#i refuse to blink even once i will find my son

[tenshiangle]

I WILL SEARCH EVERY SINGLE FRAME

[rboooks]

Alfred's Boy: Part 2

Bruce felt his blood pressure rise as Damian shoved another pair of swimming trucks into his cart. His youngest insisted that he needed something flattering, as his previous outfit was "functional but not attractive to the youth of today."

Damian had never cared that he wasn't up to the trends, but that was before Danny moved into the manor. Now he had to wait hours for Damian to find a satisfying outfit, knowing darn well its only because Danny mentioned he was interested in taking a dip in the inner pool.

The boy, technically being staff, felt it was essential to ask permission before taking a swim. Bruce had spent years telling Alfred he had free range over the manor, only to always have the man ask before doing anything. He hopes Danny won't develop the same habit.

He wanted the young man to feel at home with them.

His younger children- who honest to God forgot they even had a pool- had all scrambled to go swimming with Danny. Tim had practically thrown himself over the table to change from his WE suit into his swimming wear, Duke use his grappling hook to zoom up the stairs and Steph begged Cass to lend her a bikini.

Damian remained seated, despairing that his old swimming shorts had been bought by Dick the year previous. Dick had gotten him green shorts with little cats and dogs. Damian- who refused to even go near public pools- wore them to the family pool with no desire to purchase new ones since he saw no point in it.

And now he was paying the price for keeping childish wear. Personally, Bruce thought they were adorable and perfect for his fourteen-year-old son, but being two years younger than Danny gave him a terrible disadvantage, and Damian could not afford falling futher behind.

He just sat there, staring longingly at the retreating back of Alfred's assistant after telling him he had nothing to wear. Danny had told them he could join the rest another time before scurrying away to finish his cleaning of the right wing.

What else could Bruce do besides offering to take him to the nearest outlet mall and get him something nicer?

"Damian are you almost-"

"I am ready, father. Make haste to purchase our wears. Daniel must be finishing his duties, and I wish to get back." His son announced, yanking the cart out of Bruce's hand and practically running to the cashiers.

Bruce sighed.

It's not that he minded his son's crush on a boy or that it was Danny. It just felt like he shouldn't be encouraging his children to try and romance someone going through a lot.

Alfred had forbidden anyone from looking into Danny's background, and he had respected the request. There was a lot Bruce and Batman were willing to do but defying a direct order from Alfred was not one of them.

(Honesty, if Alfred ever turned evil, Bruce's contingency plan for him was simple: Die.)

Danny took his assistant butler job very seriously. Often wearing a neat and pressed suit, finishing his work in record time, well mannered and very intelligent but kept a distance from the family. Alfred also had a small wall of professionalism but he would crack a joke and be in their presence like a grandfather.

Danny only spoke when spoken to, tried to refrain from being notice and basically kept the reminder that while he liked them all he was always going to be a employee first and foremost.

Maybe it was due to his parents? Danny probably couldn't relax until he felt safe once more. Not for the first time, Bruce wondered what type of monsters the Fentons had to be to make a boy capable of discovering the Batcave without so much of a blink, flatter.

"Father!" Damian called impatiently, tapping his foot before the nervous-looking teen who what been attempting to ring him up.

The Wayne's made everyone nervous.

"Yes. Yes. Here put It on my card-" Damian snatched it out of his hand before Bruce even took it out completely from his wallet.

Suddenly his phone rings. Seeing that Damian could handle punching in the Pin, he accepted the call, not bothering to check the screen.

All his children have personalized ringtones, so only one person would cause Gun and Ships from the Hamilton musical to blare from his phone.

"Jason-"

"Bruce!" Jason yells in a wheezing voice "Tim almost drowned!"

What.

"Is he alright!?"

"He's fine!" Jason assures, voice breaking to manic cackling. "He's just really embarrassed. He forgot about the bruise on his back, so when he tried to do cannonballs with Danny, he cramped up. Danny had to help him out of the pool and then lectured him about jumping in the deep end because of peer pressure. He thinks Tim can't swim, Bruce!"

Bruce felt a headache building behind his eyes. "Jason-"

"Wait, wait, there's more! Do you know how Steph never wears bikinis because she is uncomfortable? Danny clocked that as soon as she walked in and offered her the old t-shirt he was wearing. Took it off right then and there, and do you know what Steph did!? She walked into a wall! A wall Bruce!"

"Jason-"

"Duke hasn't stopped staring at Danny. I think his brain is in a permanent blue screen. I'm actually thinking he's-"

"Jason!" Bruce cut in which finally seemed to get his second oldest attention. Don't get him wrong, he was thrilled that Jason was spending so much time around the manor but the constant updates on his children tripping over themselves for Danny was not well for his heart. "I think you need to make sure your siblings give Danny some space. The poor chum might not be comfortable-"

"I'm not helping you stop Danny from finding true love, old man"

Bruce rolled his eyes as his son hung up. He can't wait for school to start up again. Danny will be homeschooled by his own request and Alfred's agreement but at least most of his kids will not be around him as often.

His phone started playing Sk8er Boy and he considered not answering. He really did but honestly his son probably needed him.

With a sigh he presses the accept call button "Tim-"

"He thinks I can't swim Bruce! He banned me from the pool!" Tim sobs and Bruce sees Damian perk up, happy Danny had put distance between one of his suitors ans himself.

Was it too late to ask Alfred if he was sure his contact Clockwork had no where else to foster Danny?

Being Batman on the night all his rouges broke out was easier then this.

( Part 1) (part 3)

[shaisuki]

THE EXTENSIONS OF MY DEVOTION

YANDERE! HUSBAND MIKAGE REO X CHUBBY READER

content warnings ─── implied noncon, forced marriage, yandere themes babytrapping, reader wants to have more kids, stockholm syndrome, smut, breeding kink, dubcon, pregnancy, talks of childbirth.

ᝰ synopsis .ᐟ all changed in the blink of an eye and now you're the wife and mother of his children and despite all of what your ceo husband had done to you, you want more children.

the first time you feel him moving inside you, you were absolutely disgusted. horrified for soon to becoming the mother of the baby inside you. created by reo's selfishness and greediness that destroyed your once mundane life.

then he was born. all your worries and fear disappeared with the appearance of your baby. cradled in your arms and his little hand grasping your pinky finger. there were tears of regret streaming down your face of how you could hate this innocent little child without knowing what his father had done to you. wiping down the tears you made a commitment to yourself.

you were going to love this one with all your heart.

the first year with reo being your husband it was hell. how you were only doing paperwork yesterday, now it was filled with days of being told how to act like a proper wife to your ceo husband and being a mother to his heir. maintaining appearances to fit with your status. you're not a commoner anymore, the governess would say to you while being taught of the proper etiquettes.

you didn't enjoy any of it. aside from being taught on how to care for an infant which you insisted despite reo telling you that the nanny can handle it but you refused. you weren't raising this child to be spoiled, stuck up person. you will raise your child like how the way you were raised and your child is the only one who can receive your whole unconditional love.

mikage reiji. your firstborn with your husband. the surname almost bring tears to your eyes. you have it, the surname. appealing it was and leave everyone to be in awe as being the wife and the mother of his child — it was the kind of branding that means he owned you.

reiji was the reason of it. after reo forced himself to you and find out you were carrying his future heir, a wedding soon followed. it was his right, your soon-to-be husband said to you and he won't let his child with you be born to be an illegitimate and your fate was sealed.

even reiji was the cause of it, you lived your days with your son and his presence brought you peace. the only thing reo had done good that you learned to accept.

you enjoyed being a mother to your child and reo was a doting father. praising you for being a good mother to his child and he'll reward you with a kiss that soon turned to be a night of worshipping you.

after that when reiji turned a year old, you were pregnant again. the thought of being with child again scared you but when you look at reiji, you knew it was going to be fine and despite how much you hated reo, a new realization dawned on you. this occured to you many times before when your time was all on taking care of your baby that you enjoyed being a mother and you wished for more.

then reiji was followed by his baby sister being born a year later. a new addition to your family and you were happy. what's dark and cold when you were with reo is now replaced with the neverending joy of being with your children. watch as they outgrow their clothes, learned to call you as their mama. their cute giggles melting the worries in your heart and when the siblings are old enough to sleep in their own rooms, you found the courage to tell reo of your wishes one night.

“reo?” the ceo hums in response when you called his name while he's behind you. his arm draped in your plush stomach, drawing soft circles on it.

“i wish to tell you something.” you shift in your position. turning your body to face him. “what is it, treasure?” his voice soft and mellow. it's the only way he addressed you. “i want to have more children with you.” meeting his gaze and observe how it changes into something of curiosity to one of darkening. smirk blooming in his face.

“that's it, my wife?” he asks. knowing damn sure of it. reo have all the riches in the world and the wealth to give you more what you want and needed. “you want to give reiji and reiko a another sibling, a good choice — treasure.” moving above you to trap you with his body. pinning your arms in both sides as he licks his lips.

some part of you hates him or you got used to it. of him exploiting you and in return you treat it as something normal. no matter how you threatened him or cry in front of him, it doesn't change anything. reo made sure a long time ago that he'll find you even in the deepest pits of hell just to have you again.

it's enough to keep you beside him with no qualms and only received his undying fondness to you. he's obsessed and you're feeding it to him.

“yeah.” you confirm to him and reo leans down. capturing your lips to his and pushing his tongue deep inside your mouth. lowering the straps of your nightgown and tugging it down to reveal the body of his wife that had given him children.

two pregnancies and you're still looking divine. stomach rounder and littered with stretch marks, he can't wait to get you pregnant again. his gorgeous wife that turns anyone green with envy.

“g—going to breed this pussy again.” he groans. his hips moving in a fast pace with the intent of knocking you up again. “you want that, treasure? he moans out, holding your hips tighter. going deeper as possible like the first time he had done it to you. “want me to cum in this pretty pussy of yours and make me a father again? you want that?”

“yes! yes — ahhh! please, reo!” you cry out. digging your nails in his arms and he can feel you tighten. sucking him deep into this warm cunt of yours. it spurs him more to please his wife and giving her what she wants. reo only wants that happiness of yours.

he kisses you once again, your legs locking around his hips to prevent him from pulling out and with a brutal slam of his hips, both of your orgasm came rolling. spurts and spurts of his cum filling your fertile womb and soon it will bless him with a another child and he will fill you up again like a good husband.

there's nothing quite like it when he's all yours and you, round with his baby again.

[janeyseymour]

Won't You Be... My Neighbor?- pt 4

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3.

super quick installment because @schemmentis wants the torture to drag on despite her claiming none of this is her fault

Summary: Joe shows up.

WC: 1.1k

(this gif is exactly what mel wishes she would've done to joe but doesnt)

Your eyes jump open at the woman’s earpiercing scream. And when they open, Joe is standing over top of the two of you.

“What the fuck?!” he screams as he winds up his bat again. Melissa raises her arms in self-defense, but its futile when the metal bat still comes into contact with her body and she yelps out in pain again. She falls to the floor, and before you can get up, the bat is hitting you too. You refuse to show any signs of pain or weakness though.

“You divorce me for fucking around with the babysitter, only for me to find you fucking your lawyer the day our divorce is finalized?!” he slurs out. His bat comes down on her a few more times while you’re still hissing in pain, and you swear you can hear her ribs crack as he delivers the final blow to her body.

Melissa lays there, clutching at her ribs and gasping out for air. And then he’s swinging at you again.

In reality, the two of you should be able to fend him off. Being snuck up on and jolted out of your dreaming state though makes it much harder as you try to blink away the sleep in your eyes while also trying to defend yourself and hissing out in pain from the first strike.

“G-get JJ,” Melissa croaks out, not even bothering to fight the pain at this point as she cries freely.

Almost in an instant, your eyes and Joe’s go wide, and you both race for the bedrooms. You’re faster than him, of course you are. He’s drunk, and you are stone cold sober and running on adrenaline at the mention of the innocent little boy hopefully still sleeping peacefully (although you’re not sure how he could possibly still be sleeping with his mother’s loud cries). Speed doesn’t matter though. Even with you trying to wrestle the bat out of his hands as you enter the hall, he’s able to strike you- once in the side, and once in the knee. At the blow to the knee, you stumble and fall. 

He’s able to get ahead of you, and he violently whips the door to his son’s bedroom open. He snatches the little boy from his bed harshly enough that JJ wakes up with a small cry.

“Shut the fuck up,” the grown man seethes. “Shut the fuck up!”

He stumbles out into the hallway, where you’ve just managed to pick yourself up off the ground. At the sight of that sweet little boy that has wormed his way into your heart, you see red. You never understood those stories that you would hear about adrenaline taking over and being able to do things that shouldn’t be possible, but here you are. There’s a fire in your eyes as you wrestle JJ out of the arms of a man who is easily double your size and cradle him as closely to your chest as you possibly can. You’re able to stumble your way into the bathroom and lock the door before Joe can get to you again.

“Y/N,” JJ cries as he clings to you, absolutely terrified. “Is this a nightmare? Why can’t I wake up?!”

“It’s real life, honey,” you whisper as you lean against the door. “But I have you, and you’re going to be okay, and your father can’t-” There’s a force against the door, and it shakes you where you stand pressed up against the piece of wood. “He can’t get to us,” you say quickly. You glance at the window. You’re on the second floor, and if it were just you, you would fly through it and deal with the injuries later. But with JJ? You don’t know if you can do that. You don’t know which option is safer at this point- flying through a second story window with a four year old cradled to your chest, or facing the wrath of a drunk and belligerent man hellbent on getting his son back.

Before you can decide though, he comes crashing through the door. Apparently his adrenaline is flowing now too in the haste to get to his son. You fight with him tooth and nail to keep that little boy in your arms, but when Joe throws a mean right hook that collides with your jaw, your grip loosens just enough for the man to grab JJ. Unfortunately, the little boy still has his arms clasped tightly around your neck, and when Joe pries him off, you can see the way that his shoulder pops out of its socket. The blood curdling scream that the youngest Schemmenti lets out is forever embedded in your head. The man is able to throw another punch at you, successfully temporarily stopping you from fighting with all your might just enough to get a head start on you. And then, Joe is off.

With the absolute searing pain now very apparent in your leg, you do your best to run after him, but by the time you make your way out the front door, you see his car peeling away with that little boy inside.

Defeated, you hobble your way back into the apartment complex. You wonder how no one on your floor had woken at the commotion. When you get back to Melissa’s her door is wide open, and she’s still laying there on the floor clutching at where Joe had struck her. Despite the pain rippling through your body, you kneel down next to her.

“Please,” she whispers through tears. “Please tell me you got JJ.”

You shake your head. “Joe has him. But I’m going to call 9-1-1, I’m going to tell them he broke and entered, we need an ambulance for you, and that an amber alert needs to go out on JJ.”

“I- I’m going to kill him,” Melissa hisses as she tries to sit up.

You gently push her back down to the floor. “You need to stay down while I make calls.”

It doesn’t take long for you to rattle off the necessary information to the call center, and when you come back, Melissa is still lying there gripping at her side.

“They’re coming,” you whisper as you sit down next to her. “They already have cops combing the area for him. He’s not going to get away with this.”

“He might,” the redhead groans out. “The motherfucker knows his way around.”

“He isn’t getting away with it this time,” you promise her. “And when they catch him, he’s never coming back.”

TAGS, and let me know if you want to be added! : @schemmentis @thesapphictimelady @marvel210 @itisdoctortoyousir @morgana-larkin @thesamesweetie @doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou @marvels--slut @gwennybriggs @megamultifandomtrashposts @lemz378 @http-sam @melissaschemmentisbranzino @imaginesmultifandoms @sexysapphicshopowner @lilfartbox1 @maybe-a-humanbean @imlike-so-gaydude @sapphicxrat @a-queen-and-her-throne @sunsol-22 @notinmyvocab @melanielaufeyson

[kingconia]

DIASOMNIA BOYS WITH OLD-FASHIONED S/O, WHO WRITES AND SENDS THEM LETTERS, INSTEAD OF USING THE PHONE

Sebek Zigvolt.

— He is so confused. Malleus is bad at technics, too, but at least he knows what the fuck phone is;

— Sebek genuinely tries to teach you how to use the phone, but you are refusing to use it, and saying that you prefer writing letters for him;

— Okay, he finds it cute now, because your letters find him in an expected moments, as a big surprise, and he starts waiting for them on the daily basis;

— But he will not write you back. Sorry, it would take too much time, and he is a busy man. But! He keeps all of your letters, and marks down topics from them that he will discuss with you in personal meeting. He is attentive, of course.

•

”Ha,” Jack smirks, leaning closer to Sebek. ”Are you reading love letters again? You are so red, it is embarrassing.”

Sebek is, indeed, flushed. He always is, when he opens your envelopes—you tuck in it his favourite flowers, and write such a beautiful things, that he can't help but feel embarrassed.

’My dear Sebek,

I hope this letters finds you well, and with your undying energy that lightens my day refilled by simple meal, or, perhaps, even a nap. And, please, accept those hyacinths. They are for you, and only. I hope you like them as much as I like you.

Today, I only wished to tell you the story of my...’

”Shut it...” He murmur to his classmate, pressing letter to his chest shyly.

The flowers you sent him would be in his hair for the rest of the day.

And no one would dare comment on that.

Lilia Vanrouge.

— Well, Lilia is more modern despite his age, so he is a little bit surprised by your strange habits. Just as Sebek, asks you if he needs to teach you how use your phone, but when you refuse, he gets over it easily;

— Your letters offer him the strangest nostalgia of the past, and he can't say if likes them, or if they are bringing up not his most pleasant memories;

— Lilia, I think, would rarely write you back. Yet, he appreciates how much you think of him. He, too, would rather send you an invitation for the little lunch date;

— Lilia doesn't keep all of your letters, but the most important ones are always tucked in his room, in the very safe place.

•

”Ah,” Lilia blinks, surprised as he notices only now, that there is letter in the pocket of his coat. ”How do you...”

He sighs.

The main mystery, of course, is how you continue to sneak on him, leaving all these letters without Lilia, actually noticing it? He has an extra hearing and sight not for nothing! What is the secret?

”Oh, dear Y/n. Here you are.”

’My ethereal snowdrop,

how had you been? Tell me, if there is something bothering you? Your students, your son, headmaster Crowley? I hope it is not, but if anything touches your peace—tell me. I will try to take care of it in the best traditions.

But until now, I am here only to speak of my own troubles as I hope you want to listen... This morning, though, started uneventfully...’

Lilia stops in the middle of the corridor, and starts reading it with the greatest attention immediately.

He already plans to find you right after finishing reading that, and comfort you in his arms after the bad day you clearly had.

Silver Vanrouge.

— He is flattered by the fact that you decide to spend your time on writing to him all these letters, and he doesn't ask you to use phone: he accepts this strangeness easily;

— Whenever he has a short nap, he wakes up with a new letter on his lap, and it is the best part of his day, to be quite honest. He also kinda puts all of your letters on the walls of his room...

— Once he decides that he wants to return your sentiment as well, and so, he asks Lilia to teach him how to write letters in his very aloof manner as you do;

— He writes not so often, but he tries really hard to do that everyday. And eventually his slightly awkward attempts became better and better.

•

'Good evening, dear and well-respected Y/n!

I genuinely apologise for writing so late this time. If it wasn't for Sebek annoying trying to teach me how to take better care of Malleus, I would finish my duties quicker.

I think, there is nothing interesting for me to tell you about. My days are all the same and your letters the only thing that makes them slightly happier. I doubt you will find it that entertaining.

So, please, tell me about yours, instead.

With love, Silver.’

Malleus Draconia.

— Finally! Finally someone as old and inexperienced in technics as him!

— Jokes aside, but Malleus is really grateful for having another old soul around. He instantly agrees on constant letters exchange with you, and he also considers it to be courting;

— You write each other so often and so much, pouring your souls in these letters, obsessively opening up each other about everything and everyone, that others are almost worried;

— Just let these poor victorian kids to flirt in their own way!

•

’...My agonising salvation, Y/n,

your letter arrived just now, and reading your poems, made my heart flatter with so much easiness as if it was the butterfly wings, clapping against the air. I had never dreamed of the day, when I would be blessed by such a treatment, and yet...’

’Oh, the malady to all of my sufferings, Malleus,

though I sent you a letter in a while, as I am still waiting for yours to return to me, I can't help but send another one, just right after, since my soul cannot bear this happiness all alone...’

”All of these... Sounds unhealthy,” Sebek mutters, confused, as the three of them stare at the desk of Malleus that is now filled completely by many letters; some of them are yours, and others are drafts of his, rewritten and scrapped down. ”Should we do something?”

”Come on,” Silver groans. ”They are just in love.”

”How can you he so easygoing when it is Malleus-sama that—”

”I think,” Lilia interrupts another possible argument between these two, ”we should just leave them alone. They are happy as they are.”

And with that, they close the doors behind them slowly.

They shouldn't had seen these letters anyway...

[justatypicalwizard]

Weave your own web, my prince

BNHA royal au x reader ❥⋰ Another marital season bears down Katsuki's shoulders. His mother tortures him with a new guard - one that will follow each and every step the prince takes. Soon Katsuki decides, it's time to act on his responsibilities and decides his target will be the guard. Tons of royals flush the corridors of the Bakugo castle, among others Shoto - the Todoroki prince on the make. What will come out of their rivalry? Will Katsuki be able to break out of his mothers web of plans and schemes? Will he be able to claim what he desires or will it run through his fingers? ❥⋰ Reader is referred to as Cat. Word count: 16k ❥⋰ I just want to say I had so much fun writing this piece. I really tried to elevate my language and make something fun. I hope you find it entertaining!

Katsuki hated Spring with all of his heart. He loved the new life peeking out of every corner, he loved the birds that came from far lands with new stories to croak about, he loved the fresh air saturated with the scent of juicy grass and wildflowers. Katsuki hated Spring because Spring meant courting season, the awful marital hunt.

The young, and only, son of queen Mitsuki and king Masaru attained a position on the grand bachelor and maiden list as soon as his 15th Spring approached and has been on it since. Despite the weight of the crown bearing hard on the prince’s temples he refused to find a wife each and every year. The queen was on the verge of forcing someone on him. On March nights Mitsuki cursed at her son’s undeniable masculinity. It would be easier if he was a girl.

The martial aspect of Spring pricked at his side like a thorn but there were other nuisances. It was a time when not only did you have to stand up to your enemies, you also had to let them into your home. Trains of carriages and caravans climb up the steep hill road leading into the Bakugo lands. The castle swole with lace, silk, gossip and scheme. It was full of two-faced ministers, greedy lords, gasping matrons and pale princesses.

Katsuki wondered whether he preferred to travel abroad for courting or let that multitude inside his own stone and gem walls. At least the army was here, some units preparing as if for war. Units like his mothers personal guards.

Day and night, Summer or Winter these soldiers run at top speed, and at top secrecy. They were always in the corner, lingering to the queen like a shadow, flat and easy to miss. Katsuki was supposed to build his own unit such as this, pull it together, brick by brick from desperate, lonely and crazy, ones that would sacrifice their life in the name of loyalty and gratitude. Ones that would sparkle at his side like gems in his crown. Ones that would slice throats without even a blink at his single word. That was, of course, a massive exaggeration but the queen made sure to give him this lecture every time a new rumour could be heard about the assassin known as Denki flirting with a cook or when the archiver and historian girl Mina messed up a few very important dates in the chronicle of Katsuki’s life. At least Kirishima was reliable.

Katsuki stomped towards his mother’s writing room in her open-for-guests chambers. The guests took off and it was once more high time to try to persuade him. Names and oil paintings were hung up in the representative corridors leading to the ballroom. Small noses, corseted waists and absent eyes that gazed up into the sky peeking out through the grand windows. All of these seasons maidens presented like cattle on a Sunday village market. Soon bachelors would accompany the lonely girls on the other side of the hallway.

The angry boy slowed down, his boots finally giving the echo of the corridor a break. Slick black hair pulled into a tight ponytail. Diamonds scattering the crown of her head, packed onto a delicate silver web, signalling her worth but also painfully reminding of the lack of a real queens’ crown. At least it matched her eyes.

Yaoyorozu was one of the candidates for Katsuki. Despite her mathematical calmness and chin raised to touch the sky, she fumed every time she saw him. The Yaoyorozu family lacked a crow but swam in wealth. Their banks held and operated on the riches of the neighbourhood kingdom making them important players on the royal courts.

Lord Yaoyorozu tried his luck with the family of his own king but with poor results. Many princes adorned the king’s right hand but none of them would marry with someone of a lower status. At least that’s what they officially said. Next on the list was Katsuki who also refused to take Momo Yaoyorozu. The girl was beautiful, smart and wealthy, but it all meant nothing as her father’s ambitions were too high for her crystal-heel-clad feet.

Another portrait that stung Katsuki’s eyes was yet to be hung. He huffed, a short pathetic laugh. What an irony that the cheeky round face that poked through the messily scattered cloth lay beneath Momo. Someone should quickly gather this portrait or else whatever commoner left this will be punished for offence to a highborn.

Uraraka, a princess well known for Katsuki, smiled cheekily from the frame. Another candidate, this time a real princess. Such a pity her royal family had less funds than the Yaoyorozu. A pity for her, a blessing for Katsuki. She was being held as an option courtesy of friendship rather than position.

Leaving the lifeless faces Katsuki wondered which girl had it worse, which was scattered around more. The wealthy but unprivileged lady or the poor but accepted princess. One thing he knew, he would pick none of them.

Three knocks were enough to be welcomed by his mother. She seemed to be alone in the room. Bookshelves that once were mighty oaks bent under the weight of thousands of books, chronicles and registers. Rugs secured the stone floor giving the room a warmer touch, just as Mitsuki liked. Despite a rather early hour candle flames glistered and twitched around the desk, trapped in glass lanterns. Little daylight was allowed through the narrow windows, always leaving the room in a state of half-shadow.

Katsuki knew that in these elaborately planned out shadows figures lingered in defence of his mother. The prince felt the presence right now but he knew better than to comment on it. Those ears will hear everything but speak of nothing.

“So glad you made it that quick.” The queen turned slightly in her rich chair to face him. The old and well-used wood cracked slightly, though the quiet of the room made it seem like thunder.

“Stop tip-toeing around it and tell me what you have to, old hag.” Katsuki knew what this conversation would be about, he guessed what the bulky volumes in front of his mother were - genealogical trees of high families. It was the same every year.

“Fine. I command you to pick a wife this season. You know the old candidates but there are a few new ones worth taking a look at.” She proceeded to open the book but her son’s harsh voice left her only grazing the cover.

“You can command your little chess pieces of soldiers around, not me. I will not take any of these fake, trained pushovers.” His resistance was hardy.

“You know your responsibilities as a male, and only, heir to the throne. It gets more dangerous each year.” Always the same. Katsuki had enough of it.

“You and dad don’t look like you’re gonna drop dead any moment, which is a pity.” He snarled at his mother like a kid throwing a tantrum - which in fact he was. “I will secure the family line just-” The fierceness of his voice lost its momentum. “Just when I find the right person.”

Did he just admit to his mother that he believed in love? Did he believe in love? He thought about it every Spring, what was it that he was looking for. The princesses were obviously not a match for him because they were all a lifeless mass of similar faces, similar gowns, similar smiles. They were taught to be interested in you, to abide by every need and want, to not ask questions but at the same time to demand the best, tastiest, wealthiest and most luxurious. Katsuki did not wish to play this game. Was he really looking for someone who will make his heart skip a beat? Might as well try.

“Anything else?” He walked around the room grabbing objects and examining them, anything to look away from the disappointed mother in the centre. She sighed.

“Yes. Because of the situation at Todoroki’s I decided to have two of my personal guards watching over you. They have a schedule and will follow your steps for the next months, as long as this farce will take.” Now this, this was new.

Mother was letting two of her dogs off leash. Both excited and annoyed, Katsuki gave her a questioning look. He moved towards her desk, and pushing his abdomen hard into the edge he looked down on his mother. Or so he thought.

“Don’t try to order them around, they already know what to do and they will not abide by a single need of yours.” Though sitting lower she was still looming over him, her shadow longer than his, extended by two additional people.

Finally, he got why she decided such a thing. It was not to keep him safe, it was to make him miserable, push him to his limit and make him succumb to her wants. Who knows what these people will do or how much they will foist themselves on him. Katsuki felt a hand creep up on his throat and ball into a vice grip, suffocating him. He also knew that he will peel those fingers off one by one.

“Meet your daytime guard. Then leave.” Mitsuki gestured to a woman who grew out of the shadow behind her chair.

Katsuki looked the intruder in the eye and let out a short huff, turning on his heel and leaving the writing room in a sour mood.

A few mornings and evenings later Katsuki figured out a bit more about the strange duo following him around. The woman was there during the day while the bulky man with dark wavy hair and a scar on his face guarded his person at nightime. They changed in the evening and morning without much talk.

Those past days the young prince tried to ignore the presence but it became overwhelming, always hearing additional steps behind you. This and the preparation for hosting the ass clapping festival as Katsuki liked to title it.

The castle changed into a busy anthill with servants-ants running back and forth, carrying anything from bouquets to wooden tables all around the place. The prince was needed here and there for very important business such as fitting fancy costumes, giving his opinion on a flower arrangement or signing fifty greeting letters that will be left on the nightstands of the guests’ beds. In simple words, Katsuki had enough.

“Your highness, you are needed in the fitting room.” Shall the white, laced blouses be damned.

Maids jumped around his partially undressed form as they tried to baste a rich red robe around his torso. The loose scraps of material and pins scratched at his skin leaving red marks and giving Katsuki a scowl. The air in the room was stiff and seemed to lack oxygen. The blonde was getting dizzy with all the heavy perfume and powder dancing around in the light of the candles.

“Give me more pins, I need to tighten it here.” One of the seamstresses squeaked.

“Take them yourself, I can’t move right now.” The other one argued

His head slumped down and a deep sigh escaped his lips. How much longer will this take?

“Excuse me. The prince is needed for his evening duties.” A new voice made an interruption.

“We were promised the price will be available today. This fitting was due for a few days.” One of the working women bickered while resting hands on her hips.

“Well, your time has passed.”

The half finished robe was pulled down Katsuki’s arms and shoved into a terrified maid's hands. The prince felt a small hand on the back of his arm. The fingers were so tiny, yet they quickly clasped down in a vice grip, pulling him out of the stuffy fitting room and out into the cold corridor.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do now?” He did not even mind who forced him outside. The preparations, the long days of doing absolute shit, the constant feeling of being watched even in his sleep, Katsuki was too fed up to care.

“Nothing. Or maybe a walk outside would be refreshing if you ask me.”

The prince finally looked up at his companion. It was no one other than the guard woman following him around. She was propped up the corridor wall, arms crossed on her chest, looking out of the window on the ground below.

“Is there something wrong, your highness? Do you wish to go back to the fitting room? You looked rather displeased there and the seamstresses did take their time, didn’t they?” The girl asked with a raised brow.

“Did you really just pull me out of there and lie to them?”

“Are you unhappy with that?”

“Not even a bit. Let’s go outside.”

The evening breeze was refreshing, like a cold shower after a good workout. Katsuki and the guard strolled the park outside of the castle. It was a maze of high hedges, fancy bushes and ponds. The long path led to the grand lake far at the back. The further they got from the castle, the easier it was to mistake the small lights in the windows with stars in the sky. It was peaceful here, sleepy.

“If you wish to know, the name is Cat, my prince.” The guard, Cat, opened her mouth without warning, breaking the melodic tune of night critters.

“Cat is your real name?” He questioned with a brow raised over a scowl. His companion only laughed softly, speaking up no more. Of course it isn’t her name. Of course he would never learn it.

Moonlight shone down on the rich overseas rug giving the warm colours a cold tune. Gold thread twisted and turned forming seemingly endless patterns. Katsuki also twisted in his fur bed sheets, unable to fall asleep. Sweat clung to his overheated body like a second skin. He has to ask for summer sheets, thin like his patience with the restless night.

Pouring himself a goblet of lukewarm water he cursed, exhaustion weighing his shoulders down. Nonetheless, he slipped a soft cotton shirt over his head, pulled on the trousers he left forgotten in the corner and took off in search of some peace in the sleeping castle. The nightguard stalking his every step.

Not finding any relief in his own chambers, Katsuki turned his steps towards his mother’s private rooms and squares. The crushing difference between what was Katsuki’s and what Mitsuki owned was a demonstration of power. Everywhere she could, the queen reminded her son that he was her property. Everywhere he was able to, Katsuki pushed back.

Right now his strategy for enraging the woman was strolling through her chambers at times he shouldn’t. He should be asleep, redying himself for a day packed to the brim with responsibilities. Instead, he opted for passing the scarce guards in silence, looking for a place that would put his nerves at ease.

Far off in the quiet wing of the castle he fished out a familiar figure.

“The fuck you doing there, sneaking around?” He calls out, his voice too loud, cutting through the quiet night like thunder.

There’s a shuffle and Cat turns around to face him fully just as Katsuki enters the square. The smell of flowers is heavy in the air, the queen’s private fruit garden oversaturated with the sweetness of spring life. Katsuki thinks, just for a second, that there’s a glimmer of panic in the guards eye, but her usual polite-jaded expression overtakes her face instantly.

“I am enjoying free time, my prince.” She bows slightly upon his arrival.

“Free time.” The blonde weighs the word on his tongue like a caramel drop. “Sounds exotic.”

“Is there anything you need, my prince?” No response, just blind civility. Noone in this castle, in this world, talked with Katsuki. They obeyed, listened and answered by not one person ever held a conversation with him. Maybe not counting the deliberately selected group of idiots that he called his party. But they are gone now, always seemingly busy during spring. The queen just wanted them away from him, so as not to give him any ideas. Friends were forbidden for a prince.

I need you to shut the fuck up and stop rubbing your free-will into my face. He wanted to shout but the memory of the fitting room, how she freed him of the constricting hands of seamstresses brought Katsuki to a halt. She had more freedom than him, she could do as she pleased when her duty hours were off. Maybe he could use it.

“I need you to speak to me as equals.” He stated, taking a step closer, entering the moonlight square.

“I don’t think this is a good idea, my prince.”

“I don’t want you to suddenly call me by my name, I just want - just talk to me for fuck’s sake.” This is embarrassing. Katsuki cursed the moon’s silver dick for shining so finely today. The pink tinting his cheeks must have been in plain sight. Something shifted in Cat’s expression, relaxation passed over her features, mingling with the usual disinterest.

“Fine.” Her steps were silent as she proceeded to a bench carved out in marble. “I’m listening then.”

“I promise this will stay between us.” The prince dropped down bluntly next to her, swinging his arm over the cool backrest of the uncomfortable bench, his other playing with the loose strings of his cotton shirt, untied, letting his chest breathe fresh night air.

“There is no such thing as a promise here, on court.”

His head whipped her way only to be met with a small smirk. So the woman could speak her mind when she wanted to.

A rich, plump flower sat next to Cat’s head. More of them scattered around the bush leaning on the marble. The one that seemed to nearly graze her cheek was big and flashy, oozing with juices that threatened to spill if you touched it ever so slightly. Katsuki found it repulsive, his mind suddenly drifting off to the thought of wetness.

He looked back, straight ahead to free himself from the shameless flower. His mother tortured him with bees and flower analogies, how he would have to find his flower someday to bear a fruit. It was one of these bushes she made him observe to understand his duty.

Katsuki shook off the nasty feeling.

“So, what do you usually do in your free time?”

“I sleep.”

From the corner of his eye the blonde followed Cat’s movement. She was interested in the flower, poking at it only to get her fingers sticky. Her displeased expression amused him.

“You’re not sleeping now.”

“That’s true.” She stood up and wandered the little maze of flowerbeds and dwarfed trees to find the fountain in the centre. Katsuki following her steps.

A figure appeared in the shadow, leaning on a pillar, watching his every move. The beast of a man, his night time guard, too loud for his own good. A string of curses left Katsuki’s lips. He wasn’t allowed any privacy.

“Cat.” She focused on him, shaking her palm, droplets of water flying in the air. “Switch with the other guy for the night. I want you to guard me.”

It took her a few blinks to think through his order. “And what would I have from it? I would have to be up all night.”

“The next day off. He will take your shift.” The blonde shrugged, as if it was nothing, a mere proposition of business partners too wealthy to mind a single thing. “Besides, if you really care about your rest you would be sleeping right now.” A chuckle left Cat’s lips and Katsuki felt like smiling himself. He did not succumb to the temptation.

“Well, I could use a day off. Have business to take care of.” She came closer and the prince once again thought about the flower. “Did you hear Hound? What do you think about it?”

Hound, the man with messy hair and a messy beard, messy uniform and a crystal clear, sharp look to his eyes stepped onto the square. To Katsuki, he seemed to utterly despise his position, impatience and anger dripping from his face.

“Fine by me.”

“Goodnight then.” Hound huffed at the politeness, turning his back to Katsuki after a short and forced bow, disappearing into the darkness.

“Don’t mind him, my prince, he doesn’t like anyone beside the queen.” Despite Hound’s posture the queen was the real beast here, making a person so blindly loyal.

At once Katsuki felt at ease, alone. He looked up into the sky speckled with stars so very prominent in the moon’s silvery hue. His body felt dry, the sweat of his restless tossing evaporated into the quiet night. He felt fresh and lulled, as if he could fall asleep on the uncomfortable marble bench, his guard sitting on the other side, gazing at the obnoxious flower. He would feel like a still life that hung in the dining room, unmoving and eternal. His life would be still for once, peaceful and silent.

All of it a dream that would never come true.

“What business do you have for tomorrow?” He asked as he sat on the flat surface of the fountain. Every time the light breeze flew by it scooped loose droplets from the fountain, lifting them into the air, letting them dance in the moonlight. It was one of Katsuki’s favourite places to sit as a child, the drops of water hitting his back on hot summer days.

“If I can speak to you as equal for the time being then my business is none of yours, my prince.” Harsh, he thought. He didn’t mind.

“Keep your secrets then.” He scoffed, letting one of his hands dip into the water. It was cool and for a second Katsuki craved nothing more but to tear off his clothes and sink, letting his ears fill up, muffling the sounds of the unbearable world around him. But instead he said. “Just wait until you ask me for something.”

“I would never.” Annoyance forced a scrunch on the bridge of his nose, his pretty face going all ugly. Why didn’t she want to lean on him? He was her ruler. “I would never put more burden on your shoulders, my prince.”

My prince, he was hers but she was not his. She didn’t abide by his needs because she was told to refuse. She was a soldier, a sword in his mothers long-reaching hands that would never be held by him. Her presence reminded Katsuki that he is watched, controlled. Her sharp edge was just underneath his neck, forcing him to hold his chin high, like a prince, and to always look forward, like a future king.

“Why do you have more freedom than I do, huh?” The ugliness never left his face.

“Because I'm nobody.”

“You don’t seem sad about being nobody.”

“Because I’m not.”

Anger bubbled in Katsuki’s veins, promising a night robbed of sleep, one spent twirling in his sheets, gritting his teeth together. Why was this lowborn, this nobody so very free. Why was a capitan, a special guard whose whole existence was dedicated to one painfully narrow task so full of life, so nonchalant. Why did she get to take deep breaths while he was bound to huffs and silent screams. She would never be genuine with him, she did not hold the conversation, she did not answer the questions. She did not talk to him like he wanted, needed. This was a mistake, no longer did he care if it was Hound or Cat at his door tonight. He returned to square one. 

Without another word, Katsuki stood up and left for his chambers. This time the steps following him were silent. The exotic flower leaked its juice onto the marble bench, the sweet stickiness running down to pool at the stone path. It cried silently.

Salty water kissed the shore, although it was running away. The sea wanted to override from the adorned tents and sparkish servants littering the beach. Katsuki’s brows were arched in a nasty frown as he gazed into the endless green and blue and foam, sympathising with it. He would also rather be somewhere else.

While in the castle, the whole party seemed quite peaceful, reserved, safe for a few shallow friendships that were now being brought back to life. The closer they got to the shore, the louder the multitude got. Further away from hawk-like eyes of chaperones and scrutinising queens, the youthful spirit flourished.

Looking to the right Katsuki fished out Ochaco’s round face. She was seemingly discussing some matter with a well known klutz. Oh, how Katsuki despised Midoriya. As much as Ochaco’s dusty wardrobe reminded of her rather pitiful standing in regards to wealth, Midoriya was the embodiment of her kingdom’s woes. The greenish boy was a historian, respected astronomer, mathematician was he also? Katsuki was not interested in what he was seemingly good at. His wandering eyes, never bold enough to look anyone in the face, shaking hands that drop anything they hold, stuttering voice that can’t produce one legible sentence. All that Midoriya was Katsuki hated. If not for the fact that Ochaco’s outright crush on her kingdom’s scholar kept her far from him, maybe he would even mock them.

“If you consider princess Ochaco a valuable cover for your marital affairs, my prince, I’d suggest you tell her not to touch her dear servant’s hand that often.” Capitan cat did not budge a muscle, gazing straight into the sea.

“Half of these people already know. They don’t mind ‘cause she’s not a real player anyway.” Katsuki answered, also keeping his gaze steady. He felt as if they were two predators, wild cats still in tall grass, awaiting prey on the horizon.

At the back of the tent Yaoyorozu burned holes in the back of Katsuki’s head. She sat straight like a stick. No need to hold that head up so high, no one's gonna put a crown on it either way. After a few nasty fights Katsuki knew better than to start with the queen-wannabe. It was enough that he called her princess in front of everyone.

To Momo’s right, drinking the same tea from a finely painted porcelain, sat Jiro. Katsuki pitied the dark haired girl. If not for being Momo’s personal maid, she would be a nice companion. Unfortunately, she had to listen to her lady’s venomous whispering, while also sending Katsuki glances, hers apologetic.

“The Yaoyorozu ladies must have received your letter, my prince.” Cat stated disinterested.

“Glad to hear that.” Katsuki made sure to welcome Momo with a letter clarifying that she is not on his personal list of candidates. This way he saved both of them unnecessary troubles.

Wind blew salt from over the sea, slapping the blonde’s pale cheeks. A gasp and commotion could be heard at the back of the party. A maid of honour slipped on a lace and fell face-flat onto the sand. Despite no harm caused she needed fanning, a chair and at least three people ensuring her safety.

At that moment Katsuki agreed with his mother. This didn’t happen a lot but as he looked his companion up and down he did admit, through gritted teeth, that his mother at least had taste. Cat was dressed in black. Her boots reached her lower thigh, she must have at least a few knives up there. Simple trousers with horse ride edging in the inside on her legs. A jacket, not too official, nothing that would catch unwanted attention. Under the fine, black material a white sheer blouse peaked out.

Katsuki caught her gaze, she was looking at him from the corner of her vigilant eye.

“Is everything alright, my prince.” Her stance was fine, elegant even, with knees together, head high and hands behind a straight back. She did not look like she sported a stick in her butt like Momo, but rather, like she was born to look down on others, despite being shorter than him.

Suddenly, Katsuki wanted to see her in that white blouse. The delicate material would surely dance in the breeze, as if someone draped bed sheets over a statue. Would she look less sharp without the black jacket widening her shoulders.

“Aren’t you hot in that?” It was indeed a hot, spring day.

“I am.” Cat answered with a lazy blink.

“Then take it off, the jacket.”

And she did, and Katsuki, for a moment, felt as excited, as if she was stripping naked in front of him. He was wrong and right. The material was indeed soft and loose around her, dancing in the light breeze, catching salt to scrub out later. Yet, she did not look even a slight bit softer. Her strange pupils were still in the corner of her eyes.

“Thank you, my prince, this does feel better.”

In comparison to all of the clownish servants and maids behind her back, Cat looked like an empress inspecting the sea as if it washed the shore only for her.

“Oh, Captain!” Giggles erupted behind Katsuki and the corner of his red eyes caught an intruder.

In between colourful dresses another gem in the Todoroki’s crown entertained the maids with cheap tricks. Their restless feet tiptoed to see him better. They couldn’t decide whether to look at his handsome face or glamorous crimson wings. The hybrid, the mutant, the eyes and ears of Todoroki, Capitan Hawks. Katsuki wondered how many of those drooling maids with hungry eyes knew what the man really did for a living. Behind the adorned misfit a shadow of a man, a certain Shinso.

“I’ve never seen this… maid with you before.” If not for the proximity of the man, his voice would die out in the salty wind. The Todoroki prince grew out of thin air in front of Katsuki.

Of course Shoto wouldn’t bother with a greeting, how could the ethereal prince mind something as mundane. Right now the blonde didn’t know whether he’d rather look at Hawk’s stupid tricks or at Shoto’s stoic face. Neither, if he could choose. Those two rarely came in pairs.

“Cat’s not a maid, she’s a guard.” Although he would rather sit quietly through the fact that for the last weeks he moved around with a babysitter, Katsuki felt that his captain’s rank should be highlighted in front of the Todoroki prince. If he had to move around with a her he’d at least show her off, make it seem as if she was a precious and deadly decoration, a blade fastened to his hip.

“Oh yes, my brother’s emerging a few months ago has everyone alert.” Shoto sighed as if he was talking about an unfavourable score in a knight tournament, not about a serial killer stalking the highbourns. A serial killer who came from his own royal family. “Nothing I can do about it right now.” The half and half prince looked into the sea.

You could evaporate from the world and that would surely make that psycho of a brother happy. Katsuki thought but couldn’t really say anything, shouldn’t. Talking about the missing brother in broad daylight was taboo. Cat also seemed to know that.

“Beautiful day for some recreation on the beach, your highness.” Her strange pupils, now more round and relaxed, locked on Shoto. “Are you feeling well, is there anything you would fancy?” Suddenly, Katsuki felt as if Cat was a bit too hospitable.

“Hm, I do maybe feel a little bit bored.” If that was true, Shoto’s plain face hid all of his emotions.

“Is there anything we can do to change that, your highness?” We? Of course, Katsuki should be the one asking that and walking around entertaining the guests. “Maybe a horse ride?” The stoic prince perked up for a moment, nodding his head lightly. “Very well, I will send for steed.”

Soon three sizable horses were brought over, stablemen with bowed heads passing the reins into royal hands. Before they took off Shoto gestured for his captain to come over. Nestled in the saddle, he spoke in a disinterested tone. “We’re going off for a ride, I will be in the Bakugo captain’s care.”

“Do you wish for me to fly over you, your highness?” Katsuki swore he heard a few gasps upon the word fly. It was not an everyday view to see the captain use his wings for something else than showing off. Katsuki was certain the blonde mutant was a creature of the night.

“No need Hawks.” Without another word Shoto dug the heels of his boots into the horse’s side.

It wasn’t long before Katsuki felt left out. He rode slowly behind his two companions, comparing their stances and words. They both seemed rather stiff. Cat’s hips swayed with the horse’s movement, similar to his, but her shoulders were tense, hands gripping the rein with a strange focus to it. Shoto looked like he mounted a horse for the first time. Sure, he kept in the saddle but his body lacked the natural movement. Katsuki was sure his ass would hurt in the evening.

Despite their weird riding, the two managed to uphold a shallow conversation. The blonde deemed the words that left their mouth absolute rubbish, but at the same time he couldn’t find a moment to butt in. Cat and Shoto created an awkward but sturdy combination.

“I find it a day too beautiful to talk about my work.” Cat’s voice was soft, as if she was talking to a child.

“You simply can’t talk about it.” Shoto learned no new boundaries since they saw each other last time, still speaking whatever came to his mind.

“I’m content you understand, your highness.” There was no sense for Katsuki to feel threatened by Shoto’s shallow discovery. Everyone on the court had their secrets and no person yielding a sword was without sins. Every guard, especially the one designated to a prince, was there for a reason no ears should ever catch. The same went for Hawks, who was left far behind in the avalanche of satin and lace, Katsuki knew the man did some shady business but what kind exactly, no clue.

“But the day indeed is beautiful.” Shoto was a poor rider and the fact was painfully visible. The Todoroki prince wasn’t looking ahead of him and if not for the slow pace of their ride, he would surely divert off the route. His eyes were locked on Cat who guided the small group.

Katsuki wanted her to put on the coat once again and shield her chest chiselled in stone. The white blouse, swept by the wind, seemed too vague, to see-through for her. Shoto was looking at his mighty guard and she presented herself in a blouse suitable for a lady in distress, who wandered off too far in her nightgown. Cat’s high-waisted trousers hugged her form accentuating the movement of her hips and Shoto was looking.

“Yes, the weather is warm, very warm in fact.” The prince breathed out and let the rein loose. His horse started to turn the moment it felt a lack of a humans’ hand but Cat was quick to bend down and put it in its track.

“Your highness, you shouldn’t let it loose. The Bakugo horses are known for being feisty.” She scolded him softly.

“Oh, sorry, I just got a bit hot.” Shoto answered, no emotions lacing his tone, as he shrugged off his rich coat. How can he feel at ease after just being scolded by a guard. He tucked the garment around his saddle and kept on with his poor ride, taking back the rein from Cat. Now, both of them were only in white, cotton blouses and Katsuki felt it was too intimate for his liking. Kicking his horse, he jammed between the two.

“I was fucking bored back at the picnic but now it’s even worse.” The blonde brute eyed Shoto who looked back at him with a slightly shocked expression. The fuck you staring at.

“What would make you feel better, my prince?” Cat still looked ahead of herself, disregarding the disruption to her conversation.

“Some action.” He grunted in response. “Like a race.”

Oh, how his blood started to rush in his veins at the thought of challenging his guard. What if he could make her sweat and gasp? Would she fight for her breath, biting her lips while trying to win? Was she even competitive?

“To the southern beach gate.” Katsuki grinned, snaring her into a battle. He also wished to get rid of Shoto, leaving him behind in his poor attempts to catch up.

“Okay.” Cat answered, looking at him from the corner of her eye, unfazed.

Digging his heels hard into the horse’s sides the blonde rushed forward, forcing a canter. He lay low, nearly hugging the massive neck of his steed, gripping the rein hard enough to leave marks on his palms. The horse cut through the sweeping shore line, water splashing from under its hooves. Without looking behind, Katsuki pulled the rein, forcing the animal to turn, guiding it towards a more grassy ground. As soon as his steed felt soil instead of sand it rushed forward with confidence, making Katsuki’s golden hair dishelve in the wind.

The prince reached the gate in master time. He raced the beach since he was six or seven. Gasping, he turned the horse around, combing his now unkempt hair back with his hand. Neither Cat nor Shoto showed up from behind the tall cliffs that hugged the beach from one side. Katsuki relaxed in the saddle, unclipping his own coat and taking it off to feel the breeze hit his softly clothed skin. The prince couldn’t wait to see the look of defeat on Cat’s face.

Soon the two figures turned and came in view, but despite starting with two horses they only came back with one. They neared him and Katsuki felt as if he lost, despite winning the short race. Shoto sat behind his captain, due to the slow pace at the finishing line he wasn’t hugging her tightly, rather his hands sat loosely in her tights. He was flushed tightly against her back, the saddle too small for two people to feel comfortable. As Cat guided the horse close to him, she made it stand side-to-side so that they all could look at each other. Katsuki had a perfect view of how Shoto’s crotch pushed into Cat’s butt, the saddle still too small despite Katsuki’s displeased look.

“Congratulations, my prince, you won.” Cat said without a hint of discomfort.

“Why the fuck are you on one horse? This idiot has his own.” The blonde spoke but his gaze was locked onto where their bodies connected.

“It would be an utmost disrespect of my if I left prince Todoroki alone, my highness, as price Todoroki cannot race.” Katsuki felt a dissonance. With the delicate highborn strapped onto her back, she looked like Todoroki's guard rather than Bakugo’s and such sharing did not fit into his mind. Now, the blonde wished for Hawks who could assist his damned useless prince, to set his Cat free. “The third horse should follow us.” But of course, the damn thing didn’t.

After a while they decided to head back, Cat and Shoto even closer than before. Katsuki didn’t know if he preferred to ride behind them to keep watch over Shoto’s hands or rather in front to save himself the sight of their phantom hugging. As soon as they wandered back to the multitude, which didn’t ignore Shoto’s position, Katsuki jumped off the horse shooting the two a hateful glare. Cat slid off of the horse first and lent a hand to Shoto who gracefully accepted it. They looked like a lady and knight but reversed. The blonde scoffed and threw Cat’s jacket into her hands after grabbing it from her saddle. He draped his coat back over his shoulders and his captain followed, without a word.

“My prince.” Hawks seemed to catch interest in the strange situation. Shoto stood there, between the massive horses in his cotton undershirt only, like a lost child. Of course he forgot his coat as it stayed on the steed that wandered off. “What happened?”

“We raced.” The half and half answered his concerned guard. “Cat offered to take me on her horse to ensure my safety.” He began picking at the hem of his sleeves, as if only now realising his attire.

“Captain.” Hawks bowed his head slightly to Cat in a silent ‘thank you’ which she seemed to ignore. “Did you like it, my prince?”

Shoto looked up slightly. The sky reflected in one of his eyes. “No.” He breathed out after a second of silence.

“Gather yourself, we’re heading inside.” Katsuki scoffed having heard enough of this nonsense. Few heads turned his way, displeased frowns springing on their faces.

He felt immense anger burning in his inside and bubbling up in his veins. The blonde was helpless despite his raging. Nothing he did, no action he undertook today went out as planned. Everywhere he went, the captain’s attitude reminded him that he did not rule over her, every move she made screamed of his mother’s doing. She was perfect in every ounce. Steady, royal and polite. Reserved but at the same time sweet and somehow caring for the ones she had to be, to the tip of her fingers that grazed Shoto’s as he slid off of the horse. Katsuki had enough of this court coded, pompous bullshit. Cat still had plenty of hours of her duty, following his steps wherever he went, entering every room he went into in spite of his curses. So he will head back into the castle, back into his chambers. He will close the door behind them and show her that even though she is under his mothers rule, he will be the one holding her lead. She is stuck with him just as much as he is stuck with her and he will prove to her that there is not one person in this kingdom that doesn’t do as he pleases.

One thing that day went as he planned so far as tiny raindrops fell from the sky bringing the picnic to an end.

“I want you to guard me tonight.”

“As you wish, my prince.”

Katsuki’s attitude was visible in plain sight, his boot clad feet stomping angrily on the paved floor of the castle grounds. A pair of silent steps following his every turn. The rain was hammering down by the time the whole multitude reached safety under a roof and it swept up the dust in corridors, barging in through arched doorways. As he passed down his mother’s fruit garden, Katsuki spotted the obnoxiously rich flowers being tossed around, their soft and fleshy petals torn off clean, revealing a juicy weeping core.

Serves them right, die. He thought as a chill crept up his spine. The flowers and bees will haunt him till the end of his days.

Laundry girls and guards jumped off of his route, as the angry prince stormed through corridors. Just a second longer, a few passageways and he will be safe and sound in his chambers, by the fireplace devouring on its warmth. And then… then what?

“Stop right there, brat.” A voice, harsh like the upcoming thunder, made him halt. Not her, not at this moment! “In, now.” She looked down on him, a frown passing through her features, a hand rich in golden rings holding the door open for him. “Alone.” She spat, looking at the guard behind his back.

With a heart full of hate and stomach bursting with anger Katsuki entered one of the endless rooms of the queen’s. Half-shadow seemed to stick to her butt, the places she spent her time in never lit properly. Was it her preference, safety precautions, or was it simply her ruthlessness oozing out, never letting her taste brightness.

Rulers pay high prices for their power. She used to say, Katsuki barely old enough to reach her knee, as he gripped the silky fabric of her dress, the two of them strolling through parks.

Did it backlash, mother? All the years you spent moulding me in the shape you wanted hitting you back with twice the strength. Katsuki will never be the same as her, he will not let her rule over this kingdom, through his hands, after she closes her eyes for the last time.

“What is it this time, you old hag?” The prince didn’t even bother stepping inside the room, opting for standing in the doorway, his back pressing into the oak.

“I’ve heard you’re overusing one of the guards.” So she took an interest in his little nightly escapades with Cat. Look how caring she could be when it came to her own pawns, merely the second night and she already went into action. “I don’t care how many kitchen girls, maids of honour of even stable boys you fuck, but listen to me carefully here.” The queen’s accusation finger darted his way. “Don’t you dare touch that guard, she has her own duties to fulfil.”

A few painfully long seconds passed by as Katsuki mulled over her words. He had no such intentions in the first place. Sure, a foggy image of putting the stubborn and nonchalant capitan in her place played on repeat in his brain, but he never even thought it through. There was no plan, no certainty in his actions, just plain and primal instincts telling him to assess his superiority. God, did her lessons get to me finally?

And then it clicked. What better place for the one who held her chin so high, the one who shone like a finely polished blade in his mother’s secret box of knives, the one that treated him with so little respect, what better place than under him? Your own games will eat you up, mother. He thought, as a grin crept up his poorly lit face. Once again he reached for the scarce reserves of self-discipline and fought off the smile.

“If you’re really interested in my bedding so much then remember this: I’m not a whore.” He spat, turning to grab the handle, nearly shaking with excitement.

“She’s to be conferred a title of nobility. Don’t you dare destroy it!” But he was no longer listening, the heavy doors swinging open to reveal the disinterested capitan.

Mitsuki was left in silence and darkness, free to contemplate and place the conversation deep within her web. He may not listen, that idiot, but she surely will. Out of all, this outcome was one she didn’t think about earlier, but all is not lost. An easy way out of this mess popped up in her head and let her back rest deep within the cushions of her seating. If he does something stupid, she strikes. If he reflects on his actions and takes the right path, she may see it as a small parenting victory. Plans inside plan, Katsuki. You still know so little.

Inside his chambers, Katsuki sat in front of the fireplace. Patting the place next to his, he gestured for Cat to sit. With curiosity written all over her face, she entered the dimly lit room and sat, legs crossed.

“Speak with me, Cat.” He said, no doubt she knew what he wanted. In the fruit garden, Katsuki felt the need to have her be true to him. Now, it was only a game. He didn’t care whether she was forcing, lying or spitting facts about herself, all he needed was for her to feel safe. Could he fool her, lure her like a moth to light, or will he just have to take her by force?

He slowly got why they called her Cat. The captain was agile and quick, silent and with a certain liquid-like laziness to her. Cats’ had claws, sure, but they would not stand a chance in front of a lion.

“So, you’re gonna become a nobility? How generous of my mother.” The blonde nearly laughed. So very generous to me.

“My task requires me to attain that title, yes.” She was looking around the room, from the fur draped bed in the far back, through the windows now obliterated with heavy covers, to the fireplace that cast a warm hue on her features.

“If I was you, I’d rather stay a nobody.” A slight scrunch to her nose and Katsuki knew she wanted to say something but her lips remained a straight line. “Not spilling your secrets, huh?”

“You’re not spilling yours, my prince.” Her turn of tables was sudden, she seemed a master at guiding a conversation away from herself.

“What secrets do I have? There is no such thing as privacy for a prince.” His eyes wandered to her crossed legs, just for a second, not to draw unwanted attention from the vigilant, strange eyes. Will she fight? Will she tear her claws into his back or will she succumb, like a cute little kitten?

“Everyone has secrets.”

“And my mother has the most.”

Cat let out a small, genuine laugh. It was like a warm breeze from over the beach on a spring day that you don’t expect, one that has you thinking about the beauty of summer, glistering water and hot days. One that puts a smile on your face. For a second Katsuki thought that making her hate him could hurt. But then, she rested her hands on the floor behind her, her chest stretching, the adorned buttons reflecting the light of the fireplace, the crest of his royal family. His thought was gone, like a single strand of silk that snaps. It was replaced with the need to tear those buttons, one by one, showing her how deep in his ass he had her duty.

“When will you get the title?”

“In a month.” Her eyes never really landed on him since she entered the room.

“So simultaneously with the first engagements.” He stated, matter-of-factly.

There was a shuffle and one of the covers moved as if a strong wind smacked the side of the castle. In an instant Cat went from relaxed and lazy to high alert. It made Katsuki second guess his strength over her.

“Stay put, my prince, I will check this.” With a knife steady in her hand, the captain crept up to the window, her steps silent as ever. After peaking out her head slowly she let her shoulders slump back. “It’s just a fat owl.”

Cat took her place back beside him, hiding the knife away. Just how many did she hold?

“Speaking of engagements.” Something shifted in the way she was looking at him, from under her lashes, her pupils strangely small. Suddenly, Katsuki felt like a prey. “How is your wife hunt going?”

So he wasn’t the only one titling the whole farce a hunt. Nonetheless, the question took him off guard and the blonde promised himself to punish her for each and every time she’d done that so far.

“Like each year. I’m sending hateful letters and pretending not to see Ochaco’s tries to get pregnant with that useless scholar of hers.” He had to take it slow, getting closer inch by inch.

Cat hummed in response, seemingly falling in deep thought. Turning, she lay down, her cheeks facing the fireplace to catch more of the delicious warmth. “Your mother seems to be displeased with your doings, my prince.”

“Nothing I do ever pleases her.” He scoffed, drinking in her vulnerable position, with hands under her head, one leg propped up.

“That’s because you’re acting like a pawn, not like a player.” The punishment of hers will be severe. “Instead of breaking her rules, challenge them. Make your own plans and put them into action, let them collide with hers to see who can weave a better web.” Cat looked him straight in the eye and what Katsuki saw was some kind of amusement, as if the woman was a spectator in a theatre, watching the play unfold before her.

Once again Katsuki felt like he realised something too late.

“Do you want to be a nobility?” He asked, his voice shaky with excitement and unease.

“I’ve already told you, I was fine as a nobody but my task requires me to be elevated.” Her voice was utterly disinterested, as if she was talking about someone else.

She was forced into things just as much as he was. She was a pawn and how could she not be exasperated with his doings. He was indeed acting like the little chess piece in his mothers arms, able to move only one square each side on his own. All the while he had the potential to become a player. Don’t worry my dear, I will answer your silent prayer. With the way she spoke to him, to the best of her ability given her position, the way she moved, the way she looked at him. It was all a quiet ask for him to use the given situation.

Katsuki didn’t know the details of this supposed mission of hers, why she had to become a nobility, but what he knew, finally caught, was that she looked for a way to wiggle out of it. He was the way.

On all fours, the prince crept up to his capitan. She was just about to question what is it that you need, my prince but he silenced her ask with his lips.

His hands roamed the thick black jacket, tearing the upper buttons just as he wished to, lips clasped tightly around hers, tongue exploring the bratty, nonchalant mouth. As he tore down the jacket and blouse from one of her shoulders, revealing her soft skin and one of her breasts, he spotted little scars scattered every now and then. Without second thought he began marking the uneven skin from the crook of her neck to the soft mound. Katsuki felt the need to grind on her tight, his excitement growing at the taste of her cleavage and then he received a hard kick to his abdomen.

He felt the heat of her body slip from under him as he fell forward, cheek hitting the place where she was just a second ago, the prickly rug damaging the side of his face. A weight on his back forced him down, a dull pain spreading from under one of his shoulder blades. The prince wanted to gasp but there was no air in his lungs, his throat constricted by a tiny hand with nails way too sharp.

“What is it that you’re doing, my prince?” Her voice was venomous, like she wanted to spit on him. Her hand grabbed his fair hair, letting him take in a shaky breath. He was forced to look at her from the corner of his eye, his scalp burning with the way she tugged his strands.

Her jacket and blouse were still undone, now both of her breasts spilling out, revealing a set of marks twin to the one he just gave her. Katsuki started to laugh.

“So you’re allowed to sleep around with others but I’m not good enough for you, huh?” The blonde didn’t know what hurt more, the grip on his hair, the knee in his shoulder blade or the rejection and lack of willpower to throw her off.

“You’re my prince, I could not possibly sleep with you.” She spat.

“Prince this, prince that. Fuck you.” He bared his teeth at her, but all that it gave him was dust in his mouth. “I’m too much of a price to get to dick you down but not prince enough to not treat me like a peasant thief! Let go of me, posing danger to your crown is punished by death.”

“I’m not posing any danger to you, my prince. Just keeping you on the right track. My ass is not beside it.”

“Everyone gets to tell me what to do. Get the hell off of me and fuck off, you and everyone!” His trashing built up. The prince tried to surpass the pain in his back but the more he moved, the harder she pushed. Her knee slid dangerously to his spine and dug in, earning a cry from him.

“Then stop fucking around and start acting. Stop pushing your nose in other peoples’ games and start playing your own, my prince.” With that she let go.

As soon as he felt relief in his back, Katsuki jumped to his knees with a hiss, the bruised muscles burning. He swung around drawing a knife of his own but the captain was already at the door. She pulled the loose material of her blouse making her breasts jiggle and fall back into their constricts. Katsuki wished to grab them as hard as her throat to choke all of her curses right out, fuck her until she couldn’t think of any more.

A look of disgust, one of hatred, fear or at least hurt, anything would be better than the expression she held. Her eyes were focused, crazed, corners of her lips turned upwards in a grin, the overall look apologetic. She traced the hickeys on her neck with a finger before letting her arm loose.

Cat pushed the door open and disappeared into the night. Mere seconds after the knife dug into the wood just where her forehead was. Katsuki stood alone in the dimly lit room unable to throw the look of her face out of his head. Once again he felt like his actions were not his own, like he was a puppet with millions of strings pulled by everyone.

The golden prince asking for a private audience with the queen was nearly as rare as getting struck by lightning twice, or shitting out a diamond. Yet, here he was, opening the door to her sombre writing room, the lowlife soldiers and gardeners whispering behind his back.

Yesterday night had him thinking hard, hard enough to cause a persistent headache. He didn’t give a shit about Cat’s rejection. Truth be told, he did not need overflowing affection to force her into a relationship, which is what he demanded right now.

Katsuki has been beaten in training, thousands of bruises littering his skin after every match with Kirishima. The prince was berated for his attitude by scholars and other hotshots of this kingdom. He was feared and despised by damsels who faked their interest, performing the never ending ritual of fluttering their eyelashes and sparing him glances appropriate for virgins. Katsuki was many things and beard even more every day on the court, but never has he felt as used as he does now.

Stop pushing your nose in other peoples’ games and start playing your own, my prince.

He wished never to play any games, he desired nothing more but a truthful life and even more clear ruling. He promised himself that he would never be like his mother. He was supposed to be a lion, a dragon, not a spider sitting in the dark, weaving never ending strings of lies and deception. Katsuki will achieve what he wants, and he will force the woman that used him so badly last night to finally see with her own eyes that a crystal clear world is possible, under his watchful eye.

She will watch and she will gape in awe. Then, she will thank me.

Was it a simple demonstration of power that he wanted? Did he feel the need to snatch one of his mother’s toys for his own use to anger her? Did he want Cat to sob, kneeling and clutching his cloak, thanking him for breaking her out from the web. Did he want to break her out? Was he seeing a reflection of himself in her so very strange eyes, what he could have been if he let his mother toss him around? Or maybe he simply wanted to silence her, show her that at the end of the day he’s the one dealing the cards of their fate.

Katsuki was not sure what his intentions were. What he did plan though, all night long, was his next step.

“Listen closely ‘cause I’ll only say it once.” The blonde shut the heavy door, leaving all of the whispers and commotion outside. The smell of parchment and ink was heavy in the dusty air.

“What do you want from me today, brat?” Mitsuki sighed.

“I decided on my bride. I want -”

The queen started silencing him, waving a ring-heavy hand in front of her face. This indeed was a strange day because Katsuki listened.

“Let me savour this moment, son.” Son. The word left her lips so rarely it sounded exotic. The queen stood up, shoving the dark adorned chair and straightening her dress. She circled the desk, reached for two goblets and poured wine for both of them, blood red wine. “So, who’s the unlucky one?”.

“Cat, in a month. When she will become a nobility.” The vessel felt odd in his hand. Katsuki never really drank with his mother on other occasions than representative ones. This intimate moment, the two of them sharing good wine, discussing the future, and coming to an agreement, Katsuki could almost get fooled. Almost.

“Not a chance.” She threw disinterested, not interrupting her savouring of the wine.

“One scandal is all I need to make the girl utterly worthless, the only option she - the both of you will have is either give her away to me or have her disgraced for life.” The bloody liquid shook in his golden goblet.

“As if you would be able to corner her.” The queen laughed, a venomous, derogatory snicker. “Don’t even get started. I already know about everything from yesterday.”

Katsuki scoffed. So she did run back to her torturer and spill out everything, just as she promised she wouldn’t.

There is no such thing as a promise here, on court.

Of course, she never even promised anything in the first place.

“And here I was, thinking you got smarter over the night.” The queen sat down by the desk, getting back to her initial position and attitude, cold, closed, and angry.

“What is your problem? Why can’t I get her? She’s strong and seems rather clever, knows a lot about the court and will be free of any family baggage.” Katsuki put the wine on his mother’s desk, restraining himself from dousing her mocking face in it.

“The girl has other duties.” Dipping a long quill in ink, she began to write, not sparing her son even a glance.

“Ones that she doesn’t want.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“No. But-”

“Then that is not true.” When Mitsuki finally turned towards Katsuki, her gaze was stern and utterly disappointed. A grimace twisted her face, one that often blemished his. They were so similar. “Make a smart choice, take Ochaco. Her family is too poor to pose any political danger to us and they will gladly agree to whatever we say. If you despise her that much you can beget a son with any whore in this kingdom and we will simply make Ochoco pretend it’s hers. From what it looks like the princess already has a sweetheart so as long as you let her keep that boy in her chambers, you won’t have to even look at her a second time.”

Katsuki gritted his teeth until his jaw cried out in pain.

“Is this the life you want for me?” He asked with unconcealed anger oozing out of every pore in his body.

“That’s a life I don’t want for anyone.” She shoved the quill down the long inkpot and looked at her prince. “But you’re a future king, you don’t get the courtesy of doing what you like or want. You do what’s best for the nation, for all of your people.”

Thousands of thoughts spiralled in Katsuki’s aching head, none of which showed him a route to victory in this war. Either way he will lose something. Now, he has to pick how much damage he will inflict on himself in order to please everybody else, to secure the nation, to become a king.

“And what if I give you a compromise, mother.” Without a doubt the name took her by surprise. For a second she saw her little boy, the fair haired ball of anger, clinging to the hem of her dress, shouting and cursing into the air. Mitsuki knew that time was long gone. If she kept treating him like a child, like a son, she would lose her priorities, their shared priorities - the lineage, the court, the kingdom.

“What compromise would it be?”

“I take Ochaco and you give me Cat as a mother of my children. Ochaco will pretend it’s hers in front of the whole damn world. Inside my chambers I get to savour my real family.”

There was a long while of utter silence. No scolding, snickering or curses left the queen’s lips, much to Katsuki’s surprise. Fear and excitement started to sink into his bones, fear for rejection, excitement for the time glimmer of hope that the silence lit.

“I will think about it. That is-” A long sigh, biting her lower lip and looking at the narrow window. “That’s not the best option but it also ain’t the worst one.”

Their gaze met for the last time this day. Her eyes were distant, calculating something in her head, weighing the options and fitting them into her web.

“I will think about it. For now, Cat is withdrawn from your side due to your abuse. The last outbreak of the Todoroki eldest forces me to strengthen their garda with my own forces. I do not wish to put more of my soldiers into broad daylight than I have to, therefore Cat will be appointed as another guard for Todoroki. Kirishima, who I will bring back, and Hound will guard your side in the daytime. For the night, a new guard will be appointed but do care to keep him out of the picture as much as you can.”

“Did you know that our families would already be connected if not for my sister's holy order?”

“Everyone has their duties.”

The lukewarm conversation between Shoto and his newly appointed babysitter made Katsuki nauseous. They were discussing everything and nothing at the same time. How the weather was nice, who would likely get engaged this year, what tea is the most refreshing for the upcoming summer, how buffed sleeves are going into fashion.

“That’s true, but it would be nice to have Katsuki and my sister married.” Saying this the half and half prince looked at his blonde companion. Biting his tongue, Katsuki forced himself to look away. The Todoroki princess was not needed in this conversation. “We did not suppose that Queen Bakugo would only bear one child. That’s a pity but we are still looking for a way to connect our bloodlines.”

We. Shoto was speaking as if he had a say in his fathers plans. The thought of the ethereal prince having more power in his kingdom than Katsuki had in his angered him further. Kirishima huffed quietly as he always did when his golden bastard of a prince became moody. Hound seemed to be sleeping in the back of the open sun terrace where a small social gathering was being held. Supposedly courtesy of Katsuki, truthly his mother's.

“Creating an alliance between the two neighbourhood kingdoms would be a powerful move, your highness.”

“It would. Do you want to try?” Despite a few wide-eyed stares, Shoto grabbed a golden plate with rich chocolate pralines and offered it to Cat.

“I must refuse, your highness.” With a polite face and a tiny smile, the capitan shook her head.

“Such a pity. You don’t like sweets?”

“I do. I just simply don’t have the appetite right now.” Of course she couldn’t scold him by telling the prince that offering what should be for the royals to a mere guard is a faux pas. Katsuki snickered, catching Cat’s gaze, savouring it as long as she spared it.

“Hawks also likse sweets, don’t you?” The centre of all female attention of the room (maybe beside Ochaco) nodded his head. “You two have something in common. That and the fact that you’re both called with animal names.”

The two guards looked at each other. Hawks flashed his signature grin while Cat answered with lack of interest, looking up into the sky .The warm breeze made loose strands of her hair dance. Katsuki wished to comb his fingers in them and grip tight.

“That’s funny. Birds and cats don’t usually go together.” Shoto laughed and a few other people decided it would be a good idea to accompany, even if the joke was lame.

“It’s just a pseudonym, your highness.”

“Oh, so you do have a name? Hawks also has one.” A few interested heads turned their way. “But sadly I don’t know it. And even if I would, I couldn't really tell you.”

“Likewise, your highness.”

Never in his life has Katsuki experienced such a talkative Shoto. The blonde honestly thought that the lack of expression on the stone-like face of the half and half prince connected with his utter silence was the bane of his existence. A chirping Shoto came out to be even worse.

“Now that you’re in my party-” Katsuki hated the sound of those words. “I should have Hawks take you for a flight. The sea looks magnificent from that height.”

Cat clicked her tongue but shut her mouth, opting for a smile only.

“It would be an honour.” The winged man butted in. “Unless you’re scared of heights.”

“I am not, thank you very much.” The civil smile that Cat graced Shoto with turned ironic when she faced Hawks. Katsuki guessed cats and birds indeed don’t go well together, as the two seemed to hold some kind of grudge.

“You should try now! I want to see Hawks fly. The terrace is a perfect spot to take off.” Shoto pointed at the dead drop that fanned out on the other side of the railing. “Believe me it’s fun.”

Without an appropriate option to say no, Cat was left nearing the edge of the sun terrace, looking over into the ground down below. Every head was turned her way, some glances jealous as the winged capitan’s hands snaked around her waist. She twisted in his grab, placing her arms around his neck.

“Should you feel scared, don’t hesitate to use your legs as well.” A grin sprung on his handsome face and a maid sitting behind Katsuki started to fan herself. Katsuki wished for nothing more than to rip the sticky hands of the capitan away from Cat but any outburst could blow his cover. Shoto looked as pleased as punch.

“Thank you, I’ll see how it goes.” At least Cat’s face made Katsuki less angry as she held a slightly disgusted grimace, looking over her shoulder at the drop. Maybe it could be fun, hearing her bloody scream as they take off.

Nothing like that happened. One second Hawks was standing on the railing, with the captain in his hands, the next they were gone. He fell face-forward into the air and a couple of loud flirts later they were both far away, heading for the sea.

Few girls ran to the edge of the terrace, squinting their eyes in the sun, trying to make out the shrinking figures. Hound puffed out air through his nose, standing up from his sitting point, taking the place of the now gone guards beside Shoto’s back.

“Katsuki.”

“Young prince.”

Young prince. The adjective must have tasted like a well aged wine on the tongue of King Todoroki. He savoured every second of diminishing Katsuki. This, the aggression, dominance, and ruthlessness was a game the golden prince knew how to play, and he was more than happy to compete.

“You are not needed in this conversation.” His mother graced him with a pale cheek and a side eyed look. There was no need for her to go to the extent of turning to face him fully, for he was barely a prince.

“Why so? As a future king he may want to bear witness to changes.” Spite as sweet as sun kissed strawberries.

The Queen sent a dirty look towards King Todoroki, but abided by his unusual invitation. As Katsuki took a step inside the darkened room his gaze met Shoto. Changes? What changes were they talking about?

Suddenly Katsuki was back to his youth. Mitsuki dragged him by the shoulder that stretched painfully with every insistent tug. They nearly ran, passing monumental columns and soaring windows. The small, maybe ten years old Katsuki was thrown into a room, the doors shutting behind them as darkness enveloped his boyish figure.

“You are not to play a king when you are not one!”

She yelled, gritting her teeth. All the young prince did was slam through the door to a council meeting, shouting his ideas to the thousand-year-old ministers, just like his mother did every time she felt the need to be heard.

Was he being stuffed in a costume, with a fake crown and staff just now? Were they going to burst in laughter straight to his face? Were they, once again, leaving him behind, deciding what’s the best for him without bothering to ask the object’s opinion? Was this even going to be about him? With two Todoroki members present nothing was certain.

“What are you discussing?” Katsuki knew better than to allow them such games.

“The possibility of connecting our bloodlines.” The Todoroki King outran Mitsuki in his explanation.

“Have you kept a daughter in hiding all these years?” Katsuki snickered, spreading out in the richly padded chair, the soft cushions embracing his tired back.

“It shall not be a true blood connection but one that will be politically accurate.” His mother swished yet another blood red wine around a crystal glass. Some wondered whether she ever drank them or simply held them as decoration.

“And one that will please Shoto.” Since when did the King care for his childrens’ pleasure?

The ethereal prince kept his cool, the porcelain mask that he seemed to have been born with secured his face, declining Katsuki any chance at guessing what hid under the facade. If anything lay there at all.

Weave your own web.

He will not, Katsuki will stand up to any fight thrown his way. He will clash, head straight, with anything that stands in his way. If he is to become the king he wishes to be, he needs to target the right opponent, one that will one day bear the twin seat of kingship.

“So are you finally getting some bitches, half n’ half?”

“I would certainly not call her that.” Shoto looked down to the floor. He seemed to be tracing the hewed lines of the stone, peaking out of the opulent rugs, as if he longed for their cold in this castle burning with hatred.

“Then what would you?”

“I would like to know if she finally decided to give out her name.”

That sickly sweet, hazy gaze, his ring heavy fingers rubbing mindless circles into the chair’s armrest, the lightness of his shoulders. Shoto, despite being the least persistent, the most insular, the quietest and the most delicate looked like a captor in this very moment. He didn’t even spare Katsuki a glance. Why would he? Shoto already got what Katsuki couldn’t have.

There was always the possibility of a misunderstanding. It couldn’t be the enigmatic Cat he was talking about. As much as the golden prince fought with the idea, his instincts told him otherwise. What other nameless woman caught Shoto’s scarce interest? Who else was soon to bear a political position.

The Queen gazed upon a window, a small one embedded into the sloping ceiling, where the moon showed its palace cheek. It was shamelessly bright this might, no clouds obscuring the view. Katsuki wondered whether his mother was a werewolf or a witch, looking so intensely into the silvery disc, not sparing her son even one glance.

Later that night, away in his chambers Katsuki sought the centre of this labyrinth. He was forcefully removed from the small meeting held between the monarchs, as he started an argument that is and would always be out of his power, his mother’s words.

Was it all planned? Was Cat meant for Shoto from the very beginning? It that why she was getting the title? Was she supposed to get closer to the half and half prince by Katsuki’s means?

That would be pointless. She could just be admitted to the Todoroki prince from the beginning. Katsuki’s involvement in this operation didn’t make sense. He was an additional piece that didn’t fit anywhere. And his mother never used to be futile in her resources.

Ever since Katsuki was fifteen, he was forced into every marital council meeting. They were held in a rather grand room, seating kings and queens, their ministers and right-hands. Servants run round with bowed heads pouring wine to goblets that never seemed to be resting on the table, rather the content was being poured down thirsty throats. The chatter was loud, the whole room buzzing like a bees nest. Or more like hornets with how sharp these peoples’ claws were.

The golden prince paced around the castle looking for such a meeting. Sure as hell he should hear them from one of many open doors, he should smell the rich appetisers resting on the long table, he should get a damned invitation to take part! Just as he got one every year, one that was laced with his mother’s threats. If you don’t come I will kill you. Not this year.

As much as the guards and servants tried to dodge his questions, running away in the halls, hiding in chambers, pretending to be busy, all it took was one, too squeaky, cook’s helper. Katsuki learned the meeting was already being held. His mother sure as hell tried to keep him out of this one.

As he stormed the hallways towards the grand room with the painfully long table he gathered his thoughts. Of course he would burst with his decision - he will be with Cat. Katsuki never before wanted any particular wife, he was never interested in any woman like that. Suddenly, in a matter of a few months, one has given him several reasons to claim her.

Of course it would never be love that would be the thing, the force that pushed him towards someone. Katsuki was not sure whether he even knew what love tasted like. But the thought of taking away one of his mother’s swords excited him as if he was a young boy on his first horse ride. The prince would take the guard, a person so very intimate to his mother, and show her how much better he is. Without the web, the schemes, the grand plans and dirty business, without all this gruesome fakeness she will have the opportunity to be free. And he will savour her freedom as if it was his own. He will hold the decision of her title, he will make her stay a nobody - a sweet, safe and secured nobody.

Together the two of them will rub what best they hold on one another. Her confidence, high held chin and perfect stance, will be the best decoration for his crown, one that she will be in his private chambers - a queen worth her place. Then, Katsuki will grace her with all the time, resources and freedom she will want. Of course as long as she fulfils her duties in the keeping of the lineage, but that is a price she will surely be able to pay. That woman is not stupid.

The golden prince, the golden king will make her pleased and he will spread out a new and better world in front of her - one ruled by lions and cats, not by spiders.

Katsuki will beat Shoto in this game. He will never let the ethereal, thin as air and nonexistent in his own way, take away such a precious gem, one pulsing with life that will surely die out in the cold hands of the Todoroki. He will not let her be taken away from the kingdom she is accustomed to.

Cat will be sharp and nonchalant, lazy and harsh, smiling and teasing all for Katsuki, never for Shoto nor for anyone else.

Was it a pathetic feeling of, once in his life, being phantom close to someone? Was his conqueror nature building up in his veins, ready to overflow any given second? Was it resistance or maybe simply a caprice? With all due respect, Katsuki did not care which he chose to side with, the only thing he was certain as he pushed the door to the meeting room was that he would walk out of here with Cat in hand.

To his utter surprise there were no servants moving around in a mismatched pattern around the room. Wine was scarce as everyone, bunched around the far end of the long table, preferred to keep a sober mind. All the heads darted his way as Katsuki strolled closer to them, hiding his shock at the unusual scene.

“I honestly thought younge prince would be absent today.” King Todoroki laughed shortly, propping both of his elbows on the table, observing Katsuki like a predator.

“How could I miss the council meeting where I announce my bride.”

Despite the king being decision making here, the blonde spoke his words to Shoto. They held a short and intense stare - Katsuki fierce, Shoto not seemingly comprehending.

“And who would that be?” Lord Yaoyorozu peaked from behind the King, his gaze held hope, or rather despair.

“That will be…” For a split second Katsuki looked at his mother. He screamed inside, his ego trashing in the golden cage it was kept hostage. Why from all moments did he have to instinctively look at her? It was his decision, his statement, his milestone and step to take. Why did his gaze wander to her face, and more importantly, why was she nodding? “That will be princess Ochaco.”

Murmurs spread through the small gathering. Someone seemed to pat king Uraraka for he perked up suddenly, whispering prayers.

“That girl is disgraced!” Yaoyorozu seemed too enraged with his defeat, spitting venom on the poor princess. “I want her dignity checked!”

“First of all, her ass is no business of yours, Lord.” As much as he hated himself for this, Katsuki mimicked the manner in which King Todoroki diminished him, piercing the red-faced man with undeniable truth - difference in positions. “Second, I’ve known her for the longest time. That green-haired idiot does not interest me, she can keep him or kill him for all I care. I just want you all off my back and my heir on the way.”

Once again Katsuki mindlessly strayed towards his mother’s gaze. She was eying him intensely, her palms gripping the armrests of her throne. A smirk grazed her sharp features. She threw a quick order at the Yaoyorozu Lord sitting next to her and soon the whole row changed seats, allowing for Katsuki to take place by her side.

“We will play this out just as you wanted.” She whispered when he came close to her and a shiver went up his spine. We, as you wanted. She accepted his compromise. Katsuki came out with a proposition and she heard him, thought it through and let it pass. They were playing on the same side. The prince didn’t know what thrilled him more, the idea of his plan working out or the feeling of having one of the most powerful people next to him, with him for once.

“Very well. Now let’s get back to the matter we were discussing before someone decided it was his turn to speak.” Katsuki remembered, it was the Todoroki King who laughed at his mother hard enough, at the counsil meeting, to make her punish her own son so hard. He started to understand Shoto a bit more - if he had a father like this he would also detach himself from reality.

“Shoto.”

“I ask for the hand of a lady from your kingdom, your highness.” The prince, delicate as a flower, bowed his head slightly, but it quickly sprung up towards the Bakugo Queen. He looked like a kid waiting for a response, whether he can go play outside or not.

“With all due respect, I must decline your offer for now.”

It was the second time this day when the small gathering went rampage with whispers. The men in the room looked around each other in disbelief. The show certainly didn’t go along with the script.

With a hard tug of his father’s hand, Shoto was pushed back into the seat from his standing position. The now disorientated prince looked around the room, at the Queen’s face and finally at Katsuki who was now grinning wide. Something flicked behind his glassy eyes, something like understanding.

“And why is that, your highness?” King Todoroki seemed to send the deadliest looks of them all. At first they were directed at the Queen but soon, he caught Katsuki’s unpleasant smile. “So that’s how you’re playing it out.”

He must have caught the act quickly. The night of Katsuki’s bursting in during the small gathering the four of them held, it gave him out. But it didn’t matter, it had already been decided and no amount of the King’s trashing could override his mother’s words. After all, Cat was a property of the Bakugo’s.

“Bring the girl here.” The King demanded.

“There’s no need for that.”

“If we are to decide on an agreement tonight, the girl will come here. I find it obvious that you suddenly decide to gatekeep a thing that, one way or another, was supposed to connect our kingdoms. I want to, at least, hear the girl say it. I want her to pick!” This time it was the King speaking to Katsuki and not his mother. His nails would surely leave bloody marks with how hard the young prince was digging them into his own palms - all out of excitement. “I want her to come here, look at you, and tell us all she picks you.”

Cold sweat seemed to grow on Katsuki’s skin. One look at his mother and she knew he didn’t talk to the very girl. Yet, he was sure she would pick him over Shoto.

“What is going on, who are you talking about?” King Uraraka seemed as lost as the rest of the people, save for the Bakugos and Todorokis. “Weren’t you just talking about marrying Ochaco, prince?”

“And I will. I will make her my wife and then both of us can go back to our own… picks.”

Finally, the Uraraka king seemed to understand. His gaze lowered slightly as his back plopped against the chair. Despite the rather pitiful look of a man who knew his worthlessness, he did not oppose a single word. Maybe he knew what Katsuki was offering was honestly the best option for his daughter. Even though their royal family would most likely be a mixture of green, blonde and god knows what else.

“Fine. Go get the girl.”

A few long minutes passed in silence. The only sound in the room was the cracking of wood in the big fireplace. The air seemed to buzz with anticipation and unease. No one dared to look at each other. No one except for Katsuki drilling holes in Shoto’s mismatched head.

When the doors opened to reveal Cat all faced her way. She stood by the large, wooden wings.

“Come.” The Queen ordered.

Cat looked into the hallway she just came through as if someone would be there. After a second she came closer, with a few long strides, and was now standing with her hands behind a straight back, waiting for more orders. Despite her confident face she was looking upwards.

“Due to a misunderstanding we wish to ask you something.” The Queen turned directly to her guard and Katsuki followed her gaze. Cat was standing just behind his shoulder. If he reached out his hand he could grab her, touch her, signal to her to give the damn right answer to the upcoming question. But she was looking upwards, avoiding even his mother’s gaze, like a good soldier. “Do you wish to attain a title of nobility and be honoured with the possibility of connecting the Bakugos to the Todorokis in a political agreement, or do you wish to stay lowborned and help to elongate the Bakugo lineage.”

Silence fell upon the room as all awaited for an answer, one that could change the political stability of millions of square kilometres. Some feared, some sought possibilities, others clenched their jaws or bore their eyes into the guard, standing alone like a single strand of grass in a thunderstorm.

Cat took in a sharp breath and for the first time, she looked down on the Queen. At that moment Katsuki knew his world was about to fall apart once again. She never would and never will talk to him, with him, as he needs it.

Slowly, the woman went lower and lower, bending her knees, her back, her neck. She dropped onto the floor silently which made her voice contrast even more. She spoke with reserve and power.

“If I may beg you, your highnesses, I wish to finish the original plan.” I pick Shoto, I wish to be a nobility, I hate you. Katsuki braced himself for one of these, what other reason would she have for not looking at him as she made her decision? Cat picked her head up from next to her knee and looked straight at the Queen. “I missed four breaks in my service.”

The Queen gasped. It was short and unexpected, only for Katsuki and Cat to see. She blinked a few times as if trying to get rid of the shock from her features before she faced the other way, back to the awaiting group.

“Enji, I think we might have overdone ourselves this time.” Both Todorokis turned abruptly towards the Queen. Shoto was shell shocked from hearing his fathers name fall out of the queen's lips. The King looked stunned as his son.

“The original plan.” He muttered.

“What the fuck is the original plan? What break in service?” Katsuki cried out like a madman for truthly, he felt mad. Plans in plans in plans.

“Everyone out!” The Queen rising to her feet was all that it took for the rest of the men to usher out of the room. All they did was look back behind the shoulders and whisper. Weak.

It was only the five of them left and the room felt like a gruesome overkill. Without much comprehension Katsuki switched between looking at his mother and Cat, both of whom didn't spare him a single glance since the enigmatic words. King Todoroki was still seated in his original place, with his face in his palms, calculating something meticulously in his head. Shoto looked as disorientated as he was at the beginning, failing to grasp even a strand of understanding in this strange situation. Now, he opted to look at his father’s cheek, awaiting an explanation.

“What is the original plan?” Katsuki hated the need to repeat himself.

“The original plan can come in, I think.” The Queen sighed, gulping down wine that she greedily clawed at the moment she sat back in her spacious throne. Soon, she repeated the same but this time she was shouting.

The doors began to open slowly, as if someone was testing the waters before jumping into the whirlpool before him. A crimson wing was first to enter, then a halo of golden hair and strange marked eyes that quickly fished out his target in the group. Hawks came to a stop just behind his king, mimicking the way in which Cat was holding herself.

“Did the two of you… proceed with the plan?” Enji Todoroki broke the silence first.

“Yes, my king.” Hawks answered for them both.

“When?”

“First thing when we came here, around four months ago.” Hawks looked somewhere far, into a memory maybe, one that was not brought back to life, wrestled out of the nooks and crannies of his privacy. “We did not expect… such obstacles.”

“Because there shouldn’t have been any obstacles in the first place.” The Queen was looking down, on the table, her eyes darkened. “We got caught up in our sons’ stupid games, Enji.” The king's name felt oddly at home on her tongue. The third person she used, how she removed both of the princes from the conversation. Thai was not meant for their ears, they were only unlocking this secret because someone, by mistake, pushed the keys into their hands in a hurry. They stood in the right place at the right time.

“Then we shall proceed with the plan.” The Todoroki King finally looked up and turned towards Hawks. His ever-scolding gaze felt light right now, like he was testing something, looking for a sign on his guard's face.

“I will ask for the last time…” Katsuki desperately tried to earn some attention, to finally know what the whole farce was about.

“What you will do is shut up and listen, for I will only tell it once.” His mother’s words were sharp but her gaze was apologising when she looked at him. As if she was silently trying to tell him, I’m sorry. And Katsuki will understand her, because in the end even she was stripped down from the possibility of choosing who really dealt the cards.

“The original plan, one that has been going on for years now, was to breed, create two strong people - a man and a woman. Many were tested, many like the ones that consist of my or the King’s personal guards.” Katsuki knew who she meant, not the regular soldiers but the ones like Cat and Hound. “When we found two that would perfectly match each other we were supposed to title them nobility and marry them together to produce even better offspring. Children that would join the two kingdoms with a tie so strong that no one would have the guts to attack and expose oneself to the power.”

“And these people are…” Shoto finally mustered the strength to mutter.

“At this point there is no denying that the plan will succeed. There is no chance Shoto will have Cat and neither can Katsuki. Both of you could ruin the royal lineage if your supposed firstborn came out with red wings.”

From the very beginning, from the moment Katsuki wandered his mother’s garden at night and found Cat shuffling around the bush, she already weaved her web. They already weaved their web. The business she had to take care of at free days, the hickeys he found under her collar, around her breast, maybe even further. The fat owl who sat that night on the windowsill. It was him, him all along, everywhere behind her, inside her, with her.

Her strange pupils that now, finally, found a place in Katsuki’s mind. A cat, elongated and extremely sensitive to light and relaxation. Maybe she didn’t have such grand evidence of her animal nature like Hawks but sure as hell she acted on her instincts.

“We need to arrange the wedding quickly or else you will miraculously bear a child in three months.” The Queen sighed.

“Best to do it next week, as an opening of the season.” The King answered.

Katsuki lacked the willpower to fight anymore. How could he win her over when he already lost at the beginning. Soon, he will have a seat in the first row to see Cat take the hand of a different man. In a matter of months he will be able to look at the fruit of their… what was it between them? Nature, instincts, orders, loyalty or love? Maybe he would ask her. Maybe she will tell him what’s it like?

As Katsuki looked at Cat, she was already gazing into him, through him. For the first time since he met her she looked taken aback. Her plan worked and all that will have to settle into her brain. Apart from the trouble on her face there was also regret, her eyes spoke a silent apology. Not for Shoto, not for the Queen but for him. She used everyone she could. From the moment she realised Katsuki was after her, she led him to inappropriate actions and ran off to Shoto. Then, the half and half also started to pose as an obstacle, like he always does. But somehow, in this enormous whirlwind of schemes and lies, they found the way to each other.

What else could push people to do things that crazy if not love? And when she could finally face him, face Hawks, Katsuki saw one of the most beautiful smiles he would ever experience in his life. And as the two could finally close into an embrace, Hawks ever so attentive of her abdomen, and seal their feelings with a kiss, Katsuki couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried.

Thank you so much for reading! I'm thinking about a small continuation of how Katsuki's and everyone's life is after the wedding, but that's a matter for another day.

[cambion-companion]

alicent gets SO much hate from the fandom even from aemond writers 😔 i trust you and your good taste that you don’t hate her and write something where aemond’s wife and alicent absolutely ADORE each other and aemond loves to see it and is so happy about his two favourite people in the world being so close

Yes, the more I watched the show the more I grew to like Alicent until her line "Hesitance to murder is not a weakness", then I was like "yep I love this woman."

The Driftmark scene is such a powerful one, I included some of the dialogue. Alicent's reaction was justified, no one was backing her up, or taking responsibility for MAIMING her son, so she felt the need to escalate the situation. And good for her.

Word count: 1366

Aemond x reader | fluff | Pro Alicent Hightower | Sweet drabble

The shouting is what had alerted you to something being amiss in the castle, raised voices echoing up the empty stone corridors as you poked a curious head out your bedroom door.

You had been sent to be princess Helaena's handmaiden at the age of thirteen, finding the Red Keep to be suffocating most of the time, thankful for this chance to travel elsewhere. Driftmark had proven to be lovely, even if the reason for your journey was not at all a happy one.

Pulling on your heavy nightrobe, you made your way hastily toward the sound of shouting coming from a firelit room at the end of the hallway. You peeked in, seeing that it was indeed very crowded, children clinging to their parents as Viserys and Alicent argued. You spotted Helaena over by the large fireplace standing beside her brother, Aegon. Next to them, sitting on the sofa, blood covering his swollen face...you gasped audibly, drawing the attention of those standing nearest to the entrance.

Aemond clearly very injured, the boy you'd become close friends with had stitches running down the left side of his face, his eye...you blinked back a sting of sudden tears, his eye had been slashed out. Not caring what gossip arose from your actions, you hastened to Aemond's side. He looked up at you in mild surprise at your sudden appearance, his expression turning stony as he tried to turn the injured side of his face away from your probing gaze.

You touched his hand that clutched at the cushions, opening your mouth to say something, but a scuffle of movement behind you caught your attention as Alicent went for Viserys' knife and turned toward Rhaenyra and her children.

Rhaenyra intercepted her, the two women locked in a standoff with the other, Alicent gripping the blade tightly in her shaking hand.

"You've gone too far." Rhaenyra said emphatically, still holding tight to her once-friend's arms.

"I?" Tears streaked down Alicent's face as she continued struggling. "What have I done, but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law while you flout it all to do as you please!"

"Alicent, let her go!" King Viserys, old as he was, looked livid as he yelled at his wife.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" She continued, taking no heed to the king. "It is trampled under your pretty foot again."

"Release the blade, Alicent." Otto's measured voice this time, trying to reason with his daughter.

She continued staring at Rhaenyra, refusing to drop the knife, her expression morphing from desperation to a look of betrayal. "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Rhaenyra at last responded. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are."

With a sharp cry, Alicent broke away from her grasp, bringing the dagger down, cutting deep into Rhaenyra's arm. The room fell deathly silent, each person present sensing the gravity of what had just occured. The dagger fell from Alicent's open palm, clattering on the stone floor.

The heavy air was broken as Aemond spoke, drawing your attention back to him as he approached Alicent. "Do not mourn me, mother." His voice was soft, tired. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

You knew his words were more to draw attention away from what had just occurred, his mother injuring the heir to the Iron Throne. Though young, Aemond was no fool, and neither were you. You were aware of his abiding love for his mother, watching as he took her hand in both of his, laying his injured head against her chest.

The scene cleared quickly after that, parents ushering their frightened children back to bed. You lingered in the hall, wanting to stay by your friend's side. Helaena touched your shoulder, smiling at you weakly before departing the room as well.

After several long moments, the room was empty save for you, Aemond and Alicent. It took minutes more for Alicent to come back to herself, taking a deep breath and looking down at her son. "Come, Aemond, you need to rest in order to heal."

Her gaze lifted to you, seeming surprised to see you standing still by the fire. "Y/N, the hour is late. You should also be in bed."

You noticed Aemond didn't look at you, standing motionless, gripping his mother's hand loosely.

"Can I be of any help at all, your grace?" You weren't sure why, but the question you posed, and the earnestness behind it, had an effect on the queen. Her expression softened, lip trembling slightly. "I will call on you in the morning, Y/N. For now, get some sleep."

Call on you she did, and for many weeks following it was Alicent and Aemond you spent the majority of your time with. Helaena didn't seem to mind, in fact she would accompany you often, helping where she could, fetching hot water and healing ointments for her younger brother.

Aemond's demeanor at your presence, at first tense and cold, eased as time passed. He looked at you more, allowing you to change his bandages and read to him at night.

Alicent was warm toward you, quickly becoming someone you looked to as a maternal figure, filling an ache in your heart you'd been unaware was there. Her gratitude for your help and care was obvious, it grew apparent not many others in the castle shared your sympathies for the prince. You heard many unkind whispers spreading throughout the Keep, doing your best to pay them no attention.

One day, Aemond almost fully healed, you were packing up the many salves and ointments the maesters had provided. Alicent approached you, touching a warm hand to your shoulder as she often did. "Y/N, you have gone above and beyond any expectations I had of you in helping my son. You are the handmaiden of my daughter, I know you are friends but why do you care so for Aemond's wellbeing?"

You looked up into her face, smiling slightly. "I heard what happened, I saw how alone you were that night. No one else helped, and I don't think that's fair."

"Oh child." Alicent's eyes grew bright with unshed tears as she pulled you against her in a tight hug. "You are a balm sent from the Mother Herself." She lowered herself to crouch at your level, cupping your chin with her hand. "If you ever find yourself in need of anything, you come to me."

She placed a brief kiss to your forehead before sending you out of the room, back to your normal duties.

From then on, the two of you became close as though she were your actual mother and you, her daughter. Many years passed; she was the one you went to when you had questions about growing into womanhood, about all troubles that weighed upon your mind. Your bond with Aemond only strengthened as well, he sought you out often in your reading nook of the library. You would stay up late nights with the prince discussing all interesting things from the history of dragon riding to the customs of Ancient Valyria.

When you were sixteen and he thirteen, Aemond began teaching you some Old Valyrian, at your request. He saw how much Alicent adored you, her face brightening into a fond smile whenever you walked into a room. He loved you for it. There was precious little that brought true happiness to Alicent, her affection for you soothed her troubled heart.

Aemond observed your interactions often with a soft smile upon his face, his feelings for you slowly growing from friendship to something more. He couldn't name what it was that had changed, there were precious few in his life whom he could say he genuinely loved. His mother was top of that short list, his one defender, the woman who had vouched for him when no one else did. Your evident devotion to her, the time you spent talking to her, leaning your head on her shoulder, had left a warm impression upon Aemond's heart. He wouldn't forget the peace you brought those he cared for most, and he intended to make sure you stayed in their lives.

[jacespookiebear]

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 5

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 3-4 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

“Hush now, Princess,” Lysanna tried her best to console you as you kept spurting tears. You blew into the tissue she gave you. “You were only frustrated..” you were all back on Dragonstone from Driftmark, except for the Ser Laenor, who was murdered, in his own home and in his father’s hall. Not only were your nephews grieving over their father’s death but you all had just came back from the wedding ceremony of Daemon and Rhaenyra. The Old Valyria wedding put all kind of emotions on the children’s faces, especially Daemon’s daughters. You and Lysanna certainly had no clue on what to feel. But you weren’t crying about that, it has been over a few weeks since you told your step-mother a heavy lie, it had you refuse to even look or speak to your nephew, Jace, ever since.

“And what of my nephew?!” you lifted your head to face Lysanna, who frowned and could not speak another word. “He will forever curse me once he finds out! He will hate me..” you continued to sob and sneeze into the tissue. Rhaenyra was there, hearing of it all. She wasn’t mad at all, no, she was quite contented! But had worried for you, of course.

Though, she had thought it was wrongful to put yourself and her family in a bad position with Alicent. Daemon thought you were fussing over nothing. Honestly, the couple wouldn’t mind if you were to be betrothed to the eldest son, your bond with Jace reassured Rhaenyra that it would be a marriage of eternal happiness and love. “Sister, stop your cries. I had no idea you had thought of Jace as a potential suitor.” She lightly chuckled. You scoffed at her comment, but said nothing . The corners of her lips lifted and her eyes glint with wonder, “Jace would never hate you. In fact, I believe this is what he always wanted.”

You got up from your chair to circle around your lady-in-waiting and your sister, clearly getting ready to rant some more. “You don’t understand!” you choked on your tears and gave yourself another break to breathe, like what Lysanna told you to. “I said a lie..a lie that is utterly unacceptable! Jacaerys said it himself—if he was to be betrothed, it would be out of duty not out of love!” you continued as the two listens, “And I have been ignoring the poor boy..I’m the worst person to have ever lived in the Realm..”

“Stop that nonsense now, Y/n,” Rhaenyra ordered, and suddenly there was a knock on your chamber doors and it began to swing, you quickly ran out of the view and under your bed:

“It must be Jace! I can’t look at him in the eye!”

You heard Rhaenyra groan at the way you hid so quickly, Lysanna laughing at the scene. Jace entered the chambers, with a frantic look on his face.

“Mother,” he muttered, turning to look around the room and once he was done, he frowned at his unsuccess. “have you seen the Princess? I searched the entire castle for her. We have not spoken since..I am worried..” you felt your heart break at his words and tone.

“My darling boy,” Rhaenyra smiled, she and Lysanna exchanged a look to each other before continuing, “I heard she might be in the gardens..but before you go, you must answer me truthfully.“

Jace stared back at his mother and gave a slight nod, wondering what she wanted to ask. He was worried it was a question concerning the Princess, you.

“Are you upset with the Princess?”

The question made Jace blink in confusion. He wondered where did his mother get the impression that he was in distress. But to answer her, he shook his head, “No. Why would I be?” he asked, curiously. Rhaenyra only smiled in return and slightly shrugged her shoulders,

“No reason,” your sister said, “be sure to tell your aunt.” Jace nodded and pardoned himself to leave the chambers, continuing his mission to look for you before having to go back to his studies with your uncle, Daemon. Once he left, you slid out from under your bed and heard Lysanna continue her laughing fit, you gave her a glare in return.

Rhaenyra got up from her seat and had plan to leave but before she could, she turned to look over to you, “You should go to him. Talk to him—he will understand. If you want my truth, I believe Jacaerys would be the perfect suitor for you.”

Your sister gave you a smile before she walked out. You bit your lip in frustration, she was possibly right. Lysanna helped you off the floor, quickly fixing your hair before you excused her to go find the twins and Luke to play in the library like always. After some time of hesitation, you finally walked through the halls of the castle and went outside to the gardens to find your nephew. Finding him was easy as he was near Meraxes, who was laying next to the trees, resting.

Your nephew looked rather stubborn when he couldn’t see you anywhere near your dragon but his face was quickly lit up when you approached him. “Princess!” he ran up to you, Meraxes slightly lifted her head and let out a huff, it was a sign that she missed your presence.

“Forgive me, my Prince,” you fiddled with your sleeves, you gave Jace a neutral smile. He looked confused for why you were apologizing, “These past few days…I have left you in the shadows..”

Jace nodded in agreement but held no ill feelings towards you. He watched as you began to pick at your skin once again and stopped you before your skin could turn red. “You must hate me.”

“I do not,” he answered, “I have missed you.”

“What a sweet reassurance.” You dryly confessed.

“You’re troubled,” Jace noted, curiously. “I wish to help you if only you tell me.” You hesitated to speak once more but Rhaenyra’s words clouded your thoughts and you grew more confident.

You gave your nephew a genuine smile and signaled him to walk with you through the gardens. “I am to be betrothed.” Jace quickly whipped his head to the side to look at you, panic spread all over his face. He did not look happy, not one bit.

“To whom?!”

“Well—many great houses had offered their sons’ to me. Uncle certainly had enjoyment in declining every offer,” you explained, “he says no lord deserves the hand of the Realm’s Beauty.”

Jace, still not convinced, he bore an emotionless expression as you finished speaking. “Are you to marry a Martell?” he asked, you shook your head once again. You were making his head spin, then who were you supposed to marry?

“It is my duty to tell you the truth,” you begun. You let out a deep breath and took Jace’s hands into yours, “I had whispered such lies about us and for that, I am terribly sorry, my sweet nephew,” the anticipation left Jace very impatient and nervous, “I have spoken on your behalf to the Queen…we would be married..” after the long line of silence, certainly you expected a harsh shove and a angered expression but instead he tightened his grip on your hands.

“I will do my best to honor you, my Princess. I am relieved to hear you say those words.”

You shook your head at his words, surely he was only saying those out of duty. You wanted his honest feelings. “Please do not lie. It was my fault, it is not my place to speak wrongfully about you and for that I am terribly sorry.”

Jace grumbled at how you pulled away. “It does not matter,” he says, “I am quite contented to know you want us to be betrothed…are you?”

His question burned into your head, you did not know how to feel or what to say. You are happy to know that your nephew was on your side, that you do not need to marry a high lord from a great house. House Baratheon and House Lannister were amongst them and were rather desperate for your hand, your uncle tells you—from the many letters they sent and offers they bargained to the King. Rhaenyra had liked the decision of offering your hand to the new Warden of the North—Cregan Stark, he was around the same age as you and is a capable fighter. But you were happy enough to know you would marry your nephew, he would make you happy and is a noble boy who has respect and honor unlike your brother, Aegon.

“I am happy.” you insisted, truthfully. 



To your answer, Jace looked relieved and sighed happily. He gave you a smile and you both continued to walk together while he began holding onto your hand.

That settles, you thought. You will marry Jacaerys.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

As times have passed, 2 years to be exact, very quickly. You had just turned ten-and-seventh and your betrothed certainly had many plans in mind for his ten-and-fourth nameday that was coming up. Rhaenyra had decided to let the celebrations be held in King’s Landing, to the King’s requests. The halls of where meetings were held, you sat in front of your sister and uncle who had continued making preparations for your wedding. Your betrothed was running late, Lysanna had informed you that he slept late last night.

“I had already requested for an Old Valyrian wedding,” you reminded for the hundredth time. Your uncle, Daemon was all on board for it, you are a Targaryen and you must stick to traditions. “I do not wish to be married under the Seven. I do not believe in the Seven. This is my marriage, remind the Queen of that.”

Rhaenyra tapped on the wooden table, she received word from the Queen that she would like to also be part of the planning of your wedding. She wished for you to have a wedding under the Seven, with all the Great Houses present, but you wanted an Old Valyrian wedding. For years, you planned for your wedding to be held under the great traditions of your house. Rhaenyra was rather frustrated to be in the middle of your quarrel with your step mother but of course, Daemon found it amusing.

Your elder sister let out a tired sigh, she leaned into her seat. Although she sided with you but the Queen had very much insisted on this matter. “I understand, sister. But I have tried to reason with the Queen. I shall talk more on the matter when we arrive to King’s Landing for Jace’s nameday.” as she finished, the doors opened and your lady-in-waiting, Lysanna, arrived with a handful of letters.

“My Princess, I brought the letters that you had asked for,” she announced and you ushered her to come closer. The letters that you had Lysanna prepare to send across to the North, to her brother, the lord of Winterfell. Letting Lord Stark know you were arriving to visit Winterfell after your wedding. You’ve been planning to have a trip in the North for years now and you made sure to also bring Lysanna. She had shown to be grateful to visit her brother after years of being apart.

“Very well, Liz,” you spoke happily, you looked over at the letters with content and they were all beautifully written. Lysanna was known to be very proud of her penmanship, since she had become learning how to write, her main duties were to write all the letters that were to be sent from Dragonstone. “Have a raven send them off. And with our preparations..let us be finished, sister, I shall retrieve to my chambers.” you wished, with a nod from your sister, you had left your seat. As you left, Lysanna stayed behind to talk with Rhaenyra and Daemon about the continued demand letters from House Lannister, it’s been years since Rhaenyra announced your betrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon and yet, House Lannister had still insisted on offering Jason Lannister’s hand.

With each step towards your chambers, you grew more irritated. Irritated towards your step-mother, who wouldn’t take no for answer. You felt yourself grow mad everyday. As though you are in Dragonstone, miles away from King’s Landing, your step-mother still found a way to have a say in every decision you tried to make.

With you occupied in your own thoughts, you suddenly felt large but strong hands wrapped around your torso and pulled you inside in a room— a room that looked to be Jace’s chambers. Letting out a loud gasp, you heard a chuckle. Once you turned, you saw your betrothed. He was dressed in his training attire. Jace had grown so much, he grown to be more taller and bigger. His looks are more defined and mature, no longer possessing those chubby cheeks you had always squished when he was younger. But Jace could say the same about you.

You always were beautiful, but still you had changed, a lot. Your hair grew more longer and fuller. The curls appeared to be tighter with the years that had passed. Certainly he had watched your breasts and hips mature as well, you no longer had the ability to wear the dresses you had owned since you were twelve. Rhaenyra had the seamstress make you a whole closet filled of gowns after your ten-and-fifth nameday. Now you mainly wear blue and purple gowns to honor your betrothed’s house. You had still worn red and black gowns from time to time, though, you missed wearing white. It was a color that suited you better than any color, everyone in the Kingdom would agree.

“Ñuha hūra qēlossās,” Jace cupped your face, with your frustrations still bubbling inside you, you moved away from his touch. Noticing on your behavior, he did not urge to touch you again, wanting to respect you. “my apologies for not arriving at the planning..”

“You said you would make an effort in attending.” you remembered. As much as you loved Jace, you couldn’t help but feel a little unsure in this betrothal. Making your way near his window sill, you could feel Jace’s presence behind you.

He sighed, sitting on the couch that was nearby instead of being right by your side. He wanted you to come to him when you were ready. “Indeed I have..promised...” he knew he screwed up. You were already so tense about the whole wedding and to make it even worse, he couldn’t show up to the preparations.

Silence covered the room, it went by slowly. Jace was impatient, he wanted you to speak. To break the silence. To break the awkward atmosphere in the room. But you continued to look out the window, you watched Meraxes fly freely in the sky, Vermax closely following behind. The two became inseparable year after year, the ill tempered dragon grew more comfortable around the company of the Silver Queen. A small memory clouded your mind, one where you had to apologize profusely to the dragonkeepers who were in charge of Vermax, receiving angry roars and scratches from him whenever forced to be separated from Meraxes. You remembered being so mad at Jace who only laughed at the situation when you explained it to him.

“It appears Vermax shares the same love I have for you, for Meraxes.” Jace had once said to you. The words stuck with you ever since, unsure how to feel or what to say. It was possibly true for a dragon to share the emotions with their dragonrider.

“She wishes for us to be married under the Seven,” you muttered, confessing what is on your mind. Lifted your head to turn to look over at Jace, “who knows what else she wishes..next she will force our children to bear names that are not suitable for Velaryons..”

Jace let out a soft laugh. The thought of your children together— makes him fill with joy, though he does not show it. “I shall agree with her,” furrowed your brows at what he had said. He continued, “our children would be Targaryens.”

“Ñuha vēzos, you are a Velaryon.”

“Not when I ascend the Iron Throne.”

He is right. Once he is crowned King, he will bear the name Targaryen, meaning your children will start bearing the name Targaryen as well. Making you remember that your firstborn would inherit the Iron Throne after Jacaerys and so would their firstborn. Even when time will pass, you still could not wrap your head around those facts,

“If it bothers you, Princess, then we can name them after dragons.” the thought of having your children be named “Balerion” or “Vermithor” made you giggled. Your mind no longer remembering your anger towards Alicent but now you were ecstatic and in a good mood— all because of your future husband.

“Even if you had forgotten about your husbandly duties,” you turned your body away from the window and moved towards Jace, “you were able to help me forget all about my troubles.” you sat on the couch and moved closer to him.

“Thank you.” you whispered into his ear. Jace gently held onto your arms and wrapped them over his shoulders for you. You breathed in his scent as a way to calm your nerves. Perhaps you were wrong. In your eyes, you made the right decision in choosing Jacaerys to be your future husband, the future father to your children.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

I feel like this chapter was a little more shorter than the others😒 I’m sorry about the delays. School is rough!! I was having trouble with how the story should continue but I’m adding more and more plot cus I love this fic so much it’s like my baby right now.

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn(would not let me tag u:( @ghalakgx (would not let me tag:( @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u:( @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u:(

[sjw-publishings]

Straight A-Tension

With much guidance from the lovely @dumb-and-jocked , and influence from his story: Over here ;)

“Hey babe, promise me that after this…we will enjoy our vacation together.”

“I…I promise love, I just have to do a few more errands just to make sure.”

That conversation happened at 9pm yesterday in evening.

12:14pm, Today. Keith Gaye was supposed to meet up with his boyfriend at this very spot a quarter past noon, outside the auditorium hours before the crowd gathers for an announcement later in the day.

Of course, this would be the first time he would be talking to his boyfriend for the day. Since his lover was out and about already before he was awake, serious in completing his mission in digging up info on camp.

But even so…generally William would text him frequently while doing his undercover work. Yet despite his warm wishes and greetings, the other man went radio silent throughout the day.

“Ugh…babe where are you?”

The 25 year old long haired, lean surfer rubbed his shoulders, pushing back his blonde locks as he eyed his phone for a message from his love.

He just wanted a relaxing vacation for him and his lover. Which was why the both of them agreed on the trip to the camp retreat. With supposedly no authoritarian figures, No sticky-hard rules, and just the soft cool breeze of relaxation.

Sure…some of it was mostly fluff with the forced curfews they have on everyone, and the oddly sudden influx of ‘Hyper-Heterosexuality charged Christian Asians’ as his boyfriend describes…but perhaps there is an organised field trip for this time of the month?

And besides, its rude to assume they are all straight, maybe those men are in the closet?

Yet despite his intentions of reassuring his boyfriend and telling him, William was really insistent on uncovering the truth behind possible propaganda and the disappearances of some gay folks and couples around campus…and with his unnaturally long silence today.

What if he was right?

BEEP!

Boy friend [12:15pm]: Completed my preparations my latest speech for later. Please let me know your thoughts. Regards.

A notification popped up at the top of his phone. Fingers immediately pressing on it without delay, opening up the unused social media app he had downloaded many days prior, transporting his screen to the message and communication between him and his boy friend, William Wagner.

…

Mr Wallace Wong, Professor at Christening University.

Shaking his head, as he blinked his eyes rapidly at the name at the top of the message list. Keith felt cold sweat forming on his sun-kissed tanned skin, floral shirt lining with light moisture from the heat as he stood crossed legged in his sandals and board shorts..

Mr Wallace Wong? S…Surely it must be some phone glitch, though its not surprising since as Humblr is still a relatively new app. Though it still felt odd that it appeared out of the blue very recently.

Not to mention how his older boy friend would prefer him to use other kinds of social media to communicate…no that’s not right. His older mentor would refuse to use those kinds of ‘strange applications’ due to them not promoting HIS diversity…No wait. It was the school’s motto of diversity, that was what it was all about with that teach!

“So not diverse….”

The surfer scowled, rolling his eyes as he remembered the old fashioned professor and his continual lectures towards him ever since he stepped foot on campus.

He wanted to set off and find a cute twink to date, but every time the teacher would stop his ‘FOOLING AROUND’ and drag the other man away to detention. All he wanted was just to relax with a cute guy ! He could’ve sworn he had one, but clearly with the professor sticking to him like glue…that proved otherwise.

Whatever, today was the last day that old fossil hounded him on his vacation. No more ‘youngsters and their social media apps!’ when he himself is using Humblr like his ‘Straight A sons’ as he so proudly boasts all day.

He might as well humour the older male for once, tapping on the video sent below the overly professional message.

[Video processing]

As the video began to load, he was greeted by a auto-generated Half-Body thumbnail of the Professor. Presumably seated on a low-rising chair with his hand clasped on a table in front. Blank White background behind him, removing any other distractions to someone else.

It looked like one of those adverts from VideoTube, where a stereotypical asian tries to sell him something, make a dad joke, or promote the ‘brand new family-oriented social media app, Humblr!’

Which was not surprising, considering the nature of the professor…though he had to admit, he hadn’t had a good look at the man. Especially without his suit jacket, an above average build…straining against his white plain buttoned down tee, but without his usual necktie.

Carbon copy to many other teachers and church-going students of his kind, yet with tight, strong…strapping strong muscles. With a fierce forceful jawline to accommodate his harsh, remorseless tactics.

Complimenting his neatly trimmed and gently gelled cut in every year book, alongside those professionally prescribed spectacles over his dangerously thin lenses, a visage of an authoritarian man in complete control.

Keith generally topped…but dude, for some reason his pouch is really disagreeing with his previous biases and hatred towards the married man, how did he not realise how good-looking this bastard was?

Drool escaping his lips, as he starred blankly at the thumbnail of the prof, the small buffering spiral of circles glueing him to the screen. Left hand holding the phone, the right began churning his not so relaxed pouch, as fainter, subtile sentences flashed across the screen.

Activating School’s Hetwork…

Turning On RedTooth signals…

Accepting Admin position…

Keith didn’t understood what any of that meant, neither did he notice a certain wall mounted, television monitor turning by itself.

Hovering above eye level in front of him, as it began to buffer the same screen on his phone, before his mobile device goes completely blank, except the following words.

[Please direct your attention to the monitor above]

“Straight”

A single word, echoing from the speakers.

Straight…looking straight into the monitor. The professor in a much larger screen. His back straight as ever, as if it refused to be hunched in order to maintain its clean-cut.

Just a single word…already causing Keith’s chill-rod to POKE violently. Such boring, unsexy nerdy tension…getting this surfer dude all fiery down below.

He had no idea how this professor has such a hold on him…how he keeps coming back to him…How he physically and subconsciously listens to his suggestions, rolling his shoulders back out of a hunch, straightening his back as much as a gay man.

A lot of ‘straight’ tension poking out, wanting to get in bed with him so badly, but he was just barely out of the closet…after all the teacher always demanded things straight out of him…

Wait a sec…Wasn’t he out of-

“A-TENSION!”

A heavy bark sounded all around him, drilling into his ears from the speakers above as like a proud military man on duty. Like a direct command, eyes instinctively darting to the television hovering above. Left hand was raised into a salute, immediately dropping his phone…which fell to the ground.

He didn’t know why he obeyed the order so suddenly, much less from the incredibly hot man that he hate-admired so much!

“Men, with your level of qualifications you have been selected to be a part of our disciplinarian program.”

Disciplinarian program?

Wait…! He didn’t sign up for this! Sure he may have had extremely conflicted feelings for the older male…ever since he saw him in college? But No…that was not right, what does a lean chill surfer like him have to do in college?

But then again, he hadn’t surfed in forever, his very faint tan. Sure he was much older than most folks at the age of 27. But he had to focus on his scholarship…Adjusting his light blue short-sleeved buttoned down below and beige khakis, shifting about in his loafers as he remembered getting that, scholarship, but only a single one!

He had still worked out, but with less time he had to be efficient and dive in his studies. Though oddly enough, he his muscles were generally far more relaxed than how tense they are now. Nice buildup though over the years.

Overall he tried to keep his cool despite everything, but he had to admit…he did appreciate the tough love from his teachers and pushed on, securing his spot, though just barely.

Perhaps that was why they eventually introduced him to Mr Wong? Who recommended that he should be part of the program?

“Life’s full of collaboration with our fellow brothers, but with a little competition to incite our nature to do better…”

He had to admit, it felt good overtaking his entire class without fail. Yes he might be ‘cool’ at times, but he was a complete monster at his studies.

He a scholarship to maintain, a single aka Uni one…wait Uni? Yeah he graduated from University after all! Aced his scholarship without fail, full on focused and graduated at the age of 29.

Though it did feel odd why he finished school so late, he did have the results to show for it. Especially on his arms which really looked good despite his plain white long-sleeved buttoned down.

His figure definitely looked good at the end of all of it. And if he could unravel the dark grey dress pants he was wearing, most certainly a bunch of bachelors would ogle him as a result…despite the rules on campus.

Campus…oh right. Camp Christening was incredibly strict in its rules towards their students, though most of it are written in between the lines.

Perhaps this is why he wanted to participate in the program? He wanted to respect that, as dull tones of subordination rang from his polished dress shoes.

Especially with how the interview went with Mr Wong…and how much potential he saw from him despite still being a little…Queer in the edges.

Maybe it is out of familiarity…but how similar the discipline master was to the teachers’ who have changed his life is making him with to edge more!

He should felt rage the man for being overly homophobic and his jobs on how he was only a quarter Chinese…but for some reason, he doesn’t dislike the male…but rather-

“And while it is of the norm, ordinarily so to only best each other by a small margin, it nevertheless is the driving force to ensure we always remain on TOP!”

He wanted to beat the man at his own game! The 32 year old studied overtime despite his education and work in order to ensure he would eventually overtake the male.

It was in his blood after all, he was half Chinese. With a darker hair colour, a naturally tanned ethnicity and thinner eyes, it was clear that he had other stuff in his blood.

Which was why he was raised overseas, in order to adopt the culture from his grandparents yeah…the Straight A mentality passed down from generations.

And he absolutely thrived in it.

Excelling in his grades without fail, little to no distractions as he simply focused on being the TOP of his kind. Raised in such a competitive yet thriving environment, it wasn’t surprising that a man such as himself eventually followed and adopted the behaviours and culture of the men around him.

Their deceptively casual yet serious lingo, their various festivals and rules to abide by. Being a permanent resident, it was a necessity to do so, to behave like them! And especially the physical trainings of some men, and their utmost dedication to serve their country…HIS country.

“Of course, for the lucky few of you, you will join our ranks as someone of authority, just like the rest of us.”

Mr Keith smirked. Having an incredible sense of pride in his dark grey suit jacket, having succeeded in his application in becoming an educator in Camp Christening despite being a foreigner in the country.

But with how inclusive they are to asians as a whole, it was no surprise that he had succeeded in the interview. Sure the school had some policies that were a little more straight-laced, but it was nothing compared to how much it made him feel at home.

“The camp so good ah…amen.”

Though speaking of camps, it did not make sense why he had such long hair. Having serviced in his country’s military for a couple of years meant he would have to CUT it short, which is why he had shorter hair way above his neck…and having these long hair extensions on his buttoned down

Though that being said, why were they there, it felt really inappropriate for a 33 year old man such as himself. While still churning below with his right, Mr Keith released his left hand momentarily from the salute.

Being part of the teachers disciplining community meant that he had to know when to take responsibility for something out of line. As he adjusted the dark strands underneath his thicker collar, pulling it without remorse as they firmly settled into a simple sleek tie.

Likewise, he gave a few quick tugs on the area around his trim waist, before giving his rump a big-

SMACK!

As the traditional leather belt solidified around his waist. Tightening alongside his exit, for he remained on TOP and not the bottom…even during moments where he bent over and received due discipline…

It felt good, an Asian man looking like a traditional husband of the family. Sure it was quite a ‘backwards mentality’ to have all that pride and arrogance over some old fashioned values from the early past…

That people dont appreciate because they feel like its not worth appreciating. Yeah, the younger generations just simply try to force their values on traditionalists such as himself!

What utter disrespect!

They’ve simply been brainwashed by society! They are the backwards ones! Not understanding the values of going to church, being A MAN, a good self-DISCIPLINE to set an example for others.

And yes, they pointed out he might be a little taller, which might be a burden…but its nothing he can’t handle-

“Regardless, all of you will conform to our camp values and not stand out…”

Mr Keith absolutely hated how tall he was at 6ft 2, no wonder Wallace picked on him so much! But then again, it must be those new shoes he wore, he definitely was just only a few centimetres above the professor..wait no, actually he was just tip-toeing trying to scold a couple of backsliding idiots just beyond the a fence!

In reality, he was just barely a 5ft 11!

His height may be considered much taller compared to most asians. But he is within the world’s average! Besides, between him and Wallace, it is clear which of the two of them is more grounded…even if there’s a slight margin of difference between them.

“Stand up STRAIGHT!”

Speaking of differences, they were rather similar weren’t they? They were both STRAIGHT-laced authoritative men after all!

Even that student Percy Sim remarked on that and called him Mr Wong once…oh lordy, was his rump covered in red hand prints from his disciplinary spanks.

“Its Mr Kei…ang! I look like Wallace to you isit?”

Comments such as… ‘But you two share so many of the same ideas!’ And ‘Yeah Prof, you guys are basically a match made in heaven!’ Was that man trying to fail his class?!

Unacceptable!

Just because Mr. Wong and himself share similar traits, values, ideas, viewpoints, traditions, disciplines, and structures does not mean they are at all alike!

He ought to have a word with his father later…the man ought to instil more DISCIPLINE in the his son!

“Men really need not to fool around in this day and age! I swear-!”

In the HEAT of the moment thinking about discipline, one upping the other asians and potential fatherhood, he SLAMMED his fist down on the table, the force knocking over the bottles.

“OI BEHAVE!”

Can’t let distractions distract him from his duty, not when his mentor is watching him!

Matured, responsible hands hurriedly scooping up the bottles that fell on the ground. Bending over, bigger and thicker thighs rubbing against the everyday clean-cut fabric of his pants, sending the engaged man over the edge.

Doubling down his sense of duty as aged authoritarian palms SLAMMED each bottle in order on the banquet table.

All except one, gripping it tighter than ever.

“Quench your thirst, brothers…”

“Wah…stop teasing me-testing me sio!”

He had to muster his courage…muster his…master…Masters in discipline! It was simply part of the program and regimen!

Churning his compact, father-hood now with his right as he unzipped his package below. Holding the bottle on the left while he fished out his prized rifle down below.

To know when to abstain…and when to multiply.

Cupping his long weapon, compacting it with a firm fatherly GRIP! Mandarin oranges below swelled in experience, complimenting his rod of average length yet prominent girth. Their prominent hardness tells him only one thing.

This is when he has to multiply…

“With thoughts of your lovely wife.”

“Walao Ehh!!!”

Lovely wife? A husband? HIM? Wasn’t he g…GHEY? HEY! NO WAY! He was straight! No wonder he followed those rules flawless, he was one of them! One with his kind!

Shoulders APART! His broad chest and back filling out his suit like a real Patriarch. Thick and prominent neck built for loud shouts and disciplinary commands across campus!

It was the way it was expected from a traditional man like him! Which was no surprise that equally conservative women liked it! A Man that can produce REAL discipline, especially in the bedroom.

But that being said, that didn’t mean the 38 year old Mr Kei-ang was married! Sure he was looking for a g…J…Janet, and loved that random chi…his lovely girlfriend. He wanted to BE a husband. HER HUSBAND! Which is why he had a ring on his ring digit!

LIKE HIS WIFE’S!

He…HE IS A HUSBAND! Her husband! Marrying her with her all those years back! It was a big deal for the whole family! A fellow patriarch and matriarch getting together in holy matrimony, and not to mention the incredible time they had in bed…full of disciplinary action…especially towards him.

“Ohhh lordy…”

“Remember our logo, brethren…as you complete your fellowship.”

“A…A-MEN!”

His nostrils flared, yet properly angular as his ordinarily good-looks remained unscarred. Unpierced smaller, average sized ear-lobes cause What? He gay isit? Only women do that! Refusing any semblance of understanding as to why would some men do that!

He understands Asian-diversity…but It contradicts his traditional beliefs! With that, retreating back to his skull were lengths and lengths of overly long hair, leaving the sides and back shaved and the top a simple side cut like his fellow educators. Simple, strict and orderly! The way he always presented himself, the way the board of education demands of him, the way him and his wife likes it!

Eyes barely widening, glued to his narrow minded views as he stuck to the broadcast with proper arrogance..licking his thin lips, rising to a malevolent surrounded by aftershave of a manly jaw. Reserved for scolding of asian-kind…and the kissing of his dear ol wife.

Taking a deep breath alongside the recording of Wallace, ready to HUFF N PUFF AND-

“SHOUT OUR SLOGAN MEN, STRAIGHT-.”

“A-TENSION!”

Mr Gareth Kang, the Singaporean disciplinary master came at full force, firing his throbbing rifle without restraint, setting loose thick wads of goo deep into the empty bottle without reservation.

Giving a few quick whacks to his fatherhood, he stuffed his shorter, thicker member back in suit pants and zipped it up. Dusting his jacket as glared around suspiciously, giving his bottle a good firm SHAKE! Before sliding in his bottle with the rest of the unfinished batch.

He’d make a gentle reminder to his juniors to fill up the rest of the ‘non-bubbling’ ones, as he smirkingly eyed his noble prized solution hidden within the batch, looking forward to meeting the lucky fellow that joins his fellow disciplinary masters in due time.

But for now…he has a very special, yet short meetup with his supervisor, as the slightly older man arrived on the dot of the hour.

“Wah…good speech Wallace.”

“Hmph don’t patronise me Gareth, you know its simply a textbook order for our future recruits to behave.”

And indeed it was, clean-cut and straight to the point, the kind of standard the 41 year old lives and breathes by.

They needed to hire people whose both an expert enforcers in disciplinary measures, yet knows how to live by those standards he himself sets. Which was no surprise Mr Gareth Kang, former army sergeant and 10 year disciplinarian, became part of the team.

With completely no-nonsense approach, feared and respected by colleagues and students alike. It was all part of his training, to discipline others the way he would like to be disciplined.

Even towards his superior, who expected nothing less from him.

“Sure sure Wallace, almost Late, video sent 12:15pm.”

“Incorrect, I have already sent you a copy of my preliminary speech, an hour earlier.”

Wallace pointed to the mobile device on the ground.

While Gareth did use a laptop, he saw no point in having a modern phone when his Brick one had been fine for centuries. It was such a waste of money! His older model could be thrown without cracking!

He only had this new phone due to the school’s insistence of giving him one. It was supposedly an older model, but still felt too new for his tastes. Not to mention how easily its screen cracked after a single throw at a rebellious student…

Sliding open the phone, now clearly seeing the red notification in his email, next to the Humblr and Calculator App. Strange, He could’ve sworn some fool downloaded many more useless applications prior, clouding the entire screen.

He just might have to question his sons about it…but regardless, as Mr Wong mentioned opening the app, was the video.

“As your supervisor, I thought you might have wanted to inspect it much sooner…being my RIGHT-hand man.”

Mr Gareth Kang smirked.

Indeed, they might have a heated rivalry, but they were both men. Brothers in arms and in the church. Colleagues who are extremely close and identical in terms of methods, teachings and background.

Which was no surprise that they easily figured out what makes the other reach maximum productivity, as they continued to aid one another through the most simplest of gestures.

Even a no-nonsense man like him felt that it was endearing.

“Wah, so kind of you!”

“Respect your elders, Gareth, a considerable distance in public.”

“Of Course, Wallace.”

Moving away from his superior. They were only a year apart, but he understood and respected the fella despite their un-spoken rivalry.

That being said, a man like him definitely knows how to subtly skirt the rules to his advantage, just like how he got with his wife.

Knowing how to get under the everyone’s skin! Both literally and figuratively. Every member of the Kang family had their expertise, and discipline was his. That was his calling, and why people kept calling him for his duties.

“Thought you sent it to a different Mr Kang...”

“Hmph…A Man like me wouldn’t be so careless to leak out confidential information!”

Bickering, comparing their fruitful endeavours throughout the morning with utter aggression mixed with respect. It was another routine between the two men, as their heated discussion trailed onto their commitments, their utmost dedication to their students, sunday gatherings, and how great their wives and family are.

Neither of them would admit it, but the two of them were essentially the same.

Knowing how to really appreciate the most ordinary of things while enforcing strict discipline in maintaining the generational tradition.

Indeed, which is why they always riled the other up, keeping the other scoffing beneath their attire without mercy as they selfishly withheld their A-MEN card in every topic, threading between the thin lines of respect and competition.

Arguing despite seeing eye to eye with the other, just so they will have a private game of pure straights…

“Mahjong, this Saturday weekend, in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Make it evening, Janet and the kids are visiting the grandparents in the morning.”

The two men shake hands vigorously, professional…yet with utmost fire as they smirked at each other cunningly, seeing eye to eye in their respective mirrors. Ready to one up the other without fault.

Unlike some of his more outgoing colleagues of other tribes, Mr Kang intends on pulling no stops to his fiercest rival in the workplace, something…while silent, is simply what both of them desire from the other.

A fierce authoritarian battle, between two asian men.

Releasing their firm handshake, they parted their ways, walking in opposite directions. They have their own respective tasks before the announcement later, being the main two authorities in charge of it.

There is much more discipline to be done, a bunch of students to be yelled at and ordered to be in attendance at the auditorium, and many more bottles to be prepared.

Why were there so little bottles prepared ah? He ought to cane the fella who he put in charge of this…give him a good whack behind…wait! Whacking! Wah…He almost forgot!

“Oi!”

Calling out to his authoritarian in crime, he had remembered that he had left the most important thing back in their previous venue!

Punishment for insubordination in losing the mahjong game…and a necessary tool in order to ensure maximum production and discipline for their cause.

Whipping men into shape, something neither got tired off regardless of whether they are on the giving, or receiving end. In which both Mr Gareth Kang and Mr Wallace Wong would be more than happy to give at a moment’s notice.

After all, a man can only enforce as much as he receives…

“Bring the belts Ah!”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

𝕺𝖓𝖑𝖞 𝕼𝖚𝖊𝖊𝖓

𝖆𝖑𝖎𝖈𝖊𝖓𝖙 𝖍𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

ʲᵘˢᵗ ᵃ ˡⁱˡ ᵈʳᵃᵇᵇˡᵉ :⁾

Alicent stared. Her rage was unwavering. "Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It's trampled under your pretty foot again." "Release the blade, Alicent." Rhaenyra ordered, status seeping through her tone until it slapped against Alicent's face. "And now you take my son's eye, and to even that, you feel entitled." "Exhausting, wasn't it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." Rhaenyra leaned further, throat constricting at the pain she refused to affect her. She whispered. "But now they see you as you are." Alicent looked down to find her dagger lodged deep into her once friend's arm. She dropped it as though possessed. A sea of her people watched in horror as the heir became swarmed. Judging stares threw into her. She stood alone, cold air finally pushing against her. She glanced about her wildly until a familiar warmth stole her hand, tugging her backward. Her neck turned in fear only to ease as Y/n's gentle face softened at her. Y/n's free hand rose to her Queen's face, she stroked it gently. Alicent took her own to press it further into her cheek. For a moment, she thought that if her lover let go, she would fall to the ground. "You're okay." They assured, kissing her forehead. Once everybody had finally filtered away, she dropped to the floor. Y/n took the dagger from the floor and wiped it against the fabrics of her dress. They slipped it into Daemon Targaryen's hands while he watched curiously. When they returned to Alicent's shocked figure, they proceeded the action with Alicent's hands – wiping away the blood she had spilt. Alicent gripped Y/n's body tightly and breathed them in like oxygen in an apocalypse.

Y/n drifted deft fingers against Alicent's back, unlacing her dress. "You should have left me." Alicent spoke, voice breaking as she hesitantly turned her head to look back at them. "I can restore my own wreckage." Y/n stopped. A minute passed in silence save for the crackling fire. "And I can atone for my love." Alicent scoffed at them. "So you agree with her?" She couldn't say her name, she refused. "I heard of your indecision and preference for safety among both Queens but I did not believe in your slyness before tonight." "I believe that your son deserves justice but claiming a small boy's eye before court is not where your mind must lie, it will only endagner you, my love." They pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder. Alicent didn't breathe, she didn't even blink until two soft hands cupped her face once more. Y/n had since moved before her now. Alicent closed her eyes in reflex, melting in her lover's hands. She felt like a child again, brief safety was all she hoped for. "Please..." She murmured quietly as Y/n shed Alicent's bloodied gown. She hated the cold when Y/n left to bring her a nightgown. Alicent halted them, clutching their hand and tugging it close. She opened her eyes. Her lip wobbled against her will. She hated her own vulnerability. It only made for her suffering. She swallowed. "If you spend this night with me." She started. "I want you to know that you are pledging to me your loyalty. If I see you anywhere close to Rhaenyra without my presence, it will be more than treason to my heart."

"You are my only Queen, your grace."

[https-furina]

✎ saints.

ft. raiden shogun/ei & scaramouche.

content: angst, spoilers for ‘inversion of genesis’ interlude chapter act iii (sumeru’s interlude) as it’s heavily based on scara’s lore, mother/son relationship, parent trauma, insinuating that raiden and scara meet, not proofread

w.c: 1.5k words

notes: this is my first individual work omg (and it’s scara angst oops.) it’s based on saints by echos which is one of my favourite songs <3 i added the specific lyrics that i associate with them both!

rain has always been prevalent in inazuma, she thinks as she watches the downpour from beneath her parasol. the grass below her feet is glittering, raindrops mirroring the moon’s glow. thunder roars overhead followed by a crack of lightning that illuminates narukami island. her gaze falls on the shadowed outline of tenshukaku. she considers it an honourable place to reside, to hide her face from the population of inazuma. somewhere that she can meditate in the plane of euthymia with little distraction but what is honour in the face of her sins? her crimes?

the raiden shogun. her own title brings a lump to her throat. another crack of lightning brightens the night sky and ei looks to the sky in a feat of hopelessness. she feels anything but the electro archon at that moment. she feels like timid, her actions outweighing the exalted front she puts on around others. the sakoku decree, the vision hunt decree, the plane of euthymia… what exactly was she hoping for? eternity, of course but who’s eternity? it was surely not those of her people. ei’s cold hand grips the handle of her parasol, the soft pitter patter of the rain landing above her echoing in her silence. would it be wrong to admit a fear of eroding as if she could prevent it? yae miko would laugh in her face right now.

the silence surrounding ei shifted. it was not broken nor interrupted but the air was tense, horrid and hugging at her vulnerable fate as if she was being tortured. glancing to her right, further along the cliff a flash of lightning illuminated another human form. she blinked. was she to feel relief and joy? or perhaps she should feel anger that he should be here in her home - her own country? her knuckles turned white from the grip on the parasol’s handle, taking in a sharp breath that stings her lungs.

“so you return to inazuma once more,” her voice cuts the silence, authoritative as ever, “have you come to mock me?”

she hears it faintly over the storm, his sickly laugh at her words. he lifts his head, indigo eyes meeting hers. he hasn’t changed a bit from the last time she saw him, she refuses to spend another second considering how much he mirrors her, how much he resembles her in the slightest. her ideals for her puppet did not wander far after his creation.

“it’s only fair i get a free pass to mock you after all these years, mother.” he’s full of spite and anger, ei believes he is rightfully entitled to those emotions. there’s venom dripping on his tongue as he mockingly calls her mother but ei is quick to scoff, turning back to her view of inazuma city as if he wasn’t there.

acting as if he didn’t exist again? scaramouche snides mentally, his arms folded against his chest. she looks pathetic, standing under a lilac decorated parasol on a random cliff on narukami island. he hadn’t expected to find her here when he tracked her down, a thousand words caught in his throat as he takes in her braid, her eyes that remain the same colour as his own. for a moment, their uncanny resemblances sparks more fire inside of him. more anger, loathing, anything.

“kunikuzushi,” his name - his true name - rolls off her tongue and catches him off guard. it seems she said to herself, however, “you’d be bold to assume i’ve not known of your actions within inazuma.”

scaramouche scoffs. how dare she even utter his name after abandoning him as she did; and to bring up his crimes? months - no, years of preparing himself for this confrontation could not have presumed the audacity she would have in his presence to act coy.

“let me guess,” scaramouche drums the pads of his fingertips on his bare upper arms, mildly damp from the humidity of inazuma’s storms, “you had that fox-”

“her name is miko and you’d be wise to remember it,” her voice snaps. she’s looking in his direction again and he can see the harsh glow of her eyes, “of course. she’s been watching you since i left you.”

he finds it amusing that a god could be angered over something so trivial. she is not as powerful here as she pretends and unfortunately, ei is aware. she is aware that here, she is his creator. she is not the electro archon, she is not beezlebul. she is his mother. ei gave him life, a body despite being something she considered a mere puppet.

“i had the awful opportunity of running into her while you were doing the thing you always do, avoiding reality.” scaramouche takes a step towards her. he does not know what willed him to take such an action, catching the pair off guard as the air is filled with that interrupted silence ei was appreciating before he made his presence known.

“i gave you life when i could have discarded you like an unwanted carcass and yet i hear instead that you’ve been running fatui operations within my country, your home,” ei spits, jarring but nonetheless honest of her true emotions, “to them you may be a harbinger but you are no more than another citizen of inazuma.”

you were standing there like an angry god counting out my sins just to cross them off saying that my tongue was too loud to trust and that my blood couldn’t keep you.

scaramouche scowls at her words, biting his tongue as his nails dig into the palms of his hands. the feeling stings, almost pressuring blood out of the pale skin of his hands but he releases his angered grip before he does so. his tongue pokes the soft inner of his cheek, a vexed smile curling his lips as he stares out at inazuma city in disbelief.

“you have the nerve to stand here and talk about me? as if you are not an archon that abandoned her son, her country? and for what reason? because you are too scared to erode from a title you don’t even want,” he mirrors her venom and ei hears it as clear as day over the thunderous roars above them, “you hid in your damn plane of euthymia with no contact, letting some puppet that runs on rules and laws govern your country while your people believe it is you, their oh mighty electro archon.”

ei doesn’t open her mouth to speak. she doesn’t have the words to snap back at him. her authority is crumbling before her very eyes, in front of her son - no, he’s a puppet. she sneers, lowering her gaze from his face as she takes in his attire. was she just to stand here and take such insolence from someone, something so unimportant to her?

“ah, has the raiden shogun been taken down a knotch?” scaramouche scoffs, letting out another sickly laugh at his mother’s face, “who do you think you’re fooling? celestia? you stand here counting my sins on one hand like you are better than me; what can i say? the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

my dear, you’re not so innocent you’re fooling heaven’s gates so you won’t have to change you’re no saint, you’re no saviour.

ei takes in a sharp breath once more, the cool air of inazuma is harsh on her throat, her lungs and her mind. in the moment of her downfall, she hopes that he got what he wanted; to humiliate her, mock her, make her feel bitter. bitter like the taste on her tongue as her brows knit together and she throws the parasol down to the wet mud at her feet. scaramouche watched in amusement, reeling in the view of being able to torment her for what she did. yet it would never be enough, he would do it again and again and again until it drove her mad. scaramouche was determined to cause hell for her betrayal to her own son, to whom she deems so disposable.

“enough. get out of my face.” the words leave her mouth before she has the thought to consider them, unsympathetic to the way scaramouche’s face softens at her dictatorial turn once more. it bites at him, chewing and pulling at his flesh and organs and makes him scrap the thoughts he’d had seconds ago. so he truly was nothing to her? another face to order around as if she wasn’t the reason his feet wandered teyvat so hopelessly, so ruthlessly. as if it wasn’t ei’s fault that he’d been betrayed by so many, including herself.

so keep your judgement for someone else, i’ve had enough.

by the time the sun paints the sky in hues of oranges, pinks and reds, the cliff is empty once more. the storm has passed, the dark clouds rolling away as a blue sky blankets inazuma in comfort and peace. nature crawls out from its hiding places, chirping and filling the silence with its noise. the people of inazuma would never know what happened that night on a random cliff, drowned out by the downpour.

they would never see the scene of a god and her puppet; a mother and her son.

© https-heizou 2023.

[angelasscribbles]

The Crown and the Shield Chapter 5: Two Can Play

Series: The Crown and the Shield

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Constantine x Jackson

Word Count: 699

Rating: PG

Warnings for this chapter: None

My other stuff: Master List.

The night before the royal wedding…

“You’ve been nursing that for a while. Wanna talk about whatever it is?”

Jackson glanced up to find an attractive young woman with dark hair and amber eyes smiling at him.

“Not really,” he turned back to his whiskey.

“Rude.” She took the bar stool next to him anyway, “You could at least tell me your name.”

With a resigned sigh he turned back to face her, “You’re not going to stop talking until I do, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she laughed, “You clearly need cheering up and I’m bored so make this easy on yourself and just let me have it.”

He snorted with frustrated amusement as he extended his hand, “Fine. Jackson Walker, at your service.”

She took it with a triumphant grin, “Bianca Throckmorton, at yours.”

“You’re American?” He guessed correctly. Throckmorton. That must make her the daughter of United States Senator Franklin Throckmorton. He spent enough time as Constantine’s primary guard to recognize all the important players.

“Yes,” she laughed, “Here with my father for the royal wedding. Thinking about staying for the summer.”

Ah, yes, the royal wedding. The source of his current misery. He had to suffer through his lover’s marriage to another for a second time.

It was too much. Constantine was asking too much of him. “I need another drink. Want one?”

Two hours and an indeterminate number of drinks later, he found himself enjoying her company. Or maybe it was the combination of liquor and heartbreak that drove him into her arms. Either way, after one last bitter glance at Constantine and Eleanor wrapped up with each other on the dance floor, he stumbled out of the ballroom with her.

Three months later….

Constantine pulled at his own hair in anguish, “Jack, no! You can’t marry her!”

“Why can’t I, Connie? You’re married!”

“That’s different!”

“Not fucking really.”

“What about us? This will make it even harder to-“

“I told you she’s pregnant, Connie! I grew up without a father, I can’t do that to my own child!”

“You can be there for the child without marrying the mother!”

“You married Eleanor for Leo’s sake! How can you expect me to do less for my own child?”

“But she was going to leave if I didn’t! She was going to go home to Auvernall!”

“And Bianca will go home to America at the end of the summer if I don’t propose!”

“Have you even considered what marrying her will do to us?”

Jackson spun on him in fury, “How fucking dare you!”

“Wha-“

“You have a wife and a child with another on the way! You would deny me the same chance to have a family of my own?”

“It’s not the same thing at all!”

“How is it different?” Jackson demanded.

“You know why I had to-“

“I do know but I also know that every night you sleep next to your wife and son while I sleep alone! I’m lonely, Connie!”

“So am I! Trust me, being married to someone you don’t love is worse than being alone!”

“It can’t be,” he shook his head, “I don’t believe you and besides, I do love her, not like I love you, but I love her. She’s been there for me. And she wants me…that’s enough for me.”

Constantine staggered under the weight of those words. I do love her. He shook his head in denial, refusing to believe it. “You love me!”

Jackson stepped into him, cupping his face between his hands, “I do love you! You’re my fucking heart! But she’s carrying my child. I thought you, of all people, would understand. Support me in this, just as I’ve always supported you!”

Constantine stared back into the eyes of the man he loved as his sense of logic and fairness warred with the grief that threatened to pull him under.

Now he understood exactly what he had put Jackson through, not once, but twice.

He blinked back his tears, sucked in a shaky breath, and nodded.

“Thank you,” Jackson whispered before drawing him closer and placing a lingering kiss on his lips.

Then he spun on his heel and was gone.

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9 Ep 91: Waffles in the Park

Noemi had a fine time with Luigi’s folks, but she was much more nervous about introducing her new boyfriend and baby-daddy-to-be to her parents.

They had talked about traveling to The Ridge before she got pregnant but could never find the time. Now that they were “on the clock”, Luigi hunted for a place to meet them nearby, and was delighted when he discovered that his favorite waffle chef would be at the café in Myshuno Meadows soon.

Noemi’s parents had been divorced for ages and she was sure they would behave well together in a public setting. At least as well as they ever did.

She met her mother’s judgmental comment about her extra curves with a forced smile, as Luigi tried and failed to set her father at ease with a joke.

They did much better when they traded off.

After Gilbert’s gruff rebuff of his humor, Luigi greeted her mom in a much more reserved and formal way. She made a big deal about complimenting her daughter’s “charming and handsome young man”, helped along no doubt by the opportunity to show herself as friendlier than her ex.

Likewise, Gilbert hadn’t failed to notice his daughter tense up after Shannon sniped at her and swept his baby girl into a big protective hug.

As Luigi led Shannon over to Anderson and talked up the chef’s “Waffles with Love and Hershey’s Kisses”, Gilbert and Noemi hung back and caught up. Luigi greeted their chef like an old friend. They’d met a few times now as Luigi made a point of swinging by whenever the other sim setup shop in the city or near campus. 

Anderson smiled when Luigi gushed that he’d been looking forward to his delicious waffles for days, telling him he hoped they lived up to his expectations!

Once they had all settled at the table with their fresh meals, Luigi placed a hand on Noemi’s thigh under the table in a gesture of solidarity. She had asked to be the one to broach the topic with her folks, and she gave his hand a grateful squeeze before announcing:

“Dad, Mom? I have some big news. We weren’t expecting it, but we’re having a baby. I’m due shortly after graduation.”

Shannon spoke first, “Well, I guess no “little surprises” was an unappreciated perk of the geriatric lesbian you were with before this.” Noemi blinked back tears as her dad gave his ex-wife a dirty look before turning to Luigi. “You planning to stick around and treat my little girl right son?”

Luigi only got as far as “Of course, we…” before Noemi cut him off: “are taking things one step at a time. Right now, that means focusing on graduation.”

Noemi’s mom rose, her plate half eaten. “I’m not going to sit here and cheer you on as you bumble into another reckless relationship. How long have you known this guy? You’re just going to end up leaving more whiny voicemails about the latest loveless marriage you jump into and refuse to leave.”

“Nice, real nice!” Luigi shot back, unable to hold his tongue. “Your daughter is caring and dedicated, and some of us love her for that. If you can’t bear to show a little respect for her or the dead, then don’t worry, nobody will be calling to burden you. We’ll be better off without your hurtful comments.”

Gilbert gave Luigi an amused smile and fatherly shoulder squeeze before wandering off the porch, heading in his ex’s direction.

Noemi buried her head in her hands over her plate. “Ooof. Mom does care; she just has a really hard time dealing with surprises and being pleasant to family. Dad will probably talk her into leaving an apology voicemail before we get home. He was always the best at dealing with her, even after he decided he didn’t want to deal with her full-time anymore.”

Luigi leaned in and gave her a kiss on the top of her head, before sitting back down and popping another forkful of waffle into his mouth.

“Well, it wasn’t the most successful lunch in history, but we got the job done, and in record time!” She laughed and picked up her own fork. “True! I was wishing it would be over quick, and here we are free to finish this lovely meal in peace.”

The pair did just that before tossing their trash and deciding to take advantage of the beautiful day with a relaxing stroll through the park.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[sirowsky-stories]

Like Father, Like Son

Sirowsky's 600 & 700 Followers Celebration

Submitted by @yourstrulylightstar283 Prompt #5: Why are you covered in sparkly pink dust? Character: Dieter Bravo

Rating: Teen Warnings: Dieter Bravo x Original Female Character Gabriela, plus his son Mateo. Pure fluff! (I haven't seen the movie, so this is a lose interpretation of the character. Also, this fic is not overtly Halloween themed.) Word Count: 650 Masterlist of the Celebration Sirowsky's Main Masterlist

   He’s supposed to be watching his wife’s niece being celebrated, he knows that. It’s her Quinceañera. But when his beloved Gabriela is wearing a gorgeous summer dress, sitting in the bright sun with her tanned skin glistening from the heat and her dark curls falling protectively over her bare shoulders, he really can’t be blamed for having trouble looking at anything but her.

   He had never imagined that he could have this. That someone like her, who is well educated, who owns her own business, who has friends in all the highest places, this woman who could have anyone in the world, would have chosen him.    The life he’d led up until the point they’d met hadn’t been bad. Not at all. He’d chosen to live exactly as he’d wanted, refusing to apologize for the pleasures he’d enjoyed or the overall chaos that he’d seemed to thrive so effortlessly in.

   But in Gabi, he’d discovered so many new things, so many wonderful layers of life that he’d never thought existed outside of the silver screen. And suddenly, all the things that had always seemed so important had faded into the background, making room for all this instead.    Family and friendships that last and can be depended on. People he can trust completely.

   “Hey, Dee,” a voice whispers in his ear, and he recognizes it as his brother-in-law before he’s even turned around. “Mateo needs you.”

   “Is he okay?” Dieter asks, immediately concerned.

   “Yeah, just come with me.”

   The man leads him into the house where the younger kids are being prepared to take part in a surprise dance routine to delight the girl of the day, and where Dee’s three-year-old son is practicing his twirling skills.    He walks up to the boy and kneels in front of him, finding the kid smiling and giggling, so at least there really isn’t anything wrong.

   “What’s going on, mijo?” he asks, smiling along as Mateo’s joy infects him.

   But instead of answering, the boy puts his arms out in front of his chest, with his little fists closed and upturned, as if preparing to hand his father something.

   “What do you have there?” Dieter inquires with a playful tone, and the kid giggles even harder as he opens his hands and blows hard at them.

   A cloud of pink glitter hits his father in the face, over the shoulders and down his chest, and the boy collapses in a laughing fit.

   “Ay, mijo…” Dee smiles after blinking the worst of it out of his eyes. “Do I look pretty?” he asks then, and Mateo nods while still rolling on the floor, pleased with himself for this flawless execution of a glitter prank.

   He leans over the boy and shakes his clothes to share the sparkling goodness, earning even more laughter in return, before his mother-in-law calls for Mateo to come back to the group and get ready, because they’re about to give the birthday girl her surprise.

   “I love you, mijo,” Dieter says, hugging his son before he runs off to join the others.

   He throws his father a kiss as he falls into their ranks, and it feels as though his heart might crack open right there where he stands, as his love for this child overflows once more.    Returning outside so that he won’t miss the performance, he takes a seat next to Gabi, who chuckles warmly at the sight of her husband.

   “Why are you covered in sparkly pink dust?” she asks in a hushed voice, and he smiles.

   “Because our son is the sweetest little boy there is, my love.”

   She just hums at that, but when the children emerge from the house, succeeding in surprising the birthday girl who squeals in excitement, and Gabriela sees that her son is covered in the same stuff, she laughs and lovingly shakes her head.

   “Those are my boys, alright.”

THE END

Thank you @yourstrulylightstar283 for helping me celebrate, and I hope that this is at least something like what you imagined. I tried not to go into specifics about the Quinceanera since I don't know what it entails, and chose to focus on Dieter instead :)

@pedrostories @harriedandharassed

[torscrawls]

Out of the Loop ch.2

Wordcount: 2,801

Can be read on AO3!

--

When lunch rolled around fifteen minutes later Wes had come to three conclusions.

One. People here thought that ghosts were real. He was unsure if this was because of a huge misunderstanding, a result of mass hallucination, or if Wes had actually managed to stumble upon the only town in the US where people were more into conspiracies than he was. Or maybe it was only a result of poisoned lunches.

Two. The Guys in White were the people behind the security cameras that were everywhere in the school. Everyone seemed to fear them. No one would tell him what they wanted. This couldn’t be legal, right?

Three. Bathroom-boy’s name was Daniel Fenton, called Danny. Or Fenturd, Fentonail, and a variety of other increasingly absurd and childish nicknames if you asked the jocks. Son to the local ghost hunters, best friends with Sam Manson and Tucker Foley, and a huge nerd.

So far he hadn’t been able to combine all three into a configuration that made sense—did Danny work for the GIW? Was the school a test-sight for a government led drug program? Was Danny working for the GIW? Or the supposed ghosts? Who even is the GIW?—and his confusion wasn’t helped by everyone refusing to answer his questions.

Wes stumbled out of the classroom and tried to decide on where to go now, who was most likely to give him some information.

He saw Danny, Sam, and Tucker huddling further down the corridor. Tucker was gesticulating wildly and Sam was nodding along as Danny laughed and shook his head.

Before he had the chance to approach them and get some answers, he was intercepted by Star and several of the more popular students in his class.

“As you know, my name is Star.” She gestured at the people next to her. “This is Paulina, Kwan and Dash.”

Wes noted that the last jock was the one who had tripped Danny when he got back into the classroom earlier.

Dash gave him a once-over before giving a short nod. “You might do. You play any sports?”

“Basket.”

Dash shrugged. “Not football, but good enough.”

“You wanna eat lunch with us?” Kwan asked with a big smile.

Wes sent the trio down the corridor another look, but Star was still the only one who had given Wes any kind of information, however little that might be, so he nodded and decided to try his luck with them first.

As they sat down at a table Wes stared at his lunch with suspicion. He really hoped it wasn’t drugged, even though that would explain a lot.

Star sipped her drink and said, “Okay, so. Here’s the deal.” She placed her hands on the table in front of her and leaned in towards Wes. “We have to be a bit careful when we talk since…” she paused and raised one eyebrow, eyes shifting to one of the security cameras on the walls, “the ghosts can listen in.”

Oh, so they were talking around the issue. That was no problem; Wes was good at reading between the lines. He would make sure the ghosts didn’t find out anything! “Of course.” He winked.

Star pressed her lips together as a furrow appeared between her brows.

Paulina leaned in and causally asked, “You know about ghosts?”

Wes pursed his lips in thought. “I know they’re dead people?”

Paulina shook her head and then said, in an overly enunciated way that Wes had never heard her use before, punctuating each word with a jab of her fork.  “Yeah, no. They're not people. They're monsters.”

“Oh,” Wes blinked. “I thought the whole idea of ghosts was based on the fact that they'd been humans?”

Paulina and Star exchanged a glance before Paulina shook her head. “No. They're all just bad. No personality. No emotions.” She raised her eyebrows and gave Wes a meaningful look. “They are bad. Evil.”

“Okay, alright,” Wes nodded. He understood what they were trying to say; all ghosts were evil and they had no personality. Finally he was getting some useful information!

Kwan joined in, “They’re very much not like people.”

“Yeah, I mean, sure,” Wes agreed with a nod. “They're ghosts. They're not humans anymore.”  He understood what they were trying to say; all ghosts were evil and they had no personality. Finally he was getting some useful information!

Star paused, a small frown on her face. “Right… It's just important to know that they're all very evil.”

She placed a weird emphasis on the last few words and Wes hesitated. This must be her telling him that the last part is extra important. So ghosts are, at the very least, very evil, probably even worse than that but she couldn't explain more because of the surveillance. That had to be it.

Wes patted himself on the back for his quick thinking.

Dash jumped into the conversation with half a potato in his mouth and unnecessarily added, “Yeah, so evil. No exceptions.”

Wes frowned as something occurred to him. “But you didn’t seem to hate the guy with the white hair?”

Star blinked before sending another pointed look to the nearest surveillance camera. “Yeah, no. Of course we don’t like him. He’s a ghost.”

Wes narrowed his eyes. He felt like he might be missing something. He turned to look at one of several cameras on the wall but Kwan reached out to stop him from turning fully in his seat. Wes hesitated and then slowly asked, “Sooo… What’s up with the cameras?”

“It’s the GIW. They make sure were safe,” Paulina said with the same conviction as Wes uses against his dad when he says he’s not going to stay up past midnight reading on conspiracy-forums.

Kwan nodded. “They’re watching and listening in the school to look for… evil ghosts.”

“So who are they?”

Dash, somehow still with a potato in his mouth, said, “The GIW stands for the Guys In White.”

Star smacked his shoulder. “It stands for the Ghost Investigation Ward, idiot.”

“I knew that!” Dash exclaimed in outrage.

Wes nodded. “Ah. So they are a group of ghosts that investigate things, got it.”

Star blinked. “Eh?”

Kwan snorted. “No, man, they investigate ghosts.”

“Oh,” Wes blushed. “Of course. Yes.”

“And hunt them,” Paulina added with badly concealed disdain, “Don’t forget the hunting part.”

“They hunt ghosts?” Wes asked as he finally started on his lunch to try and hide his red face. “Like, for real?”

“Yeah,” Star said before rolling her eyes and sarcastically saying, “Someone has to keep them in check.”

Wes nodded. “Yeah, sure,” he paused. “No, wait, what? Like whacking weeds? Or pest control?”

They all stared at him as if he was crazy. Then Dash gave a slightly strained laugh. “You’re acting as if you’ve never heard of ghost hunters before, man.”

“We don’t… Really have that where I’m from?”

Star blinked and tilted her head. “But then, who fights the ghosts?”

“No one,” Wes said as he wondered what alternate reality he had landed in where he was the sensible one.

Kwan tapped his chin as he asked, "Doesn't ghosts work the same way where you're from?"

"Don't be stupid!” Dash said as he punched him in the arm. “Of course they do. Maybe they just use different words?"

“Right! So,” Kwan said and here the whole table turned to face Wes, “Who controls the ghosts that escape from the Ghost Zone? Wait. Maybe you have another word for that too. What do you call the dimension the ghosts come from?”

They were crazy. This whole town was crazy. Absolutely bonkers. Wes itched for something to write all of this down on. It was too good.

But first he had to try and get this conversation back on track if he wanted more information. “We don't… Have ghosts? Like, at all.”

This statement was met with a stunned quiet.

Then Kwan laughed. “Right. Right. We didn't always have them either.”

Star shook her head. “It feels like such a long time ago.”

Wes saw his chance. “So when did ghosts first appear and how—”

He was interrupted by several people screaming down a corridor, followed by a sudden commotion by the doors leading into the cafeteria.

A group of people burst into the room, pristine white suits gleaming beneath the fluorescent lamps. Only outshone by the raised weapons in their hands.

Before Wes had time to do more than blink, all the students in the cafeteria were suddenly on their feet, displaying a creepily fast reaction time in response to people interrupting their lunch with drawn guns

All the people at his table glanced to the same corner. Wes followed their line of sight but could only see Danny, Sam, Tucker, and a few other students huddled around a table.

One of the men in the white-clad group raised his gun and fired a glowing bolt into the ceiling. Wes squeaked in fear and ducked under the table for the second time that day.

Star looked down at him with clear disappointment on her face. “Seriously, Wes? This again?”

The man that had fired the gun screamed, “We know the ghost that calls itself Phantom is hiding in this school!”

“We saw Phantom on the cameras! Where is he hiding?!”

Wes poked his head out from under the table and hissed at Star, “Why do they come now?! It’s been like half an hour?!”

Star winced. “Yeah… They’re not exactly the most… effective hunters in town.”

One of the people in white, a woman holding some kind of large and beeping device, pointed and screamed, “The signal came from in here! There! In the far corner!”

Wes glanced back to the corner where Danny and his friends had been, but now it was crowded with people; a majority of the students seemed to have moved over to that specific corner and surrounded the table like a barricade. There was still no ghost in sight.

This didn’t seem to deter the men and women in white suits as they scrambled towards the far corner of the cafeteria, ignoring the protests of the students around them.

Wes watched as several students tripped and spilled their food in their way, tripped over stools so they sprawled in front of them, two girls even managed to tip a table to block their way with a giggling excuse of “being so clumsy”.

As the white-clad group passed by Wes' table, one of the maniacs’ eyes landed on him and they paused. “You! I haven't seen you before! Who are you?!”

Wes instinctively raised his hands, bumping into the table above him. “My name is Wesley? I'm new in town?” He didn’t mean to make it a question. But he suddenly had several guns pointed in his direction and felt more than a little nervous.

The woman who had stopped to interrogate him narrowed her eyes. “Hmmm, convenient.”

“Is it?” Wes squeaked out.

She tapped the trigger of her gun, aimed right at Wes. “Why are you hiding under a table?”

“Because you have guns? And ran into the room screaming?” And I don’t know what the fuck is going on, he thought but didn’t add.

“You’re saying you don’t trust the GIW?” She frowned. “I would call that suspicious.”

“You’re the GIW?!” Wes gaped and then managed, “I didn’t even know who you guys were like five minutes ago!”

“How can you not know who we are?” Another man in white spoke up, real confusion in his voice.

“This is my first day in this school! I just moved into town three days ago!”

The woman narrowed her eyes further, grip tightening on her gun. “Maybe that’s exactly what a ghost would say to throw us of his trail.”

Wes was starting to get angry. How dare they accuse him of being something he wasn’t?! The indignity! He would never do something like that to anyone! “How can I be a ghost when I’m not even sure what they are?!”

The woman opened her mouth to no doubt spout even more nonsense, but they were—once again—interrupted by a group of people bursting into the room with drawn guns. But this time it was only two; a man and a woman in aggressively colorful jumpsuits.

Wes distantly recognized the woman carrying a bazooka from when he’d first arrived in town. It didn’t make him feel any better.

“Where is he?!” screamed the woman in a blue jumpsuit.

The man in orange followed it up with an equally aggressive, “Where is the ghost boy?!”

The woman looked around the room. “There was a spike in his ectosignature from the school!”

Wes looked around in dazed confusion, distantly noting that the students around Danny and his friends drew in closer around them, effectively shielding them from view.

The two groups of gun-wielding maniacs—one white and one colorful—nodded to each other in greeting. The woman who had interrogated Wes spoke up, “We think we might have found the bastard!” And then she gestured to indicate Wes.

Wes gaped as the man and woman in colorful jumpsuits perked up. And then immediately raised their guns in Wes’ direction.

Wes shrunk back, trying to fit himself completely underneath the table.

The woman raised some sort of device in Wes’ direction and it screeched and hummed. Wes said his prayers and cursed the moment they had arrived in this insane town.

The woman pocketed the device. “He’s not a ghost.” And she sounded so disappointed by that fact. But then she paused and frowned as she studied the device in her hands. “In fact, he has a lower ecto-contamination than anyone I’ve ever seen…”

She stepped closer, too close. Wes tried to scramble backwards but the man reached under the table, grabbed Wes’ arm and dragged him out and up. Wes squeaked as he dangled in front of the woman, the white-clad maniacs and the whole of the student body of his new school.

Jack hummed, “That’s interesting, maybe we should take him back to the lab to see why—”

Danny poked his head up from the mess of students huddled around him. “Hi mom! Hi dad!”

Jack dropped Wes’ arm and started waving intently at Danny. “Son!”

The woman turned away and smiled wide from underneath her threatening goggles. “Hi honey!”

Wes stared as he massage his arm where the man had gripped it—where Mr. Fenton had gripped it.. That’s Danny’s parents? The towns ghost-hunters?! They were all so screwed.

Star grabbed him by the shoulders and ushered him backwards, covering his retreat with several well-placed students who stepped in without any hesitation. Kwan stepped up to his other side, keeping a steadying hand on his back.

Wes glanced over his shoulder at the man and woman and asked faintly, “Are they the most effective hunters in town?”

Star snorted. “Oh, Ancients no!”

Kwan laughed. “But they are the loudest.”

Star pointed at him. “Can’t argue with that.”

“But…” Wes tried to make sense of what had just happened. “If they’re ghost-hunters, how come they can't even differentiate between a ghost and a human?”

Star pursed her lips in thought, tapping her chin. “You know, it can be surprisingly hard sometimes.”

Wes wasn’t even surprised anymore. He had thought being dead meant being dead and that it was pretty clear-cut, but he had also thought that you weren’t supposed to threaten students with guns, that ghosts weren’t real, and that

Jack’s voice boomed over the chatter of the cafeteria, “We'll let you go this time, but we'll keep our eyes on you!”

Wes turned to see him looking right at him. He scowled. He would be the one keeping his eyes on them.

Wes turned back and caught Danny watching him from across the room, a laugh dancing over his face.

Wes narrowed his eyes at him. He knew something.

Wes would find out how this all fit together and how it connected to Dan—

He froze.

Danny had left the room before the ghost attack.

The hunters had followed their readings, right towards Danny, before they had gotten distracted by Wes.

It was so clear, so obvious. Why had no one else connected the dots?

Danny and Phantom was the same person! The same way his old teacher and the big, scraggly and unkempt dog Wes had seen behind the school had been the same person. He was sure this time! He would prove it.

And he would bring the proof to the whole school; freeing them from being tricked into protecting an evil ghost!

Star looked back at him with concern in her eyes. “You okay, Wes? Did Jack pull on you too hard?”

Wes smiled wide. “No worries. That was just what I needed.”

[numinousmysteries]

Dancing the Tandava (8/10)

[on Ao3] @today-in-fic

Geneva, Switzerland 2023

Mulder has a lifetime of experience with one too-smart-for-her-own-good petite woman staring him down like he’s lost his mind, but he isn’t used to two of them. And yet that’s the situation he finds himself in back at William’s apartment with both Scully and Hannah raising their eyebrows in unison as he explains his theory.

“He does know that wormholes are purely hypothetical, right?” Hannah says to Scully, with a mixture of disbelief and fear. “That they don’t actually exist?”

“Hypothetical is a relative term for Mulder,” Scully answers. “But yes, he should be fully aware that there’s no such thing as a traversable wormhole through which one could travel in time.”

Mulder steps toward her impatiently and says, “I’ve heard dozens of reports of time travel experiments at Camp Hero. If that’s where Bellona’s wife, Samita, disappeared, she could be caught in temporal purgatory. Bellona has figured out how to harness the large hadron collider to open up a portal between now and 1993 when she disappeared. I haven’t worked out why he’s sent William back there, but it could be in exchange for her, or even as a test to see if it works.”

Hannah’s face remains frozen in shock while Scully reaches out her hand to grip Mulder’s wrist.

“Mulder,” she starts. “All I want is to find our son, and I know that’s what you want, too. But don’t you think it’s more likely that Bellona killed his wife and tried to do the same to William?”

He shakes his head. Their son is alive. If he knows anything, he knows that. “Hannah, you said they never found Samita’s body. She was just presumed dead.”

“That’s right,” Hannah says quietly. “But, still—”

“And you mentioned Bellona ran an unusual experiment the night William went missing,” he interrupts. “I think that was him activating the wormhole, opening the portal into time.”

“Mulder, stop,” Scully nearly shouts at him. “Even if what you’re implying is possible, which it most certainly is not, Bellona would somehow need to generate enough energy to essentially create a black hole. He only managed to operate the collider at 15 TeV, right, Hannah? If I remember my physics correctly, that's still orders of magnitude smaller than what would be required for what Mulder’s suggesting.”

“You’re right,” Hannah says “It would need to be on the level of Planck energy.”

“Which I assume is…a lot?” Mulder asks.

“Uh, yeah,” says Hannah. “You’d need electrovolts in the area of 10 to the 19-billionth power. We’re only dealing with a few trillion here.”

Mulder nods as he processes her words. “Maybe that has something to do with his ritual at the Shiva statue. Maybe he’s attempting to harness an ancient, cosmic energy that surpasses anything you can create in a lab. We need to talk to Bellona again.”

“I don’t know what else you expect to get out of him,” Scully says, sounding defeated.

“He’s motivated by love, Scully, just like us. He wants his wife back and we want our son. I think we can appeal to him that way.”

Eager to confront Bellona again, he turns and opens the door, trusting Scully and Hannah will follow him.

Outside the apartment building, Scully tugs on his hand and pulls him toward her. “Can we have a moment?” He sees her eyes are welling with tears and her chin is wrinkled with worry.

“Sure,” he responds. “Hannah, go on ahead. We’ll catch up.”

Once the younger woman is out of earshot, he turns to Scully. “What’s up?”

She bites down on her lower lip and blinks slowly. “I think we need to be prepared to not find William alive.”

“No.” The word comes out louder than he intends it to and she gasps. He takes both of her hands in his and leans closer. “Scully, I refuse to believe that, and I know you better than to think you’d give up so soon. Whatever has happened to him, we’re going figure it out and we’re going to find him.”

“I just don’t—” she starts but a flood of tears interrupts her and her chest heaves.

He pulls her in close to him, feeling her muscles spasm through her thin jacket as her tears dampen his sweater. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispers into her hair. He kisses the top of her head and slowly strokes her back to soothe her.

“How are you so calm?”

“One of us has to be.” He sighs and feels her laughing softly against his chest. “And because I know William. He’s smarter than both of us combined. He’s probably going to find us before we find him.”

Scully takes a deep breath. She stands up straight, still holding his hands. “You really think he was sent back to 1993? Do you think he’d look for us?”

“Could you imagine how we’d react if he found us?” Mulder smiles. “We barely knew each other back then. Do you think you’d believe we have a son in the future?”

“No,” she chuckles, squeezing her eyes shut as she lowers her gaze to the ground. “Not a chance. But you would. You’d believe him.”

“If it meant I’d have a shot at getting with you one day, I wouldn’t need much proof.”

She laughs in earnest now. “Really? In 1993, you would have wanted that? With those horrible suits I used to wear?”

“Oh come on, I’ve told you before,” he smiles at her. “You were adorable back then. Still are.”

She looks up at him with a smile and he kisses her tenderly.

“We’re going to find him,” he affirms.

She nods and dries her eyes on the sleeve of her jacket. Up ahead, Hannah has stopped to wait for them. He gives Scully’s hands a reassuring squeeze and then they start walking to meet their son’s best friend.

***

Mulder doesn’t bother to knock at Bellona’s door, just angrily twists the knob. It’s locked, though, and doesn’t budge, so he pounds on it harshly. There’s no answer.

“Damn it,” he hisses under his breath. He rests his fist on the door and bows his head in frustration and helplessness.

“Mulder,” he hears Scully whisper as she brings a hand to his back. “Someone’s coming.”

He pivots around and sees Bellona approaching from the other end of the hallway. As soon as Bellona spots the three of them at his office door, he turns in the other direction. Mulder sprints to catch him, hearing Hannah and Scully in pursuit behind him.

When he’s in arm’s distance, he reaches out and grabs the scientist by the shoulder.

“Stop,” Mulder shouts. Bellona turns to face him and the two nearly collide.

“I know what you’re doing,” Mulder says, stepping closer to Bellona to overshadow the shorter man. “You’re trying to get your wife back. You opened up a wormhole with the LHC that links back to 1993 when your wife disappeared.”

Bellona scoffs. “What you’re saying is ludicrous. My wife is dead.”

“You don’t know that,” Mulder counters. “They never found a body, and she disappeared at Camp Hero where the CIA was experimenting with time travel.”

“You know the capacities of the LHC, Hannah,” Bellona says, turning to Hannah, who, along with Scully, is now right behind Mulder. “Tell him none of this is possible.”

Hannah frowns, looking between the two men and back at Scully. “I did,” she says. “But this doesn’t add up. You did something to William.”

“I’m sorry about your son,” Bellona says to Mulder. “But I know the limits of science. That’s how my wife, Samita, died. She was recruited by the defense department to take part in an experiment that would push the known barriers of everything we know about particle physics—”

“A time travel experiment,” Mulder insists.

“No,” Bellona cries in frustration. “That’s preposterous.”

“What was the project then?” Scully asks anxiously.

“I never found out,” Bellona says, suddenly wistful. “I assume it was some sort of weapon, based on the resources the government was throwing around and the level of secrecy surrounding it. Probably something so powerful it would make the hydrogen bomb look like a hand grenade. They wouldn’t even tell Samita the full details until she arrived at Camp Hero. And then she died soon after. I assume it was during a test, but I hit a wall with the defense department whenever I tried to get any answers.”

“But then what are you doing?” Hannah begs, her voice hoarse with anger and fear. “What did William see you doing at the Shiva statue? And how did you get the LHC to run at 15 TeV?”

Bellona stares at her quizzically then shakes his head and pats his hands at his sides. “Oh, what does it matter,” he says quietly, almost to himself, glazing not at Mulder, Scully, and Hannah but at the ceiling above him. “It’ll all be over soon anyway. There’s no use hiding it anymore.”

He pauses, then stares at the three of them.

“We’re in a cosmic cycle of creation and destruction,” Bellona continues. “Look at the havoc humanity has brought to this planet: nuclear weapons, ecological devastation, genocide. Even this very establishment we hail as a pinnacle of science holds the keys to our destruction. Like Lord Shiva, we’ve danced our way into existence and can dance ourselves into extinction. The LHC doesn’t just give us the power to understand the Big Bang—it gives us the power to recreate it. My group has that opportunity now, to enter a new cycle, one free of evil and hate.”

“But in restarting the universe, you will destroy everything that already exists,” Mulder says.

“And even if you did, the laws of nature suggest that humanity, or a species very much like it, would evolve in exactly the same manner,” adds Scully. “Not to mention none of this is even possible,

“It may be,” Hannah says and the others turn to look at her.

She points accusingly at Bellona. “That’s the experiment you’ve been working on, isn’t it? It’s how you were able to get the LHC to run at 15 TeV. You want to generate enough energy to create a new Big Bang. You were testing it when Wiliam went missing and—wait,” she pauses, furrowing her brow in thought. “Mulder might be right, too. You didn’t generate enough energy to re-condense all matter in the universe but you did open up a wormhole. That’s where William is. That’s why there’s no evidence of him leaving the tunnel.”

“I couldn’t tell you where he is if I wanted to,” Bellona says. “But he was going to question my group’s project and I couldn’t have that.”

“What’s this group you’re talking about?” Hannah asks. “No one at CERN would ever condone such an insane idea.”

“No,” Bellona smiles. “But true believers would.”

As he finishes speaking, a door opens behind them and Mulder turns to see a small crowd of people teeming out of Bellona’s office. They must’ve been in there when he knocked on the door but he hadn’t heard a sound from the other side. Mulder recognizes one of them as the taxi driver with the Shiva medallion. “You!” He calls out after him.

The driver smiles menacingly as he approaches along with the rest of the group. There are roughly a dozen of them in total and once they reach Mulder, Scully, and Hannah, they easily outnumber them. Two of the men grip Mulder’s arms from either side as others in the group take hold of Hannah and Scully. They shout and writhe in protest but they’re unable to fight off Bellona’s lackeys who drag them down the hall and back into his office. After the three of them are forced inside, Bellona slams the door.

Mulder lunges at the doorknob, trying to force it open, but it doesn’t give.

“I guess these are the people William saw gathered with Bellona at the Shiva statue,” Hannah says as they hear the door locking from the outside.

“It doesn’t make sense,” Scully says. “Even though Shiva is associated with destruction in Hinduism, he’s a peaceful god. Destruction in this sense doesn’t even have a malevolent connotation. It's part of a natural cycle of death and rebirth.”

“Scully, you’re a Christian,” Mulder replies. “You should know that anyone can twist the idea of a benevolent god into an evil idol to serve their own purposes. I doubt Bellona or his followers are well-versed in Hinduism at all. They’ve just latched onto this idea of cosmic circles of creation and destruction and are using it to justify their apocalyptic plan. It’s a death cult. Just like Heaven’s Gate or Jonestown, only this time they plan on taking the rest of the planet with them.”

“Well then we better figure out how to stop him,” Hannah says despondently.

Mulder jams his shoulder up against the door but it’s heavy and isn’t opening. Even though it’s selfish, he feels more concerned about never seeing William again than Bellona bringing about the end of the universe. He looks to Scully who’s currently shuffling through the papers on Bellona’s desk with Hannah, trying to find anything that can help them. She glances back at him and he can see the fear in her oceanic eyes.

“Find anything?” he asks.

“No,” Hannah says without lifting her eyes off the desk. “These calculations do seem to indicate Bellona’s attempting to launch particles through the accelerator at faster rates than we’ve ever achieved before, but there’s no evidence to suggest it’ll work.”

“He might be tapping into a deeper, more powerful spiritual force,” Mulder says. “That could explain his ritual at the Shiva statue.”

Slumped back against the door, Mulder contemplates their predicament. He thought he’d had his fill of homicidal maniacs for one lifetime and had no intention of ever dragging his son into a mess like this. That was the bargain he and Scully had made after William’s birth. They’d leave the monster chasing to Doggett and Reyes in exchange for giving their son a normal life. He should have known that oftentimes, though, it’s the monsters that chase them.

He feels a subtle vibration on the ground underneath him. Scully and Hannah feel it, too, and they stop their frantic searching and lock eyes with each other.

“Not a lot of earthquake action in Geneva, huh?” he asks.

“No,” Hannah shakes her head.

“And no chance we’re right above a subway line?”

“The only thing below us is the collider tunnel,” Hannah says, her voice starting to shake along with the rest of the room. “Whatever Bellona is planning, it must be starting.”

The electricity cuts out with a sputter. The fluorescent lights overhead flicker off, leaving them in darkness except for the dim afternoon light filtering in through the small window. As the shaking becomes more violent, books and equipment start tumbling off the office shelves. Mulder rushes to Scully and Hannah, wrapping them both in his arms as they duck for cover underneath Bellona’s desk.

“William’s our only hope, now,” Mulder shouts to be heard over the clamor of crashing objects and vigorous rumbling.

“What do you mean?” Scully yells back.

“If he really did get sent back to 1993, he might figure out how to stop Bellona back then. He has the power to change the future.”

Scully looks up at him, scared but hopeful. As he moves to hold her closer, the light from the window flickers out, as if the sun itself has lost power.