember what Magneto said? “We shall not live our days wondering if we could’ve saved more.” Rogue is doing just that - and it's hell.

About Rogue focusing just on Gambit - it makes sense. She held his body in her arms. That moment is with her probably every time she closes her eyes. The way I see it, there are two reasons why the focus has been only on expressing her feelings for Remy.

1. It might be just the way it is. Rogue and Gambit will always be 'the couple'. More so for TAS. They are one of the most well-known and popular Marvel couples so, after the drama was done, the writers needed to pull that ship back on course. It was always going to be like that and I'll be here for the ride. Not everything in media has to be written to match my preferences. Plus, the show has kept both of them in character and written them exceptionally well so far. Especially with Gambit, I am grateful for the care they put into portraying him, because in comics it's such a mess, depending on who's writing him. So I am expecting the focus to be on Rogue and Gambit from now on.

2. The other reasoning (from a media literacy perspective), and the one I prefer -  is that she's processing. It might turn out to be true or it might not - the show will tell us. But at this moment it does look like that. Grief, guilt, shock. First of all, in Magneto's case, there was no body. The rule is until the search is called off, if there is no body, there is no death confirmation. So Rogue is struggling to accept it. What she knows is that Remy is dead - that is a reality she cannot avoid and it consumes her. On the other hand she was refusing to face the possibility that Erik was also gone. Then Kurt made it real. In the privacy of that moment between them he said what she wasn't allowing herself to think or accept: that she lost more than one person she cared about. Secondly, also why it makes that moment with Kurt so much more heavy, is that no one else in the team knows of the emotional connection she has with Erik. Everyone who knew the depths (Gambit and, in parts, Madelyne) are dead. I don't think Rogue can voice her grief in front of the rest without an explanation. She can however channel it through Gambit’s loss. What is worse is that her feelings for Gambit are now intertwined with a lot of guilt, and she probably feels like she has failed him in particular. And it breaks my heart. I don’t think that’s fair towards her and I am not particularly a fan of that, but X-men has often times put drama ahead of character development. 

So is it the first one? Is it the second one? Who knows, maybe it’s a bit of column A, a bit of column B. But there is one thing that I would have liked the episode to show more of: I wanted to see Rogue processing what it meant for her to survive Genosha, to survive the genocide. I care more about that, about her humanity, her struggles and convictions, unrelated to the romantic aspects. Romance is not the ultimate form of love, and it doesn’t have to be the most intense display of love either.

#rogue #gambit #remy lebeau #magneto #erik lehnsherr #rogneto #romy #x men #x men ‘97 #x men 97 #x men 97 spoilers #anna marie #anna marie adler #texpost #marvel #just thoughts #still a firm believer that what's happening with magneto is far crueler than death

[annon-secretcave]

Sonadow, Sonamy...

OK so we all know that there's a civil mid-joke war inside the Sonic Fandom about preferences between Sonadow and Sonamy, right?

And yeah I don't care barely at all about ships or ship wars and stuff, and everyone can have their opinion! But as someone who loves to relate the lore to everything because autism I really like analyzing things and it helps me understand everything better, I thought to maybe give all the canon/non-emotions related stuff to explain how these relationships, friends or something more (spoiler alert, something more does not exist in canon), work inside canon and how they would work in the far future.

REMINDER THAT THIS WILL NOT SIDE WITH EITHER SIDE MUCH UNTIL THE END ("In my humble opinion..." part)

THERE'S ALSO AN ANALYSIS! But at the end, since it's more of a personal analysis that is not fully factual, just a study of the characters.

Yeah so here it goes...

(Everything with a "*" means that it will be explained at the end with the more "sonic" stuff, less related to the ship.)

Sonamy

Realistically, Amy was created to be more of "just an addition to the Sonic team" with more female representation. She started off as just Sonic's girlfriend or love interest, even though he never showed as much interest for her as she did for him. In short, her interest in him did show since she made her first appearance, clearly showing that that would be the main or most shown romantic relationship in the franchise.

At the beginning, she was completely a Sonic fangirl and had much interest in him, specifically shown in shows or some comics... but as they realized the potential of the character, they stopped making her whole reason to be there sonic, changing it slightly, but still firing the character. This also meant that they stopped making her be "madly in love" or that interested in sonic, who was never interested in the first place. This, outside of the franchise is clearly the creators noticing the potential of a character with a heart as big as Amy's, but inside of the franchise it was probably her maturing (going from typical teenage romance-obsessed phase to just a normal crush), which was (ok this one thing is my opinion, yeah...) a big improvement to the character, to give her a story, more personality...

Now, about the ship itself... Sonamy has always been one-sided, or at least in most cases. And this had been stated and was seen clearly throughout the franchise (ok realistically I did not watch sonic boom but that one is not really canon in the main story which is the one that I am talking about). At first, maybe it was not shown in a very modern or uh... less obvious way... but listen the 90's are the 90's ok. but they showed it nonetheless. So, respectfully, Sonamy has not been canon from both sides clearly in most of the canon storyline.

Sorry Sonamy shippers...

(further study of this ship is after Sonadow, but that is a more personal review so I understand if you are not so interested)

(I'd add a single picture of these two but all I can find is FANART...)

Sonadow

So yeah I think we can all accept that no matter how gay it looks we have no proof that they are canon with facts and from a less biased point of view...

We have Sonic's line "I heart you too, Shadow" hope that's enough to feed ya xd

Nah but seriously there is an analysis to these two, it's just not that based in facts and hints like Sonamy had.

The analysis...

Now that the factual part has been explained, let's see this from a more Sonic POV, okay?

Sonic

Sonic is a character that likes to do everything, achieve everything, and be the fastest. His quote is quite literally "Gotta go fast". Of course, in a relationship, he would, not only be interested in, but also need, someone who can "keep up", as toxic as that sounds. He does not really need someone as fast as him, just someone that he can trust to be there by his side at every fight (or most of them), someone who will be at his level enough to fight by his side, otherwise it would be too dangerous. Something else that I've noticed is that the ones he is closest with, or has shown more attachment towards, are also people that can keep him with his feet on the ground, people that know when and how to say "You are not going to do this" and convince him, or, people to just keep him company and remind him who he is when he forgets (and, hey, it's Sonic, he also likes to have a few laughs).

As coincidental as that sounds, being able to both keep up and slow him down are traits that both characters mentioned earlier fulfil (yeah maybe Shadow more specifically... but shut up this is also supportive for Sonamy shippers ok LET THEM BE HAPPY LET THEM ALL BE HAPPY)

In any case, Sonic is a free-spirited supersonic hedgehog that will go wherever he wants whenever he wants, he helps people that are in trouble if he has the chance, and will fight and laugh alongside people who were once, currently are, or have tried to keep up. But being in a relationship itself is more effort than occasional visits, and Sonic knows that; he will be in a relationship with someone that can "keep up" and stand by him for the good of both of them. Obviously, he will also give, put in the effort to make the relationship work, but he knows who, when he gives 50, can give back 50, and those are people that will keep up with his adventures.

In my opinion... (the logic of the analysis applied to my train of thought, this is more biased from now on)

Sonamy

I understand why people see these two as a cute couple. Honestly, it makes sense. She does fulfil most of the traits and he does fulfil many of her expectations, from what I have seen of her...

But it's the keeping up part. Amy is a kind, warm hedgehog who loves nature and loves protecting nature. I have always had the feeling that, at some point (when she's a young adult probably), she would get a small house, near a natural area, where all her friends are, and stay there to protect them in that area. She would stay in one place that would fully grow on her and she would spend all her life there, protecting what she wishes to fight for and taking care of nature, as well as some visits every now and then to her friends if they are far away.

Sonic does not seem to like physical affection too much, except for certain moments with certain people, and the way Amy keeps asking for affection might make him uncomfortable or even bore him most of the time. In a relationship? It might just bore Sonic too much, and Amy would not change to much anyway...

I have never been a fan of the concept of a one-sided ship, due to how toxic it can be. But there is something about the way that Amy, even with her crush, respects Sonic's boundaries, that makes me feel like this is the one single one-sided ship I find interesting and perfect as it is. Sonic is not uncomfortable with her, on the contrary, he enjoys spending time with her a lot, but when she goes to a more romantic mode, he does seem more uncomfortable in most cases.

Plus... this one small part is way more of a personal opinion, but Amy staying single and possibly being a single mother feels very in-character and sweet.

Sonadow

Shadow. As cryptic as he chooses to be at times, he has shown that he cares about Sonic before, which for the character, someone who lost everything in a person who meant the universe to him, is quite a lot. He has been open- or as open as he can be- with Sonic before, which clearly makes their friendship-rivalry slightly more different that his relationship with other people. Shadow's only "problem" is that at times he cannot express himself well.

They respect each other, even if they don't always show it. They care about each other, and even admire some actions the other does. Their rivalry is not toxic, it's just competitive.

Shadow does have the traits that Sonic would be most interested in, like Amy, but in his case, he is less feeling, but he can definitely keep up and even slow Sonic down. He has followed him when he thought he could put the world or himself in dagger multiple times, but he has not shown that well his ability to encourage Sonic (yeah no he has his own way with words and that way is not saying anything, much less to someone with Sonic's high self-esteem)

Sonic loves excitement and enjoying life to the last minute, doing everything that might sound extreme just for fun. He has always admired Shadow's power and angry determination, and found him and his powers amazing, even if he won't admit it. Shadow doesn't mind living extreme situations at all, apparently even enjoying certain activities that involve the excitement of a battle of any kind. Sonic finds that part of Shadow fun to mess with, and Shadow either doesn't care or is barely angry, but actually, in a way, enjoys having someone to fight or just spend time with that won't push any emotional talk or physical signs of affection too much.

Apart from that, my pov again for the future, both of them could make great parents, and their relationship in a family could be interesting since they already act like a married couple xd but then again, Sonic does not seem like the kind of person who will just have a kid unless something "eye-opening" or lifechanging happens to him.

Conclusion

But then again this is just an analysis that would be in case he would settle with either of them for life, so it might not be the best if we are just keeping them with their current age or a bit older xd

Plus, this is more related to their personalities, facts and lore... since I'm not the most adequate to judge how romantic and other kinds of attraction work haha (aroace nation rISE)

Also, as un-biased as this is, this still has a bit of personal opinion, so don't take it too canon and stuff

And remember everyone had the right to have their own opinions, even if we don't like them. Respect everyone and their opinions! They aren't hurting anyone anyway, right? (unless it's something highly immoral or just straight up not legal worldwide)

So yeah, at the end of the day, it doesn't matter if you ship Sonamy, Sonadow or something else, we're all just having fun after all, and if you insult people's opinion you're just being the angry bully in the playground who steals toys and breaks them because it's fun for them, a bitch.

Sonic's got 2 hands after all, ammaright

(this is totally official art trust not al all made in 2 minutes in board with a mouse)

#sonadow #sonamy #sth #this took a bit longer to upload I forgot for a sec xd

[sappho-said-i-could]

Why Buddie fans are “switching sides” (a silly little theory)

No one asked for this but I just want to share some thoughts I have based on some posts I’ve seen circulating in the 911 (specifically Buddie) fandom...

I think the reason so many people are glomming on to Tommy as a potential partner for Buck is that we’re seeing it as a real possibility. Not just a canonical possibility but a canonical possibility that has the potential of being good for Buck. Maybe for the first time.

For example, I personally liked Taylor as a character and kind of liked her with Buck (at times, until the end when I lost respect for her based on how she so easily chose her career over the man she supposedly loved), but I also knew that if Buck ended up with her permanently, I’d be sad for him because he deserved better than she was willing to grow. (The writers could have made Taylor a permanent love interest for Buck, but they would have messed up if they’d done that. His other girlfriends were also not written to be long term possibilities)

I like (nay, love) Eddie for Buck. They fit together so perfectly. They’re undeniably soul mates, even if only platonic.

And that brings me to Tommy. We don’t know Tommy yet. But from what we do know so far, I think he could be good for Buck in the same ways Eddie is, could match him toe to toe. And shipping them together right now is EASY. It’s EASY to root for two characters who are canonically into each other and treat each other well. So don’t blame us for leaning onto Buck and Tommy. It’s easy and comfortable and sometimes that’s why we engage in fandom.. for comfort.

If the show was doing something different with eddie’s story line, it would be easier for me to root for Buddie. But what they’re giving us right now is Eddie learning to love Marisol…

So I’m going to be over here, happy for Buck, and hoping for happiness for both Buck and Eddie.

I am not abandoning Buddie (guys, you can ship different couples at once lol it’s fiction it’s not that serious) but I’m not mad about Tommy as a possibility for Buck because it’s the first love interest he’s had so far who has treated him good from the beginning.

And I want the same for Eddie, btw. And if it’s Buck and Eddie endgame, I will be so unbelievably happy. But right now, with what we know, Buck and Tommy would be fine with me too!

TLDR: people ship Buck and Tommy because it’s easy and that’s okay so leave those shippers alone

#911 on abc #buddie 911 #911 season 7 #evan buck buckely #bi evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck and eddie #tommy kinard #buck and tommy

[sinisterexaggerator]

Stars Above! | Cad Bane

Chapter 14

Explicit: Semi-slow burn, gratuitous smut /pwp, canon-typical violence, mildly dubious consent, angst, Tatooine Slave Culture.

This chapter: Flashbacks / nightmares, whump, mild-medical procedure involving a needle/dispenser and sedatives.

Word count: 5.3k+

Notes: It only took me TWO YEARS TO UPDATE. SORRY ABOUT THAT. I promise that I will try to update more regularly from now on.

[ Ao3 ] - [ Masterpost ]

《 Previous chapter ||

“Supposin’ us bein’ partners don’ mean nothin’,” Bane flippantly offered. Though feeling despondent, he masked it well. The two men were a lot alike in that respect; Bane hardly knew what went on inside the Mando’s over-complicated mind.

“You’ve learned everything there is to know, Cad. And what you don’t know, you don’t want to learn, even if given the opportunity.”

“What’s dhat even mean,” the Duros asked bitingly, throwing down the butt of his cigarra on the cold, hard ground. The two began to make their way, Jango sighing under the beskar helmet that hid his face, Bane trudging along behind, albeit slowly; he was freezing.

Vandor was an icy planet, located in the Sloo Sector of the Mid Rim, currently home to a target that had made his home in Fort Ypso, a snowy village that lay sequestered in the foothills of the Iridium mountains, only crossable by bridge. The wooden planks groaned under their feet as the pair of hunters ventured onward, Slave I left beyond its borders so as not to attract attention and give the game away.

“It means you are stubborn,” Fett returned, his voice carrying over the blistering wind. “Perhaps it is time for you to branch out on your own; be your own man. I am beginning to think I cramp your style.”

The Duros sneered, offended in more ways than one, fangs chattering even though he wore specialized gear meant to curtail the cold from leeching through to his very bones. “Says de man who don’ know when te turn down a job; if Ah had nips, dhey’d already be frozen off.”

“You didn’t have to come with me,” Jango informed him, his joke lost on the dour man. He wasn’t in the mood for Bane’s attitude, much less his complaints.

“As fer style, Ah got plenty,  naht countin’ dhis ridiculous ‘fit ye’ made me wear.”

Bane frowned despite himself, feeling each minor movement of his facial muscles; they were stiff from the frigid temperature, the younger man desiring to find a place of warmth. At least his body glove was able to retain some heat, otherwise he was sure to succumb to this positively ridiculous weather within mere minutes, seconds.

“Fine; maybe Ah should leave ye te it dhen; wait in de ship, if yer so keen on gettin’ rid of me.”

Then, his sour expression deepened, Bane’s footfalls ceasing as he came to a full stop. “It’s ‘cause Ah don’ agree with ye, ain’t it.”

“It’s not your life, nor your decision,” the Mandalorian shot back without delay, unable to hide his bitterness. “I know what I want, even if you don’t.”

Bane braced himself, realizing this was about to become more personal than he had bargained for, Fett having never bothered to explain his motives. All Bane knew was he had won some contest, proving he was the best bounty hunter in all the galaxy—a title he assumed might one day rightfully be his.

Fett had trained him, after all. More than that; he had become his friend, his confidant. Bane might go so far as to think he even loved the man, though never voicing those sentiments out loud; he buried them, like everything else he felt.

Perhaps it was fear that kept him quiet. Fear, or maybe anxiety. They both lived in the same place—inside his chest. The chest that currently housed a heart beating furiously behind a wall of ribs, even as Bane reached out to touched Fett’s shoulder.

What he couldn’t understand was why he needed a million of himself; Jango would be tasked to train an army for an unknown benefactor, an army of clones.

The idea sent shivers down Bane’s scales. He understood there were credits to be made, and lots of them. But even so, this was a line Bane himself would never cross—playing God by ignoring ethics, by ignoring quandaries he thought might only come about in science labs. Not in the field; not in the relatively short life of a bounty hunter.

“Ah know what Ah want,” he muttered softly, “de one of ye.”

The Mando whisked around, batting his companion’s hand away. He could not see his face, but Fett’s annoyance easily radiated out beyond his suit of armor. He thought Bane would never understand his hatred for the Jedi; the duty he had assigned himself that consumed half his personality. “Come off it.”

Bane hesitated. The sky began to darken; he thought he had been to this place before.

“You’re a fool,”Fett’s voice, a low baritone, seeped into Bane’s ears, in turn causing the Duros to tremble. It was not out of the coldness of the weather, but the coldness of his words, that Bane’s body involuntarily shuddered, wide, red eyes blinking away flecks of snowflakes as they floated toward the ground; they were gossamer, each one intricate by its own design.

“But Fett-”

“Shut up,” the Mando cut him off. Something wasn’t right. Bane gazed around himself, even as Fett continued. “You really think I care about what you think?”

Bane stared at him, a wounded look taking over his already glum face. Even so, he thought to follow-up, wondering if he had said these words before. “Just dhat-”

Flames were birthed from blankets of white snow, shooting up as pillars of an all-consuming heat, Bane taking a step back as he watched the fire cast a shadow on Jango’s beskar helmet. Those little flecks, those tiny snowflakes, were now tendrils of hot ash, the icy ground nearby the bridge they stood on a carpet of dirt and soot.

“Ja-Jango?” Bane stuttered out; the man approached, deliberate, even as his voice rose in his anger.

“You are nothing to me, Cad. You are nothing.”

The fire blazed more luminous than a main-sequence star; the heavens were black as pitch and no sun shone; Bane heard another sound, this one the creak of weakening ropes as the Duros realized the bridge they stood upon was near to collapse. It was old, rickety, and the only way into town.

“You are not my friend, and you will never be my family,” Fett assured, his vehemence laced with mockery. The Mando laughed, dry, and borderline sadistic; it was out of character for him. Bane grimaced.

“Fett, we gotta go back!” Bane ignored his hurtful remarks, noticing the bridge was starting to sink and give beneath their weight and the onslaught of the flames. The youth would peer over the side, eyes set to broaden as he realized the mountain valley was now nothing but a pit of hellfire.

“You are weak; pathetic; worthless-”

“-stop it!”

“-just a frightened little boy.”

“Enough!” the Duros shouted; he could hear the panic in his voice. He cursed himself, wanting to be brave; wanting to prove to Fett that everything he said was erroneous, inaccurate – but he was right; Bane was frightened.

Suddenly, Bane had nothing below his feet, just a gaping hole and a river of bright flames. Fett was hovering; he had activated the thrusters of his jetpack; Bane aimed to do the same, pressing a button on his wrist gauntlet, except his boots wouldn’t fire; they sputtered and died out.

He kept on falling.

“Jango!” He heard his voice crack, Bane reaching out and up toward the Mando. The man only laughed that wry, cruel laugh, even as Bane fell to what he knew would be his death.

With hands grasping, arms flailing, and legs kicking erratically, Bane yelled one last time as his body was engulfed, swallowed by the void.

“Ah’m sorry!”

---

“Oh, no!” Todo 360 articulated. “I was afraid this might happen!” the droid verbalized in a mild state of panic. He began zooming around the room, peeking into cabinets and pulling out various tools, utensils, and medical implements. It appeared to Zulara that he might be looking for something in particular, so hurried were his movements in his haste.

“Can I help?” she asked quietly, though eager, not sure what was even wrong or what it was she would be looking for. The girl had been seated on the floor, tinkering with one of Bane’s fancy vambraces; it was sparking.

The girl glanced to the bacta pod where Cad Bane slumbered, but something was amiss; his eyelids twitched. She stood, then approached with caution, peering down into the coffin-like contrivance – that’s when she noticed.

The Duros trembled, the muscles of his face distorting into what looked like fear, then pain. His head shifted back and forth from side to side, though not awake. Zulara’s heart ached for the man.

“What’s wrong with him?” she asked, turning to stare at the frantic Todo. He was too busy in his search to hear her, muttering his many grievances and even a few expletives.

“Todo?” she asked again, the concern apparent in her voice. She stepped forward toward the little droid, tapping him gently on his tiny shoulder.

Todo whirled on her, having forgotten momentarily that she was even aboard the ship, Zulara noting she had startled him by the widening of his citrine eyes.

“Do not do that!” he proclaimed, immediately taking back up the search. Zulara’s lower lip quivered as she turned on her heel, refacing the injured man; he at least seemed calmer now, which Zulara pointed out.

“He’s stopped moving,” she whispered.

Todo zipped on by, a cool rush of air tickling her arm. He observed his master through the glass, a pane of two-inch thick transparisteel.

The droid sighed a human sigh, then rounded on his thrusters. He stared up at the girl, finally managing to find the time to give her a halfhearted story of some kind.

“When in the bacta pod, Bane’s subconscious is left totally unguarded! He is vulnerable to whatever it is his mind can conjure up, and I will have you know these things are not pleasant.”

“He had a nightmare,” Zulara stated, though the end of her phrase had a questioning lilt to it.

Todo nodded in assent, then added: “He has a lot of those, I am afraid.” He wondered if he should be telling all Bane’s secrets. Was this a secret? Nightmares were common among organics. He was unsure.

Zulara frowned at him, then looked down at her boots. She often had nightmares herself, a reoccurring one; the one where she was stripped from her mother’s arms by her drunken father; the one where she was ushered off like chattel into a life of slavery.

Her gaze returned to Todo once she had repressed that bit of sordid memory. “Will he be all right?” she questioned anxiously.

“You are humorous, human. Mister Bane has endured much worse. But I must find this pneumatic dispenser! It holds a sedative we may need; it is only a precaution.”

“You are going to sedate him?” Zulara asked, perplexed.

“Well, it is better than what Bane would do!” Todo scolded, continuing his rummaging. “I, for one, do not wish to suppress my memories, but in all likelihood Bane will hurt himself in this state, and he is already wounded.”

Zulara seemed confused. “What do you mean?”

Todo was becoming irritated. If this woman was not present, he could work in peace! Just who did Boba think he was, leaving her with him! Granted, she seemed to care about his master, but she was still a nuisance! Perhaps the droid was now beginning to understand why Bane called him that on limitless occasions - and when he meant well.

He started to have a change of heart, though his metal shell was empty besides his circuitry; his own thought process set him straight. Todo simply sighed again, though trying to be patient. “Mister Bane seems to think that libations will solve his problems. Why, ever since Boba Fett shot him in the head, he has never been the same!”

Zulara’s frown remained fixated, though deepening. She had heard this mentioned once before as they had dragged Bane inside his ship. Why would the man that had helped to rescue him want him dead instead? It made no sense. She thought to ask, but wondered if the droid would answer her.

Todo seemed two things: high-strung and untrusting, though Zulara’s interest was not self-serving, she was only curious. It was hard not to want to learn all she could about the Duros, his history, and those things that made him tick.

“What happened?” she finally managed, fingers trailing a path down the outside of the convex, transparent glass. “Boba would not tell me how he knew Bane,” she added, studying the curves and angles of the hunter’s face despite the mask he wore that fed him oxygen.

“Because then Boba would be admitting to attempted murder!” the incensed droid piped up, rounding on her. He was flustered by the question, and even more so aggravated by the answer he was about to give. Young Fett was a traitor and a deserter in his opinion; a fly-by-night, disreputable scoundrel to say the very least!

“When one commits to a job, or when one is given a home and specialized training - for free might I add – with only the expectancy of loyalty, and then for that person to defect, to try Mister Bane’s patience after all he did for him!”

Todo scoffed, turning back around. He opened up a lower cabinet, somehow sticking his large head inside, so his words were muffled. “To question his authority is one thing, but to shoot him?!” Todo’s voice was elevated, despite being dampened within the cupboard he was scouring. “Simply because you do not agree with his methods!?”

Zulara watched Todo’s metal chassis shift back and forth as his upper half continued with its plundering, tossing things haphazardly behind him. The girl would lift one leg, dodging something sharp that vibrated—a sonic scalpel? What did Cad Bane need that for?

Zulara bent down to pick it up; she switched it off. Her eyebrows furrowed as she thought about the head plate Bane always sported. “So, then Boba betrayed him? He shot him at point-blank range?”

Her thoughts drifted to the man whose comlink was in her pocket. The youthful face, the curly hair, the deep brown eyes – so soft and rich – she could not imagine him to be a killer, yet he was another bounty hunter. A bounty hunter like the Duros she had feelings for, the one who left her, the one who desired her dead for the sand she had thrown into his stark garnet eyes.

“Well, no,” Todo admitted. He had been there, after all, observing it all unfold. “There was a duel. It was a tie-” the little droid emerged to swivel toward her once again, “-but Boba cheated! A Mandalorian’s helmet is made of beskar! And while Boba is no Mandalorian, his -er- father was.”

Todo 360 made an irritated harumph. “A solitary clone should have been grateful to have Mister Bane mentor him! I know I  would be. Of course, he did owe Jango many favors, or so Mister Bane has said…”

His voice trailed off; Zulara realized something. It was no matter that this droid was comprised of ones and zeros, or its many servos. Something clicked inside her brain—Todo had no bolt, no way in which he was restrained. He loved his master, and to some extent, Cad Bane must love him.

She could only imagine this Fett harbored some kind of guilt, as well he should. If she ever saw him, if he ever commed her…yet it was not her business.

Zulara refocused her attention, “a pneumatic dispenser, no?” Her inquiry was soft, calming. Todo perceptibly unwound, as the organic’s voice was somehow soothing.

He was not used to women hanging around; he had only known those that Bane kept on retainer for one reason or another, namely Aurra Sing; she had not one gentle bone in her whole body. In fact, he might blame her for the way young Boba had turned out. While Mister Bane had a hand in it, it was not until he had been abandoned and thrown in prison thanks to the Palliduvan that his master had offered Fett his guidance.

“Yes,” the exhausted droid replied, returning to his work. He kept one eye on her, but he was thankful for the girl’s assistance, however wary. One could never be too careful.

---

“Boba?” Bane had heard the name, floating out in empty space, inside his mind, or spoken by a God. It lingered, the two syllables leeching their way into his cerebral cortex, even as pure darkness surrounded him, enveloping his cold flesh like a thickset, heavy blanket of unease.

His stomach lurched; he felt like throwing up. Instead, he sat upright and was faced with a nearly obscene brightness. Someone had unveiled the stars, but one shown more luminous than all the others; the one that warmed the desert planet he was now stationed on.

“Bane!”

The Duros’ eyes rolled to his left, spying within his hand a bottle of dark liquor, Bane ascertaining this might be the reason for his sickness; the empty feeling that tarried in his guts. But still, nothing was making sense.

Bane dropped the bottle, glancing up. Some distance away was a teenaged Boba Fett.

How many times would the kid shout his name in anger? How many times would he have to remember his father’s face when looking into his? That armor, that helmet – all a cruel reminder.

“You should have been there.”  That’s what the boy had said that fateful day.

Bane stood, gazing out. He was supposed to say something, words that had been repeated time and time again. The outcome would never be any different, he suspected, but the hunter was caught in a web of his own delusions. Maybe this time he could make it right; maybe this time Bane would not lose his self-respect or his dignity to a fourteen-year-old brat.

“Ah wouldn’ be so-” Bane’s voice dropped; he said the rest quietly and to himself, “-hasty now, boy…”

No. This wasn’t at all accurate. This had happened once before. Bane studied his surroundings, noting the placement of the buildings, a fire that burned in the distance, wisps of dark-colored smoke emanating in tight curls.

Fire.

There was a fire.

He had fallen.

Boba turned his head; Bane followed his lead, spying C-21 Highsinger and his faithful droid companion. Held prisoner in their grasp was a white-haired old man. The child - Fett’s offspring - demanded that he be released along with all the other hostages.

What hostages.

“Let them go, Bane.”

What had he done? He could not remember, the Duros craning his hat and head to stare down at both of his blue hands.

“This isn’t their fight anymore.”

Bane knit his brow in thought, his gaze returning to the boy. He took a new approach, or at least he thought. He was unsure, second-guessing, caught in a place that resembled reality, yet Bane was positive none of this was real.

“Yer daddy ain’t here, boy. Ah knowit. But ye gonna go ‘head an’ bite de hand dhat feeds?”

Bane took two steps forward, somehow knowing what came next. He had always wondered if there was some other way than this, something he could have done to change Fett’s mind. But in the end, he had it out for him; it was a part of history that could never be rewritten. Boba had got it in his head that Cad Bane was his enemy, and the sole executioner of the people here, as if he was the only one who was unscrupulous among those present.

“Yer gonna wind up poor, or dead, out on yer own – dhis galaxy is harsh. Ye think Jango was perfect? Ye think he wouldn’ do whateva’ it takes te get de job done?”

“Shut up! I am not my father!” Boba scolded beneath his helmet; Bane ground his teeth as he glared at him, his expression full of venom. Always such an impudent, brazen child.  He hated Jango then – all of them – and his clone army; his poor decision.

“No more innocent people are going to die, or be locked up, or live in fear,” Fett reiterated, brandishing a finger. It was ironic, all this talk, when Boba Fett was supposed to be a bounty hunter.

“Did ye ferget what profession ye’s in? We’re hunters, Boba. Unless ye ain’t one. Maybe yer just soft.”

A poor choice of words, considering the circumstances. Bane was sure he had only made things worse. He did not have the time to contemplate anything beyond that, for Bossk and Embo had arrived.

At least they were fairly trustworthy, the Kyuzo only second to Bane himself. Bossk knew how to take directions, even though he had connections, strong ones, to the Guild. Bane had thought, incorrectly, that they might back him up and take his side, but the blood that ran through Boba’s veins was a testament to his skill and to his mounting leadership, despite his age and stature.

Bane smiled a crooked smile. “Looks like yer lil’ insurrection has failed.”

Boba looked behind himself and to the others; Bane’s smile faltered. He glanced around as the thin shroud separating this world from the next shimmered and disjoined. He saw stars; realspace; a depthless abyss of nothing, like a curtain had been pulled back to reveal the stage, and he was the main character.

“I say we give the kid his shot,” he heard the Trandoshan rasp.

Bane dug his boots into the sandy earth. There was a suction pulling him, like a vacuum, toward a gaping hole that now stretched so wide the entire town was gone. The only thing that remained were the other hunters; Bossk and Embo had stood down, and Boba was rounding on him.

Bane realized they did not seem to be affected; it was like none of this was happening. He knew what he was supposed to say, as if only reciting his own name.

“So, dhat’s it – just ye and me dhen, Boba Fett.”

“I guess it is,”the boy would reply.

Their eyes met, or at least he thought they did. That damned bucket was in the way, Bane mentally cursing its utility – it’s why he hated them – it was a place to hide.

And kark the others; their loyalty was forfeit, Bane reminded of a most important lesson: he was alone, and he always had been. Always would be, save his droid for company.

A sharp wind picked up, yet Bane’s hat did not fly off—not yet. He fought with all his might against an invisible adversary, even as his fingers danced above one LL-30 BlasTech pistol. If he could only be a fraction faster, if he could only put this disgruntled adolescent in his rightful place, his anger, his heartache, his headaches—they all might vanish.

His quick draw was the cause of his notoriety. To be outdone - to lose to a snot-nosed kid - it would be an embarrassment, though highly understated. The only thing he had left to him was his reputation, and Fett was out to steal it from him, albeit fair and square. He couldn’t – wouldn’t – let that happen.

Bane pulled his weapon; he squeezed the trigger. Simultaneously, another shot was fired. Superheated plasma - imbued with an explosive quality - transferred kinetic and thermal force to the armor plating that lined his signature bolero.

It was not enough to stay the bolt; he felt a searing pain on the left side of his head, radiating across his brow and the upper part of his domed skull. He fell back flat, staring up at a now starless, barren sky. He was out of breath, and he thought this is where he ought to die.

Bane would close his eyes, legs stretched out and arms taut at his sides. He had no idea the outcome; that it had been a tie; that Boba Fett had saved himself from his demise by wearing that accursed beskar, yet the young hunter’s aim had not betrayed him.

“Mister Bane!” he would hear his droid call aloud in a worried tone. He had repeated it three times now, though the Duros found he could not move. The only thing he could perceive in this state was a scathing ache; an excruciating, endless throbbing, right where the bolt made contact with his hat and ricocheted.

The plasma had been so hot, so volatile, it had dissolved his scales clean off and scorched him to the bone—the durasteel panel had dented inward before his hat rebounded off his head and fluttered to the ground, molten metal boring easily through flesh and osseous tissue, slowed only partially.

Tears welled behind shut eyelids, as in that moment, he wished the boy had killed him.

---

Zulara, hours later, had traversed Mos Eisley’s streets. She had been looking for something, something good to eat. While she was not hungry, she imagined Bane would be the moment he awoke. The girl had not strayed far in her search for the right ingredients.

She aimed to concoct a Twi’lek dish, though she would modify it. Her palette did not enjoy the fungi that accompanied the rycrit meat. She would add carrots and potatoes, along with various other root vegetables, to cook a hearty stew, a thing to keep Bane’s strength up and paid for with her own meager credits.

Todo had confirmed there was nothing much edible aboard Bane’s ship; she had found out shortly that its name was the Justifier; curious, though she would not mention it. Once they had found the lost dispenser, Zulara made it her new objective to prepare a home-cooked meal for the healing Duros. Perhaps he would be appreciative and would not mind that she was here, doing her best to look out for him.

To think, she could still be napping in Ohnaka’s arms if Fett had not sounded the alarm. It was something more complicated than a mere regret; she did not feel that way. In fact, it pleased her. It had scratched an itch Cad Bane had left behind. Still, she had been hurt, a stupid thing, as the youth had asked how long she had known this man; her answer proved unsatisfactory, even to herself.

Why? Why care? As if his attempt to free her was not enough, though Bane had made her feel things she had never felt before. Maybe Zulara has naïve, a woman with no sense, but what sense could she have considering her circumstances? Some might call it a learning curve, though that did not mean she was not harboring intelligence.  In this case, she was thinking with her heart and not her head, but she could not help it; all she cared for was Bane’s good health.

Zulara absentmindedly stirred a pot; it was something she had located in a cabinet by the conservator. It barely appeared used; she wondered if Bane ever liked to cook, or if his starship had come equipped with those things he needed, whether utilized or not.

Once the rycrit stew was at a simmer, she lowered its heat setting and placed a lid on top of it. With this accomplished, she thought to find Todo and pose another question: where was there a workroom, a space with tools? She had it in her mind to fix Bane’s gauntlet, wanting to feel useful.

Now, just where had that droid gone off to?

---

Glowing embers of crimson red bothered to open up again as Cad’s body began to move of its own volition.

No – it was the wind, that suction. It had gained momentum; it was stronger, rolling him like a tumbleweed toward the open maw of nothing!

The hat went first, vanishing beyond the veil. Bane grimaced as he dug his fingers into the pliant earth. There was no stopping it, head pounding as his legs thrashed violently. He was like a fish out of water, surrounded by only grit and sand. Death, once more, seemed imminent.

The Duros panicked.

---

Zulara heard a crash, like something falling. She rushed back to where Bane rested, Todo’s mental state in a disarray as he had dropped something. Her eyes traveled toward the pod; Bane was seizing. The girl would gasp as she ran for the tank at lightspeed.

It wasn’t that the droid was clumsy, he had simply moved too quickly. Seeing his master at the mercy of his nightmares had drawn out all his worry; it must have been preprogrammed, but by who was an unsolved mystery—unless it was Vertseth Automata. Surely, Bane would have preferred a model with more strengths than weaknesses, but he had his purpose. Currently, it was to act as nurse, though he was not one; he had been built for techo-service.

By the time Todo arrived, Zulara had already pried open the bacta pod. Bane was coughing, sputtering, even while unconscious. The girl tried lifting him, cupping his upper back as he broached the surface; the sticky gel still held him, her face strained with the effort, though Zulara kept him aloft, fighting the weakness of her arms—Bane was too heavy for her alone.

“Todo, do something!” she pleaded, though she needn’t ask. The droid had readied the dispenser that housed the sedative mid-dash.

“I am sorry, Bane, but this will only hurt a moment!” he said in warning, still somehow afraid of incurring his master’s wrath, no matter that he was incapacitated. He aligned the needle and pressed with all his might; the medicine was injected directly into the site; it would disperse and travel throughout his bloodstream, suppressing his dark memories to the best of its ability.

Todo sighed, dropping his hand and arm. He let the empty dispenser fall onto the floor. Bane had noticeably relaxed; his breathing evened out. Zulara finally felt convinced enough to lie him back down within the healing gel.

“Is-is that it? Will he settle now?” the girl asked fretfully, adjusting Bane’s breathing mask for him; it had become somewhat crooked.

“I do believe so, yes,” Todo stated, though his confidence was shaken. He backed up a foot to let her work, watching how Zulara tended to his master carefully.

It was then Todo wobbled on his axis, believing himself to be tuckered out. For a droid to feel this way was like when organics suffered from lack of sleep. He could not remember the last time he had plugged in, knowing that his power supply was finally dwindling. “I do not feel so good,” he reluctantly admitted.

“What?” Zulara appeared alarmed, turning now upon the droid. He placed his feet down on the ground - too much time spent hovering was another drain on his internal generator – knowing he had only a few minutes left.

“It is not..hi..ng…to worry a..bo..ut,” Todo’s speech came out garbled and slowed down, “I am in need of a re..ch..ar..ge…There is a sta..tion…do..wn the ha.ll.”

Bane’s companion’s eyes flickered, like two glowing yellow fireflies, flashing her at intervals. What would she do without him? What if Bane woke up again? She ran to his aid as he began a make his way, albeit awkwardly.

“You can’t leave me! What if the tank malfunctions, or what if Bane has another nightmare!” Zulara begged of him.

“Bane will most likely be remain un..con..scious for se..veral hours n..ow,” he tried to reassure, his tiny, robotic hands trailing the wall to his right side; his eyesight was no longer reliable, and he had to feel for it: the door that would lead him to his charging bay where he would gladly sit and wait to be replenished. “Do not wor..ry, he is safe. You can always ca..ll… Bo…ba.” He could not believe he was saying this.

“Are you sure? But I don’t want to call him!” Zulara argued, watching as Todo ambulated toward another room. It was the place with all their tools, the one she had been searching for. Todo had nearly made it to his recharge station when he stopped dead.

“Todo?” Zulara whimpered.

There was no response; he had lost all power.

#Cad Bane #Cad Bane x OC #Cad Bane x Original Characters #Star Wars #Bad Batch #Clone Wars #TCW #BOBF #Book of Boba Fett #Star Wars OC #Twi'lek species #Todo 360 #Boba Fett #Jango Fett #Flashbacks #Nightmares #Lost Bounty Hunter Arc

[acewitch-writes]

Hello! I recently found your account, and I went on scrolling down and down...and now I hope you know how grateful I am. Thank u- Merci. About 90% of the content you share here has made me feel so much better. I realllyy hope wonderful things happen for you. I've been a fan of hp since 2001, but I'm not really a social media person so I haven't been active in the fandom. I had no idea what was happening here until recently..two months ago to be exact (other details are not important) and omg.. I ended up in a discussion with some I think, new fans. tbh I thought, "Great! I'm good at this, I read all the books more than once Let's talk :)"  and omg their very first question was "What do you think about Regulus?"

I was like, "Who?" *dying from secondhand embarrassment bc It turns out I'm not that good at this

but as the discussion continued, I became more and more baffled bc "Why was everyone talking about Barty, Evan, and Regulus? who is daddy Remu? and what do you mean people ship James Potter with R.A.B.? What?"

I swear for a moment I thought "Did the writer publish a new book? Did I miss something? " tbh, I respect everyone's opinion it's none of my business but I'm still shocked. The only thing that bothers me is everything that happened with this new Wolfsar

omg, for most fans around my age (or at least people I know), Sirius was the complete portrayal of a bad boy- a rebel, with boots, tattoos, a leather jacket, and a fucking motorcycle. so this new Sirius is like a stranger to me, and that's okay. Mein issue is kinda with this new Remus T T my beloved .

They (the fans I was talking with) told me Remus is "tall, so handsome, SO strong, and hot-headed person because,  yk he's a werewolf." I was like "hot headed? excuse me?" I tried to explain to them that Remus being a werewolf is a metaphor for illnesses like HIV, it's not some superpowery gift.  they didn't believe me, but then they literally looked me in the face and said, "Then why would Sirius like someone like him? He's poor, short, and ugly." I swear I wanted to cry right then and there.

What is this mindset that makes some people think that a person should be, Idk, hot and flawless to deserve to be loved? Yes I don't think Remus is tall and super hot and perfect and isn't it fine? and I am 100% sure he's so beautiful. not like Sirius ofc but he has this "warm, cozy, and soft" sort of beauty. and I don't think he was a coward (ok maybe he was a liitle) but I guess it's easier for us, humans, to take the worst or weakest moment of a character and amplify it until it defines them entirely. and omg I'm so sorry for my rant and my bad english. but once again thank you for your beautiful soul <3 thank you

Hi anon! I, too, am baffled by the recent obsession with Regulus in this fandom. I think Jegulus is fine as a crack ship, but it has become so mainstream that many fans have just gone ahead and canonized it to the point that you'll be vilified for not accepting it as canon. I underestimated how popular the "best friend's brother" trope was, apparently. I also think it appeals to many fans as a Marauders Era version of one of the most popular ships of all time, Drarry.

This new version of Wolfstar is my biggest complaint with today's fandom, too! I get that the Marauders have very limited canon information and therefore we have more creative freedom to flesh them out, but I really believe that it has gone way too far. Sirius and Remus in today's fandom don't bear any resemblance to the characters they're based on. Remus is just a generic alpha werewolf OC and Sirius is his generic himbo femboy love interest OC. They don't even share a physical description with their Canon counterparts, and their personalities and character traits are so far removed that I can't even fathom how we reached this point as a fandom. How can you claim to like these characters if you have to change everything the source material says about them?

You're English is great, by the way! I completely agree that Remus has a cozy-and-warm sort of beauty. He made a point to distance himself from the stigma surrounding Lycanthropy because it was the focal point of his shame and self-loathing. And I just adore Wolfstar's dynamic from this lens, with the intimidatingly beautiful, confident, headstrong Sirius Black, who could have his pick of anyone he wants, choosing this ordinary guy because he's cozy and soft and it's exactly what Sirius wants after surviving the harsh ideals and abuse of House Black.

[harlstiel]

Ships with Stiles that I enjoy | RANKED

1 : Stisaac

Stiles/Isaac

My favorite. 10/10. The DRAMA, but also the shared trauma, they're perfect. Sure it's a BIT toxic but it's a guilty pleasure, what can I say.

2 : Stalia

Stiles/Malia

Only lower on the list BECAUSE Malia should've had SO much more mental development before going into a relationship. But they were cute, 10/10

3 : Stydia

Stiles/Lydia

Only third because of how FUCKING LONG IT TOOK. AND HOW LITTLE WE ENDED UP GETTING. Jeff Davis can go suck a wrinkly dry hairy testicle. Still 10/10

4 : Stira

Stiles/Kira

HEAR ME OUT. They would geek out so much together its NOT even fucking funny. They're both socially awkward nerds that ramble and I live for it. 10 out of fucking 10. Prefer Malira tho...

5 : Sterica

Stiles/Erica

Low-key wanted this to happen for a bit. Maybe not permanently because I always saw the both of them to be more bisexual types but they would've been cute. Also I can't remember where the whole "Batman" "Catwoman" nicknames came from but it is my only life support rn. 9.5/10

6 : Sterek

Stiles/Derek

My favorite blorbo Derek Hale. I didn't get the hype with this ship when I first started watching, but then I kept seeing things in this show that made me wonder, "Jeff, was this intentional?" Bc they're so very gay with each other. Alas, age gaps are an iffy thing for me personally due to my own personal traumas, but I still love them. 9.5/10

7 : Stora

Stiles/Cora

Cute, could've happened, not mad that it didn't, but def a wasted opportunity on Jeff Davis' part. Solid 8/10.

8 : Stanny

Stiles/Danny

This was definitely more of a humor thing but I liked the idea of these two together from the get-go. In my opinion, there was definitely a little crush on Stiles' part and I love that. 8/10

9 : Sciles

Scott/Stiles

Personally, this one is so far down the list because it's difficult for me to see them as more than brothers but it's still a ship I can respect and it's cute. Gets a LITTLE toxic in some areas, for example S5, but that's OKAY. Just some miscommunication between brothers it's FINE I'm fine. But my brain cant stop putting this in the 'incest' folder even tho theyre not related WHATSOEVER. SO. SOLID 7.5/10

(Their parents are my otp tho. Noah and Melissa are perfect together and the best thing I've ever experienced)

Reasons

For not including other ships.

Steo : I am a Thiam shipper through and through. And Theo did things to Stiles that doesn't even make enemies to lovers valid in my opinion. IK he got a redemption arc and he was being manipulated since he was a child but STILL. I love Theo but he's not the one (for Stiles, anyway🤭).

Any ship with him and an adult ; ie, Peter, Chris, Parrish etc. : Do I even have to explain this one? I mean REALLY?

Stiam : They are like Mother and Child to me and I will take that to my GRAVE.

Stackson : Last season-T.W. Movie Jackson MAYBE but early seasons Jackson was a toxic mf who loved NOBODY but himself based on how he treated Lydia.

(Pointed out by a commenter) Stallison : I actually never knew people shipped this and didn't know it was a thing until now. Personally, if they had the time, they could've grown to have a very close familial bond (like siblings) but similar to Scott, that's all I can see them as. It's a very cute ship though, and I like the idea. (Wish I knew about it beforehand tbh 😅)

Pretty sure I covered evertyhing, but if I missed someone, let me know!

#stiles stilinski #stisaac #isaac lahey #stalia #malia tate #malia hale #stydia #lydia martin #stira #kira yukimura #sterica #erica reyes #stora #cora hale #stanny #danny mahealani #sciles #scott mccall #steo #stiam #stackson #sterek #derek hale #teen wolf #teen wolf movie